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The first time it happened, they’d already been friends for two years.
For that two years, Maverick had managed to hide his nightmares from his friends, had managed to hide waking up in a cold sweat and a scream on the tip of his tongue, had managed to hide the sobs that shook his body.
Survivor’s Guilt.
That’s what he’d heard it be called once.
But something changed after Maverick nearly lost Slider on a mission.
Suddenly, the nightmares weren’t just of Goose’s death, but also of the tall asshole that had decided to take Maverick under his wing.
And then they started living together.
It was only meant to be a temporary thing. Carole was out of town with Bradley, and Slider needed a place to stay for a few days. Of course it made sense for Maverick to offer up the spare room.
He hadn’t expected that it would lead to waking up from yet another nightmare of Slider crashing and burning to a large, warm hand squeezing his shoulder.
“Mav? Mav, it’s alright, it’s just a dream,” the older man’s voice filtered in, barely audible over the rushing in Maverick’s ears.
It didn’t seem to bother Slider that he wasn’t responding though, since he kept whispering something calming to him.
“I’m sorry,” Maverick eventually managed to rasp out. At some point, he wasn’t sure when, he’d sat up and was leaning into the hand Slider still had on his shoulder.
“What? Hey, what’re you apologizing for, Doll?” Slider asked quietly, tone gentle.
“For waking you. For disturbing your night.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you there. You’re not disturbing me, and I was already awake, so you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Slider soothed. “What’s got you so shaken up, Mav?”
At first, Maverick wanted to protest, then he wanted to brush it all off, but he finally settled on a quiet and reluctant, “Nightmare.”
Keeping his eyes down, Maverick listened as Slider moved, sitting down on the bed next to him. Their knees knocked against each other, separated by layers of blankets.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Yes.
Maverick shook his head.
Slider hummed, accepting his answer apparently. “How often?”
Maverick couldn’t help his grimace, which probably was all the answer the RIO needed.
“Goose wasn’t your fault,” Slider said gently, settling a hand on Maverick’s knee. “You know that, right?”
Grimacing again, Maverick picked at a stray thread on his blanket. “Wasn’t about him this time,” he admitted quietly.
That seemed to surprise the older man, judging by his silence. “Then, who…?” he eventually asked.
You.
Maverick didn’t reply, just staring down at his hands.
There wasn’t a way to answer without making things weird. Without changing the way things were between them.
Slider was smart, though. Too smart. Which was the exact reason Maverick grimaced and his hands tightened into fists when Slider spoke in something close to a whisper and asked, “Me?”
Something in Maverick’s body language seemed to answer the question, and Slider shifted to better face his friend.
“Pete,” he murmured, squeezing Maverick’s knee with the hand he still had resting there. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” he continued. “I’m not going anywhere, alright?”
Maverick didn’t look up at him, he couldn’t. Not with the raging emotions storming across him. Instead, he shrunk more within himself, gaze fixed on where Slider’s hand rested on his knee.
A physical connection to the present.
The weight and warmth helped ground him.
And Slider’s voice helped distract him from the thoughts racing through his mind.
“You don’t have to tell me shit, Pete, but I’m right here, okay? I’m not hurt, I’m not dying, we’re both safe at your place,” he was saying quietly. “Just let me know what you need right now. Talking to you seems to be helping?”
Slider had noticed he was more with it, then.
He must’ve nodded when Slider continued.
“Alright then, talking it is. Don’t tell him I told you this, but Tom finds me talking about completely random stuff helps him too. Says it’s like helpful background noise. You two are a lot alike, you know? Both stubborn idiots, you both are the best pilots up there, and I know you both will keep me safe up there. No matter what.” He paused for a moment, then squeezed Maverick's knee.
“Was it about the close call I had?”
Maverick nodded a little.
“You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”
A pause.
“Pete, it wasn’t your fault. You saved me. It was your quick thinking that got both of us out of there alive, and the fact that I caught some shrapnel from our damaged jet was not your fault.”
“Should have been me,” Maverick whispered, pulling his knees to his chest. “‘m not safe. Should stick to being a solo.”
Slider sighed heavily and stood. For a moment, Maverick thought he was going to leave, only for that notion to vanish with a yelp as he was picked up. Then, Slider got back onto the bed and settled Maverick next to him, before finally getting comfortable as well while still holding the other man close. The new position he found himself in was lying partially on top of Slider’s chest, his head over his heart. Slider’s large hand settled heavily on his back, both keeping him close and grounding him.
Despite himself, Maverick found himself relaxing and closing his eyes. The steady movement of Slider’s breathing, the rhythmic beating of his heart, it all helped to finally settle the younger man’s own anxious breathing and racing heart.
“You are safe, Petey. I understand why you feel different, and it’s okay if you don’t believe me right now. I promise you, you are one of the safest pilots I know. Because I know you know more about our planes than anyone else. I know the stupid stunts you pull are because you know you can do them safely. I know that your priority is to bring everyone home. I trust you with my life, Pete,” Slider soothed gently, slowly rubbing Maverick’s back. “And I promise I will remind you of this for as long as you need me to, and it’s okay if you don’t believe me right now. I’m not going anywhere.”
“… Thought psychology journals were above your reading level,” Maverick mumbled after a moment, refusing to admit that what Slider was doing and saying was helping. And he refused to admit to himself just how close he felt to falling back to sleep.
Slider snorted, the movement being felt by Maverick. “Brat,” he accused.
It sounded almost… Fond?
“Though, I will give you credit for not taking the obvious option and bitching about how I smell,” Slider continued. Okay, definitely amused.
Still, Maverick just grumbled and poked him, falling asleep not too long afterwards.
After that night, the two found themselves in similar positions every time Slider heard Maverick having a nightmare. That soon turned into Maverick being comfortable enough to reach out when he needed the help.
Things changed again when Slider called Maverick after a nightmare of his own.
Ice commented on how close they’d become not too long after.
Said he was glad, because he’d made the decision to take a desk job to pursue his goal of becoming an Admiral. Asked if Maverick wouldn’t mind looking after their RIO while he still wanted to fly.
The first deployment after that, the pair ended up bunking together every night.
When they returned, something had changed between them. Their friends couldn’t help but comment, couldn’t help but ask what had changed.
Both rejected the claims, insisted they were just friends.
Still… Gazes and touch lingered, thoughts strayed, and conversations turned longer.
It really was only a matter of time.