Viktor woke up early, but he stayed in the bed until Yuuri's alarm rang. He didn't want to wake him up today, he assumed that Yuuri would need every moment of sleep. But when Yuuri did wake up, he stroked the black hair with his hand and smiled gently towards him. Yuuri smiled up at him, as he was resting against his chest. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," Viktor replied. "Are you ready for today?"

Yuuri stretched out his legs. "Don't remind me."

"Remind you that you're going to win?" Yuuri chuckled and placed a lazy kiss on Viktor's chin. "Or what? Are you planning on just a silver? Now, that would be a surprise."

"Do you like surprises?" Yuuri asked.

"Love them." Viktor continued to stroke the man's hair. Then he remembered that he had something to tell him. It made him a bit more tense and he shifted around a bit, but still held onto Yuuri. "Look, Yuuri," Viktor didn't look at him, but instead stared towards the curtains, that let enough sunlight filter through that it played with any reflective surface in the room. "I don't think I can go today?"

Yuuri looked at him, wondering why there was such a sudden change. "What do you mean, Viktor?"

"Something came up and I…" Did he really want his last conversation with Yuuri to be based on a lie? No, not really. "Well, you know, a client." Viktor got up from the bed. As he was further away from Yuuri, it felt a little bit easier. He gathered his clothes and began to dress again. Yuuri was completely silent and Viktor looked back on him. "You'll do good today, though!" Viktor tried to sound encouraging.

"I thought that we were going to…" Yuuri's voice didn't sound as happy and sweet as it usually did.

Viktor pulled the sweater over his head. "It's not like it would have worked out."

"I'll pay you, whatever they're paying."

Viktor dragged his finger along the desk. "I don't want you to pay for me." He looked back at Yuuri. For a moment the ice blue eyes stared into his, before the Russian looked away again. He never wanted Yuuri to pay for him again. Part of him wanted to repay him for their first meeting, but that would perhaps just be petty. Viktor rubbed his face. "It's nothing personal."

"You have an odd definition of personal."

"Well, it's nothing against you. I like you."

The silence that followed was terribly uncomfortable. Viktor pulled on his pants and grabbed his coat. He sat down on the bed to tie his shoes. What could he possibly say that would make this better? There was nothing that he could say or do that could make Yuuri feel even remotely happier. There was nothing he could tell to himself either. He had gone too far and this was the price that they would have to pay for that.

Should he ask him to not leave a bad review on the site? No, Yuuri wouldn't do something like that. He wanted to kiss him one last time, but that would probably just upset both of them. "Good luck, win for me, yeah?" he attempted a smile before left. The door clicked behind him.

And that was it.

Viktor opened the door to his apartment for the first time in days. It was his though, and it was in a safe clean neighbourhood. It was better than the place he had grown up in. He placed the groceries on the kitchen table, together with the suit he had rented.

It was so quiet. When Viktor had gotten the place, he thought that he would enjoy being alone for the first time in his life. And he had loved it. He had been able to listen to the music he liked, dance whenever he wanted to. He didn't have to sleep on a mattress on the floor, he had bought a bed. He could bring home dates if he wanted to.

Just that there had never been any dates. And it had soon become lonely. He had thought about getting a dog, but he realised that he wasn't home often enough for that. And he wasn't too fond of cats. So he had continued to live alone.

He had gotten used to it, not thought too much about it. But now, when he had met Yuuri… he just wished that he could have brought him there. That perhaps they could have had something more. He laid down on his sofa. He turned on the TV, but he only had the standard channels. He didn't care that much for it, but thought that it could be a good distraction until he had to get ready.

They were airing the Grand Prix Final.

At first, Viktor thought that it would be idiotic to watch. Why would he want to be reminded about Yuuri. But as with most humans, curiosity took over. Yuuri was going to be the last one to skate. What was the harm of watching?

So, he watched.

