#and mav is like no his literal name is maverick. like his mother looked at her baby and slapped my callsign on his head like he was a jet

[bode-leone]

jake gets bullied in school because his name is maverick and then gets to the navy and is like. boy i sure hope no one hates me for my name! and then gets bowled over by stories of maverick senior and he's like. what a cool dude im gonna be like him. the navy doesnt realise it organically created two mavericks. except one is worse than the other because maverick senior solved his daddy issues but maverick junior is like "fuck my dad! fuck my dad! he's an asshole!!!!!" and then mav senior reads the files on the pilots he has and is just ....oh shit! when he sees jake's file

[shadowsndaisies]

the hard deck: athena settles debts (pt 4)

WC: 898

synopsis: what if Mav's daughter settled his tab that night in the hard deck

main masterlist

athena-verse masterlist

a/n: this was brought on as i rewatched top gun maverick again, because i love it. and even though i should be finishing the last update of season 1 for codename: nightingale (which is only missing the final fight btw its almost done!!!) i took a little brain rot break. also top gun's been officially added to my masterlist!

You'd heard the jukebox get pulled and then the piano, and you couldn't move. Even when Phoenix tried to convince you to join her by the piano. You watched as Hangman and Coyote stayed with a few others by the pool tables at first, but even they started wandering over eventually.

Hangman, however, moved slow. He lingered by you first, saddling up beside the table. And ehen he realized your gaze was going to stay focused on your beer's label, where your fingers were slowly peeling it off the bottle, he knocked on the table. A look far more gentle than you'd anticipate in such a public place crossed his face as your eyes met his.

" 'Thena?" he calls your callsign with a softness that you know is real, and your lips tug down at the thought of having to lie to him when he's being so open with you.

Before you can say anything else before he can ask more, Penny rings the bell again, and chants of "overboard" can be heard. Saved by the bell, literally.

"Go," you nod. "Penny beckons," you tease softly, forcing your lips to turn up.

He nods, and both Payback and Coyote go with him.

When you follow them with your gaze, you meet your dad's eyes, and when the three younger pilots take up positions, boxing him in, a small quirk of a smirk curls at your lips, because it would be him. He seems to catch your eye just in time and offers up a half smile in response. You watch as Penny gives a nod, her head jerking toward the door. Then the three hoist your dad up in their arms and carry him, before throwing him out, a small amused smile now on your lips, as you make a note to stop by the Kazansky house tomorrow, Ice would love to hear about this.

You're so focused that you miss the first few notes. It's not until a familiar voice fills the space with lyrics that you learned as a baby that there's a sickening twist in your stomach and a renewed need to leave as you push out of your seat, leaving the half empty beer behind.

You move to the bar as Bradley begins to sing and have to force yourself not to look at him. You know what you'd see, aviators perched low on his nose, still slightly crooked from when he'd caught a fastball to the face as a teenager. Curls that are almost golden in the light but had to be matted somewhat by the heat and sweat inside the bar. He had that stupid mustache just like his father's, that was just borderline within regs. You know his dog tags were visible on top of his tank top, with some stupid Hawaiian shirt hanging open. You know what you'd see, so you do your beat to avoid looking.

If you had caved, what you would've also seen is how he searched for you while he sang. A slow scan of the bar, for the girl he learned the lyrics beside, propped on an old piano as a toddler as your father's and his mother sang along, holding little you in her arms. In the mass of people surrounding the piano though, he's having a hard time finding you, why did he pick this song?

"Hey, Penny," you call her name, and her head snaps to you, from where she'd been watching your dad get tossed out.

Your lips quirk on end a bit. Years have gone by, and her relationship with your father, volatile as it can be, still has been the most steadfast of your life. She was your mom in all the ways that mattered.

"I didn't realize they called you back too," she says, talking a bit loud over the music.

"Best of the Best, Miss Penny," you muse, though there's a hollowness in your chest as you say it, she seems to catch it.

"What can I get you, sweetheart?" she asks, grabbing a glass and you shake your head.

"No, I, uh… I'll settle for the old man," you tell her, head tilting as you slide your card across the bar.

"No, he'd—"

You cut her off, though, before she can argue. "No, let me. I, uh, I was heading out anyways. You know him, he'd hate to have an open tab," you admit, throwing in a joke to add some levity.

"Sweetheart-" she tries again, and you know she can read you. Despite all the years and gaps in your relationship with her. This was the woman who took you to buy pads for the first time, you knew that she knew you.

"Please, Pen, I… I can't be here, not with this. It's so much worse for him, too. Let me settle it," you admit to her rawly, and her gaze moves to where there's a live performance.

"History's a fickle thing, isn't it?" she offers instead, taking your card. "The ones we truly care about, they always seem to come back in the end, though."

"You'd know better than me, Pen," you shoot back, your tones got a bit defensive but she doesn't even flinch.

She hands you your card with a bittersweet smile, "I guess I would," she nods.

You let out a sigh, and look back at her, "Tell Amelia I'm back?" you ask, and she nods. "At the end of this, whatever it is, tell her I'll take her for ice cream?" you tag on, signing the receipt.

"I will, she'll hold you to it though (Y/n)," Penny confirms.

"I'd expect nothing less as a woman of the Navy," you muse, tucking your card away and turning from the bar.

Rooster's still singing, his voice as pretty as ever. And you can't help your self. You cave.

sue me, you think as you look over at him just once as you pause by the door.

