Chapter Text
Winter Olympics 2018
Ned empties his glass, before pouring himself another cup of soda. The orange liquid sizzles and pops, a nice scent of orange hits Peter’s nose and he hands his cup to Ned who fills it too. Carefully, so that he doesn’t spill in the Parker’s living room.
It’s their final year at Midtown High, School of Science and Technology. Peter is rather surprised that he’s been able to keep up with his grades, while also competing as a junior skater. He wasn’t the best of the best, but he’d placed on the podium at Nationals, and would soon – hopefully – move to seniors. But that didn’t matter right then.
“A great start to the Olympic season. These skaters are proving themselves this year!” The commentator's voice flows out through the TV screen. Videos of the first group of skaters flash across the screen, soon replaced by the second group taking the ice for warm-up. “It’s going to be a tight competition.”
The second commentator nods in agreement, “And with Harry Osborn skating his first Olympics, it’s going to be quiet the event.”
“Didn’t he skate in 2014?” Ned looks confused at the screen.
Peter chuckles and remembers that year. He and Ned had been fourteen, Harry had been 18. The Canadian skater was amazing, but being amazing wasn’t always enough. Back then he hadn’t been a living legend like he was now. Didn’t have the same titles, the same skillset. He’d always been amazing, but a single misstep had cost him the Olympics in 2014. Sprained ankle…
He tells Ned as much. The other boy leans further into his chair, and Ben snores loudly from the couch. Completely knocked out. “Next time, we’ll be there.” Ned comments, “2022, here we come!”
“You think we can do it?” Peter asks, letting his head rest on the back of the chair. Sipping his soda slowly, and pictures himself gliding over the Olympic ice.
Ned snorts, “You’re one of the best juniors in the US Peter! Of course, you’ll go to the Olympics. And our hockey team is getting a lot of attention right now. We’ll both go! I just know it.”
He seems so genuine as he says it, and Peter just nods along. Remember a time when it hadn’t been figure skating and hockey, but just hockey. The two of them have sleepovers in Peter’s bedroom, talking about their dreams. It seemed like forever ago. A different lifetime.
“Next up on the ice is Harry Osborn with his Short program!” The camera cuts to Harry standing at the barrier, handing off his water bottle to Coulson and flashing a bright smile to the camera before making his way to the middle of the ice. The colorful rings appear under his skates. “He used these programs to get himself his second gold at the Grand Prix final this season. The theme is Dreams, and it’s a new rendition of his last junior skate. History maker!”
The music starts. Flowing nicely around the room, around the rink. Harry moves elegantly across the ice, his long hair dancing across his shoulders.
Peter leans forward in his seat, eyes glued to the screen. May appears in the opening of the living room, covered in flowers, a smile on her lips as she studies the screen too. “You know, you could probably skate to that for the small competition your club is doing in spring.”
Peter’s last competition in the club, is internal. It’s a fun way of ending the season, and Peter had been planning on just reusing his programs from this year…
… But May has a good point.
The first time Peter saw Harry skate, he’d been a junior. There had been some competition on the other side of the planet, and Peter didn’t remember which one. Just that his wrist had been aching, and Ben had been sitting next to him when he’d fallen in love with figure skating.
“You think maybe I could do his program?” Peter says. It sounds crazy as he suggests it. Watches as Harry throws himself into a quad flip, followed by a triple axle. Enters a spin, reaching for his heart, reaching for the camera. Let himself lean backward.
“You’re step squeeze is just as good as his” May nods, “And then you just downgrade the jumps.”
Peter was the only skater in his club with all his triples down. Even the triple axle, which has easily become Peter’s favorite jump. He’d be testing his limits with quads already if he had the right coach. Only he didn’t. His current coach only ever took on juniors.
He liked the idea anyway. Ending his time as a junior, skating to history maker. It sounded almost poetic.
Harry takes his last jump on screen and lands it cleanly. He’s grinning. Cheeks blushing in the cold rink. Flowers and plushies are thrown onto the ice. “And that’s how to do a clean skate. Harry Osborn sets a new world record with his short program!”
