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“We can do it!” Chris sang in character, extending a hand in invitation to Yuuri.
Yuuri couldn’t do it.
“We can do it!”
When Yuuri had tried out for a Broadway revival of The Producers, he had not actually expected to get cast. Phichit had convinced him it would be a good dry run, a first-time practice session. Playing the part of a shy and quiet man with dreams of hitting it big despite his anxiety had apparently been too good of a fit, because Yuuri had nearly had a heart attack when he got the callback. His phone had slipped from his hand and bounced down a full flight of stairs, but the cracked case was worth it since, a short while later, Yuuri had a real script shaking between his fingers.
“We can do it!”
He really, really could not do it. It was too much, too fast, too soon, and all at once. It had been a blur of table readings, at-home recitals, music runs, and costume and makeup tests. They were a little over a week away from the preview and Yuuri was still delivering his lines breathlessly half the time. He needed to sing, dance, and act a charming mess, all the while opposite some of the most famous stage names off the silver screen. And thinking of silver, Yuuri was supposed to do a practice run of That Face with Victor “Too Many Tonys to Count” Nikiforov that same afternoon. A full practice. With music and costumes and the stage set all ready, while Yuuri was far from set. A full practice meant actually stuffing his face in that wonderful chest at the start of the number, and kissing those wonderful lips at the end of it. Victor was the real reason Yuuri had worked up the courage to audition, and he was going to be the reason Yuuri tanked the entire production.
“We can do it!”
“I can’t do it.” There was no way. Not with Yuuri tripping over his own feet and forgetting lines and getting so flustered that his blush burned through his foundation anytime Victor got within a thirty-foot radius. Let his understudy take this one, Yuuri could have his shot at stardom begin off-off-off-off-off-Broadway, like every other theatre actor. Like Victor had, clawing his way up from the bottom through sheer talent… and a generous dose of good looks.
“Beautiful girls, wearing nothing but pearls.” The first time Yuuri had interacted with Victor in private, it had been in his dressing room. He might as well have been in nothing but pearls, clad in only a skimpy black thong that did little to hide all the things Yuuri’s dreams were made of. Victor had all but jumped on Yuuri in greeting, enthusiastically welcoming and congratulating him. Yuuri’s reaction had been much like Leo Bloom’s. “Chasing me, embracing me... I’d have an attack!”
“Cut!”
Oh, no. Not again. Yuuri could already hear the shouted feedback verberating in his ears.
“Katsuki, you’re too stiff! You’re singing on a stage, not some back alley karaoke parlor!” Lilia shouted from her observation seat, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Emote! Panic! I want to feel your doubt! I want to see you shaking up there! Shaking!”
Yuuri had doubts, alright, a whole lot of them. They had gotten him wrong. He should cut his losses and say so long because he was not as strong of a performer as they seemed to think.
“Believe me, Lilia, he’s shaking,” Chris drawled from Yuuri’s side. Another award winner—Yuuri had really screwed himself over. No one would notice him in the middle of all the stars. He certainly wouldn’t. “Shouldn’t he be stiff? It fits his character. He’s carrying that off just fine.”
“I want him playing stiff, not being stiff!”
Well, that made sense.
“Again!” Lilia snapped, waving them on. “From the top!”
They reset to their starting positions, with Yuuri seated at the desk to Chris’ staged office, Chris draped over him in preparation of coaxing his character into a life of crime and lack of punishments. On Lilia’s mark, Chris launched into his lines, as flawless as any other professional. “Step one! We find the worst play ever written!”
As hard as he tried, Yuuri really could not, could not, could not, could not, could not, could not do it.
“Yuuri!”
Yuuri choked on the water he was sipping, pursing his lips together to keep himself from doing a spit take straight into the most perfect face in the world. Victor sprinted for him, catching Yuuri on his break backstage. Yuuri capped the water bottle and set it down, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how they trembled. “Hi,” he breathed.
“I saw you with Chris earlier.” Victor stood slightly too close for comfort and yet Yuuri could not bring himself to step away. Victor was magnetic, both on stage and off it. Yuuri could not help getting pulled in. “How are you feeling?”
“Ummm, okay. Getting used to it.” He kept floating between being convinced there was no way he would be ready in time and thinking he might just be able to manage. “What did you think?”
