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Symbols were stupid. Everyone had a symbol that was supposed to help them find their one and only, their true match. You would think that a symbol would be something meaningful, like a sun or a mountain top, except life was never that easy. Symbols were stupid and so were the soulmates attached to them. The very definition of a soulmate sounded like made-up crap, a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner, and you couldn't convince Maverick Mitchell otherwise.
The symbol was always an object and the parties in question would have no idea about it until it clicked. There was a science to it, a bogus science if you asked Maverick. Like what gender your soulmate might end up being if you met in spring versus fall. Whether or not you got a platonic or romantic soulmate depended on the symbol’s color. Connecting with your soulmate was different for everybody; gossip magazines abused the ever-loving light out of it. They would pitch the meeting of your soulmate as something magical, something out of a storybook romance. Covers would try and lure bystanders in with pretty sentences like:
“Your soulmate is an integral part of you, someone you'll meet when the time is right, someone you can be your most authentic self with.”
“Your soulmate is your other half, the one who completes you the way you complete them. Like fingerprints, no two soulmates are alike.”
“Your soulmate comes to you in clues of three, here’s how to recognize them.”
Sure, Maverick wouldn't mind meeting his soulmate, he just refused to deal with letting the stars align and everything clicks bullshit. Maverick despised that click with a passion, he couldn't get over how everyone painted it as something it wasn't. Growing up, he’d been fed stories about how your soulmate would complete you and allow you to blossom and be your true self. He didn't need any pompous soulmate to be himself, Maverick knew precisely who he was. A naval aviator and a damn good one at that.
Perhaps that’s what drew Maverick to Naval Aviation. On the ground, it gave him structure and a sense of purpose. Apart from feeling connected with a father he never knew, being up in the air gave him a sense of freedom. Being up in the air, away from any earthly attachments, made him feel as light as a bird. Up in the air, Maverick was in charge of his fate. Up in the air, he didn't have to face the judgemental looks of his peers.
As a child, Maverick was relentlessly bullied for being an orphan. Losing his mother to cancer after losing his father to war at age 3 and spending most of his childhood in different homes made him an outcast to other people. The freak that couldn’t understand love because he didn’t have someone. Maverick remembered his first crush. It was a boy in his first-grade class, a cute thing with blonde hair and freckles. The kid was the opposite of Maverick, he preferred to play indoors or read a good book, while Maverick wanted to climb trees or play sports. He’d played together with Maverick on occasion but eventually stopped and told him he had only played with Maverick out of pity.
No one stuck around long enough to give him a chance. A few weeks here, a couple of months there. None of the homes wanted him. He was too messy, too energetic, too weird, his hair unruly, and his teeth crooked. Something always made the foster homes turn their backs on Maverick. Perhaps he was meant to always be alone? Maverick learned quickly not to get attached, people only disappointed him in the end.
Maverick knew soulmates were real in theory, except it was different seeing it in practice. It was through the Navy he'd met Goose, the closest thing to a soulmate Maverick thought he’d ever have. Goose understood him better than he understood himself sometimes. No matter what, his RIO could always cheer him up with a few jokes and a pat on the back. Goose happily showed Maverick affection, a high five after a successful hop, or a hug at the end of the day.
Goose and his soulmate-turned-wife Carole were the picture-perfect image of a storybook romance, the disgustingly sweet one with love at first sight. Most people knew their soulmate before they realized who they were, of course, Goose and Carole were one of the rare exceptions who knew as soon as they met. Their symbol had been a song, 'Great Balls of Fire' out of all the songs in the world. Goose sat down to play the song at the local bar's piano and when Carole heard the music, meeting Goose's eyes for the first time, everything had just clicked. She described it as seeing her future in Goose's eyes, she saw warmth, comfort, and family.
It was why it hurt Maverick so badly when he almost killed Goose.
