CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTY
There were about thirty or so people left in the event hall when the herd returned with their quarry. There was a small 'stage' set up against one end of the room, placed right in front of a rather large set of windows; the curtains were drawn, and the lights from outside made the water on the glass look like a decorative waterfall display, especially since the lights inside the room were fairly dim, almost dark even. There wasn't any thunder as yet, so the sound of the rain was calming without the risk of suddenly being jarring or abrasive.
The stage was only about a foot higher than the floor itself was, so when Viktor was tossed onto it, he didn't stick out too much more than he normally would've. The people who'd stayed in the room started clapping and cheering to see him, paying no heed to how awkward and uncomfortable he looked up in front of them all.
I'm really not in the mood for this...! He thought, trying to act natural anyway though.
The lights in his eyes made it hard to see more than 10ft out from where he was standing, so scanning the room for his husband was an effort in futility unless Yuri came right up to the front.
Minako and the boys watched from the opposite side of the room, each with a plate in hand and a few assorted bits and bobs from the banquet table behind them. Yuri was holding onto a toothpick between his lips where he'd bitten down on something a moment before, watching his husband desperately try to calm the crowd so he could get down again, entirely unsuccessfully. He was about to comment about it to Yurio, but found the teen suddenly missing.
"Eh? Yuri...?"
"PUT ME DOWN, BABA!" The teen shrieked.
Mila had grabbed him and hoisted him above her head, and though he flailed in an effort to get loose, it did nothing. The lady skater threw him onto the stage next to his older counterpart, and suddenly they were both being assailed from all sides.
"Gold and Silver accounted for, where's Bronze!?" Someone called.
"I'm heeeeere!" Chris answered, stepping through the doorway with Mikhail.
The Swiss skater seemed almost too pleased with the idea of having a mob of people whisk him away, and he held his arms out in preparation for the move. A few seconds later, he was gracefully thrust onto the stage to Viktor's right, and he held his arms up triumphantly, looking more the Gold medalist than Viktor himself did just by virtue of actually wanting to be there.
The Russians both looked impressively miserable, though Viktor was at least trying to pretend otherwise. Yurio just stood indignantly like he always did, planting his hands on his hips and looking like he had better places to be, though tacitly accepting his fate for the moment and staying put.
A strobe-like effect of camera flashes and videography bombarded the trio, and aside from the largely-unknown personal squabbles that had dampened the mood a little, the whole Banquet suddenly felt like old times again. Viktor presiding as the event's winner, Chris sharing the podium, and...well, someone else there with them. The camera flashes faded to clapping and cheering.
Mikhail stayed close to the doorway, watching the display and waiting for something to happen, though mentally praying nothing did. Thankfully, it all seemed to look rather rehearsed, and both anxious skaters behaved themselves like nothing at all was going on otherwise. He took one step to his left, felt the squish in his wet shoes, and then stopped again, looking down at them, and where his slacks were soaked from the knee down.
"Just my luck." The elder grumbled to himself, "I get all spruced up and then I get wet." His eyes went back to his nephew, "He must feel even worse."
"Can we take your coat, sir?" Someone to the side asked.
Grey-green eyes turned towards it, and Mikhail saw several members of the Banquet's wait staff waiting to offer service. He shrugged to himself and nodded, withdrawing his phone and peeling out of the dark grey, nearly black top-coat he was almost never seen without, even indoors.
The suit worn underneath was predictably modern-looking, in utter and complete rebellion to the antiquated feel of his upbringing. The coal-black and slightly glossy material of the suit itself was matched by a dark, wine-red 6-button vest underneath, a white dress-shirt, and an off-white silverish ascot pinned in the middle with a red-glass button. He even had the chain of a pocket-watch dangling across his left side for good measure.
His hat soon joined his coat, forcing the Russian to remember that he'd never put his hair back into its usual way after flipping it for Yurio during the Exhibition. It was comfortable where it was at though, and he left it there, figuring it would probably just look silly if he restyled it after having worn his hat over it for so long.
Hmph...if not for the crow's feet around my eyes, Viktor and I could really have a good laugh at these peoples' expense... Ah, to be young again...
His feet were miserably cold by that point though, and he flexed his toes in his shoes, then looking up at the server who'd taken his coat and hat, "...Is there any chance I can get new shoes and socks, or something close to it?"
