#cosmiclion

Yuuri insisted on some more training time after their touristy detour of the afternoon, and Victor, impressed by his work ethics although still a bit miffed about his reluctance to share information before, tagged along with Makkachin.

“I don’t see why you need me around for this,” he teases from his spot on the same bench they’d sat on earlier in the day, playing fetch with Makka while Yuuri reached and kept pushing past a frankly extraordinary number of lunges, “when you didn’t even want to chat earlier.”

Yuuri blushes redder than the exercise had already given him reason to, but he still frowns and shoots Victor an almost fondly annoyed look.

“I don’t see how discussing my love life is supposed to help me win gold at the GPF,” he sasses.

“Yuuri, I told you already, I need to get to know you to be your coach! And I’ll admit I was especially curious about this topic because, well… even Google didn’t help on that front.”

Yuuri’s balance falters at that, and the only reason he keeps upright is Makka’s instant reaction to help him steady his weight. He blanches, too, and doesn’t fight Victor’s tug on his arm that leads to them sitting together on the bench.

“What did you just say?” Yuuri blurts out before Victor can ask him what’s wrong. “Why would you Google me?”

Considering Yuuri’s reaction right now and how panicked he got during their earlier conversation —Victor’s attempt at one, anyway— Victor ventures a guess that because you rocked my world that night we danced in Sochi and I wanted to know if I had competition in that field is probably not the right thing to say. Particularly when that’s not the only reason he looked Yuuri up on so many apps after that banquet his name became Victor’s first typing suggestion at all times, and also not when it might lead to Victor having to reveal how bitter he got when he figured Yuuri must have had someone special at home and only used him for fun that night before ghosting him as completely as he did.

What’s puzzling is that Yuuri’s obviously single now, after Victor eliminated even the unlikely option of his ballet instructor, so unless he’s got some secret long distance relationship that he just lied to his new coach about… why on Earth is he still so skittish around him? Why does he seem frightened to get physically close to Victor, when he was all over him during that memorable banquet? And how did he look equally freaked out when Victor tried to open up about his own life before, while still being the same man who point blank asked for his mentorship last year and then again through the irresistible call of Victor’s own choreography on the ice —embellished by Yuuri’s unique musicality that Victor’s grown so familiar with after months of devouring hours of footage of his skating— a mere few weeks ago?

This is not Victor’s field of expertise, not when he’s devoted his entire soul to his sport and sacrificed his personal life for it, but he does know this is not how things usually pan out in the romantic comedies he watches whenever the loneliness gets to be too much.

Did he read it all wrong? Did he make it up from the beginning, that spark in Yuuri's eyes in Sochi when they danced, that joy in his uninhibited giggles when Victor complimented him, that irresistible pull that he was so sure went both ways?

God, Yakov was right, Victor is truly out of his depth here. He's exploring uncharted territories, fumbling in a dark and mysterious land that feels so different from the blinding bright and golden existence he’s been restricted to since his career took off.

For the first time in years, Victor is easily confused, frequently conflicted and more than a little bit scared.

And he’s loving it, he realizes as he watches some color return to Yuuri’s face while a worried Makkachin comforts him by way of slobbering all over his hands.

So, Victor won’t pry too much, won’t risk ruining their building relationship when he can’t find it in himself to resent this sweet, shy and reserved man for the months of silence he inflicted upon him anyway. Whatever reasons Yuuri has to be so different now from the man who stole his heart in Sochi, or to pretend they’ve never interacted before Victor made a naked fool of himself in his parents’ onsen, he’ll just hope and try to gain enough of his trust to one day be privy to them.

“Because you’re very intriguing, Yuuri,” he eventually settles on, proud of this agreeable compromise that shouldn’t spook his student while still flirting with the truth of what he feels for him.

Yuuri and his immediate disdainful scoff, however, apparently don’t care for the precarious line Victor’s trying to walk.

“No, I’m not.”

Huh.

“Secretive, then?” Victor tries, hoping he sounds more playful than desperate.

“I’m… private, I guess?” Yuuri corrects with an uncertain frown.

And okay, Victor can work with that, he thinks when Makka finally remembers who her dad is and turns to demand scratches from him.

“Right, private. And therefore, intriguing,” he repeats with a grin.

He won’t insist too much, sure, but he’ll be damned if he lets his surprisingly stubborn student win this one over him —he’s a coach now, for heaven’s sake! Yuuri will undoubtedly show him some respect and give him this, right?

“No offense, Victor,” Yuuri starts with a roll of his eyes that promises exactly the opposite, “but I don’t see how someone like me could ever intrigue someone like you.”

He stands up fluidly and dusts off his pants in the next second, while Victor stays put, mouth agape and unseeing eyes blinking rapidly.

He is… stunned.

Speechless.

Flattergranted, or whatever that complicated English word Victor can’t recall right now actually is.

Because, as Yuri might phrase it if he was here, what in the world of fucks?

What the hell does that mean, someone like Victor? What’s Victor like? One of the best figure skaters in the world who —modesty’s never been his strong suit, not even in the privacy of his own mind— also happens to be gorgeous, and dances as wonderfully on land as he does on the ice?

How does that not sound exactly like Yuuri himself?

How on Earth does Yuuri make it sound impossible for the kilometers of common ground between them to justify even a fraction of Victor’s undeniable interest —he moved halfway across the globe for this, didn’t he?!— in him?

“Come on, Coach,” Yuuri calls with smirk and a tilt of his head that’s immediately mimicked by Makka, the two of them shooting him an almost identical expectant look as well. “How about we race home, so you can taunt me with all the katsudon I’m not allowed to eat?”

Victor doesn’t know what to blame for the emotional whiplash he experiences right then.

How quickly Yuuri switches from the unsure and quiet student one second, to the eager, self-assured demeanor he’s projecting now? How oddly reverent and polite he can be a times, before teasing him as clearly as he did with that nickname just then?

He does know, at least, that would be silly to put it on the softness in his tone when he called the onsen home. Yuuri grew up here after all, and he can’t possibly know that that’s what his childhood house is already starting to feel like for Victor after the past few days —and more easily than his St Petersburg apartment has ever felt, even after years of living in it.

“Well, I am getting hungry,” Victor sasses back as he stands, not entirely lying.

Yuuri nods with an adorable chuckle that steals a couple of willing heartbeats from Victor. Determination is quick to overtake his features when they take their marks on the ground though, a curious Makkachin worming her way between them.

Victor is really out of his depth, here, he tells himself as Yuuri’s mouth stretches over a cautious ready, an almost playful set, and a focused go!