(Those who know French are encouraged to correct me on anything that doesn't sound right lol)
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO
The flight from Calgary to Toronto was benign and uneventful, traveling in first class for the few hours to cross the continent. Viktor had spent the entire time trying to keep his mouth shut about their next flight.
"...I wish I could tell you about everything that's going to happen, but I don't want to spoil it!" He explained excitedly as their plane was taxiing towards the gate to let passengers off, "I wonder if they'll remember me...? It's been a few years, but...maybe."
"If they don't remember you, I'll be shocked." Yuri said quietly; his voice was getting better, and it no longer hurt to speak, but it was still a bit raspy. Tea with honey, and lozenges, were finally doing their jobs.
They pulled their carry-on bags from the overhead compartment and started to make their way up the tunnel that lead into the terminal, and the closer they got, the more it seemed like Viktor was starting to skip rather than walk. His eyes were scanning ahead for something, but Yuri wasn't sure what.
"Monsieur Viktor Nikiforov?" A woman's voice came, thick with a French accent.
"Oui!" He answered excitedly, lifting his free hand up like it were roll-call, and then lowering it again to take the woman's hand in greeting. She seemed excited to see him.
Maybe they do remember him after all? Or maybe they just know of him, like that ticket lady in Helsinki... Yuri thought to himself as he watched and listened closely. Hopefully this time there won't be any awkward requests for hugs.
"Je m'appelle Angela. Puis-je prendre vos bagages?" The attendant asked; she was dressed classically in a black dress-suit with a red ribbon tied in a bow around her waist, with a black choker around her neck, accented by a big black poof that reminded Yuri of the one he and Viktor wore on their wedding hakama ensemble. The Russian handed over his carry-bag and motioned for Yuri to do the same, then gave over their tickets and passports before taking his husband's hand again, "Qui est votre compagnon de voyage?" She asked, looking at Yuri with a smile.
"Cest mon mari, Yuri Nikiforov." Viktor answered proudly, "Nous nous sommes mariés en Mars à Barcelone."
"Est-ce qu'il parle français?"
"Non." The Russian shook his head, "Il parle couramment l'anglais."
The woman nodded, but then reached over with one hand and spoke English with her thick accent instead, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Nikiforov. La Premiére welcomes you, and we hope you enjoy your travels with us."
Yuri blinked at her, but then accepted the hand-shake with a slight bow of his head, "...Merci."
She smiled at the sound of it, atrocious as his accent was, sounding more like 'meru-see' than anything, and then held her hand out towards the open terminal, "Par ici, s'il vou plaît."
Yuri had no idea what was being said, but he followed along anyway as Viktor held his hand and guided the way. The woman lead them down to a private elevator, taking them down to where a black BMW was waiting, and then drove them across the airport to a semi-private lounge to wait for their next flight.
The main area had a lot of seats for all travelers on Air France; comfortable-looking single-person sofas, tables, a few nooks for small groups, but further to the side was a more secluded space with red walls accenting the white with wood finish. The attendant encouraged them to get comfortable, and then left with their documents.
Yuri looked from the red walls to the big red square pieces of 'art' that hung in sections on other walls, then out through the windows that showed a row of gates and a handful of planes waiting to be loaded or unloaded. He stretched a little and then flopped down into one of the stiff-looking sofas, only to find himself sinking into it, and let out a breath.
"Pretty good so far, neh?" Viktor asked, looking around, "I was by myself the last time I came through here. It was that time I was in Detroit for Skate America." He winked down at his partner, and the dawn of realization rose on him.
"...No way!"
"Mh." The older figure nodded, "I went from Detroit to here with Yakov and Mila, but then broke off to come to this lounge while they went to theirs, and then flew from here to France on my own. Stayed in Paris for a few days and then went on back home for Rostelecom after that. I must've spent every cent of my Skate Canada winnings before I ever set foot back in Russia!" He laughed to himself, "Good times."
"That figures." Yuri muttered, "I was sick back then, too. We've both come full circle, in a way."
Viktor just laughed at that, "You're getting better! By the time we get to Bordeaux, you'll be good as new. Besides, this time..." He loomed over where Yuri sat in the sofa, his hands on the high arm-rests, "...You won't have to resort to cuddling a framed picture of me, since you have me in the flesh~!"
Yuri sighed, remembering the video of it from their wedding party, "Phichit-kun...you traitor..."
