Pint-Sized Packages

by RabidPlotBunniesAttackkkk

Summary:

Until several weeks into Top Gun, Slider isn’t sure what Goose sees in his pilot, isn’t sure what makes him so loyal to the little shit. Because, for all that Maverick is Ice’s equal (or near equal, yeah, yeah, Ice) in the air, he’s still a scrappy little shit on the ground.

In this story, the events of the original Top Gun will be revisited, tragedy explored, and then onward to the Mission and reconciliation. This started out as a thought experiment inspired by 'Government Documents Stolen for the Ghost of You' by RevengeIsRead and evolved from there.

Notes:

• For My dad who always supports me.

Once again I draw attention to Mav being tiny. Hope y'all enjoy!

Chapter 1: Mav and Goose

 

 

 

 

Until several weeks into Top Gun, Slider isn’t sure what Goose sees in his pilot, isn’t sure what makes him so loyal to the little shit. Because, for all that Maverick is Ice’s equal ( or near equal, yeah, yeah, Ice ) in the air, he’s still a scrappy little shit on the ground.  

Emphasis on the little .  

So, he asks one day when Mav is out chasing after their instructor (and hasn’t that been hilarious to witness), asking Goose straight out. They’re all hanging out in the common room, Wolf and Hollywood playing a game of pool, taking a break from the homework, for once. The look he gets in response makes him sit up straighter in his seat, sensing the attention of the others turning toward them at his question.  

“He’s my little brother.” Goose tells them.  

“Emphasis on the little,” Chipper chirps, grinning.  

Goose snorts. “Yeah, he’s a whirlwind in a pint-size package. But, if you guys give him shit about that, be aware that I will hand you your asses.”  

Slider gives him a look. Goose has always been the most easygoing of them all, leading to his moniker of ‘Mother Goose’ which eventually just got shortened to 'Goose.' “Think your Gosling can’t look after himself?”  

“I know he can’t,” Goose raises an eyebrow with a half shrug. “The messes he gets into? Looking after him is a full-time job.”  

There’s a general laugh at that, but the thought lingers. And the warning.  

“How old even is that kid?” Slider asked the table at large about a week later as they watched Mav and Goose play what looked like a bowling game improvised from some of the mess hall cutlery. “I swear, he acts like he’s five sometimes.”  

Hollywood spoke up, “He didn’t go to the academy but Goose’s been paired with him for like, three years, now? So he’s gotta be 25 at least, right?”  

There was a general murmur of agreement.  

“He is pretty tiny,” Wolf commented. “Though I’m never gonna say that to his face, I think Goose would scold me to death. He’s really protective of him, ya know?”  

Slider remembers their first conversation at the O-Club, basically accusing the pair of taking Cougar’s spot. Goose had looked like he’d wanted to take it up a notch, but it had been Maverick who’d pulled him back.  

“He’s giving Ice a run for his money,” Hollywood nodded at the taciturn man sharing their table. “And I think we can all guess why he hasn’t been here before.”  

Everyone knew the story about Maverick’s father, Duke Mitchell. Nods went around the group.  

“It’s really not fair, is it?” Wolf said, pushing his plate aside, leaning on an elbow as they watched Maverick knock over most of the pins and do a victory dance, Goose looking suitably crestfallen at his defeat.  

“I bet I bench press more than the kid weighs,” Slider spoke up, breaking the seriousness that had fallen over them.   

“Goose has always been a twig,” Iceman finally deigned to join the conversation. “And Maverick is about half his size … I’d take that bet.”  

Hollywood began to smile, thoughts obviously being planted in that crazy head of his. “I bet five bucks that you can’t do fifty pushups with him sitting on your back.”  

“Five?” Iceman scoffed. “For fifty pushups? Make it ten. Each.” Wagging a finger at Wolf.  

“Seven each,” Hollywood bartered.   

“But how will you convince Maverick to be part of the bet?” Wolf said. “You know they’ll want something out of it.”  

