Artist: @lunchtea
For: @main-exam
Prompt: Rem and Misa enjoying eachother’s company.
Artist’s notes: I like to think Misa took a lot of photos with Rem so I thought this would be cute
Title: An Hour on the Ice
Author/Artist: NightfuryNova ( @nightfurynova1217 )
For: @lunchtea
Pairings/Characters: Rester & Near
Rating/Warnings: General Audiences
Prompt: Rester teaching Near how to ice skate
Author/Artist’s notes: You had such amazing prompts it was so hard to pick! Settled on this one because I love ice skating and I love Near, so thanks for the great opportunity to write for him for the first time. Also hope you like the pic to accompany the fic!
Word Count: 2443
Near was shaking. Whether from the cold or because of nerves, he didn’t know. Neither were preferable. He was bundled in a winter coat and puffy snow pants—not unlike the pair found on Matt’s body a few years ago—sitting on the benches just outside of the rink. He was twirling a lock of hair as he waited for Commander Rester to return with the rental skates. Rester already owned a pair of his own, but obviously Near didn’t.
It wasn’t even terribly cold. The ice rink was indoors and therefore open for skating year-round. As a matter of fact, it was early spring in the northern hemisphere, and the temperatures in the mid-west US on the warmer days were reaching the average heat expected in a British summer. And whereas it was of course rather chill inside, the coat should have been plenty sufficient to maintain his body heat.
Near groaned to himself. Great. The shaking was nerves.
He had no rational reason to be nervous. Rester was plenty competent and would surely be patient amidst Near’s inexperience. It was perhaps just the aspect of never having done it before that was getting to him. It was the fear of falling and getting hurt, made even worse that such a failure was almost inevitable.
When Rester suggested the idea, and Near jokingly agreed—followed quickly by a double-take when Rester proceeded as though there was no sarcasm—Near hadn’t even the slightest clue of what ice skating would physically demand of him. Upon discovering he was going to experience it first-hand, he took the time to do a little bit of research, so at the very least he would know what he was suddenly in for.
Reading about it didn’t seem bad. Watching videos, well, of course the professionals made it look easy. But overall the simple techniques seemed rather low-effort. Really, the only reason why he didn’t completely veto the trip was because he supposed it was something he could reasonably accomplish, even if he clung to the sides the entire time.
But he knew that it would be a new sensation, and that balance was key. And there was no way to even get remotely decent except through practice. He had no intentions to make it a regular activity, but while he was there, may as well try. Rester had already gone through the effort to plan it anyway, and it was something he enjoyed. Near owed it to him.
Retrieving the ice skates took less than a minute. Lacing them up however, was another matter. It was a simple enough task, but Near had to undo, then retie them up again when he didn’t have enough lace leftover to knot it at the top, because apparently they weren’t tight enough. Rester corrected him on the mistake, and when Near protested, saying they were tight enough to function, Rester grinned and assured him that they absolutely were not.
Rester asked if he wanted to keep his coat on. Near stared at him, dumbfounded—now taking note of the fact that Rester had only a loose, long sleeved shirt covering his torso, not even a sweater—and asked why wouldn’t he want it. Apparently, once they got moving, they’d keep warm enough that the cold wouldn’t bother them. Near emphatically disagreed and kept it on. Besides, it also acted as armor alongside the snow pants for when he’d eventually tumble to the ground.
Walking to the rink entrance… was one of the clunkiest, most awkward, and uncomfortable endeavors Near had ever endured just to walk. It was a foreign concept to his muscle memory for his weight to be balanced on a single, straight line down the center of his feet, and to be raised an inch above the ground. Rester made it look effortless—because of course he did—and he offered his hand to help stabilize Near, which he quickly took. Honestly, storming out of the SPK office while it was under attack, may not have necessarily been preferable due to the danger of the situation, but at least it felt more doable.
