#mav a little more comfortable with his sexuality

[calkale]

me when I have to think of icemav or slimav in any era other than the mid to late 90s

[mynameismckenziemae]

A Little Bit Stronger

Part 5

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x OFC

Summary: Your feelings for Bradley get deeper as the time passes.

Just like everything else I write/post: this story is for 18+ only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. It will contain smut, adult themes, situations and language. Please also note this story may be triggering due to the topic of domestic abuse (physical, emotional, sexual) violence-feel free to message me with any questions before reading.

Warnings: Smut, oversharing, dry humping, dirty talk, etc.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You call Reese while you change into something more comfortable to let her know the good news. By the time you make it downstairs, Bradley’s already outside.

He’s already got a beer for you waiting while he tosses a ball for Hank from his chair.

You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your bare legs as you cross them.

Instead of asking about the divorce, he asks you about your parents and growing up. In turn, he tells you about Carole and Goose and losing them both so young. You learn more about the people you met last weekend at the party, how Reese’s in-laws were like second parents to him growing him, and how Ice, Penny, and Mav all stepped up too.

“You’re telling me I met the admiral and didn’t even realize it?” Your eyes widen as you try to remember your introduction, hoping you didn’t make a fool of yourself.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “Sorry, I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want to make you more nervous. He’s unintentionally intimidating as is.”

“Just a little,” you say, remembering how true that was.

“He’s extremely observant too; never let me get away with anything when I was a teenager; always saw right through it when I’d lie to my mom.”

“Maybe you’re just a bad liar,” you tease.

He smiles and shrugs, “You’re not wrong, Andy was much better at thinking on the fly to get out of trouble when we were younger.”

The conversation takes a turn toward what it was like growing up with Reese’s late husband. Your heart breaks when he tells you about how it was more than losing his best friend but losing his brother too.

“…and then,” he laughs without mirth before taking a heavy drink of beer, “I kissed his wife on the first anniversary of his death. We were both drunk, like…really drunk. Reese was such a mess that night; I’d never seen her like that. She’s always been so put-together, even with having a baby. But she had just stopped breastfeeding Drew and was so thin from all the stress. She was crying because she missed Andy, crying and saying it was a good thing she never wanted to date again because who would want someone that looked like her? And that just killed me. Andy would’ve hated her talking about herself like that…so I kissed her.”

“What did she do?” You ask, curiously; knowing grief is fickle.

“Kissed me back,” he sighs, “it was like 10 seconds. I came to my senses and pulled away. Then she laughed,” he chuckles, “and I started to cry. I don’t see her that way at all. Sure, she’s a beautiful woman but…no,” he scrunches his nose in disgust, making you smile. “God, I still feel bad about it. She and I have never talked about it since.”

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up over it,” you reply, “and from what I’ve heard about Andy from you and Reese? He wouldn’t either. Grief makes you do things you normally wouldn’t. Like staying in an abusive relationship.”

“That’s different,” he argues, handing you a third beer.

“Not really,” you sigh, “I’d taken care of countless abused women in the ER, begged them to get help, testified in court against their abusers, but when it started happening to me? I did nothing, I was numb from the grief of losing my family and it was like he knew…he knew could get away with it when I was already down.”

“But you did do something,” he argues, “you did leave him.”

You nod, “Should’ve done it sooner, but I did.”

“Cheers to that,” he nods, clinking his bottle to yours. “So what are you gonna do now as a single woman? Go on a blind date? Or to that beach he always said was too far?”

“Maybe go to New York City, or spend a week at the spa and come back knocked-out pretty,” you smile as you quote George Strait too.

“You don’t need a week at the spa for that,” he replies before taking a long pull of his beer.

You give him a small smile before looking away, hiding the heat that rises to your face at his compliment.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“I think I should eat something before I fall asleep,” you mumble after finishing your 5th beer, well past tipsy and feeling good, “or I’m not gonna regret it in the morning.”

“I ordered pizza a few minutes ago,” Bradley smiles as he holds up his phone, “remember? I asked you what you like?”

“Oh.” You snort and shake your head. “Okay, yeah I remember now. God, I love pizza.”

He laughs, “You said that too.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do now that I’m single, eat lots of pizza, ice cream, cake, drink beer. I really do want to take a vacation too. Oh, and I decided I’m gonna order a vibrator…”

Bradley chokes on his drink but you fail to notice.

“I heard good things about a rose one? I don’t know, I’ll have to do some research first. There’s so many options. Maybe I’ll get more than one. Hey, are you okay?” You smack a sputtering Bradley on the back a few times.

“Thanks,” he wheezes, “I’m good, I think the pizzas here.”

“I can get it-whoa,” you stand up a bit too quickly but he’s there, steadying you gently by your arm.

“Thanks,” you look up into those deep brown eyes. You don’t stop your hand from reaching up to cup his jaw to run your thumb over the scars there, “You’re so…”

Beautiful, charming, funny, sweet, kind, patient…

You don’t say any of that though, and instead rock up on your tiptoes for a kiss just as he begins to lean in too.

But Hank starts barking at the doorbell when your lips are a just hairsbreadth away, startling you both.

“I’ll just…” Bradley nearly trips as he steps away, hitting his heel on the leg of the chair, “go get that.”

“Uh yeah, okay,” you say, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I’ll just be out here?”

“Sounds good,” you nod, sitting back down as your heart races in your chest.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Neither of you brings up the near kiss again. Not that night, not in the weeks that follow, nor when summer turns into fall and fall turns into early winter.

There hasn’t been another word or sighting of Chad and you find yourself hopeful that he might actually leave you alone for good. You also start seeing a therapist once a week and begin to feel like you’re starting to heal.

While still on the lookout for an apartment, you haven’t had any luck; not that you’re truly trying that hard.

Living with Bradley feels like home; more than the last one ever did.

Not only does he keep the house clean and treat Hank like he would his own; but he also does small things; things that make your tummy flutter. Like having your favorite ice cream always stocked in the freezer and bringing home a plant a few days after hearing you mention to Reese you were thinking of getting one.

You’ve gone out with Reese and Jake more times than you can count and out to a movie alone once or twice. You’ve even been included on Drew and Bradley’s boys' night “as long as you don’t tell my mom.”

It almost feels like you’re dating without the intimacy.

But you want the intimacy. You want the sex. Hearing Bradley getting off to the thought of you had awakened the libido you thought no longer existed.

It’s like he knows it too; mowing the lawn without a shirt, groaning loudly while lifting weights, sending heated glances your way when you stretch after a run, letting his hand linger on your lower back when he passes you in the kitchen.

While you were completely mortified at your drunk self for telling Bradley, you still ordered a vibrator the next day.

And have used it nearly every day in the 5 months since.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Finished with work early on a rainy Friday afternoon, you change and walk through the bathroom to hit the treadmill in an attempt to wear yourself out before you wear out the batteries.

It doesn’t work.

You’re just as horny as you were before but now you’re tired and your right hamstring is spasming.

“Shae?” Bradley calls from the front door, “You here?”

“Yeah,” you try to keep your voice even as the back of your leg tightens further, “I’m up here. Just work-fuck! Working out.”

“Are you okay?” You heat him set down his keys and hurry up the stairs.

“Fine,” you grit out, “just a leg cramp.”

He stops by the door, eyes widening at the sight of you lying on the floor, clad in only a sports bra and tight short shorts. Your eyes do a perusal of their own, catching the dog tags lying against his white undershirt, his flight suit unzipped and tied loosely around his waist.

He looks so fucking good.

“Here,” his voice is low and husky as he kneels beside you, “try to straighten your leg.”

Your breath hitches as you feel his big, calloused hands on your thigh and ankle as he tries to help.

“Good,” he praises as your leg shakes but eventually straightens, “‘atta girl.”

Oh God.

You close your eyes as you whimper, nipples straining against the thin material of your sports bra while your pussy pulses with need.

“I know it hurts, just try to relax,” he murmurs, gently putting pressure on the ball of your foot, “you can take it, just let me stretch you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, arousal soaking your shorts as you picture him saying those same words in a much different context.

“Here,” he says as he shifts, “put your leg up here. Yeah, like that,” he hums as you prop your ankle on his shoulder, and he leans forward, “That feel good?”

When you open your eyes he’s mere inches from your face. He’s studying your face, looking for any sign of discomfort. But the only discomfort you feel now is between your legs.

“So good,” you whisper hoarsely. His eyes meet yours and darken in realization.

You let your leg fall from his shoulder as your fingers find his dog tags, toying with them before gripping them tightly.

Your head lifts as he drops, lips almost meeting in the middle.

He softly brushes your lips over yours; once, twice before claiming them in a kiss. He’s gentle, a little tentative at first, giving you a chance to stop this.

But you don’t want to stop.

Instead, you nip his lower lip, releasing him when he shivers. He sets his hand beside your head, caging you between his strong arms. When you tug on the tags still in your hand, he takes the hint.

The constant noise in your brain quiets as he claims your lips. It could be minutes, it could be hours that pass as months of longing and tension are poured into the kiss the two of you share.

Finally…yet, you want more.

He must be thinking the same since he shifts as you pull; both gasping when he lands in the cradle of your hips.

Your eyes widen in realization as you feel him hot and hard against where you want him most.

“That’s…” you trail off when he gently thrusts, his flight suit shifting lower on his hips so the thin cotton of his boxerbriefs and your shorts separate you, “That’s why you’re called Rooster.”

He chuckles lowly by your ear while angling his hips so you feel all of him.

Yep. That’s why he’s called Rooster.

His mustache brushes the sensitive skin of your neck, and his breath catches as you wrap your legs around his waist.

A moan escapes as you break from his hips to get more air, yet you tighten the hold your legs have on him before guiding him over your clit faster and faster.

“Wait-wai-fuck,” he’s trying to say something into your neck but doesn’t fight your rhythm, instead leaning into it and giving up with a sweet, defeated sigh.

You’re lightheaded from it all; his clean-sweet and jet-fuel smell, the sounds you’re pulling from him, his ruddy-red cheeks, the building pleasure between your thighs.

“I-, I’m-,” you pant, unable to form the words as you approach the edge.

“I know,” he nods into your neck, sounding wrecked as he sloppily kisses your neck, “I know, sweetheart. Me too.”

You gasp softly, hands tightening in his hair as you shudder through your release, vaguely registering Bradley’s low groan in your ear as his cock twitches as he coats the of his boxer briefs.

He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before rolling beside you. His hand finds yours as you both catch your breath.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Unease and embarrassment at your behavior begin to creep in with the quiet until Bradley breaks the rising tension.

“That was…really hot,” he laughs but then cringes, “and embarrassingly fast.

You can’t help but laugh too, “It’s okay. I liked it.”

“I really like you, Shae,” he turns his head to smile at you.

“I-“ you hesitate, but then remember the conversation with your therapist earlier this week about him.

“I like him,” you admit, “but it’s…isn’t it too soon?”

“That I can’t say,” she replies, “but what I can say is you’re doing everything you should be; seeking help to work through this, taking care of yourself, no longer blaming yourself for the abuse, and you also you started grieving marriage long before it was officially over.”

You nod. It’s true; you knew it was over the first time he hit you.

“Only you can decide if it’s too soon and if you’re ready,” she smiles kindly, “but don’t hold yourself back. You deserve to be happy.”

You take a deep breath.

“I like you too.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: so…we find out a little bit more about Bradley in this chapter and the story behind what happened when he and Reese shared a grief-induced kiss. Also drunk Shae spilling all her secrets is 💯 me lol.

It took a few months but they finally kissed…and more 😏 pretty sure I could have an orgasm just from Bradley talking like that, even if it was just to help with a leg cramp haha.

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

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[pinkberrytea]

Kinky NSFW Alphabet: Mavka & Astarion

Eeee ty ty for the tag @nyx-knox! 🙌❣️✨ This made me realize I rarely ever talk about Mav and Astarion as a couple, I should do that more often 😭

Kinky NSFW Alphabet

Keeping it under the cut since this is a spicy one, so tagging folks first ✨ @zekeen, @bananasfosterparent, @honeybee-bard, @kalmiaphlox, @inkymoonbunny, @judasiskariot and @preciouslittle-bhaalbabe!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Mav is cuddly. She will immediately snuggle up to his chest and wrap her tail around his leg, almost as if seeking reassurance that she’s been good, that he won’t leave her. Astarion typically isn’t, but with her, it’s different—while he finds it strange, having someone else crave affection from him so badly (beyond just sex, no less), indulging her makes him feel almost powerful, like he is needed, wanted, so he will press his lips to her forehead and run his fingers through her hair until she falls asleep, and in the morning, clean her up if they’ve made too bad of a mess.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I’m an Astarion is an ass man truther, so he definitely has a thing for hers. Also her tail—he thinks it’s adorable how she will unconsciously perk it up whenever he's around, like a good little pup. As for Mav, she loves his hair, how soft and fluffy it is, but it’s his lips and fangs that always get her weak in the knees, especially when he flashes her that wicked smile of his.

C = Cum (Where does your muse prefer to cum/have someone cum?)

Inside, for both. Astarion loves marking her as his, stuffing her full and letting her fluttering walls milk him to the last drop. Mav, too, yearns to be filled with him and his seed, as only then can she truly feel whole, safe, so he will usually only pull out come morning.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory: a dirty secret of theirs)

Astarion will sometimes steal Mav’s clothing items—often her underwear, but anything with her blood on it will do—so he can jerk off to them later. She’s aware of this, and doesn’t mind at all, though he’s still under the impression she doesn’t know.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Both are very similar in that they do have experience, only this is their first time with a partner they love and who loves them back. For Mav specifically, she had never been with another fully consensually before Astarion. Laying with someone who is desperate to pleasure them back is a new and scary thing for both, and it can be in equal measure healing and even more damaging, at times. But they're working through it, together.

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Missionary, for both. Feeling him pin her down under his body weight and shield her from the world around them is comforting for Mav. She craves the intimacy of it, and Astarion is more than happy to be entrusted with that control, to look into her eyes as they kiss and take in her image as she comes for him, cheeks flushed and his name on her lips.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

They aren't exactly goofy, but Astarion does tease Mav a lot. He loves watching her writhe and squirm, whine, moan, make all the cute noises, so edging and overstimulation are very typical for them.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Neither have body hair, Astarion in virtue of being an elf, and in Mav’s case, likely due to her origins—or maybe she's just like that.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Mav tends to get emotional, and it's not uncommon for her to cry during sex. Astarion teases her about a lot of things, but not about this, since any sexual act is usually just as emotionally charged for him. Drying her tears is, in a way, like drying his own. How intense it gets varies a lot though, but even during a lighthearted quickie they both become enraptured in their own little world, where there's just the two of them, and nothing can hurt neither him nor her ever again.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

During the events of the game, starting in Act 2 while they're still abstaining, Astarion makes a habit of jerking off every night while feeding on Mav. Sometimes she's awake for it, sometimes she isn't, but either way she doesn't mind. Mav rarely ever touches herself if he's not present, since Astarion is very adamant about wanting to participate, and he gets pouty whenever she comes without him being there to witness, which he's able to tell by her scent.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Oh, Astarion 100% has a choking kink—he takes great pleasure in squeezing Mav's neck and watching her gag, even better if she is tied up or blindfolded. Similarly, she loves surrendering control over her body to him. Needless to say, both also have a bloodplay kink, so him biting her is almost a given whenever they do anything sexual.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Neither have much of a preference, but Mav does enjoy curling up anywhere with his scent, especially if she knows he won't be there when she wakes up—so basically, their own bed, or during the events of the game, his tent.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

For Astarion, there is no greater turn-on than seeing Mav act all shy and bashful, ears and cheeks glowing a bright red and sweet little whines falling from her lips. He will immediately pounce and ravage her whenever he works her up to that point—which he can very easily do by either teasing or praising her, or maybe a mix of both. Also, again, drinking from her will inevitably cause him to pop a boner.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

They aren’t necessarily averse to it, but neither are very keen on her topping. Sometimes if feeling a little more adventurous they may decide to switch things up a bit, and Astarion does enjoy seeing Mav struggle to take the lead (especially if she’s riding him, with the added bonus that he gets to watch her tits bounce and her body get all sweaty and flushed), but even then, nothing that involves him getting restrained (much less humiliated) in any way. Also, bringing other people into their intimacy is something they're similarly not very enthusiastic about, Astarion in particular since he’s very possessive of her.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

They both have a preference for giving—Astarion because he thinks it’s adorable how she will squirm and moan with each flick of his tongue, and also because he loves tasting her, whereas Mav finds nothing more pleasurable than making him feel good. Skill-level wise, Astarion’s is higher due to him having hundreds of years of experience, although Mav’s clumsiness is both endearing and arousing for him, especially since she’s always so eager.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Astarion tends to like it rough, Mav prefers a more sensual pace, so they try to meet each other halfway, starting slow and intentional and then becoming more animalistic towards the end. Although this of course varies according to context—a quickie will usually be rough all the way, and more emotional sex, gentler and softer.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

They have quickies fairly often just because Astarion has such a high sex drive and there’s only so many hours in a day, but both prefer taking their time with it if possible, so they may enjoy exploring each other’s body to the fullest.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Both are fairly adventurous, especially Astarion. While Mav won’t typically make suggestions, she is always willing to try whenever he proposes something new. He is having fun exploring his newfound sexual freedom, focusing on his own pleasure instead of his partner’s, and she has no qualms whatsoever about not always being his priority in bed.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Astarion’s is much, much higher, but Mav does her best to keep up with him (especially since after a particularly rough session she knows that once they’re finished he will cradle her in his arms, stroke her hair and call her a good girl—no better motivation than that!). Mav also doesn’t last very long, at all, which he always teases her about.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Other than restraints and blindfolds, not really.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Astarion is a relentless tease, and Mav, his helpless victim. Squeezing her bum or stroking her cunt in public, whispering obscenities in her ears, pushing his hips against her own to let her feel his hardness, pointing out how wet she already is for him; all highly effective methods he will shamelessly use to make her putty in his hands.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Astarion isn’t very loud, especially once he stops performing during sex. That’s not to say he doesn’t moan, but it’s typically low grunts that will slip from his pretty lips with every thrust, only really audible when he has his mouth close to her ears. Mav, on the other hand, does make quite a bit of noise, which he will enthusiastically coax out of her by suddenly pinching a nipple or playing with her clit while she’s still recovering from an orgasm.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Pulling Mav to him by the tail is endlessly amusing to Astarion because the base of it is highly sensitive and vascularized, so nine times out of ten, she will let out the cutest yelp and become wet for him on the spot. He does this way too often, and it always works like a charm.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We're all aware our boy is well endowed and has pecs for days, so honestly, good for Mav—although she herself was created specifically to be sexually enticing, if her round bum and perky tits are anything to go by, so good for Astarion, too!

