#Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itosevenito · 10 months ago

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I Loved You Like The Sun

For @mapled-penitentiary

Summary:

Rooster always knew his dads had a love for planes, he just didn’t expect Maverick to own a goddamned warplane or a hangar for that matter

Rooster

Bradley had had his suspicious when Maverick gave him and the rest of the Dagger’s his house location– which turned out to be in the middle of a goddamn desert. He double checked google maps as he pulled up. He looked around at the almost completely baren landscape and the seemingly worn and unused hangar before feeling a rush of relief in his chest as he spotted Hangman’s ute and Phoenix’s jeep off to the side of the tarmac. He quickly exited his bronco, slung his trusty duffle over his shoulder before he made his way over to the crowd of confused aviators.

“Bradshaw!” Phoenix called, a touch of relief to her tone, “Do you know where the hell we’re meant to go?” Bradley strolled up to them, finding that more than half of them had their phones in their palms and were gawking intensely at google maps. “Why would I?” He questioned, his brows furrowed.

“Trusty Bradshaw, as usual.” Hangman snarked, leaning over Javy’s shoulder as the pilot scrolled. Bradley’s eyelid twitched. “God damn it, I think he gave us the wrong address.” Fanboy moped, slumping as Payback nodded solemnly. “That would explain how we’re all here,” Bob muttered, taking a look at their surroundings just as Rooster had.

Bradley narrowed his eyes, he knew Maverick had some brain damage problems– but to muck up his own address? That was a new skill. But they were all definitely in the right state– Maverick had been there with them as they purchased the tickets after all. He let his duffle slip off his shoulder slightly as he reached into his jeans to fish out his phone. Without a shred of hesitation, he clicked on the old man’s icon.

“Everyone shut up!” Phoenix shouted as the dial tone rung out. Everyone immediately shut up as Maverick answered.

/Hey kid, you get into the state alright?/ Maverick’s bubbly voice asked from the other side. Bradley didn’t miss the awwing noises the other aviators made.

“Yeah Mav, we all made it alright.”

/Oh that’s good! When will you be arriving?/

“Uh… Mav about that.”

/… are you alright now? No accidents?/

“No, no!” Bradley was quick to reassure, “No, no not at all, we’re all in perfect health. It’s just, we think you may have given us the wrong address.”

/Odd. You wanna run the address through me now?/ Maverick offered. Fanboy took that as a cue to rat out the address they all had present in their phones. An amused chuckle filtered through from the other side.

“Something amusing, Pops?” Hangman asked, looking sour.

/Kind of you to ask, Lieutenant. Yes, there is something I am finding incredibly amusing/

“I knew it,” Bob whined, throwing his head back, “We got the wrong address.” Bradley resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, already feeling the dread of another long, tiresome car drive coming up.

/Gimme a sec, aviators/ Maverick said, a huff accompanying his words. Bradley stared at the phone as did his fellow pilots. What on Earth was the Captain doing? Had he forgotten his address and had it written down somewhere else? What startled the living shit out of him was that the doors to the rusty, old hangar creaked open. Fanboy startled and the rest of them stared in blatant horror.

What was in there?

“Morning aviators!” A familiar voice chortled from inside the hangar. Bradley’s phone nearly clattered to the ground along with his jaw. Leaning on the now open door was Maverick, in a white tee and a pair of blue denim jeans, and he was slathered in grease. None of the Daggers standing abreast with him moved nor twitched– they were almost like statues, which Bradley imagined was extremely fitting.

Maverick’s beaming smile never faltered. “What, you not comin’ in? Well, I guess it’s hot today, young people still like to tan right?” He asked, mirth dripping from his tone. Phoenix – to no one surprise – was the first to recover. “If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, what uh, what exactly is this?” Maverick’s smile dipped a little as he leaned out and looked up at the hangar, “It’s an old United States Navy hangar. Can’t you read?”

Bradley didn’t know what to say (he was not gifted in having a speedy reaction time like Natasha), he didn’t even know what to do. How long exactly had Maverick had this place? And how long had he been alone for? In the middle of fucking nowhere, in an old decommissioned hangar? At least… he hoped it was decommissioned.

“With all due respect, Sir, this– wasn’t exactly what we had in mind.” Payback spoke up unsurely. “Oi, don’t judge just yet, aviators, you haven’t even seen inside.” Bradley stifled a groan at that– did he even want to see inside? The first to move was Bob and Fanboy, with the latter of the two looking far more intrigued than five minutes ago (had he even been here for five minutes…??)

