The Bathroom™
Junior World Figure Skating Championships
Palace of Culture and Sports
Ostrava, Czech Republic
For so long, Yuuri had thought about what his first meeting with Viktor would be like, to the point where he had found himself daydreaming their meetings, like some sort of sordid fantasy.
Would he have to wait until his senior debut, a hurried moment in between the hyperactivity of competition to be able to steal a minute from his husband? Would they meet each other's eyes from across the rink during practice, a burning desire and love that transcends time, out in the open?
Or would Viktor take one look at him, a lowly Junior skater, and decide he was not worth his time?
Evidently, he was wrong on all accounts.
He was so wrong.
Perhaps it was a side-effect of his anxiety-ridden self, but Yuuri thrived in situations where was in control. Being thrown back in time against his own desires had left him rattled, and finally, he could say that he was able to walk on his own two feet again without feeling like the ground was turning into quick-sand.
There is no way he should be here. In no timeline should he be at the Junior World Championships in Ostrava when he was two weeks away from fucking Worlds.
And yet, the hyper-real grip he has on controlling every aspect of his life changes in the face of this, because Yuuri knows those eyes. He knows that voice .
The drawl of vowels, the tilting sound of birds, the tone, full of life and joy and beauty - Yuuri would recognise this person in a heartbeat.
"Ugh, get out of my head, Katsuki!"
Right there, with his hands clasped against his face, looking as if he wanted the world to swallow him up, was Viktor Nikiforov.
Yuuri stammers. "I- I'm sorry?"
Viktor wheezes, head snapping up. He stares at him, eyes wide and beautiful and shy, and Yuuri cannot help but take another step, any step to be closer to him.
"Hi." Yuuri whispers out.
"Hi." He says back. "I- I have your hoodie."
"..."
"..."
Yuuri gapes. "My what?"
Viktor flushes a brighter red, mortified. "Erm, your hoodie. In Beijing?" He motions towards the black hoodie slung across his arms, and Yuuri feels the little pride he had left fly out on shoes of Hermes, galavanting off into the sunset.
Hoodie . Yuuri closes his eyes, the word forming indents into his brain. Beijing .
Hoodie. Beijing. Hoodie. Beijin- FUCK.
"We- We met in Beijing?" He stammers out.
If possible, Viktor's face turns even more red. "Yes, we- Fuck." He gasps out, eyes alarmed as his head swings towards the door. "Someone's coming. Shit, I'm gonna get caught. That was the one thing Yakov told me to do - not get caught, and I get caught by you of all people-"
The horrified look across Viktor's face almost sends Yuuri into paralytic shock. Yuuri cannot understand the perplexity of emotion rushing through his body. He's overjoyed at the look Viktor sends his way - the terror of his wide eyes, the dread of realising he wasn't alone, the sheen of red travelling up his neck and covering the tips of his ears - Yuuri was splitting at the seams.
It was the exact look when Yuuri caught him sneaking Makka treats even though she had diabetes.
It was the same look when he had found his husband and Yura, drunken into a stupor, trying to tie all of his Olympic gold medals around Makkachin's head, declaring her a 'Champion of the Ages'.
It was the same look on his face when he had caught him at three am, the kitchen on fire and his entire body covered in flour after attempting to make pancakes because he had a 'craving'.
It was so Viktor .
Ever since he had defied all laws of logic and science, there had been a shadow pressing against Yuuri's chest, burning it's mark into his heart. He would not have recognised it, if not for this exact moment. Like Atlas, lifting the world upon his shoulders, relief did not come sweet when he unburdered himself. The aftermath was just as painful.
Before this very moment, as Yuuri took in the sight of his love, his other half , he had been choking, lungs constricting with air, fighting for every breath - and then suddenly, oxygen was being slammed in.
Now, he could breathe, but at what cost?
They were the same. His Viktor. This Viktor. They were all the same person . The mannerisms, the gait of his body, the shape of his soul.
They were the same.
Yuuri moves before the air in his lungs can escape with his breath. His hand curls around Viktor's wrist, and the other moves to push firmly against his chest, until the two of them are pressed tightly into a small cubicle.
Viktor's eyes are squeezed shut, and all Yuuri can do is take in his love's face. How cruel it is of the world, to allow Yuuri only a part of this Viktor, when he so clearly needs more to live? How cruel, for Yuuri to only have these few seconds to trace the lines of his husband's face and sear it into his memory.
Viktor is so very young, and it is a sight Yuuri is unaccustomed to. His jaw, whilst an echo of the Michaelangelo-like beauty of his future, pulls in direct contrast to the roundness of his cheeks, bunched up above his cheekbones - a deadly weapon lying in wake if he so much as smiled.
A deadly weapon , Yuuri repeats to himself, when Viktor's eyes blinked open.
There is little for Yuuri to say about Viktor's eyes. Perhaps, if he loved them less, he would be able to talk about them more.
Instead, they rendered him speechless .
Their noses almost touch, and the soft gasp that leaves Viktor's mouth is loud enough for Yuuri to raise his hand quickly to cover the other man's lips, else they alert the other occupant of their… interesting positions.
"What are you doing?" Viktor's voice is muffled through his hand. Yuuri raises an eyebrow. Viktor's eyes are so wide and childlike, he cannot help but be endeared, a soft breath escaping him.
"What?" He leans closer to Viktor's ear, whispering low. "You said you can't get caught."
Yuuri freezes as Viktor's body shakes beneath his hold. He grips his fingers on his wrist tighter, turning his face so that he can feel the warmth of Viktor's breath on his forehead.
He's blushing . Yuuri realises, lips twisting.
The bathroom stall next to them flushes loudly, echoing through the stalls of the bathroom. He can feel Viktor's body begin to lax as footsteps start to leave. The slam of the door is enough for Yuuri to take a step back.
Viktor's eyes follow his every move, until suddenly, he gags. "Wait, did they not wash their fucking hands?"
Yuuri snorts, biting the sudden onslaught of laughter that trembles within his body. What was he ever worried about? Of course, his Viktor was always like this. He's the same. He's always going to be the same.
His mind takes a turn, remembering the military assault Viktor had commenced when they had first met. Fuck, he had been naked in the onsen, and looking back, Yuuri can't believe how stupid he had been to not think that Viktor was flirting with him. Even he agrees it was not his most brightest moment.
Well, they wouldn't be husbands if Yuuri didn't give as good as he got, now would they?
Perhaps, Viktor needed a little taste of his own medicine. Lifting his chin up slightly so that his eyes could meet Viktor's, his voice comes out low. "Oh my god, this is not how I expected to meet you, Mr. Nikiforov."
"We- we've met before though."
Yuuri stills. "W-what?"
"At the banquet."
Yuuri is sure his eyes roll to the back of his head. The banquet. The fucking banquet. What the fu-
"Remember?" Viktor sounds earnestly sincere, a blush painting over his nose, and it causes Yuuri's mind to go reeling. "I know it was pretty embarrassing of me, but we-"
Fuck. Yuuri pales. What did he do ? He remembers the banquet with clear sight. What he doesn't remember was after , escaping with his friends and getting so plastered, he's grateful for this young body's ability to rebound from almost getting alcohol poisoning (he can still taste that jager bomb Christophe had shoved down his throat).
But not once did he remember going up to Viktor during the banquet. He had made it back to his hotel room, waking up to Christophe's feet in front of his face, and Minako half sliding out of her bed, moments away from throwing up on the carpet.
It is like something claws up through his veins. There's no way history repeated itself. Did he really- "I'm so sorry." he stammers out. "I- I don't remember a thing from the banquet-"
"OI! VIKTOR!"
The two visibly jump at the sound, their souls leaving their body. It's a child's voice booming against the tiled walls of the bathroom, squeaking out with murderous intent. "I know you're in here. Get the fuck out, you dipshit-"
"Shit." Viktor's eyes widen in distress. Yuuri inhales sharply as Viktor's head drops down into his neck. It's warm and soft, and he can feel the heat of Viktor's breath against his skin. He tightens his hold on him. "Yuri will blow my cover. Ugh, I never should have left him alone."
He had not recognised the voice, it was far too young and high pitched for him to have connected the two people together. Now, all he can think of is his own stupidity - there was only ever one person in the world who would dare to speak to Viktor in such a way. How did he forget?
" Yuri ." He cannot help but whisper the name, eyes widening.
"I know it's confusing." Yuuri frowns as Viktor whispers under his breath. "He has the same name as you. He's a kid from my rink, completely obsessed with you, by the way, but aren't we all-"
Aren't we all? Wait, is- what? Did- how does Viktor even know who he is?
