FIC: i am writing graffiti on your body (Top Gun, Iceman/Maverick, PG-13)

[carlyinrome]

TITLE: i am writing graffiti on your body
RATING: PG-13
FANDOMS: Top Gun
PAIRINGS: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell/Tom "Iceman" Kazansky
SUMMARY: Pete Mitchell tells everyone he doesn’t like how bureaucratic and impersonal this soulmark business is, how there’s no surprise or spontaneity to it, but he’s lying. He likes knowing there’s someone out there who will love him no matter what, and he loves Iceman Kazansky a long time before he meets him. A Top Gun soulmate AU. Title from Ani DiFranco's "Both Hands."

On your tenth birthday, you get your soulmark. On your right wrist (eighty-seven percent of the time; they’ve done studies), in neat type, like the writing on your transcript or a court summons, the name of your soulmate, and the time and place you’ll meet them down to the minute.

Pete Mitchell tells everyone he doesn’t like how bureaucratic and impersonal it is, how there’s no surprise or spontaneity to it, but he’s lying. He likes knowing there’s someone out there who will love him no matter what, and he loves Iceman Kazansky a long time before he meets him.

On Pete Mitchell’s tenth birthday, his father is dead and his mother is gone in a different way, and he wakes up in the early hours of the morning, the sun not even up yet, to look for his mark. It’s on his left wrist (nine percent), and it reads in careful type:

Iceman Kazansky
Miramar, California
June 15th, 1986, 0900

Pete smiles, and traces the letters with his forefinger. He wishes it was sooner, of course, but it’s not so far away, and they’ll still be young when they meet. The name is odd, and he doesn’t know where Miramar is or why the numbers are like that (most people have regular clock numbers like he’s studied in school), but he already loves his soulmate.

After his mother dies, he sits alone in his room, too sad, somehow, to cry, and he traces the letters on his wrist and he thinks, "At least there’s someone left who loves me."

***

Maverick isn’t hiding his soulmark, but it’s not in the common place, and he wears his watch over it (because that’s where a man wears his watch; his father taught him that), so not everyone sees it right away. He’s already known Goose for a while, and they’ve already become great friends, by the first time Goose sees it. They are headed out of the showers, at their lockers in the belly of the ship getting ready, and Goose is staring at Maverick’s mark. Maverick gets a little uncomfortable, wondering what about it gives Goose pause, but then Goose says, “I know him.”

Maverick frowns. “You know who?”

“Your soulmate. Iceman Kazansky. We flew together for a little while, right outta flight school.”

At first, Maverick is so stunned he can’t move. He stops breathing for a second. He knows Iceman Kazansky is a real person. He knows he’s getting closer to meeting him every day. But this is … this is unexpected. And it’s huge.

"Is he a pilot?" Maverick asks after a long moment.

"Mav, he’s a great pilot," Goose says, and Maverick smiles. His soulmate is a pilot. They can fly together. He can’t think of anything better.

He thinks maybe Goose has something else to say about his soulmate, but in the end he just claps his hand on Maverick’s shoulder and asks how he feels about getting some chow.

***

Maverick knows the date on his wrist is still years away, and he knows there’s nothing on earth he can do to meet his soulmate any faster. But he can’t help himself from asking Goose questions about him.

“What’s he like? Iceman. Is he handsome? No, I shouldn’t care about that. But is he?”

Goose’s answer is always the same. “Mav, come on. You’re gonna meet the guy; you don’t want to build up some big picture of him in your head and have the real thing disappoint you, do you?”

Goose is right, Maverick supposes. But it’s easy for him to say; he met his soulmate in high school.

***

Maverick flies. He spends his time deployed, in the belly of aircraft carriers when he’s not in the air. Occasionally, on shore leave, he’ll take lovers, but his heart is never in it.

He waits.

Then Cougar scrubs out, turns in his wings. It’s June 12, 1986, and Stinger tells Maverick he’s going to TOPGUN.

It’s in Miramar, California.

***


Maverick has just been transported across the world, and he should be tired, but he’s not. He wakes before dawn, heart beating like he’s just run a mile.

It’s June 15, 1986. In a few hours, he’ll meet his soulmate.

