Pete Mitchell X Female!reader - Tumblr Posts

Maverick Down || Maverick

summary: When Maverick wakes up very sick with a cold, you take him under your care, and he receives a surprise visit from his 'air children'.

pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x Wife!Reader

warnings: vomiting

✧ Maverick masterlist || My Library || My Kofi

When Maverick didn’t wake up at his normal hour of a prompt five o’clock in the morning, you knew something was wrong. Making your way into the bedroom, you saw that he was in the same position that you left him in last night– flat on his stomach. 

He had his arms curled around a pillow, a soft snore emitting from his mouth.

Checking the time, you realized that it was nearly six, and he normally woke up early enough for a quick run with Rooster who was more than likely about to knock on your door.

“Baby?” You call him gently as you walk over and touch his bare shoulder, only to find that he was very warm. Moving your hand up the length of his neck, you drop your palm against his forehead, only to discover a blistering heat beneath your hand. “Mav,” You whisper under your breath. Certainly so, the doorbell to your house rings, signaling Bradley’s arrival. 

Biting into your lip, you move out of the bedroom and rush into the entryway. You made a mental checklist of things to grab, such as headache medicine, cold medicine, and water. You pulled open the front door and met Bradley with a small smile. 

“Morning,” Bradley walks inside. “Is Mav ready?” 

Sighing, you shake your head.

“He’s burning up with a fever,” You inform him. “He’s hardly moved.” 

Rooster’s face softens. “Maverick? Sick? Should we call an ambulance?” He jokes as he catches sight of the freshly washed grapes you worked on before checking on Maverick. Plucking some of the green fruit from their vines, he pops a couple into his mouth. 

“Funny,” You chuckle. “I’ll be back, alright? You guys may have to skip out on the run.” 

Rooster waves his hand and shakes his head.

“No, we need Captain at his best.” He smiles. 

He waits in the kitchen by the bar while you take the necessary supplies into the bedroom. When you walked inside your bedroom, Maverick had begun to stir. A light groan fell from his mouth as he felt the sudden achiness developing across his body.

“Mav, I’ve got you some medicine,” You inform him as you rest a hand on his shoulder. He twists in your direction, the mention of medicine causing him to chuckle sleepily. 

“Sweetheart, I’m fine,” He assures you, taking your hand into his. 

He looks over at the clock, his eyes widening with the time flashing before his eyes. “I need to get up,” 

“Bradley’s downstairs, but you’re not going on that run, sir.” You push him back down. “You’re burning up with a fever.” 

“I feel fine,” He protests once more. Maverick looks up at him defiantly. His muscles ached, his legs throbbed, and he did feel nauseous, but he wasn’t going to sit there in defeat. He was going on that run, and he was going to work. 

“Listen, you may be the dangerous one between us, but you’re still my husband. And you’re staying here with me so that I can take care of you.” You lean forward and brush your fingertips through his hair. Cracking open the bottle of water, you dispense a few pain relievers and fever reducers into your hand to give to him.

Maverick looks between you and the water but finally takes the bottle and sips from it. The throbbing ache that resulted in his throat made his eyes close and a wince was undeniable. 

“Baby, I’m–”

“You’re lying.” You cut him off. “Drink up, Mav.” You encourage. 

Maverick sighs and finally takes the pills from you and swallows them with a chase of water. “I’ll go run you a shower,” 

“You don’t need to do that,” Maverick sighs. “I’m fine. I’m not sick.”

“You’re not going to work.” You tell him pointedly.

Maverick didn’t want to be babied. He was a grown man, 50, and he wasn’t going to sit there and take this. With a gentle huff, he is able to pull himself away from the blankets. It wasn’t until his feet made contact with the hardwood of the bedroom that the surge of pain filled his legs. He closed his eyes and stretched, the movement of his muscles generating a deeper ache he hadn’t realized was present until he stood upright. 

“I’ll call on your behalf and let the air boss know you won’t be at work,” You kiss the top of his head. “But I’ll go run that shower for you.”

However, Maverick was going to be impossible to stop. He walked over to the closet and retrieved his jeans and white tee, bringing you to furrow your eyebrows. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“After I shower, I’m getting dressed.” He says while rummaging through the top drawer. 

“Pete Mitchell,” 

“Yeah?” He responds. 

