Yes. Someone help! Isn't that what Victor's been saying this whole time? Isn't that what he's here for, to help Yuri?
"Goryachaya vanna," he clarifies, because Yuri was asking him what he's saying, before pausing, and trying to nail down the slippery thought that isn't quite right. "Dzhakuzi?"
Still no. The hot springs aren't a Jacuzzi, even if he sometimes thinks they're similar. "Goryachiy ... istochnik."
That's better. More like it, even if not exactly. Not that it's something he had in St. Petersburg. In Russia, people bathe in ice water in the morning, for energy and alertness and to improve circulation: they don't steep themselves in natural hot springs after dinner, although they should. Everyone should.
Specifically, Yuri. And him.
Except Yuri still has all his clothes on, which doesn't seem right if they're going to go in the bath, and, worse, he's being handed Victor's clothes back, by two fish-mouthed boys Victor doesn't recognize, although they look sort of familiar.
But Yuri shouldn't be trying to put his clothes back on. If anything, Yuri should be helping him keep them off, just like Victor was so sure was going to happen at the banquet. It was written on his face, even if it never became words.
(Don't you want to come with me?)
He had. Did. Victor was sure of it.
Except the face he's staring at now, trying to find that expression again, is just going red and annoyed, and he's not sure why. Making his eyes narrow, in consideration. How he could find it again. Make it come back. Get that answer he's been due for almost two years.
Even as clothes are getting shoved back in his hands, and he's putting on briefs, more by reflex than anything else. But he's pretty sure this is the opposite of what's supposed to happen.
no subject
"Goryachaya vanna," he clarifies, because Yuri was asking him what he's saying, before pausing, and trying to nail down the slippery thought that isn't quite right. "Dzhakuzi?"
Still no. The hot springs aren't a Jacuzzi, even if he sometimes thinks they're similar. "Goryachiy ... istochnik."
That's better. More like it, even if not exactly. Not that it's something he had in St. Petersburg. In Russia, people bathe in ice water in the morning, for energy and alertness and to improve circulation: they don't steep themselves in natural hot springs after dinner, although they should. Everyone should.
Specifically, Yuri. And him.
Except Yuri still has all his clothes on, which doesn't seem right if they're going to go in the bath, and, worse, he's being handed Victor's clothes back, by two fish-mouthed boys Victor doesn't recognize, although they look sort of familiar.
But Yuri shouldn't be trying to put his clothes back on. If anything, Yuri should be helping him keep them off, just like Victor was so sure was going to happen at the banquet. It was written on his face, even if it never became words.
He had. Did. Victor was sure of it.
Except the face he's staring at now, trying to find that expression again, is just going red and annoyed, and he's not sure why. Making his eyes narrow, in consideration. How he could find it again. Make it come back. Get that answer he's been due for almost two years.
Even as clothes are getting shoved back in his hands, and he's putting on briefs, more by reflex than anything else. But he's pretty sure this is the opposite of what's supposed to happen.