CHAPTER ONE
Great Balls of Fire

CASSIE'S HEART WOULD ALWAYS BELONG TO THE EAST COAST. After all, it was where she was raised, attended school, and built the majority of her lifelong relationships. Though, she had to admit, there was just something about California that made her feel equally at home.

     One could argue that it's because it houses the program through which Cassie came into her own, finally able to spread her wings and show her peers that she was hardly reliant on (unknowingly to them) nepotism for her admittance into TOPGUN — however, that wasn't the complete truth.

     While Cassie obviously doesn't have full-fledged memories from her first eighteen months of life, she often gets a sense of déjà vu when passing through North Island. She gets a gnawing feeling that she's walked down this exact sidewalk hand-in-hand with her father, sat down at that exact bench in her mother's lap, and watched naval jets flying overhead while sitting with both her parents on the front deck of their house.

     California was where she was born and would expectedly always hold a special place in Cassie's heart. North Island was just as much her home as the D.M.V. and Cassie looked forward to it as such. She could never choose which coast she preferred, but one thing that the West Coast had over the East a hundred times over —

     The lack of humidity.

     Cassie slowed her previous running pace to a brisk walk as she completed her five-mile route that effortlessly came back to her like muscle memory. She was out of breath, naturally, but gratefully didn't harbor the extra burden of the thick, sticky air that was characteristic to the opposite side of the country. She kept her arms raised as she cooled down, wrists crossed on top of her head to more easily allow air to enter her lungs. Her walk slowed to a stop as she stood behind the retaining wall separating the road from the beach across the street from her house, looking out towards the horizon.

     Cassie couldn't have forgotten about this view even if she tried. It was embedded into her mind like a core memory, only now, she was without the presence of two specific people. Even the soft sounds emitted from the crashing waves transported her back thirty-or-so years, simultaneously reminding her of her miles-long runs along the river on the Yard.

     Prior to the Academy, Cassie loathed running. Perhaps it was due to some rendition of the mere exposure effect, but now she viewed running as a sort of meditative practice to help sort through her constantly overwhelming thoughts. Having forcibly become dependent on sheer willpower to keep her legs moving and arms pumping versus having the motivational aid of music flowing through her earbuds, Cassie became accustomed to relying on her surroundings to focus on once her mind wandered. Every once in a while, though, she was simply in the mood to have music accompany her; today was one of those days, Foghat's "Slow Ride" currently playing at full volume from her phone.

     She took a deep breath, taking in the salty air and the aforementioned sounds of waves crashing against the shore. As much as she appreciated her stay with her mom in D.C. prior to flying across the States, Cassie desperately wanted to trade in the city for the seaside.

     Upon hearing foreign voices invade the environment's soundscape, Cassie dropped her arms and glanced over her shoulder to see a pair of two men walking in her direction, dressed in naval aviator uniforms. She could easily presume they were heading to the Hard Deck, the bar around the corner that bore the title of North Island's signature hangout spot. Cassie would also be going there that night, taking the opportunity to catch up with familiar faces and potentially meet some new ones, such as the pair ahead of her.

     The blonde noticed Cassie's calculating gaze, lips contorting into a wide smile before inserting his index and middle fingers into his mouth to produce a loud whistle.

     "Hey!" Cassie could see his comrade laughing at his — typical, most likely — antics. "Take a picture, it'll last longer!" She narrowed her eyes at the juvenile phrase. He held his arms out wide in welcoming, "Or feel free to come join us!"

     As they turned the corner, the Black man called out, "Come down to the Hard Deck — " he pointed at the blonde " — and ask for Hangman!" The blonde ("Hangman," apparently) immediately retorted, causing both members of the duo to laugh as they continued towards the bar.

     Cassie shook her head in disbelief, returning her attention towards the ocean, mumbling to herself, "The hell kind of name is 'Hangman?' Out of all the call signs in the world, you pick 'Hangman.'" Now that her once-tranquil moment had been interrupted, Cassie decided to make the remaining trek across the street and up the lopsided porch steps leading to the front door. As she moved to retain her keys from the built-in zippered pocket of her shorts, the rotting floorboards of the deck collapsed underneath Cassie's right foot, causing her to yelp in surprise. She looked down to see her once-white tennis shoe caked in mud and cobwebs that were concealed underneath the porch.

