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Viktor was born to crisscross the globe, hunt for hidden treasure, earn fame and recognition and glory and freedom; it was all Viktor longed for. Since the age of fifteen, he gave and gave and gave only taking what he needed and stealing what wasn’t his. It wasn’t a charming life, fame only brought you so much money before you invested it all in travelling and gear.
Treasure hunting was in his blood.
The gold melted through his skin, the euphoric feeling of finding something old and hidden fueled him, propelled him down a tunnel with no end and Viktor kept going and going and going. There was no stopping him, in his heart was a hole that could not be filled with gold or satisfaction. Every time he unearthed an artifact or prevented the world from ending, he was high off the adrenaline rush that it provided like it was a drug. Like fool's gold, however, it was fake and useless; the void of greed in his still beating red heart refused to be filled. Family, friends, love……..he had given it all up for something greater: Legacy.
He wanted to be remembered after he died, he wanted his name printed in books. Viktor embraced the idea of becoming the World’s Best Treasure hunter with open arms, he loved the idea of being something more than some runaway brat.
Yakov called him a reckless idiot, Yuri just called him an idiot. (Lilia, god bless her cold and icy dead heart, called him Vitya.)
But Yuuri, his darling (self-sacrificing, determined, stubborn, gorgeous) Yuuri, called him a thief. Matter in fact, he still called him that to his face without an ounce of regret in his eyes. It didn’t matter where Viktor went or how remote the location was, Yuuri was always there---hot on his heels even though the younger man disagreed vehemently when Viktor teasingly accused him of stalking him.
The young archaeologist hadn’t taken kindly to Viktor ever since the day he barged into his workplace and asked (nicely, mind you) to borrow a document. Yuuri, clearly unimpressed when Viktor tried to seduce him with the Nikiforov charm, kicked him out without a moment's hesitation. Turns out when you steal a bunch of priceless artifacts, it gets you a shitty rep with the academic folk. Who knew?
Of course, Viktor stole what he needed but not before stealing a kiss from the flustered historian before gently placing the stripe of duck tape over his mouth and slipping away into the night like some phantom.
(Of course, Viktor left him his number because honestly, Viktor had no idea what to do after kissing a man he had just met.)
And of course, it didn’t end there like he expected it to.
It took Yuuri only two days to track him down, another three days following Viktor around on a crazy treasure hunt and only one to leave Viktor in the dust once he got his map back from him.
And thus began their long and drawn out feud that made treasure hunting more than just an exotic hobby.
Of all the gold in the world, Yuuri was far more valuable to him. He ignited the spark in Viktor, the determined inferno that had been snuffed out had come back as a roaring wildfire when they crossed paths. Viktor no longer cared about treasure, strange considering that he was a treasure hunter. With Yuuri by his side, he felt invisible, unstable, powerful.
(He felt alive for the first time in a long time.)
Today, as the overbearing sun of the Gobi barred down on him, was no exception. His blood was practically singing as he watched Yuuri fight off a bunch of mercenaries for him.
“Watch out!” Yuuri called out, he hurled the knife in his hand letting the blade slice through the air and into the shoulder of the mercenary behind Viktor.
“Thank you, darling!” Viktor blew a kiss in his direction before punching another mercenary in the face.
He was hot, he was tired, and he was sweaty. His hair was starting to frizz due to the heat leaving him with unruly silver hair. Viktor always made it a point to look his best. You never knew when your crush would appear trying to kill you over a priceless artifact or another stolen map. Sometimes he wondered who would kill him first: Yuuri Katsuki or the countless number of mercenaries sent his way?
Yuuri brought his hands in close to his chest, lifting his leg high up in the air in a powerful kick that sent a man flying across the tomb they were in. God, Viktor could stare at Yuuri flexing those gorgeous thighs of his. The man was built like a work of art, a never-ending sea of surprises that had Viktor dumbfounded with Every lungful of air. (Matter in fact, he couldn’t count the numerous amount of tunes he imagined himself between those very thighs.)
“Viktor, will you pay attention?!” Yuuri growled. He grabbed him by his shoulder pulling him out of the way as he reached out, grasping the barbell of the gun, grunting as he pushed it upwards.
Yuuri wrestled the gun away, spinning around, landing a solid kick to the unknown mercenary’s throat.
“Oh? We’re on a first name basis now, Yuuri?” Viktor swore he saw Yuuri turn even redder.
“How did you manage to survive without dying for this long?” He snaps. “Now I understand why Yakov is bald.”
Viktor throws back his head, laughing as he cut through two more men with practised ease. “I can’t help it, darling. You’re just so distracting.”
Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Focus, Nikiforov.”
A punch to the gut, followed by a duck. Viktor felt the serrated knife close to his skin, the cold edge of the blade providing some relief from the desert heat. He blocked the stab aimed to his heart, twisting the merc’s arm till his padded knee pads hit the sand. It didn’t take long for him to knock him out with the butt of the knife. An uppercut and jab to the gut followed by a well-aimed kick to the shin. It’s almost too easy.
He turns around, calling out Yuuri’s name.
Yuuri was in the middle of a three-way standoff. Viktor stood back, taking in the view when Yuuri lashed out, a snarl ripping through the air as he viciously leaps into the air, his boot making contact with one of the merc’s faces. Viktor winces as he goes down, the gushing blood from his nose mingling with the hot sand, turning into scarlet lumps upon impact.
The second merc wasn’t so shy with making the first move. He places two well-placed jabs to the face, past Yuuri’s careful defences and he goes down, dust sputtering around him upon impact. Yuuri gets up as quickly as he falls down and spits out blood, his eyes glaring holes into him as he gets into a fighting stance.
The third merc teams up with the second one, the glint of the knife almost threatening.
Almost.
Yuuri Katsuki was as dangerous as he was lovely, with his fists clenched tight and his angry gaze, nobody could look away. For a man who moved with a dancers lithe build, he was brutal with his attacks. If anybody told Viktor that Yuuri was a fighter, he’d balk and then tilt his head back to laugh. With the bookish blue glasses out of the way, his hair slicked back, and his lips chapped and bloody due to the heat----one would blink like an owl and ask: Is that really Katuski?
Viktor certainly did the first time he met him.
There was no doubt that Yuuri was captivating, even if the young historian didn’t see it, he had Viktor by his throat and his heart.
“C’mon, Yuuri! You got this, darling!” He called from the sideline, waving his hand and jumping like a cheerleader. “I believe in you!”
“Viktor, stop!” Yuuri mutterers loudly. Even if blood was dripping from the corner of his lip and his eyes looked like hardened steel, Viktor still swooned like a heroine out of a trashy romance. He sank down to his knees, an excited look on his face as Yuuri kicked the ever loving crap out of the two mercenaries. It was a flurry of well-placed jabs and kicks, and by the time the dust had literally settled around them, Yuuri emerged with bloody fists and an equally bloody face, victorious.
And then his amber gaze settles on Viktor.
The air still in the dry, dimly lit cave, it was as if the desert sun had suddenly blacked out leaving behind a lingering feeling of warmth.
Viktor feels his smile turn diamond hard, his lips stretched over her teeth to the point where he felt strained. Inside, dread threatens to swallow him up when Yuuri rolls his shoulders back. He follows the trail of blood as it stains the front of his white shirt that stuck to his skin like a second skin. Sweat, blood, and dirt marred the otherwise fine fabric.
As Viktor knew, Yuuri was with him until up to the end.
And this was the end of their current adventure.
No matter where Viktor went or how remote his location was, Yuuri was always there with him. Some called it fate, Viktor called it bad luck.
How were you suppose to fight the person you trusted the most?
One had to steele their heart and build up their resolve. Every moment spent with Yuuri running away from mercenaries and greedy rich brats was borrowed time; it didn’t matter how much they flirted, it didn’t matter how much they saved each other from constant death, it didn’t matter how much they bickered like a married couple lost in the countryside, it didn’t matter how they solved ancient puzzles and uncovered priceless artifacts-----by the end of the adventure, they were always enemies again because that was the way it was between them.
Viktor hated it. He loathed destiny for bringing them together like this only to tear them apart immediately after.
Yuuri was the plucky but clever archaeologist and Viktor was the witty but dangerous treasure hunter. They were like fire and ice, yin and yang, sun and rain, water and oil and thousands of other things that’s main focus in life was to repel against each other. Except they didn’t really repel each other. Viktor was always pulled in by Yuuri no matter how much the latter disagreed.
“Ah,” Viktor heard himself say, his voice was hollow and disjointed to his own ears. He stood up, dusting the sand off his pants. “It’s time then, Yuuri?”
