(I made some adjustments to the end of Ch105, so please check back on that before you continue with 106.)
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX
The lone male steward was coming back down the row with the hot chocolate that Yuri had pointed out on the menu while Viktor was still changing. As he rounded the last corner to get to the side the pair was set up in, he immediately saw black-clad legs sticking out into the row. He thought he could hear something, but over the plane engine, it was difficult...so he went back into the other row to go around and come back up from the front end of the plane.
Just as he finally got back into the row he needed to be in to deliver the drink, he saw past the wall of the middle cubby, and got an eye-full of a rather passionate...and ongoing kiss. He stood still as a statue for a moment, hoping the two would stop so he could do his job and leave again, but they didn't seem to notice he was there.
Viktor lowered his hand from Yuri's cheek and slid it over his outer thigh instead, the other wrapped around Yuri's back, fingers creeping out around his side. Yuri, in turn, put his own hand over Viktor's cheek, and held tight to the man's shoulder where he still had it in his other hand. The kiss went on...
The steward was getting a bit shifty and uncomfortable at the sight, so despite his nerves, finally cleared his throat to interrupt them as politely as he could.
The Russian crept one blue eye open where he could see past Yuri's face, and stared straight at the man wordlessly. His attention was on his husband, and the potential sudden leap out of his lap that might make him whack his head on the cabin roof...but that didn't come. He was surprised to find Yuri ever-so-slowly opening his own eyes, and turn them to look at the attendant like he was barely more than a man-shaped bird that had fluttered by. It was probably the most Eros thing Yuri had ever been able to manage in public. The look on his face alone put it a level above the hasty display from the Worlds 'just saved from Chris' scene...but the young skater outdid himself again even in that moment by slipping the hand on Viktor's face down just a little bit, so his fingers slid into the curve of the man's neck, just under the back of his head. The fact that his cheeks weren't even all that pink was like a cherry on top for the Russian...and he silently ate up the entire exchange.
"M-Monsieur...!" The attendant finally stammered, gathering up some modicum of courage to approach and set the ceramic cup, with its mound of chocolate-powder-sprinkled whipped cream, onto the table in front of where Yuri had previously been sitting. His hand shook a little as he withdrew, but he held his professionalism in high regard and pulled through, standing up straight again, "V-Voulez-vous autre chose...?"
Viktor's one visible eye closed as he smirked behind Yuri's arm, "Je ne sais pas encore. Qu'est ce que vous recommandez?"
Yuri kept up his doe-eyed stare in silence, though he stroked his husband's neck gently where his thumb had come to rest, feeling at the slight dip where his jaw ended and ear began.
The steward stammered out a few items from the menu as well as he could, and practically ran for it when Viktor finally made his choice and cut him loose.
A moment or so passed before the pair burst into laughter.
Yuri was wiping his eyes, "...I don't know how much longer I could've kept that up." He blurted, holding his free hand to his chest, "I thought I was going to crack up before he left."
"It was all rather impressive." Viktor complimented.
"Really?" Yuri scratched the back of his neck and then settled his hand there casually, "How embarrassing...!"
"Your cheeks hardly flushed at all the whole time. For a second, I even thought you were going to start up again while he was listing off the menu..." The Russian added, pulling his hand back from Yuri's leg to put one finger on the side of his husband's chin, "You know what this means though, right?"
"What?"
"...There's three more attendants...and I have an idea."
The silver-haired skater whispered some words into Yuri's ear, and he nodded a few times in approval as he listened. Viktor pointed down the aisle and made a few other gestures until they finally came to an agreement, and Yuri hopped back over to his own seat.
It wasn't long before two of the three stewardesses came back towards them, looking a bit apprehensive from what they'd heard, but still wanting to do their best. La Premiére cost Viktor $5400 per seat...and they had a job to do to make it worthwhile. They were bringing the first course anyway and it would go cold if they waited too long to make sure the coast was clear.
Unfortunately for them, it was a land-mine, and they both stepped into it with both feet.
