Power Ballad

The cramped classroom is typical of the Navy, of all the services, really. Miramar is hot on a good day in the summer and the fans only succeed in moving around hot air instead of cooling anything. 

Pete and Nick have been sweating since they sat down. Everyone's got a thin, shiny layer except the old man standing at the front of the class. 

Viper Metcalf. A living legend. He looks out over Pete's class with a calculating eye. How many has he seen come and go? How many has he buried?

Nick's glancing around, clocking everyone he recognizes. He does it every time they arrive somewhere new. 

Nick knows a lot of people and somehow manages to be on friendly terms with all of them. Pete's got a few that he'd consider friends, but he tends to leave people a bit more spun up in his wake, so it's always kind of fifty-fifty how they react the next time he sees them.

He envies Nick that ease with people and thinks it's kind of like leadership. Some people have it, some people don't, and no amount of studying will teach it to you if you weren't born with it.

Nick flashing a grin over his shoulder is what makes Pete turn as Viper walks up and down the aisle. 

In the row behind them, across the way, is a blonde that defines blonde, flipping a pen over his knuckles. Long and fit and perfectly packed into his tans. 

He looks up, and their eyes meet, and Pete watches his eyes flash, his lips curling up into a smirk. 

Pete can feel his own lifting in kind. 

God, he's gorgeous and arrogant, as arrogant as Pete, he's willing to bet. His RIO is sprawled next to him, built like a brick shithouse with a possessive arm along the back of the couch. Nick's used that same move on Pete when he's feeling protective, so he's not too worried about it.

Think you belong on that trophy?

Yes, sir.

That's pretty arrogant considering the company you're in.

Yes, sir.

I like that in a pilot. Remember, when it's all over out there, we're all on the same team.

The firecracker in the front row had a gentle grin and eyes the color of moss, and Tom couldn't hold back his own smirk when he turned his on Tom.

He wasn't very tall, average, and compact; he had enough muscle to hold Tom up if he wanted to, and wasn't that an interesting thought?

Some guys just had that ease with people. Ron was a bit edgier, too smooth to be real sometimes. Others like Rick Neven and Len Wolfe had the high school quarterback charm that never went away, and some like Nick Bradshaw just cared so damn much about every damn person you had to like them.

Tom didn't have any of that. When he was a kid, he'd have fits of anxiety whenever he had to meet new people, forced into socializing on behalf of his parents, and lectured on how to do it properly and not make his father look bad. It had made him a decorative friend in high school, good for extra attention but no substance.

It wasn't until the Academy that he stopped letting people claim him as a friend for kicks. Nick's firecracker didn't seem like he'd ever had that problem. At ease with the world no matter what it did to him. The only time Tom was that free was when he was flying. The further from the ground he got, the lighter the chains felt. 

The Firecracker looks like he can fly without wings, unburdened by anything. Later, Tom realizes how wrong that assumption is. That everyone's chains look different, that cages can be made of different materials, including kindness. That love can be far more damaging than hate.

The Hard Deck is their home away from home because god knows pilots love nothing more than flying, but alcohol and bragging vie for a close second.

Nick wants to get the lay of the land, and Pete wants to get laid to distract himself from the knot in the pit of his stomach.

A few of the aviators from their class are already there. Decked out in whites and tans and aviators and balancing drinks and women in each hand.

There's a handful of people at the bar, and all Pete sees is blond, blond, blond, statuesque, and stunning.

Nick catches his eye and puts an elbow in his stomach.

That's the way he flies, ice-cold, no mistakes. Callsign Iceman.

Christ, Pete can feel the chill from across the room. Brisk, cool to the point of icy, every atom in Pete's body is standing at attention, poised to leap, because Christ, there's not a hair out of place on Iceman, and Pete wants to mess him up in the worst way.

Want to rumple his uniform, muss up his hair, redden and bruise his skin.

Wants to turn that sharp smirk into something heated and out of control. Pete's willing to bet everything he owns that he could make Iceman whimper and tear the sheets (he does, point of fact, achieve this later and then repeatedly, and Ice makes him stand up and beg in return).

