#and it occurred to me i could do the same thing with icemav

[sluttyhenley]

TOP GUN (1986) dir. Tony Scott

[thebahwrites]

Hey!!! If you’re still doing prompts then please do Icemav + talking about death please :)

Icemav + Death talks To read listening: I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab for Cutie CW: Heavy angst, injury, blood mention, car crashes death talks I don't usually add these to these warmup prompts but today I woke up and chose violence so I'm putting this under a read more, no one dies but you get the idea.

Love of mine Someday you will die But I'll be close behind I'll follow you into the dark

"What do you think there is? At the end."

"Mav, stop talking, for once." Or don't. Tom couldn't think quite clearly, which was a first for him — so much for being ice cold when it got down to this. It did occur to him that maybe this was why relationships of people in the same squad weren't allowed because right now thinking became some form of extreme exercise, the convoluted kind ; like trying to find space in a crowded shelf for another knicknack. His hands are shaking, why are his hands shaking? Had the ice finally made all the way into his bones?

"You'd miss the sound of my voice, admit it, Kazansky." Maverick jabs again but there's just the slight hint of strain underlining the words that make Iceman even colder, ironic as it was. It was so damn cold but Tom isn't sure his hands are shaking because of the snow falling around them. It hurts.

"Yeah I would." He's forced to admit to at leas try and focus on something here.

"There's nothing else for you to do, Tom, give it up." Pete hums, talking all too casually for someone whose head and neck were bleeding so heavily that Tom felt like getting sick. The kind of sick he'd feel when a missile rushed right by his cockpit but didn't hit, swerving by the skin of his teeth. He still wouldn't let up, hands wrapped around the man in his arms, cradling that, thankfully so warm, body like it was his mother's fine china. Maverick had always been smaller than him, alright, but right now he felt small. Fragile, even. And Iceman who was never afraid, the man who never hesitated, felt like a helpless child.

"Ambulance's gonna be here soon, c'mon, just keep me busy here." Mav offers and if the man hadn't just been sent through the windshield of their car Ice might have strangled him right there — how dare he be the one comforting him? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Trust that creature to be a maverick of his own.

"Even if you were dying, which you aren't just so we're very clear, this isn't a conversation I ever felt like having, you know?" Maybe it's a snippy response, snippier than it normally would have been — as if he isn't feeling like discussing death and mortality with a man bleeding out on the side of the road in his arms.

"I'm not afraid of dying." Pete's words aren't, somehow, a surprise.

"To no one's surprise, Mav." Maybe there wasn't, in fact, anything he could do other than keep the man's focus and attention on this conversation; even if it meant indulging in what was at best a terrible topic and at worst a terrifying telling of this car crash they found themselves in. Ice runs shaky fingertips over Maverick's bloodied forehead, not really doing much but it felt warm under gelid digits.

"Are you?" Of course Pete would ask that. Tom sighs through his teeth, caving to the whims of that stubborn little man, pushing into that conversation. Pete Mitchell could always get whatever he wanted from him, whatever it was, that short man recklessly held Tom Kazansky's heart in the palm of his hand.

"I am, actually." Ice admits defeat all to easily, finally peeling his gaze away from the man on his lap, eyes falling on the Christmas lights around them, red and white and yellow, the spotty other colorful hues here and there. "Wanting to live is what keeps me fighting to not lose, I think that's where we differ, Mav." It's not that Tom didn't think about it often, he just had better things to think about most of his time. But he looks down and catches curious, though bloodshot, green eyes watching his face ever so attentively.

"I don't know what's at the end, to answer your question but I don't think it matters that much either... I think it's the whole of the journey that counts." His voice feels steadier now, watching Pete's features ever so closely, they're all alone in the world for now. Surrounded by the distant lights, fading Christmas carols, quietly falling snow and the smoldering wreckage of the car; all vague witnesses to this small tragedy. Maverick's blood dripping ever so quietly, staining Iceman's jeans into a painting he wished to forget. "I think... whatever's at the end, it's the whole of my life that should make it count... maybe afraid isn't the right word, the thing is, I don't want to die, I want to stay here, with you."

Tom wonders if he's said the wrong thing when Pete falls silent, which in any other setting would've warranted a finally! from him. But it doesn't, instead, he only knows the man hasn't passed out because he can see pondering eyes.

"I think I lied." Maverick finally speaks, voice a little shaky, hands coming up to find Iceman's wrist, a thumb sliding into his pulse point. "I think I am afraid of death... just not mine."

If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark