Yuuri does what everyone expects. They are both a pining, confused mess. I can't write angst without humor, so here we go.

Flashbacks are in italics :)

The room was slowly filling with light as the curtains blew in the slight breeze. The pillow was cool on his cheek, and he slowly gained consciousness, a smile spreading on his face as reality of the night before trickled into his waking mind. Feeling weight on the bed behind him, he shifted, eyes still closed and heart still hopeful.

Turning blindly into the warm body, Victor snuggled close, rubbing his face into it. When he felt coarse hair against his cheek instead of warm skin, he cautiously opened one eye. He was greeted by a large tongue licking his face. "Ah, man, Makkachin!" he opened both eyes to see his large poodle panting in his face. Scratching his dog's head, he sat up reaching for his cell phone. A text from his dog walker told him that Makkachin was dropped off twenty minutes ago. Victor laid back, happy with his own forethought to schedule a Friday overnight playdate for his dog with his second favorite dog buddy.

Then it hit him.

Glancing over Makkachin's haphazardly scattered body, Victor sighed at the empty bed occupied now only by him and his loyal furry best friend. Shoving away the covers, he kicked his feet down not bothering to get dressed. He wanted Yuuri to at least be in the guest room, his heart already knowing that this wouldn't be the case even as he walked to the window. The car was missing from his driveway, a sight that made his stomach sink as he pressed his forehead on the glass.

It made sense, really. They had been on the wrong side of drunk, making decisions that maybe they shouldn't have.

But Yuuri had come back to sleep with him.

Victor had been falsely hopeful that Yuuri's willingness to snuggle next to him was sign of something more. That hope felt small and ridiculous now as Victor stared down at his empty driveway, desperately opening and closing his eyes wishing that the deep blue of Yuuri's car would blur back into existence. Leaning now with both arms, Victor felt the wetness leaking onto his cheeks, feeling the bump of Makkachin against his legs.

Overwhelmed with his own jumble of emotions, Victor sank to the ground, gathering his dog close and dissolving into a puddle of uncertainty and doubt.

Yuuri's eyes opened a few hours later, staring at his own ceiling. He was a coward. There was no other way to describe him. Slipping away before Victor could miss him was pathetic and immature; the panic of how comfortable he was in Victor's arms rising up to clench at his chest once again. Idly stroking Vicchan's head as the fluffy toy puddle nuzzled his face, Yuuri attempted to rationalize his decision.

He was happy, really happy with life. He was damn good at his job, had great friends in Phichit, Seung-gil, and Victor, and generally enjoyed life on a daily basis. In no way did Yuuri need a man to make him feel complete. It was a ridiculous notion put forth by their over-romanticized society. Yet, and he felt the panic again escalating, complete was the most prominent word to describe the feeling of being in Victor's arms.

So Yuuri had run, slipping quietly from the room and out of Victor's house without ever disturbing him. Life was great as it was, and he wasn't going to monkey that up for anyone, not even the man who could easily be the love of Yuuri's life. Groaning with the realization of his last thought, Yuuri buried his face in his pillow and let the memories of the night wash over him in a bath of guilt.

Every moment had been stolen from a bad romantic comedy. The light-hearted banter, the first kiss that had made the floor collapse beneath Yuuri's feet and then the sex. Oh God, the sex, Yuuri thought, body shifting in reaction to the instant recall of how incredible it had been. There was sex and then there was the indescribable way Victor had demolished Yuuri's sanity through physical pleasure. His heart rate peaked as Yuuri frantically shoved the reminiscence away from the front of his mind, begging his body to let him have some peace.

Pushing up, he scooped up Vicchan to head for his living room. Giggles filled the empty space as Vicchan did his best to worm between Yuuri's soft neck and the even softer fabric of the red sweatshirt he was sporting. Even his poodle's cuddles couldn't relieve his stress, as Yuuri leaned into the tiny snuggling body.

Vicchan had been a Christmas present from Victor, the same year that Yuuri had gifted Victor the giant ball of fluff that was Makkachin. They had both been excited to surprise the other, ending in hysterical laughter at the identical presents. Victor had, of course, named Yuuri's present after himself, and Yuuri had never had the heart to change it. As the furry Vicchan settled against Yuuri's chest, he tried to shove away the lingering thoughts of cuddling the human version. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Yuuri moved out of his bedroom, seeking caffeinated salvation from his thoughts.

