I'll Fly With You

Ice was wearing shorts. It was the first thing Mav noticed when he arrived at Slider's barbecue, a six-pack in one hand and a bag of paper plates in the other. His habit of arriving late had made him the de-facto "call him to grab what we're missing on his way over," which endlessly benefited the other flyboys, but put a dent in his pocket he was too kind to fill.

Back to Ice. He stood by Slider at the grill, beer already in hand, chatting up his RIO as if no time has passed. Mav set his load down on a nearby table, trying to not get distracted by Ice's calves and the gorgeous way his skin had tanned into a beautiful golden.

His intense staring brought him eye-to-knee with a smudge of black script above his scapula as Ice turned to greet the newcomer.

Mav squinted, trying to parse out the letters. Ad astra per aspera. He had seen that before, on Sli—

"Hey Mav,"

"You have the same tattoo as Slider," Mav blurted out over Ice's greeting.

Ice flushed, Slider descending into crackling laughter, the taller slinging his arm over Ice's shoulders, pulling the blushing man into his side.

"I lost a bet," Ice muttered.

"A very stupid one," Slider added. "But now the world knows he's my friend forever."

The tips of Ice's ears bloomed red like the rest of him.

Fighting? Bickering? Flirting? All of the above uwu

We are sad today.

Meanwhile, Top Gun: Maverick opens with the main character basically stealing a plan, ejecting at a ridiculous speed, then walking into a diner with some wild hair and mild dehydration.

Carole has a small collection of jewelry on her dresser, Goose has a big bowl filled up over the years by keepsakes, pins and bottle caps, and he's even gotten a new watch once or twice, and Bradley is so far just like Mav, delighted by anything that shines in the sun. Mav just has to be careful that he can’t hurt himself with it.

Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning