Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chicago, 1929

If you'd have asked fourteen year old Yuuri where he thought he'd be in a decade's time, his answer definitely would have been "wherever Victor was!" And technically... he was definitely still stuck to Victor's side, but teenage-Yuuri probably wouldn't have thought that meant performing in a speakeasy for money every night.

But present-day-Yuuri wasn't complaining, by any means. Since Victor and he had landed the gig with their current band, they were able to pay rent and eat each month. Sure, they performed in slightly illegal places, but speakeasies managed to get some money in their pockets, so they sat tight and stayed grateful. Neither of them drank on the job anyway.

Since the audience's focus was usually on the dancers - each performance raunchier than the last - Victor would regularly turn away from the other string players to chat with Yuuri while he hit his keys absentmindedly, glancing at the sheet music every so often like he didn't have most of the jazzy songs memorised already. There was little more Yuuri could ask for.

The other members of the band were nice, sure, but Victor and he had been through thick and thin together. From the moment Victor arrived in America all those years ago, they'd been practically glued at the hip the moment Yuuri had had the courage to introduce himself.

Victor, once again, stood in front of the piano Yuuri sat at. Yuuri let the end of Farewell Blues wash over him before grinning at the other man.

"You sure we're getting paid tonight?"

"As sure as I am that we're performing in a funeral parlour," Victor chuckled as they transitioned into Let's Misbehave.

"Great. I need new shoes," Yuuri stuck up his right foot from where he was sitting, showing Victor the worn through sole.

The man frowned, squinting at the shoe while continuing to bow the violin, "I thought you got new shoes two months ago? Just before Christmas?"

"I did!" Yuuri tucked his foot under himself. This piece didn't need elongated piano notes anyway, and sitting normally was so boring, "These are those shoes. And my only shoes. They're not going to survive until March at this point."

"I can give you some of my pay after we pay rent."

"What's the point?" Yuuri exhaled, "It's the same amount anyway."

Victor pursed his lips, looking away from the pianist and into the crowd. Yuuri watched him for a moment longer before his eyes fell to the keys again. Victor understood his point, he probably just felt bad that he couldn't help.

Before Yuuri could fall too deep into thought about their financial situation, Victor turned back to him, dropping his violin from his chin as he did so. Weird. They were only half way through the song. A bad feeling began to pit itself in Yuuri's stomach.

"Yuuri. There's a cop in here."

Yuuri blinked. His gut's bad feeling escalated into panic immediately as he watched Victor grab his violin case.

"There isn't." He breathed, his hands continuing across the keys on autopilot.

"There is. Over there." Victor continued wrangling his violin into its case, but gestured with his head to where a man, old and slightly out of place in the lively backroom, was using his police badge to try and open a bottle of beer.

" Kuso ," Yuuri swore, tapering his playing down until he could stand up without the crowd noticing. A few of the members of the band glared at him, but continued to play.

"The main door's too obvious, but the fire exit could get us out quietly," Victor reasoned as he held his violin to his chest. Yuuri had never been so grateful he didn't have to carry a piano around with him. Every club had one.

His relief was short lived though, as before they could even begin moving towards the door, it burst open, along with the main entrance. The police force began pouring in, and suddenly, the whole room was chaos.

Men and women dashed around, desperately trying to escape the blocked entryways, and Yuuri and Victor's quiet escape quickly became impossible. The fire escape was unusable, and the two of them would probably be squashed if they tried to get off the stage the band had been performing on.

A few of the dancers had fainted in the commotion, but Yuuri couldn't find it in himself to care as his panic continued to rise, eyes flicking around desperately as his breathing became more and more erratic. Now wasn't time for one of his panicked spells! He mentally berated himself, but it did nothing to calm him. He was going to rot in jail for simply wanting to be able to feed himself and his best friend. Who wouldn't be panicking at a time like this?

A hand placed gently on his shoulder drew him out of his mind long enough to focus on Victor's face, looking remarkably calm. Damn his capability to keep composure, even at a time like this!

"There's a window up there," Victor said softly, his eyes flicking to a small window above the stage, "Give me a leg up and I'll pull you out too. We can climb up the fire escape balconies and hide until the police leave."

Bless his capability to keep composure, even at a time like this!

Had it been anyone else in the band, Yuuri would have refused outright, expecting them to use his help and abandon him once they were out the window, but this was Victor. Victor, who'd managed to pull Yuuri out of his anxious thoughts before they overwhelmed him, and with a plan no less.

In the commotion, no-one noticed the two of them hopping out, quiet as they watched the cops herd the crowd out of the funeral parlor. Crouching on the highest balcony, they saw their fellow band members be pushed into police vans, cringing as they heard their names being called for.

Sighing, Yuuri leant back against the wall, "We're not getting paid tonight."

"Sorry about your shoes," Victor grimaced, sitting next to Yuuri.

"We'll go to Yuuko tomorrow, see if she's got any openings for any bands that don't perform in speakeasies," Yuuri watched his breath turn to steam and drift away as he spoke, "I don't think I can do that again."

Victor's arm wrapped around Yuuri's shoulder, bringing him into a side hug. Yuuri let his head fall onto Victor's shoulder, eyes closing as the adrenaline of the night began to fade.

"Are you okay? I saw you getting worried in there, the way you did when you first moved away from your parents."

Yuuri snorted, his head lolling back to the wall behind him. Victor had Yuuri's best interests at heart, but it was still embarrassing to remember how he'd sometimes spontaneously burst into tears the first few months after he'd moved in with Victor.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm better now. I'd have been way worse if you hadn't been there. Thank you."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, pressed close while the February wind whipped around them. Once the cries of the people below quietened as everyone was carted away and they were both sure no police remained, the two of them clambered down the stairs to the back alley behind the funeral parlour and began to trek back to their apartment.

Stretching his arms above him, Victor yawned as they walked down the empty street. A clock at the end of the street chimed midnight.

"Ah, it's Valentine's day Yuuri! Got anyone special to spend it with this year?" He grinned, poking his violin case in Yuuri's side.

Yuuri just rolled his eyes, "Victor, I think you'd know better than anyone if I got a partner."

"Ah yes, since Takeshi proposed to Yuuko you haven't believed in love, have you?" Victor laughed as Yuuri blushed.

"Shut up," He whined, looking away, "You've never even told me about your love life before you came to America, so I don't even have any stories I can use against you."

"Well, my love life has never been all that interesting."

"You? Who’s had girls fling themselves at him since he moved here? Your love life has never been interesting?" Yuuri squinted at Victor. The other man just shrugged.

"Russian women aren't like American women. And American women don't quite do it for me."

"You're a strange man, Nikiforov."

"You're not too bad yourself, Katsuki," Victor looped his arm in Yuuri's, then held up an imaginary shot in his hand with the violin, "Here's to getting a Valentines for next year!"

"Cheers!"

*

"Yuuko! You won't believe why we're here!"

"Victor!" Yuuko looked up from her typewriter, before her expression soured, "Don't tell me Yuuri's with you too."

Victor blinked, looking back at Yuuri, who was hiding in the hall, "Why?"

"He told me he would babysit the triplets last Saturday while Takeshi and I went out on a date! Then 5pm rolled by and where was he?"

Victor remembered last Saturday much better than Yuuri did. Phichit had dropped by for lunch, and managed to get himself to stay the night with a bottle of bourbon.

"That was my fault!" Victor said with his heart melting smile, grasping his violin case to his chest, "I fell down the stairs, Yuuri just had to stay with me in the hospital. I could have died!"

"Sure thing," Yuuko rolled her eyes, "And fully healed already?"

"Isn't American health care amazing?"

Yuuri groaned, stepping into the room as well. He looked anywhere but Yuuko, who in turn got back to work on her typewriter.

"We just need a new band that doesn't work in less than legal spaces. You saw the papers this morning? Another club was raided. A club we were performing in!" Yuuri threw his hands in the air, "I'm sorry you and Takeshi didn't get to drive to your plain old skating spot for a few hours, but we need a safe job that still pays us!"

"In this day and age? You get one or the other, Yuu-chan , and you take it or leave it," Yuuko said with a deadpan expression, before her eyes lit up and her mouth split into a mischievous grin that Yuuri knew to never trust, "But Yakov did happen to have a manager come in earlier needing a pianist and violinist quickly. They're a touring band, performing in the Hotel de Coronado for the next month, starting tomorrow."

Yuuri could practically hear the stars in Victor's eyes, "Really?! In Miami?"

"All expenses paid for the train too, they're desperate for these musicians," Yuuri didn't trust Yuuko one bit, and this sounded too good to be true.

"You're not messing with us, are you?"

"Nope! You can go through to Yakov now! Before he finds two people better suited for the role," Yuuko winked, gesturing to the door behind her.

Now, Yuuri had met Yakov a million times before. He'd arrived with Victor back in 1917, when Victor had only been 16, and both of them had spent a lot of time with the Japanese family that ran the inn they'd stayed in while Yakov tried to find his feet in the new country. Still, while Yuuri had managed to get over himself enough to be able to perform with - and later befriend - Victor, he'd always been intimidated by Yakov.

He trailed behind Victor as the older man threw the door open with a cheerful, "Yakov!" and kept his head down, as if they were in trouble rather than looking for a job.

"Vitya." Yakov grumbled, even as he let Victor kiss his cheeks, "Your contract doesn't let up until July."

"It would, if the band still existed!" Victor nodded, as if they were discussing the weather.

Yakov, to his credit, didn't let his eye twitch, like it usually did when talking to Victor, "And why is that?"

"Long story, but apparently funeral parlours run by the city's mafia aren't the way to go," Victor shrugged, "But no matter! Yuuko says you've got a manager looking for a violinist and pianist pronto, and who better than us two?"

Yakov's eyebrows furrowed further than their usual place cemented low over his eyes. Bad sign.

