In their defense, they were drunk.

"Whatever," Yuri said, slurring his words. "I don't care who won the dance off. But who beat you at the Grand Prix Final? Who brought home the gold medal? Me!"

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

"That medal was barely gold anyway," he pouted.

"Are you color blind?" Yuri asked. "Do I need to show you the pictures? Because it looks-"

"He means," Viktor interrupted. "That the medals are over 90 percent silver and only plated with gold."

Yuri's eyes went wide.

"What?"

Yuuri let out a loud laugh.

"Barely gold medalist Yuri Plisetsky."

"Shut up!"


Author's Note:

Later, Viktor totally found Yuri curled up in a corner, crying that he didn't care about the structural integrity. He wanted his solid gold medal.

I'm also looking for a beta reader. So let me know if that interests you.