A/N: I wrote this whole 'fic while completely blitzed. It's just fluff and randomness with no real purpose. Take it with a grain of salt.
The Sochi banquet was well underway, and the participants were in full swing of the festivities. Lurking on the outskirts of the party, remorseful that he had to be there in the first place, Yuuri grumbled inwardly, angry and embarrassed at his failure.
People were dancing and having fun, and he was fucking miserable.
Forget it, I'll just have a drink and people watch.
One flute of champagne turned to two, and that turned to four. Somewhere after the seventh he finally lost count, and felt the disgust in himself fade to the back of his mind like static from an old TV disconnected from the cable box.
And out came Drunk Yuuri, stretching his body like a lazy dragon awakening from it's nap.
Yuuri shrugged languidly out of his blazer and dropped it somewhere on the floor. He tugged at the too tight tie and loosened it several inches, sauntering over towards Chris with a smirk.
The Swiss skater arched a brow when he noticed the Japanese man coming towards him, grinning widely. Oh dear, he's completely gone. This should be interesting…
"Heyyyy, Kuriiiisu~," came his light sing-song voice, and Chris laughed a little, intrigued. In that moment, the older skater knew he'd have to keep an eye on his younger friend, lest he do something stupid. "Hey, Yuuri-cchi," he offered a fun suffix to his friend's name, amusement clear in his laughing eyes.
The dark haired young man latched onto his blonde friend with a sloppy hug, partly to keep himself on his feet. Glasses had been tucked into his back pocket, and those sienna eyes - usually filled with second-guessing and trepidation - burned with a light Chris had never thought was possible to see in his eyes: sensuality.
The Swissman shuddered positively.
If I wasn't already spoken for…
That 'come hither' stare was turned back towards Russia's Ice Prince, and Chris smirked. "You've got it bad, Yuuri-cchi."
"I'll make him pay for being so damn good all the time," he smirked darkly, and Chris blinked several times, both at the tone and the positively carnal stare in his friend's eyes.
Yep, this is gonna be fun. "Whatever you've got planned for him, I'm in. I don't care what it is."
Yuuri smiled drunkenly up at his taller friend. "Looks like that Silver burned as much as I thought."
Chris 'hmm'ed, nodding, a slight edge to his vision taking root in his eyes. "Give me five minutes and a few more shots, and I'm good."
Yuuri patted his friend's cheek a few times and detached himself from the blonde, following after him to have one more shot. Go big or go home, after all.
True to his word, the silver medalist practically spun around gaily to his raven-haired friend, a determined and sultry grin on his face, rubbing his hands eagerly. "What's the plan?"
"Dance battle, I think. Getting naked, pole dance, more drinking, the whole bit," stated Yuuri, grinning. "Just need a few fun songs to give to the DJ, and we're set," he nodded, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his dress shirt.
"Sounds good. I have a few ideas."
"You never disappoint, Chris."
The two of them tripped their way over to the DJ and dropped a handful of songs on him. When the DJ motioned to them that the first one was about to start, Yuuri unbuttoned the rest of his shirt & let it flap around him untucked.
At the first beat of Usher's 'Can't Stop Won't Stop' cane on, Yuuri and Chris both started to dance, getting everyone else's attention, including the gold medalist.
Viktor stared questioning at the two dancing, eyebrows raising more as a few others joined in like a flash mob. He half-noticed when Otabek quietly traded places with the DJ, improving the track with some custom spinning.
Yuuri nodded his head over his shoulder to the slightly younger man, favoring him with a grin, to which Otabek nodded and gave a thumbs up - 'Leave this to me.'
When the first song bled away, the second kicked up - Single Ladies. The gold and silver ladies medalists jumped in behind Yuuri, and the three of them started to replay the MV for the song.
Chris was clapping as hard as everyone else, back-stepping until he was side by side with a clapping Viktor.
"You know him pretty well," came the Russian's amused voice.
"We're good friends, yeah. Met him back in Juniors," Chris nodded, pausing to wolf whistle at the low dip leg work Yuuri was doing. "It's rare when I find myself wishing for a moment that I was single."
"Oh?" Viktor turned his eyes towards his friend.
"For you, of course, though I know there's nothing there," Chris mentioned breezily. "And then there's Yuuri…"
Viktor stopped watching the blonde and turned to focus on the now dress-shirtless younger man, whose tie was slowly becoming undone by this point.
"When he's not so caught up in his own mind and he's loosened up, that man drops panties and could make any heterosexual male gay for him. No joke," he smirked, turning to watch Viktor, who was clearly entranced with the dancer, then looked back at his friend as the next song picked up - 'Confident' by Demi Lovato.
"That's my cue~!"
Viktor watched his friend practically skip away to join the dark haired skater, molding themselves together. Something twinged inside his gut at that, and he wasn't sure why.
"I wonder why he fell apart in the Long Program," he heard someone from the background ask, and he was curious to know why. This man clearly knew what he was doing and how to move. He was strong and lithe, and had rhythm. I wonder what it would have been like earlier if he hadn't self-destructed… Probably amazing…
The pressure of a competition was no joke, and Viktor wasn't one to downplay it, even as good as he was. But it made him a little sad to see someone completely buckle from the pressure.
When 'Bang Bang' came on, he even saw his own rink-mate and current Junior Grand Prix gold medalist join in the fray, even despite the disgust on his face. Viktor itched to join the dance-off. Chris couldn't be the only one allowed to invade Japan's airspace, after all.
So he did.
The rest of the evening was spent in a dance battle of sorts and everyone was having a blast. The music was loud and the beats were jumping. Clothes for some of the competitors were bleeding away, most notably Chris and Yuuri. Although it was common for the Swiss skater to be semi naked, it was the first time the Japanese national was so under-dressed. Celestino said nothing, just happy that his skater was having fun, minding his own business.
A few more swigs of the massive Brut bottle that Yuuri was carrying around and the pole was found. Chris was already stripped down to this tiny briefs, having a blast, dancing on the pole. When Yuri joined him for a spectacle, tons of ladies were making cat calls at them, which only served to egg the men on. There would be a lot of fantasies going around in dreams in the wee hours of the morning.
Viktor was transfixed as much as they were.
Who was this young skater, and how did he have such a crazy store of charisma? He had almost every pair of eyes in their generation, as well as some of the next generation, glued to his sillouette, just like Viktor's own skating had them spellbound when he set blades to ice.
Later in the evening, he found those eyes staring blearily up at him. Those arms around him caused something to squeeze in his chest, and he found it hard to breathe. Something deep within the recesses of his soul locked into place.
"Viktorrrrr," the younger man slurred, his eyes sparkling up at him behind the apparent haze of alcohol, and through the navy blue frames. An unnamed emotion swirled about in those sienna eyes that the gold medalist couldn't name, his brain so murky from the depths they were falling into those eyes.
"Heyyyy, if I win… this dance battle… Come to Hasetsu, Viktor. Be my coach, okay?" The man's arms squeezed tighter around the taller man, and he felt his heart spasm.
Viktor Nikiforov, god of the ice and world champion, actually blushed, speechless. Chris snapped a photo during a moment of clarity from his own haze, smirking.
And that was the moment Viktor Nikiforov fell in love for the first time.