Duke and Cathleen Mitchell had been soulmates, meeting one fateful day when her car broke down. Cathleen's yellow vehicle ended up being their symbol, everything clicked as Duke helped her get the car started. When Duke died in the war, Cathleen had never been the same again, she claimed she’d lost touch with her senses. She became prone to snapping and breaking down into tears. Young Maverick described it as a raincloud constantly hanging over her head. She said the world seemed bleaker, the color of her car less vibrant.
How Carole ever forgave him was a mystery to Maverick. He blamed himself for the crash, the jetwash being another reminder of what a failure he was. One wrong move and Maverick would've left young Bradley fatherless, dooming him to the same fate Maverick suffered. He should've foreseen it, done extra scouting of the air, and communicated better with his wingman. Goose took the worst of the impact from the ejection, but he survived.
Every pilot worth their salt knew the rumors. The top of the line, the best of the best. Despite that, Top Gun wasn't like anything Maverick ever expected. He knew it'd be tough and competitive, however, in his aim for the trophy, he didn't think he'd have another run-in with death. Maverick held onto his dream of flying by the skin of his teeth. They graduated, finishing second and just missing the trophy, nonetheless, it didn't matter as long as Goose was okay.
Goose hadn’t fully recovered when the rest of them were deployed and stayed behind on doctor’s orders. The mission on board the USS Enterprise reminded Maverick again just how fragile life was and he wanted to spend as much time as he could with the little family he had. It was the very reason Maverick had decided to move closer to Goose and Carole. It wasn’t like he would find his soulmate any time soon.
Packing up his house had been easy, Maverick didn’t own many personal effects. It was the furniture that was the real challenge. To his surprise, Slider and Iceman volunteered to help him with the move.
The mission helped them put aside their differences and something resembling a friendship had fostered between them. Slider was easy to get along with when they weren’t competing for the trophy. His devil-may-care attitude was infectious and his jokes reminded Maverick of Goose. Iceman, his unofficial wingman, was trickier.
His cold, deadpan, sort of humor made it difficult for Maverick sometimes to tell whether or not he was joking. He wasn’t entirely sure if their previous animosity was gone, a part of him wondering if Ice only helped him out of pity.
Maverick’s house was sold almost immediately, the for-sale sign out in the yard had a fat red sticker on it that confirmed as much. The three of them sat outside on the front porch of his former home, drinking beer after a day of hauling furniture back and forth. He sat next to Iceman while Slider slouched on the lower steps of the porch.
“You should throw a party when everything’s set in the new house,” Slider said.
Maverick laughed, gesturing at the tall man with his beverage, “If you want more of this cheap beer you can just ask.”
“Are you telling me you don’t want free shit?” Slider snorted, finishing the rest of his beer in one go, “Housewarming parties aren’t about the beer, genius.”
“Free shit? It’s not a birthday party exactly.”
“I can’t believe this,” Slider turned to face Maverick directly, “Have you never moved Maverick? You always bring something to a housewarming party, it’s customary! Tell him, Ice.”
The blonde man’s eyes widened, caught off guard in the middle of a sip, and shook his head as if to say not to involve him in their discussion.
“I’ve probably moved more times than you can count, Sli,” Maverick said, “No one’s ever brought me a gift for moving in.”
“Bullshit. If that’s true we gotta change it.”
“What?”
Slider shrugged in response like it was already a done deal.
“Leave him alone, no one’s gonna wanna see Maverick’s decorating skills,” Ice finally piped up.
Maverick smacked his wingman on the shoulder in protest, causing the pair to burst out laughing. It had never occurred to him to throw a housewarming party or any kind of party for that matter. Maverick was the type of person who would rather go out if the occasion called for it, though he could understand the appeal. A party would also serve as an excuse for the class of '86 to get together one last time before their new deployments.
“Because of you I’m gonna subject everyone to my very modern decor, thank you very much.”
Ice pretended to groan in annoyance, except the smirk on his lips told him otherwise. Maverick gathered the now-empty beer bottles and went back into the house to throw them away. A few boxes remained indoors for the final trip back to the new house.
Maverick hadn’t packed his small collection of vinyl records or his portable radio. The radio had been going all day as they worked on clearing the place, playing everything from rock music to the latest pop single. Their different tastes in music caused them to have various discussions about what the best song or music genre was while carrying cardboard boxes.