“Don’t make me call Hondo to humble you.”

Maverick squints in return. “I need to do something. The medicine will kick in, and I’ll be in the air by noon.”

“You won’t be in the air at all, Maverick!” 

From the kitchen area, Rooster can hear you two bickering as he continues to ravage your grapes. His eyes doubled in size when he realized that he had almost eaten the whole container, his eyes switching back and forth. He needed to make some phone calls, but first, he was going to add some humor to Maverick’s day.

“I’LL BE BACK!” Rooster yells before hurrying out of your and Maverick’s house. 

Maverick’s head shifts to the sound of Rooster and he looks at you.

“Darling, please don’t worry about me,”

You take his hand, guiding him to the bathroom. The quick motion causes his head to spin, and you can literally see your husband turning a deep shade of green. No way could he climb into a plane today. You see the way those green eyes spin out of control, the lightheadedness taking over his system. 

“I’m… Fine…” He whispers, but the thick bile that rises in his throat speaks otherwise. Moments later, you watch as Maverick files by, and he makes it to the sink just in time to empty whatever contents are left in his stomach. You sigh and rub his back in a soothing manner, never enjoying when either of you got sick.

While you drenched a rag in cold water to lay over the back of his neck, you hurried to the shower to turn it on. As you returned, he was already grabbing for the toothbrush and toothpaste, bringing a soft sigh to fall from your lips.

“Are you sick now?” You coax, running your fingers through his dark hair which you wet with your fingertips.

Low grunts emerge from his mouth as he cranes his head to the side to look at you.

“Okay, maybe I don’t feel good.” He admits breathily. 

Nodding, you kiss his back. “Let’s get you in the shower, honey,” You rub his bath soothingly as he stands upright.

You wait in the bathroom while he takes his shower, towel, and clothes at the ready. You replaced his desired outfit consisting of jeans and a white tee with a pair of shorts and one of his worn Navy shirts. Maverick would admit, being under the showerhead as hot water pounded against his back – did wonders. But when he stepped out of the warmth and immediately into the cool shower, he was a shivering mess. 

When you helped him get dressed, he looked at you with sorrow lacing his features.

“This is embarrassing.” 

Raising an eyebrow, you chuckle. “Embarrassing? Mav, I thought we said in sickness and in health in our vows?” You remind him. “You always take care of me when I get sick.”

Maverick’s back was throbbing when he made it out of the bedroom, hair still dripping from the shower. You threw the towel over his head and stopped him, roughly towel-drying his hair. His hands were rested on your waist, forehead coming to rest on your shoulder. He was still warm, but you accounted that to the hot shower he just took. 

“Yeah, but this is different,” Maverick contests. “I’m the man.”

“And men don’t get sick?” 

Maverick laughs quietly, a cough ensuing. 

“I’ll make you some tea, come on,” You guide him into the living room and make a spot on the couch for him with a pillow and a blanket. He was shuddering by the time you got him settled, and you promised that later on, you’d help warm him up. You weren’t sure where Rooster ran off to, but the moment you made the phone call to the admiral in charge, he said he already knew of Maverick’s absence for the day, and he wished him well. 

You returned to the living room with the hot tea that had milk and honey in it.

“The honey will help soothe your throat. Sip it lightly, I don’t want you to throw up again,” You sit beside him on the couch. He sits up slightly and takes the mug of tea from you, a soft smile on his face. You could see the heaviness of his eyelids. “Try and get some sleep,” You lace your fingertips around his cheek. 

Maverick nods his head. “I’m sorry for ruining whatever you had planned today,”

Sighing, you shake your head. “You needed me, darling.” You lean forward and kiss the crown of his head. Maverick eases into your touch and hands you the mug of tea. You place it down and start to rub along his shoulders, listening to the subtle grunts that fall from his mouth.

“Does it hurt?” You ask quietly.

“A little,” Maverick answers. “I’m just achy.” 

Nodding, you move between his shoulder blades once he turned onto his stomach, and that’s when he made very distinctive sounds that shouldn’t have had you thinking otherwise, especially when he was supposed to be your patient. 

