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His head is on the counter, arms covering his eyes, practically asleep. He faintly hears the jingle of music throughout the shop, and it drowns out the light chatter of the couple sitting in the back booth. Business was slow, and he basically had nothing better to do than just sleep—


He flinches violently, eyes going wide. Jumping up, his vision is filled with Yuuko, her big brown eyes boring into his.

"What—" Yuuri stammers, eyes still blurry from fatigue, "Yu-chan—"

"The foam machine is jammed again," she says, her expression suddenly turning apologetic. "Takeshi just texted me and said that the triplets are being let out of school early." 

That instantly wakes Yuuri up, and he straightens his back and turns to face her fully. "Huh, did something happen? Are they okay?"

Yuuko nods in relief. "Yes, but... there was a school-wide power outage. A truck crashed into a power line... or something." She shakes her head, and blows a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Takeshi is busy at work, huh?"

"Yeah... I'm sorry."

Yuuri waves his hands with a light smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Don't mind it, Yu-chan. It's pretty slow today, so I think I'll be able to handle it." He's had to manage the shop on his own two or three times before, and usually those days had more than two customers in at a time.

(Though, he recalls, something odd always happens whenever he's working alone. First time, a customer showed up, ordered, and then disappeared—and when Yuuri asked about them, the other customers said they had never seen such a person. Second time, all the cups went mysteriously missing. Yuuri wonders what will happen this time.)

Yuuko exhales slowly, and Yuuri can practically see the guilt and relief flashing through her eyes.

"Sorry," she says, "again."

Yuuri shakes his head, and just smiles as she quickly grabs her bag and leaves, eyes glued to her phone. 




Nothing odd has happened so far, and Yuuri begins to get suspicious. 

The couple leaves a generous tip when they leave, and only a small group of teenage girls trickle in after them. They're rather loud, much louder than Yuuri would've preferred, but, he thinks, at least they're polite when they order and careful not to leave much of a mess.

When half the girls are done with their order, Yuuri nods in satisfaction and goes to the back to work on the foam machine. He silently thanks whatever's listening that it isn't as bad as last time—wherein the machine was spewing foam from all ends and flooding the floor so bad everyone was tripping and slipping—and leans over to inspect. 

When he tugs on the handle, it won't budge, and he purses his lips. The backup storage of foam won't last forever, and he barely had enough for the last order with it. 

He hums a faint tune, hardly audible, as he grabs a screwdriver so he can look at the inside just in case that's what's causing it.

A faint Thank you! is what he hears from the front, followed by the noise of the door opening and closing. He assumes the girls have left, and sets the tool down so he can go clean up after any possible mess before any customers get there.

Once he wipes his hands clean and steps out to the counter, he reaches down to grab the rag.

When he comes up, there's a person standing there, lightly bouncing up and down nervously. It takes Yuuri about five seconds until he realizes just who this person is, and his jaw drops. He nearly screams.

Viktor Nikiforov, the world's most eligible and handsome bachelor, one of the most renowned movie stars in all the world. In his arms is a bag and a blond child.

"Uh," is the only syllable Yuuri can muster. His entire face is pink, he knows it, and when Viktor whirls around to look at him, it blossoms red and he begins to sweat nervously.

"Hold my son for a moment," says the Viktor Nikiforov, live in the flesh, sweaty and panting.

"Wha—" Yuuri can't even begin to comprehend what's going on before Viktor is gone, and there's a child in his arms.

He looks at the door, where it's still swinging and the bell is ringing, and then down at the child.

Yuri Plisetsky-Nikiforov, a child who has been everywhere in the news lately for being in one of Viktor's most recent movies. Yuuri hadn't believed when it he first read it in the news (in Snapchat's Buzzfeed article, of all things), but when pictures of Viktor and his newly-adopted son arose all over the internet, he was forced to believe it as fact. Criticism against Viktor was everywhere—claiming he only took on the child for publicity and attention, but some said it was because he was lonely. Yuuri assumed the latter, and didn't make much of a big deal of it.

But now that Yuri was in his arms, limp as a ragdoll, unmoving with a pout on his face, his subconscious told him that it was time to make a big deal of it.