     Cassie heavily sighed, "Dammit." She wasn't exactly sure how to escape her current predicament, as the surrounding wooden planks were definitely equally unstable, especially now that the central one had fallen through completely. She glanced behind her at the seemingly intact steps, and decided to press her luck. Turning her body around, she shuffled the leg that was still above the porch to the edge, then grabbed onto one of the front pillars to pull herself up. She heard more reiterations of the initial cracking sound, forgoing the stairs altogether as she jumped straight down onto the grass.

     Taking a step back to critique the damage, Cassie's chest sunk as she saw just how much work needed to be done. She couldn't say she was exactly surprised as the Victorian house was built at the end of the nineteenth century and, as far as she knew, hadn't gone through any renovations aside from a few interior cosmetic changes. After all, the vintage charm was what appealed to the renters — having the floor give way from underneath them, however, may not be exactly what they had in mind.

     Cassie walked around the house to go in the back door, firstly reaching over the rotted picket fence to unlock the gate, which emitted a loud screech from the rust that had accumulated on the metal. She was careful to be light on her feet on the back porch, but figured it would be in a somewhat better condition since it was used far less often. Removing the keys from her back pocket, for real this time, she unlocked the screened-in door that led directly into the sole bedroom of the cottage.

     The sunlight streaming in from the door exposed the dust particles taking up residency in the air, another reminder for Cassie to clean the house since it's been vacant for months since their last renter's lease ended. She shut the door behind her, stepping around her open suitcases sprawled across the wooden floor — another task she's been putting off — to enter the bathroom and start the water in the shower since it took ages to heat up. She took the opportunity to attempt to tackle the task of unloading her suitcases, but soon got discouraged once she saw how poorly of a job she packed them. Her excitement to leave for North Island was evident in the way clothing, shoes, toiletries, and other miscellaneous things were quite literally thrown inside the bags in such a manner that it appeared like a miniature tornado had blown through her belongings.

     By the time the shower had warmed up to a tolerable temperature, Cassie made a large enough dent in unpacking that warranted her satisfaction for the day. At the very least, she shoved her suitcases into the closet, hiding them behind the double bifold doors so she wouldn't twist an ankle while walking in the middle of the night. Cassie was in-and-out of the shower and quickly got ready for the night, anxious to dissipate her lack of human interaction since returning to the island.

     Removing her mother's old leather jacket from the desk chair in the bedroom, Cassie grabbed the last of her necessities and did a once-over in the mirror hanging above the chest of drawers before exiting the house — through the back door, this time.

     As Cassie continued down the quarter-mile-or-so walk to the Hard Deck, she faintly smiled at the interior music flooding the street from all of the open windows and doors. She ascended the wooden steps into the bar, immediately eyeing the entourage of Navy members surrounding the pool table in the rear.

     On the opposite side of the room, the dark-haired member of the aforementioned pair, "Coyote," noticed the new entrant of the building.

     He hit Hangman's chest with the backside of his hand, "Dude, look. It's the girl." Hangman lowered the beer bottle from his lips, squaring his shoulders towards the main doors.

     Hangman's arrogant grin from earlier returned as he greeted the newcomer, "Well, well, well." At first, Cassie didn't realize that he was talking to her since his face wasn't all that recognizable due to how far away they were from each other earlier. His attitude, however, knocked all the pieces into place. Hangman met her on the other side of the pool table, casually leaning against it, "I wish I could say I was surprised to see you here." He nonchalantly shrugged, "But they can never stay away."

     Cassie laughed, raising her eyebrows, "There's a 'they,' huh? So, I'm just one of your many admirers?"

     Hangman stood up straight, purposefully moving his body closer to hers, "No...you're just one in a million." He maintained their eye-contact, letting his undefeated pick-up line inevitably work its magic. He nodded in the direction of the bar, "Can I get you a beer?"

