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"You putting all on red, shortcake?"
Mav glances over his shoulder and rolls his eyes seeing Slider's shit-eating grin. He elbows his oldest friend, nudging him away from his chips. "You get your filthy mitts away from my money, you big lug."
"Hey now, that's just mean—"
"Just because you already lost all your chips, doesn't mean I'm letting you drag me down with you."
Slider huffs. Reaches out to steal one of Mav's poker chips, Mav slaps him away. Tosses him a $50 chip a second later. "Here. Take this and go bug Warlock."
"Why not Cyclone?" Slider's grin gets wider. "Oh, is it because you want to bug our three-star Admiral, hmm?"
Mav refuses to blush. He shouldn't have told Slider about his crush (that's more than a crush if he's honest) on the man who had given him a chance with the Uranium Mission, a chance to show how it's not a bad decision to back Pete Mitchell. The man he’s become close friends with in the two years since the mission. Should've known he still couldn't keep up with Slider when it came to drinking, and he has so much inside of him, always feels so much that he usually keeps pushed down, words not exactly his strong point and preferring to let his actions do the talking - it had been inevitable really, that he'd end up blurting out his romantic and wistful desires when it came to Beau Simpson.
”Fuck off.”
Mav places half his chips on black, and then the croupier confirms the bets are closed. Slider looms behind Mav as they watch, and then shakes his shoulders when black wins. “Get in, Mav! All this money you win will make up for you being a pain in the ass - Cy will be dropping trou in no time.”
”Stop wrinkling my suit, you dumbass,” Mav huffs; shrugging Slider’s hands off him, before dragging his now even bigger pile of chips towards his chest. “And I’m not sure any amount of money would counterbalance the rest of me, but Beau knows what I’m like anyway.”
”D’aww, you saying he’ll have to love you for yourself? How sickeningly sweet. I’ll go ask him if he does.” Slider twists on the spot, the intent to go bother Cyclone clear in the determined set of his shoulders.
Mav grabs Slider by the back of his collar, and yanks him backwards. “I swear, if you so much as say one word—“
Slider just cackles, undeterred by Mav’s threats, but then that’s always been the way. Mav sighs and releases him. Shoving $200 dollars worth of chips at him. “Please just go bug Warlock. This is meant to be a fun old boys weekend, remember? And he seems to enjoy your company. God knows why."
”Less of the old, thank you. I dunno about you, but I’m still in my prime.”
”Uh huh. And is your going away commencing anytime soon?”
Slider rolls his eyes, and swipes another chip from Mav’s pile of winnings. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. But only if you go find Cy. We’re in Vegas, Mav. Take a risk - tell him how you feel. You never know, you might just win big!”
And with that he spins around and heads in the direction of the Blackjack table, where Mav can see Warlock sitting in front of a decent pile of chips. He watches for a moment; huffing in fond exasperation as Slider loops his arm around Warlock's shoulders and smacks a wet kiss to his dark cheek. Warlock steals one of the chips Mav had given Slider from his large hands and Slider gasps in mock outrage. Serves him right.
Mav sighs and looks around the room for Cyclone; Slider’s suggestion bouncing around his head like a pinball machine. The mere thought of telling Beau that Mav likes him romantically (more than likes if he’s being honest), having fallen for him deeper and deeper, the more he got to know him, makes his heart almost beat out of his chest.
Cyclone could say he loves him back, and the risk might pay off. Or he could laugh at Mav and say, in your dreams, and Mav would be crushed. Breaking not only his heart but the friendship between them that Mav has come to treasure.
Even here in Vegas, it feels a little like a bet too far.
But still, he's missed him.
Mav had forced himself to play roulette away from where Cyclone was settled in front of a slot machine, because he didn’t want to come across as pathetic and obsessed. Even if Mav would've just happily sat and lost all his money on one of those infernal machines if it meant getting to spend time with just Beau.
Carding his fingers through his hair with a groan of resignation, Mav collects his winnings, stuffing the chips in his suit pockets to exchange later and winds his way through the crowd towards Cyclone.
"How's it going?" Mav asks; leaning up against the side of the slot machine Cyclone is sat at, trying to act casual.
"Hmm. Average. You?"
"Yeah, pretty good. Think I'm gonna tap out. Take a walk."
Cyclone looks at him then; intense gaze searing into him. "Fancy some company? Think I've had enough gambling for one day."
"Uh, sure. Yeah that would be nice."
Cyclone smiles as he gathers his remaining tokens and Mav surreptitiously tugs on the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling warm. Warlock had said they needed to dress up if they were visiting casinos, and Mav had grumbled but still done it, but fuck, he'd prefer his t-shirt and jeans right now. Easier to run in, and Mav's not sure if he'll need to run when he finds the courage to tell Cyclone how he feels.
