Archive of Our Own

Mav, are you free tonight? I know you're in town.

I need to tell you something. Can you come by? 

I think I need my wingman. Can we meet? I know you're in town. 

Up for a night with your wingman? 

Always! I'll be there at 1800. 

– 

Ice hears Mav arriving on his bike exactly at the promised time. Waiting for Mav to get upstairs, he stands at the already opened door to his flat. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves down and appear normal although he knows he looks weary. He had spent the last minutes trying to make his hair look presentable again. If you'd ask a stranger on the street, they would probably say that he just looks like any man after a long and exhausting day at work. But that's not true and Ice is almost sure that Mav will look right through him. Maybe that would be for the best. Maybe that would make everything easier. He fears Mav's reaction nevertheless. 

A moment later, Mav arrives at his door. Ice invites him in and they hug. 

This has become their usual greeting ever since his divorce from Sarah two years ago. Ice hugs Mav maybe a bit too long, a bit too closely and a bit too intimately for a friend but he frankly doesn't care. Mav’s hair is disheveled from the wind, not from wearing a helmet he still refuses to put on, no matter how often Ice asks him to. And he smells like gasoline and summer heat and simply just like him. So yes, Ice doesn't care if their hug is too intimate. Who knows how often he can still do that, how often he can still wrap his arms around and feel and smell his wingman, his best friend, the man he's been ridiculously and unrequitedly in love with for way too long now? He doesn't know and he fears it's one of the last hugs already. 

It would be a lie to say this, these feelings had only started after the end of him and Sarah. If he was being honest, they've always been there, ever since Top Gun, ever since this god-damn little black-haired feral shrimp had stepped into his life. It would also be a lie to say he hadn't loved Sarah. He had loved her once but over the years it had become painfully clear that he had just loved the idea of them and the idea of being just a regular straight man with a wife and two kids. 

When that hadn't been enough anymore (and he definitely doesn't blame Sarah for ending it, she deserves better), he had moved into this flat. On his first night here, he had asked Mav to come by, knowing that he was in town as he usually kept track of his whereabouts. They had drunk too much, Mav too much beer, he too much whiskey, Mav had crashed on his couch and Ice had allowed himself for the first time to actually feel those feelings which had been securely locked in a back corner of his heart for decades. Save to say these feelings haven't left ever since. 

Ice releases Mav from the hug reluctantly. He wouldn't mind holding him and being held by him forever. He tricks himself into thinking that Mav feels the same. It's torture to think that way but he can't help it, not with Mav being so close to him and only pulling away from the hug the exact same second that Ice lets go. 

While they are on their way to the living room, Ice feels the first wave of tension falling off his shoulders. Mav doesn't seem to have noticed any difference, not yet at least. He's already chatting something about the Darkstar, testing out her limits and, naturally for Mav, overstepping those limits. Usually, Ice would listen to his chatter but he can't concentrate today, not with this letter lying crumpled on his kitchen table and the prospect of a life that doesn't have a future anymore.

Mav flops down on the couch, kicks his shoes from his feet and crosses them on the coffee table. If Ice didn't know it better, he'd say Mav is the one living here, not him. 

Ice keeps standing, in the middle of the room and indecisively wringing his hands. He feels the need to get the news out as soon as possible but can't make his mouth say any words to start the conversation that will make everything more real. 

Mav looks up at him with his beautiful hazel and green eyes and from the look on his face it's achingly clear that he has noticed something being off. He looks at him with such worry in his eyes that Ice is barely able to keep eye contact. How stupid of him to think Mav wouldn't notice a difference. Of course, he does. He's his best friend, they know each other inside out, well most of it anyway. Ice diverts his eyes from the man he loves and stares at an undetermined spot on the wall above his head. 

“Ice? Why am I here?” Mav asks inquisitively, his voice as thick with concern as his eyes. Ice could just say it, say that he's sick, say that cancer is the reason for the months-old cough Mav had told him to see a doctor for. 

“Beer?” Ice asks instead, avoiding both to meet his eyes and to answer his question. 

“Sure.” 

