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Everybody had always asked Ron, “How did you end up with Iceman?” or “What is it like flying with the Iceman?” or Ron’s personal favorite was, “Is iceman a big of a dick that everybody makes him out to be?” He always wanted to laugh when the questions came rolling in because they only saw the surface layer when there was so much beneath. Everybody had always believed that the two clashed heads because they were so different. But in reality, they were more of the same, Ice was just a tiny bit on the quieter side. Hell, if Ron had beef with Iceman then he wouldn't have stuck with him for years.
Ron had known Iceman for what he considered ages . They were in the same class during the academy, they got bunked together, they flew together, they got their first assignment together, and even ended up at TOPGUN together. How fate played into their hands like this, Ron would never know. But at this point, they were attached at the hip, practically inseparable. Some hated it, some hated them but with one, you got the other.
Ron called it friendship, Iceman called it abandonment issues.
It was three weeks before their arrival in Miramar California when their CAG had told them that they were being sent off to TOPGUN, they looked at each other with full-blown smirks, for their commander had told them, “You boys are just so much better than the test, I wouldn't be sending anyone else.”
Ron knew how good they were, Ice even more so, and their efforts were finally being recognized. They didn't put their entire lives into what they do for shits and giggles. Both Iceman and Ron had family in the navy, and they had heard the rumors of Top Gun. The best of the best go there to compete against each other and only one of the pair will be named the very best. As soon as their commander had told them so, their sights were only set on the pretty trophy and that even prettier title.
Later, when they were both tucked away in their living quarters, Ron had Black Sabbath’s Paranoid blasting from his Walkman into his headphones while Iceman looked at him proudly and maybe even a little fond, an open expression that only Ron was able to see. A crack in the ice-cold, no mistakes persona that Iceman made for himself. When Ron catches his eye, he drops his headphones around his neck with the song still playing, the guitar chords distinguishable in the mostly silent room, Ozzy’s shrill voice filling the silence.
“Why are you looking at me like you wanna kiss me?” Ron asks with an eyebrow raised, a taunt to his words.
Iceman rolls his eyes but licks his lips, “Please. Been there, done that.”
Now, this wasn’t something new between them. The jokes meant something a little bit more, to them , but if anybody else heard they would assume it was friendly banter. The two of them learned pretty quickly that they were immensely attracted to each other, and understood each other beyond just “an RIO and his pilot” relationship. Had they messed around before in the past, definitely, but they decided that it's better to keep it platonic.
While Ron wouldn't mind giving in to the kissable lips that Iceman has, just this once, he knew better not to. But it's always fun fucking with him, so he strides closer to where Iceman is sitting and leans into his space, close enough so that they are breathing in each other’s air. Iceman’s eyes are wide in anticipation, which just makes Ron feel good about himself.
“Sorry Ice, these lips aren't yours to kiss anymore. Go rub out your adrenaline rush in the shower or something.” And Ron pulls away, pulling his headphones back up over his ears and restarting the cassette, but not before he shoots a smirk to a dazed Ice behind him.
Ron watched as Ice breaks himself out of his daze and actually got his stuff to go take a shower.
That was the thing with Iceman, after years of spending it by his side, Ron knew that whenever Ice got recognized for his perfection, either it being verbal praise or small recognition, he became more exposed. Allowing his arrogance and his determination to seep through more than what it does. Allowing himself to succumb to not smart decisions only to have to later fix them. Iceman prides himself on being perfect, his brass coming out like that. His drive to be perfect was strong and he would do everything to achieve so.
While Ron has never minded that personality trait (it's what made him flock to Iceman in the first place) sometimes it became reckless and it threw Ron out of line. Iceman wasn’t reckless, he was always in control, never making a mistake, but he was just as human as the rest of them, maybe even more so. When Iceman first came onto him, a simple questioning tone of the word men?, he would have never expected it to lead to something more. Now the thing between them was close to nothing, but 3 weeks ago it was in full swing.
It was the first of many breaks in Iceman’s armor.
When the track ends on the tape, Ron flips it and loses himself in the music of Iron Man . TOPGUN is weeks away and personally, Ron can’t wait.
Sitting in that stuffy room, watching all these sweaty men, hearing the voices of Viper and Jester, put Ron on edge. All the men around him were different – he recognized most of the others from Annapolis, except one– he just couldn't quite focus on what Viper was saying. Being in a room with all of these well-capable flyers set his skin on fire, knowing Ice was the same way because he was twiddling his pen across his knuckles. A sign of anticipation and lurking anxiety, both out of excitement, to show everybody there that they are the best. All this competition and Ron understood that they would come out at the top once again, as they always do.
He turns to look at Ice, watching the side of his face. Ron was sitting close to Ice, maybe a little too close for comfort, but after hearing the words spoken by the two pilots in front of them, Hollywood and Wolfman, the close proximity didn’t seem like a big deal. He and Ice weren't the only RIO and pilot that had a past. But the way “ don't tease me” was spoken, Ron believed that those two were still fucking. As Viper kept talking, he watched the side of Ice’s face as he surveyed the rest of the men in the room. Eyes lingering a little longer on the man sitting next to Goose Bradshaw.
He was young, looking like he was straight out of high school but even Slider, who’s not the best at reading people, could tell what his personality had in store. Ron had figured he was one arrogant bastard. More so than himself and Iceman, but in a different way.
Ron watched as his pilot’s eyes connected with those of the other and how Iceman raised the hand that was twirling the pen, showcasing the academy ring on his finger, never breaking eye contact. Ron’s eyebrow raised in questioning when the two made eye contact again and Iceman sent him a shark-like smile. A smile that rarely came out of Iceman. Ron was confused at the interaction but all the more interested, for the guy gave his partner one look and the cool facade broke. He was the only one that managed to do that and most of the time it ended with Ice shoving him for the stupid shit that came out of his mouth.
