Author's Note: 12k words later, here is my Victuuri Reverse Big Bang piece! The art that inspired this story is by katsukifatale on tumblr. See this story on AO3 for the link. Trust me, it's worth it! They were a great partner and are a great artist!

Disclaimer: Don't own Yuri! On Ice, sorry!

Leave me a nice thought when you're finished?

First Night

Katsuki Yuuri could say that, in the first two years he'd spent in the United States attending university, he'd never gone out and partied or clubbed until he met Phichit Chulanont. Many had tried but none had been able to get the shy man into the loud, raucous events where his peers drowned in cheap beer and swallowed each other's spit (among other things). No, it took a boy nearly three years younger than him to coax him into what was considered the quietest bar near campus, blocks from their apartment they shared together with a promise of buying dinner all weekend and a threat against one of his precious first edition books. The Great Gatsby was under lockdown in an undisclosed location until they both came home, courtesy of the sly younger man.

The bar itself wasn't that bad. No, Phichit had dragged him to worse in the last three years. Sports bars and clubs where Yuuri couldn't hear himself think, let alone whatever Phichit would try to yell out to him. They were the worst. That night, he found himself sitting in a booth off to the side, a glass of Oronoko Cocoa half empty in front of him and Phichit rattling off an order of bar food to a girl with pink hair who lazily scribbled on her paper pad. The bar itself was tasteful, a newer opening for the campus town, with modern architecture giving personality to the walls. The booths and chairs were in soft, buttery black leather and accents of chrome highlighted both furniture and the bar itself. It lacked the tacky neon beer signs that most places had. Different colored bottles were on the wall behind the taps, backlit with soft light and strings of light lit up in each bottle. Phichit called it a hipster pub, saying how it seemed to be the ones Yuuri liked the most.

"Yuuri, term finished, we got past finals. Summer has started! Can you, for just one night, let loose and enjoy yourself?"

Yuuri glanced over the rim of his glass, fighting off a sigh as he sipped at the beer Phichit ordered for him half an hour before. The Thai man looked somewhat stern, hands overlapping at the base of his own ale. He knew that look.

"I am enjoying myself…" he said, voice somewhat petulant.

"Don't lie to me. I'm going to have to pull out the big guns to get you to chill out." Phichit sighed dramatically.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yuuri straightened in his seat. "I'm chill! I'm chill!" To prove his point, he took an extra large pull from his drink. Through the warped view of his now nearly empty glassware, Yuuri could see his roommate's less than impressed face. "What?"

Phichit made a noncommittal noise, leaning back as the girl with the pink hair came back, placing a few baskets of appetizers between the both of them. When she asked if they wanted more beer, he nodded and pointed to two new options on the card sitting at their table. Yuuri was ignored when he muttered he didn't need another.

"What did you just order me? This last one was weird."

"An Electric Fence. I got the Vacation."

"You're ordering me the more alcoholic ones on purpose, aren't you?"

Phichit just smirked, reaching out to grab a fried pickle spear. "After these, you can order whatever you want. I just wanted to try their new house brews."

"You're still taking your official legality to drink with aplomb, I see." He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him when Phichit stuck his tongue out at him.

Two hours later, their table was covered in five beer glasses, a wine glass, and four shot glasses, still partially rimmed with salt and sugar. Various empty baskets were stacked on one another and two plates were covered in forgotten crumbs and smeared ketchup. Phichit was alone, kneeling in the booth, phone out, recording the spectacle Yuuri was making. And Yuuri didn't really care that he was arguing with a stranger over writers.

"Shakespeare is overrated. I don't care what you think!"

"How can you think that? The man is a bard that's lasted hundreds of years!"

"Because we teach school children to like it or else. If we would take him out of basic curriculums in high school and gave students someone more thought provoking and less of a troll, then maybe other notable writers could be appreciated!"

"Name three who would be better than Shakespeare."

"Tolstoy. Kate Chopin. Neil Gaiman. I could go on." The Japanese man was using his fingers the count off random authors, pausing when he was interrupted.

"What makes you the authority on literature?"

"What makes you? "

The stranger laughed, taking a quick sip of his long-necked beer bottle. "I happen to make a living teaching it."

Yuuri scoffed. "Is that supposed to impress me?"

"It usually works," he shrugged, throwing out a wink.

"...What was that?"

"What?"

"T-that wink, or eye twitch! Whatever you want to call it!" Yuuri flushed deeper than the alcohol-induced red already staining his face. He crossed his arms across his chest and frowned.

The stranger, wind somewhat knocked out of his sails, ran a hand through his platinum hair. "You're so ruffled. I can't tell if you're flirting back or not," he chuckled. His fingers carded through his bands.

"You're flirting with me?!" Yuuri's voice raised several octaves, eyes widening like saucers.

"Naturally. You're cute." The man winked again before flagging the bartender and gesturing to their drinks. They barely got going again before a fresh bottle of local brew and a tall long island iced tea. "' The love of heaven makes one heavenly', after all."

Yuuri blinked, silent as he reached for his latest drink. After a long sip, he side glanced at his literature rival, lips drawn in a smirk. "Why would you say that?"

"Hmm? Because you are hea-"

"No. Why would you quote me Shakespeare when I told you I don't like him that much? You could have gone for a Justin Bieber song and it wouldn't have been as infuriating." Yuuri knocked back half the iced tea, giving the man a start. "If you think you'll get anywhere with me, you have to use the right words ."

Yuuri's mouth kept the smirk he'd been wearing when the man quoted Shakespeare, but it deepened, brows arching, head tilted to the side. Then, his tongue ran across his bottom lip, just so. A hint.

"' Wild nights! Wild nights! Were I with thee, Wild nights should be Our luxury!'"

The stranger made an odd noise, a strangled choke from his throat, blue eyes widened, pupils slightly blown. "W-what?"

"Emily Dickinson." Another drink of the spiked tea. " That's how you flirt."

More of the choking noise, his hands flying to loosen the tie around his neck. Freeing himself from the stranglehold he seemed to resent. He took a drag of his beer before reaching out for Yuuri's fingers that sat in front of his own perspiring glass.

"I'm Viktor."

"Yuuri."

"Yuuri, let's trade numbers?"

Yuuri seemed to think it over a moment, eyes narrowing. "Why would you want my number?"

Viktor couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "So I can make you angry with more Shakespeare and any other writer you think is overrated."

"Mmm…"

"Please? I'll send you photos of the most adorable dog ever. I swear!"

Unable to hold back his laugh, Yuuri's skeptical face broke, a grin lighting across his features. "You can't prove it's the cutest. You're probably biased."

"No, no, for real! I'll prove it!" Viktor pulled out his phone and, after tapping for a minute, he showed Yuuri his screen. "This is Makkachin! She's my poodle and here, she's wearing her Halloween costume! Isn't she cute!"

"I can't believe you put her in a tutu and a halo!"

Viktor cleared the screen, proud smile reminiscent of a parent's. "Makka loves dressing up. So… Your number?"

"Yuuri, I brought you some Gatorade and aspirin!"

"'Chit… Can you not yell so loud?" Yuuri poked his head out from his comforter long enough to glare at his roommate and take the proffered hangover remedies.

Phichit hummed in apology before sitting down on the edge of the other man's bed. "Despite the hangover, at least you had fun last night. Right, Yuuri?"

Yuuri looked over the rim of the bottle, gulping down the neon green liquid. "What do you mean? I barely remember last night."

