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He's blushing. This is incredibly alien to you; not being the one who's bright red.
Okay, so you are also blushing. Not being the only one who's bright red. Whatever.
"Hey?" You're still so unbelieving that this is actually a thing that you almost feel like it isn't and you're wrong, so you can't bring yourself to greet him with anything resembling confidence.
Reiner literally jumps, and you bite your lip. You can more than sympathize.
"Hey." He's obviously trying to sound smooth, but unfortunately for him his voice cracks. You wince on his behalf. He clears his throat and keeps going anyways, which is better than you could've done. "Cold out, isn't it?"
You nod, wondering if both of you are going to pretend that's the reason your faces are so red. Considering it's you that probably doesn't really fly, but you're more than happy to go along regardless.
"Holy shit are you actually wearing mittens? That's adorable." He says, well, gushes. He actually goes redder afterwards, like he spoke without thinking and it needed a second to sink in.
"Uh. Yeah," you say softly, suddenly self conscious. More self conscious. You pull your hands behind your back as if to hide them. Your skates clack against the backs of your legs. Hockey skates are so huge and heavy; and you always feel like an idiot when you wear them. You have such big feet anyways that when you put clunky skates on them you look like a cartoon.
Fuck, you're already self conscious enough about the fact that he's got to be at least eight inches shorter than you.
… and probably twice your weight.
His skates are probably about three sizes smaller than yours too. Fantastic.
He has them slung over his shoulder in a casual way that is, as far as you know, pretty characteristic of him. It's hard to say, because you haven't spent too much time with him - you still feel strange thinking that, seeing as he's said himself that you know him better than anyone.
He's very clearly noticed that the two of you are just standing there, but before you can panic too much, he grabs your hand so suddenly it's almost violent. You jump, whipping around to look at him. Now he's absolutely bright red, and apparently very interested in something on the other side of him because he's looking that way with considerable determination.
Oh my god, why do your hands have to sweat so much?
Fortunately with the mittens on he can't notice, and next thing you know he's giving you a light tug. Incredibly gentle, in contrast to how he grabbed hold of your hand. You follow willingly, glad to have someone to lead the way. It makes you feel a lot calmer than you usually do when you're out and about. He lets go of you when he sits on the bench, peeling his gloves off and toeing the back of his boot. He's acting really absorbed in what he's doing, and you know from experience that he's doing it to try and hide how red in the face he is. He sure manages to fumble less than you usually do, regardless. You scramble to catch up to him so he doesn't have to wait on you.
However, there's a reason you're wearing mittens. Once your hands are out in the cold, your long fingers go numb pretty fast and the finesse required to lace up your skates is hard to come by.
"Need help?"
You look up, flushing as soon as you realize he's talking to you (obvious to most maybe, but you're really not used to it).
When you look at him, he goes redder - once again, seeming to notice that he said something only after he said it. "Not that I. Well, not that I think you can't do it, I'm just…"
"My hands are too cold." You say sheepishly, cutting him off to put him out of his misery.
He crouches in the snow next to you without a word, managing to balance somehow even though his skates are already on. He cinches yours tighter and ties them up pretty effortlessly. Even with the angle his head's at, you can see that the shit-eating grin you usually see him with is tugging at his mouth. "Come on, put on your gay mittens and let's g - I mean, not that I'm saying it that way…" he's actually at the point where he's blushing more than you. You can't help but smile a little, both at that and the fact that he thinks you're going to get so upset when all he's doing is tease you like he does his friends.
"My gay mittens are warm." You say as you pull them back on, a little surprised with yourself. You never really try to fight back - even when the conversation isn't very serious. He looks pleased with you, but before you can acknowledge the excited prickle in your stomach at his approval, you realize you have to get up.
The snow's deep enough that you don't have to walk on the blade, but it's still slippery. When you slide off balance a little, his hand grabs your arm in an iron grip.
"Don't fall." He says, with a nervous forced chuckle.
The seasonal skating rink is fairly busy, but not crowded. You're glad; because it means people are less likely to pay attention to you. As you slowly step onto the ice you feel Reiner try to hold some of your weight, but you're really in no danger of falling. On the other hand, he shakes a little on his blades as he follows and his grip on you reflexively tightens for a completely different reason.
"Don't fall," you repeat, finding yourself putting your other hand on his shoulder to steady him before you can really think. Then you suddenly realize you're facing each other; his hand still tight on your forearm and yours light on his shoulder. A hot flush goes through your whole body right down to your toes in a way you've never felt before. You've caught each other's eyes, and though it's clear you're both embarrassed you seem pretty stuck there. You bite the inside of your lip. Your heart beats awkwardly almost in your throat.
It's a really long, oddly expectant moment before he manages to look away, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck nervously again. "Guess we should. Skate, right? Heh."
