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“Don’t tell me what to do, Viktor!”
“Yurio! Listen to your papa!”
“For the last time, Viktor, you are not my father!” Yurio was flailing his arms in self-defense when the cell phone he cradled in his hands lit up all with an incoming call.
From the corner of his eye, Viktor noted the caller ID: the word DADDY lit up over a blurry photograph of a vaguely Asian-looking man. Immediately, he reached for the phone and plucked it easily from Yuri’s startled fingers.
“You say I’m not your father, but you have Yuuri in your phone as ‘Daddy’! Yurio! You are our son after all!”
Yuri’s green eyes gaped. “You don’t want to answer that.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to my precious katsudon?” Viktor said. He picked up the call. “Hello, darling!” he purred into the phone.
“Uh. Is this... Viktor?”
The person on the other line was most certainly not Viktor’s Yuuri. It was not anyone’s Yuuri. It was one Otabek Altin, Kazakh figure skater, the dark horse competitor who had charmed Yuri into friendship several years ago in Madrid, and had charmed him once again into accepting Otabek as his boyfriend.
Viktor’is mouth went immediately dry and dumb. He cleared his throat, then spoke a single word. “Yeeees.” He drew the word out for a number of seconds, short circuiting.
“Um, Viktor? Are you doing OK?” Otabek sounded confused.
Viktor made an indistinct affirmative sound somewhere in his throat.
“Oh well. Can I talk to Yuri then? Is he around?”
Viktor turned to his right, where Yuri’s mouth hung slack and mortified. He was blushing the darkest shade of red Viktor had ever seen Yuri turn in his entire life, and he was including the time Yuri had gotten sunburnt (doing something ridiculous) in that. He wordlessly handed the phone to Yuri, who snapped his mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth before racing to his room and slamming the door shut behind him so hard the picture in the hallway shook in their frames.
Viktor was horrified.
Poor Yurio had never had a real father figure. Sure, he’d had his grandfather and Yakov, but they were more... grandfatherly figures than anything truly paternal. Every growing boy needed a dad to look up to, and for the past fifteen years, Viktor had provided Yuri Plisetsky with the best example of fatherly love he had ever known in his life.
And of course, Viktor had corrupted him utterly. What other explanation could there be?
One thing was for sure. He would need some advice.
Viktor reached for his phone and began scrolling through his contacts.
“Viktor! Mon amour!”
“Chris! I need you right now!” Viktor couldn’t help the panicked pitch of his voice.
“What’s wrong, mon chou?”
Viktor hesitated a moment before letting the words out in a rush. “Do you know that Yurio calls Otabek ‘Daddy’?”
A peal of laughter rang in Viktor’s ear.
“Chris!”
“Vitya, what is the problem here?”
“I’m Yurio’s father! I’ve failed him!”
Chris snorted. “Why would you say such a thing? It’s rather the opposite, non?”
Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose. He was starting to get a headache.
“Look at it this way. You and Yuuri, as father figures, set such a good example of a healthy romantic relationship that it’s like, a fetish for him now or something.”
Viktor let out a long-suffering sigh. “Chris. You are not helping. Actually, you’ve made it worse.” He did not wait for Chris to start laughing again before hanging up.
“Emil, listen. Yurio and his boyfriend--”
“Oh yeah, man, that skater from like, Kyrgyzstan or like, Kazakhstan, or whereverstan. What’s his name again...? Becks something?”
“Otabek Altin,” Viktor supplied.
“Yeah, what about him again?”
“Well, he is Yurio’s boyfriend.”
“And?... What about that, man?”
Viktor was quickly losing patience. He harrumphed before answering Emil’s question. “Otabek lets Yurio call him Daddy.”
“And, like? What’s the problem again...?” Emil repeated.
“Yurio calls his boyfriend ‘daddy’, Emil! That is the problem!”
Emil took a deep, long breath, then exhaled before speaking. “Whatever is not yours, just like, let go of it, man. It’s for like, your long-term benefit, or happiness, or something.”
Everything Emil said was always so incredibly vague, Viktor never had any idea what the hell he meant. While outwardly Viktor thanked Emil for his help, inwardly Viktor was no closer to a solution.
Viktor hated this part. Every time he called JJ, he had to spend the first ten minutes listening to JJ talk about himself and his girlfriend and his skating and his band before he could get a word in edgewise. Finally, JJ paused his stream of words to take a breath, and Viktor took the opportunity afforded by the silence to change the subject to something that Viktor wanted to talk about: “Hey, JJ, you know Otabek pretty well, right?”
“Well, yeah. We trained together for a few years.”
“Did you have any idea that Yurio calls him ‘Daddy’?”
For the first time in his entire life, JJ was perfectly silent.
“I hope you’re doing better than I am.”
“Actually, Georgi, I’m not. That’s why I’m calling.”
“The good end happily, and the bad end unhappily...”
Viktor quickly changed the subject. “Yurio’s been calling Otabek his daddy.”
