SHAME ON THE BUNNY 13

 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:
It's Sam and Jake's tenth birthday. They go on a road trip, meet a couple of strange men, and fly!
What a great trip!
This April 1st, 2001 is a brilliant memory Ice will cherish when everything inevitably goes to shit.

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Chapter 13: 2001, April

Jake

Jake is lying on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. To his right, Sam makes a noise in her sleep stirs. Jake rubs her back, and she calms down. Brad and Sean's breaths come mingled from the other bed in the room. He knows his older brother has a protective arm over his little brother. Sean fell asleep late last night, excited by the long journey and new experiences. I was crying against sleep. It took the pink bunny and two stories for it to finally drop.

The noises in the room were unusual and woke him up. Jake is used to sleeping alone. He knows he had his own bedroom in the house on the Miramar base, although he only remembers a little about that time. In the house in University City, he also sleeps alone. They only share sleeping space when they go on vacation, so the experience is unfamiliar but not completely new.

He vaguely wonders if Iná and Mavdad slept in rooms like this in foster homes. Although Icepop is also an orphan, at least he had relatives who took him in. Iná and Mavdad not. They went from one foster home to another until they turned eighteen and were thrown into the street. Iná was not adopted because she was not white, and although no one wanted Indian girls, Social Services did not want to return her to the Sioux nation. Jake isn't sure why they would do something so absurd, but his iná explained that it's a special kind of racism.

Jake knows that racism is bad.

Mavdad isn't quite sure why they didn't adopt him - his eyes were somber when he told him - but he imagines it was because he was too old and rebellious.

Jake needs help understanding those reasons, too. He's been taught in school that rebelling against injustice is an American value.

The fact is that it is strange to share a room. Jake knows he will have to do it every day in a few years because he will be a pilot. University dorms are shared. That part will be the same if he goes to Annapolis or a civilian university - as Brad will do - and then the AVROC program. So he's not going to complain. He will stay put until they come to announce breakfast.

Jake turns to the outside side of the bed, reaches out, and runs his fingertips over the polished surface of the helmet, which rests under the bed with the rest of his motorcycle gear.

He smiles at the memory.

He thought this year would be like the previous one: a birthday party at school and a special dinner at home. It was not so. For starters, Icepop didn't return to San Diego for his birthday. Since they live in University City, Icepop has been there for their birthdays. Jake was afraid that Icepop would have finally forgotten them because of his super important job in Maryland, or, worse, that the terrorists had attacked and called him to fight. Icepop could die if he goes into combat, as happened to Grandfather Duke Mitchell.

As they returned home after the party, Jake decided he couldn't cry. If either happened, he would have to be strong to support his iná and his sensaku. It's a good thing he didn't say anything because, in the end, neither of the two things turned out to be true. When they got home, Iná and Mavdad told them they had to pack because they were going on a trip for the weekend. But it wasn't a plane trip, like when they went to Hawaii and New York, but by road.

Yesterday, Saturday, Mavdad woke him up early and revealed that it would be a trip like no other.

"Would you like to go on the motorcycle with me?" -Mavdad asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes shining with mischief.

Jake thought his heart stopped. He opened his eyes wide and started to shout “yes” with all his might, but he remembered…

"Did Iná give permission?" -he asked with fear.

He doesn't want Mavdad to get in trouble with iná Sarah and for her to throw them out of the house. Where would he and Mavdad go? He also can't imagine being separated from his sensaku, bad enough that Brad is leaving for college in the fall.

But Mavdad looked at him with pride, as when he does something incredibly clever and smiled.

"Yes, she gave permission. Bradley will ride the Kawasaki Ninja, and I will ride the Vulcan Nomad. If you want, you can travel with me. When you get tired, you move to the SUV with Iná, Sam, and Sean."

Reassured by that part, Jake threw himself into his father's arms.

"Yes, yes, yes."

Jake has been wanting to ride the Kawasaki forever. His father never looks stronger than on the bike. He has promised himself that he will have one when he grows up. Every time he asks him to go for a ride on the motorcycle, Mavdad laughs, saying that he is still very young. Icepop doesn't laugh but looks at Mavdad with annoyance and complains that Jake inherited a love for "deadly artifacts of all kinds." It's true, Jake likes speed.

The electric ATV was a revelation. He still remembers the power and satisfaction that ran through him when he won the circuit Mavdad built in the yard for his birthday in 1998. He thought nothing could compare, not chocolate or even climbing on Icepop's shoulders. Sam quickly lost interest, but he, Brad, and Sean continued to compete with each other and study how best to use them until July of the following year.

 It was Saturday. The three of them went down to the garage to get their ATVs out into the yard, only to find two of them missing, only Sean's. In its place was a light blue motorcycle with a sign that read "Bradley Bradshaw" and a red electric trike with another sign that read "Jake Mitchell."

Thought ATVs were cool? The trike was the best! After they passed a driving test organized by Icepop, they received permission to go out in the neighborhood if they went with Bradley. They never went very far because the electric motors' range was only three hours, but Jake loved speeding down the hills of San Diego with his brothers!