Otabek Altin was the first skater. Yuuri watched his performance in awe. It was like watching a caged animal, as if Otabek fought with himself to not jump out from the rink. It was raw skill, skill that perhaps could be a little bit more refined, but technically the program was difficult and still flawlessly executed.

Next was the Chinese Cao Bin. Yuuri watched the amazing jumps, and the graceful art that the man put on display for 4 long minutes. It made him nervous. He wanted to do something as equally beautiful? But could he?

Yuuri had cried when the door had closed. He wasn't proud of it and he had had a warm shower to try and hide how teary his eyes was. It had never occurred to him, the realities of Viktor and his relationship. It had just been the in the first few days, and maybe the escort had been right, that it wouldn't have worked out. Yuuri would never had been able to be with a man who's work it was to sleep with others.

Yuuri rose from his chair when Jean Jacques Leroy stepped out on the ice. He had to go and prepare himself. And he had to try to forget about Viktor. Not just for the moment, but for forever.

Viktor had to begin to get ready. He had to shower, shave all over, and he watched Leroy's performance with a clay mask on his face. It was fun and interesting, one could really tell that Leroy was enjoying himself. Viktor didn't get a lot, but he thought that the jumps looked great, and when the Russian commentators said "ooow, another mistake!" he realised that he had no clue what he was looking for.

What was the score? Viktor sat down even though he didn't really have the time, and he wasn't sure he understood it. Leroy was first, then Bin, and third was Otabek. Or at least that was what Viktor thought. Then it was time for Christophe.

Viktor didn't feel like watching.

Yuuri just heard Christophe's final score. An amazing 301.46. He felt himself sweating. "You know what you're going to do," Celestino said encouraging the boy. "You know this, you know you can land the jumps, you just need to show him."

Yuuri looked up at his coach. "Him?"

Celestino looked at his student with a puzzled face. "I said them, but sure, show him too." Celestino had no clue who Yuuri was thinking about, and as long as it wasn't Pinchit (because he didn't want any lovers quarrels when they were meant to be practicing) he would be fine with whatever.

"No, sorry, I just misheard." Yuuri grabbed a napkin, wiping his face with it. He was sweating. He was nervous. If only Viktor was… no. Viktor didn't matter, Viktor wasn't sitting in the audience. Viktor was busy fucking some stranger. Because that was what Viktor did.

"Let's go then." Michele Crispino was skating, and Yuuri could feel his nerves bundling up inside of him as he watched the man from the side of the ice. Celestino talked to Yuuri, but the skater didn't listen.

Michele started to screw up. Yuuri wasn't sure if it made him feel better or worse. Less or more nervous? Yuuri wondered what Viktor would have told him?

Probably something silly. Or good luck.

The Italian-person got the lowest scores. Viktor was sure of that at least. He sat on the backrest, staring at the TV. Not because he cared about the Italian's tears, but because he knew that they would soon be showing Yuuri.

And there he was. In black pants, a white, flowy shirt and a light blue vest. His hair was beautifully slicked back. He was handsome. Viktor fell down into the sofa again, his eyes not moving from the screen. It took time, it felt like several minutes passed as Yuuri was leaning over the rink, talking to his coach. But then he finally moved away from him and took a few first skates towards the centre of the vast, white ice.

Viktor wished he was there.

Yuuri reached his arms out. And the music played.

A step backwards, but no, he was going forward. The speed came from nowhere, only to slow down again. The presenters were talking, but Viktor stopped listening. A triple… loop. He landed it perfectly. Yuuri set of again, crossing the ice, turning like he had showed Viktor how to do yesterday. A Salchow, also a triple. Viktor wasn't sure if that was good, and the people said that he corrected the landing a bit.

He jumped into a spin, stretching his leg out. It was beautiful and Viktor looked at him, wondering half how he did it, half if he would ever get to see it in person. It continued as Yuuri sat down in the spin, then stood up again, reaching for his leg, holding it behind his head.

