Still Not Gold
by Starlit Purple

Notes: What is this? I'm writing?! Yaaay! *coughs* *clears throat* Hee! Please excuse my excitement. :D I love this show, and I love these guys so much. If anything is going to kick my writing mojo into gear, I'm glad it's this fandom. Enjoy! :)

Usually, Yuuri had low expectations for travelling, but today had gone okay, good even. Victor and Yuuri had made it back to Japan-to much fanfare that Yuuri wasn't nearly as enamored with as his coach was. He was used to that sort of thing, right? Five consecutive titles made the man a celebrity of his own right, but even with his new-shiny!-silver medal, he much preferred the quiet life. Which was why he'd been surprised when Victor had stymied the flow of fans and reporters around them with a quick explanation that it had been a long trip and they were both tired. -Not untrue, by any means, but Victor was usually the sort to soak up attention like a sponge, exhaustion be damned. Yuuri wasn't fooled.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," he told him, leaning into his side as they walked, Makkachin padding softly at Victor's other side. "We could have stayed."

Victor shook his head, reaching for Yuuri's hand and squeezing it tightly in his own. "Crowds aren't your thing. There'll be more opportunities for meeting with the fans and press later." He released his hand and threw his arm around Yuuri's shoulders. "For now, we just got home, you should be celebrating, not stressing out!"

He could feel his cheeks heating up at those words and tried to ignore it. Even after all this time, he was still in disbelief that Victor was with him-had been, for the better part of a year now… What a crazy thought.

He reached into his coat, unable to hide a grin when his fingers brushed over the cool metal hidden underneath. There were no crowds here, no one standing around with a camera waiting for the perfect moment to snap a shot of them. The further they got from the airport, the less interest people seemed to have in them. They were still getting looks with barely-hidden smiles, sometimes even an excited wave or thumbs up. But the super-fans, it seemed, had been left at the last station they'd gotten off at. Not to mention it was getting quite late to be out and about.

Assuring himself that it'd be fine here, he tugged the medal free of his coat, pulling the ribbon taut around his neck as he examined it for probably about the hundredth time since receiving it.

"It's still not gold," he said softly.

"It isn't," Victor told him. He turned, forcing Yuuri to stop when he stepped in front of him and reached out, gently lifting the medal from his fingers. "But this is a personal best for you. Silver! At the Grand Prix Final!"

But...he had failed him! He'd made Victor into a failure as a coach. The entire skating world had been watching, and he'd failed to deliver. It had been a personal best at the Grand Prix Final, he'd even broken a record! A record that Victor himself had set! But he'd flopped on the short program and it had cost him the gold. It was on his lips to apologize, again, for that failing, but the words died in his throat as his surprised eyes caught on Victor's own.

They were close enough that Yuuri could see tears pricking at the corners of his coach's eyes.

"Do you know how far you've come, Yuuri?" He shook his head, possibly in amazement, letting out a huff of air. "I've watched you grow so much in just one season. You are amazing, Yuuri, I wish you could see. You skate with so much heart and it touches so many others in ways I could never imagine. Your soul is beautiful, Yuuri, especially when you set it free on the ice.

"I'm so proud of you, Yuuri."

Yuuri was taken aback by Victor's little speech. Taken aback and touched and so much more that he was really a mess in his head right now. Victor thought that much of him? But…

"But I tarnished your name!" The words slipped out, unbidden. "It was supposed to be gold! I should've performed better for you! I should've-!"

"Shh Yuuri, you're causing a ruckus." He stopped at the light pressure of Victor's finger over his lips. He realized belatedly that his voice had risen, catching a few stares of a different sort from the random souls still out at the late hour.

Victor ignored them, his eyes only on him, sweeping across his face with a mix of fondness and a touch of guilt. He reached up and brushed his fingers along Yuuri's cheek, wiping away his tears.

Yuuri's lip trembled.

Victor wrapped his arms around him, sliding his hands under Yuuri's backpack, and pulled him close. His voice was soft in Yuuri's ear. "I'm sorry, I should have waited until we got home for this." He squeezed him tightly before stepping back, his hands sliding down Yuuri's arms until they found his hands, grasping them gently in his own.

"I really am proud of you, you know? Sure you've had better Eros performances, and of course we both wanted you to take the gold, but I'm not disappointed in you. You've come so far in just one year… You've made me proud to be your coach. I'm glad that I could take you even that far. And we have next year to improve."

Yuuri nodded, pulling his hand from Victor's to wipe at his eyes.

"Although," Victor carried on, a noticeable challenge in his voice, "you're going to have to try even harder next year. You'll have me as your coach and as competition. And I don't intend to go easy on you as either one." He walked his fingers up Yuuri's chin to the tip of his nose and stopped with his pointer finger resting on Yuuri's forehead. He leaned in close and said, seriously, "Besides, I still want to kiss that gold medal of yours, someday."

Yuuri smiled in earnest. "I thought I owed you five?"

Victor turned away from him, tugging on his hand as he headed on down the sidewalk. "If you give me five, Yuuri, I'll marry you a hundred times."

He was glad, for the moment, that Victor was ahead of him. Though he probably already knew how red his face was, and how he was thumbing the ring on his own finger through his glove.

"Now, let's go get you some katsudon! You've earned it," Victor said over his shoulder. Makkachin barked and Victor picked up the pace, nearly dragging Yuuri along behind him.

His silver medal thumped rhythmically against his chest.