The Next Step
folder
S through Z › Top Gun
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
15,514
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Top Gun
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
15,514
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Top Gun, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
End
***
The whole class was ridiculously by-the-book – it was like teaching a room full of walking, talking textbooks or Ice-clones with roughly half the original’s talent. They were only two days in and already he couldn’t have cared less who won, except that he hoped to God that the winner didn’t want to teach.
But then it got better. Not in the sense that the class suddenly became a bevy of flying prodigies, but it got… easier, all of a sn. In. It just dawned on him that really, no matter the troubles he may or may not have had, he was still incredibly lucky. After all, there weren’t exactly too many people he knew could claim to enjoy their jobs completely, the way he did, and he had the distinct – and surprisingly comforting, given the situation – impression that he could still probably get any woman in San Diego of a Friday night, if he felt so inclined. The past didn’t matter. Well, not as long as he didn’t think about it, and it was actually quite surprising how many things he came up with to keep his mind from wandering onto those fddendden topics, from naming all the US Presidents in chronological order to finally finishing that book that Charlie had recommended.
By Thursday, thanks to his miracle cure-all, he was convinced that it was all going to be okay, he was going to cope. In time he’d compartmentalise, tuck away all those memories of Goose and Sean, of jetwash and hit-and-runs, and he’d stow Charlie back there, too – at least he’d push out all the guilt and the thoughts he’d had at the bningning like she might’ve been the one, and maybe one day he could’ve asked her to marry him. Oh, and there’d be a nice little box in the back of his brain labelled ‘five weeks of screwing Ice and words said on a beach in Mexico’. That ought to do it. When he’d got his head sorted into all those neat little categories, he’d be fine. Just fine.
Seeing Charlie on Friday night seemed to prove that he was right; they sat together in the bar and had a few drinks. They chatted and it wasn’t awkward, neither of them brought up their past and neither of them tried anything they might’ve regretted. It all went just as he’d planned, just as he’d thought it would, even though Charlie looked stunning and he was looking devilishly handsome in his whites even if he did say so himself.
He even took her home without incident. Then he went back to his place and fell asleep naming all of the US States alphabetically.
---
The first person he saw on Monday morning was Charlie; she was leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor talking to someone who was just out of view around the corner, a folder under her arm. She must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye because she turned and smiled and gave him this slightly uncharacteristic little wave, so he changed his mind about going straight to the locker room to change into his flight suit and went to say good morning, or words to that effect.
He turned the corner. It took approximately three seconds for his whole plan to fall apart completely. She was talking to Ice, and Ice was smiling.
“Thanks for Friday,” Charlie said, but he barely heard; he was too busy trying not to stare at Ice, who was, incidentally, staring right back at him, the smile now dropped from his face.
“I… I’m sorry, I have to… go,” Maverick stuttered, looking quickly between them both. Then he practically ran away down the corridor in the general direction of the locker room. Until he turned the corner, he could almost feel their eyes boring holes in his back.
He avoided them both for the rest of the day, which isn’t anywhere as easy as it sounds when your jobs are as closely linked as theirs. All through the simulator sessions he was asking himself if Ice was seeing her, and if he was then how could he have missed it? How could Ice have done that to him? And he felt such a fool for not having seen it before. He felt a fool for *so* many reasons, for believing he could really cope. All he wanted to do was ride his bike home at an almost unfeasible speed, order Chinese and watch reruns of MASH ‘til he felt a little more prepared to face the world. Which could definitely take some time.
He ate lunch with Tex Kellerman and talked MiGs. He was starting to wonder just how many staff the Top Gun program could take on, with their seemingly impossible policy of making a teaching post available for all winners who wanted one. Tex had. Maverick had a feeling he’d make a great teacher, but he was quite honestly the last person he felt like talking to right then. Or maybe not the *last*, but he didn’t feel like talking at all, to anyone.
They went up briefly after lunch, sort of pointlessly because all they did was pull a few dives and make it clear that no one should ever buzz the tower under any circumstances, or they’d suffer the wrath of not only the tower chief but Jester and probably Viper too. Then they came back in, changed out of their flight suits and left for the day.
He’d parked his bike in his usual space that morning, and it was sitting there as he left, as usual. However, the figure standing beside it, leaning against the driver’s side door of his own car, was *not* usual. He knew exactly who it was as soon as he saw him and he thought for a moment about turning back, as he stood by the doors. He didn’t turn back; he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wiping his palms against his thighs, then he walked across the lot.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked from a few feet away. He stopped next to his bike and started fiddling with his helmet.
“I thought we understood each other,” Ice said, still leaning against his car door, his hands tucked in behind his back. The stance looked strange, slightly awkward, not like Ice at all.
“I understand perfectly,” Maverick said curtly, pulling on his gloves. He glanced up; Ice was frowning.
“This morning--"
“Yeah, you and Charlie seemed to be getting on real well.” He zipped up his jacket. “We don’t need to have this little chat, Kazansky – I’m perfectly capable of working it out for myself.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
Ice sighed and Maverick straddled his bike.
“You know, I paid for that vacation.”
