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At night, the stars overhead always seemed to bathe Hasetsu in lights. The sleepy sea town was far enough from the cities that there was little to block out the sky, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile as it shone through his family’s dining room window. He hadn’t been here since he was eighteen, but the sight, especially after the neon signs and skyscrapers of Detroit, was one of the best reminders that he was home. The stars cast the same old brightness along the tatami mats, painted a diagonal of soft gray upon the walls, just the way they had when he’d left for America years ago.
But there was something different now, a new addition to the familiar scene who shone like the stars were hung just to illuminate him. Not in Yuuri’s childhood, or during all the time he’d spent longing for every detail of home, this home, had he imagined the current guest being part of this world. Viktor Nikiforov, arguably a gift from the skies themselves, lay at the Katsuki’s dining table, drifting in and out of sleep like a ship on the waves.
Realistically, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Viktor got tired - he was human after all, but it was an easy fact to forget after spending so long worshiping the man from afar. Even with him here in the flesh, it was easy to forget, especially since he never dropped the camera-ready charming persona. Yuuri took a sip of tea, smiling to himself. All of this was so hard to take in, everything about the last few weeks. Not only was Viktor here, but it was all because of him, somehow. He was the reason Viktor was asleep at his table. One of his old routines was playing on repeat on Viktor’s laptop, with notes and ideas for a free skate lying around them like a tablecloth.
They’d both been so excited about it that the hours had slipped away, and before Yuuri barely got to acknowledge how easy things felt between them for once, Viktor had put his head down against his arms, quickly asleep. At first, he’d rolled his eyes (so dramatic!), but it came as a welcome break. Now he had a chance to breathe again, to fully process the weight of the evening.
Yuuri couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this excited to work on his choreography, if he ever had, and Viktor, bless him, had seemed just as enthusiastic. Yuuri hadn’t been expecting for him to be so genuine about it. Given Viktor’s tendency for sleeping early, and the fact that he’d done little else but criticize Yuuri since his arrival, the glow in his eyes as they worked out ‘Should this be a toe loop or a flip’, ‘Would a combination be too much here?’ was a pleasant change of pace.
The past few hours they’d spent planning and strategizing had left him with an unfamiliar calm. For a rare moment in the short while he and Viktor had known each other, it actually felt like they were on the same page. Things felt natural, low stakes, when they weren’t surrounded by his family or the countless photographers that had followed his coach here. Viktor felt a little less an international celebrity like this, and more like someone who could be a friend. Even maybe more?
He stopped that train of thought before it took off. Not now…
Dishes! Dishes were something to focus on, and he ran the water as he gathered their cups, half hoping it would wake Viktor up.
Viktor twitched as his bangs drifted across the rest of his face, but that was all. As he scrubbed, Yuuri caught a glimpse of it and smiled, and in a second, his mind had wandered again.
They’d mostly been working, of course, but as the rest of the onsen had started to wind down for the night, the atmosphere had lightened, and quiet jokes and comments snuck into their discussions. For once, Viktor had gradually let slip the superstar air of bravado he’d been so careful to keep up since he’d arrived. There was nothing wrong with the act, of course - it felt like he’d just done it so long that it almost felt second-nature - and the smirking and empty flirtation was the certainly personality Yuuri was more used to, having seen it across tv and photographs for years. Yet, it hadn’t made it any easier to recognize him as anything other than a god. Gods were revered, worshiped, and he was more than used to that.
This Viktor, the one he was when he let his guard down, was different entirely. He felt more like an equal now, a person, and people weren’t worshiped.
But they were appreciated, humored.
They were-
They were loved.
Yuuri tried not to think about it, like he always did, but the truth wouldn’t let itself be denied anymore.
