Chapter 6: Dreaming of You Dreaming of Me

Well past midnight, moonlight poured in through the window of Victor's hotel room, giving his naked, collapsed body an ethereal glow as he groaned and turned his head away from the brightness, trying to let himself fall into a deeper slumber. But with that deeper sleep came dreams, beginning with the heavy drinking and dancing he had indulged in after the conclusion of the short program, then shifting.

The music was loud and he was already very drunk and dancing amongst a sea of other swaying bodies. Like a heartbeat, the song had a pulse that throbbed in time with his, and he closed his eyes and moved with it, bumping lightly, here and there against the other dancers, his lips smiling. A feeling like electricity flickered all around as the beat carried all of them, connecting them into a thrilling, wavy mass and holding them in its thrall.

But as good as it felt to him to be surrounded by all of them, to be held forcibly in their midst, he felt a strange, intense longing to be noticed by someone else. He sensed the scanning eyes before he saw them passing over the crowd…yes! Those intense, searching brown eyes that craved the sight of his body, that touched him far more intimately that any lover's hands ever had, and caressed him as he moved. Arousal came on swiftly and he was glad for the loud music, because he couldn't hold back the sounds of his pleasure at being so intimately stroked and teased and possessed by those lovely chocolate orbs.

He didn't feel the touch of the people dancing with him anymore, only the maddening, erotic brushings of those eyes that seemed to undress him, that savored every inch of his pale, sweat misted flesh, that slid down the length of him, tasting him slowly, making the skin blush and burn. At some point, his legs weakened and he slid to the floor and laid on his back with the sea of dancing bodies moving all around him.

He felt a little chill in his belly and suddenly felt like crawling away, and he rolled over and made it to his knees before he saw the crowd begin to part. He wasn't sure why he felt both excited and terrified as someone moved toward him in slow, purposeful tapping steps that sounded over the music. He knew those eyes were looking for him again, but he wasn't sure he wanted them to see him.

To those eyes, he was always naked. From those eyes, there were no secrets he could keep. They knew every inch of him and possessed him with such ferocity, he knew he would lose his mind and everything else if, after finding him, they ever turned away from him again. But still, the loneliness he felt, even amongst so many people was overwhelming, and he couldn't help wanting those more potent eyes to see him, to find him and touch him, to awaken and thrill him. Those eyes loved him above all else…and that was suddenly terrifying to Victor.

He dragged himself to his feet and turned away, staggering as he tried desperately to find a way out. But the bodies of the other dancers impeded him, slowing him and holding him back until an arm curled around his waist and soft, warm lips touched the side of his throat. A blindfold fell over his eyes and it did calm him slightly. And when the mystery man's voice sounded in his ear, Victor froze.

"Trust me."

As unsettled as he felt, he obeyed instantly. He let the other's hands bring him to the floor and he laid quietly as gentle hands undressed him. Tears flooded his eyes at how good those hands felt, sliding over his skin, teasing his sensitive places. The music still played all around them, and Victor blushed at thinking that this man was ravishing him in front of everyone. It was as though they were clapping in time as the other slowly seduced him. And when the man finally entered him, Victor forgot everything else and danced helplessly for him. He could hold nothing back as that strong, hungry body writhed erotically with his. And at the moment he was about to be overwhelmed, the blindfold was torn from his eyes…

Victor sat up in bed suddenly, his eyes blinded by moonlight and his body shaking all over in the throes of a powerful release. He panted and grabbed at his chest, then he felt a swell of sickness that sent him bolting out of bed and into the bathroom. He emptied his stomach violently, then leaned against the wall, his ears ringing loudly. It was humiliating, but he suffered the torment of having to crawl to the shower and he turned it on and sat. letting the water rain down on him.

God, I don't know if that was a good dream or a nightmare.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and laid his head on his arms, closing his eyes. When the water cooled, he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled back to the bed without even drying off. No dreams invaded his sleep after that, but he woke with a horrid hangover that only got worse when morning arrived and his well-conditioned body wouldn't let him sleep late.

"Oh my god, someone please just shoot me," he groaned to the no one in bed with him, "It would be faster."

A tapping on the door brought another discontented groan.

"What now?" he complained softly.

"Oh Victor," Chris called playfully through the door, "let's go for a run, okay?"

Victor's hand rose, making the shape of a gun that he pretend-fired at the offending sound.