The sound of the younger man's sigh echoed and assaulted Yuuri's ears, causing a groan to slip out from his dry lips. Taking a few hesitant sips of the neon green liquid given to him, Yuuri tried to clear the fuzz from his mind and take in the words said to him.

Last night.

Last. Night.

Last night?

"Wait, what happened last night? I don't remember anything after the wine I ordered."

Another groan as he nearly fell out of bed, Phichit saving him at the last minute and sitting him up straight. The world moved too fast when he sat up so quickly, something he never learned whenever he drank himself into oblivion. Phichit kept his chuckle soft as he handed the Gatorade back to Yuuri and leaned back a little on the mattress.

"You basically got into an argument with some stranger over literature then swapped numbers."

Yuuri tried not to choke on the sip he took, glaring over the rim of the plastic bottle of his roommate. "I don't trust when you say 'basically'. What happened?"

"I mean, I recorded some of it. Do you want to see?"

The look on Phichit's face was completely contradictory to the innocent tone of his voice. Lighthearted, casual. The Thai man's face, however, was a mirror of mischief. Lips pulled in a smirk, brow quirked in a challenge. Yuuri could only groan again, running a hand through his extreme bedhead.

"After a shower and breakfast. I feel like I need to prepare myself for something awful."

Phichit could only laugh.

Two hours later, breakfast plates in the sink, remnants of toast, syrup, and the smell of bacon evident on the table top, the two men sat down with coffee and a new bottle of electrolytes (this time in blinding red) between them. The only sound in the room was the tinny voice of Yuuri as he criticized a man over Shakespeare and the responding laugh. When Yuuri tried to bury his face in his hands, Phichit grabbed his wrist, smirk growing wider.

"Keep watching."

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"You looked like you were having fun!"

"I look drunk…. Oh god!"

The recorded conversation took a different turn and Yuuri couldn't help but to glue his eyes to the screen, watching every move, every facial feature change. He admired the man's hands as he used them to speak, accentuating his point with a flick of the wrist.

"...your number?"

Yuuri laughed, scrunching his nose in distaste. "Very funny. I think I need to leave."

"Wait! I'm serious! Let's talk more." The silver-haired man pulled out his phone. "Please?"

Hesitation written across his face, Yuuri pulled out his own, gripping it tightly.

"Let's do this. I'll put my number in your phone and if you want to talk, shoot me a text? Does that sound okay to you?"

Yuuri's discomfort faded slightly, head nodding in acquiesce. The liquor of the night was starting to slowly recede, his actions more like himself and less brave, less sure. The reality of everything sobering him up quicker than he would like. Handing his phone over before he could talk himself out of it, he watched the man quickly tap in his number before handing it back.

"I hope I hear from you, Yuuri."

"Mmm."

Viktor tilted his head. "What is it?"

"I'm trying to decide something."

"What?"

"Shh!" Yuuri put a hand over Viktor's mouth, ignoring the smile against his palm. Ignoring the blue eyes that narrowed in confused amusement.

Quiet, unseen, Phichit's voice whispered like a monologue.

"Yuuri, what are you doing?! Oh my god! Wait… I know that look…. Ahh, Yuuri!"

Decision made, Yuuri took his hand away from the man's mouth, choosing to instead use his hand to trail down his shoulders before his fingers gripped the loose tie. Viktor had little time to react before Yuuri pulled him close, bending him forward so that their eyes were level and faces less than an inch apart.

"Y-yuuri?"

"Keep your eyes on me. I'm only going to say this once."

Instead of words, his lips pressed against against Viktor's, speaking volumes louder. He was met with a surprised lack of resistance at first, but not a breath later, lips pressed back and encouraged the tangling of hot breath and the parting of lips.

More monologue from Phichit whispered over the moment. "Holy crap, Yuuri! Get it!"

A tangle of fingers in hair, lips, and tongues, it felt like a lifetime to Yuuri. His half-drunk brain had a hard time comprehending both time and space, so it chose to focus on the feeling of silky hair on his fingertips, the swapping of saliva, the press of a tongue on his bottom lip.

"Oh my god. How much longer do we make out?"

Yuuri buried his face in his hands after hitting pause. Watching himself on the small screen of Phichit's phone brought back some of what he was seeing. The feelings and sensations, the unexplainable desire he'd had and apparently acted upon to kiss the man who flirted terribly with him.

"About two more minutes. Then you have an epiphany of some kind. Skip ahead about ninety-eight seconds or so, that should be a good spot."

"How much did you record exactly?" He shot him a dirty look.

Phichit shrugged, his shit-eating grin not dropping. "Well, I have you guys arguing for almost fifteen minutes-you argued for ten minutes before I started filming, honestly-then your public make out session was maybe only five minutes. There's maybe two or three minutes after you guys stop sucking face. My battery almost died, so I had to stop."

Yuuri couldn't keep the glare off his face as he looked over to his best friend, heaving a sigh as he skipped the video and hit play again. Yes, there indeed they were. Still kissing, bodies stuck together. Yuuri's hand still gripping Viktor's tie with an iron grip and Viktor looking like he didn't care in the slightest.

"Mm. I… I need to go," Yuuri muttered, pulling away, distracted.

"What?"

The camera zoomed in on Viktor's face, dazed, eyes glazed over, lips red. Yuuri was in a similar state, cheeks flushed red and lips shiny.

"I have to go."

"Why?" Viktor pulled away to look him in the eye, uncaring that he was still being held by the tie around his neck.

Yuuri hummed, brows furrowed. "This isn't good. I need to go." Still, he didn't release the crumpled and completely wrinkled tie.

"Text me. Please?"

Viktor took both of Yuuri's hands in his, finally prying the tie free and looking down into the pair of brown eyes staring back at him.

"Please?" he repeated again.

Yuuri hesitated only a moment before nodding, taking a step back, then another. "I need to find Phichit."

There was a whine of frustration in the background, Phichit's usual sign of irritation. "My battery! No! Ugh!" Louder, he called out to the Japanese man. "Yuuri! Are you ready to go?"

The video stopped there. The final still Yuuri looking Phichit's way, walking towards him and, in the distance, the man with silver hair watching him walk away in wonder.

"Are you going to text him now?"

Face beet red, Yuuri resisted the urge to throw the younger man's phone across the room. Instead, he none too gently slid it across the table and grumbled, "Why? I was drunk. He probably was too. Maybe he doesn't remember me. How embarrassing would that be?"

Phichit frowned at the rough treatment of his device, checking it quickly for damage before pocketing it. "How would you know unless you did it? And if he doesn't, so what? Just don't message him anymore."

"'Hi, this is the drunk Asian boy you made out with last night, remember me? Wanna hang out?' I mean, that sounds stupid." Yuuri stood, taking his empty Gatorade bottle to the recycling bin and began running water to do the dishes from earlier.

"Yuuri, stop being pessimistic! You went out, had a good time with a dude who was hot as hell and super interested in you! We made it through finals and you got picked as a TA for the fall. All signs point to things going your way! Just text him! I'll help you write it if you want."

Yuuri was silent, contemplating as he squeezed dish soap on a sponge. The whole reason they'd gone out the night before was because the year had ended so well and because Yuuri had gotten a coveted teaching assistant in his department, linguistics. There were only four positions and more than a dozen had applied. He was supposed to get an email by the end of the following week with his assigned professor and the tentative schedule he'd follow in preparing to work with them. This was his final summer in Detroit before he had decisions to make; stay in America and find a job, continue to a doctorate, or head back to Hasetsu, to Japan. Perhaps he should have fun…

"Yuuri, I can hear the gears in your head turning from here. What are you thinking?"

