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fanniwrites · 8 years ago

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Grab My Hand (Dance With Me)

Rating: General Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Word Count: 1,671

Summary: “Dance with me.”

Yuuri, who had only just started eating his lunch, freezes.

Ao3

“Dance with me.”

Yuuri, who had only just started eating his lunch, freezes.

Before him kneels Victor, hand outstretched expectantly. Yuuri blinks, looking around to see if, maybe, his classmate was gesturing for someone else to comply with his ridiculous request. All that he finds are his peers, suddenly quiet and very curious about the scene happening before them. Yuuri swallows his food.

“Me?” He asks, pointing to himself.

Yuuri is swept off his seat before he can get an answer, or even answer in return.

The dance is sloppy. Victor holds Yuuri’s hand and waist and spins them across the courtyard, and Yuuri, too stunned by this turn of events, tries to follow along as best as he can. Everything is happening too fast. Around them, people cheer and clap and whistle, enjoying the show Victor has started. Faintly, he registers the click of cameras.

When it’s finished, Victor dips Yuuri in his arms. They are both panting, out of breath, and the cheering from their classmates has increased tenfold. Yuuri barely notices, too caught by a smile like the sun and eyes that sparkled like the ocean in the early morning.

“Smile for the camera, lovebirds!” Someone shouts. Victor turns his head, grinning.

Realization comes quickly.

Yuuri pushes Victor away, hard, and marches back to his seat to keep eating his lunch.

He resolutely doesn’t look at Yuuko and Takashi, who stare at him, confounded, and he resists even the smallest temptation to glance back at Victor.

::x::

No one knows much about Victor.

Everyone’s aware that his family must be foreigners, which is obvious, and that he has a little brother who waits for him outside the school everyday.

Victor also likes to dance.

Yuuri remembers the first time he saw it--Victor’s dancing.

It was graceful. Victor held himself at perfect posture, moved his arms and legs with swift, clean movements. Music flowed through every part of him, telling a story with his body rather than his words.

It felt incredibly somber, and incredibly lonely, watching the boy dance by himself in the middle of the clubroom.

The dance in the courtyard had been much different than that. It was messy and erratic, filled with so much more life in every movement. Even through the confusion, Yuuri knew he and everyone around them were having fun with the dance. The way Victor looked was so much more spirited, and it was yet another dance that had taken Yuuri’s breath away.

But the way Victor smiled at the camera’s afterward, something bright and only imitating happiness for the sake of the crowd, made something twist in Yuuri’s gut. The moment they had became less about them and more about everyone else.

Yuuri couldn't help but feel used.

::x::

Victor is persistent.

After the dancing incident in the courtyard, he visits Yuuri’s classroom for three days afterward. Every single time he stands outside the door asking for Yuuri, and every single time he’s denied. Yuuko is very firm with her no the third time, which is enough to make Victor stop coming by the classroom any more.

Of course, it’s not enough to stop him entirely.

In what becomes yet another memorable occasion for the week, Yuuri is approached by Nakamura, one of the clubhouse members. “A gift for Katsuki Yuuri!” He practically shouts, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. With a flourish, he bows, presenting a single daisy with a note attached. “Victor sends his apologies!”

Yuuri takes the flower because he’s not sure what he should do otherwise. Nakamura, pleased, marches back to his own desk.

Takashi whistles. “That Nikiforov is really trying to get your attention, huh?”

Yuuri ignores him, opening the small folded piece of paper. Yuuko leans over his shoulder, curious. “Well?” She asks. There’s a bit of excitement in her voice--Yuuko’s always been enchanted by romantic acts. “What does it say?”

The note is simple, asking Yuuri to meet Victor after school in the clubhouse.

“It’s nothing,” he lies, stuffing the note in his pocket. Takashi and Yuuko give each other knowing glances.

Yuuri doesn’t go to the clubhouse after school.

::x::

He finds more daisies on his desk the next day, tied together neatly with a blue bow. The note says nothing; instead, there’s a doodle of poodle.

::x::

“I’m heading out now!” Yuuri calls from the doorway, slipping on his shoes.

Mari leans against the wall, cigarette in hand. “There should be enough money to get everything on the list,” she says, breathing out a bit of smoke as she speaks. “Are you sure you’ll be fine? It can be pretty packed by the pier, what with everyone going home.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve done this, Mari,” Yuuri points out. He grabs the basket sitting on the floor.

“I know. Figured it didn’t hurt to ask.”

They say quick goodbyes, and Yuuri jogs out the door. If he’s fast about it, he should be back at a decent enough time for him and Mari to get started on dinner.

Yuuri barely makes it past the onsen’s entryway when he hears the soft jingle of a bike bell.

Victor and his brother stop their bikes right behind him, and Yuuri curses his lack of foresight. He knows for a fact that the two of them had to ride by the onsen on their way back home--he can hear them sometimes from his bedroom window, Victor’s brother yelling something while Victor himself laughs. Usually Yuuri was too busy studying or helping around the onsen to cross their paths, and it had never really mattered if they had before.

