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There were several unspoken rules in the Yubileyny Sports Palace. Yakov’s word was law, so his figure skaters made it a point to follow every single one. Everyone stays out of each other’s lockers. Skates are cleaned and put away properly at the end of each practice. Do not engage with the hockey players.
The rivalry between the figure skaters and the hockey players stretched back farther than anyone could remember, including Yakov and Lilia. All anyone knew was that a hockey player and a figure skater had thrown punches that ended in two pairs of trashed skates and fourteen stitches. The coaches made it a point from then on to make sure the practices never overlapped on the official schedule. Nobody wanted a repeat of that performance.
Yuuri’s first day on the rink, the Russian skaters, Mila and Yurio specifically, made it clear to that figure skating practice and hockey practice did not coincide and that he should keep as close to them or to Victor as possible if he happened upon anyone from the hockey team.
Yuuri was familiar with this kind of arrangement, of course, having shared a rink with the hockey team while he was in college in America. The players were always loud and brash, but after getting to know them, Yuuri had found that he liked watching them skate and that their shouts were encouraging rather than aggressive. They and a few of the figure skaters had even arranged a sort of exhibition between the groups, part scrimmage and part rehearsal to get in the competition headspace at the beginning of each season. Yuuri was sure the hockey players here would be just as kind, but he stayed away nonetheless. That is, until the day he met Pietro.
It had been a normal practice day. Victor had practice with Yakov in the morning while Yuuri had ballet rehearsal. After a quick lunch at a nearby cafe that they both liked, Yuuri had practice with Victor. Victor had joined Yuuri on the ice today to work on choreography and step sequences and both men, though feeling the familiar aches in their feet and legs, were feeling pleased with their work.
“You were stunning today, Yuuri. We’re really on our way to something special this season.” Victor casually put his arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulled him close for a small kiss on the cheek.
Yuuri instinctively lifted his cheek to accept it, but his eyes remained facing forward, his mind on the choreography they had built over the course of the afternoon.
“I don’t know, I feel like the transitions could have been smoother. We’ve been working on this part for weeks and it’s just not feeling like when I see you do it.”
“Well, my love, we can always change it so it feels more like you. It’s your program, so all you have to do is ask.”
Yuuri made a face at Victor. It was secretly one of VIctor’s favorites - the one that said “I can’t believe this is the one I have chosen to love,” rather than “this is the love of my life.”
Victor looked shocked for a moment and then smiled fondly. “I forget how competitive you can be at this stage. Forget I said it! We’ll keep working on it and see if it comes any easier in the next few days.”
Yuuri’s face relaxed into a pleased smile. “Yes, we will.”
As they reached the main exit, Victor took advantage of the doorway to crowd Yuuri enough that he could put another quick kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri, sensing Victor’s plan, turned his head quickly to instead catch Victor’s lips with his own.
At the moment their lips met, they both broke into giggles. A blond man with broad shoulders and an impressive beard passed them in the doorway wearing an exasperated expression. He paused, looked them both up and down and said clearly for them both to hear, “That’s right, ladies, get lost so the real men can take the ice.”
Victor had heard insults like this more times than he could count, and though they still hurt, he had gotten better at deflecting over the course of his career. Figure skating was a sport, and Victor knew it, so why get flustered and angry just because someone didn’t understand the athleticism to it? Furthermore, his being gay wasn’t even the most interesting thing about him, so why get hung up on the fact that the person he loved more than anything happened to be a man?
Victor just put on his best press smile, tossed an “Okay, Pietro!” over his shoulder and continued outside, but Yuuri stopped in his tracks. Victor only made a couple more steps before he stopped too, when he realized that his arm still around Yuuri’s waist wasn’t moving forward. Victor read Yuuri’s face and was filled with confusion then fear.
Yuuri didn’t get angry often. It just wasn’t his way. He was more likely to apologize or shut down rather than complain or lash out unless he couldn’t find another way to get his point across. When Yuuri did get angry, it was usually about one of three things:
He was locked in an intense video battle and needed to vent.
