#yoi fic

fandom: percy jackson and the olympians (also kind of heroes of olympus ig)

Visiting Month

fic promo: relatives of demigods visiting them at camp. pov outsider-y

fic progress: discontinued

communication: you can send me an ask or leave a comment asking about that, but i really don't think i will ever pick this fic up again.

no tag on tumblr

Percy Jackson Revealed

fandom: pjo/hoo

fic promo: percy jackson post-hoo going back to school in a world where the mist is gone and everyone has to come to terms with how incredibly traumatized & also insane his life is. pov-outsider-y, lots of mortal povs

fic progress: on indefinite hiatus, pending a possible rewrite, if I get inspired enough and manage to plan out a decent fic out of it. I don't really love what i had going on and i'm older and wiser and a better writer, too, lmao.

communication: you can send me an ask about this or leave a comment on the fic, talking about possible plot points or how the plotting of the rewrite is going. chances are it's not really going, but you can definitely ask.

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Let down my masks

fandom: yuri on ice

fic promo: trans, genderfluid viktor and their struggles with identity. specifically about how "neglecting life and love" made her disregard her feelings on her pronouns.

fic progress: completed. not my best fic, for sure. mostly an exploration of genderfluid vik (who i've never written again after this, since i'm not that interested in that hc anymore)

communication: nothing you say will make me pick this up again tbh. it would be a shame for genderfluid vitya to be written by someone who doesn't appreciate them as much anymore! that said, feel free to drop me an ask/comment talking about it in general<3

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the man behind neal caffrey series

fandom: white collar & dc crossover

fic promo: dick grayson is neal caffrey and he's not about to just dip on this new team without telling them anything! ft. all the outsider pov, the angst of knowing someone that's become your friend has been acting all along & the craziness of dick grayson to the normal observer

fic progress: fic1 & its redux are completed. I am working on a sequel, but it's gonna be long and i've been incredibly busy lately. after writing the redux, things are looking a lot better, but i dont have a timeline for you yet. all i can say is that i'm at like 10k maybe and i'm barely halfway through. i also refuse to post this fic unfinished and have you wait years for the next chapter.

communication: feel free to send me an ask/comment on ao3 with any questions or comments or whatever and i'll update you on how it's going

tag on tumblr: "dee's wcdc fic"

cut people out like tags on my clothing (someday I'll be falling without caution)

fandom: yuri on ice

fic promo: inspired by what we thought ice adolescence might be, this fic is viktor-centric and discusses pre-canon & post-canon, with some missing scenes from canon included as well. pre-canon viktor is trying to establish himself as a skater and ratify the quad flip and eventually begins to neglect life and love. post-canon viktor attempts to find a balance, invites yuuri into his life just like yuuri invited viktor into his life in japan and perhaps reconnects with some old friends (who are OCs because viktor's backstory is barren asf). non-linear narration, multiple povs, outsider pov, viktor pov. tw homophobic actions by non-canon characters!

fic progress: i continue to work on this fic and it will never be abandoned no matter how long it takes! i have my ups and downs in terms of how much i focus on writing for this, but i won't stop until it's finished. i've already planned out every single chapter, after all

communication: feel free to send me an ask/comment on ao3 with any questions or comments or whatever and i'll update you on how it's going! this fic is my baby and it's gotten very little engagement which does make me a little sad tbh.

tag on tumblr: "dee's iceado"

the Jenna Monroe Job

fandom: leverage redemption

fic promo: tie-in to s02e11 The Belly of the Beast Job. outsider pov (the ep's main character) on parker (and the leverage redemption crew generally) as jenna gets recruited for leverage international

fic progress: completed

communication: not planning a sequel or anything but you can definitely talk to me about this fic or any thoughts you may have for more!

