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“Oh, and who is this tall drink of water?” Mav murmured, trailing his hand over his husband’s uniformed shoulders and leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. Ice huffed at him, and met his eyes with the tiniest of smiles. Wordlessly, he took Mav’s hand with his free one and led them over to a side table so he could put down his glass. Once free, he lifted his hands to sign.
“Could say the same to you, M-A-V,” he said with a smirk.
“I knew this whole shebang was just an excuse to get me in dress blues! I knew it!”
Ice rolled his eyes and sipped on his water, looping an arm around Mav’s waist as they turned to survey the room. The assembled aviators milled about in the TOPGUN hangar, socializing. Cyclone was conversing with Warlock, the latter recently fitted with his new star and new posting, and another admiral. Those few members of the dagger squad that had been able to secure a few days of leave to attend the promotion ceremony, Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, Fanboy, Coyote, Harvard, and Yale, were milling about, though most of them had congregated near the buffet that Ice had just steered Mav away from.
“It’s a good turnout,” Mav murmured at his side, echoing Ice’s thoughts.
Ice smiled, putting his drink down again and freeing his hands. “Of course it is. They’re here for you.”
Mav shrugged. “Still.”
Ice shook his head fondly. His husband continued to underestimate the number of lives he touched on a daily basis. He nudged Mav to get his attention back and then signed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t give the speech out loud.”
It was Mav’s turn to shake his head, reaching out to squeeze Ice’s bicep. “That doesn’t matter to me, Ice. You know that.”
“It matters to me. I’m sorry.”
“Ice, honey. It’s okay. Your health is more important. Besides, if it’s really that important to you, you can give me the speech some other time at home,” he said, smiling impishly in the way that always made Ice want to kiss him.
“Of course. You wouldn’t want to miss out on another moment where I stroke your ego and assure you you’re one of the best pilots I’ve ever had the fortune of knowing?”
“Only one of the best?” Mav pushed, teasingly.
Ice rolled his eyes. “Take what you can get, hotshot.”
Mav laughed and leaned up to press another kiss to Ice’s cheek. “Alright come on, Mr. Glacier. Enough sulking in this corner. Time to mingle.”
Ice grumbled, but let himself be led by his husband again, as they made their way over to where the daggers were. Some of them visibly straightened when they noticed Ice, which made him smile a bit. Mav took one look at him and rolled his eyes.
“You’re incorrigible, Ice.”
Ice just smiled even wider.
“Hey, Mav!” Rooster greeted when they made their approach, pulling Mav into a brief hug. The rest of them chorused a greeting, and Rooster continued, stroking over the lapels of Mav’s dress blues like he was brushing off invisible dust. “So, how’s it feel? Heavier, maybe?”
Mav rolled his eyes. “Not yet. I’m sure it’ll hit though.”
A new voice interjected from behind them, “Yeah, well. Don’t come to me when you’ve got an issue, Maverick. I’ve done my time.”
Mav whirled around, and his jaw dropped when he made eye contact with Retired Rear-Admiral Mike Metcalf. “Viper!”
“Hey, kid,” Viper grinned. “Congrats.”
Mav’s smile got bigger and he took a few steps forward to pull his old CO into a hug. “I didn’t know you’d made it out!”
Viper pulled back with an easy shrug. “Well, your husband sent me the invite, but neither of us was really sure if I would get out here in time. Managed it, in the end, clearly. How are you, Tom?”
Ice smiled at him, reaching out to shake his hand. He inclined his head from side-to-side to signify “been better, been worse”, and Viper nodded in understanding.
“Well don’t strain yourself on my account. You did good with that speech, even if you had to delegate it.”
“That’s what I told him!” Mav cried triumphantly, and Viper chuckled, wrapping an arm over Mav’s shoulders to squeeze briefly. They both looked at Ice with identically raised eyebrows and Ice sighed, shaking his head.
“You should listen to Mav, for once.”
“Hey!” Mav turned to his pseudo-father in mock offense, frowning at him. Behind them, Rooster barked a laugh. It reminded them they weren’t alone in that moment, and Viper turned to assess the rest of the aviators, most still standing in parade rest.
“Well, well, Bradley Bradshaw,” Viper started. Rooster gulped nervously, but Viper assuaged him with a smile. “You’re taller even than your old man was, I’d reckon.”
Rooster smiled a little and held a hand out to shake. “Hey, Viper.”
“What’s that? I’m demoted? Are you too cool to hug your grandfather?”
Rooster blushed and folded over to wrap Viper into a hug. From behind him, the daggers made surprised noises.
“If only I’d known during basic,” Hangman muttered. “The amount of nepo baby jokes I could have made…”
Fanboy giggled. “This goes beyond just nepo baby, Hangman. He’s got a whole nepo lineage going on.”
