If you're not busy, bysoti(d) drabble prompt? Are Shuji's feelings toward Yuuri simply platonic and the jokes about dating him all in good fun, or is there something deeper there?
Shuji dropped his bag onto the seat in front of him and sat down in his own seat in the stands. The ice in the arena had six skaters going around for warm-ups before they got a chance to go through their routine.
There was only one skater that Shuji cared about though.
Yuuri laughed and spun, pulling his tracksuit jacket forcibly out of the grip of the Russian skater, Viktor. From the side of the rink, Shuji heard Yuuri’s coach yell something at them in Russian, and Viktor just turned and pulled an anime pose: pulling down his lower eyelid with one finger and sticking his tongue out. It was a pretty good look for him, in Shuji’s opinion.
Yuuri, on the other hand, just squeaked and returned to his warm-up. His skates cutting through the ice in some complex series of moves that Shuji knew that he’d never understand and really had no desire to. Skating was fine to watch, pleasing on an aesthetic level, but not interesting. Not to him. Yuuri, though, was. He was a mess of contradictions. Humble and riddled with self-doubt, Yuuri was practically a shrinking violet most of the time, but then, when he got comfortable, when he was dancing or skating or even just joking around with friends, he was none of those things. Push just the right button and he became confident and teasing, a little boastful.
Shuji wasn’t the only one who thought so. Obviously. Shouta had kept Yuuri to himself for over a year, but now…
Shuji had a chance. A small one. He wanted to see if this pull that Yuuri had on him was because he couldn’t have him or because he wanted him. It could go either way. It could work and Shuji would be able to take advantage of having an incredibly hot, sexy secret boyfriend for a couple of months before they each went their separate ways. Or he could crash and burn in the most spectacular way imaginable.
Regardless, Shuji knew one thing: It would be EXCITEing.
Filling the prompt “a quickie cliche wedding with van? maybe they’re on tour in America and they’re in vegas and get a little drunk and decide to get hitched?”
Note: Van McCann is a lovesick puppy and wouldn’t even need alcohol to agree to marry someone in Vegas.
“Can I lick your tongue?”
You rolled your head to look at Van. "What?”
“Yeah, no, I heard you, but… what?” you repeated.
You were sitting at the makeshift kitchen table on the tour bus somewhere in Nevada. It was too hot to do much else than laze around.
“I’m so bored,” Van whispered, grinning at you.
“And people think I’m the weird one,” Bondy mumbled, misting himself with a spray bottle of water that had gone warm hours ago.
Van continued to look at you, and you looked back. He was probably serious, so you stuck your tongue out. He leant across and licked it once. It felt weird but warm; intimate and stupid and kind of gross. You laughed and stuck your tongue out to let him do it again.
“Is it wrong if I like this?” you asked after the fourth lick. Bondy stood.
“No, Y/N, but it’s wrong if I stay,” and he was climbing the stairs to go try to sleep through the heat. Van laid his head on his arms on the table and smiled softly.
“I love you,”
“I love you too, but I’m gonna need you to keep doing this because it really does feel kind of good.”
He laughed that crackling pop rock happy laugh, and pulled you in for more disgusting and love-fuelled kisses.