A Quiet Night In (Top Gun, Iceman)

[Wolfwings22]

I’m back with another one! Sorry if this one feels rushed or if there are more spelling/grammar issues than normal. I wrote and edited this as I am waiting to go back for surgery, so I may have quickened the process a little bit to get it out before I’m down for the count for a little bit. As always, thank you always for the comments they really do make my day, and I hope you all enjoy this one!

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What happened to your ‘perfect’ immune system?” 

 

 

A little bit of sassy Mav and a sick Ice

 

 

 

    Maverick looked up as the front door closed, bringing with it a rush of cold air. January was always so bitter and he would be relieved when the weather finally shifted to something more doable. While he had a rather high tolerance for the cold (or he liked to believe that he did) his husband for sure didn’t. 

    “Is the heat on?”

    Maverick chuckled as he lifted the cutting board with diced carrots and tipped those into the large boiling pot in front of him knife scraping the surface in the aftermath to brush the rest of stubborn vegetables that clung to the board, into the pot. “The heat is always on, Ice. I promise that I didn’t lower it while you were gone.”

    A low grumble answered him, to which Maverick couldn’t exactly blame him. Ice had been a little shorter tempered than usual these last couple days, not enjoying their usual banter as he usually did. At first, Maverick had just thought that it was Ice was overwhelmed at work; going back to full time after only being in remission for a couple months was a tall order for anyone, let alone an Admiral like Ice. Maverick had given him space as much as possible for the time being, hoping he would settle in his respective role. 

    Unfortunately for Ice, that could only last so long.

    Maverick hardly reacted when Ice slid past him on the way to their bedroom, hopelessly smothering a few coughs into his shoulder on the way.

    “You okay,” Maverick called, briefly surprised when Ice didn’t respond. He gave a shrug and returned to the meal, seasoning the dish in front of him. He was certainly not the cook in the family, but Ice was tired of takeout, and the least that Maverick could do after getting home earlier than his husband was cook one of the recipes that he knew well. 

    A couple minutes later when Ice didn’t reappear in the kitchen, eager to help with his hands all over Mav, Maverick knew that something was wrong. Curiously, he set the heat to simmer and threw a dish towel over his shoulder before making his way to their bedroom. 

    He didn’t need to get far to hear the horrible, grating hacks as they left Ice’s body. He shuddered just outside the door, face drawn in worry. Agitation took over him as he shook his head and pushed forward, unwilling to let his fear override his desire to comfort Ice.

    “Sweetheart,” Maverick questioned as he looked to the foot of their bed to see Ice sitting down still in his uniform, hunched over with his arms braced against his knees to keep him upright. Every couple moments, a new cough would shake his body, lungs thick with phlegm. It crackled when he breathed, disgust clear on his face.

    Maverick swept forward and disappeared into the bathroom to find a box of tissues. He brought them back out and sat down right beside Ice, pulling handfuls of tissues out and bringing it up to Ice’s mouth and encouraged him to cough into them.

    Ice reluctantly did as Maverick told and spit into the tissues. He took the tissues from Maverick’s hands in the process, and folded them up, dabbing at the corners of his mouth delicately. He gave one quick swallow before glancing over at Maverick through the corner of his eye. “Don’t start.”  

    “It’s not back, is it,” Maverick breathed despite himself.

    A look of panic automatically passed over Ice’s face, though it disappeared just as quickly when logic took over. “No, of course not.” His voice trailed off at the end and he let out a grunt of frustration. Every since his bout with cancer, his voice had remained forever changed. Maverick argued that he could hear and understand him just fine, but everyone else often reported trouble hearing and understanding. It frustrated him to no end, and Maverick was certainly aware of that, so he did everything in his power never to make Ice repeat himself if necessary.  

    “Okay, okay, I’m just asking.” Maverick lifted a hand and rubbed between his shoulders. “You know that I worry about you. That’s the only reason that I ask.”

    Ice felt Maverick lean against him, and he didn’t have the strength or desire to push him off. “I’m fine, Mav.”

    “You’re sure? Because you know you can tell me if you aren’t.”

    Ice’s head slumped to the side as he pressed on Maverick’s forehead surely. “I. Am. Fine. Please, don’t worry.”

    Maverick had lived with Ice long enough to know when a conversation was over. He lifted his head and rested his lips lightly against Ice’s forehead momentarily before reluctantly rising to his feet. His fingers trailed over Ice’s shoulder before making his way back into the kitchen, half expecting Ice to bound after him as he always did. When he didn’t, Maverick tried to fight the rising panic in his heart and turned his attention back on dinner, relieved that it hadn’t burned yet.

