Chapter Text
7 hours and 37 minutes
It was uncomfortable.
And that was a mild assessment of the situation. Yuuri found himself staring out across the aisle, pretending he couldn’t feel Victor’s gaze burning the side of his face. It was all so pointless. What good would come of telling Victor his reasons for withdrawing? Nothing. No good would come of it. He could either endure eight hours of Victor’s confusion or eight hours of excruciating awkwardness when Victor realised how he felt. It wasn’t a difficult decision.
The seatbelt sign switched off with a faint ping and gradually the sound of voices and conversation grew, people shifting and stretching in their seats, stepping into the aisles and clicking open the overhead lockers. Yuuri tried to resist the temptation to slide his gaze sideways, subtly glance at Victor, map the way his hair fell over his forehead and brushed the bridge of his nose, almost a little too long and a little too messy compared to his usual cut.
It was an afterthought to realise he had not in fact resisted temptation and had been staring at Victor for a solid few seconds. Probably with an embarrassing amount of longing on his face. Victor was slouched in his seat, elbows resting on both arm-rests and his phone held up. One leg was kicked out under the seat in front to complete the image of effortless, graceful boredom.
‘You’re looking at me,’ Victor noted. He swiped upwards on his phone with unnecessary force.
Yuuri couldn’t help tracing his eyes over Victor’s features, over the sharp line of his nose and the unhappy press of his lips. He looked away regretfully.
‘Didn’t say you had to stop,’ Victor added with a certain sharpness, eyes still fixed on his phone screen.
There wasn’t any reply Yuuri could give. Of course he didn’t want to look away, who would? But it was easier to stare out into the aisle. The plain blue carpet of the aisle floor didn’t leave him tangled in guilt and longing. He pretended not to hear the short, frustrated snort from beside him. What he really wanted right now was a drink. Maybe four. And what he didn’t want was to see a familiar pair of leopard print sneakers approaching down the aisle. There was only one person that thought leopard print was the final word in cool. Yuuri lifted his eyes and closed his mouth, cutting himself off with a heavy sigh. Yuri Plisetsky. Just what he needed, more Russian figure skaters crowding around his seat.
Yuuri raised his hand slightly in greeting and was completely ignored. Yuri stopped by Yuuri’s seat and waited in silence. No one said anything.
Yuri looked between them. ‘Okay, so you told him. This looks awkward as shit. You’re right, probably should have waited.’ That last part was directed at Yuuri. ‘Dick move though.’ That went to Victor.
Victor grabbed the seat in front and wrenched himself forward. ‘What?’ He stared at Yuri, then back to Yuuri. ‘What was a dick move? So I did do something? I said something?’ He looked back at Yuri. ‘Will someone just tell me what I did?’
‘No, I didn’t tell him,’ Yuuri said flatly.
It took two seconds of silent staring at their faces for Yuri to decide this was not a discussion he wished to be part of. He turned abruptly and left.
‘Excuse me,’ Victor muttered and hastily pulled himself out of the row.
The last Yuuri saw was Yuri hurrying up the aisle, Victor close behind and accelerating fast.
7 hours and 31 minutes to go
Between Victor disappearing and returning with a frustrated expression, Yuuri had six glorious minutes to imagine every possible way Yuri could be spilling his secret. Right now he was probably telling Victor everything. Yuuri let out a slow, deliberate breath and tried not to squeeze his phone between his hands. His sweaty hands. Victor was probably laughing, he’d be angry, probably repulsed, feeling pity for the terrible skater with a ridiculous crush, trying to swap his seat away from -
‘Nothing,’ Victor said as he dropped down into his seat. ‘Whatever your reasons are, Yuri has kept them to himself.’
Seeing the confusion and hurt on Victor’s face, Yuuri couldn’t quite bring himself to feel relieved. He released his death grip on his phone and instead felt guilty.
7 hours and 29 minutes
‘Vodka, please,’ Victor said quite firmly.
Yuuri looked at the firm press of his lips. Seven and a half hours to go. He looked back at the flight attendant. ‘Yes. Vodka, please.’
7 hours and 02 minutes
Legs stretched out under the seat in front and slouched down, Victor stared down at his feet. His expression reminded Yuuri of the time Mari and Minako had commandeered the tv to watch Pride and Prejudice and Mr Darcy brooded in the corner of the room for six straight hours.
‘So,’ Victor said finally, speaking to his feet, ‘are we going to speak at all during this flight?’
‘No,’ Yuuri said with the bluntness of two little vodka bottles.
‘Is anyone going to tell me why, or shall I just assume this is irreparably my fault?’ And evidently vodka was bringing out a flair for the dramatic in Victor.
Running his hands through his hair, Yuuri noted, a little distantly, that his skin felt unpleasantly numb. Probably best not to have any more alcohol. He’d stop. After one more. ‘I could have avoided this.’
‘Avoided what?’
Yuuri remained silent and Victor thumped his head back against the seat in frustration.
‘My mysterious seatmate,’ Victor said with a biting, sarcastic sweep to his voice, ‘humour me. Tell me what I could have done to earn this reaction.’
Yuuri flagged down an attendant. He was going to need that final drink sooner than later. ‘Do you really need to have this conversation with someone you’ve known for less than a day?’ Victor fell silent. Yuuri finished speaking to the flight attendant and turned around to Victor. ‘Do you want a drink?’
‘Make it five,’ Victor said wearily.
‘He’ll have one too,’ Yuuri confirmed to the flight attendant. His arms felt heavy and harder to control than usual. He rolled his head sideways to stare at Victor. ‘Most people would chalk this whole thing up to a weird plane encounter, right? Why do you care?’
