The disgusting thing about flying to London was that it always seemed like Everleigh lost a day. Travelling alone never felt right. She'd miss her day, show up in the morning, either pick up her car if she hadn't arrange for someone to come get her, or she'd hope that someone did indeed remember that she needed picking up. Then she'd stew in her jetlag by herself, in her empty flat, wishing that she could simply go back to work and forget how lonely she always was.

Travelling with Maverick was different. After being dropped off at the airport by Margaret and Esmé—the former of which insisted on driving when she found out Esmé got to the house the night before in half the legal time—and buried in hugs that felt like they'd never let go, Everleigh and Maverick walked through the gate a couple hours early to their flight. She did her best to ignore the magazine racks that had photos of her and Maverick outside The Final Grill and a couple other adventures they'd been on before he went home to Windsor—along with a photo of him landing in Windsor, asking if there was already trouble in paradise. Disgusting. Getting to sit down on the benches with a carry on while she thought about how her dog was doing was the most relaxed her brain would let her be.

("Is this the first time you've had to wait for a plane and not the other way around?" "Hardy har, Meadowlark.") (Maverick fell asleep on her shoulder while they sat at their terminal—maybe he really had overslept every single day of his life.)

"Don't take this as sarcasm," Everleigh said.

"What a good start to a statement," Maverick said. Finally woken up. A lazy hand dragged through bleached curls and ran down to his eye, which he rubbed the sleep out of. He looked ready to take another nap, although people were already boarding. Everleigh didn't want to tell him the people sitting across from them had definitely—and not very stealthily—had taken photos of them while he'd been asleep. "Everleigh Meadowlark, you can say whatever you want to me."

"I'm glad you're coming home again," Everleigh said. "The flat was lonely without you."

Maverick draped his arm over the back of her seat. Ran his thumb along her tricep. Everleigh tried to ignore the movement of another phone across from them. "Careful, Meadowlark, I might think you have feelings for me if you keep being so nice."

Everleigh rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

"Nope. Can't take it back."

"Careful, Maverick—"

"Okay, you win." Maverick held a hand up in surrender. "Never mind."

"That's all it took?"

"Yup."

"Your own name?"

Maverick shook his head. "Feel like I'm in trouble every time I hear that name from you."

"You're not in trouble," Everleigh said, nudging her elbow into his side. "I love you, you spoon."

Maverick had clearly tuned out the person taking photos across from them—better than Everleigh had, at least—because he didn't hesitate to press a kiss to her temple. "I love you too, Meadowlark."

"And I suppose I'm still glad you're coming back with me," Everleigh said. "I guess. Or whatever."

Maverick raised his eyebrows. "Romantic."

"I'm not the poet."

"Clearly."

"Big words for someone who's not paying rent."

"You didn't stay here long enough for me to show you where I do pay rent."

That was true. Everleigh hadn't seen Maverick's apartment because they'd stayed at Margaret's and squeezed into Maverick's childhood bed to sleep. A mess of limbs and Everleigh wanted the blanket but Maverick didn't and there were accidental face punches and slaps and kicks and sorry's and ow's, one distinct holy shit, is your nose okay? from Everleigh when she'd beaned Maverick with the back of her head, and one very loud oh God when Maverick tried to shift and rammed his knee up Everleigh's ass. (Esmé wouldn't make eye contact with them at breakfast. No protest would've convinced her otherwise.) (To be fair, they probably should've just left and gone to Maverick's apartment, but neither wanted to walk.)

"I still haven't seen the damage that Stevie did to my record collection." Maverick laughed.

"What happened there?"

Maverick smiled. "When you and Stevie's boy wonder were listening to Escape Velocity together, we were outside. Where you locked us."

"Technically, that was Brendon."

"I would've placed every bet on you."

"Can't prove it wasn't Brendon."

"I trust Brendon to tell me the truth if I ask him."

"You shouldn't," Everleigh said. "I've hung out with him more than you. He could have a vendetta. You don't know."

"You did try and take number one MARS fan from him when he's in love with Stevie."

