A/N: Hullo again, my filthy human toilets! It's been a while, hasn't it? I've been suffering the worst case of writer's block for the past couple months or so, ironically a couple weeks before YOI came out. Still haven't updated any of my original books… So here I am. Please enjoy! ~Mina

[Da, Gaspodin]

A Russian Sebastian, but, you know, without the demon part…

~(^A^)~

"Rise and shine, Господин(Gaspodin)!"

Yuuri stirs in his sleep at the loud, clear voice that disturbs the previous quiet atmosphere. Rolling over onto his side, facing away from the intruding voice, Yuuri snuggles into the pillow underneath him and attempts to fall back into his deep slumber.

Until the curtain covering the window is whisked away, allowing beams of yellow tinted sun rays to cast themselves across Yuuri's body, and unfortunately right into his eyes. Blinking against the powerful light, Yuuri grudgingly holds a hand up to shade his eyes, quickly finding the dark clad figure standing beside his bed. As Yuuri continues his slow process of waking up, the aroma of sweet-smelling tea finds its way up Yuuri's nostrils, calming him of whatever anger existed within him caused by his early wake.

"Good morning, Господин(Gaspodin). Beautiful day it is today, hmm?" The figure towering above him sets the tray holding the white and golden china set on the bedside table, then gently grasps Yuuri's shoulders, sitting him up to lean against the wall behind him.

"Hmm?" Yuuri asks sleepily, rubbing his right eye with the back of his hand while he watches the man reach over him for the tray, carefully pouring the lovely smelling tea into a cup, then holding it out for Yuuri to take. Yuuri takes it without question, and takes a small sip, the taste of honey, milk, and green leaves bursting into his mouth.

"We've got a lot to work on today, so it would be best if you finished quickly so you can get dressed and begin your busy day, Master."

Yuuri finally pauses mid-sip, and furrows his eyebrows at the strange lingo used by the man clad in black.

"Sorry, did… something happen while I was sleeping?" Yuuri lowers the cup from his lips, and finally looks up at the polite man, who had turned towards him after Yuuri had asked the question.

"Whatever do you mean?" Bright blue eyes bat in amusement at the quick morph of facial expressions on the Japanese man's face. First it was a bored look, since he had just woken up, then it changed to a look of pure confusion, then to embarrassment. The dialogue that matched all three visuals made it even more enjoyable.

"Oh, Viktor...hmm, Viktor?...Wait wha- V-Viktor!"

Yuuri gapes at the Russian man in front of him, dressed in a full black butler tailcoat, complete with lustrous golden buttons and a golden chain leading to what he could only assume was a pocket watch to match. His silver fringe is slicked back with gel, leaving only a single stubborn hair that hung in front of his eyes.

"Is something the matter, Yangu masutā? Do you need me to wait a few minutes outside before we begin dressing you?"

Yuuri's eyes widen, and he quickly places the cup in his hand down onto the bedside table to his right.

"N-Nien nien nien nien nien!" He accidentally calls out in German, waving his hands back and forth in both alarm and to stop the man clad in black as he started towards the door left open a crack. Viktor pauses mid-stride at Yuuri's distressed call, and turns back towards him.

"What's going on? Why're you dressed like that?" Yuuri asks after a few beats of pregnant silence, scooting a little to the side of his bed so he could swing his legs over and sit fully up, now completely awake due to this unpredictable occurrence.

"Well, Master," Viktor adjusts the white cloth on his arm, and takes a few steps closer towards Yuuri's bedside, until he stops when his knees hit the bed frame. "Just for today, I will be your personal butler. The theme of your next project is a royalty, no? It is my duty to make sure you feel the environment of being pampered nonstop, so that you can capture the ideal image of a fine, sophisticated yet spoiled aristocrat."

Yuuri studies Viktor as he thoroughly explains his appearance, and finally the young man draws a conclusion, smirking slightly as he replies. "Are you sure it isn't so that I can eat as much as I want, then tomorrow you'll make me do twice the workout to burn it all back off?"

