Chapter Text
Viktor's laugh is like wildflowers. At least, Yuuri thinks so.
Before the ice icon came to Hasetsu, Yuuri had only ever heard him laugh in recorded press conferences. It was smooth and coy, perfectly manicured, and apparently completely fake.
So Yuuri was entirely unprepared when he encountered Viktor's real laugh for the first time.
He doesn't remember what he said to startle it out, but Viktor lit up so bright, and wild, and the sound had strange, imperfect angles that were beautiful in their own untamed way. His face wrinkled up, and he looked so vibrant and alive that Yuuri couldn't help but love it.
The memory lives forever on an endless loop in his head: when Viktor's mask slipped away, and for a second, Yuuri got to see him—the real him.
And he's obsessed.
Even now, as Yuuri lies in bed, rain lashing down on the onsen's roof, he can't stop a smile from creeping up his face. He only half notices as a bolt of lightning flashes, followed by a clap of thunder so loud it resonates in his bones. But warmth tugs deep within his stomach, and he imagines messy, colorful, wonderful. Viktor.
"Um, Yuuri?" It's a familiar accent.
"Huh?" He jumps, eyes flying open, one hand immediately reaching for his glasses. He hadn't even heard his door open. How could Viktor have... but sure enough, as the world slides into focus, there he is.
He looks kind of… lost. Standing in Yuuri's open doorway, with a pillow tucked under one arm and a bundle of blankets under the other.
"Sorry to wake you up." He's smiling, but something about it looks wrong. It's sort of pinched. It's subtle. Yuuri might not have noticed, except for something glinting in his eyes that looks almost nervous, and the two expressions just don't match.
"That's okay. I-is the roof leaking in your room again?"
"Uh, no. I was actually wondering, can I sleep in here with you tonight?"
"Uhh…"
A bolt of lightning splinters outside the window, creating a burst of harsh light. Viktor tenses, holding his breath like he's bracing for something. His face is schooled to look viciously neutral, staring at Yuuri like he's listening. But his thoughts are clearly somewhere else.
Then, a crash of thunder fills the air. It shakes the house, which isn't unusual for this time of year, but Viktor's shoulders don't relax until it fades out.
And all the pieces click together.
There's that warm tug in Yuuri's stomach again, creeping up towards his chest, and it's stronger now than ever.
"Yeah, of course. You can sleep in here."
"Thank you." The Russian man murmurs, avoiding eye contact, and Yuuri doesn't know what to do with that.
Restless energy crackles to life under his skin, and he's filled with a sudden, burning need to fix this. Whatever it is. For Viktor. "Here, take my bed."
"No! No, I couldn't. I'll just sleep on the floor."
"You can't sleep on the floor."
"And you can?"
"You're a guest. You should take the bed."
Viktor—who's already laying his blankets down—stops for just a second. "You're doing me a favor, letting me sleep in here." And he just sounds sad. Even his fake grin is slipping. "Please, don't let me kick you out of your bed too."
"O-okay." Yuuri's not doing a good job of making this better. Maybe Viktor doesn't want help. "If you're sure."
"I am. What kind of coach would I be if I let you sleep on the floor?" He laughs lightly, but it comes out wrong. It's nothing like the wild, beautiful laugh that lives in Yuuri's head. "Goodnight, Yuuri." It feels so final. So unbridgeable.
"Goodnight."
Viktor settles on the hardwood in silence, but Yuuri can't return to his daydream or to sleep. He can't stop staring at Viktor's spine. With each clap of thunder, he curls tighter and tighter around his pillow. Yuuri can picture his stony expression, braced against the waves of thunder and lightning so loud they rattle the planks beneath him. And forcing a smile the whole time.
Yuuri wants to fix it. He needs to. He needs to fix this like he needs air. Which is something he'll definitely examine later, but for now, he needs a plan.
He has absolutely no plan. No ideas at all, but he knows Viktor. What does Viktor like?
Just then, Makkachin comes trotting in, seemingly unaware of the storm, and Yuuri thinks he's saved. Because certainly she'll see her person curled up on the floor and go lay with him, right?
No.
To add insult to injury, she leaps onto Yuuri's bed and snuggles herself between him and the wall. Traitor.
