Work Text:
“Yu-ri,” says Victor, standing in the doorway of Yuri’s hotel bedroom after the first day of the qualifier. Yuri freezes inside his cocoon of blankets. He is starting to develop a tic in reaction to that particular tone of voice. Yuri, let’s drink together. Yuri, let’s take a bath together. Yuri, tell me everything about you! Yuri, let’s sleep together in your bed, which is the exact same bed where you jerked off for the first time ever when you were twelve while staring at a poster of me, because that’s not weird!
Yuri has to remind himself about twelve times a day that Victor doesn’t know about the jerking off. The posters, yes, because Yuri’s sister is a heartless traitor, but not the jerking off, so calm down, Katsuki, and don’t embarrass yourself.
Every day with Victor as his coach is a complicated exercise in Yuri trying not to embarrass himself. It’s hard to do while also being completely, utterly, embarrassingly overwhelmed by the fact that Victor exists and keeps giving him compliments - ahhh! thinks Yuri’s inner twelve-year-old - along with the kind of real considered criticism that means he takes Yuri seriously as a skater - ahhhhhhhh!!! thinks Inner Yuri, at every age, honestly.
As if that wasn’t enough already, it is so hard not to embarrass himself when Victor keeps proposing ridiculous, terrible, wonderful things in that voice. Yuri loves it, but also: Yuri is mentally weak already, and if he isn’t going to let Victor down horribly in the free skate tomorrow he needs to sleep right now.
“I’m tired, Victor,” he says, in a voice he developed for ducking out of club nights with Phichit. It’s his best mature voice. Very quelling.
“Me too,” says Victor, sitting on the edge of Yuri’s bed, right in Yuri’s space, and also coincidentally weighing down Yuri’s tangle of blankets in such a way that Yuri couldn’t wiggle away from him if he tried. If he wanted to. He does want to. He does, because if Victor stays there too long Yuri will die, and also he will close his eyes and go to sleep right there in Victor’s lap, which will be really embarrassing in the morning. “I’m so tired, Yuri,” says Victor piteously. “And I can’t sleep.”
“Oh?” says Yuri. He sympathises, he really does. He knows how that feels.
“My bed’s too empty,” Victor explains.
Don’t blush, Yuri wills himself. Do not blush! It’s not what it sounds like. It’s just Victor. Victor is the sort of man who turns up naked in your family’s hot spring and proposes a business relationship. He’s just shameless, that’s all.
“…without my dog,” he hears, and realises Victor was still talking. Yuri mentally reviews the last few seconds. Victor said he can’t sleep without his dog. That makes sense, and also is nothing like Yuri’s dirty, unjustified assumptions. Stop doing that, Yuri scolds himself.
“I’m sorry,” he says out loud. Come to think of it, Victor normally does sleep with Makkachin under his arm. She puts up with it very patiently. Vicchan would never have been able to lie still that long. But then Vicchan was a very lively dog who always wanted to play, so - oh no, dangerous line of thought. Yuri needs to sleep tonight, not cry hysterically about his dog. He already did that. “We’ll go back soon,” he says, putting his hand on Victor’s. “You’ll see her then.”
“It’s so lonely without her,” Victor says. “You look comfortable.” He lies down next to Yuri. His head is on Yuri’s pillow. His face is very close. He is now holding Yuri’s hand. “Can I sleep here?”
Yuri’s tongue gets stuck in his throat so he makes some useless mumbling shocked noises which Victor obviously takes as ‘yes, Victor, of course you can sleep in my bed.’ His reaction is immediate. His brows lift, his eyes sparkle, his mouth widens into a grin. Yuri has dozens and dozens of posters of Victor Nikiforov but not a single one where he looks so - so -
- cute, something in Yuri’s head supplies helpfully.
After that Yuri can’t actually turn around and throw him out, can he?
He can, however, explain very firmly that he is going to sleep now, Victor, which means no disturbing him, no wriggling, no kicking, no stealing the covers - the list goes on. Victor nods solemnly after every instruction. Yuri can sleep like a lump once he manages to drift off but he does sometimes find it very difficult to pull himself out of his own head for long enough to get to sleep in the first place, especially during a competition. And this isn’t going to help, oh boy. But it’s Victor, so. It’s Victor with his head on Yuri’s pillow, grinning like there’s no place in the world he’d rather be.
