(Author's Note: So...2 people have brought up the fact that Russians wear wedding rings on their right hands, and twice, I checked on my PC to see if there was any way to confirm this, finding nothing definitive. This morning, I checked again, but on my phone instead...and I got the answer I was looking for rather quickly. I've gone back to undo the switch in Ch101, so the rings will never have been put on the left hand. If anyone finds a mention after that where it says they're still on the left, please let me know. I think I found them all, but I only did word-searches for 'ring' in my files so I might've missed one or two.)

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY ONE

Viktor was a blur of activity as he tried to make himself presentable again, all the previous primping for his Free Skate having been lost when he fell asleep. While he got into the first of his three Exhibition outfits though, Yuri made sure their suitcases were ready to go. They'd be going straight from the Gala to the Banquet at the Hotel Burdigala Bordeaux, and there wouldn't be time to come all the way back to the Novotel to change and get moving again.

Just as Yuri was about to ask how much longer his partner would be, however...he got a loud gurgle as an answer.

"...So hungry..." Viktor lamented, looking run down already.

"Sheesh, when was the last time you ate anything?"

"This morning."

"Viktor...!"

"I knowwww..." He whined, "And I wasted all our time just now..."

"It wasn't a waste of time; don't even suggest otherwise." Yuri said firmly, rising up to his feet to pull his phone from his back pocket, "I have an idea though."

The Russian watched curiously as his partner flipped through a few windows, then dialed a number and set the phone between his ear and shoulder. Within a few dial-tones, he got his answer.

"Hi Mikhail, can I ask a favor?"

.

.

Viktor was stuffing his face in the back seat of his elder's rental car, eating as ravenously as he ever had. His older counterpart was a bit surprised at how quickly the food he'd brought back was disappearing.

"Sheesh, you'd think he hadn't eaten in days or something." He commented, looking back at them through the rearview mirror.

"Vkusno~!" Viktor managed to say between mouthfuls.

"Don't forget to breathe." Minako commented, turning back to glance at him.

Wearing his usual black-and-azure track-suit jacket again, Yuri was eating as well, but at a significantly slower pace. He hadn't been starving yet by that point. Something other than his stomach had been gnawing at him anyway. He leaned forward a little when the car came to rest at a stop-light, "Hey...how's Yurio been since earlier?"

"He's been ultra-stoic." Minako answered, "We took him to the rink before swinging back to get you guys, and he's trying to blow everything off like nothing's wrong."

"But he hasn't actually said anything about it."

"No..."

Yuri sagged back into his seat sullenly, "...This is going to be so stressful..."

Viktor gradually came to a stop where he'd been shoveling food into his gob, glancing past the long diagonal slice of bread he held in one hand to see his partner, "...You can't let Yurio bother you, otherwise you're gonna mess up your jumps."

The younger skater just sank further into his coat and groaned. His voice practically echoed from inside, "I can't help it. After that talk we had at the Helsinki airport, I feel responsible for him..."

"But you're not..." Viktor retorted, giving him a strange look.

"After all the things he said though... He looks to both of us like we're surrogate family, and anytime we do something to upset him, it's like we're letting him down on a deeper level than just run-of-the-mill disappointment. He takes it so personally..."

"We're his friends, Yuri, not his parents. He's going to have to learn eventually that we can't be there all the time." The Russian pointed out, "Besides, like I said before, we'll see his Free Skate at the Final. He should be glad that we're so confident that he'll be there. It's not like we put together our Team Skate Exhibition just to torment him."

"That's the other thing that worries me... If he doesn't come around, we'll have gotten everyone all excited about our Exhibition show for nothing. How do we explain it if he won't forgive us? 'Sorry everyone, Yurio got a wild thorny hair up his arse and is too proud to come skate with us'?" Yuri sighed, looking down at the remains of the cinnamon sweet-bread he held there, "We were going to do it regardless of whether all of us got on the podium at the end or not, but..."

