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Tom’s day had started relatively normally, apart from the fact that he’d gotten to work a bit later than usual. Then again, he was Eolios’s big boss, so he could come and go as he literally pleased.
He’d dumped a good chunk of work in Seresin’s arms, and was looking forward to a simple day, that is, until his old Navy pal Slider decided to pop in for a bit.
He hadn’t seen Kerner in about two years, and alright, he was looking forward to the banter, friendly talk and joy that would result from this visit. Slider had always been able to make him laugh, even in the darkest of times.
They talked for hours, secluded in Tom’s huge office, while his employees bled just to please him.
There was something contenting in knowing he had power over eager kids.
That was also why he pushed his P.A. so much.
Jake Seresin might have come into Eolios without any expectations other than a well-paid job, but Tom Kazansky had seen the boy’s potential as soon as he commented on one of last year’s models, and the older man had decided to groom the younger into more than just an assistant.
Not that he ever told the kid he was fond of him.
He had a reputation to uphold.
It was funny how his young goons had collectively decided to nickname him Iceman – of course he knew about that, he wasn’t stupid – when it had been his callsign back when he could still fly.
Good times.
At around 1pm, Ice stood from his seat and led Slider to the door. “What about some lunch?”
Kerner’s big eyes glinted with glee as he understood the day wasn’t over for them. “Yeah, man. Of course! Le Bourbon’s?”
“Sure! It’s been an age!” Then Ice thought for a beat. “Mind if we take my assistant with? He deserves a bit of time off for putting up with me.”
“Ah,” Slider grinned, wrapping an arm around his old friend. “Adopted a stray, have you?”
“Shut up, you buffoon.”
They exited the office, still ginning like loons, and Tom turned to Jake, who was slumped at his desk, a pencil between his lips, pouring over the papers he’d given him that morning.
He was unsurprised, but happy, to see that the kid had already gone through a steady portion of those papers. Quicker than most would have. And Tom trusted his study would be exactly what he needed to get this new model on tracks.
So, he clapped the other blonde on the shoulder, making him jump slightly. Those green eyes of his lifted to meet his boss’s, and Ice smiled. “Seresin, we’re going out for lunch. Come with us, son.”
Jake looked so stunned he gaped and the pencil dropped from his mouth. Tom found it endearing. He liked having this sort of effect on people, the awe and respect that came with whom he’d built himself to be.
After throwing his reading glasses back on the desk and grabbing his jacket, the kid stood from his chair, stuttering “Of course, thanks, Sir.”
Ice turned back to Slider, trusting his dazed P.A. to follow them to the elevator.
Letting the kid further into his life, even if he didn’t realise it yet.
They’d reached the lobby when the day had to go to shit. At least, partially.
Because when they got of the elevator, Tom felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he knew who he’d cross paths with seconds before it happened.
Pete Mitchell. The Maverick himself.
The man he’d fallen head over heels in love with twenty-seven years prior; and who’d broken his heart, no, destroyed his heart, eight years after that.
The man he’d never really gotten over, and who of course had to rent a floor in the same building as him.
Their companies had coexisted in this part of the city for about twelve years by then, and of course they’d caught sight of each other now and then, but Tom always fucked off in the opposite direction whenever he saw the other man; when Maverick himself didn’t literally run away upon seeing him.
But today was different.
Those green eyes, hidden behind his usual aviators – the pair Tom had gifted him for his 35th birthday, no less – had settled on him, and Pete’d frozen in place, a tall, curly-haired boy standing nearby, probably his own P.A.
If Slider hadn’t been there, Ice would have probably turned back the way he’d come. But with his best friend by his side, he had to keep face.
So he ‘simply’ glared at Pete, and uttered that word that used to mean so much and that was now laced with contempt. “Mitchell.”
Slider, always the traitor, mimicked him, but he was much warmer than Ice had been. And yet, Kerner had been there to pick up the pieces when Maverick had shattered his life in tiny morsels.
The fucker removed his glasses, after the shock had passed, and painted one of those infuriating smirks on his face. Even in his fifties, Mav looked handsome as all hell. Tom hated him for it. “Kazansky. Kerner. Up to no good, are you?”
He had the gall to lace some of that old charm into his words, as if all of that hadn’t gone up in flames ages prior. As if nothing had changed between them. As if they were still fresh-faced pilots, rivals who also happened to have incredible chemistry on the ground as well.
Ice tried to push those thoughts aside.
That ship had sailed long ago, and the shipwreck had been…crushing.
Slider bumped into his shoulder with a mocking sigh. “We’re gonna be late for lunch, dude. And I’ve forgotten how to deal with this one’s antics.” Mav smirked wider, but Ice couldn’t move a muscle.
So much had changed, and yet so little.
