Chapter Text
Yakov still hasn’t made an appearance by the time he has to step onto the ice for his short skate, and he should be freaking out. He should be an anxious mess.
But he’s not.
Yuuri’s sure all the commentators are discussing it, and really should be more worried about it, but – he’s just not. The only sound making it through right now is Yura cheering him on, and he focuses on that through the sounds of the audience and the commentators and everything else.
The music swells, and he moves. He’s done this routine so many times before, done it well so many times before. He knows he can do it, and as he moves he has a confidence in it that he’s just never had before. It’s not perfect, he wobbles on most of his landings and even has to touch down on one of them, but his transitions feel as fluid as ever. Before, each mistake would have built up on the one before, until he was too distracted by his potential point loss to give all his of his focus to the rest of the skate. Now there’s a half-second of irritation, then he moves on, actually managing to get through the skate while remaining mostly calm.
The minutes pass like seconds, and the next thing he knows the music has ended and he’s gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his brow. Sound comes back to him all at once, and the stands are full of screaming fans and the commentators are actually stuttering they’re so thrown off balance by his performance. He can only hope that’s a good thing.
He turns to skate off the rink, looking for Yura, but he has to pause for a moment at what he finds instead.
Yura is there, of course, but he’s not alone. Celestino is there, clapping and beaming, which is a nice surprise, but that’s not all. Yakov is there, which he hadn’t expected but almost makes sense, but Viktor is there too, and behind them are Georgi and Mila.
There are too many cameras trained on him right now to hide that he’s crying, so he doesn’t even bother, wiping at his face as he skates over. “What are you guys doing here?”
“That was amazing!” Yura beams. Viktor tries to move past him to get closer to Yuuri, and Yura elbows him in the stomach and pushes him back without looking. Viktor trips over his feet and crashes in Georgi. “You did so well, I’m proud of you!”
“Thanks,” he says, and he’s not a touchy person, but Yura has conditioned him well, so he’s already lifting an arm for a hug before he even moves to give him one. Yura’s snuggled into his side with his arm around his waist when he looks at everyone and repeats, “What are you all doing here?”
“We wanted to support you, of course!” Viktor calls out from where he’s still trying to disentangle himself from the Georgi and get off the floor. Every time they almost make it to their feet, Mila pushes them back down again while laughing, so it’s taking about five times longer than it should.
Yakov shrugs and crosses his arms, but Yuuri thinks the old man might even be blushing. Celestino claps him on the shoulder and says, “Come on, let’s go get your scores. You did very well.”
Yuuri eyes his couch warily, but he doesn’t look mad, and he’s always been crap at hiding his emotions. “Okay.”
~
Phichit is literally on the edge of his seat, waiting for the judges to make their call. They don’t have a television in their crappy shared apartment, so he’s commandeered the one in the student lounge. Whenever someone had tried to change the channel, he thinks he might have hissed at them.
Slowly but surely the lounge has filled with people who don’t particularly care about skating, but do care that one of their classmates is performing on international television. There are a few people here who Phichit would even say he and Yuuri are friends with, which is really sweet, and he means to take a selfie of everyone to send to his friend later, but right now he can’t bring himself to look away from the screen for even a second.
When the scoreboard flashes 104.6 across the screen, he literally screams and starts jumping up and down on the couch. It takes everyone else a beat, because he’s betting not a single one of them know how the scoring works, but as soon as they see how happy he is they start cheering as well.
The photo he gets of everyone is a little blurry, but he’s tackled by his science lab partner a moment later, so it’s the best he’s going to get.
~
Celestino knocks on the wall before walking the rest of the way into the changing room, just to make sure he doesn’t startle his student. Yuuri is mostly changed, his uniform neatly folded on the bench as he pulls a sweater over his head. Celestino can tell he’s still pretty dazed from his score, and Celestino doesn’t blame him – that’s the best short skate score he’s ever received. “The rest of the competitors along with the Russians are waiting for you. They all want to go out to dinner.”
Yuuri blinks, his dark eyes wide. “Oh. What? I don’t normally go out with – with everyone.”
“Maybe it’s time your started,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “Giomatti and that Crispino girl always seem to get you in more trouble than anything.”
“It’s fun,” he says, more as a statement than as a defense. He’s cautious, looking at him from the side of his eyes and pursing his lips. Celestino fully expected to have to be the one who brought up the elephant in the room, but maybe Phichit is right and these Russians are doing Yuuri some good, because he blurts out, “Do you want to – should we – we should probably talk. About us.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, you make us sound like some sort of estranged lovers,” he teases. Yuuri flushes and starts sputtering, and it’s almost a relief, to see that the boy he’s spent the past few years training hadn’t disappeared in the weeks since he’s seen him last. “I was upset, and I still am, but I’m old enough to admit that I acted poorly. I’m okay with chalking this up to poor behavior on both our parts if you are.”
Yuuri deflates, and he finally meets his eyes head on. “Yes! Please. I’d like that.”
“I thought so,” he ruffles his hair, and is gratified when Yuuri leans into the touch. “Still, you have some decisions to make. I’m assuming you plan to go back to Russia, and not to Detroit with me?’
Yuuri hesitates, biting at his lower lip, but nods. Celestino had figured as much. Yakov had finally filled him in on what exactly Yuuri has been up to. He supposes if he’d returned the other man’s calls, or even Yuuri’s, he would have found all this out a lot sooner.
“That’s fine,” he says, and his student blinks at him. “We’ll remain silent to the press about what exactly is going on, and we’ll all sit down and figure out what we’re going to do. After the Grand Prix Final, which, after seeing you skate today, I’m sure you’ll qualify for. Okay?”
