CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED SEVENTY NINE

It had taken quite a while longer to get out of the mass of people than anyone expected, but eventually, the sound of the dragon's roar inside a certain Russian's gut told them they'd better move along. So, they gathered up their skate-bags and started moving around the side of the rink, heading to a temporary rink-side cabana. Heated within, the walls made of transparent plastic, The Winter Fountain was a food-truck-like mini restaurant constructed right up against the ice, the walls of the two so close together that patrons could use the rink-wall as a footboard.

As late as it was, the overwhelming press of the biggest crowds had already dwindled, but there were still a significant number of people in attendance, most doing so on the hope of spotting the skaters who were there for the Grand Prix. But, such as it may, the mini-restaurant was still fairly packed, mostly with patrons just looking for something hot to drink after a few hours in the cold. No one paid the small group any attention as they pulled back the plastic curtain to get inside and look around, hoping beyond hope that something would be available rather soon.

Seeing not one singular open seat, Viktor's heart sank past his stomach, and he whined loudly as he and Chris pulled back out of the plastic tent-fortress, "There's nothing." The Swiss skater explained, "Every seat has an ass in it."

"Can I help you?" An unknown voice asked; a dressed-down waitress who'd barely missed them coming inside.

"What's the wait time?" Chris wondered.

"About 30 minutes for a party of two."

"There's four of us, actually."

"Oh...uhhh..." She pulled back inside and glanced around, then at the dry-erase card on her small podium, "Probably 45."

"Wow~ Even this late at night..." The Russian lamented.

"Viktor...?" Another woman's voice called, this one more familiar.

Two heads snapped around to see a certain ballerina pulling back to plastic curtain that time, "Minako-sensei!"

"It is you guys!" She ventured out into the cold, quickly wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill, "You got here so late! Everyone else has been here for ages already!"

"The Men's event only ended an hour ago." Viktor pointed out, quickly grasping the woman by the shoulders to turn her around and push her back inside where it was warm, "We went back to the hotel to change and grab our coats. We can't get away with skating in our competition gear outdoors."

"Guess that's true." She nodded, turning around again slightly, "At any rate, we've all been in here for a while. You can have our seats if you want."

"Really?"

Nodding again and looking rather proud of her idea, Minako turned her attention to the waitress who'd stopped them at the door earlier, "Can we give them our table? It's four for four."

"...Well, there are other people waiting..." The lithe woman answered nervously, "I can't just skip them..."

"Oh...what if we put these guys on our tab? Then it's like we never left."

"Four...?" Yuri echoed, trying to look around and spot the unseen three. At the far back of the tent, he spotted two heads that he recognized, one silver with a black flatcap and another brown with headbands wrapped all around it, "Oh, there's Mari-nee-san and Mikhail..." He couldn't see who the last person was though.

"I'd need a credit card to attach to your order if you original four are going to be leaving." The waitress bargained, "Then I could..."

"MIKHAIL, MARI, VIKTORIA." Minako hollered, "WE'RE LEAVING."

Viktor made a strange face, but Yuri drew in closer when he saw it, snaking an arm around his back. When he spotted the reluctant group on the other side of the mini-restaurant getting up and grabbing their coats, he grumbled quietly under his breath, seeing the equally uncomfortable and unimpressed look on his uncle's face. However, he watched in silence as Minako retrieved her purse and coat from Mari, and proceeded to pull out her wallet to give to the waitress as collateral for the exchange.

"Hun, you don't have to do that, I have it covered..." Mikhail started, keeping his voice down as he slid his arms into his heavy black woolen jacket.

"I'm getting their drinks too. Don't worry." The ballerina answered, undeterred, pulling out the slim plastic card from her wallet and handing it over, "Let me pay for something once in a while. My tab with you is already astronomical."

"You don't have a tab with me." The elder Russian insisted, reaching to pull his own wallet out of his coat, "And pretty soon 'you' paying for something is going to be 'us' paying for something anyway."

Yuri could see the look on his former teacher's face change, but only slightly, perhaps only noticeable to himself.

Mikhail was already trying to reach his arm around the woman with the other card between his fingers, "Run the bill on this..."

The waitress just deadpanned him, giving the 'this happens way too often already and I don't have time for it' kind of look that anyone with 2 weeks experience in retail and food service might give, and ran the card already in her hand without even looking at the card-reader. She turned her eyes down to the touch-screen just next to it and ignored the incredulous expression on the man's face. A receipt came up on the screen soon after though and she turned her attention back to Minako, "If you can sign here, ma'am."