If he does find his courage, that is.
They collect their winnings and Cyclone arches an impressed brow as Mav pockets his large wad of notes. "Got lucky," he says; blushing to the tips of his ears.
"Should've rubbed off on you for luck before we all split up," Cyclone responds, pushing open the door out onto the strip.
Mav chokes on his own spit picturing exactly how Cyclone could rub off on him, and stumbles outside behind him, coughing as he puts one foot in front of the other.
"You alright?" Cyclone pats and rubs Mav between the shoulders, and Mav gasps out a yes, nodding frantically.
"I'm good," he wheezes, once he’s caught his breath. "Swallowed wrong."
"Thought swallowing would be a skill you'd be good at, Captain." Cyclone winks at him and stuffing his hands in his suit trouser pockets, practically skips off down the strip, chuckling to himself leaving Mav staring at his (very nice) back, gawping at him like an idiot.
"He did not just fucking say that," he grumbles to himself, aghast. "What a bastard. A sexy bastard, but still a bastard.”
Mav huffs and jogs to catch up to Cyclone; the lights dazzling above them, fighting the stars for attention. He bumps shoulders with Cyclone, looking around. “Where are we going?”
”Not sure. Whatever’s this way, I reckon.”
”Admiral Simpson, without a plan? Am I hearing things?”
Cyclone rolls his eyes. “Let’s just say I’ve learned to embrace of the chaos in life and be more spontaneous.”
”Oh, yeah? Since when?” The other man pauses mid-step and Mav eases to a confused stop alongside him as Cyclone turns to look at him. “Beau?”
”Since I met you.”
Mav blinks at him. “What?”
”I learned to embrace the chaos and be more spontaneous since I met you, Mav.”
His throat spasms under the splay of his hand, trying not to hope. “I… I don’t know whether to say you’re welcome or apologise.”
Cyclone laughs softly, and starts walking again. “Probably a bit of both.”
”Well then, I’m sorry and you’re welcome.”
”Thank you.”
Mav looks around at the massive billboards and the neon signs, and his eyes linger on the bell above a cosy little chapel. Stops and stares up at it, the sign of a heart above the entrance corny but sort of endearing. “You ever think about getting married, Cy?” he finds himself asking.
Cyclone stands next to him, close enough his body heat seeps into Mav’s bones through his dark grey suit - Cyclone looking dapper in navy blue. “If the right person wanted to spend their life with me then I’d marry them in a heart beat.”
“And who’s the right person for you, Admiral?” Mav’s not sure why he asks, only that everything he’s learned about Cyclone since they became friends has just made him like him more of a person, so learning this one more thing can’t hurt.
Still, it feels like his heart is in his throat as he waits for Cyclone to answer.
“Someone funny, kind, brave—“ Cyclone wets his lips; eyes sparkling like emeralds under the dancing lights. “Someone who I can be myself with. Someone attractive but a big heart is more important than looks. Someone who makes me remember what it was like to fly even though I’ve not been in a cockpit for too many years.”
”Wow, that’s - uh —“ Mav clears his throat, toeing at the sidewalk. “They sound amazing. You met them yet?”
Cyclone’s fingers brush his own, and Mav feels like he’s having an out of body experience as the other man tangles their fingers together, so they’re holding hands. “I’m looking at him,” he says, painfully sincere.
Mav turns and Cyclone is staring straight at him. “Oh,” a sob hiccups in his chest and Mav rubs at his sternum with his free hand. “Oh, damn you, Beau.”
”Did I say something wrong—“
”No! No, I just… I was trying to work up the courage to tell you I like you - more than like you if I’m being honest - and you just went and said that.”
“Well, I’m not apologising.”
Mav chuckles, it sounds horribly wet, tears clogging his throat. “Wasn’t gonna ask you to.”
Cyclone gestures at the chapel with their joined hands and says, “So, how about it, Mav? Fancy getting married?”
”We’re not - We’re not even together, isn’t this, I dunno, a bit soon or all in the wrong order?”
”We can do it in whatever order we like, Mav,” Cyclone says, annoyingly calm.
”Okay, well - what about sex?!”
Cyclone smirks at him. “What about it?”
Maverick huffs in frustration, combing his spare hand through his hair. His heart is going a mile a minute and he feels like he might throw up from nerves, unsure if his questions will ruin things or make Cyclone take the proposal back, but he needs to ask these things, because nothing is making sense.
Like, why would Cyclone want to marry him of all people? It was insane.
