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i'm not upset

Chapter Text

Viktor is painfully aware of Yuuri’s steadily rising popularity. The younger man’s got quite the fanbase building an infestation in the internet after that video of him performing his choreography to Stay Close to Me went viral a couple of weeks ago.

 

Which is something Viktor is happy about, don’t get him wrong! His protege receiving such a large amount of recognition for his talent and efforts is something that anyone should take pride in, and it’s been a huge help in assisting Viktor in trying to uplift Yuuri’s confidence.

 

It’s not much of a wonder, really, Yuuri is a gorgeous man. That in itself is a sure fire way to gaining a steady foundation for internet stardom, and to add up to that, he’s also the very special person (or as the news articles have began to claim) that the legendary Russian figure skater, yours truly, Viktor Nikiforov, had decided to take under his wing. Really, Viktor would’ve been more surprised if the world didn’t cause at least a semblance of an uproar for the younger man.

 

But anyway, back to the original point, Viktor has and is incredibly aware of Yuuri’s growing popularity, it would be hard to ignore, have you seen twitter lately? Not to mention, the stand off between Yurio and Yuuri has been the top-pick for all the sports gossip and sports blogs all over the world to scream over.

 

It’s just that, Viktor’s a bit… well… upset , is probably the word that fits.

 

He’s not particularly sure as to why though, because he’s genuinely happy about this recent exposure Yuuri has been getting, but it’s like a persistent and constant itch at the back of his hand that would not leave him however he tries to convince himself that he’s perfectly okay with it. Maybe it’s because he’s secretly afraid that Yuuri would surpass him?

 

No, definitely not. Not even a chance.

 

Maybe it’s because of the comments in the recent photo he had posted on his Instagram account? Viktor had posted a shot of Yuuri  post-competition, still wearing his costume for the Eros choreography, sweat glistening against the shimmers of the overhead spotlight, a light dust of pink coloring the raven’s cheeks, as Yuuri gives the camera a seductive gaze paired with a teasing smirk.

 

The comment section went nuts, going on and on about how they want Yuuri to slay them or they want to slay Yuuri instead (and, admittedly, more vulgar forms of the like) and Viktor shouldn’t have been surprised, he himself had been on the receiving end of such lewdness and praise from his fans, and he wasn’t bothered by it much. Really, by this point, he’s probably immune to it already. But reading those comments on a photo of Yuuri, his student, got his blood boiling and eyebrow twitching into an irritated tick.

 

Viktor sighs, tugging at the blankets that had successfully enclosed him and Yuuri into their own personal hot pack. He shifts, careful not to disturb the sleeping man beside him, and carefully extracts one of his arms that had been around Yuuri’s shoulders to reach for his phone on the nightstand.

 

With the absence of Viktor’s arm from under him, Yuuri shifts to accommodate the extra space he’s been offered with, turning to his side and nuzzling his nose into the heat of Viktor’s neck, making the dusty-silver haired man huff in mirth.

 

Yuuri sleeps like a baby, Viktor notes, and he’s spent a lot of nights just staring at strikingly charcoal-black eyelashes cast shadows against pale freckled cheeks under the filter of the curtains that dulled the moonlight shining through the windows. He’s spent a lot of nights like this, comfortable under warm covers, his cold feet tangled with lean legs, listening to the steady push and pull of breathing, feeling the moderated beat of his heart strike loud against his chest, with his arms around Yuuri’s sleeping form.

 

He takes a picture, a snapshot of a split second in time. He locks his phone and puts it back on the nightstand, before settling against the warm pillows, tucking Yuuri under his chin and weaving his fingers through soft raven hair.

 

He closes his eyes, he breathes in the faint smell of lavender and sandalwood, and he surrenders to the persistent pull of slumber.

 

*

 

Viktor always looked forward to their morning runs (yes, he rode a bike, but it doesn’t count because he’s a coach, okay.) Yuuri is always lively in the mornings, and they talk about everything and nothing at all. It’s early, with the town still half-asleep and the sun just winking past the horizon, it’s quiet. Perfect for a company of two.

 

“Did you sleep well, Viktor?” Yuuri asks through labored breaths and the patter of running shoes against the pavement, the steady hum of the bike cruising through the asphalt but a steady rumble.

 

“I did! How bout you, piglet?” He asks, “You were really feeling me up last night!” He adds, and he laughs heartily when Yuuri exclaims in shock, don’t call me that! He says, and I-I was not f-f-feeling you up! He protests.

