Chapter Text
“KATSUKI!”
A dark head of hair jerked up and brown eyes rounded at the loud shout. On the other side of the rink’s barrier, snow flew up as a slender figure spun to a quick stop.
“KATSUKI!”
The man on the ice skated towards the barrier, raising a hand to cover his smile as he saw the other raising the textbook in his lap to hide his face, as if doing so would suddenly make him invisible to everyone else. Then his mouth dropped as a blond figure stormed into the practice rink from the hallway, a suitcase hoisted under one arm and a cat carrier under the other.
“Yuuri!” he hissed. “Yuuri, is that Yuri Plisetsky? Russian Yuri?”
A brown eye peeked over the top of the textbook shielding his face and Yuuri Katsuki’s face went extremely pale. He gave a tiny, jerky nod in response to the question.
“What did you do, Yuuri? Why is he here?” the other man demanded, torn between grinning and being just as horrified as his friend and roommate appeared to be.
“I don’t have a clue,” Yuuri whispered. “I’ve only talked to him once before and he was telling me to retire then.”
“Want me to record then? In case he decides to take matters into his own hands and pull a Tonya Harding to make sure you do?”
As the blond Russian stormed closer, Yuuri groaned and closed his textbook, realizing it would be futile to hide or run away. “Not helping, Phichit,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.
Phichit shrugged unapologetically but didn’t say anything because the blond teen had finally reached them, green eyes glaring and a dark scowl on his face. He towered over Yuuri, who had been studying on a bench while Phichit had been running through some basic choreography.
“Katsuki!” Yuri spat, setting down his suitcase and cat carrier before crossing his arms.
“Hi?” Yuuri tried, offering up a timid smile and a hesitant wave.
Yuri’s scowl darkened. “Hi?” he repeated. “Hi? That’s all you’re going to say?”
Yuuri only shrugged, causing Phichit to snort and draw the blond’s attention away from the Japanese figure skater. “Yuri, right?” Phichit asked innocently. “The other Yuri? Aren’t you supposed to be in Russia right now?”
“I’m not the other Yuri,” the Russian snapped. “I am the only Yuri in the Senior division.”
Phichit arched an eyebrow and glanced at his friend with amusement. “Yuuri, did you change your name without telling me?” he pouted. “Because I definitely know that you haven’t announced your retirement. SNS has been saying the opposite, actually.” He gave Yuuri a pointed look before turning his attention back on the younger skater. “Phichit Chulanont,” he introduced himself with a wave. “Thailand. What brings you to Detroit, other Yuri?”
A flicker of hesitation passed through green eyes, barely there but just enough to be caught by two figure skaters who had years of experience in watching for little cues such as that. When Yuri seemed to struggle for words, they both knew.
Rumpled clothes, tangled hair, a suitcase—signs of a lengthy flight. Both skaters had also traveled enough to recognize the first signs of jet lag setting in. Without even glancing at his screen, Phichit googled arrivals times for the Detroit airport and sure enough, a flight from Saint Petersburg had landed just over an hour ago. He must have come straight here.
Bloodshot, red-rimmed, puffy eyes, a hoarse voice—which meant …
Yuuri glanced down at his phone when it buzzed with a message from Phichit, a screenshot of the arrival times, confirmation of his suspicions as well. He quickly shoved his phone in his pocket before beaming up at the Russian skater. “It’s good to see you again, Yuri,” he said easily. “You’ve got great timing. Phichit was just finishing up and then we were going back to our place for lunch. Do you want to join us?” He gave Phichit a meaningful look.
The Thai skater rolled his eyes with a smile. “Yes, mom,” he replied before taking off to skate a few laps to cool down. He and Yuuri still had a good hour of rink time reserved still, but it was officially the off-season and some things took priority.
Things like an impulsive, overtired teenager in the midst of an emotional breakdown and who had likely ran away from home to a country halfway around the world.
Phichit chuckled under his breath as he made one last lap. Well, if anyone was prepared to deal with a situation like that, he and Yuuri probably were. After all, it wasn’t like the first time this had happened.
