That moment when you slowly become just like your childhood crush!
Also, remember when May (the character in the drawing) had a little brother? Whatever happened to him? Wait… is that her sibling now!? Did he- I mean, she, used the sacred feminization evolution stone too!?
Maybe you can help me out? I'm looking for cute, fluffy, wholesome fics, either icemav or hangster.
I'm feeling kinda sad because I'm at a difficult and sad point in the fic I'm writing at the moment. I like writing it but it's just so sad at the moment... And I desperately need something to lift my mood.
Well, @ipsen tagged me, "Last sentence I wrote in a WIP"
I did cut out the literal last sentence to not spoil too much, but this is a sneak peek from Lotus 27, this is draft 1 though so changes may occur or it might not even make into the finished chapter.
"...Hahah"
He didn't really understand why he laughed, it just felt funny for some reason. Like it would all be over soon, Like a bad dream he was sure he would wake up from sooner or later.
He had this feeling once before, right, back then he thought, hoped, it was all a bad, horrible, dream.
The world keeps on spinning without him realizing, and over and over again, he continues ending up in the same places doing the same things.
In his youth, that man told him about how pain and suffering were simply God testing the faith of Man. Those words, this faith, is one of the few things from that Man that Amon still held within himself.
So in that moment, he closed his eyes and joining his trembling hands, he prayed, or rather, he begged.
"Please, please don't take him away. Haven't I done enough? Haven't I endured enough? Haven't I proven my faith to you enough?!"
summary: Nonsensically, as the Admiral steps up to the podium, the first thing that Maverick notices is that he’s wearing his wedding ring. The second thing he notices is that Tom’s looking at him, too. And, of course, he recognizes him. There’s a brief flash of panic in his gaze before he’s turning a wide, disarming smile on the group at large - his reaction to Maverick disappearing under a veneer of civility and professionalism in an instant.
A Sugar Daddy Iceman AU.
relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Sarah Kazansky & Tom "Iceman" Kazansky
tags: Sugar Daddy, Marriage of Convenience, Hook-Up, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Making Out, Power Imbalance, Age Difference, Pete Mitchell fucks that old man, no bets we die like goose, Other Additional Tags to be Added
And here we go finally! Part 1 of Maverick Chronicles. Will update on Fridays. Enjoy!
Tumbler: Masterlist: Main, Mav Chronicles ; A03
Even at five, Pete knew his world was changing. The men on the porch caught his mom when she went down, but he’s not sure he’ll ever forget her cries. She’d always been a little distant when his dad was away, but when his dad never came back, he lost his mom as well. She stayed in her room, only emerging to get another drink and restart the song. He hated that song. He’s not surprised when he comes home from school one day a year and half later to find officers at his house and his mom is gone. He doesn’t cry; he lost his mom a long time ago.
None of his relatives wanted him; he was a young child who had already been through too much. He was already acting out at school, getting into trouble, but no one took the time to see that he just needed a little attention, a little love. When none of his aunts would take him, he was placed in the system; a system that wasn’t very kind to him. A system that reinforced his beliefs that no one would want him, that he was inherently bad, that he deserved all the pain and heartache he received. But what he didn’t know was that someone was fighting for him; someone, two someones, wanted him very much.
When he was eight and a half, Mike and Carrie started to come visit. He vaguely remembers Mike working with his dad, but it takes a couple of visits before he warms up to them. The social worker is surprised with how well-behaved and nice Pete is when he is with Mike and Carrie. But they talk to him, they listen, they give him attention and they’re nice to him. He likes them, and he really likes when Mike tells him stories about his dad. He trusts them, and he’s always so sad when they leave. He doesn’t show it, showing his tears are a weakness in his current foster father’s eyes, but he always cries for a solid hour when Mike and Carrie leave. He’s always so surprised when they come back too.
On their fifth visit they bring their daughters Catherine and Jamie with them. Cat’s three years older than him, but she plays with him on each visit, and she seems nice. Jamie is almost one, and she loves using Pete to pull up on. She grins at him every time she does it, and Pete can’t help but smile at her. After their tenth visit, his social worker asks if he’d like to go live with them. He doesn’t believe it, doesn’t believe they could want him full time, but he’s honest and says yes. A week later they’re in front of a judge, and he has to answer a bunch of questions honestly. When it’s over, Carrie pulls him into a hug that’s so tight, he’s sure he’s going to snap in half. “Want to go get your stuff kiddo?” Mike asks.
“I’ve got it,” he says nodding to the backpack that’s beside him.
He sees Mike and Carrie share a look, and he’s afraid he’s already messed up.
“Tomorrow we’ll go shopping; or maybe when we’re back home.”
“I’m fine,” Pete promises. He has all his important mementos and pictures in his backpack with two pairs of jeans and shirts.
Mike gently squeezes his shoulder, but he agrees with Carrie. “Let’s get back to the room, get some food, and book the tickets home.”
