CHAPTER 2

Marine Corps Air Station Miramar - April 14, 1985

With the blood in their veins hotter that that Californian sun sitting through the 45 minutes of lectures, while their jets waited outside the hangar, was as excruciating as going through puberty. It seemed like forever. Maverick wanted to finally fly!

Chipper was trying to not fall asleep in his seat behind Maverick's back. He was putting his shades on and then took them off, like he couldn't decide what annoyed him more, the sun or the dark shade? He felt sick and nothing helped. To be honest, Mitchell had a hangover too… They all had. Only Iceman seemed as prim and proper as ever. And – also as ever – he was staring. He was wearing a blue polo under his suit and it somehow matched his cold blue eyes. What kind of guy picks his clothes like that? He put his shades on, even though he didn't have bloodshot eyes like the rest of them. He probably just wanted to hide the fact that he WAS once again staring at Maverick. Pete could feel his eyes on the back of his neck burning like an F14's exhaust.

Chipper liked to sit directly behind Mitchell on practically every classes. He would yawn or doodle not even pretending to pay attention. It was nice to have him around. If he wasn't there then Hollywood and Wolfman were. Mitchell was pretty happy with his class; they were all mostly cool guys, even if they liked Tom Kazansky. When the chick he was hitting on the night before turned out to be their civilian consultant specialist Mitchell put on his shades on too. Fuck, just his luck.

It was nice to show off for a bit, talking about his stunt with MiG. Maverick loved those moments. He loved the attention and impressed looks of his colleagues, and Charlie's. He wanted to turn around to see Kazansky's expression but decided against it when he heard the clear "Bullshit!" poorly covered by a cough.

He wanted to punch the asshole. He didn't even care that Charlie confirmed his story. It didn't matter. He was too pissed. He wanted to impress that fucking asshole more than anything but Iceman didn't even give him a chance. Mitchell started to suspect it may be personal, because Tom wasn't such a dick to anyone else in the group. So what the fuck was his problem?

Finally the lecture ended and they were about to get to their planes, but when he was passing the stairs his heart jumped to his throat. Kazansky was sitting on the rail posing like some super model. He looked ridiculous. Maverick hoped he would be ignored but it seemed that it just wasn't his day. The fucker was waiting specifically for him.

"Maverick!"

Pete stopped and waited until Tom walked up to him.

"I'm curious, who was…. covering Cougar while you were taking pictures of that MiG…"

And that was one step too far. His day was shitty even without Kazansky getting into his face, but blaming HIM for what had happened to Cougar was just too fucking much! In the next second he was grabbing Tom's shirt pulling and yelling into his face that he should shut the fuck up because he obviously had no idea what had happened there. He took a swing but suddenly his wrists were pinned to the wall high above his head by a pair of strong hands, and sharp edges of Kazansky's god damned face were taking up his whole line of vision. His blood boiled. No one had a right to manhandle him! Especially not some blond super model trying to play a pilot! He struggled violently trying to yank himself free from the vicious clutches of Iceman's hands, but the bastard was not only taller but also stronger than him. It was so fucking frustrating!

"Coward!"

He spat the word into the face that was way too close for comfort from his own. Iceman didn't even frown. His ice cold minty breath was cooling off Maverick's burning face.

"I won't let you drag me into some childish fight, Maverick. You need to work on your temper."

"Fuck you!"

Kazansky chuckled sending a stronger wave of minty air on Peter's face. Mavrick's heart was trying to jump out of his chest. He couldn't remember when was the last time he was so angry. His hands may've been immobile but he still had his legs, so he tried to kick. Unfortunately all he gained from it was another amused chuckle. Then Iceman stepped on one of his feet, and slid his one leg between Mitchell's, pressing closer. The brunet gasped, losing his footing. If not for the Iceman's hold he would probably slide to the floor. His whole body was shaking and for the first time since his father's death he actually wanted to cry.

"What the fuck do you want, Kazansky?!"

"Work on your complete lack of discipline. Do you really think that arriving here on the first day escorted by the police makes you look good? Makes Top Gun and us look good?"

"Who the fuck cares if you look good! The only thing that matters is how you fly!" And how the fuck did he know about the cop? Did he saw them on that first day?

