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Chapter Text

“Mitchell! Kazansky! Do your post-flight safety checks and get your butts down here!” Viper is furious with his star pilots and he doesn’t care who knows it. He’s not sure how many times he’s warned them about listening to orders instead of taking it upon themselves to do what they damn well please. They were already in the air when he heard about them breaking ranks to save Bullseye against two bandits out on the hop he was on. Maverick and Iceman were meant to be resting at that point, conserving energy before Mike sends them out on an even more classified mission. The fools just had to do what they wanted, he thinks darkly, glaring in their direction and waiting with as much patience as he can summon.

Even through the cockpit, Mav hears it. Judging by the way Ice tenses in the fighter jet beside him and knows his wingman heard it too. Hell, he’s sure the whole carrier’s just heard the summon. Damn, he thinks with a wince, Viper doesn’t sound happy. Worse, he doesn’t look happy and Viper’s about the only Commander around here who manages to stay calm and unfazed over Maverick’s exploits. Damn.

Both of the younger pilots hurry to obey the order from their Commander, shooting surreptitious glances at one another as they try to gauge the extent to which he’s pissed off with them. As they clamber down the ladders leaning against their respective aircrafts, Ice levels Mav with a look. “Let me do the talking.”

“What? Viper loves me. Come on, Ice, I can talk him round.” Mav smirks, shoving his Aviators up his nose.

“Round to busting our butts, maybe. I like being able to sit even if you don’t, you idiot.”

“You didn’t think I was an idiot when I suggested we save that mission…” Mav retorts, rolling his eyes. He’s used to Ice getting prickly with him. He’s more worried when the other pilot isn’t riding his ass, because that usually means Ice is actually pissed off. Ice worries when Maverick’s quiet, but for entirely different reasons.

“Gentlemen, move your butts unless you want to have this discussion here!”

The reminder of the lecture waiting for them is enough to get them both moving in Viper’s direction. He stands there, hands on his hips and his brows raised in warning. “Are you out of your damn minds?” He scolds when they’re close enough to be heard without him wearing his voice out yelling at them. He plans to wear something alright, but it won’t be himself.

It takes them another minute, but then he has two wary lieutenants lining up in front of him –Ice with perfect posture, eyes facing straight ahead while Mav stands less at attention but not quite at ease, eyes wide– and waiting for him to speak. “You two get lost on your way to the mess hall?” he asks with more patience than he feels. “Because I don’t remember telling you to commandeer two planes or to put yourselves into a dogfight.”

“Technically they’re–”

“Shut up, Mav,” Ice hisses, breaking position for a moment to elbow his wingman. “We’re sorry, sir. Bullseye needed help.”

“Bullseye had back up out there. We had a plan and it was a good one. You two had about as much of a plan as a moth near a damn flame. I don’t care whose idea it was, you don’t steal Navy property so you can chase glory. Not on my watch.” He pauses, draws in a breath, and then continues in a low tone the other men won’t hear, “Both of you, take yourselves to my office and find a corner. Mitchell, take that ratchet strap with you.”

“Why?”

Viper narrows his eyes at the tone. “Because I’m going to wear your butts out with it. Perhaps you two hard heads will finally learn a lesson about following orders.”

“Sir,” Ice interrupts, trying to do damage control before Maverick uses his ability to make everything worse to get them both in more shit with the Top Gun instructor scrutinising them. “With all due respect, we did save his life.”

“Kasansky, you did a very brave thing out there. It was also a very stupid thing. We had no way of knowing what you were doing. Do you know what that means?”

“I…” Ice trails off, swallowing hard. “No, sir. I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“It means that if anything had happened to you, I couldn’t have had men in the air to help you in trouble. It means you could have been killed in action without anyone able to be stood up.”

“It was worth it, sir. I won’t apologise for helping a man.” Maverick’s found his voice again. His posture’s improved, he’s staring straight at Viper, daring to hold the man’s gaze. Ice almost groans. Almost. Why can’t Mav ever just leave well enough alone?

“Mitchell, you seem to be under the impression that your butt is safe because there are men around. It isn’t. There are moments in a man’s life where he has a choice to make. Right now, you have a choice to make about whether you do as you’re told or you get your butt roasted in front of all these pilots. You do what you need to, Lieutenant, and so will I.”

