A/N ››››› Wow this took forever to figure out. But here it is! Also, yes, this takes place two years before Penny buys the Hard Deck, but in my head, she works there before she buys it from the previous owner.

It was entirely possible that the whole Top Gun class would be banned from The Hard Deck by the end of the week.

Or murdered, if the look on Penny's face was any indication.

The bartender stormed out from her station behind the bar, crossing the room in long, purposeful strides. She looked every bit like an Admiral herself, ready to ream out a young officer for a fly-by.

A hand came down on Fanboy's shoulder, diverting the WSO's attention from Penny's warpath and onto his friend who offered a smile that somehow managed to be equal parts amusement and sympathy. "Good luck," Payback said, his eyes flicking from Fanboy's face back to Penny.

The woman stooped down, yanking out the jukebox's cord and cutting off Van Morrison mid-lyric. The resulting quiet was short lived as the bar filled with cheers and applause from the other patrons.

"The next idiot to play that song is getting thrown overboard," Penny announced, prompting the applause to swell once more in agreement with the order.

Payback raised his eyebrows before turning back to Fanboy. "You're gonna need it."

Fanboy nodded in agreement. He was definitely going to get banned if she didn't show up by tomorrow.

The pilot patted the backseater's shoulder before heading off towards the doors to rejoin the rest of the aviators headed back to base, leaving Fanboy alone at the Hard Deck once more.

As much as he wished Columbus or Payback had stuck around a bit longer, he wasn't exactly sorry to see the rest of the class go. Three straight nights of Ripley and Beaker ripping into him for "pining over that jukebox girl" was enough to have him at the edge of his patience. He was just as relieved as everyone else to hear Blondie singing when the jukebox whirred back to life.

"So you're aware, that rule goes for tomorrow night too."

Fanboy whipped around to face Penny, finding her standing just behind him with a finger pointed threateningly at him. "And if I do have to hear Brown-Eyed Girl again, you're buying everyone a round."

"Fair enough," Fanboy conceded, offering a good-natured smile.

"Good," Penny said, lowering her finger. She didn't move though. Instead, she fixed him with a stern look, as if that would help the warning to sink in and take hold. It reminded him a lot of the look his mother had when she'd catch him reading his comic books after bedtime, coupled with a threat to take them away..

Penny's stare didn't stay as long, the bartender finally relenting with a jerk of her head towards the bar. Fanboy slipped from his seat at the high top, gathering up his friend's abandoned beer bottles before following Penny toward the bar.

"You know," he started, placing the bottles down in front of what had become his usual spot over the past three nights. "I'll even help throw them overboard."

"You'd better," Penny huffed, tossing the bottles a couple at a time into the recycling where they crashed with the others already there. "It's your fault I'm losing my mind."

"If I could control Beaker, I'd be a Captain by now," Fanboy reasoned, smiling appealingly at Penny. The bartender shook her head, throwing the last of the bottles into the bin before heading over to the fridge.

"You know damn well, they only play that song because you keep responding to it," she rebutted, pulling out a new beer for him.

He acknowledged the truth of this with a sheepish smile and tilt of his head. She was right that they only did it to get a reaction out of him, but he couldn't help it. Every time the beginning guitar riff started, his heart stuttered with the possibility that it could be her. None of the other aviators, or even Penny, had experienced the warmth of her smile directed solely at them as some oldies song played in the background like a moment straight out of a movie. If they had, maybe they wouldn't be on him as much as they were.

"It's only Tuesday," Fanboy shrugged as Penny set the beer down in front of him. "I'll start to give up hope on Friday."

"God willing she shows up before then," Penny muttered as she removed the bottle cap, water vapor curling up and out of the neck as the piece of metal clinked down onto the bar.

"She will." The words were out before Penny could even pick up the cap from the bar. She paused, looking up at him with a single skeptical eyebrow raised.

"She will?" Penny repeated, not even bothering to keep the doubt contained to her face. It sept through every syllable, prompting Fanboy to widen his smile as he nodded. He opted not to admit that if she didn't come by Thursday, she probably wasn't coming at all.