When the dude opened his mouth, his assumption stood corrected, he was arrogant but in a flashy and reckless way. The exact opposite of Iceman and the instant rivalry that was formed between the two looks made sense. With how close he was sitting to his Ice, he could feel when Ice tensed up, the pen stalling in between his fingers and hands closing into fists. Ron's eyebrows flew into his hair, Iceman wasn't his callsign for shits and giggles, he was cool, hardly affected. But his body language was telling Ron that he had already managed to be irked by the dark-haired man and his mouth.
Ron was even more shocked when Iceman made a smart quip towards the man, trying to provoke him, but failed because Goose’s laugh broke all the tension. When they had left the room, Ron grabbed Ice by the forearm and stopped him, “What was all that about?”
Ice turned around with his head tilted and eyebrows raised slightly, “What was all what about?”
Ron studied him for a second, trying to find a lie, but was shocked to find nothing of the source.
Huh.
Ron let go of his arm and muttered a quick “never mind” while pulling his headphones over his years and starting the cassette of Master of Reality.
After their first briefing and getting settled in at their living assignments, Ron and Ice had decided to go hit the local club, one that was frequently visited by navy officers.
Well actually, it was more like Ron had dragged Ice off of his lazy ass to go to the club. Ice didn't want to go, putting up a fight, shoving Ron, and saying “Fuck off, I want to sleep. Not spend my night in a bar full of sweaty officers trying to pick up women way out of their league.”
But Ron was the life of the party and Iceman’s savior so he didn't take no for an answer. Not until he buttoned his shirt back up and put his shoes back on. And he pranced down the porch with a skip while Ice was hating life behind him, following at a pace slower than a sloth. He turned his head and watched as Ice put his aviators on, shielding his eyes, and as his face fell into the cool indifference that he had gotten so used to. It was Iceman’s mask when he went out, the tiredness that was present a few minutes ago no longer found and Ron smiled.
“C’mon, I’ll even drive, because I'm such an amazing friend that brings light back into the cold darkness of your soul.”
Ice bounded to the opposite side of the car while flipping Ron off, but he could still see the small, crooked, smile of Ice.
Not admitting to anybody but himself that this night could be fun.
~~~~
Okay so maybe Ice was right.
Would he ever admit it to his face, never. The guy didn’t need a bigger ego and an even bigger superiority complex.
The club was packed, full of soldiers and women. Somehow all of the soldiers were in their dress whites, looking identical to anybody else in the sea of bodies. Ron himself was sweaty from all the body heat and he had just gotten here, so he knew everybody else was the same or even worse. Girls were all around, wearing skimpy dresses and looking pretty, and normally Ron wouldn't mind, because he likes to fuck women just as much as he likes to fuck men, but damn these girls were some bimbos. The one on his arm was pretty, with light brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes, but the entire time she was in his company she had just been repeating how being a naval officer is so cool. Ron wanted to just about gag. It was pretty cool but not when it was being repeated every time his attention drifted.
He let the girl next to him run her mouth as his eyes looked for a familiar head of blond that seemed brighter in the dark lighting of the club. He found the figure, leaning in a dark corner, looking how he felt, severely bored and disinterested, sipping on what he assumed was vodka, with a girl just as blond as him clutching him by the arm.
Ice hated vodka so he knew he wasn’t having a good time, he hated blonds too. Which to Ron just seemed like self-loathing.
He couldn't see Ice’s eyes behind the shades he had on but when he assumed Iceman was looking at him, he jerked his head to the bar, using any excuse to get them both out of their awkward situations and refill their drinks. Ice nodded and Ron started his way towards the bar. He had almost made it to where the bartender was before a certain Goose Bradshaw stopped him.
Their hellos were brief, barely even hellos, and more like insults. Goose was always a character, always making somebody laugh, Ron would never admit it but he was glad Goose was at Top Gun, even if his dickhead of a pilot was in there with him.
Ron felt a presence step up beside him and there Ice was greeting Goose, with warmth and friendliness. While this should be out of character for Ice, Goose had the gift of bringing out the best in anybody. Even his callous best friend. But Ron knew firsthand that Ice considered Nick a friend, after all, Ice was the one who gave him his call sign. After a drunken night that left them all hanging in the morning, there was Nick, feeling the same as them but taking the time to take care of the band of misfits he adopted during the academy. There, Mother Goose was born.
Ron watched as Goose introduced Ice to the unknown pilot, Maverick Mitchell, and Ice was once again all smiles and lighter tones. Friendly. But Ron knew better when it came to Ice, the friendliness was just an act in order to lure in his prey and gear them up for the blow they were about to receive. But that blow came in later than expected. Ice stepped closer to Maverick, disguising the action as reaching into the cashew bowl behind him, but Ron was dumbfounded to see that Ice hardly moved back. Staying right there in Maverick's personal bubble. Where they had a full-blown stare-off and Ice fired off words that everybody knew but would never say.
Ron was shocked, eyes wide, and he spared a glance at Goose beside him who looked the exact same way, mouth parted in a small “o”. Ron leaned to his side a little, welcoming himself into Goose’s space, keeping his eyes locked on the pair in front of them, and whispered, “Did they know each other before this? Why are they so close.”
Ron knew the answer but he just needed confirmation from another human being.
Goose leaned closer to Ron, doing the same, keeping his eyes locked, “Nope. Mav is fresh meat and doesn't know any of yall.”
Ron whipped his head around to stare at Goose who just gave him a side glance back.
Huh.
Iceman stepped back slightly, lifting his glass to his lips, and downed the whole thing, or what was left in it. Ron did the same and stayed silent as Maverick and Iceman bid each other farewell. Iceman walked away and Ron watched with silent interest as Maverick eyes followed the back of his pilot.
Ron shook out of his gaze and nodded at the pair while trialing after Ice, who was walking fast towards the exit. In a hurry to get out of the club.
When they walked out into the fresh air, Ron called out to Ice. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”
Ice stayed silent for a moment, his aviators firmly in place despite the sky being black overhead. Ron noted that Ice’s mask was back in place. Closing himself off from further inspection and not allowing himself to give off any more emotions than necessary.
“I don't like Maverick.”
Ron snorted but put that statement in his Ice: Master of Denial mental folder. “I don't think anybody but Goose does. Just and even better reason to blow him out of the water and beat him for the title.” He clapped a hand on Ice's shoulder as they made their way to the car and settled in.
