CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
The rest of the wait for the plane was relatively quiet. Both Yuris were twiddling around on their phones, one ear-bud per Yuri and Viktor sharing one playlist while Yurio had both of his in, while both coaches tried to get a little sleep before boarding. The crowd of travelers grew exponentially in the remaining 30 minutes before the clerks had even arrived to start taking peoples' tickets. A large group was even starting to loiter around the gate, as though being there somehow meant they'd get onto the plane sooner.
Yuri was oogling a series of Gala photo albums that had been tagged to him and Viktor, marveling at all the HD shots that had been taken of the opening and closing group skates, as well as his own and Viktor's Exhibitions. It was still a weird feeling to see photos himself wearing the old Sochi costume again, and to increase the difficulty of that program to be on par with his current level of skill.
Back then I had 2 quads and they were both the easiest of the 6, and I could only consistently land one of them in competition, too...now I can do 5 out of the 6... The 6th took Viktor himself 2 weeks to perfect...it'd probably take me years...
He looked up as he heard what sounded like the boarding call for first class, and he nudged Viktor awake, "Hey, we're up."
The Russian looked a bit disheveled as his eyes opened, and he looked around like he wasn't sure where he was. Reality dawned on him soon after, and he yawned, stretched, and then stood up, losing the ear-bud that had been holding on while he rubbed his eyes, "...I hate that feeling...you doze off just enough, and then when you wake up, it's like...Who am I? What is this place? What day is it?"
"I've done that watching videos online before..." Yuri agreed, stretching as well as he stood up, "I'll just be staring at the screen, and my eyes close for what feels like a second, but then it's dawn and I'm just sitting there wondering...the heck is this? The heck is that?"
"Right!?"
Yurio and Yakov stood up soon after that, each of them rubbing out the stiffness of having been sitting for so long.
"It's weird to say 'laters' when we're on the same flight, but..." Yurio started, "I guess we'll see you back in St. Petersburg when we land."
Viktor was running his hand through his bangs to sort them out again as Yuri nodded, "Yeah, we'll see you back on the ground." He held one arm out.
Yurio was unsure, "...But...we're on the same plane..."
"Different parts of the plane. We won't see each other again for 2 hours."
"...You're gonna make me hug you for a 2 hour-"
"Every time." Yuri repeated, waggling the arm in the air a little for emphasis, "C'mon. Our gate's calling."
The blond grit his teeth, but acknowledged his agreement and stepped forward, putting one arm around the older skater as Yuri did the same in return. That hug was significantly briefer than the one from earlier, but Yuri wasn't bothered...it was training, and for someone as typically bristly and confrontational as the Russian Punk, it would take time before the hugs would be more friendly. With that done though, they said their farewells for the time being and headed over to the gate.
Viktor was rummaging in his coat's inside pocket to get their tickets as Yuri guided him through the crowd. As they approached the counter, Yuri looked down the long hollow corridor that lead to the plane outside, and then...heard a startled scream. Thinking someone had spilled coffee on themselves, he lifted his head to look around, only to see Viktor gawking at a woman behind the counter with a stunned look on his face, and having pulled the tickets close to his chest again like he wasn't sure he should show them.
"...Are you...okay?" Viktor asked, unsure what else to say.
The younger skater looked between them, realizing nothing was really wrong, "What happened?"
"Dunno. I was putting up our tickets to get scanned and she screamed." Viktor answered.
The woman had already started frantically telling her co-workers something in the Finnish language that neither of them understood, but when she started speaking names, it all made sense.
"Etkö tiedä kuka hän on!? Se Viktor Nikiforov! Hän on kuuluisa!"
"Voi, hän puhuu luistelu uudelleen." One of the other ladies said, giving an exaspirated sigh.
"We are sorry. She is big skate fan. She ask for shift for seeing skates." A third woman apologized, the only one of the group that spoke any English, broken as it was, so she to do the announcements, "Ehhm...Russia skates." She went on to clarify.
The first woman regained her composure, but was still gushing, "Voinko halata sinua!?"
People around were starting to get impatient, and Yuri took notice, "Viktor...we have to go...we're holding up the line."
"...What did she ask?" He wondered, their tickets taken by one of the other attendants.
"Oh, she want...ehhhm...how to say..." The English-speaker was wracking her brain for the word, "Touch? No..."
"Oh!" Viktor understood, "Hug?"
"Kyllä se siitä!" She answered, as though the word had been on the tip of her tongue and she just couldn't get it out there.
Ever the provider of fan-service, the Russian held his free arm out and the woman came running around the counter and launched at him, knocking him back a few steps as Yuri watched quietly, being tugged as Viktor caught himself. He'd seen dozens of fans give Viktor hugs in the past so it didn't entirely bother him, but there was always a spot in his gut that turned over when it happened.
It seemed to go on for a while, and Viktor was trying to do his best to peel the woman off without seeming rude, but it didn't seem to be working. Yuri noticed.
"Ahem."
The crowd was getting more annoyed. One man had started rolling his newspaper in irritation.
"AHEM."