...Not that he full-out loved Viktor! Or at least, he wasn’t sure if he did. It was awfully soon to tell, and he still hadn’t entirely stopped seeing him as ‘Viktor Nikiforov, living legend’ so it was hard to determine anyway. Maybe if he ever stopped with the flirty showboating for more than an evening, Yuuri could sort out his feelings, but for now, he didn’t hold it against the man. Sometimes it felt like he didn’t know how to be seen anything else. But it didn’t stop Yuuri from adoring the rare moments of vulnerability he got. With the dishes clean, he focused on gathering their clutter from the table, definitely not focusing on the relaxed sound of Viktor’s exhales.
It was just that Viktor, person-Viktor, in addition to being beautiful and talented, was… so much more than that. He was sort of goofy, actually, not as intimidating as he was on camera, and a lot less sure of what he was doing than he tried to appear.
But mostly he was kind, in a way that had caught Yuuri off guard. Viktor had been critical since the day he arrived, enough that it was easy to get discouraged, but the proof was in front of him, worked to exhaustion, that Viktor really did want him to improve, was willing to sacrifice something (even if it was just a good night’s rest) to help Yuuri get there. It was probably rude of him to rob the man of any more; hunching over a wooden table couldn’t have been too comfortable. With a last fond smile, Yuuri finally admitted he’d been letting him sleep a little too long, tentatively reaching out to tug Viktor’s robe.
“Hey, it’s getting pretty late, huh?”
It did nothing to rouse him.
“Viktor c’mon, you should sleep in a real bed.” A light groan rolled past the man’s lips, and his eyelashes fluttered open more gracefully than they had any right to. His soft voice was dazed, as if he couldn’t quite believe the sight in front of him. “Yuuri?”
The plates in Yuuri’s arms hid just how red his face turned at just the one word, and he was thankful for them – it was embarrassing how easy he was to fluster. Tone was another of the countless things Viktor tried constantly to control about his persona, always speaking with the flirty lilt that felt more at home in interviews than on a real human being. But while it was gorgeous, Yuuri was realizing how much more he preferred this subdued, sleep-laden voice, even if it was only saying his name.
“Go to bed. I’ll clean up here.”
“Ohh no! I can-” Viktor moved to gather some of their things, but interrupted himself with a yawn. The arm he’d been using as a pillow hadn’t moved, and in seconds, he was asleep again. Yuuri would’ve sighed if it wasn’t so endearing to watch. Instead, he just shook his head, hurriedly wiping down the rest of the table.
“Viktor.” It was firm this time, and the shake of his arm wasn’t nearly as gentle.
Viktor jolted upright, needing a little longer to sort out his surroundings. “Yuuri, I can’t… I can’t even walk right now. I’m just- gonna…”
Honestly, this was just being dramatic! All things considered, it wasn’t even that late. Any trepidation Yuuri had had about placing hands on his idol had long-since faded at this point. At least, when it was for the man’s own good. He curled his arms tight under Viktor’s and pulled. “Up.”
For a second, Yuuri was afraid he’d have to drag him the entire way, stairs included, but after a fair bit of grumbling, he rose to his feet.
Viktor clung to him like a backpack, arms draped lazily over Yuuri’s shoulders as hot even breaths prickled his neck. The most important thing for Yuuri was keeping a tight grip around Viktor’s wrists, ignoring the way it made his pulse race to hold him that closely, and he hoped it wasn’t heavy enough that the hands on his chest could feel it. The embarrassment would’ve probably caused him to release Viktor’s hands, and he was pretty sure if he let go of him, the man wouldn’t even be able to even stand.
As they took the final steps up the stairs, Viktor’s legs shook, and he’d started mumbling in what was assumedly Russian, assumedly to himself.
Yuuri practically tossed him onto the bed, expecting that he’d let go and just collapse, but he cried out as he realized that wasn't the man's intention. On the plus side, the mattress was soft enough to break his fall, as the grip three off his center of gravity enough to send him toppling beside his friend, who was barely conscious enough to notice.
"Okay, well, goodnight," Yuuri hinted, pulling his shoulder away from where Viktor had flopped his head onto it. Aside from just generally wanting him to get some well-deserved rest, Yuuri also needed to leave to keep himself from exploding with excitement. Working on routines in his kitchen was already closer than he thought they’d ever be, but now he had curled up on Yuuri’s goddamn forearm so sweetly, and if he didn’t rouse Viktor with words, his pounding heartbeat probably would do the job for him.
