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Feeling the quiet rhythm of Ice’s breathing, slow in his sleep, is more calming than Maverick had thought it would be.
It’s the first time since they started… this that he’s stayed long enough to experience it.
And experience is the word, it’s not just hearing it or seeing it, it’s feeling it. Feeling the muscles in Ice’s chest work, as they go up and down, up and down, Maverick can feel Ice’s breath in his hair, on his bare skin.
His ear pressed to the side of Ice’s chest means he can hear– feel his heartbeat.
And… wow.
It’s striking, it’s overwhelming and it’s peaceful, all at once.
Striking because he most definitely should not be there, pressed against Iceman in the most intimate of positions, aside from sex and post-adrenaline hugs, which was more than Maverick thought the two of them would ever be, sleeping together. Together-together, no euphemism about it, was just so painfully intimate.
Was it weird? It’s probably weird for him to just stay like that, holding as still as possible and hoping his thoughts didn’t stray too far, lest he move by accident and wake Iceman.
It was fine. It was fine.
Ice had offered to let him stay before, always bringing it up at the end of their nights together, when Maverick was in a rush to get his clothes on, trying to get out of there before he could say something damning. Really, anything he said around Iceman, and that varied from “Let’s fuck!” to “I’m in love with my best friend.”
While the first option had worked out as far as he was concerned, case in point: Their current, vague, casual relationship. But the second one, well.
He’d never even called Ice his best friend, it felt a little odd, especially since it had been labelled as such in his brain. Ice was a rival, someone to beat. And Goose… Well, Goose was his best friend.
But that had been before. Before everything. And Goose was gone, and Carole was busy with Bradley and Bradley was off at school, and Charlie had broken up with Maverick–
So really, that left Ice. Ice who had stuck by him, Ice who cared, who listened when he talked and who had his back in the air and on the ground, at home and in the classroom. Aside from the process of elimination, there was no one else in Maverick’s life he felt deserved the title. Each relationship he had was held together by superglue and string. He wasn’t good at relationships.
He’d lost most of the people he cared about, for one reason or another.
Ice couldn’t be another one.
So if what Ice wanted was their current, vague, casual relationship, then so be it. That’s what Maverick wanted too.
It was hard to hope for more, especially when he didn’t really know what would happen next, in regards to anything.
His plans were only ever a few days ahead, hours usually. When he went to bed he hoped to wake up, and when he went to work he hoped to get home. That was all. It was painfully apparent that life didn’t care.
Things happened quickly, you had to watch out for them. The less you planned, the harder it was to get disappointed when it didn’t work out.
So he wouldn’t plan, and he wouldn’t hope for more than this was. Because what he had was what he wanted, when he was alone, he hoped to see Iceman. That was as far as he would let himself get.
But Ice made plans, he planned like a madman. He always seemed to know what he wanted and what he didn’t want, always seemed to be one step ahead of Maverick.
If Ice was a planner, and Ice hadn’t planned anything between the two of them, no future aside from the next night they spent together, then that was that. And Maverick was happy.
He was.
Or rather, maybe content was a better word. He liked the way it was going, it was calm, it wasn’t too much, and it didn’t give him too many opportunities to royally fuck it up.
He wasn’t going to tell Ice that he cared for him, wasn’t going to push this to be anything more, he wasn’t going to hope it could be.
His mind got away from him too often, he couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk the last person he had close enough to hold–
It hurt. It did, seeing the way Iceman smiled at him, looked at him, hear the soft noises he made when it was just the two of them, and to feel his skin, his scars, his heartbeat.
But Ice’s skin was always soft, his scars were always there and his heart was always beating. Maverick didn’t need those constant reminders, did he? He did have enough object permanence that he could rationalise that away from Ice’s embrace.
Yet having them, knowing that, with the absolute certainty that falling asleep next to him gave was so much better than keeping his distance.
So maybe that was one thing to hope for, that Ice wouldn’t mind him staying over on nights like this one, where he was tired, lonely and a little bit unrealistic, thinking staying the night couldn’t hurt.
But it wouldn’t, staying the night was proving to be more or less ideal. It kept him calm, it kept him sure. Ice was there, Ice was always there, but here he was immovable, he was living and he was safe, and Maverick knew it.
Maverick would stay over more, he reasoned. He’d stay over more, and he’d spend more time with Ice, but not too much time because they weren’t a Thing, just a thing.
They weren’t enough to be a unit, always together, lost without each other.
It was less-so that Maverick felt lost without him, more like he’d found something he hadn’t known he was missing. That’s what being around Ice felt like.
So they’d spend time together, some but not too much. And Maverick would spend the night, fall asleep next to him, more often than not.
That was the plan. He was daring to plan.
There was the ‘overwhelming’ he felt with Ice. It was crazy, how much he felt, how much he needed to take a break and think “Oh, this is real.”
Ice made him plan. He made him hope. And it wasn’t like Ice was telling him he had to plan, or he had to hope. No, Ice was just doing his thing and Maverick was watching, completely enraptured.