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Astarion's is again much higher than Mav's—he is the one who tends to initiate most sexual interactions, but she is always receptive to him, especially since he knows exactly what gets her going (usually a balanced mix of praise and teasing, as mentioned above).

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Mav will fall asleep almost instantly once they’re done—she’s not typically a fast sleeper, insomnia being usually preferable to the nightmares that plague her every night, but when in his arms, cock drunk and safe, she will allow herself the rest. Astarion also struggles to trance for similar reasons, but unlike her, he doesn’t need to, so instead he’ll just watch her, memorize every detail of her face, from the cute little freckles on her nose to the way her long lashes cast a shadow over her cheeks.

[kazanskys-mitchell]

jj do you have an icemav headcanons???

thank u for asking cal i have so many (this isn’t even all of them i dont think)

- ice fell first, mav fell harder

- mav likes coffee, ice likes tea better but will drink coffee occasionally

- mav loves when ice pulls rank on him, it’s definitely a turn on for him

- ice was pining after mav SO HARD in the first movie and you can’t change my mind

- in the locker room after goose dies, i fully believe ice wanted to give mav a comforting hug but couldn’t bring himself to do it

- they both think that the other person is the better pilot but they’ll never say it out loud

- being the little spoon is ice’s favorite thing but he’ll never admit it

- mav will absolutely climb on the counters to get stuff out of kitchen cabinets. ice puts stuff on the top shelf just to spite him

- ice can cook, mav can bake

- ice will work through any sickness no matter how shitty he feels. mav will also, but then he’ll get so sick from overworking himself and make ice take care of him (and complain the whole time)

- mav has ridiculous pet names for ice, meanwhile ice sticks with the classic pet names for mav

- ice is always really gentle with mav (sexually and not) and mav loves it but also loves to be manhandled

- mav loves pda, he gets ice to love it too (it takes a while but he’s successful)

- i firmly believe that mav is a house husband and loves to do things around the house for ice

- mav is a horrible driver, therefore ice drives them everywhere

- as they get older, ice is silently insecure about himself once the grey hair starts to show, and mav is always reminding him how much he loves him (in more ways than one if yall know what i mean)

- mav calls ice “tommy” just for laughs because he knows it annoys ice

- they can’t sleep without each other

- mav wears his ring on his dog tags, and ice wears his on his finger

- ice loves to splurge and buy mav gifts whenever he can

i definitely have more but this is all i could think of rn

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 14 - Sex on Fire

📓 We have fluff! We have some smut!

This song specifically was one of the big three that inspired this fic! When I saw TGM and the scene at the end when Mav takes Penny up in his plane, this song matched the vibe, and I knew I wanted this for Jake and Liz.

Though I would love for you guys to try and guess which one is the song that inspired the whole story! Cause there is one! 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child character, sexual themes (I mean Smut, so get outta here if you ain't +18,), FLUFF, aerophobia, and second dates.

#7k

Part 13 | Masterlist | Part 15

(Bradley's Spin-Off one shot here)

Jake and Sadie were conniving little lunatics. 

Scratch that. Sadie was an annoying insect who knew how to push buttons to get what she wanted. Jake was a gullible poor sod who had the habit of being played by said insect more than once. Because you knew without a doubt, sitting in the front seat of Jake's truck, blindfolded without any idea where you were going, this had her name written all over it.

"Is the blindfold really necessary, Jake?"

"If you knew where I was taking you, you'd jump out of my truck in an instant."

"That's not very reassuring."

Jake chuckled, bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles. "Sadie would kill me if I didn't follow through on this. After all our hard work."

"So you're doing this more for her than me," you tease. You could hear the smile in his voice when Jake replied, "The ladybug incident didn't scare you enough. Sadie's scary when she wants to be."

You chuckled softly, Jake joining in as you felt his thumb stroke across your knuckles.

Going on a date had been the last thing on your mind.

Tyler was still a major concern. Even with Cyclone keeping a watchful eye on the group of police assigned to Sadie and your case, they still needed actual leads. You hadn't paid much attention to his phone call the other day, explaining the pressure on Tyler's father to drop out of his political race or how Tyler's stupid white car was spotted on the interstate, leaving California altogether.

It should have brought you some comfort, but it didn't. The longer time stretched on, the more anxious you felt, wondering when he would make his next move.

Then there was also the matter of Bradley. Stupid, over-emotional, Bradley.

It had been days since Sadie found you in the bathtub - days since the fight. You hadn't heard from him, nor did you expect to. Maybe a tiny part of you didn't want him to reach out. But any nasty thoughts you harboured for him in the days following only managed to turn themselves into pity.

You knew his story. Mav told it enough times for you to recite it by heart. Bradley had only been two when his father tragically passed away. And Carole, his mom, had been devastated. You couldn't begin to understand the circumstances he had to go through as a kid. Each time Mav told the story, he always stressed that no love could have matched Carole and Goose's.

It's no wonder Bradley felt their loss in the way that he did. And you did feel partially guilty, wondering if talking to him about everything before it had gotten this bad would have made a difference. But it was clear he was internalizing something bigger than just hurt feelings. 

You weren't going to make the first move. That would have to be up to him.

It better be a damn good apology.

The idea of a possible date started when Sadie had called you a panicking-inducing hermit, much to Jake's amusement, scared to do anything remotely fun outside the confines of the house. Honesty? It was more to do with the fact there had been no sign of Tyler, no white car following you or sitting outside your house to encourage your paranoia.

You had gone to bed early after that, Jake and Sadie staying up playing a game of cards. You had no idea what time it was when Jake climbed into your bed, waking you up in the process when he pulled you into his chest. But it was definitely later than it should have been for a game of cards.

Jake had stayed with the two of you. Every morning you got to wake up either next to him or in his arms. The Daggers were still grounded; whether it was repairs or upper politics of the Navy, you weren't sure. But you were utterly grateful for his presence. 

It became evident that it was clearly more than a game of cards the following morning. Because in the hours after breakfast, Sadie made herself scarce. And Jake purposely kept you away from the garage, where he had parked his truck, in case Tyler decided to visit.

Sadie's maniacal laughter was another indication, so loud you could hear it through the garage walls. You were slightly concerned about what Jake was letting her do in there. 

But it all came to a head when Nat and Bob showed up at your door, telling you they were watching Sadie for the night, the Bug in question grinning ear to ear as she joined you at the door. You tried to refuse. You didn't want to leave her alone. In a surprise move, Sadie pouted at you. 

She had never once pouted over anything. No, she pushed, sassed, humoured, and produced receipts when she wanted to get her way.

 It freaked you out, so much so you couldn't bring yourself to say no. Which is how you found yourself in the passenger seat of Jake's truck, Nat and Bob standing with her on your front porch as she shouted for both of you to have a good time as he backed out of your driveway.

This was the worst possible timing. And yet, after everything they did, you felt like you owed it to them to try.

"You deserve this, darlin'." Jake's voice breaks through your thoughts, knowing you feel guilty. You squeeze his hand, dropping your chin to your chest. You have to remind yourself that Sadie is safe at home with Nat and Bob, probably arguing over music or what board game to play. And most importantly, you were allowed to take time to do things like this.

It's a few more minutes before Jake finally parks his truck, letting go of your hand and gently taking hold of your face. "Do you promise to give this a chance?"

"I don't even know what you've gotten me into. What Sadie and you got me into."

You can't see his face, so you can't tell what he's thinking. But you can imagine what he looks like right now as you feel him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. You bet he's staring at you apprehensively, gritting his jaw, and letting out a tiny huff of breath.

"You trust me, right?"

You turn your head to place a kiss on the palm of his hand. "You know I do, Jake."

"Then trust me when I say you won't regret this." You sucked in a breath before you nodded.

Jake lets go of your face to get out of his truck, walking around to open your door and help you out of your seat. You were instantly met with the smell of gasoline and pavement, the hot waves travelling up the bare skin of your legs, and your dress slightly flowing in the wind. There's a second where you think you heard the rumble of an engine or a zoom of a plane, but Jake doesn't give you much time to think about it as he helps you step down and shuts the door behind him.

Looping your arm through his, he leads you away, walking for a bit until he stops and turns to face you, squeezing your hand.

"Stay here," he says, letting you go. You cross your arms over your chest as you wait for him, hearing the sound of keys rattling together, sliding metal and a chain dragging along the ground. And then that's it. Besides the sound of wind in your ears and a few birds chirping, you don't hear any sign of him, and it makes you wonder if he's left you alone, standing in the middle of nowhere.

Until you feel his hand gently touching your arm, and you jolt slightly. "It's just me, Liz."

He guides you forward, making you stand in one spot, hands steadying you by your elbows. You feel him against your back for a few seconds before he's working at the knot of the blindfold.

"Just remember you promised," he said before taking it off.

You opened your eyes - to Mav's plane staring back at you.

You understood why the blindfold was necessary. You would have jumped out of his truck in an instant.

"Jake..."

"I said I would get you into a plane for our second date," he said, proud of himself. You knew where this was leading, what he wanted to do. You subconsciously stepped backwards, the words "absolutely not" escaping your lips.

You didn't get very far. Your back met Jake's chest, and he instantly had his arms around you, trapping your body against his. You turn, burying your face in his chest. "I'm terrified of flying, Jake."

"I'm going to be with you the whole time. I promise Liz, nothing bad is going to happen to you." He has the entire nape of your neck in his hand while this other hand is rubbing down the length of your spine in a comforting manner.

You don't know where your fear of flying came from. You've never been up in a plane before, a fact you certainly wouldn't admit to Jake. You were okay with heights, hikes on mountainside cliffs and long car drives.

Maybe it was the idea of not being in control of your body or being grounded.

"Jake, I don't know about this," you admit into his shirt. He presses his lips into your hair before explaining, "I won't let anything happen to you. We're just going up for a simple flight. The wind is perfect right now. There will be no turbulence. Trust me; I'm not called the best aviator at Top Gun for nothing."

He takes his hand off your neck to lift your chin. "Please," he urged, pressing a kiss to your lips. "Let me share something about my life that I love."

It was then, at that moment, you realized Jake and Sadie had something very much in common.

You could never say no to either of them.

___

If anyone had told you a week ago you would be sitting in the backseat of a plane, currently taxing down to a runway, you probably would have dropped dead on the spot. Even with your nerves on fire and a strong case of nausea, you let Jake help you up and into the back seat once he pulled the plane out of the hangar with little protest.

He was so excited to share this with you. Whether it was in how he helped buckle you into the seat or when he placed the headset on your head, there was a side to him you hadn't seen before. Almost giddiness, you thought, despite every internal voice you ever had screaming at you to run for the freaking hills. Even then, you were grateful you got to see this side of him.

As Jake speaks with the control tower expertly, you dart your eyes around the cabin. While there wasn't anything in terms of controls in the backseat with you, everything still looked old. The seat felt old. The buckles of the straps tying you down looked old. Even the walls looked old.

You also felt higher than you should, staring down at the plane's wings, eyes scoring the features, the colours, and the bumps. You knew you wouldn't find anything wrong. Jake was extremely thorough in his flight check, and you knew Mav cared for this thing like it was his child. But you were still scared, even believing if Sadie could do this multiple times with Maverick, who without a doubt took her for joyrides, you could handle a simple flight with Jake.

You should have fought harder to say no. You should have fought harder to say no.

Jake turns back slightly, looking at you from the corner of his eye. "I know it might seem scary, Liz. But trust me. I got you. We'll go slow."

Jake flies in an F-18, a machine capable of much more than whatever Mav's hobby plane could do. So his definition of slow is highly relative. It makes you feel nervous, wondering what he had planned for you.

It isn't until Jake pushes the plane forward onto the runway that you realize you have to accept that this is happening. Then he's accelerating forward, and you cannot help but hold your breath.

Adrenaline floods your veins as the plane takes off, gravity attempting to pull you back down in heavy anger. You slam your eyes shut, trying to force air into your lungs. The angle seems wrong, and you have this feeling both of you will crash into something, making you turn your face into your shoulder to hide.

Even when the plane levels out and things seem okay enough, you can't open them. Your heart is in your ears, and you're trying not to hyperventilate or make a noise. You don't want to ruin this for him. Because deep down, you knew, even with all the teasing and assurances, Jake would turn the plane around for you the second he got the slightest indication you were seriously freaked out.

So, for the longest time, you keep them shut, nothing but your heartbeat in your ears and the rumble of the old engine to keep you company. Even with Jake making this ride as smooth as possible, you couldn't help but alternate between gripping the edges of the seat or hugging yourself tight.

Don't open your eyes. Don't look down. Don't open your eyes. Don't look down.

"You alright?" Jake's voice crackled through the headset. First, you nodded with a hard sallow. But then you realize Jake couldn't see you. Your voice trembled as you managed to reply with, "Yes."

He chuckled to himself, the noise warm and full of amusement. He knew. He always did when it came to you.

"Open your eyes, Liz," Jake urged gently, his voice a mix of reassurance and excitement. "I'm not going to murder you if that's what your thinking."

Despite your anxiety, a smile manages to break through at his words. Actually, they are your words from the day of the hike when you took him down that hazardous unpaved road to the thrift shop. That had been so long ago, way before anything to do with Tyler, Bradley, or even before whatever this was with him.

He had given you the benefit of the doubt then. You owed it to do the same for him now. Shuttering a deep breath, you gathered the courage to open your eyes slowly.

At first, you half expected to fixate on the view of the ground underneath the plane's wings or catch a glimpse of the shoreline or ocean. That you'd hyperventilate, witnessing perhaps an engine on fire or a piece of Mav's plane missing, flapping in the wind.

You saw none of those things.

Jake had taken the two of you further North of the airport, towards a group of mountains. You were right in the middle of them, green caps and tall peaks making you forget you were even bound to the seat of the plane.

This wasn't flying.

This felt like soaring.

Jake banked the plane around one particular mountain, a tall one at the very end of the group. It wasn't until he purposely straightened out after circling around it, did the sun fully come into view. It was already beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky with various hues and shades of fiery oranges, soft pinks and yellows.

The view from the Ferris wheel at the Fair had nothing on this.

Humans weren't supposed to witness views like this. They weren't supposed to be up this high, feeling like they could touch the clouds or be this close to the sun. Or see the shine, this bright, off the peaks of mountains or even be this parallel with them.

This was only something anyone could ever dream about seeing

As the plane glided through the sky, you could feel the sun's warmth casting a gentle light on your face. You closed your eyes, not out of fear this time, but contentment, placing your hands on either side of the window and taking a deep breath.

But when you opened your eyes, your eyes began to water, and you found yourself biting your lip as you looked back toward the sun. The words spilled out of you before you knew you had said them, your voice almost sounding broken as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

"Hi, Ridely."

Because there was something about being up here, in the clouds and the surrounding mountains and feeling the sun on your face, that brought you that much closer to her. Some part of you felt guilty for refusing Mav, Nat and even Rooster, to some degree, to take you up and experience this.

She was here with you. And you had never felt more free.

"You ready?" Jake asked you. Unknown to you, he was smiling, having heard your remark. You looked at the back of his head, a grin adding to the happy tears gracing your face. "For what?"

Jake didn't give you a reply. Instead, the plane tilted, and suddenly, the world was turning on its axis. A squeal caught in your throat as you found yourself spinning upside down.

"JAKE, YOU MOTHERFU.."

But your voice caught in your throat before you could finish your sentence, Jake laughing at your reaction.

Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. You didn't really know what to think about it, whether gravity would be pulling you out of your seat or seeing the world below would make you pass out.

The small part of you, still holding on to your fear, wanted to be mad at him. But the part of you, the one secretly enjoying the entire experience, won out.

The truth was, you couldn't help the laughter suddenly escaping your mouth. You couldn't help the smile as Jake accelerated the plane. Or when he let the nose dip ever so slightly to let it fall, you couldn't help the shout of exhilaration.

The rules of aviation or flight were beyond you as he controlled the plane through the air, nerves dying out and instead being replaced with pure joy.

You really could have cared less about being mad at him now.

The world below, and every problem in it, disappeared. And you were alright with that.

___

You didn't want to admit to yourself as Jake finally landed the plane that you never wanted that to end. Even if you should be feeling relief at being on solid ground or when he parked the plane in front of the hanger, you were high on adrenaline and sheer joy. 

You peered up at Jake's hesitant face after he helped you climb out of the plane, standing on wobbly legs. You couldn't do anything but pull him down by the back of his head and kiss him hard. He laughed into the kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your side as he spoke against your lips. "I take it your not afraid of flying anymore?"

You pull away, pressing your forehead to his chin. "Only if you are flying the plane."

It's feeding his ego, you are sure. His chest puffs out under your hands, and that cocky smirk he's known for returns, present in the kisses he's placing on your head.

"So I still have a girlfriend, then?"

You stiffen. Jake would want to put a title on this, even if it was only your 'official' second date. The both of you have done so much of this backwards, way outside the box of how 'normal' relationships were supposed to go. But in a few weeks, Jake and you went from a first date to sleeping in the same bed to him staying over for a week.

When was your and Jake's relationship ever straightforward? And as you told yourself in that bathroom at the fair, there was nothing wrong with being in love with Jake Seresin.

"I didn't know you had one," you say nonchalantly. Jake plays along, hands gripping your hips. 

"Oh, you didn't hear? Big Bad Hangman is suddenly enamoured with this assertive, savvy bartender at the Hard Deck. Turned him down flat on his ass the first time they met. Didn't stop him from wanting to be around her, though." 

"The shameless, cocky flirt who says the wrong thing at the wrong time, humbled by her and her sassy niece." He leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not to mention she's fucking hot."

You hummed, nodding your head and purposely avoiding looking at his face when he pulled back, your cheeks flaring up hard. 

"Will you look at me, Liz?"

"I can't."

Jake laughs at your reply. "You can't? Now why's that?"

"Because you're all ego right now and boastful, and you get that cocky smirk when you do," you mummer, still purposely avoiding his eyes. That cocky smirk grows even wider as Jake tugs your hips into his.

"You mean this cocky smirk?" he teases, pressing his nose to yours, maintaining his smile. You're fighting with yourself not to smile, but it's a battle you've already lost. Jake nuzzles his nose against yours before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, still grinning. And then another to your cheek, just below your eye, before he's littering your face with them, and you laugh as you try to escape him.

"But if you really want to know," he says after you give in, smiling at him as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. "I think you were mine the second you gave me that clean slate in your kitchen."

 "I was yours?" you press playfully, quirking an eyebrow. Jake pauses for a second, making a show of having to think about his answer. Till his face lights up in recognition, and he says," Oh wait."

He makes a show of standing straighter, dropping his voice lower and making his southern accent purposely thicker. "You've bewitched me body and soul since that night in your kitchen."

"Oh," you laugh wholeheartedly, knowing precisely what he's doing. "You're not trying to, Mr. Darcy, this!?"

He frowns. "I thought you liked Pride and Prejudice."

You grin at him, your hands working through his hair before you kiss his lips, pulling back slightly to mummer against his mouth. "That was before I had a decorated hotshot Navy fighter pilot sleeping in my bed."

