A/N: Part of my Yuri on Ice New Year's countdown, #5. Written for the prompt 'kiss' on the holiday-prompts New Year's table.

It's not like Victor's never had friends before.

He has. He had friends when he was still in school, although he stopped talking to most of them as his schedule got more demanding and he found more fun and common interests with other people, and stopped talking to the rest after graduating. He had friends at the rink when he was a kid, but he eclipsed them and then he started training at a new rink with Yakov, and he stopped seeing them. He's friends with Georgi.

But Chris is different. Chris messages him just because. Chris will let Victor drag him along on adventures when they get to meet up and isn't afraid to give an honest opinion when he asks for one. Chris doesn't get boring no matter how much they talk.

And now, after a series of text messages that had started as a joke and slowly become serious, and a brief conversation with Lilia and Yakov, Chris is coming to visit for a few days for New Year's. Victor can hardly sleep the night before he's set to arrive, still abuzz with the joy of winning gold at Nationals.

Victor's had friends before, but never the kind of friend he would invite over for a night. Not the kind of friend who would fly from another country for a few days to visit.

The next day, he spends his time alternating between staring at the clock, playing with Makkachin, and cleaning his room, although it's perfectly neat already. Lilia reminds him at one point when he's passing through the kitchen to get some spare bedding out, and then asks if Chris will be sleeping on the secret bed that folds out from one of the couches. (Victor's seen it get use exactly once, when Lilia caught the flu and she told Yakov to use it so he wouldn't catch sick, either. He didn't, but he was extra grumpy until she got better.)

"Lilia! It's a sleepover. Of course he's going to be in my room."

She nods. Pauses. Glances at him sideways as she lifts her teacup. "Then do you need to get spare bedding?"

Victor flushes when he catches her meaning. The bed is big enough for two people to share – it couldn't be too narrow with how Makkachin likes to sleep with him – and he wouldn't mind, but— "Ah, I don't know. I'll ask when he gets here?"

She nods, then goes back to reading the paper. Victor takes Makkachin for a long walk to work off his impatience. He's glad that Lilia and Yakov aren't the type to make a fuss about him bringing anyone over, although he never has before. His parents would want to know when he got a boyfriend and how long has he forgotten to tell them and what is he like, and Victor would wear his throat out before Chris even arrived trying to explain.

Then it's time to pick Chris up, and it's good to see him again, and on the way back, Chris reveals that he brought chocolates. "A belated birthday present. Happy twentieth. And congratulations on the gold." He kisses Victor's cheek as he hands the box over. Victor's heart thumps in his chest.

Victor can't resist having one right there. Chris smiles at him as he eats it, probably because of his expression or the little noises he makes. It's been too long since he had good chocolates; why can't they be healthy?

The first thing they do when they get back is introduce Chris to Makkachin. Victor doesn't think he's ever heard him crooning like that before. It's cute. Maybe it's how he talks to his cat. Makkachin enjoys the attention, and then when she wanders off to have a nap, Victor takes Chris to his room.

He sits on the bed. Chris is peering around with interest. "Did I need to get some spare blankets and things?" Victor asks.

Chris straightens, looks at the bed, looks at Victor. "I suppose that's up to you," he says after a long moment. Victor can't quite read his expression behind his glasses. (Glasses suit Chris. He should wear them more often.)

"Well," Victor says. "It would be a lot more comfortable here than the floor. And make it easier to stay up all night whispering to each other." That's what people do at sleepovers, don't they? Victor's never been to one, even as a child.

"It would," Chris says. He smiles.

That night, they bundle under the covers together with Makkachin right beside the bed, and they talk for hours about skating, and – that's it, really. But it's nice. Victor likes having the warmth of another person beside him, listening to them breathe. He wakes up with Chris's head buried in his neck, and that's nice, too.

