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The skatepark is already blisteringly hot at 10 AM. The sun is demanding in the cloudless sky and promises nothing but more heat and light for the rest of the day. Viktor doesn’t let that put a damper on her mood, grinning madly as she rushes to pull on her skates as soon as she arrives.
She’s here before Yuuri which is great, because that means she can be doing something really cool when Yuuri arrives and this will be the best first date of either of their lives.
From above, the skatepark looks sort of like a pool with all the water drained out, the corners rounded. You can enter the basin by cruising down a selection of ramps on either side of the park, their lengths and steepness vary, or by dropping into the sizeable halfpipe in the corner, which empties on one end into the rest of the basin.
It doesn’t have a bowl, which is one of Viktor’s favorite features to skate, but it makes up for it with a wide variety of other features, including different heights of rails to grind on. There are other bigger, objectively nicer skateparks in town, but Viktor picked this one on purpose. It packs a lot into a small footprint, but shouldn’t be as overwhelming as some of the other parks in the area. Plus, since it’s a little out of the way, it won’t get busy until much later in the day.
The latter fact was pointed out by Chris, who graciously accepted a panicked FaceTime call at 2 AM on a weeknight. They skated together as Juniors, sometimes with and sometimes against each other. Chris is, probably, the closest thing Viktor has to an adult best friend and Viktor is only a little salty that Chris moved to play in a MRDA league when they aged out of JRDA.
“You can’t take her to the skatepark on a Saturday night!” Chris had scoffed, still working his way through Step Nine of his twelve step skin care routine. “It’ll be too crowded. Not romantic at all. Plus you said she was shy – there will be all kinds of people there filming and watching. You don’t want to give her performance anxiety.”
Viktor had mulled over this advice, deemed it reasonably good – not all of Chris’ advice reliably was – and fired off a nervous text asking if Yuuri was okay moving their meetup to the morning.
If Yuuri thought that was strange, she didn’t mention it, just agreed to the change of plans.
Unlike her derby skates, Viktor’s park skate setup has high top boots and super loose trucks, so she has the perfect balance of ankle support and mobility for adding fancy footwork to her stunts. She does a few sloppy drills on the flat concrete to warm up the muscles under her already overheated skin before taking off to drop into the halfpipe.
Dropping in has never scared Viktor. When she was young, she would say it feels like flying and would steadfastly ignore the many people who pointed out that it was technically just falling. Lately, the feeling of flying is harder to come by and Viktor finds herself driving further, hunting for deeper bowls and higher halfpipes to throw herself off just to get half the feeling that skating used to give her.
But today is different, as the regular world disappears behind her, an honest grin spreads across her face. Today she finally gets to skate with Yuuri .
She gives herself a little extra pump of speed as she sinks into the curve of the halfpipe and then sails up and over the lip on the other side, lightly tapping the rim of the halfpipe with her toe stops, before sliding backwards. With each rock back and forth, she gets a little less height and angles for the open end of the halfpipe that empties her out into the rest of the park with momentum to spare.
She takes her time to jump and glide over a few elements she particularly likes that are often overrun by other skaters at night – that weird, triangle-shaped bump in the left corner for instance – but keeps her eye on the parking lot every time her head rises above the lip of the basin. No sign of Yuuri yet, but the day is still early so she doesn’t let herself worry.
There’s a short pumping track that runs around half the top edge of the skate park. If the city wasn’t so cheap, they could have made it go around the entire park and Viktor would be able to loop around and around as many times as she wanted without stopping for anything except the aching of her sore muscles, but she contents herself with sprinting around the flat ground and then hitting the track with as much speed as she can get.
She flies over the first ridge and then sinks into the dip, pumping her legs hard to keep her speed on the second rise. The advantage of being above the rest of the park is that it gives her a perfect view of the parking lot which means she sees the moment Yuuri’s dented, blue Subaru pulls in.
Too quickly, Viktor reaches the end of the pumping track and has to sprint around the flat concrete again, the parking lot at her back. When she sails up the first rise, she gets a glimpse of Yuuri digging through the trunk of her car.
