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Iceman was jammed halfway under the Air Stream repairing the connection to the hanger electricity the first time it occurred.
“Well, don’t you look good today, baby,” Maverick said.
Ice rolled his eyes and kept working.
They’d bought the hanger a few weeks before, Ice having heard about it being up for sale when handing in some paperwork.
(“They’re just having a bitch of a time selling it,” one of the guys in admin had said, “And like, yeah, no shit. Airstrip or not, who would be crazy enough to want to buy land in the middle of the fucking Mojave?”
Ice had immediately gone to the payphone and called Maverick.)
Since then, they’d started the process of moving over all the things from the house that they wanted out there, including all of Maverick’s project vehicles and the Pepsi vending machine that Maverick and Sundown had bought…somewhere, they refused to tell him details.
Maverick had, of course, dragged his and Goose’s Bronco up there.
(They’d bought it together, when Goose found out Carole was pregnant, Goose needing something to move a kid around with and Maverick needing something to move motorcycle parts around with. Carole had just rolled her eyes at them both and stuck to driving her Volvo.
“I want to give it to Bradley someday,” Maverick had said, “Hopefully after it stops making that weird noise when it accelerates, I told Goose not to-”
Ice had stopped paying attention at this point because he really didn’t know much about cars, so whatever Goose had allegedly done to the Bronco would forever remain a mystery to him.)
“No, really, gorgeous, you’re looking the best you’ve looked all year.”
“Maverick, I am working,” Ice grumbled.
“Now, just don’t make me change that oil again for another three months and we won’t have a problem again, angel.”
“…what?”
Ice rolled himself out from under the Airstream, confused as to just what the hell his wingman was talking about.
Maverick had the hood of the Branco popped and was focused intently on her engines.
Oh, God, Ice thought, he was talking to the car, not me.
He could feel himself flushing.
“Thank god he didn’t hear me reply,” he muttered.
“What’s that?” Maverick asked, turning to face him.
“Nothing!” Ice yelped.
“…you sure? You’re really red, babe, is everything okay?”
“Yes. Fine. I am fine. Just, uh. Overheated.”
“Have a Pepsi,” Maverick suggested, “You know, catch that Pepsi spirit.”
Ice stared at him.
“Did you just fucking quote the Pepsi slogan at me?”
“It’s a good slogan!”
“And a trash beverage. Where’s the Coke I bought?”
“In the cooler in the trailer.”
“Great. I’m going to get that. In the trailer.”
“…yeah, you do that. Are you really sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Yes,” Ice said, cutting off all further conversation by entering the trailer.
“I’m never going to get caught out like that again,” he promised himself, “Even if he keeps up this weird pet names for vehicles thing, I’ll keep my cool.”
The next time it happened, they were on deployment.
Ice and Slider were assigned to a patrol with Maverick and Merlin, which had basically turned into “dick around on your private channels, boys, you’re just up there to look menacing.”
Ice had honestly begun to zone out; he wouldn’t, ordinarily, but it was Maverick up there with him, and Slider in his backseat. They’d see any problem coming before he ever would, even at full attention.
“-and you’d never let me down, would you, angel?” Maverick said.
It sent a jolt of electricity through Ice.
Did he seriously just call me that? In the cockpit? With the black boxes running? Maverick, what the fuck? You’re going to get us court martialed!
“Stop talking to the planes like that with me back here, Mav, my ideal threesome is not you, me, and a goddamn F-14,” Merlin said.
Maverick just laughed.
Ice relaxed back into his seat, both relieved and offended.
Because, hey, he was selfish, and he wanted his partner to only call him angel, not the fucking plane, but he also didn’t want his partner to call him angel while they were in the air and could get found out.
“You alright there, Tommy?” Slider asked on their personal coms.
“Yes,” Ice grumbled back, “Don’t fucking call me Tommy, asshole.”
Once they were back in their bunk room on the ship, Slider pounced on him.
“Why’d you freak in the air?”