Bradley met Phoenix’s exasperated look before following after the WSOs.

As the group of pilots moved out of the warm golden rays of the sun, they were blasted with a fresh, cold stream of air in an almost pitch black hangar. Bradley squinted his eyes, thinking he could make out a large black… shape looming over them. Or that was his eyes making up shit, they’d been doing that ever since the uranium mission, damned concussions.

“Sorry ‘bout this, didn’t realise you’d be two hours early.” Maverick’s voice was saying from… somewhere. Bradley clicked his phone on and realised they were in fact exactly two hours early. Huh. “Pops, does this place have lights, or do you just have night vision?” Jake asked from his place in the middle of the two rusted steel doors. “Oh, it’s easier to work in the dark,” the older pilot made a hissing sound and a clatter of objects followed in its wake.

Bradley edged forward slightly, careful to wave himself around the attached forms of Mickey and Reuben, and approached the large silhouette that looked over him ominously. He squinted further, attempting to outline the edge of the figure. As he moved ever closer, something caught on his boot. Looking down, he found an empty tin strewn between the dust particles illuminated by the sun.

“Aha!” Maverick’s triumphant voice called before there was a flicker of meek light and then the whole hangar was showered in a cold green light from the ceilings. Bradley went to look up at the lights, but his head stopped midway in the action, favouring to take in the sudden appearance of an enormous P-51. Bradley staggered back a step. His duffle slipped off his shoulder and stationed itself in his cubital fossa. He sucked in a breath; what– what was he looking at?

The P-51 was parked harmlessly in the centre of the hangar, its massive wing span taking up most of the room. Bradley gawked at it, not even processing that there was a steel ladder propped up on the other side of the plane. Maverick strode gleefully back over, beaming ear to ear, “You like ‘er?” He asked.

“Yo– tha– wh–” Coyote fumbled over his words, presumably staring at the same thing Rooster presently was. “That’s a fucking P-51.” Hangman’s voice said. “Yep,” Maverick grinned, popping the p. “In the hangar you apparently live in.” Phoenix added. “Yep.” Maverick answered again. “Is anyone else finding this day just a little difficult?” Fanboy whispered and Rooster could practically hear Payback nod. “Respectfully Sir, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Maverick said something else about refurbishing, but it was drowned out my the sound of Bradley’s heartbeat in his ears, beating shamelessly quickly. Maverick. His dad. Owned a war plane? A plane used for bombing in the second World War and the Cold War? A plane that was sitting in the hangar Maverick apparently owned as well? Bradley ran a hand over his left cheek, dragging some of the skin down with it. This– what was this?

Was this– some kind of joke? He knew Maverick. He knew he loved to fly and he loved planes – hell the guy had snuck him into the cock pit of an F-14 back in the day when Nick and his mum were on a date night – but… but this was different. Maverick, Pete, owned a P-51? When had this happened? When–

Bradley sucked down another breath, distrantly aware of Maverick moving over to the other side of the plane, gesturing to something to those that had trailed after him.

Had he really missed that much? Bradley never thought– he furrowed his brow, not once taking his eyes off the plane. Just because he’d stopped his life with Maverick and gone his own way, didn’t mean that Maverick had put his life on hold. This wasn’t the same Maverick he’d stormed out on. This wasn’t the same Maverick that he’d screamed at mercilessly. This wasn’t the Maverick had lived in the Bradshaw house with Ice. This… he didn’t know this man.

He didn’t know Maverick anymore.

He tore his gaze away, looking down at the concert floor. He swallowed down his heartbeat, narrowing his eyes to stave off the salty liquid. Had he taken it too far? Had he missed out on a whole life… because of a miscommunication? Had he wasted sixteen years without his dad? Over what?

His lips trembled. A drop of sweat dripped down his cheek. His heart fluttered. The ground before him hazed over. He staggered backwards. He–

“Bradshaw!”

He snapped his head up, finding Phoenix directly in front of him. “Whoa–” she jerked backwards as to avoid colliding with him. Bradley’s brow deepened and he peered around his best friend’s shoulder, finding the group of aviators had vanished. He looked back at Natasha, realising by the confusion and concern in her features that she’d been calling his name for some time. ‘Shit,’ he cursed mentally, squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter. “Yeah?” He croaked, and mentally cringed. Phoenix sucked at the corner of her lips, eyeing him with suspicion. “Mav said we better go get setup for the sleep over, since we’re early he’s making us help with the refurbishing.” She explained, nodding over her shoulder dismissively to where the gang were setting up a series of colourful sleeping bags while Maverick pushed a couch out of the way.