Jake growls, and you giggle as he bends you backwards, kissing you again.

Stowing away Mav's plane didn't take very long. The two of you were on the road with daylight still out and Jake telling you the night was far from over. He took you to your favourite takeout place before driving to an Outlook, telling you he'd like to come here to think things through.

You know he intends for the both of you to sit on the flatbed of his truck when he backs it into the parking spot, purposely making it face out towards the water. He presses a button before the two of you get out, making the back cover come off. 

But Sadie's involvement in conspiring to get you into the backseat of Mav's plane clearly didn't end with the blindfold. Because the second two of you walk around and Jake drops the tailgate, Sadie's handiwork glares back at you.

You don't know where to look first. Your air mattress sits in the flatbed with a spare mattress cover. A few pairs of blankets are covering it, and you know she would have needed help to get the two spare pillows sitting at the back, the ones you kept on the top shelf of your linen closet.

Of course, Jake could have managed this all on his own. But the dead giveaway was the lights. It only could have been Sadie who had taken the battery-operated string lights you had on the bookcase in your family room and strung them to the sides of his truck, the electrical tape you knew had been Jake's idea.

When you get over your shock, you turn to Jake, absolutely speechless that he let her do all this. He shrugged like it was no big deal. "What? I have to give her credit. Bug's creative."

He set the bag of food down before placing his hands on your waist, lifting you up to sit on the edge of the tailgate. "Get yourself comfy, darlin'."

You didn't move. For the sole fact you were wearing a knee-high dress, and if you turned to climb on top of the mattress, he'd get a pretty nice view of your ass. He shot you a look once he hopped up, and you shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "You can go first."

He chuckled knowingly. "Nothing I ain't going to see eventually."

It was nice to know Jake's ability to make you bush hadn't waned after recent events.

The two of you settled up against the pillows, takeout containers in both of your laps as you ate, talking about Sadie and what it might look like for her when he had to return to school next week. Then his phone rang. You spied the face-time ID as Jake reached for it on the blanket in front of him.

Janet.

He looked guilty as he asked, "Do you mind if?"

You shook your head, smiling around the fork in your mouth before managing, "Of course not."

Jake handed you his takeout container, bringing his phone up to answer the call. But instead of his sister's face, he was greeted by the sight of a baby in a blue cap.

"Surprise!" Janet's tired voice rang out through the speaker. "Meet your nephew!"

Jake's eyes glazed over the second he stared down at his phone. His hand holding his phone slightly shook, and he reached out to grip the edge of his truck with a thump. You couldn't help yourself when you dropped the takeout containers onto the blanket in front of you and peered up over his shoulder.

"Oh my god, he's adorable."

Suddenly, the camera flipped on his phone, and Jake's sister was staring back at both of you.

Even in a hospital gown, her exhaustion evident, it was clear Janet was Jake's sister. Her hair was the same colour, her eyes the same shade of green. Her mouth was the same shape, and you were sure if she smiled, you would undoubtedly see Jake's same smile beaming back at you.

"Shit, he wasn't kidding when he said you were gorgeous."

You ducked, hiding your face behind Jake's shoulder, heat rising in your cheeks. Whether it was the quickness of your escape or Janet's revealing words, Jake seemed to snap out of his daze.

"Janet!"

"Hey, I gotta embarrass you where I can. Call it payback for all the times you shared my dirty little secrets with Ian."

"Those weren't secrets, Jan. He needed to know what he was getting himself into."

"Bless his heart for it too."

You shook your head, chuckling into the back of Jake's shirt at their banter. Jake looks over his shoulder at you, slightly amused.

"Come out, Liz," Janet called out from the phone. "I don't bite."

"Much," Jake grumbled.

This wasn't exactly how you imagined meeting his sister, one of the few people he actually considered his family. Slowly lifting your head from behind Jake's frame, you managed a hesitant smile, gripping him for dear life. "Congratulations, Janet."

She smiled at you, replying, "Twelve hours of labour, but it was so worth it."

"What did you name him?" you asked, unable to contain the joy in your voice.

"E.J.," she said, looking down at the bundle in her arms before returning to look at the screen, clarifying, "Elijah-Jacob."

Jake drew in a sharp breath, and Janet didn't hesitate when she cried out, "As if I would name him anything else, you idiot."

Resting your chin on Jake's shoulder, you peered up at the side of his face with an affectionate smile. "Your full name's Jacob?"

But he didn't answer you, instead asking his sister, "Now, why on earth would you do something as stupid as that?"

Janet shot him a disappointed look before her eyes tracked over to you. "Liz, will you help me out here?" she said, tilting her head toward Jake.

"Glady," you replied, tapping the back of his head. Jolting under your chin, Jake faced you, slightly shocked. But you only shot him a disapproving glare.

"You're my baby brother. You risk your f-ing life day in and day out every single time you go up in that jet of yours or go out on deployments to make sure everyone else can sleep safely at night. And when you are home? I won't even start on all the shit you stand up against, not with Liz here."

Janet lets out a huge sigh before exclaiming, "So don't question my judgment or my choice. There was no way I was going to name him anything else. Suck it up."

Jake could only shake his head in disbelief, a humbling smile growing with each passing second.

"Now, hand me over to Liz. I wanna talk to her properly."

This is so backwards, you think, as Jake passes his phone over to you with a knowing smile. You are suddenly filled with nervousness you are not used to. This was the one person you knew Jake sought approval from. Everything was riding on this one interaction.

But your nerves settle instantly when she grins at you and casually mentions, "So, he managed to get you up in that death trap."

"It seems everyone knew about this little plan but me, even my niece, dead centre in the middle of it."

Janet grins at the mention of Sadie. "From what Jake has told me about her, she's a girl after my own heart."

"Sassy? Opinionated? Knows how to get her way?"

"Something more like being an insect, but I can see where the similarities lie."

You chuckle softly, feeling Jake rub your side, before you say, "You remind me of her."

"I'd love to meet her one day. And you in person. "

"I'd like that. I'm sure she'd love you."

Jake shook his head violently, and you couldn't help but laugh at him. "My nephew will get all sorts of horrible ideas if he meets Sadie. Don't start him that young!"

You gasp at him. "Are you saying my niece is a troublemaker, Jake Seresin?"

"You know she is."

You shake your head, bumping him with your shoulder.

"Please get my number from my little brother over here. I want somebody to send cute baby pics to," Janet pouts.

"Could you send me embarrassing stories?" you wiggle your eyebrows. Janet smirks, a playful look in her tired eyes. "Oh, you want them. I'll give them to you, no problem."

 Oh boy, did you like her.

"Nope." Jake tries to reach for his phone, but you are quicker, laughing at his attempts as you stretch your hand out of his reach. "You have a ten-year-old in the palm of your hand who has an honesty problem and years of embarrassing stories about me. Let me have my chance!"

"In comparison? Nope. Not even close. Give me my phone." Jake holds out the palm of his hand. And then you get an idea, shooting him a playful stare as you extend your hand farther.

"Come and get it, Cowboy."

Suddenly, Jake lurches forward, almost toppling you over. Jake's efforts to retrieve his phone only cause you to break out in a fit of giggles, your stomach cramping so much you fall over into the air mattress, Jake landing on top of you. Your grip on his phone is still tight.

"If my sister wasn't on the other end..." There is no threat in his words. Jake's smiling with you as you continue to laugh, trying to pry the device out of your hand. Janet's shout through her own laughter interrupts the two of you. "Keep it pg, you two! Literal newborn ears over here!"

Jake manages to swipe his phone back when you laugh even harder at her words. You sit up, wrapping your arms around his as you try to fit yourself into the view of his phone screen when the two of you settle.

Janet looks up at something in her room and frowns. "I gotta go. The nurse will come back any minute and yell at me, I swear."

The both of you say your goodbyes, Janet explaining more than once she was happy Jake found you. But just before he went to end the call, Janet called out his name. 

"Watch out for a package from Texas coming up there."

Jake's smile flees at Janet's words, slowly dissolving into a sombre expression. His body tenses under your touch, and you see the second his eyes darken with a deep-seated seriousness. It's a side to Jake you've only truly ever seen once before - when he found you handcuffed on the floor of the Hard Deck.

Growing up, you and Ridley had all sorts of codewords and phrases for different things. Those were the unfortunate circumstances you had to live with as a kid. So you knew right away Janet didn't mean an actual package. Whatever it was, Jake was clearly not happy about it. It was making you deeply concerned. 

Jake reaches for your thigh, grip tightening when he replies, "Yeah, okay."

He hangs up. And doesn't mention anything else about it.

__

After finishing your dinner in silence, you sat next to Jake, staring out at the horizon. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you tight to his side. At some point, you had placed both of your legs over his lap, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

It was still light out when Jake and you left the tiny airport, and the sky was now turning dark, leaving the small parking lot of Jake's outlook out secluded, the two of you alone and in utter peace. His fingers were absentmindedly stroking your skin as you both took in the last few minutes of the sunset.

"You okay?" you asked him, kissing his shoulder before looking back over the water, suddenly aware of Jake's hand slowly getting closer to the inside of your thigh. He kissed your cheek, replying, "Never better."

You don't buy it.

"You're an uncle now," you wondered aloud. Jake shrugged. "I already was one."

"But it's different. Sadie is..."

"Sadie counts." He quickly corrected you, kissing your forehead before looking back to the water. "She'll always count."

It warms you, his level of affection for her, but you cannot help but detect a sense of finality in his tone. Reaching up, you cradled the side of his jaw, turning his head back to you so you could lean up and kiss him.

Jake presses his lips to yours softly before pulling back to look at you. There's something in his eyes you cannot name.

Then his lips are back on yours, this time steady and encompassing, parting your lips with his tongue. Your grip on his face tightens as you suddenly find yourself being tilted backwards, sliding down the pillows until Jake is half on top of you. Your head is pillowed on his bicep as he kisses you, your hand still cradling his jaw. 

He then goes for your neck in a desperate breath, open-mouth kisses, sucking harder and harder. You're used to this. The two times Jake had you pinned up against him, he had marked up the side of your neck. But his hand, not trapped under your head, is wandering. Groping at your breast, sliding down your stomach to the outside of your thigh, testing his grip. 

He hikes your outside leg up, fingers brushing the sensitive part inside your thigh.

Your breath hitches.

"Is this okay?" he whispered into your ear. You hummed your reply, nodding once. But Jake grazed his nose along your jawbone lightly, fingers delicately sliding up and down the inside of your thigh.

"Words, Elizabeth."

Damn him and his accent, saying your full name.

"Yes," you gasped out, wanting him. "It's absolutely okay."

"My good girl," he says before diving back to your mouth. You know he's teasing you as he strokes your skin, making you quiver with anticipation of what is to come. But then he's reaching for the helm of your dress, lifting and folding it over your stomach, as he releases your lips in a harsh pant. 

The question is there in his eyes as he looks down at you, fingers resting just on the helm of your underwear. You swallow, opening your legs wide. Jake's eyes glaze over, and his arm flexes under your head. You're giving him this—this first experience of letting someone be with you. 

He doesn't hesitate when he starts dragging them down. You eagerly lift your hips to help him take them off. Once he gets them past your ankles, he shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Jake hisses when he takes you in, so spread out for him. "Can I touch, darlin'? Can I touch what is mine?" 

Fucking hell, Jake. Do you have a consent kink?!

"I'm yours," you gasp into the night air. "Please, Jake, Please."

Jake rests half on top of you, swallowing your whimper as he finally reaches and presses down on your clit, slow, gentle circles that have you closing your legs and sharp breaths racking your chest. Your hand shoots out and grips his wrist, feeling his muscles contract under your hand.  

"Keep them open, Liz," he warns, shifting down slightly so he can turn you and press you back against his chest. Jake slots his leg between yours, expertly thrusting his knee so your leg hooks up over his, never stopping in his efforts.

He rubs at you with ease, carefully watching how each movement makes you react before he switches to his thumb, and a single-finger probes at your entrance. You thrust your hips back into him, a strangled noise crawling out of your throat, and Jake uses it as an opportunity to push his finger inside. 

"That sound, " He breathes against your cheek. "You're driving me goddamn insane."

You used to worry back in university that you'd feel trapped if you ever found someone you trusted enough to do with this. But even with Jake poised at your back, working between your legs, you did not feel as if you weren't in control. Your body is open to the air, and Jake is only holding you down by his hand and the weight of his words. 

You feel safe. 

He adds another finger, curling them inside you, searching for something when you let out a sharp whine. It burns. The stretch. The sensations that were spreading across your groin. 

You felt full with Jake's finger's inside you, squelching sounds accompanying each time pumped them in and out of you.  "You're so tight," he moaned into your neck. "I won't have you here, but fuck Liz, the day I can have you gripping my cock." 

You bury your squeal into the flesh of his arm, your arm not currently gripping Jake's wrist, whipping out to find the side of his truck, making a string of lights fall. 

Not slow. This is not slow. 

"Knowing I'm your first." He bites the soft skin behind your ear. "That your mine." 

Your cry is muffled into this arm, and Jake glides his nose up the back of your neck to your ear. "Don't look away, Liz," he soothes. "Let me see your face."

It's the last thing you want him to see, ironically. The faces you make aren't pretty, and your eyes are slammed shut. And you were sure if you did open your eyes, you'd explode at the slight; you spread out so shamelessly open to the sky. Jake's hand between your legs, working you higher and higher off an unknown edge from the flatbed of his truck. 

But you do manage to turn your head back, Jake immediately catching your mouth with his in a desperate kiss. When he lets your mouth go, you whine out with a pant, "Fuck Jake, I can't." 

"Yes, yes, you can." Your words must have encouraged him because suddenly, his thumb is circling faster, and his fingers are pressing harder, working that spot inside you. Your eyes are screwed shut, tears seeping through as the ball in your abdomen grows tighter and tighter, nails biting into his wrist. 

"Are you going to let go for me, darlin'," he gasps into your open mouth, hovering above you. You wanted to, desperately. "Will you let me have it? 

You drop your head to his arm, the feeling too much to bear. You are on the edge of something, fire radiating from your core and making your thighs shake. Jake pants into your ear, once, twice before he moans, "Will you cum for me?"

His thumb swipes over your clit as he presses hard on that spot inside you. You keen, lights exploding behind your eyes as you arch your hips towards his hand, legs trembling as you clench around Jake's fingers. The cool breeze from the sea or the cool air from the night sky does nothing to the heat flooding your veins.

He's there. Turning your head back, catching your cries into his mouth, and taking the bruises you're pressing into his arm without flinching. In fact, he's smiling ever so slightly, watching you come apart underneath him.

You weakly turn in his hold, whimpering and trying to bury yourself into his chest as every emotion hits you at once. Jake pulls his fingers from you as you do, and you feel embarrassed at the wetness coating your thighs. Gripping the back of your leg, he rolls, taking you with him. Your body crashes limply onto his chest, and the one leg he's holding straddles his waist.

Your trembling, gripping his shirt to ground yourself and will strength back into your body.  There's a hyper-awareness you are not used to dancing across your skin - allowing you to feel the fabric of the blanket underneath you, the chill in the air, Jake's warmth, your release cooling on your thighs and covering his fingers, grasping your bare leg.

Any rational thought has gone out the window. Except for the fact you know Jake could not have gotten off from that.

He's hard against the inside of your thigh, through the denim of his jeans, the rough fabric creating friction against your clit as you rock lightly to the pulses aching in your core. He's groaning with each press, fighting with himself not to cant his hips up into you.

Even as you continue to whimper your aftershocks into his neck, you find yourself trailing your hand down his chest and to his stomach, fingers barely slipping under the waistband of his jeans, just reaching the first few strains of hair.

But Jake grunts, pulling your hand away and shaking his head. He brings it up to his mouth, kissing the palm before stating, "It's not about me right now."

"Jake..."

He doesn't give in to the soft pleading of this name. Instead, he grips the roots of your hair at the base of your skull, ensuring there isn't an inch of space between you as he pulls you close. His other hand is gripping the bare skin of your ass, keeping your dress up around your hips and lower half exposed to the cool air.

This time, you do feel trapped.

He's holding you like you'd be carried off by the breeze, ready to disappear at any second. As if faced with another deployment, off to fight a war with the fear of never making it back. The switch in him is so sudden that the aftershocks of your recent orgasm are reduced to cooling embers, and it only adds to your unease when Jake gasps through a sharp breath, "Just let me hold you and forget about everything else."

The concern you felt for him earlier returns with a vengeance.

Jake's anxious about something, and he's not telling you why. Suddenly, the chill in the air is too cold, the blanket is too rough, and Jake's fingers and the insides of your thighs are chalky, rubbing against your skin.

You focus on breathing instead, trying to calm your rapid heart. You weren't going to hold whatever this was against him.

Because despite not knowing what to think about having your real first sexual experience in the flatbed of Jake's truck, you today were the happiest you had felt in a while, even with literal hell overtaking your life. 

But listening to Jake's heartbeat pound under your ear, the paranoia you've ignored so many times before makes a home in your chest, and the allusion that was today dissipates, and everything comes rushing back. Tyler. Bradley. And now, whatever Janet warned Jake about that was making him act this way.

It was all a possibility again.

You couldn't help but feel this silver of happiness wouldn't last that much longer.

Tag List:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy

Part 15: Have you ever seen the rain? Coming soon

Wickett ;)

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Everytime I watch Top Gun Maverick (or clips of it like I have today) I get such an urge for a time travel fic where the Daggersquad & Mav end up in '86 Top Gun

The ship goes through a storm and the daggersquad end up in 1986

Mav ends up in his '86 body but is still his TGM self because he was there when they time travelled but Bradley wasn't yet

I'm unsure whether it's all 12 or just Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Coyote, Hangman, Payback and Fanboy because managing all twelve may seem a little cluttered so we'll just go with those

I mainly want this just because 1) Rooster, Hangman and Coyote will have to somehow figure out how to fly f-14's because they're double seaters and 2) I want them to experience flying in the cold war, because like the film says "they've been dropping bombs from high altitudes with little to no dogfighting"

Like, the attitude has got to be different from today

Also, Rooster's heartbroken the entire time because his dad is right there but he has to act like just another Naval Aviator

Phoenix is the only female aviator there, I checked and they were allowed in but probably weren't common, the first woman to graduate from Top Gun was in 2004! So yeah, 🌟 80s Misogyny 🌟

I have a few scenes in mind, one where Goose happily walks into the locker room after getting a call from Carole saying that she’s got the time off work and will have 2 whole weeks with him

Slider says he didn't know the circus was coming to town

Also, maybe Goose giving advice on how to please a woman, Rooster's mortified and didn't realise how sexual the locker rooms could be

Talking of locker rooms being suggestive, everyone from the daggersquad picks up on Ice and Mav, including Mav because he's from the future

But things start to change as Mav spends more time with the daggersquad, trying figure out how to get home

Such as, when Carole and Bradley are there, what usually happens is: the Bradshaws + Mav go out for dinner, get spotted by Hollywood and Wolf, then by Ice and Slider until it becomes a group hangout

But, Mav’s with the daggersquad, so it's just the Bradshaws, so Hollywood and Wolf leave them be for some family time, so Goose gets to have the night with his wife he's been planning for almost 10 months

He runs around to Mav’s room and, disregarding the daggersquad, practically begs Mav to take Bradley for the night as he "is a loyal husband"

Mav’s confused, this hasn't happened before, so Goose sighs and blatantly says "I haven't had sex in almost 10 months and my wife is getting into something 'more comfortable' that 'we'll both enjoy', so please, take Bradley"

Rooster's even more mortified

Mav realises they're changing the past and has some hope that maybe they'll be able to save Goose

All is not well, as Bradley and Rooster are starting to see each other’s vision and almost passing out because there's 2 Bradley's in one timeline

They end up passing out and they all have to come clean

If you have any ideas, please tell me! Also feel free to suggest any fics like this, I love them 😍. Thanks for reading this!