“I’ll put in 14 to match yours,” Ice said. “I bet that Slider can do fifty pushups with Maverick sitting on his back. Slider will get your 14 and I’ll let Goose and Maverick split my 14.”  

“You think Goose will want in?” Slider raised an eyebrow.  

“He wouldn’t be RIO for a little shit kicker like Maverick unless he’s also one,” Ice shrugged. “Come’n, you remember how he got his nickname, right?”  

“Shake on it?” Hollywood asked.  

And they did. Then the group approached Maverick and Goose, who had apparently decided to pick everything up before they got yelled at by the Mess Sargent.   

“What’s up, fellas?” Goose asked, casually but obviously putting himself between them and his pilot. Said pilot peered around Goose’s side like a barn cat, cute but vicious, obviously curious.  

“We have a bet going,” Hollywood was apparently appointed spokesperson. “But we need your guys’s help to make it work.”  

“What kinda bet?” Maverick asked, already looking interested.  

Now they just had to sell it to Goose.  

“Me and Wolf have $14 bucks against Iceman’s $14 that Slider can’t do fifty pushups with you sitting on his back.”  

Maverick’s nose wrinkled, obviously offended. “I’m not short!” Identifying the most obvious aspect of the proposal.  

Goose snorted, his stance easing as he pulled Maverick into his side, letting him come into full view of the others. “Yeah, you are, Mav.”  

Maverick honest to god pouted. It was kinda adorable.  

“I’m game,” Maverick shrugged. “We wanna go somewhere else for this, though?”  

They ended up back at their barracks in the common room, Slider limbering up for the pushups and Maverick being convinced to take off his shoes so he doesn’t poke Slider and distract him during the event. A couple more guys had come out of the woodwork and the pot was even bigger now. If Slider did fifty pushups, he basically had it made for the rest of Top Gun. It was a big pot.  

The moment arrived. Maverick got onto Slider’s back as he held himself in the ready position, planking against the common room floor, Goose giving him a hand. Ice was counting, naturally.  

“Ready, set, go!” He called out and the shouting began, both encouraging and booing as Slider paced himself, knowing he could do it, but wanting to do it right. God, the kid was light. He was twenty pushups in before Maverick even began to feel like a burden.   

Thirty-five.   

Forty.   

“You’re gonna loose your money, fellas,” Goose grinned, cheering them on.   

Fifty.  

Slider did five more, just for kicks. Maverick laughing on his back.  

“What do you wanna get with your share, Mav?” Slider heard Goose ask his pilot.   

“Let’s get Bradley one of those fancy plane models.”  

Goose lit up at the mention of his kid. Though he was fair. “We don’t gotta spend all of it on Bradley, Mav.”  

“As his godfather I’m entitled to spoil the kid.” Maverick smiled, genuine. “And you know Carole’s gonna have her hands full if he doesn’t have something to entertain himself with.”  

Goose’s smile was soft and sickeningly fond as he patted his pilot’s head.  

“We’ll come, too.” Iceman interjected, startling Slider. “You should’ve said your family was coming, Goose.”  

Goose rubbed a hand over the back of his head, embarrassed. “Only got the paperwork through last week.”  

“Then I think that calls for a ‘furnishing’ outing,” Hollywood joined the conversation, Wolf at his side. “Can’t have your missus making house without the essentials, can you?”  

And that was how they all ended up carpooling to the nearest shopping mall, Goose obviously grateful for their help and Maverick continually dragging his RIO to various colorful displays. Bradley was going to be one happy kid, given the large bag Maverick came out of the toy store with.  

It was later that night, when Slider had had time to ruminate on the day's events, that the thought came to him.  

“You okay, Slider?” Iceman asked from his desk. “You’re pretty quiet over there.”  

“Was just thinking …” Turning to look at Ice. “Goose really loves Mav like family, doesn’t he?”  

Ice puts down his pen, looking pensive. “Yeah.”  

