Chapter Text
In hindsight, the day Viktor Nikiforov is asked to moved out of Russia to coach Yuri Plisetsky is the day Viktor realises he is never going to understand how teenagers work.
But hindsight is 20/20, as they say.
He’s known Yuri for a few years now, and he still doesn’t understand how that boy’s mind operates.
Viktor promised he’d coach Yuri after he’d won five World Championships and Yuri won the Junior Grand Prix. With those requirements filled, Yuri had slouched up to him and said, “We’re moving.”
Viktor, for the life of him, can’t figure out why they don’t just stay in Russia. Where they already have a rink.
Yuri just looks at him like he’s stupid and slouches away.
Probably to pack, Viktor thinks.
Next, he had specifically requested that Yuri pick a place relatively close to the rink - so they don’t have to go too far to get to it - but also located somewhat close to town. Yuri, being Yuri, decided that they will be living one door over from the rink, which is great for Yuri because, as Viktor is so eloquently told, “That means there’s no running to the rink every day, goddammit.”
Being super close to the rink, however, means that they are super far from town . This makes Viktor incredibly annoyed; now, if he wants to drink, he’s going to have to do it in front of his student because the bars are so far away. In retaliation, Viktor makes Yuri do the groceries, which leads to grumbling from the teen as they have no car, so if he’s sent for groceries, he either has to walk or take the bus.
What Viktor is presently struggling to understand is why Yuri is grumbling when it was the teen’s decisions that lead to their current situation.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, we have no food, asshole. What else would I mean by saying ‘we have no food’?” Yuri growls, flopping dramatically onto a couch cushion that had been haphazardly dumped onto the floor.
Viktor faces Yuri from his spot leaning on the kitchen door frame. Or facing the general direction of where he thinks Yuri is. It’s kind of hard to see where the boy landed in the current mess that is their house, what with all the boxes scattered everywhere.
That would also probably explain why they have no food.
“You’re sure we have no food? I thought I brought some instant food over,” Viktor muses, crossing his arms. He suspects Yuri hasn’t bothered to check any boxes and he just gave up from the exhaustion of moving in and assembling his bed, but is too stubborn to say anything about his current physical state.
Yuri’s sigh is answer enough for Viktor, who gracefully starts picking his way through the incredible amount of crap stacked and scattered everywhere, and slowly makes his way over.
“Come. We’re going for groceries!” he says when he gets to the general area of where he remembers putting down the couch cushion that Yuri is probably sulking on.
“Why do I have to go with you? Don’t you know where the store is?” Yuri whines, voice slightly muffled.
He’s probably cuddling deeper into the Team Russia sweater of his , Viktor thinks, amused.
“Because!” he replies sunnily. “I told you to get food while I was looking at the rink! And you didn’t!” Viktor claps his hands and starts making a shooing motion in the general area of where he thinks Yuri is. Instead of a sullen teenager, he gets an over-excited poodle leaping around his legs. “Besides," he’s tired and hungry and why won’t Yuri just listen to him for once and he tries to keep himself calm by patting Makkachin’s soft head as the poodle noses his leg. “Makkachin wants to go for a walk! Would you rather keep him company instead of shopping with me?”
Another sigh reaches Viktor’s ears followed by the sound of movement, and suddenly, Yuri rises from the floor like a particularly angry cat and glares at Viktor. “Fine. I’m up, asshole. Happy?”
“Thrilled! Now let’s go!” And Viktor drags Makkachin out the front door to encourage Yuri to hurry up.
The evening is still warm enough that Viktor doesn’t need a sweater, the late summer sun just setting in the distance. Makkachin’s tail is wagging as fast as it can go beside him, the dog looking around and enjoying the breeze from the nearby river.
When Yuri finally shows up, he’s still wearing his red, white and blue Team Russia jacket and looking unimpressed. “Let’s go,” he mutters, before taking off down the road.
Viktor follows him for about a half a minute before realising Yuri’s going the wrong way. Stopping abruptly, he watches Yuri speed off, Makkachin following for a while until he notices Viktor has stopped. After he’s reached the end of the block, Viktor calls out to Yuri’s retreating figure “Oh, Yuri! The town’s this way!”
The look Yuri gives him is enough to make Viktor smile for the rest of the silent walk to the shops.
The trip to the shops turns out to be worthwhile. Viktor gets to know Yuri’s favourite foods and manages to start planning some dishes he can make that uses most of them in some kind of healthy way (pirozhki are not the stuff Viktor wants Yuri eating). He gives Yuri a list of the basics he wants and vanishes to the spice aisle, which is empty except for one black-haired man.
There’s nothing spectacular about what the man is doing; he’s a young man standing in front of a selection of powders.
But his movements.
Oh god.
Viktor thinks that he’s never seen anyone make the tedious decision of selecting a spice look like an art form. Before his staring can get too creepy, Viktor forces himself to walk past the man, who’s still moving with an incredibly natural grace in the arms, and start selecting spices.
Satisfied with his choices, he turns and walks out of the aisle, trying to see if he can find where Yuri wandered off to. Throughout his tour of the store, he manages to find a few more items that he figures he can eventually use. But no Yuri.
With a sigh, he searches through his pocket to pull out his phone. Hopefully, this will be one of those rare times Yuri actually bothers to reply to a text. It would make Viktor’s life just a bit easier.
You: Where are you?
Angry Kitten: I paid and left because you took too long
Viktor smiles and heads over to the cash, where he runs into the guy from the spice aisle. His glasses magnify his beautiful brown eyes slightly, and Viktor’s heart definitely does not give a slight skip at the friendly smile the guy flashes at the cashier before collecting his groceries and leaving.
When he finally leaves the store, Viktor is greeted by a “glad to see you didn’t get lost” from Yuri.
“I missed you too, kitten, don’t worry.” He ruffles Yuri’s hair, getting an angry “What the hell!?!” from the teen before he turns to the poodle sitting at Yuri’s feet and crouches to rub Makkachin’s head. “And I missed you even more, Makkachin!” he exclaims, before burying his face in his soft fur.
“Ugh. Why are all dog owners like that ?” He hears Yuri mutter from above him as he straightens up. Choosing to ignore the comment, Viktor turns to Yuri and gestures to the bags strewn around their feet.
