A/N: It's late and I feel like I'm gonna pass out... but here we go.
Thanks so much for the support on my first YoI story guys! The amount was mind-blowing for a one-shot in such a short time, so thank you! This is for you guys who requested more like it. It's similar but obviously not because it's a coffee shop AU. The style is the same though because it's from Yurio's perspective. And writing in his perspective is actually really fun I'm glad I did this. Plus it's the same pairings as before. Anyway, please enjoy and thanks again!

Dislcaimer: I don't own YoI

~Café Romantika~

"He's late."

Yuri glared at the building across the street like it had just thrown the worst obscenity imaginable at him. He stood leaning against the outside of a small, cream-colored café named "Romantika." His lip curled just at the thought of it. It translated into "romance" in Russian, and he definitely would never have named a café something to cheesy or would have even chosen to patron one named like that if he could help it... But, of course, this was exactly the kind of place Viktor would adore. So here he was.

And that train of thought led back to why he was so pissed:

Viktor Nikiforov was late. And Yuri Plisetsky hated when anyone was late. Especially if it wasted his time.

"That bastard has some nerve," the blonde growled to himself. Pushing away from the wall, he turned and stalked toward the entrance of Café Romantika, hands shoved in the pockets his blue and white Russia hoodie. If he was here, he may as well make the visit somewhat worthwhile.

Roughly, Yuri shoved the door open and stomped into the shop. He made a beeline for cash register, eyes glaring harshly at the barista until he kicked the counter, and even then he stood with jade-green eyes set hard as stone on him.

"White chocolate mocha. Tall and to go."

The barista looked startled to say the least, brown eyes wide as he stared at his apparent customer, body tensed like a coil. "Uh, right. Right away. May I have a name for your order?"

"Yuri," the blonde bit out. Then, after a second, he glanced down at the barista's chest and saw the nametag pinned to his black apron. Against the silvery piece of metal were five, dark letters: Y-u-u-r-i.

Yuri glared up at him again, jaw clenched. "With one u."

In spite of the tone, Yuuri smiled slightly. "Anything else?"

"A blueberry scone."

"That will be seven ninety-five."

After practically throwing eight dollars down, Yuri shuffled to the side to wait, his back facing the glass display filled with various pastries. He crossed his arms, foot tapping in irritation on the tile floor as he turned his wrathful glare on the door. He still did not see a tall, annoying Russian man walking in like he was supposed to be doing. Bastard.

But he did see someone else walking in: a black-haired, dark-eyed man with a matching laptop bag slung over his shoulder. The glass door opened with the tinkle of a bell, and the man briskly made his way to the counter.

Seeing him, Yuuri smiled. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it in time."

"Traffic was bad" was the only explanation the man offered.

"Well I'll get your order. You'll be late if you don't leave now."

"Thanks."

Yuuri ducked under the counter, presumably looking for the ready-made order, leaving Yuri with this newcomer as they waited to be served.

Briefly, Yuri glanced over at the man, finding nothing better to do than stare at strangers apparently. The man couldn't have been much older than him, he decided. He was probably a university student, but obviously not a native from Detroit by his accent, though Yuri couldn't place where it was from.

Seeming to notice him, the man looked over, and suddenly they had locked gazes, green clashing with what Yuri could only name as black. To another person, this sudden eye contact would have been embarrassing, but to Yuri, it was the exact opposite. He was his own person, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted, so he just continued to stare at the man, silently daring him to say something.

To his surprise, the man's eyes glinted, almost like he was amused, and continued to meet Yuri's eyes as he spoke.

"I've never seen you around here before."

"I normally don't come here," the blond answered brusquely, voice flat as he refused to look away from the challenge (fabricated or not) that faced him. "But my tutor, who is late," he added with contempt,"wanted to meet up here so whatever."

"Well, this isn't a bad café," the stranger commented. "The service is decent and they have pretty good coffee. Plus, the scenery isn't half bad." Subtly, without leaving Yuri, the man's eyes flicked down and back up again.

"Here you go." Just then, Yuuri the barista came back, placing a small, white paper bag on the counter. "Do you want coffee too?"

The man took the bag and placed a five-dollar bill down. "Not enough time. Maybe tomorrow."

"Ok. See you, Otabek. Oh, and here's your order, Yuri."

Another bag along with a coffee cup was placed on the counter.

"Bye, Yuuri," Otabek greeted, but he glanced at the blond beside him as he spoke. Then he turned and headed toward the door.