Victor’s small, bitter smile was not what he expected. ‘Too much? I came on too strong?’ He groaned faintly and rubbed his hand over his face, slumping further in the seat. Letting his hand drop, he stared at the floor with a strange self-deprecating expression. ‘Is that it? Were you hinting for me to back off?’
‘No,’ Yuuri said heavily, ‘no, I wasn’t.’
Victor accepted another mini vodka bottle from the flight attendant, immediately taking a long drink while looking at Yuuri with a skeptical raised eyebrow. Why did he have to be so attractive? Yuuri stared down at his drink and then downed half in one go. His head buzzed.
‘Vi-’
‘And then I sat next to you.’ Victor wiped his hand over his mouth. ‘God, you’re right, way too much. You should have j-’
‘I know who -’
‘No,’ Victor said firmly. He closed his eyes and shoved his hands through his hair, tipping his head backwards. Yuuri stared longingly at his collarbone. ‘I’m going to be honest. Can I be honest?’
Well it was about time one of them was. His confession hovering on the tip of his tongue, Yuuri just nodded wordlessly.
‘I’m confused, Yuuri.’ Victor let his hands drop, perhaps a shade dramatically, but there was a strange cast to his face. His left hand fell palm-up on their shared arm rest and Yuuri found himself fighting the urge to just reach out and take it. ‘We had such fun the last few hours, didn’t we? Then something changed. You tell me my attention wasn’t unwelcome and it wasn’t too much?’ He caught Yuuri’s eye as if to check, his expression a little anxious. It was a strange expression on him. ‘And you’re right that I shouldn’t care about a stranger met once on a flight. But-’ his expression twisted, a little regretful, a little bitter perhaps, ‘for reasons of my own,’ he echoed Yuuri’s words back to him pointedly, ‘that is how I feel, and I care about a stranger’s opinion of me. Tell me to drop this and I’ll watch Meg Ryan romantic-comedies for the rest of the flight and leave you alone, otherwise…’ he trailed off hopefully.
Feeling entirely incapable of answering that directly, Yuuri deflected. ‘What reasons do you have for caring about my opinion of you?’
Victor raised his eyebrow again and snorted faintly. ‘Ah, you have not drunk nearly enough vodka to unlock that question.’
Alcohol buzzed through his body and Yuuri gazed at Victor’s unfairly gorgeous face. ‘Tell me, and I’ll tell you something.’
Some of the familiar teasing humour came back into Victor’s eyes. ‘A game?’
‘With alcohol.’ Yuuri said firmly. Please.
‘If you’re trying to drink me into honesty, I should warn you I am Russian.’
‘And I am a lightweight, so you’ll have no trouble. I’m going first.’
Victor inclined his head.
‘Why do you care what I think of you?’
Victor laughed and shook his head. ‘Too big a question. You’re going to have to build up to that, Yuuri.’ Victor with alcohol in his system seemed to enjoy saying Yuuri’s name more frequently, lingering and drawing out the vowel sounds. ‘You forfeit your question. My turn. Would you have flirted with me if I hadn’t started?’
‘Please, I’m quiet and have anxiety. But,’ Yuuri continued because vodka, ‘I’d have wanted to. Why did you flirt with me?’
Victor shrugged easily. ‘Because you’re hot.’
The momentary silence shattered as they both laughed, Yuuri’s laugh an embarrassed, incredulous sound and Victor’s just open honesty.
‘Do you think I’m hot?’
Face turning red, Yuuri muttered, ‘You know the answer to that question already. Have you flirted with someone on a flight before?’
‘No. Did I do something to make you feel awkward this flight?’
A different tone crept between their words, more serious beneath the smiles. ‘No. Will you remember me when this is over and you’ve gone home?’
Victor’s fingers touched the back of Yuuri’s hand, almost light enough to be unnoticeable. ‘Yes. Will you think of me?’
Yuuri flexed his fingers and slid them up between Victor’s, his breath catching as Victor squeezed tightly over the back of his hand. ‘Of course.’
‘Of course?’
‘You’re hot,’ Yuuri echoed Victor’s words and they grinned, but their smiles faded just a little too fast.
‘Ask me why I care,’ Victor said quietly.
‘Why do you care, Victor?’
Victor didn’t lift his eyes from their joined hands and Yuuri gazed down at the fan of his white-blonde eyelashes. ‘Very few people know me outside of skating. I spend most of my time training at the rink by myself, with my coach, with a couple of other skaters, and there isn’t much time for anything else. When I meet people it’s usually through skating and everyone already knows who I am. Everyone already has an idea of what I will be like and the sort of person I am.’
Guilt curled in Yuuri’s chest as Victor continued.
‘You were the first person I’ve spoken to for a while that didn’t have any expectations. You weren’t comparing me to anything you thought I should be. And you seemed to like me, until you didn’t. And I suppose,’ Victor absently played with their hands, rubbing his thumb back and forth, ‘I’m afraid that I’m - too much? Too annoying - maybe I’m not that likable?’
He glanced up at Yuuri’s face and broke into a rueful smile. He muttered something in Russian and sat up straighter, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. ‘That was enough drama for the flight,’ he forced his voice louder. ‘More vodka, I think.’
‘Victor,’ Yuuri couldn’t keep the heavy regret from his voice.
Victor downed the rest of his drink. His expression had a forced brightness to it, smile in place, but Yuuri knew what he was going to ask now. He tugged his hand free, it didn’t feel right doing this with his hand in Victor’s. He didn’t miss the sadness and acknowledgement that flashed across Victor’s face. This wasn’t fair.
‘Well, that answers m-’
‘No,’ Yuuri cut him off. ‘I think you’re extremely likable. It’s just,’ he squeezed his hands over his thighs, ‘I don’t think you’ll like me that much now.’ His heart was in his throat. ‘See, I knew who you were, five time champion men’s figure skater.’
