Chapter Text
“Phichit, please put your phone away and practice.” Celestino pleaded Phichit as he refreshed the polls once more. “It’s the free skate Phichit, just put your phone away.”
“But it’s the last prank, Ciao-Ciao.” Phichit whined.
“Phichit, for the love of God-”
“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” came a shout, echoing throughout the rink.
A still, deafening silence filled the arena, the clatter of a bottle dropping onto the ice as JJ sank to his knees, sobbing.
Christophe’s face softened in sympathy, but he still glided to the centre of the rink and threw himself into a spin.
Yuri rolled his eyes and continued his stretches.
Otabek looked conflicted, brows furrowed as if he was struggling to decide something.
“I haven’t seen him like this since he was Plisetsky’s age. Younger, even.” Celestino mused behind Phichit. “His confidence has always been a type of barrier for him, a defence mechanism. Now that he’s lost it, he’s exposed. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.”
Phichit cast his gaze over the rink, noticing Yuuri tracing lazy figures over the ice, a solemn expression on his face.
Viktor had been unusually solemn as well, leant against the barrier with a far off, sad look in his eyes as he watched his fiancée glide over the ice.
The two had been uncharacteristically cold that morning, and judging by the muffled shouting Phichit had heard coming from the room next to him the night before, this morning wasn’t exactly a great start to the free skate.
The warm, hopeful and friendly atmosphere from the morning before was gone, replaced with a chilly, hostile tension. The rink was silent, save for the clean snick of blades against the ice. Phichit surveyed the rink and the skaters in it, a crack sounding as Otabek landed a jump cleanly, another crack in quick succession. Yuri threw himself into a layback spin, Christophe marking and retracing parts of his choreography as Yuuri warmed up near the barrier, JJ tracing the ice in solitary figures, staring down at the polished black leather of his skates.
“I know this is an ice rink, but the atmosphere is so cold…” Phichit murmured, sipping from his water bottle, setting it aside on the boards.
“You think this is cold? You weren’t in Lillehammer ’94 after the whole Kerrigan-Harding mess started. That was tense.” Celestino sighed, gaze drifting over to Yuuri. “But something does seem off about him today… try not to worry about it, okay? But if it really worries you, then by all means talk to him. I’ve never been able to stop you before.”
Phichit bit his lip, skating over to Yuuri. The Japanese skater was stood solemnly at the other end of the rink, slowly gliding into compulsory figures, Viktor watching him forlornly from the opposing end, keeping his distance.
“Morning, Yuuri!” Phichit greeted happily, causing Yuuri to trip over his skates mid-turn, stumbling onto the ice.
Viktor sprinted from the other end of the rink to where Phichit was standing.
“Yuuri! Are you okay-”
“I’m fine.” Yuuri said curtly, cutting off Viktor as he stood up and brushed himself off, looking away from him pointedly. “Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”
Viktor frowned, visibly shrinking.
“Well forgive a coach for showing concern over a student, and a man showing concern over his lover.” Viktor murmured bitterly, causing Yuuri to scrunch his face and pick up speed, gliding further away and moving into a basic twizzle.
“Hey,” Phichit said, skating towards Viktor. “Is everything okay between the two of you?”
“No.” Viktor sighed, hugging his arms.
“Can I ask what happened?” Phichit asked, leaning against the barrier.
“He wants to break up with me… I think he has actually… that and he wants to retire.” Viktor sighed sadly, holding out his hand and gazing at his ring. “I don’t get it… everything was going so well… does the ring not mean anything?”
“… Did he tell you why he wanted to end it?” Phichit asked carefully, sculpted dark brow quirking at the question.
Viktor sighed, relaxing against the boards as he watched Yuuri throw himself into a triple flip.
“He thinks he’s holding me back, keeping me from the ice because I apparently want to compete more than be with him.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“I… I told him he was being selfish, and that it wasn’t true.” Viktor admitted.
“Well no fucking wonder why he’s pissed with you.” Phichit sighed.