    It didn’t take long for Maverick to turn back into the routine of cooking dinner while switching the old radio to a familiar station that played old music that Maverick could remember dancing to long ago. It was never something that he would admit, especially to those on base, but those long nights when he would hold Ice and spin around were times that he would never forget.

    Maverick hummed to himself as he kneeled by the oven and switched on the light, mouth watering when he saw the pork loin cooking. Only a couple minutes more before he could serve it. His stomach rumbled in hunger as he turned back to the pot, stirring the broth in front of him and refusing to take a sip from the spoon, knowing how Ice felt about that. Even with just the two of them eating, Ice always insisted that everything be sanitary, and the last thing that Maverick wanted to do was defy him.

    He had hardly gotten anymore stirs in when he felt hands settle on his waist. He felt himself lean into the touch, head inclined back and rested on Ice’s collarbone. Ice pressed his hips up against Maverick, pressing hard as he peppered kisses along Maverick’s neck, into the crook and down his shoulder.

    “Hmmm, Ice,” Maverick moaned, mouth open.

    Ice reached down and pulled at the loops of Maverick’s jeans until he half pulled, half dragged him into the center of the kitchen.

    “The food,” Maverick began with a wayward pull to the stove.  

    “It can wait,” Ice whispered as he spun Maverick around and pulled him close, arms wrapped around him and chin rested on top of Maverick’s head. Maverick didn’t fight him as he leaned into the touch with his head on Ice’s chest, sighing in contentment. “Remember this song?”

    Maverick allowed his senes to stretch to the radio, and he couldn’t stop a grin from spreading on his face. “This is the first song that you asked me to dance to....in public,” he whispered, the memory of Ice grasping him by the wrist in a gay bar and bringing him into the middle of the floor flooding his mind. Maverick had been beyond apprehensive, looking around for anyone that they knew. Any argument that Maverick wanted to give was silenced by Ice starting to slow dance with him, their bodies pressed so tightly together that Maverick couldn’t differentiate his heartbeat from Ice’s. While they had spoken about their relationship at length, this was the first grand gesture in public affection. Maverick had been shocked that Ice was the one to initiate it, yet he couldn’t have been happier about it.

    The two continued to sway back and forth, nothing nearly as crazy as Maverick was used to, careful not to overwhelm Ice. His strength may be returning, but Maverick still didn’t want to overdo it. So, he kept the rhythm slow, steps steady as Ice allowed him to take the lead despite his height difference. The steady thump of Ice’s heart heart calmed whatever fear Maverick had, and he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying the lull it brought him.

    Maverick wasn’t sure how much time passed when he felt Ice stiffen against him. At first he was certain that he had burnt some of their dinner and Ice had just noticed, but a few more moments of erratic breathing followed by a harsh shake of his shoulders told him it was something completely different. 

    He turned harshly against his shoulder, eyelashes fluttering briefly. “Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Itcsh! Itcsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh!” Ice surfaced a moment later, nose still twitching and eyes listless. 

    “Bless you,” Maverick murmured as he lifted a hand and ran his fingers over Ice’s sinuses, already feeling it beginning to swell.

    Ice let out a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat as he reluctantly pulled away from Maverick and lumbered over to the counter and ripped off a section of paper towel. He brought it up to his nose and blew, left hand anchored on the counter as he began to sway.

    Maverick was at his side in an instant, arm wrapped around his waist to hold him steady.

    “Woah, woah, easy there,” he chided as Ice continued to sway. “Take some deep breaths and center yourself. Everything is going to be okay.”

    Ice barely heard what Maverick was saying, too focused on the black stars that twinkled in the corners of his eyes. He hunched forward a couple more centimeters before finally bracing backwards to give Maverick a once over. A heavy haze settled in his eyes, taking away from the usual stormy blues that Maverick was used to seeing.

    Without hesitation, Maverick rested his hand on Ice’s cheek, a frown on his face. “I know you don’t want to believe this, or me right now, but I think you’re getting sick.”

    “M’allergies.”

    Maverick rolled his eyes. “Honey, it’s the middle of January and I just cleaned the entire house yesterday. It’s not your allergies.” He gave a pause and picked the paper towel from Ice’s hands, found a dry spot, and dabbed against his cheeks as tears began to fall. “What happened to that ‘perfect’ immune system of yours?”

