Title: Might As Well Jump
Paring: Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards X Reader
Warnings: fluff and cute, snow and skiing
Spoilers: Just make sure you've seen the movie, Eddie The Eagle.
Author's Note: This was a request from AO3.
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He's not sure why, but two winters after he did his world-renowned jump at the Olympics, Eddie finds himself back in the van and driving over to Germany. He's not sure why, but there's a push, something larger than himself or anything he's felt ever before, and almost all at once he's packed a bag and back to where Petra runs the pub. Eddie couldn't help it; perhaps it was the fact he just loves the smell of freshly fallen snow, or that he just likes seeing the newbies and more experienced ski jumpers practice in the fresh snow. It feels good to be back where it falls freely - sure, he likes being home for a cuppa with his parents, but since the thrill of what happened two years ago, it's like skiing has become a part of himself, something he can't just ignore.
When he walks in the pub, it takes more than a moment for Petra to recognise him; he's tried to grow more of a beard, and his hair needs a haircut ("desperately", his mother told him, carding her fingers through it before he up and left) but his old boss still grins from ear to ear, and snaps her dishtowel at his legs like his career never even happened, and it's still two years ago. It feels good.
"Eddie!" she croons, crushing him in her arms. She might be small, yes, but Petra is anything but slight. He swears he's seen her lift an industrial sack of flour before without a problem. "You're staying here for the season?" Her question isn't so much a question than a statement, because if anyone comes to her place, they're here to stay. But as soon as she says the words, he realises that that's what he truly intended to do. She sees it in his eyes, and gripping him tighter, he almost doesn't realise that she's untied her apron and deftly knotted it onto his waist. "I needed an extra hand. It's different without you around here."
At that moment, the inn's door opens, and Petra lets him go. There's a swift icy breeze, and a figure trudging indoors. A fluffy coat-covered form stands there, shaking off some of the flakes on their shoulders, stomping their ski boots on the mat to not track in dirt. They push their hood down with the hand that isn't gripping their ski's, grinning ear to ear. "I didn't fall over this time!"
Petra whoops, and raises both her thumbs up for their victory. "That's great, you're getting there!" She pushes him toward the person in the coat, and announces in anything but an inside voice, "Eddie, this is _______, my great cousin's child from England; ________, this is Eddie, my old bus-boy."
It's only now he takes a moment to notice the face that had been hiding underneath the hood of the jacket; their nose is red from the cold, skin bright in the down-lights inside the pub - almost glowing like the dewy skin of an angelic creature. There's no way around it; Eddie cannot deny that they are beautiful, and around the same age as he is.
"No freaking way," they gasp, taking slow steps toward him in the snow boots, "Eddie Edwards, as in the guy who inspired me to get off my ass and go fall down a ski slope for my winter?" They gasp, feet rooted to the ground. "Aunt Petra told me so much about you -,"
He raises his eyebrows, "Ah - thanks, erm, always good to, ah, meet a fan."
They laugh, walking past him to Petra, and taking the dishtowel, drape it around their neck. "Sorry, that might have sounded pretty creepy, I swear I'm one of the more down-to-earth Eddie the Eagle fans you might have." At that, they peck Petra's cheek, and say something about going upstairs to ice their bruises.
And from that mere six minute exchange, Eddie can't help but feel hooked.
"I've still got that spare bedroom," Petra breaks the silence. "Come on, Eagle, we've got a pub to cater to."
It wasn't for another two days that he had a moment spare to actually get out onto the fresh powder, and three days until he caught ________ again, what, with them being up at the crack of dawn and the last spill of daylight to keep on out in the snow, doing their greatest at the small slopes. He admired that about them, the determination; it was what he had drive him for his life, all of his life, and even now, when Petra ushered him out of the pub with only a suggestion to help her great cousin's child out. Thus, he was determined to teach them.
"Need a little help there, _______?" Eddie asked, calling out across the snowfields.
The figure nodded, pulling their skis up, and the affirmation of a thumbs-up. "I guess I can't really say no to the Eddie the Eagle." They trudged toward Eddie, grinning from underneath the great hood they wore. "That probably gets old, doesn't it?"
He shakes his head. "Not from you. I mean, not from people like - you - ah - you get what I mean," he feels a roaring blush take over his face, and thankful of the cover his own hood gives, he adds, "Now, watch me. You just sort of, stay upright like this, but bend...that doesn't make much sense, but seeing it does," he pushes off, and takes the small ski jump. It's nothing like the ones he's done before, and like child's play compared to what he did at the televised Olympics. But still, it gives the same rush. "Like this!"
By the time he makes it to the top, _______ pushes off, just barely with a moment to spare for him to judge the form and technique. He can see it in their eyes, that they feel the same thing that he does, that they just want him to be their Bronson Peary and they to just taste the adrenaline in their mouth.
"That's great!" He yells, two thumbs up as _______ takes the jump by storm. As his student practically ran up the stairs, he could hear their joy before it was even shared. "You did it!" Eddie cheered. "I've never seen anyone do it the first time so well!" He beams.
_______ abandons their skis, and wraps their arms around him. "Thank you thank you!"
Slowly, unsure of what to do, he brings his own arms around theirs, like a hug was supposed to be, and holds on tight so not to slip away down the slope. "You're very welcome." It's only now Eddie realises what pushed him out the door and back here. It was more than the call to the snow and the jumps, the skis and the smiles. No. It was fate, and a (h/l) (h/c) haired pretty-faced person, who had won his heart over at first sight.