     She pressed her lips into a smile, patting his chest in a faux-flirtatious manner, "Yes, you can...Hangman." Cassie watched as Hangman's ego visibly inflated as she remembered his name from their brief interaction. Even within a minute of speaking to him, she knew exactly what kind of guy he was; consequently, she was completely guiltless as she led him on and cashed a drink out of it.

     Hangman slid by Cassie, intentionally a bit close for comfort, calling for the bartender's attention, "Penny, m'dear..." Cassie's teasing smile dropped from her face, becoming replaced with a genuine one as she glanced around the crowd.

     None of them knew how to strike up a conversation after witnessing Cassie and Hangman's previous conversation, presuming that she was acting serious — none except for the only other woman in the group, who cleared her throat and nodded towards the patch sewn onto the sleeve of Cassie's jacket, "Task Force 77?"

     She glanced down at the patch, genuinely forgetting about its existence, "Oh, yeah..." Cassie picked her head back up to directly respond to the woman, "...this is my mom's."

     The woman raised her eyebrows, "Oh, she served?"

     "Uh..." Cassie shrugged, "...civilian contractor. And TOPGUN instructor." That latter title grabbed everyone's attention.

     "'TOPGUN instructor?'" The Latino man repeated. "So...are you going to be our instructor, too?"

     Cassie gently shook her head, "Oh, no. I'm here to fly, same as you."

     Hangman had returned from the bar and heard Cassie's last sentence, stopping mid-stride to ask, "You're a pilot, too?"

     She cocked an eyebrow, accepting one of the beers he was juggling in his hands, "Yeah, is that a surprise or something?" Cassie returned her attention to the rest of the group, "Name's Birdie." As observant as she was, Cassie missed the brief glance shared between the woman and Hangman at her call sign.

     The woman began the routine introductions around the makeshift circle, delivering a faint smile in mutual respect, "I'm Phoenix." In sequential order, Cassie was briefly introduced to Payback, Fanboy (the Latino), Coyote (Hangman's partner), and Bob.

     Following Bob's quiet greeting, everyone expectedly glanced towards the last, quite young, member of the group. He looked up from where he was teeing up his shot, unaware of all the eyes on him.

     He immediately straightened his posture, "Oh — uh, I'm...Einstein."

     Cassie's smile widened in recognition of the name from her brief, walking around the pool table towards him, "You're my new wizzo?"

     Einstein swallowed the apparent lump in his throat before nodding, "Yeah."

     After doing a once-over and realizing the visible age gap between him and the others, Cassie jokingly asked, "How old are you? Sixteen?" Einstein's gaze dropped to the floor at the round of laughter, resembling that of a kicked puppy. "Hey," Cassie lightly punched his shoulder, "I'm glad it's you." She pointed towards him and faced her fellow aviators, brushing them up on his credentials, "This kid's the smartest one out of all of us. Skipped, like, three grades, graduated high school early, perfect SAT, had so many AP credits he was put in classes with all upperclassmen as a Plebe." She returned her attention towards Einstein, grabbing onto his shoulder, "I'm excited to fly with you." His previously stoic face broke into a faint smile, which Cassie saw as a win since he seemed like the kind of guy to not outwardly express his emotions.

     She continued, "First order of business, however..." Cassie took the pool cue from Einstein's hand in exchange for her beer, "...hold this for me for a sec, yeah?" Einstein reluctantly accepted the bottle, laughing under his breath which further encouraged Cassie. She took Einstein's previous position on the table, lining up to hit the same ball he was about to seconds ago. With her back towards the front doors, Cassie was unaware of the new arrivals entering the bar. From her peripheral vision, she noticed something — or someone, rather — catch Phoenix's eye, but initially disregarded it.

     Cassie was prepared to make her shot, but Phoenix's voice stopped her dead in her tracks, "Bradshaw!" Cassie's eyes instantly shot up towards Phoenix, immediately looking over her shoulder to see if it was the same person she had in mind.

     Lo and behold, Bradley Bradshaw had entered the Hard Deck, donned in his characteristic aviator sunglasses and Hawaiian shirt. Cassie expected nothing less.