“Anyway, so,” Yuri says at last, and then stops. Victor is still holding his hand. His face is still really close. Yuri’s run out of things to say, and the silence is getting longer - what if it’s awkward? What if Victor notices how awkward it is? Oh no, it is awkward now. Yuri must have summoned the awkwardness by thinking about it. Oh no oh no oh no -
“Your lips are chapped,” says Victor in a low voice.
Yuri blinks. He blinks again, because Victor is touching his mouth - is touching his - oh, it’s lip balm. Like before Yuri skates Eros. Of course.
Wait, not of course. “Why do you have lip balm in bed?” says Yuri.
“I always keep some in my pajama pockets, naturally!” says Victor.
It’s very strange, Yuri reflects, when you finally get to know your idol and he is wonderful and astounding and perfect and also, somehow, the weirdest person you have ever met.
“Shh,” says Victor. “You have to sleep now. It’s the free skate tomorrow, remember? What kind of a coach would I be if I didn’t make you sleep?” He nudges at Yuri until Yuri takes the hint and rolls over. Then he puts his arm around Yuri and snuggles up behind him like he’s got every right to do so. Yuri guesses he did volunteer to be Makkachin.
It feels sort of nice, though.
“Good night,” Yuri says after a moment, smiling stupidly into the darkness.
Victor closes his eyes. Yuri can feel the sweep of his lashes on the back of his neck. That’s how close together they’re lying. “Good night, Yuri,” Victor whispers.
Victor doesn’t wriggle, kick, or steal the covers. In fact, it’s the fastest Yuri’s ever fallen asleep during a compeittion. Between one breath and the next he sinks into soft warm darkness, with Victor’s arm around his waist, Victor’s knees tucked behind his, and Victor’s face smushed into the back of his neck.
Yuri expects Victor to stop crawling into bed with him once they’re back home and back to training. He’s got his dog here, after all. But in retrospect Yuri doesn’t know why he expected that, because if you give Victor an inch he takes all his clothes off and declares himself your coach, and also declares your bed his bed.
There is really not room in Yuri’s childhood bed for Yuri, all nearly-six-foot of Victor, and Victor’s dog. They all have to cuddle up close to fit, otherwise someone inevitably falls out of bed in the middle of the night, and that someone is Yuri. He wouldn’t mind, except Victor looks horrified and heartbroken if he wakes up and Yuri has curled up in a pile of blankets on the floor rather than try to argue with the tangle of lanky limbs and fluffy dog that has stolen his entire mattress.
The sensible alternative would be to sleep in the king-size bed that Victor has had installed in the main banquet room, but that would mean admitting that this sleeping arrangement is something permanent. Something they’re both doing on purpose. Something that isn’t just Victor being ridiculous and Yuri putting up with it. Yuri has been practicing his tolerant amusement face. It works because he is tolerant, and he is amused, and Victor is ridiculous, but also it means he doesn’t have to think about how good it is, having Victor wrapped around him as he falls asleep. How much he likes the way Victor comes into his space, when Yuri has never liked anyone coming into his space.
Well. It’s no use worrying about sleeping arrangements. It’s not forever, after all.
Not forever is a thought that Yuri holds close, never looking at it, never letting himself contemplate it, but using it as a safety valve. Every time his heart swells; every time he forgets who he is and who Victor is and how impossible all of this is; every time he catches himself planning or hoping or trusting too much, Yuri takes not forever and pricks his own thoughts like an overinflated balloon. It keeps him calm.
Anyway he’s pretty sure Victor would have a tantrum if Yuri threw him out of his bedroom now, and all the posters are safely hidden under Yuri’s parents’ bed - Yuri loves his mother - so it’s fine. It’s all fine.