When he looked into those green eyes, he couldn’t still see the man he’d fallen so helplessly in love with. There were a few more lines on his face, but he looked incredible still, and he had kept the glasses. Maybe he’d kept the motorbike too, and the jacket. Perhaps he’d also kept Tom’s wings, when he’d gifted them to him when it was made clear he couldn’t sit in a cockpit anymore.
Perhaps, or most certainly, he’d kept a piece of Thomas Kazansky with him all this time.
But he couldn’t afford to fall back into this, into Pete. Not after all this time, when they’d changed and become different men, strangers. He couldn’t risk his heart again.
He was grateful for Ron to actually pull him away and out the door.
He needed to be reminded this wasn’t a good idea.
A few days later, Tom found himself at the Aerial East Coast Show to present one of his latest plane models himself.
Usually, he let one of his comm managers do the job at conventions or public events like this one, but Seresin had been very convincing and had managed to sway his boss into doing this himself. Plus, Connecticut wasn’t that far, or that bad, to be honest.
He knew the kid wanted to impress that stupid boyfriend of his, the firefighter. From the moment his P.A. had started dating the dude, Tom had seen the red flags and known that he wasn’t the right person for the blonde spitfire who was at his beck and call.
‘Billy’, as was his name, was a conceited asshole. Tom had been witness to many aborted texts from Seresin, the disappointment clear on the young man’s face whenever his boy cancelled a date or just didn’t share in his enthusiasm.
But Kazansky knew he couldn’t really give advice when it came to his assistant’s love life. First of all, because his own was a shit show and a dry desert – had been since a fateful breakup a long time ago. And second of all, because he wasn’t Seresin’s dad, however hard it was, some days, to convince himself of that fact.
So, instead of breaking Jake’s spirits, he’d spent some time with the kid trying to find out what ‘Billy’ would like to see or do at the show. Stalls that could appeal to a self-centred fireman.
Tom had appreciated that time off work, to get to know the young man whom he’d inadvertently taken under his wing.
He could still see the awe in Seresin’s eyes whenever they spent time together and spoke of something else than their jobs. Tom felt elated to evoke this kind of respect and admiration in the younger generation, and at the same time, he wished he didn’t have this cold aura around him when he was in the presence of his assistant. Wished Jake could be comfortable around his boss. Comfortable enough to listen to his advice, dump fucking Billy, and actually apply for a promotion.
Jake Seresin could do it all.
If Tom Kazansky had anything to do with it, one day, he might even become the new CEO of Eolios.
As it were, they’d been waiting for about half an hour at the entrance to the show, waiting for Jake’s moronic fireman to show up. The young blonde was glued to his phone, but apparently had yet to receive an answer as to whether Billy was showing up or not.
Sadly, Tom could already foresee that the douche was not, actually, coming.
He quickly went over a plan to cheer his assistant up – perhaps he could pay for a flight lesson, he was quite convinced Jake would love to fly, and he himself couldn’t take him up in the air…anymore.
“Well lookie here…”
Oh God no.
Ice raised his gaze and watched as Pete Bloody Mitchell and the tall hunky kid that followed him around appeared out of nowhere and made their way to him and Seresin.
He’d wished for a simple day out in the sun, and the bane of his freaking existence had chosen otherwise…
Mav was wearing his aviators, as usual, looking over them with his piercing and mischievous green eyes. Tom had to swallow a lump of something that dangerously resembled desire when he caught sight of what else he was wearing – a pair of jeans, a black tee, and the leather jacket Ice had gifted him an age prior.
He looked so good it was unfair.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Mav said, coming to a stop in front of him.
Tom mustered all the anger he still felt for the other man – and it was a lot – and glared at him. “Mitchell.” Then, turning to Jake to hopefully dismiss his ex, he added “Seresin, I think it’s time to attend to our business.”
The blonde, who’d been watching Mitchell’s companion, immediately nodded. “Of course, Sir.”
Tom was ready to turn on his heels and leave them behind, but the tall brown-haired man who’d come with Mav – and who was apparently fond of Hawaiian shirts – interrupted his planned retreat with a “Oh, what are you here for? Anything interesting? Maybe we could tag along!”
He looked at the kid.
Under that old-fashioned moustache that strangely fit him quite well, the brunette was smiling almost too-innocently. But his brown eyes kept fleeting to Jake over Ice’s shoulder, and suddenly, he wasn’t too mad about Mitchell following him around.
Not if this young man – who had to be Mav’s own P.A. – could make Jake smile.
So he indulged him, and let the two kids tag along as he started explaining his job and answering the moustached child’s eager questions.
He almost forgot about Pete trailing after them like a faithful puppy.
Almost.