But now it did, and Yuuri suddenly regrets offering to go to the market in Mari’s place.

“What are we stopping for? Let’s go already,” Victor’s little brother orders, annoyed.

“We have time,” is all Victor says, eyes never leaving Yuuri. “Are you going somewhere? Let me give you a lift.”

Victor’s brother groans. “Is this the guy you keep sulking over? Whatever, I’ll meet you at the pier. Don’t be late or I’ll get on the boat without you,” he warns before riding away on his bike.

“Well?” Victor asks, ignoring his brother’s warning.

Yuuri turns away from Victor and starts walking.

He makes sure to keep staring ahead, even when he knows that Victor is walking right besides him. There’s a few moments of silence as they just walk, side by side, the sun setting in the horizon.

It’s Victor who speaks first. “Did you get my gifts?”

“I did,” Yuuri replies curtly.

“Did you like them?”

Yuuri walks faster. Victor stays at the same pace, closely behind. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else.

They walk the same path all the way down until they reach the hill, where Yuuri stops and sighs. He doesn’t know what’s worse at this point--that Victor obviously didn’t know what he was apologizing for, or that he was currently following Yuuri around like a kicked puppy.

“Give me a ride down to the market,” Yuuri demands lightly. “Then I’ll consider accepting your apology.”

Victor blinks, surprised, before nodding excitedly. He pats the back of his bike, gesturing for Yuuri to climb on.

He does.

::x::

The ride down to the pier is much faster on bike than on foot. Neither Yuuri nor Victor speak the whole way down, but this time the silence is content, easy. Mr. Toyama, the delivery man who drops by supplies sometimes down to the onsen, says hello as they pass by his truck.

When they reach their destination, Yuuri knows it’s time for them to part ways. He can’t stop himself from feeling disappointed.

The sunset is beautiful, reflecting shades of red and amber off of Victor’s silver hair.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you the other day,” Victor finally says. His voice is soft, keeping the moment between the two of them and none of the crowd passing by. “I hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more...” Yuuri struggles to find the words. “I felt more... like you were dancing with me for the sake of newspaper club having a story. It’s sounds silly now what I say it out loud, actually.”

“Not at all,” Victor says, like the idea that Yuuri could ever be silly about anything was ridiculous. “You shouldn’t have felt that way, and I should’ve been more mindful.”

Yuuri smiles. “Okay. But, next time, they are better ways of trying to apologize than stalking my classroom and sending me flowers.”

“Noted.” Victor smiles back.

From the docks, someone yells. They both look over to see Victor’s brother, waving and trying to get their attention. “Hurry up! The boats here!” He calls, frantic. “ Victor !”

“I have to go,” Victor says.

“Yeah.”

“Meet me at the clubhouse tomorrow?”

“And what if I decide not to go?”

“Then don’t.” Victor answers, quick and breathless, as he grabs Yuuri’s hand. “Just know that I’ll be waiting as long as it takes.”

“Your going to miss the boat,” Yuuri urges.

Victor gives one last squeeze before their hands slip apart. They stare at each other as Victor walks backwards, then turns, hopping on his bike and speeding down towards the docks.

Yuuri waves as he leaves.

::x::

Yuuri does go to the clubhouse.

He climbs the stairs, up to where he knows the Dance Club’s room is. Where Victor is waiting for him.

Yuuri is almost tempted to walk away when faced with the other members of the clubhouse, who give knowing glances and whisper loudly as he passes. Thankfully, however, they have enough manners not to bother him, and Yuuri makes it to the clubroom without being stopped by a single person.

When he opens the door, Victor is there, waiting. They are the only two people there.

Victor gives Yuuri a delighted smile as soon as their eyes meet. “Shall we try this again?” He asks, holding out his hand. “Dance with me.”

This time, Yuuri happily accepts.

#victuuriweek #yoi #yuri on ice #au prompt #day 5 #fic #kay writes

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fanniwrites · 8 years ago

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sometimes dreams wear masks

Rating: Teen+ Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Word Count: 4,244

Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is 14 years old when Grand Prix first saves his life, and it's the start of an obsession that would last years after.

(a superhero au)

Ao3

... and there he is! The Grand Prix comes sliding into the scene...

::x::

Yuuri Katsuki is 14 years old when Grand Prix first saves his life.

A quick walk with Vicchan went horribly awry when the dog’s collar got unclipped from his leash. If this had been Hasetsu, there wouldn’t have been too much of a problem. The area was rather peaceful, mostly unbusy. A majority of the time Vicchan wasn’t on his leash at all, and he could run back and forth across some streets with only minor fuss from Yuuri.

But this was the city--the big, bustling city during rush hour.

And when Vicchan ran into the car packed street, Yuuri had not been far behind.

He’s sure he has the article of it somewhere, hidden in the sea of newspaper clippings he’s collected over the years.

GRAND PRIX SAVES BOY AND HIS DOG, the headline reads. Yuuri’s read the section so many times, he could repeat the whole thing line for line, word for word. The fantastical recap of how Grand Prix expertly slid in on his ice to save the day.

And the start of an obsession that would last years after.