Yuuri looks amazing, with her black hair plaited back into twin braids that fall to her waist against her back. She’s wearing the navy workout leggings she always wears to practice, the ones that hug her ass so beautifully, and a gray tank top that Viktor doesn’t recognize.
Then Yuuri turns around, skate bag in hand, and begins to jog across the parking lot and Viktor is suddenly certain that she’s never seen this tank top before because she would remember that .
It’s nothing fancy, there’s not even a logo on it, but the tank top is light gray and features a deep v-neck that gives Viktor, even at a distance, a stunning view of Yuuri’s cleavage, held cruelly in place by her deep purple sports bra. The vision disappears for a few, terrible seconds as Viktor slides into the dip of the pump track and then reappears as she hits the next rise.
Unfortunately, Viktor is so distracted by the sudden appearance of Yuuri’s breasts that she forgets to pump at the base of the track and doesn’t have enough momentum to get over the low hill. With a sharp, startled sound, Viktor suddenly finds herself tipping backwards, gravity pulling her too-tall upper body back into the well of the track.
Years of practice spare her a concussion, but it's a close-call. It takes precious seconds for Viktor to process the problem and remember to bend at the waist, tucking her chin and rolling out of the fall rather than slamming down backwards onto her head, but she still lets out an undignified yelp as she hits the concrete.
“Viktor!” Yuuri watches it all happen as if in slow motion, immediately changing her trajectory from the pile where Viktor had abandoned her stuff that morning to the track.
Viktor waves her off, climbing quickly to her feet, as if picking herself up mid-jam, and coming to meet the other woman in the grass. “It’s fine! Just a little spill. Happens all the time!”
Yuuri makes a face and Viktor quickly corrects herself, “I mean – not all the time! I was just distracted by– that is, I got excited seeing you arrive and forgot how to skate for a second.”
It’s embarrassing to admit, but honesty reaps its own rewards in the form of Yuuri’s big, doe eyes turning away shyly and her full bottom lip being pulled at by her white teeth.
“That’s– You shouldn’t say things like that so easily.”
Viktor wants to insist it’s true, but she’s seen the way the other woman gets nervous when their coaches provide her positive feedback at practice, so she lets the conversation carry them forward. “Did you bring your skates? I have wheels for you to try!”
Talking about skating is easy, safe. Viktor could do it all day if someone would let her and the way she listens to Viktor drone on about durometer and plastic versus aluminum cores and why it’s important to wash your ball bearings – with quiet, studious intent – Viktor lets herself hope that Yuuri is the one.
“They should spin freely if you give them a flick, but they shouldn’t move side-to-side at all,” Viktor is saying, demonstrating how to change out wheels and how to perfectly torque them into place, before handing Yuuri one of her own skates and a set of four wheels. Nice, grippy ones perfect for absorbing the cracks and imperfections of the skatepark concrete.
Then Viktor watches as she gets a skate tool out of her own bag and perfectly, effortlessly changes out all four wheels without asking a single follow up question.
“Oh my god,” Viktor groans, hanging her head as she finishes swapping out the wheels on the skate she’s taken responsibility for, “You just got your own custom setup, you totally knew all of that, didn’t you?”
“I mean,” There’s that flash of teeth again, as Yuuri bites down lightly on her lip, eyes dancing, “The shop owner walked me through how to change out pretty much everything on this pair of skates specifically and I did kind of do a lot of my own research when picking everything out…”
“ Yuuri ,” Viktor whines, hiding her face in her hands, “Why did you let me talk so much?”
Yuuri mutters something that Viktor doesn’t quite make out through the fog of her embarrassment, but then refuses to repeat it even when Viktor asks.
It sounds suspiciously like I like hearing you talk , but once again Viktor avoids pressing the issue.
“Well, enough yapping – hurry up and get your skates on!” Viktor encourages, “I can’t wait for you to try this!”
Yuuri spares a glance at her bag, face twisting for a reason Viktor doesn’t understand, but then her dark eyes narrow and she tugs each skate on firmly before climbing to her feet, only a little wobbly on the grass.
