Work Text:
Maverick's been at Top Gun for a little over three years now. He never thought he'd like it, the teaching, paperwork, the lesson plans; but he does, he even cares about the kids (who are pompous motherfuckers in the air and on the ground). They like to give him shit for his height, and in retaliation he kicks their asses in the sky and laughs at the swear words that tumble out of their mouths when he sneaks up behind them. He and Charlie had gone their separate ways shortly after the Enterprise and in hindsight, their relationship wasn't exactly the healthiest. He still goes out to the O-Club, grabs a beer and chit-chats with whomever from their squadron's in town. Hollywood and Wolfman were stationed at Miramar for a good six months until they were shipped out to the Gerald Ford in the South China sea, and Maverick already misses them because now, who the fuck is he going to bitch to about Tom Kazansky with hearts in his eyes and a dopey smile that occupies his entire face.
Why the fuck don't you ask him out?" Hollywood interrupts him after a ten minute sappy monologue about how Iceman's eyes are the prettiest Maverick has ever seen one calm night after they've all finished their shifts. He shrugs before taking a sip of his now lukewarm beer and his face contorts into a grimace at his friend's words.
"Wood, he doesn't even swing that way like I do, like we do." He gestures with a handwave towards the other pilots, who's unoccupied hands barely graze each other's as they rest on the scant few inches of space between them in the booth.
"Please tell me you're fucking joking, Mav."
" 'm not." Pete grumbles around his beer. Wolfe cackles like he learned from Goose the first day of classes until he wipes fake tears from his eyes and Maverick gives him the finger.
"Mitchell, for as damn good a pilot as you are. You're really fucking stupid when it comes to feelings. Admit it."
"Admit what?" Maverick snaps and Leonard rolls his eyes while slumping back in the booth more.
"That you're in love with the big bad Iceman."
Maverick's cheeks turn pink at the thought. He knows he's had some sort of feelings for Ice for a while, he's just been too afraid to put a label on them, for the past three years, ever since they almost died together fighting off MiG's that ended in a cheerful celebration on the deck of the Enterprise with shared smiles, breathless laughs, and a handshake turned hug that made a lightbulb go off in Maverick's head as Tom Kazansky had his strong arms tightly wrapped around Maverick's smaller frame. And ever since that day, the small inconsequential dot of feelings he had locked away in the back of his mind in a box labeled Iceman, had grown until every time he hears Ice's name butterflies stick in his throat and his eyes light up like the Fourth of July.
God, Pete's been in love with Tom fucking Kazansky for years and it took two of his fucking squad members to spell it out for him. He almost feels Goose smack him upside the head for only just figuring this out now.
"So what if I am?" Pete says under his breath, and there's a small thrill that courses through him at finally admitting he's in love with Ice. he doesn't say the omission too quiet where his drinking companions can't hear. "Doesn't change a fuckin' thing about my predicament."
"Have you maybe considered the thought that he might love you back?" Hollywood asks and Maverick pauses, Tom Kazansky, in love with him? A guy can fucking dream, he knows there's no way in hell, but at the insistence of Wood and Wolfe's comments, he dares himself to have the smallest ray of hope.
"Nah, I guess I'll just pine after him from afar like a fucking lovesick puppy." He says before downing the rest of his beer, getting up, and throwing down a twenty on the table to cover for his drinks and tip. "See ya tomorrow boys." He waves before heading out the front door, his heart heavy and the thoughts of Iceman's smile weighing on his mind.
What Maverick didn't see coming, just a few weeks after that specific conversation with Hollywood and Wolfman and they'd already been shipped out, was the Iceman himself knocking on his front door at ten o'clock at night with a cardboard box filled to the brim with Chinese food.
The words that were about to leave Tom's lips died when the taller pilot saw his wingman's face and from what peaks out underneath his shirt covered in bruises.
"Ice?" Maverick groans, half asleep and is still partially thinking that the love of his life standing on his doorstep out of the blue is just a dream that he nearly pinches himself to make sure.
"The fuck are you doing here? Come on, it's fucking raining and you're letting a draft in."
He makes Ice put the downright gigantic box of food down on the coffee table before he limps into the kitchen to grab them both a beer. He doesn't hear the footsteps that followed him into the other room and when he turns around from the fridge the taller pilot is standing in the entranceway, doing nothing but staring at his wingman, his hands are folded against his chest as his glacial eyes rake up and down Pete's frame.