Ice turns on his heels and walks over to the kitchen. On his way to the fridge, his eyes get stuck on the letter on the table. It's crumpled at the edges, albeit being only a few hours old, and there's the stain of a single tear on it, probably dried by now. He hadn't allowed himself to cry. Tears won’t make him fine again, but he couldn't stop that one tear from escaping his eyes when he read through the letter again earlier, right after coming back from the oncologist which now, apparently, happens to be his oncologist for the unforeseeable future. 

He grabs the letter, then goes to the fridge and takes two bottles of beer - one with alcohol, one without. Personally, he hates that stuff but his doctor had said no alcohol anymore, one of the few things that had stuck from the conversation with him, probably because he had known that already anyway because of Carole. So, on his way home, he had stopped by a supermarket to buy two sixpacks of beer, one for him and one for Mav, before he’d even agreed to come over because Ice simply had known that he would. 

Ice walks back into the living room to find Mav still sitting on his couch like he's living inventory. To say he feels shitty would be an understatement but the sight does make him smile. Mav's doing something on his phone but looks up and puts it away as soon as he notices Ice approaching again. 

Ice opens both bottles, sets them on the coffee table and sits down next to Mav who immediately frowns at him. 

“Alcohol-free? You hate that stuff,” he comments and wrinkles his nose in disgust which definitely would have looked cute under different circumstances. 

Ice doesn't reply but throws the letter into his lap instead. “That's why you’re here,” he chokes out. 

Ice watches Mav unfold the letter and sit down properly on the couch. His feet are on the ground now, his back is hunched forward, elbows digging into his knees, the letter held in front of his eyes. 

Ice’s stomach churns, knowing that this news which managed to shatter his life into pieces within seconds will hit Mav completely out of the blue. 

Mav doesn't move an inch while reading through the letter. Ice can see his jaw clenching and starting to tremble the longer he reads. His hands add another few crinkles to the edges of the letter. Ice wonders if he reads all of it or if he skips the scientific stuff, the incomprehensible test results, and just goes for the clear statement at the bottom. That's probably what he does. Then again, he read through a lot of medical stuff when Carole was… well, maybe he does read all of it. 

When he's done, he turns towards Ice who doesn't dare to look into his face, afraid of what he'll see there. 

“I…,” Mav starts, stops, sniffs. “Fuck, sorry…” he wipes his eyes, swallows. “The cough?” 

Ice nods while tears shoot up into his eyes. He can't talk. He pinches the bridge of his nose, glasses rising up on his fingers, then drags his fingers through his closed eyes, trying to keep the tears in. Mav knowing about it suddenly makes it much more real, makes it more definite and all of that makes it much more difficult to contain his emotions. 

“Come here,” Mav whispers shakily, opening his arms for Ice. 

Next thing Ice knows, Mav is hugging him tightly and Ice is clutching to him like he's his lifeline. Ice tries, really tries to blink his tears away but it just doesn't work anymore. His breath is shaky and stuttering, his eyes are blurry and his glasses steamy. His whole body starts to tremble in a vain attempt to keep himself from sobbing uncontrollably.

Then Mav starts to rub his back soothingly and it's all over. Resting his head on Mav's shoulder, he gives in. Letting go of all the built up tension inside his body, heavy sobs leave his body and shortly after stain his glasses and Mav’s t-shirt. It's one of those plain white things he looks ridiculously good in, always has and probably always will. What is ridiculous, too, and what makes him almost chuckle is that even now he can't help but think about how handsome Mav is. 

“I'm sorry,” Ice sniffs after what feels like an eternity when the first wave of sobs and tears has subsided. 

“I don't wanna hear it,” Mav replies, still hugging him closely. His voice is croaky, too. “You've got every right in the world to feel this way.” Mav pulls away a bit, holding him by his shoulders, then carefully takes the glasses from his nose and puts them on the coffee table. 

For a split of a second, Ice wants to protest but he doesn't. Mav pulls him into his arms again and he just stays there. He quite simply wants to stay here forever. 

