.

.

The audience in the stands roars louder in everybody's ears, as the six finalists are invited back onto the ice. The bright white spotlights flip on, illuminating the massive group and now the smaller cluster of judges also on the ice. Also in ice skates, though worn-looking and some unlaced.

Are the judges trembling to… keep their balance? Yuuri's not sure what to think.

Nobody else didn't put on ice skates for this. Heck, it's not even just the coaches on the ice. He's pretty sure JJ's fiance is standing on the other side of him, impatiently tapping her foot.

One of the taller, beady-eyed judges visibly sweats, gulping and dragging a finger under his collar. Another judge, with gray, steely eyes, wobbles their knees and frowns deeply.

"Due to… …" A female judge announces, and then becomes hesitant. She's also sweating heavily on her brow, nervously eyeing the rage-twisted expressions of the audience, the screaming protests and chants of CHEATS! CHEATS! CHEATS!.

The Grand Prix's staff glances over laptops and their mobiles, at the Twitter feed and the media outlet's opinions about the developing situation. They relay their information back to the main judge spokeswomen, grimacing through their words.

"… circumstances being as they are, we are doing things a little differently. Please be patient while this is sorted out."

In her bare, also trembling hands, she holds up the Grand Prix gold medal. The judge proceeds to bend it apart, chunking the object off into portions like it's a damn chocolate bar.

A collective gasp sounds from everybody on the ice, Yuuri's hands slamming against his opening mouth at the same time Viktor does, their rings twinkling in the spotlights. Otabek's face drains from the usual stoic nature into unmistakable confusion. Phichit appears speechless and dumbfounded, motioning helplessly to the person next to him, who happened to be Christophe rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Yurio's face turns an alarming bright red, compared to the others.

"WHAT THE FFFFFF—" he starts to holler out, and then gets smacked harshly on the lips by Lilia's perfume-scented palm.

The audience finally goes into a hush, and the Grand Prix staff frantically waves their approval to the judges, throwing up 'OKAY' hand signals and the occasional 'thumbs-up' high into the air.

"Christophe Giacometti, one for you."

The judge spokeswoman passes off the 6 equally sized pieces to the other judges. One of the gold, chunk-pieces exchanges into his hand through a brief hand-shake.

"Hey, I'm not going to be complaining," Christophe tells the other finalists with a big, satisfied grin, twirling his piece expertly between his forefinger and middle. "You shouldn't either."

"Lord help us," one of the judge mutters.

"Phichit Chulanont? One for you, Phichit Chulanont. You go, Phichit Chulanont!"

He chuckles, gleefully accepting his gold medal-chunk. Phichit nabs his mobile from Celestino, smiling into his camera and taking a selfie with his. "What should I caption it, guys?" Phichit asks aloud.

The frowning judge peers back down at his list. "And, uh… Yuuri Katsuki?"

"It's Katsuki Yuuri," Yuuri corrects, also frowning, but more or less still bewildered. Is this real? Is this real life happening right now or just…?

"Yes, of course. Here's one for you…"

Phichit 'oohs' and nudges Yuuri's shoulder with his, clinking their gold medal-chunks together. "Guess the engagement is still on?" he says teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows while Yuuri blushes under the attention, stammering out something low and unintelligible, adjusting his glasses.

"Of course it is," Viktor replies. He smiles cheerfully and wraps an arm around Yuuri's side.

"Vi—Viktor…"

Phichit bites on his lower lip, facing his mobile's camera on them and recording. Hell yes.

Meanwhile, Otabek receives his gold piece when it's tossed in the air, only narrowing his eyes as a response. Yurio's gold medal sails right over his head, and Otebek tilts slightly, catching it midair.

"Here," he mutters, presenting out his hand, waiting.

Yurio stares in blinking, awed disbelief, before slowly taking it out of Otabek's hand.

"Thanks…"

The last judge finishes up down the line, seeming the most unsteady on his ice skates. "And none for Jean-Jacques Leroy, bye—" He chokes on his sentence, when Isabella fiercely grabs the back of the judge's neatly ironed shirt and glares at his profile. "I—I was only kidding, ma'am… h—here…"

As soon as she has it, Isabella shoves the judge forward and cusses under her breath in French.

He ends up splayed stomach-first onto the icy ground, whimpering and curling into a ball.

While the other finalists groan in sympathy or wince, the approval is clear in Yurio's eyes. And in JJ's as well. "I love you," JJ murmurs to her, gripping their fingers together. He bows his head, kissing Isabella's wrist. She giggles sweetly, kissing his lips instead and mouthing it to him.

"Aaaaand there goes my lunch," Yurio says, rolling his eyes and looking away as the audience cheers.

.

.


Yuri On Ice isn't mine. I literally made this in like less than two hours BUT YOU KNOW WHAT. NOBODY WAS FILLING THIS PROMPT AT THE YURI ON ICE KINK MEME AND IT NEEDED TO BE DONE. It's full of crack and terribly done BUT SOMEBODY HAD TO. I HOPE THIS MADE YOU LAUGH AT LEAST.

Prompt: "GPF Six + "Literally just break the medal into 6 pieces" Gen, Comedy. Judges get tired of this drama and gives everyone the medal. Here, you get a medal. You get a medal too. And you two, get married. Go! Leave! Have your beautiful wedding! (mean girl parody)"