Disclaimer: I do not own Yuuri on Ice
There's a pause, a moment in which everyone is quiet, and then a snort. A snort that raises heads, and all eyes are suddenly on Yuuri, and then he's laughing. Laughing like there's no tomorrow, like breathing is secondary, like there's nothing funnier than Yakov's scruffy "That has to be the sloppiest salchow I've ever seen.", complete with a Russian swear at the end and a hint of offense in his voice, like the jump had done something unnameable to him.
Not the reaction he expected, that's clear, because the old coach looks way past curiosity and straight into annoyance. The rest of the skaters, however, look very curious. Mila slides closer to Yuuri, helping him stay upright because he's laughing so much that he can barely stand on his own skates.
And while no one seems to understand, in a fleeting moment Yuuri looks up and his eyes meet those of a young Yurio, who's struggling really hard not to laugh too, until he can't. And they laugh. They laugh together, and the rink is dead quiet aside from them. It's almost eerie, for a moment, until Yurio speaks again.
"I told you he sounded like the old man!" he all but wheezes out, and it only serves to double Yuuri's gasping chortles. He's barely breathing, and Mila pats his back softly, a confused smile on her own face.
"Are they both roasting Victor somehow? That's literally the only thing they can agree on." Georgi wonders, and it seems like the right answer because it only makes Yurio snort his dignity away, grasping at the air before falling on his butt in the middle of the rink, and Yuuri wheeze out a gasping breath, tears falling down his cheeks.
Victor isn't there that morning. He's sick. But one thing's for sure — he's in for a hell of a teasing husband once Yuuri gets home that night.
Thanks for reading~!
~Lena