Summary: Zane and Cole decide to go ice skating.

I own nothing but the story.

Saturday evening was usually a fun night for the ninja—so long as each of them had something to do. Saturdays were intended for going out, whether it be for dinner, dates, or both, and staying in for the evening was considered both pathetic and a waste.

This was why, with the clock reading 7:30 and still ticking the night hours away, Cole lay fuming on the living room couch. The television flickered in and out of focus, its signal wonky due to the Bounty's position in the air. Cole grumbled as the campy sitcom he was watching repeatedly cut out in favor of static. He picked at little balls of fuzz gripping the couch's fabric, seething as he thought of his so-called "friends" who all made plans without him.

They didn't appear to have meant to; it just worked out that way. Jay and Nya left for dinner and a movie, Kai and Lloyd hunted down every last quarter on the Bounty and headed off to the arcade, and Zane had been out all day in the city's largest public library, doing something nerdy that Cole wasn't sure he'd be able to follow. That left him to spend the evening entertaining Sensei Wu, who wasn't much of a playmate anyway.

It wasn't the first time this happened. Every once in awhile, some unfortunate ninja was left to spend their evening alone with the television set, and out of the entire team, Cole hated it the most. Not because he didn't enjoy spending time alone, but because it happened to him most often. There were only so many weekends Cole could do this and still like himself by Sunday morning.

The television hummed as it blinked into static once more. He threw his head back into the cushions and groaned. He hated nights like this. Turning towards Sensei's room, he wondered if his teacher would be up for a game of blackjack.

The door to the Bounty's cabin suddenly squealed open, heavy footsteps following in its wake. Cole snapped his gaze in the other direction, surprised to see Zane appear in the living room entrance, carrying a large bag and looking thoroughly bushed.

Before Cole could think of something to say, Zane dropped the bag with a thud and said, "Some man hit me with his truck on my way back over here."

Cole's jaw fell to the floor, "Are you alright?"

Zane shrugged, "I am, but I dropped my books all over the sidewalk. Do you have any idea how filthy the streets of Ninjago are?"

Cole's head spun in circles as he processed Zane's nonchalant demeanor, "I guess, but were you hurt? Injured?"

Zane shook his head. "Shallow dent in my thoracic cage, nothing I cannot fix in the next day or so," he gestured to the couch, "May I sit?"

Cole shifted his feet to the floor, pleased that he finally had company. Dragging his bag behind him, Zane collapsed onto the other end, eyeing the television curiously.

"Are you fond of watching white noise?"

Cole shook his head, shutting off the set, "The signal's flickering out."

"Oh," Zane said.

"How was the library?" Cole asked, grabbing a handful of pretzels from a bag he set out earlier.

Zane smiled and turned on a nearby lamp. "Wonderful," he said as he unzipped his bag and pulled it near him, "I found this delightfully large book on ocean life!" he dug around inside until he emerged with a tome the size of the sideboard, "I think I'll spend the night with it, actually. If I can get it into the bedroom, of course. Would you mind carrying my bag for me?"

He flashed Cole one of his most earnest grins, the kind he knows well that Cole can't say no to.

Cole sighed. "Of course I will."

"Thank you, friend. So how has your evening been so far?"

Cole groaned, "Couldn't be worse."

His teammate frowned, "Why?"

"I'm just bored. Everyone has plans, and I hate spending Saturday nights alone."

"Oh," said Zane, "Would you care to read about ocean life with me?"

Cole laughed, "Not especially. The ocean weirds me out."

"Really? We could build a pillow fort."

That sounded interesting, but he'd still have to read a book about oceans, and Cole didn't think he'd be up to that.

"No thanks," he said, sighing, "I think I'll just head down to the all night café."

"You don't sound too enthused."

"Well, my good man, there's only so many nights I can go before I start looking pathetic. The staff can already guess my orders."

"Why not do something else instead?" Zane suggested, putting a finger to his lips in thought, "Is there anything you would like to do?"

Plenty of things, but, "None that we could do right now."

He could almost see the lightbulb appear over Zane's head as his eyes lit up, "I know!" he said, "I saw an ice skating rink on my route towards the library, would you be interested in skating for a few hours?"

"Hm," Cole looked towards his reflection in the empty television, "I dunno. Never been ice skating before."

At Zane's silence, Cole looked over to see his friend staring at him, mortified.

"You've never been ice skating before?"

Cole gave a slow head shake, "I hardly even saw snow where I grew up."

Zane was silent for a long time, to the point where Cole began to get concerned.

"Uh...Zane?"

"Get your shoes."

"Huh?"

"Shoes. And grab your sweater." Zane stood and stepped over his bag, now forgotten. Cole sat up straight.

"We're going skating?"