     From his spot near the entrance, his face broke out into a grin at the sight of the familiar blonde, "Hey, Blackwood!" As Bradley made his way towards the pool table, he asked aloud, "Thought you were waiting up for me?"

     Cassie returned to her previous position, playfully asking, "Did you call? Because you know I never check my voicemail."

     Bradley stopped behind her, nodding his head in agreement, "Yeah, that's for sure — ugh!"

     Cassie glanced over her shoulder to where she had hit Bradley in the gut with the butt of her cue, an amused grin gracing her face, "Oops." She completed her shot, knocking in two solid-colored balls into different holes. She handed the cue out towards Einstein, "Sub in for me, would you?" He accepted and returned her beer in response.

     Recovered, Bradley was now looking Cassie over as she faced him, leaning her bodyweight against the wooden edge of the table.

     He nodded down at her, disregarding Cassie's prior version of greeting him, "You look good."

     She nodded in a similar manner, "You do, too." Cassie pointed towards his face, lips curling upwards in amusement, "I see the stache has finally grown in. Y'know, you'd fit right into a porno with that thing — you deliver any pizzas lately?"

     Bradley smirked, matching her tone, "No, I've been cleaning pools, actually. Better tips." Cassie pressed her lips together, desperately trying to suppress her laugh, but to no avail. Wordlessly, she took a step forward and Bradley instinctively opened his arms to welcome her with a hug. She rested the side of her face against his chest, goosebumps arising from the radiation of his familiar warmth. Bradley smiled in reminiscence of the last time they had seen each other, and in appreciation that their paths had crossed yet again.

     When they separated, their arms lingered around each other. The initial giddiness of reuniting had dissolved, replaced with genuine content. "I missed you."

     Cassie briefly rubbed his back with her hand, still in its previous position from their hug, "I missed you, too."

     "Christ, are you two about to do it on the pool table?" Cassie and Bradley broke apart at Hangman's comment, glaring at the two of them from across the table. Soon after, Cassie noticed the other members' exchanged glances — undoubtedly about her and Bradley's obvious fondness of one another — but Bradley ignored anyone else's gaze aside from Hangman's.

     He sarcastically smiled as he slung an arm around Cassie's shoulders, subconsciously pulling her into his side, "Sorry, Hangman, were you waiting for me to tell you that you look good too?"

     Hangman took the cue out from under Bob's arm, right as he was about to make his shot, "I am good, Rooster." He ensured to make direct eye-contact with Bradley as he took his shot, knocking a striped ball into a hole. "I'm very good." Bradley shook his head in disbelief at Hangman's arrogance. "In fact, I am too good to be true." Bradley glanced down towards Cassie, who was looking straight back at him with an equally incredulous expression.

     She shook her head, "You should've heard the one he tried to pull on me earlier."

     Bradley's eyebrows shot up, "On you?" He shook his head, making a repeated tsk noise with his mouth, "Too bad I missed it."

     Sitting on a barstool perpendicular to the scene, Maverick was reaching into his pocket for his wallet to pay for the tab that was forced upon him. The fact that Cassie hadn't realized Maverick was there was some form of odd luck, especially with her eagle-eye observational skills, but Maverick felt that he was pushing said luck when the son of his late best friend entered the bar thereafter.

     When he glanced back up towards the bartender to give her his credit card, his eyes immediately got caught on the sight over her shoulder.

     Maverick looked taken aback, quickly asking, "Uh, Penny?" She turned around from the beer taps and cocked an eyebrow in anticipation. He squinted his eyes in focus, eventually pointing past her, "What's that?" Penny followed his line of vision and exhaled a laugh at his — surprisingly — paternal tone.

     She leaned against the bar beside Maverick, "Well, if I had to guess...I'd say that's Rooster with his arm around Birdie." Maverick rubbed his eyes and then blinked, making sure he wasn't seeing things.

     At Penny's amused expression, he clarified, "...that's my daughter."

     She slowly nodded, "I'm well aware. I've known her since she was born."

    "...with Goose's son."

     Penny pushed herself off the bar, returning to filling up two customers' glasses, "And here I was, mistakenly thinking you'd be thrilled about this."

