Chapter 12

The night went by in peace and silence and deep sleep, curled up around each other and into their blankets.

Yuuri could have stayed like this forever. He could have spent the rest of his life sleeping like this.

"Viktor! Oi!"

Alas, the peace was temporary.

"Viktor, you awake?!"

Next to him Viktor groaned and mumbled something Yuuri did not get. It sounded Russian.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Is Katsuki with you?! Hope you are dressed!"

Yuuri opened an eye and spotted a single, small, fuzzy light. Slowly he grasped around until he found his glasses and put them on.

Viktor's features were unclear and mostly shrouded in darkness. "Yura's in a good mood."

"Delightful as ever," Yuuri agreed. "Morning!" he called.

Behind the screen the lights grew in number and finally one came around, held by Plisetsky, whose regular display of disgruntlement was exaggerated by the shadows his lamp cast on his face. "Urgh, you two."

"Morning." Viktor yawned and stretched, wrapping an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, leaning his head against Yuuri's temple. "Morning, love," he whispered, apparently low enough for Plisetsky to not hear them, but apparently the kiss he pressed on Yuuri's cheek did not escape his attention, since Plisetsky reacted with something that, as Yuuri decided, fit the description of a screech.

"Morning." He turned towards Viktor to kiss him as well. True enough, Plisetsky gave them another earful of his dulcet tones. Truly a star tenor.

"Cut it out you two, will you!"

"Same argument as against your suggestion that I should not walk around naked in my own living space," Viktor chirped. "I live here, I can do as I like."

"Urgh." Plisetsky waved. "Get dressed, you idiots! I set the table! Can't bear looking at you!"

"Aw, he's jealous," Viktor chuckled.

"Leave him alone, will you." But Yuuri was in too good a mood to raise his voice to something more than a gently chiding lilt.

"Alright, but only for now. You know he's too much fun to tease."

Yuuri made sure Plisetsky was on the other side of the screen before he pulled Viktor close to him. "Yes, you love teasing so very much. Maybe you want some experience with it next time?" He then leaned over to breathe the barest hint of a kiss against his lips. "Just a thought."

Viktor blinked at him and even in the dim light around them Yuuri could see that he was blushing.

He liked that view very much. "Let's get dressed, shall we, before he gets mad again."

Viktor blinked again as Yuuri got up and went on to change into clean underwear and shirt and yesterday's trousers before he went out to help Plisetsky with the breakfast.

The boy did not look at him. "Finally done?"

"Since yesterday night, to be precise," Yuuri answered, watching in amusement as Plisetsky turned beet red to the roots of his fair hair, even bringing some colour to the grey shadows underneath his eyes. "Thank you for your concern."

"Urgh, shut up!" Plisetsky grabbed the kettle and stomped to the back of the cave in order to fetch water.

Viktor, finally dressed (the pirate trousers again – one day Yuuri would buy him another proper pair, just so he could enjoy the view), came around the screen. "And I am supposed to not tease him?" He asked smiling.

"I at least do not try on purpose," Yuuri countered. "He finds the offence himself."

Plisetsky came back and busied himself with the kettle, giving Viktor the chance to take a close look at him.

"You look quite tired," he observed. "Had a long night?"

"Yes."

"Probably more than only one long night in a row, even," Viktor continued, his voice dangerously sweet and high-spirited.

Yuuri braced his ears for the screeching that undoubtedly would eventually ensue.

For now no screeching commenced, though. "Yeah, so? Not like you always were home on time once you started hanging out with some singers here." Plisetsky crossed his arms and turned to Viktor.

Yuuri had to agree; the boy looked like he was at least a week short of proper sleep. Did he have to be on stage tonight? Yuuri hoped not; maybe he could talk Viktor into tying him to the bed and get him to rest a bit. Very likely Viktor would not need much convincing for that.

"Yes, but Yakov always knew whom I was with and could be sure that I don't catch anything. How about you?" He gave Plisetsky a look that was almost completely genuine concern and the amused twinkle that accompanied it marred the sentiment only a little.

"What?" Either Plisetsky wanted to make sure he got Viktor's insinuation right or he was too tired to have caught on yet.

"I mean, I am glad that you show interest in romance - you are at that age - and I am happy that you found someone you want to spend your time with. I really am."

Yuuri watched as Plisetsky's face turned first even paler and then a truly ugly shade of purple and braced himself.

Viktor was either oblivious or did not care for the condition of his ears or his general well-being. "But I do hope you know how to keep yourself healthy. Is your partner alright? No diseases? If you notice any rashes or an itch, please go see a doctor, but I would rather you would not let it come to that."

