Chapter Text
Yuuri had been surprised at how quickly he fell into a comfortable routine in his new home. Every morning he would wake to the sound of Victor knocking on his door and inviting him over for breakfast. They jogged with Makkachin before heading over to the rink and parting for the rest of the morning: Yuuri to the gym and Victor to the ice. Yuuri had even started to make friends within the group of skaters. Mila and her friend Julia would come and sit with him in the cafeteria. Once when Still Unfriendly Yuri had been teasing him an older skater had come over and whacked him on the head. Mila giggled and told Yuuri that had been Georgi. Yuuri had offered him a grateful smile and been confused by the man’s stoic expression, but Mila explained he wasn’t usually so down “He’s just going through something at the moment.” she had said. The only other skater Yuuri really interacted with was Ivor, a 17 year old skater who was focused on a comeback after puberty messed with his previous year.
Evenings were even more relaxed than the mornings. After leaving the rink Victor and Yuuri would relax in Victor’s apartment and talk about their day and take Makkachin for another run around the block. There was a park at the top of a nearby hill that was the perfect spot to watch the sun disappear behind the city skyline. On the way home they’d stop at a little hole-in-the-wall takeaway that had the most amazing Kasha. The familiar flavour of buckwheat was not something Yuuri had expected to find in Russia. He’d started to worry about food an hour into his second flight when he’d been given a tray for lunch and the only thing familiar on it was the bread roll. But Kasha was delicious and he had been having it daily with different things on the side. He was glad the diet plan Victor had made for him was edible. He was pretty sure he’d eat anything Victor put in front of him but he appreciated actually liking the food.
By the time he woke on the morning of day Five, Yuuri felt like he’d been here all his life. He knew every corner of the gym and every face he passed he recognised. The weight had been melting off with all his hard work and the thought of finally getting permission to skate was causing him to hum cheerfully as he showered and got dressed. It was still early but he decided to head over to Victor’s anyway. It might be too early to take Makkachin for a jog but he could still get some quality time with the poodle. Spending time with Makkachin had been slowly healing the hole left in his heart by the absence of Vicchan, and Yuuri was relishing every minute of it.
He pressed his ear to Victor’s door. He couldn’t hear any obvious signs of Victor being up so he knocked gently a few times. A soft thump and the sound of nails clicking on the floor let him know Makkachin was awake at least. Hearing her begin to whine, he pressed his hands against the door to lean close and whisper calming platitudes to her, but to his surprise the door quietly opened under his weight. After hesitating for a moment, he let himself into Victor’s apartment. He gave Makkachin a pat on the head as he padded softly over to the sofa, sinking into the plush cushions and patting his leg to call Makkachin over. She galloped after him enthusiastically, jumping onto the sofa and climbing into his lap.
Yuuri relaxed, leaning over Makkachin and burying his face in her fluffy fur as she settled back to sleep on his lap. He didn’t hear the bedroom door open, nor see a messy-haired Victor watching him from the shadows. Not wanting to disturb them, Victor silently observed for another minute before softly shutting his door. The sound of the shower startled Yuuri and he instinctively looked over at the closed bedroom door.
“Sounds like your Papa is awake.” He told Makkachin in Japanese, giving her an affectionate pat on the head. “Nearly time for a walk.” Makkachin jumped down and started bouncing around in excitement. Yuuri was amazed how quickly Makkachin seemed to have learnt to recognise the word “sampo” for “walk”. She’d first reacted to it yesterday, much to Yuuri’s amusement.
Victor soon appeared with his hair still damp and only his lower half dressed.
“You’re up early today Yuuri.” His velvet voice sent a shivery feeling down Yuuri’s spine, and he gulped before turning to face Victor.
“Yes, I hope you don’t mind…” Yuuri trailed off, suddenly horrified that he had just barged in without being invited, but Victor was smiling as he towel-dried his hair.
“Of course I don’t mind, what’s mine is yours,” Victor’s face disappeared behind the towel for a moment and Yuuri watched as tiny droplets of water beaded and trailed over Victor’s very naked upper body. He felt his face flush and quickly dropped his gaze.
“I’ll just grab a shirt and we can go if you like.” Victor disappeared back into the bedroom and Yuuri dashed to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and gulping some water as he willed his blood to behave and stop rushing all over the place. Makkachin was unperturbed by their interactions; she had padded over to the door and was waiting patiently for someone to attach her lead so they could go.
