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Summary
"I'm telling you man, Mav's in fucking love with him! Head over heels, ass over teacups level shit."
Ice pauses in his stride, almost tripping over his own feet and ducks under the wing of a plane to not be seen by the others.
"Maverick? In love with Iceman? You're fucking with me Bradshaw." Hollywood retorts laughing. Tom rears his head up so quickly he whacks himself on the crown of his head and the thud of skull meeting metal is audible as it echoes.
After over a year of pining, hidden by thinly veiled witty comebacks, snapping jaws, and wingman excuses, the Class of '86, along with Viper and Jester finally decide that enough is enough.
Predictably, they have no fucking clue what they're doing. Goose just wants to take a nap, and Slider wants to hit the two dumbasses on the back of their heads with a frying pan.