Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of these characters belong to me, sadly. I am just using them to relay a story that I love. All characters and parts of the plot from Yuri! On Ice belong to Mitsurō Kubo, Sayo Yamamoto, Tadashi Hiramatsu and TV Asahi.

Title: The Bronze

Written by: SadieAnnabethMellark ( porkcutletbowltrash)

Summary: Yuuri Katsuki placed third and took home a bronze medal in his first Grand Prix final. It had been an amazing performance and an amazing feeling. The only problem was that he couldn't really remember what happened on the ice thanks to some really strong cough medicine. Now, skating with Viktor alone on the rink, he lets down his walls. An AU where Yuuri didn't suck in his first GP. By request of Shiranai Atsune.

Dedicated to: Shiranai Atsune. Thank you for the idea in your request!

Chapter One

Blame it One The Cough Syrup

Yuuri wished he could say that he remembered what it felt like to win a bronze medal in his first Grand Prix final in precise and astonishing clarity, but the truth was that he couldn't. He couldn't remember really what jumps he had landed with effortless grace or what step sequence he used in his free skate. His memory of the sound of the crowd as his program finished or the moment in the Kiss and Cry were very hazy. He remembered his coach, Celestino Cialdini, slapping him roughly on the back in congratulations as his score was announced over the large stadium speakers, but everything else around that moment had been a blur of foggy figures and bright colors.

At first, he hadn't even remembered being awarded the bronze until that night when his roommate and best friend, Phichit Chulanont, a skater from Thailand, practically flattened him in a hug and screeched congratulations into his ear.

"What're you talking about?" He asked as he was squished in his best friend's arms.

"The obvious, Yur!" Phichit was bouncing on his heels like a rogue bouncy ball on a trampoline as he pulled him away and held Yuuri at arm's length, "No offense, Yur but I didn't think you'd actually place on the podium. You were such a wreck and all."

Yuuri blinked at him owlishly, "I placed on the podium?" Had he really?

Phichit's smile grew a little tense in the edges as his eyes scanned over his best friend, "Yes…how could you have forgotten? You placed bronze on your first GP final, Yur. Right under Viktor Nikiforov with gold and Christophe Giacometti with silver. You were close to beating Christophe too from what I heard, but he had you by 10-point something points."

Yuuri blinked and shook his head as he took everything in. Had he won a bronze medal on his first circuit? How could he have forgotten the brilliant moment that had happened mere hours ago? He smiled softly as Phichit continued to look at him with concern.

"Are you feeling alright, Yuuri?" Phichit asked suddenly, looking him up and down with intensifying worry lines.

"Uhm. I'm good. Just tired. It was a long day." In truth, Yuuri wasn't feeling well at all. And he hadn't been for the past couple days they had been in Sochi, Russia. The morning after touching down in Russia for the Grand Prix, Yuuri had woken up with a stuffy nose and a sore throat, but pushing it off as allergies, he continued on throughout the day with practice and work outs that Celestino had thrown at him in preparation for the final that was being held in a few days. But as the day went on, Yuuri was starting to feel colder and colder in the rink and at the gym and he had somehow developed a slight cough.

Halfway through the second night in a Russian hotel, Yuuri had finally had enough and wandered down to the convince store across the street in the early hours of the morning. He had managed to find some cold and flu medicine amongst the aisles (at least from what he could tell since he didn't speak any Russian), some Ibuprofen and a bag of throat lozenges. Those had been his saving grace for the past few days, keeping him well enough to get through practice, his short program and to be able to sleep soundly at night through the coughing and the twinges of his aching body.

Then last night had come and Yuuri's temperature seemed to spike higher and his head had been pounding. Celestino had immediately suggested that Yuuri see a doctor, but Yuuri wasn't stupid. Once a doctor got involved, his chances of competing, let alone possibly getting to the podium, would be extremely slight. He did not come all this way to forfeit. So, with the promise and taking the next morning easier than usual and taking a strong dose of ibuprofen before practice, Yuuri had kept his coach from completely destroying his opportunity to compete in the GP finals at all.

