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Tom Kazansky quickly wove through the base halls, heart in his throat as he looked around almost frantically for the supply room he’d been sent to. He wasn’t sure if he was really supposed to be wandering unsupervised on a Naval base at fourteen, but his father thought it’d be good for him.
Show him where he’d be spending a large portion of his life, let him see that he’d need to toughen up if he wanted any chance of making it here.
Teach him that he’d never belong here or anywhere, not truly, but that this was his destiny regardless.
He could feel his blood rushing in his ears as he checked door after door, but all of them were offices or large meeting rooms. Tom had followed the Admiral’s directions to the letter, had gone to the end of the hallway outside his office and taken the left, then the second right he came to. The plain brown door should have been right there, but it hadn’t been. It seemed he was cursed with this inability to do even the simplest of tasks.
(It had crossed his mind that the Admiral was sending him on a wild goose chase just for an excuse to punish him once they were home.)
He firmly told himself not to think like that.
Any mistakes were his responsibility, not his father’s.
Selfish brat.
He swallowed hard, fighting the helpless whine that wanted to escape him as he forced his legs to go just a little bit faster. It had to be somewhere around here. It had to. Base was mostly empty on the weekend–Kazanskys don’t rest, Thomas. We work for what we get.–so it wasn’t like he had a lot of available help. Not even the Admiral’s secretary was here, hence Tom being sent out at all.
Shoot, he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to find his way back to Father’s office; every hall looked exactly the same as the one before it. This was the first time he’d ever been on base–Mom had never wanted him here when he was just a kid (he had to steady his already shaky breathing at the thought)–and the place appeared to be a labyrinth.
Not that he’d dare go back to Father without proof of succeeding his one task.
He had one job.
He was a failure.
Anxiety had a firm grip on his ribs, an unending weight on his chest that hurt and made breathing hard but he couldn’t focus on that because he had to do what Father told him. He had to be enough and–
“Hey!” The startled voice broke him abruptly from his thoughts and he flinched back sharply, backing up instinctively while his breath caught up to the movement, slamming into the back of his throat. He glanced up at the man who’d just walked around the corner, feeling so stupid and so trapped–
“Hey,” This time the man’s voice was softer, gentler as he glanced up the hall Tom had just come down, brow furrowed. “Where’d you come from, kid?” Tom swallowed hard, scanning the man. His insignia said he was a lieutenant commander, and he had neatly-trimmed dark brown hair with a matching walnut mustache that was turned down with his frown. Blue eyes were watching him carefully, but they looked so dramatically different from Father’s.
While Father’s gaze was always sharp and derisive–cutting–this man’s gaze was warm and compassionate. Worried.
Tom swallowed hard, hoping his answer wouldn’t land him in more trouble than he’d already be in with Father. “I-I’m here with my father. Sir.”
“Your father?” The man’s posture had eased and he shifted his weight, again glancing around like he expected the Admiral to show up any minute.
Tom managed a shaky nod. “Y-Yes, Sir. Admiral Kazansky, Sir.” The name caught the guy’s attention, an unidentifiable emotion flickering in his eyes, there and gone before Tom could hope to put a name to it.
“Admiral Kazansky, huh?” The man murmured. He contemplated that for a moment, though why Tom couldn’t begin to imagine–didn’t want to think about how terribly his father treated those ranked beneath him–then turned an easy smile on Tom.
“Well, son, I’m Lieutenant Commander Mike Metcalf; but you can call me Viper.” Tom perked up despite himself. ‘Viper’ sounded like a callsign, and a cool one at that. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking if the man was a pilot.
“T-Thomas Kazansky, Sir.” Tom loathed introducing himself by his full name like he loathed little else. However, he never dared to go by ‘Tom,’ for fear of what his father would do when he inevitably found out. He blinked in surprise when, not only did the officer continue to smile at him, but offered a hand to shake. Tom did so hesitantly, the gentle warmth a far contrast to any contact he was used to.