He heard someone say something about how figure skating wasn’t a sport.
Someone said something hurtful about Victor.
This Pietro had just insulted two of Yuuri’s greatest loves. Victor knew this confrontation was gonna be ugly and quickly texted both MIla and Yurio for backup.
“What did you just say to us?”
“I said you homos need to get off the ice so the real men can get started with practice.”
Yuuri’s usually warm and lively eyes looked dead in their sockets, the way they looked when he was formulating a new step sequence or figuring out how to land a jump. Victor, in his infinite wisdom, stayed behind his fiance and out of the line of fire to let this play out.
“You know, I heard hockey players had no brains, but you must have taken more hits than your teammates because I could never imagine someone of any intelligence saying something so stupid about what we do.”
Raucous laughter came from behind Pietro. Mila and Yuri had made the decision to record Yuuri’s encounter, should it end badly and he be blamed for instigating anything. Yuuri continued over their noise.
“Look, I’ve shared the ice with enough skaters and hockey players to know which team is stronger. I’ve even played a few hockey games on a real team, so I know how hard you guys work. I respect it, just like you should respect what we do. Now if you want to be sour and hang onto your outdated and, frankly, offensive opinions, you go ahead. But keep your ignorance to yourself so we can all focus on our upcoming competitions.”
Victor was equal parts turned on and afraid.
The rage was evident on Pietro’s face. He dropped his heavy equipment bag and stick and stepped up to Yuuri, their faces now just inches apart.
“Tough words for a lost little ice dancer.”
Yuuri crossed his arms and Victor knew that the time to diffuse the situation was long gone. Yuuri was tired, hungry and most likely emotionally spent. He had no patience for ignorance or unkind words when he was in this state. Victor just had to stand back and let his fiance work this out on his own.
“Figure skater. We are figure skaters. Get it right. We get more bruises and injuries catching more air than you’ve ever dreamed of. We put our blood, sweat and tears into every performance. We put our bodies under more stress in one day than you’ve probably put yours in your entire career. We are athletes. If you want, we can even demonstrate a thing or two if that’s what it takes.”
Victor glanced up from the restaurant menu on his phone and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yuuri, please don’t make the hockey players cry. Again.”
“You want to settle this on the ice, you fairy? I can take you in any game!”
Yuuri ran a hand through his sweaty hair, as if he knew this was coming. He sighed at the blond currently encroaching on his personal space. Someone had to tell this guy to pop a mint before he picked a fight.
“Fine. Vitya, darling, can we book some private ice time tomorrow so I can kick this guys ass?”
“I can certainly arrange it with Yakov.” Victor pulled out his phone and pulled up the official rink schedule to put in a request. “Does 10 a.m. work for everyone?”
Yuuri turned back to Pietro. “10 a.m. tomorrow morning. One game. You and me. You can bring whomever you like to watch. If I win, you don’t get to say anything about the figure skaters for as long as you skate here.”
“And when I win?”
“IF you win, Victor and I will buy you and your entire team dinner. Wherever you want.”
Pietro grinned evilly and stuck out his hand. “You have a deal.”
Yuuri shook his hand quickly and then grabbed Victor by the arm to make their way out of the rink. Mila and Yurio had made their way back to the bleachers to pack their own things and spread the word about tomorrow’s game.
“My love,” Victor started tentatively, “not to be rude because you know I have all confidence in you, but when was the last time you played hockey? Pietro plays internationally. I worry my bank account is going to hurt tomorrow.”
“Vitya, as my fiance, please trust me. Phichit and I used to play together all the time. I still talk to a few of the hockey players who practiced with us in Michigan. It’ll be fine. And quiet once I crush that guy.”
Victor gave Yuuri a once-over and, seeing the competitive fire in the way Yuuri held himself, resolved to support him rather than talk him out of it. Yuuri was small compared to the hockey players, but he could move quickly and had a competitive streak that made him deadly. Pietro had no idea what he had done.