The ballerina turned where she stood and used a fingernail to scribble her name at the bottom, and took her card back, putting everything back into place before pulling her coat on. She slid her hands behind the back of her neck and pulled her hair out from under the edge of the jacket, letting the brown locks tumble behind her, and looked back at the skaters, "You boys enjoy yourselves. Get whatever you want. You all deserve it after today's show!" She threw her arms up then, and dropped them over Yuri's shoulders, "Especially you! Had me scared there a few times, especially after the Lutz at the end! You nearly rubbed your nose on the ice!"

"Deshou?" He answered, a tint of anxiety on his voice, but smiling as she pulled back again, "If you were any closer to rink-side, you would've been able to hear the voice screaming in my head...!"

"Nah, that would've just been me screaming." Viktor mused.

"It's not a competition!" Yuri huffed, though the Russian just sweetly smiled back at him, deflating the moment entirely.

"Anyway, we'll get out of your hair. I'm sure Nikki's ready to stop babysitting the boys on her own by now." Minako said, thumbing a gloved hand out towards the rink, "We'll talk more later."

Viktor nodded and leaned in, kissing the ballerina's cheek as he leaned in to hug her, "Spasibo, Minako-sensei." She nodded and waved, taking her leave through the plastic doors with a slightly-disgruntled Mikhail following after, as well as his oldest daughter. Mari lagged behind, and Viktor caught her, trying to kiss her on the cheek as well, though she flailed somewhat in protest.

"No kissing! No kissing!" She insisted, trying to escape his grasp.

"...Just on the cheek though, Mari-nee-chan!"

"You kiss my brother with that mouth!"

Yuri just made a face at that.

"I've been doing that for more than a year already though!" Viktor went on, his kissy-face trying to lock onto the woman's cheek, "What difference does it make now?"

"You kiss him everywhere now!" She still flailed.

Yuri could feel his ghost trying to leave him, but Chris seemed to catch on and put both hands on the back of his shoulders to keep it from escaping.

Viktor just gave Mari a sly look, "Not everywhere. Just most places." He laughed, finally managing to land his lips on her forehead, then smiling triumphantly, "And now I've gotten you, too."

"Augh!" Mari whined, defeatedly following after Minako, rubbing the spot on her forehead with the back of her sleeve as she went.

The silver Russian waved pleasantly, finding himself being pushed along by everyone standing behind him, and he let himself be shuffled forward until they found the seats that the earlier four had been sitting in. The small, but high metal table was quickly cleaned off by the same waitress that had greeted them at the front. She passed out several tall plastic cards with the venue's choices on it, and said she'd come right back to take their first orders. Viktor nodded happily, "Sankyu~"

"I haven't seen her get all frantic about getting a kiss on the cheek from you before." Chris chuckled, "I think that probably makes her the only woman on earth who would refuse it."

"Right?" The silver legend laughed, starting to pull off his scarf, "It's like she thinks I went straight from going do-"

Yuri's hands were out and over the man's mouth so fast, it was like to have broken the sound barrier, and he pulled Viktor back down to speak firmly but quietly into his ear, "Enough."

A muffled mumble came from behind the younger skater's hand, but it was just a grunt of confusion.

"I've been letting it slide since Phichit-kun posted that embarrassing picture of us at the hot-pot restaurant in Beijing last year. I think I've been rather patient. But no more." Yuri said, unheard by anyone but the intended listener, "No more jokes about our intimate moments. Those are supposed to be private, not fodder for laughs."

Chris and Phichit didn't need to hear what was said to notice the Russian's expression change. The man knew he was in trouble and his eyes told the whole story.

"Wakarimasu ka?"

Viktor nodded emphatically...and Yuri let him go again, moving his hands instead of pull his scarf and coat off like nothing had happened. Awkward glances went across the table as everyone sat down, though the Russian just stared blankly ahead like he wasn't sure what else to do. Once Yuri had finished hanging his coat on the back of his chair and sat as well, he suddenly became acutely aware of the strange looks being given his way. He sighed quietly to himself and reached his left hand for his husband's right where it was perched on the edge of the table, weaving their fingers together, "So what are we getting?"

Chris and Phichit side-eyed each other, but said nothing yet, watching instead as Viktor tilted to lean his head against the younger skater's shoulder, unblinking and still looking quite stunned.

Yuri's right hand came up then, cupping around the silver skater's cheek and rubbing his thumb there gently, "You're okay."

Still, the waterworks began anew anyway, practically in continuum from Viktor's earlier lament about Makkachin. Beady white eyes continued to stare forward, as though into the next world, looking at nothing in particular.

"I don't think he can handle criticism right now, Yuri." Chris mused, leaning against the palm of one hand as he skimmed the menu, "Go easy on him."

