yuri_plisetsky: (sulking in his tent)
Yuri Plisetsky ([personal profile] yuri_plisetsky) wrote2017-05-18 03:17 pm

Milliways: So close to home, and yet.... [1.07-1.08]

When even your cat gets annoyed with your tossing and turning and goes off to sleep with your coach instead, it's time to admit that your usual methods of falling asleep are not working. And when nothing on the Internet is enough of a distraction to shut your brain down, sometimes the only thing you can do is try to bore yourself into unconsciousness.

Which is why Yuri has taken his heavily thumbed school copy of Boris Godunov -- the other, more soporific option was The Brothers Karamazov, but he's not that desperate yet -- along with a large mug of mint tea to a quiet booth, and is listening to some Rachmaninoff piano music playing just loud enough through his earphones to block out the general hum of the bar. By the time he finishes the tea, he might be tired enough to try to go to bed again.

Or he could quit lying to himself, and just accept that he'll be getting almost no actually restful sleep for the next two days.

(Two more days, and he'll be in Moscow. Two more days, and he'll be home.)
fivetimechamp: by me (Default)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-20 04:07 pm (UTC)(link)

The Victor who walks in isn't the same Victor whose picture has been on dozens of article headers over the last few days: he has no perfectly pressed suit, no tie, and no Katsuki Yuri at his side. Instead, he looks like he came right from practice at the rink –– comfortable gray pants, soft black t-shirt, a sweatshirt tied around his waist, hair gone a little damp and wild from sweat –– largely because that's precisely the case. They only have a few days to perfect Yuri's quad flip before Moscow, and sometimes it feels like that's all they've ever worked on, now.

He hasn't done this many quad flips since ... well, last year, rehearsing Stammi Vicino.

There's a lot to be done, and no time for distraction or foolishness, and yet it's been difficult to remember that, sometimes, when Yuri nails his landing or the footwork on a particularly tough leg of Yuri on Ice, and looks over at him with that smile, and he has to remember that since they're paying for this time on the ice, he really should waste it by tackling Yuri and starting another media frenzy.

(Another thing he has to remember not to fall into. His email inbox, notifications, and voicemail are all filling rapidly with requests for a comment, but –– well, he promised.

To keep it just theirs, as much as possible, for now.)

But Yuri is hitting the showers, and he's hungry, so he'd been heading out of the room to go collect some food, except the door has decided to open, not onto the hotel hallway as he expected, but into that strange place-between-places. It's an odd sensation, hearing the shower running behind him, while in front of him is a full restaurant and bar, full of quiet conversation. Piano music floats from a corner, where a pale man in a white suit is playing something Victor doesn't recognize, and the blonde girl from before is behind the bar, putting away some glasses and looking bored as a patron tries to make conversation.

Well, it's as good a place as any to eat, he supposes, so he steps in, only to have his gaze fall on a familiar shade of pale blond hair sticking up over the edge of a booth wall.

Which is probably why Victor slips into the booth just behind him, kneeling on the seat to pop his head over the divider with a grin. "Oh, it's Yurio!"

Already leaning in to take the front half of that book between thumb and forefinger so he can try to close it and see the title. "What are you reading?"
fivetimechamp: by niedola (amused)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-21 03:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, Pushkin." Apparently in response, while Victor crosses his arms on the divider top and settles his chin on them to beam down at Yuri equably. "That always puts me to sleep."

He's never been much for reading. Yurio, on the other hand ... he must still have his lessons and homework to get through, in between competitions. There's a waft of mint from the steaming mug of tea on the table, and he sniffs it appreciatively, wondering if he should wave down one of the strange wait-rodents to put in an order for himself. "What are you doing here?"

As if Yurio was the one who appeared out of the blue and startled him, but it's conversational, and he's curious. He hasn't heard much from anyone in St. Petersburg since Yurio went back after Onsen on Ice, and hasn't seen Yurio at all except on television aside from their last meeting here.

(What he's seen of that Allegro is really quite astonishing, but that's hardly a surprise.)
fivetimechamp: by niedola (content and conversational)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-21 06:15 pm (UTC)(link)
"We're not in Hasetsu right now."

He pushes himself up to slide out of the booth, motioning to a waitrat as he does, to walk around and settle himself into the seat opposite Yuri, back against the wall, long legs crossing on the seat cushion. "We're still in Shanghai –– mint tea and syrniki," he adds to the rat that appears, watching it scurry off with an expression of bemusement. "I wonder if those will ever seem less strange."

