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“if you’re going to be eros, you can’t just act and feel it, you need to look it to,” viktor had said, before shoving yuuri into his too-small bathroom.
yuuri hadn’t been given a choice, dragged away early in the morning the day of nationals, halfway through his breakfast and he still had rice stuck to his lips. viktor had brushed that away before yuuri had even a chance to glance in the mirror, spinning yuuri around so his back was turned away from it, cornering him against the counter.
“it’s a shame you don’t have a stool or something in here,” viktor says, glancing around the cramped room like one might just be conjured up from under the pile of dirty clothes and towels growing in the corner.
“i can get one if you want-“
“no, no, this is fine.” viktor grins something devilish and yuuri’s only given a moment to shout before he’s hoisting yuuri up onto the counter without a care for yuuri’s complaints.
“what the- put me down!” yuuri shrieks and hits at viktor’s shoulders with his fists. he falls into the sink a little, butt dipping into the bowl but viktor has a firm hold on his hips, preventing him from falling back against the taps and mirror.
“you’re still quite heavy for not looking like a little piggy anymore aren’t you?” viktor says slyly. yuuri almost flinches at the cruel nickname, deemed to him in an effort to lose weight – and he had – but it doesn’t shake away the whispers in his mind whenever he stares too long in the mirror. instead yuuri kicks at the side of viktor’s shins and hits him again just to make sure. viktor had situated himself in-between yuuri’s legs so he’s a prime target for socked feet.
“it’s muscle mass,” he pouts.
“i’m sure it is,” viktor murmurs and he’s far too close for comfort, blue eyes teasing him from under heavy lashes. yuuri can almost feel viktor’s breath on his face.
yuuri almost forgets to breathe himself.
he hasn’t been given a single moment to gather himself ever since viktor had interrupted his breakfast, in fact, he hadn’t been given a moment to gather himself at all ever since viktor rocked up on his doorstep (or naked in the hot springs should yuuri ever get technical) proclaiming to be his coach.
“so why are we here?” he asks eventually, breaking the silence between them.
“oh! i’d almost forgotten,” viktor says, and then lets go of yuuri’s hips, drawing away from him. “stay here, i’ll be right back.”
yuuri’s left cold on the bathroom counter, feet hanging off the ground and missing the warmth of viktor’s close proximity. he picks idly at the threadbare stitching of his sweater and tries not to stare too hard at the bathroom tiles he’d known for the past 23 years.
“i’m back!” viktor declares as the door bangs open with a start. yuuri almost falls into the sink again when viktor shoves a small black bag into his hand.
“hold this, i need to do your hair first,” he says, before budging his way back in-between yuuri’s legs and and plunging his fingers into yuuri’s sleep mussed hair, pushing his bangs off of his face. it takes yuuri back to when viktor had styled his hair before the onsen on ice competition, though it had only been in the locker rooms as viktor had tentatively slicked back his hair with gel to help it stay. neither of them had said a word as russian yuri had glared a hole through yuuri’s head.
curiosity finally gets the best of him as he rattles the bag viktor had handed him. “what’s this?”
“makeup.”
he hisses as his hair is tugged back, one particularly tough knot being combed out as viktor cards his hands through.
“w-why makeup?” the hair yuuri could understand, makeup he could not. “it wasn’t this extravagant for the onsen on ice, you just did my hair.”
“as i said, you need to look the part to and besides, that was a local competition-“ it had been broadcasted on the news, yuuri had seen multiple articles published on yuri’s glare already “-this is nationals, and as your coach i’m advising you that you’ve got to project your image more.”
viktor reaches behind yuuri for the hair gel gathering dust with the other products yuuri had only used once, a thick glob worked through his hair until viktor finally leans back with a satisfied hum, yuuri’s about to protest the loss of viktor’s hands, he’d become accustomed to the feeling of having his hair played with, letting his eyes fall half shut at the relaxing feeling, however he stops himself once he realises it’s not wise to want viktor to continue playing with his hair for absolutely no reason.
viktor seems to admire his work when he steps back, nodding to himself.