Shock set heavily over Victor’s face. Never one to hide his emotions, in this moment it was a little heartbreaking.
‘I didn’t want to make it awkward,’ Yuuri continued quietly. ‘I thought you’d ignore me.’
He paused for Victor to say something, he didn’t.
‘I didn’t think you’d keep talking to me. When you did it was - it was too late to say anything.’
‘So,’ Victor said eventually. It was a very final sounding so. ‘You knew who I was?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you lied.’
Yuuri’s heart sank. He told himself it was the reaction he expected, he knew this was coming. ‘Yes.’
‘You sat there listening as I told you how I felt, about skating, about myself and and you said nothing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’ It burst out, angry and loud. A few heads turned curiously in their direction and Yuuri sank in his seat. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Victor anymore. He felt capable of nothing more than whispering yes. ‘Are you a fan?’
Yuuri inclined his head in a half nod. He kept his face down. He heard Victor’s frustrated groan.
‘You knew I would never have told you anything if I had known, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So everything I said - I thought-’ Victor’s face twisted. ‘When I thought-’ again he broke off with a bitter curl to his mouth.
Ears ringing, Yuuri stared fixedly at the screen in front and swallowed thickly. He wanted to open his mouth and explain - this wasn’t it, it wasn’t what he thought - but his throat was clenched too tight. Beside him Victor was still and silent.
‘Fine,’ Victor continued finally, his voice was too quiet and flat. ‘Post, write, blog what you will online - did you take pictures of me too? - I don’t care.’
A couple wandered down the aisle past Yuuri, footsteps muffled on the carpet and voices quiet for each other. He caught the grins they flashed each other between words and the embarrassed smile on the man’s face as he dipped his head, the woman glancing back at him with amused fondness.
‘That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it?’ Victor kept talking, he wished he’d stop, he wished it was just over. The man reached forward gently to the girl and their finger tips brushed, a quiet, subtle touch as they passed Yuuri’s seat. ‘You only spoke to me because of my skating?’
Yuuri shook his head gently, drawing a steadying breath before he could speak. ‘No,’ he managed to say clearly.
‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’ Victor grew louder and sharper, words falling out faster. ‘You lied! Why would you do that? That’s why you didn’t want me sitting here, you felt guilty, didn’t you? You know, I think you’re right. I think I will forget you very quickly.’
Yuuri closed his eyes tightly. A hot tear slid down his cheek.
‘It wasn’t that great a kiss. Any of them, really. You did fine as a distraction. Tell me, what did you hope to get out of this? Did you think it would mea-’
He bent his head as his face crumpled. For a moment he sat there, eyes squeezed shut and head hanging as he cried. His shoulders shook and he covered his face with one hand, choking back as he tried to stay silent. It hurt. It was ridiculous how much it hurt.
Victor had stopped speaking. Of course he had been a distraction. Of course he was forgettable, he knew this.
It was just -
‘Yuuri-’
‘I know,’ Yuuri choked angrily, surprising himself. ‘Y-you’ve ma-’ his voice shook and broke, ‘-made your point clear. I’m stu-’ he cracked on the last word, breaking to a whisper, ‘-stupid.’
And he felt it. Utterly, entirely stupid. His chest ached with it and the rejection he told himself he had expected. Of course Victor was angry, it made sense. He knew this mess of a meeting with Victor wasn’t worth what he was feeling, rationally he knew that, it was just no one seemed to have told his heart.
‘You’re upset.’
Yuuri kept his face buried in his hand, glasses dangling from his fingers. He sensed Victor shifting and then stilling in the seat beside him. It was as though a heavy blanket had been laid over his body, everything felt slow and distant, the skin of his face beneath his palm was at once both wet and numb, his hearing buzzing. Another warm tear trickled slowly down the backs of his fingers. Perhaps he wouldn’t have reacted like this if he hadn’t had something, many to drink, but perhaps it would have felt even worse. He wanted to think that the harshness and quick anger in Victor was fuelled by the three, four, something vodkas he had so far had, however he doubted it.
‘Of course I’m upset,’ Yuuri said finally with more honesty than intended. ‘I can hold your hand, touch your face,’ his voice got quieter as his cheeks turned red, ‘kiss you. And you don’t care at all.’
He rather felt Victor’s silence said everything. Face burning, Yuuri dug his fingertips into his forehead.
‘You said I-’ he couldn’t bring himself to repeat what Victor had said about kissing him.
Still the silence. It was true then.
‘I - I haven’t really kissed many people - anyone. Before you. Sorry.’ God, someone stop him talking. He shoved himself to his feet, fumbling hurriedly with his glasses and grabbing for his bag. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and looked anywhere but at Victor.
6 hours and 41 minutes
Yuuri sat on the toilet lid and cried, big, pointless tears that splatted down his cheeks and puddled messily around his nose.
6 hours and 11 minutes
Things went downhill from there. Surprisingly there were actually further depths to which this disaster could sink. It was amazing what could be accomplished with mini pocket-sized vodka and a generous serving of wine and crippling misery.
Dinner came and there was no teasing, no laughter as Victor peered over his shoulder, nothing, just a plain foil wrapped meal sitting on the table. Eating was the last thing Yuuri felt like doing. He tucked his hands under his arms and leaned his cheek against the headrest, staring blankly out into the cabin. The plane droned in the background and matched the empty buzz he felt inside his head.
Victor reached over and pulled the foil off Yuuri’s tray in one quick rip. ‘Eat your dinner,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m really not worth it.’
Yuuri glanced down at bland vegetables and felt, if possible, even less interested than before. Where earlier he had been an equal with Victor, he now felt the difference in the way he spoke and acted. He was no longer Yuuri, stranger on a plane, he was Yuuri, a Fan. An immature, idiot fan. He reached out and quite firmly placed the foil back on top of the tray. One of the trays. He placed it firmly somewhere in the vicinity of a tray. It was surprisingly difficult moving arms that felt like they’d been weighted to his side.
