#podium family | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

capsensislagamoprh · 11 months ago

Text

Aside from a small hiccup of the wind deciding no one's hair would go unruffled, gail forces trying bodily to check the weights used to hold down the chairs, and the triplets having to be kept from the cake via one spectacular flying tackle by their father, most of the wedding went well.

Victor was indeed confused when presented with the change in his groomsman, but seeing Christophe standing there, trying to shove on a priest's collar made from strips of score paper made him laugh so much he quickly regained his humor. Yuuri walked down with the same bafflement as Victor. His brown eyes darted from Christophe at the center back of the platform, taping his makeshift clerical marker in place, to Yuri who was trying to seem like nothing was at all out of place by looking staunchly forward, cheeks bright pink. Yuuri quickly forgot all about outside things when Victor took his arm, walking him up the short dias, hands careful, touching gently as if he were made of silk. That didn’t stop him from cheekily slipping his long fingers up Yuuri’s cuffs to tantalize his wrists. After that, all their attention was for each other, and those gathered for them.

When it was done, to a chromatic display of bubbles and flower petals, Yuuri and Victor got in the classic car with its balloons and ribbons trailing off the end, driving off, allowing the core group of planners and helpers to break down the wedding aria, pop up a few quick pavilions, and set up the reception. Yuri stood at the road edge, watching for them to return. It was two hours before they rolled around the bend causing the blond to race towards the crowd, waving his hands in warning.

Otabek turned his eyes towards the drive, timed it, and pushed play. A slow well of welcoming fanfare began to rise, encouraging the couple to come to the event they had no chance of escaping. At this point Phichit would probably unleash a horde of hamsters to tie them up and drag them to the reception in true good-guy-pushed-to-far style. Otabek heard JJ's voice cry out 'Hamster Style' in his head and suppressed a chuckle.

As everyone was greeted and fed, watered and mingled, Otabek stayed with the equipment, adjusting volume to a bare whisper and watching the mood of the crowd, changing, skipping, and rearranging tracks as needed to keep the party upbeat as requested. During the speeches he got a solid forty minutes to eat, take care of things that couldn't wait, and queue up the song for the couples dance. Watching Victor lead Yuuri about the floor was one of those moments you never quite forgot. The dips and spins were graceful, the lift simple, and the smiles full of joy, love, and wonder. All in all it was the stuff of home movies. Silently, he was glad his phone was in the onsen. He wasn't much for SMS, but Yuri insisted, meaning the video snips and photos from the wedding that would flood the internet, 'breaking it' as Yuri would say, would cause a barrage of dings and vibrations that would wreak havoc with his attention.

The cake cutting was only complicated by the triplets trying to hoard slices at a far table for what could only be considered nefarious reasons. Whatever they were, it was bound to end in sleep deprived parents dealing with massive sugar crashes and a case of bribery. Tables were cleared, the floor opened, and the music gently swelled. No busted eardrums here. It didn't take long for drinking to loosen steps, attitudes, and several belts. Otabek saw it all from the turn tables, though there were a few things he would rather have missed. Mila tried to get him to play something not on his list, threatening to kiss him and stuff thousand Yen notes down his shirt if he did, was something he could have done without. Fortunately Georgi got to her before Yuri did. He did not know how much wine she'd drank, but felt secure that if Mari switched her to water, it was a significant amount.

Yuri paced the setup for a few, seemingly to make sure no one tried to crowd the rig again. ‘He worked hard on that,’ he heard the blond grouse. Eventually he caught the triplets trying to sneak the cake topper, cheese cubes, and what looked like an entire tray of some meat dish towards the shore for who knew what reason, snatching up balloons as they ran. Yuri chased them for a while, giving up when they threatened to climb into the honeymoon car with sticky hands. They had to deal with Yuko at that point, and while Otabek could see them being dragged off by their parents, he couldn't quite make out anything but flailing limbs. Yuri got the topper back to Christophe who stuck it back in place before the couple noticed.

