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It really started with Goose back when Maverick was younger and too confused about the entire situation to question it.
Maverick had never exactly had a caring home growing up which meant he had learned to take care of himself as he bounced from foster home to foster home and he thought he did a pretty good job of it - but apparently Goose and the flyboys had other ideas.
“What are you doing?” Goose asked him early one morning as they stood in the barracks communal kitchen during basic training.
“Eating breakfast,” Maverick casually replied, lifting the can of high-caffeine energy drink to his lips. It tasted like berries and battery acid but it did the job. He winced at the taste.
“Maverick,” Goose said, his eyes wide, “that’s not breakfast and you're not even eating it.”
Maverick rolled his eyes, Goose could be so dramatic sometimes.
“It’s fine,” he said firmly, finishing off the drink and feeling the artificial energy course through his veins.
“Ready to go?” he asked and Goose nodded reluctantly which was good cause they were currently late for their mandatory eight mile run.
The next morning Goose caught him on his way to the kitchen and pressed a granola bar, an apple, and a water bottle into his hands before their workout.
Maverick blinked at him in confusion and Goose sighed, “just eat it,” he said.
Shrugging, Maverick munched on the granola bar and sipped the water. Whatever, he thought to himself.
Only, it didn’t stop there. Over the course of their flight school days Goose seemed to grow more and more concerned about Maverick’s habits and insist he change them.
When he found out that Maverick had only the loosest idea on what doing laundry meant he dragged Maverick to his and Carole’s house to use their laundry machine and let Carole teach him how to properly sort his clothes so he stopped accidentally dying his uniform bright pink.
Then he discovered that Maverick’s idea of “sleep” was really just short cat naps on the way to do things so that he could stay up all night doing more important things like studying and working out. Goose disagreed with that philosophy and started only going to sleep once he’d ensured that Maverick was asleep also.
Maverick didn’t know what to think of his friend’s behavior. On one hand, everyone called him Mother Goose for a reason and on the other hand it was kinda annoying to be treated like a little kid. But in the end he let it slide and didn’t say anything - maybe that was a mistake.
________
When Maverick and Goose got to Top Gun they were thrilled. The best of the best, that’s what they were, and Maverick was determined to win the trophy.
They met their other teammates on their first day there and sized up the competition. There was an overly friendly guy called Slider who kept cracking jokes to another guy who spent a lot of time glaring at Maverick named Iceman. Two hulking guys who were never seen without the other one near - Hollywood and Wolfman respectively. And some others, a loud guy named Chipper and a quieter guy called Sundown.
Goose and Maverick stuck to themselves initially, content to only talk to each other, but that didn’t last long. It was hard to keep to yourself when you were living with and spending all your time with other people so they all got to know each other.
Maverick learned that Slider told filthy jokes and Chipper could cook decently well and Sundown was a master at playing pool.
And they all learned that Maverick was shit at taking care of himself.
The first time they noticed it was with Goose. They had all gone to the O club after an exhausting day of hops and everyone was tired but not willing to quit just yet.
Goose was over in the corner playing pool with Hollywood and Maverick was sitting at the bar nursing a beer and talking with Slider.
As the night went on he got more and more tired and talked less and less which Slider didn’t seem to mind because he was also noticeably tired. Eventually, Maverick’s eyes slipped closed and his head fell forwards, coming to rest at an awkward angle on the bartop cradled by his folded arms.
He woke moments later to someone gently shaking him and he blearily blinked an eye open. Goose was standing in front of him with a crowd of confused aviators standing behind him.
“C’mon,” Goose prompted, “you can’t sleep here, you're gonna get a crick in your neck,” he said.
Maverick groaned, burying his head back in his hands. “M’ fine,” he mumbled tiredly.
Goose sighed, “do I have to carry you back to the car?” he asked.
“No,” Maverick muttered stubbornly.
When he made no move to get up though Goose huffed under his breath and then there were two arms wrapping around his waist and hoisting him up off the chair. Maverick squeaked briefly in alarm and then went limp in Goose’s arms again, maybe this was just a little better than walking he thought.
He could barely see the shocked expressions on the other’s faces as Goose carried him past them bridal style but they were definitely there.
Once Maverick was deposited in the backseat of Sundown’s truck and everyone else had piled in he closed his eyes again as they started to drive and slumped against the window in exhaustion.
Distantly, he heard Slider whispering to Goose.
“What was that about?” Slider whispered.
“He would’ve slept there otherwise,” Goose replied, “kids not the best at taking care of himself,” he muttered and Maverick could practically envision him shrugging his shoulders casually. He was too tired to argue though.
