The wooden floorboards squeaked and squealed with every grunt. Yuuri had a weird thing where he made a tiny squeal every time Victor brushed his hand on his earlobes. It was a major turn for Victor as he continued to have his way with the timid man underneath him. Everything was perfect as they joined together again and again in their new apartment.

However, one thing was bothering him.

"Yuuri," Victor said as he stopped with his actions. Yuuri looked up at him as he kept gasping for air.

"Keep going, Victor. Please."

"I will my pork cutlet. But first, can we please take that picture off the wall.

Yuuri looked over to the charcoal grey wall opposite him. It was a picture of him when he was younger. The rotund boy with extra layers of jackets and coats was falling down on his skates while his mother watched him from the side of the rink.

"What's wrong with the picture," Yuuri huffed.

Victor stammered. "Well, it...it's just weird to make love with you while I'm seeing you as a five-year-old. It's kind of a turn-off."

Ten seconds later, they continued.

Yuri Plisetsky was done with his life.

Lying on the twin bed with pink comforter, the blonde teenager growled with fury as he flung the covers to the side. Leaping to his feet, he yanked the white door open. The bare white walls in the hallway were dark as an old chandelier swung around on the ceiling. Yuri bolted down the hallway and climbed up the stairs like a firefighter in a burning building.

Once on the second floor, he went down the lavender-scented hallway and came upon a blue door. He hammered on it with a clenched fist.

"I haven't been able to sleep all week because of you two! Stop it," he shouted.

The rumbling stopped as a few whispers escaped the room into Yuri's small ears. He heard clothes being thrown while the bed creaked more.

Yuri looked down at his phone. Another night of terror at 3 A.M.

The door opened. A taller gray haired man huffed to catch his breath. Wearing a too large grey sweater and sweatpants, he smiled while lassoing air into his lungs. Their blue eyes matched while Yuri shivered in disgust.

"It smells like a cat died in there," Yuri shouted. "Can you put some air fresheners around here next time."

"Well, good morning to you, Yurio," Victor said.

"Don't call me that, old man," Yuri yelled. "I have a fucking test tomorrow, and I can't sleep with you two fucking every night."

A brown haired man with glasses popped his head into the doorframe. His hair was shining in the moonlight with sweat as he tugged the collar on his big red sweatshirt. "Please don't use that language in my house."

"Shut up, Yuuri," the Russian shouted. "Bottoms aren't supposed to talk."

"What do you want, Yurio?" Victor said with a grin.

"Just sleep like normal people. I'm tired of coming up here to tell you two to stop having sex. How the hell is it even possible for you two to go at it this long?"

"Yuuri has stamina," Victor said with a wink.

Yuuri blushed as he turned around and headed back to the large bed in the giant master bedroom. Victor chuckled as he started to close the door.

Yuri thrusted his hand at the door and held it open. "Listen, old man. I don't care who has stamina or what. I need sleep, and you're getting in the way of it. I won't win shit at Grand Prix if you keep doing this."

Victor frowned and scratched his grey hair. They fell silent as the soft rumbling of cars rolled past them from the street below. Victor looked at the fuming Russian. Maybe he had been a little selfish with Yuuri and their proclivities.

"Okay," Victor said. He turned around towards his fiance. "Yuuri, daytime sex only. We can't keep Yurio awake anymore."

Yuri rolled his eyes and turned around. "I'm going to sleep. Wake me up at seven."

Yuri took a sip of the drab tap water from the golden faucet. The condominium had a decent view of Downtown Detroit as the sun began to rise on another gray day. The clouds hung low as cars travelled on the streets like ants building a colony. Yuri leaned on the black marble counter while the classical music from his routine played in his headphones. He adjusted his toes in the white slippers he had on as he munched on a protein bar. The television sat dormant next to the large bay windows leading towards the balcony overlooking the city.

Yuri hated Detroit. He hated the rink Yuuri and Victor had him skating at. He hated the routine he was being forced into by his new trainers. He hated the school he had to attend.

"It will be great for your health," Victor said at the dinner table one day. Piling katsudon on his plate, Victor chuckled. "Maybe you're learn how to be a real teenage boy."

That, and America had laws about kids under a certain age being educated. In Russia, nobody cared as long as you brought pride to the country.

