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Surprises.
Yuuri’s life was full of them, but they weren’t all necessarily pleasant surprises. Not everything was as delightful as the time Yuuri’s father had come home with a poodle tucked in one arm because Yuuri wouldn’t stop talking about having one, or as amazing as the swell of pride in his chest when he’d somehow achieved the ideal ice-skating figure, or as incredible as the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his blood vessels when his coach told him that he’d made the cut for the finals. Some surprises were horrible; nasty; and sometimes they made him want to curl under his blanket and mope for days. Some surprises hit him like a strong breeze – startling, cold against his skin, leaving chills in its wake, like when his childhood friends married each other and sent him photos of their wedding.
And then there were these kinds of surprises.
Yuuri really didn’t know what to make of the situation. He was gasping for air, kind of choking, really, because Victor’s collarbone was pressing against his trachea. The faint smell of sakura-scented shower gel and alcohol filled his nostrils like a dizzying mix. He pushed himself up, pulling the hand off the back of his neck a little too roughly.
“Aww, baby…” Victor cooed. “You don’t like the song…?”
It was not much of a song – more like an ugly belt of Russian words. “Y-you have to be quieter, Victor,” Yuuri pleaded, finger on his lips. “If someone hears you, they might get the wrong idea…”
Victor aah-ed, and then hiccupped. He gazed up at Yuuri, his eyes glossed with alcohol. Yuuri found himself drawn to them, slowly losing himself in crystal blue.
Pinch.
“V-Victor?” The dull pain on his cheek brought him out of his trance, along with the drunken giggles of the man below him. And then it hit him.
Anyone could walk in on their compromising position – it could be his sister, his parents, Minako-sensei… or even Yu-chan. God, he did not want to have to explain to his childhood friend why he had their idol pinned under him, fresh out of the bath but intoxicated and dressed in nothing but a thin bathhouse robe. And that was probably where the problem lied at the moment, as Yuuri tried his best to ignore the long strip of skin at the corner of his eyes. He had a mind to tug the robe down in place, but he’d done that before and Victor just kept drawing his legs up, whether intentionally or not, Yuuri would never know. However, what he did know was that that meant the robe would ride up to Victor’s thighs, exposing those smooth, creamy-
Ah, he hadn’t locked the door.
Yeap, he should probably go and lock the door, especially if the older man was to stay the night in his room. Don’t get him wrong! Victor was absolutely trashed, so not only did it mean he was off his rockers, it also meant that Victor was more stubborn, more carefree, more spoiled, more… everything. He’d made so much noise during his small fit that Yuuri had taken him to his own room so he wouldn’t bother the other guests – o-only until he calmed down!
A soft groan from under him grabbed his attention. The bed shifted as the older man leaned towards Yuuri’s hand, pressed deep into the mattress, just by his ear. Victor stared curiously at it before rubbing his cheek against it. And then he dabbed it with his tongue.
What.
Was he a dog now? Yuuri only watched as Victor continued to rub his cheek against his hand affectionately, licking it every now and then. He would have stayed like that until he caught a red dots dripping on the chest below him, nose feeling warmer than usual.
Yeeeeap, he had to go lock the door before anyone barged in. It set off alarms in his head, the fact that he’d almost forgotten about the one other Russian guest who was probably fuming in his room, waiting to yell at Victor for being late for bedtime or something like that. The last thing he wanted was to have his door kicked down by a small, very angry Russian teenage punk. He was glad Yuri had no idea where his room was.
Like no one had already heard Victor’s loud, horrible attempt at a lullaby through the thin, wooden walls of the old shop, guests instantly figuring out where the man was because Yuuri’s room was the only room in that section of the house. Like it wouldn’t be all the more suspicious to have the door locked, blocking the outside world from peeking in on a potential scandal.
Okay, it was an excuse, but Yuuri needed to leave… or at least move. Do something else – anything, because his face was steaming at this point. He was glad Victor wasn’t sober enough to laugh at him for it, however, it seemed that drunk Victor was more prone to laughing at anything and everything. It wasn’t a fun thought to entertain, but if he still wasn’t careful, his blood might rush south, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t already feel his pants begin to tighten.
“Victor, I have to lock the door,” he murmured. The chances of Victor listening were less likely than the chances of him surpassing the five-times-ice-skating-champion within a year, but it was courtesy.
Yuuri found it surprisingly easy to get off the bed. He thought he’d need to wrestle away from the Russian man, but Victor only watched him move across the room. It suddenly made Yuuri even more self-conscious than he already was around the man, if that was even possible.
“Yuuri...”
Urk. The man of his dreams sat up, swinging his legs over the bed so his feet touched the cold floor. “Yes…?”
“It’s so hot...”
