Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s mid-December, and the city streets are slick with frost as Maverick lugs his overstuffed duffel the 3 blocks from the subway station to the address he’s spent the last few months scoring into his memory. With every scribbled iteration on the backs of postcards and corners of envelopes, it wasn’t long before it was irremovable. 

New York is a stranger to him—everything so bright and alive, even as winter begins to set in. The atmosphere of the place is so overwhelming that despite his exhilaration, Maverick is forced to pull the hood of his jacket up over his ears and try his best not to stare at the lights as he keeps his focus on his destination. 

He barely notices as he passes huge skyscrapers, his eyes behind half-frozen eyelashes too purposefully focused on every crack in the sidewalk. He walks in silence for another block until he realises he’s reached the building, and dares to look up.

The vertigo that hits him is like nothing he’s felt before. He’d known somewhere in the back of his mind about this place, fifth avenue—seen it in travel brochures and glamorous tv shows. Somehow each time he had written it down, he hadn’t quite put the images together in his mind.

Every building along the avenue is towering, all shining glass and sparkling lights. Maverick is dazzled for a long moment, a deer in headlights. He’s been to cities before, but nothing could have prepared him for this. It’s breathtaking, mesmerising. 

He steels himself, returning his gaze to the ground and steadying his shaking limbs. The three steps up to the door are a personal Everest—his initial excitement at the prospect of this visit giving way to a spiral- had this been a good idea? Will he even be welcome?

It’s stupid, of course. He knows it is. There had been no lack of clarity in the letters he’d received. If he was ever in town—he knew where to go. It had been a light suggestion, an unlikelihood at first. Maverick had had no intention of ending up in Manhattan, now or ever. But as fate (and the Navy) would have it, this was where he found himself.

Clearing his throat weakly, trying not to think about how fast his heart is pounding against his ribcage, he dials the intercom to the apartment number and waits, blowing hot breath into his palms and dancing on his heels in an effort to suppress the shivers that run through him.

There’s a ringing and then a click—the intercom being picked up. He breathes a sigh of relief, having not called ahead to check if the man on the other end was even home. He’d wanted it to be a surprise, after all, albeit a poorly conceived one.

A familiar voice on the other end crackles through the speaker. “Who is it?” 

“Delivery” Maverick replies, doing his best to lower and disguise his voice, and also not to laugh. 

Apparently his reason is accepted, because almost immediately and without further questions the speaker cuts out and there’s a loud buzz as the door clicks open, and Maverick lets himself inside.

He takes the stairs, needing time to collect himself before he reaches the door. It doesn’t take long for him to regret that decision, reaching the 6th floor and realising he still has 12 to go. The shoulder strap of his duffel digs in, but he’s determined to press on. He flies jets for a living, for Christ's sake. He will not let himself be defeated by a staircase. 

After a brief pause to catch his breath once he reaches the 18th floor, he continues down the corridor ahead until he reaches the door, pausing again, thinking on his last chance to go back on this decision. 

He knocks before he can talk himself out of it—he’d always been one to take advantage of his impulsivity, it can, after all, be useful at times. There’s a few seconds of the most deafening silence Maverick thinks he’s ever not heard, and then the sound of footsteps approaching the door, and the lock being undone. No backing out now. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Maverick can’t even try to hold back the grin on his face as the door pulls back and there, clad in a button down shirt and uniform trousers, clearly recently returned from work, is Iceman. 

It’s been three years since they last met face to face, and though Maverick cherished every letter they’d exchanged in that time, nothing really compared to the real thing. There was something about Ice, maybe the spark in his crystal-blue eyes, or the subtle smirk he put on whenever was waiting his turn to make a debate-winning retort, but there was something electric about the man. Just being around him was a high Maverick had never found anywhere else, though flying came close to it. 

Ice looks exhausted, his spiked up hair half-flattened by wind and snow, but his eyes light up as he takes in the scene before him. 

“Maverick? What the hell are you doing here, man, aren’t you supposed to be in the middle of the Atlantic right now?”

Maverick’s grin shines in full force. “Technically speaking, that’s classified. And also technically speaking, I have a full day of freedom tomorrow. Ship’s docked not far from here, and I was hoping I could maybe… stay with you?”

The other man is taken aback slightly, but clearly more in shock than disappointment. Maverick doesn’t blame the man, it’s not every day you see someone after three years apart, much less your wingman. Ice takes a second to gather himself before responding,

“Of course, Mav. You know you’re always welcome here. Shit, get in here, you must be freezing. I’ve just put the heater on, sorry, I actually only just got in.” 

“Chill out, Iceman,” Ice scowls at Maverick’s choice of wording- though there’s a quiet fondness behind it that does not go unnoticed by Mav— “I’m alright. You did literally just agree to let me freeload here, I’m not about to complain.”

Ice smiles and beckons Maverick inside what must be the living room. The first thing that strikes Maverick about the place is the windows. They’re nearly floor to ceiling, and the view outside is striking. A ways away, a thousand tiny lights shine in windows and reflections. Before that, though, is a vast expanse of dark green, split by paths and waterways. From the ground, walking past it, Maverick hadn’t really processed the scale, but now he sees Central Park in its full glory. 

It’s breathtaking, and he finds himself lost in the view until Ice offers to take his bag. “You can take the bed—place is supposed to have two bedrooms but I ended up turning the second one into an office.” 

This is when the second thing strikes Maverick. The walls in the living room are stacked with boxes, and the room itself seems to be missing some furniture. “I should take the couch, it’s your bed. I’m alright, I promise.” 

“Nonsense, Mav. You’re a guest, I want you to be comfortable. Besides, I like the view out here.” Ice starts walking down the hall with Maverick’s navy-issue duffel bag, and it seems the discussion is over. Knowing better than to attempt to convince Iceman out of a decision he’s already made, Maverick follows, hanging up his snow-soaked jacket on the coatrack as he passes by. 

Maverick leans on the doorway as Ice deposits the bag at the foot of the bed and does the rounds of the room, gathering his own belongings (though there are few, Maverick notices) in his hands and taking them back out into the living room. The small collection of a glasses case, a notebook, and some paperwork makes its way onto a side table next to the couch, one of very few actual pieces of furniture in the space. The two men then settle on the couch—they have a lot of catching up to do. 

“Ice, when you wrote to me saying you bought a place a few months ago, I kinda figured you’d have actually moved into it by now.”

“I know, it’s a mess. I’ve just been so busy since getting promoted, and this role- I’ve honestly spent half that time overseas and the other half working here in the city, so I usually just crash as soon as I’m in the door. Haven’t had chance to properly unpack yet—not that I really have much to unpack. Most of the boxes are books, and a few things I still had around from my parent’s place.” 

Maverick nods—they’re used to moving around, not keeping many belongings. It makes sense that Ice hasn’t readjusted to having a stable home base, having spent so long split between assignment housing and cramped dorm rooms. “How’s the job treating you then?”

Ice shrugs. “I love what I do. I’m good at it, and the people I’ve been working with are incredible. I don’t get to fly as much as I’d like, but you know how it is with promotions in our line of work. The more responsibility, the further they take you from the action.”

“It’s a good thing I’ll never let them promote me behind a desk. I’ll be in the air as long as I humanly can.”

Ice laughs gently, “I’d take that bet.”

“You, though.” Maverick points animatedly at his wingman, “Mr Commander Iceman, you are gonna go further than all of us.  I’ll just have to get enough hours up there for the both of us.” 

