Lock & Key: Part One - B.B

y/n 'locket' mitchell is the daughter of pete 'maverick' mitchell. she and bradley 'rooster' bradshaw used to be best friends as they grew up together. but as y/n left for flight school in london, they didn't exactly leave on the best of terms. the newest top gun mission has gotten the best pilots in the U.S to fly and that includes both Locket and Rooster - unbeknownst to them. will they get back to how they were? or will they remain seeming enemies?

this is a y/n story written in second person! your call sign is: Locket.this follows the plot line of Top Gun: Maverick somewhat. i hope you enjoy!🤍

-

You planted your left booted foot on the sandy ground beneath you and swung your right leg over your Dad's motorbike. You lifted the slightly clammy helmet from your head, careful not to ruin your low bun you had hair sprayed to perfection that morning. Your Dad opened the seat compartment, and held his hand out to take your helmet. You smiled, handing him the white helmet branded 'Locket' on the front. He placed it snugly in the bike and closed it, nodding his head towards the open glass doors of The Hard Deck Bar. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, following behind as he stepped up onto the deck.

You hadn't been back to Fightertown in years. And now, with your Dad, history lies everywhere you go. The bike ride to Penny's bar gave you deja-vu and it was only the first day of being here. Walking up the steps and hearing loud, drunk, chatter along with 50's and 60's rock music playing in the background. Some things never change.

Your Dad hadn't told you much about what this experience was going to be like. You had no clue what you were walking into, no clue what the mission was, and no clue who was going to be there. It wasn't going to be any of your friends from college, you knew that much. This was back to your roots. Your home town. Your past.

And walking into The Hard Deck was as if you were stepping into a time machine, throwing you back a decade or two.

Your Dad was nervous. You could practically feel the anxiety emanating from him. You didn't want to be in his way or crowd him because you knew this was even more overwhelming for him to be back than it was for you.

It was so crowded you could hardly see the bar. There were so many people and so much noise. The smell of beer and sweat and occasional wafts of perfume and cologne flooded your senses and you reached forward to hold onto your Dad's jacket childishly, not wanting to lose him in the crowd of people. He was searching for Penny and you knew it. And his eyes suddenly locked.

As if it was God himself parting the red sea of drunk navy aviators, Penny was standing behind the bar, grinning and working as she always did. Your mouth lifted into a smile and you saw your Dad's shoulders drop in relief. Her eyes locked on Dad. And then you. And then Dad again. And you were being pulled to the bar, your hand still on your Dad's jacket.

"Pete Mitchell, who'd have thought you'd come back?" She smirked, placing her hands on her hips.

"Not me." Your Dad answered keenly.

Penny averted her gaze from your father and her eyes landed on you. She almost did a double take, looking you up and down.

"Jesus Christ, what did you feed her?" She remarked to Dad, pointing to you.

"Hey Penny," You grinned, leaning over the bar for an embrace.

"Hey y/n," She giggled into your ear before pulling away.

She stood for a moment, just taking you and your Dad in, before jumping at the realisation she hadn't offered a drink or a seat.

"Shit, please sit and I'll get you your usual?" She assumed, looking at Dad.

He nodded with a thankful smirk.

"And you? Jesus, you can drink now, that's not scary at all," Penny laughed.

You giggled, "Just a beer would be great, Penny."

She nodded and turned to get your drinks.

You looked around you, taking in your surroundings. It was like everything and nothing had changed. New people but still some familiar faces. New decor but still the same mugs on the ceiling. You usually hated the crowded navy bar scene but something about this felt like home.

"So, do you know anything about the mission, yet?" You asked, spinning in your barstool to face your Dad.

He sighed and looked at you, "You know I wouldn't be able to tell you, even if I did."

You squinted your eyes at him, "So that's a...no?"

"It's not a yes or a no. It's a...nothing."

You scoffed and leaned your elbow onto the bar, cupping your chin in your hand. You could feel your father's eyes on the side of your head. Part of you wanted to ask what was bothering him, and the other part of you wanted to stay silent.

But he spoke first.

"I haven't seen you in uniform for a while."

You didn't move your gaze.

"Yeah, it still fits." You joked.

He nudged your arm with his, "Of course it does."

You smiled, looking at the side of his face. He was looking around him, too. But there was something in his expression - in his eyes - you could feel was wrong. You remember that look all too well.

"You okay?" You asked.

He nodded, "It's just...odd."

"I know. I'm here, though. I'm your wingman."

