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mariomandzho · 6 years

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THE FINE LINE, PART ONE word count: 1,891

He can’t stand her. He drives her insane. The only other thing they have in common? They’re crazy about each other. / MANDZO AU: Mario falls in love with a reporter.

Natalia Pavlović is an American journalist currently documenting spots data and seeking to make a name for herself in the journalism industry. Enter Mario Mandžukić, who seems hellbent on stopping her from doing that.

AESTHETIC.

Most soccer players were perfect gentlemen off the field.

Despite their violent and volatile reputations, they hardly ever gave her a hard time while she was conducting interviews. She didn’t tend to pry into their personal lives and they seemed to respect her, most of the time. A few lighthearted, impersonal questions and they’d sprint away to celebrate – or sometimes mourn – with their fellow teammates.

Croatian soccer players always seemed particularly enthusiastic to answer her questions; jumping for the opportunity to speak out on how proud they were of their country and successes. Even their losses they took in stride, and Natalia thought their pride was honorable.

But Mario Mandžukić was a completely different story.

He was known in the industry for being brief and terse. If you wanted to know the secrets or the inside scoop about Croatia NT, you went to someone… well.. willing to talk. Mandžukić was downright rude half the time, although it was more annoying than offensive at this rate. His unwillingness was a common topic amongst reporters; most journalists either bombarded him, hoping for even a shred, or steered clear altogether. Natalia favoured the second approach after a few too many thorny encounters.

If he wasn’t completely ignoring her existence, Mario was cursing his opponents and refusing to comment on anything.

But he was interesting. And she wouldn’t mind picking at his brain for half an hour. And she wouldn’t mind knowing more about him. The world was itching to know more about Juventus’ forward, Croatia’s most controversial team member, and, without a doubt, their most prolific goalscorer.

They knew he had a temper, and a massive salary, but beyond that it was anyone’s guess and only sporadic social media posts could connect the dots.

So, Natalia made a promise to herself that by the end of the season she’d get him to open up. The life of a sportswriter was not all glitz and glamour, travel and free press conferences; it was grueling work and not something she particularly cared about. She didn’t want to continue to fight for scraps, or fight to write articles on subjects she was interested in.

She supposed it could be worse, she could be writing about her sex life (or lack thereof) or dating mechanisms for Cosmopolitan – but was it so wrong that she wanted to broach out?

She wanted to write about politics, inequality, gender-studies, law... anything!

It would all come down to him.

Mandžukić could very well be her passport into the corporate world of journalism. If she got him under her thumb, wrapped around her finger, she’d be able to write a stellar article about the mind of Croatia’s killer, and she’d finally be recognized.

Even if he was an asshole.

“Natalia? Are you listening to me?”

No more crashing on her friends’ couch. No more being forced to cover up to ten events on the same day, and she wouldn’t have to bust her butt to get a full-time gig, either.

She blinked herself back into reality and glanced at her co-worker, James.

Lost in her thoughts, she mouthed, “What?”

“I said, make sure you turn the volume up on your recorder, it was a little staticky last time. Must be all the equipment and whatnot.”

“Oh, right. Sorry about that. I must still be jet-legged. You almost ready?”

“Almost,” James replied with a slight shrug.

The banquet hall was teeming with familiar faces – they were familiar in the sense that Natalia had seen them before on television perhaps a hundred times, seen their faces plastered on city buses, Facebook walls and patriotic apparel, but she didn’t know them personally – unless she’d interviewed them before.

Soccer players milled in and out of the spacious hall whilst their public relations teams sang their praises and caterers doled out glasses of champagne and delectable hors d’oeuvre. Chandeliers glistened above, Frank Sinatra crooned from the speakers whilst an orchestra played quietly in the distance, and journalists rubbed elbows and forged ties.

Media representatives from over fifteen countries were in attendance and Natalia felt more than a little nervous at the prospect of being drowned out by all of them – she was young (and a woman) and the odds seemed stacked against her.

She sought out the easiest targets first; players, coaches and managers she knew would be willing to let a comment or two slip relating to the evening and their players’ season thus far. Mindless comments such as, “we’re glad to support charity whenever we can, and so and so is very passionate about philanthropy,” and, “what a year it’s been for the team!”

Nothing interesting per se, but, as she liked to call it, it was ‘writing fluff.’

After speaking with a representative from Mexico, Natalia flitted toward the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. She rarely drank on the job, but there was something about having a glass in hand that made a conversation seem more intimate. It allowed her subjects to open up to her as she interviewed them; almost as if they considered her a friend.

“Vermouth,” a warm voice requested beside her. “Please.”

She glanced upward, instantly recognizing Luka Modric’s striking profile and wind-tossed blond hair, sitting in artful disarray atop his aristocratic forehead.

“I did not take you for the herbal type.”

Croatia’s midfielder turned his blue gaze toward her and smiled unreservedly. He was one of those, those men who tried to keep a thumb over their private life but wore their heart on their sleeve. “And what did you peg me for?”

“That depends. Are you here for business or for pleasure?”

Modric chuckled at that, “I’ll tell you when I know. Luka Modric, but, I get the feeling you already knew that,” He remarked smoothly, offering her hand.

Natalia shook hands with the midfielder. “Natalia Pavlović.”

“Oh, you’re a Croat?”

She swallowed thickly, “my father is.”

“Well, its a pleasure, Ms. Pavlović. Are you…”

She tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “A journalist, yes.”

“I couldn’t tell for a moment. Most reporters–they’re like vultures.” As if realizing what he had implied, Luka’s cheeks bloomed red and he shook his head meekly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure it’s a rewarding profession.”

“No offense taken. I completely agree, most of the time anyway. I don’t suppose this is an inappropriate time to ask if I could ask you a few questions?”

“Su–.”

“Luka,” a deeper-voice beckoned, sidling up to the captain and barely glancing at Natalia. It was Mario, of course. Who else would ignore her presence like a mouse? “Dalić wants you. Some dense reporter needs a statement or something of the sort and he wants to clear the air.” He rose his brow, gesturing with his pointer finger between the two, “am I interrupting something?”

“No! No, I mean, no,” Natalia shook her head.

“I’m definitely interrupting.”

“We’ll finish another time, Mr. Modric. A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Mandžukić.”

“We’ve met?”

“Three times,” she retorted.

“Natalia was just about to conduct an interview, can it wait?”

“Five minutes, please. I don’t want Dalić to shoot the messenger.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long at all. Walk with us?” Luka asked, cocking his head toward Mario.

Natalia nodded eagerly, a little too eagerly perhaps, and left her drink sitting on the bar top before she trotted behind the two men. Mario was taller than Luka, quite a bit taller, and though he was slender his muscles surged beneath his bespoke suit, tailored just so against his agile frame. She could see his tattoos peaking from beneath his golden cufflinks, and his dark hair was teased upward.

“Just don’t ask any empty-headed questions,” Mario snapped.

“I’ll try my best not to,” Natalia said darkly, “Luka, what does it mean to you to represent Croatia and Zadar?”

Mandžukić grimaced, grumbling in Croatian under his breath, “doesn’t follow basic orders, check.”

Clearly, he wasn’t aware that she could understand him as her American accent wrapped around her words.

“It’s a huge honor to represent your country anytime,” Luka pronounced diplomatically, “whether it’s the Presidents Cup or World Cup or as an amateur, even now, at the beginning of the season. It’s a chance to make our abilities known.”

“I’m sure it is. Have you been reading the expectations for the Croatia versus Spain game? Everyone is interested to know your thoughts on Sergio Ramos. Care to share?”

“He’s a formidable player. I won’t underestimate that. It’s dangerous to underestimate your opponents.”

“Ramos would be mindful to remember that.” Mario released a low-sounding chuckle as they exited the banquet and joined the rest of their team mates, including Zlatko Dalić who was dressed in his statement white dress shirt and black slacks, his hair gelled back and curling around his earlobes and collar.

Natalia bounded down the few steps leading toward the courtyard, nearly bumping into Mario as she did so.

“Thank you for your time,” she murmured to Luka, her voice muffled by the sound of the fountain bubbling, “I really appreciated it. And I’ll have to try the Vermouth next time, if you swear by herbals.”

“Why don’t you stick around? We’re almost done here and the after party admittedly is the highlight of the night.”

Natalia glanced in Mario’s direction, as if to gather his reaction, but he’d already slipped into the throng of Croatian players and was currently warding off a side-hug from Domagoj Vida, Croatia’s defender.

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she considered the offer, “you’re sure no one will object?”

Luka gave her a telltale look.

“No one?”

“You’ll be my plus-one.”

Music streamed through the speakers and iridescent lights lit up the hotel where the after party was being held. Two different tournaments were playing on massive screens, with an additional six plasma televisions displaying games from last week, whilst bartenders dished out rounds upon rounds of shots and bouncers monitored the gambling stakes.

Natalia entered the lobby sporting the outfit she wore to the banquet, a cream-lace cocktail dress that fell just above her knees and cinched at her waist.

She quickly became lost in the crowd, searching for a drink, or a dose of reality amidst all the opulence and pizzaz.

Nearly colliding into the back of one of Germany’s lesser-known players, Natalia was knocked onto her feet and given a sneer by the player. “On that note,” she muttered, straightening out her dress, thankful that he hadn’t spilled beer on her, “let the torture begin.”

“Sounds like fun,” a voice whispered behind her. “I’m new here. Can I have directions back to your place?”

Natalia spun on her heel and casted a horrified look toward the man who approached her. “I beg your pardon?”

Undaunted, he continued, “you’re lucky that bastard didn’t spill anything on your dress. It would look horrible at the dry cleaner’s, instead of on the floor next to my bed tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Reporter. But you can call me Mr. Right.”

“That may be so,” A new voice entered the mix, gripping Natalia by her elbow and causing her to gasp, “but, unfortunately, she’s with me.”

She would’ve been grateful to anyone for saving her from the clutches of hell, but it was him.

PART ONE. PART TWO.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tagging system. @iceandbone, @collapse-the-stars, @saraalexissanchez, @von-hammett, @ditezadarsko, @crazycroatianntfan, @letowolfie, @abegaelle, @bestemmiedigigi, @chriss9561, @samwiltson, @roseszymczak, @arduango, @insecurities-broker, @blindlymadridista, @simplyandamazingx3, @living-lovren

#Mario Mandzukic #croatia nt #croatia nt x reader #juventus fanfiction #Mario Mandžukić #tfl #mf: the fine line #mf: mario mandzukic

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itmakesyoulooklikealoser · 7 years

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Pynch Week 2017 Day 8: Free Choice

Every morning Adam Parrish gets up at 5 AM to begin his day. He gets out of bed and takes a shower before his roommates can steal all the hot water. Then he gathers all his stuff for the day and heads to the coffee shop down the street where he gets a large vanilla dirty chai latte and studies and does homework until his first class at 10 AM. This has been his routine for the past 4 months since starting at college. He loves the consistency and stability this simple routine has offered him.

Adam had had a hard time adjusting to college life at first. The hard work and effort needed to succeed wasn’t a problem. Adam had worked three jobs while in high school. No, the difficult part to adjust to was having to live with three complete strangers and having no privacy of his own. He had moved out of his parents trailer before his senior year in high school and lived on his own in a tiny one room apartment above a church. He was used to a certain amount of privacy and quite. But the first week in the dorms Adam had nearly lost his mind. There was always someone around, some noise being made. Food disappeared from the refrigerator and things inexplicably moved on their own. Adam was overwhelmed to say the least. He just needed at least an hour a day of peace and quiet away from his roommates.

So one morning Adam woke up earlier than normal and gathered all his stuff and set off aimlessly off campus and down the main strip. He had only walked a few blocks when he stumbled across a small coffee shop. He wandered in and fell in love with it immediately.

It was a nice, cozy coffee shop. It had about 8 or 9 tables spread around the open area with really comfortable looking chairs around them. There was a steady stream of customers coming and going. Most people taking their coffee to go instead of taking advantage of the seating. The noise of coffee beans being ground and brewed hummed in the background. But it wasn’t the chaotic disarray that Adam felt while in the dorm. This was a practiced and perfected flow of energy. It was strangely calming to Adam. So he had ordered a coffee and found a comfortable chair to commandeer and thus his daily morning routine was born.