He'd worked it out in the spare moments between the drills and lectures and debriefings that filled most of his time in Fightertown. He'd reviewed all of the details from their too short encounter on Friday: from the look of wonder on her face while scrolling through the song catalog, to the subtle upturn of her lips when she spoke about her friends, to the glint her eye as she set up their agreement before slipping into her Uber. He'd turned over her statement that she didn't talk to naval aviators and her friends' confirmation of her stance. He'd considered every possible scenario of how this week could turn out and all with the same precision he brought to analyzing a mission.

"She'll show up," he affirmed. "And some of the pilots are going to lose a lot of money when she does."

The skepticism faded from Penny's face, replaced with a resigned disappointment. "Really? It's a bet?"

Fanboy shrugged. "They bet on everything," he remarked. "I just hope I get to watch when Payback collects his winnings."

This seemed to mollify Penny as she simply shook her head with a slight smile before catching sight of a customer attempting to flag her down from the other side of the bar. "I hope you're right," she said to Fanboy, patting the bartop in front of him before heading over to help the other customer. Fanboy grinned to himself, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes drifted to the closed front doors.

They remained closed, for the most part.

Over the next few hours, the only time the front doors opened was to usher patrons back into the outside world, the already light Tuesday night crowd growing thinner and thinner as last call ticked closer. It was looking increasingly likely that Fanboy would be helping Penny close down the Hard Deck again tonight. A prospect which Penny did not seem ready to resign herself to.

"I don't suppose you have a picture?" she asked, stopping in front of Fanboy with her hands on her hips.

"A picture?" he repeated back, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Of the girl," Penny clarified. "So I can give you a call if she comes in."

Fanboy raised his eyebrows at the bartender, a grin forming on his face. "Trying to get rid of me?"

Penny offered a half-smile as she leaned down on her elbows. "You're too young to be spending your nights here waiting on some girl you hardly know and who may not even show up," she said a little too kindly. "Go downtown. Find someone who actually wants to give you her number. I'm sure there are plenty of girls out there looking for someone just like you."

There were.

Over the past few days, he'd waved off more than a few girls and their offers of drinks or feigned interest in his work as a WSO. His dismissals had sparked criticism from the other pilots and almost indignation from Ripley.

"Top Gun is made for flings," his front-seater scolded. "It's thirteen weeks where you can get your dick wet before heading back to the carrier and your left hand. Stop wasting it on some girl."

The others had agreed with Ripley, Beaker chiming in with his support saying, "Dude, you have got to start seeing what's in front of you."

But if Fanboy only focused on what was and didn't consider what could be, his frontseater would probably be dead instead of here at Top Gun, leading the charge in making Fanboy's life hell.

Only Payback had had Fanboy's back, pointing out how odd it was that Ripley was so focused on Fanboy getting laid instead of finding someone himself.

Fanboy had a feeling that saying the same thing to Penny would get him banned sooner rather than later. Instead, he offered her a shrug. "There are, but I want to see about this one first."

Her half-smile bloomed into a full one even as she shook her head at him. "You're a good one, Fanboy."

"Th-" The word died on his lips as the all-too familiar guitar line picked up, raising a chorus of accompanying groans.

"Jesus Christ," Penny swore, pushing herself away from the bar and towards the bell, giving the rope five sharp tugs. The grumbling amongst the patrons shifted, changing into cheers.

Fanboy spun in his seat to see who had come back to harass him, and his heart jumped in his chest.

Caro.

He couldn't believe he'd missed her entrance. She stood out like a beacon with her bright red top and jeans compared to the working uniforms of the men who slowly made their way to where she stood.

Fanboy turned to Penny, finding the bartender stood with her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. "That's her, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded.

Penny smirked. "If I were you, I'd hurry over then."

"She didn't know..." he started to appeal, but she stopped him with a shake of her head, her smirk widening.

"Rules are rules."

Fanboy hung his head, but he couldn't stop his own smile from his face. She was here. She came. Before Friday. "Ring me out?" He asked, looking back up at Penny.

She nodded, turning to the POS system as Fanboy left his seat and his beer, making his way over to Caro. She seemed to have taken notice of the officers hovering around her and based on the look on her face was growing increasingly apprehensive.

"I got this one," Fanboy said, arriving at the jukebox.

