Christmas was a holiday that Hazel had gradually learned to love. His childhood had lacked typical warmth, and no hoping or wishing on his part had ever changed that. As a result, he’d simply learned and expected all families treated the day with a degree of separated indifference. Then came Hugo, and his large, ragtag family, and Hazel thought oh, this was what I’ve been missing all this time. So it had become something just as treasured, just as enjoyed. Even if he was awkward and socially clumsy at first, the Darcys had pulled him into their fold. Though, none of them had ever taught him to ice skate.[break][break]

Oh, come on, it’s really not that bad.[break][break]

Those were famous last words. Hazel let out a hesitant noise, eyeing his husband skeptically as he coasted out onto the rink with relative ease. Or rather, relative ease compared to what he himself might manage. Hazel remained on the rubber mat, clutching the edge of the rink’s railing as if it were a life or death matter.[break][break]

There was a desperate flare of agitated panic as a comparison was drawn. “What makes you think I can ride a bike?” he practically wailed back, his typical composure slipping for a moment before he scowled petulantly. He’d tried to learn as a child, and with no one to help him after he nabbed his sister’s two-wheeler, it hadn’t…gone well.[break][break]

Several scrapes, many tears, one missing tooth, a harsh scolding, and a broken mailbox later… he hadn’t felt inclined to touch a bike again.[break][break]

Normally Hazel thrived in learning new things. He had a determination to know, and even more so, to master a subject when it arose. Physical activities, however, were a weak point. As well as a sore spot on his pride.[break][break]

He was going to take Hugo’s reassurance for what it was, though, and he trusted that his partner wouldn’t thrust him into some activity that wouldn’t maim him. “You better not..” he grumbled as he let go of the railing and reached out to him. Hands extended out in front of him so that they could clasp Hugo’s. Then on wobbly skates, he awkwardly tottered out onto the ice, still wholly expecting his feet to sweep out from under him.

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[attr="class","ooc"] Hugo Albrecht | m: festive flirts | outfit[break]


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It was a woeful thought, accepting that he didn’t immediately know how to do everything with ease. Hazel struggled often to relinquish his pride, but over the years, he’d grown to enjoy and love experiencing new things with Hugo. Particularly the activities where his husband held the chance to instruct him. Hugo was likely the sole person in the world he willingly and openly accepted that from. So even in the experiences they mutually shared for the first time, Hazel often relented his control.[break][break]

It was an act of adoration in his own stubborn way. Even if he often groused in his bouts of embarrassment.[break][break]

Hazel huffed, eyes rolling, “Don’t sound so surprised…” he grumbled, “I did try. Once.” Maybe if he’d tried again, he would’ve been better. But he’d been pretty thoroughly scared and scolded out of the whole thing. Even as he complained, his hands twisted to clasp Hugo’s wrists in the same way his husband was holding onto his own. His stomach dropped, nerves rattling through him as his skates wobbled on the ice.[break][break]

When he felt himself steady out, though, Hazel’s face lit in a smile that was near childlike. “I did it!” Gray eyes shot up from his feet to Hugo’s mismatched pair. “Hugo! I’m skating.” There was still a breathless wobble of nervousness in his voice, but delight too. And okay, yeah they’d maybe moved about six inches away from the gate collectively, but it counted. It so counted.[break][break]

His hands still like a vice grip on Hugo’s wrists, Hazel was just about to suggest they keep going when that aforementioned concern struck— an overeager teenager who thought they were more of a pro than they actually were blew by them, shouting and whooping as they tried to catch up to their friend.[break][break]

the blade of their skate caught and snagged on Hazel’s. Spinning him out awkwardly as he let out a garbled noise of panic and twisted in a confused flail as he struggled to regain his balance.

