HARD DECK
a top gun: maverick fanfiction

CHAPTER SEVEN: BATHROOM YOGA

"So much for driving home," Summer said, sipping on her third Manhattan of the evening. She'd also poured at least three, maybe four, shots of rum into her stomach, along with a pile of French fries and a burger.

Thomas let out a laugh. "Oh my god, I am not driving home," he said, gesturing to the array of empty glasses in front of him. "We'll have to call an Uber or something."

"How did we let ourselves fall into such shape?" Summer whined, a smile on her face. "Joey isn't even here to be our bad influence!"

Thomas shrugged. "Hey, we know how to have fun without Joey," he said, shoving Summer's arm. "Don't discredit us."

"Hey, Doc!"

The two friends turned their heads to the other side of the restaurant, where the group of Navy pilots were standing around a table. Hangman and Fanboy were seated at the table, their hands clasped together.

Arm wrestling.

"Those Navy boys of yours are something else," Thomas said, his eyes locked on them. "Quite ... entertaining."

"I think you mean annoying," Summer replied. "Or maybe obnoxious."

Despite her words, she couldn't help but feel a smile on her face as she watched the group. In some ways, they were the same as every cohort that rolled through TOPGUN. On the other hand, there was something entirely different about them.

She supposed it had to do with the mission. They were living their lives to the fullest, because six of them would be going on a mission that everyone was convinced they wouldn't return from. They didn't know which six of them it would be, so that meant everyone was living like there was no tomorrow.

"Dr. Hackett," Payback called again. "We need you to judge our arm wrestling contests."

Summer rolled her eyes, though a drunken smile filled her face. "Why do you need a judge for an arm wrestling contest? Whoever wins, wins."

"Are you going to make us beg for your company, Doc?" Rooster said, smirking.

That goddamn mustache.

If Rooster had any other profession, Summer would have been all over him from the first moment he flirted with her. However, she'd never break her golden rule: no dating pilots.

Summer glanced over at Thomas, who was already watching her with a smug smile.

"Are you into the one with the mustache?" He asked in a low whisper.

Summer scoffed. "No. Do I need to repeat my rule?"

Thomas laughed and shook his head, settling back in the booth with his arms crossed over his chest. "No no, that's fine." He glanced over at the pilots. "But, I think you better go judge that competition. I'll grab us some more drinks and meet you over there," he said, standing and heading for the bar before Summer could even protest.

Summer groaned sarcastically and stood, sauntering over to the pilots. They cheered as she arrived, pulling a seat over for her like a throne.

"You guys do understand how arm wrestling works, right? There's no judging. I don't pick the winner," she said.

"M-Maybe we just want to hang out with you, away from the base," Bob said, offering a polite smile. Bob was probably the only one of the pilots that didn't flirt with her, so Summer respected that.

"Fine," she said, relaxing in the chair with her arms crossed over her chest. "For you only, Bob."

Next up in the competition were Payback and Rooster. They sat at the table, on either side of Summer, and grasped their hands together, eyes locked on each other.

"You're going down, Rooster!" Packback taunted. "Cock-a-Doodle-Doo!"

Rooster laughed and shook his head. "Doubtful."

"You tell 'em when to start, Doctor," Fanboy said, clapping Summer on the shoulder.

"Umm, okay," Summer laughed. "Start."

The two men immediately clenched their arms, shaking the table.

Summer jumped back, laughing as she watched them put all their strength into pushing the other man's arm down. They were deadlocked, both arms remaining upwards.

Thomas returned with two whiskey sours, handing one to Summer.

"What'd I miss?" He asked, looking at the two men.

"Oh, by the way, this is Thomas," Summer said, patting Thomas on the back as he sat down. "My date for the evening," she said, stifling a laugh.

"I cannot believe you guys actually thought we were on a date," Thomas said, shaking his head with a laugh. "My mother would be very pleased to hear that I at least pass for straight in public," he joked.