Yuuri felt residual awkwardness the entire elevator ride to the ground floor, but as they started their jog in the crisp morning air his mood quickly lifted. Makkachin ran ahead of them like usual, bounding up to trees and pulling at her lead before stopping abruptly and causing them to slow down and stop, urging her to keep up with them. They usually exchanged a few words, plans for the day and so forth, and after a few minutes Victor commented on Yuuri’s weight loss.
“I think Yakov will approve you joining us in the rink today.” Yuuri beamed with pleasure.
“I hope he does. I can’t wait to skate again.” Yuuri felt his heart grow lighter as Victor continued to observe that Yuuri had worked so hard and done so well since his arrival.
“The diet rules can continue but I’m confident Yakov will want you on the ice from now on. It’s time to show him what you can do.”
They deposited a happily worn-out Makkachin back in Victor’s apartment and grabbed their sports bags. Yuuri lovingly packed his skates into his bag before filling his water bottle and sliding it into a side pocket. Finally, he was going to skate again. He was going to skate on the same ice as Victor.
At the rink, he stood nervously before Yakov. They were the first ones to arrive, and every sound they made echoed in the large and empty arena.
Yakov had given him a once over, lifting first one arm and squeezing his bicep, then the other. Walking around him he asked him to flex and point his right foot, then his left. Yuuri complied with every order as he was inspected, feeling a strange sense of disembodiment steal over him. It was almost like he was watching the exchange happen to another person. Victor stood off to the side, pretending to stretch but really watching Yuuri closely.
It seemed like the inspection took hours but after just a minute Yakov pronounced him ready and told him to warm up and be on the ice in 10 minutes.
“I’ve seen your footwork. Impressive. Today I want to see you jump.”
Yuuri gaped at him for a moment, but Yakov had turned away at the entrance of a few older skaters. Yuuri floated over to where Victor stood, still sunk into a lunge but clearly not putting any effort into the stretch.
“I get to skate.” He mumbled, then as Victor’s grin started to infect him, he began to smile and said again, “I get to skate!”
“Congratulations, Yuuri!” Victor stood and clapped him on the shoulder.
“I knew you could pull it off.”
Yuuri began his warm up, and was so excited he forgot to blush when Victor helped him stretch.
They sat down on opposite ends of the same bench to pull their skates on, and Yuuri was so happy he almost pulled his left skate onto his right foot. Fortunately Victor was lacing his own boots and didn’t appear to notice.
Yuuri quickly tightened the laces with shaking hands, and soon he was flying on the ice. The thrill of having the wind in his hair again was bliss. There was no sound except for his blades against the ice. He had missed this.
The sound of a second pair of blades approached, and Yuuri was momentarily speechless as Victor fell into step with him effortlessly. Instantly he was reminded of the last time they had skated together.
Last year. The disastrous Grand Prix. They had been in the same group and had warmed up on the ice together, although Yuuri knew that Victor hadn’t even looked at him then. Why would he? He was a nobody, nothing compared to Victor. He remembered how all during his warmup he had watched Victor skate. Victor had been beautiful, his practice jumps received by the crowds like they were the real deal. He had smiled and waved at everyone. Celestino had been so frustrated with Yuuri: desperately trying to get Yuuri to be even half as relaxed as his idol was. He had trailed behind him on the ice, watching him like always, and feeling the deepest disappointment in himself.
He had worked so hard to get there, to the place where he could finally skate on the same ice as Victor, and he’d still felt as distant from him as he had while watching him on TV. But this time it was different.
Yuuri smiled hesitantly, and Victor grinned back at him. As Yuuri’s introspection slowed him down, Victor had matched his speed and glided easily beside him. He felt happiness bloom inside his chest as he realised that his dream truly was coming true. This was what he wanted. He was truly skating on the same ice as Victor.
The moment was interrupted by Yakov calling them over. He wanted a run-down of every jump on Yuuri’s roster. Victor gave him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder before sailing off to the far side of the rink to practice by himself. Yuuri fixed Yakov with a look of determination and started running through his roster, starting with his easiest jumps and working up to the hard ones. Yakov watched impassively at first, but soon a look of astonishment started to dawn on his face.