Yuri's eyes stayed on the back of Otabek's head as he left, and against his will, heat flushed up his neck.

Did he just check me out?

The heat intensified, and before he could dwell too much on the feeling, Yuri grabbed his scone and his coffee and sped to the exit to go the opposite way Otabek had gone.

And that was when Viktor fucking Nikiforov decided to show up.

"Yurio!" the taller man exclaimed as he threw open the door, the bell ringing loudly as a result. "I'm sorry I'm late. Traffic was really bad."

Yuri felt the flush creep up again but fought it back with sheer will and possibly some internal yelling at the autonomous functions of his body. "So I heard."

"You're not planning on leaving?" Viktor asked, silvery-blue eyes shining with guilt. "I'm only fifteen minutes late. We can still study for a while. Please?"

"…You're buying me another coffee for being late."

The older man's face immediately brightened and Yuri was tempted to shield his eyes. Possibly remove them. "Great! Now just pick a table, I won't be gone for more than two seconds."

"Tch, I'll be counting."

Without another word, Yuri turned back around and went to the nearest table closest to the wall. Placing his food down and tossing his bag to the ground, Yuri sat and propped his feet on the table to show just how pissed he really felt. To add even more emphasis, he crossed his arms over his chest and turned a glare over in Viktor's direction.

And then he proceeded to regret ever agreeing to step foot in this damn café with Viktor fucking Nikiforov and seriously considered choking himself with his scone.

"Good morning, Yuuri," the man greeted the barista. From his current angle, Yuri had the privilege of seeing everything from a side profile, and saw Viktor giving Yuuri the most dazzling smile he had ever given anyone.

A subtle blush rose to Yuuri's cheeks. "Good morning, Viktor. Would you like the usual?"

"Yes, please," Viktor answered, still smiling as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. "But nothing to eat. I had something earlier, and right now I'm helping Yurio with his school work."

"Oh, so that's Yurio." Yuuri glanced over at the corner table with a smile, but quickly looked away when he met the glare of a tiger. "You did tell me you were going to start tutoring here."

"Well, just him. I already teach a supplemental course at the university, but Yurio is special. I've known him for so long; he's like a little brother to me."

"Aw, that's cute." Yuuri smiled. "Well, I know you guys are on a time crunch. Go ahead and sit down. I'll bring your drink to you when it's ready."

Viktor's smile grew impossibly larger. "You're the best, Yuuri. Thank you."

Yuri glared at Viktor as he walked over to their table and didn't stop when the man sat across from him.

"You brought me here just so you could hit on the barista?"

"No, I said we could come here to help you study. Now what did you need help with?"

"And you changed my name for him?"

"Yurio suited you better." Viktor shrugged.

"I can't believe this," Yuri groaned. "You know what? Never mind, I don't care. Just help me."

"Of course! But first," Viktor began, making his Russian companion raise an eyebrow. The man lifted a hand, pointing at Yuri's converse still propped on the table. "This is not your house, so you shouldn't have your feet on the table."

"I'm still pissed you wasted twenty minutes of my time. I can do whatever I want."

"Nooo," Viktor chided like he would his poodle Makkachin as he reached a hand across the table and nudged at Yuri's ankles.

The blond didn't budge, pressing resistance against the hand even as it pushed harder. When Viktor just continued to look at him, Yuri lifted his hand and gave a particularly rude gesture that seemed to be his favorite as of late. Smiling and not at all fazed, Viktor raised his other hand and reached for his Yuri's. In one, fluid motion, he grabbed the hand, smoothed the knuckles down into a fist, and brought it to his lips to place a gentle kiss.

Yuri's eyes widened and he immediately jerked away like he had been shocked, looking horrified and disgusted as he almost fell backwards out of his chair.

"And that," Viktor said, smiling innocently, "is why we sit properly in our chairs."

"You are so gay," Yuri hissed, still staring at him. "And I mean that literally."

Still smiling, the man put a finger to his lips just as Yuuri walked over with a mug. "Chai latte," he said, placing the cup down, totally oblivious to everything. "Do you need anything else?"

"No. Thank you, Yuuri." Viktor turned his dazzling smile on him again. "I notice it's a bit quiet today. Are you working alone?"

"Yeah," Yuuri said, scratching his cheek. "Phichit had to take care of his grandmother, but I'm ok. Business is slow right now so I don't mind."

"Well aren't you such a hard worker? That's really sweet of you, Yuuri. Keep up the good work."