"No."

"What? Why? What does everyone else you're looking for have that we don't?" Victor was using his best smile, so Yuuri thought it only appropriate that he try to smile as well.

"Your hair isn't long enough."

"I have wigs."

"They only play classical music."

"We're not picky."

"For God's-- Neither of you are women, Victor."

That made Victor pause, frowning as he processed the words. Yuuri could see his thoughts racing.

"We could borrow Mari's dresses."

Yuuri choked on his own spit.

"Victor!"

"What?! We need the money! Vitya and Yuurasha, live in Miami!"

"Vitya. This manager is Russian, and she is not stupid," Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose, "I could get the two of you a one night gig at a temperance bar tonight, but the closest is in Memphis, so you'll need to find a way to get there."

"Thank you, Yakov," Yuuri bowed as Victor turned to leave the room, grumbling his thanks as well. Yakov grunted in response, turning to his telephone, presumably to find the women musicians he needed.

Outside of the room, Yuuri leaned against the door for a moment, both lamenting their luck and to recover from a failed talk with Yakov. In the background, he heard Yuuko snicker. Yuuri's anxious energy suddenly became quite minor.

"How'd it go, girls ?"

Victor sniffed in performative dismissal, "Thanks a bunch, Yuuko. Now Yakov thinks we're weird."

"I think you did that to yourself, suggesting Mari's dress collection," Yuuri reasoned, ignoring Yuuko's ecstatic giggle.

Groaning, he began walking away from Yuuko's desk, Victor following. He had bigger things to worry about than Yuuko's petty attempt to embarrass him for bailing on babysitting duty. Namely, how he and Victor were meant to get to Memphis by tonight. They didn't have the money to spend on public transport such a distance away, and neither of them owned a car. They'd have to borrow one, but who did he know that owned a car...

"Yuuko!"

He almost bumped into Victor with how quickly he turned around, a wide grin on his face. Yuuko kept her focus on her work.

"What?"

"You and Takeshi don't have a date tonight do you?"

Yuuko stopped typing, "No..?"

"You'll be at home all night with him... and the triplets?"

"Yes?"

"So you won't be needing the car?"

Yuuko's jaw dropped, a disgruntled look dirtying her expression, "What the hell, Yuuri?! I thought you were offering me and my husband a quiet night in! Some gentlemen you are!"

"An eye for an eye, Yuuko. So, which valet are you keeping your car in?"

*

Pick Valet proved to be a block away from Yuuko's house, a relief to Yuuri's cold and overused feet. As he and Victor entered, a group at the table, probably the ones who ran the place, looked up from their cards in the corner of the valet, but paid them no mind as Victor and Yuuri asked for Yuuko's car.

The mechanic, a greying man, stepped out of a backroom behind the men, wiping a cloth on his hands. Directing them to the car, he smiled warmly as he began to prepare it to be taken.

Unfortunately, before he even managed to finish filling up its tank with gas, another car zoomed into the valet, breaking through the entrance barrier. Without thinking, Yuuri stepped behind Yuuko's car, out of the way of the rogue vehicle.

Out of it stepped an entourage of men in crisp suits, with dickie bows around their necks and spats on their feet. Not that Yuuri had a lot of time to admire their attire, as all of them were pulling machine guns out, aiming them at the table of card players.

Miraculously, no-one had noticed them, and Yuuri took the opportunity to crouch the moment he saw the guns, pulling Victor down too. Of course America banned alcohol, but not guns. Made complete sense.

The rustling of Victor's clothes alerted the gunmen, and for a chilling second, Yuuri thought they'd seen Victor, which looked like a pretty certain death sentence. Instead, they pointed towards the mechanic, who had been standing frozen with the gasoline pump still in the car.

"You, come stand with your friends." One of them gestured with his gun and the mechanic, in shock, could only nod and walk slowly over, hands raised.

"Oh, 'Toothpick Charlie', you've really done yourself now," A man without a gun stepped forwards, poking a finger at a man at the head of the table, coincidentally with a toothpick in his mouth.

"Spats, to what do I owe the pleasure," The man - Toothpick Charlie? - responded back smoothly, something Yuuri commended. With a group of guns aimed at his face, Yuuri would have been visibly vibrating. His hands were already shaking.

'Spats' scoffed, spitting at Charlie's feet, "Are you kidding? I know that it was you who ratted out my speakeasy yesterday. I should have known it was your men hanging around the funeral parlour."

And Yuuri suddenly commended Charlie a lot less.

Then he blanched. Victor and he were practically in the middle of a fight between the proper Chicago mafia right now, something that could only end poorly for the two of them. Yuuri's fourteen year old self probably hadn't meant this when he wanted to be with Victor either.

Being caught by the police didn't seem so bad now.

"All of you, against the wall," Someone with a gun grunted, and the men shuffled over to the wall parallel to where Yuuri and Victor were crouched.

Yuuri watched, clutching Victor's arm, as the mechanic began praying under his breath as he faced the wall with everyone else. An innocent man, going to die for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

(Yuuri was also very aware he and Victor were both innocent men in the wrong place at the wrong time. They just had the added bonus of a car blocking them from view.)

The burst of shots rang out loud in the valet, the men's blood painting the wall as they fell. Yuuri couldn't tear his eyes away fast enough.

For a second, it seemed like everything was silent. Even the street outside went quiet.

Then the gasoline pump fell out of the car.

The guns immediately turned towards the sound.

One of them saw Victor.

"Oi, a witness!"

Victor was up immediately, clutching his violin protectively to his chest, "We didn't see anything, we swear!"

"'We'?"

Yuuri internally swore, slowly standing too, "We were just leaving anyway, we don't know about what happened in the past two minutes."

"Oh no, we don't let no witnesses survive," Spats looked the two of them up and down, "Don't worry, it's be over in a--"

A loud clang echoed around the valet, and suddenly everyone's eyes were on Charlie, who'd managed to survive his round of bullets and clawed his way over to the phone. Unfortunately, whoever he'd planned to call wasn't coming, because the phone had fallen the moment he'd tried to grab it.

With everyone's attention on the man, Victor seemed to come to his senses first with his great capability to keep composure, and grabbed Yuuri's hand to pull him towards the street. Another burst of shots rang out, focused on both the fleeing men and Charlie.

Once out, Victor didn't stop running. Ducking through every alley he could, he dragged Yuuri along as they ran for their lives.

Yuuri didn't have the time to care about his shoes as he tried to keep up. Victor, with longer legs, was undoubtedly faster than Yuuri was, and forced him to keep pace as they skidded around random corners, deep in Chicago.

When they finally stopped, it was in a shop with covered windows, advertising something or other to the street, and blocking said street's view of the people inside. The shopkeeper blinked owlishly at the two of them, but neither paid him any mind as their lungs heaved for oxygen that seemed to have been lacking for the past ten minutes.

Now that they'd stopped, Yuuri couldn't ignore how his feet were soaked, the soles of his shoes now worn all the way through and the snow on the ground sending bursts of chills through his body, but he was intact. No pain from bullet wounds, just more adrenaline than he was meant to have in his system for two days running.

"Are you okay? You weren't shot were you?" Victor turned to Yuuri, checking him over for any blood.

"No, no, I'm okay. Did they get you?"

"I'm all in one piece, don't worry."

Yuuri finally let himself breathe , "Thank god."

Looking around the shop, his attention was drawn to the pay phone against the wall. Before he had time to think, he was walking towards it, dime at the ready. Victor followed, uncertain for once.

"Are you going to phone the police? We'll have to tell them about the speakeasy," He whispered.

"I'm calling Yakov," Yuuri stuck his chin up in false resolve, "And then we're going to steal some of Mari's dresses."

*

"This thing is so drafty," Victor bemoaned, curling his scarf closer around his face.

"At least the shoes are good," Yuuri hummed, focusing on the tap of his 'borrowed' T-bar heels against the train platform instead of his racing heart.

Although he did privately agree with Victor. The dresses they had taken, soft satin and cotton, left Yuuri feeling slightly exposed, even if he'd been quite assured by Victor that everything masculine about him had been perfectly hidden.

The bobbed wig he wore hid his jawline, his makeup gave his face a feminine softness, and the tissue stuffed down his bra gave him some illusion of a chest. He passed well for a woman, and as did Victor. It was the part where they had to stay passing as women for the next month without anyone catching on that nagged at Yuuri's mind.

A group of women holding various instruments stood further down the platform, lining up to be let onto the train. Another woman faced them, stern eyebrows drawn low as she looked from clipboard to girl, letting them on one at a time. That was their stop, Yuuri guessed.

Stopping at the back of the queue, Yuuri looked at the woman with the clipboard closer. She was draped in beautiful silk, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, and an unimpressed expression never left her face, no matter who stood before her. She didn't really look like a band manager, but Yuuri had never met a woman band manager so he wasn't going to judge.

As they neared the woman, and the entrance of the train, their escape from Chicago, Yuuri felt Victor shiver beside him, pulling his scarf closer to his face. Yuuri subconsciously rubbed his arms. Why did women even wear stockings? They did nothing?

"You two are the new pianist and violinist?" The woman asked, eyes flicking between the two.

"Yes, ma'am," Yuuri replied, giving his best impression of a female's voice, "I'm Yuuri, the pianist."

Victor and he had been over their names. 'Yuuri' didn't have a gender tied to it, and no American would think to question it. 'Victor' was easy enough, changing to 'Victoria'.

"Clearly," The woman said, before her eyes turned to Victor, "And you are?"

"Vera, the violinist," Victor held up his violin, and Yuuri, to his credit, kept his expression neutral as the woman scribbled their names onto the clipboard.

"Right," She gestured towards the entrance of the train, "I am Lilia Baranovskaya, the manager and conductor of the band. You two will be sleeping in the bunks 7a and 7b on the journey down. Welcome to my band."