“The emerald, Viktor,” Yuuri said. He stood straight, his eyes hard. Viktor winced at the lack of warmth in those gorgeous dark eyes of his. “You know I can’t let you leave with it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Yuuri,” He said as he placed a protective arm over the knapsack. “Are you really going to fight me, darling?”
“Stop calling me that!” Yuuri hisses. Every step he took towards Viktor was a step closer to the inevitable. Viktor knew it, Yuuri knew it, and the ghosts in the lingering tombs below knew it. “You know the answer to that, Nikiforov. We’ll always come back here. It’s just how things are. I’m sorry. Just make this easier and give me the emperor's emerald.”
“Well,” Viktor shrugs, slipping back into his persona with ease. The infuriatingly smug smile makes its way onto his face and he notices the way Yuuri stares at his lips. “If you want the emerald headpiece then come and get it, Katsuki.”
Viktor doesn’t remember who threw the first punch, he just remembers a blur of fists and pain. The only ones to witness their little spat is the unconscious bodies of the merc’s littered at their feet like flower petals and the figures engraved on the walls, their stony eyes watch as they tear each apart other over conflicting ideologies and a piece of precious metal.
Yuuri does not win this fight.
Viktor ends it when he hesitates for just a fraction of a second, he wrestles the knife out of his hands and knocks him unconscious with the butt of it before he can place the killing blow directed towards his heart.
It leaves him feeling sick, awful, and guilt-ridden when he carries Yuuri out of the tomb and leaves him in a local village, the village doctor assures that he’ll take care of the wounds. He pressed a few notes in his hand just in case before hitching a ride back to Shanghai on a fruit truck. Desperately he tries not to think of Yuuri but he succumbs to his feelings, remorse crests over him like the tumultuous waves of the Baltic Sea.
(If Yakov or Lilia saw him now, they’d call him pathetic. And they’re right. There’s no room for feelings or sentiment in this line of work, he was a treasure hunter.)
The emerald was safely away in his briefcase when he boards the plane but it doesn’t feel like a victory. He glares at his hands wrapped up in gauze, with every flex of his fingers he feels the skin burn underneath. It’s a bloody visceral reminder that causes his hands to tremble in anger, his fists turn white as scarlet patches adorn the white bandages like flowers.
It feels like a hollow defeat.
The next time he sees Yuuri again is when he’s in Paris.
A crowded bar with drunk college students was the least likely place he would think to find Yuuri, he didn’t seem the type to indulge in alcohol but Viktor was glad to be proven wrong when Yuuri buys them two shots. He slides into the booth right next to Viktor as he fixes him with the same unimpressed look.
Viktor doesn’t mean to stare but fuck Yuuri looks good in black jeans that stick to his curves like a second skin and a crisp button-down with gold buttons that screams out more than just having a fun night at the bar. Viktor feels his throat go dry at the sight. He was assuming, and maybe it was the alcohol talking, but Yuuri looked like a man who was out to get what he wanted.
“What have I done now, darling?” Viktor asked, picking up the shot glass and tilting his head back. He feels a little braver as the tequila burns down his throat and warms his chest. “Are you here to stop me again?” He didn’t mean to sound so bitter. It was never so simple for either of them. Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Why are you really here?”
Yuuri doesn’t look at him directly, he lowers his gaze staring at the shot glass in his hand. Viktor notices that he still hasn’t touched it since the moment he sat down.
“Two men behind you,” He says casually, his finger tracing the rim of the glass with disinterest. Viktor swears if this is his way of a joke he wasn’t very funny but sadly, as usual, Yuuri is right, there are indeed two very intimidating men glancing at Viktor. He doesn’t need to guess who sent him but their presence was enough; Anatoli Ignatov was looking for him and Yuuri. “They’ve been staring at you for the past two hours.”
“Ah, Anatoly. I see he’s still mad at us about Montreal.”
Yuuri shoots him another unimpressed look that he shook off easily.
“They’ve been trailing you for days. I’m surprised, they found you before me.” Yuuri said, a hint of jealousy coating his words. “Usually that’s my job.”
Viktor isn’t certain if he heard Yuuri right, the last few words were so quiet that they were practically air.
“Yuuri, darling,” Viktor huffs, blowing a loose strand away from his face. “As much as I love talking to you, can you tell me why you’re here?”
Yuuri looks up at him for the first time since their conversation started and Viktor feels his heart freeze over with the feeling unfamiliar to him and the voice in his head goes ‘oh no, he’s gorgeous.’ His eyes are liquid, soft and mellow like in the low light of the bar. Viktor marvels at the gold flecks in his eyes that bring him under his spell. The last time Viktor had gazed into his eyes like this, they were in China and it didn’t end well. Viktor could still feel the scar of his back, a reminder and warning to not let down his defence around Yuuri.
(If Viktor was to raise the material of his shirt, he’d expose a small cut on his side that extended from his hip. He wasn’t the only one with a scar, some were from Yuuri while others were from the countless people he’s pissed off. Yuuri had his fair share of scars and what Viktor would do to see all of them.)
“I need your help,” He finally says. Yuuri breaks eye contact. Viktor felt just a bit hazy, the alcohol leaving him heady and warm. Usually, it was the other way around with them. Viktor is the one that asks Yuuri for his help instead. Most of the time it’s a split second decision because who else is he supposed to turn to? Anatoly Ignatov’s mercs? Yakov?
“Come again?” Viktor notices the red that dusts over his nose, travelling up into the soft flush of his cheeks. He follows it without meaning to. If he was oblivious or ignorant of the way Yuuri affected him by his mere presence, Viktor would have naturally assumed that he was developing an arrhythmia.
Yuuri makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. He lifts up the shot glass, dipping it towards Viktor as if to say cheers before tipping it back quickly. Viktor watches the bob of his adam's apple, tempted to reach out and sink his teeth into the pale skin. It’s just one of the many urges that Victor is used to suppressing, he has a better chance of killing Anatoly rather than bedding Yuuri Katsuki. Disappoint is nothing new to him but then again love and all these warm and disgustingly mushy feelings are. If Yuri ever saw him he’d laugh and cry out: “How the mighty have fallen?
The glass slams down onto the counter with force causing Viktor to jump. It’s a miracle that it doesn’t shatter upon impact. Whatever vulnerability lingered in his eyes was gone with the vodka, those same bloodthirsty eyes that looked more like cut glass stared at him across the table. Viktor shifted uncomfortably, Yuuri didn’t throw a single biting remark to bait Viktor into another argument.
“Three night ago, someone broke into the archive building and stole a map that I was restoring,” Yuuri said. He stares solemnly at his glass. “Anatoly is looking for us. He needed me to find some artifact. I escaped before he could find me.”
“And…..you want to find it first?” Viktor raised his eyebrow. “Unusually bold of you, Yuuri. I thought you didn’t approve of stealing things. What happened to protecting history?”
“No. I mean, yes! No, it’s---ugh!” Yuuri took a deep breath in and out. “It’s complicated. Look, I have a copy of the map. I could have hired somebody---anybody--- but I don’t know who’s working for Anatoly so I’m not going to risk it. You won’t believe this but guess what? I came and found you instead.” He lowers his voice “Viktor…...I don’t have anyone else I can trust besides you. So could please stopping being an ass and help me out?”
Viktor could’ve easily said no because but then he remembered the last time he and Anatoly met. It was dark, there were a lot of bullets, and Viktor walked out beaten within an inch of his life. It didn’t matter when Lilia screamed when she found him or how Yakov lectured him for days about being less reckless, he’d won. Anatoly still lingered on that loss and he was desperate to get one over Viktor. Good, the more frazzled he was the more mistakes he made. Viktor didn’t become the world's best treasure hunter because of his charming smile and his disposition.
And why would he ever say no to Yuuri? He could’ve left Viktor to his fate. Why should it matter to Yuuri if Viktor gets captured by Anatoly?
(Maybe he likes you too, a traitorous part of his minds sings.) Viktor shakes his head to clear his head. No, he was not doing this now.
“You could ask nicely,” He said, jutting his lower lips out in a well-practised pout. “What’s the magic word, darling?”
“Oh my god. You. Are. Insufferable.” Yuuri groans into his hands. He looks very close to contemplating murder. “Viktor Nikiforov, will you please help me stop Anatoly Ignatov from taking a priceless artifact and selling it on the black market? As well as help me not get fired from my job because I lost a priceless artifact? Again.”
Viktor beams brightly, revelling in the sound of his name from Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri could be calling him an idiot and Viktor would still be listening with a ridiculous smile on his face.