Yuuri danced over the ice, with the lightness and grace of a ballerina. No, more like how leaves moved in the wind, but instead of being left to the elements, Yuuri controlled each step, each movement. It was beautiful, it looked so easy and Viktor remembered how heavy he had felt on the ice yesterday. How did Yuuri make it look so light?

There was another jump, timed perfectly with the music. Viktor felt the goose bumps on his skin as he watched Yuuri skate, as he attempted another jump, a triple axel. He fell. Viktor's heart stopped, but the skater was up and back on track quick, his movements as graceful as before, soon taking off in another jump, which he landed perfectly. Another one, two in a row. It was fantastic, it looked so easy, so graceful. He moved over the ice, jumping, spinning, all in time to the music. He landed the two last jumps too, and set off in a gorgeous, almost wild array of movements. But each one was graceful, in rhythm with the heart aching music.

Yuuri screwed up a jump, but then there was another pirouette. And then, it was over.

Viktor sat still. He watched the re-run. He watched Yuuri and the man who he had seen him with yesterday, waiting for their scores.

This was it.

Yuuri was last out, depending on what he got now, the competition was over. Viktor didn't understand all the points, the technical score and all such things. But he did understand the numbers that presented themselves on the screen. And he understood what 2nd place meant, and he understood that Yuuri was covering his face out of happiness as the coach hugged him close.

Yuuri had showed him, hadn't he? Sure, the man was perhaps not in the audience, perhaps he wasn't ever going to find out, but Yuuri had showed him that he was a good skater. An excellent figure skater. Sure, he couldn't beat the world champion, but he had landed jumps he had never been able to do before. He had thought about the man as he skated, thought about his beautiful eyes, his kind smile. He had missed him. He still missed him, and perhaps that longing had been portrayed in his skating. Or perhaps, he had finally gained some confidence in himself again. Perhaps the few days together with Viktor had made him realise that life was still unexplored, that just because his boyfriend had broken up with him and he had finished his university studies, life was still out there for him. A life filled with love and more skating, and whatever he wanted to put in it.

He had won silver. Silver! Any skater dreamed to win gold of course, but Yuuri was just as happy with a silver, it was after all the first time that he had advanced to the Grand Prix Final. His mother was so proud of him, he called her as soon as he could. He blushed furiously when she said that they had had a public viewing party and how everyone had cheered for him.

The black-haired man wept tears of joy, trying to hide in the bathroom. Some junior skater berated him for crying over a silver, but Yuuri didn't care. Because next year, he would be back, and he'd win gold.

He was so happy, and he had never felt prouder of himself than when the round silver medal hanged heavily against his chest, when he joined Christophe Giacometti and Otabek Altin on the podium to take pictures.

He had won.

And he was going to continue to win.

It wasn't until Viktor stood outside the grand building that he realised what a mistake he had made. If this was a party, a ball, to celebrate the ice skaters achievements, then who would be there if not the silver medallist himself? Viktor had pulled a hand through his hair, considered going back home. Fuck, it was as if the last bit of logic he had left.

And he would have left if it wasn't for a familiar voice, calling for him. "Viktor, there you are!" Bouchard's hand placed itself low on Viktor's back. Much lower than he would have liked right now. "You're very handsome tonight."

Viktor smiled at the man. "And so are you, Henri."

"I wouldn't mind having you myself."

Viktor looked up at him and leaned in. "Why don't you?" he said. "Let's go back to your place, who cares about this party?" Viktor would do anything to avoid meeting Yuuri again. And to avoid breaking Yuuri's heart as he would have to flirt with the world champion the whole evening.

Bouchard just chuckled. "I love the Grand Prix balls!" he said, but his hand slid even lower down. "There's nothing in the world that would make me miss them, not even you, I'm afraid." Viktor smiled delightfully. "And I have to remember that you're here for our winner Christophe's sake."

"That's true." Viktor said and followed the man as he began to walk up the stairs.

Viktor blended in perfectly, even though he had never been at a party like this before. The grandest party he had been too had been someone's grandfather's 90th birthday. He recalled that he had thought it was so fancy, that the family really had gone all out, renting a place and probably spending weeks doing all of the food.