‘Wish I’d never met you,’ Yuuri confessed with easy bluntness.
‘You didn’t hit on me, I know that came from me.’ Victor’s voice had lost some of its harsh edge. ‘Perhaps it was an awkward situation from the start.’
Victor thought he was an obsessed lying stalker, awkward was an understatement. Only when Victor blinked did Yuuri realise he’d said that out loud. Definitely another drink. Yuuri firmly pressed the call button. If he could spend the rest of this flight unconscious that would be fantastic.
‘That isn’t how it is?’ For a moment Victor’s voice was achingly sad. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.’
‘You think I wanted this?’ Yuuri demanded incredulously. ‘You think I wasn’t wishing you’d just walk past me? That you’d sit somewhere else? You’d sleep the whole flight, you’d leave at Dubai? I am awkward. I am anxious. You think I’m not painfully aware how terrible a flirt I’d make? I am well aware I would be a poor distraction and I am so stupid because because I thought, just for a moment, that I was something someone would want. Thank you for confirming how forgettable I am!’ Yuuri finished his furiously whispered speech with a sharp, shuddering breath. He wiped his hand roughly under his nose.
Victor’s still expression and reddening cheeks just made anger burn even hotter in Yuuri’s chest. Victor cleared his throat, once, twice. He looked down and swallowed. ‘Unfortunately,’ he said far too quietly, ‘you are not particularly forgettable.’
Yuuri barked an ugly laugh. ‘Right. Of course. That’s exactly what you said before.’
‘I was angry,’ Victor said simply.
‘No you were being honest. You think this is the first time you’ve seen me?’ Yuuri was setting himself on fire along with Victor and he didn’t care. ‘Twice.’ A hot tear splashed down Yuuri’s cheek and he swiped it away roughly. ‘You’ve seen me twice before. You watched me, you met me, you spoke to me and you forgot me, so you can save your lines and your pointless lies for someone else.’
‘Do you have any idea how many people I meet? How many pictures I take and autographs I sign?’
‘You sound so arrog-’
‘Don’t twist my words.’
‘Don’t need to,’ Yuuri said bitterly. He fumbled impatiently for a tissue, jamming his hand in his pocket and swaying with the effort of holding his head up. If he was prepared to be honest with himself, which he wasn’t, he might have acknowledged that a large portion of his frustration was directed inwards. He knew it was nothing, it was a casual flirtation, he knew Victor would be angry if he revealed as a fan, he knew all of these things and still he had let it happen. It would seem however that there was a difference between knowing he was a meaningless fling and actually feeling it. Shame coiled heavy in his chest and prickled behind his eyes, kept distant and just out of reach by the buzz of alcohol through his body.
Face red, Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and dug in his other pocket for the tissues. No tissue. Just Victor’s extremely unwelcome presence in the seat over. Grabbing the armrest, he heaved himself to his feet. He barely registered Victor’s movements, a hand near his elbow -
‘Yuu-’
‘Don’t-’ the sudden anger in his voice surprised them both, Yuuri lowered his hand and exhaled, ‘-touch me.’
The clunk of the overhead bin was at once both a distant and loud sound, Yuuri didn’t bother to wonder why that might be. He braced one hand on the edge of the locker and yanked his bag down. It smacked down onto the ground at his feet. He stared down at it in silence.
‘I’m-’ He could feel the slur in his words. Touching his fingers to his face, Yuuri vaguely noted they felt numb.
?
He was in the toilet again. Sat on the toilet lid. Yuuri swayed sideways and fixed his gaze down - toilet lid. He could see he was sat on that. He gave it a careful pat to make sure.
He was eventually going to have to come out of the toilet, he accepted that on a vague level. The only real problem was he couldn’t be entirely sure exactly, precisely how long he’d already been in there. Here. He sighed and slumped backwards. It felt like he leaned backwards for a long time before his back eventually hit the wall and he sank limply downwards.
Had he spoken to Victor recently? After standing up? Maybe he had sat back down. He accepted that that would have been a bad thing to do but he couldn’t make himself feel the emotions attached to that thought.
Victor was gorgeous. He liked Victor. It hurt that Victor didn’t like him. Yuuri reached out and ran his fingertip slowly along the wall, staring unblinkingly at it. He let his finger drop to the edge of the basin, hanging there by the tip. He’d messed this up. Victor hadn’t remembered him, he should have just said so.
But that was embarrassing. Nicer to be interesting and attractive. Real him wasn’t those things. Yuuri slowly pulled his finger from the sink and dropped his arm to his side. Shouldn’t have said anything.
The plane engines hummed in a low, constant vibration. Sat under the bright yellow light, Yuuri felt his eyes drifting closed.
?????
With a sharp intake of breath Yuuri opened his eyes. His heart pounded in his ears. Toilet.
He was on his feet. He staggered sideways and slammed his shoulder into the door. It didn’t hurt. Probably should have. The room spun dangerously but he remained on his feet, eyes half closed and head hanging. The plane shuddered and Yuuri braced his palms on the walls.
Out the door.
Taking careful, small steps, Yuuri slowly picked his way down the aisle. His eyes were probably too wide. It was the best he could do. That or half-shut. He was too aware of his face. Was his expression normal? Nothing felt right. At least the cabin lights were dimmed. Even if it did make it hard to see in the dizzying blur of dark shapes.
Also, where were his glasses?
Patting over his face and head for his glasses, Yuuri heaved himself sideways into his seat. Fell. Victor wasn’t there. That was good. He hauled his legs up onto Victor’s seat. Ridiculous attractive Victor. Yuuri shuffled his body down across the two seats and grabbed for a blanket. He’d sleep here until they landed.