And that was it. They were free of Chicago.

"Vera, huh?" Yuuri grinned, after depositing their luggage onto their bunks and he and Victor were walking towards the day carriage, where the rest of the band were waiting.

"I panicked, okay?" Victor groaned, "Lilia... she knew me, back in Russia. I know it's been over a decade and I definitely don't look like my teenage self anymore, but I'm not taking any risks with 'Victoria'."

Yuuri blinked, processing the information just dumped on him, "You know her?"

"Yuuri, she's basically the reason I know what a violin is," Victor levelled, completely serious, "She and Yakov were married, but they were never that close? I think when Yakov brought me home she finally had something to do besides play violin by herself."

"Well... In that case, she basically brought us together. I've got to get her a thank you basket."

Victor gave an unflattering snort, rolling his eyes, "She'd hate that. Do it."

The day carriage was buzzing as they walked through the door, every girl's eye turning to the two of them. Yuuri, taking a page out of Victor's book, self consciously shrunk back into his scarf.

"You're the new girls, huh?" A girl with a double bass beside her grinned.

There was a pause as Yuuri couldn't bring himself to reply. He could feel his face flushing at the attention, and he could only hope that his foundation covered it. 

(It didn't.)

"Yep!" Victor swooped to the rescue, with his perfect imitation of a woman charming everyone in the carriage.

"Nice!" The girl with a saxophone case sat next to the double bass girl gestured for Victor and Yuuri to side opposite them, "I'm Josephine, this is Daphne."

"I'm Vera, she's Yuuri," Victor gestured for Yuuri to sit beside the window, Yuuri taking it gratefully, nodding to the girl, Daphne, before her.

"Lovely to meet you two," Josephine held her hand for them to shake, which each of them took easily, "You won't believe the tizzy Lilia worked herself into before you arrived."

"She certainly didn't show it," Victor shook his head, "Looked exasperated at best."

"That's dear old Lilia for you," Daphne laughed, "Don't worry, she's like that for everyone in the band. You're not getting new member privileges."

"I should hope not! Yuuri and I have never been in a band like this before," Victor winked cheekily at Yuuri. The two girls turned their attention to Yuuri as his face heated.

"Your friend isn't much of a talker is she?" Josephine tilted her head, beady eyes trained on Yuuri. He felt like squirming, but instead averted his eyes, checking his nails in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.

"She's shy," Victor let his eyes trail back to where Yuuri sat, a small, genuine smile gracing his features, "She likes to hide behind the piano when she performs."

Yuuri gasped in mock offence, his anxiety lessening with Victor's aid, "Excuse me, you've never complained when it's let us talk when performing before."

"Me? Chatting instead of focusing on a performance? Never," Victor splayed a hand over his chest dramatically, grinning.

A clap brought them out of their playful banter, as all eyes turned away from the new bandmates and towards Lilia. The light feeling in Yuuri's chest darkened immediately at her unimpressed expression.

"There will be no messing about during performances with me," She said, eyes trained on Victor. His ears turned pink and he looked away, "In my band I expect the highest quality of my musicians. If I hadn't been in such a rush I would have auditioned the two of you, had background checks -" Yuuri blessed the unwanted need for two musicians quickly "- but our audiences watch for high quality performances. I have high expectations for the both of you."

With that, she walked away, back through the door towards the night carriage, and the hush she left behind in the carriage persisted for a few more moments before all the girls burst into raucous laughter. Yuuri couldn't tell why, he was frightened out of his mind.

"Oh man," Josephine wiped genuine tears out of her eyes, "I've never seen her that harsh towards newbies, ever . They usually just get the 'no alcohol, no boys, we have a reputation' talk. Maybe you guys are getting new member privileges."

"She's Russian and she doesn't condone alcohol? Oh, what have I signed up for," Victor joked, apparently fully recovered from the scolding already.

"Oh don't worry, every girl here drinks. We just don't get caught in front of Lilia," Daphne grinned back, "It's really not that hard, once you settle in. Lilia's always got a million things on her mind, what we drink alone in our rooms doesn't need to be a priority to her."

"And you'd never catch us with men," Victor slapped the table between them, "They're horrible things."

"You're telling me," Josephine nodded, "That's where the last pianist went. Fell in love with an old banker, ran away with him without a goodbye. Lilia was so mad."

"And the violinist?"

"Oh no, you'd never catch her with a man. She was arrested for homosexuality, tried wooing the wrong person at the wrong time," Josephine rolled her eyes, "Honestly, you'd think she'd be able to hide it."

"Right," Victor hummed, a playful glint in his smile, "Do I have big shoes to fill then?"

"Depends. You want to give us a demonstration?"

Victor might well have been a Christmas tree with the way he lit up at the chance to play. It was a trait Yuuri could never understand, playing alone to an audience who would knew you and would judge you . But Victor was always so happy to entertain, and Yuuri wouldn't stop him for the world.

After checking the tuning of his violin, Victor adjusted himself in his seat as every eye in the carriage fell back to him. He was angled towards Yuuri like this, and gave his companion a little wink before he began bowing the melody line of Masculine Women! Feminine Men!

Yuuri nearly rolled his eyes at how on the nose it was.

It wasn't a greatly popular song, Yuuri doubted the girls in the band would know it. Victor and he had had to learn it for one of the bands they'd been in back in 1926, when the song was new, and the irony was palpable now the two of them were literally over their heads in drag with nobody noticing.

Yuuri began to hum quietly as Victor neared the first chorus, ever aware of how high he was keeping his voice. He tapped the table as if he had his piano, matching the notes as Victor watched him in delight.

They were only stopped as they neared the end of the song, by a clapping from behind them that could be nobody else but Lilia. Turning to the manager, Yuuri was unsurprised to see her brows pinched, as they had been since they had met. Victor put his violin down immediately, crossing his hands over the neck of the instrument as if Lilia was going to try and steal it from him.

"That is a lovely piece, Vera," She commented, so dryly Yuuri couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. It was bound to be a lovely piece when Victor played, after all.

"Thank you," Victor said cautiously, hands tightening around his violin.

"What is it called?"

"Oh... It's--" Victor faltered, an unnatural move for him, as he realised the name of the song wasn't exactly something Lilia would find as lighthearted as Yuuri had. 

"It's an original piece," Yuuri supplied quickly in Victor's pause, "We wrote it a few years back. Never came up with a name, in the end."

"Hm," Lilia's eyes narrowed, but if she knew it wasn't an original, she didn't say anything, "It's a nice composition in that case. May I?"

She was unfurling her hand out for the violin, Yuuri realised. Was it protocol for band managers to inspect instruments? It'd never happened before.

Still, Victor relented after a moment and handed Lilia his violin. She started with the neck, where he fingers ran over the tiny, messy engraving and "V + Y" from the one time both of them had got drunk and decided to immortalise themselves on the violin, then moved to the belly, inspecting it deeply before turning it back to Victor, pointing at something Yuuri had failed to notice until now. His stomach dropped.

Opposite to the chin board, a bullet hole had torn through the wood, something that hadn't decorated the violin before yesterday.

"It's... a design choice!" Victor drummed his fingers on the table in a weak attempt to keep his hands preoccupied without his violin, "Has always been like that. Doesn't affect its quality though."

He grinned disarmingly, and Yuuri swore he saw some of the girls melt out of the corner of his eye. Lilia, however, did not seem so charmed.

"It should not. Violins should be kept pristine, not with etchings and... odd design choices."

"Of course. It's barely noticeable anyhow, I doubt the audience will be nonplussed."

Lilia studied the instrument a moment longer before placing it back down in front of Victor. He immediately took a hold of the neck again, slowly putting it back in its case.

"They should not be." Her eyes turned to Yuuri, "You know that you do not need to wear your scarf in here?"

Yuuri started at being directly spoken to for the first time since walking onto the train. Despite Lilia's words, he curled into the scarf further.

"I know, I'm just... cold."

"It's a lot warmer in here than it is out there," One of the girls pointed out of the window, the snow blanketed scenery passing by quickly, "It's going to really bite if you're that bundled up now."

Yuuri only hummed in response, eyes dropping to the table. The fur tickled his nose, but he refused to move again, with every eye on him. The silence stretched on for long enough that Lilia turned away from him and walked back to her seat at the far end of the carriage, leaving Yuuri at the other musicians' will.

These girls were hungry and Yuuri might as well have been a sitting duck.

"So, where did you learn piano?"

"Where’s your family from?"

"How did you and Vera meet? Was it at a performance?"

"Do you and Vera write songs regularly? We could use some original music."

"What's your opinion on--"

"Where did you--"

"Lilia said th--"

"You sh--"

Yuuri wanted the floor to swallow him whole. None of the girls seemed to understand the concept of being 'shy' and how little he wanted to talk to them.

The voices got louder, and the rattling on the train wheels against the tracks seemed to be amplified along with the girls. Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, and was sure that if he opened them, everyone would be looming over him, sharks ready to attack at one wrong move.

He suddenly felt very dizzy, probably the train swerving on the wet tracks, nausea rolling in his stomach as he fought to stay upright. If he wasn't stuck between the train window and Victor, he would have bolted at the first chance, but as it was, he was stuck as the noise got louder, the fur around his neck got pricklier, and the bile in his throat rose higher. At least he wasn't crying.

Then a hand carefully took his wrist.

"Yuuri, I really need to go to the lavatory, but for the life of me, I can't remember where it is. Can you show me the way?"

Yuuri managed to crack his eyes open to see Victor standing up and tugging him gently away from the girls still overenthusiastic to pry into Yuuri's life. A truly perfect man , Yuuri sighed mentally, getting up as quickly as possible and striding towards the door towards the night carriage again.

Finding the women's toilets wasn't all that hard. They were at the end of the night cabin. Anyone in their right mind would have seen through Victor's request immediately, but to Yuuri, Victor might as well have been a Prince rescuing Yuuri's damsel self in that moment.

