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“They opened an ice rink, near the City Hall,” Yor announced out of the blue one night, as she sat down for dinner.
Anya, who was already devouring with monstrous speed the generously sized share of lasagna on her plate, paused mid-bite.
“Ish ring?” she parroted, her mouth still crammed with food.
“Don’t speak with a full mouth,” Loid scolded lightly, and filled her glass with water for when she’d inevitably choke on her food upon eating too fast, despite his endless warnings. He turned his gaze back to Yor, then, and hummed pensively. “Did they, now? I forgot it was already that time of the year.”
Yor hummed, nodding shyly, but didn’t add anything – instead, she opted to play with her food nervously, arranging bites of potatoes and other vegetables around her place, and bit her lip.
He smiled, hearing the shy wish behind her words.
“Would you like to go there this weekend, maybe?”
She perked up immediately. “Oh, I – Yes, I would love that,” she stammered. “How about you, Anya? Do you want to go ice skating?”
“What’s ish-cating?”
Loid found himself chuckling, and tried not to think about how easy it had become to do so naturally, and how just genuine it resonated in his chest.
“You slide on ice and try not to fall,” he explained. “It’s very fun.”
Her eyes filled with nearly literal sparkles. “I wanna go!”
“Well, it’s settled, then.” He paused, and took a bite of his lasagna. Yor had, for some reason, added quite a lot of pepper in the sauce he’d helped her to make, but it was still delicious. “Let’s go to the ice rink this weekend.”
The streets were bustling with people – not that it was a surprising sight, with Christmas approaching quickly, and yet the ice rink was mercifully not as crowded as he’d feared.
The place had been decorated with great care; Christmas trees, powdered with fake snow, stood at the entrance, and the rink was surrounded by wreaths and garlands of all shades and sizes, golden and silver fairy lights flickering to the rhythm of popular holiday songs.
Anya cooed in awe at the sight, but Yor was clearly more absorbed by the sharp blade of her skates – as she always seemed to be with potential weapons.
When it came to sliding into the ice rink, Loid met no difficulty – he’d been donned the role of a professional ice skater in a past undercover mission, and hours of intensive training had stuck to his bones throughout the years.
It was not, however, as easy for Yor and Anya. Both wobbled dangerously as soon as their skates came in contact with the ice – and while Yor was able to use the ledge of the rink as a means of support, Anya was much too small to even hope to reach it from the tip of her fingers.
He came back to their side in two easy strides, taking Anya’s hand and offering Yor his elbow.
“Let’s do some rounds together so you can get used to your skates”, he suggested. “It’ll feel easier soon, don’t worry.”
Their touch felt dangerously comfortable as they slid around awkwardly – and Loid nearly choked at the realization, so he pushed that dangerous feeling aside and attempted to concentrate solely on Yor’s and Anya’s movements.
Within a few turns around the rink, Anya got comfortable enough to tentatively let go of his hand and slide on her own – and Loid was once again reminded of just how fast children grew and learnt. It was a mere matter of minutes before the young girl started whirling past them again and again with loud giggles, thankfully still mindful not to crash into people’s legs, and he found himself chuckling along with Yor at the sight.
His wife, though, was still keeping a death grip on his arm, and kept wobbling back and forth with each try at speeding forward – each time he managed to steady her before she could fall, she blabbered an endless flow of apologies for her clumsiness, and each time he would reassure her with gentle words and kind encouragements.
He knew how hard it could be, to teach his body to move in an entirely different way long after becoming an adult; besides, as strange as it appeared to him, it felt much more amusing to progress slowly and shakily with her, than to skate on his own, to the maximum of his abilities.
And then, despite their precautions, the inevitable happened: someone rushed past them just a little too close, surprising Yor and breaking her frail concentration – her right leg swung forward, and she fell on her back, pulling him down onto the sturdy layer of ice along with her.
Loid let out a surprised “ooph” as the impact knocked the air out of his lungs. Somewhere, in the distance, Anya cackled gleefully.
“Oh my – I’m so sorry, Loid,” Yor exclaimed immediately, sounding as breathless as he was. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s okay. Can you get up on your own? Or do you need help?”
“I don’t think I can,” she answered, bashful. “I’ll just keep falling again.”
“It’s okay,” he promised her. “I’ll help you up. Just give me a second.”
He used the ledge to pull himself up, ignoring the way his ribs still ached from the sudden impact, and steadied himself before offering his hand to Yor, who was still sitting down. She took it, and he pulled again, until she rose.
And rose.
And rose.
Her face came close, very close to him, stopping a few inches away from his own, the tip of her nose almost brushing against his.
The world stopped, and he forgot how to breathe. He was faintly aware of the heat that spread quickly across his cheeks.
She was just so close.
And then she slipped again, pulling him down one more time with a loud yelp.
Anya’s laughter echoed around, stronger than ever.