There's a long second where he thinks Victor doesn't understand what he just asked. Even when Victor looks pratically ready to vibrate off the seat, and it's as infectious as it is kind of humbling. Making it impossible not to smile, when Victor echoes that word back and reaches for his face, instead of answering.
In Yuri almost certain he's about to get kissed, again. Shoulders seizing, eyes widening, not sure if he's about to pull and curl or stay still in something like surprise, but not quite shock this time. but Victor's lips pressed a kiss to one cheek and then another, and Yuri's trying not to curl faintly in on himself, having a harder time fighting off theduck of his head and lift of his smile, cheeks staying flushed, even against the whine in his head that whether he did great -- even whether he did okay, cumulatively -- wasn't the question. The score said that.
He was asking about the only thing he could ask about. Had to ask about. Had never been planned. The one thing that wasn't on a board, and would be on everyone's mouth. He'd done Victor's flip. Possibly very badly, if his hip and the angry pain and clipped memory, was anything to go on.
He'd done it without asking, or even mentioning it, and possibly failed it, too.
(Except his score didn't reflect failure, did it?)
Except Victor is laughing and Victor is dragging Yuri into himself, almost toppingly Yuri straight into his lap. Head crushed for a second against Victor's chest and his shoulder, while he's laughing like he's heard the most brilliant joke ever. And Yuri's not certain Victor got what he asked at all. Even though he sounds like he has everything there is. Somehow. And it's really very hard to look confused and concerned, even about this, with how important it is, when Victor looks so ... happy. When it lights up everything in his face in a way Yuri has seen anything do. Any memory. Any picture.
It's mesmerizing even before he's dropping those words. Finally. Something. The fall like the first words of what could be a lecture, except Victor is still laughing. Still holding on to him. Still sounds like everything is best joke he's ever heard, that the world ever told. But Victor thinks they'll have to work on it. Which means ... they are? They will? They'll be working on it now? And Victor is okay with him doing it now, and again?
"Before Russia," Yuri blurts, and he meant it to be a question, it was a question, but it doesn't come out a question at all from him. Because he's going to Russia and the whole fact of that seems to jam into his teeth at the same moment. He's going to Russia. He's in second place. Victor isn't mad. He's one step closer to the Grand Prix Finale. They are.
Even if the way it comes out is insane, and he goes more crimson, eyes widening, again, at the realization of those words in his own ears. When that's insane. Moscow is not even a full week away, with at least one more day for the Gala, maybe two, and flights, and settling into a new hotel, and it would mean renting a rink somewhere that wasn't even arranged for currently. Possibly two in two different countries. Which is insane. It's insane. It's absolutely insane.
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Date: 2017-04-11 12:30 am (UTC)In Yuri almost certain he's about to get kissed, again. Shoulders seizing, eyes widening, not sure if he's about to pull and curl or stay still in something like surprise, but not quite shock this time. but Victor's lips pressed a kiss to one cheek and then another, and Yuri's trying not to curl faintly in on himself, having a harder time fighting off theduck of his head and lift of his smile, cheeks staying flushed, even against the whine in his head that whether he did great -- even whether he did okay, cumulatively -- wasn't the question. The score said that.
He was asking about the only thing he could ask about. Had to ask about. Had never been planned.
The one thing that wasn't on a board, and would be on everyone's mouth. He'd done Victor's flip.
Possibly very badly, if his hip and the angry pain and clipped memory, was anything to go on.
He'd done it without asking, or even mentioning it, and possibly failed it, too.
(Except his score didn't reflect failure, did it?)
Except Victor is laughing and Victor is dragging Yuri into himself, almost toppingly Yuri straight into his lap. Head crushed for a second against Victor's chest and his shoulder, while he's laughing like he's heard the most brilliant joke ever. And Yuri's not certain Victor got what he asked at all. Even though he sounds like he has everything there is. Somehow. And it's really very hard to look confused and concerned, even about this, with how important it is, when Victor looks so ... happy. When it lights up everything in his face in a way Yuri has seen anything do. Any memory. Any picture.
It's mesmerizing even before he's dropping those words. Finally. Something. The fall like the first words of what could be a lecture, except Victor is still laughing. Still holding on to him. Still sounds like everything is best joke he's ever heard, that the world ever told. But Victor thinks they'll have to work on it. Which means ... they are? They will? They'll be working on it now? And Victor is okay with him doing it now, and again?
"Before Russia," Yuri blurts, and he meant it to be a question, it was a question, but it doesn't come out a question at all from him. Because he's going to Russia and the whole fact of that seems to jam into his teeth at the same moment. He's going to Russia. He's in second place. Victor isn't mad. He's one step closer to the Grand Prix Finale. They are.
Even if the way it comes out is insane, and he goes more crimson, eyes widening, again, at the realization of those words in his own ears. When that's insane. Moscow is not even a full week away, with at least one more day for the Gala, maybe two, and flights, and settling into a new hotel, and it would mean renting a rink somewhere that wasn't even arranged for currently. Possibly two in two different countries. Which is insane. It's insane. It's absolutely insane.