emberossing | Bear the Weight of Well-Tailored Clothes (for davaidavai)

Bear the Weight of Well-Tailored Clothes (for davaidavai)

The idea takes a while to come to fruition.

Life moves on in the meantime. The exploration of this thing that's happening between them happens, as most things do, slowly. It's not full-force training season yet, but they're ramping up, getting back in shape, spending time at the rink just working on the basics. Life isn't without it's quiet moments, but it's getting more hectic, and Yuuri has slowly expanded the list of Places in the Apartment That Feel Like Home from the bedroom to include the master bath, and the kitchen, at least, even if he often feels like something of an interloper into the space that he poured over in a magazine in the rest of the house. But it's his toothbrush in the bathroom and his favorite mug in the sink and his side of the bed, and it's good. It's better than good.

So even though he was originally thinking about it as some kind of reward for something in particular, he finds it's a more general thank you, for helping him to settle, on one of their last free days before the real training starts. Viktor's been talking about going clothes shopping for a week now, but hasn't done it yet, so when he suggests that maybe they should go, Yuuri shrugs and agrees to go with him.

Simple. Except that, with the notable exception of Barcelona, Yuuri has never said yes to going shopping for Viktor, except for grocery shopping.

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Viktor's automatic answer is 'Me,' which probably shows on his face. Only for a second. Because then what Yuuri's offering actually sinks in.

"Shoes," he declares. Eyes glittering. "You need shoes!"

Shoes that aren't tennis shoes, anyway!

"Okay," he says, easily, "Let me get changed," he leans up for a shorter kiss, but he kind of clutches at Viktor's sleeve for a moment, "Uh... comfort over fashion, though, at least a little?" he requests, because he knows Viktor will already be thinking about what he wants to get for him, "My feet hurt basically all the time. I don't know how you wear some of the things you do." He does understand leather shoes break in, obviously, but Viktor also seems to be willing to compromise a lot more on comfort in a number of ways to look good.

And then, suddenly, a flush of color and an idea,

"Can you mostly behave yourself to help me out of it? It would go faster with you to hang things up for me."

"We''l find you good ones."

Viktor immediately adds 'inserts' to the list. They are a Godsend! But that's not nearly as sexy. What is sexy is Yuuri's latest suggestion. It's clear Viktor is calculating the parameters of 'mostly' but then holds out his hands.

"Of course!"

"They make nicer sneakers, don't they?" he's drawing Viktor back over to the more enclosed area, kisses him again but lightly, and then kind of turns himself over to Viktor's care to undress-- as long as he really does behave himself, of course. He's used to having Viktor undress him. It's not a part of their nightly rituals or anything, not something he demands all the time, but if he's really tired or Viktor looks like he's stressed, it's something he allows. It's just another piece of this present, here. They can't do all the things he wants to do in regards to Viktor peeling him out of this suit, but they can do this.

"I don't think I really can ever dress how you do," he says, while Viktor works on getting him out of the suit, "... but I do think I could stand some nicer things if they're like that last set. More... casual but still nice?" he doesn't have the fashion words for it, but he knows the slacks made him uncomfortable, but the jeans just made him feel put-together, sexy. It's also a tiny invitation like maybe, just maybe, this offer that he's making extends beyond one shopping trip and one outfit, if Viktor's willing to push just the tiniest bit, let Yuuri know that what he wants is okay.

"Casual-sexy is definitely your aesthetic," Viktor agrees. Undoing the tie first and slinging it around his own neck. Being able to breathe without the press is one of the best feelings, even after only a few moments. He savors the ease that should be spreading on Yuuri's face. Then turns him around to watch in the mirror. Falling into the process.

He actually does keep his hands in respectable areas. Technically. The bounds of that stretch by necessity when sliding off clothes. Viktor runs them warm up Yuuri's back, freeing him of the jacket. Next come the buttons.

"I'd love to see what else you put on," he adds. That is both about clothes - what Yuuri wants is more then okay - and other things.

Yuuri flushes at being called sexy, but he had looked good in that other outfit. He doesn't do anything to stop or discourage Viktor from touching him while he undresses him, either-- in fact, the flush and the soft look on his face is probably doing the opposite. It's not a look that would be sexual on most people, but his expression is relaxed. They are in a dressing room, technically in public, in a place he was scared to even so much as look at before, and Viktor can feel the way his spine unknots at the sweep of his hands.