Victor ruffled Yuri's blonde hair, causing him to shriek in shock at the surprise. He leapt forward and rubbed his head.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Morning person, I take it?" Victor said with a grin.

"Shut it," Yuri said. "I have to go school."

Yuri reached down for the white backpack and shrugged on his Russian team hoodie. Throwing the hoodie over his head, he dragged the backpack on the linoleum floors as he reached the front door.

"Have a great day," Victor said. "Enjoy being a normal kid."

"Fuck you," Yuri said. "See you at practice."

Yuri opened and slammed the door. Fumbling in his skinny jeans pockets, he pulled out keys and locked he front door. Yuri was always worried that the unlocked door in the morning would lead to a robbery. He wanted to save any potential home invaders of witnessing Victor and Yuuri celebrating their new apartment.

Yuri went out onto the street. The strong wind stroked Yuri's pale skin as he walked down the cracked sidewalk. Kicking a rock, his frown deepened with every step he took passing the shabby hole in the wall. He smelled caramel, and he hated caramel.

That was the place Yuri met Victor and Yuuri when they told him to come and visit them. He remembered the conversation like it was yesterday. When they told him that they would be his trainers, he nearly choked on the hot caramel latte. He swore he still had burns down his throat.

"You want to train me? After lying like last time, you think I'll fall for it?"

"I know I messed up, Yurio. The good news is that Yuuri is now officially retired, so we can both help you win the Grand Prix."

Yuuri sat in the corner with a look of anxiety stretching over his face for an hour as they hashed out the details.

Victor was an opportunist, Yuri thought. He didn't actually care about him. he cared about winning. That's why he jumped ship to the Japanese skater. He did not want to be used again. Not after the disappointment of the past two years. If Victor wanted to circle-jerk him, he would shank him with the used needles he saw laying around in the alleyways of this stupid city. Out of all the places in America, they had to pick one of the poorest and most dreadful ones in the world. Why couldn't they live in Los Angeles or even New York City.

"There's more to this country than the coasts, Yurio," Victor lectured him. "This places means a lot to us. It's where Yuuri got his start."

"That was actually Japan," Yuuri corrected as he drained down another white chocolate mocha.

"The other reason is, since property value is low around here, rent isn't all that bad. So it's either here, or you can spend ten grand living in a closet in Hollywood."

Even though Yuri yelled that he would rather live in a serial killer's basement than with them, his training regiment required that he be near the two morons.

There was something in those cerulean eyes that made him believe Victor. He seemed like such a carefree person. Would he really be smart enough to make a long con like that? Win the guy, and then the future figure skating champion of the world.

Yuri scoffed as he walked down the street hunched over and his hands stuffed in his pockets. They were probably screwing each other like bonobo monkeys right now.

Yuri looked up at the large brown building in the middle of the city. It was an old building, but at least it had running water and electricity. Some schools in this area did not even have that much. Yuri kept his head down and walked through the metal detectors in the front entrance before climbing up stairs. The grandfather clock in the lobby said he was five minutes late again, but Yuri could not care less.

Leaving Russia sucked. Packing all of his belongings into a plane and having it lost by movers for two weeks was bad, but finding out that he had to live in one of the worst places possible was even worse. The icing on top was living with the gay lovebirds that could not go two minutes in practice without making out. Yuri had to tap on the glass of the ice rink and get them to concentrate. It was horribly distracting.

A gasp.

Yuri looked up just in time to crash headfirst into a vending machine. He bounced off the surface and fell to the ground. His body ached from the sudden impact, but his ego was forever bruised by the sad run-in. He felt a pair of feet rumble up towards him.

"Oh my god, are you okay? Did you break something?" A light, soft voice said.

Yuri looked up and saw a pair of blue eyes. Unlike Victor's, these were much darker and practically sparkled in the dim florescent hallway light. Stepping back slightly, Yuri saw it was a blonde girl wearing the green school uniform. She had a clear white face and straight blonde hair in a pixie cut.

Yuri stumbled to his feet and groaned. "Damn it. I should look up once in a while," He said in his thick, Russian accent.

The girl gasped. "Is your neck okay? Was that from the fall?" She asked.

Yuri felt his neck. The skin still stung from the dark bruise that spread over the side of his neck covered by his hoodie.