“And Mav is Goose’s kid’s godfather - that’s a lot of trust.”  

Ice agrees again.  

“So …” Slider concludes. “Maybe we should get on the ‘keep Mav from getting in over his head’ big brother train.”  

Ice snorts, going back to his homework. “That’s a mouthful.” 
 
“It’s a working title,” Slider defends himself, turning away on the bed. “I’m serious though.” 

…  

“I know.”  

 
—————————————————— 

 
“You left some of your things in the dryer,” Chipper said, plopping a mass of laundry in front of where Maverick and Goose were talking at one of the common room tables. 

“Mav,” Goose scolded his pilot, “You were supposed to check on that an hour ago!”  

“And who was it that decided we needed to go over the homework for tomorrow?” Mav rolled his eyes, starting to sift through the pile.  

Slider was up and out of his chair before he really had time to think about it, walking over to take a shirt from Maverick. It was so tiny . It had to be one of Maverick’s.   

“Hey,” Mav’s nose wrinkled. “Give that back.”  

“Just curious,” Slider shrugged, holding the shirt to his torso to measure. “Jesus. You’re short, Maverick.”  

“Am not!” Maverick yelped, looking offended, Goose looking like he wasn’t sure if he should defend his pilot’s honor or laugh.  

“You totally are,” Chipper chimed back in. “I thought someone had snuck in their kid's laundry when I was taking the clothes out.”  

“Fuck you, Chip,” Maverick frowned. “I’ll have you know I’ve got it where it counts.” 
  

“He’s not talking about brains, is he?” Sundown stage whispered to Goose, who really did laugh at that.  

It’s a good time.  

 

 

 

But most good times are cut short too soon.  

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2: Mav and the Fly Boy's

 

 

 

 

It's Viper who tells them that Goose is dead.  

They sit in somber silence for a while after their dismissed, unaware of Viper's last long look before he quietly shuts the door behind him, until Ice stands up, getting everyone’s attention. “I’m gonna go see Mav.”   

Slider follows. The others tag along and the mass exodus to the waiting room begins. Eventually, when they’re allowed into Mav’s room, they immediately know that Maverick knows about Goose. Hell, he’d probably known while they were waiting for the chopper.   

The aviator is curled up in a tight ball under his hospital covers, his hair barely showing. He’s heartbreakingly small. Slider takes the lead as they all shuffle into the room, moods infected by the place and their own sorrow. There’s no question in Slider’s mind as to what Mav needs. With quick strides, he goes to the bed, throwing off the covers, picking the little bundle up and sitting down, cradling Mav to his chest.  

It says everything about the man’s state of mind that he doesn’t even put up a fight or a protest, face blank as he’s cradled against the largest RIO. Slider looks over at Ice, concerned by the man’s out of character behavior. And it’s not just him - everyone looks concerned.  

“…should hate me.”  

The smallest whisper in the world is barely heard in the intense silence they’ve fallen under, all having stayed quiet, giving him time to absorb their presence. They all look up at his words. They watch as Maverick’s - cocky, devil-may-care Maverick - face crumples and silent tears track down his face.  

“I ..." Swallowing with an audible sound, reddened eyes focusing the covers. "I killed Goose.” He says. “You all should hate me.”  

Ice kneels by his RIO, at level with Maverick’s eyes, making him look at him. “Hey - if anyone is to blame its me - it was my jet wash that cause all this.” Tom swallows, his own tears starting to fall. “ I killed Goose.”  

Slider watches this go down, at a loss, for once. It’s Chipper who steps up, giving Tom a gentle whack over the back of his head. Ice yelps, surprised, glaring up at Chipper, looking as intimidating at a wet opossum.   

“Don’t give me that look,” Chipper scolds, serious for once. “If Goose -” He stumbles over their friends name. “If Nick were here he’d be scolding you both. He’d never want you to blame yourselves. He loved flying. And you were his friends.” He puts his hands on his hips, his own face twisting with grief. “And do you really want to put Carole through your self-flagellation? She doesn’t deserve to have to deal with y’all’s guilt complexes on top of everything else.”  

