Archive of Our Own ^beta

Victor Nikiforov is about as accident prone as it’s possible to be, and takes it upon himself to bother Yuuri at ungodly hours with his latest mishaps.

It’s two in the morning in New York when there’s a frantic knocking at Yuuri’s door this time. Yuuri drags himself out of bed and his familiar, a little toy poodle named Vicchan, leaps down onto the floor and trots out into the living room with him.

Yuuri knows who’s going to be at the door, and trudges over to it in a soft, bleary eyed haze, still wearing his baby blue pyjamas and bed socks. Sure enough, when he opens the door it’s to his best friend and most hopeless crush, Victor Nikiforov.

And Yuuri gasps.

Victor’s sort of… suspended in midair. It’s like gravity doesn’t exist for him, his body floating a few feet off the ground as he struggles to flip himself upright from where he’d slipped upside down, his long silver hair like a waterfall beneath him.

“Oh my god…”

“Yuuri!”

Victor sounds inexplicably happy for some reason, despite the fact that he doesn’t really seem to be able to control his movements. How he got here is anyone’s guess.

“What happened to you?” Yuuri asks, grabbing Victor by the wrist, flipping him the right way up and dragging him into the flat before closing the door.

“Ran afoul of a witch,” Victor says cheerfully, grinning at Yuuri from where he bobs along next to him.

Yuuri rolls his eyes and drags him over to the clear space in front of the couch, which is sat in front of the windows looking out onto the lamplit street below. Victor hovers a foot or so above the rug once Yuuri lets him go and hurries to the kitchen, which is separated from the lounge area by a wall with a cut out window in it that serves as a sort of breakfast bar.

Plants are dotted everywhere, and there’s an abundance of cushions and throws, an armchair opposite the couch sits beside a fireplace, and a bookshelf takes up the entire wall connecting the two. It’s small, but homely, all low lamplight and deep, rich colours.

In the kitchen, which is painted a rich mustard yellow, Yuuri is busy rooting out his blender, as he’s a thoroughly modern witch and cannot be arsed with the whole pestle and mortar and cauldron thing, preferring the quick results of a hob. He finds the blender, slaps it on the side, and hurries to take cuttings of a few plants.

“Yuuri! What’re you doing?” Victor asks, trying to twist himself to see Yuuri through the gap for the bar in the wall between lounge and kitchen.

“I’m making a potion to fix you,” Yuuri explains. “Seems less dangerous than a spell, as I imagine if this other witch was thorough enough they put in a failsafe that would make a spell rebound.”

Yuuri frowns as he concentrates on working. By some stroke of sheer luck, he has all of the ingredients to hand. Belladonna, witch hazel, wing of dragonfly, and seed of poppy, along with far more obscure things, like the stuff that looks like liquid smoke as he pours it from a little glass jar into the blender. Yuuri whizzes the whole mixture up, and pours it into the pan. He brings it to a simmer, and stirs feverishly, biting his lip as he works. It’s not like Victor’s in any real danger, but he doesn’t know the side effects of the hex and would like to be quick.

“Right,” he says after the potion’s been simmering for twenty minutes, all of which Victor chatted merrily away for, apparently unconcerned by his predicament.

Yuuri comes back into the lounge to find Vicchan sniffing curiously at Victor’s head, as Victor seems to have managed to get himself flipped upside down again, but doesn’t seem too bothered as he coos at the little dog.

“Before you drink,” Yuuri says, setting down the little vial of potion he’d collected, and reaching out to flip Victor the right way up, “I want to collect a little bit of… this.”

Yuuri touches a hand to Victor’s chest and closes his eyes. He can feel the thump of Victor’s heart under his palm, lets it ripple through his awareness until it fills him and he can sense the hex laying hidden just below it, somewhere around Victor’s stomach. Yuuri smirks when he catches it, and memorises the shape of it, the feel. He won’t draw it out yet, as he mentioned, he’s not sure of what failproofs lay hidden in it. But he gets a taste for its maker, gets a brief glimpse of a face, the impression of a sharp smile and long, dark hair.

“Got you,” Yuuri whispers, and opens his eyes.

Victor’s been respectfully quite as he works, but he starts wriggling when Yuuri goes to fetch the potion, almost flipping himself back upside down in his attempts to pet Vicchan. Yuuri snatches up the potion again and grabs hold of Victor to keep him right way up, before holding the vial to Victor’s lips. Victor watches him with wide eyes as he drinks obediently. He’s offensively pretty and Yuuri tries not to let it distract him as he makes sure he drinks all of the potion.

When Victor’s done, Yuuri backs up a step and watches, nervous. Nothing happens for a moment, and Yuuri starts to feel a nagging worry. But just as he’s about to suggest they try a spell afterall, Victor falls to the floor with a yelp.

“Shit!” Yuuri swears, rushing to help Victor sit up.

“Ow,” he says bluntly, rubbing his elbow where he smacked it against the floor.

“Sorry, I should’ve thought of that and put a cushion down or something,” Yuuri fusses, checking Victor’s elbow and pulling a face.

“Or caught me in your big strong arms,” Victor says with a wink. “I know you can, you’ve carried me when I’ve been drunk before.”

“Well… yes… maybe…” Yuuri agrees, flustered.

Victor’s always been a flirt, and Yuuri tries desperately not to let it affect him, tells himself Victor’s like this with everyone, that it doesn’t mean anything. Phichit, Yuuri’s best friend besides Victor, tells him he’s an oblivious prat on the regular.

“How’re you feeling?” Yuuri asks now, as the two of them climb to their feet.

“I feel great,” Victor says, beaming at Yuuri. “All thanks to you, my witch in shining armour.”

“Psh, shut up.”

Yuuri gives Victor a gentle shove, hiding his blush as he goes to the chest beside the couch and opens it.

“What’re you doing?” Victor asks, popping up behind him and peering over Yuuri’s shoulder.

He rests his hand on Yuuri’s back as he does so, always so free with his touches. Yuuri again tries to not let this affect him.

