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It's not a hardship at all to pose with his gold medal (gold! his own gold medal that he won himself!) and Phichit absolutely wants photos from every available angle, plus about a thousand selfies for his Instagram. However, his own victory is not the only joyous and long-awaited development they need to celebrate today, and it makes him vibrate in place every time he glances to his right.

Yuuri's standing there with his silver medal in hand and a media smile plastered on his face, but he looks dazed, his eyes blinking slowly in the flashing lights. It's like his mind is miles away, or minutes, the time that separates them from the moment when he got practically tackled with a kiss by Victor freaking Nikiforov.

So when the camera flashes let off and the reporters look away, Phichit immediately slides close to Yuuri and throws his arms around him, not even giving him a chance to turn before he squeezes him in a sideways hug.

"It's not like that with Victor, huh?" he asks, repeating Yuuri's earlier words in his best attempt at a hushed tone.

"It wasn't!" Yuuri says stubbornly, but a genuine smile blooms on his face along with a blush.

Phichit huffs impatiently. "But it is now?"

"Ah, I think so?" Yuuri more asks than replies, his eyes wide. But then he blinks, breathes in and says: "Yes, um. Yes," and Phichit more or less mashes his face against Yuuri's cheek with an excited sound, drawing a laugh out of his friend.

"Congratulations, Yuuri!"

"I should be congratulating you!" he protests, patting Phichit's hands where they're still clutching his arm. "You won! That's great."

Phichit preens for a moment (because yes, it is). Before he can say anything about a rematch at the Grand Prix Final, he gets interrupted by a hand brushing his shoulder.

"I think we all agree that Yuuri is the real winner today," says Chris, who must have turned to them after losing interest in the reporters.

Phichit rolls his eyes, because there's a gold medal digging into his chest that says otherwise, and Yuuri chokes out an embarrassed laugh. "No, of course not," he says, but Christophe is not listening.

Not to be outdone in physical closeness, he slides around them to press himself against Yuuri's other side. His right hand reaches across Yuuri to rest at his waist, and judging by the noise Yuuri makes, his other hand goes quite a bit lower.

"But I didn't know it's open to everyone," Chris continues, smiling at them, ridiculously long eyelashes lowered in a smoldering look. "Not that I'm complaining."

And it's possible that Chris has some kind of a superpower, the air of pure sex around him bending time and space, because Phichit could swear that the next seconds turn into molasses. A few things happen as if in slow motion: Chris swoops in to press a kiss against Yuuri's cheek (pretty close to his lips, actually), Yuuri's eyes grow comically large for the second time today, Phichit snorts, and a million camera flashes go off.


The long string of questions and people sticking microphones in Phichit's face is made infinitely more fun by the shiny gold hanging around his neck. Celestino looks a mix of pained and amused every time Phichit playfully promises to crush Yuuri once again in the Grand Prix Final. And okay, technically neither of them has their spot guaranteed just yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Afterwards there's champagne, taking selfies with whoever he can grab (mostly Yuuri, and by extension Victor), and exchanging numbers with people until Celestino escorts him to his hotel room. "Please try to get some sleep before the flight," he says, sounding like he knows that it's a lost cause.

"Sure!" Phichit chirps, swiping at his phone and waving goodnight with his free hand. Celestino sighs and disappears into his own room across the hall, because that's what coaches do normally, unlike some people they all know who room together, possibly with one bed (Yuuri hasn't provided actual proof that it's not the case, so Phichit remains skeptical).

First order of business is posting the selfies. Phichit planned to be at least a bit selective, but they all turned out great, so almost every photo goes straight on his Instagram. It's probably still under a hundred, so it's fine.

Next he finds the official photos of them posing with their medals, with himself in the middle with the gold, Yuuri and Chris at his sides. He saves each one and hovers over Yuuri's name in his contacts, but pauses before he actually shares. That could look too much like bragging, and it wouldn't do to be mean when he's just really happy for them both.