All fine, all fine, Yuri keeps telling himself through the weeks of practice leading up to the Cup of China, and really there’s so much else to worry about that he doesn’t have time to focus on how Victor breathes soft on the back of his neck in the dark, how he twines his fingers with Yuri’s over Yuri’s stomach, and how Yuri can hear him smiling when he says good night. It’s all fine. Sometimes Makkachin chases dream-things in her sleep, and her legs move frantically, and she wakes them both up and drools all over Yuri’s face. Yuri has to bite back a smile every time he remembers it.
Then there’s the Cup of China.
Victor’s eyes are sparkling when he breaks their kiss. His hand is in Yuri’s hair. Yuri barely even hears what he says. The moment Victor’s arms went around him and he realised what was about to happen, not forever flew out of his head. Yuri’s skating made Victor so happy that Victor kissed him in front of the judges and the cameras and the world, and Yuri can’t control his own thoughts. Forever, forever, forever, he thinks, his heart beating fast, and he can’t stop grinning. Victor’s smiling too, and his eyes flick down to Yuri’s mouth and back, like he really wants to look, like he wants to kiss Yuri again. Yuri’s so happy it’s all he can do not to burst out laughing.
That doesn’t last.
They escape the press. They leave the rink. They go back to their hotel. The post-competition tiredness hits Yuri like it’s something heavy dropped from far above. All he wants is a shower and sleep.
In the shower he leans his forehead against the wall, the warm water dripping over his back, and thinks oh no, oh no.
He goes back to familiar, reliable ways to get his unruly emotions under control. It’s all fine. Calm down. Don’t make everything such a big deal, Katsuki. Not everything in the world is about your stupid, boring, pointless feelings. Focus on what matters. This is about skating.
It’s not forever.
Yuri takes deep breaths until he thinks he can look normal, and washes his hair. Go to sleep and everything will be easier in the morning, he tells himself. Except then he remembers the hurdle: that Victor will absolutely, definitely, expect to sleep in Yuri’s bed.
Well, so what? Victor always sleeps in Yuri’s bed. It’s never mattered before. It doesn’t matter now.
Yuri gets out of the shower, dries off, puts on sleeping clothes, and gets into bed, all without saying anything embarrassing. Victor doesn’t say anything either, which proves that Yuri is making a big fuss about nothing.
“Good night,” Yuri says. Oh, is Victor hesitating? Has Yuri made him uncomfortable? Inner Yuri wails. This is so stupid. He twitches the covers over. “Time to sleep, Victor, come on.”
“Okay, Yuri,” says Victor, and slides into bed behind him. He puts his arm over Yuri like always. Yuri waits for soft oblivion to come for him. He’s earned it. He’s barely slept over the last two days.
He’s hyperconscious of everywhere Victor’s touching him. Victor kissed him today. Who does that? Yuri thinks, suddenly cross. Who just kisses someone like that - no matter how shameless they are? Who just does that to someone who feels - who wants - who -
It’s no use. Yuri can’t be cross. He’s too overwhelmed by all of it. And Victor’s arm is still around him. Is Victor awake? Why hasn’t he brought it up? Does he regret kissing Yuri at all? It really was just another one of his mad impulses, probably, who knows why Victor does anything -
No. Yuri’s not being fair and he hates himself for it. Victor’s not as impulsive as he pretends to be, not as ridiculous as Yuri likes to tease him for. But then if Victor was being serious, then Yuri doesn’t understand anything at all, and he’s terrified. He’s so, so scared.
Victor’s arm around his middle tightens a little.
Oh, Yuri thinks.
Sometimes he forgets, for all the attention he pays to Victor, that Victor is also paying quite a lot of attention to him. He’s so tense it must be like spooning a lump of stone. He doesn’t know how to make himself stop. He almost wants to tell Victor to go away.
“Victor?” he says.
“Yuri,” says Victor, very close to his ear.
And Yuri’s head is swimming with questions and worries and exhaustion and the itchy-eyed leftovers of today’s crying jag and so, so much fear, but he remembers: when I open up, he meets me where I am.
He swallows.
Victor’s hand is lying loose over Yuri’s belly. Yuri reaches for it, takes a deep breath, grabs it and holds on tight for a moment. Victor immediately tangles their fingers, like he’s been waiting for just this all along. Yuri’s not going to tell him to go away. He doesn’t want that. In his heart he knows that underneath everything else, underneath all his doubts and all his uncertainties and not forever, he just wants Victor to stay.