They spend their limited time together well. Over the next couple of days, Victor takes Chris to his favorite places in the city, Makkachin always by their sides. Russian New Year's turns out to be different from Swiss New Year's. On New Year's Eve, Victor tells him about it and tells him stories, like the time he spent the holidays with some relatives and he got to dress up as the Snow Maiden and help give presents to his little cousins, and his braids were cute but his cousins were even cuter.

"So you're not spending it with your family this year?" Chris asks. "Or..."

"My parents are visiting Mama's favorite relatives this year," Victor tells him. "So they're not around. Anyway, it's nice with Yakov and Lilia. They're a bit more..."

"Calm?"

"Mm-hm."

There's snow falling, but not that heavily, so Victor tugs on Chris's hand to steer him towards a nearby park and doesn't let go. They walk slowly down the path, watching Makkachin jump into snow drifts with all the energy of a puppy. There are children playing, but the snowfall muffles their shouts and makes everything but the two of them curiously distant.

"It's nice here," Chris finally says.

"You like it? I thought you would – it's such a pretty city, isn't it?"

"It is," Chris says, and then he bumps Victor's shoulder with his own. "Full of pretty people, if you're anything to go by."

Victor laughs and tucks his spare hand against his cheek in a pose stolen from a photo in a magazine. He likes Chris's smile. He wants Chris to kiss him.

Chris does, but only on his cheek, above where his scarf protects it from the wind. "You're cold," he says. "Actually, so am I. We should go inside and warm both of us up."

So they go home. Victor wants Chris to drag him to his bedroom and kiss him properly, but they have to dry off Makkachin first, before she gets the furniture all wet, and then it turns out that Lilia's made them tea. A short conversation with her distracts them into finding holiday movies on TV that Victor attempts to explain to Chris while they watch, since there aren't any subtitles, of course. Victor does get to wrap his arms around Chris for a while, and then it's time for dinner, and then it's too close to midnight and Victor feels frustrated with himself.

But at least Chris seems to be having fun. When it's almost midnight, he settles down with Victor on the couch again, Makkachin at their feet, and puts his arms around Victor when he pushes in close. Yakov and Lilia are never hugely into celebrating, but even they drift out to watch the president's speech and the ringing bells and the fireworks.

It takes them a while to decide to go to bed, but eventually, yawning, the two of them stumble back to Victor's room. "Help me with my hair?" Victor asks as they settle into bed. Of course he could undo his braid by himself in about two seconds, but he'll take any excuse to have Chris touch him right now.

Chris does so, pressed against his back, one arm around Victor's waist, the other slowly combing the braid apart. Victor shivers at every pass of his fingers through the strands; the arm on his stomach is so hot that he doesn't really want to be wearing a shirt anymore. "Blowing stuff up," Chris whispers in his ear. "That's a good tradition."

"Are we missing any other good ones that you have Switzerland?"

"You know, in some places, there's this excellent one." Chris's voice dips deeper; he pulls Victor even closer against him, so they're touching everywhere, their torsos and their legs. "At midnight, you find someone nearby that you like a lot, and you kiss them."

"Does it have to be at midnight?" Victor asks, glancing at his clock, which shows that it's nearly two.

"It's almost midnight in Switzerland," Chris points out.

So they watch the clock and adjust themselves so they're closer to facing each other. The clock hits two, and Victor looks at Chris, and Chris looks at him, and looks at him, and looks—

They both realize that they're waiting for the other at the same time and burst into quiet laughter. Then Victor, too impatient to wait another moment longer, tackles Chris to the bed and kisses him.

"I like this tradition," he says when they have to take a moment to breathe, several minutes later.

"Come back here," Chris says. "You're not warm yet."

"I'm not," Victor agrees, though he certainly feels like he's about to overheat. Here's all that touch he wanted earlier: Chris, dragging him back to the bed. Chris working a leg between his and a few fingers into a belt loop. Chris, putting a hand up his shirt and touching him everywhere, his shoulders and back and chest.

Chris, kissing him hot and good, so close Victor can feel his eyelashes, and he's already decided that next December, he's flying out to Switzerland for New Year's.