#no plot only fluff

Venti is the very definition of "work smarter, not harder"

He likes being lazy so that's why as soon as he gets schoolwork from your teacher, he immediately works on it so he can get it over with quicker.

It's probably out of character for someone so carefree to finish work early and even efficiently, but perhaps not?

After all, he can lounge around in bed more if he's got nothing to worry about.

Your childhood best friend is an enigma.

Unfortunately you've got no time to puzzle his logic when it comes to academics when you have to worry about your exams.

While you're cramming for tomorrow's tests, Venti is doing nothing but lay on your bed and playing the flute.

"Oh my Archons, stop playing the flute!"

You irritatingly snatched the offending wind instrument and lightly hits his head with it. Venti lets out an exaggerated "OW!", clutching his forehead with his other hand reaching shakily for the sky.

"Argh, you gave me a concussion, sweet friend! Is this the end for me?"

You roll your eyes, shaking your head at his theatrics. "It will be if you don't get your dramatic butt off my bed and study with me."

He sighs and stands up, plopping down on the floor at the side of the small wooden table where strewn papers full of notes and books laid on the surface. He looks at you. You look like you are pushing yourself past your limits. Venti is tempted to make a joke about what brand your eye bags are, but held himself back just in case you were serious about ending him.

"Hey," he reluctantly calls out to you. "Maybe we– you should take a break? You look like you haven't slept at all. Were you studying all this time?"

You nodded without looking at him, grumbling under your breath the keywords that would help you memorize terms you need to remember.

That's it.

Venti slams his hands down on the table, making you yelp and place a hand on your chest. You glared at him.

"What's that for!?"

"Time for a break! I'll get you some snacks. If I catch you reading a book..." Venti jokingly threatens, even narrowing his eyes at you. For good measure, he places your favorite bookmark on the page you were reading and closes it.

Alright. Perhaps he is right. You were so sleep-deprived that nothing is really registering in your mind anymore, so you let him arrange your notes neatly before leaving to get something to eat. You placed your arms and head on the now clean table, closing your eyes to rest them. About a couple minutes later, Venti is back with some apple juice and sliced fruits to snack on.

"Glad to see you're actually taking a break and listening to me." He cheerfully notes, placing the tray on the table before taking an apple slice for himself. "You know, I can help you study if you just ask. You don't have to needlessly push yourself too hard."

"I know," you reply, taking a sip of the cool juice. You felt refreshed, so you drink some more until the entire glass is empty. "I don't want to be a bother, though. And I want to do this on my own."

Venti's eyes softens as he takes your hands slowly in both of his, his thumbs tracing circles on the back of your hands. "You will never be a "bother" to me."

Your eyes widen, feeling your heart skip several beats like a rock thrown across a lake. You feel the ripple as pleasant tingles that originated from the warmth of his hands, spreading throughout your body. It made you relax. Suddenly, you feel the burden you put on your body and you yawned, becoming tired now that you're not as stressed.

Venti notices this and places your head on his shoulder.

"Sleep."

And so you did.

When you wake up an hour later, he did help you study. Venti explained the topic in a way that you could easily understand. Perhaps it's because both your desire for sleep and snacks were both satisfied, but reviewing what you've learned because much easier. You highlighted the important parts that Venti pointed out on your notes, and wrote down extra information that he explained to you.

"Thank you, Venti. I learned a lot." You smiled up at him. He really did not strike you as an academically intelligent guy. Now, you're not saying he's dumb, but all of his grades are all average that you now begin to suspect that he is keeping it that way on purpose.

"You're very welcome, friend!" He sing-songed, closing the book that he was using and began to put it away. He was humming as he did so. "Remember, I'm your friend! If there is anything, and I mean anything, I could do for you... I'm always ready to help you out."

"...Well, I'm kind of broke right now–"

"Not the financial kind of help." He shoots you a playful glare. "I'm broke too!"

You both laugh in unison.

You both made quick work of putting away books into both of your bags before deciding to hang out and watch a movie. Sure, you could do more studying, but you are both all tuckered out and just wanted to call it a day.

Venti picked a cheesy romantic comedy that is Christmas-themed. You both playfully argued that he should pick something else.

"It's July, for Archons' sake, Venti. Hardly the season for Christmas movies."

"Then let's make it a night for watching not-in-season movies!"

Venti used Cute Puppy Eyes. It was very effective.

You ended up watching Christmas movies all night until you both fell asleep. Thank gods you both shared a boarding room.

The very next day, at school.

