Chapter Text
There are many things for Victor to thoroughly appreciate about his next-door neighbor beyond the striking upsweep of his jet-black hair, the perfect crescent moon that is his butt, and the gleam of his smile that brightens even the most rain-filled days. There’s that perpetual glitter scattered through his dark hair, the sweet cadence of his ‘Good mornings’ and ‘How are yous’, the sound of him practicing on his steel pan that Victor readily sways to over his morning coffee…
Yes, Victor is just about smitten with the beautiful islander, Yuuri Katsuki.
When Victor moved to the southern Caribbean six months ago, all he hoped for was a quiet life far away from the prying eyes of those endlessly prostrated at the feet of figure skating’s “living legend”. Now, more than ever, the title irks him. The collective opines of those who thought his retirement was too premature haunt him. “He should’ve worked through the knee injury. He should’ve shown resilience in the face of adversity” they said, as though their word was law and he was a common criminal.
The day he arrived on the island, the echoes of his final press conference lurked in the bags under his eyes and the vice squeezing mercilessly around his heart. The exhaustion was a shadow clinging to him, a peripheral reminder of one of the most trying years of his life. The taxi driver had to gently shake him awake when he finally made it to his new apartment, the tropical heat a formidable sedative.
And then, amid a world that had felt much too mammoth much too quickly, his backpack caught on the driver’s seat. He tugged and stumbled from the car…and fell deliriously into Yuuri’s arms.
It was a meeting for the ages. And now, seeing Yuuri every day across the fairly forgiving enclosure that trims all of the houses in their small gated community is a refreshing slice of heaven that sits on the rim of Victor’s otherwise habitual days.
Victor smiles at the memory. It’s pouring rain as he pulls into his assigned spot in the compound and shuffles out of his car, foregoing an umbrella because it’s leaning against the wall in his living room next to Moka’s kitty cave. His intrepid kitten loves pawing at the blue and white polka dots that adorn the large canopy. He snorts at that, peering into the backseat at his shopping bags, oblivious to icy water spilling over him until he hears a muffled grunt and then an outright hiss of ‘Fuck!’ from none other than Yuuri.
Victor quickly glances over his shoulder and sees the top of an umbrella two car spaces down fighting for life above a partially open door. Something must be stuck because try as Yuuri might, it won’t give him the time of day. Without the usual debates that plague him whenever he’s within Yuuri’s vicinity, Victor abandons his car and walks through the unrelenting rain to Yuuri’s own, knocking on the back glass in greeting when he’s near.
“Hey! Do you need some help?”
Yuuri peeks from behind navy blue nylon, his expression that was recently knitted with agitation, softening considerably when he sees him. “Victor! Yes, please, I think one of the, uh, pointy things is stuck.”
Victor chuckles, taking the stubborn thing from Yuuri’s damp grip and holding it over his head; a few well-placed jiggles and a hard slap, and it finally flourishes. “I think that should- oh fuck!” He flinches and flails, the umbrella swooping up as it turns inside out and pops right out of his hands. An unhelpful and particularly ferocious gust guides it over the wall and onto the main road, and all Victor can do is stare at the aftermath, jaw dropping at Mother Nature’s brazen sense of humor. It’s something he doesn’t share until Yuuri’s laughter cuts across his frazzled thoughts.
He looks incredulously at his neighbor who is pressed into the car seat, hugging his stomach as he succumbs to the stitches. His dimples are ever so ripe, and his eyes crinkle as he shakes his head and offers Victor a brilliant smile.
“We can be a matching pair then,” Yuuri says, stepping out into the rain and pushing his car door shut.
“Are you sure? I can get something from-”
Yuuri waves a hand. “It’s just rain, don’t worry. I’ll come back for my stuff later. Was there anything you needed to get from your car?”
“Not really.” Victor blinks, much too caught up in the trickle on the edges of Yuuri’s glasses. Not to mention that his thin white t-shirt is now completely see-through and water drips with a taunting delicacy from his lips. Victor has only been this close to Yuuri a handful of times and it’s making his hopeless heart whir hysterically. True to form, there’s a line of iridescent dust on Yuuri’s right cheek and Victor shoves both hands into his pockets, just in case he does something irreversibly stupid, like try to pick the dots of color off Yuuri’s rain-soaked skin. “It’s all dry goods. I can get to them later.”
“Great. Do you want a cup of coffee? Or tea?” Yuuri begins walking and Victor quickly falls into sync with him, an affirmative response to the unexpected invitation already driving his mind into a frenzy. “I have homemade pineapple rum if you’d prefer something stronger.”
“Sure,” Victor stifles a sneeze and rubs at his nose. “Not sure I deserve it after what I did to your umbrella…” He freezes and mentally kicks himself for his hastiness.
“Victor?” Yuuri rests a hand on his shoulder, rousing him from his stupor
“Yuuri, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot that I have a conference call in fifteen minutes. Rain check on the pineapple rum? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Duty calls, I understand.” Yuuri exhales and Victor tenses. Then… “How about tonight? My friends are hosting a small all-inclusive fete to show off some new designs for next year's Carnival. Would you like to come with me? Be my…my date?”
Somewhere inbetween the magic of the last few minutes, they arrived at Yuuri’s doorstep. Victor stares at the man, rolling the offer over in his mind like it’s some ancient puzzle. They had coffee before, chatting with each other as they stood in their respective backyards. But this...this is a generic Tuesday morning. They’re both soaking wet and clearly undiscouraged. And Yuuri, with his deep gaze and rain-slicked tan, casually asked out. On a date.
“That sounds amazing.”
“But…”
Victor’s eyes widen. “No buts, I swear. I’ve only ever been to one party here and it’s a hell of a story. I actually came home that night with Moka.”
“Oh? Will you tell me about it later?” Yuuri’s shoulders, momentarily hiked, relax considerably.
“Of course, anything you want.”
“Anything, huh?” Yuuri muses as he fishes for his keys. “I’m going to hold you to that. See you tonight, Victor.”
“Tonight…” Victor shelters under the awning outside of Yuuri’s unit, watching over him with fascination and disbelief as he heads inside. How easily the day turned on itself. Not one hour ago, all that occupied his mind was whether to cook, have leftovers, or order something in for lunch.
Now, he's strolling into his own home, absently bending to first rub at his aching knee and then, to pet a cheerful Moka. He barely notices her claws when she climbs all the way to his shoulder. His heart shares her enthusiasm; if it had a sound effect, he’s sure it would mirror Moka’s purrs. Victor presses a hand to his chest, breathing through the very sudden (and very welcome) excitement. There are quite a few hours between now and their date, he rationalizes. He really should calm down.
But Yuuri certainly doesn’t make that an easy thing to do, what with Victor always holding his breath until the ache rippled in his toes every time he saw him. Ever since he dropped the facade of ‘World Champion’ and assumed his true nature as an accomplished and relentless dork, well, only Moka seems charmed by the personality reveal. Finding a lover or even someone to warm his bed isn’t a priority. Although, waving energetically to Yuuri until there’s no distinction between his arm and a windmill does make him wish he worked out his romantic approach years ago.
Victor sighs, biting into his cheek as he takes a contemplative stroll into his living room. Would Yuuri care about all that? Would he care that Victor’s a livewire permanently crackling at the knee? Would it bother him that Victor’s a bit rusty in carrying a conversation or that he’s somewhat heavy-handed in expressing his emotions?
He glances to his right shoulder, tickling Moka under her fluffy gray chin. “Wish me luck, girl. I’m going to need it.”