"God-DAMMIT MILA WHERE IS MY PHONE?!" A shrill squeal echoed through the rink, drawing the attention of each person towards the door. Out ran Mila, giggling maniacally as she waved a phone over her head. The smirk on her face was one that could never be trusted, and there was a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. Behind her bolted a certain blond-haired teen, face beet red to a point where it crossed the line of comical. He paused in the entranceway leading into the open room, his glare jerking side to side. It landed on the girl, and he took off once again, charging towards her like a bull. And the chase was on. Though the teen was swift on his long twink legs, Mila had experience un the art of the chase, and easily threw him off track with simple swerves and dives. Which every fall, the blond only got angrier.

"Careful there Mila, steam might come out of his ears if you keep this up." A man called from on the ice, leaning down on the border to enjoy the show. He swished his silv—sorry, platinum bangs from their usual place covering his left eye to better take in the scene before him. The  teenager didn't slow as he ran past, though this speed wasn't enough to mask him flipping off the older man. The spectator just laughed. "That's rude Yuri!"

"SHUT UP VIKTOR YOU OLD MAN." Yuri snapped back before launching himself at the girl o nice more, only to face plant onto the ground. "Now look what you made me do!" He snapped, muffled by the grimy carpet.

"Yakov is going to kill you guys."  Viktor turned to see a man walk in bag slung over his shoulder and purple bags under his eyes. Despite his sluggish look, sweat already ran down his face and was taking deep breaths.

"Says the guy walking in 10 minutes late."

"Hey he's not here yet, is he?" He shot back, slumping down on a bench and letting his bag fall to the ground. He pulled out a black skate and began to pull it on but paused in his efforts. "And you're not going to tell him." It wasn't a question, and became clear by the man pointing the sharpened edge of his skate's blade at Viktor, who let out a curt chuckle. Georgi tended to be a little over dramatic bitch sometimes. Playing along, he lifted his arms up into the air.

"Woah there I'm not a snitch." Georgi let out a groan that sounded oddly like a growl and returned to lacing up his skates. Not a moment more passed by before Viktor felt a tap on his shoulder, followed by an object being shoved into his open hand. He looked down in surprise to see a phone.

"Take it!!" Mila panted behind him, giving the man a shove to get him going. Not a second later she was tackled to the ground. Completely startled by the situation he had just been out into, Viktor spun to see Yuri haul himself up using the border by support.

"Viktor give me that!!" He snapped, swiping his arm out. Victor dodged the attack and backwards away from the boy, a smirk appearing on his face.

"What's the magic word?" He teased, holding the phone out with two fingers. He fought to stifle a laugh as the teenager' s face only tensed up more.

"Fuck you!"

"Most definitely not." Viktor shook his head slowly, having gotten used to this kind of behavior from the boy. A loud *ding* came from the phone, the screen lighting up. "Oh look at that! You've got a message!"  He pretended to look at the screen, while secretly pressing the power button to turn it off. Teasing he had no problem with; Yurio was always doing it back to him so it was considered a never-ending battle between the skaters. But invading a teenager' s privacy? Well he was no asshole.

Though the sender's name has caught his eye before the screen went black. And though he tried to forget he had even seen it in the first place, it stemmed his attention.

"Who's 'Teddy Bear?"

A low growl reminded him that he was on a mission, and he snapped out of his thoughts. In a flamboyant motion, he rose the screen to his face, careful not to activate it. "Oh, lookie here! How interesting!" It took all his strength not to giggle.

"VIKTOR I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO KILL YOU. GIVE IT BACK!!"

"Yuri! How many times have I told you to stop swearing on me?" He whined out loud, pretended to look offended. The phone dinged once more, and Viktor spun quickly once more, closing his eyes so the message wouldn't be visible. Still this did not deter his efforts and he let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh my!!" Behind him, he heard a sigh.

"Fine then. Please." Yuri hissed.

"Please what?"

"...please give me my phone back old man."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last part." Viktor skated over to where Yuri was leaning so far over the border it was a miracle he had yet to fall on the ice and handed him the phone. Immediately the blond checked to see who the messages were from. Upon reading the sender's name, his face flushed crimson once more. Taking this as a confirmation that he had read the name right, the older man leaned down and whispered,

"Who's Teddy Bear~" He was cut off as a hand covered his mouth, quite violently if I may add. Yurio hissed at him to be quiet, his face so red at this point it could have been mistaken for a ripe tomato.

"I will kill you in your sleep." He hissed in a menacing tone. Arching an eyebrow, Viktor stood up, ruffling the blond's hair. This only prompted a string of insults in Russian.

"Try me." He muttered before skating off, leaving the boy fuming. Though at times it didn't seem like it, Yuri was like a little brother to Viktor. A grumpy angsty tiger-obsessed little brother. But a little brother none the less. And he cared for the boy.

Of course he couldn't tell him that without risking an attack with 'knife shoes' as he liked to refer to skates. A cut would most definitely tarnish his image, especially one on his award-winning face, which he knew the teenager would likely target just to piss him off.