::x::

Yuuri Katsuki is 23 years old the second time Grand Prix saves his life.

Except this time the situation is much, much different.

::x::

“He’s here again.”

Yuuri stops tying his ice skate to stare at Phichit, confused. His friend is glancing between his phone and the ice rink, not even half as inconspicuous as he may think he is.

“Who’s here?” Yuuri asks, already dreading the answer.

“Your secret admirer,” Phichit replies, amused.

Yuuri groans. “ Phichit-- ”

“ Yuuri ,” Phichit interrupts. He plops down besides Yuuri on the bench, getting ready to rehash this well-worn conversation once more. “Yuuri, he’s literally here every time you hold classes.”

“He’s here’s even when I’m not holding classes,” Yuuri points out, moving to finish tying up his skates. “Yuuko said so.”

“Yuuko also said that he never stays as long when your not here,” Phichit retorts.

“And?”

“He’s totally here for you, Yuuri,” is his friend’s pleased conclusion. “You can see it in his face. He’s infatuated.”

“Phichit.”

Phichit shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

With a sigh, Yuuri finally finishes with his skates and looks out towards the rink.

There, like always, is mystery man, gliding seamlessly across the ice like he was born to be there. It’s beautiful. He moves with the grace of a professional figure skater--or just someone with lots of practice under his sleeve. For a moment, Yuuri thinks their eyes meet right before the man moves into a flawless quad salchow.

It has to be Yuuri’s imagination.

What would someone like him, with his lush silver hair and bright blue eyes, want with someone like Yuuri.

“You’re overthinking this, Phichit,” Yuuri says, standing up from the bench. His students and their parents are already starting to gather around the rink.

“Am I overthinking it, or are you?”

Yuuri doesn’t answer.

::x::

“... and a new hero has been spotted today after apprehending a group of robbers ...”

::x::

If anyone asked, Yuuri couldn't say where his powers came from.

They seemed like such an integral part of his childhood growing up. His mother could lift three crates of supplies without breaking a sweat. His father could pick up his fully grown children like they weighed less than paper. Mari broke plates from holding them just a bit too tightly.

And Yuuri? He could run farther, and longer, than his peers. He could practice jump after jump at the rink--maybe not always with accuracy, but certainly with enough energy to spare. Sometimes, when he got injured, he could barely feel a thing.

It was incredible. It was scary. It made Yuuri think that’s what he had his powers for--to simply go on with his life like the rest of his family did.

It was Grand Prix who showed something him so much more than that.

::x::

The first night Yuuri went out on patrol was daunting.

It was also a massive failure.

His costume was barely a costume. His mask was cut crudely out of black fabric. All he had to fight with was himself, some extra strength and stamina, and a lifetime of dance lessons.

Still, the perpetrators--a couple of simple purse snatchers--get away with their prize tucked under their arms and barely a scratch.

Yuuri sulks and thanks whatever god above that the encounter never makes it to the news

::x::

It’s another month before Yuuri tries again.

In that time, Yuuri signs up for defense classes. He figures having this bit of experience under his belt is much better than being completely unprepared, and he practices day by day and night by night. He fixes a suit from a ice skating costume he ordered but never got the courage to use in a routine. He even finds a weapon--some metal pole that Yuuri thinks he and Phichit used for the shower curtain at some point.

That second night on patrol, Yuuri makes sure he’s prepared.

That second night on patrol, Yuuri stops thugs from harassing some women in an alley, lays them out of the police to find, and flees the scene.

It’s the most exhilarated he’s felt in years.

::x::

Yuuri nearly chokes on his breakfast when he reads the newspaper the next morning.

A NEW HERO APPEARS , the headline reads. JUST WHO IS THIS VIGILANTE ?

He knew recognition for his heroic acts would come eventually, he just didn’t think he would make front page on the first day.

Yuuri reads the article once, twice, three times over thinking, maybe, that some other upstart hero had also decided to make their debut that night. But, nope, that was the crime he stopped, those were the mugshots of the criminals he caught, and that was most certainly a blurry image of himself hopping the fire escape.

The writer, a Hisashi Morooka, states high expectations for this new hero.

Yuuri suddenly doesn’t want breakfast anymore.

The newspaper is being plucked from Yuuri’s hand before he can realize it.

“What’s this?” Phichit asks, eyes already skimming through the words.

“It’s, uh-- Well--” Yuuri stammers. He knows, realistically, that there’s no way anyone can tell that’s him from that picture. It’s too unfocused, too far away, but he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe--

“Oh, I get it,” Phichit says.

Yuuri freezes.

“Another one for the collection, right?”

Yuuri breathes out in relief, then blinks in confusion. “Um... What do you mean?”

“I mean that he’s your type.”

“Huh? My type?”

Phichit waves his hand in the hair, gesturing to some invisible, bolded headline. “Yuuri Katsuki, Hot for Justice!”

“Oh my god.”

::x::

The public gives him the name Eros.

It probably has something to do with his skin-tight black costume. And his use of pole dancing moves as he works with his staff.