For all that he hadn’t presided over a presentation himself in literal years, Ice knew he was good at his job. Knew he had a charismatic presence that kept people’s attention; knew that his voice somewhat demanded to be listened to; knew what to do to advertise his babies in the best possible way.
He realised as he started demonstrating today’s model that he’d missed this.
Having a crowd – albeit a moderate-sized one – drinking in his words.
Having Pete Mitchell stare at him as if he’d hung the moon and stars…
Although this last thought came rather uninvited, and he decided to avoid looking in the other man’s direction as much as he could.
Or he would have successfully avoided looking in his direction if the brown-haired kid – whose name he really needed to learn soon – hadn’t started laughing, a full-belly one that attracted everyone’s eyes onto him – and Jake, who’d apparently elicited that reaction in him. He glared at the kids and their obvious connection, and glared at the man whom he’d shared his heart with so long ago, before going back to his presentation.
After he was done, Tom was rather pleased to notice a few interested parties waiting for him at the bottom of the stage. He indulged them, answered further technical and financial questions, offering his business card with a promise to get a proper meeting at Eolios if they ever settled a date with his P.A.
Speaking of which, when he was done, he joined Jake and his two impromptu – and annoying, in one’s case – guests, and received a coffee for his efforts. He was glad to notice it was his favourite mix of caramel latte and almond milk – he was surprised that Jake had remembered this particular favourite combination of his, since he’d mentioned it once before – and sipped on it joyfully, forgetting for a bit who was standing right next to him.
Their group of four made their merry way through the base’s grounds, sometimes stopping at one stall or other, but never for long.
Despite wanting to hate it, Tom found Mav’s expected glee when they reached a model-plane vendor stall absolutely adorable.
The man hadn’t changed. Anything resembling his favoured aircraft – the P-51 – had to be part of his extensive collection at one point. And on cue, he bought one tiny wooden model and handed it to his P.A. – whose name was still a mystery.
Tom noticed that Jake and this tall brown-haired man had surprisingly natural chemistry, something he hadn’t seen since…well, since him and Pete. The younger men bantered easily, took interest in each other’s likes and dislikes, and seemed to get along just amazingly.
And yet, Jake was dating a total asshole…
They’d reached the edge of the base’s runway, and headed to a hangar where a very familiar plane was waiting for Mitchell.
His old P-51 Mustang. His pride and joy.
He’d actually bought it when they’d still been dating; and Tom had spent many a night lamenting over the fact that the man he was in love with was obviously more in love with his damn plane. Because Mav had spent more time fixing this old shit than accepting Tom’s offers for proper dates.
So after a while, Tom had simply accompanied him to his old Californian hangar, and helped tinker with the plane himself. When he wasn’t trying – and succeeding – to seduce Pete into having some sort of sexual encounter in the tiny cockpit.
It quickly appeared that the green-eyed man in question remembered those blessed times too, if the glint in his eyes was any indication as he turned to Ice and asked “Want to go for a spin?” as he stared him down like he was a predator stalking prey.
Tom felt a dangerous spike of desire. Once upon a time, this had been their whole thing. They’d get into the air together – either in the same plane or in different ones – and once they were back on the ground, their clothes were ripped off embarrassingly quickly. They’d been lucky that Mav had been renting that hangar in the middle of nowhere, because they’d have been arrested for public indecency far too many times.
He shook his head, memories of a better time battling with the reminder that it was all over. “Go. Do your thing.”
Pete smirked at him still and pushed his glasses onto his nose once again. “Watch and learn, Kazansky,” he said before nodding at his P.A. and turning to head to the plane. He chucked off his leather jacket and climbed into the cockpit with an ease that Tom envied immediately.
He could never do that again… Not without experiencing very unpleasant pain and possibly needing to be pushed around in a wheelchair, all just for a few minutes in the air…
He was envious as hell…
“I’m sorry for asking, Sir, but do you and Mitchell know each other?”
Ice looked over at Jake, who seemed to expect a thorough chew out for simply being curious. He didn’t mind the question. He’d been stewing in old resentment and older feelings all day, after all… “Yes, we do. We’ve known each other for…thirty years, give or take. Unfortunately for my sanity.”
He noticed how both younger men tensed at those words. Obviously, they hadn’t expected their acquaintance to have been such a deal.
Tom was unwilling to share more on the subject, however, and was glad to hear the Mustang whirring to life and drowning any more possibility for conversation.
At least for a while.
The green-eyed beast called Jealousy rose in Ice’s chest as soon as Maverick started with his usual acrobatics.
The P-51 flew around, free of constraints, free of gravity, steered on expertly by its pilot. There was the usual mix of genius and absolute lunacy in Mitchell’s flying; it made Tom’s heart constrict in a longing so strong he had to school his features, to make sure it wasn’t transparent on his face.