“Excuse me?” Viktor asked, affronted, causing Phichit to turn around to take Viktor’s wrists.
“Viktor.” Phichit exhaled. “Poor, sweet, naïve Viktor.”
“Yes?”
“One of the things you need to understand about Yuuri is that he does things like this because his mind works in a way that makes him believe people would be better off without him, and he misjudges what people really want. But you can’t get angry with him for it. You have to be patient with him, understand?” Phichit explained calmly. “If you get angry with him it will reinforce the voices in the back of his head that give him these ideas. You need to be patient with him and help him. If he starts to freak out then give him time.”
“But-”
“You must be patient and support him. Never let him doubt that you love him, but if he does, talk him through it. Sometimes he won’t want to talk, sometimes he will shut himself in the bathroom. Be patient, be understanding, make sure he eats, take care of him. Because if you hurt him, all of your darkest secrets will be leaked online within the next hour.”
“Um.” Viktor mumbled, eyes wide. “That’s a joke, right?”
“Maybe.” Phichit smirked darkly before schooling his expression. “But listen to me, and listen to me well. Take care of Yuuri. Be there for him when times get tough, help him, tend to him, be patient and understanding. Is that clear?”
“A-as clear as day.” Viktor stammered. “What should I do now?”
“Subtle support, but give him space until he’s more comfortable.” Phichit advised, watching Viktor’s expression carefully. “Being at the rink is both the best and the worst thing for Yuuri right now. The upside is that he can skate out his feelings; the downside is that he’s surrounded by people and cameras, and if he messes up, he may feel worse. I know how royally you fucked up in China, I could hear him crying in the parking lot. Please tell me you actually know how to deal with feelings now?”
Viktor nodded, pursing his lips and looking ashamed.
“What if he doesn’t want me after this?” Viktor asked quietly.
“This is Yuuri we’re talking about, Viktor. He’s been in love with you since he could understand the feeling, he has 46 posters of you, 16 of them are limited edition and he named his poodle after you. You’d have to do something really insensitive and unforgivable for Yuuri to not want you anymore.” Phichit replied. “He may say it but remember that it may be in his mind and that you should talk to him. Communication is key.”
“Th-thank you, Phichit.”
“Any time.”
“ALL SKATERS, PLEASE CLEAR THE ICE,” The announcer blared. “THE SENIOR DIVISION MEN’S FREE SKATE IS ABOUT TO BEGIN.”
“Well, look at the time.” Phichit said brightly. “I should get going. And remember, communication is key.”
“Holy shit.” Phichit breathed, fingers against his glossed lips, eyes widened at the score on the jumbotron. “He actually fucking did it.”
“The score for skater Yuuri Katsuki, representing Japan is 221.58, a personal best and the new world record for the highest free skate score in men’s figure skating.”
On the glaring screen of the jumbotron, Phichit saw Yuuri’s eyes widen in disbelief, mouth agape as he stared into the cameras.
Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri, pulling him close and visibly shaking, Yuuri squeezing him back, face buried in the beige fabric of Viktor’s trench coat.
Phichit smiled, wiping away a stray tear from his eyes.
“He’s not my student anymore,” Celestino sobbed. “Why am I so proud? Why am I crying?”
Phichit grinned, rolling his eyes and patting Celestino’s back, drawing his hand away once his phone buzzed.
The polls had ended.
He pulled his phone out, unlocking it and opening up the browser, checking the results.
Pranker(s): Christophe Giacometti
Prankee(s): Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov
Prank: BFF bullshittery
Phichit’s gaze lifted, scanning the arena for the familiar crop of peroxide bleached blond, spotting the tall Swiss man at the rink-side, ready to take the ice.
Phichit would just have to get to Christophe after the medal ceremony.
Phichit sighed, knocking on the door again.
After coming 5th, Christophe had shut himself in his hotel room. Phichit hadn’t seen him since the medal ceremony and press conference had ended.
