starlogs | Open

Entry tags:

Open

WHO: Yuuri Katsuki & You
WHERE: All around the ship
WHEN: After his arrival (Dec. 29)
WHAT: Exploring the ISC ELUVIO
WARNINGS: None. (Both prose or brackets work for me! Will match.)

A. Closed to Viktor

By the time Yuuri's done with the orientation, his protests have stopped and an odd sort of numbness has taken over. He takes the duffel bag they hand him and lets the crew members usher him into the main promenade, where he's promptly left to his own devices. His stomach churns.

It was an anomaly, they'd said. As Yuuri takes in the passerby (all strangers), the unfamiliar technology, everything, it really starts to sink in: he's stuck on some ship in space with no way to get home. He's never going to see his family again, or his friends. Or Viktor. With that last thought, Yuuri's hit with the realization that he's going to miss the Grand Prix Finals. That after all the work he's put into getting there, he's let Viktor and everyone else who supported him down--

Yuuri chokes, duffel bag dropping to the ground to sit there, forgotten. He sinks down to the floor beside it, back to the wall, hands pressed to his temples. Caught up in his panicked thoughts, all Yuuri can do is struggle to keep his breathing steady and wait for this to pass.

B. Residence Lounge

"Fine" still isn't the word to describe him later, after a few hours have passed. Even knowing that Viktor's here with him doesn't entirely take away the sting in his chest, not when he's still missing the Finals, and everyone else they know is still back home.

So Yuuri does what he does best: distract himself. Without a rink or ballet studio to turn to, Yuuri latches onto the shelves of books instead, brown eyes scanning the titles with curiosity. Though he pulls out a few to flip through idly, he ends up putting them back quickly, apparently having no luck finding what he's looking for.

Finally, he stands back with a sigh. There's no helping it. Yuuri turns, biting his lip as he walks up to whoever's closest. "E-excuse me," he says hesitantly. "Do you know where I can find books on space travel? Something like an introduction, if it's possible."

C. Atrium

There's something soothing about the atrium, Yuuri thinks as he wanders among the flowers. It's not what he would have expected to find on a spaceship of all places, but he's not going to complain. Having Makkachin trotting along beside him is a familiar and welcome sight, too.

Or it would be, if Makkachin actually stayed there. When the poodle suddenly perks up and dashes off, Yuuri breaks into a run after him. "Makkachin, wait up!" In his haste to catch up with his wayward companion, Yuuri almost runs right into someone when he makes a sharp turn down the path.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He won't promise it gets any less confusing. Perhaps all it does is get easier to accept in the ongoing quest for retaining sanity. Still, there's some comfort in that. He opens his mouth, prepared to say as much, that it doesn't get better, but it does get easier to take in.

Yuuri beats him to speaking. Shows, from the way he breathes in to the way he looks up at Viktor, that the time has sunk in. Viktor had been so sure he'd never see him again; never see Yuuri, or Yakov, or Yuri, or the number of people he held precious, counted on hands, maybe even toes.

It's enough that he simply blinks in stupefied surprise before his arms twitch, then come up to hold on to Yuuri in turn. His eyes close, and he breathes in, tucking his head against Yuuri's neck. Viktor himself isn't any prize post workout and pre-shower, but Yuuri? He smells like the medical bay, to be honest, but he also smells like himself. It's surprising how much that hits him like a punch to the gut.

"Oh, Makkachin's been with me," he says, but it's not to disagree. It's loyalty to his oldest friend. One who'd never held expectations Viktor had to perform up to. He squeezes his arms and holds Yuuri close, even when his shoulders offer mild protest, and his knees inform him the ground hasn't gotten any softer since the last time he met it. He sighs again, and this time, it's easier to smile. He doesn't want to pull back, but he also doesn't want them to linger in this hall. Reluctant, he pulls himself back, letting his arms slide from around Yuuri to take hold of Yuuri's arms as he smiles, looking tired and genuine all at once. "Let's get out of the halls."

"Oh," Yuuri says again, this time with a margin of relief. He knows as well as anyone how long Viktor's had Makkachin, and knowing that the poodle was here to bring Viktor some measure of comfort loosens the tightness in his chest.

With some reluctance, Yuuri pulls away to grab at the duffel bag again. A swift look around the promenade has Yuuri blushing, only now realizing how he and Viktor must have looked as they cried and hugged in such a public area. Not that it hasn't happened before, he thinks with resignation of the time he and Viktor had reunited at the airport. He's a bit helpless to stop it from happening, when Viktor pulls these emotions--so rare and practically unknown to him just the year before--out of him so easily.

