#he does not burn their breakfast <3 competent king

[murderspice]

Day IV. Childhood Memories | Semi-Public Sex [NSFW]

just a shorty for this one, but it's spicy this time, yippeeee <3

I vaguely picture this being post-canon and at the Dellamorte Estates, and I say it counts as semi-public cause there are so many dang crows who could drop in without warning at any moment JKFDJKLF

hugs to @captastra for putting this together (you can find the prompts here!) my other entries: Day I | Day III

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

Illario heard the soft padding of feet behind him, then felt familiar arms wrap around his bare waist. The corner of his mouth ticked up, his focus still on the melting butter in the hot frying pan in front of him.

"Sleep well, amor?"

"For a time." Cadfael's voice, still rough with sleep, rumbled against Illario's back where he pressed his face. "Bed's cold without you."

It never ceased to amaze Illario how sweet Cadfael was in the mornings, before full wakefulness reached him. Even if he had grown bolder, seeking out Illario's touch on his own in the waking hours more often than when they had first met, he was always softest when nobody else was around. It was a clear show of trust from his fierce spellblade that he didn't take for granted.

He laced his fingers with the hand that crept up to his heart and brought it to his lips, before setting it back in place. "I was going to try and surprise you with breakfast. Thought that you'd be too exhausted to be up this early, after last night."

Memories of the night before warmed him all at once. Hands tangled in his hair, thighs crushing his head between them as he brought Cadfael over the edge again and again, Cadfael praising him, demanding, begging—

He could feel the grin against his skin, a graze of teeth following. The sweetness was waning.

"Such a gentleman."

And then the kisses began. Illario did his best to continue on with cooking, cracking the eggs he had set aside into the pan as Cad traveled down the Crow's flank with lips and teeth, around to his front, further down to the trail of dark hair at his belly. Deft fingers dipped underneath his waistband, a feather-light touch that disappeared quickly, only to be replaced with a ghost of warm breath.

Illario dared to glance down, only to find the other on his knees before him. The sight alone was a dangerous one, sending a jolt of arousal through him.

He knew he was doomed as soon as Cadfael leaned in to mouth at his crotch, finding the outline of his length through his pants with practiced ease.

"Cadfael…" His tone was one of warning, but the heat behind it was playful. Daring. The hum he got in response nearly made his knees buckle.

"I know you're capable of multitasking."

Swiftly and hungrily, Cadfael pulled Illario's trousers down his hips and bit down on the newly exposed skin at the junction of his hip. Hard. A low whine tore itself from his throat when Cadfael wrapped a hand around him, and Illario stared right through the sizzling eggs as he tried to even out his breathing. He narrowly avoided burning his hand on the edge of the pan as he was enveloped entirely, a warm tongue pressing insistently against his underside before pulling back up with delicious friction. The other merely chuckled at him for his struggle, planting a wet kiss to the head of his cock.

"Go on. Don't burn our breakfast, songbird."

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

[arcaneranger]

Final Thoughts - 2018 Long Shows

It’s finally here! I’m so close to being done with 2018 (...mostly. We’ll get to it) that I can taste it, but in the meantime, this list is gonna be weird, because there will be things that were already on other lists since I revised my rules of what should be classified how. This post is specifically for any show that ended in 2018 and lasted longer than 13-ish episodes (including shows that aired a second season during the same year or within six months of finishing the previous one), which means that there’s about as much on it as a usual season of shows, but they all had more time to impress - or disappoint me. I’m doing a better job in recent seasons of getting to everything, but last year there were unfortunately things that I missed (I was burned out in the winter) and just have to leave aside for now because I can’t wait any longer for these lists.

Anyway! As usual, let’s start with what I skipped!

* The Seven Deadly Sins: Revival of the Commandments, The Disastrous Life of Saiki Kusuo S2, Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card, Garo: Vanishing Line, and Mr Tonegawa: Middle Management Blues because I haven’t seen their previous seasons or parent works. (Yes, even Cardcaptor Sakura. Y’all can shoot me later.)

* Hakyuu Hoshin Engi, Beatless, and Basilisk: The Ouka Ninja Scrolls because by the time I was rounding things up, I hadn’t heard a single positive thing about any of them.

Next comes what I dropped -

WORST OF THE YEAR: Steins;Gate 0 (4/10)

What a fucking mess this show was. Aside from a very noticeable downgrade in production talent from its predecessor, the plot meanders and flirts with maybe actually happening this time before just dropping out again, over and over, to the point where I was perfectly willing to drop it two episodes from the finish line because it was such an insult to fans of the original. (Also, continued disgusting mistreatment of the transgender character.)

