C'est très malheureux que je ne pouvais pas écrire les conversations de Chris et Victor en français. Normalement, quand j'ai le français dans une fic, je l'écris, mais c'est une fic anglaise, et mes lecteurs seraient confus.

(It's very unfortunate that I couldn't write Chris and Victor's conversations in French. Normally, when I have French in a fic, I write it, but this is an English fic, and my readers would be confused.)

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about dick pics. Let alone dick pics in the year 2011.

This chapter follows the last one chronologically, but not all of them will be like that! (even though I think the next one does too)

The house that I describe for Chris isn't like the little tiny apartment we see him in in ep 11, but let's say that either a. Chris has multiple houses b. Chris has moved since 2011. Also, yes, I headcanon Chris as a rich kid. He gives off that air

Filicia "Fifi" Fleur Giacometti = Chris's cat (the same as the cat we see in ep 11; she's 11 in ep 11 and 5 here in this chapter)

Bruiser = Victor's poodle (the show says he's had poodles for a long ass time, but it doesn't say how long he's had Makkachin, so I say that Makkachin comes along after Bruiser, who's named after Elle Woods's dog in Legally Blonde)

Stéphanie "Stépha" Giacometti = Chris's older sister (~two years older!)

Anyway, I had a lot of fun with this chapter, enjoy!

Mid June, 2011

"Still ignoring calls from Yakov?" Chris asks—in French, different from the messy, drunken English the two had spoken to each other in Vancouver, as he's discovered that Victor speaks the language—something that Victor had quite offhandedly told him one day after a competition, the two of them sprawled out on a bed together, exhausted and sore in their feet. Victor's phone has been buzzing almost nonstop since his arrival in Switzerland; he's gotten to half-hoping that Fifi will knock a glass of water onto it or Bruiser will bury it in the backyard.

Victor stretches, pool water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders, his hands and wrists down his arms, his chest down his waist, his waist onto the floor. He places his wet feet onto Chris's wet lap. "I think he forgets sometimes that I'm 22 and can make my own decisions." Chris shrugs and rolls his shoulders back.

Like Chris and Victor's decision to sit on the floor wet in their swim trunks after going for a swim in Chris's neighborhood pool, Victor's decision to come live with Chris during the off-season was spontaneous and a bit strange. He had decided that spending a month or so living with Chris sounded fun. As for dropping everything and flying to Switzerland without a word to anyone else—well, Victor has always been a champion of surprise. His reasoning for this is something he doesn't like to analyze.

Chris, for his part, had picked Victor up from the airport without question.

Victor very deliberately presses his feet against Chris's crotch before pulling them away and standing up. "I'm gonna go take a shower and wash the chlorine out of my hair."

"Enjoy yourself!" Chris calls out. Victor throws his swim trunks at him.

Chris's house is a gift from his parents, and while it isn't exceedingly large, it does give off an air of affluence. The furniture is sleek and expensive, the appliances are new, and (more individual to Chris) there's a series of extravagant, ornate cat tunnels and hammocks winding around the house for Fifi, who picks and chooses which of them and which parts of them she uses. Bruiser had tried to chew one on his first day here; though, Fifi had popped him firmly on the nose the moment he had tried it, and that had been the end of it. The neighborhood pool is a very walkable distance from Chris's house, which both he and Victor are very thankful for in the nearly-summer weather.

The shower in Chris's house is another point of interest: Victor has used numerous showers in numerous places in his life, but the one in Chris's house is easily his favorite. Chris teases him ("Water pressure, of course that's why you spend so long under the warm, warm water, Victor.") for taking any possible opportunity to shower, but, really, the water pressure is amazing, and Victor didn't grow up with showers that have soothing blue lights and fifteen different nozzle settings like a certain born rich Swiss figure skater he knows. It's still strange to him when he overhears Chris on the phone with his sister talking about how, "I thought Papa only gave him 10,000 Francs," and, "He changed his mind, Stépha: he's giving him 30,000," even though he's increasingly reaching a point at which he can bat his eyes at and toss around such amounts too.

Victor feels pleasantly clean getting out of the shower; he towels himself dry, contemplating using the blow-dryer on his hair and deciding not to. He steps out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a towel around his waist, finding that Chris isn't sitting on the living room floor anymore. Victor had left his phone charging in the kitchen—attached to the living room—and finds Fifi still lounging comfortably next to it as she had been before he had gotten in the shower like she just might take up his offer on breaking it. When he unlocks it, he finds a notification from Grindr (as well as several missed messages from Yakov and various others [but mostly Yakov], but none of those really capture his attention).

dick pics bb? ;), the message reads. Victor shrugs and switches to his phone's camera, tugging down his towel a little.

Victor has taken all of two dick pics when he hears a snort. He turns to look and finds Chris leaning against the doorway in the living room, now slumped over in full laughter. "What?" Victor asks, very purposefully not pulling up his towel: pulling it up would be an admission of guilt.

"That is not how you take a dick pic," Chris says, "also, you're taking dick pics in my kitchen. That's pretty funny, Victor!"

"Is it a big deal?" Victor asks. Chris laughs again before saying no.

He walks into the kitchen and around to Victor's side, saying, "You're not holding your wrist right, and, really, a dick pic while you're in a towel?"

"You wanna take them for me?" Victor asks, bumping Chris with his hip.

"Sure," Chris says through laughter, "but I have to ask you to get your dick away from Fifi—she has very delicate sensibilities." Victor rolls his eyes.

"She lives with you, doesn't she?" He goes along with Chris to the bathroom anyway.

Chris and Victor spend the next half an hour in the bathroom together, Chris telling Victor, "Spread your legs this way," and "You've gotta be hard for this pose—it just doesn't work otherwise; give yourself a few strokes."

"Why don't you give me a few strokes?" Victor asks, shifting his hips. Chris hums and takes a few more pictures.

"Talk to me about it later, tiger," Chris says, "I take dick pics very seriously."

Chris moves around the room some more, making more suggestions and taking pictures from different angles. He slows his finger taps after a while, saying, "I think you're good on the dick pics for whoever it is you're sexting," before handing Victor's phone back.

"They're just for Grindr," Victor says. Chris nods at him.

"Respectable enough. Now, move, I have to pee."

dudeinthemood90 [3:14 PM]: dick pics bb? ;)
victor-n [3:58 PM]: (image attached) (image attached) (image attached)
dudeinthemood90 [4:05 PM]: oooooohhhh who took these pics 4 u? ;)))) would they wanna join in?
victor-n [4:06 PM]: my roommate Chris! idk I'd have to ask him
dudeinthemood90 [4:10 PM]: what kind of fucking roommate takes ur fucking dick pics for u

Bonus points headcanons: Victor will sext someone anywhere at anytime. it's a problem. (on the flipside yūri is terrible at sexting, so rip)

shout out to dudeinthemood90, whoever the fuc u are :,)