"You just say that because you want to take it off of me," he purrs back, warm and intimate.

"And that!" Viktor agrees, grinning. Buoyed by Yuuri's unexpected enthusiasm, the easing into his hands. Who knows what else can be accomplished today?!

There's only a little wandering across Yuuri's chest. He just wears disheveled so well, Viktor can hardly be blamed for it. Then the shirt is safely returned to the hook.

He's still going to have difficulty directly asking for more than Viktor's "forcing" on him. If Viktor doesn't pick him out other outfits, they're just leaving with the one and the suit. Just holding open the door to that is as far as he can go. But if Viktor does decide to pick him out some other things that fall into that more casual aesthetic? He'll find that Yuuri will stand by quietly and let him buy most of the store, so long as it fits into that category.

It probably doesn't help anything right now that Yuuri's going swiftly from relaxed to almost dazed with the touches, another layer of permissiveness that Viktor knows from experience isn't at all at odds with him being more dominant, whatever it might look like to someone else. Yuuri letting him see him like this, get him like this, is a gift, some kind of reward. In this case, likely a thank you for making sure that he's comfortable here, for keeping the salespeople away so they have the privacy for this.

He still finds it a little difficult to look at his own body in the mirror, but all that means is that he's left staring intently at Viktor's face, into his eyes when they meet, with a singular kind of focus that's completely at odds with how indulgently relaxed he seems under Viktor's hands. It's the start of a promise that all of this is definitely going to end up back in Viktor's apartment, in their bed.

Viktor "exploits" this ruthlessly. Handing out cheerful orders to the salespeople, shuffling Yuuri from one outfit to the next. Making sure this fits and that gets tucked in just so. Slowly a pile of clothes builds. Each piece beautiful just for the permission in it, a yes Viktor never expected to have.

They do not sell shoes here. But somehow a few pairs appear anyway. However Viktor's arranged that? Never mind. It means they don't have to leave, risk shifting this amazing moment they've stumbled into.

Viktor holds up a pair of black sneakers. Flat, as promised, and understated in a way that can only mean they're absurdly expensive.

"Can I help you with these?"

Yuuri actually doesn't know that they don't sell shoes here, so it's weirdly appropriate, that he just kind of takes this as his due in the moment, doesn't question whatever alchemy Viktor has worked to get them here.

"Of course," he sits down and, to his credit, he doesn't even glance at the growing pile of clothing, or ask about the price tag on the shoes. So long as he keeps liking what Viktor is bringing him, he seems like he's going to let Viktor spoil him as much as he's inclined to. Instead, he locks eyes with Viktor, letting him deal with the laces on his current, markedly more ratty sneakers.

No wonder Yuuri's feet hurt. He has to have completely worn out the support on these. Viktor tries not to think about how old the shoes are. A year? Two?!

He takes the time to rub against the arches. Pressing his thumbs in deep. Again indulging himself in things being allowed. It's always good to find another area. Something else he can do for his Yuuri.

Then the new sneakers are getting pulled on. Tied snug, and Viktor's rolling back up. Pulling Yuuri after.

"What do you think?"

He's moaning just a little, for the press of Viktor's thumbs into the arch, head falling back against the wall and it's another moment where anyone (god forbid) walking in would have a very different impression of what was going on, the way Yuuri looks almost dazed, the way the tension leaving his feet draws it out of his thighs, too. It looks like Viktor could just take him right apart, for a moment. And he probably could. It's just that that's a prize, too. He's gotten Yuuri this relaxed and open here. Getting Yuuri comfortable enough to be genuinely pliant is not an easy task in the slightest and yet, here they are.

Yuuri stands with reluctance, but he does want to try out the shoes. He bounces a little on them, walks around a bit.

"They don't hurt?" he knows even less about shoes than he does about clothing. "Do they look good?"

Viktor takes that moan as the victory it absolutely is. Is so caught up in Yuuri like this - lovely, unguarded - that he has to shake himself before there's an answer.

"They look perfect! And as your coach, I can't let your shoes ever get that worn out again!"

Which means Yuuri's getting three pairs of sneakers, in different colors.

"I know we're in skates most of the time, but shoe maintenance is important! No more wearing the same ones everyday, right?"

