Chapter Text
“What am I supposed to do with a lone pilot?” Viper asked incredulously, unable to strip the annoyance fully from his voice. This was the last thing he’d been expecting when the routine call for eligible Top Gun pilots went out.
“Look, I know it’s not ideal, but this kid is good, alright? Really good. You won’t regret giving him a chance.” The CAG of the Forrestal was quick to reassure. Viper couldn’t say that the words were very comforting.
“And his RIO quit?”
“Quit him.” Buckshot huffed down the line. “Said he’d sooner turn in his wings than fly with Kazansky again. But I’m telling you, Viper, the kid’s record is stacked and he’s got the skills to back it up.”
Viper sighed and could feel himself giving in. “Where am I supposed to find a decent, unattached RIO?”
He couldn’t see the captain shrug, but he could sure feel it. “I dunno. Call around? There’s gotta be somebody and they gotta be good. Kazansky doesn’t do well with less.”
“Hence his current lack of a RIO. He sounds like more trouble than he’s worth to me, Rob.”
“Just trust me. If nothing else, you wanna see him in action.” Buckshot soothed. “So I’ll send him your way?”
Viper sighed, rubbing at his temples while knowing that this headache went far deeper than that. “Alright. I’ll make some calls and try to get a RIO flown in.”
“Good luck. You won’t regret this.”
“Uh huh.” Viper doubted that, but waited for the call to drop before reaching out to some more carriers.
It was his fifth call that finally showed promise.
“A Top Gun-worthy RIO without a pilot, huh? Yeah, I got one of them right now. His regular pilot is on leave for a family emergency, but he’s still on deck.”
“And he really is good?” Viper stressed, a little wearily. If it weren’t for how much pride he took in the Top Gun program Jester definitely would’ve been the one dealing with this mess, not him.
He was nearly willing to give up, hand the reins to Jester, and call it a day.
“Yeah, he’s good. He actually had all the credentials to be a pilot. Got good scores, but switched to a RIO’s position in flight school. He’s completed all the work for both and it shows.”
Viper perked up a bit. “And you’d be able to send him here for the summer?”
He received a hum, some papers shuffling, then, “Yup. I’ll have to work it out once his pilot returns. But there shouldn’t be too much trouble and I’ve no use for him here right now. I’ll send Kerner your way.”
“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate it.”
Another hum, then, “Who is it he’s gonna be flying with?”
“A Lieutenant Kazansky. ‘Iceman.’”
“Iceman?!” Viper’s eyes narrowed at the surprised exclamation, a laugh underlying the man’s tone. “Well, Kerner will certainly have his work cut out for him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Viper asked tiredly, wishing once more that it was Jester dealing with this mess and not him.
“Not a thing, Commander. But you are gonna have quite the show.”
The words probably weren’t meant to sound as foreboding as they did.
oO0Oo
Slider sighed to himself as he carefully maneuvered the halls of the one and only Top Gun itself. He’d been pulled from an extra’s position on carrier for the sole purpose of flying with a pilot who, according to his CO, didn’t currently have a RIO.
(Due to said RIO refusing to fly with him. Yippee.)
And that pilot just so happened to be Iceman, someone he’d heard plenty of whispers about, but had never crossed paths with personally.
When he’d been travelling back Navy gossip had, for once, proved useful, filling him in on all the latest details about Iceman.
“…He attacked his last RIO for not giving readings quickly enough…”
“…He was put in for a promotion to Lieutenant Commander after only a year as a Lieutenant…”
“…He once braved five MiGs by himself…”
“…He’s trouble…”
“…Everyone wants to be him, no one wants to be near him…”
“…He’s like a plague…”
“…No one can stand being his backseater more than a month…”
“…Iceman? Yeah, I’ve heard of him. You’re better off in enemy territory in combat with a dead pilot than you are training with him…”
Everyone had something to say, but how much of what Slider heard could be trusted? That was a different story.
But, he had three months to find out for himself who ‘Iceman’ really was; and he got to start today, as he’d been cheerfully informed that his pilot had arrived two days prior.
Wonderful.
Slider arrived at his assigned barracks, pulling in a steadying breath as he mentally steeled himself. So he was stuck bunking and flying with someone their peers either feared or outright hated and who their superiors adored.
What was the worst that could happen?
