Chapter Text
Tom was awoken, not by his alarm this time, but by the warm rays of sunlight that hit his face just right. Not only that, there was a light but from the pressure of an arm resting on his bare chest and a familiar face buried in his neck. Maverick. Pete.
Only a few weeks after Top Gun with no further issues other than Hop 31, their teaching had really brought them together, clearly. It was surprising that their entire little niche stayed in touch, with Mav helping Goose and Carole with Bradley, and also teaching with him and Slider, while also keeping touch with Wolfman and Hollywood, he was like the glue to their group.
He looked so much younger when he was sleeping. Those perceptive eyes blind to the world, letting Tom see him at his most vulnerable.
Y’know it took weeks of them dating for Mav to even consider sleeping in the same bed as Tom. Lots of hugs, Goose’d said. Those two were awful close. His mind hissed when they were at Top Gun together. Hot, burning jealousy churning in Tom’s gut.
But he didn’t have to worry about that now. Mav was where he belonged: in Tom’s arms.
Tom was lucky, not only did he get to wake up next to this angel, or devil, of a man, he could stay here as long as he wanted. Tom had gotten his leave application approved, a rare window of time for him and Mav to be together opening.
The last few times they were on leave at the same time, there was always something driving a drift in between them, whether an argument or conflicting schedules, it always happened. Not on Tom’s watch, this time would be perfect. No time to waste, Tom had to leave the warmth of Mav’s presence to prepare them both breakfast.
Even though every part of Tom’s body adamantly refused to even try to get up, like suddenly his flesh was transformed into a marble statue, he delicately removed Mav’s lithe body from its rightful place on Tom’s chest. Like he was handling glass, Tom meticulously placed Mav back onto their bed.
God, how had he gotten so lucky?
Waking up next to the love of his life for however long either one of them lived, was enough reward for wherever they went after. Tom looked over Mav’s sleeping form, unconscious of the world around him, a swell of protectiveness whirled around in his chest. Pressing his lips gently to mav’s forehead as goodbye, he quietly left their room.
Tom made sure to be careful not to let the stairs creak too loudly under his feet, how did Mav walk down without making any noise?
Soon, the crackle of butter browning on the pan and the voice of Whitney Houston filled the small kitchen. If Tom wanted today to be perfect, breakfast was the most important part. First impressions matter. He’d thought as Whitney started the chorus,
Clock strikes upon the hour
And the sun begins to fade
Eggs and bacon , he had decided, were the perfect American breakfast to start the day. His eyes caught on the loaf of bread they had bought last time they went shopping, and toast too , he presumed. Luckily, once again, for some reason Mav had a toaster at his and Goose's old dorm.
So lost in his thoughts Tom didn’t notice the slender figure creeping up behind him.
“Tom, what’re you doin’?” The man in question did not yelp in surprise, even if Mav’s, very manly, giggles said otherwise. A tingle of mild annoyance swelled in the back of Tom’s mind.
“Jesus Christ, Mav! You can’t creep up on me like that.”
“I was walking normally.” Mav said as he rolled his eyes, his arms crossed around his chest, Tom’s sweater bunching around his wrists. Tom sighed and turned so his body was now fully facing Mav.
Maybe, he could be a little risque this morning..
“You’re like a mouse, I should get you one of those bell collars so I know when you’re coming.”
Quick as a whip, Mav shot back.
“Get me a collar and I’ll be coming all the time, big guy.”
Tom doesn’t get how he does it, always managing to say the most crude things off the top of his head. It’s like a talent. Mav’s almost straight out of a lame sit-com that Ice would roll his eyes at when they appeared on the TV and immediately skip over. He was like a movie character that couldn’t possibly exist in real life; his boyish looks, his cocky persona, and everything else about him, even down to his stupidly dangerous motorcycle. Tom spoke.
“Don’t say things like that so early in the morning.” because what else could he say to that.
“What, can’t handle the heat, icy baby?”
Tom had never really understood what being charismatic meant until he had met Mav. Everything about the way he held himself, drew you in matter what gender you thought you were attracted to. Including Tom, he had never even looked at another man in the way he looks at Mav.
“I can handle your heat, just don’t know if you can handle mine.”
Smooth, Tom.
“Well, I know something that can’t.” The counter is the perfect height for this, right around Tom’s hip height, Mav would have to be on his tiptoes. An unconscious grin crept up on Tom's face.
“What’s that?” And if Tom was replaying the first time they met in his head, who’s to blame him?
“The eggs.” Well, the mood’s ruined. Wait, what?
“What?”
The cheeky bastard just pointed behind him, where the eggs were obviously looking more like a brackish charcoal than the yellowy color he was expecting. How’d he not smell that?
The background of his panicked cleaning of the stove was filled by Whitney’s confident voice and the silent wheezing of Pete, something that happened when he was really laughing hard. Something he had grown to love more than he thought he could’ve.
If he was lonely enough, Tom thinks that laughter would follow him with the silence.
And in three weeks, he’ll hate how right he was.
So when the night falls
My lonely heart calls