Work Text:
Mav sets his pen down to stretch his fingers, reaches out to thumb through the papers still waiting for him, glances at the clock, and sighs. Not even five minutes have passed since the last time he checked.
It’s not really like the time matters anyway. He should be responsible and finish all of his paperwork even if it means he stays here later than he technically needs to. It’s just that it’s really, really boring and exhausting.
Though to be fair, everything has been exhausting lately. It’s not only the paperwork’s fault, it’s the cursed date coming around the corner too, but he’s more than willing to pretend.
Still, instead of dragging his eyes back down to the half filled out form in front of him, he looks out of the window at the sun inching towards the horizon.
He wishes he could go back to three hours ago, back to chasing students up in that beautiful sky. They’ve been getting better, like every batch that comes through, as they creep up on the halfway point, by which it’s usually pretty clear who actually has a shot at the trophy and who just can’t keep up. That’s also when the final bets are put in, but Mav doesn’t think he’ll be changing his. He’s pretty confident he’s put his money on the winning pair right at the start this time.
A soft knock at the door pulls him away from his distraction, and he can’t help but smile when he sees Ice standing there, peeking into his office.
They’ve gotten closer since Ice saved his ass a year ago, since he saved Ice’s life, since Goose got better enough to leave the hospital and continue recovering at home, and the two of them were left in Miramar really only with each other.
Mav wasn’t exactly happy about it at first but looking back, he wouldn’t trade. Ice can keep up with him like no one in a plane, effortlessly, and having another person on his side, one who knows about his wings, who understands it all, has made many things a lot easier.
“Hey,” Ice says lightly, a smile pulling on his lips too. It took him a while, but he has eventually learned to relax during work hours, and Mav is shameless enough to take most of the credit for that.
He nods back easily. “Hey. You need anything?”
Ice shakes his head as he steps inside, shuts the door and says, very casually, “The sky’s nice today. No wind.”
Mav closes his eyes with a groan. “No,” he protests. “Not today, no way, Ice. I’m too damn tired.”
Ice lifts an eyebrow and, annoyingly predictably, doesn’t let it go. “I saw you practically jump out of the plane, and you’ve been sitting on your ass for the past three hours.”
He never lets this shit go, and it’s all Goose’s fault. Mav could guide Ice through the preening he needs but he wasn’t too eager to explain the rest of it, and Goose made sure to make up for it when he finally could, thoroughly. And since he can’t be here himself to make sure Mav keeps up with his exercises, Ice has taken over that duty and he’s been just as serious about it. If not even more, because Goose could sometimes be talked out of it, if Mav looked at him pitifully enough.
“I’ve been sitting on my ass doing paperwork,” he tries to appeal to Ice, even though he knows it’s hopeless. “I swear this thing is cursed to drain the life out of me.”
Predictably, Ice only looks amused by the attempt. “You know, it’s really not that hard.”
“Maybe for you,” Mav huffs. “I bet you even enjoy this… twisted form of torture.”
“Sure, Mav,” Ice snorts, shaking his head. But then he lets out an exaggerated sigh, and Mav has to fight back a grin. “Fine. I’ll help you, since you asked so nicely.”
Getting done sooner no doubt means he’ll have zero chance of avoiding stretching his wings. But it also means getting done sooner.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, and with a chuckle, Ice lets him know he did not miss the reluctancy in it.
It turns out that when Ice said help, he meant mostly criticizing Mav’s organization system, or the lack of it, more accurately. Mav very unenthusiastically gets back to working on the form in front of him while Ice starts going through the stack still needing to be filled out and every few papers, he says something, like he just can’t help himself.
Apparently, a couple of the forms aren’t due for another week, so Ice sets those aside. Some of them just need a signature and he slides those right under Mav’s hand, so he can do just that in less than five seconds, and there’s even one that “is already done, for fuck’s sake, Mav.”
Somehow, Ice turns the stack into one singular form that’s about today’s Hop and takes only a couple minutes to fill out. When Mav puts that one away with a relieved sigh, he carefully looks up at Ice. “Are you by chance so pissed off at my lack of organization skills that you don’t want to see me until tomorrow?”
Ice snorts, and reaches out to pat his shoulder. “Tough luck, Lieutenant. Get your ass up and your wings out.”
Mav doesn’t actually spread his wings out right there in his office. He never willingly would and Ice knows that, so he’s more than satisfied with Mav giving up on protesting and following him outside, behind the hangar, where they both know no one will be at this time of the day.
Mav takes in the truly beautiful sunset reflecting on the sea surface, but his eyes don’t linger for too long on the water, in case the waves wash up the still too vivid memories.
“So,” he clears his throat, “got any exercises prepared, Lieutenant Commander?” He’s joking but Ice really is a good teacher like that, not only with how easily he can make their students hang on his every word, but also with some innovative lesson plans, and he’s a great wingman to make up Hop strategies with.
Even if he shuts down some of Mav’s wilder, but really good, ideas a little too harshly.
“Maybe.” Ice shrugs as they come to a stop. “Show me what you’ve got first.”
