Archive of Our Own

June 1995

“Our top story of the evening comes from Bosnia, where an American fighter pilot was shot down earlier today,” the newscaster began. Tom dropped his fork, and the sound it made clattering to the linoleum floor echoed in the empty kitchen. Tom didn’t notice, however, eyes glued to the tiny television he had on his counter, his breath stalling in his lungs.

“The pilot was on routine patrol enforcing Operation Deny Flight as a part of the NATO coalition in the Balkans,” the woman continued blandly, glancing down at the papers in front of her. “Sources from the Pentagon have reported that Serbian surface to air missiles targeted the jet, and the pilot was shot down. It is unknown at this time whether he survived or if he has been captured by enemy combatants. President Clinton gave a brief statement earlier today, saying that it is widely believed this was a deliberate attempt to take an American hostage and that he will be conferring with military leaders…”

Tom shot up, moving towards his phone. Normally, today would have been his weekly call with Mav, but his wingman had called yesterday instead, saying he had been scheduled for more sorties over the no-fly zone after the UNPROFOR hostage situation had escalated, and that he wasn’t sure if he’d be in the air during their normal call time. Taking a deep breath, he dialed Carole’s number, knowing she would have been called first if something happened.

Carole picked up after the first ring. “Have you heard from him?” she asked urgently. “We had the news on, and I had to send Bradley out to get some boxes from the garage when they started talking about Bosnia.”

Heart sinking, Tom sighed. “No,” he told her reluctantly. “I was hoping you would have heard something. You’re his emergency contact.”

Carole laughed nervously. “Well, I think no news is good news in this situation.”

Tom ran a hand through his hair, feeling the tension crawling up his neck. “Hopefully. You’d think they would have called you before releasing it to the news if something did happen to him,” he responded.

There was a pause. “Tom,” Carole started carefully. “Wasn’t Mav supposed to call you today? You haven’t heard from him?”

“He called yesterday,” Tom told her. “He said his schedule’s been rearranged because of the hostage situation. They have him flying more patrols, trying to do more to enforce the no-fly.” Nerves shot through him again, just as they had last night when he’d spoken with Mav. Tensions had been rising since the NATO bombings a few weeks back, and had gotten even worse when the peacekeepers had been taken to be used as human shields. Tom may have just gotten back from the Gulf a couple of weeks ago to begin his shore duty, but even he was aware of how dicey things had gotten in the Balkans.

“He’s still on the Roosevelt, right?” Carole fretted. Tom closed her eyes; he could understand her worry, but there was little he could do to reassure her. Mav was in an active warzone, and his wingman wasn’t known for being the most cautious flyer.

“Yeah,” Tom said. “This sure has been a busy tour for him. Patrolling Iraq and now Bosnia.”

He could hear Carole huff out a laugh. “You lucked out being on the Carl Vinson, huh?” she asked dryly.

Tom swallowed. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. And he didn’t even piss off anyone this time. This was just part of his normal rotation.”

Carole hummed. “I hope they aren’t keeping him in the air too long,” she murmured worriedly. “That’s a lot of time for him to be alone in that head of his.”

Tom glanced at the television, where the broadcaster was now discussing the Scripps National Spelling Bee. “I’m sure the guys on his squadron are looking out for him,” he tried to reassure her and himself. That was a worry Ice had carried with him for the last six months. This was the first deployment he and Mav had served separately since ’87, thanks to Ice’s promotion to Commander of the VFA-113 Stings. While he was proud to be put in command of such a prestigious squadron, it meant he was without his wingman, and his wingman without him. He had faith in Mav’s abilities as a pilot, but less in his ability to refrain from being stupid.

He and Carole continued to chat for a few more minutes, discussing Bradley’s upcoming baseball tournament and her hope that she would be able to come out to California later in the summer when Mav was supposed to return while the Roosevelt was docked for updates and repairs.

“Please let me know if you hear anything,” Carole begged as they wrapped up their conversation, her worry clear in her voice. “I just can’t imagine what I’d do if something happened to him.”

Tom closed his eyes tightly. “I will Carole, I promise.”

They hung up the phone, and Tom looked around the small, tidy kitchen. He and Mav had put in the new cabinets last fall, the pale wood brightening the space along with the pale-yellow paint they had put on the walls. Mav’s small crank radio sat next to the toaster on the counter, and there was a small picture on the fridge of him, Tom, and Bradley at the beach last summer, each holding a popsicle and sticking out their tongues.

Tom stepped over the fridge, reaching out to softly touch Mav in the picture. “Just come home, Pete,” he whispered, heart aching.

*

Tom tried to muster up guilt at the outpouring of relief he felt when it was reported the next morning that the pilot who was shot down was in the Air Force. But all he could think was thank god it wasn’t him, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Later in the week, when Mav called to check in, he sounded exhausted. “They’ve had us in the air constantly,” he explained through a yawn. “But we’ve been flying closer to the coast, not up near Banja Luka.”

“Carole and I were worried,” Tom told him softly, leaning back against the couch cushion, eyeing the news report he had muted. They were showing footage of the fighting in Eastern Europe.

Mav laughed. “Don’t you worry about me,” he said. “I’m too good for any of these guys.”

Tom frowned. “Don’t get too cocky, Maverick,” he warned, purposefully using his full callsign.

“Okay, Iceman,” Mav shot back with a snort. But his voice was serious when he continued. “Really, though. Don’t waste your time worrying about me. The most exciting thing I see on patrol nowadays is a couple of supply helicopters. And we’re not even allowed to engage anymore.” Tom’s mouth quirked up as Maverick complained.

“Sounds fun,” he said sarcastically.

Mav sighed dramatically. “I’d honestly rather be in the air all day than back on the boat,” he said, his voice pitched lower. “People are getting antsy. The Marines will be the ones to get this guy if he’s still alive, but the guys on the boat are getting nervous that boots will be ordered on the ground if the Serbians have this guy and kill him.”

Tom tensed. “That just scuttlebutt, or something more?”

Mav was silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t be shocked if they sent us in,” he finally said. “Ice, some of the shit that people are saying – well, if any of it is true, maybe we should go in. People are talking about finding mass graves. If we’re here for peacekeeping, shouldn’t we be stopping this?”

Swallowing roughly, Tom screwed his eyes shut. “You saying you want to get dragged into another war, Mav?” He could remember the Gulf, the exhaustion and worry that dogged them every day, but at least they had been together. Now Mav was on the other side of the world, and there was nothing Tom could do if something happened.

“No, Ice, that’s not what I’m saying,” Mav snapped back. “But if these guys are going around slaughtering whole villages, raping women and kids, shouldn’t we stop that? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

Tom could hear the plain frustration in his partner’s voice, and a level of desperation that he thought he might understand. Why were they anchored there, out in the Mediterranean and not docking stateside to finish out their tour, if they couldn’t do anything?

