#gotta get a good set of weapons + ur teammates need to know what to focus on with what they get
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ffish
#score didnt load till now Hi#last one i was top 2% sighhhh#idk how many more big runs there will be but i WILL hit 1% someday#i ended up beating 3 triumvirates and getting really really close with a couple others#its alot more luck based than skill based imo#gotta get a good set of weapons + ur teammates need to know what to focus on with what they get#lala
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Don’t Feed The Flames - Bucky Barnes x (f)reader, Natasha x platonic (f) reader
Summary: Bucky has made you angry after a tough mission with the crew, why you ask? Apparently he thinks it’s totally fine to run inside a burning building to help you complete the mission in question.
Warning: bit of angst, mostly a good time with the team, Bucky fluff shoved in ur welcome
-reader has fire powers btw, I don’t wanna confuse anyone lol
Masterlist
The mission was difficult to say the least, successful in its own right, but tough for everyone involved. All the Avengers were needed for this clusterfuck of a mission, minus Bruce and Thor who are elsewhere in the universe, lucky them.
All the team needed to do was infiltrated one of the last highly armed Hydra bases left in existence, get rid of the artillery and boom, slither right on in. Objective? Snatch valuable intel as to where the other bases are hiding, and surprise surprise, you and Wanda had to take care of some very pissed off experimentees who were unfortunately brainwashed beyond the point of helping them recover.
Ending the night in everyone quickly evacuating the premise with the essentials while you stayed back to blow up the base to nothing more then bricks and ash. Although during this, Bucky stayed back to shoot some freelancers who tried to take you the fuck out, with what would you know it; flame throwers.
Apparently Hydra is greatly lacking in weapons and functioning brain cells, among other things. Granted, you understood Bucky’s concern for your well-being when he ran into the fire. But oh dear lord were you not happy with him one goddamn bit.
Luckily Sam was able to pluck him out before anything fell on your idiot boyfriend while you were producing mass destruction in the giant airplane storage area. In the aftermath, you came out unharmed but covered in smudge marks and burnt off cloves yet again.
Bucky? Well he came away with a pissed off girlfriend and his life to say the least. And let’s just say the long four hour ride back was a tad bit awkward, even if you were too damn exhausted to show your irritation with Bucky. The team sure as hell knew he wasn’t going to be spared of your wrath when the jet landed.
It took approximately ten seconds for your man to shuffle out of your line of sight, using Steve as a shield to hide behind while they walked out. You had been distracted when Natasha asked for something picked up, then suddenly your mind was on Bucky. A moment later you stomped out of the Quinjet in pursuit of the one and only James Buchanan Barnes as he awaited your fury.
“James!” You growl fiercely, “You are the most fucking reckless person I’ve ever fucking met and I’m literally friends with Tony!” You snap while the rest of your teammates go about their business, trying to listen yet smartly staying out of everything.
“I know.” Mutters Bucky like a kicked puppy suffering his mother’s wrath, blue eyes looking at you with regret clearly visible on his handsome face.
“You know! You know!? Then why the fuck would you just run into the flames like that!” You shout while throwing your arms into the air in frustration, “You’re not fire proof Bucky!”
“Y/N...”
“Do you have a goddamn death wish!?” You interrupt, giving him a dumbfounded look as he glances from Steve to the floor then back to you again, trying to find something or someone with enough pity to help him.
He finds none, “Well....no.” Your brows raise yet again at his short and annoyingly blunt answers to make up for his stupidly daring boldness.
“Then why-ugh, whatever never mind.” You dismiss with a wave of your hand before quickly turning on your heels to walk for the metal doors into the main part of the facility, while the others keep their distance from your heated state.
“Wait Y/N, come back I’m sorry!” Exclaims Bucky desperately while you continue to ignore your reckless man, “You’re right I shouldn’t have....ugh...come on babe....shit...” Mutters Bucky as he watches you leave him in such a heated state.
“Dude just let her cool off, oh uh well....no pun intended.” Jokes Sam with a shrug as Bucky watches you stomp away in frustration, your body almost sizzling with actual flame.
“I didn’t mean to....well...ugh, shit I guess I kind of did.” Admits Bucky with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as you slam the door shut with a loud thud, “Sometimes I forget fire can’t hurt her. I should have just let her handle the burning building herself instead of going inside when she uh, told me not to.”
Steve walks out of the Quinjet with a bag in hand to greet the two, “Y/N seemed a bit...”
“Pissed off.” Adds Sam with a light chuckle as Bucky frowns at the giant glass window.
“Yeah.” Mutters Steve awkwardly as he side eyes Bucky, “Well ugh, see you guys at dinner, I think Wanda and Vision are getting takeout from somewhere.”
“See ya Steve.”
“Bye.”
Sam and Bucky watch as Steve heads for the metal doors, soon he’s gone and the two are the only Avengers left in the giant parking garage of sorts.
“She’s going to hate me for the rest of the day I know it.” Sadly mutters Bucky, already missing your beautiful face no matter what state your in.
“I wouldn’t say it’s hate.”
“She’s going to be very disappointed in me then.”
“Yeah probably.”
Bucky gives him an offended look, “You’re supposed to say something uplifting or positive.”
“Man don’t look at me for relationship advice. This is Y/N we’re talking about, just give her a couple hours she’ll simmer down.” Inquirers Sam with a friendly pat on the back before he starts walking away for the door, as casually and unbothered as ever.
Bucky keeps silent for a moment while his mind swims with what to do next, suddenly he looks up at his retreating friend, “Hey Sam!” Shouts Bucky just as Sam opens up the door, causing him to stop and give his friend a quizzical look.