And Viktor doesn't even turn to look.
Okay, so back to plan A. Think of something comforting—literally anything Viktor might find comforting.
Splinters of thunder and lightning keep crashing around the house, getting louder and louder as the storm moves closer, and Viktor is still suffering on the floor. Alone.
That's when Yuuri hears it.
Just one tiny, muffled sniffle among the pounding rain and instinct takes over. The tug in him flairs into something else entirely, taking on a life of its own. It fills him like a roaring monster, crouched and ready to take off in a sprint.
He doesn't stop or think; he just does. He's not even sure how he comes up with the stuff he does. It's like his brain restores to a backup save that isn't his.
Tossing a pillow on the ground, Yuuri crawls out of bed. And like he's being pulled forward by the monster's ache, he climbs down next to Viktor and curls around him.
Yuuri's first thought is how warm the other man feels pressed against him. It's actually nice. Really nice.
His second thought is, oh fuck, what has he just done?
But he can't get distracted now, and it's certainly too late to back out. So, here goes nothing.
"It's okay." Is all he's brave enough to whisper.
The voice that answers him is clearly meant to sound flippant, "I know." But it's tight and strained.
Experimentally, Yuuri wraps an arm around Viktor, being careful to fist his hand in the blanket to wick the nervous sweat away.
"I'm fine," Viktor cheers in the same fake tone. "I just wanted to have a sleepover." But his hand comes up to cling to Yuuri's knuckles anyway, clutching it there against his collarbone.
It makes the chest monster purr, which combines with the darkness to give Yuuri another crumb of confidence. "You know, when I was a kid, I was terrified of these big storms. Until I got used to them."
But Viktor is stubborn. "I'm fine, Yuuri. I'm not scared." Almost immediately, a clap of thunder explodes overhead, and he shrinks back against his big spoon.
Yeah, not scared at all.
"When I was a kid," Yuuri tries again. "I was always scared the lightning would strike the house."
"That seems like a reasonable fear," Viktor concedes. "For a child to have, of course." Yuuri hums in agreement, letting his head drift closer. His nose nuzzles the baby hairs on the other man's neck. To comfort him, of course. "Because… couldn't that happen?"
"It's not likely." Viktor's hair smells like vanilla and lavender. How does he do that? "There are a lot of tall trees around the house that will attract the lightning first."
"But wouldn't that set the tree on fire? Or knock it over into the house? What do we do if a tree comes crashing through the roof?"
Yuuri had actually never considered that before. Should he be worried about that?
"Umm, I guess we'd move to the floor in Mari's room."
It's an attempt at a joke, but Viktor doesn't laugh. "I thought only family was allowed to sleep on the floor. I'm a guest, remember?"
It hits Yuuri like a punch to the gut. Whatever little confidence he'd built melts into the shadows, leaving behind only the fumbling truth that was hiding underneath it. "You know you're not," he whispers. "Of course you're not."
"You just said I was."
"I didn't mean it." It's not a good enough explanation, but it's the only one that doesn't feel too personal. The only one that doesn't make it sound like he lays in bed at night thinking about the sound of Viktor's laugh.
"Then why did you say it?"
All Yuuri's managed to do is make this worse. All he's ever managed to do is push Viktor away, away from what felt too personal.
Maybe he has to let that go if he wants to fix this—which he really, really does. Yuuri's weak for Viktor Nikiforov, with his pretty eyes and spring-time laugh. He can be a little embarrassed if it makes Viktor feel better, right?
"Because I wanted to give my bed to you." He forces out. Followed by stony silence. The heart-palpitating, cold sweat kind. Well, not really silence silence, because of the whole giant thunderstorm outside. But it feels silent. Viktor is certainly silent. "I'm sorry. It was a bad excuse. I just wanted you to be comfortable. I wanted to make it better… for you."
More silence, then-
Viktor whispers, "I thought you hated me."
"What? I don't hate you."
"Really?"
"No."
He doesn't say anything else, so Yuuri takes a hint and shuts up, too. God, he really is the worst. He's been so awkward that Viktor thought Yuuri hated him?
He guesses that's not really surprising, given the way he's always hiding from him. Yuuri really is bad at this. All of this. Viktor was probably better off on the floor by himself.