Face still slightly flushed, Yuuri does some digging around, and finally produces the dog tags. He climbs back onto his feet, wincing at the pins-and-needles feeling in some parts of his leg. "Yeah, let's go." Almost as soon as those words leave his mouth, Yuuri falters, biting his lip. "Do you know how to get there? I can't see a thing without my glasses."

Viktor only cares about the public venue because some part of him is afraid if he doesn't keep Yuuri close and sweep him away somewhere private, he'll be swept up and impossible to find again. A ridiculous thought, but irrational as the feeling was, he knows it comes out of a place of being too aware that this is not a guarantee. Life is no guarantee.

He'll take it. He'll live it.

And with a soft chuckle, he'll reach out and snag Yuuri's free hand with his own, lacing their fingers together if he can get away with it. His other hand moves to lift Yuuri's dog tags, turning them around so he can catch the numbers listed on them. 03. The last two, indicating the floor Viktor lived on as well. "You know, when you say that, it is either much more flattering or very confusing how you always manage to remember where I am on the rinkside." A squeeze of his fingers and the ready grin fades, Viktor gently tugging Yuuri into motion. He settles into a walk, more sedate than he'd like. "I know the way. Assigned quarters are cramped but better than our last few hotel rooms."

The bathroom is actually smaller than any of their hotel rooms, but he opts not to mention that, leading them off through the promenade toward the lifts between levels.

Yuuri glances at Viktor, this time with a hint of incredulity in his eyes. Really? After asking Yuuri to seduce him with his skating several times, Viktor's surprised that Yuuri knows exactly where he is by the boards? For someone who seems so aware of his feelings, Viktor can be surprisingly dense at times. Yuuri shakes his head, just about ready to let that thought pass, unspoken. Then, he remembers exactly how much he's left unspoken to the people who mattered to him back home.

"It shouldn't be confusing," Yuuri says, carefully picking his words before he can lose his nerve. He doesn't want to feel regret like that again, when Viktor is still here with him despite everything. If he has to occasionally shove aside the comfortable silence he knows he lapses into often to make sure of it, then that's what he's going to do. "When I'm on the ice, I'm skating for you, too."

With that said, Yuuri picks up the pace, tugging Viktor along like he wants to run in embarrassment, but is unwilling to let go of his hand at the same time. His ears turn red as he leads them forward, despite not having any idea where he's going.

He'd been teasing, and has half a mind to simply smile and laugh it off as Yuuri corrects him. It's the considered nature of what he says that stills Viktor, listening with his head cocked and eyes trained on Yuuri. At first, he blinks, mind already going, Of course, that's what — before his brain catches up and he understands what Yuuri means.

(Or he thinks he does.)

"Yuuri..." Heart pounding with a happy lightness, Viktor picks up his pace so that he's pulling even with Yuuri as he's dragged forward. He angles in front of him, tugging their conjoined hands up toward his heart, eyes passing over the blush staining the tops of Yuuri's ears red. Viktor pulls Yuuri and his duffle bag into another hug, wrapping one arm over his shoulders and burying his face by Yuuri's ear for the second time in the last fifteen minutes. "I've missed you."

He misses other things, other people, too. But in return for hearing what he's known and also not known, for the thing that he most loved in watching Yuuri on ice, he settles on telling the love of his life something equally true and important.

He missed him. More than all the rest of what he was, he missed Yuuri.

Viktor's reaction does nothing to make the furious blush fade, and Yuuri can't even feel disgruntled about it when Viktor's being so sincere. Instead, he leans in, letting his forehead rest on Viktor's shoulder.

The words I missed you, too don't sound right, even in Yuuri's mind. Not when Viktor's been here for nearly three weeks, alone; all that considered, Yuuri doesn't feel like it would be fair if he said them, too.

"I'm here now," he says instead. And he's determined to keep it that way, if only so that Viktor has someone to turn to from now on.

He tightens his arm around him, giving Yuuri a quick squeeze at his words. That's what matters. Life may be an accumulation of the moments that come before the present, and a hope for those moments that come after, but it's the present that they're living in. It's why he can pull back, still holding Yuuri's hand up to his chest, and smile.

"Yeah. You are. Now, let's see about finding your room, yes? It's very — cozy. Also, I am unaware if you knew this, Yuuri, but space is very boring to see if there isn't a planet or something else close by."

He tugs on his hand again, keeping himself together and settling into that curious joy that has him subtly checking that Yuuri's still there with sideways glances and a squeeze of his hand every so often. The lifts between levels are fairly straightforward, elevators by another name. He encourages Yuuri to join him as the lift flashes that it's going down, only to reveal no one standing inside. Interesting. Not interesting enough for him to not step boldly onto the platform.

