Chapter Text
Evanuric ice.
Viago dreamed of it since he was a little boy. Four years ago, the season that would've been their breakout season, they had fumbled Antivan nationals due to injury and Illario and Amara had claimed the single pairs spot they'd had for the winter games in the Anderfells. They'd ended up in a meager ninth place while Rook and Viago had watched from his living room couch, wondering what could've been.
Now here he is, five-thirty in the morning, stepping tentatively onto that white, shining surface. He's pretty sure he's the first person in the building. Morning practice doesn't start for another hour. He just needs to feel it for himself first, before he has to shift focus and be coach rather than skater.
He's been getting more comfortable on the ice again, puts his skates on more often now when he's coaching so he can be right there with his charges instead of just watching from the sideline. He'll never jump again, but a couple of weeks ago, Teia planted an idea in his head that's been nagging ever since.
The ice crunches under his blades as he takes off.
He doesn't need the music to feel it, knows exactly what he would choose if he could. It would be different, so different and he knows that, doesn't know if he could do it. His hands raise up in the air of their own accord. Teia is shorter than he's used to, muscle memory still ruled by the time he skated with his sister, but he can correct the difference if he thinks about it. It must look strange, a waltz without a partner, but there's no one around yet to watch him dance with a ghost. Or rather, a memory in the shape of the woman still sleeping in his bed currently.
"I think this is my last year in singles." At 27 years old, nearing the end of her second quad in the senior circuit with three world titles under her belt and an Evanuric medal pending, retirement isn't an odd thing for Teia to think about. But that isn't what she'd said. Her last year in singles. Viago hadn't asked and she hadn't elaborated, but what she said stuck.
At first he thought she'd just said it in a strange way, but then he caught her watching back a video from the Evanuric games eight years ago. The Mac Tir and Theirin free dance to Moulin Rouge was arguably one of the most iconic performances in ice dance through the ages, and it deserved to be rewatched every now and again regardless of your preferred discipline. The way Teia had been watching it was what had struck him. She sat curled up on the couch, tablet resting on her knees, watching the video with an intense look on her face, pausing and going back on some parts of the performance. Studying.
Viago knows he'll have to ask her about it soon. If that really is something they want to try, well, things would need to be arranged, puzzle pieces shuffled up and refit to make it work. A million questions come to mind, like who would coach Rook and Lucanis and Illario, could he do both, does he want to do both, isn't he too old and too cripple? A million questions to cover up the only one he knows Teia will care about: does he want it?
The ice whizzes under his blades as he spins through a twizzle and into a bracket turn. He'd need to sink deeper into his knees and ankles again to even begin to match Teia's speed and flow across the ice, but he thinks he could learn to match her. He always preferred skating with someone beside him anyway.
An enthusiastic applause from the side of the rink breaks through his contemplation and Viago spins around to face his sister and her partner.
"Looking good, Viago!" she yells across the rink as more pairs and their respective coaches trickle in.
As he skates over to Rook and Lucanis, Viago files the list of questions away in the back of his mind. He can return to them later when he has time, and maybe a glass of wine. Right now, he has to help his pair prepare to win Evanuric gold.
∘°❉°∘
Viaga can't remember Casa de Riva ever feeling quite as homely as it has over the past few weeks. Even Rook has gotten relaxed in the grand house on the hill. He had purposely taken her away from here when she'd only been thirteen years old to pursue a dream their father hadn't understood. When Fulgano proposed them staying with him for the duration of the Evanurics, both of them hesitated. Living with their father for a prolonged amount of time - well, it hadn't sounded that appealing to either of them, even with the newfound peace in their small family. But in the end, staying at the house beat staying at the village.
So here they are. Lucanis is sitting in the corner of the couch, reading an old romance novel he apparently conjured up from some forgotten corner of the house. Rook is curled up against his side, ever the number one enemy of anyone's personal space. She's scowling at the TV, watching some awful reality show about - Viago isn't sure what it's about, actually, but Rook and Teia seem very invested.
Teia.
