CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY

Red plastic walls. Blue and white tile.

...and then the jingle of a cell phone.

"Hello?"

A grey and black sneaker twisted on the cold floor, fidgeting nervously.

"Mom, were you sleeping? Sorry. ...Oh, you were watching on TV? Huh...? Public viewing?"

The young skater panicked, but tried to laugh off the shock of the admission.

"Please! I'm so embarrassed!"

His flustered laughs suddenly cut off though, and he leaned forward, tears forming behind his glasses.

"I'm sorry. I messed up."

His phone-hand dropped like a rock to his knee, and he clicked out of the call with a tap against the screen. The faceplate went dark, and the anxious figure clenched up, tears now falling freely from his eyes. He tried to stifle them, holding his hands up to his face as he leaned forward, but it didn't help. His glasses just filled like basins as he wept.

BANG

"Yuuuuuri!? Are you in here!? Where'd you go!?"

He shrieked at the sudden explosion; the main door to the washroom had been kicked open so hard and fast that it sounded like a car had crashed in somehow.

"Sorry! Did I scare you!? Yakov is waiting! Let's go!"

"Viktor, what are you doing?" Came a muffled voice; someone out in the hallway.

"Oh, there you are!" The older skater laughed, "Yakov wants to do that press conference. We should go, otherwise we'll never hear the end of it."

"Whatever."

Footsteps echoed softly, and then disappeared. It sounded like the door had even closed, and the noise of the outside faded away until only the soft breezy sound of the air conditioning was left. Yuri pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes on the sleeve of that same arm, but the tears only began anew.

"...That figures...the one time I hear Viktor say my name, and he doesn't even mean me..." His voice was a squeak of a whisper, twinged with the previous, and now this new hurt. He dipped his head lower then, hands on either side of his head.

"...Yuri?"

He shrieked again; the voice was much closer this time.

"...Katsuki Yuri?" It repeated.

The sound of skate-guards on tile floor gave away the approach; the tall Russian skater had somehow stepped into the room before the door closed and had waited silently.

"I didn't mean to scare you before...I was just looking for Plisetsky. I didn't realize you were in here." Viktor said, entirely reasonably, "Why don't you come out? I'd rather not be that guy who apologized through a bathroom stall and then left!" He tried to find the humor on it.

Yuri found it difficult though...he could barely handle being in the same event as the Russian legend, never mind stand right in front of him...in a bathroom. His heart was jackhammering in his chest, and as scared as he was, reason seemed to prevail, and he reluctantly reached for the circular latch. The metal felt colder than before, but he finally managed to turn it, and cracked the door open a little bit.

There before him was the living legend himself, still decked out in his Aria outfit like he'd literally just walked off the ice; skates, guards, and all. The expression on his face was initially warm and welcoming, but when he got an eye-full of the younger figure before him (as well as he could anyway, given how Yuri was still mostly hiding behind the red panel,) it changed to worry.

"...Are you okay? You look like you were...crying."

Yuri let the door open all the way after that, but he couldn't come out. His feet felt like they were welded to the floor, and all he could do was lower his gaze, staring at the dark-blue pants around Viktor's knees. Those long legs moved though, and Viktor set to leaning against the dividing wall, giving him the space to step out without feeling boxed in.

"Coming in last doesn't mean you did so badly." Viktor went on, "You can always do better next year, or even at the next competition. You have your Nationals after next weekend, right?"

"...Y-Yeah." Yuri answered cautiously, hiccuping, keeping his eyes down by focusing on clearing the tears he'd left on his glasses. He wiggled his arm to pull the sleeve past the end of his fingers and rubbed the fabric against the lenses with his thumb. He still drew in a few shaky breaths though, despite his best efforts to keep it in so Viktor wouldn't see.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone so upset over the results of a competition though. Angry, sure...but...you look really sad. Is something else wrong?" The silver Russian wondered, turning his head to watch the younger figure, "Being in here by yourself, it looks like you don't want to talk to Celestino about it... You can tell me if you want."

Yuri flinched a little, but went to look at his phone again, clicking into it and finding something. He couldn't manage the words; speaking to his idol was terrifying, but he found a photo and held it up.

"Oh! Is that your dog? I have one just like it back home!" Viktor said cheerfully, holding Yuri's hand with both of his own as he held the phone steady to look at the picture, "Mine's name is Makkachin! What's yours?"

He drew in a sharp breath, but kept his eyes low, "...V-Viktor." He said, barely audible.

"Huh?"

The tears were back in full force after that, and Yuri couldn't find the strength to hold up his phone anymore, "...H-he died...yesterday..."

Blue eyes opened wide to hear it. Yuri started crying all over again, and he brought both hands up to hide his face...but then Viktor did something entirely unexpected. He twisted where he'd been leaning against the red dividing wall, resting his back against it instead, and drawing Yuri into a hug. Right hand went up behind the younger skater's head to hold him close, and the other went around his back.

"I'm so sorry."

