Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oi, Victor! Open up!” Yuri pounded on the door to Victor and Katsudon’s St. Petersburg apartment, the side of his fist slamming into the heavy wood. Their neighbours probably thought he was mad at one of them -- again.

But if Victor ever got around to opening the fucking door, he’d see that Yuri wasn’t angry. He was upset.

“It’s open, Yurio.”

Katsudon? Was Victor not home?

Yuri pushed through the door, ready to demand to know where Yuuri’s husband was, before he froze in the entryway with a clear view of Victor’s living room.

Victor and Yuuri were tangled together on the couch, cuddling a pair of Delibirds.

A very obviously mated pair of Delibirds. The slightly pinker one cuddled into Yuuri’s side must be a female, while the larger one, whose coat was a bright red, clung to her the way Victor still clung to Katsudon after all these years.

“What the hell?!” Yuri demanded, his own dilemma momentarily forgotten by the sight of Victor fucking Nikiforov and Yuuri fucking Katsuki with POKEMON.

It was widely known that neither skater had ever had a partner Pokemon. Pets, yes. Pokemon no. It was unusual enough to go remarked on, especially with the advent of social media. Selfies of skaters and their pokemon were guaranteed fan-favourite shots, and Yuri had more than a few of him and Sasha on his own instagram.

But neither Victor nor Katsudon had ever shown any hint of wanting a Pokemon partner.

And then...this.

Yuri wanted to gag. Both Victor and Yuuri had that disgusting, soft, lovey-dovey look on their faces--and it was now mirrored by the two red, penguin-like pokemon sitting between them.

“Oh, Yurio! Come in. Close the door!” Victor waved him over, a goofy grin covering his entire face. On the one hand, it was nice to see his assistant coach happy, because that meant he was less likely to be a complete sadist tomorrow in practice.

On the other, it was just disgusting. Yuri slammed the door behind him, still staring at the scene laid out in front of him. Like something from one of those carefully orchestrated “candid” photoshoots the sports magazines were all after these days.

“This is Bert, and Bettina! What do you think of them?” Victor pointed to the larger red Delibird, and then the more delicate, pinky one.

Bert and Bettina?

“Have you gone completely insane?” Yuri asked.

Yuuri shook his head. He was squashed into the armrest of the couch by the pokemon and his husband, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“No, we’d been considering this for a while.” Well that was news. Most trainer pairs formed early. Yuri had found Sasha when he was seven. And most people who didn’t choose or find pokemon in their teenage years -- which was something like one in every five or six people on the planet -- ended up staying partnerless for life.

Yuuri kept going. “Actually, we were thinking of getting another dog. I still miss Vicchan and Makkachin could use the company. But these two were up for adoption, and with Phichit’s exhibition coming up, we thought why not just meet them?” He traded glances with Victor who nodded, a big smile on his face.

“And then this happened,” Yuuri waved a hand at Bettina, glued to his side like a limpet. “Obviously I couldn’t leave her, and we couldn’t leave Bert there without her, so…” Yuuri shrugged, a hapless “what can you do?” type smile on his face.

“So you adopted a pair of pokemon that are exactly like you and Victor?” Yuri spat the words out, annoyed more than anything. Now he’d have to deal with twice the disgusting mush.

A blush stained Katsuki’s cheeks as Victor’s smile grew even bigger.

“We did!” Victor said, hugging Bert. “Aren’t they perfect?”

“Aren’t you two performing Stay Close to Me?” Yuri crossed his arms over his chest, somehow keeping a scowl on his face while he raised an eyebrow. The exhibition version of the routine was a pair’s skate, easily performed by two world-champion figure skaters.

Adding untrained Pokemon to the mix seened like an invitation to disaster.

“We are! But imagine…” Victor waved his hands in the air, as if revealing a banner to an imaginary crowd. “Stay Close to Me -- with Delibirds!”

His eyes were wide as a joyous smile consumed his face, mouth going heart shaped the way it did when he truly loved something.

“The audience will be so surprised!”  Victor kept babbling, standing up to move about the room, talking excitedly to the air about the routine and the audience and how everyone was going to be blown away.

And this is the guy who was complaining that he had no inspiration 4 years ago, Yuri thought.

He looked over at Makkachin, curled up on his bed in the corner.

“And you’re okay with this?” he asked. The poodle gave a sleepy woof in response, greying fur rustling a bit as he rolled over, away from the madness.

Yuuri looked over at his husband with fond exasperation. “We don’t even know if they want to skate yet,” he said, gently stroking Bettina’s head. The affection he already held for the pokemon was clear.

“They just came home with us this morning,” he explained for Yuri’s sake, staring down at the bird with a soft look on his face. “We haven’t even taken them to the rink yet. And we’ve only got two weeks until the exhibition.”

The look Katsudon shot Victor was pointed. Clearly Yuri wasn’t the only one with reservations.

Victor shrugged and kept smiling. “They’re ice type pokemon, Yuuri. They’ll figure it out no problem!”

One hand pressed to his forehead as if to ward off a headache, Yuri sighed. “Whatever. I need help.” His face was grim, mouth a single, flat line. If he had to endure the gross domesticity of his assistant coach and his newly-retired husband to help him with this, he would.

Both men straightened, coming to attention. Yurio? Asking for help? This was unusual.

“It’s Sasha,” he said said. “She evolved.”

A nanosecond later Yuri was covered in Victor Nikiforov.

“Get off me!” Yuri pushed Victor away. He was only a few inches shorter than Victor now, having finally regained control of his body after a growth spurt at 17 that left him gangly and awkward on the ice for most of a season.

“But this is wonderful! The Ice Tiger of Russia and his gorgeous Ninetails will take the ice at the exhibition for the first time!” Victor danced around the room, arms outstretched as if gesturing to the crowd. The imitation of a choreographed dance sequence looked like drunken happiness.

“It will be glorious! The audience will be so surprised--”

“She won’t go near the ice.”

“Huh?” Victor froze in the middle of a spin, still en pointe.

Yuuri nodded sagely, both Delibirds now cuddled into him on the couch. “She is a fire type pokemon,” he said. “Didn’t it take you a while to get her used to the ice before?”

Yuri shook his head. “Not really. She just always came to practice with me because Grandpa was afraid she’d burn down the apartment if we left her alone all day.”

Although her fire powers did come in handy in the winter (his heating bill was ridiculously low), there had been a few incidents after Yuri had brought her home. He’d found her cowering in an alley between the rink and his house, fur matted and dirty, with one ear torn. They’d been inseparable ever since.

(There were still scorch marks on a few of the seats at his old rink in Moscow as proof.)

And while she hadn’t gone on the ice at first, she’d stayed near him. Now she wouldn’t even enter the arena.

“So you only just recently started skating with her?” Yuuri asked.

“Yeah, for Phichit’s thing.” The Pokemon On Ice Exhibition was a new, Bangkok-based ice show that Chulanot had organized. He’d planned a massive opening charity event, and had talked most of the senior level skaters into putting on routines with their pokemon. It was set to be the biggest ice spectacle the world had ever seen.

The grand opening was a charity event, with proceeds going to fund underprivileged athletes, a cause Yuri was happy to contribute to. (Though he’d never tell anyone. When Phichit had asked him to be part of the grand opening he’d said “Sure, I guess I could come” in his most petulant, teenage tone. The Thai skater hadn’t taken it personally. )

But now that his Vulpix had evolved Yuri’s entire routine was shot. Oh, and he’d have to start looking for a new apartment since his current one was a bit small for a three-foot tall fire-breathing fox.

Victor lay a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, and he looked up at the former world champion. All of the glee was gone, but his blue eyes were still soft and gentle. Understanding and supportive in a way that was rare for Victor, but was also one of the best parts of being his student.

“Yuri, it’ll be okay. Go home. Get some sleep. Cuddle Sasha. I’ve heard pokemon can be a bit grumpy after evolving. They do have new bodies and powers to adjust to, after all.”

Well if that wasn’t a direct hit, nothing was. Yuri had lost out on medaling entirely the year after his senior debut due to an ill-timed growth spurt a few weeks before the Grand Prix Final. He remembered what that felt like -- to be trapped a in body that felt too big and awkward and wouldn’t do what he wanted it to.

And Sasha was going through that right now. Internally, Yuri groaned. How had he missed that before?

“We’ll start working on a new routine tomorrow,” Victor promised.

“Okay. Thanks,” Yuri’s voice was gruff.  He waved goodbye to Yuuri as he left. The door clicked closed quietly behind him as Victor went back to his husband and their Delibirds.

Chapter Text

When Yuri’s phone buzzed that evening, he answered it immediately.

“Beka, I have no idea what I’m going to do,” he said, head flopping against the wall in his apartment as he answered the Skype video chat.

“It can’t be that bad,” his boyfriend said, smiling at him. Warm, coffee coloured eyes instantly soothing some of the anxiety. Beka just had that effect on him. He had from the first time they’d met -- well, the first time Yuri remembered them meeting.  

“It is,” Yuri insisted, hugging his knees to his chest with his free arm. “She wouldn’t even go into the arena this morning. Yakov gave me the day off to deal with it but…” Yuri trailed off.

On the other side of the screen, Otabek tilted his head, hair damp from his post-practice shower. After several years of friendship, and almost a year of dating, he knew Otabek’s post-practice routine as well as his own.

And Otabek knew Yuri’s silences like only his grandfather.

“You haven’t ever skated without her?” he asked gently.

Yuri shrugged a shoulder, his navy blue, boat-neck sweater slipping off one slim shoulder. “Not since I was like, four.”

Otabek raised an eyebrow at the obvious exaggeration.

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Okay fine, like, maybe eight. I don’t know. It’s been a long time,” he said. “It freaks me out not having her at the rink.”

“You worry about her.” That was his boyfriend. Too perceptive for his own good. But instead of getting angry and loud, Yuri’s heart melted like it always did for Otabek. Otabek was one of three people whose very presence could completely defuse Yuri’s normal “I’m-always-angry-and-rude-and-abrasive-so-just-fucking-deal-with-it” attitude. The second was his grandfather. The third was Lilia. (Because Lilia inspired in him the deepest possible respect and copious amounts of fear.)

Yuri nodded, free hand tracing patterns against the tiles on the wall. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, hiding his face in his knees.  

“We choreographed Welcome to the Madness overnight,” Otabek pointed out, running a hand through the damp strands of his hair. Yuri peeked through his lashes, watching his boyfriend move. The subtle ripple of muscles under the black tank top he wore made Yuri’s mouth water.

It was post Otabek’s post-workout shower, too which meant he was probably just wearing sweatpants. Hopefully the teal team Kazakhstan ones that hung off of his hipbones. Yuri had spent a week in Almaty right after the season ended and had taken those sweatpants off with his teeth...multiple times.

Yuri shifted uncomfortably on the toilet seat. It was the only place to sit in his bathroom and it wasn’t the most comfortable. It didn’t help that his skinny jeans were getting...ahem, skinnier.

“Yeah, but you were there to actually help me in person, not half a continent away,” Yuri said.

Otabek’s eyes narrowed. “Yura, are you hiding in the bathroom?” he asked.

“Huh?” Yuri straightened, shifting his phone so the camera only showed his face. Crap, did he catch the shower curtain in the background of something?

“No. Why would I do that?” The knee-jerk, defensive statement was almost definitely what gave him away.  

Otabek stared at him, brown eyes boring into his with implacable resolve.

Weaker men than Yuri Plisetsky broke under that stare.

“I have a grumpy, fire-breathing fox who’s big enough to eat me sitting in my living room,” he grumbled. “Not all of us have pokemon who are still cute and adorable”

“Ursa!” A small brown bear hurtled into view, jarring the camera and nearly knocking over Otabek’s laptop. Yuri laughed as his boyfriend juggled pokemon and laptop for a moment before the video refocused on Otabek’s face, his Teddiursa now seated on his lap, sucking on one paw.

“Hey, Ted,” Yuri said with a smile, waving at the little bear.

“URSA!” One paw still in his mouth, Ted reached out as if to touch the laptop screen and Otabek grabbed his arm. He’d already had to replace several laptops because of Ted’s claws.

“Yuri’s not here bud. Remember? We need to wave.” Otabek waved his arm for him.

“See? Like this. ‘Hi Yuri!’”

Ted nodded and pulled his paw out of his mouth, waving with one while Otabek waved with the other.

Yuri laughed. They were absolutely fucking adorable.

“So you’re hiding in the bathroom from your Pokemon,” Otabek said once Ted snuggled into his lap.

Yuri shrugged. “She growled at me when I fed her dinner so I’m giving her some space. She hates water so I figure I’m safe in here.”

“Yura,” Otabek’s voice was soft. “Do you really think she’s mad at you?”

Yuri sighed. “No.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Yuri spoke again.

“Katsudon and Victor got a pair of mated Delibirds,” he said, staring at the ceiling. There was an old water stain he hadn’t noticed before. Probably from the apartment above his. Hopefully the landlord wouldn’t notice when he moved out.

Otabek laughed, the sound soft and rich. “You’re kidding.”

Yuri shook his head. “I wish I was. Their pokemon are just as disgusting as they are.” He shuddered and Otabek rolled his eyes. He knew that Yuri didn’t really hate public displays of affection. He just disliked the...enthusiastic nature of Victor and Yuuri’s relationship.

“Are they skating with them?” Otabek asked, shifting into a more comfortable position. A glimpse of teal waistband caught Yuri’s eye at the edge of the screen and he grinned.

“If they can get them trained in time,” he said, staring at the exposed strip of skin between the teal sweatpants and Otabek’s black tank top.

Yuri looked up to change the subject and Otabek was smirking at him. Yuri was just about ready to strip down and have Skype sex and forget about having to build a new routine around a Ninetails who growled at him whenever he walked by and wouldn’t set foot in an ice rink but someone apparently--

“Are you really going to let Victor and the other Yuuri beat you?” Otabek asked.

“God damn it, Beka.” He hadn’t been thinking of this as a competition but the minute the words were out of his boyfriend’s mouth Yuri had to win. There was no way he was letting Victor fucking Nikiforov and Yuuri fucking Katsuki show up at pokemon-on-ice exhibition and pull off a routine with brand new pokemon while he had to perform solo .

The soft chuckle floated through Yuri’s phone and wrapped around him like a warm embrace, echoing slightly in Yuri’s bathroom.

“You’ll do great. I know it.”

Yuri smirked back at his boyfriend. “Now that that’s taken care of,” he said, spreading his legs and adjusting the camera angle, “I have one last request…”

---

One orgasm and a quick shower later Yuri crept out of the bathroom. He peeked around the corner and out into the living room.

It took him a second to remember that the white beast in the middle of the floor was Sasha. He was so used to her being a small red fluff ball that that elegant, cream-coated creature on his living room floor was jarring. He’d known she’d evolve one day but confronting the reality of it was completely different.

Yuri watched her for a moment, her chest rising and falling as she slept. A paw or tail twitching occasionally in her sleep. She was curled up on a pile of blankets he’d thrown down for her that morning now that her old bed was too small. She’d pulled them into a nest beside the couch, effectively blocking access to Yuri’s kitchen.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten all day, too busy dealing with this strange new form of hers. She still had that little nick on her ear, though. The evolution hadn’t changed that.