"VIKTOR! What are you, constipated?! Hurry the fuck up or I'm telling Yakov you abandoned me-"
"Fuck." Viktor cries softly. "What do I do-"
Yuuri feels his heart stutter.
"Want me to distract him so you can escape?" Something slips out in Yuuri's voice, an emotion of some kind, perhaps it was hope, maybe even shock. He had prepared himself to wait years before seeing the child again, but for him to be standing right outside, it made Yuuri's hands tremble.
"But- I want to give you your hoodie back."
"Hmm." Yuuri purses his lips, before huffing out a smile. Well, at least that solves where it went. "You know, that's my favourite hoodie. I've been looking all over for it for months."
If possible, Viktor blushes even deeper. "I can give it to you now?" He raises his arm slightly, where Yuuri finally recognises his hoodie slung softly across Viktor's arm. He had been far too focused on Viktor himself to even recognise it.
"I'm holding it now." He says, as if Yuuri could not see it for himself. How adorable.
Yuuri takes a step back, mouth twisting with bitten-back laughter. "How about tomorrow? At eight?"
"Eight?" Viktor squeaks.
"I've got practice at nine, so breakfast at Bienvenue? It's a French cafe near my hotel, you'll like it."
"Bienvenue? I- for what?"
"What else? So you can give me back my hoodie."
Viktor looks down at his hand that's currently gripping his hoodie. He looks up at him again, mouth dropping open.
God, was this how young Viktor acted like when he was getting flirted with? Yuuri could get used to his husband now acting like a blushing bride. Maybe travelling back in time was worth it.
"You're being real difficult, Nikforov." He laughs out. Leaning across, he presses the toilet's flush so that it echoes loudly between them. "Wait until you hear myself and the other Yuri leave. Don't forget."
Yuuri twists the bathroom stall open. He doesn't know what to expect. To him, Yuri Plisetsky had spawned fully-grown as an angst-ridden, screamo-loving teenager since birth.
So, when he steps out into the empty bathroom, it's like being suckerpunched in the chest.
Hip-height.
Yuri is hip-height , with blond hair cut harshly into an atrocious bowl-cut fringe, and cheeks so big they look like he's hiding marshmallows inside them. Yuuri's heart just about bursts.
Yuri Plisetsky is cute.
Yuri Plisetsky is so fucking cute .
( "Why do you keep rereading Emma?" Viktor's voice is petulant like a child, as he burrows himself into Yuuri's side on the couch, stealing his husband's blanket and heat.
"You're the one who forced me to read Austen. You can't be mad just because our favourites don't match."
"Well, I thought you'd have better taste. Of course Pride and Prejudice is superior-."
"That's because you're a sucker for enemies to lovers." Yuuri rolls his eyes. "Knightley's nice."
"He's booooring."
"I cannot make speeches, my dear Emma." Yuuri drops the book into his lap. He turns, pushing his body until he is pressed up against his husband's side. Their lips barely touch, but every movement of the vowels that fall from Yuuri's lips touch upon his husband's lips, like a chaste caress but never a kiss. "But- if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."
Viktor flushes. "You are a cruel man to your husband, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov."
"Perhaps my husband would do so well as to inform me of my… misgivings?"
His booming laughter is swallowed by Viktor's sweeping kiss.)
Viktor
Okay, so remember that guy I told you about?
sent
Christophe
Hoodie boy?
received
Viktor
Yes, him. So, good news - he didn't actually mean to ghost me.
sent
Viktor
Bad news - he doesn't remember ever having met me.
sent
Christophe
Oh fuck.
received
Viktor
Yeah, so there I was, moments away from drowning myself with my tears, when he asks me to meet for coffee tomorrow morning.
sent
Christophe
Wait, what
received
Viktor
At a coffee shop. I- tell me if this is just my gifted child social anxiety, but did he ask me out on a date?
sent
Christophe
VIKTOR! YES! HE 100% ASKED YOU OUT ON A DATE!
received
Viktor
YEAH BUT HE DOESN'T REMEMBER ME! HE HAS SHIT TO DO TOMORROW, 8AM IS THE ONLY TIME HE'S FREE FOR ME TO GIVE HIM HIS HOODIE.
sent
Christophe
DID YOU TELL HIM YOU COULD GIVE IT HIM THEN AND THERE?
received
Viktor
I HAD IT IN MY HAND.
sent
Christophe
WAIT
received
Christophe
YOU HAD THE HOODIE IN YOUR HAND?!
received
Viktor
YES. HE TOLD ME TO GIVE IT HIM TOMORROW OVER COFFEE.
sent
Christophe
SO YOU HAD IT IN YOUR HAND AND HE SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU TO GIVE IT HIM TOMORROW, OVER COFFEE?
received
Christophe
THEN IT'S A FUCKING DATE, YOU STUPID BITCH.
received
Viktor
But what if he doesn't like me
sent
Christophe
I'm going to fucking MURDER you.
received
If everything was right in the world, Yuri Plisetsky would not have been forced to babysit an adult when he himself was only ten years old. Evidently, the world was a fucking mess, and so Yuri had spent the last ten minutes trying to find where Viktor had run off to.
If it was up to him, Viktor should've been left to fend for the wolves, but then Yakov had looked as if he was moment away from an aneurysm with every desperate shake of his balding head, and Yuuri knew that it was up to him to save Yakov from an impending heart attack.
After all, he had paid for Yuri's time at Worlds. In his eyes, Yakov could do no wrong.
Katsuki had been everything he had expected and more. As much as it pained Yuri to say it, Viktor was right. Seeing Katsuki in person was completely different from watching him on a screen.
It was the speed that blinded Yuri.
Videos never really encapsulated the sheer energy that Katsuki exudes on the ice; Yuri did not even know it was possible to control that much speed, and yet, Katsuki could make it from one side of the rink to the other in under five crossovers. It was complete insanity.
If only Yuri could pick apart Katsuki's brain, but Yakov had made it clear that he should stay away from Katsuki at all costs. Yuri understood why - after all, he did not have the best track record with skaters that were older than him.
Sadly, the only senior skater that he seemed to get along with was Viktor. Born and raised in Moscow, Yuri had first thought that entering a skating rink in the capital would be easy for him - he would be closer to Dedushka, closer to home.
Of course, the other skaters at his rink didn't see it like that.
Yuri, a natural-born talent, flourished under real lessons. Soon, he was ahead of the pack. Seniority meant nothing to him, and if he was seen as a problem child, well, so be it. His skating spoke for itself.
And that's when the trouble started.
Yuri was never one to walk away from a fight, but after one too many incidents of his skates being ruined or his locker being filled with mice and dog shit, he knew he could not stay. Not when it took Dedushka four weeks of work just to be able to buy him one pair of skating shoes.
Meeting Yakov had been a blessing in disguise. No longer did Dedushka have to worry about supporting him - now, he could do it himself. Sports Champions was better than any of the Moscow clubs combined. It meant that Yuri had potential, it meant all the training was worth it.
He had walked into the rink the next day, shoulders raised towards the heavens and a smug smirk wickedly stretched across his face. His bullies didn't even have a chance to apologise - he had dragged the ringleader by his hair and whispered delicately into his ear that he would ruin them if he ever saw their faces again.
He wasn't wrong either. Soon, the news had broken out that he was Yakov's new protege , and nobody even dared to breathe in his direction.
His short time in Moscow had taught Yuri everything he needed to know about the circuit. Senior skaters were not receptive to new blood. The only reason he can think of for Viktor being okay with him was because the two of them were in the same boat - so far ahead of the pack, there was no need for competition. Yuri assumes he too would have acted the same, if he wasn't already better than everyone else.
SCC showed him that everything he thought he knew about skating was a lie, now part of one of the main machines that churned out champions left, right and centre, Yuri could pinpoint the exact moment his facade with figure skating started to crumble.
The interviews of senior skaters, ones that often endeared them to the public and fans alike, were painstakingly scripted in order to ensure maximum support. Images were created for these athletes, fake relationships and friendships were a daily business, even if said skaters were minutes away from murdering each other out on the ice.
The interviews showed them as athletes of humility and discipline. For Yuri, who saw these athletes day in and day out, there was no grace or elegance to be found in reality.
It was all lies .
He hadn't understood fully until he first saw Viktor at the rink, talking to some of the other novice skaters. The look of awe, the immense adulation sent his way was almost dizzying, only for Viktor to then be, well, Viktor .
Yuri would not even admit to himself that he too had been in the same boat as the other novices. Sure, when he first came to Yakov's camp, he had thought, like everyone else in the world, that Viktor was cool . And then, well, the older skater opened his mouth.