Yuuri’s not sure how he feels about that.

He keeps every article of Eros he comes across and ignores Phichit’s smug little remark of, “I knew it.”

::x::

It’s all because of Grand Prix that Yuuri began taking ice skating seriously.

To his 14 year old mind, that was the way he could feel closest to his hero. He would watch it on the news, on Youtube--clips of Grand Prix creating ice platforms where he’d glide and jump between each one with clean grace. It was a perfected art form, one no doubt much more difficult than the usual ice skating.

Still, Yuuri took what he could.

And it’s not as if he was a stranger to the sport, either. Yuuri took classes casually for years, and Yuuko was incredibly passionate about everything to do with ice skating. They would spend hours at Ice Castle Hasetsu, practicing jumps and copying routines for fun. If Yuuri wasn’t in Minako’s ballet studio, he was in the rink, on the ice.

He’ll admit his interest waned when Yuuko’s family moved.

Hasetsu had fallen on hard times in the years. Tourism was low, and many places were closing from a lack of income.

Ice Castle Hasetsu was one of them, and when that went, so did Yuuko’s family.

Yuuri and Yuuko exchanged emails all the time. She would ask about Hasetsu, Yuuri’s family, Vicchan and Takashi. He would ask about her skating, her family, and Sternbright--the large, multicultural city funded by multiple governments. It was supposedly a very large, very futuristic place. Yuuko described it has pretty, but not quite as ‘futuristic’ as people claimed.

Not long after Yuuko, Takashi’s family followed. Yuuri found, even with the light teasing, he missed the boy all the same.

A couple years later, Yu-Topia Katsuki closes. It is the very last onsen to go.

The Katsuki’s move out to Sternbright to live with extended family, where they work the family owned restaurant. Yuuri is then saved by Grand Prix. He becomes interested in skating again, and he participates in local competitions, but he never goes professional or international.

It’s all history from there.

::x::

Things go a little wrong one night when Eros gets caught up in a large scale bank robbery.

He tried his best to stick to small crimes, still too new to the hero business to take on more serious things. The petty thief he can handle. A group of thugs he can handle. An overconfident, rookie gang he can handle.

A big group with big guns and a lot of hostages may be much more than he’s ready for.

But he can’t exactly just sit back and watch, can he?

Eros manages to sneak around, incapacitating and knocking out a few of the men patrolling. It’s not enough. A gunshot rings out, and Eros just barely manages to duck away from a bullet. He gets into stance, prepared for a fight. He’s sure he must look confident, but inside the situation worries him. Eros has dealt with guns before, but those were mostly small handguns, and they certainly weren’t heavy artillery like these. Not to mention that he had to make sure the hostages were safe--

There’s another gunshot, but by the time Eros realizes it’s much too late to dodge.

Behind him, Eros hears the soft crackle of ice, feels a cold breeze at his back. When he turns, the bullet is unnervingly close and encased in ice.

Grand Prix slides in with a grin.

“A little help?” He asks, playful.

On the inside, Yuuri may be freaking out. Just a little.

On the outside, Eros smirks and says, “Try to keep up.”

Between the two of them, the robbers don’t stand a chance.

::x::

“... after a thrilling team-up, is it possible that we have a superhero duo on our hands? ...”

::x::

Grand Prix drops Eros off on a nearby rooftop.

The ride from the bank to the roof was smooth, and Eros still feels a lingering warmth along his side from where Grand Prix held him close. It’s almost too much. Grand Prix is just as beautiful as he remembered, donned in his pink and gold suit--the city’s shining light, its golden trophy. The man currently plastered all over his bedroom wall is here, once again, in the flesh.

It’s almost like a dream.

Yuuri feels a little giddy.

“You know, I intended to meet you sooner,” Grand Prix starts, hands slipping from Eros’s waist. He misses the touch already. “That’s not quite how I imagined it, however.”

“It can’t be helped,” Eros says. “Especially in this line of work.”

Grand Prix chuckles. “That’s true. It was nice to finally meet you then, Eros.”

“Same to you, Grand Prix.”

Eros watches as Grand Prix waves and turns to leave. He doesn’t know what posesses him to reach out and grab the back of his long-time hero’s costume.

“...Will we see each other again soon?” He asks. Yuuri hopes his blush isn’t too obvious from under the mask.

Grand Prix stares, then smiles.

“Like you said--it can’t be helped.”

And then he’s gone.

::x::

That night Yuuri climbs back through his bedroom window.

He stuffs his face in a pillow and hopes to God that it wasn’t just a cruel dream.

::x::

It isn’t.

::x::

Yuuri is grateful to Yuuko for getting him a teaching job at the ice rink.

The pay isn’t grand, and he wouldn’t say he’s exactly the best teacher, but not many people in the world end up getting jobs doing things they love. He’ll take the opportunity while he still can.

Mystery man is always there in the afternoon, right before Yuuri’s after school sessions start.

Yuuko told him how the man is a popular topic among the rink’s staff. He’s a bit of an enigma--no one knows his name, age. Not even his shoe size, since he always brings his own skates. Apparently, he’s been coming to the rink for years. At least once a month. And he never talks to anyone--just skates for a few hours and leaves.

