SHAME ON THE BUNNY 10

 Part 1 of The Lies We Told Each Other

Fandoms:
Top Gun (Movies), Thunderheart (1992)

Relationships:
Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Sarah Kazansky/Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Sarah Kazansky/Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Walter Crow Horse/Ray Levoi

Characters:
Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Carole Bradshaw, Sarah Kazansky, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Ron "Slider" Kerner, Ray Levoi, Walter Crow Horse, Grandpa Samuel Reaches, Original Child Character(s)

Additional Tags:
Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy, Secret Relationship, Polyamory, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives

Summary:
He's already used five of the six months of unpaid leave to which he was entitled, but he can't leave Bradley and Jake adrift. They see him as their main father figure in the web of lies they have woven to survive. If he goes now, when they're barely over the loss of Carole, the psychological damage will be irreparable. Also, Ice and Sarah want him to spend more time with Sean.

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Chapter 10: 1998, April

Monday, April 11

Mav runs a finger down his neck, uncomfortable with his tie. The last time he wore his service dress blue uniform was at Carole's funeral, over a month ago. Before that… he doesn't remember. When he was promoted to Commander? It's possible. He doesn't remember when he agreed to this meeting either, really. He only knows that Sarah cut his hair last night, and this morning Ice made him shave, put on his dress blue uniform and told him they were waiting for him at Navy HQ in San Diego.

He assumes they want to talk about work.

What will he answer?

He has already used five of the six months of unpaid leave to which he was entitled, but he does not have the mental capacity to go on deployment. He can't leave Bradley and Jake adrift. They see him as their main father figure in the web of lies they have woven to survive. If he goes now, when they're barely over the loss of Carole, the psychological damage will be irreparable. Also, Ice and Sarah want him to spend more time with Sean. "It's important that you be present during his first five years to forge a lasting bond," Sarah told him in her most serious voice. Ice supports her: "Now he only associates you with his Mom's disease, Mav. You have to create good memories."

Yes, all of that is true, but - as Richard Abbot told him - Pete "Maverick" Mitchell doesn't have much to trade. He is a Navy commander and a talented aviator with a long record of insubordination. He is only good at flying dangerous missions, like his father before him. Now that Top Gun is in Fallon, he can't even consider asking Viper for an instructor position.

After the covert operations in Bosnia, he had three months off. In the fall of 1996, he was promoted to commander -oh, that must have been the last time he wore this uniform- and was assigned to the Persian Gulf to maintain control over the southern Iraq no-fly zone after the invasion of Kurdistan by Saddam Hussein's forces.

At least he spent that Thanksgiving dinner at home.

Aerial surveillance is a thankless and exhausting job. When you're a squad leader, responsibility for other lives adds to the stress of the watch. When he had completed ten of his eighteen months of mission, the notice came that Carole had cancer. It was the first time he noticed the power that Ice had accumulated on his way up: in less than a week, the documentation for his temporary demobilization for family reasons had been completed, reviewed, and approved.

Now that he must return to the service, he cannot imagine what position he will be assigned. And if he quits?

It's a scenario he's considered twice before: after Goose died in 1986 and when Jake was born in 1991. In both cases, Ice dissuaded him. Now... But what will he do if he doesn't fly? Cougar says being a commercial pilot isn't nearly as exciting, and he's expected to be friendly to VIP clients.

He sighs and casts his eyes around the waiting room. The secretary -a redheaded lieutenant- looks at him with something close to pity. As soon as their eyes meet, she averts hers. Of course, everyone knows he was recently widowed, left with two children, and homeless - only the IRS knows who shares ownership of the University City mansion.

How much longer will Vice Admiral Garcia make him wait?

The sound of hasty footsteps catches his attention. The corridor door opens, and two men in civilian clothes enter. The eldest is in his fifties, of medium height, with a broad forehead. He wears wire-framed glasses, a three-piece suit -probably worth more than his monthly salary- and carries a bulging briefcase. The second is much younger, about his age, and has a stocky body and broad face, with lines of expression around his eyes, as if he often frowned -from laughter or concern. He also wears a suit, although more modestly made, and brings a suitcase about fifty by fifty centimeters.

As soon as she sees them, the secretary picks up the phone.

"I'm so, so sorry for the delay, Cindy," the older man says, waving a hand above his head. "An accident at the entrance to the Coronado Bridge, can you believe it? Precisely today!"

"Vice Admiral Garcia is waiting for you, Mr. Coffman."

Mav's eyes widen at the name. Coffman? The CEO of Lockheed Martin? He can't process the surprise because the man turns in his direction.