“What?!”
“Fuck you!”
Sam immediately snorts, “You brought this upon yourself brother!” And with that he shuts the door leaving Bucky alone and full of regret for putting himself in danger today when you specifically told him you could handle yourself.
Why is caring for someone so hard, wonders Bucky.
——
After taking a greatly needed shower and putting on a fresh new pair of comfortable clothing for the evening, you slipped past your friends rooms and away from where Bucky may be hiding.
Until at last you made it to Natasha’s door without being caught by anyone in the hallway and stopped for a needless conversation. Soon enough you slip into Nat’s room and saunter around for a bit as you wait for her to end her shower.
“Oh shit!” Gasps Natasha as soon as she opens the door and notices you poking around her stuff, “Jesus Y/N how’d you get in here!?”
“I opened the door.”
“I thought I locked it?”
“You did.”
Natasha gives you a puzzled look as you wander over to her nightstand, nonchalantly minding your business while picking up her current novel as she watches you curiously, “So uh, how’s it going?” She asks cautiously, well aware of your irritation with Bucky earlier that day.
Flipping through the pages you answer her honestly, “I’m fine now.”
Natasha nods before turning around to search through her drawers for an outfit, “I figured that much, considering if you were still pissed you’d be throwing fireballs into the cement wall downstairs.” She quips with her usual smirk as you gently close the book and set it back in its rightful place.
“That is.....true.” You agree with a shrug, “I’m just sending a message at this point.”
“Oh really?” Laughs Natasha while slipping on a shirt, “Poor Bucky then.”
“Yeah well he was being an idiot tough guy so....it’s what I’m doing.” You add with a lopsided smug grin, “Serves him right for being reckless with no regard for his physical safety. I love him but at what cost?”
“Someone needs to tell Steve that.” Mutters Natasha as she pulls on some sweatpants.
You chuckle, “What? That someone needs to tell Steve they love him? Not a bad idea.”
“That too.” Points Natasha, “I seriously don’t know how he’s not dead yet.”
Your brows furrow in thought for a moment, “He’s built like a stone sentinel with a will greater then many, he fears nothing.” You deadpan, face stoic and serious.
“Just about.” Laughs Natasha as you begin to cackle right along with her, in the middle of your laughing fit does the door suddenly burst open to reveal...
“Hello ladies.” Chirps Tony with an award winning smile, usual old T-shirt on and hair a bit of a mess though somehow managing to keep his Stark charm.
“I really need to get an automatic lock on that thing.” Mutters Nat to no one in particular.
“What’s up Stark.” You add with an acknowledging tilt of your head, “You here to bother us or tell us something interesting?”
“Everything I say is interesting my dear sparky.” Quips Tony with a brow wiggle.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Right, anyways. Foods here.” Chides Tony as he sets a hand on his hip, “Unless you’re both too cool for movie night. More for us then, I’ll have Vision drop off our half eaten tacos.”
“We have tacos?” You ask with an intrigued raise of your brow, just wanting to confirm and make sure he’s not bluffing, you fucking love taco night.
“Yep.”
“How long have they been here?”
“Wanda and Vis just arrived so you’re the first two I found.” Oh, fuck yeah!
Turning your head to a smirking Natasha you smile back before bolting for the door, “Move Stark!” You snap before shoving him to the side and cackling as you and Natasha book it down the hall with Tony trying to keep up in the background. What can you say, Natasha always makes it a competition and its taco night. Sometimes you gotta play dirty.
Soon you and your assassin best friend who you tripped up before reaching the door finally skid into the Avengers giant lounging area. The room is relatively empty with the exception of Wanda and Vision who are seated at the large metal table near the kitchen where all the various paper bags of tacos are seated. And ripe for the taking.
Smelling absolutely delicious all tucked snug in their wrapping and filled with the most divine ingredients, you could just about die of happiness. With a beaming smile upon your face and the surprised expressions from your two friends you belt out loudly, “Tacos FUCK YEAH!” Before racing for the bags and getting tripped by Natasha.
Whipping your head up to watch her snatch a bag you growl half angrily, “You bitch.” While she happily smiles back down at you, taco in hand.
“What are you doing on the floor? Foods here.” She jokes as you quickly walk over to the counter with all the bags.
“Ha ha, you’re hilarious now give me that.”
After about ten minutes of eating and shooting the breeze with Natasha, Wanda, Vision, and Tony; you’re ears immediately catch the sounds of thundered running down the hallway and other muffled curses from two familiar individuals.
“Fun’s arrived.” Whispers Natasha with a friendly nudge to your arm as it lays on the flat surface of the table while you absentmindedly crumple up a wrapper.
Biting your lip you anticipate the impending commotion, “Fantastic.” And this whole evening could be more enjoyable if your hundred year old boyfriend would have used some common sense.
A second later the door swings open to reveal a panting Sam before Bucky slides in after him, equally as flustered, those two idiots. As they stand there collecting their breaths, Steve casually steps into the room, walking past them and over to the bags of tacos, “Aw sweet, taco night.” He confirms excitedly, hungrily eyeing up a particular bag.
Rolling your eyes, you slouch carelessly into your expensive swivel chair before turning to Wanda who’s seated across from you, “Hey, Red Riding Hood, you’re up.” She turns her attention away from Vision and nods before giving you a sly smirk and using her power to send a balled up piece of taco wrapping straight for your head.
In one calculably swift motion do you incinerate the paper material before its able to reach your face, “Y/N you’re going to set the fire detectors off.” Laughs Tony as he crumbles up a new ball.
“Eh, we could afford a renovation.”
Tony fake scoffs, “Rude.”
