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Alfred stands with his hands on his hips, looking at the man across from him expectantly. “Keeks? What’cha waiting for?”
Kiku grips the railing tightly, knuckles near white. He glances from the neon swirls and triangles patterned across the carpet back up to Alfred. “What do you mean?”
The blonde doesn’t say anything for a moment, watching Kiku. “Don’t tell me,” He says, his lips pulling into a grin that makes Kiku’s heart flutter and temper flare, “You don’t know how to skate, do you?”
Of course he doesn’t. The last thing on Kiku Honda’s mind in 1987 is learning how to roller skate - he is more concerned with his booming economy and the interesting rise of video games in his country to even glance towards the west.
That is, until Alfred reached out to him suddenly in 1984 via a written letter, of all things.
His handwriting had stayed the same, Kiku noted, and briefly wondered why he remembered what Alfred’s handwriting even looked like before picking up a pen to write back. Conversation felt natural with him, as it always did, and Kiku found himself looking forward to his daily mail run every day for months.
Letters were quickly forgotten once Alfred worked up the nerve to call him, completely forgetting about time zones for a moment as shaky fingers dialed his number.
“Were you, like, sleeping?” Kiku would have laughed were it not for his yawning, and he was almost worried Alfred would hang up. “Oh, shoot, time zones are actually a thing and I didn’t - I’m really sorry. I forgot you’re literally across the world.”
“It’s alright,” Kiku said, and it really was okay, he realized, “I needed to wake up early for a meeting, anyways.”
The man laughed, and Kiku, half-asleep, smiled despite himself. “Okay, if you say so. I just felt like calling you, I guess. I mean, I know I could just send another letter, but… actually talking to you is different, you know?”
Kiku sat up in his bed straighter, pulling his knees to his chest. “Yes. It’s a nice kind of different. Though, I am in the middle of replying to your last letter.”
“You could just tell me right now!”
So he did, for the next four hours. It was almost scary how easy the two were able to keep a conversation going, jumping from one topic to the other, updating each other on trivial things - “Pochi’s birthday is coming up soon, I’ll be sure to take plenty of photos for you” - and even falling asleep to the other’s voice. Kiku was constantly trying to keep up with Alfred’s slang, stopping to ask what this meant and how that related to those - “When I say ‘how very’, it just means that something’s really wicked, which doesn’t mean ‘bad’, it’s just another word for ‘rad’, which is just…” - and had to keep himself from laughing outright whenever Alfred offered those very explanations.
It came as no surprise to either of them when Kiku mentioned purchasing a plane ticket to Los Angeles, idly wondering about the sights and places to stay.
“There’s a sick place I usually kill time near the hotel you’re staying at, if you’re down to come with,” Alfred said as Kiku packed his bag a little too eagerly. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”
Kiku shooed Pochi out of his suitcase for the fifth time that evening, cradling his phone between his ear and shoulder. “If you’re recommending it, it must be - what’s the word? Gnarly.”
However, as Kiku laced his roller skates with tense fingers, he figured his bruises were going to be the only gnarly things to come out of this.
Alfred laced his skates with the fluidity of someone who skated often, practically slipping them on and making a beeline for the rink. Kiku stood from his bench with trembling legs, clutching the railing as he slowly made his way towards the entrance to the rink. The glossy, wooden floor gleamed under the disco ball lights, and the man suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to his hotel room and save himself from the embarrassment that was surely about to happen.
His skating partner had already done a lap around the rink, head bobbing to the music being played on the speakers. Bright neon dyed his hair blue and pink, bringing out the familiar sparkle in his eyes that Kiku nearly forgot, and he found it hard not to stare.
Now that they stand - well, Kiku is nearly crouching over the railing - across from each in the middle of a roller disco, Kiku wonders if it was even worth coming to L.A. in the first place.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Alfred laughs, skating to meet Kiku at the entrance to the rink. “We coulda done something else.”
“You-You were looking forward to this. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Kiku says, nearly slipping when he tries to move his left foot.
“I was just looking forward to hanging out with you, Keeks. We could have gone mountain climbing and I would have been just as excited.” When Kiku ducks his head and doesn’t answer, he holds his hands out. “Come on, it’s easy. And you’re wicked smart, you’ll leave this place skating circles around me.”
Kiku considers his hands for a moment, frowning. His heart hammers against his chest, but he isn’t sure if it’s because of the skates on his feet or the man in front of him.
Surely, slowly, however, he slips his hands into Alfred’s.
They’re as warm as he remembers, and he tries to focus on that rather than how he’s being pulled onto the busy rink with literal children that were skating better than himself.
“So the trick is to keep your hips low, and don’t tense your knees up or you’ll fall on your ass.” Alfred says, guiding Kiku forward as he skated backwards. “Try to move your whole body from side to side, so you stay balanced.”
“When did - When did you learn how to skate so well?”
“Uh… I think it was in ‘72? Or a little earlier than that. I just picked it up and kept practicing.”
Kiku scoffs, tightening his grip as he tries to mimic with Alfred instructed him to do. “You were always quick to pick things up, Alfred.”
The blond snorts, “Is that jealousy I’m hearing?”
“You must have heard wrong.”