“All right!” She announces, “Let’s go!”
Viktor lets her take off first, glancing curiously at her skate bag, then feels her stomach knot with guilt at a glimpse of Yuuri’s helmet peeking out from where the bag wasn’t fully zipped up. Viktor never bothered wearing pads at the skate park – they make her joints feel stiff and heavy when she wants to be light and flexible. By contrast, Yuuri was meticulous about her safety gear at derby, always putting on her helmet and mouth guard first before putting on her skates.
Viktor’s about to apologize, insist the other woman come back and gear up, but when she looks up, her heart catches in her throat.
Yuuri is already on the concrete, tentatively testing out the grip and slide of her new wheels. There’s a small crease between her eyebrows, a frown of intense concentration as she practices laterals, shifting into a low, derby stance and pushing herself left and right before moving forward and executing a picture perfect transition. ’ Lead with the shoulders ,’ Viktor narrates in her own head, ‘Step open with the back foot, bring the front foot back to close again.’
And then Yuuri is skating backwards and smiling at her, so bright it rivals the sun.
“It feels great!” She says and Yuuri means the wheels, but Viktor’s heart flutters with the hope that one day Yuuri will mean them, too. She wants to make Yuuri feel as great as Viktor knows she is.
They take things slow, at first. Viktor explains how to stack your legs – one always in front of the other – anytime you go up or down something and holds her arm out to offer Yuuri stability as they tackle her first ramp together. It’s short and shallow, a true beginner way to get into the basin. Yuuri is breathless when they finally coast to a stop, just a few feet from crashing into the next feature - a wide bench you can jump off of or grind on.
Yuuri steps onto it with surprising confidence and then steps off the far end at a roll, something halfway between a step and a jump. She turns to look at Viktor with a surprised laugh, “It’s just like at the rink!”
She means the skate rink where they practice, which has an annoying lip at one entrance to the wooden floor that everybody hates and trips on constantly. Viktor can only laugh. That lip is barely three inches. The bench is more than a foot off the ground. “Only you would say that.”
They try the halfpipe next. Not dropping in, Yuuri blanches at that, but starting from the bottom of the curve. Viktor explains the mechanics of pumping your legs, how to push off hard at the bottom of the pendulum of momentum, so you can reach higher than gravity would otherwise let you. Yuuri gets into the rhythm of rocking forwards and backwards faster than Viktor expects, frowning that little, determined frown the whole time.
Viktor could push herself higher if she wanted to, but instead she tries to match Yuuri’s speed and height, pushing forward when Yuuri rolls back and vice versa.
They make a little matching pair, keeping up a steady rhythm for longer than Viktor expects. It becomes a game, every time they pass each other, Viktor turns and makes a face or tries to reach out to touch her, while Yuuri scowls playfully and dodges the touches.
“Getting tired?” Viktor asks, teasing even as sweat begins pooling in the collar of what is supposed to be a sweat-quicking shirt.
“Not even a little,” Yuuri says, her tongue poking out from between her lips, and Viktor’s surprised to notice it’s not a joke. Yuuri’s voice is steady and even, her feet are straight and evenly stacked, no sign of hesitation or fatigue in her stride.
Viktor stares at her as she skates up the opposite wall, letting her own feet carry her up and backwards in time, and when gravity calls her down once again, Viktor feels a long-absent swoop in her stomach.
They make two more passes and then it turns out Viktor’s close attention is a good thing, because she notices the second it starts to go wrong. Yuuri wobbles at the crest of her run, tries to catch her balance, but lifts too far out of her stance. It’s a mirror of the mistake Viktor made on the pump track, but Yuuri has none of the instincts or practice required to keep herself from falling back directly on her unprotected head.
Viktor’s feet move faster than they ever have before, carrying her down the halfpipe and directly into Yuuri. They slam together with a grunt, Yuuri’s back caught against Viktor’s chest, Viktor’s hands wrapped around her waist. The opposing momentum brings them to a hurried stop and then Viktor’s feet slide out from under her and they collapse in a heap at the bottom of the halfpipe.
