Hello all, just a few quick words before you get started. As said in the summary, this fic is a companion to the show. Some parts are scenes in the show but told from Victors POV and others (usually ones that I felt were explained fully in the show and didn't require any further story) are skipped over entirely. If you've watched the episodes as many times as I have, it won't be a problem for you to keep up, but if not, you may want to brush up if theres a scene skip and suddenly you don't know what's going on. Don't worry, most of it is covered fairly well, so you should be good either way.

Also, writing alongside a story instead of after the original work or an AU was far more difficult than I expected, and the pacing of this isn't quite my norm. Still, I think it didn't turn out half bad. I do plan to chapter spam it as I get them edited, though. I'm going to try to break them up into episodes, if possible. Hope you enjoy!

"This marks the fifth consecutive Grand Prix final win for Russian skater Victor Nikiforov..."

Those words should have made me happy. They were more than any competitive skater could hope to hear. It meant that for five years in a row, I'd been the best in the world at what I did. While I had solid competition, it was even likely that I could take the gold another year or two before my body started to slow down.

But instead of feeling accomplished, delighted, satisfied, I felt... hollow. I was proud of myself, yes, but there was no excitement. No thrill. Somewhere along the way, I had lost my love of competition. If I couldn't surprise anyone, what was the point? A win simply for the sake of winning wasn't worth it to me. I wanted more. Instead of letting my dismay show, I smiled for the crowd, kissed my metal, and waved as if nothing was wrong. As if my whole world hadn't been turned in on itself.

Who was I without the competitions?

I had been alone for so long that skating had become my whole life. After my parent's deaths, it was the only thing that gave me real pleasure. I had thrown myself into competitive skating, and it hadn't been long before I began winning medals. I could pour my heart out onto the ice, express my deepest emotions through my body's movements, find comfort and clarity in my skating. It was the ultimate thrill to shock and awe not only the crowd, but myself as well. I pushed to higher and higher limits, setting two world records and taking gold after gold.

Now, though, that had become expected of me. No matter how good I was, how passionate my performance, how skilled my moves, it was mundane. So what was left for me? Why should I continue competing if there were no new heights to attain?

I would always love skating. No matter what else, it would always have a huge place in my life. But perhaps this would be my last year doing so competitively. Maybe that was the only surprise left for me to give. Chris would certainly be shocked. I know he'd wanted to skate against me at least one more time. He was determined to beat me some day. I smiled as I thought about how outraged he would be if I denied him the chance. He would understand, though. And Makkachin wasn't getting any younger. It would be nice to spend as much time with him as he had left.

Once I changed out of my costume, I went in search of Yakov. He was scowling furiously at Yuri, which was no surprise. Yakov was scowling more often than not. A few years before, I'd overheard him yelling at Yuri about quads. He'd given me the same lecture about not doing quads until my senior debut. I told my coach to go easy Yuri and tried to encourage him- after all, he would be able to do the quads in a few years, and he didn't need them to win the juniors. Despite the ire in the boy's glare as he spoke to me, I knew he looked up to me. We had skated together many times since Yakov had started coaching him, and he watched me the way one would study a puzzle. Those sharp eyes were continually analyzing me, trying to unravel the secret to my success so he could emulate it. Sometimes, I worried about his intensity. Being passionate about skating was one thing, letting it consume you was another. There was no reason for him to repeat my mistakes. But, I had promised to choreograph a short program for his senior debut if he won the juniors, which he had just done.

I sat to watch the rest of the performances. Part of me wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel room and ponder my future, but I knew there was still the banquet to get through and I would be expected there. Despite my personal turmoil, I wouldn't insult my sport or my competitors by skipping it.

Soon enough, it was time to head down to where the others were gathered. There was an enormous variety of food and a seemingly endless supply of champagne. Despite that, it was rare for anyone to actually get drunk at the banquets. Instead, it was more of a chance to learn and exercise etiquette and refinement. There were times towards the end of the night that space was cleared for a dance floor, and occasionally the skaters got a little enthusiastic in their performances, but that had more to do with excitement than alcohol.

It seemed that one skater was determined to break from the norm, though. Yuuri Katsuki, who I'd heard of, but had never competed with until that very evening, had moved on from drinking his champagne out of flutes to chugging it directly out of the bottle. The man was shorter than me, and while slightly heavier, he was still far from bulky. Surely he couldn't hold his liquor that well. I wondered vaguely how long it would be before he became knock down drunk. Not long, from the looks of it.

I didn't blame him for wanting to drink. This had been his first Grand Prix, and while it was obvious he was a talented skater, he'd let nerves get the better of him. His score hadn't been anything to be ashamed of, but it was far below his potential. He'd gone from third to last and it had been a hard thing to watch. I wondered what he would be like if he could learn to not miss his jumps when he was nervous. Competition even for me, I was fairly certain. His foot work was flawless, and his stamina was astounding.