He assembled another box to pack the records in, music still playing from the radio. A familiar upbeat melody played, and Maverick subconsciously bobbed his head along to the song. He was so focused on organizing the records that he didn’t notice Iceman joining him.
“Raspberry Beret? Really, Mitchell?”
Startled, Maverick glanced between the radio and his wingman. The strong, yet somehow soft, clear voice of Prince filled the room. Now he knew why he recognized the song, the string instruments, and accompanying female voice should’ve given it away. The song was called ‘Raspberry Beret’, telling the story of a teen romance with a girl who wore a raspberry-colored beret. It came out about a year ago and was still popular on the radio. A rush of deep, somber emotions ran through Maverick.
Growing up, his mother always wore a beret. Apparently, she’d bought it in a secondhand store, just like the girl in the song. It looked like a small raspberry, with its magenta-pink shade and tiny rhinestones sewn into it. The weather didn’t matter, she wore it day and night, through summer and winter. She always made her outfits work around the beret, and despite the obnoxious shade of pink, it mixed well with her toffee-colored hair.
Maverick remembered that he would sneak into his mother's room and try the beret on, but it never looked as pretty on him as it did on her. The first time she caught him, she'd laughed and kissed his cheek, allowing him to wear it if he promised to be gentle. She liked to joke that it was because of the beret he'd been put into this world, the beret being the first thing his father complimented her on after fixing her car.
“Didn’t take you for a Prince fan, Kazansky,” Maverick teased, diverting the attention from the nostalgia he felt.
Iceman snorted, waving his hand dismissively, “Hard not to be when they always play him on the radio.”
“Probably because he’s a good singer.”
“He’s okay. I prefer ‘Purple Rain’ anyways.”
“Mark my words Ice, ‘Raspberry Beret’ will be remembered as one of his finest songs!”
Iceman laughed, his hand clasping over Maverick’s shoulder. The touch was supposed to be kind and lighthearted, still, it set off something within Maverick. The spot on his shoulder burned, causing him to shiver slightly and his ears buzzed. So much so that he didn’t hear what Iceman said.
“What?”
“I asked if you wanted any help with that?” Iceman asked, motioning to the vinyl.
Maverick smiled, hoping that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t too visible, and nodded. Silence fell. Despite the developing friendship, at best he knew Ice on a surface level. It didn’t help that he felt nervous around his wingman, catching himself staring at the blonde man more often than he’d like to admit.
The day’s physical activity had given him more than a stellar view of Iceman, like the way his shirt curved around his biceps or the way his lean muscles moved while carrying the boxes. Maverick reminded himself that Ice was just doing him a favor, him and Slider.
”Hey, where’d your taller half go?”
“Slider went to return the truck. Figured my car should be enough for the last boxes.”
The record almost slipped out of Maverick’s hands. Something tightened in his stomach. He rented the truck for the very purpose of moving furniture, being cramped up in a car with Iceman wasn’t a part of his plan. It was like his senses heightened from being close to Ice, from the way his cologne smelled to the intensity of that icy blue stare.
“If you say so, driving my shit around means listening to my music anyways.” Maverick shrugged.
Iceman snorted, “Like hell it does, I’ve heard enough Prince to last me a lifetime.”
Maverick laughed, despite how tense he felt. There was something easy about the way he bantered with Iceman, a far cry from the animosity they’d shared in the hallways of Top Gun. Of course, they weren’t exactly best friends, but they were getting to know each other and it was… Nice.
“I meant what I said though. I’m gonna throw a housewarming party because of you.” Maverick smirked, pointing at Ice with one of the pieces of vinyl.
“You should if you want to.” Ice snatched the record out of his hands, arranging it with the others in the box. “Though I suggest talking to someone with more expertise than Slider. Maybe Carole could help out?”
“If I ask her it’ll be a full-blown cookout.”
It wasn’t anything bad. Carole’s warm and friendly personality made her a great host and Maverick had fond memories of the first Bradshaw cookouts he attended.