“That was–” Yuuri gasps, wriggling in Viktor’s hold so she can check if the other woman took any damage on the way down. “That was incredible. How did you know–?”
“Let’s just say I was watching carefully,” Viktor replies before she can think better of it, not realizing how low her hand had fallen from Yuuri’s waist during the fall until she’s unconsciously squeezing down on warm, plush muscle.
Yuuri squeaks and then they both scramble apart, blushing madly. Viktor’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “Sorry!” She apologizes quickly, “Sorry, sorry! I, um, I’m a bad example. You should get the rest of your gear on and I’ll show you some more stuff. Pumping gets exhausting after a while.”
Yuuri gets on the rest of her gear - elbow, wrist and knee pads, her S1 helmet, and even her mouth guard even though it makes talking difficult. Viktor takes a water break and manages not to choke out anymore innuendo.
After her first near-miss of a big fall, Yuuri is more cautious and makes Viktor demonstrate every potential move before trying anything, but Viktor’s happy to move at her pace and impressed with the number of things she’s able to do. Viktor explains how to cut along the wall, how to visualize a path through the park before dropping in, and how to use quick jumps to 180 at speed rather than a slower transition step.
Eventually, Yuuri has enough of an idea of what to do that she insists Viktor give her time to try things out on her own and Viktor gives her space, moving away to do some skating of her own, really stretching herself after a morning of essentially warming up. The sun up above is still unforgiving, and Viktor’s sweating a deeply unsexy amount, but when Yuuri shyly approaches her at the end of a long run - she can’t be anything but happy.
“Um, I don’t know how much time you have,” Yuuri says, her feet dangling over the edge of the halfpipe, looking down into the park at Viktor like she isn’t the most stunning thing Viktor’s ever seen. “But I brought some food, if you wanted to take a break.”
“A picnic!” Viktor beams, lifting herself up over the lip of the halfpipe so she can throw an arm across the other woman’s narrow shoulder, completely forgetting to be embarrassed about the amount of sweat gathered under her armpits. “Yuuri, you’re brilliant!”
“It’s just a few snacks…” Yuuri says, her cheeks awash with pink.
Viktor feels heat on her own face, along with a prickling, itching feeling, but refuses to listen to any diminishment of Yuuri’s genius.
There are proper picnic tables at the park, next to the water fountain and the bathrooms, but they’re on the hot concrete, so Yuuri and Viktor sprawl on the grass instead, breathing in the relative coolness.
Viktor is proven right when Yuuri opens her insulated lunch box and pulls out four perfectly triangular rice balls, covered in satiny nori, a smattering of sesame seeds, and stuffed with tuna mayo. The magic bag also produces seaweed snacks, a bag of carrots, and two chocolate chip cookies. Made fresh the night before by Yuuri’s roommate, Peach.
Viktor takes the first rice ball offered to her and bites into it with an irrepressible moan that leaves Yuuri blushing.
“They’re just rice balls.” She insists.
They’re perfectly salted, the seeds and the seaweed give them a satisfying crunch, and the tuna mayo has just a touch of heat to it that makes every bite a surprise. “Just rice balls,” Viktor mimics, rolling her eyes, “God, if I knew you could cook , I would have asked you out much sooner.”
For some reason, this comment makes Yuuri go quiet, but she hides her reticence by taking a big bite of her own rice ball. Again, Viktor elects not to push. Things are going so well, after all. For a while they let the conversation lapse and just focus on eating.
It was silly of Viktor not to think to bring food. She’s absolutely starving, having skipped breakfast to get to the park faster. If Viktor had her way, she’d never take off her skates, but life had all these little rules to it. Annoying things like how you have to make money and pay rent, so instead of skating all day, every day, Viktor has to work. And grocery shop. And sit down at her laptop once a month and pay the aforementioned rent.
So when she has time – real time – to dedicate to just skating, she kind of forgets about everything else.
They’re just finishing up – sipping water from their bottles to wash down the melty, gooey chocolate from the cookies – when Yuuri finally speaks up again.
“This has been,” Yuuri pauses, like she has to catch her breath, before finishing, “Really fun.”