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a crowd becomes company

fandom: yuri on ice & heated rivalry crossover

fic promo: throughout the years, viktor meets shane, shane meets yuuri, yuuri meets ilya, ilya meets viktor. in 2017, ilya and shane find out about viktuuri and a year later viktuuri find out about hollanov (who are still in the closet). chance meetings. multiple povs. 4+2 format? or 5+1 ig

fic progress: completed! might write a sequel about viktuuri talking with hollanov after certain events in long game, but that will only happen if i properly read long game or after s2 comes out.

communication: you can drop me an ask/comment and talk to me about sequel ideas if you have them (i'm open to it) or just yap about the fic as it is!

no tag on tumblr

will i ever be free? (have i crossed the line?)

fandom: heated rivalry

fic promo: ilya rozanov vs the closet. all set in boston, throughout the years up until 2018ish. outsider pov, no ilya pov. it's about how a closeted bi man might step up for queer youth in the face of queerphobia, even at the expense of his closet-cover. no crazy angst. homophobes get punched because it's ilya<3

fic progress: completed! might write a sequel about chrissy (OC) meeting shane, since someone left a comment with that awesome idea, but no definitive plans on that yet.

communication: you can send me an ask about this or leave a comment on the fic! you can talk to me about sequel ideas if you have them (i'm open to it) or just yap about the fic as it is!

no tag on tumblr

also disclaimer!!! since several of my fics have russian main characters, i wanted to say this:

fuck the russian government and everyone supporting their actions.

context:

post canon. if barcelona and the gpf happened in december then this is february, a week before the european championship

viktuuri are in saint petersburg

viktor is skating professionally while also coaching yuuri (how viktor is coaching & training at the same time is a subject of the wider fic, not of the snippet)

His very first medal had been a silver, at his first ever local competition in his hometown. His prodigious skill had been apparent even then— he'd only missed gold because the winner had been fourteen, a half a decade older than the rest of them, with sights set on a junior world title. A title Viktor would win handily four years later.

His first ever medal is now little more than a dusty memory, after two decades of earning his weight in gold: he's Russia's golden boy who won gold medals and danced on golden blades. He's the man who rose to the top of every podium. Not since his novice days has Viktor tasted anything but gold.

The thought occurs to him very suddenly.

"Where's your medal?" he asks Yuuri abruptly.

In this moment, he wants nothing more than to hold Yuuri's medal.

"In my suitcase," Yuuri responds with a jerk of his head, indicating their abandoned suitcases in the foyer.

"I want to see it!" Viktor insists, almost childlike.

Viktor watches as Yuuri retreats into the foyer, and he bounces a knee impatiently. He hears Yuuri unfastening the zipper, followed by the muffled sound of him rifling through the contents.

Yuuri re-enters the kitchen moments later, clutching the silver medal by the disc.

Viktor extends an open palm, where Yuuri places it wordlessly. Viktor studies the disc through narrowed eyes, running fingertips over it. He revels momentarily in how novel it now felt, to hold a silver medal once again. He privately notes that the engraved pattern has been changed from previous years, and the ribbon color is now a deep blue and emblazoned with the ISU logo.

Seems even the ISU has to to reinvent itself, he thinks wryly.

He glances at Yuuri, who stands awkwardly and fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. Something stirs in Viktor's memory— words hurled at him in a car park from the weekend.

"Y'know… " he says, voice deliberately soft. "You said that you were worried about your actions reflecting on me." He brandishes the medal proudly. “But look! Look what you did!"

Yuuri reacts with only a small smile.

Damn. Viktor would have to try harder.

"Do you know what this is?" he asks coyly.

"Well… its not gold," Yuuri offers.

"Its my first Grand Prix medal as a coach," Viktor says, the weight of this statement hitting him just as the words leave his mouth. "Its special."

And it really is.

He turns the medal over in his palm. It's truly lovely. Viktor cannot repress a smile as he examines it from various angles, testing the weight of it in his hands. This one feels different from any of the other medals he's earned— he's proud of this medal in a way that doesn't quite compare to his own numerous ones, all currently tucked away in his St. Petersburg home.

