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maverices · 12 days ago

Note

FIRST OFF I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR FICS!! Secondly I was wondering if I could request a little Drabble? Maybe a “Iceman is openly gay with slider, Hollywood and wolf man. But Maverick isn’t as comfortable with his sexuality and thinks he still has to act straight even though he’s got it BAD for ice”

first off thank you so much!!! :DD im glad you like my writing <3 & secondly of COURSE i can write that, i love a bit of closeted angst (i hope i got everything the way you wanted) this got a bit longer than i expected lol, it is crossposted to ao3 (HERE) if anyone prefers that format

standing face to face with "i told you so"

icemav angst (Word Count: 3,488)

Ice was staring again.

Maverick could feel those intense blue eyes burning into the side of his head as he intentionally stared forward, scanning the crowd at the bar as if he were actually looking for someone or something. He’d already gotten caught twice by the man when he had chanced a glance back to see if he was watching or not, and Maverick wasn’t sure his heart could take anymore eyecontact with the other pilot. Goose had kicked him in the shin in time for him to look away before an approaching lady caught him staring at Ice last time. But Goose had since drifted away to join the other pilots and RIOs in conversation, leaving Maverick alone at the bar and painfully aware of Ice’s attention. His pulse was racing, making his cheeks flush slightly as he thought about meeting his gaze again just to see.

“Right, Maverick?”

He almost jumped. He had forgotten completely about the lady at his arm – Sandra…or was it Sarah? He scrambled, but flashed her a smooth, well-practiced grin, and laughed, not knowing at all what she was asking him and hoping it was the right resposne. She seemed pleased with his laugh, giggling to herself as she leaned into his side to distance herself from the tall, frustrated-looking man who had followed her up to Maverick’s spot at the bar. Maverick gave the man a sharp, teeth-baring grin as he draped his arm over Sandra’s shoulders, leaning into her like a confident boyfriend.

“In fact, everyone keeps asking when we’re going to be engaged. This scoundrel just can’t commit, isn’t that right, Maverick?”

“You know what they say about us sailors. Brandy, you’re a fine girl,” Maverick crooned, half-singing with a wink. He placed a chaste kiss on her temple to keep up the act.

She laughed and put her arm around his waist, squeezing him as she looked up through her eyelashes, “What a good wife I would be?”

“But my life, my love, my lady–”

“Is the sea,” they finished in sync, laughing together. The man at her heels finally seemed to take a hint and walked off with an irritated huff, muttering under his breath.

Sandra stayed close up against his side for a while as she watched the man leave. She relaxed as Maverick leaned back against the bar, sighing and shaking her head. Her arm fell from around his waist and he took his arm back. She smiled at him, a sad look in her eyes and exhaustion in her voice as she spoke quietly enough that the music would’ve kept it a secret from anyone else, “Thank you for being a good man, Maverick.”

“Pete,” Maverick said with a smile, holding his hand out like it was a business deal. Her smile softened and she took his hand in a firm grip.

“Sandy,” she said as she shook his hand once, “but you can call me Brandy, sailor.”

Maverick grinned and tilted his head with a shrug, “It was improv.”

“It was good. Really,” she waid with a grin. She pulled a small compact mirror with an ornate carving of a flower on it from her bag and checked her reflection in it. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed again. “Some men can never seem to understand that some ladies just aren’t interested.”

Maverick raised an eyebrow, slightly caught off guard by the change in topic. He was about to respond when his eyes scanned over the crowd absently and caught another pair of eyes watching them. Ice still hadn’t looked away – or if he had, he was looking again. Maverick felt a thrill shoot up his spine as he locked gazes with the man, dangerous and electric, but it was overpowered by the familiar urge to smother it and push it back down deep where no one might see it. Not even him. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Ice, looking back to Sandy.

“Mhm. Can I buy you a drink, Brandy?” Maverick asked waving to the bar behind him and pointedly ignoring the stares he was getting from Ice and the other pilots and RIOs. “Just between friends. I understand when a lady only wants to use me for her protection.”

Sandy laughed and snapped her compact mirror shut. She turned to lean against the bar with her forearms crossed. Maverick caught a flash of a white handkerchief in the left pocket of her jeans as she hummed, scanning over the bar’s options. Sandy eventually smiled and waved the bartender over, “I’ll have a whiskey, neat. Put it on the sailor’s tab.”

