June 17, 1998. Miramar, California.
Maverick stumbled out of the bathroom, still half-asleep after taking the first piss of the day to find Iceman smirking at him from his seat in the armchair that was next to what was formerly Charlie's dresser.
"Morning," Maverick muttered. Iceman was already fully dressed and shaved and it was only, what, seven thirty? You could really get to hate a guy like that.
"Morning," Iceman replied. "Listen..."
Maverick pulled a shirt on. "Yeah?"
"I'll cover your afternoon class for you, if you wanted to go see your kid in the hospital," Iceman said. "Your hop, too."
"How gentlemanly of you," Maverick said, as he did his fly.
"Just an offer," Iceman said gruffly. "No need to..." he made a slightly rude hand gesture.
Maverick rolled his eyes, seizing a bottle of cologne and spraying it all over his throat as he stuffed his browns into a duffel so he could change when he got to TOPGUN.
"I like those jeans," Iceman said, voice husky.
"Yeah?"
"They have a little hole in the ass. C'mere."
Maverick obliged and Iceman pulled him onto his lap, sliding a finger into the hole and fingering Maverick lightly. He nudged Maverick's neck with his lips and drew them up the side of his face. Maverick shifted his weight and he felt Iceman's dick throb gently against him.
Iceman slid his finger out of the frayed hole and ran it down Maverick's thigh. Maverick sucked in a tight little breath and grabbed Iceman by the wrist. "Stop. I gotta - morning class."
"Fine. I need to go home and change, anyway."
Neither of them moved. Iceman's hand was in a very inappropriate place.
Suddenly he stood up and Maverick slipped off his lap. Iceman squeezed his shoulder. "I'll see you later, then."
"Yeah," Maverick said. He glanced at Iceman, who was wearing that frustrated I-really-want-to-have-sex-with-you-right-now-goddamnit look that he knew so well.
"Cologne's a little strong," said Iceman, and he strode out of the room.
June 17, 1998. United States Navy Fighter Weapons School, Miramar, California.
"I'd like to speak with you, Commander."
Maverick waved his hand vaguely. "One second."
Jester shut the door behind him.
"Can we talk in the hall?" Maverick said, getting up and shuffling his stack of papers. "I have to deliver these, to, uh -"
"Langley?"
"Yeah."
"Fine," Jester said. His tones were more clipped than usual. He held the door open for Maverick.
"I got the JAG Corps all over me about this court-martial," Maverick said. "And, uh, I'm gonna be slipping out today for a while to see my son, around two o'clock. Kazansky's taking my class."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"What?"
"Kazansky."
Maverick's mouth twitched. Jester stared pointedly at him.
"Listen, I don't know what kind of fuckin' adulterous, summer of my German soldier bullshit you two are pulling, but it's going to stop. I won't stand for it."
"You can't prove anything," Maverick said. He clenched his fist around the paperwork. "Damnit, Heatherly!"
"Now, you look. No, look at me." Jester nudged Maverick's chin with his knuckle and Maverick slapped his hand away. "There's a reason we have regulations. There's a reason we got DADT, son. We -"
"Don't you dare call me son! I outrank you, you lying piece of shit!"
People in nearby offices stared. Maverick tried to get his breathing under control.
"And don't you start fucking shrieking at me," Jester hissed. "I'm looking out for your best interest."
"How would you even know -"
"You're walking around here with your neck bit up to hell and back, you think I'm not gonna notice? Especially after that little recital you two put on the other day. You're not even divorced yet, Commander, have some goddamn respect."
Jester strode away.
Maverick watched him go and suddenly found himself craving a cigarette.
He had picked up smoking years ago, when his marriage had first started to fall apart and Charlie had begun accusing him of everything from having a short man's complex to daddy issues to emotional neglect. He had only stopped when a little five-year-old Nick came to him, teary-eyed and sniffling, and asked Maverick if he was going to live to see him graduate high school. Nicotine patches had done the trick, but nothing could ever wipe you clean. There was always that urge.
Maverick turned and walked back to his office.
June 17, 1998. Seton Coastside Hospital, Miramar, California.
The PTA had obviously done its job. Maybe with a phone tree or two. Nick's room was soaked in flowers and balloons, cards signed by the entire fourth grade class.
"Hey," Maverick said quietly.
Nick stirred in his sleep and rolled over. "Dad." He looked pale.
Maverick sat on his bedside. "Hey," he repeated, more quietly. "How you doing?"
"I'm okay," Nick said. "Sally Netherfield and her brother came to see me. Their mom brought a duck."
"A stuffed duck, right?"
"Yeah." Nick made a face. "Dad, I think Sally likes me."
Maverick smiled. "Do you like her?"
"Are you kidding? Girls are weird," Nick said.
"How come?"
"They laugh too much."
"You get used to it."
"You didn't," Nick said. It took Maverick a second to get that one.
"Nick, I still love your mother very much," he said, staring at the wall across from him. "We're having a tough time right now. We still love you very much," Maverick added, squeezing Nick's shoulder, and thinking suddenly of Iceman.
"What if she moves away and she takes me and I never see you again?"
Nick's eyes were damp. Maverick had never quite realized how much Nick resembled him until then.
"I promise that won't happen."
"What if it does?"
"Do you want to stay with me or her?"
"I want both," Nick said. His voice wavered and he pressed his hand to his mouth.
Maverick just sighed.