Probably 5 hours
Yuuri woke up at some indeterminate point. Not properly awake, rather the heavy, distant sense of awareness that comes on the edge of sleep. The plane was a constant drone drowning out his senses and he remained still in his seat, curled up warm and heavy beneath the blanket. Something had woken him up. He was dimly conscious of someone standing beside him in the aisle.
Half asleep and with his glasses off, Victor’s face was blurred at the edges. Yuuri stirred faintly and blinked once.
‘Victor?’ He mumbled, mouth dry and voice hoarse.
Maybe he imagined it, maybe he was still dreaming, but it seemed like Victor looked sad. There could have been the faint pressure of a hand on his shoulder, just for a moment.
But he was probably dreaming.
2 hours and 39 minutes
His mouth was dry. Yuuri swallowed around the sandpaper in his throat and cracked open his eyes, staring up at the blurred ceiling. The dark seatbelt sign spun gently and shifted out of focus. He was… Blinking and swallowing around a dizzying wave of nausea, Yuuri lifted his head. He was lying down on his back. With his legs draped half over Victor’s lap.
‘How are you feeling?’ Victor was staring down at him, his expression unreadable.
‘Awful,’ Yuuri said hoarsely. He didn’t move.
Victor lifted his hand from Yuuri’s knee and pulled a pair of glasses from his collar. ‘Yours,’ he handed them back, their fingers brushing as Yuuri silently accepted them. ‘You were really quite insistent that I take them.’
‘So I - I spoke to you.’
‘You had a lot to say.’
Expecting anger, expecting derision in Victor’s face, and with defiance building in his throat, Yuuri lifted his eyes to Victor’s. In the dim cabin light, Victor held his gaze in silence.
‘About?’ Oh, did he even want to know?’
‘My abilities as a skater, my failings as a human being.’
Victor’s face was set strangely, his pressed and his eyes a little too bright. Bristling with humiliation, hurt, and uncertainty, Yuuri glared back.
‘Also,’ Victor’s voice had an uneven break, ‘some insight into your current feelings towards myself.’
Obviously Yuuri had sobered up too soon. He was now going to have to lock himself back in the toilet, where he would remain until landing. In the grips of utter horror, Yuuri felt himself rising to his feet and turning instinctively towards the toilets.
‘Yuuri. Please,’ the words caught oddly as Victor spoke, ‘wi-’ he cut himself off abruptly and looked down. His hand touched Yuuri’s seat in a silent request.
Unsure and with a long moment of hesitation, Yuuri slipped down into the seat. His fingers gripped white on the armrest. Had he spoke about his own skating?
‘I would have liked,’ Victor spoke quietly, almost as if he was unsure of his ability to say the words, ‘to have been liked for myself. Not some pointless, idolised version.’ He caught Yuuri’s eye. ‘Does that explain something of why I was upset?’
Rigid in deep, unspeakable awkwardness, Yuuri just nodded. He needed copious amounts of hard spirits to discuss his emotions but apparently Victor had no such inhibitions. There was no way for this to end well. Surely they could just ignore each other and he would simply regret every single action that had led to being on this flight?
‘Is your hoodie wet?’ Yuuri asked suddenly.
‘Ah.’ Victor touched the front of his top. ‘Yes. An accident with water.’
Yuuri stared in growing dread. Surely not - ‘Was that - did I -’
‘I tried to give you a cup, you refused quite firmly.’
No amount of shadow would have been enough to hide the horror on Yuuri’s face. ‘Victor, I am so s-’
‘My fault. I dropped it. Even Russians have an upper limit on vodka.’
Not entirely sure he believed Victor, Yuuri stared awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure what he had said and that was the heavy, pressing problem. He could see in Victor’s face that something had changed, the anger was gone and replaced by a quieter regret and sadness. Was it sadness? What had he said? He’d insulted him, unburdened his feelings, and flung water on him? In the cold clarity of horror, Yuuri could acknowledge that Victor had really done nothing wrong. He knew Victor wouldn’t want to hear he was a fan, that he had been hiding it, of course he would feel upset at the lies. But why was he upset?
Yuuri bent and rummaged quickly through his bag. He sat up with his sweater in hand, face flushed and hair flopped over his eyes. Victor blinked and looked away.
‘Here.’ Yuuri held out his sweater.
Victor stared in silence.
Wrung out and exhausted, Yuuri was suddenly too tired to do this. ‘You’re going to spend the next five hours in that top?’
Maybe Victor saw something of that in his face. Maybe he felt the same. He hesitated, then accepted the sweater. ‘It’d have dried in two.’
‘Oh, two hours? Well in that case I’ll have my sweater back, thanks.’ It was an automatic, unthinking response and he heard Victor chuckle.
In the dark cabin, a faint light caught in Victor’s eyes as he looked across at Yuuri, almost asking permission for the smile still curving his lips. It was too easy to smile that same tentative smile back.
It had been a day of belated realisations. Staring into Victor’s soft expression, Yuuri realised something else.
Despite the lies, and the betrayal Victor said he felt, he was gazing at Yuuri with a sad, regretful sort of fondness. Or perhaps it was quiet longing. It was in the tilt of his lips and the creases to the side of his eyes. There was unmistakably fondness.
How could anyone come to care in just one day? It wasn’t logical.
‘You should change your top,’ Yuuri said finally, at a loss for anything else to say. He didn’t know what he wanted to feel, what it made sense to think. Victor Nikiforov felt something for him. He’d made someone care. Victor.