"Excuse me, too, Commander Mitchell," he says with a contrite face. "We wanted to make a good impression on you, and this happens. Come on, come on, Garcia shouldn't be kept waiting."

Despite the confidence Coffman exudes, Mav looks to the secretary for confirmation. You only enter the office of the Commander of the Navy's southwest region with official permission.

"You may go, Commander Mitchell," Cindy confirms and sees in her eyes that she appreciates the gesture of respect.

Vice Admiral Garcia's office is the size of his first apartment, Mav is sure of it. At the same time, it is warm. The Commander has personalized it. As soon as they enter, Garcia gets up and walks over to them with an affable expression.

"Mr. Coffman, I was beginning to worry."

"My apologies, Vice Admiral. The passage on the Coronado bridge was closed for fifteen minutes due to an accident. And then, of course, you shouldn't speed through a military base."

Garcia nods and extends his hand to the other man.

"Rezabek."

"Vice Admiral Garcia."

Finally, the Commander looks at Mav. To the pilot's surprise, his kind expression does not disappear, it is only tinged with sadness.

"Commander Mitchell, I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances."

"Vice Admiral Garcia, sir," he understands that the man is offering him implicit condolences, but he doesn't know how to respond.

The Commander notices his uncertainty and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"It is okay, son." He turns to the other two men. "Let's sit."

But he does not go to his desk, but to the conference table that dominates the left side of the office, where four places are prepared. Mav sees that one has his name on a fancy badge, several documents, a notepad, and a pen with the emblem of the Navy awaiting him. Garcia sits at the head, and Coffman and Rezabek are in front of Mav. Rezabek carefully puts the suitcase down on the table.

"Since I'm not sure you know each other," Garcia announces, "I'm going to start by introducing you. Commander Mitchell, this is Vance Coffman, CEO of Lockheed Martin, and Rick Rezabek, chief engineer of Lockheed Martin. Gentlemen, this is Major Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, a Navy aviator. He has the Naval Expeditionary Medal for flying inverted on top of a MIG-28 in 1986, I'm sure you heard that story. At twenty-four, he won the Silver Star for saving other pilots in combat and the Air Medal for shooting down three enemy planes. He is the American aviator with the highest number of shot-down enemy aircraft since the end of World War II. He also has the Southwest Asia Service Medal for his performance in the Gulf War in 1990 and the United Nations Medal for his work in the Yugoslav War in 1996."

Only years of hiding who he is keeps Mav from blushing. Viper is the only CO who presented him in such a positive light. Typically, his decorations are listed with astonishment and contempt. His COs never take long to ask him -rhetorically, of course- how he won so many medals with his habit of questioning authority -the misuse of authority, really, but that doesn't matter much to them- and his constant recklessness in the air. But he doesn't say anything. It is evident that García wants to present him as a treasure to the leadership of Lockheed Martin, and he will not contradict him. He is sure Coffman ordered his own investigation and knows why they call him Maverick. It's not a secret.

He just nods slightly.

"Mitchell," Garcia continues. "You are in a delicate personal situation: you have just been widowed, and you have no other family. You can't leave two kids home alone."

He does have family, but he forces himself to nod ruefully and lets the Commander continue.

"At the same time, you are a Navy pilot, your place is at sea. The Navy cares about its pilots and their families; a man worried about what he left behind will not give it his best. He stops being an asset, becomes a liability, a danger to himself and his team. We don't want to let you go, but the risks that your work demands can only be taken when you are one hundred percent in the game. You understand?"

He tries to smile, but a sour grin comes out.

"Yes, Commander, I understand."

"Good, because you are a very valuable aviator with great talent. We don't want to lose you. The question of what to do with you has been circling the admiralty since December when we learned that Carole wouldn't make it."

This does surprise Mav. Since last year? But it makes sense, of course: the pain hasn't been enough to disconnect him entirely from the world, and he knows that at least ten international conflicts are brewing right now that threaten US security. The world has only heated up since the end of the Cold War. He doesn't understand Coffman and Rezabek's presence at this meeting, though.

"I said that "the matter has turned around" because, in reality, there was already a plan, but it is a classified project, so your COs did not know anything. This is where Mr. Coffman and Mr. Rezabek come in."

Garcia makes a gesture, and Coffman takes the floor.

"I assume, Commander Mitchell, that you are aware of the 1994 congressional order to create the Joint Strike Fighter program to replace a wide range of combat aircraft."

He pauses. Mav realizes that this man is waiting for an answer.

"Yes, yes. I am aware."

