Chapter Text
Yuuri was excited. It’s the first time in two years that a male Omega, the future heir of the Nikiforov Bratva no less, is being assigned under his care. Or service, whatever. It didn’t matter as long as it was a fellow male, a member of a powerful mafia, maybe not an Alpha but evidently no less than one in any field, who was going to be his client. For a year’s subscription. His work partner, a profuse hacker and a fellow Alpha, Phichit, was an ideal companion and confidant, but he and Phichit worked in different parts of the city, though under the one and only Katsuki Yakuza, and they barely met except through facetimes or formal get-togethers. So naturally Yuuri, the second-in-command, heir and son of the Oyabun of the Katsuki Yakuza, and a most unparalleled assassin in Japan at least, was excited to have a fellow assassin as his resident “patient” and all-time companion, even if only for a year.
It was almost time for the client to arrive. Yuuri ran his hands through his slicked back hair and fixed his glasses for the last time. It was the soft hearted (oh, the irony) perfect gentleman impression that he made upon his past clients, that made them comfortable and easy to handle. Satisfied that his appearance was good enough to impress the client and his company the way he wanted, Yuuri sat back in his chair and waited. A year’s subscription. Long work. Client demands undivided time and effort. At least the splendid pay will make up for the parallel offers he would’ve missed in that year. The high pay and perfectly lawful and honest aspect of his job is one of the few factors that keeps Yuuri attached to it. When he and Phichit saw these openings for ‘Omega Counsellors’ and saw that their ample degrees in Biology and Psychology were more than enough to fulfil the qualification requirements, they just looked at each other, nodded and said “Aight, I’m in.” The next evening they walked out of a training institute with forms to fill, asking themselves just how bad can it get after all. The next morning they walked into the institute with confident faces and full knowledge of old school Omega counselling, gathered from the scarce info available on websites and from their families. The next 3 months was full of lots of unpleasant training and equally unpleasant new knowledge and at the end of the course they did not have enough life left in them to even smile at the camera when they graduated as the only Alpha professional “Omega Counsellors” in that year’s batch.
Three knocks on the closed office door roused Yuuri from the disgusting reconnaissance of his training course. Yuuri cleared his throat.
“Come in”, he said in a calm voice. But his excitement and habitual nervousness kept him from hiding a slight smile and an even slighter tinge of pink that coloured his cheeks. His assistant and another close friend and confidant, Yuuko Nishigori, walked in and handed him a file with the new client’s details and said with a smile.
“They’re in the elevator. You’re excited huh?” Yuuri’s smile widened as he stood and picked the file from the table. Neat, elegant black, nothing short of an expensive leather case, the Bratva’s crest emblazoned on the top right corner, the elaborate but crisp signature of the Pakhan and Yuuri’s client Viktor Nikiforov’s foster father, Yakov Feltsman.
“Interested, if nothing else”, Yuuri smirked, strolling around the table while glancing at the apparent copy of a job resume with bland particulars of his client’s age, height, birth date, educational and co-curricular qualifications. There was no photo either. That was okay though. Yuuri was accustomed to dealing with random strangers who sometimes even lacked the courtesy to hand in the most basic details before calling. Plus he wasn’t averse to making exceptions in this client’s case. He seemed “interesting”, after all. In comparison to the unparalleled internal awkwardness and constant caution he had to maintain in case of the several past female clients in the past two years, this assignment was a welcome relief. At least it seemed so, presently.
A loud ping resounded in the corridor and through the open door of the office, followed by a mechanical swish and the opening of the elevator doors at the other end of the corridor. Yuuri and Yuuko turned to see a group of black clad bodyguards approaching the office. At the entrance, the two bodyguards in the lead, one male, blonde with an undercut, suave and confident, and the other, a female, red tressed and amiable looking with a distinct touch of haughtiness and strength, parted to let through none other than the Pakhan himself, and a blonde teenager with shoulder length hair and a very annoyed expression, his two emerald eyes glaring murder at Yuuri, who very effortlessly ignored him.
“Ah, the Pakhan himself. Privet, sir. It’s an honour to finally meet you.” Yuuri said smoothly, with a touch of respect, and extended a hand to the Pakhan to shake after the customary bowing.
