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It’s been a long day at work and you’re absolutely exhausted. Despite working behind the concession stand for eight hours, your stomach is growling with a vengeance and your head is pounding. You finish packing up your things, wave to Jake, the guy you work with and come out from behind the counter.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see a figure spinning on the ice. Probably just another figure skater, you tell yourself, but something makes you stop outside the glass and peer inside.
The man who’s spinning is flawless in both his technique and his appearance. Dark, curly hair spills out from underneath his knitted hat and his cheeks are especially rosy against his pale complexion. You don’t even notice you’re really staring until he comes to a stop and stares back at you.
You blush furiously as he waves. Damn, this is embarrassing. Maybe I should go over and apologise, you think. Yes, apologise!
“I’m so sorry,” you say, jogging over to him, breathless. “You’re technique is amazing, I mean, I’ve seen other skaters you know, because I work here, and tons of people have so much talent, ha, all I can do is cook burgers and pizza and take change, but anyway, I mean, I just didn’t even know I was staring and—” You stop talking abruptly and become aware of two things. Firstly, you’re rambling on like an idiot, not even pausing for a breath. Secondly, you find yourself lost in this man’s eyes. In fact, you can’t even tell what colour they are. Green? Blue? Grey? Ocean mist?
“It’s okay.” he assures you. “I actually haven’t practised here before, but it was nice to have an audience.” His smile is the warmest thing you’ve ever seen. “I’m Benedict by the way. Benedict Cumberbatch.” He hastily removes a glove and extends his hand.
“Oh! I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you!”
“And you. You uh… work here every day?”
“No, just Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. And Saturdays.”
Benedict grins. “So, almost everyday. Whoa!”
You feel hot suddenly and your knees buckle. Benedict catches you and although you’ve just met, you’re extremely grateful. “S-sorry. Again.” you mutter, trying to get back on your feet. “I haven’t eaten today.
Benedict looks aghast. “Really? I’ll take you to get something, my treat.”
“You don’t have to, I mean, you look like a busy guy.”
“Not really and besides, I just ice-skate for fun. You in the mood for fish and chips? I know a great place.”
Fish and chips! Your favourite.
“I do feel in the mood for it.” you admit. “That sounds fantastic.”
“Let’s go, then. You’re done working, right?”
“Yeah, I get off at 6:00.”
“Perfect,” Benedict says, grabbing your hand, “let’s go.”
“Myc’s?” you inquire, chuckling at the name.
“It’s good.” he presses, dragging you into the shop. It appears to be a pub, drowned in a gentle, warm light. People are laughing loudly at the bar and it’s generally pretty packed.
“Y/N, you want to sit here?” Benedict gestures to a booth, tucked away in the corner of the pub.
You shake your head. “Yeah, that’s perfect.”
Benedict sits across from you and your stomach growls in protest.
“You must be very hungry.” His eyes widen a little in concern as he waves a waiter over. “Can we please get a large basket of fish and chips?” he asks politely.
The waiter nods pleasantly. “Right away, sir.”
Benedict’s eyes are twinkling.
“You really can’t wait for this food, huh?”
“It’s amazing, you’ll love it!”
“I’d pretty much eat anything at this point.” you say with a small smile, then immediately turn scarlet as your dirty mind betrays you. “But I guess not anything.”
Benedict laughs. “You must blush a lot.”
“I suppose I do.” Your face falls a little, although you know he didn’t mean it as an insult.
“It’s cute though.” he adds quickly and grabs your hands across the table. “I mean, yeah, I like it.”
After staring into his eyes for nearly ten minutes, the waiter brings out a huge plate of fish fingers and chips. Your mouth waters. “Mmm…”
“Just wait ‘til you try one. Here.” He holds up a fish finger expectantly. Finally, you realise what he’s trying to do, so you pick up one yourself and lightly tap his fish with yours.
“Cheers!” you laugh, biting into the hot goodness. Hot. HOT. Holy God, it’s hot!
“Wow, you’re right.” Your voice is a bit muffled as you try to talk with your mouth full. “These are fantastic.”
“I knew you’d like them. Lemon?”
Your dinner with Benedict goes swimmingly. It’s the best date you’d ever had— wait, date? It was a date, right? It must’ve been because you walk out of the restaurant holding Ben’s hand.
“That was lovely, Y/N. You’re lovely.” he adds, squeezing your hand a little.
“I had such a great time. I’m disappointed it has to end here, though.”
Benedict frowns. “Here? Why here?”
“That’s my flat over there.” You point across the street.
“Do you have a curfew?” he asks mischievously. How could you say yes?
“Of course not!”
“How about we go ice-skating? When does the shop close?”
The butterflies in your stomach are flitting wildly. “Er, around 10:00, I think.”
“Perfect.” He raises his arm for a cab and helps you into it. Now might be a great time to tell him you don’t know how to skate, you think to yourself.
“Oh, hey, Ben? I er, don’t know how to skate.”
To your surprise, Benedict starts to laugh. “You work at an ice-skating rink, but you don’t know how to skate?”
“I work at the concession stand!”
He grins. “I guess I’ll just have to teach you, then.”
Thankfully, the ice-skating rink is near empty. Apparently, people have other things to do rather than ice-skating with the love of their life.
“Right, here.” He hands you a petite pair of cream-coloured skates and begins putting on his own black skates.
“I’ll lace you up.” he offers and you don’t argue.
“How long have you been skating?” you inquire as he ties your laces.
Benedict ponders this. “Hmm… six years? Seven?”
You can’t help the gasp that follows his statement. “Wow!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t show off.” Ben winks at you and helps you to your feet. “Come along, Y/N.”
You both slide onto the ice and you’re immediately glad you didn’t fall yet. It feels like you’re trying to walk on a anti-friction surface, like in the sci-fi films you love so much. Come to think of it, the ice-rink’s probably just about frictionless.
“What’re you thinking about?” Benedict interjects, slipping his hand into yours again.
“Falling. I’m pretty clumsy.”
“Oh, it can’t be that bad.” He pulls you forward a bit. “Look, we’ve just made our first lap ‘round.”
“Really? Wow, it d-doesn’t feel like it.” Your voice only shakes a little, but it’s enough for Ben to hear. He slows to a stop.
“Are you cold?”
With the way you’re shivering, you figure it’s no use lying anyway. “A bit. My hands are warm though.”
He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over you.
“Benedict, I—”
He waves you off. “Oh, Y/N, don’t even try to get out of that one. You’re cold, I’ve got a jacket. End of story.”
Smiling, you start skating again. “I… I think I’ve got it.”
Benedict grins. “You’re doing it!”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re flailing your arms like a panicked child and slipping backwards. You squeal and collapse directly into Ben’s arms. You giggle nervously. “Okay, I’ve almost got it.”
“Y/N, you look so beautiful tonight.” Benedict murmurs and your faces are literally inches apart. You manage to smile but you feel as if you’re melting into the ground.
“Thank you.”
“You’re blushing again.” he whispers and one of his hands finds its way to the back of your neck. Benedict leans down and kisses you gently. His lips are so soft and you just go with it, loving the taste of his mouth.
“Oh my God, Ben. Do you happen to give skating lessons?” you ask, somewhat breathlessly.
“I do now.” he responds, kissing you once more.