Chapter Text
Goose can already tell it's going to be a long six months
It's been over a year since Maverick and Iceman worked together to take down four MiG's that turned them into overnight celebrities, over a year since they became wingmen in every sense of the word and they embraced each other that is now immortalized in a picture that's plastered across almost every wall at Top Gun and any Naval Recruitment center you can fucking find.
It has also been over a year since Maverick started fucking pining. And the asshole still won't tell Goose anything, no matter how drunk Nick gets him on shore leave.
They're all back in Miramar, the entire squadron ironically was given their choice of station (Goose knows Viper pulled some strings, according to Mav the old fucker has a heart, it would seem.) and it's their first night out back together where all of them are not crowded in Nick's hospital room and he's wearing a stiff as fuck white plastic collar around his neck and shoulders that is impossible to unlock no matter how much he bitches. They've even managed to drag Viper and Jester out to the O-Club for the evening. It's nice to see everyone happy and uninjured, smiles looser from the alcohol swimming in their systems and the laughs louder than they should be.
Goose has a warm fuzzy feeling that's unfurling in his navel thanks to the shots Slider and Wolfman have made him choke down and he's laughing with Viper about dumb shit that Maverick's pulled since they've been away. Jester almost chokes on a beer when Ron and Nick tell the group how they've gotten their asses chewed out multiple times because of Maverick and Ice, with the younger pilot sometimes convincing his wingman to have a little fun as they whip through the air. Slider vows he's going grey and Goose swears his hairline is receding from both their pilot's bullshit.
What they don't mention however, is the absolutely besotted glances Maverick and Iceman eye at each other when their wingman's back is turned. It gets so bad that Slider pulls Goose into their bunkroom when their best friends are somewhere else on the carrier one afternoon and they have a very long conversation that ends in them both deciding to let the two idiots figure it out themselves, but they'll be there to cover for Ice and Mav if another person starts suspecting anything. It's a pretty foolproof system except for the fact that the two dumbasses still haven't gotten their shit together and it's making Goose want to tear the rest of his hair out. He whines about Maverick to Carole on the phone and through letters and Slider bitches about the situation to Wolfman and Hollywood on their weekly calls, who in turn belay the information to Chipper, Sundown, and Merlin and really, it's been nice having a support system to help each other get through this mess. For how much Nick might complain about his friends, they're all good people.
It's been twenty minutes since his best friend went to grab another drink, Iceman being away from the table too and Goose secretly hopes that they've snuck off to the bathroom together finally as he trails his eyes around the room until he locks onto the bar where Mav stands sourly drinking his cocktail looking at something else that infiltrates Goose's line of sight almost immediately.
It's Iceman. With a girl's arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as they sway back and forth on the dancefloor and Maverick's not even being subtle about hiding the venom in his gaze.
Goddamnit.
He sees Slider's left eye twitch and Nick knows that he too was looking for their wayward pilots. The man looks like he's about two seconds away from dragging them into a stall and slamming the door. Goose thinks about joining the other RIO in his plot.
"I say," Viper proclaims loudly, gathering everyone's attention in the booth. He gestures with his hand that's not holding a beverage towards the only two pilots not squeezed into the back corner of the bar. "That we lock those two fuckers in a closet and make them sort their shit out."
"You knew?!" Goose shrieks, sloshing his pina colada when he whips around to face his commanding officer. Jester cackles around his beer.
"Son, this crotchety old fucker knows and sees everything."
Goose blanches because Viper and Jester knowing could go either one or two ways: Number one, being that one or both of them decide to completely and utterly fuck up Mav and Ice's careers, and possibly even Nick's own, by reporting them with one fucking phone call to HQ. Option number two: Viper and Jester know and they don't do a damn thing about it, and possibly help them end the madness and pining.
"Bradshaw, we've been betting on how long it would take them to fuck since the first week of classes." Viper grins with a wink before downing another shot of god knows what fucking brand of tequila Slider's chosen. It seems like it's option two, which makes Nick relax in his seat a bit more and Ron pushes another shot towards his friend for some liquid courage.
"I'm with Viper's idea. I say we get the two dumbasses to admit their feelings for each other." Hollywood slurs and right now, Goose feels like he's Yente the Matchmaker from a fucked up version of Fiddler on the Roof, all he needs is the fucking scarf around his head and a basket.
"But how?" Chipper bemoans around a mouthful of peanuts, and Goose sees a glint in Slider's eye that he's known since the Academy. It's a look that has Nick putting his head in his hands at his friend's scheming.
"What if Mav and Ice each overheard a conversation a group of us were having, and we were talking about how much they love each other."
"I still don't get it." Wolfe slurs and Slider smacks the RIO upside the head which causes Chipper and Sundown to break into a fit of giggles.
