Roses || icemav

Nightmare

It's a few months later, mid January of 87, when Ice is back standing, or rather, leaning on the railings of the side of a carrier. It was late, it was stuffy inside, and he couldn't sleep. The sea air was refreshing, like drinking cold tap water while chewing mint gum, that kind of refreshing. It drives out the clogged up sensation of his too-hot room.
There's no-one there except for his thoughts and the stars and their reflections on the sea below him. It was peaceful, it let him think. And god did he ever have to much to think about.
It was Maverick, Pete Mitchell, his wingman, in his head, next to him, at his twelve or his six, constantly. Ice had fallen for him almost instantly when they'd met, after he had spent a lesson with his eyes practically fixed on the back of his head, willing him to turn his head and look at him. And when he had, he'd turned his head back pretty quickly, and Ice couldn't tell if it was a smirk of sparking rivalry or a smirk of confusion at why he had been looking at him. Ice told himself it was a smirk of confusion, but who smirks when they're confused? He just didn't want it to be a smirk of rivalry. Even though it was.
He just didn't want to be alone in these feelings of love for him.

Ice blinks, and looks down to where he could hear the waves slapping against the side of the carrier.
At least he knows now why it's called 'falling' in love.
It's called falling in love because one can't stop it from happening. It's called falling in love because it feels endless.
It's called falling in love because he couldn't stop it.
He loves him, he loves the way he holds himself, his smile that was on a slight tilt, how his sparkling green eyes lit up, the way he would fly too fast and buzz the tower and not care about the consequences. He loves the way Maverick was drawn to danger, drawn to the most risky manoeuvrers, never being satisfied unless he was going mach two and breaking every rule in the book.
It sounded stupid of him, Iceman, the person who lived his life by the rules, to have eyes for he who did not. He noticed the little things about him, like there were these few strands of hair that he could never get to lay flat, and the way whenever something was worrying him or if he was confused, he'd clench his jaw, or look down, or half blink, or furrow his brow, even if it was only for a second. Blink and you'd miss it, but Ice didn't miss it.

Over the past couple of months, he'd grown close to him, it was close like friends. But it was close, at least. Ice knows Maverick blames himself for Goose's death, and he wished he didn't. He also knows that he's plagued by nightmares. Not every night, but it's at least once a week. At least once a week where he wakes up in tears. He hated Ice seeing him like that, but Ice didn't care, he would simply just sit there with him until he'd recovered. But he'd pretend he was okay, and that broke Ice's heart every time he'd say it. He'd always been able to see through certain people in his life, and Maverick was one of those. He could tell at a glance what he was feeling, even when most others could not.

He wasn't stood that far away from the door he came out of, so he turns his head at the sound of it opening suddenly. Somebody rushes out of it, it was too dark to see who exactly, but Ice could tell that they were not an officer. So he quietly follows them. He doesn't know why.
He loses sight of them pretty quickly in the dark, and he thinks about going back to where he was, but that's before he spots the figure leaning over the railing, and something glinting in their hands. That's when he knows it's Maverick.
So Ice goes slowly up to him, along the railing, he doesn't want to startle him. "Wingman?"
Maverick jerks his head up and immediately freezes at the sight of Ice, holding his breath, staring at him even though Ice could see the tears on his cheeks.

"What's wrong?"
Maverick turns his head to the left, looking out at the sea, then back to his feet, exhaling harshly. He tries to shake his head, to dismiss Ice's concerns, to pretend he was okay, and that he wasn't trying to breathe on the side of a carrier after a nightmare, stupid little thoughts rushing through his head, drawing his eyes to the sea.
Ice looks at him, shivering in the cold air, eyes looking everywhere apart from him, but being constantly drawn back to the endless blackness of the ocean, dogtags around his fist, and he's just opened his mouth to ask, when Maverick slams his head into his shoulder, hanging onto the back of his sweater like his life depended on it, which it kind of did.

"Save me- take me away-"
Ice only just catches the hoarse words from Maverick, but everything clicks into place. So he carefully scoops his arms under his shoulders and picks him up. "Okay.. okay..."
Maverick was shaking in Ice's arms, trying to muffle his sobs in his shoulder. He had hooked his legs around Ice's hips, trying everything he possibly could to ground himself.
"Shhh..." Ice murmurs, slowly backing away from the railing and the sea. "Not now, wingman, not today,"
Ice's words only makes him cry harder. He feels sick to the core, sick and scared, scared of his own head, terrified of what could have happened had Ice not been there. "I'm sorry-" he pushes out the apology, turning his head only to bury it closer into his neck.
"No, no... don't be sorry," Ice slides his left arm up to the back of Maverick's head, threading his fingers through his hair, holding him in place.

Iceman carries him back inside, into the warmth, into his room, where he sits down on the bed with Maverick in his lap, still crying in his shoulder.
At some point, Maverick lifts his head up, but he can't look at him. "Ice- I'm sorry- I'm sorry I'm so sorry..."
"Pete... you don't have to apologise,"
"Yes I do-" he says, his voice unstable, "That was almost it- I.. I-" His words stop being so compliant, and he can't say anything more.
"But you didn't,"
"But.. if you weren't there-" his voice is husky, scratchy, worse than Ice has ever heard it.
"I'm your wingman," Ice says softly, pushing Maverick's head gently back into where it was on his shoulder. "Through enemy planes and scares like these, I'm here for you,"

And Ice holds him until he stops shaking.
I love you, I love you so much, so much it hurts. He thinks, but he doesn't say it. All he can do is press kisses so long to his head they feel like he's resting his head on his.
They end up laying down on the bed, it was small enough to just feel right when they were both on it. Ice had put Goose's dogtags on the bedside table, he had wrapped them so fiercely around his hands that he could see where they were sat. Maverick is pressed against Ice, laying there, slowly breathing him in. He can't do anything else, not tonight.
Ice doesn't ask why, doesn't ask what happened, he can guess. It was Goose, a nightmare so harsh and violent, and intrusive thoughts making him feel there was no other way out. So he keeps his arms around him, holding him as close as he can, trying to use his actions to tell Maverick the words he could not.