“They’ll have to hold me back from joining you up there. I’d hate to retire without knowing which one of us is the better pilot, once and for all.”

“Well, it seems we have an agreement. You can stay on the ground and be the youngest admiral the navy’s ever seen, and whenever you need to, whenever you give the order, you’ll be right back on my wing again. I guess for now you’ll just have to live vicariously through me and my tales of valour.”

Ice rolls his eyes fondly. “Of which I’m sure you have plenty you never mentioned in your letters.”

“Oh, you have no idea—”

They stay this way for a long time, recounting so many things they’ve missed and forgotten to tell the other about. It’s comfortable, familiar. Three years apart hasn’t changed a thing between them, same old Maverick and Iceman. 

Eventually Maverick yawns loudly and Ice takes the cue to shoo him off to bed, making sure he’s settled before heading back to the couch.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Maverick’s sleep is mercifully dreamless, and it’s a long time until he wakes, stretching and giving himself time to adjust. It’s been a hot minute since he’s slept in a real bed, and God, did he miss it. He’s used to bunks, used to handling whatever discomforts the navy saddles him with, but it’s always nice to catch a little proper respite when he can.

He drags himself from the bed at what his watch tells him is a little before 7am. 

Carefully, so as not to disturb Ice, he opens the bedroom door and steps out into the hall. A muted blue light filters down the hall, coming from the windows in the main area. Maverick follows it, and finds Ice already sat up, taking slow sips from a mug as the smell of fresh coffee fills the space. Ice turns as he hears Maverick enter, and speaks softly, “I made coffee—mugs are in the cabinet above the pot.”

Maverick shuffles into the kitchen, a small area adjoining the living room, a half-wall separating the two rooms. He grabs a mug from the cabinet and pours himself a generous amount of coffee, then heads to where Ice has already shuffled over on the couch to let him sit. 

The two men stay quiet, watching as the hue of the city shifts with the sunrise. 

After a while, Ice clears his throat, “I called off my meetings today. Let me show you the city?”

“You? Called off meetings?”

“They can wait. This is more important.” Ice’s true words go unsaid. You’re more important.

Maverick smiles. “Okay. Lead on, Iceman. Where to first?” 

“First, breakfast.”

“I can get behind that idea.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Once they’re both wrapped up warm and have everything they need to stay that way, Ice grabs his camera from by the door and they head out into the city. Ice leads them to a spot he knows a few blocks away and the pair make their orders. 

The cafe is cramped, but in a way that makes it feel comfortable. Maverick immediately understands why Ice likes it here, with its framed pictures of the city and muted green walls. The street outside is bustling, but from inside you wouldn’t even notice it. 

They find a table tucked in a quiet corner and talk over wildly differing orders, Maverick going for a black coffee and a breakfast burrito, and Ice for a mocha and french toast. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have taken you for a sweet tooth, Ice.” Maverick reasons out loud as they eat. “I don’t think I’ve even seen you eat something sweet before.”

“Mav, you’ve only seen me eat at Navy canteens before.” Ice laughs lightly, “There’s not exactly much choice of delicacies there.”

Maverick concedes Ice’s point. “I guess I’m just used to it. Doesn’t help that I’m not exactly an incredible chef when I’m on leave.”

“I’m used to it too—but I’ll admit, when I’m on leave and especially since I’ve had my own place, I have a tendency to treat myself. Making up for all the canteen meals, probably.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After their breakfast, the two pilots head out into the city. There’s a biting chill on the wind, the kind that blows right through you, no matter how many layers you pile on. They’re undeterred, and find themselves wandering the streets, occasionally stopping to glance in shop windows or up at tall buildings, or for Ice to take a photo of whatever catches his eye. 

They talk all the while, catching up on anything and everything, and as Ice launches into a vivid summary of a book he’d read—some non-fiction anthology about oceanography. Maverick can’t help but gaze at him as he talks. Ice, underneath all the sharpened professionalism and brave faces, is something to behold. 

Though they’ve communicated almost constantly these last three years since their last station together, through frequent letters and less frequent phone calls, it’s another thing entirely to be here in person. 

It’s the first time Maverick has truly seen Ice outside of work, and it’s the most incredible feeling. Like anything is possible. Like the whole world around them doesn’t matter, because here they are, together. 

Trailing through frozen streets, they eventually wind up in a quiet spot overlooking the East River. It’s been a few hours since breakfast, and they’re both near dead on their feet. The cold is beginning to get to Maverick, though Ice doesn’t seem too bothered. His light coat and thick scarf keep him warm, though even then he’s unnaturally impervious to the cold. Figures, given the name.

Maverick sports his signature jacket. It’s done him well in winters in Virginia with Carole and Bradley, but winter in New York is another story. 

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Ice quirks his head to a slight angle. 

“You’re not cold, right?”

“Not really. I run cold, always have. Besides, I spent a lot of winters here growing up.”

“You have family out here?”

“A few cousins, some old friends. My mom was born here, my dad moved here when he was young. My parents left for California not long before I was born, but we’d come back for holidays and reunions.”

“Must be nice to be back here.”

“Yeah, it is.” Ice stares out over the water, thinking. “You know, I never thought of this place as my home. It was home, in a way, because I spent so much time here. But it was always more like someone else’s home, my Bubbie, or my Aunts and Uncles. Home, but not my home. Does that make sense?”

“I get it. I guess that’s what Carole and Goose’s place was always like for me. Still is.” He pauses. It’s been five years since Goose died, but it’ll never be something the pair bring up in casual conversation. “I’ve always felt like I belonged there, but never like it was my place.” He doesn’t mention that he’s never really had a place, but Ice knows. “It’s always been theirs.”

“That’s how I always felt about the city. But living here is different—home is still California, but I think New York is aswell now. I don’t know if I’ll stay here forever, but it’s where I see myself for now. It’s a good feeling.” 

Maverick nods and then shivers, unable to mask it. Without a word, Ice begins to remove his scarf, offering it to the other man. 

“It’s fine, you keep it.”

“You’re cold, Mav. Take the damn scarf.”

“It’s your scarf! I don’t want you to be cold either.”

“I won’t be. And I also won’t lose my wingman to hypothermia anytime soon if I have any say in the matter. Take the scarf, Mitchell. That’s an order.” 

Maverick laughs, but yields. “Should’ve known the promotion would get to your head.” He jests as Ice wraps the scarf around him. 

Rolling his eyes playfully, Ice stands, starting to walk off. “Wait here—I’ll be right back.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Hands safely tucked away in his pockets and Ice’s scarf around him, Maverick waits. The river flows, carrying debris out into the North Atlantic. It’s beautiful, in its own way, pollution and all. 

Maverick stands and leans over the railing. The sound of the water from this close almost drowns out the city, and he doesn’t notice Ice’s return until his wingman is right beside him. 

He’s carrying two drinks in a cup holder and a bag of something that smells amazing. Maverick hadn’t even realised how hungry he’d been, though he reasons it must be past midday by now. 

Ice reaches into the bag and passes Mav a sandwich, still warm through the thick paper it’s wrapped in. 

They watch the water go past together as they eat, and it’s the best meal Maverick can remember. He thinks about asking how Ice knew what to get him, but decides against it. It’s just something they do now, even after so long apart. 

Ice knows him better than almost anyone in the world, and it scares him—but it’s a good kind of fear, more like anticipation. The kind of fear you feel before diving into a cold lake. The kind Pete had felt a decade ago, right before the first time he’d flown. 