However, there are bound to be pictures of the other victory, ones that he has a moral obligation to share. Phichit grins and taps over to Twitter. He barely has to start typing "victuri" before there's a flood of photos of The Kiss, in various stages of blur and grain, plus gifs and videos set to Celine Dion. They're mostly accompanied by a number of exclamation marks and #LoveWins.

He dutifully sends all the prettier ones to Yuuri, adding some !!! and heart emoji of his own. He gets to about ten before there's a reply.

[Conversation with Yuuri]

Yuuri: Oh god

Yuuri: Stop

Phichit: Can't

Phichit: It's too good <3

Yuuri: (〃ノωノ)

There's really a lot of it. Phichit scrolls happily for a while, forwarding stuff to Yuuri occasionally, until he gets to a weird part.

▶ I don't know guys... are we sure that #victuri really kissed?

"Um, yes," he says out loud, baffled, and it's echoed by some tweets from other people.

▷ yeah they kissed

▶ I'm not sure. Like I'm totally into victuri but... idk
▶ From this angle you can't really see their lips touching?? So maybe it's just a hug?

▷ omg jess, it's a kiss

▶ I hope you're right...
▶ #Victuri and the schrödinger's kiss! Move you arm, victor ;_;

It gets worse. Against his better judgment, Phichit taps on #KissOrHug, and then it's theories upon theories about angles and dubious Russian social customs. He laughs and takes screenshots of a particularly involved thread.

[Conversation with Yuuri]

Phichit: [image sent]

Phichit: You know, Yuuri, I think I'm not 100% sure that you kissed

Phichit: Needs more pics

Yuuri: What

Phichit: But a good angle this time pls

Yuuri: Phichit-kun

Yuuri: Step away from twitter

Phichit: Oh Yuuri

Phichit: I would if I could ._.

It's like watching a trainwreck and Phichit can't stop scrolling even as the theories get more ridiculous. And finally he pauses, his thumb hovering in the air as he stares at his own face on the screen.

The photo must've been taken shortly after their medal ceremony. This time Yuuri is in the middle, looking like a deer in the headlights with Chris kissing his cheek. Phichit's got his arms around him and his face closer that he remembers it being, but that's not a problem.

As always, the problem is the commentary.

▶ Look, Yuuri was all hugs and kisses with Phichit and Chris too
▶ Idk, I guess he's just close with his friends?? They're affectionate dudes
▶ Figure skaters, man ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

He snorts as he screenshots it, but hesitates over Yuuri's name. It's been a while since Yuuri replied, so maybe he's busy in a good way. It would be a shame to interrupt him for this of all things, no matter how much Phichit wants to share. However, there's another person involved in this 'no homo' conspiracy, so he scrolls up his contacts and sends it to Chris.

He's starting to think that maybe he should've provided some context first when his phone pings with a reply.

[Conversation with Chris XXX]

Chris XXX: Excuse me?

Chris XXX: What about this says "just friends"?

Phichit: Right??

Phichit: Maybe friends with benefits ^_^

Chris XXX: My favorite kind~

Phichit may be slowly crashing from excitement and champagne, and dry-eyed from staring at the screen for way too long, but he's not about to pass up An Opportunity.

[Conversation with Chris XXX]

Phichit: So you really mean it?

Phichit: With Yuuri?

Chris XXX: Of course

Chris XXX: I wouldn't touch his ass so much if I wasn't ready to follow through

Chris XXX: That would be rude

Christophe's personal philosophy aside, he's just won a bet for Phichit. Yuuri was insistent that it didn't mean anything and it was just Chris being Chris, stubbornly ignoring the fact that he was the only one (okay, apart from Victor) getting the special Giacometti treatment.

And Chris is not even done yet.

[Conversation with Chris XXX]

Chris XXX: His ass is quite delightful, by the way

Chris XXX: Worth the silver for sure

Phichit: I'll let him know

Phichit: About both (^_~)☆

Chris XXX: Do

Chris XXX: Victor has my number~☆

Because Phichit is a great friend, he's going to wait to share this and collect on the bet until Yuuri is back from his honeymoon. He should probably get some sleep now anyway.