***
February 2018
May places a big bowl of cereal before the tired young adult. Peter chews slowly. “I was thinking maybe you could skip class today” May comments, “Have a little time just you and me. We don’t do that enough.” She’s smiling as she joins him at the table. Her hands folded around her coffee cup.
Peter nods slowly. Swallows. Takes another bit.
“I already talked to your coach; she said it be okay.” May nudges him lightly with her foot under the table. “There’s that outdoor skating rink in Central Park. That sounds fun, right?”
It does.
May and Ben are the proud owners of F.E.A.S.T. A place for people in need to come get a safe place to sleep, a warm, homecooked meal, and clothes and toys and other stuff they might need. Most of it was volunteer work, and May and Ben spent most of their time there when they weren’t watching over Peter at the competition.
It had truly been a long time since there had last been a moment to breathe. No school, no practice. “It sounds fun.” Peter smiles, “Could we… maybe do roasted chicken for dinner?”
“Of course, we can. It’s been a while since we last did, hasn’t it? We’ll celebrate Harry’s gold medal.”
***
May pulls them both to a stop outside Peter’s sports shop of choice and then inside. “What are we doing May?” Peter whispers to her as she waves one of the men from behind the counter over.
“My nephew here needs a new pair of skates. He’s moving up to seniors this year.” May explains.
The man takes a look at the two of them and greets Peter with a level of respect that he hadn’t received before. He’d placed this year, he reminded himself. Just a month prior. Sure, it was overshadowed by the Olympics, but he’d made an impression anyway.
“You got me new skates last year” Peter comments as they follow the man through the store, “One pair of plenty.”
May nods slowly as they reach the skate section. Plenty of different brands and colors are everywhere. “Ben and I talked a few days ago. If you’re serious about this and want to move up into seniors, we’re going to support you the best we can. You are getting the best pair of skates you can, which is our first step. We’re proud of you, that’s all. We just want to see you secede.”
Peter takes a seat, and the man finds a couple of different skates in the right size. Black and white. Some are stiff, and some of too soft. But they settle on a black pair easily, contrasting the white one he already owns. They get new blades too; they’re tightened onto the skates and sharpened before they’re stuffed in a box for transport.
They linger in the store, as snow falls from the grey sky and fills the New York streets with snow.
As they look at everything in the store, new jackets, gloves, tights, and thick socks, May buys a pair of colorful blade guards and a new pair of soakers for Peter too. “Need to keep your equipment safe” she jokes. Because May shouldn’t be teaching Peter things.
They don’t have to buy most of this stuff on their own anymore. Peter being a junior, placing on podiums, and moving up to seniors, means he has a sponsor. People pay for hotel stays, coaching fees, and sometimes even skate gear.
Yet as they leave the store and pull their jackets tight around themselves when the winter cold surrounds them, it feels good. The weight of the skates in his hold.
“Your parents would have been so proud of you too, you know,” May tells him as they walk back towards the car to leave the skates. “You’re becoming your person. It’s wonderful to see how far you’ve come in such a short time.”
“You don’t think they’d be disappointed I choose skating over science?” Peter wonders.
May shakes her head. “You didn’t. You’ve applied for MIT, Peter. You’re doing an amazing job at keeping up both skating and education. Nationals proved that.”
“It was pretty great placing at nationals.” Peter nods.
***
While Peter tightens his skates – not the new ones, god knows those have to be skated in, otherwise he’ll injure himself - and removes the skate guard, May goes to rent a pair of skates for herself.
The park is filled with people playing in the snow. Kids laughing, and snowmen appeared around them. Parents watching from a distance and drinking hot chocolate.
Peter had been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder at fourteen, back when Ben had gotten sick with cancer. It was part of the reason he’d yet to move to seniors, despite being able to from the age of fifteen. Skating had proven a useful, hopeful, outlet. But only when he didn’t focus on competitions and jumps. So, on days like today, using skating for fun instead of for practice was important. Spending some of his pent-up energy, before it could turn into anxiety.
