The fact that in between rampant ghosts, trying to solve this Gozer puzzle, and public appearances to engender goodwill Victor found time to ask that lovely man whose eggs exploded (for seemingly no reason) on his counters to dinner and drinks was nothing short of miraculous. Katsuki Yuuri is beautiful in an unassuming yet disarming way, with his glasses and perpetually windswept black hair. He has the sweetest eyes Victor’s seen since Makkachin, his smile lights up the room, and he’s just perfect.
Victor knocks on his apartment door expecting a cute sweater and jeans, mussy hair, and a grin like sun rays filtered through windows.
The door opens and he’s greeted by Yuuri in all black body-hugging pleather with mesh covering part of his torso, his hair gelled off his face, his nails painted the shade of an oil slick, and his expression nothing less than pure sex.
Victor can’t words or brain good no more.
“Hiiiiiiii,” Yuuri purrs as he leans on his open doorframe. His pants are super tight, leaving nothing to the imagination with the S curve of his waist sinuous as it drops down into his hips and thighs. Victor’s practically high simply from looking at him. “Are you the Keymaster?”
“I’ll be anything you want,” Victor manages. He prays he’s not openly drooling.
Yuuri’s eyes—he’s not wearing his glasses, and…are they more red than usual? The irises, not the whites—-narrow a bit. “I am the Gatekeeper,” he says, his voice rough like a femme fatale with a Cuban cigar habit. “Are you the Keymaster?”
This must be some kind of obscure 1970s gay sex code, like a blue handkerchief in a man’s back pocket. Victor clears his throat and loosens his tie. “Yes. I’m your—Keymaster.”
Yuuri smiles and turns, looking over one shoulder and gesturing with two fingers for Victor to follow. Like a magnet pulls him, Victor walks as quietly as he can as though the sound of his shoes in the Shandor’s plush carpets will make this beautiful dance of seduction screech to a halt.
Yuuri’s feet are bare, his toenails lacquered the same color as his fingers, and he lies on the bed. Propped on his elbows, Yuuri raises and bends one knee. “Come,” he urges Victor.
“I might at this rate before—never mind,” Victor says.
As Victor takes off his shoes and climbs onto the bed next to Yuuri, his date makes a low rumble like a purr in his throat. His irises are…really red, Victor notes.
“Yuuri,” Victor begins.
“I’m the Gatekeeper,” Yuuri responds. He grabs Victor by the belt, unbuckling it before he pulls it through the loops on his trousers. “Are you the Keymaster?”
“Yes, of course,” Victor says. Yuuri spreads his legs and pulls Victor in between them. He nuzzles Victor’s throat, then bites a hickey into his Adam’s Apple.
Victor needs to do his job, but Yuuri is making it hard to think or do anything except the sloppy making out he’s pulled Victor into. He’s burning like an iron brand in Victor’s hands, and when they part, they’re tangled above the covers.
Four feet above the covers.
Yuuri’s eyes are glowing crimson, and Victor raises an eyebrow. “Mhm.”
Because traumatic brain injuries are serious and the lamp is clearly an antique, Victor regrets it so, so much when he shatters it on Yuuri’s skull. It renders him unconscious, and then Victor calls the others in to help.
From there it’s just…just awful.
Thanks to Yurio’s idiotic foray into ill-timed fantasizing about piroshki, all of Central Park West is covered in beef and cheese like Guy Fieri’s worst nightmare.
Gozer is gone, though, and that’s really what matters in the end.
Victor drapes a blanket over Yuuri’s shoulders as Yuuri gives him a small smile. “I like this you better,” Victor says referring to the glasses and soft expression in his (thankfully) brown eyes.
Before Yuuri can comment, his next door neighbor clears his throat. “Ah, Yuuri, when I was Vinz Clotho and you were Zuul, I know we may have—“
Yuuri sighs. “No, Minami. We definitely did not.”
“Oh good,” Minami says. “I’d rather it be special, like if I took you to—“
Yuuri sighs and walks away without a word. While still dripping piroshki filling Victor follows, shaking his head at Minami’s weird chatter. The Mayor wants to talk, after all, and they shouldn’t keep her waiting.