Ice closes his eyes for a few seconds, breathes through his nose, and looks between his commander and his wingman in disbelief. “Sir, that’s unreasonable.”

“Disobedience at your level is unreasonable, Mr Kasansky. Having a good record and a load of potential doesn’t make you exempt from listening. You two are good pilots but you’re getting cocky with it, more so than usual.” When Ice opens his mouth to protest, Viper holds up a hand to silence him. “I suggest your next words are ‘yes sir’ or ‘yes Commander” or you’ll find out what happens if you push me too far.” He raises his eyebrows and two faces colour under his gaze.

Ice averts his gaze first but Maverick only takes another second. They’re well aware of what happens when they push Mike too far. They don’t need a demonstration of his resolve. Viper lets the silence hang heavily, ignoring the men awkwardly trying not to listen to what’s happening in the hanger. “Try again, gentlemen. Maverick, take that ratchet strap with you and both of you get your butts along to my office. I expect to find you waiting in separate corners –at attention– when I get there. Get moving.”

For a minute, they consider rebellion but then they’re moving. Ice waits long enough for Mav to reluctantly retrieve the ratchet strap laying bundled on the floor. He’s surprised to notice it’s broken, the edge frayed about a third along it. Its length is probably only a meter anyway. That makes sense, it seems like it will be much less unwieldy given its shorter-than-standard length. They make it into the narrow corridor before Ice speaks. “I can’t believe I ever listen to you and your stupid ideas, Maverick. Jesus, I must be an idiot.”

“My stupid ideas? You led the way into the damn F-18s this time. You were the one telling me Bullseye needed us,” Maverick retorts, jostling Ice with a scowl.

“You told me Viper gave the okay!” Ice snaps, the words clipped in his frustration.

“I thought he would…” Mav mutters, picking at the frayed thread of the ratchet strap in his hand. “It’s not my fault he has a stick up his ass.”

“Did you actually ask him, Mitchell?”

“Not exactly,” Mav admits and he almost sounds sheepish. It’s a surprise to both of them.

Ice narrows his eyes. He knows that tone. “What did you do?” He asks suspiciously, resigned to paying the price for one of Mitchell’s idiotic ideas.

“I, uh, look, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” the younger pilot defends, hands rising in a shrug. It looks ridiculous with the makeshift strap dangling between them. At Ice’s narrowed eyes, he blows out a breath and groans. “I left him a note.”

“You… what?” Ice can only stare. Even by Maverick’s standards, that was dumb. “Are you out of your mind?”

“We were in a rush!” Maverick shoots Ice a pleading look, desperate for his wingman to understand.

“Shit, Mav. Do you think anything through? No wonder he’s going to wear us out.” Ice groans, shoving his hand through his usually immaculate hair in frustration. “If he doesn’t kill you, I will.”

“Oh come on, Ice, he’s not really going to use this…” Mav holds the ratchet strap up, rolling his eyes. “He was just proving a point.”

“I’m going to prove a point tonight,” Ice announces, a glint in his eye that Maverick is only familiar with when he’s shooting down bandits. Before he can say anything else, Ice gives him a shove forward. “Come on, I don’t want to find out what happens if we don’t get our asses to his office.”

They pick up the pace, letting themselves into Viper’s cramped office and looking around uselessly for a corner. Maverick frowns. “Uh, how does he think we’re going to–-Ice!”

“You need to learn when to shut up, Maverick,” Ice informs him as he tows him to the obvious corner near the door by the collar of his flight suit. “No, you can hold onto that. Maybe it will make you actually think instead of just doing dumb shit for a change.”

Maverick shoots Ice an incredulous look that turns wounded at the sharp look he gets in response. “Alright, alright. Jesus, Ice…”

Ice turns away, eyes scanning the room in search of his own corner, and Maverick can’t help himself. His mouth moves faster than his brain. “It’s not like it’s all my fault, Ice. You’re not pinning it all on me.”

“You lied to me, Mitchell.”

“You didn’t rush to the bridge to ask him, don’t be such a hypocrite.”