“Making a jinx,” Yuuri replies, taking out the necessary items.

“Oooo, naughty, I like it,” Victor says gleefully, following Yuuri back to the centre of the room, where Yuuri drags back the rug so he can sit down on the bare hardwood floor.

He settles down and starts drawing out a casting circle with chalk around him. Victor stays well out of the circle, him being a veela, not a witch, which can make circles unstable.

The chalk Yuuri draws directly onto the wood will burn up with the spell, so he’s not too bothered about making a mess of his floor. He mutters as he works, strange words that have an odd shape to them, slippery, like they weren’t made for a human ear to hear, or a human tongue to speak. But of course they weren’t. They were made for witches.

Once the circle is complete, all interlocking patterns, symbols and lines, Yuuri lays crystals at the five points of the pentagram enclosed by the circle. They’re all of different colours, rose quartz, cloudy white, forget-me-not blue, pale green, and dark purple. Yuuri settles back and beckons to Vicchan, who trots obediently over and seats himself in Yuuri’s lap. Yuuri doesn’t really need his familiar for the spell. He’s advanced enough that he can perform spells without one. But he finds the little dog’s presence comforting, and Vicchan doesn’t seem to mind.

Yuuri snaps his fingers, and the candles dotted around the room flicker to life. Victor gasps and claps despite seeing this particular trick a hundred times. Yuuri tries not to show just how pleased he is by this. He lets out a breath, and closes his eyes. Then he starts to speak.

It’s those strange words from before, full of curious little shapes and bends. They fall from Yuuri’s lips like they were made for him alone, and Yuuri twists them to his purpose, narrows them to his intent. He summons the impression of the other witch he got from the hex on Victor, holds her in his mind’s eye, and pushes the building pressure in his chest outwards towards her.

There’s an odd feeling to the air as the spell gathers itself. A strange electric pressure like before a lightning storm. But more… other. A little bit less earthly. A little bit more elsewhere.

The pressure builds and then there’s a rush like wind through the apartment as the spell leaves Yuuri, whooshes out into the night to find the unlucky individual who thought they could get away with messing with Yuuri’s Victor. He sees a flare of light from beneath his closed eyelids, the spell circle flaring to life as it works its magic.

Yuuri lets out a deep breath and opens his eyes. Victor’s watching him wide eyed, a curious flush to his cheeks. Yuuri frowns at him, wondering why Victor looks a little flustered. He always seems to get that look when Yuuri performs magic.

“All done,” Yuuri says, the evidence that the jinx found its mark by the fact that the chalk casting circle is gone from the floor.

Not all spells need a circle, as Yuuri showed with his sensing spell and the lighting of the candles. But curses, hexes and jinxes have a certain weight about them, along with some of the more powerful white magic, and a circle will make the sure the balance isn’t thrown off if they’re done correctly. Things have gone very badly for witches who didn’t get their circle right. The witch who hexed Victor must’ve been carrying a circle on a piece of paper or cloth if she didn’t have chalk on her to draw a circle, which would’ve no doubt drawn attention to herself if they were in public. Yuuri’s seen it before, usually has a circle on him just in case of an emergency.

“What did you do exactly?” Victor asks, getting to his feet and reaching out to help Yuuri up as Vicchan jumps from his lap.

“Cast a jinx on the witch who hexed you,” Yuuri explains, unrolling the rug back out to its usual place on the floor. “Took her tongue so she won’t be able to cast anymore spells until she can find someone to undo it for her. She can’t mess with what’s mine and expect to get away with it.”

Victor gasps, and Yuuri realises what he’s said a moment too late. He flushes bright red and stares horrified at Victor, who’s turned a very pretty pink colour across his cheeks and nose.

“Not that you’re… not that I think… you are of course your own…”

Yuuri gives up on trying to explain himself and just groans, slapping a hand to his burning face.

“Yuuuu- riiii,” Victor purrs, delighted and putting emphasis on all the points in Yuuri’s name that make him go weak for this ridiculous man.

“Shut up, you know what I meant,” Yuuri huffs, and ignores Victor to head into the kitchen instead. He needs a cup of tea.

Victor bounces along after him, looking generally elated and tugging at Yuuri’s sleeve.

“You think I’m yours,” Victor coos, fluttering his lashes in a most distracting way.

“Yes, because you’re my friend, and witches have territories, and you’re part of my territory, not because I think… gah.”

Yuuri throws his hands up in exasperation before busying himself with filling the kettle and putting it on the stove.

“Oh I’m part of your territory, am I?” Victor says, sounding most smug about this.

“Goddess help me,” Yuuri mutters, firmly ignoring Victor who’s still bouncing around him.

“How did you even get yourself here like that?” Yuuri asks, trying to change the subject.

“Propelled myself between lamp posts or sort of… crawled along walls. Eventually some woman took pity on me and helped me get here.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“And how did you manage to get yourself hexed?” he asks next.

“Oh, well, um,” Victor says, and Yuuri turns to see him looking shifty.

A slow grin unfurls across Yuuri’s mouth as he watches Victor blush, unable to meet Yuuri’s eye.

“What did you do, Vitya?” Yuuri asks, knowing the name always makes Victor like putty in his hands for some reason and taking full advantage of it.

Victor glares at him for his exploitation of it. Then huffs out a sigh and runs a hand through his hair.

“Fine, I was… well I wanted to ask about… a spell. For something personal. And the witch offered me one, but I didn’t like the look of it. I said I’d pay her for her trouble of making it, but she seemed to be personally offended that I didn’t like her work. So, yeah. She hexed me.”

Victor looks shifty as hell as he talks about the spell and Yuuri frowns.

“You always come to me for spells,” he points out, feeling slightly hurt. Victor’s his friend, Yuuri is supposed to be his witch, not this other… woman.

Victor looks panicked by the hurt in Yuuri’s tone and reaches out placatingly, wide eyed.

“No, no, no,” he says quickly as the kettle starts to whistle. “Of course you’re the only witch for me, I just… needed you not to know about this one… it’s kinda… embarrassing.”

