CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE

It wasn't exactly unusual for Yuri to sleep on a flight...but actually feeling rested when he woke up was something more elusive. When the polite knock came a few hours later, one eye peeked open a little and then closed again, only for both to finally open as the knock came a second time. A woman's voice was saying something, but he was only half-conscious and didn't quite understand it. He wasn't even sure what language it was in at the time. He was quite tangled with his husband, his head wedged just under the man's chin, one arm draped over Viktor's side as the other was curled up between them...but he was awake.

"...Merci." He said blearily, pulling the hand over the Russian's waist to rub his eyes. The world was a little blurry since he'd taken out his contact lenses, but it wasn't terrible. His vision was never so awful that he'd lose depth perception when he took his glasses off to skate before anyway. He pushed himself up on his elbow a little until he was nose-to-nose with his husband, "...Viktor."

"Mnn..."

"Staff is knocking. We must be close."

"Mhm..."

Yuri smiled and brushed back Viktor's bangs a few times, then kissed his forehead, "I'm going to clean up and get dressed. Think about what you want to eat, okay?"

"...Mh."

The younger skater sat up fully at that point, rummaging around for the pants he'd thrown off the night before and pulling them on before grabbing his contact lens case, and got ready to unlatch the curtain. Just as he was about to though, Viktor finally pushed to an elbow and sat up a little, blindly fumbling for Yuri's hand. When he found it, he twisted to face his partner, trailing his fingers up the man's arm until it found its place under his chin, and brought him back into his sights.

"You remember last night, right?" He asked quietly, his eyes barely open.

"Of course."

The Russian smiled, kissed him lightly and then flopped back down to the pillow where it was still warm, "Just checking." He peeked an eye open to glance back at the man as he was about to unhook the curtain, "Your voice is back to normal again, too."

The night's escapades had made Yuri entirely forget how raspy his voice had still been the day before, and he reached one hand up to his throat, "...Ah, yeah, so it is. Good timing." He pushed the heavy fabric wall aside and hopped out, "I'll be right back."

As Yuri vanished from sight, and turned to close the gap again so Viktor could get half-dressed again himself, Viktor turned flat on his back and stretched as far as the length of the cabin would allow. He looked up at the ceiling, and the darkened little lights that would eventually be on, then over to the side at the bucket of melted ice and a half-empty bottle of expensive champagne sitting within it.

'...But I'm an honest drunk, aren't I? If I hadn't been completely blitzed in Sochi, we wouldn't even be here now, right?'

Viktor huffed a laugh to himself and finally sat up, ruffling his hair a little. He shrugged though and moved his arm so he could grab his phone and check the time, seeing that it was the ungodly hour of...11:30am.

"...Hah?"

He looked at it again, blinking in confusion, thinking it should be closer to 5:30am...but then remembered that his phone automatically changed the time based on the time-zone it was in, and Paris was 6 hours ahead of Washington DC. They were probably floating somewhere over Britain at that point though, so they'd gain another hour on the day before landing.

The skater slouched where he sat and looked around again, finding his pants like Yuri had and decided to go ahead and get ready. He grabbed the complimentary socks and slippers while he was at it, and by the time he'd unlatched the curtain and stood up in the aisle to stretch again, he finally felt normal and awake.

A quick glance to the side, and he saw two attendants there, gawking at him awkwardly. Their faces were red as they looked at him, and though he initially believed it was because he was still half naked...and who wouldn't be flushed to see him that way?...he remembered how loud he'd been a few hours earlier. A knowing smile crept across his face, and he said 'good morning' in a sickly-sweet tone. The ladies sputtered their greetings as well and watched as his pale self meandered over to where his other carry-bag had been stowed so he could get fresh clothing.

By the time he was presentable again, the bed had been deconstructed and the fold-out table prepared with a fine white cloth, and fancy plates and silverware.