"Well, kiss me baby! Ooh! That feel's good!" he sings, and you smile to yourself despite the ache, shaking your head as you push the doors and walk out. He had a smile on his face, and maybe, maybe you could learn to be okay.

Maybe.

(Probably not.)

You're unlocking your truck when you hear your name. "Athena!" You pause and turn, surprised to see both Phoenix and Hangman; after all, they always seem to be at ends.

"Where are you going?" Phoenix is the one to ask, her cheeks are flushed and her chests heaving a bit from how she'd all but been screaming the lyrics from beside Rooster.

"Home, gotta get some beauty rest before tomorrow," you tell them. "Make sure I'm ready to show you all up," you cover.

"Are you sure?" Phoenix asks, hesitating by the door.

"Yeah, I'll see you bright and early," you reassure her.

She seems to take your word as she nods once at you before heading back into the bar. Hangman, on the other hand, has stayed outside.

"Bravado was never your strong suit, 'Thena, it's mine," he drawls, and though the words are cocky, you understand the question hidden there.

"Go inside, Jake. I'll see you tomorrow," you say softly before getting in your truck. "I gotta keep both my feet on the ground," you add, willing him to understand, before shutting the door.

You notice he stays, watching as you pull out. It's only once you pull out on the road that he turns to go back in.

He be-lines straight to Coyote, missing the look that Rooster sends him as struts back in. The one that lingers on the door, waiting for you to walk back in as well, not that you do.

...

a/n: come talk with me about this athena idea if you want, it's been a while since i've posted anything not DC, so it was kind of fun. I have a longer non-related top gun fic in my drafts too, but that'll come after cnng probably

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

[krmy2386]

I Hate Love Songs

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

PLEASE DON’T STEAL!!!

Be kind🙏🏻

Word count: about 1,400 😅

I did a poll. He won. Here it is❤️! Based on the Kelsea Ballerini song.

I hate Shakespeare and Gosling and cakes with white frosting

Two names in a heart-shaped tattoo

Rooster loved love. He grew up admiring the stories he heard about his father and mother’s love story. He loved romance and grand gestures. Today he stood by his Godfather’s side as he finally married the woman he loved.

As watched Maverick and Penny’s first kiss, his eyes wandered to his own love sitting in the church next to a teary Phoenix. Poor Y/N was almost physically cringing at the large display of affection. Rooster had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

Rooster knew he and Y/N had very different ideas of showing affection. Rooster wanted to serenade her at the Hard Deck and show off that he found the love of his life. Y/N was far more comfortable with little acts of affection. Like cooking dinner together or holding hands in line at the grocery store. She knew that they were in love, and to her that was all that mattered.

Later that night, the entire team looked on from their table as the bride and groom finished up their first dance.

“They look so happy!” Phoenix gushed.

“Yeah. They’re like Romeo and Juliet brought to life, but with a better ending.” Joked Fanboy. The whole table laughed and agreed.

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Romeo and Juliet were idiots.” She said defiantly. Rooster just smirked to himself and thought, ‘Here we go.”

The entire table looked at her in shock.

“What do you mean?” Coyote asked, “They’re the most iconic love story!”

“I mean exactly what I said. They were idiots who put their entire families and friends through unnecessary pain, when literally all they had to do was talk to their families and they would’ve been fine.” Y/N explains.

“Hate to be the one to break this to you Doll, but their families hated each other. It was kind of a major plot point.” Said Hangman cocky as ever.

“Yes it was,” Y/N, full attention now on Hangman. “And if you read Act One when they meet at the Capulet’s party, Tybalt sees that Romeo and his friends are there, rushes off to attack them, and who stops them? Juliet’s dad. He actually mentions that Romeo is the least offensive of the Montagues and tells Tybalt to back off. If they had just talked to the Friar, then their friends, then family in that order, they would’ve been fine. Not dead.”

The entire table was silent. Hangman was speechless.

Rooster, trying not to laugh, interjected, “What she means is, Mav and Penny aren’t exactly like Romeo and Juliet. Now that we settled that, Y/N come dance with me.”

Bradley grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dance floor before she could argue.

Y/N tried to look annoyed, but her facade dropped as soon as she saw Rooster’s adorable smile. He was so happy.

“Sorry if I offended your friends.” Y/N said completely sincere. She knew she could come off a bit much sometimes.

Rooster actually let out a laugh that time.

“Don’t be! Their faces were priceless!” He said almost proud of how confidently she defended her opinion.

Y/N shrugged, “I guess. I just feel like I sucked the happiness from the table. Like they were all on some ‘wedding day high’ and I killed their buzz.”

“You’re over reacting.” Bradley tried to assure her.

“Oh really?” She asked, “ Then why are they all staring and whispering?”

Rooster, tactful as ever, spun around to see that Y/N was right. The entire team was looking at them like they had two heads.

“They just,” he started then sighed, “they just don’t understand us.”

Y/N looked in to Bradley’s eyes and smiled.

“I know they don’t.” She said. “It’s hard for me to comprehend sometimes too.”

“What?” Rooster asked.

“Just how much I love you.” Y/N said smiling.

I hate pink hearts with glitter and Valentine's dinner

And roses just die in a week

We were drunk when we met so we don't know our anniversary, woops

“What are we doing here again?” Hangman asked.