Victor tapped a finger to his lips, tilting his head to the side as if he was also curious as to that answer. He cast Yuuri a sweet smile that could break a thousand hearts, including Yuuri’s.
“Oh, no, not you too,” Yuuri exhaled, ready to sink to his knees in crushing defeat. His casting had come as a result of Victor’s influence and if he didn’t think Yuuri was meeting expectations, all hope was lost. He could see the programs and promo materials being redesigned already.
“You need to have more confidence in yourself,” Victor offered in advice, reaching over to smooth down the collar of Yuuri’s shirt. Yuuri had no idea how he did it so casually and how it made Yuuri want to swoon so much.
“How?” Yuuri asked. Victor had confidence to spare, and Yuuri would love to be able to borrow even half a percent of the brilliance he naturally radiated. “Share your wisdom with me, dear Victor.”
Smiling in response, Victor gave Yuuri’s cheek a gentle pinch. “It’s simple. In the words of the great Roger De Bris,” he said, leaning in to whisper against Yuuri’s ear, “keep it gay.”
Yuuri’s heart fell over itself in a sudden sprint. No worries there. Victor had him feeling as gay as anyone could possibly want.
“Ughhh, I actually do look like the Chrysler building,” Georgi muttered, looking down at the glittering gown he was in. He rotated, twisting from side to side, as if a particular angle might make him appear less like a feat of architectural brilliance.
“You’re supposed to look like the Chrysler building,” Chris drawled, rolling his eyes. “That’s the joke, queenie.”
Georgi’s character showing up for an appointment in drag was meant to be amusing and a demonstration of exactly how extra he was. “You look stunning, Georgi,” Yuuri complimented, knowing that he would have appreciated the reassurance if he were in Georgi’s place. “Even as the Chrysler building.”
The swimming softness in Georgi’s heavily mascaraed eyes snapped the moment Victor strolled by, adding in his own comment of, “At least you don’t look like Trump Tower.”
Yuuri had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from snorting at the joke.
One by one, the rehearsed scenes began to fall into place. They took breaks between each one, allowing the stage crew to practice rotating the completed sets. In a couple of days they would be in tech week and there would be no breaks. Yuuri had only those couple of days to get himself pulled together. Working with the cast was getting easier, while working alone with Victor still left him feeling a bit of a wreck.
The first scene Victor and Yuuri had tested together was the When You’ve Got It, Flaunt It number. Yuuri only regretted that he wasn’t the one who got to shout, “Flaunt it, flaunt it!” at him earlier in the show, because damn did Victor have it. When Yuuri found out Victor wouldn’t be wearing short, tight dresses in his part of Ulla, he had almost been disappointed. Then he had seen the adapted costumes. And wow. He had not been prepared. It really did feel like a volcano erupting inside of him as he sat and watched Victor dance in extremely tight pants, a fitted vest, and a white shirt that was more open than it was closed.
When Victor had hugged him during that run-through of Ulla’s audition, enveloping Yuuri in his arms and kissing his cheek upon being “hired,” Yuuri had not been acting as he practically combusted onstage. It was partially for that that Yuuri was getting through his role without flopping majorly. His nerves, his ticks, his stammering wove flawlessly into the character of Leo Bloom. Therein lay his problem, because he could get away with channeling his anxiety into the role until it came time for their pair number, where he had been channeling it a bit too much.
Singing about his attempt to resist the temptation of desire and the effortless appeal of the gorgeous human who shared the stage with him should have been relatable. Yuuri’s issue was that each time they rehearsed it, in part or in full, he either held back too much or had to stop himself from going too far. Because it was easy to go too far when Victor Nikiforov was further unbuttoning his sparkly navy costume and insisting that Yuuri needed to get used to nuzzling into his chest if they were going to make their chemistry work. Yuuri felt like suffocating each time that he did, from both bliss and apprehension.
It would be fine. It would go well. He and Victor did go well together, Yuuri always just psyched himself up too much at the start. He simply needed to breathe, to relax, to let himself go.
As Chris slammed the prop door shut upon storming off the stage, Yuuri inhaled deeply and looked into the lights. This was a rehearsal. Despite everything, he had yet to be kicked to the curb. He could sing, he could dance, he could lift Victor off a desk and sweep him through a melodious, metaphorical behind-the-sofa leg-kicking session. After all, this was just, “Work, work, work. Work, work, work.”