“I didn’t freak.”
“Yes, you did, Tommy. Got all locked up, don’t think I don’t know you.”
Ice rolled his eyes, shoving the other man off him.
“Fine. It’s just…stupid.”
“Tell me anyways.”
“…look, I was upset Mav called his plane ‘angel,’ okay?”
Slider started at him for a moment before he started cackling.
“You’re jealous of the plane?” he wheezed.
Ice could feel his ears turning red.
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”
“The Mighty Thomas ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, defeated in love by a plane. A plane! You’re the other woman to a plane!”
“I’m going to suffocate you in your sleep, you overstretched piece of beef jerky-”
“And I’m gonna make them write ‘best friend to the guy who played second fiddle to a fighter jet in his lover’s heart’ on my tombstone.”
“I hate you. I want a new RIO. Can I have Merlin? I’m switching you out for Merlin.”
“Great idea! I can fly with Mav, then, and tell him to call the planes all your favorite pet names.”
Ice’s eyes narrowed.
“You wouldn’t.”
Slider smiled back.
“You wanna put money on it, Tommy?”
“…no.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say, Maverick’s mistress.”
“Fuck off!”
“Come on, sweetheart, don’t do me like this,” Maverick wailed.
“What the hell did I-” Ice asked, turning away from the stove only to see a distinct lack of his partner nearby.
“He’s talking to the damn car again,” he muttered.
Bradley, who was sitting at the dining room table doing his homework, sniggered.
“Not a damn word, Bradshaw, I don’t want to hear it,” Ice said, waving the wooden spoon in his direction.
“I wasn’t going to say anything!”
“Uh-huh.”
“But, seriously, Ice, you should be used to the sweet-talking vehicles thing by now!”
“If he ran around calling the cars Bradley, you’d be confused, too.”
“Yeah, but that’s my name. Not a random term of affection!”
Ice rolled his eyes, turning back to the stove.
“Babe,” Maverick said, coming in through the door to the garage, “Sweetheart, love of my life-”
“Me or the car?”
“I didn’t promise to marry the car, Kazansky, Christ. Do you know where my ten-millimeter socket is?”
“…isn’t it in the hanger? I thought you took it up there since you lost the hanger ten-millimeter.”
Maverick thought about it for a moment before letting out a loud groan.
“I did,” he groaned.
“Auto parts store is closed,” Bradley said, “You’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow, Mav.”
Maverick came up behind Ice, hugging him and resting his head on Ice’s shoulder.
“Why is it always the ten-millimeter?” he muttered.
“It’s the most common one, Mav,” Ice replied, “Want to chop beets for me?”
“Yeah, let me wash the grease off my hands first.”
“How unfortunate. I always find motor oil to be a wonderful additive to chrain. Really helps bring out the flavor in the gefilte fish.”
“Fuck off,” Maverick said, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek before breaking away.
“PDA FINE,” Bradley yelled, pointing at the slightly overflowing cash jar.
Maverick just flipped him off.
“You know that only works on Wolf, right?” Ice replied.
“Hey, it’s worth a shot.”
“Hay is for horses, Bradley.”
“You are such an old man,” Bradley said, “I’m telling Slider you’re playing second fiddle to the Bronco now, too.”
Ice whipped around, eyes narrowed.
“You wouldn’t,” he said.
“Try me, pops.”
“…fine. What will it cost me for you to not?”
“I want my own phone in my room.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Done. I’ll go to Radio Shack tomorrow.”
“Sweet! Can I come with? I want to pick out a cool one.”
“Sure.”
“You’re the best, pops. Even if you are the mistress to Dad’s vehicle wives.”
Ice flipped off the laughing teenager.
He didn’t usually go out to China Lake for Maverick’s test flights, but this one was different.
“Mach 7 today, huh?” Maverick said, grinning at his calendar, “How’d you luck out to be married to the fastest man in history, Kazansky?”