Even Nick is slightly bashful in the face of Tom Kazansky's attention to Pete's endless amusement. 

Hey, hey, Slider. Thought you wanted to be a pilot man what happened?

Goose, you're such a dickhead. Whose butt did you kiss to get in here anyway?

The list is long but distinguished.

Yeah, well, so is my Johnson.

So, you're flying with Iceman, huh?

It's Mr. Iceman to you.

Hey, Mother Goose, how's it going?

Good, Tom. This is Pete Mitchell. Tom Kazansky.

Congratulations on Top Gun.

Thank you.

Sorry to hear about Cougar. He and I were like brothers in flight school. He was a good man.

Still is a good man.

Yeah, that's what I meant.

You need any help?

With what?

You figured it out yet?

What's that?

Who's the best pilot.

You know, I think I can figure that one out on my own.

I heard that about you. You like to work alone.

Mav, you must've sold under a lucky star, huh? I mean, first the MiG, and then you guys slide into Cougar's spot.

We didn't slide into Cougar's spot. It was ours, okay?

Yeah, well, some pilots wait their whole career just to see a MiG up close. Guess you guys are lucky and famous, huh?

No, you mean notorious. See you later.

You can count on it.

Motherfucker, Pete wants to climb him like a goddamn tree. Notorious with that smug fucking grin and the goddamn toothpick. If they hadn't been in mixed company, Pete might have said something phenomenally stupid.

Who's he kidding? It's only Nick's elbow in his side that lets Kazansky leave without one of Pete's horrible pickup lines in his ears.

There be trouble, Mav.

There be fun, Goose.

He steers Pete towards a stunning blond at the bar. She's not as tall, but she's fit, lusciously curvy, with a head full of blond curls.

Twenty bucks says she shoots you down.

She's just as attractive and a lot less trouble than the blond in the Navy uniform that looks like he isn't going home alone anyway. Kazansky didn't even make it three steps before he had a woman on each arm.

Nick's never had an issue with Pete's tastes, as wide and varied as they are (they make no sense, is what Nick actually says), but he's more concerned about the future of Pete's career than Pete is most days, so if he says danger danger, Pete listens.

Mostly.

He changes course and slides up to the bar, brushing his arm along the blond with the curly hair and pouty smile. God, she is pretty, and Pete might have been leaning towards a hard body for the night, but she'll do just fine.

If she wanted him.

Which, apparently, she does not.

Nick buys him a beer in apology.

The next day just proves Pete should always, always (never, ever) listen to Nick.

Now he's got two blonds to worry about, and they're both out to get him. 

Excuse me, Lieutenant. Is there something wrong?

Yes, ma'am, the data on the MiG is inaccurate.

How's that, Lieutenant?

Well, I just happened to see a MiG-28...

We!

Sorry, Goose. *We* happened to see a MiG-28 do a 4G negative dive.

Where did you see this?

that's classified.

It's what?

It's classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

Lieutenant, I have Top Secret clearance. The Pentagon sees to it that I know more than you.

Well, ma'am, it doesn't seem so in this case, now, does it?

So, Lieutenant, where exactly were you?

Well, we...

Thank you.

Started up on a 6, when he pulled from the clouds, and then I moved in above him.

Well, if you were directly above him, how could you see him?

Because I was inverted.

Bullshit.

No, he was, man. It was a really great move. He was inverted.

You were in a 4G inverted dive with a MiG-28?

Yes, ma'am.

At what range?

About two meters?

Well, it's actually about one and a half, I think. It was one and a half. I've got a great Polaroid of it, and he's right there, must be one and a half.

Was a nice picture.

Thanks.

Lieutenant, what were you doing there?

Communicating.

Communicating. Keeping up foreign relations. I was, you know, giving him the bird.

You know, the finger.

Yes, I know the finger, Goose.

I'm sorry. I hate it when it does that. I'm sorry. Excuse me.

So, you're the one?