“Hot? But the air conditioner is –Victor! No no no!”
Yuuri scrambled to pull the robe back in place. His heart leaped when he (accidentally) made contact with warm flesh, but he shook the thought off. Victor was whining, but Yuuri forced himself to ignore him. The air conditioner was set to 16 degrees, for goodness’ sake! “You can’t take your robe off,” Yuuri gently reprimanded, flustered as he smoothed the robe down Victor’s shoulders. The alcohol must have messed up Victor’s perception of temperature. “You’ll catch a c-c-COOOOLD-“
Oof!
Victor’s laughter bubbled in his right ear, breath tickling his face. Yuuri was internally screaming again. Okay, so the door was locked, but it didn’t mean their position was okay! His attempts to push himself up were obstructed by the arms around his neck. The furthest he could go was just a little above Victor’s face. He had one knee on the bed, the other foot on the bedroom floor. The posture strained him, and he knew that if he stayed that way for too long he was going to snap a muscle.
Great, not only had he a drunken man-child in his arms, said man-child had him locked in place with the addition of legs around his waist, like a koala bear.
“Ko-bu-ta-chaaann,” Victor sang, leaning up, bringing their faces closer. Yuuri’s glasses fogged up, sending him into a slight panic, but his limbs locked up and he didn’t dare move. The arms around his neck tightened. The breath on his face was so, so close, and then he felt it.
The brush against his lips, as light as a flutter.
Ah.
It was the burning smell of alcohol that made him draw back. This… it was his imagination. Or an accident! Victor probably wanted to bump noses, or something. It wasn’t like Yuuri could see what was going on, anyway. He braced his foot against the floor and leaned downwards to lay koala-Victor’s back on the bed. Now that most of Victor’s weight wasn’t hanging off him, Yuuri quickly wiped his lenses clean, breathing a sigh of relief when he could finally see again.
Only to have his breath taken away once more.
Victor was grinning at him like he had all evening, flushed. If Yuuri didn’t know better, he would have thought there was a playful twinkle in his eyes. That was what Victor was – a happy drunk. A happy, affectionate drunk who couldn’t tell left from right, who somehow tripped over himself because he was too intoxicated to walk right. This was completely new to Yuuri, because he’d never thought the man would drink himself to this state. Yuuri didn’t really know what to think of it. It was foolish yet endearing in a way, and it made Victor seem a little more… human. To him. Not just a walking, living sex bomb with godlike ice-skating skills, but, well, human.
“Kobuta-channn, give me a kissssss…”
Eh? Yuuri waited for Victor to laugh it off, but the man continued to stare at him expectantly. It was a joke, it had to be, but damn the small part of him that yearned for it to be true, that Victor was really asking him for a kiss.
The arms around his neck unravel themselves and slid down so that cool hands rested on his jaw. The playful twinkle was gone, and suddenly Victor’s eyes seemed like a bottomless ocean. He guided Yuuri’s face down, closer to his lips, and Yuuri’s heart battered against his chest. His body stiffened, toes curling, hands gripping the sheet on either side of Victor. This wasn’t real this couldn’t be real.
Victor’s eyelids fluttered shut, lashes tickling his face. Their breaths intermingled, and then-
“N-no! No, no, no!” Yuuri pushed Victor’s face away, earning a confused yelp from the older man.
Victor feigned hurt (or at least, Yuuri hoped it was that). “You don’t like me…?”
“I do! I really do!” Yuuri slapped a hand over his own mouth, but it was too late. Victor’s grin stretched wider, and Yuuri was starting to doubt that the man was even drunk in the first place.
“I like you too.”
What.
“I like you a lot,” Victor repeated, reaching up again to pull Yuuri down. “A lottttt.”
“You’re so cute,” he cooed, pinching Yuuri’s cheek. “And handsome and beautiful…”
FWOOSH! Yuuri’s face was on fire. T-This was another joke, too, wasn’t it? Victor was a flirtatious man, so he probably wasn’t above doing this. “Wh-What-“
“…and funny and strong and kind…”
They were breaths apart again. Yuuri was lulled by the quiet praises, once again finding himself drowning in the smothering orbs before him.
“I love you…”
“Mh?”
Yuuri’s nerves jumped, but he kept his shaky finger on Victor’s lips.
“I’m sorry, Victor,” Yuuri said, smiling apologetically. He slowly pulled away, gently prying Victor’s limbs off him. “You’re amazing; beautiful; talented, and so, so much more… and I know that there are so many other people out there who are better than I am, who love you just as much if not more…” his voice wavered, “but this isn’t fair for you. You’re drunk. I can’t do this to you.” Even if Yuuri knew there were people out there who would kill to have this opportunity. Even if Yuuri knew he could easily have some of his less… innocent dreams come true right there and then. Even if Yuuri’s senses were begging him to continue, to take what was offered to him regardless of the consequences.