Yuuri had been running through jumps for almost 5 minutes straight and wasn’t even out of breath, and Yakov was starting to realise what Victor had seen in him. He remembered the boy from last year’s Grand Prix. As a coach he was always appraising other skaters, and he had watched Yuuri mess up jump after jump. He had admired his footwork, so clean and neat, definitely what had carried him through to the Grand Prix, but those missed landings….
Every missed jump had concealed his true strength, perhaps his greatest weapon. He had the endurance of an ox. He had been sceptical about the viral video of Stay Close To Me. How could someone so out of shape keep up with Victor’s insane routine? Impossible! He had been sure it was edited together, but now he could see he’d been wrong.
He watched him land his last jump, a Quadruple Salchow, and skate back to him. He had stuck every landing, although he had stepped out of one or two. There was only a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and his breathing was deep and even. He must be some kind of monster! Yakov kept a straight face as he nodded his approval. With his agility, his grace and his endurance, Yuuri Katsuki was no doubt a top contender for the Grand Prix. He wondered what had caused the skater’s problems last year. He was too old for puberty to be the issue. Maybe something in his personal life? He glanced over at Georgi briefly and frowned. Maybe Yuuri had a bad breakup last year. In any case, he seemed in fine form now. He had landed everything and had an impressive range. His Triple Axel was definitely his top move; everything about his jump had been exquisite. He decided to send him off to skate with Victor for the morning while he decided what to do about his training program. There was also the matter of choreography. He frowned again as he recalled.
Victor had made himself very plain. He had announced that he had brought Yuuri Katsuki here to train with him that he, Victor, would be choreographing his routines. Yakov waved Yuuri off in his abrupt English, informing him he had met his expectations and he was to study under Victor for now. He watched the young skater beam with pride as he skated off towards his troublesome star.
Yakov turned as the younger skaters started pouring into the rink and barked a few orders at them to start their warmups. He turned back in time to watch as Victor greeted Yuuri, grabbing him by the hand and spinning him. The cat-like ease with which Yuuri balanced himself, turning the momentum into a twizzle before easily launching into a triple toe was exciting to watch. Did he ever run out of energy? He had so much potential.
“Yakov says I’m to practice with you this morning!” Yuuri called over to Victor as he skated down the rink. Victor had landed smoothly from a jump and glided backwards for a moment before spinning to a stop. Skating towards Yuuri, he reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling Yuuri towards him but at the last minute flinging him into a spin. He watched as Yuuri effortlessly spun in a dead straight line, lifting out of the twizzle with a neat triple toe before gliding to a stop.
“You’re too good, Yuuri. Yakov is going to replace me with you.” Victor smiled as Yuuri blushed at the praise.
“No one could ever replace you Victor.” He said, brushing self-consciously at his lower arm. Victor noticed it was the wrist he had touched.
“Has Yakov decided what to do with you yet?” Victor asked, leaning against the barrier and letting his eyes roam over the far end of the rink. Nearly everyone had arrived and was crowding the other end.
“Not sure. I hadn’t even thought about skating myself this year. I don’t know what to do about routines or a theme.” His voice trailed off as he glided towards Victor. He came to a halt a metre from him, lost in thought.
“Don’t worry about your routines Yuuri. I’m going to write them for you.”
It took a moment for the meaning to sink in, and when it did Yuuri’s eyes went wide.
“You- what?” His outburst caused everyone to stop and look over at them, and he continued in a quieter voice.
“You’re going to choreograph my routines?” he couldn’t believe it, but Victor was nodding happily.
“You can’t imagine how it felt Yuuri, to see you skating my routine like you were born to do it. No one else here could keep up with me.”
It began to dawn on him that this must be the reason Victor had dragged him halfway across the world. Of course. He was a rival, a challenge for Victor. Victor wasn’t attracted to him the way he was to Victor. He felt his face grow hot for the second time that morning, but Victor didn’t seem to notice. Despite the crushing feeling that had settled in his chest, Yuuri decided that he would take whatever Victor wanted to offer him. If he wanted to be rink mates and friendly rivals, then that’s exactly what Yuuri would be.