“I don’t think luck had much to do with it, Maverick,” Ice replied, drawing out his partner’s callsign.
“You sayin’ I’m not a catch?”
“I’m saying that I had to put in effort. It wasn’t luck, it was skill and perseverance.”
Maverick grinned and kissed him on the cheek before heading back to the bedroom of the Airstream to get dressed.
“Which picture of you do you think I should take with me this time?”
Ice set down the crossword he was working on.
“What do you mean?”
Maverick poked his head out, a confused expression on his face.
“I’ve been taking a picture of you up with me in the pocket of the flight suit every time I go up with the Darkstar. Didn’t I tell you?”
Ice turned away, eyes slightly misty.
“No,” he replied, voice hoarse, “You didn’t.”
Maverick came over, jeans on but without socks or a shirt.
“I got the idea reading about George Mallory, the first guy who tried to climb Everest. He had a picture of his wife in his pocket that he was going to put on the top of the world. So I started taking up a picture of you, so I can bring you with me.”
Ice was crying, now, still not looking at Maverick. Maverick had sat in his lap, one hand on Ice’s face, the other helping to balance his weight.
“I wish I could be in the air on your wing again,” Ice whispered, “I hate it, putting your life in other people’s hands, not being there myself to help you. I know you’re not dog fighting anymore, really, but…”
“I get it.”
“And this shit is so sappy, Mitchell, what the hell?”
Maverick just laughed at him before he moved Iceman’s head so he was facing him again and kissed him.
“I did good, then,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.
“Yes, you did. Now get your fucking clothes on so we can go.”
“Your wish is my command, oh mighty admiral. Pick out a goddamn picture of yourself.”
While Maverick dressed, Ice wandered over to the wall of photographs, picking out a picture that Slider had taken of him in the early ‘90s.
They’d been on Catalina Island, at Catalina Harbor, because Bradley had read in his shipwreck book that there was the wreck of a pirate ship there and wanted to go looking for it. He and Maverick had been out in the sand at low tide, jeans rolled up to their knees, investigating the sand with impressive seriousness. Slider had taken a picture of Ice watching the pair, capturing the fondness in his eyes.
“This one,” he said to his husband when he emerged from the bedroom, “Take this one.”
Maverick smiled at the photograph, a slight sorrow in his eyes.
“Catalina Island, huh?”
“Yes.”
“That was a good day.”
Ice just nodded, knowing better than to try and talk to his husband about the Bradley Thing.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Ready to be the fastest man alive? I’m surprised you even have to ask, Kazansky. And you know what this means…”
“Going the fastest does not make you the better pilot, Maverick, they only won’t let me fly this because I took a promotion, and you know it!”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Iceman.”
“I will make you drive yourself,” Ice grumbled, grabbing his car keys anyways.
The drive into the airstrip was calm, Maverick’s feet on the dash, the radio playing on a low volume.
“You know I love you, right?” Maverick said.
“Right, because that’s exactly what I want to hear from my husband before he takes off for a record-breaking flight.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not. What’s on your mind?”
Maverick shrugged.
“Overview effect’s kinda getting me. And I just wanted to say it.”
Ice hummed in response as he turned off onto the dirt road, the gatehouse in sight.
“I love you, too,” he said, “But if you didn’t know that by now, I don’t know how much I trust you to fly this mission. Maybe I should take your place.”
“You’re such a dick,” Maverick replied, fondness in his voice.
The hanger was cool against the desert heat, the Darkstar waiting for them. Maverick immediately made his way over to begin his pre-flight inspection, while Ice made his way to the waiting engineers.
“Hondo, Simon,” he said, “How’s it looking for today?”
“Good weather for it, Admiral. We should be all clear, barring any issues with Maverick in his pre-flight,” Hondo replied.
“Well, I’ve delivered him in as good as condition as you’re getting him.”
“Hey, I ate breakfast! It was even a healthy breakfast! And a healthy dinner.”