On the other side of the table, Yuri mimed retching onto the floor and Viktor kicked the leg of his chair.

The barista gave Yuri a puzzled look, but smiled as he turned back to Viktor, eyes shining behind his blue-rimmed glasses. "Thanks, I will."

As Yuuri turned and headed off towards the counter again, Yurio watched as Viktor's head turned to follow him. The angle of his neck was suspiciously low to just be "watching him go."

"You pervert."

It wasn't until Yuuri was behind the counter again that Viktor turned to his tablemate ever so innocently. "What?"

"You just made us come here so you could stare at his ass."

"No, I really came here to tutor you. Yuuri was just… a bonus."

Yuri almost gagged again. "God, you really did just come here to check out his ass."

"Well, his, ah, "ass,"" Viktor replied, treading on the word lightly, "is not ugly, if that's what you're implying. He has a filled out figure."

"If this is all you came here to talk about, why don't you just ask him out already? Or just marry him. Or bed him."

A twinkle appeared in Viktor's eye. "All in good time, my dear Yurio."

Yuri rolled his eyes, muttering "If I don't ace my next math test, you ask him out."

Smirking, Viktor leaned forward, a different glint to his eyes. "Challenge accepted."

Well if there was anything Yuri admitted to admire about Viktor, it was that he never backed down from a challenge. And neither did he.

"You're on."

Grinning, the older man leaned back in his chair. "Fantastic. Now pull out your books."

Leaning down, Yuri reached for his bag. "Should you really be helping me with our bet going on?"

"As your tutor, I'm supposed to help you improve. However, you've gotten Ds on all your previous tests and I don't expect perfection in just a few days," the man answered with a grin. "I'm only aiming for you to pass. A "B" is perfectly acceptable. And you said if you don't ace the test I ask him."

"…Fuck."

Viktor continued to smile. "Now, why don't we begin our lesson?"

"He's late again." Yuri growled, feet on one of the mahogany tables of Café Romantika, head leaning over the back of his chair. This was the third time this week he had been late, and Yuri was seriously considering just firing the damn "tutor" and taking his chances on his own.

The bell on the door rang with the entry of a customer, and Yuri was this close to cussing Viktor out at the top of his lungs. And then he saw black hair instead of platinum and stopped dead.

Otabek walked into the café wearing a leather jacket and toting his black computer bag like the first time. It had been a few days since that encounter, and Yuri was half-dreading, half-anticipating the next one, curious of what would happen then, though not sure if he wanted to know. It was all very confusing, but he found himself holding his breath as he watched Otabek walk up to the counter.

"Hey, Otabek," Yuuri the barista greeted with a smile. "Let me get your order."

"Thanks. And a macchiato while you're at it."

"No problem. Coming right up."

Otabek moved to stand in front of the display case, hand on his hip as he waited patiently. Absently, he glanced around the room, having nothing else to occupy himself, but stopped when his dark eyes came across Yuri in the corner.

For a moment, the two of them simply looked at each other, Otabek seemingly devoid of emotion and Yuri glaring at him out of habit. He glared at everyone, mostly because the prospect of other people staring at him for no reason annoyed him.

Then, to Yuri's surprise, that amused glint returned to Otabek's onyx eyes, and the Russian man's façade broke for a split second because no one had ever been amused by his glares. Sure, Viktor would just smile at him and his grandfather would continue on like it was normal, but no one was ever truly amused by Yuri Plisetsky's resting bitch face.

The blond barely recovered when Otabek had paid for his order and was walking over to his table.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the empty seat across from Yuri.

For a moment, the Russian didn't answer. "…What for?"

He could have sworn Otabek smirked, but if he did, the smile was gone when he spoke again. "This is the only table left that's next to power outlets and I need to charge my computer."

"Oh. Go ahead."

Nodding, the man pulled the chair out and sat down, Yuri watching as he settled in like he wasn't sitting with some punk stranger for breakfast, and pulled out his laptop to charge. Once it was plugged in, he reached into his paper bag and pulled out a cinnamon raisin bagel.

Yuri didn't know what was so interesting about him, but he kept staring at Otabek until the man found it necessary to look up at him and raise an eyebrow.

"Is there a reason you keep staring at me?"

"No," Yuri answered immediately, and the ghost of a smirk appeared on the dark-haired man's lips again.

"Keep staring and people will talk."

The blond felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Yeah, I know!"

"Ok. As long as you know."