When they’ve both finished, they stay watching the river for a while longer. Maverick gets lost in the ripples swirling below them until a click sounds next to him. He turns sharply and sees Ice holding up his camera. “Getting my good side, Kazansky?”

“Not sure you have a bad side, Mitchell.” Ice sounds almost nervous, but passes it off coolly. He’s still looking at Maverick through his viewfinder. 

“You’re too kind, Iceman. And correct, of course.” He flashes his signature grin at his wingman. 

“So humble. It’s truly inspiring.” 

Maverick grumbles something under his breath and Ice just smiles back at him, simple and sweet. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s nearly dusk when they reach their destination, the fleeting winter day fading into night in the early afternoon. The park is beautiful, lit by streetlamps and the glowing backdrop of the city. 

A layer of snow from the night before lingers on the grass and trees, and water droplets are forming the beginnings of icicles on railings. Everything feels so still, despite the bustle of people and the city surrounding them on all sides. 

Ice grabs Mav’s arm in excitement as he spots what he was looking for. Maverick’s eyes light up too when he realises where Ice has brought them. It’s a large ice rink, full of people stumbling around on skates and holding onto each other for balance. 

“You ever skated before?” Ice asks as they wait in the queue.

“Once. Goose dragged me to an indoor rink back in Pensacola, when we were stuck there for the winter. Said we had to have a ‘real christmas’ because he was sick and tired of how hot it was all the time out there. I think he was really just missing Carole.” Maverick stares at the ground. “Cheered him up watching me fall on my ass, though.”

Ice chuckles. “I used to come here every year with my parents, and then eventually with Sarah.”

“She an old flame of yours?” This question warrants a laugh from Ice. 

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that. We were together for a while, but mostly just because our parents knew each other, so it was logical for both of us. We were always happier as friends—and after I left the Academy and got deployed anywhere and everywhere, that’s what we went back to.”

“She still lives out here then?” 

“She’s in Baltimore—doing her surgical residency. I’ll introduce you guys if you’re ever in town at the same time, you’d get along like a house on fire. Though, I still regret introducing her to Slider- those two combining forces against me was one of the few times my foresight truly failed me.” The way he says it makes it clear he’s joking, and he has a fond glimmer in his eyes. 

By this point they’ve reached the entrance, and after acquiring skates, they step out onto the ice together. 

Mav stumbles a few times, but manages to keep himself from falling, staying close to the railing as they make their way around.

Ice, on the other hand, skates with practiced grace. The way he moves is elegant, like a dancer. Maverick is so transfixed that he fails to notice they’re reaching a corner, slamming directly into the railing in front of him. 

He’s barely had time to stumble backwards before Ice has grabbed his hand, steadying them and stopping Maverick from falling. “Steady—here, I’ll show you how.” 

And so Ice does, explaining how to keep your balance, showing him the right way to move to control his speed and direction. Maverick is still gripping onto Ice’s hand for dear life, but no one around them seems to care. It’d be dangerous for them anywhere else, but here, they’re just two faces in a crowd. No scrutiny, no danger. It’s a feeling of freedom Maverick hasn’t felt since joining the Navy. 

He’d known he was queer long before he enlisted. It was always there, always part of his life. The Navy had made it something to hide, so he had hidden it. He hated it, but knew it was the only way to keep flying, to go where he wanted to go. 

And Ice is his friend, someone he trusts, someone he cares about. Anywhere else, and he’d be putting both their careers in danger just by the simple act of holding his hand. That isn’t a risk he’d ever be willing to take—but it isn’t a risk here, and it’s like learning to breathe all over again. 

Maverick has never asked, and never told. He wonders sometimes how many in their line of work are like him. He’s met a few, but knows there are still more. He wonders sometimes if it’ll ever be different for them. 

He’s thought about telling Ice. He knows deep down that Ice would never turn him away because of who he is, who he loves. But he’s grown so accustomed to skirting around it, it just never felt like the right time. And Ice doesn’t deserve to have his reputation marred if it was ever discovered he helped keep Mav’s secret. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into it. 

They’re speeding up now, and it makes Maverick uneasy for a moment, still unsteady on his skates. But it turns out that’s what it takes to give him confidence—and he knows Ice knew as much. The cold air buffets his face as they weave in and out of other skaters, and he can’t help the wide smile that adorns his face, noticing the same expression on Ice’s face as he looks over at him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When they’re both bone-tired and freezing through their gloves, they decide to head back to Ice’s place. There’s a quiet sadness over both of them as they walk, knowing Maverick ships out again the next morning. 

“One day, remind me to take you to the Empire State. I’ll show you the city from up there.” 

“That a promise, Iceman?” 

“Yeah, Maverick. That’s a promise.”

Ice makes them dinner when they get back, a simple pasta dish that’s somehow better than any Mav has ever tasted. Maverick packs his bag ready for the morning. His cab out of the city will be early tomorrow, and being late back to the ship isn’t an option.

Once he’s packed, the pair lounge on Ice’s couch. 

They’re exhausted from the day but not quite ready to part. It’s this way that they fall asleep, curled up next to each as the moonlight covers the living room in a pale glow. 

They wake early to the sky lightening outside and say their goodbyes on the steps up to the building. There’s an awful feeling in Mav’s chest as he watches the cab pull in, turning round once more to drag Ice into a farewell hug. It takes Maverick back to the day on the carrier, salt air in his lungs and adrenaline coursing through every inch of him. The day they’d lain down their rivalry, choosing to make something better. It’s a decision Maverick will never regret, not for a second. 

And as he climbs into his cab and it pulls away, he can’t help looking back, seeing Ice waving him off from the step. He can’t help hoping it won’t be so long before they see each other again.

Chapter Text

The air is thick in the summer heat as Maverick steps out of the plane. June has come to New York, bringing with it heatwaves, dry spells, and one Lieutenant Commander Pete Mitchell. 

The promotion is still recent, and he’d really done his best to avoid it, but unfortunately the Navy got the final say. It’s not so bad, really. He still gets as many flight hours as he used to, and it comes with the added bonuses of more leave and more pay. So really, a win-win in anyone’s books. 

The extra leave has given him a chance he’s been waiting for the last year and a half—to come back to the city and see his wingman again. They’d flown together a spare few times the previous spring, but he still couldn’t help buzzing with anticipation of having real time to spend together again. 

He hauls his suitcase down the winding corridors of the airport, heading through the arrivals gate and immediately picking Ice out in the crowd. They grin at each other from across the room before speeding up and almost running at each other in their excitement, pulling each other into an all too brief embrace. 

“So, Lieutenant Commander, huh? You coming for my job already?”

“You wish, Iceman. I’m happy where I am, thank you very much. You can take whatever fleets they give you, I still intend to fly planes until I’m old and grey—and even then they’ll have to shoot me down to stop me.” 

“They do let me fly planes too, you know. Maybe less than before, but they’d have to be stupid not to use one of their best pilots.” Ice nudges Mav’s shoulder playfully as they begin to head out of the airport. “Which reminds me—we still need to figure out who the better pilot is. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Maverick rolls his eyes. “Same old Iceman. Come on, don’t ruin the sappy reunion. I know you’ve been planning something. You may have a good poker face, but you’re a terrible liar when you get excited about something.” 