“Well Y/N, I thought you did great.” Applauds Wanda with a chuckle as the three other men walk around to the far end where no one is seated, “Alright Tony you next.”
You refrain from making any eye contact with Bucky who steals a few longing glances at your smiling face, instead he follows Sam and Steve to the opposite end and watches as you quickly turn another balled up paper to ash. The sounds of your laughter and the rest of the tables almost enough to drive him insane.
Yet he refrains, Bucky knows he’s essentially in time out, reason for almost getting himself killed today; and you’re not breaking anytime soon, or so he thinks.
Ignoring the three boys hungrily attacking their poor tacos away from the main groups theatrics, Vision suddenly gains your attention, “Well I suppose I should participate with this game or fear feeling left out....uh, what is the objective? Or perhaps the name?”
“They throw wrappers at me and I set them on fire before it hits myself or the ground.” You reply while crumbling up another piece, leaving Vision to process the possible deeper meaning to your brief explanation, though there really isn’t one. It’s just for fun.
“By the way I’ve been able to get her exactly once.” Brags Tony with a shit eating grin, causing you to scoff at that memory.
“Oh fuck all the way off you flicked water into my face and then threw the paper.”
“And it was very much worth it.” He confirms as you roll your eyes at his cheating from last taco night.
The rest of your friends fill the room with snickers and some louder laughter coming from Sam down at the far end, with a raised brow you snap your head in that direction and stand, “Something funny bird boy?” You quip in a half threatening manner.
Sam’s smirk immediately drops from his face as his expression appears nonchalant, “What nooo. That was Steve.” He mutters before taking another bite out of his taco.
“Y/N that was definitely not me.”
“Uh huh.”
“Maybe it was Bucky.” Jokes Sam as you shift your fiery attention over to a fearful Bucky who quickly shakes his head before smacking Sam on the arm.
“No.” You confirm with a knowing smirk, “He doesn’t have a death wish.”
“Well neither do I please have mercy.” Pleads Sam with hands raised in defeat, “I would like to finish my taco.”
You stare down at them for a brief tension filled moment before casually shrugging, “Yeah alright.” Before sitting back down again.
——
Opening up the trash can you quickly shove down three giant paper bags from dinner with a bit of effort considering how full it is. Natasha and Vision are cleaning up in various areas nearby while Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Steve, and Tony sit in the lounging area discussing if it was necessary that Dobby was killed off in the Deathly Hallows. You know, normal things you discuss with your superpowered friends.
Well Bucky is mostly just listening and stealing glances over to you every couple of minutes, really wishing you would just walk over to him and let him show you how sorry he was with the biggest hug he could possibly muster. Probably never letting you go again, though you wouldn’t mind.
Ignoring your own longing to be cuddled up next to Bucky, you instead fight with the damn trash can to fucking shut its dumb lid already. With one hand forcefully shoving down bags, paper plates, and banana peels you start to think if volunteering for clean up was even worth it.
A blue flame suddenly erupts from your palm and makes a big black hole through the paper bags and plates, your eyes go wide in surprise as you immediately retract your hand from the trash and shut the lid just as quickly.
Taking a single step back you let out a breath before turning your head to find Bucky watching your whole ordeal go down with a drink in hand, guess he must have gotten up to get some juice and stayed for your one on one brawl with the trash can. Rolling your eyes, you wave it off, “Completely under control.” You mutter as he slowly nods.
Well this is awkward.
Shifting your gaze from Bucky to your friends and back to Bucky again, he finally speaks, “Is that why the lid has smoke coming from under it?”
“What?” You wonder in puzzlement before looking back down at the trash can to find smoke indeed rising, “Oh fuck!” Ripping the lid off you’re kindly greeted with a burst of flame and smoke. Well, shit.
“Uh, Y/N?” Asks Bucky with an uncertain chuckle, “You’re positive everything is under control?” Quips your smartass boyfriend.
With more flames rising to an almost alarming level, though not quit yet, you glance at your oblivious friends before racing for the sink, “Yes! Everything is fucking fine!” Wanda skips to the side as you snatch a cup of something from the counter by the sink.
Running back you skid in your tracks and dump the clear liquid onto the flames which causes them to rise even higher and gain the attentions of everyone sitting down and relaxing, “Why is my trash can on fire?” Asks Tony as casually as ever.
“I don’t know maybe it looks better this way?!” You sass before giving the glass a double take, “The hell? What the fuck was in this!” You shout, holding up the glass while fire burns in the trash from behind you.
“Oh that had some Quinjet fuel in it, why do you ask?” Replies Tony, he’s gotta be fucking with you.
Squinting at him in bewilderment, you shake the empty glass in frustration, “Why the fuck would there be a random glass of fuel sitting in a clear unlabeled glass on the fucking sink of all places!”
“What did you think it was?”
“Oh I don’t know!? Water?!” You snap causing the fire to roar even higher at your outburst.
Looking almost like a demon princess standing there with flames rising from behind you, your fists ball up with blue flame, something that you don’t even realize is happening as you give Tony a (what the fuck are you actually stupid) face.
Sensing your obvious irritation and rising anger, Bucky comes to the rescue with a whole bowl full of actual water and promptly dumbs it onto the flames which causes the unless materials to sizzle and whine. Soon the oranges and reds are gone, leaving the contents turned to ash and nothing more then wet soot.
Distinguishing your own flames, you hang your head low, revealing a tired heavy sigh as you mumble, “Shit.” Suddenly you feel admittedly quit drained and annoyed from the events of the day, even if they weren’t all bad.
