Pitter Patter | Victuuri Adoption AU on hiatus

Mark Beginning: Act II

Valkyrie's P.O.V.

How do I begin to explain to Uncle Yuri that I still love dancing, but I'd like to quit doing it in a studio? Maybe I'll just be blunt, "I want to skate. Please teach me." But there's no way he'll accept that so easily.

I can't back down today, though. I didn't even bring my pointe shoes— so I can't take today's studio lesson. I have no choice but to push this door open and demand to learn how to skate. I should have at least rehearsed what I was going to say, though, because there's no way this is going to work smoothly. My only hope is to approach him not as my instructor, but my uncle, so that I can abuse his soft spot for me.

"Kiriya, you're early," he greets me approvingly, looking up from his position at the barre. He smiles when he sees me, but his smile fades when he sees I'm still wearing nornal clothes. "Need to change?" he asks, almost hopefully, because I think he can sense that I'm about to fire him as my ballet instructor

"Uncle Yuri," I begin, walking up and trying to return his smile. My tone, though, is heavier than I wanted, "I think I'm done dancing in a studio."

"What do you mean?" he asks simply, leaving the barre.

I swallow hard before it comes out in a rush of word vomit. "I mean I'd like to quit."

He frowns. "What? You just want to quit out of the blue?"

"Yes."

"Valkyrie," Uncle Yuri frowns, "where on Earth is this coming from? Is there something going on I need to know about?"

I swallow hard and try not to let my knees shake.

"Well, I don't want to quit dancing," I protest. "I just think I could do better on th—"

"Hold on," he interrupts. "Have you talked to your fathers about this?" he demands.

I shamefully hang my head, turning my gaze to the floor.

"Valkiriya," he pauses to grab the bridge of his nose and pushes upward, trying to calm himself. "Do you expect me to let you give up now? You have such incredible talent and dedication— you're one of my best students!" he exclaims, throwing his hand down, accompanied with the stomp of one foot. "Well, you did have dedication, at least," he sighs and gives me a look of bitter confusion. "What happened to that?"

I can see he's fighting to contain himself. With any other student, he would be cursing, or screaming in their face, or even just dismissing them without another word if he approved of the matter. But my uncle simply looks torn between confusion and frustration and maybe even sadness as he fights for me to stay.

"That's a high compliment, Uncle Yuri," I admit shakily, never having tried to quit ballet before and improvising as I go. "And you're right, I've worked really hard to get where I am with my skillset. But I'm sixteen, now," my breath begins to stagger as I sense I might lose this fight. "And I go to the rink every day and just watch people skate because it looks so wonderful, but it's just not enough. I would give my right arm to skate with them!"

I can feel my throat constricting, but I have to keep explaining myself. "I would do anything, Uncle Yuri," I beg. "Please, you could teach me how. I won't do anything dangerous. I just want to try."

I blink pitifully beneath the scrutinizing glare of his icy blue gaze. He smooths one hand over his tightly wound blond bun. He seems to be simultaneously collecting his answer and studying me. He purses his lips and finally sighs before responding again.

He sighs and shakes his head without meeting my eyes. "They did want to teach you, your fathers. But you got hurt when you were young—"

"Uncle Yuri, I'm sixteen!"

"I know, but you're not at any less risk if you fall again," he replies, his voice strained. "If you could convince your fathers, I might consider it, Valkyrie, but there's just no way—"

"It'll be safer if you teach me, but if you don't, I'll find someone else—" I blurt. "Anyone, even just random people at the rink, I don't care. If you want me to learn properly with supervision, then you teach me. But I will learn, whether or not you or Papa and Poppa support it."

He eyes me with a look of mingling anger and approval. He scowls and mutters to the floor, "I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?" I reserve the hope building in the back of my chest, sniffing and continuing to rub at my dumb escaped tears.

"Talk like some weird combination of Victor and Katsu- Yuuri," he steps forward and dries my tears with the slight of his hand. "You may not be their child by blood, but— God!— you sure are their kid," he says fondly. "But you can't tell either of them, if I do this for you, got it?"

He just agreed to teach me. He did just agree to teach me, didn't he? Excitement starts to percolate up from the soles of my feet into the palms of my hands.

"You'll teach me how to skate?" I dare to look up and meet the cold ice of Uncle Yuri's eyes.

He nods once, curt and surly. But before I can leap for joy he holds up a single thin finger.

"You better promise you won't tell Papa and Poppa," he says. "And they'll have my head if you get hurt. Heck, I'll have Otabek hand them my head on a silver platter if you get hurt under my supervision. And you know I wouldn't do this for any other person on the planet. You're lucky I love you, kid," he admits begrudgingly, arms crossed in front of his chest.

I rush forward into a bear hug, squeezing beneath his interlocked arms.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Uncle Yuri! I promise it'll be our secret. But don't worry, I won't get hurt— I'll be really careful. When can I start?" I bite my lip to keep from squealing like a kid.

"You want to start right now," he observes with an amused smirk.

I nod vigorously. I can feel him about to give in, but the door to the studio suddenly opens.

"Hey, this is a private—" Uncle Yuri starts, but stops short. "Well if it isn't James Jérôme Leroy," he rolls his eyes and walks forward, a smile creeping up his lips despite himself. "What do you want, JJ— this is a private lesson that you're cutting into."

"Sorry, I thought it wasn't supposed to start for another fifteen minutes," he glances at his watch and shrugs. "But I just wanted to know if you have any extra practice slots on the ice."

I've never seen this James Jérôme before, only heard of him. My sister says he's a jerk and a ladykiller. I try not to give face to my disgust but I can't help but cross my arms and snarl when he tosses a smooth once-over at me in the mirror. Uncle Yuri doesn't let the look go without commenting, coming to my rescue.

"Not my niece, Casa Nova," he warns. "But I might be able to work something out about the ice..."

I do not like the look Uncle Yuri is giving me right now.