His guest smiled, not comprehending and not moving. “Mmm, goodnight!”
“Viktor, come on, I-” Pulling away was the last thing he wanted - and this wasn't making it any easier. “I gotta go.”
“You're comfy.” By this point, he was mumbling, completely delirious; it would be a surprise if he remembered any of this come tomorrow, and the awkward morning conversation it would likely lead to was just another reason to go, or at least that he should go. “Nnh… You're always leaving. Don’t- don't do that. Don't leave agai…”
Wait, what did that mean? Yuuri tried to think of a time he’d left him in the first place, but couldn’t come up with even one. They’d only met a month or so ago; there hadn’t been a chance to ‘leave’ if, for whatever unfathomable reason, he’d ever wanted to.
Viktor was half-dreaming. It was the only conclusion, he decided, the only way to make sense of his babbling, but the insistence behind the cryptic words was enough to convince himself to pull off his glasses and adjust the blanket. This was Viktor, not just here, but more solid, more real than he ever had felt before, asking him to stay. Yuuri allowed himself to lay back fully, even going so far as to lean into the weight next to him. Sleep came easy.
Yuuri had fallen into a quick slumber when a half-hour later, the fingers curled around his arm started to twitch and prod, feeling out just what or who they'd been clinging to. The first thing he saw when he opened his groggy eyes was Viktor, smiling in realization.
"D- Did you carry me to bed?" It was the most coherent thing he'd said in the past hour. Yuuri snorted out a laugh, nodding.
"Yeah, you fell asleep at the table."
Viktor’s cheeks flushed, ashamed of himself. He was here to help Yuuri, not be taken care of, especially the one person he was here to impress! God, he must have come off as such a spoiled jerk! He hadn’t expected to be carried to bed, Viktor tried to vocalize, after years of living alone, it hadn’t even crossed his mind.
But all his sluggish brain could manage to say was “Ohh, so nice~”. It was for the best that Yuuri couldn’t see his face - his frown betrayed the playful words. “Sorry I made you do that.”
He accepted Viktor’s apology with ease. The parts about how soft and gentle the man had looked while he slept, how much he’d liked the weight on his shoulder, of course, were kept to himself. “You didn’t make me do anything. Sorry I made you stay up so late.”
“What? No, no apologizing for my faults.” No second spent around Yuuri was forced - did he genuinely not see that?
Yuuri took a last look at his surroundings. “I… guess I should go back to my room, huh?”
The hands that had never moved from his arm tightened, silently asking him to stay, please. It was so rare for Yuuri to get this close to him. Desperately, Viktor looked around for some reason he shouldn’t go. If he’d simply told the truth, that Yuuri was more than welcome to stay, he was pretty sure he would have been out the door in seconds, even if he dreaded every step. It didn’t make much sense to Viktor, but he was slowly learning, for better or worse, how Yuuri tended to react to different people. Often, that involved running when he got too nervous, so the man hoped he could find some way to offer his company gently. He found his answer at the foot of the bed, brown tail giving the occasional unconscious wag, and beamed. The poodle was definitely getting extra treats tomorrow.
“Nnh, but it’s so late. Plus, Makkachin’s already asleep.” Any movement would have woken him up, and they both knew it.
“That’s true…” Yuuri tried to hide his smile, but was secretly elated. Viktor’s bed was more comfortable than his own anyway, and of course, it was where Viktor was - enough of a reason on its own.
“‘Night, Yuuri.” He yawned, getting comfortable again. If he weren’t so tired, it might have occurred to him that being this close felt a lot less intimidating now - having those slender fingers against his shoulder seemed so much more natural, but the realization would have to wait until morning.
“Goodnight… Viktor,” Yuuri whispered. Both their eyes closed, for the last time until morning. ‘Good’ could hardly describe it.