 

Viktor just laughs again, much fuller this time, care-free , he seems to be doing a lot of those recently, and he speeds up his cadence, leaving Yuuri to catch up to him. He hears a soft Not fair, Viktor-san from behind him, but he’s too busy laughing in his head to be sure.

 

They reach the boundary of the town, and Viktor slowly skids to a stop when he sees a group of seven youngsters, probably in their late teens or early twenties, wave both of their hands up and holler Viktor! Yuuri!

Beside him, Yuuri also halts, and they watch as the group makes their way to them holding markers, pens, pieces of paper, and a camera. Viktor smiles when the realization hits him, they were fans! He opens his mouth to greet them when the blonde guy who was leading the pack suddenly greets them good morning, bowing deeply. Yuuri awkwardly choking out a reply while Viktor greets back.

 

“We were wondering if we could get an autograph? And probably some pictures? We’ve been waiting for almost two hours and - “

 

“Sure!” Viktor cuts them off, and smiles as the group cheers in glee. “Awesome!” One of them says, and the guy who was holding a camera hands the device to Viktor, who held on to it with a confused look.

 

“Thank you so much, Viktor-san!” The guy says, as they make their way towards Yuuri, lining up beside him and posing for the camera.

 

Well, this is new.

 

Viktor smiles at how awkward Yuuri looks, adorable , he thinks, as he peeks through the viewfinder of the camera to capture the image.

 

“Another one please!” Someone says, and the other six of the younger men scurries off as only one remains beside Yuuri. It’s that blonde guy, and he’s got a hand on Yuuri’s waist.

 

Viktor drops the smile as he takes the photo.

 

*

 

“I’m going to go take a bath first,” Yuuri says, exiting the bedroom and leaving Viktor to wallow in his self-pity. He plops himself on the bed, it was cold, but it still smelt like lavender and sandalwood, which was a huge comfort.

 

He pouts, remembering the events that had transpired earlier this morning. He decides that he’s not upset about Yuuri’s popularity. Maybe he’s just jealous, in a possessive Yuuri-is-only-mine-please-back-off kind of way. Whatever, no big deal, right? He’ll just have to show the internet, the world, the whole damn universe, that darn blonde bastard who touched his Yuuri who Viktor Nikiforov really is.

 

He pulls his phone out from the pocket of his sweatpants, opens the Instagram app, and picks that picture he took last night.

 

Yuuri was sleeping, nuzzled into his neck, while Viktor has one hand stretched upwards and holding the phone, the other one was wrapped around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri’s hands were trapped somewhere between their chests, and his raven hair was splayed against the pristine white sheets, a stark contrast. Viktor had one aquamarine eye peeking out, the other half of his face buried in soft charcoal hair.

 

Before he can change his mind, he adds a caption, “MINE!!!!!!!”, with at least five thousand different colored heart emojis, and then he posts it for the world to see.

 

Yuuri is going to kill him.

Chapter Text

Viktor turns his phone off, tossing the device somewhere on the carpeted floor before burrowing himself under the warm covers of their bed.

 

Yes, their bed. He had been sleeping with Yuuri for more than a handful of nights, and that’s enough of an indication of co-ownership in his book, or maybe not? Really, who’s even keeping track? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the bed sheets smell like home and that today hadn’t turned into a complete downer.

 

A few more minutes tick by, and Viktor is left inside his own head to wander about life and the universe in general, those and what to eat for breakfast tomorrow, when the door creaks open and the lights from the hallway spill into the room. Yuuri pads into the room wrapped in a fluffy white towel that covers him from his shoulder down to his thighs, his hair damp and his cheeks healthily flushed.

 

Viktor poses where he was lying on the bed, shifting to lie on his side, a hand bent at the elbow carrying the weight of his head as he looks at Yuuri close the door and unwrap himself from the towel, using the same material to dry his hair.

 

Yuuri has a really nice body, soft and lean, and his back is a map of freckles that form constellations on his pale skin. Viktor traces the patterns with his eyes, studies how muscles flex under Yuuri’s grace, appreciates how his charcoal hair sweeps the nape of his neck and how his boxers ride pleasantly low on his hips.