Viktor was not a nice person.
He was calculative and cold. He would pick at your deepest scab until it bled like a wound under the guise of 'constructive criticism', and you would be left there, pressing down to stop the bleeding.
He was the hardest person to please, and Yuri, young, impressionable Yuri, had taken one look at his peers crying and decided he would never but on a pretence.
Yuri did not hide his animosity; what you saw is what you got.
Viktor, Viktor was the snake in the flower bed.
Viktor had not been the first senior athlete to prove this to him. On the contrary, despite all of Viktor's failings, at least he was sincere in his criticism.
But it was all about the image to Yuri - the reputation that the skater had garnered in his mind. Play nice with the press, and you'll do well. Smile like Viktor, sponsors eat it up. They all played nice but were monsters underneath.
Katsuki was different. Katsuki didn't give a shit.
He would skip interviews if he wasn't feeling it, he would refuse to make niceties to skaters that were rude. He was real.
Even so, Yuri's mind flashes back to all of the media training he had done. He decides to heed Yakov's warnings.
It had taken only an afternoon for the image of Russia's Legend to be shattered into pieces. Viktor was the best blaring siren Yakov could ever use to warn Yuri of the dangers of older figure skating athletes.
It was a competition at the end of the day, cut-throat and murderous.
Yuri could never allow his image of Katsuki to be broken. For his small semblance of peace, he decided to agree with Yakov for once and stay far away. He's scared that his heart would not handle it well.
But just like how things run in the universe, when an immovable object is hit by an unstoppable force, there is little Yuri can do to stop the collision from happening. A meeting for the ages, perhaps, if not for the fact that they were in a backdrop of flushing toilets and shitty indoor plumbing.
"You!" His mouth is screaming before he can stop himself, finger pointed directly at the figure that had left the bathroom stall. "Yo- your Katsuki."
Already, Yuri's image of Katsuki is crumbling to his feet. There was nothing of the elegant Ice Prince, nothing but a boy only a few years older than Yuri himself, glasses pushed high upon his nose bridge. A fierce anger paralyses his body, like someone was pouring gasoline over his fiery wrath and made it burn through his veins - it hurt .
Katsuki just looks at him, wide eyed as if he had not just ruined all of Yuri's plans, hopes and dreams.
"Yes?" He frowns. "That is my name."
Yuri inhales sharply. "I know your name!" His brain catches up with his mouth, and English evades all of his senses. Finally, as if a dam had been broken, Yuri starts to sprout his mind in a torrential wave of Russian curses. "You. Just wait until I make it to Juniors. I'll take back all those records you broke, idiot!"
It is only when silence lapses between the two of them that Yuri realises what he has done.
He gapes, eyes shot wide. Well, there was no way Katsuki was going to think he was sane now . God, what kind of person starts shouting at their idol in a language he doesn't even know-
"I look forward to it."
If possible, Yuri's jaw unhinges even lower.
"You- your speaking Russian."
"Yes." Katsuki fucking laughs , and moves towards the sink to wash his hands. He looks up at Yuri, meeting his gaze through the mirror. "I have a little experience. It's not that good, but it's enough for conversation."
"What- what do you mean you're looking forward to it?"
Katsuki frowns like he doesn't understand, drying his hands. "Exactly what I said."
"No!" Yuri winces at the volume of his voice. "Everyone always says that, but they don't mean it."
"Yuri Plisetsky, aged 10. A new novice skater under Coach Feltsman, geared to be the next big thing in Russia. You have a mean triple lutz, by the way. The height is insane"
"What the fuck."
Katsuki crosses his arms in front of him, but Yuri can see the twitching of his lips. "I'm being serious. I'm actually looking forward to you competing. You're really good."
"Y- You know my name." Yuri whimpers. "How do you know my name?"
"SCC's channel, on YouTube? They uploaded that video of you a few weeks ago. Like I said, your triple lutz is insane, but you could work better on your triple flip-"
"Why are you giving me advice? Why are you talking to me in Russian? WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Yuri breaks down, cheeks flooding with redness.
"Is that not what we're doing?" Katsuki leans against the bathroom counter, raising an eyebrow. "We're both skaters, seems like it'll be easy to talk about skating first. Unless you want to talk about, I don't know, cats?"
"Cats are the best, but we're not moving on from skating!"
Katsuki snorts, before motioning towards the door. "Come on then, I have some snacks in my waiting room. Have you eaten yet, it's almost three-"
"I-'' Yuri opens his mouth to argue, before his stomach rumbles loudly. "I- yes. Please."
"So, who were you looking for earlier?"
Yuri chokes on his strawberry milk, coughing loudly. "Looking for who? I don't know what you're talking about."
Katsuki laughs, leaning against the coach in the waiting room. It's so cool here, the room is larger than the Russian team's. Maybe it was a perk of being the Junior World Champion, he thinks to himself. There's a mirror in front of them, along with a swivel chair. A dressing room, Yuri realises, he's in Katsuki's dressing room .
"Alright, I believe you." Katsuki opens up his duffle bag. "Do you want some more? I have some Japanese candy if you'd like to try."
Yuri's eyes narrow. "What kind?"
"Here, try this." Katsuki hands him a chocolate bar, as well as a few packets of chips.
Yuri can't read the writing, but from the pictures he gages what the flavours are. He experimentally places one inside his mouth, relishing in the explosion of flavour that hits his tongue. "Do you usually carry a lot of snacks?"
Katsuki sighs heavily. "No." He pouts. "I'm not allowed whilst competing. I gain weight like crazy, but I usually save these as a treat after comp."
And he's sharing them with me? Yuri gasps to himself. Why is he sharing such precious things with me? I'm not even a eligible skater-
"Tell me more about your training. How are you finding it?"
Yuri glowers. "You're not using me to find out about my club's secret information. I'm not telling you anything about Nikiforov-"
"I didn't ask about Nikiforov." Katsuki laughs. "I asked about you ."
"Oh." Yuri chews on his snacks, contemplating. "Well, like you said earlier, I can do a triple lutz, but my flip needs work."
Katsuki ponders for a moment. "What's the main issue? The rotation?"
"I can rotate the jump, I just can't land it."
"Well, have you checked what your edges are like?"
"Why would that be an issue-"
"Sometimes, skaters who are great lutz jumpers struggle with the flip. It's because their body is used to the hardest jump, so they need to work even harder for the flip since they're used to the outside edge rather than the inside. Why don't you ask your coach to film your take off? You can slow it down and see if there's a problem there."
"That- that's a good idea." Yuri scratches his cheek, suddenly placid.
"Okay, I gave you advice." Katsuki leans forward, smiling brightly. "Now, do me."
Yuri chokes on his chips. "WHAT?!"
"I gave you advice, now you give me some. Come on, Plisetsky - nothing's free in this world!"
"You want me to give you, the Junior World Champion, advice on skating?"
Katsuki frowns at that. "But we're both skaters."
Yuri's bag of chips falls to the ground. landing on the floor beside his shoe. We're both skaters , as if that meant they were in any way comparable.
"I can't do a triple axel," he finds himself saying. "Let alone one from a back counter. The speed of our spins can't even be compared - you do over five rotations in all of your spins when you only need to do three, I know because I've counted them, and yet they're so fast you can't even tell."
"And don't get me started on the way you match your spins to the music- every single spin hits the beat perfectly, it shouldn't even be possible! You blend every single movement on your body to the music. I can't even do a triple-triple combination." His voice takes a high turn, and red in the face, all Yuri can do is stare down Katsuki. How dare he think that the two of them were comparable. Katsuki was a better skater than Viktor.
"So, you know what you need to do next then."
Yuri stills. "There's no way I can do that."
"Well not now of course, you're still too young to even dream of doing a triple axel-"
"I'm not a kid!" He screeches.
"Stop with the glaring, you'll drill holes into my face." Katsuki laughs. "And you are a kid- your body is still growing. But I bet you'll be able to do a triple axel by the time you're thirteen and ready for juniors."
"But that's not fair-"
Katsuki leans back, smiling wickedly. "You know what's not fair? Comparing yourself to an eighteen year old skater who is ready for the senior circuit. You don't have to be perfect now, Yurio. It takes time ."
Something breaks in Yuri's mind.
It takes time. Of course, something so simple that Yuri's young mind had forgotten. Katsuki had never been this good. It had taken him almost four years to achieve it.
"I know that face."
Yuri sneers. "What face?"
Katsuki snorts, reaching out to poke one of Yuri's cheeks. "That face. You're pouting."
"But I want to be better now ."
