Chapter Text
“I think I’m going to retire.” Yuuri doesn’t really speak to anyone in particular.
He might as well be talking to the ceiling, since he’s all alone. Okay, mostly alone. Not actually alone, even though it feels like it after all the things he’s fucked up in the last few months. (“Stop being such a drama queen,” is the first thought that comes to mind - and it sounds an awful lot like Minako)
Yuuri is, of course, not alone - no matter how much his anxious brain wants to convince him otherwise. He’s got Phichit like always. Well, Phichit and his hamsters. Yuuri was sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling, still recovering a month after the disaster at Sochi. At first, his disgraceful performance had been vivid, burned into his eyelids. It was too bright, too much, and the feelings threatened to overwhelm him in the wake of Vicchan’s death, the worst performances of his life to date, and being yelled at by a very small, very angry skater in a public restroom while sobbing. And he couldn’t forget the gigantic snot bubble that had been attached to his nostril when that had happened. Those images had only been dulled by the horrific hangover the morning after the banquet, which was both a blessing and a curse.
At first he thought he would go home. He would apologize to Celestino, say goodbye to his rink and his roommate and his furry step-children, and go crawling home in shame, probably to work at the onsen for the rest of his life. He would never skate again, and take over with Mari when his parents retired, babysit the triplets, and eat as much katsudon as he wanted - after all, the rule about winning didn’t count if you weren’t going to compete anymore.
From his bed across the room, Phichit snorted. “Or you could not and say you did.”
That doesn’t even make sense , and Yuuri tells him so. Even after years of living in Detroit, the things Americans come up with just don’t make sense.
Nonsense or not, Yuuri considers what Phichit means. He loves skating. It’s magic and music and flying over ice like you don’t weigh anything at all, but it’s also pain and exhaustion and anxiety and depression and so many things that he’s tired of fighting. As a skater who isn’t naturally gifted like most of the Russian team (he will not think that name he will not , not after what happened at Sochi) or Christophe or naturally entertaining like Phichit and Emil - Yuuri has to fight and claw his way for every inch of progress up that mountain, and he’s so tired .
His train of thought is interrupted by the realization that Phichit is still talking, and Yuuri catches up to him mid sentence. “-on it. Blanche, Dorothy, Rose, what are your votes?” A moment of silence while he conferred with the hamsters. “They all think you should do it.”
“Really?” It shouldn’t surprise Yuuri that Phichit is being so supportive - he’s his best friend, after all. And while he’ll miss skating together, at least he’ll leave on good terms.
“Of course you should! You need a break from skating and this is the perfect chance! Plus, we can go to L.A. and see Leo!”
Rolling onto his stomach, Yuuri picked up his head and looked at Phichit in confusion. “What do you mean L.A.? Phichit, if I retire I’m going back home to Hasetsu. I won’t stay here.”
“That’s why you’re not retiring,” Phichit explains, sounding suspiciously like he does when he helps teach the Teddy Bear skating program. It’s the same tone as Phichit explaining social media to Yuuri for the umpteenth time, but that’s neither here nor there for the moment.
Shit . Yuuri really should have been paying attention. “So if I’m not retiring, what did I just agree to then?”
Phichit scrambled to sit up and face Yuuri with the kind of grin that meant trouble (and usually a hundred burpees from Celestino the next day), the hamsters poking out of the hood of his sweatshirt. “You, my friend, are going on Dancing With The Stars.”
Phichit loves his best friend - he really does. Yuuri is a great guy, a fantastic skater, and happily goes along with whatever insane plan Phichit comes up with.
The last part is mostly a lie. Most of the time, Phichit takes advantage of the fact that his best friend is actually a space cadet, and rambles on about his plan while Yuuri isn’t paying attention, and then gets him to agree before he knows what he’s actually getting into.
As much as Yuuri might bitch about this, he (almost) never regrets it later. (They only regret it when Ciao Ciao finds out about it and then makes them pay for it at the gym the next day)
All of those facts, plus watching said best friend bomb in Sochi, plus the envelope that had arrived while said bombing was happening, have added up to what could possibly be Phichit’s best scheme to date.
He is going to convince his best friend to go on Dancing With the Stars, have the time of his life, get to stay in L.A. for a while, hang out with Leo, rub elbows with some sports legends, and convince Yuuri that he isn’t actually going to retire from skating and that he really is a badass.
Phichit hadn’t even shared the best part with Yuuri - mostly because he knew he couldn’t without having to deal with Catatonic From Feels Yuuri afterwards. Using his extensive social media connections, Phichit had stumbled on a true gem in the world of skating gossip.
Viktor Nikiforov, focus of both Yuuri’s locker room and closet shrines, was going to be taking a break from skating to consider his career options, and had agreed to go on Dancing With the Stars to increase his exposure to American audiences.
Phichit had never been more thankful that Yuuri wasn’t on social media than the day he found that out.
Yuuri was going to lose his absolute shit when that news went public. And that was exactly why he couldn’t find out until… Honestly, probably until they were already at the hotel. Or maybe until he showed up at the studio for the first filming.
After sharing the non-Viktor related parts of his master plan with Yuuri (“C’mon, we haven’t seen Leo since Skate Canada! We can finally hang out with him without JJ around. Besides, they have In and Out. We have to go eat In and Out Yuuri. ”), Phichit handed him the letter from the ABC Studios casting office thanking him for joining the show and ignored Yuuri’s freak out about forging signatures.