A little over a month after Adam had started going to the coffee shop he noticed that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to start every morning there. A man who looked to be about his age came in around the same time Adam did every day. The man was tall and sharp looking. He usually wore all black and had a buzzed head. Adam thought he looked a little out of place in the brightly colored coffee shop, but the man seemed to feel at home. He had probably been coming to the coffee shop longer than Adam had.

At first Adam just ignored the man. He had a lot to do and the whole point of coming to the coffee shop was to get some time to himself. But every few days Adam noticed that the man would choose a seat slightly closer to Adam’s table. After the first month of seeing the man at the coffee shop he smiled and gave a small wave to him after ordering his coffee and making his way to his usual seat. The man seemed surprised that Adam had acknowledged him and gave him a strange look, his normally sharp features softening slightly. Ever since that day they always silently acknowledged each other, but never said a word to the other. Even when they started sitting at the same table together daily each working on their respective tasks. Adam didn’t even know the man’s name, but still he continued to sit in comfortable silence with the man every day while he did his school work and the man read a book or wrote in his journal.

————

Adam had been running a few minutes late getting to the coffee shop one morning and was surprised to walk in and find a coffee cup already sitting on the table in his spot. Adam’s first thought was that the man was meeting someone else and had bought them coffee, but when Adam made eye contact with the man he nodded towards the chair silently letting Adam know the coffee was, in fact, for him. Adam walked cautiously over to the table and lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. He was shocked to find the satisfying taste of a vanilla dirty chai latte coating his mouth. His eye went wide and he looked over at the other man who was smiling at him. He gave Adam a nod and went back to reading his book. Adam felt like he should say something, at least thank him for the coffee, but he didn’t want to disrupt the comfortable thing they had going on between them. So he drank his coffee in silence and started on his school work for the day. ————

A few days later Adam was at the bookstore when he saw a book that he thought the man at the coffee shop would enjoy based on some of the stuff he had seen him reading previously. After some debate Adam decided to buy the book and planned on giving it to him the next day as a silent thank you for the coffee.

Adam arrived 15 minutes early to the coffee shop the next morning so he could place the book in the other man’s spot before he arrived. Adam tried to focus on his school work while he waited but he found himself looking up every time the little bell on the door chimed indicating that someone had entered the shop. After what was at least 15 minutes after the normal time they both arrived Adam started to feel a little disappointed. After another 20 minutes had passed he gave up on any hope that the man was coming today. Adam was surprised at how disappointed he was that the man did not show up today. He chalked it up to the anticipation of giving the man the book and not that he had started to look forward to seeing him everyday and enjoyed his company.

The next three days happened the exact same way as the first day the man didn't show up. Adam arrived early, couldn’t focus on his work instead focusing on every one that came in the shop, and left more and more disappointed that the man did not show. He was starting to think he had done something wrong and had offended the man. Was he upset because Adam hadn’t verbally thanked him for the coffee? Or was he just weirded out that Adam continued to show up and sit quietly with him every day? Whatever the reason, Adam found himself falling into a bad mood every day he didn’t show.

After the fourth day the man didn’t show Adam went back to his dorm room nursing a foul mood. He flopped himself onto the couch and exhaled loudly. He knew he was being ridiculous. It shouldn’t matter that the man stopped showing up to sit in silence with him at the coffee shop. How was he so upset about someone when he didn’t even know their name? As he was moping on the coach his roommate Noah walked in and plopped down next to him.

Noah was the human equivalent of a firecracker. He was loud and had so much energy. He never stopped moving and was always rattling on about something or another. Adam didn’t know how he had so much energy, he never seemed to stop or get tired. Adam wished he could siphon just a sliver of the boys energy.

“Hey Noah,” Adam offered, trying to not let his mood effect his interaction with his roommate.

Obviously he wasn't doing a very good job at hiding his frustration because Noah quickly asked what was bothering him.

Adam didn’t really know how to explain what was bothering him without it sounding crazy. He hadn’t mentioned the unspoken arrangement between him and the coffee shop man to anyone before, but now he felt like he needed to tell someone, if not just to get out some of the frustration. So Adam told Noah about the man at the coffee shop.

“Hm,” Noah offered unhelpfully once Adam had finished explaining the situation.

Adam tried to resist rolling his eyes. He shouldn’t have said anything. It sounded ever more ridiculous when he said it out loud. What had he expected Noah to say to help the situation? “Sounds like you have a crush,” Noah said after a minute of silence.

Adam blanched at that.

“What?! No! That’s ridiculous Noah. I haven’t even said 2 words to the guy.” Adam protested. But as soon as he started to deny it he realized that maybe Noah wasn’t completely wrong. Shit, had he subconsciously developed a crush on him. That would explain his bad mood at him not showing up the past few days.

Noah must have seen the transition and realization in Adam’s face because he slapped Adam on the back gleefully and started hounding him for more information on the mystery guy.

————

The next morning Adam got up and prepared for the day. He tried not to think about the possibility of seeing the mystery man again, this time with the new knowledge of his crush towards him. Adam finished getting ready early and couldn’t sit still so he decided to head to the coffee shop early.

Adam arrived 20 minutes earlier than his normal time to the cafe. He sat at his normal table and pulled out all this stuff, including the book for the man. He pushed the book over to the other man’s side of the table and opened his text book. Adam really did try to study, but his eyes kept glancing to the door, his hands straying to the book on the other side of the table. After several minutes of not getting any actual studying done, Adam pulled the book back to his side of the table. He had gotten an idea. He ripped a scrap of paper out of his notebook and scrawled a note on it and put it in the book. Just as he closed the book and pushed it back to the other side of the table he heard the door chime. He looked up and saw his mystery guy walking to the counter to order his coffee.

The reality of what Adam had just done sank in when he saw the man come into the coffee shop. He had just written a note asking his crush out and stuffed it in his book like a middle schooler. Adam started to panic and was about to reach for the book when the man sat down at the table, grabbed the book while smiling at Adam and put it in his bag.

Adam tried to return the smile, hoping he didn’t look pained. Maybe he should ask for the book back. Tell the man the book wasn’t actually for him. It was for a friend. But no, Adam knew that wouldn’t work. The book was clearly for the man. Who else did Adam know who would read a book on animal husbandry? Adam hadn’t even known what that was until he had seen him reading a book on the topic a few weeks ago. He had gone to the library to research what it was before his first class that day. Adam silently accepted that he was stuck with the rash decision he had made and could only wait for the response.

—————

Several days had gone by and the man had been reading the book Adam had given him every morning. Adam had waited for a response the first day. The second day he would have just been happy with an acknowledgement that the man had at least seen the note. The third day passed with not so much as a look that said the man had encountered the note. Adam wasn’t sure if the man really hadn’t seen the note, or if he was choosing the ignore it and pretend he had never seen it. Adam didn’t know which one he would have preferred. If the man had seen the note, he was still showing up to the coffee shop every morning and sitting with Adam so he couldn’t have been too upset about it. If he hadn't seen the note Adam didn’t think he had enough courage to try and ask him out again any time soon.

On the fourth day, Adam arrived at the coffee shop to find a very nice planner sitting in his spot. Adam looked around the cafe but didn’t see his coffee buddy anywhere. He sat down with his coffee and picked up the planner.

The planner looked very expensive. When Adam picked it up he was surprised to find that it was bound in real leather. The cover was embossed with silver lettering and the year below. Adam ran his finger over the lettering which read “quoniam amicus meus capulus” in a neat cursive script. Adam smiled to himself as he flipped through the pages of the planner to the current date. He faltered when he arrived on the page laying out the current week. In a rushed scrawl across Friday there was a time and address written along with a signature. Ronan. Adam finally had a name to call the man he had been crushing on for weeks now.

————

The rest of the week crawled by at a snail’s pace. Adam was anxious for Friday to arrive. Ronan disappeared from the coffee shop again, which did not help with Adam’s anxiety. Several times Adam pulled out the planner to make sure that there was still a time and address written and he had not just imagined the whole thing. He read the entry over and over again, memorizing the address. Despite Adam’s curiosity he did not look up the address to see what it was. He wanted to see what kind of place Ronan thought he would enjoy in person.

Adam pulled up the GPS on his phone and typed in the address. The GPS told him the address was just a couple of miles from campus. Usually Adam would bike or walk that short a distance, but he didn’t want to arrive to what he was assuming was a date all sweaty. Adam also wasn’t sure how to dress for where ever it was he was going. That had almost been the thing that had nearly caused him to say fuck it and look up what the address belonged to. But Adam had torn his closet apart and chosen to dress in a button down shirt and a pair of his nicest jeans. On his way out to the cab he grabbed a blazer just in case the place was nicer than he expected from someone who wears leather and black tanks exclusively it seemed.

The cab came to a stop outside of the same bookstore that Adam had bought the book he had given Ronan from. Confused, Adam pulled out the planner and flipped the address written inside. He read the address again and matched it to the address on the outside of the building. This was not even close to what Adam had expected. He had expected maybe a dinner date or even bowling. A bookstore wasn’t even on his radar. After checking the address one more time, he paid the cab and walked inside.

Inside Adam walked through each row of shelves, keeping an eye out for Ronan. While walking through the store he notices a sign near a cluster of chairs. Curious, he walks over and reads the sign. Adam’s heart falls as he reads the sign. The sign was advertising a book talk and signing by a big time engineer.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Adam was an idiot. This was not a date at all. Ronan had written the time and address for this book signing because he thought Adam would be interested in it because he was always studying his engineering text books at the coffee shop. If Adam hadn’t have been stupid and looked up the actual address he would have seen the advertisement of the bookstores webpage and known it wasn’t a date.

Adam turned from the sign, intending to leave the shop. As he turned he ran into something solid. He staggered back a little and looked up to see Ronan standing there smiling at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. One of my cows has been in labor the past few days. She finally gave birth a few hours ago. I wasn’t sure I was gonna be able to make it and I would have felt like a complete ass. But alas, here I am.”

Adam just stared at Ronan. He wasn’t sure if Ronan was making a joke or if he was serious. Adam had thought that Ronan just liked reading about farming stuff, he didn't think he was an actual farmer.

After a few seconds of Adam not responding Ronan’s smile faltered.

“Shit. You didn’t realize I was going to be here too. I knew I should have specified in the planner that this was meant to be a date. My brother said it would be cuter if I just wrote the time and address and you would know it was a date because of the note. I can leave if you want?” Ronan had started rambling nervously, his cheeks forming a very attractive blush.

Adam’s brain finally caught up to what was happening and he basically shouted at Ronan.

“NO!” He said, starting to laugh, “No. Sorry! I’m just shocked is all. I had started to think that I had assumed wrong and this wasn’t actually a date after all. I mean, do you always take your dates to the bookstore?”

Ronan’s blush deepened, “No, just the smart ones.”

Adam started to blush in response.

“So….” Ronan started.

Adam realized Ronan was waiting for him tell him his name. He had forgotten that Ronan didn’t know it yet.

“Adam. Adam Parrish.”

Ronan smiled, “Ronan Lynch. Well Adam, I think the book talk is about to start. Shall we?”

#pynchweek17 #pynch fic #pynch #trc fic #trc #the raven cycle #Ronan lynch #adam parrish #the dreamer & the magician #my writing #unedited #we made it to the end!

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ipona · 7 years

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Beautiful

So, since I posted this on AO3 like a week ago and I’m pretty happy with it, I figured I’d cross post it here as well. It’s basically just 11.5k words of Viktor and Yuuri falling in love in an AU setting where they’re not figure skaters. Fluffy, with a little bit of smut. AO3 link.

The first time Yuuri Katsuki meets The Most Beautiful Man in the World is on a Thursday in September. The heat of the summer still lingers in the air, and Yuuri just cycled the entire way home from work. His hair a mess, his t-shirt sweaty and clinging to his body, he just wants to come home and jump into a well-deserved cold shower.

“Hold the elevator,” he yells, jogging towards the closing doors. Inside is a man he has never seen before. Yuuri sort of recognizes most of the people who lives in the building, but this man, Yuuri is sure he has never seen in the building before.

Mostly because he’s sure that he would have recognized this man, as he is gorgeous. Probably the most beautiful man Yuuri has ever seen. Standing a couple of inches taller than Yuuri and dressed in a simple suit, he flashes Yuuri a smile that’s brighter than the sun. His hair is a silvery, ashy blonde, and his blue eyes like ice. There’s a warmth to him though, in the way he smiles silently at Yuuri’s muffled “Thanks”. Yuuri turns his gaze away, because it’s embarrassing to even look at a man who looks like he’s sent from the heavens above, when Yuuri himself looks like he just crawled out of a dumpster fire.