“Ah, but the happiness of a man depends on the mastery, rather than the absence, of his passions, does it not?” Georgi asked. It seemed he was quoting something, although Viktor was pretty sure the original sounded a lot less sarcastic.
“Georgi, I’m the closest thing to a father Yurio has ever had! How do I fix this?”
“Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away all pain.”
“Georgi--”
“And sleep, those little slices of death--”
Why was everyone Viktor knew completely useless in a time of crisis? He didn’t even bother to say goodbye before hanging up on a droning Georgi.
“How did you get my number?”
“Seung Gil, you have to help me....”
An impatient huff sounded on the other end of the line. Viktor took it as permission to continue.
“Yurio and Otabek have a daddy kink, and as Yurio’s father I’m very concerned--”
“Why are you telling me this?” A moment later, Viktor heard the line go dead.
“Mila, you’ve known Yurio almost as long as I have.”
“Yeah...?” In the background, Viktor heard someone murmuring.
“Hi Viktor!” the voice called into the phone, clearly enough for Viktor to identify
Viktor greeted Sarah back perfunctorily before getting back into the conversation. “Mila, Sarah... Did you two know that he calls Otabek his daddy?”
Mila cackled into the phone until she began hyperventilating. Whoever had been mumbling over the phone earlier must have thumped her back, because Viktor heard several loud thwacks before Mila was able to say anything.
“Wait, you didn’t know that?” She was hiccuping between words, as though still trying to stifle laughter.
Viktor responded slowly. “Nooo...”
Sarah’s muffled voice in the background said “Know what?” and Mila casually responded, “About Yurio’s daddy thing.” The muffled female voices were replaced by muffled female laughter.
Viktor couldn’t help himself, he cringed. This was a serious matter; he did not understand why everyone kept laughing at him.
Mila sighed. “How did you not know this about Yurio, Viktor?”
“How do you know this about Yurio, Mila?”
She snorted. “He’s always been like that.”
“What do you mean, ‘always’?”
“Let me give you a hint, Viktor: when Yurio said he was into bears, he didn’t mean like, National Geographic.”
Viktor didn’t even have to hang up on them. His phone slipped from his shocked hands and dropped the call immediately.
“I’ve ruined him Phichit! And no one is taking this seriously!”
“Hey, Viktor, c’mon... Don’t cry on me now....” Phichit sighed, and Viktor only sobbed harder. Why was everyone sighing at him like that? “It’s not like you did anything wrong, or made him that way--”
“That’s not what Chris said!” Viktor wailed.
“What did Chris say, then?”
Viktor sniffled. “He said that... I set an example for Yurio... with my relationship with Yuuri.... and now Yurio has a fetish...”
Phichit spoke slowly and deliberately. “Viktor. You know Chris was just messing with you, right? It’s not like, a bad thing? It’s just, like, a thing that a lot of couples do.... And as long as they’re taking care of each other, and being safe, and everything is consensual, it’s all good, isn’t it?”
“But Phichit! Yurio is so young!”
“But look. I understand that you’re concerned. The kind of stuff they’re doing can get really... Intense. So it’s natural to want to talk to them, and make sure that they’re being safe, sane, and consensual...”
Viktor sniffled, and wiped his eyes. “You think I should... talk... to Yurio and Otabek?”
Phichit hummed. “If you feel like you need to, Viktor.”
One thing was for sure: Viktor was going to have to stage an Intervention.
“I didn’t know we were having Yurio and Otabek over for dinner tonight,” Yuuri said, rummaging in the fridge to see what was inside. “It’s been awhile since we went shopping... I don’t know what to make...”
Viktor wrapped his husband up into a tight embrace. “Now, Yuuri, I trust you to make something special for him. It’s important that Yurio knows we love him very much.”
“Of course he knows that, Vitya. I don’t understand why we have to make such a big deal of it tonight... His birthday’s not until next month...” Yuuri’s brow was knit in consideration. “You don’t think he and Otabek are getting married, are they? Aren’t they kind of young for that?” He looked a bit apprehensive as he removed eggs, some lemons, and a package of chicken cutlets from the fridge.
“No, no, nothing like that, darling,” Viktor soothed. “Yurio’s just growing up, and he needs us very much right now.”
The furrow in Yuri’s brow deepened. “If you say so, Viktor." He looked more apprehensive than ever, but before Yuuri could ask any more questions, Viktor started trying to help him with dinner. Unfortunately, once Viktor got it into his head to help Yuuri in the kitchen, it mean he had pay attention to keep Viktor from burning the chicken or adding too much lemon juice to the sauce, and Yuri’s reservations about the nature of tonight’s dinner were forgotten.
Yuri and Otabek arrived just as Yuuri was deglazing the pan. Viktor poured everyone a glass of wine from the opened bottle, then finished setting the table, making sure to light candles for additional ambiance.
