Do You Wanna Build A Snowman? - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader

Who knows? - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader

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The events of last night's dinner party (courtesy of none other than, Phitchit Chulanont) had been quite a blur.

All she could really make up is that there had been a game of beer pong (which would most likely point towards Chris' area of expertise and thus makes him the strongest possible perpetrator), lots of alcohol, hot pot, a couple of apple ciders, lemons and limes and herself, Yuratchka, Yuuri, Phitchit, Mila and Sarah being the only ones left dressed decently.

Chris, ending up stark nude had been a given; Georgi and Michael abandoning their suits, were acceptable; but Viktor, oh god, was thankfully sober enough to keep the most to stripping he could do as flashing his immaculately toned and fair-skinned chest.

Not that (Y/N) looked. The girl had been way too busy literally drinking her victory (for another gold Grand Prix medal) in all night long.

What was there not to drink about? Her stiff coach, the 20 year old blond French dude, Maximillian wasn't there for once;

Viktor won another gold in his division;

their little tiger and good friend, Yura and Yuuri had won silver and bronze respectively;

Yakov was joining the other coaches and thus hadn't spent the whole night watching over Yura and Viktor like some mother vulture and yelling at the top of his lungs for the latter's impudence at any given time (which would perhaps be every five minutes or so);

Chris finally found a stable partner to flirt with for life;

and a new addition to their little skating family, Otabek Altin, aka, Yura's new friend.

Again, what else is there not to drink about?

She was thinking about that all night long up until the wee hours of the morning (from when she woke up to the need of having to hurl whatever's left in her stomach) as if to justify the reason why she's currently suffering from a whirring hangover that's threatening to split her skull in half, and why she had momentarily made the restroom her fortress every twenty minutes.

"Is it that bad?" Viktor asked, a worried look on his face as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. He was wearing a fitted blue and white striped jumper with sleeves that went just below his elbows, brown pajamas and a pair of white socks.

He couldn't be padding across the hotel in just white socks.

(Y/N) wonders how on earth he managed to snag the keycard to her hotel room after pondering as to what on earth is a pair of Viktor's formal shoes doing on the floor at the foot of her bed, and why on earth is there a suit and tie, a crumpled shirt and a pair of slacks seemingly toed off under one of the two armchairs in her room.

The girl inwardly thinks she seemed to have a lot of questions to ask the universe this particular morning.

Curling further up into a ball on the plush armchair she chose to take residence to, she momentarily tossed the unwelcomed ideas -that threatened to take her already throbbing head on another good-for-nothing roller coaster ride- aside and grimaced,

"What do you think?" She didn't mean to sound so rude but being courteous just seemed to be so hard when your brain and insides are literally beginning to eat themselves up.

The older skater flashes her an apologetic smile and goes over to sit on the side of the bed, just infront of her. Retrieving something from the medium sized white box in his hands, he seemed to find what he was looking for,

"Here, it helps with the headache." He handed her a pill and went to stand up, "I'll go get you a glass of water."

It's really hard to focus on anything else when Viktor's smiling that sweetly, not to mention with that messy bed hair of his, and the girl found her gaze closely following the steps the man had taken towards the restroom.

"I also called for room service a little over a while ago. Does pancakes and hot cocoa sound good to you?" He called out from where he seemed to be pouring water over her glass by the sink.

His deep voice echoing through the confines of the frosted glass covered room and she couldn't shake off the notion that his voice had sounded pretty much like this not too long ago.

But the words he was saying and the manner he said them in wasn't this...domestic.

A buzz by the door had cut her trail of thoughts off once again.

"(Y/N), mwov? Camf fyu ansfwer fa fur? I'm fwushing my feef!" Came Viktor's incomprehensible utterance from inside the bathroom.

The girl chuckled at the supposedly older man's foolish attempt at speaking whilst brushing his teeth and pulled herself up to her feet, wrapping the thick sheets tighter around her shivering form as she trudged towards the door, "Yea, sure, just call me once you've finished brushing your feet, okay?" She hollered sarcastically as she passed by the bathroom and went to answer the door.

A brunet, who seemed to be one or two years older than her was fumbling around the plates he carried on his trolley when she opened the door, "Good morning, sir, you called for room se-" he immediately froze upon turning. His mouth agape and his hands trembling as he held out the tray of food that Viktor seemed to have ordered.

"Thanks." The (H/C) girl took the tray from his hands and placed it on the table just beside the door inside her room before it even had the chance to clatter to the ground because of the guy's seemingly anxious state.

"Are you alright?" She asked the teen when he showed no signs of moving, emerald eyes still fixed on her face, "Is there something on my face?" The girl instinctively rose a hand to touch her face.

The bell boy furiously shook his head before sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, "I just didn't think Mister Nikiforov would be a girl is all." He nervously laughed.

"Oh, is that so." (Y/N) found herself chuckling with the boy.

Emerald eyes blinked after a while and a look of realization crossed his face, "Oh my god! You're not Mister Nikiforov!" He looked so embarrassed that he could inwardly be wishing the carpeted floors would just swallow him up.

Though he bounced back quick enough to switch to his fanboy mode, "You're Miss (Y/N) (L/N), the Belladonna of the Ice! I am a HUGE fan of your performances!" He was downright gushing now and (Y/N) had to give it to him, he looked adorable while doing so.

"Thank you," she smiled and tilted her head a bit to the side in the universal language of asking one's name to finish a sentence.

The boy flushed and awkwardly stuck his hand out, "Elijah. Elijah Waters!"

"-Elijah." The (H/C) skater reached out to shake the boy's hand before giggling, "I would've entertained a commemorative photo on ordinary days but I'm afraid I don't look that presentable at the moment."

"O-oh n-no, ma'am, you don't look any less appealing right now compared to when you're on the ice at all! Not one bit!" He spluttered before seeming to catch himself and holding his hands over his mouth with his fair face looking as if it was about to explode in shame.

This only caused the girl to chuckle as she went over to muss the taller boy's unruly chocolate brown locks, "You're cute!"

And that was when Viktor finally decided to make his appearance, "Is anything wrong?" The older skater peeked out from beside the girl on the door.

Elijah paled, "M-Mister Nikiforov?!"

Viktor smiled, liking the look of surprise on the boy's flushed face, "Hey there, young man." He waved one hand as his other snaked around what could've been a slender waist had the other skater not been wrapped in this much blankets, "Is there something wrong? Did my little solnyshko here bite you?" He only meant to tease the boy but the blush that rose on the girl's cheek proved that she's somehow starting to remember the little drunken fun she had with him last night.

"U-uh, n-no, s-sir! I j-just went to deliver your breakfast! I-I'll be on my w-way now!" After a bow that would surely mess with his back later, Elijah had speeded towards the elevators with his trolley in tow.

"Aren't those things supposed to be pushed?" Viktor looked out one last time before he guided the two of them back inside the girl's room.

(Y/N) found herself way too stumped to even reply to that.

-----To be continued