Ice pinches the bridge of his nose and focuses on finding the self-control he prides himself on. “Maverick, stop talking before I warm you up for Viper.”

Mav makes an indignant sound but his mouth does audibly snap shut. Ice almost breathes a sign of relief as he moves across the room to the other mostly empty corner. He has to shift some furniture to pretzel himself into the space and he stands there with his posture perfect, eyes fixed on the metal frame of the carrier. He hopes that by the time Viper arrives, they’ll have a good explanation between them but he’s not optimistic.

The room’s quiet when Viper finally makes it along to deal with them, the constant bureaucracy of being on mission dragging him away longer than he’d expected. He pauses in the doorway, arms folded, and watches the men shifting awkwardly for a moment in silence. It’s been a long day and Viper wants nothing more than to rest his eyes for a while but the day’s far from done. He sighs to himself and steps into the office, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Alright, gentlemen, get your butts over here,” he decides, leaning against the desk and crossing his feet at the ankles. He’s a little surprised the ratchet strap hasn’t been abandoned on his desk and for a brief moment he fears he’ll have to teach Maverick an additional lesson, but is pleasantly surprised when Mitchell turns from the corner with the strap gripped in his hands tightly. Viper doesn’t miss the wary glance Mitchell shoots in Kasansky’s direction and tucks it away to dwell on later. He has a feeling something’s happened between them but that’s not his priority now.

When they arrive in front of him he hums, brows raised. “Alright, you two have anything to say for yourself? And spare me the bullshit. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Again, Maverick glances at Iceman warily, seemingly letting him take the lead. Viper tries not to look shocked by this turn of events; Maverick doesn’t listen to anyone. At least, he never has before. He makes a mental note to ask Iceman what’s going on between them after he finishes wearing them out. For now he settles for offering Kasansky an expectant look. It’s no surprise to him that Ice shakes his head. “No sir, other than we’re sorry. I agree with Maverick that I’m not sorry for helping a brother and Bullseye’s family. I regret not asking you for permission, sir.”

“I’d appreciate you doing that in future, Kasansky, if you feel so inclined.” Viper feels his moustache twitch. “I’ll do my best to give you reason to remember in future.” He pushes to his feet and holds out a hand for the ratched strap. “Hand that over and drop the flight suit, Mitchell. Kasansky, you too. Seems fitting for you to face the consequences of your actions together after breaking rank together.”

Neither pilot looks happy but they both seem to realise pretty quickly that he has no intentions of changing his mind. “Whenever you’re ready,” he prompted, allowing a little sarcasm to creep into his voice. “I have all day, but I’ll add extra for every damn minute I wait.”

That gets them moving. Mitchell thrusts the strap at him looking like it might bite him. Well, Viper thinks in amusement, it will. Somewhere, anyway. He nods in approval and steps away from the desk, giving them room to unzip their flight suits and drag them down to bunch around their knees. They bend over in unison, Ice’s hands flat on the desk as he braces on his elbows while Maverick immediately buries his face into his folded arms. They need a damn shower, the adrenaline and heat of their cramped cockpits have caused them to sweat which wouldn’t be so bad if the sweat hadn’t already dried. He’ll send ‘em there next. It takes him a minute to successfully double-fold the strap so that he can wield it without actually hurting them. Iceman is virtually still as a stone statue while he waits, while Maverick is shifting on the balls of his feet nervously. Viper has to smile that there are so many contrasts between them and yet here they are, butts over his desk to be worn out and for the same crime. These two are a walking conundrum.

He shakes himself from his thoughts and steps up behind them, taking aim before swinging the strap down against Ice’s butt first, earning himself a surprised grunt. The strap lands against the fullest part of Mav’s backside next. Viper settles into a rhythm, bringing it down with precision as they squirm –in Mitchell’s case– and try to control their breathing –in Kasansky’s– doing whatever they can to get through the ordeal with some dignity. Viper lets them have that. He’s not here to break their spirits, just to try and get them to use all that brainpower and natural instinct for once.

Even through the white briefs he can see the colour blossoming and the heat is radiating off their butts. Sitting in the mess hall won’t be a comfortable experience for either of them tonight. He doesn’t feel much sympathy; they made their choices, they can deal with the consequences. A sore butt never killed anyone, least of all these stubborn, cocky young men.