"What…" Now Yuuri was sure Plisetsky had simply been too tired to catch up up until now. "What… you are… this is disgusting!" He shuddered for emphasis.

"Yes, talking about your love life can be a bit embarrassing, I know, but I am always here to listen." Viktor reached out to clasp Plisetsky's shoulder, but the boy slapped his hand away. "Urgh! Eat without me, I lost my appetite!" With that he turned around and stomped away.

Yuuri shook his head. "He will be unbearable for the whole day. I hope you plan on making up to me for this."

"I always do," Viktor declared, sounding somewhat miffed. Then he sighed. "So it is no blushing young romance that keeps him awake."

"Sure?" Yuuri sat down and started cutting slices of bread from the small loaf he had brought yesterday. "He seems the sort that denies possessing tender feelings of any nature."

"He would have reacted differently then. More embarrassed. Less disgusted."

Ah. So Viktor had caught on to Plisetsky's reaction. Yuuri cut off a few slices of cheese. "You could ask him directly."

"I tried." The words fell through the air like leaden weights, hit the ground and resonated.

Yuuri looked up. Viktor was sitting next to him, his head hanging low, face buried in his hands. His shoulders were hanging.

"I really tried, but he will not tell me. Or listen to me for that matter." He gently rubbed his temples. "Or why did you think I tried to get an answer by annoying him. It is not like he leaves me any choice in that matter."

"He is young. I guess it's normal to stay out late," Yuuri pointed out.

"Yes. It is. And I do not mind. I really do not. I would be glad if he finally developed something like a social life. Or the skills that are necessary for it." He laughed, short and slightly resigned. "But last time he was like that it turned out his new friends were of a mind to kill the king and... " Now he drew a somewhat ragged breath. "They got caught when things went south here. Some could escape, some got shot or hanged when the whole mess was somewhat over. It was in the papers."

"It was that bad?" Yuuri had known that the revolt had been the mess that revolts tended to be. He had not, however, known how deeply Plisetsky had been involved. Then again, why was he even surprised?

Viktor answered with a curt nod. "A few of them were stage hands. And then of course Richard Wagner." He spat out the name like something bitter. "Yuri had promised to not get involved, no matter his sympathies. Imagine how well that went. Long story short - I overheard him talking to one of his friends about setting a time and date. Neither time nor the fact that they discussed what sort of guns they would get pointed to a simple get-together. Yakov gave him some opium. Brought him down here for good measure."

Yuuri reached out, put a hand on Viktor's shoulder and then pulled him a bit closer to him.

Viktor flinched for a moment but then leaned against him. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Yuuri let him stay silent for a moment before remarking, "He is a bit of a difficult one, huh?"

"Always was. I would not want for him to be any different, but sometimes it is a bit..." Viktor struggled for a moment to find the right word. "Frustrating. Anyways, he was understandably angry. Well, not that he is ever not somewhat angry with me."

Yuuri ran a hand through Viktor's hair. "Mr. Feltsman seems to hold some sway over him, though."

He nodded against Yuuri's shoulder. "Hm. He does. Not much anymore, though. They still share quarters, however... " Now Viktor sat up. "Say, can you ask Yakov to meet me? He will know where and when."

Yuuri wondered what the use of this would be. What Viktor said did not exactly sound like Mr. Feltsman would know anything about what his protégé was up to either.

"I will," he said nonetheless, because what else could he say? "But only if you eat now. You can continue worrying when you have the energy for it." With that he quickly buttered up a slice of bread and put some cheese on it before pushing it towards Viktor. "There. Eat."

Viktor laughed again and this time it actually did sound like a laugh. "How did I get so lucky to have you?"

"Good voice," Yuuri answered promptly. "Good looks. Very interesting habits in your communication." He smiled. "Eat."

Viktor took a bite.

"I might add obedience to the list," Yuuri chuckled while taking a bite of his own bread, flushing it down with some tea.

Viktor's mouth twitched. "This depends entirely on what you demand obedience on."

Yuuri decided it was wiser not to answer this if he wanted to be upstairs on time for today's rehearsal. Instead he just smiled, finishing his bread and then starting to prepare another few slices he stacked up on another, two on two, cheese between them. He packed them into a small cloth and tucked them away before handing another slice of buttered bread to Viktor.

Viktor ate up and so did Yuuri.

"I have to go now." He got up and bent over to press a kiss on Viktor's cheek. "Please don't worry too much, yes?"

Viktor pulled him back down and kissed him on the lips."I'll try. Thank you."

