Work Text:
Most people only met somebody for the first time once. Mav, on the other hand, met Iceman Kazansky twice. Here’s how.
After three days of challenging stares, antagonistic smirks, cozy posturing, and sarcastic quips, Mav was beginning to loathe his RIO’s old Academy buddy. He told Goose as much, to which Goose just shrugged and said that Ice was sort of an acquired taste. And that he was slightly less of an asshole when they were younger, that he’d had his reasons to turn out the way he did, and that was all Goose was willing to divulge before putting the clamp on that ‘friendship confidentiality’ policy that he held like the honorous motherfucker he was.
Mav didn’t believe him for a second, and again, he told him as such, to which Goose just shrugged and parted ways for the night, saying he needed to call Carole before it got too late in Virginia. Mav let him go and ventured into his own unit, trying to settle down.
But he was keyed up, frustrated from a full day of bickering with Kazansky, and the new environment was bugging him. He’d already scented the place three times since they got there and it still didn’t feel like claimed space. He also hadn’t shifted outside of scent-marking the housing, and it was beginning to grate on him.
So he opened a window, shed his clothes, shifted, and hopped through the space, out onto the open space of San Diego. Anyone who saw him would just see a small stray cat minding it’s business as he passed.
What most people didn’t know was just how common animal shifters were. Mav had met others from time to time in passing. It was a rare DNA mutation that stemmed back to one bloodline, a family of born magic-users who could conjure familiars, and one witch specifically who messed up a spell and turned herself into a shifter. From there, it permeated it’s way through the human race with little rhyme, reason, or explanation. In all reality, it was probably about as common of a phenomenon as people with vitiligo or albinism. It just wasn’t as outwardly apparent.
The other shifters Mav had met had ranged from an infirmary medic who shifted into a chocolate Labrador and worked as a covert service animal for distressed patients to a woman he hooked up with one night on shore leave and woke the next morning to find a chinchilla curled up on his chest. He’d met four in total, the other two being a snake and a tree frog. Though, if he remembered his childhood accurately, his mother was sometimes a fennec fox.
Mav, in shifter form, was one of the more inconspicuous animals. He couldn’t imagine trying to shift and enjoy some time in nature as a boa constrictor, especially not on a Naval base. But his form could easily fly under the radar.
When Mav was shifted, he was a very small black cat, with bright green eyes, pointed ears, and fluffy fur. He was so small, in fact, that most people mistook him for a kitten at first glance. His tendency to explore at dusk made it even easier to slip by undetected, his dark fur blending him in with the shadows. The first time Carole had seen his cat form, she’d cooed and called him a little puff of smoke. Henceforth, the Bradshaws had taken to referring to him as Smokey while in cat form, with a playful little twist of a smirk every time they said it.
This night in particular, Mav was on the prowl for a park where he could burn some energy. Maybe catch a field mouse and save himself the trouble of cooking dinner. It didn’t take him long to wander off base, and the beach was the easiest way to cover ground fast, since he didn’t like crossing roads and he’d prefer to avoid it as much as possible.
What couldn’t have been more than half a mile off of base, down an open stretch of beach, he happened upon a figure sat on a bench. Now, he had very good vision in low lighting as a consequence of his cat form but it was a new moon, so there was little light to offer and even his enhanced vision could barely see. All he could tell was there was a person sitting on the bench.
They don’t say ‘curiosity killed the cat’ for no reason, because Mav was curious. He really just wanted to get a closer look, assuming they wouldn’t notice his tiny body in the dark of the night as he draw closer, but the sand must’ve made a sound or something because the person’s head turned to look in his direction. Mav didn’t take into account the distant lights from the Naval base behind him until they cast the stranger’s face in light, at the exact moment the man saw him. There, on the beach with a woefully lonesome slump to his shoulders and a forlorn expression on his face, was the Iceman.
When Kazasnky saw him, his face brightened a little and Mav’s instinct was to bristle until he realized that Ice had no way of knowing Mav was the cat that wandered by on the beach. Ice leaned down, holding an offering hand out low to the ground and making a soft, luring clicking sound with his tongue.
