The Warmth of Your Hand
Some brief moments and glimpses of figure skater Adrien Agreste's life growing up.
Birthday One-shot for the one, the only @qookyquiche!! Happy Birthday!!!! hope you had a fabulous birthday and that you rocked your presentation!!
(ao3 link)
She asked for it, and for some reason I made it a figure skating//hockey AU BECAUSE OF REASONS – but here you are my dear: A Childhood Friends AU (seriously tho, look at her cute childhood fluff art, LOOK AT ALL HER ART!!! ITS AMAZING!!)
Also this falls into Adrienette month, so I’m tagging it as a late day 12 prompt!! Enjoy!
Adrien couldn’t remember the first time he walked. Sure his parents had shown him the pictures and the slightly out of focus videos of him as a toddler taking his first steps, but he was much too young to remember such events.
The first time he placed his foot on this ice, though, well that he remembered.
When he stepped on the ice, for that first time, his small mitten-clad hand was held firmly in the warm caress of his mother’s. She stared down at him with a bright beaming smile as together they caught their balance on the slippery rink surface.
Of course they also had video of this too. His father had watched from the stands, recording the whole adventure as Adrien clutched onto his mother for dear life. She skated backwards with ease, her two hands holding Adrien’s as she pulled him along, taking them both gliding across the ice. In the video footage you could hear Gabriel’s deep, soft laugh as he watched his wife and son clumsily make their way around.
Years, later watching those videos were one of the few pieces Adrien would have left of the family he once had. One where his mother was there, holding his hand and his father was present and smiling.
It wasn’t until his third lesson that he met her.
Well, not so much met her as collided with her.
He had gotten to the rink early that day meaning he was the first to get on the ice, as he usually was. His mother was up in the stands smiling as he warmed up.
But despite his skills, he was still somewhat hesitant about the whole ordeal. He was so used to having someone’s hand steadying him, and it made him anxious to drift too close to center ice. So there he was, hand still tentatively grazing the boards of the ice’s perimeter, ready to stop himself or use the solid walls as leverage should he need help to stop.
Then suddenly a whoosh of air past by him, he looked up to see a small figure sped past him a light giggle filling the air behind her as she glided around the ice.
Eyes wide Adrien tracked her as she easily completed a lap in a third of the time it would take him. Clad in thick black leggings, a bright red tutu, and a pale pink jacket, the girl’s dark black hair was parted into cute pigtails, her bangs fluttering against the wind as she glided. She pushed off the ice forcefully, her arms swinging with great abandon. With each passing lap, her speed seemed to increase.
Adrien smiled watching her seem to let herself loose on the ice. She gave out a whoop of delight, pausing in her strokes to simply sail, her hands raised up to feel the breeze of her own momentum. Her eyes closed, looking at peace.
He didn’t even register that he was standing awestruck and still, directly in her path, until it was too late.
Both children released twin squawks as the girl crashed into him. In a pile of limbs, they feel onto the ice, sliding slightly on the slippery surface.
“Oh! Sorry!” the girl peeped, shifting her arm out from underneath him.
She quickly and easily got back onto her feet. Adrien himself was a little too shellshock to recover quite as quickly. He timidly got up to his knees, trying his best not to slip.
“Here,” said the girl, her voice drawing his eyes upwards.
She held out a hand, an offer of assistance.
“I’m – um,” the girl pouted her mouth, trying to find her words, “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t really watching where I was going… I guess… But here! Let me help you up!”
She reached forward with both hands held out in front of her.
Her gloves were mismatched. That’s what he remembered.
She wore a black glove with red polka dots, on one hand, while the one on her other hand was a shock of bright pink.
His eyes flickered, looking back and forth from her gloves and back up to her face.
Across her checks and nose, she had freckles. Her eyes were a beautiful blue and after another beat of silence, her brows creased, mouth pouting in confusion.
“Oh!” Adrien shook himself from the awe struck upon his face, “No! I’m sorry; I was in your way!”
He gladly placed his hands in hers and together they were able to haul him off the ice – although he had to admit it was mostly her doing.