He crossed his arms in a vain attempt to shield himself from the onslaught of memories that threatened to rise to the surface, of moments like these when he’d been up there with Mav; or when he’d been on the ground watching as his partner defied Death itself by ‘testing’ out a barely functioning airplane.
He saw the stunt coming a mile away when Mav dived towards the ground and pulled up late enough that a gush of wind ran through the public and knocked some of them off balance.
He remained put, standing his ground and using what little core strength he still had left – he couldn’t exercise as much as he used to, not with his bad back – and watched with a fond smile as Mitchell’s P.A. helped Seresin to his feet.
The younger blonde looked awed, like a kid in a sweets shop, watching a plane doing loops and dives over his head.
Tom was endeared to him even more than he already was.
It was as Pete hung from the frame of the inverted Mustang – a favourite of his and Tom’s, unfortunately – that the brown-haired hunk of a man turned to him and clocked his unimpressed look. “Already seen him fly, Sir?”
Looking at those brown-eyes, Ice nodded. “I have. He hasn’t changed one bit. Still a show-off.” He managed to keep the annoyed fondness out of his words, but only just.
“You can’t deny that he’s a genius, though, Sir,” Jake added, eyes still wide as a puppy as the plane slowly landed.
Tom was amused by his enthusiasm, but suddenly felt a rush of misplaced pride. That Seresin thought Mitchell was the best pilot he’d ever seen was logical, after all, he had never seen him fly before; but the Iceman had been a legend in the skies, and he suddenly wanted to make that very clear. “I’ve flown better than that in my day.”
Both kids looked surprised to hear he was a pilot as well, and he felt smug for a moment.
Even if he couldn’t get into that Mustang himself to just show them how much better he was than Maverick, he had a reputation to uphold.
He’d won Top Gun, after all.
And Mav decidedly hadn’t.
It was only a moment later that this relatively pleasant moment was shattered, when a curly-haired young man ran out of the hangar to their right and waved in their direction, shouting ‘Bradley! Come over here!’ until the brown-haired moustached stranger acknowledged the call.
Tom froze.
Bradley.
It couldn’t be a coincidence, that Maverick’s P.A. bore the same damn name than the godson he’d never had the privilege to meet.
Whose existence had been partly the reason why Pete Mitchell had broken Tom Kazansky’s heart all those years prior.
He froze, and turned to the man, frowning, heart breaking once again in tiny morsels. “Bradley? You’re Bradley?!”
The man – Bradshaw, then – frowned and nodded. “Yes, Sir, I am.”
Crack. Well, that was that. Memories of that time he’d found himself heartbroken and weeping on his bedroom floor came rushing at him as his heart definitely broke again. Tom made sure nothing could be seen on his face, and looked over at Jake. “Let’s go, Seresin. We’ve gotten what we wanted. If we get back early enough, we can get some work done.”
Deflecting with work, as he’d done many times since that day, felt grounding even as he walked away from Pete Mitchell, his godson, and the life they might have had if…
If…
About ten days later, Tom had forgotten all about Bradley and his infuriating godfather. Well, all, not exactly. He’d buried himself in work, had spent so many hours in his office he could close his eyes and paint it by memory, and had avoided leaving the building at any time that could result in a chance meeting in the lobby.
He’d reacted absolutely perfectly reasonably.
He’d also been very pleased to learn one morning that Seresin and his asshole of a boyfriend had finally ended things. He’d been about to stage an intervention when the younger blonde had been talking non-stop about a date at a posh restaurant for days before said date actually happened. He’d overheard him tell Floyd though that ‘Billy’ had broken up with him.
And as delighted as he was at the news, Tom wasn’t icy enough not to commiserate with a broken heart, so he’d sent him home earlier than he’d planned; and popped a salted-caramel cupcake on his desk the following morning.
Jake didn’t know where it came from, but it put a smile on his face.
Mission accomplished.
In spite of the good news, though, Tom wasn’t quite ready to let his P.A. get closer to Maverick’s godson yet. He’d witnessed their natural chemistry at the Aerial Show, and knew that there was something there to perhaps look into; but the discovery that this young man was in fact the Bradley had somehow left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Not that Bradley was in any way responsible for his and Mav’s breakup at all. But his very presence in Jake’s life stirred painful memories all the same, and Tom wasn’t ready to face those memories quite yet.
Even if Fate had a different plan that particular day…
He was heading out to spend part of the day with Slider – who’d decided to hang around more regularly and with whom Ice had set up a few meet-ups in the upcoming months – Jake high on his heels as usual.
“And don’t forget to look over those plans while I’m gone,” he was instructing, referring to yet another set of designs he wanted Jake to go through. “I want to be able to go to Builds tomorrow.” That wasn’t entirely true. He did want to go to Builds the following day with his newest idea; but he’d actually already gone through all those plans and just wanted to check if Jake would be as thorough as him when doing the same thing.