But he shakes the thought off and looks back towards Yuri, one hand lifting to tap idly on the tabletop. "But we'll leave for Moscow soon."

Yurio's hometown, and the site of the next leg of Yuri's Grand Prix Final journey.

(And the Red Square, flooded and hung with lights ––

But that's for later.)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (sure!)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-22 12:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'm sure we'll be able to handle it."

There's signage. He's an adult. It'll be fine!

But Yurio's expression –– and more than that, the coolness with which he makes his comment –– don't go unnoticed, even if Victor only observes them with a bland smile.

(Have they always clashed this much? Maybe they were never friends, precisely, but they used to speak freely.

Or maybe he only thought they did, because it was more convenient that way.)

"I'm looking forward to the trip." Maybe the first time he's ever really looked forward to being in Moscow, but it isn't about that city, specifically. He hasn't ever been away from his home country for this long, and there is a small, beating, impatient voice nagging at him to go back.

He can't wait for them to see Yuri. "You must be glad to go home for a few days, too."
fivetimechamp: by me (Default)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-22 02:09 pm (UTC)(link)

That sounds familiar, like every time he'd tried to coax Yakov out on the town during or even after a competition, and every time his invitation had been soundly rejected, along with an order to go to bed early, Vitya, we aren't here for fun, we're here to win.

The impact of it, Yakov's words in Yurio's mouth, spoken in Yurio's terse, teenaged tone has more sting than he would have expected if he'd considered the possibility, and that's probably why he tosses out: "You sound like Yakov," while leaning forward to accept his order, the mug of tea and the steaming plate of pancakes, topped with jam.

It isn't even the scolding, that in Yurio's voice becomes derision. It isn't even the faint flare of anger that scalds over his skin at that final comment. Both of those are annoying –– he wouldn't even take them from Yakov, let alone this little idiot acting like a pissed-off ventriloquist's dummy –– but they don't wound the way those four small words do. What's expected of me.

Bringing to mind a thousand lectures, on the ice, over drinks, at his apartment, in the dorms when he was younger and had no money to afford a place of his own. Yakov, reminding him over and over again, of everything he has to remember, everything he represents. The opportunities he has, that weren't available before. The hopes and pride of an entire country. The history to take pride in.

(The echo of that man thinks of no one but himself! ringing in his head, over the sound of his own better judgment.) "You should leave the lectures to him, they're not your style."
fivetimechamp: by plastic (have been replaced)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-22 03:26 pm (UTC)(link)
He wonders if that's Yakov, too, if Yurio is repeating back the things he's heard Yakov say about Victor: not to him, surely –– however angry Yakov may be with Victor, he's too much of a professional to ever complain about him to another skater –– but to Lilia, perhaps. Between the lines of what he tells sponsors or reporters.

That's a sore thought, too. What Yakov thinks –– whatever Yurio believes he knows –– Victor has never had a better coach. None of this has anything to do with Yakov.

(He wishes he'd never heard that cold it makes me sick, the stinging pretend-coach. He's not a child, or a brand-new competitor, attempting to break into the senior division and desperate for Yakov's approval.

But he still gives a damn, annoying as it is.)

The rest is something he's a little more comfortable with, though, Yurio sounding more like an annoyed child than the half-grown man he is, and he relaxes, reaching for his tea with a shrug. "But then you wouldn't have had the chance to skate against Yuri again. Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Eros. Agape. He wonders how much the latter has changed. It doesn't seem as though Yurio has any greater a hold on selflessness now than he had eight months ago.

Victor's smile is faultless as he offers the plate. "Syrniki?"
fivetimechamp: by me (a commemorative photo?)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-22 04:47 pm (UTC)(link)
That first half of his sentence is true, Victor thinks, but not the second. Yurio may find him vain, conceited as a peacock, but that doesn't change the truth: he still holds the records. He's still the champion to beat.

There isn't a skater in the world at their level who wouldn't want a chance against that.

But all he does is pull the plate back, and help himself to a bite of hot syrniki, topped with ruby red jam and a fresh mouthful of smetana. It's delicious, and he sighs in a moment of pure bliss, before chewing and washing it down with a swallow of mint tea, eyes not on Yurio, but on the ceiling, as if he's recalling the performance in question. "I think you have it backwards."