“Fine, I can tell you now anyway. Tonight we’re at my place, and in the morning we’re headed out to Montauk for the weekend—we’ll be back in time for your flight out, don’t worry. You’re gonna love it out there. Besides, it’s too hot to be anywhere but the ocean right now.”

Ice is right, Maverick already knows he’s going to love it. He loves the city, but the idea of living out a heatwave in Manhattan as a born and bred west-coast Californian wasn’t particularly appealing to him. 

After a quiet night in Ice’s apartment, Maverick tossing and turning in the heat despite the AC being on full, they pack up and head out. It turns out Ice had traded in an IOU from a colleague and scored them a beach house for the weekend, about as close to the sand as it’s possible to build.

The place has two bedrooms and the nicest kitchen Maverick has ever seen. The sea air makes it pleasantly cool indoors, even with the blistering heat outdoors. 

They almost immediately get ready to swim, putting on sunscreen and changing into trunks before hurtling out the door in a race to the water. Maverick gets there first, though he suspects the taller man of letting him win. He dives head first into the waves, the cold instantly bringing his melting heatwave brain back into focus. 

As he surfaces, Ice is standing slightly shallower, up to his waist. Maverick seizes the opportunity and splashes water at his wingman, then grabs his hand and drags him deeper into the water as he tries to clear the water from his eyes. 

“Seriously, Mav?” Ice grumbles, spitting salt water. 

Mav flashes him a grin. “We’re here to have fun, aren’t we? Rule number one of the beach: Absolutely no professional behaviour. On pain of death.”

Ice starts grumbling again, but after a pleading look from Maverick it doesn’t take much for him to yield. He splashes Mav back with all his strength and thoroughly drenches him all over again. Maverick only smiles back at him through a mouthful of seawater. “There’s Vacation Ice. Knew he was in there somewhere.” 

They spend what must be hours there, swimming and playing in the ocean like dumb teenagers. 

When they both get hungry and the afternoon sun starts to bear down with fresh intensity, they head back inside. Each of them nurses a little sunburn on their shoulders, and they grab cold drinks and lunch in an effort to curb whatever heat exhaustion they’ve earned themselves. 

Eventually the sun begins to set outside and they head back out onto the sand to sit and watch it dip below the horizon.

After it disappears, they walk along the bay in the dusk for a long time, holding their shoes as they paddle in the shallow waves. They grab hot dogs from a van they find and then head back to the cabin, both thoroughly exhausted as they say goodnight and crash in their rooms.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Maverick wakes to his door opening and brilliant sunlight beaming in. A figure stands in his doorway and a pleasant smell wafts in with the salty air. “Morning, sunshine.” Ice says as Mav groans into his pillow. “I have a surprise for you in a bit—and I made breakfast.”

Mav longs to go back to sleep, but the smell of food is too tempting. He hauls himself out of bed and trails to the kitchen, pulling on a shirt as he goes. Upon claiming a spot on one of the stools at the counter, he’s swiftly presented with a mug of coffee and a plate of waffles and ice cream. “I like Vacation Ice. You should let him hang out more often.” 

Ice laughs into his coffee. “Vacation Ice is the same as Regular Ice, you know.”

“Regular Ice doesn’t do surprises. Or vacations.” Maverick points out. “Am I allowed to ask what the surprise is?”

“That defeats the entire purpose of it being a surprise, Mitchell. But you’ll know soon enough.”

And sure enough, he does. There’s a loud knock at the door and Ice hurries to answer it, greeted with the smiling faces and excited chatter of one Ron Kerner, and a woman Maverick hasn’t met before. 

“Slider, Sarah, you made it! Come on, there’s enough breakfast for everyone.” 

After hurriedly throwing down their bags by the door, they make their way over to where Mav is now standing, waiting to greet them. 

“Mitchell!” Slider booms loudly. It’s always good to see him, but maybe not so much this soon after waking up. “It’s been way too long, man. Glad to see you’re doing good.” He slaps a hand on Mav’s shoulder, thoroughly jarring the still sleepy pilot as he pulls him into a bear hug. “It’s good to see you too, Slider.” Maverick gets out with the air that remains in his semi-crushed lungs. 

Another voice sounds as Slider releases him. “So, you’re the infamous Maverick, huh. I thought you’d be taller.” 

“And you’re Sarah, I take it. You know, I’ve heard that line before more times than I can count.” 

“You’ll hear it again, I bet. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Tommy told me all about you, practically talked my ear off more than a few times.” 

Ice is glaring at Sarah with a look that could cut diamonds, but she just smiles and pulls Maverick into a hug. He can’t help but smile too. 

“Tom, I can’t believe it took you this long to introduce us.”

“We’re all busy people, Sarah. It’s harder than you’d think to get three Naval Officers and a surgical trainee together on the same day.” 

Sarah sticks her tongue out at him playfully as they sit down at the small dining table together. Maverick transfers his and Ice’s plates and mugs from the counter as Ice sets about dishing out food for their friends. 

When they’re finished they head down to the beach one again, this time joined by the two newcomers. Slider sets out a picnic blanket he’d dug out of a cupboard in the beach house and digs a parasol into the sand. Sarah is immediately buried in a textbook, waving the other three off to swim, saying she’ll join them later. “Brain surgery doesn’t take vacations, boys.” 

They decide to find a beach ball and play whatever games they can come up with, electing to swim when Sarah is done studying. When they’re all thoroughly exhausted and entirely too hot, they finally persuade her to join them in the sea. 

Ice gets out of the water after a while, sitting under the parasol reading his book. He puts the book down carefully when Maverick comes to join him, and the two watch as Slider and Sarah splash around. Their laughter can be heard from the shore as Slider scoops Sarah up and spins her around, causing the pair of them to topple over and hit the water. Maverick notices Ice smiling over at them. “So, what’s their deal?” Mav asks.

“I’m not sure they even know.” Ice answers fondly. “They’ve been like this ever since I introduced them, not long after Slider and I met.”

Maverick nods. “Seems like they make each other happy.”

“You have no idea. I’ve never seen Slider the way he is around her. They’re both too scared to say anything, but I think they’ll figure it out.” 

Slider and Sarah eventually join them on the beach again, and the rest of the day passes faster than Maverick can process it. So much of it is spent laughing and joking that by the time they return to the house for the night, he’s lightheaded and his heart feels like it’s glowing. 

Ice is relishing in his many successive victories at low-stakes poker when Slider yawns loudly and announces that it’s bedtime. “It’s always your bedtime, Slider. You’d sleep through your own wedding if no one was around to wake you.” Maverick pipes up. 

“He’d have to persuade someone to marry him first.” Ice adds, a sly smile crossing his face. “He’s right though, we should get some sleep. Sarah, you take my room. Me and Slider can take the couches.”

“Nonsense, our Ronnie’s too tall for them couches anyways—he can share with me. I’ve shared a tent with him before, this can’t be much worse. And I’m sure Maverick here won’t mind letting you share with him, right Mav?” She bats her eyelashes playfully.

Ice looks over at his RIO, raising an eyebrow with fierce intensity. Ronnie? Sharing a tent? Slider blushes, passing it off with a shrug. 

“Fine. Mav, that alright?” Asks Ice. 

Maverick has zoned out a little, turning over a dime he’d won in their poker game between two fingers. “Sure, yeah. I don’t mind as long as you’re not gonna hog the covers. I know how cold you get, Icecube.” 