They don't talk. They don't need to. Not now and not yet. The only sounds to be heard for what feels like hours are occasional sobs and sniffs from both of them. 

Ice stays in Mav's embrace even after their tears have subsided. Equally, Mav keeps rubbing his back and Ice actually manages to relax a bit against his touch. But then one of Mav's hands moves up to his neck, cradling the back of his head, caressing his hair and a shiver runs down Ice's spine that has absolutely nothing to do with the crappy situation he's in. This is just about his feelings for Mav and he wishes that this means more to Mav than friendship, too. Wishes that almost as much as he wishes to be well again. 

Ice has stopped trying to keep track of time. It doesn't matter as long as Mav holds him close. He sucks in the feeling of Mav's hands on his back and in his neck, in his hair, his warm chest against his. He tries to memorize every bit of it. 

Then however, his thoughts take a turn and suddenly, all he can think about is that he hopes to keep his hair although he doesn't think he's that lucky. Another wave of sobs escapes him just thinking about that. He knows it's pathetic, it's just hair. But still, he's going to miss it. Mav doesn't say anything but simply hugs him more tightly.

Again, it takes him quite some time to calm down but it doesn't seem to matter to Mav. He's just there, holding him. Right now, he's being the best friend Ice could wish for and he's endlessly thankful for that but at the same time his heart aches knowing that that's all he’ll ever be. His best friend. 

“You haven't eaten anything all day long, have you?” Mav asks at some point. 

“How…?” Ice starts, pulling a bit away to properly look and frown at Mav.

“One, I know you. You stop eating whenever something is off. Two, your belly is grumbling,” Mav explains and pinches his stomach with the hand that was holding his head before.

“I didn't notice,” Ice replies truthfully because Mav is right. He stops eating as soon as something bothers him, no matter how small or big that something is. It's always been that way. He doesn't do it on purpose. His body just stops telling him to eat. If it hadn't been for Slider he probably would have lost twenty pounds after Goose's death. If it hadn't been for Mav, he surely would have at least lost ten during his divorce. And he had actually lost just as many after he had found out about what had happened between Mav and Bradley. That's just how it is and it's not surprising at all that he hasn't eaten anything on a day like this. 

Mav just huffs in response, releases him from their embrace and Ice has to hold back a complaining whine at the loss of touch and warmth of his best friend. Mav jumps up from the couch, a sudden boost of energy apparently shooting through his body. He grabs Ice's hand and pulls him up, too. 

“What are you doing?” Ice asks, too surprised to put up any resistance about being pulled up. The moment he stands he notices how extremely exhausted he is. He doesn't know if it's the cancer in his body or if it's because of all the crying or both.

“I'm going to make us dinner,” Mav announces without any hesitation. “And you're joining me in the kitchen.” 

“Oh, okay,” Ice mumbles back and that’s all he can get out. Mav is still holding his hand and if he's not completely out of his mind and hallucinating, is Mav not only holding his hand but brushing his thumb over his. 

The short walk over to the kitchen feels like an eternity and the blink of an eye all at once. Ice can only focus on their joined hands which is actually good because it diverts his thoughts, at least for a moment, from the misery that is his life now. Mav’s hand is warm and strong and Ice simply never wants to let go of it. Before long though, they reach the kitchen, Ice is nudged towards one of the chairs around the kitchen table and gone is Mav's hand around his. 

Ice slumps down on the chair and before he can even mourn the loss of Mav's hand, it's on his shoulder, squeezing him gently and staying there for a few seconds. 

Then Mav walks over to the counter, pulls two paper towels from the holder, gives one to Ice and blows his nose with the other. Then he throws it into the trash and washes his hands before walking over to the fridge and peeking inside. 

Ice blows his nose, too. Disgustingly enough, the snot seeps through the paper immediately and he looks at his fingers, wincing. “I'm gonna wash my face… and grab my glasses,” he announces and makes a move to stand up. 

Mav swirls around and is by his side in no time, his hand cupping his upper arm softly. “You go to the bathroom, I get your glasses. I'm sure they need a clean up.” 