Your friends keep silent for a moment before Steve quickly stands, “Movie night anyone?” Gaining the attention of everyone in an instant; you bless the blonde for his intuitive ways of helping you out in the smallest of moments. He truly is a great friend.
“Yeah I could watch something.” Adds Sam with a shrug, “I’m thinking Deathly Hallows Part 2.”
“Yeah it’s pretty good I’ll join.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah I’m in.”
Everyone get up and begins walking for the door as you stay standing in your spot near the wet and ash covered metal trash can, everyone exiting for the home theater except for Bucky who’s back is to you while he tells Sam you’ll be there in a minute.
Folding your arms, you suddenly feel like it’s the first time you and Bucky have ever talked one on one with each other, you’re typically a pretty damn confident and fiery person to begin with, it’s just. Being mad at your favorite human in the whole entire world and then embarrassing yourself with accidentally setting the trash can on fire can take its toll.
Also not to mention the mission many hours ago was admittedly hectic and stress inducing and then, Bucky....perhaps a moment to calm down would have been smart if taken earlier. God your life moves to damn fast.
“You are so intense sometimes.”
Breaking out of your self reflective trance, your eyes quickly dart up to see Bucky who’s giving you a soft smile, “If you wanted my attention you could have just asked.”
“Very funny.” You scoff, “I was actually too busy being mad at you.”
“Ah, right.” Nods Bucky as he mirrors your defensive positioning, deciding to cross his arms and make a pouty face like yourself, “So I guess we’ll just stay here and brood then?”
“I’m trying to make a point.” You mutter, you’re not gonna crack, you’re not gonna do it.
“I’m trying to get my girlfriend to watch a movie with me.” Admits Bucky with an affectionate head tilt as you frown, “I know they’re not going to wait for us so....uh....okay let me start over.....I’m sorry for being reckless and almost dying. And I mean it too, with all of my heart. I love you Y/N.”
Although you’d like to throw his dumb reckless ass some sass and strut away leaving him guessing and begging for more, you just can’t find it in you at this point. He looks at you with those big beautiful blue eyes full of love and adoration for you and only you, how could you possibly resist them?
You know with every ounce of your soul that he means every single word, and you also know that he’s missed you since the second you yelled at him and slammed the facility door, leaving him alone and regretting his past decisions that could have potentially ended him then and there.
“Sometimes James, sometimes.” You mutter, shaking your head in disapproval before a small smirk pulls at your lips and in that moment he knows you’re his, “Come here.”
Heeding to your wonderful command that he’s been waiting to hear all day, he swiftly makes the short distance to gather your smaller body into a giant Bucky bear hug, his strong arms wrap protectively around your back as his head falls into the side of your neck as he quickly steals a small kiss.
You pull him in even tighter and fully enjoy the sensation of himself flush against you, metal arm squeezing your rip cage and long dark hair that falls into your eyes; god you love him so much.
Giving you one last little squeeze of affection, Bucky slowly pulls away and presses his head against yours, “I gotta be honest, I have no idea what this movie is about.” Reveals Bucky as he continues to holds you close.
Chuckling you press a kiss to his lips, “I’ll tell you what’s happening. Let’s go before we miss anything else.”
Nodding, he tilts your head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips one last time before letting you go, so that the two of you can begin walking for the door. Opening up the metal and glass door for you like the gentleman that he is, Bucky quickly jogs over to your side.
“So Sam told me these guys are wizards or something? Like they can teleport and fly I think?” States Bucky in question while walking in step with you.
Looking over at him you smile at how cute he’s being right now, giving him an agreeable nod, “Yeah they can do cool stuff like change form and set things on fire.”
Bucky suddenly starts laughing much to your confusion, “Y/N does that make you a wizard?”
Shoving him to the side you snort as he keeps laughing, “Shut up.” You mutter humorously as he stumbles from your friendly push.
Making quick steps to catch up with you, Bucky pulls you into his side, “Forgive me I didn’t mean it...” Snickers your adorable idiot, “I bet you’d be the best wizard, pointy hat and all.”
Shaking your head you can’t help the smirk that tugs against your better wishes, “I’m gonna set you on fire.” You jokingly threaten him with as he affectionately squeezes your side, causing you to be pressed even closer against him.
“Wizard.” Muses Bucky as he plants a kiss to your cheek as you try and push him away.
“Bucky, shut the fuck up.”
“But, I love you.”
#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier x y/n#marvel imagine#marvel x reader#marvel x you#fanfic
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Won’t You Get Me Bodied
Check, Please! and Yuri!!! on Ice crossover fic. 4.2 K, minor Jack/Bitty and Victor/Yuuri. I promise there’s YoI characters despite the opening scene being 100% Check Please. Read it on Ao3 here.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh, my god.”
Jack stopped in the doorway and went through his mental tally of Reasons Bittle Is Having A Minor Breakdown. Bitty was hunched over his laptop, staring at it with awed disbelief, but — as Jack checked every month — there were no upcoming concerts or awards shows of the kind that usually merited this sort of a response. Bitty used his phone for email, so he couldn’t have gotten an offer to collab with anyone, and nobody had molested any of his pies recently.
That left only one tactic: direct questioning. “Is something wrong, Bits?” Jack asked, fully aware that if something important was going on, he would trigger another meltdown like the fiasco back in 2013.
“Wrong? Are you crazy?” Bittle said, catapulting up from the bed and shoving his laptop in Jack’s face.
The laptop, as far as Jack could tell, was showing nothing more important than some bird-boned ice dancers. “Uh?” Jack managed.
“Jack, Four Continents is in Boston this year!” Bitty said, in the exact same tone that he used when Beyonce did… well, anything… and the Great Phelps-Bittle Jam Feud was settled in Suzanne’s favor. Jack might have no idea what Four Continents was, or why it was so important to Bittle, but by God, he was going to learn.