“Hi, kitty,” he spoke with a softer, gentler tone than Mav had even thought he could speak in, trying to coax him closer. Mav was intrigued, so he stepped closer.
“Oh, you’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you?” Ice cooed, tilting his head as Mav came close enough for him to properly see. If Mav was in human form, he would’ve rolled his eyes.
Ice continued to click his tongue, waving his hand in a slight beckon so Mav inwardly sighed and moseyed closer. “What are the chances?” Ice mumbled to himself. Mav finally approached close enough for Ice to reach him, so Ice stuck his hand out, allowing Mav to sniff him. Only once Mav had sniffed at his hand curiously for a moment did Ice start petting his head.
And Mav would never admit to this, even under oath, but Ice’s hands were soft and soothing as they stroked over his head and down his back with practiced ease.
He stroked under his chin, making Mav purr involuntarily, and Ice chuckled, “What is a sweet thing like you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
Mav obviously couldn’t answer so he just leaned into the offered pets. “Slider’ll tell me I’m seeing shit again when I get back and tell him about you,” Ice said, stroking his thumb over Mav’s whiskers, “I’d take you back with me but there’s no pets allowed in our housing and even if there were, we’ll be back out in the middle of the ocean in a few weeks.”
Mav opened his eyes, staring at Ice in a way that he hoped conveyed the fact that he needn’t worry, still leaning into the gentle pets. “You’re certainly not scared,” Ice chuckled, “Friendlier than most strays I’ve seen, that’s for sure.”
Ice pulled his hand away, sitting back up on the bench and tipping his head back, closing his eyes, “Fuck, I’m gonna pay for this tomorrow,” he groaned. Mav tilted his head, meowing in question, pawing at the legs of Ice’s pants.
Ice laughed, “Alright, alright,” he leaned down, picking Mav up under his shoulders, groaning under his breath, “I’m gonna regret this but you’re just too damn cute.” ‘Cute’ was one step too far for Mav, who hissed and playfully batted at Ice’s wrist the moment he sat him down in his lap. His claws weren’t extended, so he really just swiped at his hand, but the point of the gesture was made.
“Okay, okay,” Ice laughed, holding his hands up in surrender, “Alright, calm down.”
He returned to cautiously petting at Mav’s body, eliciting a pleased purr from Mav as Mav settled into his lap. It’s not like anybody had to know he cuddled up with his rival, not that Mav would’ve ever guessed the Iceman had a soft spot for cats, of all things.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Ice sneezed and Mav peered up at him in question. One sneeze turned into three and when he stopped, he tipped his head back and groaned out, “Fuck.” His voice sounded significantly more nasally than it had before.
Mav stared at him, realization dawning, and when Ice met his eyes, he must’ve been able to read the ‘you dumbass’ scrolling across Mav’s brain because he groaned again, “Oh, you shut up, this is your fault.”
‘No,’ Mav thought, ‘It’s yours for playing with a cat when you are apparently allergic. Y’know, like an idiot.’
Ice groaned again, bringing his hands to his face as if that wasn’t gonna make it worse, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, “Shit, I’m out here moping like some pathetic, forlorn lover and then a cat finds out out of nowhere so what do I do? I pet it! Why did I pet it?!”
Mav knew he was talking to himself more than anything, but he stood up in Ice’s lap, kneading at the squish of his thigh.
“Because’s it’s cute,” Ice said, head still tipped back, “That’s fucking why, because my one fucking weakness is cats, why do I do this to myself?” He groaned again, “Fuck, tomorrow’s hop is gonna be a nightmare.”
Suffice to say, Mav didn’t join in on the ribbing in the next locker room session when Ice and Slider came stomping in after Jester got tone on them. He did, however, get defensive the next day when Ice made a point of telling him just how dangerous he was. Part of him wanted to snap back that he wasn’t so dangerous when Ice just couldn’t resist petting him, but he wasn’t that petty. Or stupid enough to reveal his own secret.
