Yuri on Ice (c) Mitsurō Kubo and MAPPA

~Coffee and Vatrushka~

"Yuri," Mila was peering outside the shop's window, trying and failing to see through the drizzling snow the night was blessing them with. "I think someone crashed into the dumpster."

"Probably some stupid drunkard," Rolling his eyes, Yuri went back to his sweeping, the young man very set on heading upstairs to snuggle up wit his cat for the evening. He wasn't in the mood to help some blabbering idiot and send his sorry ass away.

"What if he's dangerous, though?"

"And you're saying that while trying to send me out there?" Now the redhead was pouting and ever since they were kids, her pout always worked on Yuri. She practically guilt him into being her friend. Huffing, the sweeper leaned his boom on the side of the wall and grabbed his coat by the door on his way out. "If I don't come back in ten, call the cops. But make sure not to wake up grandpa."

"You're a hero, Yuri." Said Mila with a smile as the bells to the bakery jingled, signaling Yuri's leave.

Pilsetsky's Pastries sat right in the middle of a quiet street with other small businesses. Yuri's grandfather ran it with his grandmother before he was born, and still continued to run it even after she passed away. It was a comfortable little place to drop by if someone needed a fresh cup of coffee or sweet to prepare their day, or both if they felt like it. Yuri had been working there since he was a child, and he loved it, especially when his grandfather included some baked goods as payment.

Promising himself to sneak in a roll before bed, Yuri walked around the shop and peered into the alleyway that separated the bakery from the local thrift shop. Sure enough, he could see someone slumped against the dumpster, their form barely visible since the thrift shop's backdoor light needed to be changed.

Yuri slid his hand into his jeans pocket briefly, thankful that he kept his utility knife there. Despite this being a nice neighborhood, his grandfather warned him about local punks and members of the Bratva that would occasionally roam the streets for some unfortunate souls. Still, with a feeling of dread in his stomach, Yuri carefully made his way over to the figure, now able to see that it was a man holding his side, his head bowed and his hair nearly covered in snow.

"Hey," He called out, making sure to sound tough but calm. "You alright?" No answer. Was this guy so drunk out of his mind that he lost his hearing? Wouldn't have been the first time Yuri had seen that. "Hey," He tried again, walking closer until he was just a foot away. "You're gonna freeze your ass off if you sit in the snow all day." The man gave a grunt, and Yuri stepped back to make sure he wouldn't get caught in the splash zone.

"I'm fine," The man finally managed to say. His accent made the Russian pause. Was he a foreigner? "I just needed to rest for a few minutes. I'll be leaving." He said as tried to stand, using the dumpster for support. He was taller than Yuri by a few inches, even while slouching like that. He slowly straightened his back, but it looked like his second wind caught up with him and he was back on the ground, crouching and shivering.

"Holy shit," Acting on instinct, Yuri hurried over to the man (potential danger be damned), and threw his arm over his shoulder, helping him back on his feet with some difficulty. "Something's up with your leg? Is it broken?" Now that Yuri had a closer look, he could see a bruise on the man's cheek. Had he been in a fight?

"I'm fine." Repeated the stranger, trying to shrug off the blonde.

"Like Hell you are, you can barely stand!" Yuri exclaimed, taking a hold of the man's waist to keep him from falling again. "C'mon. If your legs aren't broken, then try to help me take you inside." The both of them would have blue fingers if they stayed outside like this. Acting deaf to the man's protests, the cashier half-dragged/half-lead the man back into Pilsetsky's Pastries.

"Are you sure we shouldn't wake your grandpa up for this?" Mila peeked out the door that lead to the lounge/counter of the bakery, throwing a large smile and wave at the man Yuri had brought back. The latter awkwardly waved back before Mila disappeared into the kitchen once more, watching Yuri carry both a tray of coffee and vatrushka and the shop's first aid kit. "Wouldn't he want to know you found some man with a bleeding hand from the street?"

"It's not like I'm gonna keep him here for the whole night," Said Yuri as he made sure he had enough coffee. The little shop was nice and toasty with the hearth they had in the lounge but the man needed to be warmed up in the inside as well. "I'm just gonna let him warm up and fix his hand."

"He said he got in a bar fight with a rowdy customer, yeah?" Asked Mila as Yuri made his way to the door.

"Yeah. Why?"

"The next bar is two miles away from here."

