Chapter Text
The first time Viktor Nikiforov meets Yuuri Katsuki (officially), he’s running late.
He’s been looking forward to this meeting for nearly a year yet somehow he still managed to forget what time he promised to be at the record label’s office. If asked, he’ll blame Makkachin and the poodle’s irresistable cuteness.
Viktor barrels down the halls of Grand Prix Records, sending interns scurrying for cover. He makes it to Yakov’s office without causing too much damage. He smooths down his hair, fluttering his hands excitedly before he’s turning the knob and opening the door and–
–And there he is.
“Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor breathes out.
“Oh! Yes, hi, hello! T-That’s me, I’m Yuuri,” Yuuri startles and turns to face him, his eyes impossibly round underneath his glasses. He’s different from the last time that Viktor saw him. Although to be fair, the last time Viktor saw him Yuuri was wearing five-inch heels and grinding messily against a stripper pole. Viktor flushes with the memory.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri says, shaking Viktor’s hand. Viktor wills his heart to settle.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, turning on the charm. He just barely resists the urge to kiss the back of Yuuri’s hand as if they were in some cliche Victorian romance novel. “And please, call me Viktor.”
“Viktor,” Yuuri says, stealing the air straight from Viktor’s lungs. Viktor’s about to open his mouth, probably to say something embarrassing, but then Yakov is clearing his throat and motioning for Viktor to take a seat.
“Mr. Katsuki, you got my email, yes?”
Yuuri nods and gestures towards the ponytailed man sitting besides him. “Yes, my manager and I reviewed it.”
Viktor tries to pay attention to the negotiations, he really does. This is important to him. After all, the public has been eagerly awaiting Viktor’s new album and he wants to surprise them. Viktor wants desperately to bring Yuuri into the project, Yuuri with his breathtaking dancing and his endless popularity. He’s willing to take anything, even if it’s just the choreography for one music video. Viktor tries to follow the rapid fire discussion, but Yuuri is so lovely with his soft, but sure voice and the way his gaze keeps flickering over to Viktor. He’s distracted. When most of the details and complications have been worked out Viktor breaks his silence.
“So, Yuuri,” he purrs. Yakov rolls his eyes. “Why did you decide to work with me?”
“Huh?”
“You disappeared off the face of the Earth. No one could get you to dance for them for a year. So, why did you respond to my email?”
Yuuri fidgets. “Well, you saw my video.”
“I did,” Viktor hums. “It was beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Yuuri says, blushing prettily. “I took your offer because- um, it’s always been a dream of mine to work with you.”
Yuuri locks his gaze with Viktor’s. “I’m a big fan. I was inspired.”
“A fan, huh? I’m a big fan of yours, as well. I hope we can continue to inspire each other.”
“For the love of– Vitya, please. If that’s all, I think we can wrap this meeting up here. We’ll give you some time to listen to the music before you sign the contract,” Yakov says.
Viktor hands over a precious copy of his newest album over to Yuuri with a wink. “Guard it with your life.”
“I will! O-Of course!”
“We’ll get back to you in a week,” Yuuri’s manager nods. Then, they’re sweeping out of the room, Viktor’s heart in tow.
“Vitya,” Yakov whirls on him as soon as they’re gone. “I thought I told you specifically not to flirt with Katsuki during the meeting.”
“Hmm? Oh, right,” Viktor waves a hand dismissively. “That wasn’t even flirting, Yakov. I was just… making a good first impression.”
Yakov considers him for a moment. “You really want this boy on this album.”
“Yes. Half the songs are about him anyways, it’s only fitting that he performs them.”
“You still haven’t told me where you met him.”
Viktor blushes. “That’s not important. What’s important is that this is going to be the album of the year. We will rake in lots of money for you, Yakov, please just– I need to complete my vision and he’s a big part of that.”
Yakov nods. For all his exasperation and yelling, he’s still the best manager in the business.
“Please, make sure he takes the contract. Offer him anything.”
Yakov sighs and runs a hand down his face. “I still don’t know what you see in that boy.”
“You will,” Viktor promises. “Everyone will.”
After the meeting, Viktor calls up Christophe for coffee. By coffee, he means overpriced flavored foam from the cafe next to the label’s office building.
“There you are,” Viktor waves Christophe over when the younger man finally makes it to the cafe. “I was worried you abandoned me. Again.”
Christophe sighs. “As dramatic as ever, I see. Mon chou, ça va? ”
“I’m doing well, Chris,” Viktor grins, taking a delicate sip of his flavored foam. “I met Yuuri today.”
“Ah, our darling dance star. How is he?”
“ Lovely,” Viktor smiles, before levelling Christophe with an accusatory glare. “But you would know more about that then I would, wouldn’t you? Considering you replaced me with him and Chulanont.”
Christophe shrugs, clearly not as guilty as Viktor wants him to be. “They’re interesting. You wanted me to talk to him and I did.”
“Yes, I wanted you to talk to him, not become best friends,” Viktor pouts.
“Aw, mon cheri, don’t be like that. You’re still my number one.”