The food here was from a catering service. The decorations were tasteful. There was an ice sculpture and as much champagne as one could drink. Viktor didn't approach the Grand Prix winner at first. He spent his time with Bouchard as it was easier to talk to the man than having to face the skater. He worried that he would be rude to him because of Yuuri. But once he stood in front of him, he realised how easy it was to slip into the same old role. "Hello there," Viktor said.

The dark blonde man turned around, and Viktor could tell that he recognized him. He had singled him out when the winner was finally alone. "My, oh my, I've forgotten your name, but I remember that handsome face."

"Viktor." The Russian smiled at the compliment. Christophe didn't look bad himself, and Viktor would have been excited about him just three days earlier.

"Are you here with Bouchard?" Christophe asked, stopping a waiter and exchanging his champagne flute. Viktor did the same.

The blonde shook his head and leaned over Christophe's shoulder. "I'm here for you."

"Bouchard did do it then?" Christophe laughed and turned his head so their eyes met. Viktor nodded, taking a sip of the champagne. "I'd appreciate if someone asked me before buying me escorts." Christophe chuckled and moved a bit closer to Viktor. His body wasn't bad, and he was a bit taller than Viktor. If he had never met Yuuri again after meeting Christophe, Viktor would have been thrilled with the prospect of getting to sleep with the man, to spend an evening like this with him. But now? It was hard to even act.

"I'll do my best to make you forget I am one."

"Well, it's still a bit…" Christophe gestured his hand, indicating that he thought the whole thing was a bit awkward. "I'm sure he's living out some perverted fantasy and will want to hear all of it from you afterwards."

"Your secrets are safe with me, Christophe." Viktor slid his leg between the skater's and leaned in for a small kiss. But the skater stopped him. Viktor looked up at him, surprised to be stopped at such an early moment, but withdrew himself from the man.

"Ah, let's not do that," Christophe said. "We can hang out, flirt a bit, but I have a… sort-of-boyfriend waiting for me at home."

Viktor smiled his first real smile that whole evening. "You do?" he asked.

"That's why you should ask before hiring escorts for someone." Viktor laughed and moved away from the man, but still paid him attention, just not a close, sensual attention. "But, you're handsome, I'm handsome, I've won gold. Let's have fun tonight, alright?" Christophe emptied his glass. "Plus, I want you to get paid."

Viktor laughed. "Let's dance!" he said, and pulled at Christophe's hand. He would more than gladly be his friend.

Yuuri danced together with Sara Crispino and her brother. Mostly Sara, but her brother always hanged around like a bee around a flower. They were dancing a foxtrot, and Sara moved much more gracefully than Yuuri did. "I can only waltz!" he complained jokingly to the woman who waved away his complaints.

He was having fun. He was celebrating.

And then, their eyes met.

Light blue eyes meeting dark brown ones, connecting across the room.

Yuuri knew who they belonged to before he saw his face. Why was he here? The blue eyes stared back into his for a moment, and then they were gone. But Yuuri didn't feel like dancing any more.

Yuuri wanted to know who Viktor was with, but the dancefloor was too crowded. He couldn't make his way across it even if he had wanted to. "Are you alright Yuuri?" Sara asked cautiously as she watched her dancing partner turn whiter.

Yuuri looked at her. "I think I saw someone?" he said silently and then looked away fom her. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, maybe you should sit down though, you look pale." Yuuri nodded and they moved towards the tables, were Yuuri sat down. Everyone had wanted to talk to him that evening, he had felt great, as if the world was finally opening to him. Yuuri felt fulfilled, as if he knew where he was going in life. He had thought about Viktor, of course, but it had been different. He had started to become thankful, and he had thought that he should text him, suggest that they met up again.

But when he had seen him again, he was reminded of what Viktor was doing there. That Viktor had probably gone back to spend the day with Bouchard. What if he had been in the audience? Yuuri leaned over the table. He remembered what Viktor had said two days ago, how disgusted he had sounded over the fact that he had to sleep with a man like Bouchard. And yet he was doing it again.

