Author's Notes: So yeah. Yuri's a ballet dancer. Keep in mind that I did take some liberties with the ballet for Dracula. Thank you for reading.

Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai.

Being on the ice with a stick in his hand was the most thrilling thing in his life. Racing to the puck, slicing a path through his opponents and gliding across the smooth surface as fast as he could was invigorating. No amount of anything else could get his heart racing the way hockey did, even if afterward his bruised and often bloodied body hated him for it. He didn't mind. The marks left behind were trophies of his hard work and dedication.

Hockey was a brutal sport, a battlefield. For all the padding and protection they wore, Flynn had seen numerous players leave the ice bleeding. When his heart was in it, no amount of risk mattered. Today was one of those days where he gave the game his all.

He wondered if this was how Yuri and Estelle felt when they were on stage. While Yuri had never professed his love for dance the way Estelle had, Flynn could see it like a fire in his storm grey eyes whenever he danced. It gave Flynn a new appreciation for the art.

As much as he wanted to focus on Yuri once more, he put his head squarely back into the game. The Zaphias Knights were down ten points against the Nordopolica Gladiators. The 3rd quarter came to a close and the team was prepared to pull into overtime if necessary, but they still had time to take the lead.

The team captain, a man of towering proportions named LeBlanc, signaled for them to switch strategies, and Flynn and his teammates moved effortlessly into the formation that they had been practicing for weeks. The announcer was shouting over the intercom, but Flynn blocked out the noise and focused on the goal in front of him, protected by a huge, heavily padded goalie. His defenses were imperfect. Flynn could make the shot, given the puck, but one of his teammates had it. He could have to run interference.

He slid in to one of the opposing team, who was quickly closing in on the puck, and slammed him against the Plexiglas partition that separated the audience from the brutality of the ice. They cheered for him, for the violence. He pulled back and dodged another opponent. He had to keep them off the puck. They needed this goal.

The buzzer rang, the light of the opposing goal flashing brilliant red. The announcer screamed for the goal, and on the scoreboard, they gained.

Like fire in their blood, that single goal drove them harder and faster. The buzzer sang out in a succession, a siren's song of victory for them. And then it was all over.

The cheer of the crowds and the cry of the buzzer rang in Flynn's ears over the warm congratulations of his team, and all the way through his shower. The cool water calmed the fire in his blood and cleaned the sweat and blood from his body.

When he returned to the locker room, it was abuzz with his teammates, chattering of their victory as they dressed for their lives off the ice.

"Great job out there, Flynn!" Hachette, another player about his own age, threw an arm around his shoulders. "Man, you really slammed that guy into the wall. I'm surprised he got up."

"What a bruiser!" Another said, pumping his fist in the air.

"It's been great having you on the team, Scifo," LeBlanc added in his voice that was always just a little too loud, but his praise was seldom heard and very welcome.

"I'm just going the best I can."

"This has to be our best team yet." The others continued as he discarded his towel and dressed in the clean set of clothes that was hanging in his locker.

"If we keep this up, we might make it to the state finals."

"Hell! I'm thinking we should just aim for the nationals!"

Their enthusiasm rubbed off on him, and he was glad. He had been worried about joining a new team, but for right now, for once in his life, everything seemed to be going right. He had a pretty nice apartment in a pretty nice neighborhood. He had a steady paycheck and a job that he loved. He had family nearby. And then, there was Yuri.

Yuri was something else entirely. Cool and calm normally, a fiery passion burned just under his skin when he performed and he was good. He had been something of a constant in Flynn's life these past few weeks and Flynn was glad. He enjoyed the company in more ways than one.

The team left the locker room and parted ways at the entrance. Yuri was waiting there, a broad smirk across his face. Flynn hadn't been expecting him, but it was a pleasant surprise.

"Whoa, Flynn, who's that?" one teammate asked. "Looks like he's waiting for you."

"Oh, he's just a friend of mine." He held back the smile that tugged at his lips. He hadn't come out to his teammates yet. He was waiting for a better time, after the shock of his transfer and the period of getting used to things wore off. He hoped for positive reactions when that day came, but he had been on the receiving end of quite a few negative ones and wasn't putting too much faith in it.

"Alright, man." He got another pat on the back.

"See you guys at practice tomorrow."

"Yeah. We've gotta work hard so we can cream those guys from Dahngrest next week."

He watched as the team left him and Yuri behind, and he breathed a little sigh of relief.

