Chapter Text
The first time Yuuri met Viktor, it was definitely an accident.
He’d rang the front desk to have them pull his Packard around front. “I don’t care if Phichit isn’t in yet, I’m late!” he’d said, probably a little too harshly.
He was supposed to be meeting Celestino at nine to discuss the next shipment of muslin for dress mock-ups. He glanced at the wall clock above his dining table. It was ten minutes fast, so…it was 8:24, and if it took forty-five minutes to get to their usual café next to the Merchandise Mart, he might just make it. He raced down the steps to the reception area, nodding at the clerk, then hatted himself as he stepped out into the chaos of the streets. His Packard was waiting for him, all black and shiny against the graying tar of the road, chauffeur standing with the back door open. He hoped to Lord in heaven that whomever they’d sent to drive could floor it the way Phichit could. The door snapped shut behind him.
“Merchandise Mart Plaza, please.” The driver said nothing but pulled away from the curb with no problem. Yuuri, awkward and anxious as he was did not attempt to make small talk, nor did he study the chauffeur.
Well. Maybe he studied the chauffeur a little bit. Young, silvery hair, blue eyes. Definitely white. Yuuri didn’t know how to feel about that. The chauffeur probably didn’t know how to feel about it either. He forced his gaze away and out the window. He didn’t notice how fast the buildings were passing by until the car stopped, right in front of the plaza. Yuuri flicked his wrist to check the time. 8:56. He shook his head in disbelief but stepped out of the car. Rapping on the chauffeur's window, he pulled out his tip.
"I’ll need you back here in four hours.” He held the money out to the chauffeur, but for whatever reason, Mr. Chauffeur had different plans. He held up a gloved hand in a stop gesture.
“No charge.” He had an accent, but not one Yuuri could place. So, he was a foreign white person. That explained it.
So, taken by the man’s good looks and unexpected words, Yuuri just stood there dumbly, holding his money as the chauffeur pulled back into traffic and drove away. He stood there for a few more moments, pondering the whole strange morning before he remembered. “Celestino!” he shouted to himself. He stuffed the money back into his wallet and his wallet back into his trouser pocket, then fought his way to the café.