And since he was done for the skating season anyway, it didn’t matter if he missed a few sessions with his coach, as long as he kept moving.
May meets him at the barrier before they both enter the ice. It’s early enough that it isn’t overcrowded yet. Leaving enough room for Peter to do a few spins and form figures in the ice under his blades. Snarly, elegant, groves. Drawings in his element.
Peter remembers a time when May had hugged the railing at the edge close in her hand, almost falling despite it. But she’d become balanced enough to skate without issue by now.
They relax, side by side. Shifting the weight from right to left, right to left, pushing themselves forward.
A few kids, maybe twelve or so are attempting cool freestyle spines. Pumping all their energy into the ice, lacking the elegance of figure skating, but having enough skill or braver all the same. They’re laughing loudly, not a care in the world.
When school lets out, the ice slowly turns more crowded. Peter’s about to call it a day when a teen appears at the edge of the rink, bright eyes following him as he skates.
Peter skates by and comes to a stop near the barrier. “Hi kid!” he greets.
“You’re Peter Parker!” The kids exclaim, “Could you- uhm… would you mind showing me your triple axel? It’s so good!”
Peter scans the ice carefully before nodding. He can do his triple axel with almost no speed, after months and months of training it. So, Peter manages to land it cleanly, despite the crowd of people around him. They cheer and clap. A few whisper and take photos. He has no doubt there’ll be videos up of the jump soon enough.
He returns to the barrier. “You skate?” he asks the teen who keeps looking at him. Mouth gapping.
“Yes. I’ve been taking classes for a few months. But I’ll never become as good as you.” The kid sighs and leans at the railing just as May joins them. “I love to compete one day…” the boy finished. Voice fading into dreamland.
Peter takes the boy's hand in his own and meets his eyes. “If you keep practicing, I’m sure you will. I was around your age when I started too.”
The boy nods stiffly, “I know. I’ve read everything about you. Is it true you broke your wrist playing hockey?”
“Sure is!” Peter nods, “Now I can write with both hands. So, that’s pretty cool.”
It hadn’t been cool at all when the accident happened. Though, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was destiny.
The boy gets a quick selfie before Peter and May leave the rink. They walk through the snow-filled park together, before returning to grab lunch.
***
“It’s alright. You can treat yourself once in a while.” May reminds as they sit at Mr. Dalmer’s sandwich shop.
Figure skaters had to keep up a hardcore diet to stay in competitive shape. It hadn’t ever been hard for Peter, following meal plans and counting calories. Though going from competitive season to ending it, had always been weird. Reminding himself that eating bad one day wasn’t going to destroy things completely. He just couldn’t do it every day.
“I know” He takes a big bite. Gins, teeth covered in yellow mustard.
May laughs. Mirroring him. “Have you been looking into a new coach? Someone who can guide you in seniors?”
“I’ve been trying.” Peter nods. “The season isn’t officially over yet, so there’s no guarantee from anyone. But there’s a few who might be interested. One in New York, too.”
“If you need to leave New York to keep skating, we support that” May puts down her sandwich and reaches for Peter’s hand. It’s something they’ve always done when they need each other to truly listen. Take my hand, look me in the eyes, and listen to me. “Are there any coaches near MIT?”
Peter nods. “Sam Wilson. But he’s already coaching a few other seniors. He might not have the space for another one.”
“I’m sure he will. If you get into MIT, that is.” May nods and smiles. Determined. “You just have to believe it, Peter.”
***
When they enter the apartment, it’s quiet. Too quiet.
Ben wasn’t just working at F.E.A.S.T. He was one of New York’s finest. A cop, unlike most. He made a point to be home by dinner time, though. Yet today he wasn’t.
Peter helps May in the kitchen. The chicken roast is put in the oven, and they sit down and sip tea while looking out on the snow. Falling onto the fire escape.
May sighs then. “Peter, I…” she hesitates and moves to sit across from him. “I need to tell you something.”
