Chapter Text
6.
As far as making a mess of his life, Pete Mitchell would rate himself at four out of five stars. He stared up at the ceiling of Charlie’s room, mind rolling slowly through the fucked up choices he had made in the last twenty four hours alone.
Fucked up choice number one: leaving Hollywood to go after Viper. He had known it was a dick-move. He had known it wasn’t what he was supposed to do. But he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help the small whispering voice in his mind that told him “it’s fine, no one would ever stand by you, why should you stand by them”. He had lived his entire career as Duke Mitchell’s kid and all of the bullshit that had come with it. Including constantly being ostracised by other aviators. Not even Goose could talk him out of that one, as hard as his RIO had tried.
Fucked up choice number two: letting Tom “Iceman” Kazansky talk to him like that. It would have been so much easier to just fist-fight him in the locker room than listen to the patient but exasperated way Iceman spoke to him. It would have been better to walk away and not listen to him at all. Because in that moment Maverick had made an awful connection in his mind. The calm, patient tone was eerily familiar to him. It almost sounded like a voice from his dreams. It was comforting and chastising in one. It made his hair stand on end and his stomach drop a little. Maverick couldn’t bare to look at Ice, because he knew in that moment he had a strange flare of attraction and he absolutely, under no circumstances, was allowed to feel anything other than irritation and dislike of perfect Tom Kazansky. And then he’d watched Ice walk away in nothing but a towel and the attraction hit him hard anyway.
Fucked up choice number three: taking the first two fucked up choices and using them to justify sleeping with Charlie again. He had sought her out this time. Following her home on his bike knowing exactly where they’d both end up. It had calmed his crazed thoughts for a while, sure, but now he was in Charlie’s bed again.
He was laying staring at the ceiling thinking about Tom Kazansky’s tanned skin dripping from the shower. He was thinking about the ultimate trust he had seen in Goose’s eyes as he promised to be better for the hundredth time. He was thinking about Jester telling him to “never, ever leave your wingman”. He was thinking about his father, whether Duke Mitchell ever left his wingman. He was laying with a naked woman asleep on his chest and she didn’t even rate a passing thought.
“What are you thinking?” Charlie muttered against his skin, clearly not as asleep as he thought.
“That I need to get back to base,” Mav lied.
“Mm,” she rolled away and frowned at him. “Are you ever going to stay the night?”
Maverick frowned right back. “You know I can’t,” he said, irritation leaking into his tone.
“Uh-huh,” she rolled her eyes at him. “Because you’re always so concerned about the rules.”
He might have shaken it off if he wasn’t already wound tight enough to snap. Instead he climbed out of the bed and began pulling on his clothes.
“Come on, Charlie,” he snapped. “You know I can’t spend a night off-base. And you already said you’re not supposed to date me, anyway.”
She sat up, covering herself with the sheet. “Jeeze, Mav, you really know how to make a woman feel wanted.” Her eyes were cold, even in the dim light.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Internally Maverick stomped down on the part of him that watched on with disgust.
“Not for very much longer, apparently.” Charlie pointed at the door. “Go on, get out.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, stomping out the back door and letting it slam in the quiet night. He paused at his bike and dragged his boots on, having walked out with them in hand. With that done, he revved the engine and took off into the darkness. Maverick revelled in the icy wind against his cheeks and the way it seemed to strip all thoughts from his head.
===
Things fell into a pattern from there. For the first time since he’d joined the Navy and had to endure training, Maverick bent himself to the task of curbing his impulses. He worked hard at refuting the small, nasty voice telling him to only look out for himself.
Instead, embarrassingly, Iceman’s calm voice asking him “Who’s side are you really on?” would echo back against it. That calm question of where his loyalty should lie worked wonders. His body still itched to do stupid things, but there was “stupid leaving your teammates to die” and there was “stupid ballsy stunt flying”. Maverick felt more than a little pleased with himself that he was finally able to draw the line between the two.
Their points racked up, shooting him and Goose to second place and snapping at Ice and Slider’s heels.
The other pilots seemed to forgive him for his boneheaded stunts easily enough as well. Maverick had always been charismatic enough to get away with murder, and he found he enjoyed the attention more when it wasn’t paired with glares and muttered curses. Even Iceman himself seemed to soften off a little, a little frost melting away.
The only part of the pattern that Mav couldn’t get a handle on was Charlie. Charlotte Blackwood always got what she wanted. For some reason, she wanted Maverick. They had made up the day after he stormed out in the night, Charlie smiling and bringing him a coffee after lunch to chat.
Two days later they had argued again, this time Charlie stalking away with her heels clicking sharply. Maverick had watched her go a strange mix of relief and anger. Possessed by some weird sense of fairness, Maverick had made an effort to reconcile.
And around and around they went.
===
“Hey, Mav?” Goose said as they wandered back to the hangar after another hop.
“Yes, Goose?” Maverick’s mind was on the last manoeuvre he had watched Viper pull, wondering if he could achieve it in his bulky F14.
“Does Charlie know you’re married?” Goose’s words slapped him dead in the face, leaving Maverick stuttering to a stop on the tarmac.
“What?” He said, whipping his head around to make sure the other aviators were well out of earshot, not hard with the never-ending roar of engines.
“I mean, is that why she’s always so torqued with you?” Goose shrugged one shoulder, the picture of reluctant curiosity.
Mav sighed, tipping his head back and watching an F5 scream by. When he looked back, Goose was still waiting for an answer, sympathy in his eyes.
“No, she doesn’t know,” Mav said. They carried on toward the hangar. “I haven’t told her. I kind of keep meaning to, but…”
He left the word hanging, unsure how to admit it without sounding like a dick.
“But there’s always something else to argue about first?” Goose asked, voice now laced with sympathy.
Maverick gave a short nod. He gripped the helmet in his hand so tight he thought it might crack. He knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but something in the way Charlie laid on the attention and affection always got to him. He would promise himself it was the last time and then she would be back with her smiles and bedroom eyes and… He would fall right back in with her.