“Ummmm… Thank you,” he said once he was rebalanced.
She smiled, her eyes closing in delight.
“It’s no problem!” she said, “Do you wanna skate with me?”
Adrien frowned, “I’m not as fast as you…”
Her head tilted to one side, a small smile still lingering on her face. “That's ok! I’ll race you next time. For now we can just practise!”
She held out a fist towards him and he stared at it with bewilderment. He held his hand out as if to shake, but he paused unsure.
She giggled. Together they both blushed.
Grabbing his hand with both of hers she brought his fingers together into a fist. Smiling wide she brought her own fist up to his and knocked against it gently.
“There!” she declared with a triumphant grin that Adrien couldn't help but share.
Together they started skating across the ice. She was obviously holding back, gently keeping pace with Adrien. But he didn't mind. He enjoyed the companionship… his own self-made friend.
“Oh!” She paused, slowing down, Adrien struggled to stop himself, and his legs shaking as he pushed on his outside edges. His arms flailed as he lost his balance again.
Before he fell backwards though, the girl grabbed his arm, steadying him.
“Oop! Sorry, I just… well I’m Marinette!” she smiled; one of her hands holding his arm released him to point towards herself. Her other hand remained at holding his arm just above his elbow, as if afraid he would fall if she let go.
“Adrien!” he almost shouted, “I mean! My name is Adrien.”
They shared a smile and her hand slipped down his arm to hold his hand.
At the same time they both spoke, “It’s nice to meet you!” Before they both broke out in laughter and continued their skating, gliding hand in hand. Eventually, they were joined by the rest of the students and the lesson began.
From the sidelines his mother snapped as many pictures as she could.
Over the first few weeks of lessons, he and Marinette became fast friends, in the way that only young children could manage. He quickly learnt that Marinette was not interested in figure skating, rather, that she wanted to be a hockey player. Her parents had told her though that in order to do so, she should build up a strong foundation of skating, hence the lessons.
She had been quite against the idea, since she already felt herself to be quite a strong skater and had ended up missing the first two lessons due to her own stubborn tantrums. But now it seemed that she seemed to be enjoying herself.
As it turned out, a lot of the children enrolled in the class were in the same boat: future hockey players.
Even Marinette’s father had taken figure skating up at a young age, which you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him. He was a large, giant man and Marinette spoke of his glory days as a hockey player often.
Likewise, Adrien was following in the path of his parent. His mother was quite a well-known figure skater before she had retired just before her marriage to his father. He grew up accompanying her to the ice rink, where she still trained on and off, sometimes consulting and coaching other skaters. Adrien would watch as they spun on the ice, twirling in lovely formations and leaping into the air.
He loved it.
But he still wasn’t nearly as good.
So he worked hard. Practicing and training daily, and receiving extra tutelage, until he got to resemble more and more how his mother danced on the ice.
Where he was grace, Marinette was strength.
And if anyone tried to make fun of Adrien for being one of the only boys who was there just to figure skate, Marinette was there to stick up for him.
He hadn’t touched the ice in weeks.
The only reason he was here was because he had promised her… but of course that was before…
Still, he had asked Natalie, and she arranged for his driver to take him, and he was at an arena, staring down at the ice from the stands. The glassy sheen off the surface matched the glaze across his green eyes. He sniffed at the cold air filling his lungs and quickly realized his mistake.
He wasn’t ready.
But before he could voice his concerns to his driver, the players took to the ice and he quickly recognized her pigtails peeking out from under her helmet.
And so he watched the game, he was quickly joined by her parents, who found him in the crowd, and for a short hour and a half he was distracted from his grief.
It wasn’t until a few months later that he put his skates back on. He had long ago learnt how to tie them for himself and he was more than old enough to do so. But he thought of his mother lacing them for him, of his father counting along with him as each crisscross and it made him sad.
He remembered his father’s deep laugh, them all holding hands and walking to the ice.
He sat there for a while, with just one skate on, until a knock on the door, shook him from his thoughts.
“Adrien?” she called softly, opening the door slightly, “Can I come in?”