Sitting down on the bench by the sinks, Yuuri finally took off his scarf and tossed it to the side, bringing his knees to his chest as he tried to calm his heartbeat. Letting his head fall back against the wall, he stared at Victor, who looked back awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot until Yuuri raised his hands for Victor to take. He immediately sat in front of Yuuri, taking the proffered hands and rubbing circles across the knuckles with his thumbs.

"I know it's a lot right now, but I'll bet you anything these girls will calm down when we get to Miami. They're just cramped into a train carriage with new bait," He reassured, pitch dropping to what it usually was. The familiarity of it washed over Yuuri as he breathed.

"They are like sharks, aren't they?"

"Pointed teeth and all," Victor nodded, "Who knew girls could be so scary."

"I grew up with Yuuko, you'd think I'd know," Yuuri shook his head, "Musicians must be their own variety."

"Well, we are women musicians now. We've got to take a leaf from their book, act like them."

"Stick our noses in other people's business?"

"Exactly! Method acting." Victor laughed, dropping one of Yuuri's hands to point at him, "You're a girl. I'm a girl. We're just two girls, Vera and Yuuri, a violinist and a pianist, who joined a touring band at the last minute for an adventure across the country."

"What even are speakeasies?" Yuuri joked weakly.

"Right?! Although we do have that bottle of brandy we've simply got to get through, so we're not all that innocent," Victor winked, bringing his finger to his lips.

Yuuri took another deep breath, noticing the soft cotton of the dress, the solid press of the shoes, the smooth surface of the bench. He was a girl now. He could survive these girls' questions. He didn't know anything about illegal prohibition clubs.

He was safe.

Squaring his shoulders, he let his hand drop out of Victor's hold, turning to the mirror above the sink, glaring at the reflection. He could do this.

"I'm a girl," He said determinedly, watching Victor get up behind him as well. He saw before he felt Victor delicately fixing his wig and giving him his scarf back, "And I can face the women out there because I'm just another girl."

"That you can, Milaya," Victor hummed, and Yuuri had no time to wonder what he'd said in Russian before he was pushing on, "And we're going to go out there and show them that we deserve to be here."

When Yuuri walked back into the day carriage, it was with his head held high, ready for the sharks awaiting.

*

Miami was even warmer than expected, especially for February. Yuuri didn't even need his scarf.

They were all carted towards the hotel the moment they stepped off the train, a short walk from the station. Yuuri and Victor walked ahead, without the burden of heavy instruments, pointing at the strange new scenery that passed them by with wonder.

On the porch outside the entrance of the hotel sat a long line of men, the majority of them old things, all of them reading the Wall Street Times.

"So it's true," Victor whispered into Yuuri's ear, "Millionaires do migrate South in the winter."

Yuuri covered his snort with a cough, following behind Lilia up the steps to the entrance. He didn't fail to notice the way the newspapers all lowered as he passed, the old men ogling himself and his new bandmates.

Simply glowing in the fact he passed well enough as a woman to be ogled at all, he set his shoulders and continued to walk, a small smile adorning his face.

"You've really got into character," Victor hummed from beside him.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Yuuri smirked back, "I'm always like this."

Victor's face lit up in a bright grin, "You've got to try this method acting thing more regularly."

One millionaire, a younger one surprisingly, with hair that had to have been bleached blond, actually had the courage to put his newspaper down and sidle over to Lilia. Yuuri blinked, wondering if because the old men were into younger women, this man was the balance, the young man into older women.

"Lilia! I wasn't expecting to see you performing here right now," The man smirked, and Yuuri could imagine Lilia's face souring.

"Mr Giacommetti. How lovely."

Well, it seemed the two were acquainted. Odd acquaintances, sure, but Yuuri wasn't going to judge.

"Honestly, this is how you pay back contributors to the band? Disregarding to tell them where you're performing?" Giacommetti lifted his hand to his head, rivalling Victor in his melodramicness. 

"I rarely told my family about my performances before they died in the revolution, let alone contributors to the band who have less than honest intentions," Lilia sniffed, giving Chris an icy look.

"Ah, but I've done nothing you can prove to your lovely women yet! You still love me."

"As long as you stay away from my girls, Christophe, I have no qualms," Lilia stepped towards the register, effectively ending their conversation.

With her attention diverted, Christophe turned to the group of girls gathered behind Lilia, those with the heavier instruments still catching up. A few of them waved, a few of them shouting "Hi Chris!", but Christophe's eyes had caught onto Yuuri and Victor and didn't seem intent on shifting.

"You two are new?"

"Joined just yesterday, Mr Giacommetti," Yuuri nodded, eyes flicking to Lilia’s turned back before returning to the millionaire.

"Yesterday? Wow. And you mustn't call me Mr Giacommetti. To the girls here I'm just Chris."

"Oh, thank you, Mr- I mean, Chris," Yuuri looked over at Victor, who looked to be deep in thought, not paying any attention to the conversation. It seemed rude not to keep talking, with Chris still looking at him, "So how do you know Lilia?"

"Ah, we actually met in California a few years ago, on one of her tours of the country, and on one of my biannual trips to America. I'm a big fan of music, and well," Chris grinned, eyes glinting, "I happen to be the heir to the Credit Suisse Group. Paying for the band to continue was a no brainer."

"Biannual? You don't live in America?"

"No, ma cherie, I hail from Switzerland. It's simply beautiful this time of year, I'd be out skiing right now if it wasn't for my father's request that I start to get ready to take over the business," Chris rolled his eyes, setting his hand on his hip, "Although, I don't feel bad now that this lovely band is here!"

Lilia turned back to them, a group of room keys in her hand, "Right, Christophe, that is quite enough of you chatting up my girls. You'll see them around, now go back to flaunting your wealth somewhere else."

"I'm sure I'll be watching tonight," Chris winked, but stepped away, back towards the entrance, "Goodbye ladies!"

"Bye Chris!" Came the chorus, Yuuri waving too. With a final kiss blown to everyone, Chris disappeared out the door.

If Lilia could have clapped, she would have, but with the keys, she cleared her throat loud enough that all eyes turned back to her. Looking down at her clipboard, she began to read names and hand out keys, until she had one key left and only Yuuri and Victor remained in front of her.

"And you two will be in room 240. Remember, I expect the highest standards out of my musicians, so no funny business around the hotel, you understand?" At Yuuri's nod, she held the key out.

Taking the key - and Victor's hand, he still seemed to be out of it - Yuuri began towards the elevator, unsure what he should say, if he should say anything to comfort Victor with whatever was going on in his head.

They made it to the room, Yuuri opening the door while still holding Victor's hand, and glanced at the two twin beds, each with a suitcase the bellboy had already set out. So, it was empty, and should continue to be so. Good.

Victor seemed to be out of his catatonic state now, blinking at Yuuri's hand in his as if it were the most wonderful yet confusing thing. Yuuri tried to close the door quietly so as not to overwhelm him.

"Do you want to sit down?" Yuuri asked softly, slowly walking towards the closest bed as if Victor was going to bolt.

Victor didn't run. He sat with Yuuri, pressed against his side, their hands still together. In the quiet, Yuuri could hear the other girls in the room next door giggling wildly at something or other, and if he strained his hearing, the sound of the waves from the nearby beach were audible too. But none of those were important, because Victor had his head nestled on Yuuri's shoulder, as he stared at their hands. It was all Yuuri could do to keep his breathing regular, hoping it could be used as an anchor by Victor.

A minute passed in this silence before Yuuri reached his unoccupied hand up to remove his wig. The thing got in his mouth far too often to be comfortable, and he didn't need the façade in the privacy of the hotel room.

Placing his wig down carefully on the bed, he turned back to Victor, "Would you like to take your wig off?"

He received a noncommittal hum, which he took as affirmation to lift the platinum bob of hair off of Victor's head.

"Much better, right?"

This wasn't like when Yuuri panicked. Yuuri usually had ugly tears streaming down his face, or at least laboured breathing. He, for better or for worse, wore his emotions on his sleeve and it was obvious from a look at his face how he was feeling.

Victor though, had been blank, and still Yuuri couldn't tell anything from the look on his face. His natural hair fell over his left eye and nose with the way he was leaning on Yuuri's shoulder, so all Yuuri had to go off of was the small frown souring his lips.

"Do you want to talk about how you're feeling?" Yuuri asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.

A minute passed, Victor silent, although not for lack of trying. He opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, and even though Yuuri found it a little funny, Victor's frown got deeper each time he couldn't articulate his words.

Finally, when Yuuri settled with the fact Victor probably wanted quiet support while he rode out his emotions, Victor spoke.

"I thought this was going to be easy. Being a girl. Back when I had long hair, I would get mistaken as a woman a lot, in both Russia and America. I'd sometimes even dress up like them, steal a corset or two, but this..." Victor rubbed at his eyes, looking more tired than Yuuri had seen him in a long time, "I'm sorry. I'm meant to be the one that keeps face, and here I am getting emotional over the smallest thing."

"No," Yuuri took Victor's face, bringing it up to look at him, "You're allowed to have emotions. Frankly, I find it a little rude that you think that you're the strong one and I'm the emotional one."

Victor's eyes widened, immediately shaking his head feverishly, "No, that isn't what I meant at all! It's just... embarrassing."

Yuuri raised an eyebrow and Victor looked away and put his head back on his shoulder. It was quiet for another moment before Yuuri couldn't help but ask.

"What's embarrassing?"

"You've been so in your element since we got off the train. You're a natural at this woman thing! And I'm not," Victor shrugged, an odd feat with one of his shoulders pressed into Yuuri's side, "You don't know how scared I am that we've already been figured out, or someone is close to figuring out, and are going to kick us out of the band, or arrest us."