“You take the groceries. I’ll take Makkachin.”
“Why do I have to take them?”
“You’re younger,” Viktor replies, heading back to the street. “And besides, lifting these will help you keep your strength up for training. After all,” he pauses, turning to face Yuri, who has picked up the heavy bags and is now trailing after Viktor like a sad dog, “don’t you want to win your Senior Debut?”
Yuri’s glare is enough of an answer.
“Good! Start by carrying those bags back then,” says Viktor. He strides up the street, feeling the wind gently tease his hair as the last of dusk slowly sinks towards the horizon.
The entire walk back to the house is silent, similar to how the walk to the store was. As they head home, Viktor lets his mind wander to Yuri’s programs and how he’s going to make this boy win. He’s been Yuri’s rink mate for a few years now and knows he has incredible potential and the drive and determination to win. With the added quads to his repertoire this year, Viktor knows that Yuri’s win will come from the execution of a difficult program.
They arrive back at the house just as ink starts to creep across the sunset sky, chasing away the warm orange colour with a summer breeze.
“We should open the windows, let the house air out for a bit,” Viktor muses as he shuts the door behind them and Makkachin, excited about being back, sets off across the room, weaving amongst the pile of boxes scattered across the living room.
“Or how about you make dinner and then I go sleep after taking a nice bath?” Yuri snaps back from the kitchen, angrily rustling the bags as he takes out the groceries.
At least he’s putting the groceries away, Viktor observes.
“Open the windows, Yuri. And did you grab cat and dog food?”
Yuri’s eyeroll can be heard by Viktor, who’s making his way towards the kitchen to start rustling up some dinner.
“Yes. I can follow simple directions.”
“Good! Prove it to me by opening up the windows and feeding Makkachin and your cat,” Viktor replies, shooing him out of the kitchen with a sunny smile so that dinner can be made before they both pass out from malnourishment and exhaustion.
A few minutes later, as Viktor is preparing some borscht with some slices of fresh bread, he feels a cool breeze race through the house and knows that Yuri’s finally got the windows open. The song of crickets fills the mostly silent house, and Viktor feels slightly warm despite the late hour and cool temperature.
“Dinner!” he singsongs when the soup is finally prepared. Yuri is in the kitchen half a beat later, looking as eager as he ever lets himself look. Half a second later, he’s frowning as he glances around the kitchen.
“..Do you expect me to eat on the floor? And share with you?”
Viktor hesitates for a moment, letting a smile slowly grow on his face as he wracks his brain for an answer.
Come on, Viktor, think! he panics internally, what would be a good excuse for not eating out of an actual bowl - oh. Okay!
“We’re eating out of the same pot! It’s important for a coach to know your eating habits and how you eat soup. It also helps bond! And a stronger bond between coach and skater means you’re more likely to win!” Viktor smiles brightly at Yuri and offers him the first bite. After all, that’s the right thing to do when sharing a pot of soup - let the one who didn’t make it eat it first.
He might have been raised unconventionally, but let it be known that Viktor Nikiforov’s parents made sure that he at least had manners (and even that is still up for debate within his family, last he heard. Which was about ten or so years ago).
Yuri looks at Viktor like he has suddenly sprouted three heads. “I’m not sharing with you. I’d rather starve than eat out of a pot with an old man like you.”
Viktor looks at him for a moment and then shrugs. “Your loss. But don’t blame me if you don’t win.” He’s about to take a spoon of soup when the pot is ripped from his hand.
“Fine. Give me that.”
Yuri starts angrily eating the soup as if it has done him a personal wrong. Since there are no chairs (yet), they sit on the floor, cross legged, facing each other. Viktor sits and watches Yuri aggressively inhale the food, mind churning on how to create Yuri’s winning program.
He breaks the silence by asking if Yuri has managed to feed their pets. When Yuri gives no outward reaction, Viktor assumes he has and they fall back into silence.
A few minutes later, Yuri hands Viktor the half eaten soup with a gruff, “Here. I’m going to take a bath and sleep.”
“Good night, kitten! Sleep well!”
“At least I don’t have to worry about my back giving out from sleeping on the floor, old man,” comes the expected snarky reply before Yuri leaves Viktor sitting on the floor of the kitchen, eating soup out of a pot.
There’s a light padding of feet as Yuri grumbles his way through the mess in the living room and then Viktor hears the bathroom door slam shut and a pitiful mrow. The house falls silent almost immediately, save for the gentle gust that wafts through every so often and the song of crickets outside.
The next morning, after Viktor hauls Yuri out for a run, he and Yuri walk over to the ice rink, Makkachin happily trotting behind them. They’re at the rink in moments, and when they finally walk into the main lobby after fighting the hoards of fans there to try and see JJ train, the same man who was at the rink yesterday greets them from behind the desk.
“Good morning!” Viktor says, and the man - Takeshi? - evidently remembers him from yesterday’s conversation about using the rink to practice since he greets Viktor by name and pulls out a folder labelled “Viktor Nikiforov,” handing it over so Viktor can sign the papers inside.
“I talked with J.J. Leroy about sharing the rink. He agreed but asks that you don’t bring anyone who isn’t necessary for practices to the rink. He’s very picky about who he lets see his practice.”
“Of course! Wouldn’t want to reveal the secret of his programs before the competitions, right?” Viktor says with a wink, signing his name with a flourish and handing over the folder back to the man - Takeshi, he thinks, he’s sure of it - who hands over a binder.
“Please sign in every day you come. We’re not always sitting here, but the binder always will be.”
Viktor picks up the pen and signs ‘Vitya <3’ under what looks like a messily scrawled ‘King JJ’ with a crown doodle next to it. He hands the pen over to Yuri, who signs what is probably ‘Yuri P’ but looks more like a badly written ‘Yurt’.
“Great! Thank you! Skate well!” Takeshi says, waving them off.
Viktor herds Yuri towards the change rooms with a light touch, saying, “You’ll be doing basic training for today!”
“BASIC TRAINING?!? YOU MEAN I’M NOT GETTING ON THE ICE TODAY?”