Except,
Yuuri hasn't been running away for a few weeks now. He feels like he's given plenty of signals that he likes Viktor. And Viktor came to his room to be with him. Awkward, weird him. So maybe he doesn't need to be good at this. Whatever this is. Maybe not-perfect is still enough for Viktor.
Viktor's certainly not perfect. Secretly, Yuuri's starting to think he might not be good at this whole thing, either—the whole other people thing.
"Can we be friends, Yuuri?" Viktor's voice is just a tiny whisper, but it deafens his thoughts.
"Y-yeah." He feels slightly cracked open by the offer but in a sweet sort of way. "Yeah. I'd love to be your friend."
"You don't think I'm super annoying?"
Annoying?
"No. Do people think you're annoying?"
Viktor shrugs. Yuuri feels it more than sees it. "Some people do. I figured that was why you always ran away from me."
"Oh. Uh, no." Guilt churns in his stomach. "I- I was actually worried you were going to hate me."
"Why would I hate you?"
"Because," he swallows. "I'm kind of a loser?"
"What? You're not a loser. If anyone is a loser, it's me."
"You're literally a champion, Viktor. That's the opposite of a loser."
"Yeah, but all I am is a champion. You have a great family and a best friend who cares about you. He calls you more often than my mother texts me. All I have is Makkachin, and she'd trade me for a bag of steamed buns if she could."
"Yeah, but she doesn't really have a concept of consequences. She'd trade the whole world for a bag of steamed bun, given the opportunity, so that's not really a fair comparison."
"Yeah, I guess."
Viktor lapses back into silence, but Yuuri, unfortunately, does not.
"I'll be your best friend." It takes him about zero-point-three seconds to hear how presumptuous that sounds, which is still five seconds too slow. "I mean- If you want! You don't have—"
“Okay!” Viktor chirps.
Oh. Apparently, it's just that easy.
Yuuri's saved from having to come up with a more eloquent response than cerebral-keyboard-smash by another clap of thunder. This one comes out of nowhere, and Viktor jumps. It's small but impossible to hide with Yuuri plaster against him. "Sorry," he murmurs.
"That's okay." Yuuri should think of something supportive to say. "So you're afraid of thunderstorms?"
Well, that wasn't it.
Viktor stiffens. "I know it's a little ridiculous."
"No, you- I didn't mean— " he fumbles. "You don't need to be embarrassed for me. I couldn't judge you even if I wanted to!"
"So… you want to?"
Damn it. How did he manage to dig himself into a new hole immediately after Viktor finished pulling him out of the last one? "No! I just meant, I like you a lot, and I want to be your friend. It would take a lot to convince me to judge you. Way more than this. I- I just like you too much to want to judge you."
He suddenly becomes aware that his pulse is too fast, and he feels slightly breathless, and he just used the phrase I like you a lot, so hopefully Viktor assumes he meant as a friend, and not in the I look at pictures of you on my phone when I miss you sort of way—which as a side note, he is defiantly also doing, and it's feeling less and less like platonic admiration by the nanosecond. Or he can just ruin this friendship in truly record time.
Hopefully not that one.
"Besides, everything makes me anxious. You don't need to justify what makes you anxious." He laughs awkwardly.
Maybe that tree will smash through the roof now and mercy kill him.
Viktor says nothing. The only sound in the whole room is the rain beating on the shingles and the blood rushing in Yuuri's ear.
"Besides," is he still talking? "We're best friends now, so you can tell me anything. That's what Phichit always says. Heh he."
Kill him.
"Okay." Viktor rolls over. "I can do that." His face is suddenly so close. Like, really, really close. If he'd been crying earlier, there's no evidence of it left now.
"G-good." Yuuri's heart is doing triple axels in his chest. It can't be good for him. It feels amazing.
"I'm not really afraid of thunderstorms," Viktor says as easily as if they were discussing the weather. Well, technically, they are discussing the weather, but also, not really. "They more make me feel… sad."
Oh.
"I used to be terrified of them when I was young. Until one night, I was at my grandmother's house, and she took me out on the porch with her to watch a storm. She used to like to do that." Viktor hummed softly. Yuuri can feel his breath. "After that, it became our tradition. Every time there was a storm, we would sit on the porch together, and she would tell me stories or share little pieces of wisdom."
