Work Text:
Maverick sees Iceman every morning.
He sees him in the blue of the petunias they planted together in the backyard two years ago.
He sees him in the blue of his favorite dress shirt that he wore on their first wedding anniversary.
He sees him every morning when he cooks french toast, his favorite breakfast food, in the pan Iceman bought him while he was at Homegoods spending an outrageous amount of money on new things for their house- despite the fact it had already been loved and lived in for 30 years now.
Every morning and every night when he brushes his teeth and has to pluck his green toothbrush out of the holder- that also holds Ice’s blue one because he could never find it in himself to throw it out despite it no longer having a purpose- he sees his husband.
He sees him in the park in the couple that walk through smiling and holding hands, enjoying each other's presence.
He sees him in the ocean, in the sky, when he sees his favorite liquor at the store, in the accent of the weatherman on channel 12, in the diner he loved to take him to, in the san diego heat, in the rain that drips down the window, and everyday when he wakes up and spends his days in the air in a cockpit teaching a younger generation the skills and maneuvers the two of them perfected together.
He sees him everyday, every hour, every minute, every second.
And he thinks he’ll keep seeing his husband in everything until the day he dies.
They’ll meet again, he doesn’t know where, he doesn’t know when; but he knows they’ll meet again, some sunny day.