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Despite spending many a leave with Bradley, Maverick had never considered the fact that Bradley was, well, a child. He was Bradley. Maverick’s godson. His best bud. The guy he held after his mother when he was born because his father had passed out upon seeing his kid pop out.
Brad was Brad. Baby Goose. Brad Brad. Little Shadow, as Ice affectionately joked considering Bradley’s constant need to be around his Uncle Mav whenever he was there.
Bradley was Goose’s kid but he wasn’t a child.
Except-
He was. He was very much a child. And Maverick needed to remember that.
Ideally, Ice and Carole both would’ve preferred this had happened before Maverick had gone well on his way to corrupting the boy and throwing him on bikes and teaching him the basics of driving (‘He needs to learn!’ ‘He’s four years old!’) and teaching him to swear but ‘only in appropriate scenarios, I swear, Ice!’.
(Ice would argue learning when to flip the bird to an Admiral wasn’t an appropriate scenario, but he’d also long since given up trying to tell Maverick that.)
But hey, Maverick would also like to argue that as long as he learnt it at some point, that was all well and good, wasn’t it?!
In reality, Maverick realised, he probably should’ve paid attention to the fact that Bradley was a) a child, and b) not quite using the critical thinking skills that Ice had (and also claimed Maverick didn’t have, but that was an argument for another day) as much as Maverick thought Bradley would’ve.
In his defence, aside from Brad, Maverick really hadn’t been around kids all that often. Not when he was old enough to use some of his thinking skills to realise differences, and definitely not since Bradley was born and he’d become an extension of Maverick.
Of course it always had to hit Maverick how much of a child his little guy was when it alarmed him the most.
Himself and Carole had taken Bradley out for the day whilst Ice had been called in to Top Gun for ‘a meeting’, much to Bradley’s displeasure who thought it was an inexcusable crime that Uncle Ice couldn’t come and look at the animals with them in the zoo. Secretly, Maverick thought the same, and knew that Ice would agree too (and had told Bradley as much). But one of them had to be a responsible adult and lord knows the brass knew it could never be Maverick.
He’d wished beyond anything that Ice could’ve come with them, that they could play happy family under the guise of wingmen taking any excuse to spoil their fallen squadmate’s family, which was partly true. He and Ice would never be able to make it up to Bradley and Carole for their actions in losing Goose, but they’d do anything in their power to try and make living just a little easier. And if it meant that sometimes he had to go out without his wingman to keep the smile on their boy’s face, then Maverick would reluctantly do so.
Though, in retrospect, perhaps it was a good thing that Ice missed the opportunity to realise that Bradley didn’t have any critical thinking skills, because Maverick sure wasn’t over it either.
The first sign, Maverick realised, that Bradley was deep in thought was when he’d rather conspicuously looked around the small diner at the zoo before fixing his stare on Maverick.
It was almost creepy how much he’d perfected the stare that Maverick only ever really saw on Ice.
“Uncle Mav, I gotsta ask you somethin’.” Bradley slurped up his milkshake as he kept his stare fixed on Mav.
“I’m all ears, Baby Goose,” Mav grinned, arms folded across the table as he and Carole exchanged a fond smile towards Brad.
“You know how you and Uncle Ice are-” Bradley paused for a moment to look side to side again all conspiratorially, before whispering, “Wingmen-” Maverick couldn’t help but laugh softly as he nodded, taking in Bradley’s understanding of his relationship with Ice. “And he’s your best friend too, does that mean that when you and Uncle Ice get married, you're gonna be Maverick Man?”
For a moment, silence descended on the three of them as Bradley stared expectantly at Maverick, whilst Carole was staring at her child like she had no idea where the hell that line of questioning had come from.
Maverick, however, was simply staring at Baby Goose, mouth dropped open and his brain completely short-circuiting as it repeated Bradley’s marry Ice-marry Ice-marry Ice-Marry Tom Iceman Kazansky Top Gun Graduate Naval Aviator and (one of) the best of his generation declaration repeated on a loop in his head.
Bradley simply slurped more of his milkshake, waiting for an answer that took forever to come, as Maverick blinked multiple times to try and clear the fog from his mind that was all due to the concept of one day… him and Ice-
Did Bradley seriously think they could last? That they’d make it through all the hiding and the secrets and trying to pretend that they were just good ol’ pals who like being wingmen together when in reality Maverick slept better in Ice’s arms when Tom held Pete and whispered mindless nonsense to him that finally stopped the noises in his head from getting louder. That they’d find ways to keep the secrecy from killing them, when Pete couldn’t attend things with Tom, but Maverick could escape from them as Ice worked the brass to get higher up. That one day, if the world would ever let them, that Tom would even want to commit to spending the rest of his life with Pete, when there were plenty of people out there that would be far better suited to Tom Kazansky than Pete Mitchell ever could be.