“What’s so bad about that? Just because you burnt a pot holder doesn’t mean everyone will.”
Maverick was never going to live that down, was he? Except it wasn’t Maverick’s fault the pot holder ended up on the hot stove. “Are you a secret chef or something, Ice?”
“Maybe not to impress someone, but I haven’t gotten any complaints,” Iceman scoffed.
Maverick hummed in response, wondering what dishes Iceman knew how to cook. Based on the many lunches they shared at Top Gun, Ice was the type of guy who ate to live, not live to eat. Slider wasn’t any better, sticking to his lean meat and vegetables to maintain his physique.
The box was filled with his records. Without even asking him to, Ice taped the box shut and hauled it out to his car. Maverick was left standing there, stunned for the moment.
Iceman had been helpful the whole day, Maverick assumed that it was just how Ice was, however, now that he thought about it he realized he’d done a lot more than he originally asked for. Ice reminded them to stay hydrated throughout the day, he went out to pick up the pizza they shared for lunch, and he assembled Maverick’s boxes without him asking for it. Maybe this was it, perhaps they were becoming friends at last?
He was pulled out of his thoughts by the honking of Ice’s car. Maverick grabbed the last of his things, including the radio which had stopped playing Prince a long time ago, and scrambled out the door. It felt a bit wistful to leave the house, he was a changed man since coming here for the first time and now he was moving on to the next chapter.
A few weeks later, the whole class of 1986 along with their significant others, gathered in Maverick’s new home for the party. He relented and asked Carole for help with preparations. She’d jumped on the task and now Maverick’s house looked like it hosted a party a lot more extravagant than it was. He couldn’t accuse Carole of not being creative though; balloons, good food, and music poured out of the house. Even Cougar had showed up with his wife and child, their kid playing happily with Bradley.
He and Carole agreed on making the party a potluck instead for convenience's sake. They’d set up a table in the garden for the food, and Goose made a joke about how they had enough food to feed the Navy. There was lasagna, casseroles, potato salad, coleslaw, various pies, and-
“Who brought the pierogi??”
Maverick was surprised to find the dish at his table. Chipper and Sundown stood next to him, having just plated up the dishes they brought, and they only shrugged in response. It must’ve been years since he last had some. They were on the smaller side and could easily be mistaken for ravioli because of their shape. He couldn’t tell for sure, but they looked fresh and homemade.
“I did.”
Maverick froze on the spot. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been as big of a surprise as it was, the name Kazansky wasn’t exactly the most American-sounding after all. Maverick turned around and met his wingman’s eyes with a look of wonder.
“You brought pierogi? Homemade?”
The taller man shrugged, though he looked a bit too pleased, “I told you I could cook.”
However, that didn’t answer Maverick’s question. Why would Ice go through the trouble of making homemade pierogi for his housewarming party? Spending hours folding the dough and filling it with ingredients was exhausting, Maverick should know since he’d done it before.
“Now, Mitchell, what I’d like to know is how you of all people know what pierogi is.”
Maverick ran a hand through his hair, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him, including Sundown and Chipper who had smirks of glee painted on their faces. It was a mistake to ask, now that Iceman knew he wouldn’t let it go that easy.
“Oh you know, I’ve been around. My palate is broader than you credit me for Kazansky.”
Chipper cackled and Maverick wished that they would leave. It was embarrassing enough that he had to face down Ice and his culinary skills, they didn’t have to bear witness to him making more of a fool of himself. Everyone knew the story of Duke Mitchell, though not all of them knew he grew up in foster homes.
“You’ve been around long enough to tell that they’re homemade. My grandmother would be proud if she heard that.”
Ice joined Maverick by the table, arms crossed above his chest, clearly expecting an answer with that don’t bullshit me look that he was known for.
“I uh-” Maverick had to swallow down a nervous cough, “One of the foster families I stayed with had Polish origin. Nice people, but I didn’t stick around too long. They used to make these once in a while. I… I never learned how to make them properly, I just know I like them.”
