Sparkles and Tights

Francis met him at his front door, wearing sweat pants and a matching sweater, a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Arthur had never seen him look so.... casual. So.... relaxed. No matter the situation, Francis was always over dressed. He was known for it. This image was one he was going to remember forever.

"So where did you feel like taking me all of a sudden?" Arthur asked, eying the black duffle bag in interest. Francis gave him a secret smile, eyes glinting with amusement and anticipation. Arthur made a show of looking Francis up and down. "More importantly, why does it need such casual wear?"

"You'll see, Petit Lapin. It's been a place I go often for a very long time." Francis nearly skipped along, leading him through winding streets, grinning widely. The building he brought him to a stop before was small, well kept but old. "I love it here." Francis mumbled, more to himself than anything, but Arthur still heard and shot him an odd look.

"An ice rink? Really?" But Francis just gave him another secret smile, leading him inside. The zamboni was just crawling off the ice, leaving it slightly wet and sparkling. "Did you forget I can't skate? Besides that, when did you learn? Last time I saw you on ice, you were cursing up a storm and swearing you would never try it again."

Francis didn't reply, dumping his things on a nearby bench. From the duffle bag, he pulled a pair of black skates, gesturing for Arthur to sit down. With a huff, Arthur did. Indeed, the last time he'd seen Francis skate (if it could be called that) had been his last time on ice as well. Francis deftly did the laces, pulling them tight and looping them over the small metal hooks.

"That should be good." He sat down to do his own skates, white flashing from beneath his sweater as he bent over. Arthur thought nothing of it. His skates were white, scuffed at the toes and well worn. He stood, smiling at Arthur to help him onto the ice. Arthur took a careful step out, forgetting to wonder why Francis looked so confident. He wobbled, gripping firmly to the steady hand.

"So, why am I doing this again?" Arthur grumbled, convinced that he had nearly squeezed all the circulation from Francis's arm as he grasped him for dear life. Francis grinned, gliding along backwards easily, as though he'd been born on ice.

"It's romantic, Petit Lapin. No one else is around, soft music playing, you clinging to me desperately." He laughed softly, skating and bringing Arthur with him. He was able to completely ignore it when blunt nails dug into his arm through the sweater. "Besides, aren't you in the olympic mood?"

"No." Arthur snarled viciously, yelping as he stumbled forwards, quickly caught by the Frenchman. He blushed furiously and regained his balance. "And this is not romantic. I feel like an idiot."

"Petit Lapin, you are an idiot. And you wouldn't know romance if it crawled up your ass." Rather than storm away with a petulant pout and a few choice words for Francis, Arthur was forced to go around the rink in circles, hand in hand with him instead. The image completely contradicted the mood between them. Animosity, however friendly, was nearly palpable between them as they bickered back and forth.

"Why is it that you can skate so well? It's bothering me now." Arthur studied Francis's easy posture, his sure glides along the ice, the lack of slip ups. Francis grinned.

"I thought you would never ask." He skated off the ice, leaving Arthur standing in the middle of the rink, slightly dumbfounded. He rounded a corner and was gone for only brief moment, reappearing quickly.

He skated back onto the ice, arms outstretched in a show of grandiosity, eyes glittering, reflecting the sparkles of the skating costume that had been hidden beneath the casual clothes. Arthur rolled his eyes. Why had he expected anything else? Francis never, ever, dressed down. His costume looked like someone had dipped him in glitter.

Without a word to him, Francis stood in the corner, seeming to count to himself before he began moving again. The wind generated by his speed whipped at his hair and left his cheeks red. Pulling his arms up, he jumped and twisted, landing smoothly on one foot, his other leg outstretched. Arthur's jaw dropped.

Francis did it again, skating backwards before stepping out to twirl. He looked like he was having the time of his life, his entire face alive, as though he wanted to burst into laughter at any moment. His feet worked quickly, light and nearly soundless over the ice. When he stopped, he left Arthur speechless.

"When the hell did you learn to do that? I mean, even for a frog like you, that was amazing!" Francis gave him a breathless laugh, brushing sweaty locks of hair from his forehead.

"It's not like I'm olympic standard or anything..." he trailed off, trying to sound humble, but the glow in his eyes anything but. He took Arthur's hand again. Arthur's mouth set in a determined line.

"You're teaching me." he decided firmly, nodding his head once to assure himself. Francis raised an eyebrow, surprised that Arthur was actually willing to participate in something he knew Francis enjoyed.

"Petit lapin, it's not like it's easy to learn."

"I don't care, you're teaching me!"

Owari