Work Text:
“Sink’s given us leave to go skiing,” Nix said as he snuck past Zeilinski into Dick’s office.
Dick frowned. He hadn’t requested leave. “Skiing?”
“I’m going to teach you. It’ll be fun,” Nix said, his eyes shining. “You love sports.”
“That’s true,” Dick said. He did love sports. His family had never been rich enough to ski, though. They were solidly middle class, but skiing involved weekends off and equipment and lift passes. His parents had a mortgage to pay. Skiing was for rich people, like yachting and polo. He almost said no out of principle, because he couldn’t justify the expense, but Nix looked more excited about spending the week in the Alps than he had about anything in years.
“I’ll teach you how. You’ll be a natural, I’m sure,” Nix said. “Besides, it’s all about the après ski.” Dick looked confused, so Nix went on. “Sitting by the fire in the lodge drinking hot chocolate, wearing warm knit sweaters… maybe some hot springs too. Ease our sore muscles.”
In the end Dick agreed, but not for the skiing. Nix was always describing these holidays where he’d whisk Dick off to some destination and show him a good time. They’d always been purely hypothetical. They had a war to fight, they couldn’t travel anywhere. This was the first time the invitation meant anything. Dick wanted to see just what Nix was offering.
Dick had told Zielinski to help Nix with the preparations for his trip, and Zielinski had disdainfully liaised with Lew about the travel itinerary and packing list. Dutifully Zielinski found locals willing to sell Dick used ski equipment and packed his bag.
“I don’t think you should go,” Zielinski said on the last day. Dick could tell he said it with reservation, for it had been blurted out and he looked ashamed to have said it.
“What’s on your mind, private?” Dick asked, indulging his orderly.
“Skiing is dangerous, sir,” Zielinski said. “I know it looks fun in the pictures, and the locals seem to love it. But it’s not natural. We need you, sir.”
Dick didn’t think it could be as bad as all that. “I won’t just be going down a steep incline with no practice. I’ll have instruction.”
Dick did not want to make it seem as though skiing would be easy. Likely Zielinski had attempted it and gotten hurt, but that made sense. There was a reason Zielinski was an orderly – he might be brave enough to serve on the front lines, but he was no athlete. Dick had never failed at a sport. In fact, in college his main struggle had been deciding what sports he’d had time for.
Besides, Nix seemed to enjoy it, which meant the sport was likely as leisurely as sailing. It’s all about the après ski, Dick reminded himself with a wry smile.
There was about ten hours where Harry invited himself along. “One last hurrah for the boys,” he’d said, drunk one night at the officer’s card game. Dick was worried the trip wouldn’t really get what he’d wanted out of it. How would he know what things could be like for him and Nix back in New Jersey if Harry tagged along? It would be just as things always were. But in the morning, Harry’d forgotten about the entire thing.
There had been moments over the past four years that had confused Dick. Moments that they didn’t talk about in the morning. At this point Dick didn’t know how much Nix had been drinking back then. Maybe he really didn’t remember what they’d done on cold nights huddled together in that foxhole. They’d only used their hands, and it had only been a couple of stolen kisses, but they’d felt like lovers. There were charged looks too, lingering touches, gentle words of encouragement. But it wasn’t like they had much time alone to talk about it.
They would be discharged in a month or two, and then they’d go home. Nix asked Dick to follow him home to New Jersey. Dick needed to know what that meant but he didn’t know how to ask.
Nix picked him up at his billet in a big Mercedes. Dick preferred riding around in a jeep than a Nazi staff car on principle, but he’d readily admit that it was more comfortable car.
“I’m glad you came. I was worried for awhile you were going to bail. Zeilinski certainly made me think so,” Nix said.
“Sorry if he was a bad sport. I had a lot of paperwork I needed to get done if I was going to go off into the mountains for a week with no distractions,” Dick said.
“Are you saying I have your full attention?” Nix asked. He kept his eyes entirely on the road, but he smiled openly. “Now that I’ve got it, I don’t know what to do with it.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Dick said. Feeling bold, he let his hand graze against the hand Nix had planted on the gearstick. Dick was going to pull his hand away, but Nix reached out two fingers and caught one of his. Nix held Dick’s hand to close to his and kept it there.
“You’re going to like skiing, Dick. It’s like jumping, really. A leap of faith. Cold air on your face. Only instead feeling like you’re falling, you feel like you’re flying. We didn’t get that last jump on Tokyo, but maybe this’ll scratch that mad itch of yours.”
Dick was feeling confident as he laced up the leather ski boots Zeilinski had procured for him. They were already broken in, so they were fairly comfortable. He outfitted himself in wool and knits and leather gloves, and it really wasn’t that different from getting ready for a jump. The trouble started when they went outside, and the skis went on his feet. He did not make it five feet before his legs slid out from under him and he fell on his ass.
The real problem started on the seemingly endless lift. He had not thought to brush the snow off his butt, and it melted almost immediately. The chilly wind against his ass made him feel like he was in Bastogne. His relief, if you could call it that, came a few minutes later when it froze.
“For someone named Winters you don’t do too well in the snow,” Nix remarked as Dick shivered.
Dick forced a bitter laugh to let Nix know exactly how funny he was.
Nix took off his large fluffy scarf and wrapped it around Dick’s neck. “There you go,” he said. Nix inched closer to him, which made Dick nervous because the lifts weren’t exactly secure. To Dick’s surprise, Nix kissed him on the cheek. They weren’t exactly alone here, but there wasn’t anyone on the two chairs behind them, and everyone else was fifty feet below. Nix pulled away quickly, but kept his leg pressed against Dick’s.
