Yeah, bet you didn't expect a part 2.

Neither did I but it felt unfinished so....boom. More writing.

~~~

Any spectator watching would have thought their hands were glued together.

Even after the scores were announced, not once did their fingers leave each other. Every single opportunity that presented itself was filled with the warmth of a sweet embrace, and the occasional sweet lingering kiss on the temple, forehead, or cheek. Ever since the initial contact, the two had been inseparable, joined at the hip. During the interview that was associated with winning first place at a skating cup, not once did Victor's arm leave from around his shoulder. Whenever the two would escape the hunger-fueled eyes of the hunting media, in the shadows of the frenzied crowd riled up by the appearance of the skater, a kiss would be shared. A sweet warm kiss fueled by the desperation to feel each other after an entire month of being apart. Arms wrapped around each other, around the neck and the waist, the world bursting into unfathomable color at the touch, the cure to any and all ailments that may have been plaguing their mind. And this touch would be held until the threat of being seen presented itself.

Their relationship wasn't exactly a secret to the world. The Cup of China had been internationally broadcast, everybody had seen the kiss. Articles had been written, many claiming the surprise embrace had been nothing more than a hug. Many cursed the unfortunately-placed arm that covered the positions of their lips. Some praised that arm that preserved the skating god's singleness. Regardless, the abundance of hugs the two would share after each competition certainly didn't go unnoticed by the world.

And Victor didn't mind that the world knew. How could he, when his fans had been the ones to bring him to Yuuri in the first place? They had been the ones to tag him in that video. They had been the ones to blow that video up. They had been that push that brought the two together.

But he'd seen the way Yuuri's eyes would dim when asked about his relationship. He'd saw how their little acts of affection in public were muted, hidden. He noticed how he'd flinched when people asked for pictures. And for that reason he kept those special kisses to the two of them. Just the two.

Of course in the whim of the moment, at that initial hug, that sense of privacy had been stripped away. And those kisses on the temple, cheeks, and forehead, those couldn't be helped.

But those kisses? Those special soft brushes that projected their feelings without so much of a word being spoken, those sweet moments where the world would melt away and it was just the two of them there together, those were to be kept between just the two of them.

So they would hide, slip into the gaps between the stands, shrouded by the shadows and dust, arms tight around each other. And they would kiss like it would be the last opportunity they'd ever get. Their lips would become one, their scent mixing into one, their feelings one. No words exchanged, no feeling or emotions voiced. There wasn't any reason to; the touch spoke words enough, palaces of paragraphs exchanged in a second, castles of consonants and vowels gifted to each other. These were the moments they had missed the most.

Though they had succeeded hiding from the rest of the world, these escapades hadn't escaped the ever-shipping eyes of Phichit. The Thai skater had a sort of sense that told him where and when there was shipping to happen, and as he passed the bleachers, listening to Coach Celestino critique every aspect of his performance, that sense had reached an all time high. He turned his head to peek through the gaps between the benches, only to witness one of said escapades.

Yuuri was dragging Victor by the arm, leading him to the darkest part of the shadows. As he slowed, he turned to face his fiancé, the redness of his cheeks evident though the stripes of light that made their way in. With absolutely no hesitation, Victor breathed the name out before throwing his arms around the smaller man, pulling their bodies together and burying the head into his shoulder. The Japanese man accepted the embrace, pulling himself closer and arms wrapping around his waist.

Phichit looked away: he knew his boundaries, and though his fingertips itched to grab his phone from the coat pocket and snap pictures for the world to see, he fought against the urge and instead continued on his path towards the men's locker room.

Besides, Phichit had been the one to provide Yuuri with the competition info for this little surprise as per Yurio's request; he would squeeze as many details as he could from the Japanese man later. For now, he would leave the two to have their moments.

The jumbled chatter in the rink finally began to dissipate, the noise level finally at a level where thoughts could be present without interruption. The media having gathered all the information their ravenous selves desired, the only people left were the skaters, their coaches, and the cleaning crew. The two emerged from their hiding place, their faces content and flushed, hands intertwined, of course. As they walked out into the open space, the cold open air socked them in their face, bringing the harsh reality of life into view.

"OI! Pork Cutlet!!!" Yuuri whipped his head to the side to see Yurio strolling towards him, hands shoved into his pockets. He wasn't scowling, per say, but his face wasn't exactly all kawaii either. So typical Yurio. Yuuri felt a squeeze on his hand, and lifted his head to look at Victor. It came as a total shock when he felt soft warm lips press again his forehead. They lingered there for what seemed like forever, though it couldn't have been over a few seconds. When he pulled away, Yuuri shot him a confused look. Victor didn't say anything; he just raised his eyebrows and nodded his head to the side. An amused glimmer appeared in his eyes as they looked to the side, and the Japanese man followed his gaze.

Yurio was staring, his mouth stuck open into a disgusted scowl, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed into a disgusted look. He could've sworn he looked like he was about to throw up. A smile appeared onto Yuuri's face at the look.

"You two are disgusting." He spat, turning around quickly and storming off. Laughter bubbled up inside his chest as he watched the moody boy stomp away, forcing its way out in restricted snorts. He met Victor's eyes; they too were brimming with tears. His face mirrored his own. The scrunched up look pushed this rising feeling in his chest over the top, and they both simultaneously burst into uncontrollable laughter. The sound was beautiful, harmonious music spilling from both of their mouths in sync. The jovial feeling inside him swelled with each laugh as he felt Victor grab onto his shoulder for support and he hunched over, breathless from the hysterics. As they calmed down, the louder guffaws fell to giggles, like two teenage girls at a sleepover.

