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You're Not My Real Dad, You're Just Some Dude My Brother Fucks

Summary:

Yuri Plisetsky is a girl. She can't tell anyone because of Russia's trash social policies. To make it worse, the only person she'd told moved to Japan to be with some dude he's barely met.

Notes:

If you're not about trans headcanons and weird train of thought bullshit, you won't like this. And hey, that's okay. I mostly just wrote this for myself anyways.
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Credit for the title goes to guccimetti.tumblr.com, who you should follow for more good content™.

Work Text:

It pissed her off to see them kiss. On some weird, subdermal part of her existence, she knew it wasn't them, either. It was seeing someone who had cared for her for so long caring for someone else, someone so obviously inferior. But that's love, isn't it? Less time to spend on family and more to spend kissing a man who grinded on you while shit faced. Absolutely fucking perfect. 

 

She didn't used to trust him this much. Most things were hidden from him, just like they were from the rest of the world. He didn't know her gender when they met. It was "Yuri Plisetsky, Russia's darling new son", and a title he seemed much too willing to give up. He didn't know how uncomfortable she felt in her own skin, or the way that she knew her government would never let her compete if she came out. To be fair, she didn't know he was gay back then, facing some of the same challenges of acceptance and efficiently knocking all of them down. She learned about him the same day he learned about her. He was unlacing his skates, humming gently as he checked messages from his friends. She only happened to glance over his shoulder out of boredom, and if it had been anyone else, his career would have been ended. When she saw the text from Chris asking if Viktor wanted to find some guys to fuck, there was only a gentle clicking of gears. Of course Nikiforov wasn't just pandering to the audience by appropriating femininity into his routines. Of course it wasn't a fluke that the most eligible man in Russia didn't have a girlfriend. Viktor wasn't a cishet. If she came out to him...well, she'd have leverage. 

 

"Viktor." 

Her words startled the man up from his phone, head tilted towards the younger skater. 

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I'm not a boy. Never have been. I skate here because that's where they put me, and now I just want to win. If you tell anyone this, I will kill you. But I'm a girl. Refer to me as such."  

He just stared for a moment before breaking in to a warm smile. 

 

"Have you thought about transitioning?"

She huffed at the man gently. 

 

"Of course I have. They'd never let me skate again. Definitely not for Russia. And nowhere else would allow me to be put in the right competitions because of 'unfair advantage'. Not even mentioning the drug tests and however the fuck they classify hormones. No. I'm not giving this up." She looks down, bitter. "Skating is all I have. And I'm not getting it taken away because of my gender." 

Viktor is dumbfounded, unable to reply. She settles for raising an eyebrow. "Not what you were expecting?" 

 

Viktor shakes his head before gently pulling her into a hug. Yuri makes a soft sound of protest before relaxing into his arms. 

 

"I will do everything I can to protect you, Yuratchka." 

 

From then on, he cared for her. He provided her with what resources he could under the current regime, protected her from threats. All until the man who shared her name took her dad away. And now the two were married. Good luck to the fucking idiot, but she'd never consider Katsuki Yuuri family. Not after he took away the only protection she ever had in Russia. 

 

--

She hadn't expected the relationship to go anywhere. Victor would realize the man was a loser and dump him after their fling, right? No, she had to sit through them "falling in love", their incessant touching, and now this- engagement. No one should get engaged after just 8 fucking months of knowing each other. Their entire relationship was ridiculous to the utmost degree. 

 

Still, it wasn't until he asked the question that she knew he was serious. 

"Yuratchka, are you comfortable with disclosing what pronouns you use with Yuuri?"

 

The question had taken her aback, not expecting the level of sincerity Viktor was displaying. He wouldn't ask unless he trusted the man enough to tell him something this important. It also showed a careful amount of tact, asking her first before consulting with his precious pork cutlet.

 

"Ideally he would not address me at all." She could see the hurt in his face when she snapped back at him. 

 

"Alright. I will keep my mouth shut." Yuri could see the discomfort in his stature, the exact way that it hurt him to keep such a secret from his lover. Still, she knew it was not only about his discomfort, but his desire to protect her. His eyes dulled when he had to misgender her in public, uncomfortable in a way that was only perceptible if you knew what to look for. 

 

--

 

He stayed true to his promise. It was her own fault that the little piggy learned the next day. She'd been practicing before competition, moving on the ice in a way that allowed her to feel comfortable in her own skin, trying to shift into the quadruple flip that would win her gold. After 5 consecutive failures, she stormed off the ice, pushing past the other competitors to the locker rooms. Katsuki followed, likely with an idea of comforting his rinkmate. It was her own bad luck that he heard her ranting through gritted teeth. 

 

"Other girls can do this. Other girls can land this fucking jump. You should be able to land it too, even with this dumb fucking body." She fisted her hands in her towel, on the verge of crying until she heard the cough. She whipped around, only to look Yuuri Katsuki dead in the eye. Her mind went blank, terrified. She waited for him to scream at her, to tell her she was a freak. He didn't. 

 

"Yuri. Are you a girl?" He asked gently, sitting down next to her. She scooted away from him reflexively, uncomfortable. 

 

"What the fuck did you hear, Katsuki?" 

 

"It's okay if you are. I...I don't always exactly feel male either." Yuuri looked towards the lockers, fidgeting. His nervousness calmed hers slightly, putting them on equal ground. 

 

"Yeah," she admitted, not looking Yuuri in the eye. "I'm a girl." 

 

The older skater nodded slightly, turning to look at her. "Do you want me to use she/her pronouns for you?" 

 

She eyed him warily, giving a small affirmative nod. "Only in private. I can't be out yet."

 

"Alright." The other Yuuri smiled at her gently, posture relaxing. "Thank you for telling me." 

 

She shrugged, re-lacing her skates. "I still won't go easy on you." 

 

"I wouldn't expect you to." Yuuri laughed, looking back down at the floor. "Hey..."

 

"What?" 

 

"If Viktor and I do get married, you'll still attend, right? You mean a lot to him, and I care about you too."

 

She glanced back at him, eyes narrowed. "Maybe. For his sake." 

 

Yuuri visibly relaxed, giving her another small smile. "Thank you." 

 

She nodded acknowledgement before heading back to the ice, more levelheaded than before. This time, she landed the quad.