Their private, off-stage rehearsals had not done much to calm Yuuri’s anxiety. Victor flirted as much out of character as he did in character. They had sung to each other in Victor’s dressing room, Victor guiding Yuuri through it after a disastrous trial on stage. That had been fine, relaxed enough that Yuuri had pulled Victor into the dance only to conclude abruptly when Victor got a little too close at the end. Yuuri really was a sucker for, “That face, that face, that dangerous face. I mustn't be unwise.”
Victor smiled at Yuuri as he sang, letting the notes quiver in his throat. He had confessed to Victor that it happened when he was in a state of uncertainty, to which Victor responded that Yuuri’s character was constantly in a state of uncertainty. “Those lips, that nose, those eyes… Could lead to my demise.”
Yuuri’s heart pounded a rhythm that did not match the score as Victor leaned toward him, puckering his lips. Yuuri swore that the song had been written with Victor in mind, the lyrics matching Yuuri’s inner turmoil perfectly. “That face, that face, that marvelous face. I never should begin. Those cheeks, that neck, that chin… will surely do me in.”
After rehearsals had first begun, some three weeks prior, the entire cast and crew had been invited out for a bonding dinner. Not all had gone, but Yuuri had, wanting to push himself to adapt to what would surely be an almost overwhelming experience. He had had a few drinks too many that night, only vaguely remembering stripping and singing a duet with Chris as well as a dance or two with Victor. He had been terrified it would get him fired before the show even started, yet it had seemed to have the opposite effect. From the next session onwards, Victor had stuck to his side like a thorn of the most wonderful rose.
As the music picked up in tempo, Yuuri moved across the stage, adjusting the tie of his accountant’s suit in a nervous gesture. “That face, that face, that fabulous face.”
It wasn’t just Victor’s face. In the moments when Yuuri let his worries go, when a practice went well, the thrill of the performance went beyond a high. He could sing about achieving his dreams, about falling in love, and giggle through the missteps of a samba caused by Victor’s hips accidentally knocking him out of line. A week prior, Victor had asked him out for lunch together and caused them to return late, laughing as they dodged between doors and props backstage. Victor had grabbed his hand and pulled Yuuri out of the collision path of a rolling wardrobe rack, finally getting back on set to curious looks from their co-stars and a disapproving glare from Lilia.
“I’m certain if I fall in love, I’m lost without a trace. But it’s worth it for that face.”
Yuuri stepped up to where Victor stood atop a desk, holding his arms out toward Yuuri. His hands settled on Yuuri’s shoulders while Yuuri’s gripped his waist, slowly lowering him onto the floor and against his chest. The music shimmered into a shift as the lights lowered, casting a soft blue across the stage.
The dance with Victor was always where Yuuri felt the most concern and yet it was also what came most naturally once they were in the swing of it. Yuuri two-stepped his retreat from Victor’s approach before chasing after him, the push and pull of their characters’ courting turning into a dance. Yuuri took Victor’s hand in his and spun him in, biting back a smile as Victor led them in a skip around the set. The Producers had always been one of Yuuri’s favorite musicals, if only for the fantasy of a tall and gorgeous foreign blonde falling for an anxious yet determined dreamer.
As their steps fell in line and they twirled with each other in a manner meant to demonstrate them falling in love over time, Yuuri caught sight of the genuine smile on Victor’s face. Yuuri squeezed his hand to the trumpet of the horns, guiding Victor forward in a momentary waltz before they were tripping over the sofa at the center of the stage. Yuuri held Victor’s hand as he fell over the edge, dragged down after him.
“This is my favorite part,” Victor mouthed at him, making Yuuri bite the inside of his cheeks so the microphone strapped to his collar would not pick up his laughter. They grabbed onto each other’s arms to hold the position, kicking their legs up over the top of the sofa like a bicycle. They shook the sofa together to simulate some passionate nooky, Victor bumping playfully against Yuuri in the process since they were hidden from the audience.
As they climbed back over the sofa to sit together, Yuuri buzzed with the elation of having Victor sing the lines of the song back to him. “That face, that face, that lovable face. It melts my Russian heart.”