Yuri held back a gulp. "Maybe he walked." It was lame, but Yuri didn't want to think the man had gotten that injury for darker reasons. Besides, it was shallow and bled a little. Something like Yuri's knife could have made that cut, and the little thing was smaller than Yuri's hand. Right, he could keep telling himself that and avoid danger. He was sure he could.

By the time Yuri made it over with his things, the dangerous thoughts vanished. The older man was sitting quietly at the couch Yuri had left him, a blanket thrown around him since the coat he wore was soaked from all the snow. He didn't look as dangerous as his conscious was trying to scream at him that he was. He looked like some man just visiting the country, and Yuri hoped it stayed like that.

The blonde decided to look at the man's appearance, since the lighting was better and it would calm Yuri a little. The older man was wearing casual but nice clothing with suspenders. 'And he looks good in them.' Yuri thought with a hint of jealousy and, dare he say it, interest. Yuri pushed his thoughts aside and placed his things on the table in front of the man, knowing that standing and gawking was probably going to weird out his knew house guest(?) "Can you do it yourself or-" His question was answered as the man silently took the med kit and began to clean out his cut. Alright. Yuri pulled up a chair from a nearby table and sat across from the man, watching him.

He was even taller when he sat down, the Russian took of note. And he was definitely foreign, his features rugged and dark, his hair styled in a fashionable undercut, and his eyes a dark color that could surpass black. Yuri didn't even know that was possible.

"Is there something on my face?" Once again, the man surprised Yuri. Not only did he dress and clean his cut, he was already digging into the cheese and cherry pie. A piece of crust sat on his lip and Yuri couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, there is, actually." He said, pointing at his own lip. The man quickly grabbed a napkin and cleaned himself with the grace he could find among his humility. "That good?"

"It's delicious," Said the man with a pleasant nod, even if he looked impassive with his slanting eyebrows. "I haven't had the chance to have one of these since coming here, but a friend of mine says they are his favorite."

"I'm guessing you haven't lived here before, then." Said Yuri.

"Mm," The man nodded. "I just flew in a week ago for business. Been too busy to visit the local shops."

Yuri smiled, feeling a little impish. "But not too busy to start bar fights?"

"Dah," The man shook his head as he took a sip of his coffee, looking a little peeved. "He was becoming a nuisance and harassing the hostess. He got angry when I told him to leave her alone and," The man waved his injured hand. "You can put the rest together.

Yuri hummed, because he couldn't put the rest together. His story sound right, but something about it just seemed off to him.

"Are you the owner?" Asked the man, snapping the blonde out of his musings.

"No, my grandpa is," Yuri pointed at his name tag. He got a kick out of watching the stranger squint his eyes to read the translation. He really had only been here a week. "Yuri." He told him, taking the chance to take the second mug he bought and fill it with coffee and cream.

"Otabek," And now Yuri had a name for the face. A very handsome face at that. As if he were reading his thoughts, Otabek smiled a touch, something close to a smirk that would have Yuri melting, as he held out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Yuri."

"Sure." Yuri made sure not stutter as he shook hands with him, his hand still warm even after the pleasantries ended. "Are you going to be OK, though?" His attention went back to the foreigner's hand, who gave a reassuring nod.

"I'll be fine," There was a twinkle in his eyes. "I promise, this time." He said as he took another bite of vatrushka. "Are you alright, though?" Yuri tilted his head in confusion. "You had to come and see who was on your property, and gave them food and medical care. A stranger, no less." He dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "What I mean is, I'm sorry for troubling you."

"What? No," The cashier waved both his hands in front of him, trying to bow Otabek's worry away. "It's fine, really. I was worried you were going to be some drunken asshole who would piss on our wall. But helping you is no trouble," He threw in a reassuring smile. "Just warm up and don't worry about it. And finish your vatrushka! It's one of my grandpa's specialties!"

Otabek chuckled, his eyes twinkling again. "Yes, sir."

Yuri watched him eat with intrest, as if trything to see if he ate differently from the usual customers that came to Pilsetsky's. Otabek caught him staring but he didn't seem to mind. He continued to eat in silence, with the exception of talking with Yuri about little things here and there. Like if he needed more coffee or how he liked the weather in Russian. And while Otabek only said so much, Yuri found himself enjoying his company. And his suspenders. Damn, he really did look good in them.

