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Viper and Jester are in the middle of a lesson when it happens.
A lieutenant knocks on the door and Viper ushers them in, taking whatever message they have with a quizzical arch of his brow. Ice tilts his head curiously, Slider and the others shamelessly inclining their ears for the barest hint of information. Most times, no one would dare interrupt the Commander while he was teaching.
"Understood. You can tell them he's on his way."
Ice blinks and glances at his RIO.
"Lieutenant Mitchell," Viper says. "You're to report to the hangar bay for a period of unexpected maintenance on an F-14 Tomcat. The chief engineer and his personal assistant are both in the infirmary with chemical burns from another project, and, for reasons that escape me, the only other available personnel on base today are not qualified."
"Yes, sir."
Viper waves a hand. "Take Goose with you. It's all hypothetical maneuvers today, so there's really no need for him to be here without you."
Mav smiles and nods, standing up at the same time as his RIO. "Yes, sir."
Ice doesn't know exactly what's happening here right now. Is Viper saying that Maverick is more qualified to work on an F-14 than any of the available engineers? "Respectfully, sir, why Maverick?"
"Well, Kazansky, unless you spontaneously develop degrees in mechanical and technological engineering and applied physics, or drum up a couple hundred hours of maintenance in the next two minutes, I'd say he's about the best option they've got."
It takes everything in Ice not to gape at Mav's qualifications or flush with embarrassment at being put on the spot.
Mav doesn't have to look like such a smug bastard when he glances over his shoulder, either. He and Goose wait to be dismissed while Viper sorts out a couple of study assignments to send with them. Goose practically beams at Mav, full of pride. It's a look Ice has never seen on him before.
"Sir?"
Viper pulls away from his small podium with a deadpanned look Ice's way. He's definitely not impressed by being questioned again. "Yes, Lieutenant Kazansky?"
"Would it not be beneficial for us to... observe?" Ice asks, trying not to sound like he actually wants to learn anything from Mav, but to simply indulge his own curiosity. "You never know when something might come in handy, sir."
The commander narrows his eyes at Ice as though seeking some sign of bullshittery, deceit, or antagonistic behavior, but Ice has none to offer. He really is plainly curious about what Mav is about to get up to under the hood of an F-14. It's not every day they get an opportunity like this.
Jester shoots Viper a look, but even so, the older aviator seems to be considering it.
"You know what, Kazansky?" Viper twitches his mustache, looking far too pleased with himself. Ice almost regrets asking when he continues with, "I'll let it fly. Everyone up. We're going on a field trip to the hangar bay. All of you know your manuals and the insides of your cockpits, but let's see what it looks like when a pilot actually knows what's going on in there."
Ice smiles a bit when the other aviators stand up, too, enjoying the excited whispers and the small utterances of gratitude for pulling them out of a close-quarters, indoor class with no air conditioning.
Goose and Mav walk at the front of the group, Goose with his arm slung over Mav's narrow shoulders and the commanders staying towards the rear. Ice glances up at Slider, the taller man still seeming to be in shock over the fact that Mav is apparently some kind of mathematical and mechanical genius. In all fairness, Ice wants to know how the hell he managed to pick up not one, not two, but three different degrees when he doesn't look a day over twenty-five. Was he seriously just that good at math?
Hollywood and Wolf both halt in their tracks when they get into the hangar bay and a group of people hover around the nose of not just any F-14, but their own.
They are literally putting their life in Maverick's hands.
Mav hesitates when he sees the names printed on it, flicking nervous eyes to Goose, then to Wood and Wolf. Goose nudges him their way with a gentle touch. Once again, Ice finds it strange how... tender he seems to be with Mav. He doesn't treat Mav like he's dangerous at all, but instead in need of a push in the right direction—in this case, literally.
"If you guys don't, uh... want me to work on her...." Mav fumbles, awkward for the first time that Ice has seen.
Wood claps his shoulder before he can finish. "Well, from the sound of it, she needs some help and you're the man to give it to her. Go on. We want to see."
Mav blinks up at him, nodding decisively with a playful smirk twisting his lips. "You've got it, Wood."