Dick had never seen Nix look so graceful as when they slid off the lift. Nix had been good enough to make it through OCS and Jump School, of course, but that had been through sheer will, not natural athleticism. Nix pushed off with each leg like he was skating, his poles seemed like mere props. Dick slid one ski in front of the other, stabbing at the ground in order to stay balanced.
Dick was apparently too slow, for Nix turned around and skied back towards him. Facing him and with his skiis outside Dick’s, he came close towards him. He let his poles hang off his wrists and held his hands out for Dick to take. “C’mon. I’ll help you.”
Dick wanted to prove he could do it himself for his ego had yet to recover from falling before he’d even gotten to the hill, but he couldn’t resist taking Nix’s hands. Nix was surprisingly sturdy.
“Lean forward,” Nix said. Dick could barely see what Nix was doing with his feet, but he was almost skating. Dick was moving now too, being towed by Nix towards the start of the run.
Despite their proximity, nobody who skied by them seemed to notice. Holding Nix's hands in public was almost enough of a thrill for Dick to get over how inept he looked in front of the other skiers.
When they reached the top of the run, Nix let his hands go and moved beside him. “You might fall,” Nix said, “but everyone falls. It’s just how you learn. The trick is getting back up again.”
“Nix, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Dick said, “what do I do with my hands?” Nix’s face twisted in confusion, and he didn’t answer, so Dick went on, “What do you do with your hands?”
“I don’t know,” Nix answered.
Dick looked at him desperately.
“I’ve just been doing it so long I don’t really know what I do. Damn, I should have thought this out better,” he paused to consider. “Well, you use them for balance, so when your hips move to one side, the weight of the poles keeps you from falling.”
That was gibberish. “And what am I doing with my hips?”
“Oh yeah. That’s easy. You keep your legs straight and the skis parallel. And you turn by leaning. Don’t go down straight, you’ll get too much momentum. Move your hips from side to side and approach the hill horizontally.” Nix demonstrated by skiing twenty feet down the hill. “See? Easy! It’s just a bunny hill. For beginners like you.”
It was only when Dick was racing past Nix that he realized he had no idea how to stop. He had no other recourse but to make himself fall into fresh snow rather than hit a tree. Only the snow wasn’t as powdery as it first appeared, and Dick slammed his hip into what felt like ice.
Nix was behind him soon and helped him up. Dick would have preferred to stay on the ground. He was a bit out of breath, but he wasn’t sure why.
“How do you stop?” he asked, looking down and contemplating how many times he’d have to fall to get to the bottom.
“Just put the tips of your skis together and you’ll slow down and stop. Or turn – no, you’re not ready for that…” Nix shrugged. “Don’t worry. We can go slow.”
It didn’t matter how slow they went; Dick somehow found his way to the ground. He was convinced the poles were more of a burden than anything. A sick trick veteran skiers played on adults they’d coerced into getting onto the lift.
After one particularly rough fall, Dick cried out in pain. Nix was soon at his side. “Where does it hurt?” he asked.
“My ass,” Dick said, exasperated.
To Dick’s great surprise, Nix’s hand was on his ass. But it did not give him any pleasure. He pressed down, and Dick groaned.
“Your tailbone might be broken,” Nix said.
Zeilinski had been right. Skiing was not natural.
“Don’t worry,” Nix said. He planted a kiss on Dick’s cold sweaty forehead. “I’ll kiss it better.”
“You better,” Dick said, momentarily forgetting the families that shared the hill with them. “Not now.”
Nix just laughed like some sort of wicked winter demon.
By the time he’d gotten to the bottom, a little girl in a red toque had looped him three times. She looked upon him with pity in the lodge.
“You want to get another run in before dark?” Nix asked.
Dick stared at him, wondering if it was a joke. “I think I’m ready for the après ski.”
“Yeah, alright. You’ll get better tomorrow. Promise.”
There wasn’t going to be a tomorrow, but Dick didn’t say anything about that now. He wasn’t used to the failure he’d suffered today.
Dick could no longer bend properly, so Nix helped him out of his ski boots. Nix pulled a pair of fluffy moccasins out of his bag. “Bought you these when you were in the bathroom,” Nix said, slipping them onto Dick’s feet. The fur felt good against his cold feet. Dick’s jacket, which had been frozen on the hill, became soaking wet by the roaring fire in the lodge. Nix gave Dick the coat from his own shoulders, and packed Dick’s jacket into his bag.
People looked at the two of them, but it was not with disgust or horror at their little intimacies. It was pity for the poor American who seemed to have injured himself on his one trip down the mountain. Just another GI who bit off more than he could chew.
Dick had thought they’d be staying at the lodge. There were rooms above the cafeteria and lounge, and most of the families seemed to go there at dark. But Nix herded him back into the car. They sat in comfortable silence as Nix drove him to the local market. “You can stay in the car if you want. I’ll keep the heat on,” he said, and Dick did just that. Nix emerged with an armful of paper bags which he settled in the trunk. “The chalet’s somewhere around here,” Nix said. “Get the map out, Dick.”
Dick reached into the glove compartment and passed Nix the map. It was no army map; it was hand drawn by the Austrian barkeep who’d convinced Nix to come out here.
It took them a few wrong turns to find the place. The landmarks were all covered by snow. The little a-frame was more rustic than he’d expected it to be. Dick had expected Nix to take him somewhere glamorous, and for Dick to be embarrassed by a gratuitous display of wealth. Instead they lit candles and built a fire together.
“Can I get you out of those clothes yet? Or are you still too cold?” Nix asked. They were still on their knees, the fire had just lit.
“You’ll keep me warm?”
Nix nodded. “I’m a big, fleshy blanket and I’m at your service.”
Dick didn’t have any doubts about Nix’s invitation to come home with him now. He wanted a lover, not a buddy.