“You know—“ Goose began but a shout from the hangar caught their attention and Jester waved them over impatiently.
They both picked up their pace, double-timing to the debrief they were clearly late for. Whatever Goose thought he should know would have to wait.
===
7.
“You have no idea what it’s like!” Maverick shouted. Charlie was the only person in the whole universe that made him shout this much.
“Oh! Right!” She shouted right back, face twisting with anger. “Because I don’t have a damn joystick between my legs, I don’t get an opinion!”
Maverick growled with frustration, shoving his hands into his hair. “You know that’s not what this is about! This is about piloting, not about being a woman!”
“I’ve been doing this job eighteen months now, Mav,” she spat his name like a curse, “I think I have an idea of exactly what you meant.”
He closed his eyes, praying for patience and presence of mind. It worked for a brief second and he realised that arguing wasn’t the answer. Maverick turned on a heel and pushed out Charlie’s door into the rain.
“Where are you going!?” She yelled after him.
He didn’t bother with a reply, merely climbing onto the wet seat of his wet bike and shooting away from the curb.
He was saturated in moments, the rain falling heavy and fast. Only his glasses kept it out of his eyes enough to see where he was going. The drops pelted his face, freezing and stinging his skin until he couldn’t feel anything else. As he rode, the anger rose in waves of fire before being drowned in the rain once more as he twisted the throttle and pushed faster into the freezing water.
Maverick knew he couldn’t keep it up. He couldn’t walk the same circle around the flames with Charlie. One day soon they were going to fall into the fire and neither would come out unharmed. He had to stop. It had to stop.
The thought was terrifying. The idea of pushing back against that intoxicating attention was almost unthinkable. Pete had spent his life chasing it and now he had it he wanted to give it up?
The small Goose that lived rent-free in his head sighed and folded its arms. Pete turned his attention to the sprite, ready for anything that could help.
“This isn’t it,” was all the Goose said.
Pete knew it. He knew this wasn’t it. He had known from that first date at Charlie’s house that this wasn’t it.
But he was so desperately lonely. Some days he feared his body would split open with the aching of it. He felt that his chest would cave if a single person truly touched him because it was brittle veneer over a gaping abyss of loneliness.
With a long, slow sigh, Pete pulled over and stopped. His body was shaking with chills, his hands struggling to open from their grip on the handlebars. He sat back and let the rain fall on his face for a while.
Loneliness was not a good enough reason to hurt like this. Enough was enough.
With a nod to himself, resolve settling into his gut at last, Pete gripped his bike once more. He tossed his head to check for oncoming traffic but found himself stuck in place. No longer frozen by the rain, but held in place by the comical sight in the lot across the street. The one and only Iceman was leaning on the opened hood of his vehicle.
Maverick toyed with the idea of leaving him there. It passed quickly. That same old voice of Iceman asking who’s side he was on making him turn his bike and dart across the road to the parking lot of a diner. He parked up a few spaces away.
By the time he got to Iceman, he was reconnecting the battery.
“Need some help there, Iceman?” Maverick revelled just a little in the situation.
“Mav-rick,” Iceman said, spitting out the last syllable in a similar way to Charlie. “What, no Charlie date today?”
It should have pissed him off. It should have ground salt into his freshly opened wound. Except Maverick was too damn excited to see Iceman upset by something. The ever-serene Tom Kazansky was pissed off enough to make a shitty comment to him.
Maverick grinned broadly and flipped his dripping hair off his forehead.
“Seemed like a nice day for a ride,” Mav said.
Another thrill of delight shot through him as Ice’s face fell into open shock.
“You’re genuinely insane,” Ice said, shaking his head.
Mav wasn’t sure he was that far off the truth. He shrugged. “And you appear to be genuinely broken down. Do you actually need help?”
He waited, watching with fascination as emotion passed over Iceman like clouds. Now he was up close and not seething in a fit of rage at every word, Maverick could see the work in Iceman’s eyes as he attempted to reign everything in.
Mav rolled his eyes, too impatient to wait on the other man’s ego, he stepped around Ice and climbed into the Jeep. He turned the key, listening to the tell-tale clicking of a dead starter solenoid.
“Sounds like your starter,” he announced, returning to the front of the car to find Ice hadn’t moved a muscle.
Careful off the slippery paint, Maverick climbed onto the front of the Jeep. He cursed his short legs as his jacket rode up and cold drips trickled down his bare back. He checked to make sure the solenoid was attached properly and not just loose. Satisfied it was truly broken, he fixed the year and model number into his brain.
“How badly do you need this running?” Mav turned back to see Iceman staring off into the middle-distance.
Ice swung back to face him, a flicker of shock hitting his eyes before it was gone.
“Uh, I mean, I need it to get back on base at least,” Ice said robotically.
“Well, I could get you back on base.” Maverick slapped the Jeep affectionately. “But your Jeep isn’t going anywhere without a new starter solenoid. I can fix it, but not in the rain.”
“You’d fix it?” Ice sneered.
Mav scoffed and looked away. He had been wondering how long Tom Kazansky could stand being decent before his urge to be the biggest dick around reared it’s head again. He turned back to Iceman, his own sneer in place.
“I mean if you want to walk back to base in the rain, Ice, you go right ahead,” Mav said. “If you want to pay a mechanic to fix it and have your car in the shop for the next week while they piss around on an easy job, you do that. I’ll see ya around.”
Maverick turned on his heel and marched off, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket as he went. He couldn’t figure out what made him even stop to help in the first place. Maybe he had felt like he owed Iceman for all the times he had inadvertently stopped Maverick doing something batshit crazy in the air the last few hops. Maybe he just wanted to do a good deed.
“Mitchell! Wait!” Ice’s voice cut through his internal ponderings.
Pete paused, sighing at his own idiocy as he waited.