Yuuri was packing his book and notebooks in his backpack when Yuri sighed loudly and collapsed on the bench next to him, glaring at his feet. “Why’d he call you mom?” the blond grumbled.
The Japanese skater shrugged. “Probably because I worry over everything a lot and tend to keep him out of trouble,” he replied. “It’s Phichit.”
Yuri snorted.
After a few seconds of silence, Yuuri finally got the courage to speak up. “Is everything okay?”
He flinched as green eyes snapped up to glare at him. “Everything’s fine!” Yuri growled out. “Just fine.”
Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Fine or fine?” he asked and received a scowl for his efforts.
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s Aerosmith,” Yuuri replied with a small chuckle. “Stands for fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.”
“Whatever,” came the muttered reply. “I’m fine.” There were another few heartbeats of silence before Yuri’s glare intensified. “What are you even doing?”
“Packing up my things?” Yuuri offered. “I thought that was obvious.”
“No! I mean why aren’t you on the ice? Why are you just sitting here, looking like a little piggy loser, instead of skating?”
Yuuri forced himself to laugh and made the sound loud enough to reach Phichit, who had undoubtedly heard Yuri’s question. He could handle the comments. “It’s finals,” he explained with a shrug. “Phichit and I trade off between studying and practicing during our rink time and it was his turn to practice.” His explanation was met with a blank look. “You look tired,” he remarked to the teen.
“So?” Yuri scoffed.
Yuuri shrugged again. “If you want, you can take a nap at our place after lunch,” he said. “It’ll be quiet, since Phichit and I will just be studying for the rest of the day. I’m sure your cat would like to be let out of its carrier for a bit.” He glanced down at the feline, who was glaring at everything with bright green eyes. It was a strangely familiar look.
“Puma Tiger Scorpion.”
Brown eyes blinked. “What?”
“Her name is Puma Tiger Scorpion,” Yuri repeated, a light blush spreading across his cheeks and nose. “Potya for short.”
“Potya,” Yuuri hummed. “I like it. We cat-sit for our neighbors sometimes, so we have a litter box at our place and some dry food left, but if Potya eats wet food, we’ll pick some up when we get dinner.”
“Lunch, a nap, now dinner,” Yuri sneered. “Next thing I know, you’ll be saying that I can just stay with you.”
“You’re welcome to,” Yuuri responded easily. “I know most hotels don’t allow cats or let people under eighteen reserve rooms, but if you have a friend you’d rather stay with, just let me or Phichit know and we’ll go with you to meet them, to help with your things.”
A strange look passed over Yuri’s face, but it was quickly masked by a scowl. “Whatever,” Yuri muttered.
“Yuuri!”
Both skaters looked up at the call and Phichit waved them over, smirking. “I thought we were leaving,” Phichit reminded them, passing his own backpack over to Yuuri and taking control of Yuri’s suitcase, leaving the cat carrier for the blond. “And as easy as it will be to remember names, you really need a nickname. Or else it’ll just be confusing. What are the Russian nicknames for Yuri?”
The youngest skater of the group merely glared at him.
“Yura or Yuratchka,” Yuuri murmured to Phichit, but paused when Yuri flinched at his words.
“Yura,” the blond growled. “Don’t ever call me Yuratchka. No one gets to call me that!”
Phichit plastered a smile on his face. “Okay,” he said. “Yura,” he decided, pointing at Yuri. “And Yuu-chan!” he announced, pointing at Yuuri.
Yuuri’s brown eyes narrowed, but a resigned look appeared on his face. “There’s already a Yuu-chan in my life,” he said flatly.
“But not in mine!” Phichit nearly sang. “Now come on, let’s go. Before the after-school crowd gets here.”
Yuuri paled at the thought and slung Phichit’s bag over his free shoulder, giving a sharp nod in response. The pair of roommates glanced back at Yuri in time to see a flicker of uncertainty cross his face, before his green eyes narrowed and he gave an equally sharp nod. “Fine,” he grumbled.