Chapter Text
“Mitchell, get the hell off me”, Ice gasps out between heaves. There’s a pleading note to his own voice that he’s never heard before, but he’s too intent on getting Mitchell to leave to pay it much mind. This is humiliating enough without a witness – especially when said witness is goddamn Maverick.
Instead of leaving, Maverick’s hold tightens. This turns out to be a smart move, as Ice’s knees do what they’ve been threatening to do since he entered the bathroom and give out on him completely. If it wasn’t for the shorter pilot’s grip, Ice would be an ungainly heap of aviator on the ground. As it is, Maverick is able to lower him down slowly, leaning him against the wall and kneeling beside him. His shrewd gaze takes in Ice’s clammy skin and ragged breathing, before finally resting on his trembling hands.
“Let’s stop doing that, huh?”, he says, with uncharacteristic softness.
Ice follows Maverick’s eye-line to find he’s digging his nails into his palm, hard enough to hurt - hard enough that when he uncurls his fingers, thin crescents of blood remain. Now that the distant pain has receded, however, there is nothing to distract him from the crushing weight that has settled on his chest. His breathing quickens, and a sob threatens to tear through him, manifesting itself as another painful retch. To his credit, Maverick doesn’t move away, placing a supporting palm on Ice’s shoulder.
“Hey, you’re alright, you’re fine, just keep breathing for me, okay? In and out, that’s it. And again.”
Ice tries to imitate Maverick’s exaggerated inhalations and, eventually, the load on his chest dissipates slightly. He is rewarded by an encouraging smile.
“That’s great, Tom.” Maverick has never called him by his first name before; to his surprise, he finds he quite likes it. “Why don’t you tell me the take-off procedure for an F-14?”
This throws Ice for a loop. Of all the things he expected Mitchell to come out with next, that was not one of them. Maverick smiles slightly at his incredulous expression.
“Just humour me.”
And, so, Ice does. He runs through the pre-flight checks. He explains how he’d request take-off clearance. Then, he describes lifting off the ground, how the airbase falls away beneath him, the pure exhilaration that floods his senses no matter how many times he’s done it before. His voice is shaky to start, but by the time he’s finished, his composure has returned, the familiarity of the routine having quietened his racing thoughts. Looking up, he finds Maverick watching him, an amused glint in his eyes.
“God, you’re such a nerd, Iceman.”
“And you’re not?”, Ice shoots back, but there’s no real heat to it; he’s just glad that he can breathe normally again. But there’s one thing he’s curious about. “How did you know that would work? The F-14 thing?”
“It always works for me”, Pete replies simply, before catching sight of Ice’s crinkled brow. “What? You’re not the only one with issues, Kazansky.” He shuffles back slightly, removing his hand from Ice’s shoulder in the process. Ice would never admit it, but he misses its comforting presence.
“How are you feeling?”, Maverick enquires from his new vantage point.
“Better, thank you.” This is not a lie. However, now that he’s calmed down, Ice is struck by a sudden self-consciousness, a desire to salvage whatever is left of his dignity. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Mitchell. My father – well, you heard me tell Slider. It’s – it’s complicated.”
“Yeah, well." Maverick grimaces. “I know something about complicated father-son relationships. Try me.”
Ice is never quite sure why he opens up to Maverick, other than the fact that he’s there and he might be the only person on base that could understand how he feels. But, whatever the reason, Ice finds himself telling Mitchell everything. Maverick considers each word carefully before responding.
“You’re more than one man’s opinion of you, Ice.”
Ice shakes his head despairingly. “I’ve tried my entire life to make him proud - graduating TOPGUN was my opportunity to make something of myself. And I’ll never get to show him? That’s bullshit.”
“So don’t do it for him”, Maverick replies quietly. “Do it because you want it. Do it because you deserve to be here – you’re a damn talented pilot, Tom. And if your dad couldn’t see that, then that was on him. Because most people can see it a mile off.”
“That’s different.” Ice swallows. “He is – was – my family.”
“I know it’s difficult, Tom, I know that. But you’ve got a family here too. Slider, Hollywood, Goose, m- erm, Merlin”, and, holy shit, Ice’s ears must have been deceiving him because he could have sworn Maverick nearly said “me.” An uncharacteristic blush heats up his face – he’s gone redder than Mav did the night he crashed and burned with Charlie.
Mitchell continues as if Ice’s face isn’t currently beet red. “Look, I know we’ve had our… differences. But if you ever need to talk, you know where I am. Just let me know if I can help.”
“Will you tell me I’m a talented pilot again? I enjoyed that bit.”
A crooked grin transforms Maverick’s features. “In your dreams, Kazansky. That was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” He claps Ice lightly on the shoulder. “Well, if you’ve finished hurling, I think we’ve spent enough time in the bathroom for one day. I can drop you back at your quarters – if you don’t mind the Kawasaki?”
Ice raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “That death trap? Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be alright. Slider’ll give me a ride.”
“Scared of motorcycles, Iceman?”
“Motorcycles? No. Your driving, on the other hand, terrifies me.”
And, just like that, they’ve returned to their customary repartee. Ice is glad. It’s not that he’s ungrateful for Maverick’s help – far from it. He just feels more comfortable on this familiar footing - less vulnerable, more like his old self.
But as Maverick begins to walk away, Ice feels the sudden need to say something more.
“Pete?”
Maverick turns around expectantly and Ice falters, as he battles with everything that he wants to say.
I’m sorry about your dad.
I think that you’re a good pilot too.
In the end, he simply says, “thank you.” There is a flash of emotion on Mitchell’s face, something that Ice can’t quite fathom. For a minute, they stand there, green eyes looking into blue – then Slider barrels in. The moment is gone, and so is Pete.
Slider watches him depart with an ugly look on his place. “What did he say? Just give the word, and I’ll sort him out for you.”
“Are you always looking for an excuse to beat up Mitchell?”, Ice asks resignedly.
“I usually pick on people my own size, but I’ll make an exception for him.”
“He was actually nice”, Ice informs him. Slider gives him a sceptical look. “You know”, he amends hurriedly. “For Maverick.”
But as Slider walks him to his truck, Ice turns over the unexpected encounter in his mind. Dangerous or not, he can’t deny the fact that Pete Mitchell came through for him today.
They aren’t exactly friends after that morning – and they won’t be until after that fateful mission on the Enterprise. But something has shifted. Their bickering becomes less heated, their rivalry less palpable, as a grudging respect develops between the two pilots.
Ice might have lost a father that day, but he comes one step closer to gaining a wingman.