Work Text:
Ice Skating: Washington manages to drag Vanessa out to the newly built ice skating rink on Chorus some ten years after the war.
“Kimball, you’re working too hard. Let’s get out and do something for a little while.”
“Wash,” she sighs, “I have so much I have to do.”
“Yes, and how much are you actually going to get done sitting there staring at it? You’ve read two lines in the last thirty minutes.”
“Probably not much, but this stuff has to get done.”
“Vanessa, listen to me. You’re getting nothing done. Be reasonable; take a break, do something you’ll enjoy, and then come back with fresh eyes.”
“Wash, what are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to help you. And since I’m not the president of Chorus, not an official advisor, I can’t help you read, write, or sign any of these documents. But I can help you by distracting you and giving you something else to think of for a while. Then, like I said, you can come back fresh and actually accomplish things. Come on, you know I have a point.” The now-graying-blond leans forward, planting his hands on the front of her desk as she bows her head slightly, rubbing her temples.
“What do you want to do?” She sighs, an eyebrow raising at him in question.
“I was going to leave that up to you. I want to get your mind off things, it’d be better if we did something you actually enjoyed.”
“Well, we have the new ice skating rink. Not sure I could manage to keep my balance on ice skates anymore, I haven’t been since I was about seven, but I always enjoyed it.”
“Then we’ll go ice skating.” The dark-haired woman stands up, stretching and groaning slightly as multiple joints pop.
“President Kimball, Agent Washington, what can I do for the two of you?” Wash barely recognizes the man behind the counter, not more than twenty-seven or so, as one of the youngest soldiers from the New Republic during the war, but can’t recall his name at the moment.
“Two skate rentals, please.”
“Oh… um… of course, ma’am.”
“Wilson, you can drop that. I’m here strictly for pleasure, not business.”
“Of course, ma’am, I mean, President Kimball, I mean… sorry.”
The pair get their skates, head to the benches to lace them up, and head to the rink, not too full of people as most are at work or school.
“Ready?” Wash asks.
“Of course. The real question is, are you up for it… old man?”
“Old man? Oh, is that how it’s going to be?”
“That’s how it’s going to be.” And with that, she steps onto the ice, remembering to bend her knees just before she topples over.
“Oh, you get back here.” The former soldier mutters under his breath, stepping onto the ice behind her. And promptly hitting the ground, causing his partner to burst out laughing.
“How do you plan to catch me like that, Wash?”
“Just give me a few minutes.” Eventually, the light-skinned man makes it to his feet, skating towards the other end of the rink where Kimball is waiting, smile on her face.
“I got you.” He slides to a stop, slipping his arms around her waist.
“Wash…” a slight warning tone creeps into her voice, green eye fierce.
“Kimball…”
“You know we’re in public.”
“And you know it’s no secret to the Chorusians that we spend a lot of time together. They can put two and two together. But I’ll stop if you want.”
“Thank you. You know it’s just…”
“I know, it’s easier to be distant in public. It makes you less vulnerable.”
“Yeah.”
“But I still caught you.”
“Indeed you did.”
An hour and a half later the couple walks back into Kimball’s office, each smiling wide. “I had fun, I’m happy you convinced me to go.”
“Good, I’m glad. Expecting a late night tonight?”
“I think I can make it home at a decent hour, why?”
“I’ll make dinner?”
“That sounds lovely, thank you. I’ll let you know if something changes.”
“Great.”
Three hours later Wash hears a ping from his datapad. ‘Change of plans. Emergency document from the UNSC. Don’t wait up.’
‘Okay, thanks for letting me know. Text me if you want me to bring you something for dinner or any snacks.’ He shoots back, sighing as he stands from the couch in her apartment to put the chicken in the fridge he had intended to use for dinner.
He wonders back to the couch, plopping down on it, deciding that he’s going to go get some pizza for dinner, dropping a text to Dr. Grey to see if the eccentric genius wanted to catch up while he was available.
“Hey, d’you get your work finished?” Wash’s voice is sleepy, mumbled out from his face in his pillow.
“Wash,” her voice is weary, and he notes that it sounds rough as if she hasn’t drunk enough, “I told you not to wait up for me.”
“Wasn’t trying to.” He rolls over, peering up at her as she clicks on the lamp beside her bed. “I couldn’t sleep. Brain was making too much noise.”
“Okay. And to answer your question, yes, I got it finished. I wouldn’t have had the energy to if you hadn’t pulled me to the rink today. Thank you, David, I needed that.”
“Anytime, ‘Nessa.” After she changes into her pajamas and climbs under the covers, Wash rolls further over, draping an arm over her waist and dropping a kiss to shoulder. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she responds, snuggling close to her lover and dropping a soft kiss on his nose before drifting off.