Guys, listen, I finally managed to update this story after 4 years, let's see if there are still people interested in it. :)
For everyone new here - it's so nice to meet you!
The mentoned ice shows mostly obviously exist in general, but a lot of it is fictionalized.
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.
Chapter 5: Showtime - Part 1
The next weeks, we spent the most time training for expositions and shows the athletes would take part in - both honours and opportunities to gain money, of course. As most olympians did, our skaters had skiped the World Cup, too drained from the training before the Olympic Games and I couldn't blame them, actually, I was even glad about it. No World Cup meant no public appearance of me with the group (despite my reluctance, no way I was going to flake on my team), and no appearance meant no gossip. Which had been surprisingly low anyway. Since Clint was the only one with a reasonably popular Instagram account and never mentioned my participation, the press hadn't really cared about anything happening in Providence so far. Ward could have been hugely successful on social media if he wanted as well though, at least that's what Phil had told me, but I had the feeling that he was almost as private as myself and had no intention of sharing anything with anyone, not even thirst traps or recipes for protein shakes.
The skating fans were far too busy gushing about Grey and Summers and their newly proclaimed engagement anyway, and of course about the regular guessing game about Team Fury. According to the last theory I had heard, Maria, Rogers and Barnes were involved in a passionate threesome. Or the whole competition between Maria and Romanov was just a hoax while they were secretly hooking up. Depending on the narrative.
To my surprise, I had found life in Providence surprisingly agreeable, and even being next to a rink almost every day had turned out to be less painful than expected. Maybe I was just very good at shutting down my feelings, or maybe enough time had passed for me to be slightly more relaxed about this. Maybe it was Phil's presence next to me as we watched our athletes, or the way his eyes would light up at my tentative suggestions - who knew.
"Mel?" Phil suddenly asked one day over dinner, making me look up from my plate.
"Yeah?" I frowned as I saw his slightly hesistant look, "what's up?"
"Are you happy here?"
My fork froze on the way to my mouth as I gaped at him, and I slowly blinked, setting my hand back down in turtle speed.
"What do you mean?" I hedged.
"Well, I know you are doing this - the whole training thing - for me, you never wanted to come back. And now you are stuck in this tiny town and you still don't have your own place -"
He stopped as I frowned even more. We were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, plates heaped with excellent food Phil had cooked, and with a salad I had managed to toss together, our working notes still piled up next to us. This was just like everyday, really, it was a routine that had developed during the last couple of weeks. I knew I should keep looking for alternative places to live, for something of my own, but each time I thought about doing it, something else I really ought to do seemed to come up. Truth be told, we lived together just as well as we worked together - sometimes annoyed and bitchy, but always on the right side of reason. And I wanted to stay, I suddenly realized, not only in Providence but at his place, at least for now. Even though he had ruined my favourite pair of white panties by putting a grey shirt into the light laundry last week.
I reached across the table, taking his good hand in mine.
"Phil, I'm here because I want to be here. And I am happy to be your flatmate, if you want to have me around."
"Why wouldn't I?" he sounded confused.
I shurgged.
"We ain't kids anymore."
"Adults can be lonely too, you know," he told me with a smile, "it's warmer with you."
He was right, it was warmer with him as well, warmer than New York had been, despite the freezing temperatures outside. I sighed.
"Well, I'll keep staying with you then for the time being, it seems."
The smile he gave me was almost blinding as he shortly pressed my hand before we went back to eating.
"Mel, are you coming, too?" Phil asked me suddenly.
"Mel?" he repeated as I didn't answer his question.
"Hm? Where?" I asked, still absorbed in my revelations.
"Vancouver. To 'Ice Wings'," he told me slowly, as if I was slightly daft. Maybe I was. "We haven't talked about THAT one. I know you are not doing 'Holiday on Ice', or 'Ice Stars', or 'Art on Ice'. But -" he looked at me expectandly.
I sighed.
You are not giving up, are you?"
"Nope. Mel, everyone will be there."
"Exactly!"I interrupted him, "the who-is-who will be there for the last big hurray of the season to party and kiss-ass. And there will be so much talk if I show up there with you!"
"But it's gonna be fun", Phil almost whined."It's gonna be a huge party! You can meet Fury's people, and we can make bets who is going to hook up with whom, and then we can watch a really great show. Pretty please! Please don't make me babysit all these kids alone!"
"I am not their mom, Phil. And we both know Bobbi and Clint are doing it."
Phil cringed.
"Yeah, unfortunately. I didn't want to know so clearly, honestly. Please, come, don't let me face this alone!"
I pondered for a moment. I really didn't want to, but it was damn hard to say no if Phil was looking at me like that. Unfortunately, a small part of me was also immensely curious and really wanted to see all these promising skaters again, though I could have happily missed out on the press and the drama.
"Ugh, okay. But only that one. And you invite me for drinks, I will need them."
He grinned, boyish in his excitement.
"Of course!"