“Mitchell,” Maverick said in response to the glance from the bartender. He nodded and turned to make her drink as Sandy turned to face Maverick more. “So, Brandy, what brings you here if not to flirt with all the sailors? Everyone knows that’s the main crowd at this dive.”

“My taste is less…salty, more sweet,” Sandy said with a wink. She nodded to the bartender with a smile as he handed her the drink she requested. “If you know what I mean?”

Maverick had no idea what she meant. He nodded anyway, pretending to understand with a quiet hum. He waved to the bartender and he slid Maverick another glass of the tequila that he’d been sipping on all night. He couldn’t resist glancing tot he side out of the corner of his eye as he waited for the drink to be poured, seeing if the attention from the table across the bar was still on him – it was. Sandy lifted her cup when he picked his up, they clinked them together before tossing them back in sync.

“Put it on my tab this time. Tequila,” Sandy called out to the bartender. She ran a hand through her hair again before sliding a shot to Maverick with a grin. “You up for a challenge, sailor?”

“I can drink in circles around you, Brandy,” he said confidently. His mind was already drifting back to Ice even as they clinked their glasses on the bar before tossing them back in sync.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt the sharp, nervous edge around the other pilot, but the awareness of that was always muted, vague. He blamed the tequila for how loud it seemed now. Maverick smiled easily at Sandy, feeling easy and in his element even if he could pick up that it was strictly platonic competitive energy between them. He was good with women. He’d dated countless women he genuinely liked; he could talk with them easily, laugh with them, play the part of a flirt without breaking a sweat – it was easy. Comfortable. Ice broke away any part of that comfort with his harsh words and challenging stares. He wasn’t simple or easy to get along with, and it was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“You’re not as oblivious as other men, are you?” Sandy asked before their next shot arrived. Her eyes were studying his face intensely, softened by alcohol and maybe a bit of camaraderie that Maverick wasn’t sure why she’d feel with him. Her eyes flitted briefly over to wher eIce was sitting, one eyebrow lifted just slightly out of his neutral resting face as he watched them – watched Maverick. “I mean, you’re clearly aware of your surroundings.”

Maverick shrugged and gave Sandy the grin that had saved him countless times in the past. “Iceman? Yeah, he’s competitive and a good pilot. We’re just…you know, rivals.”

“Oh, is that what they call it now?” she asked, her voice low and teasing as she grabbed two more shots for them from the bartender. For a split second, he felt his heart lurch into his throat and his face felt hot, a definitely blush creeping over his face that he couldn’t blame on the alcohol – an embarrassing reaction to what was likely just a harmless question.

Sandy gave him a sympathetic smile and pushed the shot into his hand, tossing hers back. “Relax, sailor. Just a friendly observation.” She didn’t look away from him though, and her expression softened a little as he took his shot and forced his eyes away from Ice for what felt like the umpteenth time. There was understanding in her eyes, sad and compassionate. “Listen, Pete, I know we don’t…know each other at all. But if you ever need to, you know…talk through it, or whatever, I get it.”

“Get what?” he asked – too quickly. She gave him a look that let him know that she could see straight through him. A slow grin worked across her face as she ordered another round.

“Oh, nothing,” she said lightly, “just some people like their whiskey neat, others like it with a twist.”

Maverick forced himself to laugh at Sandy’s comment, but her words lingered, stirring something he didn’t quite want to confront. He swirled the tequila in his glass, downing it quickly – he was drinking too fast, too much, he should cut himself off, but he lifted his hand to order another round from the bartender. Sandy simply watched him with a calm, knowing smile. After a moment, she leaned in with a conspiratorial grin.

“You know, Pete, I think I’ve had enough of sailors for tonight. I’ve spotted someone who might be more might type, think she’d be interested?” She nodded subtly toward a tall brunette with a sharp undercut and a black leather jacket, looking just a bit out of place in the sea of Naval whites. Maverick raised an eyebrow, watching Sandy adjsut her hair and straighten her jacket. She looked at him and gave him a playful wink and sly grin. “Wish me luck, sailor?”

He grinned back, feeling a strange sense of relief as everything clicked into place. He lifted his new glass to her, “Good luck, Brandy. I doubt you’ll need it.”

Sandy winked again and, with a confident sway to her hips, headed off across the bar with an impressively steady gate for taking so many shots with him so quickly. Maverick once again was alone with his own thoughts at the bar. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt the full force of Ice’s stare on him again. He tossed back the drink and slid his card to the bartender to close his tab. He’d probably regret his game with Brandy in the morning, but he didn’t care in the moment as he gathered himself and headed over to the table where the other pilots and RIOs were laughing and talking.