Yes, ma'am.

I am the one, Pete thinks. I'm always the one. And sometimes, it's not even on purpose.

It is thrilling to have her look at him like that. Hungry and critical and curious. It's always thrilling to be the center of someone's attention. It's been so rare since his mother died, and Nick, for all his huge heart, should only look at Carole and Bradley like that, Pete thinks.

Then, he makes the mistake of glancing back.

Tom's chewing on a goddamn pen now, flashing a smirk and a wink at Pete when their eyes meet.

Son of a bitch.

He knows exactly what he's doing. 

Not even Nick's elbow in his ribs can make Pete stop smiling. 

Pete keeps talking to Charlie. Flirting and smiling and generally being an attractive pain (it's his strongest skill set). 

He keeps talking to Kazansky, too. Who quickly becomes Tom, as Iceman becomes Ice. He doesn't have to try as hard talking to Tom. It helps that they have the same base languages, flying, and the uniform. Charlie, for all her time and experience, isn't in the same place. She's different enough to be interesting, where Tom is similar enough to be comfortable. 

Pete and Charlie debate maneuvers and restaurants, make honeyed promises that may never come true, but it seems more likely with every conversation.

Pete and Tom talk techniques and share stories about people they have in common, and argue over what makes one tactic better than another. They fight in front of the others and flirt in the same breath, and the most they get in response are rolled eyes and sympathetic glances for Goose and Slider, who have taken to commiserating together in the corners and making ridiculous bets on their arguments. 

Pete follows the appropriate steps with Charlie, recognizes that she's dragging it out, and might still decide he's not worth the trouble.

Tom is much less circumspect. He might not say it as loudly as she does, but it's crystal clear in its own way. The way they always come back together no matter how heated their arguments or how much they shove one another around in the locker room. Held in orbit around one another by their classmates and friends and work. Pete and Charlie might end in a ball of flame and never see one another again, but Pete and Tom will be seeing one another around for at least another decade or two.

Their first exercise is interesting, to say the least, and Tom can't help but smirk at Pete when he and Nick are waiting outside Viper's office, listening to the ass-chewing they're going to inherit in a few minutes.

Breaking the hard deck and buzzing the tower is a very Pete Mitchell way to kick off the course. Tom buys them both a drink that night, Nick out of sympathy, and Pete as a taunt.

And Pete can't resist a taunt. Nick abandons them to play pool with Ron when Tom and Pete get into a heated debate (re: argument) over the training value of even having a hard deck and the battle between safety and success. Hollywood and Wolfman show up late and start to join them and then quickly change course when Pete starts waving his hands and Tom snaps his toothpick in half. 

They end up so engrossed in their argument that Nick and Ron leave them there until the bar closes, and they get kicked out.

Although Nick brings them coffee in the morning as an apology.

It's the first time they come close to letting it happen. To turn it into something physical. Tom's face in the weak light of the streetlamp as he leans against Pete's bike and laughs at his steadily getting weaker arguments is so beyond striking that it sends a frisson of something up and down Pete's spine.

And the shadows cast across Pete's face ignite a heat in Tom's belly that seems to have no interest in fading away. 

It's only the realization that it's two am and they have to be up in three hours that stops them from jumping off that cliff.

But the awareness stays through that day and the next. Pete's flirting with Charlie is muted, his eyes resting far more on Ice than her, and Tom shivers with pleasure when he realizes.

He likes Charlie; she's nice and seems to know what she's talking about, but, well, it is nice to win in the battle for attention. It makes him feel shitty that he likes it, and he forcefully reminds himself that it's only human. There's no sign that Pete and Charlie could be anything serious, and Pete, for all his dedicated flirting, still focuses most of his attention on Tom. 

Brings his questions and comments about the subject matter to Ice before he takes them to Charlie or Jester, or any of the other instructors.

Being desired is nice. Being trusted is better.

They work through the scenarios together and somehow always come up with wildly different plans. Tom's are almost always successful, which makes him preen, but the smaller number of Pete's that win the day always do so in a truly spectacular fashion.

They realize something a few weeks in.

They're both deadly, elite, unstoppable. 

Maverick is a grenade, fragmentary and all-encompassing. Iceman is a bullet, high-caliber and high-powered. 

Mav is hot, and Ice is cold, and they're so, so different.

But they aren't really.

At heart, they're two boys desperate to fly. Desperate to grow wings for different reasons, but the desire is all the same. He wonders if that's why Viper turns a blind eye to their fighting. He favors Pete. That's obvious, and Tom's heard the rumors, and Viper doesn't hide that he flew with Mitchell Sr. 

He must have been a hell of a man to still have Viper's complete loyalty all these years later.

That explains his son, too, because for all his faults and all the shit Tom gives him about being unsafe, Pete Mitchell is loyal as fuck, devoted, and he tries. He tries so hard, and Tom sees it, and it breaks his heart a little bit. 

None of Tom's family tried that hard. They all wrote each other off when they stopped being useful, and none of them found Tom valuable to begin with.

Pete does, though, and it's gratifying. They don't have a history like Tom and Ron or even Tom and Nick. They just looked at one another across a crowded room and knew immediately.

This is my equal. This is my opposite. We will be good together.

And they are.

It's only a few days later that they finally fall together, and it's just a blur of skin and heat and murmured prayers. Of fingers that grip so tight, they leave the first bruises out of love that either of them has ever born.

They break a table, knock over a chair. Pete can't feel his feet, and Tom can't catch his breath, and it's so wonderful they do it again right there.

Then they get up and go to class, and Maverick leaves Hollywood hanging and gets them both shot down. It doesn't stop them from coming together again that night, and Pete even quietly admits in the darkness that he feels bad. That he might have made the wrong decision, and Tom walks that fine line of agreeing and disagreeing because a pilot with no confidence and no instinct is deadlier than one that makes the wrong decision quickly.

There's a tiny part of him that's smug that Pete comes to him with these feelings instead of Charlie, but he doesn't notice it for a while. He wasn't paying attention. Too caught up in the taste of his skin and the heat of his touch.

The rest of their class isn't stupid, but aside from a few cruel remarks, their core group of friends is strong enough that it never gets out enough to be a problem. Tom thinks Viper has even picked up on it, and god knows the world's not friendly towards that kind of thing now, but the military's always been an odd place of contradictions, simultaneously discouraging it and ignoring it if the people involved are useful enough. 

Tom and Pete are lucky enough to be very, very good at what they do, and even Pete, for all his impulsiveness and risk-taking, stays under the radar enough in this.

The first inkling Tom has that he's in over his head is the day after Pete takes Charlie to the bar with Nick and Carole, and Baby Goose. He hears about it second-hand, something about a piano (Nick's signature move) and a declaration of love (or, as they later learn, Carole, fucking with Charlie).

Nick invites him around the next day, lunch and playtime with the family at home, and Tom spends the afternoon and evening trading a giggling Bradley Bradshaw back and forth with Pete while Nick and Carole laugh at them and cuddle.

Bradley Bradshaw (and god, Nick, what are you trying to do to him? That's what I said! Shut up, both of you, it's cute!) might be the most adorable thing to ever walk the Earth as far as Tom's concerned. Fat cheeks and clumsy limbs and bright eyes, he's always reaching for something. For a toy, for a snack, for something he's not supposed to have, for Pete, for Tom, for his dad and his mama. 

The majority of their visit (and let's be honest, you invited us over to babysit. I don't know what you're talking about) is spent grabbing Bradley before he grabs something dangerous.

Tom hasn't spent much time around small children, and he's exhausted from nerves alone long before Pete is. He falls asleep on the couch with Bradley, and apparently, there's a picture of them that Pete keeps hidden away. When he wakes up Nick and Carole have gone out for dinner at Pete's insistence, and Pete climbs onto the couch with them, and they spend the rest of the evening in a tangle watching cartoons.

That's when Tom starts to get the inkling that this might before more serious than he thought.