And then Yuuri really had to go.

Chorus rehearsal went well enough, with them obediently singing their lines without missing out on one and then listening to what Mr. Feltsman had found faulty, repeating, listening again, repeating. As rehearsals went, it was not half as bad and it was certainly more enjoyable than any dress rehearsals for the Vampyr they ever had. Yuuri already thanked his good stars for the fact that this monstrosity of an opera was only slated for a rather short run time. Less suffering for all of them.

Afterwards he chatted a bit with Johannes and Andreas who had discovered a new sugar spinner nearby and were describing the sweetmeats he could procure and how neither of them would have ever thought cinnamon or ginger to be so well suited for fruity confections.

Yuuri listened with attention, making a mental note to take a closer look. if the goods were not too expensive he probably would occasionally send a bag to Johannes. And get some for Viktor, who, despite all his protestations of the contrary Yuuri strongly suspected to have a distinctive sweet tooth.

He noticed Plisetsky leaning against a beam and glaring at them.

"Brr," Andreas declared, shuddering, "look at him. One could think he's aiming for the Lord Ruthwen. Without needing any stage make-up."

"Yes." Johannes nodded gravely. "And you noticed how he dashed off last night."

"If I was him I'd skip rehearsal today and sleep it off."

Yuuri shrugged. "He probably will do that only after having passed out and have Mr. Feltsman send him home."

"Sounds more like you than anything else," Johannes commented. "Alright, see you tomorrow!" He waved and turned around to leave.

Mr. Feltsman called, "Soloists! On spot! All of you!"

Yuuri hurried back out on stage, nodding a greeting to Sara Crispino in passing.

He went through his parts, listened to the criticism had for him and sang again, more to Mr. Feltsman's pleasure this time. Not that it meant too much, but it was good to hear that Mr. Feltsman saw improvement in him.

As soon as he was finished he went over to Plisetsky, who leaned against a beam and watched his peers labouring through their parts.

"Hello again. And good morning."

Plisetsky raised an eyebrow at him. "Started bad enough."

Yuuri shrugged. "Well, you said yourself, he is a bit of a handful on occasion."

"He's worse when he had..." Plisetsky squirmed quite a bit before he finished, "sex."

Yuuri felt his ears grow warm. "I am no judge of that. Yet."

Plisetsky squirmed again and it was almost amusing.

"You left without breakfast," Yuuri continued, digging into the pocket of his jacket. "Are you hungry?"

"What?! What – no!"

Of course, this was the exact moment Plisetsky's stomach decided to rumble. How else could it be?

Yuuri chuckled and procured the packet of bread and cheese he had wrapped earlier. "Here. You cannot sing on an empty stomach."

Plisetsky blinked, then looked at the packet and finally grabbed it. "You won't give me peace unless I eat, I suppose?"

"Exactly." Yuuri watched as Plisetsky unwrapped the packet and took a first bite of his belated breakfast. His face immediately relaxed.

"Never let anyone get between you and your breakfast," he advised. "No matter what, food."

Plisetsky nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, whatever." He ate in silence and with obvious appetite.

On stage, the rehearsals of the three principal players finished their last round and Mr. Feltsman clapped his hands. "Finished for today! Dress rehearsal at Friday! Be ready!" Their little congregation fell apart and Yuuri was gathering his things when Mr. Feltsman walked over to him. "Katsuki."

He flinched and then quickly straightened his posture.

Mr. Feltsman had his eyes run over him and then turned to Plisetsky. "You go ahead, boy."

Plisetsky shrugged and went off without even saying goodbye.

Mr. Feltsman looked up and down on Yuuri once more. "You have a corset?"

What? "No." Yuuri shook his head. "Never needed one."

Mr. Feltsman waved his hand sharply. "Wrong. You need one. For singing. It helps you sing."

Viktor had said something like that. Yuuri wondered if he had something to do with Mr. Feltsman's sudden idea.

"No, I don't have one," he repeated.

Mr. Feltsman kept his face even. "I see. In the Bohemian Alley is a store for men's undergarments. They sell some. Mass production. Good quality, though. Go there."

"I will look into it." Yuuri sighed. Mass production or not, corsets still cost money. Then he remembered. Checking that nobody was around to eavesdrop he said, lowering his voice, "our mutual friend wants to talk to you."

Mr. Feltsman raised an eyebrow.

Yuuri forced himself to breathe evenly. "He said you would know where and when."

"Do. Was surprised you call that twat my friend. He is lots of things. Friend not one of them."

That was unexpectedly harsh, even for him.

