Yuuri watched gleefully as Phichit lauthered the locker with sour cream. Thanks to Phichit's ingenuity and Yuuri's extra key to the rink, a dirtbag hockey player was getting some overdue payback.

Suddenly, there was the sound of approaching footsteps.

Both skaters froze, turning in horor to see their coach in the doorway.

"We can explain."

Celestino raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," Yuuri said, looking down. "We can't."

This was it. They were going to get lectured, banned from the rink, deported from the country-

"Next time," Celestino said, interrupting his thoughts. "Bring flashlights."

And without another word, he turned to leave.