Note: I wasn't going to continue this, but this idea kept running circles in my head so I had to write it down.

Yuuri wanted to delete that episode in the locker room with other skaters altogether. Phichit shouldn't have said anything about his past work in the host club at all. In fact, his best friend (whom he has half the mind to denounce that title) shouldn't have shown the pictures either. Really, it wasn't a big deal. He needed the money, and the job offered excellent pay and connections – it was a solution where everyone benefited.

Sure, it doesn't match his image (or so Phichit constantly reminds him every time they reminisced this story, which they don't need to – but what image?) but who cared about details? He sure doesn't.

So, why does he feel like an angry kitten that is Yuri and wants to scream every time Victor gives him that lookfor the past two weeks?

That puppy-dog look (one he was positive Victor learned from Makkachin), and non-subtle glances at various dresses he caught the older man looking at from one of Mila's fashion magazines. Oh, he knows what Victor wanted; but he wasn't going to comply if his pride had anything to say.

He ran away from his coworkers 29 times the first time they tried to do a cross-dressing event, and they caught him 29 times. Suffice to say, his manly pride took a huge blow… more so, when they took pictures and posted it outside the club for everyone to see. He thought that was the end of that saga (with corsets, frilly laces, hair extensions, makeup, and killer high heels), but no… Phichit had evidences of that dark past and shown it to everyone.

Yuuri took a long sip of his champagne while he eyed boringly at other skaters and coaches conversing with sponsors. The banquet, no matter how many he attended, was still boring… although he had a feeling that Chris brought in that portal dancing pole mockingly standing in the middle of the room. It was a hint at something which he wasn't going to pay attention to. He already made a fool of himself at Sochi, and he wasn't going to repeat it again this year, thank you very much.

"Yuuri~~"

"Is there something you need, Phichit?" Yuuri responded in a deadpanned tone.

He was positive his best friend conspired with Victor – both are traitors, if he had anything to say. Then again, it wouldn't surprise him if Chris was in this scheme to get him to cross-dress either. Why else would that pole be at the banquet otherwise? Or that all-knowing smirking expression that the Swiss skater gave him every so often?

Phichit gasped dramatically as if his words wounded him. "Yuuri, can't I greet my best friend without needing anything? I didn't raise you to be that way."

"You didn't raise me at all, Phichit. Don't be silly." Yuuri interjected with an unamused look, and took another sip of champagne to ignore the Thai skater's shocked expression at his sassiness.

"—Anyway, I wanted to know if you –"

"Whatever it is, the answer is no."

"But I didn't say anything yet."

"The answer is still no." Yuuri gave him a knowing look. "I know you, Victor, and Chris have been conspiring to get me to cross-dress. You weren't exactly subtle in your social media posts, and Victor had been looking through Mila's fashion magazines when he thinks I wasn't looking."

Phichit gave a nervous laugh at the response as he scratched the back of his neck, and tried to persuade his friend, "But Yuuri, you'd look amazing in them."

"It's still a no."

If his pride as a man had anything to say, he wasn't going to cross-dress just because his fiancé and friends wanted to see how he would like. Oh, he knew he'll never live it down if he did – Phichit would undoubtedly post it on social media (he was thankful for small mercies that Phichit didn't post his past cross-dressing pictures) and it would be on internet for forever. He could feel the embarrassment just thinking about it.

Once was more than enough, thank you very much.

Yuuri, somehow, managed to find himself alone once again after Phichit had to talk to a sponsor. He still hasn't moved from the buffet table – not that he wanted to since there were various array of cakes and finger sandwiches. He knew he would gain weight from eating these, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. They were that good, and he was a stress eater. And boy, was he stressed.

"Katsuki Yuuri."

He quickly plopped another finger sandwich in his mouth before he looked over to the owner to the voice. It was an older man with graying black hair, dressed in an expensive suit (a Brunello Cucinelli brand, his mind supplied) and polished dress shoes from same brand as the suit. The only reason he knew luxury brands was due to his past occupation (can he call it that?) as a host.

Yuuri's eyes widened in recognition, and he quickly gave a bow as he uttered, "Ah, Suzuki-san. How is Yukina-san doing? Also, I hope you are having a good time."

"My wife is doing well, thanks for asking. I saw your performance, and I must say, I was pleasantly surprised."

He blinked at the comment while he pondered on the words 'pleasantly surprised'. Was that in a good way? Bad way? Did he do that badly that Suzuki-san was phrasing it politely?

"Ah, thank you."