Yuuri's heart ached in his chest. He felt bad. He felt so bad for the man. He felt bad for them. "Yuuri, do you want some water?" Sara asked and he felt Michele's hand on his shoulder.

"No, no I'm fine!" Yuuri insisted but Sara still insisted on it. Perhaps a glass of water would be nice, and he was left on his own for the first time that evening. He leaned over the table, sighing heavily.

He could see him in front of him when he closed his eyes.

Those blue eyes that had looked into his with eagerness.

"You're so sombre, did something happened?" Christophe handed Viktor a glass after the man had suddenly pulled Christophe off the dancefloor. Viktor sat down on a chair, looking down at the floor. He had almost forgotten about him with Christophe around.

"Chris, I have been acting so unwisely for the past days." Viktor took the glass and watched as Chris sat down next to him.

The skater ran a hand through his hair. "Tell me! What is this horrible thing you've done?"

"I've fallen in love."

"With a client?" Christophe sounded intrigued. Viktor smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Not me right?" Christopher teased him, Viktor grinned at him and then looked across the crowded room. "Who then?"

"Yuuri…"

"He's like 14, Viktor?!"

Viktor looked back at Christophe. "What? No, he's 22? Yuuri Katsuki."

Christophe laughed, crossing his legs as he moved in the chair. "Right, right! I thought you were talking about someone else entirely." Viktor smiled at him. "Yuuri isn't with someone that I know of? Go for it!"

Viktor shook his head. "I can't."

"So what? You're going to be unhappy your whole life just because you fuck men for a living?" Christophe smirked at him. "Maybe that's Yuuri's kink."

"Stop it, Chris." Viktor laughed. "He lives in the US, I live here. He's a silver medallist, I've never achieved anything in life. I barely went to school."

Christophe nodded. "I get it, you think you're not worthy enough." Viktor didn't reply, just twirling the glass in his hand, watching the golden, bubbly liquid spin around. "You're handsome, you seem intelligent enough, you care for him, you speak English fairly well. Why wouldn't he want to be together with you?"

"Well, you're not sleeping with me because you have a boyfriend, right?" Viktor looked up at him for a short moment. "I wouldn't be able to be faithful to him."

Christophe nodded slowly, placing his now empty glass on the table. He understood Viktor's dilemma, and he had no solution to it. "But why don't you let Katsuki decide if he can deal with that or not?" Viktor was yet again silent. "Or do you feel that you have to be the one to save him? He's an adult, not a child." Christophe smiled gently. "You're planning your whole life together, Viktor, just let things go the way it goes." Christophe stood up. "Okay, I'll go over to him, and congratulate him, then I'll mention you…"

"Are you insane?"

"Shush, I'll mention you, I'll talk shit about Bouchard and that you really want to get away from this party." Christophe nodded to his own words. "You'll be in Yuuri Katsuki's bed quicker than you can say 'rendez-vous'." Viktor grabbed his shirt. It was as if they had been friends for ages.

"Don't you dare."

"Thank me later." Christophe said with a wink as he freed himself from Viktor's grip. The Russian was left staring after the man as he disappeared into the crowd.

Viktor emptied his glass before he stood up to follow him. What a stupid, stupid idea.

Christophe moved across the crowd, not stopping to greet anyone, but flashing a few smiles. He had been surprised that the rather unknown skater from Japan had been able to get a silver medal. It had dawned on him why when Viktor had spoken.

In French, figure skating was called patinage artistique. Artistic skating. It was the same in German; eiskunstlauf. Ice art. The English name made it sound as if it was a mathematical process, some kind of logic you could follow. Of course, there was technical scores, things you had to do, but there was a reason that it was considered art.

Christophe didn't consider it a sport, but rather an outlet for his creativity. When he stepped onto the ice, he created a piece of art. He was more like Michelangelo and less like Monet, but still. He created something and when he did, he put his soul into it.