    It was Ice’s turn to look away, huffing hoarsely under his breath. “I haven’t had one since the cancer.”

    Maverick winced, knowing how sensitive Ice was on the topic. He never wanted to talk about it, and Maverick was careful not to bring it up unnecessarily. He missed the days when they could laugh and joke about things, about how Ice never got sick and it was Maverick that would always come down with colds and flus while Ice would almost never get sick until the cancer hit. Now he was susceptible to everything, and Maverick often forgot that joking about it wasn’t well received. 

    “Shit, I didn’t mean it like—“

    Ice lifted his hand, one finger raised to tell Maverick to wait as he pitched back to the side, head ducked into the crook politely. “Hitcsh! Htich! Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh!” Ice probably could’ve kept sneezing, but he instead grabbed another section of paper towel and blew his nose, trying to clear his throat once he finished. “Ugh, damnit.”

    Maverick sighed and rested his hand on the small of Ice’s back and forcibly steered him back toward the dining room. He hadn’t set anything yet, as it was usually the person’s duty whoever didn’t cook to set the table. Maverick would certainly not ask Ice to do that now, and even getting him to sit at the table and not rush to help would be challenging.  

    Ice blinked confusion from his eyes as he went to stand as soon as he sat down, a hand instantly coming to press on his forehead, a hiss of pain leaving his lips.

    “I don’t think so,” Maverick ordered, bringing his hand to the back of Ice’s neck and kneading his fingers at the tight muscle he found back there. It probably wasn’t the cause for his headache, though it certainly couldn’t hurt to try and ease that tension. 

    “The food—“

    “All I want you to do, is sit here and try to relax. I can handle everything else.” Maverick brought Ice close and kissed the top of his head before leaving to finish getting dinner ready. 

    Ice could barely hold his head up, let alone watch whatever Maverick was doing. Everything was spinning and the more he tried to hold his head up, the more it dropped. Even the smell of simmering meat didn’t entice him, only serving to send his stomach flopping. He raised a fist and rubbed it against his nose fiercely. A sharp prickle flared in his nose as he forcefully sat back in his chair and clamped his hands over his nose and mouth, shoulders shuddering with each hitch.

    Just as Maverick set down the pork loin with stew poured over, just as Ice liked, Ice ducked forward, narrowly missing knocking plate from Maverick’s hands.  

    “Hitch! Hitch! Hiscsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh!”

    Maverick frowned and pushed the plate forward, hand coming to rest on Ice’s shoulder, trying to steer him back into an upright sitting position before it caused another horrible coughing fit.

    “Hitcsh! Hiscsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Hiscsh! Hitcsh!” Ice let out a sharp shudder after the final sneeze, nose so plugged up that the fit wasn’t messy. He dropped his hands from his face and looked to Maverick. “S-Sorry.”

    Maverick pouted and curled his arms around Ice’s neck and held him close. “You don’t need to apologize about anything. You’re sick and tired. There’s nothing to be sorry over.” He stroked Ice’s hair and continued to hold Ice steady until the shivers finally died down. “Do you think that you can manage to eat something? I made it just how you like it.”

    Ice forced a shy smile as he looked at the meal. It was exquisite really. Despite Maverick believing that he couldn’t cook, there were quite a few meals that Ice preferred Maverick make than his own. Sure, he was prone to growing distracted and forgetting that he was cooking, so many of their meals ended up burned. The sear on the pork loin was perfect, the stew warm with vegetables tucked around the sides. Normally this would be enough to peak Ice’s interest, but now all it made him feel was nauseous.

    Maverick set his plate next to Ice’s and took the seat beside him, winkles crinkling in the corners of his eyes as he sat down. The feet of the chair scraped against the floor as he scooted in, left foot reached out to nudge Ice’s ankle playfully. 

    Ice didn’t reciprocate as he normally would, instead all of his focus was on the meal in front of him. He picked up his fork in hand and cut away a piece of pork loin and mopped it through the stew. Shakily he lifted it up to his mouth and perched it at his lips. After what felt like a lifetime, he set it in his mouth and started to chew, despite the nausea rolling through him. He chewed slowly, the flavor pooling in his mouth despite his muted tastebuds. It took almost a minute for him to swallow, and when he tried to take another bite, his hand shook at the thought of forcing himself to take another, worried that he may throw up right then and there. 

    His fork was poised to take another chunk off when he felt Maverick’s hand on his wrist, and that brought his attention downwards. The fork clattered to the plate when he dropped it, barely able to keep his hand raised. 