Truthfully he wasn’t really listening earlier when Rooster offered Starbucks to whoever would go with him for an errand. He just heard the promise of decent coffee.

“I need to get a gift for Y/N. It’s important!” Rooster said, regretting ever asking for help.

Hangman snorted a laugh, “What’d you do? For get your anniversary or something?”

“Hard to forget when you don’t have one.” Rooster said bitterly.

“What?” Hangman asked, “Bradshaw I may not be the expert on relationships but I do know that everyone of them has a start date.”

Rooster sighed, he hated that Hangman was technically right. “We have a start date. The problem is we were both very drunk and we don’t technically remember it.”

Hangman couldn’t contain his laughter, “Finally something to prove you two don’t have a perfect relationship!”

His words caught Rooster by surprise. He thought everyone wrote them off. Even Phoenix asked him how serious they really were. She claimed that Y/N ‘didn’t act like she even liked him.’

“You really think that?” Asked Rooster.

“Well, yeah.” Hangman said as if it were obvious. “Look Bradshaw, based on what I’ve heard, you two may not act like your parents but y’all definitely act like mine. My dad wasn’t a real touchy-feely person and my mom most definitely is. They balanced each other. Like you and Y/N do.”

Rooster thought he was hallucinating. How was Hangman the one who understood them the best?

“Thanks Seresin. That means a lot.” Rooster said, genuinely.

“Don’t get used to it, Bradshaw.” Hangman jokingly replied, “Now, let’s find your girl a non-anniversary gift.”

I hate love songs

The old and the new

I hate love songs

But I love you

When Bradley suggested they pick a day and declare it their anniversary, Y/N was apprehensive.

She had no problem with the idea of an anniversary. She just didn’t think it was necessary to pick one at random. She knew that they would have one eventually. They two had spoken at length about getting married and their future together. So why randomly pick one instead of just waiting for the real one.

Once she saw how excited Bradley got at the idea of celebrating, she decided to try to embrace it and make it the best she could.

They stayed home, Y/N’s choice, and then went to bakery to pick out cupcakes before driving down to the beach for a late night picnic, Bradley’s choice.

What she wasn’t expecting was a fully set up cabana tent, candles and fairly lights. She should’ve known he’d do something a little extra.

The two sat together on the beach and ate their desserts.

“This is perfect!” Y/N said leaning on Rooster’s shoulder.

He just smiled. ‘Nailed it!’ He thought to himself.

“But,” Y/N started, causing massive confusion to cross Rooster’s face, “there are still gifts!”

Y/N handed Bradley a small box.

Bradley tore into it like a kid on Christmas.

He was stunned by what he saw.

“I thought I lost these!” He shouted, “You tricked me!”

Y/N busted out laughing.

“I know! I know! I’m sorry!”

They were Rooster’s, well technically Goose’s sunglasses. They were horribly scratched, and broke one day at training. Bradley was distraught. She had them sent off to a special repair shop to restore them.

“They should be back in all of their 1980s glory.” Y/N stated proudly.

Bradley slipped them on and grinned, “They’re perfect! Thank you!”

He leaned in and gave her a quick peck.

“Now your turn!” Bradley was so excited he almost threw Y/N her present.

Y/N carefully opened the box to reveal a locket that had the outline of a rose etched into it.

“You say not to get you flowers since they just die so I found a way to get you one that won’t.” Rooster explained.

“And if you open it,” Bradley reacher for the necklace, “There’s my favorite picture of us.”

It was from Maverick and Penny’s wedding. Fanboy and Payback were incredibly drunk and dared Rooster to kiss his own girlfriend. Ameilia happened to get a picture of it.

“I love it,” Y/N could feel the tears coming, “Put it on me?” She asked.

Rooster helped fasten the delegate necklace and place a kiss to her neck.

Y/N turned around and gently grabbed Rooster’s face. “I love you Bradley Bradshaw. More than anything.”

It was Bradley’s turn to get teary-eyed, “I love you to Y/N! More than you could ever imagine.”

TAG LIST- Thank you for the encouragement❤️

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@a-reader-and-a-writer

[callsigndragon]

Tasting the Ashes | Ch. 12: Not a hero ✍️📲

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Roos and Ash being cuties, mentions of Ash's accident, mentions of death, allusions of not wanting to be alive (just 1), Gina is now a warning of her own...

Important: This story is a sequel of Seeing Red, and there’s a lot of things you’ll miss if you don’t read that series first. Check Seeing Red! Masterlist on pinned.

I don’t tag people, follow @meigalibrary  for notifications!

First, let me apologize for not being there for you for thirty years.

That was the first sentence Maverick said to you when you went to his house. Bradley went with you, because Jake had to go to work and Red was taking care of Liam, he offered to drive you to Mav’s. 

He also needed to talk to him, either way. He’s the father. 

It was a bit awkward at first, sitting in front of a guy who used to hook up with your mother. But he wasn’t a bad guy like you imagined. He is a very good man who continually apologized for not being part of your life. You know that if he had known about your existence, he would have been there. 

And you think that maybe, with his help, you wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe you wouldn’t even be pregnant. Or maybe you’d have met Rooster before, fallen in love, and been married already. He’s a nice guy, and he’s hot, that can’t be denied. 

Bradley Bradshaw is a lot different than Steve.  

