Chapter Text
For Victor Nikiforov, it’s easy to get carried away. It’s easy to write off the way that reporters couldn’t get to the two of them quickly enough after the scene that unfolded before them, and it’s increasingly easier to ignore the sudden glare of spotlights after being immersed in a completely different world.
Instead, he focuses on how effortless walking through Beijing with Yuuri feels. He turns his attention to his silver medalist, who has changed from his costume into a more suitable dark blue blazer with gray slacks and dress shoes. He smiles fondly when he thinks that Yuuri is too distracted by the bright lights of the city.
“How are you feeling?” Victor leans close to Yuuri’s ear, attempting to make his voice heard in the overpowering noise pollution that has grown apparent about Beijing. Yuuri looks back at his coach and smiles.
“Like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders,” Victor furrows his eyebrows in sudden realization. He thinks he knows what he’s referring to, and in a matter of moments, he grows frazzled.
“I am so sorry, Yuuri. I never meant to make you cry like that. I wasn’t trying to hurt you--” Victor runs a hand through his head with newfound anxiety about his previous actions.
“Victor,” Yuuri pats him on the shoulder, which makes the “world’s hottest bachelor” smile a little brighter because of their height difference. “You can’t beat yourself up over that. You made a mistake, and that is all part of becoming a coach.”
“But that’s unacceptable!” Victor protests. “I should never have to reduce you to tears in order to, well, motivate you in some sick, twisted way.”
“It’s fine,” Yuuri reassures him. “I needed to cry. Sure, your methods were… Unorthodox,” Victor grins at that. “But that allowed me to let it all out. So, stop apologizing, and please, let’s get something to eat for dinner.” Yuuri sighs exasperatedly, and Victor laughs.
“Katsudon, of course,” Victor affirms.
“What else would we have?” Yuuri asks the rhetorical question with such ease that it surprises him.
As the two of them walk side-by-side on the streets of Beijing, Yuuri’s hand itches to hold Victor’s. In a streak of confidence but still timid yearning, he reaches for Victor’s hand as his cheeks burn with a combination of the wind and slight embarrassment.
“Oh?” Victor looks down at his now held hand, giggles, and interlocks their fingers. The air is freezing around them, but Yuuri feels warmth through Victor’s grasp.
“Thank you,” Yuuri murmurs.
“What for?” Victor asks, but Yuuri shakes his head.
“Just… Thank you.” They say nothing more, the street lamps illuminating the path in front of them.
They find a nice (but not too nice so Yuuri will start to feel out of place) restaurant that serves katsudon. It’s nothing like his mother’s cooking, but Yuuri savors the dish all the same. Victor picks his personal favorite dishes and looks up from his meal to watch Yuuri relish in the victory that led to this amazing dinner.
“You could almost think of this as a date,” Victor says offhandedly, expecting Yuuri to react.
Months ago, Yuuri would have become the shade of the sun on the Japanese flag and probably have choked on his katsudon. He would have waved his hands frantically, insisting that it couldn’t be a date because why on Earth would the Victor Nikiforov spend his valuable time with a figure skater who placed sixth in the Grand Prix Final in which they skated on the same ice?
That was before The Kiss. That was before Victor Nikiforov consumed Yuuri’s life wholly and without contrition of any kind.
Now, Yuuri feels his heart beat a little faster. He gulps inaudibly as to not attract Victor’s attention with how difficult this may be to say nonchalantly right now, “It can be anything you want it to be.”
Victor pauses his dinner for a second to look at Yuuri’s expression. He is nervous, but Victor can tell that he truly means what he says. After confirming Yuuri’s lack of ingenuity, Victor smiles.
“What do you want this to be?” Yuuri picks up another pork cutlet with his chopsticks and chews slowly before replying.
“We’ll make it a date, then,” Yuuri answers calmly, reaching for his napkin. Victor can’t help but become absolutely infatuated by the man in front of him.
“Let’s make a toast,” The Russian proclaims loudly enough for Yuuri to hear him across the table. “To the first date of many.” Yuuri reaches for his glass of sake as well.
“To the first date of many,” He repeats, taking a sip and smiling through his glass.
The night comes to an end after another hour of conversation between the two lovers. Victor laughs at all of Yuuri’s anecdotes, and Yuuri realizes how Victor may become drunk again if he doesn’t carefully watch how many glasses he downs.
Victor hails a cab and has them driven to their hotel. As Yuuri watches out the window of the cab, Victor takes Yuuri’s hand and rubs his thumb along the ridge of his knuckles. Yuuri looks over and grins at him, beaming because wow, this is something like love.
Maybe it is love.
The two of them don’t bother with small talk. Yuuri is content with the silence after a noisy, stressful day. (Yuuri’s surprised that Victor isn’t filling the silence with rambling about the Cup of China, but he decides against mentioning that to him.)
Of course, all Yuuri can think about is how he can’t wait to get into pajamas and recapture The Kiss over and over again. Warm, fleece pajamas. A long-sleeved shirt with comfortable pants… And the gentle sweep of Victor’s lips against his in what seemed like a split-second decision to the audience.