The Nowak family was one of the few that cared enough to make Maverick feel at home. They never judged him for his past, all that mattered to them was the present and that he did what he could to sort his life out. It was one of the rare times in his life where he’d felt at peace, until eventually when the family had to move away. Maverick wasn’t allowed to join and the process repeated.
“Maybe all hope isn’t lost on you then Maverick.” Ice smiled and nodded towards the table, “I’m curious though if you’ve had this type of pierogi.”
Ice grabbed one of the disposable plates, loaded it up with a few pierogi and a serving of some white sauce, and handed it over to Maverick. He glanced between Ice and the other pilots, a look of skepticism on his face. Did they expect him to eat it right here and now? Had Ice put something in the food? Would he be met with some unflattering mix of spices and overcooked meat? Ice only tilted his head to the side, a slight smirk on his lips.
Oh well, Maverick never backed down from a challenge. He grabbed a plastic fork, loaded it with the pierogi that appeared the thickest, and dipped it in the sauce. Whatever flavor he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.
It tasted aromatic, sweet yet somehow tart at the same time. Strawberries for sure, the dough was soft, melting on his tongue, and the juice of the berry poured down his chin when he bit down. The white sauce turned out to be sour cream and its slight sourness brought all of the flavors together, something Maverick never would’ve expected but it tasted amazing. Iceman’s pierogi were the very opposite of the savory meat ones Maverick had tasted before.
“This… This is delicious.” Maverick didn’t know for how long he chewed, Iceman had started to look nervous, “You made this? From scratch?”
The previous smug look on his wingman’s face turned into something sheepish, he almost seemed shy. Except Iceman had no reason to be, the ice-cold no-mistakes seemed to apply to his cooking as well.
“I had some help from my sister, she’s the better cook out of the two of us.” Ice rubbed at his neck, “Don’t tell her I served you some, she’ll say you messed up your appetite by starting with dessert.”
“She can say whatever she wants, these are amazing.” Maverick dug into the other pierogies, lathering them with the sour cream. “She’s coming here?”
“Yeah, I invited her. Carole did give everyone a plus one.” Iceman laughed, “Sara said she wanted to meet the ones who saved my life at the Enterprise.”
Sundown and Chipper, both intrigued by Maverick’s reaction to Iceman’s dish, made a headstart on the food and helped themselves to some pierogi. Iceman scowled, snatching the plates out of their hands.
“Hey, those are supposed to last-”
“Tomek!”
If his mouth hadn’t been full of food, Maverick would’ve burst out laughing right then and there. Watching the Iceman freeze up, a pained expression on his face, was something he never wanted to forget. Maverick turned around to greet the source of Iceman’s cringing when suddenly, the time came to a stop, and everything blurred.
All he saw was pink. Waves of toffee-colored hair. A beret.
His stomach tightened, head spinning with something eerily similar to vertigo, an electric spark going through him. There was a tug, like an external force making him turn around, and his green eyes met deep blue ones.
Whatever Maverick felt, he knew Iceman experienced it as well. Those expressions he’d previously found so hard to read were like an open book now. Iceman’s cold and deadpan humor was just a defense, he didn’t like to let people in, that much was clear now. The slight blush on the top of Ice’s high cheekbones said that he was intrigued, very intrigued.
A chill ran down Maverick’s spine as kept looking into those sapphire eyes. He saw wide open oceans, thrashing with adventure, but he also saw warmth and stability, and… everything clicked.
Oh, oh.
No way, ain’t no goddamn way. Iceman was his soulmate? Maverick stared with disbelief, unable to tear himself away from Iceman. They could have been standing there for hours for all he knew, no one around them noticed how their entire center of gravity had shifted. Until a gentle hand on his shoulder brought him out of the trance-like state.
“You must be Maverick!”
Sara Kazansky stood in front of him, right in front of Iceman, and the only resemblance she bore with her brother was the blue eyes. Her curled hair framed her small face and with the heels, she was the same height as Maverick. She extended a hand which he lamely shook, his instincts making him want to look for Ice. The taller man was long gone, disappearing somewhere back into the house, leaving Maverick to deal with his sister.