“you look better with your bangs pushed back, you should do it more often.”
yuuri can’t see what he looks like, and he doesn’t exactly want to sneak a glance in the mirror should he dislike what he sees. although with viktor’s stamp of approval it might not just be too bad.
viktor eventually plucks the bag from yuuri’s loose grip, unzipping it so he can ruffle through the contents.
creams, foundations, pencils, glittery looking tubs, moisturizers and alike are tipped onto the counter. yuuri doesn’t even know what half of the bottles and tubs are.
“how did all of this fit in that?” yuuri asks, gesturing to the tiny bag that had produced contents three times it’s size.
“airline regulations get strict about this kinda shit, it was compress or bust.”
“or bust?”
“it’s- you know what never mind, hold this please.” viktor shoves more miscellaneous things in yuuri’s hands, small tubes of moisturizers and creams.
viktor plucks yuuri’s glasses off of the bridge of his nose, folding them neatly and setting them aside. viktor becomes a blur but up close yuuri can still see the fine details of his face, if he squints.
“is all this really necessary?” yuuri asks once viktor slaps a blob of cold moisturizer onto his skin, softly working it in to his skin despite how careless viktor can be.
“very. here i need that eye cream.”
yuuri has no idea which one is the eye cream from the hundreds (five) products in his hands, it’s all a mix of russian or english, neither of which yuuri is talented at, also given the fact yuuri’s eyesight is no where near 20/20 vision right now he’s surprised he even managed to distinguish the two different languages. viktor picks it from the bunch without a moments thought.
“i do know how to apply my own makeup.” yuuri says when viktor smudges cold cream on the soft skin around yuuri’s eyes, his fingers pause at the outer corners of his eyes .
“do you really?”
“well… i use moisturizer, how hard can it really be?”
viktor gives him a pointed look before continuing on with the task at hand. the bb cream is just the slightest shade too light for yuuri’s skin so viktor mixes it with a drop or two of darker foundation on the back of yuuri’s hand, yuuri watching in wonder as he blends just the right amount with delicate fingers pressing into yuuri’s skin.
“how do you know all this stuff?” yuuri asks, as viktor smothers his face in the bb cream mixture. “where did you even get it from?”
viktor hums before squishing yuuri cheeks so his lips are pouted like a fish, he lets go with a grin, leaning back and yuuri hadn’t even noticed viktor had gotten so close, far too close.
“well, you know the costume you chose for eros, what’s special about it?”
“it- it suggests two genders?” yuuri says. he isn’t currently wearing the costume but viktor’s hands are free to trail up the sides of his thighs, uncovered since his pyjamas shorts had ridden up as he sat. it clicks in yuuri’s mind when viktor pokes his tummy.
“exactly! it was a part of the costume, and still is. i never wore drastic makeup though, just enough to cover my teenage acne at the time, but not to little so that it still gave off an air of femininity.”
“i never noticed…” yuuri trails off.
“and so hardly anyone will with you,” viktor says, “so don’t worry your pretty little head in thinking that it’s too much.”
yuuri nods, and lets viktor continue with now piling concealer onto his face.
“ah- i don’t want to cover your blush,” viktor mutters.
“no, please do,” yuuri says. he’d always been prone to blushing at the slightest things, he thinks it might even be a relief viktor is evening out his skin tone.
“it’s vibrant enough to shine through anyways,” he teases. yuuri feels the prickling heat crawling up his cheeks even more at the comment, his face hadn’t felt cool in days.
“oh also, i stole a few things from mila, but most of this is mine.” he rattles the concealer tube in his hand. “i’ve helped her more than she’s helped me with makeup though.” he stifles a laugh with the back of his hand. “once we tried to get this concealer on yurio, all those angry teenage hormones are ruining his skin, but it gave him the ugliest rash.”
“even his skin is aggressive,” yuuri comments.
“highly sensitive,” viktor laughs through his words and yuuri snorts.
“that’s the one thing that boy isn’t.”
eventually viktor goes back to fixing yuuri’s face, touching up the tint on his skin till he’s finally happy with his work. yuuri feels like he’s being painted like canvas, though he’s glad viktor isn’t using brushes but instead his fingers to blend the product into his skin, it’s almost relaxing having viktor’s fingers dancing across his skin.
it’s quiet as viktor works, turning to sharpening a stick of kohl that had worn down completely, and yuuri stares at the determined crease between viktor’s brows. he can’t stop staring at viktor in fact, even when he glances up at yuuri does he not avert his eyes, holding viktor’s gaze.