The attention turned from Caro to him, but he couldn't find it in him to care. Instead, his eyes were locked with Caro's, and he watched as her shoulders lowered half an inch at the sight of him.

"Mickey," she breathed.

"You came," he said.

"I came," she nodded.

The other patrons around seemed to catch on to the shift in the atmosphere, nodding at him before moving back to their seats. Caro watched them leave, confusion tugging down her lips into a frown before she turned back to Fanboy.

"What was that about?"

He gestured towards the jukebox. "There may or may not be a ban on that song."

Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Since Friday?"

He nodded. "I'll explain outside."

"Outside?" Caro repeated, disbelieving. "Why?"

His grin turned sheepish. In all of the scenarios he considered, kicking Caro out of the Hard Deck hadn't even crossed his mind. And he'd entertained one course of action that led to them driving down to a Vegas chapel. "You're being thrown overboard."

"I'm what?" Caro blanched.

This was not going to go over well.

"Going overboard," he said. "Penny's kicking you out."

"Because I played a banned song?" Caro asked, looking around the room. From behind the bar, Penny offered a wave goodbye and a sympathetic smile.

Caro paused and despite her impassive face, he could see thoughts racing through her head. He'd be lucky if she didn't just get in her car and leave.

"I promise, I'll explain," he pressed. "And it's going to give you some excellent material to make fun of me with."

"It better," Caro said, shaking her head as she started walking towards the door.

"Rules are rules," Penny called out, and Fanboy stopped Caro with a light hand on her arm.

"What, has the Navy banned walking too?" Caro asked, sounding completely exasperated.

He grimaced. "Part of going overboard is that you have to be thrown overboard."

"You're kidding," she said flatly.

He shook his head.

Caro stared at him blankly, time stretching on as she waited for him to break under her stare. When he didn't, she sighed, stepping forward.

"Don't drop me," she ordered, stepping into his waiting arms and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He scooped her up easily, reveling in the small gasp that escaped her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he assured her, looking down into Caro's face.

She broke eye contact first, readjusting her hands clasped around his neck, and a small thrill shot through Fanboy at the reaction.

He started out of the Hard Deck, passing by a smiling Penny on his way towards the front door.

It was difficult to keep his mind focused on figuring out how he could explain this to her in a way that didn't send her racing for her car. Instead, his mind kept slipping to how soft she was and how perfectly she fit in his arms. He had to focus on keeping his hands in the right places and not how she smelled like vanilla or how if he looked down at the right angle he could probably see–

Boot camp.

Punching out of a plane.

Watching Spock—

"Mickey!" Caro exclaimed, holding out a hand to push open the door he had almost run them into. He muttered an apology as she kept it open with the tips of her fingers so it didn't swing back in his face.

He stopped just outside of the door, leaning down to deposit her on her feet.

Caro found her footing again with a hand on his shoulder, using it for support as she straightened up. "So," she started, turning to face him with arms folded across her chest. "What did you do to get that song banned in four days?"

"You might be impressed to know that it only took three days of excessive playing for the song to get banned," Fanboy answered. "I wasn't here on Saturday."

"Oh," Caro said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "I'm very impressed."

"Thought you might be," Fanboy grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Caro shook her head, something like a smile ghosting across her lips before fading. "Did you think if you played it enough I'd just appear like Beetlejuice?"

"Didn't you?" he asked. Caro opened and shut her mouth again before he decided to save her. "No, uh, my friends played it a lot to mess with me for waiting here all night. Every night."

Caro looked surprised. "Every night?" She repeated.

He nodded, offering another shrug. "Didn't want to miss you."

"That's…" she trailed off, and his stomach tightened, hoping for her to end the sentence with "romantic" or "clever" or even "cheating." Instead, she decided on "Pretty desperate." But her eyes crinkled at the edges, and rather than it coming out as an accusation, there was a fondness to her voice.

Fanboy tipped his head in her direction as an acceptance of the charge. "According to my friends, it's incredibly desperate."

This was what earned him a laugh from Caro, the sound bubbling out of her and causing a warm feeling to blossom in his chest.

"It worked, though," he asserted. "I mean, if it wasn't thé Beetlejuice thing."