Viktor’s gaze flies to Yuuri’s face, a smile spreading across her cheeks. The smile is wide, pulling at the skin stretched across her face, and a frisson of pain twinges her smile.
Uh, oh.
“Viktor, when was the last time you applied sunscreen?” Yuuri asks, another one of her concentration frowns taking over her expression as she peers critically at the skin of Viktor’s face.
“Um,” Viktor cringes internally, knowing that the true answer is years ago, “It’s been a while, I guess?”
It’s not fair. Yuuri’s skin is already notably darker than it was this morning; meanwhile, Viktor burns at the slightest touch and never tans at all.
“Here,” Yuuri clicks her tongue behind her teeth, “I brought some. It’s probably time for me to reapply, too.”
“Oh, you don’t have to–” The thing is, Viktor hates sunscreen. Hates the smell, the texture as it dries on her skin, the way it always gets under nails and stays there all day until she can scrub her hands at home. She knows she should wear it, but she can never make herself.
But Yuuri doesn’t press the slim, white bottle with neat, unreadable characters on the label into Viktor’s hands like she expects. Yuuri pops the bottle open with a click , deposits a healthy dollop on her fingers, then reaches out and presses her fingers to Viktor’s right cheekbone, silencing all of her protests.
It’s cool and soothing on Viktor’s overheated skin. There’s no awful, chemical smell or weird oiliness. But best of all are Yuuri’s finger pads, which are slightly calloused, but gentle as they sweep over the contours of Viktor’s face; careful as they methodically apply lotion to every exposed inch of Viktor’s skin, including her eyes lids and the tips of her ears.
The movement brings them close together. Viktor can smell Yuuri, whose gear has that eternal derby stink on it, and is sure she can be smelled in all her sweaty glory in return. The wind kicks up and blows Viktor’s fringe of hair out of her face, exposing her wide forehead and the spray of acne from where her derby helmet holds sweat against her skin during practice. She can count Yuri’s short, thick eyelashes from here. As soon as she starts to try, Yuuri’s hand disappears from her face.
“There.” She says with satisfaction, “All done.”
Viktor licks her lips and watches with delight as Yuuri’s eyes track the motion. She doesn’t move away. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Yuuri asks, still so close.
“Should I–?” Viktor is about to offer to return the favor, but Yuuri’s swaying close and closer and the words tangle on her tongue. Oh, god, they’re about to…!
In the not-far-distance, a car door slams. An overexcited child of indeterminate gender shouts with excitement, trailed by a nervous-looking father. Yuuri and Viktor spring apart, faces hot and not just because of the sun.
Yuuri packs up the leavings of their lunch while Viktor makes herself busy refilling their water bottles at the fountain. By the time she returns, Yuuri is just finishing applying more sunscreen to herself. She catches Viktor pouting at the sight, “What?”
“I wanted to do that.” Viktor whines, startling a laugh out of Yuuri.
“I’ll remember for next time.” She says, so offhandedly, and yet it makes Viktor’s heart light up like a Fourth of July fireworks show. But then Yuuri’s expression falters, she frowns and says, “Not that – I mean…”
Viktor never finds out what Yuuri means. Behind her a man clears his throat and Viktor turns to find the nervous father from earlier over her shoulder.
“Hi,” He says with an extremely awkward wave of his hand. He’s in his thirties, wearing a rumpled pair of cargo shorts, and sporting a hairline that is threatening to recede quickly. He shuffles his weight, eyes glancing to the side, but Viktor doesn’t miss the way they obviously catch on Yuuri’s cleavage first. “Um, this is weird, maybe, but my daughter got skates for her birthday and she really wants to try them out here. I watched some videos to get her started, but I really don’t know what I’m doing.”
Viktor’s only halfway thought up a polite excuse to turn him down – Viktor doesn’t do kids – when Yuuri gets to her feet, stands at Viktor’s side, and says, “Of course! We’re happy to help.”
Viktor’s not happy, but if Yuuri is, Viktor will put up with it.
