Chapter Text
Yuuri was led into the banquet hall by his coach, Celestino, his head down and eyes burning from exhaustion. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, and all he wanted to do was go to bed and crawl under the covers until the darkness pulling behind his eyes took him. Why had Celestino taken him to the banquet, anyway? It wasn’t like he could look any of the skaters in the face after his humiliating failure on the ice, and no sponsor was going to want to talk to him. Even thinking about the failure he’d suffered made him want to cry, and his stomach rumbled angrily, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in nearly two days from nerves, only having a few snacks when his friend, Phichit, had basically forced him. He felt about as hungry as a lion who hadn’t eaten in six months, and yet the thought of actually eating at that moment was the most unappealing thing that he could think of.
“Alright, Yuuri, I’m going to get something from the snack table, do you want anything?” Celestino, bless him, seemed so concerned that Yuuri felt his heart throb painfully in his chest.
“I-I’m good, Ciao-Ciao, you go enjoy something to eat, I’m not really that hungry.” Yuuri said, trying to smile, although he was pretty sure it came out as more of a grimace. Celestino sighed before giving Yuuri a hug and a pat on the back before heading over to the snack bar. Yuuri took a deep breath before looking around, spotting a few people he knew, namely Christophe, and he eyed the other Yuri. Suddenly, his eyes fell on the form of his idol, the one who had been taking interviews while he cried in the bathroom and got chewed out by the Russian Yuri. Yuuri felt his world spin, watching Viktor Nikiforov talk with some very important-looking people.
I made a complete idiot out there on the ice, and Viktor was probably watching everything from backstage. It was bad enough luck that I had to go first both times! Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to dispel his thoughts, but he couldn’t. Opening his eyes again, he looked around for a possible exit, and his eyes landed on a large bottle of champagne. Of course! If I don’t want to think about tonight and all of the embarrassment that I’ve caused myself, I’ll get drunk!
Glancing around one last time, he made his way over to the drink bar and grabbed a champagne flute, filling it up to the near brim. Taking a deep breath, Yuuri chugged the drink like he was a man dying of thirst, grimacing at the taste. He wasn’t big on champagne, preferring sake of his homeland to the bitter taste of champagne, but he wasn’t in this for the taste. Thanking the heavens that Pichit wasn’t here to see this at the moment, he downed another flute, then another and another until there was suddenly fifteen flutes of champagne on the table in front of him, before he set down his sixteenth. He felt far, far more relaxed than he had about… maybe fifteen minutes ago? He wasn’t too sure. All Yuuri knew was that he was suddenly burning up, so he loosened his tie slightly, before turning around and spotting Christophe taking a sip of champagne, looking around idly.
“Heeeyyyyy, Chris!” Yuuri called, stumbling over to the older male and practically falling into his arms, hiccuping slightly. Chris caught him with a chuckle, and Yuuri drunkenly snuggled into his chest, trying to stop the room from spinning.
“Ah, Yuuri, how are you?” Chris asked, and Yuuri looked up at him with a silly giggle before shrugging, and had he been more sober, he would have noticed the worried look Chris gave him. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough.” Yuuri hiccuped, before tugging on his tie slightly. “H-hey, Chris, d’ya wanna have- have a dance off?” Yuuri saw Chris’ eyes light up and giggled again. “Y-your eyes are prettyyyyy… anyone ever tell you that?”
“Ah, yes I’ve been told, sweetheart.” Chris said, giving him a lopsided smile.
“I-I’m not a sweetheart, I’m a man.” Chris laughed heartily at this, throwing his head back. Yuuri continued, “You didn’t answer my question! Do you wanna have a dance off?”
“Hmm… That doesn't sound too bad, honestly. But why don't you ask the other Yuri?” Yuuri’s eyes widened, looking around and spotting the shorter Yuri. He felt a grin stretch across his face as he pulled away from Chris to stumble towards the Russian.
“Hey, Blondie! You wanna have a dance off?” Yuuri asked loudly, making others look at him. The blond Yuri turned to look at him as he loosened his necktie again.
“The hell? Are you drunk or something?” Yuuri shrugged with an easy grin, taking off his suit jacket.
