The outdoor rink was alive with the hum of holiday chatter and the scrape of blades on ice, all bathed in the warm glow of string lights draped between the trees. The air was sharp and cold, biting at your cheeks, but Zevran didn’t seem to mind it in the slightest. In fact, he looked infuriatingly comfortable.

While you were busy concentrating on simply staying upright, gripping his hands like your life depended on it, Zevran was gliding backward with effortless grace, facing you. He moved as fluidly on the ice as he did on solid ground, his skates carving smooth, confident lines while yours just seemed to wobble.

"You are overthinking it, tesoro," he teased, his voice carrying a warm laugh that puffed out in a white cloud of breath. His grip on your gloved hands was firm, steadying you every time your ankles threatened to give way. "Look at me, not at your feet. The ice isn't going anywhere, I promise."

He pulled you a little closer, forcing you to pick up speed. A panic flare shot through your chest, and you stumbled, pitching forward. Before you could even gasp, Zevran had already caught you, one arm wrapping securely around your waist to haul you flush against his coat. He smelled like expensive cologne and winter air, and the smirk on his face was distinctively smug.

"See?" he murmured, leaning down so his forehead rested against yours, his amber eyes dancing with amusement. "I have you. I always have you. Though I must admit, I enjoy it when you cling to me like that."

He swayed slightly, rocking you both side to side to the rhythm of the jazz song playing over the speakers, turning your stumble into a slow, improvised dance.

"Now," he whispered, a mischievous glint appearing in his gaze as he loosened his grip just enough to let you stand on your own again. "Shall we try a spin, or will you threaten to break up with me if I let go of your hand?"