"So do all those things you figured out already." The older boy shrugs. "To do all the things I can do, you need to condition your body for it. That means off-ice training, I do ballet but you can do other things-"
"Ballet." Yuri clenches his fist. "I already do ballet."
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. "But do you actually do it? Or do you just pretend and only work hard when your teacher is looking at you?"
Yuri averts his eye.
Katsuki reaches up to ruffle his hair. "You're so adorable. Do you have a phone? I can send you my training schedule if it's any help."
Yuri gapes. "What the fuck?" He stands up, crossing his arms and looking infuriated. "Why would you do something like that? No, don't answer me, I can already tell you are the kind of person who would fall for a pyramid scheme-"
Katsuki chokes, "How do you even know what a pyramid scheme is-"
"No, you listen to me because obviously, you'll get scammed by everyone. God, I can't believe you, of all , people need protecting. Listen, a training menu is a goddamn treasure that needs to have a thirty-man security team watching it at all cost. You don't go around sharing it with other skaters! That's literally the whole point, they'll steal all your ideas and then what will you do-"
"But you're not just anyone." Katsuki smiles at him. "We have the same name. That makes us partners. We have to stick together."
"Even-" Yuri looks down at his feet. "Even if it means that I want to beat Viktor? I know you really like him, I've read all your interviews. You've said that you started skating because of him. Your- your not using me are you?"
His voice drops into a whisper, and horrified, he can feel tears begin to well in his eyes.
"Who?"
Yuri's head snaps up.
"What?" He whispers.
"Who." Katsuki's voice is deadly. He's not asking a question. "Who did that to you? Tell me their names, now."
"Wh-" Yuri shakes his head. "No-one."
"Yuri."
He bites his lips. "Some other people at competitions."
Katsuki eyes narrow.
"And some of the skaters at the rink."
"What did they do?"
"I understand why they would- Viktor's the best so they want to be close to him-"
Katsuki closes his eyes slowly, his face stretched out in pain. "So they tried to get to Viktor by being close to you?"
Yuri's silence answers everything.
"Yuri, come here." Katsuki holds his arm lightly, pulling him so that he's standing in front of him. Katsuki is still sitting on the coach, but at this angle, Yuri is looking at him straight in the eye. They're on the same level.
"Is that why you want to be better? Why you keep talking about the triple axel and the triple flip?"
"If I get better, then they'll want to talk to me instead, right?" Yuri breathes out.
Katsuki shakes head. "You don't need to be better for people to like you, Yuri. I already do, and you met me, what ten minutes ago?"
"But-"
Katsuki tugs him closer, rubbing his arm up and down Yuri's arms. He doesn't realise it then, but he's shaking. His body starts to relax under Katsuki's warm hands.
"You are going to be a force to reckon with, Yuri Plisetsky, but to do that, you need to let your body grow . Trying to catch up with people who already have a head start is admirable, but we aren't going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. You can take your time and I will be waiting on the ice for you."
Yuri's fists clench tightly by his side. "You- you will?"
"Of course." Katsuki lets him go, sending him a smile that's so bright, Yuri flinches at being directed at it. "Even more so, let's go beat him together."
Yuri's eyes bug out of their sockets "What?"
"Nikiforov. Let's go beat him together. Us Yuris have to stick together, right?"
Yuri's head is filled with only 'Us Yuris' and 'together ' that he doesn't realise the screeching of his phone from his coat pocket. He clamers for the phone, flipping it open without checking the caller ID.
"He-hello?" His voice cracks.
"YURI PLISETSKY, WHERE ON GOD'S EARTH, ARE YOU?"
Katsuki visibly quivers at the sound of Yakov's voice screaming through the phone. "Did you not tell your coach you were with me?" He whispers out, eyes wide in fear.
Yuri bites his lip, before shaking his head. Katsuki looks like he's going to faint, and Yuri can hear the whispered fuck he lets out.
"I-I'm fine Yakov! I'm still looking for Viktor." Yes, blame it on Viktor. That's the best way to go.
Yakov audibly groans through the phone. "It's fine. I found him. Where are you? I'll pick you up myself."
"It's okay!" Yuri screams. If Yakov found out he was with his skating idol, he'd never be allowed to come to competitions again until he actually debuted. "I know where I am. It'll be easier to meet you in the waiting room."
"Okay, hurry please. God, I never should have let you go. What would Nikolai have said if I lost his child in foreign country?" Yakov mumbles on, before Yuri swiftly cuts off the phone.
"I- sorry about that. I need to go."
"Do you need me to walk you there?" Yuri is hit by the memory of Viktor watching Katsuki out on the ice, the blush that spreads across his nose, and the biting of his lips and realises then and there, he would let the world freeze over before letting Viktor come anywhere close to Katsuki.
"No, I'll be fine. It's just down the hall anyway."
Yuri thinks he sees Katsuki pout, but then he's rising off the coach, sifting through his bag again.
"Then at least take these to share with your coach." He pulls out even more snacks out of his bag, and starts to pile them into a little plastic bag. "Ooh, tell him to try the biscuits because they're low in sugar. These cookies are also really good, you'll like them."
Meiji Matcha Cream Biscuits. Hmm, Yakov doesn't really like sweet things - he doesn't know how Katsuki knows that. The Saku Saku Panda Cookies look even better, he can imagine Mila screaming about how cute they look. Maybe he can use them to bribe her into letting him sit in for the gala practice.
"Are you free tomorrow?" Katsuki hands him over the bag.
Yuri looks up at him, sighing heavily. "Yeah. My coach couldn't get us tickets for the gala, so I'm spending the day sightseeing."
"Sounds fun!"
Yuri glowers. "No it's not! I want to see Tenkyuu live but-" He feels his shoulders droop. Katsuki was amazing, and Yuri was already mourning his absence.
"Well, if you really want to, you can come with me." Katsuki says it off-handedly, like he hasn't just changed Yuri's entire world.
"What do you mean by that?"
"My family couldn't come to watch me, so the allocated seats they give all athletes for family and friends is empty. They're pretty good seats too, near the front. My coach will be there too, so you'll be with an adult."
"C-can I really go?"
Katsuki huffs out a laugh. "Of course, we're friends right?"
"Then- then I'll ask my coach and get back to you! Even if he says no, I'll sneak out!"
"Okay maybe don't sneak out." Katsuki winces. "Pass me your phone, I'll put my number in. If he says no, just call me and I'll try and convince him you'll be safe."
Yuri slams his phone into Katsuki's awaiting hand, waiting eagerly as he taps away. Something pings, and Katsuki lifts his phone up, saving Yuri's contact number as well. Holy fuck, he has Katsuki's number .
"Make sure you text me your hotel address. I'll come pick you up for practice, Yurio."
"That- that's not my name." Yuri stammers out. "You called me that before, why?"
Katsuki grins. "Well, we can't both be called Yuri, it'll be too confusing. Besides, Yurio is cool - like a superhero."
"Y-Yurio." Yuri whispers the name, testing out the vowels in his mouth. "Fine, only if I can call you by your first name then."
"Even better. Katsuki is a bit of a mouthful."
"Fine,"
"Good."
"Great." Yuri spits out, before the door slams behind him. He stills, back resting against the door as he looks out into the empty hallway.
He should be making his way towards the Russian team's room. He should be forcing his body down the hallway towards Yakov and Milia and Viktor. Instead, it's like his feet have been glued to the floor.
Viktor was undoubtedly the greatest skater in this current generation.
He had the classic technique that endeared him to the judges, he had the charisma that audiences and the media ate up, he had the support of a huge federation. For all intents and purposes, Viktor Nikiforov is the best skater there has been in a while, and he was Russian to top it off. So he should be Yuri's idol.
And then, on a generic Tuesday night, where he had skipped Lilia's ballet classes in favour of more ice-time, when he had screamed so loudly that he would not take classes because he wasn't a ballerina and therefore shouldn't be subjected to the strenuous ballet classes all of Yakov's novice skaters had to suffer, Lilia had forced Yuri out of his room and into her home office.
In all of her infinite wisdom, Lilia had not shouted at him like he had expected. Instead, she had pulled him to stand beside her as she turned on her computer.
"I've always trained Yakov's skaters in the foundation of ballet, but as soon as they start competing, they never return to the barre. Not even Vitya." She sighs heavily, as if she was used to it, and yet it still pained her to think of. "I wondered why I should even continue to train them, even after the divorce, and then a student of mine sent me a video one day of her own danseur ."
Lilia had pulled up the video then. The young boy, probably only fourteen at the time, was running through complex training drills on the barre, the kind Yuri had never seen before. He had the same intensity that other students in Lilia's class had - not the figure skating ones, but the actual dancers.