"And how do you fly, Maverick? You can't even follow simple orders! Do you think it's fun?"

"I fly the best I can and I do what I have to do to win. I don't give a shit about what your textbooks say about it. They don't mean anything while you're up there!"

"They mean a lot. You're just too stupid and too hot headed to use their knowledge so you improvise. You endanger yourself-… and others!"

"Kazansky! What the hell are you two doing?" Jester sounded rather curious more than actually angry.

Tom quickly pulled himself away from the shorter man but still refused to let him go completely. Fights were against the rules and he probably needed rules to even tie his shoes or he would have no clue how to do it. Maverick detested him. So, to pretend they didn't have a fight he let Ice drape his arm over his own smaller form and pull him closer, much too close. Jester didn't look convinced but also still didn't look angry. Pete could've swear that there was a small smirk pulling on the man's lips.

"I was just explaining to our dear loose cannon here how important is following the rules, Sir. That's all."

Maverick tried to yank out of the other man's hold but he didn't get any further than the arms' reach, so Kazansky still had a hold on him, embracing from behind. Maverick's back was pressed tightly to Iceman's torso and the minty breath was now fanning his left ear. A subtle scent of Iceman's cologne hit is nostrils. Maverick would never use this kind of fragrance but he had to admit it smelled good and refreshing, like an ocean breeze; like clean clothes and wet skin and also like…

"Good! Lieutenant Mitchell needs a lesson. Just no bloodshed!"

Kazansky chuckled again and did something unthinkable.

"Bloodshed? No way, Sir. We love each other." And he mockingly pecked Maverick's flushed cheek.

Peter froze. His vision blurred and he wasn't thinking anymore. He yanked himself out of other man's hold and walked away stumbling on air and bumping on walls.

Marine Corps Air Station Miramar

Finally their names appeared on their machines. This was the best chance to show Tom Kazansky who's the best! And it was almost easy to take that shot on Jester and it felt great to gloat later in the locker room. Wolfman was lying in the middle of the place on a bench with his legs spread invitingly and was blabbering on and on. The moment was perfect but very short lived because much too soon the icy duo stepped in, claiming the victory.

No points for the second place. Maverick had enough of being the second. Second after Cougar, second after Ice… He came to Miramar to be the TOP!

"Below the hard deck. It doesn't count." Slider was right, but…

"Hard deck my ass!" …Maverick didn't care. "We nailed that son of a bitch!"

Breaking some rules didn't make their victory taste any less sweet.

"You really are cowboys…" Tom didn't care either. He was the winner and he couldn't care less about Maverick's childish gloating.

"What's your problem, Kazansky?!" Still, pissing Mav off WAS fun, especially that it was so damn easy.

"You are everyone's problem. That's because every time you go up in the air you're UN-safe. I don't like you because you're dangerous."

And of course the idiot was stupid enough to take it as some sort of a compliment. He was a lost cause.

"That's right! Ice-man…" But when he was pissed he was getting that glint in his eyes, and when he was coming closer, just to hiss right into Tom's face, he looked… cute. Kind of…

"I AM dangerous." Maverick dusted Tom's shoulder from imagined dust and patted his shoulders. Why the fuck was he doing that? He was asking for trouble again, but Tom knew better than cause ruckus in the locker rooms, so he settled for a sarcastic smile and snapped his teeth, what earned him an, albeit nervous but wide, smile from Mitchell.

And then for the second time that day Jester interrupted their confrontation calling Maverick and Goose to be chewed up for not following the rules. Tom just smiled once more and patted Pete's shoulder in rather false encouragement.

Bachelor Officers' Quarters at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar - April 15, 1985

Everybody thought that Tom Kazansky was uncaring and as cold as ice. It wasn't true. He liked to play things safe exactly because he cared. You may call him an anal retentive control freak but so far his ways had never failed him.

Maverick was his complete opposite. He was a wild card, a dissenter unable to work with others. But what really scared Tom about the guy was that even though his methods were so wrong - read: different than Tom's - they were working too.

Had Maverick followed Stinger's order to land and left Cougar on his own, Billy's kid would probably be an orphan and Mrs. Cortell a widow.

But from the first glance, back then at the gates of their Station, with everything he did Mav rubbed Tom just the wrong way.