“Sounds like it’s pretty important to you,” Jack said. Active listening; Lardo would be proud.
“It is, yeah. Do you know anybody who could get us tickets? I don’t wanna ask for much, but it used to be my dream to compete there, and it’s so close…”
“Yeah, definitely,” Jack said. “One of Dad’s friends’ wives is pretty pally with the ISU, and she should be able to hook us up.”
“And this friend’s wife wouldn’t happen to be an international figure skating champ you’ve never told me you know, would she?”
“A figure skating champion who can get you the tickets you want, Bits,” Jack said. “Maybe even rinkside.”
@omgcheckplease
OH MY GOD
8:23 PM · Jan 14, 2016
@omgcheckplease
SWEET MOTHER MARY FOUR CONTINENTS IS RIGHT NEXT DOOR
8:24 PM · Jan 14, 2016
@omgcheckplease
AND GUESS WHOSE AMAZING BOYFRIEND HAS TIX
8:47 PM · Jan 14, 2016
@omgcheckplease
I know, I have a French exam that Monday but WHATEVER I can do my homework in the Uber
8:47 PM · Jan 14, 2016
@omgcheckplease
And congrats to @leodelhielo on making it in! Us Southern boys gotta stick together!
8:49 PM · Jan 14, 2016
Leo made a habit of keeping up with his old competitors. Some people just faded out of the sport and didn’t do anything of note, but others went to college or pursued interesting careers. He figured it was a good way to get a look at his options post-figure skating, and besides, some of those guys had been cool. It was nice to keep in touch, or at least stalk their social media. He hadn’t been expecting a nostalgia follow to @ him, though.
He remembered following this account. He’d been Googling a list of boys who’d made it to regionals, and found not only a college and major but a Twitter, attached to one Eric Bittle. Leo dimly remembered him: won Southern Junior Regionals 2010, peppy as anything. The guy had brought tiny pies to the party afterwards, pissed off at least three skaters’ nutritionists, and then vanished from the sport despite what every announcer had said was astounding potential. And had apparently ended up in Boston, attached to a hockey team.
It couldn’t hurt to acknowledge an old acquaintance, and Leo didn’t have anybody managing his social media anyway. He dashed off a quick tweet.
@leodelhielo
@omgcheckplease thanks! we should totally catch up sometime.
9:17 PM · Jan 14, 2016
@omgcheckplease
Sweet! @leodelhielo I was actually planning a party that weekend, so…
9:21 PM · Jan 14, 2016
Jack heard a piercing screech from the kitchen and ran in to check that Bitty hadn’t gotten hurt and another surprise album hadn’t dropped. “What’s going on, bud?”
“Leo de la Iglesia just @-ed me. Leo de la Iglesia is in my DMs. Leo de la Iglesia thinks it would be totally swawesome to come to the Haus after Four Continents and bring his skater friends.” Bitty looked up from his phone with reverence in his eyes. “Jack. He used the word ‘swawesome.’”
“Sounds cool,” Jack offered.
“It is so not cool, Mister Zimmermann. I have to make plans! I have to figure out who all is coming, email their nutritionists so I can set up an appropriate menu, do a deep-clean of the Haus — what if one of them gets a virus from the couch? — and let the boys know to give them their privacy. There’s so much work to do, oh my god.”
“And you’ll love every minute of it.”
Agreeing to bring Leo’s friends to a college town forty minutes from the rink right after Four Continents was far more difficult than firing off a promise to do so. Seung-Gil hated loud noises, alcohol, and fun, so he was right out. Guang-hong might be down, but would be just about impossible to sneak into a frat party when he looked twelve on a good day. Otabek… was Otabek. Leo was planning on asking JJ, because Leo was a nice person, dammit, but that invite might make the night sound more boring than JJ would ever stand for. Phichit would be much easier to lure in with the promise of a genuine American frat party. And if Leo played his cards right, and was very, very lucky, through persuading Phichit he might get to Yuuri.
Leo had seen rather too much of Yuuri with drunks, but he’d never actually seen Yuuri get hammered, and there were all kinds of rumors. Yuuri had reportedly barely touched the champagne at the GPF banquet this year, claiming he wanted to actually remember this night, thanks, which as far as Leo was concerned might as well be an invitation to get him blackout drunk. All he had to do was handle the situation with care.
Me
hey, you doing anything after Four Continents?
Phichit
not yet
you got any ideas?
Me
yeah, this guy I know from juniors lives in a frat house and makes amazing pie
he invited us all to dinner and a frat party
You in?
Phichit
you bet ur ass I am
Me
sweet, can you bring yuuri with you?
Phichit
uhhhhh
maybe
Me
think about it
this is a chance to get him totally wasted
see if the rumors are true
*and* get photographic evidence
all for the cost of an Uber to Samwell
Phichit
well when you put it like that
I’ll see what I can do
Yuuri had no idea why he was here. Getting his first real gold of the year had felt pretty nice, but after the win all he’d wanted to do was cuddle with his fiancé. Instead, Hurricane Phichit had burst into his room, said only, “Yuuri! We’re headed out in ten minutes! Grab your best party outfit!” and dragged him into an Uber while Victor was distracted by a crowd of fans. Apparently there was some kind of party, somewhere, and Phichit’s radar for a good, Yuuri-embarrassing time was just as strong as it had been in Detroit.
“Don’t you have a leg injury?” Yuuri asked.
“A of all, this sprain has been healing for a week; second of B, I just won bronze with it; and thirdly, you don’t need your legs when you’re doing a kegstand,” Phichit grinned.