[seasonsbloom]

baby, let's play house. rooster (part 2)

part 1

pairing ; bradley bradshaw x female!reader

synopsis ; marriage of convenience. you got yourself in trouble. bradley has a bit of a savior complex. together, you come up with what could potentially be the worst idea in the longstanding and illustrious history of bad ideas.

wc ; 6k

warnings ; angst; explicit language; explicit sexual content in later parts; pregnancy; mentions of Tom Cruise; unhealthy family dynamics

note: jesus this is so late... and it's so short.... I'm so sorry y'all???

Two weeks later, you marry Bradley Bradshaw.

The Miramar City Hall is a horrible building, all the worst aspects of suburban SoCal architecture wrapped into one. It looks like Disneyland trying to do stately, with the walls painted an indefinable color somewhere between salmon and eggshell. Massive white pillars protrude from the facade, and through the square windows, you can see rows of underpaid clerks poring over documents, computer screens, or jelly donuts. A long fountain stretches in front of the stairs, water bubbling forth in steady streams.

You stand under the sloping canopy of the front entrance, feet aching in the heels you dug out of the depths of your closet, seven out of ten nails bitten down to the beds, heart fluttering in your throat as the panic swallows you whole, and wait.

Bradley offered to pick you up, but you declined politely but firmly, insisting instead on driving yourself. Some weird, last stand for your independence, maybe. Or you had just needed the fifteen-minute drive to calm down, to let the wind whistling in through the rolled-down windows whip some sense back into you, to listen to the same song on loop until the routine of the rhythm, the repetition of the notes, lulled you into a false sense of security—either which.

All that forced calm is gone the minute Bradley climbs the last step and smiles at you. Behind that smile, though, barely concealed by a thin veneer of cheer, in his eyes, you can see his tension clear as day.

He’s in his dress whites, cap and all, and for some reason, that makes you want to cry. With the added breadth of the shoulder boards, he looks even broader than usual. You can’t stop staring at the ribbons pinned to his chest.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “You look beautiful.”

It dumbfounds you. You glance down at the dress you panic-bought using your nest egg last week, at the open-toed sandals you got on sale for your senior prom. It’s hardly Vera Wang, hardly what you imagined for yourself.

Part of you feels sad for having missed out on the Say Yes to The Dress moment, on the champagne and the entourage and the lace and veil. Part of you wonders why you even care when there are so many more important things going on.

“Thanks,” you mumble, even though you’re pretty confident he’s lying. “You look handsome.”

Bradley acknowledges that with a twitch of his mustache. Then he turns and points at the man behind him.

“This is Mav. I don’t know if you guys have met….”

Mav is just as dressed up for the occasion as Bradley is, and you almost feel bad. With how focused you were on Bradley and the dread of the impending nuptials, you didn’t even notice him.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Mav says, a wistful smile on his face as he leans forward to offer you his hand. You’ve seen Pete Mitchell around the Hard Deck pretty frequently since Penny and he started dating, have poured him the occasional drink. You get the feeling he used to be the kind of handsome hotshot aviator Hangman fancies himself to be these days, but to you, he’s always looked a little too much like Tom Cruise for comfort. “I’ll be your witness today.”

“Oh.” You shake his hand in a daze. Somehow, you’d expected Bradley to bring someone else. Anybody else. You didn’t even know these two had any ties except for their military ones, but now you can see the tether of familiarity between them. It’s glaringly obvious, and it makes you uncomfortable for reasons you can’t explain. “Thanks for that. It’s very nice of you.”

Pete chuckles. “No worries at all. Happy to be here. It’s not every day you get to watch a boy you’ve known since he was born getting married, can you?”

It’s light-hearted, affectionate, but it hits you like a fist to the stomach. You can barely breathe.

Oh God, you think. Oh God, what am I doing?

Suddenly, you feel so alone it builds like a lump in your throat. 

“You ready to go?” Bradley asks, and you wonder if he can sense your profound discomfort or if he’s just eager to get this over with and continue with the rest of his day.

“Sure,” you say, fingers tangling in the straps of your purse. “Yeah.”

The city hall is cooled down to arctic temperatures. Outside the office, waiting your turn, you clench your jaw to the point of pain to keep your teeth from chattering. Covertly, you try scooting closer toward Bradley on the rickety chairs. The man radiates heat like a furnace.

Pete excuses himself to find some water after a while, but you suspect he might just be trying to give you and Bradley some space.

“You okay?” Bradley asks the moment you’re alone, twisting sideways in his chair to get a better look at you.

You don’t want to lie to him, but you also don’t want to tell him the truth: That you’re miserable. That nausea kept you up all night, ripped you out of bed at three am every day the past week. That you can’t sleep anymore. That your legs ache and cramp. That the guilt and the worrying are making you dizzy. That you’re fraying at the seams, unspooling, coming apart like an old sweater.

So you just shrug without looking at him, which isn’t an answer at all, and say, “And you?”

“I’m fine.” Bradley is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Do you still want to do this?”

His voice is neutral, a blank slate, but you know what he means without saying it. If you want to call this off, I won’t be mad. 

Maybe he’d be relieved, actually, some masochistic part of you thinks. Relieved to get away from you and all your chaos.

At least he should be if he is even half as smart as you suspect.

It makes you wonder how he would react if you actually were to leave him at the metaphorical altar. If you were to release your inner Julia Roberts right now and book it out of here runaway bride style.

Not that you could. These shoes definitely weren’t made for running.

Part of you wants to, though - just get the hell out of here. Leave this whole thing behind and never think of it again. Maybe it would be doing you both a favor.

But then you think of the baby. You think of free healthcare, of a house with a separate nursery, of the trust fund. You think of waking up in the mornings and not being alone.

Voice halting, words slow, you say, “Yeah. Do you?”

Bradley doesn’t hesitate. “I do,” he says, and then he’s reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. “Hey, I got something for you.”

It’s a ring. A simple silver band with a little diamond, nothing flashy, nothing big. Classic. Reliable. So Bradley Bradshaw it would make you laugh if this whole thing weren’t so goddamn sad.

Stunned, you stare at it for a moment, and then you say, “You… you bought a real one?”

Figuring that he might actually end up needing them, you’d given Bradley back his dog tags the night he proposed, and you hadn’t even considered the issue of a ring again. It was such a stupidly trivial thing in the face of everything else that’s been going on, the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. 

Now, looking at it, it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s a beautiful ring, inconspicuous but lovely. Exactly the kind of thing you would have picked out for yourself if the situation had been different. If everything had been different. 

“No, I… I had this at home.”

Confusion sets in. “What, you just have wedding rings lying around your place? Do you propose to girls a lot? Are you like… a habitual proposer?”

Bradley laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, I…” Then he’s clearing his throat, and he’s shifting in his seat, and your heart is racing. “It was my Mom’s.”

The panic ignites like a forest fire. You feel it everywhere, tingling in your fingers, snapping in your bones.

“No,” you say immediately, trying to push it back into his hands as you shake your head. “You can’t give this to me, Bradley, no, I.….”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts you. He’s smiling. “You can just give it back to me… after.”

After the divorce, your brain supplies helpfully, filling in the blanks he left in that sentence.

It feels like you can’t breathe. Your hands and feet are numb. The telltale burn of tears sears behind your eyes.

“Bradley,” you whisper, “this was your Mom’s.”

And it sounds like a plea. Like you’re begging. Like you’re saying, Please, don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me even worse of a person than I already am.

But Bradley’s still smiling. A soft, genuine smile as he closes your fingers around the ring. You feel the cold, circular shape of it against your palm. 

“It’s fine,” he repeats, and he’s so calm about it all. How can he be so goddamn calm? “We want it to look real, right? No way I wouldn’t give this to my wife.”

And then you don’t know what else to say. Don’t know how to argue with him. Not when he’s the one pushing the whole thing.

So you give in. Nod. Hope that maybe, in some strange way, this will make him feel better. Even if it settles like a stone in your stomach, stacking on top of all the others. 

You offer it to him on your open palm. “Maybe you should give it to me inside there, then.”

Bradley laughs, the sound a little sheepish, and accepts the ring back. “Right,” he says, “good thinking.”

Bradley is too nice for his own good, that’s what you’ve determined so far. Even if this might be a mutually beneficial agreement, you know he’s getting the short end of the stick. After all, you’re the one bringing all the baggage here.

A thought crosses your mind belatedly. “Does your Mom… not need it anymore?”

Almost imperceptibly, Bradley stiffens next to you, and you know right away that you’ve made some mistake, some miscalculation, even if you can’t tell exactly what it is. 

Without looking at you, he says, “No. She’s dead.”

You open your mouth to say something, to apologize, to quell that horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach, but you’ve barely made it past a choked Bradley when Pete comes back, handing you a small paper cup.

“Here,” he says, “you should have some water. You look like you’re about to throw up.”

The smile he gives you is so warm it makes you want to scream. Can’t you see? you want to ask. Can’t you see I don’t deserve your kindness? Can’t you see I’m ruining Bradley’s life?

Instead, you accept the cup, nod, force an answering smile, and say, “Thank you.”

“Wedding jitters?” Pete asks as he sits down next to Bradley again, elbows braced on his knees to look at you. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No…” you begin to protest, but Pete is already pushing on.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he jokes, grinning at Bradley. The kind of mischief on his face could put the fear of god in women stronger than you. “This one is a handful. You know, when he was twelve, he….”

“Mav,” Bradley interrupts, tone somewhere between long-suffering, warning, and affectionate.

You never do get to hear the story because the door opens and your names are called.

Everything happens very fast after that. Your officiant is a bored-looking woman in her forties who manages a well-practiced but pleasant smile throughout the vows. You stand facing each other in a lackluster room with a painting of palm trees on one wall, with no one in the rows of wooden chairs but Pete Mitchell, a man you barely even know. Bradley won’t take his eyes off you, and you can’t look at him without feeling the guilt overwhelm you.

It should be a happy day, but it reads an awful lot like a tragedy.

You both say I do, Bradley slips the ring on your finger, and then the officiant is saying, “Congratulations. You may now kiss the bride.”

It’s lightning fast. Bradley leans over, leans into your space, leans so close you can see the streaks of gold in his facial hair, can see the apology flickering in his eyes, and then his lips meet yours. It’s the softest pressure, like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. It’s the coarse hairs of his mustache tickling your skin, the warmth of his mouth against your own. It’s the fluttering of your heart, your hands clenching into fists, your stomach swooping.

For a moment, time is frozen, suspended, moot.

Then Bradley’s pulling away, a shy smile crossing his face, and you’re dizzy, you’re spinning, you’re falling. You want to cry.

And that’s how you marry Bradley Bradshaw: In a city hall on a Tuesday morning, with something in your chest that feels suspiciously like foreboding.

+

“I promise I didn’t know about this,” Bradley whispers into your ear half an hour later. One of his hands hovers above the small of your back, and though he doesn’t touch you, the phantom pressure of it sends shivers down your spine. His breath traces over your exposed shoulders.

You let your eyes wander over the Hard Deck, only half full and populated with people from Bradley’s life: His old squadron, friends from the Naval Academy, a few from back when he apparently attended UVA. (You still don’t understand his CV one bit and decide to ask him about it later. These are the things you should probably know about your husband. These are the things you would know about your husband if any of this were real.) Everybody’s smiling and congratulating you, and a banner strung from the ceiling, dangling between the models of airplanes, between the beer jugs, spells out CONGRATULATIONS! in big, colorful letters.

It’s obvious, it’s glaring, it’s so visible it blooms a shame somewhere in your belly - that they’re all here for Bradley. Your parents didn’t make it to California on such short notice, and there hadn’t been anybody else to invite. The only people one could count as your side if they were being especially generous would be your co-workers from the Hard Deck, standing behind the bar and looking out of place.

The whole day is a stark reminder of it all. Of your loneliness, of your solitude. Lonely enough that you had no one to invite to that ceremony at the city hall. Lonely enough you agreed to marry a stranger.

“That’s okay,” you tell Bradley, and it’s only a little lie. “It’ll be fine.”

You don’t know what you expected to happen after the wedding. Maybe to get fast food from whatever drive-through you passed first and then spend the rest of the night curled up in your bed, trying to forget what you just forced Bradley to do. Maybe just to get out of these heels. Certainly not for Penny to discover her inner event planner and throw you a surprise party.

But there was something on Penny’s face as she went to embrace you, something about the way she looked when you told her you were getting married to Bradley. An expression she was trying to hide. A flash of hurt, maybe, or a trickle of frustration. You chalked it up to her being upset that a guy she’s known since his teens didn’t tell her about his relationship with her employee, but that reasoning seems threadbare now.

Phoenix wears a broad smile, warm, her hair for once out of the army-commissioned coil and spilling dark and glossy over her shoulders. She’s out of the usual uniform and slipped into a blouse and pants for the occasion. The whole picture of her as anything other than the put-together pilot you see usually unsettles you a little.

“Congratulations,” she says, moving to give you a hug. Then she leans back to look at you. “Or should I say condolences? I can’t believe you married Rooster. Poor girl.”

You force a laugh, but you wish she’d step away a little. Up this close, she might be able to see the shame. It must be written all over your face.

Penny starts handing out shots. The tequila rushes from the bottle into the glasses in a stream of clear liquid, splashes of it landing on the bartop. You stare at the lime wedges, the salt shaker, stare at everybody lining up shoulder to shoulder, and the panic flares in your chest.

“I have to pee,” you announce to no one in particular, and then you’re slipping toward the bathroom, pretending you don’t feel Bradley’s eyes on you.

When the door falls shut behind you, you turn the key in the lock and lean your forehead against the wood. The material is cold against your skin, and you blink at the patterns, at the stains running through the dark oak like veins. Press your finger to one, and your eyes closed.

With your heart racing, your hands shaking, you stand like that for a moment, bracing yourself. You hadn’t expected all the attention, all the pretending, and you feel drained before any of it has even begun. You’re not sure if you can really pull this off. Maybe you’ll just crumble under the weight.

What a mess, you think to yourself, rubbing the heels of your hands over your eyes, then panic when you remember the mascara you painted on earlier. You check yourself over in the mirror, reapply your lip gloss and smooth down some flyaways. 

You remember staring at yourself in this very same mirror two weeks ago, the day you did the test. You remember thinking how strange it was that you still looked the same even after your entire world had changed. How the outside did not reflect the inside at all.

You still don’t look any different. But it seems to you you’ve gone from nothing to something by virtue of association - now you’re someone’s mother, someone’s wife.

Then why am I still here, in this bathroom, alone? The thought comes with a bitter taste spreading on your tongue, like blackcurrants bursting in your mouth.

Bradshaw, you think, and then you say it out loud, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw’s wife.”

You feel the shape of the words, feel as your tongue forms them, bounces them off the roof of your mouth, and then past your lips. Hear them echoing off the walls. Watch yourself in the mirror, the muscles of your face flexing and relaxing, your lips meeting to dispatch the bs.

And still. None of it feels real.

The room smells freshly cleaned, astringent in its intensity. Your nose tingles like you’re going to sneeze. Carefully, you slide the wedding ring off, put it on the side of the sink, place it with the quiet plink of silver meeting porcelain, and then you wash your hands three times. Just last month, you went to Costco with Penny and picked up a 20-pack of orange blossom-scented soap, and now you watch it lather to a foam, the water so hot steam rises off it, and your fingers burn. Watch as it spirals down into the drain, bubbles popping.

It shifts reality back into focus. You turn off the faucet, use a few paper towels to dry your hands, put the ring back on, and then you step back into the din of the crowd, where even friends suddenly look like strangers, and you don’t look into the mirror again.

Bradley is waiting in front of the bathroom, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his head turned toward the ground. When you open the door, he snaps up immediately, unfolding himself from where he was leaning against the wall. His hands dangle uselessly by his hips.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you echo. You don’t meet his eyes.

“I was wondering….” He trails off. You focus on his shoes - they’re shiny, shiny enough the light bounces off them, and you wonder distantly if he cleaned them for the occasion. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say and try to smile, but with your face still turned down, the effect is lost. Might be for the better, too - you have no idea what you look like. Your face is numb.

“I…” You glance at Bradley, at his furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw. For a moment, it looks like he wants to say something stern, something probing, but then he changes course at the last moment. “Should I carry your bag?”

Instinctively, your fingers go to the strap of your crossbody bag. You rush, “No, that’s fine. It’s not heavy. I can…”

“Please,” Bradley says, reaching for the bag but not touching you. Leaving his hands hovering in the open air. “Let me do this for you.”

You want to tell him he’s done enough for you. You want to tell him he’s the only person, in a very, very long time, who’s done anything for you. You want to tell him that you’re sorry, that you’ll never forgive yourself, that maybe this was a mistake, maybe…

Some guy you don’t know squeezes past you and into the bathroom, winking at you and slapping Bradley’s shoulder as he passes, hooting something about wedding nights. Beer sloshes over the rim of his bottle and splashes to the floor.

When he’s gone, the moment has passed, and the need to tell him anything has been snuffed out by your own embarrassment. You slip off the bag and hand it over, watch as Bradley slides it over his shoulder. It’s a ridiculous sight: The dainty thing juxtaposed to his uniform.

It makes you smile.

“Thanks,” you say and mean it.

Bradley shrugs, but you catch sight of his expression before he turns toward the bar room again, and you think he looks pleased.

A few of his friends whisk him away as soon as you step back into the party. Somebody has turned on the overhead fans, and stale air circulates into a cool breeze. There’s a speaker system set up on the bar for once, playing more modern music than what the Jukebox has to offer, and out of the fog of your memory, of the whirlwind, haphazard thicket of the past few weeks, rises a single moment. Penny leaning across the bar, hand outstretched, saying, Let me have a look at your Spotify. I’m getting some inspiration for a musical update.

Suddenly, you feel warm all over.