“Nice to meet you, Thomas.” Tom found himself relaxing, just a bit. Some of the deep-rooted anxiety in his chest lifted at the way Viper said his name. He still hated it with a passion, but the kindness was a far sight better than the Admiral’s churlish snaps that always had his name sounding like a curse.
Viper glanced around a third time, that frown threatening to reappear. “Where’s your father, Thomas? You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I–He sent me to get something.” Tom stuttered. He could feel a flush working its way up his neck and fought the urge to duck his head, meeting that concerned gaze head on.
—look me in the eye when you speak to me, Thomas—
—cowardly worm—
“Oh yeah? What’d he send you for?”
“Paper. He has some work to do and ran out. He told me where the supply closet is but,” Tom finally gave in and glanced away from that intent gaze, ignoring the desire to squirm under the man’s focus, “I guess I got lost.” And he waited. Waited for the anger, the derision, the scorn. Waited to hear what a failure he was, what a joke.
A warm chuckle had his attention snapping back to the man in front of him. His shock mounted tenfold when said man winked at him, lip twitched up in an almost playful grin. “Well, lucky for you I happen to know my way around here pretty well. C’mon, I’ll help you complete your errand and make sure you get back to your father all right.”
Tom perked up hopefully at the promise of being saved a beating, but then hesitated, “I don’t want to waste any of your time, Sir. If…If you could just give me directions I’m sure I’d be fine.”
Viper hummed, stepping closer and reaching up to grab Tom’s shoulder and gently guide him up the hall he’d just come down. Tom tensed instinctively, body going rigid at the touch and internally panicking when there was no pain that he needed to hide a reaction to. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act when touch wasn’t painful.
“I’m sure you would, Thomas, but I don’t have anything too pressing going on right now. Leastwise not so much I can’t make sure you’re all set. Wouldn’t want to worry your father if you were gone for too long.”
Tom bit back a scoff at the idea. Father would probably be pleased to be rid of him. He was always complaining about Tom eating his food and sleeping under his roof. Tom knew that the Admiral would be shipping him off to Academy before he turned 18. He’d be lucky if his summer after graduating high school consisted of anything other than intense studying and workouts in preparation.
“Is this your first time on base?” Tom jumped at the amiable question. Adults never cared to make conversation with him. He was supposed to be seen, not heard. An occasional “How are you?” and “Where’s your father at, kid?” were the most he ever got by way of interaction with the officers that visited his house. What was even more peculiar was that it sounded like Viper was genuinely curious, the sincerity as alien as everything else about the man.
“Y-Yes, Sir.”
Another warm chuckle, the sound absolutely foreign to Tom. The hand on his shoulder squeezed lightly and he found himself beginning to relax, just a little. The weight on his chest was lifting now that he didn’t have to bear Father’s expectations of him alone, even if only for a few moments.
“Told you already, kid, you can call me Viper.”
“Is that your callsign?” The words came out far too excited, far too childish, and Tom winced, biting his lip to shut himself up, but the damage was already done. He’d be lucky if Viper was still willing to help him after he’d spoken out of turn.
To his surprise Viper’s smile only widened. “Yeah, kid. It is.” A pause, then a careful, “I take it you don’t share your old man’s opinion on pilots?”
Red hot shame burned through him and he shook his head, gaze dropping to the ground like a stone in a pond. He didn’t have to imagine the things Father had said. He heard it himself all the time.
Especially when Father was drunk.
“N-No, Sir. I don’t.” He hesitated, then, quieter, “I’m sorry.”
Viper shook his head, squeezing Tom’s shoulder again. “No point in apologizing for someone else’s opinion, Thomas. It’s a pretty common idea amongst a few of the older officers, anyway. It’s not your fault, so don’t try taking the blame.” Tom nodded, a small, childish part of him wishing he could tell the man that he was taught to take the blame for everyone else’s mistakes. It was always his fault. He was never good enough.
He was never enough, period.
“Here we are.” Viper’s voice was brighter now and Tom glanced back at the promised closet door, shoulders slumping in relief. Viper opened it, hand finally leaving Tom’s shoulder and he found himself immediately missing the grounding weight. The kindness the gesture signified was comforting in this unfamiliar place.