"You were so graceful and fluid out there. I know you mentioned you were a figure skater when we met at Club Orchid, but I didn't think you were competing internationally." Suzuki-san continued with a hearty laugh. "Besides, you look so different that I never would've guessed it was you if I didn't know your real name."

"I don't think I was that different, Suzuki-san." Yuuri laughed nervously.

Seriously, he wasn't that different with or without his glasses – or if he slicked his hair or not. Of course, he knew Phichit would beg to differ and say that he's being a Sinnamon Roll instead of Cinnamon Roll. He doesn't get the difference, but he wasn't going to say that to Phichit because there was no way he'd sit through a long explanation. Besides, why would anyone compare him to a pastry roll? Why?

"Trust me son, you look different, especially during those cross-dressing days." Suzuki-san stroke his beard thoughtfully with a chuckle. "Yukina wouldn't stop talking about you after she visited your club. I thought she had a girlfriend on the side and was cheating on me until I saw your pictures. It's too bad that you quit. Then again, maybe it's good that you quit because I wouldn't have to be jealous of you."

"I just don't think it'd be good if I continued." Yuuri answered with a timid smile and a sweat drop. Really, how does one respond to that kind of statement without making things awkward?

Suzuki-san hummed in understanding, and cleared his throat, "Oh yes, that reminds me. Do you still race? I remembered that you mentioned participating in street racing when you were a teenager."

Yuuri looked at the older man in alarm before he glanced around the area, trying to see who heard that statement. It seemed all other skaters were busy conversing with one another or with other sponsors. He nervously sighed in relief and looked back at Suzuki-san, who looked thoroughly confused by his behavior.

"Please, please, please… don't mention it out loud." He pleaded with his hands clasped in a prayer manner. He then leaned forward and whispered conspiringly, "I know you sponsored cars for me since my racing days – I still don't know how you found out the first time – but no one here knows about that part of my past. I don't plan on letting know either. It was bad enough that they knew about my hosting days. They've been trying to make me cross-dress, you know."

Suzuki-san tried and failed to contain his laughter at the last remark. After a few seconds, he replied just as conspiringly in above whisper, "I hope that you still do. I need my number one test driver for our sport cars lineup. It certainly surprised me when my wife told me she saw you at Club Orchid. This is after my jealous fits, by the way. I thought we were paying you well so you wouldn't have to take another job."

"You did. But I somehow got roped into the club, and next thing I knew, I became one of the hosts. It wasn't that horrible so I stayed." Yuuri shrugged helplessly. "Well, that was until those theme days."

Suzuki-san laughed again in response, sounding like he remembered those days when Yuuri was reluctant to come into the club. "In any case, contact me when you have some free time, yeah? I have some jobs for you, and since you're of age, legally might I add, I'll even give you one of your choosing. I can't believe I hired you when you weren't of legal age, and we didn't get caught. Ah, good times."

"Yuuri~"

He immediately looked alarm when Victor suddenly called his name, and within seconds, the Russian skater draped around his shoulders. He nervously gulped while he pondered how much of their conversation has Victor heard. Does he know? How much did he hear? What should he do?

"Who is this, and what are we talking about? Are you doing something illegal? Do I need to contact my lawyer?"

Well, someone had been hanging out with Phichit, that was for sure.

"I'm sure you remember Suzuki-san, one of my sponsors." Yuuri supplied with an anxious smile, and that was all he was going to say.

There was no way would he mentioned that Suzuki-san and his wife were his clients when he was a host, or the fact that the two had hired him as a test driver for Suzuki sport cars before he was of legal driving age. In his defense, he is a good driver… granted, he liked speed but he never had accidents (bumping into a trash can or three when he parked doesn't count).

Overall, no one needed to know this information.

"So, Yuuri –"

"The answer is still no." He replied in a deadpanned tone. He already what his fiancé wanted to ask, so he gave an unamused look at Victor's puppy dog eyes, which he was immune to those eyes considering he had years of experience during his hosting days.

"Mila bought a new dress –" Victor started.

"Good for her, but the answer is still no."

"Ah, come on, Yuuri-kun. You should try it for old times' sake."

"You too, Suzuki-san? I thought you were on my side."

"Well, I wouldn't deny that you looked good, and it hasbeen a while since I've seen you." Suzuki-san smirked while he swirled his flute of champagne.

A mildly annoyed twitch appeared on Yuuri's forehead as he untangled himself from Victor's hug, and stared at the two men for a good minute like he was contemplating about Suzuki-san's remark. In the end, he uttered, "You will never catch me alive," and promptly ran away.

Thirtieth time is a charm, after all.