"Um," Yuuri stammers, wondering why he's carrying an eight-year old child when an eight-year old should be perfectly capable to walk. "Hello?" Yuri's heavy, and slipping in his arms until he's barely being held up by his armpits.

Yuri doesn't say anything, but only looks up with a bored expression.

Viktor's son is in his arms. Viktor Nikiforov was in his coffee shop. Viktor—

—is standing right in front of him.

Yuuri squeaks, and jumps back in shock. Viktor is smiling, half-amazed and half-confused. Yuuri is only fully confused, and he looks up from Yuri to Viktor.

"Uh?" he asks without clarifying, apparently still unable to speak.

"I've never seen Yuri so calm with someone else before..." Viktor murmurs softly, his hands pressed against his cheeks, blue eyes sparkling. He's absolutely mesmerizing. When he sees Yuuri's expression, he straightens his back and plucks Yuri from his hands. "Haha, sorry about that! You know how it is with paparazzi, and Yuri gets pretty freaked out when they're all in his face like that."

Yuuri wants to say, no, I don't know how it is, but he supposes he can understand. It doesn't explain the sudden appearance in his coffee shop, however, and why Viktor is in Hasetsu and not Russia, where he's supposedly been for the past nine months.

"W-Why—are you here? " Yuuri manages out, and flushes in embarrassment about how blunt and rude the question is. "I-I mean—"

"I'm getting ideas for a new movie!" he replies, seemingly unfazed (or, maybe he didn't even notice it). "But it's really hard when you have paparazzi on you all the time! Especially when you have to take Yuri everywhere..."

Yuuri blinks, and then it hits him. There was an article on how Viktor constantly fired babysitters, where his reasoning was if Yuri doesn't like them, then neither do I!

"Oh..." Yuuri says softly, his brain still struggling to comprehend that Viktor-hecking-Nikiforov was in his coffee shop, talking to him, acknowledging his existence.

"Hmm..." Viktor hums, and he seems deep in thought for a moment. He stares at Yuuri, long and hard, and leans in until his hair tickles Yuuri's nose. Yuuri's face is still red, he guarantees it, and when Viktor's eyes rake up and down his body his hands shake and lift up.

Then Viktor pulls away, and sets Yuri on the ground. He leans down, whispering something in his ear in what Yuuri presumes to be Russian, and Yuri nods and whispers something back. Then, they're both staring at him.

Yuuri automatically takes a step back.

"I've got it!" Viktor exclaims excitedly, suddenly completely different from his previous, serious, brooding demeanor. He jumps forward, his upper body on the counter, and grabs both of Yuuri's wrists. "You're going to be Yuri's new babysitter."

Yuuri blinks. Once, twice. His mind is scrambling; in the background the foam machine makes a troubling noise, and then—

".... Ehhhh!? "



[13:34] yuuko: Yuuri Katsuki what did you do



Yuuri wonders how the hell he got into his situation, looking at the hotel room door with a faint expression of disdain. His heart is racing and he wants to run, but he can't bring himself to. Looking down at Viktor's far-too-excited text of his address, Yuuri gulps down whatever he's feeling and reaches up to knock at the door. Before his knuckles can even brush the wood, the door swings open and a hand yanks him inside like he's in a horror movie.

He yelps as he's pulled inside, and the door shuts behind him. The sight that meets him makes him want to cry.

Viktor is standing there in nothing but a bath robe, the tie pulled loose enough for his chest to shine through. He flourishes his arms in front of him, almost looking like he's going to engulf Yuuri in a hug.

Behind him, Yuri is drawing something at the table. He spares him a single glance, and perks up a little, but soon returns to whatever he's scribbling.

Yuuri pointedly notes that the hotel room looks pretty much like a home, but he supposes that's what happens when you rent out the penthouse and you're a worldwide celebrity. There's even a mini waterfall.

"You made it!" Viktor exclaims.

He's in Viktor Nikiforov's hotel room , about to babysit for Viktor Nikiforov's son.

(He tells himself never to work alone at the coffee shop again.)