"Of course," Zane went down the hallway, grabbing a knit hat.

"But what about your ocean book?" Cole asked, standing.

"The book can wait," Zane turned back to look at him, "This can not. I can't believe you have never gone ice skating."

He tossed over a jacket hanging on the rack. It was Kai's.

"It's not—my fault," Cole said, crumbling the garment as he went over to his shoes. He wasn't up for skating, but he didn't want to stay in, either.

"That is of no matter," said Zane, "You are going to come with me, and we are going to skate."

Okay, Cole thought. He didn't know how to skate, and he was certain he would look like a flailing baboon the whole time he did it, but he'd much rather spend the evening goofing around with his friend than silently seething all alone.

And who knows, he thought as they left the Bounty, This might actually be fun.

He immediately regretted ever leaving the couch as soon as he entered the rink. It was far colder than he had expected, and he wished he had thought to bring his beanie, or some mittens. He shoved his hands into his pockets as Zane went over to retrieve some skates.

Cole began to examine his surroundings, and was surprised to find the rink completely empty. While he felt glad knowing no one would bear witness to the monstrosity that would be him skating, it was unnerving to enter a popular public area on a Saturday to find it completely empty. It felt like going to see a concert only to find yourself as the sole audience member.

"Here, Cole!" Zane called from a patch of carpet at the rink's edge. He already had his skates on, and was holding up the other pair.

Feeling self conscious, Cole went over and began slipping on the skates.

"Make sure they are laced tight," said Zane, his voice warm.

Cole pulled at the laces until they choked his shins. He stood with a wobble, and Zane stepped onto the ice, gliding away with the all the grace of a professional.

"It is a good thing we are alone tonight," said Zane, "Now we won't have to worry about other skaters running over your fingers."

Cole pressed his fingertips into his palms. Zane moved in a little circle before stopping to face him.

"Come on," he said, "Step onto the ice."

Cole stepped to the edge of the carpet, using one hand to grip the rail. He put one foot forward, and drew it back.

"What's wrong?" called Zane.

Cole shrugged, "I don't want to fall."

Zane laughed, "Do not worry about that. The first thing I am going to teach you is how to fall properly. Have you ever gone roller skating before?"

Cole nodded, "That I have done."

Zane clapped his hands, "Good. Ice skating is similar. This will make teaching a breeze."

Good, Cole thought as he crept onto the ice, I might not be a complete failure.

He gripped the railing so hard he feared he bent it. Zane skated to a stop near him, spraying a flurry of frost onto his ankles.

"Ready to fall properly?"

"Yes, I'm going to be doing it so much, I'd hate to do it wrong." Cole yelped as his left foot began sliding away from him.

"Do not worry," Zane wrapped his arm under both of Cole's and pulled him away from the rail, "It's for your own safety. It is important to fall so that you can keep your limbs protected, and so you know how to get up again."

Cole sighed, "Alright."

The falling process was about as painful as Cole imagined. Zane said it was important to fall sideways, and to keep all appendages, "towards the trunk," as he put it.

Falling down was the easy part; the hard part was getting up. Zane said to, "Keep your center of gravity," to keep your foot in between your hands as you stood up. Ten minutes of trying and failing had passed before he was able to do it by himself.

He was feeling pretty proud until Zane cheerfully sang that it was time to start, "marching and gliding," moving across the ice at a steady speed without falling.

Zane said it was like roller skating, but Cole didn't see the similarities at all. He floundered across the ice, wobbling and flopping and hardly managing to remain on his feet.

Or off his butt.

"You have to march," said Zane as Cole flailed about for the eightieth time.

"What do you mean, march?" his foot slipped out from beneath him, and he slammed on his behind once again. Getting up was a slow process, and all the while, Zane skated gracefully around the rink, like a swan circling a drowning crow.

"Are you okay?" Zane said as he came to a stop next to him, "We can quit if you want to."

"No, no," Cole stood higher, arms spread as he struggled to keep his center of gravity, "I'm getting the hang of it, really."

"Hm," Zane pressed his fingers to his lips, "I think I know something that may help you."

Cole nodded.

Zane held his arms ajar, "Try and—when you're gliding, pretend you are on a scooter. The ice is the road, and you'll propel yourself forward. This will help you move around."

Cole was skeptical, but, "Okay."

Things did seem easier after that. Cole found himself moving more than a few feet and remaining upright when he drifted to a stop. Once he was able to move around, Zane taught him to stop, which involved merely sliding the skate flat until it created a snowplow, as Zane called it.

Turning became easier when he finally figured out how to maneuver the momentum he carried. After a while, he was able to move around the rink with little to no trouble, much to Zane's delight.

"You did it!" he exclaimed.

Cole cheered as he made his first full lap, "Finally."