You haven't skated in a little while, but it's something you never have much of a problem picking back up. He seems a little surprised that you're so graceful, and honestly, you can't blame him. With how tall and lanky you are, you look like you must be clumsy and you know it. Honestly, sometimes you do forget just how long your legs are.
Reiner actually seems to be having more trouble than you are. Though he barely stumbles or even shakes on his skates, it's obvious he's not very confident on them and has to concentrate on his feet a lot more than you do.
Once you get moving, he loosens up enough to chat with you a bit; and it's a lot easier to associate him with the guy you've come to know pretty well through all those notes than the outgoing jock you used to be so intimidated by. There's still a lot of very awkward silences, but at least you can pretend you're paying attention to skating.
When you do that, you end up going a little faster and he ends up falling behind. After the third time this happens, you find yourself unconsciously reaching back to grab his hand.
As soon as you notice, you freeze up; but before you can pull it away his hand slides into yours and grasps it tightly.
When you glance back he's grinning at you, and you quickly have to look down and away to hide your burning cheeks. Your heart is beating so fast it makes you feel a little breathless.
You don't let go.
Time passes incredibly quickly, and before you know it your face is numb from the wind.
"You look cold," Reiner says, tugging your hand so you spin to face him. His cheeks are windburned red.
"So do you." You mumble, glancing down at the ice.
He grabs your other hand as suddenly as he did earlier; and before you can so much as protest, shoves your hands into the partially-open neck of his jacket. "I'm basically a furnace." He says with a grin that fades as he realizes he might want to be embarrassed about what he just did, again. Color blooms under the windburn on his face. He is in fact so warm under his jacket that he's slightly damp with sweat. You didn't notice how numb your fingers were until they started to hurt as they warmed up.
"You're ice," he says, in what you could almost describe as a shy mutter. However, despite seeming shy, he pulls the mittens off your hands and presses them between his own. "Help more without those at this point."
The more your hands warm up, the redder in the face you become. Your heart is doing that weird fluttering thing again, and it makes you so uncomfortable you almost want to squirm away.
But you are warmer by the time he lets you go.
"Don't know about you, but my feet hurt." There's a hint of something in his voice that might be reluctance, but you have noticed that he's been slowing down. It's more your ankles, to be honest - there's muscles you don't usually use and they're pretty damn sore - but you nod for the simplicity of it.
When the two of you sit down to undo your skates, he leans across your lap to untie yours for you. He's blushing furiously, and you can't hope but go really red too with him so close.
"Don't want your hands to get cold again," he mutters as he sits back up, immediately addressing his own skates; probably so he doesn't have to look at you. Understanding that feeling, you look down at your own feet and pull your feet out of your skates so you can put your boots back on.
"… thank you."
You find yourself very conscious of him as you both get ready to go - the way he's breathing just a little bit heavy from exertion, and how his face is still pink. You really want to take his hand again, and wonder if it would be okay. Before you can consider it too much, he speeds up a little - it looks like he's checking some sign up ahead - and another idea entirely occurs to you.
You have no idea where you find the confidence to do it; or even why you think of it, but the next thing you know you're scooping up a handful of snow and tossing it at the back of his head.
Regretting it immediately, you are already glowing red by the time he spins around. Oh god. Oh my god. You must be insane. You open your mouth, ready to choke out an apology.
When he sees it was only you standing behind him, he bursts out laughing, and next thing you know his shoulder is planted in your chest and you fall ass-first in a snow bank.
You're laughing too. You're shaking a little from the shock of how brave you were to do that, but he's laughing and you're laughing and you think he's trying to wrestle with you but you don't really fight back and snow splashes down your coat. You gasp sharply and he immediately stops, gloved hands planted in the snow on either side of your head.
His grin melts into an expression of near wonder. You have no idea how to describe it, but his pupils are huge and he's staring you right in the face.
"Your smile is fucking incredible," he breathes, and your heart feels like it stops as he starts to lean in.
Reiner's mouth is unbelievably warm on yours. Your heart is trying to pound out of your chest, and you can feel your face burning. The snow on his glove makes you gasp again when he shifts a hand to rest ever-so-gently on your neck. Tipping your head back is instinctive, your heart is in your throat, and although you feel vulnerable under him; if anything it is exciting.
Fuck, you're wearing the underwear he gave you.
You should not be so turned on.
Your hand shakes as you reach up to loop an arm around his neck, and he slides his lips against yours. The hot breath from his nose gusts against your cheek and you try to kiss him back. Despite sitting in the snow, having him over you like this is making you hot all over. Your arm tightens around his broad shoulders, and you have to give up and just let him kiss you breathless.
It's not like you have any fucking clue what you're doing.
You are actually panting a little when he pulls back, still with that look in his eyes.
"Wow." He actually says, color flaring up on his cheeks again.
"I'm wearing the underwear you got me." You blurt, going redder than him to the power of ten. As humiliated as you are by the thing that just came out of your dumb mouth, you can't look away from him.
He breaks into another grin. "… double wow."