They spent the morning going over the choreography Victor had been working on. Set to the music “On Love: Eros”, it was an incredibly sexy piece of skating. Even without the accompanying music, Victor’s graceful form drew views from the other skaters as he showed off some of the key components. Yuuri watched, both enthralled by Victor and at the same time terrified because how could I possibly skate that?
By that afternoon, Yakov had called them over to officially give his blessing for Victor to choreograph Yuuri’s routines. At this announcement, Angry Yuri exploded in rapid-fire Russian directed at Victor, who smiled and laughed in his offhand way. Yuuri looked between the tiny ball of blond fury and his new mentor with bewilderment, and Mila swooped in to kindly explain the gist of the argument.
Apparently Victor had promised Indignant Yuri that if he won the Junior Grand Prix, Victor would choreograph a routine for his senior debut. And Victor had completely forgotten about it. But if Shouting Yuri was anything to go by, Victor wouldn’t be getting away with it. Yuuri watched the exchange, not understanding the words but suddenly feeling a sense of overwhelming pressure.
Victor had said he would choreograph Yuuri’s routines, but what about his own? And now Younger Yuri... Mila noticed the worried look on Yuuri’s face and was quick to reassure him, thinking he was upset about the shouting.
“Don’t mind those two, honestly. They’re always like that.” She shrugged in a “Geniuses, amiright?” kind of way, and Yuuri forced a smile for her benefit. He watched as Victor pulled Blond Yuri towards him, getting him in a headlock and messing up his hair while the younger skater swore and fought to free himself. Yuuri was already determined to do well this year, but now he felt the added pressure of not letting Victor down. He would do everything in his power to make the burden Victor had taken on himself lighter. To choreograph not just Yuuri’s routines, but one for Irate Yuri as well, all on top of his own routines…
Red-faced Yuri was glaring at him, and he suddenly realised they’d switched from Russian to English to include him.
“We’re going to have a little competition Yuuri!” Victor looked positively delighted as he made his announcement.
“Yuuri versus Yuri! I’ll make a Short Program for you to present in one week. Whoever wins gets a Free Skate choreographed by me!”
This declaration had calmed down the other Yuri considerably. He was glaring up at Yuuri with an expression of superiority that gave the impression he thought Yuuri wouldn’t be a challenge to beat.
“He’s totally underestimating me,” Yuuri thought to himself, and a small smile played on his lips. He might not be up on Victor’s level, but there was no way he was going to back down from the challenge being issued by this angry kitten.
Victor noticed Yuuri’s look and smiled. There was no way Yuuri was going to lose. Victor had seen that look before. He caught Yuuri’s eye and winked at him, skating off before Yuuri could manage a response.
Yuuri watched him go, ignoring the babble as it resumed around him. Lost in thought, it took a moment for Yuuri to realise Mila was talking to him again. Yakov had asked her to help Yuuri work on his landings and she was asking him where he was having trouble.
He smiled at her gratefully, and they started to run through the jumps they had in common. He could see why Yakov had put him with her: Mila could land everything he struggled with. He tried to focus on learning from her examples but he had to admit it was hard to stay focused. He cast a glance at the far side of the rink where Victor was given a wide berth. Yakov had insisted that everyone, (“Yes, I said everyone Yuri be quiet!”) left Victor alone so he could concentrate on choreographing in peace. While Yuuri wouldn’t dream of interrupting Victor, he stole many looks during the afternoon.
Victor had a notepad open on the barrier which he would occasionally skate over and scribble in. Yuuri caught glimpses of the components as he stole glances in Victor’s direction whenever Mila wasn’t looking. He could tell the different routines apart from one another; he already knew the style of Eros. Interspersed were elements that didn’t match either Eros or each other. One was breathtakingly beautiful, and Victor looked like an angel skating it. Yuuri could see elements of devotion in it. One move that Yuuri particularly liked was when Victor would skate backwards, hands pressed together and raised like he was praying with his face tipped up to the heavens. The third routine was almost the opposite. Victor skated faster than he did in Eros, and the moves were more closed and defensive. He would have to wait to see more of the routine in order to follow the story it would tell.
By the day’s end, despite how hard he had been working he really didn’t want to leave the ice. It had felt so good to be back out on the rink that he had barely noticed the time passing and was surprised when Yakov called them all in. To Yuuri’s intense embarrassment, Yakov made a point of congratulating him on joining them officially, and he removed his glasses to clean them with his jacket to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. They filed out of the arena to remove their skates, and Yuri turned back just in time to see Victor standing motionless in the now empty rink, watching him.