Yuuri was doomed.
The house was… well. Yuuri would have liked to say it was nice enough, but that would have been a lie against God and architecture. It looked, frankly, like a crack den. With very spiffy curtains. “You’re sure this is the place?”
“Yeah, number 151.” Phichit carefully did not hobble up to the door.
A tall guy with a bemused look on his face was sitting on a chair on the roof above the porch. “Bitty!” he yelled into the house. “There’s more short guys showing up! Did you invite a gymnastics team over?”
A blond a little taller than Phichit opened the door in oven mitts. “Hi there,” he said, “ignore Tango, he’s, uh, special. Everyone else is ready to eat, unless JJ shows up out of the blue, and I’ve been instructed not to tweet about this party until Uber rush pricing starts, so that’s not very likely.”
“Uh, thanks?” Yuuri said.
“No problem! We’ve had some problems in the past with big personalities ruining the ambience, and I wouldn’t want that to happen tonight. Now, I’ve stuck to healthier food than I normally would, so you don’t have to worry too much about portion control. After dinner, we’re going to be pre-gaming and setting up for about an hour, and then the full-on kegster starts. No judgement if either of you want to leave before then. Any questions?”
“You’re Eric, right?” Phichit asked. “The guy Leo knew from Juniors?”
“Oh, where are my manners?” said Eric. “Yeah, that’s my name, but you can call me Bitty; everyone does around here. Pleased to meet you two!”
Bitty led them inside to a veritable buffet line and half of the men’s singles competitors, along with a decent number of jocks and, inexplicably, a tiny Southeast Asian girl. He introduced Phichit and Yuuri to his teammates, but the names were indistinguishable: everyone was called something random like Birker or Dexy.
“I know,” said a tall Black guy with killer cheekbones, “we’ve all got weird nicknames. It’s all a long and storied hockey tradition, like weird pre-game superstitions or everyone hating the Flyers.” And then he and a loud, blond, giant white guy launched a full-on Powerpoint presentation about the history of hockey names and how to make your own.
“So my hockey name would be what, Chiter?” Phichit asked, when he thought he had the hang of it.
Some dude with a mustache stared into his soul for a second and said,“Bruh, no. Cheetah.”
“Yeah, figure skaters are speedy little fuckers, right?” Loud Guy said around a mouthful of chicken breast. “Bitty beats everyone in suicides. Now, the rest of you guys gotta make your own nicknames, Shitty’s genius won’t stick around. Do your names sound like anything cool in your own language? Animals or weapons or something?”
“Oh my god,” Phichit said. “Yuuri. Katsudon. Plisetsky was right about you all along!” Yuuri was flailing and making the usual panicky noises that indicated Phichit was onto something.
“That’s not really—” Yuuri started to say, but Phichit interrupted him.
“Katsudon and Cheetah,” he mused. “Cheetah and Katsudon.” It was only natural at that point to force Yuuri into a selfie, captioned, “Me and katsukiyuuri at an #Epikegster pregame! #cheetah #katsudon #nameamoreepicduo #illwait #hockeynicknames #makeyourown!”
After the last bite of souffle had been eaten — “don’t worry,” Eric had said, “they’re actually pretty low in sugar and you get a ton of protein!” ― and the dishes had been heaped in the sink to ignore, the older jocks and the tiny girl went out to grab beer and… well, nobody was sure what Tiny Girl was up to, but it had something to do with pregaming.
“Okay,” Loud Guy said, after Tiny Girl returned with a projector from somewhere and the skaters had been assembled on a revoltingly filthy green couch. “In honor of Cheetah, here, who says he’s seen every figure skating movie ever made but never fucking got to Blades of Glory—”
“Like you’ve ever seen Shall We Skate?” Phichit fired back.
“Dude,” said Cheekbones, “that movie’s in Thai and Holtzy can barely manage English.”
“What, and subtitles aren’t a thing in America?”
“We are doing a very special pregame today,” Mustache said, barrelling over the incipient movie argument. “The Blades of Glory drinking game: drink every time Chazz and Jimmy get in a fight, every time Chazz mentions his sex addiction, and every time figure skating just doesn’t work like that. Two drinks for every outdated cringey gay joke, and finish your drink every time the parents’ death gets mentioned. If we notice any slow-sipping, you’ll have to finish your drink on the spot. Ready?”
“How many lines am I gonna be able to quote out of context and embarrass Yuuri?” Phichit asked.
“He’s skating with another dude in exhibitions, right? Started in Detroit?” Loud Guy said.
“Yup.”
“Oh, around half the movie.”
And Loud Guy was right. Phichit ended up elbowing Yuuri when the announcers talked about Chazz’ upbringing in Detroit’s sewer skating scene, groaning at the hideous excuses for choreography, and whispering, “Look, it’s you and Yurio! He’s even got the haircut!” every time Jimmy and Chazz laid into each other. By the time the Iron Lotus subplot came up, he was buzzed enough to genuinely consider the physics of a bullshit movie-magic pairs skating move.
“I don’t think they would actually have been able to cut her head off,” Phichit said to nobody in particular. “Cut her throat, yeah, but there’s not enough momentum to cut through the spine. What do you think, Yuuri?” he asked, and turned to his friend, who was looking a little green.
“I think I’m gonna help the jocks set up,” Yuuri said, and fled the room.
Different strokes for different folks, Phichit figured, and took another drink— Chazz and Jimmy were fighting again.
It didn’t take long after that for the kegster to start in earnest. Students filed into the house, Loud Guy and Cheekbones brought in a keg, and before Phichit knew it, D.R.A.M. was blaring at full volume. But as Phichit got his ass kicked at flip cup, he couldn’t help but wonder where Yuuri had gone off to.
