Work Text:
Kael’thas can’t remember the last time he went skiing. If you asked him, he wouldn’t be able to recall a time where he went: that’s how long ago it was.
Thinking about it, there is no proof he ever went skiing at all, which is an oversight he should have realized earlier. Before he was stranded on a mountainside with two planks of wood stuck to his feet and no idea what to do, that is.
But let’s not start there. That’s a mortifying situation, and the least you could do is approach it with sufficient context.
It all starts, as most of their shenanigans do, with Halduron barging into the dorm room Kael’thas and Rommath share. It’s not in any way or form an unusual event, but the door slamming against the wall still manages to startle the two mages so hard they almost fall from their seat (or, in the former’s case, his desk, because he cannot and will not sit properly).
“Guys!” He yells, breathless. “I come with great news.”
And then he stops, resting his hands on his thighs and panting. Kael’thas, who had stayed frozen with a hand clasped on his chest in shock, straightens slowly as he glares at him in outrage. Rommath looks from Halduron to his homework with a disinterested look, like he’s trying to settle on which one is the least interesting to him at the moment.
Finally, Halduron continues.
“You know how Lor’themar’s aunt is like, filthy rich, right?”
Kael’thas sneers. He hasn’t met Ophelia Theron many times in his life, but he remembers her being a terribly annoying, shrill woman who insisted on pinching his cheeks at every opportunity. She also tends to flaunt her wealth in the tackiest way, which isn’t in her advantage. “Yeah? So am I. What’s your point?”
“She’s offered to lend us her winter home for a week!” At their lack of response, he adds, “You know. The one next to a ski resort.”
Rommath doesn’t need much more incentive to pay attention to Halduron, because he’s a weirdo who is still into sports despite PE not being mandatory anymore. If anything it’s gotten worse since high school, now that no one can legally stop him from doing extremely dangerous things in the name of exercise like the adrenaline junkie he is. He swivels in his chair and lets out an enthusiastic “Hell yes,” and Halduron grins in return.
The two start talking about plans and road-trip and day pass, the third inhabitant of the room all but forgotten.
Kael’thas, as previously mentioned, hasn’t seen snows higher than his ankle in a decade at last, and has promptly and happily dropped all exercise when he started college, trusting in his awful diet and sleeping pattern to keep him skinny, if not healthy. He’s not a very active person. He enjoys his comfort and doing only as much effort as he absolutely must. And he abhors the cold.
But he hates being alone during winter break just a little bit more, so he only grumbles a bit and goes with it. It’s not like they will force him to ski, anyway. He can chill (eh) in front of the fireplace with mulled wine and a trashy crime novel while they go gallivanting on the slopes.
It’ll be fine.
Turns out his friends know him a lot better than he thought, and use this knowledge for evil and evil only.
They each drive an hour of the six hours trip, save for Rommath who drives the last two and takes advantage of that to act like a tyrant with the radio, citing ‘driver gets to choose the music’ like it’s a valid reason for playing two hours straight of emo rock. After such a trip, Kael’thas only dreams of collapsing on a bear rug and maybe taking a nap or something, and the desire only grows when they drop their bags in the chalet and
At that, Lor’themar says, “We should take advantage of the time we have.”
“Sure, you do that. I, on the other hand, am going to relax, drink some hot chocolate and stay dry.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten-” Rommath leans backward. There’s a devious glint in his eyes Kael’thas knows all too well. “Someone is too scared to go skiing.”
Kael’thas knows exactly what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to appeal to his pride, which is always a safe bet considering he has more pride than common sense on any given day. He sees clear through him.
Won’t stop him from falling for it though.
“I’m not!”
Lor’themar glances at Rommath, then at him, and smiles. “You know, it’s alright if you’re afraid of-”
He throws his hands up and turns around, striding back to the car. “Fuck you!” He cries out, because he got played and he deserves to be mad about his own faillibility.
On the first day, his friends take pity on him and keep him company on the green circle slopes. He’s not really skiing, more like falling down in a controlled manner, and Rommath mocks him endlessly for his baby deer-like lack of grace, as if it’s his fault there’s nothing less natural than sliding down a mountainside with two planks glued to his feet. They end the day on a blue square, on which he loses a ski and also his dignity, and dinner finds him cold, grumpy and full of hate.
The second day of their trip, he wakes up with the sun shining through his window. It’s apparently too late: the three adrenaline junkies woke up at the crack of dawn to tackle some more challenging slopes. Aethas is too awkward to push when he answers his “Do you want to go skiing?” with a sharp, final “No,” and so he gets to spend the day lazing around like he intended to.
They don’t make the same mistake on the third day.
Seven a.m finds them dressed for the cold and waiting for the chairlift. Lor’themar, Halduron and Aethas are talking animately — way too animately for the early morning — while Rommath checks Kael’thas’ gear, ignoring his grumbling.