Yuuri felt another blush rise. Even across the ice, he could feel the intensity with which Victor watched him. But in a moment it was gone. Victor smiled and raised an arm in greeting before retrieving his note pad and skating over to Yuuri.
Together they exited the rink and Victor asked Yuuri if he’d like to try the hot tub.
“It’s amazing after a day of skating, you won’t know yourself, really.” Victor gushed as they made their way to the locker rooms. Yuuri smiled to himself, thinking fondly of the onsen back home, but he couldn’t disappoint Victor; he looked so excited. Agreeing quickly, they removed their skates and hit the showers to clean up. Belatedly, while showering Yuuri realised his training gear lacked any kind of swimwear, but fortunately Victor had come prepared and offered Yuuri the tiniest pair of swimming trunks Yuuri had ever seen. Briefly towelling off, Yuuri donned the tiny pants and followed Victor to the gym. He draped his damp towel around his shoulders in an effort to feel less exposed. Victor was wearing an identical pair of tiny swimwear but was swinging his towel frivolously as he marched towards the hot tub and the amount of Victor that was visible to Yuuri shouldn’t have been allowed.
Mila, Julia and another girl Yuuri didn’t know were already in the hot tub, but as they entered the gym the third skater was climbing out. Clad in a skimpy bikini in bright pink, she waved to Victor as she passed them, giving him an appraising look before shouting her goodbyes to her rink mates.
Victor smiled in greeting, but was it Yuuri’s imagination or did he not seem very interested in her? Shaking himself out of his head, he told himself to stop overanalysing everything. He was here to improve his skating alongside Victor, not seduce him.
Mila brought him back to the present with a low whistle.
“Looking good, Yuuri.” She winked at him, and she and Julia giggled as Yuuri blushed.
“Stop teasing my student, Mila.” Victor playfully chastised, climbing into the tub and immediately taking up most of the room with his long legs.
“Come on, Yuuri,” he motioned for Yuuri to join them, and Yuuri hesitantly climbed up and into the swirling water.
It was deliciously warm, and he sunk neck-deep straight away in the healing water. Feeling more at ease now he was somewhat covered by the water, Yuuri let himself relax and enjoy the company. They had arranged themselves in each cover of the spa, Yuuri and Victor opposite Mila and Julia, They chose to speak in English to include him, and Julia managed to join in by saying as much as she could in English, with her friend translating the occasional Russian to keep the conversation going. Mila was hilarious, regaling them with the latest gossip from around the rink. Georgi had apparently suffered an incredibly brutal dumping recently, and that’s why he was Mr Gloom.
Victor laughed as Mila re-enacted the public break-up, enlisting Julia’s help to play the role of a heartbroken Georgi while Mila’s Anya dissed him and launched herself into the arms of another man (a very startled Yuuri).
“So that’s why he’s been so dark lately,” Victor mused when the tale came to an end.
“I did warn him; she came with a reputation. Poor Georgi.” Yuuri was gratified to see that even as they had laughed at his misfortune, they all wore identical looks of sympathy at his plight. Yuuri was glad they seemed to care about each other. It wasn’t every rink that you could get along with your rink mates. Especially in Singles skating, where everyone was essential your rival.
After another 10 minutes the girls announced they had better get out before they became waterlogged and departed, leaving Yuuri alone with Victor. In the space created by their withdrawal Yuuri suddenly felt self-conscious about how close he was sitting to Victor, and moved around to the opposite corner. Looking up, he realised this position wasn’t much better, as now he was staring directly into Victor’s face.
The silence that fell was broken first by Victor, who asked how Yuuri had gone that afternoon.
“Good. I worked on my landings with Mila.” Yuuri tried not to stare at Victor, but it was hard: he didn’t know where else to look.
“I saw you. I think you were improving by the end. You usually have impressive form but you can be shaky on your landing leg.”
Victor had moved closer as he spoke, and Yuuri froze as he felt a hand on his calf.
“You need to bend your knee more,” Victor’s hand travelled up his calf and gently bent his knee as he spoke, and Yuuri squeaked when he tried to reply.
“Yes! I mean, I know.” Yuuri hoped that Victor would assume his pink cheeks where due to the warm water.