If Maverick had his way, if the world let him, he’d be on one knee in front of Ice and asking him to be his wingman forever right that second.
But alas, all he had in front of him right now was an inquisitive four year old, who only knew that his Uncle Ice and his Uncle Mav were wingmen and wanted to get an answer to his question that he was looking increasingly annoyed that he hadn’t gotten.
So, after swallowing thickly and trying his best to breathe, Maverick asked, in an incredibly high pitched voice that he would deny ever reaching, “Sorry?”
“Will you be Maverick Man?” Bradley repeated.
“Why would I be Maverick Man?”
Maverick watched as Bradley sighed, giving him a look that screamed he was obviously wanting to tell his Uncle Mav to stop being silly the way that Ice had taught him to, and replied, “Well, if Uncle Ice’s surname is Man, when you marry him, you gotta be like Momma and copy his name, like how Momma is Momma Goose, and I’m Baby Goose! So are you gonna be Uncle Mav Man like Uncle Ice is Uncle Ice Man?”
For a moment, Maverick and Carole simply stared at Bradley so that they could process Bradley’s logic.
Logically, Maverick could see how Bradley had come to the conclusion that Ice’s name was simply Ice, and not actually Tom. Thinking on it, Maverick knew that he’d never called Ice Tom in front of Brad, and Carole tended to call him sweetheart and Icey-Baby (the only one who could, it should be noted!), or Slider who never needed to even say Ice’s name to get his attention. Anyone outside of their trusted circle always called Ice, well, Ice. And they’d not exactly had the conversation with Bradley about the usage of callsigns yet.
But, as Carole cackled in the corner, clearly enjoying Maverick’s wide eyed red faced shock, Maverick nodded slowly. Bradley seemed so intent on Maverick getting to marry Ice one day, seeing it as an inevitable kind of love just like his parents had. Baby Goose, who didn’t understand (and didn’t know) that his favourite person couldn’t marry his best friend because the world wouldn’t let him, but who thought that they should get married because if his Momma and Daddy loved each other and could, then his Mav and Ice could get married for the same reason.
“Why-“ Maverick started, before cutting himself off to cough when his voice hadn’t returned from its high-pitched state. “Why would I have to be Maverick Man?”
“‘Cause Uncle Ice is Ice Man, Uncle Mav, we talked about this!” Bradley stressed, looking increasingly concerned that his Uncle Mav had seemingly hit his head and forgotten what his own partner’s name was. “So are you gonna be Mr and Mr Man, like Momma and Daddy are Mr and Mrs Goose?”
Carole had slid down in the booth, hands pressed to her face and silently cackling so that she inevitably didn’t make Bradley feel bad for asking his questions. She’d raised her boy with the understanding that if he was old enough to ask questions, he was old enough to get age appropriate answers. They’d done their best to explain grief to him, to explain that Daddy was in heaven now, and they’d done their best to explain that Uncle Mav was going to help look after him because that’s what Daddy would want. And clearly, they’d done such a damn fucking good job of telling Bradley that Uncle Mav was allowed to love Uncle Ice (even if it had to be a secret, but Bradley loved secrets, so that was okay), that they hadn’t realised their way of bringing the kid up was going to backfire quite so beautifully.
Breathing out a sigh, Maverick looked up to Goose for a moment, cursing his mere existence that left him answering this question, as his wife and he (no doubt) laughed at him. “Okay, so. Three things wrong with your assessment there, Brad. First, if I was to get married, not saying I will, not saying I won’t, but if I did get married, I get to be Lieutenant instead, okay? I will get a better title than Mister.”
Bradley rolled his eyes at that. He didn’t really understand ranks in the same way he didn’t understand callsigns. Maverick knew, however, that Bradley didn’t really care either way. He just thought marriage was cool.
“Second, what makes you so positive that I would be the one to take Ice’s surname? Maybe he will take mine.” Which-
If that unloaded a whole tonne of feelings in Maverick at the mere prospect of Ice becoming a Mitchell, well, put it this way. Maverick was so fucking glad he was sat with a table in front of him at that second.
Meanwhile, Bradley was too busy shooting him a look that Maverick just knew (without proof, he needed it noting, he just knew) had been copied from a certain Ice-Cold-No-Mistakes individual who had the blank face of disapproval down to a fucking T.
Wasn’t a fan of his Uncle out-logicing him, clearly.
“And third, and arguably most importantly,” Maverick started, watching Bradley lean forward as though he was going to be told the world’s great secret. “Ice’s last name isn’t Man. So whatever happened, I wouldn’t be Uncle Mav Man, kid.”
“Yes it is,” Bradley said as though Maverick had lost his mind.
Raising an eyebrow, Maverick shook his head. “No.”
“Yes it is. Uncle Sli told me. He said that Uncle Ice is Mr Ice Man.”