"No, that's from something else."

The girl sighed. "Okay, that's good. Are you new here?"

Yuri rolled his eyes. Looking down at the linoleum floor, he began to saunter away. "Can't talk. Have class."

The girl trotted next to him. "With who?"

"Mrs...I forgot. It's an American sounding name. Still not great with english yet."

"Mrs. Jones?"

"Maybe."

"No, that's her name. You're in my class. You sit in the corner by the window every day."

Yuri looked at her. She had a small smile on her soft, angular face. "You stalking me?"

She scratched her neck. "Stalking? But we're in the same class. How could I be stalking you."

"Because you know my teacher's name."

"We're in the same class."

Yuri sighed. "I haven't been paying attention, so I don't know who is in that class."

"Maybe you should meet people."

"I met you, I guess."

"What's my name."

"Don't care. Late for class."

"We don't have class. The school emailed us that first period was cancelled today for the lockdown drills."

Yuri snorted. "Lockdown drills?"

The girl nodded. "Every year, we practice lockdown drills in schools around here. Today is another of them. Technically, I'm the police officer, so I have to pretend to arrest you now. I'll let you go though if you tell me you're name."

Yuri rolled his eyes again. "Lady, you should know my name by now. I hear people say stuff about me all the time."

"You're Yuri Plisetsky."

Yuri shrugged. "So are we good? You Americans are so talkative for no reason."

She laughed. "My name is Isabel."

"Again, don't care. So, this lockdown stuff, does it happen in this country often?"

"Not really, but pretty much everyone carries a knife around here. You never know when you'll have one used against you."

"That wasn't on the tourism website, but thanks for telling me," Yuri said. He looked around and took out his phone. Texting Victor, he made a note to ask about this sort of stuff later.

"I'm leaving now," he said while turning around to head down the stairs. Before the girl could say anything else, he ran across the large lobby and out of the doors. An extra few hours at the ice rink would help clear his mind.

The katsudon Yuuri made was pretty bad compared to the stuff they make in Japan. However, Victor seemed to care zero as he munched down the food like it was his last meal on death row. He kept talking and touching Yuuri in certain areas under the table, which made eating with them quite stressful. Every time Victor began to play footsie, Yuuri would leap up a mile in his chair. His face became redder than the tomatoes rotting in the refrigerator.

"Seriously, though. You did well today, Yurio," Victor said. "I just need more of that emotion towards the end."

"I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on love, old man," Yuri said. "I cant give you those emotions yet."

"That's the piece that we have made for you. If you want to win Skate USA, you can't skate the program out of anger."

Yuri slammed down his fork. "I don't skate out of anger. I skate out of desire. Out of my need to win. You may not realize that since you two have already won Grand Prix, but I haven't gotten that desire out of me."

Yuuri cleared his throat. "Well, how was school today. American schools are always fun, right?"

"I skipped today."

"Again?"

Yuri rolled his eyes. "We had some of the day off because these schools do some strange drill. Like a fire drill, but for other stuff. A girl in the hallway told me that."

Victor gasped. He dropped his chopstick with the drama of a fainting southern belle and clasped his hands together. "A girl told you that? Is it a girl you know?"

I knew you would go nuts," Yuri said mostly to himself. "No, I didn't meet her. She said words. I said words. That's it."

Victor smiled and took Yuuri in his arms, snuggling with him like a mother black bear defending her cub. "That's how my pork cutlet and I met. This could mean something. After all, this program is about l-."

"I know what the program is about. That's why I hate it!" Yuri shouted. He shot up like a lightening bolt from his chair and ran towards his room. Flinging the door open, he jumped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

This was the routine in Yuri Plisetsky's life. Wake up to the sound of Victor and Yuuri, go to that awful school in this awful city. Go to the rink. Practice. Do enough to get a C in English, and go to sleep after yelling at Victor.

With six weeks before the first competition in the Grand Prix, all of that was going to be thrown upside down.

Hello there, be sure to rate and review as much as possible. Consider it a good deed of the day.

I'm hoping that this will be a fine and original story for everyone. There will be plenty of fanservice and laughter, and maybe even a few tears. I know this i sa newly emerging fandom, but considering the other fandoms I have seen, I feel like this sone has serious staying power, so I hope you all love it.

Review, and good day!