“You are, kitten, don’t worry. You’ll be on the ice later on in the day after basic training! It’s good to refresh your muscles with basic training after not doing it for a while - it gives them a chance to remember how strong they are, which will help you win the Grand Prix Final!” Viktor pats Yuri on the shoulder before sending him to the training room.
When Viktor gets his skates on and steps out onto the ice, JJ is already on, clearly having been on long enough to cover the ice in criss crosses from his warm ups. His coaches aren’t paying attention to him at the moment, heads bent close together as they discuss something.
“Well, if it isn’t Viktor Nikiforov himself! Fancy seeing you in these parts, eh? And as a coach too, to boot!” JJ calls, catching sight of Viktor and skating over.
Viktor smiles and meets JJ. “Thought it would be nice for a change of scene.”
JJ gives his patented fake laugh. He opens his mouth to continue, but is cut off by a sharp “JJ!” from across the ice.
“Well, that’s me. Good to see you again, Vik. But it’d’ve been better to see you in competition.” And with a wink, he skates off.
Viktor stares after him for a second before pulling out his phone and headphones. Before leaving for the day, he had created a playlist of possible songs that might work for Yuri’s programs. Yuri prefers songs that are fast and full of very obvious passion, flaring up quickly and brightly, much like Yuri himself. The best way to keep the audience on its toes - and help Yuri branch out to all styles of music - is to go in the completely opposite direction.
The first song, Eternity , starts off with quiet piano, which continues for about a count of eight before opening up with the main vocal theme. Immediately, Viktor feels a calm peace drift over him as he skates around, reacquainting himself with the feeling of the song. As the song proceeds, Viktor begins to realise that this will be a perfect challenge for Yuri, as this piece requires a much more delicate approach than the world is used to seeing from him. He skates to a stop as the piece finishes, having a rough idea of where the music softly asks for a jump. Then he runs through the rough choreography, managing to time the jumps perfectly and flawlessly.
“Yo, Vik! Looks like you’ve still got it, eh? Those jumps were flawless!” JJ calls from across the rink, where it looks like he was watching Viktor’s little impromptu performance.
He nods as he skates off to the side to take a bit of a breather to record his thoughts and the order of the jumps he’s come up with. When that’s done, he takes a some time to watch JJ run through some of his stuff.
He’s not too bad, Viktor thinks. He’s slightly sloppy going into his jumps, but the sloppiness will be fixed as he learns the jump order.
JJ launches into a quad Salchow next as Viktor stands and watches. He lands it a bit roughly, having over rotated, and has to touch the ice to stop himself from falling, but overall it’s a good jump. After watching JJ do one more jump, he puts on the next song, Elegy for the Arctic.
The music starts off with a haunting low note and slow moving eighth notes that gradually melts into runs. It’s different from the last piece, which was calm, almost lullaby like; here, there’s a slow moving feeling of anger, passion, and helplessness, sprinkled with a touch of hope that Viktor hopes Yuri will pick up on and turn into an incredible work of art that simmers with overflowing emotion, rather than boiling with it.
Once again, he twirls to a stop with the end of the song. He’s exhausted; his chest is heaving and a fine layer of sweat covers his body. As the next song starts playing softly, he hears faint applause from the other end of the rink. Startled, he takes his earphones out and blinks for a second before realising it’s JJ and his coaches. Immediately, he puts on his press smile and gives a bit of a wave.
“That was good, Vik! But JJ’s style is better!” JJ gloats from the other side of the ice. He’s reprimanded with a smack upside the head from the female coach - Viktor believes it might be his mother, if he remembers what he heard in interviews correctly - and he turns to face the pair of coaches to whine.
Viktor smiles and skates back over to the side to write down the rough idea of this piece and get some water. He knows he needs at least a half hour to get back most of his energy in order to go over both of these pieces one more time before he can bring Yuri in. He could stay and watch JJ – they’re all going to be at the same rink, so it’s inevitable that they’re going to see each other’s programs before competitions – or he could go and annoy Yuri. Viktor’s tempted – extremely tempted – to just sit on this bench, no matter how hard and uncomfortable it might be, just so he doesn’t have to move.
God, he’s gotten old.
Instead, he drinks some more water and then takes a deep breath, forcing his still-cooling-muscles to work again as he stands, and heads off to the training area.
When he gets there, Viktor is not shocked to see Yuri’s headphones covering his ears as he runs through the basic training routine. Viktor thinks he must be on his second run of the routine, which is perfect, timewise, for Viktor to recover his strength before calling Yuri in to see the choreography. As he waits for a pause from Yuri, he hears some commotion coming from the rink area, where JJ is still practicing. A moment later, a male singer’s voice fills the rink, faintly carrying over to the training room where Viktor can hear it. It’s soon supported with keyboard, piano, and strings before fading to a series of piano chords that are then joined by the strings, guitar, drums, and the vocals once more.
Oh, he’s already going to start putting the program together? Viktor thinks, crossing his arms in front of him.
Looking at where Yuri is still doing sit ups, Viktor’s eye is caught on the bag Yuri brought in, which contains his skates and the Team Russia jacket that the boy loves but will never admit to folded nicely next to it. But beside that, Viktor sees a water bottle with "Ice Castle" on it (which he doesn’t remember seeing before) standing guard next to Yuri’s things. Before he can ask about it, Yuri stops his sit ups and takes a breather in between exercises.
“Ah, Yuri,” Viktor says, “After you’re done here, come join me out on the ice.”
He gets no reply.
Teenagers and their loud music, he thinks.
“Yuri!!!!” Viktor calls, much louder than before. This seems to do the trick as Yuri looks up with a “Huh?” as he takes his headphones off. “After you finish this, come join me out on the rink.”
“Finally,” Yuri grumbles. “I was starting to think you had forgotten about me back here. Again.”
“Me? Forget about such a lovely and charming boy like yourself? Not possible!” Viktor shrugs off the harsh but subtle reminder of the time he forgot about Yuri at the airport on their flight over and turns to head out. Before leaving, he pauses, airily comments, “But I suppose I could be tempted to forget about that boy if he doesn’t want to win!” and then continues out the door.
Yuri’s responding snarl gives him enough to smile about.
