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The setting sun was the only thing that gave light to the room. He sat there, feet propped up on the windowsill, in the most comfortable armchair in the house, a book laying open on his lap.
He should have been reading it; he had promised Slider that it was the only thing he would do that evening. But his eyes were closed and he was lost in his head, the one thing he had promised Slider he would not do.
Slider had tried to drag him out to the O Club with Hollywood, Wolfman, Chipper, and Sundown, but Ice had wanted to stay home. Slider had huffed and puffed, but Ice was more of a big bad wolf than his RIO and pushed his claws against the plan. Ice hadn’t told Slider to go fuck himself because he knew his RIO was grieving as well. Slider had also lost his friend, the one whom he had leaned on when Ice had been unreasonable in Annapolis.
But where Thomas Kazansky grieved through brooding and self-blame, Ron Kerner’s grief manifested in drinking, growling, and burying himself in women. And Ice had told Slider to go do just that, without him. Slider had thrown his hands in the air and declared defeat.
Ron had growled at Ice that yes, he was going to do just that and find a girl for the night, maybe for life and that Ice could stay and read his goddamn book, but Ice had to promise Slider that he would not let his dark mood drag him into the black holes in his head. Ice had made him the promise.
But Ice had broken it five minutes after Slider had left, and it was no surprise after the day he had had. He had done the decent thing; what no one, not the brass, not the flyboys, had done. Not one of them had ever said they were sorry to Maverick, no one had ever given him their condolences.
Ice may have lost his friend, but Maverick had lost his brother. Maybe the Navy didn’t know that since the time Nick was sixteen and Pete was fifteen, they had been foster-brothers; the Bradshaws had taken Mitchell in as a foster-kid. Ice himself had found it out by coincidence.
That they had become a pilot and RIO pair was a miracle in itself. And no one had thought to say that they were sorry that a pilot lost his RIO.
They just had forced Maverick back into the jet hoping to give him back his wings, not understanding that didn’t help. Maverick needed someone that understood his grief, his fear that it would happen again, fear he could endanger his and his RIO’s life again.
Ice tried to give Maverick that, fuck he had been the one who had caused the fear in the other aviator. Ice was the one who was guilty of the death of Goose. It had been his jet wash that had taken Goose's life and thrown Maverick into turmoil.
Even though the investigation had proven that it had been an accident, the guilt ate away at Ice’s heart. Because of him, a sweet boy lost his father, and because of him, a wife lost her husband. Because of him, a good man lost his brother and a best friend, and because of that the same good man who was a superior aviator doubted his abilities to fly a jet and keep his RIO safe.
Ice growled loudly and with force threw the book into a corner. Ice cold, no mistake, yeah right, he had made a mistake. He had taken too long to take the shot and had not calculated his next maneuver and he had taken the life of a man who should have lived a long life, seen his boy grow up and given him grandchildren. A man who should have been making all their lives much more enjoyable, to be there to give support and mother them all. And Ice had been the one who in his arrogance had taken him away.
Ice raised his eyes to the ceiling, like hoped for answers from there. God be damned, if his life was a storybook now would have been a perfect time for some demon to swoop into the room and offer a deal to him for his soul and life for Goose. But his life was not a storybook, he could not save his friend, and his only hope was somehow to save his friend's brother. But how? That was a question Ice couldn’t answer.
Suddenly from the corner of his eye, he saw something outside, someone was on the driveway and approaching the house. The setting sun blinded Ice, he couldn’t tell who it was, it couldn’t be Slider, he had left half an hour ago and the man was shorter. Ice knew only one who was this short: Maverick.
The younger aviator stopped before the porch and looked at it in wonder like he did not understand how he had gotten there. His eyes were wide, and doubt was on his face. Ice was thankful that the shadows fell exactly right, and the other man could not see him. Maverick stood there for a little while longer then he stepped onto the porch. He looked at the door and then stepped back, but he did not leave. Instead, he sat on the steps Ice could only see part of Maverick’s face, but what he saw was heartbreaking grief.
Ice sat there watching and waiting. Maverick did not move from his place on the steps, at that point he wished that he could read Mitchell’s mind. He could interpret some of the man’s thoughts but only some.
He didn’t know how long they sat there like that, but at one point he couldn’t take it anymore. Ice rose and went to open the door. “Are you going to sit there all evening or are you coming in?”
Maverick's body went rigid; it seemed that he had not expected for somebody to be at home or to see him sitting in there. He didn't say anything, nor did he turn. Ice could see how flight or fight instinct ran through the younger man's head, but Maverick did neither.