It wasn’t that Yuuri was having a bad night. Everyone was incredibly friendly and it barely mattered that he couldn’t socialize when the entire point of the night was getting hammered in creative ways. He didn’t so much greet people as slide between different drinking games. But an hour or so later and five drinks in, he was beginning to question the contents of whatever “tub juice” was.
He shambled towards the kitchen — which was blocked off with CAUTION tape and a sign reading “absolutely NO puking on appliances- ERB” — and found that somebody else had had the same idea. Somebody else looked a little like a much taller and ripped JJ, and was sitting at the table contemplating a can of root beer. Yuuri took a sip of the tub juice and tried to look as if he were neither drunk off his ass nor interested in conversation.
A few moments passed in mutually-appreciated silence.
“It’s a lot sometimes, isn’t it?” Root Beer Guy said, finally. “All the people and the socializing, and the compulsory drinking.”
“It’s not like I mind all that much,” Yuuri said. “The drinking helps with the people.”
“You’re one of the figure skaters Bittle invited, right? Katsuki?”
“The captains told me I’m supposed to call myself Katsudon now, but yeah.”
“They would. Well, I heard from Bittle that one of the reasons your friends wanted you to come tonight is to get you black-out wasted. Apparently they want to take pictures, maybe put a video on Youtube. You weren’t in on this, I’m guessing?”
“Oh God no.”
Root Beer Guy sighed. “That’s what I thought. Well, Shits is always going on about how the Haus is supposed to be a safer space, and we have to be part of consent culture and everything. I guess part of that is not forcing booze down people’s throats. Anyone tries to get you to drink when you aren’t feeling it, I’ll be here with my root beer.”
“Thanks, I guess? But I’m pretty awful at interacting without getting drunk.”
“Fair. One thing, though. You might wanna lay off the tub juice, that stuff’s basically Hi-C and Everclear.”
Yuuri squinted at his cup’s contents. “Really? I’m on my third cup and it doesn’t seem like it’s doing anything.”
“If tub juice doesn’t get you drunk, nothing will,” said Root Beer Guy. “Just keep it in mind, eh? I’d be a shitty ex-captain if I let guests get forced into situations they weren’t comfortable with.”
“I guess I will,” Yuuri said, and made his way out of the room. If tub juice wasn’t working for him, maybe beer would.
Phichit was having the time of his life. The music was pounding, his friends were dancing, and two gorgeous hockey players were helping him out of a kegstand. “Alright,” said Cheekbones, “pong table’s open! You got a partner?”
“Sure,” Phichit said. “Anybody know where Yuuri is?”
“Cute Japanese kid? Just came out of the kitchen with Jack,” Tiny Girl said from the table. “You sure you want to go with him? He looks pretty sloshed.”
“Dude, Yuuri is the best pong partner. He’s, like, a Hoover for booze and he never loses his coordination. He’s a freak of nature or something.”
“Your funeral,” said Tiny Girl. “Now, Haus rules are as follows. No smacking the ball away if it bounces, blowing and fingering are forbidden, and shots before the last cup are mandatory. Got it?”
“Yeah, but are we playing singles or doubles?” Phichit asked.
“Two of you, one of me,” Tiny Girl grinned. “If I can handle Kent Parson and half the Falconers, I can take a couple figure skaters.”
Yuuri wandered over, finished his cup of tub juice, and the game began. In short order, Tiny Girl had changed her tune.
“Aight, that’s a bounce off the ceiling, you drink four cups,” she said, and then, “The fuck, Katsuki? You’re allowed to alternate those, you’ve already been drinking half of Cheetah’s.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Yuuri said, and chugged all of them. “Phichit’s got the alcohol tolerance of one of his hamsters, we’ve been playing pong like this for years. We end up equally wasted, so it’s not like I’m cheating.”
The game went on like that for a while, Yuuri and Tiny Girl landing all their shots, to the point where Phichit ducked out in favor of filming the legend unfolding in front of him. Finally, Tiny Girl and Yuuri had one cup left each. It was Yuuri’s turn. Somehow he managed to down the shot and bounce the ball into Tiny Girl's cup at the very edge of the table, and the room exploded.
“Holy shit!” Loud Guy said, “somebody just fucking beat Lardo at pong.”
“Barely,” Yuuri said, somehow managing to be self-defeating and plastered at the same time.
"Are you kidding me?" Mustache chipped in. "I never thought I'd see the goddamn day."
“His aim gets better when he gets drunker,” Phichit said. “I tried to warn you.”
“I’m still the undisputed Haus flip-cup champ,” said Tiny Girl.
“Really? Let’s see about that,” Yuuri said. Drunk Yuuri was finally coming out of his modest megane shell, and Phichit was going to be around to film every second.
“Hey,” Guang-hong asked Phichit around 1 AM, “has anybody seen Leo around?”
“I lost track of him after they started playing “Vivir Mi Vida” and he freaked out,” Phichit said. “How come?”
“Eric’s totally wasted and we need a translator.”
Phichit thought for a second. “From English? We’re using English right now.”
“No,” Guang-hong said, “from Southerner. He’s slurring all his words and allergic to consonants and the last phrase I heard from him was ‘Y’all boutta git sum.’ Leo’s from Houston, he knows that accent.”
“She like music, she from Houuu-ston, like Auntie Yonce,” a familiar voice warbled from Phichit’s seven. He reached out and grabbed Leo from the mass of partiers around them.