Ice shot him a look when he shoved the key into the ignition, “You good to drive?”
Ron gave him a dumb look, “I’ve been worse during our time at the academy, you're gonna be fine, princess.”
Ice flipped him off and looked out the window. No heat in the gesture and nothing behind the look. Glasses are still in a firm place. Ron had wished he would take the damn things off, the mask while he was at it, so he can try to guess what the fuck is going on in his head. But Ice was one stubborn bastard and while Ron was confused he didn't want to push Tom.
Ron reached across Ice’s lap to get into the glove compartment and was only satisfied when he found the cassette to Rebel Yell. He peeled out of the parking lot and let the drive be filled with Billy Idol’s voice as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel. Glad to see, Ice’s fingers drumming on his lap.
While his mind was swimming with questions he decided that time will give him his answers. But he knew he was going to have to be way more perceptive than he is now.
They had just gotten out of their first hop, hair drenched in sweat, flight gear heavy on their frames, but overall feeling good. Slider had his arm draped across Ice all the way back to the locker room, excitement and dopamine levels through the roof because of their performance. Nailing Jester had never felt so good, and Ron knew that Ice felt the same way. Putting them ahead of the rest and inserting their dominance over the rest of the flyers. They were already killing the game when they had just started.
When they walked into the locker room, the commotion was high, Goose and Wolfman’s voices louder than the rest and Ron wanted to know what the fuck they were walking into. He was curious to see if he needed to pop somebody in the mouth for spewing stupid shit.
He tapped Chipper on the shoulder because he was at the doorway of the locker room, “What’s up with them?” and nodded a head towards the group of four by their lockers.
“Goose and Maverick are on a high horse because they got Jester.”
Slider cast a glance towards his pilot who was still beside him and their expressions mirrored each other. Behind the glasses, their eyes were wide and their eyebrows skyrocketed into their hair. Ron and Ice had thought the same, had thought those two were nothing but talk, and had no skill to show for it. But if their pair, alongside his and Ice’s, were the only ones to secure a hit on Jester then they severely underestimated the dickheads.
Sundown came from behind them with a towel slung around his waist and pated Slider on the shoulder, “I wouldn’t count that win from those two, they went below the hard deck and pulled a reckless move that could’ve gotten somebody seriously hurt. But what else would you expect from Maverick”
Oh. Slider smirked, that was nice to know. They all knew the hard deck was law and going against the law would only get you arrested. He sent Ice another glance and saw a tick in his jaw. Eyebrows furrowed and lips in a hardline. The typical “Iceman disapproves of your bullshit” look.
Ron grasped his pilot by the shoulder and said in his ear as he went first to his locker, “The only thing that means is that we’re not sharing the podium with anybody”
They made their way to their respective lockers and Ron was the first to gladly announce that they had won. Rubbing it in all their faces because nobody could touch them.
When Hollywood threw in that Maverick and Goose had won also, Ron was beaten to the punch by his pilot. “That’s not what we heard.”
Goose jumped in saying that they got Jester but Ron was quick to shut down the words, “No, No, below the hard deck doesn’t count.”
For the first time since they arrived in the locker, Maverick decided to run his mouth, “Hard deck my ass, we nailed that son of a bitch.”
Ron was surprised by that, Maverick didn’t seem to notice the weight of his words because he gave Goose a hard handshake right after. Did the idiot not know what the fuck just came out of his mouth. Ron wasn’t the smartest or exactly the straightest but even he knew he would be caught with that sentence coming out of his mouth. Too many implications that Maverick seemed oblivious to.
Ron was too busy watching Maverick as Iceman spoke in a mocking tone, “You two really are cowboys.”
Ron still had eyes on Maverick when he turned around and confronted Ice, “What’s your problem Kazansky.”
Ron blanched. The pure disrespect of calling somebody by their last name when they exclusively went by their call signs. Maybe he would need to smack somebody in the mouth for some stupid shit and he would be more than happy to lay the hit on Maverick.
Ron tensed as Ice shut his locker and slowly turned around. Ice was never a man that favored confrontations, he believed he was too good for it. Not giving anybody the time of day to get under his skin and allow them to pull a reaction from him. But seemingly, that’s all that Maverick has been doing since they arrived at TOPGUN. Getting under Ice’s skin and staying there until Iceman has to claw him out.
“You’re everybody’s problem. That’s because every time you go up into the air, you’re unsafe”
True but damn.
“I don’t like you because you’re dangerous.”
Oh, this was new.
Iceman didn’t like many people. He normally stuck to himself just because he didn’t care enough to put in an effort. Did the academy have amazing memories that included people he considered “friends” at the time? sure. but that didn’t mean Iceman thought of them as so.
But what confuses Ron was how adamant he was about Maverick and his recklessness.
Iceman wasn’t exactly a team player but he wasn’t flying for himself either. Maverick's actions didn’t affect Ice or the way he flew, so why was he always confronting Maverick about being a “dangerous” lone wolf?
He was broken out of the mess of questions in his mind when Maverick’s squeaky ass voice countered ice, “That's right Ice… man. I am dangerous.” As he brushed imaginary dirt from Ice’s flight suit and patted him on the arms.
What came next was Sliders breaking point.
Ice.
Iceman.
The FUCKING iceman. Snapped his jaw at Maverick.
The motherfucker chomped at Maverick.
Ron had to look over at Goose (who was watching the same shit he was) to see if his eyes were deceiving him. Because maybe the feel good emotions got to his head and made him imagine that shit. When he looked over, Goose’s face said that did in fact happen. And they were the only ones who witnessed it.
Goose looked like he was about to gag and Slider seconded the feeling.
The chomp wasn’t even the worst part. (how it could get worse Ron had no fucking clue)
When Jester broke them out of their staring contest with his sharp order, Ice gave maverick a toothy grin and a rough pat on the arm. So out of character for Iceman and jesus, Ron needed to find out what the fuck was happening so he could save himself the headaches.