    “I-I can have more,” Ice stammered.

    “Honey, you don’t have to eat it if it’s going to make you sick.”

    “It’s not going to.”

    Maverick shot him a stern look. “Ice, I know you better than anyone....sometimes maybe even better than you know yourself. I know that look when you’re nauseous. I saw it all the time after chemo and radiation.” Maverick moved to push the plate away before Ice could defiantly take another bite just to prove Maverick wrong. Ice could be just as stubborn as Maverick at times, though one would be hard pressed to ever see it. The last thing that Maverick wanted was for Ice to overdo himself, which he was prone to do when pushed.

    Ice swallowed mightily, Adam’s apple bobbing into the hollow of his throat. “Mav,” he began hoarsely.

    Maverick sighed and slipped forward onto his knees as he crawled forward and perched between Ice’s legs. A blush appeared high on Ice’s cheeks as Maverick reached out for his hands and rubbed small circles into the backs. “Ice, the one love of my life, I know that you’re sick. It’s okay to admit it and need to be taken care of.” 

    Ice looked away, eyes squinted to hide the tears that threatened to fall. His chest shuddered in a hefty cough directed upwards so he didn’t cough on Maverick. “I-I....”

    Maverick rested his chin atop Ice’s knee, swaying Ice’s leg back and forth gently. “Ice,” he prompted.

    “I don’t feel well.” 

    A smile grew on Maverick’s face, much larger than he intended as he rose to his full height and grasped at Ice’s hands to pull him to his feet. Ice reluctantly allowed Maverick to do so, suppressing a cough as his head fell forward. He was too tired to cover, and Maverick certainly wasn’t going to hold it against him. He would always much rather Ice cough openly than snuffing the fit out without giving the body the release it desperately craved. All it took was a few light strokes against Ice’s throat for Ice’s body to betray him as he started to cough harshly, Maverick’s weight at his side the only thing that was keeping him upright.

    Once the fit passed, Ice fixed Maverick with a stern glare. “That was mean.”

    “I’m sorry, but you were going to fight it for twenty minutes and make yourself miserable. The end would’ve been the same regardless—I just sped things up a little.”

    Ice muttered under his breath as he and Maverick started through the kitchen. However, the moment they turned the corner toward the hallway to take them to their room, Ice halted stubbornly, shoulders braced back and jaw set in defiance.

    “Ice,” Maverick questioned when Ice refused to budge.  

    “Don’t banish me to bed,” he begged. “I’m tired of laying there!” 

    “Okay, okay.” Maverick rubbed his upper back, hoping to calm the taller man. “Honey, I know you don’t want to, but you really have to rest. We don’t want this to turn into something worse like pneumonia.”

    Ice was having none of it. His head snapped to the side to look into the living room. “Compromise. Couch.”

    Maverick tipped his head to the side. It wasn’t quite what he had been hoping, but when it was clear that Ice wasn’t going to budge unless Maverick agreed, he reluctantly gave in and steered him towards the living room. 

    Ice went without a fight, earnestly choosing the far leftmost seat on the couch where he always sat. Usually it was with a book or when he would check emails that couldn’t wait for the morning after. It was his unassigned assigned seat if you were. Sometimes Maverick would sit there first and watch Ice stand over him, gears turning in his head to think of possibilities as to why Maverick would take such a coveted seat from him. Maverick would growl playfully and make a big deal about moving, yet when he saw the grin on Ice’s face when he settled into his spot, it made it all worth it.

    Maverick helped Ice sit where he liked and pulled the coffee table closer. He scooped Ice’s legs up behind his knees and rested them on the table, ignoring the protest that left Ice’s mouth.

    “Don’t give me that,” Maverick muttered as he grabbed a folded blanket on the back of the couch and draped it over Ice. “If you want to sit on the couch instead of in bed, you follow my rules and that means getting you comfortable with your legs up.”

    Ice rolled his eyes as Maverick continued to tuck the corners around his body. “Bossy.”

    “I’m bossy? Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

    Ice’s stare hardened just as Maverick leaned forward and nuzzled at his neck, causing a shiver to dance down Ice’s spine. 

    “Alright, no more kidding for tonight, I get it. But, can I get you anything? Tea? An icepack? Anything?”

    Ice pondered the question for a moment. “The remote and you?” 

    “I can’t believe I’m behind the remote,” Maverick gasped as he reached across the coffee table for the slick, black remote before handing it over to Ice. He then flopped down beside him, a dramatic sigh stretching through him. “I knew that I was always second in this relationship.”