“Right.” Bradley nodded, moving the strap of his duffle back to his shoulder.

~xXx~

“What did you all want for dinner?” Maverick asked as they all came out of the wash room. Bradley raised an eyebrow at finding the older pilot still looked like he’d taken a shower in grease. He tossed his previously white towel to Hangman before making his way down the wooden steps towards their sleeping bag area.

“Spaghetti.” Mickey answered hurriedly, blushing a dark crimson at everyone’s buds of laughter. Bradley sat himself down on his navy blue sleeping bag and made himself comfortable as the rest of the Daggers followed his example, with Fanboy being lead over by Maverick who was smiling gleefully. “Yeah, maybe I can organise that for us.” He was saying.

“You’re telling me there’s a fast food place near here?” Hangman jumped in quickly, a cocky smirk on his face. Maverick shook his head fondly as he all but fell down into the couch he’d been moving earlier. Bradley watched his movements closely. “Of course not, I’m going to make it.” Maverick answered, rolling his eyes.

That shook a scoff out of Rooster, causing everyone – including his dad – to stare at him. Bradley squirmed under their eyes, “Quite frankly, Mav, I don’t wanna waddle over to the phone to call the fire brigade after you insisted you could ‘cook’ for us again.” The Daggers’ heads all swivelled over to look at Maverick who was gaping at Bradley’s accusation. “Well, Bradley, I don’t entirely believed that is what happened–”

“Nu uh,” the younger pilot interrupted. The Daggers’ heads swivelled back to him. “I strictly remember running up to the door to give Ice and Sli a hug after they’d returned from a deployment and you saying not to bother with take away because you would cook for everyone. And even though both of them told you not to, you did it anyway, and you wanna know what happened? You somehow managed to burn the frying pan and set Slider’s favourite dish towel on fire.” Bradley retold the events of years ago out loud. He never thought he’d ever do that. Least of all to the group that sat around him now.

The heads all swivelled back to Maverick, who was looking over at them with a jaw-slacked expression. “Yo– how the hell do you even remember that?! You were like– six!?” The Captain fumbled out. The heads swivelled back to stare at Bradley who smirked before tapping his forehead, “I’ve got all your major slip ups stored up here for safe keeping.”

Maverick sputtered hopelessly, sagging back into the couch.

“... we both can agree that was an ugly ass towel though.”

“Oh, for sure. No one ever said Slider’s taste was decent.”

“Wait…” Bob spoke up, eyebrows furrowed, “Do you mean… Admiral Kerner?” The Daggers looked back between Maverick and Rooster like they were at a tennis match. Both he and his dad shared an amused look. Bradley had been waiting to see how long it would take to bring this subject up. “Well, kids,” Maverick leaned forward on his knees and all the aviators basically crawled over to him, sitting at his feet.

Bradley chuckled and pulled out his phone.

~xXx~

“God, Sir!” Fanboy gushed, face akin to a child – the tomato paste smeared around his lips making the image even more amusing – as he held up his plate for more spaghetti. “This spaghetti is the best!” Bradley chuckled, twirling his fork around in his dinner. Maverick laughed whole-heartedly and scooped around round of spaghetti into Mickey’s plate.

“After that story Rooster told, I made you out to be a terrible cook.” Coyote admitted, blushing a tad. “I’ve had lessons from the very best.” The Captain shrugged, sitting down at the table to actually start eating his food. “Which is?” Natasha inquired, raising an eyebrow. Maverick’s gaze filtered over to Bradley before digging into his food. All the Daggers swivelled to look at him expectantly. “Dick,” he muttered bitterly, causing Bob to choke on his lemonade.

The older pilot shrugged in response but Rooster could see the smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “So who’s the very best? Some other famous navy name you’re pals with?” Hangman drawled, face turning sour. Bradley chuckled, “It does turn out in fact, that Sunny can make a good dish of spaghetti.” He informed and Maverick groaned in agreement, mouth full of food. “I’m sorry,” Payback leaned forward, “‘Sunny’?”