It hits Pete the day of the volleyball game. With Tom running around in cut-offs and kissed by the sun and those stupid aviators and that stupid smile. 

The fucker.

He knows what he looks like.

He knows what he's doing to Pete.

He always knows. 

And Pete knows. 

Pete knows that Tom knows that Pete knows that Tom knows!

AND IT DOESN'T STOP IT FROM WORKING.

Ice is an adult, most of the time.

Unless Mav is around.

Then it all's fair in love and war, and Pete's going to throw him down in the sand and make him beg for forgiveness for torturing Pete so much that he completely forgets he has dinner plans with Charlie.

He remembers, of course, because Ice pointedly glances at his watch. He's a good friend before he's anything else.

Pete sleeps with Charlie, and it's romantic and beautiful and just like what they show in the movies, and he leaves the next morning as easily as he always does.

Maverick has a much harder time walking away from a debate with Iceman the next afternoon, despite the significant looks Goose is giving him and the eye-rolling from Slider.

He doesn't resist the urge to press Tom into a dark corner of the parking lot and kiss him after everyone else has left the bar.

They watch Bradley so Nick and Carole can go out. Pete disappears for dinner with Charlie a few times but always comes back to Tom and Bradley, and it takes him a while to notice that it's so much easier to leave her than it is to leave Tom. He likes their little weekend family more than he likes romantic dinners and passionate rolls in the sheets with Charlie.

He does a very, very good job of ignoring this fact.

Until Nick finally corners him one day and makes him say it out loud. Doing so makes Pete's hands shake, and he has to sit down and put his head between his knees.

Pete is out of his league, and he knows it. Tom's going to be an admiral someday. Saluted and respected by every sailor they've got, Pete'll be lucky to make it to retirement.

She's beautiful, sharp, doesn't make mistakes. She's like a walking encyclopedia of flying.

And Nick somehow manages to despair and laugh at the same time.

Dude, you're talking about Iceman, not Charlie.

Ice isn't beautiful.

Yeah, he is.

What's Carole think about that? (Mav's getting desperate, but Goose just looks like the cat that got the canary and the cream)

She agrees. Something about his ass in the uniform. Says it's better than yours.

The hell it is. I thought you liked Charlie?

I do. But Tom's better, and you know it.

Nick lets him go after that. Taking pity on Pete, who is so clearly not ready for this realization. He spends the night at Charlie's but can't stop himself from comparing her to Tom in his head the entire time. She notices something is wrong but drops it after the first time Pete assures her it's nothing.

Tom wouldn't have dropped it, he thinks, would have dug and dug until Pete lost control and actually told him.

Pete's not stupid enough to think Charlie would still be around if he did that with her.

The more he thinks about it, the more he calms, the more he realizes that Nick's right. Pete could marry Charlie, settle down and have kids, or be recognized in their circles as the power couple du jour and ride the wave until they're both too old to stay up.

Or Pete could have Tom if Tom wants him. Could have arguments over techniques and tactics and aerodynamics and who's math is better. Could be careful who knows and limit who they invite over for holidays and who could show up as an emergency contact. 

Even common-sense Wolfman doesn't understand why Pete's leaning towards Tom. Or at least he says he doesn't, but he doesn't try to talk Pete out of it either.

Neither does Viper when Pete works up the courage to obliquely ask him about it one night. He just asks Pete what he wants, and when Pete can't answer, he reminds him that people want different things. That what works for one doesn't work for another, no matter how similar they might seem.

Pete's parents had that same decision when they got together; he confides that they worked it out because they wanted to. 

That's what matters in the end.

How much you want it? How much work you're willing to put in? 

Because that's what it really takes, don't kid yourself; a relationship is work before it's anything else. If it feels easy, it's because you don't care. 

Viper and his wife have been together since high school, and they still have to work things out sometimes.

Ron thinks he's over-complicating it, which is apparently funny? There's something he's holding back because it's not his place to say, but he does tell Pete he's a coward if he takes the easy way out.