Yuri had seen the slight silver cart before either of the two women came into view, and at that point, he gave a nod to his husband and the game began. He took a quick sip from the drink that had been brought out to him, and got quite a bit of the whipped cream on his face in the process. So Viktor, ever the loving spouse, moved his hand forward to help wipe it off, only to get his fingers covered in cream as a result. That just wouldn't do...Yuri couldn't let his husband take his hand back in that condition, so he did the only proper thing...and started licking the cream off the man's fingers. That was about the moment when the two stewardesses had arrived, and got an eye-full of Yuri running his tongue from the base of Viktor's hand all the way to the tips of his small and ring fingers. Small gobs of cream still trailed down though, and the Russian turned his hand over to catch them in his palm, only for Yuri to lean into it and suck the white fluff into his mouth. Viktor made a bunch of dramatic breathy noises as he went, and when Yuri moved from licking his palm to sucking on the two fingers again, he let out a moan, and tossed his head back to tousle his silvery bangs.
The two women backtracked so fast they left the cart behind.
Even Viktor was flushed after that display, and Yuri was practically dying from laugher as he held the small hot towel up to clean his face.
"Oh, we got those two pretty good." The Russian said haughtily, watching as they went scrambling down the hall back to their prep area. He could hear them making protestations, but couldn't quite make out what exactly they were saying. He looked back over to his partner and then reached for the second hot towel, wiping off the sticky cream from his hand, "Only Angela is left."
"She might be prepared." Yuri pointed out, his face bright red this time.
"You're right." Viktor nodded, rolling the towel back up and setting it down onto the plate it had come on, "Quick, Yuri...take off your clothes."
"...Eh!?"
Viktor had already half-started when the fabled woman finally stepped up to their mini-cabin, arms crossed and a nonplussed look on her face. The Russian had his arms curved over himself where he was trying to pull his sweater off, but when he realized she wasn't reacting like he'd hoped, he stopped, so all he could do was look at her from behind where the shirt had tumbled over his head.
Yuri was gawking at him with beady eyes, then glanced up at the head stewardess.
"Monsieur Nikiforov..." She started, looking at Viktor like she was about to lecture him.
"...Oui?"
"Was it you who ordered the waffle?"
The younger skater practically choked on himself trying not to laugh, and Viktor paused...then nodded with an uneasy smile.
"Yes."
The domed plate was set down in front of him, along with various condiments that accompanied it. Angela then cast her eyes over to Yuri, who squeaked in surprise as he realized her gaze was on him.
"Monsieur Nikiforov." She said again, "You requested the breakfast omelette?"
"Y-Yes..."
Another covered platter, though shaped a little differently, was set in front of him along with its own accompaniment of condiments.
"Is there anything else you need?" She asked, French accent thick as molasses.
The two skaters looked up at her nervously, "...Non, merci."
"Then...bon appétit."
As the cart was briskly taken away...but not too fast, as it would seem like retreat...Yuri stuck his head out of the cubby again to watch the woman leave as calmly as she could. When he pulled back again, Viktor was trying to pull his shirt back down. His silvery hair was a bit mussed up at that point, but he smoothed it out quietly, then exchanged looks with his partner.
"Well..."
"Mh."
"Three out of four isn't bad." Viktor mused, practically giving Yuri permission to quietly chortle the laugh he'd been trying to hold back since Angela first appeared, "We can get her on the way out. She won't expect that..."
"Viktor..."
.
.
.
They had been on their best behavior as the plane landed, and looked quite dignified as they allowed the still-flustered staff to gather their things for them and move with them to be the first off the plane. By then, Viktor had styled Yuri's hair back into his skating style, and they both pulled on long, albeit light coats for the brisk Parisian air.
Even though it was raining outside, Viktor still pulled on his sunglasses, and the two followed Angela down to the waiting Mercedes that would take them to the last part of their journey through the airport. He thought long and hard on how they could embarrass the young flight attendant, but he was starting to wonder if it was possible.
...Maybe I overdid it when I came through before, so she's desensitized? I shouldn't have had so much to drink...! I was probably bouncing off the walls half-naked at the time...
Viktor had a finger over his lips in thought.
...Or was I totally naked? I don't remember...
"You getting in?" Yuri's voice brought him back around.
The Russian looked, seeing where Angela had held up an umbrella to shield him from the rain so he could get in the black vehicle. Yuri was already inside, looking back at him like he wasn't sure what was taking so long. Viktor finally stepped up and got in though, and the door was pushed closed behind him.
"There has to be something we can do..." He said as the woman made her way around the front of the car to the driver's-side door.
"I don't think she's going to fall for it now." Yuri pointed out, smiling weakly, "We don't have time to set anything up."