The Russian laughed again and then pushed himself back upright, seeing a different attendant coming up to them. He turned his head back down to look at him again though, "I think the only shame is that this lounge doesn't have any massage services. I could really go for one right now..." He reached up to rub the side of his neck a little, and then turned back as the new attendant came right up to them.
It was a man this time, which Yuri though was particularly strange, but said nothing as he watched the interaction between him and Viktor. More words were spoken in French, and quickly thereafter, a fancy tray of fruit slices with a yoghurt dip was set on the table in front of him, and the pop of a champagne bottle echoed around the atrium. Viktor took his glass gladly, and looked over as the server forced Yuri to interact briefly to give him a glass as well, which he took nervously.
"Don't be so anxious!" The Russian reassured, "One glass won't put you under the table."
"How many bottles are they going to bring us...?"
Viktor raised his head as he sipped at the glass, thinking, tallying up the glasses of his memory, "...Three? Maybe two. This one just now, and one more for sure when we get on the plane...I think the third bottle I got before was one I asked for, but I forget!"
"Do all the attendants who meet us introduce themselves?"
"Yup!"
"Hm."
"What is it?"
Yuri finally let himself sip at the champagne he'd been given, then reclined back again, "I'm used to being greeted in department stores back home, but not being given formal introductions by everyone I stumble by. It feels weird...like I should be writing their names down so I don't forget later if I run into them again."
"You spent too much time in America." Viktor quipped, stepping around the low white table to take a seat next to his partner, "And too much time in your own head, watching other peoples' experiences and never making them your own."
"What do you mean?"
"I've gone shopping with you enough in Hasetsu to know you only barely acknowledge the staff in any department stores we've gone to. Things are different in Europe. Everything is small and tight-knit, like a community, since the cities have been there since long before cars or trains ever existed, back when everyone walked to where they had to go. But the tradition of knowing and recognizing your shop-keeps and customers never went away. That follows here, too. Once they've done their little song and dance though, they back off unless you request their attention."
"Do you recognize any of the people we've seen so far?"
"The first one, Angela." He nodded, "If she wasn't part of the La Premiére team, I bet she would've gone nuts." He reached down for the plate and skewered a piece of sliced kiwi, dipping it in the sweet white paste and savoring it quickly, "Vkusno~!"
Just as he was about to reach for a second piece though, he found Yuri stepping in front of him, and then sitting on the end of his knees. He tilted his head a little as he watched the younger figure set his glass down on the table behind him, and then pull out his phone, typing something, and then setting his right palm directly in the middle of his chest, fingers fanned out.
"...Yuri?"
"Paris is the City of Love, right?" He answered, trying to pull back on his phone as far as he could while still trying to see what was on the screen, centering his husband on it and trying to get it to focus properly.
"Ah, I see." Viktor mused, moving his own ringed hand down to lightly overlap his husband's, making it so their wedding bands touched as the phone finally took a picture.
"It's been a while since I uploaded anything. I'm sure people are going to give me grief when I post this."
"Why would they?"
"Cuz it's a picture of you, rather than me."
"Then let me take some pictures!" The Russian suggested, getting interested, "You can post a whole bunch then!"
The younger figure got a little nervous, "...I dunno, it feels weird still to post selfies. Seems a bit self-absorbed."
"They aren't selfies if someone else is taking the pictures." Viktor pointed out, "Besides, the best photos are the ones you aren't consciously posing for. I'll take them when you aren't paying attention!"
Yuri almost felt bad saying no at that point, since Viktor had gotten all excited about the idea, so he relented and handed over his phone to let him do as he wanted. The first picture came much quicker than Yuri had ever expected, hearing the click only just after he'd turned around to retake his champagne off the table. Viktor was grinning to himself and admiring the image, and turned the phone around to show it off.
"See? You look really good!"
He eyeballed it a little, "Mh..."
"What?" The Russian turned it back around, wondering if he missed something, "Is something wrong with it?"
"...Maybe it would be better if you posted this stuff on your account first."
He got a blank look.
"All those people that surrounded you at the Calgary Tower acted all weird when they realized I was there. Like I was a total buzz-kill. If I had done my exit interview after the medaling ceremony, people would know I was sick and had to leave." He explained.
"You could always do your own interview." Viktor suggested, "You still sound sick enough."
"...Do my own interview?" Yuri wondered, clearing his throat.