Defeated, he exhales and runs his hands through his sweaty hair before getting off on his own floor.

At home, Phichit greets him. They’ve been roommates and best friends since they were both in collage, and just decided to keep living together. There was no way either of them could afford an apartment like this alone. Well, maybe Phichit could, now that his YouTube channel is taking off.

It’s a comfortably roomy apartment, if a bit run down. Two bedrooms and a combined living room and kitchen. There’s even a balcony with a decent view, and Yuuri has no idea how they managed to score an apartment like this.

Phichit is on the couch, browsing through YouTube comments on his laptop. The door to the balcony is open and Phichit has turned the fan to its highest setting, making the apartment cool and comfortable, especially when coming in from the outside.

“Wow, you look like shit,” he comments, glancing at Yuuri.

“No shit. It’s so freaking hot outside.”

His roommate just hums, turning his attention back to his laptop as Yuuri heads for the shower. He keeps the water just cold enough to be chilling against his hot skin. He wonders what The Most Beautiful Man in the World’s apartment looks like. Does his shower also take a minute for the water to heat up? Does the floorboards in his bedroom also creak if you step on them at two AM? Does he have a roommate? Pets?

Yuuri stops himself. He’s not going to let this get out of hand. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask Phichit what he knows about The Most Beautiful Man in the World.

“Hey, Phichit,” he says as he steps out of the shower with only a towel around his waist. “I just ran into this guy in the elevator. Do you know if any new people moved in recently?”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall guy, blonde, really blue eyes?”

“Oh,” Phichit smiles. “You mean Ice Daddy.”

“Ice what now?”

“Ice Daddy. Me and Leo came up with the name. Fitting, right? We ran into him in the elevator a couple of days ago.”

“You ran into him a couple of days ago and you don’t follow him on all social media available to man yet? Wow, Phichit, you’re losing your touch.”

“Shut up.”

“So why Ice Daddy?”

“Because did you see those eyes? Cold as ice.” Yuuri didn’t think his eyes were cold at all. Blue, yes. Icy, maybe. But cold? No, not combined with that kind smile, and with that playful look in them.

“Whatever.” Yuri flops down next to Phichit on the sofa. “What’re you doing?”

“Just some work.” He has some video editing software open, and is editing his latest vlog. Phichit majored in journalism, but started a YouTube channel during his sophomore year, which has gained ten of thousands of followers since then. After college he just decided that he made enough money from it, and that he could pursue it as a full time job.

It’s not something Yuuri could ever work with, but Phichit is happy with it. Yuuri supposes that it’s his bubbly personality and penchant for drama and gossip that makes him popular.

Yuuri studied graphic design, and somehow managed to get a job he likes right away, even though it’s half an hour away by bike, which gets old quickly in the summer, when he pretty much drowns in his own sweat before he’s even halfway there.

…

It’s a couple of nights later when Yuuri runs into The Most Beautiful Man in the World again. Or Ice Daddy, as he’s now known in his and Phichit’s group of friends.

“The elusive Ice Daddy, on whom Yuuri has a crush,” Phichit dubs him. They’re at home, with Leo and Guang-Hong over. They’ve ordered pizza and are drinking beer while Yuuri beats all of their asses in Mortal Kombat.

“Not true.”

The phone rings, and the pizza guy announces that he’s outside. Yuuri volunteers to go down to fetch it. He pays with a proper tip, goes back to the elevator with an armful of pizza boxes. When he hears someone call out “Hold the elevator,” he reaches out to press the button to keep the doors open.

He proceeds to lose his grip on the pizza boxes, causing them to fall, staining his white t-shirt with tomato sauce.

And in through the elevator doors walks The Most Beautiful Man in the World. Ice Daddy. He’s more causally dressed this time, in a pair of fashionably ripped jeans, a t-shirt that looks way too expensive, and a thin, green jacket. His hair is as perfect as last time, and his gaze is an intense blue at it meets Yuuri’s.

He gives a short greeting, that Yuuri answers with a grunted “Hey,” as he struggles with the pizza boxes. The stain on his shirt is obvious and Yuuri wants to die. He’s a functioning adult! He looks nice sometimes! Why does The Most Beautiful Man in the World only see him when he’s a mess?

“Do you need help with that?” Ice Daddy asks, glancing at Yuuri with curious eyes.

“No no no,” Yuuri insists. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

He finally has a good grip again, and does his best to hide his stained shirt as he smiles back at Ice Daddy.

“Alright,” he says as he gets off on the same floor as last time, two floors before Yuuri. “Have a nice evening.”

“You too,” Yuuri manages before the elevator doors close. It not like Yuuri thinks anything might happen between him and Ice Daddy, even if he saw Yuuri when he’s not a complete troll. But it’s still embarrassing to meet someone so attractive and sophisticated when you’re everything but attractive and sophisticated at the moment.

“Guess who I met in the elevator while spilling pizza sauce on my shirt?” Yuuri yells to his friends as he walks in through the door.

“I hope it wasn’t my pizza you spilled on your shirt,” Leo comments, eyes glued to the screen where he’s getting his ass kicked by Guang-Hong.

“Did you meet Ice Daddy again?” Phichit asks, leaning back on the couch and looking at Yuuri.

“Bingo,” Yuuri says as he puts down the pizzas on the table. “He must think I’m a homeless person who continuously keeps being let into his apartment building.”

“It’s not that bad, Yuuri,” Phichit assures him. “You just look like a toddler who can’t control his food.”

“Thanks, Phichit.”

…

The next time he meets The Most Beautiful Man in the World, he is completely and utterly wasted, and, as per usual, a mess. Saturday night, and once again he’s heading home. Phichit is still at the bar. He had been in the middle of chatting up a stranger, and Yuuri didn’t want to be in the way. Only half aware of his surroundings, he stumbles into the elevator, where another man is already standing.

It’s The Most Beautiful Man in the World. Ice Daddy. Damn Phichit for making that nickname stick.

“I can’t believe I look like a mess when I’m meeting you again,” Yuuri tells him, all inhibitions lost. Ice Daddy just looks at him, with a look on his face that is too hard to decipher for Yuuri’s drunk brain. “I am a fun- functioning adult, ya know?”

“Are you okay?” the man asks, reaching out to support Yuuri’s weight when he stumbles and almost falls. Yuuri’s vaguely aware of the fact that his tie is around his head and that his shirt is unbuttoned just a bit too far. But most of all, he’s aware of how the body of The Most Beautiful Man in the World is pressed up against him, his strong arm around his waist.

“’M fine,” Yuuri insists, but makes no move to disentangle from the man next to him. “It’s not fair, y'know? You’re so hot when I’m a - a disaster.”

“I’m going to walk you to your apartment,” Ice Daddy tells him. “Which floor are you on?”

Yuuri doesn’t know how to answer. The man smells so good, and he can’t help but turn his head into his neck, inhaling his scent. He’s warm and he smells good and he feels nice against Yuuri and he’s so hot and…

Yuuri doesn’t remember much after that.

Sunlight streaming through airy curtains wake him. That, and the searing headache coming his way. It takes him a minute to realize that he’s not in his own bed. The sheets are softer, lighter, and the room he’s in is minimalistic and clean. He feels like he’s in some sort of surreal IKEA display room, except more luxurious.

On the bedside table, his glasses are folded up next to his phone. He has nineteen messages and ten missed calls. Most from Phichit. One from his mom. Someone has put a glass of water on the nightstand as well, and as Yuuri sits up he sees a bucket on the floor. No vomit in it, luckily.

Yuuri still doesn’t remember where he is, and he’s starting to freak out. The clothes he wore last night are neatly folded on a chair in the corner of the room. He’s still wearing his underwear though, so it doesn’t seem like he went home with someone. When he has put on his clothes and walked out the bedroom door, he gets a flash of remembrance. The apartment has the same layout as his own, and there’s a man standing at the stove, making eggs.

A very beautiful man, perhaps The Most Beautiful Man in the World. Yuuri wants to sink through the floor. He wants to disappear, would do anything to not be right here right now. He clears his throat, making his presence known to the other man.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Ice Daddy says as he turns around. He looks way too good in such a casual outfit. Tousled hair in a way that probably only he can pull off, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a white, baggy t-shirt with a low enough neck to show off his collarbones. “I was going to try to wake you up soon.”

“Thanks,” is all Yuuri can manage, his voice hoarse. He looks at his phone. It’s almost noon. “What happened last night?”

The man gets an almost mischievous smile on his lips and all Yuuri can think about is how he would love to shove him against the kitchen counter right now, if this wasn’t such a surreal and embarrassing situation.

“Well,” he begins. “You were too drunk to tell me which floor you live on, so I just brought you here, to sleep off the buzz.”

Yuuri sighs, too hungover to be as mortified as he probably should be. This is what he gets for going home without Phichit while drunk.

“Thank you so much. Look, I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks again for taking care of me.”

“Won’t you stay for breakfast?” Ice Daddy moves from the stove, to lightly touch Yuuri’s arm.

“I couldn’t,” Yuuri persists, flinching away from the touch. “I’m already in debt to you for last night. I might have passed out in the elevator if it weren’t for you.”

“You probably would have,” the man agrees, smiling.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Yuuri says. “Thanks again. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, just let me know.”

Just before he makes it out the door, Ice Daddy comes up to him again.

“You could tell me your name,” he says as he stands next to Yuuri, arms crossed over his broad chest, a small smile on his lips. Yuuri has just slipped his shoes on and stands up again.

“Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki.”

“That’s a nice name.” Yuuri blushes. The Most Beautiful Man in the World said just said that he thinks Yuuri’s name is nice. “I’m Viktor Nikiforov.”

So now The Most Beautiful Man in the World, Ice Daddy, has a name, and it just happens to be a beautiful name. Yuuri dares a small smile as he goes out the door. Sinking through the floor in embarrassment can wait until after he has had a shower and cleared his mind of this unreal experience.

“Bye, Viktor.”

“Bye, Yuuri.”

…

Phichit is angry. Very, very angry.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t pick up the phone! I was so worried! I was just about to call the police! Where have you been?”

This entire story will probably make Phichit forgive him, Yuuri knows. So he just smiles, and then buries his face in his hands in shame.

“You’re not gonna believe it,” he tells Phichit. “Let me just take a shower and then I’ll tell you.”

He’s right. Phichit doesn’t believe him at first. With an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, he stares at Yuuri where he sits next to him on the couch.

“You mean to tell me that Ice Daddy-”

“Can we please just call him Viktor?” Phichit ignores him.

“- that Ice Daddy found you drunk off your ass in the elevator, brought you to his apartment and let you sleep in his bed.”

“Yes.”

“You know this sounds unbelievable, right?”

“Yes.”

“Like, it sounds suuuper made up.”

“I’m just telling you what happened.”

“Alright.” Phichit smiles at last. “Did you at least get his number?”

“No, I hurried out of there as fast as I could.”

“Yuuri!” Phichit exclaims. “I can’t leave you to do anything right! I’m looking him up right now.”

“Please don’t.” Yuuri buries his head in his hands again, exhaling deeply. He can feel an anxiety attack coming. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Oh, get over it,” Phichit tells him as he finds Viktor’s Facebook profile on his laptop. When Yuuri doesn’t answer him, and instead focuses on breathing slowly to keep from hyperventilating, Phichit pauses. “Shit, is it that serious?”

Phichit throws an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close. “Hey, Yuuri, it’s okay, you’re okay. Just breathe.”

Phichit smells like safety. He’s been the shoulder that Yuuri’s been crying into for years and by now, even just his presence, his solid warmth as he pulls him into a tight hug, is enough to make Yuuri feel better.

“Hey, I think this will make you feel better,” Phichit says, nudging Yuuri with his shoulder. “Look, he has a poodle, just like you did.”

Despite his reluctance, Yuuri glances over Phichit’s shoulder. Viktor’s profile picture is of him and a dog, a large, brown poodle. He’s outside, squinting towards the camera in the sunlight. He looks gorgeous.

“It is a nice dog,” Yuuri comments, his breathing normal again.

“Come on, look here. He’s studied literature and linguistics. He’s Russian. He has a dog. This guy just gets more dreamy by the second.”

“Too bad I have no chance.”

“You totally do. No one takes in and cares for a total drunken weirdo stranger unless they have some sort of attraction to them. If you think about it, he’s as weird as you are.”

