I love fs
Soog practice sesh but figure skating ‘cause i wasn’t given anythin’ other than the ship
@smallcrowdotcom
Honestly, Silverr had always thought Doog seemed more comfortable skating contemporary than performing his olympics-made programs. Not that those skates weren't freaking amazing, but there was a noticeable difference in the quality of his artistry—maybe that word choice was bad, ‘cause it insinuated Doogile was anything short of perfection.
Freedom. That was the word; when he was performing his own routines—hell, even for galas—, he was more lax, expressive. Even now, watching Doog glide across the ice, pivot on his heel and launch himself into the air for one graceful rotation, his breath was taken away. Another half rotation to land backwards made a flawless single axel. Really, it was a shame that the backing for skaters here was tiny compared to the support they got in Japan.
Maybe if the sport got more popular, eyes on the ice and by extension the skaters, they’d more backing and funding, and they’d get to share the ice for longer, practice with each other without the excuse of a competition or gala. Chatting away about micro technicals (“her edge was one degree off, max.” “She still fell, didn’t she?” “But that was because of her shitty landing, bro, not that tiny ass mistake on the takeoff.”) over call was fun, but airplane wifi was only so good, and a video call couldn’t supplement seeing each other on the ice.
“That felt wrong,” Doogile called, brows furrowing. He stopped in the middle of the ice, hands on his hips, “did the ice get melted by the lighting, or what?”
Okay, that was one time, and Silverr ended up being right! His freakin bad for being goated and having legendary spidey senses, or whatever. “Oh, on the single? Uh,” Silverr leaned on the rink walls, wracking his mind. “I think you might’ve… I think your foot might’ve been,” he held a hand up straight and held his other hand a good distance away from it, “too far.”
Looking down at his feet, Doogile murmured something, then nodded to himself. Though seemingly ready to try again, he paused and stared at Silverr accusingly. “Bro, are you not gonna- get on the ice again? At this point you might unwarm up, you know?”
“Nahhh,” Silver waved him away, “it’s only been five minutes, or something.”
Doogile frowned, “What are you saying? It has been way more than five minutes,” he skated towards Silverr and clicked his tongue, “Bro’s getting old,” he muttered under his breath theatrically, “Time to pack it up, unc.”
Scoffing, Silverr walked to the rink’s gate, “You’re older than me!” He paused, “I think.” The topic of birthdays or ages never really came up. The info was always available on their respective wikipedia pages, but Silverr didn’t want to bother with stuff outside of skating. As he took off his skate guards, Silverr humored the thought a little more, though the chance to spend their birthdays together was slim-to-none; they had families and lives outside of the sport, after all.
But maybe… Silver hummed, tuning out Doog’s reply in favor of the music and the feeling of ice under his skates.