Victor seemed to be in a daze as Yuuri properly positioned him on the bed and pulled the blanket over him. It was like tucking a child in, and it made Yuuri’s smile widen.
A new feeling blossomed inside him as Yuuri fetched another blanket from the closet. Even if he were to turn the air conditioner off, the night would still be cold – which was why Yuuri’s blanket was so thick in the first place. But Yuuri used to have his chub to keep him warm, so it wasn’t a big deal for him. He didn’t know how well Victor dealt with the cold (he probably had no need to worry, since Victor came from a cold country), but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.
He was just about to leave to grab a spare futon from the closet when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.
“Sleep with me,” Victor whined, and his pout shot right through Yuuri’s heart. Boy, it was difficult to think reasonably when it came to dealing with your idol.
“Yes, yes, I’ll just be on the floor here…”
“Nnnn!” The Lord is testing him. Yuuri bit his lip, but shook his head.
“It’s okay, I’ll just go grab the futon…”
He was stopped by Victor’s sniffles. Was this real? Was Victor really tearing up over this? He was, and Yuuri swore the man was going to start bawling if he didn’t do something soon.
“U-Uh – I know! I’ll just sleep here,” Yuuri said, sitting on the floor, wrist still in Victor’s grip. He was now sharing eye-levels with Victor, and the tears made Victor look so adorable, Yuuri wondered what good had he done to deserve this. And the sniffle that came after – this was too much. He wriggled his wrist out but clasped the hand later. “We’ll hold hands like this,” Yuuri softly said, almost comfortingly. His voice had stopped trembling a while ago. It was probably because he felt like he was dealing with a small child, and it brought a sense of calmness to him. “So you’ll know I’m here, okay?”
Victor said nothing, but his eyelids were drooping. Soft murmurs tumbled out of his lips, but nothing coherent enough for Yuuri, if they were even in a language he could understand in the first place.
Yuuri watched him fall into a slumber, until he saw the gentle rise of Victor’s chest and the softening of his features. It brought him back to the first day Victor had arrived, when Yuuri watched him sleep for a full half-hour.
Just like back then, it felt like he was trespassing in on one of heaven’s most important moments. An angel laid before him, so vulnerable, so delicate, so pure… and so, so beautiful.
Yuuri wished he could stay like this forever, just drinking in every detail up close, but his eyelids began to feel heavy. He swiftly slipped away to flick the light switch off and came back just as fast, sliding his hand back into Victor’s palm.
Victor looked ethereal under the soft moonlight, and Yuuri wondered if he would ever get this chance ever again. The months would quickly dissolve, and then it would be the day of the Grand Prix Finals… and after that… what happens after that? If he won, would Victor remain his coach? Would Victor leave to prepare for the next season, when he’d finally gotten the motivation he was looking for?
His heart ached at the thought. It was absurd to think this, but…
A few months. He had a few months to tell Victor. A few months to make it clear to Victor what he really meant to him, that he’d fallen for everything that made Victor – even his flaws. Time was cruel, and Yuuri didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Yu-chan.
Unspoken thoughts and buried feelings. Being the only one to know, having to force a smile and crush the hurt in him when Yu-chan sent the first photos of her newborn triplets.
A sneeze, small and delicate. Yuuri blinked, and then quietly laughed to himself.
No use thinking about all that, he thought as he pulled the blanket up to Victor’s chin, when it was better to enjoy what he had now. Giving the smooth hand a squeeze, Yuuri laid his head on the bed, falling asleep to Victor’s soft snores and the rapid beatings of his own heart.
Victor slowly opened his eyes and smiled. There was still a light buzz in his ears, but it was just background noise to him. He pushed himself up, being careful not to wake the younger man, and leaned over the bed to grab the extra blanket Yuuri had left on the floor.
He draped the blanket over Yuuri, the events of the evening replaying in his mind. His heart pounded in a way it hadn’t in a long time, and the foreign feeling made him feel warm inside.
Victor slipped under his own blanket, pulling it up to his chin the way Yuuri had done. There was only a faint, boyish smell to it – so unlike the few lovers he’d allowed into his life, most if not all having been drenched in artificial fragrance. It was so simple, so clean, and so innocuous. Yet, wrapped lovingly around him, it made Victor feel safe. Loved, and not only because he was Victor the living legend, but because he was him.
Haa, there was a dumb smile on his face, but he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to. “You Japanese are so honest,” he murmured, taking Yuuri’s hand. The newfound warmth in his hand made him feel giddy, and he had to laugh at himself.