“Does it matter? You're not scared or something, are you?” Yuuri saw Yuri bristle angrily before he heard the music go off, a feral look overtaking him as heard the first few notes, a dirty sort of song that he heard a lot of in Detroit. He sent a heated look at Yuri and the older Russian in the room, who had decided to come and see what the commotion was about. Yuuri started to dance, the sort of dancing you might see in a club, fast and dirty. Nothing like anything he would have attempted while sober, or even on the ice, where he felt the most confident in himself.
The entire room was enraptured, but the younger Yuri was pissed. He wondered why the pig was even showing his face after his abysmal performance on the ice. It wasn’t like he was any good at what he did. To think the pig thought that he could beat him at anything made him grimace. Yuri wondered why he had ever looked up to him, his step sequences weren’t even that great.
As soon as the older Yuuri stopped for a moment to take a breath, the younger one started to move, all angry lines and sharp corners. This went on for a good three songs until Chris finally stepped in and the grabbed the older Yuuri’s attention.
“Yuuri, it looks like you've been having fun with our young friend here. But maybe it's time for you and I have some more adult fun.” Chris said as he gestured toward the stripper pole that had suddenly appeared. “It might be a little past Yuri's bedtime after all.”
“I don't have a bedtime, you ass!” Yuri yelled at the older man. But to his better judgement, he decided it would be a good time for him to leave before anything got too graphic.
“Chris, are you sure that such a flimsy pole can handle both of us?” Yuuri asked, looking delighted at the prospect of pole dancing in a room full of his peers and potential sponsors. Which he would never do if he was not drunk. It was much too embarrassing after all.
Yuuri--with all the intensity and sensuality expected of a professional ice skater--grabbed a hold of the pole and swung . Chris laughed and joined him on the pole, his boyfriend shaking his head in the background. At some point, Yuuri had gotten hold of another bottle of champagne, and the two skaters took turns using it as both a prop and drinking from it.
This went on for a while, the two skaters taking turns on the pole as well as sharing it. Many of the people in the room wondered how the pole didn’t break with the weight of two athletes. Though it did creak ominously at one point. This went on until Yuuri lost interest in the pole when a flash of silver hair caught his attention.
He grabbed his clothes and haphazardly put them back on before going up to the man who he’d looked up to for so long who seemed to be really enjoying himself. Yuuri simply held out his hand in a sort of half challenge, half question, and Viktor took it with a surprised smile. Yuuri pulled him close and the song turned into a waltz, making Yuuri grin excitedly. He spun around with him before flinging him away and giving Viktor a sultry look. They both bowed to each other, mirroring the other’s moves, and Yuuri honestly hadn’t had so much fun in a very long time. He grabbed Viktor yet again and pulled him into many different dance moves, ending with him dipping Viktor, smiling brightly at him and Viktor looking up at him with the biggest smile on his face and stars in his eyes. Eventually, he ended up pressed up against Viktor, telling him about how his family had a hot springs resort in his hometown.
“Viiiiiiiktor!!!” The drunken man yelled while latching onto the taller man like an octopus, “Viktor, you are amazing. Pleeeease be my coach”
“YUURI!!!” A concerned voice shouted across the room, Phichit standing in the doorway.
Phichit closed the door to the hotel room that he was sharing with Yuuri while they were in Sochi. He had finally finished posting all of the pictures that he took today, minus the ones of Yuuri, correctly thinking that his best friend wouldn’t appreciate pics of his failure being all over Instagram. But there was always next season, and next season they would both be in the Grand Prix Final. Which means Phichit would be able to actually be there on the ice with Yuuri so he could help with any panic attacks. Phichit sighed, what happened had less to do with his friend’s anxiety and more to do with grief, that he himself could understand. What would happen if one of the hamster trio passed away in the middle of a competition? Phichit didn’t think he would have been able to handle that.
As Phichit walked down the hallway, he heard the familiar voice of his coach and and an unfamiliar voice of a woman. He turned towards the elevator and saw Ciao-Ciao with a pretty dark-skinned woman making out against the wall. Phichit being Phichit snapped a photo and uploaded it. Then, he decided to cockblock Ciao-Ciao.
“Hey Ciao-Ciao, where’s Yuuri?” Phichit asked. Celestino jumped a foot in the air and the woman let out a high pitched squeak. Celestino turned around so fast that he blurred.