The server nodded and raised his hand to get the attention of someone behind him, hollering out commands in French and sending a few members of staff rushing away. A few moments later, they were back with hotel-issue socks and slippers; it was the best they could do on such short notice, but it worked. They couldn't help with the damp pants, but at least the Russian's feet weren't wet or cold anymore.
Mikhail pointed to his nephew where he was still stuck on stage, "He'll need some too when he gets down. Make sure you get a pair of each to him as soon as you can."
"Oui, Monsieur."
He flicked at his hair a little bit to try and get it out of his left eye, and started meandering around the room, looking for the other expected familiar faces. In the dim lighting, it was hard to see anything specific beyond a few nearby people at a time, and inevitably, his eyes were drawn back up to the bright lights shining on the skaters on stage. He saw Yurio escape the spotlight and disappear into the crowd, shorter than most everyone around him and thus able to sneak in any direction unseen. Mikhail wasn't sure where he'd pop up again, or when, but at least with the teen gone, he could tell Viktor was a bit more relaxed.
He turned back around to look in the direction he was walking, and finally spotted Yuri straight ahead. The skater waved casually with a fork in his free hand, chewing on something but obviously in better spirits than when he left.
And then...he spotted Minako.
"Hey, you made it finally!" She said, coming out in front of Yuri where she'd previously been obstructed by him, "Don't you look slick!"
"Ah..." Mikhail started, practically gawking, unable to form coherent thought, never mind speech, "...I..."
Yuri smirked, trying not to laugh as his prediction came true.
Minako stepped closer, relishing every moment of the man's stunned stupor, "What do you think?" She asked, turning so he could see the whole thing, "Do you like it?"
Mikhail could hardly breathe, let alone respond. In the end all he was able to manage was, "I'm having inappropriate thoughts right now."
The ballerina was chortling to herself, thoroughly entertained by him, and moved closer to take his arm and hopefully bring him back down to Earth before turning back to Yuri, "Should you go save your husband?"
"As if he needs saving from this." Yuri thumbed his fork-hand back at the stage, "He settled in pretty well after Yurio got down."
"He'll be wondering why you're the last person to find him though." She pointed out.
"Last but not least." He answered, "He looked pretty uncomfortable when he got brought in. If nothing else, giving him the extra time will make everything else easier. I'd rather he be in a good mood for tonight. Chris always seems able to make him happy again."
"Shouldn't that be your job?" Mikhail pointed out, still a little flustered but getting better.
"I was part of what brought him down before." Yuri admitted sullenly, but then smiled and turned to them, "Besides, if all goes well tonight, I'll make him happy in other ways later on."
"Oh my...Yuri..." Minako said, stunned, "Have you had alcohol already that I haven't somehow noticed?"
"Hah, no...not yet. Viktor told me not to." He answered, "Maybe later."
Yurio finally managed to resurface, having swam through the thick crowd to get back to where he'd started before Mila snatched him, "Sheesh. You'd almost think the media was allowed in here with all the pictures everyone was taking a minute ago."
"You'll only hate to hear the reason why." Minako pointed out, elbowing the teen lightly, "Once you're Russia's sole champion though, the frenzy will be because of you, not him." She pointed at where Viktor and Chris were posing for more pictures, being giant dorks again like they usually were, "Though, if you manage to steal gold from him at the Final..."
"I plan on it." He said confidently.
"Jeeze, you talk about it like I'm not skating too or anything..." Yuri chimed in from the background.
The blonde looked at him squarely, and leaned forward a little with a challenging smirk, then thumbed at himself, "I'm going to take gold at the Final, Yuri. You'll be looking up at me from Bronze, if you're on the podium at all."
The older skater scoffed, "Up at you? Pffsht... If I'm on a lower tier, I'll still be looking evenly at you. But I don't plan on it."
"You still have to make it into the Final."
"I'm going to win Gold at Cup of China." Yuri said, smiling confidently, "Then I'll win Gold at the Final, and then I'll win it again at Worlds when we compete against each other next."
Yurio puffed his chest out, "Fat chance. I'm not the same as I was last year. I already beat your Calgary Short Program score."
The older skater's smile changed from confident to nervous, "...Yeah, so you did..." He switched back to being proud though, "But I still have you beat on the Free Skate side of things."
"Not for long!"
"We'll see." Yuri nodded, moving to set his plate and fork aside and stepped over to where pre-poured glasses of champagne had already been set out. He grabbed two flutes with one hand and then stepped away, moving towards the back of the stage-gathered crowd. Once close, he cleared his throat audibly, and the people nearest him turned to see him standing there, and then moved out of his way. It went on like that until the people at the very front were moving aside as well, and Yuri looked up at the stage, left hand in his pants pocket as the right held the two glasses between his fingers.