Yuri was sitting in the backward-facing chair already, looking down at the menu with one hand over his mouth in thought. He looked up as he heard shuffling in the aisle behind him, and smiled to see his husband coming up towards him.

The day's new raiment for the Russian included charcoal grey slacks and an off-white light grey turtle-neck. Yuri noticed the man had even styled his hair like he was going to put on a show. It made his cheeks flush a little to see Viktor all 'fluffed up.' Yuri himself wasn't exactly 'dressed down' though. Viktor had made sure he had the proper attire for meandering around Paris, and so the younger man had on a form-fitting black button-down with white buttons and folded-back exaggerated cuffs, and black slacks.

Viktor came right up to him, running his fingers through raven-black hair to push it out of his eyes, leaned down, and kissed him. He held there for a good few seconds before pulling back again, and lightly kissed his forehead before finally taking the seat across from him.

"...Did you see the look on their faces?" Yuri asked quietly, sticking his head slightly out of the mini-cabin to check if anyone was nearby.

"Bien sûr." The Russian smiled as he set his elbows to the edge of the table, holding his head up in his palms, "I've only seen two of them so far, but I doubt the rest can avoid us for long. You?"

"I think I saw all of them." He answered, his cheeks still a little pink, but looking rather proud of himself despite it, "The guy and three stewardesses?"

"I only saw two of the ladies." Viktor answered, "Probably the bravest of the group after getting an eye-full of you." He leaned forward then and reached over the table, fingering the two highest buttons on his partner's shirt and undoing them, "...You should show off a little more."

"...If you want me to."

"Oh don't tell me that, I'll have you running around Paris naked if I could."

Yuri just laughed nervously.

Viktor just continued looking at him, leaning back in his own chair as they waited for the breakfast ballad to begin. He had his right arm propped up on the arm-rest, leaning his head against the tips of a few fingers, slate blue eyes looking straight at the man across from him. A few thoughts were percolating like the coffee faintly noted in the air.

The younger man peered back at him curiously, wondering what was going through his head. He turned his face a little to look at him sideways, "...Viktor?"

Eyes were intently on him, and the Russian almost seemed not to even blink. His ring finger came down to trace the edge of his lip though, "...Hm."

Yuri quirked a brow at him, wordless this time.

"I'm going to keep you restricted to three quads for Cup of China." Viktor finally said, making the younger figure twitch a little, "Then you can go back to five for the Final."

"...Why? I thought...you were going to let me gradually go back up."

"You may feel like you'll be back to 100% by the time we get to Shanghai, but I need you to take it easy for a little while longer. We won't be flying La Premiére when we leave France, and I know you still have trouble sleeping even in first class. So for the sake of keeping you healthy, I don't want you overdoing it, and compromising yourself. Three quads. That's an order from your coach." He was still smiling despite the seriousness of the directive, but Yuri reluctantly saw the sense in it.

"...Hai, Viktor-kōchi."

"I'll only be doing three quads, too, so don't feel like I'm trying to sabotage your chances." The Russian went on, "Chris and Yurio are doing the same."

"I wouldn't think you're trying to sabotage me." Yuri said simply, shaking his head a little, "I know you want to see me win, even if you're competing, too. You pushed me to win gold at Worlds, even if it meant you had to take Silver because of it. It would never cross my mind that you'd use your position as a coach to undermine me for the sake of yourself as a competitor."

"Mh." Viktor nodded, "You're right. Pushing you means I have to push myself, too...and I like to see the others sweat. I really want to see us both at the Final, where everyone's eyes are on us alone. Nikiforov vs Nikiforov. Nothing else in the wide world will matter so much as seeing which of us will take Gold. It'll be different this time, compared to Worlds."

"...You think so?"

"Yes." The Russian nodded again, paying no mind to the stewardess who'd finally come by the table to start setting breakfast drinks down; coffee, juice, sparkling water. Viktor kept his eyes firmly on his rival, "I'm in it from the start this time, not just jumping back in at the last second. I've been training all summer for this season. It will likely be my last, so I have to go out with a bang, right?"

