Work Text:
It was late at night at the Mitchell-Kazansky household, the entire house quiet. Mav had gone partying with the rest of the Topgun class while Ice had stayed home.
The whole party was kind of a reunion but Ice was too tired to go, so he opted for staying home in his comfy bed.
It was around 1:00 AM when Tom heard the front door creak open and someone shuffle in. He put his book down and hauled himself out of bed to go check on Pete before he went to bed.
“How was it?” He called from the hallway, walking to meet him. No answer. Tom was confused and slightly concerned at the silence but he just assumed Pete was drunk and it wasn’t a big deal.
That theory was immediately shut down when he turned the corner to be met with a bloody and beaten Maverick.
Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth and from his nose, his eyes swollen and black. He has cuts from impact all over, an especially bad one on the bridge of his nose.
“Jesus Christ..!” Tom whispered, his mouth hanging open. Pete looked like he’d faint any minute, and frankly, it was a miracle he made it home. He stumbled forward, collapsing into Tom’s outstretched arms.
Blood immediately seeped into Tom’s old T-shirt as Pete clutched at Tom. “What happened to you? Who did this?” Tom stammered, peeling Pete away and holding his face. He made Pete look him in the eyes, trying to see if there was any light left in them. Pete couldn’t answer, he just stared back, his busted lip trembling.
Hot tears spilled down his cheeks into the blood that caked onto his neck. The gash on his nose bridge was still seeping, bruising already covering his skin. Tom didn’t know what to do.
He just held him.
Tom managed to lead Pete to the couch, setting him down gently and scurrying off to get a med kit. For the first time in a long, long time, Tom had cried. Sobbed, would be a better word. He heaved until he couldn’t anymore and returned to Pete, who was looking alert. He had heard. “You… ok?” He managed to whisper, looking up at Ice.
He nodded firmly. Tom examined Pete’s wounds. The truth is they should be at the hospital right now, but they’ll only end up going when Slider finds out. Slider found out after coming to the house after he himself had left the bar to check up on the two.
He had found them on the couch, Tom staring blankly at Pete, who was weezing.
“Holy shit! What the fuck happend?” Ron yelled, immediately running to the couch side and gently picking up Maverick. Pete groaned, holding his ribs.
“What happened?" Ron finally asked again in the waiting room. “He didn’t tell me. Just collapsed.” Tom answered weakly, staring out into the sterile smelling waiting room, his leg bouncing.
“He wasnt like that when he left the bar. He must’ve gotten jumped…”
When the doctor finally allowed people to see him, they tried to stop Ice and Slider from getting in at first. “Kin only, sir.” The nurse had said, boredom lacing her tone.
“We’re married for gods sake! Please let me in.” Tom pleaded, showing his wedding band. The nurse begrudgingly stepped aside and let the two in. Pete had an oxygen tube and a cast on his leg. His mid section was bandaged and his whole face was littered with bandages and tape.
“Tom…?” Said the small voice from the bed. Tom immediately ran to the bedside, crouching down to eye level.
“Yeah. It’s me, I’m here.”
Ron looked at the nicer nurse for an injury list. “Broken rib, sprained ankle, bruised lung, numerous cuts and bruises, and a knocked out tooth.”
Ice squeezed his eyes shut, shivering. Slider grimaced but didn’t say anything.
“They called me a murderer.” A small and broken voice piped up from the bed.
“What…?” Tom asked slowly.
“Said it was my fault… What happened.” They didn’t need confirmation on what he was talking about. They knew who’s death they were blaming Pete for.
Tom gingerly put his hand against Pete’s cheek. Pete hissed quietly, but leaned into the touch anyway.
“They stopped me when I was walking home. Five of em, just punching me.”
Ron turned away, Ice just stared.
“Said I was a disgrace to the navy. Said they should’ve never let a fag join. Said I should’ve gone down with Goose. Said it should’ve been me.”
Nobody spoke. Everyone just stared. Tom’s expression was the saddest it’s ever been. Tom knew that this would be traumatic in a way that it will never leave.
He knows that Pete will become jumpy, and untrusting. He knows that Pete will seldom go alone anywhere, especially at night and only if he has to. He knows that Pete will spend god knows how long looking over his shoulder. He knows every time he smiles that the missing tooth will become a subject of interest.
He knows that as long as Pete lives, he’ll have a voice in his head telling him that it should’ve been him.