“Of course, dear,” Ice replied, conveniently not mentioning that Maverick had gone to bed two hours past when he should have because he had been crashing 787s in his flight simulator.
He was, of course, not mentioning this only to be a polite and generous husband, and not at all because the second hour had been dedicated to Ice also trying and failing to land the 787s in order to prove himself the better pilot. These two things were absolutely unrelated.
Hondo left partway through Maverick’s inspection to get the pre-flight health screening systems ready, leaving Ice to make small talk with Simon about his Pentagon girlfriend.
“Alright!” Maverick exclaimed, “I think I’m ready to rock and roll if you are, sweetheart.”
“Yes, dear, I am exceedingly ready to sit in a room and watch some…” Ice trailed off as he turned, realizing that his husband had not, in fact, been talking to him, and was, in fact, staring up at the Darkstar with adoring eyes.
“Not a word,” Ice hissed to the giggling Simon.
“Of course not, sir.”
Not even fifteen minutes after crash landing on the deck of the carrier, still sitting on the gurney in the med bay as he was getting checked over by the medical staff, Maverick was giving him puppy dog eyes.
“Stop giving me that look,” Ice grumbled.
“I’m not giving you any look!” Maverick protested, squeezing Ice’s hand.
“Yes, you are. You want something.”
“…do they. Um. Have they decided what they’re doing with the F-14 I stole?”
“…fucking hell, Mav, are you seriously trying to get me to convince the government to give you a fucking F-14?”
“I stole it! I should get to keep it!”
Ice flung his hands in the air, staring at the ceiling.
“Why?” he said to the heavens, “Why this man?”
“I’m a delight.”
“How am I meant to get them to give me a- only you would ask for a supersonic warbird, you absolute- I can’t do this. Don’t you know what kind of day I’ve had?”
“I’m sorry! I just couldn’t let the SAMs hit Rooster.”
“I’m not upset with you. I would have done the same. But you two have thoroughly fried my nerves, and now you sit here, smiling, and ask me to get you an F-14.”
“And here I thought I made it easy for you. C’mon, you can sell them on the propaganda angle. The first American fighter ace since Vietnam, in the plane he got his last two kills in? It’d be a hit at air shows. Plus, you can tell them I’ll take a retirement from most flying and take a promotion to the brass if they let me keep it.”
“…are you suggesting I bribe the DOD into letting you keep a plane with your promise to retire?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure you’re really up for taking the promotion?”
Maverick shrugged.
“Do I want to, really? No. But I’m an old man in a young man’s game. I went out with just about the biggest bang I can. Plus, I want to see people’s faces when they see stars on my shoulders.”
“…fine. Alright. I’ll try and…get you your Tomcat. But I had better be allowed to use it if you get it operational again.”
“A chance to see the almighty Iceman in an F-14 again? I’m not turning that down.”
“Careful, honey. Someone might think you’re calling me the better pilot.”
Maverick just laughed, wincing as he jostled his ribs.
“I just chalked up two more kills today, and they were in a fourth-generation fighter against a fifth-generation fighter. I think that settles that, Kazansky.”
“Your ego is the size of a fucking B-52. Are you reminding Bradley that he’s tied with Seresin for kills now, or am I?”
“I’ll do it,” Maverick said, “I’ve got to explain the whole…pulling his papers thing, anyways.”
Ice reached out and squeezed his hand.
“You can do this, Mav,” he said.
“I know. I just…it’s going to suck.”
“It is. But we’ll have Bradley, again.”
“Yeah. We’ll have Bradley.”
Ice kissed him, squeezing his hand one more time before stepping back.
“I’ll go make a call,” he said, “Announce that you’re up for promotion…and request you get that F-14.”
“If you get me that plane, Ice, I swear to God I’ll suck your dick every night for a year.”
A strangled cry came from Bradley, who had just walked into the room.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Mav?” Bradley yelled.
“I was having a private conversation with my husband!”
“In a public space!”