The only not-so-good thing was that Sam didn't join them. Sam did not inherit Icepop's love for airplanes and things that go fast. It looks like they won't be going to flight school together, and that makes him a little sad, but only a little. Sam wants to heal people, like iná Sarah and mom Carole, and that's great. With three pilots in the family, it is enough.

The fact is that Jake rides his electric trike, and he knows that when he is fifteen, Mavdad will let him use Brad's light motorcycle, but that is five years away, that is, a long time. There was no way he would turn down the opportunity to ride the Nomad.

The journey turned out to be a very, very long one. They left home at eight in the morning. First to the north, following the ocean. When they were almost south of Los Angeles, they turned west, crossing the mountains and out into the desert.

At around one o'clock, they stopped for lunch at an authentic roadside restaurant, with trucks and motorcycles parked outside and rude people sitting inside.

As they entered, a very stocky, bearded man dressed in black looked Jake up and down and smiled. He then drew the attention of other leather-clad men around him.

"Look at that, a young biker," he said.

Jake realized it was an acknowledgment of his protective gear: leather gloves, jacket and pants, metal-reinforced knee-high boots, bandana tied around his head. He puffed out his chest, very proud.

"Do you drive that Kawasaki Nomad?" asked the bearded man.

Jake realized it must be a joke because a ten-year-old can't ride a grown-up motorcycle. Instead of letting out the predictable "No, I'm going with my dad," he raised his right eyebrow and curved slightly upward the same side of his mouth, imitating Icepop's expression of superiority when he put the officers in their place at the San Diego Base and said.

"I'm too important to drive, friend. I'm the kind is drive around."

The entire restaurant erupted in laughter. Later, the waitress told them that the gentlemen at table three —who turned out to be the dangerous-looking leather men— paid for the desserts.

What a great trip!

They arrived at Moapa Valley when the sun was already setting. They stopped on the outskirts of town in front of a small blue house. But that didn't matter because Icepop awaited them on the front steps.

Only his strict training kept Jake from falling to the ground as soon as he stopped the bike. As soon as Mavdad lowered him from the Nomad, Jake threw himself into the arms of his até.

"Icepop, you came."

He felt the chest cradling him vibrating with a deep, sweet laugh.

"Of course I came. How was I going to miss the ten years of my children?"

"Hey, Jake," his sister complained, "I want Icepop to hug me too."

He got out quickly because he didn't want Sam to think he was trying to steal her dad or anything like that. But he managed to see a flash of sadness in ate's blue eyes, and he felt a warmth in his chest when he realized he was not the only one who wanted the hug to last much longer.

Sometimes, Jake thinks that the perfect hug is one with Mavdad and Icepop on either side of him. Jake sleeps peacefully between them. Nothing can reach him there.

He can't bring herself to tell his therapist.

Then, two older men, tall and blond, approached them. One wore a hat, but his long, mane-like hair was sticking out at the sides, and his arms bulged with muscle. The other was very elegantly dressed and had short, upturned hair. It was Brad's turn to jump for joy.

"Uncle Wolfman! Uncle Hollywood!" He ran to hug them.

The men enveloped him, and their smiles turned a little wistful, like when Mavdad talks about Mom Carole or Nick, Brad's first dad.

"Little Goose," said the one with the hat. "You have grown. Ready to fly from the nest?"

Brad said something softly that he couldn't hear, and the men patted him. Then, the fancy one noticed Jake and walked over.

"And who are you?" he asked, smiling.

From how his eyes went from him to the rest of his family, Jake knew this man knew the answer.

"Jake Mitchell," he held out his hand and decided to add, "future US Navy aviator."

The man laughed and shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Rick Neven. I used to fly with your parents. You can call me Hollywood. That" —he pointed to the other man, looking at them while still hugging Brad— "is my partner Leonard Wolfe.

Wolfe strode over and extended his hand to Jake.

"You can call me Wolfman."

"Were you also an aviator?"

"Yeah. We studied together in Top Gun, the class of eighty-six."

Then he stepped back and raised his voice, addressing the entire group.

"Kazansky-Mitchell family, it's a pleasure to welcome you to the Fyrosity Vegas Skytravel. "He gestured toward the house. "We hope that the accommodation will satisfy you."

Over dinner, Jake finally learned the goal of this trip to the heart of Nevada: Jake and Sam are going to fly for the first time on their birthday! Like Bradley flew when he was ten years old.

Wolfman and Hollywood own Fyrosity Vegas Skytravel, an aviation company. They teach civilian pilots and do short private trips and skydiving excursions. Jake can't imagine a better job after leaving the Navy.

Well, no. Mavdad is a test pilot for experimental aircraft. That's great. So, having a flight school is second best after leaving the Navy.

At bedtime, everything was a bit complicated. Wolfman and Hollywood's house only has three rooms. They share the main one, the second room has only one bed, and the last has two. So Icepop, Iná, and Mavdad had to go to sleep together, and he slept with three other people.

Jake thought it was a little strange that two older men shared a room, even if they lived in the middle of the desert and coyotes might show up.

"Brad, why do Wolfman and Hollywood sleep together?" he asked as he put on his pajamas.

His brother pursed his lips and looked at him intently. Then he looked at an indeterminate point on the wall, shook his head, and snorted.