It’s a whirlwind after that, and before Pete knows it, he has his own room in a house on the beach in California. His room is between the girls, and they let him decorate it anyway he wants. It takes several months of being there, probably closer to a year if he’s being honest, before he relaxes into the fact that his room isn’t going anywhere. He starts putting his pictures out on the dresser. There’s the one of him and his dad with his dad’s plane in the background. Then there’s the one picture of the three of them where they were happy. When he comes home from school one day, he finds them in a frame next to his bed and he tries not to cry. He finds Carrie in the kitchen cooking; “Thank you,” he tells her quietly from the doorway.
“For what sweetheart?”
“Putting my pictures in a frame. I… I was always afraid they’d get ruined and I’d lose them.”
Carrie kneels down for a hug, but she always waits for him to come to her. Pete runs into her arms, clinging tight.
“You’ll never have to worry about losing them again Pete. We can even make some copies just in case, if you want.”
Pete nods against her shoulder, as he buries his face in her neck. “Thank you mama,” he whispers.
It’s the first time he has called her that, even though both she and Mike have told him they would be more than happy with whatever he called them, but that it was ok to think of them as mom and dad now. She hugs him tighter trying not to cry, and that is how Mike finds them after getting Cat started on her homework and getting some hugs from his two year old.
“Everything ok?” he asks quietly, so as not to startle Pete.
“Yea…. Yea. Everything is perfect,” Carrie gets out. Thankfully, Pete doesn’t notice the tears in her voice, but Mike does. He cocks his eyebrow at her, and she gives him a watery smile.
Even though he’s almost ten now, Carrie picks him up and holds him. Mike walks closer and wraps his arms around them both. Pete lets out a shuddering breath as he clings to Carrie tighter. He feels safe; he feels loved, and he has for the last year.
After a few minutes, Pete wiggles down, giving them a blinding smile before he’s off to do his own homework with Cat while Jamie runs around their feet.
“What happened?” Mike asks once Pete is gone and Carrie falls into his arms letting the tears fall.
“He thanked me for the picture frame and called me mama.”
Mike’s arms tighten around her and he smiles. It took a little longer than they expected, but Pete was finally settled; he was home.
It takes another year before he calls Mike “dad.” Pete had been sick, and Carrie couldn’t get out of work for the day. Even though it was generally frowned upon, Mike had brought him to base to rest in his office while he had class. He didn’t have any hops that day, so he figured it would be fine. When Mike comes back from class, Pete is curled on the couch in Mike’s sweatshirt, looking awful.
“Alright kiddo, ready to go home?” Mike asks, brushing the hair off his forehead.
Pete is burning up, so Mike gets him some more meds and then helps him up. It’s a struggle to get Pete to take them, but he finally manages to get them down, and he rests his head against Mike’s abdomen where he’s standing in front of Pete. His fingers are brushing through Pete’s hair in the way that always calms him, and Pete lets out a shuddering breath. “Don’t feel good, Dad,” he whines.
Mike has to force himself not to react and freak Pete out, but he feels the lump in his throat all the same. “I know bud. Let’s get you home and into bed. How’s that sound?”
“Will you stay?” Pete whispers.
“As long as you want,” Mike promises. He helps Pete up, and gives him his aviators to hide behind even though they’re way too big on the kid, and then leads him out of the office. Once home, Pete curls into his side in bed and promptly falls asleep. That’s how Carrie finds them once she gets home.
At sixteen, Pete starts asking Mike questions about the Academy and joining the Navy. He wanted to be a pilot just like both his dads. Mike was more than pleased to answer any and all of Pete’s questions, and he snuck him on base over summer break more than he probably should’ve. But Pete had him wrapped around his little finger since the day he was born. Mike worked for those two years to get the mission he’d flown with Duke declassified so the truth could be revealed, but it was to no avail. He knew the rumors that swirled around the Navy, and he knew Pete was going to have a hard go at it, but he was still surprised when the rejection letter came. To say Pete was heartbroken was an understatement, and when he asked Mike why he thought he didn’t get in, Mike told him the truth as much as it killed him. Mike watched his carefree teenager transform before his eyes. It was the same stubbornness and determination he’d seen in his long deceased wingman that shown in his kids eyes now, and he knew nothing would stop Pete from finding a way.
What did surprise him was Pete wanting to cut off all contact with them. Pete thought he was protecting Mike and explained it as such. Carrie was able to convince Pete that he was still able to write to her or the girls so they didn’t lose full contact with him, and Mike was relieved. He wasn’t ready to let his kid go just yet. Pete fast tracked through college, and before Mike knew it, his kid was in flight school. It was there that he met Nick and Carole, who took him into their little family like it was nothing. Mike was glad to see him gaining friends and support outside of them, and he hoped it would be a good thing for Pete. Nick and Pete seemed to click so well, and Mike wasn’t all that surprised when he’d heard they were a pilot/RIO pair. He even understood when Pete changed his emergency contacts to Nick and Carole, even if it broke Carrie’s heart just a bit.