Tom looks half convinced, already turning his thoughts to the bigger picture. Though they all know his guilt is something that he’s not going to let go of in a day. But it’s Pete who lets out a wail of grief.  

“What am I gonna tell Bradley?” He asks, searching their faces for the answer. “What do I tell him?!” And he buries his face in Slider’s chest, hiding from them, the world, and himself. “Oh, god .”  

“You’re not alone in this, Mav,” Tom says, settling a comforting hand on the smaller pilot’s head. “We’re not leaving you with the whole burden. It’s … it’s gonna be okay.”   

And that’s a small comfort, he knows. But it’s all they can do.  

 
———————————————————  

 

Mav wasn’t flying like he had before the Accident, and Slider couldn’t blame him. If he’d lost Ice like that … it didn’t even bear thinking about.  

He listened as Ice tried to talk to Mav. They’d both seen how the kid was packing his things. They both knew he was leaving Top Gun. And … Ice is really bad at pep talks, apparently.  

It was his turn after Ice left them alone. God , he just wanted to pick the kid up and hide him from the world. But Mav was capable of making his own decisions.   

Maybe.  

“Where will you go?” He asked. It seemed like he was always looking at the kid’s back, nowadays.  

A shrug. “I’m not sure. Wherever they send me.”  

“Carole and the kid need you.”  

Maverick slammed his locker shut, whirling on Slider. “They don’t need me , they need Goose !” His face crumpled. “And .. and I need him, too.”  

Then he crumpled, curling into his knees on the floor. Slider was quick to kneel beside him. He laid a hand on the kid’s trembling back, out of his depth. Again. “I know. I miss him too.”  

It was true. They all missed Goose. Hell, everyone who’d known the guy, even just for a few days, always remember him. It was that laugh of his, or his stupid mustache - who the hell could tell? - but the point was, there was a lot of people who still mourned him.  

“It should’ve been me!” Mav sobbed, beating his fist against the ground.  

Well, shit. They all knew Mav was messed up by what had happened, but this was another level.  

Slider grabbed Maverick’s arm, pulling him onto his lap. “Cut that shit out, Mav,” he warned, trapping the smaller man’s arms as he tried to get away. “You think Goose would want you thinking that?”  

“Goose isn’t here!” Mav wailed. “He’s gone, Slider. He’s fucking gone! ”  

“I know!” Slider roared, quieting as Mav trembled against him. Repeating, quieter, “I know.”  

And they stayed like that for a while, until Mav’s cries petered out and he was just slumped, lifeless against Slider’s chest.  

“I gotta go,” he finally croaked, his eyes red-rimmed from crying.  

“Where are you going?” Slider repeated his earlier question.  

“… I need to go see Viper about something.”  

And Slider was left to watch Mav’s back. It was moving away from him, once again.  

 
—————————————————— 

 
Naturally, the Navy thought it was a good idea to send the recently traumatized pilot with them on their mission, yanking them away from the Top Gun graduation party. He watched Mav as they were flown out to the carrier, preemptively sitting next to him, trying to block the wind with his larger body. Trying to make Mav more comfortable. 

 
——————————————————— 

 
They’d gotten a month's leave for their success. And Mav was staying at Top Gun, apparently. Though with the way he was, Slider had to wonder if he’d last long as a teacher. Not that the kid didn’t have plenty to teach … he just knew that Maverick would always belong in the sky.  

 
——————————————————— 

 
The years went by, and all the Boy’s of the Class of ‘86 managed to be around, in one capacity or another, when Carole and the Baby Goose needed them. And when Maverick needed them. Which got easier once they all started climbing the ranks.  

Ice climbed and climbed - he was born to it. (The four stars of the COMPACFLT always looked right on his collar.)  

Slider made Admiral, too. And Hollywood and Sundown. Chipper retired along with Wolfman later on. But they all stuck around.   