"Give yourself some credit," said Zane, speeding next to him, "You learn fast. I am proud of you."

"Thanks," said Cole, eyeing his friend, "Say, uh, how do you move so fast?"

"Get low, lean forward," said Zane, "And try not to look down so much. It's all about distribution of weight."

"Okay," Cole bent his knees and began gliding faster.

"There you go!" said Zane, slowing to turn.

Cole smiled, unable to believe he was having as much fun as he was. It was such a turnaround from the previous few hours, and he began considering returning for another Saturday. Sure, he was aching all over and was going to have trouble bending for the next few days, but this was fun, this was exciting, this was far more entertaining than roller blading. He should do this all the time, improve his skills. He began moving faster.

Zane suddenly let out a shout, and Cole saw the railing coming at him pretty fast. He wasn't sure he was able to turn in time. He tried to stop, but how was he supposed to stop again? Snowplow, right, snowplow. He turned his skate to the side, hearing it scrape layers of frost off the ice.

"Turn, turn!" came Zane's frantic call.

Turn? Now Cole was getting a little panicked. Should he turn or stop?

Listen to Zane, said a voice in his head, He knows more than you, therefore he knows best.

He turned his skate straight and began leaning to the right.

"Wait! No, Cole stop!" Zane raced towards him, but it was too late. Cole hit the railing with a dull thud, and while he managed to avoid slamming his entire body into the wall, pain exploded in the hand he used to shield himself. Before his tailbone hit the ice again, he managed to yell out a single, but expressive, curse word.

"Well, Cole," the doctor clasped her hands together, "You've torn a ligament."

"Oh, man," Cole clutched his tender wrist, which had grown twice in size since they'd left the rink.

The doctor laughed, turning to Cole with a smile on her freckled face, "First time skating?"

Cole shrugged, "Um, on ice."

From his spot beside the door, Zane offered a tight smile.

"Well, don't worry," said the doctor, "It's only a minor sprain, just a tear. With a little time, some choice exercises, and rest, it'll heal on its own. Let's fix you up with a splint."

"Alright," Cole rubbed at his hand and looked over to Zane, "We've got some painkillers at home, right?"

"Yes," Zane said, his voice just above a whisper.

Cole frowned. Zane had been acting strange since he'd come rushing over to him after so gracelessly damaging some more of his sit bones. The entire walk here he'd been mostly silent, only answering Cole's questions with a small, "yes," or "no."

This behavior continued throughout the entire doctor's session and well after they left the building. They'd walked halfway back to where the Bounty was parked before Cole finally broke the silence.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Hm?"

"Come on!" Cole nudged his friend with the shoulder that wasn't connected to his injured wrist, "You're acting all weird. What's wrong?"

Zane looked at the splint that covered Cole's hand and sighed, "I just feel bad."

"For what, me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Zane barked out a laugh, "Look at yourself! Sprained wrist, multiple bruises, overworked muscles!"

With each injury, Cole became aware of how much he ached, but nevertheless, "So?"

"So? So!" Zane stopped and faced him, "That was very poor teaching on my part. I should have properly protected you. I should have given you wrist guards, a helmet. You could have been severely hurt," his eyes widened as a thought struck him, "You could have gotten a concussion! No, no, no," Zane shook his head and sat down on the curb, "That was poor teaching, very poor. I'm sorry, Cole."

Cole stood for a moment before dropping next to his friend, "Zane," he began, "It's really okay. It was my first time. We just move on, wiser than we were before. You're a great teacher. Besides, if tonight has made anything clear, it's that I got a real thick skull."

Cole smiled when he heard his friend chuckle.

"And hey," he added, "We can get wrist guards for next time. I know how to skate, now, so there should be fewer injuries, anyway."

Zane blinked, then turned to look at him, "You want to skate again?"

Cole grinned, "Yeah! This was the most fun I've had in weeks. We should go every Saturday."

A laugh left Zane's lips, "I think we should let you heal, first," he said, tapping at the splint.

Cole smirked, turning over his wrist, "Yeah, maybe."

"But we could—" said Zane, a little unsure, "In the meantime, we could get you your own skates, your own wrist guards, your own helmet."

"Woah, woah woah," Cole held up a hand, "I'll wear some wrist guards, but I'm not wearing any old helmet."

"Why not?"

Because it's dorky. "Because I'll get helmet hair!"

Zane smirked, "Okay."

Cole grinned, and they sat awhile, enjoying each other's company. They were silent the rest of the way back to the Bounty, but the silence was a companionable one. The following morning Cole hurt so bad he had to get Lloyd to pull his pants up for him, but all the same, he couldn't wait for the following Saturday.

A collection of oneshots in all genres. Open to requests.