Some things definitely have changed, because shy, reserved Yuuri throws himself at him, giving him a quick, hard hug and whispering, “Thank you!” before letting go, grabbing his uniform, and bolting out of the changing room.
Celestino is left alone in the locker room, unable to do anything besides blink.
That’s new.
~
Viktor had been hoping for a moment alone with Yuuri, but hadn’t gotten one. He’d come out of the locker room, and been immediately attacked by Sara Crispino, who had jumped into his arms and kissed both his cheeks in congratulations. He’s never been so jealous of another person in his whole life. Also, seeing the ease that Yuuri catches Sara reminds him of how strong he is. Viktor is taller than him, but Yuuri probably could pick him up just as easily as he had Sara. Which is certainly an interesting thought, but one he shouldn’t focus on too long while in public.
Yura stays glued to Yuuri’s side all through dinner, and Sara is draped over him on his other side. Mila sits next to Sara, and Viktor ends up almost across from Yuuri, sandwiched between Georgi and Michele, the latter of whom spends the whole dinner glaring at Yuuri. He’s vaguely familiar with the other competing skaters, but he doesn’t know them personally. He’s pulled into their conversation anyway, it would be incredibly rude not to answer their questions when they’re sharing a table, after all. He barely gets to exchange any words with Yuuri, never mind getting any alone time with them.
Thankfully, the dinner doesn’t last long. The free skate is the next day, after all, so all the competing skaters are eager to get to bed early. Everyone finally disperses in the hotel lobby, Yura included, even if he does give Viktor a suspicious stare for not following him upstairs. Luckily, Michele pulls him away. Viktor makes a note to do something nice for the man later, even he does have some sort of weird vendetta against Yuuri.
“What’s up?” Yuuri asks, and he’s paused in the middle of the hallway, leaning back against the wall. “You’ve been jumpy all night. Is something wrong?”
He’d thought he’d done a pretty good job of hiding it, but clearly not. Or maybe Yuuri just knows him that well. He really likes the idea of that. “So, um, I got a room here, right?”
“Right,” Yuuri agrees, a smile around the edge of his mouth.
“But Celestino took my room. Yakov woke me up and kicked me out, and Celestino gave me his key, so I kind of put my stuff in your room. Is it okay if I sleep there? I don’t want to bother you or anything, you have a really important skate tomorrow, is all, and I can absolutely force Georgi and Mila to share with me, or Yura. Or I can get Yura to switch with me! You won’t mind him, and he probably doesn’t want me sleeping with you anyway – NEXT TO! He probably doesn’t me sleeping next to you, is what I me–”
Yuuri places his hand over Viktor’s mouth, laughing as he cuts off his waterfall of words. “You can stay in my room Viktor, it’s fine. We’ve already shared a couch. We can share a room.”
His mind immediately goes back to that night, to Yuri heavy and warm at his side, and his voice comes out higher pitched than normal when he says, “Yeah, okay. Thank you.” It also comes out a little muffled, since Yuuri’s hand is still over his mouth. His lips press against Yuuri’s skin while he talks, and it’s probably really messed up of him to be as turned on as he is right now.
“No problem,” Yuuri says, lowering his hand. Is he blushing, or is it just the horrible fluorescent lights, or even just Viktor’s imagination? He can’t tell. “It’s probably for the best anyway, considering we’re supposed to be dating. It would be weird if they found out we were staying in separate rooms.”
“Right,” Viktor agrees, mouth dry. The whole world thinks he’s sleeping with Yuuri. That he gets to spend his nights curled over him, touching him, kissing him. “We should, uh, probably get going. To your room. Our room.”
“Yeah,” Yuuri says, except he’s still leaning against the wall, and they’re so close their chests are nearly touching, and it would take nothing at all for Viktor to lean down and press their lips together, to kiss him like Yuuri kissed him on that night so many months ago. But Yuuri clears his throat and repeats, “Yeah,” a little more loudly. He pushes himself away from the wall and therefore into Viktor, and for a single delicious moment Yuuri’s body is up against his, and then he’s walking down the hall.
It takes Viktor almost a full fifteen seconds before his brain comes back online so he can run down the hall to catch up with Yuuri instead of staring at a blank wall like an idiot.
Somehow the simple acts of getting ready for bed together seem more intimate than anything else they’ve done, than making out in clubs or going on a date or curling up together on his couch.
He spends a long time just listening to the rise and fall of Yuuri’s breathing before following his fake boyfriend into sleep.
~
It’s intolerably early in the morning, but Yuri has already been here for ten minutes and Katsudon should be here by now. It’s not like him to oversleep, especially the day of a competition. He’s just about made up his mind to go track him door when he burst through the door, “Sorry, sorry! I got distracted this morning, sorry!”
“It’s fine,” he says, biting his lip to keep from smiling as Katsudon frantically changes into his skates. “It’s your practice for your competition that you have today. Far be it from me to stand in the way of your very important beauty sleep.”
“I said I’m sorry!” he says, just a few octaves off from a wail, and Yuri loses him composure completely and spends nearly two minutes clutching the side of the rink and laughing until he can’t breathe.
He only stopes when Katsudon skates over and starts poking him in the side, babbling over his laughter that he really needs to work on his triple flip, can he please focus? Except he can’t, and it ends in them spending their first ten minutes on the ice playing an increasingly ridiculous game of tag.
~
Mila wakes to Sara’s alarm, but the Italian skater only irritably throws in across the room, choosing to burrow deeper into Mila’s side instead of getting ready for practice. Neither of them had bothered to put their clothes on after they’d finished, and Mila can just tell that getting out of the warm cocoon of their tangled limbs underneath the heavy blanket will be a nightmare.