“Privet, Mr. Katsuki”, the old, strong Alpha said with a gruff voice, but a polite manner and a soft expression. He shook Yuuri’s extended hand after slightly returning the elaborate bow with which Yuuri had greeted him.
“Please take a seat, sir,” Yuuri said as he walked to his own chair and sat, waving Feltsman and the blonde boy to the clients’ chairs after Yuuko bowed and left. “Now, sir, about the assignment, or should I say, business.”
“Of course,” Feltsman grunted, a slight smile lighting his gruff features as he was satisfied with the suavity and politeness of his future business partner. “You must be aware, sir, that your assignment is a male Omega, my heir, and thus a very important issue to both my organisation and your father’s, since we’re business partners.”
“Yes sir,” Yuuri smiled politely again, “and is this, sir, if I may ask,” he said, gesturing towards the blonde teen, “my client?”
Feltsman shook his head. “No, sir. This is Yuri Plisetsky, my second and youngest foster son. You may also address him as Yura. And as much as I’d like to hand him over to your care as well, I believe that his mental condition is very directly associated with his elder brother’s, and if you could treat Viktor well enough, I trust that Yura will make much development in his presently distasteful mentality.”
“Mental health, sir? I trust that my client is not—” Yuuri paused, once more eluding the death glares Yura kept shooting at him every now and then. “I trust that he is not... not demented?”
Feltsman frowned, closed his eyes and shook his head again. “I trust that I might leave that to your decision, though I’m perfectly sure that his outrageous behaviour is due to frustration and confusion rather than madness. Viktor is otherwise perfectly fine, and I would rather that you met him under more palatable circumstances, if it were not for the fact that he, or rather his pride, has been seriously damaged with his late presentation, and the fact that he has raised himself to believe and based his every action on the fact that he would turn out an Alpha. He is seriously hurt, sir, he completely and utterly refuses to accept himself, and thus rises the occasion of my bringing him here.”
Yuuri listened silently to this long and rather confusing narrative. One thing was for sure, that his client, whoever or whatever he was, was very dear to the Pakhan.
“I trust that my services will be of acknowledgeable use to your son, sir. Now,” Yuuri paused for a moment, contemplating what he was going to face, then suddenly left himself up to the thought that it was only for a year, whatever it was, “may I see my client, sir?”
Yakov nodded, then silently turned round to the blonde-with-undercut guy and gestured to him. The man nodded and walked off, entering the elevator and descending to bring back the person in question. Minutes later he emerged back from it with another guard with black hair and undercut and very stern features. They held between them, apparently by some force, a tall male omega, with long platinum hair that cascaded down his shoulder to his waist. His head was lowered grudgingly, his face hidden behind the curtain of his hair, and his physique was strong but still contained the Omega refinement which made him easy to pass as a female if it were not for the broad shoulders and the formal suit which he wore.
The two bodyguards deposited him into the chair which Yura vacated and the black haired guard left, accompanying a very annoyed Yura to one of the luxurious cars of the Bratva which were parked in the garage after Yura muttered something about “not interested”, “useless” and “pig” to Feltsman, while the blonde guy reoccupied his place beside the red haired lady.
Yuuri observed the new person silently from behind his glasses. So this was his future business partner... interesting. After satisfying himself with the physical appearance of his client, Yuuri stood up and extended his hand over the table to the Omega with a bright smile.
“Privet, Viktor. I’m your counsellor for this year, and of course a friend, if you wish.”
A very defiant but beautiful face looked up at Yuuri from the cascade of platinum. Yuuri’s eyes widened at the sheer beauty of the face. Clear, bright blue eyes, as cold and deep as the northern ocean, silver eyebrows knitted low over the cold eyes and thick eyelashes, straight, pretty nose, rosy, thin but soft lips, perfectly angled jaw, pale, perfect skin with a slight flush high on the cheeks and on the tip of his nose. Everything about the face was perfect, pretty, beautiful. And yet the first words he spat with hatred twisting his features and making his eyes seem like two hard glowing blue gems, made Yuuri widen his eyes yet again and retrieve his outstretched hand.
“Khuy tebe.” Fuck you.
Yuuri stood baffled for a moment with wide eyes and slightly opened mouth. Then his face twisted into an amused smirk. He narrowed his eyes slightly. Beautiful features, murderous speech. Yup, his new client was most definitely interesting.