Summary: Chan is bad at skating. But at least you’re there for him.
Genre: Fluff, very very mild not-so-softcore elements. It’s just a lil cheeky that’s all
Warning(s): See Genre, otherwise none
Word Count: 1234 ... O.o
Theme Song: Twilight - Ateez
AN: Combination of prompts 10 & 11—iceskating and hot cocoa! Two of my favourite prompts actually (credit @songi-writes) but I had ot rush them today bc I was busy :(( I hope you enjoy regardless
~~~
There was a terrified shout as skin met harsh, damp cold, a body slamming into the ice.
The mass, barely wrapped up in enough layers as it was, shot like a curling stone across the dusted white, spinning gradually until it finally collided with the snowy bank of the lake.
Chan hissed—not in pain from his fall, but rather when he tried to lever himself back onto his skates and had to nock his hands into the snow.
You tried to bite back your laughter, but it burst the banks of your lips as he managed to get back onto his feet, only to fall right back down onto his butt.
He peered over to you, a ready distance away, and pouted at your amusement, especially when you began to make your way over to him.
Gliding over the ice as if it were made of water, he dreamt of being able to keep up with you. Or at least, not to fall over every minute.
Needless to say, Chan could do many things, but ice-skating was not one of them.
That and saying no to his hairstylist.
“Oh, baby…” you cooed, voice laced with genuine concern even if you still chuckled at the state of him. You crouched to his level, wanting to help him up only to remember your hands were preoccupied with holding your hot chocolates. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waved, giving you a gritted smile, as if it would make you relent. “I’m fine, honestly—”
“No you’re not, hang on.”
You skated away a few paces to place your piping hot drinks on the ice.
He wondered how you always saw through him, many saw his dimples and put it off as settled and done. But you… you always seemed to know what he was thinking. Maybe not exactly, but you knew how he felt.
Clearly he was more of an open book than he realised.
Upon your return, he’d managed to twist himself somewhat more upright. However, he took your hand immediately when you offered it to him.
Digging your blades into the ice, you helped him carefully back onto his feet, instructing him to turn his skates inwards to stop him from sliding all over the place.
“Alright! There you go, you’re back up, all in one piece,” you congratulated, dusting off the snow from his back, “I presume…”
Snickering, you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as you took delight in the privilege of brushing your hand across his backside. Though it was more of a caress than a brush.
His mouth opened to speak, protest or compliment you weren’t sure, because no words came from those plump cold-bitten lips of his.
You had the right mind to circle round and warm them up nicely with your own, but decided against it.
Instead, you swirled away from him.
Even if he had had a problem with your actions, it wasn’t as if he could catch you. Which, in your opinion, took out half the fun.
What was the point with playing with someone who couldn’t pursue you? The chase was the best part after all.
You came to a swift stop a metre away, deciding to change that.
“Alright sweet cheeks, it’s time I actually taught you how to skate.”
He protested to this. “I-I can skate! I know how, I’m just…”
You waited to see if he’d finish his sentence but he merely trailed off.
“Don’t know very well,” you finished for him, “and that’s ok, I blame whoever taught you last time because the technique they taught you is absolutely shocking.”
You hoped he’d laugh, even if only timidly, but he just looked nervous, gazing at you with a mildly fearful look in his eyes, a lip being teased between his teeth.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” you reassured, toning down the slyness in your voice, “just listen to my words and focus on your actions, and you’ll make it over to me in no time.”
“I’m not sure I can,” he chuckled despairingly, “skating just… doesn’t…”
“Doesn’t come to you naturally, I know baby, but you’ll get the hang of it soon enough. I’m sure of it. You’re Bang Chan, the man that can do anything, and I love you, and I believe in you.”
He couldn’t help but let his heart swell at that.
“So,” you began, holding out your arms, in full acknowledgement that he adored hugs and it would give him even more of an incentive to come to you, “turn your feet inwards, press against the ice and come to me.”
.
.
A laugh glittered upon the crisp air, melodious and soft.
Chan was... skating!
Not perfectly, every now and again there was a falter in his step, but you were there to catch him.
Arms interlinked at the elbow, you slowly swung around the lake, as the sun set above your heads, casting shadows from the snow along the banks.
“I told you you could do it,” you said, nudging his waist.
He flinched, inhaling. “Hey!” he whined, “you know that tickles!”
Letting out a laugh, you pushed yourself to glide around him in a circle.
He spun his head as quickly as he could to follow you, taking in the sight of your smile.
Coming to his side once again, you snuck your gloved hand into his, fingers lacing.
“Soon you’ll be able to do that too.”
“I doubt it,” he beamed, “but that’s ok, I’m happy now just watching you.”
“That’s a shame, because I won’t be happy until I can kiss you.”
Chan decided to be brave, and attempt to stop the two of you in the centre of the lake.
This time, fortune was on his side, and—though it was far from effortless—the two of you came to a halt, feet wavering upon the ice’s surface.
Entwining his other hand with yours, he leant in to for your lips to meet.
They were practically frozen, surface roughened with cold and the marks of his nerves. No matter what you did you could not tame them, and he would argue you never would be able to.
His kiss was passionate, as he always was, moving with you as you melted against him, closing your eyes to the twilight around you to feel only him.
He held onto your hands tightly, willing himself desperately to not fall over.
You eventually pulled away, straightening his posture so he had more balanced by holding him by the shoulders.
“Your lips are so cold,” he mentioned.
“Yours too,” you winked, “perhaps we should have bought some hot drinks beforehand, or maybe even kissed sooner.”
“I wouldn’t have been against that, and you know that too,” he giggled.
Then his face suddenly fell.
“Chan?”
He awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rotating to look back at the bank where he’d fallen.
“We did have hot drinks,” he pointed to the abandoned silhouettes of cups stood as a pair on the ice, “we just forgot all about them.”
“Oops... I bet they’re ice cold too...”
He wrinkled his nose. “I guess we’ll have to go get them and then throw them away.”
“Yup.” You hummed. “Race you!”
He watched you take off into the dimming light with a sigh.
One day he’d be able to keep up. One day.
Maybe he’d even win.
~~~
AN: I feel like I might write more for these prompts, because I don’t feel I did them enough service here :((