Out of flight school, they had a brief station at Pensacola, and it was there that Pete met Tom Kazansky. He’d mostly kept his sexuality to himself as a teenager, but his older sister knew he tended to favor males. He had a suspicion that Mike and Carrie knew as well, but they’d never said anything, so he didn’t either. While it could get him a dishonorable discharge if anyone in the Navy found out, Pete made sure to always be discrete. Hence why Nick didn’t even know. But one look at Tom Kazansky, and Pete knew he had to have him. It took a couple of weeks and several, several, nights at a bar and nightclub, but Pete finally succeeded and got his man. It was one of the hottest and greatest nights of his life if he’s being honest, but the next day, he and Nick were restationed, leaving Tom behind.
In between deployments, he would sometimes sneak home for a short visit; Carrie insisting on seeing him alive with her own eyes. It always felt great coming home, but he was always worried his connection to them would be discovered and he’d ruin Mike’s career. It was the last thing he wanted, knowing how hard his dad had worked for that top position at Top Gun, so he spent a lot of his leaves on his own or with Nick and Carole. They’d done three years of random length deployments, Mav making a name for himself in the Navy and trying to out fly Duke’s ghost, before they were sent to Top Gun. It felt odd knowing he’d actually been the second choice, and if it hadn’t been for Cougar turning in his wings, he’d still be waiting for his chance. But Mav was beyond ecstatic to be going home, and to finally be able to fly with his dad.
Top Gun: Maverick - Hangman x f!reader [no use of y/n]
2k || Jake never thought he would fall in love with the woman who cried on the first date he ever took her on, but here he was months later standing in her kitchen even more in love than ever.
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Genre: Fluff, slight angst
CW: swearing, kissing, relationship insecurity, mentions of past relationships (neglect)
Author’s Note: I just love this version of soft jake so much. And yes, this completely self-indulgent I am not sorry || cross-posted on ao3
Part One
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===
“I hate Valentine’s Day.”
Jake’s posture didn’t change as his statement filled your kitchen alongside the sizzle of uncooked batter hitting the pan. You wished you could say the same for yours. Smile slipping and shoulders slumping as you realized you had been getting your hopes up for someone like Jake, as chivalrous and kind as he had been these few months, to be as much of a hopeless romantic as you were. As if to accent your thoughts he added a damning, “It’s a consumer holiday.”
You swallowed a disappointed ‘oh.’ Then stepped around the breakfast counter into the kitchen to start setting the table. Jake gave the barest of a glance over his shoulder, but you made sure to turn your face away from him. Ever since the mess of a first date - or, rather, second date - where you broke down in tears at dinner, Jake had been the model of a perfect boyfriend. Sure he had an ego and would flirt with you at inappropriate times, but there was no denying that Jake was a gentleman at heart. He would bring flowers home just because. Every time the two of you went out he paid. Unless you put your foot down, then he would let you take the check. It opened the door to make that same joke about confidence being a good look on you.
A point you had begun to agree with. Having Jake Seresin in your life helped you grasp at the most basic staples in the concept of self-worth, particularly when it came down to relationships. Compromise did not mean turning a blind eye to your own wishes. Honest and open conversations were possible. Even more so, they were expected with Jake.
“I find it hard to believe,” Jake had said to you one night after a long day at work where the only time the two of you really had to talk was his impromptu sleepover. “That a woman like you spent so much time in a relationship and didn’t once stand her ground.” It wasn’t supposed to come off as rude as it had. That was just Jake. Blunt, coarse, and completely well-intentioned. That latter point was what you’d chosen to focus on.
“I don’t know what it is,” you had responded, tucking yourself in between his arms as far as you possibly could. “When I get into a relationship, I forget that I can be my own person. I try too hard to be the perfect partner. Like I’m only allowed to be an extension of whoever I’m dating.”
Jake had merely brought a hand up to trace your face with his fingertips and said, “I love you, but I would rather break up with you than ever let you feel as though you were nothing more than an extension of me.”
And that’s how Jake Seresin first told you that he loved you. In the late hours of a night where, just a few hours before he’d shown up, you had been crying over not knowing why someone would date you in the first place. Feelings of doubt and inferiority clawing at your skin, desperately trying to find a way to burrow in deep. How could someone who had been proven to be unloveable time and time again suddenly get so lucky? Of course, you didn’t miss the way Jake had used the words ‘break up,’ but the fact was that you hadn’t gone into a spiraling mess of negative thoughts. Instead, you let yourself cling to the knowledge that you were loved by someone you felt truly inclined to believe for the first time in your life.
A love that could last you through a lifetime of pancake breakfasts, you thought as you reached up in the cabinets to start pulling down plates, but your mind still lingered in the after hours of that first ‘I love you.’ The only thing that brought you back to reality was Jake sliding up behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other reaching out to grab the plates you were fumbling with.