Plodding into the kitchen, Yuuri grabbed his glasses from beside the coffee maker, putting to use the necessary tools to brew a pot of coffee. Idly, his fingers tapped on the counter, waiting for the familiar sounds of caffeinated goodness preparing for his consumption. Thoughts invaded his brain again, forcing him back to all of the cringe worthy parts of the day before.

The mental picture of him stretching to the ceiling in the middle of Victor's bed made him wince, as did the reoccurring thought that he had failed to think through the actions that lead him to practically go ass-to-mouth with himself. Shaking his head, he refocused on the dripping coffee.

Unfortunately, his blatant denial of the occurrences of the night, left room for remembering JJ's brief return to his life. Groaning, Yuuri banged his head into the nearest kitchen cabinet. How he had once again ended up in JJ's embrace was beyond him. The thought made his mouth twist into an ugly grimace, his head banging hard against the wood and making Vicchan bark loudly at him in response. It was almost as perplexing as the week he had spent dating JJ, which his devious mind decided he now needed to overanalyze.

He hadn't even meant to date JJ. Letting the groan escape, Yuuri banged his head again realizing it was another decision brought around by Victor. Well, technically, by Victor's absence. If Victor hadn't been so wrapped up in whatever guy-flavor-of-the-month he was into, maybe he would have shown up that night and Yuuri wouldn't have been alone at the bar. Maybe if Victor was there, Yuuri wouldn't have agreed with Sara to trade his bar tab for his class notes, taking pity on the barmaid as she often fell asleep in class after working the two jobs she needed to pay for law school. If Victor had shown up that night, instead of ditching Yuuri for his newest boyfriend (a term Victor used much too lightly in Yuuri's opinion), Yuuri wouldn't have ended up playing a game of pool against JJ. He certainly wouldn't have ended up making out with JJ and agreeing to another date.

If Victor had showed up that one night, Yuuri wouldn't have spent a whirlwind week meeting all of JJ's friends and avoiding his own. And he certainly wouldn't have dragged JJ to Phichit's birthday party, straight into the belly of the beast that was Yuuri's group of friends. It was a night Yuuri wouldn't forget, and his brain was determined to force him back through the most embarrassing portions of it.

The music was loud by the time they reached the bar, Yuuri hesitantly letting JJ keep their hands intertwined as they pushed into the dim lit building, the sounds of terrible karaoke wavering over them. On stage, Phichit was serenading Seung-gil, who was an amusing mix of humiliated and hopelessly in love. Seated in a rowdy group to the left, were the rest of his friends, including Victor who had his arm slung over a mildly familiar pair of shoulders. A pair of shoulders that would probably be different within the week, Yuuri thought bitterly, wrapping his hand tighter into JJ's. Dragging his date forward, Yuuri marched toward the group, yelping slightly when Phichit acknowledged him mid-song.

It might have been his imagination, but Victor's smile seemed to disappear before reappearing although it no longer reached his eyes. Yuuri introduced JJ to the group as a whole, startling when Victor stood to shake JJ's hand. The wince was not subtle as JJ withdrew his grasp from Victor's, moving the arm to pull Yuuri into JJ's side. There were odd vibes tremoring between JJ and his best friend, and Yuuri automatically looked to Phichit for help. When Phichit only laughed from his place on stage, Yuuri sighed into a chair, hoping whatever weirdness would vanish as the night went on.

Instead it got worse. JJ was inherently loud and boisterous, and with every laugh his stories received, Victor had a story to tell of his own. They leaned over Yuuri, in a bizarre challenge until JJ excused himself to go to the bathroom. Pushing back from his chair, Yuuri crossed the room to the bar, jumping when an arm slammed down over his shoulders. Peering up, Yuuri cocked an eyebrow at Victor in silent question.

"Your boyfriend seems…" Victor tapped his finger against his lips as if looking for a word, "like a real asshole." He finished with a flourish, a sarcastic smile winking at the edges of his lips.

