Work Text:
The fact that Yuuri is so adorable when sleeping really shouldn’t come as such a surprise to Victor. And yet it still does. He supposes it makes sense; if Yuuri is adorable every waking moment of every day, it would only make sense that he is adorable during non-waking hours too.
Right now, Yuuri is sleeping against Victor, his knees brought up to his chest and tucked securely under the big warm sweater Yuuri is wearing. It’s how Victor had first found him upon entering the livingroom. He had been curled up into a ball, leaning against the side of the couch looking ready to fall asleep if not for the subtle chills wracking his body. Without a word, Victor had taken a spot next to Yuuri and guided the younger man to lean against him instead. It had not taken long for Yuuri to drift off, especially with one of Victor’s arms wrapped snugly around his back, his hand running through Yuuri’s hair.
The rhythmic sound of Yuuri’s deep breathing is soothing, peaceful like a lullaby that almost makes Victor contemplate taking a nap of his own. Instead, he contents himself with taking in every detail of Yuuri’s face.
His mouth is open in a petit little o shape as he sleeps, unable to breathe through his nose thanks to the congestion courtesy of this steadily oncoming cold. His lips are chapped in the way that they always are when Yuuri gets ill, and Victor smiles at the thought of having to applying more lip balm for Yuuri once he wakes up.
Next Victor admires Yuuri’s nose. It’s so tiny and so cute, absolutely perfect for whenever Victor wants to drop kisses to it. He resists the urge now as it looks red and irritated, rubbed raw from all of the times Yuuri has blown his nose. Yuuri’s cheeks are red too, dusted with a soft blush that Victor can only assume is from his fever.
The poor thing. Yuuri has been coming down with a cold for the past couple of days, but it really only hit this morning. He’s been miserably congested, complaining about a headache, and is currently trembling with chills as he leans against Victor.
Soothingly, Victor continues to run his hand through Yuuri’s hair. The strands are thick yet so soft and smooth between his fingers, and Victor has no doubts it’s because of the products he’s gotten Yuuri to use. He recognizes the scent, the smell so much better coming off of Yuuri.
Victor has always loved Yuuri’s hair. He loves tending to it, styling it for competitions, working through tangles before they sleep as a nightly ritual. He’s even had the honour of giving it a trim when the strands get too long. Yuuri’s hair certainly is long now, though he has made no comment about wanting to get it cut. Victor has no real preference either way; he would love Yuuri with long hair or short hair or even none at all. At the length it is now, his bangs just barely dip into his eyes, curtaining them in an almost mysterious way that can be very sexy at times. On the other hand, Victor could never be opposed to having a better view of those gorgeous brown eyes.
He sadly doesn’t have that view now, as Yuuri’s eyes remained closed. Though that leaves Victor to admire Yuuri’s eyelashes, the fine hairs so long and dark. Victor could spend all day staring at them, counting each individual lash, simply worshipping the beautyーthe craftsmanshipーof the body that Victor is lucky enough to have as his own.
In the midst of Victor’s revenant observations, one thing he can’t help but notice is that Yuuri is still wearing his glasses. They sit high on the bridge of that perfect little nose, the arms securely in place behind Yuuri’s ears. Victor knows from past experiences of Yuuri telling him that falling asleep while wearing glasses is uncomfortable. It also poses the risk of bending the frames, a problem that Yuuri swears is worse than no other.
Yuuri shouldn’t be wearing his glasses while he sleeps, but Victor doesn’t want to wake him. So naturally, the only option is for Victor to remove them without disturbing the sleeping skater.
Since one of Victor’s arms is wedged between Yuuri’s back and the couch, he decides that the logical course of action would be to use his free hand. The hand in Yuuri’s hair continues its gentle ministrations, the steady rise and fall of Yuuri’s chest unchanging. As subtle as Victor can without shifting positions, he keeps his eyes trained on Yuuri’s serene expression and brings his hand in front of Yuuri’s face.
Victor didn’t give much thought to how difficult this otherwise simple task would be with only one hand; he can’t just pull from the bridge of Yuuri’s glasses, because the arms which are hooked on the back of his ear will prevent the frames from coming off. And if Victor pulls too hard, he’ll wake Yuuri, which is the opposite of what he wants.
Carefully, he takes one of the the arms of Yuuri’s glasses and lifts it, pulling it forward just a bit so it’s no longer hooked over Yuuri’s ear. The next arm is harder, as it rests between his and Yuuri’s body, but luckily Victor still manages to repeat the process with Yuuri remaining asleep. Now, the glasses rest on the very tip of Yuuri’s nose, no longer hooked over Yuuri’s ears. Slowly, carefully, Victor takes the bridge of Yuuri’s blue frames between his thumb and pointer finger and pulls.
Yuuri’s eyebrows furrow slightly, his closed eyelids twitching.
Victor freezes and holds his breath, not daring to move or even breathe. His eyes remain fixed on Yuuri’s expression, waiting for the moment when those brown eyes blink open.
The moment doesn’t come, and after a solid count to thirty, Victor moves again. He drags the glasses off of Yuuri’s face, painfully slow, bit by bit, until finally they are dangling from his hand.
Victor grins to himself as he treasures his trophy, triumphantly holding it up. He fumbles one handedly to fold the frames, then sets them down on the arm of the couch, safe and away from any possibility of being bent.
When he casts a look down where Yuuri’s head rests, Victor is pleased to find him still sleeping soundly. A part of him deflates with relief, proud he was able to successfully pull off such a difficult maneuver. And now he gets to take pleasure in his reward for such a trying task.
As Victor returns to his earlier position, Yuuri mumbles incoherently and nuzzles into Victor’s chest. He gives a relaxed sigh, and Victor can’t help but smile fondly; it’s as if Yuuri knows he can comfortably smush his face against Victor now that he’s no longer wearing his glasses.
“I love you, Yuuri,” Victor murmurs softly so as not to wake him. Yuuri doesn’t verbally say anything back, but the way his breathing becomes just a bit louderーas if he has slipped even deeper into sleepーis a good enough response for Victor. His heart flutters as it’s filled with overflowing adoration, and he happily contents himself to spending the next couple of hours on the livingroom couch, supporting a sick and sleeping Yuuri in his arms.