Yuri felt like there was some other meaning to that phrase, but couldn't say anything as he watched Otabek take a sip of his macchiato.

"Aren't you supposed to be here with someone?"

"…Yeah. My tutor. Who's late again." And there was the flare of anger again. It was truly a wonder how much Viktor Nikiforov could piss him off so effortlessly without even physically being in his presence.

"Tutor," Otabek repeated, thoughtfully swirling the contents of his cup with a spoon. "What grade are you in?"

"I'm a senior in high school," Yuri answered, then blinked when he realized what was happening. "Wait, you can't just ask personal shit like that, we barely just met."

There was that glint again, and Yuri was starting to get really frustrated trying to figure out what was so amusing to this guy.

"If it really bothers you, we'll make it even. I'm a junior in college."

"Why the hell would I want you to tell me that?"

Otabek shrugged and sipped his macchiato.

Yuri sighed, wondering what life even was as he looked back at Otabek. "Well if you're gonna be like that, I'm—"

"Yuri," Otabek finished with a quirk of his lips. "And my name's Otabek Altin."

"Plisetsky," Yuri added curtly, but looked at Otabek in mild curiousity. "That's an interesting name."

"It's Kazakhstani. I was born in Kazakhstan."

"Hmm. Also interesting."

"And I can guess you were born in Russia?"

"Yeah. And also, I broke my leg biking down a hill once and lost my two front teeth at the same time in second grade. Just in case you wanted any other pieces of my personal history."

Otabek's dark eyes remained on him, lips twitching again, and Yuri found himself threatening to smile as well.

"Thanks for that. I'll be sure to add it to my dream journal."

That time, Yuri cracked up, and Otabek seemed to genuinely smile, if only very minutely.

Finishing off his coffee, the Kazakhstani reached down and unplugged his laptop from the wall.

"Leaving already?" Yuri asked, and he was surprised to find a little disappointment accompany those words.

"Unfortunately, I have class in ten minutes." Otabek cleared his place as he spoke. "What about you?"

"It's a student holiday, I'm off. I would have slept in but this was the only time Viktor could tutor me and if I don't get my grades up my grandpa will kill me."

"Hmm. Well good luck not getting killed."

"Hold on." Yuri called, and Otabek paused a few steps from the table, looking back at Yuri's glare expectantly. "I told you my backstory and you just expect me to be fine not getting anything in return? What happened to making things even?"

There was a split second in which the two of them simply looked at each other, Yuri with his signature glare and Otabek with his constant stoicism.

And then the mask cracked just a tiny bit.

"I'll have to even it out next time," he answered, then turned with a small wave. "Bye, Yuri."

Yuri blinked and watched him go, eyes for once resembling sea foam instead of jade. "Bye, Otabek."

The blond watched as the college student walked out, somewhat perplexed as he left. He wasn't sure what was going on, but it was weird and he was somehow liking it.

But then Viktor literally bounced over to his table and all other thoughts flew out the window.

"Yurio!"

"This is the third time you've been late, asshole, don't make me fire you! It's like you don't take this seriously!"

"I take everything seriously. And you know there's construction going on down the street from my apartment, it can't be helped. Now, tell me, how do you know Mr. Altin?"

There was a beat of silence. "Otabek?"

Viktor nodded, smiling brightly. "Yes, him. He's in one of my classes. Are you friends?"

Yuri just blinked. He wasn't entirely sure of that answer. "I guess?"

The older man beamed at him, and Yuri was tempted to kick him in the shin to make him stop because he didn't need so much blinding cheer this early in the morning.

"Wonderful. Now, if I remember correctly, we have some business to discuss today. You have your test grade back, yes?"

Oh shit, he should have just left while Viktor was still stuck in traffic.

For a long moment, Yuri glared at the floor, arms and legs crossed as his obnoxious tutor smiled down at him.

"Yurio~. Let me see your test grade."

After a moment, Yuri sucked at his teeth in irritation and plucked the piece of paper from between the binders in his bag. Viktor smiled as he took it and turned it right-side up in his hands. His smile only grew wider.

"89. You've improved a lot."

"Shut up," Yuri snapped, not looking at him.

"But I'm just so proud of you." Viktor beamed. "You should feel proud too."

"Whatever. I still lost the bet."

"Oh. You did, didn't you? What a shame."

"Stop rubbing it in and get it over with already."

"Well," Viktor began, placing the paper neatly on the table in front of Yuri, "I was going to wait until after our session, but if you insist."