After skating through the first program again, he takes a breather as he stands by the edge of the rink. JJ is off at the moment, taking a break, so he pushes off towards where the sound system is so he can hook up his phone. Letting his eyes wander across the ice, he spots a black-haired man talking to JJ about something. He’s wearing the Ice Castle Employee shirt, which has the same logo on the back that was on the water bottle found next to Yuri’s belongings, and… there’s something about him that feels familiar, like Viktor has seen him before.
Shrugging, he pushes the thought from his mind and gets the system set to go. Pressing play, he skates to the middle of the rink and glides across the ice, reviewing the order of the jumps in his head and the approximate area where he wanted them. He skates through the first song, that peaceful song, so subtle with its desire and yet so hauntingly beautiful.
With the vocals tumbling over themselves and building and growing and changing and pushing Viktor to the end, he skates to a stop when the music slows down, so gradually, as the vocals fade out. He is back where he started, hands extended, to create a long line with his body as the same music starts up again.
It’s good. Yuri can grow this so much, he thinks, panting, as he brings his arm down and skates over to turn off the still looping music before gliding over to get some water. As he’s taking a breather, he reviews the next piece’s rough choreography before skating back over to the sound system and starting the process all over again.
When he turns the music off this time, Viktor puts the two pieces in a playlist and takes the remote with him. He’s still winded as he glides across the ice, heading back to where his water is located.
“Ah Yuri!” he greets when he spots him. He must have shown up while Viktor was skating.
Yuri sits up as he finishes tying the knot on his laces; he completes his impatient scowl with his skates on and an eager look in his eyes.
“Do two laps of stroking and two of crossovers, one lap forwards and one lap backwards of each and then I’ll give you the music and the choreography.”
Yuri looks at Viktor like he’s lost his mind. “Crossovers? I’m not a junior, old man. I don’t need to do crossovers.”
Viktor merely arches an eyebrow, issuing a silent challenge. Yuri huffs and takes off.
Yuri, naturally, hates the music.
Viktor can tell this based on the “WHAT?!? WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? WHO WANTS TO SKATE TO THIS OLD STUFF?!” that gets screamed in his face by the boy.
Viktor simply smiles and says, “The winner of the Grand Prix Final does.” It’s unclear, even to himself, if he’s talking about himself as the current winner of the Grand Prix, or if he’s talking about Yuri being the next winner. But Yuri clearly wants to show that he knows what Viktor’s talking about, even if a confused look flashes across his eyes, so he doesn’t push the matter further.
After Yuri skates through the routines once (falling would probably be a better word for what actually happened, but Viktor knows this is just the first skate through and isn’t worried), with JJ cheering obnoxiously in the corner, Viktor knows the programs are perfect. All he has to do now is time it so Yuri can peak in the Worlds, while also winning the Grand Prix, and he’s done his job.
“Ok, Yura! You’re done for the day,” Viktor calls. Yuri grabs Viktor’s phone from where it has been attached to the sound system this entire time, and gets off the ice.
A moment after Yuri has joined Viktor on the bench and started undoing his skates, the same music from before filters over the speakers. Viktor doesn’t have to be rinkside to know that JJ is starting his skate through again.
When Yuri is finally out of his skates and Viktor is packed up, they head toward the exit. The same employee who spoke to JJ before comes in, carrying a pair of skates in one hand while talking to someone on FaceTime, and passes them as they walk out to the lobby. Viktor actually does a double take because holy shit it’s the same guy from yesterday night at the store. He feels his heart skip a beat again when he realises it, and oh God is he having a heart attack (he can’t be, he’s too young!) because there is no reason whatsoever for his heart to skip beats.
“Yuri, you go ahead and start prepping tonight’s meal. Make sure you make extras for tomorrow’s lunch,” Viktor says, abruptly stopping and starting to turn back to the rink.
“What? Why do I have to start? What are you doing?” Yuri demands.
Viktor pauses and looks over his left shoulder. “I think I forgot something. I’ll be home in five minutes.”
Yuri grumbles under his breath - Viktor catches words like “dramatic”, “annoying”, “do everything” - before he turns back and keeps walking out the doors.
Once he’s sure Yuri is gone, Viktor takes a steadying breath and walks back into the rink. JJ is just getting off the ice as the mysterious employee starts warming up, doing a couple of laps around the rink. Viktor walks back to the bench where he and Yuri had piled their bags and takes a look around. Seeing nothing, which was to be expected, he hikes his bag up higher on his shoulder and retraces his steps.
“Hey, Vik!” JJ calls out to him as Viktor meets up with JJ and his coaches, “Interesting music choices.”
“Bye, Yuuri! Thank you again!” JJ’s mother calls out from behind JJ, effectively cutting off Viktor’s reply, and waves frantically to the man on the ice - Yuuri - before poking JJ, who’s forced to call out good night as well. Yuuri, who has migrated over to the sound system and has just taken his glasses off - Viktor’s heart stutters to a stop before frantically picking back up again - waves good night.
Viktor follows the Leroys, making sure he is the last person out of the rink to sneak another look at Yuuri.
The man is so beautiful, Viktor might actually cry.
Before he can get to such an emotional state, he forces himself to leave the rink and goes home.
Yuri is rifling through a box, trying to find something, his skating bag discarded by the door, muttering to himself as his cat - “Chubak, old man. I’ve only told you this four times. You should know it by now.”- winds around Yuri, shedding white fur all over his workout clothes.
“Yuri! Are you looking for plates and cutlery?” Viktor asks, locking the door behind him. He puts his bag next to Yuri’s and leans against the wall to take his shoes off.
“No,” Yuri mutters, frustration leaking into his voice. “Why is none of this shit mine?”
“Well,” Viktor begins, “you are looking in one of my boxes.”
Yuri recoils from the box as if it burns him. “That explains all the old man stuff. Surprised there’s no back brace and cane in here.” He moves to the next box, this time making sure it’s his before he opens it.
“You know, we should probably unpack this weekend. We’ll take a day and just clean,” Viktor muses, tapping his chin. “It’ll be nice to not eat out of a pot.”
“Yea. It’ll be swell to not have to share with a geezer.”
Viktor rolls his eyes and starts moving through the room, looking for a box labelled “eating”. At least, he thinks he labelled it.
He hopes he did.