The urge to punish him, to discipline his wild bratty nature was forcing Iceman to act out of character and it irritated him even more than the man himself! It was kind of ridiculous. Normally no one and nothing could make him lose his cool, while Maverick did it with just a mere fact he existed.

The man was as intriguing as infuriating and the combination didn't sit right with Tom. He was impressed by the things Maverick did and he knew that the brunette is one really great pilot, but still couldn't bring himself to accept him. It made his gut twist to even think about it. At the same time the little prick was like a magnet. Tom couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was but made him completely unable to leave Maverick alone. He was actively seeking out any contact with the man he could get, fights mostly. He was looking for reasons to approach him, to fight him, and more than anything, to rile him up. It was so easy to make Maverick lose his temper but it was even better to watch as he tried to stay calm and couldn't. He would blink rapidly, squirm and flush with anger. Iceman couldn't help but taunt him and provoke. It was all he could think about since he got up in the morning….

He already called Cougar twice to ask about Maverick and even though he was tempted to call one more time and learn about his stupid stunts to have more things to tease him about, he couldn't. Cougar was already making weird jokes that Iceman didn't like one bit.

When Maverick tried to hit him he was elated! It felt great to overpower him like that, keep him still, completely helpless. It made Tom's cold blood run faster and get warmer. Damn, it was fun. It could be his new hobby – disciplining Maverick, taming this wild creature. Maybe he should get himself a horsewhip for a good measure?

He had two chapters of the text book to read and analyze but for the life of him he couldn't concentrate. He was restless, lying shirtless on his bed over the text book and wondering what his self-proclaimed rival had been doing. He surely wasn't boring himself to death with any books - after all, he thought they were useless…

Damn Maverick was drawing people to himself (Ice included) and they were coming like moths to his flame. He was burning bright and Iceman didn't like the thought of him burning out all too soon. Live fast and die young kind of guy.

He was too much fun to lose him so fast.

But what could Iceman do to stop him? Nothing… All reprimands would go over his head until someday it would be too late. Maverick was stubborn and childish and Iceman wondered if it was possible to tame him, or if they would have to wait until the man grows up. Would Maverick even live long enough for that with the way he did things? Doubtful.

Since he couldn't study, Iceman decided to get some fresh air, to clear his mind from any unwanted thoughts about the infuriating Pete Mitchell. He grabbed a white buttoned up shirt and put it on along with his shoes and watch, his dog tags dangling beautifully in the wide opening of the unbuttoned top part, on his torso. When he left his quarter the heat hit him hard, so he rolled up the sleeves and put on his shades.

The sun setting lazily over the horizon made their jets look truly beautiful. He breathed in deeply the summer air and enjoyed the smell of fuel and melting tarmac mingled with an ocean breeze. He passed the hangars and walked slowly ahead with his hands in the pockets of his jeans admiring warm shades of heavy clouds .

Then, in the corner of his eye, he caught a sight of short black hair and his body tensed immediately. He didn't want to see Mitchell. He came here to forget about him and he wasn't in a mood for another confrontation.

But the figure wasn't moving like Maverick. This guy's moves were hesitant and uncertain. Tom took a better look and with a great relief he recognized Chipper. He was acting rather strange fidgeting by the door to the garage, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to stand there and watch what was inside from that safe distance or just get in. Tom's curiosity was piqued but just as he was going to shout to the other pilot and ask what he was up to, Chipper seemed to summon up some courage and got inside.

Tom shrugged. This guy's antics weren't worth his time. He started to walk away but some heavy feeling started to form in his guts, telling him that he was missing on something. So, very reluctantly he turned back and walked up to a dirty window to look inside.

There was Chipper, dressed in his flying suit, the top part of it hanging around his waist revealing white T-shirt.

And he was talking to Maverick.

Mitchell was kneeling on the floor, bare knees peeking out through the holes ripped in his jeans. His hands and arms were smeared with motor oil almost up to his bare shoulders, his black sleeveless shirt also looking like it had seen better days. Screwdrivers, wrenches and other tools were scattered all around him and his bike.

Mav dropped the wrench and reached for a six pack of beer he had on the side. He handed one can to his friend and when Chipper took it their fingers brushed… Tom quickly turned around and left.

TBC