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“Oh this is useless,” Yuuri sighs and lets the newspaper fall over his face, his nose pressed into the help wanted ads. He’d not been considering the paper with any real seriousness; it had been discarded on his usual park bench, so he’d picked it up in the hopes that its contents would distract him from his predicament. Predictably, it had not. “What am I even going to say? ‘Hi, I’m Yuuri, a total stranger who checks you out in the park sometimes, I think our dogs should go on a date?’ This is a terrible idea Vicchan, why’d I let you talk me into this?”
From the ground Vicchan snorts in a way that sounds strangely chastising, which Yuuri figures he deserves. He had talked himself into this course of action after all; Vicchan had just woofed affirmatively at appropriate intervals.
And now, Yuuri is going to talk himself right back out of this, most likely, unless he can halt the anxious free fall of his thoughts.
So for some time they stay as they are, Yuuri mumbling his woes into the newspaper, Vicchan sitting at attention and trying not to squirm. He likes this spot, with it’s high vantage point and lovely view of the pond, but today he can’t bare to take in the view, and his leg shakes with nervous energy.
He hears footsteps coming down the path toward him.
The newspaper flutters against Yuuri’s face, but stays in place.
Approximately a month ago, an absurdly beautiful man and his poodle started walking by Yuuri and Vicchan’s usual spot in the dog park on a near daily basis. The man always gives a polite wave as he walks by, along with a smile that Yuuri can only describe as sparkly (and charming, and boyish and sweet and okay, so Yuuri has actually cultivated an expansive vocabulary of descriptors for the man’s smile, whatever). Yuuri always nods back, usually manages a half-second of eye-contact, and then looks at the ground until the man has passed, at which point he allows himself to stare at the man’s backside to his heart’s content.
On some days, Yuuri thinks the stranger’s smile means more. Today had started as one of those days, and when he’d set out with Vicchan for their walk he’d told himself that he’d try to maybe say hello or something, break the ice at long last. But now, anxiousness, heavy as lead, keeps him too still to even remove the newspaper from his face, despite the approach of those long-awaited footsteps.
Two things happen then, which shove the stillness from his bones with all the urgency of a train without breaks.
First, a harsh wind rips the newspaper off his face.
Second, Vicchan takes off after it.
“Wha--?” He mutters in reaction to the sudden return of his vision. Then, when he hears Vicchan’s delighted (and devious) bark, he shouts, jumping to his feet, “Wait, Vicchan sto--oh!”
Before Yuuri can take more than a step away from the bench, he walks straight into the stranger. Having no chance to catch his balance, Yuuri wobbles in place, instinctively reaching out to grab hold of whatever stable thing he can get his hands on. Strong hands take hold of his arms in turn, stabilizing Yuuri’s stance but utterly demolishing his composure because those hands are his --the stranger’s, the beautiful stranger whose eyes are absurdly blue up close, shining with surprise. Oh god.
“I-I’m so sorry,”Yuuri apologizes frantically, unable to do anything but stare helplessly at the man who is still holding him, is smiling down at him like Yuuri just made his day, “I didn’t mean to--”
“It’s alright,” the man says, and Yuuri finds himself quite suddenly acquiring a deep appreciation of Russian accents, “Though, I’m not sure that your dog will wait much longer for you to catch him.”
“Wait--?” Yuuri repeats, and turns (regrettably slipping out of the man’s hold in the process), to see that indeed, Vicchan is standing maybe thirty feet up the path, looking back as if waiting for Yuuri to follow him. Yuuri tries to communicate with his eyes just how desperately he wants Vicchan to stay put.
But then Vicchan barks, and chaos erupts anew as not only does Vicchan bolt, but the stranger’s dog does as well.
There’s a beat where Yuuri and the stranger stare first at each other and then at their fleeing dogs, shock mirrored in their expressions, before they burst into action, racing to catch up with their runaway pets.