The door opened to reveal Christophe’s partner, Marc, the older Swiss man looking tired as he towered over Phichit.
“Can I help you?” He asked quietly, blue eyes staring down at Phichit.
“Um, yeah, I was doing this prank cam thing and Chris got voted to be my partner in crime for the finale and I was wondering-”
“Chris isn’t… he’s not in the mood for people right now.” Marc said plainly, cutting Phichit off. “Particularly competitors.”
“Are you sure I can’t talk to him-”
“Phichit, right? I hope I’m pronouncing that correctly.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Look.” Marc sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “This comes from experience, when Chris is upset you need to give him space. He’s very tired physically and emotionally, so maybe you should come back later.”
“I-”
“Non, Chérie, he can come in.” Christophe murmured quietly, wrapping his arms around Marc’s midsection.
Marc turned his head to look at Christophe tenderly, taking his hand and squeezing it gently.
“You sure?” Marc asked tenderly, kissing Christophe’s temple as Christophe rested his chin upon Marc’s shoulder. “You’re exhausted.”
“Oh hush, I’m awake enough to hear whatever schemes Phichit can cook up. Come on in, petit.” Christophe replied, pulling away from Marc.
Marc nodded, opening the door wider to allow Phichit in as Christophe sat back down on the bed. Phichit crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him and entering the room.
“You can sit down, Phichit.” Christophe hummed, patting the spot next to him. “I promise these sheets are the clean ones.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Chris.” Phichit laughed, sitting down next to him.
“I promise! They are!” Christophe protested with a chuckle.
“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Phichit grinned, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “But if I’m sitting in cum I will kick your ass.”
“I have six inches over you- height wise, lord knows what you have going on down there- You can’t take me.” Christophe smirked.
“I have a black belt in muay thai and my mom is a 7th generation master. I dare you to fuck with me.” Phichit deadpanned, unlocking his phone.
“Um.” Marc cut in, clearing his throat. “I’m going to shower now, so if you need the bathroom you should probably use it now.”
“I’m good, but thanks.” Phichit grinned as he opened up the polls. “Chris?”
“I’ll join you later if I can, Chérie.” Christophe hummed, blowing a kiss to Marc.
Marc nodded, pulling up his white shirt and tugging it over his head as he walked to the bathroom, Phichit’s eyes following the curve and defined edges of the muscles in his back, noticing the dark hickies and red scratches around the neck and shoulders with a hum. Christophe smacked his thigh gently, causing him to tear his gaze from Marc’s retreating figure.
“Hey. Eyes off my man.” Christophe scolded with a frown.
“Sorry… He’s not really my type, good ass and back, but not really my type.” Phichit assured Christophe.
“Good. Because he’s mine and if you try anything you’ll wind up like the last one.”
“The what?” Phichit asked, eyes widening.
“How about that prank I’ve been assigned to? Let’s get on that, hm?”
“Okay, but this whole last one thing is freaking me out.”
“Christophe, if you’re using Manon to scare Phichit, it’s not going to work.” Marc called from the bathroom. “She was my ex and my ice dancing partner. She’s married with a baby now, you have nothing to fear.”
“Marc, you’re no fun.”
“I can be plenty of fun and you know it.”
“So!” Phichit grinned awkwardly, clapping his hands. “The prank.”
“Yes, the prank.” Christophe smiled warmly. “What schemes have you cooked up in that pretty little head of yours.”
“Well…” Phichit paused, looking at his phone. “The prompt is BFF bullshittery.”
“Have you planned anything for us?”
Phichit shook his head. With all the stress and tension of the free skate, Phichit hadn’t had time to think on what kind of prank to pull on Viktor and Yuuri, he was too worried about the two even remaining together to think about pranking them.
“Considering how they were before, that’s understandable.” Christophe shrugged, standing up the rifle through his closet, pulling out a large black case and setting it on the bed next to Phichit, unclipping the latches on the case.
