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797—that was the number of sheep he could count to before going absolutely batty. That was it. Couldn’t even make it to 800!
For some reason that drove him even more mad. Why couldn’t he just do it? Why couldn’t he just keep counting until he reached a nice number? Why did he have to stay on 797? What even was 797?
Fuck.
Maverick blinked wearily, turning to stare at the red lights that seemed to mock him. 2:17 am—-13 minutes had passed. Only 13 minutes. Tears of utter exhaustion and frustration stung the corners of his eyes.
He was going insane.
For the last three nights all he’d been able to manage was about 45 minutes of sleep before he’d wake up and spend the next several hours staring into the dark abyss, begging for sleep.
He was going crazy.
Literally .
Last night, he actually thought he was wet, that he was treading water in the Pacific. He found himself moving his arms in bed like he was swimming. Who the hell does that?
It wasn’t until he’d tumbled out of bed that he’d stopped, and took even longer to realize he’d never been in the water in the first place.
Tonight, so far, he hadn’t felt quite that out of it. Instead, he just felt cold . He felt as though he was buried in snow, unable to get warm no matter how many layers he put on.
Was this ever going to end? Was he ever going to be able to sleep ? That’s all he wanted. He just wanted to sleep; to sink into the dark oblivion and get some real rest.
Always were such a pain in the ass .
Maverick shot upright, gasping as the voice reverberated around his head.
“M-M-Mr. Jones?”
That didn’t make sense. The man had to be dead by now— and he was in Pennsylvania, not California. There was no way one of his foster fathers was actually in his bedroom. Right?
Shit , he needed to sleep.
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But he didn’t. Sleep eluded him for another 36 hours in fact, and he found himself staring at his bike with uncertainty. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been staring at it. He definitely couldn’t ride it.
But Slider and the others were supposed to be at the bar waiting for him, weren’t they? Maybe he should just walk to the bar? That might help to tire him out? Walking there and back should help to make him worn out enough to sleep—-it had to, right?
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Slider frowned as he watched the pilot’s head bob back sharply yet again . What the hell was going on? Was he seriously dozing off in the bar? He checked his watch—it was only 2000 hours, way too early for Maverick to be this tired, and yet, here he was, seemingly nodding off amidst the increasingly loud atmosphere.
“Mav,” Slider nudged him lightly, frowning when the kid straightened like he’d slapped him, eyes wide. “Easy bud— you feelin’ okay? Seem a little sleepy…”
“I,” Maverick cleared his throat. “I’m alright, honest. Little tired, I guess. I’m gonna—-uh, I’m gonna head out, okay? I’ll catch you and the other guys later—maybe tomorrow?”
Slider’s eyes narrowed. “Yeahhhh, we’re supposed to be getting together to grill, remember?”
“Right, right I know,” Mav dismissed, standing a bit unsteadily. “I’ll see ya then, Sk— Sli .”
“Alright, what the hell, Pete? Are you drunk ?”
“What? No—I’m just fine. Maybe a little tired but—nothin’ a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” the shorter pilot shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Nope.”
“No?” the way the other man’s face scrunched up as he tried to decipher Sli’s meaning would have been endearing any other time but now? Now, it was alarming.
“ No ,” he confirmed, standing too, wrapping an arm around Maverick’s shoulders. “I’m coming with you. You’re not getting on your death trap like this. I don’t know if you’re sick or drunk or what but you’re not driving.”
“I’m fine ,” he whined, but he let Slider lead him out of the bar without pulling away. “Was gonna walk anyway—-bike’s at home.”
More alarms blared in Ron’s head.
The kid looked off. He was a bit paler, definitely not sleeping as much as he should if the nodding off and dark circles under his eyes were any indication. Ron even thought he felt slight tremors traveling the smaller man’s frame. What was going on?
“Talk to me kiddo,” he instructed as they moved to the parking lot. “What’s wrong?”
“S’nothin’ Sli—honest,” Maverick stifled an ill timed yawn, much to Slider’s amusement.
“Wanna try that again?”
“Just can’t sleep,” he shrugged, tipping a bit to the left as Ron removed his arm.
He quickly reengaged, pulling the pilot into his side. “Shit, kid—what does that mean? Like didn’t sleep last night or—-?”
Maverick shivered suddenly, causing Ron to tuck him closer.
“Buddy?”
“I—I’m so tired, Ron—j’st wanna sleep—wanna stay sleep.”
“You’re having trouble sleeping?” Ron moved to the passenger side of the truck, helping his friend up onto the seat. “Nightmares?”
Maverick started giggling, a high pitch, manic sort of sound. Ron jogged around to the driver’s side of the truck, climbing up.
“Pete?”
“I—fuck, I wish I was havin’ nightmares.”
“What do you mean?” he squeezed his friend’s shoulder supportively, frowning as Pete tipped over to lay against his shoulder, tears starting to soak his shirt.
“I—I’ve been up for almost 4 days—” he sniffed and Slider wrapped an arm around the kid, pulling him close. “C-can’t sleep more than 45 min’tes before I wake up—-goin’ crazy, Sli—-hoosinatin—-”
“Hallucinating?” Slider pulled a hoodie from the back, wrapping it around Mav. “What do you mean, kid?”
“Thought I w’s swimmin’----then thought Mr. Jones was yellin’ at me— hated me—haven’t seen ‘im since I was 10—-’m scared, Sli—-”
“You’re just exhausted buddy. Once you get some sleep you’ll feel better,” at least Slider hoped he would. He must be pretty fuckin’ exhausted to be hallucinating—and yet he was aware he was hallucinating? Maverick was of course weird enough to be cognizant of that .