"Because they're boyfriends, Jake."

"Boyfriends?" he repeated, confused. "No way!"

That answer seemed to anger his brother.

"And why not, if I may know." He said it softly to not wake Sean, but his eyes were bright with fury.

"Because they are old, about the age of Mavdad and Icepop. Older people don't have a boyfriends. Older people get married. You are old enough to have a boyfriend. They are not."

Sam gave a mischievous laugh behind him and made kissing sounds. Brad's jaw dropped as if caught off guard by Jake's logic. Sometimes, Brad is a bit slow. But he reverted to his know-it-all big brother attitude fast.

"You're wrong, people can have boyfriends or girlfriends at any age," he pointed a finger at Sam, "after fourteen!"

Their sister snorted and muttered, "You're a killjoy." Jake didn't say anything else. Icepop checked that everyone had put on their pajamas and turned off the light.

Jake doesn't know how long he slept, but he's had enough. However, the sky is still dark, and the house has no noise. He doesn't want to disturb anyone, so he'll stay under the covers until someone else gets up. He's sure it will be Brad, who always wakes up before sunrise. His parents already call him the Rooster.

 

Tom

He opens his eyes slowly. The dawn gloom slips through the curtain, but it's still early, and he wants to enjoy the calm. Sarah and Mav hug him on either side, their smells and sounds like magic against his utter exhaustion. The beginning of 2001 has been brutal at the Office of Naval Intelligence with the inauguration of Bush Junior, the collision of the USS Greeneville submarine with the Japanese training ship, the arrest of Robert Hanssen, the deterioration of the Balkans -again- and … that.

He caresses Mav's shoulder blades. His work with Lockheed Martin will end this month: the X-35 seems to be a dream, although Boeing's X-32 wasn't bad either. The fact is that the test flights are over. The Joint Strike Fighter Force will take six months to decide who to award the contract to, but that won't be a pilot thing anymore. Pete plans to file his return paperwork in July so he can take Brad to college in August before he ships out. His husband is obsessed with fulfilling as many family rituals as possible as a father.

Following their careful planning to avoid too-long coincidences in time and space between Ice and Mav, Tom was supposed to return home in the summer. The plan was for him to be commander of Naval Base San Diego, Naval Air Base North Island, or, worst case, the Naval Weapons Research Center at China Lake. China Lake is five hours from University City, but he might commute home on the weekends. He would have six weeks to spend with Mav before he shipped.

He still hasn't told his spouses he won't be able to. He couldn't turn down the promotion, of course, but couldn't Rear Admiral Wilkes to die at the end of the summer? When Ice was back on the Pacific coast? No, he had to crash into a power pole in the rain and fog last Thursday.

NCIS claims it was an accident, and the Navy is racing to fill the hole at the heart of its intelligence network. Turns out he was the only rear admiral available. They even told him that it was excellent that he had been practicing at the Office of Naval Intelligence for almost three years. Tom swallowed the urge to send the acting Secretary of the Navy far away, smiled, and said, "It will be an honor, Mr. Pirie ."

At least he negotiated for it to be temporary.

Bush should confirm his Secretary of the Navy before the end of spring, so the tortuous process of reassigning or confirming posts at the Admiralty will occur over the summer. Tom insisted that he wants to return to directing a base to "polish" his skills because he is very young and to avoid a divorce because his wife is also young and has -he even managed to blush- needs.

The truth is, Tom didn't spend four years sleeping less than five hours a day to earn his Master's degree in Systems Analysis from the Naval Postgraduate School by distance learning to become an intelligence analyst. They do a great job in Maryland, but it was meant to be a stepping stone, not an end in itself. He wants to go back to commanding people. Fortunately, many share the discomfort that someone under fifty is running the Office of Naval Intelligence and can technically speak where the president can hear.

They're already looking for another unlucky officer willing to run that house of paranoid madness. Personally, Ice believes that only a woman can do it. The same macho bullshit that forces them to play mind games prepares them to shepherd intelligence analysts.

He tangles his fingers in Sarah's long hair and sighs. He doesn't want to leave her alone with Jake, Sam, and Sean, but everything indicates that he won't be home until October if there's no crisis. Also, as commander of the institution, he won't be able to disappear every four weeks, as he could when he was just a glorified writer of combat scenarios in the Department of Naval Analysis.

That's what hurts him the most: his visits home keep him sane. He misses his kids so much… He feels like the first ten years of Jake's life have slipped through his fingers.

He hears footsteps in the corridor and smiles. Wolfman is still an early riser. Time to wake up.

 

Leonard

He is about to start beating the eggs when he remembers there will be nine mouths for breakfast today. He goes back to the fridge to get more of everything. Someone comes to the kitchen. He knows it's not Rick because he doesn't hear the usual "Hey, baby." Still, he is a little surprised as he turns to find Mav leaning against the counter, a pillow mark on his left cheek, blinking, annoyed by the light.

"I see that some things don't change."

Mav growls at him.

"Do you want coffee?"

Mav nods. Leonard waves to the coffee pot across the kitchen, which has just been brewed and returns to mixing ingredients.

He tries to focus, but the sound of the pilot taking his first drink is absolutely pornographic.