"He'll come around. He always does." Viktor shrugged, "He's always been this way. You yourself pointed out how difficult he is to read, as far back as last year's GP Final Banquet. I told you to be careful around him and keep your guard up, else he'd kick you off a pier, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he ended up kicking you into a wall instead. Bounced you off of it like you were a fútbol. You've gotten to a point where the only way he could've done that is if you're letting him get to you. You can't let yourself feel so guilty."

"That all just comes back around to how bad I felt after psyching you out for your Free Skate though." The younger skater pointed out, "The whole day had just made me feel guilty about everything..."

Viktor watched him for a moment, warily looking out the window as the car came to stop outside the Patinoire. There was a massive crowd waiting outside to get in for the best seats, and none of them yet were aware of their arrival. He wasn't even sure yet if they were all aware of the extra performance being put on that night. Yuri looked back down again as he felt a hand come up against his thigh, glancing from it to the arm and then the man it was attached to.

"I already agreed not to put you in that position again." Viktor said, giving the leg a gentle squeeze, "I can't force you to change how you feel about things, but I can ask you to stop worrying so much about it. This isn't the first time Yurio has gotten mad about something trivial. He chose to get angry that you weren't there to watch his show. He put you into this position because he knew you'd feel bad about it later. I know he's come a long way, but he's still the same person who screamed at you to retire back at Sochi." He had the same look on his face as he had during the moments before Yuri's final Free Skate at the previous year's GP Final, "...How long are you going to let him emotionally blackmail you?"

Mikhail and Minako listened quietly from the front seats, but silently agreed to give them the moment alone, and stepped out to curbside.

Slate eyes watched them go, and then returned to look at the guilt-ridden younger skater next to him, "Yuri...I know it means a lot to you to finally have his approval after what he put you through before, but this is just part and parcel to all that. To get Yurio's respect, you also get his scorn and condemnation. You think today was the first time I've had him by his face?"

Hazel eyes were surprised to hear the words, and Yuri turned his face up to look at his husband squarely, "It's...not?"

Viktor shook his head, "Last year, the morning after you got us these rings." His hand raised up to display it, "Yurio told me he'd steal the Gold right out of your hands, just to prove to me how incompetent I was to put my faith in you. And yet, a second after that, despite saying something so horrible...he also said the seaside of Barcelona reminded him of Hasetsu."

In that brief moment, Yuri saw Viktor with the same eyes that once looked up at him like a god. He felt the man's soft fingers come up aside his face, holding palm to his cheek, and he lowered his eyes, feeling the guilt practically being drained out of him.

"I know you probably think I've been cold to Yurio's feelings all this time, but I've known him much longer than you have. I don't do this out of malice for him. To be his friend...you have to be careful. He's the Russian Tiger...beautiful to look at, but not safe to touch. You have to build up a glass wall around yourself. Thin enough so that you can see each other, but thick enough that you don't hurt one another. ...Wakaru?"

Yuri drew in a breath, and then bobbed his head, "Wakatta."

Viktor saw it and smiled, reaching a thumb around to touch his partner's lip, "Then let's go in there and have some fun. It's the Trophée de France Exhibition Gala! No stress and no worries. Just you, and me, and the ice."

The younger skater started to give himself permission to feel better about the whole thing, nodding once excitedly. Viktor leaned in quickly to seal in the happiness with a quick kiss, and then moved to pile out of the car. Yuri did the same on the other side, and within seconds, camera flashes were glittering in the night and a cacophony of clapping and cheering erupted.

Viktor came around the rear of the car and moved to grab his things from his uncle, only to be denied.

"We'll follow you guys in." Mikhail explained, already looking ready to carry Viktor's bags in on his behalf. Minako had Yuri's in turn.

A little surprised, but grateful either way, the pair agreed and started heading towards the small stairs in front of the building, each with an arm wrapped around one another.

There were a few gasps as they got to the top and were at the closest point to the fans.

"Oh my god, Yuri's wearing his track coat! Is he performing!? YURI, ARE YOU SKATING TONIGHT!?"

"He's skating!?"

"Are you in the Exhibition!?"

"TELL US YOU'RE DOING ANOTHER PAIR SKATE!"