"You'll make her better than new, huh, Mav?" Wolf adds.
That's all the encouragement Mav needs. The young pilot practically skips right on up to the F-14 and puts a careful hand on its nose. Already, Ice hears him talking to it. "What seems to be the problem, sweetheart?"
Commanders Metcalf and Heatherly stand off to one side, watching with tilted heads and steely eyes. The rest of the group presses in closer, eager to see what Mav is up to. Wolf and Wood get a front and center seat to Mav popping open a control panel and loudly declaring "Okay, what the fuck?! I just started. Who did this?"
Slider chuckles unthinkingly and Ice can't help a smile.
"How can you fuck up routine maintenance this badly? Respectfully, sir, I think when you said they 'weren't qualified,' what you must've meant was that some trainee mechanic tried to fix it, didn't know what they were doing with the chief engineer gone, and then decided to pretend they hadn't done anything to it, because this is a fucking mess. It's not even in here right. We're just lucky someone noticed something was up."
Viper waves a hand. "At your leave, then, Lieutenant."
"Right. I want to know who tried to fix this, sir."
Jester snorts. "Shall we ready the discharge papers, kid?"
Mav pops his head out of the compartment, looking far too serious for his own good. "Sir, this kind of thing could've gotten Hollywood and Wolf killed if it got pushed to the wayside and forgotten about. A discharge would be a mercy." Mav disappears into the cockpit for a second, then pokes his head out again. "Respectfully."
Ice can't help a soft breathy laugh. Mav may be a cocky asshole most times, but right now he's as serious as the day is long. That glare on his face isn't a show of arrogance or attitude, but outright discontent and disapproval—all for the sake of Wolf and Wood's safety.
"Commander Heatherly, would you be so kind as to locate the junior techs, since they seem to have disappeared?"
"Sir."
Chipper blows out a breath as Jester breaks off. "Now, that's cold. Think he's gonna yell at them himself, or let Mav do it?"
"It'd be funnier if Mav did it," Sundown mutters.
Ice watches Mav hop back down the ladder and grab a couple tools. The tiny pilot climbs up one last time, grumbling and muttering the whole time as he flicks a switch in the RIO's seat and darts back down to the control panel. He may be more at home in the air, but he's in his element down here, too.
"See here?!" Mav says finally, pulling back with a blocky part and a couple loose wires. "Who the fuck put this in?" He turns it over and reveals a circuit board. "Look at this shit!"
Okay. So, Ice is no engineer, but that's definitely a scorch mark from overheating.
"Who thought this was okay?" Mav mutters, dropping it on the rolling work-table nearby and pointing to one of the few people who were standing around when they arrived. "You know where they store the spares? Great. Take the model numbers and shoo. Go get new ones. I'll go over the rest of the bullshit in the meantime."
Slider leans down to whisper in Ice's ear. "Is it wrong that he's fucking hilarious when he's pissed?"
Mav wanders past them, mumbling under his breath as he rolls over another cart with a bulky computer station on it and drags the long cords up into the cockpit with him. It takes Ice a second to recognize what he's seeing once the system boots up. Maverick is coding.
What the hell is he doing in Top Gun with all these other skills?
"The only good news here is that he didn't get very far into the maintenance before giving up. Everything else seems to be in working order, but I'm gonna want a systems check and at least three test flights before the day is out."
Viper nods along. "Whatever needs to be done, Lieutenant."
Just how smart is this kid?
Wolf and Wood peer over Mav's shoulder while he works. Goose watches with a slight smile on his face, beaming at Mav and giving him a thumbs-up every time they lock eyes. It calms Mav down, and eventually the disgruntled muttering turns into soft humming. Or, at least, it calms him down right up until Commander Heatherly returns with three junior technicians walking ahead of him.
At first, Mav doesn't notice. He's chewing on a pen while he runs a system diagnostic, the computer buffering slowly.
"Lieutenant Mitchell," Jester says. "Your junior techs."
Ice bites his tongue to keep himself from laughing as Mav grabs the offending part and whirls. He doesn't have to say a word, because the tech on the end swallows audibly and flinches when Maverick's stormy green eyes land on him. Mav says nothing for a minute, simply glowering.