“Well, I’m sure you’re really making those supply flights nervous,” Ice shot back, trying to lighten the mood.

Mav scoffed. “If they even notice us. I swear to god, if I dropped down to level with them they still wouldn’t realize we were up there. Comet was trying to convince our XO to let us run drills on patrol the other day, just to liven things up.”

Tom barked out a laugh. “Isn’t your XO a tightass? How’d that go?”

Mav snickered a bit. “I’ll let you know if Comet ever gets off scut. It’s nice not being the one on the shit-list for once.”

“What, did he knock you down one peg?”

Tom laughed at Mav’s totally-bullshit indignation. And he laughed some more when Mav tiredly explained how some ensigns tried to reenact part of a John Hughes movie the night before in the rec room, complete with a pink skirt they had gotten from somewhere.

“You doing okay out there, Mav?” Tom asked softly when Mav finished his story through jaw-cracking yawns. He felt a phantom ache in his chest, his arms, desperate to hold the younger man close for the first time in half a year, to take care of him, to love him.

“Yeah,” Mav groaned through another yawn. “I’m just counting down ‘til we set out for Virginia at this point.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“Sure,” Mav said. “That’s probably a good idea. I have to be up at the crack of dawn again tomorrow to fly patrol.”

“Be safe, Pete.”

He got a low chuckle in return. “Yeah, yeah. You look after yourself too, Kazansky.”

*

Three weeks later, Tom was waiting by the phone again for his scheduled call with Maverick. He had just placed his dinner in the oven, and he tapped his fingers on the counter, mindlessly staring at the TV as they discussed some crap happening in DC.

Finally, five minutes later than normal, the phone rang, and he eagerly answered, relaxing slightly as he went through his normal greetings with Mav. But soon enough his shoulders stiffened at the stilted way Pete was speaking to him.

He could tell Pete was nervous about something, and that Pete was just going to continue being awkward until he got it out. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Mitchell, whatever it is, just spit it out,” he said sharply.

He could hear Maverick suck in a breath, before exhaling slowly. He could imagine Mav tipping his head back, scrunching his eyes shut like he normally did when he finally gave in. “Fine, fine,” Mav finally muttered. “I won’t be coming back home in August.”

Tom felt his eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Mav sighed again, frustrated. “I’m being transferred,” he bit out. “They’re sending me to the joint operation base in Italy. I’ll be there until January.”

“Is your entire squad being moved, or just you?” Tom demanded, even though he could feel his heart dropping to the floor. That was another six months his wingman would be out there, all alone. Another six months until he would get to see him.

“Me and a few other guys,” Mav admitted. “There was a decision to separate the squad for unit cohesion.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Ice questioned, perplexed. Because what the actual fuck?

He faintly heard a thud, though he wasn’t sure what caused it, but then Pete started talking again, sound frustrated and pissed. “A few guys decided Comet wasn’t interested enough in the skin mags they snuck onboard, and was too friendly with some of the sailors. They went to try and teach him a lesson, and our CO caught us trying to teach a lesson back.”

“Shit, Mav,” Tom breathed out, closing his eyes, horror coursing through him.

“Apparently we were in the wrong trying to take matters in our own hands, even though the four of us walked in on them beating him,” Mav went on, voice low but furious. “We should have gone to the CO first, no matter the fuck-all he would have done about it. Comet’s got a broken wrist and more bruises than skin, and all those fuckers got was a warning.”

“And now they’re punishing you by keeping you out there,” Tom finished flatly. “Jesus, Mav, that’s so fucked up.”

Maverick let out a humorless laugh. “At least we’ll be on an Air Force base, so maybe we’ll actually get turkey on Thanksgiving. Those assholes always get the good stuff.”

“Don’t joke about it, Mav,” Tom snapped, slapping his hand down on the kitchen table. “You should report this. They shouldn’t be jerking you around to punish you for helping another pilot.”

Mav snorted. “Only two months on land and you’ve already forgotten how it works out at sea, huh? What good is complaining going to do, except land me in bumfuck nowhere for my shore duty?”

“Pete –”

“No, Ice,” Mav snapped. Tom’s jaw snapped shut in surprise at the anger in his partner’s voice. “Don’t tell me the proper way of handling this. Those guys beat Comet because they thought he might be a queer, all because he’s too classy to jerk off to a skin mag. I don’t need to make more problems by demanding something different, when I could’ve gotten court martialed for sending two guys to the infirmary. I’ll stay out here for six more months for this all to stay quiet, for Comet’s sake and my own.”

Tom swallowed hard, feeling his throat click. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s not pleasant,” Mav snapped. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I’m just frustrated. I was looking forward to coming back, seeing you and Bradley and Carole.”

“Will you get any shore leave?”

There was a pause. “I could,” Mav said uncertainly. “I have tons saved up. If I could get it approved.”

Hope rose in Tom’s chest. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait another half a year to see his wingman after all.

“I could fly out to you,” he offered softly. “Meet you in Rome or something.”

Mav laughed incredulously. “What, come out here for a weekend or something? Are you crazy?”

*

The flight from the boat to the airbase in Italy was quick and quiet. Comet sat next to him, wincing at any turbulence they encountered. The other guys being transferred, Bambi and Poker, sat on Comet’s other side, sullenly muttering to each other. On the boat, both had waved off Comet’s apologies, but it was clear that they were unhappy about the situation.

Eventually they landed, disembarking from the transport plane. The sun was high in the sky, washing out the tarmac with its brightness. Uncertainty pooled in Maverick’s belly as he took in the rows of F-16s and Hercules lining the tarmac, but led his pilots forward regardless.

A first lieutenant was waiting for them.

“Sirs,” he started, briefly saluting the four aviators, who saluted back tiredly. “I was asked to bring you to Colonel Whitaker.”

“Lead the way,” Maverick said with a sharp grin. “What’s your name, lieutenant?”

“Groves, sir,” the lieutenant responded as he began to guide them toward a brick building beside the tarmac. Inside was darker and thankfully cooler, and Maverick pulled his aviators off.

The four followed Groves down the hallway and up a staircase, pausing outside a wooden door. Groves reached out to knock.

“Come in,” a raspy voice called out. Groves opened the door, waving the other men through first.

An older man sat behind a desk, peering into a computer. He glanced up, smiling at them.

“Ah, our friends from the Navy,” he drawled out. “Welcome to Aviano, I’m Colonel Whitaker.” He turned to Groves. “Thank you for bringing these boys up here, lieutenant. If you could step out, I’ll have them ready to send out to their quarters in a moment.”

With a quick salute Groves left, shutting the door behind him. Maverick, Comet, Bambi and Poker remained at parade rest before him.

“Well, gentlemen, I’ll start out by pointing out the obvious: this ain’t the Navy. We do things a bit different in the Air Force, and I have a briefing scheduled for you after you get settled in. But I’ll just say to start, no one here should be treating you differently just because you like to sleep on a boat and land on a postage stamp in the sea.” Whitaker stood up, coming to stand in front of his desk. “My understanding is that each of you is trained in the F-18, is that right?”

