A/N: Song track to accompany this one-shot:

Hot Summer Nights - Miami Sound Machine

Also: this took way too long to write (like, 2 days for some reason) so please vote and comment!

(The title sucks, but oh well.)

****

It was always summer nights like these that made you feel... alive.

With the gentle breeze blowing against your skin - not to hot, not too cold...

It's on evenings like these that used to spur you on - fuel your creativity.

But tonight, on this particular evening, as you're watching the sun sink below the horizon from behind your desk, you can't help but feel worse than ever.

See, you'd missed your deadline.

By two days to be exact.

Being a branch between the US Navy's Air Force and the general public through reporting and publishing informational articles can be exhausting.

Especially when your necessary source of information continues to be uncooperative.

Lieutenant Pete Mitchell was supposed to have briefed you on his MiG sighting. Three days ago.

A sighting that according to those higher ups, was to be known to the general public in the vicinity of the airbase in order to maintain a sort of constant surveillance of the enemy craft.

If the people know what to look for, they can report it and then the Navy can scramble their fighters.

In your head, it makes half sense.

You understand where they Navy is coming from.

But the civilian side of you disagrees - fearing that by making this information known to the public they will go about their lives in fear for a reason unlikely to ever happen.

Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you sink in your seat, the orange glow of the setting Sun bathing the paper in front of you in a warm hue.

"I can't finish this until he actually does his part," You mutter bitterly, kicking away from the table and wandering towards the kitchen of your small apartment.

Just outside of the Navy's bounds sits a small community, one that's relatively tightly knit, considering most of the folks here have spouses or other loved ones amongst the ranks.

But not you.

You're just here to do your job.

Which, as you pour yourself a glass of water, peering out the window that faces your front door, the answer to your job's problems seems to appear from thin air.

A familiar jacket clad figure is clambering off of yet another familiar motorcycle, a dark pair of aviators sitting on his features.

Surprise ripples through you at the newcomer's arrival as you watch him stride up the walkway and onto the porch, knocking against the door.

How in the world did he get my address?

And why would he be here now, of all times?

Setting your glass down and answering the door, you whisk it open to reveal a grinning Pete Mitchell, a slight awkwardness evident in his stance.

"I wasn't expecting you - let alone here, at my doorstep," You greet with a soft smile, though it quickly fades, replaced by a questioning frown.

"I know. Sorry I didn't call ahead. I guess I should've taken your number the first time we met," Pete apologizes, taking off his sunglasses to raise his green gaze to yours, sincerity shining within.

"How in the world did you get my address, Lieutenant?"

The one they call Maverick shifts his weight from foot to foot, a grimace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I may have pulled some records... I have my ways. After all, you need me for your report, right?"

At this, you frown, through you inwardly smile, a fondness swelling within you.

"Yes, I do," You reply simply, stepping aside and gesturing past you, trying to usher him inside.

Though Pete makes no move to follow, his smirk widening.

"It'd be a shame to sit inside and talk when it's such a nice night," The pilot muses, a playful urging in his tone. "How about we go for a ride? I know a few places."

All you can do is stand there for a moment, blinking a few times to process the words you'd just heard from the man literally standing on your doorstep.

Man, he's good.

You've got to give him props for this - showing up unannounced and then offering to take you for a ride from the angle that you need his explanation?

Allowing your grin to show this time, you nod, stepping back inside slightly to grab your keys.

"If you say so, Maverick," You chuckle. "Just let me grab my notebook and-"

"No need," He hollers back in reply, causing you to stop in your tracks, turning to face him. "I've gotcha covered."

And in his grasp sits a pen and notepad, a knowing smirk on his lips.

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you sigh, stepping out onto the front porch and shutting the door behind you, before continuing on down the driveway towards the curb where he'd parked moments ago.

"I'll be honest about a few things here," You muse aloud, meeting Pete's enthusiastic gaze. "For one, I would've never taken you to be the type of guy to pull off a stunt like this."

The brunet just laughs.

"And two, I've never been on a motorcycle in my life."

"You'll be fine, I've got you, remember?" Maverick encourages warmly, clambering onto the bike before offering a hand to you.

It takes you a moment to clamber on behind him, but when he finally takes off down the street, forcing you to cling to his torso to avoid smacking into the pavement below rushing by, you can't help but gradually begin to feel free.