"These two can go." Mav motions to the two on the right. "You," he growls, pointing the broken part in a threatening manner. He shoots a quick glance Viper's way, as though seeking permission to rip the kid a new one, and then stalks up to him once the permission is given. "What the ever-living fuck is your explanation for putting this back inside an active fighter plane?!"
The tech is a solid six inches taller than Maverick, but the way he flinches makes Mav's presence grow three sizes. He radiates energy, not any one kind of anger, but something manic.
"There is clear damage! These planes have hops tomorrow! What were you going to do? Let the plane fix itself?! Let two aviators go up with compromised hydraulics?"
Oh, shit. That's what that board controls?
"Look me in the eye and tell me you gave any thought to the two people whose lives you were risking!" Mav snaps. "That's not to mention the lives of the other pilots sharing the airspace! This isn't a science project or homework you can redo! This isn't guess-and-check! The safety of the crew comes first, which means the safety of the aircraft is a must! Is that understood?!"
"Yes, Lieutenant!" the tech squeaks.
Ice's brows shoot up. Not once in the last few weeks has Maverick raised his voice like that to any one of them, but he is ripping into this tech for endangering the squadron.
Mav turns when one of the people from before clears his throat and offers him the new parts. He shoots one last glare toward the junior tech. "Consider a future in marching band, because you're not laying a fucking finger back on this plane."
Viper strolls over. "Well, I think we'll let Lieutenant Mitchell handle things from here. If you'll follow Commander Heatherly, I believe he has some paperwork to fill out and a date to plan with a lawyer."
"A lawyer, sir?"
"Oh, nothing major. Only charges of conduct unbecoming, deliberate ignorance, and endangering the lives of your fellow navymen. I'm sure the JAG will have a field day with you."
The tech's eyes widen, but Jester leads him away before he can open his mouth. Ice glances back at Mav, finding him and Goose hovering over the new parts. Somehow, Mav acquired a pair of safety glasses and a soldering kit in the few seconds he looked away. Goose chatters with Mav while he works now, ruffling his hair when he puts the pieces back together and whooping triumphantly when the next system diagnostic Mav runs comes back clean. He picks Mav up with a grin, drops him back on the ground with a hearty bounce, and gives him a high-five.
Mav looks to Viper, eyes aglow with excitement and accomplishment. "What are the chances of there being test pilots available on base?"
"There should be a couple on call. I'll wrangle them for you, kid."
After a half-hour of waiting, it shouldn't be as exciting as it is to follow Mav up to the tower, but Ice finds himself buzzing with adrenaline all the same. Aside from one other ATC for any scheduled flights for a slow day, no one else sits in the Tower. It leaves Mav his choice of open seats and he dials into the proper frequency. Wolf and Wood bracket Mav when he opens up comms to the test pilots.
Ice can't say he blames them. If someone fucked with his and Slider's plane, he'd be worried about it, too.
The trolley rolls the F-14 out of the hangar below, then disconnects and rolls off while the test pilots do their pre-flight checks and climb inside.
"So, Mav," Wolf asks. "You're not a test pilot?"
"Nah. Maybe one day, if I get tired of running active duty. Besides, I'm not about to risk Goose on the off chance something happens, and I'm sure as hell not risking you two. May as well leave it to the guys getting paid for it."
How reasonable of him.
Before Wolf can ask anything else, the comms crackle to life. "Tower, this is test team alpha. Acres and Wiseman seeking identification and clearance. How do you read?"
"Test team alpha, this is Tower. Reading you loud and clear. Confirm callsign: Fixing A Fuckwit's Mistake."
There are snickers from the other side of the comms and Commander Metcalf clears his throat. "That's a little long for comms, son. Not to mention inappropriate."
"I'd argue the inappropriate part, sir."
Viper settles the snickers of the rest of the class with a wave of his hand. "I'll grant you that. Just this once."
Mav smirks and turns back to his mic. "Belay that, test team alpha. Tower has been informed callsign is too long for communications. Changing callsign to Fuckwit's Mistake."