His extensions, his fluidity, all of the movements were impeccable. It was no wonder Lilia's eyes shone whilst watching it.
"I was immediately impressed and thought that Minako was going to ask if he could come to St. Petersburg for lessons, perhaps even a training camp of sorts. I had decided as soon as I saw the video that he was too good to let waste away without proper teaching. He was far past the entry age, but with his ability, I would've pulled some strings and sent a recommendation to Vaganova myself."
Lilia had then clicked off her email, and pulled up a different video. This time, it was on YouTube. It had barely any views, likes or comments, but Lilia typed in the direct video title, as if she had watched it enough to memorise it.
"So, imagine my surprise when she tells me he is not in fact a future danseur but instead a skater."
The video was everything Yuri had needed to see - he could finally see the point of the classes, could see the musicality and intricacies that a person possessed by the intensive training Lilia had forced him in. He could see the reason Lilia was so hard on him. He understood what the light at the end of the tunnel looked like. Yuuri Katsuki - they even had the same name.
"I'm not saying that you should continue with the classes to be a good skater, heaven knows that Vitya is good enough without them. But those things on the ice, Yakov can teach you with time. If your foundations are not there, you will just be an echo of Vitya. Do you want to be good, Yuri Plisetesky?"
Lilia's eyes moved from his face, turning directly to the video where the young skater had arched his back into an exquisite ina bauer, a release of expression, a deluge of emotion.
"Or, do you want to be great ?"
He wretches the door back open.
Katsuki startles at the sound. His eyebrows furrow as he takes in Yuri's heaving chest, rising from the couch with a worried look on his face. "Are you alrig-"
Yuri does not even think before he runs across the room.
He slams his body against Yuuri's, arms circling around the older man's waist and burying his face into his stomach. Heat burns through his body, flushing his cheeks so bright he can do nothing but shove his face further into the man's stomach even more.
He feels so small, more like a child than he ever has felt like before.
Perhaps he had been lying to himself all along. Perhaps he did care what people had to say about him, speculating his future, announcing his success preemptively, waiting for him to fail to live up to those expectations that the world was setting into stone as fact. How else could he explain the ease in his stomach if not, as he burrows himself into Yuuri's side?
How else could he explain the lifting of his shoulders and the calming of his frantic breathing?
How else could he explain this other than the fact that out of everyone in the world, Yuuri Katsuki was the first to treat him like a person. Not an heir to a throne, a successor to the enormity of Viktor's sun, a shadow of an afterthought.
There's a split second where fear starts to pool into Yuri's lungs, till a gentle hand slowly starts to card it's way through his hair. It's soft and warm, and Yuuri's hand feels enormous as it cups the back of his nape, setting his haywire nerves at bay.
"Thank you," His voice is muffled. "But if you tell anyone about this, I'll bury you ten feet under."
He can feel Katsuki's laugh reverberate through the hug. "I'll take it to the grave."
"Yuuri!" His waiting room's door slams open, and for the second time in a day, Yuuri is accosted by another young skater ramming their bodies against his waist in a tight hug.
"Nadiya." He laughs out, before twisting his body so that he's standing up. He wastes no time in lifting the young girl up on her feet, spinning her around in his empty waiting room.
She giggles as he puts her back on her feet, exuberant. "We did it! We really did it!"
Yuuri laughs loudly. "Yep! Reigning World Champions! How great does it feel?"
Nadiya breathes deeply, clasping her hands together. "Unreal. Everyone was trying to talk to me, it was so weird."
"You did a good job!" He ruffles her hair, leading her back into his room. "Want some snacks?"
"What kind?"
"I bought some that I thought you might like. Oh, hello!" Yuuri bows towards the figure that is following Nadiya. She's tall, and the resemblance between her and the young skater is uncanny. "You must be Nadiya's mother."
"Cara Kovalenko." Nadiya's mother holds her hand out, tightly shaking Yuuri's hand. Nadiya is already engaged in sifting through the bag of sweets Yuuri had handed her, completely ignorant of her mother's arrival.
"So you're the person she's always texting. It's like she's glued to her phone these days." Cara smiles warmly towards Yuuri. "But thank you for it. She's told me so much about you. If it wasn't for your night calls or texts, Nadiya would not have gotten this far without you."
"Anything I can do to help." Yuuri says sincerely. "Nadiya mentioned that she's parted ways with her old coach and was struggling in the lead up to Worlds. Can I ask what happened?"
Cara sighs heavily, "Well, her coach suddenly collapsed and had to be hospitalised. He's almost eighty, so the doctors recommended that he retire as soon as possible. To add insult to injury, our rink is closing down as well. It's a miracle she even was prepared for Worlds to begin with."
"Yeah, I had to go skate on a frozen lake outside our house." Nadiya pipes up, cheeks overflowing with snacks. She gulps loudly, almost choking on the food. "It was not pretty."
"It wasn't." Cara agrees, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. "She almost fell into the lake. I had to drag her out myself."
"Katsuki-san, I've brought the hot water you wanted, oh-" Miyamoto freezes at the sight of people in Yuuri's waiting room. "Wow, everytime I leave the room, more people seem to spawn from the ground." She speaks in Japanese towards Yuuri, laughing. "Where did little Yuri go?"
"He went back to his coach." Yuuri responds back, before turning back towards Cara. Speaking in English this time, he asks "Would you like some tea?"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother you-"
"Nonsense." Miyamoto nudges her to sit on the coach, before she starts to dig into Yuuri's bag. "Are you planning on feeding all the kids here, Katsuki-san?"
"Maybe." He jokes, laughing when she smacks his arm. Miyamoto finds a packet of tea bags, before pouring some into a cup for Cara, steeping the tea bag until the colour turns translucent.
"Where's Minako-sensei?" Yuuri asks.
"Out with a reporter." Miyamoto responds. "They caught wind of her rebranding her school, so she's trying to capitalise on it."
"Good for her." Yuuri nods. "Anyway, Nadiya, have you tried this new game? I can't get to the next level-'
"He's a good kid, isn't he?" Cara muses, watching as her daughter becomes engrossed in conversation with the older boy. "My girl is so shy, it's difficult for her to make friends."
Miyamoto sighs, sipping her drink. "Yuuri's coach told me he was like that too. Maybe they're kindred spirits."
"Hmm." Cara looks into her cup. She bites her lip, before asking "Do all big athletes have assistants like yourself? I-I'm only asking because I feel I'm in over my head with Nadiya."
"I'm not Katsuki-san's assistant." Miyamoto waves her hand frantically. "I'm a representative of the JSF. They send at least one official to major competitions to help athletes focus. They deal with the competition, we deal with the media."
"Oh." Cara swallows. "The Japanese federation must care a lot about it's skaters."
"Well… it's just that we're more established. The infrastructure was already there, so we just follow protocol." Miyamoto shrugs.
"I wish there was something in place for Nadiya. There isn't a lot of support for her. You- you wouldn't have any connections to some coaches, would you?" There is a shudder of anxiety in Cara's eyes, and she picks at her nails nervously.
"It's just, well, you see our Nadiya's coaching team has done everything they can to help her, but we just can't keep up any longer. And, what with the rink closing, there's no telling when we'd be able to resume training or even if we can continue in the off-season-"
Cara exhales slowly, as if she is trying to control her emotions. "I- I'm sorry. It's probably rude to ask this of you."
There is a loud cough. Cara's head snaps towards where Nadiya and Yuuri were sitting.
Her daughter sits there motionless, and a painful stab of embarrassment floods her. How could she ask this, in front of her daughter of all people? Nadiya was a World Champion on her own account, to have her own mother ask such things, how could Cara be so shameless-
"No, it's not rude at all." Yuuri's voice breaks through the room like a knife through air. "So you're saying Nadiya won't have a rink over the off-season?"
"Yeah." Nadiya mumbles. "I- this is probably my last season."
"That's a little negative considering it's your first year competing." Yuuri laughs, ruffling her hair. "If the problem is she doesn't have a rink for the off-season, what about coming to mine?"
Miyamoto chokes on her tea.
"Your- your rink ?" Nadiya's voice takes on a higher register, squeaking out her incredulity.
"Just until the season picks up, right? When does your school finish?"
"June."
"So you can stay over the holidays." Yuuri dismisses her disbelief.
"Erm, Katsuki-senshu." Miyamoto laughs politely towards Nadiya and her mother, before tightly gripping Yuuri's arm. "Please give me one moment."
"What are you doing?" She hisses quietly, switching over to Japanese.