He yawns as he rolls off the bed and pads to the bathroom to at least wash the gel out of his hair. He's ready to crash by the time he comes back and flops down, but then his phone lights up with a message.

For a second he thinks it's Yuuri, but it's actually from Victor. It's a selfie, poorly lit with a bedside lamp, but some squinting is enough to recognize the details. Yuuri's passed out half on Victor's chest, mouth open as he sleeps and his arm thrown over Victor, who's not even looking at the camera. Instead he's gazing down at Yuuri with a gentle smile, his hand buried in Yuuri's hair.

Phichit lets out a soft gasp.

[Conversation with Yuuri's husband]

Phichit: ( ღ'ᴗ'ღ )

Yuuri's husband: Proof?

Phichit: Hmmm

Phichit: Not sure

Phichit: I don't see lips touching

Yuuri's husband: ((

Yuuri's husband: I'll try tomorrow

Yuuri's husband: Yuuri needs sleep now

Phichit: Goodnight

Phichit: zzZZZ

He falls asleep still clutching his phone.


Phichit's got about three hours of sleep and negative time to deal with his hair. He's running mostly on a large latte with whipped cream and extra espresso, brought to him by Celestino when he banged on his door in the morning, because he's the actual best coach even if he doesn't cuddle him gently at night. All of that makes Phichit's airport selfies look a bit manic.

Celestino steers him through the check-in and boarding while Phichit catches up with the world. Leo seems to be in better spirits and eating street food with Guang-Hong, because some people didn't have to leave at stupid o'clock in the morning to catch their flights. Victor's Instagram is similarly filling up with photos of Yuuri eating mantou. The only surprise there is that they got out of bed and dressed for breakfast, though Yuuri looks a bit like he thinks he's still dreaming.

Phichit leaves likes on everything, even Georgi's dramatic pictures of blue and black roses, and lets Celestino herd him into the window seat as he taps over to Twitter. It's still open on #Victuri, and he smiles as he swipes through photos of their interview and The Kiss adorned with angels singing on the side.

It doesn't take a lot of time before he sees his own face again. It's the same moment, just another angle of him and Chris crowded around Yuuri. The accompanying tweets are quite different, though.

▶ guys, you know I'm all about #victuri and I'm super happy about yesterday but this honestly makes me a bit worried because like
▶ what if yuuri is cheating on victor with phichit and chris??

▷ wait what. like both at the same time or?

▶ yeah I guess

He stops and stares for long enough that Celestino asks if he's okay, alarmed at the stillness and possibly the noise Phichit is making. He replies with something half-coherent and moves to take screenshots, his hand shaking with excitement.

[Conversation with Yuuri]

Phichit: Yuuri, you can have my gold medal

Yuuri: ??

Yuuri: What happened?

Phichit: [image sent]

Phichit: This

Phichit: This is the real gold

Yuuri: What

Yuuri: Oh my god

Yuuri: What??

Yuuri: Don't show it to victor

Yuuri: Aah too late

Yuuri: (/ω\)

Sending it to Chris is definitely a bad idea, but damn if Phichit isn't tempted.

"Airplane mode, Phichit," Celestino says in the tone of a person who's had to say it a thousand times before and is resigned to saying it a thousand times more.

"In a second," he replies, distracted with the ping of another message.

[Conversation with Yuuri's husband]

Yuuri's husband: !!!!

Yuuri's husband: (((((((

Yuuri's husband: How could you

Yuuri's husband: </3

Phichit: Sorry

Phichit: I couldn't resist Yuuri

Yuuri's husband: I understand that

Yuuri's husband: But I will fight for Yuuri

Yuuri's husband: (ง'̀-'́)ง

Phichit: Good!!

Yuuri's husband: ))

Celestino resorts to poking him in the arm, so Phichit gives in, grinning as he closes the messages and switches to airplane mode. It's okay to leave those two to themselves, at least until he lands at home.

They're going to be alright.