“I know. I’m just jealous, you get to speak to him all the time.”
“This past year hasn’t been good for him,” Christophe admits. “He’s better now. He’s also very excited to work on your album.”
Viktor beams.
“So, you did talk to him about me.”
“I did. He doesn’t like to talk about the party, so I don’t push.”
Viktor winces. “Ah, I was afraid of that.”
Christophe hums.
“No matter!” Viktor declares. “I’ll just start from scratch. The meeting today went well, he’ll be in love with me in no time.”
“Invite me to the wedding.”
“You’ll be my best man,” Viktor smiles, before lowering his voice. “Really, Christophe. Thank you. I really like him.”
“I know.”
They sit in silence for awhile, enjoying each other’s presence. The world whizzes on around them. Jokes aside, Viktor had missed being around Christophe. They rarely get to see each other now that Christophe has officially left the music industry to become a world class supermodel. Viktor doesn’t blame him; the man has incredible thighs. Eventually, Christophe breaks the peace with a nudge to Viktor’s leg.
“You need to lock that boy down before he discovers The Salt album and never speaks to you again,” Christophe says, grinning.
“The Salt album is a masterpiece!” Viktor cries indignantly.
Christophe hums. “You are very lucky that Yakov refused to release it. It’s embarrassing.”
(The Salt album is actually titled “Y” because Viktor is both excessively petty and impressively unsubtle. It’s an album containing every lovelorn song Viktor had written in the year after Yuuri had blown his mind and then disappeared.
Viktor maintains that it’s a good album and resents the comparisons to Georgi’s work. Viktor doesn’t wallow in heartbroken misery; he pines gracefully.)
“The Salt album is irrelevant,” Viktor says. “Yuuri isn’t an ocean away anymore, he’s here. We’ll be interacting daily.”
“Ooh, interacting ? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Christophe winks.
“Not like that. Not yet at least.”
“Not yet, you say. When, Viktor? You spent a year chasing him and now you’re not going to make a move? What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t want to scare him,” Viktor admits quietly. “Seriously, Chris. I really don’t want to mess this up.”
“ Oh, mon coeur, you won’t. He adores you.”
“I want to take it slow. He deserves a proper wooing, true romance.”
“Okay, Mr. True Romance,” Christophe grins. “Now, update me on what’s going on at the label. Is Yakov still forcing little Yura into ballet lessons with his ex-wife?”
To clarify:
Viktor didn’t fall in love with Yuuri at the VMAs after party.
He was delighted, yes, but he wasn’t in love. He was just… interested.
So, he did what most people do when they discover something new and exciting: he crawled around on the Internet for any scrap of information regarding Yuuri Katsuki. He felt a little cheap, getting to know Yuuri through interviews and Phichit’s Instagram posts instead of face-to-face. He wondered if this is what his fans feel like.
Getting to know Yuuri in person is not an option, however, seeing as Yuuri didn’t call.
Viktor is sure he’d given Yuuri his number at the party. Even his alcohol soaked mind would have recognized that trying to contact Yuuri through carrier pigeon or smoke signals wouldn't have worked out, though it would’ve been incredibly romantic. He’s absolutely certain he’d printed his number in neat script over Yuuri’s collarbone while he was giving Viktor a lap dance. Viktor will never forget a second of that lap dance.
Theoretically, Viktor could have just asked Christophe to introduce them. Against all odds, Christophe is friends with both Yuuri and Phichit. But Viktor was stubborn, and he wanted Yuuri to come to him. He needed proof that Yuuri felt what he did that night; he needed to know that Yuuri felt the spark, the fireworks that seemed to go off when they locked eyes from across the room.
Their first meeting was a little unconventional, but Viktor wouldn’t trade it for the world. He’d never been so breathless from anticipation, so utterly captivated by someone.
He didn’t fall in love, though.
He fell for Yuuri in the lonely months afterwards.
Viktor felt a little pathetic, begging for secondhand information about Yuuri through Christophe. It wasn’t like Viktor was asking his friend to spy on Yuuri; Viktor just wanted to know if Yuuri was okay. Despite the visceral need to get to know Yuuri Viktor isn’t a massive creep.
A full year went by and just when Viktor was starting to doubt himself, convinced that the best night of his life was a one-time thing, just when Viktor was starting to give up, Yuuri posted a video.
It took all of Viktor’s self control to not just fly to Japan. He may be the most extra man in existence, but even he can recognize that showing up naked at the love of his life’s childhood home is a little too extra. Instead he bothered Yakov incessantly until he emailed Yuuri’s manager.
And now? Now, Viktor has months to unravel the enigma that is Yuuri Katsuki. He’s absolutely thrilled .
Viktor spends the rest of the week trying not to annoy Yakov too much.
That means annoying the living hell out of Yurio.
“He’s so pretty. Yurio, have you ever seen someone so beautiful?”
“Would you stop,” Yurio glares. “You’re so creepy.”
“The way he dances, wow! Have you seen the video he did for Beyoncé?”
