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Ice keeps coming home to an empty house.
It’s not Mav’s fault, not really. Maverick Mitchell was born to fly. He’s got his head in the clouds, the sky taking permanent residence in his brain. He loves the feeling of being free and being in control, of belonging somewhere. Maverick belongs in a plane, and he does some of his best work when he’s coasting on his wings. It’s why Ice sticks his neck out for him all the time to keep him in the air. The Navy needs Maverick.
But Ice needs him, too.
Ice wants to hug his partner when he comes home from work every day. He wants to hear his stupid jokes and teasing words without the tinny speaker of the telephone coming between them. He wants to tell him he loves him without fearing it’ll be the last time he ever gets to say it. But he knows Maverick needs the speed to be happy. That’s just the way he’s built. And who would Ice be to deny that from him? He keeps Maverick up there because he loves him.
On darker days, he wonders if Maverick loves the sky more than he loves Ice. But letting his mind wander there won’t do anyone any good. Thoughts like that make him weaker. They distract him and make him hurt and he knows it isn’t true, anyway.
He knows it.
Doesn’t he?
He knows it, because when Maverick comes home after his latest mission, he wraps Ice in a crushing hug and kisses the life out of him and says, “You were always on my mind, Kazansky,” and they go to bed and breathe each other in and Ice feels warmer than he has in months. He sleeps without nightmares with Mav in his arms, with the weight of the man he’s loved for decades wrapped around him. It lifts a chronic burden off his shoulders and he feels free, and for the first time in a long time, everything is perfect.
And then he remembers that what makes him feel free is not the same as what makes Maverick feel free. Mav is at his best in the sky, isn’t he? Ice is keeping him from that.
It’s the dumbest thing ever to feel jealous of a facet of nature, isn’t it?
Mav burrows his face into Ice’s chest and murmurs, “I missed you, Ice. Missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” Ice says, trying not to let the crumbling pieces of his heart leak out. “I always miss you.”
“‘M sorry,” Mav says quietly. “I know I should be here more often. With you.”
“It’s fine,” Ice says, lying through his teeth but Mav deserves to hear better than what he really thinks. “The sky calls your name.”
“That it does,” Mav says, and Ice can hear the smile in his voice.
He really is competing with nature.
He spends the week with Mav, taking him out to quiet dinners in restaurants that are a far enough drive for them not to run into anyone they know, sitting in booths with peeling cushions and tangling their feet together under the table, talking for hours about everything. They go for walks along the beach, and Ice’s heart twists every time he sees Mav look longingly up at the clouds.
They go stargazing on Mav’s last night home, driving up to Torrey Pines and sprawling out on the grass with only each other and a blanket for warmth. Mav points out a constellation and starts talking about its meaning, and Ice nods along, only half listening. He’s already got a little countdown timer ticking in his mind, clocking off the hours until their house is empty again.
He holds Maverick tight when they get home and go to bed, closing his eyes and trying to memorize the feel of him in his arms, knowing damn well he’s going to miss him like the Earth would miss the moon.
His gravity is gone, and he’s hurtling toward oblivion.
He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, even though he knows he won’t get any sleep tonight. He feels tears leaking from his eyes and pooling in their bedsheets. The dampness of it jolts him from his thoughts, and he takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. This is stupid. This won’t do. Nothing good will come of him feeling sorry for himself.
Except the next morning, Maverick’s gone, and there’s a note on the bedside table in his messy scrawl that reads, Sorry I had to leave before you got up! I’m gonna miss you. I’ll be home before you know it. I love you <3
Then Ice really does break down.
Because home, for Maverick, is up there. Not down here, with him. Ice remembers something Mav told him once that Charlie said. Something like “You won’t be happy unless you’re going Mach 2 with your hair on fire.”
She was damn right about that.
Ice has wondered, at times, if he can really keep doing this. He doesn’t break down every time Mav leaves. No, really. Most of the time, he’s fine. He can bear it. Plenty of people have long-distance relationships, especially in the Navy. Most of their friends have to deal with this too.
It’s just, it hurts how much Maverick really belongs up there. Anyone can tell that the clouds part and the sun shines for him when he’s in the cockpit of a plane. He won’t be happy without it, and Ice knows it. He couldn’t possibly ask Mav to give it all up just for him. It wouldn’t be fair to Mav.
He knows it’s why Maverick hasn’t taken any promotions, too. Ice became an admiral years ago because he could bear life on the ground. He was content with it. But Mav? He’ll be up in the sky until hell freezes over, as long as he can help it. And if that’s what Mav wants, Ice will be happy to keep him there.
He loves Pete “Maverick” Mitchell with his entire heart, and what makes him happy makes Ice happy.
Some days, though. Some days, Ice wonders what it would be like if Mav did take a promotion. If he stayed on the ground with him, there for him to come home to every night, to hold in his arms for as long as he wanted because the sky could wait, for once. The sky could take its damn freedom and shove it up its ass.
But Ice remembers that freedom, too. He remembers how it tasted, the way it felt like you could do anything and be anything you wanted. It’s something both he and Maverick needed back when they were younger, when they were running from the pain of their pasts and the hatred they held for themselves. The sky was their escape.
