I don't own Yuri! on Ice.

Chapter 25: #RoyalFlush

(In which seven figure skaters, two Japanese tourists, and one like ninety-pound girlfriend walk into a bar. How many will walk back out?)

At the bar they finally selected for dinner (for some reason, Spain and Barcelona especially seemed to have one on every corner), who should Viktor and Yuurika run into but Yuri and the Kazakh representative, Otabek Altin, appearing just as nonplussed as they at the sudden reunion.

"Hey, Yuri! Did you find that cat cafe?" Viktor greeted loudly.

Yuri hissed.

"Oh, is that where you were headed?" asked Otabek, no twitch of his stolid face betraying amusement.

"There was an … incident," Yuri explained reluctantly. "We ended up sight-seeing, then came here for dinner."

"Same!"

"... And remember, you don't have to order a cerveza to get free tapas," Minako informed Mari as they walked in the door.

"Ah!"

The six blinked at each other, all astonishment at the coincidence.

"Well, shall we sit?" Viktor prompted, not one to deny fate.

The group trooped towards a corner table.

"I'll be right back, I need to visit the washroom," Yuurika excused herself.

"We'll go with you," said Mari companionably, rising from the table with Minako.

"Sure, thanks." Yuurika took a few steps towards the women's facilities, then paused. "...but separately, since I'm going to the MEN's washroom."

The other two, as the magnitude of what they had just done finally descended upon them, turned as one to stare at Otabek in trepidation.

"Oh, I know Katsuki's a girl," said Otabek.

"You do?" Yuri verified, voice low in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Since when?" Viktor queried sharply.

"Since I've ever heard of her, I think. I mean, it's obvious. She's just… clearly female," Otabek said, frowning in discomfort.

"And you just… did nothing?" Yuri clarified.

"I thought it was some Japanese tradition, since no one else was saying anything. So I did some research." Otabek turned to face Yuri, concern written across every line. "No one has approached you claiming to be your long-lost little sister or forgotten childhood friend while running with toast in their mouth, or stalked you while calling you sempai, or stolen your underwear or anything, right, Yuri?"

"Of course not," Yuri scoffed loudly. "The only ones who've bothered me in Japan are these idiots here and those crazy quadruplets -"

"Triplets," Minako corrected.

"And Mari does all the laundry." Yuri abruptly cut off as he remembered something. "Wait, my missing lucky boxers…" He turned to face Yuurika with wide, betrayed eyes.

"Remember, this is my elder sister, who is right here by the way, that you're accusing of stealing prepubescent boys' underpants," Yuurika deadpanned.

Mari waved. "Hi!" There were actually a lot of things she did, as the daughter at a ryokan, besides cooking and cleaning (already a full-time job in themselves) that haven't come up - such as advertising, manning the phones, registering guests, translating, guiding, keeping the account books, among a myriad of others. Which was a lot more than Yuurika had to keep up with (And yes, she did feel badly about that, thank you for asking). It was also probably why Mari forgot to do particular small tasks occasionally. Not that anybody noticed. And of course, as Yuurika had just mentioned, none of her chores included pilfering pantaloons from prepubescents.

"Prepubescent!? I'll show you prepubescent!"

"My bad," Yuurika claimed blandly.

Otabek gulped, sweating profusely and inclining his head to Mari in apology. "Sorry!"

"Don't be such a wuss. You're a head taller than her. Emphasis on the 'her'," misogynistic Yuri reprimanded his new friend.

"Don't underestimate Japanese girls. She probably was nationally ranked in kendo or sumo in primary school," Otabek warned.

"We both took ballet," Mari interjected.

"From me!" Minako swooped in, face aglow.

"And really, girls competing in sumo? Please, try to even picture that," Yuurika reasoned.

The two boys complied. Their faces stilled, mouths taut in a grim line. Whatever they imagined, it couldn't have been pretty.

Meanwhile in Hasetsu's Yuutopia, a venerable repeat-guest grandma held to the light a beautifully laundered pair of leopard print boxers that had been mixed in with her unmentionables for inspection. No, not her husband's and obviously not hers. "Not again," she sighed.

Back in the bar at Barcelona, the three ladies finally took their leave to visit the women's washroom.

"I'm just surprised this same thing hasn't happened before," Otabek observed.

Viktor propped his chin up, (rudely) resting his elbows on the table. "She said she's always been very careful at competitions."

Yuri scoffed. "Yeah, careful."

