Did someone ask for a quick, fluffy, somewhat humorous one-shot? No? Well here it is anyway!
Summary:(Modern Office Worker AUish / Cinderella AUish?)
Viktor gets down on his knee and brings the shoe up backwards in his hands. "If the shoe fits, we're meant to be."
Yuuri, to his credit, doesn't burst out laughing. He hides it behind a hand. Because Viktor can't be serious. "I think we missed a few of the Cinderella plot points."
And AUish is a thing, I swear.
"She's not a dog person, Makka-bear." Viktor pulls Makkachin closer on her leash, stooping to rub her puffy ears. "I guess I should have asked that on the first date, not the third. She looked like a dog person," Viktor considers, talking to his dog as if she can understand. She whines, and Viktor puts on one of his show-stopping smiles just for her. Makkachin's whine morphs into a reprimanding bark as she puts her paw down on Viktor's hand where he braces himself against the ground. "Can't fool you, huh?"
Viktor glances up, the early morning hours clearing the streets and rendering the city quiet and humble. A car swishes by, thumping as its tire hits a pothole, but the driver barrels past. Few people remain out, couples with twined limbs and brushing lips and Viktor doesn't watch for much longer. An ache spreads, and he remembers why he wanted to walk when he got home late from his third and final date.
Viktor looks back down at his Makka, and thinks that maybe she is the only girl for him. "She likes cats," Viktor says, sticking his tongue out. "Ucky, huh, Makka?"
Makkachin barks back, and Viktor laughs.
He doesn't notice that she isn't barking at him.
Viktor is still laughing as he stands, ready to continue forward and let Makkachin lead with her whimsical nose, but is stopped as he is struck by something blunt and hard and pain blossoms at the back of his skull.
Viktor grabs for his head, rubs the area with soothing circles, "Ow…" and searches behind him to find nothing. No one. Viktor looks down to find a rather worn black shoe now caught between the bars of a grate at his side. Makkachin barks at the shoe like it's going to attack. To be fair, to her, it may seem like it.
"Did someone throw a shoe at me?"
"I just got fired, Phichit. Fired," Yuuri cries into the cell at his ear. He's ascending up the stairs of his apartment building, his steps heavy and his feet sore. He's spent hours walking around this city getting his head together, but all it has done is tangle up his thoughts more until he's ready to scream. "Christ. I'm going to be penniless. Destitute. I'm going to be like that toothless, homeless person outside of my apartment building."
"The one that babbles incoherently at you until you fork over half of your life savings?" Phichit asks back, but Yuuri is hardly listening.
"I know I was an idiot, but did I really have to get fired?" Yuuri pushes the wrought iron, roof access door open, its hinges shrieking loudly. Yuuri ignores it. He ignores all of it. The door slams against the wall and Yuuri feels like he's broken through a barrier. He's in his spot, the roof with the view that brings him comfort, clarity. He still feels like a whiny ball of failure. "Did she really have to?"
"Yes, because your boss is– was–" Phichit corrects with a cough, "-a bitch. I know. I met her. She takes dragon lady to the level of chimera."
"Is a chimera even a dragon?"
"Yes." Phichit pauses, "I think so?" and Yuuri can imagine the little processor in Phichit's head whirring. Phichit clicks his tongue before the sound of typing continues in the background. "Whatever. If I were to rate her between Mushu and Smaug. She would be Smaug. Happy?"
"Are those the only dragons you know?" Yuuri chuckles, tugging at the knot of his tie so he can finally breathe.
"Toothless and Haku don't seem appropriate."
"This entire aside doesn't seem appropriate. Ugh." The tie finally yanks free and Yuuri throws it to the ground, stomps on it with all of his anger. The gravel beneath crunches and crackles as if it's feasting on its new meal. "How could I have been so stupid?"
There's a loud slurp in his ear, and Yuuri knows Phichit is on his eighth cup of coffee by now, can feel the acid burn that must be sitting low in his friend's throat as he stares dutifully at his screen in the wee hours of the morning. "I'm sure it wasn't that catastrophic of a mistake, Yuuri. She has been looking for a reason to fire you since she hit on you at the Christmas party and you turned her down for the guy in the IT department."
Yuuri winces. "That's not how it went…"
"What was his name again?"
"She didn't hit on me."
"I was your plus one. I was there. I saw it."
"Just thank god you didn't tweet about it."
There's a snap of fingers. Yuuri can feel a nerve snap with them. "Todd! His name was Todd."
"We don't talk about Todd."
"I want to talk about Todd."