Ice nods. He's too tired to argue, too tired to say that it's more than enough that Mav makes them dinner and that he can get and clean his glasses himself. 

Ice drags himself to the bathroom. He avoids looking at himself in the mirror and just turns on the water. He lets the water run over his hands, the insides of his wrists, the veins there. He waits until the water is cold, soaks his hands until his whole body is shivering. Then he drags his freezing, wet hands through his face several times until his cheeks feel numb and his eyes aren't burning anymore. 

There's a knock on the door and Mav's concerned voice coming through it. “Are you okay? You… You've been gone for quite some time. I wanted to check in on you.” 

“Yes, I'm fine,” he quickly replies, then laughs sarcastically. He's everything but fine and Mav knows that just as much. “You know what I mean,” he adds. 

“Okay, I'm going back to the kitchen. Let me know if you need me for anything.” 

I need you. Always. Constantly. For no specific reason. Just because I love you. Ice sighs and keeps his mouth shut, of course. If he wasn't feeling so terrible, he's sure there would be a ton of butterflies swirling around in his belly in reaction to Mav being so caring and attentive. Well, if he's being honest with himself, there are definitely butterflies there now, too, but they are just lazily sitting around most of the time, their beats only tickling him from time to time, reminding him of how good Mav's attention makes him feel, even today, especially today. 

Ice drags his hands through his face one last time, turns off the water, rubs his face and hands dry and walks back to the kitchen. 

Reaching his destination, he seriously wonders for how long he's been gone. The kitchen already smells like food, garlic and onions specifically. There's a pot on the stove with water that is slowly starting to boil. And a pan in which said garlic and onions are already fizzling. 

“Seems like your cooking skills and your familiarity with my kitchen comes in handy now,” Ice comments and sits back down at the kitchen table, instantly feeling better than only seconds ago when he was alone in the bathroom. Their bottles of beer have made it to the kitchen, too, and he takes a sip, noticing that he hasn't druck nearly enough today and that his mouth is dry. His glasses are also there, freshly cleaned, just like Mav had promised. He puts them on again. 

Mav turns around from the kitchen counter where he's opening a pack of tomato sauce. “I wouldn't be surprised if you told me that I've cooked more meals here than you.” 

“That might be true actually,” Ice admits. He's not one for cooking. He can make himself some easy meals but he usually lives on take-away and whatever it is they are serving that day on base. 

Mav chuckles and God, the sound goes right into his belly, waking up the butterflies. He really wouldn't mind hearing that sound each and every day for the rest of his life. 

“I’ve never understood how you can eat that mess hall shit voluntarily,” Mav says with his back towards Ice, digging through the very limited selection of spices in one of the kitchen drawers. 

“Convenience and it's cheap.” 

“Are you seriously telling me you of all people in the Navy don't earn enough money to afford proper food?” Mav turns around, hands on his hips and looks at him with an amused expression on his face. 

“Maybe I just like to hear you moping about my eating habits,” Ice shrugs. 

“Or maybe you just don't want me to stop cooking for you whenever I'm here.” 

“Maybe,” Ice replies. There's no point in denying it. He can't count how many times Mav has already been here, cooking for the both of them. And there hasn't been a single time in which he didn't like what Mav had come up with. 

“When's the last time you've cleaned out this drawer?” Mav asks incredulously, roaming through a drawer in which Ice supposes must be some packs of instant noodles and all sorts of canned food. “There’s stuff in here that was best before you stopped flying. And how's that even possible? You've only been living here for what, two years?” 

Ice knows he should reply. Something. Anything. But suddenly he's too caught up in the view in front of him. Mav is still with his back towards him, upper body bent over the opened drawer and to say his jeans fit him perfectly would be an understatement and it should be forbidden for a man his age to pull off that look so easily. The way he's standing there his t-shirt is rucked up a tiny bit, showing a golden patch of skin just above his waistband and suddenly, Ice seriously worries about the butterflies in his belly being smelted by a flamethrower. 

“You with me?” Mav asks, turning around. 

