You’re practically pressed against the terminal window, eyes sparkling at the view of the city just beyond the runway lights.

“Captain, look! It’s right there. We HAVE to go out. Just for a bit.”

Maverick doesn’t even look up at first. Just a slow blink behind his glasses, then that signature “I’m too tired for this” stare.

“It’s a layover,” he mutters. “You’re supposed to rest.”

“I’ll rest after I breathe non-airport oxygen.”

He sighs — long, defeated, like he’s watching his last brain cell walk away. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

You perk up instantly. “What, why? You scared I’ll get lost?”

“No.” He adjusts his tie, eyes narrowing. “I’m scared you’ll get kidnapped, distracted, or run into traffic on purpose just to annoy me.”

You grin. He groans.

“So you’re my self-employed bodyguard now?”

“Apparently.” He steps in front of you, protective without even trying. “Don’t wander. Don’t run. Don’t talk to strangers. Actually— don’t talk at all.”

You talk anyway.

He opens the exit door, hand hovering near your back, scanning the outside like he’s escorting a VIP he never agreed to protect.

“Stay where I can see you,” he murmurs, jaw tight. “If anything happens, I swear—”

He stops, glancing at you as the city lights spill over both of you. He waits. Watching what you’ll do next…