#forever pushing the maverick picking ice up agenda

[haljordns]

big brother ! rooster one-shot

summary: rooster gets back from deployment and surprises you

wc: 1.3k

tags: dad!maverick, pops!iceman, big brother!rooster & gn!reader

to: @agerefandomrambles , your big brother bradley agenda has inspired me & I hope you enjoy :)

credits: x x x x x x

You hardly paid any attention to your dad when you heard him approach from below, you were perched up in your tree fort with one foot dangling down and you absolutely were not sulking. One of your untied laces blew in the wind and you kicked dejectedly at a nearby tree branch, when Maverick had climbed the ladder enough to reach he tugged at the loose lace to get your attention.

“Hey nugget,” He smiled. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“Go ‘way.” You mumbled, looking away.

Maverick wasn’t deterred in the slightest and you begrudgingly made room when he climbed the rest of the way into your tree fort. Normally it was cool having a navy pilot for a dad but at times like these, it was a little annoying – you doubted the typical 40-year-old parent was climbing up a rickety wooden ladder into a shoddy tree fort but here Mav was anyway.

“We’re making chicken and dumplings for dinner, won’t you join us?” Mav leaned into your shoulder peering at you like comfort food might persuade you down.

“‘M not hungry,” you replied. “And that's Brads favorite, we shouldn’t have it without him.”

Rooster was supposed to have come home two weeks ago. Two entire weeks and you’d been so patient but then his return had been pushed back and then delayed and now you had no clue when you’d see him again. You’d tried to call him today only to be met with a voicemail to which you’d let out an impressive string of curse words.

Ice had been less than impressed. You’d earned yourself an hour of quiet time with no TV, no cell phone, and no games. When you’d been sprung free you’d headed straight for your tree house. It wasn’t fair, you just missed your big brother was all.

“It’s comfort food, nugget,” Maverick insisted. “B wouldn’t want you to go on a hunger strike.”

He used one hand to brush some stray hair out of your eyes even though you were pointedly not meeting his gaze; though you were frustrated you supposed it was nice to have your dad around. You sighed and slumped into his side, letting his arm come around your shoulders easily.

“I miss him,” you mumbled and began to pick at a loose thread in the rip of your jeans.

Maverick was quiet for a moment as he ran a comforting hand up and down in your back. “I know, we all miss him, but he won’t be gone forever.”

“Feels like it,” you pouted.

Maverick huffed a small laugh at that and you pulled back to glare at him, this was not a laughing matter. Your dad put his hands up in a show of surrender and you eventually let up on your glowring. You were fully prepared to sit up in your treehouse all evening but eventually, your stomach rumbled disrupting the comfortable silence. Your dad was smiling fondly but didn’t laugh when a blush rose up in your cheeks.

“C’mon,” Maverick said as he began to maneuver himself back down the ladder. “Dinners almost ready.”

You moved to follow him but then paused. “You said… we’re making dinner…”

Maverick sighed and rolled his eyes. “Pops is making dinner.”

You grinned at that and nodded with a renewed vigor to get out of your tree and into the kitchen.

Though Maverick got down before you he waited for you at the bottom. When you met him there he offered his hand to you and even though you were often one to insist you were too old to hold your dad's hand you took it with a shy smile. Dad pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head briefly before you got started towards the house.

“Love you kiddo.”

“Love you too Dad.”

The house was quiet save for the sounds of Ice moving around in the kitchen and when you got inside Maverick suggested you go clean up for dinner. You bounded up the stairs and made quick work of scrubbing your face and hands before darting back to the kitchen, following the smell of a Kazansky-Mitchell household special.

You were breathless by the time you got to your Pops side, leaning against the counter so you could peer up at him where he was tending to the food on the stove.

“First of all,” He started, turning the heat down. “Careful around the stove.”

You rolled your eyes but took a step back anyway to appease him.

“And no running in the house!” Maverick called from the living room, leaning over the back of the couch so he could point at you. “For such a tiny little thing you sound like a pack of wild bulls.”

You scrunched your nose and stuck your tongue out at him but he only mirrored you. Ice sighed but he was still smiling. “Alright children, settle down. Nugget why don’t you go set the table?”

“You’re putting me to work?” You gave him your biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes.

Ice looked unimpressed. “Consider it the price for your dinner.”