“Indeed I am. Ice has told me so much about you-” Sara scoffed and waved her hand dismissively, the mannerisms so similar to Ice, “No really! We were just talking about how delicious your pierogies are. I’ve never had them as a dessert.”
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them, even if it’ll spoil your appetite.” She chuckled, “Tomek has a knack for folding the dough, couldn’t have done it without him.”
Was Tomek Ice’s full name? Tom was a common shortening. He realized how little he knew about his wingman, his soulmate, and he wanted to ask Sara so many questions. An awkward silence fell between them, Maverick opened and closed his mouth, pondering what to say.
“This is gonna sound weird, but where’d you get that beret?” Maverick asked, hoping he came off as nothing more than curious.
It wasn’t identical to the one his mother had worn, the rhinestones were missing and Sara’s was a brighter shade of pink. She touched the beret, a fond smile on her lips, “Our mom gave it to me, said it would look prettier on me. I think she bought it in a secondhand store.”
To Maverick’s luck, Sara was whisked away by Carole to greet some of the other guests, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Of course, the beret would end up becoming his symbol, it had to be something sentimental like that. It held value to both him and Ice, and now in hindsight, he realized all of the clues that he previously dismissed. Both of their mothers bought their berets in a secondhand store, listening to the Prince song together, Ice cooking pierogies without knowing Maverick’s attachment to them.
The rest of the party went by in a haze. Maverick went on autopilot, smiling and acting his part, though he wasn’t into any of the conversations happening. Iceman eventually came back and he wouldn’t look in Maverick’s direction at all, staying close to Slider the entire time. He couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. Was the idea of him being Iceman’s soulmate that bad?
Toward the end of the evening, Maverick excused himself to go to the bathroom. He’d just finished opening the housewarming gifts, receiving a lot more plants than he expected when he found Sara and Ice having a hushed conversation in the kitchen.
The agitation was as clear as day on Iceman’s voice, and whatever Sara said seemed to be in vain. Maverick couldn’t understand a word of what they said, it sounded like a mixture of French and Russian to him. He assumed that they were speaking in Polish, which was another thing he didn’t know about his so-called soulmate…
“Maverick?”
It was Sara who spoke, spotting him standing in the doorway. Her blue eyes focused on him, the kindness and sympathy shining through. Iceman visibly tensed up at the mention of his name.
Maverick gestured weakly towards the bathroom, “I was just-”
The air around him was suffocating and he made a beeline for the front door. Maverick couldn’t take it anymore. If Ice wasn’t even going to look at him then what was the point? A firm hand gripped his wrist, stopping him from going any further. His green eyes went from the hold, then up and met those bright blues again. Ice let go immediately as if the touch had burned him.
“Take a drive with me.”
It wasn’t a question. He looked at Sara, who only ushered them out the door, saying that she’d take care of it. Iceman’s car was parked in the driveway and soon they were on the road again. It hadn’t been too long since they were in a car together, the sun was setting just like it had that day, and now everything was different. Their relationship would never be the same again.
Iceman’s hands clutched on the steering wheel, knuckles white, eyes glued on the road, his chest rising heavily. Their emotions had tuned in with each other and Maverick knew what Iceman was feeling. Before, he would’ve wondered what had pissed Ice off, but now, he knew that wasn’t the case. Ice was scared, perhaps even more so than he was.
They ended up parked by the beach, it was nearly empty, families packing up after a day of fun. A day without life-changing events.
“I’m sorry,” Maverick blurted out.
“What?” Iceman turned to look at him, his eyes full of concern.
Maverick turned away, he couldn’t stand to look at him. “I’m sorry it’s me.”
A sharp intake of breath. Maverick tried to put some space between them, mentally putting up walls, he didn’t want to channel Ice’s emotions. He didn’t want to feel the rejection, not again. Charlie, the closest thing he had to a relationship in years, dumped him as soon as she could and left for another city. Iceman didn’t want him, just like everybody else. Maverick unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, his instincts telling him to run, to find safety.
The warm air hit him in the face, the hot California temperature ruthless even in the evenings. Maverick headed for the road, hoping to hail a cab to take him home. It was a mistake to join Iceman, he probably didn’t want to reject Maverick in front of their friends. Being soulmates didn’t mean you had to be friends, there were cases of soulmates rejecting each other, however, you’d always be drawn to one another.
“Maverick, wait!”
He heard Iceman call out after him. Begrudgingly, Maverick turned around to face Iceman. They must look like something out of a rom-com, standing in the middle of the parking lot with Iceman chasing him. The only comfort came from seeing that this was just as hard on Iceman as it was for him.
"You… you don't have anything to apologize for. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way."
An apology? From Iceman? Maybe the heat was getting to him.
"It's not your fault. You don't choose your soulmate. Two-thirds end up being platonic anyways."
Iceman raised an eyebrow, "You've studied this, haven't you?"
Maverick shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. Sure he'd studied it, just like he knew that if your symbol was a warm color, your soulmate would likely become romantic. Pink was right in the middle, so it was a fifty-fifty chance of this going either way.
"Can we- Can we not have this conversation here?" Iceman motioned toward the beach. "You might not care about getting run over, but I do."
There it was, the familiar bantering that kept them on the edge throughout Top Gun. Based on the look on his face, Ice was extending an olive branch, hoping that Maverick would feel safe enough to talk to him. Relenting, Maverick followed him down to the beach, keeping a distance while Ice found them somewhere to sit.
On the other side of the beach, there was a small bench, partially covered in sand. Meticulous as he was, Ice brushed off as much of it as he could, motioning for Maverick to join him. The sun stood low on the sky now, another hour and it would be dark out. Seagulls screeched in the distance. Mav sat down on the opposite side of the bench, pointedly keeping his eyes on his knees.
“I like you Maverick.”
Mav whipped his head up, glaring with wide eyes at the blonde man. Iceman sat hunched on the bench, hands in his lap, only glancing over at Maverick when he didn’t say anything. He probably wanted to make sure Maverick wouldn’t escape again.
“I have for a while now.”
It was rare for Maverick to be at a loss for words. He tried to look for any sign of deception or lies on Iceman’s face yet he couldn’t find any. All Maverick saw was sincerity and a layer of vulnerability, Iceman wasn’t used to showing his emotions so openly.
“Why-” Maverick swallowed, “Why haven’t you said anything?”
Iceman looked up at him, a weak smile on his lips, eyes squinting from the sun, “Do you even have to ask?”
“Hey, if I knew the answer, I wouldn’t bother.”
“Because of Charlie.” Iceman sighed. He focused his attention on his shoes this time, brushing away some of the sand that had gotten stuck. “I’m not a homewrecker, Maverick. I was okay with just being your friend except now I- now I don’t know.”
Maverick was shocked, to say the least, to hear that the guy who snatched the Top Gun trophy from under his nose had a crush on him-
“You said you didn’t like me!” Maverick exclaimed incredulously, “You said it to my face, in the locker room.”
“Well, I lied.” Iceman retorted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought if I could put some distance between us, maybe the feelings would go away. But they didn’t.”
Maverick thought back to all of their encounters at Top Gun. Like their first meeting at the O-Club, Ice’s subtle remarks about who the better pilot was. Iceman coughing ‘bullshit’ under his breath in class when Maverick explained the encounter with the MiGs. The way Iceman had been all up in his face, snapping his teeth at him like some sort of animal. How Iceman apologized for causing the jet wash. Maverick ran a hand through his hair. He’d have to be blind to say that Iceman wasn’t pretty, it just didn’t occur to him that someone like Ice could be interested in him, let alone not straight.
“We were never official, Charlie and I,” Maverick muttered. He scooted closer yet not enough that they were touching. “She got a job offer out of town and I haven’t seen her since. Truth be told, I can’t say that I missed out.”
