Letting out a light chuckle over the communications system of the loud Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II was Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, flying on by— literally! He had the cockiest smirk in the world upon hearing the “oh my god”s and “what the fuck?!”s all morning.

Sure, after Goose was gone that smirk had faded and those surrounding him assumed that they’d never see it again— Ice got it out of him. Ice, Slider, Wolfman, and the rest of the gang. But Ice.. man.

That wasn’t the point though, and that also wasn’t in the main question that Jake “Hangman” Seresin and the rest of the mission group had. The question being: what the fuck was going on between Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and Captain Mitchell?

“So, Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?” Hangman mused, one hand on his steering column and the other resting as if he was in a car.

“Would it matter if I did?” Bradley huffed in return, knowing it wouldn’t because Jake was just that annoying.

“What’s the story with you and Maverick? It seems like he’s got you rattled.”

“That’s none of your business.” Rooster shot back quickly in return. “Now where the hell is he?”

“Been here the whole time.” Maverick hummed, his jet inverted over Rooster’s.

“Holy shit..” Hangman muttered, eyes wide.

“D’ya see me now?”

The other aviators sat around the communications radio, eyes widened. Phoenix and Coyote sat in the front, Bob hovering over their shoulders. Omaha and Fanboy were stationed next to Phoenix, eyes trained on ever sound wave that left the speakers.

“Come on, let’s get it over with.” Maverick said gruffly.

“Fights on!” Rooster yelled in return. All that was left now was to sit and wait.