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“Isn’t Yurio looking for you?”
Viktor smiles that calm, utterly unabashed smile he often wears whenever he thinks Yuuri is saying or doing anything unreasonable. Yuuri breathes out his fond exasperation in a sigh, because while Viktor is acting strangely, Yuuri can’t deny that he likes being able to see him without having to explicitly ask that he come by.
Still.
“He’s going to be really angry at you,” Yuuri says, turning away from Viktor to return his focus on his student- and what a thought that was, having his own student-, who has managed to land a toe loop the moment Yuuri’s gaze finds him. “You know he doesn’t like it when you don’t take your coaching seriously,” he adds, offering a smile at Minami, who pauses in his figure-eights in the middle of the rink to wave an enthusiastic greeting at him.
“Shouldn’t he be happy that I feel he doesn’t need my supervision? It implies that I trust him to do well without me having to look into every detail of his program,” Viktor asks, sidling up to Yuuri and bumping their shoulders together in a quite plea for affection.
Yuuri immediately puts a halt to that by stepping aside, the tiny action giving them enough space that Yuuri can breathe without having to smell Viktor’s (very, very) expensive cologne. (Viktor is immensely hurt by this, because why? What kind of husband would deny him his touch like this? He was just trying to be sweet!) Yuuri says, “He would be, if he didn’t know that you were just wasting your time with me.”
“Every hour with you-”
“-is not a waste, I know, you have told me this so many times now,” Yuuri says, sighing under his breath before raising a hand and waving it to catch Minami’s attention. Minami halts in his skating and Yuuri gestures at his own leg while raising it, mouthing “sloppy”, which Minami quickly understands going by his determined expression and his return to doing his step sequence.
“But you don’t always seem to believe it, so I thought the idea bore repeating,” Viktor says matter-of-factly, completely ignoring Yuuri’s half-hearted rebuffs and swiftly swinging an arm up and around Yuuri’s back. His warmth is a welcome thing in the cool temperature of the ice rink, but Yuuri really, really, does not want to be that guy who readily melts into his partner’s touch just because he’s in love. It’s too sappy, isn’t it? Too lame?
And yet.
He melts anyway, leaning back into Viktor’s touch and tilting his head so it’s bumping against Viktor’s temple, which brings out an expression so pleased on Viktor’s face that Yuuri can’t help from feeling a flutter of pride in his chest at getting such a reaction without even having to actually do anything.
But all good things can only last for so long, and Yurio has never been the type to patiently wait for anything or anyone.
“VIKTOR!”
Yuuri exhales, holding back a laugh when he notices the annoyed look flittering briefly on Viktor’s face before disappearing completely. Placid smile on his pink lips, Viktor says as Yurio approaches them from across the rink, “Ah, Yura, it seems you’ve found me-”
“Don’t mess with me!” Yurio yells back, clearly bent on screaming their eardrums off as he points a finger in Viktor’s direction, “You promised you’d coach me, so fucking do it! Don’t mess around with katsudon just because he’s not always there anymore!”
“I only wanted to talk to him for a little bit-”
“What, and you’re completely ignoring that he has his own student to teach? How pathetic are you?”
“Yura-”
“It’s surprising,” Minami’s voice suddenly chips in behind Yuuri, jolting him back into attention and away from the scene Yurio and Viktor are playing out like a cliché drama.
He turns away from the arguing pair once he figures they won’t be stopping any time soon, instead putting his attention on Minami who (oddly enough) looks like he’s entertained by the argument growing into full bloom as Yurio waves his hands in an attempt to fully express his frustration with Viktor. “What is?” he asks, his own gaze returning to the pair when he notices the contemplative look on Minami’s face.
“That Viktor Nikiforov knows how to be jealous at all,” Minami answers, rousing a laugh from Yuuri at the sheer ridiculousness of his idea. Viktor? Jealous? “It’s true!” Minami insists, fists clenched in a show of determination as he leans over the rink barrier to better explain himself. “That’s why he came over here, even when he was supposed to be training Russian Yuri. You should have seen the look on his face when you ignored him for me, Coach!”
What look on his face?
“That one!” Minami suddenly exclaims as though he were capable of reading Yuuri’s mind (which is enough of a scary thought that he consciously reroutes all of his previous thoughts on safer, plainer paths), pointing eagerly that Yuuri can’t help himself from looking at where he’s pointing.
And there, standing at the end of Minami’s pointed index finger, is Viktor: placid smile gone on his face as he looks at Minami, then Yuuri, then to the space where they’re barely separated by the rink barrier.
Oh, he thinks, swallowing- and swallowing nervously again when Viktor’s eyes trace the bob of his adam’s apple with all the intensity of a man possessed by- by- something.
So there is a look, he thinks vaguely, feeling the heat of embarrassment at being so oblivious rise up on his cheeks.
Maybe Minami wasn’t so wrong after all.