“I—I’m tryin’!” his voice broke. “I—I counted sheep, I ran miles , I drank warm milk, I listened to music—- I can’t do it, Sli!”
“Shh, okay, okay buddy—-” Slider soothed, hugging him close. “I’m gonna help you, Mav, I promise. Just take it easy—-let’s work on getting home, okay? First step…”
He tucked the younger man into his side, keeping the hoodie wrapped around his shoulders. He turned the radio on low volume, easing his truck out of the parking lot.
Maverick sniffed, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he shivered once more. “M s’rry Sli—”
“Nope, no sorrys,” Ron dismissed, bumping the heat up a bit. “Just driving for now, okay? That’s all we’re going to think about. Driving and—--ah I know. How familiar are you with constellations?”
“Like—-like stars and shit?”
“Mhmm— did you know that Andromeda—-”
And so Slider began to softly regale the pilot with all of the details of all of the constellations and galaxies he could remember. He kept his voice even and his tone far gentler than he usually used with the kid, smiling when he felt him sink heavily against his shoulder.
“There we go, bub. Let’s see if we can get you past 45 minutes,” he muttered, launching into a small pseudo rant about what he thought about the current state of the space program as he drove endless circles around Miramar.
It was fitting that Maverick was soothed by tricks usually reserved for infants.
Slider settled in to drive a bit longer, keeping the younger man tucked into his side.
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It was nearly two hours later when he pulled into his driveway, Maverick a floppy heavyweight against him. The kid was still sound asleep, and he considered it quite the accomplishment to have made it past the supposed 45 minute limit.
Sudden movement on the porch caught his eye and he sighed when he saw his pilot coming over to his side of the car, patented glacial frown in place.
“Shh—-,” he warned as he opened the door slowly. “If you wake him, Tom, I swear—”
“ This is where you were? What, driving the baby around the block?” Ice whispered.
“Kid wasn’t acting right,” Slider matched his quiet tone, gently brushing Mav’s hair out of his face. “Seemed almost drunk so I followed him out to the parking lot and he—-he hasn’t slept in nearly four days, Tom. Said he’s been hallucinating and keeps waking up and spendin’ hours just staring at nothing so I started driving. I was just going to bring him home but he fell asleep so I kept going, trying to keep him that way. Seems like he’s content as long as he’s touching me. It’s only when I pulled my arm away to change the radio that he showed any signs of waking up.”
“What?” Ice reached past his RIO to gently feel Maverick’s forehead. “He’s got a fever.”
“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Not too bad of one but it was bound to catch up to him.”
“So what now? Are you going to just sleep here or—-”
“Yeah, no, Tommy, thanks for that suggestion,” Ron snorted softly. “I love the kid but not enough to sacrifice ever being able to walk again. Need you to come here….I think if you sorta take my place here then I can go around to the other side and carry him inside the house from that way.”
“We can try,” Ice shrugged.
He reached back across Slider, gently supporting Maverick’s head and shoulders so he didn’t slump over when the RIO extricated himself.
The younger pilot’s eyes stayed shut but he whined, a pained, high pitch sort of sound that sounded far too broken and pitiful to come from a man as arrogant and capable as Maverick .
“Nnnnn—--no—--” the shorter man muttered softly.
“Easy bud,” Ice soothed, slipping into the seat to pull the other man closer, running a hand through his hair. “You’re okay. Sli’s still here….”
Slider moved around the other side of the truck, slowly opening the passenger door. With Ice’s help, he maneuvered the smaller pilot into his arms, hefting him to his chest like they’d done with Bradley a thousand times.
Maverick unconsciously burrowed closer to the RIO, and Sli tightened his arms reflexively.
“Ron?” Ice asked softly, watching his RIO melt .
“We’ve got to feed this kid,” he dismissed, moving to carry Maverick towards their housing.
Ice rolled his eyes and shut the truck doors, moving to open the door to the house so his RIO could carry Maverick inside more easily.
“Taking him to your room?” Ice whispered, closing the door behind them.
“Yeah, think you can grab some sweats for him?” Slider muttered back. “Doubt he’ll be comfortable in jeans.”
“Think he’ll stay asleep for that?”
“Seems to stay asleep as long as I’m talking or touching him somehow. Think he’s feeling a bit touch starved. We need to remember that.”
Tom nodded easily, moving to his room to grab a pair of sweatpants. By the time he got back to Slider’s room, the taller man had gently laid Pete out onto the bed, running a hand through his hair.
“Still sleeping?” Ice whispered.
“Out like a light,” Sli confirmed quietly.
Together, they maneuvered the younger man into comfier clothes, quietly talking to one another in an attempt to keep Mav relaxed and asleep.
It seemed to work, and Ron was able to slip into bed next to the kid without him ever waking fully.
Ice had grinned when Pete instantly tucked himself closer to the RIO, earning a halfhearted sigh from Slider.
“Like a heat seeking missile isn’t he?” The pilot teased, reaching over to gently feel his forehead. “Still feverish but it doesn’t seem to be drastically different then earlier.”
“I’ll watch it,” Slider conceded. “Headed to bed?”
“Probably,” Ice agreed. “But shout if you need anything. I’ll run to the store first thing in the morning to get stuff for French toast.”
“Oooh, someone’s making the kid’s favorite,” the RIO teased gently.
“Well you did say we needed to feed him,” Ice shot back softly, ruffling Mav’s hair one last time before tiptoeing to his own room.
Ron chuckled softly at his pilot’s antics before settling a bit lower on the bed, holding the kid close.
“I’ve gotcha, kiddo,” he promised.