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“Just get it over with,” Maverick murmurs as Iceman crouches down next to him apologetically.
“We could always go to the hospital,” Ice offers but they both know it’s an impossible suggestion. Going to the local hospital with wet hair on a Friday night is bound to cause problems and questions neither of them can answer. Maverick shakes his head and leans his forehead against Ice’s.
The worst thing is they hadn’t even done anything . Ice had just got out of the shower as Mav stepped in and slipped on the soap residue. So Ice works quickly, and Maverick’s shoulder crunches back into place with an anguished cry.
He shakes on the floor, the towel around his waist still his only clothing. Whilst breathing through gritted teeth, Ice helps him to his feet and they walk slowly to Maverick’s bedroom. They don’t swap words. In silence, Maverick dresses. He stares at the swelling joint in the mirror as Ice disappears for aspirin and a cold pack. When he returns, Mav is still staring.
“You ain’t going to get prettier looking in the mirror.” Maverick’s laboured breathing is his only reply. “Mav?”
Ice walks over to gently twist Maverick towards him. “What’s going on?”
“We weren't doing anything wrong. We…” He leans into Ice’s fierce embrace.
“No. We weren’t – we aren’t.” Ice feels Maverick shake against him but when he winces he’s reminded of the aspirin on the bedside table. “C’mon, get some painkillers down you.”
Maverick sniffs and swipes at his eyes, clearnigh is throat gruffly. He sits on the bed. It’s been lifted for extra under-bed storage but it means that his feet barely touch the ground. Ice sits beside him and holds the ice block against the previously dislocated shoulder.
“I love flying,” Maverick whispers after downing the pills. “And you’re my wingman. I don’t want to lose either.”
“You won’t,” he says firmly. “You won’t.”
But Maverick looks up at him with glassy green eyes. “I might. It takes just one accident, the wrong person and I’m done. Me. They’ll keep you, Tom. You’re a soldier, a good one. You – you follow orders, you fly to the book. You never make a mistake.”
“You’re wrong,” Ice murmurs, looking dead into Maverick’s eyes. “I broke one order. Stay away from you.”
Maverick’s eyes widened in shock.
“When I first arrived at Top Gun,” he says slowly. “Jester told me if I wanted to stay on the straight and narrow to avoid you on the ground because if anyone was going to make me break form it would be you. The Maverick.”
Ice fidgets with the ring on his hand, the vulnerability foreign. “But I couldn’t. If the Navy discharges you, they discharge me. It takes two to tango, remember?”
The smile doesn’t lift Mav’s lips for more than a second. His eyes are shadowy. “Don’t say that.”
“Why?” Ice asks. “Because you’re not sure if you’d do the same for me? I’m not asking you to, Mav. Like you said, the truth is there’s a bunch of bureaucrats who’d rather see you go down than me. So if they come for you, they come for us.”
“You’re my wingman, Pete.”