At no point in his fleeting fantasies had he imagined Victor might share something of his ill-advised, illogical affection. Regardless of some of the more exotic twists his imagination had taken, every pictured scenario for this flight had ended with farewelling Victor at the gates. Victor would would be charming and amusing, maybe a kiss would be stolen, but ultimately he would walk away without a backwards glance. Yuuri was now facing the possibility that Victor might be at least half as reluctant to part as he himself was. Surely it just had to be the novelty of meeting someone outside of skating, as untrue as that might have later turned out to be. Surely that was the reason for Victor’s attachment?
Victor held Yuuri’s sweater and glanced out across the cabin. Everyone was still and quiet beneath their blankets, slumped against the shoulders of family and friends. Without any sense of shame, Victor seized the hem of his hoodie and stripped it smoothly over his head, t-shirt and all. Yuuri choked. He was fit. Very clearly trained hard on the ice. The low cabin lights and deep shadows did some incredibly flattering things for the line of muscle down his stomach and Yuuri unsuccessfully tried not to stare.
‘I do know when you’re staring at me, Yuuri.’
Happily the cabin was dark and Yuuri could hide his blush in the shadows.
Victor yanked the sweater down over his head and shot Yuuri an amused glance through tousled hair. ‘Not saying I mind, remember.’ He grinned and Yuuri badly wanted to kiss him. Perhaps something of that showed on his face. Victor’s smile faded just a little, replaced by something quieter and searching. ‘What do you want from me, Yuuri?’
Yuuri leant his head back and scrubbed his palms over his eyes. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that I honestly had no intention of speaking to you on these flights?’
‘Not even a little bit?’
Yuuri shook his head and dropped his hands. ‘I was just going to stop drinking water and cross my legs for fifteen hours and sit still in my seat.’
And Victor laughed. Just a small, involuntary chuckle but it was still there. ‘And then I opened my mouth, didn’t I?’
‘And then you opened your mouth,’ Yuuri agreed.
‘Sorry.’ Victor didn’t sound the least bit sorry. ‘But you were very cute.’
The tips of Yuuri’s ears turned red but still he said, ‘Were?’
‘Oh Yuuri,’ was all Victor said quietly. He turned to face Yuuri and gazed at him with a soft, unreadable expression. ‘Shall I kiss you again?’
Like an idiot, like he enjoyed torturing himself, he reached and touched Victor’s cheek. Just a soft brush of fingertips down his jaw. ‘I wish you wanted to.’
Victor murmured something he didn’t understand. ‘I do. I did. Please - what I said before - I was angry. I didn’t mean it, Yuuri. I would kiss you now, I would kiss you again, and again, and I would keep kissing you until you couldn’t breathe.’
He already couldn’t breathe. ‘I’m - I’m sorry, I should have just told you I knew.’
‘Yes, you should have.’
‘But I-’ Yuuri paused and closed his eyes, just briefly to collect himself, ‘I know it’s only been twenty-five hours and no-one can ever really know a person in such a short time, but I like you, Victor. I don’t care that you skate. That wasn’t what made you likable. Remember when you were telling me your version of an embarrassing story? You had your legs tucked up and you’d taken your shoes off, your socks don’t match, did you know that? You were sat there in your mismatched socks and you kept laughing your ridiculous laugh and I don’t think anyone could have looked at you and not seen how great you are.’
Victor made a quiet noise and Yuuri looked up into wide blue eyes. ‘What I want from you is - unrealistic,’ Yuuri continued. Honesty came easier in the close space between them, in the stillness pressing through the dark cabin, the sense that they were the only two humans awake and together in this moment. ‘I don’t know if there’s any point talking about it.’
2 hours and 15 minutes
Yuuri sat with his knees up to his chest, cradling a cup of sprite and focusing beyond the queasy, hungover feeling in his stomach. Most people were sleeping, just a few reading lights dotted the cabin. A flight attendant walked past, the quiet swish of her skirt and pad of footsteps muted.
‘Hello.’
Yuuri looked up into the awkward face of Yuri Plisetsky.
‘Did I fuck things up?’ Yuri asked abruptly.
‘Kinda, yeah.’
‘Okay. Sorry.’
Yuuri shrugged and Yuri jammed his hands in his pockets.
‘So you’ve told him, yeah?’ Yuri asked.
Stretching his legs out, Yuuri looked across at Victor’s sleeping face. He was dribbling a little on to his own shoulder and in some weird way it was touchingly adorable. ‘I told him I knew who he was, haven’t told him that I skate.’
‘Why not you idi-’
‘Because it’s embarrassing,’ Yuuri cut him off shortly.
‘Can I tell him when this flight’s over?’
Again Yuuri shrugged. ‘I’d rather it if you didn’t, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. He’s quitting skating and I don’t think I’ll skate again, so I won’t see him again.’
Yuri snorted and scuffed his foot on the carpet. ‘Don’t bet on it, Katsuki, he’s into you. If you tell him you want to, he’ll make sure you see each other again. Just saying.’
Yuuri looked at him in silence for a moment. ‘You came back here to make sure I knew that, didn’t you?’
The carpet received a particularly vicious kick. ‘He’s not bad, you know. He’s okay. Gets attached stupidly easy though.’ Yuri flicked his eyes up to Yuuri, just for a second. They exchanged a nod. Then Yuuri sighed and slumped back in the seat.
‘I thought it was just a game to him. Who feels anything at all after just one day?’
‘Too much information,’ Yuri said firmly. ‘I don’t actually care that much.’
Except he did and Yuuri could see it in his face. In silence he transferred his sprite to one hand and reached out with the other, he looped his arm around Victor’s shoulders and slowly guided him sideways. He was a heavy, warm weight beneath Yuuri’s arm and Yuuri gently settled his head under his chin. Sat like that, Victor slumped asleep under his arm and against his chest, Yuuri felt a protective spark. He lifted his hand where it was curled around Victor’s shoulder and slid it softly over his head, pushing his hair from his forehead.