“Mmm,” he replied.
She settled beside him, not saying anything for a long time. They simply sat there in silence.
Slowly, her hand reached for his, enveloping his hand in her gloved hand. This time her gloves matched, she had knitted them herself, a pale pink pair for herself and a pretty blue for him.
She leaned against his side, her head resting lightly on his shoulder.
“We don’t have to skate today,” she whispered, crosses her clunky skates out in front of them.
He huffed a slow, deep breath before replying with a soft, “Okay.”
He tilted his head, settling against her dark, black hair. She squeezed his hand as a tear streaked down his face.
“Besides,” she continued, “I’m still sore from that game last week… Did you see that hit I got?”
He chuckled.
“And the referee didn’t even call that!” she scoffed, still holding his hand, “I mean…? Really?”
He smiled, sniffling slightly. After a beat of silence, he replied, “Yeah, what the puck?”
She snorted, her hand squeezing his once more.
They sat there, giggling, until their tears of grief bleed into tears of laughter.
The next week he was back on the ice, holding her hand.
It was his first time back in Paris in years.
He glanced down at his phone, still no reply. But he automatically moved in the direction to their ice rink.
It had been about seven years since Adrien had moved to train overseas. He and Marinette had kept in contact over emails, messaging, and the rare phone call, but over the years things had gotten in the way. He was competing and constantly travelling and she eventually graduated school and was accepted to play hockey at a university in Canada. With their busy schedules and time zone differences, communication had become more and more scarce.
All this had culminated to today, where Adrien had returned for a quick offseason vacation, back to his hometown for a stay longer than a few days, while Marinette had returned home for her summer break.
They had planned on meeting at one of their favourite cafés from their younger years, but Adrien was just too excited. He quickly sent her a text that he was going back to their rink and if she was free, to join him.
Still with his small roller luggage and fresh off a 12-hr flight, he didn’t think to waste time stopping of at home, where he was sure no one would be there anyway. He had his skates; he was set.
He walked into the arena, making his way to deposit his bags into the locker room when he realized the ice was already occupied.
It looked like an impromptu game of hockey scrimmage; players all wearing various jerseys, some layered with bright red pinnies.
Adrien smiled, deciding to find a spot in the stands to watch, much like he did when he was younger, watching one of Marinette’s many winning games.
He glanced back down at his phone, checking to see if she had replied yet. No reply. He shrugged; she must be busy.
And so he watched the game, the players all seemed fairly good, seeming to have a good time but still make it a challenge for everyone. Adrien still couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the violence of some of the hits. Especially since some of the players weren’t wearing full protective gear.
One player in particular, who did have a cage covering their face, seemed to use the extra protection as an excuse to wipe the ice of every player that was on the opposite team. Clad in a red vest overtop their jersey and a black ‘C’ etched on in tape, the player skated quick across the ice, showcasing their stick and puck skills, easily weaving around the other team.
Adrien raised his eyebrows after the player scored their third straight goal, impressive.
Woah, he thought, clapping lightly as the player lunged into yet another celebratory pose, holding their hockey stick like a bow and miming the action of shooting arrows all around. That guy is really good.
And then, eventually the final whistle was blown; surprising Adrien at how fast the time had flown. He checked his watch. He may just have enough time to skate before he was set to meet up with Marinette. Which reminded him! He looked down at his phone, still no reply.
Sighing, Adrien glanced back at the ice, where the teams were lined up and pounding gloves together. He watched as most of the players relieved themselves of their helmets. And he gasped.
The player with in the red...
That was no guy. That was Marinette Dupain-Cheng!
She was older, but he could still recognize her, her blue eyes and dark black hair that shined blue in the evening light. But now instead of being held back into her signature pigtails, her hair was cut short, possibly shorter than Adrien’s. Still slightly shocked, he had to admit that the pixie hairstyle looked rather nice on her.
Not even realizing it, Adrien found himself at the boards, staring at her as she laughed with her teammates. His legs seemed to have a mind of their own and had dragged him down to be closer to her.
After a moment, he caught her eye from the sidelines.
