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Yuri's really tired, now that they're done with the medal ceremony and the press room, but Victor knows he won't admit it.
Victor wants to sweep Yuri up in his arms and carry him to the hotel room. He wants to kiss him maybe fifty times, until Yuri is all pink and happy and soft with it. He wants to lie with Yuri on the shitty hotel bed and trap him in his arms until Yuri can't run away, can't do anything but let Victor kiss him and touch him and adore him. Even Victor can see what a terrible idea that would be.
He takes a deep breath in and moves carefully toward Yuri and Phichit. Yuri's eyes are feverishly bright, toffee-colored, and the color is high in his cheeks. Phichit is taking another selfie of them and -- incidentally -- holding Yuri steady so Yuri doesn't shake himself to pieces.
Victor stands a careful distance behind Yuri, close enough to be sensed but not so close that Yuri feels crowded, and waits until Phichit looks at him and smiles. "Hi, Victor!" he says. Phichit looks pretty manic too, but in a happy way: he's on the top of the world right now and he's going to do his best to stay there. "Selfie!"
"Sure!" says Victor, leaning close to them both, smiling big, looking happy. "Tag me in it!"
Phichit beams at him. "Thanks!" he says. Yuri sighs, but fondly. He even lets Phichit take the picture and tag them both in it. Phichit looks down at the picture lovingly, and then says, "Did you need something?"
"Oh, I was just hoping to steal Yuri for a little bit," Victor chirps. He meets Phichit's eyes, and doesn't look over at Yuri. Phichit lets his eyes slide over to Yuri and then back at Victor.
"Awww," says Phichit. "If you have to!" He pats Yuri very gently on the back and turns toward Victor. "Bring him back safe!"
He's smiling, but Victor gets the idea.
"Of course!" he says, and puts his hand gently on Yuri's back to draw him away.
"Where are we going?" says Yuri. Now that Victor is touching him, he can really feel the fine tremors shaking Yuri's frame. Victor is a piece of shit to have caused this. No - maybe he didn't cause this. But he made this worse.
"A hot shower," says Victor. "Coach's orders!"
Yuri looks up at him, his black lashes shading his eyes just enough to make them unreadable. Does Yuri want kissed now? Should Victor have said that? It's too late to take it back. "And after that?" His voice dips low, and Victor feels crinkles up and down his spine. It's an effort not to take the kiss sitting in the corner of Yuri's mouth, but Victor takes a deep breath in and pulls off his coat to drape over Yuri's shoulders.
"We'll see," says Victor.
Yuri's wound as tight as a spring all through the cab ride back to the hotel. He leans close to Victor, not quite touching him. Victor puts his hand on Yuri's knee, grounding, but keeps his distance until they get out. He wants to sweep Yuri up, carry him on his hip or in his arms and let Yuri put his face against Victor's shoulder, but he's terrified of being too much again. Still. He puts his hand on the small of Yuri's back and guides him to the elevator. Yuri's almost swaying on his feet, and Victor can tell he's begun to over think things again.
"My poor bunny," says Victor, in Russian, caressingly, "Little cutlet, you must be so tired."
Yuri blinks up at him. Victor knows he knows some Russian, but it's clear he's too tired to really parse it. "Hmm?"
"Nothing, just talking to myself," says Victor. "It's too bad your room doesn't have a bath, but there should be plenty of hot water."
Yuri hums in response. "A shower sounds nice," he says. "Then we - then I could - " he hesitates, and bites his lip. (Victor tries not to die.) He slants a look up at Victor. "We could?"
"We could," says Victor, diplomatically. He gives in and bumps his nose against Yuri's temple. It's slightly tacky with sweat. Yuri smells terrible. He's so lovely. It's true, Victor loves him so much it frightens him. "Let's get you in the shower first."
"Okay," says Yuri, and then has to stifle a yawn. He turns pink under the hectic flush of exhaustion burning on his cheeks. Victor doesn't say anything about it, just gets him the rest of the way to his room and pointed toward the bathroom.