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asked.
A dismissive hum escaped you. Force of habit. Hey, do you mind if I skip this intensive dinner you made to hang out with the guys? Hum. We can’t go out because work is so weird about us dating and without that paperwork from HR it’ll be hell to deal with. Hum. Thanks for giving me head, but I’m actually pretty tired now. I think I’ll just go to bed. Hum. Easier to avoid the conversation to confrontation pipeline. You had never been on the winning end of one in a relationship anyway. Jake had attempted to convince you otherwise but biting loneliness in comparison to a tenuous companionship felt like too much of a step in the wrong direction.
Jake said your name softly. Your eyes fluttered closed at the gentleness in his voice. “Hey,” he said, and you heard the clinking of plates being set on the counter next to you. “Talk to me.”
Arms opened; Jake used that to his advantage to swing you around to face him. You cracked an eye open. The hardest part about dating Jake was the talking. “Doll, if I did something, I want to know.”
Maybe because he always said shit like that. You felt the pressure of his thumb draw circles on your hip. This man had seen you naked. He had sat on the toilet while you took a bath just to talk. He’d mopped sweat from your brow and cleaned up puke when you had a stomach bug a few weeks ago. Yet nothing ever prepared you for the nervousness that kept creeping up during domestic moments like this where you were in his arms, and he stared down at you with the look of a lovesick puppy.
No one had ever looked at you like you were their entire world. You could feel the entire weight of it on your shoulders.
“Valentine’s Day.”
He quirked his head. “What about it?”
“I’ve never celebrated it before.”
Before you could turn your face away, Jake repositioned so that his forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were massaging the skin on your waist. “Doll, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his eye then prompted, “And?”
“It’s stupid, never mind.”
“It’s never stupid if it means something to you, darlin’,” he said with that accent that made you weak in your knees. It was a good thing Jake was holding you up or you’d be nothing more than a puddle on the floor.
You bit down on your bottom lip. Embarrassment creeped up the back of your neck. “No one has ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You let out a sigh, but winced because it made you sound like more of a whiny high school girl. “I don’t know. I just thought - I’ve always wanted a cliche Valentine’s Day… gifts, chocolate, going out for dinner that’s way too expensive. With my other relationships there wasn’t much to celebrate… but with you, Jake, I want to.”
Jake smiled at you. That dazzling smile that made you nervous when you went out in public because it made you want to say something stupid.
“Okay,” he said then, at the confusion on your face, added, “We’ll go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.”
Guilt gnawed at your gut. He had sounded so adamant earlier in his dislike for the holiday. “But you said-”
He cut you off. “I say lots of stupid shit, doll. You really should know better than to listen to me by now.”
“I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to though, Jake.”
“I want to make you happy.” Jake leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. When he pulled away you asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”
“Of course, I am. Where I’m from we go all out. Bigger the better in Texas.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky grin that settled onto his face. “It’s a compromise, darlin’. This year we go out and do every cliche imaginable. If it’s too much for me, I’ll say something. If it’s not what you imagined, you’ll say something. Then, next year, we can pick and choose whichever parts we liked and change what we don’t like. We’ll start a tradition that’s perfect for us. Sound good?”
You nod, matching his wide smile. “I would really appreciate that, Jake.”
“Plus, when would I pass up the opportunity to celebrate my girl?” He took a step back so your back pushed against the counter and he laid flush against you. “I like taking you. It gives me a chance to show everyone how much better I have it.”
You let out a laugh. “Jake!”
“I’m serious,” he said, kissing your cheek. Then trailed them across your jaw and down your neck. You weren’t paying attention too closely, too distracted by his tongue on your skin, but you could have sworn he ground gently into you. “I’ll celebrate you every day if you let, doll.”
You tilted your head to the side. Jake jumped at the chance to press more kisses to the exposed skin on your neck. “I love you,” you told him, your voice between a breathy mound and a dreamy sigh.
In shock Jake jerked away from you.
And that’s how you first told Jake Seresin you loved him. And the moment you realized the pancakes on the stove had burned to a crisp. Jake had too many stars in his eyes to pull the pan from the stove. Not that you minded. Cleaning up the mess was the least you could do after he went through all the trouble - no, not trouble. He cooked, you cleaned.
A compromise. The hallmark of a healthy relationship. Something you did for someone you loved, and you really loved Jake Seresin.
Bonus:
“What the hell are you doing?” You glanced over to the other end of the counter at Jake. It was taking longer than expected to scrape the burnt bits of batter from the pan, which should have given him plenty of time to make a new breakfast plan. Except for the fact that he looked elbow deep in a crime scene.
“I’m making pancakes.” The batter in the glass bowl was a bright red. Alarmingly red, but Jake spoke as though you were supposed to know exactly what he was doing. “They’re going to be shaped like hearts.”
You shook your head at him, going back to scrubbing. “Try not to burn these ones then. That would be a bad omen.”
