Risking Thorns | Phillip Altman x Reader

Risking Thorns

Prompt: Okay that gif set of Altman has me like 🤤 so here's a prompt (if you're taking them, if not that's fine, let's just gush over that man): one time you visit him at his home and he's being all sweet but naughty and teasing so he just takes you to his childhood bedroom and fucks you against the wall while everyone's calling you downstairs for dinner lol

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You slid into the dasher boards for the third time. You simply couldn't maintain the speed for a single flip jump. You wobbled as you skated out of it, and consequently, kept falling on your ass. This shouldn't be so difficult. You'd made the jump last week.

Penny skated over, frowning. "Looks like your edges are dull," she said as she stopped in front of you, offering a hand up. "When's the last time you had them sharpened?"

You took her hand, dug a toe-pick into the ice, and let her haul you to your feet. She was much stronger than she looked.

"Before St. Patrick's Day?" you hedged.

Penny's eyes went wide, and you grimaced. It was already April, and you'd been going hard for the past three-and-a-half weeks.

"That was seven lessons ago!"

"I know."

"Have you been practicing between lessons?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god, no wonder!" She pushed off towards the open dasher door. "We're going to get those skates sharpened now."

"I can do it after practice."

She said over her shoulder, "You can't practice in those dull skates."

With a sigh, you followed her. She didn't comment as you sat beside her on the bench to take off your skates. You wiped the snow off the blades, dried the underside of the boots, and slipped on the soakers.

"You got ten bucks?" she asked as she packed away her skates and put on her sneakers.

"Yup!"

"Good, I'll get you my discount." She shouldered her skate bag as you finished tying your shoes. "Ready?"

You zipped your bag and stood. "Ready."

Penny closed down the rink and led the way to her car. You protested that you could follow, but she wouldn't hear it. She told you the store was on the opposite side of town from your place. It was better for her to drop you off at your car when you two were done than have you drive so much.

It was very sweet of her, and you thanked her.

Once she pulled out of the parking lot, you asked, "So, where are we going?"

"Altman's? I thought you got your skates sharpened there, too?"

Mental alarms went off as you shook your head. You knew the Altmans. They lived on the opposite end of your old street. Your father and step-mother, Diane, still lived there. You and the family had visited one day of the Altmans sitting shiva after Mort had passed.

That had been awkward as fuck. Dr. Altman had reminisced about her wedding night. Phillip had watched you the whole time, his phone screen going black. His girlfriend—a gorgeous redhead, of course—had been softly talking to Diane about the psychology of grief.

You had sat there next to your father and pretended the whole situation was normal.

Though, maybe it had been normal. Phillip had always stared at you. When you'd been sixteen, and he'd been fourteen, you'd caught him peeking over the backyard fence to ogle you and your friends in the hot-tub gazebo. You'd chased him to his bike, him laughing the whole way.