“Huh. Then I can let go.” Alfred suddenly pulls his hands from Kiku, who quickly scrambles to find his balance and ends up crashing into Alfred’s chest. Kiku’s face flushes, and Alfred only laughs.
“Don’t - Don’t let go like that again!”
“As if I would let you fall on your face!” Alfred pulls one of his hands away to skate alongside him, subtly lacing their fingers together. Kiku notices, but doesn’t complain. It was probably best for his balance, anyways. Certainly.
“Come on,” Alfred says, pulling him forward with easy strides, “Let’s do one more lap ‘round the rink.”
Kiku only falls backwards twice, and forward once, which is apparently much better than Alfred’s first time on skates. He doubts it, but accepts the validation over a too-sweet cherry slushie.
Alfred skates back to their table next to the rink with his own bright blue slushie in hand, along with a basket of fries. “On me. Since, you know, I didn’t tell you you were gonna bust your ass today.”
Kiku gladly takes a fry from the basket. “It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. If anything, this has made me realize that I definitely need to… get out more.”
“Y'all got roller rinks or discos at your place?”
“I’m sure. I just haven’t noticed or looked. This seems like something that would be popular with younger people.”
“Keeks, you make it sound like you’re a gazillion years old.” Alfred laughs when Kiku gives him a look, biting into a fry. “I mean, yeah, you’re a few thousand years old, but not that old. You’ve nearly got this skating thing down.”
“You’re still as optimistic as ever,” Kiku says. “I can’t skate around the rink without holding onto you.”
“You can hold onto me as long as you want to. I’m not gonna let you fall.” Kiku knows he only means it in terms of roller skating, but he can’t help the quickening of his heart. He pushes these rose-tinted thoughts away with more fries and a change in subject.
They’re halfway into a heated debate over Nintendo versus Sega when Alfred’s attention drifts to the DJ booth at the end of the rink, where a blue neon sign sits just above it that reads “Roller Disco”.
Kiku glances in the direction he’s staring at. “What is it?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Alfred chews on his straw absentmindedly. “I just really dig this song. Queen’s one of my favorite bands.”
“They’re the ones who did Bohemian Rhapsody, right?”
“Yeah! A bitchin’ record. You know, Arthur thinks they’re mediocre. He likes that punk stuff from his place, Sex Pistols.” Alfred leans back in his chair, rolling his eyes. “At least I didn’t get my music taste from him.”
Kiku laughs. “Why don’t you skate to this song, then?”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
He waves him off, shaking his head. Alfred promises to be back in “a jiff”, which Kiku guesses is similar to a minute or so, and practically bolts towards the entrance to the rink. Kiku finishes his slushie and the rest of the fries while watching him skate with a gracefulness he didn’t even think could come from someone like Alfred. He made it look easy, shifting his weight and keeping a natural posture as he glided through the crowds of people on the rink.
Kiku wishes he had a camera with him.
He is so lost in the dreamy atmosphere of the neon and glittering lights that he doesn’t notice Alfred skating towards him, hitting the railing and startling Kiku out of his head.
“Hey, do you come here often?” Alfred isn’t even out of breath as he leans against the railing and over their table.
Kiku scoffs, ignoring the cheesy grin on Alfred’s face. “From my skating skills, it’s obvious I don’t.”
“So you’re just here for the crappy slushies and greasy fries?”
“Don’t worry about what I’m here for. I’m here, aren’t I?”
They don’t say anything for a moment, the only sounds around them being Freddie Mercury’s voice blasting through the speakers and wheels hitting the wooden floors. They just look at each other.
The song changes to something slower, and Kiku knows he must have heard if before because he recognizes the voice but not the beat, but Alfred clearly recognizes it from the way he straightens up.
He offers a hand to Kiku, “Well, since you’re here, wanna skate with me?”
Kiku smiles, and realizes he does that alot with Alfred. He takes his hand. “If I fall, I’m pulling you down with me.”
Somewhere in the middle of the song, Alfred does let go of Kiku, who only panics for a few seconds before he finds his balance and rights himself. He pushes off with his left foot and falls into rhythm easily, turning around to face Alfred with a laugh.
“See? I told you you were a natural!” The blonde skates to meet him. “You don’t even need to hold my hand anymore.”
Kiku shakes his head, “I know, but…” He reaches for Alfred’s hand to lace his fingers with. “It doesn’t hurt to hold onto you.”
Alfred flushes for the first time that evening, a bright pink that darkened the freckles scattered across his cheeks. “I - I mean, yeah, if you want to, you can. I’m not - I’m not complaining. Um,” Kiku pulls him forward, skating next to him. “Just so we’re, like, clear - this was a date, right?”
Kiku almost falls backwards, but manages to right himself. “I -I’m not… I’m not opposed to it. You paid for the skates, after all. And the food.”
“Okay,” Alfred says. “I just wanted to be sure. I’m not gonna lie, I kind of felt something between us since we’ve been talking on the phone, but I didn’t want to misread the atmosphere.”
“That’s… quite adult of you, Alfred.” Kiku laughs when Alfred shoots him a look. “You didn’t misread anything. This was a date.”
“Wanna try ice skating for our second date?”
“You’re just trying to get me to break an arm, aren’t you.”