Yuuri found it hard to believe. After all, the man had been showing up for weeks.

“Hm. I wonder why that is?” Phichit asks, sarcastic.

“Because he likes to skate,” Yuuri replies, not to falling for the bait. “The way he skates takes years of practice. I find it hard to believe he wasn’t already there all the time.”

The both of them are sitting in Yuuri’s bedroom, where Phichit basically barged in covered in his hamsters. Yuuri is holding his favorite one in his palm, softly petting it with his finger. The rest of them are horrible escape artists who often betray Yuuri’s trust.

“Well, if you want my opinion--”

“--I don’t want--”

“--I think you should give it a shot.”

“Phichit, please,” Yuuri groans, starting to get frustrated with this conversation.

“Yuuri,” Phichit says. But there’s no teasing in his tone this time, no jokes, no insistence. He leans forward to gently cup Yuuri’s knee--a comforting move that lowers Yuuri’s defenses. “I’m not saying these things to torture you. It’s just...”

Yuuri finds himself to afraid to look his friend in the eye.

“It’s just what?” He dares to ask.

“It’s just...” Phichit hesitates. “It’s just that I think mystery guy might be more accessible than the other person you have in mind.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Yuuri knows exactly who Phichit is talking about. Their face is plastered all his wall, after all.

“You’re probably right.” Yuuri responds, voice quiet.

Still, it hurts to hear all the same.

::x::

The thing is, Phichit doesn’t know that Grand Prix is a lot more accessible than he used to be.

Grand Prix and Eros--they talked to each other. They fought side by side. They’ll probably be seeing a lot more of each other in the future. Yuuri is suddenly on the same playing field as the man he idolized for years, tossed into the spotlight by a hero-fanatic city.

The media, the public, Grand Prix--they no doubt expected great things from their new hero.

And that was the problem.

Yuuri Katsuki didn’t have amazing powers. He was strong, but he couldn't lift a car over his head. He ran fast, but he can't move at the speed of sound. He had so much energy, but that just meant he was less likely to get more tired than most.

His weapon was a goddamn shower pole, for fuck’s sake.

There was a reason he stuck to fighting smaller criminals, a reason why he only worked at night and stayed close to the shadows. It was the same reason his first big fight almost went completely haywire.

He could’ve died if Grand Prix hadn’t swooped in to save him.

What kind of hero was he if he had to be saved by someone else?

Eros was smoother and more confident than Yuuri, but he was still a dime a dozen hero--nothing spectacular in the end. Disappointment loomed in the horizon like a heavy cloud, coming slowly for the inevitable day people realized Eros was a sham.

And it’s that realization--the one where he remembers his dream is only temporary--that affects his next decision.

::x::

It’s a bad decision.

A very bad, very poorly thought out decision.

How does one ask out a man they don’t know and have never talked to? It’s impossible, isn’t it? Yuuri can’t help but think of everything that could go wrong. What if he embarrasses himself? What if Phichit was mistaken, and the man really wasn’t here for Yuuri at all? That’s a bit presumptuous to assume, isn’t it?

And yet, here Yuuri was, a good hour before his next class, ready to ask out the gorgeous mystery man who may or may not like him.

Yuuko stops him just as he turns around to walk away from the edge of the rink.

“Oh no you don’t,” She says, pushing him back towards the barrier. “You’re going to get out on that ice and get yourself a hot date even if it’s the last thing you do.”

“But Yuuko...”

“Don’t ‘but’ me, Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuko puts her hands on her hips, staring him down. “The only other time I’ve seen someone look so smitten was when Takashi was still trying to hide his crush on me.”

Yuuri snorts at that.

Yuuko touches his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. Her smile is gentle and encouraging. “Just remember. No matter what happens, it’s not the end of the world.”

It sounds so easy when she says it like that.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, calming some of his nerves, and steps out onto the Ice.

He doesn’t go straight towards mystery man. Yuuri figures he can take his time, if he’s going to really try and do this. Instead, he takes a moment to simply skate, gliding close to the barriers. He maneuvers past first-timers and couples, not thinking about anything but his movements. Yuuri lets his mind empty--he doesn’t think about mystery man, about Yuuko or Phichit or even Grand Prix. It’s blissful, losing himself like this.

Then he looks into bright blue eyes, which are suddenly much closer than than he expected them to be.

Yuuri runs straight into the barrier.

He thinks he’s ready for death now, because mystery man most certainly saw that.

“Are you alright?” Someone asks. He’s almost too afraid to look up from where he hangs his head in shame. Yuuri looks up anyway because he likes punishing himself.

Mystery man is standing right there, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

God, he’s even prettier up close.

“Are you alright,” he repeats. “You haven’t hurt yourself, have you?”

“No. I’m fine,” Yuuri mutters, although he really isn’t all that fine. He’s sure his face is tomato red in embarrassment. “I’m... Thank you for asking... I’m just going to... get off the ice now...”

Yuuri moves, ready to hide away in the locker room until his class starts.