Rooster broke from the hug to whirl around and glare at Hangman. “Seresin, you have no room to talk. Mav’s basically adopted all of you anyway.”
Mav shrugged when all eyes turned to him. “He’s not wrong. You all know where the spare key to my house is, that’s pretty much adoption as far as I’m concerned.”
Ice rolled his eyes and signed, “Once again, I’m not consulted.”
“You married him, kid,” Viper said with a snort.
“And there are no take-backs allowed!” Mav cried with a cheeky grin. Ice had no choice but to roll his eyes and kiss his husband on the forehead.
Mav’s motorcycle rumbled as he pulled into the driveway. Ice smiled, sitting on the couch with a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of him, and continued leafing through the book he’d been making steady progress on for the last week. Ice had left after the conclusion of the ceremony, but Mav had been drawn into more celebration by the daggers and they headed off to continue the night at the Hard Deck. That suited Ice fine, and he’d been able to decompress in peace.
Peace that was certainly broken as Pete clomped into the house from the garage, keys jingling as he dropped them into the bowl and then made his way into the kitchen, calling out in greeting as he did so. Tom murmured a greeting back, hoarse, but strong, and was rewarded with Pete’s beaming grin when his face popped into view around the doorway.
“Sounds like you’re feeling better!” He said and dimpled again before disappearing and going back to whatever he was doing in the kitchen. Ice shook his head fondly at the ruckus. He got his answer to what his husband was up to when Pete dropped down on the couch across from him with a bowl of cereal in his hands. Unceremoniously, he also received a lapful of Pete’s feet, which successfully diverted his attention from the words on the page to his husband. His arched eyebrow was only met with a cheeky grin around a mouthful of cocoa puffs.
“How was the rest of your night?” Tom asked, freeing his book and placing it on the coffee table.
“It was good,” Pete smiled. “Penny didn’t let me pay for anything, so I’ll be donating some funds later. In the name of fixing up the back porch she’s been complaining about, of course.”
Tom chuckled. “Of course.”
Pete continued eating his cocoa puffs, and Ice propped his elbow on the top of the couch, resting his head in his hand, and watched him. Pete was staring off into the distance slightly, most likely out of the windows into the front lawn, but eventually, he came back to himself and noticed Tom’s eyes on him. He stopped mid-chew and blinked back at him. “What?”
Tom shrugged. “Just impressed you’ve managed to keep the dress blues on this long without losing something. You look nice.”
Pete blushed. “Thank you. So do you.”
“Just take the compliment, baby.”
“Sorry. Or, well, not sorry for complimenting you back. ‘Cause it’s true, you do look nice, comfortable. Soft, I guess, I–”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Well, that was a hardship Tom was willing to bear, so he leaned over, took the still half-filled bowl of cereal out of his husband’s now-slack grip, placed it out of harm’s way, took Pete’s face in his hands, and kissed him. Pete tasted of chocolate and stale beer, they both smiled into the kiss, and it was perfect.
“You know,” Pete murmured teasingly, pulling back briefly. “I believe I was promised a speech.”
Tom raised a single eyebrow, and then cleared his throat, prepared to play along. “Over the years I’ve known–”
Pete slapped a hand over Tom’s mouth, dissolving into giggles. His head dropped to the side, resting against the back of the couch. “I was kidding, honey, I was kidding.”
But Tom, in a fit of sudden inspiration, wasn’t done. He pressed his mouth to the stretch of skin that Mav’s new angle provided him and spoke. “Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, he’s proven time and time again what the word dedication means,” he continued, pressing the words into Pete’s skin like a promise, like a vow. His husband laughed again, slightly breathlessly, and tried to push Tom away, but he pressed his nose into the junction between his husband’s neck and shoulder and refused, with all his weight, to be moved.
“Tom,” Pete warned.
Tom just grinned, and he knew Pete could feel it with the way he squirmed. “I’m proud of you, Pete. I need you to know it.”
“Of course I know it, Tom.”
“But I need you to know it. Let me have this, please?”
Pete sighed, and Tom knew he’d won with the way the tension bled out of him. Then, a second later, there were lips in his hair and Pete’s murmured assent. He’d gotten his wish, as he knew he would, so he pressed his speech, pressed his love, into every part of Pete’s skin well into the night, even as his husband started blinking drowsily at him in their bed. All Tom could do in return was smile, run his fingers through Pete’s hair, and kiss him again. He continued to hold him close, and found himself repeating the lines that were the most important into the darkness. The ones that reiterated how much of an asset Pete was to the Navy, how much pride Tom had for him, how much pride everyone who’d ever worked with Pete had for him. And when each line was met only with soft snores, he murmured one final good night and allowed himself to fall asleep as well. Though his vocal cords might not like him in the morning (the tea earlier that night had helped, but not enough to bring him back all the way), he couldn’t help but smile. It was worth it. It would always be worth it.