Ice waited for a moment and then made a decision. He left the door open and went to the kitchen. He left the choice up to Mitchell, to either come inside or go away. Everyone else had taken the choice away; they had pushed him back into flying when he was clearly not ready, they had pushed him to get over Goose’s death, and pushed him to do other things Ice was not certain that he understood.
Now, he tried to give the other man some of his freedom back, even if it was on a small scale. Ice ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. He frowned; what the hell had he come into the kitchen for? Had it been the instinct from his childhood, where the heart of the home was the kitchen?
If it was, then he should do as his babushka had always done. He took the kettle and placed it on the stove. Nothing else heals wounds as well as time, his grandma had always said, and then corrected herself that time did not heal all wounds, but tea, especially raspberry tea soothed the soul. And there was another remedy that Jolanta Kazansky swore by, and Ice opened the top cupboard to get it. Żołądkowa Gorzka Polish liquor was what babushka Jolanta had always had in the cupboard; she usually added it to the tea and always swore by it.
Ice tried to bring it with him everywhere he went. He had even gone so far that he had secretly stashed a small bottle in his duffel bag when he went out to the gulf.
It was still a mystery to him how his babushka could have obtained it; with the cold war and the iron curtain, it was difficult to get things from Poland. But there were certain things Ice had decided that he did not need to wonder over and let Jolanta have her secrets.
As a second thought, he turned the oven on and took the leftover lasagna from the fridge. The last time he had eaten had been that morning, and he didn’t know the last time Maverick had eaten. If Maverick decided not to come in, then Ice would have his own healing of the soul, all alone.
Ice did not let the water start boiling; he took the kettle from the stove at the precise moment it was about to and placed the lasagna in the oven. When he started pouring the water into a teapot, he heard the front door closing. He didn’t have the guts to turn around and see if Mitchell had entered or closed the door in decency. He filled the pot, added the tea, and then he turned around.
Maverick stood by a chair on the kitchen island. He had placed his constantly present jacket onto the back of the chair and was looking at him curiously. Ice let his eyes wander over the other man; sleeplessness, grief, emptiness, and sorrow were written on Mitchell’s face. Maverick's eyes were red from crying, the tear tracks on his cheeks told a story of despair, and the dark circles under his eyes told a story of sleepless nights.
“Sit.” Ice tried not to sound like he was giving an order, but he felt he failed at it. But Mitchell listened to him. “When was the last time you ate?”
Maverick frowned. “I don’t remember, yesterday morning?” It seemed he was surprised that his answer had come out as a question.
“If you have to guess, then it was a long time ago.” Ice shook his head and his eyes fell onto the bottle he had placed on the island. “We must wait for this.” He took it and placed it on the counter.
“Hey!” Maverick protested when he saw what Ice took away, but the protest came out half-hearted. The shorter man tried to put on a show to look like everything was alright with him.
“It’s not for forgetting, it’s a remedy to help you sleep better. I’m not going to let you drink yourself stupid.” Ice could play along, as long as Maverick finally would crack.
“I thought that was the purpose,” Maverick huffed.
“Purpose of what?” Ice wanted Maverick to say why he was there in his kitchen specifically, and not in, he didn’t know, maybe Charlie’s kitchen. He took the cup from the shelf and poured Maverick one.
Maverick closed his mouth and seemed to ponder over it. Ice saw that he had the answer, but it seemed he did not want to acknowledge it or share. “Where is Slider?” Mitchell asked instead.
“He went to the O Club, to find a girl for a night or for life.” Ice shrugged and checked the oven. A few more minutes, he decided.
“Why are you not there doing the same?” A frown was on Maverick's face like he was trying to figure Ice out.
“I wasn’t in the mood.” Well, he was never going to be in the mood to find a girl for a night or for life, but he wasn’t going to admit that to the man who had held a place in his heart from the moment Ice had met him seven years ago.
He turned back to the oven, took a quick breath, and pushed the feeling down again; he didn’t know if he was ever going to admit it to Mitchell.
He felt Maverick’s inquiring gaze on his back like he had figured Ice out, but no, Ice wouldn’t let him see what he thought and instead conjured a neutral look. He took the lasagna out of the oven, plated it, and set the plates on the island. “Eat.”
Maverick looked at him once more, but as he didn’t know Ice very well, he couldn’t read anything from the other man’s face. So, he turned to his plate.
Ice tried not to let his relief show. He held back his chuckle when Maverick took the first bite and groaned in enjoinment. “This is some good lasagna.”
“You can give your compliments to Slider when you see him next.”
“Slider did this?” Maverick’s eyes had gone wide.
“Yes, he has always said that if becoming an aviator wasn’t his biggest dream, he would have gone and become a chef,” Ice said, taking a bite himself.