He keeps up with stripe after stripe until he hears Kasansky’s breathing change. Maverick’s been hollering since the second stripe, he’s hardly a reliable source of information. Ice on the hand, will stay quiet longer than he needs to. Viper seeks out the middle ground, especially when he has ‘em side by side. Maverick’s volume decreases while Iceman’s increases, so he takes that as his sign. “Gentlemen, rules exist for a reason. The chain of command exists for a reason. When you disregard those things, you put lives at risk. Not just your own, but those of others too. I don’t want to have this conversation again, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” Ice agrees quickly, voice strained.

Maverick grunts and squirms but follows suit. “Ah—yes sir!” He stammers.

Viper nods to himself. “Wanting to protect your team is admirable. Next time, if you have a real and genuine suggestion, you come and talk to me and maybe we can avoid you having your butts thoroughly busted. How does that sound?”

They manage their, "Very good, sir!” in unison, drawing a smirk from him. He hums. “I’m glad to hear it, and I hope you hear me when I say I will do this again next time you disobey orders.”

With that, he swings the makeshift strap down sharply against their trembling backsides, landing three blazing stripes across both sets of sit spots, complimented by two across their thighs. They yelp( arms trembling with the effort of holding still.

Then it’s over and he steps back and releases the breath he didn’t realise he was holding and rolls the ratchet strap into a tight coil. “Alright, you can get up when you’re ready. Take a minute, breathe, and then fix your flight suits.”

He moves around the desk to slide the strap into the top drawer, raising his eyebrows at the indignant sound Mitchell makes. “Problem, son?”

Maverick looks like he’ll argue Iceman twists to offer him a warning look, shaking his head. After a moment, the shorter of the two sighs and shakes his head. “No sir…” he mutters, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor as he shrugs back into his flight suit.

Viper nods. “Go ahead and hit the showers then. God knows you need it.”

Maverick escapes as fast as he can, Ice following more sedately. When he reaches the door, Viper clears his throat. “Kasansky, come and find me when you’re finished cleaning up. I’d like a word.”

The younger man looks worried but he nods brusquely. “Yes sir,” he acknowledges quietly.

Viper chuckles. “No need to look so scared, Lieutenant. I just want to talk.”

“Oh.” Ice looks surprised but he visibly relaxes. “Of course, sir. Won’t be long.”

He waves a hand, dismissing the unspoken promise to hurry. “You take the time you need, Kasansky. I’ve got nowhere to be. Go on, get out of here before your wingman finds more trouble.”

Ice offers him a long suffering look but salutes, eyes widening a fraction as he hears a sound down the hallway. “Jesus,” he mutters and then he’s gone, footsteps fast as they retreat down the hall. Viper shakes his head in amusement and sighs, leaning back against his seat and enjoying the quiet. In a minute he’ll find some of the God-awful coffee they have around here but for the moment he’s content to hide and mull over the conversation to come.

Chapter Text

True to his word, Ice seeks out Viper less than an hour later. He’s sure he looks less like shit than he had on his last visit, and he sure as hell feels more human. His ass is still throbbing but his misadventure with Maverick was never going to end any other way.

His instinct is to berate himself; he knows what Mav’s like and he should have done a better job of refusing to be drawn into the chaos. The thing is, he knows, Maverick would do it anyway. His wingman’s so hellbent on chasing the next thrill, on finding the next adrenaline rush, that sometimes the best thing Ice can do is damage limitation. That’s what he did today, although he wishes he’d known all the facts. He would have at least appreciated having all the information so he could make a decision about whether it was worth his ass being worn out with more patrols to fly before they reach land again.

He knows deep down that he still would have gone though. Maverick’s always been able to bring that reckless edge out in him, the only pilot in a sea of wingmen who can drag Ice down from his perfectionist perch. Nobody else is cocky enough to grind his gears that much. This isn’t about them breaking the rules, it’s about the fact they need to trust each other. It’s about the fact Mitchell knew what he was doing when he left out the fact he was asking for forgiveness not permission. Besides, this has been simmering between them for a while. Ice isn’t sure what it might look like, but he knows that his palm itches with the need to spank Maverick on an almost daily occurrence. He didn’t mean to make his announcement earlier, but he knows that it’s something he wants deeply. Judging by Mav’s face, his wingman feels equally enthusiastic.

