He's never been so happy to see Yuri. He's never been so happy. Grinning, "what?" because he's not sure what Yuri's talking about, or looking surprised and wary about.
There's nothing to make that face for, here, is there? It's just them. And the hot pot. And the hot room. And the rice wine.
It sears through his veins like boiling water, flushing his cheeks a deep and cheery pink, and he lets go of Yuri's hand to brush his hair back out of his face and eye, only for it to fall back again in a second, while he's already reaching for Yuri's wrist again. "I love this place."
It does not start life as I love you, because he might be a little tipsy, but he's not that drunk, and that would be a stupid thing to say, a thing that would make Yuri run, or make that face, like he doesn't want to hurt Victor's feeling but he just doesn't –
Anyway, it doesn't. Is the important thing.
He reaches for his glass, only to find it empty again, and refills it, before remembering that Celestino is right there, too, and they were talking about Yuri, and Victor should be a good host and refill his glass, which he does, even though Celestino is beginning to look a little wobbly.
Italians. They can't handle anything stronger than wine.
The refreshed glass goes down, halfway, at a gulp, and Victor's laughing at Celestino, who's trying to pick up a mushroom with his chopsticks and keeps aiming way off to the side, before he feels motion under his fingers, and turns back to Yuri, who is:
Beautiful. Perfect? Adorable. His favorite face in the whole world. Who wanted him to come to Japan, all those months ago. Who skated for him, over a year later. Who steals his heart again and again, every day, every time like the first time.
And he'd been ...
Right! "Good things," he assures, leaning in a little closer, surprised when his forehead bumps against Yuri's head, and his vision is full of black silky hair and Yuri's ear and the angle of his jaw and he, just. It feels like drowning.
Maybe he is. Maybe he did. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
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There's nothing to make that face for, here, is there? It's just them. And the hot pot. And the hot room. And the rice wine.
It sears through his veins like boiling water, flushing his cheeks a deep and cheery pink, and he lets go of Yuri's hand to brush his hair back out of his face and eye, only for it to fall back again in a second, while he's already reaching for Yuri's wrist again. "I love this place."
It does not start life as I love you, because he might be a little tipsy, but he's not that drunk, and that would be a stupid thing to say, a thing that would make Yuri run, or make that face, like he doesn't want to hurt Victor's feeling but he just doesn't –
Anyway, it doesn't. Is the important thing.
He reaches for his glass, only to find it empty again, and refills it, before remembering that Celestino is right there, too, and they were talking about Yuri, and Victor should be a good host and refill his glass, which he does, even though Celestino is beginning to look a little wobbly.
Italians. They can't handle anything stronger than wine.
The refreshed glass goes down, halfway, at a gulp, and Victor's laughing at Celestino, who's trying to pick up a mushroom with his chopsticks and keeps aiming way off to the side, before he feels motion under his fingers, and turns back to Yuri, who is:
Beautiful. Perfect? Adorable. His favorite face in the whole world. Who wanted him to come to Japan, all those months ago. Who skated for him, over a year later. Who steals his heart again and again, every day, every time like the first time.
And he'd been ...
Right! "Good things," he assures, leaning in a little closer, surprised when his forehead bumps against Yuri's head, and his vision is full of black silky hair and Yuri's ear and the angle of his jaw and he, just. It feels like drowning.
Maybe he is. Maybe he did. "Did you find what you were looking for?"