"Well, and would you also know that, on November 16, 1996, the Department of Defense awarded two contracts to develop prototypes of the proposed aircraft, one to Boeing and one to our company, Lockheed Martin. We have been allocated $750 million to develop the demonstration prototypes and the definition of the preferred weapon system concept. We have until 2000 to go from this," Rezabek opens his suitcase dramatically to reveal the sleek, lightweight model aircraft, "to a real fighter. We want you to help us in the process."

Pete looks from the model of the Lockheed Martin X-35 -beautiful- to the faces of the three men. How do they want him to help them?

"Sorry, Mr. Coffman, but I am not an engineer. I don't understand how I could help you before the plane is a little bigger."

Garcia, Coffman, and Rezabek laugh.

"Mitchell, we have enough engineers," Rezabek chimes in. "What we do not have are pilots capable of flying a F-14 Tomcat on top of a MIG-28 or a F/A-18 Hornet through the canyons of the Balkans. We want you to advise us on the needs of a modern combat aircraft and see if our X-35 lives up to your dreams."

Mav immediately backs down and looks at Garcia in alarm. Is this even legal? But the vice admiral smiles calmly at him and immediately looks at Coffman with an "I told you so" expression.

"We've been warned that you're an extremely honest man, Mitchell," says the Lockheed Martin CEO in a somewhat defensive tone. "I can assure you that this meeting has all the necessary authorizations. After receiving the contracts, I had an exchange with the Boeing executives, and we came to the same conclusion: the person who knows best what a combat plane should be like is a combat pilot. Together, we asked the Department of Defense to let us recruit one pilot, one pilot, for each project. The plan was approved by the corresponding congressional committees in October 1997."

"October of last year? That was six months ago. And you still don't have your test pilot? Anyone would want to help build the fighter plane of the 21st century."

"Yes, yes we do. It's just that he had a family emergency just when we were going to contact him, and we decided to wait."

Pete blinks, confused. Is Coffman hinting that they want him? Lockheed Martin wants to take him to Skunk Works?

"Vice Admiral Garcia?" His voice oscillates between enthusiasm and doubt.

"Yes, Mitchell. It's true. The application came through the House Armed Services Committee on the same day as your application for emergency family leave. When we informed them that you were unavailable, they told me they could wait."

"You could wait?" Mav repeats, turning questioning eyes to the company representatives.

"Of course," Rezabek smiles. "Most of the work now is engineering: modeling parts, doing resistance tests, discussing the optimal size of the fuel tank. We hope to have the first version of the cabin by this summer."

"So we're proposing that you don't return to active combat when you finish your license in April," Coffman sums up. "The agreement with the Joint Strike Fighter program is that you go into the reserve indefinitely and accept our contract as a consultant for developing the Lockheed Martin X-35 concept demonstration aircraft. Once the contest is over, in the spring of 2001, you can rejoin the Navy without affecting your rank. In addition, the economic compensation is significant."

Pete gestures to the X-35 model, and Rezabek slides it across the table into his hands. At least to scale, it has an undeniable elegance, the profile anyone would expect in a modern, high-performance, high-capacity fighter jet.

Mav caresses the wings gently and weighs the situation. He has to stay in San Diego, and this is a great opportunity. The speed at which he returned in November had Ice's fingerprints all over, making him feel bad. Instead, Lockheed Martin's offer is not a gift from his husband but a recognition of his talent and merits. There's no shame in accepting it, right?

This is good for him, but also for the family. Skunk Works is in Palmdale, three hours from San Diego, but the test pilot job won't demand his presence daily. He can stay home with Sarah to care for Brad, Jake, Sam, and Sean. Ice will have complete freedom to go where his career demands. In the spring of 2001, Bradley will be finishing high school, almost ready to leave home. The cekpápi will be ten years old, and Sean six, Sarah will be able to handle them if they deploy him before Ice can return to San Diego.

He really would like to phone home (he knows Ice is off today), but his status as a widower precludes that possibility. And even if Carole were alive, the X-35 is a classified project, she wouldn't have the clearance to discuss it. One only has to look at the thickness of the NDA before him, the first of several documents they surely want to be signed today, to work its way through the snail-style bureaucracies of the Department of Defense and the House Armed Services Committee.

"When do we start?"

Two hours later, as he crosses the Coronado Bridge back to San Diego, Pete realizes that he feels better than he has in years: light and calm. It is due to the Lockheed Martin contract, which will allow him to spend three years at home. Since they had Sean, he has lived in exile from his home to avoid suspicion from the Navy. Now he will be a civilian. Even working on a classified Department of Defense project, the degrees of freedom open to him are -comparatively- vast.

He arrives at the house, parks, and goes up to the main floor, smiling.

"Mavdad has arrived," Jake yells as usual, and three infants rush to hug him.