By the time Yuuri was up next for his free skate program, he had downed four ibuprofen and had the strongest dose of the Russian cough syrup he had picked up at the store and to be honest, Yuuri felt better than he had ever felt before. His head and body weren't aching. He wasn't freezing from his fever. He felt like he was on a cloud.

"I don't believe you Yur. You look like you're gonna pass out." Phichit mumbled as he pushed his friend down onto the hotel bed.

"Phich, I'm alright. I'm just going to head to bed is all." Yuuri smiled softly at his friend and tried to look more alert than he felt.

His best friend eyed him, "You're not coming out to dinner with the rest of us to celebrate? There'll be rice." Phichit knew Yuuri's weakness and that weakness was rice. Since moving and training in the United States, Yuuri had been disappointed in the lack of rice being served with things. The Americans preferred bread and potatoes it seemed. Or at least, that's what Celestino and his family had with everything. Normally, Phichit just had to mention the 'r' word and Yuuri was automatically in, but in that moment the idea of food made his stomach churn.

As he covered his mouth softly to keep himself from gagging, he looked up at his best friend who was looking at him with concern, "I'll tell them that you were exhausted. But you better take some medicine, Yur. Do you have any on hand or— "

"Backpack." Yuuri mumbled through his hand and pointed towards the backpack on the floor that held all his training gear, "Front pocket."

The next day passed in the haze of cough syrup, pills, and sleep. Yuuri could briefly remember Phichit and Celestino coming to check on him periodically as he slept, but other than that, he had been left to his own devices all alone in his hotel room. After the free skate program, Yuuri's sickness seemed to be getting better, even though he had stayed incapacitated for most of the following day. While he had been dozing in bed, during one of his brief periods of alertness, he had managed to find the footage from his free skate program where he placed bronze.

Yuuri had landed almost every jump in his routine with ease, his step sequence was exact and pristine. His spins were perfectly performed. He was smiling and looked as care free as ever. That was the worrisome part of it all. Yuuri was not a calm being, not with his anxiety. Competition, even the most minor competitive events, had given Yuuri extreme bouts of nervousness, ever since he was a child. He was simply a nervous performer.

It was then that something had hit him.

The Yuuri on the screen had lost all his inhibitions as he glided and twirled across the ice like a ballerina. The Yuuri watching it on his phone knew that carefree Yuuri only existed in two situations: when he was skating alone or when Yuuri was on the verge, if not already, drunk off his ass.

"That's why I can't remember…" He mumbled to himself in Japanese as he tossed his phone softly back onto the side table next to the bed, "No wonder I slept so well with the meds. That cough syrup…" He sighed and ran a hand over his face as he gave a weak cough.

His first time he had competed on the senior level at his very first Grand Prix, which he placed bronze in, he had been a little more than tipsy off of Russian cough medicine. With a look over at the side table at the offending product, he frowned and mumbled to it, "I hate that I love you right now."

While the cough syrup had stolen his precious, conscious thoughts from his big moment on the ice two days earlier, it had also helped Yuuri feel better enough to go to the GPF annual banquet that night. Celestino and Phichit had covered for him enough as is and he knew there was no way around the posing threat of having to face the other skaters that had won their medals or didn't place on the podium while sober, while he had been out of it. That morning, he had watched his routines over and over again, committing even the slightest deviations to memory in case it came up in conversation. He had already been laughed at by his best friend when he had confessed the truth of what had happened on the ice and he wasn't keen on being laughed at by the rest of the skating community that would be attending. He was nervous enough as is and not having many friends in the skating world hadn't been a comfort.

It's not that Yuuri was exclusive about who he talked to in the skating community, it was quite the opposite actually, but Yuuri just didn't make friends easily. Between him being extremely shy most of the time and his abundance of awkwardness, he had learned to blend in with the scenery at events like these. He would stay close to his parents and Celestino or Phitchit. He would talk quietly to those he knew and, if approached, would listen to the others in the group talk while he just made the appropriate response with his body language.

The most nerve wracking part of the whole thing though was that he was going to be there.

He had also qualified for the Grand Prix finals, placing first in his prelims in Canada and Paris and then bringing it home with his third gold of the GP here in Russia.

There was a possibility that Yuuri would run into his figure skating idol at tonight's banquet and he had no idea what to do – his brain panicking about the possibility, while his heart screamed out in happiness. He was caught between a rock and a huge fanboy moment, neither of which he was comfortable facing in public.

