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Yuuri isn't quite awake, but he can tell he isn't dreaming even if Victor Nikiforov is there, in front of him, sitting on his bed, leafing through a pile of--
Oh.
Posters. It's his posters of Victor. The ones he had torn down in a panic when his idol arrived at his home. The ones he couldn't quite bring himself to throw away, that he'd slid under his bed and forgotten about.
(Okay, maybe he hadn't forgotten about them. But they had sentimental value and, yes, the fact that Victor looks amazing in some of them may have played a tiny part in his reluctance to let go.
Now he wishes he had gotten rid of them. Maybe never put them up at all.)
"What are these?" Victor looks up, and Yuuri's eyes flick between the two dimensional Victor, a full body poster of him on the ice, and actual, real life Victor, eyes twinkling as he considers his find like a rare treasure.
"Put them down!" Yuuri scrambles forward, but he doesn't reach the bed before Victor's lips curl up into a satisfied smile. "Finally I know something about you."
Yuuri can feel his face burning. "Can you pretend you didn't find those?" He asks.
"Certainly not!" Victor holds them out of Yuuri's reach and leafs through them, looking quite content. He holds the poster out in front of him. "Maybe I'll grow out my hair again, would you like that?" He looks up at Yuuri expectantly.
Yuuri lets out what can only be described as an undignified squeak. Would he like that? Is Victor serious? He would worship that. He would die . "It suits you," he says, steadily. "I mean, as does your hair now."
Victor grins, all teeth, smiling eyes, and satisfaction. Says, "Don't be embarrassed, Yuuri. Having a crush on someone you look up to is normal."
Yuuri waves his hands desperately. "I don't!"
"You don't... look up to me?" Victor places a finger on his chin, tilts his head.
"I look up to you," Yuuri replies. His mouth is dry.
His answer seems to please Victor, who nods once as he stands up, says, "I'll see you at the rink," and leaves Yuuri's room (and the posters of him, oh god) with the least subtle of winks.
Yuuri can't bring himself to do much other than try to breathe until he hears his mother calling him for breakfast.
Yuuri lies on his back and stares at the ceiling, his fists clenched in the sheets.
He wants to relax, to let go and sleep. His body is tired and sore, but his mind just won't turn off, a torrent of mixed emotions running through him. He's happy, so much happier than he has been for a long time. He's excited and he's hopeful and he's determined. And he kind of wants the ground to open up and to swallow him because Victor knows about his crush. Victor knows about his crush and smiles at him and nonchalantly says that it's normal .
His phone lights up, buzzing as it vibrates and Yuuri fumbles for it, blinking into the darkness as he makes out the name on the Caller ID.
"Victor?"
"Did I wake you?"
Yuuri shakes his head, before realising that Victor can’t see him. "No," he says.
"Come downstairs.” Victor says. It doesn’t sound like a question.
When Yuuri gets downstairs, Victor is sat cross legged, Makkachin sleeping soundly next to him. He motions for Yuuri to sit down in front of him. Says, “I wanted to apologise to you.”
Yuuri wrings his hands, feeling nervous and looks down. “Apologise?”
“For entering your room without permission yesterday. If I'm to be your coach, I need you to trust me, and I want you to know I won't do it again.”
Yuuri opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. I do trust you seems too much, okay , too little.
Victor leans forward, his bare knees touching Yuuri’s for a brief moment. Yuuri assumes it isn’t purposeful, but part of him hopes that is. “Am I forgiven?” Victor asks.
Yuuri can only nod.
“Good.” Victor smiles. “So, I won’t enter your bedroom... Not unless I have your permission, that is," He adds, and there is something in his gaze that has Yuuri unable to look away.
“Smile!”
Yuuri isn’t ready for the flash. He almost falls backwards off the bench in surprise as Victor purses his lips as he checks the result of his photo attack. “Let’s take one together,” he says, holding out his hand for Yuuri to take.