“Phichit?! I thought you were at the banquet already!” Celestino said, looking guilty while attempting to hide the woman from sight. Pichit noticed the slight slur in his words and narrowed his eyes. So Celestino had gotten drunk, huh? Wait… could that mean…?
“No, I was just heading there though. Is Yuuri still there?”
“He was about to have a dance off with the Russian Yuri just as Aina and I were leaving.” Celestino said nervously, backing away slowly. “He seemed to be having a good time and I thought it would be good for him.”
“What?” Phichit said, deadpan and glaring at the one person who he had expected to want to take care of Yuuri more than he did after today. He got on one of the elevators and hit the button to go to the floor of the banquet hall. He ran in a full sprint towards the banquet, only slowing once he heard the music and Yuuri shouting, “VIKTOR!” What had his friend been up to?
Phichit slid into the room to the sight of his best friend half naked and hanging off of the Viktor Nikiforov. Begging him to be his coach. This was why Yuuri was not allowed to drink in public.
His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him, noticing several articles of clothing strewn about the room and people were looking on in various stages of shock or disgust, and the silver haired male was looking at Yuuri with something that almost looked akin to awe. Quickly, he grabbed several of the clothing items before snatching Yuuri away from Viktor, giving the older male a glare hot enough to cut through solid steel. He fussed over Yuuri, trying to make him put on his suit coat, but he just babbled at Phichit, saying how Viktor was going to be his coach since he’d won the dance off, and Phichit sighed, looking at Yuuri sadly.
“That’s nice, Yuuri, but don’t you think that you should at least put your pants on?” Phichit asked, and Yuuri tilted his head and looked around dramatically, before stage whispering in Phichit’s ear.
“Why would I wanna get pants on if I wanna get in on w-with Viktor, though?” Phichit quickly looked around to make sure that no one heard his best friend’s admission, and seeing that they were alone in the hallway, he sighed, rubbing his head. If only he hadn’t gotten distracted by Instagram! None of this would have happened if he had been a better friend.
“Are you telling me that you wanted to do Viktor on the dance floor?” Phichit asked jokingly when he finally got his friend’s pants on, and Yuuri giggled, leaning on Phichit heavily.
“N-no! I was gonna follow him to h-his room of course! T-then we were going to have f-fun times and it was gonna be great!” Oh no, he was getting loud again. He quickly led Yuuri into the elevator and hit the button for their floor. He couldn’t believe that his best friend had gotten this drunk. He hadn’t been this bad since the night he turned twenty one, when all of them had peer pressured him into drinking more and more, until Phichit had to yet again drag him away from a guy who had looked vaguely like Viktor on the dance floor. He sighed at the memory, shaking his head, and shifted his weight slightly so that Yuuri wasn’t leaning on his shoulder quite so heavily. Yuuri was already beginning to slump against him, muttering tiredly.
“Yuuri…” Phichit said sadly, feeling his heart hurt slightly at the thought of how bad Yuuri would feel in the morning. The hangover was going to be killer… just how much had he had? The elevator door opened and he stepped out, almost carrying Yuuri to their shared hotel room, making sure to put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle. He got Yuuri situated on the bed after making sure that he was out of his nice clothes, and allowed him to fall asleep.
However, Phichit didn’t allow himself to sleep, instead electing to stay up to make sure that Yuuri slept peacefully, and also to make sure that the older figure skater stayed away from their room. Phichit was now very unsure of Viktor, because he couldn’t get a read on the guy, and of course, he was one of the most protective friends that he could think of. Which was saying a lot, he’s seen all of the American movies with the overprotective friends of course. He was so protective of Yuuri that when he let himself think of Yuuri getting hurt, he felt his blood begin to boil angrily as he watched over his sleeping friend.
His attention was broken when he heard two male voices pass by his door, and he narrowed his eyes when one of the shadows stopped in front of his door, before he heard the other Yuri snap at him to hurry the hell up so that he could go to bed. The shadow left and Phichit released the breath that he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. Sighing heavily, he leaned against the headboard and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts before he landed on Chris’ number and thought to himself for a moment. Did he dare text the older male to demand what happened at the banquet, or did he never speak of it again? Thinking it over for a few moments, he finally sighed and clicked the number, sending him a text demanding to know what had happened at the banquet.
