"Bet I can go down faster than you!'"
Before Peter could respond, Wade jumped over the edge of the platform, screaming out the theme track to George of the Jungle. Not even two seconds in the air and his skis were already crossed, and Wade tumbled down the hill until he landed face first into a snow bank.
With a sigh, Peter firmly adjusted the straps to his snowboard before he tipped his weight over the ledge, gliding down the length of the ski track until he reached Wade. He skid his board to a quick stop, spraying Wade's backside with a mist of snow.
"Serves you right," he muttered as he unclasped his feet from the board. Peter grabbed Wade by his waist, ducking a few times to avoid being kicked in the face by his flailing legs, and pulled him out. It was no easy task. Wade was wedged in there pretty tightly.
He grunted, using his full strength to yank Wade out of the snow. "What the hell is Canadian snow made of anyway, cement?"
Finally Wade was pulled free. They both stumbled back with the force of Peter's effort, Wade landing squarely on top of Peter's chest. "Never underestimate Canadian snow, baby boy. This shit's worse than quicksand - one false step and bam! Eaten alive."
"I don't think that's how snow works, Wade," Peter wheezed, struggling to breathe under Wade's crushing weight. He pushed him off, earning an angry pout in return.
"And how do you know? You're not Canadian!"
"We have snow in New York, idiot!"
"Yeah, but not Canadian snow! Everyone knows that everything is bigger and better in Canada," he scoffed.
Peter stared at Wade blankly. "The saying is 'everything is bigger in America', Wade. And by the way, you suck at skiing. And I mean really suck, not just 'I need to adjust my position' suck."
They glared at each other before Peter let out an irritated sigh. "You didn't even go for lessons, did you."
"Why would I need lessons?"
"Because you can't ski," Peter deadpanned. Honestly, he didn't even know why he even bothered trying with Wade sometimes.
"I can too ski! The weather conditions are just interfering with my game, that's all!"
"You mean the bright, sunny sky and the lack of wind? Really, the only bad thing about this weather is that it's minus forty. Just admit it, you can't ski."
"Yeah, well what about you? You're using a snowboard!"
"And?"
"You probably can't ski at all either! Just hiding behind something easy like a snowboard. Pretty chicken of you, Spidey," said Wade.
"Pfft, bet I can do better than you! Give me those skis!"
Wade jerked away from Peter, tripping over his skis again. "You'll have to rip them from my cold, dead body!"
Peter grit his teeth, shooting Wade an angry glare. "That can be arranged."
"Hey, easy now, baby boy, my feet are stuck in the skis, I can't run, ah -!"
—
Peter stumbled yet again, tripping over himself before falling face first in the snow.
In the background Wade was laughing, and he whizzed by Peter with the snowboard, pushing him down when he was almost up again.