"I fucked up so badly." Yuuri can't stay still and he starts pacing. The crunch of gravel beneath his shoes is somewhat therapeutic.
"You're exaggerating-"
"I did a reply all," Yuuri whispers between clenched teeth. "You know that screw up they have office memes about? Yeah, I did that. I sent a personal reply to everyone in our department and higher. It was mortifying. For me and for her!" Her face, pinched and drenched in hatred, sits at the forefront of Yuuri's thoughts, and he wonders if there's some sort of apology letter he's supposed to write. Should I send flowers? With a card that says something like: My condolences for the loss of your dignity? Yuuri can feel his own face pinching. "How could I have committed such a moronic sin?"
"The real question is: why did she have her assistant compose and send a personal reply?"
"I always do."
"And you talk like it's normal."
Yuuri stares down at his tie, all rumpled and speckled with dirt. It's the black and blue pinstripe one that Yuuko gave him at his promotion party. Yuuri feels a hint of regret, but he also feels liberated. He doesn't have a job anymore. He doesn't need a tie. Hell, he doesn't even need these horrid work shoes his dragon boss lady bought for him. Yuuri feels something stirring in his breast. He decides to listen to it as he kicks off his shoes. He doesn't even need to unlace them. They never fit right, always cramped his toes like he was a child trying on his mother's heels.
Yuuri picks them up, considers them, feels the weight in his hands as if they're rocks about to be skipped across a lake. With a huff of breath, Yuuri chucks them over the barrier at the edge of the rooftop. He throws them one at a time. They cross over the sky like shooting stars, a wish being made and coming true.
Yuuri smiles. He feels like he's screaming. He feels like he's laughing.
He feels free.
"Yuuri?"
Phichit's voice breaks through the euphoria. Yuuri thinks about the shoes. The trajectory. The arc of their descent. Their landing. What if they land in the street and cause an accident? What if one flies through a window? Yuuri's guts tumble inside of him.
Can you kill someone with a shoe?
Yuuri's throat closes and he swears that he's choking on his stomach or his heart or maybe both. Sweat slips down his spine. He peeks over the edge.
"OhmygodOhmygod." Yuuri ducks down, squatting. He hides below the concrete barrier, squeezing his eyes shut. "I just hit someone with my shoe," Yuuri whisper-screeches into the phone, as if the people four stories below could possibly hear him.
There's a muffled sputter before Phichit yells, "What were you doing with your shoe? Are you drunk?"
Yuuri shushes him, "I threw it and-" Yuuri counts to ten. It doesn't help, so he counts to ten again and shoots up, staring over the edge and waving with a frantic arm. "I am so sorry! Just! Wait right there! I-!" Yuuri holds up a finger before he bolts for the roof access door, barely flinching at the feeling of gravel spiking through his socked feet. "This is beyond mortifying," Yuuri mutters, scrambling and scurrying down the flights of stairs. He misses a few steps, slamming against a wall before he keeps going.
"Bet you didn't think you could say that so much in one day."
"I hit a guy walking his dog."
"Is he hot?"
Yuuri falters mid step, doesn't give in to the urge to laugh in exasperation because this is not funny. "I'm on a roof. I can't see anything but gray hair."
"Wow. You hit an old man. You really are a terrible person."
Why was he still on the phone again? "Bye, Phichit."
By the time he makes it down, Yuuri still hasn't formulated a plan. He has no idea what to say, how to apologize. All he knows is that he really must have ticked off karma by now. Yuuri races across the street, wheezing and huffing and he thinks that he probably looks insane. Or homeless, in nothing but socks and a disheveled suit and oh, right, he left his tie up on the roof. He might as well be a mental patient as his raggedy ass nearly keels over, puffing out half words as he bends and holds his knees.
"I am… so very sorry, sir." Yuuri blinks against his exhaustion and begins to straighten up. "I didn't mean to hit anyone. I just- This- It's been a really long day. Is there anything-" Yuuri starts, then looks up and hears his heartbeat stutter alongside his words, "-I can… do… to make up… for it…?"
Definitely not an old man.
"…your heart," the man says, voice a little distant and he looks as bewildered and shocked as Yuuri feels.
Yuuri draws in one, very long, fortifying breath, "Pardon?" he asks, peeling his eyes from this man's gorgeous features to see his shoe in the palm of the man's hand.
"You can give me your heart," the man says, staring at Yuuri with such unmuted interest and fascination.
Yuuri wonders if he is actually the sane one here. "That's what I thought you-" He doesn't get to finish as he's bowled over by the dog tethered to this man's hand. The dog pounces on him, peppering his face with nose nudges and slobbering his cheeks with its tongue.