Flashback - Summer 1991, Toronto
It was a gala, a show, nothing I should be worried or overly excited about, and yet, still I was. Performing was always exciting to me, and when there was no pressure, well, at least no immediate "medal pressure" involved, I kind of remembered that there was an audience around, watching me. It made my nerves flutter in an annoying, exhilarating way. I loved and hated it at the same time, and could do nothing about it.
What made it even worse was that the organizers had not only put me down for my solo performances but also for a group dance with two other single skaters, something I had no real experience with. Who had thought that this was a good idea? Couldn't they have taken a pre-existing team? Apparenty not, or they simply had wanted me in the performance. They had matched me up with a Phil Coulson, a guy that was starting in male single figure skate, about my age, and well-known for his slightly goofy personality and charme in interviews, and with Rosalind Price. We all had met, obviously, Skate America and all that stuff, and Phil seemed nice enough, but I wasn't quite sure what to make out of the idea of him touching me. Like, more than shaking my hand.
He was a good skater, so chance was he at least wouldn't drop me or run me over, but my experience with men (and people in general) was rather limited, so I was understandably weary.
Rosalind Price was another thing alltogether, she had been one of my fiercest opponents during the last couple of competitions and probably would be during the next Olympic Games. There wasn't really bad blood between the two of us, but we weren't friends either.
I watched in anticipation as Phil was skating towards me with a bright smile on his lips, Rosalind nowhere in sight.
"Great, you're here! I guess we will need the practice. Uhm, well, I will, anyway," he added sheepishly, "not everyone is a World Cup Champ. Congratulations, by the way!"
I blushed.
"Thanks, uhm, Phil."
He laughed.
"Sure. Now, we could maybe just skate next to each other, match our steps and stuff?" he asked me without further ado.
I nodded, already turning to start. My feet were scratching over the rgound and I could feel that he was following me, turning so that he was parallel next to me. Honestly, I had no clue what I was doing, so I just tried to do what I had seen my friends do at training camp. When I looked to my right, Phil had a very concentrated expression on his face, but I had to admit we weren't half bad, especially when I started to attune my steps to his a little bit more. The excercise was most likely pointless since the main part of the choreography was made of Phil either turning and lifting Rosalind or me and not skating in synch, but whatever, it couldn't hurt. In any case, I didn't want to be outshone by some beautiful Coulson-Price dynamic!
The length of our steps matched wonderfully, I had to admit, though as I turned around a corner, I suddenly found myself quite lost and Phil gone, about ten metres away from me.
"Where are you?" I frowned, though I wasn't too annoyed.
"You can't just run away!" he complained, but skated to join me.
"You need to keep up!"I complained back.
Now he turned to go, forcing me to keep up, and as he reached out with his hand I took it, building a connection that made it easier for me to find out where he wanted to lead us. Round and round we went, until we finally came to a stop somewhere a bit to the side.
"Alright," Phil proposed, "do you want to try the turns?"
At least my feet would stay on the ground there, I considered.
"Have you learned the choreography?" my new partner wanted to know.
I gave him a scathing look.
"Okay okay. Then let's try that, you come towards me, arm around my neck, my arm at your waist, once around, separating again, but no stop."
We were standing a couple of metres apart, it shouldn't be too hard, I had done these things once or twice before, though I always had had problems regulating my speed with somebody else next to me. As I was skating towards him, I slowed down, getting in position, but didn't quite manage to touch his neck, more a matter of shyness than of technique probably. He covered it easily by holding me tightly, not uncomfortably so but just right, making us go around in a perfect wave. As we tried it again, the same thing happened, and he raised an eyebrow.
"You know you can touch me, right? But if you don't want to, you don't have to. But then maybe should do that pretty hand-wave-thing you are so good at and lean back over my hand."
I blushed, but the next time I actually let my hand linger where it should, finding that due to the speed I didn't even have time to be embarassed about it. Suddenly he took my hand and twisted me around, making me reflexively twizzle on one foot.
"Hey!" I complained, "you should have warned me!"
"But it was good," he argued, "better than when you think about it. Let's do it again, together with the next part, where you go around me and I do these awesome little turns until I face you again."
I humpfed though I agreed and actually everything would have turned out alright, if Phil hadn't messed up his twizzles and ended up facing the wall.
"Again!" I told him.
After three more tries, we started to reliably end up where we were supposed to be, which was far quicker than I had anticipated. We started to link arms for the next turn, a bit weird but much safer than just holding on to something so breakable like a human neck, and after what felt like hundred more tries even the change into a lasso-like figure worked out. He was supposed to slide over the ice on his knees then, like a rockstar, which for some reason made me giggle, which made him blush in return.
"Don't mock me!" he complained in his best Elvis-impression, "after all, you are supposed to be flirty with me and walk backwards like you want me to follow you. Right now you look like you just dumped me!"