Maverick nodded at that. They ate their meal in silence.
When they were finished and Ice had cleaned up the island, he poured Mitchell and himself a new cup of tea and added the liquor.
He waited. Maverick was the one who came to him, and Ice knew the value of silence; if Maverick wanted to talk, then he needed to start it. Ice didn’t have anything against sitting there and drinking in silence with the other man.
They sat there for some time, and then Maverick finally spoke. “Goose said you were the one who gave him his callsign.”
Ice wanted to raise his eyebrow, but stopped himself. Fuck it, Maverick had found a perfect way to talk about Goose and not touch his grief.
“Yes, I did, what did he tell you about it?”
“That he was attacked by geese.” Maverick’s voice betrayed that he had not believed his RIO.
Ice chuckled. “We can say that was a part of where his name came from, but the real story is much simpler.” He emptied his cup and poured himself a new tea and liquor mixture. He raised his brow in question. Mav emptied his cup and shot it quickly at Ice like he was afraid that if he didn’t, Ice would revoke the offer.
Ice filled his cup and asked, “Did Goose tell you that at the beginning of the first year, we were not friends?”
“Yes, he said something about a girl in a bar.” Mav frowned as he tried to remember, but for some reason the story didn’t come to him; Ice could read it all from his face. He had once read somewhere that things like that could happen with grief, forgetting memories and stories of what one had shared with the one who was gone.
Ice took a sip from his teacup to hide that he’d just caught something Mav wanted to conceal from the world.
“Yeah, there was a girl in a bar,” Ice confirmed. “In the beginning, I didn’t go to the academy to make friends. I went there to be the best of the best, fly high and far, make it to the top. I thought I didn’t need friends for that.” Ice took another sip from the cup. Goddamnit, he was bearing his soul, but he had already started. “Studying was the most important thing for me. I did not care about my classmates; my grades were more important. Slider was just a roommate I tolerated – fuck, he knows it – for the first two months.
He wouldn’t stop pestering me, and one Friday night I finally joined him when he went to a bar. There were others from our class there; I knew their names and what they were capable of, but I did not know them.” Ice closed his mouth, goddamn it, he had talked about himself too much, but he couldn’t change that anymore. He saw that Pete had registered his every word and saved it. He drank his tea and continued. “In the bar was a beautiful and smart girl, and she was surrounded by men. There were only three that were not interested in her: Slider who had a steady girlfriend at the time; Goose, who just had met Carol a few weeks ago; and me, who was not interested in any kind of relationship at that moment.
Then I saw how someone put something in her drink. I was next to her in a flash, and I wasn’t the only one. Goose and Slider were beside me. That man never dared to come to that bar again.
But Slider, Goose, and I became friends. I never meant to make friends in the academy but somehow there they were. We studied together, ate together, and looked out for each other. At the end of the first year, my mother died. I was in a hole, so deep that I couldn’t dig myself out. It was right at the time of the exams and if Slider and Goose weren’t there, I wouldn’t have passed them. One morning in the cafeteria, Goose was mothering me again and I snapped: “Stop bothering me Mother Goose!” Then I remembered where we were, a room full of other cadets and professors. The name stuck, and the fact that he was attacked by a flock of geese a few days later didn’t help the matter.”
When he finished, he looked up from the table and saw the face of the other aviator; he had said a few things that he hadn’t meant Maverick to know, but what was done was done.
But, not for the first time, Maverick proved that he was a lot smarter than he played. He didn’t mention anything about what he had learned about Ice and spoke, “Well, at least the story about the geese was true.”
“Yeah, it was.” Ice filled both of their cups again, adding alcohol so that they could taste it and just enough that they would get a little tipsy. He placed the kettle on the stove again and prepared the teapot. All that time Maverick did not say anything. When Ice turned back to him, the other man wiped his eyes and tried to compose himself again.
Ice wanted to go and hug him, but it was not his place, not at that moment.
“Do you remember when Goose introduced us?”
That was the one question Ice had not expected. “In the cafe, I wanted to find a quiet place and there you were. You had just learned that you were not accepted into the academy and had come to find your brother.”
“After the end of that evening, you had put two and two together and knew why I wasn’t accepted. You didn’t make a face at that.”
“Well, no one should be judged by their father.” Ice said, ‘I should know that well’, he added to himself.
Ice kept a frown from his face; he didn’t know where Maverick was going with this.
“I went to see Viper today, and he told me about my father. They had flown together. I know the reason why he told me that, but it felt like the only reason he told me was so I wouldn’t quit and to get me back into the jet.”