This silver isn't a simple recognition of athletic achievement, but a reward of the partnership that he and Yuuri share. It's evidence of Viktor's successful career pivot. And of course, of Viktor's adoration of the man before him.

"It matches your hair," Yuuri offers softly.

Viktor can't resist a smile. "Even better."

Viktor feels lucky. He inches closer to Yuuri, just another tiny push in the direction he wants. He holds the medal up by its ribbon. "Can I put it on you?" he asks, the words come out more bashful than intended.

Yuuri blinks, then nods in the affirmative. Viktor places the medal around his neck with a certain reverence.

He takes a half step back, to better admire his handiwork: Yuuri, smiling, a bit disheveled from travel, with his silver medallion gleaming on his chest.

A damn bursts in Viktor's chest: a torrent of affection, of accomplishment, and of pride.

Pride in the achievements of another.

He could nearly cry.

He braves another small step. He can't resist.

Viktor traces his fingertips down the ribbon, trailing lightly from Yuuri's neck down to the medallion resting on his chest. He locks eyes deliberately with Yuuri's.

"My medalist," he breathes, almost to himself. "You're a vision."

Second place is first loser, as the adage goes. An earlier version of Viktor might have touted this, and meant it. But he now has a hard time thinking of Yuuri's silver— and indeed, his own— as anything but a win.

He's thoroughly confused, and just a little bit miffed.

Hadn't he traveled all this way? Hadn't this been Yuuri's idea in the first place?

He groans, and grapples blindly for his phone through the sheets. His fingers close around it, and he fumbles for the camera app. Not for the first time, he locates the photos of the banquet night. He flicks through them angrily, almost to convince himself that he hadn't imagined it.

Nope, there they are, the same as ever: Yuuri dancing, Yuuri on the pole, Yuuri down to his underpants and up to his eyeballs in champagne.

Viktor pauses. The version of himself in the photo is being dipped backwards by the boy from the banquet, his head tipped back and hair askew. They wear twin gleeful expressions, both caught mid-laugh.

An agonized sound escapes Viktor.

Why had Yuuri shied away from him?

Viktor doesn't usually have any trouble attracting men. Quite the opposite, actually: his seduction techniques work too well. Everyone wants a piece of Viktor Nikiforov.

Viktor is aware of his appeal— he knows he's attractive. And wealthy. And famous. Its a tossup on any given day which of these traits is more appealing.

He's aquatinted himself with the notion that could get any man he wanted, but keeping them was another matter.

And he's certainly been left before, once the novelty of being with Viktor Nikiforov wears off. That's predictable.

But Viktor hadn't predicted his advances being rejected in the first place.

This is his first experience on this side of the deal, and it stings. Bad.

He feels the horrid sensation of tears pricking at his eyes, and groans. How very stupid.

He clicks his phone off and tosses it aside. He grapples clumsily in the sheets for Makkachin. He wraps his arms around the poodle and buries his nose in her fur.

It's fine. He swallows thickly, willing the hurt away.

Viktor knows he can come on very strong. But he's also patient. He can wait until Yuuri is ready.

And yet. The memory of Yuuri's blunt "What are you doing here?" still smarts.

He replays the encounter once again in his head: Viktor had hardly touched Yuuri, and the boy hadn't only not reciprocated: he'd recoiled, as if to put as much distance between them as possible.

And then! Viktor furiously recalls the locked bedroom door. He had knocked gently, his pleas met only with cold silence.

Yuuri had quite literally locked him out.

It doesn't get much more apparent than that. Viktor had been decidedly rejected, and it feels sickening.

If he didn't know any better, he'd guess that Yuuri wasn't into him at all.

Maybe he's is just shy? Viktor thinks desperately. But he recalls the boy from the banquet, and shakes head. Yuuri hadn't been shy at all, that night.

Viktor feels the rotten sensation of tears threatening to fall. He sniffs, and buries his screwed-up face into Makkachin's fur.