"...You told me I'm forbidden from worrying about things while we're on vacation, and then you bring that up..." Yuri sighed, lowering his eyes a little.

'He needs you to accept him as he is, and be there with him as he slowly steps away from competition.' Phichit's words came back to the young skater's mind unbidden, '...Be there beside him as he slows down...'

"You're right, I don't want you to worry." Viktor's voice brought him back, "This season is going to be intense, but I don't intend to just vanish when it's over. It won't even stop with my being your coach when I'm done as a competitor." He reached over for the sugar cubes as the coffee press in front of him was plunged down and poured into the small ceramic cup just next to it, "...But if it makes you feel better, it has crossed my mind to do the Grand Prix one more time. Challenge myself...see how far I can go on style points. It wouldn't even be a disappointment to my fans and supporters if I go into it saying I wouldn't be pushing myself. It's just be for fun, almost." He poured just enough cream to cool the drink so it wouldn't burn, but not enough to change the color all that much, "That would be okay, right? Yuuri-kōchi."

Hazel eyes shot up at him, "...Oh no, don't go there again...I'm wearing the badge to get back stage, but I'm not your coach!"

"After last night? I almost think you could be." Viktor huffed a single knowing laugh at the younger skater, "You've suddenly taught me so many things."

Yuri's face was red, "...Is it really teaching you anything when I learned it from you in the first place?"

Viktor closed his eyes briefly as he took in the scent of the coffee, sipping it lightly and then setting it back to its coaster as Yuri did the same with some of the orange juice. He opened those slate blue eyes again, "Back in Barcelona, right after we got there...I was up in the roof-top pool while you slept off your jet-lag. Before Chris showed up, I was thinking about how I had neglected myself for more than 20 years."

The younger man listened intently, knowing the conversation was private even with a few people floating around now. None of them spoke English, so far as he could tell, except Angela, and she wasn't there.

"You know the reasons why that's the case...but part of that 'life and love' that I had ignored for so long came alive only because of you. You've taught a lot of people about that, not even just me. You've gifted Yurio with it...even my uncle a little, I think. I may teach you things about skating...but you've taught me so much more about living." Viktor explained, quietly pausing to sip at his coffee again as warm towels were set down close to each of them, followed by croissants and other food, "There's a tiny part of me that clung to competition for as long as I did because I was so unsure what I'd do when I stopped. Most skaters don't go past their mid 20s...but there I was, 27 years old, winning gold for my 5th consecutive year, being asked after Worlds what my plans were going forward. ...I had none. That was weird for me. I mean, I had a few skating programs floating through my head, but nothing that solid."

Yuri continued to listen in silence.

"You saw at our wedding party how Yakov said I had lost my inspiration, and took the time off to try and get it back... That was true. Seeing you replicate Aria turned that waning flame into a roaring inferno. In the end, you even managed to convince me to come back to competition. But I could only do that...because we became us." He reached his right hand over the table to take Yuri's, then pulled it up and leaned forward to kiss the ring, "If you had kept me around as just a coach, and then sent me on my way back to Russia after the Final...that probably would've been it for me. I don't think I ever would've come back. I wouldn't have been able to take the shame."

"...The...shame?" Yuri finally spoke, but he felt the words catch in his throat a little as he said them.

"You know full well that I already had feelings for you before I ever set foot in Hasetsu." The Russian said, holding fast to that hand, speaking the words against the gold band, "I risked a lot to try and get close to you. What if you rejected me? You said you moved to Detroit in part because you were pining for Yuuko before, and had that whole situation with Nishigori shoved in your face. Then at Worlds, you actually said outright that you probably could never imagine yourself being with a guy other than me. It wasn't just because we were already married by then...it was because you don't sit on that side of the fence."

Yuri lowered his eyes again.