"I'm in love with Stevie too."

"Not like him you're not."

"Debatable."

"Anyway," Maverick said. "I told her I was planning on spending a significant amount of time in London."

Fine. Everleigh kissed him on the cheek for that one.

"So I gave her my apartment key, told her she could take any records she wanted," Maverick said. "She said she only wanted The Smith's ones, but I know she took more. Which is fine, but I should've checked to see how many I had to replace."

"Contrary to popular belief," Everleigh said, "I'm not sure our flat can hold as many vinyls as you probably had before."

"We'll make it work."

"Do not put vinyl shelving in the loo."

Maverick pursed his lips for a moment. "We'll make it work some other way."

Maverick and Everleigh's gate was called not long after, with them checking in with their flight attendants quickly. It wasn't anyone Everleigh knew, which was probably for the best, as much as she loved her coworkers. She didn't have the heart to tell them that her time was likely up. Everleigh wanted to disappear, like dust in the wind, leaving not a trace behind. It seemed the best, especially after all of them had been covering her flights so she could study for exams. The binder they had given her all too necessary for her sanity.

When they found their seats, Everleigh shoved her carry-on under the seat in front of her, deeming the overhead storage "for someone else" considering all she'd packed for Maverick's birthday was a backpack with a couple changes of clothes.

As Everleigh sat down beside him, unfortunately in the middle seat, Maverick wrapped an arm around her and pressed the side of his head against hers.

"Smile, please?"

Everleigh did so for the phone that was now in front of her face. Waited until he was madly typing to ask, "Who's that for?"

"Stevie."

"Is that all you two do?"

"We're besties."

Everleigh leaned a little closer, reading what Maverick was typing. Wanted to tell you we're in love. Told each other last night. Love yoooou. Xoxo. The split second that text had delivered, Maverick turned his phone on airplane mode.

"She's actually going to smother you one day, and I won't do a damn thing to stop her."

"That's something to worry about after the thirteen hours." Maverick shrugged and dug a headphone splitter from his pocket. "Movie?"

*

It was a toss-up which one scared Maverick more: Stevie's texts when he'd finally turned his phone back on, or that one singular scene in Zootopia that made him jump and nearly knocked Everleigh out of her seat she was laughing so hard at him. ("Look, if we like it, we can watch it with our niece!" "You recognize she's six months old, right? We're probably stuck with The Wiggles." "Yeah, but what about when she's older?" "Do you just really want to watch Zootopia?" "I've never seen it. I've heard it's good.") (Post-jumpscare; "Meadowlark, did you know?" Everleigh was laughing too hard to answer him.)

The vibrations in his hand as each text finally delivered were deafening. Everleigh counted a grand total of 23 by the time his phone stopped notifying him of his impending doom. A couple of Everleigh's favourites were a grouping around the middle of Stevie's rage:

WHY AREN'T THESE DELIVERING?

OH MY GOD I HATE YOU

KINGSTON JOHN MAVERICK YOU DID NOT SEND ME THAT FROM A SEAT ON A PLANE AND THEN FLY TO FUCKING LONDON

GO TO HELL YOU SINNER

OR PURGATORY FOR ALL I CARE

PAYMENT FOR SAID SINS IS UNLIMITED TIME WITH MY GIRLFRIEND AND STEPSON WHENEVER I WANT AND YOU PAY FOR THE ROUNDTRIP TICKETS

YOU'RE A SHIT

JUN DOESN'T UNDERSTAND WHY I'M CRYING AND I FEEL LIKE HE'S GOING TO THINK I'M INSANE IF I HAVE TO TELL HIM THE TRUTH, FUUUUUCK YOU

The final text in the series of 23 was something a lot calmer and only mildly as threatening as the others: Also please tell Everleigh I loved her first and that's gotta count for something. Tell her I figured it out first and wasn't TOO EMBARRASSING to let her know. <3 (I still hate you and will actually kill you the next time I see you, but I'm happy for you.) (You little shit.)