Because Goose haunted all of them.  

 

 

 

(At least his ghost always seemed to smile.)   

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

There's some significant time jumping in this in the end. But to be honest I wanted to get to the next bit - so bear with me please!

Chapter 3: Mav and Rooster

 

 

 

 

It had been years since Slider had talked with Baby Goose ( Rooster, now ) though he had seen him at Ice’s funeral a few months back. And Mav had called him after the Mission, letting him know the outcome and about the reconciliation.  

Slider had been wondering when he’d get a chance to give the kid a talking to for what he’d put the short ass through over the years of silence. Because the kid had cut them all out after the whole Incident. Though it had been several years before Ice had told Slider the whole story. Mostly because Mav hadn’t told Ice everything for a while, keeping it close to his chest. Slider knew the kid thought they had all been in on it.  

They hadn’t, but how do you explain the unexplainable to a kid who’s just lost everything? From Rooster’s perspective, they were all guilty by association. 

Didn’t make the years of radio silence any less painful, of course, even if he did understand the motivation behind the kid’s actions. 

So, the call out of the blue was a surprise. 

“Uncle Slider?” There’s a nervous pause. “It’s Bradley.” 

“Baby Goose,” the old nickname comes out automatically.  

“It’s Rooster, now,” the kid chuckles, like it hadn’t been literally years since they’ve spoken. 

“Yeah, Mav might’ve mentioned that.” 

The silence draws out while Rooster gathers his courage for whatever this is about. Slider waits, thinking of how similar the kid and Maverick ended up. Getting Mav to talk about his personal issues or wants or needs was like pulling teeth. 

“I need your help with something.” 

Slider hums. “Gonna need more than that, kid.” 

“It’s for Mav.” 

Well, that certainly sells it to him. “What do you need?” 

“Actually,” Rooster chuckles. “I need a crash course on how to work breakers.” 

Slider’s ears perk up at that. “Mav said you were his RIO for a bit. You get a taste for it?” 

“Kind of?” Rooster sounds embarrassed that his uncles would be talking about him behind his back. The day they stopped talking about Bradley would be the day they were all lined up in the military cemetery, six feet under.  “Mav managed to get a line on a decommissioned F-14 - don’t ask me how, or whose butt he had to kiss, but it’s going to be at the hanger within the next month once all the red tape is finished. Knowing him, he’s gonna make sure it’s airworthy, and I … I want to back-seat for him, like … like my Dad did.” 

And doesn’t that make Slider tear up? Because he can remember the last Bradshaw who’d been Mav’s RIO, a honking laugh echoing in his memory. Because Goose is always laughing when he pictures him. 

“He’s gonna cry,” Slider predicts.  

Rooster lets out a fond laugh. “Yeah.” 

And there’s really no other answer Slider can give except ‘Yes’. 

 
—————————————————— 

 
Though, when Rooster shows up a week later, Slider has something he needs to do first. While Slider may be two years retired now, and he may be six years Maverick’s senior (and he’s not ever gonna let the other man forget it) he’s still a large man - larger than Rooster even, the younger aviator in his prime. 

So, once he indulges in a hug, he steps back, his face becoming serious and calls out ‘Ten-hut!’ To get the kid to stand at attention. 

“You’re aware you fucked up?” He asks the younger man, studying his face as he fights himself and his ingrained instincts. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Just because Maverick has forgiven you, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the times I had to play babysitter for him on the anniversaries - anniversaries that you weren’t there with him.” He steps closer, using his height to his advantage. “If you do anything like that again - cut him out, use Goose’s memory to hurt him, anything - Mav won’t be able to stop me carving a piece out of you.” And it gives him small satisfaction to see the heartbreak behind Rooster’s military stoic mask. But this needs to be said. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

Slider huffs out a breath through his nose, relaxing. “At ease, kid.” He turns away, leading the younger man into the garage, where he’s got the manuals laid out and coffee brewing. “Now, let’s see what you can do.” 

