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Tom.
These three letters were burnt into his shoulder as if they had always been there. In a way, they had always been there. Pete didn't remember when the unfamiliar name on his skin had first shown up, so he figured he must have been born with it.
He had heard of people having their soulmate's name written somewhere on their body, some in subtle places, some less. As much as he wished he didn't, he fell under the latter category. Since childhood, he had tried to wear clothes that covered this part of his shoulder. All the other boys with a soulmark had a girl's name on their skin, while in his case there was no way it was about a girl.
This circumstance didn't stop him from trying to find his soulmate early on, so he befriended everyone of that name. From the pre-school playground to high school parties.
Whether his connection would be platonic or romantic wasn't clear, so he was open to whatever type of relationship would come his way. Secretly, he hoped for romance.
However, Tom was a very common name and every time there was a little spark of hope that he had found his Tom. Even bigger was the disappointment when something happened or his gut feeling told him that this was not the one. This happened a lot. The chemistry just wasn't there and nothing besides the name pointed to them being soulmates.
After years of searching to no avail, he felt stupid for forcing friendships solely based on a shared name with the person he had been destined to meet. At times, he tried to scrub it off his skin because he was tired of living with the expectation that someday he would find his soulmate, although that just wouldn't happen for him.
Although he noticed the name on his shoulder every single day, he stopped actively looking for him. When he turned 18, it disappeared completely overnight. Sometimes he wondered if it was because he had put his search on hold and the universe thought he didn't want or deserve a soulmate anymore. That, or his soulmate had been close and Pete passed up on the opportunity by leaving to join the Navy.
Yet no matter how long he had been living with a blank shoulder, free to wear tank tops and be shirtless around other people, he never forgot the name that had been written on his skin since childhood. Except when he was sent to Top Gun. The excitement about advancing his career was greater than the hope of finding this mysterious Tom.
Soon he found himself in the classroom where he would spend a good portion of his time for the next couple of weeks. He turned around to see a man with short blonde hair giving him a challenging and almost sultry look. Somehow, it was hard to take his eyes off of him, but he hesitantly turned back around to face the instructor.
Changing into his white uniform in his dorm room, he couldn't believe his eyes. ‘Tom’ was back in the exact same spot as it had been for nearly two decades. Why would it show up right now? It hadn't been there this morning. Did it mean his soulmate was near? He had no time to think as there was a party happening tonight, though he had a reason to drink under these circumstances.
The club was frequented by fellow pilots, most of them new faces from Top Gun, as well as people in civil clothes and a couple of girls. As much of a choice he had, he decided to hang out with his best friend Goose rather than flirting with the women who were undoubtedly beautiful. So beautiful that even the unapproachable blonde man from earlier—Iceman, as Goose had just told him—had one hanging from his arm.
Secretly, he wondered if Iceman was gay based on how he looked at the girl by his side almost indifferently. Not necessarily because he looked or acted gay—nobody in the military did—but rather because Pete was intrigued by him and was curious if he possibly had a chance with him.
As if Pete had been caught staring, the blonde made his way over to him together with Slider, another pilot Goose knew from the academy. Like he had found his prey, Iceman leaned forward, steadying himself with his hand on the counter behind Pete as he chewed gum more seductively than he had ever seen.
Admittedly, he didn't remember much of what the other man was saying to him because he was too drawn in by how Iceman towered over him, piercing green eyes flashing back and forth between Pete's lips and his eyes as he spoke.
At some point during the conversation, he dared to glance down at the blonde's golden plate with his name on it. Tom Kazansky. For a brief second, his breath hitched. Then a smirk tugged at his lips as he looked back up at Iceman, whose only response was a toothy grin and another provocative comment that felt way too close to flirting. At least that was how Pete flirted with people; maybe this guy's flirting strategy was vastly different and he truly just wanted to start a rivalry. Both were working on him.
When Iceman left, Pete felt almost sad, even if all they were exchanging were snarky remarks about the other's reputation and intense looks. “You alright, man?” Goose asked, patting his back and taking a sip of his beer.
“Yeah… Who's that guy?”
“You weren't listening, were you? He just showed you all there is to know about him,” he grinned.
He was right in a way. Of course he was listening, but more to his voice and his repartee than what others would read into it to try and figure out what type of man he was.