"Good game." Yuri moved to walk beside him, his hands shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie.

"You were watching?"

"Why not? You've seen me perform. Thought I'd at least return the favor."

At this point, Flynn had been to several performances by the Halure Dance Troupe, both to cheer on Estelle and to watch Yuri. It would be a lie to say that ballet hadn't become something of a guilty pleasure for him. He regrettably had missed the final performance of Giselle for his game, but he had been lucky enough to catch the opening show.

"How about some dinner? My treat to celebrate your win."

"Sounds great." Even better when his stomach rumbled loudly. "Where are we going?"

"There's a great little pizza place around the corner. I know the guy who owns it. I figure if you're going to be living in this city, you might as well learn where to eat."

They walked out of the municipal ice rink and a few blocks down the street. They rounded a corner and after a leisurely ten minute walk, they came upon a little hole in the wall pizza shop with a grimy neon sign that ready 'Tolbyccia Pizza and Subs'. It was unimpressive outside, but as soon as they stepped in, it was very different. The walls were covered in framed pictures and news clippings of events throughout the city spanning back what looked like nearly fifty years. Stories of volunteer firefighters and monuments erected to honor those who'd worked hard to make the town what it is.

A few tables sat in the middle of the restaurant, which was lined with booths. The place was packed even at this time of night, full of people talking over one another and over the tinny old jukebox that played from the back. Behind a counter on the side was an open kitchen where a massive man with long white hair and a matching beard was flipping long, thin stretches of dough into the air. He looked their way as the bell tied to the door rang, signaling their entrance.

"Hey!" He called out to them, dropping the dough he was working onto the counter.

"Hey, Don!" Yuri called back.

The man waved them to the counter and Yuri obeyed, dodging a couple of rambunctious kids as they weaved through the crowd of customers. Yuri put both elbows on the counter and leaned forward.

"What's on the menu tonight, Old Man?"

"Anything ya want, lad."

"What do you want on your pizza?" Yuri posed the question so suddenly that it surprised Flynn.

"Uh, whatever's fine."

"Give me one with the works."

"You got it, kid." The man moved back to working to dough, but his attention was on Yuri and Flynn. "So who's yer friend here?"

"This is Flynn. He's the newest player for the Knights."

"Ah, so this is him." Don dropped the dough onto a worn and scorched pan and molded it around the edges. He ladled out some tomato sauce and started to pile the pizza with toppings and cheese. "I heard the Knights finally won one fer a change."

"Y-Yes,sir."

"Keep up the good work!" He threw the pan in the brick oven behind him and had a hearty laugh of it. "Now ya two get a table. Harry'll bring it out when it's ready."

"Thanks!" Yuri spun and wove back through the crowd to a small booth in the far corner near the front window. He sat with his back to the window and Flynn plopped down across from him.

"Who was that?"

"That's Don Whitehorse. He's had this pizza place open for as long as I can remember. He really takes an interest in what's going on in his town." The tone of Yuri's voice, sharp and dark, made it sound like the huge pizza chef was some sort of mafia boss. "He's a good guy, though. He's proud of this town and its people, so I figured he'd have taken an interest in you pretty quickly."

"I see."

"Not to mention that he makes the best pie in town."

It made Flynn smile a little as he glanced over the photos and news articles dotting the brick walls. Even if Yuri hadn't told him, he could see that this was a man who took a lot of pride in his work and in his town. He hadn't expected that in a town this size, with its massive population and endless streets, but something about it made him feel at home.

Between the two members of the wait staff, one a scruffy middle aged man who seemed to regard Yuri fondly and the other a stiff blond young man who barely said a word, they received a couple of pints of beer and some bread sticks.

"Congratulations on your first victory." Yuri raised his beer high with a smile and as soon as Flynn tapped his glass against it, Yuri threw back his head and chugged it down.

A moment later, the young waiter returned with pitcher of beer and a bubbling hot pizza. Yuri dug in hungrily, and Flynn followed a little bashfully a second later. It only took a few bites for Flynn to know that Yuri wasn't kidding about Don's ability when it came to making pizza. This was the best he had ever had in probably his whole life. It was so good, in fact, that he inhaled two slices before he had even noticed. He awkwardly looked over to Yuri, who was leisurely munching his second slice with a look that was unconcerned considering the rate at which Flynn had devoured the food.

"Pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah." He swallowed a gulp of his own beer. "So I've been meaning to ask. How did the reviews for Giselle come back?"