The woman looked over, only one eye visible from where her face was burried against Viktor's chest, partially hidden by his scarf and the lapels of his coat. She caught a glimpse of Yuri there looking down at her with a 'move along now' look on his face. She went completely red and let the Russian go immediately, moving back to hide behind the desk, muttering something in Finnish as she went. She avoided eye contact with other passengers after that, and Yuri swiped their scanned tickets and rushed Viktor down the suspended corridor that lead to the plane.
Once on board, they found their seats on the far isle and flopped into them exhaustedly. Yuri still held to Viktor's hand even as they sat. The Russian noticed the slight clench and moved to settle his other hand on top of it to ease his fingers off a little, and even leaned over to nose his husband's ear a little, "You're adorable when you're territorial."
"That's...not it..." Yuri blushed a little, "It went on for too long. People were complaining." He kept staring straight ahead though.
"Sorry, if I knew Finnish..." Viktor pulled back again, looking a little nervous now, "It happens every so often, when a fan gets so overwhelmed that they don't let go. You did that once too, you know."
The younger man's face went more red than pink after that, "...Sorry."
"What? Why? It was the night I fell for you!" Viktor pulled his hand free so he could put both his arms around his partner, nuzzling his cheek affectionately, "The awkward, drunken hug that lead to everything else!"
"...She didn't even recognize me." He finally said, a bit stiffly, "She looked right through me like I wasn't even there. I was holding your hand the entire time, and she looked at me like she had no idea who I was."
"Not all skating fans care about all skaters. That's just a sad fact. Don't let it bother you...she'll probably maul Yurio too once he gets to the gate. That one lady said she was a fan of Russia's skaters, so..."
Yuri still looked a bit depressed by it, "With all the footage of you that has me in it, you'd think more people would at least be like, 'oh, you're that awkward Japanese guy that Viktor keeps as a pet' or something."
"You're doing it again." Viktor said, quieter than before, as he reached up on hand to fuss over his husband's hair a little, "You're letting what other people think get under your skin."
"...Only this one." He grumbled, "Seemed like everyone we met in Helsinki recognized both of us no matter what, even when they only wanted photos with you. I don't care that I'm not as popular, but..."
"Yuri."
"...it's just weird nowadays that people still seem to not know who I am when...
"Yuri."
"...I'm literally married to you and we do a lot of skating stuff together now. I mean, it's not like you took almost an entire year off to be my coach or anything..."
"YURI!"
He turned his head finally, "...What?"
"I want you to do something."
"...Uhh...okay? What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to do something that no other fan will ever get to do so long as I live."
Yuri could only blink at him in confusion, and smile nervously, "...Right here...!?"
"Yuri!" Viktor laughed and settled in his chair, "...You went straight to 11 with that one. I was going for something a bit simpler than that."
"Oh!" The younger skater was bright red after that, "...Sorry, it was on my mind since you complained about the lack of it earlier."
"Keep it on your mind!" The Russian insisted, "So I know what you're thinking about for the next couple hours." He couldn't help but settle his hand high on Yuri's thigh after that, "I'll think about it, too."
"You're making me want to reconsider my proud Japanese modesty." Yuri grumbled, lowering his voice so no one around could hear, "But I'm really not ready to get my Mile High Club card just yet."
Viktor's eyes went wide and he pulled his hand back up to cover his mouth, "...Wow! Yuri...! That you even know what that is...wow~! We have to get home immediately."
.
.
.
It was still dark when the plane landed in St. Petersburg; Viktor had gone out of his way to avoid picking a flight with a layover after all the other flights they'd done in the previous 2 weeks. It was especially nice since the airports had been aware of the World Championships and arranged for bigger planes to carry the more-than-normal numbers of travelers to major cities, so the nearly-6-foot Russian had the option of a seat that gave leg-room.
When they finally got back into the airport, they stood together in front of the huge windows that looked out onto the tarmac and threw their arms out to the side happily, "We're finally back!"
Even Makkachin seemed to be glad.
It wasn't long before the two absent Russians finally came into the terminal as well, and they walked out of the airport together to where the long-term parking lot was located. After that, they parted ways again, with Yuri explaining that Mikhail would be coming to St. Petersburg in the next few days so they'd bring him by Yurio's place to make the final arrangements.
After that, Viktor hurried along to find his car, walking much faster than normal and forcing Yuri to half-run just to keep up. The poodle bounced along contentedly, happy to finally get to stretch his legs after being in the crate.
When they found Viktor's car, Yuri was heaving to catch his breath, "V-Viktor….it's not...so easy...to run after you when...you have...so….much…..luggage…..!" He dropped several of the man's extra bags together next to the rear passenger door, leaning over his knees to get his wind back. He heard the car door open on the driver's side, and Makkachin barked excitedly to get inside. The luggage was stowed in the trunk soon thereafter, and by then, Yuri had finally caught his breath and stood upright. He was about to reach for the front passenger door handle to get in when he heard Viktor's footstep coming around the side of the vehicle towards him, and he looked over to find him approaching quickly.
A second later, the Russian had Yuri pressed against the car, looking longingly into his eyes for a silent moment before kissing him deeply, and for a good long while. It caught Yuri off guard briefly, but he soon settled into it, enjoying his husband's warmth against the bracing St. Petersburg pre-dawn cold. When Viktor eventually pulled away again, he still held close.
"Let's go home."