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Slider's family cabin up north is perfect. Two bedrooms, cozy, every item handpicked or handcrafted by Slider's eclectic parents, and, most importantly, private. Iceman always likes visiting Copper Harbor with Slider while they're on leave, and the Kerners always like hosting Ice. Which is why Denise and Richard are so amenable about loaning Ice the cabin for a week.
There's a lot to do, even with snow drifts almost as high as Maverick is tall. Hiking, skiing, snowmobiling. It's faster, and easier, to take the aforementioned snowmobiles into town than it is to drive. Especially this time of year. Plus, Maverick's a natural on a snowmobile; Ice is more than happy to let him drive while he rides on the back. He can keep his long arms tightly around Mav's sturdy middle and enjoy the view. But most of their week has been spent in bed; the cabin is in a nice secluded section of the woods after all.
"Ice!" Mav calls out. He jumps up and down, waving. They're hiking around the area while the weather's still clear. The Kerners have snowshoes, but Maverick was too impatient and trudged off through the knee high snow immediately. "The lake's right down there!"
Lake Superior, in all her frosty glory, is just through the trees. Ice is fairly certain the Kerner property goes all the way to the waterfront. But he remembers Slider telling him it was legal to walk along the shore, so it's mostly moot if they want to walk that way anyway.
"Careful, Maverick!" Ice warns as he catches up.
The wind is worse near the water, whipping around them and stinging their faces. It is jaw-droppingly gorgeous though. Similar to the open ocean they're familiar with from carriers, tall waves crest and break. Chunks of trees, rocks, and shrubs along the shoreline are encased in ice from the water reaching up and freezing almost instantly. Clumps of snowflakes descend down, clinging to them and everything else.
The first time Slider invited Ice out here, he envisioned something much smaller. Lake Superior is more like a sea. Of course there's no salt, which is a vast improvement in Ice's opinion. He grew up on various naval bases, but a lot of his time was spent in Hawaii. Other kids taught him how to surf; he learned to swim in the warm waters of the Pacific. But the salt. It's so itchy.
Maverick catches a few snowflakes on his tongue as Ice catches up. He links arms with him and mashes his cheek against his arm. They both exhale deeply, almost in tandem.
"This place is pretty," Mav says. "Slider really grew up out here?"
"They summered here," Ice explains.
Maverick scoffs with a grin. "I've never summered anywhere. You?"
"NYC, actually. My mom's from there, and my grandparents still live there."
"That's pretty cool."
"Not really. I had to work for my grandpa all summer," Ice huffs. It's not a terrible memory, but his grandparents owned a bathhouse. Ice spent a lot of summers around naked, wrinkly old men, delivering towels, coffee, and vodka.
"I'm sorry, but that's actually pretty funny," Mav chuckles.
"I learned a lot of conversational Russian," Ice adds with a shrug.
Mav tugs on Ice's scarf pulling him down for a kiss.
"That would be your takeaway," he teases lightly.
Ice snorts and rolls his eyes. Normally, he'd look around to make sure no one is watching. But they're the only ones around for miles. He grabs the lapels of Mav's coat and kisses back, furiously and hungrily. Maverick bites back, literally.
"Maybe we should head back," Ice hums.
"Not yet," Mav says.
He steps back, still holding Ice's scarf. They get a little closer to the shore. Ice sighs and shudders from the cold. He pulls the scarf over his face more and looks out at the lake with Maverick. In a few days, they'll have to go back to work and, more or less, civilization. A few months later, Maverick'll be deployed. Their relationship is tricky; it's lonely. But the shared days here and there make it all worth it, Ice thinks. And before he can vocalize it to Maverick, Mav's already doing something reckless and stupid.
He's stripped off his gloves, coat, hat, and… Mav's shimmying out of his jeans. He didn't bother with long underwear and snow pants that morning, like Ice had.
"Are you fucking insane?" Ice snaps. It could be hypothermia, but they haven't been out that long.
"Tracy told me about this in town last night!" Mav shouts back, hopping out of his boots.
Tracy is dead to Ice now. Which is a shame, because he really likes her. She's one of the bartenders in town, and Ice has seen her on and off throughout his trips in Copper Harbor with the Kerners. He makes a mental note to suggest to Denise that she remove Tracy from her Christmas card list.
It's a polar, or cold, plunge. And technically, they can be good for you. Ice has done his fair share of them. Especially during the summers. During his summers in New York City, Ice ran (for fun). He'd sprint around the neighborhood, where the bathhouse was, then head up to dive into one of the cold pools. It felt amazing. But that was in a controlled environment with towels.
Maverick just decides to take a dip into Lake Superior. This past summer, a bell from one of the shipwrecks in the lake had just been recovered; Slider says it's a big deal. It's much further west than where they are though. That area has had hundreds of wrecks. Ice isn't entirely sure on the number of shipwrecks in Copper Harbor, but he isn't taking his eyes off the water.
Mav's knee deep. Ice dashes to the edge and stops. The extra layers are no good; they'll drag him down. The waves they've seen have easily been higher than they are tall. A few maybe even twice Slider's height. They'd easily get swept up and down into the icy depths. Wide eyed and terrified, Ice isn't sure he's even breathing as he watches Maverick wade out.
"Pete!" he calls out.
Maverick whips around with a grin and waves.
"Get back here!" Ice gestures, frantically, to the shore.
"It's f-fucking cold!" Mav shouts back.
He inches forward, thankfully, back to the shoreline. Ice steps in. His boots are waterproof, but he can still feel the temperature drop in his toes. Agonizingly slow, Maverick gets closer and closer.