“Yessir,” they all said.

He nodded thoughtfully. “We have a few of those here, might be nice to have those out to complement our Vipers,” he said. “But that’s a discussion for later. I’ll be meeting you all later for a briefing, once you’ve settled in. Groves will show you to your quarters. Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, please stay.”

Maverick, who had been about to follow Poker out of the door, stopped and looked back at Whitaker, allowing Comet to walk past him. Whitaker came over, shutting the door.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

Maverick sat carefully, watching the Colonel warily. He made a conscious effort to keep his face and shoulders relaxed, though, unwilling to show weakness to this stranger.

“So,” Whitaker started as he sat back down in his chair. “You have quite the distinguished service record, Commander.”

Maverick blinked. “Sir?”

Whitaker grinned at him, pulling out a file. “This here says you have three air-to-air kills,” he said, gesturing down at the file. “Not the mention hundreds of hours spent flying sorties in Iraq, and more over in Bosnia. Even the reprimands show some grudging respect for your flying, if not your attitude.”

Maverick wasn’t sure how to respond, so he stayed quiet.

Whitaker seemed to size him up, leaning forward on his desk to observe him. “Son, I’m not going to ask what happened to get you sent over to us. If your CO didn’t think it necessary for me to know, then neither will I. You’re not the first flyboy from another service sent to us here, and you won’t be the last. But I’ll be damned if I don’t take advantage of your talent while I have you.”

Maverick blinked, leaning back on his seat. “What do you mean, sir?” he asked carefully.

Whitaker nodded at him. “Well Mitchell, I’ve been at this long enough to read between the lines,” he started, opening Mav’s file and leafing through a few pages. He stopped on a page with several redactions. “I go through here, and once I hit 1992 there’s plenty of pages like this. How many black ops have you flown?”

Despite feeling his stomach plummet to the ground, Mav stayed silent, working to keep his face neutral. He could almost hear Tom’s voice in his head, asking him to be careful, to make it home, just like he had in their call last night.

Whitaker scoffed at the stony expression on Maverick’s face, misinterpreting the reason for it. “You aren’t breaking any laws in speaking with me, son. I daresay my clearance is higher than yours.”

Maverick swallowed. “Sir, I did fly some special operation missions during Desert Storm,” he said haltingly, trying to be careful about the words he chose. And oh, did he wish Ice was here for this. Ice could navigate this minefield of a conversation with ease. “But I would say I primarily worked with a squadron. As I’ve done since.”

The Colonel leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes. “And you’ll continue to, Mitchell. But I look at a file like yours, with your history and your talents, and I can’t say I’m willing to waste that. I’d like to have you sit down with Major Thomas and myself this evening, and we’ll brief you on some upcoming missions I’d like to read you in on.”

And there was nothing that Maverick could do but nod. “Yes, sir.”

*

Carole seemed nervous, but Bradley was ecstatic at the idea of seeing his Uncle Pete in Europe, one big family trip before the new school year started. Tom was able to get a layover in Dallas so he could fly with the two of them to Venice, with Bradley in the window seat besides Tom.

“Uncle Tom, is this how high you get when you fly? You can’t see anything! There’s just clouds!” Bradley exclaimed, looking between the window and Tom excitedly after they had taken off. Beside him, Carole pursed her lips, pulling a book out of her purse.

“Well, sometimes we go this high, but we’re usually lower,” Tom explained. “But we go a lot faster.” Bradley’s eyes go wider, wonder filling his face.

Two hours later Bradley finally seemed to run out of questions, content to watch the world pass by beneath them, his nose stuck to the glass of the window. Tom leaned back into his seat, trying to get comfortable.

“Anxious flyer?” Carole asked dryly, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye.

Tom snorted. “I wouldn’t say that, no.”

Carole smiled fondly at him. “Nick was a nervous flyer, Mav too,” she whispered conspiratorially. “They couldn’t stand flying commercial. I’m sure Mav is still the same way.”

Tom chuckled, thinking of all the times he saw his wingman white knuckle his way through civilian transports. “He is,” he assured her.

Carole snorted. “I’d pay good money to see him stuck as a passenger in some little crop-duster.” Tom laughed quietly with her, easily able to imagine the panicked anxiety attack Mav would be in if he was stuck riding in some Cessna.

Eventually, Bradley fell asleep, his cheek still pressed against the window. Carole closed her book with a quiet sigh, looking over at her son. “He was so happy when I told him we were going to fly out to Italy,” she whispered to Tom. “I think he was more excited that he was going to get to ride in an airplane than anything else.”

Tom looked over at Bradley with a soft smile. “The kid sure does love planes,” he whispered back. He glanced over just in time to see a heartbroken look on Carole’s face.

When she noticed him looking, she smoothed out her expression, looking down quickly.

Tom frowned at her, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She waved him off, opening her book again.

Worry crested in Tom’s stomach. The way she had looked, it was like she found out Bradley was going to his death. “No, it isn’t,” he whispered hotly. “Seriously, Carole, what’s wrong?”

Carole stared down at her book for a few moments, her posture tense. They she snapped the book shut. “I don’t want him to fly,” she told him, her voice firm.

Tom stared at her in shock.

Her expression crumpled. “Oh Tom, don’t you get it? I don’t want him to end up like Nick. He hears all those stories from you, from Mav, and he wants to do all the same things. He can’t think of anything else to do for himself. But look at what it cost my family. What its cost you and Mav. I don’t want that for my son.”

Tom reached out, pulling Carole close, letting her cry on his shoulder.

“Carole, why didn’t you say anything before?” he asked her softly, carefully, rubbing his hand down her back.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “I couldn’t tell Mav,” she whispered brokenly. “It would just break his heart.”

Tom knew she was right. He knew Pete still woke up at night, calling for Goose, shivering with the memory of being in the water. It had been nine years since the incident, and Tom had lost count of how many nights he spent comforting his wingman through the trauma of losing his best friend. Carole had been a rock through it all, never blaming Mav, always there to support him, to be his family like Goose had been.

If Mav heard her say that she didn’t want Bradley to fly, didn’t want him to end up like his father, his already-broken heart would shatter.

“It’ll be okay,” Tom soothed, pulling Carole into his side again, unsure of what else to say. “Things will work out. There’s plenty of time.”

*

“Mav, Mav!” Bradley screeched, running ahead of Carole and Tom to launch himself at Pete.

Pete caught him with a wide smile, staggering back slightly. “Wow Bradley, did you grow some more?” he wheezed.

Carole laughed as she approached. “He’ll be as tall as his father,” she warned with a smile.

Bradley released Pete from his tight grip and took a step back, grinning when he saw he was close to his uncle’s height. “Wow, Uncle Pete, you are short!”