Yuri rolled his eyes and kicked Viktor in the side. The man simply continued to smile at him as he sauntered over to the end of the counter where Yuuri could be seen doing dishes in the corner. Viktor walked up beside him just on the other side of the counter, elbows leaning on it ever so casually.

"Yuuri, can I ask you something?" he asked, but the barista seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and continued scrubbing away at the mug in his hand.

Smiling slightly, Viktor tried again. "Yuuri~. Yuuri."

The barista jumped. "Y-yes!?" he yelped, surprise evident in his wide eyes as he spun on Viktor. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about the cup filled with soapy water in his hand, and the Russian incarnation of suave became drenched in it.

Back in his corner, Yuri broke into a fit of laughter, barely stifling the noise he was making with a hand over his mouth as Yuuri started apologizing up a storm. He couldn't help but think Viktor deserved that.

"Viktor, I'm so sorry! Here, let me get you a towel!"

"Ha, it's all right," the man answered, sounding surprised but slightly amused himself as he regarded the soaking front of his white button-down. "It was just soap and water, Yuuri, it's fine."

"No, no it's really not!" the barista insisted, sounding on the verge of an anxiety attack as he grabbed a few dish towels and rushed to the other side of the counter to immediately attempt to pat Viktor dry. "I-I wasn't paying attention and now you're soaked and I can't do that to a customer!" he explained hurriedly, frantically rubbing at Viktor's shirt with a towel. "Please, forgive me! Let me make it up to you, I'll do anything!"

Yuri saw Viktor's smile broaden. "Well, there is one thing you could do."

Yuuri immediately looked up at him, brown eyes wide and desperate behind his glasses. "Anything, you name it."

"In that case." Viktor grabbed Yuuri's hand with his own, smiling down at the barista who merely blinked at him in incomprehension. "Go on a date with me."

It took literally five seconds for Yuuri to react.

"What?" he squeaked, face turning red as he stared up at Viktor.

Viktor continued to smile. "If you want my forgiveness, go on a date with me tonight."

If possible, Yuuri's face turned redder. Uncertain, he glanced behind the man in front of him and at the counter. Another barista was standing at the cashier today, a shorter boy with dark skin and black hair. Smiling at Yuuri, he gave him a thumbs-up and made a shooing motion with one hand. Gulping, Yuuri slowly looked back up at Viktor, who was still smiling and patiently waiting for his answer. Seeing that, Yuuri took a deep breath, as if to psych himself up, and Yuri thought the coward was finally going to just say yes and get it over with.

That is not what happened at all.

Taking his hand away from Viktor, Yuuri let go of the rag and, to Viktor's obvious confusion, moved to take off his glasses. Once they were put away in his pocket, Yuuri raised his hand and ran it through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his face to reveal clear, dark eyes and the smooth, angular lines of his facial structure.

Yuri was pretty sure that was the moment Viktor's heart started having palpitations.

"Actually, if I think about it, you should be begging for my forgiveness," Yuuri said, voice suddenly low and smooth as he took a step closer to Viktor, standing so close they were a breath apart and Yuuri's leg was slotted between both of Viktor's. It was suddenly very plain that Yuuri wasn't much shorter than the other man. "You startled me while I was working, and that can be very harmful for my job and my reputation. So, to make it up to me, you can pick me up at seven and take me to dinner. Understood?"

"…Yes. You are perfectly clear. I will pick you up at seven."

Yuri didn't even need to hear the breathiness of Viktor's voice to know he was whipped, and sort of sat back to watch the show. Meanwhile, the barista at the cash register watched with wide eyes and scrambled for what was presumably his phone.

Yuuri smirked and took a step away. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement. I suppose I will be seeing you later." And with that, he stepped passed Viktor, hips swaying confidently as he walked back around the counter and resumed doing the dishes like he had never stopped.

After watching Yuuri walk away, mesmerized, Viktor walked back over to his and Yurio's table, almost in a daze as he came and sat down right next to the younger blond a little too deliberately.

"Wooow," Yuri began, drawing out the syllable as he watched the barista with mild interest. "He's got more guts than I thought. I'll give him points for tha—Hey, what the—!"

Viktor was suddenly leaning on, that stupid grin back on his face. "He's the one, Yurio. I mean, I loved him before, but that. Oh, he's my Eros, I can't."

"Get the fuck off me, you're still wet. And stop being dramatic! You're almost thirty, act your own age."

"Romance is for all ages, Yurio."

"I don't need this sappy shit right now! You're supposed to be tutoring me in math!"