“Yuuri Katsuki, you are full of surprises.” He winks because why not, he has nothing left to lose but his head. At this point, he’d do anything to see him blush. “And we’re gonna kick Anatoly’s ass all the way back to Russia. Deal?”
“Deal,” Yuuri glanced behind him. He stands up, offering his hand to him. “We need to run. Now.”
Viktor takes his hand, drink and thoughts about Anatoly forgotten. “I assume you have an exit plan.”
“Of course I do.” He rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around his waist in order to keep Viktor from falling over. “You’re drunk, how far is your hotel?”
Viktor smiles and wraps his arm around Yuuri’s waist, allowing himself to lean into Yuuri’s warm touch.
“You know, I wait until at least the third date to invite men into my room.”
“Viktor, not the time.”
“I know, darling.” He smirks, ruffling Yuuri’s hair playfully. “You know I can’t help but to tease you.”
“Hopeless,” Yuuri said, tightening his grip around his waist. “Let’s just get out of here. We have a flight to catch and the last thing either of us needs is to meet Anatoly.”
From the corner of his eye, Viktor can see the two men stand up as they snake through the busy bar and into the street. It doesn’t take the both of them to lose Anatoly's men and disappear into the winding streets of Paris.
By the morning, they’re long gone.
Cambodia is unbearably hot in May.
Sweat sticks to the back if his neck and the mosquitoes are designed by the devil himself to suck the life out of Viktor. He’s hot and he wonders if this is what hell must feel like on a good day.
Their trek through the jungle takes days. Anatoly, Mr. I’m-too-good-for-everything, had sent his mercs after Viktor and Yuuri. Of course, a man who had millions to his name and a hand in the ever-growing black market
Yuuri was smarter though, unlike those brutes with guns, he actually knew what he was doing as he guided them through the jungle. It was a race against time and the both of them were determined to win, giving up wasn’t in either their vocabularies.
But of course, it didn’t matter because Viktor knew that they were on borrowed time once again. They were like two binary stars circling each other, if neither of them was careful they’d crash and burn with an intensity that would take out everything around them. What Viktor craved and what Viktor needed were two different things in the person next to him.
His back facing Viktor. He wasn’t asleep though and Viktor knew that he was just staring at the flimsy wall of his tent with half-lidded exhausted eyes and an unreadable expression on his face. Yuuri let out an annoyed huff and turned onto his side.
He said, “I can’t sleep.”
The light from the lantern illuminated Yuuri’s face, dancing over the bridge of his nose and the angles of his cheekbones. His eyes are like glass smoothed over by the sea; soft and glowing.
He loves these moments in between all the chasing and action where the both of them could take a moment to talk. Yuuri wasn’t always cold to him; there was no snark or anger or bitterness----just a sense of trust that couldn’t be expressed through words. There were moments where he’d open the doors to his mind for the briefest of moments, emotions sprawled across his face like words for Viktor to read. Now, in this hot tent in the middle of an unforgiving jungle, Yuuri looked at him with such a vulnerable expression that caused something to twist painfully in his ribcage. Viktor wanted to so badly reach out and run his fingers across the worried lines of his face but he wrapped his arms around himself tighter, his fingernails digging into his skin leaving angry red bruise like creases behind. He reminded himself like he always did, it didn’t matter. Yuuri was only his until the end and then they went back to how they were.
“Are you nervous?” He asked carefully. “You look pale.”
“No, not really,” Yuuri said. “I’m just thinking. It’s nothing.”
Viktor unfurls his hands, reaching out to push the sweaty strands out of Yuuri’s face. His skin is warm to the touch, it was humid here and he felt like he was melting from the inside out but he welcomed the touch of Yuuri’s skin against his fingertips. To his surprise, Yuuri doesn’t pull away. He just stares back with slightly widened eyes, an unfamiliar emotion painted across his face. The carefully made mask that Viktor sported drops in seconds and he lets it shatter between them, the shards cut into the soft muscle of his heart. Every beat feels like sweet agony.
He gently cups his face, his fingers lost in the ink like strands of hair. Viktor felt a familiar ache of want that curled around his thoughts, setting them on fire as he wished that he could hold Yuuri like this forever. The pad of his thumb presses across the dark circles that hand under Yuuri’s eyes wishing that they would disappear. It feels like he’s stepped into a maze; he’s lost and confused and scared but somewhere in that confusion is a sense of determination that can’t be quelled. Viktor knows exactly what he wants but he doesn’t know if he can achieve it.
He hates it. He hates it so much.
Why can’t things ever be simple for just once in his life?
The line they’ve drawn is blurred, it always has been. Neither of them is willing to admit it; Viktor out of respect for Yuuri and Yuuri out of his own sheer stubbornness but they’re naturally drawn together like magnets. What they have between them is something unique and special, something you only experience once in your lifetime. Viktor would do anything to hold onto it.
It is an unspoken agreement but God, Viktor is so tired of it.
Yuuri leans in just a bit. He presses his forehead against his bare shoulder, his eyelashes kissing Viktor’s skin and moves no further. A sound dies in the back of Viktor’s throat when Yuuri’s fingers caress his face in an almost hypnotic manner, he feels the light drag of nails down his scalp when he dips into his hair.
“Goodnight, Viktor.” He whispers, so quiet that it’s lost to the jungle around them. “Sleep well.”
Viktor lets his eyes close, feeling light.
“Goodnight, darling.”
Viktor could feel every small puff of warm air tickled his neck and the slight flutter of his lashes against his skin, he doesn’t dare move even. Even while asleep, Yuuri was calling out to him. Viktor didn’t know how either of them would survive this adventure. (Who was willing to crash and burn first? Sweet but snarky Katsuki Yuuri or spunky yet arrogant Viktor Nikiforov?)
He didn’t remember falling asleep. He doesn’t remember dreaming either. Viktor wakes up without Yuuri next to him, a part of him is convinced that it was all a dream but the warmth of Yuuri’s body against his tells him otherwise. Yuuri is still curled next to him, eyes closed and snoring.
Viktor is tempted to just lay there and go back to sleep but like all good things, it has to come to an end. He wakes Yuuri up regrettably. Viktor notices the circles underneath his eyes are deeper the next morning, almost bruise like but he chooses not to comment on them. Instead, Viktor reaches out and intwines their hands, gently squeezing Yuuri’s fingers before letting go.
Breakfast is a quiet affair, neither of them are willing to talk. Viktor clamps his lips shut when Yuuri gets up, ready to head off into the jungle once more. He doesn’t really know what to say, he just knows that he’s an emotional mess and he’d do anything to stop this torture.
Yuuri didn’t even look at Viktor after that, he didn’t even talk to him. He was more distant than usual, curling into himself and clutching onto something deep in his unknown thoughts. Yuuri looked tired with familiar dark circles hanging from his eyes and his eyes losing luster the closer they got to the tomb. Viktor wanted to reach out and hold his hand but like everything else relating to Yuuri, he squashed it before it even had a chance to bloom. Yuuri just wanted his help nothing else, he didn’t want Viktor. He didn’t want comfort or pity, Yuuri knew what he wanted. (But sometimes Viktor allowed himself to hope that Yuuri wanted him too.)
By midday, they reached the tomb.
For the Empire that produced something as beautiful as Angkor Wat, they really needed to rethink how they made their secret hidden tombs.
It looked like shit in Viktor’s eyes, with vines nearly choking the entrance and wonderful carvings were now just hapless lumps that were neither distinguishable or well designed. Not really the most aesthetically pleasing tomb he’s been in and Viktor has been in a lot but Viktor wasn’t here to comment on the questionable taste in architecture by a long-dead king, he was here for what he had left behind. And so was Anatoly.
“Ready?” Viktor nods to the complicated opening of levers and pulleys and knobs.
“Keep an eye out for----”
“I know, Yuuri,” Viktor says, pulling out his gun as he scans the forest behind them for movement. The gun in his hand feels heavy and eager, a countermeasure in case they ran into one of Anatoly's mercs. “You do your thing, darling, and I’ll do mine.”
Yuuri was the one who opened the tomb, with a shove of the right lever the entrance groaned open like a moaning banshee. A sudden gust of wind rushed past them mimicking the sound of something unholy and not of this earth that echoed from down below. If he knew any better, and let's be honest here Viktor didn’t, that felt like an omen.
A really, really bad one.
“Scared, darling?” Viktor asked with a steady voice as they descend into the tomb. “You can hold my hand if you want.”
“I’m as calm as a clam,” Yuuri snorts when Viktor nearly trips over a rock, he extended his hand to him. He smirks, eye gleaming with amusement. “If you’re scared you can hold my hand.”