Yuuri frowns as he turns to turn the stove off, fetching two mugs and a teapot from the cupboard and dumping tea leaves in a strainer in the pot. He pours water over the leaves, taking his time before he talks, considering. Then he turns back as he waits for the tea to steep, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed as he considers Victor.

“You know I wouldn’t have laughed at you,” Yuuri says, taking in the way Victor still looks shifty. “I wouldn’t have told anyone either.”

“I know that, I just…”

Victor flashes a quick glance at him, before hurriedly looking away.

“What, Vitya?” Yuuri asks, stepping forward. “Tell me. Or don’t. But I’m sure I won’t think any differently of you.”

Victor bites his bottom lip, which is most distracting, and tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, which is always his tell for when he’s nervous. Yuuri reaches out and gently eases his hands out of their locked position. Then he holds them in his, returning the touch Victor gives so freely, so often, knowing it grounds him.

Victor gazes down at their interlocked hands, and then sighs.

“Okay,” he says in a small voice. “I wanted… I wanted something to help with… the ache.”

“The ache?” Yuuri asks, suddenly lost.

“In here,” Victor says quietly, and frees one hand to reach up and place it over his heart.

“Oh, Vitya…” Yuuri says, and folds him into a hug.

Victor melts into him instantly. He burrows his face into Yuuri’s neck and Yuuri tries not to get tugged into it, not to fall into the pull of Victor’s body against his, like the drag of an undertow, beckoning him to come and drown. Victor just needs to be held, he doesn’t need to know how Yuuri’s heart rate has picked up, how much he loves the warmth of Victor’s body, the feel of him in his arms, the scent of his hair, of his skin.

“Is it getting bad again?” Yuuri murmurs into Victor’s shoulder, strokes his hair as they stand entwined.

“A little bit.”

“You don’t have to downplay it for me, Vitya.”

Victor sniffles, and nods. Yuuri squeezes him closer.

“Okay,” Victor says. “Okay.”

Yuuri would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed. What kind of friend would he be if he hadn’t? He’s seen the way Victor gaze goes a little distant, how he doesn’t talk as much, doesn’t smile as much. He has his moments, the nature of his illness throwing him back and forth between happy and sad violently enough to give the veela whiplash. But lately it seems there’s been more lows than highs.

They stand there for a little while longer, healing, finding their way back together. Then Yuuri loosens his arms slightly, sees if Victor feels like letting go. Victor tightens his hold for a moment, but then goes lax, stepping back. Yuuri turns so Victor can wipe his eyes without being stared at. He pours out tea into the two mugs and turns back with them.

“Still take it black?” he teases.

Victor sticks his tongue out at him, apparently feeling better though he’s still a little red around the eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Yuuri laughs, and goes to fetch milk for Victor’s mug, dumping a spoonful of jam in there too because Victor’s a monster. They take their tea through to Yuuri’s bedroom, Victor climbing in to Yuuri’s bed without comment. They do this sometimes, having been friends for three years and Victor not always wanting to be alone even though he too has a dog at home.

“S’not the same,” Victor had said, when he’d first dragged Yuuri into bed with him, Vicchan and Makkachin jumping up to join them. “Need human body heat.”

Yuuri secretly loves these nights, though sometimes it’s hard to sleep when he’s so aware of Victor’s body against his, his warmth, the firm lines of him, the way he could just reach out and touch.

Yuuri clicks his fingers and the candles in his room flicker to life. He feels more like candlelight than lamplight, and tries to tell himself that it’s not because of the romantic connotations, that it’s not Victor’s influence.

“Where’s Makkachin tonight?” Yuuri asks as Victor strips down to his t-shirt and boxers, Yuuri looking everywhere but his long, bare legs, which are always smooth because of Victor’s fondness for shaving.

“At Chris’,” Victor replies, climbing in under the duvet with him, all his movements as graceful as dancing. “Wasn’t sure how long I was going to be and I don’t like leaving her on her own.”

Yuuri hums in reply, and they sit back against the pillows, blowing on their tea as they wait for it to cool.

“You know I could make the charm,” Yuuri says after a long while, voice a little hesitant. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

Victor chews on his lip, considering.

“Okay,” he says eventually, and takes a sip of tea.

“I’d make it so it’s like anti-anxiety drugs but without the side effects.”

“Yes, I did not like citalopram,” Victor agrees.

“Me neither,” Yuuri confesses. “It was great when I was really depressed, but for just general, low level anxiety, I found it suppressed my emotions. I wasn’t sad, but I also wasn’t happy. I didn’t really care about anything, and I couldn’t have fun or talk about anything interesting.”

“I remember,” Victor confesses, his voice gentle as he gazes at Yuuri in the half light of the candles. “I found the same, but that was before we met.”

“It’ll be like levelling out the chemicals in your brain,” Yuuri says, “or hushing some of the noise. But you’ll still be you. You’ll be able to be sad as well as happy, because that’s important. But not so sad you can’t function. It will ease the ache.”

Victor nods.

“That sounds good. See I should’ve just come to you in the first place. You’ve actually experienced what it’s like.”

Yuuri smiles a little sadly and pats him on the hand.

“Okay,” he agrees gently, withdrawing his hand to fiddle with his own charm, which he wears around his neck and helps with the loud thoughts that sometimes drag him down with them, take him to a very dark place. With the charm’s help, he’s gone eleven months without a panic attack. And Yuuri thinks Victor might just help with it too. Not completely, as sometimes his feelings for Victor eat at him worse than anything, but his presence is too good to not have a positive effect. He’s like a drug Yuuri can’t stop taking. No, that’s not right. Victor’s too good to be a drug, more healing than damaging.

Victor’s the best kind of charm.

They finish their tea chatting about lighter things, Victor making Yuuri laugh so hard he cries as he recounts the exact story of the hexing. And they settle down feeling a lot better. Victor’s arms automatically come and draw Yuuri in to him, reel him in like a fish that’s entirely willing to be caught. Yuuri clicks again and the candles stutter out.

