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Summary
Tie fluttering in one hand, Yuuri staggers towards the dance floor—
And Victor finds himself swallowing the last of his pizza along with his pride.
All right, he admits, his mouth strangely dry, so Victor's not-ogling of one Yuuri Katsuki may have been—may have been—a bold-faced lie.
Yet another version of the fateful Grand Prix Final banquet in Sochi, told from Victor's POV. (Because every obsessed dedicated Victuuri fanfic writer has to write one! ... Or something.) Features drunk dancing, drunk flirting, and the birth of Victor's burning desire to burn a certain tie (among other things).
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