“I’m certain if I fall in love, I’m lost without a trace…” Yuuri jumped off the sofa, offering his hand for Victor once more to take him into the slow dance that concluded the number. Victor accepted, his expression soft as he stepped into Yuuri, their voices melding to sing the final lines together. “But it’s worth it for… that face.”
The notes ascended into the concluding crescendo and Victor leaned into him, one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and the other coming up to caress the back of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri had been shying away from that particular aspect of the performance, no matter how many times Victor reminded him that they were supposed to kiss on stage. Except Yuuri was meant to be a professional and the hopeful expression on Victor’s face was a stark reminder that he needed to hurry up and live up to his role. Overcome his fears, live his dreams, get the boy. Ulla was supposed to kiss Leo in the scene.
Instead, Yuuri tilted up on the balls of his feet and kissed Victor hard, directly on those beautiful lips, on that beautiful face.
While it was true that Leo Bloom’s character was erratic, over-the-top and, at the end of it all, a con man, Yuuri admired how he had set aside all his uncertainties to chase after the goal he’d had from a young age. Yuuri saw himself in the character, even feeling like he had conned his way in after his surprisingly successful audition. “I have a secret desire hiding deep in my soul. It sets my heart afire to see me in this role…”
While each of his scenes with Victor had him jittery with excitement, his solo number was the true test of his skills. All attention would be on him and even the pearl-clad chorus girls would not be enough of a distraction if he messed up. However, the number was also about putting on confidence, about visualizing his future success and leading himself to take that plunge. Yuuri had already taken it. He knew how it felt, to go from talking himself down from a panic right before his very first Broadway audition, to talking himself up into accepting the offered role. “I wanna be a producer…”
Yuuri had imagined the same for himself. Going from the struggle of being an unemployed student to the enchantment of performing with the world’s most acclaimed talents. His imagination had also run wild, concocting visions of the glitz and glamor that went along with star billing on a Broadway show. The red carpets, the champagne, the congratulatory bouquets, the one specific man at his side.
When he thought of that, it was easy to channel Leo Bloom into his song and dance, starting slowly and climbing before coming back to a dull reality—yet a reality that held the promise of a chance. “I want to be a producer…”
All he had to do was reach out and grab it. “I want to be a producer—wait a minute. Wait a minute! Hold everything! What am I doing here?!”
Yuuri shoved himself into a standing position from the accounting desk he was seated at, causing the actors around him to react in surprise. With a glint in his eyes, he squared his shoulders, taking his stance. “Mr. Bialystock was right! There is a lot more to me than there is to me! Stop the world, I wanna get on!”
Jumping atop his desk and belting into his conclusion, Yuuri finished to the quiet of a mostly empty theatre. Breathing a bit ragged, he glanced down at the seats to where Lilia was observing, an e-cigarette at her lips. Yuuri waited, not daring to move a millimeter until she hummed, shrugged her shoulders, and waved him on.
Success.
“So romantic, we were frantic. Then our prayers were heard up above!”
Yuuri watched from behind the curtain at stage left in admiration of the choreography and how the dancers rotated on set. Day one of tech week and thus far everything was going well. Chris danced from one partner to the next, battling little old ladies for paper checks. Yuuri smiled. Chris was really far too attractive and charming to play such a sleaze, but he had layered on the impropriety and the indelicacy, selling himself in the role.
“He’s the culmination! The restoration! The consummation! The titillation—”
“—Ejaculation,” came a whisper in Yuuri’s ear, making him jump and shiver. He snapped around, seeing Victor grinning with amusement at his back. Smiling in return, Yuuri elbowed him gently as a tell-off for the surprise. Ever since the success of their on-stage kiss, Yuuri’s nerves had settled. Rehearsals were smoother, the delivery of his lines was cleaner, and he played the anxiety more than experienced it. Victor had been the one who stumbled then, forgetting to exit as the lights went to black and prompting Yuuri to stifle giggles as he had tugged his co-star off to stage right. Seeing Victor dazed, breathless, and capable of making a mistake had helped Yuuri let go of his own fears. And with that concern behind him, Yuuri had been able to turn his attention to another: returning all of Victor’s flirting.
“—He’s the celebration of love!”