“Leo,” Guang-hong said with a valiant attempt at sobriety, “we need you to translate what Bitty’s saying. He’s getting up in Yuuri’s face and I just heard him saying everyone was gonna get something.”
“We don’t need to worry about a fight, Yuuri’s not a fighty drunk,” Phichit added, “but he might cry all over the host and that would just be embarrassing for everyone.”
Leo squinted at Phichit as if his eyes weren’t quite focusing right. “Wouldn’t you want that?” he asked. “You could film it and add it to your Yuuri Blackmail Stash.”
“It’s not a blackmail stash, it’s just a thing friends— look, we don’t have time for this!”
“Aight,” Leo said, “lemme at ‘im and I’ll do my best.”
They elbowed their way over to the circle of onlookers surrounding a slurring Bittle and confused Yuuri, both drunk off their asses. “Aintcha never done no dance-offs b’fore?” Eric said.
“Have you ever been in a dance-off?” Leo translated, enunciating carefully and swaying slightly.
“‘S rumors. Like, tons of ‘em, ‘n’ all of ‘em gotcha winnin’ ‘gainst some miiiiiiighty tough competition,” Eric continued.
“Many rumors claim that you’ve won previous dance-offs against very tough opponents,” said Leo, deadpan.
“An’ I’m thinkin’, how ‘bout it, huh? You an’ me, here ‘n’ now, mano a mano,” Eric concluded.
“And I think we should have a dance-off here and now,” Leo said.
Yuuri blinked. “Thass wha’ he’s sayin’?” he asked. Drunk Yuuri was its own dialect, heavy with slurs and sobbing and the Saga-Ben he never quite scrubbed from his accent. Luckily, Phichit was fluent.
“Yep,” he confirmed. “You down?”
It was a foregone conclusion; between the tub juice and the pong and the kegstands, Yuuri was a good eight drinks in, and eight-drinks Yuuri was a walking bad decision. “Am I down?” Yuuri said, looking like he was about to laugh, or maybe fall over. “Phichit, ‘m a gold medalist, gonna kick ass at Worlds. I think I can take an American who doesn’ even know how t’ breakdance.”
“Famous last words, buddy,” Phichit said, but he stepped back. If this disaster happened, somebody had better preserve it for posterity, and that somebody was going to be him.
“Hey, Cheetah!” Eric hollered, and hurled his phone at Phichit. “Use my phone, I gotta Youtube channel that’s gonna wanna see this.”
The phone was already set to record, so Phichit had nothing to do but stand in a clear spot, press a button, and hold on for the ride.
“Get Me Bodied” blasted through the speakers and Phichit had no adequate words to describe what came next. There was quite a bit of breakdancing on Yuuri’s part— Phichit thought he could recognize that K-kick from the banquet photos— and Eric was shaking his ass like the world was ending and twirling around like a bizarre headbanging ballerina. Between the two of them, Phichit thought they’d used a bit of every kind of dance Phichit knew, and a few he didn’t. As the music ended, Eric came out of a giant spin and… fell? On purpose? He didn’t look hurt, and it had been timed to the music, so probably it was deliberate.
“That’s a death drop, what Bittle ended with. Although I don’t know what you call the spin he did going into it,” said Otabek from behind Phichit’s shoulder, and since when had Otabek even been at this party?
“I’ve been here all night, you just haven’t noticed because I’m not a rowdy drunk like some people,” Otabek said. “I DJ on the side, and there’s always somebody asking for the latest American hits. I figured it would be field research.”
“Okay,” said Yuuri from where he was draped against the banister, “so who won?”
Phichit pressed STOP and the recording cut out. “Everybody who just witnessed that. Maaaybe Eric, by a tiny margin? But most of all, Eric’s twitter followers,” he said, and uploaded the video.
“I’m so gonna regret that tomorrow,” Eric said, accepting a bottle of water from his boyfriend.
“I’m regretting it already,” Yuuri said. As Yuuri was tragically boyfriend-less until Victor tracked them down, Phichit grabbed some water for him.
“But oh my god, Eric, that move you did at the end? You have to teach us!” Guang-hong piped up.
“Yeah,” Phichit chirped, “Yuuri can fall on purpose for once.”
“I really hate you sometimes, Phichit, “ said Yuuri.
“Hate me later, it’s time for a podium selfie!” Phichit said, throwing Eric’s phone back to him.
Eric carefully took a photo with Yuuri, and Phichit wrote the caption for him: “4CC gold medalist katsukiyuuri and the reigning Haus Dance-Off Champion! #Epikegster #danceoffroyalty #yourfavescouldnever” The party wound down after that, and around 2 AM everybody headed back to their hotels after extracting a deal: Eric would teach them how to do a death drop someday if Yuuri helped him land a quad loop.
Bitty woke up in the middle of the night with an enormous headache, aching joints, and several thousand new followers. His phone had apparently alerted him to all of them at once, and didn’t stop buzzing for the five minutes it took Bitty to scroll to the source of the problem. Sure, the dance-off video accounted for his new Twitter followers, but why on earth was his Instagram blowing up?
And then he saw the selfie, and more importantly, the top comment.
“Jack. Jack, if you love me at all, you have to see this.”
“Bits, it’s four in the morning.”
“Look at this. Look at it. Viktor. Nikiforov. Just. Liked. My. Photo. He complimented my selfie prowess, Jack!”
“...Who?”
“I’m divorcing you.”
“We’re not even engaged!”
#omgcheckplease#yuri on ice#eric bittle#phichit chulanot#katsuki yuuri#seriously how do you tag all these characters#I won't even fucking bother#look if you're here for the Yuri On Ice I swear it gets there eventually#Four Continents would never be in Boston but wutever I do what I want
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