Gundam Build Divers (4/10)

Taking the Build series from being a well-written kids show to an averagely-written kids show that hides itself in decent mech designs.

Katana Maidens (4/10)

I remember so little about this show, and granted that I did drop it after one episode almost nine months ago, but what I did remember was that it gave me strong KanColle vibes with laughably inconsistent animation and flat characters. Meh.

Darling in the FRANXX (5/10)

This should probably be lower on the list, but I got out of Darling while the getting was good, sixteen episodes in. I understand that future episodes of the show cemented it as crappy right-wing nonsense in addition to pushing worldbuilding out of its fortieth-story window, but the moment it lost me was much sooner, when the crazy yandere female lead was reduced, almost instantly, to Good Anime Waifu as a reward to the protagonist for going against his friends with his selfish motives.

Persona 5 the Animation (5/10)

In addition to not actually finishing in 2018, Persona 5 just did not give me a single reason to watch it when I’d already finished the source game, with middling-to-bad visuals (thanks to the switch from Production I.G. to A-1 Pictures, and not even the team that created the much better-looking Day Breakers OVA before the game was released in the U.S.) and phoned-in music, which is especially unacceptable in a Persona adaptation. Also, we all absolutely called that the studio couldn’t tell the story of the entire game in just 26 episodes.

Record of Grancrest War (6/10)

There’s people that like this one a lot, but I didn’t see much that interested me in the first two episodes. I’ve heard better things about the manga.

Golden Kamuy (6/10)

I had problems with the first half of Golden Kamuy that the second half simply didn’t fix, and it became difficult for me to keep watching - the show still interrupted almost every fight scene with a dick joke, but still wanted to maintain a serious and occasionally frightening tone - and those things simply don’t go together. It needed to either spend more time being funny, or keep its lowest-common-denominator humor out of the fights.

Next, I have two shows that are (potentially permanently) On Hold, simply because it’s time for me to move on and I don’t have the time or energy to marathon them when the Winter shows are starting to wrap up:

Kakuriyo: Bed & Breakfast for Spirits, because even though I initially dropped it, I’ve heard a lot of good things since and I want to eventually give it another shot.

Yowamushi Pedal Glory Line, because despite the fact that I still enjoyed the previous season, this one started right in the middle of my burnout and I only heard bad things about it. I’ll get to it eventually, but it’s a shame that this series has been on a clear trend downwards since its revival.

And finally, the stuff I finished!

The Ancient Magus’ Bride (6/10)

Keep in mind that this is here entirely on the merits of its aesthetic and its side characters - in the end, Ancient Magus’ Bride is a Beauty and the Beast story where the beast gets what he wants without learning to be less of a dick or even apologizing for his clearly wrong actions.

Major 2nd (7/10)

Always pleased to have even just Good sports shows around, and this one is a very effective reboot of a classic series that’s never made its way stateside (man, the underperformance of Big Windup! really did a lot of damage to this genre in the West). With good character development and a decent second-generation premise, Major 2nd has the potential to be the beginning of a solid baseball story, assuming that it gets a needed followup.

IDOLiSH7 (7/10)

I dropped IDOLiSH7 when it first aired, and though I wound up enjoying it after I was very strongly urged to revisit it, the problems it started with never quite left it behind - that is, it has an okay cast of characters but doesn’t present even passable performance sequences, and if you’re going to include big song-and-dance numbers, they have to be good, or you may as well just be UtaPri.

ClassicaLoid Season 2 (8/10)

In 2017, I gave the first season of ClassicaLoid a near-perfect 9/10, and while this season gives us a satisfying conclusion to the story, it does things both a little better than the first, and also not quite as great. It’s story is much more well-integrated over the runtime so it doesn’t happen all at once in a few chunks, and the jokes that work are still absolute genius, but there’s simply too much that doesn’t quite land correctly, and a little too much immature humor, for it to reach the same lofty Hall of Fame heights as the first season. Still, one of the most underrated shows I’ve ever seen.

My Hero Academia Season 3 (8/10)

God, Izuku in that onesie is too damn cute.

My problems with Hero Academia are frustratingly persistent - the show is at its best when the students are competing with other students, because outside of last season’s Stain (a villain whose motivation is specifically related to the world of MHA), the villains are just not at all compelling and they all seem a little too generic for their own good. I just want Horikoshi to be a little bit less predictable of an author and do a little less reading of the Standard Shounen Playbook. Luckily, when it works, it works magnificently.