“Yeah,” Ice quickly replies and hopes his cheeks don't betray him by blushing suspiciously. “As I said, I like to listen to your complaints about my dietary choices.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Mav answers, sounding like he doesn't believe a single word he's saying. Meanwhile he pours the tomato sauce into the pan and throws half a pack of pasta into the now boiling water. 

Mav starts chatting about work again and this time Ice actually listens and throws his comments in from time to time. He's glad for the distraction, has been ever since he came back from the bathroom. 

“You know, you maybe shouldn't tell me all the shit you pull off,” Ice chuckles at some point. “I'm your boss after all.” 

“Hm, you're everyone’s boss on this side of the ocean and this way you know it directly from the source and aren't surprised in case you get complaints about me from the admirals.” 

“Mav, honestly, I'm never surprised when a complaint about you reaches me,” Ice laughs. “Doesn't matter if you've told me beforehand or not.” 

Strictly speaking, Mav isn't his responsibility at work but somehow he's become exactly that over the years. Most of the admirals just know that Admiral Kazansky, COMPACFLT, is most likely the only person in the entire Navy who is able to keep Captain Mitchell in check, so yes, complaints about Mav reach him on a regular basis although it's not really his responsibility. 

Mav just shrugs. “And you must admit my stories are funny.” 

Ice sighs. “Yes, yes, they are. More often than not and from your perspective, at least.” 

“See? It's good that I tell you all those things,” Mav says, mixing pasta and sauce in the pan before filling a plate for each of them. 

“Here you go,” Mav puts the plate down in front of Ice, handing him a fork, too, before sitting down opposite of him. 

“Thanks,” Ice says and digs in immediately. Of course, it tastes delicious and Ice has no idea how Mav again and again manages to make a proper dinner out of what he finds in his crappy supply. They eat mostly in silence and when Mav is finished before him, he starts talking about random stuff again. Ice likes to listen to him, likes to hear his voice, likes to see the signature smirk on his face - and wants to kiss that smirk off his face more than ever. 

When Ice is finished, too, an awkward silence falls over the two of them and Mav clears his throat. “Now that we're both filled with the delicious dinner I conjured out of nowhere, I think we should… talk… a bit,” Mav announces, becoming more and more serious towards the end of the sentence. 

“We’ve been talking the whole time,” Ice answers, unsure of what Mav is hinting at but at the same time knowing that it must be something about him having cancer. 

“You know that's not what I meant.” Mav leans forward and places his hand on top of Ice's. His heart skips a beat but he can't savor it. Mav hasn't even said anything specific yet but he already feels his eyes tearing up again. 

“Hey, it's okay. I'm here,” Mav whispers sympathetically, brushing his thumb over the back of Ice's hand. “And I'm going to help you the best I can but to do so I need to know what’s the plan. Surgery? Medication? Chemotherapy? Radiation therapy?” 

Ice gulps, closes his eyes shut for a second, then focuses his eyes and thoughts on Mav’s hand stroking his own. 

“Chemo starts tomorrow… I… sorry... I don't remember much of the other things I was told today,” Ice mumbles, putting his glasses away again. He rubs his hands across his face, trying to hide his blurry eyes. 

“That’s okay, Ice. As long as you know where you have to be and when, it’s all okay.” 

Ice nods. “I know that. Both.” 

“Good. We’ll figure out the rest together. I’m coming with you and then they can tell me, too, and I’ll make them explain everything again in words that normal people actually understand and then you’re gonna kick that cancer’s ass in no time.” The way he puts it’s not even a question. 

“Mav, you don’t have to come with me,” Ice protests because he just can’t not. Mav already did all of that once. Caring for a friend sick with cancer, dying of cancer, that is. He just can't force this on him once again. 

“I’m coming with you,” Mav repeats. 

“But…” 

“Stop it, Mr. Commander of the fucking U.S. Pacific Fleet. I won't be having an argument with you about that!” Mav lets go of Ice's hand, his voice sharp and resolute but it's nothing Ice wouldn't be used to. They've had quite some heavy arguments over the years, neither of them giving in, for hours, sometimes maybe even days or weeks. It's nothing why Ice would suddenly back away from his point and let Mav win.

