#phyona

Then they get barked at to pose for a photo.  

“Put your arms around each other,” calls one of thephotographers.  Christophe Giacometti,the third place winner, doesn’t hesitate, resting his hand on Yuuri’s ass.  Yuuri hardly notices.  Victor’s hand is a hot pressure on his spine,his fingers pressing in and rubbing. Yuuri feels the touch everywhere. Shaking, he places his palm high on Victor’s shoulders, almost to hisnape.

Though it’s probably all in Yuuri’s head, he feels a sparkof something between them; an acute mutual attunement that he’s never felt withanyone before.

Somehow, Yuuri survives the ceremony without fainting.  It’s a whirlwind of congratulations, photos,and autographs after that.  He doesn’thave a moment’s peace until he’s getting ready for the banquet the followingday.  His anxiety is starting to catch upto him.  Regardless of his victory, hedoesn’t like socializing in crowded rooms, but Celestino reminds him of hissponsorships.  At least Victor will bethere.

When he arrives in the banquet hall, he looks around forVictor and chugs back some champagne.  Victor’ssilver hair is hard to miss, and his smile lights up the room.  Yuuri finds he’s not the only one oglinghim.  There’s something about Victor thatcaptivates everyone in the room.

Then Victor looks over at him.  Recognition tempers his polite grin, and,though Yuuri could be imagining it, a hint of sadness softens his eyes.

He appears to excuse himself before making his way to Yuuri.  Yuuri downsanother glass of champagne before Victor walks up to him.  

“How’s the banquet treating you?” he asks, polite.  “Reveling in your victory?”

After a moment of panic, Yuuri finds his words.

“Not really,” he admits. “To be honest, I kind of hate these things.”

“You aren’t the only one.” Yuuri is taken aback.  Victoralways seems to love charming the crowd at fundraisers and banquets.

“You’ve done so many, you’re probably sick of them by now.”

“This may be my last,” Victor mumbles into his glass.  He empties it, and places it on a passingtray.  Yuuri frowns as Victor’s words hithim.

“What do you mean?”

Victor glances at him.

“I mean that I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

Yuuri gasps before he can help it.  Victor seems startled by his reaction.

“You can’t mean that,” Yuuri breathes.

“Is it so hard to believe? I’m twenty-seven.  It doesn’tthrill me like it used to.  Maybe it’stime to walk away.”

Yuuri wants to cry. The idea that Victor could be sick of skating when he still has so muchto give chills him to the core.

Yuuri opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Yakov beckonsVictor from across the room.  

“That’s my cue,” Victor says, shooting Yuuri aconspiratorial eye roll.  He turns awaybefore Yuuri can stop him.

All of Yuuri’s joy at winning flickers out.  He feels responsible for Victor’s words, eventhough he knows it’s irrational.  Hedoesn’t regret defeating him, but he still knows it’s on him to change Victor’smind.  He may be the only one who can.

Unfortunately, Yuuri can’t find the courage to approach him.  Even though they’ve spoken enough to beacquaintances by now, he still sees Victor as his hero.  Talking to him is scarier than performing hisfree skate the day before.

He convinces himself that more champagne will help.  That’s his first mistake.

The second is deciding in his booze-soaked brain thatchallenging Victor to a dance-off is a brilliant idea.  

“Victor,” he slurs, stumbling up to him.  “I have an idea.”

“Yuuri.  What’syour idea?”

“I challenge you to a dance off.”

Victor blinks slowly at him.

“A…dance off?”  Yuurinotices distantly that Victor is slurring too.  It seems he’s not the only one hitting the champagne.  A smile starts to pull at Victor’s lovelylips.  “What do I get if I win?”

“My number.”  

Victor looks just as astonished as Yuuri feels.  He can’t believe he just said that out loud.  But hey, Yuuri doesn’t care.  Yuuri is full of champagne and Victor is moregorgeous in person than he ever imagined. Life is short.