"You look so serious," he teases, teeth chattering, "What's wrong, Ice?"
A wave crashes into his back. Maverick yelps and stumbles forward. He falls face first into the frigid water, but the swell doesn't drag him back. Ice flings his gloves and coat off, splashes in, and hauls Maverick up and out. Once they're out and back by the abandoned clothes, Ice throws his coat around Mav and zips it up.
"Fuck that's c-c-c-cold," Mav complains, shivering.
"You're going to get hypothermia and fucking die," Ice hisses. He pulls off his own snow pants and helps Maverick into them. "Get your boots and gloves on. C'mon."
"It's g-g-good for you."
"Maybe in a controlled environment with towels and blankets nearby."
Ice pulls Maverick's coat on himself and scoops up the rest of his clothes. He leads the way, taking extra care to kick and stomp down as much snow as possible. As they walk back, the sun begins to disappears behind thick clouds. The snow's coming down faster.
"At least we didn't go too far," Ice sighs as the cabin comes until view. He peeks up and squints at the sky. They had been hiking around aimlessly for at least an hour before Maverick's impromptu plunge, but the beach they were just on was maybe ten or fifteen minutes away on foot.
"Can't wait for a b-ba-b-bath," Maverick mumbles.
"You wish. Absolutely not. You have to gradually let your body warm up," Ice informs him.
He ushers Maverick inside. Mav strips back down by the door. Ice eyes him hungrily before he remembers Maverick nearly froze to death in Lake Superior. He'll wait. At least for an hour. Maverick doesn't seem to remember, or care, as he saunters to their room to grab some warm, dry clothes to put on. Usually he turns it into a show, Ice's favorite show if he's being honest, but there's a little hustle in his step. He has to be freezing still.
Ice collects Maverick's discarded clothes and pins them up over the wood stove. The coats and his snowpants are left on hooks by the door. He prods the fire back to life in the living room. It's not long before Mav joins him, clad in Ice's sweatpants and a sweatshirt that honestly might belong to Slider. He flops on the couch and tangles himself in the afghan.
Maverick whistles and shivers as he comments, "It's really coming down."
Outside is practically stark white out. Ice can see a few slivers of brown from the trees. He scowls and grunts. Maverick wiggles off the couch and scooches in front of the fire with a sigh.
"I'm gonna check the wood and generator," Ice murmurs. He runs a hand through Mav's hair and kisses the top of his head.
Ice has no reason to assume they're low on gas or wood, but it doesn't hurt to be safe. As he expected, the Kerners are well stocked. Ice brings in some extra logs before he starts heating a sauce pan of milk on the stove. His jeans are starting to thaw on his body; they must have stiffened up on the walk back. He shucks them off and hangs them on the line with Mav's.
Maverick maintains you can just use boiling water and a packet for hot cocoa, but Ice knows better. Warm milk, cocoa powder, brown sugar, a little bit of vanilla, and a handful of chocolate chips. Maybe two handfuls. He hums while he whisks.
"Smells good," Mav mumbles, shuffling into the kitchen. "What're you making?"
"Hot chocolate," Ice replies, "Go sit back down by the fire."
"But I'm cold," he sighs dramatically, draping himself around Ice. Maverick's still chilly hands tug at the waistband of his underwear. His breath ghosts over Ice's neck. "I can think of a few different ways to warm up."
Ice hums in acknowledgement, still whisking the cocoa together. Maverick shudders and rubs his face on Ice's back. He grunts softly.
"Fine," Mav huffs, "We'll warm up first. The boring way."
"I didn't say anything," Ice shrugs.
"Well, I'm cold. I should make sure I have all my toes and fingers."
"Go count them in front of the fire. I'll be right behind you."
"Funny, you right behind me was how I was gonna suggest we warm up."
Ice rolls his eyes and shoos Maverick gently away. He pours the cocoa into two green and brown speckled mugs. One has a moose painted on it and the other has a raccoon. Mav's back under the blanket on the couch. Ice hands over the mug as he sits down.
"At least it's pretty outside," Mav comments, motioning to the window. It's still coming down hard. He sips at his cocoa with a pleased hum.
"We're not getting out of here any time soon," Ice says.
"That's okay. We got enough wood and gas?"
"Yeah, plenty."
"We got groceries yesterday. And beer." Mav yawns.
Ice nods in agreement. They're good and stocked for a few days. Ice is already planning the aftermath of the storm. If the phones are up tomorrow, he'll ring Tracy to see how things are in town. He wants to start the truck in the morning too just to make sure the battery is okay. If it's dead, they'll have to ask someone for a jump. Which is fine, they can keep their hands to themselves for a few hours while Ray, Tracy's brother, comes over.
Maverick lets out a snore. The soft noise startles Ice out of his head. While Ice was zoned out planning, Maverick had wiggled around and put his head in Ice's lap. His empty mug is on the floor in front of them. Ice swirls his cocoa around and takes another sip.
That's all tomorrow's problem. He runs a hand through Maverick's hair. It's soft; Ice keeps stroking the silky strands. For today, they'll have to stay warm. Ice's hand stills as he dozes off as well.
"Hey," Mav grunts. He shakes his head in an attempt to get Ice moving again.
"Mm, sorry," Ice mumbles.
His fingers get to work again, running through hair and scratching Maverick's scalp.
Maverick lets out a long sigh. After a few more minutes of silence, he finally speaks up. "This is nice. We should do this more often."
"I think we can skip the polar plunge next time," Ice chuckles.