"So?" You yell over the wind, leaning towards the driver a bit more, your grip around him becoming tighter as he takes a corner. "Where to?"

The only reply you get is a cheeky grin back at you in the mirrors.

One that, much to your surprise, tugs at something you haven't felt in a long, long time.

****

The sun is long gone now, instead replaced by the soft glow of the Moon and the stars of the sky - glimmering all in their own unique way.

The breeze has picked up a bit, leaving you to silently regret not grabbing a jacket.

Though as you sit beneath the light of the Moon and the stars, coupled with the warm glow of the lights strung together on the outdoor patio you're currently at and the presence of the man across from you, you're finally beginning to feel at ease.

"So you're telling me that you literally winged this whole thing?" You giggle in admiration, a playful look of disbelief on your features.

"That always seems to work best. Any other time I've planned something, it always just crashes and burns."

"And how would you say you're doing so far this time around?"

Pete just smirks, leaning forward in his seat slightly.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see."

You can't help but feel a warmth rise to your cheeks at the tone in his voice, coupled with his handsome features and teasing smirk.

And it's funny, because all this time - ever since you've gotten this job, you swore to not grow close to anyone around here.

But yet, here you are, on what you've mentally deemed a date, with a soon to be Top Gun fighter pilot, of all things.

Sighing in an attempt to calm your flustered state, you turn to admire the beachfront to your side, the moonlight rippling against the ocean waves that look like they never cease to end.

"Why don't we go for a walk?"

You barely hear the pilot's suggestion, your wandering thoughts having too much of a grip on you.

But when you hear your name fall from his lips in such a compassionate and warm tone, you instantly swivel your attention back to the pilot, eyes wide.

"Nobody should be on the beach this time of night. We can talk about what you need for your report down there," He explains, gesturing to the sand and sea below the deck you both sit on.

Leaving the cash for your drinks beneath your empty glasses, the pair of you continue on your way, descending the stairs into the soft sand.

"So," You muse aloud while you walk side by side with Pete, your strides syncing in a slow and easy rhythm.

"So," He echoes back, a teasing in his tone.

"I need you to describe the MiG you encountered," You explain, stepping ahead of Pete slightly, walking backwards so you can keep eye contact with him. "Things like color, wingspan, evident and identifiable weapons..."

You trail off as the man in front of you just smirks with a chuckle, reaching into the pocket of the bomber jacket he wears to hand you a folded, rather crumpled and torn piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"The answers to your problems," Comes the cheeky reply, earning a huff of a scoff from you.

Squinting through the dim darkness and clinging to the worn paper while a breeze passes you by, you begin to unfold it, messy yet legible handwriting strewn across it, forming concise bullet points.

"Black in color, wingtip mounted K-13 missiles?" You read off, looking to the pilot for confirmation, to which he nods.

"They're not friendly, that's for sure," Pete hums, shrugging. "But since when has anyone who's shot at you known to be friendly?"

You can't help but laugh, sharing a humored look with the brunet.

"You're not wrong there."

A light silence settles between the pair of you as you fall back into step at Maverick's side, the paper neatly folded back up in your left hand, the other by your side.

Though when you accidentally begin to drift closer to his side, your hands end up brushing, earning a surprised exhale from you.

Your sudden contact to the pilot, however, seems not to phase him.

Instead, he wordlessly grasps your free hand in his, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"I'd hate for you to lose your footing again," He teases softly, passing you a glance, humor glimmering in his gaze.

All you can do is grin slightly back in reply, the heat on your cheeks and flustered thoughts unable to provide much else.

"So those notes will do, then? All you've gotta do now is just write up the rest of your report and you're done," The man at your side muses aloud, guiding the pair of you towards a bench up ahead by the sea wall aways.

"I appreciate the notes, Pete," You grin gratefully, taking a seat with a sigh. "Though I do think that this was all apart of your plan, hm?"

"How'd you guess?"

At this, you giggle, recalling his own words when you'd asked him about his sudden appearance at your doorstep earlier.

"I have my ways."

And as the pair of you sit there on the beach, overlooking the sea and sand, your features bathed in the glow of the moonlight...

Ease finally fills you.

And with ease comes a realization.