The pair of them remained firmly at odds until another week went by, the weekend came, and Mav just had to burn some energy. He shifted and started darting around base, trying to find any mice lingering nearby, and just overall wreaking havoc in the shadows.
By mere happenstance, he happened upon Slider and Ice’s housing, a little way’s past Goose and his own, since Hollywood and Wolf and Sunny and Chipper were in between them. He was going to pass by undetected in the dim light of the evening but the strong scent of tobacco lured him closer. In human form, he hated the stuff unless he was so on edge that he was about to twitch apart, but as a cat, the more floral notes came out in the smoke and it smelled delightfully herbaceous rather than acrid. Frankly, he was also curious who in their midst was apparently a smoker, and whether they’d been pushed over the edge by stress or if they just regularly smoked. Y’know, like an idiot, considering aviators really needed healthy lungs to stay in the air without passing out.
When he rounded the corner, masked behind grass and therefore hidden, he saw Ice leaning on the railing of the back patio, staring off into the sunset with a bank stare, sucking down the smoke from a cigarette as if it was the very answer to life itself. At his feet, Mav spotted several other snuffed buds. Chain-smoking then. No wonder his RIO had taken the man under his wing in the early years of Mother Goose, the other pilot was a total dumbass.
Mav rumbled deep in his chest, not quite a growl but a displeased sound nonetheless, wishing he could shift back and lecture the man on the hypocrisy of calling him a risk for taking chances in the air and then compromising the health of one of the most important bodily functions that a fighter pilot could have. The ability to breathe while flying Mach 2 and pulling six Gs. Not that he was concerned, no, certainly not. Kazansky was a grown man and he could do as he pleased. Even if Mav called him an idiot for it.
His sound drew Ice’s attention, his blue eyes snapping over to where Mav was stood at the very edge of the garden. But Mav was cast entirely in shadow, so Ice couldn’t see him and he barked out, “Who’s there?” through a puff of white smoke that fell past his lips and swirled in the air around him.
Mav didn’t want to freak the guy out. They might not like each other very much but Mav wasn’t going to make him think he was losing it or have him underperforming come morning because he couldn’t sleep due to his paranoia of a prowler out in the night air. After all, winning an unfair competition isn’t nearly as satisfying. So he stepped forward into the light, revealing his small, lithe, fluffy body.
“Oh,” the tension in Ice’s body bled out, his shoulders slumping, “It’s you again.” His tone was somewhere between bewilderment and pleased. Mav opened his mouth in a loud meow. Ice chucked, coming to take a seat on the small concrete staircase leading off the raised space of the porch. He held out a beckoning hand, cigarette still between his lips.
Mav figured, ‘What the hell?’ and ventured over. If the guy wanted to subject himself to an allergic reaction again, who was Mav to stop him? After all, the cancer stick hanging from his mouth was evidence enough of his lack of self-preservation.
Come to think of it, there may have been a reason why Goose told him they were two peas in a pod. Considering Mav’s own lemming-like tendencies from time to time.
“Hello again,” Ice smiled, that soft and genuine grin that Mav had only seen as a cat, petting a hand down Mav’s back. Mav pawed softly at his thigh, curling into the touch. Sue him, he wasn’t exactly accustomed to casual physical affection as a human so he soaked it up whenever he was shifted. Rival or not, Ice was petting him so Mav was purring and enjoying the attention.
“I wonder where you came from,” Ice mused, checking his neck briefly for a collar that he would not find. Mav was always sure to take his tags off before shifting every since the one time he accidentally wore a name tag around while hunting. Nobody had seen them, but the idea that anyone might’ve seen his dog tags on some random cat and put two and two together terrified him, so he never made that mistake again. “You’re certainly not feral, so you must’ve had a home at some point.”
Something about that statement brought about a sense of melancholy to Mav, reminding him of the childhood he’d lost too soon. His eyes must’ve turned wide and pitiful because Ice cooed at him softly, “It’s alright, little guy,” he sighed, his smile taking a turn for sad as well, “I’m sure there’s somebody who’ll keep you and spoil you at some point,” he looked out at the setting sun, his expression falling, “Sorry it can’t be me,” he took another drag of his cigarette.
