Summary: “I grew up in Los Angeles,” Phoenix complained. “I have no idea what I'm doing.”
Fandom: Gyakuten Saiban
Word Count: 560
Rating/Warnings: PG, fluff
A/N: Written for edwardgrape at gyakusai_swap. Previously posted to fluff_friday.
“I grew up in Los Angeles,” Phoenix complained, awkwardly shoving his foot into the frankly dangerous looking white boot. “I have no idea what I'm doing.”
“You've got them the wrong way around,” Miles told him, leaning down and pushing his hands away.
This was all Miles's fault, as far as Phoenix was concerned. He'd been totally okay with coming to Germany with him for Christmas, but actually going outside was another matter entirely. Phoenix was still a little baffled every time he looked out the window and saw all that white stuff; the resort was so very nice and warm- why leave it?
“There,” Miles said, tying off the skates' laces and tucking them into the tops of his boots. “Think you can stand up?”
Phoenix resembled nothing so much as a newborn foal, his knees wobbling out in every direction. He managed to tremble his way onto the rink, grabbing hold of the guard rail to steady himself.
“Go on without me,” Phoenix told him.
“You're sure?” Miles asked, looking at him warily.
“I just need a sec to get adjusted,” he replied, attempting to smile.
Miles shrugged, executing a perfect lap around the rink. Phoenix said the same thing when he came back around, still glued to the same spot.
By the fifth time, the situation had changed slightly. “It's too late for me! Save yourself!” Phoenix cried, clinging to the railing with all his strength but somehow losing his footing anyway. Distracted by trying to talk and stand at the same time, he lost his balance, finally slipping to the ice and landing with a thud.
Though the lower portions of Phoenix's anatomy were in frosty agony, his face felt like it was on fire, a solid blush spreading up from his neck. Maybe, if he were lucky, it would make him so warm he melted right through the ice, never to be heard from again.
And now Miles was laughing at him.
Scratch that, Miles wasn't laughing, he was howling.
Phoenix started to get angry, but he found he couldn't. He couldn't remember the last time Miles had looked like that- laughing completely unreservedly, totally unguarded, like he was perfectly at ease.
He went on laughing for what seemed to Phoenix to be at least an eternity, doubled up over the railing. When Miles finally straightened up, he wiped the tears out of his eyes with one gloved hand. “Come on,” he said, offering the other to Phoenix.
“You're not going to make me do a lap with you to prove that it's all okay, right?” he asked suspiciously.
Miles snorted. “You're the one who likes lost causes, not me.”
Phoenix gave him a dirty look, but let Miles pull him up and lead him off the ice.
“You're buying me a really big hot chocolate,” Phoenix grumbled, pulling his skates off.
“I can do that,” Miles replied, his lips still twitching like he might laugh again at the slightest provocation.
“You'd better,” he replied lamely.
“Come on,” Miles told him.
Miles slipped his hand into Phoenix's, and Phoenix decided that all of it- the blow to his pride, the cold, even the terrifying experience of sliding around on a sheet of ice with nothing but two thin blades on his feet- had been totally worth it.
As long as he got that hot chocolate.