“I see.  And what doyou get if you win?”

“I get you as my coach. What do you say?”

Victor’s mouth opens and closes.  Yuuri doesn’t have the patience to wait forhis answer.  He throws his arms aroundVictor’s neck.

“Be my coach, Victor.”

And Victor, to Yuuri’s great surprise, blushes.  It’s the most adorable thing Yuuri has everseen.

***

“And that’s how you asked me to be your coach,” Victorfinishes.  Yuuri hunches over in theirbed, burying his face in his hands. Victor rubs his back.

“I’m an idiot,” Yuuri says. “I can’t believe I don’t remember this.”

“You were enchanting. You saved my career and my life, and all with your pants off.”

“I had my pants off?”

Yuuri groans, flopping onto his back.  Victor wraps around him, squeezing him close.  He nuzzlesYuuri’s cheek.

“You know much I love you without pants,” he purrs, fingers sliding down to Yuuri’s bare hip.  “I was very attracted to you.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t my gold medal?  Maybe you just wanted to get close enough to steal it.”

Victor glares at him.  His hand slips between Yuuri’s legs, making him arch off the mattress.

“I’m going to make you pay for that,” Victor says into Yuuri’s ear.

He rises up on his knees, bouncing with anticipationand stuffing chocolate in his mouth (he might eat part of a wrapper), as Victorcomes into frame.

A hot blush rises on Yuuri’s cheeks.  Victor’s hair is falling beautifully aroundhis face; his skin is flawless, his eyes stunningly blue, as always.  A tingling pressure spreads in Yuuri’schest.  It’s a sensation he’s beenfeeling more and more when he looks at Victor, and he’s not quite sure what itmeans.  

“Victor,” asks one of the reporters fromoff-screen.  “You’re only seventeen andyou just won your second World Championship. You’re totally peerless.  Is thereanyone you’ll be celebrating with tonight?”

At first, Victor wears his usualheart-shaped grin, his eyes crinkled. Then he opens his mouth to speak and no words come.  Yuuri watches, stomach twisting strangely, asthe smile slips from his face.  His eyes castdown.  Yakov jumps in for him, talkinganimatedly about his star pupil’s success, but Yuuri can’t focus on thesubtitles to understand what he’s saying. He can’t stop staring at Victor’s expression.  Something is wrong.  He knows it. He wonders if he’s the only one in the world who does.

Without looking, he grabs another pieceof chocolate and brings it to his mouth…at the exact same moment that Victor picksup his own chocolate bar and takes a bite. Yuuri freezes.  He can hardlybelieve his eyes.  Part of him knows it’sridiculous, but he can’t help but feel a connection between them.  

He knows in his adolescent, hormonal,fanboy brain that it’s fate.

***

“You remember that?” Victor asks.  He cups Yuuri’s hips where Yuuri straddleshim on their couch.  

“It always stood out to me.  Usually you were so engaged in those sorts ofinterviews.”

“But you saw right through me, didn’tyou.  And then you thought it was fatethat we were both eating chocolate at the same time.  God, you’re adorable.”  He presses a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek.

“I was thirteen,” Yuuri grumbles.  He fiddles with one of Victor’s shirtbuttons.  “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I’m glad you did.  You were right, you know.  I remember that interview.  It was the first time I realized how alone Iwas.  Outside Yakov I didn’t have anyfriends.”  He tucks a strand of hairbehind Yuuri’s ear.  “I wish I’d knownyou then.”

“No you don’t.  You would have thought I was some kind of crazedfanboy.”

“I still do.”

Yuuri flicks him on the arm.  He pouts his cutest pout, knowing exactlywhat effect it will have.  Victorcrumples.

“Please don’t make that face.  You know I’m a fanboy for you too.”

“Prove it.”

Victor’s eyes spark.

“How?”

Yuuri leans in close, taking Victor’s jawin his hand to demand his undivided attention. Victor licks his lips.

“Go get me some chocolate.”

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