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"Excuse me," Yuuri says for perhaps the fiftieth time, veering off to the side with a glass of champagne in hand. Only his second, he'd assured Phichit, who'd still seemed concerned Yuuri might sit alone and drink champagne all evening.
I'm not that bad, he consoles himself, sipping lightly at his glass. Besides, he has a high alcohol tolerance, and Yuuri has watched more than a few people who definitely shouldn't have gone for that next glass do exactly that. The noise level seems to have risen the more he's watched people drink, and yet here Yuuri remains, on his second glass of champagne with nothing more to say than Excuse me every few minutes, careful not to stay in one spot for too long lest someone make it their mission to 'rescue' him; the last such attempt had ended in one of the bridesmaids crying on Yuuri's shoulder over her boyfriend dumping her the day before.
"You have the sort of face that says hey, I'm here to listen," Phichit tries. When Yuuri only stares, he sighs, patting Yuuri's shoulder. "Well, weddings make people emotional."
That had been about fifteen minutes ago, and Yuuri's just finished his champagne. He should get another one, but not too quickly. He's also attempting to calculate each sweep of the room not to occur too close together, not that anyone is paying close enough attention to mete out a pattern. Or at least, he hopes.
Yuuri sighs heavily, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes. It's not that he hates people, but situations like these - how is he meant to know how to deal with a wedding, even if he is happy for JJ and Isabella - surrounded by people he barely knows, bar a few, are more a chore than anything.
A quick glance around, and then Yuuri's pulling out his phone. Plenty of people have their own out, taking pictures and video, so it's not that big of a deal - but again, Yuuri's careful not to keep it out for too long. "You're being weird," Phichit complains when Yuuri mentions this, but he doesn't offer any suggestions for making Yuuri feel less awkward or out of place.
Not that it's his fault, of course. Yuuri's plenty awkward around people he doesn't know on his own, and he stifles another sigh as he goes back to reading the increasingly volatile comment thread on this article. How far has he fallen? He tries not to stare at the time in the corner too much.
Before long his phone is shoved back in his pocket, a third glass of champagne is in hand, and Yuuri spots one of the smaller tables in the distance, miraculously unattended. He hurries over with purpose, the sigh that leaves his lips this time content as he sits down.
Maybe it's just mental, but this glass tastes a little better than the previous two. Yuuri drains half of it before digging around for his phone again as he surveys the room.
It hasn't been all bad. Yuuri's laughed and taken some photo and video of his own, done some catching up with people he hasn't seen in some time, and of course, gotten to congratulate the bride and groom. If there were just half the amount of guests, Yuuri might say he's having a nice time.
He spots Sara getting dragged to dance by her brother - again - leaving Phichit with his hands over his heart in mock betrayal. Yuuri smiles, watching Chris swoop in, and he wonders if he's offering to take her place. Either way, they're both laughing, and then there's Victor, dancing with - Mia? Maya? - Yuuri feels bad for not knowing her name, but there are lots of names he's forgotten. Besides, they've never properly met, nor have he and Victor, for that matter. He realizes he's staring a little too long when the music stops, and hastily brings his eyes back down to his phone.
It takes a few moments to realize something has gone horribly wrong. His phone, which has been his savior, has apparently died. Its battery, which Yuuri had trusted to get him through a few more hours, has given up on him. He tries not to break into a cold sweat, tapping frantically at the screen after having no luck with the power button. How could this happen? A wedding is supposed to be a joyous event, a symbol of happiness and hope, not a sordid den of betrayal.
So dismayed is he by this development that he fails to pay the proper amount of attention to what's happening around him - the movement in his peripheral vision, the oof of someone plopping down, and, most distracting of all -
"Sorry, hope you don't mind," comes the smooth voice, and Yuuri raises his head slowly, takes in the sight of Victor at the seat across the table. He runs a hand through his hair, smiling apologetically as he continues, "I need a little break."
And well, Yuuri supposes he would, since he's been talking and dancing the whole time Yuuri's been skulking and prowling. He tries not to choke as he responds, "N-no, of course." He takes a quick sip of champagne. "It's fine."
