Chapter Text
When Dream woke up this morning he did not expect to be silently watching the most beautiful man he has ever seen glide across the ice with all the grace of a swan, but he most certainly does not regret walking into this beautiful masterpiece.
He had expected the rink to be empty by now, it was after six pm, the sun was long gone, and it was the middle of winter. Point is, it was cold as fuck and he did not expect to be watching a spectacle in a tight fitting shirt and leggings, doing twirls and spins across the ice. Not that he was complaining or anything.
It wasn’t like he was doing anything important, anyway, he was just gonna get in, throw the puck around with a few slap shots and go home, but all of this was derailed by the pretty man who was still quietly skating, with what looked to be some athletic earbuds in. Fancy.
The man's lithe figure starts speeding towards the outer edge of the rink as he attempts a jump, he shoots across the ice like a rocket, spinning three or four times mid-air. Dream guffaws as he sees the man land the jump on one foot, with his arms out-streched. He’s still gaping when the man sees him, does a double-take and falls flat on his face.
He ignores the fact that he fell in favour of staring at his behind, because damn do figure skaters have nice asse- assets, they have nice assets. The man promptly gets up and skates towards the edge where Dream is standing, and Dream feels his eyes lazer focus on the man skating toward him. He swears he could see a rose-tint and red flower petals around the man’s pretty face.
The man smiles at him and Dream can hear his heart skip a beat, what the fUCK was going on? He stares into the warm chocolate brown swirls that were the man’s eyes, they looked like an earthy, autumn forest he could wander around in for forever. His eyes drift down to the man’s cheeks, pink from exertion, he assumed, but if he ignores that he can pretend that the man’s pink flush was because of him and that he was as flustered as Dream was.
Dream’s eyes travel even lower and he sees cherry red lips, they aren’t chapped like he expected them to be. They looked nice and soft and- fuck they were moving, what was the pretty skater man saying? He was too busy staring at the pretty skater man’s face.
He tunes his ears to what the man was saying and he swears he hears angels sing. The man’s voice was soft, a bit high, with what sounded like a British accent. Dream’s brain fries at the realization that he’s British because, of course, he fell in love with the pretty exchange student, that was just his luck.
Anyway, what was the pretty British man saying? Oh he’s staring, waiting for a reply.
“Uhhhh,” is all Dream manages to get out, fuck if he chokes right now the pretty British man will think he’s just another dumb American-
“I was asking if you wanted to share the rink for a while,” the pretty British man supplies, when he sees Dream dumbly staring at him. “I’m not done with my routine yet, just have to practice a few more jumps and I’ll be out of your hair.”
No, no please I want you to stay in my hair, live in my hair please- Wait what?
Dream just nods, numbly, not trusting the bullshit that might come out of his mouth if he tries to speak now. He silently walks over to one of the benches and starts lacing up his hockey skates. He hears the pretty British man skate over to one side of the rink, the sound of his ice skates gliding across the ice, soothing Dream somewhat. Once he’s laced up his skates, he grabs his stick and skates onto the ice. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and gives himself a peptalk.
Woooo you got this Dream, it’s just hockey, you know hockey, you’ve been paying it since you were three. No need to overthink, the pretty British boy in front of you isn’t even watching, he’s busy practicing his own routine. You can do this.
He opens his eyes right as he’s about to slam into one of the Plexiglas walls, and immediately brings up his hands to save his face from pancaking onto the wall. He chances a glance at the pretty British man and his breath gets stolen away for what feels like the millionth time that evening.
The man is gliding with his body so close to the ice Dream thinks he might fall. He’s using the back inside edge of his right blade, with his leg bent at a ninety degree angle. His left leg is stretched out behind the right in a perfect line, not even touching the ice. He has his left hand on the ice while his right is extended above his head. He spins three times before he raises his head and looks directly at Dream, and continues on with his routine, gliding across the ice.
Dream doesn’t know if he’s gone completely batshit or what but he swears the pretty British boy winked at him and gave him a little smile when they were making eye contact. After that little stunt, Dream is completely transfixed onto the figure skating in front of him. Every turn, twist and jump has him on the edge of his seat, he almost takes off his skates and sits down on one of the benches so that he can watch the performance in front of him. Keyword: almost.
“I can feel you staring, you know?” says the sweet angelic voice of the pretty British man.
“Uhhh, what?” Dream replies, still stuck at the same spot he almost hit the Plexiglas. He doesn’t even have the common decency to stop staring at the said man. It must’ve been funny because the pretty British boy lets out a little giggle, and Dream silently makes a promise to do whatever it takes to hear that giggle again.
They fall back into a comfortable silence, where Dream just watches the man skate for however long he was skating for. The man speed into one final jump and flubs it. His toe hits the ice before he can get his skate down and he falls. He manages to turn his body around before he falls and lands onto the side of his thigh. Dream rushes over to him, already asking if he’s okay and if he should call an ambulance. The man lets out another giggle at that.
“It’s part of figure skating, everyone falls,” He shrugs and lets out another round of giggles, Dream smiles despite himself as the man starts to say something else. “Aren’t you a hockey player? Shouldn’t you be used to players getting hurt on the ice?”
Dream smiles sheepishly looking down towards his skates, “Uhm yeah but none of my players are half as pretty as you.” And fuck he said that outloud, time to backtra-
The man lets out a full-on laugh at that and Dream looks at him fondly before offering him a hand to help him up. The man grabs onto it smiling, “I’m George.” He says.
Dream smiles back, “I’m Clay, but you can call me ‘Dream.’”
“Dream?”
“Yeah, it’s a long story.” He says rubbing his neck.
“Well, it’s a good thing I have a lot of time.”