"I'll get your clothes," says Victor. Yuri goes trustingly into the bathroom, and after a minute, Victor hears the water turn on. Instead of the pants and dress shirt that Yuri probably thinks that Victor is going to get him, Victor unzips the top pocket of Yuri's suitcase, where Mama had quietly packed Yuri's softest, oldest shirt and pajama pants, and a pair of thick woolly socks. The shirt has some anime character on it that Victor vaguely recognizes from stationary, and the pants are just soft old knit cotton. They smell like the laundry detergent from home.
Victor waits a few minutes, to give Yuri time to wash up and for the shower stall to steam up enough to preserve Yuri's modesty, and then taps on the bathroom door. There's no answer, so Victor opens it and says, "Yuri?"
Still no answer, and Victor sticks his head in further to see Yuri sitting in a heap in the shower stall. His head is tilted against the wall. He's obviously asleep, or nearly asleep.
"My poor darling," says Victor. He steps inside and strips off his suit jacket -- and, after a moment's thought, his shirt too, leaving him in his undershirt and suit pants. He toes off his loafers and pulls off his socks, and goes to the shower stall. "Yuri, darling, time to get up."
"Victor?" says Yuri, slurring his words. "Victor ..."
"Yes, precious?" says Victor. It almost hurts, being this full of love. He's afraid he's going to burst, but he doesn't want to let go of a single drop of it.
He picks up a towel and opens the shower stall, and turns off the water slowly, so the change isn't such a shock to Yuri. He's glad the hotel's towels are so big, big enough to cover Yuri's back and torso when he drapes it over him. He coaxes Yuri to his feet and reaches for another towel to cover his head. Yuri's hand reaches out and wraps around Victor's shirt.
"Oh," says Yuri, blinking up at him. His eyelashes are all clumped up with water and his eyes are not quite focused, between the exhaustion and not wearing his glasses. "Oh, it's really Victor."
Victor pulls him gently out of the shower stall and pats his skin dry. He regrets bitterly that he agreed to stay in a separate room. He's got lotion and skin milk and creams in his luggage that he could be putting on Yuri's poor skin right now, but he can't run to his room and get it without leaving Yuri. "Was that in doubt?"
"Thought it was a dream again," sighs Yuri, leaning his head against Victor's chest. "Don't let me wake up, okay?"
,
Victor doesn't know how it's possible to be so happy but have his heart ache so much. "No, darling," he says. "You're not asleep."
He puts one arm around Yuri to help him balance and reaches for the bottle of hotel lotion with the other. It's better than nothing. He hesitates for a second, and then gives in to his baser impulses and just swings Yuri up into his arms, a bundle of everything Victor loves most, wrapped up in terrycloth. Yuri's so tired he just lets his head rest, heavy and sweet, against Victor's shoulder. Victor takes a deep breath in. Yuri smells like the cheap shampoo the hotel supplies and just - Yuri-like. Victor carries him to the bed and lays him on the bed so he can gloat over him.
He smooths the lotion over Yuri's arms and legs, quickly as he dares; Yuri's skin is so sweet to touch that he's tempted to linger. Later, he promises himself. Later he'll touch every dear centimeter of Yuri's skin and rub lotion on it. He'll make Yuri feel so good. But for now he puts Yuri's underwear and pajama pants on around his ankles and swings Yuri's legs to the side of the bed, so Victor can pull his pants up and encourage him to stand up, just for a second. Yuri makes a low, grumpy sound but he lets Victor pull his pants up to his waist and swing his feet back up on the bed. It's hard to convince Yuri to take his hands off Victor's shirt long enough to get his arms through the shirt and pull it down.
Then, when he does, Yuri's arms go around Victor's neck and he tries to pull him down with him onto the bed.
Victor can't help it, he has to kiss Yuri's nose and the round parts of his cheeks. He thinks he might die if he doesn't drop two or three kisses each on Yuri's eyelids. When he pulls away Yuri just clings tighter. "No," Yuri mumbles. "Come back."
"Sweetheart, I have to take care of your feet," says Victor, trying to escape Yuri's clinging hands.
"No," says Yuri. He puts his arms around Victor, hands under his shirt, and cuddles up, putting his head against Victor's sternum with a long, satisfied sigh.
Victor knows when he's been beat.