Hangman finds you by the bar, grinning ear to ear. There’s always been something wolfish to his grin, but you don’t fall for it. As much as Hangman likes to pretend the opposite, play up his flirting and his taunting and his casual cruelty, when it comes down to it, he’s harmless. A sheep in wolf’s clothing through and through.

“Honestly,” he says in lieu of a greeting or even congratulations. “You could’ve told me about this. Would have spared me a lot of trouble.”

“Hello to you, too, Jake.”

He dismisses that with a wave of his hand and places his glass on the bar top. Condensation drips off the sides, pools in a puddle on the wood as the ice melts, and the lime goes sliding away from the center. “You gotta admit it wasn’t entirely fair.”

You sigh and decide to indulge him and his games. “What wasn’t?”

Jake points a finger between you and him. “This. You’re breaking my heart, sugar.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, frowning.

“I’ve been flirting with you every time I came down to Fightertown,” Jake says. “A whole year, sugar! You could have told me that all this time you were dating goddamn Rooster of all people.”

“Flirting,” you repeat, dumbfounded, at the same time as another voice says, “Don’t start harassing my wife, Seresin.”

Hearing it out loud pulls the rug right from under you. Bradley’s hand lands on your elbow - neutral territory, you think, inoffensive, harmless - and his mouth is twisted into a jovial smile, even as his gaze flickers over you like he’s looking for something. You blink down at your shoes.

“I’m not harassing her, Bradshaw. I’m flirting with her, not that you’ve ever heard of that.”

Bradley shrugs. “Aren’t they the same thing with you?”

Between their banter, you feel decidedly out of place. Just another reminder that you don’t belong into Bradley’s world.

“Anyway.” Hangman sighs, leans back against the bar and crosses his arms over his chest. For a moment, he glances between you and Bradley, prompting you to shift your weight, to step a little closer into the open fan of your newly-anointed husband’s arm. If you want to tell this story, you’re going to have to start selling it. Hangman’s mouth curls into a grin. “Jesus,” he says finally, “I can’t believe you knocked a girl up before I did, Rooster.” 

The words run through you like lightning. If you had any liquid in your mouth, you’d spit it out right now. To your right, Bradley stiffens, his hand tightening around your elbow, then loosening again. 

“What?” he asks, and his voice sounds like something got stuck in his throat. You can’t look at him.

Hangman’s grin remains firmly in place. “That’s why you guys did it, right?” Then he mimics somebody loading a shotgun, complete with sound effects. “Her dad’s got tone on you?”

“I…” Bradley’s sentence trails off like he ran out of steam. Whitney Houston bellows about wanting to dance with somebody from the speakers. Glasses clink, people laugh, cues hit eight balls. The sound of your own heartbeat in your ears is deafening.

Hangman laughs. “I’m messing with ya,” he says, clapping Bradley on the shoulder and giving you a smile that seems uncharacteristically soft. “You guys have been disgustingly in love with each other since you met. The baby on board is just the cherry on top of the perfect peanut butter chocolate sundae, right?”

“That’s not true!” you protest, and then promptly want to slap yourself. Somebody says you’ve been in love with the guy you just fake married and that’s the part you want to deny?

Laughing, Hangman shrugs and downs a tequila shot. “Keep telling yourself that, sugar,” he says, bending down to press a quick, sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Whatever. Congratulations to you two.”

He disappears into the mess of the night, whistling a tune, beelining toward a pretty, single girl at the back of the room. Bradley, stoic and silent and unmoving at your side, says nothing.

You watch the people, their easy joy, their thoughtless happiness. The way they smile without caveat, enjoy themselves without footnotes or guilt. 

“Well…” Bradley clears his throat, but you don’t care to look at him. “I never would have predicted Hangman would be the first one to figure it out, right?”

“I guess so,” you agree, even though you think he’s wrong. Hangman is as perceptive as any Navy pilot has to be, quick on his feet and good at reading situations, people, lies. Even if you were never particularly close with him, you can tell this much.

“Is… are you okay?”

You shrug, shake your head before you can think better of it, then nod out of instinct. “Sure,” you whisper. In the breeze of an air vent, you shiver, moving to rub one hand up your bare arm.

Bradley springs into action immediately, moving your purse to one arm, unbuttoning his jacket and slipping out of it. “You’re cold,” he’s saying, obviously relieved to have found something to do, “here, take my jacket…”

“Stop!” Your voice is much too loud. Several heads turn in your direction and you duck your head, feeling the blood rushing into your cheeks, the wetness into your eyes, the blood in your ears. Everything feels shaky, like you’re on deck in a rough sea. Your hands twist into the fabric of your dress and you watch as you crumple it between your fingers. “Just… stop being so nice to me, Bradley. Just stop it. Please.”

From the corner of your eye, you watch as Bradley’s arm drops uselessly to his side, the jacket dangling from between his fingers. His feet shuffle along the hardwood floors. “Oh,” he says, the word soft and airy and so full of something like hurt that you bite the inside of your cheek bloody. “Well. I’m sorry.”

Another beat passes. You should say something, you think. Apologize or thank him or tell him that you’re stupid and mean and ungrateful and you don’t deserve someone as nice as him. But no words come. You’re completely empty, drained. You’re so tired and so confused and you don’t get it. You don’t get what’s happening here and what Bradley is getting out of it and how you even ended up here in the first place.

Tomorrow, Bradley is going to drive a U-Haul truck to your shitty apartment where your life has been shoved into boxes. You’re going to move out of your own space and into a house with a man you don’t know and you don’t love but whose ring you wear. You’re going to wait for a baby you never wanted, and you’re going to watch as your dreams and your plans wash away like water down a drain. You’re going to give up the person you used to be, shove her into the very back of your sock drawer, something to be marveled at only in private, only on rainy Sunday mornings, only when nobody else is looking. Tomorrow, you think, in a way, your life will stop being your own and start being somebody else’s.

So what you want right now then, more than anything, is to be alone.

Bradley says nothing else. You hear as he leaves, as he follows after Hangman, moving away from you, but you don’t turn to look. You stay staring into nothing, your heart in your mouth, a ring on your finger, a baby in your belly, and your life in shards on the floor.

Careful where you tread, you think, dumbly, you might be treading on my soul.

+

The first thing Bradley Bradshaw - your husband, you have to remind yourself, your actual, real-life husband - says to you in your new house is this: “I’m sorry about last night.”

He’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the living room, clutching a bottle of beer like a lifeline. The television is on to provide background noise, some talk show you’ve never seen before where twins separated at birth are currently being reunited. You sit curled-up in an armchair Bradley brought, knees up at your chin, hands on your ankles. A pizza box is unfolded on the coffee table, steam still rising off the sizzling cheese. Your mouth waters at the scent, but you’re strangely shy about taking a slice. Like tearing into this pizza is going to be the straw that finally breaks the camel’s back on this strained truce Bradley and you seem to have entered into.

“No,” you say, fingers tightening around your ankles. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Bradley looks relaxed from his position, his back leaning against the couch. At home, here in this house for which he provided 90 percent of the furniture, 100 of the artwork. Mostly weird watercolor landscapes and one or two Hitchcock film posters you’d rather not ask him about. “I was being… overbearing.”

The thing is this: Bradley did help move your stuff into this new house. He loaded the U-haul and he lugged your meager belongings up to your room. He didn’t say anything about the water-stained mattress or the lack of a bedframe, about the peeling paint on your desk, the squeaking office chair. He hung the curtains you wanted and gave you a string of fairy lights to climb up one wall. This is your home now, you’d told yourself up in that room, staring at the powder blue walls, the floral bed sheets, the potted plant. This is it. 

And still. It feels like you’re sitting in a stranger’s house, visiting from out of town.

“You weren’t,” you tell him, and you mean the words. “You… you’ve done so much for me, Bradley, and I…” 

“It was nothing,” Bradley cuts you off. “None of… it’s fine. I’m not… I wanted to help, okay? So stop… stop thanking me or feeling indebted to me or like… I don’t know. Have a slice of pizza, okay?”

He hands you one before you can say anything, and you hold the scalding dough in your hand, watch as he bites into his own slice. A bit of cheese gets caught in his mustache. His throat moves as he swallows.

Out of nowhere, suddenly, without warning, you ask, “If I followed you on Instagram… would you follow me back?”

It’s juvenile. It’s stupid, it’s so dumb, and you have no idea where it even comes from, but you have to ask, feel it like a need that burns through you. You just want to know.

If Bradley is confused by the sudden change of topic, he doesn’t let it on. Instead, gaze still on his pizza, he says, “I already follow you.”

“You… you do?”

He shrugs. “You probably didn’t recognize me. I don’t think I’ve ever posted on there.”

“What, you don’t have a profile pic?”

Now he has the audacity to blush and you hate the way it makes you feel, hate that something in you twists at the sight. “No, I do, just… I’m not in it.”

“Who is, then?”

He opens his mouth, closes it again, and turns half away from you, like he’s trying to hide his face. You frown.

“Bradley?”

“It’s…” He sighs, curses, licks the cheese off his mustache and runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck it,” he mumbles. “It’s my Bronco. I have a picture of my car as my profile pic.”

A beat passes, and then, miraculously, you’re laughing. Actual, real laughter that bursts from you like water from a pipe. “Oh,” you choke out. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Bradley grumbles, but you see the tentative smile stretching his face, the probing, searching look thrown your way. “I’m a grandpa. At least I know what Instagram is.”

“Do you use the premade insta filters?” He doesn’t answer. “Oh my god, you do!”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” Then he leans forward and deposits another slice of pizza on the one you haven’t even eaten. Grease stains your fingers. “Here. You’re eating for two.”

He turns to stare at the TV, a furrow of concentration carved between his eyebrows, and in this living room, in this house, with him on the floor and you in the armchair, with pizza steaming between you and your things upstairs and his things everywhere, for a moment, just a moment, you think that maybe, after all, things might turn out okay.

[its-the-pilot]

Where My Christmas Lives | One-Shot

Merry Christmas everyone! Sorry I'm a little late with this one, but here's my entry for "Snowman" in @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge!😘

Summary: You and Bradley go to Lake Tahoe to stay with the Kazanskys for Christmas. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: mild teen sexuality

Length: 1.6k words

Pairing: teen!Bradley Bradshaw x teen!Female Reader

| Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

Message or comment to join the taglist!

Where My Christmas Lives

“Your mom really thought of everything. I can’t believe she planned this trip for us a year ago,” you smiled, resting your head on Bradley’s shoulder as you watched the snow fall outside the taxi on your way to the Kazansky’s cabin in Lake Tahoe a few days before Christmas.

Bradley squeezed your hand and kissed the top of your head. “Mom always liked a white Christmas,” he mused, looking out the window as the car came to a stop. As you gathered your things and climbed out, Iceman exited the cabin to settle the fare with the driver. 

“Come on inside, it’s cold out here,” Ice offered, helping Bradley carry your bags into the cabin. Once inside, he hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let me get a look at you two,” he said, turning to shake Bradley’s hand. “Every time I see you, I see more of Goose. You’re just missing that ridiculous mustache he always wore.”

“I don’t think I can pull off that look.” Bradley laughed, returning the firm handshake.

“Never can tell,” he said knowingly, motioning toward the living room. “Go make yourselves comfortable, I’ll take your bags upstairs.”

Bradley dropped onto the couch with a sigh as Ice disappeared up the staircase, leaving the two of you alone in the living room. “Come sit with me,” he mumbled, eyes sliding closed as he patted his thigh and held a hand out for you. 

You had wandered across the room, looking at various pictures and decorations around the cabin when Bradley's voice met your ears. Taking a few steps back toward him, you accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull you onto his lap, his strong arms encircling you. “Tired?” You asked, reaching one of your hands up to card through his hair gently, your nails brushing against his scalp. 

He nodded, relaxing under your touch. There was a long moment of quiet before he spoke, his voice low. “Is it wrong I'm glad we're here instead of home for Christmas?”

Shaking your head, you frowned only briefly. “Mama Carole knew, I think. That's why she planned this,” you explained, resting your head on his shoulder. “I'm glad we're here too. And hopefully Uncle Pete makes it.”

Iceman smiled at the young couple as he came back downstairs, heavy footsteps making his presence known so he didn't startle them. “Sarah and the kids will be back from the store soon, so enjoy the peace and quiet while you can,” he warned, crossing through the room toward the kitchen. “Planned on making steaks and potatoes for dinner, take advantage before it starts snowing again.”

“Sounds great,” Bradley replied, finally opening his eyes and looking up at the Captain you both thought of as a surrogate uncle. “Need any help?” 

“You two relax, you're our guests. If you wanna do something, help entertain the kids. They're a handful.”

You nodded but didn't have a chance to reply before the front door opened and two small children came barrelling into the living room, calling your names. Dropping a kiss to Bradley's cheek, you managed to slide off his lap just in time for the kids to jump on both of you. 

“Hey guys! You got so big!” You smiled, hugging Ice’s four-year-old daughter Katie tightly. The last time you had seen them was over a year earlier at Ice’s promotion to Captain, before Carole was diagnosed. 

The kids switched places after a moment, scrambling over you and Bradley like a jungle gym. Jack, the six-year old boy, bounced on the couch excitedly and tugged on your hand. “Can we build a snowman? Daddy said you’d help!”

You shared a look with Bradley, seeing the smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth as you silently asked him to join you. “We’d love to,” he replied, lifting Katie into his arms as he stood from his seat. 

Jack jumped down and ran to the back door, you and Bradley close behind him. Once you were outside, he set Katie down and let the kids get started on the snowman as he passed you his gloves.

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, only to have him slide them onto your hands one at a time. “Bradley…”

“Your fingers will freeze off,” he argued, giving you a quick peck on the lips before nudging you toward the stairs. “Go on, I’ll be right there.” He chuckled at the roll of the eyes you gave him before stepping off the deck, looking back over his shoulder when he heard Ice step out of the cabin. “Hey, I was hoping to talk to you for a minute.”

The older man nodded as he started up the grill, a plate of steaks and potatoes sitting on the table beside him. “Sure, what’s up, kid?”

Bradley pushed his hands into his pockets and moved closer. “I need a letter of recommendation for the Naval Academy, and I…” he hesitated briefly before continuing. “I was hoping you’d write one for me.”

“Why not ask Maverick?” he asked, curious as to the answer. He had a feeling that he knew, given the discussions he had with you over the past few months regarding the tension between Maverick and Bradley, but he wanted to hear the teen’s explanation. 

“He doesn’t want me to join up. My mom wasn’t thrilled about it either,” Bradley sighed, shaking his head. “But it’s my life, and I wanna fly, like you, Mav and my dad.”

Ice nodded and looked out to the yard where you and his children were working on your snowman. “Does she know?”

“She knows I’m applying, yeah. We haven’t really talked about flying yet though,” he explained, his eyes moving to watch you as well. “I don’t know how she’d take it, she worries like crazy over Mav.”

“Would it stop you? If she said she didn’t want you to?” Ice asked, putting the food on the grill before leaning against the railing of the deck and studying him closely.

Bradley was quiet for a moment as he considered the question. He hadn’t thought about it before, what he would do if your reaction to his wanting to be an aviator was not what he wanted to hear. “I don’t know. Probably not. We’d just… have to work it out.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ice sighed and gave him a look. “I’ll write you the letter, Bradley, but you need to have a conversation,” he said firmly. “I can see the way you look at her. Your mom saw it too, long before it was real.”

“She did?” He asked, pulling his eyes away from you and looking back to Iceman. 

He nodded, clapping the younger man on the shoulder as he returned his attention to the grill. “She was always saying you two would end up together.” He flipped the steaks over and turned back to Bradley. “It’s not fair to either of you to assume she’s on board with whatever you wanna do with your future. You have to take each other into consideration. Got it?”

“Got it,” Bradley nodded, moving toward the stairs to join you and the kids building the snowman. “Thanks, Ice.”

Iceman waved him off, continuing to grill while watching the four of you finish the snowman in the middle of the yard. It was a little lopsided, but his kids cheered when Bradley lifted the head on top and put his baseball cap on it, finding a couple of dark colored rocks to work as eyes. 

After dinner you helped Sarah put the kids to bed while Ice and Bradley cleaned up the kitchen. When all the chores were done, you found your boyfriend sitting on the back deck beside the fire pit as a light snow fell around him. Grabbing a blanket, you stepped out and sat beside him, wrapping it around both of you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked quietly, nuzzling his cheek with your nose.

He looked over to you, offering a small smile. “Hey, Dimples. I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh? Good things, I hope.”

“Always,” he said, kissing your temple. There was silence for a moment before he spoke again. “We need to talk, though.”

You frowned, the tone of his voice sparking a bit of anxiety. “Okay… is everything alright?”

He took your hand beneath the blanket and laced your fingers together. “I’ve told you I want to go to the Naval Academy after I graduate. I talked with Ice earlier about writing a letter of recommendation for me.” You responded with a simple nod, allowing him to continue uninterrupted. “I want to be an aviator. I know you get anxious about Maverick flying, so I just…”

Before he could finish, you cut him off with a soft kiss, your free hand lifting to rest on his jaw. “I support you, no matter what,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. “I can go to the University of Maryland and we can visit when you get leave. We’ll make it work, Bradley.”

“Really?” He asked, resting his forehead against yours. “What about you? Being with a Navy man isn’t easy, I don’t want you giving your dreams up for me.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes and kissing him again, long and slow. When you finally parted, you squeezed his hand, offering a smile. “You’ll be in the Academy for four years, I’ll have time to go to school myself, don’t worry,” you explained. “Bradley… as long as I have you, and we’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“I’m really quite something,” you teased, kissing him once again before standing and offering your hand to him. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep, the kids already have plans for us tomorrow.”

Bradley accepted your hand after turning the gas on the fire pit off, letting the flames die down. Standing, he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your neck. “Sounds great. I’m glad we came out here this year.”

[micahmaeve]

you have been slowly converting me with all your icemav posting, and i recently rewatched top gun and i am s o l d. it has been consuming all of my thoughts! do you have any favorite fics??

omg, am I really?? welcome to the club!!

I’ve thrown myself head first into icemav recently so I can ABSOLUTELY rec some of my favorite fics I've read so far!!

