Shall we dance?

This one has been mulling in my brain for a bit, and while I hate the idea of Yuri (Yuuri) hurting, I think this might be my favorite moment so far. This is post episode 9, pre 10 but after the moment I posted about them in the ice rink. (Good grief, I hope you could follow that!)

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Practice had been a special breed of horrible. The demons now screaming in Yuuri's mind were loud enough to drown out all external sound. Cupping his hands over his ears, he let his knees press all the air from his chest as he rocked on the floor by his bed.

It was there that Viktor had found his boyfriend, a shivering pile of anxiety banging his back repeatedly against his bed frame. Makkachin had been the first to rush to his aid, practically tearing the door off of the hinges to reach Yuuri. Viktor had always been convinced that Makkachin was a special sort of dog, but when his beloved poodle had sprung from the floor of the hot spring and rushed at full speed to Yuuri's door, Viktor had realized it was more than that. As Viktor had bonded with Yuuri, so had Makkachin, and Yuuri's anxiety had slowly become predictable to the brown fluff ball. Viktor had launched himself from the hot spring, grabbing only a towel as he chased Makkachin down the hallway and through Yuuri's door.

"My Yuuri," Viktor cooed, approaching the shaking mass of his boyfriend slowly. It was a constant worry of Viktor's that he would startle Yuuri mid-panic and the young man would have a heart attack. Continuing to speak low, loving words, Viktor lowered himself to the floor, quietly slipping an arm around Yuuri and pulling him into Viktor's damp lap. There were times when Yuuri's anxiety was so high that touching him could be a dangerous risk. It seemed tonight that Yuuri needed to be comforted, held, loved, and stroked back to reality. Viktor was happy to oblige in the coddling of the man he loved so dearly, even if his own heart was aching painfully in his chest reminding him how closely knit their emotions had become.

It was like talking himself off a ledge, but Yuuri had long ago realized that he couldn't get himself there on his own. Until Viktor had convinced him that love was worth the risk, Yuuri had been wrongly stubborn about his need to hide this part of him. As he lay with his ear on Viktor's bare chest, sandwiched between damp skin and panting fur, Yuuri began to feel grounded in reality. Part of him wanted to stay there, never moving from the security of what had become his tiny family. The other part of him wanted to move. Not in a defiant way, but in a way to release the pressure. He needed music and movement to shake loose the doom that was crashing upon him in waves.

At Yuuri's request, Viktor sent a message to Minako asking to borrow the studio. He eased Yuuri off his lap, leaving Makkachin to continue to provide comfort. Intending to slip from the room, he paused when Yuuri whispered his name.

"Viktor?" The voice was small and feeble, splintering Viktor's heart with every syllable. "Could you borrow something of mine? I'm scared to let you leave."

The tears threatening his eyes burned against his eyelids as Viktor slammed them shut. Yuuri needed him to be strong right now, to concentrate on Yuuri's emotions above his own. The breaking of his heart over the pain in his love's voice would have to mend itself without assistance. "Of course," he replied lightly, turning around to smile down at Yuuri, "your clothes smell like you and I love how you smell." Viktor saw the blush and a wink of a smile appear on Yuuri's face. When Yuuri had worked himself into a blind panic, the only way through was to chip at the ice walls of Yuuri's anxiety igloo. Padding around the room which had long ago been memorized, Viktor slid on sweat pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Unlike Viktor's sweats, Yuuri's had little braided ties that hung loose from the waist. Something about them fascinated Viktor and he always borrowed these particular pants whenever Yuuri would let him.

As the clouds parted around Yuuri's mind, he let the smile escape watching Viktor toy with the white strings of Yuuri's sweatpants on Viktor's body. He loved that he knew before Viktor had chosen them that this would be the pair he would choose. Even with the anxiety pounding against him, he could see Viktor in front of him, a bright spot guiding him back to what was real. Viktor's patience had changed the way Yuuri fought his demons, and although he was far from achieving a final release from his anxiety, he knew that Viktor wouldn't give up on him mid-fight. It allowed Yuuri to cry when he needed to and hide when there was nothing else left. Viktor and Makkachin always found him though, throwing light into the darkest parts of him and reminding him that fighting alone was no longer an option. Resolved, Yuuri kissed Makkachin on the head and rose to his feet.

Cautiously, Viktor reached for Yuuri's hand, winding their fingers together. As they walked through the hallway, none of Yuuri's family dared to speak to them or approach them, with the exception of Mari who slipped a bottle of sake into the gym bag attached to Viktor's hip. Silently they left the house, Makkachin quietly parading ahead of them, headed for Minako's studio.

It was unlocked when they reached the doors and unoccupied, however, the lights were on which meant Minako herself had prepped the room for them before leaving. The familiar smell of floor polish swept over Yuuri and he let it surrounded him, concentrating on the peace he always found in this place. They still hadn't spoken much, but Yuuri wasn't concerned. He had read somewhere that the sign of real happiness with another person was not needing to fill every second with conversation to be comfortable. If that was true, Viktor created the most happiness in his life that he had ever known.

Music filled the studio as Viktor returned to his side, remote tucked into the pocket of his sweats. Without a word, Viktor removed the bottle of sake and offered it to Yuuri. He wouldn't allow Yuuri to practice for most of tomorrow anyway, so why not add alcohol to the mix? As a coach, the suggestion was ludicrous, but as Yuuri's friend and partner, Viktor was hopeful it would bring Yuuri out of his head, even for a little while.