And then people began to float away, heading back to B&Bs, slipping off to do their own thing, well wishes and cheerful blessings being rained down in glowing waves of happiness. Otabek began to fade out the music from the dance floor, dropping the beat based songs, letting them fade into romantic sets that calmed the racing blood. Some were not ready to go. This happened every time, club or not. Seeing Phichit send off the happy couple by driving them himself, neither Victor nor Yuuri being sober enough to manage the front set, Otabek caught Christophe's eye. Without a word, he slid forward a zip drive. Three hours of 'at the club' mixes waited for the after party. The man's cheeky smile and sauntering walk meant in less than thirty he'd have that stripper pole out, set, and ready for a late night of conveniently selected memory gaps. The onsen was going to get a reputation.

An hour later, Otabek was done. Everyone had either gone or were inside the main room of the onsen, drinking, playing with the pole, or doing other things. It meant he could rest. Stepping down, he began to systematically take apart the rig, boxing it up in protective casing. Most of the party things would be taken down tomorrow, he knew, but the DJ kit was far too precious to leave to chance. He was half way into cord winding when a pale hand disconnected a plug from the extension. Yuri sniffed, his 'pretend I am tough' pout in place. "Thanks," Otabek said quietly.

"S'nufin." The mutter was quiet, unusually so.

"What's wrong?"

Yuri shrugged as he unplugged another cord, winding its length. "N'ufin. I'm fine. It's stupid."

Zipping the tie, Otabek put the cord in its box, then turned his whole body towards the blond.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." Otabek waited. Yuri began to scowl. Otabek waited. Yuri began to growl. Otabek waited. Yuri dropped the cord, swinging himself about to face his best friend. "Why are you staring, ass?"

"Wrong angle. Why are you upset?"

Yuri blinked, then shook his head. "Nothing. It's stupid. Doesn't matter."

"It's enough for you to make that face."

"I'm not making a face!" But he could feel it, the frown. It was pulling at his temples, tensing his neck. When he saw that steady gaze, head tilt thing Beka did, Yuri growled. "Fine! I'm making that face!" Huffing, hands thrown wide, he stomped as hard as he could and was rewarded with a satisfying thump. "You were busy all day. I didn't get to hang out with you. I'm upset, okay?"

"I was asked to run the music. You know this."

"Yeah, well... I had to spend the night watching Mila try to make out with three different guys, not including her trying to feel you up,” he growled, “none of which she brought with her. Georgi bemoaned his love life on my shoulder for half an hour, going on about seizing chances or whatever, before I got saved from him. Everyone had a great time, but you were working. Doesn't seem fair."

"I didn't have to deal with the triplets."

"You also didn't have to deal with the slobber monsters trying to kiss your cheeks and calling you son all night long. I swear I was about to turn this into a funeral."

"I saw Madame Baranovskaya extract you from them after a minute."

"Still, it was gross."

"Ah. And what else happened to get you riled up?"

"I am not riled up! I am a justifiable inferno of incandescent rage!"

"Incandescent? That's a new level."

"I know, right! I'm incandescent!"

Otabek smiled. Incandescent. He wouldn't use it the same way Yuri did, but it wasn't wrong. "I don't think I can make you less candescent. What can I do to sooth your totally justifiable rage?"

Yuri snorted, delighted to have his rage acknowledged as valid. All his moods were valid, and the sooner everyone realized it, the less likely he'd be in jail for murder before he won the Olympics. "Dance with me. Everyone else got to. You didn't. And I know you won't if I don't make you. Pitchit said it was a wedding rule. Everyone has to dance. So, now it's your turn."

"Yuri..."

"Yeah, yeah. You don't dance," Yuri sighed, turning away. Otabek watched him as he reached for another cord. Then he smiled just a little more than his mouth was used to. Pushing his lips into a stoic expression, looked over the landscape to assure himself everyone was inside the onsen before pressing a button on his lap top. Adjusting the volume down, he grabbed Yuri's wrist, leading him to the abandoned dance floor.

"What the hell, Beka!" Yuri's protest was cut short as his best friend pulled him into the standard start position for any ballroom dance.

"You asked."

Yuri blinked, and then he grinned. "Okay, Beka... show me what you got."