Before you could bound off Ice put a hand on the nape of your neck, looking down at you with thinly veiled concern. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “Just wish he was here, you know?”

Ice sighed and nodded before he leaned down to press a kiss to your hairline. “I know.”

The two of you stayed close for a moment before Ice nudged you off toward the dining room. “The tables not gonna set itself.”

You grinned at him leaning up to press a messy kiss to his cheek before getting plates and utensils ready. You set the table as fast as possible – you had a little game you played in your head trying to see if you could beat your time. So far the fastest you’d been able to set the table without breaking a plate was a minute and 15 seconds.

Maverick wandered into the kitchen right as you were setting down the last plate and you beamed at him showing off your work. Maverick nodded approvingly as ruffled a hand through your hair, you ducked out of the way just in time for Ice to enter the kitchen, setting dinner down in the middle of the table.

“Looks like you forgot a plate, kiddo,” Maverick commented as he rounded the table to help Ice who was bringing in a plate of rolls. “You’re losing your touch.”

“What do you mean?” You scoffed, affronted, as you did another plate count. “Three plates, three mouths!”

“You forget about me already?”

You whirled around so quickly you nearly bumped into the corner of the table, would have if Ice hadn’t caught you with a quick hand. You were staring with a mixture of awe and disbelief at where Bradley stood fighting a stupid smug smile in the dining room entryway.

“You grew a mustache!” was the first thing you could muster.

“You like it?” Rooster asked running his fingers over it and trying to look down at it even though it was attached to his face. Maverick snorted a laugh that he tried to cover with a cough.

“It looks stupid.” You settled on, crossing your arms. You were fighting your own smile but Rooster had been away for two extra weeks. You had to make him work for it.

“You look stupid,” He shot back.

The two of you stared each other down but eventually, your steely glowering dissolved into grins and you finally ran to him. He had put on more muscle than he’d had the last time and he picked you up easily holding you in a tight hug. “Hey there, monkey.”

He’d always called you that when you were younger because you had a habit of clinging and climbing him like a jungle gym. “Hi, butthead.”

Rooster laughed. “Forgot what a twerp you were.”

Rooster set you down gently but you took hold of his hand. “Better get you used to it.”

You knew that eventually, he’d have to go back. He’d be called away and you wouldn’t see him again for long months at a time, but now he was here and that was good enough for you.

“Oh and Pops made dinner, not Dad, so it’ll be really good!” You promised as you grinned up at your big brother.

“Hey!”

[iceman-maverick]

is softly trying to wake up your sleepy partner a trope ? idk. anyway “ice, baby, it’s time to wake up.”

“Ice, baby,” Maverick whispers, lightly pushing at his shoulder “it’s time to wake up,” 

Several truths reveal themselves to Ice the moment he returns to consciousness:

It is swelteringly hot

The base of his spine hurts like a bitch

He is naked

And, most troubling, he is quite sticky 

None of these revelations are particularly encouraging, but his aching back quickly takes priority as Ice comes to and gets his bearings. He stretches his arms, grossly caked in dried over sweat, over his head and then yelps once his index finger collides with the metal coils of the bed frame. He frowns, bringing the wounded digit to his lips. 

Maverick is sitting on the edge of the bed - dressed, showered, and shaven with an irritatingly dopey smile. He’s wearing jeans and his leather jacket, which doesn’t make much sense given how fucking hot it is in here.

Ice squints at him accusingly. 

“What-” Ice starts, then swallows. His throat is bone-dry, his tongue not much farther off as he sucks on his still throbbing finger. “What time- wait, where are we?” 

The curtains of the room are drawn shut tight enough that just the slightest ray of sunlight is able to creep in. There’s no air conditioning, and the bedframe squeaks loudly with even the slightest of movement so Ice figures that wherever they are, it’s old as hell. 

“It’s almost three,” Mav tells him. He gestures for Ice to sit up and passes over a glass to Ice’s free hand. Ice frowns as the motion pulls unpleasantly at his back and then promptly gulps down the entire thing. Ice rolls his shoulders and pops his neck. God, he is fucking sore. 