Viper reached up, pulling the string to switch the lightbulb on and bright white light poured over the shelves. Viper hummed and Tom came to stand next to him, both of them scanning the room for a moment.
“Ah, here we are.” Viper stepped further into the closet, reaching up for a box with the neat label “TYPEWRITER PAPER” on the side. Tom would have needed to track down something to stand on to reach it, and by the way Viper held it the box was heavy.
He pushed away the thoughts of what would have happened if he’d come in here alone. Of potentially hurting himself retrieving the box. Or worse, of making a mess in the storage closet.
Viper set the box in an empty space on a lower shelf, allowing Tom to watch as he pulled the lid off and glanced at him questioningly. “He say how much he wanted, son?”
Tom shook his head wordlessly, cold terror seeping into his bones. Father hadn’t…had he? Surely Tom would remember if Father had specified how much he needed. But how much was Tom supposed to bring? He had no idea how quickly the Admiral went through paper, nor how much he wanted to keep on hand in his office. What if he brought too much? Or too little? What if–
“Thomas?” He flinched at his name–at that curse–shooting a wide-eyed look at Viper. The man had stepped closer, hands hovering and brow creased in apparent concern. “Kid? You okay?”
He nodded shakily. That tightness was back in his chest and his breaths were too fast and shallow to be helpful in unwinding the painful weight.
“Hey.” Viper’s focus was still unwaveringly on him as the man slowly fell into a crouch in front of Tom, holding his hands out, palms up. “Look at me, buddy, there we go. You’re alright. There’s nothing to worry about, ‘kay? You’re alright.”
Tom managed to shake his head weakly, fighting the instinct to step back away from the officer. He was supposed to stay still. Endure. No matter what it was, he had to take it like a man. Like a Kazansky. He shouldn’t be acting like this, falling apart like this. He knew better and yet he’d gotten stuck in his head and allowed his fear to control his response and now Viper knew how truly pathetic he was and Tom was wasting his time, and–
“Can you give me your hands, kiddo?” He blinked, forcing himself to focus on the words long enough to actually obey. Slowly, he did as he was told, flinching when they made contact.
Viper squeezed his hands gently, thumbs brushing soothingly over his knuckles. “You feel that?”
He managed to give a small nod, not able to decide if he wanted to pull away or embrace the comfort being offered, no matter how small. No one had ever stayed with him when he was like this. At least, not without making it worse. But Viper didn’t. If anything, the man was making it easier to get out of his head.
Viper nodded approvingly. “Good, now just focus on that, okay? Eyes on me, c’mon.”
Tom’s gaze flicked up instinctively–he hadn’t even noticed that he was staring at their clasped hands–and something in his chest stuttered at how kind Viper’s gaze was. Tom had grown up hating the color blue because that was the color of his father’s eyes–not to mention his own–but it was so, so different when the gaze trained on him was warm. When he was met with compassion and not disgust. Warmth and not frigidity. Understanding and not anger.
The anvil seemed to have moved off his chest and the luxury that was air was becoming easier and easier to obtain. Viper squeezed his hands again, still rubbing his knuckles absently as he waited patiently for…what? Tom wasn’t sure why Viper was still here at all. He hadn’t been sure why the man had voluntarily decided to help Tom do what his father bid him, but this went even further than that. Tom was acting like a freak, panicking like a child when he was supposed to be strong, be in control. He wasn’t supposed to break like this, especially around someone else. And around an officer, of all things.
His recently reacquired breath caught in his throat at the thought. If Viper told Father how Tom had acted… He suppressed a shudder.
“Please don’t tell Father.” The words were little more than a faint plea, soft enough that Tom worried he might have to repeat them. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to work up the nerve to say it again. Thankfully–or unfortunately–Viper heard him.
Tom watched as confusion and mounting concern eased into Viper’s expression, shrinking back guiltily. The last thing he’d wanted to do was bother Viper, the man was far kinder to him than anyone Tom had ever met. But he needed to keep this mistake between them. He knew that there was a good chance that he was already looking at some type of punishment upon arriving home. It scared him to think what the Admiral would cook up if he learned what an embarrassment Tom was being.
“Thomas,” His spiked nerves had him flinching at his name again and he mentally cursed himself for falling apart so easily. Viper’s brow furrowed and his voice gentled more than before, something Tom didn’t think was possible. “Your father really should know–”
“No!” Tom nearly pulled his hands back to defend himself from the thrashing he’d get for interrupting an adult, but Viper tightened his grip slightly, gently keeping him in place. Panic was making his throat close up and he shook his head desperately, “No, please, please don’t. Please. I…I’ll do something. Anything. But please don’t tell Father.” He wasn’t sure exactly what he could do in return for this favor, but whatever Viper thought fitting payment he’d do without protest.
Even if it meant that painfully familiar echo of wandering hands and too-close breath that accompanied visits by the Admiral’s peers.
Anything to keep Father from learning about this.
To his surprise, Viper paled at his words, shaking his head hurriedly. “What? No. No, kid, you don’t…” He blew out a sigh, squeezing Tom’s hands while he turned his head to stare at the floor, gathering his thoughts. Tom remained still and stiff, waiting silently for the officer’s verdict. “I won’t tell your father if you don’t want me to, okay? It’s none of my business anyway, alright? If you want this to stay between us, it will. And you don’t need to do anything for me, you hear me? You don’t owe me anything.”
Tom’s brow furrowed and he went to protest, but a stern look from Viper had the words dying on his tongue. He simply nodded, quieting again as he waited for whatever the man decided to do next.
Viper studied him for a long moment, then sighed, squeezing his hands once more and releasing him. “You think you’re ready to head back to your father, kiddo?” Tom barely withheld his wince, nodding instead. Normal kids were happy to see their parents. He had to be normal. Not…whatever this was.
“Alright.” Viper nodded, to himself or to Tom, Tom wasn’t sure, and finally stood from his crouched position, returning to the box. Tom watched warily as Viper grabbed a small stack of paper off the top before replacing the lid and reaching up to switch the light off in one smooth motion.
“C’mon.” The command was as soft as the hand once more on his shoulder and Tom allowed the officer to lead him out of the room. Viper closed the door behind them before guiding Tom down the hall. They took a left and Tom could see Father’s door. His gut twisted. Father had given him the wrong directions.
Maybe it was a genuine mistake. The Admiral didn’t go to the supply closet, he sent someone.
Tom wished he could believe it.
As they approached the door Tom reached for the papers Viper held, silently grateful when the man handed them over wordlessly.
Tom sent him a small smile, though he could feel the edges waver at the thought of returning to the lion’s den. “Thank you for all your help, Sir.”
With that, Tom pulled in a deep breath to steady himself, closing his eyes for a moment and schooling his features. Thanks to years of practice it took no time at all for his expression to become completely blank and he entered the secretary’s office, crossing the room to knock on Father’s door.
“Enter.”
He swallowed hard and did so, moving briskly to stand in front of the Admiral’s desk.
“Took you long enough.” Father sneered, glaring at him derisively before his attention was caught by something behind Tom.
Not something, someone.
Tom hadn’t realized that Viper followed him in, had assumed that the man would leave once he relinquished the teenager he didn’t want to deal with in the first place.
Viper stepped neatly up to his side, coming to attention with a soft, “Admiral.” His posture was a perfect replica of Tom’s, save for the salute.
Tom was forbidden the honor of saluting until he had earned his uniform. Until he learned the meaning of ‘respect,’ and ‘dignity,’ and ‘honor.’
Father rose to his feet slowly, expression smoothing out to something that suggested he was barely tolerating Viper’s presence, and Tom internally bristled at the disrespect.
“At ease.” Father’s gaze flicked to Tom for a moment, the burning intensity in those blue orbs absolutely furious and it took everything in him not to shrink back. “What is your business here, Metcalf?”