“I’m fine.” Viktor pouts.
Yuuri looks at him unconvinced, his outstretched hand returning to the strap of his backpack. Viktor notices the way that his fingers fidget with a loose strap.
“There’s no such things as monsters, Viktor.” He reminded him. “Ghosts, demons, and other supernatural creatures are nothing more than myths.”
Viktor gapes. “That’s rich coming from the man who was scared to charter a boat into the Bermuda Triangle.”
“In my defence, I’d rather not end up at the bottom of the sea.”
They reach the bottom of the endless chasm of death and gloom, Viktor more than happy about the fact that his feet are touching solid ground. The tomb, if you could even call it that, was a large concave dome with faded gold and red flowing across its walls. IT wasn’t shabby but it wasn’t very glamorous either. Regardless, Viktor reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone to take a picture, Lilia would certainly appreciate it.
He takes a few steps forward, the greenish blue light of his glow stick illuminating the paved floors that lead to the center of the room. A tunnel, dark and mysterious, is carved across the domed room. Viktor peers into the dark with an uneasy look, fully expecting a monster with glowing red eyes and fangs staring back at him from the void of blackness. The silence here is unsettling, he can feel it choke him like a noose around his neck.
“Hey, Yuuri?” Viktor doesn’t want to jinx them but…… “Isn’t this the part where there’s a-----”
His foot presses down on something with an audible hiss followed up by the familiar sound of gears clunking into place. Viktor feels his foot sink into the stone, his mind panicking as he stares down at the floor with horror. (It was at this moment, he knew. He fucked up.). Yuuri turns around to stare at him incredulously. He just had to open his mouth, didn’t he? A moment of silence passes that feels too good to be true, Yuuri is as still as a corpse as he swings his eyes around wildly waiting for something to happen. Viktor lets out a deep breath of relief, straightening up when nothing happens. Maybe it was just paranoia? “See, just a loose tile. Nothing to worry about-----” A deep rumbling rips through the floor, cutting him off.
The tiles that they stand upon break apart. Small chasms open up giving way to larger ones, heading right towards them. Viktor didn’t want to know what was beneath him but he just hoped that it wasn’t a pit of vipers or tar or worse: scorpions.
They did not need a repeat of Egypt.
“Viktor! Move!” Yuuri tackles him onto the ground, hard.
Viktor smacks his head against the hard tile, he sees stars as he grits his teeth in pain. A hiss escapes through his clenched teeth, blood coats the tip of his tongue in the familiar taste of iron and salt. Yuuri clenches his collar, dragging him up with considerable strength before running deeper into the tomb dodging darts and spikes and the occasional tripwire.
Did ancient architects know nothing else besides these three types of booby traps?! It was almost ridiculous when Viktor spotted an alternating pattern.
Yuuri cursed when he skidded down to narrowly avoid being decapitated by a fucking log with nails off all things! Viktor follows, narrowly avoiding his hair being snagged by the nails embedded in the log. “Whoever designed this tomb was very, very thorough about keeping people out!”
“I think that was the point, darling!”
A spear whizzed out from the mouth of one of the statues aimed at Yuuri’s frozen figure. Viktor jumps and pushes Yuuri out of the way before dragging him to the darkened tunnel; pressing Yuuri against the wall so that they could avoid being shiskababbed. He buries his face into his shoulder until the barrage of pointed projectiles cease, breathing hard as if he had just run a marathon. It feels like an eternity later when the darts and spears and flying logs have stopped trying to kill them.
Viktor looks down and gulps audibly, his hands wrapped tightly around Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri wasn’t glaring up at him for once, instead of that same vulnerability Viktor recognized bled back into his eyes. His lips parted, but no words came out of his mouth. Viktor felt warm and it wasn’t because of the Cambodian summer.
Ah, there it was. The ache, the longing. The chemical chaos of his mind seared through his chest and through his bones, sizzling low in his stomach. It was kicking in now. Yuuri was right there but he wasn’t his and Viktor knew that he never could be. It hurt, it stung, it burned right through him like acid. If this is what it felt like to crash and burn then Viktor welcomed the inferno and gave himself over to it willingly.
“You saved my life,” He finally says, panting hard. “Again.”
“You saved mine.” Yuuri gives him an odd look, scrunching his eyebrows up in confusion. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? You have my back and I have yours?”
“Yes,” Viktor nods. Fingers digging into the material of Yuuri’s khaki coloured jacket. “I believe that was our deal.”
“Viktor,” He jumps when Yuuri uses his name softly. “We need to move. Anatoly's men will be here soon. I doubt any of that was quiet.”
“Right,” Viktor responds in a daze but he can’t seem to move. “The treasure…...we’re here for that.”
“Focus," Yuuri chastises him softly.
Yuuri ducks underneath his arm. (It too dark to tell but he’s red as a maple leaf too.) Viktor follows him, hating the silence that settles beneath them. The sounds of their footsteps are the only thing that fills the small amount of space between them.
They arrive finally at the main chamber, a dark and dingy thing that’s seen better days. Viktor is more cautious where he steps this time.
Since when had it become almost second nature to break into ancient tombs? Viktor stared at Yuuri, it had been several years the both of them had met each other. In those years they spent enough time to know that they’ve been through too much together. Two people who’ve seen legends come to life and uncovered the ruins of ancient cities; they bled together, they saved each other, and they fought next to each other.
Sometimes he wondered what Yuuri viewed him as?
A friend? An acquaintance? And Enemy? Or a mix of all three?
(Enemies with benefits?)
He didn’t call him a thief anymore. Yuuri started to call him by his first name. Did that mean anything or was the lack of air playing tricks with his mind?
“There.” Yuuri nods towards the relic sitting at top of a pedestal, it looks easy enough but looks can be deceiving. The rather intimidating drop down into the empty and dark cavern below made Viktor reconsider his life choices for only a couple of seconds.
The object of desire is a…..vase. Wonderful, Viktor and him risked their lives over a vase. This vase better have some gold in it or Yuuri was going to have to explain himself if they got out of here alive.
Why would Anatoly be interested in a vase of all things?
“I’m not going,” Viktor states. There’s a narrow walkway leading to the vase, it looks too rickety and the wood holding it up has been wasted away. It would be suicide to attempt to walk over it but they were on a schedule here. Anatoly's men were idiots but they were good at tracking, it would be too long now.
“I wasn’t asking you to,” Yuuri said. He points at the vase. “Do you know what that is?
“It’s a vase.” He says flatly, clearly unimpressed. What was so great about this vase anyway? “Why do you think Anatoly wants it?”
“It’s not the vase he wants. What’s inside it is far more important. Ever heard of the Khmer empire?” Yuuri said, he unzips his backpack. Viktor tried to recall that term but his mind came up blank, he was better suited for European history. Yakov had always gotten on his back for focusing on one aspect of history instead of reviewing everything. Of course, he had Yuuri but still, he sometimes kicked himself for not being more prepared. “Don’t worry about. It’s gold, shiny, and worth a lot of money.”
“Why else would Anatoly want it?”
“Something like that.” Yuuri ties the nylon climbing rope around his waist and tosses the frayed end toward Viktor. “Promise to not let me fall?” He asks.
“Never,” Viktor promises, his hands holding on tightly. “Just be careful.”
The walkway towards the pedestal looks unsafe, the wooden pillars holding it up look ready to give way upon the slightest hint of weight. Viktor holds his breath involuntarily before reminding himself to breathe. Every protective instinct in his body is telling him to not let Yuuri go. But Yuuri is stronger than most people give him credit for and much braver too. Matter in fact, Viktor could think of no one more braver than him. Who else would fight off mercenaries willingly or save Viktor from bobby traps or get involved with Anatoly just because they felt like it? Not Yuuri, he was too sensible.
So why did he keep doing it; coming after Viktor and getting injured and dodging bullets and fighting mercenaries and…...pulling away from him?
If Viktor was as sensible, he would’ve killed him years ago.
But he doesn’t because he’s a fool.
And he’s in love.
(Yakov would have his head if he found out.)
Yuuri places his toe tentatively on the loose walkway, testing them as he places his entire foot down. Viktor can see the tension in his shoulders, his body is rigid as he takes a tentative step forward. He needs to be more flexible, less uncertain. Right now Yuuri looked like a nervous deer going ice skating for the first time.
“Relax,” Viktor said, softening his words. “Just relax, Yuuri. You got this, darling.”
