There's a faint concern that perhaps Yuri's reluctance to stay would translate into actually keeping as far away from Victor as possible while still being in the same bed, but it's melted away quickly when Yuri, after a brief pause, pushes forward to meet him. Arm slipping over Victor's side, and Yuri's face nuzzling into his chest and shirt, thick soft hair beneath Victor's mouth and brushing his chin, and it's perfect. Finally, for the first time in days, he feels like he fits somewhere, and that somewhere is right here, tucked against and half around Yuri, with Maccachin a warm breathing weight against his ankle.
HIs eyes are already sliding shut, and it takes him a second to realize that Yuri is saying something, sleep a sneaky cat burglar trying to pull the shades down. "Did you say something?"
Yuri hasn't said much. He rarely does, until he's put under too much pressure, and then even when he snaps and starts speaking too loudly, too quickly, too passionately, it's far less than anyone else would say. Even after being apart for so long, he hasn't said all that much tonight –– but what he has said has included some bombshells. Be my coach until I retire, without even adding a please to make it a request instead of a demand until he'd realized he should have had it in there to begin with.
(More like that first time he asked Victor to be his coach than like anything else he's said in the entire eight months since Victor's been here.)
That he missed Victor, too. That.
A reminder going off like gently ringing bells in Victor's head, and he's already smiling at the thought, even as he pulls back just enough to let Yuri speak, to try and look down towards him, a pale oval in the dark. "Say it again."
But that's confusing, isn't it? He has to clarify: "Not what you just said. What you said before. In the car."
He wants to hear it as often as he can, now that the option is out there.
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Date: 2017-09-22 03:49 am (UTC)There's a faint concern that perhaps Yuri's reluctance to stay would translate into actually keeping as far away from Victor as possible while still being in the same bed, but it's melted away quickly when Yuri, after a brief pause, pushes forward to meet him. Arm slipping over Victor's side, and Yuri's face nuzzling into his chest and shirt, thick soft hair beneath Victor's mouth and brushing his chin, and it's perfect. Finally, for the first time in days, he feels like he fits somewhere, and that somewhere is right here, tucked against and half around Yuri, with Maccachin a warm breathing weight against his ankle.
HIs eyes are already sliding shut, and it takes him a second to realize that Yuri is saying something, sleep a sneaky cat burglar trying to pull the shades down. "Did you say something?"
Yuri hasn't said much. He rarely does, until he's put under too much pressure, and then even when he snaps and starts speaking too loudly, too quickly, too passionately, it's far less than anyone else would say. Even after being apart for so long, he hasn't said all that much tonight –– but what he has said has included some bombshells. Be my coach until I retire, without even adding a please to make it a request instead of a demand until he'd realized he should have had it in there to begin with.
(More like that first time he asked Victor to be his coach than like anything else he's said in the entire eight months since Victor's been here.)
That he missed Victor, too. That.
A reminder going off like gently ringing bells in Victor's head, and he's already smiling at the thought, even as he pulls back just enough to let Yuri speak, to try and look down towards him, a pale oval in the dark. "Say it again."
But that's confusing, isn't it? He has to clarify: "Not what you just said. What you said before. In the car."
He wants to hear it as often as he can, now that the option is out there.