And you wish you'd met him sooner. Because as much as you liked him enough to have a one-night stand with Bradley, Steve was still in your mind, haunting you in every dream—or should you say nightmare? Things are still fresh in your memory, even if it’s been a year. Seems like no matter how far you run from the problem, it still haunts you. It will always haunt you. 

“Ash?” 

“Oh, sorry, were you saying something?” You look at him from the sofa you’ve been sitting on all morning. It’s been a few days since you moved with Bradley, and he’s been an absolute sweetheart. Cooked for you, helped you whenever you needed it, and he had been kind enough to lend you some of his clothes because you were definitely too big to keep using your own. Literally, the perfect guy. 

And he looks at you with this hope in his eyes, like you being pregnant will somehow make you fall in love with him. But you can fall in love with someone when the memory of the last man you loved is still in your mind… and his sister hates your existence. 

“I was saying that Jake has invited all of us to his house. You feel like going?” He says while handing you a glass of water. 

“I mean, it’s my brother now. I have to.” You watch him as he sits down, moving your legs so they’re resting on his lap. “Do you want to go?” 

“I’m always ready to hang out with my friends.” He caresses your leg, looking at your belly. “How are you feeling about being the new member of a big family?” 

You chuckle, leaving the glass on the table. “It’s a bit overwhelming, you know? It’s always been me and my mom, but now I have a father, step-siblings, a step-mom, a sister-in-law that used to be my front seater and whose son is now my nephew, and she has another baby on the way!” 

Bradley nods, tilting his head so that it’s resting on the back of the sofa. “Yeah, and a lot of crazy uncles and aunts for your babies.” 

You kick his arm with your leg. “Our babies.” 

He looks at you with the softest smile in the world, and something inside you feels warm. “Our babies. So… I wanted to talk about us.” 

And here it is. “Okay, tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“I know you know I am interested in you. I like you, a whole lot.” He claims and there is no doubt in his mind. “But I know you don’t feel the same.” 

“Bradley… How many times have we seen each other before I crashed Liam’s birthday party?" 

“Four, I think.” 

“We barely know each other. You don’t even know my last name.”

“It’s Simmons.” 

“No, it’s- Wait, how do you know?” You frown. 

“Saw your dog tags yesterday.” He waves it off, bringing you closer and almost sitting you on his lap. His hand moves to hold yours, the other one rests on your belly. “What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to worry about my feelings. You and the babies are the most important thing for me right now.”

“Thank you, Bradley. I know I could fall for you, you know. But things are already too complicated to try and see if we can work this out.” You explain feeling so absolutely horrible about this. “Just imagine that we try to be together, and we end up fighting or something, the only ones that will end up suffering here are the babies.” 

He sighs, pushing your hair behind your ear. “I know. That’s why I said I don’t care about my feelings. It’s not about us anymore.” 

“You’re really different than I thought you would be.” You giggle, watching his face morph into a shocked expression. He lets out an airy laugh, rolling his eyes. “Hey! Everyone thinks you’re an idiot, and I’m here praising you. You should be thanking me.” 

“Oh, yeah, I need to thank you because you’re realizing how awesome I am?” He grins, raising an eyebrow. 

You hit his shoulder before your phone lights up, a new message waiting for you to read it. 

And this is why you really don’t want to have a relationship with Rooster. Because maybe, one day you’ll have to run away and leave him behind with the twins. 

Gina won’t stop until you’ve paid for her brother’s death. Even if it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t do anything about it. 

You never wanted the accident to happen. You never wanted everyone to change your call sign, to be reminded of that atrocious incident every time someone called you. 

It got to the point where you wished you hadn't walked out of that plane without a scratch. Maybe if something had happened to you—maybe if you couldn’t walk anymore—everyone would have left you alone. You’re not a hero, you never wanted to be one. You’re just a survivor. And you have enough trauma as it is; you don’t need new call signs, pats on the back whenever you walk into a room, or curious eyes following you around trying to understand how a small, insignificant thing like you got out of such a horrible crash. Yeah, Gina said that.  

Because Gina would never forget how you, her brother’s girlfriend, managed to survive when he couldn’t. 

And she’s been sending these messages for almost a year now. You left the base soon after Red was offered a new position. You couldn’t bear the thought of Gina being your boss. Life was already insufferable enough as it was. You didn’t need her to make it worse. 

But she, living up to her call sign, is determined to Nuke your life. 

One way or another. 

[derpinathebrave]

ICE -In Case of Emergency ~ IceMav

READ ON AO3

So I got the brainworms again. This time from @pilotsandgays and now I've started a chaptered fic of Ice and Mav being exes (slightly nasty exes) but Ice is still listed as Mav's emergency contact.

I'm posting the first chapter here but the rest will be only on AO3 unless ya'll really want it on both

SUMMARY: "I'm your emergency contact. You know, you're supposed to take that out when you leave someone." Commander Tom "Iceman" Kazansky has spent five years trying to forget Pete Mitchell ever existed let alone walked out on him. Everything is brought to a boil when he is called after Pete is in a serious accident and Tom is the emergency contact. Now Ice has to face up to some tough questions; why did Maverick walk out on him without a goodbye? And why is he helping the man that destroyed his heart?

TAGS: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Sarah Kazansky, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Exes to Lovers, Hospitals and Medical, Whump, not much beta we die like goose, Canon Compliant, mostly canon compliant anyway, Period-Typical Homophobia, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Mention of Aids crisis, characters being added later

WORDS: 3059

Chapter 1: A Ringing Phone

The phone was ringing. Commander Tom “Iceman” Kazansky could hear it through the front door as he struggled to juggle his paperwork and get the key working in the lock. 

It was still a little strange to have his own phoneline after living so many years from carrier to carrier and sharing with literally everyone else. Every time it rang he jumped at the noise and then rushed to pick it up. Usually it was Slider, his mum or Sarah. They were the only people that really knew he was in a permanent residence again, and the only people he really cared enough to give his number to. 

The sticky lock finally gave and Iceman shouldered his way through the door. He would need to fix that soon, the way the door jammed in its frame and the lock took a specific wiggle to get the key to turn. 

He tossed the paperwork down onto his coffee table as he strode to the kitchen. The phone fell silent as he reached out to grab it from the wall. He pulled it to his ear anyway, haring the dial-tone. Rolling his eyes, Tom set the phone back in the cradle. 

The house was small, single story and sparsely furnished. He walked back to the front door and pulled his boots off, setting them in place on the shoe rack. The door opened into the living room, a couch long enough to fit him on it lying down, a coffee table and a TV on a chest of drawers. He had bought two low bookshelves to line the wall beneath the window that looked out to his neighbours fence, but they were currently rather empty. His Top Gun trophy was propped up on top of the one to the right. Sarah kept threatening to come and decorate for him, but her work hadn’t allowed for that yet. 

Ice moved through the living room and down the short hall to his bedroom. This was marginally more comfortable. He had a queen bed with a crocheted blanket his mother had pressed upon him when he had let her come and see his new place. It was a mixture of blues and greys and made him think of the ocean. Beyond the bed, he had matching nightstands with lamps, a laundry hamper and a winged arm-chair (another addition from his mother). He mostly just tossed clothes onto the armchair until it annoyed him enough to put them away in the cupboard.

As he was unbuttoning his shirt, the phone began to ring once more. He went to answer it.

“Hello?” He said, resisting the automatic urge to add “Commander Kazansky” as he had to at the office. 

“Hello, is that Tomas Kazansky?” A feminine voice said. 

“Speaking.” Ice frowned. He didn’t know this voice. A simmer of anxiety settled in his chest. 

“Mr Kazansky, my name is Maria, I’m a nurse at Holy Spirit Hospital. You were listed as the emergency contact for Peter Mitchell?” Maria said. 

Tom’s anxiety shot straight to a boil. His hand gripped the phone tight, his heart pounding loud enough to drown out the crackle on the phoneline. He realised she was waiting for an answer.

“Yes. Uh,” he blinked and shook his head a little. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Kazansky, he’s been in a serious accident and is currently in emergency,” Maria carried on in a solemn voice.

“What type of accident?” Ice forced out. 

“He had a pretty serious collision on a motorcycle.” Maria said. “He’s stable for now, conscious but in pain, and he’ll be going in for surgery this evening. If you wanted to come down and see him, you’re welcome to. He’ll need a change of clothes and some toiletries.”

Ice turned and pressed his forehead against the kitchen wall beside the phone. He took a long, slow breath in, held it a moment and then let it slide back out just as slowly. 

“Thank you,” he said, hating himself, “I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“OK. Just let our Emergency receptionist know you’re here to see Peter and they’ll let you through. I will let you know he can only have one visitor at a time, so if you plan to bring other people, they won’t be able to come in with you,” Maria said.

“Thank you,” he said again. 

“No problem. Thank you.” The phone disconnected. 

Iceman placed the phone back with extra care. As much as he wanted to smash it to pieces, that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He did allow himself thirty more seconds of pressing his face against the wall in despair.

Heaving a sigh, Ice straightened once more and headed back to his bedroom. He filled a backpack with sweatpants, a soft t-shirt, boxers and socks. He moved to the bathroom, taking a disposable razor and spare toothbrush from beneath the sink. 

As he straightened, Ice caught his own face in the mirror. His blue eyes were slightly wild.  He could not go into that hospital room and let Maverick see him like that. He paused, staring himself down until the startled expression had settled back into his trademark detachment. He toyed with the idea of a shower but decided it would only amp him up more if he had to wait longer. May as well just get this whole thing over with. He buttoned his uniform back up, tucking it in once more. 

Ice let himself have one more second of hesitation before he grabbed the backpack, pulled his boots on and relocked his janky front door. 

 ===

His jaw ached, knuckles white on the steering wheel and shoulders tense. Ice negotiated traffic with extra care. He was desperately trying to stay calm. His ice-cold facade was slipping and melting every time he remembered where he was going and why. 

The sun was closing in on the horizon by the time he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Tom followed the signs for Emergency, completely unable to calm the thundering of his heart or the urge to bite at the inside of his cheek. He took up a soft mantra that everything would be fine, he would be A-OK and this would be fine. 

The lady at reception gave him directions down to the bay that Maverick was in. Hefting the backpack, and giving one last attempt at masking his anxiety, Ice headed for the bed. 

When he peeked through the curtain the bay was empty. No bed at all. After a moment he noticed the motorcycle helmet and boots thrust out of the way under a bench and he knew he was where Maverick had been at the very least. He slipped into the bay, leaving the curtain open. 

Ice took a deep breath. He gripped both fists together and then shook them out. It made him feel a little better. He did it again. 

With his body slightly calmed, he bent to look at the helmet. It was a mess. Deep gouges ran across the left side, the visor had been torn away completely. Ice swallowed. 

“Excuse me, sir?” a man said from behind him. 

Ice straightened quickly and spun. A tall, orderly in orange scrubs stood at the gap in the curtain. 

“Can I help you?” The orderly said. His eyes scanned Ice, taking in the shiny wings on his uniform. 

“Uh, yeah, the man that was in this bay, Pete Mitchell, where is he?” Ice said

“Are you the next of kin?” The orderly said, eyes narrowing a little. 

Ice hesitated for a split second. “Yes,” he said. 

“He’s been taken up to surgery. They’re prepping him now,” the orderly gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’re in the wrong place. If you want to grab those things I’ll give you directions to surgery.”

Ice nodded in reply, pulling the corners of his lips up but not really smiling. 

He grabbed the helmet and boots, following the orderly back to the crossroads of the hallways. After extensive and confusing instructions, Ice ventured back to the elevators and headed up to the surgery wards. 

Stuffed into the back corner of the elevator, a small kid with a very broken arm in a bed taking up the majority of the room, Iceman chewed on his cheek once more. Of course it hadn’t been as easy as bringing Maverick clothes and organising him a ride home. Of course the idiot needed surgery.

He squeezed out of the elevator on the floor he needed and followed the signs through the labyrinthine corridors. Finally he came upon another nurse’s station. 

“I’m here to see Peter Mitchell,” Iceman said, resettling the boots in his grip. 

“Let me see,” the nurse focused on her computer for a moment, tapping keys slowly. “Sure, he’s just gone in with Doctor Yanch. The surgery is set to be a minimum of two hours. You’re welcome to wait in our relations room, or head down to the cafeteria and come back closer to his end time.”

“Thank you,” Ice said, despite wanting to slam his head into her counter. “I’ll head to the cafeteria.”

The nurse gave him a nod and turned back to her work. Ice made his way back to the elevators slowly.

As he was sitting in the cafeteria, ignoring the stares of civilians because he was still in his khakis, Ice questioned his sanity. Only Pete Mitchell brought this side of him out. The side that questioned what the hell he was doing. 

He ate a truly awful sandwich and drank worse coffee. The helmet was set on the table in front of him and Tom found his eyes straying to it every few seconds. The paint had once resembled Maverick’s flight helmet, the white and red lines leading over the back and “Maverick” stamped across there rather than the front. The eagle on the side was almost completely destroyed, gouged and scratched into an amorphous red and white blob. 

If he had not seen the state of the helmet, he probably would have already gone. It was only the deeply unsettling scars on the helmet that kept him in the cafeteria, drinking awful coffee and waiting two hours. 

When the time was up, he stood, stretched and headed back to surgery. His heart took up a new tattoo of anxiety in his chest as he drew closer to the ward. The nurse directed him down to recovery and warned him that Pete was recovering and the anaesthetic was going to linger for a while. 

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell was pale, lips a little purple on the edges. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep. He was shirtless but mostly covered with a paper gown. His left arm was in a sling, securing his wrist up by his right collarbone. As Ice followed the arm to the shoulder there was large bandages covering from his bicep to the rise of his neck. Mav’s lower body was covered with a hospital blanket. He was still hooked into a drip of fluids and a second of blood. 

Tom’s chest squeezed, all air escaping at the sigh of Maverick. It was much worse than he had expected. A weird mixture of relief and irritation washed through him. He set the backpack down in the corner, out of the way, and turned back to find a doctor pushing into the room. 

“Hello, I’m Doctor Yanch, you are?” The doctor said, eyes flickering over Ice’s uniform. 

“I’m Tom Kazansky, his—“ Ice almost said wingman, aborting at the last second and amending it to “— next-of-kin.” 

“Ah,” Doctor Yanch nodded. “I was just coming to do my post-surgery assessment. I was Peter’s surgeon.”

A nurse in teal scrubs bustled in, ignoring them both and heading straight for Pete.

Ice glanced at Pete but he hadn’t moved and his eyes were still closed. “OK.” He said to the doctor, “can you explain his injuries to me? I haven’t had a chance to hear the damage.”

“Oh,” surprise flickered across the surgeons face before he spoke once more. “Pete sustained a proximal humeral fracture dislocation. Meaning that his upper arm fractured and dislocated at the same time. I’ve set the bone with screws and relocated the joint through surgery. He was also brought in with rib fractures and a haemothorax, blood in his chest cavity that had collapsed his left lung.”

Tom realised he wasn’t breathing and inhaled through his nose, waiting for the doctor to continue. 

“His lung has reinflated and we’re confident the internal bleed has stopped. He will be receiving blood for another few hours and fluids.” The Doctor gave a tight smile to show he was finished. 

“Thank you,” Ice said, voice a little hoarse. 

“Not a problem.” The doctor turned away and began scribbling in Pete’s chart, mumbling to the nurse. When he was done, he hung the chart back at the end of the bed and walked out. 

Ice watched as the nurse leaned over and took Maverick’s right hand from under the blanket. She began squeezing it and calling his name. His heart began a horrid tap dance on his nerves once more.

“Peter?” The nurse called again, a little louder. 

“Try Mav,” Ice said, stepping a little closer and immediately regretting it. 