Tonight hadn't gone to plan, not even close. But Viktor's a patient man. His ten seasons in elite figure skating have granted him a tolerance for delayed gratification.

One does not become a five-time world champion without a bit of tenacity.

– –

Viktor sees Yuuri naked for the first time in the onsen.

It's rude to stare, so he doesn't. But he silently admires Yuuri nonetheless. Viktor has never seen anyone so lovely, so disarmingly sexy. And so apparently unaware of his own appeal.

He's got an delectable figure: powerful thighs, perfect for big skating jumps. A tantalizing set of pecs— Viktor imagines them resting perfectly in his hands. Smooth skin, currently tinged pink from the heat. It ripples under the musculature of his shoulders and arms. A sweet bit of squish still remains in his belly, new training regimen be damned. Yuuri is frustrated by it, Viktor thinks it's sexy. He wants to touch, badly.

Viktor doesn't stare. Not overtly.

But he does notice.

Yuuri doesn't appear to have any hangups about nudity— either his own or that of others. Viktor is privately grateful. He imagines that living in an onsen desensitizes one to the naked body.

He considers this silently for a moment, staring intently at a trickling fountain to his left. Does that mean…

Viktor blinks. He considers his own physique to be among his best physical features. But Yuuri doesn't seem to react to him in one way or the other.

Viktor's eyebrows knit together. Is Yuuri unfazed with nudity in general…?

Or not into him, specifically?

Viktor's stomach drops into his feet.

Its… entirely possible, he realizes with dull horror.

But how?

Everyone is into him: men, women, skating fans, non-skating fans, random internet people.

Everyone except, it seems, the boy from the banquet.

Frustration like he's never felt boils inside Viktor. The onsen heat may as well be radiating from his body, the steam pouring from his ears. Yuuri leaves him flummoxed, their every interaction maddeningly ambiguous. Viktor can hardly stand not knowing.

And he's still smarting from his rejected advances the day prior.

He reasons he can't be everyone's type, he supposes…

But the dancing! Yuuri had humped him in Sochi, for christsakes. In full public view!

Yuuri Katsuki, master of the mixed message, he thinks sullenly.

Viktor's aware of just how vapid this sounds, even as the words flit silently through his mind. He sinks a little further into the hot water, and it grazes the tip of his chin.

Yuuri chooses this moment to join Viktor in the onsen, wearing nothing but a placid smile. He's a polite, perfect host, and utterly unreadable.

He leaves Viktor simmering.

– –

During their first training session, Viktor tries flirting with Yuuri again.

It may be his least subtle attempt to date.

Viktor assigns Yuuri the Eros program, as he had always intended. Viktor knows he's not winning any points for subtlety.

Yuuri claims to "lack confidence", in his own words. Viktor can scarcely stifle a laugh at that. The boy at the banquet hadn't lacked anything but his clothes.

But Viktor doesn't laugh, demonstrating commendable self-control. Yuuri is absolutely capable of skating Eros, Viktor knows because he's already seen it.

He needs to push just a little further.

He cups Yuuri's face in his palm, running a suggestive thumb over his lips. They're unbelievably soft to the touch, and Viktor could sing. Yuuri doesn't flinch or back away, a small victory.

The boy from the banquet is there, he knows. Viktor just has to coax him out.

He inches further forward, leaving mere centimeters between Yuuri and himself. He runs a thumb delicately over those lips.

"No one in the whole world knows your true eros, Yuuri," he breathes.

So close.

He's the closest he's been since that night in Sochi.

Yuuri, eyes wider than he's ever seen him, looks at Viktor over the rim of his glasses. He's frozen, tense. He listens intently, Viktor's thumb still resting on those lips.

"It may be an alluring side that you yourself are unaware of."

Viktor is being absurdly bold right now.

"Can you show me what it is soon?"

Yuuri remains silent and rooted to the spot, and only now does Viktor think he may have overstepped.

An irate caterwaul from Yurio interrupts Viktor's sultry instruction, and they break apart.