     "No, I just — " Maverick quickly shook his head in confusion, " — when? How?" After returning the glasses to their rightful owners, Penny listened to Maverick's effort in explaining the gravity of the situation, "Rooster isn't that fond of me, like, at all. Not in the slightest. To the extent where I assumed he would actively avoid my entire bloodline."

     Penny narrowed her eyes before deeply sighing, leaning her forearms beside him on the bartop, "Why do you think she goes by 'Blackwood,' Pete?" He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, unsure of what point she was trying to make.

     Suddenly, his eyebrows relaxed only to shoot straight back up as he pointed in Cassie and Bradley's direction, "For him?"

     Penny scoffed, "No, not just for him." She waved her finger around in a circle, referencing the entire establishment, "For everyone in this bar. Hell, everyone on this damn island." She straightened her posture and wiped down the water rings left from the sweat of the glasses, "On the mainland, 'Mitchell' is as generic as they come, but here," she struck her index finger onto the counter, "that name has a bad rap. You know that." Penny hung her towel over her shoulder and gently shook her head, "She doesn't need that weighing her down." Maverick let Penny's words sink in as she momentarily left his sight, forced to view the sight in front of him.

     From his spot adjacent to the pool table, Payback made an attempt in breaking up the tension between Bradley and Hangman, "So...anyone know what this special detachment's all about?"

     "Well, a mission's a mission," Hangman answered. "They don't confront me. What I wanna know..." he teed up another shot, "...who's gonna be team leader?" He holed in another striped ball. Hangman addressed the rest of the group, "And which one of y'all has what it takes..." he locked eyes with Cassie, "...to follow me?" She narrowed his eyes at his tone, unsure of whether or not he was trying to make some sort of threat towards her. Bradley glanced down to see Cassie's reaction towards Hangman's impromptu pep talk, only to register the newfound animosity between them.

     He took it upon himself to reply, "Hangman, the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave."

     Fanboy lowly whistled as he laughed, "Whoo..." Everyone exchanged glances with one another, aside from Cassie and Bradley whose eyes were locked onto Hangman. He and Bradley obviously had some sort of history, which Cassie was trying to figure out the specifics of from their tone of voice and expository body language. Hangman dialed back his wide smirk, smoothly moving around the pool table to end up directly in front of Bradley.

     "Now anyone who follows you...is just gonna run out of fuel." Hangman's grin returned for a second as he positioned himself on the edge of the pool table, "But that's just you, ain't it, Rooster? You're snug on that perch," he pushed himself off the table and stepped towards Bradley, who was smirking in amusement at Hangman's ego trip, "waiting for just the right moment..." Hangman stopped and made a point to look over at Cassie. She didn't shy away, waiting for his next words while maintaining his stare that she knew he deemed as threatening, but it was anything but. The corners of Hangman's mouth shrugged, foreshadowing the return of his signature grin when he returned his attention towards Rooster, "...that never comes."

     Hangman exaggeratedly nodded, "I love this song." He glanced towards Cassie, "Don't you, too, Birdie?" She furrowed her eyebrows at his last words before his departure deeper into the bar, not having even paid attention to what song was playing over the speakers. Her eyebrows soon relaxed in realization, scoffing at his remark.

     Slow Ride.

     Phoenix stepped up beside Cassie and Bradley, following the latter's line of vision towards Hangman's retreating figure, "Well, he hasn't changed."

     Bradley shook his head, "Nope. Sure hasn't." He slid his arm from Cassie's shoulders, "I'll be right back." Cassie and Phoenix watched as he walked in Hangman's general direction.

     The former glanced over at Phoenix, "So, you know Hangman pretty well?"

     She lowly chuckled, "So, you know Rooster pretty well?" Cassie laughed, shaking her head as she glanced at the floor. "The infamous Birdie...when you first told us your call sign, it crossed my mind, but — "

     Cassie looked up, eyebrows stitched together, "What did?"

     Phoenix raised a brow, "You really don't know?" At Cassie's continued confusion, Phoenix scoffed, "Rooster never shut up about you, even all those years ago. Shit, I always thought you two'd be hitched with three kids by now."