"But I am your elder. You should respect me and all advice I have to give."

"Bullshit, now get off!"

"I'm gonna kill him," Yuri grumbled as he lay with his head on top of his math homework. To his utter surprise, Viktor was late and he was starting to wonder if the man did it on purpose, but supposed it could have been worse. This was the first time he had been late in three months after that long string of barely showing up. It wasn't any less surprising when it happened again.

He heard the familiar bell ring again, and turned toward it half-expecting to see Viktor finally show his stupid face. But he sat up once he saw that it was Otabek.

"Oi, Beka!" he called immediately.

Pausing, Otabek stood a few steps from the doorway and looked at him. Yuri beckoned him over impatiently, and the Kazakhstani obediently made his way over.

"Yes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he came to stand behind the chair next to Yuri. "I only came here for a pick-me-up and then I have to go take a test, so I can't stay long."

Not planning to fluff it up anyway, Yuri jabbed a finger at the piece of paper in front of him. "Do you know anything about conics in calculus?"

Otabek set his bag down on the ground and leaned over to see the page better. He placed his palm on the table to brace himself and rested his other hand on the back of Yuri's chair. Yuri was suddenly overly conscious of the fact that they were very close, but tried to ignore it as his friend spoke.

"Sorry, can't say that I do."

With a grunt, Yuri glared up at him. "Aren't you in college? Didn't you take this course already?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I remember it. I'm not a Mathematics Major."

Yuri simply stared for a little longer as Otabek looked at him. "What is your major anyway?"

"History."

"Hmm. I can see that."

The Kazakhstani quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Your personality. Plus you've got the," Yuri swiped at the side of his own blond head, "the hair. It's kinda militaristic."

And now that he was looking at him, Yuri could actually appreciate Otabek's hair style. He was one of the few people Yuri had seen that could shave the sides of their head like that and actually look hot… Or good. Decent. What?

Heat crept up Yuri's neck, and he was really glad he could just look down at his paper and easily hide it from the man standing over him.

"Yes, because hair tells so much about a person, Fairy of Russia."

Otabek's fingers briefly brushed at the blond locks at Yuri's neck, and he felt himself flush heavily as he looked up to glare at him. "Where the hell did you hear that name from?!" he asked sharply, because only two people ever teased him with that and he was pretty damn sure only one of them was in the Detroit, let alone the United States.

The college student merely shrugged in that impassive way of his, and Yuri considered exploding on him until he felt a leg gently nudge his side.

"Sorry I can't help. You'll have to wait for your tutor to get here. Now I really need to go or I'm going to miss my test. And I still have to get some food." He grunted almost like an afterthought. "I don't have time to get coffee."

"Why don't you ever just pre-order it with your food? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"It would be if I didn't drive a motorcycle."

"Oh. Well, here, just drink the rest of mine. Viktor's late again so I'll make him pay for another one."

Otabek blinked down at him. "You're sure? What is it?"

"It's a white chocolate mocha and it was starting to get cold anyway. Just hurry up and drink it so you can leave."

"White chocolate? That sounds really sweet."

"Do you want the coffee or not?"

After a moment of thought, Otabek reached over, took the cup into his hand, and downed it in several gulps. Then he held the white mug in front of the both of them, letting the light from the window behind them reflect off the lacquer.

"The drink of a fairy. Just about as sweet as I imagined."

Otabek carefully placed the cup back in its saucer, and for some reason, Yuri felt himself flush again.

"Thanks for the drink, Yuri," the older man said, stepping away from him and picking up his bag, "but now I really need to go. Good luck with your calculus."

"Th-thanks. See ya."

Just then, Yuuri walked up with a white, paper bag. "Here, Otabek. Now get going. No, you can pay up next time, now hurry up or you'll be late."

"Thank you," the college student said with a nod. Then, with his laptop slung over his shoulder, he briskly headed toward the door and left.

Yuuri grimaced after him, then turned to Yuri who was glaring at him suspiciously. "What d'you want?"

Calmly, the barista leaned against the side of the table and looked down at him. "So. You and Otabek."

"What about me and Otabek?" the Russian growled, sounding defensive.

"Nothing," Yuuri said casually. "Are you two friends or…?"

"Yeah, what else would we be?"

Over the past few months, the two "Yuris" had gotten to know each other mostly because of their connection through Viktor and the café. Yuuri had definitely been the more open one about it, and after observing the younger Russian boy for a while, he noticed he got snappy and moody after his Kazakhstani counterpart left or if he was asked about said counterpart. Right now would be an excellent example as it was both.