Viktor smiles back, confirming Yuuri's suspicions by baring blinding white teeth. "Possibly."

Yuuri awkwardly laughs, reaching behind his head and scratching his charcoal-colored bedhead. "Well, then... What was this 'busy day' you were talking about?

It's warm. Yuuri notes as he takes a large step outside the front door, and takes in a large breath of the mid-spring air.

"Gospodin!" The Japanese man hears from inside the house, the hollow floor thumping to the beat as the Russian man runs towards him from inside. As Viktor reaches Yuuri, he sighs of relief, and holds up a thick black material- the blanket Yuuri always keeps on the sofa for whenever he got cold.

"Put this on! We don't want your beautiful skin to be soiled by the filthy outside air!" He shouts excitedly, inching closer towards Yuuri as to wrap it around his shoulders. Yuuri, however, dodges Viktor's attack, and huffs.

"It's warm outside, Viktor. It's too hot to wear a blanket like that. I'm fine with the air, too, I go outside everyday. Let's just go to the rink and get our training over wi-"

"How could you say such a thing?!" Viktor cuts Yuuri off, circling his body like a vulture circles its prey. "For the harsh sun and disgusting bacteria in the air to contaminate your fair, porcelain skin- Unthinkable! Simply unthinkable!"

Yuuri's eye twitches slightly in annoyance, and once again steps out of Viktor's reach once he tries to capture him inside blanket again.

"Viktor! I'm fine!" Yuuri tries to assure his temporary butler, jumping out of the way as Viktor throws the blanket in his direction. "Let's just go!"

"But-"

"I'm the master, right?" Yuuri steps towards him, and stares him square in the eye. There's a few seconds of thick silence, and Viktor's blue eyes widen down at his temporary master. Yuuri never acted like this. Yuuri had never even raised his voice at Viktor once; but here he is, his chocolate brown eyes glaring up at him in mild anger and annoyance. Viktor's Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows, and then finally nods in response to Yuuri's question. "Then you have to listen to my orders. Let's go, now."

Viktor finds himself involuntarily nodding along, even as Yuuri takes several steps away from him, taking orders from his master such as a classic Victorian butler would-

Like a dog.

"Yuuri!" Viktor quickly shakes off the trance Yuuri had put him in, nearly chasing the shorter of the two down the pathway towards the cab Viktor had thankfully called before hand. The Russian man dashes in front of Yuuri just before he could reach for the handle and opens the car door for him, gesturing inside with a sweep of his left hand. "Please, take a seat."

Yuuri stares at Viktor for a few seconds, flabbergasted, before smirking and awkwardly chuckling for a couple seconds. "Smooth, Nikiforov." Yuuri teases, clambering inside to the back seat of the cab instead of protesting like he would have a few seconds ago.

Viktor lightly coughs into his fist to rid of the jitters this new Yuuri gave him, and brushes off the shoulders of his very expensive tailcoat before climbing in after him and shutting the door.

"Katsuki Yuuri-san?" The cab driver calls back to the two after the door was firmly shut, his thick American-Boston accent slurring his Japanese, so it took a moment for the two to understand him.

"Yes, that's me." Yuuri answers in fluent English, and the cab driver raises his eyebrows as the Japanese man spoke his-assumably- native language back to him. "I understand my butler here has already paid and directed the location?"

A shiver runs down Viktor's spine as Yuuri refers to him as simply 'my butler'. Ever since the Russian had started his own busy and delightful career as a professional figure skater, he had always been referred to as if he were on the highest pedestal. Mr. Viktor Nikiforov. Five repeat gold-winning champion. King of the Ice. Viktor Nikiforov: The Child Prodigy. Number one attractive bachelor. An idol, a role model. The list of great nicknames never seemed to end.

However, being just Yuuri's butler… Viktor never knew that being degraded would give him such a quick rush of excitement.

"Yessir." The American cab-driver nods in understanding, turning back towards the wheel and pulling the lever out of park, beginning to slowly roll away from the curb.