Then, however, Mav is taking a breath, his voice turns softer now and his hand his back on Ice's. “Listen, Ice, I really don't want to pick a fight here. Just… just let me come with you, okay? Did you forget that I'm your wingman? In sickness and in health.” 

“That's… that's not… that's what people promise each other when they get married, Mav,” Ice corrects him, shaking his head ever so slightly and squinting his eyes, though Ice knows he would do exactly the same for Mav, undoubtedly and without second thoughts, and that he’d be just as unrelenting if Mav was in his place. 

Mav shrugs. “Nevermind, applies here, too.” 

“Mav, you don't…” 

“Didn't you hear what I said? I won't let you go through this alone.” 

“But you have to go to work.” It's a weak point but it's the only one that Ice can think of right now. 

“I’m accompanying one of the highest ranking people in the whole Navy to his cancer treatment. I’m sure I’m excused,” Mav drawls. 

Ice can't say anything against that. He's defeated. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Thank you.” Mav pats Ice’s hand and smiles at him for a moment. “Why don’t you make yourself comfy on the sofa, choose a movie or something, I’ll clean up the kitchen and join you then?” 

“Mav, you don’t have to clean the kitchen.” 

Mav just gives him a pointed look. 

“Okay, okay,” Ice holds his hands up in defense. 

Having made his way on the couch, Ice turns on the TV and zaps through various streaming apps. He doesn't really find anything that tickles his fancy but at least it diverts his attention enough from the two most pressing matters in his life right now: his cancer and (ridiculously right behind that) his crush on Mav. Because that's all it is. A ridiculous crush on his best friend he shouldn't be having with both of them being grown men in their late 50s. Hell, he doesn't even know if Mav is into men. He probably isn't. It's something that surely would have come up at some point, considering their friendship spanning more than thirty years, right? 

Ice still hasn't decided on anything to watch when he hears footsteps approaching from the kitchen. He turns around, looking over the backrest of the sofa, and expects to see Mav with a smirk on his face and on his way to continue his mission of cheering him up. 

What he actually sees doesn't meet his expectations. Not at all. Mav drags himself into the living room, face down, red eyes. It's more than obvious that he'd been crying all alone in the kitchen after sending Ice away. 

When he notices Ice watching him, he tries at a smile but doesn't really succeed. “Decided on anything yet?” 

“Not yet,” Ice replies and shakes his head, waiting for Mav to slump down next to him on the sofa.  

“Some kind of action movie? Or maybe comedy? I really don't mind,” Mav starts talking, obviously trying to cover up his true emotions.

“Mav?” 

“Hm?” 

“You don't have to pretend to be all strong and happy in front of me,” Ice says and hopes it sounds more sympathetic than scolding. 

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”  

Now it's Ice giving him a pointed look. “Don't even try to lie to me.” 

“I don't… I… fuck…” Mav squeezes his eyes shut and his body starts trembling before a few heavy sobs escape him. 

Without even thinking twice, Ice wraps his arms around Mav's shoulders and pulls him close to his chest. It hurts him to the bones to see Mav so sad and what's even worse is that he's the reason for it. The least he can do is try to comfort him. 

Ice rests his head on Mav's. For a second, he thinks about placing a kiss on top of Mav's head but refrains from doing it. Friends don't do that. 

His eyes are teary again, too, but this time he actually thinks he can keep them in, being more concerned about Mav's wellbeing than his own. 

“I don't want to… I… you're my best friend,” Mav stutters between sobs. Ice rubs his back soothingly, ignoring the stab in his chest because of Mav once again making clear that they are just friends. Best friends, yes, but nothing more. 

“You know, they said I'm lucky they found it relatively early,” Ice replies after a moment and in an attempt to say something reassuring. 

“Lucky,” Mav spats. 

He knows Mav is right. He's not lucky. He has cancer. But he ignores his comment. 

“Without you I wouldn't even have considered getting a check up. I feel fine most of the time. I haven't coughed a single time this evening.” 

Mav doesn't reply. 

“They said there are good chances of full recovery,” he adds after a moment. Both to convince Mav and himself that it's maybe not that bad. 