"Easy cowboy, there are kids around," he jokes.

"We've got fifteen minutes, at least, trust me." Pete returns to sit nearby with his mug in his hands. "You have no idea how hard it is to get them out of bed. Except Brad, that's like a rooster."

Wolfman nods. He turns on the oven, and a burner takes a frying pan off its hook and puts it on the fire. He begins to arrange slices of bread on a tray.

"Then why aren't you up there helping?"

Pete runs his hand over his face and shakes his head with a sigh.

"Many hands on a plate will make a mess. Ice misses them and wants to spend every minute with them, and Sarah is the only one who understands Sam at this time of the day."

"Women's things?" he asks as he spills oil in the pan.

"Something like that." He leans over the bowl where the egg and cheese mixture waits. "Did you put pepper in this?"

Wolfman raises an eyebrow, puzzled.

"Rick is from Texas, Mav. You're lucky I don't put chili in the water."

"They're not used to it," explains the other. "The food at home is primarily kosher or traditional indigenous."

The oven alarm indicates that it has reached the desired temperature, so Leonard puts the tray with slices of bread. Immediately, he drops the mixture of eggs, cheese, and spices into the pan and stirs it so the cheese does not stick to the edges.

"Can you tell me where the things are?" Mav asks behind his back.

Wolfman answers while keeping an eye on the eggs.

"In the fridge, there is milk and yogurt. The cups are on the first level of the cupboard, the left door, and the plates on the right, the cutlery in the red drawer."

He hears the noise behind him but doesn't realize how efficient Mav is until a stack of plates appears to his left, ready for him to serve up the scrambled eggs. He fills the first one and is about to complain that he has no hands to move it when someone takes it away.

"Huh?"

Leonard turns to see that there is a line along the kitchen wall. Brad is handing the plate over to his brother Jake, who walks gravely over to the counter, where Mav has control of the ketchup and mustard. After he gets a small dose of each, the boy goes to Ice, who hands him a spoon and a paper napkin. Finally, he stops at Sarah, who gives him a cup with… it must be yogurt because he sees the handle of another spoon sticking out. Jake walks into the living room, puts cup and plate on the coffee table, and sits on the floor.

"Uncle Wolf…?"

Brad's voice snaps him out of his stupor. The boy looks at him, then pointedly at the steaming cheesy eggs pan.

"Right away!"

In amazement, he serves the second course and watches as the teenager hands it to her sister Sam, and she, too, walks the serving line.

How did Mav put this together so fast?

It is one thing to listen to Iceman singing praises to the love of his life and how being a father has made him mature, but quite another to see it. The Maverick he met in Top Gun was arrogant, hated getting up early with all his soul, and could cause chaos in a square meter. He had heard that the Admiralty locked him up with Goose after passing RIOs around like shirts. That it was Bradshaw who was forcing him to act as a person.

Bradley takes Sean's plate, walks his younger brother through the three service stations, sits him down at the table, and runs back to the kitchen. Leonard already has his plate ready.

After Top Gun, they were assigned to the USS Saratoga, Rick and him, Merlin as Mav's RIO, but the relationship wasn't that close. Most days, Maverick just sat alone, staring into space. He could be civil to the rest of the squadron and never show any interest in being nice to their officers. It is also true that the man was processing the loss of Bradshaw, his brother, for all intents and purposes. Wolfman doesn't know if he would have had the mental strength to be nice to anyone.

Ice approaches with insulated gloves on his hands.

"Will you let me take out the bread?"

Devils! He had forgotten the tray in the oven. Of course, there are almost always two, and the toaster is enough. Wolfman turns it off and steps aside. Ice removes the tray and goes to the living room table to distribute slices with tongs.

On the way back, he puts the tray on the counter. When he approaches Mav, he just smiles at him. Leonard is frankly amazed at the control they show in their interactions. They also have practice, right? More than ten years.

Everyone noticed that during the first Desert Storm in 1990, Mav was a bit more social. The excellent fucking that Ice gave him helped his mental health, although they did not know it. Still, that didn't last long: Mav was unexpectedly called back in March 1991, and he realized that what he felt for Rick was not "friendship." They gave themselves a year to decide if it was serious, and in the spring of 1992, they began to make plans for the future.

Unlike Mav, Ice, and other queer folks in the defense community, he and Rick are hardly masochistic: They never considered staying in the Navy.

When Mav returned to active duty in 1994, they were in Colombia, in the War on Drugs. Although they focused on getting away with all the benefits before they DADTed them, the rumors reached them: Mav was crazier than before. No, it wasn't like that. Mitchell was the same madman but with two new traits in the long list of characteristics that made him the most hated and loved pilot in the Navy: perfect calm in the face of the most intense tirades of his officers and unbeatable concern for the well-being of his squadron.

Mitchell's forehead no longer popped veins when he was told about his cursed heritage, lack of discipline, or style of suicidal flight. He didn't talk back. He didn't even move his jaw like someone holding his tongue. He stared into the distance, letting the words roll off him like rain. When the officer in charge was already exhausted, he would explain point by point why his actions in the air were the best way to carry out the orders and protect the integrity of his squadron. He never expected to get credit, just asking, "I am dismissed?" and he was leaving.