Ice laughed at them, stepping away from Maverick to embrace Bradley.
“It’s good to see you, Bradley,” he said, “Thank you for bringing yourself and my husband back to me.”
Bradley hugged him back, burying his head in Ice’s shoulder for a moment, shaking slightly as he came down from his adrenaline high.
“You two talk. I’ll go…do what I must.”
SecNav laughed for five minutes when Ice told him Maverick’s request.
“Your gremlin husband wants the F-14 he stole, and I’m supposed to sign off on this because he’ll calm down if I do?” the man asked.
“I know it’s a bit of an unreasonable request, but-”
“Oh, Chester Cain is going to want my head for approving this, but I don’t see why Maverick can’t keep it. Is he really an ace now? We should do a presser about it.”
“…you’re really going to let him keep the F-14?”
“Sure. I mean, the reason we’ve kept them as locked down as we have has mostly been to keep parts smuggling down, and, well, I don’t think we have to worry about that with him. If anything, he’s going to give the smugglers more trouble by getting into the boneyard himself to get parts for the thing.”
“Please don’t give him any ideas. His mother is buried out in Arizona, and every time we go out to visit her it’s an uphill battle to get him not to try to get into the boneyard.”
SecNav laughed again.
“Well done, admiral. I’m always happy to hear about a successful mission.”
“…and the matter of the two destroyed F-18s…”
“The enemy lost at least three fifth gens, an F-14, an airbase full of other aircraft, and a nuclear facility. We can write off a couple F-18s for a mission success like that.”
“Understood,” Ice replied, trying not to sound too relieved.
“I’ll have my secretary be in touch regarding the arrangements for further press releases, promotions, and medals. I trust that you can arrange the delivery of the plane?”
“I can. Thank you, secretary.”
Three weeks later, having been thoroughly examined by DOD techs, a very damaged F-14 was delivered to the hanger.
“Uh…is he okay?” the driver asked Ice as they watched Maverick running around the plane like a maniac, exclaiming over various aspects of her airframe.
“He just likes F-14s,” Ice replied, “Thank you for driving out here. Can I get you anything to eat or drink before you head back, or would you like to use our restroom? The closest rest stop is a bit of a hike.”
“If I could use your bathroom, that’d be great, thank you, sir.”
Ice showed him into the trailer before stepping outside, looking around their lockers for his and Maverick’s old leather jackets, so they could be dressed in their old clothes for their first picture with the plane.
“You’re the third best thing that ever happened to me, angel,” Maverick said.
“The third best? What the hell are you-” Ice spun around to see his husband caressing the plane’s side.
“…and you’re talking to the plane. Again.”
Maverick continued fawning over the plane until after the delivery driver left. He then turned to look at Ice, grinning like a fool.
“I’m going to take you up in this, baby, just you wait. It’ll be you, me, and a F-14 in the sky.”
Ice raised an eyebrow.
“Really? Because you never take me up in the Mustang.”
“Well, that’s different,” Maverick protested, “I don’t trust the Mustang like I trust a Tomcat. The Mustang is much older.”
“And has one hundred percent fewer crashes.”
“As the youths say, don’t be such a hater.”
“I will forever regret letting you spend time with millennials. Also, why’d you call the plane the third best thing that ever happened to you?”
“Because it saved Bradley, saved me, and brought us back to you.”
“Sap. No, I meant the number. It’s specific.”
“Ah. That. Yeah, it is. You’re the second best, obviously.”
“Second only to Bradshaws,” Ice guessed.
Maverick nodded, seeming slightly worried about the statement. Ice just stepped closer to him, taking his hand.
“Mav, I’m never going to get upset about that. Bradley is our son, remember? And I know what Goose and Carole meant to you.”
“You’re the best. You know, I really won, back in ’86. I got you as my trophy.”
Ice’s ears were turning red again.
“Shut up, I thought you were ‘managing expectations,’” he hissed.
“…were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Cyclone?”
“No. Warlock told me.”
