#like babes no it's not. thanks for the unhealthy view of intimate relationships though it sure won't suck major ass to unlearn all this <3

[nowendil]

:/

[life-love-and-alcohol]

Did somebody say FLUFF??

No, no one did. I have no friends.

But I wrote anyways so here u have it. 

To say Yuuri was tired wouldn't have been the proper chose of words.

 No, it wasn't enough, it needed more force, more emphasis...Exhausted? Maybe, it sounded better. But it was still incomplete. It still lacked a certain something, a certain feeling of fatigue, and maybe a few more kilos on his heavy lids...

 Yuuri felt like dying.

 Yes, that was the term he was looking for. Yuuri was dying.

 He had never worked so hard in his entire life. Never had woken up at six, only to squeeze himself into his skating clothes and gulp down his breakfast in unhealthy speeds, and going jogging with his stomach still full for an hour to warm up his muscles. He had to make sure he was standing at the edge of the ice rink before the clock hit eight. Viktor didn't like it when he got to the rink and Yuuri wasn't already there, with his skates on, waiting for him.

 "Back when I was a competitive skater..." he always said, as if he hadn't retired just some months ago "...by the time you wake up in the mornings, I was already practicing quadruples and..."

 The funny thing was that he spoke as if they hadn't been married for years, and as if Yuuri hadn't witnessed that all the stuff he said, wasn't exactly true.

 He actually missed those days when they were both still in competition. It had been barely last season, and yet it felt like an eternity of time, a way too distant feeling of warmness he could only invoke in memories.

 As a coach, Viktor wasn't nearly as fun than as a rink mate. He might have been goofy and fun, but he was actually really demanding too. He was just as obsessed with the idea of gold as Yuuri was, and he wouldn't rest until he saw his husband on the top of the podium.

 Only that, from the podium, his poor husband fell directly onto bed; trying to ingratiate with his own wretched body until his head stopped spinning and his muscles ceased burning.

 After every competition, Yuuri felt drained. He wasn't as young as he used to be. Time added candles to his birthday cakes and new noises and aches to his joints as he stretched. And he knew that, in the term of one year or two, he would be just where Viktor was right then: from the other side of the rink's railing, standing on solid ground.

 That's why he pushed himself past his limits, too. That's why he let Viktor squeeze more and more training into his crowded schedule, force him into a strict diet, and cut out his hours of sleep. That’s why he didn’t mind when he felt like dying.

 Those may have been the last years at the sport, his sport. Their sport. And he wanted to seize them to the fullest.

 However, that didn't change he was shattered.

 And it wasn't only training what tired Yuuri out, no, it was way more than that. If there was one thing that managed to drain every drop of remaining energy from him after a long day, was dealing with paparazzi.

 Don't get him wrong, he was always very kind and answered all the questions about his routines with no complaints. There were a bunch of gossip magazines that liked to ask him on his relationship with Viktor as well, but he had also (somehow) got used to those too.

 But sometimes, what he saw as he left the rink after a competition, weren't reporters but a damn horde.

 Being an introvert person, he wasn't comfortable with being in the center of a camera circle, squished between hurried legs and bumping shoulders, with a thousand microphones pointing at his face.

 He usually managed to slide away in the shadows, escape the multitude before someone recognized him and pushed him into an unwanted interrogation. But there were other days where the crowd would suck him in like the sea's current and there were no more vital signs from Yuuri Katsuki for hours but the televised picture of his exhausted face.

 That day had been one of those days.

 The worst part was that, instead of answering the usual questions about his routines and his passion, he had been forced to talk about something rather intimate instead. And no, it didn't have to do with Viktor, at all. It had to do with himself:

 His retirement.

 Reporters didn't seem to mind pressing a finger on the sore. And, by the end of the day, Yuuri's brain was suffering short-circuit.

 When he finally managed to run away from the microphones and his own insecurities, he hopped onto the rented car where Yurio, Yakov and Viktor were already waiting for him to get back to the hotel. How Yurio had got away from the mob before him, he had no idea. He didn't care, either.

 Right then, with the lulling sway of the car's engine and the heat and perfume emanating from his husband right next to him, all he cared about, was resting.

 "Tough day, huh?" Viktor chuckled, as he saw him rest his head on his shoulder.

 Yuuri barely hummed in agreement, feeling his lids already getting sticky with slumber, and the noise of the street beginning to fade away.

 "Is he asleep? Already??" Yurio tried to get a peek of his face, but it was hard to see when it was buried so deeply onto the other's coat. The way his shoulders were slowly raising and dropping though, together with the light snoring, were more than enough evidence "Pathetic"

 Vikotr shushed him, wanting to keep Yuuri from waking up, since he felt fairly responsible for his exhaustion. He shifted his body kindly, with the delicacy and tactfulness he had only ever cared to show on the ice, wanting to make sure his husband was comfortable and that nothing interrupted his sleep.