***********************************
The next morning, Yuuri and Victor walked into the rink in their practice gear, completely unaware of the stir they had made.
The whole of the boards was surrounded by figure skaters and hockey players alike, plus some of the younger skaters yet to make their debuts. One of the hockey players whom Yuuri knew quite well thanks to late night skate sessions - Andre - met him on the bleachers with an extra stick and a helmet. Yuuri would be damned if he wasn't going to do this safely.
After lacing up his skates, he put the loaner helmet on his head with ease, popping the mouth guard over his teeth, and gripping the borrowed stick firmly before lifting it and giving it a few practice swings. It was light enough for his frame but could still be used aggressively.
Pietro walked in a few minutes later, a cocky grin on his face after seeing the audience. He plopped down on the bleachers himself and pulled out his own skates
“You ready for defeat, dancer?”
“You ready to eat your words, caveman?”
Titters made their way through the crowd as Pietro grabbed his own helmet and stick.
Victor was going to be their referee this morning. As a coach, he had the authority and was responsible for the rink time. He told both Yuuri and PIetro such and followed up with a few ground rules.
“We are going to be civilized, gentlemen. In the interest of fairness, we’ve agreed to no toe-picks. This game will be over by noon. Nobody will come out more injured than they would get during a normal practice. If you make contact, I stop this game and the bet is off. First one to ten goals wins.”
VIctor led the competitors over to the boards where all three men removed their skate guards and stepped onto the fresh ice. The crowd applauded, some people pulling out their phones to take video, some sipping coffee and taking bets on who would win.
Yuuri faced Pietro in the middle of the ice, fury in his eyes. Just looking at the smug bastard had him ready to burn the rink down to make his point, but he’d settle for a little friendly victory.
Victor announced in a clear voice that rang through the complex, “Shake hands. The game starts when the puck drops.” He pulled a puck out of the pocket of his track pants and waited while Yuuri and Pietro firmly grasped hands before leaning into a starting position.
The puck dropped.
Pietro snatched it quickly and was headed towards the goal on Yuuri’s end, making quick work of his first goal.
“That’s how you do it, ladies!” he yelled out while the spectators applauded, quite unsure of what just happened.
Yuuri fixed him with a level stare, as if something just clicked for the young figure skater’s mind. Pietro was a snake, he struck quickly, which was good for Yuuri. In his experience, those who strike quickly have little stamina for longer games. Yuuri squashed a small smile before heading back to where Victor stood with another puck. He leaned in with his stick.
“Again.”
Victor dropped the puck and Yuuri made no move to take it. Instead, he made a fast loop around the rink and passed in front of his net just as PIetro made the move to shoot. The hockey player faltered and made his own loop, Yuuri following him just a few steps behind.
Pietro might be boorish, but he wasn’t stupid. In only five minutes on the ice, the figure skater had his method figured out. Pietro was fast, but his coach was constantly on his case to build his stamina. As hard as he trained, he wasn’t going to be any match for the Japanese man.
Yuuri wouldn’t yield. He made no effort to take the puck but he also didn’t give Pietro any chance to make a goal. It’s like he was everywhere. After the first hour, Pietro asked Victor for a time-out. The blond had only made one goal, but he was drenched in sweat from head to toe. When he took off his helmet for some water, he fixed his eyes on Yuuri.
Yuuri had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, but he looked pleased with himself. He skated a few slow laps around the rink, waving to the young skaters he recognized and nodding to his own rinkmates. He stopped when he got to Pietro at the other side of the rink.
“You okay? You look a little tired.”
“Fuck you.”
“Ouch. Such language. But then we both know how you are about saying hurtful things.”
Pietro’s response was labored. “Why aren’t you tired? You been working as hard as I have.”
“Harder, actually. I haven’t played hockey in about two years, so I’m enjoying myself. Brings back memories.”
“ I don’t wanna hear about your glory days. I wanna beat you.”
“Uh-huh. And how is that going? You need me to go easier on you?”
