Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon.
Author's Note: An incredibly random drabble type thing. I got the idea when I was at the skating rink for some private practice time, and I was thinking about how very sparingly I see fics with Makoto ice skating. I started a few different versions (one even taking place during the Silver Millennium), but this is the only one I finished. This is my first Sailor Moon fanfiction. So, hello. :)
He comes in every Wednesday and watches her.
It could be seen as slightly stalkeresque that each and every Wednesday he finds himself sitting in the freezing cold Alpine Ice Arena, watching a girl whose name he does not know. But Nate doesn't look at it that way. In fact, the idea doesn't even register in his mind until one of his friends asks him where he goes during his lunch breaks on Wednesdays, and Nate's explanation earns him a quirked eyebrow and leaves him feeling vaguely voyeuristic.
It's not as though he is the only one in the stands, bundled up and watching the skaters on the ice below. He's not even the only one watching her, because everyone's attention eventually focuses on her fluid grace and intensity. And she's not intense in an obvious way-she doesn't purposefully draw attention to herself or her evident skill. She just skates to whatever music is in her head or playing on her iPod. She even takes time to stop and help others around her who fumble and fall. He loves watching her pick a six-year-old up and brush him off, smile and offer to teach him how to stop. She has gained a gaggle of admirers among her impromptu students, and she takes the wide-eyed adoration with good humor.
It seems strange that watching such a simple girl in such a simple action would captivate him so. He leads a privileged life, one filled with beautiful, cool, sophisticated women and ready entertainment. But there is something about this one girl that pulls at him. Nate is accustomed to gourmet food in expensive restaurants with white tablecloths and menus without prices. But here he is, once again, sitting bundled up in his winter finest on a hard bleacher in a freezing cold ice rink, licking processed nacho cheese off of his middle finger and wishing he were licking her.