The fact that it was Viktor holding him didn't matter anymore, and Yuri pulled his arms down to latch around the man's sides, clinging to him like he was the only person left on Earth, and sobbed against his shoulder.

"We should probably get going."

He heard the words but didn't answer.

"My alarm's about to go off and we have to do our Pair Skate, then the Banquet. No time to waste here." Viktor explained, still holding him, "Besides, I'll be hungry when I wake up."

"Eh?"

Yuri's eyes blinked open slowly. The room was darker than before...the sun had started to set since he'd fallen asleep. Viktor was out cold, almost exactly where Yuri remembered last seeing him, though at some point he'd flipped over and had his arms wrapped around him, hands wedged under the pillows, cheek to his chest.

And then the alarm went off.

He twitched slightly at the sudden noise, but reached over to grab for the Russian's phone to turn it off. The words on the faceplate were all in Cyrillic, but the numbers were still the same as anywhere else. It was 7:30pm.

The Ice Dancers should be done by now since there aren't a whole lot of them... The Exhibition will start in an hour...

"Neh, Viktor..." He started, reaching up with one hand to gently stroke the man's head again, "Your alarm went off. We gotta go."

"Mmmnnhh..." The Russian grumbled, though refused to move.

Yuri huffed a quiet laugh to himself, realizing it was up to him to make sure the man woke up again. After all, it was Viktor's Exhibition they'd be missing if he didn't...and people just wouldn't stand for that. He pushed up onto his elbows and then twisted onto his side, moving Viktor the same way as he went, and eventually got the man onto his back and lightly sat on his stomach. Arms were still around him, though looser now, and Yuri sat back a little further until he could see Viktor's face. As he leaned down to kiss him, he felt the man's arms coming up again from where they'd slid down, coming to rest against his mid-back.

"I'm getting ready. You can sleep another 5 minutes if you want."

Viktor felt his partner get off and heard him step away, but just as Yuri had suggested, he stayed right where he was for a little bit longer. It was only after he heard the younger man come back into the main room, and started turning on the dimmest of the numerous lights, that he finally let himself sit up in the bed. He slowly blinked his tired eyes around the room and spotted the skater in front of the mirror by the desk, slicking back his hair into performance fashion.

He'd already changed into the Exhibition outfit he needed to be in for Viktor's show; it looked rather much like regular clothing though. That was to be expected, however, given the nature of the program. Wearing something flashy, shiny, or otherwise as gaudy as they normally did...wouldn't really fit. The only way it set itself apart from anything Yuri normally wore was that it wasn't entirely his style of normal-wear. Regular blue-jeans were something Yuri almost never used...black ones, sometimes, but never anything like what he had on at that moment. He usually had khakis, sweats, slacks, or training pants. He wore a normal V-cut white t-shirt, and overtop of all that, he had a slim-fit jeans jacket, open down the front. The sleeves had zippers at the ends, which he had open half-way to give them a slight flair. Around his neck he wore a faux bear-tooth, hanging down on a leather cord.

Yuri gawked at himself in the mirror as he set his hair back with the gel in front of him.

I look like some American teen, sheesh... But I guess that's the whole point.

He reached for the damp towel he'd brought with him to wipe his hands off once he was done, but before he could set it down again to tell Viktor he should really think about getting up at that point, the Russian had unexpectedly latched to his back.

"...Oh, good, I was worried I'd have to drag you." Yuri mused, turning his head slightly to press his cheek against the side of the man's forehead where he'd parked himself in the crook of his neck.

"Tonight is going to be fun. It has to be." The Russian commented, hands going around Yuri's front, "We'll make everyone eat their words."

"Maybe we can sort things out with Yurio before we're done, too." Yuri suggested, "I'd rather not leave on bad terms if I can help it."

"That'll be up to him." Viktor shrugged, letting his hands roam a little. He kissed the side of his partner's neck before opening his eyes a little, and then huffed a laugh, "Ah, one of my love-bites is showing."

"Eh!?" Yuri clenched up in a panic, reaching up both hands to hide where his neck was exposed, "Ah jeeze, I should cover it..."

"Why?" Viktor hummed, moving his hands under the front of the t-shirt just then, "Let everyone see."

Yuri's cheeks were flushed, but the feeling of his partner's hands on his skin made him slowly forget about the potential embarrassment. His own hands came down off the sides of his neck, the right going back down to touch the table as the left stayed up to reach back and weave fingers through silver hair. Yuri knew where his partner was going, "...Do we really have time for this? The thing starts in less than an hour."

"Are you suggesting I stop?" Viktor purred, fingers moving low to unclasp the jeans in front, "There's always time for a quickie, and I know where all your buttons are."

"...V-Viktor..."

"Mhm...that's what I thought." He laughed, fingers starting to tease by going barely under the edge of the man's clothing. Right hand stayed where it was to continue the taunt, and the left came back up under the shirt, softly moving across velvet skin.

