CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED SEVENTY FIVE

It took the combined efforts of Chris and Yuri to get Viktor up off the floor, dragging him over to the corner of the lounge where his gear bags had been left. They settled him backward to sit him on the couch, propping him up against the plush arm-rest until he regained some of his faculties. It wasn't as though the Russian had been rendered unconscious; rather, he was so blindsided by embarrassment for having forgotten the 1-year anniversary of their ring-exchange that he couldn't form coherent thought. Even after being set against the couch, all the silver legend could do was stare off into space and wait for his brain to start working normally again

Yuri busied himself with getting his skates off and packing his things away, getting his sneakers back on, and pulling the matching Team Japan track-suit pants over the bottom half of his outfit. He paused a moment and sat on the edge of the couch, reaching over to where his partner was still leaning, still staring away, and brushed a few strands of hair from the man's eyes. He drew in a reluctant breath, but then moved down to the floor, shuffling a few inches on his knees until he could get at the gold-bladed skates still worn on the lanky skater's feet. He sat on the floor and crossed his legs, pulling the left blade lightly into his lap and started working at the laces; untying the knot just under the edge of those red-trimmed, black track pants, undoing where the laces crossed over and looped around each successive hook, and down until the vertical plunge of the boot became more horizontal to go out over the wearer's arch. Pulling the laces loose through the few eyelets that held the boot in place, Yuri carefully pulled it off his partner's foot, and set both carefully aside before reaching for the second and starting the process over again.

Just as he was about to pull the last of the laces up, he could feel the Russian's leg tense up a little where he'd roused and tried to sit up straighter. Yuri lifted his face to look at the man, those blue eyes still looking down, but seeming a bit clearer now than before, "You okay?" He asked quietly, finally pulling the boot away and setting it aside, only to lean forward against that leg, resting his chin over the knee, hands carefully cupped behind the heel and calf.

Viktor still looked rather forlorn, but he managed a subtle nod, reaching his right hand up to rub the back of his wrist against his eyes. He held there a moment, covering his mouth and nose with the palm of his hand, and drawing in a shaky breath before slouching forward a bit to set that hand against the top of his partner's head.

He pet the gelled-back black hair once or twice before Yuri started moving again, uncrossing his legs and twisting them around underneath of himself to sit up on his knees and move in a bit closer. He wedged himself in between his partner's loosely parted knees, and weaved his hands under his spouse's arms, pulling the somber silver legend to his shoulder, "You're too stressed out."

Still, Viktor wouldn't say anything to answer it. He just nuzzled in close to the younger man's neck, and hinged his arms so he could get his hands in to find the zipper of the Team Japan jacket. His fingers found the little metal nubbin, and he pulled it all the way down until it unhooked and he could slide his arms inside, pulling his partner closer as he held to his small frame tightly, forcing Yuri's arms over his shoulders in the process. The shimmering silver show-jacket had been taken off long ago, leaving only the sleeveless black turtleneck between him and the pale skin beneath it.

Without a verbal cue to answer to, Yuri just embraced the silence as much as he did the man in his arms, holding there for as long as the Russian wanted. He threaded his fingers through that silver hair, turning his head inward just enough to find a sliver of skin at the side of his partner's neck, kissing at it gently. He felt a heavy breath against his own neck then, and Viktor finally pulled back, eyes red like he'd been crying for hours, but not a drop clinging to those grey lashes. Yuri sighed quietly and pressed his forehead to the Russian's brow, "I can't un-injure myself...but tell me what I can do to help...?"

"You're with me, right?" Viktor asked quietly, eyes heavy despite his best efforts to keep them open, "On all the things I said before."

"Of course I am. 100%. There wasn't a thing you said that I disagreed with."

"Then why do I feel like I just made a huge mistake?"

Yuri was stunned to hear those words, eyes wide, but then narrowing a bit in worry as his brow furrowed, "You can't control how people react anymore than you can control what direction the wind blows. Mikhail's just going to have to get over it."

"...Oh...did he react badly...?"

"Mmnnnhh... Well...he could've been a little more dignified." The younger figure explained hesitantly, "You must've been pretty catatonic not to have registered it."

The silver Russian just looked down again, slouching back and to the side where he'd previously been leaning against the big plush arm-rest, "...How could I not be?" He asked quietly, "With all the things I'm stressing over, I forgot something as important as the one-year anniversary of our engagement."