Viktor had been holding Chris up with a hand wrapped under his back, the both of them in a pose much like after the first lift in Duetto when Yuri hung off his then-fiancé with one hand on his shoulder. When he spotted the younger skater though, blue eyes went wide and he suddenly let go, dropping the blonde to the stage like a rock.
"Ow."
Yuri smirked, "Sorry, Chris."
The Russian was entranced though and hadn't looked down, simply standing upright and then stepping slowly off the lip of the stage, entirely ignoring the squish of his wet shoes, "Y-Yuri..."
The younger skater held out his right hand, and his partner accepted one the of the champagne glasses. Holding it in his fingers, he watched as Yuri raised his own.
"To the first of every gold medal to be won this season." Yuri announced.
Viktor looked at the glass, and the champagne bubbling under the golden gleam of his husband's ring. He then looked down at his own, and then rose his hand up to meet it, "They can't stop us now."
"The moment of truth."
The Russian smiled, "We were born to make history."
Clink.
.
.
.
Dozens of pictures were taken; just the medalists, each of the performers from their respective disciplines, huge group shots, individual photos, candid shots when no one was expecting to be captured. Everyone had moved from the main, open room to the adjacent hall at one point or another, where large tables had been set up with small signs to designate all the different representing countries that had competed. Coaches, sponsors, choreographers, and skaters alike all piled in for the late night fancy meal. Yuri had sat for a little while with the members of Team Japan, being the only representative of Men's singles at the Trophée de France even if he wasn't participating, but eventually he joined his husband at Team Russia's table.
Mila was there, as was Georgi. Yakov, Lilia, a few other coaches, some Pairs and Ice Dancers that trained in Moscow, Sochi, even as far east as Vladivostok, which was as close to Japan as Russia got.
"I'll take you back to Sochi someday." Viktor said, in a better mood now that his feet were warm and dry in the pair of slippers his uncle had sent his way, "Maybe we could go there in the off season. We'll retrace our steps from that Grand Prix Final!"
"You should really think about competing in Pairs a little before it's too late, Viktor." One of the Ice Dancers across the table pointed out, "Everyone already knew you were good in Singles, but after the show you put on at Four Continents and here tonight..."
The silver Russian huffed, "It would be impossible." He stroked his husband's hand with his thumb where they held each other on the table-top, "The ISU won't allow same-sex Pairs and I won't skate with anyone but Yuri."
"Even if they did allow it," The younger skater pointed out, "I don't think either of us would be willing to drop our representative countries for a joint event. We'll just stick to Exhibitions for now. I think it's more fun that way anyway, right? Viktor."
He nodded, "No rules, just fun. It's more relaxed since we aren't being scored, so there isn't as much pressure to be better than anyone else. We can just skate to something we both like, and let the audience decide if they liked it too, rather than going out of our way specifically to please them."
"You should really tone down your Free Skate, Vitya." Yakov interjected, "The intensity you had out there earlier today was enough to make my joints hurt, and I wasn't even skating."
Viktor just laughed, "That was the point though!"
"You'll break your ankle with that stomping maneuver you did." The gruff man pointed out, a fork in the skater's direction, "If you slam your skate on the ice at just the wrong angle, you'll be on your ass faster than you can say borscht and never skate again."
"I've done it a hundred times already without problems!"
"And the hundred and first will be your last!"
Yuri smiled anxiously as the two argued back and forth like the old days. He cast his eyes over to where Yurio was sitting between Lilia and Mikhail, noting that the teen was silent as Death, picking at his food idly as the banter went on.
He's been quiet around Viktor since the locker-room thing... He thought to himself, Thinking he was going to get hit really must've spooked him. I don't blame him... The thought of the silver Russian's dead-serious expression was enough to make Yuri anxious, even though he wasn't the reason Viktor looked that way. He glanced to where Minako was sitting next to him, then at Mikhail sitting next to her in turn. The photos on the elder Russian's phone came back to mind then as well, and he turned then back to his husband on his left, and reached for the champagne glass in front of him, sipping at it as the two Russians continued their back-and-forth. The flute only had enough left for two sips, and Yuri suddenly realized he'd just emptied his 5th glass. He became acutely aware of how his head was starting to swim a little.