As if he wanted to drive that exact point home, he began to dance to the music. It was some classical piece I didn't recognize, but I knew instantly that I would never forget it. Any time in the future when I thought of grace or fluidity, that song would play in my head and I would see Yuuri dancing. He seemed to move with an ethereal ease, as if the song was already inside of him and he was using his body to release it. I was entranced. If he could dance like this on the ice, he would be unbeatable. My earlier estimation of him hadn't been wrong, but I hadn't given his potential enough credit. There was more to him, so much more.

I watched, bemused, as my younger counterpart got drawn into a dance off with the elder Yuuri and several of the other skaters. I saw Chris slip out and wondered how long it would be before he returned with his portable stripper pole. Despite the obvious fun everyone else was having, I hung back. I wanted to watch, to witness these unguarded moments of Yuuri moving across the dance floor. See his body move to the music, bend and sway, as graceful as the ebb and flow of the ocean.

A few others had their phones out to capture pictures or videos of the impromptu performances, and I snapped some for myself. It truly was beautiful. Watching him made something inside me unfurl and expand. Attraction, perhaps? It had been a long time since someone had stirred desire within me. Still, I couldn't deny that there was something incredibly sensual about the dance I was observing. A smile slowly spread across my face. It took me a moment to realize that I was having fun. It was as novel as it was enticing.

Just when I was beginning to think that I might join the others and take the opportunity to watch Yuuri more closely, the man himself swirled right up to me and pulled me in for a dance. The music had a strong Latin beat, and he began the unmistakable tap-tap-stomp of a Paso Doble. I fell into step with him instantly. A swell of joy surge in me unlike anything I'd felt in years. We circled each other, drawn together and then cast apart in the flow of the music. It was exhilarating. I could see that despite the haze of alcohol in his eyes, he was watching me as intently as I was watching him. The music changed far too soon for my taste, but instead of letting me back away, he pulled me flush against his body to lead me through a tango.

My heart began to pound in my chest. Despite being shorter than me, he twirled me around and then dipped me with ease. Our bodies moved in perfect rhythm, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of our suits. He dipped me again, his hand high on my thigh as he held my leg aloft, and for one wild moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.

I waited, breathless. Never before had I experienced such a strong, sudden rush of desire for another person. My lips parted slightly, as if in expectation. His head dipped fractionally closer, then he pulled away. I forced myself not to be disappointed. After all, there wasn't any rush. If this was anything more than a drink induced whim – and I was beginning to desperately hope it was – then we had all the time in the world to see where this led. If my hunch was right at all, then exploring more with Yuuri would be something I wanted to savor slowly.

He slipped off the dance floor and took several long pulls off a bottle of champagne. Really, someone ought to cut him off before he made himself sick. Perhaps after one last drink, I would intervene. I lost sight of him for a few moments, and when I saw him again, his pants were gone and his hideous blue tie was around his forehead like a tribal band. I raised my hand to my lips to stifle my laugh. How could he make such a ridiculous outfit look so incredibly adorable?

I started over to him, intent on removing the bottle from his hand before he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor, but found he was heading my direction already. When he reached me, he staggered drunkenly, then flung himself against me and wrapped both arms around me tightly. I blinked at him in shock. Dimly, I heard him telling me that his family owned a hot spring resort in his home town, and asking me to visit. That in itself was enough to set my heart galloping again, but then he looked up at me, eyes enormous and guileless.

"If I win the dance off, you'll train me, won't you? Be my coach, Victor!" My breath caught, my heart felt as if it had stopped. How was I, or any mere mortal, supposed to resist those supplicating eyes? That earnest demeanor? He couldn't mean it, surely, but there was no hesitation in his gaze. He wanted me to coach him? What about his current coach? What about my career as a fellow skater? Not to mention that I'd never coached before... Most skaters usually spent years building up their reputations as coaches before taking on skaters at our level. And yet here he was, asking me to be the one to train him.

Before I could think of any answer at all, he spun away from me and headed towards the bathroom at a sprint. I barely restrained my chuckle, even as I felt bad for his stomach. He reappeared a few minutes later looking no worse for the wear, and began to dance again. By then, Chris had set up his pole and the two of them spun around on it seductively. A slight blush stained my cheeks as I watched Yuuri preform an inverted flag. It was incredibly erotic, especially considering he was wearing nothing more than tight boxer briefs. The fact that there was an entire room full of people watching him as well in no way lessened the intimacy of it.

All skaters are strong, it's simply a necessity of the profession, but it was obvious that Yuuri had a kind of athleticism that came from years of hard work. I wondered ever so briefly how that strength and flexibility would make him as a lover, and then pushed the thought away. Too soon, far far too soon. Instead, I enjoyed the performance and decided as did nearly all the others, that Yuuri was the winner of the dance off.

Did that mean he would expect me to go to Japan and coach him? Despite the insanity of the idea, it left me excited. I was intrigued, and on more levels than one.

His coach bustled in and swept him from the banquet hall before we could speak again, and I made my way to the hotel not long after, thinking very seriously about my future.

The next morning, I was thankfully hangover free. Not that I'd had that much to drink. Far less than Yuuri, certainly. I wondered how he was feeling. No doubt his head would be killing him. What would he think about his actions the night before? Would be regret having asked me to coach him? Perhaps be embarrassed by his dancing? After all, my experience with him was limited, but it had been far more uninhibited than anything I'd ever seen him do before.

