Yuri giggles and squirms and Victor hasn't been drinking, but he feels drunk. What else explains how all he wants to do is keep teasing and tickling and kissing Yuri until the only thing he or Yuri remembers about this night is that neither of them could stop laughing? When he knows he can't just bowl Yuri over, like Maccachin might, because Yuri is sore and the painkillers probably haven't kicked in yet, and he should call for food.
Pulling back enough to pretend to consider Yuri's statement. "Well, it's like a silver medal katsudon, maybe."
He's teasing. Mostly. Yuri did wonderfully and he is proud and the goal is gold at the Grand Prix Final, anyway, so getting gold here or even in Moscow was never really the point, but ...
He really wants to see Yuri win gold.
(Moscow, Moscow. He'll get it there. With the quad flip in his arsenal, he'll be unstoppable, just like Victor was.)
Hmming in exaggerated thoughtfulness even as he's leaning to nudge his nose and then his mouth against Yuri's jaw, teeth scraping daintily against the shell of his ear and the tip of his nose pushing at Yuri's glasses. "Well, let's have them do their best."
It'll be fine, whatever it is. Meat, rice, vegetables: still nothing like what he would want after a competition, but tasty, anyhow, and he leans up to lean his chin on his free hand. "How does the ice feel?"
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Date: 2017-04-17 01:59 pm (UTC)Pulling back enough to pretend to consider Yuri's statement. "Well, it's like a silver medal katsudon, maybe."
He's teasing. Mostly. Yuri did wonderfully and he is proud and the goal is gold at the Grand Prix Final, anyway, so getting gold here or even in Moscow was never really the point, but ...
He really wants to see Yuri win gold.
(Moscow, Moscow. He'll get it there. With the quad flip in his arsenal, he'll be unstoppable, just like Victor was.)
Hmming in exaggerated thoughtfulness even as he's leaning to nudge his nose and then his mouth against Yuri's jaw, teeth scraping daintily against the shell of his ear and the tip of his nose pushing at Yuri's glasses. "Well, let's have them do their best."
It'll be fine, whatever it is. Meat, rice, vegetables: still nothing like what he would want after a competition, but tasty, anyhow, and he leans up to lean his chin on his free hand. "How does the ice feel?"