Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri on Ice.

Inspired by the customers I serve during my shifts at the donut shop in a college town (but the events in this story are fictional).


Midday Donuts: Collegeville Stories

Chapter One — Maple Bacon

It's hard to force himself out of bed so early in the morning, but if Yuuri Katsuki wants the donut shop to be ready for customers at eight, then he has to make sure to turn on the fryer at seven. He sighs, bleary-eyed, and sits up in bed, pushing his glasses onto his face with his entire palm before forcing himself up off of the mattress with both hands. He dresses and readies himself quickly because, between the mess and the smell of the fryer, it isn't worth being so meticulous. Besides, it means that he can spend the last precious moments of the breezy August morning over coffee with the singing birds before the heat and the customers settle in for the day.

He leaves his apartment quietly to avoid waking his roommate and walks the two blocks to the donut shop. He trudges through dewy, unmowed grass because he sat with the birds just a moment too long; nevertheless, he's unlocking the shop door at seven on the dot. Before even turning on the lights, the first thing Yuuri does is turn on the fryer. The gas doesn't usually light on the first try, but today, it does. Before he forgets, he changes the "Donut of the Month" sign from "Orange Dreamsicle" to "Maple Bacon" and props open the door for the milkman, whose truck is pulling up out front.

"Good morning, Takeshi," Yuuri smiles as the broad-shouldered man comes around the counter to collect crates full of empty milk bottles. Yuuri has known Takeshi for his entire life, but it always feels a bit different talking to him in a work setting, casual though it may be.

"Mornin', Yuuri!" His wide grin lights up the room as he pokes a finger into Yuuri's side. "Been hitting the donuts since you came home from college, huh? Save some for the customers, why don't you?"

Yuuri laughs, knowing that the comment isn't meant to be malicious, but can't help feeling a tinge of embarrassment. It is true, maybe he has eaten a few too many donuts since graduating and returning home, but he's been feeling a bit lost with whether to go to grad school or find a job, and it wasn't like his family couldn't use the help around the shop. "Maybe I'll come help out around the dairy again. That'll surely burn the calories."

Takeshi claps him on the back jovially. "Of course! And Yuuko and the girls will be happy to see you again."

"Ah, of course." Even though he's been back in Collegeville since May, he has only seen the Nishigoris a handful of times outside of work.

"Well, anyway, I'll let you get back to your preparations." Takeshi puts the milk crates on a dolly and wheels them to the door. "Just remember that you're always welcome with us."

"Thank you," Yuuri replies, heading over to the fridge to see what needs restocking. He writes down the order and hands it to Takeshi, who stocks butter and bottles of milk and cream according to the list and calculates the bill. Yuuri writes the check and bids him a fond farewell before heading to the cooler behind the counter. He tops off the levels of icing, toppings, and drizzles, then checks the time. Fifteen minutes left, he thinks, using the remaining time to mix donut batter, prepare coffee, and take the chairs off of the tables before unlocking the door and turning on the open sign.

The summer months usually aren't as busy as the school year, and especially now that the summer semester is ending and the fall semester has yet to begin, Yuuri isn't expecting to have many customers besides some of the regulars and townsfolk who know the milk is delivered every Wednesday. He busies himself with stamping the Midday Donut Shop logo onto donut boxes and paper bags as he waits for the bell over the door to tinkle.

As expected, his first customer is Yakov, who always stops in for his morning coffee on the way to opening the sporting goods store he owns a couple of streets over. While he and Yuuri don't ever exchange more than a few words, the young, bespectacled man would sorely miss the sound of Yakov stirring his medium coffee at his usual table in the back, rustling his newspaper now and again. He finishes up his drink and gives Yuuri a nod before going on his way.

Yuuri sells milk to a number of people, placing the empty glasses they bring back in crates under the counter. So far, he has only made about a dozen donuts total, but as noon approaches, the number of customers picks up, as per usual. A steady stream of high-schoolers on vacation, summer semester students, and workers on break stop in for their fried delights, and while Yuuri doesn't find himself overwhelmed, he does notice that he doesn't have to stop the conveyor belt on the fryer like he usually does. For the first time in weeks, Yuuri has to wonder if he should close early for lack of batter. With one hour left until closing, it certainly isn't worth it to mix even a half batch, knowing that it wouldn't sell, but there was probably only about a dozen or so donuts worth of batter left for the day.