But he couldn't tell him that, not even his best friend. Just like he couldn't tell him that he thought this man who had just criticized his work ethic and flying style before seeing it for himself was the person he was meant to be with. Even Goose would think he's crazy. He didn't know about Pete's soulmark to understand what was going on, but Pete also didn't want to make assumptions before he was certain.
However, if this was his Tom, it would make sense that he felt instantly drawn to him from the moment they had first locked eyes, even if in a strange way that was closer to sexual tensions found in rivals—which they were.
So the constant banter resumed, in the classrooms, in the hallways, in the locker room, in the air. And with each comment, Pete couldn't get enough, so he had to engage and be just as snarky in return, knowing very well Iceman would eventually trap him between the wall and his body with a provocative stare. Even while other people looked on, he was ecstatic whenever that happened. To them, it looked like two men fighting, but to him, it felt like they might make out any second.
Thankfully, the ever-growing distraction didn't affect his flying, but as soon as they were on the ground, the blonde was on his mind again. Every little thing he did, he interpreted them as signs that Iceman really was his soulmate. Then again, some of his antics didn't match those of people in love—at least when he considered how Goose and Carol were around each other. Perhaps it simply was a coincidence that he had the same name and the mark returned right at this time.
Still, he couldn't take his eyes off of Iceman, not even in the locker room when he stepped out of the shower, only wearing a towel for modesty's sake. This man was built like a Greek god with a tongue spitting venom like Medusa's hair.
The towel around his hips was hanging dangerously low as he stretched and slicked his wet hair back. Low enough to reveal the name ‘Pete’ written in an all too familiar font on his lower abdomen right above his hip. It was Pete's own handwriting.
He couldn't help but stare, which definitely gave everyone in the room the wrong impression—or in fact, the right impression. “What are you staring at?” Iceman snapped, leaning against the pillar.
Pete simply shook his head, rolling his eyes, and sat down on the bench next to Goose. Upon noticing the strange look on Iceman's face that wandered from his eyes down to his shoulder, he remembered that he had forgotten to cover his own mark up. Luckily, nobody asked him about it.
With that, Iceman ended his speech, in which he was going on and on about how Pete couldn't even ignore his distaste for who he was flying with while up in the air. He never allowed himself to get distracted while talking, so none of the other men said anything as they assumed he would continue any moment. When he didn't and everyone had gotten dressed, all of them left the room—except for Pete and Tom, as if they had previously agreed to stay behind.
“Is that… my name on your shoulder?” Tom asked carefully.
“You're not the only one with that name, you know?” Pete replied, arms crossed as if to keep the other man away.
The taller man raised a brow and sat down next to him. “You're not the only one named Pete either, but you sure were looking a little too long earlier.”
Pete scoffed and combed his hair, turning away from him, but that didn't end the conversation. “How long have you had it?”
“Since I came here. I mean, I had it as a kid, but one day it just disappeared and now it's back,” he answered truthfully, facing him again to see his reaction.
Tom hummed, seemingly in agreement. “Yeah.”
There was a moment of silence as they looked at each other, skillfully avoiding direct eye contact while doing so, although that had never been a problem between them before. Quite the opposite, from the way every conversation was paired with a staring contest, it almost seemed the most familiar features were the other's eyes and lips.
“I thought my soulmate would be… taller,” Tom said in a playfully cocky tone he hadn't expected to earn him the cold shoulder.
“I don't believe in that stuff, man,” Pete mumbled and got up, leaving the room without another glance at him.
As usual, they were fighting the next day after practice flights. And as usual, Pete was proud of how he had done, which caused Tom to scoff.
“What's your problem, Kazansky?” Pete snapped, slamming his locker door and turning around.
Tom towered over him, only the bench between them and the spectators preventing them from getting closer. “You're everyone's problem. That's because every time you go up in the air, you're unsafe. I don't like you because you're dangerous.”
“That's right, Iceman.” Pete jumped at him and punched his arm for emphasis as he confirmed with a smirk on his lips and fire in his eyes, “I am dangerous.”
Tom didn't let that be the last word and made a biting motion at him, which probably didn't come off as the tough ‘bite me’ he had intended as it grew into a smile while Pete was still facing him. At least he reciprocated the smile before turning away.
Even in the middle of an argument, he got butterflies at the other man's touch, even if it was a punch and not a gentle stroke of the arm. It was still the first time he touched him despite standing very close to each other several times before. Oh, how he wished he could touch him just once, just to see if it had the same effect on Pete as it had on him right now.