It knows that face. He knows that voice. That expression. The sorrow that fills the room in a matter of seconds. It’s back. The cancer’s back. Peter swallows hard, waiting for May to go on. Hoping that May won’t say what he already knows. Waits. Waits. Waits. Waits.
“Ben’s been feeling off lately…” No, no, no, no, no… “He went to the doctor last week. They did some tests. Peter… It’s back.”
Peter is fourteen and had just started high school when Ben was diagnosed with stomach cancer for the first time. He’d already lost his parents in a tragic accident when he was a kid, and suddenly his uncle was sick. It didn’t matter that the doctors reassured them Ben was going to be just fine, that treatment wouldn’t be too hard. The anxiety of losing another family member had developed with a snap of his fingers, and from there it had only gotten worse.
He'd been in therapy, too. Relearning how not to be with Ben. Relearning how to leave the apartment for sleepovers and skating competitions.
It hadn’t gotten better, before finally, Ben had been clean. A year of chemo, sure. But clean all the same.
The first tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He understands then, what the day had been about. Softening the blow. Keeping Peter distracted. Make it seem like everything was going amazing. The box holding the name skate rests on his bed in the other room.
“He…” Peter bites his lip. “He’s in treatment right now. Isn’t he?”
May nods slowly. She doesn’t explain things to Peter. They’ve been through this before. But a sob makes it past his lips, and then another. May’s arms fold around him, pulling him into a warm embrace of safety.
Peters is supposed to become a senior skater… but he isn’t sure he can do it at all.
Not now.
***
Marts 2018
Ned had hockey practice four times a week. Peter trains in figure skating six days a week, two of which are with a coach. On this particular day, everyone at the rink is on high alert, catching mistakes as they play. Ned’s doing amazing, but some of his teammates are a different story.
The team has a competition the following weekend, against the Brooklyn team. One of the best Hockey teams in New York City. And for good reason.
Steve Rogers was an amazing figure skater, someone Peter looked up to – even if Harry was his true inspiration. Steve’s husband, James Barnes aka Bucky, was, on the other hand, an amazing hockey player. He even competed at the Olympics in 2014. He didn’t do it competitive anymore, of course—too many injuries, and too much big of a love life. But the hockey player had found his home in the Brooklyn team as a coach, and the team benefited from it.
“Maybe I should change team.” Ned comments during the water break. Peter is hanging around at the barrier, waiting for the ice to clear so he can skate for a while. “I’d be like, guaranteed to be trained right.”
Peter puts on a fake frown and a hard look. It makes Ned chuckle. “And what, leave your team behind?”
Ned looks like he wants the argue with him, but then his shoulders slump under the heavy gear and he sighs. “Gotta make hard choices if I’m serious about this hockey thing.”
Peter knew that all too well.
Being a competitive athlete was great, they could both agree on that. It made them feel good, and they loved their sports. They also loved their families, supportive and happy and cheering from the sidelines. They never saw anything you did as something bad, just a step to improve.
He remembers how easily Ben had bought him hockey gear back then. Hadn’t questioned for a moment if Peter was going to stick with it or not, he’d just allowed him to have fun.
Explore his options in life.
That it had ended up being figure skating that was his calling, Peter wouldn’t have ever figured it out if not for Hockey, and he’d kept playing for years, only leaving the team when he started getting good are figure skating.
“How about you?” Ned asks a moment later pulling Peter out of his thoughts.
Peter tilts his head, “What about me?”
Ned sighs, “Have you decided what you’re going to do? You’ve applied for MIT, right? Any good coaches in that area?”
“Honestly?”
Ned nods. A serious expression on his face.
“I’m not sure I can leave New York right now. With Ben… and May needing extra hands at F.E.A.S.T. I just…” Peter shakes his head. Grasps the metal railing around the barrier. It’s cold to his touch, he leans into it. Seep up the ice with his hands. His palms grew pale. “I guess, it feels like I’m running away if I go to MIT, and find a coach over there. Running away from my responsibility to Ben and May. They need me.”