”How do we know we won’t get married and then go to bed together and it’s - I dunno….shit?”
Cyclone has the audacity to chuckle. “Sex with you would never be shit, Mav. It’s just not in your nature not to be good at things you put your mind to, but, if you want to see what we’ll be like, then I’m happy to show you.”
Mav gulps, flushing all over, imaging Cyclone pushing him up against the wall and just fucking into him like a beast. “Right now?” he croaks.
”I’m not going to fuck you right now, Mav.” He doesn’t know whether to sigh in relief or sob in disappointment. “But I can do something else.”
And before Mav can even open his mouth to ask what, Cyclone cups his face in impossibly gentle hands. Thumbs at the ridges of his cheek bones and huffs softly. "You really are ridiculously beautiful, Pete," he says, before dipping his head and slotting their mouths together.
And oh, they fit together perfectly. Cyclone's lips are firm and soft, and Mav can taste the whisky he'd be sipping at earlier. He kisses Mav with just the right amount of pressure to make his toes curl in his shoes, and his hand come up to thread through the short hairs at his nape, and for Mav to be sure he never wants to kiss anyone else, ever again.
Cyclone flicks his tongue against the seam of Mav's mouth, and Mav is helpless to do anything but let him in. Mav presses in close, raising up on his tip toes and curling his arm around Cyclone's neck so they're chest to chest. Hums into the kiss and slides his tongue against his, turning the kiss wet and filthy.
"Yes," he husks once they both pull back; Cyclone's mouth look bruised, cherry pink and slick with their shared spit. Mav forces down the need to kiss him again.
"Hmm?" Cyclone blinks slowly, like he's trying to reboot his brain. Mav grins smugly, smoothing down the collar of Cyclone's shirt where he'd accidentally wrinkled it.
"I'm saying yes to your proposal, Beau. I'll marry you."
Cyclone stares at him for a long moment and then he laughs; bright and fully of joy, tugging Mav close again and kissing him fiercely, swinging him around.
Mav just holds on tight and lets himself be swung and kissed.
"I can't believe you said yes," Cyclone says, setting Mav back down on his feet.
"Can't believe you actually asked in the first place."
"Well, I'm rather in love with you, Mav, so what else was I supposed to do?"
Mav feels like the breath has been punched out of him, the easy way Cyclone admits to his love. "You - ah - make a fair point. I... I love you too by the way."
"That's good. This would be a bit awkward otherwise."
Mav wets his lips, and looks are Cyclone's face; so handsome and such a solid presence, Mav struggles to remember what his life was like before he was so important a part of it.
"People will think we're mad, getting married when we've not even been on a date."
Cyclone shrugs loosely. "Let them. You're Maverick. You make your own rules."
Mav huffs out a nod, well used to rumours about his sanity over the years. "What's your excuse?"
"I just really want to marry you."
Mav stops holding back then, and kisses him again and again, until they agree they really need to move.
They giggle and fall into each other as they stumble towards the chapel entrance; high on the joy of declaring their feelings as opposed to the small amount of alcohol in their veins.
"Wait!" Mav yells just at they're at the door.
"What is it?"
"We need witnesses."
Cyclone chuffs and tips his chin in the direction behind Mav. Mav turns and his face falls in shock seeing Slider and Warlock stood together, grinning like a pair of dumbasses.
"What are you doing here?" Mav shouts jovially, unable to stop himself grinning back at them.
"We figured you'd end up here," Warlock says, wandering closer. "And we didn’t want to miss the show."
Mav frowns. "What do you mean you figured we'd end up here?"
Warlock snorts out a laugh. "While Slider was dealing with your pining ass, I had to deal with Beau yearning for you like a goddamn Jane Austen character. If you didn’t end up here, me and Ron were going to kidnap you both and dump you here anyway."
"Yeah, Shortcake," Slider adds. "This whole trip was designed to either get you two to confess your feelings naturally or some other way if it came to that."
"Oh. Well. Good job we made it here ourselves then. Don't want to get married wearing a wrinkled suit from where they'd trussed us up and dumped us here, right, Cy?"
"No, we do not. Now come on. I don't want to wait any longer to make you my husband so I can ravish you in my hotel room."
Mav is absolutely besotted, and he might have won a lot of money on the roulette, but he's won an ever bigger and better prize with Beau.
Cyclone links their arms together as they enter the chapel, and Mav ignores the hootering and hollaring of Slider and Warlock behind them.
And then twenty minutes later when the officiant declares them husband and husband, Mav grabs Cyclone by the ears and kisses him breathless, very much looking forward to his new life with the man he loves.
(And most importantly starting it all by getting his brains fucked out repeatedly.)