"Oh Victor," Yuuri smiled softly, squeezing Victor's hand, "You think I'm not afraid of that as well? I'm terrified! But as a good man once said, one of us has to be the strong one, one of us has to be the emotional one."

Victor snorted, smacking Yuuri's side lightly, "I did not say that."

"A good man implied it then."

Victor looked up, a pout adorning his face. Yuuri was sure he could see his own mirth filled eyes reflected in Victor's clear blue ones, and it took no time for a smile to break across both of their faces.

"You look so beautiful when you smile," Victor murmured after a moment, although his eyes stayed locked onto Yuuri's. 

"Oh my god, stop. I do not." Yuuri could feel his face flushing.

"Yuuri! The correct response is, 'thank you Victor, so do you'."

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but obliged, "Thank you Victor, your smile makes the sun seem dim."

"Are you saying my teeth are blinding?"

"Victor! You're beautiful, okay?"

"Tell me something I don't know, Yuuri," Victor grinned, a lopsided, bright eyed grin, one of the ones that just looking at it made Yuuri feel warm inside, but didn't stop him from pushing away Victor for the witty response.

A knock at the door broke him out of his reverie.

"Vera, Yuuri!" Josephine yelled through the door, "We're all going down to the beach to have a swim before the performance tonight, you should come too!"

Yuuri and Victor glanced at each other before looking back at the door.

"We don't have any swimsuits!" Victor called back in his Vera voice.

"Oh don't worry, the indoor pool downstairs have some we can borrow. They have little skirts sewn into them and everything!"

The thought of himself in a swimming costume had Yuuri's mind cringing, especially with his breasts actually being made of tissue paper. If they got wet they'd feel horrible.

But Victor's eyes were absolutely shining when Yuuri looked back at him. If Yuuri didn't want to swim, who was he to stop Victor?

"I'm not really up to swimming today, but I'll join you on the beach if Vera wants to go along," Yuuri called back. Apparently though, it was the wrong thing to say, as Victor's face dropped while Yuuri spoke. 

"Ah, I won't go if Yuuri's not up to it. You go on without us!"

"If you two are sure! We'll tell you about all the millionaires we meet on the beach!" Giggling fading, Yuuri looked away from the door to Victor, frowning.

"You looked excited at the idea of going to the beach. I want you to have fun, you know?"

"It'll be boring without you there," Victor whined, flopping down onto the bed behind him, in a petty attempt at sulking.

It was stupidly adorable.

"What time are we performing tonight?" He asked instead of thinking about why he had just thought Victor was stupidly adorable. It wasn't like it the first time it had happened.

"Nine till eleven thirty... why?"

"What time does the pool close?"

"Ten, probably. That's when all the other public activities close," Victor sighed, "So if you're thinking of swimming, we won't be able to today."

Yuuri smiled to himself, flopping down next to Victor, "Not if we sneak in after it's closed."

Victor blinked at him, lips parting in surprise. His lack of immediate positive reaction made Yuuri backtrack.

"Well, I know it is kinda dumb. We just joined the band and we're already breaking the rules Lilia set, so--" Yuuri looked down at his hands, beginning to mess with his fingers as he rambled.

But then a hand placed itself atop of Yuuri's, and when he looked back at Victor, the man's eyes were positively sparkling.

"Yuuri! Where did this rule breaking attitude come from?"

Yuuri laughed genuinely, the warmth of Victor's hand emboldening him, "It's the method acting. Very good for me, it does wonders."

"All my ideas are very good, thank you very much," Victor smirked, "So what time are you thinking? Midnight, after Lilia expects us to be asleep?"

"That would probably be best."

"Oh, Yuuri, I'm so excited!! Look at you being so thoughtful," Victor beamed, "Why didn't I think of this method acting thing sooner?!"

*

Victor was unfairly beautiful in the swimming costume he'd stolen.

Yuuri had stolen one too, but no way was he as pretty as Victor was, giggling as he splashed around Yuuri in the pool.

It was dark, being closed and all, but the moonlight filtering through the floor to ceiling windows was enough illumination to make it appear that Victor was glowing .

Neither of them had their wigs or bras on, and their makeup had either been rubbed off when they got to the room after the performance, or washed off in the pool. They were both perfectly masculine, bar the swimming costumes.

Yet Victor still looked positively enchanting.

"Yuuri! Yuuri, count how long I can hold my breath for!"

Yuuri decided that, right now, it didn't matter how they'd ended up in this situation, he wouldn't change it for the world. If time froze at this moment, he wouldn't complain a bit.

"Yuuri, you're too cute when you're lost in thought, but I really wanna see if I can hold my breath for ten minutes!"

*

Of course, time cannot freeze. 

Yuuri began to let his mind wander as My Valentine transitioned into One Step At A Time. Well, since his and Victor's adventure to the pool a week ago, his mind had been all over the place, which was never helpful. When Yuuri's mind was elsewhere, he was bound to make mistakes.

Usually, this helped him focus on the performance at hand, honing in on the notes on the page before him, and for the past week he'd managed a steady performance, but tonight was a night where not even his piano could avert his thoughts.

Luckily, Yuuri had made it through so far. Two hours in, half an hour left to go, then he could get off the stage and curl up in bed, where he'd probably spend the night dreaming about Victor.

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat, ducking his head and staring at the piano keys intently as he continued to play. It was embarrassing, how wrapped up in his head he'd been since the pool.

And before then too. The sound of Victor's laugh had infected Yuuri's dreams since they were children, the way Victor decided to roll up the hem of his trousers had become a common practice for Yuuri after he'd moved in. Hell, Victor always had Yuuri sighing fondly whenever he asked for tea, Yuuri automatically reaching for the jam to stir into the older man's drink.

It was odd. The last time he'd felt like this about a person was with Yuuko.

...

Oh.

Oh no.

He had a crush on Victor.

But that couldn't be right! Victor was a man, and Yuuri was a man, that wasn't how love worked!

Maybe it was because he'd seen Victor as a woman, and his stupid brain had mistaken him as an actual woman and made these feelings arise.

Maybe it was because Yuuri had been method acting as a woman, and his stupid brain had mistaken he himself as an actual woman and made these feelings arise when he saw Victor without his wig on. 

Or maybe Yuuri had always thought Victor was stupidly handsome, ever since he stepped foot into Yutopia back in 1917. Yuuri had always brushed it off as an admiration, for Victor to be someone to look up to, being four years his senior.

But Yuuri lived with Victor now, and had lived with him for the last six years, he'd seen Victor at his best and worst, and he still found him endearing. He still ran with Victor's stupid ideas, like joining a woman's band to escape mobsters.

Oh dear.

He'd always had a crush on Victor. Recent events just forced him to accept it.

He hit the wrong note on the piano, wincing at the out of place sound. He couldn't think about his feelings for Victor right now, he was performing to a live crowd.

That didn't help at all!

Without looking up, he could feel eyes burning into the back of his skull. The audience, Lilia, the girls, Victor , they were all judging him and they were going to kick him out of the band if he didn't pull himself together--

He needed to breathe. Breathe, and focus on the sheet music until the notes stopped blurring. Take his hands off the keys for a second.

Could he really be one of the homosexuals ridiculed by the media? He'd definitely had a crush on Yuuko when he was younger, and Yuuri thought homosexuals only liked men?

Surely, since he had liked a woman at one point, this was completely normal? Perhaps every person felt some attraction to their own gender, they just knew that it was right to fall in love with the opposite.

Yes, that made sense.

Another breath, and the keys in front of him stopped wobbling. Taking a second to catch up on the sheet, Yuuri exhaled and continued to play.

He would be fine. He didn't need to tell Victor about these... unnatural thoughts, and they could continue to be friends. Yuuri would find a girl one day to settle down with, and Victor the same, and his feelings for the other man would fade.

Yuuri thought about his life, completely packed into his suitcase in his room. His fingers trembled, but he continued to play. If he could survive running from the Chicago mafia and dressing up as a woman, he could survive liking Victor.

Surprisingly, that was what calmed him the most. He'd survived so far, and faced far worse, and he was still alive.

Yuuri had his whole life packed into his suitcase upstairs. He had all the time and resources to continue paving his path onwards.

He'd inevitably move on from his crush on Victor, as he'd done with Yuuko. He had time.

One Step At A Time came to its end, the string section immediately beginning Love Me when the final note rang out.

At eleven thirty, the night ended with When The Rest of the Crowd Goes Home (I Go Home Alone). With the audience's applause still loud in his ears, Yuuri closed the piano lid and turned to see Victor shut his violin case and grin at Yuuri.

Yuuri did not feel like sticking around to hear if Lilia had caught his slip up (she most definitely had). He didn't particularly want to wait around for Victor either, his newly discovered crush still fresh. Walking to their room together would feel like rubbing salt into a wound.

So he slipped off the stage without so much as a smile in Victor's direction and began his way to the elevator alone.

As was with Yuuri's luck, he was interrupted as the elevator door was closing, an expensive looking shoe sticking itself through, followed by the rest of the millionaire that had spoken to Yuuri on the first day, Chris.

"Oh, Yuuri!" The man clapped Yuuri's shoulder, causing him to stumble a little. Chris didn't seem to notice, "Excellent performance as always!"

"... Thank you."

Chris obviously hadn't been there for Yuuri's slip up. Yuuri had seen the millionaire at every performance since the band had started at the hotel, although never for the consecutive two and a half hours. He'd always share a table with the same man, who didn't particularly look like a millionaire himself, but who was Yuuri to judge. He didn't exactly look like a man himself.

"It's such a shame it's the last time I will hear you perform, at least until later in the year," Chris sighed as the elevator began to rise, "And that's even if Lilia tells me where she's performing."

"You're leaving?"

"All my business in America has been done!" Chris exclaimed before lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Truly, I should have been gone a week ago. I just couldn't bear the chance of missing Lilia and the girls."