"Space is...boring?" Yuuri repeats, still in a bit of a daze. With Viktor guiding him through the crowds, though, Yuuri has no fear of getting lost. Even if they get separated--well, they've found each other here once before, and Yuuri knows they can do it again.

It doesn't take long for him to notice the way Viktor keeps glancing at him, like he's making sure Yuuri is still there with him. After the third time, Yuuri gives Viktor's hand a squeeze in return and holds on just a little tighter.

"It's hard to believe this entire thing is a ship," he finally says once they're on the platform. "And they said there's a shopping center and gardens and everything."

He's thankful for the squeeze of his hand, the way Yuuri holds on a little tighter. He's not blind to the fact this isn't a case of Yuuri needing the reassurance. It's a case of him giving that reassurance to Viktor. It makes him temporarily swallow past a lump in his throat, determined he'll do better going forward. He'll support Yuuri through all of this. Whatever this will bring.

"It's like a very, very big cruise ship. I think." He adds after a brief pause, realising he doesn't know what a cruise ship is like from personal experience. It doesn't really matter. This ship is part of his experience now, and he can work with that, flashing Yuuri a smile as he activates the panel and they're moving.

"You should take Makkachin out with you when you go exploring. He's particularly fond of the gardens. Did you know they even had snow for one day?" Small details. Unimportant things. Ones that are okay for being overwhelmed by, because they don't mean anything. They're easy to let go.

Unlike Yuuri.

"Oh," Yuuri says, blinking. "A cruise ship. It really is sort of like one, isn't it?" Not that he ever would have thought traveling in space would be like being in a cruise ship before this. Isn't getting into space supposed to be dangerous on it's own?

Visibly brightening at Makkachin's name, Yuuri's all too willing to agree. He's missed that poodle, even if it's only been a few days since they left Hasetsu, by his memory. The rest of it is rather dubious-sounding, though, and Yuuri matches it with a skeptical look. "They made it snow? Does that mean it can rain on the ship, too?"

Dangerous and costly, both for the fuel and the calculations needed to escape the planet's gravitational pull. Then again, Viktor is under the impression the Eluvio itself isn't a ship meant to enter planetary atmosphere. He isn't sure if he's right or wrong on that note.

The lift stops, and Viktor leads them out into a hall that looks remarkably like a smaller version of the ones they'd just left. "I would guess so, in the atrium," he says, frowning at the thought. "Their technology is..." He shakes his head, trailing off into laughter. "Ah, Yuuri! I wish you'd seen it. Are you familiar with the traditions around mistletoe or anything like it?"

"Way more advanced than anything we have back home?" Yuuri suggests, filling in the blanks when Viktor himself trails off.

Mentioning the mistletoe throws him for a loop, though, and he's all too relieved that he'd missed it. "I know of them. Mistletoe's really popular in America. A bunch of the Christmas parties around campus had those things when Phichit and I went."

He doesn't seem too fond of them, judging by the dismissive shrug he gives right then.

He nods, likewise not so impressed, but having dual purpose for bringing up that holiday oddity. "They had a similar tradition here, just the other day. A plant much like mistletoe that created a," he trails off, making a rolling motion with his hand as he leads them down the hall. "An invisible field? It kept people in place underneath. Makkachin was my gallant rescuer the first time."

He nods his head, since it'd only taken the one time to learn what to identify and be careful about where he and Makkachin were walking. "I helped one poor half-drunk soul escape as well."

Viktor hadn't even realised he remembered until now, and he taps his cheek with two fingers to indicate where he'd kissed the other man. He doesn't wink, though. Just shrugs. "The way technology works here is confusing and powerful. That's most of what I wanted to say."

This just keeps getting better. Or worse? Probably worse. The frown tugging his lips downward only grows.

"Regular mistletoe is bad enough," he sighs, looking thoroughly put out by the idea of these technology-enhanced ones. "Of all the Christmas traditions from Earth, they had to pick up that one? Why couldn't it have been the Christmas lights instead?"

Still grumbling a little, Yuuri glances over at Viktor with concern. "You don't think they really would've left anyone trapped there if they didn't play long?"

Viktor meets his glance with a small shrug and a level gaze. "Maybe, maybe not. But there is something to be said for choices in how you're able to move around, or in who helps you find that freedom. I wasn't so fond of it."

In fact he was significantly disapproving, but it seemed to be to little point when by and large he could get away from the one day event and not engage. The potential for that technology to be used in other ways concerns him more.

