Chapter Text
November 1998
“Do you love him?”
Ice sat back in his chair and stared at Maverick. They were both shirtless, wearing only their previously discarded trousers from the night before, and were sitting at Mav’s kitchen table. The first light of dawn was just beginning to peek through the window, although the overhead light had been switched on for hours. On the table between them, next to their long-emptied coffee mugs, sat two items; a card bearing a phone number, and a gun.
Tom Kazansky had just heard the most fantastical tale of spies and disguises, double identities and secret missions, and he was finding it hard to process. It didn’t sound real, like something out of the movies… not his life, not Mav’s. So instead he focussed on the one thing he could make sense of. The way Maverick’s eyes lit up and his cheeks flushed whenever he spoke about the man who had jumped out of the window merely hours before. Simon. A man who was, apparently, Ice’s brother.
He couldn’t quite believe that he had a brother! In fact, of all the incredible things that he’d learnt that day, his having a brother should’ve been the least surprising, given that he’d had vague memories of him as a child. His old Top Gun buddy and wingman Maverick Mitchell having a secret life as a spy should’ve taken the top spot but no, he had a brother. A real, flesh and blood, actual brother. Ice still hadn’t fully absorbed the news.
Maverick, for his part, seemed unusually understanding about the fact that Ice was having trouble accepting all that he was being told, and replied calmly, with a smile.
“Do I love him? I’ve only met him twice, Ice.”
“That’s not an answer.” Ice answered gruffly.
Maverick laughed. “It’s hardly the most important part of the story, is it? Don’t you have questions?”
Ice thought about all of the questions that had been crowding into his head ever since Maverick had begun his tale. Questions like ‘What the fuck?’ and ‘Are you insane?’ and ‘You’re joking, right?’.
“Sure,” he said, “I have questions. Are you putting yourself in danger?”
Mav shrugged. “Often. But so are you.” He wagged his finger, “Naval Aviator.”
That was fair enough. Ice had to admit he had him there. He let out a deep breath and ran some of the information through in his head. Maverick waited patiently for him in silence. Eventually he settled on another, he hoped, sensible question.
“So why ‘Ethan’?” he said with a weary shake of his head. “Was one callsign not enough?”
Maverick smiled a little sadly. “I didn’t choose it. It was assigned to me when I joined. I like it though, ‘Ethan Hunt’ - sounds like an action hero!”
Ice shook his head again and tugged a hand through his hair. There was none of the reckless thrill seeking that he associated with his former wingman present in the man before him. It was as though something in Maverick had been calmed, brought into focus and harnessed towards a greater cause. It suited him… he looked good. Not that he hadn’t always.
“Go on.” Mav said softly, “Ask me.”
“Why did you sleep with me?”
The question left Ice’s lips as barely a whisper. Maverick met his gaze steadily.
“You looked like you needed it.”
Ice let out a long, shuddering breath. “Really?” He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. “Is that the only reason?”
Maverick’s green eyes fixed him with a stern stare which might’ve been intimidating had the corners of his mouth not been twitching into a smirk. The thought that Maverick might be capable of being intimidating at all was enough to set Ice’s head spinning, and yet Mav continued to stare him down.
“What are you asking Kazansky?”
Ice thought about starting an argument, for old times sake, but found that he no longer possessed the energy. If Mav had been imagining his brother in Ice’s place when they’d slept together then that was his business. Wanting more would be little more than selfish, and reckless, on Ice’s part. He didn’t dare allow himself to imagine the alternative.
“No… it doesn’t matter, you’re right. I knew it was a one time deal last night…” he sighed. “Nothing’s changed.”
Maverick nodded and then clapped Ice on the shoulder with a sudden burst of energy. “You’ll find someone Ice, I know you will.”
He stood and stretched. The shadows cast from the overhead light emphasised the rippling planes of his unprecedentedly muscular frame. Ice tore his eyes away with practiced self-discipline.
“Perhaps…” He said as a platitude more than in agreement, “What now?”
“Now we go back to our lives.” Maverick shrugged and tucked his absurdly long hair behind his ear. “You go back to work, climb the ranks, be the best and don’t mention the name ‘Ethan Hunt’ or the ‘IMF’ ever again. And I go back to doing what needs doing. Simple.”
He grinned.
“Will you keep in touch?” Ice asked plainly and Mav’s face fell.
“Even just telling you what I told you tonight puts you in a certain amount of danger Ice.” He said solemnly, “I can add you to the system here…” he gestured around him, “this is a safe house so if shit ever hits the fan you can come here… if you want?”
Ice crossed his arms and found his confidence - or, at least, enough of it to bleed into his voice.
“I’m not worried about myself, Mav. You’re my friend. I want to know you’re alright… y’know, from time to time.”
At least Maverick had the decency to look guilty.
“Yeah…” he said with a small smile. “Yeah, I could do that.”
Ice nodded in acknowledgement.
“Good.”