Otabek looked at them curiously but said nothing.

"She's had to take a lot of precautions for a long time to keep this secret," Viktor confided. "I trust she's got it well under control, with all the effort she's put in." And if he sometimes harboured doubts about that - well, no one needed to know, especially Yuurika. Not after Beijing. "And really, there's only so much bad luck that can happen to one person, even Yuuri," he concluded, laughing.

Maybe that was true, maybe not. If so, she must have been named Murphy in a past life. Either way, Viktor would kick himself later for his inadvertent flag-planting.

Because, just at the moment, who among the million within Barcelona should walk in that bar among hundreds of bars, but the rest of the Grand Prix international representatives (along with the Canadian self-proclaimed king of skating JJ Leroy's permanently attached plus-one).

"Hey, everybody!" Phichit waved sunnily.

"Hello!" Viktor called back.

"Fancy meeting you lot here," the seasoned Swiss representative Christophe Giacometti said liltingly, unknowingly stealing Minako's chair.

"You've all met my fine girlfriend, Isabella?" said JJ presenting the demure smiling beauty at his side proudly.

"Yes," answered Yuri bluntly. "She's always stuck to you, like lichen."

"Yuri, don't be rude," reproved Viktor.

Yuri kicked him under the table.

"It's nice to see you again," Otabek greeted her politely, covering for his recalcitrant friend.

"So, what are you having?" Phichit asked, grabbing a menu.

"We were just leaving," Yuri announced.

"What?" Christophe asked, understandably confused.

"They, uh, don't speak English here, and we're terrible at Spanish," Otabek lied.

A waitress swept by, leaving glasses face down in front of the skaters, and promised in passable English to return for their orders shortly.

"He means they don't accept cards here, and we didn't bring cash in Euros," Yuri supplied, elbowing his solidly built new friend (His elbow protested that course of action immediately).

"Yes they do," JJ contradicted, pointing out the clearly written English lines at the bottom of the menu. Isabella nodded in agreement.

"What's up with you two?" Viktor leaned over the table to whisper furiously.

"Idiot," Yuri growled at him, refusing to elaborate.

"I resent that, especially if you don't tell me why I deserve it," Viktor retorted coldly.

Otabek swiveled his head slightly towards the highly visible door off the side, labeled "MUJER" in bold capital letters, and adorned explicitly with a stick figure in a full skirt.

Viktor paled, no longer arguing with Yuri's appellation for him.

"Is your party ready to order?" the nice waitress asked, pen at the ready.

"Yes, I think we're all here," JJ replied.

"Wait, where's Yuuri?" Phichit recollected suddenly.

Viktor surreptitiously glanced towards the facilities.

Phichit startled, eyes widening. "Guys, maybe we should try somewhere else," he suggested, wringing his hands unconsciously.

Christophe glared at him. "Not you too."

"Well," Phichit replied dithering, reaching for his phone. "Have you read the reviews?"

"I resent that insinuation," the waitress objected.

Yuurika and her two escorts chose that moment to exit, chatting and laughing, from the ladies' room. They walked carelessly to the table to a dead silent table, all eyes upon with with varying degrees of dread, sympathy, and 404 errors.

"Hey guys, what a coincidence!" Yuurika trailed off, disturbed by the odd reception.

"Oh my goodness, it's Yuuri Katthuki!" the waitress gasped. That bewitching Castilian lisp was strong in this one - she must have moved from elsewhere in Spain.

"Yes, I think so?"

"And all the world finalists!" the woman continued gushing. "It's like the dream team assembled!"

Minako clasped the waitress' hands in her own. "I know the feel, sister."

"All the male ice skating creme-de-la-creme, right here at this bar!" The Spanish fangirl turned slowly. "But, Yuuri just came from the women's restroom. What were you doing in there?"

"Powdering my nose," Yuurika snapped reflexively.

"That's not what she means," Mari told her in low voice. "I don't think a euphemism is going to get you out of this one."

Yuurika glanced over the still faces arranged about the table, suddenly recollecting the past quarter hour (In her defense, it's easy to feel temporarily disconnected from the outside world in the sanctuary of the ladies' room). The permanent damage from her momentary lapse slapped her full force.

"Yabai."

A/N: What 'incident' is Yuri referring to that led him to him and Otabek walking into a Barcelona bar together? If you want to know, check out the story Hashtag Y So Extra and the chapter #Joyride.