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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.

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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...)

It takes a second for Yuuri to peek into the small, attached bathroom. "I'd rather use these," he says, closing the door behind him once he's seen his fill. While growing up near the onsen means he's used to using public facilities, this ship is the furthest thing from familiar right now. Maybe he'll have a look at the shared bathrooms once he's had some time to process everything.

It takes another second for Yuuri to realize that Viktor's making no move toward the door. Just as he's opening his mouth to ask, he decides not to, and simply worries at his bottom lip as he looks between Viktor and his duffel bag. Despite how alien (and what a fitting word to use just then) the situation is, it definitely wouldn't be the first time they've changed in front of each other.

Throwing caution to the wind this once, Yuuri grabs the clothes from his bag and sets them on the bed, shrugging his jacket off just as quickly. The costume itself he has a little more trouble with. The zipper gets stuck about halfway down, as it usually does, and Yuuri sighs, glancing over his shoulder. "Viktor, help me with this?" he asks, with a tinge of exasperation.

Lost in his thoughts for the moment, Viktor turns his eyes back toward Yuuri at the request. He blinks before he smiles, chuckling under his breath as he walks over, shaking his head. "It always has trouble with the teeth," he says, too comfortable and used to both assisting Yuuri and remembering what it'd been like to wear the same costume at a good seven years younger than Yuuri was now.

He allows himself those brief few seconds of his eyes following the exposed skin from the base of Yuuri's neck downward, tantalizing and familiar. Precious enough that he wants to collect Yuuri back against him all over again, absorb that warmth and commit his scent and the gel and everything to memory all over again. He doesn't. He can keep himself together much better than that.

Deft fingers brush against skin as Viktor coaxes the zipper up, first, and then down again, his other hand pressing the material firmly against Yuuri's back. Once past the problem area, the zipper slides along easily enough; Viktor takes it to its logical conclusion before stepping back, patting Yuuri on the shoulder with a flash of a smile and a wink. "All better."

He'd known what was coming as soon as he asked Viktor for help, but Yuuri still feels his skin tingle whenever Viktor's fingers brushes against it. Biting his lip, he holds himself absolutely still until the zipper's been dealt with. He steps away, barely holding in a sigh of relief.

"Thanks," Yuuri says, smile just slightly strained. Trying not to think about Viktor's proximity, he makes quick work of the outfit, stripping out of it and then pulling his shirt and pants on in record time. The costume gets laid out on the bed carefully before he looks at Viktor again. "Okay, let's go. You said it's just a few doors down, right?"

He can feel the salt in his hair from his own sweat. Thoughts like these are more distracting now that he's letting himself accept that, for now, Yuuri is actually here. He's not paying much attention as Yuuri strips down and changes.

Consequently he has one hand entangled in his own hair when Yuuri looks back his way, giving him a small smile almost automatically. "Yes," he says, turning on heel and heading to Yuuri's door. He presses on the panel and it slides open, looking back of his shoulder and waiting for Yuuri to join him. He's not letting him out of his sight.

Not yet. He can't quite make himself do that. "Just down this way. Like I said, I think the room on the far side of me is actually open..."

Still feeling the weight of Viktor's gaze on him, Yuuri zips up his jacket and makes to join him at the doorway. Before he can get there, though, Viktor's words make him stop short, blinking with surprise.

"You...want me to move into the room next to yours?" he asks, a smile already tugging at his lips again. He won't deny the idea had been on his mind earlier, but he'd quietly let go of the thought, given how close his room already is. It's...gratifying, in a way, knowing that Viktor might want the same closeness he'd wished for earlier.

He watches Yuuri's expression for his cues and clues to how he feels about the suggestion; the hint of a smile before it's fully born warming enough. He doesn't want to be pressing and overwhelming when Yuuri's only been awake and here for a handful of hours. He'd laugh at himself if he didn't feel so pathetically glad to be looking at his lover's face.

"I'd prefer to have you as close as possible," he says, and he knows it's an admission. Not one that he thinks is surprising, all things told, and a good step away from saying move in with me, especially when they live in cramped spaces and privacy is something everyone deserves. "We can file the paperwork this afternoon, if you want. Before you settle in here?"

Which means they can haul Yuuri's stuff along to Viktor's room in the meantime. It's very tempting... but he needs for Yuuri to make those calls for himself. All Victor can do is offer the possibilities, and meet him wherever it is he chooses to go.

Yuuri feels like he should be embarrassed by the number of times Viktor's brought a blush to his cheeks since he left the orientation, but any of that is quickly washed away by overwhelming relief. So he isn't the only one who feels this way. After thinking he'd lost everyone he'd ever known, Yuuri wants to stay close, to have that reassurance that Viktor wouldn't just disappear if he turned away. Moving in and sharing one bunk would keep them even closer, of course, but Yuuri doesn't know if he can handle that level of intimacy with anyone yet--even Viktor. Besides, he doesn't want to impose on his space. Being in the room next door will have to do.

"Yeah, okay," Yuuri replies, trying not to look too pleased. "Um, what should I do with all of this?" He gestures at the bed, where his bags and costume still sit. "Does it take a long time for the paperwork to go through?"

Look more pleased. It feeds into Viktor's sense of general well being when Yuuri is in a good place. This still feels subtly surreal, but he keeps grounding himself; even thinking about the practical details of getting Yuuri moved help continuously reaffirm this reality.

He eyes the bags, then steps back into the room. "Let's just bring it along. You can store everything in my room for the moment. The transfer shouldn't take more than a day or so, if you don't mind staying over for the night." He tries making that casual as well, deliberately not looking at Yuuri so he doesn't feel put on the spot. "It's really up to you."

Which it is. It always, always is.

It's really something, the way Viktor can throw that option out so casually, as if it's something they've done often. He remembers that night he'd returned to Hasetsu from the Rostelecom Cup, and the way he'd been hyper aware of Viktor the whole time even though he was careful to leave some space between them on the bed. It's not a difficult decision.

"Okay," Yuuri says again, already slipping one bag over his shoulder. The closeness would be welcome, he thinks, especially when he it still feels like everything could slip away from him at any time. "I don't mind."

Viktor turns his head back to Yuuri, smile quick and spontaneous and perhaps a touch too happy. He fiercely wants to hold on to Yuuri, literally if he can manage it, to know this is real. It's silly, and it's irrational, and he knows this, and Viktor can't bring himself to care.

He's glad Yuuri said yes. It's with that gladness in his heart that he nods, and laughs, and says, "I'm glad to hear that." It's with that same fierce happiness that he leads him to his room, with Makkachin and the strange furball and the curtains he's hung over the window; to the small touches and the remaining flower crowns; to the offer of his shower, first, and then the offer to head down to file the electronic paperwork.

Side by side, step by step, most all the way. This will be good. Horrible, too, because any loss is horrible, and this is a loss so complete it'd taken weeks for Viktor to fully wrap his own head around it. Yet Yuuri doesn't have to do this alone, and now, neither does Viktor. For as long as they both shall live.

So say the crewmembers. So he'll choose to believe, for now.

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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

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