Grooming the young man, in a roundabout and stealthy way, to one day take his place.
Seresin nodded in a frantic way. He looked out of it, and Tom had no idea why. “Yes, of course Sir, it’ll be done.”
A bit worried about the reason for his fidgeting, Tom clapped a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I know it will, Seresin.” They’d reached the elevator, and so he called it to their level, letting his P.A. go back to work. “See you later.”
Jake grinned – dimples in full show – before taking his cue to leave. “Have a great day, Sir.”
Somehow, Tom felt suspicious, now…
When the first out of two cabins reached his floor and the doors slid open, he had to groan and quietly swear. The entire thing was filled from top to bottom by FedEx boxes. He knew that one of the other businesses in the building received regular deliveries in important amounts, but never this early. Just his luck.
He let this one go, pressing the button to call for the second lift.
When it reached him, he swore again, but for an entirely different reason.
Mitchell was in it.
His green eyes widened when he saw Tom, but he simply moved further from the doors to let him in. In an instant, the blonde felt boxed in.
Trapped.
“Morning, Tom.”
Ice barely looked over, but pursed his lips. “Morning.”
Apparently, his luck had completely run out for the day, because he counted thirty-seven seconds before the cabin rattled, stuttered and stopped between two levels, the screen blinking and an alarm chiming twice before power shut down and an emergency light blinked on overhead.
Tom cursed again. “Fuck this.” He finally looked over at the other man, adding “Just my luck, getting trapped in here with you.”
Maverick crossed his arms and leaned on the side of the cabin, looking far too entertained. “Don’t lie, you’re secretly thrilled.”
Secretly planning his demise, more like. Tom whirled around to face him and crossed his arms too. “I don’t see how spending time in the same room as you for more than two seconds could be thrilling, Mitchell.”
The other man groaned. “Come on, Tom. I get that I fucked things up back then, but can’t we at least be civil?”
The nerve of this man.
Breaking his heart into tiny pieces and then acting as if it’d been nothing. As if time had healed anything.
“Believe me,” he said, glacial, “this is me being civil. Otherwise, you’d already have a broken nose and black eye.”
Mav sighed, but remained silent for a bit.
Small favours…
For another couple of minutes, Tom willed the elevator to switch back online and free him from this hell hole, but of course, it didn’t listen, and the gloomy emergency light continued blinking above their heads.
To add insult to injury, there wasn’t a smidge of signal to use to call someone for help.
And standing in the same upright position, tense as a rubber band, had the old wound acting up in Tom’s back, forcing him after a while to sit down on the cold metal floor to relieve his spine for a bit.
“What are you doing?” Pete asked, tenser than he’d been a moment earlier.
Tom sighed. “If I’m trapped here with you for the foreseeable future, I don’t see why I should suffer twice for it.” Because those green eyes looked slightly worried, he explained “My back is killing me.”
Mav dropped to the floor in a second, faster than his age should suggest. He sat facing him, and their booted feet touched. “Same old?”
Tom sighed again, nodding slowly. “It never fully healed.”
Pete had been there, after all, when his old F-14 had acted up, forcing him to eject and to crash into the side of a cliff, nearly severing his own spine in the process. Years of physical therapy hadn’t been enough to restore his back to what it once had been, and he’d been forced to give up his wings.
Pete had been there for all of it.
Three months after Tom’s release from the Navy, Mitchell walked out of his life.
Apparently, the mention of Ice’s injury made the same painful shared memories rise to the surface, because Mav spoke up after a bit, looking like someone had kicked him in the shins. “I never apologized. Not truly.”
Crossing his arms again, perhaps to shield his heart once more, Tom answered. “No, you never did.”
“I am, though. Sorry. For everything.”
Another deep sigh. Tom raised a hand to rub at his temples, the beginning of a stress headache letting itself known. He didn’t want to do this now. Didn’t want to do this any time, actually.
This was done and over with.
He’d moved on.
Or at least, he’d convinced himself he’d moved on.
“We were together for five years, Pete. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover the importance of what you did.”
A beat. Two.
“I know I fucked up. Big time. But I regret it. All of it. Believe me, please.”
Somehow, Tom did. Believe him. Believe he was sorry to have wrecked their almost idyllic life together. But that was Pete Mitchell in a nutshell: when he had something good, he sabotaged it. Once upon a time, Tom had been able to stop him before he undid it all. But not that time.
“Why didn’t you want me to meet Bradley, Mav? Why?” That was what had rubbed at him the longest. The fact that the man he’d been so madly in love with, ready to move in with, ready to commit to, had adamantly refused to introduce him to the boy that was now his ward, his son in all but name. For years, he refused, until that day, when he decided that Tom wanting to meet the eleven-year-old was a way to control his life, a manipulation, a thing of evil. And he’d walked out, never to come back again.
