Chapter Text
Another Tuesday afternoon. Viktor sighed, wiping down the counter as he gazed out into the quiet shop.
The lounge area was a collection of low tables and big poufs, some out in the open and some partitioned off into elevated private rooms, cozy and intimate. The sun shone in over everything, bright and warm as it spilled through high windows. The only other light came from a collection of paper lanterns, star-shaped and glowing in golds and purples above each table.
The kettles were full, the tables were empty, and Viktor couldn’t be bothered as he hummed a little tune and poured his own cup of dark, smoky lapsang souchong.
The chime of bells shook Viktor from his little meditation. He looked toward the door, where a customer he’d never seen before was idling, hovering apprehensively over the threshold. His gaze caught eyes of velvety brown which darted around nervously from behind blue plastic glasses.
“Oh, welcome!” he said with a smile, gathering up a little handbell and a thick, leather-bound book of teas. “Feel free to sit wherever you find most comfortable. I’ll be over in a moment to answer any questions you may have.” He gave the new guest—the new, very handsome guest—a little wink as he handed over the menu and the bell. “And of course, whenever you’re ready, just give me a ring.”
There was a soft smile from chapped lips and a barely-whispered “Thank you” before the guest disappeared into one of the tea shop’s private outcoves. As tempted as Viktor was to follow, he stayed behind the counter, an unusual flutter in his chest as he anticipated the ring of the bell.
Guests to the Rize Cay tea shop were often trendy, especially in the newly-gentrified college town where Viktor had once been able to make ends meet. He spent his days teasing the cuffs of big, chunky, off-the-shoulder sweaters or offering to hang up wide-brimmed hats, chatting candidly with other twenty-somethings who came in for some western notion of what might have been an eastern atmosphere. Everyone sat on little leather poufs on the floor around low tables, their shoes waiting beneath the little wooden steps that led to the tea rooms, their laptops undoubtedly displaying some sort of homework text or creative endeavor they were seeking to work on. Viktor had updated their seating a little bit since opening, including the more traditional caning chairs and sofas, following Yura’s insistence that “If people wanted to sit on the floor and drink shitty tea, they’d do it in their own damn homes!”
Viktor didn’t think the tea was shitty. After all, he’d curated the menu. He knew just how expensive his selections were, and as such he did his very best to brew them to perfection, to order, every time for every customer. He kept his staff well-trained in this regard. His entire mission was warmth and hospitality.
All of that was to say that this new customer… well, Viktor wasn’t exactly prepared for him. He wasn’t necessarily trendy—not even fashion-conscious, if Viktor had to guess—but those big, velveteen eyes and the curves that hid beneath the cracks of those chapped lips were alluring in a way that Viktor hadn’t had a moment to think about for a long time.
He nearly dropped his cup of tea when he heard the bell ring, thrilled to find the guest had chosen one of the cozier private tables. He pulled out his notebook and dropped to his knees at the low table, now eye-to-eye with the sweet-faced man who was puzzling over the giant menu of options.
It was all part of the design, the intimacy of this setup. Viktor knew he was attractive; everyone who worked at Rize Cay was. ‘Cozy, candid, and companionable’ was the mantra he’d written into the codes of both conduct and dress for all the servers, and no one did it better than Viktor.
“Okay, what questions do you have for me?” he asked, resting his cheek on one hand as he spun a pencil in the other. “I’ll do my best to make some recommendations if you have an idea of what you’re looking for!”
Smiles are contagious. He smiled up at the guest and watched him melt into a grin of his own.
“Okay, I do have a few questions.”
His voice was soft but striking, washing over Viktor like the warm, gentle tones of a clarinet, like a low tide in the summer.
“One—Do you have any recommendations? I’m kind of lost. And two—” He looked up to meet Viktor’s gaze. Those dark eyes were actually much lighter than Viktor had caught on to; now that they were turned directly on him, Viktor could see the warmth of the sunset in the gold striations of his irises. “—What’s your name? I’m Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki.”
Yuuri.
Viktor loved the way that sounded. Sure, one of the servers was also Yuri, but his name sounded squashed and guttural compared to the unhurried, soft-angled flip of this man’s name.
Yuuri.