Maybe it was for the better. After all, he’d hoped when he’d spent time with Goose, and Carole and Bradley. With Charlie, his parents, past girlfriends.
But never a fling. Yet he had known this thing with Ice wasn’t just that. Passing touches to blow off steam. They didn’t talk about it, and Maverick wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to tell Iceman if the subject ever came up, but he cared more than that.
They’d been friends for nearly a year and a half, which was commendable on its own. Friends! With Maverick! Iceman, for all his neuroticism, had stuck around that long.
It was impressive, Mav had to hand it to him.
And it was terrible how he couldn’t help but hope for years to come, like they could just… work.
But things didn’t last, he knew that. He’d known it since he was a kid, that he couldn’t have things as long as he wanted, he couldn’t keep people. If they left his life, if they moved on– in whichever way, that wasn’t up to Maverick. And he had to stop pretending it was, stop thinking he could change the way things worked out.
Maybe.
A thought struck him as Ice shifted.
Maybe he was going about it the wrong way.
He wouldn’t get to keep this. Not objectively, either he would stay or he wouldn’t. That wasn’t up to Maverick. Never had been.
Maverick couldn’t help the way his thoughts drifted back to Goose. They’d had years together. Years. That hadn’t been enough for Maverick, never had been.
He’d dreamt and he’d hoped and he’d lost. He’d lost Goose and he’d lost out on the things they’d never gotten to do. The places they’d wanted to visit, the things that Goose had wished for, like seeing Bradley grow up.
Maverick had lost out on that too, he’d lost all of it. And as much as he was told it wasn’t his fault–
It wasn’t the point. The point was that Maverick was someone who loved and lost. Always had. He knew that.
But maybe.
Maybe, if he was going to love and lose anyway, he should love the way he wanted. Or try to.
No contentment, no compromises, taking the chance.
Mav was good at risks, good at taking his own life into his hands and leaping headfirst into the deep end.
He wasn’t known for being worried about it.
But he was, always had been. He has this with Ice and barely anything with anyone else.
“Ice,” He found himself saying, breaking the gentle silence of their room. Ice’s room.
And fuck.
The moment Iceman responded with a bleary, “Mav?” His voice rough with sleep, Maverick knew he should have let the moment stay, let the night pass, let their thing go on being whatever it was and never press it–
“Sorry.” Maverick amended, “Go back to sleep.”
Ice blinked blearily, sitting up, turning on the bedside lamp. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. False alarm.”
Because it was nothing. Complete and utter nothing, and if Maverick wasn’t careful, their cobbled-together relationship would quickly become the same. Nothing.
“Can’t sleep?” Ice asked.
“No.” Maverick said. That was probably the problem. A quick glance at the clock told him it was well into the wee hours.
Iceman looked a little awkward, waking up, finding his… friend acting odd, when clearly the proper response to not being able to sleep would have been to fucking leave.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His tone was hesitant, Maverick appreciated his effort.
“Really, it’s fine. I woke you up, I’m sorry. Just go back to sleep.”
“Now I have to figure it out. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing is normally something.”
Oh, fuck off. Was that really what they were doing?
“This time the something is nothing. Completely.” Mav smiled quickly. “Go to sleep, I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”
Ice’s brow furrowed, his eyes, as gorgeous as they were, filled with a condescending sort of concern.
“Maverick, really. It’s okay.” He extended a hand, brushing his thumb against Maverick’s cheek.
He took a moment, feeling Ice.
“What do you want?” Maverick asked finally.
Ice looked even more confused, “What–”
“No, wait. What do you want, from this, from me? Right now?”
“I just… I want to–” Iceman broke off, scoffing. “What is this, what are you asking right now?”
“I mean,” Maverick sighed. “You like to know what’s going to happen. What have you put in your plan for us?”
Iceman blinked. “I want to be this. With you.”
“But what is it? Are we friends? Because I want to be your friend, Ice. I really do. But I like knowing the basics. So, basically, are we friends?”
A faint blush coated Iceman’s cheeks.
“I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“Ask what?”
“If, maybe, sometime,” Ice started, shrugging. “If you’d consider more than this.”
“More?”
Iceman looked away. “I like what we’ve been doing but, I just… I like you. A lot. And I’m free on Thursday after work if you are.”
“Thursday?”
“There’s a Thai place. Thought it looked nice.”
“Were you already thinking about this?” A small stab of guilt filled Maverick’s chest.
“I promise you, I was. Or, you know, unless you would prefer we didn’t–”
“I’d love to. Really. A lot.” Maverick nodded to reinforce his words.
“Cool.” Ice smiled just a little, then a bit more. “But as much as I’d love to discuss this with you, we have work tomorrow.”
“Right.”
“And, I’m glad you stayed. And that you woke me up.” Iceman said as they settled back down onto the bed, turning the light off.
“Me too.”
As Ice’s heartbeat evened back out, Maverick’s matched it. Their breathing filling in unison.