 

Viktor closes his eyes when Yuuri turns to face his closet, and Viktor lies flat on the bed, listening with steady breath to the sound of clothes being worn, deft and faintly-trimmed fingernails clinking softly against buttons, feet padding against the carpet, and finally, the rustling of the blankets beside him. A warm body, a little cool from the bite of the evening air but warm all the same, Viktor hums in content when Yuuri eases the space between them, and Viktor lies on his other side so that his back was to Yuuri’s.

 

Yuuri accepts the invitation, edging even closer to put one hand between their bodies and his other arm was thrown over Viktor’s waist, his legs tangling with the older’s.

 

“You didn’t wear pajama bottoms?” Viktor whispers into the still air, and Yuuri hums against his back. Cute , Viktor thinks, the way Yuuri fits behind him. “It’ll be too warm.” Yuuri mumbles back, snaking his arm that was over Viktor’s waist closer against Viktor’s chest, and Viktor takes his hand into one of his own, entangling their fingers in a snug fit.

 

He studies them for a few moments, long after they’ve exchanged their good night’s, and Viktor can’t help but think before finally succumbing to the tendrils of sleep. It fits, he thought, fits in mine.

 

*

 

Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, damn it!

 

Viktor jerks awake when he get’s slapped smack dab across the face - his face - and he jolts with a surprised gasp, bracing himself to defend his honor against his attacker when he finds out, after he’s finally conscious enough to be aware of what’s actually happening, that his lower body is immobile.

 

Not that he’s paralyzed or anything drastic like that, but he’s held captive.

 

By Yuuri.

 

Who was sitting on his hips like it was nobody's goddamn business, and this is not okay , Viktor thinks, his heart racing a mile a minute and positively beating a tattoo against his chest. He gulps, trying to normalize his labored breathing and trying to blink away this vision. Really, this could not be happening. He feels the sting of Yuuri’s slap against his cheek and nods to himself, scratch that, this is totally happening.

 

He’s not sure if he should be happy or not. First of all, it’s too early for this shit, but then again Yuuri, also known as the very object of Viktor’s affections, is sitting on top of him in nothing but his boxers as bottoms, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows drawn together. Viktor reluctantly relaxes on the bed. He’s probably eighty percent happy about this whole ordeal, and twenty percent not, because he’s got this inkling, and it’s not good. But whatever, right? Yuuri’s on top of him, willingly, at that.

 

He tries to shift, and is aware of that state of his morning wood inside his sweatpants and considerably pales . Okay, make that fifty percent happy and fifty percent not.

 

“Good morning?” Viktor tries, and Yuuri levels him with a deadpan stare. “Mind explaining this?” Yuuri says, and suddenly there’s a very bright phone screen shoved in front of Viktor’s face, but the picture he had posted last night on Instagram was unmistakable.

 

“Alright, I will,” Viktor says hastily, and Yuuri grumbles Please, for the love of god under his breath. “Simply put, I did it because I was jealous.” Viktor spits out, and Yuuri raises both his eyebrows at him, looking very surprised.

 

Jealous? You?” Yuuri says, with more emphasis on the second word. It felt almost like an accusation to Viktor, who just shrugs and nods. “That’s stupid!” Yuuri suddenly says loudly, and Viktor startles. “Pardon?” He replies.

 

Yuuri snorts, cheeks tinted pink, and the way he starts all but vibrating on top of Viktor isn’t doing the older man any good - or maybe it is? Depends on what angle you look this at, really. “Sorry, I’m confused?” Viktor states. Yuuri looks at him fondly, cheeks taking on a much darker crimson shade because of his laughter.

“We’ve been sleeping for weeks, Viktor-san. You asked me out on a date the other night, which, thank you by the way it was really pleasant. You don’t have to be jealous, I’m all y-”


“Mine.” Viktor finishes, and Yuuri’s eyes bulge out of his sockets as Viktor suddenly shifts and now their positions are reversed - with Yuuri lying wide-eyed on the bed and Viktor caging him in from above him. “You’re all mine.” Viktor repeats, and this time, Yuuri gets embarrassed, chocolate eyes drifting elsewhere but on jupiter orbs and Viktor smirks from above him.

 

“That makes me so relieved!” Viktor announces, flopping down on top of Yuuri who -oofs against the weight of the older man. “That doesn’t mean i’ll let you off the hook just like that!” He protests, and Viktor’s head shoots up from where it was nuzzling beside his neck. “What do you mean?” He asks.

 

“No cuddles for a week.” Yuuri says, and Viktor screams.