A hand grabs him before he can get very far.

“Wait,” mystery man says. If Yuuri didn’t know any better, he’d think he sounded... nervous? “I’m Victor. Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri blinks, shocked. “Oh, um, I’m Yuuri. Katsuki Yuuri. I mean, Yuuri Katsuki.”

Victor nods.

They stand in awkward silence.

Yuuri gulps. “W-Well, I’d better--”

“Would you like to get coffee with me after your class?”

If Yuuri was simply shocked before, he’s stunned now.

“It’s alright if today isn’t good for you,” Victor continues on. “But soon, maybe?”

“I...” Yuuri nods. “I... yeah, no. I mean yes. Today is fine. Perfectly fine.”

Victor smiles. “Great! I’ll see you after, then.”

And then he’s gone.

::x::

Yuuri couldn't stop thinking about what happened.

He thought about when he finally dragged himself off the ice to greet his students. He thought about it as he went over today’s lesson. He thought about while performing a simple jump--and completely flubbing it. He thought about it as he said goodbye to his students, untied his skates, and finally dragged his body out the locker room after pinching himself. Multiple times.

He’s going to get coffee with mystery man.

He’s going to get coffee with the gorgeous, mysterious man, Victor Nikiforov.

Maybe he should just pinch himself again, one more time.

::x::

Victor isn’t quite what Yuuri expected him to be.

Yuuko always made the man seem so far away--an oddly untouchable creature that skates like music flows through his body and smiles like he’s hiding 20 secrets.

The both of them go to a cafe close to the rink. Yuuri had only been there a few times before. The lighting was low, pleasant, and the smell in the air was heavenly. They each order--Victor getting a latte and a danish, Yuuri getting hot chocolate and a croissant. They find a small table by the window.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Victor says after taking a sip of his drink.

Yuuri stutters, not quite sure where he should start with a question like that. It doesn’t matter. Seeing Yuuri’s distress, Victor asks more specific questions--easy things, like how long Yuuri’s been skating, other hobbies, his family.

It’s surprisingly easy, talking to Victor. It might the way Victor leans forward, eyes rapt in attention, like he was endlessly fascinated by the things Yuuri had to say. Like he was hanging off every word, every phrase--as if Yuuri was living life as more than simply an ice skating instructor.

(Well, as far as Victor knew, that’s all Yuuri’s life really was.)

Yuuri learns things about Victor too. He finds out that his job is demanding, which is why he used to barely appear at the rink before. He learns that Victor moved to Sternbright when he was 7, although he avoids mentioning why, and Yuuri doesn’t ask. He learns he’s 27 years old.

He learns that Victor has a dog, Makkachin, who the man could gush about almost endlessly. Victor shows Yuuri just a few pictures of the thousand or so that he has.

Yuuri keeps to himself, that Makkachin reminds him of Vicchan.

They talk until the sun begins setting.

“I should get going,” Yuuri says, looking out the window.

“So should I,” Victor says. He slides his hand across the table, lightly brushing his fingertips against Yuuri’s hand. The touch is cold. “Can we do this again soon, Yuuri?”

Yuuri flushes, looking between Victor’s face and their touching hands.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Victor smiles, blinding.

They get up, throw away their cups and wrappers, and say their goodbyes at the door.

::x::

Yuuri knows he had a good time.

So why doesn’t it feel that way?

::x::

That night, Grand Prix finds Eros as he sits on a rooftop, looking over the city lights.

They’ve fought together two more times since that first night, but there was little time to talk--not with the media there to interview Grand Prix and trying to catch sight of the elusive Eros.

Right now, however, there was a moment of peace. No media, no criminals, no cries for help. Eros watches as Grand Prix raises himself on an ice platform, which melts away as soon as he hops off onto the roof.

“Isn’t this a nice surprise,” Eros greets with a smirk. “Has the Grand Prix himself come to grace me with his presence?”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Grand Prix quips back, smiling.

Then they just... chat. None of the information they give is personal. Nothing to give away their identities. They gossip about other the other heroes they occasionally run into on duty. They talk about police, the news, some of the more weirder crimes they’ve stopped. Grand Prix, however, does ask where Eros learned to work a staff like he does.

(“Wouldn’t you like to know.” “I would love to know.”)

Conversation gets quiet, and words lull. They sit in silence, staring at the place they both protect.

“Hey, Eros.”

Grand Prix’s demeanor turns from smiling to solemn. Eros nods, and stares. It’s a change from the charming persona he knows. This man is much different from the who smiles in front of cameras.

“Why did you become a hero?”

Because of you , he almost says. But, no. That info’s too much. Maybe one day, but not now.

Eros keeps his gaze on a skyscraper.

“Someone saved me, a long time ago,” he tells Grand Prix instead.

“A bit cliched, don’t you think,” Grand Prix remarks, snide.

Eros snorts. “Maybe it is, but... that’s okay, isn’t it? Without them, I would’ve been aimless, wondering if these powers of mine were just there to be... there. Useless.” He clenches his fist. “I’ve always hated feeling weak, after all.”