Viktor can only increase his grip on the rope until his knuckles are white. Each time the wood below them creaks, he feels his heart stuttering. It’s not safe but Yuuri inches forward slowly, taking a deep breath in and out. He looks like a fencer getting ready for a match. His feet are planted on the floor, his arms are stretched out and Yuuri is focused on what’s in front of him. The structure groans when Yuuri places a foot down, his breath hitches as the whole structures wobbles. The rope around his waist feels taut as Viktor get ready to pull him back to safety.
“It’s just like Mexico.”
Yuuri snorts, the sound is strained and comes out nervously. “You and I remember Mexico quite differently.”
“Mexico was fun.”
“For you.”
“Try not to fall, love.”
Yuuri looks back at him, smiling nervously. “With you here. Never.”
“Very funny.”
“I don’t think I can take another step without comprising the walkway,” Yuuri tells him. He pressed his toes down on his next step, the walkways shuddered underneath his feet, groaning loudly before finally settling. It was as if Yuuri was walking across a bridge made of popsicle sticks. “Viktor, this won’t hold.”
“Then come back, darling,” Viktor said. He gets ready to pull him back. “We’ll find a different way across. We’ve done it before.”
“No,” Yuuri shakes his head. “There’s only one way across.”
“Yuuri, that’s stupid!” Viktor growls as he realizes Yuuri’s plan. He gives a firm tug on the nylon rope but Yuuri resists, firmly planting his feet on the wooden walkway. The walkways creaks and groans under the strain. “You won’t make it!”
“Trust me, Viktor. I know what I’m doing.”
“Yuuri!”
And then he leaps.
Viktor feels his heart stutter to a stop as Yuuri flies through the air, he lands on the end of the walkway hard, he lands and stumbles, his face planting onto the ground with bruising force. He gets up, speeding down the remainder of the walkway. The walkway buckles under his weight, it happens in slow motion and Viktor can only watch on in silent horror. The boards buckle and snap like twigs sending splinters flying everywhere. Viktor ducks his head down to avoid getting splinters in his eyes. His grip on the nylon burns his hands as it slips from his hand, he groans in pain when he tightens his grip.
When the dust settles, he looks up to see both the vase and the walkway gone. Panic takes over, his breathing erratic as he crawls over to the edge. The nylon is bent over the sharpened edge what remained of the walkway, below it dangles Yuuri smiling triumphantly as he holds onto the vase. There’s blood pouring from his nose from when he face planted but other than that he looked otherwise unhurt.
Viktor lets out an audible sound of relief, rolling onto his back as his crushes his palms against his face.
Yuuri Katuski will be the death of him one day.
“Told you I could do it!”
“Yes,” Viktor groans, glaring up at the ceiling frustrated with Yuuri’s stubbornness. “You did.”
“Viktor, pull me up!”
“With that stunt you just pulled I should let you dangle, Yuuri.” Viktor bites out as he gets up and ties the rope around a rock. He ties it off and makes his way to edge, ignoring the stinging of his palms as he hauls Yuuri up.
“And let Anatoly get the vase?” Yuuri snorts, laughing at Viktor’s ire. “As if.”
Yuuri’s head peeks over the edge, his eyes glittering as he places the vase down gently before hauling himself over the edge. He lays there for a minute, his chest rising up and down rapidly as he tries to control his breathing. Viktor can hardly feign any surprise when Yuuri sits up, smiling like a madman. (Now he was starting to understand how Yakov felt.) Yakov would kick his ass if Viktor ever did something like that.
Viktor sinks down onto his knees, wrapping his arms around Yuuri. He doesn’t care if he’s getting blood all over his jacket or if Yuuri smelled a little musty, he was just happy that he was safe and unhurt.
“We should go,” Yuuri tells him softly but doesn’t pull away. He smiles when Yuuri wraps his arms around him, curling his hands around his waist.
"A few moments more, darling," Viktor said.
“Anatoly's mercs are on their way now.”
"I'm certain we could take them."
"I'd rather not."
They part ways in the airport, Yuuri has the relic in his backpack. There’s no fight this time because there’s no point.
“I guess this is it then?” Yuuri said as they stood in the middle of the crowded airport. It felt like every cliche rom-com Viktor had ever seen only this time there was no titular lead trying to stop the generic romantic interest from leaving.
(If only Viktors life was like a rom-com, so many things would’ve been easier for him.)
“Until next time,” Viktor said. The words burn like acid, he doesn’t want to say goodbye. There’s too many things he wants to say but for some reason, no words come out of his mouth. His vocal chords are constructed by the hard know of emotion that forms in his throat. Every instinct told him to hold on, to wrap his arms around Yuuri and beg him not to leave him alone. In a perfect world, they’d be running back to each other, but this wasn’t a perfect world and he wasn’t in a movie. Yuuri made no move and Viktor couldn’t make any, they were in a stalemate that spanned time, continents, and souls. It wasn’t fair.
It was so cruel.
“Until next time,” Yuuri repeats, hollowly.
He looks up at Viktor for a brief moment, his lips part but no words come out. Yuuri closes his mouth abruptly, eyes averted and lips pulled downwards in a tight scowl. He leans into Viktor. His face is buried in the fabric of his jacket and his arms wrap around his waist tightly and then just like that, he was gone. Lost to the crowds around him, most likely making his way to his flight back to Detroit and leaving Viktor behind to pick up the pieces.
Viktor didn’t even get the chance to hug him back. He felt empty, his feet refused to move from his spot, and he knew he needed to back in St. Petersburg soon, Yakov wasn’t happy when he dropped off the face of the earth.
That night in the bar feels like aeons ago.
Or maybe it wasn’t (it had been two weeks ago) and Viktor had just changed a little bit. Maybe he did, he felt something in him change. He didn’t like it, it hurt every time his heart thought of Yuuri.
Was that what was called heartbreak?
Viktor pulled himself away from thoughts of love and daydreams.
He had a flight to catch.
It was a simple black tie event, an illegal auction in the Italian countryside that Yakov had dragged him to for ‘experience.’ Technically, neither of them were invited but Yakov had his ways of getting in and Lilia was well connected enough to get in through her own merit. He vaguely remembered Yakov muttering something about not revealing his name and the benefits of observing before grabbing the nearest glass of alcohol and disappearing into the crowd of silk and diamonds.
Viktor followed, plucking a flute of champagne from a passing waiter before settling in a distant corner that gave him a view of the entire ballroom. Piece after piece played, the swirl of dresses and suits and jewels spinning around on the floor.
He eyes the items across the room draped over in red silk, no doubt they were worth millions and nearly thousands of years old. Everyone in this room would gladly go to war over these items, himself included.
The black market for priceless relics was reserved for two types of people: those who had way too much money than they knew what to do with and those who were here to gawk at the artifacts they wished they could possess. Viktor was neither type, he was his own special brand.
Treasure Hunters weren’t always welcomed to events like these but his reputation garnered enough fame and recognition to earn a scrap of respect from these people.
“Nikiforov,” Someone spat out his name. “So nice of you to finally show up.”
Viktor turned his head slowly. At least this auction wasn’t a complete waste of time, the entertainment was finally here.
“Anatoly.”
The tall brunette with glaring green eyes and a scar running down his face who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. The carelessness, the unimpressed glare, the entitled flutter of his hands---he knew every trait of that slimy bastard. How was it possible for someone to be so vile and unforgiving? Viktor followed the pale line of skin ran from the tip of his slender eyebrows down his temple and ending only an inch away from his mouth.
Cairo, Egypt.
Viktor gave him that scar when they were duking it out over some lost scroll from the library of Alexandria. It was his and Yuuri’s first real adventure together; they had spent the entire time flirting (or at least Viktor did,) running from Anatoly, and breaking into tombs. (Yuuri was less than thrilled at the last part.)
It wasn’t surprising that Anatoly still held a grudge against Viktor. There was only so many times you could lose before your hobby for robbing priceless artifacts turned into an insane obsession. For the trust fund brat turned mercenary, killing Viktor as well as Yuuri was far greater than any treasure.
“Where’s the scamp?”
Viktor smiles, aware that all eyes were on him now. The entire room knew of their legendary feud with each other, to them this was another episode in a long series of spectacular events.
A part of him wondered how this encounter would go down.
“You know how my Yuuri is,” He said, laughing and waving his hand dismissively as if Anatoly told him a joke. “He’s not fond of such events.”
“How is it possible for someone like to work with someone so weak?” Anatoly asked him, his tone was borderline condescending. It took all of Viktor’s contracted effort to ensure that he didn’t end up snapping the stem of the champagne glass in his hand or bash it over Anatoly's head. No one would bat an eyelash at his actions, this was a black market auction after all. There’s weren’t any pesky laws to get in the way. “Barcelona, I think it was the last time I saw him. I almost felt sorry for the poor boy.” Anatoly curled his lips, his grin smug as he lowers his glass. “He squealed like a little pig when I threatened to slit his throat.”