The nurse looked at him in surprise. 

“His nickname, its Mav or Maverick, try that,” Ice explained at her expression. “He hates Peter.”

“Mav?” She called, “it’s time to wake up now.”

Slowly, Mav’s eyes flickered and opened. He frowned at the nurse and began to move. She pinned him down with a firm hand, clearly practised at this. 

“No, no, no moving, Mav,” she said to him. “You’ve been in surgery. We fixed that shoulder up for you. Are you in pain?”

“No,” Mav mumbled. “Yes.” 

The sound of his voice sent fresh spikes through Ice but he remained still and silent in the background. 

“My chest hurts,” Mav said, his voice slurred. 

“Yes, you’ve got some fractured ribs. Can you squeeze my hand?” She placed her fingers in his left hand and nodded when Mav obeyed. “Good. Alright, I’m going to let you wake up a little more and then I’ll be back to run some more tests. You can chat to your friend but don’t move too much, OK?” She said.

“Mm-hmm.” Mav gave a tight nod already closing his eyes again. 

The nurse shot Ice a tight smile and bustled back out into the hall. He merely watched her go before turning back to where Maverick was laying. The other man had his eyes closed again but there was tension through his forehead, showing Ice that he was still awake. 

Ice gripped his fists, ignored the nausea that was rising and falling in his abdomen, and sat on the uncomfortable armchair by the window. When he glanced at Maverick his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. They shifted, catching Ice’s and holding for a protracted moment. Pete blinked, shook his head a little and closed his eyes once more. 

He didn’t open his eyes again for another fifteen minutes. Ice was watching, cataloguing the way Maverick’s tension would sink out of his body as he slipped into sleep and then rise again as he woke once more. 

The second time Maverick opened his eyes, he whipped his head over to stare at Tom with wide eyes. He blinked. 

Tom gave him the most mild expression he could muster.

“Fuck, you’re actually here,” Maverick said, voice less slurred now. 

“I’m your emergency contact,” Ice said blandly, determined to not let Maverick see the agitation going on in his body. “You know, you take that out of your wallet when you leave someone.”

There was a beat of tension and Maverick turned away to stare at the ceiling. 

“Flattered you came,” Maverick said, wincing a little. 

“Mm-hmm,” Ice drawled at him. 

Internally Tom was beginning to suspect he needed to visit the cardio ward and have his heart checked. It had been hammering a harsh rhythm in his chest for the last twenty minutes and showed no signs of stopping now. 

“Why did you come?” Mav asked, voice strained. 

“I knew no one else would,” Iceman shrugged. He almost regretted the words as pain flared and died on Maverick’s face. “Should I call the nurse? You look rough.”

“I was hit by a car, Kazansky, of course I look rough.” Pete was clearly trying to sound snappish but there was too much pain in his voice for it to carry. 

Ice sighed and stood. He moved to the side of Mav’s bed and found the call button. 

“Don’t you touch—“ Maverick didn’t make it to the end of the sentence before Ice pushed the button for him. “Go away, why are you here?” Maverick groaned, face growing steadily paler. 

Ice didn’t bother to reply but simply returned to the uncomfortable armchair. He willed his heart back to a regular pace and when it refused to comply, he settled for fishing his gum out of his pocket and beginning to chew on a fresh piece. 

The same nurse returned, took one look at Maverick’s face and launched into action. She set up his pain medication, teaching him about the button to let it release. She then began conducting the promised tests from earlier. Ice sat in the chair and watched, eyes roaming Maverick as he did. When the nurse pulled the gown down to attach patches to Mav’s chest, Ice couldn’t drag his eyes away. He knew he should, but the horrific red and maroon patches that spread from beneath Mav’s arm to the middle of his chest held him transfixed. 

The doctor had said words like “collapsed lung”, “fractured ribs” and “bleeding into the chest cavity” but hearing about it and seeing it were vastly different things. Ice found his breath was caught in his chest once more. He tried to breathe, working hard to stay perfectly still. 

As much as he wanted to deny it, Ice made a snap decision in that moment. He knew he would regret it later. He knew that it would cause him such intense pain that it would rival Maverick’s. But Tom also knew he couldn’t leave Maverick alone to deal with this. 

He was still his wingman. Whether Maverick wanted him to be or not.

[mavmax]

Grateful, I guess?

When: Thanksgiving 2020

Where: The Maxwell Cottage 

Warnings: Racism / Racist Remarks

Featuring: Lexa Maxwell & Isabelle Maxwell ( @isabellemaxwellxx ) 

Maverick purposely dragged on to get ready. Purposely. Every chain reaction that happened was intentional on his end and it was getting to the point where by the time Lexa had arrived to help, she could feel Maverick’s purposely sluggish intentions coming to light and frankly, it tested her patience--and Izzy’s, so he decided instead of having two sisters wanting to end him on the spot, he’d clean up his act. Just a few hours and Izzy would help him sneak out of the event and he’d be free for the rest of the evening to do whatever the fuck he wants. 

The carpool to the cottage almost seemed normal with him and his family...minus Lexa who opted to drive on her own since she had to grab a few things from her place. Maverick knew it was bullshit, she was definitely plotting her escape and since she was the oldest, it wasn’t exactly questioned. Since it was his parents’ turn to host, rather than turning their home upside down--and risk the family finding out about Victoria’s battle, they opted for the cottage in South Redondo. A 40 minute drive, but a 40 minute drive of just casual chit-chat, some laughter, and catching up. 