March Comes in Like a Lion S2 (8/10)

March remains director/auteur Akiyuki Shinbo’s most accessible work, and one of his masterpieces, as a well-paced and marvelously moody story of a depressed shogi prodigy learning to be a normal teenager before his youth completely passes him by, and the fantastic characters that surround him with their own complex problems and motivations. I just really, really hope it gets a third season eventually, because this one did not leave off on a satisfying conclusion.

Speaking of which...

Food Wars! Shokugeki no Soma S3 (9/10)

It’s almost a shame that My Hero Academia became hugely popular purely based on its accessibility to American audiences, because Food Wars pretty squarely deserves to be the reigning Shonen Jump king - each season has only improved on the previous one, and this one was based entirely on a continuing arc that could only have happened in the universe of this show, Fighting Food Fascism. That being said, it also leaves off right in the middle of the arc (because it had almost caught up to the manga), meaning that we have to hope that it can remain relevant long enough for there to be enough source material for another season. I’ll be crossing my fingers until they snap.

Banana Fish (9/10)

Yes, this has risen a point since my review, but Banana Fish still deserves to be thought of as both a complete masterwork of crime fiction, being fantastically paced and expertly plotted in the use of its many, many twists, and a work that disappointed the side of me that hoped that, in adapting it into the modern day, MAPPA could have managed to get the author to let them depict what is clearly a queer relationship with the authenticity and legitimacy that it deserved. It’s still amazing, though, and Amazon should be pushing it with their most lavishly-made originals. At least it was the last noitaminA show they’ll get to totally bury.

And, finally, the one you all saw coming.

BEST OF THE YEAR: Lupin the 3rd Part V (10/10)

Lupin is, quite simply, one of the pinnacles of the medium. A simple idea that can (and did) go in thousands of different directions, handled by highly creative writers and an animation staff that has been knocking it out of the park for years, despite the fact that it is criminally (heh) unrecognized in the West. To put it simply, there’s a very, very good reason that it’s been around since the 70′s.

Okay! All I have left to do is finish Dragon Pilot (waiting on a friend) and we can get the last two lists out of the way! We’re almost done...

[takingcourage]

The Start of Forever - Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Drake x MC

Word Count: 2,643

Series Summary: The wedding has passed and the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria are free to begin their lives together away from the constraints of court. While honeymooning in Texas, they’re confronted with questions from their past that raise implications about their future. (Slight AU)

Chapter Summary: After a rocky reunion with his mother, Drake weighs the consequences of telling her the truth about life in Cordonia.  

Note: Since Bianca Walker doesn’t seem to share much in common with the version of Drake’s mom that I’ve been writing, I’ve chosen to keep calling her Karen in order to maintain that they are essentially separate characters. 

Tagging: @liam-rhys,  @speedyoperarascalparty, @andy-loves-corgis, and @walkerisbae

Drake stared into the pitch-black liquid in the mug before him, wishing that coffee had the same power to numb his frustrations that whiskey did. He wasn’t sure where things had gone wrong yesterday, but he knew that he’d gone to bed with an upset wife, and that feeling didn’t sit well with him.

In the twenty minutes he’d been awake, he’d passed from being indignant that she thought he needed her advice regarding his mother to sheepish that he hadn’t warned her. In truth, he’d never given a lot of thought to what would happen if Jena ever met his mom. He only saw his mother every few years, so it hardly seemed that a visit would be impending. As such, he’d never considered what kinds of gaps might appear in the women’s understanding of one another.

Drake lifted the mug to his lips, but jerked it away quickly as the drink burned all the way down his throat. His mother’s coffeemaker was apparently capable of scalding. He inhaled a deep breath and pushed the coffee several inches across the breakfast table. It needed to sit awhile.

Should he confess everything to his mother? He wasn’t sure what good it would do. He hadn’t told her about Savannah’s disappearance, and that decision had saved her from several months of stress. At the time, he’d merely evaded her questions by telling her that he hadn’t seen much of Savannah lately. His mom had grown more panicked as time went on, but by the time she was ready to take action, Paris had happened and he’d convinced his sister to at least call and let Karen know that she was still alive. According to Savannah, the two of them had talked in the weeks since she’d moved back to Cordonia, so he took that to be a good sign.

At the palace, his mom had always had to worry about Savannah getting hurt. She’d hated the fact that her daughter wanted to be accepted by the court, that she was captivated by all of the pomp and ceremony of the that lifestyle. From the time he was conscious of it, Drake’s mentality had always been that his mother shouldn’t have to expend that kind of concern over him. If that meant keeping her in the dark about his personal life, then it was well worth it. Life was just easier that way.