"I feel like I'm meant to thank you again."

Chris laughed at the slight, "Truly, it only means that I'm cutting my vacation to Rio down by a week."

"Coming to Florida wasn't vacation enough?" Yuuri grinned despite himself.

"If I'm in America for business, why wouldn't I want to take a two week break to relax after? In such a beautiful city too," Chris hummed, like Yuuri had the luxury of travelling to a different country for business then to another for leisure as well, "My crew are happy to stay in Florida for another week before we travel South, anyhow."

"Your crew?"

"I'm travelling down by yacht! It felt like a waste to bring it all the way out here to just sit at the beach."

Yuuri chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Out of everyone new on this trip, he hadn't expected to talk easiest with a millionaire that could probably buy and sell every piano Yuuri had ever practised and performed on without leaving a dent in his pocket.

"An unorthodox way to travel, sure, but I don't know if I would expect anything else out of you now, Chris," He nodded, more to himself than Chris, before the elevator stopped, "Ah, this is my floor. It was lovely to speak with you again."

"You are lovely company, Yuuri. I hope to meet you again," Chris bowed as he watched Yuuri step out of the lift. Rolling his eyes, Yuuri grinned and waved as the doors closed.

He made it back to his room, starting to get ready for bed in the quiet. Just as his mind began to wander, something Chris had managed to curb in the short minute they were together, the door opened, Victor stepping in.

Before Yuuri could duck into the bathroom, Victor took off his wig, tossing it beside where Yuuri's was laid, and placed his hand on Yuuri's shoulder, effectively stopping him on the threshold of the bathroom.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The question was deceptively ambiguous, but Yuuri knew what he meant. Such a simple question, but it still made him pause.

Finally he settled on a quiet "No."

"That's fine," Victor sighed, moving finally to sit on his bed, "I'm not annoyed, you know, just confused? You've seemed kind of out of it for the past few days but tonight you messed up onstage, and I just want to help, Yuuri."

Yuuri stood at the door of the bathroom for another second, before he sighed and walked over to Victor's suitcase. Victor watched silently as Yuuri rooted through the clothes to get to the bottom of the pile, where the bottle of brandy was buried.

"Drowning your feelings in alcohol?" Victor teased quietly.

"Drowning our feelings in alcohol," Yuuri corrected, collecting two glasses from the bathroom and filling them, offering Victor one, "Let's both be the emotional ones tonight."

"Again, I never meant it like that," Victor pouts, sipping at his drink while Yuuri took a gulp, feeling it burn down his throat, "Woah, are you good there?"

"I'm drowning my sorrows," Yuuri grimaced, "Come on, think of something sad to drown away too! I can't be alone here."

Rolling his eyes, Victor grinned and raised his cup in a toast towards Yuuri, "To being called dead by your mother! Cheers!"

He downed the rest of his glass before the words could sink into Yuuri's brain.

"... What?!"

"Give me more brandy," Victor raised his glass, looking Yuuri dead in the eye, "If we're talking about this, I'm not going to be sober."

So began their drunk heart-to-heart.

They ended up lying on Victor's bed, Yuuri half lying on top of Victor, wiping his tears as they slipped from his eyes. He was too far gone to care about the compromising position he was in with his recently discovered crush, but he'd probably still remember the majority of the night in the morning.

"Yakov and I escaped the Russian revolution. You know this," Victor said, eyes glassy, "But we left Lilia back there."

"How come?" Yuuri asked gently. As long as he wasn't drunkenly confessing, this was safe territory.

"Yakov and Lilia weren't happy," Victor sniffed, reaching for his brandy again and taking a messy sip. Yuuri watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. "Yakov didn't want Lilia to come with us. Left without her."

"That's... sad," Yuuri managed to take his eyes away from Victor's throat, "But when did she say you were dead?"

"When we first got here," A new wave of tears shone in Victor's eyes, "Lilia said to that millionaire that her family died in the revolution. We never died. I left a note and everything!"

"Oh, Victor," Yuuri pat Victor's chest sympathetically, "It's not your fault. You left a note."

"I left a note," Victor said feebly, "It's not my fault the revolution started."

"Of course not," Yuuri leaned over to grab his glass, only to find it empty. He pouted, picking up Victor's half full one instead, taking a sip and giggling to himself.

"What's so funny?" Victor mumbled.

"I just..." Yuuri trailed off, realising that admitting to the indirect kiss might make Victor feel uncomfortable, "Nevermind, it's too hot in here."

He sat up, pulling his dress off before flopping back onto Victor. Before he could think that maybe being in only his underwear might be more uncomfortable for Victor than sharing a glass, the older man snorted to himself, wrapping his hands around Yuuri's hips to sit up too, taking his dress off before lying back down.

"I'm really glad I have you, Yuuri," He smiled softly, "You're the only person I can trust to just be... you."

"Mmm... You're the only other person that gets me Victor." Yuuri hummed, arms coming to wrap around Victor as well, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Victor mumbled something into Yuuri's hair, something Yuuri couldn't understand, but he didn't bring it up. Instead, he let the night and the late hour crash around him, eyes drooping as he drifted off.

*

Yuuri blinked, his head pounding and cheek squashed on Victor's chest. Ah, this was just a continuation of his dream then. The two of them had gotten drunk, and ended up cuddling in bed.

His arms curled around dream-Victor tighter in an attempt to curb his headache. In response, dream-Victor shifted, allowing Yuuri to rest his head deeper into dream-Victor's... suspiciously solid... pecs.

This wasn't a dream, was it.

Yuuri was up so quick he fell off the bed. Honestly, it was surprising he hadn't fallen off earlier, the bed was absolutely tiny, he and Victor had been lying on top of each other to fit.

The fall only made his headache worse, and he groaned as he picked himself up and dragged himself to the bathroom. Victor was still dead to the world, a sign of how much alcohol he had downed last night.

Yuuri grimaced at his image in the mirror, smudged lipstick and patchy foundation sneering back at him. That was going to do wonders for his skin.

Taking a cloth, he began scrubbing at his face, gulping handfuls of water to lessen the putrid taste in his mouth left over from last night's alcohol.

Speaking of last night's booze, the general gist of what happened was coming back to him. Victor confessing about Lilia. Yuuri managing to not spill his crush. The indirect kiss. Lying on Victor's chest...

No! Stop it! Yuuri chastised himself, looking back at the mirror. A splodgy pink face squinted back.

"I'm a boy," Yuuri muttered, listening to his low voice, "I'm a boy. I can't be like this. I'm a boy."

"Can't be like what?" Victor's drowsy voice echoed through the bathroom.

Yuuri jumped to attention, watching Victor move behind him for a few seconds. "I can't keep running from my problems by using alcohol."

Victor snorted unbecomingly, leaning his chin on Yuuri's shoulder. To Yuuri's credit, he didn't flinch. "True that. My mouth is sooo dry."

Yuuri chuckled as Victor groaned, "You're lucky that's all. I almost threw up when I woke up. A dry mouth is nothing."

"Perks of being Russian," Victor smirked, before pouting at his reflection, "I look disgusting."

He too had smeared makeup, his eyeliner smudged and lipstick streaked down his chin. He still looked adorably charming.

Maybe, Yuuri pondered, maybe having these thoughts wasn't so bad. It was just his mind complimenting Victor, after all. If Yuuri knew he'd move on eventually, there was no point in fruitlessly forcing them down.

"Very true. It's giving a raccoon that got into the hospital's blood supply," Yuuri nodded, rinsing out the cloth he'd been using and handing it to Victor, who squawked at the jab.

Moving back to the main room and closing the bathroom door behind him, Yuuri sighed to himself. The clock on the wall read one thirty, much later than he would usually wake up, especially with Victor dragging him out of bed to explore Miami before the performance each night.

Tugging on a dark blue dress, he let the soft cotton swish around his legs for a moment before pulling on his stockings and shoes. Glancing out the window, he winced as the bright sunlight burnt his eyes, the hangover still overwhelming his senses.

"Can we not go out today? The sun needs to turn off before I step outside," He called, blinking away from the window and sitting on his perfectly made bed.

He heard Victor laugh, "Sure thing. The water in the basin was way too loud, no way a motor car would be much better. What do you want to do instead?"

"I'm already dressed, so we could stay around the hotel. See what activities they have during the day."

"Oh, I did see a drawing class that was on at three! I could take my violin to be memorialised in paint forever," A quiet room of artists? Sounded perfect to Yuuri, "I'm just shaving at the moment though, could you get the pink dress out for me to wear?"

"Isn't that your favourite of Mari's dresses? You sure you want to ruin it with paint?" Yuuri asked, but got up anyway and started to shift through Victor's suitcase.

"Pssh, I'll be fine," Yuuri could imagine Victor waving about his razor as he spoke, "I haven't been able to mess up any of Mari's dresses too badly yet. There's a cleaners here, and I'm sure she'll survive if one or two have paint on them when we give them back."

Yuuri finally found the dress, setting it out on Victor's bed. Truly, Mari had never worn it, said the pink wasn't her colour. She probably wasn't missing it, and likely wasn't missing the majority of the dresses they'd taken, as she'd always preferred trousers for movement around the inn.

He wondered how she'd felt, finding half of her wardrobe gone overnight, along with her brother and his roommate, without so much as a note goodbye. Now that he thought about it, there was no way that couldn't have seemed a little queer, without context.

No matter, this was the only thing we could do. Enough thinking about Mari, Yuuri mentally chastised himself, huffing as he found his makeup for the day.

"Right! I need the mirror again."

"I'm not finished!"

"You've got your compact."

"Not for shaving ," Victor grumbled, "You use it."

"My hands are too shaky."

The bathroom door swung open, "Just get in here, Katsuki. We'll share ."