“I’m surprised Michele hasn’t barged in here yet,” she says, pressing a kiss to the corning of Sara’s mouth, wondering if they have enough time to make use of their lack of clothing before she really has to leave for some last second practice. Probably not.
Sara kisses her back, very much on her mouth and settles her thigh between Mila’s legs. Clearly she has a very different concept of time and punctuality. How Italian. “He knows I’m with you, and he likes you. He says you’re the only person he trusts me with, which is kind of insulting, because I can take care of myself, despite his personal beliefs. But it does mean he won’t come barging in here, even if I’m late for practice.”
Mila likes to pretend she doesn’t have emotions, but she can’t help but be touched. Georgi is as good as her brother, she’s known him practically her whole life and loves him as dearly as she does the rest her family. Not that she’d ever tell him that. But he would never dare to get propriety with her, even if he was worried, because she would drop kick him in the face.
But Michele isn’t like that. Sara can hide it better, but their freaky codependent relationship runs both ways, and Sara is suspicious of any woman that tries to get close to her brother. Michele is straight up fanatical about keeping Sara safe and happy, and that he thinks Mila is someone who could keep his beloved sister safe and happy is – is really –
She flips them over and pins Sara to the bed, pressing a trail of kisses from her lips down her sternum.
If Sara isn’t going to rush off to practice, Mila isn’t going to waste their time together not getting laid.
~
Yuuri is about to start his free skate, and he’s nervous, because he’s always nervous, but it’s not overwhelming. He can still think and breathe and he’s not on the edge of a panic attack like he so often is right before a competitive skate. Mila and Georgi are in the stands. Viktor’s joined them in the kiss and cry because Yakov had said it would be weird if he wasn’t there, since he’s supposedly Yuuri’s boyfriend. Yura’s there too, because Yura had growled at Yakov when he’d tried to get him to sit in the stands with his rinkmates, and Yakov hadn’t tried again.
There’s something at the back of his mind, like a thought he can’t quite articulate, and it’s unsettling him. He’s not nervous, but he’s not exactly focused either, aware something is bothering him but unsure about what exactly ‘it’ is.
He’d been late for meeting Yura this morning because he’d gotten into a discussion with Viktor about the decline in quality of Kit-Kat flavors, which was a weird conversation to have possibly ever, but doubly so at four in the morning. Except it hadn’t felt weird. Yuuri sometimes struggled to hold mundane conversations with people he liked and knew, and there he was, chattering away to Viktor about the most inane of topics like it’s nothing.
He steps onto the ice and the music starts, and he should be focusing on his routine. It is, quite literally, the most important thing to him and his career at this moment. He’s going through the moves perfectly, but he’s still distracted, thinking about Viktor’s sleep rough voice and the way he had the lines of the sheets imprinted onto his face this morning, and his hair had been all mussed into the back. Besides that first night he spent with Viktor and Chris, and he really doesn’t remember much of it anyway, he doesn’t think he’s ever struggled to find words with Viktor. Which is so odd, because he struggles with everyone, at least in the beginning. He can keep a steady flow of words with Phichit, Chris, and Sara now, but that took a lot of time to build. It didn’t happen automatically, or easily.
The closest thing to what he has with Viktor is his relationship with Yura, but that makes sense, even if he doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t have much to compare it to, but it in almost no time at all Yura felt like family, like he was a missing piece in Yuuri’s life. Thanks to Yura he’s a stronger skater, and a better person – a kinder person, even. It was always so easy for him to get lost in his own head, to be selfish without meaning to because his problems were his only problems, for the most part. But Yura doesn’t let him to do that, constantly pulling his attention to him, and to Yuuri’s strengths. He likes who he’s become since he’s known Yura, but it’s not the same as what he feels with Viktor.
Viktor isn’t making him whole, because he doesn’t have any other missing spaces for him to fill. It’s not even particularly calming being around the man sometimes, because he’s so beautiful. Looking at Viktor is like looking at the sun. It’s shining, and wonderful, but it can hurt. He’s always known that, really, he’s always been a fan of Viktor’s, so he’s not sure what has changed recently. Sure, there’s the laughter, and the softness in the center of his chest when he’s with Viktor, and how when Viktor doesn’t think anyone’s paying attention he’ll look so sad, and sometimes some of the things he says just break Yuuri’s heart, because Viktor is wonderful. He’s wonderful and beautiful and kind, even if he’s an over dramatic disaster, and he hates seeing Viktor sad, because he’s in lo –
He’s in lo –
He can’t get himself to complete the thought, and he doesn’t get a chance to try again, seeing as he’s so deep in thought that he messes up his triple flip and crashes face first into the ice. He’s on his feet a moment later, although the entire left side of his face is throbbing and raw. He can’t tell if the liquid running down his face is sweat or blood. He glides straight back into his routine, and resists the urge to poke at his teeth with his tongue to see if any of them have come loose.
That fall almost definitely destroyed his chances of getting to the Grand Prix Final, but he can’t really bring himself to freak out about that right now. He’s much to busy freaking out over – over realizing that he – that’s he’s –
He’s in love with Viktor.
Being in lust with Viktor is old news, and hardly makes him unique. But he loves him, loves not the image of Viktor but the man, the person who looks sad in produce aisles and forgets to plan dates and is one of the very few people that Yura trusts and who smiles at him with green onion stuck in his teeth as he compliments his cooking, his mother’s recipe. That’s who Yuuri’s in love with.
Yuuri is in love with Viktor.