Ice strolls to him and watches with a slight smile as Pete pretends that Jake, Sam, and Sean can beat him in a tickle match.

"It's time to eat," he finally interrupts, "go wash your hands. And you, Mitchell, go upstairs and take off your uniform. We don't want tomato sauce on it."

Mav gets up quickly and salutes. Three other little hands imitate him.

"Yes, Captain Kazansky, sir," says four voices in chorus.

Ice shakes his head and lets out an exasperated growl but smiles.

"Brad, come take care of these hands, please."

Brad comes in from the dining room, says a hurried “Hi, Dad,” and leads his sunkaku into the bathroom between the two offices. Tom gently pushes Mav upstairs.

Ice must have noticed the change that the new job outlook caused in Mav because as soon as they close the bedroom door, he pushes his husband against the wall and kisses him hard. Pete feels excitement burst in the center of his chest, and he responds enthusiastically. It is the first time this year that he has reacted so quickly to any attempt at sexual contact.

Since December, Pete was so drow in grief over the loss of Carole that their relationship became completely platonic. Sure, he wanted the closeness of their spouses, the implicit comfort and support they offered him through physical contact, but his helplessness in the face of Carole's slow agony pushed sexual desire back to a far corner of his mind. Nothing seemed to be able to get him out of that state weeks after the funeral.

The situation came to a head on the night of March 20, when after a rather elaborate dinner -there are no romantic dinners in a house with a teenager and three children full of energy-a long bath and sending Sarah to the other room, Tom kissed Pete with overflowing passion, and Pete just looked at him confused. Then he realized they were alone, his eyes stopped on the calendar and jumped to his husband's flushed face.

"Oh!" he said in an alarmed tone. "Yes, of course."

Pete sat on the bed and mechanically began to undress. He didn't notice how Ice's face went from surprise to pain, pain to sadness, sadness to understanding. He sat beside him and took his hands before he could remove his pajama bottoms.

"We don't have to if you don't want to."

But Mav broke free and kept going.

"It's our wedding anniversary. Everyone does it on the anniversary, right? I can comply."

"Comply?" Mav is so busy looking for some spark of arousal inside himself that he doesn't notice his partner's tone of surprise and bitterness. He looks at him, exasperated.

"Well, can you decide? First, you kiss me all anxious, and two minutes later, you no longer want to do it."

"I want us to do something that makes us both happy, Mav."

"So we're going to do it? Perfect!" He finishes undressing and gets under the sheets. "Just give me some time to wake up Big Pete, okay? Or better yet," he extends a hand towards Ice and winks at him, "you can use that cute mouth of yours."

The invitation has almost the perfect seductive tone. Almost. But Tom has been studying Pete for twelve years. First, he studied him as an opponent, then as a friend, and finally as a lover. His voice and gesture are perfect, but the tension in his eyes betrays him: Maverick is afraid. He feels guilty because he didn't remember that it was their wedding anniversary and fears Ice's reaction.

It is understandable: he has just lost his sister -Ice will never know everything those three went through before Top Gun- and the traumas that years of neglect and mistreatment left him are returning.

The key is that Mav doesn't hide his fear with distance -he could have said he had a headache- or violence -he could have made an excuse to fight- but is willing to use his body to prevent another loss, unaware of what that choice reveals about his upbringing. Again, he is not surprised to conclude that he would kill without remorse whoever sexually abused the child who was his husband.

But that is a thought for another time. Now the important thing is to get out of this crossroads without further damaging their relationship. Ice runs through a couple of mental scenarios and settles on one that might even give them pleasure if he plays his cards right.

He runs the tip of his tongue over his lips and looks at Mav with genuine desire, even though the other is so deep in his fear that he can't appreciate it.

"I'm thinking of something else. Let's do something new tonight. It's our anniversary, after all, isn't it?"

Mav's smile fades for an instant —so brief that Ice wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been expecting it— but he nods.

"Sure, dear. What do you have in mind?"

"Well…"

Ice leans over to open the bottom drawer of their nightstand and pulls out a box lined with red velvet. He puts it on the bed between them and invites his husband to open it with a gesture.

"My degenerate brother-in-law Walter sent me this for my birthday in December."

Mav lifts the lid to reveal a dildo attached to a pelvic harness. It is clear that the phallus has been created with a realistic goal: the silicone is between pink and beige, almost the exact tone of Tom's skin, the surface is irregular, with thick lines that simulate blood vessels on the surface of the skin and light lines, similar to pubic hair, even the glans is slightly asymmetrical, and when Mav lifts the end with her fingertip, he sees an indentation that mimics the opening of the urethra.