To have that, one must have felt something recently. You had to have something to dedicate your art to, you had to feel that someone cared. And Viktor was that kind of person, the kind of person that artists would dedicate their work of arts too.

Christophe got why.

And if he didn't get to play match-maker that evening, he would forever fault himself. (Although, perhaps he could use that feeling for next season?) "Yuuri Katsuki!" Christophe said and placed a hand on Yuuri, who still laid over the table. "How much have you been drinking?"

Yuuri looked up at Christophe. He was a great skater, he had one poster of him together with others hanging in his room. He had cheered for him in the last Olympics. "Christophe?" Yuuri sat up. "Not much, I've just been dancing too much."

Christophe sat down next to him. "Congrats on the silver." Yuuri looked down at his lap. "You came from nowhere, quite a dark-horse." Christophe waved towards someone across the room. "Did you found some inspiration?"

Yuuri shook his head. "I guess I just… finally managed to believe in myself. To not be so nervous."

Christophe nodded. He could imagine that a man like Viktor could have that ability. He had seemed an expert at talking after all. "I'm here with someone. Have you heard of Henri Bouchard?" Christophe stopped yet another waiter, getting both of them more champagne even if Yuuri tried to protest.

"I have." Yuuri said, remembering the name very clearly. "Seems a bit like an idiot."

"A rich idiot, and don't say that in front of him." Christophe sipped on the champagne. It was kind of amusing, wasn't it? "Anyway, he hired me an escort."

Yuuri's face betrayed him, even Yuuri knew that. He had tensed up and his eyes had opened. He looked stressed just from the word escort. It was probably unrelated, right? If he had decided to get an escort… then surely it wasn't that uncommon? "I see." Yuuri said.

Christophe continued to smile. "Bouchard is really a horrible man, I don't doubt that he thought it through much, and now I have an escort hanging around me when the both of us would rather be at different place. I have a boyfriend you know?"

"Oh?" Yuuri said.

"Yes," Christophe didn't let him ask any questions. "Either way, he's a gorgeous man, that's correct, and while we agreed on having a nice evening, I feel like there's something keeping him, you know?"

Yuuri would later look back on that evening and think about how obvious it was that Viktor had told Christophe about Yuuri, how obvious it was that Christophe tried to ease the tension between them. But right then he didn't think about it and either way, Viktor stepped out of the crowds, causing Yuuri to not think at all. He looked good in a suit too.

"Viktor!" Christophe said. "I was just telling Yuuri about you, he won silver today."

Viktor had wanted to protest, but instead he turned to Yuuri. He couldn't help but to smile at him. "Hi," he said.

Yuuri smiled back at him and then looked at Christophe. So that was what Viktor had been doing today? Had he been in the arena? Probably not. Yuuri's eyes flickered between Viktor and Christophe, before saying hi back.

"Viktor sit down! Or at least congratulate him."

Viktor smiled whole heartedly as he realised that Yuuri wasn't angry with him. "I do like surprises."

Yuuri blushed. Viktor did too. Christophe smirked as he considered his job done. "You two look cute together. You can have him Yuuri, you're not dating anyone, right?"

Yuuri shook his head. Christophe got up and patted Viktor's shoulder before disappearing into the crowd of people. "I saw you. On TV. It was beautiful."

"Do you want to dance?" Yuuri stood up.

"I do." Viktor said.

They were both drunk, and both dancing more enthusiastically than many, especially once the music changed to a more modern variety. Viktor laughed at every corny joke that Yuuri made, Yuuri blushed every time Viktor reminded him of how cute he was. They clung to each other, Viktor at some points not being sure if they were holding each other up, or if they just gripped at each other to harshly. Yuuri grabbed Viktor's tie to pull him down for a kiss.

Viktor was happy. And Yuuri was happy too.