“Hey, Mitchell!” Slider called, smirking as he looked to where Sandy was now talking to her new interest. “What happened to your date? You let a catch like that slip away?”

“Oh, come off it, Slider, she was just looking for help to get away from that creep,” Maverick said, shrugging it off. “She wasn’t my type anyway.”

Slider gave him an exaggerated look of utter disbelieve. “Not your type? That was probably the hottest lady in here, man. You’re slipping.”

“Maybe my standards re higher than yours,” he shot back, crossing his arms defensively and rolling his eyes.

“Please,” Hollywood chimed in with a grin and chuckle. He leaned back with his drink and pointed at Maverick. “Just face it, Mav, you just got friend-zoned by one of the hottest girls in this dive. Maybe she could tell you were already in love.”

“Or maybe I don’t chase after anything with a pulse unlike some people,” he snapped, his tone a little sharper than he had intended – the tequila. He glanced away as everyone went silent, feeling uncomfortable and awkward from the tension he’d accidentally caused. It was broken after a few moments by a low chuckle from Ice, which made Maverick glance over at him.

“That’s bold, Maverick. Those ‘some people’ might be at this table, you know,” Ice said, making intense, pointed eye contact that made Maverick’s cheeks burn before sipping his drink casually – vodka and lime. The usual. Always so predictable, going by the rule book even when they were supposed to be relaxing with friends.

“I’m just saying, I’m not into the…what, all the new-age ‘free love’ shit going around lately. Some of us still have standards,” he muttered – the words tasted bitter even as he said them. It was a cheap shot, a low blow, and not even something he believed, but he felt cornered and couldn’t think of an escape besides digging his way out. The air around the table grew still, and Maverick had the feeling his escape had actually been his grave he was digging deeper.

“You’re out of line, Mitchell,” Hollywood said evenly, his usually easygoing tone long gone. “It’s one thing to tease, but you don’t have to be homophobic about it.”

“Mav, I think we should get going. You’ve probably had too much,” Goose said slowly. He’d been laughing a moment ago, Maverick felt guilty over being the reason why his RIO looked so uncomfortable. “C’mon, man–”

“You know, Mitchell,” Ice said, cutting Goose off with a calm and measured tone. His depression was impossible to read, ice-cool as always but his eyes were sharp, as if he were silently daring Maverick to say something else. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have such a problem with someone like me. There are so many better things for you to hate me over.”

Maverick’s stomach dropped. He could feel his pulse pounding as he stared at Ice. His mouth felt dry, and suddenly, any bravado and defensiveness he might’ve still had disappeared. He glanced around, trying to gauged if the others known all along, trying to read their expressions – but the tequila was making his thoughts feel muddled. Hollywood seemed to take pity on him and sighed, “If you didn’t know, now you do. Ice here is about as interested in women as that lady was in you.”

“I didn’t— I mean, I don’t care if he’s— If you…I—whatever, do whatever you want,” he muttered in a voice that sounded defensive even to himself. He tried to laugh it off but it sounded hollow even to himself. Goose stood up and grabbed Maverick’s arm in a light grip.

“Let’s go take a breather, man. You’re good, just…let’s go take a break,” Goose said quietly, tugging on his arm gently. Ice’s eyes held Maverick rooted in place, steady, waiting. There was something like pity in his gaze, but there was something else too – a challenge. Maverick couldn’t look at him directly, so he looked away like a coward, mumbling something under his breath that he didn’t understand. Ice nodded to himself and stood up.

“You’re good, Goose, I’ll get him home. I was about to get going anyway,” Ice said, brushing Goose’s hand off Maverick’s arm and replacing it with his own.

“You sure?”

“Don’t play pansy with me, I’m the only one here,” Ice said, making the table erupt into laughter – the tension finally breaking.

Maverick felt like he was on fire, heat consuming him and originating from the spot where Ice’s fingers were holding his arm in a firm grip. He didn’t fight it as Ice tugged him gently to guide him through the bar. Maverick glanced around and saw Sandy with the other woman; she gave him a knowing once over before looking at Ice’s hand on his arm and back to his eyes. There was a glint of pride in her eyes as she lifted her glass to him, and then he was outside.

Outside and alone with Ice.