"Come on, it's time to get up," Chris sing-songed, "You're not hung over or anything are you? Rise and shine, sleepyhead!"

Victor snarled and sat up, then immediately felt another swell of sickness. But he managed to get to the door and open in before turning back and throwing up in the bathroom. Chris meandered into the bathroom and handed his sick friend a hotel bathrobe that Victor wrapped around himself. He sat on the floor by the toilet and glared up at Chris petulantly.

"Don't-say-a-word-or-I-really-will-kill-you," Victor deadpanned.

"No," Chris drawled, "you love me too much to harm this absolutely stunning and very sinful body. Seriously, we need to get you laid or something. If you are going to bed with someone, you stop drinking sooner and you don't get so sick."

"I'm surprised you remember back that far," Victor said sourly, "And I've been sicker. I just…"

"Say, what's wrong with you, anyway?" Chris said more seriously, "I mean, your skating is beautiful, of course, but you are just not yourself at all lately, Victor."

"Yes, well, you of all people know I am never really myself. If I was, then no one would like me."

"Ah, that's not true," Chris said, slipping a hand under Victor's chin and looking down at his pale, but still too beautiful face.

A moment later, Victor pulled away to lean over the toilet and throw up again.

"You're really very charming," Chris went on, pretending to ignore the fact that his friend was still leaning over the toilet and holding his stomach.

Victor heaved again, loudly.

"You usually hold your liquor better."

"Fuck you."

Chris smiled.

"All better now?"

"Fuck you even more," Victor moaned, sitting down on the floor and breathing carefully.

Chris looked at his watch.

"You done, honey? You said you wanted to stretch and jog this morning. Masumi's still recovering from the hotness last night."

"Shut up, please," Victor complained.

"Nope," the Swedish skater said, reaching down and taking Victor's arm.

He pulled the Russian to his feet and reached down to flush the toilet.

"You said we are jogging this morning. We are jogging."

"I hate you."

"I know, love. But someone has to make sure you stretch and warm up properly, and if you don't come with me, you know it will be Yakov coming to haul you out. And do you really…?"

"NO!" Victor shouted, then he cringed and grabbed his head, "I'm coming."

"I'll go make some coffee," Chris laughed, "Good boy."

Victor watched, scowling, as Chris left the bathroom, then he stumbled out and almost tripped over the suitcase he was looking for. He tossed it onto the bed and opened it, fishing out the first things his hands found, solid grey pants and a soft black t-shirt.

"You might want to dress a little warmer," Chris advised him, "It stopped snowing, but it's dreadfully chilly, not that a Russian would notice, right?"

"Right," Victor snickered, recovering a measure of his sense of humor as the feeling of sickness drained away.

He found a black jacket he had hung in the closet, then he put on his socks and shoes and brushed his teeth and hair. Chris handed him a cup of hot, black coffee and the two stood, looking out the window.

"What do you say?" Chris asked, "Do you want to just run on the streets or do you want to go to the track this morning."

"I think the track," Victor decided, "I want a place that has trash cans in case I have to throw up again."

"You really need to stop drinking so much, honey. You already have no stamina, and I'm sure making yourself sick a few times a week isn't helping. What can I do? I want to help. You want to form a delectable threesome with Masumi and me? You wouldn't have time to get drunk anymore. I promise you."

"No."

"Then, what is it you need?"

"I don't know," Victor sighed, sitting down on the bed, "I don't know what I need at all. I just wish that someone would tell me what it is…and why I can't see it, no matter how hard I look."

"You're just a little depressed," Chris said, patting his face, "I get that way too. Maybe it's a sign of aging."

"Well, that helped a lot," Victor said with an edge of sarcasm, "I feel so much better now."

"Come on," Chris said, smiling kindly as he pulled Victor back to his feet, "Let's get this workout over with. Then, do you want to go on a tour or something today? We should do something after the public practice."

"Sure," Victor sighed wearily, "whatever you want."

Victor felt his energy returning as the two left the hotel and jogged away in the direction of the high school near the ice skating venue. By the time they reached it, the feeling of illness had left him entirely, and the cold air revived him. His stride lengthened and Chris gave a little chuckle and matched his speed.

"That's better, right?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," Victor confessed.

"You all sorted out now?"

"I'm fine," Victor assured him as they reached the entrance to the track and stopped.

