Chapter Text
At age twenty-seven, Viktor Nikiforov was the best matchmaker in New York City, operating his one-man business out of a small office in Manhattan. The venture had started as a way to help combat his mounting student debt, but by the time he graduated with his bachelor’s in Psychology, he was spending more time running his business than studying. His professors urged him to stay in school, so he could pursue a “real career” in the field, but Viktor was twenty-two and high on success most people his age could only dream of. Within a year, his face was on billboards across the city, his phone was ringing off the hook, and he was on the guest list at all of the right parties at the right clubs. There was even talk about a reality show, for a time, but he ultimately turned that down. While he did enjoy all of the attention - soaked it up like a sponge, even - Viktor always prioritized his job over his fame.
Unfortunately, all of that was gone just as easily as it came. With websites like OKCupid offering up a similar service for free, Viktor had seen his business dwindle over the years. He was still the best, he knew it, and surely everyone in the city - no, the entire world - knew it, too. But it was hard to compete with free. Especially when a lack of customers meant he had to up his rates just to keep his tiny office running. Especially when he was so good at his job that repeat customers weren’t very common.
Thankfully, Viktor had a few strategies to keep him going. The middle-aged, divorcee, “still afraid to use the internet” crowd was just as desperate to find love as the young, hip twenty-somethings; they made up most of his clientele, these days. He also had a niche following with people who actually enjoyed the matchmaking process, understood and appreciated his personal touch, who recommended him to friends and family struggling to find someone. The desperate, Viktor found, were way more likely to throw their money at him for a shot at love. And he was more than happy to deliver.
But over the past year, he had to take more drastic measures to keep food on the table. He hosted two speed dating events a month, and abhorred every second of it. They felt so forced, and rarely did he see two people go home together who he truly believed would stay that way. Books were another way to make some fast cash; anything with his face and name on the cover quickly rose to the top of the best seller list. But even as he finished up his fifth book, he knew his heart would never really be in any of them. He didn’t care about reaching millions of people he would never actually see. He liked dealing with them one-on-one. He liked the feeling of personal satisfaction that came along with introducing someone to the love of their life.
His latest attempt to reel in more customers was to imitate his competition, and offer up his services for free.
Not for everyone, of course, and not all of the time. Viktor would give away a sort of “starter package”, which included filling out the profile, and one free match. These consultations were offered up as prizes at charity auctions, raffle drawings at large companies, or, in today’s case, as a prize for a special Valentine’s Day giveaway at one of the local colleges.
From day one, Viktor got mixed results from the winners. Sometimes they would turn into repeat customers, other times the client would stop coming once the free services had ended. Some took the process just as seriously as they would if they were paying for Viktor’s time, and some were so frustratingly uninterested that Viktor was happy when they never called or emailed him back for a second match.
It had never happened before that someone who had managed to secure one of his free consultations didn’t bother showing up at all. Viktor looked at the clock with a frown; Yuuri Katsuki was fifteen minutes late for his appointment. Viktor was considering closing up for the day and treating himself to a very expensive lunch when his office door finally burst open.
It had to be the client; no one else would have traversed the five flights of stairs to get to Viktor’s office. He was late, but based on his appearance, it wasn’t for lack of trying. There was a large coffee stain on his faded jeans, the beanie on his head was barely hanging on, revealing a head full of thick, black hair. His coat was lopsidedly buttoned, and his soft, round cheeks flushed as he struggled to catch his breath.
“I’m sorry,” he huffed, tugging his scarf away from his mouth, using his other hand to rip the hat off of his head completely. “I missed my first bus, and-”
“Tsk, excuses.” Viktor was surprised by how lighthearted his teasing sounded. No bite at all, none of the frustration he felt just moments before. “If you can’t even make your appointment on time, how am I supposed to take you seriously as a client? Are you going to treat my other customers this way, too? They’re actually paying for my services, you know.”
“No! No no no! I’m sorry!” He did look genuinely sorry, like he could burst into tears at any moment. Viktor chuckled lightly to himself; even just one year ago, he would turn a client away for being more than five minutes late. No one else would treat his time like the valuable commodity it was if he didn’t. Now? He couldn’t afford such a luxury. If there was even a chance that this man could become a paying customer, Viktor had to do everything in his power to keep him happy. And even if he could afford to kick him out of his office, something about Katsuki was… endearing. Viktor couldn’t quite put a finger on what, or why, but that just made him all the more eager to chat with him.
“It’s fine. Please, take a seat, Mr. Katsuki.” The poor, dingy, plush red chair in front of his desk had seen better days, but replacing it wasn’t in the budget for now. Occasionally, a customer would comment on it, but Yuuri didn’t seem to mind. He removed his bag, scarf, and coat before sitting down. The shirt under his coat, much to Viktor’s disappointment, was just as disheveled as the rest of his outfit.
“Is that how you always dress?” The criticism was out of his mouth without a second thought.
“Um… yes?” Yuuri looked down at himself, tugging at his shirt, as if he had never given his outfit a second thought. “Is that alright? I-I mean, the coffee stain happened on the bus, but before that, I thought I looked okay this morning...”