That strategic ability applied to the well-being of your airmen, literally in the air, is rare. Suddenly, some pilots wanted to fly under Maverick's orders!

Sarah comes for her breakfast. She has bright, cheerful eyes, her hair parted down the middle and pulled back into two long braids. Her voluptuous figure and dark skin make her look like one of those Indian warriors from the movies. How beautiful is Kazansky's wife!

Yesterday, while the kids were being fed, bathed, and put to sleep —four, Wolfman's head still spins just thinking about it— he caught a glimpse of that other Mav he only knew from Navy gossip and Ice anecdotes. But Ice was conducting the band last night because Mav and Sarah were exhausted after eight hours on the road. This morning was different. Mav and Wolfman were alone in the kitchen! He turned around for just a moment and… service ready!

As he serves Mav the eggs, the patio door finally opens, and his partner returns from his morning run.

"Hey baby," Rick says.

Typically, his partner would stick behind his back and grab his hips. He would say, "You're dirty," with mock anger, and Rick would respond, "No, I smell macho," lengthening the last O with an affected accent. Because his nickname is Hollywood. Today, Rick slowly takes off his shoes and goes to wash his hands. Wolfman serves the last two portions and takes their plates to the counter, where he dresses them. Hollywood approaches him from behind with tentative steps but does nothing but brush his arm and grab his food.

They go to the living room, where two seats have been left for them.

They sit down to eat with their plates on their knees, but the sudden silence in the room is uncomfortable. Leonard looks at Rick, who gives him a blank look. They both look towards their guests. The three infants have stopped eating and are contemplating them with curious expressions.

"What?" Rick says, at last, a little defensive.

There is an exchange of glances between Jake, Sam, and Sean. Finally, little Mav hardens his face and decides to speak.

"Brad says you guys are boyfriends," he says skeptically.

Brad grunts and slaps his face in embarrassment.

Mav spits out his food and begins to cough.

Ice slaps him on the back with a stormy expression.

Sarah lets out a laugh.

"Yes, and so?" Rick answers.

His green eyes shine with contained rage, but the boy -Mav's son had to be- is not intimidated.

"You are too old to be dating and already live together. Shouldn't you get married?"

Sam and Sean nod vigorously. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Understandably, his partner is left without an answer. They are used to their relationship being confronted or politely ignored but have never been asked why they don't "take the big step."

What can they tell them? They're ten and six years old. For God's sake! It's too early to talk to them about legal traditions, court battles, the lavender threat, or the weight of DADT in their lives. Ice told them that Bradley is painfully aware of the latter and still wants to enlist, but that's another matter.

Wolfman opts for the only real reason that isn't tragic.

"Because we have yet to decide in what order to put our last names when we get married."

Three pairs of eyes widen in amazement.

"Oh!" Sean says.

Jake and Sam have a dialogue based on stares and slight facial expressions -they really act like twins, it's disturbing-. In the end, the boy returns to his food. Now, she is the one who watches them with a calculating expression.

"I was a flower girl at three weddings now," she informs them. "I received very good comments about my work."

Wolfman looks back at Hollywood, his partner looking just as surprised as he is. Kazansky's daughter is... submitting her application for a role in her future wedding? Oh! She's definitely Iceman's daughter.

"We'll keep that in mind, when we start planning the ceremony," Rick finally says.

That seems to satisfy her. Sam stops looking at them and goes to his breakfast.

 

Rick

He quickly escaped from that bizarre breakfast. The excuse was that he wanted to shower, but the truth is Jake's questioning and Sam's offer thrown him off balance.

He turns off the water and starts to dry.

Ice had told them that the fluidity in the roles within the house and the constant interaction with the Sioux community had prevented their four babies -Brad is already seventeen, but he is their baby, of course- from having very rigid ideas about sexuality and feelings. But it is one thing to hear it and another to experience it.

He looks in the mirror: no one would say he is forty-two. He exercises constantly, watches his diet, and puts on sunscreen before leaving the house. However, they told him he was too old to have a boyfriend in his own home this morning.

How dare they?

It shows that it is the offspring of Maverick.

Hollywood is halfway through her shave when he feels his partner enter the room. Shortly after, he watches through the mirror as the bathroom door opens, and Wolfman leans against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He has a discreet smile and bright eyes.

"Have you finished yet?"

"Yes, Mav stayed washing the dishes. Ice and Sarah herded their four demons to brush their teeth and finish getting dressed."

Rick nods, rinses out the razor, and taps it against the edge of the sink. He looks up to continue shaving and notices that Wolfman is still in the same position.

"And what are you looking at?"

"I imagine you in a white tuxedo. I think it would make a good contrast with your tanned skin."

"And why would I wear a white tuxedo?" Leonard knows he can't stand penguin suits.

His wolf raises his eyebrows with an amused expression.

"Isn't it obvious? So that Samantha Kazansky can be the flower girl at our wedding, Mr. Neven-Wolfe. Or is it Wolfe-Neven? Oh! It's such a complicated decision." and he bursts out laughing.

Hollywood contains the urge to throw himself at him and push him to bed. That always ends the same way; they don't have time today. He just huffs and, with a great effort of will, finishes shaving and stores his implements carefully.