Phichit was leaning on the counter, elbows propping his chin up as he watched his roommate dry dishes and stack them in the cupboard. His hazel eyes were thoughtful, smile less trickster and more curiosity.

"I think… I'll text him?"

Phichit only nodded, happy with his decision.

Hey, this is Yuuri from the bar last night. Hopefully you remember me?

Anyhow.. This is my number, you can save it if you want?

Hope your morning wasn't as rough as mine! ;)

Yuuri! I was hoping you'd contact me!

Thank you for texting! My morning… While I don't think I had as many as you, I can tell I'm not twenty-one anymore! Hopefully you weren't too off yourself?

Mm, I've had worse. Thank you.

So you're even shyer when you're sober? ;)

You're so quiet.

Yeah… I…

My friend Phichit, the one I left with, he recorded me… Us. I'm not normally like that, I'm sorry!

Don't be sorry! I enjoyed myself! Clearly! ;)

So you say there's video of us? Can I have your friend's number?

Why?

Scientific reasons, of course.

You want that video?

ANYWAY. Yuuri, would you like to get dinner tonight?

Smooth.

Um, sure?

Excellent! I have a great spot for a hot date like you!

I have a request…

Can we… Can we not call this a date?

I just feel like I should let you see me like I normally am and I still don't think you really want to spend time talking to me or anything.

You're so suspicious!

But if that will make you comfortable, absolutely!

Do you have any places you'd like to go to or are you happy with me picking something?

You can pick. I'm not too picky with food or drinks.

Great! :D

I have some emails to write and shoot off before I get to a meeting this afternoon, but feel free to text me anytime.

Meet me in front of the statue of the nymph at six?

That will work. See you tonight then.

See you later, Yuuuuuri! :)

"You're smiling so hard right now. It's actually adorable."

"Shut up."

Second Night

The campus had a set pair of sculptures that went together. Eventually, the administration decided they were too erotic to be placed as close together as they were meant to be. So instead, the lusting faun was set further away from the bathing nymph to create an illusion of decency. This bothered Yuuri to no end. Art censored for the sake of grown adults, even if most of them still took laundry home to their local parents for washing and lived on instant packs of ramen noodles and disgusting snack cakes. Americans had funny sensibilities about some things and not others. It wasn't that Yuuri was a prude, no he had nothing on the administration of Wayne State. He was just shy and lacked very little confidence. Still, he appreciated the humor behind meeting Viktor here.

He arrived early, ten minutes or so so that he could settle his nerves. In that time, he witnessed a break up, a possible drug deal, and a girl in pajama pants play with a squirrel. He also received a text from Viktor.

"You've witchcraft in your lips."

Yuuri couldn't help the laugh that escaped. Another Shakespeare line. At least it wasn't something from Romeo and Juliet . Unable to fight the blush on his cheeks, he thought of something he could reply with.

"I sometimes have a queer feeling in regard to you."

You wound me!

You're good, Yuuri. See you soon.

Viktor took him to a quiet restaurant, family owned and just outside the campus proper. Yuuri'd seen it a few times but never had the time to stop and wonder if he would have the opportunity to try them. I was glad he'd waited to visit with Viktor. They seemed to know him well enough, greeting him by name. It wasn't a romantic setting, nowhere near with families and children in various spots of the dining room. It was cozy, warm. And despite never having been, it felt familiar and comfortable.

Yuuri enjoyed the atmosphere, the food, the company. Even the infuriating Shakespeare references and the Sleepless in Seattle joke.

"You're a romantic, aren't you?"

Viktor grinned, tipping his glass left to right gently, the melting ice clinking softly in the bottom. "What makes you think that?"

"You speak in poetry like teens speak in memes. Or are you just doing it to get me to put out?"

Internally, Yuuri winced at how harsh he sounded. His voice hadn't been razor sharp, but it definitely held more suspicion in it than what he wanted to convey. Across from him, Viktor just smiled.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you enough to sleep with you, Yuuri. But I am a romantic, I guess. Always have been since I was a kid."

Yuuri took his answer, nodding. "What do you do? You said you teach?"

Viktor sat up straighter, smile growing and taking on a somewhat heart-shape. "Yes! I've taken on a post at the college here. One of the professors went on maternity leave and decided to not come back? I've been filling in for her since after the new year and the school decided to sign me on permanently."

"Who left?"

"Amanda Harding."

"Ah, yeah I remember her. She taught my contemporary lit class last year. She was a good teacher. Maybe she'll come back in a few years." Yuuri sipped at the last of his water. "What classes are you teaching? I'm assuming you're in the English department, then?"

Viktor nodded. "Yes, I'll be teaching that same vein she did, but I don't know the specifics just yet. Won't until they send down tentative registration numbers. But. I also teach Russian and French when needed. At least, at my old university I did."

Yuuri frowned. "Is it… Is it a good idea for us to do...whatever it is we're doing if you're a teacher? I'm technically still a student for one more year." Squirming, suddenly uncomfortable in his seat, worry began to plague him. He didn't want the man fired and he surely didn't want to be kicked out of school for having a friendship, flirt-a-thon, relationship-whatever this was-and his brain was envisioning the worst scenarios.

Blinking, Viktor looked like he hadn't even entertained the idea of their time together as wrong. "I don't think so. If you'd like, I can look into it. But I think we'd be fine." He smiled. "Ready to go?"

Viktor walked Yuuri home, chatting with him about little things. Even bringing out his phone to show off his dog more, when Yuuri sober could appreciate the photos better. Noting the file info at the top, Yuuri nearly choked on air when he saw the phone had over two thousand photos of the poodle in the folder they were in alone .

"Text me again, Yuuri." Viktor gave him a warm smile, brushing his fingers along the back of his hand. His eyes were a deep blue even in the light of his and Phichit's porch light. Yuuri could only nod, swallowing the nerves that had bubbled up at the sensation of skin on skin for the briefest of moments.

Twelfth Night

Yuuuuri, you should come visit me. I'm so lonely in my office!

I'm sort of busy?

Why the question mark? And how does 'sort of' work?

I'm waiting for an email from the school.

Yuuri, you realize your cell phone gets emails. You can read said emails anywhere. Like in my office. With me.

… Fine. Better than the sitting around I was doing.

SO SAVAGE. You're so mean to me, Yuuri!

I'll be there in half an hour.

It took almost an hour.

One long walk later, Yuuri was walking into the English department wing, silently counting out the doors in his head that would lead him to Viktor. First hallway on the right, second on the left, last door on the left. In one hand he carried a plastic bag with drinks and the other, take out from the Chinese joint a block from his and Phichit's place. Spurr of the moment and completely unexpected, he hoped Viktor wouldn't laugh at him for bringing food, for assuming. For picking out his dinner and not asking for input.

He didn't have to worry. He knew better. But it was Viktor's look of surprise and the ever widening grin on his face the told him it was the right move. He'd barely had time to set the food on Viktor's desk before he was locked in a hug, air supply cut off and surrounded by a large Russian man.

"Yuuri, you're so thoughtful! I was going to order pizza but this is ten times better!"