~
When Katsudon goes down, there’s an audible gasp from the audience. It’s bad, he misses the landing and lands in a twisted pile of limbs. It looks like a fall that ends up breaking something, that will effect the rest of the season.
He and Viktor both fling their arms out to prevent the other from jumping forward, realize what they’ve done, and pull their arms back.
“MEDIC!” Yakov shouts, but Celestino hisses, “Not yet!” and frantically shoves his hand over Yakov’s mouth.
Yuri can’t look away, gripping the edge of the rink, biting his lip to keep from crying out. A second later Katsudon is pushing himself up and onto his feet, flawlessly getting back into the routine like nothing had happened. Viktor’s sigh of relief leaves him like air leaves a popped balloon, but Yuri can’t even spare the time to make fun of him for it.
Half of Katsudon’s face is torn up and bleeding, but he’s skating. It doesn’t look like he broke anything, like his ankle or arm or – or his back. He looks fine.
The last forty five seconds of Katsudon’s free skate are possibly the longest forty five seconds of his life.
~
Viktor is reaching for Yuuri as soon as he steps off the ice, cupping his face in his hands pressing the edge of his sleeve against the cut along his upper jaw. “Yuuri! Are you okay? That looks like it really hurt!” He’s so, so grateful for his cover as Yuuri’s boyfriend, which gives him an excuse to manhandle him like this.
“I’m fine!” he says, eyes wide, “Really, uh – just, just fine. Must have looked worse than it felt.”
“You’re bleeding,” he says, distressed, and he’s surprised Yura hasn’t pushed him aside to check on Yuuri for himself yet. Instead the younger skater is hovering next to them, lips pressed into a hard line but not making any move to get in middle of them.
Lights are flashing everywhere, and he’s sure pictures of the two of them will end up all over the internet by tomorrow, but he really, really doesn’t care. “It’s okay,” he says, “It’s not a big deal.”
Viktor makes a disagreeable sound in the back of his throat. Yuuri fell and he’s bleeding and it is, in fact, a very big deal!
“Okay, okay, we’ll get you checked out later to be sure,” Celestino says, somehow managing to elbow in between them and place his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, guiding him over to where they’ll announce his score. It happens so quickly that Viktor can only make an aborted gesture to reach after Yuuri as he’s pulled away.
It’s then that he notices Yuuri’s blood has stained the edge of his sleeve, which shouldn’t be surprising considering he literally pressed it against his bleeding wound. But seeing the stark red against the crisp white of his sweater seems – barbaric, almost. He doesn’t like it.
~
Yuuri is shocked when scores come up, and when all is said done and he manages to scrape his way onto another podium. His fall hurt his score, but he still managed to get bronze, right behind Michele.
Which means, by some miracle, he’s qualified for the Grand Prix Final.
Michele and Sara have as well, and Sara is absolutely ecstatic at the news. She runs over to him as soon as they all leave the kiss and cry. “We should go out!” she says excitedly, “Me and my two favorite boys are going to the Grand Prix Final together! In Sochi! We’ll be in Russia!”
“I’m in Russia now,” he feels compelled to point out, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Going out with Sara never ends well for him. “Maybe I should just stay in tonight? Yura came all this way to see me, and it seems rude to leave him on his own–”
“Nonsense!” Celestino says, clapping Yuuri hard enough on the shoulder that he staggers. “You should celebrate your victory! Yuri won’t mind. Will you, Yuri?”
Yuuri looks over to Yura, and he’s shaking his head. “You should have fun with your friends.”
Something seems off about Yura, and he can’t put his finger on what, so he feels compelled to say, “You’re my friend. I really don’t need to go out drinking to have fun.”
Yura relaxes a little, but something still seems not quite right. “Go out drinking. I’ll be fine,” he says, and he sounds genuine, but Yuuri can’t help but have the niggling feeling that something is wrong.
“Go on, you’ve earned it,” Celestino says, but the gleam in his eyes gives Yuuri the impression that he’s not completely over the weeks of radio silence, and he definitely considers this punishment.
Yakov sighs, “It’s probably not a bad idea. You could use the publicity,” carefully not saying that it would be good for Viktor and him to be photographed together considering the mixed company, but certainly implying it.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, feeling unnecessarily ganged up on. If nothing else, it can’t be worse than the last time he went clubbing in Paris with Sara.
Sara squeals and jump into his arms, and he catches her in a bridal hold almost on instinct. She does that a lot. “Yay, we’re going to have so much fun!”
He realizes then that the Grand Prix, he and Sara and Chris are all going to be at the same event, and there’s no way he’s going to survive that.
~
When Sara tells them what the game plan is, wide eyed and innocent, Georgi understands completely why Mila likes her so much (Mila might think she’s slick, but he’s known her since they were kids, and he’s known been dating Sara since the beginning.)
It’s a plan of pure evil.
Granted, it’s also pretty straight forward: Get Yuuri and Viktor drunk and push them at each other until they’re forced to do something about all that sexual tension. He doesn’t know how effective it will be, but most of his relationships end in the most dramatic fashion possible, so he doesn’t have a lot of room to talk.
Sara’s smart, so they’re not going out with the other skaters, the ones that Yuuri knows but who aren’t actually his friends. It’s him, Mila, Sara, Michele, and Viktor, meaning Yuuri should be comfortable, but he’s been twitchy all night. He initially chalks it up at his guilt at leaving Yura behind, but halfway through the walk to the first club Sara leans over and whispers, “Don’t worry, he’s always like this at the beginning of the night. He’ll be fine once we start drinking.”