Every glance around the room seemed to lag a little, and all the colors were a little more vibrant. The hand where Viktor held onto him seemed a hundred miles away, so when he stood up to leave the table, half his mind was convinced somehow that he was leaving it behind and his husband wouldn't notice his absence.
I'll only be gone for a minute anyway.
The table got awkwardly silent as everyone turned to see Yuri stumbling away, pulling Viktor along as he went.
"I guess I'm going somewhere." The taller man said, waving sarcastically as Yuri moved him towards the doorway to the earlier half of the Banquet hall, "Uvidimsja popozže~!"
"Where are they going so suddenly?" Yurio wondered, gawking as they went, "Katsudon didn't even say anything."
Mikhail shrugged.
Yuri sluggishly moved through the open double-doors, having difficulty with the change from the bright lights of the table-room to the darker ambiance of the stage-area. He squinted his eyes against the dimness, trying to focus his hazy vision on where the exit hall was, and undoing the single button on his blazer as he went.
It's really hot in here...
He tugged a little at the turtleneck as he fumbled his way along the wall, only to find himself back at the Banquet tables with the pre-poured glasses of champagne on it. He reached for one, but grabbed the open bottle instead, and then started moving away again. Viktor watched him quietly, intensely curious as to what was going to happen.
Does he even know he's got me...?
The young skater suddenly turned about-face though and ran right into him, looking up in abrupt surprise, "V- ...-hic-... -Viktor!"
"Where are you going, Yuri?" The silver Russian asked curiously, smiling devilishly.
"What are you doing here?" The younger man asked, hazy, "I left you at the table with the others."
Viktor held up his hand where Yuri had a vice-grip on his thumb, "That's quite a trick if you did. You left without saying anything though, so I would've followed you anyway."
"I'm really hot. I was just...-hic- going to the bathroom to cool off. I would've been right back." He explained.
The Russian quirked a brow, He's toasted. He took the rather large bottle from his husband's hand and gingerly set it back on the table, "You're going the wrong way if water is what you want."
"It's really dark in here. I lost track of where I was going." Yuri answered, eyes half-lidded already.
Viktor huffed a laugh to himself, then turned his partner by his shoulders and started pushing him towards the outer hall. There was a water cooler just across from the elevators and the lighting was better than in the stage room anyway.
When they found it, Yuri had already undone the remaining buttons on his dress shirt and was again pulling at his turtleneck sweater. He pulled the blazer and shirt off and folded them over his arm as Viktor grabbed the small cone of water. He saw it being presented to him after he pulled his hand off his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, and reached with that hand to take it, "Thanks -hic-."
The Russian watched him quietly. Yuri went to refill the cone, but could hardly coordinate his hand enough to get the water into it without spilling half the liquid onto the carpet, so Viktor went and did it for him.
"You didn't get anything for dinner. That little breakfast bun was all you've had to eat since before my Free Skate, wasn't it?" The silver asked, handing the cone over again.
"I wasn't that hungry. I had a few little snacks while I was waiting for you to get here." He answered, draining the second cup and rubbing his face with a few drops that were left, "My head is swimming already. It's really hot..."
"You've mentioned that already." Viktor mused, "Come with me, we'll walk a circuit around the floor until your head feels normal again."
Wordlessly, the younger figure followed along, letting his partner lead him by the hand like he'd done himself just a moment before. Viktor pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Yuri returned the gesture with a lazy arm around the man's lower back, leaning against him as they walked.
It was nearly midnight by then.
They'd made it to almost the opposite side of the building before Yuri refused to walk another step and fell into a couch in the hall, just in front of a long row of full-length windows, thin sheer curtains pulled across them like in the first Banquet room. Viktor sat next to him and stroked his hair quietly, waiting like that until it seemed like Yuri had actually fallen asleep there.
The hall itself was desolate of people, all the activity retained around the doors to where the party was being held. The other end of the floor was abandoned for lack of events being held in the other available conference rooms. That made it easy to get away and have a moment of relative quiet before returning to the bustle of activity.
"...Stammi vicino..."
"Hah?" Viktor looked down from where he'd been scanning the corridor, feeling his partner rise up again from where he'd faceplanted.
"We used to say it all the time, but not since the wedding party, really..." Yuri added, "Stammi vicino." He'd sat back onto one foot, the other set on the floor, his hands on the couch cushion beneath him in the small space between his knees and the side of Viktor's leg, "It used to be such a huge deal to us, but we haven't said it in so long."