He stepped into the barracks, noting the small kitchenette to his left and the two open doors to his right: the bedroom and bathroom. They were even allowed a small wooden table that looked like it’d been acquired straight from the city dump. Given that there was no sign of his new roomie, Slider assumed Iceman was out and walking into the empty bedroom solidified that.
Despite having already been here a couple days, Iceman’s side of the room was sparsely adorned. There was a clock on the left side of the large nightstand situated between the beds and a duffle shoved under the left bed. Their, apparently mutual, dresser sat at the foot of Iceman’s bunk, while a desk sat at the foot of Slider’s. Slider rolled his shoulders and dropped his bag on the mattress to his right, tackling the familiar process of unpacking. The sooner he got settled the sooner he could rest and get over his travel fatigue.
He’d finished putting away all his worldly possessions and was sat contemplating exploring base to gain his bearings after a quick shopping trip when the door opened, closing softly behind the intruder.
Showtime.
Slider didn’t move from where he was perched on his bed, jotting a shopping list down in his small notepad. Which, now that he thought about it, he also needed to replace, given that the remaining half of the pages were water-stained.
Soft, quick steps approached and Slider glanced up, expression carefully neutral. The steps paused, the blond who’d entered scanning him through narrowed navy eyes. He’d been at the gym, judging by the sweat-soaked gray t-shirt, loose black shorts, and water bottle that he set on the dresser.
Considering the wary look on Iceman’s face, Slider would have to be the one to make the first move.
Perfect. If there was any situation Slider could navigate, it was a socially-awkward one.
“Iceman, I take it?” He rose, offering a hand and a genial smile. “I’m Ron Kerner. ‘Slider.’”
“Tom Kazansky.” The pilot replied, shaking his hand firmly. Slate eyes were cool and closed-off when they met Slider’s, any feelings about their meeting obscured. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Slider backed off, taking in the tension practically radiating off the pilot: jaw clenched, shoulders up and taught, fists blanched. Iceman was wound tighter than spooled thread. “You want to go on a shopping spree with me once you shower? Need to stock up after being on carrier.”
Iceman’s eyes widened and his head jerked up and back a little, the blond visibly startled by the offer. Slider was just pleased that he’d gotten a visible reaction. As soon as the open expression appeared, though, it slipped away.
“No. Thank you, but I’ve got plans.” The words held no true remorse, but Slider wasn’t bothered. Some people just liked to maintain a professional relationship and nothing more, and he could work with that.
As such, he nodded, turning to flop back on his bed. “No worries. You want me to pick up anything while I’m out?”
Iceman’s head snapped up from where he’d been focused on Slider’s…hands? He thought that’s what had caught the pilot’s attention, anyway. For a brief second Iceman’s brow furrowed, lips pursing in what appeared to be genuine bafflement. But then the puzzled expression disappeared, replaced again by that already-irritating neutral mask.
“I appreciate it, but I’m alright.”
“Alright.” Slider hummed, undemanding. He went back to his list, jotting down a few more items as he thought of them and pretending not to notice the way Iceman was eyeing him. After a couple minutes, though, Iceman absconded to the bathroom, the shower starting not a minute later.
With their introduction out of the way, Slider sighed, easing himself upright and mentally running through his list as he ripped off the page and stuffed it in his pocket. Knowing his luck, he’d forgotten at least a couple things on it.
Thankfully, though, they were in the city, so anything he could possibly need was within walking distance if he became truly desperate.
oO0Oo
The next morning was orientation and that alone put Ron in a worse-than-usual mood. He knew traveling was a big part of his job, but that didn’t sway the annoyance at not having even twenty-four hours to breathe between arriving stateside and showing up ready to work.
Just one of the joys of the Navy.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, his walkman providing the only noise he was willing to listen to before his coffee set in. Iceman was absent from the mess and had been missing since Slider woke up. He didn’t see the pilot again until they were filtering towards their directed classroom. Then, he was following Iceman like an obedient RIO, allowing the blond to choose a seat on the left side of the room, perching in the middle row. Iceman’s head seemed to be on a constant swivel, cerulean gaze flicking rapidly over their classmates as the other pilot-RIO pairs filtered in. Even Slider received some level of scrutiny where he was stationed on Iceman’s left, though the pilot didn’t glance at him as often as he did the others.