“Do they?” Ned questions, “Or is this your anxiety talking?”
Ned knows him too well, and Peter decides them. “Can’t it be both?” Peter counters.
“Sure, it can. Though, you gotta stop letting that anxiety win dude! You took silver a Nationals, coaches are going to fight about who gets to debut you as a senior!” Ned smiles. Excitement makes its way into his voice.
Peter wants to argue that nobody is going to want him when they discover his anxiety. That he’s too much of a risk, a wildcard if they take him as their student.
He doesn’t get a chance to. The water break is over before he knows it, and Ned and his team make their way back onto the ice. Big and bulky in layers of protective gear, they chase after their pug.
***
Brooklyn wins over Queens, but that’s okay. The two teams have a lot of fun, and Ned – not surprisingly – is offered a full-ride sports scholarship at ESU. One of their trainers was a judge at the competition. Ned gratefully accepts. It’s his ticket to the rest of his life.
With that out of the way, and exams and high school graduation slowly sneaking up on them, the skating season is as good as over.
The club always does a yearly mini-competition, to end a season. It’s no different this year. It’s a chance to celebrate victories together and grieve losses. It’s a way of saying their goodbyes to skaters like Peter and Ned, who are moving up in the world. It’s a way of welcoming new kids and parents to the club, who’ll be using the ice all summer. It’s fun. It’s perfect. It’s… home.
Both Ben and May made it this year, in the last few only one of them had been there.
Peter sits when them on the benches around the rink, as it starts with a friendship hockey competition. The boys against the girls. It’s not an even playing field, but for the sake of the day, that’s okay. Everyone’s laughing as they’re pushed into the ice, and the pug slips from their sticks, and goals are celebrated with loud cheers.
Then the youngest kids go on and perform their routine. Dancing around on the ice, like tiny flowers.
Lastly, it’s the junior's turn. They draw numbers, and a skate list is made. There are eight skaters, six girls, and two boys, but they’re all put into one category since it’s just for the fun of it.
Ben takes the role of Peter’s coach, and a kiss and cry is set up for the skaters. There are cameras set up too, since Peter is a pretty high-end skater by now, and the remaining seven are good too but have had less time on the ice than Peter. They’ll catch up in no time. They’re also significantly younger than Peter. Having a few good years as juniors in them.
Some of them skate to classical music and do singles and doubles. Some of skating to rock, and pop, treating it more like an exhibition than a competition. They’re dancing across the ice.
Then it’s Peter’s turn.
He finds himself and Ben standing on each side of the barrier. Peter sips water slowly, before Peggy, his actual coach gives him the go-ahead. “Your triple axel has come a long way, I’m guessing you’ll be doing that to end the season?” Ben guesses.
“I will” Peter nods in confirmation, smiling. He hands his bottle and jacket to Ben. “Thank you… for believing in me.”
He remembers a lonely, dark, hospital night. His wrist is in a cast, and skating on the TV.
“Go out there and show the world what you can do.” Ben smiles and nods.
Peggy gives the signal over the speakers. She’s playing commentator, since she’s the one who knows the most about figure skating. “Next on the ice is Peter Parker, with his last skate in his junior season.”
Peter skates to the middle of the rink and takes his starting pose. Harry’s starting pose.
The music starts, the history maker flowing through the speakers, and Peter circles himself elegantly on his blades. Let the music guide him during the intro. A storm making its way through his body, in pretty chaos, before it starts. Catching everyone’s attention.
“He’s skating Harry Osborn’s short program from this year's Olympics to the song History Maker.”
The song slows, the tones grow clearly, and with it his movements become calm. Relaxed. Fluid. The peace before the storm. The center of the storm… whatever.
Can you hear my heartbeat?
He flows into the melody. His arms are hugged tightly to his chest, spread out as he spins on one foot. I’m tired of feeling… I’m never enough. He reaches up, up towards the sky. He skates on a single line, as he leans backward. His hair is dancing in his face.