"You're being too hard on yourself. To me, it was technically yesterday."

"...Yesterday? Why?" He lifted his head a bit, curiously.

"Because we exchanged rings the night before the Short Program. The context is important to me, too, not just the number on the calendar, since that moves forward a day every year. But, we missed it yesterday because of me, so tonight was going to be the Plan B night."

"...That just means I forgot it twice...!" The Russian set his head back down, his eyes a bit glassy, "...I'm the worst..."

"Viktor..." Yuri shuffled to the left a few inches, trying to get back in front of his partner, only to find the older skater pulling his hands up over his own face, "...Viktor..." He said again, this time gently setting one hand over one of the Russian's wrists, "You're not the worst. Anyone could be forgiven for forgetting something as trivial as this, given what you've gone through these last few weeks."

"...It's not trivial to me..."

"So we'll do something for it when the Final is over. There's no law that says we have to celebrate on the day. We can celebrate when we both have time. Now..." He leaned down, lightly brushing the tip of his nose against the older skater's fingers, "Are you going to come with us to the outdoor skating thing?"

"...I don't know if I can manage it anymore... If Mikhail had a fit about what I said then I don't want to see him right now."

"Viktor."

"...I don't...!"

"Viktor, I'm trying to kiss you, move your hands."

Slate eyes just peered through the gaps between those fingers, and the Russian looked out like he wasn't sure what to do despite how obvious it was.

Yuri just slid his hand up from the wrist he'd been holding, to the side of the man's neck, stroking his thumb against his partner's jaw and the bottom of one ear, "He didn't throw a fit. He's just being sourpuss. Now are you going to let me in or not?"

"...A sourpuss?"

"Viktor. I never thought I'd have to beg you to let me kiss you."

The skater just looked on through his fingers, but the shine in his eyes changed a little, as did the arch of his brow, looking a little more relaxed than before, "...Maybe I want you to. I faintly recall saying you would one day."

Yuri could faintly recall the taunt as well, but he took it in stride, and leaned a little closer, kissing at the back of the man's hands like he'd once done to him, in the early days of their engagement, "Let me kiss you." Again, he touched to the back of those hands, each time on a different finger, "I want to feel your lips. I want to taste you..."

"Wow~ That got pretty steamy." The silver legend felt a flutter in his chest to hear those sorts of words from his husband, "Keep that up and it's going to get R-rated in here despite the lingering audience."

"You'll have to spend the rest of the night seducing me. Make that your penance if you think it's so horrid that you forgot what today was."

"Maybe it should be you trying to seduce me. Every time you blame yourself for JJ plowing through you, I should withhold sexy-time another day."

"You'd never last." Yuri teased, seeing the fingers starting to loosen a little, "You'd be stir-crazy within 12 hours of a missed session."

"Probably less..." Viktor huffed, finally relaxing enough to let his head drop down to the arm-rest rather than holding it up, and reaching his left hand forward to brush the back of his fingers against his husband's cheek, "I can't get enough of you."

The younger figure leaned into the newly opened space, but held himself back somewhat, teasing the kiss by gently nosing his partner's lip, "I love you, Viktor Nikiforov. More than I can ever say, more than you could ever know."

"And I'd still love you more."

"Come here already...!"

The Russian finally cleared his other hand away, and welcomed that kiss like it was more precious than air itself. Hands cupped his partner's face to hold him close, but then roamed over the man's shoulders and back, trying to draw him up on top of himself, at least a little, as he twisted where he lay and moved more onto his back.

Yuri went with it as far as he could go, given that he was still standing on his knees in front of the couch. He let his right hand wander instead, as one kiss evolved into twenty, trailing his palm and fingers down the Russian's hard, toned frame, over the dip of his thin waist, and the curve of his hip, down around the firm muscle that rounded out where the man's leg had curled up against his shoulder.

Viktor paused the kisses then, barely opening his eyes as he felt that hand taking hold of as much of that SkaterBum as it could grasp, and smirked, "The next time we make love, I want you to do to me what you did on the La Première flight."

"Just the next time? Or every time?" The younger figure wondered, mostly out of amusement.

"All the time. Every minute of every day."

"There'd be no time for skating then."

"We'll do it on the ice, too, if that's what it takes."

"Chris would love that."

"Yes I would."