Yuuri steps down from the bench without Victor’s help.“What is it for?” He asks, as Victor leans in closer to him and raises his fingers in a V sign.
“Just for me… And my instagram followers, of course” Victor replies afterwards, as he chooses a filter for their first photo together. “You look good, Yuuri.”
“Thank you,” Yuuri replies. Says, “I’ve been training very hard,” because he has, and he’s proud. He hopes that Victor is too.
“We already have four hundred likes!” Victor exclaims, and his happiness is infectious. He takes another photo of Yuuri as he steps back onto the bench to train and says, with no hint of teasing, “This one would look very beautiful as a poster."
Yuuri almost slips off the bench again, but luckily Victor doesn’t notice.
There is a tentative knock at Yuuri’s bedroom door a few days later, as he towels his hair dry from his morning shower.
“It’s Victor. May I come in?” It almost sounds like asking is causing him pain. As though he isn’t used to needing to ask at all. He probably never has to. “I promise I won’t pry....”
“I’m...” Yuuri wants to say yes, but his heart is beating too loudly in his chest, and the posters are still there, under his bed, because no matter what he does he can’t bring himself to throw them away. “I’ll be out in a moment,” He manages to call. There is silence from the hallway in response.
Finally, Victor says, “I see. I’ll meet you downstairs, then.”
Yuuri tries not to dwell on the disappointment in his coach’s voice, and tries to focus more on the fact that he is putting his all into getting to know Yuuri in the slower, less intrusive way that Yuuri appreciates.
Even so, his mind wanders as he lies awake that night, thinks about Victor asking permission to be alone with him in his room. Thinks about situations in which he’d like to say yes.
There are quite a few.
They’re in the hot spring, after a relentless training session on the ice a week later, when Victor says, “I never had posters on my wall when I was younger.”
“No?” Yuuri opens one eye.
“No. But-- But I think I would now. If I was younger, if I needed someone to look up to. Maybe I would.” Victor’s foot brushes over Yuuri’s calf, by accident or not he can’t tell; Victor’s eyes are closed, his hair slicked back off his face as he rests his head back.
Yuuri has a feeling that this conversation is just another one of Victor’s ploys to get him to open up, but he doesn’t feel the creeping panic that he had always felt when Victor asked him questions before. Maybe he isn’t scared anymore of Victor really knowing him, or maybe he’s just warm and tired and relaxed enough to give Victor what he wants. “I hope I can be someone to look up to, I hope I can be someone’s inspiration one day.” he admits. "That's what I want."
“You already are someone’s inspiration, Yuuri.” Victor replies, and this time, when his foot skims Yuuri’s leg, Yuuri is almost certain it isn’t an accident at all.
Yuuri realises that Victor is still behind him as he reaches his bedroom door. It’s been a long week, but they’ve made such progress, and Yuuri is truly starting to feel as though they’re a real team. That this could really work.
“Would you like to come in?” Yuuri asks, looks over his shoulder and watches Victor’s expression of uncertainty turn into a beaming smile.
“Have you thrown away the posters yet?” Victor asks as he stands in the doorway.
“No.” Yuuri shrugs off his jacket. “And I’m not going to. They remind me of how much I want this, how hard I have to work.”
Victor looks-- surprised? Impressed? Yuuri isn’t sure, but he feels good for being the cause. Even if he can hardly believe it. “Can I look at them again?” Victor asks.
Yuuri shakes his head hurriedly. “ No . Definitely not.”
“Well, what else are we going to do to bond?” Victor asks, as if he doesn’t really need to. As if he holds all of the answers.
“I-- I can think of some things,” Yuuri says, and it comes out in a rush, and his cheeks are definitely burning, and his heart is about to jump ship, right out of his chest, because what is he doing? Is he flirting with Victor?
Victor closes the door, lips curling up into a satisfied smile. “Was one of them talking about me?”
Yuuri swallows his nerves. “Um--”
“I didn’t think so.” Victor laughs, and when he places a hand on Yuuri’s chest, it’s definitely not an accident.