She's bundled up in her own corner of the couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, nursing a glass of wine that father hand picked for her. She doesn't need to stay here at the house with them at all. Her own apartment in the heart of the city is much closer to the rink. When Viago had pointed that out, as well as the fact he could also stay there with her, all she'd done was shrug and tell him maybe she liked staying at the villa. She'd be the first to, he'd told her. But maybe that isn't really true anymore. Maybe he likes it, too.
It is starting to become less foggy, that image of a distance future where father retires and Viago takes over running the vinyard. Living at the villa with Teia. He'll ask her to marry him at some point. Maybe they'll even have kids running around the big house. Do it right for the next generation. But there's still a "before then" to consider that's much more tangible.
"I'm going up," Viago says as he hoists himself out of his chair.
Teia smiles and unwraps herself from her blanket. "I'll come with you."
"You'll miss the elimination!" Rook argues, pointing at the tv.
"Oh, come on," Teia says. "Clearly Gabriela is out. If not, you can catch me up on it tomorrow morning at practice." She walks past Viago, brushes her hand against his arm as she goes.
With a softly muttered 'buena notte', Viago turns to follow Teia up the stairs. She walks around the place like she already lives her, bare feet steady on the wooden floors, stepping over uneven floorboards without looking. They don't say another word to each other until the door of his room clicks closed behind him. Silences between them are never awkward, but this one carries weight.
"Are we going to talk about it?" Viago asks.
Teia wanders over to his desk where she keeps her toiletry bag. "Talk about what, Vi?" She hops up to sit on the table top and unzips the bag, rummages through the bottles and pots without much interest.
"Your plan," Viago says. "After your last year in singles."
"I was starting to wonder if you caught that." She smiles again, giving him her full attention now. "We can talk about it if it is something you are willing to talk about. Until then it is just a silly idea I have."
"It is," Viago agrees. "It is a silly idea. I can't get up there again, Teia. I'm not gonna be good enough to match you."
"You don't know that, Vi. I have seen you on the ice with Rook and Lucanis, with Illario. You're out of shape, yes, but it's muscle memory, too. I know you can't jump, but you can skate. We could skate. If you want to."
A million questions. Viago is quite sure she has an answer to all of them, except the one she thinks actually matters, the one she asks him now. He doesn't have an answer. "I know nothing about ice dance," he says instead.
Teia huffs. "Very 'pairs' of you. Clearly it's not my ballpark either. I don't want to do it to win, Vi. I have done that already. I want to do it because it is fun. Natale coaches Lera and Oto, we could talk to him—"
"I'm not sure Natale likes me much after we left him for Helio and Treviso."
"That's a decade ago. You were a kid."
"I would make the same choice now."
"Fine, you want to call Helio instead?"
"That is not what I meant."
Viago comes to a halt right in front of the desk. He didn't notice walking there during their back and forth, but now Teia is right in front of him. The fierce look in her eyes as she gazes up at him. It is almost enough to make him fold.
"Do you want to, Vi?" Teia asks. "That's all I'm asking. Do you want to?"
He leans down and kisses her softly, rests his forehead against hers and sighs. "I would pick the music from Westside Story for our free dance." He kisses her cheek. "You would be a beautiful Maria." His lips travel down her jaw to her throat.
Teia gasps. "Of course you already have a plan," she breathes.
"I have a list." He straightens up again. "A list of music I would dance to with you. It is just - I don't want to disappoint you, Teia."
She reaches up and grabs his chin between her finger and thumb, directs his head to look down at her. "Viago, caro, I will ask one more time. Do you want to?"
His 'sí' is a barely audible whisper that lingers in the space between them. They look at each other for a moment, and then Teia pulls him down to her, meets his lips in another kiss. Her fingers pull at the buttons of his shirt, her breath heavy against his lips as he runs his hands up her thighs. He lifts her off the desk and she chuckles.
"See, we can do lifts, molto facile," she murmurs.
"Hmm, be careful where you put that faith," Viago replies. "You never know when I might drop you."
Teia's loud laugh fills the room as he drops her down on the bed. Viago looks down at her for a moment. She pushes up on her elbows and gives him a look that sends an electric current throughout his entire body. He puts his knee on the edge of the mattress, consciously puts his weight on it as he crawls over her, nothing hurts. It hasn't in some time.
Their lips reconnect and he's finally sure.
Yes. He wants to.