Slider bit back a sigh, in no mood to deal with the blond’s jumpiness. He nodded at Sundown when the other man settled across from them, offering his past-RIO a small smile, before reclining in his seat. Ron threw a casual arm behind Iceman, relaxing and allowing himself to stare off into space as they awaited their instructor. Just because he wasn’t watching Iceman, though, didn’t mean that he didn’t notice when the blond leaned back a little and subsequently bristled at his touch, practically flinching away from him. Slider forced himself to some level of alertness, watching Iceman out of the corner of his eye to gauge the pilot’s response.
Iceman was ramrod straight, knuckles blanched from how tightly his fists were clenched in his lap, steadfast gaze on the front of the room where an instructor was now standing. Slider shifted, allowing his forearm to drop in the space between them so they wouldn’t touch. He saw Iceman twitch at the movement, even if he wasn’t looking at Slider.
Ron was almost positive he’d never met anyone this skittish, and that included veterans handling post-Vietnam syndrome and some of the more anxious types he’d met on carriers. Ever since their meeting the previous afternoon the blond was never not on edge.
So how was it that the entire Navy believed him to be ice-cold and emotionless?
The contradiction didn’t make any sense to Slider, but his attention was diverted when Jester began speaking.
It wasn’t like it mattered. His assignment as Iceman’s RIO was temporary. He just had to make it through the summer with the pilot, then he could go back to being Ranger’s backseater.
oO0Oo
Strobing lights, loud music, the familiar pulse of bodies. It was nice to be stateside, again, Mav mused as he followed his RIO through the O Club crowd, heading for the bar. They received their drinks quickly, each taking a pull of the alcohol as they scanned the room. Goose visibly paused, gaze fixed across the room, then nodded at Maverick.
“Mav.” Goose gestured him closer with a crooked finger. “You wanna know who the best is?” he asked, taking another swig of his drink and nodding across the room. “That’s him. Iceman.” A half-point with his left hand, as if it was needed to identify the blond that had been staring Mav down in orientation earlier. “That’s the way he flies: ice-cold, no mistakes. He wears you down. You get bored, frustrated, do something stupid, he’s got you.”
Mav considered the other pilot silently, cataloging Nick’s words. Beside him, Goose turned back around, almost immediately grinning. “Hey-Hey, Slider!”
“Goose.” The brunette greeted with a small smirk, shaking Goose’s hand easily.
“Ron Kerner, this is my pilot, Pete Mitchell.”
Slider nodded, eyeing the pilot up and down a minute. “Where’d they dig up a kid like you?”
“Better a high schooler than a senior citizen. Is that gray in your hair, Kerner, or is that just the lighting?” Mav asked innocently and Slider grinned sharply.
“I like you.”
Maverick snickered. “Night’s barely started and you’re already making dumb decisions.”
Slider chuckled, eyes drifting to where Iceman was standing with an over-excited gaggle of girls, before he glanced at Goose.
“Can you tell me anything about him?” Slider asked the other RIO, jutting his chin in Iceman’s general direction and bringing a beer to his lips.
Goose’s eyebrows rose. “Why would you need me to tell you about him? He’s your pilot.”
Slider huffed. “I met him for the first time yesterday.”
“What?!” Both Maverick and Goose exclaimed, Mav nearly dropping his drink as he straightened from the bar.
“Yup. ‘pparently they wanted him here, but his last RIO refused to fly with him. My pilot had a family emergency, so I was volunteered to work with him for the summer.” Slider shrugged, taking a pull of his own drink.
“Refused to fly with him?” Maverick sputtered, then cackled. “That’s just the thing you wanna hear when you’re signed up to fly with someone against your will.”
Slider rolled his eyes, waving off the ribbing.
“Don’t forget, Mav, no one wanted to fly with you either, before I got to you.” Goose scolded gently. Maverick shrugged, unrepentant.
“They couldn’t keep up. Not my fault.”
“And it’s not Ice’s fault that his RIOs can’t handle his skills.” Goose replied smoothly.
“You do know him, right?” Slider questioned. At Goose’s nod, he continued, “So, what can you tell me about him?”