He doesn't need to talk about that right now. Instead, he smiles, winking at Yuuri. "Ah, so I would have been relying on Makkachin to rescue me even if you'd been here? What a sad day for Viktor Nikiforov, he won't even be kissed by his —" Counting the numbers on the doors, he comes to a halt. "Here we go! Your assigned living space!"

By his what?? Yuuri thinks frantically as they reach his door. While his eyes are a little wider than usual, none of his thoughts show on his face--or so he hopes.

"I just... don't like being forced into something like that," Yuuri grits out, feeling like he needs to explain himself for some reason. It seems wrong to just leave the conversation there, even if Viktor was just teasing. "It doesn't feel genuine, when a kiss should happen because you want it to."

His face flushes with color, and he shakes his head as he backs off, now that he's made his point. "That's just what I think." Avoiding Viktor's gaze entirely, Yuuri fumbles with his dog tags and then presses the identification up to the locking mechanism.

He's surprised by some of the shift in tone. Viktor had been teasing, yes. Hadn't thought about it too much, or too hard. Yuuri is responding with more seriousness than he expected, over the part that he frankly hadn't expected there to be much to be serious about.

His own expression grows thoughtful, watching Yuuri fumbling his dog tags and unlocking the door. He waits for the door to open, knowing that he's a sweaty, smelly mess; that he'd been crying earlier and still has traces of salt on his cheeks. He's at far less than his best, and he's not particularly sexy at the moment, but it feels important that he meet Yuuri on this playing field too.

"Yuuri. If I tell you I want to kiss you right now, will that be okay?" He isn't smiling, if Yuuri looks at him. He's leveling Yuuri with an intense, serious look, as if he's soul-searching for some kind of answer. It's only in meeting his lover's gaze that his own features will relax, that he'll offer a small, beseeching smile. He's asking because he wants to know.

And because in spite of being in nothing close to top form, it's something he still very much wants to do, and it feels like he needs to let Yuuri know this.

To be honest, Yuuri doesn't even really notice how disheveled Viktor looks at the moment. Training until the sweat practically pours off you is something they just do on a regular basis.

So when Viktor asks that question, Yuuri pauses and then turns a little pink around the cheeks. It's not that they haven't kissed since the Cup of China--they have. Several times. It's the way that Viktor asks now, after what he just said, that gets to Yuuri. A second passes before Yuuri gathers the courage to turn amd look at Viktor; the expression he's wearing only confirms what Yuuri had suspected.

Viktor's listening to him, and still trying his best to meet him halfway. That, above everything else, makes him love Viktor just a little more.

It's a feeling that Yuuri carefully tucks into the corner of his heart, before he tilts his face up toward Viktor and quietly says, "Yes."

There is a part of Viktor that is smart alec enough to retort with, Okay! I'm glad to know! If he were using the language they share to play word games, as he sometimes does. If he hadn't meant it as permission from Yuuri to do what it is he wants to do.

He brings one hand up to cup the side of Yuuri's face, aware they're still in the hall, that they could open Yuuri's door and step backward into the relative privacy of his bunk. Also aware that, in doing so, he may kiss him for too long, be too reluctant to let go, and all for selfish reasons. So here will do; here or anywhere else with Yuuri. As he leans in to press a parted lips kiss to Yuuri's mouth, his fingers slip back to tangle in Yuuri's gelled back hair; it's such a familiar sensation for other reasons, so why does it make his heart skip a beat?

(He's here.)

(He's really, really here.)

And that's all the preamble Viktor needs as he's kissing Yuuri with a fair degree more of naked passion and need behind the press of lips on lips that is necessary for a kiss in a public corridor; as if Viktor would consume him, if he could. Mistletoe (and everyone else) be damned.

When he gives Viktor his permission, he isn't expecting this.

Yuuri can count on one hand the number of times they've kissed since Viktor first stepped out of the hot springs stark naked and declared himself Yuuri's coach. The first one had been spontaneous, lips pressing together quickly and clumsily before they crashed onto the ice in Beijing. All the others that followed had been tentative and careful, as if they were testing their new boundaries. Passionate and heated, this kiss is nothing like the others.

Viktor's fingers are points of heat against his scalp, while Yuuri's frozen in place for a second. Then, he lets a soft, shuddering sigh escape him as his lips part into the kiss. His hands, pressed against Viktor's chest at first, curl slightly, catching in the shirt.