“next is eyeliner,” viktor says softly. this is one area yuuri would have bombed out on completely, so he’s glad viktor’s forced yuuri to let him do his makeup, instead of letting him embarrass himself. “close your eyes.”
yuuri doesn’t close his eyes entirely, leaving them half lidded so he can know when viktor is potentially about to stab him in the eye with a sharp pencil. his heart rate increases till it feels like his chest might just burst as viktor draws closer, he feels so much as sees viktor shift in-between his legs, bracing one hand on the corner of yuuri’s face to keep him still while he swipes kohl over his eyelid, and the smudges it some.
he’s half winking as viktor pretties up his left eyelid, silently watching viktor’s miniscule expressions as he works, the tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth occasionally swipes across his upper lip when something doesn’t turn out right, the tiniest grin that pulls the corners of his mouth upwards like a crescent moon when he smudges and wings it out ever so slightly.
viktor is positively beautiful and yuuri’s only sad he can’t see the full picture with his lack of glasses and half closed eyes.
he blinks out the tears that had gathered along his lash line from having his eye poked at when viktor finally let’s go, and then viktor’s moving on to his right eye, turning yuuri’s face more towards him.
viktor hadn’t been this close before, he can actually feel his breath fanning across his skin, puffs of hot air that have goose bumps prickling and a blush that adds to the already flushed skin hidden under makeup.
he’s being dragged down, down, down by the feeling of viktor’s skin on his, the light almost casual touches intertwined with the press of viktor’s strong thighs in-between his. it’s so much that yuuri’s breath get’s caught in his throat.
“you can breathe you know, i won’t poke your eye out, i promise.” viktor’s voice has dropped to almost a whisper, voice low and gravelly, he continues to smudge kohl alone his eyelid like yuuri’s not about to have an aneurysm, or a seizure, or both.
yuuri isn’t afraid of viktor poking his eye out anymore, it’s not that at all. it’s the fact that yuuri feels drunk on the feeling of viktor in his little personal bubble, the fact that he practically craves viktor to be closer than he already is and he wants.
he forces himself to exhale, heavily, and adjusts his hips so he’s the tiniest bit further away from viktor. the room is too quiet, his breath feels too loud in his ears and viktor is too intense. the situation feels charged, like a battery crackling with electricity when yuuri meets viktor’s eyes, something unspoken between them when yuuri wriggles back. like viktor’s eyeing down a competitor; a challenge.
viktor releases his face all too soon, stepping back and yuuri misses the warmth way too much. he vaguely regrets not pushing closer when he had the chance.
he fixes a stray strand of yuuri’s hair, pushing it back in place.
“your lips seem chapped to,” viktor says and then leans in, clutching the tops of yuuri’s thighs. he’s startled backwards, viktor’s never been this close and there’s a fire in his blue eyes, burning cold, that hadn’t been there before yuuri had moved. the last thing yuuri expects though, is for the surge of viktor’s lips pressing against his, as if it’s movement practice between them a hundred times over, almost entirely casual.
“there, now you’re perfect," he mumbles and grins against his lips.
yuuri’s heart had skipped a beat – several beats – at the press of viktor’s lips against his, it had only been for a fraction of a second, and yuuri’s eyes had been so wide open to see as much of viktor as he could, but it had been there and he’d lost at least ten years of his life from that moment alone. yuuri falls backwards, into the bowl of the sink when viktor lets go of his thighs, the small of his back hitting the tap painfully.
“v-viktor, what was-“
“come on, we’ve got a competition to get to,” he exclaims like absolutely nothing had transpired just moments ago, leaving uncapped makeup and products scattered across the bench in his wake.
“-wait come back!” yuuri calls to the fading footsteps. “-what was that?!”
viktor’s already gone.
“oh…” yuuri says to himself once he’s cold and alone once again; the ghost feeling of viktor stuck on his lips - chanel chapstick and mint - as he sits in the middle of the mess viktor had created. “it must be a european thing.”