This was the twelfth time they'd spent an evening together. And to Yuuri's initial wishes, they still weren't being called dates. These were just getting together as friends. Friends who, on their last rendezvous together, ended up slightly tipsy and kissing for a half hour outside Yuuri's place before Phichit interrupted coming home from his own actual date. Neither had brought up that night in texts or meetings since.

It was halfway through his garlic chicken and Viktor his pepper steak that Viktor voiced what his eyes had been asking since they'd settled down to eat. Yuuri had gone quiet, lost in thought as he chewed, a frown marring his face. His eyes were focused on Viktor's daily quotes calendar, one that he loathed because it was all romantics writers, but fully unseeing.

"Something bothering you? Penny for your thoughts and all that."

He couldn't keep the small smirk from his lips, taking in how Viktor's face mirrored his, but with a touch of concern with the wrinkle in his forehead. Reaching out, he used his finger to push on the wrinkle, smoothing the plane of Viktor's face.

"I'm just thinking. It's been a week past the time I was supposed to get an email from the school. I got a TA position, but haven't been assigned a prof yet. Makes me think they changed their minds and gave it to someone else."

"Well, I can help a little there. There's been some shake ups in the teaching roster for the fall. I know they're scrambling a bit because some are retiring, others are too new to have a TA or just don't want one. They're doing a little bit of the old switcharoo to fit everyone in as promised. You're in the linguistics department, I don't think anything is changing there, but they don't want to release some people but not others. So give it time."

Yuuri let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Every word Viktor spoke, it felt like a little more weight was coming off his shoulders. By the time Viktor finished, he planted his face onto the desk and sighed. "Thank you. That helps a lot. I was kind of worried."

Viktor reached out, patting his head gently. "Of course. If things like this bother you, come see me. I can try to help you." He didn't remove his hand. Instead, his fingers carded through his hair, massaging his scalp.

Yuuri groaned quietly at the sensation. "You've got to stop unless you're going to go for it. It feels too good."

Laughing, the older man pulled his hand back, leaving one more pat as he withdrew. "Another time."

"God, what would I do without you?"

"Whither and die."

"Yes. Lost at sea forever." Yuuri turned his head to grin at Viktor, their eyes meeting.

"'Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.'"

Yuuri let out a groan, sitting up to playfully glare at the teacher. "Really?"

Viktor looked innocent. "What?"

"What parts of that irritates me, surprises me, and has me shaking my head all at once?"

"You mean besides Shakespeare?"

Yuuri nodded, a dusting of pink across his cheekbones.

Looking through the papers on his desk, Viktor tried to portray the absolute look of innocence and disinterest suddenly. But the mischief in his eyes gave him away. "Oh, did you not like my Twelfth Night reference? Or is Billy Shakespeare still riding you chafe?"

"Viktor…"

"Yuuri…"

Twenty-Eighth Night

At some point, to everyone but them, it was obvious that they were dating. Viktor had come over one July morning, bedhead still present, clothes thrown on, and was drinking coffee at the table with Phichit while Yuuri slept it, constantly hitting the snooze button despite it being after nine.

"Why do you look so unkempt? This isn't like you," asked Phichit, sipping on his own cup.

"Thinking," Viktor grunted. He gulped his coffee, eyes closed and savoring the hot flavor, before elaborating. "Why does Yuuri hate labels?"

Phichit chuckled. "Oh, did you figure that out? That you two are basically dating?"

Viktor could only grunt an affirmation.

"He's scared. Cut your joking around with the romantic quotes and tell him how you actually feel. That might help." The younger man bit into his toast, careful not to get crumbs on his outfit. He was clearly dressed for an interview. Phichit never wore khakis if he could escape it. "Also, you could just outright ask him what he thinks you guys are. Even if there isn't a label, defining what the relationship is is important."

"You're very wise for your age, Phichit." Viktor couldn't help but chuckle and watch him slather on jam to the bread.

Phichit laughed, shaking his head. "I doubt that. I'm just used to handling Yuuri after knowing him so many years. Go in there and talk to him now. Take a cup of coffee, let him wake up while you both relax, and tell him how you feel."

While Viktor knew Yuuri wasn't a morning person, he'd never been privileged to witness it first hand. There had been grumbled phone calls answered, short and even one-worded texts, or complete refusals at the door whenever he'd visit or make contact. This was the first time he'd entered Yuuri's personal space and, while he wished he could have come in with Yuuri leading him in with express approval, he was still excited to wake the man up and greet him with a smile.

Sitting two cups of coffee on the nightstand, gently moving aside a half-empty bottle of water, Viktor looked down at the half nested bundle of blankets and hair that was Yuuri and couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Careful to not jostle the bed too much, he sat on the edge and leaned over Yuuri's sleeping form, running his hands through his hair.

"Yuuuuri."

Only a slight shift, the man wiggling deeper under the covers.

"Good morning, Yuuri!" Viktor raised his voice a little more, bringing singsong tones to Yuuri's name.

Yuuri only turned to face the wall, making Viktor sigh. Thinking a moment, he weighed out the pros and cons of his next thought and, exactly when that moment ended, threw caution to the wind. Gingerly lifting the covers, he slid himself under them, body reacting immediately to the radiating warmth Yuuri was putting out against the air conditioned air of the apartment by drawing closer and growing goosebumps. He didn't have to chase Yuuri across the bed. It was small, a double, and Yuuri came right to him, clinging to him all arms and legs. Viktor was eager to bring him close, arm slung across his torso and the other near his head, fingers still playing with the inky black hair. Yuuri's sleeping body took it upon itself to tangle their legs together, a knotted mess if they tried to sit up. Surprisingly, Yuuri's hot hands traveled across Viktor's torso, one mimicking his and resting on the crook of his hip, and the other fisting the material of his thin summer t-shirt.

"Yuuuuuri," Viktor whispered, lips close to the man's ear. "You've been holding out on me. I didn't know you were so affectionate."

"Shhh. Sleep."

"Ah so you are awake."

A grunt, followed by Yuuri snuggling a little closer. "I was asleep until you whispered right into my ear."

"I brought you some coffee," Viktor offered, making to pull away and grab it. Instead, Yuuri pulled him closer by the shirt, not letting him move more than an inch.

"Later." Yuuri nuzzled his face into his pillow, eyes cracking open just enough for Viktor to see the brown hidden behind the lids. "I was up late translating pages. What time is it?"

Viktor glanced at his watch. "Ten to ten. When did you go to bed?"

The Japanese man made another groan, but opened his eyes a little more. "Around five or six. DiStefano wanted the paper translated from Japanese before his first class for his summer students tomorrow so I just powered through it."

"Such a hard worker, Yuuri. Doing all the grunt work for the other teachers for pay, I have to say, that was an impressive thought to make money for the summer."

"Mm." Yuuri brought himself just an inch closer to Viktor. He could feel his breath on his neck now, causing his cheeks to heat up just a touch. Yuuri didn't notice or didn't care. "Got to make money and it's easy. Until my TA term starts, then the school's gonna pay me."

Viktor hummed in reply, getting familiar with the school's assistant programs this summer himself. "You should sleep more if that's how long you've been down."

"Why did you come over?" Yuuri's voice was a mix of clear yet husky. Sleep still residing in his throat despite the lack of tired slurring of words that usually accompanied Viktor himself when he first woke up.

"Well, I figured we could relax, chat, have lunch. But you need sleep more if you've only gone to bed three hours ago."

