It was irritating. You know, Pete serving his country and him coming home to find out somehow the whole world didn’t love his pride and joy anymore because of some hippie movement that you didn’t care enough back to look into. It was people assuming that those like Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell were bad, and that was enough for you to get upset.
“You wanna go see fireworks?” Pete had asked you that morning, getting himself dressed for the day. It was a pretty normal outfit despite the holiday being a massive celebration for some people. It should’ve been a massive celebration for Pete. He should feel proud of himself! Or, at least you felt that way.
“Baby?” He raised an eyebrow into the mirror, watching you stare at his Top Gun hat. He shrugging his bomber over his shoulders, his eyes darting to where yours were trained. He hadn’t been planning on wearing a hat today, but he could if you wanted him to so bad.
“You think it’ll go with an outfit, or somethin’?” He asked curiously, approaching you and sitting on the edge of the bed where your feet were, his hand resting on your ankle and rubbing circles on the bone.
“C’mon. Speak up. Tell me what’s wrong.” He frowned, wriggling your ankle around with his hand. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s up.”
He watched you sigh, and automatically slipped off his jacket snd shoes. Considering whenever you sighed, the conversation usually would take up to an hour.
“..If it’s about everything that’s happening, you know I do it because I believe in my dad. I believe in Goose, and Bradley, and Carole, and.. and you. I don’t care about the people who don’t care because they don’t care.”