 "Lower your voice, Yura" he said, tracing his fingers through dark, gelled hair "the trip is quite long, and he needs some rest"

 "Ugh, can't you wait till we get to the hotel to be loving and disgusting?" Yurio added, turning to look through the window and away from the cuddling couple.

 However, as he was about to allow his mind to get lost in the view, he heard quite an odd noise coming from behind his back.

 "What's that?" he asked, perking his ears to catch the babbling slipping through Yuuri's dozed lips.

 "Oh, he sometimes talks in his sleep" Viktor chuckled softly, the vibration of his laughter causing his sleeping beauty to move a little as he continued with his mumbling "Poor thing" he said, tucking a lock of hair away from his itching nose "he only does that when he's really exhausted"

 "What is he saying, anyways?"

 Both of them made silence, attention fully set on the senseless mouthing.

 "Hmm...no...I don't....I don't know, miss"

 "Oh, he's talking in English" Viktor said, surprised "most times he just mumbles Japanese"

 "But what is he talking about?" Yurio insisted, getting nearer.

 "Please no...I won't...answer that, miss"

 "He's dreaming about the reporters, whoa, he surely is stressed" His husband debated if he should maybe wake him up, since he didn't deserve to be troubled even in his sleep. But then he realized that would have been even worst, and decided to try another strategy instead. Slowly, he leaned in and warmly whispered into his ear: "Yuuri??"

 "What are you doing?" Yurio stared, rolling his eyes at the sweet affection on the other's voice "Didn't you say you would let him sleep?"

 However, Viktor ignored him.

 "Yuuri, calm down, it's ok" He murmured gently, watching the small, confused frown forming between his brows "Can you hear me, Yuuri?"

 "I hear you, miss....but I can't answer that question...please don't..."

 "No, Yuuri" Viktor giggled, trying to muffle the noise. Even Yurio laughed a bit, staring in disbelief "I'm no miss, it's me"

 "You...who?"

 "Santa Claus" Yurio replied mischievously, and Viktor pushed him away, not missing the way Yuuri sulked uncomfortably.

 "What...hmm...why does Santa..."

 "I'm not Santa, babe. It's me, Viktor"

 "Vitya?"

 His heart went from beating solid to boiling liquid in about two seconds.

 "Yes, love. I'm here"

 "Oh...thank god"

 Viktor chortled, caressing his face with his knuckles, noticing how his expression began to relax.

 Yurio kept silent this time, pretending disinterest, as he stared with the corner of his eye.

 "Did they ask too many questions? Where they torturing you, love?" what started with sincere, kind intentions, turned into a laughing matter as Viktor tried to get advantage of  his drowsy vulnerability "Tell me, Yuuri, what happened"

 The poor guy nodded in his sleep, and his husband had to bite his lip as not to squeal from the adorableness.

 "They asked...many questions...I..." He mumbled, shifting a bit "...they were rude"

 "I bet they were"

 "Hm...but you are here..."

 "Of course I am" Viktor fooled around, enjoying the whole situation much more than he really should "I needed to save you from the press, after all"

 "Ah...thank you" Yuuri smiled, sinking further onto his hold "hmm...I love you"

 And that, ladies and gentleman, is how Viktor Nikiforov broke.

 "AIIISHH I LOVE YOU TOO" He screamed, taking his husband's face between his hands and kissing him everywhere. Mouth, nose, cheeks, forehead...no place was safe from the assault "YOU ARE SO CUTE OH MY GOD"

 "Uh?" Confused, Yuuri woke up. He blinked clumsily, batting his heavy lids, and trying to understand where he was and what was the fuss all about "What?"

 "You woke him up, you fucking idiot!" Yurio complaint, pointing at the puzzled ball of slumber.

 "Why is he...?" Talking and breathing were both difficult with the attack of eager kisses cutting him off "What happened?"

 “Aww, Yuuri!” Viktor exclaimed, rubbing their cheeks together affectionately "You just said you loved me in your sleep!"

 "Hmn...don't I say it enough while I'm awake?"

 "You two are repulsive" Yurio bickered, turning back to stare at the window again "Ugh, don't even talk to me"

 "Hmm, Vitya?" Yuuri yawned "what time is it?"

 "It doesn't matter" he answered, kissing the top of his head and hugging him against his chest again "go back to sleep, love. I'll wake you up once we get to the hotel"

 "Oh...ok" he mumbled, resting his head on the other's shoulder, and taking in a big breath "Thank you"

 "You are welcome" Viktor smiled, cuddling against his sleepy husband "I love you, too"

 Yes, Yuuri was tired, Yuuri was exhausted, and Yuuri felt like dying.

 But Yuuri was also in love, both with the sport and with the man who had pushed him through it. And when Yuuri was in love, just like on the ice, he was unstoppable.