“Come on sweetheart,” Mav prompts, “wheels up. Slider’s starting to lose it out there,” 

Mav stands and walks over to open the curtain, flooding the room with light. Ice flinches at the brightness, peeling back the thin cover sheet and swinging his legs over so that his feet land on the fuzzy teal carpet. The sheet - adorned with pastel pink flowers and butterflies - sticks to Ice’s leg as he moves. He grimaces as the puzzle pieces begin to fall in place.

“Am I in heat?” He asks, trying not to be overly put out by Maverick’s smug look. 

“Nope,” Mav pops the 'p', from where he stands, arms crossed, by the window. “Well, you were. Not anymore though, I saw to that, thank you very much. It came on fast enough that we had to get real creative,"

Ice blinks, his stomach drops. "...Creative?"

"We’re in Nana’s room,” 

Oh Christ.

It had been Ice’s idea in the first place to get the band back together so to speak. It had been a few years and between deployments, reassignments, and Hollywood going local, everyone was clamoring for a vacation.

Maverick famously hates anything to do with camping so they compromised, landing on what Slider has taken to calling Boyscouts Lite. Ice found an RV rental and enough tents to reasonably shelter a handful of pilots, three women, an eight year old, and twin baby girls.

A tall order to fill, no doubt, but thankfully Slider's Nana conveniently owns a vast plot of land up in NorCal with river access, enough trees to give Hollywood the creeps and, most importantly, radio signal. Maverick refused to go unless he could be guaranteed his daily dose of Springsteen. Nana was more than happy to act as their crew's headquarters, positively delighted to meet all of Ronald’s little friends. 

Ice’s last lucid memory was breaking up an argument between Carol and Wolf. They had been organizing the fishing equipment when suddenly Wolf shrieked a sharp, piercing wail that startled several birds into flight. His finger had been pricked - barely, Carol protested. Accusations began flying and Maverick, naturally, was no help. 

Within moments of parking the RV, Mav elected himself as the resident river thermometer, stripping to board shorts, making a real show of it once the chorus of whistles and cheers started up. He plopped himself down - a can of beer in either hand - onto one of Bradley’s tubes (the one with the flamingos, specifically) and cast off into the river. Supervising, he had smirked from his tube, bopping along without a care in the world. Ice supposed he should be grateful that his alpha wasn’t one of those excruciating knotheads that insisted on micromanaging everything, but mostly Ice was just annoyed that he was left alone to wrangle with the tents. 

Ice vaguely remembers pushing himself between Carol and Wolf - the distinctly unpleasant scent of agitated betas making his lip curl. He had shoved Wolf back hard and then after that Ice’s memory goes mostly blurry.

Heat tends to do that to a guy.

“Come on,” Maverick startles him back into the present, reaching a hand out to pull Ice to his feet. Ice brings his arms up and around Maverick’s neck, breathing in the reassuring scent of content alpha - his alpha. 

“Hi,” Ice smiles into Mav’s neck, swaying forward to let the alpha bear most of his weight. Mav makes a pleased sound and wraps his arms around Ice’s hips, digging his thumbs in to massage at the sore tissue.

The sound Ice lets out in relief is rather unbecoming of a naval officer with his record, but Ice is too blissed out to find it in himself to be embarrassed. Plus, they're alone and it's not ike Maverick is a stranger to the various groans, moans, and whines Ice comes up with. No, Maverick loves when Ice gets vocal, makes it his most sacred duty to get Ice to make as many sounds as possible in bed.

It's a shame he doesn't remember much of the previous night, Ice thinks. If the ache in his back is anything to go by, it must have been a good one.

Ice lifts up his right leg to rest atop Maverick’s hip and swoons as Mav, ever eager to follow Ice’s lead, uses his grip to pull up Ice into his arms. It’s a little ridiculous, what with Ice’s clear size advantage and all. But Maverick is strong, and takes Ice’s weight like it’s nothing. He shuffles his hold so that Ice can squeeze his thighs around Mav’s waist, effectively clinging like a starfish across Maverick’s front. 

“Hi,” Mav smiles back once they’re both situated. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

Ice drops his head to rest snuggly on Mav’s shoulder, and nods. He lets his eyes close as Maverick begins to walk towards what Ice prays to be some form of indoor plumbing.

---

going into heat while being slathered in sunscreen and bugspray must be amongst the top 10 ickiest feelings of all time, ice truly is so brave.

We're playing an IceMav askbox fic game. Send me a trope and a first sentence and I'll write at least one paragraph!