Mav meowed at him, stretching up onto his hind legs to paw at his chest. Ice chuckled again, continuing to stroke over his ears, down his back, and over his tail. “I really need to go get some antihistamines,” he hummed, amusement in his voice, already taking a turn for nasally.
Mav stared up at him, hoping he’d convey his condescension through his gaze. He must’ve because Ice huffed, rolling his eyes at him. “You’re so goddamn judgmental,” he exhaled a round of smoke, turning away from Mav so he wouldn’t blow it into his face, “I’m glad you can’t talk.” That made Mav’s mouth quirk up into a grin.
Ice stared at him for a long moment, “God, you look like Mitchell when you do that,” he blinked in shock, and if Mav could laugh, he would’ve. Ice laughed at himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Look at me, comparing that prick to a kitten.”
‘I am a grown man!’ Mav hissed and batted at his leg, this time with extended claws. Ice yelped, “Alright, Jesus!” He held his hands up in surrender, flicking the burned out cigarette butt over his shoulder, “You’re a testy little thing,” he murmured, watching Mav climb into his lap and curl into a ball.
“Ice, do you know where the—“ Slider came careening out the back door of their housing unit, startling to a sudden halt when he saw the cat in Ice’s lap, “Uh…”
“Told you I wasn’t hallucinating,” Ice smirked at Slider, petting a hand down Mav’s back.
“Why do you always do this?” Slider sighed in an exasperated tone that Mav knew very well from Goose’s voice. The tone of an exhausted older brother, if he’d ever heard one. “We have a hop tomorrow, you idiot, you’re gonna be so stuffed up, your head’ll pop.”
“Worth it,” Ice shrugged, cuddling Mav closer.
Slider gaped at him while Mav smirked, settling further into his lap, “You’re gonna shirk TOPGUN for a stray cat?”
“Eh,” Ice shrugged, “We’re in the lead anyway,” he smiled, something amused, “Maybe it’ll give ‘em some false hope,” he laughed, “Or better yet, they’ll catch up, make the competition interesting.”
“Only you,” Slider shook his head, turning on his heel and heading back into the house, mumbling as he went, “Goddamn overconfident, conceited ass pilots and their stupid fucking mind-games—“
“He loves me,” Ice smiled, chuffing in amusement as he stroked Mav’s ears, “That’s the only reason he can bitch at me like that and get away with it.” He made a funny face at Mav, like one you might make at a baby to make it giggle, and Mav rumbled back, causing Ice to laugh in response. His voice sounding more and more clogged by the minute.
Mav fell asleep in his lap there and he woke up the next morning, luckily still in cat form, by himself on the back lawn. He barely made it to class on time that morning and Goose ribbed him the whole way for he and Smokey’s shenanigans. Ice hid his red and watery eyes behind his aviators, but he couldn’t help the sneezes. Slider cuffed the back of his head out on the tarmac with a shake of his head before they climbed into their plane and Mav couldn’t help but fall to pieces laughing.
The next time Mav encountered Ice while in cat form was on a day off. The weekend had come and with it, a break. Carole and Bradley had finally landed and Mav left the Bradshaw family to their own devices for the day, instead choosing to enjoy some lounging time as a cat. And he knew just the spot.
In the library, there was a window with a wide inner ledge. Now, Mav didn’t need much room to lounge, small as he was, but the spacious area seemed perfect for stretching his entire tiny body out and covering every inch of his fur in warm sunlight. Mav fought his natural cat-like instincts on most days for the sake of his job, but around noon was when he was the most tired. He loved a midday nap with the only blanket being the warm light beaming in through a window.
Ever since he’d noticed the ledge, he’d hoped for a day to come back to it. And on a Saturday, most staff weren’t dwelling about the building. Sure, some officers were still on duty for one reason or another, but nobody had cause for the library. Not when they’d just completed an exam block and would be studying a new set of maneuvers come Monday. No reason to study, no reason to bother the little black kitten nestled in the ledge of the window.