“Huh. I didn’t take you for the type to think yourself weak.”

“And would know much about me?”

Grand Prix sits in thought.

“I guess not,” he says, final. “It’s about time we got back to our patrols, isn’t it.”

They stand, turning to face each other.

“I’ll see you soon?” Eros asks, although he already knows the answer.

Grand Prix smiles, lifting Ero’s hand to his lips.

“Of course.”

::x::

Victor is at the rink the next day, right before Yuuri's classes, just like he usually is.

When they spot each other, Victor waves and smiles a large, heart shaped smile.

::x::

Yuuri wishes Grand Prix would make it easier for him to let go.

#victuuriweek #yoi #yuri on ice #au prompt #day three #fic #kay writes

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fanniwrites · 8 years ago

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Title: Mornings Alone (Was it Like This Before?) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Word Count: 589

Summary: With nothing better to do, Victor makes breakfast.

Ao3

Victor wakes up cold in the morning light.

He brushes his hair, his teeth. He gets dressed to take Makkachin out on her morning walk. He comes back to his empty apartment, and he wonders if it had seemed so big when he first bought it--so devoid of life.

With nothing better to do, Victor makes breakfast.

Opening the fridge brings him back to last year, before he had made that life-changing trip to Japan. There’s a carton of eggs, a small gallon of milk, ingredients for a salad and some fruit. Food that was meant more to get by than to actually sustain him. Nothing that he particularly felt like eating.

Makkachin whines behind him with her bowl in her mouth.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, Makkachin,” Victor says as he closes from the fridge, egg carton in hand. The smile on his face feels stiff. “Papa will feed us both right now.”

Victor puts food in Makkachin’s bowl, softly pets her brown curls as she gobbles down her food. He moves to grab a pan, a bowl--some of the few used items he had in his kitchen. He thinks about the few times he helped Hiroko in the kitchen, less there to actually cook and more to grab things off high shelves. She always looked in her element, hands moving expertly to make delicious food for her family and guests.

It feels a bit like sham to cook now that he knows what it looks like when someone actually cares about their kitchen.

He makes some toast, lays that and his eggs on a plate, pours a glass of water.

Makkachin lays by the front door, waiting.

Victor sits at his table, alone, to eat breakfast.

It’s not the first time he has, but everything seems so much more quiet now. There’s no soft voices, the quiet sounds of Hiroko and Toshiya going over important paperwork.There’s no Mari and the lingering scent of cigarettes from a morning smoke. There’s none of the faint, distant bustle of guests waking up for the day.

There’s no Yuuri, walking through the door, breathless from his morning run. Yuuri, who would smell of sweat and the salt of ocean spray. Yuuri, who would sit right by Victor’s side as they eat breakfast, discussing their plans for the day.

Yuuri, who is currently all the way in Japan for at least two more weeks.

Victor is jolted by the feeling of Makkachin’s paw on his knee. She whines as she stands on her haunches, sniffing along Victor’s chin.

He blinks, bringing a hand to his cheek.

There are wet streaks on his face.

He hadn’t realized he had been crying.

Victor laughs, a wet sound, because these past months have probably been the most he’s cried in a long time.

He lifts his head at the sound of his phone vibrating beside his plate, and he quickly picks up the video call at the sight of Yuuri’s name.

“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice comes through, echoing in the empty apartment. Makkachin perks up at the sound. She hops around, excitedly barking. Yuuri smiles and laughs in response.

The smile falls when Yuuri sees Victor’s face.

“Victor, are you alright?” He asks, concern lacing his voice.

Victor breathes out a quiet chuckle, wiping at his eyes to dry up the tears. He notices Yuuri is wearing one of the shirts Victor left in Japan, and he smiles, wide and delighted, at the sight.

“I’m feeling much better. How are you, Yuuri?”

#victuuriweek #yoi #yuri on ice #yuuri prompt #day two #fic #kay writes

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fanniwrites · 8 years ago

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Title: In Which a Working Man Quickly Becomes Smitten Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Word Count: 1,166

Summary: Victor Nikiforov was in need of a new secretary.

Good thing circumstances bring him Yuuri Katsuki.

Ao3

When Lilia Baranovskaya barges into Victor’s office one day, her personal assistant hot on her tail, he really doesn’t know what to expect.

Not that Victor wasn’t happy to see her. Much like Yakov, she had always been somewhat of a second parent to him, even after the tumultuous year-long divorce battle. So he greets her warmly as she waltzes in unannounced, ever graceful in her old age. They peck each other on the cheek and, in true Lilia fashion, get straight to business.

“I can’t stay long, I’m afraid,” she says, shaking her head as the offered seat. “I’ve just come to get the secretary arrangement settled.”

Victor tilts his head, confused. “Secretary arrangement?”

“Yes. The arrangement for your new secretary.” Lilia crosses her arms and raises a sharp eyebrow in question. “I assumed Yakov had already informed you about this.”