Just like that.
In front of him, Pete brought his knees up and leaned his head on them, as if hiding from this whole conversation, even though he’d started it in the first place. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I was scared it was going to mean something.”
“Like what?” Tom asked gently. He knew this man. Knew how stupid he could be, sometimes, when something freaked him out.
Heck, he’d tried running Tom over with his Jeep back in the day when Tom had been standing in his driveway with a bouquet of flowers, ready for their first date…
“You meeting my godson, my kid, would have made it all too real…”
“Pete,” Ice said, voice far too soft to his liking, “we’d been together five years. We were talking about moving in together. Having a fucking dog.” They’d fought over which breed, what name, only to have amazing make-up sex right after.
“I wasn’t ready, I think. To believe it was real and not something temporary; that you weren’t going to get tired of me.”
Hissing in a breath, Tom asked “Is that why you left without saying goodbye?”
Mav’s head snapped up. He looked wrecked – it resonated too much with how Tom felt himself that it almost broke his resolve to be mad – and he stumbled up onto his knees, not once complaining about the hard and cold floor as he crawled up to him and placed a gentle hand on his thigh. “I was the worst asshole in the Universe for leaving you that day, Tom. I’ve regretted it every day since. But-“ he trailed off.
“But what, dickhead?”
A hint of a smile painted itself on Mav’s face, making Ice’s heart melt just a little bit. “But I thought, with your insanely good looks and brilliant brain, you’d have no problems moving on and finding someone more worthy of you.”
This idiot. Tom couldn’t help himself. He slapped him upside the head. “You are the stupidest fucker I’ve ever met, Pete Mitchell. You were the love of my fucking life, how could I ever move on?”
It was when those green eyes widened in surprise that the gravity of what he’d just said struck Tom in the face and chest.
He’d meant every word, but what good would it do, to just ruminate all of this again?
Yet, Pete had apologized. Had looked genuinely heartbroken about what had happened nearly twenty years prior…
Was he willing to forgive?
A hand gently took his own, tender despite the calluses. “Were?”
Of course this moron would get caught up on that. “It’s been almost twenty years, Mav. We’re not the same men we were.”
“Then what do you say to getting to know each other now? See if I still am, the love of your life? ‘Cause I think you’re definitely still mine, baby.”
This absolute motherfucker.
He’d casually dropped this, like he did everything else: nonchalantly but with a following detonation that could raze an entire continent to the ground.
He stared at their entwined hands, and pondered the offer.
Would he be willing to trust this man with his heart again? Would he be willing to take the risk to get hurt in that way again?
Looking at Pete Mitchell, staring into those fucking green eyes, Tom Kazansky knew that he would be risking his all for this to work out.
So he sighed, and squeezed Pete’s hand. “I’m willing to give you a chance. But I can’t promise that it’ll be easy to forget, let alone to forgive.”
“I’ll take whatever you want to give me, baby.”
The fucking pet name made his heart do a little somersault, and by the way Pete smirked, he knew it, too, the bastard.
He was about to comment on it – or perhaps tell the other man how infuriating he was – when the emergency light shut off, only for the elevator to switch back and resume its descent.
Once again, Tom was suspicious, but didn’t think too much of it as Mav helped him to his feet with a gentle hand on his waist.
They were freed into the lobby a few moments later. A group of people were gathered in front of the lifts, either waiting for it to come down, or worried about the two men who’d gotten trapped in it for who-knew-how-long. Tom passed them all with a haughty look, Pete on his heels.
He quickly clocked Slider standing near the concierge desk – suspiciously empty, which meant that Hondo was up to no good somewhere else – but didn’t have time to walk to his friend before Mav’s P.A. – Mav’s godson – reached them, a glint of something that definitely wasn’t worry in his brown eyes.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” he asked his godfather, putting too much emphasis on some words for it to be truthful. Again, Tom felt suspicious.
But Pete, as always oblivious to what was right in front of him – that hadn’t changed – merely smiled and clapped the overgrown child on the back, offering him his typical grin. “I’m fine, kiddo.”
Tom could see Jake hovering at the periphery of his vision, but didn’t give him the opportunity to come and play the perfect little worried assistant. He turned to the other two men, asking “What were your plans today, Pete?” instead.
He noticed a few surprised looks from people around them – people who’d been around this building long enough to know that there was beef between him and Mitchell, but he ignored it in favour of watching Pete smile. “I was gonna go to the hangar for some tinkering.”
“Would you mind putting a rain-check on that? Slider and I were heading out. Join us?” As a quick afterthought, he added “Both of you?”, which made Bradley’s eyes widen in surprise.