Carole was still grinning as she looked at Maverick, before putting her arm around Bradley and pulling him in to press a kiss to his temple. “Oh baby, never change.”
Bradley grinned as he cuddled into his Mom, still staring at Maverick as he scrubbed his hands over his face at Bradley’s logic finally making sense. Fucking Slider. Maverick was going to drive his bike directly into Slider the next time he saw him. And kick him in the shins. Just to really emphasise that he was annoyed with the giant of a man.
Goose may have liked Slider, but Goose was also known for his bad decisions (mainly encouraging Maverick’s chaos), so Maverick thought that perhaps he shouldn’t pay attention to Goose’s feelings on this.
Not when it’s Goose’s son who had ended up becoming Slider’s latest victim of his dumbassery.
“Brad, buddy. Ice’s callsign is Iceman. That’s his full callsign, like mine is Maverick. But you call me Mav because it’s easier. We call Ice a short name too because it’s easier. His actual surname is Kazansky, not Man. His name is Tom Kazansky. Does that make sense?”
For a moment, Bradley and Maverick simply stared at each other.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Maverick spent half of his time starting at the ice cold but so like the ocean in the Maldives eyes that sent a chill down anyone else’s spine, Maverick would feel the general unease that came with a child staring into your eyes and seeing directly into your soul.
“Brad, does it make sense? That Uncle Ice’s real name is Tom Kazansky, do you get that?”
Slowly Bradley started to nod. “I think so.”
“Good, I can write out all of your Uncle’s names when we-”
“So you’re gonna be Uncle Maverick Kazansky then?” Bradley cut him off, head cocked slightly as he stared expectantly at Maverick.
And naturally, Maverick spluttered over his words as Carole started to praise Bradley for having such clever ideas!
Maverick would like it to be known that his family were nothing but evil and he hated them.
(That’s a lie, he loved them more than anything. But Bradley making comments about him and Ice getting married had him feeling all kinds of ways that weren’t appropriate for company that wasn’t Ice and he wasn’t feeling great about that.)
“Brad, Baby Goose, me and Uncle Ice aren’t going to get married. Not anytime soon,” Maverick tried to placate when he saw Bradley’s face drop and his little mouth curve in sadness. Even if Maverick didn’t believe that there’d ever been a point in time where he and Ice could marry anyway, Brad didn’t need to know that. “But seriously, kid, I’m not taking Uncle Ice’s surname. I like being a Mitchell.”
“But Momma says you should marry your best friend, and that’s why she married Daddy, and so you gotta-”
“Your Mom is a menace, Brad. Don’t listen to your mother, listen to me, your perfect Uncle Mav,” Maverick told him with a grin as Carole spluttered and pulled Bradley into her chest, still laughing, and cupped her hands over his little ears to hide him from his Uncle Mav’s lies.
Bradley, for his part, simply looked unamused by the adults in his life and looked up all confused at his mother in his little silent world.
“Just sayin’, Mav, you and Mr Icicle do look really smoky in your whites together. You can both be the blushing bride if you like,” Carole grinned. Bradley was back to focusing on his milkshake with his mother’s hands still over his ears and eyeing Maverick like he still determined him to be a stinky little liar for pretending that he wasn’t going to take Uncle Ice’s surname when they got married. “All pressed trousers and your hair done neat, my Baby Goose your best man-”
“Aw hell, Carole, you know you’ll be my best girl,” Maverick interrupted. Even if they both did know they’d rather be talking about Goose standing there as Maverick’s best man. “You’ll always be my best girl, even when you’re driving me insane.”
“Call it payback for you and that man of yours teaching my baby how to be a maverick!” Carole giggled as Maverick lent across the table to press a kiss to Carole’s cheek, and then Bradley’s forehead when his godson pouted at not being involved in the kisses.
“We do no such thing,” Maverick said, before correcting himself when Carole raised an eyebrow at Bradley’s loud slurping that he’d 100% learnt from Maverick. “Ice won’t let me teach him how to be feral, he’s put his foot down on that one. Keeps reading Brad the NATOPs so that he, and I quote, knows the correct procedures that don’t involve investigating foreign relations.”
Carole’s head dropped back with a cackle at Maverick’s bitter tone complete with a pout that Maverick would deny to his dying day that his boyfriend insisted on raising their (because he was theirs at this point, on paper he may just be Maverick’s, but Ice was as enchanted by that boy as Maverick was, so they cut their losses and called Brad theirs) godson how to be a proper gent.
Maverick would simply teach him how to be feral when Ice went on his next deployment without Maverick. Whenever that was. He’d find a way. Being feral was good for kids.
And for Mavericks, clearly.
“Momma,” Bradley piped up, tilting his head out of Carole’s grasp to lean back against his mother and look up at her. “Do you gotta have Daddy’s name ‘cause he’s tall?”