‘Just, like, give him your number or something, okay?’
50 minutes
Victor was snoring. Small, droning little snores against Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri had long given up pretending to watch a movie and instead sat there with his eyes closed, drifting to the sound of Victor’s breathing and the solid warmth of his body under his arm.
They were were going to start their descent soon. Was it selfish to wish Victor was awake? Somehow they’d come a full circle, from that first flirting, Yuuri telling himself it wasn’t meant to matter and it wasn’t meant to last, to the awful clarity of the last few hours, to Yuuri once again gazing at Victor, telling himself it wasn’t meant to matter and it wasn’t meant to last.
Yuuri dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss to Victor’s forehead. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. There was a lot he was sorry for, he wasn’t even sure if he could define it for himself. For how he felt, for the things he had said, the stupid choices he had made, for how Victor felt, for how Victor perhaps felt about him.
Victor stirred slightly and mumbled something.
‘Victor?’ Yuuri said softly. He was selfish. He did want Victor to wake up and spend these last minutes with him. Victor made a small noise of protest and remained still. ‘We’ll be landing soon.’
‘No.’ It was mumbled, but still audible. Yuuri felt much the same.
‘Sorry.’
This time with a louder groan, Victor slowly stretched and curled back in against Yuuri. There was something intimate in feeling Victor stretch against his body, half-asleep and pressed in close, clothes rumpled and riding against his own. ‘How long?’ Victor’s voice was deep and rough with sleep, far too close to Yuuri’s ear.
‘Less than an hour now.’
Another unhappy, sleepy groan. ‘No,’ he repeated.
Despite himself, Yuuri smiled. ‘You must be fun to wake up in the morning.’
‘Come to St Petersburg and find out,’ Victor mumbled.
‘I’d like that,’ Yuuri said honestly, because why not? What did he have to lose? It wouldn’t happen, the real Yuuri was anxious with an underwhelming skating career, Victor hadn’t thought that Yuuri was cute. Or hot. But in this moment, there was no reason to hide that he quite honestly thought Victor was fantastically attractive.
The kiss Victor pressed beneath his ear was hot, suggestive, and not faintly sleepy. ‘Good,’ Victor murmured.
He got his wish. Victor by his side, an arm slung over his shoulder as the plane slowly began its descent. It was a bittersweet feeling. Victor felt something in return, but it still had to end.
Landed
The lights were too bright when the plane landed. Yawning, stumbling people poured out into the aisles, tiredness etched into faces and in quiet voices. Outside it was still night. Yuuri stifled a yawn into his hand and hitched his bag up in his arms, shifting his weight as they stood waiting to disembark.
Victor looped his arm around Yuuri’s chest, tugging him backwards and pressing a kiss to the back of his head. It was so effortlessly affectionate that Yuuri’s heart almost hurt, but he just closed his eyes, smiled and leaned back into Victor’s chest. Things weren’t resolved, not really. He didn’t know what he had said while drunk, and he didn’t know what Victor was truly thinking, but there wasn’t time for that now. For these last minutes he could ignore that all.
Baggage claim
Yuri’s hair was mussed and he looked like a cat brushed backwards. He saw them approaching and Yuuri watched his eyes drop to Victor’s sweater. For the smallest moment, Yuuri thought he saw something pleased cross his face. Then his expression reverted to normal.
‘Have fun in peasant class?’ Yuri sneered as they caught up.
‘I missed you greatly.’ Victor grabbed Yuuri’s face and dropped a loud kiss to the top of his head, ignoring the yelled protests.
Yuuri wandered ahead with Yakov, leaving Yuri and Victor to bicker behind them. They followed the crowds of people filtering down the corridors towards the baggage claim. Yuuri’s feet dragged, he wanted nothing more than to lay down, stretch out properly and sleep.
Yakov clapped his shoulder. ‘Will we see you at the Grand Prix again this year?’
Yuuri tensed beneath his hand. ‘I-I don’t know if I’ll watch.’
Yakov squeezed his shoulder, giving him a brief shake. ‘I’m not asking if you’ll watch, boy, I’m asking if you’ll skate again. You messed it last time, shouldn’t let that stop you.’
There was a thud as something hit the ground. Heart in his throat, Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to turn around. Not now. Surely not now, not after everything. He could see the baggage carousels from here and the final customs exit, it was so close to being over, this perfect mess of an amazing, disastrous flight. And Yakov had known all along. Despite himself he almost wanted to laugh, an over-tired, hysterical, hopeless laugh.
Frowning, Yakov stopped and looked over his shoulder.
Victor was staring in stunned silence, bag on the ground beside him.
‘Told you I wasn’t memorable,’ Yuuri tried to joke. It just felt hollow. It was out. It was done. Strangely, he almost felt relief.
‘Vitya.’ Yakov glowered at him, managing to fit annoyance, exasperation, and resignation into that one well-used glare. ‘Yo-’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
People streamed around them as they stood in the centre of the passage, the three of them stopped silent at the shock in Victor’s voice.
‘I-’
‘You didn’t tell me.’ There was a stunned, wretched catch in his voice and Yuuri’s throat clenched. ‘You could have told me.’
Quietly, Yuri stepped behind Victor and picked up his forgotten bag.
‘You’ve -’ Yuuri cleared his throat and tried to force his voice louder, ‘you’re almost the most decorated male skater. I - I came last. At the Grand Prix, I was so bad. You didn’t even recognise me afterwards.’ Victor hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, and Yuuri felt himself keep talking, the words spilling out faster. ‘I wanted to pretend I was the person you liked on the plane.’
Victor stared at him.
‘That’s why? That’s why you didn’t tell me?’
Yuuri twitched one shoulder in a shrug as Victor searched his face. This was it. If he had thought it was bad bef -
And then Victor laughed.