"Fuckwit's Mistake, confirmed. Waiting for orders."
"You are clear for engine start."
"Roger that. Ground crew feeding air. Stand by for start-up.... Engine one is clear. Two is clear."
Mav snaps his fingers and gives a cheerful thumbs-up to Wolf and Wood. "Proceed with control surfaces check. Relay control quality and hydraulic status post wing sweep."
Hollywood leans toward Wolf. "It's weird seeing it from outside when it's our plane."
"I think it's weirder that Mav's so good at being an ATC," Wolf whispers back.
"Control surfaces are stable, Tower. Hydraulic pressure holding steady. All systems are a go. Awaiting taxi instructions."
Another proud smile grows on Goose's face, this one even softer than the first. Ice would call it smitten if Goose weren't a married man. As it stands, Ice simply wonders if it isn't often Mav gets the chance to show off just how well he knows his planes. He'll be honest; he's impressed. It's not even just the technical know-how, either. He's proving to be strangely knowledgeable about Tower operations, too.
Granted, he breaks enough rules to know procedure front to back.
"Tower confirms green systems status. Fuckwit's Mistake, you are cleared for taxi to runway three."
In no time at all, Mav directs the test team up into the air and out to the range. He coaches them through several maneuvers and, true to his earlier request, has them perform three separate takeoffs, refuelings, and landings just to be sure Wood and Wolf won't be in any danger to fly. It's late evening by the time Mav calls it for the day and lets them taxi the F-14 back to the hangar.
When Mav stands up out of his chair, Hollywood wraps his arms around him and gives him a tight squeeze, lifting him right off his feet. Mav squeaks in surprise and freezes up. Wolf ignores that and grips him tight from the other side.
"You did great, Mav! Thanks for keeping her in one piece, man."
Mav doesn't seem to know what to do with the praise, his eyes instinctively going to Goose. He does that a lot, Ice notes. Even on orientation day when Charlie asked him what they were doing in the air with the MiG, he looked at Goose while he was struggling to find an excuse that wouldn't break confidentiality—because whether Charlie liked it or not, classified locations and operations are still classified. 'Communicating' was a bullshit excuse, but it's the thought that counts.
"You were amazing, buddy!" Goose cheers, lifting him up when Hollywood and Wolf let go and popping him up to ride piggyback the whole way down to the locker rooms. "Let's get out of here, huh?"
Slider and Ice gladly join in when Hollywood and Wolf declare drinks are on them for the night in the spirit of not being dead, courtesy of Mav's engineering prowess.
Ice sits across from the younger pilot. "All right, so let me get this straight. You're twenty-four, with three different degrees and over two-hundred hours of maintenance? How the hell did you manage all that in six years?"
"It was technically eight years." Mav shrugs, sipping from his drink while everyone leans in eagerly. "I graduated high school a couple years early. Went to college and started working towards a mechanical engineering degree, racking up flight hours in my down time. I got my pilot's license the day I turned seventeen." His expression sours. "The Naval academy rejected my application the next year when I submitted it, so I went through ROTC instead. Did the other two degrees at the same time."
Slider shifts, mouth twisting. "Why'd they reject it if you were already so qualified?"
Mav shrugs.
Ice figures he just doesn't want to share judging by the annoyance buried in his eyes, so he moves on from the subject. "But you chose to pilot? Even with all that education?"
"I'm where I belong."
Goose wraps an arm over his pilot's shoulder and squishes him playfully. "You certainly are, pal."
*******
Over a month later, when Maverick and Goose save Ice and Slider's lives over the Indian Ocean, Hollywood and Wolf find the four of them with beaming grins and hugs all around. The two of them are still soaking wet from their unplanned swim. Mav doesn't hesitate to hug them again anyway.
"Hey, Mav!" Hollywood hollers over the noise of the flight deck. "Do you have an extended warranty on repairs or something? We need a few dents buffed out."
Mav beams and shares a round of laughs with his new friends. "Sorry, buddy! She's FUBAR!"
"Damn," Wolf pouts, the grin plastered on his face ruining the effect entirely. "There goes the deposit."