Viktor sighed. “It’s… alright. Make sure you iron your shirt for your date. You might not care about impressing me personally, but you do want to make a good impression on them, don’t you?”
“But no one irons their t-shirts-”
“Don’t you?”
Yuuri sighed with defeat, and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Again, Viktor laughed. “Please, you can just call me Viktor.” He slides a red folder across the desk; Yuuri’s personality profile, just waiting to be filled out. “Well, let’s get right to it, shall we? I like to talk to my clients a little during their first visit, get a feel for what they’re really like. It’s hard to quantify everything on paper, you know. Do you mind if we chat while you fill all of this out, or would you rather work in silence?”
“I can do both.” Yuuri sounded a bit unsure, but he took the folder anyway. “I’d hate to take up too much of your time.”
Viktor had his own clipboard at the ready. Anything Yuuri said that seemed important was going right into that folder as soon as the other man was out the door. Sometimes, Viktor found, his own observations were more helpful than anything his clients divulged in their paperwork. “Nonsense, you’re my customer. My time is already yours, even if you’re not paying for it; if you didn’t want to take advantage of it, you shouldn’t have entered that raffle.”
It was Yuuri’s turn to laugh. He used the pen to scratch the back of his ear. “I didn’t, actually. One of my friends put my name in.”
“Oh?” Viktor tilted his chair forward, interest peaked. These were the kinds of things he liked to know about clients. Little details he couldn’t possibly put on the questionnaire, or it would be a mile long. “Why would they do that?”
“I think…” Yuuri paused, the silence filled with the sound of his pen against the paper. Viktor couldn’t help wondering what he’s writing, but the knowledge that his curiosity will be satisfied soon was enough to keep him from trying to get a peek. “They’re worried about me? They don’t want me to end up alone.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“Well, I don’t want me to end up alone, either…”
“Then why are they so worried?” Viktor sat back in his chair, twirling his pen between his fingers. Yuuri seemed kind, had a pleasant demeanor, and was quite cute; the odds of someone like that ending up alone were low. Unless Yuuri was self-sabotaging, or not trying at all. “You do date, don’t you?”
“Well… no.”
Bingo. Viktor smirked; he knew he was the best, put proving it to himself never got old. ”Why not?”
“It’s just… hard, you know?” Yuuri frowned, looking down at his hands for a moment. “Well, you probably don’t know, but-”
“Oh, that’s not true at all. I see dozens of people like you every day.” The number was an exaggeration, of course. Viktor was lucky if he could book that many appointments in a week. But Yuuri didn’t need to know that. Yuuri needed to have faith in Viktor, or any match he could come up with would be doomed from the start. “I know it isn’t always easy to put yourself out there, everyone has their own insecurities.”
“Even you?”
The question caught him off guard - Viktor wasn’t used to being asked questions about himself during the interview process - but he smiled, and nodded. “Yes, even me.”
Yuuri raised his eyebrows, looking doubtful as he returned his attention to the questionnaire. “If you say so…”
“Hmm? You don’t believe me?”
“It’s just hard to imagine someone like you…” Yuuri stopped writing again, considering his next words carefully. The small wrinkle that formed between his eyebrows while he was thinking too hard looked so kissable, Viktor couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Spending a Saturday night at home by yourself.”
Such a tactful way to put it. “Well, that is true, I am incredibly handsome and successful. If I feel like going out, or staying in, company is never hard to find.”
Yuuri looked pleased with himself. “I knew it.”
“But it isn’t just about getting a date, Yuuri,” Viktor assured him, leaning forward again. Yuuri leaned back in his own chair, undoing all of Viktor’s effort to shorten the distance between them. Even when he was no longer sitting in the chair, all of his weight supported by the wooden desk in between them, Yuuri still found a way to move further away from him. It was a shame, really; he had such a nice face, even up close, Viktor had a hard time finding any features that he didn’t like. “It’s about getting the right date. Going out just to go out is such a waste of time, don’t you think? It’s not very romantic, either.”
Yuuri nodded slowly, his eyes locked on Viktor’s. Nervous, but determined, unwilling to look away. “Y-yeah, I think so, too.”
Viktor’s ass returned to his seat, and he jotted that down in his notes. Yuuri had no interest in serial dating. “I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Katsuki. It means I’m not wasting my time finding you the perfect date.”
Another laugh. God, it was a cute laugh. Viktor was half-tempted to send Yuuri and his date to a comedy club for their date. It wasn’t exactly the most romantic idea, but anyone would fall in love with him if they could just listen to him laugh. “Please, just call me Yuuri.”
“Yuuri…” Viktor repeated the name slowly, and wrote that down in his notes as well. The casual type; something anyone could have guessed simply based on the way he was dressed. “So tell me, Yuuri, what kind of people are you interested in? Men, women? Older, younger? Blondes? You’d look good next to a blonde, I think. Come on, no need to be shy! I’m the one setting you up; you won’t be happy with the result if you’re not completely honest with me.”
All of those questions were covered in great detail in the standard profile, but for the first time in a long time, Viktor was actually anxious to know the answers. As soon as Yuuri left the office, Viktor would be reading his paperwork as if it were a long-awaited sequel to a favorite book.
