❆ come on out ❆

INTERLUDE I ❆ VICTOR

Author's notes, TW & CW 
↳

April 6, 2014

To his credit, Chris doesn't seem to mind when Victor shows up on his doorstep. He opens the door, squints, grins wide, and says in English: "Victor? Thought you were in Russia!"

"Hey, Chris. I was in town and thought I'd drop by." The preplanned excuse rolls off his tongue effortlessly. He glides by into Chris' apartment without waiting for permission. "I expected you to be at the rink."

"Then why did you come by my place?"

"A hunch."

"And why aren't you practicing?" Chris trails behind him. Both of them sit in the living room, across from each other.

"Oh, you know. I just wanted to see my old friend. Got anything to drink?"

Chris raises an eyebrow at that—they're not really that close, though they are friends—but doesn't mention it. "Sure. Masumi!" Chris hollers into the next room. "Victor's over, could you get him a drink?"

"Sure," Masumi calls back.

"Making him get your drinks, Chris? For shame."

"Aw, he likes it."

Victor carries on like that, teasing, bantering about nothing at all, always on the offensive. ("Really, Chris, wine? It's three o'clock." / "You asked for a drink within the first thirty seconds of setting foot in my apartment, you don't get to complain about my choices." / "You gave me water." / "So?") Freely, he gives away information about his skating, but he's careful not to follow up on any conversation threads that would take him towards explaining why he left Russia. As they go on, those threads pop up more and more, and he realizes that Chris is directing the conversation that way. A skilled gossiper indeed. Victor evades his implications with increasing effort, and Chris becomes more frustrated, until eventually he just comes out in the open with it:

"So why are you here?"

"To see an old friend, like I said," Victor answers, casual as anything.

Chris grins. He enjoys this game. "Why?"

"To tell him something important."

"Oh? And what's that?"

Victor pauses. For the first time since he arrived, the apartment is utterly silent. The longer it stretches, the less comfortable Chris looks.

Eventually Victor takes a short breath and says, straight to the point, still casual as can be, "Well, I was thinking about it during the banquet, and when I got home I decided to stop pretending I wasn't gay." Then, quickly: "Don't tell anyone."

"Oh. Congratulations." Chris raises his glass. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed. Knowing you, you'll kiss a boy on the ice within the year and then it won't be a problem. You could have called me on the phone, though, you know. No need to fly all the way here just to come out to a fellow fruitcake."

Victor laughs, but it's weak. "Yeah. Well, I live in Russia, you know? Better safe than sorry."

"Mm." Chris nods gravely.

"So I asked Coach Yakov what he thought of gay people before I told him."

Chris' expression wilts as he realizes what sort of conversation this is going to be. "And?"

"All he said was..." Victor grasps for the translation. "педики? It's like...faggots." He clears his throat and does his best Yakov impression, translating his words to English as he goes. "It's necessary. You can't show that stuff to kids. Maybe Americans can put up with it, but we have to have standards in our country."