Sensing danger, Yuuri backed down. "Nothing. Anything you need?"

"Yeah, another mocha. And put it on your boyfriend's tab, he's definitely paying for making me wait again."

"Right. Of course," the barista sighed, taking up the empty cup and carrying it away.

But it was then, as Yuuri took the cup away, the blond-haired Fairy of Russia watched the white piece leave the table, and he realized with another subtle rise of heat to his cheeks that Otabek had drank from the same spot as he had.

"I hate both of you."

Viktor looked hurt, placing a hand over his heart as he looked at Yuri across the table (though the younger was pretty sure he was faking it). "Yurio, how could you say that? We're like family! And Yuuri hasn't done anything bad to you, why would you hate him?"

A vein ticked in the blond's temple. "He's been standing over here letting you cling all over him for the past ten minutes."

Yuuri lifted a finger from where it lay on Viktor's shoulder to interject a point. "It's only been five minutes."

"Whatever. I still feel like I want to throw up just watching you."

The three of them were at their usual table at the café once again. Yuri was sitting against the wall, glaring at the two across from him with distaste. Viktor sat on the other side of the table, per the norm, but this time he sat sideways with Yuuri standing between his legs, who let Viktor hold him close from around the waist as he wrapped his own arms around the blond's shoulders. It was obvious by some of the smiles from the other customers and occasional flashes of Phichit's phone that this scene was considered cute, but all it made Yuri want to do was blind himself.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to work?" he asked the barista. "As a guy who works in a coffee shop, can you really afford to slack off?"

"I'm not just a barista, you know," Yuuri replied defensively. "I actually have a college degree, I'm just in between jobs right now."

"Oh, yeah? And when exactly will you get a real job?"

"Next week, actually," the Japanese replied proudly. "I scored a job this morning at a publishing firm across town."

Viktor gasped. "Yuuri, that's great!" he exclaimed, hugging the younger man tightly. "I'm so happy for you!"

Yuuri smiled down at him. "Thanks, but in the meantime, I really should do my current job so I can actually make money."

"I don't wish for you to go, but it's for the best. I still need to help Yurio."

"Ok, I'll see you later then."

In goodbye, the two of them shared a chaste kiss, and Yuri indulged himself in making a gagging motion with his finger as the black-haired barista left. Amused at his actions, Viktor smiled and turned to fully face him, resting his elbows on the table and making a steeple with his fingers.

"Oh, my little Yurio, just wait until you experience your own great romance."

"Tch. Pass."

For a second, Viktor remained silent, blinking at him. "Do you not want to find love?"

Yuri picked up his mocha and raised it to his lips. "Why the hell would I want to do something stupid like that?"

"It doesn't matter if you want it or not, love will still find you," Viktor replied, watching as the blond drank from his cup. "Otabek comes to visit whenever he wants."

Yuri choked on his mocha, quickly setting it down before he spilled it all over his lap and coughed into a napkin. Viktor waited patiently for the fit to pass.

"Wh-why did you bring up Beka?" the younger managed.

His tutor looked at him calmly, a knowing smile on his lips. "It's become pretty clear that you two are a little more than just friends, Yura. It may not seem obvious to you, but love seems to have found you in a way you hadn't expected it to."

For a moment, Yuri remained speechless and stared at Viktor with wide eyes.

"Romance is a funny thing," he continued. "It can take a split second or a lifetime and surprise you in so many ways. I had to wait a long time, and it wasn't until Yuuri that I found I was very, very gay."

"Don't use his name, I feel disgusting," Yuri snapped once he found his voice. "And I came here for math tutoring not love advice. You're just saying these things because you want to be dramatic."

While he was speaking, Yuuri glanced over after hearing he was mentioned, looking curiously at their table. Viktor, having noticed his attention, looked over and smiled at him, making half a heart with his hand and winking as he blew a kiss through it. Yuuri flushed pink at the gesture, and quickly went back to work trying to act like nothing happened.

"You might be right," Viktor said as he watched his lover fondly. "But a little drama is good to have. It keeps things interesting."

"You mean like that garbage?"

"Love is different for different people," the older man said sagely. "You and Otabek may not have the same type of romance as me and Yuuri do."

"Who said I wanted romance with him?!" Yuri asked loudly, voice bordering on a growl. "And anyway, he's three years older than me."