It’s too big to say. Instead Yuri gently untangles their fingers again so he can move Victor’s hand where he wants it to go. Victor is breathing steadily in his ear, not saying anything, while Yuri carefully manipulates his hand so his long index and middle fingers are pressed against the racing pulse in Yuri’s wrist.
He doesn’t do anything else. He lets Victor’s hand go and stays as still as he can. The pads of Victor’s fingers on his wrist are surprisingly soft. Without meaning to Yuri has started breathing to the same slow rhythm as Victor’s breaths close to his ear. Yuri’s heart is beating so, so fast. He thinks he feels the moment Victor realises what the hammering pace of Yuri’s pulse is telling him. What Yuri is telling him. There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him.
“Yuri,” Victor whispers, and then Yuri yelps because a whole lot of movement is suddenly happening. The bedcovers are everywhere. Yuri’s pillow slips sideways out from under his head. He elbows Victor in the side and Victor kicks him in the shin, but Victor seems to have a vision right now, because he doesn’t even make a joke about it. After a blurred and astonishing handful of seconds Victor has manhandled Yuri into the position he wants, which is on top of him. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to Yuri that Victor is big enough and strong enough to manhandle him. He is so graceful, so beautiful, that it’s easy to underestimate the sheer athletic power of his lean body. Yuri’s heart is beating even faster now. Victor’s arms are around him and he has one ankle hooked over Yuri’s. Yuri has just long enough to wonder if this is a sex thing and start to blush horribly when Victor’s hand curls around the back of his head - just as it had in the rink, right before Victor kissed him - and Victor pushes Yuri’s face down into his chest.
“Mmph!” says Yuri into Victor’s pecs.
Victor’s hand stays curved around his head, his thumb brushing Yuri’s ear, and Yuri turns his head to the side and opens his eyes suddenly, staring blindly into the blurry dimness of the hotel room.
Right under his ear he can hear the quick thump-thump of Victor’s heartbeat. It’s very loud and it’s going very fast. It doesn’t slow while Yuri lies there, though Victor relaxes his hold on Yuri a little and his breathing goes back to the deep even breaths of before. Slow breaths, careful breaths, controlled breaths: because Victor is as overthrown as Yuri is, lying in bed together.
Yuri thinks of himself in the shower thinking oh no, coming out with his careful normal face on, and getting into bed without saying anything. After Victor kissed him today, in front of everyone. Yuri is not very good at thinking himself into other people’s shoes, but he has the double-time beat of Victor’s heart to focus him.
Oh.
It’s so nice, lying on top of Victor. He’s warm. Yuri reaches up to take hold of Victor’s hand again. Victor turns his head to the side and kisses Yuri’s fingers. Yuri giggles.
“Mmm?” says Victor.
“When you kissed me today,” Yuri says, with Victor’s heartbeat still thump-thumping right below his ear, “I was so happy, I wanted to laugh.”
“I like to hear you laugh,” says Victor.
“Then you’ll have to keep making me happy,” Yuri says, impossibly daring. He finally lifts his head from Victor’s chest. In this light all he can make out of Victor’s eyes is a faint gleam. There’s no trace of the dazzling colour Yuri knows is there. But he can tell that Victor is smiling before Yuri kisses him.
“Okay,” Victor says simply when they break apart. “I’ll do that.”
Embarrassment rushes back in upon Yuri for no reason at all. “Right,” he says, turning his face away. “Now I’m going to sleep. Finally.”
“After your poor coach tried to make you sleep all day!”
“Yes, well.”
“I’m glad,” Victor says. “I like sleeping beside you.” He’s already moving, letting Yuri rearrange them back into their normal sleeping position. They have a normal sleeping position, thinks Yuri suddenly. What was he even worried about? His brain is so stupid sometimes. Victor tucks his knees behind Yuri’s and drapes his arm over Yuri’s hip. “I’m comfortable here,” he says.
“Me too,” whispers Yuri a few moments later. He takes Victor’s hand in the dark. He doesn't care if it's embarrassing.
They fall asleep just like that.