Viper’s door is ajar when Ice arrives so he knocks lightly and lets himself in, closing the door behind him at his Commander’s behest. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sir.”

“You’re fine, Lieutenant. Take a seat, I wanted a word with you.” Ice grimaces, shooting a skeptical look in the direction of the chair opposite the desk. “Happy to stand, sir.”

“I’m sure. I don’t remember telling you to stand, son. Sit your ass down.”

Ice’s nod is jerky as he reluctantly slides into the chair Viper gestures towards, breathing through his nose for a moment until the throbbing ache in his ass settles. “You wanted to speak, sir.”

“I did. Seems to me something’s changed between yourself and Lieutenant Mitchell. I wanted to check in.”

Ice stares down at his hands for a minute as he searches for the right words. “I thought he’d asked you before we went out to assist Bullseye,” he admits eventually. “I sent him to find you.”

Viper leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I see. Would it have changed anything?”

“No, sir.” Ice is self aware enough to be straight about that. “But I don’t appreciate being lied to. Maverick and I are wingmen, sir. We need to be able to trust each other out there. Lives depend on it.”

Apparently that satisfies Viper who nods his agreement. “What are you going to do about that, Kazansky?

“Sir?” The question catches him by surprise and he looks up at Viper in confusion, fumbling as he tries to come up with an answer.

“He lied to you, kept secrets from you and if I know Mitchell at all, he probably didn’t feel an ounce of regret over it. You let that go, he’s gonna think it’s acceptable, and he’s gonna do it again.” Viper pauses. “There are times in a man’s life where he comes to a crossroads, son. Right now, you’re at a crossroads. The way I see it, you can bust his butt now, or you can spend your life being dragged into trouble you didn’t ask for.”

“Sir, you said I wasn’t ready.” Ice frowns, thinking back on the conversation they’d had a few months before.

“I told you to ask again when you hadn’t just been paddled right there with him,” Viper corrects with a roll of his eyes. He leans forwards. “And while you haven’t succeeded there, Iceman, I do take your point that you didn’t have the facts. You want to know what I think?”

Ice nods immediately, meeting his commanding officer’s eye. “Please, sir. He listens to you more than anyone.”

Viper snorts. “That’s not saying much. Maverick doesn’t seem to listen to anyone all that much.” He shakes his head in amusement and sighs. “Mitchell needs a firm hand. He has to know where the lines are and what he can expect when he runs over them. You say he listens to me and he does. That’s because he knows that when he messes up, his butt will answer for it. What does he expect from you when he screws around, Kasansky?”

“We’re teammates, sir…”

“Come on, now. I wasn’t born yesterday, Kazansky. That’s not all you two are. I don’t give a damn what you are as long as it doesn’t interfere with the job.” Viper opens the top drawer, pulling out a paddle that Ice is painfully familiar with and sets it on the desk. He raises his eyebrows. “Think you’ll need this?”

“I don’t know, sir. I thought my hand might do the job tonight.”

“Alright. You just let me know if you change your mind. But Iceman?”

“Sir?”

“Don’t think this means I won’t still bust his butt for him when he needs it, or yours for that matter. You still answer to me when you screw up.”

“Understood, sir.” Ice nods. He doesn’t expect anything less. “What if I mess it up?”

“Well, you’ll answer to me for that too.” Viper shrugs, making no secret of the fact he has a soft spot for Maverick, despite all the trouble he brings with him on any given day of the week. “But I think you’ll do fine. Hell, might even help you learn a lesson too, sitting on your sore butt to give him a sore butt. Feels like justice to me. Go on, get your butt out of here. Make sure you’re in the mess hall at dinner, you don’t want me to come looking for you gentlemen.”

Ice nods and stands, offering Viper a salute before he takes his leave, running a hand through his hair as he considers Viper’s words. Perhaps the paddle would make his job easier, but he thinks he wants the satisfaction of seeing his handprints leaving marks on Mav’s ass. It’ll serve him right for trying to be smart about keeping things from Ice.