“Huh,” Slider muttered contemplatively.
_______
The next morning, Maverick woke up predictably hungover and exhausted from his lack of sleep. His alarm blared loudly once, twice, three times, and he groaned, rolling over to get farther away from the offensive sound. He made peace with the fact that he would be late for classes and get yelled at probably.
Then there was a hand tugging his blankets away and shaking his shoulder gently. Maverick blinked his eyes open slowly in confusion, the room coming into focus around him. Slider was standing at his bedside and holding a handful of blankets he’d pulled off of Maverick’s bed.
“Wha-”, Maverick groaned pitifully, making grabby hands for his nice, warm blankets but Slider only shook his head.
“C’mon, get up or you’ll be late,” he insisted, “I could hear your alarm going off from down the hallway,” he said, putting the blankets down on the floor.
Frowning, Maverick rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake up and shuffled around in his bed to try and rouse himself. Slider watched him silently with an odd, fond expression on his face that Maverick was too tired to puzzle out.
Finally, he dragged himself into an upright position and stood on unsteady legs next to his bed. Without thinking, Slider extended his arm to help keep Maverick balanced and equally without thinking, Maverick accepted it.
“Jesus,” Slider giggled a few moments later as Maverick stumbled towards the bathroom. Maverick shot him an unamused glare and Slider clarified, “you have some serious bed-head man,” he exclaimed.
Maverick huffed and slumped his way to the bathroom which Slider thankfully left him alone to do. When he emerged he found Slider armed with a bottle of pomade and a sly smile.
Slider gestured back at the bathroom and said, “we gotta do something about that Mav.”
That’s how Maverick found himself sitting perched on top of the closed toilet seat as Slider stood in front of him and ran his fingers through Maverick’s staticy hair, smoothing it down with various hair products until he was satisfied.
Slightly more awake now, Maverick could appreciate that this was a little weird especially coming from his teammate.
Clearing his throat, Maverick croaked out, “D’ Goose put you up to this?”
Slider only hummed noncommitmentaly and smiled softly, continuing to run his hands through Maverick’s short brown hair. Sighing in defeat, Maverick let his eyes slip closed and drifted off to a half-awake state under Slider’s ministrations until it was time to go. It was oddly peaceful to share his morning with Slider.
________
Admittedly, Maverick’s wardrobe was lacking a little bit. He pretty much only owned Navy-issued clothing and a few decent shirts to wear for going out because hell, that was all he really did anyway.
Those clothing options didn’t leave much room for lounge wear clothes though so when they had rare afternoons off Maverick usually just commanded his teammates’ soft clothes to wear.
Today was one such day and Maverick had snagged Wolfman’s giant hoodie, a habit he’d picked up recently after he discovered how truly comfortable the other man’s hoodies were. The massive article of clothing draped down well past his shorts-clad knees, swamping Maverick’s small body in a swath of faded orange.
He yawned loudly, scrubbing a hoodie-covered hand across his face as he padded out of his room and into their communal kitchen/rec room. Goose and the others were sitting around the kitchen table and turned in their seats when they saw him. Their faces melted into matching expressions of softness and fondness. Maverick stiffened - weirdos, he thought absently.
“Hey,” Goose called out when he reached him.
“Hi,” Maverick replied, sniffling.
“Are you cold?” Slider asked, poking his head around the table to examine Maverick.
Maverick shook his head, “no, why would you-” he started to say before Wolfman cut him off.
“You look…very soft,” he muttered, staring at Maverick intently.
Maverick felt his cheeks heat up under the scrutiny of his teammates and he shrunk farther down into his seat. “Thanks?” he murmured in confusion.
Goose nodded in agreement, “yes, very true,” he said, “but seriously Maverick do you own any of your own clothes?” he asked with mild concern.
Maverick opened his mouth to protest and then realized that if he denied it Goose would probably just go through his closet to prove his point. He shook his head.
“Alright,” Goose said, clapping his hands together decisively, “group shopping trip? We have the afternoon off today.”
The others nodded and smiled in agreement and reluctantly Maverick nodded too.
“Coffee first though,” Maverick added firmly.
They all piled into Goose’s truck for the short trip to their local shopping mall. Maverick was sitting in the back, pressed in between Wolfman and Hollywood’s huge frames after Slider had giggled that he was too small to sit in the front seat. That had earned the other aviator a firm smack from Maverick and a loud laugh from Goose. Traitor.
They arrived at the shopping mall a few moments later and Maverick hopped out, eager to be out doing something for once that wasn’t Navy-related.
