Viktuuri #27: A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips
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The soft murmur of conversations washes over Victor as he quietly sips his champagne. Surprisingly, he manages to steer himself away from the crowds of well wishers. It’s his fifth consecutive gold at the Grand Prix Final, but the only thing he could think of was how much his cheeks hurt from forcing a smile. The small group surrounding him has dwindled down to a few other skaters. All of them chit chatting and trying to enjoy themselves until their coaches insisted that they come market themselves to yet another representative. They seem to be having fun, and don’t notice if Victor half-follows the conversation, contributing the occasional nod or smile.
In his head, he knows that the party is loud and bright. But everyone’s voices seem muffled. Colors faded. Ah. He blinks slowly, a memory rising of diving into the hotel pool at one competition or another – it hardly mattered, they all blurred together. He’d sunk to the bottom, enjoying the cool water. Sounds from the surface had been mottled and distant. The quiet had settled around him like a cloak. Victor feels like he’s slipped back to the bottom of the water again. Idly he wonders if this is some sort of sign. Like maybe the growing dissatisfaction of the past few years has finally caught up with him. Maybe the whispers on social media and news sources were right to wonder if this year was his last. Maybe he’d –
Victor’s eyes suddenly refocus on the people standing around him. They’re all looking at him expectantly. Oh. There must have been a question. It’s only a fraction of a second before he pulls on his trademark smile, tossing his silver bangs to one side. “Forgive me,” he says, willing the smile to stay in place. “I must be worn out from the fierce competition this year. My thoughts were a million miles away.”
The girl – one of the ice dancer pairs, he remembers – giggles, placing a hand on his arm and leaning in close. “Already planning for your next victory at Europeans? No one came within 30 points of you, Victor. You can take it easy, you know.” She laughs, the others following behind like it’s something to be happy about.
Another bright smile, wider than the last. “Now, now. If I took your suggestion, surely I’d fall out of practice and my competitors would rightfully wipe the ice with me,” Victor says smoothly. He turns back to the man who’d originally jarred him from his thoughts. “I am sorry, but what were you asking?”
The man gestures across the room with his champagne flute in hand. “I was asking what you thought about Katsuki. He seems pretty friendly with your rinkmate, so I figured you must know him at least a bit.”
Following the line of the man’s arm, Victor sure enough spots Yuri Plisetsky, a promising young skater from Victor’s home rink who would be headed into seniors next year. Yuri is currently scowling at a dark haired man who looks vaguely familiar. “I don’t know him, but he looks like he’s giving little Yura a run for his money.” The group laughs and conversation quickly moves on, but Victor continues to watch this mystery man. Whoever he is gestures emphatically, earnestly even. As he talks, he leans in closer and closer, obviously making Yuri even more flustered. What’s most surprising is that Yuri doesn’t seem to be angry – or at least not just angry, that’s his default setting – but also…is that embarrassment? Well. This might be the first interesting thing that’s happened to Victor all week. Or at least since Makkachin learned that new trick!
Victor glances around, trying to spot Yakov, curious what their coach thinks of this interesting development. His eyes swept the crowd, landing on the glowering countenance of Yakov in all his glory. Victor knows that he’s spotted Yuri by the way his normal expression of irritation turned blood red, his scowl lines deepening the longer he stared across the room at his young protégé. Yakov turns and locks eyes with Victor, jerking his head sharply towards the corner where Yuri and Katsuki were still going back and forth.
At this point, Victor can’t tell if it was an actual argument or if they are having a friendly-but-heated discussion. With a small sigh, he excuses himself from the conversation which has continued flowing around him without a hitch. As he walks purposefully across the room, nodding and smiling without pausing to various people who call out to him, he wonders if anyone actually needs him. Or if they just want a gold medal winner to stand and smile without interacting. It’s only a handful of steps now, and Victor starts catching snippets of the conversation (argument?).
“– can’t be two – battle – only one man left standing!” Yuri is inches from Katsuki’s face, not quite yelling. “You better not chicken out, idiot!” he says, tossing his blonde hair back. “The winner of this dance off gets exclusive rights to the name Yuri for seniors.” He glares and jabs Katsuki hard in the chest with one finger.