Victor's smile brightens, just a bit. Maybe Yuuri's imagining it? His head's buzzing a little, but he's certain it's not the champagne. He continues tapping at his phone as his heart thunders, the futile efforts apparently capturing Victor's attention.
“Yuuri, is it? I'm Victor." Yuuri nods slowly, surprised Victor would remember his name. They've never actually met properly, after all. "You’ve been quite busy,” he says, nodding toward the phone cradled pathetically in Yuuri's hands. When he continues to stare blankly, Victor adds, "You've been on your phone a lot."
Yuuri stays silent while Victor crosses his legs, the cut of his grey suit terribly flattering; he must have gotten it professionally fitted or something, that's a thing that people do, Yuuri knows. Yuuri's own suit is quite plain, off of the rack in some store he can't even remember the name of, not now. Now, he's busy trying not to choke - again - when he considers that despite all of his efforts, someone had noticed what he's been up to; not just someone, but Victor, who sits there unassuming, pleasant, ready to make light conversation with this person he doesn't know but has found himself sharing a table with.
"My battery died," Yuuri finally replies, holding it up for Victor to see the blank screen. That makes him laugh, the humor crinkling his face only making him more handsome. Yuuri downs the rest of his glass swiftly, pushing it away from him once he's done. His phone lies on the table, the only barrier between himself and the man he's found his eyes drifting back to all evening. Now that he's right here, however, Yuuri doesn't know what to do.
"You can use mine," he offers kindly, making a motion toward his pocket. Yuuri practically snaps his head off in his haste to decline the offer, unwilling to swipe through an internet argument while Victor sits there amiably, thinking he's helped with something important.
"It's fine," he repeats. He's not sure what's fine, but this situation isn't one he'd categorize as anything close to it. "You've been busy too," he says, only realizing afterward that he's admitted to noticing what Victor's been up to, as well. Why does it seem so much more dire than the other way around?
And yet, Victor smiles again. It's a rather dashing smile, and he must know it, has probably been told a thousand different times. There's no reason for Yuuri to think it'd please him to hear it.
"To tell you the truth, I've been looking for a chance to escape, but it's difficult in a setting like this." He glances around, and Yuuri does too, despite knowing what he'll see - people being dragged to dance, to get in a picture, pulled over to share a story - and well, knowing that it's not just him that finds it all rather exhausting helps Yuuri feel a bit more at ease.
"Don't worry, I'll do my best to hide you," he jokes. He waves his phone around once more, gesturing to the screen. "See what an animated conversation we're having? No one would dare interrupt."
A different sort of smile curls at Victor's lips, a little less controlled than the other flashy ones. Yuuri feels rather proud when Victor covers his mouth with a hand, glancing off to the side.
He brings his chin to rest in that very hand in one smooth motion a few moments later. "You're quite right," he says, leaning forward in his seat. With the other hand, he reaches out to take Yuuri's phone.
Yuuri would be lying to himself if he tried to pretend the brief heat of Victor's fingers against his hadn't made his heart skip a beat, but he manages not to drop the phone, nonetheless. He watches Victor's brows furrow in mock concentration as he stares at the blank screen.
The absurdity of the situation before him is somehow the very thing that keeps Yuuri from fully grasping it. He and Victor are pretending to have a conversation, but also sort of are? - nothing of substance, but the way Victor looks at him, he can't help feel like something of substance is happening. Absurd.
Weddings make people emotional.
Yuuri flushes. Why hadn't he brought a few extra champagne glasses to the table, since he'd planned on camping out here awhile?
Before long, Victor is sliding the phone back toward him on the tablecloth. "Truly incredible. I see why you had to drag me away to show me that." And with that, a wink, an honest to god wink. Yuuri really, really needs another drink.
"I didn't drag you away," he says instead. Victor isn't flirting, right? So it's okay if Yuuri doesn't flirt back. "If I remember correctly, you're the one who fell into my lap."
His ears are burning, but the remark earns him another one of those smiles; cute, if he lets himself think it - he doesn't, of course, as it may be okay to admit to himself that Victor is good-looking, but cute is a whole nother thing. A far, far more dangerous thing. So why does Victor make no move to hide his face this time?