Your Dad chuckled and looked at you, "Always have been,"

"Always will be." You finished your saying with a grin.

You both shared a moment of bliss. And then a moment where you both knew how the other felt. Happy but overwhelmed.

"Two Maverick special's." Penny announced, sitting two perfect pints in front of you and your Dad.

"Now, y/n, let's see if you drink the same as your father." Penny joked.

Your Dad tutted, "No way. y/n is going to drink responsibly and gradually."

"Much unlike her father at her age." Penny winked at you, making you disguise a smile from view.

Your Dad just shook his head but your attention was quickly drawn from the conversation. Your ears had perked up at the sound of laughter. A very specific laugh. It was as if your brain was silencing and muffling every other sound in the bar out, to find whoever the mystery laugh belonged to. Your eyes searched the room, attempting to focus on the voice you could hear clearly now.

The music had switched off all of a sudden, causing everyone in the bar to boo at whoever had turned the jukebox off. You slid off of your seat like your body was telling you to move and as you heard a piano beginning to be played, your curiosity moving your feet for you. You walked around the bar, ignoring your Dad's calls of your name behind you. You felt as if you were floating around the room, your feet feeling light under you.

But you were brought to an abrupt halt when the first four distinctive chords of a song played.

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!"

Your heart stopped and sank as you stood in the middle of the room, people rushing past you, bashing against you, in attempt to follow the sound of the music. But you didn't need to see the mystery musician to know who it was.

You saw a glimpse of him through a gap in the crowd. And there he was. Bradley Bradshaw. Brad.

His Hawaiian shirt and aviator glasses with the same sandy hair and moustache as his late father confirmed to you who it was.

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!"

The room sang and it felt like a stab to your chest. Your mind couldn't help but return to the day in the bar where you and Brad sat atop the piano while his Dad played with his Mother in his arms and Dad singing along with us. It was probably my earliest memory and one of the most important ones I've ever had.

He was so like Goose. It hurt your heart and your head to look at him, to even be in the same vicinity as him. You two hadn't spoken in 8 years since you left for London after high school. And you hadn't exactly left on the best of terms. Add that in with how your Dad pulled his application from the academy without telling you or him the reason. Yeah. You didn't think he'd be happy to see you.

You regained some sort of feeling back in your feet and when you turned to leave, you saw your panicked Dad behind you, standing in the same, shocked way you were. Your heart sank for a second time and you moved past him slowly, before running as fast as you could out of the bar.

You paced beside your Dad's bike, debating whether or not to steal it while you took in deep breaths and tried to drown out the noise of Bradley and the bar. And when you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind you, you stopped your pacing and turned to look up at the deck where your Father stood.

Tears began to fall from your eyes before you let out a sob. Your Dad jumped down the steps and crashed his body into yours, embracing you in his arms. You gripped onto his leather jacket, letting your tears fall onto the light material. You could feel his chest moving with his own sobs, his hands fisting your uniform.

"Please don't tell me he's here for the same reason I am." You sniffled.

Your Dad sighed and rubbed your back, "He is."

You groaned, pulling away from the man in front of you and wiping your tears. You hated seeing your Dad upset but you were beginning to feel a little more pissed off.

"How am I supposed to sit in a class with him, Dad? He hates me, now." You sighed, leaning against the bike and wiping your eyes.

"Honey, he doesn't hate you. He might be a little cold to you but he could never hate you. It'll be shit at the start, but once you find your way in training, I'm sure you two will be fine."

"I can't do this, Dad. I can't sit next to him and fly with him and pretend it doesn't feel horrible. And it's not as if he's on the best page with you, either."

"I know. But I'm still here and I'm still doing what I need to do. And that's what you've gotta do, too. You can't back out. You're a Mitchell. It's unnatural to back out." He smirked, sniffling a little.

You rolled your eyes and cracked a smile, leaning your head back to let out a groan and a huff.

"Come on. Let's get out of here. I owe Penny half my wage, already."

-

You tucked in your polo shirt as you looked in the mirror, finishing up getting ready for the day. Your hair was hair sprayed back to a crisp per usual and your uniform looked as green as it always did.

You hardly got any sleep last night. Your mind just kept playing the image of Bradley over and over again until it was debilitating. You couldn't switch off, and the most sleep you got were a few half-hour naps throughout the night. The nerves had ramped up. And it wasn't just because of Brad. It was anxiety over your Dad and how he was doing and handling things. It was anxiety over how you could hear him get up during the night and pace around the house. It was shit not being able to help your Dad. You two were both dealing with different things and neither of you really wanted any help.