Pushing back against Yuri’s finger, Katsuki sways and smiles. When he speaks, it’s slurred and a tad louder than socially acceptable. “Deal! But we need judges, little Yuri.” Victor finds himself pressing his lips together to hide a smile. He’s not quite sure if it’s because he is – very obviously – drunk, but Katsuki has a slight accent. It’s not as pronounced as his own when he speaks English, but the slight lilt gives Katsuki’s words an almost musical quality that Victor really likes.
Katsuki doesn’t give Yuri a chance to do anything but sputter at the moniker. He’s already turning a shaky gaze towards the crowd. When his eyes land on Victor, they light up and double in size. He walks towards Victor; his feet tangle, sending him reeling forward. Victor jerks in surprise, throwing his arms out and catching him before Katsuki can hit the floor. “Oops!” he chuckles without a hint of remorse. He brings his eyes, still shining, up and winks at Victor saying, “You’ll judge for us right?”
For once, Victor is completely speechless. “I –”, he stutters before regaining his composure. “Of course! I’m always happy to help!” He blinks, mind spinning rapidly in an attempt to keep up with this whirlwind of a man. Katsuki and Yuri trade a few more verbal jabs, teasing and bragging. Which is frankly amazing. Yuri has always been a little cut-off from others. Not reserved, the young skater processed everything through a filter of teen rage. But here he is laughing and dancing – albeit mockingly at the other Yuri. The two quickly work their way through a few warm up acrobatics, putting their skater’s bodies to work.
“Like what you see?” a deep voice behind Victor asks. Chris moves up to stand beside him, pushing the limits of Victor’s personal boundaries to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. He nimbly plucks a coat out of the air without missing a beat, and Victor sees He purses his lips and tips his head in the direction of the two dancers.
His eyes are drawn immediately to Katsuki – Yuri, he reminds himself. His movements are unconstrained and fluid, the alcohol loosening his limbs along with any inhibitions he might have. His hair is disheveled from the many times his hands have run through it. Now that jacket is gone, the dress shirt stretches tight over defined chest and arms, and Victor feels warmth flood his cheeks. This Katsuki Yuri is attractive. The man in question is balanced on one hand, shirt rucked up and exposing toned abs, while he throws his legs in the air. Victor feels his mouth drop open slightly. Very attractive.
Chris’s laugh rings out, pulling Victor back out of his thoughts. He casually studies Victor from the corner of his eye. Whatever reaction he was looking for, it must have amused him. A sly smile makes an appearance. “He moves beautifully on the ice, too. I was surprised by his performance today,” he says.
Victor startles, whipping his head around. Performance today? He turns to stare again at Katsuki Yuri. Katsuki Yuri, his competitor. God, how out of touch has he become? Suddenly the party which had turned bright is overcome by a dark cloud. Chris is turned now to chat with someone else who came up to watch as well – Mila, he thinks – and Victor is left with his thoughts again. He can’t believe that he didn’t see it before. It’s been a long time since he’s paid any attention to his competition. But not knowing their name or face? He’s struck with another wave of sadness and fights to keep his face neutral.
Both Yuri’s seem to be having the time of their life, and Victor wants. He wants to laugh without forcing it out of his throat. He wants to smile without feeling like it’s in danger of falling off his face. He wants to belong somewhere again instead of just taking up a role. And most of all he wants to feel something other than blank weariness and resignation. As Victor listens to Katsuki’s laugh sound over the muffled noise of the banquet crowd, he finds himself wanting to laugh, too.
And it’s as Victor is standing there, feeling himself sinking back down into the quiet, sad place in his own mind that Katsuki darts forward. Yuri is bent over, winded and clearly spent. Katsuki grabs Victor’s hand, his face suddenly serious. Victor looks down at him, face a flushed mess from exertion and alcohol. His tie is loosened; and, honestly, he looks like some kind of dream when he raises one brow. Victor wonders if maybe it had been evident that he hadn’t fulfilled his duties as a judge. But…as Katsuki holds his gaze, he catches the hint of a smirk dancing on the corner of his lips. Katsuki’s lips move, but it takes Victor a moment to make out the words through the drunken slur and accented English. “Victor! Dance with me?” It’s formed as a question, but the teasing dare is obvious in his voice. Victor is tugged forward with no real chance to respond, but as he gets swept up in the whirlwind that is Katsuki Yuri, a sense of real happiness envelopes him and his heart swells with….something a bit more. And Victor finds that he doesn’t mind being pulled along after all.
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