'During the five years that I was away, I tried to ignore a lot of things by focusing on my skating. I wonder what I need...so I can keep skating on my own...?'

"And even though I'd said before that I don't sit on either side of the fence, I really hadn't ever been interested in other men, so there was that worry." Viktor went on, "...So what does one, generally speaking, heterosexual man do when he realizes he's in love with another one? And what does he do to try and win him over?" He narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at the rings on both of their hands where he held them in the center of the small table.

"...I don't...know." Yuri said, "It always seemed like you knew what you were doing, and what you wanted."

"It only worked out in the end because you were receptive. You were 'Viktor-sexual,' as you put it." He said with a smile, rubbing his thumb gently where he held his partner's hand, "And that's what keeps me going. That's how I've managed to stay focused on the skating...because now I finally have something to look forward to when I'm done competing. I have my answer. I have my life and love because I have you."

He could feel where Yuri's fingers slightly folded down to grip his own fingers.

"But if it hadn't worked out that way..." The Russian said, pulling back around the original point he was trying to make, "If you had avoided me or rejected me outright...called me 'friend' or 'coach' and sent me home again...I would never have been able to face you again, on or off the ice. My heart wouldn't be have been able to take it."

Yuri looked up in time to see a tear slide down the Russian's face, and he sat fully upright with a start.

"I don't even know where I'd be right now if you hadn't come into my life when you did." The man went on, trying to hide where he could feel another drop forming, "...So, yes, Yuri...in many ways, you are my coach. Maybe not in skating, but in everything else. When we get to Bordeaux...wear that coach's badge and lanyard for me, and wear it proudly...because now you know what it means to me."

"...Viktor..."

There was a moment of strange silence across the table after that; the only noise being that of the engine, and the far-off sound of attendants going about their work in some other part of the plane. Yuri looked from one item on the table to another, but when he got to looking at the French Press, he finally scooted out of his corner of the cubby and pushed to stand. For a moment, he just stood next to his husband with his left hand on the man's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze even as Viktor was still pinching the bridge of his nose.

The silver skater looked up though, but then shook his head and laughed quietly at himself, "Sorry, I got a little carried away."

"...Don't be sorry, Viktor." Yuri reassured, keeping the one hand where it was even as he leaned forward, with the other holding against his leg for support, "I may have only been a part of your life for a short while, but I've gotten to see a pretty good-sized chunk of what you endured before. I understand why you put everything off to focus on skating. In my own way...I kind of did the same thing when I didn't want to deal with the things going on back home." He leaned down to snake his arms around the man's shoulders, pulling his partner's head to the crook of his own neck, "So don't think so much about what you'd be doing now if things hadn't turned out the way they did. You're Viktor Nikiforov, a living legend in the sport, to the point where they might as well have called you King Midas...every event you touched gave you gold for five years straight. No one in their right mind would let you retire and just vanish off the face of the Earth. You'd probably be some big-time movie star or something by now if not for me."

Blue eyes could only stare forward where they looked over the younger man's arm. He leaned his head a little to nuzzle against Yuri's shoulder, and felt his partner hugging him a little tighter in turn.

"...I'm not sure what I'd be doing right now if not for you," Yuri went on quietly, "...But I know for sure that the world absolutely would not let you go gently into that goodnight."

Viktor's eyes widened a little at that last line, and he pulled back to force the man to look at him squarely. Hazel irises just glanced back at him in slight confusion.

"...Old age should burn and rave at close of day." The Russian finally said, clasping one of Yuri's hands and moving it to get him to turn around, then pulled him sideways into his lap, leaving his legs to dangle into the small walkway.

The younger man went into it easily, putting his right arm behind his husband's shoulders and huffing a single quiet laugh as he leaned in closer, "...Rage, rage, against the dying of the light."

Viktor couldn't help himself after that, and he lifted his free hand from the side of the man's leg to place his palm against Yuri's cheek, and drew him down the last inch between them.