They could have kept on dancing throughout the night, if there wasn't for Bouchard. The man saw Viktor, the escort he had paid, not doing the work he had asked for. He was drunk when he made his way over the dancefloor, grabbing Viktor's shoulder. "Hey, you!" he said. Viktor realised what the issue was quickly, and for a moment he was scared. He thought of bad reviews, of not getting paid, of being kicked off the site for good. "I'm not paying you for this?!"

Viktor wasn't used to messing up, and part of him wanted to smile gracefully and apologize to the man. Yuuri took Viktor's hand and thought about the words Viktor had said about him. "Well…" Viktor cleared his throat. "He didn't want me, I can't force myself on people."

"Go back to him, convince him." Bouchard's voice was cold. "Or you're coming with me."

Viktor looked at the man. "No."

Bouchard slapped him. It was a hard, quick slap, and he tried to grab Viktor's arm. Viktor took a few steps backwards, but curled together slightly. It pained Yuuri to see, and instead of joining Viktor in his retreat he stood still, staring back at the Frenchman.

People around them reacted to the sudden change of the mood, as well as the sound of Viktor being slapped. "I think you should leave, Bouchard." The voice came from an organiser of the Grand Prix Final, and soon a judge joined in. "Might be for the better."

Bouchard scoffed. "I'll cancel the payment, you whore," he said before turning around, leaving them. Viktor put his hand on his cheek, and moved his jaw in pain.

"You're okay?" Yuuri asked him. Viktor nodded, he was mostly embarrassed, both for his and for Yuuri's sake. People around them didn't seem to be asking Yuuri why he was with a prostitute though, so Viktor calmed down a little bit more. "Maybe we should leave too?" Yuuri suggested.

"It's your party," Viktor said with an attempted smile.

Yuuri cupped his cheeks with both of his hands, standing on his toes to give Viktor a kiss. "Let's leave."

It wasn't surprising that they ended up in each other's arms. Yuuri's hands were buried in the silver locks as soon they closed the hotel door. Viktor on his knees in front of him, Yuuri leaning against the door. They didn't even make it to the bed, and when Yuuri couldn't take it any more, they hastily undressed. "Fuck me this time." Yuuri asked as he laid down in the bed, Viktor only grunted, not wasting any time. They kissed each other constantly, barely giving each other time to breathe. It was sloppier this time, and Yuuri hurried Viktor along when he thought that he took too long preparing him.

"I don't want to hurt you," Viktor complained when Yuuri told him to fuck him.

Yuuri moved his legs so that they rested on Viktor's shoulders. "You won't." Yuuri's fingers grabbed locks of hair as Viktor fucked him. They became lost in the moment, they were noisier than they should be considering it was 2 am and they were in a hotel.

It didn't matter, they were the only ones who mattered.

"I'll quit." Viktor's sentence came unexpectedly.

Yuuri opened his eyes. "What?" he asked, moving his hips as Viktor had stopped moving.

"I'll get a normal job, for you, for us." Viktor wasn't sure how it would work out, but that was what he wanted.

Why was Viktor thinking so much when they were having sex? Yuuri looked up at the man. His own mind was devoid of any thought, and that Viktor was thinking about life, in complicated ways too, surprised him. Yuuri didn't feel like discussing such things with him right then, and simply reached up to kiss him (god, he was flexible, Viktor thought). "I love you," Yuuri said.

"I love you too," Viktor said and it was the first time he had said it and truly meant it. Perhaps he had meant it back when he was 14, but with Yuuri, it was a different kind of love, not just a fourteen-year-old's childish crush for the university student.

"Now, fuck me." Yuuri wiggled his hips, impatiently waiting for Viktor to fuck him again. He felt so good, his legs draped over Viktor's shoulder, laying comfortably in his lap. They were both too drunk to have sex really, but somehow they had managed to get this far. Viktor's cock felt so good inside of him.

Viktor chuckled and leaned down to kiss him again, picking up the pace. They came, they rolled off each other and Viktor pulled himself closer to the man. "I'll try at least. But… I don't know if I'll manage." Yuuri nodded, half lost on what the conversation was about.