Victor makes all these little humming noises as he get comfortable, and it’s so cute every time that Yuuri has to close his eyes. They settle, and Yuuri stares at the wall, his back to Victor’s chest and Victor’s arm curled over his waist. When the breaths on the back of his neck have slowed, Yuuri very carefully turns over.

Victor is beautiful in the slip of moonlight that’s spilling onto the bed where the curtains aren’t entirely closed. He’s like moonlight himself, silver hair spilling over the pillow, pale skin like marble, a statue of a deity made breathing. His eyelashes are pale like his hair, fluttering slightly in his sleep above cheekbones sharp enough to break on. His lips are a little thin, but they go with his elfin features, the strong line of his jaw.

Very carefully, Yuuri reaches out and traces his fingertips over a cheekbone. Victor sighs in his sleep and unconsciously turns his face towards Yuuri’s touch. Yuuri aches for him.

And Yuuri’s not just in love with him because he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. No, it’s also because of who Victor is. He’s funny and smart and goofy and a total dork at times. He’s kind and generous and a bit of a brat and he always makes Yuuri feel better about himself.

Yuuri tucks his hand back against his chest after a moment.

“Night, Vitya,” he says, and tries to settle into something like sleep.

Although it takes a while to get there, nights spent in Victor’s company always give Yuuri the best sleep. He awakes the next morning feeling refreshed, but finds the veela gone from his bed.

This is not a surprise. Victor’s always been an early riser and Yuuri can hear the shower going and Victor’s absolutely terrible singing voice echoing off the tiles.

Yuuri grins and rolls over to sit up. He drags himself out of bed and into the kitchen, Vicchan following along as always. He tugs a coat on over his pyjamas and grabs a set of keys off the little table near the door. Then he takes Vicchan down to do his business, before he comes back up. He’ll take him on a longer walk later.

Yuuri’s just finishing up a stack of pancakes with crispy bacon when Victor emerges, towelling his hair dry and wearing Yuuri’s sweatpants and t-shirt. Yuuri tries to ignore how much he likes seeing Victor in his clothes, how domestic and warm it is and how Victor’s probably pinched a pair of his underwear too.

When Victor started staying over Yuuri picked up what he knew to be Victor’s favourite face wash, cleanser and moisturiser. When they’d gone to get ready for bed, Yuuri had offered them to him.

“Oh this is a good brand,” Victor had said, turning the bottle of cleanser in his hands.

“Oh I’ve never used it,” Yuuri has said, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush. “I just know it’s the one you like.”

Victor had gone silent, and Yuuri looked up to see Victor watching him with the most curious expression.

“What?” Yuuri had asked, feeling suddenly self conscious.

“Nothing,” Victor has said, shrugging as he grabbed a piece of cotton wool. “You’re just a nice person.”

And Yuuri had blushed.

“Ooo, this looks good,” Victor says in the present, coming over and giving Yuuri a peck on the temple that makes him turn pink. “Want me to make coffee?”

“Please.”

They eat sitting at the bar, chatting about Victor’s upcoming season of Swan Lake, in which he’s the principal dancer, playing Odette in this gender blind version of the classic. Victor’s excited about the show, saying how he’d be bored if it was just another rendition of the same old piece, but the director handling it, Lilia Baranovskaya — fellow veela and one of the most successful primas in the history of Russian ballet — is very innovative.

Yuuri loves watching Victor perform. He’s always stunning, absolutely captivating and surprising. Victor’s natural grace born of being a veela, makes him a perfect dancer. But Yuuri would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little jealous of the other man who’ll be getting to play Victor’s love interest, Prince Siegfried. His name’s Otabek Altin, and he’s a bit younger than Yuuri, but apparently very impressive if he’s been given the role of the prince.

While Victor usually plays opposite women, this time he’ll be pretending at romance with someone of his preferred gender. They’ll be touching each other, playing at love, perhaps finding that all the heat they build up on stage needs a place to vent, will take it to the sheets as well as the under the lights.

Yuuri is trying very, very hard to be fine with it. Victor’s not his after all, despite what he said last night. They’re just friends and Victor can do what he likes. Yuuri tries not to look too closely at what this does to his heart. Because it feels a lot like it’s breaking.

When they’re done they decide to use Vicchan’s walk to fetch Makkachin from Chris’, Yuuri not needing to open the shop he owns and lives above for a little bit. He sells potions, charms, spell ingredients and enchanted objects. Curses, hexes and jinxes are for trusted customers only, and he puts fail safes in them so they can’t be used to truly harm, more just be a nuisance.

The morning is crisp with autumn, and Yuuri digs his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket as Victor loops an arm through his.

New York comes alive in Autumn. The run up to Halloween has the creatures of the city excited, pulling out all their best tricks for the holiday celebrating them. There’s a lot more mischief and general bullshit afoot, as well as street parties and club nights to celebrate Halloween.

Vicchan bounces along happily beside them, stopping occasionally to sniff at things and once attempting to chase a squirrel only to be prevented from doing so by his leash. He’s got a little bit of magic himself, but Yuuri has runes drawn into his leash so he can’t transport himself out of it to chase said squirrel.

“Oh no you don’t, you little shit,” Yuuri says as he feels the runes tug.

Vicchan gives him an afronted look, as though to say does Yuuri not realise that this squirrel has personally offended him and his ancestors and must be bought to account?

“No, no chasing squirrels,” Yuuri says firmly, making Victor laugh.

“Is he trying to teleport?” he asks, nudging into Yuuri as they walk.

“Yes, tiny idiot that he is. You are a creature of chaos, sir, and you shall stay on your leash.”

Victor just laughs harder, the sound of it like a shot of warm alcohol to Yuuri’s system.

Victor’s hair is plucked up in the breeze, playing around his cheeks which have gone rosy with the cold. He’s stunning, perfect in every way. And Yuuri is so very, very gone for him.

They chat about the mundane and the silly things as they go, occasionally making each other laugh and arriving at the old, beautiful building Chris lives in with smiles on their faces.