"Not my boyfriend," Yuuri said, making no effort to remove Victor's arm from his body. "Only you throw that word around like it's a ten-cent-hooker," Yuuri ignored Victor's laughter, thanking Sara for his drink before turning to face Victor head on. "For some people it takes longer to establish those labels than others. For some people it means something." He saw a brief flash of hurt in Victor's eyes, before feeling his elbows wrapped with Victor's strong fingers.

"I don't like the guy, Yuuri," the way Victor said his name, an affectionate accented drawl, made Yuuri take a step closer. "Get rid of him. He isn't good enough for you." Yuuri was searching Victor's face for the joke, still trapped by the demanding grip on his arms when a throat cleared behind Victor's head. Glancing around his best friend, Yuuri saw a semi-furious JJ. Shaking Victor off, Yuuri reached around to grab JJ's hand.

Before he could speak, Yuuri was being dragged outside, barely slipping his drink on the bar without spilling it. The grip on his hand was unbearable and as soon as they broke the plane of the door, Yuuri shook it free. "What in the-" His protest was cut short by the rough kiss, painfully assaulting his lips until Yuuri pushed free. Wiping his mouth, Yuuri stared at JJ.

"So, what..." JJ stepped back, flailing an arm, "why am I here? To make that guy jealous? Is that it?"

Yuuri stood silent, in shock. Shaking his head, Yuuri ran a hand through his hair. "Victor isn't jealous."

"There is a group of fifteen guys in there Yuuri and you didn't even hesitate to point out the exact one I'm talking about." JJ folded his arms over his chest, glaring at Yuuri from a mere two feet away.

Silence hung around them, reducing their world to two people as the realization hit Yuuri hard. "That's just who I was talking to, I assumed..." Yuuri trailed off.

"You're in love with him," JJ was yelling again, making Yuuri recoil. "You're in love with him and you are just using me. No wonder you wouldn't have sex with me. How could you? Unless you thought about him the whole time!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" It was Yuuri's turn to shout. "It's been a week! I wouldn't sleep with anyone that fast! It doesn't mean that I'm… you know… with… you know," Yuuri hung his head as JJ scoffed.

"You can't even say the words!" JJ turned on his heel to walk away. "You're an asshole, Yuuri Katsuki. An asshole who doesn't know what he wants, or you do know and instead you have decided to toy with other people." With that, JJ was gone, leaving Yuuri to gawk at his retreating back.

Those were the last words he had heard JJ speak until the dickhead had shown up in Yuuri's office and decided it was appropriate to throw kisses around. Forehead braced on the cabinet, Yuuri found other thoughts beginning to trickle in. Why would JJ have called Victor to be his attorney? Victor Nikiforov wasn't a common name, especially when the firm was also attached to Yuuri's last name. There was no way JJ didn't recognize the name. So why…

Yuuri's spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the click of his coffee machine, signaling the completion of the brewing process. He had spent the entire ten minutes stewing in his own awkwardness, and wanted nothing more than to drown out the circular considerations with a gallon of coffee and copious amounts of mindless television.

Finally able to move the pot, Yuuri filled his favorite mug to the brim, scooping Vicchan from the floor to move back into his living room. His stomach was too tied up in knots to eat, so he disregarded the idea of food as he crashed onto the plush red couch. He was determined to stop thinking about JJ, hopefully forever, and he was even more determined to ignore any hints of thoughts about his Friday night.

Remote in one hand, coffee in the other and a happily snuggling Vicchan in his lap, Yuuri pulled his knees to his chest, flipping on his large television. He paused to send his sister a thank you text for letting Vicchan out the night before, and set the phone aside to choose a binge-worthy show. As the opening scene began to play, Yuuri balanced Vicchan in his tucked lap, coffee mug balanced on his knee, retrieving his phone to capture the moment. Yuuri giggled at the sight of his hidden face under the red hood, making the irrational decision to post a rare picture to his barely used Instagram. Using the hashtag "Perfect Saturday," Yuuri hit the post button and tossed his phone on the couch, prepared to wash his thoughts away with fictional drama.

