This is a one-shot of Yuuri and Victor's second date from my Restaurant AU - "Be my chef, Yuuri"
I couldn't fit this in the original story line because of timing issues, but have decided to share it! It can be read as a one-shot, but definitely works better as an additional scene to the longer work :)
As the seasons changed in St. Petersburg, leaving the cool breezes of spring behind for the warm rush of summer air, Yuuri felt compelled to be outside as often as possible. He ran, mostly as a tool to quiet the always waiting storm in his mind, but also to absorb all that he had grown to love in this foreign country. When they had arrived here, summer had been fading, fall slowly creeping in to strangle the colors from the world. It had been a hard winter for their first in Russia, Yuuri and Phicit almost losing their joint resolve to stick out their agreement to stay for a year. The sale of the Restaurant by the Water had thrown a wrench in their plans, leaving them pondering their next move sitting on a couch that they had dared to buy. Neither of them had felt confident about the possibility of leaving, an unsettled decision that had them hesitating to pack their belongings.
Racing over the bridge, feeling the wind whipped around him by moving vehicles, Yuuri let his body move on auto-pilot as his brain continued to tick the steps that had brought him to this moment in his life. The fated conversation between Phicit and Mama Chulanont, encouraging them to pursue employment at Nikiforov's. The traditional shots of sake in the back of the car as it drove them to the front of restaurant, perched above the city overlooking the water. The first time Yuuri had ever laid eyes on Victor Nikiforov.
Slowing as he reached the front of his apartment, Yuuri reacted to the interruption of the notification from his phone, pulling it from his armband while he stretched. As if the man could read his mind, a cheerful text appeared across the screen from Victor. "What are you up this evening?" It was such an ordinary question with such an extraordinary effect on his blood pressure. Yuuri had run five miles and it wasn't until he attempted to craft a response that his heart truly began to thud in his chest. "Heading to check out the farmer's market near my place. Any chance you want to join me?" In an attempt to calm himself, Yuuri jogged the stairs to his apartment, throwing the door open and tossing his body onto the carpet, startling both Phicit and his hamsters. The ding on his phone had him swallowing hard.
"I would love to. Pick you up in an hour?"
He smiled so fast he felt the sting of a pulled cheek muscle. "Sounds good," he sent back, smiling into his knee as he tossed his phone on the couch, giving Phicit the go ahead to read the exchange. Barely having a chance to stretch his other leg, he was laughing as his best friend, still covered in hamsters, dragged him from the floor, exuberantly shoving him toward their shared closet.
The air had heated so that the requirement of jackets was no longer a consideration. Yuuri sported a plain black t-shirt, fitted and pulled over the waistband of his jeans. He wasn't a fan of purposefully distressed jeans, but Phicit had forced the pair on him because of the way they formed to his best asset. Opting for dark loafers instead of his tennis shoes, he had passed the Phicit approval test and was allowed to leave the apartment to wait for Victor. He had been unable to stand still any longer with Phicit picking at him, fleeing outside to relieve his nervous energy. Closing his eyes, he let his back lean onto the brick wall of their building, feeling heat on his face and the slight breeze in his hair.
Victor almost wrecked his car as he spotted Yuuri, leaning serenely back against the wall in a tight t-shirt and jeans that made all of his curves stand out in statuesque perfection. Willing his mouth to create spit to ease the dryness, Victor beeped his horn, waving awkwardly when Yuuri casually glanced his way. This was their first outing alone together, and if the pile of sixteen different discarded outfits on Victor's floor was any indication, this was the most nervous he had ever been.
Yuuri slid into the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt. Twisting to greet Victor, he felt the words vanish on his lips as he took in the way the ice blue of Victor's collared shirt made his eyes sparkle. Somewhere outside of himself, Yuuri heard himself say "hey," but it sounded breathless and a little dazed. Clearing his throat, he moved his eyes to the street in front of the car, hoping that not looking at Victor would help him function. "The market is up a few blocks." He wave his hand nondescriptly at the street.
Chuckling, Victor put the car in gear, "I know the one, my parents used to take me there." A comfortable silence fell between them as Victor wound through traffic heading for their destination.
The street was lined with booths carrying everything from spices and nuts to raw produce and large fish. Large stalls held cooked food, menus hanging on chalkboards, giving the chefs of these tiny walk-ups the ability to change their menus at a moment's notice. Noise was all around them, people bartering prices, while others shouted orders. It was a pleasant assault to the senses, requiring attention from each in turn as they moved down the crowded marketplace.
Despite his dislike for crowds in general, Yuuri found solace in the hustle of this place. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that this market wasn't operational solely in the early hours of the morning. Even with the rotating vendors, Yuuri had found some that he recognized whenever he ventured there. Maybe it was the surrounding feeling of his passion, maybe it was the continuous source of new inspiration, or maybe it was comfort of now familiar faces behind the stalls; whatever it was, this small city market had become a place of refuge for him. Eagerly bouncing on his toes, Yuuri led Victor through to his favorite stands, grabbing his date's arm in excitement every time he found something new to explore.