"That sounds nice."
"It was. She passed away when I was fourteen, and ever since, thunderstorms have just made me feel…"
"Alone?"
"Yeah. I thought maybe I was past it. It had been years since I felt like that, but tonight, I woke up to the thunder, and… there it was."
"Well, the rainy season is starting, and there are going to be a lot more storms like this one. Maybe we can watch them together?"
"Yeah," Viktor smiles. "I'd like that."
Now Yuuri's heart's doing quad axels. "You can tell me some of your grandmother's wisdom."
There. That. That's Viktor's real laugh.
"I don't remember much of it. I was too young. She used to have all these sayings. Her favorite was, "Inside everyone is half of a snowflake, with its own unique shape. But somewhere out there is your matching half. Finding them might take a while, but when you do, it will be a perfect fit." Viktor smiles, more to himself than anyone else. "She'd tell me that every time a boy I liked didn't like me back. She always said…" Viktor trails off, and at first, Yuuri thinks he's just working out the words in English, but then he never starts again.
"What?"
"Nothing. It doesn't translate. The whole thing sounded better in Russian."
"No, I like it!" Yuuri nudges. "Nothing actually translates to English well."
"Right?" Viktor lights up. He looks unfairly radiant for lying on a floor in the middle of the night, like every fear he'd ever had was gone now, and it makes Yuuri unreasonably happy. "I keep thinking of things to say, but when I try to put them into English, it takes so many extra words."
"Do you know how many words there are in Japanese that don't exist in English?"
Viktor giggles. Yuuri wants to kiss him. "You should teach them to me in Japanese then. I want you to be able to express yourself."
Oh shit. Yuuri wants to kiss him.
... Could he?
Viktor is really close. And he's always touching Yuuri, and right now, Yuuri is touching him back. He thinks his eyes might dart down to Viktor's lips and back, but he can't be sure, because he's kind of freaking out right now.
Maybe Viktor isn't good at this either. Maybe that's okay. Here. Where it's just them being equally imperfect together.
"Have you noticed," he takes a breath to gather all his confidence, "that, in English, there's no good way to tell someone you like them? You can say you like them, but you have to rely on context for the person to understand. There's isn't a word for it."
"What about crush?" Viktor draws out the syllable, somehow making five simple letters sound intoxicating.
Yuuri blushes. "Umm, in college, people told me that word is kind of… small? That people often use it for children or… little feelings. There isn't really a word for adults."
"Ahh, well, that is a big problem with English then." Viktor's accent is heavy and warm in Yuuri's ears. "I find that kissing people tends to get the point across."
Yuuri's heart is pounding in his throat. He distantly feels himself nod. That's his opening. He's never going to get a better one. It's practically an invitation. Heat and nerves churn in his stomach, and he just has to do it. He just has to—
Viktor leans over and kisses him.
It's sweet and short, but it fans the heat into a sudden fire, crackling and popping inside him.
"I really like you, Yuuri."
"I really like you too." Snap. Crackle. Blush. "Viktor, c-could I take you to do something? Something that's not practice. Or cross-training. O-or, if you want—"
"Yuuri," he leans in impossibly close. "Are you asking me out on a date?" He's grinning from ear to ear. That, more than anything, drives Yuuri's certainty.
"Yes."
He squeals and launches at him with a hug. "I accept!"
And Yuuri's soul leaves his body. "Please- I mean, great. That sounds- I'm glad. Happy."
Viktor snickered before stealing another quick kiss. Yuuri barely has time to register it before it's over. "It's a date, then." A date. With Viktor. "How about now?"
"What? Now?"
"Yeah! I don't want to wait. We could have a sleepover date!"
Yuuri furrows his brows. "I thought we were already having a sleepover."
"Yeah, but it'll be better as a date!"
"Y-yeah." Viktor's violent enthusiasm is contagious. "Okay. Umm, do you want to go back to my bed then?"
His eyes flick over to the mattress hesitantly. "Can we still cuddle?"
"Look at the size of it, Viktor. I don't think there's a way we both fit if we don't."
"Perfect! Let's go!"