When We Get Around to Talking About It by @compacflt is the pièce de résistance of icemav fiction I think, for me personally. It's masterfully written and nuanced and just so heartbreaking. the characterization feels so true to how these men would really be in real life and how they would deal with coming to terms with their feelings for each other and sexuality while being in the navy. and as if 90,424 words of beautiful prose wasn't enough of a gift, there is also a sequel/other stories called Debriefing (& Other Stories) which includes a more truncated version of the original but from mav's pov which is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻

Dreams of Impact by thecarlysutra is also very good. It involves a little supernatural flavor, which I enjoy, and revolves around how their lives could be different if they'd just made one single different choice.

come the same colors by susiecarter is a fav. It's a classic 'you got hurt and it's made me reckon with how I really feel about you, but I haven't figured out how to express that'. So basically it's amazing. this author also has a great catalogue of icemav, so it's really a jumping point to read all of her great work. A Shared Cup is another personal fav of mine from this author. it involves soul telepathic bonds. soooo good

a binary star by vannral is a really yummy piece of fanfic. the first line of the description is the perfect primer for how great the rest of the fic is: "Ice hasn’t ever given much thought to celestial things up in the sky but he knows that Maverick burns like one." like. c'monnnn

i'll ride in this life with you by sassenach082 is an ice and mav raise bradley after carol passes away fic, and it's full of sooo much lovely hurt/comfort that is so sweet it will rot your teeth. any fic with a plethora of baby bradley is going to be good for me

I saw beauty to the north by sortalively (tiisis) is a delayed injury fic set post TG:M. It has a lot of rooster and ice and mav reconciling in it which I'm a sucker for. and, if you like the exploration of rooster and mav's relationship (I'm a sucker for parental figure fics lets not unpack that) this author has some greaaaaaaaat fics on their page for that!

cloaked in the bruises of our failures by faerie_ground will rip your heart out. It takes the mission from TG:M and moves it to the 80s with our favorite class of '86 being trained to fly it, all while Mav and Ice are a few years post a messy 'break-up'. I should warn you that this one comes with a trigger warned from sexual assault from a person of authority to an employee, so if you aren't interested in that maybe skip this one. It is so beautiful though and treats the subject with the respect it deserves. slithered here from eden (just to sit outside your door) is another by this author that is very good and I am waiting patiently for an update

a higher fidelity by basedchamp is a classic slowburn with ice and mav developing their friendship before they realize their feelings for one another

no brighter diamond by qin_ling is a wonderful 'five times...' fic and it's so good. Everything by this author is fantastic so you should def check out their other stuff. as lions is about time travel. delish.

You're Gonna Be The One That Saves Me by an orphan_account is amazing. It's got mav struggling post hop 31 and Ice being there to offer emotional support and more if you know what I mean

'Til I Understand by Katastrophe (Karrington) is about Mav punching out of dark star and kind of fills in some blanks about what his loved ones went through while he was missing. Katastrophe is another author with a large catalogue to just go crazy in

PurpleArrowzandLeather has 153 tg fics on their page with a huge variety, some icemav, some flyboys of '86 (which I adore, I love fics showing their friendship). you can get lost in their page for a while haha. they also have their bookmarks public! so you can dig around in there, too

Sailor's Delight by saurora_borealis can be read as ice and mav or icemav and I think we both know which one I infer it as. Mal de Mer by them is like that, too

baby, baby, i'd get down on my knees for you by boasamishipper and simplecoffee is 'five times mav proposes and one time ice says yes' fic. It's sweet as candy

Is this arguably too long a response? yes. are all of these worth the read? also yes

I hope you enjoy!!

[xihe1874]

An Icemav one-shot inspired by "Silhouette" (Aquilo).

Let's go out in flames so everyone knows who we are, Cause these city walls never knew that we'd make it this far. We've become echoes, but echoes that faded away. So let's dance like two shadows burning out our glory days.

The devils on your shoulder, strangers in your head. As if you don't remember, as if you can forget. It's only been a moment, it's only been a lifetime. But tonight you're a stranger, or some silhouette.

---- "Silhouette", by Aquilo

————————

Pairing: Iceman/Maverick

Word Count: 1308

Rating: T

Tags: Post-Break Up, Getting Back Together, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Flashbacks, POV Iceman, Inspired by Music, Past Relationship(s), Sad, Soft, Ex's to Lovers, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Movie: Top Gun (1986)

————————

Iceman hates parties and gatherings, especially those that demand his reluctant interaction with the brass. Being the ambitious and promising young Commander he is, Tom Kazansky understands the inevitability of such social events perfectly, but he still loathes them.

He holds the glass of red wine in his hand, swirling it elegantly. The shirt he wears is too tight around the neck, and the tie isn't helping with the situation at all - he already sweats a little under the stuffy material. Despite his callsign, Ice is constantly feeling hot. That's because you are hot, babe. A fond and teasing voice sneaks into his mind from the abyss of memories, sounding eerily like…

No. Ice scolds his brain, no, don't, I am not thinking of him in some Navy balls, for fuck's sake. At least for tonight, let me have some peace of mind without being tangled in my messy past.

You are always thinking, Ice, does your mind ever rest? Is it tired? 

Stop. 

I love how you say "stop", Ice, especially when you are ordering me not to…

NO.

——————————

"So, Commander Kazansky." Vice Admiral Carlson gives him a curt nod. "Your reputation precedes you." Ice raises his glass towards the admiral. "Sir, I hope all you heard are good things." 

"You bet. Flawless service record, marvellous combatting experience, the youngest Commander Navy has ever had… You are a rising star, son."

"Thank you, sir. I am just doing what I can for my country and people." He takes a sip from his glass and lets the liquid slide into his throat. Ice likes red wine, though he is more of a Vodka guy. Beer is OK, too, though Mav loves it much more than…

Stop. Stop, stop, stop.

"You went to Top Gun five years ago and won the trophy?"

Ice struggles out of his stupor and manages to keep his voice even. "Yes, sir."

"Then you must have met Lieutenant Commander Mitchell before."

The following few things all happen in a blur. Carlson stands aside, revealing a short brunette behind him. The said brunette reverts his eyes sharply and makes an awkwardly failed attempt to run away, almost dropping his glass. He puts the glass on a nearby table, squares his shoulders, and turns to face Ice. The emerald eyes are shining brightly in the light like a long-lost dream.

"Commander."

Ice forgets how to breathe. 

Two years. It has been two years since those eyes studied him like that, and two years since he heard the voice. The air around him turns to solid metal and squeezes his body and heart, leaving no place to survive. He suddenly feels he is going to throw up.

"Lieutenant Commander." The words are spoken automatically, like a machine on the verge of breaking down.

Maverick looks exactly the same, with blazing eyes and a rebellious stance, his lips always on the way to forming a smirk. No, stop thinking about his lips. He is in a black suit that wraps around his body perfectly. And his body is a no-no either.

"You two know each other?"

He is staring, Ice realizes distantly, but he can't bring himself to care.

Let's eat out tonight, Ice, I know a nice restaurant; their soft-boiled eggs are perfect, exactly the way you like…

Can I, can I kiss you, Ice? I've always wanted to do that…

Ice, need you, need you, please… 

Let go, Ice, let go, I've got you, I am here, let go for me… That's it, good boy, my darling… 

Mine, mine, you are mine, Ice, mine forever…

"Commander?"

Ice snaps back to reality.

"Yes, sir, we know each other." He answers hoarsely.

————————

"Ice?"

Ice tenses at the sound of the door opening and refuses to look in the mirror. Leave it to Mitchell to follow him to the fucking bathroom at a Navy party.

Ice hears the door lock behind him. He grips the tub basin so tightly that his knuckles turn white. In the last five minutes, Ice has washed his face with freezing water several times, but he can still feel the gaze lingering on his skin. The gaze that is burning on the back of his neck now. 

"So you are into red wine now?"

Ice turns on the faucet to unnecessarily wash his hands and realizes they are trembling slightly. He deliberately avoids the question as well as the pair of eyes.

"Ice." 

Ice, Tom, yes, just like that, fuck, yes, please, please please please — "People change, Maverick." That comes out more bitter and harsh than he originally intended. Ice stares at the paper handkerchief in his hand, glances at the mirror from the corner of his eyes, and vaguely sees Maverick flinching. He winces to himself - they are really not good at this.

After wiping his hands scrupulously, Ice decides that they can't stay like this forever and that it is better to get it over with. So he raises his head and finds Maverick already looking back at him intensely in the mirror. His arms are crossed in front of the chest, a perfect posture of confidence and nonchalance, but Ice knows him too well to ignore the tightness in his shoulders.

"How much?"

Ice frowns. "What?"

"How much have you changed?"

A thousand thoughts run through his head, but Ice settles with a lame "more than you think." He tries to shrug but finds himself too stiff to do that. Maverick's jaw is working, a telling sign that he is worrying his inner lips because he is either nervous and anxious or setting his mind to do something stupid and dangerous. Or both.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No, Ice. I think you haven't changed, not a little bit."

A familiar rush of irritation blinds him for a second, and Ice says between clenched teeth, "And who the fuck do you think you are to assume…" His angry words are brought to a halt by a pair of strong arms around his waist.

Maverick is holding him from behind. Clinging and clasping for dear life, more accurately, his right hand gripping the left wrist in front of Ice's stomach like he is afraid Ice will break away. "Ice." His call sign sounds choked, and Ice realizes suddenly that the shorter man is shaking as a leaf. He can almost feel Maverick's warmth soaking his back. 

"Ice."

The blonde closes his eyes.

It's so strange that after two years, he almost forgot why they broke up in the first place. Maybe it started with some stupid and trivial argument - he didn't remember who initiated that - and then evolved into a full-on row. Insults were delivered unnecessarily, and misunderstandings were deepened. Then both believed that the other was accusing this relationship of being detrimental and was regretting it. A door was slammed, and "Bye" was said in not-good ways. They were both too proud and scared to reconcile, as it turned out, until now.

It takes him two minutes to register that Mav is talking. "... ain't care now, Ice, I don't give it a fucking damn. I don't care what they think; I just miss you so much."

So Ice takes Mav's right hand and left wrist into his hands. He hears Mav suck in a breath, because of the touch, probably, or the belief that Ice is going to break free and punch him in the face. But Ice is tired and cold, and Mav is warm. And maybe, as the brunette points out, he hasn't changed a bit. 

He doesn't turn around, just gently stroking the marks on Maverick's wrist that were left because the shorter pilot was digging himself too hard. Maverick's pulse feels solid and intimate, like a long-lost piece to the puzzle that is Ice's life.

"Your fingernails are too long." Ice hears himself saying. "You are gonna hurt yourself."

[calkale]

character ask game!!! number 8 for mav... or if you don't want to be evil and start hashtag drama then number 7 for mav.. or both...

This is huge‼️ we’re doing both i need drama in my life

8. Whats something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

okay theres so fucking much actually 💀💀 i’ve spoken about him being mischaracterized before but idk if ive ever been specific but my biggest thing is how a lot people just make his only personality traits being bi and a bottom. i liked the top gun fandom at first cause its rare that you find fandom people who don’t hyperfocus on a characters sexuality and i really liked that, i think he’s a super complex character and his bisexuality (not me acting like its canon) adds to that but he definitely does not think its a huge part of him that defines him. This comes a lot from my relationship with being bi cause it’s just a thing that i am and i like a lot of things that don’t really overlap? with it and i think he’s the same way. like for example i don’t think he’s ever been to pride and i don’t think he has any desire to go, i don’t think he interacts with the community at all and in a world where him and ice are married i don’t think they show a lot of PDA (maybe a little as a treat and i do think they’re snuggly in their own home but not A LOT), and he is accepting but he doesn’t get a lot of stuff and doesn’t really care to either because he has other interests 💀 he’d much rather talk about aviation and he’s super fucking smart because he’s a FUCKING TEST PILOT so he went to school for that!! He knows his shit!! He's so much smarter than people make him seem and i do think he's more book smart than talking-smart but he still knows his shit!!! I also don't think i’m the right person to talk on this and i have no problem with people doing it its just my opinion but i don't think he has adhd or autism or anything and if he does its pretty minor or not anything that impacts his day to day life, ik a lot of people use his timing in tgm as an example of this but its just comedic movie timing i don't see it as anything more than that 💀 sorry for the rant ik you asked for it but i think im done now 🫶🫶🫶

7. Whats something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

i feel like such a hypocrite saying this after all i just said cause i like seeing him as more of a real person but… older trans mav 🥺 save me older trans mav 🥺 he is so near and dear to me even tho its like impossible but i do like that most people draw him with top surgery scars. THAT BEING SAID i also hate when people make it his whole personality cause again its just a thing that he is and i don’t think he shares it a lot, he is comfortable with it especially at his older age but he just simply doesn’t care he just wants to live

[maverick-liu]

MAVERICK LIU

Full Name: Maverick Liu Nicknames: Mav Pronouns and Gender: He/Him, Cis Male Age and Birthday: 28 years old, April 11th Birthplace: Oakland, California Sexuality: Heterosexual Occupation: Personal Assistant Education: Bachelor’s in Film & Television Residence: Ocean Crest Apartments Time in Aurora Bay: 20 years (parents moved there when he was 7) Face claim: Derek Luh

tw mild bullying mention

HISTORY —

It was a cold spring day on April 11th, the day Maverick was ushered into the world and into the arms of his loving parents. He eventually became an older sibling to one, a role he grew to be quite comfortable in, for the most part.

He was a curious child who loved exploring, much like his parents raised him to do. He savored every moment he got to spend out there, rain or shine, green grass or dust storms. He was the child always begging for just five more minutes in some park or museum or new place. He also was friendly to a fault, saying 'hello' to every child, teenager, and adult that walked by him. It just made his mother hold onto his hand a little tighter.

School wasn't where Mav tended to shine, though. He struggled for many of his years in school, never really making more than a B or a C grade even with the help of the tutors his parents got for him. He simply wasn't cut out for the academic world. It led to some bullying which led to the decision to homeschool him for a few years.

Even when his parents decided to move from Oakland to Aurora Bay (Aurora Bay Drive), they decided to keep homeschooling Maverick, until his ninth grade year when they figured it would be better for him to expend his energy with his peers.

Mav's grades didn't improve much as he got older, either, though he did discover one thing he was quite talented at: creative writing. He could write stories and scripts like nobody's business.

He was just as friendly as ever entering public school again at the age of fourteen, even if there still was a bit of a struggle maintaining friendships. Mav made the most of it, got into volunteering in the HR office.

After high school, Maverick went off to study film and television and earned his bachelor's degree, and that was where he learned the importance of networking. He began building his resume and gaining experience as a set PA for various sets.

It'd been hard to land any really big projects being more than a three hour drive to Los Angeles, but he still worked hard. He talked to people, treated his job with the utmost professionalism.

Mav's parents never pressured him to move out, but by the age of twenty three he figured he should look into his own place. Ocean Crest was the cheapest option, and he's been there for four years.

Sometime in the last year or so, Mav got a gig at a photoshoot set. It's off the usual of commercials and film, but experience is experience. So, he went, and there he'd met the personal assistant of Bradley Banner.

This built a connection that put him in a position for an opportunity to end the inconsistent work he was currently doing. And that's about what he's up to now, from 2022 to 2023 he worked alongside Bradley Banner's last PA to gain his footing in this very new position. Officially, it's been six months on his own after working alongside Bradley Banner's previous PA.

TRAITS.

+ Adventurous, motivated

+/- Bold, competitive

- Opinionated, capricious

HEADCANONS.

⊹ When at Aurora Bay High, Mav dressed as the school mascot for football games and pep rallies.

⊹ He has an alcohol intolerance. Found out at a party, when it triggered an asthma attack (mild form so it was odd) that sent him to the ER in a panic. So, he doesn’t drink, but he has no issue partaking in other substances within moderation.

⊹ Has been to Coachella every year since 2017 — his parents hook him up with VIP tickets through that few connections.

⊹ Mav worked at Driftwood when he was a teenager, and up until he got his first set PA gig. he did technically abandon the job without much of a notice.

⊹ He is vegan. Really tries not to talk about it and be the sort that the joke is about. 'How do you know someone's vegan? Don't worry, they'll tell you. Again. And again, and again'.

⊹ He’s afraid of thunder and lightning storms. It’s not as bad as when he was a kid, but hearing the wind and the ocean kick up during a storm does get his heart racing.

⊹ He used to make money in his young twenties by providing himself as a model for life drawing courses.

⊹ Mav did play an instrument in high school, the clarinet. He was just really bad at it, which is why he was urged to be the mascot at games.

CONNECTIONS.

Mav has a certain charm that can make you feel seen and heard even if you just met, and then you might never hear from him again. He doesn't intend to do that, he just likes making conversation and sharing stories with strangers. He can also sometimes take charge of conversations and talk over you, but lose interest if you talk about something that doesn't hold his attention. He can use friends, old and new, any high school rivals or enemies, past romances.

Current serious romantic connections are off the table, he's busy with his job. Very busy.

♡ @bradley-banner - mav works for bradley. in a one off chance of meeting her current pa at the time, it paved a road of possibility to gaining the position himself. despite having worked alongside them for a stretch of time, he is still finding his footing. it's a lot, but boy, is he willing to work his ass off. he remains ever diligent with each and every task she gives him. (not in game but canon) CURRENTLY NO LONGER EMPLOYED

♡ @firefighterrojas - at some point someone has to stand up to the bullies, and in mav's case, angel stepped up to bat. something there then clicked to make mav inseparable from his side - had angel ever wanted to shake him, it would've been a hell of a fight. fortunately for both, it'd been a friendship made to last.

♡ @atticus-cortes - his roommate at ocean crest apartments. maverick has gotten close to atticus, even with how often they just miss each other in their apartment.

♡ @thelizaxlevin - tba

♡ @thegillyxliang - tba

♡ @solaadisa - tba

♡ @noralevin - tba

♡ @astridlius - tba

LINKS.

⊹ pinterest.

⊹ inspo.

⊹ soundtrack.

⊹ personal playlist.

@aurorabayaesthetic

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: ashley tisdale

full name: Christine Arias

nickname(s) / goes by: Chrissy

pronouns & gender: she/her ; cis woman

sexuality: straight

birth date: April 03, 1985

birth place: Merrock, Maine

arrival to merrock: local

housing: countryside

occupation: sales clerk at jack in the box

work place:  jack in the box

family: Chad and Lisa Arias; older brother Maverick, niece who lives with her, Giselle ( born 2017)  and dog named Zani

relationship status: single 

PERSONALITY

Chrissy is compassionate, curious, empathetic, thoughtful but she can also be a little arrogant, self destructive, and self critical.

WRITTEN BY: Birdy (she/her), pst.

BACKGROUND / BIO

Chrissy was born in Merrock to two loving parents and being the baby of the family came with it's perks and downsides. For one thing having an older brother very close in age made for her experience in school to be one that she lived under his shadow. She was always Mav's baby sister. Although she loved being his baby sister and being known around the school grounds, she often was left wanting to be her own person. Not someone's sister and wanted to pave her own way in the world.

Her high school experience went about the same as her elementary and middle school, but now she got a chance to become her own person. Still being known she didn't let that affect her personality. She let her kind natured friendly demeanor lead when she befriended classmates. She had a brief stint in cheer but that was only for a year before she quit and moved onto to other activities. She wandered into the world of shop and felt like she could prove something to herself more than everyone else. She loved to tinker with things but it didn't give her the expected drive to pursue it further as a future job. She moved around to try different things and enjoyed what each activity showed her about herself.