He and Goose get to TOPGUN early, and take a seat up front. Their CO is due at 0900 hours, the same time Maverick is going to meet his soulmate. Men filter in gradually, pilots and their RIOs all in service khakis. Maverick tries to play it cool, but it’s a lost cause. He whips around to inspect every new face, and wonders if that’s him. Iceman Kazansky. His soulmate.

Before he can ask Goose to point him out, their SOs arrive and begin introducing them to the program. Maverick wants to be Top Gun so badly, but right now he can barely listen. He tries to scan the room as subtly as he can. There are two guys slouched together, whispering in each other’s ears; surely they’re already paired up. There’s a tall guy with an angular face, and beside him, the only person in the room who hasn’t looked at Maverick yet. He’s a big guy, tall and broad, blond with honey tan skin and pale eyes. He’s flipping a gold pen over his knuckles, and facing front with laser focus.

“Which one?” Maverick whispers to Goose.

“What’s that?” Commander Metcalf—Viper—asks, and Maverick blushes and faces front. Viper looks at him. “I’m sure some of you are wondering who the best is. The names of the best driver and his RIO will be inscribed on that plaque back there. You think your name’s going to go on that plaque, Lieutenant?”

Maverick straightens his spine. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s pretty arrogant, considering the company you’re in.” A pause. Then, a smile. “I like that in a pilot.”

Maverick relaxes. He feels eyes on the back of his neck, and when he turns, the blond man is looking at him, his pen still. The moment Maverick looks back, the man looks away.

Class is dismissed. Maverick grabs Goose. “Goose, introduce me.”

“Hey, Tom,” Goose says as they stand. The room is clearing out, but the tall, angular guy and the blond guy with the pen both stop when Goose calls out. Maverick’s gut is in knots; which one?

After an agonizing five seconds, the blond pilot steps forward. He smiles, shakes Goose’s hand.

“Mother Goose,” he says. “Good to see you.”

“Tom Kazansky, Pete Mitchell. Maverick, Iceman.”

Ice extends his hand, but Maverick just holds it instead of shaking it. Ice looks a little uncomfortable, and eventually Maverick clues in and lets him have his hand back.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you for sixteen years,” he says.

“Jesus,” the tall guy says. “You’ve got a fan, Ice.”

Ice looks back briefly, annoyed. “Yeah?” he says to Maverick. “Why’s that?”

Maverick blushes a little. “I—because you’re my soulmate.”

He takes off his watch and shows Ice his mark. Ice looks like he’s going to be sick.

“Mav,” Goose whispers, but it’s like Maverick’s alone in the room, alone in the world with Ice. Waiting.

“Show me yours,” Maverick says finally.

“I’m sorry,” Ice says haltingly. “I—I don’t have one.” He lowers his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and leaves the room, the tall guy in tow.

***

Maverick can’t concentrate on anything else the rest of the day. He’s never even heard of this happening before. He knows that some people are born without marks—and God, how awful, to live your life knowing that the universe has marked you unloveable—but he’s never heard of unreciprocated marks. In rare cases, soulbonds are just profound friendships, deep and intimate, life-changing but not romantic or sexual. That would have been one thing. But he’s never heard of an unanswered soulmark. Ever.

“I’m sorry,” Goose says. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You knew?”

“I’m sorry,” Goose says again.

Maverick forgives him. He wouldn’t have known how to break news like that, either. They go to the O Club, and Ice isn’t there. Maverick has one drink and then goes back to his base assignment, collapsing to the bed still in his uniform. He goes a whole five or six seconds before crying his guts out.

***

They have classes together, and hops, and Maverick tries to forget he ever even heard the name Iceman Kazansky, but it’s hard. Not only is his name permanently inscribed on Maverick’s wrist, but they’re in classes together for eight hours a day. He finds himself watching Ice a lot of the time; it doesn’t take him long to figure out what kind of person he is.

Ice is smart. He’s probably the smartest guy there, but he’s not showy about it. Most of the time, he looks bored, because even as the rest of the class is wrestling with the scenarios they’re meant to engage with, Ice is three steps ahead and already knows what to do. He’s quiet. He rarely speaks, and when he does it’s to deliver a precise and frankly impressive answer to a question, or it’s to the angular guy, Slider—Ice’s RIO—so quiet no one else can hear. Ice is a genius in a plane; he’s a stickler for the rules, and he’s not as creative as Maverick, but his technique is near perfect, and after the end of the first week, he’s in first place in the competition, with Maverick two points behind.

