Disclaimer: I do not own Yuuri on Ice


There's a quiet urgency to the way they get to the bed. They had pushed the two hotel beds together earlier, when they had arrived, but now they can clearly see it's completely useless anyway, since it'd make it impossible to cuddle. And despite how eager they both are to get into the bed and lose themselves into each other's body, there's also the knowledge that afterwards they'll want to cuddle together until the next morning.

It's sort of desperate, almost drowned in over emotional tears, and it's quick, almost a little too quick. But they can't complain. They lazily help each other into their pijamas and lace their arms and legs back together as soon as they're under the bedsheets. Victor makes high pitched sounds that resemble those of an excited Makkachin, making Yuuri laugh, and then they both yawn in synchrony.

Yuuri's fingers find Victor's hair and he threads them through the silvery locks. It's been a while since Victor last complained about it, instead, he cuddles even closer. Yuuri has the random impression that, if the man could purr, he'd be doing it right now. It makes him chuckle, and Victor nips at his shoulder in retaliation.

There's warmth between them, the bedsheets retaining the heat as their bodies slowly cool off, and the tension ebbs out of their muscles after a long day, leaving them to idly play with each other's hair and fingers, both of their will powers slowly wavering off. Yuuri yawns again, and then takes a deep breath, and with it comes Victor's familiar cologne, almost gone after the day, and underneath it, his own personal smell, powerful, intoxicating, and so, so sweet, it leaves his head swimming in a sea of overwhelmed feelings. The air conditioner is buzzing in a corner, Victor's slow and steady breathing just below his ear in a stark contrast, and both sounds are making him feel really, really sleepy.

That is, until his fingers slide from Victor's hair down to the space between them, ready to fall fully asleep, and there's a quiet metallic sound that makes both of them blink their eyes open.

"Hmm...?" is everything that Yuuri manages to say. Victor doesn't reply, but there's a new, additional warmth to his face when he presses it against Yuuri's shoulder once more.

He laces their fingers together, and toys with the golden ring around Victor's finger. It fits perfectly, and in his sleepy haze, he'd almost forgotten it was there. He feels a surge of warmth on his chest, pooling around his heart, making it feel like it's swelling, like it's suddenly hard to breath properly.

"Vitya" he says, partially because he knows Victor likes it, partially because the softness of the nickname compared to the abrupt sound of the 'ct' in 'Victor' rolls better out of his tongue when he's this tired, and feels this in love.

"Yura?" he replies, and Yuuri tightens his grip on his fingers. Victor chuckles under his breath.

There are a thousand things he could tell him now. So many, it takes him a moment to choose. All of them would be true, but would any of them truly convey his feelings?

'I love you'

'I feel so lucky with you'

'This feels like a dream'

'I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you... I love you so much...'

He ends up saving them both the sappy and embarrassing moment, instead turning his head just so until his lips are pressed against Victor's head. He hears the man exhale, amusedly.

"Спасибо ." ((Spasibo / Thank you)) he says instead, and while he isn't sure Victor understands, he knows that's a very accurate description of his feelings.

"Нет, Юра. Спасибо тебе" ((Net, Yura. Spasibo tebe / No, Yura. Thank you))

Yuuri doesn't want to argue. He doesn't know why Victor would thank him, he also doesn't want to dwell on it. He's never been good at getting hints in this kind of situation anyway, and he probably deserves it for giving him exactly the same cryptic answer just before.

They don't say anything more. They do keep their fingers intertwined, and the occasional clink of the rings against each other still manages to send shivers through their backs every time. Being this close, they can feel each other's trembling in their arms, and it's almost surreal to think that, no matter what happens in their respective careers, if... no, when Yuuri wins gold, they'd get married. Yuuri doesn't want to think much about it either. He doesn't want to think about laws, he doesn't want to think about where, or when, or who they'd have to invite. He doesn't want to give himself that much hope. He knows himself, though, and his own traitorous heart. He knows he can't help it falling into sync with Victor's own pulse beside him.

Falling asleep is easy. They're both tired, they've had a long day and another long one awaits, next morning. But right there, in their little cocoon of warmth and safety, Yuuri doesn't allow himself to get psyched out. He feels calm, for probably the first time ever before a competition. He's warm, surrounded by messy bedsheets and a handful of Russian, all tangled up together, but even so, there's no denying that he's comfortable. He's got his arms tucked around Victor's shoulders, and he can't begin to understand how their legs are linked, but all of it just adds to how perfect the moment is. He wouldn't trade it for anything. Victor is probably already asleep, he knows, as he buries his nose next to his hair and allows the scent of his shampoo to permeate his very being. That is fine. Victor always wakes up early, while Yuuri sleeps in. Tomorrow will be no different. Victor will order room service, wake up Yuuri and give him a pep talk to get him ready.

As he drifts off to sleep, though, Yuuri realizes he doesn't need a pep talk. He just needs Victor to stay by his side.


Translation help from mailka (tumblr)

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~Lena