“You can just give up, we won’t judge you,” he says rather unconvincingly.
Kael’thas gazes at the peak they are about to travel to and sighs. “Yes you will.”
“Yup,” Rommath agrees, taps his chest twice in a semi-reassuring manner, and then waddle to the others.
It’s when they’re already up in the air that Kael’thas, looking at the impressive length of the run, remembers the little symbol he saw on a sign down the slope.
“Hey, Rom,” he asks. “How difficult is a double diamond?”
All conversation freeze. Slowly, carefully, Rommath looks up, at the peak, then down, at the sign they can still barely make out. The silence is broken by a loud swear, followed by Halduron, whose cackling shakes the chairlift and makes Kael’thas grips the side tighter.
“Oh god, he’s going to die,” he manages to choke out between bouts of laughter.
At this point, he thinks that he’d like to.
They stand for a moment at the very top of the slope.
“Yep,” Halduron says, popping the p. “That’s a double black diamond alright.”
“Cool,” Aethas replies, looking a little faint.
“Cool,” Lor’themar repeats, sounding like he actually believes it.
And then, because they’re all assholes, they all look at Kael’thas with varying degrees of pity and throws themselves forward.
He immediately scrambles for Rommath to make sure his friend won’t do the same.
“Relax, we’ll get you down there safely.” A pause. “Somehow.”
“Alive would be a good start! Actually, I’m pretty sure I could get airlifted out of here— Light knows I’m rich enough for this kind of bullshit— Rommath I don’t want to die—“
“Is everything alright here?”
Kael’thas jumps, startled. His skis drift an inch forward with the movement and he freezes, holding his breath and biting his lips, eyes caught on the far, far away sight of the station. He gulps loudly and then, slowly, looks to the side and then up, to the towering figure of the one addressing them.
He is taller than him by a good foot at least, and stands easily balanced on a snowboard. The unflattering clothes hide much of his build but his skimask is pushed up on his forehead, revealing—
Wow, that’s a very nice face.
“My friend is a newbie and we accidentally brought him here,” Rommath explains, shrugging lightly.
The stranger chuckles. “How do you-” He shakes his head. “No matter, I’m not sure I want to know. Do you need help going down?”
Kael’thas frowns, his pride fighting the stomach-twisting fear of his situation, before he manages to grit out, “Yes. Please.”
He looks at Rommath then, who shrugs again. “I’ll be fine.”
“Got it. I’m Illidan, by the way,” he introduces himself, putting his mask back on. “I hope you’re comfortable with manhandling.”
“Wha-”
He doesn’t get to finish his thought, or his sentence. Illidan bends down and, easy as breathing, scoops him in his arms. In a moment he’s holding Kael’thas bridal-style, skis and all.
He’s left briefly shocked until Illidan says, “See you down there!” and, with a twist of his hips, starts going down the double black diamond run.
Kael’thas’ yell gets stuck in his throat and he can only clutch Illidan’s ugly, neon-green jacket as they careen down the slope, wind whistling in his ears. He screws his eyes shut, heart stopping at each bump they ride. Illidan doesn’t seem tense in the slightest, manoeuvring his board easily despite the added weight of a full-grown, ski-ready man in his arms.
And then, as suddenly as it started, they stop. He drags in a shuddering breath and peeks through his eyelashes to see the world standing comfortably still, no landscape passing at breakneck speed and no ground rushing at them as they slide down.
They made it down. Safely, and alive.
Illidan hasn’t let go of him yet, though.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he says.
“It was worse,” Kael’thas replies. He’s mortified to realize his voice is barely more than a squeak, and he clears his throat before continuing in a lower, if no calmer voice. “It was awful. I almost died, and I fucking hate skiing.”
He feels Illidan’s chest move against his side as the other man chuckles before gently putting him back down. He keeps a steadying hand on his back until he’s sure Kael’thas won’t fall on his ass as soon as he lets go.
“I think you’re being a little dramatic.”
Kael’thas glares up at him, throwing his shoulders back as if it will help with the height difference. Unfortunately, nothing short of high heels will get him at eye-level of this man. “I am not, thank you very much.” He points a finger at Illidan’s chest. “Just for that, you owe me breakfast.”
Illidan takes off his mask, allowing him to see his quirked eyebrow and amused expression. “Aren’t you the one owing me something? I did just save you from going down that slope on your ass, after all.”
He looks away, but only so he can takes off his skis, leaving him only in his heavy boots. “You know what? At this point I don’t care. Take me to breakfast, ski-man. I need pancakes before my heart realizes what happened and decides to stop.”
He hums, quietly amused. “We can’t have that, do we?” He steps off his snowboard and takes it under his arm, looping the other under Kael’thas’. “But I think you deserve it.”
Kael’thas snorts. Damn right he does.