Hollywood agrees, but only because, objectively, Ice is hotter than Charlie. Pete doesn't quite know what to do with that, even though he agrees.

Carole votes for Ice, Tom, and it's not just because of how he looks in a uniform. She says Pete laughs more with him. He's too serious with Charlie. Carole is a firm believer in humor being the real romance, and seeing her with Nick, it's hard to argue.

But Pete's always envisioned it as something more serious. It has gravitas. Like his parents. Something to inspire awe and respect. 

He has a hard time equating that to humor.

They babysit Bradley again, this time with Nick and a few others, Hollywood and Wolfman, Merlin and Sundown. Carole goes away for a girl's weekend, and they last a few hours before it becomes clear a bunch of grown men are disasters.

They lose Bradley (Tom and Nick refuse to admit they lost him, insisting he's just playing somewhere else the entire time), and Pete freaks out. Nick's been a dad long enough not to worry too much. The doors are closed, and Bradley can't open them yet, so he's somewhere in the house. 

Tom's just too proud to admit he lost a two-year-old.

The others are by varying degrees mildly concerned and highly amused at Pete's panic, but they all help look, and two hours later, everyone is suitably impressed with Bradley's ability to hide.

Nick checked the doors three times, so there's no way he's outside.

It's Tom who finally convinces him to come out, offering a bribe of ice cream with chocolate sauce, and Bradley holds out for all of two minutes before he crawls out of a drawer; they were all convinced he couldn't fit in, let alone open.

They find him five minutes before Carole calls to check in, and despite oaths of silence, she finds out weeks later about the whole thing anyway (she thinks it's hilarious).

He thinks Tom has noticed, but he hasn't worked up the courage to ask for sure. Sometimes he catches him watching Pete out of the corner of his eye, his expression something soft and warm. Other times he doesn't even try to hide it, watches Pete with such a heated, heavy gaze that Pete feels it like a weighted blanket. It makes him sluggish, relaxed, heated. 

It makes Pete want to sprawl out in the sun and just soak it all in. Let it sink into his bones and boil the marrow. It feels like it does when Tom's body is pressed against him when the heat of his tongue leaves trails of fire across Pete's chest right before it heads south and makes him lose his mind.

Pete gets oddly introspective one day in class when Tom and Charlie get into a debate (argument, even though they both say they're too adult to argue in a professional setting) about acceleration and turn ratios and risk versus reward. His eyes, along with everyone else's, flicking back and forth between the two blond powerhouses in their midst. Charlie's arguing theoretics, and Tom's arguing real life, so most of them agree with him, which only fires Charlie up more. Pete has a hard time believing her when she says most students don't argue with her because no one in the military trusts civilians over their fellow servicemen when it comes to how to do their jobs.

It pisses Charlie off. She's told Pete numerous times she's never been challenged by students before, but privately, Pete thinks she means she's never lost arguments with students before.

Tom agrees, but somehow, despite Pete being the one dating her, he's still her favorite in class.

Pete's even seen her flirt with Tom, which never fails to make Nick laugh hysterically about the situation Pete's in. 

And Pete does feel bad, sleeping with them both. Tom knows, but Tom also knows Pete's dating Charlie, and they're just friends.

Pete's not stupid enough to think Charlie would be as okay with the situation as Tom is, and it makes him feel bad, but the idea of never touching Tom again…

Of possibly never speaking to him again makes Pete's hands shake. Makes a knot in his stomach form so tightly that he can't even swallow. 

Pete watches their hands as they argue. Tom's strong, firm, scared from a hundred little things. Charlie's smooth, soft, elegant, and unmarred. They feel so drastically different against Pete's skin, clasped in his own hand.

One makes him feel like the protector, her hand so small in his.

The other he can grasp as tightly as he needs, an equal.

Pete's father always protected his mother. Always held the umbrella for her, carried the heavy bags, fixed the car, and took out the garbage. 

Tom fixed Pete's motorcycle a few weeks ago and laughed his ass off when Pete tried to carry all the groceries. 

