So far it wasn’t quite as advertised in this reporters over active imagination. Only one of this pair was gliding gracefully, and it wasn’t the plucky mortal half. Armand skated another full circuit, switching between doing so forwards and backwards. So far so achingly typical.
Daniel was seen to be cleaving for dear life to the sidewall. He’d started cocky and ended up on his arse. His knuckles would have been white beneath the gloves. Legs seemingly scrambling of their own volition.
“So this is how I die. Beaten by frozen water. Literally.“ Breath misting in the air. Armand circled nearby. Coming to a stop beside Daniel.
“Always trust a writer to have such a flair for the dramatic.” Voice patient as he looked at the struggling taller male. “Take my hand I’ll steady you.”
Daniel stared at the hand, pride was a funny thing. He wanted help, but didn’t at the same time. His hind brain wanted to do this by himself. Show this gangly man could do something spectacular. He stood straight as he could and stepped away one leg went one way, the other betrayed him further and a cartoon-esque desperate attempt at locomotion on ice insued. Arms whirling like a gyro, to propell him back to the safety that was wall. Him and wall could have a long, and beneficial friendship he could tell.
“Here’s good. I’m not sure my pride could take another fall, on camera, saved for ever…” staring straight at said camera in a deadpan way. “I need to gather the remaining shreads of it to my bosom anyways.”
Armand smirked at the jest gliding nearer still, he’d laughed internally when Daniel had fallen over. Worry had soon followed, naturally as he rushed to him to make sure nothing was broken, bruised definitely, especially the ego.
“What if I kiss all those bruises better, later.” Placing a feather light kiss on Daniels mouth. Holding out both his hands. “I could carry you around as easily. But your own momentum would look better.” Coaxing him by intending to hold Daniels hands rather than the other way around, appearances mattered sometimes. Even though the only audience was that camera. Moving back further.
“I think I’m more interesting for your hands to cleave too, beloved.” Armand stated, ofcourse he could feel the love beneath the primal bursts of fear. As Daniels violet eyes gazed back at him. Fragile he was comparatively, but this fanged beau wouldn’t let anything happen to him. No broken bones for Mr Molloy. Any bruises would be healed, skin left unmarked.
Letting hands drop as it became clear self preservation was winning this outing. Tough love was in order. The vampire wasn’t above reverse psychology. “I’ll do another circuit then you can try, yes?” Not expecting an answer.
Moving away he readied himself for how to persuade his love away from forementioned good old reliable wall. Thanks to his mortal boyfriend, he’d rediscovered mortal steps, a weight or lack of to his movements. How to move less like a spectre and more like the youngman he’d been centuries ago. This meant his skating was less perfect, but still more than competent. As a youth he’d worn blades strapped to his boots on frozen lakes. All in one shoes was a luxury, Armand mused with a light smile on his lips. Approaching Daniel fast he waved. With the deftness of a stuntman he then aimed to fake a stumble seamlessly. Eyes already finding a flaw in the ice ahead, a ruck which could take anyone - except him - unawares. With control he managed to act out of control over that indent. Ankle turning to oneside a mere metre away from Daniels standing place. Almost in slow motion, and far slower than he should have been all told, diving head first towards the ice. A gambit really if Daniel chose not to move.
Daniel waved back, one arm looped over the barrier still to steady himself. Frowned as Armands skate found that treacherous valley in the rink, saw his ankle list. Saw that eternally beautiful face and form crashing into the ice infront of him. The rational part of him knew it wouldn’t harm him, the vampire would probably dent ‘it’. But that side of Daniel took a back seat as the all sense out the window - man in love part of him couldn’t bear to see his love hurt launched himself forward to catch him. Instinctual as were most things between them. Legs cooperating to travel the necessary distance away from his most recent steady partner, to the one that mattered most.
Managing to slow Armand down at least. An awkward clash of limbs that resulted in them sinking to their knees in a kind of Torvill and Dean figure routine gone wrong (as the reporter would realise and laugh about as a vampire years later, and a year after said famed Bolero). How could this man not when his legs re-realised he couldn’t skate for fuck. The rational, cynical part of him then chimed in. He’d been duped, as Armand seemed to be leading (when wasn’t he!) and cushioning their fall from grace. “Fuck! You sneaky bugger! That was a ploy wasn’t it.” A slight edge of mirth entering his voice, over running the cursing rancour as he stared down at Armands face curtained in a swirl of curls from that escapade.
He’d not managed to suppress his beaming smile, as Daniel had dashed to his rescue. Nerves forgotten in preventing him from falling on the ice. Long limbs reaching and catching him, a light pivot righted him enough to stabilise his shaky mortal love. The resulting kinetic energy not so easily displaced so he cleaved to Daniel and half spun before slipping to a half kneel to break their fall first. “My hero.” He said, a heartbeat after Daniels revelation. Peeking up at the other through his curls, wild and whirling about his face in the chill night air. “You caught me, so you can skate if given the right motivation.” Pursing his lips to hide the blooming smirk. “I said I’d kiss all your bruises better did I not! That offer still stands. Shall we attempt to skate together and this time I’ll not let you fall.” Arching up to plant a kiss on Daniels mirrored pursed lips. Standing with breathtaking ease. Looking down at the taller male.
“Fine but can we leave any mind game, smoke and mirror theatrics to another night yeah.” Knowing Armand knew he quite liked them, most of the time. Reaching up a hand. “Your gonna have to help me up -” Not finishing the sentence before the vampire bodily picked him up, the hand waving around uselessly above him like a demented flag.
“Don’t worry beloved I’ll edit the film to include only your best bits, I promise.” Bringing the hand down to kiss, before leading them slowly off. “Firm strokes of your feet out…”