Those light eyes are shining, a little bit of color in Victor's cheeks as he laughs. "I must be honest, Yuuri, I feel quite lucky to have you all to myself right now."
Yuuri lets out a sound between a nervous laugh and a splutter, somehow managing to turn it into a cough at the end. Victor's eyes are twinkling with mischief, and Yuuri now only wants more champagne in order to throw it over his head.
"You're about to be by yourself in a minute," he threatens, straightening his glasses unnecessarily. He doesn't miss the way Victor's eyes follow the motion. What is happening? "Then you'll get pulled into that dance battle they've been trying to get going for the past half hour." Yuuri jerks his head in the direction of some of the noisier guests; it appears no one is quite drunk enough yet to accept the initial challenge set forth by one of them.
"Never!" Victor shakes his head vigorously. "It would be rude to crush their dreams when I wipe the floor with them." So full of himself. Why does Yuuri want to tease that he would be the one to win?
"Besides, after I went through all the trouble of falling into your lap, the least you could do is oblige me a little longer." A cheeky grin, one that curls into something more lazy and sweet the longer Victor's gaze remains on him. Yuuri's struggles not to make any other embarrassing sounds. Is Victor drunk? That would make sense, would probably be the only valid explanation for anything that's happened since Victor had sat down at his table.
Still, the fact remains Victor had sat down at his table, had noticed him, has taken the time to carry on a conversation and maybe-sort-of flirt with him a little. Yuuri's reading into it too much, probably, but the buzz around the edges of his mind is pleasant, the thrum of excitement in his fingertips so lovely, that Yuuri finds he doesn't care.
"I suppose I can put up with you a bit more," he says, eyebrows crinkling as he pretends to weigh his options. It's difficult to keep a serious expression when Victor pouts so openly. The light feeling in his chest expands, and Yuuri can't believe how much he's enjoying himself.
And he is, he's having fun, being silly and a whole lot bolder than he would normally. How much time has passed, with Victor here? Suddenly he's anxious at the prospect of the evening ending, a realization that sends a self-conscious heat burning its way down the back of his neck.
Luckily Victor doesn't seem to notice. In fact, it seems he's distracted by his own phone. Yuuri tries not to be nosy, really he does, but it looks like Victor is repeatedly declining calls one after another. If he squints, it appears to be the same person dialing each time, but Yuuri can't quite make out the name. Something about the whole thing, the same name appearing, Victor swiftly tapping the red decline button without hesitation, makes Yuuri want to laugh, but he's not sure it's appropriate. His lip curls in an attempt to hide his amusement, and naturally, this is the moment Victor's gaze shifts upwards.
"You'd think they'd get the hint after the first three times," he says, apparently making no effort to hide what's ensued. With a long sigh, he finally shoves the phone back into his pocket. "I should just turn it off, then we'd be even."
Yuuri doesn't bother trying to hide his smile then. "It's fine if you have to take the call," he says, before biting his tongue. Had he made it sound like Victor had been refusing the call for Yuuri's sake? He doesn't want to assume. "Unless you'd rather not," he adds lamely.
"Of course I'd rather not," Victor replies, shifting a little. Even the smallest movement seems to carry an underlying grace, Yuuri can't help but notice; his gaze roams freely, without his permission. It isn't long before he brings his eyes back to Victor's face, something squeezing in his chest once he does. Victor tilts his head to the side, smiling. "You look like there's something on your mind."
Of course there is, he mimics Victor's reply in his mind. A hundred different things, all weaving into a tangled mess he doesn't think he'd ever be able to sort out. A new song starts up, louder than the previous one, or maybe it's just Victor's smile that's causing the roar in his ears.
"I was just reliving JJ singing on stage," he says, delighting in the way Victor's eyes widen. "I know the man should be allowed to do whatever he wants on his own wedding day, but he took it too far."
Victor is openly laughing now, one hand clasped over his chest. "Yuuri! That isn't nice!" His eyes are twinkling as he leans in conspiratorially. "I heard Isabella threatened to divorce him afterward."
Yuuri fights to hold back his own laugh. "You're kidding! I actually thought she looked surprisingly into it." And she had, or so Yuuri had thought. They're still made for each other, either way.
"Okay, I lied," Victor concedes. "But I would have divorced him after a stunt like that."