"No children you have yet?"

Again Yuuri shook his head. "Dear God, no."

"Ah." Mr. Feltsman nodded again. "If you ever have - your children are not your friends." then he sighed once more. "Out. Eat or something. Performance tonight, be well rested."

With that Yuuri was dismissed and free to go about whatever business he had to go about.

A few hours later he was back, had sung in tonight's show and had actually managed to both do well and to remember afterwards what he had sung and done and how he had felt. That was probably a good thing. He hoped that it was a good thing.

The soloists took their bows to a rather lukewarm applause; the Vampyr was most definitely not doing it for the audience on its third night of staging. Yuuri certainly could not begrudge them for it, although he had to admit that he felt bad for the soloists. They were front and centre of every performance and it was most certainly not their fault that the opera was a heaping pile of weirdness. Or maybe it was just the general current mood that was considering something like the Vampyr a heaping pile of weirdness.

The soloists however would very likely catch at least some of the blame for a failed production and a few too many of these - many times one was enough - could very likely kill a so far very successful career.

At the very least Yuuri could be confident that Undine would do nothing of the kind to him. And if his career indeed got nipped in the bud - well, nobody could prevent him from continuing to work as an unassuming, nondescript chorus singer, right?

The troupe came into the wings and immediately lost any smiles they might have held.

"Urgh," Mila grumbled, "That was the most polite applause I have ever heard."

"Which might be even worse than no applause at all." Sara Crispino sighed. "When there is no applause at all then we at least left some impression. Like that, you will never know until the newspapers next day and even then it is not always sure." She turned to Andreas, who from the people of the chorus stood the closest to her. She was smiling again, friendly and genuine. "You all worked your hardest, so do not think this is in any way your fault."

"Wise words, wise words," Johannes Erhardt agreed. "Good night then, you all, have fun, you earned it!"

Mila smiled. "See you tomorrow. Andreas, you remember that you are supposed to practise the Huldbrand parts tomorrow?"

"Yes." Andreas' cheeks flushed. "Yes I do - I did! I still do!"

Both Mila and Sara chuckled in good humour.

"You apparently need sleep more than any of us," Sara commented. "Or whatever else you all do to unwind. Have a fun evening in any case!"

"You are very welcome to join us, you two!" Andreas quickly called, causing Johannes and Alexander to laugh to himself and Thomas to shake his head in disbelief at his brother.

"Dear Lord, no! This is really sweet of you, but…" Mila waved her hand. "You know how women need their sleep to maintain their good looks. We cannot lose our charms so early in our lives when there is our old age to consider and take care of."

Sara sighed and Yuuri was very sure he saw her jabbing Mila in the side. "In Mila's language this means that we will gladly join another time when we are not terribly tired and need to be up the next morning. Maybe on a Saturday? Or a luncheon on a Sunday?"

Andreas nodded quickly and this time Yuuri joined into the general chuckling. "Yes, yes, gladly." He cleared his throat. "Well, until then we bid you a good night as well."

Mila and Sara nodded and turned to leave. For the chorus it was the signal that they could leave now and it was high time as well. Yuuri was starving.

"Such wonderful women," Andreas sighed for the umpteenth time and poked at his dinner that had just been brought. So far his beer had been untouched. "Beautiful, talented and sweeter than anyone I've ever met."

The round around their table exchanged glances and eye rolls.

"So, who is it then?" Alexander finally asked, "The Babitch or the Crispino? Who do you like best?"

Andreas looked down on his plate with solemn pensiveness. "Both," he finally answered.

"Both," Johannes repeated.

"Yes. Both."

"You can't fancy two women at once," Thomas said. "At least not seriously and not to the same degree."

"Well, I can and I do," Andreas huffed, putting aside his fork and crossing his arms. "And I do it very well."

"Fancying someone usually doesn't work like that," Yuuri remarked. "At least according to my somewhat limited experience."

"Says the one with a girl," Alexander retorted.

Yuuri shrugged. "Doesn't mean that I had many fancies in my life." One, to be exact, two if he counted a violinist from the Scala orchestra. This, however, had lasted about three days before he had found out that the man was married and cheated on his wife with men and women alike and who showed a preference for dalliances with people from backgrounds that had had Yuuri fear for the health of his poor wife - and his own, had he ever had procured the guts to approach him. And then there was Viktor, but the feelings Yuuri harboured for him had pretty much immediately gone above and beyond a simple fancy. And he still doubted that he would have ever been capable of even slightly fancying two people at once, even if it had been less intense as the feelings Andreas appeared to harbour.