“Makkachin! Come back here!” The stranger yells, as Yuuri shouts “Vicchan stay!”
The dogs pay them no heed, forcing the two to sprint down the trail after them.
“Th-this is ridiculous!” Yuuri says as he runs. A laugh tries to bubble its way up and out of him, but can’t quite manifest through his panting.
The stranger has no such problem, the sound full and warm as it escapes into the early spring air. “But fun too, don’t you think?”
Yuuri grins, helpless to resist the impulse because this beautiful man is laughing with him and is having fun and they’re on a wild chase through the park together, all of which is far beyond what Yuuri expected to achieve today.
The dogs finally start to slow as they come closer to the edge of the pond. Yuuri and the stranger exchange a look, then, before focusing on the flailing ends of the two dogs’ leashes.
Together they pounce, hands scrabbling at the dirt path in an effort to catch hold of the leash ends. The stranger cheers victoriously when he grabs his, winding his fingers through the handle as he gets to his knees. Yuuri likewise manages to catch hold of Vicchan’s leash, and loops it around his wrist twice to ensure his rebellious pup won’t be able to run off without him again.
“That was certainly one of the more exciting walks I’ve been on,” the stranger says, his voice breathy and teasing.
“Sorry my dog’s such a bad influence, Vicchan is usually better behaved,” Yuuri says, pushing himself up onto his knees. His face falls as his eyes take in the man’s disheveled appearance, his no doubt expensive clothes smeared with dirt and grass stains, his hair in disarray. “Oh no, your clothes are ruined now!”
Instinctively, in the way Yuuri has done hundreds of times to friends and family, he starts nervously fussing over the man, trying to brush dirt off of him and right his clothes. The man’s expression is complicated, that of someone given a gift they didn’t expect and that they have no idea what to do with. Yuuri’s not quite sure what to make of that--the man’s attitude has been nothing but positive, but the darker parts of Yuuri’s mind can’t help but suggest that he is probably at least a little put-out by this whole affair, by Yuuri and his fussing and his ill-behaved dog.
But then the stranger’s expression softens out into something like warm delight. His hands come up to catch Yuuri’s, and he says, with laughter still in his voice, “It’s more than alright, don’t worry. Between you and me, I think those two have been wanting to play together for weeks, anyway.”
Yuuri realizes then, with his movements paused by the other man’s gentle hold, just what he’s been doing and how close they are. His eyes go wide, his face goes red, and his body freezes up entirely. He needs, desperately, to put some space between them before he can embarrass himself further, but his body seems distinctly unwilling to move away.
So Yuuri is trapped, frozen in place on the ground, his hands half-entwined with the stranger's, not quite tongue-tied but not quite sure how to proceed, either.
It’s then that the dogs, once more, decide to take charge of the scene. Yuuri gives a yelp as Vicchan moves again, pulling Yuuri forward by the arm until he loses his balance. Gracelessly, he stumbles forward on his knees and lands against the stranger’s chest. His face ends up in the crook of the man’s neck, and he doesn’t mean to smell him but when he breathes in a scent--he’s not sure what scent it is, only that it’s probably his favorite now--fills his nose and lungs.
But that’s not quite the end of it. Vicchan runs circles around them, and Makkachin follows, until both of them run out of leash. Then they sit side-by-side, proud as can be of the mess they’ve made, and proceed to utterly ignore their masters in favor of each other.
Yuuri laughs first, and the stranger follows soon after, because what else can they do? Tied together from knee to waist, captured and bound by their own dogs after a chase that spanned half the dog park--it’s ridiculous, and hilarious, and the fact that the other man is laughing along with him, cheerful and amused, has Yuuri a little in love.
So he says, because adrenaline and proximity have loosened his tongue, “My name is Yuuri, and I think my dog want me to ask you out to coffee.”
The other man stops laughing but his smile, if possible, becomes even more blinding.
“My name is Viktor, and I think my dog wants me to say yes.”