Tom barked out a laugh. “I wish I could have recorded that,” he told them, smiling broadly. Pete glared at all of them.

“Wow, not even five minutes and you’re all ganging up on me,” he complained, reaching out to pull Carole into a tight hug.

“Oh stop,” she hushed, patting him on the arm. “You know we do it out of love.”

He smiled at her as he pulled back. “Yeah, I know,” he said, looking right at Tom.

And oh. Oh. How had he gone so long without Pete staring him like that, eyes crinkled as he stared fondly at Tom, like Tom was the sun and stars in his sky? Tom suddenly felt like Dorothy, stepping out from a sepia-toned world into the vibrant colors of Oz. The green of Pete’s eyes stood out vibrantly to him, standing out from the plain white shirt he wore with jeans.

Mindful of the crowd around him, he reached out, pulling Pete into a quick hug, his skin tingling where he touched his partner. Pete hugged him back, his grip tight for the brief moment they embraced.

With a soft smile, Pete drew back, patting Tom on the arm. “Nice to see you, Ice,” he said casually, his eyes twinkling. “It’s been too long.”

Ice flashed him an easy smile. “It has been, Mitchell. Keeping the skies safe for us?”

Pete shot him a cocky grin. “Don’t forget Kazansky, I’m dangerous.”

Tom felt his ears flush at the look Mav was giving him, and Carole quickly stepped between them, looping her arm through Pete’s.

“Alright then Maverick, where are you taking us?”

Pete grinned down at her, reaching out with his free hand to pull Bradley close too. Tom felt his throat tighten at the sight. There was Pete with his family, holding them close with a carefree smile on his face. It had been too long since he had seen him, seen him like this.

“Well,” Pete said with a drawl. “I suppose we have to see the gondolas, since we’re in Venice.”

*

Tom clutched at Pete in their hotel bed, tucking him in as close as possible. The early morning light filtered in through the window, giving the room a soft glow. In his arms, Pete shifted slightly, making a happy noise. Their legs tangled together under the sheets as they moved together.

“I’ve missed this,” he said softly, his breath puffing out onto Tom’s chest.

“Me too,” Tom responded. He pressed a kiss to Pete’s head.

“I was worried I wouldn’t get this again,” Pete whispered, something broken in his voice.

Tom frowned, pulling back slightly. Pete stared up at him, his green eyes brighter than normal. “What do you mean?” he asked softly, cupping Pete’s jaw.

Pete turned his head slightly to kiss Tom’s wrist, closing his eyes with a sigh. “I haven’t been able to tell you everything, not over the phone,” Pete admitted, tucking himself back into Tom’s chest. “They have me on black ops again.”

Tom felt himself freeze as horror went through him. He remembered the black ops Pete had flown in Iraq, how Maverick always came back shaking with adrenaline, stress, before being swept away to debriefs that lasted for hours. Something in Mav always seemed twisted, broken, after each of those missions. And he could never tell Ice what he was doing.

But Ice knew that there had been several times someone didn’t make it back. And that Mav would beat himself up, blame himself, even as Ice heard rumors of the extraordinary flying done by his wingman in an attempt to get everyone home.

Tom pulled Pete in closer, gripping him tightly. “Pete,” he murmured into his darker hair. “I’m so sorry. Please tell me it isn’t anything like before.”

Mav stiffened before sighing, his muscles relaxing under Tom’s hands. “It’s different,” he whispered. “Mostly low-level bombings targeting SAMs before coalition forces go through to do the high-level bombs.”

Tom moved his hand up Mav’s back, going up his spine to cup his head. His heart clenched.

“Are they sending you out alone?” he asked quietly, his eyes squeezed shut, trying not to imagine his wingman alone in the sky.

He felt Pete shake his head. “No, there’s always two of us,” he responded. Pete pulled back, and Tom loosened his grip to give him room. He met Tom’s gaze. Tom could see how the stress was affecting him in the tight lines around his eyes and the dark circles beneath them. Yesterday, as he went with them to see the sights, he had carried a smile the entire day, hiding his exhaustion. But he was letting Tom see it now.

Tom moved his hand, cupping Pete’s jaw, one hand stroking his bottom lip. “Promise me you’re being safe,” he begged. “Promise me you aren’t being reckless.”

Something in Pete’s eyes shifted, hardened, and he nodded tightly. “I’m going to make it home to you and Carole and Bradley,” he promised, voice firm.

Tom knew Pete kept his promises.

There was nothing more he could say, so he tilted his head down, capturing Mav’s lips in a soft kiss. After a few moments, Mav slid his hands up into Ice’s hair, gripping tightly, and Ice pulled back with a gasp. Mav was staring at him, his eyes dark. Tom nodded at the unspoken question.

Mav shifted until he was straddling Tom, leaning down to kiss him again, his hands running over Tom’s chest like he couldn’t help himself, like he couldn’t decide where to place them.

Tom moved his hands from Mav’s face to his sides, pulling him down closer, needing to feel his skin against his.

“I love you,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to nip at Pete’s jaw. Pete let out a breathy sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as Tom moved to suck a mark onto his collarbone.

Pete shifted his hips, and they both groaned at the friction the movement created. Pete moved again, thrusting down against Ice, leaning down to capture his lips again as he moved his hips again and again and again.

They finished like that, Pete first with a gasp against Tom’s mouth, and then Tom moments later when Pete wrapped his hand around Tom’s dick. They stayed stuck together, panting, hands mindlessly wandering over each other as their hearts slowed. Pete shivered after a few minutes, and Tom reached down, pulling the comforter back over them.

Some time later, after they dozed in each other’s arms as the sun rose higher in the sky, Pete shifted, pressing a kiss over Tom’s heart. “I wish I was coming home with you,” he whispered, so quiet Tom barely heard him.

Tom pressed a kiss to his head. “Me too, Mitchell,” he whispered back.

*

“Mav, can’t we go check out your base?” Bradley asked as they stepped back out onto the sunny streets. The Basilica loomed behind them.

Pete laughed, sliding his shades on. “What, not excited to go shopping?” he teased. Beside him, Tom smirked, meeting his gaze out of the corner of his eyes.

Bradley huffed. “Mom can go shopping. You, me, and Ice could go check out the F-16s!”

Carole gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Bradley Bradshaw,” she scolded, fighting a smile. “I can’t believe you’d abandon me to go look at some planes. Your own mother.”

Pouting, Bradley rolled his eyes. “But Mom, I don’t want to go shopping!” he whined.

“But what if I want to go shopping?” Pete snarked back. “Who knows, maybe I’ll find something nice to hang up in my quarters.”

Bradley stopped and turned to face him, his expression conveying so much betrayal that all the adults stopped because they were laughing so hard.

Later, as Carole tried on giant sunglasses and flung brightly-colored scarves at Tom, Mav caught Bradley hovering nearby, his expression peaceful, happy.