“Look—” Ice appeared in front of him, hands spread out by his sides, “— I’m not having the best day here. If you can help, I’d appreciate it.”
He looked so open and defenceless for once that Pete couldn't help but be a little startled by it. The cold detachment was nowhere to be seen. He felt he was actually seeing Tom. Not Iceman, not Lieutenant Kazansky, just Tom, honestly asking for help.
Maverick was still Maverick though, he raised his eyebrows, waiting for the apology he deserved. And also just to see if he could push Tom’s buttons as much as he could push Iceman’s.
“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Tom sighed.
“Good.” Mav laughed, pleased with himself. “Go grab what you need, lock it up and we’ll head back to the base. I’ll bring my bike over.”
Ice gave him a nod and walked off. Maverick watched him for a moment, an odd sense of affection fluttering in his chest. He shook it off and went to get his bike.
===
Iceman was not so cool and collected on the back of a Kawasaki going 35 miles per hour in the rain. Maverick couldn’t help but laugh as the bigger pilot clung to him for dear life. He was like a wall of body heat and muscle behind Mav. It was a little unsettling to feel someone so large on his bike with him. He rode slow, slower than usual at the very least, negotiating turns carefully as Ice wasn’t used to leaning with the bike.
When they pulled into a park on the base, Iceman swung himself off immediately. Mav laughed a little at the fierce scowl Tom wore. Maverick tossed his fringe off his face, unable to feel his cheeks again from the short ride.
“Christ, you enjoy this?” Iceman asked as they started toward the quarters.
“Not such a fan of the cold, Iceman?” Mav teased with an easy smile.
“Not really. Or the damp,” Ice said.
They walked in silence for a few metres.
“Sometimes you just need to shock your system, y’know?” Maverick said, voice quiet. “Really just do something that resets everything. Clean slate.”
Maverick wasn’t sure why he had said it. The words had slipped out before he could stop them. Now he was back at the base, the afternoon was catching up to him a little. He cleared his throat and carried on through the awkwardness.
“Anyway, I’ll grab the part we need for your Jeep and we can head down tomorrow after end-of-day to fix it. It won’t take too long, just too slippery and miserable to do in this.” Maverick gestured to the sky.
“Uh, sure,” Ice said. “Thanks, Maverick. Really.”
“Don’t mention it, Ice,” Mav gave him one last friendly grin. He turned away and went in search of Goose. He desperately needed to talk to his RIO about Charlie, and maybe even about Tom Kazansky for that matter.
===
8.
“Hey, Mav,” Goose called, pushing into Pete’s room without waiting for a reply. “Oh good you’re already dressed. Bradley wants you to come play ball with us, so we’ll see you down at the beach in twenty.”
“Man, I can’t,” Mav said, voice apologetic. He hated letting Bradley down but he did tell Ice they’d fix his Jeep.
“What do you mean you can’t?” Goose’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell me Charlie—”
“What? No.” Maverick shook his head violently. “No. I just… yesterday I ran into Iceman, his car was broken down and I said I’d help him fix it.”
There was a protracted silence, Goose’s eyebrows were yet to come down. He stared at Maverick, mouth hanging open a little.
“I’m just doing a good deed, OK?” Mav said.
“For Ice?” Goose clarified. His jaw finally closing and eyes turning shrewd.
“What can I say, I’m a good person.” Maverick shrugged, trying not to squirm beneath Goose’s stare.
“Well, OK, Mav,” he said in his long-suffering tone. “At least make it to dinner, will you?”
“I’ll be there,” Mav agreed, willing the heat in his neck to recede before it reached his cheeks. He clapped Goose on the shoulder and moved past him into the hall. A small, Goose-sounding voice in his head accused him of running away and Maverick ignored it as well.
===
It shouldn’t have been shocking that Iceman had more than two emotions (pissed off or disinterested) but Maverick found it startling just the same. They cruised along on his bike. Ice was clinging less in the sunny weather, and actually gave a huff of laughter as Maverick took a corner a little quicker than he needed to.
When they climbed off beside the lonely Jeep Maverick found the other man actually smiling. He couldn’t help but smile back, a bubbling feeling of victory in his stomach at the sight.
“See, it’s fun right?” Mav said.
“Sure, Mitchell, it’s fun,” Ice rolled his eyes but there was a smile still tugging on the corners of his lips.
“You should try it at a hundred miles per hour,” Mav winked, “there’s nothing like it except flying.”
“With the way you fly? No way.” And then The Iceman actually laughed.
Maverick laughed along with him, a weird sensation building in the back of his neck. Something about that laugh tickled at his brain. He turned away to retrieve the tools from under his bike seat, mind working furiously.
“I’m an excellent pilot, Ice,” Mav argued just to be contrary. “It’s not my fault the US Navy can’t keep up.”
Ice laughed again, this time far more sardonically, but the same familiar feeling hit Maverick once more. This time a memory rode along with it.
Club lights were swirling, synthesizer music pulsing against his chest, the man he had pressed up against the wall was laughing into his ear.
Maverick’s blood went cold. Then hot.
This couldn’t be real. That had to be some quirk of his fried brain. There was no way they were the same laugh.
He picked up his tools and the spare solenoid. No, he refused to believe it.
And yet as he turned to look at Iceman, that thrill of familiarity he had felt so many weeks ago hit him once more.
Maverick pasted a blank smile on his face and climbed onto the engine of the Jeep. He definitely wasn’t going to think about that right now. He was going to get this job done fast and get the hell out of here.
“Where’d you learn to do this?” Ice asked, coming around to lean on the Jeep and watching Maverick with his too-blue eyes.
Mav wished he wouldn’t look at him. He could feel Ice’s eyes roaming his body and more fuzzy memories rolled into his brain; memories of being felt up in a club bathroom.
“My second foster home,” Mav said, too distracted to lie. He kept his eyes focused down on the engine. “They were decent enough. Owned a mechanic shop. I helped out after school and on the weekend.”