“I don’t need your mercy.”
Yuuri met Pietor’s eyes with an intense and serious gaze, his lip almost curled with disdain.
“Good. Because I don’t grant mercy to those who mess with my loves.”
Yuuri skated away, putting his helmet back on before grabbing his stick from the boards where he left it. Pietro took another quick drink, wiped his face with a towel given to him by an onlooker and made his way back to the middle of the ice.
Victor was waiting for them, an amused look on his face.
“Are we ready for round two, gentlemen?”
“Last chance to bow out.”
“I told you, fuck off.”
The puck dropped.
This time Yuuri was ready, he swung it away and skated after it, making a shot from right in front of Pietro’s empty net.
“One for me. Let’s go again.”
Yuuri made goal after goal in PIetro’s undefended net. Pietro was a mess trying to keep up with him. At one point Yuuri made a few laps around the rink, even putting his stick down to do a little jump. He would pick his stick back up and continue like nothing happened. The second half was over in 20 minutes. Yuuri made ten goals. Pietro had made one.
Victor called the game as soon as Yuuri’s last goal hit the net. “This game goes to Katsuki Yuuri!”
The crowd applauded the winner, a few skaters making a show of bowing as Yuuri took another lap around the rink. He took off his helmet and laughed at that, even raising his hand to wave regally at them before making his way off the ice. Pietro was waiting for him by their bags on the bleachers, unlacing his own skates and still breathing hard.
“Hey.”
Pietro looked up, clearly waiting for Yuuri to say something condescending.
“Thanks for the game. It was fun.” Yuuri stuck out his hand and Pietro only glanced at it before taking it.
“Yeah, you too, I guess.” He took a drink and looked over at Victor, who was still on the ice, expounding on his fiance’s ice hockey skills. “You learned to play in America?”
“Yeah. The hockey team and the figure skaters at my school had to share the rink, so we’d play games or teach each other tricks, just to loosen up and get ready for competition season. It was a good way to just get out of our heads, you know?”
Pietro grunted in acknowledgement.
“Victor and I talked last night, and we’d like to take you to dinner. As a thank you.”
Pietro turned his head sharply to look at Yuuri. The Japanese man was still looking at Victor, smiling fondly with love written across his face. Pietro had only been in love once, but he knew the look. He missed it sometimes.
“I guess dinner with a couple of figure skaters wouldn’t be so bad.”
The fact that Pietro had just referred to them as figure skaters wasn’t lost on either of them. He stood up, noticing for the first time that Yuuri’s head barely reached his own broad shoulder. Yuuri’s smile grew.
“Well, it won’t be anything fancy, but there’s a place the next block over that makes pretty decent sushi.”
“....I like sushi.”
Yuuri looked away from Victor to face Pietro.
“I’d like to start over, if we can. HI, my name is Yuuri Katsuki. I’m from Japan, but I went to school in the United States. I’m a figure skater, but I’m a big Red Wings fan.”
Pietro shook his head and smiled before responding.
“Nice to meet you, Yuuri Katsuki. My name is Pietro Ivanov. I don’t know anything about figure skating, but I am also a Red Wings fan.”
A groan came from the boards as Victor slipped on his skate guards. “If I have to hear one more time about the Red Wings, I am going to divorce you.”
“You can’t understand, Vitya. You haven’t lived it. You also can’t divorce someone who you aren’t married to yet”
Victor stuck out his tongue and made his way to the manager’s office to confer with the other coaches about the game. Yuuri and Pietro stood in comfortable silence before Yuuri broke it.
“I don’t expect us to be friends all of a sudden,” he started, “But I hope you can at least respect what we do.”
Pietro looked down at his sock feet and then back up at Yuuri.
“Show me what you can do then, Katsuki. I’ll be waiting to see you win something.”
From that day on, the hockey team changed. They may not be friendly with the figure skaters. That would have taken a miracle. However, seeing a small, shy Japanese figure skater take on one of their own in a game and win, certainly made them respect the sport.