"Makka!" But there's no anger in the man's voice, just notes of amusement. "Sorry, she's very forward with her affection." Makkachin sits obediently at her human's side, panting with her lips peeled back in a dog-smile. Yuuri pushes himself up to his elbows, now awkwardly sprawled between the street and the sidewalk. "I have no idea where she gets it. This is Makkachin. I'm Viktor," the man says. Then he's reaching a hand out and Yuuri feels his heart being whisked back into his throat. "And you are?"
Yuuri stares as he grasps the offered hand and is yanked effortlessly off of the ground. He stumbles as he gets to his feet. He trips. Falls.
Right into Viktor's chest.
Of course.
"This is so mortifying," Yuuri murmurs, hearing Phichit cackling in his ear even though he's long since ended the call.
"What did you say?" Viktor asks with a tilt of the head, his smile vibrant and blinding and damn, is this man handsome.
Yuuri stomps down on his hormones, righting his glasses. "Yuuri. I said my name is Yuuri."
"Yuuri," Viktor says back, slowly and carefully, forming every consonant and vowel and syllable with those lips and Yuuri tells himself that it doesn't make him weak in the knees. Yuuri's knees remain unconvinced. "Okay, Yuuri," and because the night wants to prove to Yuuri that it can get weirder, Viktor gets down on his knee and brings the shoe up backwards in his hands.
Like he's holding it out for Yuuri.
Or something stupid like that.
"Um…?" Yuuri remains a statue. Looking everywhere but at Viktor.
"If the shoe fits, we're meant to be."
Yuuri, to his credit, doesn't burst out laughing. He hides it behind a hand. Because Viktor can't be serious. "I think we missed a few of the Cinderella plot points."
His radiant, princely smile quirks into a smirk, and Yuuri realizes that yes, Viktor is totally serious. "Yes, well," Viktor says, rubbing a shine into the front of Yuuri's shoe with his coat sleeve before brandishing it again, "it probably would have been a crime against the state if Cinderella had thwacked Prince Charming with her slipper."
"Plot twist: Cinderella is actually a terrible terrorist."
Viktor snorts, but insists on keeping his arms out until Yuuri gives in, slipping his foot back into his shoe. "Fits," Viktor announces as if trumpets will ring out and kingdoms will celebrate.
Yuuri rolls his eyes. "Shocker. I'm not convinced this is a fate thing."
Viktor gets back to his feet, dusts off his pants. "How about an apology thing?
"Huh?"
"You just assaulted my person with a shoe," Viktor parries, pointing at the evidence now stuck on Yuuri's foot, "I think you at least owe me one date."
Yuuri bites his lip. "Just one?"
"Or a thousand?" Viktor asks, sounding hopeful and adorable and if he does that sparkle thing with his eyes again, Yuuri thinks he just might say yes. "Just one," he corrects, "But that doesn't mean that there can't be more afterwards. Or that the date can't last until morning." Viktor walks a little closer, bends until his nose tickles the rumpled hair around Yuuri's ear. "Until you can't get enough of me," he whispers, leaving butterfly flutters beneath Yuuri's skin.
Yuuri's face erupts, and he's sure he's some kind of Crayola brand red. But Yuuri listens to the palpitations of his heart, to the dog that comes up and licks the curl of his fingers. "Do I look like a first date kind of man?"
Viktor's smile brightens. "You look like an every day, for the rest of my life, kind of man."
They decide on a time and place to have their date, but Yuuri seems to strike Viktor right in the heart as he says, "But wouldn't this make for the best first date story with the grandchildren?" He's mostly joking, but Viktor clings right at his side, holds his hand and helps him look for his other wayward 'slipper.'
"You are a dog person, right?" Viktor asks as he's checking under a parked station wagon nearby.
"Yes?" Yuuri affirms, popping his head out from around the corner with a questioning brow.
"Thank god." Then he asks, "How do you feel about cats?"
"Spawns of Satan."
"Yes."
They give up the search as the sun begins to burn its awakening into the clouds. Yuuri is dead on his feet, enough so that the elation doesn't fully hit him as he and Viktor trade numbers. Viktor insists that they take a picture together before they part. He puts his arm around Yuuri, drawing him close enough that Yuuri can smell his aftershave and he tries not to swoon in front of the camera. He thinks he manages a frazzled smile.
Yuuri sends Phichit the picture in the morning.
He answers with a random tweet that no one but Yuuri will understand.
He was hot.