Yuuri brought the hand draped around Viktor's waist to his own face, rubbing at his eyes. "Three hours is normal for me. I can get up." Yet, he made no move to actually get up, legs still tangled and hand still holding on to Viktor's shirt.

"No, no. Sleep. It's Friday. I know I don't have any work today and you just finished yours. We can do something later after you've rested." Viktor smiled, gently squeezing Yuuri's hip in comfort.

"But you've come here… You shouldn't have to leave and come back…"

Viktor chuckled. "I think you underestimate how much I'm enjoying our positions right now. I'd gladly nap with you if you'll let me." Another squeeze to the somewhat thick flesh of Yuuri's hip.

Yuuri seemed to take a moment to think, his brain working hard to comprehend and make decisions despite the exhausted fog that seemed to still permeate his mind. There was an internal war playing across his face, but Viktor chose not to speak of it, letting Yuuri work out whatever was going on inside his brain. He could tell when Yuuri came to a decision; the body next to him that had somewhat tensed a little more as he woke up relaxed again and Yuuri's arm found its place back on his hip.

"Let's sleep. I'm too tired to care about being embarrassed."

Viktor hummed in agreement. "Naps are good. When we wake up, we can have lunch and talk. Sound okay?"

"Mmm."

The warmth of the makeshift nest Yuuri had build and the combined heat of their bodies, it was easy for Viktor to see how Yuuri'd stayed in a state of semi-sleepiness. The gentle puffs of Yuuri's breaths on his neck, the near perfect molding of their bodies under the covers, and the wall that had been inexplicably knocked down by Yuuri himself had Viktor relaxed and happy. He was more than willing to take a short nap with his probably-boyfriend. If he didn't get any sleep at all, he was still happy because he would be able to watch Yuuri sleep. He'd be able to take in the personal space that Yuuri hadn't demanded his exit from, the typically grad student feel of the room from the clothes draped on a chair and the half dozen energy drinks on the desk. It had only been a handful of years since his own time as a student and he vividly remembered how exhausting it was. Sleep had been a commodity back then, blissful oblivion when it was earned after a grueling project and tight deadlines.

Viktor woke up to the sensation of a hand in his hair, mimicking his own actions hours before. Cracking his eyes open, he could see the blurry shape of Yuuri, dark hair, blue glasses, crooked smile slowly becoming clearer every time he blinked. He couldn't stop the yawn that escaped him.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Yuuri chuckled. He was propped up on an elbow, looking down at him.

"What time is it?"

"About two-thirty."

Viktor sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and dragging his palms across his face. The comforter drops from around him, exposing him to the air conditioned chill. "I definitely didn't mean to sleep that much. How long have you been up?"

Yuuri shrugs, sitting up like Viktor and stretching his arms. "Maybe ten minutes. I had to convince myself you were in my bed, honestly."

Viktor barked a laugh. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Well," Yuuri hesitated. Like he always did when the topic of the two of them came up. "I mean, I'm me. You're you. Have you seen you?"

Frowning, the older man turned his body more to face Yuuri. It was a little awkward, they each had to shift to make room for one another before sitting across from each other on the mattress, legs crossed, knees touching. He chased the other man's hand, ignoring the hesitance when he attempted to take it, twining their fingers together.

"I have seen you, Yuuri. I've seen this face for almost three decades, it's not that great. You, however. Did you know why I started talking to you at the bar back in May?"

"Boredom?" Yuuri deadpanned.

"Hush." Viktor frowned. While an endearing trait in some aspects, Yuuri's pessimism and self-depreciation was a little irritating. Especially whenever Viktor would try to explain why he was so drawn to him. "You were sitting in that booth with Phichit, face flushed because clearly he was peer-pressuring you into drinking. But your smile was there still. It looked like you were still enjoying yourself because you were with a friend. I loved that smile. I came over to flirt with you, quote something cheesy and see if I could get you to drink with me, smile at me instead. Then, out of the blue, you call me out on my bullshit. Straight shoot me, nail me and my favorite playwright. The more you argued with me, countering me with some of the greatest writers of all time, the more I was attracted to you."

Yuuri opened his mouth to argue, but Viktor quickly clamped a hand down on his lips, silencing him in the same way he'd once been when they first me.

"No. It's my turn to talk." Viktor's eyes were serious, waiting for Yuuri to agree. When he nodded, Viktor continued.

"Between your intelligence, that seductive face, those legs that I have a hard time keeping my eyes off of, and that equally tempting butt of yours… To me, you're the whole package Yuuri. Why wouldn't I want to be around you? Date you?"

Yuuri didn't waste time disputing Viktor's claims. "I'm chubby, no surprise since I'm constantly working and studying and barely have time to work out. My constant anxiety, I'm nerdy as hell… I wear glasses!"

"You wear glasses? Since when?"

Yuuri shoved Viktor's shoulder, frown deepening. "Viktor-"

"No, Yuuri. You. Those might be faults you think you have, weaknesses, but everyone has faults. I'm exceptionally pushy and rude, I snore." he was interrupted with a muttered, "I know," but kept going. "And I apparently have a thing for chubby, far-sighted Japanese men who can't take a compliment and don't understand when I'm pouring my feelings out for them! I like you, Yuuri. A lot!"

The two stared at each other, the room silent. Viktor's breathing was slightly heavier, mouth set in an angry mou while Yuuri looked to be warring with thoughts in his mind. Viktor took his other hand and brought the two of them together, sandwiching them between his own palms. Keeping his eyes locked on Yuuri's, he bent down slightly and placed a kiss on the tips of his fingers.

"Whatever it is we've been doing, I want to keep doing it. I want to do more with you. I want to actually date you."

Silence.

"Be my boyfriend, Yuuri!"

Then.

"I… I need to go."

"Yuuri?"

But Yuuri ignored him, scrambling off the bed and taking off out of the room. Viktor was frozen until he heard the front door slam, following suite out of the room and running into Phichit in the doorway. "Where did-"

"What did you do?" Phichit looked angry, head whipping back and forth from the door to Viktor. "He was crying! What happened! I left here this morning, telling you to ask him to be your boyfriend, not send him into hysterics!"

"I… I just asked him if we could be official." Viktor's voice was small, sounding as defeated as he looked with his wrinkled clothes, bedhead, and lowered eyes.

Phichit stayed silent, surprise written across his face. The silence rang in the room, silence Phichit wasn't comfortable with. Despite his shock at the situation, he was the first to say something. "Viktor, it'll… Wait, are you crying?"

"I think I need to go."

Thirty-Fifth Night

Yuuri had been avoiding Viktor. No beating around the bush, no sense in faking it. They hadn't spoken in nearly a week. Phichit, sensing the issue, didn't bring it up, but he also seemed a little put out with Yuuri as well, not hanging around the house after breakfast like usual and coming back after dinner.

He was avoiding, running away. That was fine, it was what he did best.

Besides, the TA assignments were sent out that morning and Yuuri had yet to open his. He had other things to worry about. Things that would present themselves, fangs and all, immediately instead of drawn out like a string to be snapped in tension. Yuuri sat at their shared dining room table, dinner long since cleared, fingers ghosting over the keys of his laptop, hesitating to open the email from the school. A deep breath and eyes screwed shut, he tapped the trackpad and counted to ten before prying his eyes open and squinting at the screen.