"I'm four years older than Yuuri. Three isn't bad and you turn eighteen in a few months. And no one said anything," Viktor answered innocently. "But Otabek comes here every day and you never try to change our meeting place."

"This is the easiest place to meet! And he's just a friend."

"Are you just afraid to admit your feelings?" The older man leaned on his chin with his elbow on the table, smiling. "It's ok if you are. New things are always a little scary."

"I am not afraid!"

"Then you wouldn't have anything against asking Otabek on a date."

Oh. Oh, he was good. Yuri glared at Viktor across the table, hating his penchant for never backing down more than ever in this moment.

"…Fine."

Viktor smiled brightly. "Wonderful. Well I'm sure he can take a few minutes out of his schedule today for you."

"What?"

His tutor pointed over to the cash register. "He walked in a few minutes ago."

"Shit!" Yuri whipped around, seeing his friend standing second in line. "I have to do this now?"

"Yes," Viktor said, still smiling. "You're not afraid, right? So going to him right now shouldn't be a problem."

Growling, Yuri stood from his chair, the wood scraping back loudly. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

In response, Yuri flipped his favorite gesture and left to make his way toward the cash register, shoving his hands in the pockets of his Russia hoodie.

"Ok, one cinnamon raisin bagel," Phichit said, Otabek watching as he entered something into the register. "Anything else?"

The Kazakhstani opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Yuri walked up beside him and pushed him aside with his shoulder.

"A macchiato. And I'm paying."

For a second, Otabek and Phichit both blinked at him, both slightly surprised. Then, Phichit smiled slyly and touched something on the register. "Ok. Please step aside. Your order will be ready in a few minutes."

"Yeah, thanks," Yuri grumbled, slapping a few bills down and moving off to the side. He tried not to look at Otabek as he did so, and tried even harder not to look at the smug man watching him from the corner of the room. He wanted to think about just what he was doing even less.

"What was that?" Otabek asked, dark eyes set on him in curiosity. "Is there some occasion?"

"Hmm," the Russian grunted, not looking at him as the floor seemed much more interesting.

Beside him, Otabek raised an eyebrow. "Yuri?"

"Date." The word came like Yuri had thrown it up, and he inwardly cursed himself.

The Kazakhstani blinked. "Excuse me?"

Yuri's face reddened and he turned to look determinedly at the wall. "Lunch on Saturday, yes or no?"

There was a pause, and Yuri tried really hard not to imagine exactly what Otabek was thinking in that time.

"…Yes."

Blinking, the blond turned just in time to see his friend smile, dark eyes holding that familiar glint.

"Here at twelve?"

Yuri could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Sure."

The small smile widened. "Great.

"Here's your order." Yuuri interrupted them by placing a cup and a white bag on the counter beside them. He smiled, looking between the two of them with knowing, russet eyes.

Otabek turned and took the bag and the coffee. "Thank you." Then he turned to Yuri. "And thank you for breakfast, Yuri, but you forgot that I can't take coffee with me on my motorcycle." The blond blushed again, but before he could say anything, the older man brought the macchiato to his lips and took a slow sip. Then, he offered it to Yuri, the twitch of a smirk on his lips. "You can finish it."

Cautiously, the blond took the cup, eyeing the dark liquid before glancing up at Otabek again. Then, as nonchalantly as he could, he shrugged and drank, lips purposefully touching where Otabek's had been.

He hummed, looking at the cup thoughtfully. "It's kind of bitter. Just what I would expect from a soldier."

The Kazakhstani smirked at him. "Right. Well I'll see you tomorrow, little fairy."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "Yeah, bye," he answered, walking away with one hand in his pocket, but he felt himself smile when he saw Otabek leave out of the corner of his eye. But the smile left his face when he sat down across from Viktor again, who was grinning at him like he was the proudest father in the world.

"Shut up," Yuri snapped, sipping at the macchiato he held between his hands.

"I was simply going to ask you what you wanted me to cover next."

"Liar," the blond replied flatly. "But fine, explain to me how to graph tangent."

Viktor continued to smile at him. "It would be my pleasure."

Yuri rolled his eyes, but sat still and listened as Viktor actually began to teach. He didn't thank him after their session though, or any time that week for that matter. He wasn't going to say it or give Viktor the satisfaction. There was no way he would ever let on that things actually went rather well thanks to his tutoring.

A/N: Liked it? Review to let me know please! That way I can actually plan whether or not I should continue writing stuff like this because I honestly think one-shots like this are my favorite :)