     Before Cassie had the chance to reply, Fanboy announced, "Check it out. More patches." Everyone glanced towards the entrance to see more pilots filing in.

     "That's Harvard, Yale, Omaha — shit, that's Fritz," Payback narrated.

     Fanboy asked no one in particular, "The hell kind of mission is this?"

     "That's not the question we should be asking," Phoenix replied. She addressed the remaining members of their original group, "Everyone here is the best there is." She shrugged, "Who the hell are they gonna get to teach us?"

     Coyote nodded towards Cassie, whose gaze was currently locked on the remainder of the beer in her bottle, "You got any idea, TOPGUN instructor's daughter?" Cassie looked up from her beverage, immediately feeling uncomfortable under everyone's sudden gaze.

     She sighed, shaking her head, "None. I was given the same information you all were." The music suddenly halted in the bar, resulting in everyone's collective groans. Cassie glanced in the direction that Bradley disappeared in, vaguely seeing the back of his head near the piano. Her smile quickly returned to her face as she grabbed onto Einstein's forearm and dragged him with her, "C'mon, Einstein. This is part of your initiation." He struggled to keep up with Cassie's rushed pace as she forced them through the crowd of people, but she would not miss the beginning of the performance. At the sound of Bradley beginning to play a few chords, Phoenix gathered the rest of the crew and followed Cassie's route to what would soon become the heart of the bar.

     Bradley was brushing off his "rusty" piano skills (that were never actually rusty) when Cassie and Einstein arrived at the piano. Einstein noticed the excited smile on Cassie's face, the second time he's seen it — the first time being when Bradley entered the bar to begin with. She instructed him, "Okay, just follow along. The chorus is easy to get down, don't worry about the verses," she lowered her voice slightly as if telling Einstein a secret, shaking her head, "no one really knows them anyway." Cassie returned to her normal volume before shrugging, "But who knows, we've never had someone with a photographic memory before."

     Phoenix, Fanboy, Bob, and Payback soon came over, filing in beside Cassie and Einstein by the piano. Cassie could tell from Phoenix's equally excited manner that she had heard the song before, quickly realizing that it made sense due to Phoenix and Bradley's previous encounter.

      Penny rang the bell again, causing the bargoers to begin a unified chant, "Overboard! Overboard! Overboard!" Cassie peered over her shoulder, but couldn't tell who was being thrown out from behind the mass of people. A few moments later, Bradley glanced up towards Cassie who did a final once over of the crowd. Once their chants had died down, she gave him the nod of approval.

     He didn't wait another beat, immediately jumping into "Great Balls of Fire," "You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill — "

     "Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

     Cassie noticed Einstein effortlessly singing along and hit his arm, "You know this song?"

     He nodded and shrugged, a small grin on his face, "Yeah."

     She shook her head in amazement, soon coming to the conclusion that Einstein's playlists are definitely exclusively older music, "Of course you do."

     "Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

     Cassie and Einstein rejoined the crowd with the next verse, the former laughing at Bradley's added shivering while singing, "Ooh, that feels good, baby." Still recovering from reacting to his theatrics, Cassie picked up after the next verse. Bradley faced his front-row crowd who were singing the song just as enthusiastically with him, "I wanna love you like a lover should. You're fine, and so kind — I'ma tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine!

     "I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs. I'm getting nervous, but it sure is fun." Bradley quickly glanced up towards Cassie, "C'mon, baby, you're driving me crazy — "

     "Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

     Bradley began the piano solo, the crowd's cheers egging him on. He looked up and stared directly at Cassie as he did four consecutive glissandos, making her laugh at his effort of impressing her. Quickly glancing down to make sure he was over the right keys, Bradley returned his gaze to her as he began a key attack, bopping his head along to the same rhythm. He began moving his head around erratically to harbor more cheers, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

     Right before they were about to fall off and interrupt Bradley's performance, Cassie grabbed them and slid them on her own face instead. She walked behind Bradley to the opposite side of the piano, taking up the vacant space on the bench next to him.

