Katsuki sits cross-legged, clearly in no hurry to go anywhere. “What’s your name? I’m –”
“I know who you are,” he cuts him off, then blushes, then hates himself for both those things. Katsuki looks surprised, and Yuri can’t think as to why. He’s a nationally ranked figure skater. He’s Yuri’s favorite figure skater.
Yuuri and Yuri become friends and Viktor develops a crush.
AU in which Yuuri still doesn’t remember the banquet, somehow doesn’t blow Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor at the World Championships, and has absolutely no idea why his idol is suddenly friendly and incredibly handsy.
Does Yuuri care about his reasons? No. It’s Victor Effing Nikiforov.
Basically this is an excuse for total fluff.
And porn.And shit-talking with bonus smut. (Edited for accuracy.) Happy birthday, Victor.
Yuuri stared at the man. He looked at their entwined hands—he hadn’t wanted to pull away—and their thighs, pressed together despite there being plenty of room in the backseat of the cab. That scent of Victor’s cologne—just a dab, lightly applied somewhere on his neck—swirled around him. This was too real to be a dream, too physical for him to have imagined it.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said slowly. “But…have we talked before?”
It's hardly a secret that Victor Nikiforov is a massive player.
(In which Yuuri doesn't blow the Grand Prix Finals the first time round, does blow Victor, and everything changes but ends up the same.)
Yuri Plisetsky glares at him with all the righteousness five year olds possess, and says in heavily accented and clumsy English. “Be more gooder, stupid!”
And then he storms out in a sweep of blond hair and blue and red lights from his Sketchers.
(Or: in which everything is the same but Yuri Plisetsky is Victor's bratty five-year-old child.)
- Part 1 of on life and love;