"Would you really?" Yuuri's grinning so wide he's afraid his cheeks might start to hurt. "I thought you were cheering him on, too."
Victor purses his lips. "Well, it was like a train wreck by that point. I got swept up in it." He wags a finger at Yuuri. "And what, may I ask, were you doing when all of this went down?"
Filming it and trying not to die laughing. Yuuri's fingers itch to cover his phone, like its darkened screen will somehow give him away. "Planning my performance, but his was so good I knew I couldn't compare."
He maintains a straight face, somehow, his delight only growing when Victor laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners. Why does catching Victor off guard, making him laugh like this, bring Yuuri so much satisfaction? Warm and intoxicating, it swoops and curls around the pit of his stomach, makes his head spin and heart soar.
"How have we not talked before?" Victor asks when he regains himself. He leans back in his seat, such an easy smile on his handsome face, like there's nowhere else he'd rather be. Yuuri's glad the music is loud enough to mask the thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat.
"I don't know," he replies, leaning back a little in turn. He glances downward at his phone still lying uselessly on the table. A more suitable question seems to be How are we having this conversation now? "I guess we just didn't have the opportunity. Kept missing each other."
That answer gives Victor pause. "Dancing around each other, huh." The look in his eyes is a little more serious, but he's still smiling. Yuuri can't help but smile back.
"And now we could actually be dancing together," he jokes, tapping his fingers to match the beat of the song, one he doesn't know the name to but has heard often enough. He doesn't mean anything by it, their conversation light until now, but the words hang heavy in the air. Something stutters in his chest, twists and coils in his stomach, urging him to make the offer a real one - Victor, dance with me.
The internal struggle distracts him; by the time he looks to Victor for his reaction, he sees his eyes have lit up, inexplicably. Each thud of Yuuri's heart seems enough to be the catalyst to a fatal heart attack, but here he is, still alive. Both of Victor's hands are upon the table as he leans forward, beaming.
"You're right!" Determination glints in his eyes, makes Yuuri's mouth turn dry. "Yuuri, will you dance with me?" he asks, one palm upturned. An obvious invitation, if his words weren't. And surely, surely Yuuri must be going crazy because this wedding had been near a disaster until just half an hour ago, and now he's about to dance with Victor.
About to dance, because Yuuri's reached out and accepted that hand, wrapped his own around it and answered, "I'd love to." Is he beaming? It certainly feels like it, rising from the table with their hands still linked together.
They don't make it very far before Victor spins to face him, and from far away Yuuri hears the soft tinkle of laughter, the light rumble of voices, all of it feeling rather insignificant at the moment. Had it really seemed so loud, so overbearing, before?
The music breaks, and Yuuri whips his head around in a sudden panic, only to see the band preparing for their next song. Victor's soft chuckle makes his cheeks warm, and he waits a moment to turn back.
"Your tie is awful," Victor says conversationally, and really, Yuuri's heart is already trying to burst from his chest. How is he meant to bear with Victor's teasing?
He scowls, even as Victor runs a finger along the fabric. "You shouldn't insult people and smile like that at the same time," he scolds. Besides, it's not like Yuuri'd had a lot of options in the tie department.
Victor only smiles wider. "How do you propose I stop, when I'm about to dance with the most handsome man in the room?"
The music restarts in the middle of Victor's sentence, but the words ring loud in Yuuri's ears, in his heart, and deciding not to drown his sorrows in champagne suddenly seems like the best choice he's ever made. Still, how is he meant to answer a statement like that?
He doesn't, yet. It briefly occurs to him he'd left his phone back on the table, but Victor's hand is about his waist and his eyes are sparkling and Yuuri honestly doesn't mind. He places a hand near Victor's shoulder, solid and broad, and tries to resist the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, lean close and breathe in the scent of his cologne, to lay a kiss to his neck. Stop it, he tells himself, then to Victor, "You're used to leading, right?"
"Yes," he admits. They're still just standing there, touching, and Yuuri wonders if anyone's watching them. He finds he doesn't mind that, either. "We can alternate," Victor offers, his grip a little more secure around Yuuri's waist. Let's share more than one dance is what Yuuri hears, and he nods swiftly, heart light.