“Doing okay, kid?” he asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Bradley nodded, leaning into him. “It’s nice,” he said, smiling up at Mav. “I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve all been together.”

Mav nodded and smiled despite feeling absolutely gutted. “It is really nice,” he agreed. “Hopefully we’ll get to do more together soon.” Bradley nodded.

“Hey you two, how about these?” Carole called, catching their attention. They both burst out laughing at the giant pink sunglasses hiding most of her face. Tom stood next to her, looking disgruntled as he carried a pile of scarves for her.

Pete threw a wink at his wingman, whose face only soured further.

*

Tom clutched at him, holding him tightly in the privacy of the alcove they had found. “God, Pete, I’m going to miss you,” he murmured, and Pete pulled at him harder, his eyes squeezed shut. He could hear the heartbreak in his partner’s voice.

“It’s just a few more months,” Mav whispered back. “Then I’ll be back home with you.”

Ice pulled back, looking down at him fiercely. “You better make it home, Maverick,” he said hotly, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim light. “I better not hear about any stupid stunts.”

Mav rolled his eyes. “C’mon Ice, have some faith in me,” he retorted. Then he grinned slyly, sneaking a hand under Tom’s shirt, rubbing his hand along his lower back. “Anyway, why would I want to miss out on this?”

A faint blush covered Tom’s face. “Stop it,” he hissed, pulling Pete’s hand away. Pete laughed.

“I’m really gonna miss you, you tight ass,” he said fondly.

Tom glanced at the hallway before quickly leaning down to kiss him. He pulled back, staring softly down at Mav. “I’ll call you when I get home,” he murmured.

Pete swallowed and nodded. He knew this was the closest to a goodbye that Ice would do.

“Don’t worry about the time,” he responded quietly. “I won’t be up in the air for a few more days.”

Tom nodded, reaching up to caress his cheek for a moment. Then he sighed and stepped back into the light. Mav stayed in the shadows for a beat, watching Ice stride back over to the terminal where Carole and Bradley were waiting. Then he followed, heart heavy in his chest, to see them all off.

*

“Well Tom, nice to see you out in public for once,” a familiar voice said next to him.

Tom turned to see Ron sliding onto the stool next to him, a beer already in hand.

He shot his RIO an unimpressed look.

Ron snorted at his expression. “Oh please,” he snarked. “Its not like it isn’t true. You’ve been holed up at your house, pining after Mitchell like some teenage girl.”

“Ron,” Tom hissed, glancing around, but he didn’t see anyone he recognized in their immediate vicinity.

Ron snickered at his expression. “Lighten up, Iceman,” he said, bumping shoulders with him. “Have another vodka soda, let loose.” He took a sip from his IPA, glancing sidelong at Ice, his expression more serious. “Maybe flirt with some pretty girls.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Tom whispered furiously, his face going red.

Ron turned to fully face him, leaning in close. “Listen, man, you know I support you,” he whispered quickly. “And I’m always here for you. But if I’ve been hearing stuff around base, I know you’ve heard it too.”

Tom sucked in a breath, ducking his head down to stare into his drink, suddenly feeling cold.

Ron was right, was the thing.

Tom had heard whispers at North Island, people questioning why he wasn’t married with kids already. Why he was never seen takings girls on dates, why he just had pictures of his family and friends in his office. Some people had been bold enough to approach him directly, offering to set him up on dates. Those people would just sigh and shake their heads when he told them he fine, that he was married to the job.

There were others, however, who spread less kind rumors. Whispers of queer or fag followed him sometimes as he went from the locker room to the hangar. Whispers that could end his career if someone had any proof, any evidence.

Things were marginally better now than before, with no one being allowed to confront him directly. But that didn’t stop the scuttlebutt.

Ron swallowed, shifting slightly closer. “I’m not trying to be an ass, okay?” he murmured, voice barely audible over the music of the bar. “But I want you to be careful. You don’t deserve to have your career ruined over this.”

Tom took a careful sip from his drink before looking at Ron, trying to keep his expression even. “These are just the same things people have been gossiping about since the Academy,” he said, trying to be dismissive. “There’s nothing new to any of them.”

Ron winced. “Except now there’s Mitchell.”

Tom went still. “What?”

Ron glanced around before leaning in close again. “I heard some guys talking about you and Maverick,” he whispered. Tom could feel his heart thundering in his chest. “They seemed to know you went out to visit him in August, and how often you two exchange letters and calls.”

“I went with Carole and Bradley,” Tom protested through numb lips.

Ron nodded with a frown. “Hey, I know that. But it just feeds into the scuttlebutt, you know? That’s why I’m saying maybe you should branch out a bit, try and chat up a girl. Because those guys weren’t exactly wrong, were they?”

Tom stared out into the crowd of the bar, at people smiling and laughing and drinking and dancing, and felt like the world was crashing down around him. “Shit, Ron,” he whispered. “What if they know?”

Ron winced. “I don’t think you’d be hearing this from me, then.”

Tom swallowed roughly, nodding. Ron was right. If anyone had any proof that he was in a relationship with a man, he’d be hauled straight to the CO’s office. He didn’t know if there would be a court martial, or immediate discharge, but that was certainly a possibility.

Ron patted him on the shoulder. “Hey man, it’ll be okay. Right now, it’s all gossip. No reason for it to become anything more. Especially if you’re smart about it.”

Tom nodded at him and threw back his drink.

*

Maverick swore under his breath as he came out of a roll, the missiles exploding around him as they struck his chaff.

“Comet, bank left,” he barked as he leveled out, seeing another missile going for his wingman.

Comet successfully evaded. “Maverick, I’m out of decoy,” he reported as he started to climb to evade the range of the SAMs.

“Copy,” Mav responded as he targeted the SAM ahead of them, firing a successful shot. The explosion lit up the landscape for a moment, showing low hills and a dense forest before everything was dark again. “Nickel 2 is Winchester and RTB,” he reported to the radio.

“We still have a target left,” Comet protested.

“Negative Comet, I’m ordering you RTB,” Maverick retorted sharply.

“Copy,” his wingman said sullenly, pulling up to return to base. Mav climbed up with him, keeping an eye out for additional missiles, in case there were any SAMs around the immediate area that they hadn’t been briefed on.

“Nickel 1, status,” commanche requested, voice staticky over the radio.

“Charlie Foxtrot,” Maverick bit out. “Requesting early return.”

“Nickel 2, RTB,” came the response. “Nickel 1, picture clear. Buster remaining targets.”

Maverick grit his teeth, pulling away from Comet. “Copy,” he responded tersely, checking his radar for the final two SAMs.

If he had been with a squadron, he never would have been told to finish a mission alone. But Whitaker and Thomas were insistent that these missions be completed at night, before coalition forces came out to bomb at first light. They weren’t reckless in their orders, but Mav also knew they would balk at his return when only one SAM remained.