Yuuri had seen Viktor skate for the first time when he was twelve while he, Yuuko and Takaeshi were watching the Junior Grand Prix finals on the TV in the Ice Castle locker room. It was Viktor Nikiforov's first GP at the age of 16 and to Yuuri, he was one of the most beautifully perfect skaters he had ever seen. Watching the long silver haired Viktor skate was like watching water dance – fluid, graceful and strung together with program difficulty and passionate emotions. As the years went on, Viktor never ceased to surprise Yuuri with his intricate programs and exquisite story telling. Every time Viktor skated, Yuuri had been in awe – it felt like Viktor had pushed his emotions through the TV screen and into Yuuri's soul.

Stop it, he reminded himself, chances are he's not going to even give you the time of day anyways. It's not like you beat him. Just relax. Just focus on trying to piece together a plausible story if people ask you about placing bronze.

And with a great deep breath, Yuuri stood and allowed him to take another dose of meds before leaving his hotel room.

Things at the banquet were not going quite as he had planned. He had foreseen the other skaters coming to congratulate him on his medal and for them to drill him on the aspects of his program, but he hadn't been prepared to be hounded by a number of coaches from all over the world as well, wanting him to come train with them.

"You have amazing potential, Katsuki Yuuri." He didn't know who this coach was, but he was certain he was from America or Canada. He had a western accent for sure, "I could help you round out your skills, you could even finish school while training with us."

"I – um," Yuuri blushed and looked away, "I'll have to think about it…"

The coach winked and smiled at him before handing Yuuri a business card, "Call me and I'll fly you over to Seattle." Yuuri watched as the coach strode away, leaving him with another business card to add to the pile. He wasn't sure why they had all suddenly started pouncing on him. He had Celestino and was doing okay in practice and he had made it to the Grand Prix without any complications.

If they only knew what happened, he thought.

He was looking around when he saw a familiar woman turn to look at him. They had made eye contact and she smiled before sauntering over. Yuuri groaned softly to himself as his head started pounding. He wanted to go back to his room and sleep. He was tired of being cornered by coaches and skaters a like. He missed home. He even missed Detroit.

He turned away slowly from the advancing coach and started to walk towards where Celestino was talking to one of Yuuri's rink mates who competed in the Junior finals. I'll just tell him I'm not feeling well, which it true, and ask to go back to my room, Yuuri had chided himself. He really didn't want to deal with the approaching woman either. He knew that Mira Ashbey wasn't someone who took 'no' or 'I need to think about it' for an answer. She trained her students in the heart of Paris and was one of the strictest skating coaches in the book. As soon as she got her hands on Yuuri, he would've been signed into a few years training with her and would be flying to Paris in the morning.

When Celestino saw him, he waved over and Yuuri tried to give a soft smile back.

"There's my bronze medalist." Celestino slapped him on the back and gave a hearty laugh. Yuuri smiled softly, but the noise was making his head pound. He wanted to leave.

"Hey, um, Celestino. Uh, I'm not feeling too well, do you think people would be upset if I went back to my room to rest?" he asked softly as he looked up at the tall man. Yuuri was tiny compared to most people, but he was also tiny compared to the figure skaters that were under Celestino's regime. At first, most of the people had found it either endearing or perfect teasing material, but now they had gotten so used to leaning against Yuuri lazily, their arm propped atop Yuuri's unruly dark hair, that it wasn't even funny anymore.

Celestino's smile turned into one of mild annoyance, "Yuuri, can't you stay for another fifteen minutes? They'll be serving dinner in a bit. Maybe the food will help."

Yuuri bit his lip, "I'm feeling a bit queasy." He was partially lying about this. He wasn't feeling great and his stomach was cramping, but he didn't feel like vomiting at the moment.

His rink mate that had initially been talking to Celestino, James Noble, turned and smiled, "They have a balcony over there Yuuri. Maybe some fresh air will help?"

Yuuri patted James' shoulder and nodded, "I guess I can try." And then his sidled off towards the French doors that were cracked open on the side of the room and glanced over his shoulder to see Celestino blocking his exit from Mira Ashbey, the French coach from hell. At least he would be free from everyone for a while standing out on the balcony and he'd be able to get some fresh air. Maybe that would calm him down some.

