"This is the worst idea."
Felix says it like he means it, but he still puts on the ice skates and lets Sylvain walk him to the rink entrance. Ever a man of contraindications, but maybe that's what Sylvain loves about him most. He never knows what he's going to get that day.
At their age, they could use a little surprise.
"Come on, it'll be fun."
"Fun is sitting at The Lounge, sharing a drink and listening to cool jazz. We're missing Dorothea tonight— she only performs a few times a year nowadays!"
Sylvain laughs. "You've got her number. Call her up and ask for a personal show."
It's a tease that makes Felix scowl. "Idiot," he says, "Absolute dolt." Rude and cruel words that only mean love. Sylvain holds his hand as they stand near the rink door, smoothing his thumb over the ridges of Felix's knuckles.
"You love me," he says softly.
Felix sighs like the assumption pains him. Probably because it does. "Unfortunately. Which is why I'm here, about to bust my ass. Do you delight in my pain?"
"Felix," Sylvain laughs, "You aren't going to fall. You're the most agile person I know." Then he smirks. "And the most flexible—"
"Shove it," says Felix, pulling his hand from his grip and pushing past him to step out onto the fresh ice. He immediately slips, barely catching himself against the outer edge of the rink. Sylvain doesn't miss the low curse underneath his breath.
Sylvain's more steady on his feet, but it's from years of practice. Even if it's been years since he's been on the ice, it's one of those things you never really forget. Like riding a bicycle.
"Yes, run laps around me." Felix sneers a nasty little thing.
"Nah," says Sylvain, holding a hand out. "I'm here to help."
"Ridiculous," says Felix as he tries to stand straight on wobbling legs. "You just had to suggest skating in Fhirdidad Plaza—"
"But Felix," pleads Sylvain, "Look at the Yule tree! Biggest in this region, you know."
Felix looks against his better judgment and slips again. Sylvain reaches out to catch his hands.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop teasing."
"I've never really— Look, I haven't done this since I was a child."
"Yeah, I already heard you. Stand up straight, I've got you."
Felix does as Sylvain asks, a little more steady in his footing, but it's likely because he has a death grip on Sylvain's hands. He tries not to let that go to his head, or the way the thought of it digs a little deeper into his heart.
"Small steps," says Sylvain, "Little at a time. Once we're out there, I'll lead and you follow, okay?"
Felix scowls. "I'm not a child."
"You were just whining like one." Sylvain raises an eyebrow. "What are you afraid of? It's just ice skating. Even if you fall, it won't be far."
"Unlike these younger folks, if we fall, we might break a hip."
That's a little dramatic, thinks Sylvain. Break a hip? No. Pull a muscle? Far more likely. Sylvain already wakes with aches and strains every day, a little ice skating won't make it much worse.
He hopes.
"Felix," says Sylvain quietly, tugging at his hand to catch his attention. Felix meets his face with a gaze that's a little softer. "I just want to spend time with you. It's Yuletide. Love and family and enjoyment all around, yeah?"
Felix sighs, but he doesn't say no, so Sylvain leads him away.
It goes well. Sylvain skates backwards as he tugs Felix along, and eventually, they find a decent groove. Felix is incredibly agile in most things, so it's funny to see him fumble slightly on the skates.
"Alright, I'm going to—" Sylvain's fingers are already loosening their grip.
"Don't let go of me, you insufferable troglodyte!"
Sylvain does and watches Felix flail around, trying to catch his balance on the slick ice.
And then he tumbles, ass first, straight to the ground. Felix groans, rubbing at his hip as Sylvain skates over to his side.
"Wow, you weren't joking."
"I swear to the Goddess, you're sleeping on the couch tonight."
Sylvain cocks his head to the side. "Oh? Bold of you to assume I'm sleeping over." Except that it isn't. Sylvain has barely slept in his own apartment for nearly two months now. Doesn't even want to think of the state his fridge is in, or all the leftovers.
"Just help me up."
Sylvain does. Felix climbs to his feet in a wobbly affair, clinging to Sylvain's side, but Sylvain loves it. He readjusts, pulling him close, wrapping an arm tightly around the crook of Felix's neck. "Hey," he says gently, and just like that, all the annoyance seeps right out of Felix's tense form.
It's so easy when he's in Sylvian's embrace. Felix really is rather simple, once you figure him out.
"The tree is pretty, I guess," says Felix, dropping his forehead to Sylvain's chest. "And dinner was delicious."
Sylvain tips up his chin and is about to swoop in for a cheesy kiss when a kid skates bad and whoops a holler at them. They both laugh, knowing most would view them as too old for PDA, so Sylvian leans back and pulls Felix's hands to his mouth instead, kissing the back of it.
"Good sir," he says in jest.
"Knock it off."
Felix's hand is cold against his lips, so he nuzzles it with his cheek. "Hey, let's head back. Have some hot chocolate and watch a shitty movie."
"Hmm," Felix hums as he pretends to think about it. "Your place or mine?"
"Either. You're the part that's the warm home."
Felix's expression warms at that, a rare moment in his usually ornery facade. Then he snorts. "Let it be known— I'm picking you over Dorothea. That speaks volumes."
Still, when Sylvain tugs him towards the edge of the rink, Felix doesn't do much to stop him.