Goose hummed thoughtfully, his pilot also watching curiously. Slider had heard about both Iceman and Maverick before coming here, though neither had much good said about them. If there was any consolation, though, it was that Iceman was supposed to at least be a rule-follower, while Maverick seemed to go out of his way to break rules (as well as the laws of physics, while he was at it). If it weren’t for Nick vouching for the scrawny brunette, Slider likely would have treated the kid the same way Iceman currently was. Which was to say, with a distinct air of apprehensive curiosity at what the kid could really do in a plane.
“He’s…careful. Both in a plane and on the ground. He’s not used to people making any effort to befriend him and any that do he’s able to scare off. ‘Iceman’ wasn’t meant to be a compliment, you know.”
“Sounds like he doesn’t want any friends, Goose.” Maverick scoffed next to him, gaze flicking across the room to the pilot in question. Goose just hummed.
“Everyone wants friends, Pete. Sometimes they’re just not sure how to go about showing it.”
“Sounds like a challenge.” Ron smirked, but the glance Goose cast him was solemn.
“Just…go easy on him, Sli. From what I’ve heard, no one wants to fly with him. He’s too good. I personally wouldn’t mind going up with him, but I’ve already got a crazy pilot of my own.”
Maverick scoffed good-naturedly and Slider chuckled. “Yeah, but you forget that I also have a pilot. He’s just home sorting out some family stuff right now.” Both Ranger’s parents had been killed in a car accident, which was bad by itself, but the pilot’s two younger siblings were still teenagers, so Jon and his wife had to go through the legal loopholes of gaining custody of them while planning a double funeral. Slider didn’t envy him in the slightest and had readily offered his physical or monetary support. The offer stood, even if Ranger never ended up taking him up on it.
“Hey, yeah! I forgot to ask you about that!” Goose cried, expression lighting up. “What’s up with the RIO position, eh? Thought you wanted to be a pilot?”
Slider shrugged, “Didn’t suit me.” Something about sitting in the backseat, being responsible for directing, being relied on rather than relying on someone else for information, it was far more comforting than being the one holding the stick.
Who knew? Maybe he was just a backwards control freak. Instead of needing control over the plane, he needed control over all the different signals a RIO had to navigate at once.
Maverick snickered. “Was the seat not big enough?”
“Says the tiniest pilot in the Navy. I’m surprised you don’t need a booster seat to be allowed in a jet.” Slider scoffed back good-naturedly, much to Maverick’s mock chagrin. Slider had to admit, the brunette was growing on him, the sassy humor unsurprisingly akin to Nick’s, which had been the whole reason he got along with the other RIO to begin with.
“Well, look on the bright side.” Goose chuckled. “Being a RIO is what got you a chance to fly with the one and only ‘Iceman.’”
“That’s Mr. Iceman, to you.” Slider teased, gesturing to the pilot in question, who was now weaving his way over to them.
Iceman sent him a wary glance, but then his gaze landed on Goose and his expression softened, lips turning up in what appeared to be a genuine smile. “Hey, Mother Goose! How’s it going?”
Goose returned the smile, warmly shaking the blond’s hand. “It’s going good. Tom, this is Pete Mitchell. Tom Kazansky.” The introduction was as smooth as everything else Goose normally spewed and Slider eyed the interaction between the two pilots carefully.
After half a second of hesitation, Iceman offered a hand to shake Mav’s, expression turning at once curious and calculating.
“Congratulations on Top Gun.” Iceman offered, his smile more polite, now. Less genuine.
“Thank you.”
“Sorry to hear about Cougar. He and I were like brothers in flight school.” That must have been quite the feat if Iceman was admitting to it. Iceman reached past Mav to steal a handful of peanuts off the bartop, shoulders tensing. Despite being boxed in, Maverick maintained his relaxed air, but his gaze was sharp. Knowing how protective Goose was, Slider was mildly surprised the RIO wasn’t stepping in. “He was a good man.”
Maverick took a breath, jaw twitching, eyes narrowing a little. “Still is a good man.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Iceman dismissed.
“Thought so.” Maverick muttered, raising his beer to his lips. Slider glanced at Goose, but the younger man met his eyes and shook his head slightly. Huh. Maybe Goose was more fond of Iceman than Slider had first assumed.
“Say, you need any help?” Iceman asked, the words a clear challenge. An attempt to get a rise out of Maverick.
To the brunette’s credit, though, he didn’t take the bait, swallowing his beer before replying, “With what?”
Iceman actually grinned at that, something predatory, blue eyes laughing. “Figured it out yet?”