Yuuri Katsuki,

Congratulations on being selected as a Wayne State University teaching assistant! We apologize for the delay in receiving your assigned professor. We have had the privilege of sending off four long time professors of higher education this summer as well as taking on five new staff members, eager to become a part of the Wayne State Warrior family.

We say goodbye to Ralph Polski, PhD. from the biology department, Janice Jones, from the law department, Amanda Harding from the English department, and Shiro Nakamura from the linguistics and foreign studies department. We hope that their future endeavors are fruitful and we wish them the best.

Please join us in welcoming the newest staff, Gretta Helmsburg to the science department, Grace Kim to the law department, Viktor Nikiforov to the English department, Christophe Giacometti to the linguistics and foreign studies department, and Britney Seig to the humanities department.

As you are a linguistics major, you would normally be assigned to a professor from that department, however, with the recent vacancy left by Mr Nakamura, we found ourselves at a loss who to partner you with. Thus the delay, to which, again, we apologize.

Considering your major, we have decided to pair you as an assistant to Viktor Nikiforov in the English department. Mr Nikiforov's contact information can be found at the bottom of this email for questions. We are holding a get together for new staff, professors and their teaching assistance next Thursday evening at Dean's Hall for drinks and getting to know our newest Warriors.

Any questions can be directed to your advisor, the registrar office, or your paired professor.

Best wishes,

Ishtar Salman

Surprisingly, his first thought wasn't the horrific realization that he had been paired with Viktor. No, it was that he had been put in a completely different department than his own. How was that going to help him get his degree? Did they even think about that before they paired him with the first teacher that crossed their mind? He scanned the email again, noting that, while Nakamura had left, Yuuri knew the man had wanted to head back to Hokkaido over long talks about his thesis and it looked like he finally decided to take the plunge, they had a new professor to take his place. Christophe Giacometti. Why hadn't they given Yuuri to him? Had this been Viktor interfering with things?

He needed to speak with the office who did this. He needed answers. Unfortunately, the registrar's office was closed at seven thirty, so he'd have to settle for morning. They had a small window on Saturdays when they were open, he'd have to head over early.

That morning, hour twenty-two for Yuuri of being awake (it wasn't safe for him to go to bed, he couldn't trust himself to wake up that early). He knew he looked less than stellar, sweats and one of his more baggy shirts hanging off his shoulder, bags under his eyes, and unbrushed hair, he cared very little when all he wanted to do was either catch a third wind or go to bed. He was there less than fifteen minutes before he got to speak with someone and seventeen minutes in, he was raising his voice.

"I don't understand why I would be paired in the English department, though. Isn't the point of the TA program to gain experience and knowledge from the professor in your chosen degree?"

"Mr Katsuki, I understand the concern. Your case is unique. Considering you're earning a linguistics degree, we figured English would be a fitting substitute. Especially with Mr Nikiforov. He'll also be teaching one each of 100, 200, and 300 level classes for that department. Those are the classes you'll be assisting with unless you wish to also help in the other department. And if that's the case, we are willing to offer you a slightly larger salary. This is why it took so long to get the assignments out. We took great care in thinking things over. We didn't want to revoke the offer of TA from you."

"What about that new teacher, Giacometti. Why isn't he taking on a TA?"

The woman smirked, glasses glinting in the office light. "He's young, new. We can't force a professor to take on a TA and he refused one. He'll learn for next year." She paused, glancing to her door before looking back to Yuuri. "Are you refusing your assigned professor? If you do, we won't have a position for you until after the new year at the soonest. More likely next fall. Do you have a problem with Mr Nikiforov that maybe we should talk about?"

Yuuri shook his head with vigor. "No, no! I have no problem with him. I'm sure he's a great teacher. I really am just worried at how this affects my degree. This is the last thing I have to do before I graduate. I don't want that put off because my TA position was misplaced."

"You'll be fine, Katsuki. I swear. We made sure it wouldn't affect you negatively. Do you have any other concerns?" Yuuri shook his head. "Good. I'll see you with the others on Thursday then." She smiled, signalling the end of the conversation.

After Yuuri left, the woman let out a sigh and called out, letting her voice reach beyond her doorway. "Chris. Viktor. You're both very nosy."

Viktor had the decency to look sheepish, which Christophe Giacometti just smiled and gave a wave before they both set off down the hall.

Forty-First Night

Viktor saw Yuuri across the room, looking as uncomfortable as always in public settings where one on one time was required. He was hovering around the open bar, eyes darting back and forth as if he couldn't decide whether it was okay to drink. He felt a pang of sympathy, knowing Yuuri would be more comfortable with the liquid courage, but what came from his mouth would be more candid. He wanted to go to him, take his hand, be his designated drink counter. But he promised himself he would give him time. Later, there was planned time for professors and their TA's to meet, get to know one another. He'd reach out then, just to check in on him.

Well, that went differently than he'd planned.

Yuuri gave him little wiggle room, acting as though they'd never met. He was back to the shy man he claimed he was. They discussed the plans for Yuuri's job, grading tests and quizzes, smaller assignments, creating premises of papers with supervision, and Yuuri even agreed to grade the English assignments of Viktor's undergrads. Yuuri would have his own office, across the hall from Viktor's, usually reserved for the teaching assistant, as well as a desk in the lecture hall and classrooms Viktor would be using each day. Viktor wanted one day a week where they would confer about students and assignments, go over the syllabi, and find out what they could be to keep the students interested.

Outside of these topics, Yuuri had little to say. He didn't rebuff Viktor's attempts at conversation. They would be quiet, one or two word answers, little eye contact. His shoulders stayed hunched the entire conversation, waiting for something. Like he expected a scene, for Viktor to rebuke him in the hall full of his peers and Viktor's colleagues. To keep Yuuri from having a panic attack in a room full of half drunk academics, he kept his tone light, his smile soft. He tried to convey to him he wasn't angry, that Yuuri was fine.

When the TA and professor meetup was finished, Yuuri seemed to bolt, heading straight for the bar. It was all Viktor could do to only sigh as Chris got his attention, sliding up to him with a glass of wine in hand. Chris patted his shoulder in sympathy.

"Viktor, you look like a kicked dog."

"I'm exhausted."

"Mm. Let's get drunk tomorrow, for old time's sake."

Viktor only took a moment to think about it, glancing at Yuuri who was downing a second glass of champagne. "Fine. I know a place."

"Fantastic."

When he saw Yuuri duck out, he whipped out his phone, sending a spur of the moment text to the younger man.

What if I say I shall not wait? What if I burst the fleshly gate And pass, escaped, to thee?

He hoped Yuuri appreciated the lack of Shakespeare and the use of who seemed to be his favorite poet.

Forty-Second Night

Yuuri was going to murder Phichit.

There was no way he didn't know.

They sat in the same booth they'd camped out in months before, same sides, same food in front of them. Yuuri refused to drink like the fish Phichit thought he was. Instead, he let his friend drink to his heart's content, nursing the first beer his roommate ordered him over an hour ago.

And it was while he took a sip that he looked up, seeing a familiar head of platinum at the bar. The same seat as the last time Yuuri had spotted him in his drunken haze. He nearly choked, having to beat on his chest to subdue the coughs that wracked his body. He could still smell the bitterness in his sinuses, taste the bile that came from trying to not suffocate. He glared at Phichit, who was too concerned with digging into the chili cheese fries he'd ordered to pay any attention to Yuuri's dirty look. Attention back to Viktor, he could see he was with Christophe Giacometti and clearly inebriated.