Their joined hands rise, and then they're moving, Victor's smile so dazzling he finds himself unable to look away. Each step feels like floating, an easy rhythm, like they've been dancing together all night instead of for the first time. It's like falling and flying all at the same time, improbable but real, as real as Victor's hands guiding him along.
The tempo slows, and Victor leans in, lips close to Yuuri's ear. "I'm quite upset with you, Yuuri," he murmurs. His cheek is cool, breath warm. Yuuri's heartbeat flutters against his rib cage. "Why haven't we been doing this all evening?"
"I was thinking the same thing," he says. Victor is obviously pleased, his grip tightening on Yuuri's hand as he spins them about. Yuuri lets his other hand shift from Victor's shoulder to cradle his neck, thumb brushing against the skin there before it dips beneath his collar. Victor takes a deep breath. From this close, it's easy to see, easy enough to feel it rattling in his own chest.
One dance turns into two, three; they slip from Victor leading to Yuuri, back and forth, heedless of the songs changing, and Yuuri knows they must have drawn some attention, but for now, Victor is his, and his alone.
"Would you sing on stage for me, Yuuri?" he asks, lips stretched in a smile. Yuuri considers dipping him backward, but doesn't.
"Never," he replies, but if he's honest, he'd consider it, if it meant having Victor's eyes on him like this. Victor takes it in stride, lets Yuuri spin him and draw him back in close. Never, except I'd probably do it if you asked me to in exchange for the next dance. He wonders if Victor would do the same.
They pull apart when the band announces a break. Only then does Yuuri realize how quick his breaths are coming, how hard his heart's pounding. He could go for a glass of water, but the look on Victor's face, like Yuuri's some wonderful treasure to behold, serves just as well.
His lips part, and whatever he'd been about to say gets lost. Chris and JJ are at Victor's side, Chris clapping at his shoulder and berating the sort of people who would try to steal the spotlight at another man's wedding. Yuuri's cheeks burn so hot he almost doesn't notice Phichit laughing at his own side.
"Come on Yuuri, I want another drink," he says, dragging Yuuri away. He casts a look back to find Victor's brow creased in irritation as JJ jabs him in the ribs. Well, of the two options, Yuuri would certainly rather be cornered by Phichit.
"What was all that!" Phichit demands as he procures two glasses for them. "I didn't even know you guys knew each other."
Yuuri still feels like he's in a daze. He takes his time sipping from his own glass while Phichit eyes him. We don't, but things have changed. The glass almost slips from his fingers.
"I don't know," is all he can say. His eyes rove over the crowd, only half paying attention to the dance off that is apparently now about to actually take place. Still, he doesn't spot the silver head of hair he's looking for, and Phichit doesn't bother hiding a huff of disbelief.
"That's the best you can do?" Phichit presses. "Do you know I caught the whole thing? We can watch it, and you can tell me exactly what was going on."
Yuuri whirls around in horror. "You didn't." He couldn't have. He wouldn't do that to Yuuri. Yes, yes he would, but hopefully he hasn't.
Phichit shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it was good to see you enjoying yourself for once."
At that, Yuuri falls silent. He remembers thinking the very same thing.
He doesn't spot Victor again, and even after another glass of champagne, he's still nowhere near inebriated enough to join the dance battle. Yet somehow he isn't skirting the edges of the crowd anymore, a little more at ease in his skin, even if he can't help but look around in vain for the one person he wants to run into again. It honestly feels a little like he'd imagined the whole thing.
JJ ends up on stage again, and Yuuri chokes on his drink as he watches him wobble around far more unsteadily than earlier. "See, aren't you glad you came!" Phichit croons in his ear, and surprisingly, the answer is an easy yes.
Later, how much later he isn't sure, between a few more drinks and a few more people getting on stage to butcher perfectly innocent songs, it's time to go. "Let's get out of here, lover boy," Phichit mumbles, an arm slung over Yuuri's shoulders.
He follows Phichit's lead, if it can be called that, until they get outside. Georgi is off to the side yelling after Anya, garbled words that Yuuri doesn't really care enough to try to make out. He's pretty sure Anya's dumped him at least four separate times that Yuuri's witnessed; it's a little too much to keep up with.