"Why thank you, Nikiforov. I didn't know you were so thoughtful." The two of them stared at each other for a moment before dissolving into laughter. Yuuri squeezed in next to Victor, glancing at him for a moment before starting to apply foundation. 

Standing in front of the mirror, side by side, Yuuri dared to let himself call it 'domestic'. Him doing his makeup, arm pressed against Victor's as he shaved.

If Yuuri really had been a woman, they could have had this everyday, until death did them part.

But the thought soured in Yuuri's chest. Yes, he would have loved a life like this, but he couldn't let such frivolous ideas wander his mind. He might start getting used to it.

He quietly wished he had been allowed to get used to it.

*

Victor hummed to himself, swinging his violin case by his side as the two of them stepped out of the elevator. Yuuri wasn't really sure what had had him in such a good mood since they'd stepped out of their room, but he wasn't complaining. Hell, it could be the dress for all Yuuri knew. It didn't really matter, as long as Victor was happy. 

Eyes scanning over the hotel entrance for signs towards the art class, his eyes were drawn to a new banner that hadn't been there the night before. 'Welcome Friends of the Italian Opera!' was written in bold letters. 

Yuuri hummed to himself. Those friends must be pretty important, their band hadn't got a banner. Perhaps these opera folks would be performing at a different time of the day if they were to be celebrated that much. 

"Yuuri," He jumped at the low voice in his ear, eyes turning away from the banner to Victor, whose mood had seemed to have dropped dramatically to Yuuri's alarm, "Don't look now, but those mafia guys from Chicago are here." 

" What? " Yuuri hissed, shoulders squaring. 

"They're behind us, at check-in," Victor muttered. Yuuri dared a glance back, catching a glimpse of the dickie bows and spats before Victor slapped his arm, "I said don't look ."

"Sorry," Yuuri murmured, rubbing his arm.

"We've gotta get out of here," Victor was already walking back towards the elevator, face angled away from the mobsters in an inconspicuous way. 

"But, Lilia, the band--" Yuuri fumbled to catch up, messing with his wig in a way that covered his face. 

"Mean nothing if we're dead! " Victor whispered back, holding the elevator doors long enough for Yuuri to step in. The bellboy blinked, but didn't say a thing. 

Yuuri scrambled for their key, ready to bolt to their room, grab everything and leave. Just as the door began to close again, a single foot stepped in. 

A single foot, clad in spats. 

The leader, Spats, led a group into the escalator behind him, who, Yuuri realised in dawning horror, were all present at the valet. If Yuuri had thought the girls on the train were sharks, these men were starving lions and Yuuri was a piece of meat dropped in the corner of a stadium, especially with the way the men were staring at him and Victor. 

"Ladies!" One of them, well into his fifties if Yuuri had to guess, grinned with too much tooth, "What brings you to this hotel?"

Yuuri looked at Victor. Victor looked at Yuuri. 

"Not pleasure," Victor ended up laughing stiffly, "Work."

"I don't know you two broads do I?" The man leered closer. Yuuri pressed back further into Victor's side, "You ever been to Chicago?"

"Chicago?" Victor shook his head quickly, "You wouldn't find either of us dead there!"

The man frowned, glancing at the key gripped in Yuuri's hand. Before he could react, the man grabbed it, looking at the number before handing it back, "Maybe I'll visit the two of you later tonight. Then we'll know each other very well."

Yuuri's mouth dried up as Victor's turned up into a sickly sweet smile, "We're not here for pleasure though, sir." 

The elevator stopped abruptly at the floor below Victor and Yuuri's. The door opened slowly, and Yuuri felt he could finally breathe as the group left. 

"There's a pillar right next to the balcony we can climb down," Victor started planning out loud as soon as the doors shut.

"Where would we go after that though? We have no money and no-one to hide with," Yuuri shook his head. 

Victor groaned, tugging the hair in his wig, "We can't be pessimistic. We… figure it out as we go?"

"That's just begging for us to be caught."

"I don't hear you coming up with any better ideas!" Victor snapped, Yuuri flinching at the sudden shift.

"I'm trying to be reasonable, V-" Yuuri's eyes shifted to the bellboy, who looked like he was trying desperately to dutifully ignore their conversation. Oh, who cared. Victor and he hadn't been speaking in the 'female' voices anyway. "Victor. Either way, we get caught and die. The only difference is one leaves us starving as we die as well." 

"And also potentially finding an escape from the country! What else is there to do?" 

Yuuri stayed silent as the elevator stopped on their floor, pushing himself out before the doors opened fully. Messing with the key in his hand, he let his mind flick through options. They could convince another room of girls to swap with them, but that would mean those girls would get assaulted by that old mafia man, and it would be impossible to dodge the men for the rest of their stay in the hotel. 

Getting into the room, he immediately went over to the balcony to check the pillar Victor had mentioned. The view from outside the room was lovely, overlooking the beach, but that wasn't what Yuuri honed in on. By some miracle, he noticed something in the water. 

"Chris!" Yuuri yelled, turning back to the room. A plethora of yachts were docked in the sea. 

Victor looked up from where he was pulling their suitcases out from under the beds, "What? The millionaire from the first night?" 

"He's leaving today! And he's going by yacht. The mafia won't be tracing it. He's going to Rio then back to Switzerland," Yuuri grabbed the first dresses he saw, throwing them into the cases, "He's our way out!" 

"What makes you think he'd take us? Or that he hasn't left already?" 

Yuuri sighed, trying not to let Victor's irritability rub off on him, "It's better than just running. Who's being pessimistic now?" 

"How do you suppose we find him then? We can't go out like this again," Victor gestured to the two of them. 

"You packed your suits, I know you did." 

"And how is Chris meant to recognise us then?"

"We aren't shapeshifters, Victor." 

Yuuri pushed his way into the bathroom, grabbing the cloth and scrubbing at his face. At the same time, he snatched up their toothbrushes and razors, along with the travel sized body washes from the hotel. Stuffing them all into his toiletries bag, he returned back to the bedroom, where Victor was buttoning up his blazer, wig in hand.

"I'm keeping the wig on me, just in case."

"You're going to bake in that."

"It's still February."

"February in Miami." 

"Yuuri," Victor took a deep breath, levelling Yuuri with a serious look, "If we die, I don't want to die being annoyed at you. We're going to find Chris. If that doesn't work, we run. Yes?"

"... Yes."

Victor smiled softly, taking Yuuri's hand slowly, "We're on the same page, good. Whatever happens, we'll be together."

Yuuri exhaled, "Okay."

"Okay. Now get dressed into something more masculine! No more Vera, no more Yuuri with a different kanji spelling! Just Yuuri and Victor against the world, like it always has been," Victor squeezed his hand before letting it go and dashing to the bathroom to take off his makeup. 

The two of them were back in the lobby in two minutes. 

Not a drop of femininity rolled off either of them, shoulders as square as their clenched jaws, concealing the dresses tucked under their pressed suits. It was so warm, Yuuri mentally groaned. 

Suitcases held tightly in their hands, they pushed through the lobby. Each step they took, Yuuri couldn't help but be hyper-focused on the tap of his shoes on the beige tile. While they'd been a blessing at the start of the trip, Yuuri didn't have any shoes other than Mari's heels.

Maybe his focus on the shoes had been too obvious, because the sudden shout of, "The Chicago guys, over there! One's got woman's shoes on!" Took a moment too long to process in his mind. Victor's hand wrapped around his arm and he was being pulled before he could realise he needed to run. 

Another hand wrapped around his other arm, and in a moment of panic, Yuuri swung his suitcase directly into the person's face. Not giving them time to recover, he began dashing with Victor towards the exit. 

Two bodies stepped in the way of the door before they could make it, forcing the two of them to turn back the way they had come and return to the belly of the beast. The Hotel de Coronado had become their personal monster. 

Following Victor, Yuuri barely saw the sign for the art class before they burst into the room. 

The silent class all looked up simultaneously, blinking at the two owlishly. Yuuri recognised Josephine and Daphne first and ran up to them, pushing his suitcase into their arms. 

"Could you hold this for me? Thanks!" He gave neither time to respond before rushing towards the backdoor, pushing it open while Victor pushed his case into Josephine's arms. 

As the door swung shut behind them, he heard the mafia bursting through the door they'd just come through. Pushing himself to keep running, he let Victor pass him and begin pulling him along again. Running in heels was harder than it looked.

A long hall met them, with one room at the end, marked 'Kitchens'. Pushing through the door, a cake big enough to fit a person inside stood directly in the way, but Yuuri had no time to dwell on such a thing as Victor kept tugging him along. 

Out of the kitchens, the two were met with an empty room, and Yuuri managed to take in the shoe-horse set up of tables and three doors, one of which they'd dashed through to get in, and the dreaded 'Welcome Friends of the Italian Opera!' banner before one of the doors began opening. With nowhere else to run, Victor's hand, still on Yuuri's arm, dragged him underneath one of the tables, a long tablecloth covering them. 

They were hidden at least, from the mobsters who'd been chasing them, and whoever was entering the room. At least there was that. 

The space began to fill, men's voices chatting in clipped tones as they sat at the tables. The feet that pushed themselves under the tablecloth next to Victor's head were adorned in spats. 

Yuuri swore under his breath, clutching onto Victor's arm while Victor held his violin to his chest and bowed his head, figure shaking for a second before he stilled and placed his hand atop Yuuri's in a lackluster show of support. It's going to be fine , he lied. 

The room abruptly fell silent as a single chair shifted, and Yuuri didn't need to peek out the tablecloth to guess that the leader of the US mafia had just stood up at the head of the horseshoe. 

"Gentlemen!" A rough southern accent called, followed by a jovial clap, "It's lovely to see you all could make it today. Especially you, Spats." 

A laugh came from directly above where Victor and Yuuri knelt, "How could I miss such an important meeting? You called it urgent, Paradise." 