Yuuri boldly snapped the bottle from Viktor's fingers, drinking more than his fair share without lowering the bottle. It hit him hard and he struggled to remain in control of his facial expressions. He hadn't drank in quite some time, knowing that his actions were always questionable while under the influence, but tonight he felt safe giving in, knowing that Viktor would be there. He handed the bottle to Viktor and watched as he gingerly lifted it to drink the remaining contents. It wouldn't be long before they were both a mess, potentially unable to return to the house. Glancing around, Yuuri noted the fully-prepped futon in the corner of the studio. It appeared that Minako didn't expect them to leave tonight either.

Viktor watched as Yuuri's shoulders relaxed, reaching a hand out to massage away the remaining tension. When Yuuri moaned, the effects of the alcohol swirled the sound through Viktor's brain, encouraging him forward to wrap his arms around Yuuri. Fingers caressing the taut muscles of Yuuri's back, Viktor whispered in his ear, "shall we dance?"

That was all the encouragement Yuri needed to straighten his back and pull Viktor into a proper dance frame. Viktor may have the strength to lift him on the ice, but Yuuri was going to work out his nervous tension by leading Viktor around on the dance floor. It hadn't been that long ago that Yuuri would have shut down following a practice as horrible as the one from that day. With Viktor though, he was learning new ways to combat the dark oppression of his brain, including learning to engage in situations where Yuuri could remain in absolute control. Dancing, especially with Viktor, had become one of his favorite tools to banish the darkness from his mind.

Viktor's body was vibrating with the feeling of Yuuri controlling their dance. Yuuri guided with implied demand, never losing sight of his eyes or missing a step. As they spun across the floor, Viktor felt the hand slip into position and before he could voice concern, Yuuri had lifted him in the air, with his shoulders arched back toward his feet. His body easily recalled the feeling of Yuuri dominating him on the dance floor and absolutely ached for it to never stop. He melted into Yuuri, letting him use Viktor's body as a release of stress, letting Yuuri guide him wherever he pleased. A sigh escaped as he watched Yuuri begin to soften, the deep lines in his forehead disappearing as the soft smile took their place. This was when Yuuri was his most beautiful and Viktor drank in the image like a desert stranded man drinking water for the first time.

Together they moved seamlessly through the room, covering every inch of the wooden dance floor. They were a mesmerizing blur of body parts, no evidence of where one man stopped and the other began. The music swirled around them, providing mere background noise to the beauty of the story being told through their movements. Their love was being painted through the room, a tapestry of growth and strength that had been intricately woven between their lives. Individually they had scores of accomplishments and accolades, but their personal lives lacked color. Together, their worlds exploded unable to contain the amount of love and inspiration exponentially growing with every second spent entangled.

When the song faded and another began, they paused, holding each other with chests panting clumsily pressed together. The song that had been Viktor's, which Yuuri had copied calling Viktor to his side, had become theirs, and now it filled the room with the electricity of their bond. Although they weren't on the ice, they began to move through the room, dancing instead of skating, never more than a breath apart. When they separated briefly their eyes stayed locked, watching every movement the other made.

Yuuri's chest swelled, the panic had vanished replaced only by the overwhelmingly intense love for the man dancing in beat with him. He had forgotten to feel self-conscious, forgotten that dancing hadn't always been something he shared with the world. In that moment, Viktor was the whole world and Yuuri wanted nothing more than to continue to share this dance with him. Breaking routine, Yuuri reached for Viktor's hand, spinning him in a forceful but delicate way back to Yuuri's body. When their noses touched, Yuuri angled his face, stealing the kiss from Viktor's lips with a smile.

There had been so many times that Viktor had been knocked senseless by Yuuri's power and beauty. He felt in that moment, in the need and passion pouring from Yuuri into him, that his heart was going to overflow and burst. Had life ever felt like this before Yuuri? Viktor had spent most of his hours waiting for Yuuri to return to Japan analyzing that exact thought, knowing the answer was a resounding no. Yuuri had turned the light on in his life. His anxious, insecure, frustrating Yuuri had lit his world on fire. That fire was consuming Viktor in an addictive way, in a way that Viktor had resolved to never live without. He had made a decision during those long hours after Makkachin was deemed to be okay and before Yuuri launched himself into Viktor's arms in the terminal. It was a decision that would keep Yuuri in his life forever, in the exact way Viktor wanted him to be. He hadn't been kidding when he had mentioned a marriage proposal to Yuuri, and Yuuri's blushingly bright smile had done nothing to deter Viktor from his course. Barcelona would change their lives and their relationship forever.

Somehow while both of them were lost in sensation, they had found themselves toppling onto the futon, arms and legs entwined as they landed softly on the bed. Viktor's hand held the back of Yuuri's head, fingers lost in the tangle of black hair. In the back of Viktor's mind, he made a mental note to brush the mess away, but it quickly faded when he felt Yuuri's fingers slip passed the hem of his sweatpants. Pulling away so his face hovered over Yuuri's, Viktor raised a seductive eyebrow, "is your plan to defile Minako's dance studio?" Viktor couldn't contain his laugh at the instant blush across Yuuri's cheeks. "Too vulgar for my sweet Yuuri's ears?"

Viktor was teasing him, an act that could equally annoy and entice Yuuri. Fueled by the alcohol swimming in his veins and his heightened arousal from dancing, Yuuri's brain encouraged him to throw Viktor off his game. Moving quickly, he flipped Viktor on his back, holding back his laughter at the surprised noise that escaped his boyfriend. Viktor had worked hard to teach Yuuri about his eros, and Yuuri thought it was time to use it against Viktor in a real way. Without the ice between them and thousands of people watching, there was nothing to cool the sizzling heat between them. "Never take your eyes off of me," Yuuri whispered, moving over Viktor.

This man is going to be the death of me, Viktor sighed internally for what had to be the hundredth since meeting Yuuri Katsuki. But he knew, beyond a doubt, that he would die happy.