He likes to be the one to surprise, not the other way around. (But has anyone surprised him as much as Katsuki Yuri has? Not in the last near-decade of winning. Not in the one before that, of making his way to the top.) "Anyway, you should spend less time worrying about someone else's performance and more thinking about your own."

(Yurio isn't the only one who can parrot Yakov, in this conversation.)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (hahahahaha but really)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-22 08:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, I don't know. It sounds like we both have our priorities in order."

He isn't worried. With Yuri's routines elevating him to new heights of potential, and that quad flip (if he can nail it down, but he may not even need it in Moscow), one of those four spots will absolutely be his. Victor has planned for nothing else, because there is no other option.

All of which is thought behind an enjoyable mouthful of pancake and jam and creme fraiche, which is very nearly delicious enough to derail his train of thought entirely. "These are really good, are you sure you don't want some?"

Yurio's wrong if he thinks Victor hasn't considered the opponents going up against Yuri in Moscow, and the likely line-up in Barcelona. JJ (he thinks that's the name) has come storming into the season like a knight on horseback, and Chris is getting better with each performance. And Yurio ...

Well, he'd been sure they could beat Georgi, but Yurio has always been a wild card.

(He really wants to see how Agape has evolved since Onsen on Ice.)
fivetimechamp: by me (why are you running away?)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-23 12:07 am (UTC)(link)
"Pretend you don't know me?"

Victor blinks at him over the mug of his own mint tea (still more than three quarters full, steaming, and delicious). "Why?"

Not only is it a strange thing to say, but it's impossible: he's been photographed with Yurio, over the last few years, almost as often as he's been photographed with Yuri over the last eight months. It wasn't so long ago they shared the ice in St. Petersburg, and maybe they never talked as much as Victor perhaps should have tried, but there was a time when he'd thought they were, well ...

Close isn't the right word, but he's not sure there's a better one. "I thought maybe we could all go around Moscow after the competition: you and me and Yuri. Like in Hasetsu, remember?"

The Spring Festival, the shrine, the beach. It all feels almost like another life, now. Back then, Yurio was intent on winning Onsen on Ice, and grumbling, but it hadn't felt like he was stabbing at Victor with every word, glaring daggers at him from behind that fall of pale hair.

Or had he just not noticed?

It just makes him try again, mug settling on the table top. "Don't you have any favorite places we could go?"
fivetimechamp: by me (actually you're both mediocre)

[personal profile] fivetimechamp 2017-05-23 12:57 pm (UTC)(link)
It's not worth it to get angry with Yurio, he knows. To do so would be as useless as getting angry when an alley cat swipes at a hand that only wants to pet or feed it.

At least, that's what he used to think, but Yurio is a person, not a cat, and however he might feel about Victor, rightfully or not, Yuri, at least, who is not only absent but also only treated Yurio kindly and politely, doesn't deserve the insult.

(Regardless of whether or not that's nearly the same term Victor himself used to use. That was a long time ago, when he was angry still.

And what the hell does Yurio have to be so furious about?)

None of which crosses his face, except in a faint narrowing of his eyes, that turn flat and cool from their previous friendly smile. "Too bad."

It is, and he doesn't understand why, and that's as annoying as any other part of this conversation. Even more so is the niggling sense of sympathy at something buried in Yurio's raged answer: the press, the sponsors. A hissed aggravation making him think of Yurio, hiding behind his sunglasses and with his hands in his pockets, getting more and more nervous around all the strangers at the Spring Festival.

Not that it's any of his business.

He wants to say Did it help, our last talk, with Agape? or to tell him how he can't wait to see what the combination of Yurio and Lilia has done for the Allegro, has been looking forward to seeing it in person ever since Yuuko told him what was in the works, ever since he saw the tiny figure in flames on a computer screen not large enough to do it justice. He wants to reminisce about their time in Hasetsu, and ask Yurio about his grandfather and about Yakov, and see if that little stand selling sausages near the Sports Champions Club is still open.

He'd rather talk, but Yurio would rather attack, and he's tired from practice and feeling annoyed on Yuri's behalf (and maybe, yes, a little wounded on his own, it's not like he thinks of himself as a tsar), so he just shrugs.

"Then I guess we'll see you at the rink."
Edited 2017-05-23 12:58 (UTC)