“I ran into your son in the halls and wondered if I might be of some assistance, Sir.” Viper answered cooly and Tom was barely able to keep his confusion from bleeding into his expression. “I know how busy you must be,” A disbelieving scoff from the Admiral had Tom mentally wincing, but Viper simply ignored the rude interruption and carried on, “and thought that I could show Thomas around base so that you could have a chance to complete your work uninterrupted.”
What?!
Confusion was swiftly replaced by shock and if his father wasn’t in the room Tom would have spun on Viper in surprise. Viper was coming in here, putting himself directly in the Admiral’s line of fire, just to try to get Tom away from his father? Why?
It didn’t make a lick of sense to Tom, but it wasn’t as if he was currently able to ask.
Father also appeared surprised by the proposition, though the emotion was quickly replaced with disdain. “I don’t need someone like you interfering with my personal business, Metcalf. The last thing I need is my son getting the wrong idea.”
By ‘wrong idea’ Father undoubtedly referred to being a pilot, something Tom had already tried to bring up. That had ended with a strong hand around his neck shaking him as he was once more spewed the spiel about the Kazansky legacy.
Nowhere in that legacy was there room for a pilot. Disgraces to the Navy, Father called them.
Viper remained unphased.
“As you wish, Sir. I simply assumed that if a man as important as yourself was dedicating your free time to your work, you’d prefer not having to worry about a teenager so that you could leave here sooner. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”
Father’s eyes narrowed and Tom held his breath, not sure at all what reaction he should be expecting. He’d never seen a situation like this before, had never witnessed a lower-ranking officer who didn’t cower under the Admiral’s steely glare, let alone pushed an issue like this. And this issue was concerning him. Tom.
Before Viper, Tom had never been sure if any of the officers he met even remembered he existed unless they wanted their glasses topped.
Father’s gaze flicked once more to Tom, lips turning down in the slightest scowl. There was something in his expression that told Tom that this wasn’t over, and he barely stifled the shiver that ran down his spine at the thought.
“Fine. I’ll be leaving at fifteen-hundred.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Tom couldn’t believe his ears. He barely had enough sense of self to set the papers that had started this whole thing on Father’s desk, waiting stock-still alongside Viper for the Admiral’s curt, “Dismissed.”
The burning look the Admiral shot him before allowing him to leave wasn’t lost on Tom, and the blond knew there’d be something terrible awaiting him at home. Somehow, it didn’t bother him the way it normally would.
Because right now? Right now he was free. He’d taken all the Admiral’s punishments before and would again, he’d survive it. There was no point in ruining what might actually be a good afternoon worrying over something as inescapable as Father’s wrath.
The moment they were back in the hall, two doors protecting them from the Admiral’s sight, Tom slumped. He desperately hoped the look he sent Viper properly conveyed his relieved appreciation, because he knew nothing he could possibly say would describe just how grateful he was to not be trapped with the Admiral for the next few hours.
“I know you didn’t have to do that, Sir, but thank you.”
Viper chuckled, shaking his head and beginning to meander down the hall. “Don’t mention it, Thomas. It’s no big deal.”
It is to me. Tom thought.
But all he said was, “But Father will be angry with you, Sir.”
“I told you, you don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ you’re not under my command.” The reprimand was painfully warm, though, as Tom trotted alongside the officer. “And I can afford to have him a little angry at me. I’m actually stationed in California, I had some meetings I couldn’t get out of over here, but I’ll be flying home soon.”
Tom found himself unfairly disappointed at that, even if he was glad that Viper wouldn’t have to live in fear of the Admiral on his account.
“You wouldn’t happen to be interested in seeing the airfield, would you, kid?”
Tom immediately perked up, fighting to keep his tone from betraying his interest. “I…If I’m allowed, S-Viper?” The callsign felt strange on his tongue, but judging by the soft grin that graced the officer’s features, the informality truly was allowed. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Viper chuckled warmly, shaking his head and sending Tom a wink. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Tom couldn’t help his small smile at the playful words, dutifully trailing Viper down the winding halls and outside. They crossed a mostly-barren parking lot, continuing along the pavement for a few minutes before reaching the airfield.