Pete sucks in a breath, white-knuckling the necks of the beer bottles in his hands as Tom stalks closer until he's crowded Pete up against the countertop. He raises his hand and grasps Pete's chin gently, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze once more, and Maverick hadn't realized that he had ever dropped his head.
Ice runs his thumb across Pete's jaw, cataloguing each bruise he sees and touches, he's already swiftly grabbed the glass bottles from Maverick's hands and placed them on the counter behind them without even looking. The air is thick with something that Maverick can't describe and the silence makes him want to scream.
"Who did this to you?" Ice asks calmly, quietly enough to not spook the other man but Maverick can see the rage in his eyes building with intensity every second that passes and some fucking emotion runs through him that makes him not want to look at Ice anymore, lest he blurt out the words I and love and you that makes his wingman run for the hills and never talk to him again; and Maverick couldn't survive not having Tom Kazansky in his life, so he closes his eyes and tries to push his chin back down in defiance.
"Maverick." Ice growls and holy shit Pete thinks, he's never heard Ice say his name like that before and he's filing it away for later in the shower when he can pretend his left hand is Ice's and the other man is groaning sweet praises in his ear.
"Tell me." Tom whispers, and suddenly the barriers are gone and Maverick lets the words he was holding back tumble out of his mouth like he's in a hypnotic trance and will do anything Ice says without question.
"Two stupid fucking lieutenants at the O-Club. I beat them at pool, but I was drunk and ran my damn mouth too much, and they had a bigger group of friends than I knew about. They all ambushed me as I was leaving."
He hears Ice sigh, and he decides to curl in on himself because it's his own fault he's sore, bruised and bloodied, and he still can't look at his wingman.
What does surprise him is when Tom's arms wrap around him, careful to not disturb any of his injuries. Maverick decides to throw caution to the wind and snuggle himself up against the taller man's chest and he can hear the flutter of Tom's heartbeat that grounds Pete in it's steady rhythm.
"Did you get yourself checked out?" Ice whispers into his hair and he shakes his head no in response, unable to form words because he's so comfortable wrapped in Tom Kazansky's arms that he never wants to leave. If he could stay enveloped in Ice's embrace forever he would die happy and for the first time in three years Pete Mitchell feels loved.
The small flower of hope he's had for the past few weeks unfurls just a little bit more in his chest.
"Goddamnit, Pete."
"'m sorry." He responds weakly against Ice's sternum.
Maverick lets out a watery laugh. " If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure I broke some fucker's nose."
"Good, the asshole deserved it."
"Thought you were on assignment?" Pete questions as they pull apart from the warm embrace and Tom sighs, his hands still on the shorter man's shoulders and rolls his eyes fondly.
"We got caught in a bird strike. Had to eject and Slider got his left arm caught in the parachute straps. They gave us a choice, either a few weeks leave and back to Hawaii, or we come here and teach Top Gun for the next six months."
Maverick sucks in another breath. Bird strike. Slider's broken arm. Hawaii. Top Gun. Ice teaching at Top Gun for the foreseeable future.
Holy fucking shit.
"Christ, Kazansky, are you hurt?! Why the fuck are you asking about me if you were in a goddamn bird strike!" Mav blabbers at top speed, poking and prodding his wingman's body, checking his pupils for any dilation considered abnormal, and Ice just lets him. Lets him touch and map out any visible bruises or scars from old accidents past and it echoes back to ten minutes ago, when Maverick was reluctant to even show his wingman the injuries he had collected from the assholes at the O-Club the night before. Where Pete was more withdrawn, Ice is open, showing his friend to reassure him he's alive and here. Maverick hears Ice's grumbling laughter from above him and he didn't realize that his stomach's been making noises for the past few minutes.
"You done?" Ice asks with a raised eyebrow and a twinkling smile that makes Pete's hear skip a beat. The tension from before is almost completely gone, something warm and familiar taking its place. Ice grabs the beers from the counter behind them and Maverick puts on the late Red Sox game as they bitch back and forth and fuck Pete could easily get addicted to having Ice around, a more constant presence in his life rather than every few months where their leaves would coincide. They talk until the early hours of the morning, not even realizing how fast the time has flown until Tom cracks a yawn and Pete looks at the clock to find that it's nearly four in the morning. He follows Ice out onto his front porch as they exchange their goodbyes. Ice pulls him into another spine crushing hug full of warmth, and it takes everything within Maverick to not drag his wingman down for a kiss and whisper a soft "stay" from his lips.