After hops, everyone usually catches a quick shower, but Maverick has never seen Ice in the locker room to do anything but change into his flight suit. It takes him a while to understand. He must have gotten tired of people gaping at his lack of a soulmark. Maverick is miserable knowing his soulmark isn’t reciprocated, but at least he has one. How awful, to be marked unlovable. For everyone to see.

Maverick doesn’t blame him at all.

***

Weeks pass. The competition stays pretty consistent: Ice and Slider are always in the lead, always a couple points ahead of Maverick and Goose. Maverick has been able to loosen up a little, and he’s spending time with the other Top Gun students, drinking at the O Club or playing some volleyball on the beach. After classes end, Ice disappears. Every day. It’s like he just stops existing when school’s not in session. Maverick is frustrated as hell about it, until one day, something changes.

It’s late afternoon, the last hop of the day, and, Maverick has been paired with Ice. They jockey for position a little, and Ice ends up ahead of Maverick, maneuvering to get target lock on Viper.

In a fit of pique, Maverick snaps, “Fire or clear, Ice,” over the comms, and to his surprise, Ice clears without any resistance, just a quiet curse that Maverick can tell is under his breath, just to himself. Maverick gets in position when Ice speaks again.

“Maverick, you’ve got Jester coming up on your six. I’m engaging him.”

Maverick can’t help but watch for a second. Ice is his wingman, and he takes his duty seriously; he swoops around and leads Jester off Maverick’s tail. It gives Maverick the freedom he needs to get target lock on Viper, and on the tarmac he’s flush with victory and grinning ear to ear. He catches up with Ice on the way back inside.

“Thanks for covering for me, Ice,” he says.

Maybe Maverick’s crazy, but it looks like Ice is blushing a little. Maybe he’s just flushed, from the flight. Ice’s eyes are on the floor.

“It’s my job, Mitchell,” he says quietly, and walks a little faster, putting some distance between them.

Maverick just stops, watches him go. Goose settles behind him.

“They lost,” he says.

“Huh?”

“Ice got Jester off your tail, but then Jester got ’em. He just lost two points to you.”

“Shit,” Maverick says, and runs down the hall after Ice. He barely spots him at the end of the corridor. “Ice! Hey, Ice!”

He half expects Ice to run, but instead he stops, turns around. He’s watching Maverick with some interest.

“School’s over for the day,” Maverick says. “Come to the O Club with us. I’ll buy you a drink. Slider too, if you want.”

Ice smiles a little, just the corner of his mouth turning up. “He’s pretty pissed,” he says. Then: “Okay, Mitchell. You can buy me a drink.”

***

Maverick catches Goose in the locker room, and informs him that Ice has agreed to have a drink with him, and Slider’s not coming.

“Message received,” Goose says, clapping a hand on Maverick’s shoulder. “You two have fun.”

They walk to the O Club together. Dusk is coming up on the horizon, and Ice practically glows in his service whites. His hands are in his pockets, and Maverick’s trying not to stare at him.

“Slider didn’t want to come?”

“I told you: He’s mad.”

“So why’d you do it?”

Ice frowns. “Because it was the right thing to do, Maverick. I would have done the same thing out there, you know.”

The O Club is packed. Ice manages to slip into a booth someone’s leaving while Maverick grabs their drinks from the bar.

“How long you been Navy?” he asks, sliding Ice’s Stoli up across the table.

“I joined after high school. Went to Annapolis. You know.”

“Did everything right?” Maverick asks. “I, uh, didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You haven’t heard?”

Ice shrugs. He looks at his glass. “I don’t put much stock in gossip.”

Maverick takes in a slow breath. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? Someone he could tell anything to.

“My dad died in Vietnam. He was a pilot—he was a great pilot. But everything that happened is all top secret, and the rumors … well, they aren’t exactly kind. It’s made everything harder.”

Ice looks at him long enough that Maverick wants to start talking again before Ice can ask one of the inevitable questions he’s heard a thousand times, but then he asks, softly, one question no one ever asks. “How old were you?”

“Six.”