Just to break the tension, that’s could be cut with a fucking knife, Ron throws out a casual remark and moves to get dressed. Mind swimming with confusion and what the fuck he just witnessed between his pilot and the guy his very pilot “can’t stand.”
The beach was too much.
That damn game was too much.
How the fuck he managed to survive the stares shared through the holes of the net, the constant challenge between the two pilots that left the RIOs thoroughly exhausted, and (even with sunglasses that blocked their eyes) the lingering looks at each other bodies were beyond him.
Did they win the game? Yes.
Did it feel good? Fuck yeah.
Did Ron want to throw up when he saw Ice staring at the retreating back of Maverick in civvies leaving them? Definitely, and that was an understatement.
After the game, because they left soon after Maverick did, Ron put his headphones in and played Metallica’s Seek and Destroy because that’s how he felt watching Maverick and Ice.
When Ron stormed away with hands balled in fists because he was frustrated about why nothing was clicking, even though all the evidence was there, Ice grabbed him by the wrist.
Ron pulled one side of the headset from his ear and jerked his head in a what's up matter, beckoning Ice to talk.
“You alright man? Something looks up with you”
Ron scoffed and broke from his grip. “Nothing Ice, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later.” And he walked away.
Ron didn’t see the hurt look Iceman shot him because if he did he would've immediately apologized. He needed a drink, maybe 5, and he’s going to think real hard about what the fuck is going on in Ice’s head.
Metallica played in his ears and the music did nothing to help calm him.
They were all in the showers at the end of the day. Ron's back was hot and sticky against the bench he was currently laying on. Ignoring that many bare asses have sat on the very bench. Every single one of those fuckers was taking forever in the showers and robbing the hot water from the ones waiting a turn.
While Ron's body was facing the ceiling he kept a subtle eye on Maverick who was leaning against the pillar, seemingly tensed, chest rising and falling with the deep sighs he has been taking the past couple of minutes. When Jester came in to compliment him and scold him all at once, the mess of the hop seemed to find its way onto his features.
Ron would never admit it, but he has been keeping an eye on Maverick the past couple of days, trying to see what Iceman sees in him when he quickly realizes that Maverick is an open book. Emotions filter across his face every single second of the day. Goofy grins, deep frowns, or even small smiles that spoke with his eyes rather than his lips. Ron managed to catch them all and he hated how perceptive he started to become these days for somebody that wasn't Tom Kaznsky.
Ron never cared about the others, never preferred to get close enough to them in order to read them. Shit, he barely manages with Ice, but he still does so because he cares for his pilot and it helps that reading him comes naturally. After years of being side by side and Ron grew attached to the only friend he can proudly count on. He prides himself on being the same way as Ice. Iceman wasn't a verbal person but the hands on his shoulders, the occasional arm around his neck, the high fives, and the smiles that revealed his smile lines that weren't full of malice spoke enough to Ron.
Iceman actually did have the capacity to care for somebody other than himself.
When Jester walked out and Maverick made his way next to Goose on the bench, Ice came out of the shower, and leaned against the pillar Maverick was just occupying.
Iceman looked like he was reeling up to say something and Ron perked up immediately. There was a sort of sorrowful tension in the air of the showers and if Ron could feel it then Ice was most likely getting crushed by it.
“Maverick.”
Oh shit here we go, Ron thought.
“It's not your flying. It's your attitude.”
Shit, Ron could've told him that.
“The enemy is dangerous, but right now you’re worse than the enemy.”
Okay damn, Ron wouldn't have said that because that was a low blow. He could only imagine how Maverick is feeling at those words. The direct hit to his pride and individuality.
“You're dangerous and foolish. You may not like the guys flying with you, they may not like you, but whose side are you on?”
It clicked.
Holy Fuck if he was in a cartoon his mind would have exploded, but then come back together once Ron saw the look Iceman sent to the back of Maverick.
Open, his emotions were clear. But to anyone else, anybody but Ron, they would've mistaken the look for his usual coldness.
But Ron knew better.
The tension settled over the men in the showers and Ron knew that he wasn't the only one who felt it heavy on his chest. Once he saw Iceman leave he went for the showers himself. Ron let the warm spray drench him, for he stood under the water for several long minutes. Until he could no longer hear the chatter of the men who still waited for a stall.
Everything made sense. The shark smiles, the looks, the words that seemed like they had no meaning but in reality they meant everything. All of it made fucking sense.
Tom “Iceman” Kazansky liked the dude. He liked Pete “Maverick” Mitchell.
The same fucking dude who he told to his face that he didn't like their first week here.
As Ron replayed the words that were said to Maverick just a few minutes ago, a look that was sent to somebody who would never notice it, Ron knew that like was just a small part.
Ice cared for Maverick.
That's why he was always nagging him for his flying style. Flying foolishly and dangerously only ever got somebody hurt and Ice knew that better than anybody. He didn't fly by textbook, perfect, for no reason. When you fly perfectly, there is no room for mistakes. Ice did it so he could come home, so Ron could come home. Flying perfectly allowed them to come home.
Maverick was the exact opposite. Chasing the thrill, doing whatever it takes to get the kill. And Ron knew Ice understood that. Ron knew Ice well enough to say that he didn't want Maverick’s flying to catch up to him and hit him when he least expects it. And least of all, Ice didn't want to see Maverick’s wingman take the hit for the recklessness.
Ice always just wanted to see somebody safe.
But right then and there, Ice just wanted to see Maverick safe.
And god, that meant so much.
~~~~
Ron walked into Ice’s living assignment because he saw the light was still on. He was sporting a Metallica shirt, that Ron gifted him, and loose shorts.
Ron was anxious, he needed to know the exact words coming out of Ice’s mouth. Ron knew what he was going to say but hearing it would ease him. It would allow Ron’s mind to settle on the idea.
The anxiousness probably showed on his face, because Ice sat a little straighter where he was seated on the couch reading a fucking romance book because believe it or now (Ron still refused to believe it) that was Ice’s shit. Ron had once skimmed through Ice’s copy of Pride and Prejudice and it was full of notes and writing, beaten and bruised for how worn the book was. Ron laughed in Ice’s face that day, Ice’s cheeks a cute blush but he still glared at him.