Nick and Carole don't think Pete is being an asshole, thank god, but it doesn't completely assuage Pete's guilt. They don't think things with Charlie are serious enough to be exclusive. Carole especially says there's no expectation until they've talked about it, and Pete actually tried to broach the subject with Charlie once, but she hadn't been ready to talk about it. 

She even asked him where this was coming from, but in what was probably the wisest decision of his life, Pete doesn't say it's because he's had the strongest urge to take Tom out to a nice dinner somewhere with candles on the table and wine he can't pronounce. 

He's starting to think Tom would say yes. 

And isn't that the most thrilling thing Pete's ever imagined.

He finds an old picture of his parents, not the one of his father he keeps in his wallet, but one that stays in his important papers file, of his father and his mother one Sunday afternoon before Pete was born, and the few wisps of courage he's gathering scatter. 

It turns out that for all Maverick's reckless bravery, he's not the brave one.

Tom shows up at his house later that night, when Charlie's gotten mad at Pete for siding with Tom, and he hands Pete a bottle of wine he can't pronounce. 

They end up sprawled on the couch on Pete's back porch, sipping $200 dollar wine out of solo cups and watching the storm that canceled their flights that afternoon.

They had a round in the kitchen before coming outside, and they're both pleasantly boneless and relaxed and slightly buzzed from the wine when Tom starts talking.

He makes Pete promise not to give him an answer tonight (he regrets that later when Pete confides that he would have said yes with no time to think about it) and asks if Pete thinks this could go anywhere serious. 

If he might want Tom on a more regular basis, one that could last years instead of the few weeks they have left at Top Gun. 

Something that might look more like Nick and Carole than Ron and his girlfriend of the month. 

Tom doesn't put himself in situations that could hurt him. His sense of self-preservation is the strongest Pete's ever seen in someone, and Pete knows being the one to bring this up is costing him. 

Pete agrees to think about it and spends the rest of the night trying to erase all of Tom's fears. 

He doesn't know their names yet, but eventually, he memorizes them all. 

He fights with Charlie.

Jesus Christ, and you think I'm reckless? When I fly, I'll have you know that my crew and my plane come first.

Well, I am going to finish my sentence, Lieutenant. My review of your flight performance was right on.

Is that right?

That is right, but I held something back. I see some real genius in your flying, Maverick, but I can't say that in there. I was afraid that everyone in the TACTS trailer would see right through me, and I just don't want anyone to know that I've fallen for you.

And Jesus, isn't that flashy and powerful and distracting. 

Tom knows the moment Pete's going to pick Charlie.

Neither of them notice him, but he catches their exchange in the parking lot, completely by accident, and its everything Pete deserves and not nearly enough all at once (also, who the hell is that flashy?).

He's not stupid. Or deaf. He knows the other guys call Charlie a female Iceman, comparing the two on everything from looks to knowledge to attitude. And they're assholes because they sometimes do it where she can hear.

Pete gets the best of both worlds in that case, which makes it slightly easier to swallow.

Even though there's still a crippling sadness that settles in Tom with the realization that he didn't get picked. He's not surprised, mind you, a piece of him always knew he wouldn't be, but he screwed up his courage and borrowed hope and tried anyway. 

Ron was right. He would have regretted not trying more. And Tom was right, too; it still hurts.

They're still friends, rivals, they always will be regardless of where Pete takes things with Charlie. All Tom really hopes is that she never realizes he and Pete were more than friends for a little while, because there's never a guarantee for how people will react to that. She's too good a person to report them, but it's horribly possible they'll end up trapped in a bitter, angry thing that just looks like a relationship.

Tom's seen enough of those to never wish that one anybody.

It's better to just be alone, he tells himself. He can focus on his career, the only thing that's guaranteed to make him happy, and have a few more dalliances along the way. Enough to stave off the loneliness for a little while. 

Ron gets upset when he tells him this plan, mutters something Tom doesn't completely catch about idiots and brain damage from g's, and who lets them fucking fly a multi-million-dollar aircraft.