Those brown eyes remained wide as saucers even as the kid nodded. “Yeah, alright, thanks.”
Slider, who’d crept up on them – as was a habit of his – then wrapped an arm around Mav’s shoulders to give him a noogie, as if they still were twenty-somethings in a locker room. “Good to have you back, shortie.”
Tom tried to stop the amused smirk that tilted his lips even as he clocked Mav’s fake annoyance. “Shut up, Slider,” the shorter man said, trying to free himself of Kerner’s embrace, to no avail, since he wasn’t trying too hard.
When Tom turned to notice Jake still standing awkwardly a bit to the side, he walked to the kid. Part of him was sorry to leave him out of this, but he wanted to get to know Bradley better; and he had a suspicion he wouldn’t be able to do that if Jake was there to steal away the young Bradshaw’s attention.
He touched the kid’s arm, surprised to see him startle. Then again, Jake had been looking at Slider and Maverick with a look close to envy on his face, so that wasn’t too surprising.
“Don’t forget those files, Jake.”
The younger blonde cleared his throat, straightened his stance, and nodded. “Have a nice day, Sir.”
“I intend to.” He patted the boy’s arm again to stop himself from apologizing for leaving him behind, and he walked back to the group waiting for him.
Bradley was still staring at him weirdly, as if unsure how to talk to him. If it had been purely out of curiosity considering his reaction back at the Aerial Show, he wouldn’t have looked so…stunned? It brought fresher suspicions to Tom’s mind. And he intended to get to the bottom of this by the end of the day.
“So, Bradley, how has it been, playing assistant to Maverick?”
Another moment of stunned insecurity later, the taller man smiled a bit. “It’s been hell, Sir.”
Tom clapped him on the back even as they headed to Slider’s car – he would no doubt get a ticket, since it’d been parked there far longer than originally scheduled – before smiling too. “Call me Ice. Everyone does.”
Bradley’s eyes widened once again, but he nodded. “Alright. Ice.”
Contented for now, Tom gestured the kid and Pete to sit in the back, while he rode shotgun with Slider driving.
“Where to, Kerns?” Pete asked after being forced to buckle up by his godson. Same old reckless little bastard.
Slider chuckled. “Don’t lose your shit, shortie, but we’re actually doing grown men stuff, today.”
“Fuck off,” the green-eyed idiot fired back before tilting his head to look at Tom. “Since you are by far the most mature in this car, darling, care to enlighten me on today’s program?”
Tom tilted his head back too, to smirk at this man who’d changed and yet hadn’t at all. “What if I told you even I don’t know, pumpkin?”
Mav’s eyes flashed with mischief, his patented smirk making a devastating comeback. “I wouldn’t believe you, sugar.”
“Too bad, honey blossom, ‘cause it’s the truth. I actually don’t know what the big bad Kerner has got in store.”
“I’m disappointed in you, bubble cheeks.”
Tom noticed how Bradley had been no-so-subtly texting throughout the exchange, smiling to himself with an almost bashful look on his face, but didn’t comment on it. Simply filed it in.
Slider groaned a moment later. “Not gonna lie, guys, I hadn’t missed this weird foreplay of yours.”
“Don’t be jealous, Kerns. I can flirt with you too, if you want,” Mav said, sneaking a hand to their driver’s shoulder.
All three burst into laughter, soon joined by a slightly confused Bradley.
Their first stop was an old military base that had been transformed into a historical kind of golf course. Slider and Ice were both avid golf players, but Pete hated it. That hadn’t changed either in the time they’d been apart.
Surprisingly enough, though, Bradley loved the sport, and had a mean swing. He was close to winning the whole thing, before Slider got his shit together and showed the kid how things were done.
Tom was alright with third place. He’d spent more time correcting Pete’s awful stance and helping him getting his ball out of sandpits and ponds than concentrating on his own performance, anyway.
It was kind of thrilling, to be able to touch Pete Mitchell again. If only to tilt his hips back or hand him his club back, fingers brushing and cheeks flushing as if they were still fresh-faced Navy pilots.
His old wound acting up, he had to sit down for most of the run; but Mav stayed with him, and they talked. God, did they talk. To reminisce about their time together, but also and mostly to share memories of times apart but moments that had significance all the same. Tom creating Eolios. Mav moving to New-York and finding it appalling at first. Bradley turning twenty-five, older than his parents had been when they died in the car crash. Slider retiring from the Navy and buying the biggest mansion Jersey could offer.
It was nice.
It was…kind of…soothing.
As if closing the gaping hole that had taken residence in his chest for so long.
When they went back to the car to go for lunch back in the city, Pete held Tom’s door open for him, and his heart jumped a bit again.