Caro shook her head at him, the smile still remaining on her face. "Well, it's good to know you're not the type of guy to be hanging out at a bar on a Tuesday night an hour from close."

Fanboy whistled at her, shaking his head. "That's pretty judgmental coming from the girl who just got thrown out of a bar on a Tuesday night an hour from close."

Caro's mouth hung open for a second before she pushed at his chest. "That was entirely your fault."

Fanboy laughed, holding a hand over the part of his chest that she'd shoved. "If you'd just come on Sunday we'd both be inside, and you'd be having your one drink."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. "Well, since I can't get my drink, I think I might as well go home."

"Or," he started, taking a step towards her, a part of him relaxing when she didn't step backwards to reassert the space. "We could go somewhere else to get a drink."

She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure this is a sign I should stay out of bars tonight. When I get in my car, I'm going home."

"Then don't get in your car."

It came out faster than he intended, slipping from his lips easily and without much thought. All he knew was that he couldn't let her slip through his fingers.

Caro raised her eyebrow and opened her mouth, probably to remind him that she wasn't about to get into the car with a strange man desperate enough for a chance with her that he spent the last three nights waiting alone at a bar for on the off chance she'd show up. Before she could tell him any of this, he spoke again. "Take a walk on the beach with me."

She raised her eyebrows. "That wasn't the deal."

"No," he agreed. "But it's nice out, and you're already here."

Her eyes moved from his face to the beach. "You're not going to get me kicked off the beach are you?"

He grinned and shook his head. "No."

She nodded twice, thoughtfully. "Alright," she agreed. "A short walk."

"Do I get to decide what counts as short?"

"No," she snorted. .

"Will you at least hold my hand?" Fanboy asked, extending an open palm to her, ready for her to entwine her fingers with his.

"We're not holding hands," she said, a smile quirking her lips. She gave his hand a small high-five as she brushed past him, starting towards the path to the beach.

Fanboy stared after her, frozen in place for a moment as he watched her go, a blend of cool moonlight and warm patio lights illuminating her figure against the darkness. She seemed to sense his eyes on her, and maybe just that he wasn't following, because she paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Change your mind?" She asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

The question spurred him into action, and he started after her, pulling at his boots' laces as he went and then hopping as he tugged off his shoes and socks, desperate to be by her side as quickly as possible. She waited for him, watching the spectacle but saying nothing, even when he rejoined her.

The pair walked down to the water's edge in companionable silence, the night air cool on their skin. The beach was largely empty, only a few couples dotting the sand here and there. Fanboy was careful not to pay too close attention to what they were doing, instead keeping his eyes on the girl beside him. The girl he wasn't sure would come despite what he said to the rest of the Top Gun candidates and Penny.

"I'm glad you came," Mickey said, his voice coming out softer than he was entirely proud of. She didn't seem to mind, offering him a gentle smile and shrug, her dark hair falling off her shoulders and down her back.

"We shook on it."

He could have kissed her then.

He could picture it so clearly in his head, reaching out to tug on her hand so she turned back into him, only so he could tilt her head back and press his lips to hers. They would move together in the same gentle rhythm of the waves washing over the shore, and it would be perfect.

He could have kissed her, and he would have, if he wasn't dead certain that if he did he'd probably lose her. And she'd probably slap the shit out of him before she went.

She seemed to notice the awe on his face and misinterpret it as something else. "I'm a bit offended you think I'm the kind of person who doesn't follow through with her agreements."

"No," Fanboy said, shaking his head quickly, breaking eye contact with her to look back ahead. "I just thought you were the kind of person who doesn't talk to naval aviators."

She hesitated for the briefest of seconds before dismissing the remark with a shrug. "I'm not. I just really didn't think you'd be waiting here every night. What did you even do?"

He shrugged. "My friends were here part of the time. The rest I mostly spent talking to Penny."

"The bartender," Caro remembered, and he nodded. "About what?"

"Yours and mine's deal, what it's like for her working at the bar, Star Trek," he said, shrugging.

"Star Trek?" Caro repeated with a laugh.

He nodded. "I've been a fan since I was little. It's why I wanted to fly," he explained. "And join the Navy."

