How he was ever supposed to truly be prepared for any of this, even each new day, was beyond him.
The way Victor's hair collects against the bridge of his nose on his side, sometimes, but not always staying back even when moved. The way Victor looks at him, out if those too summer sea-sun blue eyes, tingling all the way to his toes. The way Victor smiles, almost the same smile as when Yuri finally gets something right they've been working on forever. Pride, and pleasure, and something ... else. That happens only here. Something soft and yet strikingly intense.
Yuri's eyelids flicker almost closed, just for the beat of part of a second, when Victor's finger starts stroking his hair, sending a shiver down his neck, through his shoulders and part of his back. The question that happens at the same time did make him a little speculative at least. Thinking over the blur of everything he'd seen and done since the plane touched down in the airport he'd very obviously still get the name of wrong.
"The Luzhniki was nice." If the Small Sport Arena was nothing like its name, seeming nothing like small from the outside, with its grand columns, and wouldn't seem small at all tomorrow. Not when it was filled with more than eight thousand people, cheering and screaming and going so quiet it would feel like you couldn't miss the hiss of blades on ice even.
"I'm not sure I knew what to expect," might be dithering. He has looked, and some he hasn't, because he has Victor is home, or at least the next best thing to home. He hadn't expected the advertisement he'd caught a glimpse of, but he should have. Still his brow crinkled and he searched for something that wasn't those words. "The really tall buildings in the middle? It's almost like they seem out of place."
Wait. That probably sounded rude. Which wasn't his point. Just that the gleaming glass structures stuck out. "Like-" Yuri pursed his lips. "-shining gods looking down on the rest of the city so much further down all around them."
no subject
The way Victor's hair collects against the bridge of his nose on his side, sometimes, but not always staying back even when moved. The way Victor looks at him, out if those too summer sea-sun blue eyes, tingling all the way to his toes. The way Victor smiles, almost the same smile as when Yuri finally gets something right they've been working on forever. Pride, and pleasure, and something ... else. That happens only here. Something soft and yet strikingly intense.
Yuri's eyelids flicker almost closed, just for the beat of part of a second, when Victor's finger starts stroking his hair, sending a shiver down his neck, through his shoulders and part of his back. The question that happens at the same time did make him a little speculative at least. Thinking over the blur of everything he'd seen and done since the plane touched down in the airport he'd very obviously still get the name of wrong.
"The Luzhniki was nice." If the Small Sport Arena was nothing like its name, seeming nothing like small from the outside, with its grand columns, and wouldn't seem small at all tomorrow. Not when it was filled with more than eight thousand people, cheering and screaming and going so quiet it would feel like you couldn't miss the hiss of blades on ice even.
"I'm not sure I knew what to expect," might be dithering. He has looked, and some he hasn't, because he has Victor is home, or at least the next best thing to home. He hadn't expected the advertisement he'd caught a glimpse of, but he should have. Still his brow crinkled and he searched for something that wasn't those words. "The really tall buildings in the middle? It's almost like they seem out of place."
Wait. That probably sounded rude. Which wasn't his point. Just that the gleaming glass structures stuck out.
"Like-" Yuri pursed his lips. "-shining gods looking down on the rest of the city so much further down all around them."