This was mending.
Far too quickly.
He knew he had to protect his heart from this. But he couldn’t deny that it felt just amazing. To perhaps fall back in love.
Lunch was a nice and joyful affair. Slider drove them to an eighties diner where they had burgers dripping with too much sauce and grease to be healthy; and Bradley shared that his obsession with Hawaiian shirts, moustaches and 80s music came from his father, Nick, but also from personal preference.
(If Tom let it slip that Jake liked 80s rock as well, well, it was absolutely innocent on his part.)
In the afternoon, they headed to a vintage open-air market in Queens. The ambiance was genuinely heartwarming, and after buying an old turntable Tom wanted to fix and offer Bradley for Christmas, maybe – he wasn’t getting ahead of himself – Pete grabbed his hand and laced their fingers while pointedly looking ahead.
Tom smiled, and squeezed their joined hands, stepping a bit closer to the other man.
Bradley seemed to get along with Slider pretty well, and he bought a few trinkets himself. Tom noticed the fancy tie with music notes that he got for a measly 1$, and knew for a fact that he’d see it around Jake’s neck one of these days. The younger blonde loved weird ties.
He was slowly but surely connecting dots in his mind, and couldn’t wait to share his findings with Pete when they got to dinner that night.
At around 5:30, Bradley checked his phone and turned to the other three men, biting his lip as if afraid to voice what was urgent. “Uh…I’m sorry, I’ve…gotta dash. Is that okay?”
Mav looked at his godson, brow furrowing under his aviators’ frame. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, just…” He sighed. “I’ve got a thing tonight. With a colleague.”
“A date?” Mav asked immediately, grinning and stepping closer to the taller man as if ready to congratulate him.
Bradley shook his head, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. “No, no, not a date. But I can’t cancel.”
Tom narrowed his eyes just as Mav chuckled and nodded. “Alright, kid, have fun. See you in the morning.”
After saying his goodbyes, the tall brunette nearly ran away towards the nearest subway station.
Slider snorted after the kid had disappeared from view. “Definitely a date.”
Pete laughed, slipping his hand back into Tom’s. “And he thinks I’m oblivious as fuck.”
“Alright, guys,” Slider said right after, clapping his hands together. “I know you want to get a fucking candlelit dinner and all, but can we get a drink before that? For old times’ sake?”
Mav smirked. “Only if I can beat your ass at pool, for old times’ sake.”
Tom rolled his eyes, and followed the two most important men in his life, cursing their existence while also being grateful he had them at all.
They got a last-minute table at Gianni’s, an old favourite of Maverick’s, apparently.
Their table was secluded, and they could talk without fear of being overheard. Not that anyone nearby knew them at all, but some topics they broached were too personal to share with total strangers.
They talked about their relationship; their breakup and the heartbreaks that had followed. Mav held Tom’s hand on the table as they discussed this, green eyes glistening with unshed tears.
They also talked about their expectations for now, this relationship and what they wanted from it.
Tom explained that he didn’t want to go too fast, despite obvious lingering feelings and attraction. Mav teased that he could fall right back into bed that very night, but would respect his choice to wait. His choice to try and take things slow, to protect their hearts from another potential heartbreak.
By the time dessert rolled in, they were both committed to making this work.
Which meant Tom could finally mention what had been bugging him all day.
“So,” he drawled, watching Mav moan around a spoonful of tiramisu, “what are we gonna do about Bradley and Jake?”
“Who’s Jake?” the other man asked with his mouth full.
“My assistant. Who clearly has the hots for your godson, and vice versa.”
“Really?! I didn’t notice…”
“That’s because you have the attention span of a fly, Mitchell.”
“Only when you’re around, sugarplum,” the other man retorted with a shit-eating grin.
Tom gnashed his teeth at him, as he used to do back in the day. Mav’s eyes darkened, but they ignored the spike of desire rising between them.
“Then,” Ice continued, “there’s the fact that they set us up.”
“What?”
Bless this oblivious man and his oblivious little mind. “Bradley and Jake set us up, Pete. With Hondo’s help, I’m sure. There’s no way the elevator broke on its own, not when maintenance was there last week. Plus, Jake was acting weird this morning, and Bradley was acting weird when we got to the lobby.”
Pete seemed to think about it, humming around his spoon. “Makes sense. The cheeky little bastards.”
“So,” Tom carried on, a malevolent smile appearing on his own lips, “what are we going to do to set up these idiots back?”
Mav’s gaze on him was burning. “I love it when you’re being devious, babe.” Tom felt hot under the collar all of a sudden. “Plot away, darling.”
“Alright, here’s what I propose…”
And their plan was afoot.
Bradley and Jake wouldn’t know what hit them.
Payback was a bitch.
Or so they said.