“Don’t get too far away,” Goose warned as he locked up the truck and went to join him in crossing the parking lot.
Maverick huffed and slowed to a stop to wait for the others.
Once they were inside the aviators spread out to flank the men's clothing store and find things for Maverick to wear. Hollywood came bounding back to Maverick and Goose with a stack of shirts in his arms like a puppy returning with a ball.
“How’s this look?” He asked proudly, sticking out the clothes.
Maverick nodded and hummed happily, it actually didn’t look half bad.
“Is it the right size?” Hollywood asked, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.
Maverick opened his mouth to answer but Goose beat him to it, “Yeah,” he said.
“How do you-” Hollywood said then shook his head with a grin, “nevermind,” he said, jogging back into the store to find more clothes.
Maverick shrugged and continued wandering through the store with Goose close behind him.
The others all reported back with a steadily growing pile of clothes that Maverick found frankly ridiculous. Iceman plopped a stack of jeans into his arms with a proud smirk.
“Seriously,” Maverick said, “I do not need all these clothes.”
Iceman arched an eyebrow, “I’d beg to differ,” he muttered with a pointed glance at Maverick’s current shoddy attire. Maverick stuck his tongue out at him.
“Just try them on and see what you like,” Slider prompted and Maverick huffed, retreating into an empty dressing room.
A few minutes later he was dressed in a new tee shirt and pair of jeans and he had to admit that it was kinda nice. The cream colored tee shirt was very soft in that new, unwashed, kind of way and the jeans fit perfectly.
From through the dressing room door Maverick heard Goose call out, “Let’s see Mav!”
Shaking his head fondly, Maverick opened the door and did a little spin to the crowd of appraising aviators. Slider grinned as Goose wolf-whistled which made Maverick blush, and Hollywood laughed loudly, extending a hand out to touch the soft fabric of Maverick’s new shirt.
“Very soft,” he murmured approvingly, his fingers stroking the fabric over Maverick’s shoulder. Maverick nodded, smiling, and practically melting into the touch from the other man in a way which he didn’t care to comprehend at the moment.
In the end Maverick ended up choosing about seven tee shirts and a few pairs of jeans and shorts. They walked over to check out and Maverick quickly slapped Goose’s hand away from his wallet.
Goose shot him an innocent look that Maverick didn’t believe for a second and Maverick firmly said, “It’s my stuff, I’ll pay for it.”
“Fine,” Goose relented, raising his hands in a placating gesture as Maverick approached the cashier.
Maverick let out a breath as he paid for his things. He didn’t like to accept charity, even from Goose. And he still couldn’t wrap his mind around what the others were doing. Sure, they were all being nice, but a part of him still couldn’t shake the idea that there might be an ulterior motive.
He shook his head, brushing off the thoughts as he headed back to the truck with his new clothes.
_______
They had a Hell Week the following week. It was the Navy after all and everyone was expected to pull their own weight and stay ready physically for any emergency, especially the top-of-line pilots whose bodies had to be trained to sustain Gs.
Knowing that didn’t make it any more fun though.
Maverick emerged from the salt water pool spitting and gasping as water poured off his body. His eyes burned from the water and his lungs squeezed after too many seconds without air.
“Fuck,” Wolfman spat, he dragged deep breaths of air into his lungs as he clutched the edge of the pool side and gasped, his eyes wide.
Maverick nodded, choking out, “yeah.”
They were doing water training exercises which involved the exciting task of almost fucking drowning inside a capseal submerged in the pool in prepration for any times they might get close to drowning while out on missions.
Goose and Slider watched them clamber out of the pool with equal looks of fear and resignation on their faces. It was their turn next. Slider quickly handed a towel to Maverick and he took it with a grateful expression, wrapping the fabric around himself as he shivered hard. Slider laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Their next task was a standard Confidence Course, a long stretch of obstacles made up of unforgiving wood, placed strategically far apart so that the aviators had to make daring jumps in between them.
Maverick eyed it with apprehension, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm up after the cold pool water.
Goose shook his head in exasperation, “fuckin hate these things,” he muttered, “didn’t we do enough of this shit in basic?”
Sundown huffed, “guess not,” he murmured sadly.
“Ok, Lt.’s let’s go!” Called out an instructor.
Maverick gritted his teeth, clenching his fists firmly - he’d done this before he could do it again he thought.
The whistle blew and Maverick shot forward before his teammates could, scrambling up and down walls and throwing his smaller frame forward with as much momentum as he could muster. He gripped the top of a wooden ledge and heaved himself up and over, hitting the muddy ground hard and wincing before racing forward once again.