Mav lowered his altitude again, once again entering the range of the SAMs. He scanned the ground, knowing he would trigger the radar soon. And sure enough, the telltale flash alerting that a missile was being fired created a brief burst of light, giving him a target.

Mindful of the approaching missile he released chaff again, hearing the missile exploding below him as he evaded, eyes still on the target. He got lock and released another missile. A brighter burst of light illuminated the ground again.

“Nickel 1, last target bought the farm,” he reported, pulling back on the stick.

He missed the response from base when his proximity alert suddenly rang out, and the breath stuttered in his chest for just a moment as he realized another missile had targeted him, that it must have locked on him just as he was shooting the SAM.

“Shit,” he muttered, yanking up to gain altitude and hopefully get a visual. He finally saw the tail out of the corner of his eye, and he swore again as he tried to roll away. He released chaff as he pulled up and twisted his jet in an attempt to avoid a hit.

He saw the missile erupt upon its collision with the chaff, but was distracted by the sudden jerk of his plane. The monitors screamed at him.

“Left engine is out,” he reported, diverting fuel to the right engine. “Repeat, Nickel 1, left engine is dead. Unknown cause. Suspected FOD.”

“Acknowledged,” commanche said. There was a pause. “Can you return to base?”

Maverick checked his display again. “Yes,” he reported. “Fuel successfully diverted to right engine. Should be sufficient.”

“Nickel 1, RTB. Keep comms open.”

“Copy, elevating to 12,000 feet,” he reported, keeping a careful eye on the HUD. His eyes continually went to the fuel gauge to make sure it didn’t suddenly drop.

Several tense minutes went by, and dark forest gave way to dark water. A glance at his radar confirmed he was over the Adriatic. He felt the claws of panic come over his heart, and forcefully pushed back the memories of his last ejection, still hearing echoes of Goose screaming behind him.

He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, just like Tom had told him to do on countless nights when the memories and nightmares woke them up. He tried to focus on those memories instead, of Tom holding him close and making him feel safe. Eventually it seemed to help, his heart slowing as he calmed down.

He kept the plane steady, checking in with base every few minutes as he made his way across the sea. He was relieved to hear they had helicopters on Alert 5 in case a water rescue was needed.

The sky was just starting to turn pink when the plane jerked again, and Mav’s eyes widened as he sucked in a deep breath. The right engine was stalling.

He tried to restart it, but felt his stomach drop when he realized he was dumping fluid.

He went through the emergency procedures solely on muscle memory, but his efforts were in vain; the engine fully shut off, and he lost all thrust. The jet started to descend.

In the forefront of his mind was the unknown damage to the back of the plane, and whether it would affect his ability to eject. He suddenly could hear nothing but the crunch of Goose’s neck when he hit the canopy.

He eyed the approaching water. It was relatively calm out, with little wind. The waves he could see were small, with no visible white caps. He could land the jet on the water and evacuate.

Probably.

“Deadstick, deadstick! I have to ditch!” Maverick yelled, trying to level out his wings as he approached the blue water. He was grateful that the sun was coming up behind him, lighting up the waves. He could see land in the distance but knew he had no chance of making it. He rattled off his coordinates as he concentrated on landing on the down side of the approaching waves.

The last thing he heard before impact was that SAR was being deployed. He closed his eyes as the waves approached, and thought of Bradley, Tom, and Carole, their smiles as they helped him onto a gondola, laughing at his unsteadiness on the little boat.

Then there was nothing but darkness all around him.

*

Tom startled awake, glancing around his moonlit bedroom wildly, trying to figure out what woke him.

The phone beside his bed rang again and he went cold, quickly reaching for it. No news coming at 2 a.m. could be good news.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Tom,” Carole cried, and Tom felt all the blood leave his face.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, heart hammering as he sat up.

“I just got a call that Mav crashed,” Carole told him thickly. Tom found he suddenly couldn’t breathe. “They said SAR found him and were bringing him back to base, but they couldn’t tell me his condition.”

Tom couldn’t respond, feeling frozen in place. Mayday, mayday, Mav’s in trouble. He’s in a flat spin heading out to sea.

“Tom? Are you there?” Carole asked uncertainly.

Tom cleared his throat, feeling his eyes burning. “Did they say anything else?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice even.

There was a pause. “Just that he went down over sea. Luckily he wasn’t too far from land, they got to him quickly.”

Tom suddenly felt nauseous, remembering seeing Mav and Goose crash into the waves. And now it had happened to Mav again, except he was completely alone. No one there to help him, to make sure he was okay.

“But he was alive?” Tom asked, because Carole hadn’t said that yet, and he needed to hear it.

“Yes, yes,” Carole rushed to clarify, sounding like she was crying again.

Relief took away the nausea. “Thank god,” he muttered. “Did they have any idea of when you would be updated?”

“No,” Carole huffed. “They just said he was being taken to medical and someone would reach out to me once he had been examined.”

Tom ran a hand through his hair, mind racing through the possibilities. Ejections were dangerous, if Mav had even had the chance to do so. He could have minor injuries or life-threatening ones. He could just be bruised, or his aviation career could have just ended. And Tom knew Mav couldn’t cope with a life on the ground. His wingman was meant to be in the air, blowing them all away with stunts only he could pull off.

“Do you want me to fly out to you?” he asked. Just in case…

Carole sniffed. “No, no, it’s okay. Not unless we hear – well, let’s just wait to hear what’s going on. I wouldn’t want to have you come out here for nothing, Tom.”

“It isn’t nothing,” Tom softly rebuked. “I would want to be there to support you and Bradley.”

Carole sighed. “I truly do appreciate that, Tom. But I think –.” She cut off suddenly. “I’m getting another call, I need to go,” she told him urgently. And then suddenly the line was dead.

Tom sat there, frozen in place, still clutching the phone in the dark.

The headlights of a car passing by his window startled him out of his stupor, and he sucked in a deep breath. He glanced around his room, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He put the phone back on the receiver, and grabbed a hoodie, striding out to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and then sat down at the table, still in the dark.

He couldn’t make himself turn the lights on.

He didn’t want to think about the what-ifs, the worst-case scenarios, but that was where his mind took him, imagining Mav dying, Mav all alone, just like he had always feared. Having to attend Mav’s funeral and bury the one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Having to go on alone without any light in his life, with a shattered heart.

He tried to convince himself that things would be alright, that if Mav survived long enough to be rescued then he would be able to recover from whatever injuries he sustained. Mav had promised he would come home, and if Tom knew anything, it was that Mav would do anything he could to keep his promises. Tom just had to trust him, just like he had trusted him every day since the Layton rescue.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there in the dark, taking careful sips of water as he tried to corral his traitorous mind. But then phone rang again, and he shot up, lunging for the phone.

“Hello?” he asked breathlessly.

“Hey, Ice,” a familiar voice said, and Tom sank straight down to the floor, his eyes watering.