Taking another swig of coffee -- this time with caution -- he wondered idly at what point Jena would have liked for him to call his mother and inform her that he was going to be a duke. While he had warmed up to the idea of joining the nobility, he still would have felt pretty strange saying anything about it to his mother before it was made official. He and Jena had only been married for a week -- well, a week and a day. His annoyance softened as he remembered their cliffside service. Those private moments with his wife had meant the world to him.

Drake breathed out a deep sigh. In his heart of hearts, he knew it wasn’t right to be upset with Jena over this. But at the end of the day, he would use his own judgment when it came to his mother. Past experience encouraged him to keep his secrets to himself and allow his mother to go on thinking that his capacity at court was merely that of the king’s best friend. Besides, he didn’t want to see his wife take his mother to task on his account. He could manage very well without her interference.

As Drake was finishing his first cup of coffee, he heard the shuffling of slippers on carpet.

“Good morning, Drake,” his mother greeted as she appeared in the arched doorway. “Care if I share some of your coffee?”

He inclined his head toward the half-full pot on the counter and she reached for a mug of her own.

“Is Jena still asleep?”

“As of half an hour ago. I think she’s still making up for getting up so early yesterday.”

“It’s good of you to let her sleep then,” Karen considered, taking the seat across from her son. “She’s a fine woman, Drake. I’m glad you have her.”

“I don’t deserve her,” he protested as he pushed back in his chair. In spite of his recent line of thinking, he knew that it was true. She was a much better woman than he could ever have imagined spending his life with. Drake stood and poured himself a second mug of coffee.

“Maybe not,” she shrugged. “But I think a lot of marriages are lopsided that way.” Silence pervaded for some moments as she took a slow sip from her mug. “So Jena came to Cordonia to compete for Liam’s hand and she ended up marrying you… Is she the reason that Liam still hasn’t married?”

Drake’s grip tightened on the handle. Her question was uncommonly perceptive. “Yes. She turned him down for me.” He lifted his eyes and was startled by the consternation etched on his mother’s face. Her brows were bent inward and her mouth pursed in a contemplative circle. Drake began to sense that he wasn’t going like where the conversation was headed. 

“Does he have feelings for her?”

Drake scratched the prickly stubble that spanned his jawline as he thought back to some of Jena’s comments throughout the past weeks. She’d noticed stolen glances and uncomfortable pauses in conversation -- things he’d never been good at sensing. “Jena thinks that he does,” he admitted finally, rubbing at a knot in the wood table.

“And does she feel anything for him?”

“Not in that way,” he answered with full confidence. She was devoted to him -- he was sure of it. He’d had that certainty since the night they’d spent together at the safe house. I can’t wait to be your wife. Nothing in the world could make me happier. The words still sent a tingle of pleasure down his spine. She’d spent the intervening weeks proving that they were true.

“Drake,” her voice broke in softly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. You’ve competed with Liam for things your entire life, and this is the first time I’ve seen you win. I afraid you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak.” 

Her brows knit as she regarded him, and a pang of remembrance made the hair on his arms stand on end. Rolling the edge of his tongue across the cusp of a molar, his mind ventured on an unintended journey to his past. How many times had they had similar conversations before? His mother had always had fears about his relationship with Liam -- fears that he had tried time and again to convince her were unfounded. Perhaps Jena had been right after all... His ears perked at the sound of his wife’s name as his mother continued. 

“Jena seems sweet, and for what it’s worth, I think she genuinely cares about you, but Liam has a kingdom. You know he’s always gotten what he wants in the end.” She extended one had toward him, as if to offer some kind of consolation at the mention of such inconceivable betrayal, but Drake recoiled, pulling himself as far away as the chair permitted. 

His heart pounded in his ears. Had his mother really just suggested that Jena might leave him? The idea was absurd -- more than that, it was insulting. “They would never do that. ” Drake protested, turning fiery eyes on his mother, and an indignant flush swept across his skin. Too late, he heard footsteps in the adjacent room. His wife stepped through the doorway, her face ashen and her hair still mussed from being pressed against his shoulder in sleep. Regardless of her appearance, it was clear that she was very much awake. 

“You hypocrite.” The pronouncement cut through the air like a knife as shock registered on his mother’s face. In spite of his wife’s eerily cool tone, Drake heard the edge of iron in her words. “You’ve all but disappeared from Drake’s life and now you come back in pretending to know what he’s been through? Trying to give him advice? You have no right.”  She shook her head in disbelief and fled silently in the direction from which she had come.