“I… I don’t really care much about hair color.” Yuuri nodded his head once, as if he was trying to reassure himself of that fact.
“And…?”
“And… Well, women are alright, but I prefer men.” The look on his face told Viktor that he had been itching to let out that fact for a while. “Um, men around my age, if that’s alright.”
“It’s more than alright, Yuuri.” Viktor reached across the desk to tap Yuuri’s nose with his pen, and the little yelp that escaped his mouth was so utterly adorable. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his day chatting with his new client, but he was a professional. “Finish your paperwork, then we’ll get you squared away for the big day.”
Viktor had plenty of work he could be doing while Yuuri finished up. Five other raffle winners from other schools and companies had appointments earlier in the week to complete their own questionnaires, and their folders still sat on the desk, waiting to be matched. There were invoices in his email waiting to be paid or sent, yet another tedious speed dating event to coordinate, unread Facebook messages from his parents that had been left that way for days. For a matchmaker quickly running out of work, Viktor had plenty of it to do.
Instead, he decided to spend his time writing fake e-mails while he watched Yuuri write out his answers. Viktor couldn’t remember the last time someone took filling out the profile so seriously. Or, maybe he just didn’t pay that much attention; watching someone fill out paperwork was only marginally more fun than watching paint dry. But Yuuri’s face was so expressive, and the little humming sounds he made when he was really thinking about something were very, very cute.
“I think I’m finished?” With some hesitation, Yuuri slid the folder back across the desk. “Sorry, my handwriting isn’t the best…”
“I can guarantee you I’ve seen worse.” Viktor said, without bothering to even look. Once he started, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. “I will review your answers, and set you up with a date for Valentine’s Day. Your meal will go on my tab, all you need to do is show up. After I match you, I’ll text you the address. Is that alright?”
“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you for your time sir- I mean, Viktor. That was… actually kind of fun.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Viktor smiled, and… Oh god, was he blushing? He couldn’t remember the last time another person had made him blush. “Take care, and do be on time for your date, please. I do have a reputation to uphold.”
Yuuri had barely shut the door behind him before Viktor opened the folder. The handwriting was a little sloppy, just as Yuuri said it would be, but thankfully still legible. Viktor felt a little like he was eavesdropping, but he knew that was ridiculous. Yuuri had given him all of that information of his own volition, and Viktor needed to familiarize himself with it in order to do his job. Still, as he carefully read over the profile, Viktor couldn’t chase off that feeling...
Yuuri was twenty-three, and a fifth year college senior, working on a degree in education. He classified himself as a bisexual man, with a strong preference for men. He was five feet and eight inches tall, and listed his weight as one-hundred and seventy-five pounds. His hobbies were cooking, reading, dancing, and playing video games. He was moderately comfortable with public displays of affection, and preferred personal, less expensive dates to clubbing or expensive trips. He was a dog person, but lived in an apartment that would not allow him to have one himself (a tragedy!).
Viktor’s smile grew wider and wider the more he read. What a delightful man! Finding a perfect date for him should be easy enough. Who wouldn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day with such a sweet person? And he was cute, too. If Viktor could find a compatible match, Yuuri might have a real shot at falling in love.
It wasn’t just about having identical answers to every question; anyone with half a brain knew that much. There were some questions that absolutely needed to be identical, or at least very close to it, for a match to work, of course. Viktor had learned the hard way, in the early days of his business, that “Are you a cat person, or a dog person?” was one such question. Similar socioeconomic backgrounds and childhood experiences were also important. Extreme introverts and extreme extroverts weren’t likely to make it through a single date, even if they were compatible otherwise.
But matchmaking was much more complicated than finding common interests. Not even the biggest narcissists in the world wanted to date someone exactly like themselves. Any idiot off the street could pull two similar questionnaires and set those people up, but Viktor’s method involved a lot more attention to detail. For him, matchmaking was about finding two people who could balance out each other’s weaknesses. It was about putting himself in his client's’ shoes, figuring out what they needed in a relationship - especially when they themselves didn’t know - what they would be attracted to in another person. It was about finding two people who could come together and make a sum greater than their parts.
It was… about having enough candidates in the pool to even have a shot at making such a thing happen for Yuuri Katsuki. In his glory days, Viktor had a very large filing cabinet full of profiles, organized by age, sexual preferences, and other arbitrary attributes. Part of the reason he never bothered taking on an assistant was because of his organization system; no one in the world could possibly understand it but him. Not that he could afford to pay such a person anymore, anyway…
Now, he was down to one drawer, and at least half of them were middle-aged women. About as far from Yuuri’s type as anyone could be. Still, a small pool meant it was easier to remember each and every person in it. Viktor reached for one of the folders, - but then he stopped himself. There were a few men in there who would do just fine, but Viktor found himself toying with another idea. Yuuri Katsuki deserves better than ‘just fine’...
“It’s a shame, really...” He sighed, completely forlorn, as he slid the drawer closed. “Not a single one of these will work for poor, sweet, lonely Yuuri. I suppose I’ll have to improvise.”