Ron held up his hand, signaling Ice to stay where he was, and dropped his headphones around his neck. Pausing Oingo Boingo’s cassette that was playing in his ears.
“Mitchell.”
Ice perked up further, growing tense, “What about him? Did something happen?”
Ron fucking knew it.
“He’s fine.”
Ice cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Then what about him.”
Oh, this dickhead.
“What do you think about him?”
Iceman blinked at Ron for a moment. Confusion laced even deeper into his features. He opened his mouth, but Ron knew he was just to question him so he stopped before he could. “Nope don't ask why, just tell me.”
Ice sighed, deflating. All of the tension in his body released as he slumped into the couch.
“I don't know, Ron.”
Oh shit, he used his given name.
Ron used Ice’s given name quite often, but never vice versa. Only ever using it in serious moments or moments where they needed to be who they were before the call signs.
“I hate his flying style. I hate how reckless he is. I hate that he's right behind me in points. I hate how he's on my tail, and not even in the air. I hate that stupid fucking smile that's all dimples and teeth when he knows he gets on my nerves. I hate his damn unibrow. I hate how he has fun flying the way he does. And I fucking hate, that I admire him through it all.”
Ice takes a deep breath. His head dropped between his hands. He says something and if Ron wasn't expecting it he wouldn't have heard him.
“I hate that I'm proud to call him my rival and I don't want to see him crash and burn.”
Ron walks out of the room and back out to his car.
When he comes back in Ice is glaring at the door and his eyes widen when he sees Ron come back in with a six-pack.
When he places it on the coffee table and pulls two out of their slots and hands one to ice, he shakingly accepts it. Ron notes how his hands are slightly trembling.
“Thought you left.”
Ron opened up his own beer and settled next to him on the couch. He unplugged his headphones from his Walkman and pressed play. Just Another Day plays in the silence between them. Ron clicked their beers together and took a swing.
“Like I ever would.” Ron responds to the previous statement.
It was true. Tom always thought Ron had left after he revealed his true feelings, after letting the ice-cold mask fall, but every time Ron left to get some sort of comfort for the two of them and returned right by his side.
How it should be.
They let the music play between them, Ron bobbing his head to the beat while Ice let his head fall back onto the cushion and was mouthing the words,
Don't wanna hold on to never. I'm not that strong
“Mayday Mayday. Mav’s in trouble. He’s in a flat spin. He's heading out to sea.”
Oh, this wasn't good. Ron watched as the Mav and Goose were spiraling.
“Ice!”
“What slider?” Ice snapped at him. A drastic change from the tone he sent the distress call in.
“This isn't good, man!”
~~~~
Ron walked into the locker room an hour after the accident. The area was cleared out but Ice was sitting on the bench with his elbows on his knees and staring at the lockers in front of him.
“Hey”
Ice sat up straighter at the sound of his voice but didn't say anything back, just nodded in his direction as a greeting.
Ron sat next to him, eyes cast forward just like Ice’s but without the emptiness of his stare, “Did you hear?”
Ice nodded and looked down for a brief moment.
Ron moved his body so the tips of his knees were brushing Ice’s leg. He tried to read past the mask that was up but it was no use. Iceman was in his element at this moment. Features hard, not allowing any room for warmth.
“Mav is fine, he’ll be discharged tomorrow from the hospital and they just want to look over him for the night.”
Ice nodded again. But Ron doesn’t think that he heard him.
“It was our jetwash, Slider.”
Ron inwardly sighed. He knew this was coming.
“None of us could have known Tom. Accidents happen.”
Ice didn't say anything in return and just ran a hand through his hair. They elapsed in silence and a few sickening minutes later, Ron heard a whisper.
“So much for no mistakes.”
Ron sighed. He knew this was going to hit Ice hard, even if nobody would ever notice. He liked Goose, he was the one who came up with his call sign as well, a small but unbreakable friendship between the two.
Everybody thinks that Iceman treats life as his pawn. Goes through life thinking he is invincible, that's why he treats everything so coldly. But nobody knows that he treats life coldly so he doesn't disappoint, so he doesn't get left behind, so he doesn't get ignored. Iceman believes he treats life with indifference, and for the most part, he does, but when life slaps him in the face he feels it more than anyone else.
That's why Ron hooks an arm over his shoulder and brings him into the side of his neck. An awkward position for them but he feels Ice loosen up and he believes that he accomplished something great.
“Cmon, I got a couple new vinyls that I wanna listen to. We’ll order takeout and get shitfaced, like old times.”
Ice lets himself be pulled up and dragged out of the locker room, away from the feelings that he was experiencing in there.
On their way to Ron’s house, Ice shoots him a small smile.
Ron returns it and cranks up the Doors playing on the stereo. Knowing that it’s Ice’s favorite band and Ron will do anything to provide him some sort of comfort.
The days after Goose’s death were rough ones. None of the boys were the same, all of them in their heads with desolate looks on their faces. The death of Nick Bradshaw weighed heavy over them, the death of a friend they all made during the academy and one of their own.
But it was selfish to think that they were the ones being affected the most.
Ron knew, and he was positive that the rest of the pilots knew as well, Maverick was taking it the hardest and he may never recover after the death of his RIO.
Ron watched from the distance in these past few days, keeping his eyes locked on Maverick and Tom. Those two seemed to be affected the most. Tom out of regret, because it was his jetwash, his urgency, and his pride that caused the malfunction of Maverick’s plane.
Maverick probably felt responsible for the death of Goose.
Tom felt the same.
Ron wouldn’t know officially because Tom refused to talk to him about the matter. Constantly brushing him off with I’m fine and Ron called bullshit every time.
Ron understood the sudden hesitation when their wingman was close on a day’s hop. Understood the silence in the locker room. Understood the meaning of the aviators never leaving Iceman’s face. Ron understood the little shit that nobody else would ever understand.
But most importantly, he understood the lingering looks Tom would pay Maverick when he wasn't looking.