“All that’s left for you to do is pick a charity that the money goes toward if you win,” he said firmly, handing Yuuri a pen. Yuuri opened his mouth in protest, but was cut off when Phichit continued. “And don’t give me any of that crap about you not winning. Everyone is going to get something this season, and you have to pick what charity you want your winnings donated to.”
Knowing when to admit defeat in the face of Phichit’s determination was another quality he admired about his friend. Taking the pen in defeat, Yuuri wrote down the name of a dog shelter that the pair of them had volunteered at during their off-season for the last few years.
Yes, Phichit reflected, this was exactly why he loved his best friend. He crumpled like wet paper in the face of helping dogs and his best friend’s plans. And when those two things were the same… Yuuri Katsuki didn’t stand a chance.
Instagram exploded while Yuuri was at the rink three days later.
He wasn’t really practicing anything - after all, if he didn’t come back to skating there was nothing to practice for. No, he was just there to clear his head, and had been skating figures with his earbuds in for longer than he cared to think about, occasionally throwing in a salchow, an Ina Bauer, or whatever else felt good at the moment. Ever since they had faxed in that paperwork from Celestino’s office, Yuuri had been filled with a nervous energy that he couldn’t burn off no matter what he did. Hours at the gym, sleepless nights at the rink, runs that usually pushed him past his limits… Nothing worked.
It would take an act of God to get Yuuri to admit it out loud, but he was actually excited for the show. That didn’t mean he wasn’t working himself up into a panic about it every other hour of the day - even if he felt more of a natural as a dancer than a skater, he knew he was far from the best out there. Who else would he be competing against? Before Phichit had taken his phone away the night before, Yuuri had gone down a wikipedia spiral, making inhuman noises of terror whenever he found another list of past competitors. Pop stars! They had Zendaya for crying out loud! There were people who were dancers for at least some part of their actual career that they made money from! How could he possibly compete against someone like that? (He, of course, ignored Phichit’s retort of “Yuuri, you big anxious dork, you make a living dancing. On ice. On blades. You are dancing on a slippery surface on knife shoes. You. Will. Be. Fine.” )
Just as he was re-starting his playlist for the fourth (fifth?) time, Alyssa - one of the rink’s Junior competitors - skated up to him with tears in her eyes, practically bouncing out of her skates.
Skidding to a stop, Yuuri ripped out his headphones, music quickly replaced with the girl’s excited babbling.
“Oh my GOD,” she squealed. “Yuuri I can’t believe it! I can’t wait to watch you on TV ohmygod ohmygod I’m going to have skated with a TV star! And you get to- Oh Jesus, I can’t even. You get to dance with her. And you get to compete against- God, it’s just too much. It’s too much!”
Yuuri stood in front of her, dumbfounded. Had Phichit told someone? He had sworn his best friend to secrecy - a futile promise given his social media presence - but he was pretty sure that Phichit wouldn’t have talked about this until they had everything finalized.
“Whaaa?” Was that a word? It was supposed to be a word. It was as close to a word as Yuuri could manage in the moment.
Alyssa’s apparent bullet train of thought screeched to a halt as she stared at Yuuri with wide eyes. “Dancing With the Stars? They just announced who’s going to be on the next season on Instagram! Why didn’t you tell anyone you were going to be doing that? We’re going ot have to have watch parties here. Maybe Jamie can organize them? I’ll have to ask her…”
Well, there was his answer then.
“Can I see your phone?” he asked weakly.
She handed it over and he tapped the video to play the whole thing through IGTV.
Dramatic music played as stage lights illuminated the words on the screen.
THE BALLROOM
HAS
NEVER
BEEN
HOTTER
A montage of clips showed athletes of all disciplines. As they flashed and faded on the screen, Yuuri thought he saw a swimmer, a soccer player, a gymnast… and was that a basketball player? There were at least two different figure skaters, but all the clip showed was their feet as they executed jumps and step sequences.
THE
COMPETITION
JUST
GOT
BETTER
The video was broken up by shots of the professional dancers. Yuuri couldn’t help but notice that almost all of the men were showing quite a bit of skin - he wasn’t going to have to dance with an open shirt too, was he? Oh god , that was the last thing he needed. He could hardly process the idea before names started to flash across the screen.
YAMAGUCHI
JOHNSON
DREXTER
SMITH
SOLO
KATSUKI
NAVRATILOVA
JONES
ESPINOSA
VAN ZANT
LOCHTE
BILES
HINCHCLIFF
COUGHLIN
and
NIKIFOROV
No. Oh no, no, nope, no, absolutely not. Yuuri’s eyes widened in horror as the name faded from the screen - though he was sure it would be burned into his eyelids - as it was replaced by the text
SEPTEMBER CAN’T GET HERE SOON ENOUGH
Was he dreaming? He was definitely dreaming. There was no way that this would be happening to Yuuri in real life. Looking down, he checked that he actually had clothes on and this wasn’t a nightmare where he showed up to the rink naked. Nope, there were his clothes. And his skates. His knees wobbled, and the last thing Yuuri remembered was mumbling something to Alyssa about needing to sit down and handing her the phone back before he collapsed on the ice in a heap.