“It’s quite a pleasure to meet you, Yuuri,” he said, taking great care to form his embouchure around the syllables, like drawing a silk ribbon from between his lips. “I’m Viktor. I’ll be here to take care of anything you may need.”
He leaned forward on his elbows to flip through Yuuri’s menu as he spoke, turning to the pages that corresponded to his recommendations.
“If you like green, I would highly recommend the gyokuro. It’s shade-grown and never matured past twenty days. Drink this, and you’ll feel as princely as you look! If not, we have a beautiful and delicate Darjeeling first flush—that just means it’s the first crop of leaves to be picked for the season, or a quangzhou milk oolong, which tastes creamy and sweet without adding anything.”
He looked up to make sure Yuuri was following; he often ran the risk of bloviating or running away with his own excitement when it came to tea. Once again, he was struck by how beautiful this quiet, rosy-cheeked man was.
“Of course, my personal favorites are the pu-erh teas. They’re sort of different. They’re aged in big bricks and were once used as currency. Very warm and earthy. I highly recommend the chi tse bing cha. ”
Yuuri giggled; it was like champagne bubbles, and Viktor was instantly drunk.
“Feel as princely as I look? Aren’t you the charmer. I’m probably more of a glasses-type than a prince-type, don’t you think? You look much more like a prince than me—the most regal I’ve ever seen, and the cu—”
The words seemed to choke out before Yuuri could say them. His words seemingly ahead of him, he clapped a hand to his mouth, his cheeks going a particularly soft twinge of crimson. Viktor felt his own face begin to burn. Just what was he about to say? But before he could stammer out a response, this Yuuri Katsuki seemed to compose himself and gave him another warm smile, and all of his worries were washed away.
“I… just the gyokuro for now.” His impish face was no way reflected in the salve of his voice. It just wasn’t fair. “And maybe… a bit of your time? If it wouldn’t be too troublesome? I don’t know many people in this town outside of my job. It doesn’t have to be… I mean, like a date, but not like a date date, like… just… oh my god, sorry no, um… Do you have some time to sit and talk?”
“Oh? What? Really? Yes please!” Viktor rambled, completely forgetting how to write and scribbling nonsense in his notebook. “Gyokuro, and I’ll see what I can do about that date.”
“Not a date!” Yuuri groaned over an unmistakable giggle. Viktor rushed back to the counter, hardly able to contain himself as he prepared a teapot and all of the necessary accessories.
Gyokuro was a fast but mild brew. Viktor kept the water temperature low and lit a small candle beneath the pot to keep it warm. He sprinkled a pinch of dark green rolled leaves into a little gaiwan and gathered the rest of his accessories—which included two teacups.
He returned to another smile, still nervous but a bit more daring, a bit more open despite the red that was deepening in his cheeks.
“I’m sorry to inform you that we’re all out of dates in the back,” Viktor said, fighting to keep a straight face as he knelt down and taking care to set the tea tray down without any spillage. “We have sultanas and prunes if you’d like.”
Yuuri hid his face in his hands. “No you don’t,” he groaned. “You really brought two cups!”
“I really wanted to sit with you,” Viktor admitted. “I want to know who thinks they can come into my shop and pick me out like one of the desserts in the bakery case.”
Yuuri’s eyes widened. Viktor could see it from behind his fingers, and with that he couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore.
“Joking! Joking!”
“So rude to a paying customer,” Yuuri shot back, and Viktor’s shoulders softened with relief to see the playful expression return to his face. “That’ll be reflected in my Yelp review.”
Viktor snorted, his hands shaking from poorly-concealed laughter as he poured water into the lidded cup, then into the teacup. He passed the second pour through a small mesh strainer to catch any remaining leaves before holding the cup out for Yuuri to take and then poured his own.
He hadn’t known that he had been lonely. He never felt lonely, cooped up inside the tea house. He considered the colleagues with whom he shared everything to be some of his best friends, even if they were the only people he really interacted with. Well, there was Christophe, who tended bar across the street and offered discounted drinks for neighboring small business owners. They had gone out on occasion in the past, but Viktor was mainly just another one of his customers.
He wondered if he could consider Yuuri more than that someday.