 
—————————————————— 

 
To the amusement of Penny and the gaggle of Mav’s Baby Pilots, when Slider arrives at the birthday party, he picks the shorter aviator up when he hugs him and twirls him around once, just because he can. 

“Sli,” Mav protests, his face a bit red, though Slider can tell he’s not really mad. “Do you have to do that?” 

Slider pulls him close so the others can’t overhear. “Only because Goose isn’t here to embarrass the hell out of you.” 

Mav snorts, hiding his face in Slider’s shoulder for a second. He knows as well as Slider does, that Goose thought it was hilarious that Pete was ‘pocket sized’ and had often used it to his advantage when Mav had been drunk off his ass or chasing after Charlie when they were younger.  

“Thanks for coming.” 

Stepping back, following Mav over to the rest of the gaggle, Slider asks, “Did you invite the rest of the boys?” 

“Wolfman disappears somewhere with that fanged beast he calls a dog,” Mav smiles, “Cowboy and Hollywood said they’d be a bit late. Sundown and Chipper were trying to convince Penny to let them mix the drinks." Huffing out a laugh. "The rascals. ” 

And Slider knows exactly why Cowboy and Hollywood are late, but he’d had to ask to keep up appearances. “Then you’d better introduce me to the Baby Aviators.” 

So Mav introduces him to the younger pilots, getting a mix of awe and curiosity from them as he’s identified as ex-Admiral Kerner and Iceman’s old RIO. He fields questions, once the initial hesitation is over, and they clamor for stories of Mav as a young man and Mav retreats to help Penny at the bar where he won’t be able to hear the embellishments Slider is sure to add to his ‘exploits’.  

Rooster shows up about a half hour later with Cowboy and Hollywood, just when Sundown’s dog had stolen a packet of hotdogs from by the barbecue. The hotdogs can’t be recovered, but Penny had gotten extra packets, so it was fine.  

“Baby Goose,” Mav’s face lights up when he sees his godson, giving him a hug before greeting his old friends, who also give him hugs. Hollywood goes farther, swinging Mav off his feet and around, Slider’s earlier move plus extra enthusiasm. Mav hits him playfully on the shoulders, laughing as his feet are finally returned to the ground. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it.” 

When it’s finally time for presents, everyone gathers round, cheering as Mav takes out various bottles of whiskey, tools for his plane, a giant stuffed animal goose (Sundown shrugged and said his dog had the same thing for a chew toy) and various odds and ends. But the best was still to come. 

Looking nervous, Rooster holds out an envelope, Mav pulling out an official looking file. 

“What’s this, Baby Goose?” 

“Open it.”  

And Mav does, shifting through the papers, quickly at first, then slowing down when he realizes what it is. “What -?” He asks, clearly not sure what to make of them.  

Rooster reaches out, tapping on his name at the top of one of the forms. “This is to signify that I’ve completed the training for the breaker system of an F-14.” He swallows, fidgeting as Mav just stares at him. “I wanna be your back-seater, sir.” 

At a loss, Mav stares at him, then looks over at Slider, whose signature was on the bottom of the paperwork. “Wha-?” 

“The kid’s a quick study,” Slider tells him. “He came to me for help with his project. And take it from me - the kid’s ready for anything you’ll throw at him once you’re up there.” 

There’s a collective ‘Awwww’ as Mav throws himself at Rooster, hugging him while the papers flutter to the ground around them in a whirlwind.  

And Rooster repeats his uncles earlier move, picking Mav up and twirling him around, making his godfather release a chocked laugh. 

“Whadda ya say, Mav?” He asks, grinning down at the older aviator after he puts him down. “Feel up to doing some of that pilot shit?” 

“Well, Roo,” Mav says, wiping away a stray tear. “I do feel a need …” 

“For speed!” Rooster crows, throwing out his arms. 

“Whoo!”  

Twin voices echoing the air.  

 

 

 

 

(And a Goose honks high above.)