"Well, this only proves that the affections I hold as superior." Now Andreas was waving his finger. "See, if I felt the ordinary love of an ordinary man for one ordinary woman, I would be blind to anything and anyone else but her and declare the image I have of her to be far superior to who she actually is. However, as it is, there are two women whom I adore with equal fervour. My dedication to one does not blind me to the blessings the presence of the other can bestow on the world. My love is pure and transcending everything known to mankind. Also," and with that he finally took a bite, "no part of my love spoils my eternal adoration and dedication to the most democratic of all vegetables in the world. And let's face it, only a true, mature, rational love, such as the one I hold for both these women, is able to maintain this most precarious of balances."

They all exchanged glances and finally Johannes, who sat next to Andreas, pushed his tankard towards his hands. "There! Drink! For the love of God, please, please! Drink! You sorely need a drink to think straight again!"

"Ah, but Johannes, I am thinking straight! Don't you understand?!" However, Andreas obediently took a sip of his beer. "I mean, obviously my feelings are well above anything strictly carnal as well - how could they not, when being caused by and directed at two such ethereal women? My Beatrice and my Laura, that is who they are!"

"Well, he obviously was not blind to reality, just as he had claimed," Yuuri chuckled over his pork cutlets, "although he apparently saw more flaws in both Miss Crispino and Miss Babitch than they actually possess. I mentioned to him that Dante's Beatrice was a bit of a mean one and rather self-obsessed and that Petrarca's Laura had no personality of her own at all and only served as both a blank slate and a base for some puns. Not to mention they were both dead. Poor Andreas spent the rest of the evening with finding new female figures of literature to compare them to."

Phichit had just been taking a sip of a very dry, German red wine and carefully put his glass away, swallowing hurriedly. "Oh dear, really?!"

A pair passed their table and shot them curious looks, probably wondering what they were doing here, being foreign and non-German all over the place.

Yuuri looked back down on his plate to avoid their gazes. "Yes, one should never mess with an Italian about our classics. We might be a bit lax about the Latin ones, but those precious few in Italian we take really seriously."

"I can see that." Phichit chuckled, shaking his head. "Not that we are any different, but I think every culture has classics they take more seriously than others and won't allow anyone to play around with."

"Oh, we play around with them plenty." Yuuri shrugged and took a bite of his potatoes. The inn they had their lunch at had been a good choice on Phichit's side. The vegetables were well-seasoned and not overcooked, the meat tender and the offered wines indeed drinkable. Also, while Yuuri would have never treated himself to a lunch of that price range, the money Phichit would spend on this lunch would be still low enough to not cause him too much guilt.

He carefully spiked up a few slices of carrot with his fork. "There are plenty of parodies of Petrarca's work, especially in regards to Laura's lack of personality. Dante's works are turned into street theatre or even small operas itself and they like to play up the comedy aspect in the Divina Comedia a lot. We just don't like it when people use our classics for comparisons that are incorrect."

Phichit nodded gravely. "I promise, I will not, never ever, misattribute Italian language classics for ill-fitting comparisons." Then he cracked a smile and Yuuri felt himself reciprocating and continuing as Phichit's smile grew into a hearty laugh.

Occasional glances from other patrons of the inn aside, this lunch was surprisingly enjoyable. Or maybe not surprisingly, considering the fact he was having lunch with someone who looked as foreign here as Yuuri himself - it helped indeed forming some sort of kinship Yuuri didn't have with his friends from the chorus or even with Viktor.

That aside, Phichit obviously enjoyed being in a good mood and putting others in the same, smiling, talking a bit about his work and asking questions Yuuri could answer in as much detail as he saw fit, spinning a conversation from there until Yuuri could not remember what they had started out with.

Well, Phichit was a businessman and an international one at that. Supposedly he had to be very good at talking. That he clearly enjoyed talking probably helped as well. Yuuri could see why his father had decided to send him abroad to take care of their international relations. It was easier to make business when your potential partner liked you and Yuuri found it very much impossible to not like Phichit.

"You have been asking when the dress rehearsals start, I recall," he now said after they both had sobered up. "Mr. Feltsman gave us the date. Come July 6th and I can be admired in full priesthood costume."

Phichit cocked his head. "You sound less excited than I would have expected. You seemed to have looked forward to it."

"Oh, I am looking forward to it," Yuuri replied. "Don't be mistaken, I am pretty excited about my first solo. And it's not like I would doubt Mr. Feltsman's advice or go against it." Too much. He actually had not wanted to say that much.