Victor had spent the rest of his sleepless morning staring at his phone willing it to ring. He wasn't sure if he should text Yuuri, or even call him, feeling lost without a clue of what to do. If it had been anyone else acting as his Friday night lover, Victor would have shown up at Yuuri's house, bribing his best friend with coffee and donuts to listen to Victor whine pathetically about his perfect night with the perfect person. Unfortunately, it wasn't just anyone. This time it was Yuuri and Victor was left without his main source of advice.

Yuuri was his go-to on practically any subject matter, which meant Victor was woefully without counsel on this particular issue. He had sought Yuuri's guidance on everything from school, to mortgage fees, to furniture choices, to romantic decisions. Yuuri had always patiently broken down each problem, helping Victor reach a logical solution. Now, that help was nowhere to be found, and it was proving impossible for Victor to simply reach out to Yuuri directly, the fear of being shoved away becoming more debilitating with each minute.

Instead, Victor paced his hallway, desperately trying to recall all of Yuuri's past advice. He remembered when he had broken up with David, Yuuri had told him to find someone more selfless than the over-demanding drama queen that was David Lee. When he had been dumped by Stan Stevenson, Yuuri had told Victor to find someone who would make Victor laugh, instead of making him cry all the time. And when Victor had been ghosted by Leif Thompson, Yuuri had emphasized that Victor deserved someone that supported him and wanted to help him succeed.

As the advice cycled through his head, Victor found himself once again sprawled on his floor, this time occupying the slender span of his upstairs hallway. Yuuri had made him homemade chicken soup when Victor had the flu before finals, and convinced their hardest professor to allow Victor to take the exam three days late. It had been Yuuri that had suggested drunken Mario Kart to cheer post-Stan Victor up, purposefully driving into walls and cursing out the cloud-riding creature to make Victor laugh hysterically. Through the LSATS, the bar exam, and every single class, Yuuri had kept Victor organized and motivated, pushing him to excel when Victor wanted to give up.

Throwing his entire body dramatically over the floor, Victor let the weight of these memories crush him. Yuuri had been giving him advice, and then acting as living proof of every piece of it. Only a glowing red sign that said "it's me you are looking for, you moron" would have been more obvious. Victor wanted to die of ignorant shame as he slapped a painful hand to his forehead.

For the hundredth time that morning, Victor lifted his phone to stare at the screen. Noting the Instagram notification, he swiped it open, mindlessly opening his Instagram app as his brain short-circuited with too much information. "Katsuki_Yuuri posted for the first time in a while," stated the notification as if was no big thing. He stared at the first picture on his feed for a few minutes, a smile slowly spreading on his face.

His red hoodie. Yuuri might have slipped out in the night, and maybe neither of them were really brave enough to face the morning after; however, there Yuuri was, cuddling his tiny brown dog named for Victor with the distinct red of Victor's hoodie covering his head. Whether it was intentional or not, the hope Victor had tried to suppress resurfaced faster than a diver running out of oxygen.

The phone pinged next to Yuuri's thigh and he pulled his eyes off the television to check the notification. "Nice hoodie, thief," read Victor's comment, a number of winking smiley faces appearing after the words. Smiling in spite of himself, Yuuri locked his phone, settling back into the couch cushions with an exaggerated sigh.

Saturday had quite possibly been the longest day of Victor's young life, dragging into the wee hours as he had struggled to fall asleep with the battle of his feelings still raging inside of him. He had scrolled through every text message Yuuri had sent him in the last months, looking at the biting comments in a completely different way. What if Yuuri wasn't fighting with him? What if Yuuri was flirting with him? The possibility was too tempting, leaving Victor awake in his bed for far too many hours, and his dick sore from too many rounds of actively reliving the thoughts of his night with Yuuri. It had been months since Victor had felt the need to jerk off, but he had done so six times throughout Saturday, Yuuri being the star of every fantasy.

Sunday had finally dawned, bright and hot, forcing Victor from his bed to fulfill his commitment to Phichit. Every Sunday of spring and summer they watched baseball together and every fall and winter they watched football. Other sports invaded their time, especially during the Olympics when they couldn't get enough of swimming and figure skating, but their standing Sunday plans never wavered. Even with Seung-gil's parents in town, Victor knew his presence would be expected, so he hauled himself into the shower and then out into the summer heat.