"Wow…"

Curiosity about the gift has made Pete relax a bit.

"There's a note." Ice pulls it out from the box's side and holds it out to him.

"Exact copy of the original," Mav reads aloud. "So you have everything that corresponds to you as a Seresin twin." he looks at Tom in amazement. "It can't be... Is this a replica of Ray's dick? Oh!"

Pete's cheeks redden, and his pupils dilate.

He pulls out the artifact with trembling hands and pushes the case to the floor. He knocks over the nightstand drawer violently and rummages through the contents.

"Where's the lube? Fuck!" He realizes that Ice is looking at him amused, sitting on the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, and his face transforms into a strange mask where desire and shame fight. "What are you doing there without moving? Take off your clothes! Put on the harness, Ice!"

"I don't know," answers the blond mockingly. "I'm tired."

"It's our wedding anniversary," Mav mutters, clearly wanting to scream but not daring. "Everyone does it on their anniversary, and you have a brand new dick. What gives?"

Ice smiles proudly, he likes that Mav asks him to fuck him, but his smug face is too much for the other. In a second, the expression of desire turns into fear.

"Do you want me to beg? Do you want me to fuck myself while you watch? Do you want to fuck my mouth? I'll do whatever Ice, it's our anniversary, okay? Please."

"Hey Hey hey!" Tom interrupts him, takes his face in his hands, wipes the tears with his thumbs, and kisses him softly on the lips. "No begging, no humiliation. We've never done anything like this and we won't start now. I just stood there because you look so cute when you're turned on, Pete Mitchell and I haven't had that sight in months."

"For real?" Mav's voice still has a note of fear.

"For real. I've been wanting to fuck you slowly for days, make you forget all the pain. You're finally in the mood, and yes, my reaction speed was slow. Excuse me. Come on, help me put that thing on." he guides his husband's hands to the waistband of his sleeping pants.

They used Walter's gift very well that night.

The following days were not perfect, but they were better.

Today, after the excellent job offer, Mav feels he can eat the whole world, or at least his husband.

Ice stops rubbing him against the wall and pulls back a bit.

"You accepted?"

Pete smiles, of course, he knew. He is sure it was Tom who set the date for the interview because he honestly doesn't remember talking to Lieutenant Cindy in his life.

"Do you know what it is about?"

"Not the details. Just that it's something classified that they need to demobilize you for, so it has to be some Department of Defense contracting company, and you can stay home."

"They want me to be a technical advisor and test pilot for the Lockheed Martin X-35 concept demo at Skunk Works."

"Mav, that's wonderful! Demonstrations are scheduled for spring 2001. You'll be home for three years!"

He kisses him again.

"Yeah. Who knew that so many reckless flight reports would give us this? So, who is the better pilot?"

Tom pulls away with an amused expression.

"Don't spoil it, Maverick."

Then he walks over to the dresser, pulls out a T-shirt and sweatpants, and puts them on the bed.

"Come on, take off your uniform. Your children, Sarah and Sam, are waiting for us to eat."

"Oh!" Pete says as he starts to remove his tie. "My children? What did they do?"

Tom sits up in bed and sighs.

"They've gotten addicted to that devil track you built in the yard. It's too early for them to drive. I told you!"

Pete laughs at his husband's anguish as he finishes removing his pants.

The electric mini-ATV racing circuit was the project with which he occupied March. He set it up for the cekpápi's birthday party, which was a smashing success. Sam and Jake's entire classroom forgot about candies and balloons to learn to drive child-size ATVs along an obstacle course that takes up a third of the house's large backyard. Mav enlisted Brad, Denise, and Nathan as assistants, and it is a testament to his ability as a teacher and leader that he was able to teach twenty seven-year-olds to drive with just the help of a trio of teenagers and Mrs. Stone -their second-grade teacher.

Although they are only in the second grade, the cekpápi have risen to the top of the popularity ladder at their elementary school. The two weekends that have passed since the party had a patio full of children from all school grades, eager to feel the adrenaline rush of driving a motor vehicle at speeds of up to 5 miles per hour.

"I thought the rules were clear: they can't play with the ATV before doing their chores."

Ice snorts.

"As if it were about that. I caught Brad and Jake trying to take one apart. They left Sean at the end of the stairs, to call if anyone approached the garage. When I confronted them, Brad had the nerve to tell me it was for a school project. Are they your children or not?"

Mav bursts out laughing as he struggles to get his head through the hole in his shirt.

"No," he says and extends a hand to Tom. "They are our children: it would not have occurred to me to put surveillance. That is your coldness Kazansky. Come on, let's eat."