They were some of the best memories he had. His foster dad, Gerald, had taught him the ins and outs of motors. They would always have the radio tuned to the rock and roll station. It was where Mav learned all his cuss words and what exactly a pin-up looked like.
He was so lost in the reminiscence that he forgot Ice was there until a short “Oh,” brought him back to the present. He could hear the strain of someone that didn’t know quite what to say in that “oh”. He had heard it many times over his lifetime. Maverick extracted the solenoid and tossed it at Ice, breaking the other man’s awkward stance.
“Don’t worry about it, Kazansky,” Maverick said, giving him a smile. “You know my dad was KIA, my mum died not too long after. So there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go.” He gave a shrug, preparing for the typical responses he got.
“I’m sorry,” Ice’s voice was so earnest that Mav found it slipped under his guard and hit his chest harder than usual.
He hadn’t thought he would ever hear Ice say something that honest and sincere to him, let alone an apology.
“I said don’t worry about it,” Pete said, ignoring the rushing of blood through his heart that threatened to overwhelm him. “Pass me that new solenoid, would you?”
He needed to get this finished. Fast. He couldn’t stand another moment with this weird, kind, compassionate Tomas Kazansky. It was doing strange things to his brain and body.
“I was with them for three years,” Pete said when Ice didn’t change the subject. “It was shit when I had to go. But they had another bio-kid and the State wouldn’t let them keep me.”
There was no reaction. Iceman didn’t move an inch.
“I went to a new place, they were horrible.” Flickers of memories threatened but Maverick pushed on, focused on the work he was doing with his hands more than the story. “Ran away for a while. Had about a week on the streets.” Pete peeked to watch Iceman’s face flicker with shock and dismay before the mask returned. “State put me back with a new family. They were bearable.” And they had been. Easy enough to finish off his high-school with them. “Stayed there until I could enlist. And now I’m here, about to win that Top Gun trophy and be the best.” He tacked the last part on in an effort to break Ice’s stiff posture. The other man was frozen with his arms crossed and jaw clenched as he listened to the story.
Later, Maverick would wonder why he had said it all. He didn’t really like to offer up his life story to just anyone. Heck, Charlie didn’t know half of the stuff he’d just forced Ice to listen to. The moment had just felt right. The fact that Pete was suspecting Ice was his mystery husband, the way that Ice had let himself open up with Pete that afternoon, even just a little.
Maybe he just wanted Tom Kazansky to stop thinking he was just an irresponsible child; that Pete Mitchell had a life and a story and there was more to him than being “dangerous, unsafe and everyone’s problem”.
“Keep dreaming, Mitchell,” Ice said the snark in his tone softer than usual. Pete glanced over to see that Ice’s eyes were shining with mirth. With his arms loose across his chest now and the last of the sunset colouring his blond hair golden. Ice was drop-dead gorgeous.
Maverick laughed. If they were married, he was going to have to insist on consummating it before he gave Ice a divorce.
As though he could hear Mav’s thoughts, Ice shook his head with mock exasperation.
“So.” Mav leapt back down to the pavement. “I think that’s good to go. Try turning it over.”
He shoved his tools into his back pocket, waiting to hear the engine turn over. It fired and hummed, sounding perfectly healthy once more.
Maverick felt his blood rise again as Ice shot him a genuine smile from the drivers seat. He looked down at his grubby hands and began wiping them with a rag. He could not have Tom look at him like that again, it was doing awful things to his emotions.
“Thanks, Mav,” Ice said, holding his hand out to shake.
Maverick took it, feeling the callouses and surprised at how large Ice’s hands were.
“No problem, Ice,” he said, realising this was probably the first time Tom had used his nickname.
“You want some cheese fries?” Ice said, his eyes flickering with panic before they shuttered back to neutral.
Pete’s heart exploded. He had a vague realisation that Charlie never made him feel like this. How did Tom have such easy access to his nervous system? The memory of laughter shifted in Mav’s brain.
“Well, I would,” he chuckled through the pain of how honest he was being, “but I got a better offer. I gotta go meet Goose and Carole for dinner.”
Iceman merely nodded. Maverick could see Tom receding back behind his persona again.
“See ya ‘round, Iceman,” Pete said, mostly to needle at him and see the flashes of genuine emotion he could now recognise.
“Sure, sure,” Ice drawled, a smile leaking through in his voice.
Maverick turned and wandered away, tossing the busted solenoid into the air and catching it with ease. How much damage one little broken solenoid had caused to his life. He tossed it into the cavity beneath his seat with a smile.
===
9.
The first hour he had clutched Nick to his chest and begged for him to open his eyes.
The second hour he had begged the sky to take him instead, give his brother back and take him instead.
The third hour he had listened to the idle talk of doctors and officers without hearing anything.
The fourth hour he realised he was laying in a bed, staring at a ceiling he didn’t recognise.
The fifth hour he cried.
It didn’t stop. He sobbed and sobbed, the abyss in his chest busted open and dragging him into it. His throat was raw, his body shaking in silent sobs and eyes stinging but no tears were left to fall.
He couldn’t have said how long Carole had been holding him, her own tears slipping through his hair as they rocked together on his hospital bed. Maverick came back to himself and found them like that. He found Bradley curled up asleep on a trundle bed in the room, hand clutching his toy plane tight even in sleep. The same way Maverick had clutched Goose in that frigid ocean.
He clung to Carole, fresh tears falling. He was astounded he had any left.
Around midnight they both sat still and silent. The noise of the hospital moved on around them but Carole and Pete sat together on his bed, clinging like children in the dark.
“I’m so sorry,” his voice was a grated sound.
“No.” Hers was no better. “No, Pete, don’t.”
“I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t hold the words back.
“I know.” Carole pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know.”
“What are we gonna do without him?” Pete asked, voice cracking.
“I don’t know,” she gave a small sob.
Pete clung harder. The yawning abyss swallowed him whole.