Yuuri laughs. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, if you’re not going for it, then I am.”

“Didn’t go too well with that guy at the bar?”

“No, I got his number, but then I started to worry about you, so I went home.”

“What would I do without my knight in shining armor?” Yuuri mocks and grins at Phichit. Phichit tightens the arm he has thrown around his shoulders, pulling him into a half hug. They stay like that for the remainder of the day, watching movies on Phichit’s laptop.

…

He sees Viktor a few times after that, somehow always with Phichit by his side. Viktor briefly asks how he is, and Yuuri assures him that he is fine and that he is very grateful for everything Viktor did for him. He tries to ignore the grin on Phichit’s lips every time they happen to run into Viktor. Phichit knows that Yuuri is developing a crush, and quickly.

When Yuuri runs into The Most Beautiful Man in the World alone again, he’s not Ice Daddy anymore, at least it to Yuuri. He’s Viktor, which of course fits him better. Yuuri smiles shyly at him in the elevator. For once, he’s dressed like an actual adult. His shirt is clean, his jeans are whole. Most of all, he’s sober. And alone, without Phichit and his shit-eating grin.

They don’t say anything the entire way up, but when they get to the fifth floor, Viktor hesitates for just a second as he’s about to walk out of the elevator.

“Hey,” he says, turning back towards Yuuri, his hand stopping the elevator doors as they are about to close. “Would you like to get coffee with me someday?”

“Coffee?” Yuuri repeats, caught off guard.

“Or drinks, or something.” If Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d say that Viktor was rambling. But of course he isn’t. He’s The Most Beautiful Man in the World, and Yuuri is… well, he’s Yuuri. “Whatever you want.”

“You want to get coffee with me?” Yuuri asks, still processing everything.

“Or something.”

“Like a…” He’s afraid to hope, to assume Viktor’s intentions. Up until today, they’ve only ever met when Yuuri’s been a downright mess. And Viktor is class and elegance personified.

“Like a date, yeah,” Viktor confirms, before Yuuri has time to finish his sentence, much less his thoughts.

“Are you fucking with me?” Yuuri blurts out before his brain has had a chance to catch up. Viktor looks away. He almost looks a bit… hurt?

“I’m sorry, I…” he begins and now it’s Yuuri’s turn to interrupt.

“Yes,” he says, quickly, before his overthinking mind has a chance to fuck everything up. “I’m sorry, I was just…”

He musters up a smile. At least he can enjoy this while it lasts. Even if there’s no way that someone like Viktor could be seriously interested in someone like him, he’s going to go on this date and he’s going to let himself enjoy it without his ridiculous self-doubt taking over. Because he’s finally ready to admit that he has a crush, and this is the best possible thing that could’ve happened.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

Viktor breaks into a wide smile, one Yuuri has never seen before. He likes it. It looks like the way the sun feels on your skin after weeks of rain and grey skies. The way his face creases in happy smile lines, the way he gets dimples in his cheeks. It reminds him of that morning in Viktor’s apartment, when Yuuri was too embarrassed to take note of anything.

“Amazing. So we can start with coffee? Friday at seven?” Viktor asks.

“Sure.” Yuuri doesn’t even think about it. Usually he goes over his schedule in his head before agreeing to things like this. But now, everything else in his life seems unimportant.

“Let me give you my number, in case something comes up.”

Yuuri gives Viktor his phone, and Viktor quickly adds his number to the contacts.

“I’ll see you on Friday then,” Viktor says with a smile as he steps out of the elevator. Yuuri stares at his back as he walks away, until the elevator doors close and obscures his view. His heart speeds up as the realization sinks in, that he is going on a date with Viktor Nikiforov, The Most Beautiful Man in the World.

He drops his bag just inside the door, and Phichit stares at him from the couch.

“What’s with the face?”

“I’m going on a date.”

“Ohhh,” Phichit purrs his face cracking into a smirk. “With who?”

“Viktor.” Yuuri just stares at Phichit, eyes blank.

“Ice Daddy?”

“He just asked me out. Right now. In the elevator.”

“Finally!”

“What do you mean finally?” Yuuri is confused, and he slips off his shoes and makes his way over the the couch to flop down next to his roommate. “Also, can you please stop calling him Ice Daddy?”

“Have you not noticed the way he looks at you?” Phichit is wide-eyed and looking at Yuuri. “Are you serious?”

“What way?”

“Every time I’ve seen the two of you in the same space, he gets all smiley and fidgety. You’ve seriously never noticed?”

Yuuri is in disbelief. “You are fucking with me.”

“Am not.” Phichit shrugs. “Anyway, give me some details. When, where, what?”

“Friday, at seven. Coffee.”

“Coffee,” Phichit says, making quotation marks in the air and grinning like a madman.

“Yes, coffee. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

…

Friday comes, and the week that leads up to it is agonizing. Yuuri spends way too long figuring out what to wear. Phichit insists that he looks fine, all while having his eyes glued to the screen of his laptop. He offers to do Yuuri’s makeup, but Yuuri declines. Though Phichit’s eyeliner game is on point, it’s not really a style Yuuri likes for himself.

He settles on wearing his nicest pair of jeans, with a light blue t-shirt and a dark blue cardigan over it. Even as he’s wearing some of the nicest clothes he owns, he feels like a homeless person when he meets up with Viktor in the elevator. He’s dressed in a plain white button up and a sleek blazer, but somehow he pulls it off in a way that Yuuri has never seen before.

“You look nice,” Viktor comments, and Yuuri feels his cheeks heat up.

“Thank you,” he says. “You too.”

There’s a pressed silence for the ride down, and finally Yuuri breaks it.

“So where are we going?” he asks, looking a Viktor as they walk outside.

“There’s a cozy little cafe just a couple of blocks this way that I thought we could try out,” Viktor explains, smiling at Yuuri. “I haven’t been there myself yet, but a friend of mine swears by it. Do you know it?”

“I think so. I go this way to work every morning.”

“Oh, what do you work with?”

“I work as a graphic designer at a publishing house not far from here.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, for two years now,” he smiles. He likes his job, and his happy to let Viktor know that he is a proper adult with a proper job. “So what do you do?”

“Well, I mostly do translation work nowadays.”

“Translation work for what?”

“Novels, mostly, but I do some nonfiction and textbook too occasionally.”

They arrive at the cafe, and the conversation comes to a halt. They order and Viktor pays for both of them without even batting an eye. Black coffee for Yuuri, latte for Viktor. There’s a free spot in the corner by the window, and they sit down on opposite sides of the small table.

“So translation,” Yuuri begins, blowing on his coffee to cool it down. “Which languages?”

“English and Russian are my native languages, so I mostly translate Russian novels. Recently I’ve gotten into some French works as well.”

“How many languages do you speak?”

“Only those three,” Viktor says, playing with the spoon in his coffee. “Oh, and some Italian. But not well enough to translate professionally.”

“Nothing ‘only’ about speaking four languages, that’s amazing,” Yuuri tells him. He’s kind of in awe of this beautiful man who just waves away his compliment.

“Tell me something more about yourself,” he says, shifting in his chair, long legs stretching out and settling against Yuuri’s under the table. The warm touch is distracting, though Yuuri isn’t even sure Viktor is aware of it.

“Well.” Yuuri doesn’t know where to begin, so he just goes into rambling mode. “I was born in Japan, but my family moved here when I was three, so I don’t really remember anything from there. But my family runs a Japanese-style hot spring resort, so that’s something.”

“Hot springs? That sounds lovely.”

“You should go sometime, it’s really nice.”

“Only if you take me there,” Viktor says, running his foot over Yuuri’s leg. On purpose, by accident? Yuuri doesn’t know, but he presses back briefly focusing on that instead of the blush that threatens to rise to his cheeks,

“So how long have you lived here?” Yuuri changes the subject. He’s almost sure that Viktor is flirting with him, but he doesn’t understand what this man sees in him.

“I moved here last month, when I got a job in town.”

After some time, they figure out that they work at the same publishing house, only different departments, and Yuuri is amazed that they haven’t met before. Viktor says that he works a lot from home, so that may be it.

When their coffee cups are empty, and they go to leave, Yuuri musters up confidence to ask if Viktor wants to do something else.

“There’s a bar nearby that has good beer,” he tells his companion, who considers it for a moment.

“How about we go back to my place instead?” he suggests. “You can meet my Makkachin.”

“Your Makkachin?”

“My dog. I don’t think you saw him last time.”

Last time. Last time he was in Viktor’s apartment is the last thing he wants to think about right now, or he might have the urge to throw himself off from a balcony in shame.

“No, I don’t think I did,” he answers, instead of screaming out loud.

“Then again, you were quite drunk.”

“Yeah.” The urge to scream gets stronger, but Yuuri suppresses it.

They come back to Viktor’s apartment. Yuuri considers calling it a night after almost letting his embarrassment about last time decide on his actions, but when Viktor grabs his hand and asks him to come in, Yuuri is powerless to do anything but follow him.

This time, a large, happy poodle greets them at the door.

“Makkachin, say hello to Yuuri!”

Yuuri crouches down to pet Makkachin’s head. The dog wags his tail happily and follows after them as they make their way into Viktor’s living room.

“Make yourself at home,” Viktor tells him and motions towards the couch. Yuuri sits down, as Viktor goes to open a glass cabinet in the kitchen. “Do you like wine?”

“Sure,” Yuuri calls back as he scratches Makkachin behind the ears. The big dog wags his tail happily.

“White or red?”

“Surprise me?”

Viktor grins at him and returns with a bottle of red and two glasses. Yuuri takes one of them and lets Viktor pour wine for both of them. As he sits back he notices some notes on the coffee table. There are Cyrillic words written in neat writing.

“Russian?” Yuuri asks as he picks them up to inspect.

“Yeah. Just some notes from work.”

“So,” Yuuri begins, eager to get the conversation going again. “Have you been to Russia?”

Viktor laughs. “I was born there. In St. Petersburg. We only moved to America when I was in my teens.”

“I could never guess. You don’t really have that thick an accent.”

“I guess I have an ear for languages.” Viktor shrugs.

“Say something in Russian.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Just something.”

So Viktor does. His voice goes lower when he speaks Russian, and it sends shivers down Yuuri’s spine.

“What does that mean?”

Viktor gives him a mischievous grin. “I guess that’s for me to know and for you to wonder about.”

“Ah, come on, tell me.”

“Nope~” Viktor sings, laughing.

“Okay then,” Yuuri says at last.

“You mentioned that your parents run a resort?” Viktor asks, trying to change the subject. Yuuri decides to answer in Japanese.

“What?” Viktor asks, leaning in. Yuuri repeats himself.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing.”

They end up having a full conversation, with Yuuri only speaking Japanese and Viktor only speaking Russian. Yuuri mostly just speaks nonsense, in a very dramatic voice, as he knows Viktor won’t understand either way. After a particularly long string of fast, Russian sentences, Yuuri just shoots:

“What did you call my mother?”

Viktor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders as they both collapse into a giggle fit. Viktor’s arm around him feels nice. He’s warm and solid and Yuuri just wants to drown in him.

As they laugh, Viktor accidentally drops his wineglass, spilling the red liquid over Yuuri’s shirt.

“Oh god,” he exclaims. “I’m so sorry. I’ll wash the shirt for you. Take it off.”

“No no, it’s okay,” Yuuri smiles.

But Viktor insists, and soon, Yuuri has changed from his own stained shirt to one of Viktor’s. It’s a white button up that smells clean and hangs a bit too big on Yuuri’s smaller frame. They stand in Viktor’s bedroom, and Viktor puts his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, smoothing out the fabric.

“Looks good on you,” he comments, his eyes wandering over Yuuri’s torso, making him feel a bit self conscious. But excited at the same time, because this is Viktor, The Most Beautiful Man in the World, that’s looking at him like this.

“I’m sure it looks better on you.” He’s probably had one glass of wine too much. Not enough to make him wasted but enough to make the room spin just a bit, and make the impulse to reach up to kiss Viktor almost uncontrollable.