It's only when Yuuri remembers that they're still in the hallway and anyone can see them wrapped around each other like this, that he comes to his senses. With a soft, sort-of-squeak of embarrassment, he breaks the kiss and hides his face against Viktor's shoulder. He knows even without checking that his cheeks are hot to the touch.

Edited (squints at typos) 2017-01-10 06:28 (UTC)

He's lost Yuuri once already, in his estimation. Part of him won't be convinced of how lasting this present reality is until time itself has passed, and Yuuri remains. He is a more patient man than most would guess, between his personas and his own demands of perfection from himself and those around him on the ice. Yet his support, and that warmth, is as much a part of him as the lectures.

As much as the patience that has made him careful and gentle before cracks, just enough to be fully honest. He doesn't want to lose Yuuri again. If he can communicate a fraction of his need, of his desire in having Yuuri here, in keeping close to Yuuri, then he will. A thousand, thousand times, he will.

It's the sigh that undoes him, sending a shiver down his spine. When Yuuri breaks their kiss and hides his face in Viktor's shoulder, he's left blinking. A smile steals across his features as the motion of his hand turns into something soothing, stoking through Yuuri's gelled hair with the surety born of familiarity.

His other arm wraps around him, duffel-bag and all, and holds him close. He's demonstrated what he wants to have demonstrated. Now he simply wants to take this moment to hold his delightful, adorably red-faced fiance.

Viktor Nikiforov is pretty damn certain he's the luckiest man in several universes.

"Probably," he says after a few breathless moments, his chuckle of self-aimed amusement light and tremulous, "We should head inside."

Still wide-eyed and with color high in his cheeks, Yuuri nods in agreement once he's able to step out of Viktor's embrace. "Y-yeah," he manages to get out, ignoring the way his voice cracks in his flustered state. He swipes his identification against the locking mechanism again and pushes the door open.

"Oh, my duffel bag is here," Yuuri says with relief when he spies some of his belongings laid out on the bed. He'd hoped that those were among the things that followed him here; while his Eros costume isn't exactly uncomfortable, it isn't something he would want to wear around the ship either. The next few seconds are spent checking his inventory in silence, as Yuuri peers into his bag.

He eyes the sparse furniture of the room critically and turns back to Viktor. "How far is your room from mine?"

He moves to peer down at Yuuri's belongings alongside him, part of him ineffably curious. He'd arrived with his clothes, what was in his pockets, and Makkachin. Makkachin had been the most inexplicable mystery of his own arrival. He stays close, not wanting to be too far away, still appreciating the lingering blush on Yuuri's cheeks.

"Ah, down the hall. One door? Two? Same side of the hall. There's a few unoccupied bunks on this level." More on the levels below, as well, with no rhyme or reason behind it. Viktor straightens, seeing this space once more as he had on his first day here. Stark, spartan, cold. Alien, and in a way that didn't hearken back to any familiarity at all.

It had been far from comforting.

"I can show you, just so you know. I've got tea." None of the coffee (or what passed as coffee), but he has tea.

Chewing on his bottom lip as he stares down at his belongings, Yuuri considers his options. One or two rooms separating them isn't so bad. At least they aren't separated by a whole floor. The distance isn't nearly enough to justify moving rooms, even if the irrational part of him wants to keep Viktor as close by as possible for his own peace of mind.

Yuuri sighs and places the standard "newbie" bag on the bed with the rest of his items. Hesitantly, he smooths a hand over the costume fabric that's still visible under his jacket.

"In a second? I should change out of this first."

For his part, Viktor seriously considers asking Yuuri to relocate. He'd be just as willing to ask Yuuri to move in with him, but he can understand and relate to needing personal space. The bunks here don't allow for that option in their limited confines. Next door would be fine.

Should he bring that up now, or later?

He chuckles, nodding to agree with Yuuri's assessment. "The bathrooms attached here aren't all that large, but they work. They have larger ones at both ends of the residential floors. I can show you those, too, if you want.

He has no compunctions about staying there; it's not like they haven't stripped down in front of each other before (who helps with costumes, raise your hand, Viktor, who loves the outdoor bathing pools, Viktor, keep your damn hand in the air), and they're engaged. He just stands there, running a hand through his hair and noting he really does need a shower, waiting for Yuuri to change into something more comfortable than his performance costume. (At what point had Viktor stopped thinking of it as being one from his own career, close to twelve years before? Probably after the alterations...)

Open

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i cant believe that he's actually legit talking about mistletoe memes in game

of course he is

this has to be rom-com territory

it probably is

just has to laugh, ah

rude af

HOW DID IT END UP LIKE THIS

It was only a kiss, how did it end up like this??

open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)