"Here's your schedule for the day, Gospodin;" Viktor turns towards Yuuri to his left, pulling a small flip-book from his inside tailcoat pocket. "We mustn't waste any time, and must finish our tasks by noon. First at 6:30 a.m. we have practice until 7:30, from there we go to L'Etoile at 7: 34 a.m., where we are meeting with a potential sponsor to negotiate payments, then at 8:00 a.m. we need to go shopping for a new wardrobe- the suit you decided to wear to this year's banquet was absolutely atrocious, then at 8:47 we must meet Yuri and Otabek at the airport, as we are hosting them in Japan for the weekend, we'll all have lunch at Paul's Pel'meni downtown around noon, and finally we head back to your parent's and stay there for the day. Any questions?"

"Not… that I know of…" Yuuri returns to his normal timid personality, turning his head to stare out the window to his right. Viktor pouts to himself a bit as he shoves his little notepad back into his inner pocket, as he had wished that Yuuri had continued to embrace his spoiled, conceited, confident self. The spoiled prince caricature was forming.

"Eros." Viktor barely murmurs to himself, covering his mouth with his white gloved hands, a precaution so that Yuuri wouldn't hear him. The Russian turns his head towards the clear window, but instead of watching the cars pass by around them, he closes his eyes and focuses on the scene that had occurred outside of the Katsuki family inn just moments ago.

'I'm the master, right? Then you have to listen to my orders.'

Viktor's mind quickly wanders back to a year ago, the first time he and Yuuri had worked together on a routine: In Regards to Love: Eros. Sexual love. 'Yes,' Viktor chimed to himself in his head. 'Eros' fits Yuuri quite nicely.'

Suddenly, something clicked in the Russian man's head, and his eyes snapped open, widening in unexpected realization. He could see the story unraveling in his head then. It was different from the playboy from Eros… The prince that moved with serene grace, held his chin up to others who didn't deserve his compassion, turned from those who weren't worthy of his attention, put himself above-

"Viktor?"

Yuuri's voice startles the Russian butler out of his thoughts, the image of a classy, pristine and cold prince fading from his sight, and quickly replaced by the warm chocolate brown eyes of the passenger beside him, leaning towards him with his eyebrows pressed together in worry. Viktor lets out a shallow sigh at smiles in Yuuri's direction, a silent message reading 'I'm fine, don't worry."

It takes a few moments for the expression of worry to clear from the young master's face, but even when it does, there is still a lingering feeling of disbelief. Viktor was generally a very happy, excited, and involved-in-more-ways-than-one man. Unlike himself, Viktor rarely spaced out- and Yuuri found out the hard way that when he does, it usually was something to worry about; it could be a good or a bad thing.

"What's bugging you, Viktor?" He finally decides to ask, and in response, Viktor's thin eyebrows raise in surprise. Yuuri fidgets under his intense stare, and he begins wondering who exactly were the butler and master in this situation. He finally decides to surrender, and he lets his chocolate brown eyes fall down to his lap, where his fingers slowly weave in and out around one another, something he only did when he was anxious and nervous.

"Hmm." Viktor hums a bit to himself, happily basking in the peaceful aura emitting from Yuuri as he turns to look outside the car window like before. "I'll tell you later."

After the usual morning practice, the meeting with Yuuri's potential sponsor went horribly wrong in every possible way that a formal dinner could. First, the greeter at the front of the semi-fancy restaurant didn't seem too keen on letting someone dressed as Yuuri was inside, and begrudgingly led them to their seats. Then she just so happened to spill hot coffee all over his front as she was heading towards another table, which she muttered something that was far from an apology in response for. Then, nervous and jittery in front of such a professional businessman, Yuuri accidentally spit his drink out all over the suited man, which Yuuri couldn't seem to stop apologizing for. After they had all finished eating and were preparing to leave, Yuuri remembered that he didn't have his wallet, and the sponsor representative had to pay for the both of them. By the end, the man was furious. However, Viktor pushed through with his charming skills and no less than perfect record as a world champion to get Yuuri the best deal he could.