As he waited for a reply, he heard Yuuri groan, before he turned his back to Phichit, making him smile slightly. His phone vibrated and he looked down to see that Chris had responded, and he rolled his eyes at the rather excessive amount of emojis. The two of them texted back and forth for a while, Phichit’s heart sinking at the pictures. Oh god, does Yuuri really need to see this? It would destroy him, but… it wouldn’t really do him any good to be oblivious to what happened. He deserves to know. Suddenly, he heard Yuuri groan louder than he had before and looked up from his phone to see that he was curling in on himself, and there was the faintest trace of light coming in from the window. He quickly sat up to grab the Tylenol and Gatorade he had stored in his backpack in order to keep up energy.
Yuuri woke up, and all he could register was pain, pain, pain. He whimpered, the pain in his… well everything was unbearable. He felt like someone was trying to split his brain in two, and he just wanted to cry. His stomach was rolling, and he sat up quickly, wanting to get to the bathroom before his stomach staged a mutiny, but he couldn’t make it and instead leaned over the bed and emptied the contents of his stomach into a trash bin beside his bed. He felt Phichit rubbing smooth circles over his back and he was eventually able to sit back up and put his face in his hands, shaking slightly. His throat felt like it was on fire and his eyes and nose were watering, and he still felt like he was going to die.
“What… what happened?” He rasped, wincing at the way his throat protested to him talking. A bottle was placed against his hand and he looked to see Phichit holding a Gatorade bottle and he took it gratefully, downing at least half the bottle in one go. He took the Tylenol and downed them with the rest of the Gatorade, praying that the pain relievers would kick in quickly.
Phichit bit his lip, looking anywhere but at Yuuri, making him start to worry. “You got drunk at the banquet last night.” He said quietly, and Yuuri groaned loudly, ignoring the sharp sting of pain it caused, before he placed his head in his hands. Nothing good ever came out of him getting drunk.
“What’d I do?” He braced himself for the worst, because if he’d gotten drunk at the banquet and if Viktor had been there, which he was pretty sure that he had been, if his spotty memory of the night was anything to go by, there was no telling what he’d done to embarrass himself.
“Are you really sure you want to know?” Phichit asked, his voice laced with concern, and Yuuri felt his heart sink. Had I really been that bad?
“Y-yeah…” He whispered, looking up at Phichit with wide eyes. “Please, Phichit, I need to know.” He tried to strain to remember more than getting several shots of champagne and loosening his tie, but the harder he attempted to remember, the worse his head throbbed.
His friend sighed before turning down the brightness on his phone so as to not hurt Yuuri’s eyes, and handed him the phone. Yuuri squinted at the small screen before his eyes widened almost comically wide. He flipped through several, some telling him that he’d gotten into a dance off with the Russian Yuri, and he let out a distressed cry when he got to the pole dancing pictures. However, as if he were on autopilot, he continued going through the pictures, and he actually screamed when he stopped on one picture in particular. He dropped the phone in horror, all of the blood draining from his face at once.
“I humped Viktor Nikiforov?!” He screeched, looking at Phichit, halfway expecting him to say “surprise!” or “got ya!” but his friend simply gave him a sad smile and Yuuri felt his heart being squeezed.
Look at what you’ve done. You made a fool of yourself, are you happy? You are a disgrace. Viktor will never look at you the same again, not that he even really looked at you in the first place. No one is going to want to talk to you! The voice in his head was so loud, and Yuuri started to feel tears in his eyes, covering his ears with his hands. He felt like the world was shrinking, making him feel like he was running out of air, he couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe . He thought he heard Phichit saying something, but it sounded so indistinct and distant. Suddenly, there were arms around him, and he heard Phichit whispering something in his ear.
It took him a while, but he eventually felt the vice grip around his chest loosen, making it slightly easier to breathe, but not by much. He could finally hear Phichit over the ringing in his ears, and realized that he was counting down, breathing evenly. Yuuri tried to match his breathing with his friend’s, listening to him count and eventually-- finally-- he collapsed against Phichit, his breathing finally under control. After a few moments, or minutes, Yuuri couldn’t tell, he felt Phichit shift before pulling away, a determined set to his brow.