“You’re so stiff, Yuuri.” Victor chuckled, and Yuuri felt the hand still resting on his leg rub him gently.
“Turn around.”
It was said gently, but carried the weight of a command. Slowly, Yurri spun on the spot, drifting closer to Victor as he did so and holding the edge of the hot tub for balance.
Victor’s arms gently came around his shoulders and dragged him backwards, and Yuuri found himself sitting, legs outstretched, caged between Victor’s long legs. Victor began to massage his shoulders and back gently, fingers kneading at the tense muscles until Yuuri let himself relax.
“There you go,” Victor’s voice was still gentle as he murmured words of encouragement in Yuuri’s ear.
“You did really well today.”
This was heaven. Victor’s skilled fingers were working every knot from his back and the low voice in his ear was sending shivers up and down his spine. It wasn’t until he felt the first hot breath tickle his neck that he started to panic.
Suddenly it dawned on him just how close Victor was, and how the closeness was directly correlated to all kinds of things happening to him below the surface. They would have to get out of the hot tub soon, and wearing nothing but a scrap of lycra Victor was sure to notice.
“Jeez Yuuri, you’re all tense again. I didn’t think I was that bad at massages.” Victor teased playfully as his hands smoothed broad strokes across Yuuri’s shoulders and down his spine.
Yuuri didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t used to this. Was Victor flirting with him? Or was he like this with everyone? With no way of measuring his current actions against his normal behaviour Yuuri was lost. And it didn’t help that his overactive imagination kept suggesting things to him like “He hasn’t offered anyone else a massage,” and “No one’s visited him at home since you’ve arrived,”.
“Yuuri?” Victor’s hands had stilled, and with a start Yuuri realised he hadn’t responded yet. With a hasty “Sorry” he turned his head to apologise to Victor, only to freeze as he realised how close he was to Victor’s face.
The word died on his lips as their eyes met. Yuuri flushed again and immediately scooted away, his eyes darting between Victor’s lips and intense look he was giving him.
Victor didn’t respond right away, his hands held up in front of him where they had been resting on Yuuri’s shoulders.
“What’s wrong, Yuuri?” Victor asked as his expression became a mixture of confusion and concern.
“N-nothing!” Yuuri hastily replied, glancing around for inspiration. His face still felt hot and as his gaze fell on his towel he abruptly announced,
“I just – maybe I fell asleep for a moment. The heat, you know…” He trailed off uncertainly, not really sure what he was saying anymore.
“Maybe that’s enough hot-tubbing for today then,” Victor said, giving him one more look of concern before climbing out and grabbing his towel.
Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. While Victor’s back was turned he quickly climbed out and grabbed his own towel. Fortunately his embarrassment was killing his arousal and by the time he had towel dried himself he was respectable again.
“Let’s head home, Yuuri.” The casual way Victor threw those words out didn’t match the way it caused Yuuri to feel. He was living out his fantasies and wildest dreams because for some reason Victor wanted to train with him and create his routines and on top of all that he was living with his idol.
He didn’t know what he’d even done to deserve half of what was happening to him, but he hoped fervently that his luck would hold out for a bit longer. Just one year, that’s all he asked. Just let him have this one year with Victor and then he would go back to his unglamorous and mediocre life.
Head down as he was lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice Victor had stopped in the doorway. He ploughed straight into him, losing his balance for a moment before strong hands gripped his upper arms and steadied him on his feet.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Yuuri? You don’t look well.”
Victor’s face was a mask of concern as Yuuri quickly insisted that he was fine.
“Sorry! I’m fine! Really.”
Victor frowned as Yuuri brushed past him, heading back to the locker room with his head ducked. He followed after him, deciding to let it go for now but at the same time resolving to keep a closer eye on the younger skater in the future. It had been a pretty intense week for anyone, never mind someone returning to a competitive training regime from a break of who knows how many months.
As he dressed, Victor thought about the last week. Despite how quickly Yuuri had settled in here, he still wasn’t opening up to him like he had assumed he would. He had only half been joking when he’d called Yuuri his boyfriend to Makkachin. He’d had his eye on Yuuri since the Grand Prix last year and although Yuuri coming over without being expressly invited he counted as a step forward, progress was slower than he’d have liked. He had been pleasantly surprised to see Yuuri cuddling with Makkachin when he first woke up this morning and he wanted to keep this momentum going. As it was, it looked like Yuuri was retreating from him again and he didn’t want to lose all the ground he’d gained so far.