The case opened with a click, revealing a dark red velvet interior surrounding a brass saxophone. Christophe pulled the instrument from the case, plucking various parts Phichit couldn’t name and affixing them to the glimmering instrument.
“I’m not even going to ask.” Marc sighed, taking a bundle of clothes from the neatly folded stack on the bed.
“And you said I wouldn’t have a use for Gerard.” Christophe smirked smugly, earning a huff from Marc.
“Um. Gerard? Who’s Gerard?” Phichit asked, confused.
“His stupid saxophone.” Marc grumbled, walking back into the bathroom.
“Gerard isn’t stupid, Marc, he’s my weapon of mass destruction.” Christophe said pointedly.
Phichit furrowed his brows. Clearly, he wasn’t prepared for the full extent of Christophe Giacometti’s madness. But then again, he did live with Yuuri in Detroit for five great, hectic years, so he assumed he could manage to a degree.
“Okay!” Phichit said brightly, clapping his hands. “So, how is Gerard supposed to aid us in our prank?”
“Well, the prank is BFF Bullshittery, non?” Christophe asked.
“Yes?”
“Have you heard of the song Careless Whisper by George Michael?”
“I think so… I’m not sure.” Phichit frowned, shrugging. “He wasn’t that big in Thailand.”
“15 years in international competition and I’m still not used to the cultural gaps.” Christophe sighed. “It has a very famous saxophone riff which becomes kind of annoying when played on a loop, which is mainly why I learned it. And while Viktor loves Careless Whisper, the sax riff pisses him off and it’s all my gracious doing.”
“So, what do you propose we do with this irritating instrument of torture?” Phichit asked, sitting back.
“First; don’t call Gerard an irritating instrument of torture, he is my baby, second; I was getting to that. What I propose we do is that we hide in their closet, in their room, until they arrive, then we burst out and ruin whatever moment they’re having with Careless Whisper.”
“Oh!” Phichit said excitedly. “Like that Jon Hamm skit on SNL!”
“Which one?” Christophe asked, brow scrunching in confusion.
“The sax guy one? The one where Andy Samberg breaks a talisman and he’s cursed to have a sexy sax guy called Sergio ruin his life?”
“Yes!” Christophe said, snapping his fingers. “That’s perfect!”
“Christophe Giacometti, you’re a fucking genius.”
By some miracle, during the banquet Christophe had happened to swipe Viktor’s hotel card from his pocket without Yuuri ripping off his hand, peridot coloured eyes glinting in a similar fashion to a cat’s in the dim hallway lighting as Christophe unlocked the plain door. As he pushed the door open, Phichit had noticed a wide, almost manic Cheshire-like grin on the older Swiss man’s features, following him into the darkness of the room.
Christophe quickly flicked the lights on, setting the case of his saxophone on the bed and cracking it open excitedly, pulling the glimmering instrument from the case.
Phichit kicked the door closed, pulling his phone out of his blazer pocket and opening up Instagram.
“Should I start the stream now?” Phichit asked.
“Probably.” Christophe shrugged, quickly placing the case in the closet. “We have no idea whether they’re going to be three hours or three minutes.”
“Judging by how handsy they were getting, I’d say it’s not long.” Phichit murmured.
“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Christophe murmured, tugging the sheets to remove any crinkles or crease. “Considering Yuuri was practically dry humping him in public last year, we have no idea.”
“Ah, but that may be where you’re wrong, my dear Christophe. That was drunk off his ass Yuuri. The Yuuri now is sober Yuuri, and he’s been refusing drinks all night, so we don’t really have a gauge of how long they’re gonna be, but knowing Yuuri my bet is around two minutes.”
“I’m going to hold you to that…” Christophe replied. “Start the stream?”
Phichit nodded, activating the livestream function on Instagram, watching the count of viewers climb steadily.
“What’s up everybody!” Phichit greeted happily, smiling at the camera. “Tonight, I am here in Viktor and Yuuri’s room with Christophe Giacometti for our finale of the prank cam! Say hi, Chris!”