"Do you think Makka will share with us?"
It's the best first date of Yuuri's life.
***❤️❤️***
Yuuri has spent the majority of his day thinking about pulling Viktor into a dark closet and being not quite brave enough to do it. He blames Viktor's outfit.
A mortal man really shouldn't look that good in workout pants and a t-shirt, and yet. Viktor Nikiforov's ass can't be stopped by something as simple as physics. Not when it has genetics and rigorous exercise on its side.
And then Viktor had the audacity to kiss Yuuri in said workout pants, and it turned his mind to mush.
Dirty, dirty mush.
Mush that wants nothing more than to drag Viktor into a shadowy corner and touch everything. He can't get it out of his mind. Pinning Viktor to the wall, pressing against him. Maybe he trembles when he gets excited. Yuuri imagines letting his hands roam over Viktor's unbelievable ass, the dip of his waist, his unfairly sculpted pecks, the divot at the base of his throat, and then Yuuri'd… do… something. Something that he hopes he'll think of soon.
Because really, he's fantasized a lot. Like a lot. But he's been too scared to give Viktor more than a deep kiss.
And now they're sitting on their respective sides of Viktor's bed, and they should both go to sleep soon, and Yuuri is running out of time to make use of these pants sent from the gods. They're watching a movie he has long since stopped paying attention to because all he wants to do is climb in his boyfriend's lap. And the scary thing is, he thinks Viktor would let him. And then what? All that's left is to be a disappointment.
But in his head, he can hear Viktor's soft whimpers sending a very real chill up his spine. It makes his skin feel tight all over. "Yuuri, please—"
"Yuuri, do you think the ISU would let you compete if you developed superpowers?"
"Huh?" He jumps, attention snapping back to reality. He zoned out staring right at Viktor's thighs, which is incriminating enough on its own. It certainly doesn't help that he can feel how flushed he is. Flushed and slightly sweaty.
The Russian man quirks an eyebrow. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"
"No," he squeaks a little too defensively. "Of course not. I'm just thinking about the movie."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Viktor leans forward and flicks out a finger to tap pause. In an impressive display of flexibility, he practically folds himself in half in the process. "What's happening in it?"
Yuuri would love to test how far back his legs bend.
"What was your question? ISU and superpowers?"
"Hmmm," Viktor lounges back against the wall, tapping one finger to his lip. "Interesting."
"Uhh," Yuuri tears his gaze away. "Actually, that's sort of an interesting question."
"Thank you. I have been called a genius of my generation."
Yuuri makes a point of rolling his eyes, but it's probably undercut by the little smile he can't quite fight down. "Not as a thought leader on mutant powers."
Viktor waives his hand dismissively. "Details."
"Well… I think it would depend on the superpower. Super strength or super speed would definitely be considered performance-enhancing. But if you were a shapeshifter or something, I think they'd let you compete."
"But could you shape-shift your body to be stronger?"
"Hmm, I guess, maybe?" It probably wouldn't be Yuuri's first priority. "There have to be some powers that wouldn't impact your skating. Like, there's no way the ISU could argue telepathy would unfairly improve your performance."
"You could read the judge's minds and adjust your performance based on what they're thinking?"
"Viktor, how are you going to read five minds while you perform? I can barely keep my own thoughts straight. I can't have five other voices in my head."
He shrugs. "Maybe it just needs to be a coaching power. I always wish I knew what you were thinking when you skate."
Yuuri is decidedly glad he doesn't. "I think if I woke up with superpowers tomorrow, I just wouldn't mention it to the ISU."
"Devious, Yuuri. I love it!" Viktor smiles, and even just that causes a storm of butterflies in Yuuri's stomach. "You know, I bet you could ratify the quad axel if you had super strength."
"I bet you could ratify a quint axel with super strength."
"Ugh, I hate axels. You're much better at them. I'll ratify a quint flip. You ratify the axel!"
They somehow end up in a passionate debate on the pros and cons of each superpower, comparing the merits of shape-shifting vs. flying vs. invisibility (just for hiding from reporters). Yuuri's laptop falls asleep completely when they dive into freeze powers and the choreographing possibilities it opens up for ice dancing.
Viktor relitigates why psychic powers would, in fact, be helpful. "But I want to know what you're thinking!"