He could hear the others panting behind him and their quiet exclamations of “shit,” as they scrambled through the obstacles. He kept going.
Soon Maverick came to a set of elevated bars suspended over a particularly muddy patch of ground. He swallowed hard as he eyed the big gap between where he stood precariously perched on one low bar and the first high bar.
Gritting his teeth with determination he crouched down low and sprang up and out, desperately reaching forward to grab the bar. He missed it entirely, his short arms simply couldn’t reach that far and he landed hard in the mud on his stomach, all the air knocked out of his lungs.
Maverick laid in the mud, desperately trying to get air back into his body as he gasped and shook with the force of the impact. Slowly, he picked his head back up to see all the others watching him. A wave of humiliation washed over him and shoved himself up to his feet on shaking limbs.
Maverick didn’t look them in the eyes as he stumbled past, moving around the obstacle with his cheeks stained red.
“It’s alright,” Goose muttered as he passed him, reaching an arm out to pat him on the shoulder. Maverick shook his head firmly. He kept going.
It was dark by the time they finally finished and knowing that they had to do it all over again tomorrow did not raise anyone’s spirits. The others stumbled over to the showers to wash the mud and pool water off of themselves but Maverick stayed put, he knew what was coming.
Sure enough, Viper found him standing outside their barracks with his head held high in stubbornness and determination.
Viper frowned, “the instructor told me what happened today Maverick,” he said, Maverick stood stiffly at attention and nodded solemnly. “Fifty push ups for punishment,” Viper said.
Maverick nodded, “yes sir,” he muttered as he carefully lowered himself to his knees. The gravel of the ground dug into his palms as he began.
Viper stood by and counted them out, “one, two, three, four..”
With every repetition Maverick cursed himself silently for messing up. Damn his stupid short body, he should have tried harder. What if it was Goose who needed him on the other side of that jump? The thought made him push harder and liquid dripped down his face - he couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears.
“Forty, forty one…forty five, fifty..” Maverick distantly heard Viper say. He kept going.
“Maverick,” Viper said after a moment but Maverick was beyond hearing him. He listened to the sound of Viper’s footsteps retreating a few seconds later.
Maverick kept going well beyond his required fifty push ups. He didn’t stop to think about how sore he’d be tomorrow he just kept hearing the humiliating sound of his body hitting the mud.
Minutes or hours later, he couldn’t tell, he heard footsteps again. He didn’t look up to see who it was, he just kept going.
“Maverick?” He heard someone gasp. “We’ve been looking for you man.”
That was enough to startle Maverick into looking up and the movement threw him off balance, his arms collapsed underneath him and he fell down onto the harsh gravel.
“Shit,” the voice said. Blearily, Maverick opened his eyes to see Sundown crouching over him. His head swam.
“C’mon Mav, let’s go in,” Sundown said. Then there were arms reaching around him and pulling Maverick to his feet. Distantly he felt his sore muscles protesting but he was too numb to register the feeling.
“What were you thinking?” Sundown asked, slinging an arm around Maverick’s shoulder and supporting most of his weight as they stumbled back to the barracks. He curled into the precious warmth emanating from the other pilot.
Maverick sniffled, the question bringing him back to reality.
“Messed up,” he croaked out. The darkness hid the tears begging to drip down his muddy face.
“Oh Mav,” Sundown crooned, “everyone messes up.”
Maverick shook his head, the tears coming faster as the exhaustion of the day caught up to him.
Eventually, they reached the barracks and without asking him to, Sundown took Maverick around the back way to the showers to avoid the questions of the others.
“Hell,” Sundown added as they walked, “Goose landed on his ass so hard he’s got a massive bruise,” he said.
That earned a weak chuckle from Maverick as Sundown propped him up against the shower wall.
“You gonna be alright?” Sundown asked as he walked away.
Maverick nodded, squinting through the darkness to see Sundown’s concerned face.
“Thanks,” he murmured, ducking his head down.
Sundown nodded firmly, “of course, any time,” he said with a faint smile.
________
It was about two weeks later when Maverick woke up feeling less than his best. His stomach churned as he lay on his bunk and thought about his choices. The sheets twisted around his legs uncomfortably and he felt oddly warm.
Logically, he knew that this might have something to do with the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping very well the last few days or that he’d been sort of living off of energy drinks since Goose was out on leave and not there to shove real food down his mouth. Still, he thought, it wasn’t fair.
It was still dark in the barracks and he could faintly make out the outline of Goose’s empty bed.
He groaned, Goose would surely know something was up if he tried to ignore the queasiness in his gut and push through the day but Goose wasn’t here.