“Adrien?!?!”
It took him another two years before he could muster up the courage to ask her out. He liked to blame it on their conflicting schedules, but luckily one winter week they found themselves both in the city of Montréal.
Their first date?
Skating of course.
She held his hand, her large fluffy mittens like a tiny pillow in his palm. “Of course the one week you’re here, and it rains,” she giggled, scrunching her nose as light drops of rain tickled her skin.
“What can I say?” he shrugged, “I bring the good luck with me wherever I go.”
“Pffftttt,” she scoffed, “It that sarcasm, mister gold medalist?”
He laughed, slightly bashful. “No… My Lady, never…” he said as he stared up into the cloudy night sky, “perhaps it’s your luck then that we have to blame for this unfavourable weather.”
She feigned offence, quickly dropping his hand and skating ahead of him, her hands crossed and chin up in the air in defiance.
He chuckled. At the sound she spun around, playfully glaring at him with her bluebell eyes. She continued skating, backwards now, just an arms length in front of him. In the evening light her eyes flashed brightly, reflecting the Christmas lights decorating the scene.
He blushed.
And he stumbled.
It seemed that the sudden downfall of rain had affected the conditions of the outdoor rink, causing various patches of slush to bloom across the surface of the ice, impeding the skill of even the most highly skilled skater, Adrien Agreste included.
He stumbled forwards, blushing even deeper in a mixture of humiliation and slight love-struck embarrassment.
But he was saved from complete disgrace, as he contemplated returning every single figure skating accolade he had accumulated throughout the years as payment for tripping on ice, by a pair of strong arms that kept him upright. His hands naturally feel on her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him steady. He face landed into the nook between her neck and collarbone, caught in the soft cushion of her scarf. He could feel the tickle of her hair against his cheek. Even in the cold, drizzling rain, he felt like he was on fire.
Her mouth so close to his ear, he could easily hear the muffled sounds of her giggle. Leaning back and straightening up, he looked down at her with an embarrassed smile. Her arms stayed wrapped around him.
“Sorry,” he chuckled awkwardly, “it was a bit slippery there.”
“Adrien,” she deadpanned, “We’re on ice. It’s slippery everywhere.”
But she quickly dropped her stern demeanour, and a lovely smile lit up her face.
“Right, right,” he replied, clearing his throat, trying his best not to meet her glaze.
“Adrien?”
“Hmmmmm?” he replied, looking down at his skates.
At the soft touch of her glove against his face, he tore his gaze back to her. She was looking at him, watching him with care, a pink blush adding to the clusters of freckles across her cheeks.
Oh…
“Well,” she whispered, leaning in closer, she rose up slightly higher towards him on the tips of her blades, “Looks like I’m the lucky one, huh?”
He titled his head in question.
But before he could voice a reply, she leaned further in, pulling him gently down until their lips met.
Perhaps they were both the lucky ones.
The first time she stepped on the ice, he held her hand. Her small hand was easily wrapped up in his much larger one. He smiled. She was so tiny. Probably even younger than he was when he first stepped on the ice.
On her other side, her left hand was held in the palm of his wife. He stared at her, meeting her deep blue eyes and winked. She laughed at him, reaching over to boop his nose. The action only made him laugh along with her, her fluffy gloves sending tickling sensations up and down his spine. He held back a sneeze.
Together their laughs were quickly joined by the little girl in between them, she seemed elated as she concentrated on keeping her balance.
“Look Mommy! I’m doing it!! Daddy!! Do you see?”
He did see. Smiling he nodded along with Marinette as they cooed over their daughter and her amazing feat.
He saw them. The two greatest loves of his life and he smiled.
OH! DID I FORGET TO MENTION THIS WAS A MARRIED AU!??! BECAUSE BOOM!!! >:D
Qooky mentioned her love for her childhood friends and married AUs SO I DECIDED TO DO BOTH!!! ^^ with a bit of my usual sports au spin!! (pls see her amazing Married AU fic = It’s An Effort – although duh, who hasn’t??!?! – it’s amaze and her art?!?! BEAUTIFUL!)