Wardrobe shopping didn't go over well, either. It seemed that Viktor's and Yuuri's taste in clothing were more different than he originally thought they were. Viktor favored bowties and vests over a dress shirt on Yuuri, while Yuuri often drifted over towards the full clad suits and admired the details on the inside. Eventually, they almost left the store without buying anything, before Viktor's eyes caught a suit hanging behind the register, and Yuuri approved of once directed towards it. But, not before the cashier looked Yuuri up and down with a pitying look, as if he looked too poor to be able to pay for a suit like that. Unfortunately, the rude cashier was right, as the younger of the two hung his head in shame as Viktor happily passed over his credit card.

Now, the two had a little over twenty minutes before they had to go pick up Yurio and Otabek from the airport, and Yuuri was jittering in his seat, hoping this didn't go as horribly as the past two appointments had, all the while knowing how Yurio patronized and taunted him when he had stayed in England to train with them last summer. Viktor watched from the other side of the white airport cafeteria table as Yuuri's bouncing leg shook the small tabletop and rattled the stand against the floor. While his leg was bouncing from his overactive nerves, Yuuri had plunged his face into his hands since the moment they sat down, and Viktor continuously honed his ears toward him to reassure that he wasn't crying.

'Well, this isn't the dignified, spoiled aristocrat from before in the least.' Viktor can't help but joke in his head, resting his chin in his palm with his elbow propped up on the small table in an attempt to keep it in place. At realization of the sudden heavy weight on the surface, Yuuri finally realizes that his leg had been jumping out of control like an earthquake, and lifts his foot to sit on the chair, hugging his left thigh to his chest to stop it.

"Gospodin." Viktor finally speaks up after a while with a sigh, running a hand down the side of his face in mild frustration. "If you're worried about hosting Yurio and Otabek becoming a failure, I assure you, I can handle-"

"That's the problem!" Yuuri shouts into his hands, wiping away a few angry tears before Viktor saw them. "You can always handle anything thrown at you without any effort! Viktor, I'm not an amicable international sensation like you are. I can't swoon anyone with just a smile, I can't buy whatever I want with a flick of a wrist, I can't talk to professionals as if I know what I'm doing, and I certainly can't attract anyone who would possibly have a romantic interest in a mess like myself. I can't, Viktor. I can't be like you."

"That's not the point!"

The brunette suddenly freezes at the response to his complaint, and for a few moments he swears he had forgotten how to breathe. Yuuri slowly raises his head, and is shocked into freezing again to lock eyes with a pair of narrowed, angry cerulean eyes pointed in his direction. Viktor never got angry like that- he never dared to look at him like that before.

"You're not supposed to be like me." He continues on, this time in a more calm, stern tone rather than an angry one. "I understand that this is hard and frustrating- I know more than anyone how that feels. The man royalty that you are looking for deep down inside of yourself isn't like me. What I'm trying to do is help you find it, not discourage you from trying."

Yuuri finds himself lowering his head to look back down at his trembling hands, feeling as if he were a child being scolded. That is until he hear's Viktor's clear, coaxing voice that feels like a warm embrace of forgiveness.

"Yuuri. Look up at me."

Slowly raising his head once more to meet Viktor's eyes, the Japanese man can't help but let a small smirk form on his lips, as he gazes upon the Russian's formal Victorian butler uniform. "Look at you, giving orders, I thought I was the master here."

Viktor gives a small smile back, and reaches across the table to grip one of Yuuri's hands in his, and gives it a little squeeze. "That's better, Gospodin."

"Ugh, really? Gross, can't you ever stop touching each other for even five minutes?"

While Viktor blinks in confusion of the strange response, while Yuuri turns his head to the right and smiles warmly. Viktor does the same, and realizes it hadn't been Yuuri who had spoken, but whoever had stepped up beside them.

"Nice to see you again too, Yurio. Welcome to Japan, Otabek."