As it turns out, it was wise not to mix more; the door doesn't open again until 1:30, when a blue-eyed, grey-haired man steps in, brushing his long bangs out of his face. He approaches the register with a heart-shaped grin, placing the newspaper that had been tucked under his arm down on the counter. Yuuri can't help but blush, having his idol appear in front of him so spontaneously at his parents' donut shop in a rural college town, of all places. Not that he would remember, but Yuuri had very briefly met Viktor Nikiforov at a conference that past spring where he and his classmates presented their senior projects. In fact, Viktor is the entire reason Yuuri had decided to study literature at all.

"Hello!" Yuuri stutters cheerfully. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm supposed to be meeting someone, but I have some time," Viktor says. "Is there anything you would recommend?"

"Well, we have a new donut of the month; it's maple icing with bacon bits and chocolate drizzle."

"Really? Is that good?"

Yuuri nods. "It sounds a bit strange, but a lot of customers voted for it last month, so we chose it."

"Okay, I'll take one." Viktor reaches into his pocket as Yuuri presses a couple of buttons on the register.

"Ninety-five cents, please," he says, holding out his hand as Viktor presses four quarters into it. "Thank you." He taps the screen a couple more times and throws the change into the drawer, handing a nickel back to Viktor, who promptly tosses it into the tip cup. "Thank you," Yuuri repeats, flipping the switch on the fryer so that a donut drops into the oil. He slides the ticket into the groove on the rack, although he's unlikely to forget it, and opens up the doors on the cooler, stirring up the maple icing so that it sticks to the donut more easily. As he grabs a pair of gloves from under the counter, he notices Viktor leaning on the counter on his elbow.

"Yuuri," the grey-haired man says suddenly, "you've gained a lot of weight since the conference, haven't you?"

Yuuri turns red from head to toe. "Maybe a bit, but only because my parents have been spoiling me all summer." Among other things, he is floored that Viktor remembers him at all. They'd really only shaken hands after being introduced to each other by Dr. Cialdini. "Now that I have a place of my own, I can have more say in my meals." Only a week earlier, Yuuri had signed a lease with his best friend, Phichit.

"Aren't you a dancer, Yuuri?" Viktor drums his fingertips on the counter just once. "You should keep up your physique."

Barely over his first blush of embarrassment, Yuuri feels his face heating up again. "How did you know that?" He's interrupted by the sound of the donut rolling off the conveyor belt into the rotator. Although it's still steaming, Yuuri grabs it with a gloved hand and plops it into the maple frosting, where he lets it sit for a moment before pulling it out with a twist and dipping it into the container of bacon bits. He places the nearly-done donut onto a small plate before removing his gloves and squeezing a pretty design onto the donut with fudge sauce. He smiles, handing the plate to Viktor.

Yuuri concentrates so hard on making a perfect donut that he doesn't remember Viktor's comment, and Viktor doesn't bring it back up as he accepts the plate. "Wow! It looks amazing."

"You can have a seat, if you'd like," Yuuri says, gesturing to his right, where there are two stools at the counter and four tables on the wall. He watches as Viktor decides to sit at the counter next to the coffee urns. Without even realizing it, Yuuri is holding his breath nervously as Viktor takes his first bite. The older man's eyes sparkle as the cakey donut melts in his mouth. "Vkusno!" he exclaims, putting a fist on the counter.

"You like it?" Yuuri asks, unsure of what the meaning of the word is. Viktor nods vigorously, and Yuuri's shoulders sink in relief, a soft smile gracing his face. "Good! I'm glad," he sighs happily, and Yuuri doesn't notice, but it turns Viktor's cheeks pink.

Yuuri hears a noise from the back of the shop, and turns his head to see his sister Mari in the doorway. "Hey, Yuuri," she says. Her eyes turn to Viktor. "Are you the one here about the available apartment upstairs?"

Yuuri's eyes widen as Viktor swivels his stool to face her, the heels of his feet together and his knees spread, between which his hands grip the edge of the seat. "Yes! I'm Viktor Nikiforov."

"Huh?" Yuuri's hands hit the counter, his palms flat against the cool surface. "You're moving in here?"

"Yes," Viktor replies happily. "Starting this month, I'll be studying at the university for my doctorate's!"

Yuuri can't help but wonder how working at a small donut shop turns each day into an adventure.