“No no no,” Viktor says, his eyes still admiring Yuuri. His gaze stills on Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri is about to say something, but his voice won’t obey him. Viktor is too close, too warm and he smells too good and his eyes are too blue and…

When Viktor kisses him, and Yuuri’s mind goes blank. Their noses bump together awkwardly, and Yuuri’s glasses are pushed askew. Still, Viktor’s lips are softer than Yuuri has ever imagined, and Yuuri has imagined them a lot. Hands slide into his hair to cup the back of his head, thumbs caressing his cheeks tenderly. It’s careful, tentative, like a question. As they pull back, Viktor searches his face with that intense but still unsure gaze.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, their lips still close, foreheads touching. Yuuri answers by gripping Viktor by the waist as he kisses him again. When Yuuri’s glasses gets in the way again, Viktor chuckles against his mouth and reaches up to take them off. His touch is so careful, like Yuuri’s made of glass, like he’ll crack under Viktor’s fingers.

“Much better,” Yuuri murmurs. He’s craved this, ever since that hungover morning, when Yuuri didn’t even know Viktor’s name yet. Now, he knows that he was born in St Petersburg, that he’s a translator, that he speaks four languages, that his laugh is contagious, that his kisses are intoxicating.

Yuuri isn’t as careful as Viktor. He kisses with unrelenting passion, hands on Viktor’s hips, pulling him closer. He slips his tongue against Viktor’s lips and moans when Viktor meets him halfway. Then a thought hits him; his anxiety catches up with him, through the haze of wine and kisses. What if this is it? He doesn’t want Viktor to just be a one time thing. This is only the first time, but Yuuri already knows that he wants to kiss these lips forever.

He can’t get enough of it, of Viktor’s soft lips pressing against his. But he has to stop. As Yuuri pulls back, Viktor’s lips find his neck instead. Yuuri can’t stop the soft moan that leaves him and he feels Viktor’s smile against his neck.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you,” he murmurs against Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri doesn’t believe him. His anxiety doesn’t let him. He has to stop. He doesn’t want to ruin this. He doesn’t want Viktor to get tired of him already.

“I think I should go home,” he says.

Viktor pulls back abruptly and looks at him with furrowed brows. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No.” Yuuri’s hands grip at Viktor’s shirt, fidgeting with the fabric. “It’s perfect. You’re-”

“So stay,” Viktor interrupts him, kissing the corner of his mouth. Electric warmth shoots through Yuuri’s body.

“I can’t. Not tonight.”

Viktor sighs, but then he smiles. His hands runs over Yuuri’s shoulders and chest, smoothing the fabric, lingering enough for Yuuri to feel his warmth seep though to his skin.

“When can I see you again?”

Whenever you want, now, always, Yuuri wants to tell him. He’s falling, hard and fast, and he’s scared. He’s never felt this way before.

“I’m free on Sunday?”

“Sounds perfect.” Viktor leans in to press a soft kiss to Yuuri’s lips. And Yuuri wants more, wants to stay. Instead he kisses back, just as softly, before pulling back. Viktor’s hands slide down his arms to take his hands. He gives them a squeeze. “I have a plan. Meet you downstairs at two on Sunday?”

“Okay.”

One more soft kiss and Yuuri is out the door. It takes all his willpower not to stay, but he’s afraid that he’s going to ruin it if things go too fast.

When he’s home, Phichit is already asleep, so Yuuri heads for the shower. As his grips at his cock under the hot water, he imagines Viktor, sprawled out on white sheets, moaning his name.

…

“So how did your date go, Yuuuuuuri?” Before Yuuri has even made his way to the coffee pot, he hears Phichit’s teasing voice. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

“It went well, I think,” Yuuri tells him, his voice still laced with sleepy drowsiness, despite it being almost past noon. Whatever, it’s Saturday, it’s okay to sleep in.

“Just well?” Phichit gasps. “Come on, Yuuri, give me the details.”

“Don’t you get sick of gossip?”

“Not when it’s about my best friend’s love life. Now spill!”

“We had coffee, then drinks, then we went back to his place for a while. Nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” Phichit wiggles his eyebrows.

“We didn’t have sex.”

“I never said that!”

“You implied it.”

“Did not,” Phichit pouts. “So why, pray tell, did you not do the horizontal mambo with this fine piece of man meat?”

“It was only a first date.”

“Oh, right. Because you’re pure and virginal and all that,” Phichit shoots sarcastically. “Anyway, this wasn’t nearly as fun as I imagined. Look here instead.”

Phichit shows him the trailer for a movie they’ve both been waiting for, and the conversation thankfully leaves the subject of Yuuri’s love life. Later, they go over to Leo, and Yuuri manages to distract his nerves from his upcoming second date with The Most Beautiful Man in the World.

Viktor texts him later in the evening, telling him to not wear his nicest clothes. Yuuri immediately wonders what the hell Viktor has planned for Sunday.

…

Come Sunday, the weather is nice, only a couple of fluffy clouds staining the blue sky. It’s got the same color as Viktor’s eyes, Yuuri notes as they make their way outside. Viktor refuses to tell him where they’re going, and takes his hand as they walk to Viktor’s car. It’s sleek and black and looks expensive, like a lot of Viktor’s possessions.

Viktor’s puts a hand on Yuuri’s thigh as he drives, and Yuuri is hyper aware of the warmth that he can feel even through his jeans. He manages to make some conversation, but he can se the faint smirk on Viktor’s face every time he shifts his hand and Yuuri’s breath catches. Mostly though, Yuuri just tries to get Viktor to reveal where they’re going.

“It’s not a very extravagant place,” Viktor tells him.

“So tell me.”

“Nope~,” he almost sings, still grinning. “It’s still a surprise.”

Finally, they pull up at an ice rink.

“Do you like ice skating?”

Yuuri considers it for a moment. Back in when he still lived at home, he used to figure skate competitively. Never at a very high level, but he learned some basic spins and jumps before he quit to go to college. But it would be so much fun to surprise Viktor in return.

“I don’t know,” he lies. “I’ve never skated in my life.”

“You’re in for a treat then,” Viktor says and smiles.

They go inside and Yuuri lets Viktor take the lead, helping him find the right kind of skates and the right size. They decide against hockey skates, to Yuuri’s relief, since Viktor also figure skated when he was younger and figures he’ll teach Yuuri some basics. Yuuri lets himself enjoy the feeling of Viktor tying his skates, the warmth of his fingers seeping through the fabric of Yuuri’s jeans, lingering on his skin. He also reluctantly accepts the helmet that Viktor offers him. Gotta play the part.

Out on the ice, there’s a lot of people. It’s a medium-sized rink, with a diverse clientele. There are inexperienced couples skating and laughing together as they fall more than they skate, kids with their parents, girls practicing spins, and guys with heavy helmets and hockey sticks.

Yuuri wobbles as he steps out on the ice, true to his character of the first-time ice skater.

“Just relax,” Viktor tells him, coming up behind him to carefully place his hands on Yuuri’s waist. They skate around the rink a few times, and Yuuri struggles to keep up his facade. It’s hard to pretend to be bad at something that you’re actually pretty good at, Yuuri decides. It’s worth it though, as Viktor is never far away, always holding his hand, his waist, his back.

“I think I’m getting to hang of this,” Yuuri says at last, deciding to end the performance. The speeds up, leaving Viktor’s side.

“Yuuri,” he hears Viktor say, his tone worried. “Be careful.”

And so Yuuri turns to skate backwards, first making sure he’s got a clear path before he meets Viktor’s shocked expression.

“This isn’t so hard.” He grins. This was so worth it.

He releases Viktor’s gaze and uses an empty stretch of ice to do a toe loop. He’s out of practice and it’s not nearly as clean as it used to be, but Viktor’s chin drops nonetheless.

“Easy-peasy,” he teases as he skates past Viktor again.

“You little liar,” Viktor says as they stop by the side of the rink. His voice is harsh, but his eyes are glowing. Yuuri has to look away. “What was that little act about not knowing how to skate?”

“I wanted to surprise you too.”

Viktor just smiles, and for a moment, the world around them melts away. The only things that are real are Viktor’s icy blue eyes and the hand that rests warmly against Yuuri’s waist.

“I would really like to kiss you now,” Viktor tells him, voice lowered to a murmur. He’s come closer. When, Yuuri doesn’t know.

“Okay.”

It’s chaste, soft, and brief. They’re in public, after all. But Viktor’s soft lips sends chills through Yuuri’s body, and butterflies flutter in his belly. He feels calm and at peace, but still filled with desire. He hopes this is real, that this will last, this feeling that makes all edges soft, that calms his nerves and silences the nagging anxiety in his head.

He hopes Viktor feels it too.

…

They text throughout the next week, but they don’t see each other. It feels a bit strange considering they live in the same building.

Come Friday, Yuuri sends: “Hey, my friend is having a party tonight. Wanna be my plus one?”

“I’d love to,” comes the reply, and Yuuri smiles so hard at his phone that Phichit finally asks what’s up with him.

“Viktor’s coming to JJ’s party.”

“Awesome,” Phichit exclaims. “We finally get to meet your mystery boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. It’s too early.”

Viktor coming to the party means that Yuuri needs to impress someone. Usually, he just picks a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Now, he agonizes once again. He has to look good throughout the night, and he panics just a little bit, because Viktor is The Most Beautiful Man in the World, and what if he realizes that Yuuri isn’t worth his time?

Phichit calms him down, telling him that it’s going to be alright, that Viktor already likes him. This time, Yuuri takes him up on his offer to do his makeup and a bit of foundation and discreet eyeliner later, Yuuri is feeling decidedly more ready to face The Most Beautiful Man in the World.

An hour before they’re going to leave, he gets another text from Viktor.

“Can I bring a friend?” it reads, and Yuuri consults with Phichit who argues that if Viktor is as hot as he is, then his friends must be hot too. Which of course means that yes, Viktor can bring a friend.

The friend is hot, it turns out, but not nearly as hot as Viktor, Yuuri notes as he and Phichit meets up with them. He’s got bleached hair, his darker natural hair color coming through in his undercut, green eyes and the longest eyelashes Yuuri has ever seen.

“Chris,” he introduces himself to Yuuri and Phichit. Viktor and Phichit are formally introduced to each other as well, and Viktor greets Yuuri with a kiss on the cheek and a murmured praise about how good he looks. It sends sparks through Yuuri, who smiles and hopes no one notices.

“So whose party is it?” Viktor asks.

“Oh, an old college buddy of ours just bought a house together with his girlfriend, so it’s sort of a housewarming party,” Yuuri explains.

“And he invited just about everyone we ever talked to in college, so there will probably be a lot of people there,” Phichit adds.

JJ is already wasted when they get there. Isabella, his lovely fiancée greets them instead, courteously apologizing for the mess, as if anyone would mind. Leo and Guang-Hong is already there, and Yuuri sits down with them. Yuuri’s never been really big on parties. He usually gets anxious around new people and drinks too much to compensate and ends up forgetting the entire night. It’s the last thing he wants to do that this time, when Viktor is here, so he decides to keep to the people he knows.

Viktor sits down next to him, after he has introduced himself to Yuuri’s friends. He only introduces himself as “Viktor”, but Leo gives Yuuri a knowing smile.

“Beer?” Yuuri offers Viktor, fetching a can from his bag.

“Thanks.”

They continue talking to Leo and Guang-Hong. Yuuri is way too aware of the warmth of Viktor’s thigh pressing against his own, and the arm that Viktor has slung over the back of the couch. It’s not quite around Yuuri’s shoulders, but it would be, if Yuuri leaned back or scooted closer. He forgets to listen to what Leo is saying, and he’s glad that Viktor is making easy conversation instead. He’s too charismatic for his own good, Yuuri decides, as he wishes that Viktor only had eyes for him.

Two beers later, Yuuri excuses himself to the bathroom. Viktor gives him a glance that’s impossible to read. When he gets back, someone has turned the music up, and an impromptu dance floor has formed in the middle of the living room. Despite being slightly tipsy, Yuuri is way too sober to dance, and he’s not planning on getting any drunker than this, so he escapes into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

That’s where Viktor finds him. Stood by the sink, Yuuri feels a warm form press up against his back. He turns around and is faced with Viktor’s beautiful smile.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and his breathe smells slightly of beer. Yuuri doesn’t mind.

“Hey,” Yuuri responds as Viktor’s hands creep up to grip at Yuuri’s waist. “Are you having fun?”

“I am now.”

“You don’t think my friends are fun?” Yuuri teases as he lets his hands wander up to rest on Viktor’s shoulders. He’s feeling a little tipsy. Not nearly as bad as it usually gets, but enough to dismiss the anxiety and nervousness that too easily pools in his belly.