After helping some of the landscapers with decorating the cottage and his dad with the turkey, it was time to put on that Maxwell smile and greet his extended family. He stood tall in his clean cut cable-knit sweater, greeting his rowdy younger cousins, his boisterous uncles, his judgy, snobbish aunts, his sweet grandmother, his Navy grandfather, and of course...Benji--and some statuesque, but clearly ditzy blonde girlfriend. Which would make the night even more interesting when she introduced herself as Tiffany. How...predictable. 

Everyone was scattered throughout the cottage. The older women sat in the living room, snacking on hors d'oeuvres, the older men sat on the patio with their cigars and whiskey, the teen cousins played volleyball in the backyard, the younger cousins sat on their iPads, and the young adult cousins, where Mav and his sisters sat, sat on the second floor. There was casual chit chat behind their triumphs. Maverick had a few things to brag about, from how he was in the running to being scouted for the NBA, to his stellar grades and graduating magna cum laude...and that was when Benji chimed in with a, 

“I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got the best grades out of all of us.” Already, that prickled Maverick’s skin. Once again, Benji was cruisin’ for a bruisin’. 

“Lexa’s grades still remain the highest out of all us here. She literally graduated as valedictorian from Stanford. I don’t even go to an Ivy League,” Maverick sighed. 

“You could’ve though. Let’s be real, Uncle Nate and Aunt Tori definitely adopted a solid genius. Kinda wish my parents had done that...maybe could’ve suckered my sibling into getting my homework done,” His cousin crudely remarked. This was followed by a bunch of “Benji, chill” or “Benji, what the fuck bro?” and clearly, Benji didn’t care about the fact that he was 

“Do you have something against me or are you just blatantly racist?” Maverick finally shot out, the warning glances exchanged between him and his sisters before his glare went back to a taken aback Benji. 

“Bro, it’s chill. I’m not--” Benji began to say when Maverick interrupted with,

“Wait guys, you smell that in the kitchen?” 

There were a few confused murmurs within the cousin group and a few shrugs but finally Benji chimes in with, “What did Aunt Tori cook?” He asked with confusion. 

“Beef,” Maverick simply said before simply tilting the cranberry ginger ale over his cousin’s head with. a shit eating grin. Benji who immediately fell over into his girlfriend, spilling wine on what definitely looked like an expensive dress. He stood there, sitting in his humilation for a few moments. There were a few loud oohs that alerted the women in front. While Lexa let out a rather loud cackle....Izzy definitely looked a bit distressed from the situation but he still smiled proudly. Benji was asking for it. 

“Bro, you’re just gonna do me like that?” Benji shouted over to Maverick and before Maverick could even get in a punch, Lexa stepped in and smiled her condescending smile, her head cocked to the side. 

“Benjamin,” She added as she shoved Tiffany to the side, grabbing Benji by his collar. “I’ve made this clear every year now since Maverick first came home, if you mess with my little brother, you won’t have to worry about just him. Let this be a warning, I have a lot of dirt on your side of the family. Mav will kick your ass, I will kick down your reputation. So, I suggest you clean up your act. When you come to California, remind yourself that your family is Liberal and not red like your daddy’s neck. Understood?” She added with the most intimidating smile. While she threatened this...there was one little detail that Benji didn’t know: the threat was already happening on Lexa’s end and Mav had seen it all. 

“Yeah, understood, redneck boyyyy!” Maverick chimed in the background with a shit eating grin. Benji could only look at the two in fear before Maverick made himself go downstairs to “grab himself another drink”, when in reality, this is where Izzy would come in to cover for him and Maverick would disappear for a little bit, at least until dinnertime. On his way down, he had to turn the corner near the study and that was when he had noticed his father on the phone. He was pacing back and forth, looking mildly distressed. He could feel his heart drop to his stomach, hoping it wasn’t news about his mother until he heard. 

“Yeah, Ha-Jun...Mav...he grew up to be a fine young man. He’s...a little rowdy, opinionated, but, he’s got a heart of gold,” Mr. Maxwell spoke. 

Ha-Jun...his Korean name, his birth name.. It had been so long since he had heard that name that it almost sounded foreign to him. Maverick tried to hide around the corner to where he could hear the conversation but not be caught by his father. 

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that you survived...I’m sorry things had to turn out this way for you and Eun-Joo,” Mav heard his father say with a sigh. It didn’t take long for him to realize who his father was talking to and that, was a slap to the face. His father--his birth father, survived. But what did he survive, was the question. 

“Sang-hoon, we have to tell Maverick. I understand this comes with risk, but our family is untouchable and you know this. No harm will come to him or my family and I’ll make sure of it, but he needs to know. This is his past, he deserves that chance,” He heard his father bargain on the phone with his birth father. The one thing he could say, was that this is why Nathaniel Maxwell was his father. While his birth father wanted to cower in fear, Nate Maxwell was fearless...much like his sisters, and his mother. 

He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he wiped them away with the back of his sweater. He wasn’t sure how to handle that information yet. Knowing that his birth father was alive but hesitated to even meet him. He didn’t understand what dangers were in or why there was a risk in the first place. All he knew, was that he’d have to face the past head on. 

And maybe then...he’d have a better understanding of where he comes from.