As quietly as he could, Yuri tiptoed over to her, trying not to wake her. He’d been exhausted and miserable during his growth spurt. She probably just wanted to sleep.

One baleful red eye cracked open. Yuri froze mid-step, not sure what to do. Last time he’d come near her, she’d growled at him, but given what Victor had said earlier…

She did look tired. And kinda sore.

Yuri knelt down beside her, holding out a hand for her to sniff. She chirped softly and nuzzled at his fingers. He stroked her head, seeing the lines of tension around her eyes and the dullness of her stare for the first time.

Even with all these blankets the floor couldn’t be comfortable. Not if she was in pain.

“Come on, girl,” he said, rising to his feet, coaxing Sasha up along with him. She wasn’t quite limping, but her movements were stiff and tentative. Yuri kept a hand tangled in her fur as they walked, both for stability and reassurance.

Pushing open the door to his room, Yuri guided Sasha up onto the bed. Right now, it was the only thing big enough -- and soft enough -- to hopefully offer her some relief.

She didn’t protest, just slowly climbed up, one paw at a time, and nosed her way under the covers. After a few moments, her breathing evened out and Yuri crept out of the room.

He’d sleep on the couch tonight. But first, he was going to call the Pokemon center and see if there was anything else he could expect.

Chapter Text

One week later Yuri still didn’t know what he was going to do.

Sasha had, grudgingly, come back to the rink with him yesterday. But she was still refusing to leave the heated lobby.

He’d even bought her a sweater and everything. No matter what he did, she refused to move into the arena proper. She waited there for Yuri the whole time he was practicing, and the staff said she stayed out of their way, but it still bothered him. There was an empty space on the boards where Sasha should be.  

Yakov wasn’t having any of it and had ordered Yuri back to practice.  

He was leaving for Bangkok in three days and he still didn’t have a routine.

He was sitting on the boards, staring at the ice when his phone rang. Everyone else had filed out ages ago, and he just kept sitting there in an empty rink, goosebumps rising on his arms as he cooled off.

He had absolutely zero ideas for how to get Sasha back out on the ice with him. Let alone fix the choreography to account for her new size. Yuri had planned the rock and roll routine around Sasha breathing fire at him, but something in his gut told him that having a Ninetails -- especially a newly evolved one -- breathe fire at him so he could skate through the flames was an epically bad idea.

Which was why, when he answered the phone, he said “Please just shoot me, Beka.”

“But then I’d be single and dating sucks.”

Yuri laughed so hard he had to grab the boards with his free hand to keep from falling off. Just when he thought he had Beka figured out he went and surprised him with a comment like that. His heart warmed and a smile spread across his face. Too bad it was a normal phone call, not one of their video ones so Beka couldn’t see it.

“I take it the routine isn’t going so well?” his boyfriend asked.

Yuri groaned. “I’ve got her in the rink but she won’t leave the lobby,” he said. “We’re supposed to leave in three days.”

Yuri’s voice cracked unexpectedly, the distressed pitch catching him off guard. He was more stressed out about this than he had realized.

He sighed, raking a hand through his long blond hair. “There’s no point in even trying to choreograph anything. If I can’t get her on the ice it’s useless.”

“What have you tried?” There was some background noise that Yuri couldn’t quite make out -- maybe traffic? Or people? He could barely hear Otabek over the sound.

“Everything, Beka! Treats, threats, more treats, rewards, pets, leaving her alone, staying with her. Letting her chase Georgi’s Crobat. Leaving Piotr out there with her.”

Yakov’s Granbull - Piotr - was a snarling, grumpy mess and as close to Yakov in Pokemon form as it was possible to get. He and Sasha had never gotten along, clashing almost as much as Yuri had with his coach. Except, more often than not, their confrontations had ended with Sasha flouncing off instead of sullenly slinking away like her master.

As for Georgi’s Crobat...she’d chased him the first day they’d arrived and hadn’t stopped since.

“What about those booties some of the other skaters use?” Yuri could practically hear Otabek’s shrug from the way his voice dipped. “Maybe her feet at cold?”

Yuri shook his head before remembering that Otabek couldn’t see him. There were specialty booties for Pokemon for cold climates, even some that provided traction on ice. But they were stiff, rigid, and Sasha had (repeatedly) torn or melted them off her feet whenever Yuri had tried to get her to wear them.

“We’ve tried them a few times. She hates them,” the despair in his voice made him sound like Katsudon. Damn. When had he gotten this pathetic?

“Hmm. Hang on, let me try something,” Otabek said before the line went dead.

Yuri pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a minute. “What the--”

Did his boyfriend just hang up on him? While he was in the middle of a--

A joyous wail drifted out of the lobby: “Ursa!”

No.

Yuri stood up.

It couldn’t be.

He sprinted for the doors, jaw dropping when he--

“You bastard!”

Otabek grinned. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“This is definitely a surprise,” Yuri said, stalking across the lobby and grabbing his boyfriend in a hug. Otabek’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and all the tension left Yuri’s body. He rested his forehead on Otabek’s shoulder, breathing in the other skater’s clean, spicy smell.

Home.

He smelled like home.

“It’s still weird being taller than you,” Yuri muttered after a moment. Otabek laughed, one hand caressing the back of Yuri’s neck.

“You can still be the little spoon,” he said, placing a kiss on Yuri’s cheek. Yuri hummed.

It was an old exchange, one they hadn’t tired of yet. A late (final) growth spurt had shot Yuri up another couple of inches last year right after they had started dating. It hadn’t disrupted his season (much) but it had made things awkward for a while.

The burbling behind his boyfriend had Yuri looking up to see Ted, with a very serious face, making some complicated gestures while Sasha watched him. She chirped in response, nodding her head before growling softly.

Ted waddled up and gave her a hug.

Yuri chuckled. “Beka, look,” he said, nudging his boyfriend to turn around.

Beka laughed, keeping one arm wrapped around Yuri’s waist. Yuri slipped a hand in the back pocket of Otabek’s jeans.

“They’re adorable,” he said, pressing another kiss to Yuri’s temple. Yuri shivered and resisted the urge to turn his head and kiss Beka on the lips. He could kiss Beka for days but, while the sex between them was amazing, he had no desire to get caught in the act by rink staff...again.

“Ted, we’re heading into the rink,” Otabek said, louder this time. The little bear burbled a response, standing up from where he’d been curled up against Sasha. Grabbing the edge of her sweater, he started pulling her up, hind paws scrabbling against the linoleum.

“What--?” Yuri asked as his boyfriend turned them and started walking towards the ice.

“Trust me,” Otabek murmured.

Yuri sighed. “Well, nothing else’s worked,” he muttered.

Beka’s chuckle echoed throughout the empty arena.

-------

The annoying thing was, it actually did work.

Sasha had followed Ted into the rink and had curled up with the little bear in her usual spot on the mats. She even stayed when Ted joined Otabek on the ice to show Yuri their routine.

Which was completely fucking amazing. Even without the costumes or strobe lights Beka was planning to have. The break dance routine was perfect for them, upbeat and edgy, showing off just how cool Beka was (something Yuri had known for years but that everyone else seemed to have trouble seeing) and maximizing Ted’s frenetic energy.

Yuri whistled when they were done. Otabek skated over to him, Ted gathered into his arms. The little bear was about the size of a toddler and liked to be carried as much as one, too.

“That was awesome,” Yuri said before Otabek could open his mouth. “Did you do the music too?”

Otabek’s cheeks were flushed from his routine, but Yuri would have sworn they turned a deeper red. He nodded, gaze averted shyly.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes refusing to meet Yuri’s gaze.

Yuri sighed, blowing air up at his bangs as they fell in his face.

“I still don't think it's fair that you're such a great DJ and a world-class figure skater.” To be honest, Yuri didn't care that much, but he was a bit jealous that Beka knew exactly what he was going to do after retirement when Yuri had no clue.

“You're so fucking talented, Beka.”

Otabek didn't say anything. He just fixed Yuri with that piercing stare of his, like he was seeing all of Yuri, not just the parts he let everyone else see.

He shifted Ted to one shoulder, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind Yuri’s ear.

“I love you,” he said, resting his hand on Yuri’s cheek. The blond leaned forward on tiptoe to reach over the boards and brush their lips together.

“Thank you for coming.” It was small and quiet, and Beka knew those words were just as precious as the ones he’d just uttered.

He smiled back at the lithe blond boy -- now a man -- who'd started stealing his heart in a novice ballet class so many years ago. He could see the worry and fear shivering below the surface of Yuri’s composure and he shrugged, deliberately nonchalant.

“Worst case scenario you can always skate with us,” he said, boosting Ted into a more comfortable position.

Yuri smiled, a sardonic twist to his lips. “I might just take you up on that.”

“Have you talked to Phichit?” Otabek asked, stepping off the ice and cleaning off his blades one-handed. Clearly he’d practiced skate care while carrying Ted. It was rather impressive.

Yuri jerked a shoulder. “Not yet,” he muttered.

“Yura, he needs to know if you're not going to be able to perform,” the words are soft but Otabek’s tone is gently chiding. They’d talked about Yuri’s stubborn refusal to ask for help before, and how it only made things worse in the end.

“I can perform!” It was a sharp, tense comeback. A full-on denial of what they both already knew. He couldn’t--or wouldn’t -- perform. Not alone.

Victor and Yuuri and the Delibirds were just discouraging. The penguin-like pokemon took to the ice immediately and they were SO GOOD it looked ridiculously easy. Plus every other skater in the senior division was going to be there...with their Pokemon...performing.

What sort of loser would he look like if he--the favourite to take gold in every event this next season-- showed up solo?  No, Yuri would quit or feign an injury of some sort before he let that happen. Not in front of this kind of crowd. (Or that asshole, JJ, with his copycat Ditto. One JJ on the podium was enough, but two made him want to vomit.)  

Except Sasha still wouldn’t come near the ice...and he had no idea what to do for a routine now.

Beka looked at him, flat and unamused. Putting Ted down, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times before holding it to his ear.

Yuri groaned. “Beka please--”

“Hey Otabek! How’s it going?”

Phichit’s cheery voice floated from Otabek’s phone over to where Yuri had flopped down on the mats near Sasha. Yuri started gesturing frantically, making every non-verbal threat he knew to keep Otabek from telling Phichit what was actually going on.  

“Good. I'm in St. Petersburg. Yuri's having some trouble with his routine.”

Why did he have a boyfriend who didn’t understand basic handsignals!? Yuri seethed silently, glaring at Beka. The other skater ignored him, turning so that he was no longer looking directly at Yuri.

“Sasha evolved, so we need to change some of the choreography.”

Beka pulled the phone away from his ear as Phichit squealed in joy. Yuri smirked, fingers tangled in Sasha’s fur. Served Beka right for calling when he said not to.

“That’s awesome! Wow. Is Yuri there? I want say congratulations.”

“Sure.” Otabek stabbed the speakerphone button with a savage grin and held out the in Yuri’s direction. “Here he is.”

“Congratulations, Yuri!” Phichit’s voice blared from Otabek’s phone, tinny joy grating on Yuri’s nerves.  

“Thanks,” he grumbled.

“You don’t sound too happy. Is everything okay?”

“She won’t go near the ice,” Yuri said. “I only just managed to get her into the rink this morning,” he added as Beka came to sit beside him, phone held between them so they could both hear.

Beka stretched his legs out, throwing one arm around Yuri’s shoulders. He leaned into his boyfriend, still petting Sasha, whose head was on his lap. Ted toddled over and snuggled back into Sasha’s side, asleep in an instant.

“Hmm...yeah, she’s a Ninetails now, right? I alway sort of forget that she’s a fire type,” Phichit laughed. “The two of you are just so inseparable, on and off the ice. How much do you think the routine will change?”

“Uh…”

Yuri and Otabek exchanged a look.

“We're not sure yet,” Otabek said, cutting in smoothly. “First we have to get Sasha back out on the ice.”

Phichit hummed a sound of agreement, then sighed wistfully. “The concept you sent me sounded so cool, though. I was actually thinking of having you close. You know, go out with a bang.”

A bang made of rock and roll and a fire breathing Vulpix.  

“Yeah.” Yuri burrowed closer into Beka’s side. He didn’t want to think about it. His routine had been cool. Had. Past tense.

He loved Sasha dearly, but he did regret not getting to perform that routine at least once for an audience. He could already hear the screams and see JJ writhing with envy.

(He’d love to make Victor writhe with envy too, but the bastard always seemed to be delighted when Yuri surprised him, not jealous.)

“What's everyone else doing?” Beka asked.

Yuri blinked at him.

“Well, you’ve seen Victor and Yuuri’s routine, right?” Phichit asked.  

Yuri shuddered. “Don't remind me. They’ve been gross about it all week.”

“Has Mila shown you hers?” Phichit asked.

“Yeah, she wanted some help with making sure her Bellossom didn’t freeze,” Yuri said. He’d had a few pointers for her, more to do with Pokemon comfort than anything else. (He’d gotten good at reading when Sasha was getting cold and when she needed a break because it was too cold on her paws.) Her routine involved streamers and flowers and was actually pretty badass -- if not super girly.

“I just saw Beka’s,” he added. “It was great.”

Yuri could hear Phichit’s grin through the phone. “Good! Let’s see...who else do we have? Oh, Seung-Gil’s doing a magic themed routine with his Xatu. Chris and his Smoochum are doing a waltz. Emil’s doing a tap-dance style routine with his Aipom. And JJ mentioned something about...Garth Brooks? I’m not entirely sure.” Phichit laughed again.

“Those all sound...really different,” Beka said, a trace of hesitation colouring his voice.

“That’s why you’re all arriving early,” Phichit informed them, like the master planner he was. “So I can see all the routines and finalize the order.

“We’ve got pretty much everything in here, somewhere, so whatever you want to do is fine. I'm sure I'll be able to fit it in. Just keep it PG.” Phichit’s voice went sour, like was pulling a face on the other end of the line.

“I already had to rein Chris in and he won't forgive me if your routine is sexier than his.”

Yuri laughed. “I can do that. Thanks, Phichit.”

“Yeah, no problem. Oh, what time is your flight getting in?”

Yuri glanced up at Beka, watching for his boyfriend’s reaction. “I'm on the same flight as Victor and Yuuri,” he said.

“Me too,” Otabek said, squeezing Yuri’s shoulder.

“Great! I'm sending a car for them. I’ll make sure there’s space for you two as well.”

“Thanks Phichit,” Beka said, a glimmer forming in his eye as he said goodbye and hung up on the Thai skater.  

“Okay, what’s with that look?” Yuri asked, pulling away from his boyfriend and regarding him warily.

Otabek glanced at him with a false air of innocence. “What look?”

Yuri pointed a finger in his face. “That look. That’s one you gave me when you invited me to your parent’s house for a barbeque last summer.”

“My parents were holding a barbeque,” Beka said, completely deadpan.  

“With your entire extended family!” Yuri shouted. He wasn’t mad -- not any more -- just exasperated.  Sasha chirped, moving off of Yuri’s lap in a huff. Clearly he was moving around and yelling too much for her.