It was Yuuri’s turn to stare.
‘So what did you do with this real Yuuri? The one that wasn’t who I liked on the plane? Is he locked up somewhere in Japan?’ Amusement crinkled the corners of Victor’s eyes and coloured his voice.
‘Victor,’ Yuuri said heavily.
‘No, Yuuri, please do tell me.’ Victor’s amusement was obvious now and his mouth fighting a smile. ‘Tell me how that wasn’t you. Tell me why I’d care that you flubbed one competition.’
Yuuri didn’t know where to look. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, opening them up to stare at a point on the ceiling beyond Victor’s head. ‘You didn’t remember me. Yuri said you only remember the important things.’
‘Yuuri,’ Victor’s voice was all warmth. ‘I can assure you, I didn’t pay attention to this Grand Prix for reasons wholly unconnected to you. I will be more than happy to explain them to you later, should you like.’
‘Right,’ Yuuri said faintly.
‘Yuuri Katsuki, Japan’s top male figure skater,’ Victor was looking at him with open warmth, ‘what did I do right to get you sitting next to me?’
‘Left your seat booking to the last minute?’ Yuuri didn’t know what to say, it just fell out automatically.
Victor grinned. ‘I’ll have you know I was relatively organised, Yakov and Yuri were the ones that didn’t book until later.’
‘You missed out on first class,’ Yuuri pointed out. The fluorescent lights of the airport were bright overhead and the whole scene felt somehow surreal.
‘Mm, true.’ And Victor kissed him.
He slid both hands into Yuuri’s hair and gripped firmly, curling his fingers as he pressed a slow, open-mouth kiss to Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri inhaled sharply. Being kissed by Victor was an overwhelming experience, but for the first time in this entire trip he felt - free. It was all said now. There was nothing more he had to hide. Yuuri closed his eyes and finally, finally relaxed into the warmth of Victor’s kiss, his body. Until Victor pulled back.
‘God, Yuuri, I thought there was going to be some horrific reason why you hadn’t told me you skate.’
‘My Grand Prix performance was horrific,’ Yuuri murmured, chasing Victor’s mouth, unwilling to break the kiss. He felt Victor’s breath puff against his lips as he laughed and tugged Victor back down into a kiss, cutting him off before he could speak. Victor obliged with a slow, intense kiss, dragging Yuuri’s bottom lip through his teeth in a way that made Yuuri’s toes curl. But keeping Victor silent apparently took more effort than that. Yuuri could feel him smiling even before he pulled back again.
‘I’ve seen worse. I’ve skated worse.’
Yuuri groaned, partly from embarrassment and mainly because he just wanted to keep kissing Victor. ‘I was so afraid I’d just blurted it out after all those vodkas.’
‘Oh no,’ Victor grinned against the side of Yuuri’s mouth, ‘you said a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.’
‘What did I say?’
‘Perhaps I will tell you later.’ Victor laughed and tipped his head back to avoid Yuuri’s glare. ‘I will-’ he turned his head to the side as Yuuri attempted to hold him steady and kept grinning, ‘- I will say that I was left in no doubts regarding how attractive you found me.’
Yuuri dropped his hands from Victor’s cheeks with another groan. He pressed his palms over his eyes and felt his cheeks burn. Still laughing, Victor slung an arm around his shoulders and tugged him in against his chest.
‘Don’t be embarrassed, Yuuri. I was glad to know. Made me feel like an arse for the things I said.’
Yuuri stayed like that for a moment, tucked in close with Victor. They’d made their way to the edge of the corridor, half hidden behind a pillar and a lone seat. Yakov and Yuri had long since made their exit towards the carousels. After a minute Yuuri dropped his hands from his face. ‘I didn’t think you would react so calmly.’
‘To realising who you were? Yuuri, this entire flight has been unexpectedly dramatic. I feel like I have exhausted my ability to be surprised. Unless there’s anything else shocking you have to tell m-’
Victor reacted delightfully to being silenced with a kiss. Yuuri tried to pour a lot of feeling into that kiss. One arm wound around Victor’s waist and the other hand buried in his hair, Yuuri kissed with all the longing he’d kept buried this flight. It came as a vague surprise to acknowledge he’d quite like to press Victor up against that wall behind them. What he’d do next was unknown, but he felt having Victor flush against his body and moaning would be a good start.
When he drew back Victor was fantastically ruffled and maybe just a little breathless.
‘We should - and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we should really go get our bags.’ Victor hadn’t taken his eyes of Yuuri, and Yuuri get could get used to being looked at in that way.
‘Probably.’ Yuuri reluctantly slid his hand out from its tangled grip in Victor’s hair.
‘I’m still wearing your sweater.’
Yuuri shrugged and tried to play it cool, like he wasn’t extremely aware that Victor Nikiforov was standing there wearing his clothes. ‘It’s fine.’
‘I mean, I could just take it off n-’
‘No,’ Yuuri said firmly, but unable to keep from grinning at the wicked spark in Victor’s eyes. ‘Keep it on.’ He chose his next words very deliberately. ‘You can give it back next time.’
Victor’s answering smile was gorgeous.
Hasetsu
Saying goodbye to Victor had been difficult.
Yuuri bent and laced up his skates. Even weeks later, back home now, he could still feel the tight squeeze of Victor’s arms around his back. As requested by Yuri and his own feelings, he’d given his number to Victor and taken his in exchange. Thankfully Victor had text him first, before he had time to second-guess himself, convince himself he’d somehow got it wrong, that Victor didn’t really want him to text. But texts were still just…texts. Eventually they were going to stop. Yuuri tugged on his gloves and stood up at the edge of the rink.
Yuuri took a deep breath. ‘Yuuko, can you record something for me?’