Bradley shrugged, “Sundown,”

The Daggers all gawked at him. “Okay, I need a list of every famous Navy name you are actually buds with.” Javy demanded, pulling out his phone to make a list. “Well,” Bradley put down his fork, leaned his elbows on the table and turned his head up to the ceiling thoughtfully, “There’s Captain Mitchel, Admiral Kazansky, Admiral Kerner, EX-Captain Williams, EX-Captain Piper, EX-Captain Wells, EX-Admiral Wolfe and… EX-Admiral Neven. Yep, I think that’s it?”

“Ah,” Maverick said, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “Bradley’s dear uncles.”

Rooster rolled his eyes, “I believe Ice was Pops.” He drew his eyebrows together in horror, faltering slightly at his own use of past tense. When had he come to think of their relationship as in the past..?

Maverick sniggered, having not noticed the flaw in his words. “Icepops.”

“... shut up, old man.”

“Icepops! Can we go to the beach pleeeeaase!?” Maverick gave a hideous interpretation of his kid voice that made him cringe. Javy barked out a laugh while everyone else chuckled lightheartedly. “I’m changing the subject now…” Bradley muttered darkly, narrowing his eyes while picking up his fork. “Of course, of course.” Maverick waved his hand as the conversation steadily drove into talk of Payback’s new Cessna.

~xXx~

A shadow stood with its arms crossed over its chest, standing out against the blue glow of the full moon. The shining light rained down over the hangar, bathing the old steel in a hue of diamonds. Bradley drew a soft breath in, his chest tightening as the icy air filtered through his lungs and through his body. He suppressed a chill, instead favouring to rub his bare palms over the exposed skin of his forearms.

He exhaled, eyes looking ahead but not seeing. He was in a different world, not just because he could not enter into the realm slumber, but because everyone else had. After their eventful dinner session, Bradley hadn’t met Maverick’s gaze nor gotten to talk to him as a private one on one. Natasha and Bob had been quick to drag him off to show him the photos of himself around the kitchen sink area. He’d blushed a deep crimson as everyone started to aw and Maverick had laughed. The group had begged for child-Bradley stories.

That was five hours ago.

The green LED lights had been shut off, the golden rays of the sun hidden and the warmth of the desert vanished. As a single man he stood, seemingly watching a pair of house fitches jump around, squawking softly at each other. A stroke of metal under man got his attention. Bradley twisted his upper body around and his eyes locked onto the beautiful P-51 mere feet away from him. By the right side of the plane stood Maverick, a grimace on his face.

Bradley uncrossed his arms, blinking slowly in confusion as the man did not make a move to approach him. Was this how they were going to be from now on? Putting on a friend– family façade in company but never with just each other? Were they to ignore their untalked about problems with others, but carry it ‘pon their shoulders together? Were they that miserable?

“I thought you were asleep?” Maverick spoke first, not making a move to step away from the metal wing. Bradley shrugged in response, adjusting his lower half to properly face his dad. “Couldn’t relax.” He offered after a beat of uncomfortable silence. A smile cracked Maverick’s lips, “You still like lullabies?”

A warm, fuzzy feeling burst through his chest and spread through his nervous system as he allowed himself to smile, recalling the fond memories of Iceman, Slider and Maverick taking turns to sing to him to sleep when his mum had gotten too weak. “Can you actually sing now?” He asked in return, earning a scoff in reply.

“I could always sing, Bradley.”

“My ears beg to differ.”

Maverick shook his head and chuckled, his crows feet crinkling. Bradley’s chest tightened at the jarring reminder of how old his dad had gotten. “Anything you need? Have you shared Ice’s love for horrid herbal tea?” The Captain asked. In actuality, he had, and he’d faced relentless teasing all throughout his days of friendship with Phoenix for it. “You’re telling me you have herbal tea?” He asked instead.

To his surprise Maverick nodded, “Yeah, it’s in the tea cup cupboard.” He explained. “Ha, are you telling me you actually know where something is? Colour me surprised.” Rooster smirked at his dad’s exasperated sputtering. “Har har. You’re quite the talk of the town aren’t you? C’mon, let’s go make some.” So that was how he’d ended up following his dad quietly into the kitchen to prepare a batch of teas for the both of them.