"What I think Slider's trying to say, is that we split up into two groups, whenever Iceman walks by, we start talking about how Maverick is in love with him, and vice versa whenever Maverick's in the room."
"Exactly!" Slider yells and Goose winces before hitting his head up against the wood of the table with a groan. This shit is going to be the death of him, Carole's going to be without a husband and Bradley is going to be without a father.
"What do ya say Mother Goose?" Slider drunkenly throws his arm around the back of Gooses neck, and Nick spares one more glance up at the two idiots and oh how the tables have turned. Ice is now the one sulking in a corner while Mav's the one with two drunk girls hanging onto every word he says.
Jesus fucking Christ.
"If your brilliant plan goes fucking sideways Kerner, you're paying for my therapy bill."
It begins like this.
They split up into two groups, group one being Wolfman, Chipper, Merlin, Viper and Slider who are assigned to Mav, and group two being Hollywood, Sundown, Jester and Goose, who are assigned to Ice. Jester and Merlin come up with the idea to send the two pilots on small missions that put them in the path of the conversations. Goose still thinks this whole plan is insane. But he goes along with it, because he has no better idea and he's being peer pressured.
There's also the possibility that everything goes to hell in a handbasket.
They're all crowded around in a big circle in the hangar on lunch break. Hollywood brought a pack of cards and they play go-fish until the tell-tale sign of the door slams and footsteps can be heard. Sundown grins as Goose starts to speak.
Showtime.
Tom grumbles, manila folders in hand as he silently swears at Viper for making him go fetch something so fucking simple the man could've done it himself. He's nursing a small hangover from the O-Club last night and the headache throbs dully in the back of his skull a a reminder for taking one too many shots that somehow ended up in his hand. He blames Wolfman and Chipper.
He slams open the door of the hangar, overhearing some of the guys already on their lunch break. He's about to head over and say hello and possibly steal a fry from someone's plate as Goose's voice rings out in the hangar.
"I'm telling you man, Mav's in fucking love with him! Head over heels, ass over teacups level shit."
Ice pauses in his stride, almost tripping over his own feet and ducks under the wing of a plane to not be seen by the others.
What?
"Maverick? In love with Iceman? You're fucking with me Bradshaw." Hollywood retorts laughing. Tom rears his head up so quickly he whacks himself on the crown of his head and the thud of skull meeting metal is audible as it echoes. He's torn between getting the fuck out of earshot or staying, because he may or may not want to listen to what they're going to say next.
Sunny looks like he's about to explode with laughter, Hollywood is grinning like a maniac and Jester looks proud of the situation. Goose desperately wishes he could take a polaroid of this.
Everything is going surprisingly well.
Tom is possibly about to have a panic attack. He places a brief hand on his face to stop himself from hyperventilating because Jesus fucking Christ.
Maverick? In love with him? There's absolutely no fucking way. Tom shared a bunkroom with him, for chrissakes. They're obviously fucking with him.
"I thought they were just friends? Maybe you're wrong, Goose." Sundown replies around what sounds like a mouthful of food.
"Exactly!" Hollywood chimes in again, and Ice nods his head in agreement with the other pilot even though none of them can see him.
"Maybe Maverick loves him as a friend, they are wingmen after all." Jester responds and Goose scoffs. Ice peeks around the corner of the plane to see if they're all joking, but by the adamant look on Goose's face he starts to rethink.
"Do you know what he talks about when I'm alone with him? He talks about Ice's hair, his smile, his laugh, how he calls Mav out on his bullshit but compliments him in the same breath, all with fuckin' heart eyes the size of the moon."
A warm feeling spreads itself throughout Tom's chest as he softly touches his hair with a grin.
"Will he ever tell Ice he loves him?" Sundown asks and Goose shakes his head viciously.
"No, and he swears he never will. He fucking cries himself to sleep in our bunk, man. I have to check up on him most nights to make sure he's not tossing and turning."
Tom curses at himself for never noticing, for never even looking across to Maverick's bunk in the night. He's heard the shorter pilot sniffle on occasion, but he honest to God though that the man was snoring or had a cold. Now he knows that the sniffling was Maverick crying, because of him. And fuck, does that tear Ice's heart to shreds.
"Sometimes I'm scared he might quit because it's his favorite thing in the world to fly with Ice, but it hurts so badly to know that Ice doesn't love him and doesn't treasure the moments they have together like Mav does."
Ice's jaw drops at Goose's words. Maverick? Quit? He's the best damn pilot Ice has ever flown with, hell, the best in the Navy. Flying with Maverick takes the breath out of Ice's lungs because the other pilot is so goddamned beautiful in the skies, dropping snarky remarks over the comms, buzzing the tower on the occasion where Ice gets a wild hair and agrees to his wingman's antics, getting target locks on MiG's and competing with each other as to who can get the most. He remembers every single flight he's taken with Maverick, every joke and witty comeback, every smile the younger pilot makes when they plant their feet back down on the carrier. Ice remembers it all.