Chris is as big a flirt as ever, despite having got himself a boyfriend, but Yuuri manages to dodge the pinch he tries to give his butt.

“So you got Vitya out of a spot of trouble last night,” Chris drawls, looking rather pleased with himself as he leans his elbows on the counter separating his kitchen from his open plan lounge.

Yuuri is about to ask how Chris knows such a thing, then remembers Chris is psychic, getting flashes of certain things every now and then. Sometimes they’re things that make Yuuri blush as Chris promises he caught a glimpse of him in the shower, saying it was a very important premonition. Yuuri’s not sure he whether Chris is messing with him or not but decides to try not to think about it.

“Yes,” Yuuri replies. “Just had to get rid of a hex. Not too hard.”

“Oh he was wonderful, Chris,” Victor coos, fussing around Yuuri.

“I’m sure,” Chris agrees, sounding amused.

“Anyway,” Yuuri says pointedly. “I need to get back and open up the shop. Are you coming, Vitya, or…?”

“Yes, of course,” Victor says, bending to attach Makkachin’s leash where she’s been busy touching noses with Vicchan as though they’re greeting each other.

Yuuri again dodges Chris’ grope, and they set back off for the shop.

It’s usual to find Victor situated on a stool at Yuuri’s counter as the witch works. The ballet dancer has lulls between his roles, and while he’s always being offered jobs, he prefers to take breaks.

“To recuperate,” he tells Yuuri. Although Yuuri thinks Victor just enjoys sitting in the shop mostly. Why, he has no idea.

The shop is as cosy as the flat above it. All rustic, with jars on the shelves and dried plants hanging from the ceiling, as well as alive ones spilling their draping vines down from their pots, one or two of them glowing faintly from their petals. There are all manner of things in the jars, frogspawn and spider eggs, wasp thoraxes and glowing little lights that hover like miniature stars. There are also necklaces and bracelets, but these are kept in glass topped cases near the counter, the charms making some of them give off light, others less noticeable in their power but still seeming to hum with a certain something. There are also objects that look like they would be at home in an antique shop; a hand mirror in which the viewer is not visible, but rather glimpses of another world are hinted at like whispers on the wind. An ornate box, the key to which is kept securely in the safe in the back room. A pair of ballet slippers, which Yuuri had had to dive to stop Victor from trying on — “They’re cursed, Vitya, for the love of the Goddess”. A pair of gloves, which drum their fingers impatiently on the table they sit on though no hands fill them. And a little collection of books, some of them spell books, others the spell themselves.

Victor is in his usual spot, chatting away to Yuuri, who sits the other side of the counter on his own stool as he works on the charm he promised Victor the night before. He has other orders of course, but his friend is more important. When he passes the flowers as he goes to fetch a different tool, they seem to follow him, turning their faces towards him like he’s the sun. Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice, and fetches the tool before returning to the counter and repositioning the round, glass magniscope he uses to see the charm better.

Sometimes Yuuri’s brow furrows, and Victor goes quiet, letting him concentrate. But most of the time the shop is filled with his happy chatter. Yuuri is glad. It seems to be a good day for him.

Makkachin and Vicchan are asleep in front of the fire that burns in the hearth behind the counter, which Yuuri uses for making potions when he’s doing them down here, not having a stove in the shop.

“There,” Yuuri says, holding the charm up and smiling, pleased with his work.

Victor makes grabby hands, and Yuuri gestures for him to turn around. Victor does as he’s bid, sweeping his long hair to the side so Yuuri can fasten the necklace in place. Yuuri swallows as his fingers brush the nape of Victor’s neck, the skin warm, his neck long and elegant.

“There,” Yuuri says again, this time quietly. He swallows again.

Victor turns back to him, lifting the charm so he can look at it. It’s a piece of blue crystal, chosen because it reminded Yuuri of Victor’s eyes. He’s hung it on a gold chain, feeling Victor deserves to wear something prettier than the basic cords some of his other pendants hang from.

“Yuuri…” Victor breaths, his eyes round as he gazes at the pendant, the crystal cut into a teardrop shape, and something opalescent about the slight glow it has. “It’s beautiful.”

Yuuri manages to stop himself from saying something immensely stupid and embarrassing like “just like you.” Instead he just nods.

“I thought you’d like it.”

Victor beams at him, then practically throws himself at Yuuri to hug him.

“I can feel it working already,” Victor says, and his voice is almost a gasp. “I feel… lighter. Like there’s actually ways out of stuff that was just drowning me before.”

“Good,” Yuuri says, rubbing his back and trying to seem like he’s not smelling Victor’s hair.

Victor steps back from him, still all smiles, and digs his wallet out of his pocket.

“Oh, no, Vitya,” Yuuri objects, stepping back with a hand out. “You don’t have to pay for this.”

“But the parts for the necklace must’ve cost you, even if I don’t pay for your time, which I do want to.”

Victor pouts at him, and it’s really very hard to resist those puppy dog eyes. Yuuri’s sure he learnt the expression off Makkachin and practices it in the mirror. It’s far too effective.

“Okay, just, buy me dinner or something.”

“Deal!” Victor says happily, putting his wallet away and looking satisfied.

Yuuri should’ve known better. Victor’s idea of going out for dinner is always to a ridiculously expensive restaurant, which he’ll insist on dressing Yuuri up for, usually in something ridiculously expensive and showing only a little skin but enough to be teasing. He also seems to take great pleasure in feeding Yuuri mouthfuls of food off his own fork, which Yuuri can never resist because he loves food and he loves Victor.

“Should’ve known,” Yuuri mutters, but Victor just continues to look pleased with himself.

Victor leaves after a little while to change into his own clothes, only to return an hour later, looking gorgeous in a slim fit sweater and a pair of skinny, dark jeans, his hair up in a messy bun.