“Not as fun as you are.” Viktor’s voice stays low, barely more than a murmur, almost drowned out by the sound of the music from the next room. His hands wander over Yuuri’s sides and he leans into him, kissing him softly. Yuuri’s head is spinning. Is it the alcohol? Is it Viktor? Probably both, but who knows, honestly.

It’s different from before. Viktor is kissing him with purpose, every last trace of hesitation or carefulness gone. His hands slip in under Yuuri’s shirt where they caress and tickle. His hips are pressed against Yuuri’s, pinning him to the sink. Their kisses are past caution. They’re hungry, quick, deep. Viktor’s tongue is in his mouth and Yuuri moans, gripping helplessly at his shoulders, trying to gain some leverage to get closer.

It’s as if Viktor can read his thoughts. Grabbing him by the thighs, he lifts Yuuri off the ground like he weighs nothing, and sets him down on the kitchen counter. Yuuri responds by pulling him closer, wrapping his legs around his hips. Viktor hums in approval against Yuuri’s lips before he kisses down his cheek and neck, pausing to suck on his throat for a moment. Yuuri is thankful for the loud music as he tries, and fails, to stifle a moan.

“Fuck, Yuuri,” Viktor gasps and thrusts up against Yuuri. He’s hard enough for Yuuri to feel him through their clothes, and Yuuri would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting there as well.

“We have to slow down,” Yuuri pants against Viktor’s temple, weakly pushing at his shoulders.

“Again?” Viktor questions, grabbing Yuuri’s hips to thrust against him again.

“Unless you want to get caught with your dick down my throat in someone else’s kitchen.”

It’s the alcohol, all inhibitions gone, Yuuri tells himself even though he’s only had two beers. Viktor presses against him again, a half-choked moan leaving his throat at Yuuri’s lewd words. He looks like he’s considering it for just a moment, his hands stroking Yuuri’s skin underneath his shirt. “Yuuuuuuri.”

“No.” It’s said with less conviction than intended, because it’s hard to focus when Viktor is so close, so hot, so incredibly, mind-numbingly sexy.

“You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Take me home with you and I won’t be,” Yuuri teases further, letting his hands slide down to grab Viktor’s ass. In return, Viktor leans in to join their lips again, sucking on Yuuri’s lower lip for a moment before slipping his tongue into his mouth.

Then, he stops, sighs, and gives Yuuri the saddest smile imaginable.

“Chris is crashing at my place,” he says, leaning his forehead against Yuuri’s shoulder. “He lives two hours away and he’s staying the entire weekend.”

…

They make their way home when both Phichit and Chris are just a bit too drunk. When they part in the elevator, Yuuri presses a long kiss to Viktor’s lips. The feeling lingers, a tingling warmth, as Yuuri’s gaze follows Viktor’s back when he leaves, one arm around Chris’ waist to keep him from falling, until the elevator doors obscure his view.

“Do you think they’ve ever fucked?” Phichit blurts out, breaking the silence as he and Yuuri walk through the front door.

“What? No! I don’t know!” Yuuri rambles. The thought hadn’t occurred to him. But of course, that could be the case.

“If not, you think I could fuck him?” Phichit continues, to drunk to notice how the thought of Viktor and Chris having sex makes Yuuri’s anxiety flare up again.

“Sure, go for it,” he just says, as he helps Phichit to bed.

…

Yuuri gets a text the next afternoon. He’s still in bed, with his laptop on his stomach, looking at some anime he’s just gotten into.

“You make it home okay last night?” it reads. Yuuri can’t help but smile.

“It was hard, all those minutes in the elevator, but we made it through,” he replies, grinning at his phone. It buzzes again not two minutes later. There’s a picture attached.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t take you home with me.” The picture is a selfie. Against white sheets, the same white sheets that Yuuri once spent the night in, that embarrassingly drunken night a few weeks back, is Viktor. His sleep-tousled hair falls into squinting bedroom eyes as sunlight hits his face. His shirt is nowhere to be found, revealing pronounced collar bones and a pale, chiseled chest, covered with wispy, fair hair.

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat, and he’s not sure what to respond with. No one’s allowed to look that good while hungover, the day after a party. Most of all though, he’d just like to run down the stairs and pin Viktor to the bed, suck hickeys into that perfect skin and make him scream in pleasure.

…

“When does Chris leave?” Yuuri texts Viktor the next day.

“He left this morning. I’m going to a meeting right now, will be home in the afternoon.”

Yuuri is feeling brave. He snaps about thirty pictures of himself laying on his bed shirtless before he finds one he’s happy with, and before he has time to change his mind, he sends it. It takes Viktor two hours to answer, but when he does, it’s short and concise.

“I want you so bad right now,” he simply writes.

“Then come get it. I’m home alone and the door is open.”

Twenty minutes later, Yuuri hears the front door open and shut. He hears the lock turn, and seconds later the man appears in the doorway to Yuuri’s bedroom.

Yuuri leans back on his elbows on the bed. He’s shirtless and his pants are unbuttoned. He’s hard underneath the thin fabric of his underwear and though he can’t see the details of Viktor’s face without his glasses, he knows that Viktor can see him, see how hard he is for Viktor. He feels exposed, but it’s thrilling at the same time. He makes eye contact with Viktor, who is stood in the doorway, gaze glued to Yuuri. Slowly, he walks across the room, and Yuuri sits up on the bed to meet him. He’s in a perfectly tailored suit, and Yuuri grabs him by the tie and pulls him down on top of him.

There’s no hesitation, no resistance. Yuuri has waited for this, has wanted this, for too long to hesitate now. The fabric of Viktor’s suit rubs against Yuuri’s bare skin, making it tingle. Viktor’s hands pull on Yuuri’s pants, and in a swift motion, he pulls them off, before leaning down over Yuuri again. Yuuri doesn’t have time to be nervous as Viktor grinds against him, hands on his hips. Yuuri moans. Phichit isn’t home, won’t be home until tomorrow, so Yuuri doesn’t have to be quiet, and he loves it.

Rolling them over, Yuuri straddles Viktor’s hips. Viktor just smiles and lets his hands continue to rest of Yuuri’s hips, guiding them to grind into his own. Viktor is as hard as Yuuri is, and it fills Yuuri with a giddy feeling to know that he’s the one who made Viktor this aroused.

“Yuuri,” Viktor pants, as he urges Yuuri closer, until he’s almost straddling his shoulders.

“Viktor, what-” He doesn’t finish the sentence as it turns into a moan when Viktor takes Yuuri into his mouth through his underwear.

Yuuri has been with men before. He’s been with women as well. None has sucked him quite as well as Viktor does when he finally pulls down Yuuri’s boxer briefs and takes his slick erection into his mouth fully. Soft lips and wet tongue engulf him in warmth and he moans, gripping at Viktor’s hair. Slick with saliva and pre-cum, his dick slides easily in and out of Viktor’s hot mouth.

When he realizes how hard his grip on his hair is he lets go and scoots back.

“I’m so sorry, Viktor!”

Viktor gazes up at him, eyes burning, mouth wet and shiny. He then grabs Yuuri’s hands and places them back in his hair before moving to grip at Yuuri’s hips, taking his erection into his mouth again. Yuuri groans and tightens his grip. His mind blanks when he feels Viktor’s throat relax and he takes him in all the way. He fights the urge to grab Viktor forcefully by the hair and take control as Viktor deep-throats him again.

“Viktor…” Yuuri moans. “Viktor, I’m gonna- If you-”

When Viktor doesn’t stop, Yuuri scoots back, straddling his waist and leaning down to kiss him again. He needs to calm down, or else this encounter is going to be very brief. Viktor looks absolutely ravishing. His hair is a mess, his clothes as well. Wet lips and bright eyes irresistible.

“Oh, fuck, Viktor…” Yuuri pulls him into a sitting position by his tie. Their faces are close, breaths mingling between them. “Where the fuck did you learn that?”

“Here and there.” Viktor smirks and Yuuri pulls him into a kiss. As Viktor’s tongue slips into his mouth, he can taste himself. He groans, pulling harder on Viktor’s tie, making Viktor moan desperately.

“You have way too much clothing on,” Yuuri comments and slides Viktor’s blazer off his shoulders to discard it somewhere on the floor. Kissing his way down Viktor’s neck and chest, he unbuttons his shirt until his lips meet his belt. Viktor helps him pull down pants and underwear by lifting his hips.

“Mm, Yuuri,” he whines as Yuuri places a long lick along the length of his shaft. Viktor’s got a great dick, unsurprisingly. His entire being is beautiful, so Yuuri would be more surprised if he had in ugly penis. But it’s hard and long and slick with pre-cum already as Yuuri takes it into his mouth. Viktor’s fingers comb through his hair as sweet little sounds fall from his lips. Needy moans, breathy sighs, and Yuuri sucks long and deep, pausing occasionally to swirl his tongue around the head, pulling more addicting sounds from Viktor every time.

“Ah, ah, Yuuuuuri-” he moans.

“Hmm?” Yuuri hums, a silent question, a wish, as he presses kisses to Viktor’s hip, looking up to meet intense blue eyes.

“I want to fuck you.” A warm spike of desire shoots to Yuuri’s groin as Viktor says it. “Can I?”

The only response Yuuri can give is a choked moan and an eager nod as he sits back on his knees pulling his underwear off. For a moment, he lets himself admire the sight in front of him. Viktor is sprawled out on the sheets, sweat making his chest glow. He’s still dressed in his shirt that’s unbuttoned to expose his chest, and the tie that’s loosened but still hangs around his neck. His hard cock rests against his hip, pink and slick with pre-cum and saliva.

Yuuri prepared himself the minute he knew Viktor was on his way, stretching his hole with his fingers, imagining Viktor’s thick cock in their place. Now, he grabs a condom and a tube of lube from his bedside drawer. Straddling Viktor’s thighs, he slides the condom onto Viktor, teasingly slow.

“Come here,” Viktor almost growls, grabbing Yuuri’s ass and pulling him closer. As his fingers slide between his cheeks, he smiles. “Already ready for me?”

“Mm,” Yuuri hums as he pours lube into his hand, gives Viktor’s erection a few slow strokes, slicking it up. At last, he positions himself and sits down, slowly, slowly on Viktor’s cock. A long, loud moan leaves his lips as he’s filled up, better and fuller than he’s been in a long time. It takes a moment to adjust, and as Yuuri moves his hips experimentally, Viktor’s hands tighten on his hips.

“Okay?” Viktor whispers as Yuuri leans down to kiss him. He answers by picking up the pace, bracing his hands against the mattress above Viktor’s head as he rides him hard. Viktor moans into his mouth as their kisses turn desperate, his hands running over Yuuri’s sides, caressing smooth skin. Warm hands and warm lips makes Yuuri’s skin tingle as Viktor turns his kisses to every bit of skin that he can reach as Yuuri rides him. Hips thrust to meet Yuuri’s, fucking into him deeper every time.

“Hey,” Viktor pants, his hands grabbing Yuuri’s ass, guiding his hips to a calmer pace. “Slow down.”

Yuuri sits up straight, and can’t hold in his moans as the new position lets him take Viktor’s dick even deeper. Viktor is a beautiful image beneath him, sweaty and panting and moaning as enchanted blue eyes are locked on Yuuri and only Yuuri. With another desperate moan, Yuuri throws his head back, mouth hanging open, as Viktor’s hands squeeze and knead his ass, guiding him back and forth on his cock.

“A-ahh, Viktor~” he moans as he leans back and places his hands on Viktor’s thighs, resting his weight there as Viktor guides his hips. There’s a hot feeling building in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach with every thrust of Viktor’s cock inside him, every slide against his prostate. “Viktor, Viktor, please-”

Grabbing Viktor by the tie, Yuuri pulls him up into a sitting position. Viktor follows easily, his hands sliding to his waist to hold him close. Yuuri finds his lips once more and kisses him, long and deep, all tongues and saliva and broken moans. Viktor wraps one arm around Yuuri’s waist, while his other hand begins jerking his cock, fast and in time with the thrusts of their hips. They rock together like that, and Yuuri lets his arms snake around Viktor’s shoulders pulling him close as they kiss.

“Yuuri, I-I’m close,” Viktor moans against his lips. And Yuuri is getting close as well, with Viktor’s hand jerking him and his cock thrusting deep inside of him.

“Mm, come for me,” he pants, kissing Viktor again, hard and deep.