The kid is nine or ten and enthusiastic, but inexperienced. Yuuri gives her a lecture about always wearing safety gear – giving Viktor a hefty side eye – while Viktor mostly keeps a watchful eye on the dad.
Fortunately, the dad just seems to be relieved at having someone else take over, and his gaze remains primarily on his child. As it should.
Yuuri teaches the girl to stay low and grab her knees for stability, before demonstrating how to fall safely, dropping to one knee at a time. Viktor smiles; her days of beginning derby are far behind her, but she recognizes the basics of basically every derby fresh meat program ever. Yuuri is sweet, offering the girl wide, encouraging smiles as they go through the bare basics of skating.
When the girl asks about the skatepark itself, Viktor is ready to take over, but it turns out there’s no need. Under Viktor’s wide, surprised gaze, Yuuri walks through all the elements she only learned hours prior with reasonable confidence. Every once in a while, she glances up at Viktor, as if for reassurance, but Viktor only has to nod for her to keep going.
It’s… incredibly endearing, watching Yuuri take Viktor’s words and make them her own for this little person. Viktor’s never felt this way before, but somehow as long as it’s with Yuuri, she can suddenly picture herself doing more than studiously avoiding children sometime in the future.
“Have you two, um, been together long?” The dad asks after a long period of silence where Viktor only stares longingly at Yuuri.
Viktor sighs, dreamily. “This is our first date.”
“Oh,” The man is startled and he clears his throat, “Sorry to interrupt. You two seemed like you were really comfortable together.”
“Yeah,” Viktor sighs again and doesn’t care if she’s a lesbian cliche, “I’m gonna marry her someday.”
“Um” The dad shuffles his feet, “Congratulations?”
By the time Yuuri is satisfied with the girl’s progress enough to leave her alone, the park has begun to fill up with the late afternoon crowd, comprised mostly of families and preteens. The third time an unsupervised toddler has attempted to end Viktor’s life by crawling in front of her mid-flow and necessitating a flying leap over its head, Viktor has to admit that it’s time to end things.
She finds Yuuri already by their pile of stuff, a similarly final look in her eye.
“It’s getting pretty… busy.” Yuuri says, a quaver in her voice.
“It’s getting dangerous .” Viktor sighs, spreading her sore legs out on the grass. “We should probably call it.”
“Right,” Yuuri says, looking as disappointed as Viktor feels.
It sucks to end things on this note, after they had such a good day, Viktor thinks to herself, regretful. She’s never been on a date this early in the day before; it’s way too early for an invite back to Viktor’s place. They’ve already eaten lunch, so Viktor can’t suggest that either. She’s wracking her brain as she pulls off her skates and switches to sneakers, trying to come up with something else, when Yuuri speaks up very timidly.
“...around the corner. If you, um, like that sort of thing?”
A screaming child runs by, drowning out the first part of Yuuri’s question, but Viktor recognizes the cadence of an invitation and accepts it without hesitation. Maybe a touch too enthusiastically, if Yuuri’s nervous blush is any indication.
“It’s small, just a hole in the wall,” Yuuri tells her, like it’s a confession.
“It sounds perfect.”
“Okay, I’ll drive.”
The invitation is for boba and it is a hole in the wall and it is perfect.
There are only three tables, narrow wrought iron ones that sit on the shop’s tiny sidewalk in front of the wide windows. Viktor’s long legs keep pressing into Yuuri’s knees and Yuuri doesn’t pull away, so Viktor spreads her legs out and lets their feet lay in a tangle. She didn’t know what to order, so she got the same thing as Yuuri – taro milk tea with pearl boba, 25% sweet, with light ice.
It’s delicious and it’s long gone, but they’re still there on that sidewalk, two hours later.
“I actually changed it once for BOTAS - that’s Battle of the All-Stars, wait, duh, you know that – I was on a state team and one of the other players also went by Victor and she had more seniority than me. I was – let me think, it was so long ago! – I was Heart BreakHer – that’s H-E-R – for the whole week! They shortened it to Heart, which was a little too cutesy for me.”
Oh, god, I’m rambling, Viktor scolds herself, trying to remember what Yuuri’s question had been that started this entire thing.
