Unexpected ▪ Yuri On Ice

Olivier Salad

When I open my door at 6:15 pm the light that shines in is almost blinding.

"Hi" Yuuri gives me a small wave from his position in the doorway.  I'm so blessed that he's still wearing that green jumper, his hair is still down.

"Hello again" I smile naturally, delighted by his presence, and let him in.

When Yuuri steps into the threshold of my property, when Yuuri looks around in the house my parents bought me to clear their conscience, the reality sets in.

The guy that I've been infatuated with for a year, the guy that makes my heart race and my toes curl, the guy who I jerked off to a couple of hours ago is in my house.

I don't know what I did to diserve this but I sure am glad I did it.

"Smells nice" he murmurs, probably refering to the thin slice beef sizling away on a frying pan in the kitchen.

"I pride myself in my cooking skills" I explain theatrically as I close the door behind Yuuri.

"If I had a dollar for every time you suprised me I'd be able to buy Stark Industries" Yuuri chuckles to himself,  following me as I go to the kitchen.

"If don't think so" I turn off the fire under the meat and put both pieces on seperate plates. I deliberately went for a really thin cut with no fat thanks to Pichits advice, I just hope he'll at least take a bite. Even that is progress.

"You're right.  Maybe Wayne Enterprises is more realistic" he leans against the door frame of the kitchen and smirks smugly. I wonder if he knows how hot that makes him look.

"Oh, that's a low blow Katsuki, some DC fan out there is crying at your words" we both chuckle as I sprinkle salt on the beef.

"It's interesting, I think if I were straight I'd be more inclined to prefer Bruce over Tony" he taps his index finger against his lips in thought. I'm told I do a similar thing when I'm thinking. I understand the appeal in it now; that finger is demanding my attention to be on those pretty pink lips.

"I'm not too drawn to ether of them really. They're too busy" I shrug, painfully pealing my eyes away to sprinkle herbs too.

"How does that make them less attractive?" He tilts his head and his finger stops tapping to just rest there. 

"Well I've always wanted someone I could shower with attention, someone that'd cuddle with me in the mornings. They don't have time to part take in that. Are you attracted to hyper success?" I try so hard to not imagine cuddling with Yuuri, peppering him with kisses, showering him in attention as I load the sink. It doesn't work very well, it's not like I haven't imagined those things before anyway.

"Well, no, and yes. You know, when you image yourself with fictional characters you imagine they make time for you because you're so special to them, so worth the sacrifice."

"Then you'll have no problem" flashing an honest grin, I walk passed him, equipped with both of our plates, and set them opposite eachother at my wooden square table where two glasses and an olivier salad await.

"Ha ha. Very funny" he says dryly, as If I was joking or something. I'm prepared to tell him I wasn't before I'm interrupted;

"Is this a Russian salad?"

He points to the bowl on the table, filled with vegetable and boiled egg and potato and not meat and mayonnaise as I'm mindful of Yuuri.

"Yep. I learned that from my mother" I beam at Yuuri, signaling him to sit down.

As a kid I was never the go out and play type. I'd hide behind the sofa and watch my mother cook with keen interest, wanting to be able to make the great food she made even though she refused to show me because it wasn't my 'duty'