Phichit's face twisted into curious smile. "But the advice seems to be ill-conceived, you think?"

Yuuri's ears grew warm. "I will not presume to criticise Mr. Feltsman. Let's just hope I will see in time that he is right in his orders."

"Aw, Yuuri, you are making me curious! What are his orders? Are they really that bad?"

Yuuri made a face. "I suppose not. He says I am to get myself a corset to wear for both rehearsals and performances. Supposedly it is to help me sing."

"How would that work? I think you need a lot of air to sing, but is a corset not supposed to..." He waved his hands, apparently searching for the right words.

"From what I have gathered from any woman who agreed to discuss her undergarments with me a side effect is that it regulates breathing," Yuuri said. "But they are used to it, I am not. I honestly wonder how it is supposed to work for me." He really did not, no matter how much Viktor insisted that Yuuri probably would benefit from wearing a corset when singing. Not to mention that Viktor most definitely had a somewhat more carnal interest in this cause of his.

He made a face. "Not to mention that these things cost money."

Phichit's reaction came in an instant. "Well, if it is about that I would be glad to help."

"No, no!" Damn. Another thing Yuuri had not wanted to mention, but here he was. "Please, no!"

"If you don't have the means to purchase a corset and you need one, I really would like to help you," Phichit insisted. "Really, it would be no problem. I have sufficient means and I would gladly put them to good use."

Some people turned around to them and Phichit blushed. "Oh." He sent a sheepish smile around. "Sorry." Lowering his voice he continued, "Really, I would be more than happy if you relied on me when you need help."

Yuuri shook his head. "I do not really need any financial help and I am not asking for it, really. I am sorry that I am making such a bad impression on you."

"You are not." Phichit shook his head. "Making a bad impression, I mean. You are an artist. As far as I know, there are not that many of your craft that can live with more than the most basic comforts without some form of assistance by an admirer."

Yuuri's ears grew hot again. "Well, I can live kind of well right now. I have a roof over my head and food accounted for and can keep enough money on the side to occasionally afford new clothes or some small luxuries. Hopefully with bigger roles a bigger income will come to grant me further improvement of my circumstances." He laid down his fork, then picked it up again, twirling it a bit, before again playing it on he table.

"But you are still not happy about the prospect of purchasing one?"

Yuuri shrugged. "Just because I have saved up enough money to afford one doesn't mean I did not have other plans for that money."

They were done eating and Phichit waved for the barmaid to pay.

Yuuri watched him as he handed her some bills and coins, cheerfully telling her to keep the rest.

"Oh my, thank you!" She smiled at them far more brightly than when they had first entered.

"What do you say to a little stroll along the Elbe? The air might be bearable near the water."

Yuuri nodded. "I follow your lead."

Phichit chuckled as they gathered their belongings and left the inn, not without the barmaid smiling even more as Phichit promised to come back soon.

"Ah, the power of money," he sighed, still smiling. "All of a sudden they will see you for the person that you are. I love it."

Yuuri smiled and fell into step next to him.

It was oppressively hot today, the sun glaring down on them with not a single cloud offering even remotely something like relief.

When they reached the riverbanks of the Elbe, the water was glistening like strings of diamonds, blinding them almost as much as the sun itself.

No wind whatsoever, but nonetheless the air was slightly lighter near the river, a little less stagnant, slightly sweeter.

Yuuri took a deep breath. "The Elbe was a good idea. Any longer in the city and I would have lost it with the heat, especially with the wine."

"Yes, that was not my smartest idea, admittedly." Phichit sighed. "In France you have a chance to get young, foaming cidre when it is this hot. And of course England has its own variant of this to offer, but I have yet to find something like it in Germany. The Franks have their Moscht", he hissed the word in the soft, mouth-stuffed-with-wool fashion that was typical for the Frankish dialect. "But for some reason it won't grow on me like cidre or cider did, I have no idea why."

"Amazing," Yuuri sighed. "Again apparently the French did something very well the Germans could only either copy well or do at the same time but not do it well?"

Phichit shrugged. "Who knows. Why you don't like the French?"

"I'm Italian." Yuuri shot him a sheepish smile. "It comes with the territory, I guess."

"Too bad, I quite like the French language. And literature. And..." Phichit stopped and then cleared his throat. "May I ask what you are saving up for?"

That was aprupt.

"You don't have to answer, of course, if you don't want," Phichit quickly added. "It is not important, I am just curious."

Yuuri pondered the question. He had had not really thought about how to spend the money he had saved up. Books maybe. A pocket watch, he could use one of those. New clothes were also always an option.