Maverick frowned at the seeming non sequitur. “You want me to pay you back? Sure, whatever. Just let me go home now and we’ll sort it out tomorrow.”
Ice was frowning now, more deeply. “No,” he said. “I don’t want you to pay me, that’s not what I meant. And I’m not seeing Charlie.”
Maverick gripped his helmet a little more tightly in his hands. “So what *did* you mean?” he asked, ignoring the Charlie element completely. Something in Ice’s look told him that was completely unimportant, beside the point.
“I meant, half the base knows I took you and Carole on vacation,” he said. “I don’t know how, but somehow… look, I’m sorry if I’ve…”
“Oh.”
“It just wasn’t a great idea for us to…”
Maverick felt all the blood draining from his face. He felt so cold, suddenly – he shivered.
“It wasn’t a good idea for us to see each other last week,” Ice said. “Until things had… settled. I thought you…”
Oh God. He’d really thought…? He’d been torturing himself for this? “I didn’t know. I thought…” He stopped and frowned. Then he smiled, his lips quirking just a little. “I get it now. I thought what I’d said back in Mexico, that I’d said too much. And then last week you were practically ignoring me…”
Ice lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes briefly. “I thought you knew,” he said, and looked at him, right in the eye. “Really.”
The look on his face, half expectant, worried, everything he saw in his eyes in that moment told him *everything* that he needed to know. “Yeah, I get that now.”
Christ, he’d been such a fool. Sitting there on his bike next to Ice, his helmet in his hands, he felt such a stupid, giddy fool. And once he’d started smiling, he just couldn’t stop.
“So, we’re okay?” Ice asked, in that odd, nervous tone that he hardly ever used. “I’ll see you later?”
“You can count on it.”
Ice’s face split in a blinding white grin. “Tonight, then.”
Maverick just sat there and watched as Ice slipped in behind the wheel of his car. He turned the key and the engine roared to life; he started to back away, then stopped.
“You’ll have to take me for a ride sometime,” Ice told him, glancing at the bike. And then he drove away, grinning, not waiting for Maverick’s answer, because he didn’t need to.
Maverick watched him go, his Aston Martin speeding away in the same utter control that he held his place, so steady. It was strange when he thought about it – Ice drove the same way he flew, as if perfectly balanced on the edge of a knife, and though danger lay at either side, he’d never fall. But no one saw that, that life on the edge – they saw the control and not the danger it veiled. No one saw Ice but Maverick. It was a comforting thought.
He rhomehome that night with the ghost-promise of a touch around his waist and a hope in his heart. Maybe they could ride the edge together. There was still a way to go, but maybe everything would turn out right, after all.
***
End
***
The whole class was ridiculously by-the-book – it was like teaching a room full of walking, talking textbooks or Ice-clones with roughly half the original’s talent. They were only two days in and already he couldn’t have cared less who won, except that he hoped to God that the winner didn’t want to teach.
But then it got better. Not in the sense that the class suddenly became a bevy of flying prodigies, but it got… easier, all of a sn. In. It just dawned on him that really, no matter the troubles he may or may not have had, he was still incredibly lucky. After all, there weren’t exactly too many people he knew could claim to enjoy their jobs completely, the way he did, and he had the distinct – and surprisingly comforting, given the situation – impression that he could still probably get any woman in San Diego of a Friday night, if he felt so inclined. The past didn’t matter. Well, not as long as he didn’t think about it, and it was actually quite surprising how many things he came up with to keep his mind from wandering onto those fddendden topics, from naming all the US Presidents in chronological order to finally finishing that book that Charlie had recommended.
By Thursday, thanks to his miracle cure-all, he was convinced that it was all going to be okay, he was going to cope. In time he’d compartmentalise, tuck away all those memories of Goose and Sean, of jetwash and hit-and-runs, and he’d stow Charlie back there, too – at least he’d push out all the guilt and the thoughts he’d had at the bningning like she might’ve been the one, and maybe one day he could’ve asked her to marry him. Oh, and there’d be a nice little box in the back of his brain labelled ‘five weeks of screwing Ice and words said on a beach in Mexico’. That ought to do it. When he’d got his head sorted into all those neat little categories, he’d be fine. Just fine.
Seeing Charlie on Friday night seemed to prove that he was right; they sat together in the bar and had a few drinks. They chatted and it wasn’t awkward, neither of them brought up their past and neither of them tried anything they might’ve regretted. It all went just as he’d planned, just as he’d thought it would, even though Charlie looked stunning and he was looking devilishly handsome in his whites even if he did say so himself.
He even took her home without incident. Then he went back to his place and fell asleep naming all of the US States alphabetically.
---
The first person he saw on Monday morning was Charlie; she was leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor talking to someone who was just out of view around the corner, a folder under her arm. She must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye because she turned and smiled and gave him this slightly uncharacteristic little wave, so he changed his mind about going straight to the locker room to change into his flight suit and went to say good morning, or words to that effect.
He turned the corner. It took approximately three seconds for his whole plan to fall apart completely. She was talking to Ice, and Ice was smiling.