===
He was discharged in the morning. “No outstanding injuries” the doctor had told him. Pete disagreed, the tearing pain in his entire soul definitely felt like an outstanding injury. Instead he simply nodded and headed back to quarters.
As he passed by a window he noticed his stubble had grown in and his hair was a mess. The routine of showering and shaving settled him infinitesimally, bringing some sense of normal back. Then he cried all over again because clearly life went on even without Goose and the pain of that thought was fresh and sharp.
Viper found him there, leaning on the sink, staring at his whiskers and trying to breathe again.
He said things about the pain of losing someone. That he would get used to it. That he would get over it.
“You have to let him go.”
Maverick’s vision went blurry and he realised he was holding his breath. He only let it go as Viper patted his shoulder and left once more.
How did you let go of someone that was one half of you? Pete stared at his red eyes in the mirror, the pain flaring once more. He had let Goose go, the jagged wound inside him was proof enough of that.
===
He moved like a zombie. Charlie came and went, saying words as she always did. Carole came and collected Goose’s things, pressing the dogtags into Maverick’s palm before she left to organise a funeral. Maverick sat on the floor of the lounge with Bradley in his lap.
The pair of them stared vacantly at the cartoons on the TV. Bradley’s head was heavy against Mav’s collarbone. He still clutched his toy plane in one hand, the other holding on to Pete tightly. He smelt so familiar, the weight and warmth of him soothing the empty pain in Mav’s chest a little.
“Where’s dad?” Bradley said, voice quiet.
“He’s gone,” Pete whispered, fresh tears already brewing. “He’s gone, buddy.”
“Will he come back?”
“No, Bradley.” Pete took a shuddering breath. “He can’t come back this time.”
“Will you go too, Uncle Mav?” Bradley turned to look up at him, his eyes confused and searching Pete’s face for comfort. “You and daddy go everywhere together.”
The tears spilled over, Pete clutching Bradley to his chest tight and rocking a little.
“No, Gosling,” Pete gasped through the pain. “I can’t go with him this time. I’ll stay here with you.”
There was a beat before Bradley spoke again. “I don’t want daddy to be lonely. But I’m glad you’re staying.”
Pete clung to the little boy, feeling the words settle into his chest. They soothed and stabbed at him simultaneously.
===
The memorial was a blur. The grim faces, condolences and heavy grief washed over him relentlessly. He ached to leave but knew he had to stay. He held Bradley close and kissed Carole’s cheek in farewell as they left.
Maverick seemed to come back to himself alone in his room. He was truly alone. No more doctors, no more Carole, no more Bradley. Just Pete Mitchell and his loneliness.
He stared around at the room. Nothing but his bed, his desk and the small wireless radio Goose had given him two weeks into their stay. Mav crossed to the wireless and flicked it on, searching channels until he settled on an oldies station. It was late enough that there was little talking from the DJ and mostly just endless music.
Standing at the desk, letting the soulful sounds of Etta James crash against him, Maverick pulled the desk drawer open. The silver wedding band was right where he had left it. He scooped it out of the drawer and slid it onto his finger.
He hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell Goose about his revelation in the parking lot. They had gone to dinner and talked about Charlie, they had sung Great Balls of Fire and then Carole had demanded time with Nick.
Maverick folded himself onto the floor. He pulled the ring off and stared at it. There were so many things he needed to say to Goose. So much that had happened and would happen, things Maverick wanted to share with him and never could again.
Things that Maverick was now destined to live alone with.
The music changed, the first few notes of Otis Redding poking at Pete’s tender heart. He looked at the radio, contemplating smashing it it pieces. And then the lyrics started and for the first time in his life, Pete Mitchell understood his mother.
He laid his head back on the bed behind him and felt the words pour into his chest.
The song ended, the DJ coming back on to talk about something inane. Maverick opened his hands to find he had been crushing the ring into his palm.
Amazed at how his brain worked, Pete suddenly realised that if Iceman was his husband, he couldn’t possibly know it. He realised that if anyone had the papers from the marriage it must be Pete himself.
Aware that he was merely distracting himself from the grief, Pete dragged his bag out from beneath the bed. He dug around the bottom with one hand, moving discarded socks out of the way until his fingers found paper. He pulled the page out, still folded in eighths but also twisted and crushed from the travel.
He untwisted it, opening it slowly as his heart thumped. It was flowery and ornamental.
Certificate of Marriage
This is to certify that Peter Maverick Mitchell and Tomas Iceman Kazansky were united in marriage.
Maverick stared. Slowly, he noticed there was a wet spot on the page and brushed it away. It took another moment for him to realise it was a tear.
There was his scrawling writing for his name and his callsign. And the bold, slanting letters of Iceman’s hand for his.
“Fucking hell,” he said to the empty room. “Fucking hell, Goose, it’s really him.” He gave a weak, wet laugh. “I hope wherever you are you can see this. I hope you’re laughing your ass off.”
And then clear as a bell, Mav heard Goose’s voice again. “See, Mav, you still have family.”
Maverick sniffed and closed his eyes. Listening for more but the voice was gone, the memory fading already. Calm settled over him as he waited to hear Goose again.
Holding the certificate in one hand, the ring in the other, Maverick slipped into a deep sleep on the floor.
===
10.
When he woke that morning the calm was replaced by a deep ache in his back. He was too old and too sober to sleep on the floor. The day descended into hell from there.
Carole was gone. He was cleared of any guilt and sent back out to fly that day’s hops.
His hands shook. His lungs weren’t working. It was all he could do to keep his mask on and not throw up. Sundown was yelling something from the backseat but all Pete could hear was the crunching sound of Goose hitting the canopy.
He stared at the wall of the bathroom without seeing anything except Goose’s bloody face and green dye in the ocean.
The next hop was worse. He began to go hypoxic within minutes and had to land before he blacked out. Wolfman had been up with him, filling in for the hop as his RIO now that Maverick didn’t have one. He stayed quiet, only speaking to tell Mav to bring it back down steady.