Knowing that Father would sooner kill him than willingly bring him back here, Tom tried to take in everything he could about the place. Commit it to memory so that he’d have something to look back on the next time he was thrown outside for a few nights.
The ramp housed a couple rows each of Phantoms and Tomcats and Tom was content just seeing them from a distance. But Viper continued walking, chatting for a moment with someone who came up to them and introducing Tom like it was normal. Like Tom was actually meant to be there. The guy waved them on with a small grin and an easy, “Have a nice day!” that Viper readily returned and just like that they were actually approaching the planes.
His breath caught as they got closer, eyes flicking rapidly over the jets with acute interest.
“I flew one of these in Vietnam.” Viper murmured, motioning to the Phantom they were standing near. Tom swallowed hard, nodding when he couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. Glancing up at the officer, he realized that Viper’s gaze was soft and far away, focused on something Tom couldn’t see. But just as soon as the expression arrived it left, flitting away as Viper continued strolling between the planes. Tom kept an easy pace beside him, drinking in the aircraft.
“The Phantoms are the first jet to be flown by three branches: the Navy, the Marines, and the Air Force. They’re versatile, able to do everything you could ask for in a fighter jet.” Tom paid careful attention to the casual description of the craft, the information he could get from the library on Navy fighters limited.
“They’ve broken a lot of records, too?” He asked hesitantly and Viper glanced at him in surprise, a pleased grin tugging at his lip.
“Sixteen. And that includes absolute speed and absolute altitude.” Viper confirmed, pride lacing his voice as he glanced up at the Phantom they were closest to. His gaze dropped back to Tom, cerulean gaze curious. “Thinkin’ about being a pilot, kid?”
Tom flushed despite himself, ducking his head a bit and forcing himself not to shrug, as he knew that doing so was beyond rude.
“Maybe. Father doesn’t approve, though.”
Viper sighed, almost sadly, and watching the officer out of the corner of his eye Tom saw him nod. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. You ever decide to go for it, though, you’ve got my support.”
Tom’s lip twitched a little and he nodded, fingers curling into fists and anxiety fluttering in his chest at the thought of what pursuing a career as a pilot would entail.
But…there was more than anxiety making his heart beat hard. There was also keen excitement. An emotion that hadn’t graced him since Mom passed.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Hey, now,” Viper lightly cuffed his shoulder, the unexpected contact making him tense for the breath it took his mind to catch up and remind him that Viper hadn’t hurt him, yet. “I thought we were past all this ‘sir’ stuff.”
Tom waited, nerves alight, for a real reprimand. For a bitter scolding and the warmth in his chest to be extinguished by biting cold criticism.
But it didn’t come.
“I’m sorry, S–” It took a moment, but he carefully murmured, “Viper?”
The name wasn’t meant to come out like a question–Kazanskys are confident, Thomas–but Viper simply smiled at him.
“There you go.” A chuckle that teetered the edge of fond, and then, “Don’t worry, kid, you’ll get it.”
Painfully aware of the fact that he, in fact, wouldn’t, Tom instead flicked his gaze up from his feet as he mentally reminded himself that being here was a privilege he wasn’t going to ever get again. He had to make the most of it.
Distracted as he was, Tom didn’t notice the soft, concerned look Viper was giving him.
Nor did he realize that Viper had a talk with the Admiral before flying back West. A respectful talk, one where Tom’s behavior was heavily praised.
And much like Tom had no idea this conversation occurred, Viper had no idea that the moment Tom and the Admiral returned home from base that first day, Tom had been pushed down the stairs of the cellar. The stone at the bottom left a nasty cut above the teen’s eyebrow and the nearly two days Tom sat down there in the cold, musty dark were brightened only by the memory of walking side by side with Viper out on the tarmac; dreaming of the day he could escape the Admiral’s hands and fly.