He was probably right, but I was far too nervous to think about acting at this moment. I knew the next part of the dance would mainly involve Rosalind, until he would finally dance with both of us at the same time, a real Casanova. The organizers really wanted to milk Ros' and mine rivalry here, I guessed.
"Do you want me to lift you?" he then asked.
"You sure you can handle it?" I wanted to know, "or should we practice somewhere safe first?"
"I did it before, I am sure I can do it again," he told me with confidence.
I raised an eyebrow at him. After all, there had been rumours going around about him and Rosalind Price.
"So you want to drop me to give Ros Price an advantage?" I teased him.
"Nah, she doesn't need it," he snarked back. "You seem scared of a challenge though, Melinda."
"Nope, certainly not. But please, just straight up to try it out, okay?" I asked him.
He nodded, stopping in front of me to put both hands on my hips. With a grin, he lifted me a couple of inches, a lot less than what I would jump by myself, and set me down again.
"Okay?" Despite his snark, there was an honest question in his eyes.
I nodded.
He nodded back, lifting me again, higher this time, while my hands rested on his shoulders. We did this a couple of times, and I became more and more comfortable with the push upwards. I knew the actual lift and turn would be more complicated, and my belly churned a bit at that thought.
"We can try the lift outside," he suddenly offered.
At first I considered refusing, but as I thought about the speed and the unpredictability of another person, I nodded.
"Do you want to practice with Rosalind first?" I asked.
"No clue where she is," he told me, already making his way to the exit.
It made me follow him and we both took off our skates to change into trainers, then we looked at each other as we stood close to the rink.
"I am supposed to lift you by one leg and your waist, but you know that," he repreated, "so-"
He stepped closer, but stopped before touching me.
"Is that okay?"
I nodded dumbly. In response, he put one of my arms around his shoulders and wrapped one of his around my waist. Since I knew what was happening, I lifted up my knee so he could hold it up.
"Ready?"
Did I have another option? He lifted me up, holding me there for a moment, before setting me down again. The next time I remembered to breathe, the time after that even to stretch my toes. Phil was warm, and tall, but not too tall, and safe, and for some reason I suddenly felt that I could trust him. At least trust him not to voluntarily drop me. I couldn't say why, maybe because he kept asking and explaining, but my fear started to vanish. When he started to twirl with me, I even had to grin.
"Enjoying having me work, are we now?"
He dropped my leg onto his thigh, the last part of the figure, before setting me down again. This would work, I realized, we would be great. Just as I wanted to propose going back onto the rink, a shock of reddish hair entered the room.
"Ahh Phil!" Rosalind Price called out, "May."
She gave me a court nod.
"Phil, dear, are you ready to practice our part? Though we actually really don't need to, hmm? But May, it would be GREAT if you were to join us, to get into our vibe, you know?"
Of course I nodded politely, but internally, I was fuming. When we went back onto the ice, I had to agree the other two really worked incredibly well, bringing more performance and playfulness than Phil and I had before. They certainly knew each other very well and had fooled around in partner practice before (fooled around being an umbrella term for whatever activity here, mind you), but I also had to admit that working with these two star athletes was easy in some way. They were good, they knew what to do, and we all had our eyes on the job.
After two hours, the performance was mostly sorted out, at least we thought so, when I suddenly saw someone else enter the rink. It was Nick Fury, Phil's trainer, a legend, but not a legend I knew very well personally.
"Coulson, Price, May!" he called out, making us hurry over. He scrutinized all of us, then nodded. "From the top please, as far as you can go!"
HE started the music, just letting us do our thing, but when we were finished, he looked far from pleased.
"Coulson, your footwork in the middle sequence is sloppy. It's embarassing, especially with the two ladies and their exceptional movements next to you. Price, good, but you drift off. May, good in theory, but this is a performance. So please bring a little bit more flair to it, unless you don't want them to nodd off. Again!"
I tried, I really tried, and it would have likely still been futile, if I hadn't turned around and accidentally glanced at Ros' face. She looked so smug, so happy with herself and the way she was basically throwing herself at Phil - which was, mind you, what she was supposed to do, do I couldn't even blame her - and it annoyed me to the brim. I took a deep sigh, starteling a bit when I suddenly felt Phil behind me as he took up his position.
"It's gonna be fine," I heard him whisper, "just imagine I am something you really want. Like Olympic Gold maybe?"
I choked out a laugh, but the tension eased a little bit. This time when I turned around to face him, I held his eyes, swaying with him and the music until I had to change with Rosalind. This time we were more precise, the turns we did as the three of us were on point. When Phil pulled both of us girls against him for the end position, I winked at me just before he turned away to face Rosalind. I could feel his heart hammer in his chest against my back and I wondered what he was feeling under his hand un my belly. Probably a war drum, after the exercise and the excitement.
The performance in 1992 (May, Phil, Ros) is inspired by "Surrender" by Kristi Yamaguchi, Kurt Browning and Katia Gordeeva. Aside from being super entertaining, I just thought it fit the aesthetics of the throuple and the dynamics so well.