“They said the same when Ca-” 

“Hey, hey, hey, don't go there, Mav. Don't even think about going there,” Ice says with a sudden outburst of strength and while being very aware of the fact that he had been thinking exactly the same when his doctor had told him that. 

“But-” Mav starts but it doesn't even take Ice to interrupt him before he's back sobbing against Ice's chest. 

“I’ll be fine again. Like you said I'm gonna kick that cancer’s ass in no time,” he tries to soothe him. He doesn't really believe it himself but says it nevertheless and it at least earns him a wet chuckle from Mav which is definitely going to soak his shirt but he honestly couldn't care less. 

“I- I'm sorry. I should be the one comforting you,” Mav sniffs into Ice's shoulder. “Not the other way ‘round.” 

Ice just pats his back and continues to whisper soft reassurances. As awful as it sounds, comforting Mav makes him feel less miserable. It's something he can do. Something he is good at. To some extent at least. And it diverts him from his own misery and hopelessness. At least a bit. 

After a while, when Mav's sobs have subsided, Ice pulls away a bit to take a look and check in on him but of course, he looks into teary eyes and at wet cheeks. He feels the urge to kiss away his tears. But they are just friends. Wingmen. Best friends. Nothing more. He doesn't think any further but uses his thumb to wipe Mav's tears from his cheeks. 

The sadness in Mav's eyes leaves for a second, giving way for surprise - or at least that's what Ice thinks it is. Hugging is somewhat normal for them. But this is not. This feels more intimate. But Mav doesn't seem to be bothered. Not at all. Instead, he rests his forehead against Ice's. 

Ice’s heart skips a beat at having Mav so intimately close by his side. This is definitely not the right moment to think about it but he can't help it. It would be easy to just lean in and kiss him. It would be wet and teary and snotty. But he could. He doesn’t though, of course, he doesn’t. Mav is just his best friend. 

“I don't think I can handle losing you,” Mav admits in a whisper, looking him straight in the eye. He's still so close Ice can feel his breath on his skin. 

“You don't have to handle that.” Not now. Not today. At least. Ice tries to stay strong but a small wave of tears trickles down his cheeks. Within the blink of an eye, Mav reciprocates Ice's actions and wipes his tears away with his thumb. His hands feel warm, comfortable. Ice wants to close his eyes, lean into the touch, pretend that it's more than friendship between them. 

They stay like this for a moment, watching each other, scanning each other’s features. It's intimate. At some point a small smile creeps up to Mav's eyes and Ice again wants to kiss him. Badly now. And tell him how much he means to him. And that he doesn't want to miss out on this, whatever this is, ever again. And that he loves him. 

“Are… are you feeling better?” Ice asks before he can do something really stupid. “Still up for watching a movie?” 

“Yeah, right,” Mav mumbles and sits up properly again. Ice mourns the loss of having him so close by but he's also glad because this way he might think less about doing something really inappropriate. “What about The Cat Returns?” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ice frowns at Mav who looks at him with a combination of amusement and shock. 

“Your kids love that movie! I don't wanna know how often Christopher and Amber made me watch it with them when they were younger. They even made Bradl… anyway, they love it. Don't tell me you've never seen it.” 

“Never heard of it would be more precise,” Ice admits and suddenly realizes that he has to tell his kids, too. And Sarah. And Bradley. Who is as good as a son to him, too, after all those weeks and months he has spent with him and his family when Mav had been deployed somewhere. They haven't really spoken ever since Mav has done… what he has done but Ice sends him messages now and then. Happy birthdays and merry Christmas’ and happy Thanksgivings! And he gets messages back in return. Thank yous and happy birthdays and happy Thanksgivings, even happy Hanukkahs. Every year, ever since. As far as he knows Bradley is still close with Christopher and Amber, despite the age difference and despite everything that has happened between him and his godfather. That Ice tries to keep contact is one of the few things Mav doesn't know about him and he doesn't plan on changing that, not until they made up with each other, although he has no idea when and why that could possibly happen. 