“Thanks for Friday,” Charlie said, but he barely heard; he was too busy trying not to stare at Ice, who was, incidentally, staring right back at him, the smile now dropped from his face.
“I… I’m sorry, I have to… go,” Maverick stuttered, looking quickly between them both. Then he practically ran away down the corridor in the general direction of the locker room. Until he turned the corner, he could almost feel their eyes boring holes in his back.
He avoided them both for the rest of the day, which isn’t anywhere as easy as it sounds when your jobs are as closely linked as theirs. All through the simulator sessions he was asking himself if Ice was seeing her, and if he was then how could he have missed it? How could Ice have done that to him? And he felt such a fool for not having seen it before. He felt a fool for *so* many reasons, for believing he could really cope. All he wanted to do was ride his bike home at an almost unfeasible speed, order Chinese and watch reruns of MASH ‘til he felt a little more prepared to face the world. Which could definitely take some time.
He ate lunch with Tex Kellerman and talked MiGs. He was starting to wonder just how many staff the Top Gun program could take on, with their seemingly impossible policy of making a teaching post available for all winners who wanted one. Tex had. Maverick had a feeling he’d make a great teacher, but he was quite honestly the last person he felt like talking to right then. Or maybe not the *last*, but he didn’t feel like talking at all, to anyone.
They went up briefly after lunch, sort of pointlessly because all they did was pull a few dives and make it clear that no one should ever buzz the tower under any circumstances, or they’d suffer the wrath of not only the tower chief but Jester and probably Viper too. Then they came back in, changed out of their flight suits and left for the day.
He’d parked his bike in his usual space that morning, and it was sitting there as he left, as usual. However, the figure standing beside it, leaning against the driver’s side door of his own car, was *not* usual. He knew exactly who it was as soon as he saw him and he thought for a moment about turning back, as he stood by the doors. He didn’t turn back; he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wiping his palms against his thighs, then he walked across the lot.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked from a few feet away. He stopped next to his bike and started fiddling with his helmet.
“I thought we understood each other,” Ice said, still leaning against his car door, his hands tucked in behind his back. The stance looked strange, slightly awkward, not like Ice at all.
“I understand perfectly,” Maverick said curtly, pulling on his gloves. He glanced up; Ice was frowning.
“This morning--"
“Yeah, you and Charlie seemed to be getting on real well.” He zipped up his jacket. “We don’t need to have this little chat, Kazansky – I’m perfectly capable of working it out for myself.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
Ice sighed and Maverick straddled his bike.
“You know, I paid for that vacation.”
Maverick frowned at the seeming non sequitur. “You want me to pay you back? Sure, whatever. Just let me go home now and we’ll sort it out tomorrow.”
Ice was frowning now, more deeply. “No,” he said. “I don’t want you to pay me, that’s not what I meant. And I’m not seeing Charlie.”
Maverick gripped his helmet a little more tightly in his hands. “So what *did* you mean?” he asked, ignoring the Charlie element completely. Something in Ice’s look told him that was completely unimportant, beside the point.
“I meant, half the base knows I took you and Carole on vacation,” he said. “I don’t know how, but somehow… look, I’m sorry if I’ve…”
“Oh.”
“It just wasn’t a great idea for us to…”
Maverick felt all the blood draining from his face. He felt so cold, suddenly – he shivered.
“It wasn’t a good idea for us to see each other last week,” Ice said. “Until things had… settled. I thought you…”
Oh God. He’d really thought…? He’d been torturing himself for this? “I didn’t know. I thought…” He stopped and frowned. Then he smiled, his lips quirking just a little. “I get it now. I thought what I’d said back in Mexico, that I’d said too much. And then last week you were practically ignoring me…”
Ice lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes briefly. “I thought you knew,” he said, and looked at him, right in the eye. “Really.”
The look on his face, half expectant, worried, everything he saw in his eyes in that moment told him *everything* that he needed to know. “Yeah, I get that now.”
Christ, he’d been such a fool. Sitting there on his bike next to Ice, his helmet in his hands, he felt such a stupid, giddy fool. And once he’d started smiling, he just couldn’t stop.
“So, we’re okay?” Ice asked, in that odd, nervous tone that he hardly ever used. “I’ll see you later?”
“You can count on it.”
Ice’s face split in a blinding white grin. “Tonight, then.”
Maverick just sat there and watched as Ice slipped in behind the wheel of his car. He turned the key and the engine roared to life; he started to back away, then stopped.
“You’ll have to take me for a ride sometime,” Ice told him, glancing at the bike. And then he drove away, grinning, not waiting for Maverick’s answer, because he didn’t need to.
Maverick watched him go, his Aston Martin speeding away in the same utter control that he held his place, so steady. It was strange when he thought about it – Ice drove the same way he flew, as if perfectly balanced on the edge of a knife, and though danger lay at either side, he’d never fall. But no one saw that, that life on the edge – they saw the control and not the danger it veiled. No one saw Ice but Maverick. It was a comforting thought.
He rhomehome that night with the ghost-promise of a touch around his waist and a hope in his heart. Maybe they could ride the edge together. There was still a way to go, but maybe everything would turn out right, after all.
***
End
***