He bristles with hatred and murderous rage. Viktor’s killed before, he’s not proud of it but it is what it is. The mere thought of Anatoly hurting Yuuri in any way was a terrifying prospect to consider. Viktor knew he would be powerless if Anatoly had Yuuri, he wouldn’t hesitate to use him against Viktor. That was just the way that the bastard was, have others do his work for him.
Right now, he could imagine what it would feel like to wrap his hands around his neck and feel the life draining from that dead husk of a body as he chokes him.
This was a black market auction after all nobody would bat an eyelash if he killed Anatoly right here right now.
“Careful, Tolya,” Viktor says sweetly, his words are anything but honey and milk. Nobody notices the way his left hand trembles, his right one hold the flute of champagne perfectly still. His mind is racing, he can’t help but imagine Yuuri alone and tied up or worse. He can’t bear the thought of letting Yuuri down. “Your ego is showing through. You remember what happened to Icarus, don’t you?”
“Don't pretend to be deep, Nikiforov.” He hissed. His features darken and an audible murmur starts up from the crowd gathered around them. The scar of his face made his handsome and smooth features twisted and torn up by hidden rage, malice was not a good look for anybody. “Your piglet escaped, took out a good chunk of my men. Get a leash on him and mark my words, the next time I find him (and I will find him), I’ll make sure to cut him up into little pieces and ship him straight to your door.”
Viktor takes a step in, moving closer into his space. He loomed over him, eyes glittering dangerously as he lowered his voice down to a whisper. “If you find him.”
“Hubris, Nikiforov.” Anatoly scoffs, he doesn’t move an inch. “You have far too much faith in your pet.”
“No, Tolya,” He retorts quickly. “Your first mistake was underestimating Yuuri Katsuki. It always has been.”
“No, Vitya.” Viktor winces at that name. He’s scarcely away of the sound of shattered glass or the sharp sting pain. “My only mistake was allowing you two to find each other.”
Anatoly walks away, smug and triumphant as the crowd around them disperses. Viktor shakes his hand off, spraying droplets of champagne everywhere. Blood drips from the cut on his hand, mingling with the champagne turning it's a rusty colour. No one seemed to care, this would be another story for them to talk about in the morning.
“Need a drink?” A passing waiter asks Viktor.
“No, thank you.” He hisses out. Viktor hardly can entertain the idea of another drink as he plucks a small shard of glass from his hand.
“Really?” The waiter drawls. “You look like you could really use a drink.”
“I said f----” Viktor stops mid-sentence when he meets Yuuri’s disapproving look. “Yuuri?”
“You are in a spectacularly bad mood today,” He said. Yuuri glances at Anatoly's retreating figure, eyes narrowed with the intent to tear the latter to shreds. Glad to see that there was no love lost there. “I don’t blame you. Anybody would want to punch a wall after dealing with him.”
“Blonde really isn't your colour, Yuuri.” He said, eyeing the monstrosity that sat atop his head. “Especially that particular shade.”
Yuuri forwent his glasses tonight, his blond wig a shaggy ruffled mess and Viktor could see that he was wearing grey tinted contacts. He looked absolutely ridiculous, Viktor glazed around the room. Nobody was paying attention to the waiter with yellow hair.
“I know, I look ridiculous,” Yuuri said, he passes him a towel to stem the flow of blood from his hand. “Not everyone can have a Godmother who has connections to the black market. Some of us have to sneak in the old-fashioned way.”
Viktor thanks him and presses the towel against the cuts, he winces at the sting of pain but lets it pass before wrapping the now blood-stained towel around his palm. “Did he hurt you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He could hear Yuuri sigh next to him. “No, Viktor. He didn’t. However, he did----”
“Threaten to slit your throat,” Viktor finishes. “I know. He just told me.”
“Ah.”
“What were you doing in Barcelona?” Viktor asked him. “Why didn’t you call me?”
He was dying to know why Yuuri didn’t call him. Viktor would gladly drop everything and help Yuuri if he had asked him to, he’d done it before and he’d do it again. Disappointment was nothing new to Viktor but it was the fact that Yuuri didn't trust him enough that hurt.
Yuuri ignores the last question, biting down on his bottom lip. “Ever heard of the golden idol of Saint James?”
“I thought that it was lost in a shipwreck.”
“Supposedly.”
Viktors eyes widen, turning to face Yuuri. “You found it, didn’t you?”
“I did but…..”
“Anatoly?”
“Anatoly.” Yuuri forces his name out through his teeth. “He stole it from me and intend to get it back.”
It was strange how the universe threw Viktor a bone once in a while. He smiles, clutches his hand closer to him. “Do you have a plan?”
Yuuri raises a badly dyed eyebrow at him, his eyes shining with mirth. “Are you expecting me to ask you if I need your help?”
Viktor rolls his eyes. “So you do have a plan.”
“Of course. I always come prepared, Viktor.”
It was five months when Viktor found Yuuri in a bar, sipping a beer and looking cosy in an oversized sweater.
It’s was winter in London, snow collects on his shoulders as he strolls through the city.
Yakov had sent him to London to keep an eye on Yuri Plisetsky who ditched him the moment they landed in London and scampered off with Otabek, no doubt lost in their own adventures. Was it wrong to be jealous of a fifteen-year-old? The spunky blond had uttered something about the Tudors and something about merchant ships before jumping out of his car! By the time Viktor had to chance to catch up, Yuri was flipping him off from the back seat of a motorcycle with a familiar mop of styled black hair giving him a thumbs up.
The brat planned this, Viktor knew it.
With no idea where his ward was and nothing to do on his birthday, he wandered around the city of London, exploring what he could and taking pictures to send back to Chris. He knew should’ve reported the incident to Yakov but the thought of the old man jumping on a flight to put the fear of God in the both of them prevents him from doing so.
He knew Yuri wasn’t weak, the younger man was smart enough to avoid an…..unsavory company, and strangely enough, he trusted Otabek to keep his more reckless impulses in check even if he infuriated him with his almost nonchalant attitude.
All Viktor can do is wander aimlessly, not sure what he was looked my for as he ventured deeper and deeper into the city.
And then he passed a bar and there was Yuuri.
Viktor found himself opening the door. Warm air rushed past him when the door closed behind him. His cheeks very flushed, roses blooming underneath his cold bitten skin. It smelled of pine, cheap beer, and the sharp smell of citrus that makes his nose burn.
Yuuri sits with his back facing him and he’s alone in the corner booth, far away from the other patrons. It feels cold, almost unnatural to see him in his isolation. He’s just staring at the seat across from him with a blank look. Was he expecting someone?
The thought makes’s Viktor’s resolve deflate.
Did he get stood up by his date? Now that thought made him scowl for who could ever stand up someone as gorgeous, and smart and lovable as Yuuri?
Viktor hasn’t ever met Yuuri outside their adventures, the one time in Paris was the only outlier. It was an unspoken agreement of sorts. Yuuri finds Viktor, Viktor proposes a short-term partnership, they deal with mercenaries and hidden traps, and when things were over they duked it out. That was how things were between them. So here Viktor was, standing just behind Yuuri, feeling nervous for the first time in a long time.
What we he even supposed to say?
He clears his throat causing Yuuri to flinch at the sound. Yuuri whips his head around, his eyes looking up at Viktor. He squints at him. His glasses are gone.
“Viktor,” Yuuri said. A look a disbelief flashes behind his eyes. “What are you doing in London?”
“I’m bored,” Viktor says as he slides into the booth, seating himself next to Yuuri rather than across from him. He’s cold and Yuuri is the flame that he’s naturally drawn to. Yuuri doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t pull away----Yuuri only looks up at him through inky black eyelashes. His cheeks are flushed with alcohol and he looks so lovely underneath the soft light of the overhead lamp. Viktor is entranced yet again because he’s a fool in love.
He could’ve said anything to start off their incredibly awkward conversation but the first words that come out of his mouth are: “Yuri Plisetsky ran off with Otabek Altin again.”
Yuuri chuckles, a soft sound that warms his chest. “Otabek stole a motorcycle and left me behind. Those two get along surprisingly well.”
“Ah, those two. We trained them too well.”
“Should we go after them?”
“No,” Viktor waves the bartender for a drink. “Even with both of our skills combined, I doubt we’ll be able to catch them. They’re most likely in Scotland by now. Just give them a few days till they’ve worn themselves out.”
“Or they call for help”
“Exactly.”
“So now what?” He asks. “Do we just sit here till Anatoly finds us?”