"I promise, it's not interesting."
But that doesn't stop him from sulking.
"How about this," he suggests after Yuuri assures him that there is absolutely no way for him to develop mutant powers. "We each get one psychic pass per week. You can use it at any point, and the other person has to tell you the honest truth about what they're thinking."
It's a high-risk, high-reward game, and Yuuri's first impulse is to say absolutely not. But a free pass to Viktor's brain is kind of the only thing he's ever wanted. The possibilities are endless.
"Okay." This is probably a terrible idea. "But one rule, you can only use it when we're alone."
"Of course. Your secrets are safe with me." Yuuri knows that somehow this is going to screw him, but he doesn't care. Think of all the things he can ask. "I want to use mine now!"
Oh no.
"Yuuri, my darling boyfriend, what were you thinking about earlier when you were staring at me?"
Yup, he's screwed.
Heat rises in his cheeks as he clears his throat. Inconspicuously, he hopes. "Why do you care what I was thinking?"
"It was good, wasn't it?"
"I just…" He wants to say he doesn't remember, but lying is kind of antithetical to the whole game. Yuuri's never been precious about lying, especially if it gets him out of an uncomfortable social situation, but something about that feels wrong now. He doesn't want to lie to Viktor—not when they're sitting on his bed together. He sure as hell doesn't want to tell him the truth either, though. "Why that moment specifically?"
"Because," Viktor pouts. "I've been wearing my sexy pants all day, and you haven't looked once. But, when I called your name earlier, your face got all red, like it is now, so I thought maybe—why are you laughing at me?"
Yuuri can't help it. It's bubbling out of him like a pot boiling over. "Viktor, I've been staring at your ass all day!"
"You have?"
"Yes!"
"When?"
"When your back was turned so I could see your ass!"
"Oh." He makes a sad puppy face. "I guess that makes sense."
"Believe me," Yuuri crawls over to him, cupping his pale face in his hand, "your sexy pants are doing everything you want them to."
"They are?"
"Yes."
"Do you like them?"
"They've been driving me crazy." Yuuri leans forward and kisses the pout right off his lips. Kissing is safe. Yuuri knows how to kiss.
Tonight, Viktor sighs contentedly as his lips fall open. His hand curls into Yuuri's hair, and the rest of the world fucks off somewhere else, and where that somewhere else is doesn't matter to Yuuri, because Viktor is kissing him.
All he can focus on is the heat percolating in his stomach and Viktor's lips.
They're so soft. So extraordinarily soft. And they taste like peppermint.
He feels the moment Viktor gives himself over completely. He presses closer. His mouth shifts, sliding against Yuuri's, both more compliant and more demanding.
Oh god yes.
Viktor's tongue swipes against his bottom lip, fanning the simmering heat in his gut into an instant blaze.
Followed immediately by a raking claw of dread.
"Hang on." He breaks away. Viktor lets go, his blue eyes searching Yuuri's face. Probably for clues as to why he's acting so fucking weird right now. "I want to use my question."
"Oh, fun!" He sits back and wiggles a little like he's getting settled. It's unendingly adorable. "Go ahead. I'm ready!"
"Umm, h-how many people have you slept with?"
"Oh, uhh." If Viktor thinks it's an odd question, he doesn't act like it. His eyes drift down in concentration, and he has to think for an upsettingly long time. Oh god. "Actually, never mind. I don't want to know."
"Yuuri—" he smiles, but Yuuri just buries his face in his hands.
"No, it's fine. I don't want to know."
"Are you jealous?"
"No." Actually, maybe a little, but primarily no. Just mortified.
But Viktor is laughing. "How many people have you slept with?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"It's okay, Yuuri. I'm not going to judge you if you've slept around."
"That's definitely not the issue."
"Wait. How many people have you slept with?" Yuuri regrets saying anything. He vows to never speak again. "Solnyshko?" He will not cave to the pet name. He will not.
"You already used your free question. Try again next week."
"Is it zero?"
"No!" He wrenches his hands down from his face and looks at his boyfriend, but Viktor's teasing smirk is gone.
He's just smiling softly, and he looks gentle and gooey, and Viktor. So Viktor.
