It was surprisingly clear that Ivan was the more coordinated of the two.
Ludwig would barely stray from the railing before falling down again, slipping on the ice as his flailing arms desperately tried to stop his descent to the hard ground beneath him. Ivan knew better than to help him; he'd already been shooed away by the prideful German once when he'd tried.
It gave him a perverse sense of accomplishment at being able to best Ludwig at something, even if it were something so childish and trivial as ice skating.
In fact, now Ludwig simply clung to the safety of the structure near the wall as if it were the only life boat in an empty ocean, clenching it until his knuckles turned white. His eyes skirted around the ice nervously, distrusting.
Violet eyes watched him with poorly concealed amusement and the Russian had to hide his leer behind a gloved hand.
"Do you give up yet?" He called across the arena.
This game they would play. Ivan was winning.
Either Ludwig could swallow his pride enough for Ivan to offer assistance, or, the Russian could stand by and watch his opponent flounder.
Either way this game was fun.
The blonde looked up with a sharp glare, pink lips tightened to a scowl. "No." He answered, stubborn as ever.
Ivan expected as much. With surprising grace he glided over the polished, smooth surface to rest at Ludwig's side. A smirk played at his lips.
The German's cheeks flushed in anger, hair damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead as his chest heaved. He hated the cold; he hated ice. He hated this, feeling uncoordinated and helpless, unable to even move on his own without making a fool of himself, in front of Ivan, no less. He masked his embarrassment with anger.
While Ludwig was surefooted on land, ice was Ivan's element and he thrived here, striving to make it known as he circled around the man smoothly.
"All you have to do is ask."
"I can do it myself."
"Of course." was Ivan's clipped response, chin in hand and elbow supported by his other. He tilted his head as he watched, "I can go get the bucket again."*
A/N: I really can't write RusGer. Ivan always turns out looking like an ass and I'm sorry for that. I try, though, I really do—Practice makes perfect right?
I was listening to "Come on Get High" by Matt Nathanson (A very good RusGer song, in my opinion), I got the idea from one of the lines.
I originally had more typed out but I accidentally uploaded the wrong file because I'm a klutz-Anyway, I'm not sure if it ends better here or not but I'll keep it like this. This was a present for a friend, TheGeniusLackingInMotivation. (I'm really sorry that this isn't very good but as said, I tried.)
*I went iceskating once and buckets were used for children and beginner skaters to lean against in aid of balance.
Long author note is long.
Alrighty. Leave me a little review?