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[attr="class","ooc"] Hugo Albrecht | m: festive flirts | outfit[break]


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“Well, I broke a mailbox and lost a tooth in the process, that answers your question,” he retorted. Hazel left out the wrecked bike and his sister’s crocodile tears, even though she never used the bike. Nor her smug side glance after. Or the lecture that far exceeded the point and bordered on outright cruelty, all as a result of the fact that he’d tried to teach himself because no one else could be bothered.[break][break]

It was a holiday, the last thing Hazel wanted to do was dampen the spirit with his dreary childhood traumas. He cut Hugo another look, though a fond, but mild smile slipped across his face. “We could try, but I’d much rather ride on your handlebars. Or spokes.”[break][break]

Any disheartened feelings from the bad memories, however, we’re wiped away by the success of his first few tentative steps on the skates. A breathless laugh followed, as his gaze continued to travel down to his feet, and then back to Hugo’s mismatched eyes. The elated grin on his face continued to creep wider, and color rose in his cheeks from the thrill of it alone. And also the cold, but that was beside the point.[break][break]

If his hold on gravity hadn’t been knocked away, he might’ve said something more. But all too quickly, his stomach lurched with the wobbly feeling of falling, and anxiety spiked in his system. The bad sort of adrenaline that preceded disaster. He didn’t speak, or cry out beyond an initial, startled noise as his feet slid out from under him. Eyes squeezed shut, he felt himself tipping over and he tried to grab for Hugo, but couldn’t find him to hold onto.[break][break]

A sense of impending doom crowded out the rest, the result of those same childhood recollections. But as his breath quickened and he fell, it wasn’t ice that he crashed into. Rather the warm solidity of his husband, who had taken a fall of his own for Hazel’s sake. Slowly, his eyes peeled open again, and he nodded silently at the reassurance. He’d still bitten his tongue in the force of the impact , and his nose wrinkled at the taste of blood.[break][break]

“Thank you,” he mumbled (a bit pitifully,) as Hugo pulled him back up. Tenfold more hesitant now than he’d been when he’d first stepped onto the rink. He tried to smile at the bitter remark, eyes drifting to where the kid had caught up to his buddies. “Well, in that case, you’ve got my permission.” Also joking, but not. The hand not clutching Hugo’s found the rink wall for more stability.



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[attr="class","ooc"] Hugo Albrecht | m: festive flirts | outfit[break]


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Hazel sighed. “It was terrible.” Still, he could muster a small smile as Hugo laughed. If anyone could get away with it, it was him. Those earlier days were not often looked back upon with any degree of fondness. Many of them were cold and devoid of the contact and care he needed. He was a disappointment, but still expected to be the best disappointment on paper, in family photos. In public spaces. It had taken a long time to begin unlearning much of what his childhood had taught him, and he still wasn’t perfect at it. Hugo made it easier, though.[break][break]

“At least they had you to help,” he replied, leaning against his husband a bit as he smiled again. Softer, and stupidly affectionate. “I sure hope I’d be,” he retorted with an amused huff. He probably would’ve continued in his sappiness if he’d not been sent tumbling. It was a matter of wounded pride—the frown that had settled on his face. Despite Hugo taking the brunt of the fall, it had still knocked the wind out of him, and it ached to drag in a breath.[break][break]

Even so, he wouldn’t whimper or whine. It couldn’t stop him from wincing, or the scared expectation that he’d only fall again. “Okay,” he muttered sullenly, feeling pathetic. But he tried to relax as instructed, and felt his eyes shut as lips pressed against his forehead. He released the breath he’d been holding. “Yeah.” Soon enough they were gliding around the rink again, slow but steady. The wall sliding under his hand. And Hugo was swiftly distracting him from the fear of falling again.[break][break]

“Maybe dinner? Oh, or we could go through the market. I think there are some shops doing holiday specials. It might be nice, you know, for your nieces and nephews?” Perhaps that would be pushing it—all of it open air where it grew colder as the night deepened. Hazel could already feel the chill seep under his jacket and gloves from the time spent on the rink, and from slipping on the cold ice.[break][break]

But he wanted to stay out. He didn’t want to hide away in the safe warmth of their house. He wasn’t much of a party person, and more of a homebody in that regard. But it didn’t mean he enjoyed being holed up, either. Especially after years of having to stay home or in bed.[break][break]

Had Hugo expected him to suggest something indoors? Hazel wasn’t sure. Possibly. But would he fret was the bigger question.

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[attr="class","ooc"] Hugo Albrecht | m: festive flirts | outfit[break]


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