After college she got a job as a florist in town and that was fun for about six months before she got the itch to move on. From there she became a secretary and tried her hand at being a construction consultant. None of those jobs lasted more than a few months each and before her twenty eighth birthday she got a job at a law firm, something new and exciting but not the right fit for her adventurous spirit. That job lasted a year and she got her major's worth in experience but something was still lacking. In between jobs she dated casually but never wanted anything serious.

Her brother being a Navy pilot doesn't bother her as much as it did before. She loves seeing him live his dream and every time she sees a plane in the sky she can't help but smile knowing her brother's out there. Before he left on his journey, her niece was placed in her care. She now takes care of Giselle and a lot of the times they can be found skipping along town befriending people and creating a little bit of chaos.

She took the job as a sales clerk at Jack in the Box for her niece. There was something that pulled her into the store on a random Sunday afternoon and after seeing the help wanted ad, she knew this was place she needed to be in. Meeting the owner made her feel more comfortable about her choice. Never worked in a toy shop but she knew that sometimes the most unexpected things happen when they aren't necessarily sought. There's the added perk of being able to bring her niece into work with her where she could watch her all day and be able to work freely. For the first time in her life she feels content in what she's doing.

[academicgangster]

what are your favorite canon ice/mav moments? :)

Ah, but there are a lot of those, anon! :D Mav and Ice are great at bringing the tension even with the quickest of exchanges, so practically every moment makes it onto the list.

(I'm about to get on a plane without my laptop, so I'll say right now that I'm probably going to remake this post with gifs in a few days. You can still reblog in the meanwhile!)

From Mav and Ice's very "that is a dominant and that is a masochist" enemies-to-lovers vibe in 1986 to their former-enemies-now-only-lovers married for years vibe in 2022, it's all golden. They have a whole arc, and I'll show you what I mean:

ACT I. SEARING SEXUAL TENSION

Searing sexual tension at their first meeting at the club ("No, you mean notorious. I'll see you later." "You can count on it.")

The Snap, obviously, with Ice telling Mav to never leave his wingman (a decent case for Mav being a few years younger, scrappier, than Ice)

Searing sexual tension in the air. ("Just a walk in the park, Kazansky." The looks on their faces are competitive, but a lot more than that. They're respectful rivals, both the kind of people who are turned on by a challenge, and it shows.)

ACT II. HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO HANDLE THE WEIGHT OF THIS

Ice trying his best to reassure Mav after Goose's death, to reach out and offer him the tiniest bit of comfort when everyone else around him (including Viper, a straight-up parent figure) is refusing to handle grief. Ice doesn't do great at this - he's also young and also, clearly, doesn't know how - but he's clearly genuinely trying, and he notably does a lot better than Charlie in the very next scene.

Mav coming back to graduate, shaking Ice's hand to congratulate him, looking genuinely happy for him and supportive of him - there's zero grudge or competitiveness here, which I really think points to the important core tenet of Mav Being A Good Boy.

ACT III. WINGMAN OUT OF TEN

Mav refusing to leave Ice, and relentlessly pursuing and shooting down the MiG that's chasing Ice.

The Wingman Hug we all know and love. The one that spawned fic upon fic of their wedding vows (guilty, lol). The one that persists all the way into the angsty, angsty present day.

And then, speaking of the present day, there's ACT IV. FORMER ENEMIES, LONGTIME LOVERS

Sugar Daddy Guardian Angel: We hear that ~mysterious forces~ are responsible for keeping Mav up in the air, where he belongs. We then pretty much immediately learn that said mysterious force is Iceman. Mav is not surprised about this. In fact, it's apparently such common knowledge that literally no one in the narrative is surprised about this. Iceman kicks off the whole plot of TGM. Those kids came home safe because Ice fought for Mav to train them.

Pictures Hanging In The Hallway (And The Fragment Of A Song): Who put those pictures in the hall at TOPGUN? Mav hasn't been back there in decades. Cyclone sure as hell isn't going to come up with that shit. I bet it was Ice who did it - and Mav's little smile at Ice's picture is the fucking cutest thing I've ever seen.

Everyone Kind Of Acknowledging They're All But Married (Sugar Daddy Guardian Angel 2.0): We hear of their bond from Cyclone and Penny; we see it in their texts. We see it at Ice's house.

There's That Picture Again, This Time In Ice's Study: Mav finally lets himself break in front of Ice, the literal only person he ever cries in front of. Ice is the only one who can truly break his defences down, get vulnerable truths out of him he would never discuss with anyone else. And Mav clearly doesn't want to bother Ice, with how sick he is, but all Ice ever had to do was ask, and Mav will give him whatever truth he wants.

Mav Giving Ice His Wings: Mav officiates Ice's funeral, and straight up gives him a piece of himself to keep for eternity. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

tl;dr I love these idiots and their love for each other right to the very fucking end.

[pollyna]

On this queer house (and I'm sorry for the running comments? annnd it got shippy lol):

Class '86:

Wolfman: gay but when the kids start using the moronsexual name he starts to identify with that because he married Hollywood, didn't he?

Hollywood: gay and he would like to say to his husband that he's the moron, not him, get it?

Sundown: bi

Chipper: bi

Slider: bi even if thought he was straight for the longest of times (did know u were that old, Ronnie)

Iceman: gay/homosexual/gay (the day he comes out to Ron he would liked to answer: and during summer the sand is hot. Something other earth breaking truth I should made aware of?)

Goose: queer (he serenades them and leaves them with a broken heart, and then Carole comes around and his brain fries once and for all)

Maverick: the bi king

Cougar: he's probably gay but he's repressed af so he says he's the most heterosexual person on this and other planets (I read too many past!cougar/iceman where he breaks iceman's heart to not be of part)

Merlin: not enough informations on him but after surviving being Mav's backset he will probably reconsider half of his life

Jester & Viper: they're tired dads™️ nothing else is required by them, that's says more than anything else.

People around the '86 class:

Carole: bi

Charlie: bi? (me🤝charlie: questioning her sexuality)

Class '22(?):

Rooster: bi (the tale wants that Bradley realised he was bi while putting milk in his cereal, at the tender age of 13, obtaining to spill milk everywhere and on his uncle Tom's uniform too)

Hangman: gay (the day he did coming out with Javy he presented himself drapped in rainbow flag because he had to make an entrance. He was fifteen and Javy was still asleep. The cuddle a lot after because Javy was still sleeping Seresin.)

Coyote: he's the tired bisexual of the group for the love of god someone should give this man a break

Phoenix: greyro bisexual (she is the dangerous thing Halo sleeps with. Who needs a knife or a gun when she is there)

Bob: aroace (his&Phe queerplatonic relationship is life. Apparently in this language is known as the ay-ay spectrum bc you can't pronounce the a someone should give bob the maracas to play as introduction when they ask him his sexuality)

Halo: aro lesbian (Phe says she kisses her in the softest and more determined way someone has ever kissed her)

Omaha: biromantic asexual (flying as backset with Halo give him time to talk about shit he isn't really comfortable talking with everybody around)

Payback: gay (when he was five he asked his mom if he could fall in love with a plane because they were absolutely the best thing ever. Now he thinks the same everytime he looks at Mickey)

Fanboy: pan (his granma ironed the the flag for his first pride because don't you dare going around with that thing all wrinkled)

Harvard: greysexual homoromantic (his bio on Instagram says, Harvard graduate, medical doctor, Naval aviator, my other half snors)

Yale: gay (he's a big fan of ds9 and most of his photos have a quote of the tvshow expect from when he postes about Harvard, than is poetry. It's nauseating, the entire squad hates and loves it.)

Fritz: raging bi with a little application for older people that everybody in the NAVY knows about (see his crush on Admiral Kazansky)

People around the '22 class:

Cyclone: he's bi but he won't let anyone knows because he's not weak

Hondo: pan (his wife made him a patch that he wears for all June and it has the dagger squad insigna in but it isn't in black and white but in blue, pink and yellow)

Warlock: queer (he says the term fits quiet well with him and honest to God Navy is already hard enough without him having to question his own label. His cat is the most affectionate creature this planet has ever saw and sometimes he takes her to work because it's a good antistress and leaves Cyclone and his problems out of his door)

Penny: bi™️ (she meets Charlie, at someone point along the line, and they have a sort of rebound night because of Maverick but it stops being about Maverick 0.01 second after they kiss.)

[derpinathebrave]

Goin' To The Chapel Part 1 - IceMav

READ ON AO3

So, uh, @pollyna gave me brainworms like 2 weeks ago. And I wrote And We'll Never Be Lonely Anymore. And then @topgunruinedme suggested a Maverick and Goose perspective and I could not pass up the opportunity for the chaos that is Pete Maverick Mitchell. And then I wrote 15500 words. I regret nothing.

I've split this into 2 parts because I feel 15k is a little much.

SUMMARY: Mav and Goose decide they need a Vegas weekend between saving Cougar, sighting a MiG and now being sent to Top Gun. So when Mav wakes up with a wedding ring and not many memories of who exactly he married… well, it's probably fine, right?

TAGS: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Charlotte "Charlie" Blackwood, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Carole Bradshaw, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Sam "Merlin" Wells, Waking Up Married in Vegas, Las Vegas Wedding, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, drunk wedding, we got 99 problems but homophobia aint one, Angst with a Happy Ending, pete maverick mitchell is lonely, Toxic Relationship, brief charlie and mav toxicity, Dead Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Grief/Mourning, Mentions of Sexual Acts, No DADT, No Homophobia, no beta we die like goose

WORDS: 15,575

PART1 - PART2

-----------

1.

He wasn’t sure if it was the dead ache in his right arm or the noisy crackle of a camera shutter, but Maverick groaned into consciousness. His eyes were sticky, taking a few tries to open. Once they were open it took him a few tries to work out where he was. 

Beige-brown tiles pressed into his cheek and brow-bone. He could see two bare feet standing in a doorway. Mav lifted his eyes to find Goose grinning at a fresh Polaroid in his hand. 

“Hey, Goose,” Maverick croaked.

“Yes?” Goose sounded exceptionally pleased with himself as he looked down at his pilot. 

“Watch the birdie,” Mav said, bending his half-dead right arm and giving Goose the finger. 

Nick laughed, the noise bouncing around the bathroom and Mav’s skull. He simply snapped a second photo, the flash stinging Maverick’s eyes. 

“This one’s a keeper, Mav,” Goose said with mirth, “I can feel it.”

Maverick grinned back and rolled to settle more comfortably on the bathroom floor. As he stared at the slightly mouldy ceiling, he took stock of himself.

The right arm was buzzing from being trapped beneath him as he slept. He was only wearing his underwear and dogtags. His stomach was beginning to bubble and the heaviness of his head felt as though he was being dragged into the floor. 

“I see you still had a good time without me,” Goose said, leaning on the doorframe. 

Pete grinned. “I went dancing.”

A shrewd look came over Goose and he waved a hand in a “come on” motion.

Mav tried. He focused back on the night, dredging through fuzzy blackness for a memory. 

There was dancing; club lights and loud music. There was laughter, so much laughter he wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a fake memory because only Goose and Carole made him laugh like that. And lastly, there was a rather explicit memory of Mav kneeling on a bathroom floor in front of someone, their hands gripping his hair. 

“The mission was a success,” Mav smirked. 

He couldn’t seem to find the face of his bathroom encounter in the memory but it didn’t particularly concern him. This wasn’t the first time and if there was anywhere you could get away with a one-time thing it was Las Vegas. 

“I’m happy for you.” Goose rolled his eyes. 

Pete laughed. The motion set the bubbling in his stomach to a boil and he scrabbled up and to the toilet to heave. 

When he was finished he climbed to his feet, already feeling better for it.

“Don’t be jealous, honey,” Pete teased Goose, “I always come home to you.”

Goose snorted and walked away. 

“Did you and Carole have a good call?” Mav called before jamming his toothbrush in his mouth and scrubbing furiously. 

Goose appeared in the mirror, leaning back through the doorway and flashing an OK handsign with a wink. Mav grinned, fondness filling him at the satisfied look in his brother’s eyes.

He had let Nick bail early and head back to the room alone because it was the first time he and Carole had gotten privacy since they deployed. Pete had assured Nick that he was a big boy and could find enough trouble to get into on his own. 

“Are you just about done in there?” Goose said from the other room. “We need to get on the road if you want to make it to Miramar before dark.”

“Let me vomit one more time and I’ll be good to go,” Mav joked. 

As they packed, Pete dragged on the jeans he had been wearing the night before and a fresh shirt. He was searching for a missing sock when Goose clapped his hands and ordered him to get moving. 

The sock was beneath the bathroom counter and with it and his boots on, Pete did a last sweep of the room. As he tucked his wallet into his back pocket he found a folded piece of paper there. 

“Mav! C’mon! Let’s go!” Goose shouted, already outside at the truck waiting. 

With a shrug, Mav shoved the paper deep into his bag.

The heaviness in his head redoubled as he stepped into the sunny parking-lot. Mav hissed and pushed his aviators higher on his nose in a vain attempt to black out the sun completely.

“I’ll drive the first half,” Goose said, voice touched with affectionate exasperation. 

“You’re the best man I have ever met, you know that?” Mav replied, only half joking. 

“Get in the truck.”

It took approximately three blocks before Maverick shouted for Goose to pull over. With the contents of his stomach well and truly gone, he climbed back into the vehicle and promptly fell asleep once more. 

===

He woke to the sun beaming into his face. He felt like a dried husk. His mouth tasted horrendous. 

“It lives!” Goose said, teasing.

“I feel like death,” Mav rasped back. 

“We’ll stop at the next gas station and get you something to drink that isn’t beer or tequila,” Goose said, leaving no room for argument. 

“Thanks, dear,” Pete mumbled. 

===

With two bottles of water in him, and a biscuit with gravy that Goose had thrust upon him with a mothering look, Maverick felt human again. His head still twanged uncomfortably but his stomach had finally settled. 

“It’s my turn to drive,” he announced and held his hand out for Goose’s keys. 

“Now that your blood alcohol level is back in single digits, yes, you may drive.” Goose tossed the keys, smirking at him. 

Mav rolled his eyes and climbed into the truck.

It took him a second to get his bearings; adjusting the seat and mirrors. It felt a little odd to be in the drivers seat. He flew a fighter jet way more often than he drove a car. 

“Please treat my Jimmy with more respect than an F14, Mav,” Goose said, voice plaintive. 

“I’m excellent at driving,” Mav replied blithely, “it’s just been a minute.”

As he reached down to shift into first gear, he stilled, blinked, and then frowned at his hand.

“Push the stick left and up, that’s first,” Goose said, voice slow as though Mav was stupid. 

“How long have I been wearing a ring?” Maverick replied, unable to say anything else.

“What? Oh my God!” Goose gave a snorting honk of a laugh. “Mav, you didn’t!”

Pete’s brow scrunched as he fought to remember the night again. Nothing new came to him. 

“I don’t remember,” he said, voice mild. 

Their eyes met and they collapsed into laughter.

“You got Vegas married,” Goose said between laughs and gasps. “Oh, I cannot wait to tell Carole about this.”

“Oh, thank you, Goose, that’s very helpful,” Mav tried to sound annoyed but couldn’t stop laughing enough for it to stick. 

“Our family is growing, Mav,” Goose said, tone sugary sweet. “I can’t wait to meet your new… wife? Husband…?”

“Me too.”

They burst into raucous laughter once more, gripping the dash as they struggled to breathe.

Wiping the tears from his eyes and gasping for breath, Mav finally put the truck into gear and set off. 

They drove in relative silence, the pair of them giving a quiet chuckle now and then. 

“Husband, I think, by the way.” He paused. “It’s probably fine, right?” Mav asked after about five minutes. 

“Waking up married in Vegas?” Goose said. “Sure, Mav.” His tone telegraphing that it was decidedly not fine.

“Well, what can I do about it now?” Mav scoffed to hide his growing uncertainty. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell didn’t do uncertainty.

Goose was silent, apparently stumped. After a long moment he sighed and shrugged.

“Well, nothing I guess,” Goose admitted. “You should have gotten a marriage certificate but I guess who ever you married has it. Then you’d know who you married, and how to ask them for a divorce.” He gave another amused snort before realising that Maverick was conspicuously silent. “You do want a divorce, right Mav?”

Maverick gave a toothy grin in response; partly because it was in his nature to be a provocative shit and partly because maybe he didn’t want to be divorced at twenty-five. Maybe it was destiny, or some crap. Maybe the idea of willfully losing a potential family member made him physically ill to think about. 

“Jesus Christ,” Goose muttered and turned to stare out the window.

“Relax, Nick, I’ll get a divorce. Just, not when I’m this hungover,” Pete said, ignoring the feeling that he was lying. Whether it was to himself or Goose only time would tell.

“And when we know who you married,” Goose muttered, this time in a far more amiable tone.

They both chuckled.

===

Maverick collected his motorcycle from long-term parking and promised to meet Goose at the base. Before he stepped astride the bike, he paused to stare at the ring he hadn’t bothered to take off yet. Alone in the parking structure, he found he was reluctant to do so.

He sighed and pulled it off, slipping the wedding band deep into his jeans pocket. He couldn’t exactly wear it to the base, and Goose would ream him out for real if he saw it still on. 

As he rode, the whole thing turned slow circles in his mind. He was well aware he didn’t have exactly normal or regular responses to relationships. Losing both parents and being passed around like a potted plant by the State tended to leave a mark. 

He loved Goose, Carole and Bradley fiercely. Loved that they never made him feel like an object or a temporary annoyance, but like a real part of their little family. They were where he spent his holidays and shore-leave. He had watched Bradley grow from a bump in Carole’s belly to a walking, talking, singing kid. 

But Maverick would be lying if he said he didn’t envy them as well. He craved someone to look at him the way Carole looked at Nick, the way she cried and threw her arms around him with abandon. He wanted to know a love so deep it caused him physical pain to leave the other person, the same way he saw Goose pine their first days back on a carrier as though he was going through withdrawals. 

The idea of a divorce was repulsive to him. He mentally shied away from the idea. If he married someone he wanted it to be forever. He needed it to be. He had been holding out hope that at least one tie in his life would be permanent. 

The tie to his parents had frayed and broken the moment his father was KIA. The foster system treated him as though any lifeline he laid down was a target to be cut. Goose was the first semi-permanent thing he’d found. 

Maybe it was childish but he wanted to believe if he’d married someone they’d felt permanent too. He wanted to believe that maybe through the haze of tequila that person had really been the one that Pete had been searching for.

===

2.

His skin was still prickling, pulse spiking with every roll of the memory through his mind. Maverick was dressing to go to the O-Club with Goose but his brain was stuck in the briefing room. That blond guy, blue eyes like a glacier, staring at him. Brazenly staring too. It was so like something Maverick would do that it almost threw him for a loop. It had definitely stuck under his skin, as little as he wanted to admit it. He was still playing the memory back hours later. 

