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The Navy holds four constants in regard to its officers.
1. The gossip circle will be more active than a small-town knitting circle and more scathing than a group of high school mean girls.
2. Foul mouths are something you will have to grow used to if you are not already. The saying ‘to swear like a sailor’ is, after all, rather grounded in reality.
3. Conditions will be shit, privacy will be non-existent. Suck it up, buttercup.
4. The only accepted form of affection is shockingly physical. Because manly men don’t talk about their feelings, they just hug it out and call it a day.
So yes, Ice was not naive to any of the above-stated facts and he’d long since made his peace with the first three. But that fourth point…he was still having trouble with.
‘Why?’ you may ask, to which the only explanation can be…trauma! Of course, the all-too-familiar concept of childhood trauma. Most are familiar with it, many have some of their own.
Ice’s particular flavor happened to come in the form of old burn scars on his forearms, white and pink whip scars across the back, and that minute flinch he couldn’t quite train himself out of every time a superior officer barked out a command in their most authoritative tone.
Being raised by a Navy Admiral had done little Tom no good. And as a result, the older he grew, the more he hated human contact in general. Mostly because the fear response of sensing a touch and expecting it to be bad never really went away and he quickly grew tired of suppressing flinches and clenching his jaw and his hands until the knuckles turned white every single day for his entire first year at the Academy.
It had been part of the reason he earned his callsign, as many people saw him as distant, aloof, or even downright cold in nature because of the way he reacted to touch. He couldn’t lie and say that those words didn’t sting, whether they were spoken with a bite to them or between bouts of joking laughter.
Slider was the first to notice the way he clamped his teeth together and steeled himself every time someone so much as clapped his shoulder in a good-natured gesture. He didn’t ask, back then, seeing the scars in passing and putting the puzzle together. So he never laid a hand on Ice if Ice couldn’t see him first. And it helped, though Ice never once voiced it.
It took him a really long time to even acclimate to Slider’s affections, though Slider never faltered in showing them to him. They never talked about it but Slider was very adept at reading Ice’s silent cues, noticing the tension in his shoulders, figuring out that a pat on the shoulder might soothe it where a hug might worsen it, that a handshake put his guard up where a brotherly peck on the forehead disarmed it.
And Goose was right behind him in that, though his approach was more in avoiding initiating any physical contact with Ice whatsoever, sitting back and letting him lead in every interaction. Goose was easy-going and laid back like that and there’s not a day that goes by where Ice doesn’t remember him for that and misses him. The world lost a gem the day Nick Bradshaw died and that’s something Ice will never really forget.
Which is why his growing common ground with Maverick felt tentative. Because he felt guilty for Hop 31 every single day since it happened and he couldn’t ignore it when faced with Maverick, his light dimmed even when he was smiling. And yet, somehow, Maverick was the most affectionate of all of them. The more Ice thought on it, the more he remembered seeing Goose and Maverick always draped together as though they were one, casual hugs, reassuring or encouraging shoulder pats, high fives, all of it. So it made sense, he supposed, to see him hang all over Carole or toss Bradley around like a sack of flour or jump on Slider’s back like a spider monkey.
It was just adjusting to someone like that in his own inner circle that took some time for him. Because while he may have known men with such affectionate instincts, he’d never been close with one, so learning to disregard things that naturally made him uncomfortable as Maverick not knowing any better took some time. Especially since Maverick was terrible at reading social cues.
One day, Mav surprised him by chorusing into the room like a whirlwind and slinging an arm over his shoulder. Ice froze at the contact, forcing himself to breathe as he stared at the floor with panicked eyes. Slider noticed it immediately and this time, Mav realized what he’d done and backed away. Only, that made Ice more anxious in fear that he’d offended his friend and his breathing pace picked up.
“Alright, woah buddy,” Slider stepped closer, placing two grounding hands onto his shoulders, slowly and in his full line of sight, “Breath with me, nothing bad’s gonna happen.”
“What’d I do?” Mav began to panic and Slider glanced at him, keeping his hands clamped soothingly on Ice’s shoulders.
“You didn’t do anything, pipsqueak, this just happens sometimes when somebody startles him like that, he’d have told you off before now if he minded it, I promise,” Slider calmed and Mav nodded, swallowing thickly and crossing his arms over his chest in an unsure manner.
“Ice, buddy, it’s alright,” Slider returned his attention to his pilot. Ice’s breathing began to steady and he took a deep breath.
“I’m fine,” he shook his head, letting loose some of the tension in his shoulders, “Shit, sorry Mav.”
“I’m sorry, Ice,” Mav shook his head.
“No, it’s not your fault,” Ice waved a hand, “You didn’t know, I’m fine, everything’s fine now.”
Suffice it to say, Mav learned to make sure Ice was facing him before he laid a hand on him from that day forward.
Some people might assume that the Iceman was just as cold and distant as his callsign made him out to be based on his behavior with his friends, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When Ice was a few drinks in and feeling good, when he was sleepy and warm, when he felt comfortable, his affection could be seen in the physical.
That didn’t mean it wasn’t always there, even on days when he couldn’t stand somebody’s hands on him. He wasn’t cold, distant, or heartless, he just displayed his care for people in different ways. And those who cared enough to know the difference were those he kept close. So that was all that mattered in the end. His friends and family knew he cared deeply. To hell with everybody else.