They don’t last long after that. Yuuri comes with a loud moan, Viktor following soon after as Yuuri’s orgasm tenses him up, squeezing Viktor even tighter. Panting, Viktor falls back against the sheets. Yuuri lets Viktor’s cock slip out of him, curling up to Viktor’s side, nuzzling the side of his neck as the two of them come down from their high, sweaty and out of breath.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” Viktor says when they’ve caught their breaths, his fingers drawing slow patterns on Yuuri’s hip.

“I think I might be,” Yuuri murmurs against Viktor’s neck.

“At least we’re dreaming together then.” Viktor’s arms tighten around him, and Yuuri revels in the calm warmth of Viktor’s body next to his.

“Phichit won’t be home until tomorrow, wanna spend the night?”

“Hmm.” Viktor sits up on the bed. “How about you come up to me?”

When Yuuri looks at him questioningly, he adds: “My bed is larger.”

…

Yuuri wakes up between Viktor’s silky sheets the next morning. Thin curtains do little to keep the morning sun out and the apartment smells like bacon and coffee. The space next to him on the bed is empty but still warm and smells like Viktor. It’s only when he sits up and stretches that he realizes how sore he is. After the escapades in Yuuri’s apartment, they kept going most of the night at Viktor’s place, pausing to talk occasionally, and oh god, Yuuri thinks he’s in love.

These last weeks of getting to know Viktor has been fun, and he only hopes that Viktor feels the same way. But it’s been casual, nothing fancy. Is it supposed to be fancy? Yuuri doesn’t know. It’s like all his knowledge of dating and relationships is gone and all he’s left with is cold and uncomfortable doubt making his head and his heart heavy.

But last night was… unlike anything he had ever experienced.

His train of thought is interrupted when Viktor bursts in through the door, shirtless, with a tray in his arms.

“Oh, you’re awake?” He smiles as he sets down the tray on the bed next to Yuuri. There’s eggs and bacon and pancakes, along with two cups of coffee. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, leaning up to press a kiss to Viktor’s cheek as the man sits down next to him on the bed. “Not every day you get breakfast in bed.”

“Anything for you.”

“I’ll have to go to the gym later though,” Yuuri adds. “If you keep feeding me like this, I’ll get fat.”

“More of you to love,” Viktor murmurs into his hair. Yuuri blushes. He’s serious though. The only reason that he’s not chubby anymore is that he goes to the gym four times a week and has cut all types of sugary and fatty foods from his diet. But for this, he decides that he can have a cheat day. “And anyway, you got enough of a workout last night. I know I’m sore at least.”

“So how did your meeting go yesterday?” Yuuri asks, changing the subject to keep from blushing.

“It went well, looks like I’ll be getting away from translating for a while.”

“Really? What’re you going to be doing then?”

“Well,” Viktor grins sheepishly, picking up an egg on his fork. “I never told you this, but I don’t only translate, I write too.”

“Really? You never told me!”

“Yeah. I use a pseudonym, but I’ve published a few books that sold pretty well.”

“No way! What kind of books do you write?”

“I write mostly mystery and drama, that sort of thing. I’ve been in a slump and have had a massive writer’s block for quite some time now though, but these last few weeks, I seem to have gotten my inspiration back.”

“Really? How come?”

“Well.” Viktor looks away, and Yuuri can swear that there’s a pink blush dusting his cheeks as he speaks. “I met you. And the world seemed… brighter again.”

“Oh.” Yuuri doesn’t know what to say, but his hand finds Viktor’s and he twines their fingers together. It feels good. Better than good. “So what is it that you are writing?”

“Romance.” Viktor looks at him again, and Yuuri wants to get lost in those eyes, wants to drown in them. “For the first time in my life, I’m writing romance.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri pushes the tray out of the way before cuddling up close, leaning his head on Viktor’s shoulder and letting his arm rest against Viktor’s bare stomach. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about a figure skater. He’s so caught up in his work that he’s never taken time to relax and enjoy his life. He’s depressed, he wants to retire.” Viktor’s arm tightens around him. “Then he meets a man, who makes the sun rise and the birds sing, and suddenly the world is in bright colors again. He becomes this man’s coach, and they fall in love and win a lot of gold medals. I’m still ironing out the details.”

“I’d read it.” Yuuri presses a kiss to Viktor’s collarbone; his is stomach buzzing with butterflies and he’s feeling giddy. Then he teases: “A bit cheesy, perhaps?”

“Don’t laugh,” Viktor smiles. “It’s based on you.”

“Viktor!”

“What do you think I should name the main characters? Vanya and Yuuki perhaps?

Yuuri bursts into laughter, pulling Viktor closer. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m not gonna name them Vanya and Yuuki.”

“Good.”

And Viktor is there, right in front of him, smiling lips pressing against his. Yuuri could never resist, even if he wanted to. There’s a softness in it, one that matches the still calm of the morning, the light and bright room they’re in. And Yuuri’s heart aches, because he wants this to never end, wants to wake up next to Viktor every morning, for the rest of his life. And he’s still not sure he can have it, the nagging anxiety in his head never really letting him believe that he will be happy.

“Viktor,” Yuuri breaks the kiss, his voice trembling a bit as he musters up the courage to ask what he has been wanting to ask. The room is light and bathed in morning sun, and it’s all too wonderful, too beautiful. Too perfect to last. “What are we?”

Viktor looks at him, blue eyes unreadable for a moment beneath his platinum bangs. Then he breaks into a smile. “You’re my boyfriend, of course.”

“Your-”

“Do you think I make breakfast in bed for people who aren’t my boyfriend?” Viktor says with a teasing smile. They his face gets serious. “Unless you feel differently?”

“No, no, no, I just thought-” Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. Emotions are overwhelming and untrustworthy. But there’s a wave of relief in the cocktail of feelings swirling in Yuuri right now. There’s confusion. And there’s joy. “I’m so mediocre, and you’re… you.”

“What does that even mean?” Viktor pulls back and gives Yuuri some space, propping his head up on his hand as he looks at him intently. “You’re amazing. I’m amazed that you chose me.”

Yuuri smiles and reaches over to take Viktor’s hand in his. He brings it up to his lips and presses a kiss to each knuckle and each fingertip before he lets it go and leans back on his pillow. Looking at the ceiling, he asks:

“What did you even think of me when you first met me?”

“I thought you were beautiful.”

“Quit joking around.” Viktor smiles softly and looks at Yuuri.

“I’m not.” He reaches over to stroke Yuuri’s cheek as that sweet smile turns into a grin. “Though the first thing I noticed were your killer abs. All on display through that drenched shirt of yours.”

“As I said, not gonna last if you keep feeding me like this.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“And also, I was so gross,” Yuuri whines, as Viktor’s hand trails down his neck and chest to caress his stomach. “I was a gross mess like the first five times I met you.”

“What do you mean?”

“First time I was drenched in sweat. Second time I spilled pizza on my shirt in front of you. I think I was hung-over at least one time. Oh, and then the time I was just straight up wasted and you had to take care of me.” Yuuri blushes a bit. “I was so sure you found me absolutely repulsive.”

Viktor is above him in a heartbeat, hands on his wrists, trapping them above his head, pushing him into the mattress. The tray clatters where is lies forgotten at the foot of the bed. Viktor’s brows are furrowed into a frown and there’s a glow in his eyes that Yuuri hasn’t seen before.

“Don’t say that.” His voice is sharp in a way that Yuuri has never heard before.

“It’s true.”

“No,” Viktor snaps. Then he leans down to kiss Yuuri’s lips softly. “You’re gorgeous. I’ve always thought you were gorgeous. Please don’t say such things about my boyfriend.”

Yuuri giggles before he kisses Viktor, The Most Beautiful Man in the World, back, and the now familiar warmth in his belly, the tingling electricity through his limbs, returns, shutting up the anxiety in his head.

As Viktor whispers sweet little praises into his skin, Yuuri finally believes him.

#yuri on ice #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #victuuri #fanfiction #i havent posted fanfic on tumblr in years #well no time like the present to start again #victuuri fic #yoi fanfic

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faces-in-unexpected-places · 4 years

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Do You Have the Time? Episode 023: The Deal

Synopsis: Leopold takes a totally non self-destructive break from his stress. Jeremy and Madison demonstrate a vastly different relationship in their recent past.

[April 24th, 2018, 18:13]

Leopold heaved himself up onto the lab bench and sat right next to the melted surface that Sophia pointed out. The lab was in total and complete disarray. He’d collected many of the large pieces of glass, but the floor was still sparkling with fine shards and glass dust. There were also many jagged pieces still sticking out of the window frame as well. Combined with Sophia’s news, his motivation to keep up a good appearance for Jeremy and Leslie was quickly plummeting. He considered waking IO out of its slumber for help with the cleaning but putting on a face even for a robot felt like a massive undertaking. If he told the others that the glass was taking longer than expected, Leslie would just volunteer herself and Jeremy to help it go faster. And then he would have to tell them what happened while they were gone. If he didn’t, they would notice that something was wrong.

At least Leslie would.

He wiggled his phone out of his pocket and reached out to them for an update.

[LEOPOLD_LESLIE_JEREMY_CONVERSATION_START_18:18]

LL: hey there you 2, how’s the search going :)

JB: Good. Leslie’s driving and we’re on our way back. JB: We took the long way.

LL: ok no problem

JB: Leslie is yelling at me to tell you that it was an accident. JB: She didn’t know where the Home Depot was.

LL: but we were just there…?

LG: I was listening to ur sotyr abt Woodstock that isn’t fair!!

LL: i thought she was the one driving?

LG: red light

LL: where r u guys? LL: hello

JB: Aaand now, it’s a green light. JB: The GPS says we’re about 20 minutes away. JB: We actually just passed Leslie’s house a few minutes ago.

LL: i finished the cleaning a little bit ago LL: y don’t u 2 just head home tonite and bring the supplies tomorrow?

JB: Are you sure? It’s only 20 mins.

LL: u guys r already in ur neighborhoods LL: and u 2 have been staying late and coming in early to work alot lately LL: u deserve a break :)

JB: She wants to know what time we’re coming in tomorrow.

LL: just be here at 9am lie everyone else LL: like* everyone else LL: hello?

JB: Sorry, just rerouting. Rush hour.

LL: no worries!

JB: Okay, Leslie’s going to take me back to my house and head home, then. JB: She’s keeping the supplies in her car overnight and will bring them tomorrow morning.

LL: ok sounds good LL: see u guys then! LL: great job today !

JB: Thanks. You too. JB: Leslie says thank you, too. JB: Sorry, she says, “Thank you!! <3”

LL: lol LL: that sounds like her

JB: Have a good night, Leopold. See you soon.

LL: see u !

[LEOPOLD_LESLIE_JEREMY_CONVERSATION_END_18:30]

Leopold grinned faintly but it was quickly washed away with exhaustion. His face was heavy and expressionless. Tired. He let himself fall off the workbench and landed on his feet. The promise of solitude filled him with a vague relief. He trudged over to the entrance to the lab and locked the doors. Many of the labs nearby had turned their lights off and were left empty for the night. He lugged himself back across the lab and carefully stepped through the sheet of glass dust on the floor of his office until he reached his desk. The lowest side-drawer contained a mess of papers and wires and junk that he should probably have gotten rid of long ago.

All the way in the back was a plastic bag and some flimsy, palm-sized pieces of paper. A small bag next to it contained a pile of grassy-looking balls. He retrieved the two bags, sat down, and dumped a dirty-green colored bud onto the paper. In his top side-drawer, he pulled out a mortar and pestle. When he ordered materials for his lab decades ago, he “accidentally” ordered an extra mortar and pestle. He ground the bud in the bowl with the pestle, sprinkled the green dust into the paper, rolled it tight, licked it together and lit it up with his handy zippo. With his feet up on the desk he took a long puff of his favorite medication and stretched his limbs out.

If he was going to be there for a while, he might as well get comfortable, too.

After today, he needed a break.

[May 13th, 2016, 1:57]

Madison sat anxiously on the couch of a dark living room, scanning the quiet, suburban neighborhood through the window for cars. She checked her phone again. A message from Jeremy ten minutes ago. It said he’d be here in five minutes. She glanced to the clock for the 3rd time. She wasn’t sure what she expected to be different, as if he would somehow arrive faster. A car slowly emerged from behind the next-door neighbor’s hedges and parked on the street in front of the house. She waited for a few seconds, then the car flashed its headlights three times. It was him! She leapt off the couch, stuffed her bare feet into her shoes and silently slipped through the front door, closing it gently behind her. She jogged down the driveway to meet him on the sidewalk.