Breaths soon became heavy, and Yuri's second hand came back down to the table, holding him up in place of where his legs were starting to feel weaker. He pushed his hips back a little as he felt the Russian take hold of him, and Viktor pushed right back against him in turn. Yuri looked up a little, remembering suddenly that the mirror was right in front of him, and he watched their reflections doing what he normally only felt. He could see where the Russian's pale white arms had come around his sides, and part of his hand had vanished down the front of his clothing, the other clearly visible where it was flat against his chest, even through the t-shirt. The lower hand was starting to get the better of him though, moving a little faster as his body gave Viktor what he wanted. He felt where the Russian had moved one of his legs slightly under him, helping hold him up where he was starting to falter.

Yuri's head started to sag, closing his eyes against the sensation and losing sight of the mirror. That didn't matter for long though, since Viktor suddenly pulled his hands back and turned him around, pushing him up to half-sit on the edge of the table as he wedged himself between his husband's legs. The motion was quick, and Yuri heard the table bang against the wall as Viktor got in close, sliding his arms under the jacket to pull into him as he leaned in closer to his face. The younger man's cheeks flushed red as he briefly wondered what the neighbors must think, if they were there at all and heard the sudden thud...and another, and one more, the Russian getting more needy as they went. Hands that had settled over Viktor's bare shoulders pulled back, sliding down the man's arms and going to center, moving quickly to get through the fabric of his clothing and return the gesture. The table hit the wall one last time before Yuri had him, and he heard the Russian suck in a hissed breath as his frame twitched.

"No sense in only one of us enjoying this." The younger skater commented, whispering the words against Viktor's ear as his forehead dipped to his shoulder.

"Who says I don't enjoy making you squirm?" The silver wondered, lifting his head again to press it to his husband's, looking deep into those hazel eyes as Yuri went about his task, "A year ago, you could hardly handle the notion of me sleeping next to you...and now..."

"And now?" Yuri echoed, half-lidding those eyes as he lifted his knees, crossing his ankles behind the man's thighs to press him in closer. He reached back with his thumbs to bring himself into the fray. Hands continued moving up and down, twisting slightly.

"...And now..." The Russian could barely form fluid sentences by then, having to pause between words as he felt the strokes, "...Your Eros...is almost as...as strong as mine..."

"Almost?"

Pale hands went down from Yuri's back to cup under where he was sitting against the table, pulling him up and forward, and then turning to push him in reverse towards the bed. Viktor lowered him gently, kissing and licking at his neck as he went. Yuri's hands had gone around the man's sides by then, trying to keep balanced during the move, then pulling him closer as the Russian lowered in on top of him, one leg going between his own. The methodical grind began in earnest; Viktor slid his arms under the back of his husband's shoulder-blades as he went, holding him in place as he picked up the tempo a little.

Yuri had gotten less self-conscious over the last year, and though he still wasn't very loud, he allowed himself the occasional utterance between urgent breaths. It was so much different then, compared to how they'd been the first time. Viktor had been cognizant of Yuri's fear of being heard back then, but now, and especially when it was Yuri doing something, he didn't care if the neighbors on both walls heard him.

And such was the case when Yuri's hands slid off his back and went between them, clasping them together and gently squeezing. Viktor had even pulled his arms back and pushed up onto them, looking down on his husband as he kept on moving. He paused only long enough to fit his other knee between Yuri's and pushed them apart, sitting back and hoisting them up against his sides as he put his own knees on either side of the man's waist, then pressing in again. Yuri hadn't let go of them, and now it was even easier to please his partner than it had been. He let himself go for a moment and focused just on Viktor, freeing up his left hand to clasp it around the back of the man's neck and pull him down again as the right went about its slippery business. He gave a light kiss, pulled back a little, then pressed in harder, and Viktor went down on his elbows soon after, setting them down aside Yuri's head, weaving his fingers through raven hair. It didn't matter that it had just been styled...it could be done again.

"Y-Yuri..."

He could feel the man pushing against his hands, and knew he was doing well. Viktor pressed his forehead against his, and his breaths were getting more urgent with every stroke. He moved quickly after that though and flipped them again, pushing Yuri above him, and pushing his feet against the wall to get off the edge of the bed.

Blue eyes gazed up at brown, knowing time was running short. Viktor moved his hands forward and took them both again, and shifted his knees up to force Yuri to sit a little bit further up, matching them more evenly before setting out to finish. The younger figure went palms-down against his partner's chest and let more experienced hands go to work, barely able to hold himself up against it. The Russian moved his hips a little under him, adding to the sensation.

Once in a great while, they'd managed to time themselves to finish fairly closely to the same moment, but in that moment, they actually did finish together. And for once, the sticky mess was on Viktor's stomach, rather than anywhere else.

Yuri huffed to catch his breath. He felt a finger under his chin and lifted his eyes, meeting the slate irises below him.

"...Okay..." The Russian said, trying to catch his breath as well, "Now I'll get ready."