It’s “The Kiss,” in all capital letters. They’re the only words that have been running through both Victor and Yuuri’s minds.
It’s the groundbreaking moment that everyone told him would change his entire existence once he experienced a kiss. It sounded ridiculous, but he would be lying if that wasn’t true right now.
Yuuri Katsuki never gave much thought to kisses or even love. He skated and danced in Minako’s ballet class more than half of the time he could have spent considering romance. Lavish parties weren’t his thing, and it wasn’t like he had many friends to go to any of those parties with.
Now, the concept blared in his ears.
A kiss didn’t have to alter everything he lived for. It didn’t have to shake up his perspective and make him feel whole after years of questioning if he was ever enough for anyone, even himself.
For some reason, though, this particular Kiss monopolized his thoughts. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could only see Victor skating across the ice to him, embracing him as their lips met for the first time, and the exchange of loving gazes.
Suddenly, Yuuri wants to see The Kiss objectively so he can experience it as if he is an audience member at the Cup of China. When Victor and Yuuri leave the cab, Yuuri grabs his phone from out of his pocket impulsively. Victor either doesn’t notice or doesn’t comment on it, only closes the door behind Yuuri and walks with him to the hotel’s entrance.
Yuuri scrolls through various reaction videos and finds the recorded moment from the official commentators of the Cup of China. He clicks on the video, making sure to turn down the volume on his phone. Now, Victor turns to Yuuri, chuckling.
“Lyubov moya, it’s far too cold for you to stay outside. Let’s hurry,” Yuuri nods, apologizing before putting away his phone. They walk to an elevator, and to their relief, it’s empty. “After you,” Victor insists, letting Yuuri walk in front of him before Victor follows, making sure to press the right button for their floor.
“What are you thinking about?” Yuuri asks on a whim because there’s no one else around right now to interrupt them or interpret his words as anything else. The elevator dings, but it’s not their floor. Instead, a stranger walks into the elevator. Like playing a game, Victor puts a finger to his lips as he smiles, signaling that his thoughts are secretive when there are others present.
Yuuri scoots closer to Victor while they wait to arrive at their floor. Victor shoots him a look that makes Yuuri nearly weak in the knees, and the stranger simply stares at their phone, listening to the music going off in their headphones.
The music at a volume so loud it can heard from the headphones coupled with the awful elevator music makes Yuuri feel more adventurous as he draws closer to Victor, asking himself how far he’s willing to go in order to satisfy the danger lurking inside of him.
It occurs to Yuuri how him and Victor are in their own realm at the moment. Nothing and no one else matters, and it’s the same world Yuuri has been traipsing through with a dazed expression.
As the stranger exits the elevator, Victor and Yuuri resume their soundless conversation.
“Can I tell you now?” Yuuri asks, and Victor nods, knowing that the same look from earlier has returned because Yuuri’s shoulders are relaxed. Yuuri stands on his tiptoes and leans towards Victor’s ear to whisper, “It keeps replaying in my head.”
Victor doesn’t have to ask what he’s talking about because he already knows. Nevertheless, the tips of Victor’s ears turn crimson.
The elevator door opens with a ding! and the two of them walk to their room in comfortable silence.
At first, Yuuri is feeling alright, and Victor is not questioning exactly what will happen after tonight. Then, the doubt comes creeping in.
Yuuri takes off his coat and hangs it on top of a chair, and Victor follows suit. Yuuri takes his phone out, blushing when he remembers what he was intending to do before Victor interrupted him.
He presses play.
In a matter of seconds, he's brought back to the intense lights, the multiple cameras; all eyes are on Yuuri Katsuki.
The quadruple flip isn’t flawless, but it’s definitely shocking, which is what Victor would have wanted. No one can believe their eyes when they see Yuuri attempt Victor’s signature move. Yuuri finishes his program and has never felt more out of breath in his life.
Yuuri turns to Victor, and he looks… Mad? Sad? Is he crying? He can’t tell.
Then, it happens.
Yuuri holds his hand up to his mouth, tears leaking out as he watches the scene unfold before his very eyes when he couldn’t before. It is real. This has happened. It could happen again.
Yuuri cries quietly when he watches Victor catch him off-guard with The Kiss. He smiles when he looks at the side profiles of him and Victor on the ice. His speakers blast with a resounding cheer from the audience.
He exits out of the application on his phone and goes to sit on the edge of his bed. He swears that the moment was longer than that. He swears that he felt infinite when Victor captured him in an embrace and The Kiss, and even after everything that’s happened that would have erased The Kiss’s trace, he touches his fingers to his lips to see if he can still feel the sensation.
Yuuri feels the bed sink as Victor sits right next to him. Yuuri’s pulse is still as erratic as ever, but he’s feeling more comfortable in his coach’s presence. Very close. Presence.
This is nervous, yet steady. This is yearning. This… Is bliss.