“Hi.” Christophe waved. “Phichit, dear, are you going to introduce our prank?”
“Right. So, Chris here has a saxophone, and if you lovelies are familiar with the sax riff from the beginning of Careless Whisper, we’re basically gonna surprise out loving couple with this while hiding in their closet.”
RippMyAss: ngl kinda seems dull for a finale tbh
AshyAsh: ye but vik hates that sax riff
KareBare: Please no nsfw there are kids watching
“I can’t promise how, um, family friendly this is going to be, but we can hope?” Phichit shrugged, pausing when he heard footsteps approaching the door.
“Phichit.” Christophe hissed. “In the closet, now!”
“But I’ve been out for 5 years, you can’t silence me!”
“Now is not the time for closet humour.” Christophe sighed. “Get in.”
Phichit nodded, stepping into the closet, switching his camera from the front to the back as he closed the doors.
In a tangle of limbs and designer clothing, Phichit watched through the thin gap in the doors as Viktor and Yuuri stumbled into the room, a mess of laughter and passionate kisses.
Oh boy. Yuuri, Viktor, please forgive us.
“Mm, Yuuuri~” Viktor hummed, running his hands through Yuuri’s hair. “It’s been a year and now I can finally have you. ~”
“You already have me, silly.” Yuuri giggled, resting his forehead against Viktor’s and kissing him gently, guiding him to the bed.
Phichit sent a cautionary glance to Christophe, who promptly pulled out his phone and started typing. Phichit glanced down onto the screen.
AltaGrace: oooooh cuties
TerriTuberdize: Publicity stunt calling it
c_giacometti: Just so you all know; if this starts to get too sexual, we will end the stream.
KareBare: ty chris ;-;
RippMyAss: u gotta be fuckin kiddin me chris
c_giacometti: It’s a violation of privacy and non-consensual voyeurism. I know I can be inappropriate but it’s a charade and I respect other people’s privacy.
KareBare: ty uncle chris
c_giacometti: Oh Lord am I actually old enough to be a skating uncle now?
Adaripp: Chris you get used to it as the years fly by.
A gasp sounded, Yuuri pulling away and shedding his tie and blazer.
“Careful now, Vitya, you have been naughty.” Yuuri hummed.
Phichit glanced in Christophe’s direction, mouthing; ‘Now?’
Christophe shook his head, chewing his lip.
“Naughty? How, solnyshko? Care to elaborate?”
“You said that you’d only kiss gold…” Yuuri murmured, slipping off his white dress shirt, belt clinking as he removed it from his fitted slacks. “Such a shame this set is silver.” He tutted, dropping his slacks to reveal silver lingerie.
From the looks of it, all the blood in Viktor’s body was stuck between rushing both north and south as he ran his hands reverently over Yuuri’s body.
“Kid’s got balls.” Christophe noted with a hum, barely audible.
“Should we run?” Phichit asked, watching Yuuri push Viktor onto the bed, leaning closer against the door.
“We should end the stream…” Christophe murmured softly.
“Yeah, you’re ri- WHOA!” Phichit cried, tumbling out of the closet onto the floor.
“PHICHIT?!” Yuuri screeched, face flushed bright red.
“Um. Congrats on the medal?” Phichit laughed nervously, sitting up to see Viktor’s eyes widen.
“Christophe Giacometti, if you dare-” Viktor began, voice laced with venom.
“Run.” Christophe said, putting the mouthpiece to his lips.
Phichit nodded, bringing himself to his feet, grabbing his phone and sprinting out of the room, camera shaking and adrenaline pumping in his veins.
“MOTHERFUCKER!” Phichit heard Viktor shout as the soft crooning chords of the sax filled the halls.
“Well. That’s, um, it, forever, I’m gonna run for my life now okay bye!” Phichit said quickly, catching a glimpse of Yuuri in the corner of his screen, quickly ending the stream.
“PHICHIT CHULANONT I AM GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!”