Chapter Text
There are two types of naval aviators: Hangman, the dickhead that gives the Navy a bad name, and literally everyone else.
When you first met him, you didn’t even know he was in the Navy, you thought he was just some guy who kept his hands to himself at the Hard Deck, constantly flirting with you and trying to buy you a drink or get you to come home with him. But, since you had common sense you ignored him and that cheeky smile, deciding to continue to spend the night with your friend instead.
“What an angel like you doing in a dump like this?” he had asked that day. You turned to see what looked like the human version of Apollo delivering you what you knew was his signature smirk, guaranteed to make bimbos fall into his sheets with 99.9% accuracy. You couldn’t care less.
“You callin’ this bar a dump? Then why the hell are you here?” He quickly straightened up, his 6 ft frame towering over you sat you say politely on your bar stool, not affected by his size whatsoever.
“Where are you from?” he asked, completely changing the subject as his tone changed from sultry to questioning, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Why do you need to know?” you asked, still sipping on your drink, through the small black straw that came with it.
“That’s a new accent. Never heard that one before”
What, you’ve never been ‘down under’?” you asked, putting on a harsh American accent as you teased him with quotation marks.
“Hmm. Australian, that’s a first,” he said, looking at you like you owed him something. You finally relented, sighing as you turned your chair fully in his direction and turned your attention from your drink to him.
“Can I help you...”
Hangman, but you can call me Jake…” he said smirking as he winked at you, a shiver immediately running down your spine.
“Hangman, is that a weird nickname?” you asked, arm leaning back on the counter.
“It’s my callsign” you were almost dumbfounded. This jerk was in the military?
“Anyways, you never answered my question” he continued, deciding to take a seat next to you, ignoring whether anyone else was sitting there. You sighed again, almost wanting to reach up and rub your temple in annoyance.
“What question?” you asked your annoyance seeping into your tone
“What an angel like you is doing in a du-place like this?” he asked again, changing his wording.
“I’m here with a friend, but I think they’ve got other plans…” you told him, slightly confused as to why you were telling the handsome stranger these things. He curled an eyebrow at you, and you tilted your head out the side, pointing to where a woman dressed in a tank top and denim shorts was making out with a man in pilot uniforms in the corner. They seemed to be having fun but you were still slightly annoyed that she had left you for some army guy.
“I’m sorry sweetheart, must be rough.” he seemed sympathetic, almost sweet enough to convince you to continue the conversation, but without missing a beat, he turned to you, smirking again and said, “wanna make it even?”
Your eye twitched in annoyance. “No.” And with that, you stood up, leaving to pay your tab and go back to your shared apartment with her. You knew where she hid the key, it would be fine unless she bought a guy over maybe you should’ve said yes, get it first no that would be mean plus the guy seemed like a douche. Thank god you’d never have to see him again.
*
The world hates you, doesn't it? Not only did you forget to put on your alarm that day, meaning you could be late for work, but when you actually arrived, there was only one seat left, the one right next to the said ‘douche’ that you had never wished to see again. Grumbling to yourself you quickly fixed up a messed-up collar and faulted your hair down after you'd rushed through an hour or prep time in 30 minutes and sat next to him, ignoring how his wide-eyed gaze bore holes into you and how the toothpick he had in his mouth fell to the floor.
“Well, well, well, if it isn't the chick from ‘down under’. How was your night?” he teased, watching you roll your eyes as you ignored him. Your superiors walked in and you all quickly stood up, getting into attention as they told you about this mission and how you were chosen specifically because of your qualifications. Then Maverick walked in. The Maverick. One of the best top gun pilots this world has ever seen, your idol. You tried your best not to gawk at him, the words flowing out of his mouth going in one ear and coming out the other as he said something along the lines of ‘training’ and ‘skills’. When he dismissed you to get to your jets, you were too nervous to actually talk to him, heading straight out of the hangar instead only to hear a set of footsteps catching up with you.