I close my eyes… Peter closes his eyes. He knows how far away from the rink side he is. How far he needs to be. And tell me, that my dreams will come true. He enters his first jump, a triple toe loop, followed by a double axel.
From there he enters a camel spin. Hands held tightly in each other. There’ll be no more darkness when you believe in, yourself, you’re unstoppable.
Where your destiny lies. Dancing on your blades you set my heart on fire!
He makes it to his triple axel. Takes off, and tightly his arms to his chest, needing as little friction in the air as he possibly could.
For a moment he wonders if he should keep going. He has the speed and height, he thinks, to land a quad axel. He’d be writing history, but he doesn’t risk it. He hasn’t ever practiced the jump, and he’d rather not injure himself just before his senior debut.
The triple axel landing is steady, and he flows right into the course of the song. “A solid triple axel on the ice is Peter’s signature move. You better be taking notes, because this kid, will change the world of figure skating as we know it.”
Don’t stop us now! The moment of truth. We were born to make history.
Peter laughs as he spots Ben cheering at the barrier. In the moment he knows he’ll have to keep skating forever because he loves it. Ben standing there, his hair thinning, but smiling all the same… maybe all he needed was to know that Peter was doing what he wanted to do. Following his dreams.
Peter signs along with the song. Let it speak through him. Suddenly it isn’t Harry’s skate anymore, it’s Peter’s. “We’ll make it happen. We’ll turn it around. Yes, we were born to make history!”
He comes to a stop. The music fades. He’s breathing heavily, his final pose reaching out for the audience to see him. To pull them in. To greet them. “Peter has been one of my best students, and it pains me that I can’t take him into seniors. I’d love to be standing rink side when he takes the gold at a Grand Prix, or when he goes to his first Olympics. Instead, I’ll be cheering from here, the whole club will. This is your home rink, Peter. It always will be. You’re always welcome back here anytime.”
***
Peter Parker attempts Harry Osborn’s Olympic SP (History Maker)
Figure skating lover: God he’d be so amazing on the ice!
Peggy Charter: Good luck in Seniors Peter, the club is cheering for you <3
Wilson: You’ve got a phone number, kid?
Ned: It was even better in real life Pete. Can’t wait till we’re both going to the Olympics together. What do you say? 2022?
PeterParkerFanGroup2018: First Nationals, and now this? <3 <3 <3 I’m in love.
***
April 2018
His phone buzzes in his pocket as he helps May carry in new supplies to F.E.A.S.T. It’s quite early, so most of the people in the shelters are still asleep. But he doesn’t mind it. Something is amazing about the energy that this place has, even in the mornings.
Spring is slowly hitting the city, and it isn’t dark when they make it there. There isn’t ice on the pavement in front of the lobby anymore. It’s nice.
He drops the box on one of the tables and pulls his phone out.
Unknown number.
Peter frows but answers all the same, pushing the phone against his ear and doing his usual greeting. “Peter Parker here.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting.
“This is Sam Wilson.” The voice on the other side of the phone informs him. Peter feels his heart skip a beat and he looks up to May and gives her a sign that he’ll be back in a moment. He steps outside, letting the spring air fill his lungs. “I’ve heard you’re looking around for a coach to take you to seniors. I must admit, you did pretty well at Nationals Kid, but what sold me was that video for your current club. I’d love to have you here if you’re interested.”
“If I’m interested…” Peter takes a deep breath, “Of course I’m interested but-“
“No buts. You’ve got a lot of potential, Pete. I do not doubt that with your amazing presentation scores, and a little help from me to get going with quads, that you’ll be the next living legend.” Sam sounds happy as he speaks. Confident in Peter, in a way he doesn’t always feel. “I’m in New York for business next week. If you’ve got time we can meet up and talk about it. I’d love to see your triple axel in person.”
“Uh… Yes sir. That’d be amazing. Uhm… when, when does it work for you? Uh, when do you, have time?”
There’s laughter on the other end of the phone, “Just Sam, kid. Or Coach Wilson if you will. How about… Friday next week?”