Drake’s stomach plummeted. Jena’s anger was rare, but always surfaced with a vengeance. The extreme coolness with which it presented itself had a tendency to make it even more frightening, and the blood that had boiled in his veins only moments before turned to ice. Tugging his fingers through his hair, he stood from the table and cleared his throat. His mother watched expectantly, mouth still gaping wide. “I’ll be back,” he mumbled quickly as he followed his wife down the hall.

By the time he caught up with Jena, she had rounded the corner into their bedroom. She stood staring at the wall opposite the door, arms crossed and body tense. He could see her shoulders rise and fall in unnaturally even breaths.

Last night, he’d been so certain of his mother’s good intentions. This morning, he was questioning what he knew.

“Jena,” he muttered, coming around to face her. Her eyes flashed at him from beneath the fringe of her disheveled hair. He extended a hand to cup her cheek, relieved when she relaxed a bit against his palm. He ran a tender thumb across her cheek and inclined her face to meet his gaze.

“I would never leave you, Drake. Not for anyone or any reason.” He could feel the clench of her jaw through his fingers.

“I know. I never doubted you.” The assurance felt so insignificant once it had been said, but he didn’t know what else to offer. 

“And I just don’t know what you expect me to do, Drake. Your mom thinks I’m going to leave you for Liam. What am I supposed to do with that?” she trailed off for a moment, her eyes narrowing as they bored into his. “I tried so hard to make a good impression yesterday -- to show her how much I love you and how deliriously happy I am to be spending my life with you-- but I don’t think any of that matters. She’s already made her judgment.”

“Then she judged wrong.” Drake pulled her close, reveling in the warmth of her skin. Something in him had snapped when his mother had questioned Jena. Whatever else she said, he couldn’t just sit there and let her think the worst about the woman he held in his arms. 

“We’ll fix this,” he assured, smoothing the hair that fell to her neck.

At his words, she pulled away, studying his features with doleful eyes. “It’s not our job to fix it, Drake. Can’t we just go?”

His heart broke at the whispered question. “If that’s what you want, I’ll load the car now.”

Tears welled without passing the boundary of her eyelids. “I don’t know where we go from here, Drake. I’m so sorry for making you come in the first place. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.”

“None of this is your fault. And for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen her this overbearing before.”

“I always just assumed your relationship was okay. You never said anything...” her voice trailed off as she swept at her eyes with a finger. The tears still hadn’t fallen, but the redness in her face testified to her depth of feeling. 

“I always thought they were. But no matter what I thought, I’m not going to stand by and let her insult you like that.”

She sighed contemplatively, looking to the space beyond him before finally renewing contact with his eyes. ��Do you think there’s any relationship left to salvage?”

“I don’t have the heart to cut her out, Wittman.” Drake was far from happy with his mother, but she was family. He couldn’t stomach leaving her like this.

He could read the response in her eyes: she cut you out a long time ago. He knew the pronouncement would come in time, but for now, she simply nodded. 

“I think I need to tell her the truth.” Drake sighed and brushed the hair away from Jena’s face, resigned. He wasn’t sure what would happen when his mother knew everything, but he felt like he had to try. Where the relationship would go from there was anyone’s guess, but there could be no reconciliation while she still held unfair assumptions against Jena.  

“Then we’ll do it together.” she promised, resolved. “I’ll try to control my tongue, but we’re going to need to establish some ground rules. I think she needs to just sit back and listen. No talking or butting in until she’s heard everything you want to tell her.”

“That sounds more than fair.” Afraid that his determination would abandon him if he waited any longer, he let go of his wife and took a step back. 

“Hey,” she caught his arm as he turned to leave the room. “Can I have a kiss before we go?”

He assented quickly to her quiet request, drawing her back into his arms. Her lips felt cold against his own, but her rigidity melted away at his touch. “I love you so much, Jena. And I’m sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt like this.” Her eyes were glistening again when she looked up at him. “I know, Drake,” came her whisper. “We’re still figuring a lot of things out, but any frustration that I feel is because of her, not you. We’re a team, okay?”

Drake swallowed against a tight throat, doing his best to nod his consent. He’d already married her twice, but her words would have been enough to make him say his vows for a third time. She just got it. She got him, and it was the best feeling he had ever known. 

Together, they made their way back to the other end of the house where Karen was still seated at the table. Her focus on the window broke as she heard their approach. Karen glanced at Jena awkwardly before turning her attention to her son’s pensive face.