“Damn it.”
“You should know by now that my spy network is extensive.”
“Extensively a pain in my ass.”
Ice kissed him on the cheek.
“Get in the plane, Mav,” he said, “I’ll go dig up Goose’s polaroid, get another picture of you up there.”
The polaroid camera was easy enough to find; they usually kept it in one of the lockers. Ice checked to make sure it still had film.
“You’re going to look amazing when I’m through with you, gorgeous.”
“I already look-”
Maverick was talking to the plane again.
“Twice in a day, Kazansky?” he muttered, “You’re losing your grip.”
“You look good, sweetheart,” Maverick said.
Ice for once managed to ignore him.
Because look, he wasn’t an idiot. They were in the hanger with two planes, eight motorcycles, and two cars of Maverick’s in the vicinity. Ice was not the sweetheart in this scenario.
“…did I do something wrong, angel?”
Ice rolled his eyes, still reading his magazine.
“…alright, whatever,” Maverick said, sounding dejected.
He could hear Maverick moving around the hanger, chatting with the Daggers who were all hanging out there for the weekend.
The sofa rocked as Bradley sat down next to him.
“Why are we giving Dad the silent treatment?” Bradley asked.
Ice looked up from the magazine.
“We’re doing what now?”
“…you can’t be serious. You just ignored him and totally shut him down when he tried to hit on you!”
Ice just laughed.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bradley. He wasn’t hitting on me. There’re planes around. And cars, and motorcycles…he wouldn’t be hitting on me in these circumstances.”
Bradley stared at him.
“I can’t believe people think Maverick is the only stupid one between the two of you,” he muttered, “MAV! GET OVER HERE!”
Maverick skulked around from behind the Tomcat, visibly pouting.
“Ice ignored you because he thought you were hitting on the plane, not him.”
“Well, he was,” Ice protested.
Maverick was, however, frowning and looking confused.
“…I was definitely hitting on you, Ice.”
Ice stared at Maverick.
Maverick stared back.
“That’s weird. What’s wrong with you? Did those doctors miss something after the two crashes in a month?”
“Seriously? I hit on my husband of over thirty years and you’re going to ask me what’s wrong with me?”
“You never hit on me when there’s planes around! Or cars! Or your bikes! You’re always sweet talking them, not me. Slider’s been calling me the mistress to your plane wife since we were in our twenties.”
“Kerner’s been accusing me of cheating on you with planes? What the fuck? I don’t sweet talk them that much.”
“Sir, I don’t mean to be rude-”
“Yes, you do, Hangman, quit lying,” Bradley snapped.
“-but you definitely called your F-18 ‘babygirl’ during training last week.”
“Yes! Thank you, Seresin. See, Maverick? You do this all the time.”
Hangman gave Ice a jaunty salute before turning back to the poker game.
“It is perfectly normal to call a plane babygirl,” Maverick argued.
“I have never in my life called a plane babygirl,” Ice retorted, beginning to feel slightly ridiculous.
“Yeah, but you’re boring. Daggers, show of hands. Who here has called a plane by a term of endearment?”
Hangman raised his hand triumphantly.
He was the only one.
“You can’t use him as proof this is normal behavior, Dad,” Bradley said, “He got infected by whatever weird radioactive insect bite made you the way that you are, too.”
“I’m not sharing your bed tonight for that comment,” Hangman yelled back.
“See, Maverick? No one else thinks this is normal,” Ice said, getting puffed up with victory.
“This is hardly a reasonable sample size.”
“I am a god damn four-star admiral, Mitchell, I will poll every fighter pilot in the fucking Navy, and then I’ll poll the ones in the Marines and the Air Force, and I will prove my god damn point to you for once and for fucking all.”
“Should we be doing something about this?” Bob whispered to Phoenix.
“Nah,” she whispered back, “Bradshaw told me this is how they flirt.”
“Normal or not, I’m offended that you seem to think that I would never hit on you when there’s a vehicle around! You’re my husband!”