Maverick knew Wolf followed him to his quarters but the RIO stayed silent, watching him pack. Beyond that, Maverick lost track. He hustled to the locker room to grab the last of his things. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t stand to listen to the roar of jets or be surrounded by the memories of how he used to fly as easy as breathing. Now he couldn’t even breathe while he flew.
It was just his luck that as he was emptying his locker, Iceman found him.
“Mitchell,” Ice said.
Pete froze. The reality of their relationship crushing down on him.
“I’m sorry about Goose.”
Maverick couldn’t move. He knew if he turned around he would throw himself at Ice and beg him not to leave.
“Everybody liked him.”
Silently, eyes closed against the room, Pete Mitchell begged Tom to say it. To admit he knew they were married. To offer to be what he had lost. To say he’d stay even if they hated each other.
“I’m sorry.”
Silence stretched.
Pete grabbed his bag and walked out, letting his heart rip out his back as he did. What was one more lost piece now?
===
Maverick wasn’t sure where he was going anymore. He pushed his Kawasaki down a long empty road, letting the noise of the wind drown out Charlie’s nasty words.
He knew what she was doing. She was trying, in a fucked up way, to motivate him back into flying. He growled along with the engine of his bike. She needed therapy.
The thought made him laugh, a ragged harsh noise. He needed therapy too.
He was a husk clinging to the world. There was nothing left of him that made up Maverick. He had lost Goose. He had lost his ability to fly. He lost the Navy. He was nothing anymore. He was no one.
As he pushed the bike faster approaching 100 miles per hour, a memory hit him.
He was suddenly in that parking lot teasing Iceman about going 100 miles per hour. He had said it felt like flying.
And it did. He realised with a shock that the adrenaline rushing through him was familiar. His lungs were working hard but only with the force of the wind against him. He was still breathing.
He was still alive.
Maverick lifted off the throttle. He let the bike slow back to a reasonable 90.
If he was still alive then he could still fly. He knew that deep in his tattered soul. With the realisation a piece of him seemed to settle back into place. He had promised Bradley he would stay. Carole had told him to keep flying.
Maverick cursed and rolled the bike to a stop on the side of the road. He turned around, knowing where he was going for the first time in a week.
===
The day was too bright. The sun making their dress whites shine with glare. He hadn’t known where his hat was, he didn’t particularly care. He was late and he didn’t particularly care about that either. He was here. He was alive. That was enough.
Steeling himself, Maverick shuffled through the press of people to where Iceman and Slider were grinning like fools at their win. It sent a weird sense of happiness and bitterness through Mav. It could have been him, it should have been him, but he found he didn’t really care anymore.
He held his hand out, ignoring the way Ice searched his face.
“Congratulations,” Pete said, and meant it.
“Thank you.” Iceman looked like he wanted to say something else but after a second it disappeared and Pete pulled back into the crush of bodies.
He moved through to where Hollywood and Wolf were standing, drinking already.
“Wolfman,” Pete said, raising a hand in greeting. “I just wanted to say thanks.” He held his hand out once more.
Wolf gave him a smile, smacked the hand aside and drew Maverick into a crushing hug.
“Don’t mention it, Mav,” Wolf said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s get you a drink.”
He began to protest but found his voice had gone hoarse, throat constricting with emotion.
“Glad you’re here, Mav,” Chipper slapped his back as he went by.
All Maverick could do was nod in acknowledgement.
“Hey, Mav!” Sundown cried and made a beeline for them through the crowds. “Was worried you wouldn’t make it.”
Maverick gave a weak laugh and nodded. “I almost didn’t. No fucking idea where my hat is,” he said, making the others laugh.
“Surprised they found one that fits that big head of yours,” Hollywood teased.
And just like that, he was home again. The grief burned deep in his gut but Mav found another piece he thought he had lost falling back into place.
===
The orders were short and sharp. They were to ship out to the Enterprise within the hour. Maverick ground his teeth together. Life just wouldn’t give him a break.
Two steps forward and one step back. He found he wanted to stay and then life shoved him straight into the deep end once again. With a groan, Maverick knew he still had one more thing to do. He collected the ring and certificate from his bag and walked the short hall to Tom’s room.
His heart was in his throat as he knocked. He couldn’t feel his fingers. His lips appeared to be tingling in the way they did when Stinger was on a tear at him for some bullshit he’d pulled.
The door opened. Iceman’s face dropped into surprise and stayed there.
“Mitchell,” Ice said.
“I need to talk to you, Kazansky,” Pete was proud of how steady his voice sounded over the loud hammer of his heart.
“Uh, sure.” Ice stepped back, letting him into the room. “Don’t you need to pack?”
Maverick noticed that Ice’s bag was open on the bed, things stacked neatly in it.
“Never unpacked,” he said, willing himself to stay calm and keep breathing.
“Right.” The word hung between them.
Ice moved past him and started packing again.
Mav took a steady breath. He stepped over to the desk and dropped the certificate and ring onto it, letting the metal clatter against the wood.
Tom went still, hands frozen in his bag. Then he straightened, shoulders pulling back.
“I, uh, found that in my bag,” Pete said when it became apparent that Ice wasn’t going to respond.
Slowly, movement clipped, Ice turned to face him. His mouth opened but for once nothing came out and he closed it again. Pete would have laughed if anything other than sick anxiety could make it past his swollen heart.
With a short sigh, Iceman turned back to his bag and produced his own piece of paper and a ring. He set them both on the bedside table. Maverick’s stomach dropped through the floor.
“How long have you known?” His voice was rough.
“The wake.” Ice’s eyes were locked onto him now. Those glacial blue eyes searching him once more. “The night of the memorial.”
It hurt. A new type of pain sliced at Maverick and he was momentarily stunned that there was pain he hadn’t felt before. Ice had known that day in the locker room.