"You sure?" Yuri rolled his eyes so hard he felt the strain. Otabek shrugged as the music began, yanking Yuri into a spin and slid him along the floor in a twirl that left the blond dizzy. Trying to recover, Yuri's eyes twinkled as he grinned at the challenge. "Keep up," was all the warning his ballet-doing ass got.

Yanked in close, Yuri felt his feet being activated as his hips were swayed, guided by the warm hand pressed to the small of his back. His torso a mere inch away from the heat of the man before him, synchronized movements with a steady to and from, he felt like he was graduating from the high school slow dance to something more. They moved in agonizingly precise steps as Otabek took his technical perfection from the ice to the dance floor, leaving Yuri floundering. He'd not learned this kind of dance, and didn't know how to follow. It didn't matter. Otabek managed to adjust every misstep to make up for Yuri's lack of skill. No matter how the blond struggled, Otabek adjusted, curved it into something smooth. He added a twist or a turn to correct, spinning, sliding Yuri along the floor, his leg slipping under Yuri's to silently perfect and change while leaving the whole thing far more graceful than Yuri had ever seen him before. All the while he never broke eye contact.

Just as he was getting used to the variations Otabek changed it up again, smoothly slipping his grip to the left, his turns counter point as he dropped Yuri into a dip so low the blond could feel his back bend more than when he did the Bellmann. The world was upside down, warm breath pulsing through his torso as he twisted into a spin out, pulled roughly back in by the never breaking clasp of hands. Each of his steps were drawn out, pulled into a long stride as the unheard tempo changed, his shoulders kept firmly parallel with the floor. Even as Yuri was twisted about to slide along Otabek's well muscled back, slipped into a half drop and left to linger as the dark eyes caught his again, he felt the power of the movements, the steadiness of the hands holding him. Otabek's leg sliding under Yuri's, forcing them straight as he used his own strength to turn the blond in a perfectly synced full circle, their lifted arms twisted, snaking together while the other strong limb circled his waist with ease.

Suddenly Yuri felt it, the unspoken communication between two people speaking with their bodies. Otabek provided a strong frame and Yuri followed, matching his body weight and balance, twisting about his dark counterpart with all his well trained grace, every new element becoming a second calling as Otabek adjusted, unjudging and unrepentant in his resolve. Pulled into a quick step, bodies turning in different directions, Yuri found himself slowly stepping into slides, unable to stop his foot from automatically pointing as he was guided to move from one side into two quick steps back and forward. The unique rhythm was easy to catch, which should have warned him. The undemanding, evocative movements began to travel up his spine, shaking his muscles as it rose, fell, stretched and swept across the dance floor. It felt romantic, assuredly passionate, and yet Otabek made it fun.

Then something broke. He began to be pulled along, letting his feet drag as one arm wrapped about Otabek's neck. The older man pulled Yuri's languid form along the floor as he pressed into the heat, eyes smoldering. A sudden twist and yank caused Yuri to whip left and right before his leg bent upward as Otabek spun him again, circling him as he pirouetted, stopping him by stepping into it, leaving Yuri's leg wrapped about his waist, back pressed firmly to chest. The slide of a powerful leg sent them slowly toward the floor, steadied by the bend of an opposing knee. And yet Yuri couldn't break eye contact. No one was there to see this secret dance between the two young people, to see the intuition that guided them, strengthening a deeper connection. Yuri could feel it in his pulse, the way it seemed to shudder and gasp causing his breath to hitch, cheeks to flush - not the steps and strain of his feet. He didn't know the song Otabek had played, the sound classically modern, distinctive and new, but when it ended, he strained until he could imagine the stanzas, the refrain continuing. In his head the symphonic and metallic, sharply contemporary and refined. A brilliant edge of electric frisson coursed through Yuri as he felt himself give way to a greater pull. Lifted back onto his feet, he turned, grabbed Otabek's waist and pulled him backwards, using the steps he'd picked up on to lead a turn of his own. Just as he thought he had control, Otabek spun with a twist that pulled Yuri into a press against his heated form, then dropped him along his arm before flipping him up into the air. Turning his own body into a spin as he caught him, Otabek added torque to the motion until it slowed to a heart stopping dip, their noses almost touching, breaths mingling in panted heat.