The teasing distraction was just what Payback needed to get ahead of Rooster. The latter glanced over at Summer for a moment, and as their eyes met, his grip on Payback's hand loosened, and Payback immediately pushed Rooster's arm to the table.

"Woohoo!" Payback said, jumping to his feet with his fist in the air. As he did that, his knee caught the table leg, and Summer's drink went flying, as did some of the others on the table, immediately soaking both Summer and Rooster.

They both jumped up, trying to avoid their clothes from getting wet, but it was no use. Both of their laps were covered in alcohol.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" Payback said, his face falling as he reached for a pile of napkins.

Summer and Rooster exchanged a look before both erupting into laughter.

"It's okay, Payback," Summer said, wiping at her shorts. The thin cotton material was soaked through. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom."

"I think I'll join you," Rooster said, peering down at his own shorts. It looked as if he'd pissed himself, and his cheeks were turning red as people in the restaurant turned to look at him.

Summer headed for the back of the restaurant, Rooster behind her. Her wet shorts were already sticky with liquor, and the feeling of the damp fabric touching her was making her skin crawl.

"This is so gross," she muttered, pinching the bottom hem between two of her fingers.

"Leave it to Payback to beat me in arm wrestling, and then spill a drink on me," Rooster said as he caught up to Summer, half a smile on his face.

"This is what I get for talking to you guys when I'm not on the clock," Summer replied, shooting the pilot a fake glare.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Well, you should have known better than to come over here on the pretense of judging an arm wrestling contest. I mean, no one judges an arm wrestling contest," he said, a serious expression on his face.

Summer's mouth dropped and she prepared to say something, her tipsy brain swirling for a witty comeback -- but she fell flat.

He grinned, letting her know that he was kidding, and headed into the men's room, leaving Summer to the women's.

She walked inside the empty bathroom, frantically wiping at her wet shorts with the barely-absorbent paper towel that scratched her skin more than it dried her off.

She groaned and walked over to the hand dryer, turning it on and standing awkwardly in front of it. She hoisted her leg up onto the counter of the sink, angling her body so that the vent could dry her shorts.

"Hey Doc, someone is taking a shit in the men's room, so I hope you don't mind if I join you in --"

The door swung open, revealing Rooster, who watched Summer with a shocked expression on his face. He let out a surprised laugh.

"Well, that is what I would describe as a compromising position," he said, chuckling.

She rolled her eyes and held up a finger to him. "You will never speak of this to anyone," she said. "And besides, this is the best angle to maximize drying."

He laughed and pointed to the other dryer. "Mind if I join you?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Be my guest."

"First, I'm going to do this," he said, turning the deadbolt on the door. "We don't need anyone else walking in to see ... this." He gestured to Summer.

He turned on the dryer, awkwardly stepping up to it. "I'm not ... not sure what to do with my leg," he said. "I don't have a sink on this side to prop my leg up to achieve your optimal position."

Summer paused, turning to him. "Well, maybe you could, like, prop it up on the wall?"

He laughed. "I'm not a gymnast, Doc."

"Well, I don't know!" She laughed. "Here. Try propping your other leg up on my dryer. Maybe that will work?"

That did, in fact, not work. All it did was block Summer from her dryer.

"I feel like this should not be so difficult," she said, a tipsy laugh escaping her mouth.

"Well, you like to make everything difficult, don't you?" He replied, leaning against the dryer.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her smile falling.

He sighed and opened his mouth, about to say something. Instead, he just shook his head. "Nothing."

"No, what do you mean?" She asked, taking her leg down from the counter and turning to look at him. "I don't ... I don't make things difficult."

"Never mind," he said, a sad smile filling his face before he turned to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow, Doc."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ author's note ✫・゜・。.

this was basically just a continuation of the last chapter, but it was so long that i decided to split it in two.

currently just imagining summer & rooster posted up in the bathroom trying to dry their pants ....

anyways, what were your thoughts? please leave comments, silent readers make me die inside.

thank you for reading!

xx,

madi