When he finally finds the box he wanted, Yuri has already left the room to go to his bedroom. With a sigh, Viktor stands outside Yuri’s door and knocks. “Dinner’s on in 30 minutes, Yura. In the meantime, you can get the program songs from my phone if you haven’t already and start preparing for your ballet lesson tomorrow. I want you to know those songs so well you can sing them in your sleep!”
There’s a muffled shout and a dull thud as something hits the wall before crashing to the floor and Viktor smiles and goes off to rummage for food.
This process continues for a few weeks; Viktor drags out a grumbling Yuri for a morning run.
Viktor forces a healthy meal into Yuri before they go to the rink.
Yuri skates.
They half watch JJ as Viktor corrects Yuri before Viktor demonstrates.
They take a snack break.
Yuri does a bit of dry land review, under Viktor's watchful eye.
They take a break for lunch.
After lunch, Yuri skates, they correct, Yuri skates and they review.
Viktor sees Yuuri across the rink, they take another snack break, Viktor gets a “HEY ASSHOLE. I’M THE ONE YOU SHOULD BE WATCHING. NOT SOME NAMELESS EMPLOYEE!” screamed at him (in Russian) while they do more dry land training.
Viktor watches Yuri before getting distracted by Yuuri, gets yelled at until it’s time to go home.
Yuri listens to the program pieces again and again while Viktor makes dinner.
They eat.
Yuri goes to ballet lessons while Viktor keeps reviewing the notes and footage collected from the day’s practice.
Viktor takes Makkachin out for a walk to pick up Yuri (“I’m not a child, I don’t need to be picked up!”), and they have a quick snack before Viktor falls asleep to the sound of Yuri singing under his breath.
All in all, it’s not bad; every day, Viktor gets to watch Yuri grow a bit stronger under the harsh program he’s crafted and see Yuuri. Viktor wouldn’t mind having this kind of life for a bit longer.
Of course, life usually has other ideas in mind.
~04:27~
You: Chrissdf!?
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: typing...
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: Isn’t it very early for you, knudel?
You: How do U get All the pretty boySs??
You: You sent a picture
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: Who’s the pretty boy you’re after now?
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: Well, I don’t send pouty pictures at 04:30
You: He’s so preettty I think i’m in lobe
You: *loBe
You: * lov
You: e
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: typing...
You: He’s so handsomee and he can sakte and his body moves like music and Chris he’s so perfec t
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: C’est la vie, knudel. Does he even know you?
You: typing...
You: Nop one but u knows mw e, dorogoi moy.
You: ((((((((((((((((((((((())()((((((((((((()((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: Well, start by introducing yourself to him.
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: No one can resist having Viktor Nikiforov courting them for very long, after all.
It changes on a Monday.
Because Mondays are shit! Who invented Mondays?! Viktor is going to hunt them down and throttle them so they can also share in the mind numbing, mother of all headaches currently giving birth to a whole flock of little headaches behind his eyes, holy shit.
He's spent the weekend unpacking with Yuri.
Okay, well, a more accurate statement would be that he had spent the weekend unpacking, while Yuri had tried to help, got annoyed when Viktor touched his stuff, and then stormed off to the rink, singing his pieces under his breath.
On the bright side, now they have a table, chairs, and plates, and Viktor no longer has to deal with an aching back from sleeping on the floor.
So, to celebrate, Viktor left Yuri alone for the evening, and went to a nearby bar. Nearby, of course, meant 30 minutes away on foot, because Yuri obviously hates Viktor enough to make him live so far away from the good stuff.
All in all, he had a pretty good night. So good, in fact, Viktor can’t remember how and when he got home.
Or what happened that makes him feels like he got hit by a truck.
Or why there’s someone who looks very angelic standing over him, the morning light going straight into his eyes and blinding him. The angel moves, and suddenly he’s being hit in the stomach.
“Get up, you old fart! If I have to run, you do too!” comes the grouchy voice of Yuri Plisetsky from the lips of the supposed angel.
Well, Viktor has been mistaken before.
“Ahh, stop. Okay, I’m up,” Viktor says, weakly, batting Yuri’s fists away from his stomach and sitting up. “You go for the run. I’ll see you at the rink.” Viktor waves his arm in the general direction of where he thinks Yuri might be.
There is something working out in Viktor’s favour today, since Yuri doesn’t answer and simply leaves the room. Viktor lets out a sigh before flopping out of bed and crawling on protesting limbs over to the pile of clothing he normally wears to the rink. He’s going to have a rough day today.
Getting ready is… a struggle. There’s no other way to put it, even in the privacy of his own mind. He struggles to get ready, but manages, eventually, with much groaning, and then hauls himself out to the rink, after packing about 12 bottles of water.
Yuri is on the ice, running through his programs and glaring at JJ whenever the other skates by, when Viktor struts through the rink door. He’s managing to stand upright and on his own, and he knows his hair probably looks bad, but he’s feeling 50% better than before, which is… an improvement.
“Yuri! Try that quad flip once more! Your free leg could use a bit of work!” he calls, going over to a bench to put on his skates. Before getting on the ice, he drinks a bottle of water and then, noticing Yuri still hasn’t mastered the quad, demonstrates it.
“Got it, kitten?”
“That isn’t my name!” Yuri spits, skating to a stop next to Viktor.
Viktor ruffles his hair, looking down at Yuri. “Shall we skate?”
Yuri looks back blankly. “We are.”
“No, Yura! Let’s skate through it together.”
Yuri rolls his eyes but acquiesces with a nod.
By the time the day has wrapped up, Yuri has managed to skate through his short program without messing up any of the elements.
“Your entry could use a little work, and you could be more graceful and flowy. I’m going to talk to Lilia about working on your flexibility, your free leg, and arm movements more. Don’t look at me like that, kitten. We need to work on timing your peak,” Viktor says, trying to usher Yuri off the ice before remembering his phone and skating back to get it.
“See you guys tomorrow, eh?” JJ calls, pausing at the side of the ice. “And, Yuri, good job actually being on your feet today.” With a hearty laugh, JJ steps off the ice, heading to the change rooms, leaving Yuri doing a bad impression of a spitting kitten behind for Viktor to deal with.