“What do you mean, baby?” Carole asked as both her and Maverick frowned at Bradley, who had clearly been thinking about the logistics of marriage still whilst Carole was winding Maverick up.
“You’re Momma Goose, that’s what Uncle Sli says, right? And I’m Baby Goose.”
“Yeah, baby, ‘cause your Daddy’s callsign’s Goose.”
“And Daddy’s tall. So, did you copy Daddy ‘cause how else do you pick who gets the cool name? Or did you ask Daddy to be Goose too ‘cause it’s cool? So is Uncle Mav gonna be Mr Ice too ‘cause Ice is a cool name, or is it ‘cause he’s small too, like me and you are, Momma.”
For a moment, neither Carole nor Maverick, once again in the face of childish innocent questioning, stared silently at Bradley as they took in his logic and tried to process him just… violating Maverick’s height.
“Carole,” Maverick said calmly, staring Bradley down who was still waiting expectantly for his answer. “I am going to feed your child to the lions.”
Bradley squealed as Maverick dove across the table to grab hold of him, with Carole quickly moving Bradley’s milkshake out of the way before the two could end up in a fight. Carole, bless her heart, was too busy laughing at Bradley’s sentiment to care too much as Maverick chased after Bradley.
It would never stop surprising Maverick just how fast kids were when they were running away from trouble.
“Come back you little worm!” Maverick laughed as Bradley ran and ran and ran, diving effortlessly between people as Maverick hunted down the child.
Maybe he should take Ice up on those early morning run suggestions, it might make it easier to catch Bradley when he chose to be this flighty little fucker who enjoyed bullying his dear old godfather.
Naturally, in the way it always seemed to go with little kids who had the attention span of a goldfish sometimes, Maverick whirled to a stop when Bradley had became enraptured by a lizard of all things, and quickly scooped the boy up into his arms and ticked him within an inch of his life as Bradley fought to keep his gaze locked onto the lizard, whilst also fighting his Uncle Mav.
“Now, where’s the lions?” Maverick grinned as Bradley wiggled and screamed his protests in Maverick’s arms, though his incessant need to laugh loudly and try to tickle his godfather back resulted in very little success of escaping.
On the detour back to finding Carole, Maverick did make sure to swing by the lion enclosure and jokingly throw Bradley in their direction, though kept his grip tight. Bradley’s own little arms stayed tight around Maverick’s neck, giggling something about how Uncle Ice would save him anyway. Naturally, Maverick tried to throw him again, even when his actions resulted in some concerned glances from other adults nearby.
Eh. If he could handle the disappointed looks from the Iceman, he could handle random adults questioning if he could be left in charge of a child. Brad Brad didn’t count as a normal kid anyway. He was Brad-Brad, he could be thrown into the lions and somehow still come out on top because he was Maverick’s godson.
“For the record, Bradley Peter Bradshaw,” Maverick jostled as he carried Bradley back to his mother. “Your Uncle Ice may be taller than I am, but I’m the cooler one, yeah? Don’t you ever think your Uncle Ice is cooler than me.”
Bradley nodded solemnly and tucked his head back into Maverick’s neck. He may not truly understand what Maverick was saying, nor necessarily agree. But as long as Maverick could continue to reinforce it and slowly force his kid to accept that his Uncle Mav was the best (which, secretly, he did think Brad thought anyway, but he just kept reinforcing it anyway), he absolutely would.
He and Ice may argue over who the better pilot was.
But he and Brad would also argue over who was the coolest person possible just to ensure that Brad grew up knowing how to argue. It was a helpful trait to have. And if it resulted in Maverick winning yet another competition with his partner, then what a win it would be.
“But Brad, kiddo, I promise you, if me and Uncle Ice ever got married, we’d probably just keep our own surnames. You don’t have to take someone else’s, yeah? If you think your surname is the coolest and they think theirs is the coolest, you keep yours.”
“‘Cause then I can always be Brad Goose, like Daddy wanted?” Bradley asked quietly, looking up at Maverick with those big doe eyes that Maverick was always powerless to say no to.
“Yeah, kid,” Maverick answered softly, memories of Goose being so proud to show off his little boy to the world fluttering through his mind, and the pride that burned deep in Maverick’s heart at the knowledge that his best friend trusted him to keep this boy and his father’s memory alive. “You can keep your Daddy’s name forever if you want. No one can stop you, as long as you want it, that’s what matters.”
“Goose is a cool name.” Bradley’s head dropped onto Maverick’s shoulder, exhaustion from the day and all his wonderful theorising and logicing catching up to him. “Daddy got the best name. I’m gonna be a Goose forever.”
Carole was standing outside of the diner when Maverick returned with the child, fond looks that only slightly held the grief that sat with her permanently that her Goose wasn’t here doing this with them, winding Bradley up and teaching Maverick that things would be good one day, that he’d get everything he wanted.