They paused briefly, listening to the onslaught from both sides. At the last comment, Yuri spotted the questioner; an older teen girl holding up a Viktuuri banner, held back by a metal half-fence. When their eyes met, the girl immediately became paralyzed, her sign getting a little scrunched up as she seized up.

Yuri smiled at her, and like his husband had a thousand times, winked before walking into the building. The crowd roared excitedly as they disappeared through the doors.

.

.

.

Yuri watched happily from rink-side as the event's multi-disciplinary medalists took to the ice for the opening of the Gala, putting on a show similar to the one from World's the year before. Viktor and Chris flocked together, being massive dorks as they were wont to do, while Yurio hung out on his own. By the time the Exhibition's starting ceremony had ended, Yuri had almost forgotten the tension of the afternoon and was even starting to enjoy himself again.

"Let's hear it for our star athletes!" The announcer called overhead, getting the audience riled up all over again, watching the gaggle of skaters rushing towards the center for one last wave-off before all but one would exit the ice.

It was almost painfully ironic that it was Yurio who stayed in the rink. He made long, idle circles over the inner third of the icy lake as the other skaters headed through the exits on either ends of the arena.

Yuri moved off towards the one closest to where he was standing, waiting with Viktor's skate-guards as he shuffled through with the rest. His first outfit of the night was rather simple, but the Opening Ceremony ensemble usually looked more like 'formal' street-wear anyway. It wasn't so different from his World's Exhibition opener in that respect; black figure-hugging pants, slightly glossy in the lights of the darkened arena, black dress-shirt open part-way down his chest.

"You two are crazy out there." The younger skater huffed a laugh, handing over the first of the two skate guards, "It's a wonder people don't think Viktor's going to leave me for you." He pointed the second blade-guard at Chris.

"Don't give me such hope, Yuri." The Swiss skater mused, rubbing his face with a towel that his own coach handed him, "I've been on him for 10 years."

"Oh Chris..." Viktor finally joined in, "You know as well as I do that the promise of me is more alluring to you than actually having me."

"I dunno, Viktor...the way Yuri ran off during Worlds to get to you..." He rested his forearm on the Russian's shoulder as he pulled on the second blade-guard, "I might be willing to take the risk. I doubt you'd disappoint me."

"Really?" The Russian wondered, putting a finger over his lips in amused curiosity. His other arm went over his friend's shoulder in a sultry tease, "I might get in trouble with my husband if you keep talking like that."

Chris turned his head, putting his face dangerously close to his silver counterpart, "What he doesn't see can't upset him..."

Except that he did see, and Chris got two fingers up his nose for the comment as Yuri wedged himself between the two obscenely tall skaters, pushing the man's face away in a comical territorial display, "Thaaaat's enough of that..."

Viktor was laughing hysterically, tears in his eyes as he leaned over the doorway in the rink wall. He pointed a finger at the blonde, "Denial by Yuri! That's almost a fatality...!"

The raven-haired skater backed up into his husband, "He's mine."

Defending his partner from their mutual friend's pretend ambitions was all fun and games, and Yuri allowed himself to see the humor in it, no longer bothered by the jokes like he had been at Worlds.

The Russian casually leaned forward and draped his arms over his partner's shoulders, curling one of them around to put his hand deftly under the man's chin. He leaned in close to Yuri's ear and whispered something that made him nearly explode into a nosebleed on the spot, and the young skater held his face desperately to prevent the gush from getting any worse. All the while, Viktor was laughing at him.

"...Yuri, you gonna be okay?" Chris asked, shaking his head, "What'd he tell you?"

'That's the third time today you've put yourself between me and my pursuers.' The memory echoed in the younger skater's head, 'Keep that up, and I might have to take you right here at rink-side, in front of all of these people...'

He was just about to make a crude suggestion about what had been uttered, but then the lights above them changed, and the trio looked out over the white frost to see Yurio finally taking his position.

"Ladies and gentlemen...your Trophée de France Silver Medalist, Yuri Plisetsky."