“Pete,” he breathed out, relief flooding through him.

“Carole said I should call you next, she said you were pretty worried,” his wingman said, sounding casual. 

Irritation pulsed through him, replacing the grief that had been threatening to pull him under. “Sue me, Mitchell,” he growled. “I think its pretty reasonable that I’d be worried after being woken up in the middle of the night to news that you crashed your plane.” Mav laughed, but Tom could hear how exhausted he was, even through the phone. He softened his voice. “How bad is it?”

“Nothing much,” Mav said dismissively. “Some bruises and a broken finger. They think I might have sprained a wrist. I think the base doc is more worried I’ll develop pneumonia, honestly.”

Tom sucked in a breath. “And why is he worried about that?” He knew he would have to get the truth about what happened in pieces, that Mav wouldn’t see a reason to share the whole story.

“It took me a bit to get out of the cockpit after I crashed,” Mav started.

“You were in the plane when it crashed?” Tom yelled, unable to stop himself. Holy hell, but now his nightmares would be Mav crashing into the waves, his partner sinking into a watery grave.

Mav sounded irritated when he responded. “It was safer than ejecting, I didn’t know how much more flak the plane had taken and didn’t want to risk it after the engines died.”

Fuck, but it just kept getting worse.

Tom pinched his eyes. “Mitchell, I really need you to just give me the whole story.”

There was a pause. “Well, I really can’t give you the whole story,” Mav said, sounding sheepish. And Tom knew he meant he was on a black op. “But let’s just say my plane sustained damage, I wasn’t sure how extensive it was, and eventually both engines went dead. I didn’t want to risk ejecting when I could glide down safely. I just didn’t anticipate the engines flooding so quickly. I ended up having to eject from underwater to evacuate the plane.”

His explanation just gave Tom more questions than answers, but he knew Pete couldn’t answer any of them over the phone.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said softly. “I’m guessing you’re calling from the base hospital?”

“They won’t release me yet,” Mav grumbled. “They want to keep me 24 hours for observation.”

“Are you already planning your jailbreak?” Tom teased.

Pete sighed. “I have a feeling that won’t go over well here. I’ve already heard people talk about putting me on desk duty until Thanksgiving.”

Relief went through Tom again at the thought that Mav would be kept safely on the ground to recover for at least a few weeks. But he wasn’t going to share that with Mav, who would more likely be upset at being grounded for so long.

“Now you can enjoy that good Air Force food you were talking about,” Tom shot back, his smirk clear in his voice.

“Ha ha,” Mav said sarcastically. “Let’s see how funny this is when I go crazy from being grounded for a month.”

“Oh hush, you big baby.”

Mav sighed again. “Maybe it’ll be good for me,” he murmured, and Tom froze at his contemplative tone. “It’ll give me time to get my head on straight.”

Tom swallowed. “What do you mean?” He had never heard Pete sound like this before.

“When I was going down, all I could think about was you, Bradley, and Carole, and how I didn’t want to leave you all,” Mav whispered. “I promise I wasn’t trying to take any risks, but I ended up in a bad situation anyway. And I never wanted to do that to you, to any of you.” Not like I was abandoned, went unspoken.

“Oh Pete,” Tom murmured, his heart clenching at the sorrow in his friend’s voice. “We have a dangerous job. That’s why I just ask that you don’t take unnecessary risks.”

Maverick was silent for a long time, and when he spoke again, there were clearly tears in his voice. “But I was ordered to go without my wingman. And I didn’t want to, but they ordered me to keep flying anyway when I tried to return with him.” His voice was so quiet Tom had to strain to hear, and he went cold as he listened.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Why would they do that?”

“It – it made sense, logistically. From a command perspective,” Mav whispered haltingly.

“But it wasn’t safe, for you,” Tom finished softly.

“Yeah,” Mav whispered back.

Tom swallowed again. “Just remember you have people who love you,” he whispered, knowing that it would stick with Mav. Mav’s loner tendencies had died down, but he was still prone to isolate himself in times of stress, a habit Tom was slowly breaking. But with Pete on the other side of the world, he knew there was little else his wingman could do.

“I know, Ice, I know,” Mav whispered back.

*

Slider had promised to set him up on some blind dates with some of his wife’s friends, just to clear away some of the gossip. Let him be seen wining and dining a few women, and hopefully the speculation about him would die down.

But after the calls from Carole and Mav a week ago, and the successive nightmares each night since, Ice couldn’t even begin to contemplate going out and putting on a façade just to placate some assholes with too much time to gossip.

Mav could have died, would have died alone in the sea, and Tom was supposed to take other people out on dates?

Slider understood his hesitation, his irritation, but became irritated himself when Ice asked him to cancel for the third time in a row.

“Tom, I’m not asking you to go out and marry anyone,” Slider snapped at him. They were sitting on Slider’s back deck, drinking some cheap beers while a few burgers cooked on the grill. Slider’s wife Cathy was inside, reassuring her friend that Tom really was feeling under the weather and wasn’t just flaking out.

“I just don’t see the point,” Tom snapped back. “It won’t go anywhere, and I don’t want to string someone along.”

Slider signed, looking up at the sky. “I know you’re spooked about what happened to Mitchell,” he said. He looked over at Tom intently. “But I think he’d agree with me if he knew the situation. Hell, wasn’t he still flirting with every girl you saw when you two first got together?”

Tom grimaced. Mav had been a massive flirt back when they first met at Top Gun, and had kept that up even after he and Tom decided to give things a try. It had been the cause of most of their arguments, until Mav backed down, promising to stop if it bothered Tom so much.

“I think he was doing it out of habit more than to give us cover,” Tom grumbled.

Slider snorted. “Yeah, but he still went home with you every night though, right?”

Tom snorted back. Some of the nights that Mav was at his most brazen, he would lean back from the girl he was sitting with, giving Tom heated looks whenever he saw Tom looking. Hell, Tom was pretty sure Mav was doing it to rile him up more than anything else, but he wasn’t going to tell Slider that.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I really don’t want to take any women out on dates,” Tom responded lowly. “Mav and I have been together longer than you and Cathy have been. How would you feel if I set you up on some dates now?”

Slider made a face. “Listen man, I get it,” he insisted.

Ice shook his head, glaring at him. “I don’t think you do. I could have lost Mav this week, and that put things into perspective. He’s the only person I want to be with, Ron. To hell with the people gossiping on base. If they actually had any proof, I’d be looking for a new job right now.”

Ron sighed. “Fine man, I’ll drop it for now. But don’t get pissed if I ask again. I don’t want to see you get kicked out just because of your choice of idiot.”

*

Tom stared down at his phone, dumbstruck. Mav had actually hung up on him.

Without thinking, he dialed another number.

“What the fuck did you tell him?” he demanded as soon as he heard Slider’s voice.