He finds that a little hard to believe. The Yuuri he knows is quiet and shy and not someone who would feel comfortable at all in nightclubs. Then again, he’d worried Yuuri would show up in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, which is what he wears most of the time back in St. Petersburg. But he’d come down in skinny jeans that had looked like they’d needed to be poured on and a slim black button up, which sounds simple and fairly conservative, but somehow managed to make Yuuri look like he was a hop and skip away from working on a street corner. Viktor had practically started salivating when they’d met up in the lobby of the hotel. Georgi wonders if he could bribe Yuuri into wearing some mesh next time they went out. It’s entirely possible that if he could get Yuuri into a mesh top over those tight jeans, and possibly some eyeliner if he can get away with it, that Viktor would literally combust or possibly fall to his knees and weep. Either one would be hilarious and entirely worth it.
His conservative estimation of Yuuri is chucked out the window about ten minutes after they get to the club. There’s no keeping a low profile with the group they’re in, and they’re already getting some stares, and the longer people stare the tenser Yuuri becomes.
Sara goes to the bar and comes back with six shots of clear alcohol. “Here! This will make you feel better.”
“I don’t know if I should do hard liquor tonight,” Yuuri says nervously, “Someone can have my shot.”
“Oh, Yuuri,” Sara says, the thinnest layer of false disappointment covering her unholy glee, “these are all for you.”
Viktor looks conflicted, but Georgi’s eyes bug out of his head. Yuuri has a lot of muscle on him, but he’s not exactly a large man. If he starts off with six shots now, they’re going to end up having to carry him home an hour later. He says, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Shut up,” Sara says pleasantly, but with the same undercurrent of steel that Mila has that makes him obey instantly. She pushes the six shots closer to Yuuri. “Drink, mi passerotto. I insist.”
Viktor opens his mouth, hopefully to stop this insanity. Before he gets the chance Yuuri mutters, “You’re a monster,” at Sara, and does all six shots in under a minute, one after another.
“Holy shit,” Mila grins, “I like how this is going.”
“Fuck this,” Yuuri says, and Michele’s stone face collapses as he snickers into his hand. Georgi thinks he must be dreaming. “Shots take too long, I’m just going to get the bottle.”
Yuuri disappears into the crowd, and he turns to Michele and Sara, “Are you two shitting me right now?”
“Drunk Yuuri is the best Yuuri!” Sara says excitedly.
Michele snorts, “Drunk Yuuri is a flirt. Luckily he’s gotten himself a boytoy,” he jerks his thumb at Viktor, who looks concerningly excited at being called Yuuri’s boytoy. “You’re on Yuuri wrangling duty. Don’t let him get kidnapped by a group of pretty people into a sex cult or an orgy.”
“Does that happen often?” Georgi asks, horrified.
“Every time,” Sara and Michele chorus as one.
What the fuck.
“Oh dear,” Viktor sighs. He follows his rinkmate’s gaze.
Yuuri is sitting on the bar, long legs crossed and one arm braced behind him. He’s got his other hand wrapped around a bottle of top shelf tequila, which he’s pouring directly into his mouth, head tilted back and pale neck exposed as his slick pink lips slide over the neck of the bottle. It’s obscene.
It’s also definitely not allowed, but the bartender looks like the last think on her mind is telling him off. Georgi really can’t blame her. He’s pretty sure that if temptation had a physical form, it would be Yuuri Katsuki deep throating a bottle of tequila.
~
Yuuri probably should have seen this happening from the beginning. They start out as a group, but within a couple hours everyone has broken apart. Mila and Sara are nowhere to be found, although he catches occasional glimpses of Georgi and Michele dancing with various women.
He has a high alcohol tolerance, so it generally takes him a significant about of time before he becomes well and truly drunk. But considering his recent revelation about his feelings for Viktor, being next to the man is hell, because nothing has changed, but also everything has changed. His heart is beating too fast and his face is hot, and whenever Viktor’s eyes lock on his it almost feels like the beginnings of a panic attack.
There is simply no way to explain any of that without confessing his newly found feelings (not an option) or looking like a crazy person. He doesn’t want to get drunk and slip, doesn’t want to say something that he’ll regret later and will possibly ruin his relationship with Viktor forever. But then Sara puts the shots in front of him, and he takes the path of least resistance – getting so astoundingly, mind-numbingly drunk that he it won’t even occur to him to have a panic attack over the fact that he’s in love with Viktor Nikiforov.
It works astoundingly well, except that he pops out on the other side, and all he wants to do is pin Viktor to vertical surfaces and have his way with him. To his alcohol soaked brain, there’s absolutely no reason he shouldn’t do that, so he does.
~
Viktor is a little hazy, having downed one or two or three too many brightly colored drinks with the little umbrellas in them. He’d thought Yuuri wrangling would be a hard job, but it’s surprisingly easy, since Yuuri seems to want nothing more than to stay glued to his side, which is incredibly flattering and also makes him feel like a teenage girl.
They’ve been stuck in the throng of bodies for a while, he lost track of time a long time ago, and having Yuuri rubbing his body all over him and putting his hands all over him is driving him insane, and is most of his motivation for getting brightly colored drink after brightly colored drink. “Come on,” Yuuri says, damp breath against his skin, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “I want to get some air.”
“Okay,” he says, because Yuuri could literally suggest anything to him in that moment and he would agree.
He drags them outside the back of the club, to an alley where a couple of people are smoking and chatting far from the door, but is otherwise empty. The cool air is an instant relief, they’re soaked with sweat and he hadn’t realized how hot he was until he wasn’t anymore. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks, looking to Yuuri.
