( he has to swallow again, and swallow down a whining objection that it's Goofy Vitya, only because a small, needy part of himself wants to hear Yuri say Vitya again and again. but it's insidious, and inappropriate, and he knows that, so he laughs, swallowing down his own worst impulses. patience, patience. it doesn't mean a thing in the world until Yuri knows what it might mean; until Victor extends an invitation that Yuri accepts knowingly.
wanting something doesn't make it true. it's somehow easier to shake off the jitters and the unexpected heat of his nickname on Yuri's lips when he can simply flirt right on back, uncomplicated. )
He'll have to make up for it with charm. In the meantime, Goofy Victor likes Goofy Yuri. Sounds like everyone's winning here.
( he winks in turn, heart thudding fast and happy in his chest, joining Yuri and Makkachin at the water; but he doesn't direct either one of them once he's there. man and dog are left to their own devices, Victor balancing the duality of his own gaze and the world seen through the lens of his camera to capture the candid shots of both Yuri and Makkachin. more and more he finds himself tracking Yuri through the lens, adjusting his focus, the aperture, playing with light and exposure time with a distracted, second nature air; lowering the camera so that he sees Yuri with only his own eyes. there's something wonderful in watching him have fun; in watching Makkachin and Yuri play for the sake of playing.
it fills his heart in a way he doesn't have words to describe. pictures, certainly: like the fields of sunflowers he's done a shoot in before, like the curling force of the waves crashing in against the shores of the Hawaiian islands in their dangerous beauty, like the soft light in the photographs he took of Makkachin sleeping on the porch of the lakeside mountain cabin Victor had been to five years ago. a contentedness, a happiness, a fullness; and the urge, strong and compelling, to catch Yuri up in his arms and press a kiss to his full lips, curled up into the smile of his laughter.
Victor does none of this, instead shaking himself out of a revelry he didn't know had caught him. laughing as Yuri laughs, calling out in not quite reprimand: )
Makka! Behave!
( not that his dog or Yuri seem interested in doing so, based on Yuri's exclamation. Victor takes a few steps higher, onto the soft sands where the water won't reach, pulling his camera off from around his neck. he balances his camera between his thighs, pulling his shirt off over his head and bundling his camera with a practiced ease, leaving the whole sitting neatly on the sand even as he turns around and is met with water flicked his way as he rejoins them in the surf.
all bets are off at that point, Makkachin a riot of movement and happy barking as she tears through the water and the sand and runs and runs like a much younger dog, tongue flying out of her mouth as she cuts back across, splashing them both as she goes. Victor sends water arcing across a retreating wave, grinning as he dances backward, water splashing up his calves. )
You'll have to try harder than that!
( comes the laughing challenge, Victor yelping and bolting down the beach when the challenge is met, laughing as he goes. )
no subject
wanting something doesn't make it true. it's somehow easier to shake off the jitters and the unexpected heat of his nickname on Yuri's lips when he can simply flirt right on back, uncomplicated. )
He'll have to make up for it with charm. In the meantime, Goofy Victor likes Goofy Yuri. Sounds like everyone's winning here.
( he winks in turn, heart thudding fast and happy in his chest, joining Yuri and Makkachin at the water; but he doesn't direct either one of them once he's there. man and dog are left to their own devices, Victor balancing the duality of his own gaze and the world seen through the lens of his camera to capture the candid shots of both Yuri and Makkachin. more and more he finds himself tracking Yuri through the lens, adjusting his focus, the aperture, playing with light and exposure time with a distracted, second nature air; lowering the camera so that he sees Yuri with only his own eyes. there's something wonderful in watching him have fun; in watching Makkachin and Yuri play for the sake of playing.
it fills his heart in a way he doesn't have words to describe. pictures, certainly: like the fields of sunflowers he's done a shoot in before, like the curling force of the waves crashing in against the shores of the Hawaiian islands in their dangerous beauty, like the soft light in the photographs he took of Makkachin sleeping on the porch of the lakeside mountain cabin Victor had been to five years ago. a contentedness, a happiness, a fullness; and the urge, strong and compelling, to catch Yuri up in his arms and press a kiss to his full lips, curled up into the smile of his laughter.
Victor does none of this, instead shaking himself out of a revelry he didn't know had caught him. laughing as Yuri laughs, calling out in not quite reprimand: )
Makka! Behave!
( not that his dog or Yuri seem interested in doing so, based on Yuri's exclamation. Victor takes a few steps higher, onto the soft sands where the water won't reach, pulling his camera off from around his neck. he balances his camera between his thighs, pulling his shirt off over his head and bundling his camera with a practiced ease, leaving the whole sitting neatly on the sand even as he turns around and is met with water flicked his way as he rejoins them in the surf.
all bets are off at that point, Makkachin a riot of movement and happy barking as she tears through the water and the sand and runs and runs like a much younger dog, tongue flying out of her mouth as she cuts back across, splashing them both as she goes. Victor sends water arcing across a retreating wave, grinning as he dances backward, water splashing up his calves. )
You'll have to try harder than that!
( comes the laughing challenge, Victor yelping and bolting down the beach when the challenge is met, laughing as he goes. )