Slider was starting to wonder who’d throw the first punch, because that seemed like the only thing that could result from this prodding, but Maverick was far cooler than Ron had first given him credit for, still casually leaned against the bar. “What’s that?”
“Who’s the best pilot?” Another tease, another attempt at picking a fight.
“No, I think I can figure that one out on my own.”
Iceman smiled, nodding as if he’d expected the answer. “I heard that about you.” But then in a split-second his expression shifted, becoming far more solemn, more analyzing. “You like to work alone.”
Maverick stared him down, then smiled and Slider figured he should step in before this tense back-and-forth escalated any more than it already had.
“I dunno. Sometimes you gotta make the call based on who you’re working with.”
Iceman’s gaze snapped to him sharply, as if the pilot had forgotten he was there. Slider ignored the burning intensity in those narrowed eyes, meeting Iceman’s stare with one of his own, one eyebrow cocked in a clear dare.
Goose huffed, smiling a little warily, gaze flicking between them. “You know, I think you two will work fine together, while we’re on the subject. Ice, didja know that Slider, here, had all the credentials to be a pilot?”
Slider bit back the urge to scowl. He didn’t need Goose playing matchmaker, this was a temporary assignment. Regardless, Nick’s earlier words about Iceman were still very-much at the forefront of his mind and he wondered how hard could it be, really, to befriend the guy?
Goose had done it, so it obviously couldn’t be too difficult.
But Iceman’s expression flickered at the words, brow furrowing for half a second as he glanced from Goose to Slider, as if waiting for verification. “Is that right?”
“Yup.” Slider affirmed easily, catching the way Maverick had relaxed, despite not visibly tensing in the first place. “Flew a few BFMs, but didn’t feel right. There’s something to be said for being in charge of the more technical side of things.”
Iceman nodded slowly, almost absently. “There is, yes.”
Goose huffed at them. “Well, there you go. Sli’s got the know-how of all the flips and switches as well as the experience of a pilot, and Ice has some of the fastest reaction times I’ve ever seen and the patience to outlast most anybody. I think you’ll make a good pair for the summer.”
“After all,” Maverick butt in with a teasing grin, “Your second-place spot depends on it.”
Iceman cocked a brow, but Slider scoffed before the pilot could reply. “Hey, now, we aren’t gonna be treading on your territory, Mav. That nonexistent silver trophy is all yours.”
Goose honked a laugh, shoving Maverick’s shoulder playfully while the brunette spluttered a protest. Slider chuckled at him, watching Iceman out of the corner of his eye. The blond’s gaze was flicking between them, something wary there, expression closed off.
His wandering eyes came to rest on Goose and he nodded, a small smile once more flickering onto his face. “See you bright and early tomorrow, Bradshaw.”
“Count on it.” Goose winked, offering the pilot a warm smile. Iceman’s frame relaxed slightly, tension visibly leaving his shoulders and he nodded once at Slider and Maverick, before disappearing back into the crowd. Slider watched him go, a frown tugging at his lips.
“He’s prickly, huh?”
Goose snorted into his drink, coughing for air while Maverick laughed at him, thumping his back. With a wheezy chuckle Goose replied, “That’s certainly one word for it. There’s a reason he called me ‘Mother Goose.’ Took a lot of smothering to get through to him.”
Maverick’s surprised expression likely mirrored his own. “Iceman was the one who gave you your call sign?”
“Yup.” Goose affirmed with a grin, hazarding another swallow of his drink now that he wasn’t actively choking.
“Kid can’t be all bad if you decided to smother him in Academy.” Slider chuckled in an attempt to hide his own mixed feelings over the pilot.
“‘Kid’ is right.” Goose scoffed. Then, “He reminded me a lot of Mav, actually. There’s just something about a wide-eyed, baby-faced teen that has me pulling out adoption papers.”
Now it was Maverick’s turn to laugh, but Slider’s eyes narrowed. “Just how old is he?”
“Twenty three.” Goose answered casually and as hard as Slider fought it, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his little sister who was about the same age.
Maverick whistled low. “He’s only a year older than me? Didn’t think I’d be seeing anybody that young around here.”
Slider’s head snapped to the pilot. “You’re twenty two?!”
“Yup.” Mav answered with a shark’s grin, looking far too pleased with his reaction while Goose laughed at him.