“Come on, we’re leaving, you need to get out of this hotel before you have another panic attack. After we get back to Detroit, we can figure out what to do from there, okay?” Yuuri simply nodded, unable to find the words to speak, too tired to get his lips and tongue to move. “I’m glad I decided to go ahead and pack everything last night. Here’s some clothes for you to wear to the airport.” Yuuri nodded at his friend, silently thanking him as he took the clothes the other offered. Phichit turned to get their clothes from last night into their suitcases, and Yuuri quickly put the clothes on, his head still spinning slightly.
“Phichit.” Yuuri tried, wincing at the roughness of his voice, and Phichit quickly turned, looking at him curiously. “Thank you… I dunno what I’d do without you.” Phichit’s face split into a wide grin and he shrugged slightly.
“I’d do anything for you, man! Now come on, we need to get going. I’ve got our tickets.” He held up the tickets that he’d fished out of his backpack and Yuuri suddenly remembered something.
“Phichit, where’s Ciao-Ciao?”
“Who knows, who cares?” Yuuri laughed a bit, hugging his friend.
“Come on, I kinda want to go out before any of the other skaters start mingling about.” Yuuri said, and Phichit nodded, grabbing both of their suitcases. Yuuri grabbed his backpack and together, they headed out of the hotel, and Phichit hailed a taxi to the Sochi Airport. They made it to the airport and checked their tickets, and they were able to board the soonest flight to Detroit, which Yuuri was thankful for, for he was still suffering from his headache. He boarded the plane with Phichit, and almost immediately fell asleep against him, exhausted from the events from the past few days.
Yuri was packing up when he heard a commotion outside his door. It sounded like the pathetic idiot and some Italian. They thought they were being quiet, but they were not managing it. Yuri decide that it was better to yell at them to shut up than to try and block them out. Yavok would probably yell at him again if he played his music too loudly. Stupid old man. He came out of his room to the sight of Viktor holding two styrofoam cups which smelled suspiciously like green tea glaring at the piggy’s coach.
“You are his coach. You are suppose to support your skaters and be there for them when they are upset enough to down sixteen flutes of champagne. Not wander off and let them pole dance in front of the entire skating community,” Viktor seethed, before knocking on the door.
“Uh, you do know that they left like, hours ago, right?” Yuri interpreted before this whole day could get even more ridiculous.
“WHAT?!” Twin accented voice yelled.
“ Da . The piggy woke me up with his yelling. I think they went to the airport,” He leaned against the wall, trying to appear more relaxed then worried about the older skater. He did not care about the piggy, at all .
“Why would they leave without me? I’m their coach!” the Italian cried before turning and running in the the direction that Yuri assumed his room was.
Viktor, meanwhile, had dropped his styrofoam cups with the most downtrodden look on his face. He looked like he was about to cry in the middle of the hallway.
“Ugh, get that look off your face. You look like someone killed that slobbering monster of yours. What is your problem?” Yuri asked disgust clear in his voice.
“Ididn’tevengethisnumber,” Viktor mumbled.
“What?” Yuri’s patience was beginning to wear thin with his older rink mate.
“I didn’t even get his number. His rink mate pulled him away before I could.” The silver-haired man looked near tears.
Yuri rolled his eyes and slammed his door, while hoping that older one would pull himself together before Yavok could show up and yell at him.
He shoved the rest of his clothes in his bag, now extremely irritated, and he slammed his suitcase closed, before grabbing his phone and putting his headphones on. He didn’t want to deal with Viktor’s whining any more than he absolutely had to. So, taking one last glance around the room to make sure that he had packed everything, he opened the door and stepped back into the hallway to see Viktor standing in the hallway, head down and gripping his suitcase. Yuri was taken aback when he saw what looked like tears running down his cheeks. Wow, he’s really taking this hard, isn’t he?
He sighed before walking up to the older Russian and lightly punching him on the shoulder. “Come on, old man. You can’t just sulk for forever, what would Yakov think?” Viktor looked up at him, and Yuri felt his heart clench in his chest at how upset Viktor looked, but he schooled his face before Viktor could truly recognize it. So, eventually, when Viktor had composed himself, they headed off to where Yakov’s room was, but Yuri looked back at the room where the Japanese Yuuri had stayed, staring until Viktor called for him to come on.
Tch, stupid pig.