"Brush your teeth and stop imagining me. We have work" -and gives him a quick kiss before going to get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, they split between their truck and the one they brought from San Diego and drove the two miles to the Fyrosity Vegas Skytravel hangar. When he opens the door, and the sun reveals the elegant noses of his two Cessna 152 two-seaters and the Beechcraft Baron for five passengers, the sounds of admiration and amazement make him smile.

No matter where they are from, they always react similarly to being a few meters from an airplane, even if they are a light model like this one.

Sarah begins to put Sam and Jake into their flight suits while Ice, Maverick, Wolfman, and he take two devices outside and do pre-flight checks. It's easy, almost like going back to Top Gun. No matter how fierce the competition was, checking the status of planes was a sacred moment of camaraderie. When everything is ready, they return to where the rest of the family awaits them.

"Well, today you are ten years old, and the gift we have prepared for you is the opportunity to fly for the first time. Do you want to do it?"

It's a rhetorical question, but anyway, the cekpáku jump and shout, "Yeah. Yeah!" with all the strength of his lungs.

"Very well, Sam, you go first because you were born before. I want you to fly with Mav."

Hollywood looks at Wolfman, questioning. His boyfriend returns an expression of incomprehension. Sam pouts.

"Why?"

Ice bends down to be at his height with a conspiratorial smile.

"Do you think the whole plane will come back in one piece if Jake and Mav go together?"

"Hey!" -exclaims Mav, offended.

But the girl widens her eyes and nods.

"You're right, Icepop, of course. Let's fly, Mavdad" -she extends her hand to Mitchell, determined and happy.

As Wolfman helps Maverick secure the girl in the passenger seat, Hollywood watches the rest of the family.

Bradley observes everything. He must be taking mental notes. Although the boy has flown several times since turning ten, being in a hangar in the desert with planes at his disposal is not an everyday thing. From the twinkle in his eye, Wolfman suspects that college isn't going to divert him. It'll just be a four-year delay on his way to the skies. That's a pilot.

Sarah doesn't seem worried about her daughter. That's unusual in his experience: People who don't know about aviation generally get nervous, ask questions about safety, and hug those who will fly as if they're going to war. He clearly trusts Maverick.

Although her eyes are on the plane, already preparing to take off, the woman keeps her hands firm on her youngest son's shoulders. With good reason, Sean can hardly sit still with emotion. From what he's been told, he's just as addicted to speed as his other two brothers. It is clear that he wants to go flying too, but the family rules are strict: feet on the ground until he is ten years old.

Beside him, Jake is leaning against Ice's torso, also watching the takeoff maneuvers with bright eyes. His body is very still but not tense. Wolfman is astonished to realize his expression has no hint of envy. The boy is perfectly content to let his father take Sam on the most intense experience of his short life and, for his part, share his first flight with Iceman. Is it a testimony to the close bond that Kazansky has forged with his stepson?

Rick isn't sure what the proper terms are to describe that family dynamic. From what he's seen, Carole, Iceman, Maverick, and Sarah raised their offspring to recognize equal authority in either of them and that their ties trump blood and family names. It is an admirable job, which reveals an absolute commitment to prevent a few days of temporary madness in July 1990 from separating them. So no, Jake is not Kazansky's stepson, just as Sam is not Maverick's stepdaughter. They are parents, period.

Of four kids.

On that, Rick agrees with Wolfman: four is too many.

But it does not seem so to Kazansky. It is clear. Because Brad, Sam, and Jake were "unintentional acquisitions," but Sean was planned.

Ice really is a fucking stud. In and out of bed.

A stud who seems more interested in his son with Maverick than his daughter with Sarah sees Hollywood with surprise as he peers at his former partner. Iceman doesn't look at the Cessna in the sky -like the rest of the family- but at Jake's reactions. Rick frowns, puzzled. Jake doesn't notice, following Maverick's maneuvers in the air with avid eyes —cautious, considering who's at the helm. Ice has a hand on the boy's shoulder, posed, not shaking, as if he didn't want to bother him. The other is closed in a fist. His lips are a very fine, tight line. There is happiness on his face, yes, but it is clouded by something like longing?

There is something else. It's the first time Rick realizes how much Ice and Jake are alike. The boy has Maverick's eyes and nose, but the forehead, cheekbones, lips, and chin are Ice's. Their hair is almost the same shade of blonde. Only Maverick, with his extraordinary luck, could find a woman identical to his lover -ex-lover at that time-seduce and impregnate her in two days.

What does Ice feel when seeing that anonymous woman who almost took Mitchell from him, the child he raised as his own?

What would he feel himself? Rick feels the bile rise in his throat just at the thought of his wolf out there, in the arms of some random woman.

Although there is also Sarah. Maverick wasn't the only one to find quick “comfort” that week. Ice and her lovers have made the best of an impossible situation.

Ice and her lovers! It almost sounds like a soap opera. Who would expect it from the correct Kazansky, cold, calculating, obsessed with regulations? This is probably why no one suspects, because Rear Admiral Tom Kazansky, so proper and discreet, does not fit the type.