After days of seeing Tom just look , he knew that after this specific hop, Tom was going to say something.
It was the first time Maverick had been up in the air since Goose’s death and his RIO was sundown.
While Ron and Ice weren't up in the air with them, he was excited to see Maverick in the cockpit of his plane again. But Ron's father had always told him, “never count your chicken before they hatch” and well, he should've listened.
After the failed hop, the gossip spreading faster than a wildfire, Ron and Ice stood by their plane and watched as sundown was yelling at Maverick about god knows what. Just by the way Mav was keeping a steady pace, urgency, and agitation in his every step, Ron understood that he was close to a breakdown. The signs were there, the frustration of the hop, the emotions he must be feeling, and the overall situation in his life were all going to make him tip over the edge.
Ron watched as Maverick snapped and rounded on Sundown. Grabbing him by the collar of his flight suit and spitting words that Ron couldn’t hear into his face. Even from where Ron was standing he could see the frustration and the anger in his form.
Maverick picked up his discarded gear and stalked off once again, nobody stopping him.
Ron walked off towards the showers, catching Ice’s eye briefly and noticing the look behind the squinted eyes in the sun.
Ron just hoped Tom wouldn't make the situation worse with his emotional incompetence.
~~~~
A few hours later Ron had been stopped by Wolfman, “He quit.”
Ron didn't need to ask because he knew. He knew there was only one person weighed heavily by the event lately, only one person who would even think of quitting, despite how hungry he was for the title. But Ron could only guess that he wouldn't ever want the title without his best friend there. Ron can sympathize with him, because he would be the same way, not allowing himself to move on if he ever lost his best friend. But Ron knew that the level of Maverick and Goose’s relationship was on a whole different level.
Ron lightly shook his head in disbelief at the words spoken to him, but he thanked Wolfman for telling him.
Concrete with his decision, he hopped in his car and drove the small distance to Tom’s living assignment. Not caring if he beat him there or not, he just needed to be there. He was going to make Tom talk, to open up, because he actually cared and he wasn't going to see his best friend drown in his own head.
Once Ron arrived he noted that the driveway was empty, meaning Tom wasn't home yet. So, Ron grabbed the spare key from his glove compartment and made his way up the porch and into the house.
It wasn't long until Tom soon walked through the front door, looking detached and ruffled. His hair fluffier than usual for he probably worked out all the product when he ran his hand through the strands. His eyebrows furrowed, creating a pinch in the middle of his eyes and his lips were set in a hard line. When he made eye contact with Ron who was sitting on the couch lounging, his eyebrow raised in questioning.
Forgetting all greeting and politeness, Ron opened his mouth, “Mav quit.”
Ron watched as Tom ran a hand down his face and started to unbutton his shirt, revealing the white tee underneath. He untucked it from his pants and let it hang open. “Yeah, I know. He was in civvies and had packed up all his shit when I went in there.”
Ron cocked his head and bore his stare into Tom’s face since he was refusing to make eye contact, “Did you say anything to him?”
Tom raised his eyes until they met head-on with Ron’s stare, his face already falling into neutral territory and Ron wanted to scream at him to not put that damn wall up.
Tom shrugged, “You can say that.”
“What did you say, Tom?”
Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly at the use of his given name, already knowing what that meant.
“Nothing important.”
God damn him, he was making this harder than it needed to be. “ Tom.”
At the tone of his voice, the desperation and concern lacing his words, Tom ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit next to Ron on the couch. Tipping his head back until his throat was bare to the cool air of the room. Ron got an odd sense of deja vu for the last time they were on this couch having a heart-to-heart.
“You wanna know what I fucking said, Ron?”
Ron nodded.
“I called out to him. By his damn last name because at the sight of his blue jeans and white t shirt I knew he was no longer a pilot. Using his damn call sign would probably make him swing on me and I was already bearing my soul to his fucking back.”
Tom's voice was strained, trying to hold back but Ron knew he wouldn't. Not when it was him.
“I fucking told him that I was sorry about Goose. That everybody liked him . And I couldnt find anything else to say, anything that he may have wanted to hear so I said sorry again and got the fuck out of there.”
Ron scooted closer to Tom on the couch so that their arms were flushed together.
“I could have said so much. But I couldnt. I didnt know how to put the words together, I was afraid it was going to come out scrutinizing because he was quitting. Or that this was something that shouldn't be affecting him, so rather than making him feel more like shit I made a fool out of myself, letting so many things go unsaid.”
Ron let the silence roll for a few moments, seeing if there was anything else Tom wanted to say, but when he looked over at his comapnon he saw his thumb turning the academy ring on his finger. A nervous tick.
Ron took a deep breath, gather everything that was just said, and talked.
“Do you seriously think that anything you could've said wouldve made things worse?” Tom opened his mouth to speak but Ron continued, effectively shutting him up. “I know for a fact that at every waking moment that guy feels like shit and this his insides are eating him alive. We saw the altercation between him and sundown. We saw the look on his face all week. We know that poor guy is fucking suffering and nothing said or unsaid could change that.”
“But guess what Tom? He may not realize it but your words will lift some kind of pressure off him. You've been antagonizing him this entire time, not because you’re the villain, but because you care. Whether he sees that or not is up to him, but you were the first one to say something to him. Our fucking commanders are pressing to get him up in the air when he isn't ready. Nobody has taken how he feels into account. Nobody has said anything to him about what happened, we’ve all been pretending it's not there when it has all been hanging over us like a bad raincloud. You were the first. His supposed rival, his antagonizer, the first person to butt head with him was also the first person to say something. Was it small? Yes. but small can go a long way, Tom. “
“I've seen through you all this time Tom. All the snark and all the bite was just to disguise that you care about the guy. You don't want to see him hurt, you don't want to see him dead, and most importantly you don't want to see him as the shell of the man he is right now.”
“You like him tom. I dont know if you have caught on to that but you do. That's why you seek him out, that’s why you don't act cold to him, that's why you’re only snarky insults and advice disguised as calling him out. That mask you've built for yourself falls when you're face to face with him, its replaced with another mask but its one that's a little more open.”