“I think we need to talk for a while,” he started evenly. 

His wife’s voice rang out beside him, still collected, but lacking the scathing fervor it had held before. “Before we start, I want to say that this conversation is going to be better for everyone if you just listen and withhold judgment. I don’t want to snap again, but I will if you say anything against Drake or Liam. Truly.” Jena eyed his mother up and down as if to suggest that the threat had not been made idly. 

Karen managed a nod.

He took his former chair, grateful that Jena was there to sit beside him. Under the table, her hand sought his and their fingers clasped in solidarity.

Karen’s eyes were on him, her face expectant, but uncertain. Again, he had the uncanny sense that he had gone back in time -- reliving all of the times he’d been in trouble as a child and had been made to confess his crimes to his mother. How strange that he would go through similar motions as a grown adult. And how strange that he should feel as though he were somehow to blame -- all he’d ever wanted was to save her from the pain that he had known.

Drake gripped his wife’s fingers and let out a hesitant breath.

“So, there are some things I haven’t told you about life in Cordonia. I don’t think you’re going to like everything I have to say, but it’s about time I told you the truth.”

[creme13rulee]

Deep Within My Bones Ch.3- The Kiss

AU. Viktor wins another gold at the Olympics, and attends the Paralympics as another duty as the King of Ice Skating. Having lost his inspiration and heart, Viktor did not expect to find love in what he sees as the perfect man. Yuuri, after losing his legs, lost his chance to compete on the same ice as his idol. When the world seems to fall into place, what else can be taken away from them?

The neon sign glowed blue into the cold night air. Viktor could see his breathe fog and drift up into the light. He had used Christophe as an excuse, telling himself that he needed to let his friend socialize for a little longer. Long enough for Viktor to get another drink, steel his nerve…and order a car to the restaurant. It wasn’t that far, but wasn’t about to trek through the packed snow and cold. He would appear warm, every hair in place. Perfect.

For Yuuri.

His own Yuri had left with Yakov earlier. The boy was too old for a curfew, but he had probably worked out some excuse to get out of it.

Probably blaming it on Viktor.

They hadn’t spoken since they watched this new Yuuri skate on the ice.

Cristophe pushed open the door, gently waving backwards, shooing Viktor inside. It was almost as dark as the outside, most of the lighting warm candlelight. The walls were dark wood, and the warmth was a welcome relief.  Even though lately Viktor preferred going out and feeling the sting of the cold.

The cold immediately melted away at the sight of him.

He was smiling, his ears and nose still red from the cold. And perhaps the glasses of champagne he had gulped down less than an hour before.   When was the last time Viktor had seen a smile reach someones eyes? When had one of those smiles been directed at him? After 5 gold medals.. no, after 3, the smiles had become more forced on either end. There were only so many records you could break until you went from groundbreaker to someone to break down. His stomach filled with longing, heavy and burning. He had barely talked to this boy, but he wanted the smile to be for him. Not for someone who he had easy crushed in the semi-finals.

Where was this coming from?

Phichit was the reason why he was here. The Thai skater was a friend, not an enemy. He had to remember this. Said man raised a hand, greeting them. Yuuri turned, following Phichits gaze, his doe-like eyes widening. Viktor felt his pulse quicken. But Yuuri didn’t run. Perhaps it was the extra alcohol, or the fact that the seating was benches and kept him from moving quickly.

It didn’t matter.

Viktor easily slid on his smile, moving before he quickly overtook Chris.

“Sorry to make you wait.”  Viktor offered a sad nod toward Phichit, who wasn’t even looking at him. He was watching Yuuri, who stared as Viktor sat beside him, starry-eyed and agape.

He looked even more perfect up close. The way his eyebrows arched perfectly. His jaw line, how his inky black hair feathered around his ear.

But most of all, the grace and strength he held, while also looking like he could be easily crushed in a cold hand.

Viktor had been watching too many Harlequin romance movies.

“No worries, we just got here, right Yuuri?” Phichit barely contained his smirk, which was good, because everyone was watching Viktor and Yuuri.

“Right, Yuuri.”  Yuri echoed dreamily, still staring agape at Viktor. He grew pinker when the king of ice  laughed, radiating the flirt he was famous with the press for.

A waitress stopped by with a basket of warm buttery bread. Viktor watched as  Yuuri woozily doled out a soft roll to each of their plates before his own. He could feel the English he wanted to speak slipping through his fingers like a fine sand. The words fell faster the longer he watched the skater beside him close his eyes, his dark and thick eyelashes against his cheek as he sunk his teeth into the bread.