Beka laughed. “I have an idea,” he said. “But I’m not sure if you’ll like it.”

“At this point, I’m open to anything,” Yuri said, levering himself up from the floor and holding out a hand for his boyfriend. Beka took his hand, leaving their fingers tangled together as he stood. The same height as Yuri now that he was in his skates.

“You’re gonna look silly,” Otabek warned. Yuri shrugged. He’d worn a ridiculous yellow getup for his exhibition skate this year, at Lilia’s request. All fringes and ruffles, and so distinctly not him . His Angels had loved it, and it had suited the routine perfectly, but Yuri had never wanted to burn an outfit more.

“I can handle it,” Yuri said.

Chapter Text

Yuri was not handling this.

They were at the Aeroflot check-in counter and his boyfriend -- complete in leopard print hoodie and mirrored aviators, fresh take-out coffee in hand -- was yelling at the attendant.

“Listen, Lady, there is no way you’re putting my Ninetails in cargo.” Yuri jabbed a finger into the desk.

I mean...he does have a point, Otabek thought. Putting a Ninetails -- even one as well travelled as Sasha -- in cargo was not a good idea. While it was common for larger pokemon, and they did have a separate space for them in the hold, there was a reason most people didn’t fly with large pokemon. It was uncomfortable, cold, and most pokemon just didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry sir, we simply don’t have any other options.” Despite Yuri’s snarls the attendant, a petite blond with curly hair, remained pleasant and apologetic--and completely firm. “You booked for a Vulpix--”

“She just evolved,” Yuri snarled.

“And we do understand. Unfortunately, without advance notice--”

“Ah, Yurio! What seems to be the problem?” Otabek sighed in relief when Victor walked over, Yuuri, the Delibirds, and their luggage in tow.  

Granted, Otabek wasn’t doing much to help. He’d said barely two words to the attendant except to hand over his passport when she asked for it. Right now, though, his hand on Yuri’s shoulder was probably the only thing keeping the blond from crawling over the podium.

Otabek locked eyes with Victor for a moment, communicating with a head tilt and chin nod what Yuri was upset about.

Granted the Russian skater had known Yuri longer, so the blond spitfire’s anger was easy enough to figure out, but...

“They want to put Sasha in cargo,” Yuri said through gritted teeth, turning slightly away from the attendant (who somehow still had a smile on her face) to face Victor.

“I see. Let me take care of this.” Victor said, parking his suitcase beside the desk and pushing Yuri out of the way. Yuri sputtered but Otabek drew him back and off to the side, where Sasha and Ted were waiting.

One of the perks of hanging out with Yuri was Otabek never had to wonder where the little bear had gone. His crush on Sasha was massive, and had only gotten bigger since she’d evolved.

“Excuse me, hello,” Victor leaned over the desk, silver hair falling roguishly across his eyes. “I’m Victor Nikiforov. This rude young man is a dear friend of mine. Could you possibly help us out?”

Otabek stifled a chuckle. Yuri looked like he wanted to barf. Victor was batting his eyes at the attendant, roguish grin and silver hair all playing into his charm as he flirted with her. Low smooth tones punctuated by a giggle and some typing as they talked.

He squeezed his boyfriend’s shoulder as Yuri glowered at Victor. Those jade eyes turned to regard him for a moment and Otabek smiled, soft and understanding. The corners of Yuri’s eyes softened a fraction, some little piece of the anger slipping away as he covered Otabek’s hand with one of his own and squeezed back.

A few steps away, Yuuri looked faintly amused. As if it was normal for his husband to flirt with strange women while Yuuri stood there, minding a pair of Delibirds.

Actually, it probably was.

Minus the Delibirds, those were new.

Otabek had somehow managed to miss crossing paths with Victor and Yuuri for the last three days. Now, he was glad. When Yuri said the birds were exactly like Yuuri and Victor? He was right.

The slightly smaller pink one held Yuuri’s one hand, while the larger red one glommed on to her, clearly intent on never letting her go, even as she timidly sidled up to Yuuri, overwhelmed by the noise and crowd of the airport. The Japanese skater absently brushed a hand over the crown of her head and she nuzzled into his hand.

Looking up from his phone, Yuuri had a slight frown on his face. He was watching Victor’s back very intently--

“There we go, I think that should work. Yurio, what do you think?” Victor said, twisting to face them.

Huh?

“Huh?” Yuri asked

“With the upgraded seats, we can accommodate your Ninetails in the first class Pokemon lounge. Is is that acceptable?” the attendant asked, brighter and cheerier than ever. Though whether that was due to Yuri’s jaw dropping or being charmed by Victor, Otabek couldn’t tell.

Yuri stared at them. “Upgraded--Ow!”

Otabek dug his elbow into Yuri’s ribs, cutting the other skater off.

“That’s fine,” he said, speaking for the first time during this whole ordeal.  

“What?”

“Victor upgraded us to first class, so Sasha can go in the lounge,” Otabek murmured into Yuri’s ear. “She won’t be with us, but she’ll have space and she won’t be in cargo.”

“Right,” Yuri nodded. “Victor upgraded us?” Otabek rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, we have more frequent flier miles than we’ll ever use,” Yuuri said. Technically, they all did (the whole world-class athlete thing meant a lot of travel during the competitive skating season).

“Only because you go to Japan like every month,” Yuri said, flipping his hair and sipping on ihs coffee. Residual anger still simmered in his voice. Beka didn’t take it personally (and neither did Yuuri). It always took his boyfriend a little while to calm down if his anger had been thwarted.

Yuuri laughed nervously and ran a hand through the back of his hair. “Well, Victor does love the hot springs…” he said, shrugging.

Beka chuckled.

Yuri glared. He grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and started dragging him away from Victor and the other Yuuri, towards security. “Let’s go. If we stay around them much longer I’m going to barf.”

--------

Otabek had never flown first class before. Coach was usually good enough for him, economy comfort on the longer flights or if he was cutting it close to a competition and needed the room to sleep.

He might have to start springing for first class, though. The seats were huge, he had ample leg room. There was a separate (smaller) seat for Ted that the little bear climbed happily into, burbling and waving his arms around. Yuri sprawled out beside him, long legs tangled carelessly, limbs spilling into the aisle.

His boyfriend let out a contented sigh.

“I could get used to this,” Yuri said, reclining his chair and closing his eyes.They’d settled Sasha in the first class pokemon lounge already, Yuri promising to visit her once they’d taken the seat belt signs off. She’d just flicked one of her tails at them, as if telling them to go, leave her alone to nest in the pile of blankets and cushions her lounge cubicle contained.

“You’ll have to sit up for take off,” Beka said.

“Yes, Yurio, the attendants don’t like it when you recline during take off.” It was comical, watching Yuri’s eyes pop open to see Victor, smiling down at him. He and Yuuri were in the process of taking their seats --  the two right ahead of them -- with Bert and Bettina.

“What are you doing here?” Yuri growled.

“Oh, yes, I asked them to seat us all together!” Victor said, smile growing even bigger. “Isn’t it fun traveling as a family like this?”

“We’re not family,” Yuri said with a scowl.

Yuuri laughed awkwardly. “Let’s leave them alone, Victor,” he said, grabbing his husband’s hand and pulling him into the seat ahead of Yuri. The two Delibirds (presumably) sat on the pokeseats facing them. Ted looked up and waved, twisting around to follow them and nearly fell out of his seat.

Otabek leaned forward, catching the little bear and rearranging him on the pokeseat.

“They’re disgusting,” Yuri muttered as the other Yuuri and Victor settled into their seats.

Beka smiled. He’d learned early on that Yuri’s anger and disgust weren’t something to be afraid of. He’d thought the blond boy in his ballet class at training camp was beautiful. He’d kept an eye on the abrasive adolescent in the junior leagues. And he’d fully expected to be rejected when he offered the young man a ride in Barcelona.

But all of that anger was just armor. A default Yuri the world got to see. Beka could see the affection underneath it.

“It’s sweet,” Otabek said. “How much they love each other,” he elaborated when Yuri gave him a horrified look.

“Don’t you dare start pulling that shit with me,” Yuri said, voice low, eyes scanning to make sure none of the other passengers could hear them.

Otabek raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘ really ?’ He shot a glance over to Yuuri and Victor’s chairs, looked back at Yuri, and raised his eyebrow even higher.

Yuri jerked a shoulder. Sorry .

“This is all Phichit’s fault,” he said, which was Yuri Plisetsky for an apology.  

“Technically it’s Chris’s fault. He started the skaters-with-pokemon trend.” Otabek pointed out as they started to taxi away from the gate.

Yuri made a gagging sound. “Yeah, him and that Smoochum…”

Figure skaters (those with Pokemon, anyway) had been known to occasionally have their Pokemon with them at practice, sometimes even at competiton. But Chris had taken things one step further and brought his Smoochum onto the podium with him at the European Championships one year. He’d come in second (and Victor had taken first...again) but almost all of the media coverage had featured him and Bisou kissing his silver medal together.

The onslaught hadn’t stopped and soon almost everyone (except Victor, who didn’t have a Pokemon at the time) was bringing their Pokemon onto the podium with them. Yuri’s most famous one by far was a selfie of him and Sasha holding up his first Russian National gold medal with the two of them sticking their tongues out.

Sasha had been at the rink with Yuri regardless, so it hadn’t been much for him to get her to stand on the podium with him. But other skaters had wanted in, and had started bringing their pokemon along specifically for that purpose. Phichit was capitalizing on the craze for his new ice show.

“That’s true,” Yuri said, turning his sharp green eyes on Otabek. Years later, he still had the eyes of a soldier. Eyes that bore into your soul, hard and haunted but keen with it. Not lost or broken, but resilient because of the trauma.

Eyes that had seen -- and still saw -- way too much.

“Are you okay?” he asked, really looking at Otabek for the first time since they’d arrived at the check-in counter.

He’d been wondering when Yuri would see it. There really wasn’t anything he could hide from the young blond. They’d just never traveled together before, so it hadn’t come up.

Otabek sighed. “I don’t like airports.”

“You’re an international athlete,” Yuri pointed out. “You basically travel for a living.”

He shrugged. He hated explaining this part to people. They so rarely got it.  “There’s too many people,” he muttered.

Yuri sputtered, sitting upright and clenching the arm of his chair. “Too many -- Beka!”

“Shh!” Beka put a finger to his lips, jerking his head towards Victor and Yuuri in the seats ahead of them.

“You are a world-famous figure skater. And a DJ!” he hissed, careful to keep his voice down this time. “You perform in crowded arenas and packed clubs for thousands of people!”

He jerked a shoulder. “It’s a different energy,” was all he said. It was hard to explain why he disliked airports. It wasn’t that he disliked people, or large numbers of people. (Especially since his boyfriend dripped anger most of the time and both of his passions involved massive crowds.) But there was something in the energy of airports. The way people rushed around, frantic and anxious, never quite settling or letting go. It made him tense.

Once he was on the plane, it was fine.

But it was different from the roar of the crowd when you landed a quad loop or the gasps when you pulled off a breathtaking piece of choreography. Which was different again from the way people yelled and screamed and bounced with the beats -- his beats -- in a club. Losing themselves in the music.

It was so different from flying.

The speaker announced the final pre-flight safety checks, and Yuri pulled his chair upright again before slouching down in his seat, hood pulled over his face.

Otabek sighed. It was going to be a long flight.

---

Yuri jolted awake as the plane bumped. The cabin lights had been dimmed and everyone around him was asleep. Ted had curled up in Otabek’s lap, snuggling into his boyfriend’s arms in a way that made Yuri envious.

The plane bumped again and Yuri ignored it.

Just turbulence, he thought, shifting around in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He was used to these flights. And first class was a treat.

Except he couldn’t get back to sleep.

Even in economy, he was used to sleeping with Sasha curled into his arms.

As annoying as long distance flights could be, he always slept soundly when she was nestled in his arms. (And poorly when she wasn’t. Which was making the adjustment to her new size and evolution even harder.)

Sighing, he threw off his blanket (included with his seat because first. class. ) and stalked down the aisle, heading for the pokemon lounge.

It was nice, if a bit plain. Bare cream plastic walls, the same as the rest of the plane divided the space into cubicles. Each one holding blankets and pillows and other little items to keep the pokemon comfortable.

Sasha was curled up on top of a pile of crimson pillows, apparently unaffected by the turbulence. She looked up when he walked in, red eyes regarding him in a way that was both alien and intimately familiar.

“Hey girl,” he said, sitting down along one wall and stretching his legs out. “Comfy?”

With a twitch of her tail Sasha moved, shifting so she could lay her head in Yuri’s lap.

He smiled and started stroking her fur. Her purring was enough to almost send him back to sleep. Almost.

That little, gnawing worry inside of him kept him awake, even as his Ninetails slumbered peacefully in his lap.

He didn’t recognize her. Not really.

It still jolted him every time he looked over and saw a majestic cream-coloured giant fox instead of his tiny, fluffy red one.

She was so different now…

And it wasn’t just her size or the colour of her fur. No, it was the way she looked at him. The way she moved . Even after the pain and stiffness immediately following her evolution had faded, she moved differently. She was wiser, somehow, more graceful and poised. Aloof. Reserved.

Yuri had always thought of Sasha-the-Vulpix almost like a puppy playing with the embers of a fire.

Now, Sasha-the-Ninetails, was the fire. Leashed power held back at her whim. That was communicated in her every move, her every twitch and sigh.

It was beautiful. And terrifying.

Yuri no longer knew her, he realized, sitting there in the dark. The heat from her breath warming his thighs.

Could they even work together now ? he wondered. Would this beautiful, majestic creature deign to work with him? Would she even be able to perform? Her body was still adjusting. Or at least, that’s what the Poke-Center had told. Four to six weeks, they’d told him, until she was fully adjusted.

Maybe it was just the grace and beauty that was blinding him to that? She moved so well, so powerfully...different from before, yes. But that just meant she needed a different kind of routine.

Except...what if that wasn’t it?

What if she really couldn’t skate? What if that grace was just blinding him to something deeper?

Yuri’s throat tightened at the thought. Because here he was, two weeks after she evolved, trying to work a figure skating routine around her.

He just didn’t know .

And honestly, Yuri would do anything for her. If he knew what she wanted. What she needed.

The cream fur wasn’t just pretty, it hid her from him. He couldn’t tell what was new or different or what had changed because it was all hidden under this new coat.

Even as he blamed her fur he knew it was more than that. He knew he was questioning himself.

Did he even know his Pokemon anymore?  

He sat in the dark with that question for a long time, until the cubicle door slid open.

Yuri squinted up at the dark figure, list only by the emergency exit strip lights, guessing who it was based on build alone.

“What do you want, Katsudon?” he asked, careful to keep his voice soft and quiet so that he wouldn’t disturb Sasha.

“Victor woke up Otabek and is giving him the shovel talk again.”

Yuri groaned. “That old man just doesn’t know when to stop!”

Yuuri laughed. “He cares about you,” he said, leaning against the doorway.  

