For the touch prompt please do piggy back rides with Yuuri and Viktor! (Preferably drunk because of reasons)
touch prompts—now closed!// 6. piggy back rides
okok so i’ve already done victuuri #6 here pero you wanted them drunk and yes, okay. this is like 2% piggy back ride but uhhhhh
“Well, I don’t believe it.” Yuuri blinks up at Victor Nikiforov. “It’s you.”
Victor laughs breathlessly, face dimly lit by the low-hanging light bulbs of the polo bar; Georgi always takes them to the most pretentious places when it’s his turn to pick. “How many times are you going to say that tonight?”
“Victor Nikiforov, you have arms,” Yuuri goes on, scratching his chin. His eyes narrow. “Nice ones.”
Mila giggles into her margarita and Yuri rolls his eyes. “This gets so old.”
He sips at his lemonade, and technically he’s not even supposed to be able to step foot in here, but he’s Russia’s upcoming hero. And they’re all sure this bar has ties to a part of the mafia that funds their skating federation, anyway. So.
Georgi shakes his head fervently. “Never. It will never get old. It’s so romantic.”
Yuuri would watch with mild interest as the quiff of Georgi’s hair refuses to move, not even bounce, not even a little—if he weren’t staring so intensely at his fiance.
“Oh.” Yuuri’s eyebrows knit together as he spies the ring on Victor’s hand. “Oh, you’re married.” His jaw drops. “When did this happen?”
Victor sighs softly, fond. “Okay, miliy. Time to g—”
“I’m-I’m subbed to all the forums, the newsletters, they didn’t say—when did this—”
“Tonight’s a crier, boys,” Mila says affectionately.
Yuri crosses his arms and scoffs. “No, Katsudon was practicing quads today. Watch.”
They watch, and Yuuri’s face hardens and his shoulders square together. “Are you happy?” he asks seriously. “Do they make you happy?”
Victor has long ago given up trying to get through to Yuuri, when he gets like this. This is a special sort of drunk, brought only to you by a combination of hard Russian vodka, lemon juice, syrup. Yuuri only orders these Tolstoy Tangs because the words roll off his tongue as smoothly as the liquor slips down his throat.
“Very happy,” Victor tells him.
Yuuri considers this for a moment. He nods. “Okay.” He takes Victor’s hands in his own, brings them to his lips. “Okay, Victor Nikiforov. I will let you go.”
“He’s such an idiot.” Yuri rolls his eyes again.
“You’re making this very hard,” Yuuri says later, wrapped around Victor’s back. He mumbles his words into Victor’s neck. “Now I can’t. Now I can’t let go or I’ll fall.”
Victor’s grip tightens around Yuuri’s thighs. “I’ll fall with you.”