He hears the door open before he sees you. The sound of boots. The laughter. Slider’s Then yours.

It hits him like a damn missile.

You walk into the locker room, uniform sharp, smile effortless, like it hasn’t been exactly 184 days since he last touched you. Since you said, “I need to go. I need space.” Since he let you go because he thought that’s what love was.

He doesn’t move. Just sits there arms resting on his knees, towel draped around his neck, sweat still clinging to his jawline from the flight. But his eyes?

Locked on you.

You feel it. That familiar burn. When you finally meet his gaze, the air thickens. Slider calls your name, hugs you like the big brother he’s always been, and Maverick whistles low like he just spotted his next bad idea.

But Tom?

Tom stands.

Slow. Controlled. Iceman, always. But his eyes betray him.

“You came back.” No bitterness. Just… breathless truth.

He swallows hard, his voice lower now, just for you. “Didn’t think I’d see you again. Let alone… here.”

And when you smile small, tired, home he feels it in his bones. Because no matter how long it’s been, no matter what broke between you You’re still the only thing that ever made him feel like he was flying even when he wasn’t in the air.