Then Yuri was standing in the center of the floor, and Otabek was by the rig, winding up cords. The clicking of the kit’s case told him Beka was getting ready to haul it inside. A sound like a startled walrus left Yuri as he charged Otabek, latching onto his back with all his might. Otabek looked over his shoulder at the blond, a hand resting on one exposed ankle as Yuri's legs threatened to break ribs, arms close to choking him out with how tight Yuri was holding on.

"Oh My Gawd, Beka! How long have you been able to do that?!"

"Yuri..." Otabek dropped to a half crouch and bounced up, resetting the blond so he could breathe properly.

"How long!" Yuri persisted, shaking himself back and forth, heedless of the dangers of toppling.

"I had to do something other than ballet. I did ballroom instead."

"What other skills have you been hiding?! Tell me!"

"I should tell you everything I keep up my sleeve? How will I remain competitive?"

Yuri pouted, pulling himself forward to glare. "You should tell me everything."

"You want all my secrets?"

"Yes! Tell me how to do that! How do I do that on ice? If you did that on ice you'd smash stupid JJ's face!"

"Those are double moves, Yuri. They are not single dances."

Yuri seemed to consider, giving Otabek enough time to bend, catching the handle of the kit case. Standing again, Yuri refusing to be dislodged by mere gravity, he grudgingly conceded as he adjusted his grip. "Okay, but can any of it be translated to ice?"

"I do that all the time."

"You have to show me! I need to kick JJs ass! You need to kick JJs ass! How do you have all that and JJ keeps existing!"

Otabek allowed himself a small smile before the light of the onsen showed him people clearly. His face became a mask of calm, voice lowered to keep attention away from the pair. He did not want to be 'driven' to take Yuri to another dance contest. With the strip pole. Turning sharply to the side of the building, Otabek made for the side entrance. "One day he won't be on the ice to compete with you any more. You may miss him then."

"Never!" came Yuri's scandalized reply.

While he walked, pace slowed by the weight of the case and balancing the slowly slumping body of Yuri as he began to fall asleep, Otabek felt steady breaths along the cord of his neck. The warmth of being close, the excitement and stress of the day, and exuberant dance took its toll on the blond’s small frame. When Otabek finally made it to their room, setting the kit down, he nudged Yuri. "Bed?"

"Mumm нет! Not yet."

As Yuri adjusted his grip, Otabek reached for a book and his reading glasses, then made his way outside. By the time he was in a spot close enough to hear the music, yet far enough to let Yuri fall further into sleep, he felt the night settle into his skin. Sitting in the sand, he looked over his shoulder. Yuri's viridian eyes were barely opened. A small smile bent his lips. "I had fun," he whispered into Otabek's neck. "But don't tell them. They'll gloat about it," he sighed.

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Anything for you, Yuri."

"Good." Yuri's arms went slack with sleep leaving Otabek to catch him with a quick twist of his back and arms. Dragging the pale body along his side, he let Yuri curl up like a cat, half in his lap to rest. Carding his fingers through golden locks, he opened his book.

A chapter and a half later his head snapped up. Turning he saw Christophe standing behind him with a set of stilettos in hand, the red leather highly polished and strappy. "So tell me," the Swiss said with a purr, "How did you know about the officiant?"

"I heard Mrs. Katsuki mention it. You used my rig to print your certificate."

"I did. You made good points, but just in case, you understand." Christophe shrugged, his smile assessing. Otabek gave no reaction, leaving him to carry on. "Sarah was right, about it being easily done online. I only needed to complete a short course and pay a fee. It took fifteen minutes."

"Ah."

"And the after party mix? How did you find time?"

"It was not as hard as blending the Chicken Dance into Tentomucshi no Sanba. I have no idea how that combo slipped past Leo."

Christophe smiled. "It was unique, but it did make the floor dance." Otabek shrugged. "Now, about this," the older man said motioning to the sleeping blond in the Kazakh's lap. Otabek's dark stair didn't flinch. "Do I need to have the talk?"