"Dang Yuri, you scary." Phichit added, looking at the scene through the view-finder on his phone, waiting for the image to come into focus before he could click the button. He blinked in surprise as he saw Yuri reaching out across the table, swiping his phone right out of his hands and clicking the side button to shut it down, "...Super scary..."

"No cameras at the table." The older skater said simply, putting the device into one of the pockets of his hanging jacket.

Phichit just slouched and looked forlorn, "...I feel so naked without my phone..."

"You'll live."

Chris reached into his own jacket and handed his phone over as well, "I offer it freely, to stand in solidarity with my naked friend here." He nudged his head at the Thai skater sitting next to him.

Yuri took it with a wry smile and added it to his collection, then held his palm out to Viktor, "You too, lyubov moya."

The silver legend reluctantly lifted his head from its perch on the man's shoulder, and pulled the phone from his jacket, handing it over without question. It, too, went into Yuri's coat for safe keeping, and just as the younger figure twisted back to sit straight, Viktor leaned back in to rest the edge of his jaw against that shoulder again, both hands reaching to take gentle hold of the arm under it.

"Okay, sorry about that...what can I get for y-" The waitress came back, but her words stopped in her throat when she saw the sight of the previously-cheerful Russian skater looking suddenly so dour, "...you...?"

"He needs a mulled cider." Yuri answered on the man's behalf, "We'll both have those grilled Polish sausages."

"Kraut and all?"

"Kraut and all."

"A drink for you?"

"Just water." Yuri answered matter-of-factly, putting the two menu cards together and handing them back.

The woman set the cards under an arm and turned to the other two skaters, "And what about you two?"

"Chicken tendies." Phichit answered happily, "And one of those Peppermint Mocha Smugglers!"

"I'll need your ID for that one."

Chris chortled a laugh under his breath as the youngest member of the table rifled around for a card with English lettering on it, but reached around him to hand his menu card back, "I'll have that turkey Panini and the caramel crème."

"Ahhh nooo I can only find my Thai ID..." Phichit lamented, looking at it, "Oh wait, half of it is in English." He handed it over sheepishly, "I forgot. I don't get asked for ID often."

"Sorry, but you look like the baby of the group." The waitress huffed, looking the card over and spotting the April birth-date in English text beneath Phichit's English-printed name, the rest scrawled in Thai lettering that she couldn't comprehend. She nodded though and handed it back, trading it for the last menu card, and then looked over the rest of the faces at the table, "I'll be right back with the drinks then."

"Thank you." A few answered back, turning their attention back to just themselves after that.

"Man, Viktor's uncle still looks pretty salty from earlier." Phichit mused, "I wonder why he's so particularly upset. He probably got off easiest compared to everyone else that got called out. Well, other than you, Yuri, since you weren't really in trouble."

The aforementioned skater lifted his head from where he'd been rubbing his cheek against his partner's imaginary bald-spot, "I guess so."

"What did you tell him before that he shouldn't do? And when?" Chris wondered, eyeballing the still-somewhat-vacant Russian, "Viktor."

Crystal blue eyes finally came back into focus, but the skater held where he was, "...It was way back at Worlds." He started, letting his right hand go from his husband's arm to reach instead for where the man's hand was resting on his lap, taking it for himself and weaving their fingers together again, "...For Yuri's sake, I was trying to give Mikhail the benefit of the doubt. That he wasn't just trying to weasel his way back into my life like some long-lost relative who'd just found out I'd won the lottery and he wanted to be buddy-buddy so he could ask me for some of it."

"...Well, as far as figure skating goes, you kind of did win the lottery." Chris pointed out, "But I see your point."

"But I didn't trust him at all. From the first moment he turned up at the skating rink in St. Petersburg, after I'd gone back to my original hometown for my mama's funeral, I held a pretty big grudge against him. Nothing he said, no matter how rational, would satisfy me, or change my mind about him." He drew in a breath and turned his head, closing his eyes for a moment where he parked his lips and nose against his husband's shoulder, then finally lifted his head to hold it up on his own, "I didn't want him back in my life because of how badly he hurt me before."

"...What did he do?" Chris wondered pensively.

"I loved him too much as a kid...and then he left me." The Russian explained quietly, "And I only just learned 2 weeks ago why he left. It happened more than 20 years ago...and I only just found out what made him take off like he had."

"You don't have to say it if you don't want to." Yuri said quietly, "It took you long enough just to start telling me stuff."

Viktor lightly shook his head, "Maybe it's time I told more than just you and Yakov." He answered, giving his partner's hand a gentle squeeze where he held to it. His eyes rose and crossed the table diagonally, looking at Phichit, "You saw my father at NHK. You know what he's like."