Oh! They are always the quiet ones.

But that still doesn't explain why Ice is more interested in Jake than Sam, right? While perhaps it's just that Jake, like Brad and Sean, is already vocal about his calling as a pilot, Sam is not.

The girl is taking after her mother: she wants to study medicine. Which is all very well. There will be enough trouble with a Mitchell in Annapolis. In eight years, when Mav's brat is old enough to go to the Academy, Ice will probably already be a Vice Admiral. A Kazansky with a Mitchel as a bodyguard/accomplice/cover-up? The school would not resist!

Now, Mav begins the landing maneuver.

He stops right at the marked line, and Sam opens her door with a smile that could light up a city.

"Iná, I flew. It's great!" She runs to his family and hugs Jake. "You're going to enjoy it so much, it's like, like…" -she is at a loss for words, but the smile doesn't disappear. "Forget it. It's not like anything, Jake."

"So, will you come to Annapolis with me?" he asks excitedly.

She shakes her head and turns back to watch Mav drive the Cessna back to the hangar.

"No. I couldn't do this every day," she sighs. "It's too much." She gives him a gentle nudge. "Come on, go, fly brother. It's the best in the world!"

 

Jake's secret father

His son takes him by the hand and pulls desperately. Sam's excellent experience adds to his natural excitement at the prospect of flying.

He lets himself be carried.

They board the Cessna, Hollywood checks their safety harnesses, and they do the second pre-flight safety check.

"This is very important," he explains to his son. "It is the pilot's responsibility to rely on the maintenance team to check the plane's technical condition. In the air, your life depends on the device. You understand?"

Jake nods, eyes bright. He follows the movements over the console and imitates them on his side.

He smiles, satisfied, and they begin the takeoff maneuver. Jake moves his head from side to side, trying to see through the front and sides of the cabin, where the world passes faster and faster behind him.

"Almost there, look ahead," he warns him when the speedometer indicates 80 km/h.

They reach 100 km/h almost immediately, and Ice lifts the nose of the plane.

The transition is smooth thanks to great weather, the excellent condition of the Cessna, and hours of practice from Ice. The only violent thing is the screams of his son.

"We are flying Icepop! We are in the air! Look, down there is the town. This is better, a thousand times better than a motorcycle. Icepop, being a pilot is the best in the world!"

Jake flails his arms, throws his head back, and howls, literally howls as emotions overwhelm him.

Ice laughs, relaxed like he hasn't felt in years. Between his hands, the rudder transmits the purr of the Cessna to him. At his side his happy son, without reservations or fears for just a few minutes. Outside, vast Nevada skies on a clear April day. It is by far the best birthday he has had with his son. He doesn't have to pretend any more than necessary -he's used to pretending with Mav- and Jake isn't thinking of Rachel. Today, with its many new experiences and emotions, his little one does not have the mental capacity to miss his imaginary mother. This event brings them together, freed from the ghost of his past identity.

Jake lives his first flight, a vital mark for any pilot, as it should be, in the company of his carrier father. He asked Mav when they were planning this gift, and his husband agreed with a smile in his eyes. That could be a little selfish, but Ice believes that after a decade, he deserves to spend fifteen minutes alone with his son. He has sacrificed so much for this child.

It was Ice who first knew of its existence.

It was Ice who decided to face all the power of the Navy to see it born.

It was Ice who wove the web of lies that allowed them to legalize his existence and place him under Maverick's care.

It was Ice who left him behind at just three weeks old to ensure his safety.

It was Ice who endured the theater of being introduced to him three years later.

It is Ice who puts up with seeing himself supplanted by the mirage of Rachel Levoi every day and knowing that he is a silent accomplice in the suffering that this causes his son.

For that, Ice deserves to be the one who flies first with Jake.

Ice does a couple of understated stunts. Jake is still so excited that he could jump if the harness and the limited space in the cabin didn't prevent

it.

"OK, now we're going to the second part of the gift," Ice announces. "Do you want to pilot?"

The boy looks at him with wide eyes, and his hands go to the training rudder before he can speak.

"Of course, of course, Icepop."

"Very good. Take the rudder with both hands. I will move the nose slightly, and you'll feel the change. OK? Don't try to resist it. I just want you to notice how it is."

Jake nods. All her bubbly joy replaced by attention.

Ice rocks the plane, and Jake gasps. His eyes go from the helm to his father with joy and something else, something new that fills Ice with pleasure and pride: determination.

"Can I do it?"

"Of course" -he activates the circuit that allows piloting with the training rudder. "Very slowly, I want you to pull up. This is key, son, slow down, or the fuselage will be damaged. I will count to three, take a deep breath, and pull."

Jake nods. He readjusts his hands to the rudder to mimic his father and stands still, waiting.

"One," -Ice checks that his hands are steady- "two," -he withdraws his right hand- "three." -he removes his left much more slowly-. "Control of the plane is yours."

Jake doesn't turn his head and doesn't speak. Just nod and keep his gaze steady on the front of the device.

"Now, take a deep breath and… pull it toward you."

The Cessna shakes from the sudden change but is much less violent than Ice expected.

"Very good, you are a natural, son. Now, hold it steady."