Ice flinches. “I’m sorry. That must have been really hard.”

Maverick can’t speak around this feeling in his chest. Ice puts his hand on Maverick’s to comfort him, but after about three seconds he realizes what he’s done, and withdraws, pulling back like he’s touched something hot.

Maverick clears his throat. “Um, what about—what about you? Was your dad in the service?”

Ice smiles a little. “No. He was in college during the war.”

“Learning about what?”

“Philosophy.”

“What for?” Maverick asks, and then goes a little rigid, but Ice isn’t offended. He laughs.

“Becoming a professor and torturing his children,” he says. “Anytime we did anything wrong, we would have to go through an ethical inquiry stretching back to Socrates.”

“Geez, that sounds intense.”

Ice shrugs. “It was different, I guess. It taught me how to think critically when I was pretty young. Not a bad thing.”

“Lemme guess: You were one of the smart kids. Teacher’s pet.”

“Smart: I guess. Teacher’s pet: No. I got really bored at school. Restless.”

Maverick raises an eyebrow. “You were a troublemaker?”

“I didn’t say that. I followed the rules. I just … it was hard to stay engaged. I finished the work ahead of everyone, and then my mind just ran wild.”

“Daydreamer.”

“Yeah.”

“What did you dream about?”

Ice grins. “Flying.”

Maverick grins, too. “Me too.”

***

The moon is full and white and huge in the sky when they leave the O Club. They start the walk back to base, Ice walking a few steps behind Maverick, who dances along the street to make him laugh. They reach Maverick’s base assignment first, and Maverick lingers just outside for a while, because Ice is still there with him. Ice is still talking to him. He didn’t ask Ice out to romance him, but he likes him. He really likes him.

But he isn’t Ice’s soulmate.

“Have you ever wondered why?” Maverick asks abruptly.

Ice frowns. “Why what?”

“Why you … why you don’t have a soulmark. How that even works.”

Ice goes tense. “They have theories. Experts. Not about me in particular, but in general.”

“And?”

“And they’re all bullshit, okay?” Ice snaps. “It doesn’t matter. They don’t know what it’s like not to—Jesus, never mind.”

He starts to walk away. Maverick reaches out and catches him, wrapping his hand around Ice’s wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Maverick says. “I’m sorry I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut, but I’ve been waiting most of my life to meet you, and I—you don’t know how this feels, okay, to be given this wonderful gift, and then find out that it’s not for you.”

Ice is quiet for a moment, face drawn. Finally he says softly, “Let go of me, Maverick.”

Maverick lets go, and Ice walks away.

***

Maverick knows he should apologize. And after a couple of days, he tries, but Ice is dodging him again. Ice and Slider have retaken the lead in the Top Gun contest, and Maverick wonders how much his distraction is to blame for that. He’s in a fog.

There are only two weeks until graduation. It looks like Ice will be Top Gun, and then he and Maverick will part ways and never see each other again.

Maverick comes to this realization as he’s crossing the street, and stops dead. Then he’s shocked out of his skin when a huge, blaring noise explodes all around him, and something big slams into him. He looks up from the flat of his back in the middle of the road.

There’s a car in the middle of the street with a broken windshield. Crumpled on the hood is Iceman Kazansky. He’s bleeding from his head, and his eyes are closed. It only takes Maverick a moment to figure out what happened: He walked in front of the car, and Ice pushed him out of the way.

Maverick tries to go to Ice, but there are people in the way, people screaming for help, the driver of the car, who is probably just weeks past sixteen and sobbing. It’s not too long until an ambulance comes for Ice, and the police arrive to take statements. An officer corners Maverick, begins asking him questions, and Maverick watches Ice, on a stretcher and still unconscious, disappear into the ambulance.

***

When the police are done with Maverick, he all but runs to the base hospital. Walking back to the room where they’re keeping Ice, gravity increases on him. He feels the weight of the world more with every step. The nurse at reception gave him nothing about Ice’s condition; all he knows is that he’s still alive. He has no idea how hurt he is, or why he did what he did. Ice hates him. It doesn’t make any sense.