"I bet..." Yuuri mustered between pants. "...had you done my lips...he would be had a stroke...."

"Probably..." Victor giggled, straightening up. "Or....a heart attack...."

"Yeah..." He breathed, catching his lost breath. "Oh I haven't laughed like that in too long."

"You remember the last time?" Victor snickered at the thought, while Yuuri's face fell.

"Oh don't remind me...." His face scrunched up at the thought of ramen noodles squirting out of his nose, the brief feeling of suffocation as it covered his breathing tubes and his fingers slipped trying to pull them out, all the while Victor was in hysterics, rolling across the floor. "I'm never eating ramen again." The Russian man sniggered at the thought, before howling into laughter again, this time ugly laughs that sounded like hiccups being what came from his chest.

"Oh...stop making me laugh...." He gasped, burying his face into Yuuri's locks. "You're going to kill me."

"Serves you right for bringing that up again." By this point the two had migrated to the men's locker room door. This was where Yuuri stopped, leaning up and pressing his lips to Victor's cheek. "I'll wait by the outside door." He whispered.

*time skip because I'm lazy af*

"Yuuri?"

"Hmm?"

"Where's your coat?" He gestured to the man, more specifically to the fact that he was wearing only a thin long-sleeved shirt and tight skinny jeans. Yuuri looked down, and smiled sheepishly.

"Forgotten on my bed at home." He muttered, engulfing Victor's gloved hand in his own. He scrunched his face, contorting a smirk.

"...And your suitcase?"

"...also in Hasetsu..." Victor laughed as they approached the door leading outside.

"One month without me and you're already forgetting things."

"Blame yourself; you're the one that kept me on a skype call until the last minute." As the doors slid open Yuuri almost stopped right then and there. If the wind was bad before, well, now it was absolute hell now. The wind that blew in might as well have been made of dry ice, penetrating the the thin fabric of Yuuri's shirt and attacking his skin with pins and needles. The chills that's shot down his spine prompted his arms to rise and hug his body in a futile attempt to retain some warmth. His hands began to numb almost immediately, and the backpack on his back suddenly felt as if it weighed tons. Victor slowed his pace, though it passed over the ravenette' s head. He watched as his breath rose from his mouth, spreading out into the night sky. It was the only thing that kept his mind away from the bone-numbing feeling. Taking a deep shaky breath, he tightened his grip.

Something soft suddenly shrouded him, a blanket of warmth draped over his shoulders and down his back. He looked up suddenly, to see that Victor was missing a certain item of clothing. His hand rose to feel what the soft pressure on his shoulder was, only to feel the soft material of Victor's red coat. It brought a sense of relief to his shivering frame, but only deepened his guilt.

"Victor....no, what...you need this more than me."  He pointed to Victor's skating costume, the top of which was mostly made of mesh that very proudly boasted his pale skin, while he struggled with the coat around his shoulders. A hand stopped his efforts.

"Yuuri, I've lived in Russia for 28 years, I'm used to the cold." Victor smiled at him, suppressing a shiver as the wind turned its fury against him. Yeah he had gotten used to the Russian winter. It still didn't mean he could walk out into the night without a coat. No sane person could do that. He bit the inside of his lip as the snowflakes that fell from the sky seeped their way through the opening in his costume. In a whim, he latched onto Yuuri's arm like a child startled by a movie.

"So..." Yuuri slowed they approached the taxi station. "This is where we part."

"What?" Victor stopped in his place, turning to look down at the man. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I have to go check into the hotel, and I'm pretty sure that's in the opposite direction of the train station and..."

"Wait...hotel?" Victor's voice began to quiver lightly. "Which one?"

"The...uh, Courtyard Marriot." He mumbled, pulling out his phone to look at the address. "It's a few miles away...."

"No." The sharp quick tone startled Yuuri, and he snapped his head from the phone to the taller Russian.

"What?"

"You're staying with me." He grasped his wrist and began to drag the man away from the lined up taxis.

"Wait but what about my reservation...."

"I'll get your money back. I'm Victor Nikiforov, after all." He boasted, continuing to drag the man behind him.

"But I don't have a train ticket...wait are you really ok with me staying with you?" Yuuri began to ramble nonsensically, going on and on about potential issues that may arise. Victor paused in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to face the man. He stared at his flushed cheeks, as his glasses slipped down his nose, as his hair ruffled in the wind. Rolling his eyes, he clasped his hands on his cheeks, stopping the ramble. Yuuri jumped, looking at the the sil— sorry, platinum-haired man.

"I'll handle it. You're coming with me." Yuuri opened his mouth to complain once more, but clamped it shut. At this point, he knew that arguing with Victor would be absolutely futile. The exhaustion from the jet lag was just starting to make itself known to his body, his limbs feeling like lead. And, though he'd never admit it out loud to preserve his dignity, spending the night with Victor sounded like a dream. So he gave in, reaching up to grab his hand and planting a soft kiss on the back of it. Victor took that as a confirmation and slowly began walking down the sidewalk, this time with his fiancé right by his side, leaned up against his side and embracing the warmth that came from his body. In the distance, the hotel Victor was staying at slowly came into view. It was a tall building, the outside gleaming as if it were made of marble. Yuuri stared at the building as they approached the entrance, his jaw falling open.

"How much did this cost...." Victor shrugged.

"It's only for one night."

~~~

Yeah I'm ending this right here.

Which means there will probably be a part 3, 4, and 5, since I have so many ideas on where to go from here.

But I'm so backed up with work that might not be for a while so.... ye.