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Opposites attract. The unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Iceman and Maverick.
One lives right on the knife's edge, living each day like it’s his last. Soaking in the vitality of summer and the bitterness of winter. The other craves control like it’s oxygen. Every movement calculated, every thought scripted, every word is considered.
—
1988, Autumn. Slider’s kitchen.
Ice doesn’t drink much, in fact he drinks very little. But tonight he decides he’s going to let loose. Maverick and Slider are either side of him and they’re laughing over a deck of cards, Slider pours shots of tequila and they’re drinking and there’s a warmth in his chest he rarely feels.
He looks at Maverick and marvels at his smile that stretches from ear to ear. The chatter between Slider and Maverick starts to fade and become meaningless despite how hard he tries to latch onto the conversation.
A heaviness falls from his shoulders through to his fingertips. His elbows feel heavy at his sides. Ice shakes his hands to get his blood pumping. There’s a dullness coating his arms, stripping sensation from his skin. It doesn’t work.
Maverick and Slider notice at the same time.
“Ice?” Mav’s voice is thick with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Maybe if he says it enough he can convince himself. Panic starts to swell inside of his chest and he doesn’t know why. Slider and Mav are staring at him, Maverick offers his hand. But he can’t take it.
Ice puts his head in his hands, forcing air in and out, in and out. Begging with his brain to force this feeling to pass. The less feeling he has over his limbs the more the panic rises.
“I can’t—I can’t feel. Everything's heavy.”
“You’re okay,” Slider says gently. An awful gentle voice that he doesn’t hear all that often. Slider is so brash that to hear such a soft tone almost makes it worse.
He hears his own breathing, forced and heavy as he hides in the darkness of his hands.
“I’m good,” he forces himself to say. He won’t make a scene. “I’m good,” he says until he believes it.
Maverick arms ensnare him, and despite their height difference he feels small in his partner's arms. Small but safe, protected. He’s safe. He’s safe.
He’s safe.