"Icepop," Jake says in a small voice.

"Yes?"

"Am I...? Am I really piloting a plane?"

"Yes, Jake, you really are piloting a Cessna 152 at ten years of age. You are a thoroughbred pilot."

Jake makes a guttural sound, half laugh and half sob, but the wheel doesn't shake in his hand because he's the son of Iceman and Maverick.

Ice guides him in a few more moves. Jake is gaining confidence in his actions. Of course, he doesn't know where they're going until he sees the airstrip.

"Are we going back?"

"Yes, we've been up here for over fifteen minutes."

Ice is prepared for Jake to demand more airtime, but his son licks his lips and nods.

"OK."

"Well, then, get ready for the landing maneuver."

The boy can't contain himself this time and turns to see him.

"What!?" -the plane shakes.

"Eyes forward, pilot!"

"Sorry, sorry."

"If I tell you you can land, it is because you can. OK?"

Jake swallows hard.

"Yes," he mutters and then says louder. "Yes, Icepop."

"Good. And if you can't do it, it doesn't matter. It means you have to keep learning. OK?"

"Yes, Icepop."

"Let's start: push the rudder slowly..."

Ice leads him through the steps without haste. He's not worried about whether they must do two laps before hitting the ground. There's still enough gas. Also, he has his eyes on the altimeter and hands ready to regain control of the plane if necessary.

Jake does not disappoint him. He has his father's vocation for risk and the calm in the air of his other father. They hit the ground hard but without damaging the plane.

When they finally stop, the child unfastens the harness but does not open the door, instead turning to his co-driver. Ice has a moment to see his tear-streaked face before he hugs him tight.

"Thank you, Icepop. Thank you so much."

Ice raises his face.

"Wipe those tears, or you will scare your iná Sarah."

Jake nods, wipes his face on the bottom of his shirt, and opens the plane door. Maverick is ready to pick him up. Sarah, Sam, Sean, Wolfman, and Hollywood greet him with applause and whistles.

Ice closes the door and maneuvers the Cessna into the hangar.

This first of April 2001 is a brilliant memory that he will cherish when everything inevitably goes to shit.

 

The author

They return to San Diego the next day before dawn.

Maverick is a fucking emissary from Priapus god that night.

As he rides his husband, with Tommy deep into his ass, Pete babbles lustfully about how hot it is to watch him fly and how hard it makes him when he goes into order and command mode. After cumming and lying on Ice's chest for about ten minutes, Pete turns to Sarah with his pupils dilated with desire. He puts a hand on her hips.

"Can I?"

She, who can never say no to him – who can say no to Pete “Maverick” Mitchell? – nods, blushing. Pete lifts her nightgown and buries his head between her legs. Ice watches in fascination as his wife begins to moan, first softly, then louder. Mav raises his face, lips shiny with vaginal juices.

"I want to hear you," he orders and sticks his mouth to her pussy again.

Sarah grabs Ice's hand and puts it on her chest.

"Please," he begs between grunts.

You don't have to be attracted to a woman to understand that. Ice may be gay, but he's also a good husband. He straddles her, helps her to get out of the nightgown, and massages her breasts vigorously. Sarah's nipples harden quickly. Between Pete on her pussy and Tom on her breasts, the orgasm doesn't take long, but when she arches, already about to come, Mav stops.

Pete manhandles his husband with unexpected speed and strength, leaving his groin in front of Sarah's crotch. Then, he pushes Ice's hips forward. Ice hasn't removed his harness with his artificial penis, and he enters her almost without realizing it.

Sarah gasps, as surprised as Ice but pleased.

"Yes, yes, oh, God, yes. Move!"

Again, this Ice knows how to do it. The task is easier as Mav penetrates him from behind and begins setting the pace. How did Pete manage to get another erection in less than fifteen minutes? Tom doesn't have the brainpower for that. His husband positions him at an excellent angle, tightening his vagina just enough to make him feel full. The movements are reflected in his own pistoning on Sarah. Tommy's rubbing against his clitoris is constant, irresistible.

Sarah grabs his head and pulls him down to kiss him hard. He feels her convulse in his arms.

"Ice, already?" Mav asks.

"A little more," he asks.

Maverick grunts and picks up speed. His movements become more energetic but less controlled. Finally, Ice's abused clit shoots lightning through his body. One of his reflex reactions is to contract his vaginal muscles, which just threw Pete over the abyss. He can feel the semen spilling inside h

im, warm and dense.

For a moment, Ice glimpses another world where pregnancy wouldn't directly threaten their careers. They are still young. Could they have another baby? But it's just a dream. He had a hysterectomy eight years ago to avoid any surprises.

With the last remnants of energy, he separates from Sarah, removes his harness, and settles her in his arms. Mav covers them and sticks to their back.

While they prepare breakfast on Tuesday, Bradley goes through four days' worth of mail. An envelope with the University of Virginia letterhead is addressed to Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. The young man hands it to Sarah with trembling hands.

"I can't, I can't," he stammers.

Determined, she tears the envelope and unfolds the letter. Start reading right away.

"Dear Mr. Bradshaw, it is a pleasure to inform you that…"

The uproar of happiness scare the dogs from the whole block.