The Thai skater nodded wordlessly.

"And probably everyone here knows how people on SMS suspected Mikhail of being my father after he first popped up."

More nodding.

"Well, back when I was really young, people suspected that he actually was. Him and his sister, my mother, were twins...and there's plenty of stories out there about twins having weird relationships, sometimes having their own language that only makes sense to themselves." Viktor went on, turning his eyes back down to the table and resting his head against Yuri's shoulder again, "Well, back then, because of how I latched onto him, people started to wonder if I was actually his kid with his sister. It caused a lot of problems, even though I have my real father's eyes. Eventually though, it was enough that he left. Until he showed up at the rink last year...I didn't see or hear from him again. I don't even remember seeing him at the funeral, though he says he saw me, getting the Hell kicked out of me by my father."

Both figures on the other side of the table snapped their heads up, "...So that's what happened..."

Phichit lowered his voice, "No wonder you were so unhappy at NHK."

"Your last Rage Skate suddenly makes a lot of sense, too. I guess anyone would find the energy for 8 quads if they had someone like your father watching." Chris added.

Viktor nodded, pausing his tale only long enough for the drinks to be distributed when the waitress came back. He drained half of his hot mulled cider before continuing, "I tried not to make a big deal out of how much I hated Mikhail, because I was the only one who seemed to feel that way. Everyone else he met liked him immediately...I felt kind of trapped."

Yuri sipped at his water apprehensively, but said nothing to interrupt.

"So I told him at Worlds that he had better watch his step, because the first time he messes up, I'll send him away. I made him put his phone number into my contact list, saying I'd reach out to him in my own time if and when I felt like it, and forbade him from messaging Yuri again. I told him that I didn't want him telling my father all about my life. I told him not to get too comfortable with people, because it was me he should've been trying to impress, not them."

"And then I had the great idea of suggesting he be Yurio's mentor and sponsor right after he got booted from the Russian team." Yuri finally said, sighing as he did so and setting the water-glass down, "I wish I understood how angry you were about it back then. I never would've suggested it if I did."

"It worked out well for Yurio though so I guess it wasn't all bad." Viktor shrugged, "And it's not like Mikhail did anything wrong, at least not until much more recently. He did everything I asked, and never once over-stepped. ...He was perfect, just like I remembered." He took another swig of his mulled cider, "It wasn't until after Trophée de France that he really started taking liberties."

"What happened at Trophée de France...?" Chris wondered, quirking a brow behind those circular rims.

"I started calling him Uncle Mimi again, like I did when I was a kid." The Russian sighed into his drink, "That was my mistake. I got too familiar with him and took all my walls down to let him back in. I guess he just did what came naturally after that; doing all the things he'd wanted to do, but couldn't, because he was on his best behavior before. Now he's got his tentacles wrapped so tightly around everything and everyone I know and care about, that I can't just tell him to go away."

"...Would you? If you could..." Yuri wondered.

"Not necessarily." The silver legend lowered his head for a moment, lifting it only to look at his partner, "I just..." He hesitated, looking away again, "I don't even know. ...Part of me just wants things to stay the same as they have been...where it's just you, and me, and our dog...living together in our little house, in our castle-town by the sea."

"Now you're just making me wish he wasn't coming." The younger skater lamented.

"It's not really up to us at this point." Viktor explained, "Mostly it's up to Minako. Yurio would also lose out if the plan changed."

"You kind of made everyone aware of the fact that Mikhail hadn't talked to her about anything though." Yuri pointed out, "And by the look on her face earlier, I think you might've planted a seed about things. It might not be so clear-cut as it seems."

"...What? Really? I didn't see anything..."

The conversation was suddenly cut off though as the waitress came back with their food, setting each plate down accordingly, asking for next requests, and then moving off again. The momentum of the previous topic seemed to be lost though, and the group was entranced by the proverbial King's Meal set before them all; starving eyes looked on the dishes with ravenous abandon.

"Why Polish sausage though?" Chris asked, amused by the sight of them, "I thought you'd go for something more...Detroit-ish."

"Viktor and I are thinking about vacationing in Germany over the summer." Yuri answered, "So, I figured we should get a head start."

"Germany, huh?" The blonde echoed, "Well, if you decide to go, you should take the train to Switzerland for a few days. I'll show you around my little chunk of Europe."

The two seemed quite pleased with the idea, glancing at one another before turning their eyes back to the Swiss skater and nodding excitedly, "We'll let you know."

"Ah I'm so jealous!" Phichit whined.