Nick just looks at the sky for help, and Tom leaves him alone. It takes a lot to try Nick's patience, and he doesn't fancy being one of the few who succeeds. 

Tom makes the decision without even talking to Pete. Maverick is hot-headed and emotional, and Tom wouldn't put it past him to change his mind if he thought Tom was hurt. 

He's not going to let Pete make that mistake.

He steps back.

He wasn't expecting Pete to notice at all, let alone so quickly.

His anger surprises Tom and leads to their first real fight and Tom feels it like a lost limb when Pete doesn't even look at him in class the next day.

But he doesn't deny that he's picked Charlie.

Nick dies before Pete gets his shit together, and no amount of trying to conjure ghosts brings him back. 

All that bravery Nick was trying to help him gather evaporates like smoke.

It takes him a while to realize he never needed it. Tom loved Nick just like Pete, even if he didn't show it.

But for now, Pete is a mess. His other half is gone, the wife he left behind will never recover, and his child will never know his father.

Pete's hands won't stop shaking, and he can't look at himself in the mirror. The logical part of himself that he never listens to knows it wasn't his fault. A one in a-million chance of a defective cockpit ejection system. But it's not enough to remove the guilt that Pete survived and Nick didn't. That Pete's going to have to explain to Bradley one day how he got his father killed.

He's never been scared to get into a plane before, but for the first few days after the wreck, even the thought is enough to have him bent over the toilet.

There's a brief period where he's truly convinced he'll never fly again.

It doesn't last very long. Carole slaps him when he mentions it and tells him he'd just be dishonoring Nick if he did that.

Tom tells him the same thing, and he isn't anywhere near as nice about it. He also refuses to stay the night in the hospital when Pete asks, but Charlie shows up a few minutes later, so it doesn't matter in the end.

She sits with him quietly. She didn't know Nick well. Doesn't really like Carole or kids. She's never lost anyone the way Pete lost Nick. Not even close, but Pete appreciates her presence, even when he can see her patience fraying.

The day he's released from the hospital, the rest of the class has a private memorial service for Nick, and they all get drunk in the way only soldiers mourning one of their own can. Pete doesn't remember what happened after the first few shots, but he wakes up with Tom, and it's the first time since the crash that he feels somewhat stable.

It doesn't last.

Tom and Ron take the trophy, which, according to most of the class, isn't a surprise. It was only ever going to be a matter of how points behind Pete and Nick were and given that his instincts have completely disappeared every flight since, the only real surprise is that Pete isn't dead last in the class.

He wasn't even going to show up at the ceremony, except Tom emailed him a picture of the trophy with Nick's name on it, and he couldn't not go after that (Tom never tells him that the schoolhouse had taken Nick's name off and then put it back on when Tom, Ron, and most of the class had thrown a truly epic fit and Merlin and Sundown had refused to have their names in his place).

Pete watches Tom accept the trophy in the bright California sunlight, his uniform so white it's blinding. 

He leaves before anyone sees him and spends the rest of the day in bed with Charlie, who doesn't ask questions and offers comfort with her body instead of her words.

Pete never realized how much the words meant.

The Enterprise makes Pete seasick for the first time in his life. He sees Tom watching him, though he's subtle about it, and he wants nothing more than to stow away in Tom's bunk and pour out all the words no one else seems to want to hear.

Words that would get him kicked out if the wrong people heard.

He knows Tom talked to Stinger and isn't surprised at all when he gets put on support instead of the mission and watches Iceman, Slider, Hollywood, and Wolfman take off with clammy hands and a racing heart.

Six MiGs.

Jetwash.

He left Tom behind.

Pete came back.

Tom's never had such a strong urge to throw caution to the wind and break all the rules, and thankfully, Ron has enough common sense to talk him back in before they land.

They buzz the tower instead and shake hands on deck, and Tom pretends his heart hasn't just broken all over again.

Maverick is back. Pete will be okay.

And Tom won't be there to see it.

~tbc~