It’s the room at the end of a long hallway, and Maverick pauses in the doorway. Ice is laying in bed, hooked up to an IV and a couple of machines monitoring his vital signs. He’s stripped to the waist; his brow is bandaged, his ribs are taped, and his right arm is in a sling. He looks like he may be asleep, posture loose and eyes closed, but then Maverick walks in the room, and Ice looks up. He sees Maverick and he lets out a harsh breath.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice rumbly and softened by what Maverick is guessing is a lot of morphine.

“Yeah. Thanks to you, you crazy asshole.”

Ice blushes, honest to good blushes, and Maverick’s feeling of walking into The Twilight Zone continues until he’s a step away from the bed, and then he sees it. Right over Ice’s heart (statistically insignificant), in careful type:

Maverick Mitchell
Miramar, California
June 15th, 1986, 0900

Maverick loses his breath.

“You said you didn’t have one,” he manages finally. “A soulmark.”

Ice’s blush darkens, and his eyes shift down. “I lied.”

“Why? We could have—dammit, Ice, tell me why.”

Ice’s pale eyes lock on Maverick’s face. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“How old were you?” Ice asks instead. “When you got your mark?”

Frustration nips at him. “It was my tenth birthday. Just like everybody.”

Ice shakes his head. “No. Not like everybody.”

It takes Maverick a moment to understand. There are rare cases. Late bloomers… “How old were you? Twelve? Fifteen?”

Ice’s eyes on him are like weights. “Twenty-five,” he says softly.

Maverick feels like he’s been struck, one harsh blow to the solar plexus. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of thinking you’re a fluke, that no one will ever—shit.

“Man, I … I’m sorry, Ice. But I still don’t understand why—”

“I said you wouldn’t.”

Maverick grips the handrail of Ice’s bed. “So make me. I’m your goddamn soulmate; if anyone will understand, I will.”

Ice looks at him, mouth crimped in indecision. Finally, he nods, and he takes a slow breath in, slow breath out. “I thought I would never have that connection. And I made peace with it, as much as you can. It was useless to want something I’d never have, so I put my head down and worked on other things I wanted instead.”

“But then on your twenty-fifth birthday—”

“I learned about you. But I didn’t trust it. How could I? The universe told me I wasn’t worthy; how did I know this wasn’t another cruel joke? That you’d be legit, that you could love me, that … that the universe wouldn’t take you back.”

“So what changed?”

Ice smiles wryly. “You. I saw you in that classroom and I knew instantly who you were. You know those bullshit cartoons where someone gets shot by Cupid’s arrow? It was like that.” He says it again, the smile sliding off his face, his voice going so soft Maverick almost can't hear him. “It was like that.”

“So naturally you ran away from me.”

“It was the strongest feeling I’d ever had, and it scared the hell out of me, Maverick. And I tried to stay away from you, yeah, because I had a job to do, but—but the more I saw of you, the further I fell for you.” He toys with the IV line, eyes down, mouth twisting. “Now it’s … it’s fucking hopeless, is what it is.”

A surge of warmth starts behind Maverick’s breastbone and spreads throughout his entire body. He smiles so hard his face hurts; he can't stop.

“You love me,” he says. “You do.”

Ice looks sheepish. “Shut up.”

Maverick reaches out hesitantly. He is careful not to bump the bandage on Ice’s forehead as he gently runs his fingers through Ice’s hair. Ice’s eyes squeeze closed for a moment, reeling under the pleasure of the simple touch, and Maverick can see it written in his face: Ice is telling the truth. He is completely gone for him.

Maverick waits until Ice opens his eyes to speak. “So,” he says, “I’d really like the opportunity to fall in love with you, too. Do you think we could do that?”

“Yeah,” Ice says. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

Maverick waits for Ice to be discharged, and then he walks him to his base assignment. They take it slow, and they don’t talk much, but neither of them minds.

Maverick has Ice’s keys in the brown paper bag of his possessions the doctors and nurses took out of his pockets after the accident, and Ice’s right arm is out of commission for the moment, anyway, so Maverick unlocks the door and steps back to let Ice go in first. By the time Maverick’s in with the door closed behind them, Slider is there, and he’s hugging Ice one-armed, favoring his bad side.

“Jesus Christ, Tom,” he breathes.