Nothing comes to her.
“Sorry,” Viktor forces herself to smile her most who-me? smile and tilts her head for maximum effect, “I got carried away there. What was the question?”
“I was wondering if you wanted me to call you Victoria,” Yuuri murmurs, picking at the plastic around the top of her cup, “Since, you know, you call me Yuuri.”
“I prefer Viktor to Victoria, if I’m honest.” Viktor says, forcing herself not to get off track again. “I can call you Ace, if you like.”
It’s what Viktor would normally call her, except for what Yuuri said that night. It might be a bit of a transition, but Yuuri’s perfectly within her rights to change her mind…
Except Yuuri makes a face and says, “I don’t really like being called Ace.”
“Why not?” Viktor asks, blinking. She’s never met anyone who didn’t like their derby name - you pick it yourself, so how do you end up with one you don’t like?
“Phichit picked it,” Yuuri sighs, “Ace of Clubs is an inside joke. We, um, went out together a lot in college and I have this bad habit of blacking out when I drink. Apparently Yuuri in the Club is very different than Yuuri on the Sport Court. More fun, so I’m told.”
A frustrated frown pulls at Yuuri’s distinctive features for a moment, a deep well of sadness suddenly springing up behind dark eyes. And then, like a switch being flipped, Yuuri shakes her head and hides it all away behind an awkward smile. “Plus,” She says. When they first sat down, Yuuri had taken her hair out of the braids and let it fall in crimped waves around her shoulder. Now she pulls a lock to the front of her face, twisting it between her fingers and using it has a shield. “It’s a little arrogant to go around calling yourself the Ace of anything, isn’t it?”
Viktor snorts. “You’re saying that to someone who named herself Viktorius . I think a little arrogance is good for your ego.”
“You would,” Yuuri says behind a tiny smile, “You can back it up.”
Again the sadness steals over her so quickly, Viktor can’t quite believe it. Before Yuuri can hide it again, Viktor reaches across the small table and lifts her chin with deliberate fingers, tipping her head forward to lock gazes. “You can back it up, too, you know.”
Yuuri tries to shake her off, roll her eyes, but Viktor holds her jaw steady and insists, “It’s true! I liked you from the moment we met, but I fell for you on the track. You’re strong and agile, you have great speed and stability. I like skating with you, but I like skating against you more, because I know I can go at you without holding back and you’ll always meet me where I am.”
“That’s–” Yuuri’s blush is back in full force, her sun-darkened skin does nothing to hide it. “That can’t be true.”
“It is!” Viktor insists again, shaking the face held in her firm grip, “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to see it.”
Yuuri’s bottom lip has gotten a reprieve as her confidence had steadily raised throughout the day, but now it gets worried all over again before Yuuri lifts a hand to firmly remove Viktor’s grip from her face. Viktor doesn’t fight it, let’s Yuuri set that hand on the table and then cover it with her own. Her broad palm and delicate fingers are warm and feel impossibly heavy.
“It’s just,” Yuuri traces the faint outline of Viktor’s vein over her thin skin. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but when people are too nice to me, I have a hard time trusting them. Compliments sound like lies.”
“Why would anyone lie to you like that?” Viktor asks, mouth twisting into a frown.
Yuuri sighs, a forlorn thing. “Because everyone secretly knows I’ll never be good enough, but they’re too polite to say it to my face.”
She looks so small and certain, in that uncomfortable metal chair, with the sun fading towards the horizon overhead, and Viktor can’t help but laugh, startling Yuuri with its brightness.
“That’s an awful lot of work everyone around you is doing,” Viktor says, “Wouldn’t it be easier just to let you down nicely?”
Yuuri frowns slightly, mouth pursed. “...I guess. But knowing that doesn’t stop me from feeling the way I do.”
Viktor sighs, leaning back in her chair and checking the time. It’s a little after 4. That’s not crazy early, right?
“What do you say we work on your self esteem issues over dinner?” Viktor asks, kicking the inside of Yuuri’s ankle teasingly.
Again, Yuuri blushes, looks at the time on her phone, and then looks back up through her eye lashes. “I’d like that. But, um, don’t you have to go soon?”