“Try not to distract me by being so damn beautiful.”
“Can’t promise anything.” You could feel his eyes on you.
“God,” he said, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re confident.”
You turned to look at him, catching his eye, and let a mimic of his smug smirk settle on your lips. “Focus on not burning my breakfast this time flyboy.”
He scoffed at the nickname but set his focus back on intensely stirring out the streaks of red dye in the batter. You didn’t even realize that you had food dye in your kitchen.
“Jake? You do realize Valentine’s Day is next week, right?”
“It’s not every day the love of your life tells you that they love you too. And if Valentine’s Day is celebrating your relationship, then every day is Valentine’s Day for me.”
“God, you’re so fucking hot when you use those cheesy lines like that on me.”
His eyes were on you again. Hotter this time. “Should we forget breakfast,” he asked. You slid your gaze back over to him. The pan splashed into the sink, splashing water up onto your his shirt.
“I have to go change this shirt,” you said in response.
Jake dropped the spoon. Globs of red batter splattered in all directions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were too busy racing him to the bedroom laughing in pure joy the entire way there.
Noughts and Crosses - Jake "Hangman" Seresin x childhood friend!reader (part I)
A/n: THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND PTSD/TRAUMA STUFF! No bullshit reader, like literally does not take Jake’s bullshit. Frenemies to lovers cuz why not🤷 So, so much cheese that’s pretty much a fondue. I've written this with the perspective of Jake rather than Hangman so expect a lot of raw emotion. Uh, strong language, character trauma/hurt but mostly, mostly fluff. No beta-read, I’m going in raw.
Synopsis: 4:45 pm. You saw him lay there, half alive and looking like a cartoon character that’s been rolling down a rugged slope and crashed at the bottom with a loud cymbal sound. With deep crimson cuts on his shabby face but still good-looking as a Greek god's statue. He was supported with a neck brace attached to his neck, arm plastered for his own stability and matching with a leg cast extended up his right limb. Chest heaves with each breath he takes from his life support and exhales with shivers of pain. Jake's eyelids strain open to peek at you hovering 3 feet away from him with a deep crease on your forehead. You grumble.
"What in the ever-loving fuck happened to you?"
Wc: 2,630
Part II part III part IV
Approximately an hour and a half ago, the rush of foot tapping was part of your daily segments at the animal shelter you ceaselessly worked for the past 4 years. Tending animals was your dream job. At least that's what you wanted to do from a very young age; running around with furry animals to your heart’s desire. And working at an animal shelter happens to be the closest thing to what you had in your mind, but with a greater purpose of finding them a forever home. It's much better than dealing with sporadic humans who barely understand English and the universal language of 'no'.
No, animals are much better than that. They're easy to teach and have mannerisms, and they will always be your friend. So, in what scenario could you be in to get yourself stuck in this sticky situation?
Several phone calls from an unknown number.
Though you should’ve known better not to answer phone numbers you are unfamiliar with. But no, you had to poke holes at your curiosity and answer some strange number displayed on the screen of your phone.
"Hello, is this y/n?"
"Yes, this is y/n speaking...who's this?"
"Hello ma'am, we're calling from the Naval Medical Centre about Jake Seresin. You were listed as his medical emergency contact. Unfortunately, ma'am, he's been—"
"Wait, wait, wait. Did you say Jake Seresin? And, emergency contact?!"
"Yes, ma'am. He got into an accident today in regards to his ejection from his aircraft. It is a protocol for us to contact his next of kin in case of emergencies."
"I'm sorry, did I catch that right? His next of kin? I'm sorry, but you must have got that wrong, I'm not related to him—"
"Ma'am I'm just following protocols, it states clearly here that you're the one to contact in case of emergencies. Could you please come down to the Naval Medical Centre—"
"No, I think you must have gotten something wrong. We haven't kept in contact for over 20 years. You should contact his family in Texas—"
"We'll see you soon ma'am" the line clicks.
"Wait!" you yell before retreating to a defeated sigh.
Out of the blue, a name you haven't heard of in years decided to pop back out from the depths of the Earth's crust, and one you are well familiar with. Jake Seresin. Your childhood 'friend'. More like terror. You were not given the option to become friends with him. It just so happens your mothers were lifelong friends long before you were born, yet somehow they thought 'wouldn't it be great to give birth at the same time and let our kids be friends like we were?' Sad to say, it was not great.
From the early stages of your life, you knew Jake was a prankster. The one that makes your life and the kids at school miserable. The things he does that made you wonder if he really was just Satan’s spawn reincarnated to Earth just to spite you.
So, why then, would you be getting into your shoddy, on the edge of breaking down Yugo 65 and ramming down traffic because of one shitty phone call?
The answer is: you don't know.