Near quietly sighed, hoping Rester didn’t hear his clear disdain and regret for everything already. Then he grit his teeth. It was Near’s fault he was there in the first place. If he didn’t want it to get that far, he should have spoken up beforehand, which he had plenty of opportunities to. May as well commit.
Which was far easier said than done once they finally reached the ice. Near hesitated and tightened his grip on Rester’s hand. Rester squeezed back and gently pat his back, reassuring him with some fatherly encouragement that Near only partially took to heart. Slowly, Rester stepped onto the ice—Near noticed the shift in his ankles and knees as he quickly adjusted to the slippery ground, before standing confidently still—softly tugging Near along, but not enough to usher him faster than he was prepared for.
Near took a deep breath, attempting to still his trembling, and very, very slowly, made his first step onto the ice.
Just as suspected, it was a radically new sensation, one that no amount of reading could prepare him for. His hand tensed again, but Rester had a secure hold right back, giving him further assurance and gently urged him forward. Near reluctantly obliged, repeatedly internally reminding himself that he made a commitment. Besides, he could at least make one round, even if he hated it the entire time. That would be a sufficient trial run to formulate an appropriate opinion.
Near placed his other hand on the rim—which had a vastly inconvenient amount of space to actually grip onto—and eventually made his second step, landing both his feet on the ice. Rester was incredibly patient, and Near was ever grateful. They stood still for a moment before Near nodded, allowing them to continue.
Rester insisted that they proceed at whatever pace Near set. On the one hand, Near appreciated the sentiment. On the other, he knew it’d go faster, and he’d be done much sooner, if Rester took the lead. Not to any outrageous speed of course, Near would never agree to anything of the sort. But to be encouraged to go faster—even outside of his comfort zone—didn’t seem like much of a bad idea right now.
The shaking still had yet to cease. And now that he was within the glass entrapment that had all the building’s cooling elements trained on it, he felt it may have gotten worse. Either that or his nervousness reached a new peak.
Or both. It was likely both.
About a quarter-way around, Rester offered to give him advice. Near agreed. Apparently, he’d have more stability and control over his movements if he kept his knees bent, and ankles straight. Near’s gaze immediately dropped down to his feet and he asked how he wasn’t already following the latter instruction. With another patient grin, Rester explained that it wasn’t supposed to feel like standing on solid ground, and that, if done correctly, ice skating used different muscles that took time and practice to strengthen.
Near inquired further, and Rester explained: in order to get the proper stance, it was supposed to feel like he was leaning on the sides of his feet. At least at first, until he’d get used to it.
Though, with a light chuckle, Rester admitted that he didn’t anticipate Near would become a regular at the rink, so he assured him that it wasn’t imperative for him to adhere to the proper form if he didn’t want to, and that he wouldn’t hurt himself if he didn’t. Near tried anyway, for no other reason than to keep some part of his mind focused on something else, hoping it would help calm the shivering.
In a small way, it did.
At two-thirds, Near observed how the more practiced skaters accelerated and decelerated without any external aid. He asked about it, and what techniques were used to accomplish it. According to Rester, it was all in the position, angle, and pressure on the feet, or more specifically the blades they stood on.
A large part of the control that came with formal ankle posture was directly tied to that aspect. When it came to braking, doing so too quickly would send a skater tumbling if they didn’t have the necessary muscles—and practiced balance—to keep their ankles from buckling. There were a couple methods to brake, but the one Rester defaulted to was turning one foot inward and slightly angled sideways, then increasing pressure on it to scrape to a stop. Per Near’s request, he let go of his hand and demonstrated a few times so Near could study.
Likewise with acceleration, a glide was much smoother when the blades were flat against the ice—and pointing straight ahead—rather than tilted at any angle.
For the last quarter or so, though he was still clinging to the edge, Near practiced a few short glides and experimented more with balance. He kept his hand securely on the ledge, but by the time they made a full loop and got back to the open door, he found himself relying more upon Rester’s secure hand.