Here is another area where it looks like Viktor's bossing, Yuuri following. But Viktor's been tasked with taking care of things. Making sure everything is in the best possible shape. He's reveling in it, smile going warm in a way that usually means bedroom.

Maybe it's just because Viktor is also his coach, maybe it's just something about their styles like this, maybe it has something to do with Viktor being famous or with Yuuri's anxiety. He has no idea. But Viktor doing things for him that are associated with skating has never felt cloying or coddling and getting yelled at on the ice, or fussed at it off it, doesn't touch whatever it is that they're doing and building between them. It's been a hard task, getting Yuuri to the point where he trusts that Viktor wants to coach him. But now that they're there, he always accepts that he is.

He's got that kind of power. He doesn't always understand why or even how, but Viktor Nikiforov is falling all over himself to be his coach, to push him to new heights, to put him in the limelight, even if it mostly feels like he's being some combination of dragged and pushed there most of the time.

"Yes, coach," it's said demurely, and he means it that way. The way he looks up through his eyelashes at the end of that, heated, however, is entirely planned. And then, his mouth curving into the little grin that always means trouble,

"If I wear some of this out of here, are you going to be able to wait until we get home, or am I in danger of getting ravished on a street corner?" He knows quite well that he's definitely in danger of getting ravished in a dressing room.

Just not as much danger as Viktor is.

Because Yuuri deserves that spotlight. And if Viktor has to fight Yuuri himself to get him there, well, it's a job worth doing. Viktor wants everyone to see what he sees. How bright the shine is. So his heart leaps at the "Yes coach." Giddy and relieved that it isn't so much of a fight any more.

But then that smile... Maybe he doesn't want to share everything about Yuuri with the world...

"You're always in danger of that," he grins. Brushing back Yuuri's hair, just because it's been too long since he's felt it running through his hand. "Hmmmm. If I behave, do I get a treat?"

It wouldn't be Viktor without a push, now would it?

Yuuri arches an eyebrow sharply, because he might be the one going home with a new wardrobe, but this whole past few hours was a treat. But Viktor wouldn't be Viktor unless he pushed. More, always more. Yuuri considers it, but he takes his sweet time doing it and he knows his face is inscrutable while he's deciding.

"Of course," he finally says, because in the end, he's really bad at denying Viktor much of anything, even if he sometimes has to take the requests and mold them into something that's more to his liking. But that doesn't mean he's a push-over, "But only if you ask more nicely. Just because you've gotten your way so far today doesn't mean you get to be a brat about it," there's humor in his eyes though, just enough of a grin so that Viktor knows that he's joking.

He is also absolutely not joking.

"Ah, sorry, you're right!"

Viktor does not want Yuuri to think he's ungrateful. Doesn't realize who all this is for. Pulling him into a hug, he tips their foreheads together. Breathing in just being together. Never mind the clothes. Even the scarf. This is the best part.

"Thank you. For this."

Then Viktor's own joking/not-joking grin slides onto his face.

"If I'm good, and don't tear your clothes off in public, may I please have a treat when we get home?"

"You're welcome. You deserve it," he can't quite say that he does too, but he wants to give Viktor that all the same, feels it even if he's not quite bold enough to say it, yet, so he reaches out, hopes Viktor can hear the things he doesn't say, "I like... that we match a little better now." He blushes, hides his face in Viktor's shoulder to get it out, clings a little. He trusts it not to change the mood, until he can gather himself after that confession. But he also still feels like everything is knocked a little sideways in him by all of this, the nearer they get to leaving, the more vulnerable he's feeling, a little nervous, he doesn't want to leave the cocoon Viktor's created here, doesn't want to face the salespeople Viktor's protected him from, doesn't want to see the total. He's going to do all of that, he knows he can do it. But it's twisted up inside him like an oncoming train.

"Please tell me that slow fucking me wearing the scarf counts as a treat." It's one of those moments where he's so far pushed past everything that all that's left is the truth. He doesn't even blush.

"Yes."

This is breathed reverently. Viktor's overwhelmed too, in his own way. Hands pressing into every inch of Yuuri he can reach. Yet another thing that would seem strange, to an outsider. Viktor can hold entire arenas hostage. This is one person. Some fabric, some shoes.