“Yeah, well I’m more likely to hurt Beka, than Beka is to hurt me,” Yuri said. “Seriously, how long is it gonna take Victor to get that through his thick head?”

He pushed up from the floor, carefully extracting himself from Sasha to not wake her up.

Yuuri shrugged a shoulder and stepped back to let the younger man through. “Personally I was hoping Bert and Bettina would keep his focus off of Otabek but that didn’t work.

“I honestly don’t think he means it, though,” Yuuri said quietly as they walked out of the lounge. “He likes Otabek, he just doesn’t know how to ask about your relationship.”

Yuri snorted in derision. “Our relationship isn’t any of his business.”

“I know that. And so does he. But I think it’s because he doesn’t know how the two of you work together,” Yuuri explained. “You’re always apart except for competitions and a few weeks here and there. I think he’s afraid that one of you will change and you won’t know how to ask for help.”

A half-smile quirked one side of Yuuri’s mouth. “I mean, we were together for months and couldn’t ask each other for help,” he said with a quiet chuckle.

Yuri stared at Yuuri, a little weirded out but also...kinda touched? Which just pissed him off. But it made sense. And it sounded like something Victor would do.

Yuri sighed and pushed past Yuuri in the aisle. “Beka and I don’t have your communication problems.”

If anything, they had the opposite. Neither Victor nor Yuuri would actually talk about things.

He and Beka talked. A lot. About everything. Sometimes at loud volumes.

But everything with them was laid open. Spoken. Starting with “Are you going to become friends with me or not?”

So Yuri would go, rescue his boyfriend, try to fall back to sleep, and if not, he’d indulge in shitty airline movies until they landed in Bangkok.

At the very least, it would keep him from worrying about Sasha.

Chapter Text

The thing about airports -- even one as cool as Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok -- was that, no matter how hard they tried to be different, they all ended up being the same maze of neutral tile, glass, and metal architecture.

No matter how pretty it was, you still got lost and couldn’t find anything until at least your third visit, Yuri thought, as he and Katsudon wove their way through the crowd, trying to find Phicht and the driver he’d hired for them.

“Yuuri!” Yuri turned reflexively, hearing his name. An automatic reaction that turned into a frown as he realized -- mid-turn -- that it was Phichit’s voice calling his name.

And thus, it was not actually his name at all.

“You’re here!” Phichit exploded towards them from behind a knot of people, stopping just short of flinging himself at Yuuri. Everyone knew  that Yuuri didn’t like to be touched, except by Victor.

But Victor was special. As was Bettina, who was currently clinging to Yuuri’s legs, Yuri noted stepping over to join the other two skaters, Sasha sticking close behind him.

‘Hey Phichit!” Yuuri waved, moving out of the flow of traffic to greet his friend.  

“Both of you come here, I need a selfie to promo the exhibition!” Phichit said pulling out his phone. Yuri rolled his eyes but indulged him. He wasn’t that much of a grouch. And his angels would love it.

“How was the flight?” Phicht asked after he’d snapped a shot, throwing his trademark victory sign. Yuuri had his katsudon-dork face on it and Yuri could deal with the aloof, unimpressed scowl he’d had in it.

“Long,” Yuuri said with a sigh, “but fine. How are--” Phicht shrieked and Yuri rolled his eyes once again. Apparently he’d only just noticed Bettina clinging to Yuuri.

“Is that--?” Phichit crouched down, pointing at the small pink Delibird. The softest expression of utter adoration glowed on Phichit’s face, tentative, like a sun peeking out from behind the clouds, wondering if it was okay to shine.

“Oh, yeah. Phichit, this is Bettina.” Yuuri stepped aside, leaving the blushing pink Delibird standing there, wringing her fins.

Phicht’s eyes went heart shaped and he melted into a puddle of goo on the floor. Yuri snorted. Was he the only person in the world unimpressed with Victor and Yuuri’s pokemon?

Well, considering he was the only person unimpressed with Victor and Yuuri in general...

““Oh Yuuri she’s beautiful!” Phichit reached a hand out, slowly coaxing Bettina to him, clearly resisting the urge to just sweep her up in his arms and cuddle her to death.

Yuuri laughed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Yuri crossed his arms, one hip leaning against Sasha, waiting for the other two to notice them,

“You can say hi,” Yuuri said, looking down at Bettina. “Phichit, this is Bettina. Bettina, this is Phichit.” She moved back over to Yuuri, gripping his leg and hiding behind him again.

Yuuri caressed her head with one hand. “She’s a little shy,” he explained. That didn’t seem to make a difference to Phichit, who was still a puddle of adoration on the floor.

The urge to throw up in the back of his mouth was strong, but Yuri resisted. He was maturing.

Slowly.

He’d never like or understand this kind of mushy stuff...but he was learning to tolerate it. (Sharing a rink with Victor and Yuuri had been excellent practice. Plus Lilia had kept yelling at him about being rude, so he’d learned to keep it to himself...mostly.)

“Oh Yuuri she’s perfect!” Phichit said, popping up from the floor, fists clenched in front of his face, little hearts practically floating around his head.

Yuuri glanced down, features soft. “Yeah, she is.”

That was what did it. The look on Katsudon’s face combined with that soft, small statement. Yuri’s throat tightened, his stomach clenching hollowly, like he’d just taken a blow to his midsection. It was so soft, so...loving. He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking over at Sasha, cream fur a striking contrast to those bright crimson eyes.

When had he lost that? He realized, staring at her. When had he stopped feeling that way about his Pokemon?

“Huh?” Phichit blinked and starting looking around, knowing he was missing something. “Wait, where’s Victor?” he asked.

“Getting the luggage,” Yuri said, answering automatically, eyes not moving from Sasha’s. There was something in her eyes--if he could just figure out what it was...what she was trying to say... her head tilted to one side, expression shifting into something--

Phichit gasped. “Oh, Yuri! Oh, look at Sasha! Hey girl, remember me?”

Yuri bit back the frustration as Phichit broke through their moment, Sasha’s gaze swinging over to the Thai skater.

“Oh Yuri, she’s so beautiful,” Phichit said, holding out a hand for her to sniff, waiting for her to give the go-ahead before burying his hands in her creamy fur and scratching her ears.

With a start, Yuri realized Phichit was right. He hadn’t really looked at her since she’d evolved. And when he had...he’d seen this big white beast instead of his friend. He’d been seeing what he was missing, not what was right in front of him, and how truly stunning she was now. The regal curve of her neck, the seemingly delicate motions of her tails, the dainty way she lifted her feet. The way the light filtered through the arched glass and metal roof and lit up all the different shades of white and gold and cream in her coat, catching and illuminating the fire in her eyes.

She was stunning.

“You okay?” Yuri jolted again when Otabek whispered in his ear. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard his boyfriend walk up beside him with their luggage.

Ted had climbed on top of Otabek’s suitcase and was riding it like a pony. Otabek looked like he was ignoring the bear, but Yuri could tell from the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his boyfriend’s mouth that that wasn’t the case.

“Fine,” Yuri said, sneaking a glance over at Otabek and seeing the strain around the corner of his eyes. “You?”

Otabek shrugged. Victor , he somehow managed to say without saying anything.

Yuri nodded, understanding. Otabek respected Victor, both as a person and as a skater. But he was just so. fucking. Extra .

Otabek Altin and extra did not mix. Even for short periods of time. He was just too polite to object when Victor bodily dragged him away to the baggage carousel while shooing the two Yuris away to go find Phichit.

Who was now shooing them all outside, squishing them into a van pulled up to the loading zone.

“Why are you in front?” Yuri growled once they were all settled. He was squished between Victor and Yuuri with the Delibirds practically nesting on his feet. Otabek had lucked out and was sharing the back row with Sasha and Ted and Baboo, Phichit’s Furrett.

(Phichit had left him in the van because, apparently, he liked to run off and explore the terminal. and There had been an incident a few years ago in Frankfurt during a layover where Phichit had almost lost him for good that he had no desire to repeat. When they travelled, Baboo wore a collar and ID tag and slept in a Furrett-proof carrying case.

(Yuri still thought the case would look better in leopard print.) )

“Because I need to navigate,” Phichit said, turning around to smile at all of them from the front seat.

Yuri glowered.

Victor laughed. “How’s the exhibition going?” he asked. “Is everything going to be ready?”

Phichit nodded. “Yeah, everything’s under control. You’re here now. Seung-gil’s coming tomorrow,” he started ticking off names on his fingers, keeping track of who he had and had not named.

“Leo and Guang-hong are getting in about the same time. JJ and Isabella will be here late this evening. Mila, the Crispino twins, and Emil got here yesterday. Chris is here already, oh and so is your number one fan, Yuuri!” Phichit said with a sly smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

In that moment, Yuri understood why Phichit Chulanot, of all people, had a fucking Furrett.

He looked just like one.

And then the implication of Yuuri’s number one fan sank in and Yuri groaned.

“You invited the chicken nugget?!” It was half ask, half statement, Yuri’s voice rising at the end the way it was supposed to when you ask a question -- but it was impossible to tell if that was due to the sentence structure or Yuri’s very obvious irritation.

“Hey! Minami’s the #1 ranked skater in Japan now that Yuuri’s retired,” Phichit said, defending his choice even though this was his exhibition.

Victor nodded, his hair flapping uncomfortably close into Yuri’s personal space. “He’s a born entertainer, Yurio,” he said. “And an exhibition like this isn’t JUST about skill and technique. Being able to hold a crowd and entertain them is far more important.”

Victor smiled his innocent I’m-giving-such-good-advice face smile, holding up one finger like he’d had a brilliant idea along with it.

If they hadn’t been in such a confined space (read: if Yuri had had any room to maneuver and deliver a decent punch) he would have socked Victor in the mouth right now, ruining that smugly perfect smile.

Yuri settled for glaring at him instead. “Are you saying I can’t entertain a crowd?” There was a harsh, dark edge to his voice that Victor, the bastard, didn’t even acknowledge.

Yuri knew he could skate. Knew he could entertain. He had the fucking gold medals to prove it…

Otabek’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. Yuri relaxed a fraction at the touch, taking a mental step back. Victor wasn’t saying Yuri wasn’t good at those things. Logically, he knew that.

It still hurt though.

“Of course you can,” Victor said, “I’m just saying it’s about more than how many quads you can land.”

Phichit nodded, still turned around to face all of them and clearly not navigating for the driver. “I don’t think anyone’s doing any quads...except JJ. But I’m not sure about him.”

Yuri scowled. “What’s he doing? Pair skating with his ditto?”

JJ’s Ditto -- a blobby, bubblegum coloured thing named (of all things) Prim -- often transformed into JJ on the podium. A perfect, grinning replica minus whatever medal JJ had managed to get his hands on that day, with eyes that were even more dead than JJs.

That, even more than JJs arrogance, annoyed Yuri the most about the Canadian.

Because yeah, the guy could skate. He was fucking annoying, but he could skate.

But who even did that?

“No, I told him his ditto wasn’t allowed to transform into him. It might scare the kids,” Phichit said. Every head in the back seat nodded. That was a good call. The first time it had happened during a medals ceremony it had been...disturbing for most of the people watching. To say the least.

“He said he was doing something ‘Stampede style’?” Phicht shrugged and somehow managed to look like the human form of the shruggie emoticon.

“The Calgary Stampede,” Otabek said, his voice unexpectedly coming from the back. Everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged a shoulder.

“I trained with him in Canada. He’s originally from Calgary.”

They all kept staring at him. Yuri included. He often forgot that his boyfriend had trained in Canada. Otabek rarely talked about his time abroad, preferring to talk about home and Almaty and his family and skating-now, not skating-then.

“It’s a big event. Very popular.”

“What...is it?” Yuuri asked, voice hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Otabek shrugged. “A big fair with horses and cattle. The whole city shuts down for like, a week.”

Yuri and Victor exchanged glances, eyebrows raised at the strangeness. Canadians were nice and all (except for that asshole JJ) but they did some weird things…

Phichit eventually broke the silence by clapping his hands together.

“So, about your routines…”

Yuri gulped as Phichit laid out the plan for the next few days. The solo performances, the group rehearsals...

He knew his routine wasn’t ready. He hadn’t managed to skate it once with Sasha yet.

His part was down (if a bit unpolished by his usual standards but this was an exhibition, he wasn’t going for technical perfection here) but Sasha...Sasha was what made it all come together.

He snuck a glance into the back seat and watched her for the rest of the ride to the hotel.

He thought he’d had a solution. But now that they were here, he wasn’t so sure.

----

That night in the hotel, after settling Ted into his travel bed, Sasha happily ensconced in the living room of their suite, Beka climbed into bed behind Yuri. He wrapped an arm around the younger man, pulling him close, his other hand tangling in the long strands of blond hair that fanned out over the pillow.

No matter how tall he got, Yuri would always be the little spoon. Beka wrapped himself around his boyfriend, tucking his head over Yuri’s shoulder.

It was natural. Normal. Yuri had always slept like that, curled up around Sasha before. It just made sense for Otabek to slide in behind him.

Except now Yuri curled around empty space, the image somehow sad and haunting.

They lay like that for a few minutes, Beka breathing in Yuri’s scent, stroking his hair slowly. Then Yuri rolled over, green eyes haunted. Like a soldier back from war. Or a child who had suffered an incredible loss, one that ripped the soul apart.

He burrowed into the warmth of his boyfriend, clinging to him. Smooth skin warm over firm muscle, the faint scents of soap and leather and Beka soothing that raw, broken thing in his eyes that he didn’t have words for yet.

There was something sad about his eyes, black lashes stark against whites that were shining as though he were on the verge of tears.

Beka combed his fingers through Yuri’s hair, long silky strands drifting between his fingers as his fingertips gently caressed the back of Yuri’s head. He’d stay up all night doing this if it helped Yuri.

Yuri buried his face in Beka’s neck, arms tucked into the space between them. Curling up as small as he could, like he was a child again.

Rubbing his back, Beka murmured to him softly, “It’s okay Yura.”

He didn’t know what was wrong, or why. Just that there was something eating away at Yuri, inside of him. He could guess what it was...but with Yuri he was never really sure. He was so complicated, despite the facade of endless anger he showed the world. Always pushing down the nuances of emotion he didn’t want or know how to deal with.

Otabek might not be able to reach inside his boyfriend and stitch up Yuri’s wounds the way he wanted to, but he could hold Yuri. Be his rock. Get him through this.

“I miss her Beka,” the words were quiet, barely audible, and choked with guilt and grief. If he hadn’t felt Yuri’s lips move against his skin, Beka might not have realized he was speaking. “And it’s so stupid because she’s right there!”

There it was. The anger that always bubbled up when Yuri was feeling...well, anything. But particularly when he was hurt. And even more so when he thought he shouldn’t be hurt.

“I read somewhere that the brain processes change as loss,” Beka offered softly, voice as neutrally soothing and quiet as he could make it. “Any change. Not just bad ones.”

Yuri huffed, snuggling closer, one foot rubbing up and down Beka’s calf where their legs tangled together.

“You read too much.”

Beka laughed, a warm, full sound in the darkness. It wasn’t that Yuri didn’t read, but if it didn’t apply to skating, he didn’t see the point. That single minded focus was what had earned him the title of World Champion two years in a row now, and was one of the things Beka admired most about him.