But he can't. He knows he can't and it hurts.
He comes into the living room after Ice leaves and sees the man's old Academy sweatshirt left on the couch. It's almost embarrassing how fast Pete strips off his own clothes and lets the softness of the sweatshirt fall across his shoulders and down the planes of his chest. It's almost as if Ice had left the article of clothing on purpose, to give Pete some comfort and protection while he sleeps. The top is too big for him, because Tom is a fucking giant with a nine inch height difference between the two of them. The sleeves are too long for Maverick's arms and the neckline partially slides down his right shoulder.
He falls asleep wearing the sweatshirt, his nose buried in the collar, breathing in Ice's scent with every inhale. It's the best night of sleep he's gotten in three years.
Unfortunately, Maverick's abruptly awoken, again, by a loud incessant banging on his front door. It's ten in the morning, he's slept a little under six hours, and he still feels sore from the fight as he sleepily wobbles down the stairs.
He opens the door to see Slider standing there, his left arm stuck in a neon pink cast that someone's already apparently drawn on a crude picture of a pair of tits and a near perfect anatomical rendering of a dick with a winking smiley face. Slider gives him the once-over and cocks an eyebrow at him that Pete's too fucking tired to read into right now.
"What do you want Kerner? You interrupted my beauty sleep."
Slider huffs out an annoyed breath as he jerks his head to the occupied rocking chair on Maverick's front porch, where a loudly snoring Tom Kazansky sits with his head slumped against his shoulders. Ice's knuckles are adorned with freshly dried blood, as well as sporting butterfly stitches above his right eyebrow.
"What happened to him?" Pete asks and Slider lets out a long sigh and pinches his nose in-between two fingers.
"I had to go bail this fucker's ass out of jail at nine this morning."
Maverick decides that he really isn't awake enough for this shit.
"What'd he do?" He groans, raking a hand across his face. Slider kicks the rocking chair that makes Ice wake up with a snort and a middle finger.
"Ask him yourself, Mitchell. I'm done with this shit."
"Wh-you're leaving him here?!" Pete hollers at Slider's retreating form, his hands up in the air because he has absolutely no fucking clue what's going on, has so many questions that are rattling inside his head at Mach 2 that he almost thinks it's possible to give himself a concussion for just thinking.
"Maverick," Slider turns, his hand on the car door. His aviators are perched just low enough on his nose that Mav can see the glare the other man's giving him from the driveway.
"Ice went to jail because of you."
Maverick freezes. He doesn't say anything while Kerner struggles to drive away with a broken arm and accidentally hits his mailbox backing out. The old wooden deck creaks under his feet and the vibrations of someone else walking across his porch registers through his mind.
He still hasn't looked at Ice, even though he desperately wants to and it's unnerving how quiet it is, save for the distant crashing of waves upon the shoreline. He leans up against the railing to take some of his weight off his still bruised bones and the ankle he twisted in the fight.
Talk to me, Goose. He whispers in the back of his mind, begging for any kind of advice his best friend can offer him. He's flying blind, completely and utterly at the will of someone else who's not fucking talking.
"What did Slider mean, when he said you went to jail for me?" Pete says softly, to wherever Ice is on his porch.
There's no response, and it pisses Maverick off because he's not getting any fucking answers from anyone, and it's pretty god damn annoying at this stage.
He turns around to finally confront his wingman, and his fucking knees almost give out underneath him at the gaze Ice is leveling towards him right now and Jesus fuck he can't breathe.
Tom Kazansky is looking at him with blatantly open want. It's intoxicating to say the least. The Iceman has a predatory grin that flashes perfectly white teeth and Maverick feels like he's been cornered by a feral and ravenous wolf that's about two seconds away from devouring their prey with a snap of its jaws.
Ice stalks closer, coming nearly chest to chest with his wingman as he outstretches a bloody hand that lands gently on the collar of the sweatshirt that's halfway down Maverick's shoulder.
Fuck. The sweatshirt. The sweatshirt he's wearing with nothing underneath except for his boxers and dog tags. Ice's sweatshirt.
That's why Slider looked at him funny earlier, and probably why Ice is looking at him now with open lust dancing in his eyes. He's practically giftwrapped himself without even knowing, the sweatshirt even has KAZANSKY written in big bold letters across the back.