Slider returns Ice’s raised eyebrow and mouths over at him, “Icecube ? Seriously?” to which Ice simply feigns failure to lipread and ignores him. 

“Alright then, it’s settled. We’ll see you guys in the morning.” 

“Night, Sarah. Don’t come knocking on our door when Slider’s snoring keeps you awake.”

“I could say the same for you and Maverick.”

This alerts Maverick. “Hey! I don’t even snore that loud.” 

Ice snorts through his nose. “Yes you do, Mitchell. It’s fine, I’ll live.” He heads off to grab his things from his room, now Sarah and Slider’s room. 

Maverick decides to take a shower, the sand in his hair beginning to get annoying. When he’s done he heads to the room with a towel around his waist. Ice is on one side of the bed, buried once again in his book. Ice speaks softly when he notices Mav in the doorway. “Hey. You alright on that side?” 

Mav hums a ‘yes’ and digs around for a pair of boxers. He’s been in locker rooms with Ice plenty of times, but this is a little different. It’s one thing changing in the same room as 8 other pilots, and entirely another in front of one. 

“Maverick, just put them on. I won’t look, I swear.” Ice has evidently noticed him deliberating on what to do. He closes his book and turns over, facing away. “You know, you’re awful shy sometimes for a guy who parades around like you do.” 

Mav responds by throwing his towel at Ice’s head. “That’s different.” And it is, but Ice isn’t wrong. Certain situations have a tendency to push Maverick into a shell he doesn’t normally appear to have. When he’s finished changing, he climbs into the bed “Shove over, I wanna sleep.” Mav nudges Ice as he crawls under the thin summer sheet. 

“I’m already shoved over, Mav. That’s all the space you’re getting.”

“Fine. Just don’t steal the covers.”

“Mitchell, it’s about a thousand degrees outside and you know the cold doesn’t really bother me. They’re all yours.” 

It’s a while before Maverick begins to drift off, the muggy air making it difficult at best. It doesn’t help that he can somehow hear Slider snoring through the wall. He watches Ice’s chest rise and fall, the other man still facing away from him. “Goodnight, Mav.” He hears.

“Night, Ice.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

He stirs a few times in the night, each time only for a few seconds before he slips away into unconsciousness again. He might dream, but if he does, he can’t remember it. 

On one occasion he wakes, feeling a cold shape pressed against him. Then he realises it’s his wingman. It should make him panic, but he’s too distracted by how cold Ice is compared to the uncomfortable heat of the air around them. He quickly slips back into unconsciousness. 

When he finally stirs enough to stay awake a little longer, there’s sunlight coming through the cracks in the blinds. He finds himself quite thoroughly wrapped around Ice. As he tries to figure out how exactly he’s going to untangle himself without waking his wingman, he hears Ice clear his throat. “Shush, Mav. S’too early for you to be thinking that loud.” He grumbles, sleep still thick in his voice. 

“I’m not even making any noise!” Maverick makes his best attempt to keep to a whisper. 

“Go back to sleep, Mitchell.” 

Maverick thinks about complaining, but he’s still exhausted from the last two days. He allows himself to fall asleep a final time. He tries very hard not to notice when Ice pulls him in closer still. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sarah knocks on their door a little after 10am and they practically jump apart at the sound. She opens the door to announce that she and Slider are going to go get breakfast, and that if they want to join them they had better get up soon. They grumble, but oblige. They’re both far more hungry than annoyed after sleeping for so long. Maverick could swear he hears Sarah giggle as she closes the door on her way out. 

They traipse out into the living room to find Slider waiting for them. A few seconds later Sarah appears from their room and the four of them set about walking into town to find something to eat. 

It’s not long before they find a place, a small diner nestled in amongst shops selling sandcastle buckets and about a dozen seafood restaurants. They eat in silence, all too tired to think about anything else. When they’re done, Sarah is the one to break the silence. “So, you boys slept alright?”

They murmur their assent. “It wasn’t so bad. What about you and Slider?”

“Ronnie’s like a human furnace, but I cracked a window, so it wasn’t so bad. What do you guys wanna do today?” She asks.

“Well, Mav’s flight out is tomorrow, so whatever we do, it’s our last full day. You and Slider are free to stick around for a while longer if you want, my buddy who lent us the place said we can have it all week.” 

“I think we might just take you up on that, right Slider?” She nudges him.

“Sure, I don’t have anywhere to be for a bit. Sar, you’re not headed back to Baltimore yet, right?”

Sarah shakes her head. “Nope, I’ve got a whole week of freedom. I’ll have to keep on top of studying, though.”

Ice nods. “Then it’s agreed. I think I want to show Mav the lighthouse before we leave—we’ll be a couple hours, but we can all hang out in the evening? Maybe do a barbeque or something?”

Slider gains an excited glint in his eye. “Oh, absolutely. I’ll take care of it, you guys go have fun.” 

With that, Ice and Maverick start walking back to the house, stopping by to grab a few things to take with them. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The walk to the lighthouse is a short one, and they’re both grateful for that in the growing warmth of the mid-morning. They pay their entry fee to the museum and walk the rooms, stopping to read every plaque. 

Many of the maritime exhibits catch their eyes, and they stand together, taking them in. It's another side to how people use the ocean, one they don’t often get to see on military deployments. 

Once they’ve looked at everything, they head up the winding steps to look out from the gallery. 

The view is breathtaking. In any direction, they can see for miles, out over Long Island and the Atlantic. They’re transfixed. The two men stay side by side for a long time, leaning on the railing. Their arms press together as they breathe in the salty air. 

“It’s beautiful.” Maverick says after a while. 

Ice agrees. “Yeah. I’ve always loved it up here. It’s like another world” He raises his camera to capture the moment.

“Thank you for showing me this.” And with that, they fall back into silence. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Maverick isn’t immune to the temptation of the gift shop, and winds up getting hold of a tacky pen for himself on their way out. He secretly buys a compass for Ice, making sure he’s not caught. Ice finds himself some fridge magnets for the collection he’s apparently recently decided to start. 

They wander back to the house sometime late in the afternoon, sun-soaked and content. 

Slider is evidently just setting up to start barbecuing, and the smell lures both of them out onto the deck at the back of the house. “Hey, you guys made it just in time. We tried to wait for you, but hunger waits for no men.” 

Ice laughs and collapses into the swinging chair across the yard. Maverick heads back in to deposit his bag, making sure its contents remain secret, then joins him there. 

The afternoon heat is fading, overtaken by a light mist that rolls in off the waves. It’s just the right atmosphere to relax outside. When they’ve all eaten their fill, Slider brings out marshmallows and they make smores over the embers.

Later, Slider and Sarah are curled up in the grass, and Slider is going on and on telling jokes only the two of them seem to find funny. 

Maverick is starting to get sleepy, the muted summer heat getting to his head. He drifts off, and after an undeterminable amount of time he wakes to Slider and Sarah announcing their departure and heading to bed. 

He hears a quiet voice from just above him. In his sleep, it seems he’s ended up lying down, his head on Ice’s lap. “Hey, Mav? Earth to Lieutenant Commander Mitchell?” 

“Mm?” He responds, still half asleep. 

“It’s a little past your bedtime, I’d say.”

Mav’s only response is to yawn loudly at his wingman. Ice ruffles his hair. “Come on. Time to sleep in a real bed.” 

Ice hauls him up off the seat, letting him lean against him as they walk back to their room. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” Maverick announces, just beginning to process it. He’s not ready to go yet. There’s a pause before Ice responds, “I know.”