“You can be whatever you want to be, baby,” Carole said softly with so much pride in her voice that it covered the thick emotion. “Your Daddy will be proud of you whatever you do, even if you marry someone you want to take their surname from. You can be a Bradshaw, or not. But you’ll always be mine and your Daddy’s baby.”
“Baby Goose.” Bradley nodded solemnly as though it was the only option for him to have in the world. And to a four year old who hadn’t ever spent any time thinking about his own name because he was too busy trying to theorise over how his Uncle Mav would need to take his Uncle Ice’s surname because of the height difference, their best friendliness, or the cooler surname, that was probably the case.
Because Maverick knew perfectly well that he rarely called Bradley by his full government name. And with how Carole almost exclusively called Bradley baby and pretty much everyone else called Brad Baby Goose and his mom Momma Goose, it made sense that Bradley would not have questioned that his name would be anything but Goose.
Maverick and Carole took a moment to stare at each other, doing that Proper Adult Thing (which was surprising Maverick knew how to do that) of having a conversation completely with their eyes and a lift of eyebrows, and conversed the whole ‘you can be the one to tell your child’ ‘no he’s your godson, he’s dumb like you’ ‘don’t be RUDE, Carole!’ moment in a matter of seconds.
Somehow, against all will, Carole sighed and reached out to brush Bradley’s hair off of his forehead. “You’ll always be my Baby Goose, baby, but your Daddy’s surname is Bradshaw, not Goose. You’re a Bradshaw, baby.”
For a moment, Bradley said nothing, but Maverick and Carole were front row to watch Bradley’s little expressions go through what could only be described as the many stages of grief as his young mind slowly comprehended just what it was that his Momma was telling him. That his whole (albeit very short) life had been nothing short of a lie considering he’d been denied his Goose Status by the mere miseducation of no one thinking to tell young Baby Goose that he did in fact have two separate names.
And only one of them was recognised by the government. Worst of all, Maverick knew, was that it wasn’t even the name that Bradley wanted which was recognised.
“I’m a WHAT?!” Bradley screamed loud enough that if Maverick wasn’t sure that his hearing hadn’t already been mildly fucked by the fighter jets he spent his life around, the ringing in his ear from Bradley’s shrill shock would be enough to fuck it himself.
From his spot on Maverick’s hip, Bradley stared his mother down with wide and slightly betrayed eyes, and it took every single ounce of military training that Maverick had to not burst into laughter at his godson’s antics.
Instead, Maverick channelled his inner Iceman and made sure to present a stoic look as Bradley argued with Carole about the merits behind changing his name to Baby Goose permanently, whilst Carole reminded him that they had definitely used his proper name before, this was a case of Bradley not using his listening skills properly to pay attention to what his Momma and Daddy and Uncle Ice and all his fun uncles and grandparents had told him in the past.
“But best friends have to have the same name, Momma. You and Daddy are gotta be Goose forever!” Bradley protested, his head now tucked under Maverick’s chin and against his shoulder as he fiddled with Maverick’s dog tags.
“I’ll always be your Daddy’s,” Carole promised with a solemnity that Bradley was too young to pick up on. “I’ll always be your Daddy’s best friend, and I’ll always have your Daddy’s name with us, baby, I promise.”
Bradley held up his little hand and extended his pinky finger for Carole to wrap hers around in a silent promise to always remember Goose. Maverick knew it would be impossible to forget the man, not with how Carole made sure to remind Bradley every night that his Daddy loved him and how Maverick and the other flyboys kept Goose’s story alive with ridiculous stories.
Or how Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky would let little Bradley ‘Baby Goose’ Bradshaw curl up on his lap and teach him how to play the piano on the days that missing Goose hit them all extra hard. Ice may not be teaching him Great Balls of Fire just yet, but even in that, something so small but so Goose, he lived on. Through his spirit. His name. And the love that his little boy would receive tenfold over.
By the time that Maverick had gotten home that evening with Baby Goose’s exclaimed horror that his last name wasn’t Goose still echoing in his ear and Bradley still refusing to believe his surname was Bradshaw, Ice was already in the shower and a note had been left on the side that said take-out was due to be delivered soon. How Ice knew that Maverick was on his way home to him was a mystery, but Maverick had long since learnt to not question Ice on how that omniscient mind of his worked.
If it meant that Maverick got what he wanted in the end, why bother questioning it?
Flopping down onto the bed, Maverick waited patiently for Ice to realise he was home, wanting nothing more than to watch that little bit of joy enter Ice’s eyes at the sight of Maverick being home even though they both knew he’d deny it until his dying day. Just like Maverick would deny the warmth that flooded his body at the prospect of Ice being his until his dying day.
“Maverick,” Ice drawled. Maverick looked up, propping himself on his elbows as he looked at Ice standing in the doorway to the bathroom, still shirtless for Maverick to roam his eyes over shamelessly, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The smirk that decorated the man’s lips as he scrubbed a towel over his hair spoke volume about just how much Ice knew Maverick enjoyed the view.