A knock lightly tapped on your bedroom door and you responded for your Dad to come in. He opened the door and slowly poked his head around, and then his body. You smiled at him, and he smiled at you as you both looked at each other in full uniform.

He took a deep breath and sighed, his shoulders slouching with fatigue. You shared a knowing look of what the day ahead could bring.

"You've got this, hon." He winked.

You sighed, grabbing your phone and checking yourself in the mirror one last time.

"So do you, Dad. Let's go."

You both arrived at base early so he could brief with the Admirals. You agreed to keep everything low-key. You wanted to have your own path and be your own person, despite him being your teacher. And you didn't want to seem any different to your fellow pilots.

You walked around base, pacing the same area you'd be learning in until you heard something. So when you began to hear voices emerging, you cleared your throat, took a few deep breaths and cracked your neck.

"Act normal. Everything's normal." You whispered to yourself.

But when the first face you saw coming towards you was Bradley's, your body automatically did a 180 turn and walked in the opposite direction toward the toilet's. Your brain couldn't even stop you. You reached the bathroom stall and looked into the grubby mirror at yourself.

You continued to take deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down. You could hear everyone settling in their seats. Maybe if you just snuck in, it would be fine. You'd sit at the back and not be noticed. You ran your wrists under the cool water and pressed them to the pulse points on your neck, feeling the cold water drip down your skin, before opening the bathroom door and heading towards the chatter with fake confidence.

When you reached the huge room, you walked down and, luckily, there was a seat at the very back. You thanked whatever God did that for you and sat down as quietly as possible, hardly moving the chair out to avoid any screeching. Everyone was in their own conversations, not even noticing how you slipped in. You already felt like an outsider but you weren't going to let it get to you.

You only noticed as you straightened in your seat, that Bradley was two seats in front of you at the aisle. You gulped, fidgeting with the ring on your middle finger. You were sat on the outside seat, so you wouldn't be obviously seen. But he was sitting by himself.

"Attention on deck."

You were brought out of your thoughts and stood up straight with no hesitation as the familiar words registered in your ears.

You and all your fellow pilots stood at attention, watching as Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates walked onto deck, Bates walking to the podium to stand.

"Morning. Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated." He ordered.

We all sat obediently. No one looked around at their surrounding. Your eyes were trained on the back of Bradley's head.

"You're all Top Gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best." Admiral Bates spoke.

A few pilots looked around. One guy in particular down the front who seemed like a cocky asshole from here. Your mouth was so dry. Your foot bounced up and down uncontrollably under your desk, your fingers still fidgeting with your ring. Hopefully your Dad would be in front of you soon and you'd be able to take a breath.

"But that was yesterday. The enemies new 5th generation fighter has levelled the playing field."

You watched Admiral Bates as he spoke, trying to listen to everything he was saying.

"Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman inside the box."

Your attention was driven to the the cocky guy at the front who looked back at the only other female pilot. She rolled her eyes and slyly rubbed her middle finger against her temple. You smirked and eased a little.

"Your instructor is a Top Gun graduate with real world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master."

Your shoulders dropped slightly as your heard light footsteps from behind you. Even a small smile lifted on your lips. Just the presence of your father made you more at ease. You were in this together.

"His exploits are legendary. He's considered to be one of the finest pilots this programme has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death."

You filled with pride a little and kept staring forward at Bates, while a few other pilots looked behind them at who their instructor will be. Your foot had stopped bouncing and even though you were still fidgeting with your ring, you felt a lot less nervous.

You felt him near and pass you, and you watched as everyone looked him up and down. And then your attention caught Bradley.

"I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Callsign:...Maverick."

Admiral Bates left the podium.

You eyes trained on Bradley again as you saw him stiffen at the sight of your father. He rubbed his forehead and bowed it a little before looking back up as your Dad began speaking. You cringed and felt your heart rate rise a tad.

"The F-18 NATOPS contains everything they want you to know about your air craft." Your Dad started, displaying the heavy and thick manual in his hand.

"I'm assuming you know the book inside and out." He said.

"Damn right." "Yeah.""You got it. "Damn straight, we do."

Dad dropped the manual in the bin in front of him, the loud crashing sound echoing throughout the room. Everyone leaned forward in reaction. You leaned back into your chair with a smirk.

"So does your enemy."

"And we're off." You whispered to yourself under your breath.