You got to the medical centre in just a little under 30 minutes, probably your personal best record in the first wave of the San Diego rush hour traffic and patted yourself on the back for that. Truth to be told, you were never really keen on hospitals; the antiseptic scent that stings your nose, the endless void of white glossed walls, and doctors rushing here and there with stoic faces. You could never decipher what is going on inside their mind.
The lady at the reception was nice to greet you with a sunny smile for your quickly-overturned shitty day. She had on her face one of those thick-rimmed glasses that pointed out into a cat-eye shape and paired with a brick red lipstick that complimented her sharp blue eyes. You quickly discern that she was not the same person that called you earlier, but still was well informed of your situation and directed you to your destined floor and room number.
Another reason why you did not like the hospital was that everything is treated like a maze, as though you were a hamster in one of those escape rooms, but they had a treat waiting for them at the end and yours…not so much. You ponder at the front door to the private room where your childhood friend may or may not lay in a squashed-up mush from his newly informed accident. The place card slot to the side of the frosted window had clean calligraphy written 'J. Seresin' in blue ink. You took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The machinery beeped to greet your entrance as you see Jake, resting in a half-induced dream state, probably from the side effects of the morphine. He looks peaceful; older but briefly the same as you remember and much more muscular from all those navy trainings. It's hard to imagine he was once a scrawny kid with a missing tooth, running around your backyard with his bare feet.
The door opening must have woke Jake up as his hooded lids lifted with a heavy weight and peered at you, just hovering three feet away from his bed. He gave you his best but could only produce a weak smile. However, you frown in return, with heat burning from your stomach and billions of questions flying through your mind that condensed into one:
"What in the ever-loving fuck happened to you?"
That earned a croaky chuckle from him but swatted into a coughing fit. You glance to the side where a wash basin and empty glasses are placed, turning the tap on to watch it shoot out chilled water and bubbles as it fills the cup. Hand extended to offer the glass to Jake, his flimsy hand attempted to reach but the drug must’ve suppressed the ability of his movement. You sigh and gently press the glass to the cut-open lip. The water slowly trickles down his throat, gulp after gulp until it reaches the bottom.
He weakly flashes a toothy grin at you. “Well, it’s good to see you too.” He said, in a raspy voice.
You never imagined this is how you would meet again after decades, him in a hospital bed, picking up pieces of himself to put it back together. You shook your head in dismay.
“No, it’s not good. This is how I see you again after all these years? Broken and frail?”
“Shit happens. It’s also part of the job.” He responded calmly.
“Then tell me, why the hell am I your emergency contact? Where is your family? You need to tell them. Not me.”
His breath quivers to suppress the pain before opening his mouth again, “You are the only one I know that lives nearby, plus, there is no point for them to fly all the way from Texas. It’s just a waste of time—“
“I don’t think it’s a waste of time if it’s a life or death situation. I’ll call your mother and inform her—“
“Don’t." he contended. "I don’t wanna make this a bigger deal than it already is. They don’t need to worry about me. I can handle myself.”
You opened your mouth to counter his response but held your tongue and swallow your words. The image of him in your mind was always etched as a tough kid who could handle anything on his own, and if he can’t, he’ll find a way. You grimaced and flopped into the chair next to him, his face is haggard with his dishevelled locks, the bags under his eyes drooping down towards the floor and blood drained from his pale face.
“So, what happened to you? The last I’ve heard, you were one of the best in your class since your mom won’t stop boasting about it. Tell me then, how did you end up like this?” Your brows raised unenthusiastically as you tried to minimise the sarcastic tone.
Jake’s face falters and recollects the moments that happened just mere hours ago. “Sometimes, even if you’re the best, you still can’t avoid accidents that are gonna happen.” He inhales, “bird strikes, those things are mostly unavoidable. But if you’re lucky, you could land the aircraft safely with one engine, and a couple of bruises but mostly unscathed,”
He blinks, “and in the off chance that your aircraft fails…you have to find the means to survive out of pure instinct." Something flashes in his eyes but you can't quite place what it was and before you know it, it’s gone.
Jake continues, "I blacked out mostly, only fragments of what happened. And to be honest, I still don't know what to feel. I remember...clutching myself as tightly as I could and pinching my nose before I hit the water. Then... everything went dark. Never thought the ocean could be so dark."
He shifted a little bit, groaning underneath the pain and squeezing his eyes shut to endure it. "You know, the only good thing that came out of that was the freezing cold numbing everything. I don't remember how I got to the surface, I don't remember being rescued, I just...have no recollection at all. The next time I woke up was here, surrounded by four white walls and listening to the doctor's run-down of my missing pieces."
"Then you showed up."
The corner of your lip faintly tugs, reassuring him of your presence in comfortable silence, the years of disconnection from him dissolved the indifferences between you both and gained a new sense of admiration. For a moment, you did not recognise him. His vastly changed difference is no longer the same imprinted in your memories. He grew up in a blink of an eye and lived up to his beliefs.