"Man..." Mila pouted, having fully recovered from her tackle and made her way to the rink opening. "You could have kept it from him just a little longer..."

"He probably would've blown a fuse ." Geoegi commented, leaning back against the border and watching the bow type swag at his phone at a made pace. "Then Yakov would've killed all of us."

"Including Viktor?"

"Especially Viktor."

"Hello hello I heard my name." Both of the skaters' eyes narrowed as the platinum-haired man interjected. They were used to this: the man practically had super-human hearing, a skater sense that let him know whoever he was being spoken of or even mentioned within a 5 mile radius. Some times it was useful, like when they were trying to reach the cookie jar hidden atop the lockers and Viktor was the only person tall enough to reach. Other times, such as this... well it just became annoying.

"Screw off." Georgi muttered under his breath. The man went from high and mighty of a blubbering child in less than a milliseconds. Some may say it was faster than Chris's orga—

"Nyaaaa nobody loved me here anymore." Viktor whined, slumping down and looking like he was on the verge of a temper tantrum. At this point nobody would be surprised if he did end up throwing one.

"Yakov does." Mila pointed out, regretting her words as the man-child shot her a look.

"Yeah you're like his little puppy." Yuri shot from across the room. "Disobedient."

"Whiny."

"Too much energy."

"Not potty trained!"

"Who exactly are we talking about again?"

"No clue."

"I have a feeling it's not about me anymore." The older man whined, sinking to his knees. In no time, the shrill cold if the ice permeated through his pant legs and he scrambled to his feet.

"I dunno, do you wear diapers?"

"I'm 27 fucking years old Mila." He snapped. "What do you think the answer to that is?"

"It's called adult diapers."

"This conversation has slowly descended into chaos and I love it." Georgi muttered, watching the back and forth banter with an amused smirk. This earned him a glare from both skaters. "What? Just stating facts." He shrugged. "What's next, a meme war?"

"Jesus Christ Georgi, you're older than me yet you act like a goddamn 7 year old."

"I told you to stop referring to me as that."

"You're not Jesus Viktor. Get that delusion out of your 3 year old head."

"How do you I'm not?"

"Well for one Jesus wasn't Russian." Viktor shut his mouth, thinking.

"...minor point."

"Major point."

"GUYS." All three snapped their heads around to see Yuri, who they haven't noticed had left, sprinting through the door, panting heavily. "Yakov's coming!"

The two magic words. A trigger was pulled inside each and every single skater in that room. In a split second, the three skaters already in the ice took off, beginning to skate laps at top speed to try and build up sweat. Yuri, in the other hand, scrambled with the knife shoes in his hand, sloppily lacing one up before stumbling with the other. He didn't even bother to put on skating guards, and the second his hands dropes the lace of the second skate, he was practically tripping on the ice in an attempt to gather momentum. Though the overwhelming sound in the room was the scraping of blades against ice, they did nothing to hide the footsteps growing louder. No one dared to look at the door as it swung open, for fear the coach's eyes would turn them to stone. For a good moment, the world was silent expect for the sounds of skaters seeking to escape a good yelling at. Then...

"You are all horrible liars." The world came crashing down. All at once the athletes skidded to the stop, the sound of skates replaced by the sounds of deep panting.

"Shit."

Viktor was the first one to regain his composure and face the balding man. (No not himself). The man was surprisingly calm, standing up firm with crossed arms, looking grumpy as ever. The skater shot him a sheepish smile, that of which was instantly rejected with a glare. It was then that he noticed the smaller man huddled behind the coach. His head tilted to the side like a puppy as he noticed Viktor's gaze, before shooting down to the floor quickly. Smiling, Viktor made his way over to the edge of the rink where they were standing. The closer he got, the smaller the man seemed the shrink down.

"Yakov, and who is this?" He gestured to the mystery person, flashing him a smile. It went unnoticed. In fact the mention only seemed to make him... uncomfortable. The man's head was buried into Yakov's coat, his face out of sight almost completely. Viktor's smile faded. Had he done something wrong? Yakov turned his head to peer at the man, before sighing and turning back to the taller man.

"Gather 'round!" He called over to the other skaters, who were staring from a distance. They slowly made their way over to crowd around the two men outside of the rink. All pairs of eyes landed on the mystery man.

"OI, whozzat?" Yurio jabbed a finger forward, scowling as Mila slapped it away. Shaking his head, Yakov stepped to the side, so the man was out into the open and without the safety of a body in front of him. It was then that the skaters got a better look at him.

The man looked to be in his early twenties. His hair was short and black, falling just barely over his charcoal eyes. He wore light blue glasses and a long blue coat. His cheeks were surprisingly rosy, especially for having just stepped into the cold room. His gaze from behind his frames refused to leave his feet. Shuffling under the intense gazes, he fiddled with his gloved fingers.

"I probably should have let you know about this earlier but..." Yakov drew in a sharp breath, before continuing.

"This is your new rinkmate."