"Which one?"

"Harm and funerals."

"Consider it given."

"Good," Christophe smiled, rising up with a twist of his hips. "It's a killer mix. I won't be giving the drive back."

Otabek shrugged, turning back to his book. Once Christophe was firmly back inside, Yuri peered up from the brunette’s thighs. "What was that about?"

"Liability clauses included in standard terms and conditions exclusive to several lifetimes, guaranteed." Yuri squinted, a confused pout wrinkling his nose. "Nothing's wrong, Yuri. Want to go inside where it's warm?"

"Yeah. The sand is creeping into my shirt. It itches."

"Alright." Yuri refused to walk by himself. Not when he could cling to Otabek like a backpack. Yuri was slowly becoming aware of the base in the music, mischief calling to him. Peeking over Otabek's shoulder, he saw the stilettos, heard the cheers, his eyes becoming wide as he turned to find his phone. Blackmail! A few quick snaps were all he got before he was taken down the hall, into their shared room. Realizing he had just enough energy to change out of his suit and curl into his favorite living heater, Yuri began falling asleep again, the steady stroking of his hair lulling him deeper into calm. The blond staunchly refused to admit the others might have a point with the whole 'kitten' thing. He might be small, but he was mighty! Otabek got that. He understood. Yuri was a Tiger, damn it! Tigers were cats! Big predatory *stretch* cats with cool stripes and very pointy teeth! He was *yawn* an Ice Tiger! Because he was so good on ice, and also so cool! A cool ... sleepy ... tiger with his own personal heat source…

Pale arms wrapped tighter about Otabek's waist, face pressed into his midsection, a faint purr rumbling from the blond's unknowing lips. Otabek sat reading a few more chapters, his lips tilted in a secret smile as Yuri slept.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14

2 notes · View notes

capsensislagamoprh · 11 months ago

Text

"For the love of - it was a joke Victor! A Joke!"

"Yuri, this is not a thing to joke about. I need confirmation. I need to know. The suit. It is not. Not. Powder blue?"

"No! Just the tie is." Yuri held up his hands in surrender, backing away from the steadily approaching Victor.

"It is not. It's not that hideous tie I saw last week?"

Yuri shot a glance to Christophe, hoping to enlist help. "I... it is? It's powder blue? I ... Look, I don't know what to tell you! He likes it, I think?"

Victor's hands twitched. He didn't know whether to strangle Yuri for teasing him about such an important matter on his wedding day, or dig himself bodily through the wall to rip that hideous tie from his fiance's hands, then use it to light a pyre to their love.

Christoph sighed. "Go see if you can get him to switch to the cream one?"

Offered an out, Yuri dashed from the room. Gulping down stress before knocking on the door down the hall. Phichit popped his head out, eyes staring down the passageway before grabbing Yuri by his shirt and pulling him in. "What's the verdict?"

"Go with the cream."

Yuuri was panting, two ties in his hands. He'd ordered the blue one to be the same color as Victor's eyes, but color match technology had landed him with something that looked like it had been dyed by a preschooler and dropped off the back end of a nondescript van.

"I don't know what to do about this," Yuuri quivered. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"I... I don't fucking know," Yuri whispered, his hand making a mess of his hair. "I don't know anything about this stuff. I mean, it's not my style, you know?"

Phichit rubbed small circles into Yuuri's back. "It's alright. We'll figure something out. I mean, the cream is very lovely. I like the pattern, and the thin gold highlights are very nice."

"It is," Yuuri sniffed. "It's just not what I wanted. I don't get to surprise him often, and..."

Yuri was going to scream. This was the third fashion related emergency, fifth last minute detail, and seventh 'sudden something'. None of which had been anything of the sort. It was the constant boiling of emotions, back and forth, and threatening 'somehow this is all your fault' glare he got from both sides. Look, he wasn't tactful. Yuri knew that. But if they didn't get their shit together, he wouldn't have to be. He'd be ducking murder charges. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "What if I show him the tie? Then you can know if he likes it."