“Woah Ice, what the hell?” Slider sputtered.

“What the hell did you say to Mav? He’s at the old crappy apartment he used to live in and he’s talking about going to Texas. You were supposed to bring him here, Ron.” Ice ran a hand through his hair, knowing he was being an ass to his best friend, but he was so frustrated he could scream.

“Listen man, I just told him what I told you months back. That you two needed to be careful because there was scuttlebutt on base. He’s the one who decided to go back to his apartment,” Slider said defensively. “I’m just trying to look out for you guys.”

“Yeah, but this is Pete Mitchell we’re talking about!” Ice exclaimed. “The man who will only fly alone and still thinks he doesn’t deserve a family. You think he would hear that, and decide to stick it to the man?”

He knew Mav would be pissed at him for saying any of it, but Tom couldn’t hold it in, so irritated and pissed and missing his wingman that the words just spewed out of him.

He heard Slider sigh. “I tried to get him to go back to your place, but he wanted to go back to his place,” he finally said. “Poor guy looked exhausted.”

Ice ran a hand over his face. “Fuck it, I’m going over there. I’m going to drag his short ass back over here. I’m not letting him exile himself at that shithole.”

“Good luck, man.”

Thirty minutes later, Tom sunk down onto Pete’s dusty couch. It was clear that Pete had barely been here, and was obviously gone now.

He looked around the small apartment. The walls were completely bare, and there was a layer of dust on everything. It had been at least a year since Mav had been here, probably longer. They had spent their last leave together at the house Ice had bought for them, fixing it up together. This apartment was supposed to be Mav’s on paper only, not a place he really stayed.

Tom’s heart broke a bit at the thought that Mav was willing to wait out his leave here in this lonely little space. He knew his wingman, knew he would have taken Slider’s news as a sign that he had to hide away, deny himself what he wanted. Tom and Mav had spoken on the phone before his transport back to the States, and Mav had been so happy to finally be coming home after almost a year away.

And Tom had planned out the night. He was going to take him out to dinner and then dancing at a friendly bar he had found a few towns over. Or, if Mav was too tired, he had rented a few movies for them to have a quiet night in. Anything would have worked, just as along as they were together.

But Mav’s tendencies to run and hide always seemed to strike at the worst times.

However, his wingman tended to be predictable in his hiding spots, and Tom knew just where to go next.

*

Mav startled off the couch at the rapid banging on the door. Groaning on the floor, he blearily looked around Carole’s living room, trying to get a sense of what was happening.

He had gotten in late last night, to Bradley’s excited squeals and Carole’s sad eyes. He had offered to crash on the couch due to the late hour and the exhaustion he felt in every bone in his body. Carole had acquiesced after chastising him.

“Jesus, Maverick,” she had hissed so Bradley wouldn’t hear. “You told me you wouldn’t be here until the morning. Did you stop at all?”

“Just for gas,” he told her lowly. “I decided to drive straight through.”

Carole had stared him down in disapproval before pulling him into a tight hug. “We’re going to talk more in the morning, mister,” she warned him. “But you get some sleep. You look like you can barely stand.”

And he had fallen straight down onto her new sectional couch, barely able to pull his boots off before he passed out into a dreamless sleep.

But now he was wide awake, his heart hammering as he stumbled over to the door, unsure of what time it was from the weak light coming in through the windows.

“C’mon, Mitchell, I see your bike out here,” a familiar voice called out.

Maverick hurried to the door, yanking it open to see Ice standing at the door, looking strangely rumpled in his civies and untidy hair. Upon seeing Maverick he relaxed slightly, the pinched look on his face softening.

“Ice?” Mav questioned softly, aware that Bradley and Carole were still (hopefully) sleeping upstairs. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ice shot back, shouldering his way into the house. Maverick closed the door behind him.

“I told you. I thought it would be best to stay here for my leave,” Mav said tiredly, running a hand down his face.

“That’s bullshit, Mav,” Ice hissed. He crossed his arms, looming over Maverick.

Mav raised his eyes at Ice. “How is it bullshit? I’m trying to save your career, our careers!” he whispered back heatedly, gesturing between them.

Ice glared at him coldly, and it struck Mav that this was the first time he had seen his partner in almost half a year. Ice looked tired, and his hair was a bit darker, but he was beautiful in the early morning light, even while staring at Maverick like he was the biggest idiot in the world.

“I never took you for a coward, Mitchell,” Ice said coldly. “You’re seriously going to let some gossip run you off?”

Mav looked towards the stairs again, swallowing down the anger that threatened to erupt. “How dare you,” he shot back softly. “I’m being the smart one, the safe one for once, and you’re going to call me a coward? Fuck you, Kazansky.”

Ice narrowed his eyes at him. “You don’t think I’m capable of handling myself? You already got yourself exiled for six months trying to do things your way. I’m not letting you make that decision for me now.”

Mav felt his hands tighten into fists. “You’re not the only one at risk!” he snarled. “I have a family to support, and I can’t do that if I’m dishonorably discharged!”

Ice shifted back as if he had been struck, his face paling. Mav stared at him hotly as Ice seemed to shift gears, swallowing roughly. “I’m not asking you to throw your career away,” he finally said evenly. “I’m asking that you don’t throw us away just because some people can’t mind their own fucking business.”

Pete rubbed his hands over his eyes roughly. “I’m not trying to break up with you Kazansky,” he said tiredly. “I’m just trying to lay low so this doesn’t have to become a conversation about what risks we’re willing to take.”

He heard Tom take a step forward, gently pulling his hands down. Pete blinked up at him. Ice was staring down at him tenderly, his blue eyes shining. “Pete, I love you,” he said simply, and Pete swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “I know that every time we come together it’s a risk, but we’ve made it this far. People have been whispering about me for years, yet here I am, a Commander in the Navy. We just have to keep being careful. That doesn’t mean we have to be apart.” He swallowed roughly before continuing. “I get that you were freaked out by what Slider said. But I almost lost you, a few months ago. I’m not going to let anything keep us apart if we have a chance to be together.”

Pete stared up at him, and Ice stared back unflinchingly. Finally, Pete nodded, and Ice pulled him into a hug, sagging in relief.

“God, Mitchell, you really scared me,” he breathed into Mav’s hair. “You vanished, and I was so scared you were just going to keep on running.”

Pete swallowed and stayed silent, because what could he say? He did run away, and had fully intended to hide out for his leave, and maybe his next, just to let the rumors die down. He was fully prepared to sacrifice his happiness just so Ice wasn’t kicked out, so that he didn’t lose his ability to provide for Carole and Bradley.

And Pete knew that was still a risk. He’d known that since 1991, when they finally agreed to give this a try beyond just falling into bed together.

But he was in love with Tom. Knew deep down that this was the man he was going to spend the rest of his life with given the opportunity. So he gave the only response he could.

“I won’t leave my wingman,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss above Tom’s heart.