Russia was beautiful. The Grand Prix had been held in Sochi and it was the first time Yuuri had ever seen the beautiful country. Where Hatsetsu, Yuuri's hometown, had been predominantly carved into the side of beautiful granite rock forms, Sochi was like a lily pad, surrounded by beautiful ocean. Hatsetsu had also been a village on the ocean, but it was a peaceful kind of beauty compared to Sochi's elegance. He missed views like this when he was living and training in Detroit, which was covered in buildings and even more people – he missed being able to look out and see the forestry and swirling waters of the ocean, undisturbed.

Yuuri took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together in the chilly Sochi air. While it was a little cold out for Yuuri's tastes, the fresh air and alone time was doing Yuuri some good like James had suggested. He could relax for a few minutes without being on the edge constantly. He didn't need to put up a show for a few minutes.

"It's very beautiful, yes?" Yuuri jumped and whipped his head around to where the voice had come from. His heart just about stopped as he eyed the short silver hair and the taller stature that leaned against the balcony railing like Yuuri, taking in the night time view of Sochi, Russia.

"Uhm…" Yuuri felt his throat choke on the words and blushed deeply before looking back out at the dark sky. Viktor Nikiforov was standing right next to him.

He could feel Viktor's eyes on him as he looked out at the ocean, "I love looking at the ocean when I visit Sochi. I feel at home when I hear the seagulls and the waves, even though I'm not in Saint Petersburg.

Yuuri nodded softly, not knowing what to say to Viktor, but feeling the same feelings as him. He was still choking on his words and he was starting to feel nauseous. He couldn't tell if it was his cold acting up or his inner fanboy screaming to be let out.

He felt Viktor nudge his elbow with his own, "Hey, you're Yuuri Katsuki right? You placed bronze this year?"

Yuuri nodded, "Uhm…that's right. I placed bronze."

Viktor smiled sweetly, "I didn't get to see much of your free program, but I caught the tail end of it. It was very beautiful. Did you choreograph it yourself?"

Yuuri blushed, "Well, no. My coach, Celestino and his wife did."

Viktor nodded, "That's impressive. You must've found your own story within the routine. You looked like you were skating for the hell of it, instead of for a score. It was extremely impressive, Katsuki."

"Call me Yuuri. Please." It came out of Yuuri's mouth before he could stop it. Blushing he looked down at the streets below, watching as cars and people looked like ants from this high up.

Viktor chuckled, "Yuuri it is. I'm Viktor Nikiforov. From Russia."

"I know who you are. You're one of the most talented skaters in the senior division." Yuuri smiled to himself, "You're a legend."

"I would suppose I am by this point." Viktor mused softly with a smile, "This is your first time in the Grand Prix finals, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is. I never qualified the past few years." Yuuri blushed deeper, "I wasn't good enough in the prelims."

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and gazed from his peripherals to see Viktor smiling at him, "You placed bronze, Yuuri and that takes talent. Why didn't you qualify the past couple years?"

Yuuri's face had gone slack, Viktor was just as beautiful in person as he was on the ice, his silver hair was glowing in the city lights, his cheeks angular and yet soft. His smile was infectious as ever, "Well, uhm, I didn't land a lot of my jumps cleanly. I worked hard to perfect my triple axel these past few years."

"You had almost perfect jumps in the competition." Viktor said and then let out a chuckle, "It's almost hard to believe."

Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek. If only it was that ridiculous.

"I guess." Yuuri finally sighed.

"So," Viktor smiled out at the view, "what brought you out here? Tired of the party?"

Yuuri nodded, "I guess you could say that. I needed some fresh air."

"Me too. It's hot in there and the alcohol was weak." Yuuri turned to look at the side of Viktor's face and that's when he noticed the champagne glass in Viktor's hand that was about a fourth of the way full, "When they had Grey Goose martini's last year, it was so much better. A lot more fun. It helped loosen everyone up after such a close season."