Soon enough daylight was lightning up the room and Maverick was forcing himself to get to his feet. He swayed dangerously and had to pause, gripping the side of his bunk to keep from falling as his head swam. They had a rare day off today though and he wanted to go to the beach with the others, he’d be fine, he thought.
Maverick wobbled his way out of the room and into the common area, making his way slowly due to the nausea rising in his stomach.
When he reached the common area he plopped down on the couch and curled into himself, briefly seeing the other’s concerned expressions before his head was buried in the couch cushions. He groaned quietly, shutting his eyes tight and willing the bad feelings to go away.
A moment later there was a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Mav?” a quiet voice whispered.
He cracked one eye open to find Wolfman staring down at him with a look of worry on his face.
“Hmm,” Maverick acknowledged him.
“Are you ok?” Wolfman asked softly.
“Oh, yeah,” Maverick muttered, keeping his eyes closed, “for sure.”
Then he heard another voice join in, “Uh huh,” Iceman muttered unconvinced, “we’ll see about that,” he said.
Maverick opened his eyes again to see that a crowd of aviators had formed next to the couch where he lay. His brow furrowed, why were they here? He thought in confusion.
He must have said that last part out loud though because Iceman was chuckling and saying, “cause we care about you dumbass.”
Oh, he thought absently.
A gentle hand landed on his forehead, feeling his temperature. Slider pulled away, “shit,” he muttered, “you're burning up Mav.”
That makes sense, he thought distantly. His head felt fuzzy.
Unsteadily, Maverick tried to sit up and Slider caught his shoulders. “Easy,” he murmured, helping Maverick sit up and lean against the back of the couch.
Maverick swallowed, collecting his thoughts, “M’ fine,” he croaked out.
Slider shook his head sadly, “I don’t think so buddy,” he said. His hands were still on Maverick’s shoulders and they rubbed the skin there absently.
“We should get some fluids in you,” Wolfman said.
Hollywood nodded, “and an ice pack too,” he added.
Maverick shook his head, a well of emotion opening up in him in his unstable state. “But the beach…” he whispered, his eyes wide in fear. Surely they’d all want to go to the beach instead and leave him here, and he opened his mouth to say as much but Iceman cut him off.
“We’d rather be here,” Ice said firmly, “the beach will always be there another day.”
Maverick stared at them all, his fevered brain trying to catch up. All the others nodded in agreement. He felt tears well up in his eyes against his will, “You-” he croaked out, gaze flipping between all of them.
“Yeah man,” Slider murmured, “we care about you, that’s what we’ve been trying to tell you…” He whispered, a hint of sadness and fondness in his expression.
Tears slipped down Maverick’s face and he blindly reached out towards them in shock, seeking comfort.
They obliged of course and soon he had an armful of aviators wrapped around him. Slider wrapped his arms around Maverick’s shoulders and Iceman tucked himself behind Maverick, holding him carefully to his chest. Hollywood gently ran his hands through Maverick’s hair and Sundown and Wolfman laid reassuring hands on his legs.
Maverick sniffled after a long moment, “s-sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from disuse.
“No, no,” Slider said softly, “nothing to apologize for Mav,” he corrected.
Maverick shook his head a tiny bit, “sorry for being so hard to manage..” he muttered.
A mass of hands reached towards him to pat any part of his body they could reach. He practically melted into the touch against his will.
“That’s stupid,” Iceman said, “you're not hard to manage.”
Slider huffed good-naturedly, “well, maybe a little bit,” he chuckled. That earned him a slap from Iceman.
Maverick chuckled tearily, he tucked his head farther into Ice’s chest and tugged Slider’s arm around his waist carefully, nestling himself into the pile of aviators.
“Thank you,” he murmured right before an exhausted, fever-induced sleep took him.
When Goose returned it was suspiciously quiet in the barracks. He wandered around, poking his head into empty rooms and wondering where everyone was. A voice in the back of his head told him not to call out loudly like he wanted to.
Finally he got to the common room and peeked in. He found a mound of aviators clustered together on the large couch in a sprawl of limbs, fast asleep. Right in the middle was Maverick, tucked against Ice and Slider, the larger pilots carefully arranged so as not to squish him. There was an ice pack balanced on Maverick’s forehead.
Goose grinned to himself. So they really were taking care of him, he thought to himself with a rush of warmth towards his teammates. It was good to have more people on the Maverick Protection Team.
Silently, he found his camera and snapped a quick picture of the cute scene before retreating back down the hall and shutting the door quietly behind himself.