"The critics loved Estelle, as always. She's not prima ballerina for nothing."

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"What did they say about your performance?"

"Oh." He chuckled a little. "The male dancer's performance is often unimportant. You see, for the most part, the purpose of the male is as a prop, a pedestal, upon which the ballerina offers herself up before the audience. It was Estelle's show and not mine."

For some reason, that answer put him ill at ease. It may have been the humor in Yuri's voice, or the coldness it disguised. Who wouldn't want recognition for their hard work? Especially when they worked as hard as he had seen Yuri do.

"If it means anything, I thought you did great."

"Thanks."

"So, do you know what the next show is going to be?"

"It looks like right now it's going to be Carmen. We start rehearsals next week."

Flynn leaned back in his seat, stretching, and let out a contented sigh. "Oh, it's been a while since I've had a meal like that. Sort of miss it."

"There's something special about home cooking. You know, I'm a pretty decent cook myself. I'll make something for you sometime."

"How about breakfast?"

Yuri understood the implication of that phrase, and as soon as the check was paid, they were off to Flynn's place.

Yuri had to admit, hanging out with this blond had been fun. For three weeks, he had enjoyed a casual relationship with Flynn, and three weeks of some of the best sex of his life. They were on much more friendly terms now than they had been at the onset. That one fistfight and the evening that followed seemed to clear the air pretty quickly, even if they did still occasionally butt heads.

Yuri was surprised when he regularly showed up at the ballet performances, but Flynn revealed that his cousin was the prima ballerina Estelle. That quickly squashed any silly notions that he might have been there to see Yuri. Flynn said it himself. They were just friends, after all.

He had become quite familiar with Flynn's apartment. It was impeccably clean, if a little barren. The kitchen was largely unused, but most of his familiarity was with the bedroom. He knew the smell of Flynn's comforter, his shampoo, and had gone home more than once with those smells lingering on him. Tonight would be no different, and he was pretty okay with that idea.

Flynn pressed him into the mattress, settling his weight on top of him as he tugged at Yuri's shirt. His lips were occupied with Yuri's neck, a part of the body he seemed particularly fixated with, and his kisses there were a mix between gentleness and bites. Yuri constantly found himself the morning after their trysts covered in bites and bruises, but he didn't mind. He caught Flynn's lips as he pulled back for a breath and to get his own shirt out of the way, and kissed him hungrily. The pizza they shared had satisfied his hunger, but hardly all of his needs.

The grind of their hips together reminded Yuri how uncomfortably tight his pants had become. He moaned as Flynn's hands moved up his shirt and pulled up over his head. Flynn pulled his own shirt off and continued his path of kisses and bites down Yuri's bare chest. Thankfully, Flynn didn't wait too much longer before yanking off the last of their clothing and tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor.

The haze of kisses and caresses continued, their bodies pressed so close together that it was maddening. This was taking too long for Yuri's tastes. He clamped his legs against Flynn's waist and rolled over on top of him.

"Hey-"

He silenced Flynn's complaints with a hungry kiss and straddled his lap. Flynn moaned as their bodies met. Yuri liked that sound of Flynn. He found that he was able to get lots of interesting noises out of him. He continued the motion of his lower body against Flynn's, looping his arms around his neck. He let his hands wander across Flynn's broad shoulders and up into his hair moaning as the heat of their interactions fueled only further, harsher movements.

When the simple play of their hips was not enough, he reached down and took their heats in his hand. Flynn didn't complain. He only moaned louder, leaning back into the pillows, no doubt thoroughly enjoying the touch. This however lasted only a moment.

Flynn stopped the motion of his hand, having broken the trance of pleasure briefly. "I want more of you," he panted.

Yuri had no objection. He slid down further on the bed and sat on Flynn's calves to keep his legs from moving too much during what he would do next.

He leaned down, letting his hair drape across the low of Flynn's abdomen and his thighs. He licked the swollen head of Flynn's heat, getting a wonderful groan to rattle up Flynn's throat. "Yuri," came next, his voice thick with heat, lust, and a terrible yearning.

Yuri continued, taking it in a little further, parting his lips and humming just a little. Another trembling moan urged him onward. Flynn's fingernails scraped against his scalp, threading through his hair, trying not to let himself be taken by ecstasy. It was a fight he knew he was going to lose, but he still held on. He didn't tug or pull, although he could feel that urge in Flynn's fingers as Yuri displayed his experience and took his entirety in.

