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"Harry, come on, quit being such a baby."
Harry Styles glances up from the spot on the floor he'd been staring at, setting his jaw as he meets his sister's resolute gaze.
"I'm not being a baby. I just don't want to be here," he mumbles sullenly. He shoots a glare at the worn pair of rented skates on the bench next to him. Whose idea had it been to strap bits of metal to your feet and stand on ice with them, anyway?
Gemma is already on the ice, leaning over the half-wall surrounding the rink to talk to Harry. She changes tactics, her voice switching from annoyed to saccharine. "Please, H? It's my birthday, and I really just want to go skating with my wonderful baby brother."
"Your birthday isn't even for a couple of days," Harry grumbles, but he can't resist when his sister turns on the charm. He removes his trainers and shoves his feet into the skates, lacing them up tightly to lessen the chance of turning his ankle.
Once the skates are firmly in place, he slowly stands, wobbling on the unfamiliar footwear. Gemma reaches out an arm to steady him, guiding him over to the railing leading into the rink. "I can't believe you've never been ice skating before," she says, clicking her tongue as Harry takes a timid step onto the ice.
"I can barely go without falling on solid ground, Gems. What part of making me balance on a slippery surface seem like a good idea?" He sways slightly, testing the glide of the skates against the ice. Huh. This doesn't seem so bad.
"You're doing great. Come on!" She grabs his hand and pulls him along, but he isn't quite sure how to keep up with her and ends up falling moments later.
"Ow."
"Harry, we didn't even make it a meter," she says with a sigh, turning around to face him.
He grabs the hand rail, hauling himself back to his feet. His bum is cold and aches from the collision with the ice and he rubs at it, glowering. "I'm trying. Not my fault you're some kind of ice skating prodigy."
She laughs, tossing her thick dark hair. "Not my fault you never came skating with mum and I. We've gone dozens of times, you had plenty of opportunities to learn before you got tall and gangly." She taps her chin thoughtfully, watching the other skaters glide past effortlessly. "They usually have a trainer on staff to help first-timers. I'm going to get someone for you."
"Gems, don't you dare. I don't want to be taught how to skate in front of all these people like I'm a child," he pleads, pulling himself along the railing as she starts to skate away.
"Well, I don't want to spend my birthday outing babysitting my brother. Just let him show you the ropes and then we can skate together, all right?" She blows him a kiss and skates across the rink, approaching a group of what Harry supposes are employees. They all appear to be in their late teens or early twenties, and are wearing matching jumpers with the skate rink's logo stitched on the front.
She quickly engages them in conversation, perched gracefully on her skates as she talks with her hands (Harry usually does as well, but with both feet on solid ground, thank you very much). Shortly after, she's skating back in his direction, one of the employees close behind.
"Harry, this is Louis. He's going to try and teach you how to stay upright for more than five minutes at a time," Gemma says with an exaggerated roll of her large eyes. She places a hand on Louis' arm. "He's all yours. Good luck." And with that she's skating away, entrusting her baby brother's well-being to a total stranger.
A very fit stranger, Harry might add, raking his eyes over the man in front of him. Louis is petite and curvy, with carob-coloured hair sweeping across his forehead and eyes like a hazy sky. He places his hands on the curve of his hips, balancing on one skate with the toe of the other pointed into the ice. "You're a little older than my usual clients," he remarks, his voice light and crisp.
Harry moves to cross his arms across his chest in defiance, but changes his mind when he feels the world tilt. He settles instead for heaving a burdened sigh at the trainer, both hands safely wrapped around the railing. "I didn't ask to be here, for what it's worth. Look, can we just get this over with so I can make my stupid sister happy and go home?" he asks, not bothering to mask the irritation in his voice.
Louis bristles slightly, but raises an inquisitive brow. "Sister, eh? Not girlfriend?"
Harry barks out a laugh, the sound echoing in the cavernous space of the arena. "Definitely not girlfriend." He smiles at Louis for the first time, risking life and limb to spread his hands plaintively in front of him. "Let's face it, if she's my girlfriend this is the worst date ever, and she won't be for long." Especially since Gemma was now skating around the rink in close proximity with a very attractive young lad, giggling inaudibly from this distance. Smirking, Harry reaches back for the safety of the bar but misses, grasping at the air. He can feel his skates slipping out from beneath him, but Louis is at his side in an instant, gripping his arm firmly and holding him upright. "Thanks. You're, er, stronger than you look," he admits sheepishly.