A realization that is interrupted by a shiver as a cooler gust of wind blows over your skin, goosebumps surfacing.

Though, as you feel the chill dance down your spine, you can't help but wonder if you're cold or if the close proximity to the pilot beside you is causing this.

Mentally debating for a moment, you settle that it's both, giving into your shivers.

Maverick must take note of your trembling figure at his side because he quickly does a double take, realization settling upon his features as his gaze skims you over.

"I guess I should've mentioned we could've been out late," He chuckles, shedding his jacket and setting it upon your bare shoulders.

The thoughtful gesture makes your blush return full force, though this time, you don't feel flustered.

Rather, you feel content - safe and warm.

"Thanks," You murmur, raising your gaze to meet his, offering a fond grin.

Once more, a comfortable silence settles between the pair of you.

And as the time stretches on, the ocean waves crashing against the shore, the distant rumble of nighttime town life... it all melds into one soothing sound, threatening to pull your eyelids closed.

In fact, you hadn't even noticed where your head had fallen against the pilot's shoulder, who knows how long ago.

Fighting back fatigue, you yawn, pulling the large jacket tighter around you.

"Well? What do you think? Did I crash and burn this time around?" Pete inquires aloud, a contented playfulness in his tone.

Shifting closer to the man at your side before he pulls you even closer, you smirk drowsily, grinning up at him.

"I think you did pretty well," You nod, voice trailing as your smirk widens into a grin, a teasing also dropping into your tone. "Lieutenant."

At this, Maverick just shakes his head with a huff of a chuckle, gently urging you both to your feet.

"Let's get you home so you can write that report of yours," He suggests, making his way to his feet before extending a hand towards you, which you happily accept. "And I should get back before Goose starts the rumors up again."

You pass Pete a questioning glance as the pair of you begin back the way you'd came earlier, paces falling in sync, hands entwined.

"My Parter - that's his callsign," Comes the explanation, earning a soft "oh," from you.

"He likes to make rumors?"

"He can't help it. He's a horrible liar. Can't keep anything to himself. Never has been," Pete recalls, a fond grin tugging at his lips. "He's the best friend anyone could ever ask for. One hell of a backseater, too."

You pass the pilot a nod accompanied by a soft smile.

"Maybe I could meet him sometime - next time you two encounter a MiG, maybe?"

Maverick just laughs, exchanging a humored look with you.

"Maybe we'll just have to arrange that."

****

The ride home had been a chilly one, but one that you wouldn't have taken any other way.

This entire evening had been something unexpected, yet, you'd welcomed it with open arms, finally beginning to feel alive again after all this time.

And as you rather precariously clamber off of the motorcycle, making full use of Pete's helping hand, you finally get both feet back on your driveway.

"Thanks for this," You murmur softly, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you shed his jacket and pass it back to it's rightful owner.

"Anytime," The pilot smirks, shrugging back into the bomber, gaze gleaming with something you can't quite make out. "Hopefully those notes can complete your report."

"Oh, I wasn't referring to the notes," You explain suddenly, though as your words fall from your lips, sharp realization settles within you as Maverick's smirk grows.

"I know," He chuckles, starting the engine of the motorcycle back up again, kicking up the kickstand. "We'll do this again sometime."

And with one last seemingly signature smirk, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell takes off down the road, the tail-light of his bike gradually becoming dimmer and dimmer.

It takes you a moment to wrap your head around his sudden absence, coupled with the events of this evening and... everything.

But as you wander up the driveway, onto the front porch and inside, a slow resolve settles within you.

Maybe it is worth getting to know the folks around here...

Flicking on the lamp at your desk and grabbing a thumbtack, you carefully unfold the already worn out piece of paper Pete's handwriting is sprawled across, pinning it to your bulletin board with a sigh of contentment.

You've finally got everything you need to finish your report and move onto the next one.

And who knows what that may bring.

Another unexpected visit, maybe?

Either way, you're ready.

And as you take a step back, grinning at the tacked piece of paper and your notes, you grin excitedly, biting back a yawn.

"Thanks, Pete," You murmur aloud, your voice filling your empty apartment, hazy gaze once more skimming over the pilot's messy handwriting before you turn off the light, bathing the room in darkness. "I owe you one."