Roses || icemav

It's.. Red?

To Iceman, it felt like two seconds had passed since the ordeal with the mistletoe at Viper's reunion party, but it was February again. And what does February mean? The worst day of the year. Valentines.
Ice didn't want to do anything, he wanted to stay in his living room and ignore romance and love for the rest of his life. Other things in his life were picking up speed anyway, he suspected he was about to be promoted, and that could only mean more stress. He couldn't handle any distractions.
Especially if the distraction went by the name of Pete Maverick Mitchell.
I am not in love with him. He thinks to himself. I am not in love with him, he's gonna give me a yellow rose just like I've got him and I won't let my heart be broken by his stupid smile and his beautiful eyes and his dark fluffy hair.
Ice sits up, sighing.
He was most definitely still in love with Maverick.

And he hated it.
He hated how he felt.
How his eyes felt drawn to him, how he would stare at his hands, his eyes, his lips, the way he tilted his head, the way he'd stand, the micro-expressions of his, the subtle jaw-clenching, the way his expression softened when Ice would ask him how he was doing, his nervous foot-tapping before missions, the way he had his coffee, how his favourite colour was yellow... The list could go on.
God he was intoxicating.
Ice hates his heart for longing for someone just out of reach.
They were friends, nothing less, and certainly nothing more.
Being wingmen made them closer, allowed them to have those late night talks in mess halls about whatever, allowed them to be physically closer than regular friends.
He knew Maverick was going to give him a yellow rose, which is why his own stood in a pint of water on the kitchen counter.
He did not expect, however, the doorbell to ring.

Ice frowns and gets up off the sofa, padding to the door and opening it.
"Maverick?"
"Hey," he looks at Ice like he always does, but this time, there was more than just happiness in his eyes.
"You wanna come in?"
"Yeah sure,"
"Do excuse the.. uh, outfit, I wasn't planning on doing anything today," Ice says, standing back to let Maverick in, all too aware of his dark blue-grey hoodie and sweatpants.
"Ah, it's okay," he says, keeping one of his arms hidden behind him.
Ice pretends not to notice.

They were comfortable with each other enough for Maverick to sit on the sofa if he wanted, but he didn't.
"Coffee?" Ice asks.
"Actually, uh, I.." Maverick clears his throat. "Since its.. um, ...the fourteenth,"
Ice turns slowly around to face him.
And several things happen within seconds of each other.
Maverick. Standing there. Head slightly ducked. Holding a rose.
A rose.
A red rose.
"This one isn't for friendship," he says quietly.
And as soon as Ice's blue eyes fix on his green ones, he exhales and doesn't try to stop his knees buckling under him.
And then he's on the floor, his hands covering his face.

"Ice?! Is that not okay?!" Maverick exclaims, dropping the rose and crashing to his knees on the floor in front of his shell-shocked wingman.
A rose a rose a rose a red one a red rose.
Maverick wiggles his hands between Ice's hands and his cheeks, his expression concerned, holding his face to make him look at him.
"Mav- I don't... have the words," He didn't. He didn't at all. His eyes were fixed on the rose a metre away and his thoughts were fixed on Maverick's hands.
"Oh my god, Ice," his voice was hushed, tinged with sweetness. "You're such a softy,"
He blinks, finally looking at him. "I love you Pete," And if his voice cracked, neither of them mentioned it.
"C'mere.."

And Maverick kisses Ice.
And Ice doesn't have to keep himself together any longer, keep all his feelings for him inside of him, all that mattered was that he was kissing Maverick, finally, finally, after just under two years of wishing he could.

"I love you too Tom," Maverick says when they break apart, still so close he was whispering into Ice's mouth. "But next time, don't leave me guessing, and just god-damn kiss me under that mistletoe,"
He can't do anything except to stare into his eyes, blink to clear the blur of his vision away, and kiss him again.

Ice closes his eyes and exhales, it was almost a sigh, moving his hands up to hold Maverick's head, leaning into the kiss, into the soul-freeing feeling spreading through him, flowing from Maverick's hands through his hair.
The kiss feels like firecrackers in his chest, like the vibrating power of the F-14's engines, it felt like heaven, like everything he's ever wanted, and it was.