Maverick had boiled the water and Rooster had been tasked to get the mugs and the tea bags. The older pilot surprisingly had a decent array of teas. He rummaged through a few of them, finally settling on the ‘honey, caramel and vanilla’ flavour and tied the tails to the handles. After the teas were prepared, Maverick led him out to where he’d been standing alone before and had produced sun chairs from God-knows where.

Bradley relaxed against the soft material, tightening his grip on the warm mug as it steamed in his lap. The two of them sat abreast, watching as the pair of house finches flew around together in circles amidst the black night. He breathed in the steam from his mug, relishing in the warm soggy feel to his cheeks.

They sat together for a time, watching the two finches with great interest– or, at least Maverick was. Rooster wasn’t quite sure what he’d been thinking (or rather, not thinking) about until the old man decided to speak up. “I’m glad you and the guys came up here,” Bradley looked over at him, watching the small, sad smile tug at his lips. “It’s been a while since the hangar was so full of life and sound.”

Something in his chest tightened at the statement. How long had his dad been so alone for? “We’ll come anytime you want, Mav.” Bradley said. Maverick gave a small chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “I mean it. Say the word and we’ll come running. They adore you.” His cheeks burned as his dad turned to look at him, surprised. “Finally, I get to be the cool uncle.” Maverick said.

“More like the inconvenient grandpa.” Scoffed Rooster.

“Oi!”

“What?” “Inconvenient grandpas are cool.”

“Never said they weren’t.” “You implied it.” “Did not.” “Did too.” “Did not.”

Maverick rolled his eyes and leant back in his chair, gently blowing at his tea.

Rooster took a sip of his scalding tea and tried his best not to spit it right back out. His eyes burned by the time he’d actually swallowed it. “Let it cool, Bradley.” Maverick said while taking a sip from his tea. Bradley raised an unamused eyebrow as his dad started fanning his tongue. “Let it cool, dad.”

Maverick halted his fanning.

Bradley furrowed his brow in confusion. What was wro–

Oh.

An uneasy swirl of green dread burst through out his stomach during the long silence. “Mav– Mav I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to–” he stumbled out, quickly placing his mug beside his chair and sat erect in his chair, unable to think of the words to express his fatal mistake. Maverick didn’t make a move to sit up, place his mug down or even look at Bradley.

Rooster cursed inwardly while staring with wide eyes at his dad, he could feel the tears brimming. He hadn’t meant to let it slip– he knew they weren’t ready yet… but his tongue had slipped along with whatever was left to salvage of their fractured relationship. He’d done it. He’d finally fucked everything up just like he knew he would.

He knew this idea was a bad idea. Just because Maverick had opened up about why he’d pulled Bradley’s papers and Bradley had unmuted the older pilot’s contact didn’t mean they could continue from where they’d left off– did either of them even really remember what it was like before… the fallout?

Was this their sign?

Were they not actually meant to be a family?

Were they destined to always be apart?

“Bradley.”

Rooster flinched and his eyes locked with Maverick’s, who had moved from his chair and was now kneeling in front of him, gripping his bare hands. “I’m–” the younger pilot croaked, but the words fell dry on his capped lips. “Shh, it’s alright.” Maverick ushered, his spare hand wrapping around Bradley’s nape and pulling him into an unbalanced embrace. Bradley clenched his dad’s hands tightly, melting against Maverick’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, kid. It’s alright.” Bradley did his best to shake his head but the Captain simply started threading his fingers through the younger pilot’s golden locks. “It’s alright.”

~xXx~

Phoenix -

Waking up to find the P-51 gone was alarming. What was more alarming was that both Rooster and Maverick were nowhere to be seen. “How the hell did we miss them and the massive war plane disappear!?” Payback all but screeched as half the Daggers busied themselves with either searching the hangar or ringing the missing pilot’s phones.

“Wait.” Bob spoke up, moving towards the door of the hangar with his hand over his eyes. “I think I see something…” Phoenix approached her WSO and peered out, attempting to locate the object that had snatched his attention. Once she saw it, she couldn’t help but smile. The P-51 was approaching the tarmac and once it landed the canopy slid off, relieving Maverick slapping Rooster’s shoulders from the backseat. Rooster beamed from the front. ‘Idiots.’

#top gun maverick #bradley “rooster” bradshaw #pete “maverick” mitchell #natasha “phoenix” trace #jake “hangman” seresin #robert “bob” floyd #tom “iceman” kazansky #top gun fanfiction #for my pal #this took too long to write #oml #but I love it so #it was worth it

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