Sprawling on a leather recliner, Victor idly sipped his beer as he vaguely monitored the game playing across Phichit's insanely large television. Phichit was equally as sprawled on the matching recliner, grunting in the general direction of the game as he downed his third beer. Seung-gil's father had vacated the couch, headed in search of snacks in the kitchen where Seung-gil and his mother were busy preparing dinner.

"This game sucks," Phichit threw out, obviously grumpily into the third day of having his house invaded by his in-laws. Although Seung-gil was very happy and appreciative that his parents were there, Phichit was very excited to have the excuse to get back to the office on Monday morning, a sentiment he had whispered to Victor as soon as Victor had arrived. Together, they had walked around the parameter of Phichit's house, pretending to examine the wilting gardens as Phichit vented about his house guests. Victor had laughed at Phichit's rantings, letting them delay Victor's own nervous news.

Grunting in response to Phichit's statement, Victor glanced toward the kitchen, verifying that the whole of the Lee family was preoccupied. Letting his eyes fall on the mound of Makkachin and Phichit's husky, curled together in an exhausted pile, he tried to get up the courage to tell Phichit the one thing he had been avoiding all day. Turning slightly to look at the side of his best friend's face, Victor narrowed his eyes. "I slept with Yuuri."

Beer sputtered from Phichit's mouth in a similar manner to a cartoon character doing a spit take. "Um, come again?!" Phichit was sitting up, jaw slack wiping the beer off his shirt while staring at Victor.

Chuckling, Victor sat back, "wasn't it your suggestion to bang one out?" He heard Phichit grumble and slowly sipped his beer.

"I mean," Phichit wiped the drops of beer out of his slight stubble, "yes, technically that was my idea, but I never thought you would go through with it." Setting his beer down, he moved onto the couch closer to Victor's seat. "And?"

"And what?" Victor kept his eyes on the TV. He could hear the frustrated muttering coming from the couch and couldn't help feeling amused. Phichit spent so much time teasing him about his spats with Yuuri, it was nice to finally have the upper hand on the torture.

"And what now? Also, was it good or weird? Fill me in here!" Phichit punched his friend on the shoulder, causing Victor's beer to slightly spill on his own shirt.

"I don't know." Victor ran a hand idly down his shirt contemplating Phichit's questions. Was it good? Certainly the best he had ever had, although he would hesitate to say that part out loud. What happens next? He had no idea. He hadn't spoken to Yuuri since they fell asleep together in his bed. Victor had drafted multiple messages to his best friend turned lover over the past two days, but had erased every one of them. Yuuri was at his parents' house today, the same as every Sunday, which meant his phone would be off and other than the one post yesterday all of Yuuri's social media had remained quiet. All Victor had managed to sort out for himself was that Yuuri was probably it for him, and he had no idea what to do about it.

"The shit?!" Phichit sat back on the couch, slapping his forehead with his hand. "Dude, I didn't mean have sex with him and then become stupid. Well... more stupid," Phichit dramatically rolled his eyes as Victor grumbled his disagreement. "I thought it would snap things into focus for you." Victor felt the eyes zero in on his face as he determinedly glared at the terrible version of baseball being played on the big screen. Phichit mumbled something and then gasped. "Wait a minute," an accusing finger appeared in Victor's periphery vision, "you know. Damn, you know you are in love with him."

Victor sat quietly, eyes still on the television. Slowly he nodded his head without speaking.

"Well, then we are back to, and now what?" Phichit leaned back to grab his beer, swigging heavily from it, "you know, you have been in love with him from the first time you met him. I know, I have heard the story." Phichit's all-knowing smirk turned irritated as his father-in-law walked into the room and took over the other recliner. He shot Victor an irritated look that conveyed that the conversation was far from over.

Settling back into his chair, Victor let Phichit's words sink in. He hadn't known Phichit when he officially first met Yuuri, but the story had been retold by Seung-gil so many times that Phichit had taken to retelling it himself. It wasn't until it ran through his mind, with the Phichit filter firmly in place, that Victor really felt the second-hand embarrassment seep in.