Are they on a date? he wondered, frowning. Had Yuuri waited too long to respond to Viktor's confession?

Feeling sick, Yuuri stood and tried to head to the men's room without being noticed by either man. It was on his way back, having splashed cold water on his face and talked himself into not leaving Phichit to his own devices to find his own way home, that he was blocked by a large group of bar attendees and had to stand just around the corner from where the two sat.

"Chris, why is Yuuri ignoring me?"

"Yuuri seems kind of timid. Like a fawn."

"He's not a fawn. He's seduction. He's got so much eros, it hurts. It hurts because he doesn't know what he does to me….. I'm going to text him."

"Don't text him. Wait, what are you typing?"

"Poetry. Yuuri loves poetry."

"Viktor, stop… Don't bite me!"

Yuuri jumped, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, it was a text from Viktor.

Ay, in the very temple of Delight

Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,

Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue

Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;

His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,

And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

For the first time, Viktor had given Yuuri literature that wasn't pure romance, words to attempt to lure. It was a reflection of what was very obvious a pining Viktor. Even in his drunken whining, Viktor remembered that Yuuri was a fan of John Keats. One of the few who did write on love that he could appreciate without heaving a sigh. Why Viktor chose this part of the poem, he'd never know. But that drunken Viktor could type this perfectly, it showed how solid literature was in Viktor's veins. Why he was indeed teaching for a living.

"I can't believe you sent that."

"I miss him."

"I can tell you like him. I'm surprised you only met in the beginning of the summer."

"No.

"No? You don't like him?"

"Chris, I love him."

"You can't love someone you just met. What are you, a Disney princess?"

"Shut up. You don't understand. You haven't talked to him. Have you seen him?"

"I did. Remember?"

"No! You haven't seen him! When he wears this old shirt and you see his collarbones. When he's eating something he's really enjoying. He loves the photos of Makkachin! ...I miss Makka. I need to send for her..."

"...You really are in deep."

"Chris! His ass!"

"What?! What about it? Don't shake me!"

"It's perfect! It just doesn't quit!"

"But isn't he a little chubby?"

"I don't care. His ass. His everything. He's perfect. I love him."

"You love Yuuri."

"Mmm. I do. I love Katsuki Yuuri."

Yuuri poked his head around the corner, mouth agape, eyes wide. He immediately caught Chris' eye, flushing deeper when the man winked a green eye at him. He jerked his head slightly, indicating for Yuuri to come closer and there was only one thing for him to do.

Come closer.

He slunk around the group who'd blocked him from going back to his table and walked up to Chris and the drunk Viktor, gasping when a hand grabbed his wrist and dragged him closer still.

"Don't be shy. How's it going, Yuuri?"

"Yuuri?"

Turning, Yuuri's brown eyes met Viktor's blue. His jaw dropped seeing Viktor's face splotchy and red, wet eyes. Viktor's expression was similar to Yuuri's, shock, disbelief. He reached a hand out, as if trying to see if Yuuri was really there and not just a ghost. His shoulder's slumped in relief when his fingertips brushed against his cheek.

"Yuuri, you're here! Did you get my text?"

Yuuri hummed. "I did. Are you okay, Viktor? Have you drank too much?"

Behind him, Chris answered that. "Nah, he's had a few, but we've been here awhile. He just has a lot of feelings for Katsuki Yuuri and his ass that doesn't quit." Another wink, causing Yuuri to flush deep again.

"Viktor, what are you doing?"

"You haven't talked to me for two weeks. I've been sad." Viktor, inebriated and stripped candid because of it, was a picture of defeat. His voice was soft and he could barely be heard over the other patrons.

Yuuri had a sinking feeling in his gut, knowing he'd made Viktor this way. His own insecurities had not only affected himself, it put uncomfortable tension between himself and Phichit, and worst of all, it hurt Viktor deeply. To the point where they'd avoided one another as much as possible, where he barely attempted to contact Yuuri, to give him space. He made Viktor cry . He'd made a grown made of twenty-nine cry.

"Viktor-"

"Shh. I'm thinking." Viktor's hand covered Yuuri's mouth, not unlike weeks ago when they'd first met. He couldn't help the pout that puckered his lips, hidden behind the palm.

"Don't hurt yourself," he heard Chris joke, but ignored the other man.

He watched the gears behind Viktor's eyes turn and twist, the emotion that flit across his face. The noise of the room seemed to dull the more he stared. Viktor seemed to mutter to himself in another language.

Was that Russian? What is he…

"Yuuri."

"Viktor?"

"I'm only going to say this once! Pay attention!"

Yuuri let out a gasp, his groan of surprise muffled by the sudden press of Viktor's lips on his, his face held between Viktor's two hot palms. He felt a sense of deja vu as his body automatically responded. Eyes shut tight, Yuuri had to reach his hands out, to find an anchor to keep himself from falling to a puddle of Katsuki-goo or floating away past the buildings of Detroit and towards the sky. He wasn't sure which would happen but he was determined neither would take him away from the sensation of Viktor and his tongue as it invited itself into his mouth. Hands on the crisp material of Viktor's shirt, he dug his fingers into the material as if they wanted to be sure it was Viktor under them.

"Oh my god, Yuuri! Get it!"

"Mon dieu, Viktor. Tres chaud!"

They both ignored their friends, pulling each other close. The closest they'd ever been, despite the first time they'd drunkenly made out and the handful of instances where they locked lips and hands; at the movies, in the entryway of Yuuri's apartment, the one time on campus late night under an oak tree.

Hot hands.

Hot breath.

Hot lips and tongue and spit.

It was getting rather hot in the bar, wasn't it?

Yuuri had to pull away, dizzy from the lack of fresh oxygen and the heat generating between them. He knew he looked similar to Viktor: glazed eyes, red face, saliva-slicked lips that were swollen from the battle between both pairs. Everyone had won that battle.

Except the bartender, who was looking less than amused.

"Take it elsewhere. Your place, the alley, the back seat of a car. I don't care. You're causing a scene. Again."

Apparently he was the same one from months before. Thus why he was looking less moved than others around them, who were all smiling, wolf-whistling, and cheering them on like Phichit and Chris.

Viktor chuckled. "Yuuri's too good for the back seat of a car. I'd at least wait until we got home." He winked, causing Yuuri to cover his face in embarrassment.

It was the first time they'd been in Viktor's place together. A smaller apartment building, room for just eight tenants in cosy one bedroom spaces. Yuuri was surprised at how… barren it looked, despite the fact that Viktor said he'd been living here since the holidays. A couch and coffee table, a flat screen television, and a pile of books, and papers strewn across the floor. He led Viktor to the couch, letting him drop himself onto the cushions and fall to the side with a sigh.

"Viktor, do you want water? We should probably get some in you."

"Mmm… Yeah. There's bottles in the fridge."

The kitchen was reminiscent of the living space, a microwave, fridge, a dirty bowl in the sink and a glass half empty on the countertop. Opening the fridge, Yuuri wasn't even surprised to see barely anything in it. Bottles of water, beer, condiments. Grabbing a bottle, he quickly shut the door and made his way back to the older man.

"Oh god, what are you doing, Viktor?!"

"'M hot," he muttered.

The man was half naked, shirt gone, jeans around his ankles. He was wearing only black briefs and his matching socks, trying not to topple on the ground from the balancing act he juggled in trying to get his pants off.