Chris ran through lines of actresses made up to look decades older, knocking them off their feet in the process of snagging the checks.
“You know, he complained about not being able to bed a city’s worth of men instead,” Victor muttered to Yuuri, his lips dangerously close to brushing Yuuri’s ear.
“Does he need to here?” Yuuri asked, glancing over his shoulder at Victor and batting his lashes. “I mean, he already does that on the regular.”
Victor lifted a hand to his mouth, covering a scandalized gasp. Yuuri laughed hard enough that one of the fallen little old ladies on stage glared at him.
They were running their final rehearsal before previews. Dressed in a tux fit for an opening night, Yuuri walked on stage as the lights went up. He made a show of checking the front of the theatre while dusting off the producer’s hat in his hand, about to place it on his head. Chris darted out from behind him to snatch it away, scolding him for daring to consider such an act before he could properly be considered a producer. Yuuri’s weak protests were brushed off and then his attention was drawn to Victor rushing over, cooing as he fixed the lapel and collar of Yuuri’s suit.
“Oh, your tie is all askew,” Victor smoothed down the material, casting Yuuri a mischievous smile as Yuuri echoed back the line, as if in automatic wonder.
“Thank you, darling. Have a good show,” Yuuri wished, since Victor’s character was meant to be having his opening night debut in the following scene. He tipped up to peck Victor’s lips. Victor cupped his face in the split second between them breaking apart before they both dove back into a far more heated kiss, the music shifting to sultry saxophones.
Victor had said the sofa-pedalling was his favorite part, but this was Yuuri’s. He clung to Victor like a desperate man, putting his all into the kiss and sparking when Victor’s tongue sank past his lips. His only regret was not rehearsing their kisses earlier, as it meant he had missed out on weeks of this.
“A bit too long on the lip-smacking there!” Lilia’s voice cut through the music at the same time that Chris cleared his throat—unscripted.
Yuuri and Victor broke apart, grinning at one another as Yuuri transitioned flawlessly into his next line. It was difficult, after all, not to get carried away.
“So when we take your money, never fear. We’ll knock Broadway right on its ear!” The lights were bright, the seats were full for the first preview and though his heart beat out of rhythm, Yuuri smiled as he and Chris danced the steps to the closing number. They double-kick stepped in a turn toward the front of the stage, joggling the hats in their hands. “The cast is great, the script is swell, but this we’re tellin’ you, sirs. It’s just no go, you got no show without the producers!”
Despite his jitters, Yuuri had forgotten to worry about his performance the moment he had taken his first step in front of the curtain. He played off his co-stars, channeling any nerves into his character, and when he did drop a line—right at the start when he was meant to be having a panic attack—he simply collapsed against Chris’ chest and beat his fists against it as he screamed. It worked, well enough that he even caught Chris hiding a smirk before shoving Yuuri away in insistence that he gather himself together.
The curtain fell as Chris and Yuuri walked up the starlit staircase to the final overture, their arms wrapped around each other’s backs. Behind them, the audience clapped in a loud and unfading pattern. They waited in their spot for a few moments more than necessary, just to make sure the curtain was fully down, before hurrying to the side in order to prepare to take their bows. Chris clapped a hand over Yuuri’s back as they went, giving him a congratulatory shake.
Waiting just off stage, his smile brighter than the stage lights, was Victor. He was clapping along with everyone else, but had eyes only for Yuuri. Now that Yuuri had gotten over his fear of kissing Victor on stage, he was rather seriously considering risking the same off it. Victor stretched out his arms, holding them open for Yuuri.
Without even thinking to hesitate, Yuuri rushed straight in.
“You did it!” Victor whispered to Yuuri as they waited for the applause to die down.
Yuuri smiled back, his hands on Victor’s shoulders. Not quite, not perfectly, not yet. They still had a week till opening night, but somehow, he might just be able to do it. All he had to do was have a bit of confidence. Victor’s gaze met his in the darkness of the stage wings, overjoyed and hopeful. Yuuri shifted onto the balls of his feet and seized the opportunity, stealing one firm and purposeful kiss. The result of that particular act was one stellar review: a delighted gasp straight from the mouth of Victor Nikiforov himself.
Maybe Yuuri really could do it, after all.