"It's one." He admits.
"Okay, that's fine, Yuuri. There's nothing wrong with that. It would be fine if it was zero."
"A-and we only slept together twice. So… I don't know what I'm doing."
"That's also fine."
"I'm not going to be very good."
"Milly moy, I like you too much to want to judge you."
It's sort of hard for Yuuri to come up with an argument against his own logic. He wants to point out that can only apply to Viktor. Except he really has no grounds for believing that.
"Okay."
"We can take things slow."
"I don't want to take things slow. I want to do everything with you. Preferably once with my hands and then again with my mouth."
Viktor nods. "That would also be fine."
"I just… need you to tell me if it's terrible?"
"It won't be terrible. I promise we'll have fun."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"No, I know it'll be fun," he says flippantly. "I'll be with you. I always have fun with you." Yuuri's heart does a weird thing. It contracts like a fist slammed closed around it and then expands back out like a sponge, but in a single beat.
"You're a sap, Viktor Nikiforov."
"And you're hot, Katsuki Yuuri." His heart regains motion and starts thumping against his ribs. "But we do still have one problem."
"What?"
"I don't think you actually answered my question from earlier. What were you thinking about that made you blush?"
"Oh. Well." Yuuri takes a deep breath and just lets himself want. Viktor wants him to.
He hooks his hands behind the larger man and, with a swift pull, hoists him up into his lap. Viktor squeaks with shock, but it dissolves into a giggle. Yuuri's heart pounds harder. "I was thinking about you."
Viktor looks like a kid in a candy store, staring with rapt attention. It's giving Yuuri… inspiration.
He leans into the other man's ear, and hopes he's doing the whole sexy whisper thing right. "I was imagining dragging you into the supply closet at Ice Castle."
"There's a supply closet in Ice Castle? Where?"
"Maybe I'll tell you... if you're really good for me." He cringes. That wasn't supposed to come out that controlling.
He opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can, Viktor's nails dig into his back. "I can be good." His husky whisper promises everything.
Oh.
Oh.
Maybe this won't be so difficult after all.
***
Yuuri wakes up the next morning in Viktor's bed, comfortable but slightly embarrassed. They didn't even get their pants fully off last night. That didn't stop Yuuri from coming in his underwear—like a fumbling teenager—or from finishing Viktor off through his. Which was good, Viktor assured him.
It feels less good, though, now that he's awake in cold, early sunlight, with morning-after clarity, and Viktor's side of the bed pointedly empty.
Now Yuuri's just a man asleep in not-his-bed while his boyfriend hides away, probably planning how to break up with him. He bets Viktor's trying to figure out how to say it nicely, so it won't hurt his feelings.
Yuuri only has a moment to wallow in self-pity before the door flies open and Hurricane Viktor storms in. He has a mug in one hand and, inexplicably, a white-flowered dandelion in the other.
"Good, you're up! I took Makkachin for a walk this morning—I would have invited you, but you were still asleep. You were making this tiny snoring noise. It was so cute! But as I was putting her leash on, I realized, we forgot about talking to animals!"
"Uh. What?"
"When we made our list of superpowers! Ah, and this is for you, by the way." Viktor hands over the mug. It's hot to the touch and filled with steaming green tea.
"Thank you."
"And…" His blinding enthusiasm flickers, fading to a shy smile, "also this." He offers out the dandelion. "I wanted to get you real flowers, but I didn't know how to buy them in Japanese. But Mari said I could take this one from the yard. She said it's a weed, but I thought it was pretty."
"Th-thank you." Yuuri's brain is reeling as he looks down at the thin white petals. How has he never noticed how pretty dandelions are before now?
"I had fun last night."
"Me too." He admits, his stomach flopping around inside him like a dying fish. A hot fish. A hot, dying fish.
And he's definitely in trouble now, because he's pretty sure he's never been happier than he is in this moment. "But… how would talking to animals help with skating?"
"It wouldn't, but I could talk to Makkachin!"
Viktor's eyes glitter and look far too cute. He's just… He's such a dork.
"It wouldn't just be Makkachin," Yuuri points out. "You could talk to any dog."
Viktor gasps, "You're right! Think of how amazing that would be!"
"Yeah, pretty amazing."