Yuuri doesn’t answer. Instead he pushes him against the brick wall and goes on his tip toes so he can press his hands onto the wall on either side of Viktor’s head. Yuuri’s gorgeous brown eyes are hypnotically close, and Viktor doesn’t feel chilled anymore, his entire body is on fire as Yuuri slides his thigh in between Viktor’s legs. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, and Viktor can feel his breath ghosting over his lips. His heart constricts, conflicted, because Yuuri thinks he’s beautiful, but – so many people think he’s beautiful. He wants Yuuri but he doesn’t know if he can stand just being a beautiful person for Yuuri to touch when Viktor loves him with every fiber of his being, has loved him for nearly a year, since the first time they went drinking together. Yuuri continues muttering, “Love the way you’re so worried about your shirt matching your socks of all things, your ridiculous taste in clothes, how excited you get over good food, over my food, the way you’re so patient with Yura, so patient with me, love your kindness, Vitya, it’s all so beautiful, it makes you so beautiful.”
Oh. Oh.
He’s crying as he tilts his head enough to close to the inch of space between them, and his head is spinning with alcohol and Yuuri’s words echoing though his head, and he’s very certain that if he doesn’t kiss Yuuri right this instant, he will die. Yuuri makes an eager little sound against his mouth that make’s all of Viktor’s blood rush south, and it’s not cold out here at all, all at once he’s just as hot as he was in the center of the club. “Wanna go back to our room?” Yuuri asks, biting up his neck, and Viktor knows there’s a reason that that’s a bad idea, but he’s had many drinks and Yuuri is against him, warm and hard and gorgeous, and he can’t think of what it could possibly be.
Yuuri thinks he’s beautiful, but not like everyone else, thinks he’s beautiful because of who he is, not what he looks like, and it’s the simplest thing in the world for him to say, “Yes.”
~
By the time they get back to the hotel, Yuuri has sobered up enough to realize that going to bed with Viktor, the man he’s recently realized he’s in love with, is courting disaster. But he doesn’t actually care, because for some incomprehensible reason Viktor wants him, and he’s not going to pass up his chance to have Viktor’s hands on him, his mouth on him.
There’s a chance that sex could ruin their friendship, that they’ll wake up in the morning and think it’s a mistake, that he’ll lose the easiness between them that he values so much. But the man he loves is grabbing his ass and whispering filthy things in Russian in his ear, and he’s willing to risk it. They’re stumbling down the hallway to their room when a familiar voice says, “Oh my god! Sorry, I didn’t – sorry!”
Yuuri pushes Viktor away, and only has a moment to feel bad about Viktor stumbling back into the hallway wall before he sees Yura sitting on the floor next their hotel room door, eyes rimmed red and mouth open in surprise. “Yurochka!” he says, falling hard to his knees beside him. He reaches out a clumsy hand to cup his cheek, carefully looking at his pale face and the obvious signs of crying. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing!” he says, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry, I’m really sorry, I didn’t think – I’ll go now, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He tries to scramble to his feet, but Yuuri clamps a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from standing.
The adrenaline and worry has a better sobering effect than anything else, and he tries to push away his drunken haze so he can focus on Yura. “Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. What were you waiting for me for? Was someone mean to you?” If someone made Yura cry, he is one hundred percent sober enough to track them down and punch them in the face.
Yura shakes his head. “Nothing, it was nothing, it was stupid.”
“Nothing that upsets you is stupid,” Viktor says, hesitantly kneeling on the other side of Yuuri. Yura shrinks away from him, ducking his head down, and Viktor looks at Yuuri helplessly.
“I got it,” he says, and mourns for the briefest of moments the sex he’s definitely not going to have tonight. “Go get ready for bed, I’ve got this.”
Yura tries to bolt again, but he doesn’t let him. “No, don’t – I’m really sorry, I didn’t think that you two would be – that you were – um, you know.”
Viktor hesitates, but leans down to press a quick kiss to Yura’s forehead. “Don’t worry about it. You’re more important.” He squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder briefly before going into their room and quietly shutting the door behind him. The fact that he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered about the change of plans for the night is on one hand a little bit of blow to his ego, but also if Viktor had indicated at all that he wanted Yuuri to leave Yura alone and upset he would have had to punch him.
He shifts so he’s sitting next to Yura with his back to the wall and curls his arm around Yura’s shoulders, pulling the smaller boy against his side. He’s stiff for a moment, but the he melts into it, throwing his arm around Yuuri’s stomach. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he repeats. “What’s going on?”
“I just,” he tenses a little and says almost too quietly to hear, “the fall looked really bad, is all. And sometimes injuries that are really bad don’t hurt at first, and – and it looked like you fell on your back, is the thing, just for a moment. And I know the medic said you were fine, and you said you were fine, and Yakov said you were fine – but I just, I was just being stupid, is all,” he says, but the last bit comes out choked, and Yuuri doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s crying again.
Yuuri feels like a complete and total moron. Yura’s grandfather is in the hospital thanks to a fall, and he’d had to wait in the hospital with him alone, had had to deal with all that alone until Yuuri could get to him. Then Yuuri wipes out right in front of him. It’s not wonder that Yura is freaking out and worried and panicking. Maybe it’s not entirely logical, but if anyone can understand the crushing panic and fear from things that aren’t entirely logical, it’s Yuuri.
He, more than anyone, should have seen this coming. He’d known Yura was upset about something, but he hadn’t known what, and he’s brushed it off and left him alone anyway. “You’re not being stupid at all, Yurochka. It was scary for you when I fell, wasn’t it?”