“Iceman.” Maverick nodded in response, though he did nothing to fight the grin that was curling at the corners of his mouth at the prospect of Ice being in front of him.
When Maverick had first watched Goose fall in love with Carole, which was nigh-on instantly he would like it to be noted upon them first meeting, he’d had to listen to Goose wax poetic for days constantly about how just seeing Carole, knowing she was in his vicinity, even if they weren’t touching or actively doing anything together, was enough to light the fire within his heart and just make his day that much better, something that felt more unlikely to happen than catching lightning in your own hands. And, frankly, Maverick had thought it was bullshit.
But as his heart skipped a beat and he felt that wave of contentment roll through him just knowing that Ice was there and if Maverick wanted to go and hold him he could, he thought he finally understood just why Goose had spoke about love as if it was the most amazing thing on the planet.
No longer was flying his jet at breakneck speeds and doing daring stunts the best thing to ever happen to him: seeing Tom Kazansky looking soft and domestic in a place that was theirs was enough to take that top step role instead.
The soft smile that peaked at Ice’s lips as his smirk dropped before winking at Maverick in a silently conspiratorial I love you gesture sent a fire of appreciation through Maverick’s body, the goosebumps rising as Ice trailed his eyes over him before breaking away to stare back at his own reflection in the mirror.
“So Brad said something real funny at the zoo today,” Maverick said, picking at a loose thread on the comforter as Ice continued to dry off his hair and comb his fingers through it to push it off his forehead.
“Did he think the penguins were your brothers because you’re also short and can’t fly like them?”
“Fuck you, Kazansky. Firstly, I fly better than you, wingman. Secondly, I’m taller than a penguin.” Maverick saw Ice’s smirk in the mirror, and simply flipped him off when his wingman looked at him. He waited until Ice put the towel down, giving him full access to his facial expression, before dropping the bomb. “He asked if when we get married, I’ll take your surname.”
Ice, for all his credit, didn’t react as badly as Maverick expected. If anything, the man only faltered slightly, his hand stuttering in mid-air, before he continued to hang the towel up to dry.
If Maverick wasn’t an expert at reading Ice by now, he’d say he looked impassively bored with the conversation.
However, with the twitch in his jaw and the way the tips of his ears reddened, arguably there was another feeling Ice was having that was more pleasing to the eye. And Maverick’s hopes for the future with the man.
“And what did you say?”
“Didn’t like his reasoning, so I said no,” Maverick told him. Ice shut the bathroom light off before walking back into the bedroom and stopping between Maverick’s knees hanging off the edge of the bed and watched him push himself into a seated position. Immediately, Ice’s hand went into Maverick’s hair, toying with the longer strands on top as the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement.
“And what, pray tell, was your dear godson’s logic?”
“Well, firstly he thinks we have to get married because we are ‘best friends’-”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that, Mitchell.”
Maverick shrugged as though to say ‘fight the kid’, because they both knew full fucking well that Ice was full of shit there.
“And Carole told him that you should marry your best friend, so of course that means that because you are my wingman, you should marry me.”
“Well, naturally, I see how that is the only correct path forward,” Ice grinned, eyes full of something that Maverick was hoping and praying was simply content amusement. There was a small part of Maverick that couldn’t help but fall a little more in love when Ice nodded sincerely and agreed with a child’s wonderfully odd logic. Though, really, he was probably used to the slightly odd logic considering he spent most of his time around Maverick, who wasn’t exactly known around these parts for having logic that anyone else could follow.
“And then he decided that I should take your surname because you’re not allowed mine.”
Frowning, Ice cocked his head. “You’ve told him about your Dad?”
“Nope,” Maverick sighed, shaking his head as he looked down to where he’d started tracing a pattern over Ice’s thighs, huffing a laugh, before looking back up at Ice. “If I tell you why you can’t have my name, you have to promise not to laugh.”
“No promises, but I’ll try my best. That’s what we agreed on, Mitchell.”
Taking a deep breath, Maverick prepared himself for what he knew was to come. And what was to come, was a whole load of Iceman refusing to stop laughing for the next millennium probably.
“So Goose is taller than Carole, right?”
Ice nodded, still confused expression on his face. “Goose was taller than most people.”
“Yeah, but Bradley knows that. And he knows that Goose is taller than Brad is too. He doesn’t understand the concept of growing up and growing taller yet. But he knows that his Dad is tall, and his Mom and him are both short. And he knows too that he and his Mom have his Dad’s surname.” Maverick explained. His eyes stayed fixed on Ice the entire time, watching to see when it would fall into place. Clearly, it was a slow day for Kazansky today, who simply carried on frowning and wasn’t putting the pieces together. “So he thinks that whoever is tallest gets to make everyone else have their surname too when they ‘make a family’. You’re taller than me, we are a family, and therefore I have to take your surname.”