“I don’t know.” Viktor shrugs, he didn’t really want to think about Anatoly right now. “I didn’t really plan ahead.”
“What are you really doing here, Viktor?” Yuuri asks.
“I just wanted to say hi” He doesn’t need to explain, Yuuri smiles into his drink, eyes downcast demurely. “And I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” Yuuri said, but Viktor knew that it was a lie. The words ‘I’m fine’ could easily be substituted as a synonym for lying.
Silences lapses between them. It feels like an eternity as Yuuri stares down at his glass, looking as lost and tired as he did that night in the hotel room. Viktor reaches for his hand, entwining their fingers together underneath the table. Yuuri gives his hand a light squeeze. He wasn’t completely lost to his spiralling thoughts, he was still there.
“Are you busy this evening?”
“I don't have any plans.” Yuuri raises his eyebrow at him. “Why? Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Yes,” Viktor admits. He doesn’t understand why Yuuri looks so surprised. They don’t have any prior engagements, there’s no treasure or ancient relic to look for, there are no mercenaries on their trail, there’s no countdown clock, there’s nothing but each other in a small bar in London in the middle of Winter. They have time on their side for once and Viktor may never get another chance to spend it with Yuuri. It’s the first time where they expect nothing from the other.
It’s almost exhilarating.
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” He says. “Anywhere, Yuuri.”
“You really want to take me out on a date?”
“Yes.”
“Why?
“Why not?”
Yuuri thinks about it. He grabs his drink, tilting his head back to finish it in seconds. Viktor scoots out of the booth when Yuuri places money down on the table, something burning behind his amber eyes. It sets his heart on fire when Yuuri stars up at him, only inches away from his face.
“Fine then. Take me sightseeing,” Yuuri demands.
Viktor smiles. “Your wish is my command.”
The hour is late and the both of them are drunk. But it doesn’t stop them as they stroll through the city, through the snow and pedestrians enjoying the holiday season.
Yuuri looks so perfect, Viktor can barely tear his eyes away as the snow settles on his hair making it look like the stars set against a midnight sky. He can’t help it when the seams of his heart come undone when Yuuri takes his arm, a rosy blush settling on his face hidden by his scarf. They stroll across Westminster bridge, admiring the way that the lights of Westminster Palace wink against the wine-stained waters of the Thames. Viktor pulls Yuuri close to him when they take a selfie with Big Ben, both of them smiling wide and bright. Yuuri giggles when he splashes Viktor with icy cold water from the fountain in Trafalgar square. Neither of them cares when people give them odd looks. The both of them are lost in each other. They dance in Piccadilly Square to the tune of taxies and Christmas carols, Viktor twirls Yuuri in his arms till their both dizzy.
Viktor knew that this was a countdown of a different kind as he placed his hands on Yuuri’s waist. He leaned in, wrapping his arms around his neck as they sway to the sounds of metropolitan London. God did Viktor want Yuuri. He wanted him in more ways in one and that longing was the push threatened to send him falling over the edge.. It was like the both of them were under a spell that would break the moment Yuri and Otabek came back.
What would this night bring out?
Yuuri was slowly stripping off his armour, there wasn’t any sarcastic comment, no snides, no bristling whenever Viktor touched him. He clung to Viktor like he was his beacon, his hands warm against his neck and palm cupped over his pulse point.
(Viktor wasn’t complaining. He closes his eyes and sways. He would remember this.)
Their night ends in the London Eye, overlooking the glittering jewels of London as the snow falls around them. It’s beautiful but Viktors eyes aren’t on the city down below.
Yuuri is watching the world with interest, his brown eyes softening in glee as the Eye moves slowly through the sky.
“Did you ever have a dream as a kid, Viktor?” He asks, his breath fogging up the glass.
Viktor pushes off the glass and sits down next to him. He pulls his knees close to his chest.
“I wanted to see the world,” Viktor admits. “It’s all I ever wanted.”
“Is that why you ran away from home?”
He should have never told Yuuri that when they were in Oslo. Spending two nights together stuck in a lodge was awkward enough but when Yuuri got comfortable enough, the conversation flowed slowly like a melting stream. This was when they first teamed up as partners, neither of them was used to the other's presence but Viktor was curious about the boy who had crossed half of the world just to track him down.
“No, there was a separate reason for that.”
“Will you ever tell me?”
“Perhaps.” Viktor chuckles, it’s humourless and sardonic. “One day when I’m brave enough.”
It’s a lie.
“You never talk about yourself no matter how much I ask.”
Their close to the top of the Eye now, London feels so small from up here. Snow covered everything, the light reflected off it like glass. Viktor didn’t care though. It paled in comparison to Yuuri’s eyes which shined brighter the higher they went.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not special, Viktor. I’m just a dime a dozen archaeologist who’s in way over his head.”
Viktor wanted to grab his shoulders and shake ever negative though out of his head! He wasn’t special? Bullshit. Yuuri was the most intelligent person he had ever met, he knew everything about history and he was an amazing fighter. He was calm and collected and kind hearted and down to earth. (And he was utterly and devastatingly gorgeous. Viktor did not say that out loud.)
Did Yuuri really think so little of himself?
“Yuuri?” He didn’t say anything. “Do you know why I came to find you all those years ago?”
Yuuri turns to look at him, his eyes no longer shining. “Because….. you needed something from me.”
(Well, he wasn’t wrong but that’s not the point.)
“No, that’s not it.” Viktor holds his hand in his. Yuuri doesn’t pull away, he leans closer to Viktor. “I read your book about lost treasures while researching about the Romanovs. You were so excited, every sentence presented such a vivid story and you had gathered so much evidence that it was impossible to discredit it. I was captivated by you, it was like you were reaching out to me from the pages and pulling me into history.” Yuuri’s eyes widen, his hand squeezing his. Viktor entwines their fingers. “Why did you think that I asked you to autograph my copy when we first met?”
Yuuri narrows his eyes but doesn’t pull away.
“I thought you were patronizing me. That book was a disaster! The critics thought it was terrible---”
(And Viktor stops himself from staring off into space like he’s in an episode of The Office.)
“Yuuri, I liked your work.”
To his surprise, Yuuri lets out a huff of frustration. “You’re a treasure hunter,” He quips, the words were like a knife slicing through the air. Viktor fixes Yuuri with a look that encompasses his exasperation. This wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. He ignores it. “I’m an archaeologist, Viktor. I preserve history. You sell it for your own gain. What were you expecting when you walked into my archive? Did you really think that I was going to give you anything?”
“Okay, you have a point there but you could give yourself a little credit.” He doesn’t mean to snap but Yuuri isn’t backing down, he looks pissed. His face is red and his eyes are narrowed to the point where it looks like he could draw blood from Viktor. “When I walked into that archive, I wasn’t expecting to find someone like you. You were strong and fierce, and to be honest I was kinda intimidated by you because no matter how much I tried to win you over you just stood there with this look. Didn’t you notice how I was stuttering the entire time?”
“I thought you were just flirting because you wanted the map…….” He says in a quiet voice. The fire in his eyes is quickly extinguished but something else burns there, almost like a smouldering sense of understanding washing over him.
“I was, or I was trying to but you kinda shot me down. Repeatedly,” Viktor admits sheepishly. “Yuuri, I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Yuuri snorts. “Boring and awkward?”
“Intelligent and remarkable,” He corrects. “You risk your life for me and you save me over and over again. You’re clever and witty and you're funny and beautiful and so, so kind. I actually wanted your number…….but you thought I was asking for the map.”
Yuuri looked like he wanted to jump off the carriage they were in. His face was shocked, his mouth parted. “I was a mess that day. Actually no, I was freaking out on the inside. I can’t believe I’m telling you this but you were kinda my hero when I was a kid. I know, it sounds pretty stupid.” Yuuri states. “I actually got involved in history because of you.”
Say what now?
Viktor’s train of thought falters for a second and then becomes a jumbled mess.
(“Did I just say that out loud?!”)
“Really?” He says instead because Viktor didn’t know how to respond to that.
What is he even supposed to say to that?!
Yuuri presses his face into his shoulder, the words are muffled but Viktor can still hear them. “I saw you on T.V. when I was a kid. Yuuko, a friend of mine, really liked this one show about treasure hunters and you were there for one episode. I just was captivated when you talked about history, I was a kid then so I had a warped understanding of the world and I didn't really know about your reputation until much, much later. I guess it was when I was in high school that I understood that your methods weren’t right. You’re not as popular as you think you are, Viktor.”
“You resented me?”
“No!” Yuuri snaps his head up. “It’s just……I was just disappointed.”