Ron pulls the arm that is touching Tom’s and places it around his shoulders, bringing the smaller man into the side of his neck, “Don’t hate yourself for not saying enough, don't hate yourself becuase your speech was something other than perfect and don’t fucking hate yourself because that was our jet wash. But if you do then please let me be there, don’t block me out.”
Ron ended his speech, his arm tightening around Tom’s shoulders, his breath coming out a little more ragged. He let them lapse in silence, everything Ron had said came from his heart, came out of the love he has for the man he's clinging to.
His hold never loosened, even when he felt an arm snake up his back to grip his shoulder with a firm grip. He didn't loosen when he felt Tom tuck his chin into the crook of his neck. He didn't loosen when he felt a deep sigh come out of Tom. His hold never loosened and that was the reassurance Tom needed.
A few more long moments passed where they were just embracing each other and finally, Tom pulled away and straighentig out on the couch, making sure their arms were still touching.
“You know I hate you right.”
Ron snorts. Like hell he does.
“Hate you right back Tom.”
He watches as Tom cracks a smile and huffs out a small laugh. Tension no longer plaguing his form like it once was.
Tom stands up and asks if Ron wants pizza since they have the weekend off, to which Ron agrees. As he watches Tom put in the order, Ron desperately wants his walkman. To hear the twelve-bar blues of Led Zeppelin. To hear the wailing vocals of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page's heavily distorted crunch on the guitar. But as he looked at Tom and notices his skin having a little more color, looking a little bit more alive , Ron decides that no music could ever beat the sight of his best friend looking revived.
The remaining days flew by as fast as their jets went.
The competition was now nothing with Maverick out of the race, since they were collectively so far ahead of everybody else. Ron and Ice had managed to secure the TOPGUN title with ease, rightfully winning that trophy and all the benefits that came with it.
But somehow, despite the accomplishment they both felt, it didn't feel right.
There was no Maverick to rub it in, there were no jarring scorns traded between the two pairs fighting for the top, it felt like there was nothing.
No satisfaction in winning.
The entire ceremony, Ron had tried to keep an eye out for Maverick, hoping that he would maybe come to the graduation. But as the words of Viper and Jester trialed on and on , Ron knew that Maverick wasn't going to show his face.
That disappointed Ron.
Ice’s furrowed brows said the same.
It wasn't until celebrations had kicked off and drinks were getting passed around did their disappointment ran out.
Ron was the first to see the man, being a head taller than everybody else definitely had its perks. Ron watched the sea of people part before him, steadily making his way towards him and Ice. When he was close enough, Ron studied the guy before him. He looked much better than he did when they last saw each other and Ron couldnt be more glad. Mav showing up to the graduation at all displayed that he got some of his shit together. Not all, but some were a start.
Mav stuck out his hand towards Ice and looked him in the eye and said “Congratulations.” The words were a little reserved, body more than tense, but Ron wouldn't hold that against him. He saw the small smile that broke out on Ice’s face as he said thank you and it was a step forward.
The handshake, the fact that he said congrats at all, meant that Maverick was doing more than fine. Moving on but never forgetting.
While not shaking Ron’s hand may have been offensive to him at once, he didn’t mind it. Watching as he moved his way back through the crowd to most likely talk to the others instead of standing in awkward silence where Ron and Ice were.
Ron watched as Ice’s eyes followed the retreating back of Maverick, for the one-thousandth time that summer it seemed like, and snickered once he saw his eyes raking below his belt line.
Ron leaned closer to his ear, making sure that nobody near them would hear the oncoming words, “You wanna kiss him so bad it makes you look stupid.”
Ice quickly turned his head but Ron noticed the tiny blush covering the bridge of his nose. Ice was lucky because it could easily be disguised as being flushed from the heat.
Ice raises the glass to his lips but before he could drink the liquid he lets out a low threat, “Keep running that mouth Kerner, and I’m going to leave your ass stranded in the middle of the ocean.”
Ron lets out a brash laugh and slaps Ice on the back. Knowing damn well Ice would never.
Then Viper interrupted their fun and collectively made them all spiral again.
Ron let out a howl in the backseat of the jet, glad that he was alive, glad that Mav got his shit together, glad that he saved them, and more than glad that Mav had subconsciously proven himself to Ron.
While they were knocking on death’s door just a moment before, he felt as if he was on cloud nine. Making their way back to the ship, alive.
But Ron is going to get fucking shitfaced tonight becuase he belived he deserved it.
His ecstasy was momentarily broken when he heard Maverick get on the UHF and asked to deliver a message to Stinger, “Tell Stinger that Maverick has good news and bad news. The good news is that Iceman got a Mig. The bad news is that Maverick got two!’
His laugh sang throughout the coms and Ron laughed along with him, head in the clouds and so fucking happy that Mav was good.
When Ice spoke up, “Music to my ears, Maverick. Nice flying” Ron knew that the bastard was smiling under his mask. Feeling the same emotions that Ron was feeling but in a different way and a little bit more towards the man in the other jet.
Shit, Ron was pretty sure Iceman was in love with Maverick at this point, his flying and how he proved himself back there speaking for themselves.
Ron watched as Maverick threw his head back and once again his voice was heard throughout the coms, “We gotta have one.”
It took ice a few moments to click in his head what one meant, but meanwhile, Ron was vibrating in his seat like a little kid, more than happy to partake in a buzzing of the tower. He had always wanted to do but Ice is too by the rules for bullshit like that. He was silently praying that Ice would ay fuck it and allow Maverick to lead them in the act, them just about running on fumes going ignored.
“Mustang, this is Maverick. Request a flyby.”
Oh this was gonna be great. A victory lap.
Ron could only assume that the fuckers on the other side we're going crazy at the request, the response soon came in when the air boss got on the mike. “Ghost Rider, the pattern’s full.”
Like that would stop Maverick.
It wasn't until another small moment passed when Ice called in, “Mustang, this is Voodoo One. Request a flyby for two.”
Oh.
Oh.
Ron cackled because this was good shit. Ice was so whipped and he didn’t even know it.