Maverick does his best to avoid Ice for the next few hours. He’s not in their room when Ice returns, though his towel is laying in a messy heap on the floor, along with his dirty laundry. Ice feels his jaw clench at the sight of it. He knows Mav’s baiting him, and damn it, it’s working. He starts to tidy up the mess before he’s stopping himself, eyes narrowed. No, he thinks to himself. That’s part of the game for Mav. He’s not letting him win this round, not with Viper’s words rattling around his head.

Ice drops the towel back to the floor, grimacing at the wet thud as it hits the floor beside Mav’s bunk before pushing his way back out of the door to their small bunk room, glad that their not running with a full crew on this mission or he’d be explaining the mess to whatever unfortunate pilot was stuck bunking with them.

It doesn’t take him long to make his way through the carrier until he reaches the mess hall, where Maverick’s holding court around the pool table. The other man registers his entrance, tensing for a few seconds before he’s cracking another joke. They both know nobody else in the room will have clocked his reaction, but it brings a smirk to Ice’s face. He strides over. “Room for one more?”

Mav meets his eyes. “That depends, Ice. Ready to lose?”

“What’s the wager?”

“You lose, you clean up the mess hall for me.”

“Deal.”

“Alright, if you win?” Mav raises an eyebrow at Ice, rolling his eyes when Ice leans in close. “I add to your spanking,” he murmurs, grinning when Mav blushes and looks away.

“Not happening, jackass.”

“Oh, it is. Maybe if I win it can happen right here, where you can’t hide from me again.”

“You call this hiding?” Mav scoffs, settling a hand on Ice’s chest and nudging him back a step. “If I was hiding, you wouldn’t find me. I don’t hide, I’m not a coward.”

“Then let’s go.”

“I got a game to win, Iceman. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Maverick, move your ass.” Ice takes the pool cue from him, shoving it at one of the younger officers watching warily.

“Viper asked me to pass on a message to Maverick here, deal us into the next game,” he says, eyes never leaving Mav’s face. He can see the blush creeping up around Pete’s neck, edging towards the tips of his ears, but doesn’t comment. It’s touch or go whether Mav will concede or refuse.

He knows the minute Maverick accepts the inevitable, the line of his shoulders dropping a fraction as he offers the officer a grin. “Sorry, Ludwig. Duty calls. Keep that cue warm for me.”

“Maybe I’ll shove it up– shit! Iceman!” Ludwig looks at him indignantly as he rubs at the back of his skull where Ice has cuffed him.

“Watch your mouth, Ludwig. Maverick, let’s go.”

Ice takes off through the mess hall without waiting to see if Mav’s following. He doesn’t think the shorter pilot will be stupid enough to test him now, not with the risk of an audience for what Ice has promised him will happen. He doesn’t say anything until they arrive back at their cramped quarters. “In.” Ice tilts his head, waiting for Mav to reluctantly step inside with as wide a berth as he can manage in the confined space.

“Ice, come on man, we can talk about this.”

“We will, when you’re over my knee.”

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? Viper already paddled me within an inch of my life…”

“You’re like a cat, Mav, you’ve got at least nine lives. Or at least, your butt does.”

Mav rolls his eyes, face flushed. “Here’s an idea, how about we don’t test that theory?”

Ice snorts softly, taking a seat on the edge of his bunk while his hand circles Maverick’s wrist, guiding him closer. He spares a thought for his head, thinking he needs to be careful not to catch it on the frame of the bunk. Sometimes being tall isn’t an advantage for him. Maverick pulls at his wrist, looking like he wants to go in any direction but towards Ice. Ice catches his other wrist in answer, holding him in place and looking up at him. “I told you I was gonna teach you something about honesty, Mav. If you’d been honest, you wouldn’t be in trouble with me. We’re a team, I would have flown out there with you. You owed it to me to give me the facts. I don’t like being manipulated, not even by my cocky, hotshot wingman. Especially not my partner. Maybe you’ll remember this in future before you do something reckless and put us both in danger without good reason.”