Viktor simmers in silence as Yuuri begins rehearsing the choreography. At face-value, he'd have taken Yuuri's self-assessment with skeptical disbelief.

But lately, Yuuri hasn't demonstrated much confidence. Since his arrival, Viktor has seen a lot more of this shy, timid boy than the seductive one at the banquet.

Yuuri has revealed sides to himself that Viktor hadn't anticipated: he's introverted, he's self-critical, and he's notably flustered at times.

Viktor doesn't know how to reconcile the sweet, sexy, wild boy from the banquet with the withdrawn one he's gotten to know over the past several weeks.

He watches Yuuri dance down the rink through narrowed eyes.

He supposes nobody can be their party selves all the time. And hadn't Viktor made his own career by the compartmentalization of his different parts? Viktor Nikiforov: the teen wunderkind, the ice king, the lonely, solitary man? All synthesized into a single soul.

He's want to admit that it makes sense— Viktor knows he isn't the only skater who meticulously presents only what he wants others to see.

He rests a single finger on his lips as he watches Yuuri rehearse the Eros step sequence. Its rough, but they have time to polish it.

Viktor is coiled like a spring, watching Yuuri execute the Eros steps. He'd really thought they'd have slept together by now, he muses, a little embarrassed with himself.

Yuuri's trust is not easily won, to say little of his affection. For the first time, Viktor wonders uncomfortably if Yuuri's affection is out of his reach.

He grits his teeth imperceptibly.

Viktor Nikiforov is a world champion multiple times over. He doesn't give up easily.

With Yuuri, he'll be as patient at it takes.

– –

Watching Yuuri skate Eros is pure torture.

For the first time since that night in Sochi, Viktor glimpses the boy from the banquet. It's his first, fleeting sight of him since arriving in Hasetsu. Viktor's heart dances in his chest— he's still there. The boy from the banquet is real, Viktor hadn't made him up in his desperation or loneliness.

And he's still in there, somewhere.

Viktor had reached down deep and pulled the boy from the banquet to the surface, and he can now do nothing but marvel at his own stupidity: forced to bear witness to what he cannot have. The boy from the banquet is so close, only just out of reach.

Viktor aches. Its a sweet, sweet pain of his own making.

Yuuri takes the ice, and Viktor can't resist a whistle. Its decidedly unprofessional, especially in his new as his role as Yuuri's coach. Right now, he hardly cares.

The crowd reacts to Yuuri's Eros. They can tell, they see it too— Yuuri is sexy. Viktor observes with a certain satisfaction: he's confirmed, validated, he had known Yuuri's potential all along.

And only then does Viktor realize what he's done: drawn out this erotic performance, selected the perfect costume, the perfect music arrangement, dreamt up the perfect choreography. He's invested such time and effort in drawing out a side of Yuuri that nobody had seen. Nobody except Viktor, that night in Sochi.

Now everyone wants a piece of Yuuri Katsuki.

Everyone, including Viktor.

Now, as Yuuri makes Eros sizzle, Viktor can do nothing but stand helplessly aside and watch.

He marvels at his creation— this perfect creature he can't touch.

He can't have Yuuri, and he hates it.

The Eros music swells, and concludes with a violin flourish. Yuuri strikes the final pose to mad fanfare and applause.

Viktor could simply perish with overwhelming want. He could grab Yuuri by the shoulders and kiss him sloppily right there at the boards.

But he's a man of poise and class and self restraint, whistle notwithstanding.

Yuuri seems almost surprised with the approval washing over him. He's breathing heavily, and half-smiling at the applause of an adoring crowd. He deserves every bit of it.

Yuuri catches Viktor's gaze almost apologetically, as if seeking validation for a job well done. Viktor smiles in response.

He is trapped in a crucible of his own design.

– –

Viktor's hopes flutter to life when Yuuri knocks on his bedroom door in the wee hours.

He blinks, groggy, caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. He hadn't been expecting this, especially since Yuuri had soundly rejected his advances. But he's delighted, and even forgets to fret about Yuuri seeing him with disheveled hair.