But luckily, the back rub put him to sleep. When you stopped hearing him answer your questions, you craned your head over to see that he was knocked out, eyelashes fanned over the tops of his reddened cheeks. A bit of drool seeped from the corners of his smushed lips against the pillow, a smile spreading across your face. You kissed a trail up his spine from the small of his back before stroking your fingers through his hair, earning the soft snores to return from earlier this morning.

A couple of hours later when Maverick woke up, he thought death had finally come to take him. The deep groan that fell from your husband’s lips made your head snap up from your laptop as you were trying to get some work done. 

“Baby?” You put your laptop aside and walk over to the couch. 

He was irritated. He woke up and glared at you, shaking his head. His entire body somehow ached from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. The waves of nauseous returned, and before you realized what was happening, he was pushing his way from the couch, only able to make it to the kitchen sink this time. He was bent over the edge, fingertips flexed and gripping the granite. His head pounded with a vicious headache, the incoming bound of sunlight striking his eyes and generating a deep sense of pain in his emerald eyes. 

His forehead rested against the cold granite countertop as you hurried in before starting back with the cold rag over his back and neck this time. 

“You feel worse?” You ask him.

He nods violently, unable to produce a sentence. You bite into your lip, already prepared to make a phone call to the doctor to see if you could get him in. Once his stomach settled again, you were able to guide him over to the couch, where he practically fell into the cushions. 

His eyes were heavy, and he looked at you with such a pitiful expression, your heart broke into a thousand pieces.

“Oh baby,” You cup his cheek. His head lolls back to look at you. 

“I’m dying,” He groans.

Shaking your head, his fever seemed to have gone down slightly, but not enough that it didn’t concern you. 

“You’re not dying,” You promise him.

He was able to continue sitting there despite clutching his stomach, the threat of throwing up nudging him violently. Maverick didn’t want you to see him like this. He was a confident man, a man who was often prideful, but this was terrible. You lay there, stroking your fingers through his hair as he relaxed finally.

“If you’re not better by tomorrow morning, we’re going to the doctor,” You tell him.

He agreed. Maverick nodded, gulping. 

As you were about to open your mouth to say something else, to possibly offer him something else to settle his stomach, you heard a knock on the door. Checking your watch, it was just after lunch.

Making your way to the front door, you looked out the window, only to see that it was the Dagger Squad. Your eyes widened as you unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, and Payback stood there with smiles, each one with something in their hands. 

“Is Pops still alive?” Hangman chuckles. 

Smiling, you figured that a visit from his practical children would do him some good. 

Letting them inside, Phoenix walks over, and in her hands was a bag with a container. 

“I brought you some soup, chicken noodle.” She winks and goes to set it on the counter. 

“Flowers tend to make me feel better,” Bob shrugs. “Hope you like sunflowers, Mav.” He makes his way behind Phoenix to set the prepped vase beside the soup. 

Fanboy comes in next. “I wrote down some rather… Funny things occurred with some students today. Figured you’d want a laugh,” He winks and hands Maverick the journal he wrote in. 

Payback grins. “You might be out of commission for a couple of days, and as much as you love working on that plane in your shop? Got you a miniature one,” He sets the modeled plane on the coffee table, bringing Maverick to chuckle lightly. 

“I brought the sarcasm,” Hangman insists. “You look just like an old man, Mav. Frail and brittle.” He winks, plopping down into the chair in front of Maverick.

“And I brought the best thing of all!” Rooster announces. He pulls out a big Get Well Soon card and opens it. “We all signed it,” 

Your eyes widen as you look at the group who came over just to make your husband feel better. Maverick looks at every single one of them individually and chuckles. 

“Also, Hondo said you better not give Y/n any kind of look while she tries to take care of you,” Phoenix added with a smile. 

“Penny said you’ve got a free beer on her when you’re back too,” Rooster adds. 

You walk over and take a seat beside him.

“You guys are so sweet,” You hold Maverick’s shoulder.

Maverick grins at them. “Thank you,” He announces. “Really, thank you.” 

They all shake their heads.

“After everything you did for us? This is the least we could do,” Bob answers. 

“You’re like our Navy dad,” Fanboy chuckles. 

“Dad?” Hangman responds. “He’s a fossil. Granddad is the proper term.”

Maverick shoots him a glare, but they both dissolve with laughter. 

You look over at Rooster, knowing well that he was the source behind this. You deliver him a wink to which he offers one in return. 

Maverick knew he was in good hands.