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"Yuuri."
Yuuri turned on his heel to throw a quick glance toward Viktor. He was at the kotatsu, feet tucked neatly beneath him, with Makkachin curled up on his right side and Mari-neechan occupying the space on his left.
'Occupying' was the operative word, as she was neither sitting nor laying; her feet were splayed beneath her and she was fully flopped over on the table, face pressed against the surface and throat working around the faintest hint of a snore.
Yuuri frowned.
Viktor blinked down at Mari-nee and then beamed up at him, "She had a rough day."
"Right..." Yuuri responded, tugging his gaze away from his drooling sister and recentering it on Viktor's face. "What was it you needed, Viktor?"
"Oh," Viktor bounced a little on the tatami, as if he'd already forgotten. He turned his eyes back down to where his phone was sitting in the cradle of his right hand. "I'm trying to write this message in Japanese, but my phone is suggesting all these kanji and I don't know which one is correct..."
Yuuri took a few steps toward Viktor, sinking down to his knees directly behind him as not to bother the inhabitants on either side. He gently placed his hand on Viktor's shoulder, steadying himself as he peered over it and scanned the message displayed on Viktor's phone screen.
"Oh, you're writing my name," Yuuri said, cheeks reflexively coloring.
"Yes!" Viktor said, thumb hovering over the options for kanji. "I'm writing about how I've taken you under my wing!" He flicked his thumb over the screen, and Yuuri could hear the slightest frown in his voice, "I thought it was... this one." He sighed, "But I'm just not sure."
Yuuri leaned forward a touch, chest pressing against Viktor's shoulder blades. "Not quite," he said with a smile tugging at his lips. "That one means 'kind' or 'gentle'."
"Then it fits you perfectly!" Viktor said. It was strange how Viktor's expression was obstructed, but Yuuri could still hear it in his voice. He sensed the resonance of happiness in the breaths after Viktor's syllables, could feel it vibrating in the lower notes of Viktor's words.
"It's actually..." Yuuri leaned farther forward, voice and body straining slightly with the reach as he attempted not to push his full weight against Viktor's back, "this one." He tapped at the kanji and the phone happily accepted the input.
"Ooh," Viktor almost cooed. "What's that one mean?"
By this point, Yuuri was used to the perpetual blush that had accompanied him since Viktor arrived. "Courage," he answered.
"Hmm," he hummed, the rumble close enough to tickle at Yuuri's cheek. "That fits perfectly too, then."
Yuuri nervously adjusted his glasses, silently pushing them up the bridge of his nose and glossing over the compliment he didn't know how to respond to. He cleared his throat as his eyes tumbled over the other characters on Viktor's phone screen. "But, Viktor."
"Mm?"
"Right here," he said, reaching forward again and allowing his chin to fit over the curve of Viktor's shoulder. "Where you apologize in advance for your Japanese writing."
Viktor tilted his head toward Yuuri's voice, a sliver of his profile barely visible under the curtain of his hair. He said nothing, but listened intently.
"You say your kanji use is 'bad'," Yuuri swallowed, his heart fluttering in an unnecessary way as nerves crawled up this throat. "But in this context 'bad' would mean you were saying something foul, or using harsh language, like cursing."
Viktor gasped very softly, the noise probably inaudible if it hadn't been for Yuuri's ear pressing almost flush to Viktor's neck. "Oh, that's not what I meant at all!"
"I know," Yuuri said. "So it'd be best to use the word 'unskilled', or maybe say 'my kanji still has a ways to go'."
"Okay!" Viktor responded pleasantly, tapping his cursor up to the first line and deleting his previous sentence. "My kanji..." he mumbled to himself as he wrote, "still has a long way to go..."
Yuuri smiled as the sentence appeared, leaning back so that he was no longer swallowing against the resistance of Viktor's shoulder. As he moved some of Viktor's hair became tangled in his own and against his ear, grazing over his cheekbone. Yuuri became suddenly aware of its scent, light and airy with a very small trace of something citrus.
Yuuri paused, eyelids fluttering closed as he inhaled the scent. It was somehow equally foreign and familiar. Perhaps it was the dichotomy of someone Yuuri always viewed as a god using something as plebian as citrus shampoo, or maybe it was a freshness Yuuri could vaguely remember dusting the air on a sunny wind-strewn day. Either way it gave him pause, and his whole body seemed to stop and appreciate the smell without a second's hesitation.
When he exhaled his spine curved a bit on relaxation, and he could feel his breath gusting over the plane of Viktor's neck. Just as he was opening his eyes, his next inhale offered him something else. It was cool and musky; a clean spice lifting from somewhere warm. Yuuri leaned forward just a little, just a breath or two, until his nose was touching at where the edge of Viktor's hairline met the flesh of his neck.
It was his skin-- or his body wash, cologne, whatever-- but it was intoxicatingly good and just faint enough to make his senses crave a bit more. Yuuri's lips parted, the pout of his bottom lip barely touching against Viktor's skin, and he inhaled the scent again. He could taste it against his tongue, and the roof of his mouth tingled slightly at the dizzying swirl of cool air and warm scent. It made the front of Yuuri's skull feel light, and he honestly wanted to bury his nose in Viktor's hair and skin, breathing in that scent until he somehow grew tired of it, until the ache of his chest was sated or th--
"Um, Yuuri."
Yuuri froze. The hand he had unthinkingly clutched around Viktor's shoulder somehow tightened, and his spine went rigid in its curled state. He opened his eyes, eyelashes tangling with strands of Viktor's hair, and his mouth went dry.
Viktor turned his head a fraction in Yuuri's direction, and either everything Yuuri was seeing was a lie or Viktor's cheeks were brushed with crimson. "Do you like my body wash?" he asked without a single hitch in his smooth voice.
Yuuri felt as if all the blood in his body drained upward into his face.
"NO NO NO NO NO," he spouted, too sudden and too loud as he flung himself backwards and landed on the tatami. "Well no! Not no! It's! Hahaha!"
Viktor turned to face him and tilted his head, coy smile still on his face. Makkachin roused enough beside him to let go of a whining yawn.
"I'm going to go review my choreography! Call me if you need anything!" And with that Yuuri bolted across the room and up the stairs, feet not halting until he'd slammed his bedroom door behind him.
Yuuri shoved his face in his bed, folded his pillow around his head, and shrieked curses at himself.
"Yuuri!" There was a knock at the door, Viktor's blithe voice muffled behind it. "Let's sleep together tonight!"
"It's alright!" Yuuri called, voice still wavering in reaction to his incredible idiocy. "I'll be up really late so... so just go ahead."
There was a long pause. "... I'll let you smell my hair!"
Yuuri sobbed into his mattress.