Finals had officially dragged Victor to his breaking point, causing him to pass out with gum still firmly pressed between his locked jaw, only to wake to find the same gum waded in his long hair. In a harsh and reactionary decision, Victor had sliced his ponytail from his head, trekking with his backpack in tow to the nearest salon to repair his hasty work. With his head filled with regret, but lighter in hair, Victor pushed his grouchy way into the library searching for a table among the crowded room.

A vaguely familiar head of black hair was hunched over a stack of books, hand flying over a lined pad making careful but quick notes. The boy's head bobbed, in time with whatever music was pumping through his oversized headphones. Victor found himself mesmerized by the motions, the rhythmic head bobbing combined with the skillful note taking creating a fascinating picture.

"Nice hair. Go say hi, it is creepy when you stare at people."

The voice at his shoulder made Victor jump, almost tripping on the shoelace of his tennis shoe as he twisted around to find his roommate calmly examining him. "Hey, Seung-gil," Victor tried to sound like he hadn't just been lusting after some random stranger in the library, "are you studying somewhere? I need to sit…" Victor's voice trailed off as he watched the dark-haired boy pull off his glasses and lean back to stretch. Next to Victor, Seung-gil chuckled.

"I think you'll like the answer to that question." Pushing Victor's shoulder, Seung-gil shoved him until they reached the table.

Brown eyes peered up at Victor, and he felt a twist in his stomach. Of course he was familiar.

Snapping his headphones onto his neck, Yuuri frowned at Seung-gil. "You know this idiot? What happened to your hair?" The second portion of the questions was aimed directly at Victor.

Seung-gil shrugged, his quiet demeanor barely giving away his amusement. "This is my roommate, Victor. How do you know he is an idiot?"

Victor tossed his bag on the ground, flopping into the seat directly next to Yuuri, pretending to be undaunted by the teasing, but quietly quaking as he entered Yuuri's space. "Because he handed my ass to me in a debate yesterday in sociology," Victor grinned when Yuuri chortled. "Excellent points by the way, even though your delivery was cocky and yet ill-constructed." Victor liked the way Yuuri bristled with the challenge.

"Maybe it only sounded ill-constructed because it was too much for you to comprehend. Or maybe all your hair was covering your ears."

Yuuri's tone was tauntingly appealing and Victor twisted to face him. "Let's test your hair hypothesis. Wanna go another round?" Victor raised his eyebrow in challenge, seeing the intrigue spark on Yuuri's face.

"Anytime," Yuuri quipped back, "I love easy wins."

Victor felt the laughter bubble over as he settled in next to Yuuri, both of them placing earphones in place, but exchanging smirking glances as they did so.

It took considerable effort not to groan as Victor let the entire memory reel play out in his mind. The banter had started before they even knew each other, battling in class over every subject, even when Yuuri was only playing devil's advocate to challenge Victor on his arguments. Their competitive nature had continued into law school, often leaving other students in their verbal dust as they point, counter-pointed each other through every subject.

And it wasn't just in class that they found themselves in the middle of sparing. Every subject could be debated, every conversation was highlighted with the bob of their perfect oral ping pong. No one had ever tested Victor the way Yuuri did, and in turn, no one had ever been such a constant source of inspiration. Yuuri forced Victor to be at his best all the time.

Victor was trapped with his own silent realizations, the resounding knowledge that he was in love with Yuuri Katsuki pounding at him to be released into the world. He hadn't wanted to cancel on his plans with Phichit for Sunday sports viewing, a long-standing tradition in their friendship, but he found himself longing for it to be the two of them. It was almost worse to be stuck in a room, being drowned by his own thoughts, where his friend sat a few feet away and unable to listen to Victor rant. The alternative, slowly driving himself mad by wandering through his own house, sounded even more unbearable to Victor's aching heart.

Resolved to remain quiet, letting the sands of his sanity slip away through the useless sieve of his mind, Victor stared hard at the TV willing himself to momentarily forget the conundrum that was the best and the worst realization of his entire life.

