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Summary
“Why are you on the ice?”“...We’re ice skating.” Tom proffered dully, fighting down the pink prickling his cheeks.Harry, curse him, started to laugh and said, “No shit, Sherlock, but that’s not―that’s not ice skating. You’re just lying down. Why?”Tom folded his arms and stubbornly refused to answer. Admitting to himself that his own jackassery had put him here was one thing―admitting it out loud to someone else was another entirely."Unfortunately, Harry seemed to put two and two together, and with a wave of his hand, the blades on his ice skates vanished, and he crouched down slowly. “...Oh my god,” He said. “You don’t know how to ice skate.
In which Tom lies about knowing how to ice skate and is roped into doing a tournament with Harry for money. It goes a lot better than expected.
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