"They hurt you." Ice grumbles into the shared microscopic space between them. He traces his thumb across the skin of Maverick's shoulder and the shorter pilot still hasn't taken a breath. Oh. Oh.
Ice beat the shit out of his attackers from the bar. By himself. At four in the fucking morning.
God, Maverick loves this man so much he can hardly stand it.
"What happened to them?" Maverick asks, and the thumb on his shoulder presses tighter into his skin, enough to leave a small bruise in it's wake, and Maverick brings his shoulder up so that the thumb can press harder and leave a deeper mark.
"I broke one guy's jaw, the other I kicked in the ribs. They had to be put in an ambulance and taken to the base hospital."
Maverick lets out a whimper, which is apparently enough for Ice to pin him against the fence and pull him into a hard, bruising kiss that has Mav scrambling for purchase as he grabs handfuls of Ice's shirt as the taller pilot brings his hands down to the back of Pete's thighs and lifts him with ease. Maverick's legs wrap around the blonde's waist and they both groan at the friction. Maverick very much wants this to continue, but he also doesn't want to traumatize his neighbors if he lets Ice fuck him against the railing of the porch. He moans an "inside," against Ice's lips and the taller man gets the message, kicking open the front door with Maverick still in his arms. The younger pilot reaches blindly with his unoccupied hand that's not now in Ice's hair to slam the door shut behind them, before Tom pins him up against said wooden panel and shove his tongue deeper into Pete's mouth.
The break apart when both of their lungs are screaming for air. Maverick laughs as Ice sucks a bruise into his neck.
"God, look at you Mav, So fucking pretty. Wearing my clothes and my name on the back." Fuck, Ice's voice is so goddamn sinful it sends sparks throughout Maverick's whole body and he shivers as he presses closer to the taller pilot. Ice's lips are swollen, his cheeks are dusted with pink and his pupils are blown and shit Maverick never wants to stop kissing this man for as long as he lives.
"Wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long-"
"I love you," Maverick interjects, unable to hold back the words any longer and fuck Tom freezes and his grip wobbles on Pete's ass.
Shit. Maybe he got it wrong. Maybe this was just a fuck for Tom, a one time thing before it's back to normal and Pete doesn't think he can take it, being so close to having everything he wanted only for it to be ripped away at the last second. His eyes well up in tears and his heart starts to shatter into a million pieces before he feels a gentle hand caressing his cheek, wiping his tears away before tilting his chin up to meet Ice's own tearful expression and Maverick doesn't even know what to think right now. He's giving his heart, his love, his entire being to Ice on a fucking silver platter and it's even more terrifying than taking on five MiG's over the open ocean.
"Do you really mean it?" Ice asks, his own eyes welling up in tears. It doesn't take a fool to figure out why Ice is so shocked and almost scared, it does make Mav want to pull the other man in for another kiss and hold him in bed until Tom knows that he loves him.
Someone has broken Tom Kazansky's heart. But goddamnit if Maverick won't try his damndest to fix it as best as he can.
"Tom, I'd marry you if I could-" Ice silences him with another bruising kiss that tears Maverick apart before making him whole again. His axis of gravity changes once more as Tom abruptly pulls them both away from the door before heading up the stairs into Pete's bedroom. He deposits Maverick gently with a soft bounce on the bed before proceeding to tear off his clothes rapidly. Mav takes the hint and pulls his own boxers down and his fingers wander to the sweatshirt. A hand shoots out to grab his wrist in a tight grip.
"That, stays on." Ice growls as he pulls his lover in for another burning kiss, this one quicker to end than Maverick would've liked.
"Lube?" His wingman asks with a raised eyebrow and fuck they're actually doing this. Mav's giggly with excitement as he throws open his bedside drawer to a half-used bottle of Astroglide and Ice's eyebrow climbs higher enough to where it almost reaches into his hairline and Pete laughs at his love's expression.
"Anyone else you use this bottle with?" Ice questions, calm as can be like he's talking to him about trivial shit on the tarmac as he works a finger in and Maverick almost sobs at the contact. His fingers scrabble at the sheets, desperate to grab onto something as Ice painstakingly works him open, his fingers caressing that magic spot inside Maverick that makes the younger pilot whimper pitifully.
"No one else, only you, Ice-please." Pete moans and he feels Tom's feral smile on the inside of his thigh as he inserts a third finger.