Yuuri stands in the doorway, laptop in hand. He's donned casual shorts and an old t-shirt. As he advances into the room, he accidentally treads on Makkachin's tail, eliciting a yelp from the dog.

"Sorry!" he apologizes to the poodle as he climbs onto the bed, and Viktor could sing songs of delight, confusion, and thrill.

Finally.

Then Yuuri places a pair of wired headphones over his ears.

Oh.

This is about skating, Viktor realizes, and slumps.

Yuuri first competition is in a matter of months, and they still have a free program to choreograph and practice and prefect. There are still music selections and costume choices to be made, all requiring Viktor's seal of approval.

Even in the dead of night, he still has to be a coach.

At least Yuuri needs him for something.

Yuuri fumbles momentarily with the laptop, and a gentle piano melody fills Viktor's ears. It's unfamiliar, but it's gentle, sweeping, lilting. It calls to mind the shy, sensitive Yuuri more than the boy from the banquet. Frustration aside, Viktor knows immediately that its a good choice. It contrasts beautifully with the Eros, Viktor thinks.

In the two contrasting pieces, Viktor sees the two versions of Yuuri he knows: the boy from the banquet, and the shy boy from Hasetsu.

Viktor can't suppress a smile. Even half-asleep, he can knows: this is Yuuri's free program music. He's already imagining bits of choreography in his head. He could have a rough cut of the chorography and jump layout by tomorrow evening.

Viktor's face smiles, but his heart wails. Even with Yuuri on his bed in the middle of the night, he's still strictly professional.

Viktor feels optimistic about Yuuri's free skate. He's less optimistic about his diminishing chances with Yuuri.

– –

At the ocean, Yuuri finally opens up.

Viktor has long harbored suspicions that Yuuri has not interest in him, either romantic or sexual.

The dancing in Sochi had been only that: just a single fun night, quickly forgotten. Viktor's insides curdle with bitter disappointment, settling into the familiar sorrow of his solitary existence.

But no one can claim he hasn't got integrity. For Yuuri's sake, he's willing to put his disappointment aside.

He resolves to be what Yuuri needs most: a good coach.

A romantic relationship with Yuuri is out of his reach, he knows, yet a tiny spot of hope still glimmers when he lays eyes on the boy. He can't abandon it completely.

He's still holding out the smallest hope as he gazes at Yuuri with fondness and devastation.

Yuuri may never return his romantic feelings. But they clearly have something between them, otherwise Yuuri wouldn't have joined him here.

No, Yuuri still wants him around, even if only as a coach. Maybe as a friend?

Viktor can not longer tolerate the maddening ambiguity. He abandons all subtlety and asks Yuuri outright:

"Yuuri, what do you want me to be to you?"

Viktor's got no issue being blunt, he's Russian.

Yuuri demurs, silently gaze cast out into the bay.

"A coach, a friend?" Viktor prompts.

Its a fair assumption, they already are.

"A father figure?"

It's a wild stab in the dark. And from Yuuri's small flinch, a bit weird. Viktor pivots:

"A lover?"

Viktor simply can't help himself.

"Yourself," Yuuri says sincerely.

Viktor blinks.

"I want you to stay who you are," Yuuri rises to his feet.

Viktor is silent, gazing up at a Yuuri who now stands over him.

"I've always looked up to you."

Viktor's not surprised, nearly every skater has.

"And I ignored you because I didn't want you so see my shortcomings," Yuuri says. His eyes shift sideways, avoiding Viktor's.

"I'll make it up to you with my skating," he adds, a note of determination in his voice.

V smiles. "I won't let you off easy, then," He says, tone warm. "It's my way of showing my love." He extends a friendly hand.

He smiles in a way he hopes is warm as Yuuri clasps his hand.

Maybe he'll never be anything other than Yuuri's coach. This handshake may be the only time he holds Yuuri's hand in his own.