Both sets of eyes slowly turned towards the source of that voice, and saw the Swiss skater getting quite the eye-full as it was, standing barely 6 feet away with a certain set of car keys dangling on his finger. Beside him on his left was Phichit, who had only just barely gotten his phone out to start recording when the jig was up and the two had stopped what they were doing. On Chris' right, however, was someone none of them expected...Tess, who was 8 parts confused and 2 parts impressed by what she saw. There wasn't a hint of rouge on her cheeks thought.

"La Première, huh?" Chris went on, "That's fancy. I'd love to have been a fly on that wall. Maybe you'll tell us the harrowing tale though, Yuri, of what exactly you did on that flight that would make Viktor beg."

"Not on your life." The younger skater huffed, sliding his hand down a bit to clasp at a back of his husband's thigh. He kept those unblinking eyes directly on Chris' as he moved, hand then sliding back the way it came, fingers coming precariously close to center as they moved around to the Russian's back again, "You'll just have to imagine it."

It didn't help that Viktor was playing along, being rather vocal with his needy breaths as he felt that hand moving, "...Y-Yuri...nh...ahhh!"

"...Oh my, Yuri...you're about to do the thing again, like at the NHK banquet...!" Phichit said nervously, only to suddenly realize his phone's battery was at 2%, "Ah! No! Not now!" He twisted away and tapped the device, but the screen went black a second later anyway despite his efforts, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He fell to his knees and raised both hands into fists, "A POX ON THE SMARTPHONE GODS FOR MAKING BATTERIES SO MEDIOCRE!"

"Who needs cameras? I'll have this image seared into my mind for all time." Chris said, giving something of a sultry slow-blink at the Japanese skater, their eyes locked, "...And I still came."

Phichit and Tess both gawked at the man and took a step away from him each, though Chris just stood there, arms crossed over his chest, and rather proud of himself. His cheeks were red and he was quietly puffing a few extra breaths, as he had so many times after the end of a particularly strenuous Short Program.

"...Wait, are those my keys?" Viktor suddenly asked, finally pushing up onto an elbow, and reaching towards the Swiss skater with his free hand, "Ah! Those are my keys!"

"I'm commandeering this ship until further notice." The blonde explained unapologetically, "And we're going to Campus Martius Park."

"All aboard the SS Viktuuri!" Phichit chimed in, eyes still wet with the tears of sorrow for his dead phone.

"...Do all of you imagine us?" Yuri wondered then, still half-draped of his husband.

"Who needs to imagine when we can just watch you do it in person?" Chris laughed, twirling the keys around that finger and turning, "Let's go then. I don't personally mind spending all night having eye-sex with the both of you, but others are sadly waiting for us."

The Russian sighed dramatically, but cocked his head to the side to glance at his partner again, snagging one more kiss, and a quick grope on the younger man's own ample SkaterButt, before finally twisting to sitting up normally and getting up off the couch. He turned and reached both hands down to help his husband up to his own feet, only to put those arms around the man once he was up, holding him close for a moment longer, "Yuri, my dearest and truest love, it seems you should probably have some words with your old friend."

The shorter skater returned the hug eagerly, glancing up only when he felt Viktor pulling back again, gazing into those crystal eyes, "I suppose so."

"Go on then. I'll finish getting my shit together, as Chris so eloquently put it before. Meet you again in five?"

"Sure." Yuri nodded, smiling in equal parts adoration and relief, pulling his hands back to cup the Russian's face between them and steal yet one more kiss before finally moving off, "Five minutes." Reluctantly, he pulled from the embrace, hands trailing down one another's arms before letting go from the tips of their fingers. They watched each other for a moment, before Yuri became hyperaware of Chris' keen eye as he passed the man, and quickly trotted away before the Swiss skater could try to cop another butt-feel of him like he'd done a few times before.

Viktor already seemed to have the same idea, and practically ninja'd his grip around two of the blonde's grabby fingers before they could find their mark, "So how long were you all standing there watching anyway?" He wondered, his voice fading into the background as Yuri hustled further away.

"Only since I heard you mention that flight to Paris." Chris laughed, his voice, too, getting quieter.

Tess smiled nervously, but followed after, spring-steel foot tapping along the floor until they were out of sight.

Phichit just sat on the couch, a confused-happy look on his face, not sure what else to do but patiently wait and silently mourn the loss of his only camera.

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[R.I.P. Phichit's Phone Battery]