Yuuri frowns. "I thought Minako-sensei told you. My rink hired a new coach for competitive skating. We're holding a free summer school to advertise the program to new skaters."
"I-I thought that was just for the ballet school!"
"It's in conjunction with Ice Castle." Yuuri bites back a smirk. "Did Minako tell you about Haru-chan?"
"The kid that you're training?"
"Hmm." Yuuri nods his head in confirmation. "I've already taken over her classes, Suzuki-sensei is all set to be coaching in September, which conveniently is just in time for the new season. I don't mind keeping an eye on her whilst she figures out her coaching situation."
"But- isn't it a lot of work for you?" Miyamoto worries. "You should be preparing for seniors-"
"Celestino is coming over to kick-start my training before I even leave for America. There's no need to worry."
"But- she's a Junior World champion." Miyamoto frets. "It's not like training a novice skater-"
"All the more reason to step in." Yuuri says. "It would be wrong to not lend a hand when she has no other option, especially when I know I can help."
Miyamoto is rendered speechless. Her jaw is slack, and despite her worries, she does not know how to overcome the immense pressure radiating from Katsuki-senshu. She can feel emotion start to rise in her throat - Katsuki-senshu wasn't just a world-class athlete, he truly cared about the sport, so much as to even help a rival country. It was a disservice to think so lowly of him.
"Whatever you say, I will follow." She decides. Yuuri smiles.
"Nadiya!" He turns and says. "My rink is doing a two-week summer camp in July, but if your rink is closing down, I can't see why you can't come a little earlier."
"I- Is that possible?" Cara's hand rises to cover her mouth, trembling.
"Of course!" Yuuri nods enthusiastically. "You shouldn't have to worry about visas either, since the summer camp is free. She wouldn't have to pay for boarding either, just for the tickets over. And you'd be more than welcome to be there with her, Ms. Kovalenko."
"I- that's…" Cara cannot get another word in before Nadiya throws herself at Yuuri.
"Can I really see your rink?!" She squeals excitedly. "Oh, I can see Vicchan in person too!"
"Nadiya, wait. Mr. Katsuki, are you completely sure this is okay?" Cara worries. "How could we ever impose-"
"If you'd like, Ms. Kovalenko," Miyamoto interrupts. "We could invite Nadiya on behalf of the JSF to attend the summer school. As it is a free program, there won't be any need for a specific visa. We can make a direct request to your federation to allow Nadiya the chance to skate. In fact, why don't the two of us sit down and hash out the finer details. I'm sure Yuuri and Nadiya should start preparing for the exhibition tomorrow."
"Sounds like a plan." Yuuri sends Miyamoto a thumbs up.
"Yuri, I'm so glad you made it." Viktor's stupid face was smiling nonchalently, as if he wasn't the sole reaosn why Yuri was about to get chewed out by Yakov. Humph, well he'd let Viktor live, since he was the reason he even met Yuuri in the first place. "You wouldn't happen to have met anyone whilst I was in the bathroom, did you?"
"So you were in the bathroom!"
Viktor shrugs his shoulders. "I was in the one down the hallway, away from the media hall like Yakov told me to. Which one did you go to find me?"
Yuri feels the lick of embarrassment lick at the tips of his ears. He turns around indignitendly, crossing his arms. The plastic bag he holds crinkles at the movement.
"What's that?" Mila pipes up from her position on the coach, bronze medal newly minted and slung across her neck.
"Yes, what is that?" Yuri freezes at the sound of Yakov's heavy footsteps. "I thought I made it clear to you that you weren't to leave the room, even if it was because Viktor had run away."
"I didn't run away!" Viktor resents, pouting. "I had to go to the bathroom - you know, to take a shi-"
" Viktor ."
Yakov glares at his oldest skater, before shaking his head, sighing. "At least you're safe. That's all that matters. How did you find your way back?"
"Oh, I was already in the athlete's hallway. I was hanging out with a… friend." Yuri winces at the palpable silence. "Okay so I made a new friend. He gave me snacks."
Yuri waves the little plastic bag. "He told me to share it with everyone."
"He?" Yakov raises an eyebrow. "Please tell me it's not Smirnov-"
Yuri almost retches. "Don't ever say that name in front of me."
"But who?" Mila jumps up, and immediately starts to sift through the bag. "Oooh, these ones look so cute! Wait, are these Japanese characters?"
Viktor sharply inhales. Yakov's beady eyes drill into his forehead. Yuri wants to grab his little snacks and run, preferably back to Yuuri's own room.
"So erm, I met Katsuki. He's cool."
Yakov's eye twitches.
"Yakov-"
"Didn't I specifically tell you not to go looking for Katsuki-"
"BUT HE'S SO NICE!" Yuri's scream echoes against the walls. Mila throws a panda bear cookie into her mouth, head flicking between Yakov and Yuri's arguing bodies like she's eating popcorn.
"You lied anyway!" Yuri turns away and grabs the bag out of Mila's hands, ignoring her screech of murder.
"What exactly did I lie about?"
"You said Yuuri would be like Nikiforov but you're wrong! He gave me advice and his number-" Yuri chooses to ignore Viktor's betrayed gasp, continuing on as if he wasn't interrupted. "He even told me I could have his spare seats at the gala practice and the exhibition."
"Yura-"
"And he said it was cool that we had the same name, and he gave me all these snacks and more because I was hungry and alone in a foreign country because Viktor abandoned me , and he told me he watched some of my videos online and that I was a good skater, but I should probably listen to my coaches and not do a triple axel yet because I need to grow first, and Lilia knows about him and he-"
"Yuri!"
Yuri heaves after his speech, breath coming out in gasps of air. He looks down at his feet, biting his lip. "I know you're protective over me 'cause of Moscow, but Yuuri's really nice. He's really, really nice." He rummages through the plastic bag, handing over the matcha-flavoured cookies. "He told me to give this to you specifically, because it's low-sugar. You know, because of your diabetes."
He sighs heavily. "I'll talk to Katsuki's coach about it myself. Do not go wandering away again." Yakov rips open the package and bites into one of the biscuits. The flavour explodes in his mouth.
The next day
Ostrava, Czech Republic
" La la la la ." Viktor hums lightly, patting some toner into his skin. His body is swaying slightly, as he pats the excess into his neck and his hands. Makeup would be a bit much, especially so early in the morning, so Ksneia had handed him a serum last night with a wink.
He waits patiently as it dries down on his skin, setting off a dewy radiance across his face. The morning sunlight catches his cheekbones, and Viktor can't help but preen at himself in the mirror. Silently, he creeps past Yuri's sleeping body, pulling out his portable steamer to iron out his clothes.
It's sputtering hiss causes Viktor to flinch, and his head swivels frantically towards Yuri's side of the room. The child is still bundled under the covers, and Viktor breathes out in relief as he sees the soft rise of Yuri's chest.
He turns back to his crisp white shirt, humming to himself. Would it be overkill to steam the hoodie too? Do people even steam hoodies?
He lifts the black hoodie into his hands. Katsuki's fresh scent had completely disappeared over time, now infused with Viktor's own scent. It's not like it's a bad smell either - his custom-created perfume of his own signature scent meant that he literally smelled like a thousand buck - but if he gave it back to Katsuki, he'd know that he'd been wearing it.
The embarrassment hits Viktor like a bullet. His cheeks flush but he can't stop from burying his head further into the softness of the jacket. The date is almost worth giving it up, at least he hopes it's a date. Chris' texts seem promising, but there was still an edge of doubt tainting Viktor's mind.
The date is almost worth giving it up, he thinks to himself. He breathes out a sound, something that even to his ears sounds like a fucking giggle , but he can't contain himself. Happiness seeps out of his every pore - a date . Coffee with Yuuri.
"What the fuck."
Viktor screeches. Yuri looks at him in horror.
"W-why are you smiling? Creep."
"Shut the fuck up Plisetsky. Go back to sleep, it's seven."
" Exactly ." Yuri moans. "It's seven in the morning and you look like you've had five coffees. Why are you eve- why are you dressed like that?"
"Like what?" Viktor eyes himself in the mirror. His shirt is crisp and steamed, tucked into his pale blue jeans. It's casual and simple, but the jeans cling to his long legs, enough that it gives Viktor a little jump in his step. He leaves the first two buttons open, exposing a small panel of skin. Nothing but the best for his rival - he hopes Katsuki will appreciate it. All he has to do now is sort out his hair, maybe braided to one side-
He yelps as a pillow knocks his head. "Ow! What the fuck did you put in that?" He rubs the back of his head harshly.