Ice frowned, he didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know Viper all that well, but Ice knew whatever he said would affect Maverick’s relationship with Viper, especially after the words the other man had said. “I don’t know Viper personally, but I know he is an exceptional commanding officer and aviator. I don’t believe that he would ever use your father's memory just to influence you to stay at Top Gun and get you back into your jet.”
Ice met Maverick’s eyes over the island. It seemed that Maverick had not expected that response from Ice and surprise shone in his eyes. “I thought about that too.” Maverick folded has fingers together, but that did not stop their fidgeting. Ice had learned from their encounters both before and during Top Gun that Maverick could not stay still, though he could control it and conceal it when it was necessary.
But now Maverick could not conceal it or control it. Ice felt a hand clenching his heart; Maverick was a strong man, and the grief and stress had taken that control away. Ice understood that grief. Goose had not meant as much to Ice as he had to Maverick, but he could imagine it was as bad as his grief had been after he lost his mother.
Ice felt how his own hands started to shake. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He rose quickly and took the kettle from the stove, pouring the water into the teapot. If Maverick had been looking at Ice, he would have seen the shake of Ice’s hands. But Maverick had not seen it, he had been staring at one point on the table.
Mitchell lifted his eyes when Ice placed the pot on the table. “I tried to remember Viper from when I was younger, as he said he had been friends with my father. I was seven when my father died, and he must have visited our home, but I can’t remember him.” Maverick drained his cup. Ice made him another mixture and waited.
“I hoped that the ride back here would clear my mind, but it was full of Goose, my father, and Viper. It was all muddled, and when I reached my house it was worse than before, so I decided to take a walk, hoping that it would clear the fog from my mind. The next thing I knew, I was in front of your house with Goose’s voice back in my head telling me, ‘Go to Ice and Slider, they will understand.’ There I was standing on your driveway, but when I went to knock, something stopped me. I sat on your steps with Goose yelling in my head to knock. Then you opened the door. I wanted to run, but Goose did not shut up, he demanded that I needed to come and talk to you.” Maverick clenched his eyes and mouth shut.
Ice wanted to hold him, but instead he said, “Goose was always the smartest of us all.”
He saw how tears formed in the corners of Maverick’s eyes. “He was, he was the best of us. He had plans, he wanted to rise high, and become at least Vice Admiral. He wanted to see Bradley grow up, see him find his path in life.” The tears were rolling down his cheeks now, but Maverick did not wipe them away, he let them roll freely. “Even if he wished him to be an aviator, Goose would have been happy whatever Bradley chose. He wanted to take Carol traveling, to treat her as the queen she is. He wanted to do so much, to be more than any of us could imagine. And I took it all away. I killed my brother and best friend, I took him away from his family, his wife, and his son.” Maverick was crying so hard that his last words were almost lost to Ice.
Ice moved to the other side of the island and engulfed Maverick in his arms. “You did not kill him, you did everything that you could to save the jet, to save yourself and Goose. It was an accident.” Saying those words loudly pushed his world back into place, it was an accident. “I blamed myself,” Ice whispered in Maverick's hair. “It was my jet wash you flew through, it was because of me your jet went into a flat spin.”
“It was not your fault,” Maverick hiccuped against his shoulder.
“It wasn’t your fault either, it was a freak accident. We lost our friend, the best of us, but something good came out of it as well. Now all the Navy knows that the canopies can be defective. Now all the pilots and RIOs know to watch for the canopy when they must eject.” Ice tried to believe those words himself, but they sounded hollow. So, he closed his mouth and held Maverick, letting his hands run over the other man’s back and shoulders.
“My brother and best friend died,” the tears had dried out, but Maverick had not let go of Ice. “What will I do now that I have no one?”
Ice pushed away a little bit. “Maverick, look at me!” When Maverick raised his eyes, he continued, “You have Carol, Bradley, our class, you have me.” Ice placed his finger under Maverick’s chin and lifted his head, so they looked eye to eye. “I know I’m not Goose, I will never be Goose. But I am your friend, and I will be here for you forever. You can think of me as your brother.” Ice would have never thought words like that would hurt, but they did because he was saying them to a man he was falling for.
“What if I wanted you to be more than my friend?” Came to a whisper so quiet that Ice thought he had not heard right. It couldn’t be that Maverick has just said those words.
“What?” Was the only thing Ice could get out of his mouth, and as soon as the word left his mouth, Ice knew it had been the wrong one.
Fear appeared on Maverick’s face. “I’m sorry,” Maverick stuttered, “I didn't mean it. I don’t know what I’m saying.” He was backing away from Ice.