    Ice jabbed his elbow against Maverick’s ribs good naturally until the smaller man wriggled into a sitting position and tucked himself beside Ice. He refused to accept the blanket that Ice tried to share with him, claiming that Ice had to keep warm as possible and needed all of it. Ice didn’t think much of it as he began to surf through the channels until he found some action movie that he was sure he and Maverick had watched before, though he couldn’t be sure. Maverick didn’t complain when it was switched on, the action captivating his attention like little else did these days. 

    Maverick snuggled against Ice’s side, attention on the man beside him instead of on the movie. He brushed the short hairs around Ice’s ears, chin rested on Ice’s shoulder. 

    “You’re gorgeous.”

    Ice shot Maverick a look out of the corner of his eye. “I’m sick and old. There is no way you think that I’m attractive like this.”

    “Old? Old? Who the hell are you calling old?” Maverick straightened, though didn’t leave Ice’s side. “You are still the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life. If you think that you don’t take my breath away whenever you walk into a room, you’re dead wrong!”

    A blush crept into Ice’s face, the heat drawing attention to the discomfort in his sinuses that he tried to rub away with his palm. 

    Maverick distracted him momentarily by pulling his head gently to the side. Smile creeping on his face, Maverick closed the distance between them and kissed Ice so lightly, do delicately that Ice felt himself craving more. His head tipped back, mouth opening to allow Maverick better access. Tongues colliding, Ice swiped his through Maverick’s mouth, catching hints of pork and broth from the meal that Maverick had managed to scarf down before Ice’s stomach had revolted. Ice would’ve stayed like that for an eternity if not for his body having other plans.

    Ice ripped himself away and lifted the blanket before ducking his head down into it, Maverick left to blink his eyes hazily as to what was happening.

    “Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Hich! Hitcsh! Hitcsh! Hitcsh!” Ice managed to quell the fierce prickle momentarily, rubbing so harshly against his nose that Maverick could hear the wet squelching sound it made when it moved. His chest ached in sympathy as he untangled himself from Ice, the couch dipping as he stood.

    Ice was left momentarily confused, a frog caught in his throat. He gave a few harsh throat clearings to dislodge it before swallowing, the feeling of fullness invading his throat and nearly casing him to gag. He hated swallowing that shit down, and knew that Maverick would scold him for it later too. Sometimes it was just easier to do it that way and deal with the consequences of a lost voice or upset stomach later.  
    
    Ice wasn’t given much time to ponder as Maverick returned promptly, tissue box in hand. He already had a handful pulled from the box and handed them over to a grateful Ice, who didn’t waste anytime in blowing his nose several times until some air could make it through his nasal passages. 

    “Tired,” Maverick questioned as he took the wilted tissues and set them on the coffee table. Ice let out a small whimper and reached for them, but Maverick held him down. “Leave them. I promise I’ll clean everything up before we actually go to bed. If you want to be in the living room then that’s the compromise; you have to be okay with us making a little bit of a mess.”

    Although not generally Ice’s style, he understood what Maverick was saying. Deciding that it wasn’t smart to push his luck to see how patient Maverick could be, he slumped back against the couch and pulled the blanket back around himself, suppressing a shudder.

    Maverick set the tissue box between them and snuggled against Ice, holding him close while also giving Ice the opportunity to push him off if he decided that he was too hot. Illness usually always brought fevers for Ice, and the man would alternate between being freezing or sweltering. The best that Maverick could do was just to be flexible and go with whatever Ice was feeling. Luckily, he was nearly an expert, so it shouldn’t have been that hard. 

    “Comfortable,” Maverick asked as he turned up the volume on the TV.

    Ice gave a brief nod. “I’m still sorry about dinner.”

    Maverick rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to apologize. Just look at it this way.....we have lunch and dinner for the next week. Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me. It sure beats whatever shit the military calls lunch these days.”

    Ice chuckled good naturally and allowed his head to fall sideways so that it was rested on top of Maverick’s. The man’s hair tickled his cheek, the faint smell of his shampoo penetrating his still stuffed up nose. “I love you,” Ice mumbled.

    Maverick reached out and squeezed Ice’s thigh. “I love you, too.”

    The room feel into comfortable silence with the only sound being that of the TV and a sick Ice.

The End

[RemedyBane]

You know I love them! Ugh, I can never get enough xoxoxoxoxoxo!! Wonderful job!

[spn27695]

I love this!!

I hope your surgery went well xx