“You and Slider went to Vegas the night before Top Gun,” Mav said, fighting down the rage and sadness and giddy sensation that all fought for dominance within him.
“We did,” Ice said and seemed to sink a little further into himself. “You and Bradshaw did too. Obviously.”
“My idea,” Pete said, smiling a little as the giddiness seemed to rise anyway. “A blowout before we got here to work.”
Before the memory of Goose could seize him, Mav moved on.
“Do you… remember any of it?” He said.
Ice gave a smile, an edge of bitterness to it as the corners pulled out rather than up.
“A little. Bits and pieces.” Ice sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. “I remember a dance club, being incredibly drunk. And laughter.”
“Lots of laughter,” Pete whispered, nodding and hearing Ice’s intoxicating laugh in his mind once more.
“I think…” Tom began and paused.
Pete watched him; eyes drinking in the way his jaw tightened and then let go, words rushing out.
“I think I remember kissing you.”
The giddiness spiked, Pete felt his stomach flip right over. He opened his mouth to tell Ice he was fairly sure they’d done a bit more than just kissing in that bathroom, if his memories were accurate at all. A sharp knock on the door cut him off.
“Lets get the lead out, Kazansky!” It was Slider’s voice through the door.
Maverick jolted back to Earth. He realised where he was and what he was doing. And worse, what they were both about to go and do. With a short nod, he grabbed the certificate and ring and fled. His shoulder banged hard against Slider but he didn’t look back for fear the other man might see the panic on his face.
Astoundingly, Maverick found another piece of himself had repaired in the short conversation. His insides still looked like a half-finished mosaic, but it was better than the gaping abyss it had been for days.
===
11.
The Enterprise was like torture.
Maverick knew if he hadn’t managed to sew at least a few bits of his heart back together before he had come aboard, he would have thrown himself into the ocean by now. The kind words, the pitying looks, the deafening silence of Merlin; it grated against him.
Goose was everywhere and nowhere. Memories plagued him until he felt like he was seeing ghosts.
With a pounding headache he retreated to his bed and refused to move until he fell asleep.
===
He was Alert-5. He was only being sent up if something went wrong.
Maverick stopped by his bunk, grabbing Goose’s dogtags. He paused at the end of the hall and turned back. Quickly, knowing he was cutting it close, he grabbed the silver wedding ring and looped it onto the tags.
Merlin met him at the door.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, glancing up at the rumble of the catapult overhead.
“I needed something,” Mav said. “Let’s go.”
“You good, Mav?” Sam asked, voice pitched low as they hustled through the carrier.
“Yeah.” He nodded, not feeling fine at all. “Yeah.” He knew he was trying to reassure himself more than Merlin.
The taller man’s face was pinched, tension framing his eyes. Mav tried for his signature cocky smile. Merlin rolled his eyes.
“What Ice said…” Merlin started as they began a preflight.
“Don’t worry about it,” Pete said, waving him down.
Sure, the words had hurt. Burned hot against Pete’s fragile nerves for a moment before the burning turned to righteous anger. He wasn’t sure if that was Iceman’s plan all along, but he definitely felt motivated to prove his stupid husband wrong again.
“We’ll just have to show him, huh?” Pete tried for another grin, this one apparently stuck because Merlin grinned back.
===
“Five! I repeat five! I’m in deep shit!”
Maverick held his breath as they launched, his heart pounding as they took to the air and raced for Ice and Slider.
===
“Get in there, Mav!” Merlin sounded borderline hysterical but Maverick couldn’t hear anything except his own ragged breathing.
===
“Talk to me, Goose,” he prayed.
“Mav, you still have family,” Goose said from the backseat, his voice affectionately exasperated. “Do some of that pilot shit.”
Time stopped. Pete Mitchell drew the deepest breath he’d had for days. Blood rushed to his brain. Time started again.
Everything was in focus. Sharp and clear. He yanked on the stick, making Merlin yelp.
===
12.
It was the moment Pete “Maverick” Mitchell had been waiting for his entire life. He had laid in bed as an ensign picturing this moment. He had seen this moment on the back of his eyelids every time he had walked away from a fight over being Duke Mitchell’s kid. He had been waiting, chafing, for this moment to come.
Yet now it was here, all he wanted to do was find a dark, quiet corner and rest.
His need for attention was saturated. He felt soggy and like his bones carried too much weight. His mouth tasted like ash from cigars and his throat hurt from talking.
It took a long moment for him to realise Iceman had disappeared at some stage. Maverick took it as all the permission he needed. He waved the chattering group down, claiming he needed the bathroom.
As soon as he was out of sight he turned into a hall and then climbed. The paraloft would be empty, the entire crew down in the mess instead. He pushed into the small room and paused. There were legs and boots sticking out from the back corner.
Maverick smiled a little to himself, surprised that he knew those boots and legs. He walked over and folded himself down beside Ice. He tucked himself close enough to feel the warmth of the other man against his upper arm. He felt the shake of Ice as a silent sob hit him.
Without a word, Mav leaned into him and let the soggy feeling rush out. A few tears leaked down his cheeks and he couldn’t stop sniffling, but he didn’t care. He let Ice cry quietly beside him. He would never breathe a word of it.
Eventually the shaking sobs beside him lessened and stopped. Maverick resisted the urge to rest his head on Ice’s shoulder.
“Thanks,” Ice croaked.
“You too, Ice,” Mav whispered, unsure just what he was thanking him for. For the warmth of another human, for letting him be there while he cried, for knowing exactly how this felt.
“I guess we need to get a divorce?” Tom said, eyes rolling to Mav.
He went cold. His body tensing and mind stuttering a bare second. Mav tried to get a grip on himself.
“I thought you said I could be your wingman any time,” Pete tried his hardest to grin, forcing the joke out.
Tom laughed. It rushed warmth back through Mav’s veins and the shaky fear faded away again. That laugh was like music to him. It was like rain after a long drought.