Yuri, of course, didn’t feel the same way about it. “You’re too good for me,” he whispered.

Beka rolled his eyes, fingers sifting even more gently through Yuri’s hair now as loving reassurance and mild frustration surfaced within him.

This was a conversation they’d had many times. As a skater and an athlete and a competitor, Yuri was fierce and determined and certain of his own skill and ability and value.

As a human being...not so much.

Beka had the opposite problem, to a lesser degree.

You let me see beneath your armour, Yuri, he wanted to say. That’s a gift you don’t ever give to anyone. How could I not love you?

He didn’t say it, even though the words were right there, just on the edge of his tongue. Ready to spill over...and fall on deaf ears. He could say it, but Yuri still wouldn’t really hear it. He wasn’t ready to hear it.

“I’m the one dating a world champion,” Otabek said instead, opting for lightness instead. “If anything I’m not good enough for you.”

Yuri swatted him weakly with one hand. “You took gold at Four Continents this year. And at the Grand Prix last year.”

Beka hummed, grabbing Yuri’s hand and interlacing their fingers. Yeah, he had.

Without warning, using their entwined fingers as leverage, Yuri flipped them over, looming over Beka on his hands and knees.

Beka stared up at him through the curtain of Yuri’s hair, watching the shadows in the room play across Yuri’s face, the edge of a cheekbone illuminated by the streetlight that spilled in through a crack in the curtains.

“Kiss me,” Yuri whispered, the undercurrent of anguish in his voice communicating, without words, that he longed for distraction.

Beka brushed a thumb across Yuri’s cheek, a soft smile crossing his face before he reached up to wordlessly press their lips together.

Yuri surged forward, teeth and tongue practically attacking Beka’s mouth, no patience for the slow, deliberate way Otabek usually undid him, his fervour akin to a plea.

Just because Otabek was on the bottom didn’t mean he had to give in. He stroked up and down Yuri’s back, slowly, setting his own pace as Yuri whined and ground down against his leg and damn .

A shiver of pleasure ran up Otabek’s spine and his breath caught in the back of his throat. He’d wanted to go slow, to tenderly worship Yuri until all the sadness and anger left him.

Apparently Yuri had other ideas.

If that was what Otabek’s boyfriend wanted, he could oblige.

He flipped them over, pinned Yuri underneath him, and went to work. Teeth and tongue nipping, teasing, sucking. Slowly and deliberately driving Yuri out his mind, pushing him higher and higher with want and need. Hands skimming and touching, firm but never quite firm enough for the lithe Russian writhing in his bed.

“Beka,” Yuri gasped, pulling him closer. Begging for more.

Otabek slid home, trembling with the pleasure. Cocking his hips just right so that Yurileft both thought and feeling behind and just...was. A trembling, needy mass who couldn’t even wheeze out his own name -- or Beka’s.

Finally, when Yuri was sobbing, sated, exhausted, Otabek let him fly. Pushed him over the edge with a kiss and a whispered “I love you” in his ear.

They fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep, tangled up in one another.

Chapter Text

The weirdest thing about this exhibition so far wasn’t the ridiculous number of pokemon wandering around the rink, or Phichit walking around with Baboo on his shoulder and a clipboard in hand, directing everything.

It was the fact that these practice sessions were virtually indistinguishable from the ones before any major championship.

It was downright eerie, Yuri thought, resting against the boards for a moment. Most of the skaters were on the ice in their practice gear...the exact same way they had been for World’s a few months ago.

The deja vu was kinda overwhelming. And odd, since Yuri had never noticed it before. Practice was practice. Competition was competition. This was...something in between. And it felt off.

Of course, the slight figure with dark hair who had just entered the arena was definitely off. She’d never be allowed entrance right now if this were a real competition. She took a spot on the boards, not even trying to hide the coffee or the large DSLR camera she’d brought with her.

Yuri scowled and pushed off, skating over to her, deliberately picking up as much speed as he could. A black blur streaming white-gold hair behind him, Yuri kept going until the last minute, stopping hard and fast barely an inch from the woman’s face.

The bitch didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Just took a sip of her coffee as he spoke.

“Skaters only,” Yuri said, looming over the petite Asian woman with blue eyes.

“I’m coaching JJ,” she replied, taking a nonchalant sip from her coffee.

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “You know less about coaching figure skating than Victor,” he said, words harsh but lacking some of their usual bite -- if you knew what to listen for.

(And that Victor had been such a terrible coach that Yakov, in a fit of frustrated rage, had made Victor his assistant coach simply so that he could get Victor to stop being so bad at it.)

After three years of being Yuri Plisetsky’s best frenemy, Isabella Leroy-Yang knew both.

She leaned to one side, looking past Yuri’s shoulder to someone on the rink.

“Looking good, honey!” she called, waving at her husband. Yuri rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to turn around to know that JJ was probably winking and throwing double finger guns at them.

Insufferable ass.

“Seriously, though, what are you doing here?” Yuri asked, relaxing from his loom.

“Phichit asked if I could take a few shots of you guys for promo.” She shrugged. “Apparently I’m the best photographer he knows.”

Yuri snorted. “Yeah, it’s not like you got a degree in it,” he muttered.

She’d graduated from a fashion design program a few years ago and had taken every supplemental photography course offered, stating she was never happy with how other people photographed her clothes.

(She’d made Yuri model for her once and her designs were surprisingly good…as were her photos.)

Isabella laughed, a bright, tinkly sound. When she laughed, Yuri could see why JJ loved her. She had him wrapped around her little finger.

Of course, somewhere between realizing her taste in fashion was almost as impeccable as his and that she was the only person he’d ever met who could match his scathing snark (Otabek didn’t so much match it as he stood back and enjoyed the carnage) she’d wormed her way into Yuri’s heart too.

Not that he’d ever admit that publicly.

Their comment wars on Instagram got him way too many followers to ever stop sniping at her.

“So, where’s Sasha?” she asked, sipping on her coffee.

Yuri glanced away, not meeting her eyes.

He still hadn’t made it public knowledge that Sasha had evolved. Hadn’t wanted to deal with the media circus that would come when he told the world he now had a Ninetails instead of his cute, adorable, cuddly little Vulpix.

He’d announce it after the exhibition.

Or just let the exhibition coverage take care of it and have Yakov send out a statement afterwards. That would do.

Isabella placed her cup down on top of the boards. Yuri couldn’t fool her that easily. “What happened.”

She didn’t even ask. Just stated, like it was a fact. Like she already knew.

It was hands down one of her most annoying traits...and one of the ones that Yuri (grudgingly) admired the most.

“She evolved,” Yuri said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the other side of the rink.

Bella’s blue eyes went wide and she stood on her tiptoes, craning to see. A squeal burst forth when she caught sight of Sasha sitting in the stands.

She dashed off around the edge of the arena, forgetting her coffee on the boards, one hand steadying her camera so it didn’t thump against her side.

Yuri watched her go, taking his time (and drinking the last of her coffee) before slowly skating over to them.

Sasha loved Isabella almost as much as she loved Otabek. Maybe a few minutes with her would be good, Yuri thought, lazily pushing off against the ice.

He saw the way Sasha perked up when she saw Bella. The gleam in her eyes, the flick of her tails, the small chirrup that meant she was happy.

The preening when, instead of throwing herself at the Ninetails and petting her like everyone else did, Isabella stopped a few feet away and started snapping pictures.

“That’s it, what a beautiful girl,” Isabella said, crooning praise and directions at Sasha as Yuri drew closer.  “Tilt your head for me Sasha, that’s it.”

The click of the shutter drew curious glances from the other skaters. Most of them shrugged and decided not to get involved when they saw Yuri skating over. JJ winked.

Yuri scowled, rolling his eyes when he caught Otabek’s faint smirk.

Nobody had said anything to him yet, but the fact that his pokemon was the only one not on the ice had been...telling. They all had private practice times, sure, but seeing Sasha curled up on her pile of blankets, not moving and steadfastly refusing to go near the ice…

Yuri’s image was taking a beating.

He hated that he cared about that.

Hated that it was in competition with Sasha. Hated that he couldn’t just let it go.

The tightness at the back of his throat made him mad. His shoulders were stiff as he stepped off the ice and over to where Sasha had made her nest for the day, off to the side of one of the entrances.

Isabella was petting Sasha now, fawning over her. His Ninetails leaned into the scratches, purring loudly enough that Yuri could hear her.

“Stop beating yourself up.” She didn’t even look at him, just spoke when she heard the thump of skates on the mat behind her.

Yuri scowled. “I’m not,” he said, words snapping out harsh and defensive.

(He so was.)  

Bella glanced at him from the corner of her eye, the angle of her eyebrow screaming “bullshit”.

Yuri jerked a shoulder.

It was easy to be resentful. Easy to be hard and defensive and to shut his feelings down and shut people out. He’d been doing it all of his life.

His entire image and reputation was built on it.

But people like Bella...and Otabek...and even Katsudon, to a degree...they didn’t let him. They saw right through that.

“It’s okay to want her to skate with you,” Isabella said, straightening up and looking Yuri in the eye. They stood facing one another, sides to the rink, completely blocking the path for anyone who wanted in or out.

She had to tilt her head back to look up at him, especially in his skates. The smug little glow of finally being taller than her was always present when she had to look up at him.

Especially after their first meeting in Barcelona.

Yuri crossed his arms over his chest.

“Even if she doesn’t want to?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. They’d all heard the stories and seen the news reports about irresponsible trainers forcing Pokemon to fight or perform against their will. The massive protests and riots by Pokemon Rights Activists when another scandal was uncovered. Stories of abuse and neglect by celebrities…

(Honestly, it was a wonder Phichit had managed to get the exhibition together at all.)

The thing was though...Yuri had never wanted Pokemon. Not like the other kids. He’d never intended to become a trainer or dreamt of having a companion.

He’d just found Sasha one day, and that had been it.

They’d always been close but…

He let his eyes wander around the arena. Not everyone had their Pokemon here. Leo and Guang Hong were on the ice while Leo’s Jigglypuff and Guang Hong’s Marowak hung out on the boards, leaving the two to practice their choreography alone on the ice.

Emil and Aipom were tap dancing in a corner, little booties covering his Aipom’s feet but Seung Gil was practicing alone. As was JJ. Mila was talking to Sara and Michele; Bellossom was no where to be seen but Plusle and Minun were with the twins.

Ted was gliding around the rink, his claws leaving dents in the ice as he followed Otabek around.

He and Sasha had always been close but…

It felt so strained compared to everyone else’s bonds with their Pokemon.

It looked strained compared to theirs. The way Sasha cuddled into blankets. A fire type who clearly didn’t care for the cold, and yet here Yuri was, subjecting her to it.

(Though he had no idea what she would do if he’d left her behind…)

“You know, when Iris evolved, it was really hard for a while,” Isabella said, snapping Yuri out of his reverie.

“Huh?”

“One minute I had this cute little Eevee, the next I’m dealing with an obnoxious psychic cat.”

Yuri laughed. He’d met Iris at the last Skate Canada. “Obnoxious psychic cat” was the perfect description for the beautiful Espeon. She had a haughty, regal beauty that matched Yuri’s own.

“I kept wondering if I wanted to keep her,” Isabella admitted, watching JJ now as he circled the ice. “If I could deal with having her.”

Yuri blinked, then stared at Isabella in astonishment. This had come from out of nowhere...why--?

“It’s not easy, when they evolve,” she said, voice quiet, nearly lost under the chatter of the rink and the swooshing thump of blades against ice.

“Everyone doubts, and everyone struggles with it for a while, Yuri,” she said. “Just remember, this is Sasha. She loves you, and she’d burn down this whole arena if it would make you happy. And if she doesn’t want to do something, she’ll find a way to let you know.”

Isabella patted Yuri on the shoulder while the Russian stared down at her in amazement.

That…

That resonated with something deep inside of him, something he thought he saw reflected in Sasha’s deep red eyes.

“If you’re so smart how come you married JJ?” Yuri asked, teasing more than biting. He didn’t stop with the scathing comments when he was grateful, just turned the heat down.

Isabella grinned, flashing Yuri a perfect white smile.

“The sex is amazing.”

Yuri choked, sputtering incoherently, unable to even draw air let alone form a comeback sentence.

He did not need that information.

Isabella strolled off, laughing softly, hair gently swishing from side to side. Clearly, she had won this one.

Yuri huffed, watching her make her way back to the other side of the rink. Running a hand through his hair he looked down at Sasha.

Yeah, things had been hard lately. Not just because of the evolution, but because of how he’d been reacting.

Maybe it was time to change all of that.

“Hey Sasha,” he said to her. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, very intent for some reason. Had the evolution made her smarter too? Yuri wondered.

He really hadn’t taken the time to learn anything about her new form, aside from what was common knowledge. How had she changed?

More importantly, how was she still the same?

“Let’s go have some fun,” Yuri said. He’d text Phichit for a list of Poke parks when he was out of the arena.

“You’re a dead man Plisetsky!” rang out, echoing in the large space. Yuri turned to see Isabella waving her empty coffee cup in the air where he’d left it on the boards for her. He grinned and shot her a thumbs up.

Maybe she hadn’t won that exchange after all...

“Come on girl,” he said to Sasha. “Lets go play.”

Chapter Text

The train screeched to a stop and Yuri stepped off onto the platform. Metro trains were the same pretty much everywhere. Only the station design and the sign language really changed, he thought, scuffing his feet along the tiles as Sasha trailed behind him.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to force out some of the tension as he wove his way through the growing crowd of people. It wasn’t super busy, but a nice, sunny, Friday afternoon? Of course people would be out in droves.

Sasha nudged Yuri’s elbow with his nose, brushing up beside him.

He wrapped an arm around her neck, slowing his pace for her. She’d never been afraid of crowds before, he thought, a flicker of resentment registering under the surprise.

Then again, she’d been small enough that he’d usually carried her before. He had a leopard print backpack she used to fit in perfectly, head and paws sticking out as she rode on his back. She’d loved being carried.

And, judging from the way she pressed into him, she was...afraid? Of what? Yuri gave a little squeeze with his arm, shifting so that his palm lay on her shoulders. A slight, reassuring warmth as he gripped her fur and watched her relax.

Had she done this at the airport? For the life of him, Yuri couldn’t remember. Then again, she knew St. Petersburg pretty well. And Ted and Otabek had been with them...Was she afraid of getting lost, now?

Yuri shook his head, strands of blond hair falling across his eyes and sticking to his face as they crossed the pedestrian bridge and walked into the park.

The humidity was nearly unbelievable. Sticky and warm, the air felt thick, like breathing steam or water. Two steps into the park and sweat was already rolling down his back, and the afternoon heat made him glad he’d changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top before leaving the rink.  

Sasha, however, perked up seeing the park, her steps picking up, the slightest hint of a prance entering her step as she shook her coat, puffing her fur out to soak in the heat.

Yuri knew she’d love to just curl up in the sunshine somewhere for the rest of the afternoon. Him? He’d forgotten his sunscreen and would probably pay for it later.