Victor thinks back to his overflowing inbox. He’s been so swamped with work, all priority has been going to emails that required immediate responses. Yakov’s emails were always a mix of important files, upcoming meetings, and chiding Victor on his inappropriate behavior. It can be excused that Victor simply skimmed over an email like that, much like many others that were currently sitting unread. The smile on his face is probably not as innocent as he’d like it to be.

“He probably has,” Victor tells her, flippant.

“Well, allow me to inform you properly then. I’m sure you’re aware of my upcoming retirement?”

“Of course, Lilia. Although I can’t see what that has to do with secretaries.”

“Let me finish,” she chides. Victor nods for her to continue. “Since I’ll no longer be working, I want you to take on my assistant as your secretary.”

Lilia moves to the side, revealing her aforementioned assistant, who had seemed content to hide behind Lilia’s back for the whole time. She gestures for him to step forward. Which he does, hesitant and doing to best to look everywhere but directly at Victor.

Victor knew Lilia’s personal assistant, of course. Ever since the man was hired, it was hard to catch Lilia without Katsuki following closely behind, tablet in hand. Sadly, Victor has never really talked to her assistant. Whenever he tried, Katsuki always scurried off, there and gone again. Victor strived to be a friendly face in the company, so the hasty retreats stung a little.

“Yuuri has done nothing but work hard for me. I’m sure you’ll find him a great help to you, if you’ll have him.”

Katsuki’s eyes are still flitting around the room, and Victor taps a finger to his lips, thinking. He’s not sure if having a secretary who seems so skittish around him is a good idea.

At least, he wasn’t sure until Katsuki finally, finally looked at him with large, brown doe eyes of his.

“So, how early can Mr. Katsuki start working?” He asks, smile bright.

::x::

Yuuri Katsuki starts working almost immediately, and Victor can’t say he was entirely prepared for what was to come.

Within two days, Victor has had unimportant emails cleared of his inbox, all upcoming appointments updated on his calendar, and all the paperwork on his desk neatly organized. Everything Victor has been behind on suddenly seems much less suffocating, and for the first time in a month Victor goes back home with no extra work under his arm.

He thinks Katsuki might be an angel, heaven sent.

Now if only Victor could actually get Katsuki to talk to him.

Not that they didn’t talk at all. Whenever Victor came into work, Katsuki was at his own desk with a good morning at his lips, a list of obligations for the day, and any calls that had been put on hold. Beyond that, Katsuki doesn’t say anything else in the mornings, still too skittish to look his new boss in the eye.

(Which was a shame. Katsuki has nice eyes.)

(Victor wonders if he’s allowed to think that about his secretary.)

A little over a week after Katsuki starts working, lunch is being brought directly to Victor’s office.

It’s a bit of a surprise when, one day, Victor comes back from a quick meeting with Georgi to find a bag from a nearby sandwich place sitting on his desk. He sifts through the bag to see a warm panini, some sort of potato soup and a bottle of water.

Normally, Victor is content to only eat a bag of chips from a vending machine for lunch, if he even eats anything at all. Of course, there are times where Yakov or Chris or any other coworkers invite him to go get food, and Victor does, but he’s never found a problem simply waiting until he gets home for his next meal.

Victor peeks out the door of his office, looking towards his secretary’s desk. Katsuki is working quietly, typing away at his computer. An empty bag from the same sandwich shop sits in his trash bin.

“Excuse--”

Katsuki squeaks, practically jumping out of his seat at the sound of Victor’s voice. His face is red, and he’s stiff where he stands.

Victor blinks. His secretary is a bit jittery sometimes, but he had yet to get a reaction like that.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you while you were busy.”

“No! It’s fine! It’s just--,” Katsuki averts his eyes, fiddling with his glasses. “Nothing. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Nikiforov.”

You can look at me, for one. “I was just wondering if you’re the one who left food on my desk, is all.”

“Oh. That. W-Well, the thing is... I kind of... Yes, I did. I just..” If possible, Katsuki turns even redder, struggling to find words. Victor waits patiently for him to continue. “I-I noticed that you don’t really eat during lunch, and you work such long hours so I thought... I mean, my mom always thought eating well was important and... Oh god. I’m sorry. Let me move the food from your office. I should have asked first, I--”

“No, it’s okay,” Victor says, raising a hand to stop Katsuki from moving past his desk. At some point during the explanation, Victor found a smile forming on his face, endeared. “You’re right. I should be eating better. I appreciate you bringing me lunch.”

“R-Really?”

“Of course. Thank you.”

For a moment, it’s silent. Victor watches the nervousness of his secretary’s face turn into something softer, shyer, and punctuated with a small, pleased smile.

“I’m glad then.”

Victor excuses himself, letting Katsuki get back to work and sitting at his desk so he could eat his own lunch. The panini isn’t as warm anymore, and he can’t say he’s incredibly hungry, but Victor finds himself eating every bit of the food bought for him.

As he chews, he thinks about Katsuki’s expression as Victor thanked him.

It was the first time he’d ever seen Katsuki smile around him.

He’d very much like it if it wasn’t the last.

#victuuriweek #yoi #yuri on ice #au prompt #day one #fic #kay writes

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