Near looked up. Well, he made it all the way around. He could get off now and could honestly say that he at least tried it… But in a way, he was only just starting to get a taste of it. Before stepping onto the ice he thought one loop would be plenty to form an opinion, but after talking to Rester, and receiving tips from him, he was beginning to realize that wasn’t a fair assessment. Now he was becoming curious.
He decided to remain quiet, and acted before Rester could speak if he had anything to say. As they drew nearer, he kicked off into another short glide past the gap and reached for the ledge again. Though he’d begun to lean more towards Rester anyway, it still felt nerve-wracking to have one of his hands completely unoccupied while he was moving. Only then did he start shaking again, though, thankfully, it was only for that short moment before quickly calming himself again.
Which was precisely when he realized that he’d stopped shivering at all at some point.
Out of the corner of Near’s eye, Rester looked surprised, but delighted, though didn’t say anything either. Then as though nothing was silently communicated, they continued.
Near proceeded to experiment, but kept himself extremely careful from getting overconfident, even with Rester as his immediate safety net. He was becoming more comfortable on the ice, especially after receiving direct instruction, minor corrections, and further demonstrations from Rester. So whereas he was quite a bit faster the second time around, he kept himself at a very slow, cautious pace.
When they closed in toward the entrance again, Near looked up at Rester and told him he was free to skate away and have his own fun. Rester assured him that Near wasn’t a bother, then followed the statement by asking if he intended to step off the ice. Near responded in the negative and plainly explained that he wanted to try being on his own, and see how he felt about it.
Once they reached the gap, and as Near made another leap-of-sorts past it, Rester kindly asked if he was sure, to which Near nodded and confirmed his decision. Rester nodded back and told him that if he changed his mind, or decided he was done, that he was more than welcome to say so.
His nerves spiked again when Rester let go and skated away, but he was able to relax himself, then slowly began to make his way around for the third time.
He alternated between the proper stance with bent knees and straightened ankles, and with what felt natural, experimenting. Of course, considering that there was an established posture cultivated by professionals in the first place, the formal method was obviously the better choice. But he felt a certain satisfaction in testing it himself—and personally feeling the difference—to come to the same conclusion by his own choice.
Very rarely did he encounter another skater, especially someone who was also close to the edge. Rester made sure to schedule the activity at a time and day when it was least likely to be crowded, and was accurate in his prediction. Most other skaters were very skilled and kept closer to the center of the rink. Including Rester’s wife and three daughters.
The six of them had drove together, and the women immediately got on the ice after lacing up their skates. Both Rester and Near insisted they shouldn’t have to wait.
Periodically, Near would glance at them together as a family, never long enough for them to notice, but sufficiently for his own entertainment between glides. He wasn’t a part of them. But they included him. Without hesitation or prejudice he was invited on their family outing. They were under the pretense that Near was a coworker, a peer of Rester’s, rather than immediate superior. There was already very little Rester could speak about his work to his family, so there was virtually nothing they could have possibly known about Near upon meeting him for the first time. But he was greeted with nothing but kindness.
Midway through his sixth time around, Near found himself smiling. He wouldn’t quite say that he was getting the hang of it, and by no means would he ever suggest he was even decent, but he was noticeably steadier than when he’d first started. Even better than that, he was more confident now than when Rester had first stepped away.
Only once—after more than half-an-hour on the ice—did Rester skate up to him and ask how he was doing. A brief conversation brewed upon Near’s positive response, then before long they parted ways again. Near was left comfortably alone to his own devices, and Rester was allowed to… relax.
Within the workplace, Near had only ever seen him completely serious and unwaveringly dutiful, which was immeasurably more valuable than any words of affirmation Near could possibly give him. Yet, despite Rester’s status as Near’s most trusted ally, he rarely ever saw his softer side. Those short moments were reserved exclusively in-between cases, and such an occasion was what sparked the whole trip in the first place.
Near held his gaze on their little group for longer than he felt he should have, risking the possibility that they’d see him. A soft smile touched his lips as he listened to their laughter, and watched their joy.
It was a sight and sound he wouldn’t mind beholding more often.