Yuuri set the dishes down on the dinner table, calling out to his older sister. She was five years older than him, and unlike Yuuri she had not immediately pursued a career, instead continuing to help run their family's business. Mari was comfortable living at home, hanging with their parents, and generally living a life dictated by them. As if to hammer in the stark comparison between the two, Mari came lumbering down the stairs in sweats and t-shirt, while Yuuri adjusted his button down shirt over his jeans. If he had arrived to dinner wearing sweats, his mom would have sent him home to change. Mari, however, didn't even appear to have showered that day.

Closing his eyes briefly to push down the frustration, Yuuri restarted his placement of dishes without focusing on the task at hand. A glance at the table had him retrieving an extra dish and returning to the kitchen with it. "Mom, you handed me an extra one." Yuuri stated without emotion. His brows furrowed when his cheerful mother took the plate, added silverware on top of it and pushed it back toward the dining room.

"No I didn't, sweetie," his mom's voice had a sing-song tone to it which immediately alerted Yuuri to the fact that he didn't want to hear the rest of the sentence, "we are expecting company this evening. Now finish setting the table and run a comb through your hair. I would like you to wear it back for dinner."

Perplexed, Yuuri set out the additional plate and all of the silverware, grunting at Mari as she nudged his side. When he didn't inquire further, Mari nudged him again flicking her eyes down to the extra place setting. "Mom is playing match maker again."

Yuuri sighed. His mom had become increasingly worried about her children's continual lack in the serious romantic partner department. Every Sunday they had dinner together and every Sunday for the last two months, there had been a new person at the table, handpicked by their mother as a potential suitor. She was the most wonderful woman in the world, and Yuuri adored her, but in light of the events of the weekend, and Victor's complete lack of contact for almost forty-eight hours, Yuuri was positive he couldn't handle one more person. Nervously wringing his hands, Yuuri finally glanced at Mari. "You or me?"

Mari snorted, shaking her head. "I think mom has given up on me. This time, she is definitely gunning for you." Mari slapped him on the back, and Yuuri swung his hand out, narrowly missing his sister's shoulder as their mother shuffled into the room.

"Yuuri! What are you doing?!"

Yuuri's shoulders sagged as he took the blame for the jointly initiated contact. There was no use arguing it, he had learned long ago that Mari was the golden child and it was easier to accept the blame than to rage against the injustice. "Sorry, mom," he muttered as he walked out of the room and toward the staircase leading to the upstairs bathroom.

"Brush your teeth again and make sure you run a comb through your hair!"

Yuuri mocked his mother's words as he closed the bathroom door examining his face in the mirror. Yuuri had not slept well the night before, a combination of too much television and caffeine and not enough movement. And one other thing.

The cold water splashed from the palms of his hands onto his exhausted face as he tried to shake Victor from his brain. Countless times yesterday and throughout the night he had found his mind returning to Victor's bedroom. Yuuri enjoyed sex and had a reasonable number of partners over the years, but something had been notably different with Victor. He had attempted to reason it away, yearning to convince himself that it was merely the explosion of almost a decade of offhandedly wondering about Victor's sexual prowess. His heart knew that the reasoning was built on a foundation of crappy logic. His body knew he was full of shit. His brain, however, was anxious to continue the long strand of denial that he was weaving together into a full-fledged blanket. Jumping when the door banged open, Yuuri eyed Mari suspiciously.

"You know," Mari crossed behind him, cracking a window before lighting a cigarette, "you could finally decide to date Victor and be done with all of this. Mom and Dad love him." She was too busy flicking ash out of the window to see Yuuri wince.

His parents did love Victor. Everyone loved Victor. It was Yuuri who always left people confused and a little uncomfortable. This is why he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Victor was regretting their indiscretion on Friday night. Victor always agonized over calling someone he was interested in, and caved in to his own pressures, reaching out to potential love interests far earlier than Yuuri thought appropriate. When Yuuri's phone had gone without notification of text or call for two whole days, he had resolved himself to the knowledge that he wasn't worth Victor's obsessive pining. He had watched Victor pine over some absolute losers, and Yuuri was not above admitting to himself that he felt a little stung by Victor's lack of interest. He didn't have the highest opinion of himself, but Yuuri knew he was, at the very least, better than the majority of guys Victor had dated.

The sadness must have leaked through while he was lost in his own head, because Mari placed a calm hand on his shoulder, making Yuuri flinch from the touch. "What's going on, little brother?"