“I don’t want to go yet.”

“Me neither.” Ice pauses again, choosing his words. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” And Maverick wants to believe it.

Their job is one with risks—injury and death, God knows what else. Maverick has experienced plenty. But one of the hardest parts has always been the separation of it all, not seeing the people you love for so long. 

People you love . 

And of course, Ice is one of them. He hasn’t thought about it before, hasn’t had to. It’s one of those things that goes without saying. Ice is someone he loves. And they’ll see each other again, as soon as they can. 

“Hey, Ice?” Mav says as Ice lowers him onto the bed.

“Yeah?”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Ice goes completely still for a long moment. “Yeah, Mav. I know.” 

“Good.” He says through a yawn, “Just wanted to make sure.” 

Maverick is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The morning is too quiet. They only have a few hours before they have to drive back to the city, and neither of them is sure how they want to spend them. The precious few days they got to spend together have gone so fast. 

Their friends drag them down to the beach for one last swim, then they pack up and eat lunch before they head out. After their all too brief goodbyes to Sarah and Slider, they’re back on the road. 

As excited as Maverick is to be heading to Virginia, he wishes he didn’t have to leave so soon. The thought of seeing Carole and Bradley, and of being around on Bradley’s birthday for the first time in a long time, keeps him going. He knows he’ll never have enough time with them, any of them. Not Carole and Bradley, not Ice. But the time they do have is everything to him, it’s the reason he keeps going. Every second is worth the wait. 

They stop by Ice’s apartment on the way, grabbing the last of Mav’s things he’d left behind before they headed to the beach. 

Before leaving, Maverick withdraws the compass from his bag and scribbles a note on a post-it.  “In case you ever need to find me.” On the back he writes, “Don’t miss me too much – Mav” He leaves the compass and note on Ice’s nightstand, folding the post-it into a tiny paper aeroplane before he sets it down. 

In the living room, Ice hands him a rectangular parcel, neatly wrapped in dinosaur-themed paper. “For Bradley. Don’t let him open it before his birthday, okay?” To which Maverick agrees. 

“He’ll love this. Kid’s been on a real paleontology kick this year.” 

They part ways at the airport this time, but the end result is the same. There’s a gaping hole in Mav’s chest as he steps into the security queue, looking over his shoulder to see Ice heading back to his car. It’s fine, he thinks. He’ll be back before he knows it.

Chapter Text

Time passes too fast and too slow all at once. Dozens of letters aren’t enough, never enough when it comes to Ice. Despite their best attempts and falsest promises, the years had gotten away from them. Maverick makes Commander, meanwhile Ice makes Captain and then Rear Admiral. Neither of them manage to secure leave for each other’s celebrations. Even now, Maverick can only stay in the city two nights before he’s called away once more. 

Five years, Mav thinks over and over as he watches clouds pass by the window of his plane. Five years, every one of them dragging on a little more than the last. He wishes more than anything that he could take them all back, get here sooner. The gaping hole in his chest has only expanded. 

He’s overcome with anticipation as he waits for his luggage. It’s not like a few years apart has changed things between them before—why should it now? But it’s never been this long before, and they’ve both been so busy. The letters have begun to dwindle in the time since Ice’s most recent promotion. It’s been months since they even had chance to call. 

Ice is there waiting as he walks through the gates. Maverick could recognise him from a mile off, even with his blond hair now falling to his shoulders. 

“Commander Mitchell, as I live and breathe.” Ice grins, and it’s such a simple thing that threatens to throw Mav completely off-kilter. It’s been so long since he saw that smile anywhere other than the photographs Ice had sent him of them together in Montauk. 

Maverick returns the smile, “Rear Admiral Kazansky, it’s an honour to be in the presence of someone of your command.” He stands as straight as he can and salutes, making Ice roll his eyes. 

They take each other in for a moment, not sure where to begin. Ice figures it out first. “Come here.” He says as he opens his arms. Maverick doesn’t hesitate to return the hug. 

When they pull away Ice’s hand remains on his arm. “It’s been too long.” 

“I know. But we’re here now.” 

With that, they head out to Ice’s car. The drive into the city is a long one, the evening rush hour keeping them at a standstill. Maverick digs through the CDs in the glove box, choosing one he recognises. The two of them belt out Thunder Road as they inch through the Lincoln tunnel.

It’s been twelve years since they met, and in all that time, Mav has never heard Ice sing. He’s never been much of a singer himself, but Ice’s voice holds him spellbound. He can’t help but wonder how much more he has to learn about his wingman. 

They get to the apartment in the early evening, and the sky is already dark when they make their way into the living room. Ice announces that they’re ordering pizza, and Maverick would be crazy to disagree. They’re both tired from the drive and he’s still not gotten a chance to try real New York pizza. 

While they wait, they catch up, curled up on the couch. “You know, I was only half serious about you becoming the youngest admiral in history. You seem to be trying your best to prove me right.”

“Well, I can’t let you be wrong about everything, Mitchell. Someone has to tend to your ego.” 

Maverick shoves him playfully. “I can’t imagine doing what you do. They’re still trying to get me behind a desk, but I met this guy who got me working as a test pilot. You should see some of the prototypes I’ve been flying, Ice. It’s some real sci-fi shit.”

“Sounds right up your alley. I’m happy where I am, honestly. I’m not stuck on the ground, but I don’t get deployed nearly as much as I used to. It’s been nice, having more control, but it’s a lot of work.”

“I bet it is.” Maverick responds, and they trail into a comfortable silence for a time. 

Eventually Ice speaks— “I’ve missed flying with you.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sometime later, after they’ve eaten, Maverick insists on taking the couch this time round. He sleeps soundly, only waking when he hears Ice rummaging around in the kitchen. 

He stretches and heads to join him, wanting to be of use helping with whatever Ice seems to be making for breakfast. 

There’s a vast array of postcards and photos on the door of the fridge, and they stop Mav in his tracks. Photos of Slider, Sarah, some people Mav hasn’t met who look like they could be Ice’s cousins. 

In amongst them all, held up by magnets from Montauk and other places Ice must have visited since, there’s him. Maverick, leaning on a railing above the East River. Maverick, with the wind in his short-cropped hair looking out over Block Island Sound. Maverick, curled up asleep with his head in Ice’s lap. He laughs quietly to himself—Slider must have taken that one, judging by the vengeful look on Ice’s face. 

There’s an older photo of them together on the deck of the Enterprise. It's the same one Maverick keeps a copy of in his wallet. There’s postcards he remembers sending from various ports of call, remembers scrawling this address on the backs. Evidence of his place in Ice’s life, each and every one of them. 

Ice seems to have noticed him looking at them. “I keep them there to remind me.”

“Remind you?” 

“That no matter how far apart we are, I still have people I care about, and who care about me.” 

Maverick isn’t sure what to say, so Ice fills in the gaps for him. “I know I haven’t been the best at keeping in touch. This job asks a lot of me, but I should have tried harder to find the time.”

“Ice, it’s okay. I know you’ve been busy. We both have—it’s no one’s fault.” 

“I know that too. But still, I’m sorry. I want you to know that I never stopped thinking about you, even when I couldn’t reach out. You’re important to me, Mav. That’s never going to change.”

That’s all that needs to be said. Maverick’s gaze stays on the photos, and he notices one of Slider standing with Sarah. Sarah is grinning and holding up a certificate, his arm around her waist. 