With that, Ice pulls Maverick closer, holding both wrists in one hand while he unfastens and works down his uniform pants with the other. Maverick sputters, clearly embarrassed, but Ice doesn’t give him enough time to come up with a good argument. He has Maverick over his knee a few seconds later, body supported over his thighs with his hands turned towards the floor. “Ice! Ice, wait… Can’t we talk about this first?”

Ice settled his callused hand on Maverick’s backside, tracing the marks left behind by the ratchet strap earlier. “No.” He lets that sink in before bringing his hand down smartly, watching the already bright skin deepen in colour for a moment. Mav yelps, feet kicking up. Ice ignores it in favour of swatting him firmly, working methodically to reignite the barely simmered fire across every inch of exposed skin. He doesn’t think it’ll take much to make his point, not when Mav’s backside is already deep shade of pink, the skin bottle and lined with the beginnings of welts. Ice doesn’t even want to think about what state his own butt’s in. Judging by the way it’s throbbing in time with his heartbeat, he suspects it’s looking equally rough. It definitely feels like hell.

Maverick’s squirming, drumming his feet against the floor in a desperate attempt to appear unaffected, but Ice knows better. He knows this has to hurt like hell. “Next time you want me along for some harebrained idea, tell me the truth, Maverick. I’d have willingly been your wingman, but I deserve the respect of having the facts. You don’t get to make decisions for me. You sure as hell don’t get to manipulate me to get your own way. From now on, every time you do that, I’ll do this. Understand?”

“That’s–oww! Shit! Ice, please!”

“I said, do you understand me, Mitchell?”

“Ow! Yes! Fine, alright… Ice, I get it, let me up…”

“Not yet.” Ice raises his knee, zeroing in on his undercurve with the ice cold accuracy that earned him his call sign as a wet eared ensign. Sure, part of him feels bad –Maverick’s clearly not enjoying the experience– but then he remembers the danger they put themselves in breaking rank without even trying to do things properly. Ice doesn’t mind the risks, but he’s not about to throw their careers away over something stupidly reckless. Besides, if he’s honest with himself it feels like poetic justice to teach his partner a lesson. It’s no secret Maverick needs a firm hand, it feels good to flex those muscles.

Ice hears Maverick’s breathing change and realizes he’s losing the battle against soft tears. He hums, moving his focus a little to Maverick’s thighs, which are so far mostly untouched. Mav seems briefly grateful but it’s soon eclipsed by his dismay at the spanking not being over. Ice doesn’t drag it out, bringing up the colour at the top of his thighs before stopping, kneading the tender redness that is Mav’s backside, the tapestry of Ice’s handprints mixing with the strap marks where Viper was thorough with both of them earlier. Perhaps they can comfort one another later if nobody steals one of the other bunks in the room. He sighs softly, tracing a particularly fiery mark with his thumb when the kneading draws a strangled sound from Maverick. “Ready to come up?” he offers when Mav starts moving restlessly, all traces of his usual arrogance gone. He knows this will change things, he’s just not sure how much.

Mav nods, pushing to his feet on shaky legs. Ice lets him fix his clothes with shaky hands and then pulls Mav in against his torso, rubbing his back and squeezing him. “I’ve got you, Mav. You’re good. We’re good. Just breathe.”

He feels his headstrong wingman sigh against his shoulder, body melting into his own as Maverick lets himself soak up the comfort in silence. Neither of them speak for now –Ice thinks they won’t speak of this for a while, not until he forces Maverick too when he inevitably tries to spiral in his own head– and the quiet is nice. It doesn’t last long though, with Maverick it never does. The shorter pilot pulls back, rubbing at his face with his t-shirt. “You’re cleaning up after dinner whether you win or lose,” Mav mutters, shooting him a hangdog expression.

Ice just snorts, his grin shark-like as he raises his eyebrows at Mav. “Dream on, Maverick. You’re going down.”

“You wish.” Mav rolls his eyes. “Hey, better idea. You and me, against all of them. Think of the money we could get out of ‘em.”

Ice smirks as he stands. “You know, Maverick, that’s the best idea you’ve had all day. Wash your face and let’s go. We have some bets to win.”

And just like that, the ground beneath them feels steady again, worn and familiar despite everything that’s changed between them tonight. Ice thinks maybe he hasn’t messed it up after all, but he’s sure Viper will set him straight if he has.