Warning: puns, mentions of sex, drinking
I haven't been here i R. Also I literally wrote this just for puns and I also love Yuuri being a wingman and I love Yuuri and Phichit being best friends alright
Enjoooyyyy
"I cannot believe you talked me into this, Phichit," Yuuri sighs at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Phichit caps his eyeliner and casts Yuuri a grin. "Who stayed up texting you when you were dating Victor? Who was your wingman? Me. You owe me, Yuuri Katsuki."
"I know." Yuuri sighs again and leans back against the sink. "How do you expect me to pull this off?"
Phichit pats Yuuri's cheek, and Yuuri feels some kind of powder come off. He coughs. "Please Yuuri, we've all seen your Eros performance, not to mention the banquet at Sochi."
"Phichit, please."
"And the way you look at Victor when you think no one is looking-" Phichit casts him another grin, "like he's the best katsudon you've ever seen!"
"Phichit, please!" Yuuri insists, throwing his hands up to cover his heated face.
"You'll do great, Yuuri, I promise." Phichit grabs Yuuri's wrist and pulls him out of the bathroom.
The bar is dimly lit, hot, and clean. Music thumps through the speakers, the bass coursing through his veins and rattling his bones. Suddenly, Yuuri's shirt and jeans seem too hot.
Phichit pulls him in the direction of the bar and points. With a small shove to his back, Yuuri is in the seat beside Phichit's victim before he can turn back.
"Hi," Yuuri greets sheepishly.
"Who are you?" Seung Gil Lee asks without a glance at Yuuri.
"Katsuki Yuuri. I, um," Yuuri casts a nervous glance at Phichit and his friend flashes a thumbs up. "I watched you in the Grand Prix final. You were really amazing."
"Oh yeah," Seung Gil continues with disinterest. "You're the silver medalist, the one that got beat by the little kid."
Yuuri blushes and feels whatever cool demeanor he had vanish. "Y- Yeah. Anyway, I-" Yuuri stops and lets anxiety take over for half a second. Phichit flashes him another thumbs up.
"Don't you have a boyfriend?"
"Oh!" Yuuri snaps back to the conversation. "Actually, he's my fiancé."
"Then why are you flirting with me?" Seung Gil takes a calm sip of his drink. "Did that Italian girl convince you to be her wingman?"
"I- I'm not-" Yuuri splutters. "I'm not trying to flirt with you!"
"Then why are you still here?"
"I am so sorry." Yuuri takes a quick breath and, with a glare at Phichit, says, "Are you from South Korea because you may be my friend's Seoul mate."
"What?" Seung Gil looks at Yuuri for the first time since he sat down, his brows drawn in confusion.
"My friend," Yuuri continues. "I'm his wingman. He's Thai-ing to get a date with you."
"Thai-ing?" Seung Gil repeats, setting down his glass.
"Y- yeah," Yuuri stammers. "He's Thai… It would be funnier if you knew him."
"You can get to know him if you want." Yuuri watches Phichit slide into the seat on Seung Gil's other side, resting his chin in his palm.
"No," Seung Gil says flatly.
"Aw, come on!" Phichit chuckles, his fingers dancing over the grainy bar to rest on Seung Gil's sleeve.
"What could I gain from being friends with you?" Seung Gil deadpans coldly.
A smirk crosses Phichit's face. "There are plenty of benefits. What kind would you want?"
Yuuri takes that as his cue to leave. With a wave to Phichit, he steps into the cold and makes his way back to the hotel room.
The next morning, Yuuri is woken by his phone buzzing furiously. He opens his chatbox with Phichit.
[PrinceOfThailand]
Guess what.
Guess
Yuuri wake up.
[katsukidon]
You woke me up.
[PrinceOfThailand]
I hooked up with Seung Gil
[katsukidon]
Thanks for the pleasant images.
Can I go back to sleep?
[PrinceOfThailand]
Brb he just woke up
[katsukidon]
Phichit can I sleep now or are you going to rant about your sexual exploits
Phichit
Gdi