"So good for me, Mav. Can't believe I get to do this, get to fuck you, get to love you-"
"Please, Tom, 'sall I ever wanted." Maverick gasps as Ice removes his fingers slowly before dragging him up by the collar of that fucking sweatshirt and he arches up to meet Ice's mouth again and again before Ice trails kisses down his jaw and decorating his collarbone with purple bruises that Pete desperately wants to last for days.
"I love you," He whispers again and Ice raises his head from Maverick's chest and God, Ice's smile makes Maverick fall in love with him all over again. He grabs Ice's hands, the knuckles still dusted with the rusty color of dried blood, and Maverick knows that they're capable of violence, of beating someone to a pulp without blinking, they can get a target lock on a MiG with practiced ease that almost infuriates Pete sometimes. Those hands can also grant soft touches, give warm hugs to the people he loves and hold them with a protectiveness that usually would scare people away at being loved so fiercely, so wholly and all consuming. Tom Kazansky would do monstrous things to keep his loved ones safe, and the proof is in the fact that he almost killed two men that dared to hurt Pete, that he ended up in jail with absolutely no regrets.
To some, Tom Kazansky is a monster. To Pete, he's his whole universe. Maverick doesn't want to be in a life where he doesn't love the big bad Iceman, and be known as one of the only people who can thaw him out until he's warm and fuzzy and smiling.
He kisses each knuckle softly, slowly, to show gratitude to the hands that have given him so much pleasure already, so much love and tenderness that he hasn't realized until now. He hears Ice shakily release a breath when he grabs his love's face in both hands, pressing one final kiss to the butterfly stitches on Ice's brow and his wingman leans into the soft caress of Maverick's lips on his skin.
"I love you." He whispers against Ice's skin.
"I love you." He mouths against Ice's lips as the taller man finally pushes inside, and any thoughts Maverick did have are now scattered to the wind as his mouth opens in a silent scream at the bliss he's feeling.
It's like being filled by the sun, and Pete will happily be scorched by the flames. He wraps his legs around Ice's back and pulls him in deeper that causes them to both openly moan and Ice grinds just little deeper that makes Maverick flutter around him and the feral smile to grace Ice's lips once more as he slowly pulls out and Pete pitifully whines at the loss of fullness before jerking his pelvis and slamming home once more, affectively taking the wind out of Pete's lungs but fuck is it worth it.
"Come on, sweetheart," Ice groans, sweat beading on his chest as he goes harder, faster in his rhythm and the only sounds that fill the room is the slapping of skin against skin, Ice whispering soft praises and the quiet uh, uh, uh, that leaves Pete's mouth as it matches every thrust.
"You're doing so good, Mav." Tom smiles and Pete digs his nails harder into Ice's back as he pulls the man closer, he gently caresses Mav's weeping cock, flushed red and so hard it's almost painful and Maverick's orgasm takes him by surprise and he sees galaxies behind his eyes and his thighs are shaking with overexertion as Tom moans above him feeling Pete squeeze his cock. It's not long before Ice gives one final push and bites down on the nape of Pete's neck hard enough to draw blood and Maverick feels the warmth fill him and he grins, raking his hand through Ice's bleached tips as the other man rests his head on his wingman's chest and Maverick doesn't think he's felt more complete or content in his entire life.
"I love you." Ice murmurs, muffled by the sound of the now come-stained sweatshirt and Maverick kisses his head in response.
"Jesus, Ice." He wryly huffs, still trying to catch his breath.
"If I'd have known all it took for us to get our heads out of our asses was getting beat up outside the O-Club and wearing your Annapolis sweatshirt, I woulda done this a long fuckin' time ago."
It earns him a loud snort as the taller pilot raises himself up on his elbows and gently pulls out from Maverick. They lay together side by side, exchanging soft kisses with little to no heat behind them. They're both exhausted, Tom even more so than Pete, since a little less than two hours ago Tom had been in jail and waiting for Slider to come bail him out.
"I'm stealing your clothes more often, Kazansky. They're more comfy than my own." Pete whispers to Tom, who looked like he was just about to fall asleep. In retaliation, the taller pilot blindly reaches for his wingman and pulls Maverick closer to him and forces Pete to snuggle into his chest.
"You do that Sweetheart and I'm never letting you leave our bedroom." Tom grumbles in the shorter man's hair and Pete dopily smiles at the word our. It's a sense of another story beginning that Pete feels as he drifts off to sleep, and it's one he wants to hold onto for the rest of his life.