Maverick simply responded with an ass ton of heart emojis that would likely get him killed slower. The dictionary definition of a shit disturber.

"Are you hungry?" Maverick asked after they had settled in the car and left the airport parking lot.

"I could... probably eat." A 13 hour flight was disgusting when it came to airplane food. Everleigh didn't even like to eat it when she was being paid to do so. Maverick had eaten the pack of gingersnaps they'd brought around as snacks before a semi-frozen lunch. Especially after losing a day to travel and time differences, Everleigh needed something that was probably from a pub and rhymed with beaky commandos or whippy.

"You're sure?"

"Want a quick chippy?"

"What the hell is a chippy?"

"You know... battered cod and... chips?"

"Fish and chips?"

"It's a chippy and if you're not careful, you're eating mushy peas with it."

"Sounds better than beans on toast, Meadowlark."

"Could go for a cheeky Nando's."

"Everleigh," Maverick said. "It's like you're speaking a language I don't."

Everleigh snorted. "Cheeky Nando's is showing up to Nando's piss drunk and ordering chicken. That's it."

"That's it?" Maverick asked. "Not as exciting as I thought it'd be."

"All that tells me is that you've never had a cheeky Nando's with Roman."

"Do I... want to?"

"I'm assuming he's going to want one for his bachelor party after the football game," Everleigh said. "So you may not have a choice."

"I didn't know I was invited to the bachelor party."

"I bought the tickets," Everleigh said. "And it was that or being the designated driver for Roman and Pa."

"Does that mean I'm the designated driver?"

Everleigh grinned at Maverick. "I love you."

"Lovely." Maverick poked his tongue into the bottom of his lip, fighting a smile.

"Thank you so much."

"Thanks for telling me."

"You're so welcome, lovely."

"Oh—" Maverick's eyes trailed behind the direction the car was going. "We're going to a pub. That cool?"

"That's fine."

Maverick found a side street to pull over and eagerly pulled her down the sidewalk. Nearly pulled her arm out of the socket, but that smile was worth it.

"Oh my God," Everleigh said once she'd seen what Maverick had dragged her to. "A karaoke bar?"

"And it's country night." Maverick grinned. "Are you down? Because I remember a certain someone, while she is obviously a MARS fan through and through, also likes a little Josh Turner when she has a moment."

Everleigh elbowed him in the stomach gentle. "Cheeky."

"C'mon." Maverick pulled the door open for her and guided her by the waist as she stepped inside.

"—Dug my key into the side of his pretty little supped up four wheel drive—" The person presently on stage sang. They didn't sound too terrible, actually. A little drunken, but not bad. Everleigh nodded her head as the host led them to a table.

Everleigh enjoyed watching Maverick mouth the lyrics to the song. Bop his head along to it. Whistled for the performer when the song ended—two fingers between his lips. Clapped his hands and whooped. All she'd manage to do was order them both a Coke, hers with rum in it.

"They sounded amazing," Maverick said.

"Should go sign them," Everleigh said.

"I should." Maverick actually made a motion to do so before Everleigh caught his hand. "What? If I fail on them, I'll sign someone else. Needs some breath work, but I can teach that in my sleep. Wouldn't even have to hire someone else to do it."

Maverick's eyes sparkled when he spoke about music and introducing someone to the industry. A glint that wouldn't be dampened, an excitement like a kid on Christmas morning.

Everleigh kissed the back of his hand. "Okay."

She thanked the server who brought their drinks as she watched Maverick walk away. A little shamelessly. Maverick shook hands and smiled and charmed his way into sitting down.

"Next up we have—Rush Tua with Picture to Burn!" A host announced. Another person from the table Maverick had sat at walked up. They whooped and hollered and slapped his shoulders, Maverick whistled like they'd been friends for years and he hadn't simply walked up to their table moments before.

The song started up the moment Rush pointed to the person in charge of the music, a shy smile dressing his lips. He looked at his table, the person who had been on stage for the Carrie Underwood song pulled a camera up to take photos. One that looked old enough to need film and not a memory card.