"I didn't think Star Trek was about the Navy," Caro said, eyes focused down the beach.

"It's not," he shook his head. "The characters are part of Starfleet which is kind of like the UN's peacekeeping forces meets space Navy but for exploration and diplomacy."

"Two things that militaries have historically handled extremely well," Caro snarked.

"That's the thing," Fanboy pressed. "The show shows what could be. It teaches us why we need to value diversity and—stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Caro asked, before pressing her lips tightly back together.

"Like you're trying not to laugh at me," he said, bumping her shoulder with his.

"I just didn't think you'd be such a nerd," Caro defended, bumping his shoulder back.

"You say nerd. I say fan," Fanboy protested. He couldn't help but notice that the distance between them had closed some, the space small enough for him to reach out a finger and hook it with hers. He resisted the temptation.

"Anyway, it's how I got my callsign: Fanboy."

Caro burst out laughing, and Fanboy raised his eyebrows at her. "What?!" he asked in mock defense, a smile taking over his face.

"I can't decide if Fanboy or Mickey is worse."

He laughed then, and Caro grinned back at him.

"Alright then, tell me something I can make fun of you for," he charged.

She shook her head at him and shrugged. "Unfortunately for you, I don't really have anything you can make fun of me for."

"Nothing," he said, disbelieving.

"Nope," she answered, popping the p.

"Are you a good dancer?"

She looked up at him with a smile. "I'm a really good dancer."

"Do you have a boring job?"

"I don't have a job," she shrugged. "I just graduated USD and my cert program doesn't start until September."

"Your cert program?" he repeated, and she nodded.

"I'm going to school to become a chiropractor."

"So you're a future doctor who's a really good dancer and also extremely beautiful."

"Yeah," she nodded, beaming up at him.

The urge to kiss her rose up in him again, but he pushed it back down, instead reaching out to loosely tangle his fingers with hers before pulling his hand back to his side.

"Well, what made you want to be a chiropractor?

"Have you ever seen the TV show Bones?"

"You're really funny."

Caro shrugged. "I know."

The two continued along the beach for a moment more in silence before Caro spoke again. "I just think the spine's really interesting–how it coordinates so much of what happens in the body. I just think it's underrated. Like people know it's important, but so few people actually care for it until suddenly they have back problems or get in a car accident."

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

Instead, she offered him a sheepish smile "I totally just have you something to make fun of me with, didn't I?"

"No," he shook his head. "It's a good point."

"Really?" Caro raised an eyebrow. "Because I think I just said that the spine was underrated."

He cracked a smile and shrugged. "Maybe I just think you're right."

The conversation wound from there, Fanboy sharing some of his other interests much to Caro's delight and teasing. Caro continued to amaze him, with her wit and insight and stories of musical festivals and time as a yoga instructor.

It almost felt like no time had passed by the time he finally looked at his phone and realized he had to wake up in five hours.

"So," Fanboy started, prompting a smile from Caro. He wouldn't be surprised if she already knew the question he was about to ask. "This rule about not dating naval aviators…how firm is it?"

"Pretty firm," Caro affirmed, nodding her head.

"Bad experience?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I just live too close to base for there to be any mystique. I've seen this story play out too many times."

"You've seen our story play out?" He asked, brows raised in amusement. "You should have mentioned you were psychic."

Caro stared at him, unimpressed, but he pressed on. "How does it go?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes with a shrug. "You go through Top Gun and split your scraps of free time between me and your friends, but somehow I still end up too attached. After your program's up, you go back to wherever it was you're from or maybe off on some assignment, and I'm left behind. If we're really stupid, we kid ourselves that we can do long distance, but that crashes and burns within a couple of months and ends with at least one person getting hurt."

She went silent after that, her face somber as the moment stretched out before she broke free of her thoughts and shrugged again. "The only way it works is casual and short and that's not for me."

"Definitely not," he agreed.

She shot him a quizzical look. "I can't tell if you're making fun of me or trying to agree with whatever I say so I break the rule."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "No, I just meant-you don't seem like the type to love 'em and leave 'em, and I can't see anyone spending five minutes with you and thinking they could shake you off as just a one night stand."

