It was dark outside when Maverick departed the cafeteria, where a few drunken people where still celebrating, singing senseless songs and promising endless love to the exhausted bartender. He himself was pretty drunk. After Iceman had left him on the deck, he'd gone back to the celebrations, and the tall blond guy was nowhere to be seen.
He'd pretended to laugh at Viper's heavy jokes, accepted a drink from a happy Sundown who'd taken him by the shoulder and loudly apologized for "being such a dick the other day". He'd accepted drinks from Stinger, Wolfman, Merlin, even Slider. He'd accepted drinks from everyone. Anything to distract him from his impossible thoughts.
But as he moved away from the cafeteria, his thoughts weren't so disturbing anymore. They were forming a sort of fog in his head, a haziness that felt good. He felt light. The vapours of beer and whatever he'd been drinking – he couldn't remember, but did it matter? – seemed to spread an opportune airiness around his brain. Did he even notice when, instead of turning left on the path to his cabin, he continued straight and then turned right? Did he even think before opening the door of cabin 14, instead of 32? It was all so natural. After all, he'd said he was there for him.
"Who's that?" mumbled Ice's sleepy voice in the dark.
"'tis me, I guess", replied Mav, taking off his shoes, concentrating very hard not to collapse while on one foot.
"Maverick?"
"Yeah, I s'pose".
"You suppose…" Ice yawned. "Drunk, are you."
"I guess."
"Quite a lot, it seems. And…" he paused. "what do you think you're doing here?"
"Wanmetoleave", muttered Maverick, fumbling in the dark.
"No… no, you can stay."
"Th…thanks."
"Here, follow my voice… or try to…"
Maverick finally found the bed and clumsily slipped himself into it. Iceman tried to make some space for him, but there wasn't much. Maverick didn't seem to want some anyway. He cuddled against Ice's torso and stood still. Quite surprised first, Ice told himself that there wasn't much to be understood – he was fucking drunk. He put the blanket over them and passed an arm around him.
"Feeling okay?" he asked.
"I s'pose."
"You don't know many things tonight, Mitchell, do you…"
But he had already fallen asleep.
As for Iceman, as hard as he tried, he couldn't fall back asleep. He couldn't just ignore the feeling of Maverick cuddled tight against him, or the fact that his lips were only a few inches away from his'. A few times, he got closer until he almost touched them, and drew back slowly, afraid that he might wake up. After a few hours, tired of having to hold his legs straight because Maverick's were folded, he slid one of his between Mav's, really slowly, watching his every breath, making sure that they didn't change rhythm or volume.
A few times, the hand behind Maverick's back came brushing his neck and the base of his hair.
Sometimes, Maverick shifted in his sleep, pressing harder against Ice, clenching his fists against his torso. Ice gulped uneasily – he silently cursed Maverick for being there, not even being conscious that he was torturing him, or how much he was torturing him. He was asleep, sleeping a drunk man's sleep… easy, with no concerns. But what would happen when they'd wake up? Probably Mav wouldn't even be sober then… but at some point, he'd have to realize.
Iceman wasn't sure whether Maverick felt the same way as he did. But the way he had hugged him on the deck… and the way he had came tonight. He knew that Maverick hadn't got any problem with being with men. At least that's what he'd heard. He hoped it could be as easy for him… he'd been close to men before, but always got scared at some point. Only, this time, he knew there'd be no such easy escape as getting scared. What he felt for Maverick was too strong.
He got lost in his thoughts, and never fell asleep. He listened to the distant waves, muffled by layers and layers of metal. He heard people walking in the corridors above, people talking a few cabins away. He assumed it was around 0600. They didn't have to get up early, they were allowed a day of rest.