"The dignity that you dropped. Are you forgetting that you're on Yakov's shit list because of the stunt you pulled yesterday?"
"I told you, I was in the bathroom!"
"A reporter saw you in the media hallway. You're lucky they didn't get a picture. Yakov played it off that you were here to support Milla. I hate how people are going to think you're a supportive senior when you're actually a bitc-"
"You, my dear Plisetsky, swear far too much for a ten year old." Viktor throws the pillow back at him.
"What do you think?" He pulls his hair up, so pieces frame around his angular face. "Up or down?"
"Up. But why?" Yuri's drowsy face suddenly becomes alert. "Wait, you're actually leaving?"
Viktor spritzes his cologne on his wrist, the smell of honey and chamomile engulfing the air. Yuri grimaces at the smell, eyes narrowing. "Oi, you're not allowed to leave me alone. You're lucky I was in a good mood yesterday, but I'll definitely tell Yakov if you leave me just to do whatever gross adult stuff you do on your time off."
"Listen, I'll pay you 2,000 rubles if you stay in the room for just an hour."
"No! I have to go to the exhibition practice today. If you make me late, I'll gut you in your sleep."
"You're acting as if you're not going to be sleeping for the next hour. Besides, the practice doesn't start until nine-thirty. I'll be back at nine."
"I'm getting picked up at nine . You'll ruin everything-"
"5,000." Viktor sticks his hand out. "Come on."
"Make it 15 ,000 and you have to be back at the hotel by half eight."
"Eight forty-five."
"10,000."
"Pleasure doing business." The two shake hands solemnly.
Viktor turns to look in the mirror one more time, throwing on a cream jacket. He spruces up for a few more minutes, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Just one more step till happiness-
"Where do you think you are going?"
"AHHH-"
Viktor wretches back as Yakov slams the door open, arms crossed and face turning red. He takes a step menacingly forward, and Viktor cringes under the sheer magnitude of hostility that Yakov exudes.
"Yakov, my one and only coach, why are you here at seven in the morning?"
"Call it a coach's intuition, but I just knew you were going to pull something like this. I'm not even surprised anymore." Yakov spits out, seethingly.
"I- i'm taking Yuri out sightseeing."
"At seven in the morning?"
"We're getting breakfast." Viktor turns towards Yuri, who very much is not ready, and smiles as brightly as he can. "There's this really cute cafe about ten minutes away-"
"I will not let you galavant off to god knows where-"
"I'm going anywhere! Honest . A friend told me that this cafe has the best pain au chocolat and I just have to try it, Yakov. Plus, do you really think Yuri will let me make him late for Katsuki?"
Yakov's glare does not diminish, but he does close his eyes as if every word that comes out of Viktor's mouth physically pains him. He sighs heavily. "If you Yuri late, I am not responsible for your murder. Do you need me to drop you off?"
"Nope!" Viktor waves his hands frantically. "I've already booked a taxi, it should be here in five minutes."
Yakov raises an eyebrow. "Five minutes?"
"Yep." Viktor smiles widely.
"And Yuri's just fallen asleep?"
"Yuri's just fallen asleep." Viktor repeats. His smile drops rapidly. "Fuck." He spins on his feet, grabbing the blanket off Yuri's snoozing body. "Yuri, wake up!"
Yakov groans behind him, "I don't want to deal with this. Just take Yuri with you, wherever you go." Viktor can hear the thud of his coach leaving, but is far more preoccupied with staving off a sleep-deprived and hissing Yuri.
"Ow, not the face ."
"You said for me to stay here-"
"Change of plan." Viktor turns around to dig into Yuri's suitcase. He throws a sweatshirt and sweatpants towards the kid, before swiverling on his feet, placing his hands on his hips. "If Yakov catches me without you, I'm dead."
"Does that mean I don't get my 10,000-"
"Shut up, Yuri." Viktor bites his lip. "Get ready in five, the taxi's almost here."
"What-"
"Just shut up and get ready."
The cold morning air freezes Viktor's cheeks, and he huddles closer into his jacket. Ostrava is beautiful to walk around, large architecture that has Viktor itching to take pictures of if he wasn't supposed to be incognito.
It was like walking into an old fairytale, cobblestoned pavements and antique stores surrounding every inch of the street in front of him. The morning was as busy as any other city, and Viktor is quick to pull Yuri closer so as to not lose the young child.
"This is so stupid." Yuri complains, yawning loudly. "Why do I have to go with you on your stupid date?"
"It's not a date." Viktor argues back. Despite Christophe's pep talk yesterday, Viktor knows that if it really was a date, Christophe would've known as Yuuri's self-proclaimed bestie. The fact that he didn't say anything about it to Viktor means that Yuuri mustn't have told him anything. Ergo, he probably didn't think it was a date.
Viktor's gaze falls on the black hoodie he has folded and tucked under his arm. "He's just a friend." He says, mournfully.
Yuri narrows his eyes. "You don't have any friends."
Viktor gasps. "That's a lie! I have friends!"
"Lilia doesn't count, she's basically your mother."
"Erm, Yakov loves me. Ksneia says I'm her soulmate."
"All people you pay." Yuri waves his hand flippantly.
"Christophe." Viktor fights back. "We text ."
Yuri makes a mocking noise. "Oooh, we text . You say that about all your 'friends'. Natalia says you sleep with everyone you 'text'."
"Natalia should not talk about my sex life with a ten year old." Viktor grimaces. "And, please I could never sleep with Christophe. We're way too similar and there's far too much ass in the equation to even contemplat-"
"Don't finish that sentence." Yuri scowls.
"Wait," Yuri startles, his head snapping towards Viktor's face. "By Christophe, do you mean Giacommeti ?"
"Yeah. Chris, we met at Europeans."
"The one who's Yuuri's friend?" Yuri asks.
The two of them stop outside of the cafe. Bienvenue is a sweet, unassuming cafe at the side of the road, hidden between two other larger shops. It's exposed brickstone building seeps pastoral energy and it looks like something out of a travel postcard - all in all, it was the perfect date spot, if it weren't for the ten-year old attached to Viktor's hip until further notice.
Before Viktor can respond, Yuri stills. His face turns pale as he swivels to look at the older man, before he whispers out a horrified, " No ."
Viktor avoids his gaze.
"No." He repeats, scandalised.
"Yuri."
"NO!"
Viktor smacks a hand to cover the younger skater's mouth. "Yuri, please ."
Yuri struggles against Viktor's grip, kicking him widely in the shin. His face is red from exertion and he looks moments away from committing murder - probably Viktor's. "That was Katsuki's hoodie?!" he screeches.
"Yura, if I can explain everything-"
"You're trying to get into Katsuki's pants, oh my fucking god . This whole time, the reason you came here was- I'm going to throw up ."
"Yura!" Viktor grips Yuri's shoulder's tightly. "Listen. I swear I'm not getting into Katsuki's bed-" He wouldn't mind , but now was not the time to break Yura's innocence- "He's literally just a friend that lent me the hoodie. We're catching up over some coffee, come on! You said it yourself that he's going to be waiting for you at the practice rink. All you have to do is sit at a different table. I'll pay for your hot chocolate and-"
"Like fucking hell I'm letting you get anywhere near Yuuri. You'll dig your claws into him like you always do! Remember that Canadian hockey player with the squeaky voice? You don't do friends, you sleep with people and-"
"It's different, Katsuki's different-"
Yuri doesn't listen, spinning on his heels and running through the door. Viktor watches in horror as his fingers just fail to grasp the back of his hoodie, as Yuri Plisetsky leaves him behind in a whirl of anger.
He doesn't know how he does it, but Viktor is behind Yuri in an instant, the slam of the coffee shop's door echoing behind them. It startles the inhabitants, causing all eyes to turn towards them, but Viktor cannot feel an inch of shame as he grabs Yuri's arm from behind.
"If you ruin this for me I will be the one to murder you ." He leans down, whispering harshly under his breath.
"If you think I'll let you anywhere near Yuuri, you're dead wrong."
A cough interrupts their fight.
There, in all of his beauty and grace, is the object of their argument. Viktor flushes red. Yuuri Katsuki sits at the back of the coffee shop, on a little booth table. He's sitting with his back against the wall on a bench, with a small circular table in front of him that was space enough for only one other person.
He looks impeccably handsome in only a simple grey sweatshirt, his glasses propped on the ridge of his nose, all primed and ready for his practice session in a few hours. Viktor's watch blears the time - it's half seven, meaning Katsuki was early to their meeting. Early. He was a punctual person. Viktor burns even warmer.
Yuri storms ahead towards him, plopping down in the only empty seat. Katsuki blinks, face mirrored in confusion.