Ice opened his hand, letting Maverick see the silver ring looped onto his dogtags. Mav opened his own hand to reveal Goose’s with his own ring.
They laughed together. Pete knocking the toes of his boot’s against Tom and squirming when the other man elbowed him back.
The sound of their laughter together slotted another piece of him back into the mosaic. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
No, he didn’t want a divorce. He had been right all those weeks ago. Drunk Pete Mitchell had known that the man he’d married was special, had been the one he was searching for.
He turned, catching Ice’s jaw with his free hand and pressing a kiss to his lips. They were as soft as they looked, even when laughing. He leaned back to find an adorably shocked look on Tom’s face. He kissed him again, for good measure.
“What about Charlie?”
The words dented his joy and Pete leaned away once more. “There was no laughter,” he said softly. “All I remember of our wedding is laughter. I remember feeling happier than I had in years.”
He wanted to tell Tom that it was his laugh that made him remember. That when he heard that sweet sound it had saved Maverick in more ways than one.
“You make me…” Ice was speaking, interrupting his thoughts. “You piss me off, Mitchell. You and your goddamn rebel spirit.”
“Gee, thanks,” Pete muttered. It was good to know he was still Ice.
“I’ve always had a thing for bad boys,” Ice’s voice was sly. “Just ask Slider.”
Maverick barked out a laugh and bumped his shoulder into Ice. The other pilot tangled their fingers together, holding tight.
It seemed the best he was going to get out of the stoic Iceman, the closest he was going to get to a real confession. Pete glanced up at him, wanting to see Tom’s eyes because they never really lied to him.
Soft lips pressed to his once more and Maverick’s brain went blank. This was far more of a kiss than the two he had stolen before. He could taste the sweat and tears. He could smell Tom’s scent and a hint of hair gel. Then Tom was leaning into him, over him, and Pete stopped thinking all together.
Pete clutched at him, securing them together before Tom could wise-up and leave. It only brought them closer still. Heat burned through Maverick and senses he thought long-dead roared to life. He felt like he was flying again. Tom made a small noise of want, pushing it straight into Pete’s mouth, and then released him.
He heaved in air, revelling in this new feeling of breathlessness. Ice was watching him, eyes overbright and still tracing Mav’s lips every few moments. Mav leaned up and stole another kiss, still holding tight to Ice’s flight suit.
“I guess you can be my husband,” he muttered, unable to draw away for long before he needed another kiss.
“Bullshit.” Ice chuckled. “You can be mine.”
“That’s not funny, Kazansky,” Mav said, no real heat to his tone.
“It’s pretty funny,” Ice mumbled, too busy kissing at Maverick’s jaw.
Whatever Maverick was about to say died in his chest as Tom latched on to the sensitive skin beneath his ear and gave a gentle suck. Mav made a strange mewling noise before cursing. Ice laughed softly, evilly, right into Mav’s ear.
With another muttered curse, Pete turned and threw a leg over Ice’s hips, straddling him right there on the floor of the paraloft. He was rewarded with a shocked expression before Tom leaned up eagerly and kissed at his lips once more. Mav delved his hands into Ice’s hair and gripped one shoulder, it was broad and strong. Another fuzzy drunk memory surfaced but he was too busy living the real thing to pay much attention.
“Ice,” Pete said through kisses after a while.
“Tom,” the other man corrected.
“Tom,” Pete pulled back but kept his hands linked behind Tom’s neck, one in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I was being serious. About being your husband.”
An amused glint flashed through Tom’s eyes as he looked up at Pete. His hands were planted on one of Mav’s hips, the other on his ass.
“Why on Earth would you want to be married to me?” Tom asked, frowning a little. Pete kissed at the small wrinkle without thinking.
“You…” Pete sighed and sat back a little more. “You make me a better person. And you really do make me laugh. Now that I can read you.”
Tom’s face went slack, all hint of persona and facade long gone. He gave a sad smile and a sigh.
“I’m a cold-hearted bastard, Mitchell,” he said quietly. “I don’t tolerate anything less that perfect, especially not in myself.”
Pete quirked his eyebrows, already well aware of these traits.
“I don’t get drunk married,” Ice said, frowning harder now.
Maverick opened his mouth to point out that they literally had done just that, but Ice wasn’t finished.
“But I married you. I remember how light it made me feel. Ok, so it might have been all the vodka,” Ice smirked and Pete laughed. “But again, today, when we buzzed the tower… It feels easier around you.”
The fluttering embarrassment and glee in Mav’s stomach threatened to overwhelm him. He clutched onto Ice’s shoulders harder, trying to remind himself it was real.
“Good,” Pete said, leaning in and kissing Tom slowly, gently this time. “You deserve to feel easier. And you aren’t cold-hearted.”
Tom snorted. His arms wrapped Pete’s body and held him tight.
“Let’s try?” Pete whispered. “I vow to always make you laugh, Tom Kazansky.”
Tom snorted again and looked up into Pete’s eyes once more. “Was that your vow?”
“Mm-hmm,” Pete grinned, not even a little ashamed. “Your turn.”
“I vow to keep you from killing yourself or anyone else with your unsafe flying,” Tom said, eyes dancing.
Pete threw his head back and laughed. After a beat Tom joined in. He smacked Tom’s shoulder but kept laughing anyway. The shaking joy was enough to make him feel whole and complete for the first time since Goose left him. Or earlier still.
“Unacceptable,” Pete said though the last of his giggles. “No, I don’t accept. Try again.”
Tom chuckled, pulling Pete close once more until he could whisper.
“I vow to always be here, Pete Mitchell,” he whispered, cheeks flaring pink. “I wont leave unless you tell me to go.”
The last piece of his fractured heart slipped back into place. Pete gave a shuddery breath and pressed their foreheads together.
“Good,” he whispered back. “I do.”
Tom ruined the moment with another snort of laughter before pressing a slow kiss to Pete’s lips.
“I do too.”