Yuri might have been about to roll his eyes at Victor's words, but then Victor was pressing his lips to the tip of Yuri's nose and everything froze for a too long stretch of a second, that was still painfully just a single second. Like the world inverted again. Victor. Kissing his nose. His heart. Giving an unexpected burble of warmth.
He doesn't have time to think more than the word crazy, with its too many bright and dark strings that reached in every direction, before Victor was leaning over further and kissing his temple, before, just as suddenly, his face and pressing it into Yuri's neck. Kissing the skin there and rubbing his face there. Eyelashes and nose and his mouth, and Yuri doesn't know what the sound is that comes out of his mouth.
All shocked surprise, half a laugh, the kind of trying to curl away that has nothing about leaving and everything about trying to breathe, escape, but stuck under Victor's hand, the ice, and Victor's face, pressed into his skin, only able to half-cringe away, shoulder coming up so that it bumps Victor's own or chin or something, all the flood of sparkles that tickle under his skin before Victor pulls away looking far too satisfied.
When the first odd thought is that it would seem a lot less crazy if he was crazy right now, but his words don't have that.
"We're in China," like it's a reminder, a pat on Victor's head, like Yuri expression hasn't gone a little shy, while his eyes hit Victor's shoulder, and collar, even as he's striving to remember this one. It had been a bit longer, but he had practiced it too. "It's just pork and rice here. Just 猪肉盖浇饭."
If there's a pink creeping into the tops of his cheek as he tries to remember how to pronounce it, and probably gets a third of it wrong, it's just that, of course, he would have looked it up and tried to learn it, right? He'd wanted to win, right? And that was the one thing he attached to every reminder about winning, that wasn't a gold medal or each being the next step to The Grand Prix Finale.
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Date: 2017-04-16 12:21 pm (UTC)He doesn't have time to think more than the word crazy, with its too many bright and dark strings that reached in every direction, before Victor was leaning over further and kissing his temple, before, just as suddenly, his face and pressing it into Yuri's neck. Kissing the skin there and rubbing his face there. Eyelashes and nose and his mouth, and Yuri doesn't know what the sound is that comes out of his mouth.
All shocked surprise, half a laugh, the kind of trying to curl away that has nothing about leaving and everything about trying to breathe, escape, but stuck under Victor's hand, the ice, and Victor's face, pressed into his skin, only able to half-cringe away, shoulder coming up so that it bumps Victor's own or chin or something, all the flood of sparkles that tickle under his skin before Victor pulls away looking far too satisfied.
When the first odd thought is that it would seem a lot less crazy if he was crazy right now,
but his words don't have that.
"We're in China," like it's a reminder, a pat on Victor's head, like Yuri expression hasn't gone a little shy, while his eyes hit Victor's shoulder, and collar, even as he's striving to remember this one. It had been a bit longer, but he had practiced it too. "It's just pork and rice here. Just 猪肉盖浇饭."
If there's a pink creeping into the tops of his cheek as he tries to remember how to pronounce it, and probably gets a third of it wrong, it's just that, of course, he would have looked it up and tried to learn it, right? He'd wanted to win, right? And that was the one thing he attached to every reminder about winning, that wasn't a gold medal or each being the next step to The Grand Prix Finale.
Something that wasn't suddenly the whisper of,
I didn't get gold.