Iceman glanced up at him, a sliver of hope shining in his blue eyes. Maverick didn’t know what compelled him to do so, yet he placed a hand on Iceman’s shoulder, rubbing soothing circles against the fabric of his clothes. He felt like a fool now for how he’d behaved, Iceman always brought out the worst in him.
“So the beret, huh? I thought my symbol would be something much cooler than that,” Maverick said with a faint smile on his lips.
“Honestly, I didn’t even know Sara still had that. I haven’t seen her wear it in years.” Iceman chuckled, “What was your connection-”
“My mother, she also had a beret like that,” Maverick answered, sensing what the question might be. “But hers had rhinestones sewn into them, definitely brought the raspberry look together.”
Iceman sat up, body facing Maverick and smiling brightly at him. It was the same, happy and victorious, smile Ice gave him out on the tarp after their mission. Why had it taken Maverick so long to appreciate how gorgeous Tom Kazansky was? Full, round lips. High cheekbones, a sharp sculpted jawline. For once, Ice hadn’t styled his hair to stand up, instead, it was swept back and curled to the side of his head.
A strand of hair hung loose on Iceman’s forehead, which made him look even more endearing. Maverick reached out, sweeping the strand back into place, while also running his hand through Iceman’s blonde locks.
“Is Tomek your full name?”
“No, it’s a… it’s a nickname” Iceman followed his hand movements, his breath hitching when Maverick touched his hair. “There’s abbreviations in Polish, Tom becomes Tomek. Sara insists on calling me that.”
Maverick stifled a laugh. It was embarrassing for Iceman however there was something sweet about watching him so flustered.
“Is there a nickname for Pete?”
“Pete comes from Peter, right?”
Maverick nodded.
“In Polish, your name would be Piotr. If you wanna make a short version of it it’s ‘Piotrek’, but I think ‘Piotruś’ would suit you better.”
“How so?”
Iceman smirked, “It’s more accurate to ‘Maverick’.”
“Hey!” Maverick protested. He let his hand fall and traced his fingers along Iceman’s shoulder. “What did you talk to Sara about? Before I came in.”
“I asked for advice. If I should tell you the truth or just leave it alone.”
“What did she say?”
“She… She told me to stop thinking so much. If it was meant to be, it’ll happen.”
Silence fell between them. The beach shone in the light from the setting sun, covering them in a warm orange glow. Iceman’s skin looked radiant, so soft and inviting. Maverick felt his stomach tighten again and this time he realized it wasn’t out of nervousness. It was sheer joy and butterflies fluttering in there. If it was meant to be, it’d happen.
“So, what happens next, Kazansky?”
He tried to sound as cocky as he should, except it was impossible with those piercing blue eyes looking back at him. Eyes that told him his future with Ice would be filled with warmth, stability, and a promise of adventure. Maybe even love. Maverick knew now that his previous admiration for his wingman came from the attraction. His soulmate was a tall glass of water and then some. Iceman cupped his jaw, the touch delicate but carrying all of the emotional weight. Maverick closed his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush. When Iceman spoke, he was only a breath away.
“Whatever you want Mave-rick…”
Pressing their lips together for the first time, felt like biting into a fresh, perfectly ripe, fruit. Consuming, satisfying. Iceman tasted like strawberries. Sweet, with a light sting, he would’ve called it sour, however, that wasn’t Ice. His hand graced across his jaw, making its way to Maverick’s neck, holding him in a steady grip.
Maverick moved forward, pressing himself to the warm body that kept him grounded. An arm snuck around his waist, wrapping him into a tight embrace. Before meeting Ice, before realizing what they were to each other, Maverick couldn’t have dreamed of someone opening up and holding him so tenderly, like he was something precious. The final piece of the puzzle fell into place.
By the time they pulled away from each other, the sun had completely set. It was getting late and they had to get back before Carole or Goose sent out a search party. Iceman rested his forehead against Maverick’s, the arm remained wrapped around his waist. They were both reluctant to let go.
Maverick gave Ice a small parting kiss, earning a smug laugh from his soulmate’s lips.
“What?”
“You’re still dangerous.”