Phichit finds Seung-gil, and they exchange a wholly unnecessary hug - weddings do indeed make people emotional - while Yuuri rifles around in his pockets for his phone. Why can't he seem to locate it? The pleasant buzz fades a little when someone grasps his shoulder from behind.
Yuuri turns, something rude on the tip of his tongue, but is surprised to find Victor there, grinning. "Cinderella," he greets, and it's taking way too long for Yuuri's brain to process anything other than that smile, the soft scent of cologne the breeze carries his way. Yuuri swallows.
Suddenly, it clicks - there in Victor's hand is his phone, the one he'd just been fruitlessly searching for, the one he now remembers stupidly leaving behind on the table. Had he actually left it there, or had Victor pocketed it then, making up for Yuuri's carelessness?
Cinderella. It echoes in his head, makes him feel drunk. His cheeks are flushed, he knows.
"Thanks," he says, taking it from Victor's grasp. He feels like he's blinking a lot. They gaze at each other wordlessly, Yuuri just barely stopping himself from making some stupid quip like my hero, even though Victor would probably laugh. He smells really good, but Yuuri also manages to keep that to himself.
"So, Sleeping Beauty, I suppose this is where we part ways." Victor leans a little closer, eyes soft, and Yuuri wants to protest - he can't be both Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, that makes no sense at all. "Before you go..." Yuuri watches Victor pull out his own phone, crooked smile on his face. "Your phone number? If you don't mind me having it."
Yuuri stares. It still feels like he's blinking too much, maybe in an attempt to ascertain whether the beautiful apparition of Victor before him is actually asking for his phone number. Had he just let out that terrible gurgle? Ah, thankfully not; that had been Phichit, it seems. Yuuri wonders if he's filming this, too.
He licks his lips carefully, trying to focus. "I'd sing it on stage for you, if you asked."
Victor's laugh warms him up inside, from his head to the tips of his toes. He recites his number, Victor dutifully entering into his phone, and after a few more moments of tapping he pockets it. The radiance of his smile is enough to make Yuuri's head swim.
"Don't delete that message in the morning," Victor says seriously. "Even if it has typos. I'm not at my best right now."
That's a lie, Yuuri thinks. With his light hair windswept, suit a little unkempt, and contentment coloring his features, Yuuri's quite sure he could stand here forever admiring the sight. "Don't worry," Yuuri assures him. "The best things are worth waiting for."
Oh my god, his inner voice exclaims, or more likely that had been Phichit. Either way, Victor's laughing again, even as he reaches out to take Yuuri's hand. The warmth bubbling beneath his skin seems to intensify, centered on their joined hands.
"You're right about that," Victor says, beaming. He swings their hands back and forth a little, until Yuuri steadies him. He likes the feel of Victor's hand, likes it even better when it's wrapped so nicely with his own.
He's not sure why exactly it seems like a good idea, but he brings their hands upward, carefully examining each of Victor's knuckles. Victor hums when Yuuri runs a thumb over them, and without thinking about it Yuuri tilts his head down to place a soft kiss to them. A kiss to each one, actually, one, two, three, four. Victor makes another sound, Phichit may too, but Yuuri's too pleased with himself to do anything but look up with a smile. Victor's cheeks are pink.
"Good night," he says, and even after their hands separate, after Victor bids him good night and he and Phichit are walking away, his cheeks are still just as pink. Yuuri can't stop smiling.
"Incredible," Phichit is saying. "When's the wedding?"
"Oh, stop it," Yuuri replies. "Everyone knows it's in bad taste to get engaged at someone else's wedding."
"Ah, that's true." Phichit frowns. "W-wait a minute! You didn't deny it ever happening!"
Yuuri laughs, giddy. "He returned my slipper, Phichit! Who knows what the future holds."
"What slipper? Yuuri, I'm too drunk to follow this, I need you to go back to the beginning," he pleads.
"Tomorrow," Yuuri promises, unable to wipe the grin from his face. Tomorrow, he'll feel properly embarrassed about such open flirting, but much more importantly, tomorrow - tomorrow, this will all still be real, not something that Sleeping Beauty had only dreamed.