“Then maybe you should hit on me when there’s a vehicle around!”
“I just did, you jackass, and you thought that I was talking to the plane!”
Iceman paused and thought about this for a moment.
“…well, how was I supposed to know you were talking to me?”
“Context clues? I was looking right at you!”
“And I couldn’t see that because I was reading my magazine.”
“…yeah. Fair point.”
“Is the argument over or am I about to be a child of divorce again?” Hangman asked.
“Oh, we’re never getting divorced,” Maverick said.
“Not this shit again.”
“Shush, Bradley. Maverick is right. We can’t get divorced. Because whoever initiates the divorce loses.”
Everyone was staring at them, except for Bradley, who had his head in his hands.
“…what does that mean, sir?” Coyote asked.
“This relationship is a competition and I’m winning,” said Maverick.
“No, I’m winning. I’m the COMPACFLT and I’m married to you.”
“Are you an ace? Have you flown at Mach 10.4? No? That’s what I thought, Kazansky.”
“No, I haven’t done those things, but I did marry you, which means that I win, because you’re a catch.”
“But I both did those things and bagged the COMPACFLT.”
“This is such a weird argument, guys,” Bradley said.
“Who do you think is winning this marriage, Rooster?” Maverick demanded.
“I’m not taking a side.”
“Coward,” Ice said, “I’ll call Slider. He’ll tell us who’s winning.”
That night, Maverick set down the book he was reading and turned to Ice.
“Do I really call the vehicles pet names in front of you all the time?”
“Mav, you’ve been doing it consistently since the ‘80s. Remember back when we were setting this place up, I got ‘heatstroke’ while wiring the Airstream to the hanger?”
“…kinda?”
“I didn’t have heatstroke. I thought you were talking to me, but you were talking to the Bronco. I was embarrassed.”
“I’m sorry, angel, I didn’t realize.”
Ice just laughed, resting his head on Maverick’s shoulder.
“Don’t be sorry. I knew you did this when I asked you out. Back in ’86, you kept calling your Tomcats ‘baby.’ Especially when you were trying to lock onto that MiG on my tail.”
“…I guess I do,” Maverick said, “I’ve never really thought about it. It’s just something I do.”
“I don’t mind it, Mav. It just throws me, occasionally.”
“So, if I keep calling you and the planes these things…”
“I’ll be confused, occasionally, but I’m used to it.”
“…so, I win this one.”
“Fuck no!”
“Yes, I do. I win because you decided not to try and change me in this.”
“When, exactly, have I ever tried to change you?”
Maverick laughed, curling in closer to his husband.
“Much less often than the rest of the brass would like, I think.”
“The only trait of yours I’ve ever wanted to change since I got to know you is your allergy to wearing a goddamn helmet on your motorcycle.”
“I just like feeling the wind in my hair!”
“You can’t feel the wind in your hair if you’re dead in a coffin.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to die before you and then you’ll have me cremated and turn my ashes into a diamond and wear me everywhere so I don’t get bored. Because I’m a gem.”
“They don’t need all the ashes to make a diamond, you know.”
“Then buy a bunch of diamonds, Kazansky. Unless you’re too cheap.”
Ice rolled his eyes.
“Fine, fine. Should you die before me, I will wear you as diamonds all glammed out like some prince’s mistress.”
“And when you die, you have to have my diamonds with you when you’re buried.”
“So what’s your plan if I die first? Are you having Hondo dig me up and put you in with me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Iceman. Slider can do it. Or Bradley.”
Ice shook his head, turning off the lights.
“You’re a ridiculous menace.”
“But I’m your ridiculous menace.”
“Yes, you are. Get some sleep.”
There was peaceful silence for a few moments, but, like all peaceful moments with Maverick, it didn’t last long.
“I do promise to stop calling the vehicles ‘angel,’ Slider told me that one’s your favorite.”
“Shut up, Maverick.”
“I love you, too, angel.”