Yuuri smiled, he had remembered watching the Grand Prix on TV while sulking in his apartment by himself. The season had been really close with Christophe Giacometti had just barely surpassed the South African skater, Mamello Fourie, by a matter of a few points. It had been Mamello's last season before a forced retirement due to an injury that led to chronic pain and his last skate had given him a bronze medal to take home.

Yuuri had won a bronze too this season and he slowly started feeling guilt roll inside him. Mamello Fourie had been an amazing skater, placing more than a few golds before Viktor had entered into the Senior division at the age of sixteen. After Viktor came on the scene, the twenty-nine-year-old skater had placed multiple silvers and then a few bronze medals before his last run. Only Yuuri and the universe knew how wrong this had been in this moment. Yuuri wasn't an amazing skater, he was mediocre at best in his opinion and he had taken the place on the podium of a former skating legend.

And he only did it because he wasn't fully there on that ice.

"W-What happened?" Yuuri asked as he gnawed on his lip, trying to calm the rolling storm inside of him.

"Well, let's just say that a lot of people had too much to drink and people started getting naked. Some of the skaters had started a drunken version of truth or dare, but the coaches didn't allow it for long and shut it down pretty quick." Viktor chuckled softly at the memory and Yuuri couldn't help but smile. He was an awful drunk and he could see himself fitting perfectly into the scene, "We should probably get back inside, yeah?"

Yuuri sighed and nodded, "Yeah. We should."

They had both returned to the party and had gone off on their separate ways. Yuuri was back on his own in the feeding frenzy of shark like coaches and skaters that normally didn't give him the time of day. While the fresh air had been a help to his queasiness, it didn't seem to help with his head that was still pounding behind his eyes and leaving an ache in his neck. Only a couple more hours and then you can go back to bed, he encouraged himself as he made his way over to the refreshments table to grab a glass of water before he would head over to the corner and try to hide from the constant activity of the banquet. He didn't know if he was allowed to drink with the medicines that were flowing through his system at this time, but he didn't want to risk his headache getting worse either so he stuck with something that was good for him overall.

Water in hand, he made himself comfortable in the corner, sipping on the ice water slowly, not wanting to upset his stomach once again. When stepping back from the scene of the banquet, it was actually quite funny to watch. There were people who were socializing normally and civilly, others were borderline drunk, some were being cornered by coaches. There was even a couple drunkenly making out at a table. It was like being at a college house party in some ways…. a really ritzy house party, where everyone was dressed to the nines and not in their typical jeans and t-shirts or party dresses.

"Bonjour, Misuser Katsuki." He felt his blood run cold at the sound of the French accented feminine voice drifted over to him. He really didn't want to face Mira Ashbey at this point. She was gliding over to him in her tight cocktail dress and very high heels, her dark hair bouncing around her equally dark skin. If Yuuri wasn't terrified of her, he would probably be appreciative of her beauty. Wide eyed, Yuuri started looking for an escape. There had to be some place to go, but then he remembered that he was backed into a corner. A literal and figurative corner. There was nowhere to run.

"Meet me down stairs in fifteen minutes with your training gear." Yuuri jumped as the heavily accented Russian voice whispered to him. He blinked in shock as he felt Viktor pat him softly on the shoulder before walking towards in oncoming French coach, "Bonjour, Mademoiselle Ashbey. It's been a long time, yes?"

"Ah, yes, Viktor. A very long time. Congratulations on the gold once again. Have you considered my proposal from last season?" Viktor had met her head on and was steering her in the opposite direction from where Yuuri was huddled. He watched in awe as Viktor guided Mademoiselle Ashbey the other way only turning once to give Yuuri smile and a soft wink.

Seeing his chance to escape, Yuuri walked out the doors of the banquet hall and then ran back to his room.

To Be Continued…

(A/N: Okay, I dunno how long this story is going to be, but as of now, there will definitely be a second chapter. Thank you to Shiranai Atsune for your request! I don't know if this is quite what you were expecting, but I really enjoyed writing this, so thanks for the idea anyways. ^ * ^ Also, just to note, I know that you can't really get super drunk of cough medicine, but for intents and purposes in this fic, Yuuri just has a really low drug and alcohol tolerance. Please R&R. Reviews give me inspiration and motivation, so they really do help. Thanks! –S.A.M.)