Yura freezes, and then turns completely so he’s full on hugging Yuuri with his face buried in his chest. He nods, breaths hitching and shoulders shaking. “I know you’re fine, I didn’t mean to ruin your night, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I figured if I waited for you and saw you were fine I wouldn’t worry anymore, so I did, but I didn’t mean to ruin anything!”
“Nothing is ruined,” Yuuri says, rubbing his hand in soothing circles along Yura’s back. “How about I spend the night in your room, and that way you can keep an eye on me? Would that make you feel better?”
He pulls back and wipes at his eyes, “But don’t you want to,” his eyes flicker to the hotel room door.
“He’s probably already asleep anyway,” Yuuri says firmly, “I’m fine, Yurochka. But if you need to see it to believe it, I’m okay with that.”
Yura stares at him for several long moments, getting his tears under control and searching for any hint of lie. Then he looks down and says, “If – if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Never,” Yuuri swears, pulling them both to their feet. “Let’s go.”
~
Viktor knows it’s not a very nice thing to do, but he’s seated on the floor of their hotel room with his ear pressed to the crack, straining to hear their conversation.
When Yuuri offers to go with Yura, he can’t be surprised, or upset. Yura is a kid, and the list of people he trusts completely is very short. In fact, it contains exactly two people – his grandfather, and Yuuri. It’s no wonder at all he freaked out at the thought of both of his trusted people being hurt.
Still, he can’t help the feeling of his heart constricting in his chest as he listens to them walk away. Yuuri had wanted him, and it would have been – they would have woken up the next morning, and Viktor could have spirited Yuuri away to breakfast, and they could have had an adult conversation about what it all meant. They couldn’t avoid it anymore if they’d slept together, for better or worse they would have had to talk about it. After Yuuri’s ramblings in the alleyway, he can’t help but think that maybe Chris has been right this whole time, maybe Yuuri really did like him, not just as an attractive man to make out with, but as Viktor. Which means the hopeful end result to this breakfast would be Yuuri agreeing to be his boyfriend for real, not just as a media ploy, and the two of them going back to their room to have sex again before packing to fly back to Russia together, to then have even more sex all over his apartment.
But instead he’s alone in this room, covered in sweat and alcohol, and with pressure steadily building behind his eyes that he’s doing his best to ignore. Yura needs Yuuri more, so this is fine, it’s all fine, and he’s fine.
He’s fine.
~
Yuri wakes up with the strangest crick to his neck, and he’s confused as to why until the events of last night catch up to him, his embarrassing breakdown and Katsudon comforting him and offering to stay with him, and the two of them squeezing into his too small bed so he could press his ear against Katsudon’s chest and assure himself that his heart was still beating, that he wasn’t going to have to deal with the other most important person in his life getting hurt so soon after his Grandfather.
He’s alone in bed now, and he turns over to see Katsudon sitting in the window sill, still in last night’s clothes and a distant look in his eyes as he looks out over the Paris skyline. Yuri curls up under the blankets and pillows his head in his arms, just watching him for several minutes before he works up the courage to say, “I didn’t know that you and Viktor were – are – you know. I thought it was just a cover for the media.”
Katsudon startles at the sound of his voice, but he’s smiling when he turns his head to look at him, and Yuri can’t help but smile back. “We’re not!” he says when what Yuri said catches up with him, cheeks flushing. “Last night was just – just a mistake is all. I mean I – but I’m sure that Viktor doesn’t, so, so, yeah,” he finishes lamely.
Yuri keeps starring at him, and he doesn’t know if other people think Katsudon’s a good liar, because as far as Yuri’s concerned he’s pretty crap at it. He pushes himself out of bed and walks over to him, standing directly in front of him. Katsudon raises a single eyebrow and tilts his head to the side. Yuri asks, “Do you have feelings for Viktor?”
“No!” he says, eyes wide, which is so clearly a confirmation.
“Oh boy,” he sighs, and boosts himself up to sit on the window ledge as well. Katsudon pulls his knees up against his chest to make room. “Look, I know you have self esteem issues,” Katsudon rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest, which is progress, “but you trust me, right? You know I wouldn’t lie to you, or make fun of you, right? I would never tell you something that isn’t true.”
“Of course,” Katsudon says with gratifying quickness. “Why?”
On one hand, this will almost certainly mean he’ll have to deal with even more Viktor in his life than before. On the other hand, if Viktor can make Katsudon happy, that’s the only thing that really matters here. “Viktor is an idiot,” he begins, “but also he’s in love with you, which is the least idiotic thing he’s done to date.”
Katsudon’s mouth drops open. “Um, I don’t think, I mean – what, uh.”
Yuri raises a single finger and then launches into a speech about every piece of evidence he can think of that proves Viktor is head over heals in love with Katsudon.
~
Viktor has just stepped out of the shower, a towel knotted around his waist and hair in his eyes, when Yuuri bursts into their room, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and looking unfairly good in them. How is that even possible? No human being should look so beautiful after falling straight into bed after a night of hard partying.
He doesn’t get more than a couple seconds to appreciate the view before Yuuri says, words tumbling over each other, “Yura says you’re in love with me, is that true? Because if it is I’m in love with you too. I mean, I guess I’m in love with you whether you love me or not, because that’s how love works, but if – if you do love me, you should know that I love you too. Or if you don’t love me, I guess I just love you, no too added. But no pressure if you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want you to feel pres–”
Viktor freezes at the first sentence, but by the end of that rambling question he’s beaming. He does what Yuuri did to him last night, and pins him against the wall and presses their mouths together. Yuuri freezes, and Viktor starts to back up, worried he’s done something wrong. But then Yuuri’s arms encircle his waist and pull him closer, pressing them together again and Yuuri’s mouth is eager under his.
