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Three Sheets to the Wind

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It was a disaster.

An out-and-out disaster.

The Viktor Nikiforov plus one, two–no, three cans of beer spelled disaster.

Yuuri had no idea.

Why on earth did he even drink, if he has low alcohol tolerance?

Again, Yuuri had no idea.

And, more importantly, what was he even doing in Japan? Specifically, in my place!? That was all Yuuri could muster to think about as Viktor–the professional figure skater he literally worshipped since he was a kid–continued to prattle on gibberish in front of him.

In. Front. Of. Him.

Viktor in the flesh.

In front of Yuuri.

Well, Yuuri did get the chance to talk to him about a year ago, but he considered–and still considers–that the most humiliating moment of his life. More humiliating than when he was about to confess his love to his childhood friend, only to get shot down before he could even begin. As it turned out, Yuko was already dating someone at that time, so it kinda turned out into goodbye before he could even say hello or something like that.

Anyway, that was all in the past. What he needed to focus on right now was the drunk man mumbling nonsensically in front of him.


Never in Yuuri’s wildest of wildest dreams did he ever think that he would see Viktor in such a... state. Never did he ever think that the living legend in Men’s Figure Skating who had won five consecutive World Championships, five straight Grand Prix Finals, and countless European championships would just suddenly appear unannounced in his house.

“Well, considering my place… maybe Viktor was just having a vacation, right?” was what Yuuri told himself as he scurried to the onsen’s direction some hours ago. “Right?” He repeated to himself as he went from the hallway, to the indoor bath house, then to the hot springs.

And there he found Viktor, in his gracious form, wearing nothing but his own skin, dripping wet with water from the springs.

Their hot springs.

Or the hot springs in their house.

Hasetsu Hot Springs.


Yuuri could hear the loud thumping of his heart inside his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was the steam of the springs or the sight before him that was making all the blood in his body rise up his cheeks.

Probably, the latter. Yuuri thought to himself as he tried to focus his attention to about anything and everything else besides the man in front of him. As it turned out, it was a futile attempt in the end, because Viktor’s presence was all he could think about. Even without the man standing there live. He honestly wanted to bang his head on the stone floor to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Then, it happened. And he felt as if he were crashing into the sun or were catapulted into the moon or were thrown off the raging river, because Viktor gestured his right hand toward him and spoke.

Now, he was sure that that Viktor was alive and not some sort of hallucination created by his own mind.

“Yuuri, starting today, I’m your coach. I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.”

Then, Viktor winked.

At him.

Yuuri almost fainted from shock, from too much blood flowing in his head.

And all Yuuri could think of was how Viktor never failed to surprise him.

He’s a genius who never fails to surprise me. Yuuri inwardly told himself as he adjusted his glasses. His eyes trailed on Viktor who was still talking about how he was going to be the one coaching Yuuri starting that day. Or night, rather.

He was holding a can of beer on his hand, swirling it, narrowing his eyes on the container with a small pout.

Yuuri knew that the can was almost empty. Or so, that was what he had read from Viktor’s actions.

“Yuuri, give me more~” Viktor’s words were slurred as he reached an open palm to Yuuri. He was wearing his usual smile that could send all females and maybe some males, Yuuri included, into the promised land. One wouldn’t even notice that he was actually drunk without getting close to him and smelling the alcohol directly from him.

Yuuri nervously cleared his throat, his fingers trembling as he pretended to adjust his glasses once more. “V-Viktor, I-I don’t think it’s a good idea to drink that much.” He inwardly cheered for not biting his tongue, despite stuttering.

Viktor stared at Yuuri for a few moments, and an anxious silence filled the air.

Yuuri would honestly trade anything just to reclaim the last ten seconds of his life. He was at a loss for what to say. It clicked to him how he had just brushed off a visitor’s request, so he attempted to retract his words. “O-On second thought, it was rude of me to say something like that, s-so–” He was about to stand up and serve Viktor his order, but almost tripped when something suddenly grabbed his wrist, tugged him, and caused him to fall back to his seat with a small yelp.

It was then that he caught a whiff of the strong smell of alcohol. It was too much that he thought he would get drunk from it.

Or maybe he was already?

Viktor. Yuuri knew. His eyes went to his right wrist which Viktor was still holding. He struggled to form a coherent sentence as his mind had already gone poof in an instant. His heart almost stopped when soft, slender fingers began tilting his chin upwards. Before he knew it, he was staring straight into Viktor’s unfathomable blue eyes.

Viktor chuckled. “Whose rude mouth is it that’s telling me what to do?” He asked with half-lidded eyes.

Viktor’s voice was oh-so playfully and intoxicatingly sweet, Yuuri didn’t even bother protesting about being treated like a child or being chided. A gasp escaped his lips and he felt his eyes widen as his chest thumped more in anticipation than in distress.

For what? He had no idea.

“I-Im so sor–” Yuuri was about to apologize again, but was cut off when he felt himself get pulled by the chin. There wasn’t any strength to it. It just felt as if he were being drawn to and he had lost all will to struggle.

Did he even have the will, in the first place?

And as he got closer, and closer, and closer to Viktor’s face, his eyes gradually instinctively shut. He felt Viktor’s warm breath against his lips, and, at that moment he was pretty sure the man had gotten him drunk also. He heard another chuckle.

“Well, aren’t you cute, Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s ears slightly perked at that. He was inclined to open his eyes and sneak a peek at Viktor's expression, but couldn’t out of embarrassment aka the awkward situation he was in. He felt something warm brush against his lips for a second, and his heart began to thunder loudly.

He felt a surge of emotion well in his chest.

He was so happy he was about to cry.

He has no idea why he was happy nor why he was about to cry.

All he could think of was Viktor, Viktor, Viktor.

Until he felt something heavy fall against his chest, and he heard a muffled thud.

Thud? Yuuri wondered, finally deciding to open his eyes.

And Viktor was there, head rested on his shoulder, snoring softly.

“V-Viktor…?” Yuuri called out, lightly tapping Viktor on the back.

Viktor was asleep.

Yuuri blinked and stared and blinked at the wall before him.

Viktor’s warm breath swept past Yuuri’s neck, causing the short strands of hair falling behind the latter’s ear to flutter.

“What am I doing?” Yuuri whispered to himself, his cheeks burning as his face slowly sunk on Viktor’s shoulder with a sigh. If they weren’t in their current position, Yuuri would have already ran back to his room, his palms covering his face self-consciously. His glance unconsciously went to his side. He wasn’t able to completely see Viktor’s face, but the man’s short-grayish hair was enough to comfort him.

Yuuri slipped his hands on Viktor’s back, drawing the latter closer to his chest. As he snuggled his head on Viktor’s shoulder, he closed his eyes and listened to Viktor’s breathing.

His legs were sure to get numb later, but…

Oh, well…