Ice pulls back, looks him in the face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t just—”

“I know,” Slider says. “It’s okay.” His eyes flicker briefly to Maverick, then back to Ice, and he says, “I get it, man. You’re my brother, and I love you; I’m just glad you’re okay. Really, Tom. I swear.”

“Thanks. I’ll make it up to you, Ron.”

“No need.” Slider looks at Maverick. “You better take care of him.”

Maverick stretches up to his full height, spine straight. “I intend to.”

Slider gives him a long look, but then he nods. “All right, Mitchell. Be worth it.”

Maverick follows Ice to his room at the back of the house. They’re shut in alone and Ice is sitting on the bed when Maverick speaks.

“What was that all about?”

“Well, Maverick, it appears that a side effect of me saving your life is Ron and me forfeiting the Top Gun contest.”

Maverick frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You think they’re gonna let me fly like this? I’ve got a concussion, bruised ribs, severely sprained arm…”

“So? You’ll be good as new in …” Oh.

“A couple weeks? Yeah, I imagine they’ll clear me to fly about the time you and Goose are accepting the Top Gun trophy.”

“Shit. Ice, I—”

Ice smiles. Genuinely, happily. “It doesn’t matter, Maverick. Against your life, Mav? It doesn’t matter at all. Just make sure ’Wood and Wolf don’t take it, okay?”

“Sure, Ice. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will,” Ice says, and smiles. Even like this, bandaged and bruised, he’s the most beautiful person Maverick has ever seen up close.

“I want to do something, and I want you to let me,” Maverick says, “but I don’t want it to be because of the concussion or the drugs or anything.”

Ice looks at him oddly, but then he says, “I’m lucid, Maverick.”

“Good,” Maverick says, and kisses him.

It’s hesitant at first, for both of them. Maverick moves slowly, keeps his mouth closed, and Ice presses back gently but doesn’t open his mouth, either. He puts his free hand on Maverick’s shoulder, and Maverick can feel it shaking. Then they both relax, realizing, maybe, that this isn’t going anywhere—their soulmate is there and real and not going anywhere—and the kiss deepens, becomes more passionate, insistent. They keep it slow, though, taking their time, learning how the other tastes, learning how they like to be kissed. Maverick gently lowers Ice to the bed, and continues kissing him, slow and deep and well. Ice sighs happily, and his free hand is in Maverick’s hair, keeping him there.

It goes on for a long time, but then Ice says, “Wait,” and Maverick stops.

“I really, really like this,” Ice says. “But I’m not … I’m not feeling my best. My head is … I’m lucid, Maverick, but it hurts and things are kind of swimming. I think I need sleep. Will you … will you wait? Please?”

Maverick grins. “Ice, I waited sixteen years for you. I don’t mind waiting a few hours while you get some rest.”

Ice blushes, and smiles. Maverick takes his shoes off for him, and his belt, and helps him get comfortable against the pillows. He pulls up the quilt folded at the bottom of the bed, pulls it over them both. He roosts against Ice, who sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, Maverick.”

“Goodnight, Ice.”

They fall asleep like that, tucked together.

***

Maverick helps Ice as much as he can without skipping classes. He was going to call the whole thing off and just stop going, but then he remembered the promise he made to Ice, to take the trophy.

He does. In two week’s time, Ice has just been cleared to fly, and Maverick stands in front of their Top Gun class in his dress whites and accepts the trophy with his and Goose’s names carved into it. He hugs Goose around the neck, and they pose for a few pictures and accept some congratulations, and then he hands the plaque to Goose and walks through the crowd to where Ice is standing. He’s smiling and gorgeous in his dress whites, and he leans in and kisses Maverick the second he’s close enough to kiss.

“Congratulations,” he says. “I’m proud of you, Top Gun.”

Maverick blushes. Ice kisses him again, slower this time. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Yeah?”

“I, um, I requested a transfer. To your boat. It’s a soulmate claim, so they expedited it. We can bunk together, fly together …”

It’s a million times better than winning the Top Gun trophy. Maverick grabs him and hugs him, laughing. “Yes. Yes, Ice, yes.”

“Where you go, I’ll follow.” His eyes sparkle. “Soulmate.”

Maverick grins, and he takes his soulmate in his arms, and he kisses him again. He doesn’t have to wait anymore. He has everything he wants, here, right here, and it’s better than he ever imagined.