“In me?”
“In myself.”
“Did you hate me?”
“No!”
“Then why did you act like you did?”
“I never hated you, Viktor.” Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut, his hands forming into fists. “I just didn’t understand you, and perhaps there were times where I was uncaring towards you (which I feel terribly guilty about by the way.) I guess what I’m trying to say is that you became more to me than just some treasure hunter.” He opens his eyes. Yuuri dropped the steele encasing his heart, Viktor could see the cracks where anger and frustration laid. “I never really did understand why you kissed me before you escaped with the map?”
He cringed at the memory. Not really his best moment.
Neither of them talked about.
Viktor was hoping that Yuuri would’ve been absent when he broke back in but to his surprise and nobody else's, Yuuri was a workaholic. He didn’t mean to handcuff him to the chair but Anatoly was on his heels and he was running out of time. The kiss was a spur of the moment thing. It was divided between the feeling of guilt and the fact that Yuuri was the cutest archaeologist he had ever met. Of course, Yuuri was less than impressed because he started to curse at him soon after, hence why he had to place a strip of duct tape over his mouth.
“I gave you my number.” Was all Viktor could say.
The look on Yuuri’s face quickly made him regret his words.
“Viktor, you stole a map that I was responsible for and you kissed me without my permission.” Viktor winced at his tone. (Okay, he really wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was. Chris would never let him live this down if he found out.) “I was too busy panicking. You nearly cost me my job. I thought you left me your number in order to taunt me. Why else did you think I tracked your down to Egypt?” He blicks, realization flashing across his face. “Oh my god. Did you think that I came there for you? Viktor!”
The fact that Yuuri came all the way down to Egypt to kick his ass both flattered and terrified Viktor because he knew that Yuuri was capable of doing that.
“Yes?” They were on the top now. Viktor can hear the sounds of the metal turning and the humming of air.
Viktor bites his lips, shame and embarrassment burning through him like wildfire. “I was really happy to see you in Egypt but before I could ask you out for dinner you asked for the map and then Anatoly's goons appeared and then we had to run…….” He trails off realizing how stupid he must have looked to Yuuri. “Yeah, not my best plan.”
“So why did you—-“
“Ask you to stay with me?” Yuuri nods. “I asked you to stay because I didn’t want you to leave.” This really wasn’t going the way he wanted. “It’s silly, isn’t it? You chasing me and then me chasing you and on and on it went…..”
“Oh my god,” Yuuri pulls his hand away to cover his face. He was red as a beet, the tips of his ears were dusted over a fair shade of pink. “Viktor, what the fuck is wrong with the both of us?”
“You still came to find me. I know you loved hunting treasure with me Yuuri”
“I don’t know...I didn’t…..” He said, softly. “Every time, I promised myself that it would be the last time----that I would take the artifact and go back to the archives but I kept coming back because...well, I liked it.” And you. He doesn't have to say the words but the implications are clear. Viktor really is a fool. “The archives felt stifling after Egypt. Nothing felt the same after that, I felt like I was being suffocated. Arranging and ordering old documents didn’t feel new, it felt repetitive and when I thought of you, I just couldn’t stay down there and waste my life away. I wanted to do more, be more.”
“But----”
“You, Viktor!” He exclaims. “It was because of you. You made me see the world in a different way, every adventure we went on made me happy. Couldn’t you tell?” Yuuri curls into himself, pulling away from Viktor. “I didn’t realize it at first but I kept coming back for you because…….well, I wanted to be with you too. I didn’t get angry at you, I stopped pulling away, I kept you close to me because-----”
“You liked me?”
He sighs, like the topic is inevitable now. And it was. “More than that.”
“You love me?” Viktor asks, slightly breathless. “Yuuri---”
“Yes.”
“Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor whispers, he pulls Yuuri’s hands away from his face. Yuuri doesn’t look at him, his eyes are downcast and glistening with tears. “Did you ever consider for just a moment that maybe I was serious about you?”
“I thought----”
“And that was our problem. It still is our problem.” Viktor sighs. He tilts his chin up, brushing the tears away with his thumb. “We assumed too much about the other. We push and we pull but we just keep tumbling down after each other.”
“Communication was never our plus point.” Yuuri leans into his touch. The corner of his lips tugs up in a sad smile. “I suppose it’s not entirely our fault, it’s kinda hard to tell somebody how you feel when your constantly dodging projectiles and mercenaries alike. We have Anatoly to thank for that.”
“Oh Yuuri,” Viktor cups his face in his hands. “We’ve wasted so much time because neither of us could get out head out of our asses.”
“Real romantic, Viktor.” Yuuri giggled. He’s so beautiful, Viktor can barely breathe. “We can make it up.”
“We still need to talk about things.”
“Agreed.”
“And we have a lot to figure out.”
“Which we will.”
“I have a lot to apologize for.”
“I do too.”
“I’ll need your phone number now since we’re dating.” He looks down at Yuuri. “Are we dating now?”
“Yes, Viktor.” Yuuri says, smiling brightly. “We’re dating now. This is a date.”
“So.....does that mean I’m your boyfriend now?” The thought sends a rush of excitement directly into his bloodstream when Yuuri nods, his cheeks turning pink. He can barely contain the grin that spreads over his face. “Anything else? I think that’s everything...…..”
“One more thing,” Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor’s neck and pulls him down to his level. Viktor feels his breath caught in his throat as Yuuri is only centimetres away from his face, It’s like that time in Cambodia. Their chests are pressed against one another, he could feel the solid thump of his heart through their clothes. “I love you,” He whispered against his lips.
Viktor’s eyes flutter like butterfly wings when Yuuri presses his lips against his. Yuuri’s lips are cold, almost velvety just like he imagined him to be. Viktor kisses back enthusiastically, his fingers tangling in his hair. He feels like he’s floating when Yuuri deepens the kiss with a quick swipe of his tongue. The moan rolls off his tongue like honey. It’s not his first kiss but it still leaves him breathless when Yuuri pulls away, his eyes dark and glittering like a lion. Viktor is dazed, craving more when Yuuri stares up at him like that. The familiar heat pools in his gut when Yuuri’s fingers toy with the strands at the base of his neck sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.
“I love you too,” He stutters out. It comes out needy but Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind. His smile is soft against the skin of Viktor’s neck, his breath tickling the exposed parts of his skin.
“This feels like a dream,” Yuuri murmurs with his eyes closed. “I feel like if I open my eyes, you’ll be gone.”
Viktor tries not to think of Barcelona. Yuuri had left Viktor, he held onto him like he was everything and just lief like it was nothing. He didn’t leave a note or anything, just the ghost of him to haunt Viktor in his dreams. He didn’t bring it up because it was in the past, both of them made mistakes and the both of them had hidden everything away deep in themselves.
The moment that their carriage descende, they were going to start over.
Properly this time.
“My darling Yuuri,” Viktor chuckles, he kisses him again. This one is sweet, just a brief brush of his lips over his. “We’re on top of a giant ferris wheel and you just kissed me. This is a dream come true.”
Yuuri pulls Viktor into another kiss that keeps him captive, Viktor isn’t complaining. He’d chose Yuuri over all of the gold in the world. Always. “Do you want to go-----”
“Yes,” Viktor replies quickly. "I'd love to."
Yuuri scoffs softly, more unsurprised than annoyed. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“My hotel is too far away.” He smirks. “Besides, do you really have to ask. I’ve been yours since the moment I met you, darling.”
“You’re a shameless, Viktor Nikiforov.”
“Is it bad that I’m shameless about wanting you?” Viktor sings, he swoops down for another kiss addicted to the taste and feel of Yuuri’s lips. He places his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back, his other hands cups his face. “I’ve wanted you the moment that I first laid eyes upon you.”
“How could I have been so blind?” Yuuri murmurs against his lips.
“You love me and I love you.” Viktor is on cloud nine and he doesn't think he’ll be coming down soon. He’s just so damn happy. “You really love me...This is real.”
“That I do.” He smiles and it sends Viktors heart into a statico.
“This is real,” Viktor breathes out. “Oh my god, this is real.”
Yuuri holds his hand, his thumb resting over his knuckles. Something about that just feels so final that Viktor can’t doubt this whole night.
There’s so much they need to resolve and so much that they need to say; years and years of bottled up emotions that slowly poisoned them. It felt like they were breaking down the walls around their hearts and mind, accessing the souls that resided deep within the layers upon layers they had spent building. Viktor couldn't wait, there were so many things he wanted to know about Yuuri and he knew that he’d loved every single detail.
“Let’s go, Viktor,” Yuuri said. “I’m ready now.”