Viktor frowns. “What do you mean?”
“When you texted, asking to change the time,” Yuuri looks away, “I mean, I assume you have other plans tonight…”
“ Yuuri ,” Viktor singsongs, and the motion she presses to the exposed skin of Yuuri’s ankle is less of a kick, more of a caress, “I switched the time so your first time at the skatepark wasn’t on the busiest night of the week. You saw how chaotic the preteens were; it only gets worse after dark.”
“Oh,” Yuuri says, mouth falling open into the same shape.
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Viktor parrots back with a wink. “You’re my only plan for tonight.”
“Viktor…” Yuuri whines at the teasing, but her eyes dart around the parking lot. Finding the strip mall pleasantly empty, she darts forward, all the way across the little table and Viktor’s reclined body and steals a kiss from the corner of Viktor’s mouth.
She tries to retreat just as quickly, but Viktor gives changes after a surprised inhalation, eyes wide and delighted.
“Yuuri,” She murmurs against the other girl’s mouth, catching her halfway over the table with a hand on the back of Yuuri’s head. Her hair is stiff with salt deposited by her drying sweat, but it breaks apart under Viktor’s grip, flowing around her searching fingers. “You little minx .”
And then they’re kissing again, the wrought iron digging into their hips and thighs, respectively. Yuuri’s hand comes up to clutch the short hairs on the nape of Viktor’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. The angle is awkward, Yuuri’s nose pressing into Viktor’s cheek, but neither of them is interested in parting long enough to change it.
Viktor gasps into the kiss and gets a flicker of Yuuri’s tongue in return. It’s so good - so perfect - Viktor is thinking of swearing off food and living only off of Yuuri’s kisses for the rest of her life - until Yuuri drags her fingers from Viktor’s hard, trails a loving path down her jaw, and accidentally scrapes nails down her sunburnt skin.
“ Ouch .” Viktor breaks the kiss with a wince, pressing her palm to the glowing flesh.
“Sorry!” Yuuri squeaks, “Oh my god, I’m so-”
“Do not apologize.” Viktor covers her mouth with a warm palm, “Just give me a second.”
With her eyes squeezed closed hard enough to see streaks of color, Viktor presses her hand to her face and breathes through the worst of it, until the burn recedes back to just an unpleasant tingle.
With a sharp exhale, Viktor looks into Yuuri’s worried, brown eyes. “Maybe avoid my face next time?”
“Sorry,” Yuuri squeaks again, “We should get you aloe! The good kind, from the Korean market, not the American crap.”
“Now?” Viktor asks, glancing down at Yuuri’s swollen, bitten lips, “Wouldn’t you rather–!?”
Viktor never says what she thinks Yuuri would rather be doing. Someone from inside the shop bangs harshly on the mirror and a muffled voice tells them off for making out on a public sidewalk.
Viktor gives the guy the finger and sticks out her tongue, while Yuuri yelps and drags her to the car, both plastic cups deposited in the trash on the way.
“We were just kissing,” Viktor complains when they reach the car, immediately crowding Yuuri against the driver side door, out of view of the outraged employee, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Yuuri’s returning gaze is fierce and heated, “I’m just not an exhibitionist.”
And then the most wonderful thing happens. She grips Viktor’s shoulders in both hands and flips their positioning, bracketing Viktor against the door, even though she has to stand on her toes to do it.
“Is it too early to invite you back to my place?” Viktor asks, breathless.
Yuuri’s eyes sparkle. “I’ve heard it’s a nice place… I could be persuaded. What happens if we leave your car at the skatepark?”
“They lock the gates at 10:30. So you’d have to bring me back before them.” Viktor says, then winks, “Or, you know, bring me back in the morning.”
Yuuri laughs, presses their lips together once, twice, a third time before letting her go to actually get into the car. But she doesn’t say no.
Viktor grins and when she climbs into the passenger seat and the car takes off down the familiar roads to her apartment, there’s a familiar swoop in her stomach.
For the first time in years, Viktor feels like she’s flying.