Together they buzzed the tower, the laughs of Maverick and himself, while Merlin’s “Great balls of fire” and Iceman's silence all crackled over the comms. Nothing had felt better at that moment, they were alive, completing their first combat mission and going down as fucking legends.
When they landed on the carrier, they were immediately swarmed by crew members, cheering them on, chanting their names, and when they got off the plane they were bombarded with hugs, highfives and everything else. It felt good. Great, even.
After hugs went around between Wood and Wolf, Ice and Mav met in the middle. Amidst the crowd there the two of them stood and Slider didn't know what Ice was going to say when he called out Mav with a finger pointed at his chest and “You!” spoken loudly enough for all of them to hear it.
“You’re still dangerous” He heard his pilot say. Ice was still staring at Mav with that cold stare until it thawed out and a smile split his face in two, not shark-like, not taunting, not as the past smiles have been. This one was friendly and warm and Ron found himself smiling.
“You can be my wingman anytime.”
“Bullshit. You can be mine”
And Ron had to believe that at those words something clicked between them, for they met in the middle with a harsh hug. A hug that was driven by the mutual respect for one another and by the feelings they had, because there was no way Mav looks at Ice with all starry-eyed and dimpled smiles and not have some kind of feelings.
When they pulled apart it was Ron’s turn to get some hugs, so he rushed forward and caught Maverick by the mide of his torso and pulled him up to his level, effectively lifing mav’s feet of the ground, and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.
Mav had saved their lives right now– and call it motherly instinct– but something was gone bloom between Mav and Ice. Which Ron will be taking full credit for because he had to see his best friend effectively eye fuck the poor guy and disguise his feelings as something else.
It was traumitizing and he hopes he will not have to do it again.
As they made their way to take their gear off, Wood called out, “Drinks on me tonight!”
The rest was fucking history.
Which definitely had a page in the Guinness world record book for the amount of stupid shit they did that night.
Ron is coming back from collecting his mail, Rod Stewarts Do Ya Think I’m Sexy blasting into his ears while he walks with a pip in his step. If anybody were the see him, bobbing his head and swaying his hips to the music, he would kill them where they stand but until then.
He’s mindlessly filtering through the envelopes in his hand, one from mom, one from his recent girlfriend, and one from Ice.
Ron hadn't seen the asshole since the rescue of the US Layton, all of the boys went to the bar to celebrate their coming back safely. Ron was occupied most of the night, picking up challenges where he could with Wolfman and Hollywood but he didn't feel bad about mostly ignoring his best friend. That night, Ice was just as occupied as him. He was engulfed in Maverick the entire night, faces close, cheeks flushed from alcohol, and voices low. Everytime Ron looked over to the pair seemingly in their own world he felt like he was intruding so he kept himself occupied and away.
He was just fucking glad that those two turned a new leaf.
Ron could only take so much of Ice’s longing stares but once he looked close enough he could see those exact stares from Maverick, as well.
When Ron returned to his bunk he ripped open Ice’s letter first. He knew he decided to go back to TOPGUN as an instructor after 18 months in combat and he also knew that his wingman had been there since after Layton.
If anybody asks, not like anybody would, since you don't have friends. Don't ever tell them that I send you letters. That's horrible coming from me, I have a reputation to keep up, you know.
Don’t ever tell them what you’re about to read too.
I guess you can say I miss you, but in reality, I miss your music collection more.
Ron snorts, the bastard loved his Doors collection more than he loved him
Seriously, it’s not the same without you. We went from inseparable to thousands of miles away.
Sap.
But I guess I have company here in San Diego. Mitchell says hi by the way because he saw me writing this while on the clock and made sure he saw me writing his hellos. He’s a pain in the ass as ever, annoying, and so fucking reckless. But we’re unstoppable against the kids. They know they’re in trouble when they have both of us in the air.
It’s nice.
Anyways let me know when you’re in town, We can grab beers and I don’t want to hear you lost your touch, Slider.
Stay in touch.
not yours,
Tom
Ron laughs at the letter, folding it back up and ready to place it back into the envelope when he catches something else in the envelope.
It’s a polaroid. One of Ice specifically.
Ron looked closely at the picture. Ice was posted up at his desk, assumingly in his office, and based on the lighting that fills the picture, it’s early in the morning.
Ice is the center of the picture, elbows on the desk, one hand flipping the photographer and the other holding his chin with his head slightly tilted. The picture was taken far away, but close enough to catch the mirth in Ice’s eyes.
Ron knew that there was only one person that Ice would look at that like. And Ron knew that a certain somebody possessed a polaroid camera, a habit that he picked up from his best friend.
Ron smile despite the mushiness of the picture. His best friend’s love for the man behind the camera was shining so brightly that he wanted to gag.
He flipped the picture out of curiosity and was surprised to see writing on the back, looking like a 5th grader wrote it and so much worse than his own handwriting.
I snuck this in because I handle his mail. Hope you are doing well, Slider. Ice misses ya.
And thanks, for it all, but most importantly, for looking out for him.
-Mav
Ron smiled, nothing big, but small, secret.
Nobody was good enough for his best friend. But every time he was in the same vicinity as Ice and Maverick, he believed that nobody would be better for him. The side of Ice that Ron saw came out around Maverick. The total opposite of cold. Warmth. Iceman smiled more, not shark-like but still showcasing his smile lines, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. His posture was less stiff, relaxed and maybe even a little slouched. But most importantly, Maverick kept iceman on his toes, never a dull moment with Mav, and Ron believed that Iceman loved every minute of it.
Ron was happy.
So fucking happy for his pilot, his best friend.
Tom met his match, the complete opposite of him but the one that makes him whole.
He witnessed it all, but he can’t wait to tell his future nephews/nieces the disgusting pining he saw from Ice, just to humiliate him, just because he has the privilege to.
Ron whips out a new piece of lined paper, grabs a pen, lifts his headphones over his ears, presses play on his Walkman, and lets Jim Morrison’s voice soothe his thoughts enough to put the words he wants on paper.
You don't have to lie you dickhead, I know you miss me, And I miss you just as much, Tom.