Maverick said a couple more things to the group, dug his wallet out, and handed them what Everleigh assumed was a business card. Proper chuffed as he walked back to the table, offering his hand to her.

He wiggled his fingers. "Come on, Meadowlark, other couples are dancing."

"You're not serious."

Maverick swung his hands a little. Swung his hands around to the beat. "I hate that stupid old pickup truck you never let me drive / You're a redneck heartbreak who's really bad at—"

"You're being embarrassing—"

"So watch me strike a match on all my wasted time," Maverick sang, clearly ignoring Everleigh's protest.

Everleigh would be lying if she said she didn't know the words. Maverick had been gone for two weeks and Everleigh had two of three exams out of the way quickly, she had a little bit of spare time to learn the lyrics to, well, a few Taylor Swift albums.

She stood from her seat after downing her rum and Coke. Took Maverick's hand as he grinned, muttering an I love you in her ear. She gave him a kiss, probably a little too boozy for his designated driver liking.

Maverick led her to somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, a hand on her waist as Rush sang a little offkey but not enough that it wasn't enjoyable. The entire bar sang along with him once the chorus rang around again. Everleigh included. She'd never seen Maverick smile that much as they swayed to the music, his arm raised as she ducked under it.

"In case you haven't heard," the crowd sang. Maverick wrapped his arms around Everleigh's waist, swaying slightly. Giggles buried into her shoulder blades. "I really, really hate that / Stupid old pickup truck you never let me drive / You're a redneck heartbreak who's really bad at lying / So watch me strike a match on all my wasted time / As far as I'm concerned, you're just another picture to burn!

"Burn, burn, burn, baby, burn / Just another picture to burn / Baby, burn!"

"I have to tell you something," Maverick muttered into the crook of Everleigh's neck. A spot he'd discovered he thoroughly enjoyed kissing because of how much it made her squirm. It was also able to be covered easily by her scrubs when a mark was left, they had also discovered.

"Yes?"

"Round of applause for Rush!" the host said, walking on stage and clapping their hands. "Next up we have—" The host looked to the side, where the music player was. "Really?" The person in charge of the music nodded. The host shrugged and squinted as they looked out to the crowd. "Looks like a celebrity guest."

"Oh my God," Everleigh said.

"It was the only way I could convince Axel to take my card, even as a joke."

"You're nuts." Everleigh laughed.

"Let's welcome Maverick to the stage!"

Maverick let go of Everleigh's waist and jogged over to the side of the stage, walking up the few stairs to get to where the host was. He took the microphone and looked out to the crowd, a natural pleaser.

Everleigh found a wall nearby to lean against, arms wrapped around her stomach like she was still holding Maverick's.

"Hey." Maverick smiled. "You know, I've never been nervous to perform before, but those were a tough couple acts to follow."

Axel and Rush booed from their seats. Maverick grinned their way.

"I know I'm mostly a pop kind of guy, but since it is country night," Maverick started, "there's been one country song that's been kind of stuck in my head since I met someone who's kind of turned my life around. In a good way. And maybe it's the jet lag talking, but I think I mostly know the words. I hope y'all know it, too."

Maverick walked over and leaned toward the person controlling the music, who gave him a thumbs up. He thanked them and walked back to centre stage. Where he belonged. Gave his hearing aids a small adjustment.

"Would you go with me if we rolled down streets of fire? / Would you hold on to me tighter as the summer sun got higher? / If we roll from town to town and never shut it down."

Now how was that fair. Kingston Maverick was going to be nominated for awards upon awards in his career and he sounded good singing country? Everleigh's favourite country song, it was to be noted. And, bloody hell, he was looking right at her while he sang. Fuck him. (Everleigh might've after that.)

"If I gave you my hand would you take it / And make me the happiest man in the world?" Maverick smiled when he sang like nothing in the world would ever bring him down again as long as his feet were on the stage and people in the crowd knew the lyrics. "If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, girl / Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea / Let me know if you're really a dream / I love you so, so would you go with me?"