Louis rolls his eyes. "And you're just as clumsy as you look. Now come on, Curly, let's see if we can get you up to speed with the rest of the class." He looks pointedly at a five year-old skating past them with ease before giving Harry a cheeky grin. He holds out both arms, palms up. "Here, hold on to me. I won't let you fall," he promises at the worried look that crosses Harry's face.
Taking a deep breath, Harry grips Louis' strong forearms and allows himself to be pulled away from the wall. He wobbles slightly, but Louis holds tight to his elbows, somehow managing to keep them both upright.
"Okay," Louis says with a determined nod. "Now I want you to act like you're marching. Take one step at a time, but instead of planting your foot when it hits the ice, let it glide." He locks eyes with Harry, all traces of his earlier teasing gone.
"O- okay," Harry stammers, not entirely sure he understands but willing to try, wanting to show Louis that he can manage something so seemingly basic. He takes a timid step, letting his leading foot slide and pushing off of his back foot. Emboldened by Louis' strong grasp holding him up, he lifts another foot, then another, Louis skating backwards to accommodate his progress.
"You're doing so well!" Louis cheers, glancing up from watching Harry's feet to bestow him with a beaming smile. "When you're ready, I want you to stop lifting your feet, and just take turns pushing off your back feet. Think you can manage that?" Louis' voice is gentle but firm, and something about it makes Harry eager to follow through with his instructions.
Harry falters the first few times he tries, but eventually gets the hang of it. He knows he's doing all right when Louis starts critiquing his motions. "Push off at an angle, that's it. Bend your knees a little more. You're doing so well." All the while the other man is skating backwards, never slowing down unless Harry needs help.
"I'm doing it!" Harry calls excitedly, face breaking into a smile. In his excitement he manages to forget what his feet are doing, breaking his stride. "Oops," he says sheepishly as Louis has to grab him around the waist to keep him from falling.
Louis doesn't seem annoyed, however, just the opposite. His eyes are filled with mirth, and his mouth keeps twisting like he's trying not to smile. The movement of his lips is only serving to make his cheekbones stand out more than they already were, and... wow. Standing like this, with the smaller man's arms wrapped around his midsection for support, Harry notices exactly how striking his skating tutor happens to be.
"Don't get too cocky, now. Try again. I want you to start taking bigger strides, yeah? When we start going fast enough for you, just glide along until you need to push off again." Louis' fingers leave a hot trail as they glide up Harry's body and back down his arms, clutching his elbows once more.
Determined to impress his trainer, Harry sets his jaw and pushes off once more, falling into a steady pace. He tries lengthening his strides as Louis had suggested, finding it coming easier and easier with each push. When they pass someone skating lazily around the rink, Harry realizes how much speed they've gained and stops pushing, coasting along on the momentum they've gathered.
Louis' smile is radiant. He seems to be one of those instructors who gets invested in every student, reveling in their successes and aching over their failures. "You've caught on so quick, Harry," Louis praises as they begin to slow down. Louis pulls them to a stop, guiding Harry back to the safety of the handrail.
"That was actually pretty fun," Harry says, breathless with the exhilaration. He'd never quite understood why his mum and Gemma wanted to go ice skating, to bundle up and shuffle around a freezing arena. But just now, the air moving past his face, colors blurring together at the sides of his vision, a pair of warm hands holding him steady... Well, he’s starting to see what all the fuss was about.
Louis shoves his hands in the pockets of his black pants, the fabric snug on his body to avoid getting caught in his skates. "I think you're ready to try it on your own. Start from the beginning again, but this time I want you to hold your arms out to balance yourself." He holds his arms out to demonstrate, marching along the wall as easily as strolling down the sidewalk. Harry is amazed by how at home the other man seems on the ice.
Here goes nothing, he tells himself, slowly lifting his arms as he lets out a nervous breath. He takes one hesitant step, then another, and then he's made it several meters and hasn't fallen over. Louis is following him, just inside of Harry's field of vision, ready to catch Harry should he fall.
Comforted in the knowledge that he has a safety net of sorts, Harry moves on from marching to simply gliding, and before long he's full on skating. His movements aren't as polished as the other patrons skating by him, his arms wobbling now and again as he fights to maintain his balance, but he is indeed moving forward, gaining speed. "Louis, I'm doing it! I'm skating!" he cries, continuing to accelerate.
"You're smashing it!" Louis' voice calls from much farther back than Harry expects. It's then he realizes that Louis is no longer beside him but had stopped a ways back, just watching Harry continue skating.