“No shit, Sarah finished her residency?”

“A few summers back, yeah. She’s doing her fellowship downtown now, moved back to the city.”

“Her and Slider?” Mav queries. 

Ice nods. “Figured it out. They’ve been going strong since right around the time that was taken.” 

“I’ve missed so much.”

“Be glad of it. They’re even more insufferable than before, somehow. I’ll tell you about it on the way.” 

“The way to where?” 

Ice makes a zipping motion over his mouth, “Wait and see.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Ice remains mysterious about where they’re spending the day even as they get closer. Mav figures it out when they surface from a subway station and he catches sight of it. Towering above them, closer than he’s ever been to it, is the Empire State Building. 

“I’m a man of my word, you know.” Ice jests as they join the back of the queue in the lobby. “I didn’t forget my promise to bring you here someday.” 

“Me neither. This place is incredible, Ice.” 

“Oh, you have no idea—” And with this, Ice sets about rattling off fun facts and architectural information about the building. His enthusiasm is infectious, and it doesn’t take long before Maverick is equally excited. 

From the observation deck, they can see the whole city in all its glory. The grid patterns of the street stretch on and on, and across the rivers from Manhattan they can see for miles in the clear morning light. 

Maverick realises, as he squints down, trying to spot Ice’s apartment building, that there’s no one else he'd rather be here with.

He’s never been good with heights, has always appreciated the irony. But it’s different when you’re flying, it’s nothing like looking down on the world. When he flies, he’s part of the sky, a headstrong tempest. 

Looking down at the city, he feels smaller than he’s ever felt. Yet, for the first time, it doesn’t scare him. He’s a fly on the wall of the wide, wide universe, but that knowledge only confirms what he already suspected—that he’s found his place within it. 

He looks over at the man who he knows will always be at his side. No matter what, he knows they’ll always find their way back to each other. No matter the distance, every road leads back to him. 

He wonders if Goose ever saw this coming—but knows the answer before the thought has even fully formed. He knew, of course he knew. Wise Mother Goose, always three steps ahead when it came to things like this. 

Ice nudges him and beckons him towards one of the sets of coin-operated binoculars that are scattered around the observation deck. Mav looks through where Ice has positioned the view. Through the magnification, he can see the lighthouse they’d visited. It was so many years ago now, but he remembers it like it was yesterday. 

Maverick stares at it for a long time, thinking back to that summer. Eventually, Ice gets his attention once more— “We should go if we want to have lunch soon.” And with that they head back to the elevators, looking out over the city as they go. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

They swing by Ice’s place and throw together a picnic, deciding to make the most of the daylight with the nights getting longer. It doesn’t take long to find a quiet spot in the park to set up a blanket on the grass overlooking the lake. 

They relax after they eat, Ice laying back and opening his book whilst Maverick people-watches. It’s mild despite the season, and the sun on his back seeps through the fabric of his jumper. It’s peaceful, and time trickles away until dusk brings a chill back to the air. 

“We should go out tonight.” Maverick declares once they’ve returned to the apartment. 

Ice looks tired, but intrigued. “Aren’t we a little too old for the nightlife, Mitchell?” 

“You might be, but I’m not,” This earns him a scowl from his wingman, “Come on, I’m sure you know some good places.” 

Which is how they find themselves at an atmospheric live bar in the east village. There’s a small dance floor by the stage, taken up by couples twirling as the band plays covers of old jazz songs. It’s perfect.

They have a light meal in the tabled section of the bar, chatting over breadsticks about everything they’ve missed—which turns out, of course, to be a lot. 

The music beckons Maverick to the dance floor, and he extends a hand to his wingman. He could care less if anyone here has something to say about it. Ice hesitates for a split-second, but it’s clear he wants to say yes even before he takes Mav’s hand. Maverick leads him to the dance floor, and they join the crowd in moving with the rhythm of each song that plays. 

The evening begins to wind down, the tempo of each song dialing down as more people make their way to the dance floor, having finished their meals. 

When one song finishes, the band leads it into a much slower tune. Maverick recognises it from records he heard as a kid.

Ice takes the lead, pulling him closer, impossibly close. They sway to the song, arms around each other. Neither of them are entirely aware of anything around them, save each other and the music. 

It’s late before they get home—after midnight, as far as Maverick can gather. They wind through the city streets in the dark, so close that their shoulders bump against each other almost constantly. It takes all of Mav’s willpower not to reach for Ice’s hand. 

Ice looks like he wants to say something as he stands in the doorway of his bedroom, but can’t quite find the right words. Instead, he simply says goodnight. 

Parting is no easier than it ever was, and the looming structure of the airport the next day consigns them to yet more time apart. 

They share a long hug, neither wanting to let go. 

Maverick had hoped that five years apart hadn’t changed things between them, but now he realises his mistake. Things have changed between them, it was an inevitability. Sure as the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, people will change. But they haven’t grown apart—only ever closer. 

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Maverick says as steps away, hearing his gate number called out. “I’ll see you soon.” And this time, he’ll be damned if it isn’t true.

Chapter Text

The turn of the century has the whole city excited, and it’s a struggle getting through the airport amongst the bustle of holiday traffic. Christmas has just gone, and Maverick had spent it with Carole and Bradley, as he always does when he can secure leave. 

He’d found a place out in the desert to be near to his work, though the occasional deployment still comes his way. Things are really starting to click into place, but he can’t help feeling like something is still missing. Something he’s uncomfortably aware he can never have. 

New Year’s in the city is something he’s always wanted to be here for, and making it for the new millennium has him buzzing with excitement. It’s been a year since he was last here, but he made good on his parting words to Ice. A few months earlier, he’d dragged his wingman out to the desert to show him around the base the test flights run from. He only wished he could have seen the look of horror on Hondo’s face as Iceman and Maverick returned to the skies on each other’s wing, pushing the prototypes to their absolute limits. 

Ice insists on taking Mav’s suitcase as soon as he’s through the gate. Ever the gentleman, Maverick thinks as they head to the car. 

Mav’s flight in had been early on New Year’s Eve, just in time for the largest of the celebrations. The two of them get home a little after noon, and the streets are packed with people rushing around making last minute preparations for the evening. 

The apartment is as it’s always been—minimally furnished, but now the signs of being lived in are obvious as soon as he looks closer. Photos and mementos line the shelves, and the fridge has evidently run out of space, having been expanded with a mini-whiteboard fixed to the wall. 

“Christ,” Maverick says as he looks down at the street from the living room window, “I knew this would be a big deal, but this is insane.” 

Traffic is at an utter standstill, and it seems they were lucky to make it home in the time they did. 

Ice chuckles. “Not every day you get to witness the start of a new millennium.”

“Guess not. I’ve been trying not to think about it, to be honest.” 

“I get that. It’s only a big deal if you want it to be.”

Mav considers. “I think I do. I mean, it’s as good of a chance to start fresh as there ever was, right?”

“Right. And you’re planning on doing so how, exactly?” 

“Okay fine, you caught me. I’m planning to be entirely the same person as I’ve always been. But you never know, maybe I’ll branch out.”

This gets a laugh out of Ice, “I’d hate to find out what you consider ‘branching out’, Pete.” 

Mav rolls his eyes at his wingman. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get a cat, or something.” 

“Commander Mitchell.” 

“Yeah?”

“You live in an aircraft hangar. In the middle of the desert.”  