I wondered if he had even meant the request for me to train him. There had been more champagne in his system than any man his size had a right to be able to handle. It was entirely possible that he wanted to forget the whole thing – including the sexual tension between us – which I sincerely hoped wasn't the case. Still, there was little I could do until I had the chance to speak to him about it. I dressed and met up with Yakov and Yuri, then we headed to the airport.

We were walking towards our terminal and I was talking to Yuri about his performance – with him rejecting every bit of advice I gave him – when I spotted Yuuri behind us. I turned and waved. He didn't wave back, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. I'd just been thinking about the fact that while I had many pictures (and videos) of the previous evening, I didn't have a single photo of just the two of us together. When I called out to him asking if he wanted to take one, he turned away without a word.

I stifled the hurt that shot through me. He was likely embarrassed by how drunk he'd been the night before. Maybe he thought I would laugh at him for the request. Or perhaps he didn't want to discuss it in front of his current coach. Either way, I let it go. And enjoyed the sight of him as he walked away.

I boarded the plane that would take me back to Russia and then onto the whirlwind of remaining competitions through the rest of the season. My drive to win hadn't returned, but the thought of Yuuri's request stuck with me, keeping me motivated to finish strong.

I watched his next competition and cringed in sympathy as he fell on nearly every single jump. It was easy to see he was so deep inside his own head that he wasn't able to execute his routine properly. I was frustrated just watching it. He was so talented, there was no reason for him to be having so much trouble. He finished dead last. After that, he left his coach and stopped skating publicly. I wondered, idly, if he was waiting for me. It was an arrogant thought, of course, but it persisted the longer he stayed out of the rink.

When my season finished, I returned to my apartment in St Petersburg alone. Makkachin was ecstatic to see me, which was wonderful, but not for the first time I felt keenly the absence of another person in my life. Coming home to an empty apartment wasn't the most welcoming experience. It had been far too long since my last meaningful relationship, and once more, my mind turned to Yuuri. When I saw him again, would there still be that supercharged sexual tension between us? It was possible that he'd become involved with someone else in the time since I'd seen him last. Really, I knew so little about him. Far too little.

I had been searching the internet for more information about him (perhaps the least reliable place to find accurate information, I knew) when the video link popped up on my phone. I clicked it after barely a glimpse at the title, already half in love with it just because it had his name next to mine. The camera shook, then zoomed in on a lone figure. Yuuri. He lifted his arms, spun, slid to the side. My breath caught. I recognized those movements. How could I not? They were mine. My routine, my choreography. Though it was obvious that he wasn't in peak condition, there was a kind of magic to the way he glided across the ice. A sincerity that even my own performance lacked.

I couldn't look away.

Nothing since the night of the banquet had enticed me so much. I was spell bound, enthralled, compelled to keep watching until the very end. Then I watched it again. This was the Yuuri that had caught my attention. This was the man that could be unbeatable on the ice. Somehow, I knew there was no way he was aware that he'd been filmed. If he'd known, he would have been too self conscious, too nervous. But this was what was inside of him, the potential that lurked just beneath the surface. It only needed brought to the fore.

Excitement began to bubble inside of me. I felt inspired in a way that I hadn't for years. I could bring it out from him. Perhaps he'd known that already, and it was why he'd asked me to coach him. Was this what he thought we could do together? If so, then I didn't want to wait a single moment longer.

I packed up my apartment that afternoon and told Yakov of my plans. He was disapproving, of course, but I hadn't expected anything less. How could I explain to him that the success he'd helped me achieve had become a shackle that held me back? That I needed to find something more if I was to continue on? He wouldn't understand, so I didn't try to explain.

I was on a flight to Japan by that night, and after ten hours in the air, I set foot on the soil of Yuuri's home country. I didn't even pause to take in my surroundings. I took a taxi directly to Hasetsu and found the resort that Yuuri's family owns. Despite my initial hope, I didn't catch sight of the man himself as I checked in. Still, there would be time enough for that. The hot springs that had been spoken of so highly seemed to call to me, and as soon as I had stowed my things, I made my way there. Makkachin wandered off – in search of food, no doubt – and I stripped down to nothing.

The first touch of my skin to the hot water was heaven. It encased my foot, my calf, swirled around my knees. I sank deeper, groaning aloud in bliss. It was wonderful. There were warm towels off to the side, and I laid one across my head to hold in the heat while I relaxed. Every single ache and strain melted away. How did Yuuri not spend his every waking moment in the water?

As if my thoughts had summoned him, there was a commotion from the inner bath rooms. Then, the door slammed open and Yuuri skidded to a halt.

"Victor!" His eyes were wide behind his glasses, mouth open in shock. "Why are you here?" His voice was little more than a whisper. I smothered my smirk and rose from the water, totally unashamed of my nudity.

"Hello, Yuuri. Starting today, I'm going to be your new coach." Was it my imagination, or had his gaze dipped down my body and then back up? "You're going to get to the Grand Prix Final, and you're going to win." I winked at him, unable to prevent myself from flirting. He gasped, then yelled unintelligibly. I took that as a good sign.