Viktor bites down the embarrassment that floods him. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't leave him alone."
Yuuri looks up at him, huffing out a laugh. "It's okay. Here," He nudges himself along his bench seat, making room for Viktor to sit directly next to him.
Viktor bites his lip to stop the spread of a smirk, sinking down next to Yuuri. Yuri seethes in front of him.
"Are you and Viktor dating?" Yuri starts sprouting out Russian, and it would have been alright if Viktor hadn't been present when Yuuri Katsuki had spoken his language flawlessly yesterday, which meant that he understood Yuri's words exactly . He was going to kill a child. "He wears your hoodie all the fucking time, it's gross-"
" Yura!" Oh, he was definitely going to be in the news as a child-murder.
Yuuri visibly chokes on air, hacking out air. The mortification hits Viktor like a truck. Oh how he wishes he could actually be hit by a truck- he'd more likely survive it than whatever hell Plisetsky was going to put him through.
"He's lying. I don't wear it all the time." Viktor spits out through his teeth, directing his glare at the young child in front of him. He speaks English in hope that Yuri would feel excluded, but the fucking reincarnation of the anti-christ just sticks his tongue out, childishly.
Katsuki hides his laughter behind a cough. "Sure. Why don't I order for everyone, since we're here. Yurio, have you eaten yet?" His voice curls around the Russian vowels, and Viktor all but swoons in his seat. Katsuki is so close to his side, he can hear the soft tilt of his voice as his tongue curls through his native language.
"Nope!" Viktor gapes as Yuri Plisetsky, Satan-incarnate, smiles like a fucking angel towards Katsuki. He swivels his head to look out of the window, and sure enough, the sun isn't rising from the west.
"Good. I guess we'll all have breakfast then." Yuuri leans down to whisper to Viktor, "I assume you haven't eaten yet, either?"
Viktor gulps, throat turning dry. "No." he squeaks out.
"Good. I can pick the best ones for you, then." Katsuki stands up, turning towards the counter. Viktor's eyes drill into his back, curling around the tops of his nimble shoulders, and he lets out a wheezing sigh.
Something hits his face, and Viktor turns sharply towards Yuri who's sneering at him. A sachet of sugar lies on the table, the sole perpetrator of Viktor's attack.
"Stop looking at him like that."
"Like what? I'm just looking ."
"You're watching him like he's a piece of meat. I won't let you have impure thoughts about my rival."
"You're a bit too young to be obsessing over another guy-OW!" Viktor hisses, rubbing his shin frantically from where Yuri had slammed his foot. "You're a little piece of shit-"
"I bought the drinks first. They'll serve us the food." Yuuri places the tray in the middle of the table, handing out three steaming drinks to their respective owners.
Viktor leaps up to help him, still coming to terms with Yuuri speaking Russian, only for him to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sit back down. Viktor swoons at the touch.
"I hope you're okay with what I ordered."
"Anything you get me will be great." Viktor counters, unable to stop the spread of his smile from causing his cheeks to ache.
He prepares himself to suffer through some kind of strong coffee - he doesn't know why everyone thinks he's an Americano guy, but he's beared through enough bad coffee dates to know it wasn't a one off thing - only for Katsuki to nudge some kind of clear, light-coloured tea towards him.
"I asked for some honey or jam, and they'll bring it with the food if you can wait a bit longer." Yuuri murmurs towards him.
He sends a warm smile his way, and Viktor's breath catches at the sight. The expression may go that butterflies could swarm your stomach, but for Viktor, it felt more akin to wasps attacking his body at every shot of Katsuki's smile.
"I thought you would've ordered me a coffee or something." He manages to stammer out.
Yuuri shrugs, "You don't seem like a coffee person."
"He's too prissy for that." Yuri bursts in. "Thank you, for the hot chocolate."
"You're welcome." Viktor has to beat back the jealousy that hits when Katsuki turns to direct his smile towards the child. "Try it with the cream." He pushes a little bowl filled with whipped cream towards Yuri, who spoons it into his drink.
"It's a lot thicker than normal hot chocolates," Yuuri warns. "Make sure to cool it down, you might burn your tongue."
Yuri heads his warnings, ignoring Viktor's gawking stare. "So, if you're not dating Viktor, how did he get your hoodie?"
Viktor chokes on his tea. "Yura, stop asking him question-"
"I wanted to ask that myself." Katsuki sips on his own coffee, from a quick glance it was some kind of dark-roasted monstrosity, before he turns towards Viktor, resting his cheek against his palm. He's teasing me , Viktor realises with a start.
"What- did Viktor steal it-"
"I did not!" He takes a deep breath. Oh god, what if Katsuki actually thought he did steal it?-
"I was pretty drunk at the exhibition." Yuuri concedes, leaning back. "I'm not the best drinker, and Chris isn't the best person to be around when you're drinking."
Viktor snorts. "I can see how that's the case. He got me well and truly beat at Europeans."
Katsuki's eyes widen. "You went out drinking with Chris?"
Viktor groans resoundly. "It was an experience, I'll say."
"Well, I was way too drunk to know what happened. I must've given you my hoodie some time after the banquet dinner."
"So you didn't remember." Viktor can't help the despondency slip out of mouth. He doesn't know if he's grateful that Katsuki didn't actively ghost him, or upset that their moment would only be remembered by Viktor.
Who's to say it even really happened? What proof does Viktor have to say that it was real? Before Katuski could even respond, he does what he always does and hides his emotions, quick to change the mood. "Anyway, how do you feel, breaking three world records in a row?"
"What is this, a press conference?" Katsuki laughs, although there is a hint of emotion that Viktor doesn't quite catch. Maybe he caught on to Viktor's mood quicker than others have before. "And I'm grateful the judges thought it was worth the points. I still have a lot to work on."
"A lot to work on?!" Yuri scoffs, whilst Viktor gapes at the man. "What do you mean by that? If anything, they underscored you-"
"I have your breakfast meals here." A waitress comes towards the table, placing food at the centre. "If you need anything, let me know."
"Thank you." Yuuri smiles, before setting about transferring the plates to their rightful owners. "I hope you're okay with what I chose."
Yuri drools at the pancakes, immediately cutting into the stack and shoving them inside his mouth. Viktor is a little more conscious of the fact that an attractive person is sitting next to him, and instead dunks his scone into his mug, careful to brush off any crumbs.
Yuuri himself cuts into some kind of egg dish, perhaps an egg's benedict from the hollandaise sauce Viktor recognises. Viktor watches with apt attention as Katsuki pierces the egg, yolk oozing out of the cut and into the bread, ready for dipping.
Some of the egg ends up near Katsuki's mouth, and he cannot help himself from reaching out, swiping his thumb near the soft skin underneath Katsuki's lip, cleaning it off for him. Katsuki startles, but instead of calling Viktor a creep like he should, he soft pink flush spreads up his neck.
"Thank you." He whispers in response, barely heard under the bustle of the cafe.
He lifts a hand to wipe at his mouth, before turning his attention back to Yuri. The heat of his body is a constant reminder to how close the two of them are, and Viktor feels his body tense the entire time, seldom able to control his own body from revealing its own reaction.
"Have you found a new coach?" Yuri asks.
Katsuki nods, popping a piece of toast into his mouth."Yeah. I haven't announced it yet, but I've signed a contract already."
"Who's the lucky person?" Viktor leans forward. He bites his lip to stop the groan of pain escaping his mouth when he feels Yuri hit his foot once again.
"Wouldn't you like to know." Yuuri leans back in his seat, sending Viktor a teasing smile. "I guess you'll have to wait to find out like everyone else."
Viktor would have prodded for more, if Yuuri didn't start to cut his toast into a little bite-sized piece, piercing some of the egg onto his fork before raising it in Viktor's direction. "Want to try a bit?"
Viktor flounders, but leans down to take the food into his mouth. He savours the explosion of flavour. " Vkusno ." He laughs out.
"I'm going to kill myself ." Yuri sneers.
Yuuri laughs loudly, as if he cannot control himself, and the happiness that seeps out of him makes everything Viktor suffered through seem worth it. He's scared that the moment will break, when he feels something warm against his hands.
Underneath the table, Yuuri's pinkie finger rests against his own. It takes Viktor's entire brain rebooting to realise that he's entwined the two of them together. Plisetsky is going off on a tangent about Katsuki's skating, and whilst it was Viktor's most beloved of conversation starters, his mind has turned static.
He feels Yuuri's finger tighten, before he leans down and whispers under his breath, "I wish I did remember."
Viktor feels like he's on cloud nine for the rest of the day.