And Viktor's absolutely head-over-heels for these "small things." They are as enormous as any arena. If you look at it the right way.

"I'm going to go pay. You can stay in here, if you like?"

He could, of course, take care of all that. The same way he's handled the rest of the task. But... it seems important for Yuuri to choose here. Viktor keeps his hand wound in Yuuri's. Ready to let go - or to pull him close and face the swarm of salespeople together.

"I'll help," he says, quickly, before he can talk himself out of it. He wants to do this, even though it scares him. He wants to do a lot of things, even though they scare him. "But uh, help me pick out what to wear home first so you can take the tags?" It's both another gift and just a practical concern. Viktor will pick faster than he will and Yuuri's ready now to be out, not because he wants to run away from this, but because he has somewhere much, much better to be, now.

This is something he could draw out, if he wanted to, and he feels how good that would be shining over there like a path not taken-- letting Viktor dress him up, not just in something to try on, but how he wants him to look, but he wants to be home, now, impatient as he was teasing Viktor about being and maybe he'll let Viktor pick out his clothes for the next week or something, instead-- right now, though, he's all business about it until they can take the pile of things out towards the register, his old clothes bundled up in the shoebox for his new shoes.

Viktor beams.

"Keep the jeans on, and - Hmm, this one I think," he decides, pulling out a cream button-up shirt. Now that decisions have been made, he doesn't linger. All efficiency as he slips the tags free, buttons into holes. It's not just the eagerness to get home. There's going to be a jaw drop from the sales staff, and Viktor does so love a show.

Especially if it's showing off Yuuri.

Finally comes the the scarf. The first trophy, wound carefully around Yuuri's throat. Then Viktor sweeps everything back together. Rejects piled neat in a corner, the larger stack of winners ready to be presented to the register. (The sales staff are in charge of both.) He tucks Yuuri's old clothes carefully under an arm.

The suit, though? Viktor offers that to Yuuri.

"Ready?"

Edited 2017-09-15 12:04 (UTC)

"No," he says, with a laugh, but he takes the suit and falls into step with Viktor, which is a good sign that he's actually okay with going out there.

Yuuri's blushing madly about getting ushered out, about how much they're spending, about how obvious it is that it's Viktor spending it on him, but there's a bit of mischief in his grin, too, and Viktor can recognize the expression from the club. It's the expression he gets when his brain has a moment where it accepts that Viktor is his. It's depressingly fleeting, but it's always incandescent when it's there. Everyone else here sees this one way and they know it's the other and Yuuri wonders if he's ever, ever going to get tired of that.

The effect is something like a spotlight. Viktor senses more then see the jaw drops. The staff is too well-trained to betray more then that. He takes the win. Looping their arms together and reveling in that aura radiating out. Of being Yuuri's.

The transaction is rapid, complete in less then a minute. Everything packaged neatly together and then they're swinging out the door. With somehow no amount of money actually spoken out loud.

They have more bags from this fancy store than he's ever taken out of even a department store at once, probably paid more for them than he has on every single scrap of clothing he has ever owned in his entire life. He can feel himself wanting to turn around and return them already, tell everyone that there's been a mistake. His stomach turns over a little, the further they get from the store, the more embarrassing such a thing would be. But Viktor's arm is warm through his and the scarf curled around his neck (which it's maybe a bit too warm for still, but he doesn't care, he's not quite uncomfortable enough to remove it) is soft and then the further they get from the store, the more permanent it seems, the more like something that has happened than something that is happening.

Viktor can feel him relax a little against him and he finally breaks the silence,

"Sometime soon, I probably need more than two pairs of shoes," he offers, a cherry on the sundae of today, "But uh... not right now, I don't think," he flushes, looks away-- it's not that he would mind the shopping now, exactly, but they definitely have somewhere better to be, after the conversation in the dressing room and he wants to be there.

"I'm free tomorrow!" chirps Viktor. Unable to resist the cheek.

The trip back passes in a warm blur. A successful shopping trip always brings a high, but this is something else entirely. Viktor doesn't really come back to himself until he's pressing Yuuri against the door. Trailing kisses along his jaw, down his neck. Lingering here and there. Leaving marks, now that there's no salespeople to gossip.

He reclaims just enough presence of mind to get the suit hung on the coat rack. Everything else can wait.

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