A wave of moans and choked utterances of his name praised his ability and compelled him to hum a little harder. Flynn wasn't able to handle this long and nearly pleaded with Yuri to stop. He wasn't ready for this to be done yet.

He gave Flynn a moment to recover as he returned to his lap and reached into the nightstand beside the bed where Flynn kept the things they needed to keep going. He pulled out the bottle of lube and a condom and got to work. He ripped open the foil wrapper and fitted the latex down Flynn's heat. He flipped open the bottle of lube, smearing its contents across his fingers, and tilted his hips up.

A little dumbstruck, Flynn watched as Yuri prepared himself, moaning slightly with the in and out motion of his fingers. He took his time, making a series of little noises that caused Flynn to squirm. He had figured out Flynn's kink pretty quickly, and had no qualms about using it against him. He moved a little more, bucking slightly, and letting his voice grow a little louder, making sure that Flynn got an eyeful of his show. Flynn was holding back, fingers firmly curled into the bed sheets to keep him from jumping in immediately. He licked his lips absently, eyes never leaving Yuri.

Yuri ended his little show before it drove either of them too far and he planted his knees against the bed. He lowered himself slowly onto Flynn's heat, moaning as he took it all in.

Flynn's hands left the bed, grasping Yuri's hips. Yuri rocked against him, enjoying the shiver of pleasure that shot through his body.

And then he moved, a sharp upward motion completed as he dropped back. Again and again he moved, the strength of well-trained thighs making his movement effortless and maddening as the waves of pleasure poured over him. He kept up the motion, increasing the speed. He leaned over Flynn, catching the headboard of the bed to use as a support.

As wonderful as this was, Flynn so readily aided him, taking Yuri into his hand and stroking him with a motion that was an echo of his own.

Yuri threw back his head, moaning so loudly that he heard his voice crack. Moans and the trembling cry of Flynn's name weren't enough to express how he was feeling. The pleasure that was quickly overwhelming him was blocking out all sense and his movements became ragged and clumsy. His grace as a dancer melted away and he was left fumbling and calling out and holding on for dear life.

The moment of ecstasy was only seconds away, a shred of time so hot and sweet, and it washed over him just as hard as if all time stopped. He crumpled into Flynn's lap, fingers still gripping the headboard for dear life, and his thighs aching.

Flynn caressed one his trembling thighs, propping himself up slightly with the other arm. Yuri pulled up a little, and leaned down to exchange weak kisses.

The first time Yuri had fallen asleep in Flynn's bed, it had been out of necessity. He had had a long day and had been worn out, so had Flynn. The warmth there now had become something that he was more comfortable with than he should have been. He was trying so hard not to set himself up for disappointment.

He woke to the scent of something cooking- something delicious. He made very little use of his kitchen and kept a minimal amount of any necessity in it because he simply didn't cook. He wasn't any good at it.

Flynn rolled out of bed and fished around on the floor for wherever he may have dropped their clothing. Yuri was already out of bed, but most of his clothing still littered the floor. Flynn finally grabbed the tee shirt he had worn the night before, only to squeeze into and find it was Yuri's. He switched it out for the black one that was actually his and pulled on his boxers before treading out into the common area of his apartment.

Yuri was standing at the stove, his hair swept up in a messy ponytail, wearing his own dark boxers and the oversized jersey that had been from Flynn's last team. It was much too big for him, but that's what made the whole scene cute. He treaded quietly and barefoot across the tile, and as soon as he was within range, he pressed himself gently up against Yuri, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in the crook of Yuri's neck.

"Morning," Yuri said.

He replied in a light-hearted grumble, "I'm hungry."

"Breakfast is almost done." Yuri lifted the pan of eggs just slightly off the stove to show him.

"Food's not what I want." He pressed in a little harder, pushing Yuri against the oven. He placed a few open mouthed kisses on Yuri's already hickey covered neck.

He elbowed Flynn harshly in the ribs, sending him a step back with an 'oof'. "After breakfast. If you're good."

Flynn got the hint and instead of pursuing the issue further, set the table and made a pot of coffee. By the time the coffee was finished, so was breakfast and they sat down to eggs, bacon, and pancakes. It was good to have a home cooked meal for the first time in weeks. It was also nice waking up to breakfast and some pleasant company. He could get used to this.

About halfway through their meal, there came a knock at the door. Flynn dropped his fork mid bite in surprise and Yuri looked at him over his coffee. He hadn't been expecting anybody at this time in the morning, or at all, but he still got up.