"That I did," The leader hummed, "You see..." 

Yuuri let Paradise's speech fade into the background as he leaned his head on Victor's shoulder, heart pounding in his chest. None of it computed in his mind.

He was so young. Victor was so young. 

Yuuri's last goodbye to his family was of him stealing his sister's dresses. 

His heart continued to pound and his eyes refused to water.

Fuck it. If they were found they were dead anyway. 

"Victor, we're not going to make it out of here alive," Yuuri breathed, barely audible, moving his head to look his best friend in the face.

Victor, for what it was worth, tried to keep his face neutral, but Yuuri could tell from the twitch in his brow he knew it too. Still, pressed tightly against each other's sides, Victor shook his head vehemently.

"No, Yuuri, we can't get anxious now. We made it this far! We can still get out of here and... hope Chris is still here..." He whispered back, clutching onto Yuuri's arm.

"Victor, I'm not panicking," Yuuri smiled, and for once, he wasn't. An eerie sense of peace washed over him as he held the hand on his arm. He was numb, he realised, "But since we're dying tonight... I'm really sorry if this is too forward, but let me believe in love again, even just for a moment. Let me kiss you?"

There was a second, a brief moment in time where Yuuri regretted the words, but then Victor moved, or he moved, or both of them moved, and their lips crashed together. As far as first kisses went, it was barely romantic, chaste and messy in a last desperate attempt at happiness, but to Yuuri, it was perfect.

They broke apart all too soon, Yuuri pressing his forehead to Victor's, feeling a wetness on his cheek. Raising a hand to wipe his tears, Yuuri was met with a dry eye. It took him a moment to realise that it was Victor crying. 

It was as if the numbness blanketing Yuuri's brain was shredded apart immediately, the way his panic returned full force, directed only at Victor.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I never meant to make you cry. I know it's weird, wanting to kiss another man. Oh god, you probably felt pressured, I'm sorry--"

"Shut up, Yuuri," Victor smiled, "I've wanted this for so long."

"You have?"

"I have," Victor nodded, looking down at the floor, "I just wish we had more time together."

Yuuri blinked, taking in the words. Victor was attracted to him too? Surely that couldn't be right. Surely...

But Victor looked sincere. His eyes shone with such genuineness that Yuuri had to pause that train of thought. Perhaps, if they had had more time, they could have worked something out. Lived together... loved each other.

Yuuri sighed silently, derailing those thoughts as well. "I hope, wherever we end up, I end up with you."

Victor took his face in his hand, kissing him again, "So do I."

As they separated, the room suddenly lost all its light. Yuuri worried for a moment that they'd been discovered, but he still felt Victor warm beside him, and decided they couldn't be dead yet. 

Instead, the room began... singing? 

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Spats... Happy birthday to you! For he's a jolly good fella," The room crowed as the sound of something rolling into the room was heard. The large cake, perhaps? 

The room continued singing, Victor leaning his head against Yuuri's as it progressed, taking his hand and running a comforting pattern across Yuuri's palm as their last moments approached. The warm feeling Yuuri got from Victor's smile radiated through his body again, as he realised this was an acceptable way to die.

Just as the room began their second round of the song, a loud burst of what could only be bullets - Yuuri remembered the sound vividly from his first encounter - rang out directly above where Yuuri and Victor were knelt. In a moment, Yuuri's fingers were crushed in Victor's hand as they both tensed. 

I hope, wherever we end up, I end up with him. 

Yuuri scrunched up his eyes, waiting for the bite of the bullets to hit any second. His heart thumped uncomfortably, and he was sure it was only the clamp of Victor's hand that was keeping him grounded. 

Yuuri's heart... continued to beat uncomfortably. Victor's hand only tightened around his. 

Yuuri cracked his eyes open, feeling the tiled floor beneath him. He glanced to the side, seeing Victor's outline beside him, still upright and breathing. 

It didn't miss his attention the way the tablecloth next to Victor was staining even darker in the low light though. Yuuri didn't think that was wine.

Victor, with his absolutely perfect capability to keep composure even at such a paralysing time, noticed their chance at that moment, grabbing Yuuri's hand more securely and pulled him up.

"Come on, this is our chance to get out!"

They were out of the room the way they'd come before any of the mafia members left alive could comprehend that two bodies had materialised from under the table and were running from them. Yuuri swore he heard Paradise shout for someone to follow them as they dashed away, but no-one came. Yuuri didn't let himself wonder why. 

Hands still clasped, Victor tore through the lobby, ignoring the disgruntled cry from guests milling around, and didn't stop running when he got outside. If Yuuri hadn't been running on the same adrenaline Victor was, he would have complained about the way his ankles rolled in his heels as they dashed down the stairs. 

"Where are we going?" 

"Anywhere away from here!" Victor turned his head as he continued running, glancing at Yuuri with a small smile, "I want to savour every moment I have with you."

Perhaps when teachers tell you in elementary school to not run with closed eyes held some merit, because as soon as Victor finished his sentence, he collided with a figure, sending all three of them tumbling onto the sandy ground. The figure was a woman. The woman was Lilia.

Of course, out of every person in Miami, they just had to run into Lilia while they were in masculine attire and trying to run away. Yuuri prayed Lilia didn't recognise them, but his previous words rattled around his mind as the three of them stood up and dusted themselves off. 

We aren't shapeshifters. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Victor smiled plastically, purposefully lowering his voice, as if he didn't still have his dress tucked under his suit. He subtly pushed his violin behind his back.

Lilia narrowed her eyes, and Yuuri couldn't tell if he was sweating bullets because of her stare, the temperature, or the fact that he and Victor weren't moving quickly away from the hotel. It was probably all three. 

"What are you two in such a rush from?" 

"Ah, nothing nothing," Victor waved her off, "What's so wrong with two young men going on a little run?"

"Nothing, I suppose," Lilia conceded, but her stare did not lessen, "Although, if you were on the run, I do happen to have a friend with a yacht you could use." 

Victor and Yuuri glanced at each other. She knew. She knew and she was... helping them? 

"That would be immensely helpful, miss." 

"I'll telephone him from the hotel now then," Lilia began moving, "Better get going to the pier. He and his companion leave soon."

Companion..? Victor mouthed, Yuuri shrugging as Lilia passed him.

"Oh," She stopped abruptly, "And don't wait so long to write again, Victor. That little note was never enough." 

She continued walking as if she had said nothing, leaving the two of them gaping behind her. Yuuri, recovering first, reached for Victor's arm again, pulling him towards the pier as Lilia told them to. 

"Thank you, Lilia!" 

"You heard what I said, Yuuri, move it."  

The pier was a small one, with a crowd of speedboats on each side. Yuuri spotted Chris quickly, in an expensive looking boat with the same man who'd accompanied him to dinner each night. 

"Chris!" He yelled, waving as he and Victor descended the steps to the water. Chris looked up, waving, "Lilia said she'd call you?" 

"Ah yes," Chris smirked, "Said two of her lovely women turned into two lovely men and needed a getaway." 

"You don't know how much you're helping us," Yuuri sighed, stepping into the back of the boat (The speedboat had front and back seats!)

"Anything for two beauties," Chris winked. Victor pouted, grabbing Yuuri's hand in clear view of Chris. 

But Chris just laughed jovially, keying the ignition, "You two, meet Masumi. A dear friend of mine." 

"Lovely to meet you, Masumi," Victor nodded, "I'm Victor, this is Yuuri, my own dear friend." 

Yuuri felt his face heating, turning to stare out to the sea instead of letting Victor see how his smooth words affected him, but he let his hand shift in Victor's to intertwine their fingers. Victor squeezed his hand and Yuuri felt himself grin. 

"You two are going to be staying in Masumi's room," Chris informed them as they neared a modest sized yacht, "The staff won't question it, don't worry."

"Ah, they're used to it by now, are they?" Victor's voice, despite his apparent annoyance at Chris hitting on Yuuri a moment ago, was light, joking.

"Perhaps," Chris laughed, "I'll show you where the linen closet is, just in case."

Yuuri coughed into his hand, reaching for a handkerchief before remembering he'd left it in his suitcase... which was still at the hotel. Victor had been lucky enough to escape with his violin, but both of their array of clothes would probably be stuck in lost and found forever now. 

"My clothes," He mourned quietly as Chris parked the boat.

Masumi spoke up for the first time as they all stood, "We're meant to call Lilia to tell her you made it," His words had a French curl to them, "We can tell her to find your clothing too. We'll have it shipped to Switzerland with us."

Now wasn't that a thought, having his clothes - because who was he kidding, they were his clothes now - having his whole life, really, sent over to Switzerland with Victor's. It only dawned on Yuuri then that he'd probably never return to America. A whole new chapter of his life had begun. And it was starting with Victor by his side. 

Yuuri couldn't be more ready.

After being shown to their room (and the linen closet as Chris had promised), Victor and Yuuri stripped out of their suits quickly enough. They were left in their dresses, wrinkled beyond belief, but a lot cooler in the warm room. Victor held his wig, matted terribly, in his hand. They hadn't managed to save a comb to do anything for it, so he settled it on the nightstand as if he were laying a family member in their coffin before returning his gaze to Yuuri, embarrassingly loving.

"At least we have two outfits," Yuuri grinned, stepping closer to Victor when he stepped closer to Yuuri. 

"And our best dresses, too," Victor took Yuuri's waist, pulling him in so Yuuri could place his hands on Victor's arm, rubbing up and down with featherlight touches. In his heels, he was nearly eye level with Victor, perfect to steal a kiss in the privacy of their room.

"Wherever we end up, we're going to be together," Victor hummed, lips finding Yuuri's again, "You sure you're okay with a clingy homosexual for a lover?"

Yuuri giggled, pressing his lips to Victor's neck, rejoicing in the little shiver he was rewarded with, "Well, nobody's perfect."