“Yes. Lilia made me watch it. She said I need to work on my core and that Katsuki did it by dancing in heels.”
“Did she make you practice in heels?”
“For a week,” he hisses. “It was hell. I was actually dying. ”
“Wow, Yuuri must be more talented than I thought!”
“Can you shut up about him for like, two seconds?”
“Nope!”
“Get out! You’re so annoying, old man.”
Apparently, interns all the way on the 5th floor could hear Yurio slamming the door shut.
Viktor has seen probably every second of footage containing Yuuri's dancing that exists on the internet, but the first time he sees Yuuri dancing in person knocks the breath right out of his lungs.
Yakov told him that Yuuri had been coming in to use the studio while he contemplated their contract. He told him that Yuuri had said he wanted to get a feel of where he might be working for the next couple of months before he signed anything. Viktor had known that Yuuri was hanging around the label’s studio but he hadn't actually seen him for a couple days.
Viktor is heading home from a grueling day of sitting in his office and doing nothing but paperwork. It's late; almost everyone is gone, the offices dim and empty. He's just dropped some things off on Yakov’s desk and is on his way out when he hears the soft notes of a piano from just down the hall. Curiosity piqued, Viktor wanders towards the lilting melody. He stops just outside the dance studio, the door propped open enough to see Yuuri flying across the floor.
It’s like watching a painting come to life. The way that Yuuri holds himself, full of quiet grace underlined with a subtle, intoxicating strength, reminds Viktor of impressionist paintings. He thinks about how the brushstrokes seem to swirl about the canvas, dizzying with their bright colors and the suggestion of movement. That’s how Yuuri dances. Viktor watches him sweep across the room, eyeing himself critically in the mirror even as he turns and turns and turns. In his head, Viktor can see the deep blues of a Monet painting in the curve of Yuuri’s arms, the carefully crafted chaos of a Renoir piece in the bend of Yuuri’s knees.
Viktor is aware that standing awkwardly in the doorway while he practices is intrusive, but he can’t look away. Eventually, Yuuri notices Viktor hovering.
“A-ah! Mr. Nikiforov! I’m sorry I didn’t see you.”
“No, it’s my bad. I didn’t mean to interrupt. And please, call me Viktor,” he reminds gently, taking a step further into the room. “That was stunning, Yuuri.”
“It was just a warm up,” Yuuri mumbles, fiddling with the cap of his water bottle. “I-If you want, I can show you some ideas I had for the album work? Only if you have time, though, I don’t want to bother–”
“I’d love to see anything you have.”
Yuuri nods and takes another minute to catch his breath, stretching and shaking out his limbs.
“Okay, this is a rough outline and I’ve only had the album for a couple days, so–” Yuuri clears his throat and starts the music.
Any doubts about whether or not Yuuri connected with the music are cleared as soon as he starts to move. If his dancing earlier was an impressionist painting, his dancing now is an entire art gallery . Viktor can’t pinpoint the moments when Yuuri shifts, the style changing fluidly while he tumbles and twists and sways to the music. He matches the tempo perfectly, his body weaving in between the music notes. Viktor thinks of vines, thinks that the intense focus and taut lines of Yuuri’s body are like thorns. By the time the song winds down, Viktor is breathless.
“Please,” Viktor begs. “ Please, take the contract.”
“I-I’m still deciding. It’s a lot of commitment,” Yuuri pants, a shy smile gracing his face. “I’m glad you liked it, though.”
Viktor understands, he really does, but he’ll be crushed if he never sees Yuuri dance like that for him again. He stops by the door just before he leaves.
“If you take it,” Viktor says, locking eyes with Yuuri through the mirror. “I’ll look forward to working with you. You dance beautifully.”
“About the contract,” Yuuri says at their next meeting, sliding his copy of Viktor’s album across the table. “I’ll take it, but can I make a few adjustments?”
The initial deal was five music videos and an appearance on at least one award show.
Yuuri’s choreographed in many music videos, but as far as Viktor knows he’s only starred in videos for Phichit. Viktor wants to change that. He wants to show Yuuri off, showcase him to the world. Look , he wants to say, Look at him, the legend who brought Viktor Nikiforov to his knees.
Yuuri takes home the album, after their first meeting with strict instructions to listen to all of it and to not share it with anyone.
Viktor knows Yuuri is in high demand after his comeback. Honestly, he considers it lucky that Yuuri had decided to meet with him at all. Viktor figures he’ll probably try to get them to do three videos, maybe two if he’s been tied up with other projects.
Yuuri comes back a week later with a proposal for an entire visual album, half the choreography already planned out.
“I was inspired,” he admits timidly. “I couldn’t just pick five.”
“Wow.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, modestly, as if he didn’t spend what was probably every waking moment at a dance studio, listening to Viktor’s album on repeat. He tries not to get too hung up on that, but Viktor is ecstatic. Yuuri liked Viktor’s work enough that he dropped everything to dance to his music, exclusively. He liked it enough to be willing to spend months working with Viktor.
Viktor is surprised. He has a feeling this isn’t the last time Yuuri Katsuki will surprise him.