Whoops! Someone very kindly pointed out that I had reposted chapter 4! Really sorry about that, here's the real update. I hope you enjoy

Yuuri groaned as the bright light of morning found a gap in the curtains and slanted across his face. The pounding headache was a familiar one and the bed seemed to shift unsteadily beneath him.

No, wait. The bed really was shifting, the springs giving way to the weight of another body.

"Ugh, Phichit... couldn't you at least knock before you come in? I don't suppose you've put some coffee on? I feel terrible." Yuuri pressed his face into the soft down of his pillow. "Why is it so bright in here?"

"Well, since this is my room, I didn't really feel the need to knock."

Yuuri inhaled sharply, the unfamiliar scent of the pillow filling his nose. Not his room. Not Phichit either. That explained why his blackout curtains weren't doing their job. Slowly, as though this were a horror movie and he was about to meet his untimely demise, Yuuri turned his head to look at the Stranger he was sharing a bed with.

And promptly buried his face back in the pillow.

Sat with a pillow propped behind him and a bemused smile on his face was a man who was definitely not Viktor Nikiforov, couldn't possibly be Viktor Nikiforov. Not even in his wildest dreams would Yuuri be in the same bed as Viktor Nikiforov. Well... maybe some of his wilder dreams...

The warm honeyed chuckle poured into his ears and melted his bones.

"And while I may not be Phichit, someone I am sincerely hoping is a roommate and not a boyfriend, I have in fact made coffee. How do you like it?"

Flashes of possible memories gave Yuuri an answer to that question that he definitely wouldn't be giving voice to. He cleared his suddenly dry throat and allowed himself to once again peek up at the person who might just possibly be Viktor Nikiforov. Even through one eye and with no glasses, and with the soft plushness of Viktor's pillow smushing his face, Viktor shone too brightly and Yuuri's heart rate kicked up a notch.

"Ah... umm... Black, two sugars please... V-Viktor..."

His responding smile was dazzling, his mouth a beautiful heart in his face and Yuuri found he couldn't quite handle it and buried his face once more.

The bed shifted beneath him once again, and once he heard the door close, Yuuri sat back up. He waited nervously, his fingers twisting agitatedly in the thick duvet. He was distracted momentarily when he realised the implications of his situation. Looking round he absorbed all the details of Viktor Nikiforov's room. It was everything he imagined it would be. Cool, sophisticated, and just so very... Viktor. He shrieked when something large and hairy jumped on him.

"Makka! No! Get down!"

Viktor had rushed into the room after the poodle although Yuuri couldn't see him, buried as he was below a mountain of curly brown fur. Before he even recognised the familiar feeling of anxiety building inside of him it was dissipated. As a rough wet tongue began to lick excitedly at his face, Yuuri began to giggle and then to laugh outright, his hands burying themselves in the poodle's fur and petting the overexcited pooch. He turned his face to the side to look at Viktor who was standing dumbstruck in the doorway, two steaming mugs in hand as Makkachin continued to lick enthusiastically at the side of his face.

"So this is your dog?" Yuuri asked, the laughter colouring his voice.

Viktor's expression softened. "Yes, sorry. She doesn't normally jump on people like that. She must like you. Isn't that right, Makka?" The last was spoken in a baby voice as he ruffled the curls on her head, her long ears flapping.

Yuuri delighted in the excitable poodle, and before he knew it, the three of them were snuggled together in bed as though it were the most natural thing in the world. They drank coffee, and chatted and cuddled and once Makkachin had wondered off to find something more interesting to do, they made love again.

Gone was the feverish desperation from the night before. Yuuri still felt like he was in a dream but this one was warm and comfortable and tender. Their lovemaking was slow and sweet with peppered kisses and murmured words of adoration. They barely knew each other but in the quiet stillness of the morning, with nothing pressing waiting for them, and no clock striking midnight to steal Yuuri away, they uncovered secrets, told stories of their pasts and by the time Yuuri left late that afternoon, it was as if they had always known each other.

Viktor saw him to the door.

"I want to do this again. Not the sex!" He exclaimed. "I mean, of course I want to have sex again but I want to date. You. I want to date you properly, take you out to dinner, find out everything about you. Is that okay?"

Yuuri nodded, suddenly shy again. Then, before he could lose his nerve, he grabbed the lapel of Viktors robe and pulled him in to a quick but passionate kiss.

"I'd really like that."