Yuuri calmly considered Mari in the reflection of the mirror, reading her question as sincere. "I slept with Victor," he ignored Mari's "about time" comment and kept going, "I don't think I can stay with the firm any longer." Somehow in the last twelve hours, these two decisions had become linked in Yuuri's mind, not shaking even when Mari scowled at him.

"That only makes sense under one condition," she paused, waiting for Yuuri to inquire further. When no inquiry came, Mari shook his shoulder, "if you aren't in love with him, then forget it happened and leave the firm. If you are though…" Mari was laser focused on him, making Yuuri squirm, "it is time to stop pretending you are weak, and be the strong man we all know you are." With a final shove to his shoulder, Mari walked from the room.

Combing shaking fingers through his hair, Yuuri raised an eyebrow at his reflection when the doorbell rang. Sunday dinners were sacred in the Katsuki family. They were supposed to be family member only traditions, broken only when other family members were visiting from out-of-town. The last few dinners hadn't adhered to this rule, and Yuuri was finding it difficult to accept this change, especially as the distinctly male voice floated up the stairs.

He thought briefly about jumping out of the second story window. When his mom's voice called out, Yuuri sighed knowing that he couldn't make the jump from the window without falling and a broken leg wouldn't be worth it. Resigned to survive, he unlocked the bathroom door and dragged himself downstairs.

"He wasn't that bad," Mari's barely repressed chuckles had Yuuri rolling his eyes. "At least he was a doctor, what was the last one she tried to set you up with?"

Yuuri felt relaxed, feet propped up on the banister as he and Mari rocked in the matching front porch swings. "She thought he was a veterinarian."

"Oh! Wait! That's right!" Mari crumpled in laughter with the memory. "Language barrier," was all she could sneak out between her giggles.

The man had been a taxidermist, and had given them a very detailed account of how he could stuff and preserve Vicchan for Yuuri whenever his beloved dog died. Mari had excused herself to laugh in the pantry and Yuuri had fought the urge to throw up, willing Vicchan to run away and hide from the terrifying man. He had hoped his mother had learned her lesson, but the urology surgeon who had been tonight's guest of honor, told him a different story. A story containing painful and bloody surgeries, which was correspondingly filled with his mother's regret. Yuuri had been given a second helping of dessert along with excessive amounts of sake in hopes of being encouraged to forgive. He had hugged his mother as soon as the dreadful man had left and then plucked the sake bottle from the table, retreating to the porch swings with Mari.

The summer night was thick with heat, but Yuuri watched as the guests of the hot spring sat around a bonfire eating s'mores. All fifteen cottages had remained booked for the summer, the last round of vacationers currently at the beginning of their week-long stay. Kids ran through the grass catching fireflies in the traps that his mother made by hand, while the adults drank sweet wine and chatted around the campfire. It had been one of the busiest summers on record for the family-owned campsite and hot spring, and Yuuri felt the guilt creeping in. He hadn't been nearly as helpful this year, with the law firm only starting to build its clientele and needing all hands on deck to do so. He knew that Mari was a huge help to his parents, but it didn't change the fact that he should be there. Watching the scene before him with a thoughtful consideration, Yuuri barely registered Mari speaking to him.

"Yuuri!"

A hand slapped on his shoulder, making him startle and send his swing moving from side to side. Settling himself, Yuuri threw an aggravated hand up at Mari.

It was her turn to roll her eyes, settling back against the swing and replacing her feet on the top of the banister. "What are you going to do about Victor? You aren't really going to run away are you? I know you are in love with him."

Sake splashed down the front of his shirt as Yuuri completely missed his mouth. "What do you mean, you know?" Yuuri shoved the bottle toward his sister, refusing to make eye contact.

"Yuuri," Mari was exasperated as she tipped the bottle to her lips, "everyone knows, it's the way you are around him. No one brings out the snarky, sassy side of my little brother quite like his handsome silver fox of a best friend."

Yuuri snorted, "you're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously right," Mari shot back, shoving Yuuri's shoulder. "Now what are you going to do about it?"

Yuuri stared ahead at the fire, letting the question rattle unsettled in his brain.