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Later that evening they’re getting ready to go out, waiting on Slider and Sarah to come and meet them to head to some party or another. 

“What do you even wear to a party nowadays?” Mav asks, searching his suitcase.

Ice just sighs. “Maverick, do you really expect me to have any more clue than you do?” 

“I don’t know, you were always a better dresser than me.” 

“We used to wear the same uniforms?” 

“They suited you better.” Maverick is at the end of his tether, which is of course, when Sarah and Slider arrive. 

He’d run into Slider a spare few times in the last year, courtesy of work. Sarah has the same mischievous glint in her eye as she did when they last met. She grins as she sees him, “Maverick! God, it’s been too long. I’ve been stuck here with just these two idiots.” She hugs him tight, “It’s good to have my third idiot back.” 

“It’s good to see you too, Sarah.” 

The club they head to is packed. They meet the back of the queue before they can even see the doors. It seems they all breathe a sigh of relief, only really having wanted to go because it felt like the right thing to do.

“Food?” Suggests Ice, to which there’s resounding agreement. 

They wind up in a burger joint somewhere downtown, already cold and tired but determined not to fall asleep before midnight. 

“So, no party. What are we thinking?” Asks Sarah. 

Mav thinks for a second. “Could head to the park. It’s probably going to be busy, but at least there’s fresh air.”

“Yeah, screw it. It’ll be a good view of the fireworks.” Slider agrees, and they all start making their way there. 

Maverick was right about it being busy, every spare patch of grass is covered in picnic blankets and people sitting on their coats. The chill in the air is overbearing, and he suddenly regrets not grabbing gloves before they headed out. Then again, he had dressed to go partying, not to hang around in the park. 

Eventually they manage to secure a space in front of a tree. It’s perfect, the tree preventing anyone from pushing in from behind them. The four of them sit down on the cold grass at the foot of the tree just in time, waiting for the countdown to start. 

Maverick shivers, his aviator jacket once again doing very little against the temperature.

Without a word, and subtly enough in the dark that Mav is sure no one around them can see, Ice reaches over and laces their fingers. Even with Ice’s notoriously cold hands, it helps. 

Maverick looks over to Ice and mouths “Thank you.” to him. Ice simply gives Mav’s hand in his a gentle squeeze, not letting go.  

The countdown starts, and all of a sudden the entire park livens, a surge of excited anticipation. The four friends scramble to their feet, Mav still not letting go of Ice’s hand. 

As the clock hits midnight, Maverick watches as couples around them rush to kiss each other, a tradition he’s participated in many times with people whose names he can’t quite recall. Next to them, Sarah has taken a leaping jump into Slider’s arms, seeing in the new millennium in style. 

Maverick looks over to his wingman. There’s a spark in his blue eyes, illuminated by the fireworks. 

Before Mav can steel his resolve, Ice is already leaning in. 

They're in amongst a sea of people, and no one here but their friends would possibly notice them in the moonlight and bright sparks above them filtering through the leaves. 

The world around them could care less, but to them, everything suddenly feels like it’s been electrified. Like they’ve opened a door and now water rushes through, threatening to drag them away. Ice’s hand on his jaw as he deepens the kiss is an anchor, a lighthouse. They’re exactly where they were always supposed to be. 

Sarah and Slider aren’t completely distracted, it seems, because there’s a loud gasp from behind them, quickly followed by Slider whispering not-so-quietly. “Thank God . I thought I was gonna have to watch them go round in circles for another decade.” 

Mav pulls back from the kiss momentarily. “We can hear you, you know.” He says, hoping it’ll spook Slider, which it does. Maverick laughs, and then returns to far more important activities, such as pulling his wingman into another kiss. 

When they’re both thoroughly breathless, they pause. “God, I’ve wanted to do that forever.” 

“How long is forever?” Asks Mav, genuinely curious. 

“Pretty much since I first saw your stupid face.”

“Hey! I have a perfectly nice and not stupid face, thank you very much.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Ice grins adoringly. “I love you.”

“I know.” Mav shakes his head fondly. “Fourteen years, Ice. We really are idiots.” 

“You think it would’ve worked out if we’d figured it out sooner?” 

Maverick ponders on this for a moment. “Maybe. I don’t know. But hey, we’re here now. That’s what matters.” 

“Christ, Mitchell. When did you get wise?”

“I’ve always been a fountain of wisdom, Ice. You just weren’t ready to hear it.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

They walk with Slider and Sarah to Sarah’s place, laughing loudly. They’re all exhausted, but the city that never sleeps is more awake than it’s ever been. 

When they finally get home, it’s well past 2am. They’re dead on their feet, and collapse on the couch before they make it as far as the bedroom. 

Mav starts to drift off, and Ice nudges him. “Hey, Mav? You still awake?” 

Maverick mumbles his assent, and Ice continues. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“What’s that?” Mav pushes himself to sit up, intrigued.

“I’m selling this place.” 

The pin drops. “Ice, what the hell? You love it here, why the hell would you want to leave?” 

“They’re making me an Admiral, Mav. I can’t stay here. It’s a good time for a change, right? New millennium and all.” 

“But Ice—it’s your home.” 

Ice cuts him off. “Come with me. To California.”

“Ice—”

“We can get a place—there’ll be enough space for Bradley to have his own room if he ever wants to visit. You can even get your cat. We won’t need to explain it to anyone, no one would question us. You can keep your weird man cave in the desert, too.” He’s rambling, uncharacteristically nervous. 

“Ice, slow down a second.” 

“Of course I love it here, of course I’ll be sad to leave. But it’s not this place that’s my home, Maverick, it’s you. Wherever you go, that’s my home. That’s where I want to be—”

“Tom.” Maverick cuts him off with a brief kiss. “Yes. Ice, yes. Of course I’ll go with you. Jesus, give a guy a second to speak.” 

Ice goes quiet, trying to mask the grin forming on his face.

“God, you’re worse than me sometimes.” Maverick’s words are achingly fond. “Youngest Admiral in history. I’ll be damned.” 

“I’m nothing if not an overachiever.” 

“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart.” Maverick yawns loudly, and Ice leans in to kiss his forehead. 

Ice stands up, takes his hand. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.” 

It’s the last night they spend together in the apartment,

It’s the first night of the rest of their lives.

Chapter Text

There’s a house down by the water. The front yard is in bloom, the late spring heat bringing forth an array of purples and oranges in amongst the bushes. On the drive, a motorbike is nestled behind an old truck, shining in the afternoon sun. 

Inside, boxes line the hall—signs of lives lived in previous places and times. The kitchen is in use, the evening’s dinner heating up in the oven. The fridge is plastered with pictures, postcards, memories. 

Upstairs, a room is set up for two. Framed photographs sit on the nightstands. A desk across the room didn’t take long to become overwhelmed with paperwork, a pair of reading glasses balanced precariously atop one of the stacks. 

Down the hall is another room, housing a single bed, which has been made with dinosaur-patterned sheets. Though its intended guest will insist he’s grown out of them, he’ll secretly be glad they’re there. There’s a keyboard in the corner, waiting to be played. 

In the backyard, two men curl up together in the shade of a swinging chair, ice-cold lemonade in a jug next to them split between two glasses. A cream tabby kitten stretches in a patch of sunlight on the grass. The fence is high, and they have no cause to worry about prying eyes. 

To anyone else, this place is just another house in a grid of similar buildings, something to drive past without much thought. 

To them, together at last, this is home.