“So you wanna watch a children's movie?” Ice asks, forcefully pushing his thoughts back to the present moment because he really doesn't want to think about how many people he has to tell that he's sick. 

Mav shrugs. “Trust me. It's perfect to cheer you up. Cheer us up, to be precise. And you love cats, I know that for a fact.” 

Yeah, he does. One, it’s a shame pets aren't allowed in this apartment complex, otherwise he would've taken Milly with him. His cat who got to stay with Sarah and the house. He keeps telling himself that it's better for her like this anyway, with him having to travel around so much but he misses her nevertheless. And two, he's proud to say that, already years ago, he befriended the stray cat which suddenly had decided to live in Mav's hangar - and still lives there to this day and now goes by the name Tommy (Mav's idea, of course) although Mav keeps insisting that he's more of a dog person. 

“Okay, maybe that's a good idea,” Ice gives in because he doesn't know how to argue against Mav right now and because he's lacking a better suggestion. 

“My ideas are always good,” Mav replies slightly presumptuously. 

“I wouldn't say that.” Ice chuckles at Mav's boastfulness. 

“Tell me one idea of mine that wasn't good.” 

“Hm,” Ice pretends to be thinking. “How about just about everything you told me while you were making dinner?”  

“But it made you laugh and it still makes you laugh now,” Mav points out. “So, all those were good ideas.” 

Ice smiles. Yes, Mav can make him laugh, even today. And now he inevitably thinks about everything Mav has done for him. Today but also during the past thirty years. No matter the distance, he's always somehow been there. In the good times and the bad. In sickness and in health. Just like he had said. That Mav knows things about his kids that he doesn't even know himself speaks for itself, too. Also that he's moving around in Ice's flat like he's living here. And then specifically everything he's done for him today comes to Ice's mind. Coming here, making them dinner, distracting him, making him laugh. Comforting him, letting him cry his eyes out, offering to accompany him tomorrow. All the gentle touches, holding hands, wiping his tears away, that intimate moment of their touching foreheads. 

Ice's belly drops with a sudden burst of affection, releasing the butterflies from their momentary slumber.

“I love you.”

Oh. 

Fuck. 

He didn't mean to say that out loud. 

“I love you, too.” 

What? No.  

“You mean that like… platonically, don't you?” 

“I don't know. Do you?” 

What's that supposed to mean? 

“Pete… I… no, I don't.” 

“Well then I don't mean it platonically, either.” 

What? 

“What?” 

Mav cups Ice's face and gently brushes his thumb over his by now dry but still tear-stained cheek. Their eyes lock. 

“I love you, Tom,” Mav whispers. “Been falling for you for some time now but… but apparently you haven't noticed. Well, I probably wasn't the most obvious. And with everything going on, you probably had other things on your mind. Or maybe not, I don't know. And I didn't wanna risk our friendship because well, you are my best friend, and I didn't know what I'd do without you because I was sure you wouldn't like me back, at least not in that way. But I've noticed changes in… in your behavior ever since you and Sarah… since you moved here. But I didn't know if I was imagining things or if there actually was some kind of change. And even if there was, I didn't want to interpret too much into it. Then again, you’ve never even hinted at being interested in dating again which got me thinking but I just explained it by telling me that you still weren't over Sarah and-” 

“Would you please just shut up and kiss me?” 

“Oh, uh, sorry, yeah, I… I'll do that. I just-”  

Ice shakes his head with a smile and doesn't wait any longer. He leans forward and finally kisses the man he has been in love with for such a long time now. For the past thirty years, if he's being honest. 

Their lips move naturally against each other, like they are meant to do exactly that. The butterflies in Ice's belly are dancing and he can't remember if he's ever felt as much at home as now. 

“I love you, Pete,” he whispers in between kisses, this time consciously.

“And I love you, Tom.” Ice can't believe that Mav actually says it back and probably won't believe it for some time. 

As they continue kissing, Ice forgets that he's sick, forgets the impending doom of the countless doctor's appointments and the treatments he has to go through, forgets everything around him that isn't Mav. For this night it's just the two of them.