What he couldn’t work out was why the guy made his skin prickle like this. Maverick knew he was a good pilot, a damn good one actually, so why did he feel nervous about the cocky look from that guy? Why did he tingle with something close to nerves?

He pulled his white shoes on and checked his hair in the mirror. This was going to be the best five weeks ever. 

Sure, Goose had given him a meaningful look about the divorce thing this morning and Pete had nodded along about it. But now he was here, it didn’t feel like it mattered at all. There was something much more important than a silly little wedding ring in his desk drawer; being the best and wiping the cocky smile off that blond asshole’s face.

===

The O-Club was packed with bodies. It only served to gear Maverick’s excitement up. They made a quick sweep through the crowd before stopping at the bar.  

He found the same blond from the briefing. He was dressed in his whites as well, and wearing his sunglasses inside like an asshole. 

“You wanna know who the best is?” Goose said, obviously following Maverick’s gaze. “That’s him. Iceman.”

Whatever else he said Maverick wasn’t entirely listening, he was caught up in watching the way Iceman brushed off the woman trying to speak to him in favour of following his RIO. He was clearly rude to everyone, as if Maverick needed any more reasons to dislike him.

Maverick turned away, searching the room again. When he turned back, Goose had stopped the RIO, calling him Slider and poking fun at him. And then the blond asshole was right there. 

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. He was unreasonably gorgeous from close up. Maverick couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. The crunch of peanuts between the other man’s teeth was intensely off-putting as they traded barbs. By the time Iceman and Slider had walked away, Pete felt like he had just gone through another dogfight. 

“They were abused children,” Goose said tactlessly but Maverick let it roll off his shoulders as he tried to settle himself back into excitement rather than pure aggressive adrenaline. 

“We’re gonna have fun!” Mav smiled, waving away the look of terror in Goose’s eyes as he realised what he had said. 

“OK, Mav, the bet is twenty dollars,” Goose began after a moment to let the awkwardness pass. “You must have carnal knowledge, of a lady this time, on the premises.” 

Maverick rolled his eyes but began scanning the room anyway. He spotted a woman that looked like fun. Her hair a soft looking blond and the red lips promising at least a little adventurousness. 

Marriage-schmarriage, a bet was a bet and Mav could always use an extra twenty. 

===

3.

He might have been able to let the dent in his pride go if Charlie hadn’t ended up in their first briefing, all but laughing at him and Goose. To make it worse, her facts were wrong. 

In hindsight, something Maverick rarely bothered to indulge in, he was probably a little bit more offensive than he needed to be. Both in his pursuit of her the night before, and in the briefing about MiGs. 

He blamed Iceman. 

The bastard had gotten him all riled up in the O-Club and Maverick had been looking for an outlet to do something stupid. And again in briefing, his unsubtle call of “bullshit” spurring Mav on until he found himself being more impertinent than charmingly cheeky. 

As if that wasn’t enough, Iceman decided to corner him and question him in the most infuriating way on the MiG and Cougar. Standing over him and poking at Maverick’s choices in the encounter. He could feel his pulse jumping in his temple and knew in that moment that Tom Kazansky was as close to a nemesis as he was ever going to get. 

Maverick wasn’t stupid enough to blame Iceman for his dumb choices while flying though. They were all his own. Not that he really saw them as bad choices. It probably hadn’t been strictly necessary to chase Jester below the hard deck for the shot. And Maverick realised, as he stood outside Jester’s office and listened to the shouts of the Air Boss through the wall, buzzing the tower on their first day was a joke apparently no one else found funny. 

Including Goose.

===

Mav sat alone in a lounge, working his way though his daily tactic tasks and reflecting on the day. The last straw had been Iceman’s assertion that Maverick was unsafe in the air. In front of the entire class in the locker room, Kazansky had announced that he was everyone’s problem. 

Pete hadn’t wanted to punch someone that bad since he was a teenager. It had taken actual physical work for him to step back and walk away. Only having Goose with him had kept his head on his shoulders, and Iceman’s teeth in his stupid, big mouth. 

He couldn’t stop hearing it. The words rattling and echoing around and around. It was why he knew he wouldn’t sleep. 

“God! Why do you always have to be such a problem, Peter?” The harsh tone of his third foster mother cut through him. 

“There’s something wrong with that boy, he has problems.” This one a teacher at the middle school he attended.

“You’re everyone’s problem.” Iceman again. 

The door opened and Mav started slightly, finally drawn out of the cyclic memories. He looked up to find Goose watching him. 

“Still up?” Goose said, tone gentle. 

They had known one another long enough that Goose knew something Iceman said had crossed a line that day. He knew that Maverick had come very close to risking his career by punching a fellow officer. 

“Yeah,” Mav said. 

They looked at each other across the room. Goose eventually sighing and coming to sit by Mav. 

“I don’t care about wining the trophy anymore, Mav,” Goose said, voice almost apologetic. “I just want to graduate. I have a family to think about.”

The words needled his already tender heart but Maverick nodded in agreement. He owed it to Goose to shut up and listen despite feeling so close to losing it. 

“You’re all the family I got,” Mav said. “I won’t let you down, Goose.”

Nick’s smile was morose but he nodded back. After a beat, his face brightened a little.

“Well,” he said, tone wheedling, “that’s not technically true anymore.”

Maverick frowned before the realisation hit him and he snorted. “I don’t think a missing husband counts as family.” He shook his head with a breath of laughter. 

“It might,” Goose shrugged. His face changed once more, eyes turning serious. “Ice was out of line today.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Maverick said, jaw clenching as the memories rattled through once more.

“You’re not a problem, Mav,” Goose said, voice soft. “You’re a damn good pilot and we’re here to learn. Learning comes with fuck ups.”

Mav stayed silent. He didn’t have an answer but the battered feeling of his heart seemed less already. 

“Let’s go to bed. We’ll get ‘em tomorrow.” Goose stood and stretched. Without waiting for an answer he scooped the paperwork out of Mav’s hands and made for the door. 

With no choice but to follow, Mav stood, flicked the lamp off, and headed for his own quarters. 

===

4.

The breath punched out of his chest as he dove to get underneath the volleyball. Maverick grunted as they lost the point anyway. He swiftly jumped back his feet, his jeans scratching and full of sand. Perhaps trying to fit a volleyball game in before going to see Charlie wasn’t his greatest thought, but he couldn’t back down from a chance to beat Iceman at anything.

Despite the far-too-competitive feeling and the constant sledging about his height from the other aviators on the sidelines, Mav found himself having fun. He couldn’t remember the last time he just fucked around and played a game like this. Sure he had stress-relief on shore-leave but it was mostly drinking, visiting Carole and Bradley or touring on his bike. As much as he had always tried to be a loner as a kid, he loved being around people. He had a flair for being the centre of attention and soaked it up. 

It was why he had a date that evening. He couldn’t resist making another pass at Charlie just to bask in the attention she would give him. That, and his pride was still a little wounded. He hadn’t expected her to actually agree. It had been the cheesiest line he could think of too, and it had actually worked?

He couldn’t exactly explain that to her, especially with Slider watching like a hawk from the next desk over. So now he had a date when all he really felt like doing was playing volleyball and watching Kazansky get all hot and bothered over a game.

They were all getting hot and bothered really. The California heat was brutal, the humidity suffocating. Maverick could feel his dogtags sticking to his back, he would have the gnarliest tan spot there later. 

He clapped, fixing his glasses as he watched Iceman prepare his serve. It was a little wide, easier to pick up this time. Goose, having captained his Varsity team in high school, gave Maverick a perfect set. Mav smashed it down into the sand, the sting in his hand was deliciously satisfying, as was seeing Slider covered hip to chin in sand and glaring up at him from the deck. Mav laughed at him before turning to give Goose a high five. 

The sledging against his height slowed to a stop as they carried on. Mav might be shorter than the rest of them but he could fucking jump. Plus, he liked to think he wanted it more. He would do anything that made Tom Kazansky shut the fuck up for thirty seconds and admit other people could be good at things too. 

“That’s game!” Mav shouted as they took the last point. He checked the time and winced. He was cutting it close to late. 

“Mav, where are you going?” Goose was following him, pouting like a puppy. 

Mav groaned internally, now he really didn’t want to go. He couldn’t blow Charlie off though, not after all the ridiculous singing, bathroom propositions and the world’s cheesiest line. He glanced back to find Iceman watching him, eyes tracing Maverick’s every move. It made his pulse spike again. 

“Mav, please, for me?” Goose said, resembling Bradley when he tried to wheedle out of a bedtime. 

“I gotta go,” Mav said, his insides crunching uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I have a thing to go do.”

Without waiting to see the dejection on his brother’s face any longer, Mav turned and jogged off to his bike. Sand trickled out his pant legs as he went, still falling even as he climbed onto his bike and peeled out of the parking lot. 

===

Even though he was covered in dried sweat and sand, arrived late and internally saw Goose’s pleading face every thirty seconds, Maverick found himself having an OK time with Charlie. She really did want to talk to him about the MiG sighting which was easy enough for him. 

She peppered him with questions throughout dinner, barely stopping to eat unless waiting on him to answer between his own mouthfuls. He found it was comfortable. He could talk aeronautics and aviation all day and Charlie seemed to be enraptured in what he had to say. He found himself soaking up her attention like a sponge. 

Perhaps that was why when they sat after dinner, Charlie laying on a daybed and occasionally firing another question at him as she thought of it, he spoke about his mother. The Otis Redding song and a few glasses of wine tripped him straight into a memory. Before he could really stop himself he had told her about his dad, Duke Mitchell, and the albatross that had hung about his neck from that day. 

She listened, prompting him that someone must know what happened that day, as though he hadn’t ever heard that before. He merely nodded, sipping the wine and sighing internally. 

The conversation had shifted, Charlie smiling up at him in a nice way that made her eyes a clear blue. Maverick smiled back before standing and excusing himself to go home and shower. 

As he rode back to base something rattled in his chest. It wasn’t until he was parking and turning the engine off that he realised that it was loneliness. He had thought it was such an old friend he would know it anywhere, yet sitting there in Charlie’s house, telling her about his mum and dad and looking into her blue eyes, a fresh loneliness yawned open inside him. It had been a mistake to go but he couldn’t quite place why.

===

  Goose found him alone in the lounge once more. This time Mav was leafing through a motorcycle magazine and considering the benefits of getting a cruiser for touring. He looked up as Goose collapsed into a chair beside him. Nick’s cheeks and nose were pinked with too much sun and his moustache was freshly trimmed. He was looking at Mav with a hint of expectation in his eyes. 

“Hi honey, how was your day?” Goose said when Mav didn’t speak. 

“I’m sorry,” Pete gave a huff of exasperated laughter. “I really had something to go and do.”

“Unless it was file for divorce, I’m not accepting your apology.” Goose tilted his chin up and set his face with cheerful determination. 

Mav sighed and rolled his eyes. He set the magazine down on a table to stall for time. 

“I can’t file for divorce until I know who to serve papers to,” Maverick said, trying to keep his tone mild. 

“So you were out figuring that out, right Mav?” Goose’s eyes were boring into the side of his head. 

“Uh…” He could feel the embarrassed grin on his own face but was powerless to stop it. 

Goose closed his eyes, clearly begging for patience internally. 

“Please, please tell me you weren’t on a date,” Goose said with forced calm. 

“OK, I will not tell you that.” Maverick clicked his teeth shut. 

Goose gave a pained groan that turned into a mirthless laugh. He covered his eyes with one hand and leaned back into the lounge. After a beat he lowered the hand and turned his head to pin Mav with his eyes. 

“What?” Maverick laughed, raising his hands helplessly. “You’re the one that made the bet.”

Nick’s mouth opened, no sound came out and he promptly closed it again. Maverick laughed a little harder and shook his head. 

“You tell her you’re married?” Goose said.

“No,” Mav rolled his eyes. “We spent the whole time talking about the MiG. And even if we hadn’t I wouldn’t have told her. It’s not like its a real marriage.” He shrugged. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s real, Pete,” Nick’s tone was weary. “I’m pretty sure you need to either get a divorce or tell Charlie you’re married.”

They sat in silence, Pete turning over those two options in his head. He didn’t particularly want to do either of them and Maverick Mitchell didn’t really ever do things he didn’t want to do. 

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” Mav said. “I don’t think I’m going to see her again anyway.”

That got Goose’s attention. His head coming up from the back of the lounge and eyebrows rising. 

“Why not? You went after her like a madman.” Goose frowned. “We even did That Lovin’ Feelin’. Are you telling me I fronted up for you for no reason?”

That sent a small sting of guilt through Mav’s stomach. He grimaced. 

“I dunno,” Maverick sighed. “We talked about my dad and all she really said was that ‘somebody has to know’—”

Goose made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat.

“—which is fine. She’s a civilian, she doesn’t get it. But… I dunno. There wasn’t any…” Pete faded off, the yawning loneliness he had been ignoring opening once more in his chest. 

“Spark?” Goose supplied when it became clear Mav wasn’t going to finish his sentence. 

“Yeah. No spark. It was just plain. A little boring.” Mav grinned wide. “I actually wish I had stayed to play another game.”

“There it is!” Goose began clapping, his whole demeanour turning playful. “Thank you! I’m glad you finally admitted it, now you don’t have to look for a new RIO!”

Mav swung a loose punch at him, connecting with Goose’s ribs and making him huff. Goose laughed, punching Mav back in the shoulder lightly. Before he knew it, that loneliness had faded away once more. 

===

5.

The moment Pete “Maverick” Mitchell actually began to regret his Las Vegas marriage was sitting in the back of Goose’s Jimmy on the way to dinner with Carole and Bradley. Carole was revelling in the opportunity to laugh at him. 

“Pete, honey, if you have tracked them down by Thanksgiving you make sure to bring them along, OK?” She cackled from the front seat, her hand on Goose’s thigh as he drove.

“Thanks, Carole, I’ll do that,” he said, fondness warring with exasperation. “Do you need to tell her absolutely everything that goes on in our lives, Goose?” 

“Well, honey, when you’re married—“ Carole started.

“Forget it!” He overrode her.

They all laughed, Carole turning to flash Maverick an affectionate smile in apology. He rolled his eyes at her, smiling in reply. 

Their truce lasted all of five minutes before Carole started once more. 

“But, Pete, Nick tells me you’re also dating your teacher?” She said, eyes wicked as she glanced back at him again. 

“Did he?” Pete stared between the two of them. “Why am I part of this family again? You’re bad people.”

Goose and Carole cackled in the front. 

“Don’t be like that,” Goose said, voice a little breathless from laughing. 

“You know I tease you because I love ya so darn much, Mav,” Carole added, voice earnest now. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Mav shook his head and turned to Bradley. “You’ll take my side, wont ya bud?”

“Yes!” Bradley shouted. “I’m on Uncle Mav’s side!” 

“At least I have someone on my side,” Pete griped. 

He regretted the words immediately as Carole began her teasing once more. 

===

For all his blustering, Maverick was glad to have Carole and Bradley closer again. For one thing, it made Goose happy; his RIO was always chipper and upbeat but until he was around Carole again, Mav never noticed how much more brightness Goose could bring. He practically shone every time they were around him. 

For another, Carole and Bradley were his family too. It was almost like a holiday to fly everyday for fun, talk all day about strategy and technique and then have dinner and hang out with his family.

The four of them being together made him happier than ever. And yet there was a dark edge to the happiness in him. Maverick couldn’t help but long for his own Carole and he couldn’t help but picture the silver wedding band on his ring finger once more. 

Late one evening, after babysitting Bradley so Goose and Carole could have a decent date, Pete shut himself in his room and fished the ring out of his desk drawer. He sat in the glow of the lamp and turned it over and over in his fingers. Slowly, knowing he was being stupid but unable to stop himself, he slid the ring onto his wedding finger. 

It just felt right.

He strained to remember the night. Laughter, raucous and breathtaking, was all he could really remember with any clarity. 

He was hanging on tight to someone with broad shoulders and laughing so hard he feared he would fall in the gutter. 

“Woh, fuck,” a voice, definitely male, said through a laugh and strong hands pulled him away from the edge of the footpath.

Maverick blinked in the present. That was all he could remember. The voice was pleasantly baritone and the laughter intoxicating even now he was sober. Yes, there was definitely a reason he and his mystery man had decided a wedding had to happen that night. 

If only he could find them again. 

With a sigh he pulled the ring off his finger and tossed it back in the desk drawer. Who was he kidding, there was no Carole out there for him.

With short movements, he stripped off and climbed into the bed. He knew, in the darkness of his heart, there wasn’t anyone out there for him. He wasn’t looking for his husband because when he found him, there was bound to be nothing but disappointment. Better to be ignorant than broken-hearted. 

===

Maverick stared at the ceiling of Charlie’s apartment. The soft rush of the tide outside and of Charlie’s breath against his shoulder should have been peaceful, but Maverick found he simply couldn’t relax. A gnawing doubt was eating at his stomach. 

He knew he shouldn’t be there. She was an instructor and this was definitely against the rules. He almost scoffed, catching himself before the noise slipped out. As if he cared about the rules. No, the real reason he shouldn’t be here was because this clearly meant more to Charlie than him. 

Mav had asked her if she always got what she wanted and she had rather easily admitted she did. So here he was, right where she wanted him apparently. He replayed the afternoon slowly, wondering where the moment to say “Stop” was.

The ruthless assessment of his manoeuvre was irritating as best. This civilian who had no idea of what his job was actually like, decided that her numbers and facts were always the way to go. She had never flown, never had to make a decision on a hair-trigger, never had real lives resting on her shoulders and every choice. It pissed him off. Even with a voice mumbling in his ear from behind that it was a gutsy move, Maverick still found a burning resentment embering in his chest. 

So he had left, hadn’t let her say more of that bullshit facts and logic crap to him. And she had chased him like a maniac through traffic. He pulled over before she killed herself or someone else and endured whatever further bullshit she needed to get out. 

“The truth is I’ve fallen for you.” 

He had been shocked. Then incredulous. Then the burning anger hadn’t felt so much like anger. 

Mav knew that was probably the Stop moment. But at the time he just wanted someone to want him. He was standing there, looking at a beautiful woman tell him that she wanted him and he wanted to be wanted so bad. 

Now, laying in the darkness, the shine of being wanted had waned. He felt hollowed out, the gnawing in his gut eating away his insides until he was yawning and empty inside. 

With careful, quiet movements he slipped out of the bed. Maverick pulled his clothes back on, and sighed silently. Charlie hadn’t stirred at all. He quickly wrote a note, letting her know he had to get back to base before he was missed. He folded it into a plane and left it on her pillow. 

There, he wasn’t the asshole that left in the middle of the night with no word. He wasn’t using her and he had no plan to be used. This feeling of emptiness would fade as it always did. In the light of the day he would forget this feeling even existed. At supersonic speed in an F14 he wouldn’t even remember he felt like this.

===

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