"Thank you." Otabek answers stiffly with a straight face, looking down at Yuuri and Viktor's joined hands on the tabletop. The two had just flown in from Russia where Yurio was hosting Otabek, so Yuuri understood that it was strange to see any form of PDA, romantic or not, between the same gender so suddenly.

"Whatever, piggy." Yurio plops himself down into a chair between the two sitting down, and runs a hand through his now long blonde hair. He kicks his feet up onto the small tabletop, probably not accidently kicking the two's joined hands as he continued to bark like an angry chihuahua."I'm tired as hell- had to leave St. Petersburg at three in the morning. And I'm hungry. You could stop wasting your time and get me some goddamn food someplace."

"Yura-" Otabek was about to scold Yuri for his rude language towards the person hosting him in his home country, before he is cut off with an unexpected reply.

"I won't take orders from a measly boy such as yourself. Unlike you, I'm spending precious time that I could spend working on my program to host you here, and I'd appreciate it if you'd either wash your filthy mouth out with soap and take the next flight back the hell to Moscow, or shut it and let me deal with it."

For a moment far too long, the area in the vicinity of the tiny white table becomes deadly silent, except the slow breathing of all four, and the quick tap against the tabletop as Yuuri bumps his leg against the stand, crossing his legs to the side of the small plastic seat.

"Y-Yuuri?"

Yuuri's chocolate eyes dart over to where Viktor sits across from him, but instead of a warm chocolate brown, they're cold.

"I don't recall giving you permission to address me by my first name, Viktor, but I suppose I can forgive you this one time. I can assure you, I am quite alright." Yuuri retracts his hand from Viktor's on the table top, and holds his hand in front of his face as he inspects his nails. After finding nothing under his fingernails, he huffs on them, and rubs them against the side of his thigh.

"What the hell just happened? Who are you, and what the fuck have you done with Yuuri?" Yurio demands, standing from his seat and leaning into Yuuri's personal space. Instead of retreating down into his seat and reclining in fear, Yuuri pauses his little manicure, and his eyes dart up to Yurio's green ones, his eyes unnaturally narrowing menacingly. This definitely was not Yuuri.

"You're too close."

"Oi! I asked you a question, asshole! Your name!" Instead of recoiling, Yurio flares up more, and their faces are only inches apart as Yurio sneers and nearly sticks his pointy nose into Yuuri's face. In response, Yuuri retrieves a napkin from his pocket, and covers his hand with it to push Yurio's chest away from his own.

"Yuuri Katsuki, of course, you very well know my name."

"Yu- Master, Gospodin." Viktor finally stands from his seat, pulling Yurio away from the table and pushes him into Otabek who had been standing silently shocked behind him the entire time.

"Viktor." Yuuri folds the napkin in his hand into fourths, and then holds the cheap papery material out towards his butler. "Take care of this. We have a busy day ahead of us, and I'd rather get started right away than get some strange Russian bug from this child."

"Hey! I can hear you, you a-!"

Yurio's protests are cut off as Otabek finally grabs him from behind, and covers his flapping mouth with a large hand.

Viktor stands in a daze, gazing down at the beauty of which Yuuri created. This wasn't what he had imagined, no… but it was Yuuri. It's was a part of him no one imagined existed. This was Yuuri's royalty. Yuuri's aristocrat.

"Viktor! Are you deaf?" Yuuri demands, standing from his seat and inspecting his butler's face. Viktor can barely hear his master's shouts, as he gazes down into his eyes. Strangely, and ever so slowly, a grin creeps onto Viktor's lips, followed by a full blown toothy smile that is hairs away from him plainly baring his teeth at him.

"Da, I heard you."

Yuuri scoffs, and turns away from his butler, at the same time he shoves the napkin he used to push Yurio away into his gloved hand. "You're a fool, Nikiforov. One may think you're a masochist, smiling after being scolded. Never mind that, let's get this over with, shall we?"

Viktor's blinding smile doesn't fade as he presses a gloved hand to his chest, and swoops his head down in a formal bow. "Da, Gospodin."