do you need some help with your glue gun?
for @kixboxer for reasons. <3
do you remember that craft store au we chatted about ages ago? well.
Yuuri almost has a heart attack the moment that Victor Nikiforov, host of What The Craft on Detroit Public Access TV, walks into Michael’s. As he dies in a god awful green vest, all he can think is that hot gluing the defibrillator last week was a mistake. And that he’s suing those tv cameras from beyond the grave because they were nowhere close to capturing how attractive Victor actually is.
Yuuri wants to help him with his glue gun. Instead he hides.
Victor leaves twenty minutes later after circling every aisle at least three times.
victor: CHRIS HE WAS THERE
chris: green sweater vest?
victor: his name is YUURI
victor: HOW DOES HE MAKE POLYESTER LOOK SO GOOD? IT’S NOT A BREATHABLE FABRIC AND NOW I FEEL LIKE I CAN’T BREATHE.
victor: HE WAS THERE AND THEN HE DISAPPEARED BUT THERE WASN’T EVEN A GLASS SLIPPER
chris: victor. PLEASE.
“Excuse me?” Victor says, tapping Yuuri on the shoulder. Somewhere between “I should have ironed my underwear” and “digging my own grave won’t be so bad” Victor’s arrived at end of the aisle. Where Yuuri’s arranging styrofoam balls into a suspiciously human shaped arrangement. He didn’t even have fair warning to hide this time.
“Can you help me?” Yuuri asks. No. Wrong order. Fuck.
Victor looks Yuuri up and down. And then back up again. “Can I?” The tips of his ears are flushed. Yuuri’s not sure why. It’s not that cold yet.
(When Celestino starts putting Baileys in his coffee, that’s when it’s really winter.)
“I um. I mean. Things? Supplies?”
Yuuri manages to help Victor find what he needs. He’s not sure how Victor’s so unfamiliar with the store layout—he’s seen Victor’s show and he goes through a lot of felt. Just when Yuuri thinks he’s done, Victor has another question, all the way until Yuuri rings up his total.
(Yuuri’s not even supposed to work at the register.)
“What are your hours?” Victor asks, playing with the on and off button on his phone.
“Oh well, our hours are on the door…”
“No. What days are you here?”