     Bradley smiled, looking directly at her when he resumed singing, "Kiss me, baby — " Perhaps the sunglasses held some kind of confidence-boosting powers, but Cassie felt a sudden urge to take the lyrics literally. She pulled Bradley's face towards her own and kissed him, the velocity of his face against hers causing the sunglasses to slightly ride up her nose. Cassie meant to make the kiss brief so as to not disrupt the continuity of the song, but to her own surprise, Bradley briefly removed his hands from the piano altogether to grab onto her waist and deepen the interaction. The crowd began cheering loudly, even their fellow aviators — well, most of them.

     At their unified, "Ooh," Cassie pulled herself away so Bradley could finish where he left off, but kept her arm casually hanging from his nearest shoulder, hand resting in midair over the space between his shoulder blades.

     He was so taken by surprise that he needed to temporarily focus on which keys to press, but returned to singing directly towards Cassie — and she to him — for later verses, now with an idiotic grin on his face, "I wanna love you like a lover should. You're fine, and so kind. I'ma tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine!"

     Cassie glanced across the piano at Phoenix, remembering what information she relayed to her minutes prior. The rational portion of Cassie's mind acknowledged that the words were simply lyrics to the song, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering if there was even a remote chance that there was some truth behind the words coming from Bradley's mouth. She had to admit, even if they really were solely song lyrics to him, while she sang them...

...she meant every word.

     Her attention returned to Bradley for the final verse, joining the rest of the bar in screaming at the top of their lungs, "Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!" Everyone cheered, whooping and hollering. Cassie removed her arm from around Bradley's shoulders to let him do an encore, consisting of his improvisational dance moves to the sound of the audience chanting, "Rooster! Rooster! Rooster!" Cassie clapped as she watched, momentarily glancing back over towards Phoenix. She had her brows raised with a knowing expression on her face. She raised her beer bottle in Cassie's direction, but before Cassie had a chance to respond, a pair of arms looped themselves around her waist and stood her up from the bench on which she was seated.

     After being turned around, Bradley appeared in front of her, grinning ear to ear. Cassie went to give him back his glasses, but he grabbed her hand, preventing her from doing so.

     He shook his head, "Keep 'em. They look better on you, anyway." Bradley put her hand over his shoulder as he returned his to her waist, Cassie instinctively clasping her hands behind his neck.

     From outside the bar, the man thrown overboard, Maverick, watched with a longing look in his eyes. Memories of Goose came flooding back, both good and bad. As the crowd roared when Bradley initiated another kiss between him and Cassie, Maverick had to admit, they looked a hell of a lot like Goose and Carole. It was almost cruel how much Bradley resembled his father, and yet, Maverick and his relationship was nonexistent — similar to his relationship with Cassie. While theirs wasn't exactly "nonexistent" per se, it was definitely far from what Maverick wishes it was. His life was full of regret, and watching Cassie and Bradley together was yet another reminder of what could've been. In another life, Maverick would be inside the bar with them, cheering them on alongside everyone else while giving little "dad" remarks every so often, like "Watch where you put those hands," or "Make sure to leave some room for Jesus."

     In another life, Goose and Carole would be inside the bar with them, too.

     At this moment, Maverick heavily considered dropping out of leading the mission. Cassie and Bradley were happy and successful. They had gotten this far without him, who's to say they couldn't fly this mission without him, too? But then again, Maverick knew for certain that this mission was no textbook operation. It required some out-of-the-box thinking, which was explicitly Maverick's forte. In this scenario, playing it a little unsafe may give the mission's aviators their best bets of survival.

     And if anything were to happen to Cassie or Bradley...Maverick could never forgive himself.

ooh, baby, this was a long one — but i reread this three complete times thru and didn't get bored of it one single time, so that's saying something. anyway, i couldn't wait to get out another chapter of slow ride (did u catch the title cameos? "slow ride" being in the actual movie was 100% coincidental but it worked out in the best way possible haha) and now we've been introduced to cassie and bradley's dynamic 😝😝😝

they make me go feral or something idk all ik is that i was SMILING like an IDIOT while writing their scenes. i literally physically laughed out loud when i first wrote and then later read over the pornstache part. i hope u enjoyed that bit bc i was quite literally on the verge of tears

anyway #brassie4ever #someonegivemaverickahug