Otabek had finished his pastry and coffee with a refreshed sigh. "Thank you. How much was it?"

"It's free. Don't worry about it," Yuri stood just as Otabek stood, knowing that he was going to protest and grab his wallet from his coat. "Seriously. I only let customers pay." He added with a small smile. "Consider it a welcoming gift to Moscow."

"If you are sure," Said Otabek after a long time, walking back to his coat to pick it up anyway. It had dried and it looked like Otabek could walk well enough without falling over, meaning that his time to leave was upon them. Yuri felt a little sad. He wish he could talk to the dumpster man more. He hadn't enjoyed a chat over coffee like this in a long time. Still, his grandfather had raised him to treat guests and customers with utmost kindness and respect, so he was more than willing to show Otabek to the door and see him off.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call you a taxi?" He asked as Otabek opened the door, the brisk yet chilling air greeting them. It had stopped snowing but Yuri was still a little concerned since it was late.

"I called a business associate of mine to pick me up- Ah," He waved at a sleek and expensive car that came driving up the street. Yuri bit back a sound of awe. Even all the pay checks he saved for years couldn't buy his family something that nice. "Thank you for helping me," Said Otabek as he gazed down at Yuri. Their heights were only slightly different and still Yuri felt like he was smaller and shorter. Oddly enough, he didn't mind. "I have no idea how I can repay you, but I will find a way."

"It was nothing, really," Yuri looked the other way and blushed. "No need to put it like that. I'm sure someone else would have done it."

"And yet you were the one who came and helped me, Yuri." He loved how his name sound in that accent. Yuri would have swooned if he wasn't clinging to his dignity like a lifeline. "Thank you so much. I'll make sure to come back here as a customer." At the boy's confused look, Oatbek gave another almost smirk. This man would be the death of him. "You said you only paid customers. And I want to repay you, so I guess you can say we found a middle ground." With that, he waved as he walked over to the car. "Good night."

"Good night." Yuri replied in a lost voice, feeling like he was floating as Otabek disappeared in the car and drove away. As the young man walked back into the shop, he slapped his red cheeks as a giddy smile appeared on his lips.

'I get to see him tomorrow!'

"Mr. Leroy is on line two for you, sir."

"Thank you," Otabek nodded at the driver and found the wireless phone, answering it. "Yes?"

"Whoa! Don't scare me like that again, Otabek! You just vanished without a word!" Said the voice on the other end as a few loud thumps could be heard. "Oh! I'm guessing you managed to persuade your new friend from Club Zhasmin to join us. You made sure he's comfortable, right?"

Otabek tapped a certain section of the car's wall behind him. The thumping became more urgent and loud, followed by muffled screaming. "As comfortable as he can be in a car trunk." This guy had better been worth the trouble. A scar like this on his hand was an embarrassment. "Are you going to kill him?"

"Now, now, I didn't say that. Don't need any blood on my hands tonight." Otabek could hear the 'tut tut' in his boss' voice. He was such a loudmouth and gung-ho guy. 'Crime Lord' wouldn't be the first words that came to mind when he thought of Jean-Jacques Leroy, but the man had a track record that said otherwise. "He just needs to come clean about the money he tried to steal from Leo. Maybe we'll hold him upside down over a river, maybe I'll spoil him until he feels guilty. I'll see how generous I feel once you get back." There was a pause. "By the way, did you find what you were looking for?"

Otabek took a look out the window. All he could see was himself. "I think I did." He remembered that warm smile. How he was severed coffee and food with gentle intent. How a literal angel swooped down and saved him with enough strength to beat him if he sensed danger. His heart swelled and he felt a sense of longing, wishing to see that angel once more with another cup of steaming coffee. His thoughts swam, imaginings of how his visit to Pilsetsky's Pastries would go tomorrow.

"I think I found my bride."

AN: Hello, there! Thanks so much for checking out my first ever Yuri on Ice fanfiction! I'm literally writing this at 5:00 AM in the morning because I had to write this out while it was still fresh in my mind. I hope you enjoyed taking a look at it, and I'm sorry if it seemed too short. I'll be sure to make longer chapters in the future. I'm not sure whether I'll keep this fic at a T rating or if I'll bump it to an M. We'll just see how things go, I guess ^^ Anyway, thanks so much for taking a look again! See you all in the next update!