In all the people he had met in his life, Victor had never seen anyone shine as brightly as Yuuri did when he was hunting for answers in the colored stalls filled to the brim with various edibles. A long list trailed from Yuuri's left hand with rapidly filling bags tucked into the bend of the same elbow, the right grabbing out at Victor's arm every so often to emphasize the excitement of a found item. More often than not, Yuuri became so enamored with his discoveries that he slipped fluidly between English, Japanese, and incorrect Russian. Victor was hardly following what Yuuri was saying, and was still adoring the man more and more with every passing second. He wished in vain to ever find a passion as strong as the one Yuuri had for creating kitchen magic.
The hours passed quickly, far too quickly for Yuuri's liking, and soon he found his stomach growling, making Victor giggle beside him. Sheepishly, Yuuri suggested choosing several dishes from the prepared foods carts so they could sample them together at the nearby picnic tables. Agreeing with the idea, Victor disappeared toward a family-owned booth boasting homemade wine, while Yuuri made haste to decipher all the dinner choices. His Russian was nowhere near fluent, however, he had picked up enough to not be a complete disaster while ordering. Reconvening at a picnic table set up on a grassy knoll under a pink flowered tree, Yuuri and Victor took turns explaining their finds to one another, Yuuri's stacked bags of ingredients balanced on the end of the table to hopefully avoid ants.
Eating with Yuuri had to be similar to sitting beside an acclaimed director in a movie theater. He noticed nuances in each dish, explaining them to Victor in a way that was pure poetry, not an ounce of condescension in his tone. And the faces he made, Victor could easily write his own pages of rhyming verses about the pleased pinch of Yuuri's eyes, or the lax smile as he savored each bite. Only more beautiful than Yuuri's expressions were the small noises of enjoyment, little hums and sighs with every bite, each burying into Victor's memory, making him wonder briefly if anything else caused Yuuri to make such delicious noises. Catching himself staring at Yuuri, his thoughts spiraling dangerously out of control, Victor quickly changed his thought course, pointing to a little paper boat with meat and rice.
With a hand cupped under his own fork, Yuuri offered a perfectly balanced bite of spiced meat and seasoned rice to Victor's waiting mouth. His hand shook as Victor's lips parted to accept his offering, the hint of Victor's tongue reaching the fork first and almost causing Yuuri to drop it as his mind veered to a place dripped in sultry desire. Regaining himself, he lifted another option to his nose, examining Victor over the cardboard edge as the silver-haired man chewed.
His brain wasn't functioning properly, still replaying the instinctual divide of Yuuri's lips as he had fed Victor from Yuuri's plastic fork. Slowly he processed that his mouth had begun to burn, the sensation building quickly, overwhelming him and causing him to gasp. His eyes shot wide, watering with the pain that was slashing at his tongue. Waving wildly, gagging and begging for water, Victor snagged the bottle from Yuuri's rushed hand, dumping half of it on his face before successfully adhering the edge to his lips, gulping hard. He downed the entire bottle, slamming it down as he struggled to breath against the dissolving heat in his mouth.
Worry mixed with amusement for Yuuri, as Victor, red-cheeked, wide-eyed, and partially soaked began to rant about the devil food. Biting his lip, Yuuri struggled to hold back his laughter, finally losing it when Victor flung his arm, the last drops of his water bottle landing on his face. Reaching over the table, Yuuri used the knuckle of his index finger to wipe the water droplets from the flushed face, unable to suppress the loving shake of his head at the beautifully disheveled man. Nothing they ever did seemed to be without injury to one of them, and Yuuri was glad this time, it wasn't him.
Victor accidently achieved vengeance for his scalded tongue as they ate ice cream, side-by-side watching the sun set over St. Petersburg. Glancing sideways, Victor was caught off-guard as Yuuri swirled his tongue over the top of his ice cream scoop.
"What?" Yuuri asked, feigning innocence while fitting his lips over the now peaked ice cream.
"Skilled tongue, huh?" Victor flicked his eyes back to Yuuri's mouth as his date inhaled his ice cream, choking fiercely on a chocolate chip, leading Victor to pat his back with a sympathetic chuckle. It may have been a flirting joke with the hope of flustering Yuuri, but Victor was sure he would never be able to shake the image of Yuuri and his ice cream cone, letting his pats settle to a rest, not dropping his hand from Yuuri's back. He felt the electric shocks as Yuuri settled into his side, Victor shifting to wrap his arm around Yuuri's waist, struggling to eat his own cone one-handed, stubbornly refusing to relinquish his hold on Yuuri.
Later, Victor would recall the way the sunlight reflected off of Yuuri's glasses as it disappeared over the horizon. He would remember the way Yuuri's hair smelled of something hinting of lavender as his head nestled onto Victor's shoulder. Mila would endure his endless descriptions of how their bodies fit together, a perfect match in every way. And in the same way Phicit would scold Yuuri for his hesitation, Mila would physically shake Victor for being too scared to kiss Yuuri – again.
For now though, they leaned on each other, ice cream long forgotten, Victor telling Yuuri stories about visiting the market with his parents and Yuuri describing his favorite dish and how his family had the tradition of making it together. They remained oblivious to the onlookers swooning over the lovey picture they made, standing together watching the day fade away, highlighted in the orange glow of the disappearing sun.