"Stop. Sit down, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"Yuuri, I'm hot…"

"I know hold on. Jeez, you're like a kid."

Yuuri managed to get Viktor's pants off of him, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it across him, despite the halfhearted protests he was given. As he turned to go, his wrist was caught in a soft grip.

"Will you stay?"

"Viktor…"

"I just, I just don't want to be alone. You're here, you're talking to me… Please?"

The alcohol was starting to fade from his system. Yuuri could tell that without the alcohol, Viktor was becoming more raw. As raw as he'd been the afternoon he laid his feelings on the bed. And Yuuri had stepped on the in his haste out of the apartment. Swallowing the lump in his throat, it was all Yuuri could do but nod as Viktor responded by making space on the couch for him. And if the couch was a tight fit for Viktor and his size, it was zero personal space and every inch of body against one another when Yuuri added himself.

"Can we talk in the morning?" Viktor whispered into Yuuri's hair.

"Yeah."

"I love you, Yuuri. I just want you to know."

"I know."

Forty-Third Night

Yuuri made Viktor put clothes back on that morning, though at lunch they were both without. By the time they made it to the bedroom, there was no time to contemplate taking off their pants.

Fighting. Yelling, pointing fingers and accusations.

Crying. So many tears. Open weeping. Silent trickles brushed away quickly.

Hugging, squeezing tight. Arms loose, not wanting to trap them in, but saying they didn't want them to go.

Pecks on the forehead, the cheek. Simple exchanges on the lips.

Something deeper. More. Lips and tongues and teeth and breathlessness. Moans with wandering hands. A knee between the legs.

Against the wall, falling on the couch. The cold floor. Laughing

Eventually making it to the bedroom, skipping dinner.

Only chasing the need, the tight coil. The itch along their skin and that heat in their guts.

Pressure, skilled hands. Fingers and palm unsure. Breathless laughs and the wet smack of lips, of skin sucked on and the intake of breath at the pleasure.

Slow, slower. More, more, Yuuri.

Viktor, please .

The morning was ruined underwear, chuckles, and Yuuri's admonishment at the lack of food.

One Hundredth Night

Days before Halloween and Yuuri could say he was getting restless. The school was planning on a three day weekend and he was more than ready, much like his peers in the TA program. He wasn't the only one, if his scan of the lecture hall was anything to go by. It was one of Viktor's larger classes, teaching the classics to undergrads. A room of almost sixty, most looking bored or fidgeting with their notebooks or phones. It looked like Viktor was close to the end of his rope as well. He was already sitting on the edge of the desk only thirty minutes into a normally hour and a half class. It was a sure sign he'd be letting out early and it looked like several of the students had picked up on this habit as well.

"Here's the thing," Viktor began, leaning on one thigh. "I'll give you guys options. Either we can leave early today and that means you'll have extra time for your papers. An extra weekend. But that means I won't accept late work. Your other option is we continue like normal and the paper is due by midnight Saturday with usual late policy terms. Take a second and we'll vote. And no, if you pick option one, turning it in to Yuuri late still doesn't count." He glanced to Yuuri as some chuckled.

"Hey, I'm just here to grade papers, I don't set the rules!" he joked, raising his hands in defence, smiling at Viktor and the students. "Do I get to vote?"

"Nope." Viktor cut him off immediately, standing and turning to the class. "Okay. Show of hands. Who wants to leave early? ….And who wants to stay?"

"I think that was pretty clear cut," Yuuri laughed, leaning forward in his chair and balancing his chin in his palm. At least two thirds of the students had their hands up before being given the second ultimatum.

"Okay, majority rules. Just remember, you've extended the deadline to Monday before midnight. And no late papers will be accepted. Go on, get out and don't get into too much trouble!"

They both waited until the room cleared, answering questions for those who stayed behind. By the time the last student left and the door clicked shut, Viktor was already whipping off his suit jacket and collapsing into his desk chair.

"Don't know what it is, but I'm just drained."

Yuuri hummed. "Yeah, it's like cabin fever almost. Something in the air, maybe." He stood from his desk, stretching. "I'm gonna go get my stuff from my office and head out. Need anything else from me?"

"No, thank you Yuuri. I'll see you later?"

"Maybe." Yuuri winked, laughing at the pout on Viktor's face. "Relax. You're so ridiculous."

"That's why you keep me!"

"Something like that," he answered dryly. Ignoring the huffing and puffing of the teacher, Yuuri left the room, closing the door with a snap.

The air was crisper than he thought it'd be for four in the afternoon, but give it was late October, he had no room to complain. Despite his earlier reservations, he'd still come to campus prepared with his scarf and heavier peacoat. One could never predict Michigan weather. Six years in was plenty warning and Yuuri had learned that the hard way his second summer. The sky was already a warm shade of orange, the sky getting ready to let the sun set in a matter of hours, the sidewalk covered in a kaleidoscope of fall color from fallen leaves and crunching in his ears.

Should almost be time , Yuuri thought to himself as he continued towards the park. It was always a waiting game for one of them. The school knew of their relationship and the circumstances around it. They vowed to keep it away from the classroom and campus and agreed to be frequently checked in on. Both their studies and career depended on behaving until they could come home or be together on days off. So here he stood at the edge of the park, the wind taking more from the trees, waiting on Viktor Nikiforov. His boyfriend. Viktor, his boyfriend.

"Yuuri! Yuuuuuri!"

Viktor was running, face flushed from the combination of cold and effort from the sudden exercise, waving his hands to get Yuuri's attention. He certainly had it.

"Viktor!"

Sweeping Yuuri up in a hug, Viktor spun them around a few times, his excitement coming out in the form of making his boyfriend dizzy. When he realized his own dizziness, he slowed to a stop and put Yuuri back on the path with a grin.

"How was your afternoon?"

Yuuri shrugged. "Okay. I graded papers for the 225 class, grabbed something to eat. How was the staff meeting?"

Viktor grabbed Yuuri's right hand, threading his fingers with those on his left hand, leading them down the path. "Boring. Talk about what we might come across because of the holiday. The head of the department had a chat with me to try and drill it into me again to keep our campus life professional. As if we need the reminder. We are perfect."

"Mm. We have been good. Or, you have. I have restraint." Yuuri laughed at the betrayed look on Viktor's face. "What did you want to do for dinner?"

"What about our restaurant? The little family one? We haven't been there in ages."

"Hey Viktor?"

"What's up?"

"I've been thinking…"

Viktor looked down, curiosity written on his face. Yuuri crooked a finger, silently asking Viktor to bend down and meet him eye to eye.

"Yuuri?"

" O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.'"

Viktor blinked, stunned. Yuuri just looked at him, waiting. It took the older man a moment to realize what he wanted, but he was eager to reply.

"'Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.'"

"'Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.'"

"' Then have my lips the sin that they have took.'"

Yuuri grinned. "'Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.'"

Viktor didn't bother responding. Instead, he did exactly what was asked of him, kissing Yuuri senseless. When they broke for air, they were both pink cheeked and huffing for breath.

"That was Shakespeare." Viktor's eyes were wide, shining down at the shorter man.

"Mmhm."

"You hate Shakespeare."

"But I love you."

Neither could bite back the smiles that grew on their lips. It sounded so right, coming from Yuuri's mouth.

"I love you, Yuuri."

Yuuri would always argue it sounded better coming from Viktor's.

"So. 'Sin from thy lips' … We'd better do something about that, don't you think?"