What Mav’s got these days is notably better than what he had only a year ago. His wings have grown to match the length of his arms and when he takes them out, they instinctively stretch out the extra inch they can. He still rarely nails it on the first try, but two beats are usually enough to get him in the air and once his feet peel off the ground, it’s easier to stay there and even feel steady.
He flaps his wings again, gets a couple inches higher, and looks at Ice, delighted to see that he’s far enough from the ground to be taller than him.
Ice smiles up at him and tilts his head. “Think you can go high?”
“No way.” Mav immediately shakes his head, making him lose focus for a second and drop down an inch. “No. I’ll break a leg.”
Flying up is less about the height for him and more about the distance from the ground. He’d never admit that he doesn’t trust himself, though he’s sure Goose and Ice have figured it out anyway, but he’s terrified that his wings could still be as unreliable as they used to.
“But do you want to?”
Mav lands, harsher on his feet than he can be these days. “Ice-”
“What if I go with you?”
Wings pulled tight to his body protectively, Mav pauses. He looks at Ice, at the familiar determined clench of his jaw, and considers him against the clear sky high above them. Slowly, he breathes out and lets his wings relax again. “That’s the plan, huh?”
Ice nods, as confident as every time he climbs into the cockpit. “If you’re up for it.”
Mav swallows. “You’ll go with me?”
“I’ll be right next to you the whole time.”
It’s hard to tell Ice no when he’s like this, looking at Mav like he has full faith in him. It makes it easier to push the fear aside and let himself be convinced, and one nod is all Ice needs to roll his shoulders back and spread his wings out.
The dye is peeling off of them so much that the brown streaks on Ice’s primaries are almost entirely uncovered, a clear sign that he hasn’t been as meticulous with it lately. Mav knows he’s been trying not to, trying to learn not to care, but the anxiety still gets to him sometimes, and when he doesn’t show his wings for a couple days, Mav doesn’t need to ask why.
He knows he needs to break into his wingman’s place with the spare key under the mat, and steal the freshly opened dye from above his bathroom sink. And he does just that, always, without a fail.
Ice flaps his wings, more playful than anything, creating a light breeze that ruffles Mav’s primaries. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Mav nods again, familiar determination rising in him too, and when Ice returns the gesture, he beats his wings twice to get back in the air.
Just like Ice promised, he matches him every step of the way. He never goes ahead or stays too far behind, and even though it has to take a lot of focus to control his massive wings and keep Mav’s slow pace, he doesn’t let it show.
Mav barely looks away from him. He glances at the sunset while it’s in his direct line of view, and occasionally at the sky around them, but he mostly stays focused on Ice, his beautiful wings, his hair fluttering in the wind, his encouraging smile.
He doesn’t realize how high they are until he flaps his wings, and there’s not enough strength in the movement for him to go anywhere. It rips him out of his rhythm and makes him drop in the panic, barely an inch, barely for a second before he beats his wings harder and recovers it, but in that blink of an eye, Ice manages to catch him. A hand grips his forearm, an arm wraps around his waist.
Mav instinctively puts a hand on Ice's shoulder to steady himself. His wings hurt now, he’s slowly becoming more and more aware of it, of his exhausted muscles, and that’s why he doesn’t rush to pull away from Ice. He lets his wings relax, gives them the break they’re begging for, and lets himself catch his breath.
He thinks he’s got it, but that’s when he makes the mistake of looking down and his fingers immediately sink into Ice’s shirt. “Don’t let go,” he gasps, the panic slamming back into him.
Fuck, he’s as high as the hangar.
“I’ve got you,” Ice assures him, gripping him tighter. “I’ve got you, Mav. That was good, you did great.”
“Can we just-” he chokes, has to force himself to look up again. “Can we just stay here for a moment?”
“Of course. As long as you want.”
Mav gives a silent nod and sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm down. He doesn’t want to go back down freaking out, he wants to remember the view more than that, but he needs to get over the panic first.
He tries to shift his focus, on Ice’s white feathers illuminated by the late evening sun, their brown streaks that he can see over Ice’s shoulders, the gentle breeze the movement of Ice’s wings sends into his own primaries.
When he braves a glance at the ground again, his breath only stutters a little. The next inhale comes easier to him, and he looks back at Ice as he releases his grip on his shoulder. He beats his tired wings once, twice, three times, until he’s sure he’s staying up by his own strength, and starts slowly pulling away.
Ice lets him go easily, his arm dropping to his side, but Mav catches his hand before it can fall away from his wrist. “Don’t let go,” he says again, though he sounds a little calmer now, and Ice’s steady grip immediately returns.
“Of course.”
“Let’s go back down,” Mav decides. “Slow.”
Ice nods. “I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t let go for a second until Mav has both feet firmly on the ground. And then Mav doesn’t let go of him, because he can’t help himself but to stumble forward and put his arms around Ice’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he chokes out. “That was- thank you.”
Ice’s arms carefully slip around his waist, only barely brushing his feathers, and Mav can’t put it all into words, how much this means, how much all of it means, especially this week, he doesn’t know where to even begin trying.
But he knows he doesn’t have to when Ice holds him tight and says, “Any time, Mav. Anything.”