Phichit comes round too, apparently done with his own work for the day, because the two of them are apparently incapable of being without Yuuri for more than two days — Victor for more than one. The three of them get chinese and watch a bad romcom that makes Victor cry and Yuuri and Phichit howl with laughter over how dumb it is. Victor pouts and ignores them until Yuuri smothers him with a cuddle and he smiles again.

Phichit gives Yuuri a look when he resurfaces from the cuddle, but Yuuri pointedly ignores him.

The night ends with Victor and Phichit going home, Victor whining and making a fuss about wanting to stay, but Yuuri refusing because he doesn’t think he can take much more of how much he wants to kiss Victor tonight. His bed still feels very lonely even with Vicchan keeping him company.

It happens on an ordinary day, like any other.

Yuuri is making a charm. It’s a complex one so he’s sat in a casting circle in his lounge, his eyes closed as he works.

It’s a charm that requires a feeling of love, though it’s not a love charm. While they’re not illegal, their use is strictly monitored. Even without the restrictions Yuuri refuses to make love charms or potions, sees them as tantamount to the date rape drug. But it’s a nostalgia charm, and part of the nostalgia is a feeling of love, so Yuuri pours all of his feelings for Victor into the words that slither from his lips.

The charm is glowing pink he knows, though he doesn’t have his eyes open to see it. He can still sense the colour of his magic even when he can’t see it.

He’s just finishing the charm off when he feels something whoosh into the apartment. Yuuri opens his eyes in surprise and a moment later the curse washes over him. He lets out a yelp as it happens, and his surprise at being cursed makes his attention at holding the casting circle steady slip. He just manages to hurl Vicchan away from him, out of the circle, before it explodes.

The explosion is not like that of a bomb. The flare of magic is a blinding flash that crackles with energy, trails of it snapping like lighting around the room as something not from this world roars, clawing at the rift in between their planes. Yuuri gasps as he feels his reality tilt, scrambles to set it right.

The rift is sharp and screaming and Yuuri only just manages to slam it shut with the last of his strength.

Then there’s another flash, and Yuuri knows no more.

He’s floating.

There’ nothing around him or beneath him.

He cannot see anything or hear anything.

He goes back to sleep.

When he next awakes it takes him a moment to work out what he’s seeing.

His own body is lying on the floor. There’s a lot of blood, and Yuuri is looking down at himself from somewhere near the ceiling.

Vicchan is barking, trying to wake his human as he stands on his chest with his little paws. Yuuri hurts for him.

The little dog noses at Yuuri’s face, then stands straight again. A moment later, he vanishes. It takes a while for Vicchan to return, and when he does Victor’s with him, Vicchan using his own magic to let the veela in through the door even though he can only teleport himself.

Victor looks stricken as he hurries to Yuuri’s side, grabs his shoulders as he cries out his name. He doesn’t shake him though, seems to realise that would not be a good idea. He releases him after a moment, digs his phone from his pocket and calls an ambulance, then calls Phichit.

Yuuri’s fellow witch arrives in the hall outside his apartment in a puff of smoke and hurried inside, a trick which would’ve been wonderful earlier if Yuuri didn’t have wards set up to stop human teleportation in and out of his apartment. And even without the wards, teleporting out of a casting circle was not advisable at the best of times. Phichit hurries to Yuuri’s other side and starts chanting an incantation. He seems fearful of drawing another circle after the obvious accident Yuuri seems to have had. The circle Yuuri drew is burned into the floorboards, black against the wood.

But the bleeding seems to be slowed by Phichit’s work regardless, though to close the wounds completely he’ll need a circle. The paramedics arrive shortly after Phichit, and load Yuuri onto a stretcher.

Victor follows after, and Yuuri drifts along in their wake, feeling dazed by the whole thing. He obviously has a pulse or they wouldn’t be trying to save him, he reasons with himself.

After that Yuuri fades in and out. Sometimes he’s with Victor, watching him slap a paramedic when he tells Victor he can’t go in the ambulance, sometimes he’s… somewhere else. Yuuri doesn’t really know what to call that place, but it sort of reminds him of outer space. Only warmer. It’s very beautiful.

They perform an emergency casting circle at the hospital, the healer witches experts in what they do. They place Yuuri in the centre along with an austere looking woman whose voice holds a lot of power as she speaks Yuuri’s healing into being.

The wounds close, and all that’s left are fine scars, spidering out across Yuuri’s skin like lightning. There’s one that runs up his throat, over his his jaw and up to his cheekbone, another cutting a line down his brow and stopping just before it did damage to his eye. The rest are lower on his body, the main damage to his hands and arms, which must’ve tried to stop the explosion with his own magic, only for it to shatter.

Yuuri fades out again. When he next returns, his body is in a hospital bed, and Victor is at his side. His face is pinched and tired, dark circles beneath his eyes, pale skin and messy hair. He looks like he hasn’t slept and Yuuri has no idea how long it’s been.

Phichit visits the most, though Victor never ceases his vigil. He must’ve told the nurses where to stick it in regards to visiting hours, as they let him stay regardless of the time.

Celestino visits, Yuuri’s old mentor in magic, and his family flies over from Japan. He aches when he sees his mother cry. He hears her say something about Victor going home to rest, but Victor only stands out in the corridor to give them a moment of privacy with their son, and accepts the bag with the changes of clothes that Yurio brings him.

Yuuri fades out again.

“Please, Yuuri, please wake up…”

“You can’t leave me… I never got to tell you how I feel…”

“Yuuri…”

Yuuri wakes to the beeping of a heart rate monitor and the warm weight of a hand in his. He blinks his eyes open and grimaces at the bright fluorescent of hospital lighting. He’s in a hospital bed, his head and shoulders slightly raised by the position of the bed and the pile of pillows he’s resting on. Yuuri lets his eyes adjust, and then looks down.

Victor is asleep in the chair next to him. He’s resting his head on his arms, which are folded on the edge of Yuuri’s bed at his hip. His hair’s looking a little better, but is tied in a bun that looks like it was done by a person only half paying attention. His hand is holding Yuuri’s.