***
Two days later his application for MIT was accepted. Peter is going to the best science school in the country if he wants to. Ned is going to ESU. It’s their dreams come true. “You’re saying yes, right?”
“Ned!” Peter pushes his friend kindly as they make it home from Midtown that day, “I…”
“Haven’t decided yet. Peter, it’s okay to leave the city. Haven’t Ben and May already told you like a million times?”
***
“What’s all this?” Ned looks at the mountain of boxes littering a backroom at F.E.A.S.T. There are written Parker Donations in black Sharpie on the side of them.
Peter grins as his friend joins him. It’s Saturday, the meeting with Sam the day before had gone amazing, and despite his uncertainty about whether or not now was a good time to leave the city, he’d accepted both MIT and Sam’s offer to coach him. And then, he’d promptly started going through all his stuff to throw old stuff out.
Sweaters and jeans he hadn’t used in ages. Old toys that had been hiding under his bed since he started Figure skating. He’s keeping the lightsabers, of course, he and Ned had spent many good hours fighting with the plastic blades. But mostly everything else was donated to F.E.A.S.T.
Including, Peter’s old hockey gear and figure skating stuff he still had but had outgrown years ago that still held the same high quality. A pair of skates that he’d outgrown when he was fifteen. A thermos hoodie, that kept him warm, but hadn’t been used more than twice, because he’d been given an Official US jacket soon after investing in it. Proudly showing off his country.
“It’s my stuff,” Peter says, “And now it’s F.E.A.S.T.s.”
Ned looks through some of it. Old gear hockey gear catches his attention. “You could sell this stuff off for a bit of extra cash,” he tells him.
Peter shrugs, “Or I could donate it to F.E.A.S.T. You know, there’s this kid, he’s been staying here with his mother. He’s playing hockey, or he used to. Would love to come back to it, but my money is tight. He’ll love this.”
“And your old skate?” Ned looks at him with a frown, “You skated your first nationals in these!”
“Ned…” Peter gives his friend a look. Ned doesn’t comment, watching as Peter pulls the skates out of the box. “I… I’m going to MIT. I’ve accepted Sam’s offer. I’ll have plenty of time to win cool medals and stuff, I don’t need to save a pair of skates I’ll never use again, for sentimental value.”
His friend's face morphs into shock before he pulls Peter into the biggest hug he’s ever gotten. Ned’s strong, it’s part of the reason he plays Hockey so well, and it makes the hug feel… well, powerful.
“May and Ben must be so excited!” Ned is dancing around with him, and Peter can do nothing to get out of the hold. “We’re following our dreams! We’re pros now, Pete. Real pros!”
***
June 2018
High school graduation arrives much quicker than Peter had ever expected. Ben’s treatment is going as expected, his hair has fallen out, so on the day of graduation he’s wearing an old black hat that he’d bought during his first round of cancer. But it doesn’t stay on for very long, because with a diploma in hand, and his whole life before him, Peter doesn’t throw his cap into the air like the rest of his class, he places it on Ben’s head with a big grin.
Ben’s hugs don’t change because of Chemo, and on that day, it feels extra special having him by his side. His warm, comforting, presence is right there to catch him if he falls.
The three of them – Peter, May, and Ben – as well as Ned’s parents and sister, go out for lunch together. Celebrating graduation, celebrating good grades, celebrating dreams coming true all around them.
Ned’s sister is starting high school after the summer break, and she’s going to try out for track. Says she loves running together with Ned, so she might as well give it a try. See what she can do with it.
They cheer for that.
They cheer for a lot of stuff that day.
When Peter and the others finally return him late in the afternoon he feels exhausted. He’s spent hours and days on an ice rink, never feeling tired, but this knocks him on his ass. He falls asleep on the couch, as the three of them watch some old movie that May love. It had been Richard’s favorite too – Peter’s dad’s favorite.
When Ben shakes him awake, carefully, it’s dark outside. A single light lingers next to the TV, bathing the living room in a golden glove. “You alright?”