His towel drops and he’s fumbling at the buttons of Yuuri’s shirt, desperate to touch him, to kiss him. Yuuri finally figures out what he’s doing and pushes him back onto the bed, and he’s flushed red as he looks at Viktor spread out before him. “So is that a yes then?”
“Yes,” Viktor says, and then hooks his foot around the back of Yuuri’s knees and yanks so he falls down on top of him.
They only have a couple hours before they have to leave to catch their flight, and Viktor plans to make the most of them.
~
Chris is curled up under his covers, scrolling through his news feed, when he gets a text message from Viktor.
It’s better than a phone call, but he’s already resigned himself to a three paragraph ode to the curve of Yuuri’s ass. Or, well it’s Viktor, so it’s might be about his ‘gentle spirit’ or whatever.
It’s a picture. He impatiently waits for it to load, and when it does he screams.
It’s Viktor and Yuuri from the waist up, lying in bed and clearly naked. Yuuri’s covered his face with his hands and Viktor is beaming, and there’s absolutely no doubt that the two of them have just had sex. Another message comes in reading: he’s my boyfriend now!! <3 <3 <3
He tries to call both of them, but it goes straight to voicemail, and this is the worst. He’s endured so much, dealt with so much, and they don’t even have the decency to answer his phone call!
Despicable.
~
Yuri was worried things would change, now that Viktor and Katsudon are dating for real, and not just as a ploy for the media.
It doesn’t.
Michele and Sara make fun of Viktor for being love struck to his face instead of behind his back, and Katsudon is now way more shy around paparazzi now that he really is Viktor’s boyfriend. But he doesn’t start spending the night at Viktor’s, he still trains more with Yuri than anyone else, he’s still there for him in a way almost no one else has been his whole life.
He’s incredibly grateful for that, but it’s way too mortifying of a sentiment to ever say out loud, so instead he tries to glare at Viktor a little less since he’s Katsudon’s boyfriend and hopes the sentiment gets across.
~
“You’re over thinking this,” Phichit says, his face filling up Yuuri’s laptop screen as he paces back and forth.
“How can I be overthinking this? It’s a big decision!” he says, and tries not to sound like he’s whining, but almost certain that he does.
Phichit rolls his eyes. “Look, you’re my best friend, and obviously what I want is for you to come back to Detroit and continue being my roommate and my rinkmate. But Viktor Nikiforov is your boyfriend now! You’ll always be my best friend. But long distance relationships are way harder to maintain than long distance friendship.”
“But school! And I don’t even know if Yakov wants to be my coach, I don’t want him to feel obligated just because I’m dating Viktor.”
Phichit sighs, but before he gets a chance to say anything there’s a knock on his door, and Yura comes in without waiting for him to answer. “You guys are so loud, I can hear you, you know,” he bounces down on the edge of Yuuri’s bed. “Yakov would love to take you on, don’t be ridiculous, and it’s not because of Viktor.”
“Ah,” he blinks, sheepish, “sorry Yurochka, I didn’t mean for you to hear any of that.”
He waves his hand, “Whatever, don’t worry about it. But Phichit’s wrong,” Phichit makes an offended sound, but doesn’t attempt to interrupt any more than that. “Don’t stay because of Viktor. If he really loves you, the two of you will manage long distance just fine. If he doesn’t, I’ll be here to punch him in the face. Don’t stay because of me either, Grandpa’s going to be stuck in the hospital for another couple months, but I can take care of myself. So don’t do anything because of Viktor, or me, or the media, or anyone else either. The only reason you should stay is if it’s what you want. You’re family,” he says firmly, “and you’ll stay family even if you go back to Detroit.”
Yuuri stares at him for a long moment, and Yura’s face is slowly turning red from embarrassment. Before he can take any of it back, Yuuri pulls him to feet and grabs him in a tight hug. “Okay then,” he says, trying not to sound as choked as he feels, “I’ll do only what I want then.”
“Good!” Yura says, although it comes out kinda muffled since his face is pressed into Yuuri’s sternum.
He hears the tell tale click as Phichit takes a photo of them through the webcam. He flips him off behind Yura’s back, and knows he angled it correctly when his best friend cackles.
~
In the Grand Prix Finals, Yuuri loses to Viktor by three quarters of point. He takes silver, while Chris gets bronze. He can see Yura and Phichit booing from the stands, Yura’s gold medal from the junior competition around his neck, and he has to bite his lip to keep from laughing as the cameras flash all around them.
“Do I have to drag you out tonight, or will you come willingly?” Chris asks from the corner of his mouth.
Yuuri sighs. Sara, Michele, Mila, and Georgi are all here too. It’s going to be a complete disaster. “Sure.”
Chris beams.
After they get down from the podiums, he goes to stand by Celestino for the last time. There’s a cluster of reporters waiting for them, to officially release what the ice skating world has been buzzing about for weeks – he and Celestino going their separate ways, and his permanent relocation to St. Petersburg to study under Yakov.
And to be closer to his boyfriend and Yurochka, but that’s something he’ll leave to the rumor mill, also known as Phichit.
There’s still so much to figure out – shipping all his stuff from Detroit, and getting his permanent residency for Russia, and finding a university that at least teaches in English once he maxes out how many online credits his current college will accept.
At the very least, he won’t have to worry about finding a place to live. He’s staying with Yurochka until his grandfather is fully recovered, and after that –
Well, Viktor had asked him to move in with him last night.
He knows this should be an ending, moving from Detroit and leaving Celestino, but it doesn’t feel like it.
It feels like the last beginning he’ll ever need.