Viktor laughs at Yuri’s expression, which, in less than the blink of an eye, has turned from spitting fury to dark clouds on a stormy day and is visible from Viktor’s position near the sound system. When Yuri’s glare hits Viktor, he sends a grumbling Yuri off to the shops with a cheerful wave.
By the time Viktor has cooled off, Yuri has just left, leaving a pile of garbage from today’s lunch behind, next to Viktor’s stuff. Which is fine, Viktor’s perfectly okay with picking up after Yuri; it’s not like he gets paid to keep an eye on the smartass.
So anyway, Viktor’s walking towards the rink doors, heading home, and he’s fine, and, more importantly, he’s still upright until -
Suddenly he isn’t.
And there’s a vocal stream of chatter right next to his ear.
It’s hitting him so fast he can’t process the individual words, just sounds, and it’s so overwhelming and just noise and it’s speeding up and he can’t keep up and his brain is struggling and -
“-you okay?”
Viktor blinks up at another angelic figure hovering over him, the bright lights of the skating rink hurting his poor eyes again, and then suddenly the figure’s shadow falls over Viktor’s face and he’s looking right up into the eyes of… the man from the store. The employee.
Yuuri, his brain helpfully reminds him.
Blearily, Viktor pushes himself up, “Yes, I - ”
And they crash heads.
“Ow!”
“I’m so sorry - ”
“No, that was totally my fault; I-I-I don’t have my glasses on and I should know not to take them off until I’m on the ice but Mr. Leroy has just - ” Yuuri cuts himself off with startled gasp as he clambers to his feet before continuing, frantically, “Mr. Leroy was just in here! Did he see you?”
Yuuri’s voice fades out again as Viktor finally manages to sit up all the way. He rubs the back of his head, looking up at the current cause of the new batch of baby headaches being birthed, and the only stream of thought going through his head is “Yuuri is talking to me!” on loop, over and over and over.
It’s an interesting feeling, one Viktor’s never felt before - that feeling when the brain just gets tunnel vision on an idea, and a phrase just keeps circling around and around like a song where only one line of the lyrics is known, and the rest of the world is cut out.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there, listening to this idea run around his brain like a deranged hamster on a wheel, but suddenly, he registers a lack of sound and blinks, looking back up into Yuuri’s face.
“Oh... uh. No, I don’t.” It’s a half hearted reply, but Viktor is too busy trying to figure out how to react to the fact that the beautiful person who he hasn’t been able to get out of his head for the last three weeks is actually talking to him to pay attention to what he’s saying.
“Well, if you want to start learning, we offer beginner skating lessons. You should come back when the rink is open for them!” Yuuri comments.
Shit, Viktor thinks, what did I just get myself into?
Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong with Viktor, who’s still sitting on the ground, skating bag abandoned, and keeps chattering on. “Well, if you go to the front desk, you can talk to Takeshi, who’s probably still there, and he can get you all the information you need about lessons. Oh! And about our skate rental program. I’m sorry, but I have to start preparing for tonight’s lesson so - ”
“Of course! I’m terribly sorry about all this,” Viktor says, finally pulling himself together.
He’s about to clamber to his feet when a hand is thrust in front of his face. Instinctively, he reaches out, grasping the proffered forearm and grabbing his bag as he stands.
I’m never washing this jacket again, Viktor thinks, marvelling at the spot which Yuuri has just released from his grasp, feeling as if the white space on the sleeve has a permanent outline of Yuuri’s hand.
Yuuri squints at Viktor, very adorably, before saying, “Have we met?”
Not officially, Viktor thinks.
“I don’t think so. I’m-”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m... mistaken. I’m not wearing my glasses and I can’t see very well without them, ha ha...” Yuuri laughs weakly, putting on fingerless gloves. “Anyway, just talk to Takeshi. We’ll be more than happy to have you join us!”
He extends his hand to Viktor, who takes it. Yuuri’s glove feels soft against his fingers, and his fingertips are cool against his palm.
“Thank you! I look forward to it!”
Yuuri removes his hand from the grip, and Viktor finds himself grasping for something that isn’t there and that will probably never be there again. Seeing his hand flounder, he quickly brings it back to his bag strap.
I’m never washing this hand again either, he thinks. Not the healthiest of moves, but Yuuri just touched his hand.
“Have a good night, sir, and I hope to see you join Ice Castle’s Skating program!” Yuuri chirps, waving before turning and stepping onto the ice.
Viktor, in a daze, goes out to the front desk, where he finds himself enrolling in private beginner lessons with Yuuri, to the obvious surprise of Takeshi.
When he finally manages to stumble home, he’s greeted by Makkachin, who weaves between his legs as he tries to make his way to his room. Yuri isn’t in yet - probably still in town, getting food for the week.
“Oh, Makkachin!” Viktor gushes. He’s being super dramatic, he knows, but Yuuri is so beautiful, he feels like it’s deserved drama.
Makkachin flops on the bed beside him, snuffling under Viktor’s arm before moving and lying on top of Viktor instead, who exhales a gust of air as the dog’s weight settles on him completely. He buries his hand in the fluffy fur.
“He’s so wonderful and kind! And the way his body moves on the ice! It’s like he’s making music.” Viktor sighs and falls still, mind on nothing but Yuuri’s movements on the ice.
And maybe a few thoughts about those movements in a bed with Viktor slip in.
Viktor is still lying on the bed in the same position when he hears the door open. Makkachin, possessing that sixth sense that all dogs seem to have when it comes to whether or not someone is at the door, has gone to greet the person, who is probably Yuri getting back from the trip to town.
“OI! VIKTOR!” Yuri shouts. It sounds like he’s in the kitchen, as the yell is followed by the sound of things slamming shut and the fridge being yanked open roughly. A few minutes later, there’s a shadow falling over Viktor. “Get up and make dinner, asshole. I schlepped all over town to get this food, I’m not fucking making it.”
“But Yuri! He’s so beautiful !” Viktor gushes. He turns his head to look up at Yuri, mustering up the most heartfelt sad look he can, trying to gain sympathy for his cause.
“Who?”
“The gorgeous Ice Castle employee! The one with the pretty eyes! And the beautiful, soft looking hair!”
“Who?” Yuri asks again, impatience leaking into his voice.
“His name is Yuuri, too! What a strange coincidence!” Viktor muses with a sigh. “He’s more beautiful up close than I could have ever imagined.”
