Eighteenth fic for a Pride Month prompt challenge from tumblr. Prompt: dance.

Viktor knows full well – as does pretty much everyone else – that Yuuri can dance. He's seen Yuuri do it on the ice, and he watched him beat Yuri in a dance off while completely wasted. No one will ever forget the sight of Yuuri in his underwear and shirt, twined around a pole, casting a seductive gaze Viktor's way... except for Yuuri, of course, who instead will never forget how mortified he was when he saw the photos.

So it's frustrating now, seeing Yuuri falter on such simple choreography. He knows Yuuri's been dancing for longer than he's been skating. He knows Yuuri can grasp it so why isn't he? After another instance of Yuuri nervously forgetting which foot he's meant to be leading with, Viktor steps back and turns off the music. When he turns to face Yuuri, he suppresses a look of impatience and takes a deep breath.

"Yuuri, what's wrong?" he asks, keeping his voice light.

Yuuri shakes his head. "I don't know."

"You must know," Viktor says.

"I don't," insists Yuuri, but he's not meeting Viktor's gaze.

"Yuuri."

"Just drop it."

"You know I can't – we can't."

"I know."

"Yuuri... please tell me what's wrong?"

"I can't."

"Do you want to go over the bit just before the chorus again?"

"No, I know it."

"Then wh–"

"Viktor." Yuuri's tone is strained, taut over his nerves. "Look, I know I have – we have to get this right, I know how important it is and I know the choreography."

"Then what's holding you back?"

"I don't know."

"But you do, Yuuri, I know you and I know you know."

"I..." Yuuri looks up at Viktor, eyes swimming in tears.

"Yuuri..."

Viktor doesn't even think about putting his arms around Yuuri before he does it. He's warm in the circle of Viktor's arms, face flushed and shoulders shaking. Viktor kisses his forehead, his nose, his wet cheeks, rubbing soothingly up and down Yuuri's back with his hands.

"Hey, it's okay," he says, over and over, trying to calm Yuuri because he knows if Yuuri's anxiety is left unchecked he'll worry himself into a hole in the floor. "Angel, it's okay. I love you so much. You can tell me anything you're thinking and you know I'll always love you."

Yuuri sniffs, tries to regain his composure. "I... I... er..." He coughs once, straightens up, tries to meet Viktor's eyes. "I'm... scared."

Viktor smiles a little, trying to look reassuring. "What are you scared of?"

"I... I'm scared of... messing up," says Yuuri haltingly. "At the wedding. I don't want to embarrass you. I've been having dreams about getting it wrong and everyone laughing."

Viktor's heart swells and he hugs Yuuri back into a tight hug, winding him.

"Agh!" Yuuri splutters. "Viktor, breathing!"

"You could never embarrass me," says Viktor, the tenderness in his voice giving Yuuri pause in his protestations. "You're my Yuuri. I don't really care about the choreography. If we get it wrong, we improvise and we laugh and no one will know."

Yuuri's shaking with tears again, but there's a smile on his face.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me... apart from the dog."

Yuuri pulls away and whacks Viktor in the shoulder, but he's laughing.

"See, there's that smile."

Yuuri flushes, wiping tears from his cheeks. "I love you, you idiot."

"I love you too," smiles Viktor. "Let's ditch this, we'll wing it and it'll be fine."