"Stammi vicino, non te ne andare." Viktor repeated.
Hearing it made Yuri smile through his buzzed haze, and he leaned forward. The Russian wasn't sure if he was going for a kiss and missed, or if he meant to land face-first on his chest in the first place, but that's where Yuri ended up in the end. He huffed a laugh to himself and then turned to make the whole thing easier, twisting himself around and wedging one leg under his partner so he could lie straight against him more comfortably, and settled his hands over the man's back. Yuri held there for a moment, but then pushed up again, palms flat against his husband's chest as he moved into the kiss he'd intended a minute before. That achieved, Yuri held there for quite a long time, moving only his lower half to rise up on his knees a little. As he moved them onto either side of his partner's waist and sat back down onto his lap, his hands worked at the tie around Viktor's neck. The Russian hardly paid it any attention, not wanting the long kiss to end for anything. The entire after-party's attendees could've been watching them at that moment and he still wouldn't have stopped.
Yuri eventually pulled away though, once he had the tie fully undone and was able to slip it out from around the man's neck. A few quick motions, and he had it tied around his head proudly. He immediately slid his arms over Viktor's shoulders and held tight around him, leaning back into another kiss, his cheeks flushed more from the lingering alcohol than sheepishness from his actions.
Viktor could feel his young husband pushing against his hips, and at least for a moment, the fact that they were in an open hallway meant nothing to him. His hands went under the other side of Yuri's sweater, up his back, down again, slipping in front and rising up the front of his chest, the same kiss continuing the whole time. It was only when the second hard grind came that he could feel the man was well and beyond eager for him, that he stopped.
He's too sauced to know what he's doing... The Russian thought abruptly, He'd never forgive me if I let this go on and someone walked in on us. It would be a thousand times worse than any photo from the Sochi dance-off ever was...
"Viktor what's wrong...?" Yuri asked with a slur, pushing into him a third time like he thought it would get him going again, "You've never stopped before..."
"Let's go someplace else." He offered, reaching his right hand up to cup his partner's cheek as the left did its best to pull Yuri's sweater down again. As the younger man blinked at him blearily, Viktor glanced around the hall, looking for literally any solution. Not finding anything immediate, he twisted his legs off the couch and forced his partner to stand as he rose, and moved off to pull him around the next corner.
It almost seemed futile. The bathroom had no lock on the door and the multi-stall room was constantly in use at any given moment anyway. The other conference rooms were locked. Even the one maintenance closet was locked. Viktor could hear Yuri getting frustrated behind him, but when all hope seemed lost, he jiggled the handle to an electrical room and found that it opened freely. Relief flooded him, and he pushed the door in, yanked his husband in after him, shoved the door closed so hard that it almost slammed, locked it, and pressed Yuri up against it.
The younger man's arms were over Viktor's shoulders in a heartbeat, pulling him into the kiss like it was the last one he'd ever know. The Russian's hand were just as quick to undo buttons and pull away clothing, pushing the sweater up and pants down. Yuri drew in a hissed breath and gasped when he felt his husband's fingers around him, and he almost climaxed right there for the desperation of it. Pale lips went from his mouth to his cheek, neck, bare chest, and lower, and Yuri dipped slightly against the door a little as he felt the hot, wet feeling around his center.
Viktor had him well-pinned, so even as his legs started to give out under the sensation, he didn't slide too much farther down than he had already. Licking, sucking, bobbing, twisting, stroking, and every combination thereof, the Russian did his best to please him. Yuri had to put both hands on the man's shoulders just to stop himself from collapsing. He felt release at the back of his husband's throat a little while later, and the man swallowed, licking him clean and then finally letting him fall against him, panting heavily as he went.
Yuri parked himself on his husband's lap and draped his limbs around his sides, under the man's arms, catching his breath raggedly as he felt slow strokes along his back. He slouched weakly, upright only for the angle Viktor held him up at. They stayed there like that for a few minutes, Viktor gently kissing at his partner's neck and shoulder as he recovered.
"...Thank you...for that..." Yuri finally managed, still a little dizzy from the alcohol but feeling better.
"I'll always find a way to take care of you." The silver Russian answered, looking up into hazel eyes as the younger man pulled back a little, and ran his fingers through that raven hair, "I love you and I want you to be happy."
"Me too."
"Let's head back then. We can dance a little and then head back to the hotel."