Yuri rolls his eyes and starts to walk out of the room. “Whatever. I’m going to go study the music again.”
“But Yuri!” Viktor exudes, stopping Yuri in his tracks. How can he even think about something as plebeian as food and music at a time like this? “The skin of his hand touched my jacket! I’m never washing this jacket again!”
There is a violent shudder before Yuri turns back to face Viktor. “You’re disgusting.”
Viktor is unable to do anything but smile a huge heart-shaped smile in response. His mother, back when he was young, often commented that his smiles had so much love that in order to fully express it, his mouth had to become heart shaped to help get the feeling across.
Yuri clearly doesn’t agree with this idea as he rolls his eyes before moving towards the door.
Viktor turns to Makkachin, who padded in with Yuri. “Oh, Makkachin, you understand, don’t you?”
“You’re pathetic!” Yuri throws over his shoulder, punctuating the sentence with a slam of the bedroom door as the poodle barks once, tail wagging furiously on the floor as if trying to polish it.
“You’re right. I should go before Yuratchka dies of starvation.”
With a sigh, he hauls himself to his feet, crawling out of the nest of bedding he made in his dramatic state, and heads out to make dinner for his starving student.
About two hours later, after Viktor struggled to try and find something to mix together with the meagre offerings Yuri picked up at the store and after eating said dinner, Viktor tells Yuri that he’s staying at the rink later tomorrow. He doesn’t mean to let it be known why he’s staying at the rink later, but it somehow comes out that he’s taking beginner lessons with Yuuri.
Yuri, unsurprisingly, doesn’t take the news well.
He throws what essentially can be considered a tantrum, spewing verbal profanities, insulting Viktor, slamming doors, and making some very harsh yet truthful observations about Viktor’s coaching abilities.
Viktor knows all the words flung at him are supposed to push his buttons and make him hurt, which Yuri never usually manages to do, but this time, the boy makes several good points. As much as Viktor would like to brush off all the comments - he knows that Yuri will be fine because, well, he’s got enough drive and determination to fit into two people and still have enough left over for himself - he knows Yuri has a point.
It’s the end of June, which explains Yuri’s restlessness; the Grand Prix assignments will be released any day now, and he’s so desperate to win that he’s started getting up earlier for his runs and meeting Viktor at the rink in order to squeeze in more practice time. Viktor hears Yuri singing the pieces all the time now, and he’s sure that Lilia, who Yuri has been with for about a month, is ready to scream if she has to listen to the pieces one more time.
(He knows he is.)
Even thoughViktor might not be worried about Yuri’s performance, half the battle with figure skating is being confident in yourself. If Yuri feels that he needs more from Viktor, Viktor, as his coach, should step up and help his student by providing extra training and support.
The next morning, Viktor goes down to the rink with Yuri as Makkachin bounces around their feet, thrilled at being taken out for a second walk. When they sign in, JJ has clearly already gotten in, as there’s his usual sign in of “King JJ” next to a doodle of a little crown above Viktor’s line - however, when they walk into the rink, there’s no sign of the other skater.
“Go and get ready, Yuri. We’re starting with a quad review and then we’re launching into your programs!” Viktor sends Yuri off to the changing room with Makkachin as he goes to the rinkside benches.
A figure dressed in practice gear whirls around the ice, so totally lost in the movements and choreography while creating music where there is none. As Viktor gets closer, he realises that it’s Yuuri.
He really should have known when he started feeling the nonexistent music.
Completely enthralled, he realises he doesn’t want to ruin this silent spell that Yuuri’s casting over him, so he slowly approaches the side.
Yuuri skates across the ice so fluidly it’s like he’s become part of the air around him. He skates from an outside spread eagle before launching himself into a triple axel, and the entire jump is performed so effortlessly that it feels almost logical that the axel turns into a combination with a double loop.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there in silence, watching Yuuri; all Viktor knows is that he somehow has to convince this man to skate competitively. There is a need in him to see Yuuri in full costume with a cheering crowd supporting him that Viktor wants realised, and -
“SO, THE PUNK’S IN A GOOD MOOD TODAY, EH?” Comes the booming greeting, echoing across the ice and bouncing off the rink walls.
He’s startled into turning around at that exclamation, which announces JJ’s arrival, similar to the way a fanfare introduces a king. JJ waltzes into the rink with his skates on, his coaches trailing behind him.
Viktor has never wanted to punch someone more in his life than he wants to punch Jean-Jacques Leroy in this instant.
“Good morning, JJ,” Viktor greets flatly when JJ comes to a stop in front of him.
“Good to see you again!” JJ says, stepping closer and getting into Viktor’s space. “I have to say, I’m impressed with what you’ve done with that punk’s form. He’s coming along!”
Viktor refuses to show any emotion in the bland smile he presents to JJ. “Thank you, JJ, that -”
“Of course, he’s nowhere as good as I am! Nothing beats JJ Style, after all,” he crows, his fingers digging into Viktor’s shoulder with impressive strength. “Right, well. I’d best be off, eh? Long day. Lots of practicing.” With another squeeze of his fingers, he releases Viktor’s shoulder and heads off, leaving Viktor blankly staring after him.
By the time Viktor remembers to turn around, the ice is empty.
“One more time, Yuri!” Viktor calls, neatly skating out of the way of the incoming JJ. “Don’t let the falls distract you; remember, it’s not how you land the easy jumps, it’s how you get yourself out of a bad hole! The judges don’t care that you can’t land a quad toe every time - they care about the fact that when you don’t land that quad toe, you don’t let it distract you and pull you out of the focused headspace.”
Yuri abruptly skates over to Viktor and snowplows to a stop in front of him, spraying snow everywhere. “Since when were you such a model coach? Don’t tell me that stupid employee you’re gone on is watching." He looks around suspiciously before adding, "It's the only reason I can think of as to why you'd be such a model coach."
Viktor looks back at the scowling face calmly. “One more time, Yuri. And watch that free leg!”
Yuri huffs before resuming the trouble spot he’s currently working through. It’s a quad salchow triple axel combination, something he’s done before, but seems to be having a bit of a mental block with today.
It happens sometimes. Viktor’s not worried. He knows Yuri will be nailing it tomorrow.