The realization makes Harry's heart pound, but he'd determined not to mess up now. He swallows hard and continues propelling himself along, finally reaching a high enough velocity that he lets himself glide across the ice.
It's only when he sees a familiar brunet up ahead that he realizes he's made it the entire way around the rink. Louis is actually cheering from the side of the ice, arms raised above his head and calling out shouts of encouragement.
Harry aims himself toward Louis, eager to hear the other man's thoughts on Harry's progress. As he approaches his instructor, he realizes one key piece of information: Louis didn't teach him how to stop.
"You didn't teach me how to stop!" Harry's voice comes out fast and panicked as Louis blanches. He's just gliding along, but he's going far too fast to catch the railing and trying to turn will either throw him across the path of the other skaters or end with him wiping out spectacularly.
Louis seems to have recovered from the fright, because in a fluid motion he's skating straight at Harry, catching the taller man around the abdomen and tugging him out of harm's way. The impact sends both of them toppling over onto the ice, Harry landing on top of Louis with a muffled oof.
The cold wetness from the ice is starting to seep through Harry's clothing, but he can't bring himself to wrench his shocked gaze away from Louis' own look of surprise. The lines in Louis' forehead melt away and he's laughing, giggling even, and Harry's laughing too, and they're just a tangled mass of bodies having a laugh on the ice like it's a completely natural thing to do.
Eventually their fit subsides and Louis disentangles himself from Harry, climbing to his feet. He pulls Harry up as well, making sure the younger man has a firm grip on the railing before rubbing at a spot on his hip. "That one's going to bruise, I'm afraid," Louis says, wincing at the contact.
"Sorry I knocked you over. Thanks for stopping me," Harry says gratefully. His knee is a little sore from where he hit the ice, but other than that he's no worse for the wear.
The pain disappears from Louis' face, replaced instead by a smile that crinkles the skin around his eyes. "You really were doing well, up until the falling bit," he praises.
"Heeey," Harry pouts. "I only fell because my tutor didn't teach me how to stop. What kind of skating instructor are you, anyway?"
Louis grin takes on a mischievous tilt. "I'm not," he says, matter-of-factly.
Harry blinks once, twice, trying to process Louis' words. "I'm sorry, what?"
The smaller man is examining his fingernails, still wearing a shit-eating smirk. "I said, I'm not a skating instructor. Sorry," he says, meeting Harry's eyes.
"But Gemma went to get me an instructor! You're wearing the staff jumper!" Harry protests, not willing to believe that the handsome stranger he had entrusted his life–well, okay, that was a little drastic, but his well-being in any case–to was actually just that, a random stranger.
Louis looks down at the jumper, tugging at the fabric. "Yeah, they sell these in the gift shop. The actual staff wear jackets," he replies, nodding his head at a blond woman with an embroidered black windbreaker across the ice.
Harry's mouth opens and closes silently, utterly confused. "Then... Why did you offer to teach me?"
"I thought you were cute," Louis replies with a shrug. "Still do, actually. I guess I was hoping you might fall madly in love with me if you weren't too busy tripping over your feet." He gives Harry a playful wink. "Or, at the very least, that you'd give me your number."
Harry just stares at the other man, stunned, though the thought he thinks I'm cute he wants my number HE THINKS I'M CUTE running through his head on a loop is enough to warm Harry's entire body.
"Er, all right, then," Harry replies eventually, still not able to believe this is happening to him. This is something from a romantic comedy. Handsome strangers don't just trick you into skating with them at your sister's birthday outing in real life. And oh, right, Gemma.
As if thinking of her had summoned her into being, Harry's sister slides to a stop in front of the pair, the toe pick on her skate sending up a small spray of ice. "Well, how'd it go, then?" she asks, pink-cheeked and looking between Harry and Louis expectantly.
"Brilliantly," Louis replies smoothly, taking a card from his pocket and slipping it into Harry's hand. "Your brother is a very fast learner. I think he'd do well with some proper lessons."
Harry blushes at the praise but Gemma gapes at Louis, all wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person? I don't believe it."
Louis titters, eyes sparkling. "He'll just have to show you." He fixes his attention on Harry. "That's my card. Call me and we'll set something up, yeah?" When Harry nods slowly, Louis positively beams. "Great. I'm looking forward to it, Curly." And with a final wink and a toothy smile, Louis is gliding away gracefully.
Gemma blinks after him. "Well," she says after a pause, "that is not how I expected that to go."
Harry's shaking his head, chuckling to himself as he slips the little card safely into his pocket. "You have no idea," he replies.