It was worth it though, to see Sasha happy.

They strolled through the park, Yuri sticking to the paved paths while Sasha danced along the grass.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Isabella said.

Just remember, this is Sasha.

This haughty, regal beast was Sasha.

This haughty, regal beast was the shivering, starving little fluffball he’d rescued as a kid. Who’d come home, eaten their food, lit a fire for them, and fell asleep in his arms. His partner in crime, terrorizing Yakov and the other skaters at the rink with him. Snapping selfies and chasing seagulls through the streets of St. Petersburg.

Sitting patiently to the side in Lilia’s ballet room as Yuri pirouetted and jette’d over and over and over again in the pursuit of excellence and beauty.

Who’d sat on the couch with him, bingeing on ice cream together whenever he got a cheat day.

A scrappy little fox who’d matched his punk vibe perfectly.

That little fox and this majestic creature were the same being. Or so everyone told him.

Yuri still couldn’t see it.

He still missed the little red fluff ball who, on walks like this, would have bumped up against his leg. Would would have played tag with him and chased…

Sasha snapped at something, ears flicking first back and then forward, like she was hunting something. Biting at the air, eyes tracking the movement of…

A butterfly.

A small white one, darting out of her way, flying high and dipping low, narrowly escaping her jaws time and time again.

Yuri stood there, feet rooted to the pavement (which was becoming uncomfortably hot under the afternoon sun) as Sasha chased the butterfly. After one last jump up, she huffed and stomped a foot when the butterfly flew too high for her to reach.

With a huff and a flick of her tail she walked back over to Yuri, bumping his chest with her nose.

“Hey girl,” he murmured, stroking over the crown of her head, scratching that spot behind her ears that always itched. “Hey.”

Tears pricked at his eyes.

This is Sasha.

If she doesn’t want to do something, she’ll find a way to let you know.

Leaning forward, Yuri grabbed her in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, all the tension flowing out of him. The anger, the fear, the uncertainty, the sadness, the doubt -- it all melted away.

This was Sasha.

He’d just stopped being able to see that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, and Sasha purred, nudging Yuri so that most of his weight was leaning on her. He let himself soak in her new strength, the new body she’d been given. She was still the same inside. Still the attitude-filled fluff ball who liked to chase butterflies--

With one clever movement that was part headbutt, park jerk away, Sasha sent Yuri sprawling on the pavement.

Hands splayed out behind him, Yuri pushed himself up and gaped at his Ninetails. Had she just--?

She stuck her tongue out at him, the pink tip of her tongue boop-ing out from between her lips for a split second before she dashed off.

Yuri lay there for a moment, stunned as the heat from the asphalt sank into his limbs, the slight roughness burning his palms.

That little--!

She turned to look back at him, still sprawled there like a stunned turtle and flicked her tail at him. Are you coming? dripped from every line of her body.

Yuri grinned. He pushed himself up, climbing slowly and deliberately to his feet.

“It’s on,” he shouted, pointing at his Pokemon before dashing towards her.

She chirped, pranced in place, and sprang away seconds before Yuri could grab her, his fingers nearly brushing her coat.

Tag had always been her favourite.

(He’d gotten in trouble more than once for playing with her indoors in Lilia’s house. Neither Lilia nor her Galceon had been amused.)

They ran through the park, ducking around trees, hiding from one another. Sasha occasionally letting Yuri get close enough to touch her.

It was interesting, playing with her at this size. She was more powerful and stronger, yes. But she was also less agile than before, less able to slip into small spaces and hide there.

Yuri, however, still had his old moves. And opposable thumbs.

Leaping over a bench, Yuri danced backwards along the edge of the lake, making a break for a palm tree at the last moment so Sasha skidded towards the lake edge…

And promptly fell in.

All the blood drained from Yuri’s face. His hands tingled.

She hated water.

He dashed back, hair flying around his face, sandals slipping a bit on grass that wasn’t completely dry thanks to frequent rain and high humidity.

“Sasha!” he called, voice high and tight with panic. “You okay?” he asked, crouching down at the water’s edge.

She sat in the water, 3 feet from the edge, dripping fur hanging from her face. With her coat wet she looked about half her usual size (and when had this become her usual size? Yuri wondered in the back of his mind, the small little start registering and flickering away almost immediately under the other concerns).

Wet fur clinging to her, Sasha glared at him. Yuri laughed and whipped out his phone, snapping a picture for Instagram.

She stuck out her tongue at him, and he snapped another. Sunlight reflecting off the water around her, green park and blue sky behind her -- it was a fantastic shot.

Huffing at him, Sasha tossed her head, wet fur ruining the haughty, regal look she was going for. Yuri laughed so hard he had to sit down, blades of grass tickling his calves. The glare she shot at him was frightening, nearly enough to boil water.

In fact...she was? Yuri realized with a start. The water around her was...steaming, ever so slightly. Hard to detect with the heat and humidity but Yuri could definitely see little bubbles starting to surface beside her as Sasha stood up and, with as much dignity as she could muster, picked her way out of the pond.

Yuri wasn’t about to go in and test the water temperature himself, but she had been running hotter after her evolution. If she was hot enough to boil pond water, why did she hate the rink so much? Was ice that much worse?

He pondered this as Sasha walked up beside him, sheltering him from the sun. (He should probably find a shady spot for a while or he was likely to start burning.) A smile on his face, Yuri opened his mouth to say something when the Ninetails shook.

Droplets of pond water flew into Yuri’s mouth, coated his hair, and sprayed all over his outfit.

A stream of Russian curses fell from his mouth as Yuri staggered to his feet, dripping and gross, trying to claw the water out of his eyes and save his hair.

It didn’t work.

Spitting on the grass, he glared at Sasha. One corner of her lips pulled up in the smuggest grin Yuri had ever seen.

His heart melted just a little at that grin.

She really hadn’t changed. The evolution hadn’t touched her personality.

For that, Yuri was grateful beyond words.

Sasha danced away from him again, clearly not done with their game of tag, despite her undignified soaking.

This constant teasing, this back and forth...this was what Yuri had been missing.

Trust her. Isabella’s voice whispered in his mind.

This is Sasha.

He’d have to call Phichit as soon as they were done here. He knew how to fix the program.

And how to make it so that Sasha never went on the ice.

His program was going to be epic.

But first, his Pokemon wanted to play with him.

And he wasn’t going to say no to that.

-----

@yuri_plisetsky

[A soaking wet ninetails sits in a pond, glaring at the camera. Her tongue sticks out at her owner, a small splash of pink among the blue and green scenery.]

Caption: Sasha <3

#chatuchakpark #bangkok #fetch #oops

[2389 likes] [63 more comments]

@v-nikiforov oh poor Sasha! It’s a good thing she loves you Yurio! <3

@otabek-altin :thumbs-up-emoji:

@YuriPAngel#1 OMG SASHA EVOLVED

@PlitsekyPower akhdi;ern;ishdfa;lksdfjao;dglijana

@lil__neko Yuri she’s so pretty!

@phichit+chu YOU TWO WERE SUPPOSED TO BE PRACTICING (#PokemonOnIce opens in two days! Don’t forget your tickets! You’ll get to see Sasha and @yuri_plisetsky LIVE!)

@ice-tiger-forever *nosebleed*

@winterrain attaboy Yuri

@yurisbielman she’s so pretty *hearteyes* when did she evolve?

@goyuratchaka no wonder you haven’t been posting pics of her!

Chapter Text

Otabek had decided not to put Ted in a costume for their routine.

Wrestling the little bear into anything would have been a nightmare.

Especially since he kept running off, Otabek thought, grabbing him and hoisting him onto his hip like an unruly toddler. The bear whined, clawing at the air as he reached for one of the staff members. (She was wearing headphones. Ted loved headphones.)

“You can play later,” Otabek said, hauling Ted back to the warm up area with him. “Right now we’re gonna go see Yuri.” Ted huffed in his arms, unimpressed with his boyfriend.

“Sasha’s with him.”

The bear trilled, settling onto Otabek’s hip, one little paw wrapping around his back. The other popped into his mouth so he could suck on it.

Otabek sighed. He’d have to clean his paws before they hit the ice. Again .

Rounding the corner, he stopped for a moment. The room was packed with skaters and pokemon, all warming up for the exhibition.

On the far side of the room was Yuri.

Except he wasn’t vibrating and tense the way Otabek had expected.

He’d expected his boyfriend to be jittery, on edge. Tapping his foot. Jiggling his leg. Pacing. Glowering out at everyone from the corner. Scaring off everyone except maybe Victor, who never seemed to notice Yuri’s moods. (Otabek wasn’t sure if Victor was just that oblivious or if he deliberately ignored them.)

But instead…

Yuri was standing off to one side, chatting with Guang-Hong. The smaller Chinese skater was accompanied by his Marowak. According to Leo, the Marowak had been Guang-Hong’s mother’s before she passed away, and had given him strict instructions to look after her son.

The two were a comical mismatch, especially beside Yuri and Sasha. A fierce protectiveness radiated from Marowak, who seemed to loom over Guang-Hong, despite being the same height as Sasha.

Yuri and Sasha on the other hand…

Yuri laughed at something Guang-Hong said, head thrown back, one hand stroking over Sasha’s head.

When he looked at her, there was look of such pure love on his face it took Beka’s breath away.

He’d only ever seen Yuri that soft and tender in the small hours of the night, when they were both stripped bare, physically and emotionally, lost in the love between them.

Things had changed between the two of them, suddenly. Right after they’d gotten back from that trip to the park a few days ago. Something had eased within Yuri, and he and Sasha had been closer than ever.

All the tension of the last few weeks completely gone, just like that. As though Yuri snapped his fingers and they were magically okay and completely relaxed around one another again.

Except this time -- Otabek could tell -- it went even deeper than their bond had before. A new certainty and partnership imbuing it they hadn’t had before.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped Yuri from keeping his new routine secret from everyone except Phichit.

Beka had seen the black pants with the mesh panels that spiralled around his legs and the sequined tank Yuri was going to be wearing, but that was it. His arms looked like they were blushing all the time now, the slight redness of his sunburn slowly fading.

It wouldn’t be noticeable on the ice.

Not to the audience, anyway.

Guang-Hong’s Marowak stiffened suddenly, noticing the clock, and grabbed his trainer by the sleeve and dragged him off. Guang-Hong waved helplessly as his Pokemon marched him off to warm up and Yuri laughed, waving at him.

Otabek took his chance, dropping Ted on the floor and sidling up beside Yuri before anyone else had a chance. The bear toddled forward and hugged Sasha’s front legs, trilling little notes of joy as the Ninetails looked down and chirped at him.

“Hey,” Yuri smiled at him.

“You ready?” Otabek asked.

Yuri flashed him a grin, sparkling and vicious. “I’m gonna knock their socks off. Even his,” Yuri said, jerking a thumb in JJ’s direction.

The Canadian was decked out in plaid flannel and skating pants patterned to look like denim. A cowboy hat dangled from his fingers and his Ditto rode on his shoulder as he stretched.

Anticipation hung in the air, the same sort of buzz they all got before a competition, but less charged, somehow. Yeah, they were here to show off, but this...this was for fun .

Otabek ran a hand over his boyfriend’s hair, careful not to mess the intricate braids that cascaded down Yuri’s back. Comforting himself more than Yuri as Phichit bustled in, arms laden with costumes.

The group opening number had ridiculous costumes. All bright pastels and candy stripes with puffy sleeves, cleverly designed so that they could go on overtop of their individual performance costumes without losing any range of motion. The design was ingenious.

Yuri looked like he wanted to vomit. Otabek chuckled. He’d known what he was getting into.

Phichit clapped his hands the murmurs of the skaters died down.

He started talking, saying something about how grateful he was that they were all there and participating and Otabek honestly just tuned out a bit, nodding somberly when it seemed appropriate.

He shrugged on the robe Phichit handed him, sliding it over the plain t-shirt he had on for his costume’s underlayer. He’d throw the baggy white sweatshirt and baseball cap on after the group number.

For now, this was it.

Showtime.

The skaters lined up in their pre-arranged order, air electric with the buzz of anticipation. Months of work on all of their parts finally coming together for one incredible spectacle.

The first number was a group number, introducing all of them to the audience. Otabek waved to Ted, who was still hugging Sasha as they all slipped off their skate guards and braced themselves for their cues.

The lights went on. Music drifted from the speakers. People started screaming.

And then they were rushing out onto the ice, hitting their cues for the next 2 minute segment.

Otabek let the performance take over. Spinning and sliding as they’d rehearsed. The choreography for the group number was simple, by most standards, but impressive given there were over a dozen skaters on the ice together.

Plus an army of line-dancing furrets bobbing and weaving between the skaters, footwork looking even fancier because of the way the animals dove between them, narrowly missing the potentially-lethal blades.

They circled back to the center, spinning and falling apart, one by one taking their turns skating into the main spot light, striking a pose for the audience and their fans.

JJ threw his signature double J’s. Chris blew the audience a kiss. Everyone else struck various poses. Victor bowed.

Otabek (after conferring with Phichit) had decided to throw in a backflip for his moment. He never got to use it in competitions, and he wasn’t about to risk it when Ted was on the ice with him. At least here, the other skaters could keep the Furrets out of his way.

He caught a glimpse of Yuri’s face as he landed and shot his boyfriend a grin as he slid back into his place in line. That mixture of pissed off surprise always meant Yuri was going to rise to the challenge.

Which, of course he did, throwing the flying splits for his turn before stopping on the opposite side of the rink from Otabek.

The crowd roared, and cheered, as they all spun out and then back into one group at center ice, Phichit, the king, in the middle of them all. Lined up like a photograph with a furret on each side and Baboo perched securely in Phichit’s crown.

(How, Otabek wasn’t quite sure. But there were probably some hidden straps involved.)

Phichit waved to crowd, grinning madly. Skating forward, he held out his arms parallel to the ice and the furrets jumped on him, some sitting on top, some dangling from his arms. The lights followed him, leaving the rest of the skaters to slip off the ice behind them and get changed for their individual numbers.

Otabek was glad. This robe thing was itchy.

But that thing Phichit was doing with the furrets out there? The way they looked like a pinwheel with him at the center? That was damn cool.

----

Victor and Yuuri were next.

Phichit let the lights dim after his grand opening, bowing and ushering all the furrets off the ice, Baboo taking his usual place on Phichit’s shoulders.

When the lights went up, the deep, sonorous voice began to sing.

Since he wasn’t going until the second half, Yuri watched the gross lovebirds perform their routine. Just because he’d seen them practice before didn’t mean he wasn’t curious.

There was a different charge when performing at an exhibition like this or in competition. A shift in energy, that made the final, performed routine inevitably different from whatever you’d practiced.

All those eyes, watching you, waiting. Looking.

Judging.

Or, in this case, adoring.

The little pinkish-red bird in front of Yuuri skated in perfect time with him, fins raised to mimic his arms. Doing all of the exact. Same. moves. As Yuuri.

Honestly, it was a little creepy how in-synch they were...especially since it had only been a few weeks since they were adopted.