"Alright, is there anything I could do for you? I know you did not put me as your emergency contact just for a simple catch-up. And, how the fuck did you even get my number?" the slight crease to your brows painted on your puzzled features as you interrogated Jake for a solid answer. The last time you've ever spoken to his mother was before you moved to San Diego, from then on your only real connection to her was through your own mother.
Jake's smirk brings you slight displeasure about what you're about to discover. "Perks of being in the navy," you shudder, "and also a bit of bribery." There it is. "And, yeah you're right. You're my emergency go-to because you're the only person I know outside of base. And also I need you to get me some toiletries. And possibly some clothes too cuz I am not going to wear my aviation suit leaving this building." He drafted up a fake smile that made you roll your eyes.
You retracted any comments about him being admirable. Every single cell in your body at this moment is having a hard time suppressing the thought of you wrapping your hands around that sprained neck of his and choking him out of his misery as you listen to the sound of his heart flatline through the machine. Oh, how melodic that would be.
"You, Seresin, are an asshole."
"Aw, I've missed you too." He beams, this time with a little bit more honesty, "But for now, stay. We've got a lot of catching up to do."
*
Week by week, you grew accustomed to the newly fixated schedule that you reluctantly signed up for; waking up at 8 am, commuting the highway in your matchbox car, taking care of your loving companions that you often wish would rule over the world someday; your colleagues' sympathy and understanding shed some weight off your skin as they let you off work early. Another set of traffic that made you wanna blow your brains out, browsing the men's section at the thrift store since you're not going to spend $50+ on Jake just because he's injured (hold for sympathetic aw's), and then visiting said injured pet that doesn't need your help as he's surrounded by medical professions.
You arrived at the hospital today at 4:30 pm, right on the dot, pushing open the door in hopes to find Jake lying lazily on the bed, with a men's health magazine in one hand and trying to scratch his nose with his broken one.
Instead, you find him at the foot of the bed dressed in an oversized grey hoodie and navy blue sweatpants you picked out for him, upright and packing his things in your duffle bag that was long forgotten at the far back of your closet, collecting dust.
"Hey, buddy! Great news! They told me I'm free to go home, but I still need to come back for physiotherapy and check-ups in the upcoming weeks." Jake rejoices, upholding himself underneath the weight of his crutches.
"That's...great!" you smiled, but feeling perplexed by the sudden info dropped at your doorstep, "So, that means you can go back to base now, right? Great, I'll drop you off." As you're about to turn and exit, Jake stops you with an undistinguishable noise.
"Yeeeeah, about that. Um," he rubs the back of his neck nervously and sucks in a breath of air. "I don't have a clear permission to station at the base yet. What they essentially said was for me to get better first before coming back. And even if I did have permission, I would get bored very fast since," He gestured to his casts. "But the funny thing is, I don't have a place to stay outside of the base, so I guess we're going to have to be roommates for a while."
The white noise grew hot in your surroundings. The statics pinched and sizzled your brain into a sheet of white paper as you could only stare into his fiendish grin. What did he just say? Roommates, wait no. No place to stay? Jake blinks, maintaining eye contact with your blank stares. "Yeah, I'm going to need you to ans—"
"No."
"Yes."
"No!" the anger burst from its volcanic rupture, bubbling at the pit of your stomach for the passing weeks, now all released at the face of this moment.
Jake stood idly, taken aback by your explosive reaction and your unbreakable glare that's keeping him on the spot. He huffs and shakes his head. "Why not?"
"Why not?" You scoffed, "Because, Seresin...You are forcing your way, without a plan, into every bit of my life like you used to and thinking that I would accept you with open arms. But, in reality, I don't know you. Not anymore."
"Then isn't this the perfect timing," Jake threw his hands up and motioned his finger between you and him. "We will have plenty of time to get acquainted again."
"Have you been listening to what I've just said?"
"Oh, what? You want me to be stranded on the streets like a lost dog?"
"That sounds like a good idea, maybe we should try that!"
The door abruptly busts open with a loud slam that caught you both off guard. You jumped, with your beating heart in your mouth. A woman dressed in blue scrubs, hands glued to her hips with eyes seeing red as she glowers at the both of you.
"Lieutenant, if you’re finished with packing. I'd suggest you leave accordingly before I call security."
You both awkwardly shuffle, picking up the duffle bag and usher yourselves out of the room with your head down as you mouth 'sorry' on your way out.
summary: day one in the oval office for the Kazansky Administration
rating: G for everyone
warnings: none
read this fic on ao3
a long awaited third installment in the kazansky for america series, my top gun west wing au. thank you as always to @qvid-pro-qvo for the beta. enjoy!
“Well, this is certainly the grandest office we’ve moved into,” Carole says, head on a swivel as she looks around the west wing.
“Probably going to be the last one we move into,” Ice adds on, leading the way through the hallways and towards the Oval Office. He tries to ignore the historical significance of this office, of this position, and treat it like any other move-in day, but it’s difficult. Everywhere he looks, there’s a piece of history staring back at him.