“Mind if I have a smoke while we walk?” Ice asked casually, as if nothing had been said inside.

Maverick shrugged. Ice took that as permission and somehow fished a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, lit it, and took a puff without ever letting go of Maverick’s arm. He blew the smoke out away from Maverick, which he appreciated – the smell of smoke was making his stomach suddenly realize how much tequila it had consumed in such a short amount of time. He was stumbling and swaying as they walked despite his best efforts, making his leg brush against Ice’s with every other step. Maverick felt like if Ice made eye contact or they touched one more time, his head might explode from the amount of blood making his face burn.

“‘m sorry,” Maverick said when he knew they were alone.

Ice glanced over, taking another slow inhale through his cigarette without saying a word. Maverick almost wondered if he’d even spoken out loud, or if his words had been too slurred for the other pilot to understand. Ice’s hand tensed around his arm and he pulled Maverick to the side, nodding politely to the man he’d almost walked straight into without even realizing. Maverick stumbled from the sudden change in direction, unable to stop his legs as he staggered into Ice’s side. The other pilot reacted faster than Maverick’s drunk brain could track, holding the cigarette in his mouth and catching Maverick with both hands, steadying him until he got his feet back under him.

“You’re a real piece of work, Mitchell,” Ice muttered, waiting for Maverick to start walking before he grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth again and exhaled the smoke. “Dangerous in the air, and dangerous on the ground. Never would’ve pinned you for one of those.”

“Of what?” Maverick asked, wincing at the look that question earned him.

“A homophobe.”

Maverick felt like the air had been punched from his lungs. He didn’t know what to say in response to Ice’s words. He’d said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, as if Ice was completely confident in Maverick being hateful and that he had almost accepted it as a fact just as easily as the sky is blue and Ice is the best pilot in the Navy. Maverick didn’t know how to convince him otherwise, he didn’t know what words could help him.

So he didn’t say anything.

The rest of the walk was in silence. Ice eventually flicked the stub of his cigarette into a random ashtray. They stayed shoulder to shoulder, and the grip Ice had on his arm was the only thing keeping Maverick from falling into the street in front of oncoming traffic. Maverick didn’t really remember most of the walk, but Ice somehow got them both onto the base and into the barracks. He came back into his body sitting on his bed, swaying in place as Ice helped him pull his uniform off. Maverick blinked up at him when Ice stepped back. The silence felt heavy. Maverick needed to break it, or risk breaking the unsteady beginning of a friendship that he’d only recently felt starting between them.

“Ice–” Maverick staggered when he stood up too fast, feeling very underdressed in his boxers compared to Ice’s pristine and perfectly tailored Naval whites, but uncaring as he caught himself with his hands on Ice’s shoulders. Ice caught him again, hands gentle and firm on his upper arms as he helped Maverick find his balance. “Iceman, Ice, I–”

“Don’t say anything, Mitchell. You won’t remember it in the morning, and I need you to remember this conversation,” Ice said; his voice sounded sad. His eyes were sad. Maverick had made the steady, ice-cold Iceman sad.

“Ice,” Maverick repeated, shifting his hands to hold his shoulders more firmly. He licked his lips to moisten them and saw Ice’s eyes dart down to them before the man looked back in his eyes. “Ice.”

Maverick threw all caution to the wind, leaning in and standing up on his toes. A hand pressed over his face before his lips could reach their target. Ice’s expression was tense, eyes still sad but filled with understanding that made Maverick feel like his soul was laid bare between them for Ice to inspect. He shook his head slowly and pushed Maverick back gently, taking his hand away from his face as he helped him sit back down on the bed. Maverick stared at him with confusion and hurt probably written clear as day in his expression, and Ice gave him a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He cupped Maverick’s face and brushed his fingers through his hair before pulling all of his touch away all at once.

“You won’t remember this in the morning, Mitchell,” Ice said softly, he tilted his head as he studied Maverick. “Go to sleep. If you remember anything, I’ll be at breakfast.”

Ice’s words felt like an order that Maverick couldn’t ignore as his eyes grew too heavy to protest. A gentle hand helped ensure he was lying on his bed as he tipped over bonelessly. He heard footsteps and shuffling nearby, but the world faded too fast. The last thing he thought he felt was a hand brushing through his hair as the sheet was pulled over his chest.

#ahhhhhhhh i can never get enough of pre-relationship icemav #and supportive/protective flyboys have my whole heart #icemav #tg #fic rec

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