He pulled out his phone and two pairs of ear buds that were plugged into a splitter.

"I have a new playlist," he informed the Swedish skater, "Want to hear it while we jog?"

"Sure," Chris agreed, accepting one of the sets of earbuds.

A pair of quiet brown eyes watched from the stands as the two set off in a paced jog that slowly progressed to a steady run.

Wouldn't that be amazing, Yuuri thought to himself, trying to imagine running that way, in perfect stride with Victor.

His eyes glazed over slightly as the image formed in his mind…a cool morning in Hasetsu and the two of them jogging along the beach.

He could see, out of the corner of his eye as he ran, Victor's hair fluttering a little with the breeze. The Russian's warm, masculine scent brushed across his senses intermittently, a little distracting, but Yuuri would let nothing take away from the beauty of being there at Victor's side, matching his steps and listening to what? Rock music? Russian pop music? Maybe classical? Or perhaps music from his skating programs?

What could Victor be listening to?

Yuuri watched them for a little longer, then he finished his own warm up and jogged out onto the track, trying to stop himself thinking about it. He put on his own music, mostly music that he and Phichit had enjoyed while rooming together in Detroit during their training.

I miss hanging out with Phichit. I don't know how to talk to new people very well, and I don't know the skaters in this competition well, except for their reputations. I wonder if I really deserve to be here with them. I skated all right in the short program. I'm in fourth place right now. If I want a medal, I have to be perfect in the free skate tomorrow. I'm going to do my best. Victor's going to be there.

His mind played back an image of the handsome Russian, leaning against the ice rink wall, resting his chin on a palm, watching raptly, appreciatively.

That feeling, knowing that Victor was watching me. It was amazing and it was terrifying. I wanted more than anything to impress him. I've worked so hard to get here. I can't mess up in front of him. I'll die of embarrassment if I…no, stop thinking like that. It'll be all right. I'm going to give it everything I've got.

I won't fail.

I won't mess up in front of him.

As Yuuri ran down the back stretch of the track, he noticed the other two skaters had stopped running, and that Chris's hand was touching Victor's arm as the two talked for a moment, then Chris set off running back towards the hotel.

I wonder what's up.

Victor stood on the football field, watching as Chris jogged away His eye caught Yuuri's as the Japanese skater drew abreast of him. Victor smiled and reflexively, Yuuri's legs stopped.

"Hey, do you mind pacing me for a few laps?" Victor asked, extending a hand that held the ear buds Chris had been using, "You're Yuuri Katsuki, right?"

"Uh-huh," Yuuri managed, his heart pounding, "S-sure."

He set the ear buds in place and fell in at Victor's side, hardly able to believe such a thing was happening. He made sure his feet moved in perfect step with Victor's as the Russian set the pace, then he held that pace as the two began to circle the track, side-by-side.

It isn't the beach in Hasetsu, but it is just as amazing as I imagined, Yuuri mused, His hair is moving, just like I thought it would. I can smell his scent too. I can see the motion of his body..and Victor's music…classical.

I might not have expected that, but it almost seems to float there, under our feet as we run. I feel it in my body too, radiating like heat from the sun. It feels so good being here, even though we barely know each other. And the music in our ears keeps us from having to say anything. That's good, because I'm so awkward. This…being beside Victor this way is like heaven. I could stay here forever.

He felt Victor lagging and eased the pace slightly. The two continued for several more laps before Victor touched his arm and they came to a stop, stepping onto the infield grass.

"Th-thanks," Victor panted, "I think that's good for me."

Yuuri nodded wordlessly and handed the earbuds back to Victor, who smiled at him and nodded.

"See you around, Yuuri."

He couldn't make his voice sound until the Russian beauty was out of range for hearing.

"Y-yeah, see you around."

He walked back to the hotel in a daze, his mind replaying their running and his senses reliving the sight of Victor's lean, athletic body running alongside him, the wonderful scent of him and the feel of Victor's warm, sweating hand on his arm. When he reached his hotel room, he laid down on his back on the bed, gazing out the window and remembering.

No matter what happens for the rest of the time I'm here, this trip was worth it. To get that close to Victor, to feel his warmth and smell his scent, to hear his voice so close and see him watching me skate…it's like a wonderful, beautiful dream.

I don't want to wake up.

Ever.