So he can’t entertain the possibility of Mav cutting off that escape just because Ice gets lonely sometimes. It would be selfish, and Ice has learned to put selfishness aside long ago.
It isn’t until Mav crashes the Darkstar (going Mach 10.3, the idiot) that Ice wonders if Mav will finally come home. But there’s a new mission, a mission that everyone says is impossible, and Ice knows then that they need Maverick. So he recommends him, even as another little piece of his heart breaks off and falls down, down, down, splashing into dust.
Mav needs this. He needs the sky, and the sky needs him. The Navy and the kids flying that mission need him. Everyone needs him, and their lives, wives, and children deserve that more than Ice’s stupid little heart does. Ice knows that Mav will give those kids what they need. He can bring them all home and give the Navy yet another win, however many rules of decorum he may break along the way. And Ice will wait.
He gets Mav at home for this, though, and that’s something he’s grateful for. It’s one of the only missions Mav gets to stay with him for. It’ll be the only one for a long while, if everything goes well. He’ll be up and away before long, but for now, Ice savors the weeks he’s home. He holds him and breathes him in and soothes him about Bradley. He pours all of his love between them, and feels all the love that Mav gives him right back, and everything is good. He even manages not to be sad when Mav and the Daggers leave for the carrier that’ll take them to their mission.
This is the way things are. Ice on the ground, watching over Mav like some guardian angel because that’s the way his love has taken form. Mav in the air, flying his heart out and gracing the sky with love of his own.
But then after that mission, when Mav gets back to shore and Ice finds him among the cheering crowd, checking to make sure he’s alive, feeling the beat of his heart and the warmth of his breath, Mav says, “You know, I think it’s high time I came home to you.”
“You always do,” Ice says back, burying his face in Mav’s shoulder.
“No,” Mav says. “Like, for good.”
Ice gapes at him. “What? But…” He grasps at the air for words. “You love flying,” he finishes weakly.
Mav smiles sadly. “But I love you more. I’ve been so terrible to you, and I haven’t shown you how much you mean to me. You are worth more than the sky will ever be, Tom Kazansky. I’m sorry I didn’t realize how bad I’ve been at showing it. I want to come home, Ice. To you.”
Ice stares at him, stunned in place with the wind knocked out of him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but didn’t think he ever would.
Mav is looking at him nervously, and Ice feels all the emotions of three decades crash into him and bowl him over, and he pulls Mav into a hug and lets the tears fall from his eyes and lets his touch say all the words he can’t.
Mav draws back after a bit and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you,” he says softly.
“I love you too,” Ice says, waves of relief and love and everything he’s never let himself feel rushing over him and leaving him raw. “I love you so much. I didn’t think…”
Mav looks at him, confused. “You didn’t think what? You didn’t think I loved you? I mean, I thought that was pretty obvious.”
Ice shrugs, looking at anywhere but Mav. He looks at Bradley across the crowd, talking happily with Phoenix and Hangman. He watches the two Admirals, Bates and Simpson, standing to the side and watching the kids proudly. He looks up at the sky, a bittersweet feeling coming over him. He admits, “I didn’t think you loved me more than you loved it up there.”
“What?” Mav says. Ice looks away again. Mav tries to catch his eye, then reaches up to turn Ice’s face to look at him. “Of course I love you more, Ice. I love you more than anything. I’m so fucking sorry I haven’t shown it. I know I’ve been an idiot. I haven’t been there for you. I don’t deserve you.”
“That’s not true,” Ice protests, but Mav shakes his head.
“No, it is. You deserved my love and my time, and I was shit at showing either of those to you. I’m gonna do better from now on, I promise you. If you still want it, that is.”
“Of course I do,” Ice says emphatically. “I always do. I love you, Mav, and I always will.”
Mav smiles. “Well, in that case, we can start with this,” he says, and promptly drops down to one knee.
Ice’s eyes widen, and he hears gasps from the people nearest to them in the crowd. Slowly, the din dies down, and suddenly everyone’s watching them.
“I really should’ve done this years ago,” Mav says sheepishly. “I’m an idiot for not doing it before, Ice, and I’m sorry. I haven’t given you the love you deserve, but I’d like to from now on, and I promise I’ll be better. You’ve lost that loving feeling, and I want to give it back.”
Ice laughs tearfully. “It’s not the vows yet, dumbass.”
Mav grins at him back. “No, but I’m hoping it will be soon enough. Tom Kazansky, will you marry me?”
“Yes, yeah,” Ice chokes out, feeling like his face is going to crack from smiling, and Mav springs up and throws his arms around Ice. The crowd around them starts cheering, and Ice pulls Mav into a kiss and thinks, I never have to let him go again.
Bradley makes his way through the crowd and gives them a big hug, and it’s strange, isn’t it, how Ice hasn’t hugged Bradley in years, but here he is, congratulating them and asking Mav, “Let’s talk later?”
Mav nods and wraps one arm around Ice’s waist and the other around Bradley’s shoulders, pulling him in for another hug and says, “After I spend some time with my fiancé.”
And, well, isn’t that amazing?
They’re home.