So Mav shifted and slipped in through the doors and around the hallways with as much subtlety as he could possibly have, finding his perfect perch unoccupied and already warm from the mid-morning California sunlight. He purred, curling up right in the crook of the window, his spine pressed to the warm glass, his paws and tail stretched out as far as they could reach. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he fell asleep.
Mav didn’t usually dream much as a cat, but he never slept as deeply as he did in human form either. He came to and changed positions a few times, turning onto his back to warm his soft belly or turning onto his other side, then promptly fell right back into his slumber.
At some point, however, he roused at the sound of a voice. “What on earth are you doing here?” It asked softly. A hand came to pet over his side, the touch gentle and soothing. Mav purred, settling further into the comfort. “Maybe you’re not a stray…” the voice mused, “Maybe you belong to one of the instructors,” the voice chuffed, “I could see Viper being a cat man.”
The hand softly stroked up and massaged at the tips of his ears, the sharp part were they point up, the tufts of hair that stick up and sorta make him look like a lynx. “You’re a lot nicer when you’re sleepy,” the voice said, amusement in his tone, and Mav finally opened his eyes. There sat Ice, in casual clothes, a random book in hand, and a soft smile on his face.
Mav bared a canine in response and Ice laughed. “I know, I know, you’re a fierce some wildcat,” he teased, petting over Mav’s flank. The pets were the only reason Mav didn’t lunge at him. Scout’s honor.
“Well, I was gonna come here and do some reading,” Ice hummed, glancing at the armchair right beside the window, “You wouldn’t mind if we shared, would you?” Mav sneezed in response.
Ice narrowed his eyes, “Are you mocking me?”
Mav grinned and gave another, bigger sneeze. Ice tugged at one of his ear playfully in retaliation, unable to stifle the smile on his face. “Cats are assholes,” he laughed.
‘Oh, well maybe that’s why you like them,’ Mav thought,’You fit right in.’
Ice narrowed his eyes at him again, “I have a feeling if you could speak right now, you’d be insulting me.”
Mav just smiled at him.
Slowly, over time, the window naps on weekends and the late night ventures in the backyard of Ice and Slider’s housing became common. Did Mav really know why he kept showing up? No. But he was intrigued by this softer, kinder side of Ice that nobody else really saw. Slider did, and maybe once upon a time, Goose had, but Ice had walls up for everyone else. He had no such reservations against a cat. And Mav enjoyed the affection. To be frank, Mav had really only ever received that type of treatment from the Bradshaws. Maybe once upon a time, when he was young and somehow an even smaller little kitten, his father had cradled him close and played with him softly or his mother had shifted and cuddled close with him. But after they both died, all Mav had were his fosters who never even knew he was a shifter.
Goose was the first person that found out because he, coincidentally, did the same thing Ice did and befriended Mav slowly on both fronts. He fed him scraps and gave him water in cat form and slowly crept past Mav’s walls in human form. Before long, Mav told him the truth and Goose could only laugh. Carole was next, she found out shortly after Goose proposed to her. And Bradley didn’t really know, too young to be trusted with something so confusing, but he played with Smokey just as much as Mav played with him. The Bradshaws were the only people Mav ever received kindness from in either form.
So seeing conflicting responses from Ice depending on whether he was talking to Mav, the pilot, or Mav, the cat…it was interesting.
It didn’t hold weight until after Hop 31. Goose ended up in a coma and Mav was distraught. He couldn’t stand to be in the air, he was terrified of the water (not that he liked it much to begin with, y’know, cat and all), he was plagued by nightmares, he was just overall a mess. All of the flyboys who had previously liked him plenty or held the same disdain for him that Ice and Slider had now could only look at him with pity. Even Ice’s sharp stares softened with sympathy.
And Mav hated it. Hated being seen as someone worth pitying. All the shit he’d endured in his life and no one had ever once given him an inch of quarter for it, let alone pity. That was life in the Navy. To suddenly have all of these esteemed men, instructors and peers and superior officers and even the damn flight crew, staring at him with gentle, sad eyes as if too harsh of a glare would send him shattering, it drove him nuts.
So naturally, he spent as much time as possible as a cat. And on one random night, he happened upon Ice. Sat on a random bench on a dark stretch of beach, his face illuminated by the glowing red cherry of his cigarette. Just like that first night all over again.
Despite his better judgement, he wandered closer. Ice didn’t even look at him, just kept watching the waves roll in under the dim moonlight. Mav hopped up onto the bench beside him and laid down, content to cuddle into his side in lieu of Goose’s warmth and listen to the ocean. The silence hung in the balance for a while, the only sounds being the water moving in loud, raucous crashes to shore, and Ice’s soft inhales and exhales. He must’ve gone through three cigarettes before he finally opened his mouth.
“Sorry, little one,” he sounded choked when he said it, “Don’t think I’ll be much company right now.”
Mav leaned closer into him, placing his chin on his thigh and peering up at him with wide green eyes. Ice looked down at him and the silver moonlight caught a glint along the edge of his lashes. Tears. That was one reason Mav liked his cat form when he was hurting, cats can’t cry.
“I fucked up,” Ice breathed the words out like he just couldn’t hold them in anymore, his voice edging close to a sob, “God, I fucked up.” He leaned forward and put his head in his hands, the fire of his cigarette close enough to his face that he’d feel the heat.
At that, Mav furrowed his brows and stood up, placing a paw on Ice’s chest and meowing. Ice sobbed softly into his hands, “I didn’t fucking—I—shit,” he sighed, trying to catch his breath, “I got too fucking arrogant, like I always do, and I forgot that there’s more to lose than a trophy when we’re up there.”
He put his hands down, leaning back into the bench and tipping his head towards the sky. Tears were streaming freely down his cheeks and into the collar of his t-shirt. “I just—“ he waved a hand, “Fuck, I can’t believe this happened,” he laughed, though it lacked amusement, “And it’s all my fault.”
Mav meowed again, batting at his chest, ‘Your fault? I was his goddamn pilot! If anyone’s to blame, it’s me!’
“And here I am, crying to a fucking cat,” Ice huffed, shaking his head at himself.
Something in that snapped the very last of Mav’s resolve and before he truly knew what he was doing, he jumped from Ice’s lap, caught the jacket laid on the bench beside him in his teeth, and ran a few feet down the beach. Ice watched him go with something miserable in his eyes and when Mav turned around to face him, he took a deep breath.
He blinked and he was human again. He dropped the jacket quickly into his hands, not necessarily trying to protect his modesty from Ice, they shared a locker room after all, but he wasn’t exactly eager to catch a public indecency charge, and he used the fabric to cover as much of his lower half as it would reach. It wasn’t great, his ass was still halfway exposed but it faced the ocean, while his dick was totally covered.
Ice’s mouth dropped open, the shock on his face so strong that Mav knew he’d have to give the other pilot a moment before anything he said would penetrate his brain at all, even as he huffed, on the verge of downright fuming.
“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Mav sassed. Ice blinked in shock and then clenched his jaw.
“Now, if we’re gonna sit here and fight over who’s to blame, I think I’ve got you beat,” Mav cocked his head.
“You’re a cat,” Ice gawked, still not fully processing anything.
“Shapeshifters exist,” Mav shook the hand not holding the jacket over himself with a sarcastic grin, “Ta-da! Yes, we’re past that now.”
“No, you’re a cat,” Ice gaped, putting his head in his hands, “You’re the cat I’ve been splitting my lunches with for weeks.”
“Yep,” Mav nodded, “Now back to the point—“
“I’m sorry, my entire worldview just been shattered,” Ice held a hand up, “Gimme a minute.”
Mav sighed in exasperation, “Fine, but this conversation is not over.”
“No, it most certainly is not,” Ice laughed sarcastically.