"Mh. Post a video explaining what happened. Anyone that follows you will see it. You could clear the whole thing up before we even get to France."
The younger skater wondered about it, taking another sip from his champagne glass before deciding, "...What should I say?"
"Whatever you want. It's your video. If you don't like it, we'll do it again until you do."
He looked a little nervous, but then nodded, "All right..."
Viktor held the phone side-ways and set it to start shooting video, "Say when ready."
Yuri looked straight at him, thinking about what he should say, but then looked up at the wall behind Viktor instead. A moment or two passed, making the Russian wonder if he was ever going to be ready at all, but then finally got the nod to go ahead and start recording, so Viktor hit the button and waggled a finger to say he was rolling.
The younger skater cleared his throat again, "...Hey everyone..." He started nervously, keeping his eyes low for the moment, but then raising them, "...I know a lot of people have been wondering what's wrong with me since the start of Skate Canada. I've caught a lot of flak for being mad at my Short Program score, and then for bailing on the Exhibition and Banquet even after I won gold anyway." He paused a moment, feeling his throat getting a little scratchy, "I wanted to clear the air once and for all. ...You can probably tell by how I sound that I'm not exactly in top form right now. I've been sick since the day before the Free Skate." He stopped to clear his throat again, "...That's part of why Coach Viktor knocked my program down to 3 quads from the original 5. By the end of it, I could barely breathe, and I couldn't talk at all without going into coughing fits. I was lucky to finish my Free Skate without stopping because of my throat. We stayed for the medaling ceremony since we were already there, and then Viktor made me go to bed. Uhm..." He trailed off a little, not sure what else to say on the fly.
"How do you feel about missing the Skate Canada post-competition stuff?" Viktor asked, giving him something to chew on.
"...Awful! I really wanted to go!" Yuri lamented genuinely, "The whole thing turned into a giant cluster, and it all looked really bad because I avoided interviews like the plague right from the start. I'm hoping my supporters will forgive me." He held his hands up, palms together, in front of his forehead, "Shitsureishimashita."
"What are your plans for later?"
"...Oh...uhm... " He brought his hands down again, scratching the side of his jaw with one finger nervously, "Well, I'll be with y-...er, Viktor...for Trophée de France, and then I'll compete again at Cup of China after that. I plan on being where I'm expected to be at all the remaining events of the Grand Prix Series. If I'm still sick, then I'll make sure I at least show my face."
"And how do you feel about telling everyone that you did the vocals for my Short Program?" Viktor asked teasingly, turning the phone around to beam at the camera before turning it back around again to show Yuri's embarrassed face.
The younger skater anxiously moved his hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and settled it there to calm his nerves as his cheeks got a little pink, "...It sounds better than I do right now, at least..."
"That's not what I asked!" The Russian nudged his leg to put Yuri off balance for a moment.
"...V-Viktor...!" Yuri protested, "...I don't know what to say! It was a lot harder than I thought it would be! I've never done a recording before...I just hope it sounds good."
Viktor turned the camera back around again and winked at it, "Don't let his modesty fool you, or his sore throat. Yuri has a great singing voice! I can't wait to skate to it for everyone! That's it for now though!"
The embarrassed younger figure slumped down under Viktor's arm and wedged himself into the small space between his husband and the arm-rest, trying to get into frame just enough so they could wave bye at the camera at the same time. The Russian moved his arm down and settled his hand on the back of Yuri's shoulder, tilting the camera a little so they'd both be seen.
"See you in Bordeaux!" He said for them both.
When it was finally over, and Viktor lowered his phone-holding hand down to set the device on his stomach, he leaned forward to nose the top of Yuri's head, "See? That was pretty good."
"...Mh."
Viktor twisted a little so Yuri had a little more room, and watched as he started twiddling away on his phone to make the post to Instagram.
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y-nikiforov
[video]
31,265 Likes
y-nikiforov A quick message from Viktor and I as we leave North America! Mostly an apology, though... #SkateCanada #v-nikiforov #viktuuri
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v-nikiforov One down, three to go!
phichit_chu You're doing fine, Yuri! See you in Japan! Congrats on gold! *freaking out*
yuri-plisetsky I'm going to kill you two when I see you next, I swear to god
Chris looked through a few more comments from people who followed Yuri's account; other fans, but his attention had already been side-lined by Viktor's last statement.
"...You had him sing your Short Program for you, huh? ...This, I can't wait to hear."