Yuuri watches him for a little while, stunned by Victor’s dedication to staying with him. He feels his heart swell traitorously, and tries to push down the feeling. Victor’s his friend.

And then Yuuri suddenly realises how thirsty he is. He’s hungry too, but that’s secondary to how dry his mouth is. He shifts carefully, intending to reach out for the water jug on the side table, but the movement makes pain spike through him and he lets out a sharp gasp.

Victor jerks awake. He looks around wildly, and then his eyes find Yuuri’s.

“Yuuri!”

Victor goes to throw himself at Yuuri, before he realises that would be a terrible idea and catches himself.

“Oh my god,” he’s saying, and there are tears on his cheeks now. “Oh my god, Yuuri, oh my god.”

“Hi,” Yuuri croaks, and at the sound of his voice Victor hurries to get him a glass of water.

Yuuri tries to lift a hand to take it, but the movement makes him groan with pain.

“No, don’t move, here.”

Victor lifts the cup to his lips, and Yuuri manages to take sips from it until it’s empty.

“More?”

Yuuri shakes his head, and Victor practically throws the cup at the side table.

“Oh my god, Yuuri,” he says again, and Yuuri can only pull a face. “What happened? What the hell happened? I can’t believe you’re awake… I thought… I thought…”

At this Victor breaks down again, and Yuuri can only hold his hand as Victor collapses back into his chair and sobs into his free hand.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” Yuuri reassures him, but Victor just continues to sob.

“You… you scared me so badly,” Victor manages to say eventually, finally looking up with a hiccup and wiping his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says, truly meaning it.

He can’t bear to look too closely at himself right now, but knows he’s a mess of scars. It’s not like he cares too much about what he looks like, but it’s still not nice.

“What happened?” Victor asks, gazing at him with watery eyes, his lip trembling.

“A curse,” Yuuri explains. “While I was in a casting circle. If it had just been the curse it would be fine. I’d be cursed for a bit until I managed to rid myself of it or get someone else to do it, but because it hit me in a circle…”

“Holy hell,” Victor breaths, wide eyed.

“Yeah,” Yuuri agrees. “It’s sort of a miracle I’m alive.”

“Yuuri, you know what this means?”

“No?” Yuuri says, nonplussed.

“You’re powerful. Like really, really powerful.”

“Psh, no I’m not, Vitya,” Yuuri huffs. “I’m just a dime a dozen witch who —”

“No dime a dozen witch would be able to hold an exploding casting circle closed, Yuuri.”

Victor’s looking solemn and impressed, and Yuuri wants to explain how he’s got it wrong, Yuuri just got lucky. But he stops himself to actually consider the matter for a moment. Okay, so it’s true, every other person that had got caught at the wrong end of a casting or summoning circle had either ended up dead, or depended upon at least one other witch to help them close it. No one’s ever done it on their own before. Yuuri frowns.

“You see?” Victor says, sounding triumphant. “You’re special. You’re powerful.”

“Well… okay maybe a little,” Yuuri concedes, wishing he could fiddle with the bedding but finding even that movement would be painful.

“You know what else you are?”

“No?” Yuuri says, looking up to see Victor smiling at him.

“The love of my life,” Victor says, and Yuuri breath catches in his throat, his heart stopping and then beating twice as fast.

“I — I’m what?”

“You, Katsuki Yuuri,” Victor says, drawing closer as he grins, “are the undisputed, be all and end all, love of my life. I will spend every day proving it if I have to, I’m not wasting anymore time after I nearly lost you. I’m telling you how I feel now. And if you don’t feel the same way that’s fine too, we can just —”

“No,” Yuuri says quickly, and the urge to sit up has him wincing when he twitches with it. “No, I… I love you too, Vitya. I always have. Even before I knew you I admired you. But then we became friends and I loved the real you, not just the famous danseur.”

“Oh,” Victor says, looking so very happy as his cheeks flush pink. “Well then I guess I should kiss you.”

“I guess you should.”

And Victor does.

Yuuri is released from the hospital a week later. He’s wheeled out in a wheelchair by Victor, his family walking alongside them. They’re going home tomorrow after getting Victor’s assurance that he’ll look after Yuuri, who’s going to be bed bound for quite a while. The doctor’s prescribed bed rest, but it’s not like Yuuri really has a choice. His body tires easily, even after they used charms to help get him back on his feet, and he still aches all over when he moves, though it’s improved.

Phichit has thrown a surprise Welcome Home Yuuri party back at Yuuri’s apartment, having weaseled a spare key out of Victor, who got his own one cut a few days ago as he’ll be staying to look after Yuuri.

Yuuri smiles and thanks Phichit, who’s accompanied by Chris and Celestino, along with the others who flew over from Japan; Minako and the Nishigori family.

Yuuri manages to have some food and chat for a little with everyone, before he finds himself dropping off on Victor’s shoulder.

Victor makes his apologies for him and wheels him through to the bedroom, where he helps Yuuri into bed. He hums as he works, a serene little smile on his face at getting to help Yuuri with such an intimate task. He even helps Yuuri out of his jeans, and Yuuri can’t find the strength to protest.

“There,” Victor says, sounding fond as he tucks the duvet up around Yuuri. “Comfy?”

“Mmm,” Yuuri agrees, and Victor smiles.

He leans forward and kisses Yuuri on the forehead.

“Sleep well, my little star,” he says, and then goes to draw the curtains, blowing a kiss to Yuuri on his way out.

The next few weeks follow a lot in the same manner. Victor helping Yuuri up in the morning, helping him wash and dress and eat. Yuuri can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed about his nudity when Victor helps him in the bath. He grew up in an onsen where nudity was the norm. He just wishes the scars weren’t so clear.

The comparison to lightning that Yuuri had first thought of when he saw them is apt. They’re silvery, spidering out from his hands to crack across his skin, over his shoulders, chest and neck, reaching his ribs and face and then stopping. He’s lucky his face isn’t worse than the two scars that’re there.

Victor says they’re beautiful, though he doesn’t like that they caused Yuuri pain. He says they’re a mark of how strong Yuuri is. He kisses them every night, pours praise upon Yuuri until one day, Yuuri finds he believes him.

