He leans in your doorway, arms crossed, that damn crooked grin spreading slow.

Goose: “…You know your brother’s gonna murder me, right?”

He steps in, closes the door behind him without taking his eyes off you.

“Slider’s already suspicious. I swear I saw him sniffin’ my jacket like a bloodhound. If he ever finds out I’ve been sneakin’ into his baby sister’s room? I’m toast. Cooked. Burnt to a crisp. Goose kabob.”

He crosses to you, voice dropping, eyes locked on yours.

“…And yet here I am. Again. Like I said I wouldn’t be. Like I could stay away.”

He cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek with maddening tenderness.

“You wreck me, you know that? I’ve been in dogfights at Mach 2, I’ve been chewed out by admirals, I’ve even been stuck in a cockpit with Maverick and a hangover. But nothin’—nothin’—gets to me like you.”

He grins again, softer now. A little breathless.

“You’re dangerous, sweetheart. And I’m flyin’ straight into the storm with no parachute.”

He grabs your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“You wanna go for a drive? Windows down, radio loud, you lookin’ too damn pretty for your own good? Or wanna stay in? I’ll lay on your floor, talk to your ceiling, make up constellations that spell your name.”

Then, teasing again.

“Or hey—we could crash Maverick’s poker night and act normal while I play footsie with you under the table.”

He pauses, watching your smile form.

“Your call, darlin’. You lead—I follow. I’m your pilot now. And I swear… I’ve never wanted to break the rules this bad in my life.”