“Oh, Mr. President, I’d like to see the day you actually retire from work. You’ll keep doing something and needing an office, even after this,” Carole retorts as they wind through to the outer Oval. “You’ll be doing something and Maverick and I will be right by your side, helping out however we can.”
Ice rolls his eyes but stays quiet. He knows Carole is right. “You know it’ll be Mav’s idea, whatever comes next.” Carole nods her head, conceding the point.
“Hey, how about we focus on getting in here and doing at least four years of work before we plan on what’s next?” a voice says, right behind him. Ice stiffens at the sudden closeness of another body, only relaxing when he recognizes his partner.
“Hmm, but before we can do any work here, I believe we have some balls to attend,” Ice says, leaning back slightly into Mav, wanting to be close to him. He spares a moment of relief and wonder that this is his life. He still can’t believe he gets this, gets to have this incredible man by his side, and in this office with him.
Mav makes a face, looks at Ice apologetically. “Yeah, there’s actually a little work to be done before we party, Mr. President.”
Ice’s spine straightens instinctually at that, something about Mav saying it that triggers the reaction. It’s his title now, officially. Forever. A title that now refers to him, not a warning that someone’s coming he needs to impress and be on his best behavior for.
No, now he has to be on his best behavior and do the best job of his life. All eyes are on him.
“That’s gonna take some getting used to,” he mutters before shaking his head and meeting his partner’s gaze. His partner’s, his chief of staff’s, proud gaze. “Alright, then let’s get to work.”
The afternoon becomes a blur, senior staff coming in and out of the Oval, each of them pausing for a moment to look around and be a little awed by the room. If he wasn’t still adjusting to this being his office now, he would have laughed at them. Especially Bradley.
“Kinda crazy, isn’t it?” he says to his pseudo-nephew and deputy chief of staff once they’ve wrapped up their conversation.
“Kinda?” Bradley snorts. “It’s completely crazy. Can’t believe we’re finally here.” He pauses and looks around before meeting Ice’s gaze again. “Dad would have loved to see this. Woulda been telling us he told us so, that you would be here, and then have some ideas about decorating the place.”
Ice laughs, picturing Goose circling the room completely at ease. He could just imagine the suggestions he’d have to bring some relaxed, California flair to the Oval Office.
“We’d have palm fronds in here within a week, probably less if he got your mom in on it.”
Bradley chuckles, shaking his head. “Within a day. She’d never be able to say no to him.”
“You’re right, you’re right.”
They stand there, soaking in the room and thinking about the family who isn’t with them today.
Bradley nods. “We’re good, I just had to see the Oval and go over something. I’m leaving now though.” He turns back to Ice, “Thank you, Mr. President.”
Ice just nods, a little overwhelmed hearing Bradley address him so formally. They’d tried to be as professional as possible throughout the campaign, but late nights and exhaustion from being on the road would creep in and no one stopped them from being more familiar with each other. Now, there was a constant reminder of his title all around them, a stark reminder of the position he now held.
It’ll take some getting used to the formality of the office, he thought again.
“Mr. President, you good?” Mav asks, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’m good, Pete,” he says, turning and smiling at his husband. “Just adjusting to the office. The title.”
Pete huffs out a laugh. “That’s what the transition period was for, ease you into the title and the office. Make sure we’re all prepared.”
“Yeah, well, talking about it and actually being here in the Oval and having everyone - including you and Bradley - addressing me so formally, it’s different.”
“This whole thing is different, Tom,” Pete says, dropping the title to make Tom really look at him and pay attention to his words. “This is the first day of the last job you are ever going to have. You’re the President of the United States, the biggest job you could have. You’re the first gay man in the Oval Office, that adds pressure and importance.”
Tom knows it’s true, had remarked on it himself when he stepped through the door earlier that day. But to hear Pete say it, to put it so plainly and point out just how important this job and his win back in November is, and that they somehow made it to today, to inauguration day, makes him pause.
He’s the President of the United States of America. The first gay president, and he’s married by common law to his Chief of Staff.
“Holy shit, I’m the president,” he whispers. “Pete, I’m the president. I got sworn in today. We’re here. We’re really here.”
Pete smirks and moves next to Tom, wraps an arm around him. “We’re really here, babe.”
They stand together like that for a moment, taking it all in. Pete rests his head on Tom’s shoulder, shifts his eyes to check his watch and notes the time. They can take this moment, this minute to revel in what they’ve accomplished.
“Okay, we gotta get back to it, Mr. President,” Pete says quietly, presses a kiss to Tom’s shoulder. “There’s a few more reports and memos to go through before we can call it a night and head back to the residence and change for the ball.”
Tom let out a sigh and nodded. “Before we get back to work, just give me one kiss?”
Pete smiles and obliges him, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his husband’s lips. “C’mon, back to work. It’s day one,” Pete says again, “there’ll be time for that over the next four years.”
