DISCLAIMER: As to the RGB, I don’t own anything but a piece of imagination and an ability to feel affection. None of those are extremely profitable in the financial sense. So I happily don't make any money of my activities in this field.
NOTES: It is my first fan fic ever – or it should be even called a rough sketch. I didn't try to copy anyone's style consciously (though I used one abbreviation), but it would be relieving to know for sure. I ought to warn you that English is my second language, so I suspect there must be lots and lots of mistakes in the text; besides, I have no beta-reader. So I'd appreciate any comments (including the most severe criticism and remarks on my grammar mistakes and idiomatic crimes). Thank you in advance!

The ice was good. They must have smoothed it out just this morning, and now there were only a few people, so it was almost intact – and tempting. Especially for a skater like myself – I hadn't been to the skating-rink in ages.

Okay, maybe... no, VERY PROBABLY, it was not the best idea for a BMOC-to-be. Skating had never rated highly, let alone... another thing I was about to disgrace myself with. But I figured it was not fatal – no frat rat would get up at nine o’clock in the morning – on Sunday! – to enjoy winter sports. Ha! I could hardly believe I had done it.

This kid... Nah, I was nuts, no doubt about it. I promised to teach him to skate! Why, for Pete’s sake? Why did I choose yesterday to walk through the park instead of heading straight for the campus? Why did I happen to spot that boy? And there was definitely no reason for me to ask Teddy what was wrong...

If he isn't here in two minutes, I’ll know for sure that I am a fool. Well, something valuable should come out of this whole mess, right?

I refused to have a look at my watch and let my eyes wander around. I was sitting on a bench across from the gate (to avoid missing him), and if I were here as a spectator, I couldn't have chosen a better position. Except for the tiny fact that there was nobody to look at. Almost nobody, but that guy. I mean I am really good at skating, and I am fast. Most of the skaters were not worth looking at. That guy was.

You’d think such a Daddy-Long-Legs couldn’t be swift on the ice. All those physical factors, you know. Mistake. I am not a dwarf either, but he was at least five inches taller. And I suspected he'd beat me, if we raced; he moved as if he was wearing Mercury’s shoes.

I caught myself wanting to try, nevertheless, - if only to make sure he also knows the feeling of wind. Football is fun, but it never gives you wings; you can’t leave the ground, when there is a ball to look after, two dozen of people to play for or against and a crowd watching you like hawks.

"Hello!"

I glanced to the left and was rewarded with the sight of Teddy looking up at me expectantly.

"Hi, kid. Ready to become a champion?"

"Not yet," he answered seriously, and I suppressed a grin. Teddy was not ready for my sort of humor. And – honestly – who was?

... Have you ever dared to teach a child to skate? It was a first for me, and the result might be called a bit disheartening. The kid enjoyed himself enormously while I was pulling him after me, but all the attempts on his own were in vain. An hour later the most significant achievement of ours was him sliding two yards after my push without falling down at the finish. And the next try ended with Teddy landed on all fours.

He hesitated for a moment, then turned over and sat down onto the ice miserably. I sighed and sat down beside him.

A movement on the right caught my eye.

"What’s wrong with the boy? Do you require any assistance?"

Jeez! I knew that deep voice. My imagination immediately combined it with a lanky figure wearing glasses and suspenders – two details to describe our Columbian genius. It was bad enough someone of ours saw me, but this geek of all people!.. I lifted my head and glared at Egon Spengler. To be more exact, I started glaring – and wound up gaping. That tall skater... was him?!

He looked at me for a second as well, then shook his head slightly and suddenly squatted beside Teddy, as if about to get the information from the most reliable source. "Scientists!" I thought gloomily.

"Hello! Have you injured yourself?"

A brilliant question to ask a seven-year-old, right? Wrong! Must be that voice, it sounded... I dunno... cosy... comfortable... trustworthy. To the kid, I mean!

"Just bruised, I think," Teddy answered, rubbing his knee. Then he added sadly, "I’ll never manage it!"

"Nonsense!" "Garbage!" Spengler and I said in chorus, and I glared at him again. What did he want here?

Spengler pulled off his glove and touched Teddy’s leg carefully.

"Is there any pain?"

Teddy shook his head.

"Then you had better get up. ‘It’s not too wise to sit on the ice’." Spengler looked at me briefly, but pointedly. What the hell! I stared back without changing my position a bit, while Teddy took Spengler’s hand and stood up.

The local genius reached down to shake the snow from the kid’s pants.

"I didn’t know you had an elder brother, Venkman," he said matter-of-factly.

I thought my jaw was going to drop and hit the ice. I couldn’t remember who had ever left me speechless before. Whatever I would do after such a remark, it wouldn’t change this fact in the slightest. And the ice WAS cold. So I got up.

Spengler was watching the process impassively.

"You were in the middle of the lesson there, weren’t you?" he asked, addressing his question to no one in particular.

"Yes." Teddy was eager enough to answer, and I was just as eager to get Spengler as far from here as possible.

"I saw you both practicing, and I suppose you need a little theory as well."

"Okay, maybe you should give him the formula?" I snapped.

"It could prove to be helpful," Spengler answered tranquilly, turning to the kid. "Please forgive my manners - or lack of them. My name is Egon Spengler."

"Theodore Baxter. Glad to meetcha, sir." Teddy shook the outstretched hand solemnly. I would have sniffed at the procedure, but the kid looked pleased to be treated like an adult... And I remembered the impression I'd gotten of him yesterday: a boy sick and tired of being a pet-kitten of a big family.

"All the pleasure is mine," Spengler responded, squeezing the boy’s hand gently. "Please, call me Egon."

"If you are finished with the formalities," I drawled, "what about a lesson from a master?"

The words sounded somewhat defensive even to my own ear, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all. And I liked it even less, when Teddy looked up at me with uncomprehending eyes...

"Of course, Master, proceed," Spengler nodded agreement. "I shall just clarify one detail for Theodore."

It was my turn to be at a loss. He was laughing at me a minute ago, and now he pretended not to have noticed my less than graceful retreat. He made it into MY joke – and a light one, to boot.

For the kid’s sake, right?

I missed the explanation. It must have been really short... and effective. I don’t know if he used diagrams and formulae, but Teddy seemed to have gotten something,indeed. Because the next thing I saw was the boy grabbing both my and Spengler's hands and driving us forward – or trying to, at least. We cooperated, and in a quarter of an hour Teddy released us to slide on his own – somewhat awkwardly, maybe, and not too fast yet, but he was skating!

I was horrified to find myself smiling from ear to ear and quickly exchanged that unsuitable expression for a smirk. A day of disasters, sure thing. Another one like it – and I’ll need a shrink even before I become one myself.

I glanced at the guy standing beside me. He had a pile of evidences to ruin my reputation; he had interfered with my teaching methods; he had made me feel like an idiot...

He averted his eyes from the boy, pushed his glasses up and returned my stare with a slight curve of his mouth.

"Good-bye, Venkman," he said softly and headed for the gate.

"See you, Spengler," I replied automatically... and suddenly realized that I meant it.

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