Peter nods, “Just tired. Exhausted, I guess. It’s… I don’t know.”
“It’s normal,” Ben says, sitting down on the couch with Peter. Peter easily lets his head drop into Ben’s lap. He’s probably too old for it, but Ben’s fingers start running through Peter’s air the second they’re both comfortable. “You’ve spent the better part of your life working towards this. Now that it’s over, your body can finally breathe.”
“Maybe then I’ll skate better.” Peter jokes.
Ben smiles down at him with pride in his eyes. “I’m sure you will. You’ll nail all your quads in no time. Just you wait.”
May comes back a little later, and by then Ben is asleep. Peter’s hovers somewhere close to sleep too. Smiling at her, she pulls out a blanket and throws it over the two of them. She kneels by him for a flicker of a second, “You’ve done good, Peter. You’ve done so good.”
He wants to thank her. To tell her that he wouldn’t be where he is now if it hadn’t been for her and Ben. Not just with skating, but with life too. If they hadn’t taken him in when his parents died, if they hadn’t protected him from foster care, and moving from family to family. They’re family, through and through. But he’s too tired to say any of it… instead, he hums contently and lets himself fade into sleep right there, head resting in Ben’s lab.
***
He starts packing for college in late June. He isn’t going until early August, but Peter needs to do something, and with the ice open to the public during summer break, there’s a limit to how many hours Peter can stay at the rink.
Peter’s digging through an old box in their addict, finding old photos of him and Ned when they were younger. Kid. He wants to bring some to MIT, making a collage in his dorm room. Only, he doesn’t have any photos of the whole team, so he’s digging through Ben’s photos to see if he has one.
Instead, he finds a photo album that looks to be older than Ben.
From beginning to end – Parker
Is written in detailed, golden letters on the front of the leather binding that keeps all the photos safe. It’s dusty. He gives up finding a hockey photo and brings the album downstairs. He cleans it carefully with a wet cloth, before falling onto the couch with tea and the album in hand.
There are photos of a baby boy, running around a house Peter doesn’t know. However, he knows the baby boy looks a lot like himself. His father. There is a photo of the baby as it grows up into a toddler, and then a kid, and a teen, before finally a young adult.
There are family around him that Peter knows, Ben and May and Mary, but there’s also plenty he doesn’t know. Grandparents, cousins.
Some photos are first. First day at school, first time getting an A, first exam, first step, first kiss, first girlfriend, first bear, first and only wife. It’s written in pen on the back of the photos, by someone who’s writing Peter doesn’t immediately recognize, but then he spots the dot over the I’s, and he knows he has birthday cards – first birthday cards - somewhere with that same writing in. He guesses it must have been Ben and Ricard's mother, Peter’s grandmother.
Near the back of the album, there’s a picture put back into the pocket the wrong way. A little note is written on the back:
Our greatest glory is not in never falling.
But in rising every time we fall.
Love Mom.
Peter carefully pulls the photo out of its protective plastic, turning it in his hands. He’s expecting something like a science prize photo, or something else that might have been hard, something that might have made his father give up.
Maybe he half expects a picture of himself in Richards's arms...
He finds neither. A fifteen-year-old is staring into the camera. Tears are flowing down his cheeks, and his eyes are red. The photo is much higher quality than the rest of the collection, it must have been taken professionally. Richard is wearing a tight black costume and a pair of black skates. He’s at a rink, holding up a small bronze medal. Not a real one, Peter notes, but the type of medal used during competitions at small clubs.
“I’d forgotten we had that photo,” May says with a sigh, appearing at the door. “You look so much like him.”
“He skated?” Peter looks up. He’s never heard about this before.
May nods. “Ben told me about it once. Richard lost a bet and was forced to take ice skating lessons, but he turned out to love it. Don’t think he ever made it past single jumps, though.”
Peter looks at the picture in his hand, “Can I take this?”
“Sure thing Peter, it’s a waste if it’s just in some dusty old album.”