Whatever stormcloud had hovered over Caro while sharing the reasoning behind her rule seemed to dissipate, and instead she seemed amused by his analysis. "What about you?" Caro asked.

"After one night? I think it'd take at least a month to get you out of my system," Fanboy nodded. "Maybe two, depending on how good it was."

She laughed then, and he grinned, thankful for the sound.

"No, I meant, can you do casual and short? One night stands?"

He shrugged. "Not usually."

"Ohhh," Caro said, taking a step back to make a show of looking him up and down. "So you're the 'I don't usually do things like this' guy?" She laughed as accused him, and he couldn't help but laugh too, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.

"You are!" she exclaimed, coming closer once more to walk beside him.

"In my defense, it's true!" he defended.

"Mhmm," Caro hummed skeptically, bumping her shoulder against his. "Of course it is, Fanboy."

"It is," he insisted. "I'd much rather date you than just go back to your place."

He meant it, and he hoped that she could see it in his face. As much as he would enjoy a night in her bed, making her forget how ridiculous she found his names as she cried them out, it wouldn't be the same if he didn't get to wake up with her in his arms.

Caro flushed, looking off to the side and away from him, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Alright, well, you've still got your question and your guess for my number."

"So I have a chance?" Fanboy asked, tapping at the back of her hand with a finger.

"At getting my number," Caro responded, moving her hand away and offering him a coy look instead..

He bit his lip and nodded. "Ok. Fair enough."

The pair stopped at the bottom of the path up to the Hard Deck's parking lot, Fanboy narrowing his eyes in mock-assessment as he looked over Caro. He had thought about this moment too over the past few days, contemplating what question he would ask to confirm his guess. It had only taken a few hours and seven scratched out options in the margins of his notepad.

"Do you relate to the lyrics?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she stood in thought, and he wondered if the lyrics were running through her head right now in the same way that they filled his. He wondered if she was matching the same snippets of verses to herself that he had when pairing them up with memories and the facts she revealed about herself on their walk.

Finally a small smile turned up the corner of her mouth. "Yeah," she said, and then nodded to herself. "I do."

Fanboy nodded too, waiting a beat and fighting the smile rising to the surface.

"You have a guess?" Caro asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I have the answer," he corrected and her eyebrows shot up as she ooohed at him playfully. "It's 'She Way Out' from The 1975."

Her jaw dropped.

But instead of the surprise or amusement that he had hoped for—or the throwing of herself into his arms that he had dreamed of—apprehension crossed her features.

"How did you—how did you know?"

All of the quips he's come up with about his strategy or cleverness or own psychic ability flew from him in the wake of her unease. Instead, he softened and admitted the truth: "I asked your friends after you left on Friday."

"They told you?!" she burst, indignantly.

"Sort of," he said, tilting his head back and forth. "One of them was going to, but then the other convinced her not to. She said I should at least put in some of the work."

"Sami," Caro breathed. He couldn't remember the girl's name, but Caro seemed so sure, he nodded.

"She gave me the band after I beat her in darts. And bought a couple of rounds."

Caro barked out a laugh at this.

"I looked them up, saw they only had one album and listened to it a few times. It's pretty good."

"It's incredible," Caro corrected. She continued to stare at him before shaking her head. "I can't believe you just listened to it and guessed."

"Well, I had the answers to my questions," Fanboy said. "But that one reminded me the most of you."

Caro started to say something, but he cut her off half-singing, "She said It's not about your body / It's just social implications are brought upon by this party that we're sitting in."

She blinked several times before finally quipping, "And here I was thinking you were about to call me intelligent or compliment my style." As she said this, she fished into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled napkin with purple writing on it and passing it to him.

She Way Out - The 1975

619 - 92 - 113

He looked up and grinned at her.

"I'm still not going to date you," she said, turning around and heading up to the gravel parking lot, Fanboy lightly jogging to catch up with her.

"Of course not."

"But since my friends are off starting their new lives and you're stuck here for a bit, maybe we can hang out."

"Sounds good," he nodded, walking with her over to her car. She pulled open the door, but before she could sit down, he leaned on top of the frame. "What are you doing Friday? Wanna hang out?"

"Text me," she said, offering a grin. "And we'll see."