"Just a moment," he called as he padded back into the bedroom to get a pair of pants on. The ones off the floor would have to do; he just made sure that they were actually his. He tugged them on as he walked, managing the buckle of the belt as he made it to the door.

He opened the door to find Estelle standing there, smiling brightly. "Good morning!"

"Oh, morning." He was a little puzzled by her appearance here. He hadn't been expecting her, but he also supposed that it wasn't out of character for her to drop in to check on him.

"I'm sorry to drop in so suddenly. I was just wondering if you wanted to go grab some breakfast."

"Actually, I-" How was he going to explain this to her?

"There's enough for three," Yuri said loud enough for them both to hear.

Flynn turned away from the door, incidentally giving Estelle a full view of Yuri sitting in Flynn's old jersey at the small dinette. He hadn't bothered to retrieve his own pants.

"Yuri?"

"Morning."

She went quiet for a moment as the realization came to her. "Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe we can do lunch then if the two of you are busy."

"It's fine. I've made plenty of food." He even got up from eating his own to fix her a plate.

"Are you sure?" she asked tentatively as she shifted her sight over to Flynn.

"I guess." It was too late to keep this a secret. All in all, she seemed to be taking this pretty well.

Flynn moved aside to let her in, and thankfully, Yuri had padded back into the bedroom, returning a few moments later as Estelle sat down to eat, dressed in his clothing from the night before. He sat back down after setting down her plate, and went back to eating. There was a strange, awkward silence hanging over them, that Estelle finally broke.

"Thank you for breakfast, Yuri."

"No problem."

"Um, I didn't know that you knew each other." The tone of her voice wasn't upset, but was laced with surprise. Flynn supposed that surprise was the least terrible response to finding the scene that she had. He had had much worse before.

"We met at the gym," Flynn said. His stomach was no longer interested in the meal before him. What may have been a good reaction now could quickly sour.

"So are you dating?" She sounded hopeful.

"Nah. We're just sleeping together," Yuri replied before he could, and finished off his cup of coffee.

Flynn passed a hand down his face in frustration. Yuri had no sense of tact when dealing with things like this apparently. Estelle looked at him again, her surprise growing, but she was trying to smile. He couldn't tell if she was merely trying to mask anger in front of her coworker.

The silence hung there again, nearly unbearable, only interrupted by the brief scrape of forks and knives across cheap flatware.

"So it's good to see you making friends, Flynn." She was trying. She was trying so hard to take this well.

"Yeah..."

Yuri stood abruptly, his chair skidding hard again the tile floor as it was pushed back by the momentum. Their eyes went directly to him as he dropped his plate and cup by the sink and disappeared back into the bedroom.

Before Flynn and Estelle even had a moment to have a word between themselves, he returned, his black hoodie, and and the chain of his wallet hanging from his belt. He pulled on his socks and shoes, which had been left by the door along with his keys. His hand was on the knob before Flynn even realized that he was leaving.

"Wait, Yuri-"

"I've got practice." He didn't turn to look at them. Something was wrong. The fact that he wasn't even looking at them told Flynn that much. "I'll see you later."

The door snapped shut quickly and Yuri was gone. Flynn wasn't sure what went wrong, but it had gone spectacularly wrong.

Estelle touched his arm, a sensation that caused him to flinch. She clamped down firmly, but gently. "Do you want to talk about this?"

Better now than never since she already knew this much.

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" She pushed her chair away from the table and moved it so that her attention was squarely on him. "You can't help how your heart feels, right?"

It wasn't so much his heart as the rest of his biological impulses.

"It's okay, Flynn. I think I know how you feel." She leaned forward and embraced him tightly, pulling back after a moment. "Just remember that I love you no matter what."

"Thanks." This was going much better than he expected, or than he experienced.

"I never expected you and Yuri would be dating though. You two are so different."

"We're not actually dating, though." Yuri's blunt answer had been the truth. At best they were friends, but he supposed friends actually knew things about each other and had hobbies or interests in common. They were really much closer to what Flynn was sort of reluctant to admit. They were fuck buddies.

"Oh. Well as long as you're happy, then that's what matters."

Why weren't they dating? He liked Yuri well enough, and while he really enjoyed the things they got up to in bed, he liked just as much when they were just together. Wasn't it normal to want something deeper? Did Flynn want something more from their relationship? Did Yuri? It was something that he needed to know, and he was intent on asking now.

ACT II END