Ubbe/Jordan Patrick Smith

An Ice Date With You (JPS)

"Oh god, oh god, oh god!" Your voice was hoarse and your eyes wide, here you went.

It was coming fast and probably hard, closer and closer, almost...This was going to leave you seeing stars, fuck! Bracing yourself, you drew a deep breath letting it out in a scream of his name.

"Jorrdaaan!"

And there it was.

Jordan flinched as you smacked into the rink wall. The old wooden boards covered in chipped white paint, the top rail a faded red, creaked under the pressure of your body smashing into it.

"Shit!" Jordan cursed trying, but unable, to help you.

Long legs coming out from under him, he yelped as he fell onto his ass. The ice cold and hard on the landing, legs splayed out like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time, Jordan groaned and continued to curse.

Rolling over onto your stomach, you pushed against the ice to position yourself on your knees. The hit didn't hurt that much, right now, but you'd be sore come tomorrow. Jordan continued to try and stand on his skates, giving up in favour of sitting on he knees in the middle of the rink.

"I hate you!" You shout at him, pouting for dramatic flare. "This was a stupid idea!"

"You're the reason we're here." He called back, defeat in his tone, as he gave up and sat where he'd landed.

"Me?" You huff, crawling to where he sat on the ice.

"You're the one who wanted to do something different, to have and I quote," He used his best tone to mimic you, "a fun date that didn't include getting drunk at a pub."

Snorting, you shake your head in disbelief. Yes, you'd wanted to do something different, but this was not what you'd had in mind. "There are a million things that fall under that description, Jordan."

Huffing, Jordan begins to mumble about how stupid this whole thing is, as he attempts to stand once again. Successfully on his feet, wobbly legs beneath him, Jordan reaches his hand out.

"Up you go, love." He instructs, carefully trying to get you on your feet without the two of you falling, again.

Holding your hands out to him, you slide your feet under you and manage to stand, a little shaky and timid, you clutch to his hand like your life depends on it. Maybe it does. Laughing in triumph, Jordan grips your hand tighter, using you in the same manner.

"Look at us! Look at us!" He whistles, his accent thick in his glee. "Here we go!"

Taking a tandem step forward, you feel your legs come out from under you, sliding back down to the cold surface in a tangle of limbs, you grunt. Sitting on the ice once more, Jordan shouts in frustration. Your only saving grace is the fact nobody else wanted to skate this evening, the rink empty except for the two of you and a bored teenager at the snack bar.

"Fuck it!" You declare, scooting away from Jordan, crawling to the exit. Be damned if you are standing, again.

Taking your lead, Jordan crawls across the ice after you, the two of you reach the exit and happily leave the slippery surface. On a bench on the side of the rink, you remove the rental skates and shove your feet back into the safety of your boots. Leaning against Jordan, you sigh and close your eyes.

"Home then?" He asked kissing the top of your head.

"It's only 6:30, why would we go home, when we could go grab a drink?"