Yuri wanted to gag when Victor and Bert joined them, the entire routine a tableaux with the two humans in the back while the delibirds skated in front. Every movement synchronized, down to the jumps, spins, and the final poses.

They’d dropped the difficulty a bit, moving the quads down to triples, the quad flip the only exception.

It was disgusting.

(But it looked amazing and that had to count for something…)

Thank god he and Otabek weren’t like that. Yuri snorted as his boyfriend appeared beside him, both of them watching from a reserved area on the boards.  

Neither of them were skating until the second half of the performance, but that didn’t stop them from being in full costume already. Yuri’s sequined tunic somehow reminiscent of both a nightclub and a ballet recital at the same time.

Otabek looked like he was ready for some sort of street dance off with the baggy sweatshirt and beanie, Ted tagging along behind him, reaching up like a toddler wanting to be carried. Otabek set him on a chair so the little bear could see over the boards and watch Victor and Yuuri and the Delibirds dance across the ice.

It was a good routine, Yuri admitted grudgingly to himself as they closed, embracing one another tenderly at center ice before the music changed and the lights swung over to the entrance where Minami and his Pichu were waiting.

The jazz-style tap routine suited them. Upbeat and perky, it matched Minami’s natural energy and was an inspired choice for his bouncy little Pichu. Sparks crackled from his cheeks as they skated around the rink, boater hats and canes in hand as they tapped and spun and tapped.

His form was...well, Lilia would be livid right now if Minami was one of her students. But he was a lot more consistent that Yuri had ever seen him.

Maybe he’d even be an interesting challenge next season.

Maybe.

When the music ended on a loud, brassy, blast, Minami and Pichu posed center ice with their canes out.

It immediately started raining flower petals on the two of them, looking up and around before the lights tracked over to the entrance, where Mila and her Bellossom were waiting.

Yuri had no idea how Phichit had pulled it off, but he’d actually managed to make something coherent out of their various routines, transitioning smoothly from one to another.

Mila and Bellossom glided to center ice, Bellossom waving a pair of ribbons and raining petals wherever she went. Mila danced through the storm of flowers, graceful and elegant in an ivy-green leotard with sparkling red flowers to match her Bellossom.

It was a routine reminiscent of the Russian ballet and highlighted all of Mila’s strengths. Her height, her grace, her spins. The expressive lines of her body.

As much as they liked to give each other shit (and though he would never say this to her face), Yuri had to admit she was an incredible skater. Holding the audience captive while she and her Bellossom danced, twirling ribbons and jumping between them.

And she somehow managed to not slip on the petals littering the ice and kill herself.

Yuri’s internal respect meter for her rose a few points as she brought the routine to a close, a giant puff of petals floating in the air before swirling around the rink in a storm.

When it cleared, Mila and Bellossom were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the Cripsino twins stood at center ice, wearing matching mime costumes, accompanied by Plusle and Minun.

Each of them started, waved. Then stooped down to grab a handful of petals that they flung at the other.

Their synchronization was incredible. Of course, they were twins, after all.   

A warm hand squeezed his bicep and Yuri looked over at his boyfriend. The soft smile that Yuri hadn’t even been aware of melted from his face, replaced with a scowl.

“What?” he hissed.

Otabek said nothing, just shook his head, lips curving faintly in his public smile. (He saved the real one for Yuri.)  

Yuri rolled his eyes and watched the Crispino twins perform an increasingly exaggerated tug-of-war, an imaginary sibling showdown with each one trying to control the other.

Finally, just when it looked like the two of them were about to collide, Chris slid onto the ice, popping up between them.

Yuri couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

The Swiss skater was relentlessly flirting with first one twin, then the other. They both rejected him, skating off the ice hand in hand as Plusle and Minun hopped along behind them.

Chris collapsed on the ice like he was broken hearted, huge exaggerated sobs wracking his body until…

“Smoo-CHUM!” Bisou stood at the other end of the rink, stomping her foot on the ice.

Chris reached out, imploring, batting those ridiculously long eyelashes and Bisou...Bisou turned her back on her trainer.

Yuri choked. This was surprisingly PG so far. And hilarious.

A familiar beat started to trickle through the speakers and Chris rose to his feet and started skating around the rink.

Yuri found himself tapping his foot along to the iconic beat of The Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me” as Chris chased Smoochum around the rink, desperately trying to win the miniature ice-type pokemon back.

It was interesting, Yuri noted, to see how different types of Pokemon reacted on the ice. The Delibirds and Bisou looked right at home, gliding around with ease, whereas the others had been more careful, tentative. Relying on their trainers and stationary tricks much more.

This routine was a lot more dynamic, taking advantage of Bisou’s natural ice type and Chris’ (usually overtly sexual) charm to, eventually, win his pokemon back, the two of them sharing a kiss at center ice before the furrets filed out for the intermission routine.

Yuri grinned, savage in the darkness. That had been good. But he and Sasha were going to blow the rest of them away.

Chapter Text

Seung-gil was up first after intermission.

Yuri waited behind the scenes, muscles warm, joints loose and limber. Headphones in, watching the lights and the other skaters from behind the curtain. Behind him, Otabek and Ted were rehearsing, going over some final bits of choreography.

Otabek was constantly pulling Ted’s paw out of his mouth, trying to get him to focus and Yuri had to fight back the urge to laugh as he stretched out his shoulders.

There was a small screen they could watch the other routines on, keeping track for their own cues.

Seung-gil’s routine started with the lights down, soft orchestral music slowly rising to match the trilling call of his Xatu as it broke the silence.

The lights came up to reveal Seung-gil, in a full tuxedo and top hat (complete with tails), standing at center ice.

He was the last person Yuri would have expected to do a magic-themed routine, but somehow...it worked? Puffs of smoke, ring tricks, Xatu disappearing from one end of the rink, while reappearing at the other, Seung-gil skating around performing different sleights of hand for the audience.

It was weird.

Entertaining, but weird.

Made even weirder by the fact that Seung was doing it with his usual expressionless mask in place.

Even Beka took his off on the ice, showing the audience the passion that lived in every cell of his body. But Seung-gil? He was impassive as ever as his Xatu swooped around for their last trick.

Seung held his top hat out at arm’s length, and his Xatu sped through the air, wings folding tight to its body as it barreled into the hat and rainbow coloured streamers exploded out the other side, Xatu disappearing as the crowd stomped and whistled.

Seung bowed, twirling the hat before placing it back on his head, his Xatu appearing to perch on his outstretched arm.

The crowd was still screaming when Emil’s Aipom ran out and swiped Seung-gil’s top hat.

Emil skated out, practically tripped over his skates, bowing and apologizing, promising Seung-gil he’d get the hat back.

The Korean skated off, supposedly in a huff but he seemed as impassive as ever as he left the ice.

The next few minutes were filled with Emil hilariously chasing his Aipom around the rink in a highly-choreographed chase sequence. As soon as Emil got close, Aipom would skitter away, taunting and teasing his owner with the hat.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Yuri grinned, slipping off his guards as Emil wound down, finally snatching Seung-gil’s hat back from Aipom and chasing the monkey-like pokemon off the ice. He got why Phichit had wanted entertaining now. This was a lot more fun than their regular routines.

An electric violin number started to play, reminiscent of Welcome to the Madness, but with more strings so it sounded almost like a punk band trying to play ballet, and Yuri slid out onto the ice.

Greeting the crowd, he waved, skating out in style, spinning into center ice with attitude. Mirrored aviators adding to the cool factor.

Yuri bowed, then gestured back behind him to the entrance.

The lights converged, fluttering around the entrance as Sasha emerged, standing proud and regal.

The audience screamed.

Sasha lay down with a fwump and the screams turned to laughter.

Yuri stomped a foot on the ice, completely out of time with his music now. (That was the whole point.)

He gestured again, and Sasha ignored him, staying in the entrance, off of the ice.

Fine. Yuri flipped his hair over his shoulder and skated off, throwing a few jumps and fancy moves out to the audience before turning back to Sasha and inviting her onto the ice again.

This time, she yawned, and settled down into her trail.

Pulling his sunglasses down, Yuri looked at her like really? He half-turned to the audience, getting them in on this with him.

Then, he held up a hand winking at the crowd  like he’d had a great idea, fumbling and fishing around in his clothes until he pulled out a treat.

Sasha sat up.

Skating forward, Yuri tried to lure her out, wafting the cookie forward, and the darting away.

They’d rehearsed this multiple times. Sasha knew she was getting the cookie when they were done. It was just a matter of timing it and keeping it just far away enough that she couldn’t--

She lunged forward and snatched the cookie out of Yuri’s hand.

-- do that .

Fuck . Now he had to improv.

Yuri stomped his skate again, crossing his arms before appealing to the audience.

Do you see what I have to put up with now? He said, using body in lieu of words.

They all laughed, the rock violin track out of time and completely incongruous with what Yuri was doing on the ice.

Yuri skated off, as if to cool his head, throwing a few jumps and Bielman in, just for the sake of it. Make it look like he didn’t care. Like he wasn’t paying attention as he circled the rink back to Sasha, intending to grab the cookie but she stood up as he skated close, her hair on end as she growled. Fiercely protecting the cookie between her feet.

Yuri staggered back hands up, pleading innocence.

Sasha wasn’t having any of it.

She huffed a small (very controlled) fireball at Yuri and he scrambled back, fleeing the flames. Gasps rose into the air as Yuri spun out of the way of the flames and then fell to the ice in a heap, one hand theatrically draped across his forehead, as though he had given up the will to live.

Sasha started munching on her cookie.

The entire arena was frozen for a moment before Bettina squawked and waddled onto the ice, offering Yuri a fin, pulling him up as if she were going to nurse him.

(Actually he was quite happy to stay there. The ice was a soothing balm against his sunburnt skin.)

Bettina shuffled him off the ice, and Yuri had to admit, she wasn’t quite as annoying as Katsudon.

“Good job, girl,” he whispered to Sasha as he passed her.

Bettina, however, stopped and glared at his Ninetails, slapping her with a fin.

Yuri’s jaw dropped.

The entire arena roared with amusement. Sasha was stunned, jaw hanging slack, tongue slipping out one side -- and not in a cute way.

Shaking it off, Sasha huffled. She stood up, flicked her tail, grabbed the rest of her cookie and stalked off, leaving a stunned Yuri and a triumphant Bettina behind her.

It took all of Yuri’s willpower not to burst out laughing.

Thankfully, the lights faded away from them, swinging over to the other side of the rink where Guang-Hong and Leo were sneaking out onto the ice.

They tiptoed out, over-exaggeratedly miming to be quiet. Behind them, Leo’s Jigglypuff was plugging an amp in near the entrance.

Grabbing a microphone, the little pink puffball tapped out a sound test. Leo and Guang-hong looked around, signalling an all clear to Jigglypuff who started to sing into the mic.

How the entire crowd didn’t fall asleep, Yuri had no clue, he thought. He headed back into the warm up area to cool down and clean off his skates, watching the routines on the tv for their final cue.

“Jig--gle puff. Jiggle jiggle puff. J-jig-jig-jiggle jiggle jiggle~puuuuuff" Leo’s pokemon crooned, the tune oddly familiar as Leo and Guang-Hong started to dance.

Then the backing track came in and Yuri groaned.

Of course Phichit had approved a routine to the fucking Spice Girls.

It was fun though, he admitted, as Beka came out to stand beside him. Yuri bumped his boyfriend’s shoulder with his own.

“You ready?” he asked, as Leo and Guang-Hong bounced around the rink, nearly as in love as Victor and Yuuri.

Beka grinned. “Yes,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on Yuri’s cheek before heading out to take his place on the boards.

Yuri grinned, and promptly ducked, scowling at Mila as launched herself at him.

They wrestled for a few minutes, Yuri uttering his usual empty threats while Mila teased him.

He ignored her as much as possible. Otabek was up next.

Right as Leo and Guang-Hong were getting into the swing of the final chorus the music abruptly stopped. Both skaters froze, turning to the entrance.

Guang-Hong’s Marowak stood there, glowering at both of them, amp plug in hand. An imperious finger ordered both of them off the ice and the two skaters complied, heads hung sheepishly.

Jigglypuff attempted to escape, sliding off in the other direction while Marowak watched the boys, but Marowak’s blaeful eye turned on Jigglypuff, spearing the round puffball in place. Jiggly cowered and followed Leo off the ice.

Yuri laughed.

The rink stayed empty for a moment, the whole crowd wondering breathlessly what was going to happen next. Was it over? Was that it?

Murmurs had just started to circle the ice when Ted waddled out of the entrance and over to the amp.

One paw (still) in his mouth, the little bear waved at the audience before plugging the amp back in and shooting a thumbs up to Otabek.

Yuri grinned. His boyfriend was leaning against the boards, much like he had been for Welcome to the Madness years ago. Except instead of a leather jacket this time he sported a loose white sweatshirt and baseball cap.

An electric rock beat filled the arena, the kind of deep, pulsing sound you often only heard in a club. Otabek had mixed this track himself, and Yuri was positive there wasn’t a single person in the arena able to sit still.

Even backstage he wanted to just get up and dance.

Otabek skated forward, meeting Ted in the middle of the ice, and the two instantly dropped into a synchronized routine, break dancing on the ice.

It’s a great mix, upbeat and vibrant. And Ted’s never been the most...graceful pokemon. So the break dancing suits his style, stubby little bear paws doing a surprisingly good robot impression, claws giving him traction on the ice.

Yuri laughed as Beka started skating circles and forms around Ted, highlighting the little bear’s performance in the center before coming back to center and finishing with a bang, hoisting Ted into the air and striking a pose.

The urge to yell “davai” was strong -- their go-to on-ice phrase, so much of their relationship and how they supported each other wrapped up in those two little syllables. But it was also totally inappropriate for the setting. They’d made sure to say it this morning, before the ice, but that didn’t erase the urge, or the pride welling inside of Yuri.

Though the pride was promptly squashed by annoyance when a voice rang out…

“Let me show you how we do it...JJ STYLE!”

Yuri scowled. He got why Phichit hadn’t closed with him. But to close with fucking JJ? It still burned.

The Canadian had struck his usual pose, finger J’s declaring his identity to anyone stupid enough to not know who he was.

The plaid flannel and cowboy hat did nothing to lessen Yuri’s irritation as Beka slid off the ice to make way for the JJ and his...Growlithe?

What the fuck?

Yuri blinked, gaping at the screen as Otabek sat down beside him, cleaning off his skates.

“What the fuck?” Yuri asked as a country guitar started strumming, and JJ and his Growlithe started doing the figure skating equivalent of ice dancing.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize he’d have Prim copy King,” Beka said, twisting the top off of a bottle of water.

“King?” Yuri asked, surprise not stopping him from watching the way Beka’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Damn his boyfriend was sexy. There was a bead of sweat right there, in the hollow his throat that Yuri wanted to...

“His dad’s growlithe,” Beka said, Yuri’s attention snapping back up to his face, a satisfied smirk letting Yuri know he’d been caught ogling...again.

“They’ve had him since long before JJ was born. He’s old now, and can’t do much, but…” Beka shrugged, the implication clearly there that JJ was as emotionally attached to King as he was to Prim.