“You made it,” she said.

“I did. How’s the situation in there?”

“They’re asleep. Went to bed around eleven or midnight.”

“Okay. We should be fine, then. Thanks for doing this,” he said.

“Sure. I wouldn’t deal with them if I didn’t have to, either.”

He shut his car door as quietly as he could and followed Madison up the driveway. He carried a small, flattened cardboard box under his arm. They entered and both took their shoes off out of habit. He followed behind her through the living room and down the hallway. They tiptoed past their parents’ bedroom and stopped at Jeremy’s old room, across the hall from Madison’s. She led him inside, shut the door and used the light from her phone to see. Jeremy observed and did the same.

“So, what are you looking for?” she asked.

“I want my keyboard and all the accessories that go with it, wax warmer and the wax cubes, and some old notes I took for some of my classes. Those can go in the box. I also want to take my bedspread and my old bookshelf. Those, I can fit in the backseat.”

“Really, the keyboard? Even after mom cracked down on your knuckles every practice session? I haven’t heard you play in forever.”

“I haven’t, really. But I can still play, and it is still mine, so I’d like to take it back.”

“Fair enough. Okay, we can do that.”

Aside from periodically bumping into each other in the dark, the plan worked out without a hitch. First, the box was taken to the car. Then the bedspread, and lastly the bookshelf. They had to be extremely careful to not bump the bookshelf into any walls or fixtures. Luckily, they had the carpeted floors on their side, so setting it down was no problem. Walking without shoes on carpet was essentially silent, as well. After waddling out to his car with the shelf, they set it down on the tree lawn to take a breather.

“You sure this is okay?” Jeremy asked.

“A little late to be asking that question, dontcha think, Jay?” she laughed through her breath.

“Will you be okay tomorrow?” he rephrased.

“I think so. Probably. Mom still goes in your room all the time, but I’ll just put one of your old bedspreads on the mattress. If she notices, I’ll just tell her that I’m washing the bedspread you took, or something.”

“What if she asks about it later?”

“I dunno. Guess I’ll figure that out later. At least I’ll buy some time to keep her off my back in the meantime. Besides, that’s only if she notices. No offense Jay, but all the comforters you’ve ever had have had stripes. They all kinda look the same.”

He chuckled, sheepishly.

“Well, just be careful.”

“I always am,” she shrugged, “So, what’s your plan now? Graduating college and everything?” she asked and took a seat on top of his trunk, “You moving far away from here? I can’t imagine the two-hour drive right now is enough distance.”

Jeremy hopped up to sit next to her. They both laid back and looked at the few stars still visible in the suburban light pollution.

“I actually came to talk to you about that,” he said.

“Hmm. So, out with it, then. Where you headed?”

“Nowhere,” he replied.

“Oh, come on, you’ve gotta have somewhere to go.”

“No, Maddie. I’m staying in Curiesville.”

“What? Why?” she sat up and cross-examined, “Don’t you want to get the hell out of Crazy Town?”

“Of course, I do. But I got accepted into a PhD program at CVU in the fall. So, I’m staying there for a while longer.”

“Wait, you’re going back to school? What the hell, man, why?”

“Most jobs I can get are entry level right now, and advancement will take a while. And I’ve always wanted to do research,” he shrugged, “A PhD is a surefire way to really contribute to the body of science. To make some real advancements. To make something new and to make the world better, you know?”

“I guess, man. If it makes you happy, at least.”

“You’re almost done with high-school, right? Two years left?”

“If half-way is almost done in your mind, then yeah, sure,” she scoffed.

“How’s it going so far?” he asked, “I know we haven’t had much time to talk about it since you started.”

“Honestly, I bitch and complain about a lot of stuff, including school, but it’s actually not so bad. I’m not in any of those fancy-pantsy AP science classes like you were, but they’re still interesting. I’ve written a few articles for the school newspaper, actually,” she smiled, “My journalism teacher runs the newspaper and seems to like having me on the team. It’s a nice way to forget about mom and dad at least.”

“That’s great. Have you thought about what you want to do afterwards?” he asked.

Madison laughed and rolled her eyes.

“You sound like everyone else, now. ‘What are you doing with your life, Maddie?’ ‘Apply to colleges early, Maddie!’ ‘Don’t vape in the girl’s bathroom, Maddie!’” she mocked.

“Wait, what?”

“To be honest, I just planned on making a break for it when I turn eighteen.”

“Where to?”

“Dunno, don’t care. Across the country maybe. They have Targets and Walmarts in every state, figured I’d just work at one of those,” she said flippantly.

“You think you’d be happy with that?” Jeremy interviewed.

“Beats wasting away at forty, living in mom’s spare room, listening her talk about what a disappointment I am.”

“You don’t want to go to college?”

“Pfff, fat chance. Nowhere to live, no colleges in mind, and no money to pay for it.”

“There’s always financial aid. Loans to take out. Scholarships, all kinds of stuff. You just have to know where to look,” Jeremy persisted.

“Yeah, maybe you could get scholarships, genius. Do I look like someone who could do that?”

“Maddie, if you have a pulse, you can get scholarships. I applied for one that awarded me $500 for having a GPA above 3.0 and explaining why I thought I deserved the scholarship. It really can be that easy.”

“I guess so. That’s still just one piece of a way bigger puzzle, though.”

“Alright, I’ll just get to the point,” Jeremy sighed and sat up, “I get a yearly stipend of $30,000 to live off while I get my PhD. With some careful searching, that can cover basically all our living expenses. Both of us. And it could leave us with a little extra left over if we need it. We can get you financial aid and loans to pay for your classes,” he argued.

Madison turned to look at him directly. She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, ruminating with her internal conflicts.

��“Whoa, whoa, man. You’re… not serious, are you?” she asked.

“If I was joking, you would be laughing, Maddie,”

She furrowed her brow and scoffed.

“Shut up,” Jeremy scoffed back, “Yes, I’m serious. So, what’s your answer?”

“…It sounds nice, honestly, Jeremy, but… I couldn’t put you out like that. You’re… I mean, God, I hate that I’m going to say this, but you’re brilliant! Crazy smart and hard-working, and shit just comes to you, but it doesn’t work like that for me. I’m not anything special. I don’t even know what I would study…”

“You’ve got time to figure it out. Just think about it. Or you could work at Target in Curiesville with a familiar face around and build up some savings. Either way… you don’t have to fend for yourself if you don’t want to.”

“…You’re really okay with that. Sharing a place and supporting the family fuck-up?”

“You’re not the family fuck-up, mom and dad are.”

She nodded and grimaced in agreement.

“Where would we live?” she probed.

“Probably an apartment. They’re usually cheaper. There’s all kinds of options that we can look at, especially when you get closer to eighteen and have been accepted to the university and/or gotten a job at the Target of your choosing.”

“…And you really think that I can do college?” she persisted in her skepticism.

“You don’t have to be perfect. All you have to do is try your best, study, and talk to your professors. Most of them really want you to succeed, too. And I’ll be there to help you along the way if you need it. Seeing as how I just went through four years of college; I could probably answer a lot of questions for you. You would just have to keep me updated on how things are going and ask for help when you need it. If you want to quit and get a job instead, that would be okay, too. Just don’t give up on your classes without withdrawing and dropping out of the next semester. Otherwise, you’ll just build debt from classes you didn’t plan on passing, and that will be harder for us to deal with.”

“Well… I guess it would be nice to know that I’ve got a place to go once I can leave…” she said to herself, “I’ll think about the college thing. But if you’re totally sure that you’re okay with finding a place together…”

“I am,” he said firmly.

Madison slowly let go of her prudent attitude and let her beaming smile shine through. She squealed under her breath and glommed onto Jeremy in excitement. He grinned and returned her hug.

“Oh, our place would look so great, too! Can you imagine? I can already see it, now! Nice couch, sweet-ass TV for movie and videogame nights with ice-cream, ugh! Why can’t I just fast-forward two years already.”

He pulled himself away to look at her.

“It’ll go by faster than you think. Especially since you have school to do until then. Make sure to keep your grades up and build some good relationships with your teachers now, so that you can have a good application to CVU, if you want it, alright? You’ll need them to write good letters of recommendation. Next time we talk, we can talk about the SAT, too.”

“Oh yeah, I actually convinced mom to get me one of those study books for it? You know the ones.”

Jeremy smirked.

“So, you were already thinking about college, then?” he analyzed.

“Wh—I—I mean—yeah, a little. Just out of curiosity. With everyone talking about it, and everything…”

“Okay. Sure. Good for you,” Jeremy teased.

“What!”

“Nothing!” he laughed, “Just impressed. Study hard. I’m sure you’ll do very well.”

“I’m not a nerd like you though, let’s make that clear,” she guarded, pushing her hands out, defensively.

“I didn’t say anything,” he grinned.

“Yeah, but you’re looking at me with that shit-eating grin!” she slapped him on the arm.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “Alright, there’s no need for violence, here. Especially since nerds can’t fight, anyway.”

“Hey!” she protested.

“What? I just meant me,” he taunted, “…and those closely related,” he mumbled.

“Jay!”

“What?! Come on, let’s get this bookshelf in the car before the sun comes up, and mom puts us in a cage or something.”

Jeremy hopped off the trunk of his car and helped Madison down, as well. They muscled the bookshelf on its side into the back of his car and shut the doors. That was everything Jeremy had returned home for. They stood on the sidewalk, avoiding the goodbye that neither wanted to say.

“So… what are you doing, now?” she asked.

“Well, I’m taking this stuff back to my place and setting it up, I suppose. I’ve had a bit more free time to make the trip out here since I graduated yesterday. Everything been okay here with mom and dad?”

“Eh, well, not much has changed, if that’s what you mean. Mom is still the same dictator she-demon she’s always been, rambling about you and how you’re basically science’s second coming of Christ, but also she hates you for moving away?”

“Makes sense.”

“And dad is… well, he’s nice sometimes, I guess. But he’ll never stand up for either of us when mom is going on an abusive tirade. Honest to god, I think he should just divorce her for his sake, even if I have to stay. He’s not here against his will, I don’t know why he doesn’t just leave.”

“Who knows. Fear, maybe? One thing I learned about dad early on is that when fear kicks in, he’s basically useless. And so long as he’s married to mom, he’s scared all the time.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Madison agreed, “Well, I’m not too scared to leave, and when I do, you and I are living it up!”

“It’ll be great,” Jeremy smiled faintly.

They both trailed off, and their talk met its natural end. He knew it was time to go. Madison watched his smile fade away, and hers followed quickly behind.

“I guess this is it, huh?” she said, “You gonna be okay making the drive back?”

“I think so. I slept in today on purpose today.”

“Heh. You even plan on sleeping in…” she chuckled, “…When are we gonna see each other again, Jay?”

“…I’m not sure. The summer will be busy for me while I work to save up some extra money for us. Maybe sometime in the fall when I get the hang of my new program.”

“Okay,” she frowned, “It’s just that… I miss ya sometimes, ya know?”

Her eyes swelled up and a tear rolled down her cheek. She kept herself composed and quiet to avoid waking anyone up.

“I miss you a lot, too, Maddie. Why do you think I planned out the next two years of your life?” he joked.

She let out a half-laugh-half-gasp.

“I guess that’s true.”

“You have my number still, right?”

“I do.”

“Good. Maybe we can talk more that way, send each other pictures and whatnot,” he sniffed.

“Yeah, good idea. We should do that.”

They both suddenly clung to each other and held on as tight as they could, quietly sniveling into each other’s shoulders. They clinched each other until their arms were tired, since they knew they wouldn’t be seeing each other for six months. Jeremy quietly spoke into her shoulder.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said.

“Heh, aww, come on, it was nothin’,” she said, “Anything to see my state-issued nerd, again,” she smiled and wiped her eyes with her forearm, “Thanks for planning me a better life.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, Jay,” she whispered.

“Love you too, Maddie.”

They squeezed each other tight once more, and disbanded. Madison then gave Jeremy space to get into his car. She stood on the sidewalk with her arms folded in front of her, watching him get ready to leave. He pulled into the next driveway across the street, turned his car around, and flashed his headlights on his way out. Madison waved goodbye from the tree lawn until she watched him turn down the next road.

Then, her neighborhood was as quiet and still as it was before he came.

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