If Maverick left the Navy, left his calling, left his dreams because of him, Tom would never forgive himself.
Dear Reader, imagine this. As he panicked, Iceman didn't see the rolling cart with a fresh tray of paint on it near the plane he was standing under. He reached his hand out to lean on something, his hand finding the said cart, and fully submerged it in the white paint without even realizing. As he listened to Goose speak, every time he touched his face or his hair, now has a thin coat of paint from his hand. He only notices when he sees his reflection in the metal of the plane, and has to hold back a yelp at his appearance.
"Why don't you tell Iceman?" Jester asks from behind his cards, and Tom draws a sharp breath.
"Because Ice would break his heart. And it would destroy any friendship they have. Plus, he could report Maverick and get him dishonorably discharged. Ice is an asshole to everyone except to the people he cares about, and he's also competitive. If he found out Mav is in love with him Ice could bring up a case against him."
Tom audibly makes an affronted sound that echoes throughout the hangar at Sundown's words before he hurriedly turns it into a shitty bird call because obviously there would be a bird in the fucking airplane hangar.
Truly, not one of his finest moments.
"I don't think Ice would report him." Hollywood says, and hurt flares through Tom's chest at the very thought of betraying Maverick. He would never, could never hurt his wingman like that.
"I feel sorry for the poor kid." Jester hums and Ice hates that fact that his friends think that he would crush Maverick's hopes.
"Either way, Mav won't tell Ice his feelings, so he's living with a broken heart." Tom doesn't hear much more of the conversation after that, Goose's words playing on repeat in his mind.
Soon enough, Jester calls the rest of the guys to get back to work, and they each file out of the hangar until Ice is the only one left in the room.
Hollywood is on his ass cackling and leaking tears of mirth as soon as they're out of earshot.
"Where's our fucking Oscars at?" Sunny howls and Jester claps them all on the back. This may or may not be one of the most fun things Nick has done in his entire life and he plans to tell Carole every single detail when he gets home. He can already hear his wife's twinkling laughter and the pitter-patter of little feet running across the floor as Bradley tackles him when he gets through the door. If he's lucky he'll get an extra kiss for his antics.
"If Ice doesn't get his shit together after that, I give up all hope."
Love me? Ice thinks, picking up the manilla folders he dropped and trying to find a cloth to wipe his paint splattered hands and face. He doesn't find one and he lets out a long groan.
Why?
Pete Mitchell is the most beautiful human Tom has ever known, he could have anyone he wanted with his cheeky grin, his fearlessness, and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes that never leaves. Every time Maverick walks into the room people notice, Ice notices.
He notices whenever Maverick's tired, or hungover, or pissed at himself for letting a MiG almost get tone on him. Tom knows the different kinds of smiles and body language for the people that he interacts with. He knows that when Mav gets nervous he fidgets with the sleeves on his uniform, or pick at the lint on the sides of his pants. Ice knows Pete Mitchell like the back of his hand, and to find out that this radiant human being loves him?
Tom's never been happier in his entire life.
He whistles Great Balls of Fire as he walks to Viper's office, and as he turns the corner he bumps into the very person he wants to see. He puts on a sickly sweet smile for his wingman and it's adorable how quickly the shorter pilot's face turns pink under Ice's gaze. He uses his free hand to effectively pin his wingman against the wall, towering over him and he sees Maverick's eyes light up in the most adorable confused look.
"What happened to you?" Maverick breathes out in question and Ice realizes that he still has pain in his hair and scattered across his face and uniform.
"Tripped in a paint bucket when I came through the hangar with some things for Viper." At that, Maverick snorts a laugh and Tom wants to make the shorter man do that every day for the rest of his life.
"I had a question for you." Ice hums, and his wingman raises an eyebrow in response and pulls out his signature grin that Tom knows and loves so well.
"There's this bar that just opened up on the beach off base, was wondering if you wanted to go this Friday?"
Maverick turns an even darker color of red and Tom has to fight the urge to kiss him in the empty hallway until the shorter man knows that his feelings are reciprocated and his heart won't be weighed down by the burden of unrequited love.
"S-sure," He squeaks out and Ice's smile grows wider as he pulls back from the wall and Maverick hasn't moved an inch as he's still plastered to the cinderblock behind him.
"Perfect. Pick you up at eight? I'll drive."
Neither him nor Maverick see seven heads peek out from behind the wall, they don't hear the high five's the group of pilots give each other either.
Ice wears the paint on his body like a badge of honor for the rest of the day. Viper makes a face at him when he enters the office, but Tom can't find it in himself to give a shit.