He had been watching way, way too many movies.

“Thank you for coming out. Yuuri’s a big fan. We didn’t know you were coming out for the Paralympic games.” Phichit interjected after a period of quiet  that Viktor had felt perfectly fine with.

“I didn’t know either. It was a last minute decision. But I’m glad I came.”

Apparently it hadn’t been last minute, but Yakov knew better than to ask (or tell) Viktor anything on the eve of a competition.

“I am too.”  Yuuri said softly, rolling the remainder of the bread between his fingers. “I wish I had been able to do better. I was distracted.”

Distracting, more like it. Viktor tried to keep his thoughts to  holier territory.

“I think it was beautiful.” Viktor murmured, and he hit the target. Yuuri jolted like an arrow had hit his heart, the remaining bread between his fingers squished into a pancake as red overtook the sweet mans face.

“Not as much as you. Y—y-your….oh…” Yuuri stammered, trailing off. It was Viktors turn to be stabbed in the heart. But he had no idea if it was Cupid’s arrow or just the feeling of no longer numbing himself to his heart.

Phichit  dropped the menu from his hands onto the table to hide his own snicker.  Yuuri looked up from his lap, back to his best friend. “Oh… order.” Words were coming hard to him, too.

“I already told the waitress to give us the special.” Pichit smiled. “I didn’t want a repeat of what happened on Monday!” The easy smile came back to Yuuri’s face, and the two friends laughed with such ease that Viktor felt lonely. Chris tilted his head to the side, showing enough curiosity to continue the conversation.

“Oh!  Me and Yuuri went out for lunch, but we didn’t charge our phones!  They died right as we got there, and we couldn’t use any of our apps !  We spent an hour trying to  figure out what to eat before Yuuri remembered how to  say breakfast!”

“I don’t know what we ate, but it was really  good.” Yuuri murmured, his accent thicker than it had been several drinks ago.

“So since then, we decided to leave the menu to the chef.” Phichit said confidently. Yuuri yawned adorably. The six hour time difference wasn’t as bad as the time difference between home and Detroit… But the warm bread, and the warmth sat beside him (and maybe the champagne) was making it harder to adjust. Even with sleeping until the hour before practice.

The technique was flawless. Viktor had the best food he had in a while, warm meat on fresh greens. The wine pairing was phenomenal. He felt sated enough to conduct the usual interview: how was Sochi, how did it feel to have gold again.

“What’s next?” Phichit asked, and Viktor knew he expected “Worlds” or some other simple answer.

But nothing came.

Just as it had since Viktor had bottled up the last few drops left in his desiccated soul into  Stammi Vicino.

What was next?

“Yuutopia.” Yuuri murmured sleepily, his head heavy on his hand. He looked ready to fall asleep at the table, but he kept his eyes dutifully on whoever was talking.

“Yuutopia?” Viktor repeated. He flipped through the dictionary in his head, but came up short. It wasn’t English.

“My parents hot springs. I haven’t been home since Obon. “ Yuuri said  in the same sleepy tone.

Viktor couldn’t bear it. He scooted closer, enough that their thights touched on the dark wooden bench. He didn’t notice.

“You should visit. Japanese hot springs are the best.” He said it so dreamily, that Viktor immediately considered pulling out his phone and checking ticket prices.

“You’ll get to see Vicchan again, too.” Pichit said, moving the remaining food around on his plate. Figuring out which filter that would best show off this meal would have to wait.

“Vicchan…” Yuuri cooed softly, the starry-eyed doe look returning to his face. Viktor frowned. He had heard it before, but it was before the translator had arrived to assist his interview with Skate Japan  and Shoujo Shuukan.

“Mari-nee-chan sent me this picture.” Yuuri said with the same soft coo, pulling out his own phone and unlocking it.  He went into his library, mostly selfies of Yuuri and Phichit, as well as some of the other skaters Viktor had seen earlier that day. He watched as the Yuuri tapped, pulling up a photo of a miniature Makkachin, dressed up in a weird set of jeans-for-dogs and a black vneck tee. It looked more couture than the clothing Viktor had in his own closet, which would definitely not fit Makkachin.

“He’s adorable.” Viktor cooed, and Yuuri immediately scrolled through a long row of pictures, the dog taking up most of his camera roll.

“I miss him. He is the cutest thing in the world.” Yuuri said, staring at the phone with heavy eyelids and a soft smile.

“Vicchan, right?”

“Mhmm. I named him after my favorite skater.” He scrolled to a picture of the dog in a bee costume.

