There are very few times they get lucky enough to get the rink to themselves. No other skaters, no lookie-loos, nobody wandering the halls and stopping by to gawk.
Kidd figured it was only a matter of time before they got interrupted tonight. They'd had some shitty luck for a while now. The team had wrapped up the practice and most had headed home, leaving just him and a restless Killer. It was pretty normal for his partner; they'd both been cursed with thoughts that wouldn't settle at the end of the day. Kidd's was a tumble of ideas and plans while Killer was just what ifs and worse cases. So Killer'd stay and skate until he was too tired to worry anymore. It worked best if he could do it without worrying about an audience.
Any one else who'd have the balls to join Kidd on the bench to watch, Kidd have had smashed their face in.
But the StrawHats had proven themselves to be "good" people much to Kidd's disgust - and Red was no different. She was a loan shark and had a hell of a slap shot and was wasted as a team manager in his opinion - but that's what she'd rather do, so more power to her.
He also knew that she'd be mum on this. He'd have to pay her off if it was anyone else, but the StrawHats as a group seem to come to their own understanding of what Killer could be teased about and what was completely off limits, and so far their judgment had been pretty sound - minus an early scuffle with Roronoa, but they'd figured that out on the ice, and all was cool now.
So she sat, and they watched.
Sometimes, Kidd wished someone had noticed just now graceful Killer was on the ice twenty years ago. He'd be some Olympic level gold champion by now if anybody'd bothered to give him half a chance.
But he'd probably not be sharing a flat and a hockey team with Kidd if they had. And Kidd was a selfish man. He wasn't sure he'd let Killer go if things had been different.
Killer skated lazy designs out on the ice. They looked simple enough unless you watched his feet; the shifting and dancing of the blades. His gear and pads were packed in the bags with Kidd in the bleachers. His hockey skates and helmet in Kidd's lap.
Just him in his under-armor, house figure skates, his hair a messy braid, and one of Kidd's headbands pulled down to keep his ears warm. Kidd couldn't help but watch him dance.
Nami was quiet next to Kidd, a new side discovered to the reserved man that shadowed Kidd both on and off the ice. A new side to Kidd himself as he sat still and memorized each movement.
Killer's go to routine on nights like this was footwork and some spins. Rarely any jumps but that wasn't to say he didn't launch himself off the glassy surface from time to time.
Except, Killer's jumps would never get worked into a professional program. Kidd smirked, realizing what Killer was working up to and leaned back - watching Nami out of the corner of his eye.
The "Holy shit" from her was worth it when Killer executed a perfect back flip.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