That night in Sochi had been that— just one night.

But it doesn't mean he has to stop appreciating Yuuri. It won't stop him from admiring him.

Or from loving him.

He'll adore Yuuri silently, from the boards, like the rest of the world.

– –

That backwards hug is a bit of a stupid move.

Viktor does it at the qualifier competition, right before he sends Yuuri out to perform Eros.

Its a small, non-sanctioned competition, one that Yuuri might have felt insulted to make a season debut at.

And this backwards hug is the only way Yuuri will allow Viktor to touch him.

Its not a romantic gesture, exactly, but not necessarily platonic either. Its certainly a little forward for a coach and athlete.

"Seduce me with everything you have," Viktor croons, lips grazing Yuuri's ear. He can't resist. He can never seem to resist. Yuuri is his weakness.

And there is a decent chance he may regret this later.

Viktor reckons its possible that he's reading too deeply into things. Maybe he only sees what he wants to see in Yuuri.

But that dancing in Sochi hadn't meant nothing. That recreated Stammi Vicino program hadn't meant nothing. Of that, Viktor is certain.

Viktor has always been something of an exhibitionist, and this display might as well be an exhibit of all his grandiose feelings.

The public has long been accustomed to seeing Viktor Nikiforov succeed in his professional life. He's not a five-time world champion for nothing. But if he's miscalculated here— if he's wrong about Yuuri Katsuki, the public would have the pleasure of watching Viktor Nikiforov crash and burn in his personal life.

At least he's giving them something to see.

– –

Yuuri conveys more with actions than with words.

His dancing in Sochi.

His recreated Stammi Vicino program.

At the Cup of China, Yuuri speaks to him again: this time through his quad flip.

In that attempted quad flip, Viktor sees all of the traits he's deliberately cultivated in Yuuri: admiration, grit, a willingness to risk it all. They're traits he recognizes in himself.

Yuuri's blade digs into the ice with a satisfying crunch, and utter delight explodes in Viktor's stomach. He resists the urge to punch the air and scream. He's a coach now, and there is always a camera trained on him. He stands at the boards instead: mouth agape, eyes wide, hands drawn to his face. Yuuri has left him in a state of joyous shock, of gleeful disbelief.

They hadn't even addressed it in practice. The quad flip? This late in the program, no less?

Yuuri's stamina is impressive, he knows. But not even Viktor has ever attempted a jump of such difficulty at the conclusion of a free skate.

Yuuri hadn't landed it cleanly, but its no matter to Viktor.

That quad flip had been an homage, in the same way Stammi Vicino had been. An expression of admiration, adoration, of love.

Something clicks into place: Yuuri loves him, and this is his way of showing it.

Viktor cannot tolerate the anticipation any longer.

He feels himself sprinting along the perimeter of the rink, as if his body has been overtaken by some force outside himself. He skids to a halt at the boards, and out of his periphery he sees Yuuri flying towards him.

"I did great right?" Yuuri exclaims, breathless.

The crowd roars, Viktor hears nothing.

He doesn't think. He doesn't question himself, doesn't mull over Yuuri's myriad mixed signals. He sees, at last, the synthesis of the boy from the banquet and the Yuuri Katsuki he's gotten to know over these months: the sweet, sexy dancer. The hardworking, gritty athlete. The melancholic, self-conscious man.

Viktor doesn't spare a thought for the crowd, nor the cameras. For once, he doesn't think about skating at all. He thinks only about the incredible, brave man he'd sent out on the ice. He thinks about the explosion of surprise at his quad flip. He thinks about flying into his arms after a brilliant, brilliant performance. He thinks about the warmth of those arms around him, of those soft lips on his own.

For so long he's wanted, he's needed.

Viktor also speaks through actions. In this shining moment, he can think of only one thing that could surprise him more than Yuuri's quad flip.

He encapsulates Yuuri in his arms, cupping the back of his head with a gloved hand, claiming those soft lips in his own.

They land on the ice as a pair.