The day Yuuri’s strong enough to do magic is a good day. They throw a little celebration party, nothing big as Yuuri still tires very easily, just Victor, Phichit, Chris and Celestino having some drinks and dinner.

Phichit’s been looking after the shop in Yuuri’s absence, his own business fairly flexible as he does YouTube makeup tutorials and sometimes freelance social media advice for companies. He helps Yuuri gradually get back into work, the full work day a bit much for Yuuri at the moment.

Victor stays throughout it all, taking care of Yuuri most diligently. He even suggests at one point that he should drop out of Swan Lake, but Yuuri flat out refuses to accept that.

“You were so excited,” Yuuri reasoned. “I can’t hold you back, I’d never forgive myself. And I love your dancing.”

“But you still get so tired,” Victor had pouted.

“Yes, but I can clean myself now, and cook. I’ll just take a nap when I need to, which I’m sorry to say, as nice as it is to have it, I don’t actually need your help to do, Vitya. Though the cuddles are a plus.”

Victor smiles at this, before he remembers he’s supposed to be pouting and goes back to that. Yuuri has to kiss him until he smiles again.

It takes Yuuri a while to work up to the strength of confronting the witch who cursed him, but when he does, he does so knowing the kind of power he wields.

It’s the witch who hexed Victor of course. She must’ve traced Yuuri’s jinx back to him, and Yuuri finds her in a bar downtown, laughing with some of her friends one evening.

“Anya,” he says, and his voice holds all the thunder of his power.

The bar goes silent, the upbeat music the only sound as Yuuri stands there. He’s alone, has slipped out whilst Victor was having a drink with Chris, not wanting to worry him.

Anya’s a pretty woman. Dark curls and full lips painted red. She looks surprised to see Yuuri.

“Did you not think,” Yuuri says, voice ominously calm as he walks towards her, “to check whether the person you were cursing was in a casting circle?”

Anya looks startled.

“Oh… my… how did you… survive that?” she says, looking suddenly terrified as she takes in the scars on Yuuri’s neck, the ones on his face.

“Turns out I’m rather powerful,” Yuuri says coolly. “Far more powerful than some upstart little bitch who thinks she can come into my territory and play with my toys.”

“I didn’t — I didn’t —”

“Oh you didn’t know?”

There’s a sneer in Yuuri’s voice as he arches a brow at her.

“You thought it was some random witch without a territory just deciding they fancied throwing down? No, you knew perfectly well, you silly little girl.”

Anya looks offended now, and opens her mouth to speak.

“No, no, no, you don’t speak,” Yuuri says, holding a finger up to hush her. “In fact don’t even be here. I hereby banish you from New York. You are never to step foot in this city again. It is mine.”

“How dare you —”

“How dare I?” Yuuri laughs, and power crackles in his voice, in his hands, and something shifts in his eyes, something dark and not belonging to this plane of reality.

Anya, very wisely, shuts up.

“I’m going to give you to the count of three,” Yuuri says, voice low and full of intent. “One...”

Anya teleports herself in a puff of smoke before Yuuri can even get to two. Yuuri arches a brow, then looks at her friends, who are all sitting there, stunned.

“Drink up, ladies,” he says, giving them a little flutter of his fingers. “The night’s still young.”

Then he leaves, unable to help the grin on his face.

Victor’s waiting for him when he gets home. He’s standing with his arms crossed, leant against the kitchen counter. Yuuri takes in his expression and winces.

“I’m home,” he calls pointlessly.

“Which is where you should have been all along,” Victor says pointedly.

“Listen, Vitya —”

“No, you listen, Katsuki Yuuri,” Victor starts, his voice inching upwards in volume as he marches forward. “I have already almost lost you once, and yes, I know you’re very powerful, yes I know you can handle yourself ‘cause you’re a big bad witch, but I still worry, Yuuri. I love you, and I hate that you didn’t even consider how I’d feel when you went out and confronted the witch who cursed you.”

“In my defense,” Yuuri says, trying not to focus on how pretty Victor looks when he’s mad, how his hair starts to swirl around him, picking up on the veela’s emotions, “I didn’t think you’d find out.”

“Oh yes,” Victor says, rolling his eyes. “I was only spending the night with my friend, who’s a psychic. Of course, there’s no possible way I’d know.”

“Vitya, I’m —”

“No shut up,” Victor cuts across him, and grabs Yuuri’s face.

Then he’s kissing him and Yuuri freezes up in surprise and then relaxes into the kiss.

“You stupid. Sexy. Idiot,” Victor says between kisses. “Do you have any idea how hot you are? All powerful and banishing another witch from New York. By the Goddess I am going to ride your dick so hard.”

Yuuri’s surprised to say the least, but he lets Victor hustle him back to the bedroom.

What follows is some mind blowing sex, by the end of which they’re both thoroughly out of breath. It’s the most exertion Yuuri’s had since before the accident, all their sex being slow and careful while he was recovering, and he feels a little dazed. Victor’s the one to clean them both of with a wet cloth. Then the veela snuggles into his side and hums contentedly.

“Hey, Vitya?” Yuuri says after a long while of them both just basking in it.

“Yeah?” Victor says sleepily, nuzzling his nose into Yuuri’s throat.

“You know you said you’d only stay here whilst you were making sure I got better?”

“Yeah?” Victor says, sounding more concerned with continuing to nose at Yuuri’s neck.

“Well how about you stay after that too?”

Victor goes still. Then he jolts back so he can see Yuuri’s face, take in Yuuri’s smile with wide eyes.

“Are you — are you serious?” he asks, breathless.

“Of course,” Yuuri says, grinning now. “Move in with me, Vitya.”

“Oh my god, yes.”

Victor dives back down to smother him with hugs and kisses, both of them laughing. They fall asleep in each other’s arms that night. And every night after that.

And although Yuuri’s a witch and Victor’s a veela, the most magical thing in either of their lives is each other.