Yuri, however, doesn’t seem to know this and continues to stress out about not landing the combination. Which only increases his frustration at not landing it, which makes him not land it even more… it’s a vicious cycle, one that Viktor is intimately familiar with.
Viktor watches, arms crossed and pointer finger tapping his chin in time to the short program music, as Yuri sets up for the combination. It’s not playing over any sound system, but he knows it as well as Yuri does after listening to it for a month.
Right on beat, Yuri launches himself into the air, rotating once, twice, three times, four times before reconnecting with the ice. He barely touches the ice before he’s off again, doing a half rotation and skating into the triple axel with all the force of a blizzard. He rotates, once, twice, three times, three and a half, before he crashes to the ice, stepping out of the landing.
It’s absolutely incredible for Viktor to watch, because Yuri makes no verbal noises of frustration. He just makes a disappointed face and glides over to Viktor, who dismisses him for the day.
“Tell Lilia that you need to work on your jumping.” Viktor instructs, skating off the ice with Yuri, who is currently giving off dejected vibes.
“Fine. Whatever,” he snaps, stepping off the ice to dry his skates using a towel Viktor so generously hands him.
The walk back to the house is silent, save for Makkachin’s excited panting and the evening’s serenade of crickets and wind. When they walk back in, Makkachin immediately takes off across the living room, making a beeline for Chubak, who hisses before darting away and jumping nimbly onto the couch, his white tail curling around himself. Yuri dumps his bag in its usual spot by the door and collapses dramatically on the couch.
Viktor takes things a bit slower. He pauses at the door and balances against the wall, sliding his shoes off, before making his way into the kitchen and rummaging up chicken and potatoes with a side green salad.
“Yuri,” he says, later, putting down a steaming plate of food on the table.
Yuri looks up from his contorted position on the couch. “Oh, finally. I thought I would die before you finished.”
Viktor smiles coldly as he heads back to the kitchen for his own plate. “You could always help out, you know.”
“What good would that do?” comes the remark, barely audible over the noise of Viktor moving cutlery around.
Luckily, Viktor's hearing is good enough to catch it.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe make the food you so desperately seem to crave appear faster?” Viktor looks down at Yuri and tilts his head to the left.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to help if you actually did things instead of thinking of that stupid employee,” Yuri grumbles, sitting down at the table.
“I wouldn’t think of Yuuri if you actually managed to hold my attention with your routine,” Viktor retorts, sitting down and beginning to calmly prepare himself a forkful of food.
Any response Yuri might have made is completely drowned out by the enthusiasm with which he devours the food on his plate. Viktor knows it’s not the most gourmet meal Yuri’s ever eaten, but at least it’s well received.
(Even if that reception is mostly driven by hunger and not by taste. Still, they say it’s the thought that counts, right?)
Yuri breaks the silence with a demanding, “I know you’re old, but why do you have to eat so slowly?”
Viktor finishes chewing. “We all can’t eat as quickly as you, Yura. Besides, you should know by now that eating quickly isn’t good for the b - ”
“Yea, yea, I know. You’ve mentioned it like 400 times.” Yuri rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair. “Just hurry up already. I don’t want to be late.”
“But kitten! Don’t you want to spend time with your aging coach? After all, this might be the last time you see him!” Viktor sing songs, finishing his food and settling lower in his chair.
Yuri’s reply is in the form of a scowl as he stands up abruptly and clears the table. “I’m doing my dishes and leaving.”
Moments later, there are aggressive movements in the kitchen, and then the water turns on. True to his word, Yuri has only cleared his part of the table, so, with a reluctant sigh, Viktor clears the rest off and deposits it next to Yuri, who reaches out, grabs the next plate and aggressively starts washing it.
With an overly dramatic sigh, Viktor leans against the counter, arms braced in front of him and looking out the window at the last whisperings of dusk are overtaken by the inky night.
“Yuri,” he says, breaking the silence they’ve fallen into, “do you think he’ll like me?”
“You’re still going on about this?”
“He touched me! That must mean something!”
“It means he was trying to get rid of you,” comes the deadpan reply as Yuri puts the newly cleaned dish onto the dish rack to dry before reaching out for the pot. “Stop overdramatising everything. You’re not Georgi.”
The mention of Georgi brings an unfamiliar stab of some feeling into Viktor’s stomach. It doesn’t stay long, so he forces it from his mind, trying to focus on tonight’s lesson with Yuuri.
“Don’t say that, Yuri! If he was trying to get rid of me, why would he offer lessons?!” He bends his arm upwards and brings his head to rest upon it.
“To increase business. Seriously, how can you think there’s another reason?” Yuri snaps, his wet and soapy hand reaching out to grab the last pan from where it rests next to Viktor’s elbow. He brushes it as his hand passes, and the cold, wet feeling that starts to spread from his elbow is eerily reminiscent of the feeling currently spreading through Viktor’s gut.
“Fine. How do I get him to like me though?” Viktor whines.
Yuri puts the last plate away before turning off the water. “Why don’t you ask Mila or Georgi? You know. Someone who actually cares.”
Viktor ponders this for a moment. Yuri has a point - he’s only fifteen, which means he does not have a lot of experience with this kind of thing. Chris would be an excellent consultant for his dilemma.
“Anyway,” Yuri breaks the silence again. “I’m going. Don’t fuck up, you coward; I don’t want to have to move rinks because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”
Viktor understands the sentiment.
With a final point, Yuri slams the front door behind him as Viktor sets off to find his phone.
Chris has some assisting to do.
~18:30~
You: Chris, I need advice.
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: typing…
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: What did you do now? You know Yuri’s just angry. Being so far away from home probably doesn’t help.
You: It’s not about Yuri.
You: Okay well, it’s about A Yuuri, just not the kitten.
You: And I might have signed up for figure skating lessons.
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: Let me see what I can do to help, then.
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: Wait, skating lessons?
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: Why do you need lessons?
You: typing…
You: Beginner ones.
You: Because Yuuri’s teaching!
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: Oh, knudel...
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: If he’s got you signing up for beginner lessons, you’re probably going to be just fine.
❤️️ SEXXY BOY ❤️️: The real question is how are you going to fake not being able to skate?