Several minutes passed while Mav watched Ice collect himself and only when he took a mustering breath and met his eyes again, did Mav start speaking once more, “You don’t get to blame yourself for this.”
“What?” Ice furrowed his brows, having apparently forgotten what was happening before the cat he was talking to turned into his rival.
“You are not to blame for Goose,” Mav shook his head, “He was my responsibility, not yours.”
“If I’d have taken the damn shot when you told me to, it never would’ve happened,” Ice argued.
“You don’t know that,” Mav countered, “It was my job to make sure he ejected safely and he didn’t, that’s on me.”
“That was a mechanical malfunction that neither of us could’ve predicted,” Ice shook his head, laughing incredulously, “I’d argue that the jet wash you flew through was far more at fault than anything.”
“Then I should’ve avoided it,” Mav said.
“How?!” Ice exclaimed, “It’s fucking invisible! We know that! Our training teaches us that jet wash is borderline unavoidable, we try to steer clear but there’s no way to know for certain.”
“If I’d just—“ Mav shook his head but Ice cut him off.
“If you’d what?” Ice laughed again, no amusement to be found, “Magically predicted a sequence of events that no one in their right mind could’ve ever guessed would happen? You’re good Mitchell, I’ll concede that much, but you aren’t a miracle worker.”
“So what? You want me to blame you? When you had no way of knowing that would happen?” Mav raised an eyebrow.
“Yes! I was being obstinate and getting far too caught up in the damn competition of it all, just like I’d told you off for over and over again, I fucked up,” Ice threw his hands up, “You flew that hop almost perfectly, my stubbornness is what happened.”
“It’s TOPGUN!” Mav countered, “We’re all being far too competitive! I’m not the only one taking risks that I would never dream of taking in combat, did you hear about the shit Holly and Wolf pulled on hop 24?”
“But that’s my point!” Ice argued, “You were willing to play fair on that round, I wasn’t!”
“So what, you want me to get mad? Want me to be pissed? Want me to scream at you?” Mav chuckled lowly, “Cause I’m not going to.”
“It was both of your fault,” came a voice from the side, “And then again, it was neither of your fault.” They both turned to see Slider stood a little ways up the beach, shaking his head as he walked towards them.
“Never in my life—“ he mumbled, then spoke to them both again, “You’re both arguing for who was the right to feel guilty and there’s no sense in that,” he sighed, “Nick wouldn’t want that for either of you, you know he’d forgive you both in a heartbeat.”
He walked closer, “We all did stupid stuff on that hop, boys,” Slider shook his head, “Lest you forget, Nick and I were egging you both on, so we’re all at fault for what happened,” he tipped his head in consideration, “And then again, none of us are because your jet had an electrical misfire that none of us could’ve ever known would happen, so then it’s the jet’s fault.”
He shrugged, “Believe what you wanna believe, I don’t really care, but you can shut up arguing over who deserves to feel more guilty and that’s getting us nowhere.”
He glanced at Mav, “And why the fuck are you naked?”
“About that…” Mav laughed nervously. Then he shifted.
Slider stared at his cat form for a long moment and then threw his hands up with a sigh. “Why am I not fucking surprised?”
Several weeks later, after graduation, after the Layton, after they all made it back to land safely, after Goose woke up from his coma, the three of them all crowded into the room, Carole and Bradley already at the RIO’s side, and within seconds, Mav disappeared into his clothes.
From the pile wriggled a tiny black kitten. Carole cooed over him while Goose, Ice, and Slider laughed, and Bradley squealed, having not seen his furry little buddy in weeks. That tiny kitten bounded over to Carole, who picked him up into her lap, and after allowing her to pet and snuggle him for a moment, he jumped from her lap into the bed where Bradley laid snuggled into his father’s side.
He carefully found his way to Goose’s chest, his tiny body with so little weight nestling into his spot and curling into a ball. Together, father and son stroked over his back. And when Mav glanced to where Ice and Slider stood, only a few steps into the doorway, he met his wingman’s eyes and Ice smiled.
Said smile was interrupted by a sneeze. But still.