Or well, a new pair of trousers for Viktor. He looked good in proper trousers. Very good. Definitely better than in these pirate stripes he loved so much for whatever ungodly reason. He also apparently only possessed one pair.

In the end – mainly because "My lover's backside deserves some more flattering wrappings" was not a wise answer to give – Yuuri simply shrugged. "As I said, it isn't like I don't have the money."

Phichit nodded sagely, tapping his chin. "Well, obviously you will have to follow the instructions of your director," he commented.

"Never said I would not," Yuuri answered. "I would, in fact, like to not kill my career before it actually started. All I said was that I don't like it."

Phichit chuckled. "I see. Do you already know where to take your business?"

"Mr. Feltsman told me an address. I will take a look tomorrow after rehearsal. If I find something suitable I might take it right away and be done with it."

"That's the spirit." He smiled again brightly. "We already established that you need to tread carefully and do as you are told to help you career. Here is what I tell you!"

All Yuuri got out was a rather undignified "Ohar?" and he would have liked very much to bite off his tongue for it.

"You go to the store Mr. Feltsman told you and take your pick. So far this instruction is one you would follow anyways. Now here is the good part: I want you to give them my address – you do have my address?"

Yuuri shook his head.

"I'll write it down in a minute. Anyways, you go there, get yourself outfitted as necessary, give them my address and have them send the bill towards me."

"What... no, I can't!" Yuuri shook his head. "You can't do that."

"Sure?" Phichit hummed, "As far as I know this only requires the necessary financial means and contact between all parties involved. I believe I am capable of that. So why should I not?"

"No, really, I cannot ask that of you," Yuuri insisted. "You don't know me well enough for us to be considered friends yet, I can't possibly accept that."

"I would like it if you could consider me your friend," Phichit said. "Please?"

Apparently the only way to get Phichit to stop with that was to be extremely rude, but that was most definitely not the route Yuuri wanted to go.

Damn. He very definitely did not like this. Which was in itself hilarious, supposedly, the fact that someone offered him financial help and he did not want it. It was just that right now all Yuri felt was some tremendous amount of discomfort.

"I will not go along with it unless you allow me to repay you," he finally said. "I don't like being indebted to people, friends or not."

Phichit looked like he wanted to make a face at that, but finally nodded. "Alright. Can I set the repayment, though? Since I can gauge best what to me is the best value for the money spent and all."

Yuuri nodded. "Sounds fair."

"Great." Now Phichit was flashing him a smile again. "I would have asked you anyways, but since we have come to this agreement – I would very much like to draw your portrait once. Or paint."

Yuuri blinked. "Alright. Although I don't think my face to be all that interesting. You would get more dramatic art when working on someone like Plisetsky."

"Maybe, but I draw him mostly to take a record of how his face changes. He is still a boy growing up and changing so fast, it is dizzying. Last year he could still be confused for a girl."

Phichit sat down in the grass and opened his bag, pulling a folio out. "Here."

Yuuri sat down next to him as he was handed a few sheets of paper. They were all sketches, very detailed so, some landscapes and mostly people.

The very first was of a very pretty child, fair hair, large eyes and even when captured only in graphite appearing to possess a disgustingly rosy complexion.

"How did you get Plisetsky to hold still and not scowl for long enough to get this done?"

"I was quick. And maybe he was in a good mood. Although he was always rather polite to me, but this is apparently not the norm?"

Yuuri chuckled. "You have no idea."

"I might draw him this fall. This picture was done in October and I am scheduled to be here again then." Phichit took the picture and put it back in his folio. "I would really like your portrait too. I never had a chance to draw a Japanese and your face is rather expressive. If you ask me that is always more fun to both look at and to capture than the general European idea of prettiness. Have you seen current pictures of what they consider pretty here? It all looks the same. Must be boring. And neither of these show any emotion too."

Yuuri leafed through some more sketches. Another one of Plisetsky, one he already knew, but this version was more detailed, with obvious work put into it. The boy looked like he wanted to yell at the person looking at him. Yuuri chuckled at the sight of it.

Other pictures showed members of the higher society of Dresden, regular patrons of the theatre. Another featured Mila Babitch laughing at a joke Contralo Anna Herzog was telling her. Yuuri had never talked to that woman, but she seemed nice enough.

Another featured a theatre that was clearly not Dresden, but Yuuri still recognised it. "Oh, you were in Naples?"

"Yes, a few years ago. I met Miss Crispino there the first time. What a nice surprise to find out she has transferred here." Smiling, Phichit leafed through his drawings and finally procured one that featured a younger Sara Crispino sitting next to a boy that looked strikingly like her. They were holding hands and smiling.