"You'll do well," he promised.

"And what about us?"

"We can skype, I can come visit," Yuuri stroked Viktor's hair, "If things work out alright, I could move my home rink to Russia."

"What if I can't get another job?"

Yuuri began to braid the grey strands of hair. "I don't care what you do, but I have the feeling that you don't enjoy it." Viktor rested his head against Yuuri's stomach, sighing. "It won't be easy for you, but I think that change is inevitable."

"It's all I have ever done." Viktor closed his eyes. "It's all I'm good at."

Yuuri let go of the man's hair and stroked his cheek. "You'll surprise everyone, I'm sure you will." The black-haired man bent down and kissed Viktor's hair. "Let's go to sleep, we can talk more tomorrow."

"YUURI!" Yuuri heard his voice clearer than anyone else's. Right now, all he wanted was to collapse on the ice though. Had he really landed a quadruple axel? Yuuri panted, holding onto his knees. The crowd cheered and clapped.

It had not been easy, not for any of them. Viktor had seen him off at the airport, holding his hand and giving him a light peck on the cheek. The first few weeks had gone well, when Viktor still had money to live on. He had searched around for a job while Yuuri continued to practice and enter competitions. The time-difference had been difficult, but they had managed with the help of Skype and Instagram.

When Viktor's money ran out though, it was far too easy to slip into the old habits. At first, he tried to ignore it, becoming more and more desperate in finding a job. He could be hungry, he had been hungry before, and he didn't mind having to save on electricity, but when his rent was due, when he risked losing his apartment, he caved in. It was the first time he felt filthy while doing it. And afterwards he made a frantic phone call to Yuuri who was working on his new internship in Detroit. The skater had calmed him down, said that he didn't care, that he understood. It did hurt though, but Yuuri didn't consider it cheating.

It wouldn't be a single occurrence. Viktor had trouble finding work in Sochi, were he was half known in hotels and restaurants. It didn't help that he didn't have any experience and his grades from school were anything but great. Yuuri comforted him over Skype as often as he could, and Viktor tried to spend his money as wisely as possible.

Then April came and Viktor managed to get a job as an administrator of an hotel. Basically, he worked in the lobby, but he liked it. He was charming, good looking and spoke English. It suited him. "The money is all right too, and I like it. I have to wear a suit, but that's fine." They had been eating Indian food together. Bought in separate parts of the world, Yuuri now in Japan (making the time difference even worse) and Viktor still in Sochi, but eaten in front of each other.

"I'm so proud of you!" Yuuri had said. Viktor was more proud of Yuuri, who had won several more medals that season.

They spent the summer together in Sochi. Viktor had picked him up at the airport and proudly showed off his home. He finally had someone to share it with, and while they argued about petty things, and Viktor thought that Yuuri got up way too early to run in the mornings, they had a nice couple of months together. It was much, much easier to say no when one of his old "colleagues" texted him, saying that they were looking for a third part in a threesome or if they could recommend someone too him as they themselves didn't have time. Everything had been great that summer. Viktor deleted his profile, which he should have done earlier, and changed his numbers. Yuuri made sure to buy as much groceries as he could, feeling a bit guilty that Viktor sacrificed so much for him.

Perhaps they would move back to Japan together, or perhaps to St. Petersburg. It wasn't decided. But today, Yuuri had just skated in the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona, being in the lead after the short program.

Perhaps he'd win, he wasn't sure. He waved to the audience and those blue eyes looked into his. Viktor had a sign, Yuuri had seen him make it over Skype. "I'll bring it to the final and I'll wave it around, so you better win this weekend!" Viktor had said before the Cup of China (which Viktor followed from his laptop), showing him the sign with Yuuri's name on it. It was still cheesy.

Yuuri picked up a stuffed animal and bowed to the audience. They cheered for him. Viktor cheered for him.

Perhaps he would win over the newcomer Yuri Plisetsky. Or he'd win silver again.

Winning Viktor had been a lot easier.