Little Spy | Peter Parker ✓

CHRISTMAS [ONESHOT].

Eventually, our walk ended as we neared large crowds and the air became crisper and colder; screams and laughter echoed all around us, and scrapes of metal against an unknown substance sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't make out where we were, not just yet, but it wasn't making me very excited.

"Come on!" he yelled over the noise, dragging me along towards the noise, "come on!"

This didn't seem to have any way of ending well.

Peter led me through and to a man, who after exchanging words I couldn't make out over the shrieks and tiny children making too much noise, handed him two sets of shoes with blades on the ends and two slips of paper. He gave me a smile too, but I didn't bother changing my glare.

I stared at the large area the room opened up into; all around me was ice, with duos and trios and groups of people sliding across it with the same pairs of blades on their feet as what we were given. Some were struggling to even stand, while others spun through the air as though they were primadonnas; they must have known the ice for years, by the looks of it. Everyone seemed to be so happy in the cold, yet I couldn't understand why; it was just ice, and it was dangerous. Why would this be fun?

Peter still pulled me along, this time needing more force than before, and we took our places on a long bench that overlooked the event. He handed over one pair of blade-shoes with a smile, "do you know how to put them on?"

"Of course I do." I had never seen these monstrous devices in my life and had no inkling of a thought on how to work them, but I couldn't tell him I couldn't put on shoes - that would be ridiculous. "They're just boots."

It took me five minutes to his sixty seconds, a statistic I didn't appreciate but tried to ignore. Peter didn't gloat; he simply watched and at one point helped my nearly-frozen fingers lace up the strings that tightened around my ankles. After the blade-shoes were strapped to me and my death was set in stone - again - he got up and balanced precariously on the weapons.

"Come on!"

"Come on, what?"

Peter's laughed echoed through the entire square - the Pavilion, it was called - and he slid towards me so his hands were just inches away from my own. "Here, let me help you."

"But I-"

"-just trust me, okay?"

I did trust him, I wanted to say, there was just no belief of support that would go into the knives on my feet. However, after a long pause and deep breaths of panic, I reached out to seize his hands and slowly pull myself up to stand beside him.

"There, look at you! Pro skater already!"

I took a shaky breath and glanced up, still not daring to release his hands. "You're making fun of me now, aren't you?"

He shook his head and drifted slowly, pulling me along with him - leaving me panicked and holding on for dear life as if we were going a hundred miles a minute. "I'm not making fun of you, I'm encouraging you. See, look? You're already getting the hang of it."

"The hang of what? Being petrified?"

"No, standing - though I guess the latter is important, too."

My laugh came out more panicked then joyful, but I hardly noticed; all my thoughts were on the blade-shoes sending me closer and closer to death and how any second, I could fall. This didn't seem fun at all, but more like a dangerous game with no good ending. Few things scared me, but this was slowly but surely taking the cake.

Peter seemed to sense my fear, as he pulled me closer to him and held onto my shaking body carefully. "You're not going to fall."

"You don't know that!"