Viktor nearly spit.

“Favorite skater?”

“Viktor Nikiforov.” Yuuri said. Viktor noticed that Yuuri had slumped over, and his arm and side were now against his own. Viktor glanced up to see Chris’ hand pressed to his mouth, stifling laughter that threatened to bubble out.

This was actually going pretty well.

“I happen to have the same name.” Viktor said. What else could he say?

“’n look exack-a-ly like him.” Yuuri said, turning his beautiful smile up to him.

Viktor wanted to see this smile more.

“What if your favorite skater showed up to your hot springs?”

“That’da only happen in dreams.” Yuuri’s tone alluded that he was ridiculous, that it was a joke that it would ever happen. But… was it really that impossible?

Was he really that untouchable? Here he was, draped over him, their thighs against each other, a thousand smiles and looks and accidentally-on-purpose touches of the hand… and Viktor Nikiforov was still strictly in the dream land?

Was this the only thing that would be a surprise?

The bill came, and Viktor took it and slid his card under the clip. It would be the best rubles he had ever spent. (Except for Makkachin’s adoption fee.)

“We should get going, there are more events tomorrow…” Phichit said, watching Yuuri fighting to keep his eyes open, his cheek against Viktors arm. Chris played the traitor, standing up first, forcing Viktor to use his time wisely. He pulled away, but Yuuri sunk closer to him.

“Oh great… We left the chair at the hotel…” Phichit said, his perfectly laid plans fraying at the edges.

“The wheelchair?” He had forgotten about it. The fact that this boy had something about him that kept him from competing in the main Olympics.

“How did he…?” The words left Viktor’s lips before he meant them too. He moved carefully, extracting himself from Yuuri’s weight until we has able to get his feet underneath him.

“He walked in, but if he can’t sit, he can’t walk, and if you’re not careful you could hurt him.” Phichit worried his bottom lip.  He and his best friend were close to the same height, so a few tipsy nights hadn’t been much of a problem. But that had been in Detroit in the summer, not Sochi in the middle of winter.

The problem solved itself, Viktor sliding his arms around   Yuuri’s back and under his knees. Where he expected hard muscle with the soft give of flesh, he was pinched with hard plastic. Though the rest of him drooped, his feet remained straight, his slacks riding up to a skeleton of titanium ankles.

Oh.

“Here,” Phichit said, stepping around the table and grabbing the bottom of the dress shoes, unceremoniously pulling them

And the rest of Yuuri’s leg

Off.

The pant legs below Yuri’s knees deflated, but Viktor no longer had to worry about kicking other restaurant patrons in the head.

“That will make it easier to fit in the car.” Phichit said, tucking the legs under his arm. He obviously knew what was going on and had no issue whatsoever. Christopher knew too. Or he was just cool and didn’t feel like the worlds eyes were upon them.

God smiled upon them, and they happened to stay at the same hotel near the Olympic Oval. Phichit called a car home, the only one smart enough to keep a battery reserve on his smart phone. Viktor, the tallest, was tasked the keeper of Yuuri. In the lobby, Phichit dug out and set the sleeping man’s wallet into his lap, as Viktor held him like a bride over the threshold.

“Thanks. I owe you.” Phichit said, before following Chris up to the fifth floor. Viktor rode alone in the elevator… well, with Yuuri, late enough that the halls were quiet. There was only the hum of the elevator pulling upward, and the soft, even breathing of the silver medalist nestled against his chest.

He somehow managed to unlock the door, thanking all the corporations in Russia that it was a touch-card and not a key. He jostled Yuuri slightly, searching for a light switch on the wall. His arms were tiring, even during the break in the car. Why on earth was he up so high? All the accessible rooms were usually at the bottom floors in order to save costs on ordering evacuation equipment. That was if this hotel was even accessible. It never occurred to him before.

It was a small, single room; the only thing touched in the room was the bed. The expensive water laid untouched, even the complimentary pillow mint was uneaten. Viktor carefully set Yuri on the bed, in the middle of the nest of blankets. He paused, before reaching out to loosen this strange, perfect man’s tie. His eyelids fluttered open, and he stared up at Viktor.

His very core tugged him downward, harder than gravity. He wanted those eyes locked on him, to see what they did when given more pleasure than just a good meal and drink.

But he had just carried him, this boy drunk enough to spill his heart but not tie his idols name to the body beside him. He could not tarnish this image by taking what he could not get a clear answer to.

So instead he leaned down, kissing his forehead sweetly.

“Spokushki, Yuuri.”