Viktor grumbled as he quietly admitted defeat, watching the woman get in behind the steering wheel to drive them off the tarmac. He folded his right arm over his chest as the left came up to rest on it, hand in front of his face where he tapped his nose with a bent finger. The wheel in his mind was still turning, but the hamster had fallen off long ago...so he just tilted to the side and flopped against Yuri's shoulder.
He heard Angela softly laughing.
[What's so funny?] He asked in French.
[You've given up trying to make me blush.]
Viktor sat upright rather quickly and scooted forward on the seat like the back-rest had suddenly caught fire, [You knew!]
[Of course. The others told me what they saw.]
Yuri looked back and forth between them as each of them spoke, wondering what was going on. Futility set in soon after and he settled to look at the rain outside as they headed for the baggage terminal.
[And I remembered how you were last time you flew with us, so this was almost expected.] Angela added, slowly coming to a stop at an intersection to check for cross-traffic before moving on again.
[...Expected?] Viktor's curiosity had been piqued, [How so...? I was alone last time.]
[You had joked last time about how you'd want to join the Mile High Club while flying La Premiére. You even tried to convince someone on staff to help you in that regard.]
Viktor's eyes went wide, [I did? Scandalous!] Those eyes narrowed right after that though, [...Not someone who was there today, right?]
[No, someone else.] The woman laughed, [You get quite excitable when you drink. We spent half the flight trying to convince you to stay clothed.]
[How far did I get?] Viktor mused, finally sitting back in his seat and draping his hand over his partner's leg like he often did back in St. Petersburg.
[By the time you fell asleep, you were down to your underwear and one sock, if I recall correctly.]
The Russian laughed, holding up his free hand, [Yuri's seen worse!]
[The hot-pot in Beijing, right?]
"GASP!" He returned to English, "Yuri! She knows about the hot-pot photos!"
The younger skater's face went red immediately, "H-How are you even talking about this!?"
"You didn't seem to recognize Yuri when we met you in DC!" Viktor went on, "If you knew about the hot-pot photos, then-"
"In the airport and around co-workers, I must keep a certain decorum while speaking with clients." She explained, "If I behaved as I would with friends, it would have been much different."
"Ooohhhhh..." He turned back to his partner, smirking, "So that's how you knew..."
"...How...I knew?" Yuri echoed.
"Not you; her." Viktor nudged his head over to the driver's seat, "She knew we'd mess around on the plane. Apparently I made some grand declaration last time I was on board that I'd join the Mile High Club in one of their cabins one day. Seems I was right, even if I forgot! A self-fulfilling prophecy!"
When the car finally stopped, the woman grabbed the document bag she'd carried around since DC, and stepped out of the vehicle to open the doors for the pair, having parked under a garage over-hang so as to avoid the rain. As they stepped out, she opened the bag and withdrew a hardcover book, and looked at both of them individually before looking at the book in her arms.
"...Would it be presumptuous to ask for your signatures?" She asked meekly, folding her arms out to reveal the tome.
"Wow~!"
"It's...our photo book, from during and after the wedding party!" Yuri recognized it, seeing the two of them in their Duetto outfits on the cover, "She had it the whole time!"
Viktor pat himself for a pen, though knowing he had none, and he gave a nervous look, "...I would love to sign it, but..."
"Oh, it's okay, I have some markers..." Angela moved to hold the book in one arm as the other rummaged around in the front of the bag, pulling out two silver sharpies, "Here!" She then held out the book excitedly.
Viktor opened the front and turned the first page over until he saw the pristine white inner cover, then bit down on the sharpie cap to pull it off and started to write. When he was done, he handed it to his husband, who looked at the fancy silver scrawl and tried to decipher it, but realized it was in a combination of French and Cyrillic text. About all he recognized was the name, and that was only because French and English used the same alphabet.
Yuri started to write as well though, speaking the words aloud as he wrote them, "Thank you for putting up with us on this long flight, and for making the start of our Grand Prix Parisian Vacation a great success. ...Yuri...Nikiforov." He wrote his name twice, once in English text and once in Japanese.
"Oh, do mine in Japanese, too!" Viktor begged, clapping to himself as he saw Yuri do just that for him. Even though his own name looked relatively simple, written only in katakana while Yuri's first name was in kanji, it still pleased him to see it. He even swiped the book back quickly to write Yuri's name in Cyrillic so they'd be even...and then finally handed back the book to its owner.
She hugged it fondly, put it back into her bag for safe keeping, hugged them...and then, slowly but surely, gathered up their things to take them up to baggage claim.