Yuuri's brown eyes widened, tears welling up. "You'd do that?"

"I uh... fuck." Damn emotions and all who had them! Snapping both ties from Yuuri's hands, he took a moment to share a deeply profound expression with Phichit. Fuck wedding day jitters, this was verging on a melt down. His own. Backing away quickly, Yuri spun around, ties in hand to once again storm down the hall.

"Are you okay?"

"Beka!" Yuri threw his face into Otabek's chest. "I'm going mad! I can feel it! Steam is coming from the top of my head."

"I was wondering why your hair was curling."

Yuri smacked his chest, sending the ties bouncing. "Shut it. I have to show these ties to Victor."

"Wasn't the blue supposed to be a surprise?"

"Yeah, but apparently it didn't turn out right, and now Katsudon is having a frickin’ break down, and I have to keep Victor from having a conniption over ugly ties. Every time I try to help, it gets worse, and I am going fucking insane, Beka! The homicide will be justified!"

"Ah." Reaching out, Otabek pulled the ties from the blond's grip. "Tell Victor you've solved the problem. I'll be right back."

"But I haven't..."

"I believe in you." Otabek walked off.

Yuri blinked, turned to Victor's door and knocked. Christophe threw the door open, shutting it quickly when he saw Yuri. He knocked again. "Open it up!"

The door opened a sliver. "What news do you have?"

Yuri's eye twitched in response to another spike in his blood pressure. "Cream in, powder out." Christophe opened the door a little more.

"And the suit?"

"I already told you, it's not powder blue."

"Hum..." Christophe rose a well manicured brow. "Right, well, that's good. You should go get ready now."

Yuri took a deep breath. Great. He'd been kicked out of dealing with Victor’s drama, which normally would be a blessing, but now he was stuck with Katsudon's whole mess and he wasn't sure which one was worse. Spastic Victor or sobbing piggie.

Fortunately, he didn't have long to consider the situation. Hiroko came shuffling past, looking lovely in her gown, pearls dangling from her neck in a double loop, hair neatly coiffed with a rather striking hair clip. Yuri made a mental note to ask her where she got it. As he watched her knock on Yuuri's door and be let in, Otabek slipped past, heading into their room. Yuri followed.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." Yuri didn't buy that, staring at Otabek, nose far too close to his own for any sort of focus. "Mrs. Katsuki is going to help Yuuri," he said, rummaging through a bag. Pulling out a small wooden box, he turned. "What was the issue with the ties?"

Yuri huffed, arms crossing as he slouched against the wall. "Piggie ordered the blue one to match Victor's eyes," gagging noises were caught up in a snort. "It's not the right color, and he started spiraling. Victor found out and started panicking. He hit that stage where he's a danger to himself and society, so Christophe sent me to figure out what was going on. I tried to tell him! I tried! He wasn't listening. Not really. He thought I said the whole suit was ruined, and he freaked out more, got this look in his eye..."

Otabek nodded, watching Yuri as he spoke. "Alright." Turning to the box, he popped the small lock, searching through the contents. Yuri huffed, grumbled, then propped his chin on Otabek's shoulder by virtue of standing on his toes.

"What's this then?"

"Stick pins."

"Stick... what?"

"Stick pins. I think they are called tie tacks these days, though they are not the same thing."

"These days? You are so old."

Otabek hummed in response. When he found what he was looking for, he headed to Victor's door. Curious, Yuri followed.

"Yes?" Christophe answered flatly.

Otabek held up the cream tie. "Carnation knot." Christophe's brow raised, his eyes focused, discerning. Otabek held up a gold stick pin sporting a sizable round, brilliant cut topaz. "Center nestled," he added. Then he opened his hand to show a delicate double heart tack pin no bigger than a pinky nail, a pink topaz chip purposely placed on one heart, a turquoise chip in the other. "Hidden fold up, collar tucked, pinned."

Christophe's smile spread to his whole body as his familiar cheer returned. "Yes! Perfect!"

Without another word, Otabek turned towards Yuuri's door, leaving Yuri wondering what world war code book those two learned that shit from.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

4 notes · View notes