“Mav,” was the first time when Ice had used the nickname and that got Maverick’s attention. Ice placed his hands on Maverick's shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he stepped closer, “I wouldn’t have anything against it if we were more.” Ice kissed Maverick’s forehead. “But I am not going to use your vulnerability.” Maverick started to open his mouth, but Ice placed his finger on the other man’s lips. “Please listen. You are grieving, you have just lost the one person who was closest to you. You’re hurting and I don’t want it to feel like I’m using it to get you. In a few years you will start to resent me for it, and I don’t want that.”
“I would never resent you for it,” Maverick said.
“I know you believe that, but we never know. I promise you that we are going to come back to this conversation when your world is back on its axis.” Ice kissed his forehead again. “You only have to say the word. Alright?”
Maverick looked at him, and Ice held his breath, waiting, wishing, hoping.
“Alright,” Maverick whispered and placed his head on Ice’s shoulder.
“Drink your tea,” Ice whispered into the shorter man’s hair. He got only a nod in answer, and then Maverick turned from him and downed his tea in one gulp.
Ice rolled his eyes. Even in pain and grief Maverick couldn’t stop his antics.
“If you listened to orders that well at work, then the brass would tolerate you more.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” The smile Maverick conjured on his face did not reach his eyes.
Ice shook his head, “Not everything has to be fun.”
Maverick opened his mouth to answer, but a yawn cut off whatever he was going to say.
“It seems that the tea and alcohol have done their jobs,” Ice smirked. “You will sleep in my bed tonight because the sofa would be a pain in your neck, back, and ass. I will take Slider’s, as it will be much easier for me to explain why I’m sleeping there than you if Ron should come home tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time I have shared a bed with a drunk Slider.” Ice did not add, ‘and sadly not the last time.’
When Ice turned to find the things Maverick needed to go to bed, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned back to the brunette.
“I won’t throw you out of your bed,” Mitchell whispered.
Ice sighed. “Believe me, dealing with a drunk Slider and sleeping beside him is as much a pain in the neck as this sofa.”
Maverick swallowed and there was hesitation on his face, but he got the next words out. “I meant that you could share with me.” When Ice opened his mouth to protest, Maverick continued. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Ice took a quick breath at those words; fuck, he understood. “Alright.” He turned again and this time Maverick followed him. Ice found a spare toothbrush and dug out a t-shirt and shorts for the other man.
“I will go and clean the kitchen.” Ice smiled reassuringly and left Maverick to prepare for bed.
When Ice reached the kitchen, he pressed his eyes closed and his nails into his palms. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Ice? You know it will end badly.” He whispered.
And Goose’s voice in the back of his mind answered. “Because you are a good friend. Thank you for taking care of him now that I can’t.”
For the first time since Goose died, Ice let himself cry properly. He cried for Goose, Maverick, and himself. He knew what would come, would come, and if he was going to get hurt, at least he had done something good.
When he returned to the bedroom, Maverick was in bed but not sleeping, his eyes following every move of Ice when the older one was preparing for bed.
Ice took a calming breath before he climbed under the blanket, then saw that he had handed Maverick his USNA shirt and quickly needed to take another. Fuck, he should have looked at which one he grabbed; Maverick in that shirt took all thoughts away from Ice and he needed to fight to get control over himself again.
Maverick raised a questioning eyebrow when he saw Ice’s stare, but Ice only shook his head and laid down.
Maverick moved closer. “May I?” The question was a hesitant one.
“Yes, of course,” Ice answered.
Maverick placed his head on Ice’s chest and the blond man knew he was fucked. Even if he previously had hope that it all would pass and he could live without the smaller man, now he knew it would never happen.
When Maverick’s breathing evened out and he fell asleep, Ice ran his hand through the brunette’s hair and tried to stop himself from thinking of the future, that this might not end well. Maverick was grieving and in pain. When Mitchell got his bearings back, he would understand what a mistake he was making and go back to Charlie or some other blond girl and leave Ice. It would be safer for both of them; if you were queer in the Navy, you were done, dishonorable discharge. They would both lose everything they had ever worked for, their wings, their reputation. It would be so much safer if it was a passing whim on Maverick’s part. Fuck, there were reasons why Ice had promised himself that he would never fall in love, and now here he was with a man who could break his heart in his arms.
Ice closed his eyes; that was going to be a concern for the future. He would survive. He was the Iceman, Thomas Kazansky, and if the world wanted to break him, it could try. That was the last thought he had before he drifted to sleep, Maverick in his arms.
That was how Slider found them in the faint light of dawn. He made a promise to himself to kill Maverick if he hurt Ice, and if he stayed, to protect both men from themselves and the world.