The ready response, quick and firm, gets a smile and a nod in reply, and Victor can't quite explain how, but it sounds different from every other time Yuri has answered him in an affirmative, agreed to do what he said, steeled himself for a challenge.
It's not I'll give it all the eros I've got!, declared over the ice, or please watch me, requested with quiet desperation, or all right, I'll try, said without confidence or meeting his eyes.
Something's changed. Some switch flipped, or decision made, and he thinks that when they're back at the rink this afternoon, Yuri will be a totally different animal than he's been the last few weeks. There's a glimmer there, now, in the determined set of his shoulders, and the carefree laugh as Maccachin chased him down, and the firmness with how he's meeting Victor's gaze, now, that reminds him of the Katsuki Yuri that brought the roof down over the banquet, that beat Yurio in a dance off, that challenged Chris, that swept him off his feet. There's a cord of steel that runs through him, and that's what will take them all the way to the Grand Prix Final.
That steel, and the appeal with which he skates. (There won't be a safe heart in the whole rink, when he gets it right.)
"Okay, good."
And there's this, too: somehow, he's both. The seductive, challenging eros, and this innocent, windblown boy: two sides of Katsuki Yuri, both brilliant, both irresistible.
It's a pang, but he swallows it. Just be Victor...huh?
And who is Victor, if not a perfectionist, someone who loves the ice, who loves the work, who always seeks to surprise?
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It's not I'll give it all the eros I've got!, declared over the ice, or please watch me, requested with quiet desperation, or all right, I'll try, said without confidence or meeting his eyes.
Something's changed. Some switch flipped, or decision made, and he thinks that when they're back at the rink this afternoon, Yuri will be a totally different animal than he's been the last few weeks. There's a glimmer there, now, in the determined set of his shoulders, and the carefree laugh as Maccachin chased him down, and the firmness with how he's meeting Victor's gaze, now, that reminds him of the Katsuki Yuri that brought the roof down over the banquet, that beat Yurio in a dance off, that challenged Chris, that swept him off his feet. There's a cord of steel that runs through him, and that's what will take them all the way to the Grand Prix Final.
That steel, and the appeal with which he skates. (There won't be a safe heart in the whole rink, when he gets it right.)
"Okay, good."
And there's this, too: somehow, he's both. The seductive, challenging eros, and this innocent, windblown boy: two sides of Katsuki Yuri, both brilliant, both irresistible.
It's a pang, but he swallows it. Just be Victor...huh?
And who is Victor, if not a perfectionist, someone who loves the ice, who loves the work, who always seeks to surprise?
"Come on, let's go!"