Suddenly, the injury in this spot wasn't hurting anymore. It had appeared right after Pete had left him the day prior and he hadn't been able to explain why it was even there when nothing had happened. While he believed in soulmates, he didn't think the myth about getting physical scars from rejection was real. It had to be something else. Or maybe not. Then again, why did it seem to have healed now after Pete touched him in this place?
From here on in, it was a hopeless case. He hadn't exactly been calm about it since the first time they had talked and he had noticed Pete's name was all too familiar, but now he wanted more and he wanted it as soon as possible.
The pining seemed unrequited as Pete made it his mission to avoid him at all times and when he did interact with him, his arrogance blew up more than usual. What he had once interpreted as cocky flirting in a similar way to his own tactic was now replaced by genuine arguments, although Tom was beyond fighting over who was the best pilot. Deep inside, he knew it was himself, but right now he just wanted them to talk again like in that brief private moment in the locker room. Everything else went like programmed so he didn't have to worry much about his performance at Top Gun.
One day, they were finally alone together after everyone else had gone to their dorms, to the bar, or anywhere but the locker room. Pete could sense Tom standing behind him without uttering a sound. If he wanted to say something, why didn't he? And if he didn't want to say something, why was he behind him doing nothing? He clenched his jaw and closed the door of his locker with a bang.
Tom swallowed and spoke up before Pete could ask what the hell he wanted. “Listen, I thought I just had a crush on you because you were my type. But this isn't just a crush and we both know what it is.”
Pete rolled his eyes and rubbed his face in frustration as the other man spoke. Certainly, he was telling the truth, but that didn't mean he had to accept it as such. “I tried to scrub your name off my skin. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want you.”
He walked away to leave and suddenly, Tom winced in pain. “What's wrong?” Pete asked, annoyance lingering in his voice, although his brows were furrowed in concern.
“Every time you reject me, I get physically hurt. I can't help it,” the blonde explained, as stupid as it sounded, even to himself, but he did ask, after all. “I'd just like to know what your problem is with me. For sure, I don't like your flying style and how you're not a teamplayer, but that's work. What's up with you and me personally?”
Completely ignoring this question, Pete stepped closer to him, dropping his bag on the bench. “Where does it hurt?”
Tom skeptically looked at him before he pulled his shirt over his head and showed the other man his shoulder. There was a scar as if from a cut. In the exact same place where Tom's name was written on Pete's skin.
“Ouch,” he mumbled and ghosted his fingertips across the wound. Again, it didn't sting anymore, and if he looked, the scar would certainly have disappeared like the last time.
“It's always the same spot,” Tom said quietly, waiting for the brunette to look into his eyes like he had always done until a couple of days ago—which he did, an apologetic look on his face.
Then something in his eyes changed, which prompted Tom to reach out and place his hand above Pete's hip, not pulling him in but letting the shorter man close the gap between them. Before either of them could say something, Pete crashed his lips into Tom’s, fingertips digging into the blonde's neck.
Kissing him felt so right and they never wanted to stop now that they got a taste of it. They almost felt stupid for living their whole lives up until now without kissing each other, even if they hadn’t been able to associate a face with the name until a few weeks ago.
Besides hurried gasps for air, they couldn't be separated anymore as it quickly got more heated. While they acknowledged the loud sound of Pete’s body smashing into his locker, it bothered neither of them enough to stop.
Tom's hands were on both sides of the other man's head, leaning down to kiss his jaw. As much as that motion gave him goosebumps, Pete moved to try and be the dominant one. They may have been kissing, but that didn't mean he would just let Tom do his thing without some resistance.
The blonde slid his hand up Pete’s stomach under his shirt, pressing him back against the locker to stay in control as he smirked in the middle of kissing down Pete's neck.
“Fucker…” he murmured but watched as Tom moved lower and started unzipping his jacket. When he realized what he was presumably going to do, Pete tightened his grip on his shoulder. “Not here. Not now.”
Normally, he wouldn't have been stopped by that as Pete seemed to be very much into it and his rejection sounded forced, but considering the location and the possibility of anyone walking in at any time, he obeyed and stood up. In this rush of ecstasy, he had almost forgotten they weren't in private.
Pete cupped the other man's cheeks and looked into his eyes, whispering, “I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I do want you.”