Finally, everyone was at the table, and Viktor proposed a toast to Yurio’s health. The four of them clinked glasses as he spoke: “Now, Yurio, your papa and I are here today because we love you very much,” Viktor began. “We’re know you’ve been growing up, and you’ve been doing some experimenting--”
Yurio spit out his drink. Yuuri kept shifting his focus between Yurio and Viktor as he bit his lip in concentration. Otabek was... doing the thing he always did with his face, and staring.
“--and as the father figures in your life, Yuuri and I are very worried about you. And that’s the reason why we’re holding you an intervention--”
“Yurio! Are you on drugs?” Yuuri sat straight up, panicked. “Oh my God, I knew I shouldn’t have served wine with dinner!” His eyes widened. “Shit, there’s wine in the pasta! Don’t eat it!” He leaned across the table to grab Yurio’s plate, but Yurio held on to his food and snarled Katsuki into submission until he sank back down into his own chair with his head down.
“No, I’m not on drugs! Are you guys delusional? I get random piss tests all the time, you idiots.” Yuri glared and bared his teeth.
Otabek stared, impassive as ever. Viktor was beginning to wonder if the man ever blinked.
Viktor moved his chair closer to his husband’s, and took Yuuri’s hands into his own as he spoke. “This isn’t about drugs, Yurio. This is about--”
Yuri turned as red as he had that morning. “Don’t say anything,” he hissed, but Viktor ignored him.
“This is about your daddy fetish, Yurio,” he continued.
Next to him, Yuuri let out an astonished gasp. Yuri let out a long and tortured groan. Otabek continued to not blink. He made no sound at all.
“I know I haven’t always been a good example for you, Yurio, but I’ve done my best. I just want to know what I did to make you this way--so that we can help fix you--”
“You idiot! Why would I ever have a daddy kink for you?” Yuri’s voice dripped with derision and he stomped his foot, somehow managing to look like the bratty kid he’d been when Viktor had first met him. Otabek immediately soothed him with a hand on his bicep and a murmured word, gestures that did not escape Viktor’s notice.
“But...” Viktor’s mouth gaped open in astonishment. Where else would Yuri have learned such things? Viktor was supposed to have set an example for Yuri. He had tried his best to be a good father and be honest with Yuri about how sex between two men worked... but had he been too honest...? Was that why...?
Yuri’s eyeballs bulged with indignation. “Oh my God! How vain can you be?” He struck himself in the forehead a few times as though trying to make himself stupid enough to understand Viktor’s idiocy. After the third strike, Otabek grabbed Yuri’s hand and moved it to his lap with a soft yet stern no; surprisingly, Yuri obeyed.
“You mean... I didn’t... It’s not my fault--” Viktor’s thoughts were racing too quickly for him to put together a coherent sentence.
“It’s all Katsuki’s fault!” Yuri exploded. “ Why would I ever have had a crush on you when he was around all the time?”
Yuuri Katsuki most emphatically did not drink his entire glass of wine in one embarrassed gulp. He also most emphatically did not also drink Viktor’s wine glass immediately afterward.
Viktor’s feelings were actually quite hurt. He had taken Yurio under his wing from a very young age, offering him all the knowledge and guidance and care that one would expect from a paternal role model. He’d raised Yurio from bratty child to bratty teenager to bratty young adult. And this was how his adopted son repaid him for all his sacrifices over the years: not only had Yurio rejected everything Viktor ever tried to teach him, he had also evidently at one time had a crush on Viktor’s husband--“But--you don’t love me!”--the kind of crush unique to the innocent and impressionable, the kind of crush one never really got over, the crush that had perverted Yurio utterly... “Why my Yuuri?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s Eros, and you’re awful.” Yuri swept an appreciative eye over Katsuki, who cocked his head in his signature half-shy, half-flirtatious smile, gloating a little bit over the praise.
Otabek, stoic as ever, God damn him, nodded several times in agreement without blinking once.
Viktor burst into tears.
“Get off me, babe. I’m never letting you touch me with your filthy hands ever again.” Viktor rolled away from Yuuri’s amorous attentions and sighed melodramatically into his pillow.
“When have I ever needed my hands to get you off, darling?” Yuri’s face nestled against Viktor’s cheek, chin nudging the apple of Viktor’s throat. Viktor swatted him away, and Yuri huffed in disappointment.
“You broke Yurio,” Viktor moaned, pushing Yuuri away.
“Yurio is not broken. ” Yuuri sat up in bed. He shook Viktor gently, and Viktor rolled out of the pillow to face his husband. “Listen to me, Viktor. Yurio is an adult. Whatever he and Otabek do, it’s their business, not ours. Just like whatever we do in our bed is only for us.” Yuuri gathered a grumbling Viktor in his arms, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He grinned and asked “Can we not argue about this anymore, and move onto more enjoyable things?”
Despite himself, Viktor gave in to him. Yuuri was too irresistible to stay mad with for very long, after all.
“C’mere, baby.” Yuuri’s voice dropped an octave, curling sensuously into Viktor’s ear. “You’ve had a rough day. Let me take care of you.”
Viktor put his arms around his husband’s neck then climbed into his lap with a shivering sigh of relief. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good boy.”