"I did this in Naples too. Two versions of this," Phichit explained. "One for her, one for Signore Crispino. You can tell they are twins?"

"Indeed." Yuuri smiled. "I have never seen him here, though."

"Yes, apparently they had a bit of a fall-out. Miss Crispino said he is in New York now and handed this one back to me. Too bad, they were thick as thieves back then."

Carefully Yuuri sorted the sheets again. "Naples, France, England, German countries, you travelled a lot."

"Mostly on behalf of the family business. My father managed to expand our business into an international trading company, but when I started out travelling in his place I had less chance to see something of the country than I would have liked. It got better with the years, though."

That sounded tough, but also intriguing. Yuuri had not travelled much outside of moving from Rome to Naples to Sicily, back to Naples and finally Milan with Celestino. And of course his venture here, but that was hardly comparable to the scope Phichit must have experienced. "When did you enter your family's business?" he finally asked.

"Pretty young, I suppose, but I doubt that is anything unusual with family businesses. I started assisting my parents with the books when I was twelve. Before that they had me learn to evaluate our goods on their quality and before that my very first duty was to do watch walks around our store houses. We had trouble with rats back then and my parents were not sure whether the cats they had gotten were doing the job. Ironically, I was the one who had suggested to get some feline help."

A soft breeze arose, carrying the scent of water to them.

Yuuri took a deep breath. "Ah, finally."

"Summer here really puts pressure on you," Phichit agreed.

"Thank goodness for stone buildings being somewhat cool. So the cats didn't do their job?"

"Oh, they did, very well even." Phichit waved his hand. "But after two weeks we still had a few rats and my parents figured I should pick up the slack of the cats. They figured it helped my judgement and decision making and strengthen my sense of responsibility."

Yuuri chuckled. "Did it work?"

"I loved the cats even more. And yes, all in all it worked. At the moment, however, I more than anything I felt incredibly important and mighty as I wandered through the storehouses and around them in the middle of the night. And most definitely not afraid, oh no, I wasn't, no matter the talk of break-ins that were making their rounds at that time and don't you ever suggest I was afraid of ghosts or spirits." He chuckled. "Because I would have been incensed if anyone had suggested otherwise back then. And no matter how scared I was, I still did my duty and felt very, very brave for that."

Now he procured two apples from his bag and handed one of them to Yuuri.

Yuuri took it. "Thanks."

"Not for that. Anyways, there I was, traipsing around the storehouse, the air was heavy with the scents of anise and cinnamon bark and cloves and I was the bravest little warrior in all of Siam until!" For emphasis Phichit took a bite of his apple and chewed it down. "Until there was a noise!" He waved his arm dramatically and Yuuri humoured him by gasping over dramatically.

"You can imagine how my blood rushed, my heart beat. I stood perfectly still, listening, listening, listening..." He let his voice trail off, undoubtedly for dramatic effect. "And then, there it was again! And it came closer! You can imagine how my heart was beating!"

"In vivid detail," Yuuri confirmed, chuckling.

"Then it got away and I followed it, all the way to one of the store rooms - there I heard it again and this time from inside the door. So I slowly, slowly opened the door, sneaked in and held up my lamp in hopes of getting a glimpse of the culprit and then!" His hand shot up, causing Yuuri to flinch backwards. "It attacked me, tackling me right in the face that I fell backwards, right into a sack of cinnamon. Weeks afterwards I still smelled like it. Whenever I am here in winter this memory comes right back to me, considering how much the Germans love to spice their winter sweets."

"I fear I have not been here long enough yet to e a judge of that. But I am looking forward to try it."

"Wait until you have tried their cinnamon stars. Delicious. And I don't know whether you have something like mulled wine in Italy, but the German version if it is a delight." Phichit grinned. "They have a nice Christmas market here in winter. I hope I can make it here in time for it." Phichit stretched. "Anyways, I grabbed the beast and there as a vicious hiss and when I finally could shed some light on on it – it was one of the cats. Poor thing was scared for life."

"Oh no!" Yuuri laughed. "Poor thing indeed, but probably it only had itself to blame. With cats it's always the same. There are always some in the Scala and they always end up making a mess."

"Please, tell!" Phichit handed him another apple. "There are not nearly enough funny cat stories going around."

Yuuri chuckled and of course, gladly provided him with them. Starting with a black cat getting into the stage make-up.

Yes. Talking to Phichit was incredibly easy and incredibly enjoyable.