For a moment, Ice said nothing as he stared at Maverick. For anyone else, Maverick knew it would be a concerning thing to think that their partner was probably overthinking marriage or a family declaration from a child who barely came up to his waist. But that far off look in Ice’s eyes, the softening around the corners of his lips as they curled in slight satisfaction, and the gentle caress of his fingers in Maverick’s hair spoke volume about how in love with the concept Mr Iceman Kazansky was.
“Kid’s got a point though, Mav,” Ice ended up saying, before pointedly looking down to show the height difference between them. “I mean, the penguins were probably taller than you, so guess it makes sense that you gotta be Pete Kazansky, can’t fight a four year old, they’re stubborn as hell.”
“Like he doesn’t get his stubbornness from you!”
“Gets all his best qualities from me,” Ice grinned. “His attitude. His ability to be right. He might get his height from you but I’m sure one day we can prove that he’ll get that from me too.”
“Oh fuck you, Kazansky.” Maverick laughed loudly as Ice pushed him down onto the bed, smart fingers falling from his hair to dance over his ribs and sides, tickling him as Maverick wiggled and pushed against him to dislodge the other pilot, whilst Ice focused on pressing laughing, lingering kisses up Maverick’s neck and along his jawline. “You, Kazansky, are a menace.”
“And you, Mitchell, are dangerous,” Ice retorted. His hand slipped up from Maverick’s side, tracing the curve of his arm and gave Maverick enough time to get his breath back before it was instantly ripped from his lungs faster than launching off a carrier could do so when Ice’s fingers ran delicately over Maverick’s ring finger absentmindedly.
Whatever Maverick was hoping to think about was quickly stolen from him when all he could instead think about was one day being tied to Tom Kazansky for the rest of his days.
The Maverick of his Top Gun days would probably be rolling in his grave at the prospect.
The Maverick of today was only thinking about how right Carole was to say seeing Tom in his whites at the altar might just be the most perfect sight that had ever been created.
“What are you thinking about?” Ice murmured as his finger continued its dramatic assault of making Maverick crave what he’d never be able to have and his lips scarred Maverick’s neck with soft kisses.
“That Carole is evil,” Maverick retorted, laughing softly when Ice chuckled in exasperation. “You?”
“How pretty you would be as my pretty little housewife, to be frank,” Ice grumbled into his neck as he pushed Maverick deeper into the mattress and the bruising kisses all along his neck grew harder and Maverick giggled underneath him. Which he would deny if anyone ever asked.
The giggling part, of course. He had no plans to ever let anyone even think that he spent time underneath Tom. That was something safe just for them and their trusted little circle.
The people that they brought into their family.
Because that’s what they were, him and Tom. A family. Their own little family.
He may not be able to put a ring on Tom’s finger and tell the world that he was his, but privately, calling Tom his family, that was more than anything Pete Mitchell had ever thought he’d get one day.
And wasn’t it a beautiful little thing to have?
Thirty Years Later
Sometimes, when it was quiet, Maverick could still hear Bradley screaming in his head. Could still hear the ringing of his godson’s shrill voice as he screamed in horror at not having a cool surname like Goose and instead was a Bradshaw.
Now that he’d grown up and was a Rooster, Maverick was thanking a God he’d never believed in for that because if he ever got grandkids he wasn’t going to be able to look them in the eye if their name was Rooster-Goose. That was just weird.
Though, if what Maverick was seeing was to be believed, it wouldn’t be Goose that would get his name passed on to any future grandkid of Maverick’s.
No, Sir, it would not.
It would instead be the smartass drawling cowboy that was now his boy’s ‘wingman’ (yeah, Maverick scoffed, he and Ice had been ‘wingmen’ once too) that was going to be a part of the future of their family.
Hangman and Rooster had been bickering all night, the rest of the Dagger Squad dutifully tuning the pair of them out apparently as they’d fought over pool, and then darts, and then flying, and then, bizarrely enough, line dancing apparently. Maverick had walked in just as he’d caught sight of Hangman hooting and hollering at Rooster as he two-stepped, and he’d been tempted to turn around and walk right back out.
Instead, Maverick had taken up his spot, sitting at the edge of the group and watching his kids smile and laugh and bicker and argue like children and not the highly trained and dangerous naval aviators they were.
None bickered quite like Bradley and Jake appeared to, though. It was oddly reminiscent of the days in which Ice and himself were still dancing around each other, fighting and arguing under the guise of keeping the others' attention on them so that they knew they were safe. Maverick remembered the days fondly, remembered Ice purposefully annoying him, remembered telling Ice he was (and still is) the better pilot, remembered the day that Ice got down on one knee only to have the ring that Maverick had bought him thrown back in his face as the answer instead of a yes.