Yuri stared at him.

“Why are you friends with JJ?” he asked, disdain dripping from his voice.

“His mom makes amazing bear claws,” Otabek deadpanned, face expressionless.

Yuri sputtered, and Beka laughed at the look on his boyfriend’s face. “They’re a pastry, Yura, calm down.”

Because of course they were...not like he went around eating bear claws when he had Ted, Yuri thought, rolling his eyes.

“You’re friends with him because of a pastry?! He’s my biggest competition Beka.” Yuri was waving his arms now, agitated as Beka raised an eyebrow at him.

And I’m not? it said without words.

Yuri rolled his eyes again. You know you’re different. He shrugged a shoulder. You skate different. Ducked his head. I don’t mind losing to you.

Beka wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and Yuri leaned his head against Beka’s chest for a moment before Phichit whistled.

That was their cue. The finale was coming up, followed by one last bow from all of them.

Yuri stood up, reaching a hand down to Beka, smiling down at him for a moment. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

-------

The final number was another routine featuring Phichit and the furrets, a flurry of brown striped pokemon spilling onto the ice in intricate patterns as Thailand’s favourite figure skater whirled between them, skating, of course, to the The King and The Skater.

The crescendo.

The triumphant finish.

The crowd erupted, everyone on their feet, standing and screaming. Even from the shadows of the boards, Yuri could see the joy beaming from Phichit’s face.

The standing ovation carried on for minutes, Phichit eventually waving them all out onto the ice with him, Furrets unrolling a carpet for the pokemon to all stand on.

One by one skater and Pokemon pairs trickled onto the ice, each taking a moment to bow individually before making way for the rest of the crew.

Sasha gingerly stepped onto the ice when it was her turn, careful to keep to the carpet as she preened under the cheers and whistles at center ice. Yuri stroked her as he waved to the crowd, pulling her back with him onto the ice to make way for Leo and Guang-Hong.

She whined, butting Yuri with her head. Lifting her feet nervously, shifting in place, clearly uncomfortable. Yuri frowned, distracted for a moment from the cheers of the crowd. Should he get Sasha out of here?

He caught Otabek’s concerned stare as the Kazakh skater walked past, Ted sitting on his shoulders. (No doubt more so that the little bear couldn’t wander away than for any other reason.)

Subtly shaking his head at his boyfriend, Yuri shifted closer to Sasha as JJ walked out. Prim balanced on his shoulder and an old Growlithe, muzzle streaked with grey, limped out beside him.

Huh. This must be King, Yuri thought, watching JJ take it slow. Pacing himself to match the old Pokemon.

Despite his limp, King walked with dignity, careful to stay on the rug. He probably didn’t have the strength or the traction any more--

Sasha whined, bumping Yuri’s hand with her head. He stroked her for a moment,shifting forward so that the two of them were slightly out of line and back on the carpet once JJ had passed. With JJ and King staying on the carpet at the other end of the line, it looked almost intentional.

Beneath his hand, Sasha’s muscles relaxed immediately, the shifting stopped.

You really hate ice now, huh? Yuri thought, waving to the crowd with the rest of the group. Turning, on cue, to face the stands behind them.

That’s when he saw them.

Watery footprints in the ice. Little melted paw-shaped puddles.

Right where Sasha had been standing.

Oh .

Of course.

She’d been running hotter than before since she evolved. She boiled the pond at Chatuchak park the other day.

Of course she’d melt the ice.

Which would have been disastrous if she had tried to skate with him.

“Thanks girl,” Yuri whispered, still waving to the crowd, fighting the urge to drop to his knees and wrap his arms around her in the biggest hug he could muster.

She’d only ever been thinking of him.

His heart swelled, love filling every cell in his body.

God, he’d been an ass. Yuri ruffled her ears.

When they got back to Russia, he was going to treat her like a fucking queen.

Chapter Text

“...What the hell, Yura.” It wasn’t a question, or even really a statement. It was a baffled utterance of complete incomprehension.

“Isn’t it cool?” Yuri asked his boyfriend, angling his phone so that Beka could see the control interface.

They were on Skype for the first time since they’d left Bangkok three weeks ago. Yuri had been studiously avoiding video calls, or taking them outside, at the rink, at a cafe down the street…

Beka had been wondering what was up, but he’d never expected this.

What had started as a walkthrough of Yuri’s new, ground-floor apartment quickly turned into a showcase of...some additional features he’d had installed.

“It’s state of the art. Sasha can just push this” Yuri stabbed a green button attached to a square box on his wall, “and bam!”

Yuri whipped the phone around and Beka braced himself against the sudden wave of nausea. Sure, he was several thousand miles away in Almaty, but the motion sickness didn’t know that.

Nor, apparently, did Ted, who groaned and hid his face in Otabek’s lap as the video weaved and bobbed as Yuri showed them…

A video camera.

A video camera.

His boyfriend had installed a fucking security system in his brand new apartment.  

A video-based security system...that his Ninetails could activate at whim...so she could see and communicate with Yuri while he was at the rink.

Beka blinked, mouth hanging open. Torn between exasperated surprise and genuine affection.

“Well?” Yuri prompted, camera bobbing and spinning once again before landing on his face. “What do you think?”

His eyes were so bright, startling green lit from within by excitement.

“Don’t you think this is maybe, a little…”

“Awesome?”

“Overboard?”

“Pfft” Yuri blew a gust of air up, ruffling his bangs. Looking at Beka like he knew nothing, as though Yuri was so much older and wiser than he was.

“You’ll understand when Ted evolves,” Yuri said, pointing at the bear cuddled into Otabek’s lap. “He’s gonna be what, 7 feet tall? Hard to keep that in an apartment.”

An imperious flip of his hair said: Look at all the trouble I went through for Sasha.

Ted’s not Sasha, Otabek conveyed with a shrug of his shoulder.

“More like six,” Otabek corrected. “So long as I get an apartment with high ceilings, it’s fine.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow and sent a pointed look over Otabek’s shoulder at the wall. “Are those more claw marks?”

(No, they were the same ones as before, he’d just filled them with plaster and was waiting for his next day off to paint them so he didn’t choke on the fumes as he slept.)

Otabek sighed. “At least he doesn’t set things on fire.”

Yuri bristled and Otabek shifted on his couch, holding back a grin. “Sasha refused to skate because it would endanger both of us. She is perfect and smart and lovely and I honestly cannot believe yo--” Yuri cut off, glaring at the grin that spread across his boyfriend’s face.

Beka laughed as Yuri stuck his tongue out at him.

The sound filled the room around him and made him feel less alone. Like the distance between them lessened during moments like this.

Yuri’s glare softened, sliding into something deeper, more soothing. “You’re a jerk.”

“I love you too,” Beka said, the response automatic.

Hours later, after they’d hung up and Beka was in bed (alone), the question kept playing over in his head.

What was he going to do when Ted evolved?

-----

One Year Later

Exactly one year after the first Pokemon on Ice exhibition, Beka and Yuri were back in Bangkok for the second one.

Apparently it had been so successful Phichit was making it an annual thing. Which...actually Beka didn’t mind that. It was fun.

Because the thing about figure skating was that, during every competition, as much as you had to skate for yourself, you were always skating for the judges.

Always.

Something like this? Well…

Otabek threaded his fingers through Yuri’s as they waited for their cue. They were skating together this year and had pulled the first post-intermission slot.

Yuri squeezed back, black fingerless gloves an annoying layer between them.

(It was okay though, they had plans for those gloves later.)

Phichit nodded at them, signalling that they needed to head out onto the ice before the lights came up again.

They slid out onto the ice in unison, taking their opening positions, Ted between them.

Bright spotlights flooded the ice as the electric guitar screamed the opening notes to the exhibition routine that had cemented Beka’s fledgling relationship with Yuri years ago.

An iconic purple blazer and a studded black leather jacket skated out onto the ice. Somehow, they matched completely, despite vastly different costumes. They matched, their skating matched -- wild and frenzied, pumped up by the music and the crowd.

It was less of a dance together and more of a challenge, each one rising to meet the other, a tiny bear pushing between them to steal the spotlight.

Performing with Yuri…

There was something magical about it, Beka thought, countering Yuri’s triple axel with a quad Salchow.

Yuri came back with his air splits, and the crowd roared.

Beka threw in a backflip.

Ted slid out between them, taking center ice to do the worm. (The little bear was a surprisingly good dancer -- and, from the volume of their cheers, the crowd clearly loved him the most.)

Which was all well and good, except Otabek caught the glint in Yuri’s eye as they drew closer to one another.

The glint that said just watch this, motherfuckers .

(Also: Victor, you gross old man, eat your fucking heart out .)

They’d fought about this move multiple times. Otabek hadn’t thought it was a good idea, given the limited amount of time they had to practice but...

He grabbed Yuri’s wrist, the two of them turning in unison as they met in center ice, spinning together as Yuri leaned back, lowering his long, lithe form until he was nearly parallel to the ice. Beka’s support the only thing keeping him from smashing his head open as they spun around and around and around.  

Gasps from the audience.

Yuri had been right -- they loved it.

Drawing Yuri up they pulled out of the death spiral, flying apart, skating backwards before stopping, pointing to Ted in the middle.

The little bear (literally) slid into the spotlight, hopping up to start breakdancing. The fluffiest, most adorable robot ever, shuffling back and forth like a pro before dropping into a headspin.

(They’d worked on his dance moves over the last year, and he’d gotten surprisingly good.)

As he pulled out the spin, springing back onto his feet, Ted started glowing .

An unearthly white-yellow glow and Beka’s heart stopped. He froze, arms almost moving from his pose, saved only by years of grueling training.

Ted was--

No.

Holy shit.

Ted was evolving .

In the middle of their performance.

His little form stretched and elongated, growing and growing, still dancing. As though he had no idea it was happening.

The light brightened and Beka shielded a hand with his eyes, catching a glimpse of Yuri across the ice doing the exact same thing.

Oh good. At least they still looked synchronized.

The light cleared and a 6-foot tall Ursaring stood where Ted had been.

He roared and...kept dancing?

Otabek caught Yuri’s eye from across the ice. Totally frozen. He had no idea what to do. Or say. Or --

“Improvise!” Yuri mouthed at him, before turning around and skating off to throw in a jump.

Beka followed after a split second, heading in the opposite direction, the two of them somehow synchronizing from across the ice while Ted danced in the center.

He could tell, from the way Yuri landed, what he had in mind, and Beka followed suit as his boyfriend looped back towards center ice. They both dropped to their knees, sliding along the ice, arms outstretched behind him and damn Beka could feel that in his back. And his quads. And his spine.  

How the heck did Yuri do that one all the time?

Popping up, they met at center ice, hastily improving some choreography for the last few seconds of the song, stopping when Ted roared behind them, both men falling down as if shot.

Beka lay there on the ice for a moment, dazed and stunned, before a giant claw picked him up and carried him off the ice.

Holy shit.

What the fuck just happened?

-----

After the exhibition was over, Otabek stood backstage, staring at his Pokemon. The hulking bear towered over him (then again, he’d only creeped up another few inches to five foot eight, so most people towered over him).

Said hulking bear was also cradling Yuri’s phone, growling and grunting at Sasha. She'd stayed in St. Petersburg this year, more than content to stay home now that she could see Yuri at a whim. 

It might have been overkill when Yuri installed it, but the two-way video surveillance system was saving them right now.

There had been congratulations all around from all of the other skaters, lots of pats on the back, congratulatory handshakes, Phichit babbling about how awesome that was and how perfect that they’d managed to capture it on video and it was already making the social media rounds and Beka--

Beka could barely take it all in.

He stood there, dazed, when Yuri sidled up beside him.

“Well, he’s still in love with Sasha.”

It was so ridiculous, Otabek couldn’t do anything but laugh. It ended on a long, drawn-out groan.

Panic seeped through the shock, slowly chipping away at his usual reserve. Stoic mask dissolving as he breathed in Yuri’s scent -- icy jasmine, grassy fields, and musky sweat with the faintest hint of vanilla.

The words started pouring out of his mouth, the babbling uncontrollable.

“I’m gonna have to get a new apartment. I need to move. Fuck. Moving in Almaty in the summer. What’s my coach gonna think? What’s my landlord gonna say? He already hates Ted, even though I fix the claw marks.” He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Maybe my parents will take him while I look for somewhere to live?”

He looked up at Yuri, brown eyes wide and beseeching. Yuri shifted, lean form blocking Beka from the line of sight of the rest of the room.

Yuri reached out and grabbed Beka’s hands. Just holding them.

“Breathe,” he commanded, exaggerating his inhale so his boyfriend could follow along.

Beka shook his head, looking down at the floor. He was fine. It wasn’t that kind of panic.

Just…

He shot a glance over at the big bear, who was waving a paw at Yuri’s phone. Sasha was on the screen, and she chirped something back to him.

Holy shit.

“What am I gonna do ?” he asked, gaze swinging over to Yuri’s. The bright, steady green grounded him. Eyes of a soldier. Something about them extremely...present. So present, they held Beka here, in this moment, every time he looked into them.

“Well, I do happen to know of an apartment that would be perfect for you and Ted.”

Beka blinked, not quite believing his boyfriend. “Seriously?”

Yuri nodded. “Yeah, high ceilings, ground floor, built-in security system, two bedrooms, decent rent. But…”

A flicker of apprehension crossed Yuri’s face as he trailed off.

“But what?” Beka prompted.

Yuri jerked a shoulder, looking away. Deliberately nonchalant about his next words.

“It’s in St. Petersburg.”

Otabek blinked, brain trying to compute exactly what Yuri meant. The apartment sounded perfect, but why would he move to--

“Yuri, are you asking me to move in with you?”

Another shoulder jerk. This one slightly defensive, and thus, achingly vulnerable.

Beka’s heart did that thing where it sank in his chest. Not in a bad way. More like it relaxed, filling the space inside his chest with warmth and love.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You are, aren’t you?”

Yuri shook his head. “Forget it.”

He strode off but was stopped by Beka’s fingers locking around his wrist. He turned to look at Beka, strands of platinum hair falling across his face.

Beka nodded. He didn’t need to say anything.

Yuri reversed the grip on their hands, interlacing their fingers as he surged forward to kiss his boyfriend. Beka sighed, arms going around Yuri’s waist.

They kissed lazily for a moment before drawing apart. Foreheads resting against one another for a moment.

“Ted,” Otabek called, “how would you like to live with Sasha?”

The bear answered with an ear-shattering roar. Echoing throughout the arena, Otabek was sure there wasn’t a single person in the facility that hadn’t heard it.

“That makes him happy,” Yuri said, arms looped around Otabek’s neck.

“That makes both of us happy,” Otabek said, correcting his boyfriend as he nuzzled at his neck.

“What’s Sasha gonna think?” he asked after a moment. He didn’t have to move -- he could feel Yuri roll his eyes.

“She’ll flounce off, flick her tail, and be secretly delighted,” Yuri deadpanned.

Otabek grinned.

“Perfect.” He pulled out of his boyfriend’s arms and stepped over to Ted, one hand patting the big bear’s shoulder.

“Come on, big guy. Time to figure out how to get you home.”