“You didn’t even tell me your callsign! Or your name! Hello?” Hangman asked, walking backwards as he waved his hand in front of you, breaking you out of your zone.
“Hhm?” you asked looking up.
“Are you okay? You looked out of it?” he asked, eyebrows raised in confusion. You shook your head, huffing your laugh.
“Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I’m just- I love Maverick, he’s like me hero” you allowed yourself a sliver of fangirling, watching Hangman smile, getting ready to make fun of you.
“Don’t wanna hear it” you told him hand in the air as you made your way to the change room to get into your flight suit.
He raised his hands in the air in surrender. “I didn’t say anything!” but before you could leave he grabbed you gently by the forearm.
“Still haven’t told me your name sweetheart,” he told you expectantly. You huffed, ignoring the ‘sweetheart’ that sent a wave of butterflies down to your stomach. Where the hell did that come from? Douche, remember? DOUCHE!
“It’s Y/N. Callsign Nyx” you said, walking off.
“Wait, what? Nyx liKE THE COSMETICS BRAND?” he called out, the sound of your laugh making its way to his ears.
“No, dumbass, like the goddess” you called out without looking at him, your figure finally disappearing as you closed the door to the change room. It was then that Hangman realized he had to change too, so he ran towards his room, racing back out within minutes to look for you again.
*
Everyone had shown off their skills, managing to impress you each time, especially Rooster, Phoenix and Hangman. Who knew the man was really as good as he looked? Deciding against telling him that he didn't look like he needed the ego boost, you found yourself walking alongside Hangman for the second time in one day, the same sound of footfalls reaching their way to you signifying his entrance.
“So…Nyx?” he asked.
“Yeah, Nyx. What about it?” you looked at him, watching a bead of sweat drip down his head after the push-ups he had been forced to do last since the sun god had a deathwish and went twice.
“What’s it mean? Where'd you get it from? Which goddess?”
“Well like I said, it is based on a goddess, a Greek one. The goddess of night. I got it after I completed a mission in Iran where we had to sneak into their camp in the dead of night and I was the only one who managed to actually get the target, and because I was a big Greek mythology nerd back in the day…”
“Back in the day? What, yesterday? You look way too young to be a top gun graduate” he told you as you smiled at his compliment.
“Well, thank you Jake, but I assure you I am a top gun graduate. I uh- I actually graduated this year.”
“THIS YEAR?!”
“Shut up! Good god, you’re loud! Yes, I graduated this year and was put onto this team because apparently, my aim is a necessary skill for this mission.”
“It better be. I haven't heard of anyone being put into missions like this with such little experience! No one you look like is barely over 21!”
“For your information, I’m 23- well almost, it’s my birthday next month, but close enough, so ha!” you joked, smiling softly as the melodious tune of Jake’s laughter filled your ears.
“You know, you're not as bad as I thought you’d be, Jake. I’m not gonna lie, the way you talked to me yesterday really made me think you were just a typical douchebag, but you’ve got layers, like a douche onion” he snickered again at your joke.
“So are all the girls in Australia beautiful and hilarious or is it just you?” he flirted, watching our eyes roll again, again ignoring the blatant compliment that sent a warm tingling feeling throughout your body and a small blush across your cheeks.
“Is it really such a big deal that I'm Australian? I mean there's nothing that really shows!”
“You’re accent is a dead giveaway”
“Well you're not that good yourself, Mr Texas!” you laughed as he frowned before smiling back at you as you both reached the hangar door needing to separate to enter your respective change rooms.
“Well…I’ll see ya around Y/N,” he told you nodding slightly.
“Yeah, see ya around,” you told him softly.
“God, the accent” he muttered, knowing you’d hear it. You huffed out a laugh and smacked his chest, watching him exaggerate as he grasped his chest with a dramatic look of hurt scrawled over his face.
“Ow!”
“Oh, shut up! It's not even that bad!” you shouted, smiling before you opened the door and left, leaving Hangman alone with a weird tingling feeling on the tips of his fingers, almost itching to follow.
follow you