And-
Maverick still remembered, clear as day, the argument that young Bradley Bradshaw deemed necessary to hash out with his Uncle Mav (and then again with his Uncle Ice when he’d been over making pierogi with him a few weeks later) in the middle of the zoo.
If the eyes that Bradley was making at Jake was anything to go by, and the exasperated sighs of the daggers as the twos posturing only seemed to get worse when Jake bent over the pool table and Bradley didn’t even try to pretend like he wasn’t staring at Seresin’s ass, well, Maverick was simply doing a public duty helping the pair of them out.
“Hey, Brad,” Maverick called out, drawing Rooster’s attention off of Jake for the first time that night and also making the other aviator glare up at Maverick for ruining his 100%-of-Rooster’s-Attention streak. “If you marry him, we can both finally be Mr. Man, huh?”
Bradley’s face contorted into a momentary confusion, whilst Maverick simply quirked an eyebrow and lifted the hand holding his beer bottle that just so happened to the hand with Ice’s ring wrapped around his finger to his lips to take a generous swig. Flitting his eyes over to Jake, Maverick saw the even deeper confusion, and what could potentially be jealousy too, on Jake’s face, before looking back at Bradley. Bradley’s eyes followed Maverick’s. The moment that the light bulb memory flashed in Bradley’s brain was as clear as day on his face as it quickly dropped from confusion to pleading, wide eyed, bright-red insistence.
“Mav, please, please, Dad. Don’t. Be quiet, for once, please, I beg of you, be quiet,” Bradley pled as Hangman slowly turned his head to look between Maverick, who was trying to not laugh, and Bradley who honestly looked like he’d rather be back in that F-14 than dealing with Maverick right now.
Before he could answer, an arm draped around the back of Maverick’s chair and pulled him slightly into the side of the neighbouring, now occupied, chair. “No, Mav. It’ll be Seresin who is Mr. Rooster, remember? The height difference.”
Maverick tilted his head back and cackled loudly at his wingman as Jake Seresin went into what could only be described as a state of shock at the freaking Commander of the Pacific Fleet smirking at him and joining in on sending Bradley into a state of horror.
“Welcome to the family, kid,” Ice drawled as he took Mav’s drink out of his loosening grip and took a sip, never once breaking away from staring at Hangman who was just… scared and confused, and Bradley who looked like he was regretting ever being born.
“Um- I- I just- what?!” Jake looked between the two gentlemen as Rooster tried to bury himself behind the pool cue, eyes scrunched shut as he shook his head like he was trying to block out the explanation that he knew Maverick was about to jump in to.
“Your dear old wingman, Jake, became convinced that when I married Ice one day, which we simply must do because we are best friends, that because I’m shorter than Ice, I had to take his surname. Someone didn’t understand that when you’re four, you’re not grown up yet, and wouldn’t listen when we tried to explain. And no matter how much we tried to explain it to him, he refused to hear that Ice’s surname is Kazansky, and was convinced that it was mMan. But he also-”
“Mav, please-”
“Became convinced-”
“Ice, can’t you shut him up?”
“Absolutely not,” Ice grinned, as Maverick simply started talking louder over him and Bradley.
“CONVINCED, Jake, that his surname was Goose. And when his Mom had to explain that his surname was Bradshaw? You’d have thought we’d told him we were chucking him in the ocean, he was that outraged. ‘I want the cool surname’, he kept complaining for a solid year, Jake. But I reckon if we told Baby Brad he could be Mr. Hangman one day, he’d quite like that too. Hey, Ice, what was Brad’s favourite game when he was little? Was it I Spy?”
“I’m not sure, Mav,” Ice grinned as Hangman laughed loudly at his wingman’s exasperated sighing. “I only remember him wanting to play hangman. He loves that one.”
“God, I wish I was an orphan, for real this time,” Bradley groaned, his forehead pressing into his hands curled around the top of his pool cue.
It didn’t escape Maverick that the entire time that Bradley was lamenting and Jake was laughing, cheeks still tinged red with embarrassment but too busy annoying Bradley to focus on his own issues, Jake had his body pressed flush against Bradley. He was leaning into his pool cue, using it as a crutch as he crooned in Bradley’s ear, “You were so cute as a kid, but you’re so dumb, Roo-Roo!”
Neither of them seemed to notice the rest of the daggers laughing at them, nor the exchange of money going on between Javy and Natasha, nor did they notice that their close proximity meant that the second Bradley turned his head, his lips would be less than an inch from Jake’s, even as his shoulders shook with embarrassed laughter at Hangman’s insistence that Bradley was a dumbass.
There was a fond look in Jake’s eyes as he gazed at his dumbass of a wingman that had Maverick think it wouldn't be long until he saw a little silver ring wrapped around his finger.
Not when it seemed like Jake had finally gotten Rooster off of his perch and into his life.