You did not necessarily achieve the highest score in your exam. But damn it, you passed and that's what matters. To celebrate the end of both your suffering (honestly, it's just you who suffered. Venti was fine with his average scores and average grades), Venti decides to treat you to ice cream. He bought an ice cream sandwich for himself while you got your cone. He paid for it and took you to a peaceful walk on a nearby park to unwind.

"How's the exam?" he asked you, taking a bite of his ice cream.

"Eh, I passed. How about you?"

He hummed, swallowing his bite. "It was pretty hard, but I also passed!"

"Neat."

He makes a noncommittal hum. You fake-yawn and awkwardly put your arm on his shoulder and he stiffens in surprise.

A pause. Your heart pounds.

He clears his throat and casually lays his head on your shoulder. You smile.

Victor Nikiforov had kissed him.

Victor Nikiforov had come to Japan, had announced that he’d be Yuuri’s coach, had spent months bossing him around, had tackled him to the ice and kissed him.

None of this has been adequately explained to Yuuri, but he’s afraid to ask in case it means he’ll lose whatever this is. He has to stop himself from staring at Victor all the time, both because he’s beautiful and because Yuuri never knows what he’ll do next.

It turns out he should have been watching even more closely, because the second Yuuri takes his eyes off the man to greet Makkachin, he makes a beeline for Yuuri’s room.

Victor has a thing about Yuuri’s room. Perhaps because Yuuri had previously denied him entry, he makes a point of finding his way inside whenever he can, peering curiously at Yuuri’s old textbooks and handwritten notes, asking for translations of the utterly mundane. He’s so far stopped short of prying into closed drawers, but Yuuri isn’t sure what he’ll get up to unsupervised.

He’s concealed his various fan merchandise from casual inspection, but there’s only so well you can hide things in a small room. He’d moved the posters from his closet to under his bed, because he’s absolutely certain Victor is going to go rummaging through his clothes one of these days. He’s already not entirely sure where his favorite tie went, and Victor had only said something cryptic about a coach’s prerogative when he’d asked.

When he catches up to Victor, his coach is predictably in Yuuri’s room, staring at something. At first Yuuri thinks it’s the bed - which is the same as ever Victor - but then the full horror of the situation unfolds.

One of his framed pictures of Victor Nikiforov is proudly displayed on the bedside table. It’s not even one of him skating; he’s in casual clothes, leaning against a wall. Victor picks it up, moving it closer to his face so he can inspect it, either not noticing or not caring about Yuuri’s entrance.

“Give that back, it’s not mine!” Yuuri sputters, making everything worse as he tries to protest and come up with an excuse at the same time. He’s never operated well when panicked.

Victor turns to him with the evilest of all his smiles, the one that’s wide and close mouthed and says he’s just devoured the canary.

“Yuuri,” he purrs, deliberately thickening his accent, “you should have just told me if you wanted me next to you in bed.”

Yuuri crosses the room to take the picture, not even sure why he thinks that will help at this point, but Victor just holds it above his head, taking advantage of his extra 3 inches. “We can still have that sleepover!” he continues, eyes closed in delight.

Look, Yuuri’s never been good at backing off from a challenge. He climbs on top of the bed and starts trying to pry the frame out of Victor’s hands. Victor starts laughing while he does, almost teary eyed with glee, and Yuuri has to hold on to him so he can’t back out of reach.

Demonstrating that he’ll also make unwise choices in pursuit of a meaningless victory, Victor grabs Yuuri around the waist and tries to throw him over his shoulder single handed, retaining his grasp on the frame with the other. For a moment it almost works, a testament to Victor’s upper body strength, but then they both go tumbling.

They manage to direct the fall mostly towards the bed, which creaks ominously at their joint landing, and Victor is still chuckling giddily against Yuuri stomach in the aftermath.

“Not yours?” he asks when he manages to catch enough breath for the words. “Are you saying you’ve been framed?” Then he peels off into laughter again, shoulders shaking with mirth. Yuuri stares at the ceiling sullenly, refusing to acknowledge the terribleness of the joke, or that any of this is happening.

Victor hauls himself up the bed so he can hover over Yuuri and block his line of sight. He’s schooled his face into a mask of seriousness, which Yuuri doesn’t trust one bit. “Maybe it was me,” he whispers conspiratorially, voice only wavering a little. “Maybe this was all a plot to get into your - Umpf!”

Yuuri shuts him up by pulling him down into a kiss, deliberately mussing his carefully styled hair as he does. What a ridiculous man.