Casting a look over at Yuuri as he tied the drawstring of his track pants, Victor had an idea. The best way to win him over was probably food. Yuuri had just started putting on his shirt as Victor called over to him.
“Is there anything special you want to eat to celebrate being back on the ice?” Victor picked up his own shirt, but paused, the fabric held loosely in his hand as he waited for Yuuri’s response.
Yuuri blinked at him, his glasses askew. As he had pulled his shirt over his head he’d knocked his glasses off his nose. He was now struggling to get the collar clear of his face. Victor laughed, dropping his shirt back onto his bag and closing the distance between them. He tugged the fabric down firmly before gently placing Yuuri’s glasses back on his nose.
Yuuri stared up at him dumbfounded. Victor had just said something to him, but he had completely forgotten what it was. His brain was so caught up with overanalysing everything Victor did that he had completely missed what Victor had said. The fact that he was now waiting for a reply, shirtless and staring at him was more than a little distracting.
“Y-yes?” He decided to throw caution to the wind. When in doubt, agree. To his relief Victor laughed.
“Shall we have katsudon again then?” Victor smiled and Yuuri found himself grinning back. Twice. In one week. He didn’t deserve Victor: the man was too good.
“Definitely.” He agreed.
Deciding that they would pick up the required ingredients while walking Makkachin, they headed home in good spirits. Makkachin was overjoyed to see them, as usual, and Victor disappeared into the kitchen to start the rice cooking while Yuuri rolled around on the floor with her.
While washing the rice, Victor snuck glances at Yuuri, smiling as he watched him laugh and play with Makkachin. He had picked himself up and crawled to the sofa, collapsing against the cushions. Makkachin had immediately leapt up and was pawing at Yuuri, her soft whine seeming to indicate it wasn’t time for sleeping, it was time for a walk.
Yuuri’s arms curled around her and hugged her close. Victor, water still pouring from the tap, watched transfixed as Yuuri murmured to her in Japanese. When the water started to overflow the pot, he swore softly and shut off the tap. Quickly draining the rice and trying not to wash any more of the grains down the sink, he measured the correct amount of water back into the pot and dropped it into the rice cooker.
“Alright, ready to go!” He announced, hitting the start button on the rice cooker and looking over at the pair on the sofa. Yuuri sat up slowly, stretched and yawned. Looking over to Victor, he was surprised to see him watching him.
“Sorry!” He leapt to his feet, and Makkachin bounced away, startled by his sudden movement.
Victor shook his head at him in amazement.
“No need to be sorry, Yuuri. You’ve had an exhausting day.” Victor moved closer, reaching out to straighten Yuuri’s glasses: they had been knocked askew again.
To his great delight, Yuuri blushed deeply as he looked up at Victor with wide eyes.
Yuuri stared transfixed as Victor gazed at him with eyes dark with desire. He felt frozen in place as Victor’s gaze dropped lower, and unconsciously he licked his lips. The reaction this caused in Victor was remarkable. They were so close together Yuuri could hear the short intake of breath as Victor swayed closer to him still. Yuuri felt both petrified and exhilarated as it occurred to him that Victor might actually be about to kiss him.
Everything felt like it was going in slow-motion. Yuuri felt his eyelids close. He had tilted his face up ever so slightly, and he could hear his heartbeat pounding, drowning out the world around him. Until a strong force barrelled into him and knocked him off his feet.
“Makkachin, no!” He heard Victor call out before a heavy weight pinned him to the ground. Makkachin, growing tired of being ignored at her designated walking time, had taken matters into her own paws.
He opened his eyes just in time to see Victor looming over them, gently pulling Makkachin off him and offering a hand to pull Yuuri back to his feet.
“I suppose we’d better go then,” Yuuri laughed, and Victor’s worried expression cleared as he realised Yuuri wasn’t hurt.
Makkachin, completely oblivious to the mood she had just killed kept bouncing around their feet until Victor grabbed her lead and they filed out the door.
They kept the pace slow, heading towards their local supermarket instead of to the hill they usually climbed. Makkachin was thrilled with a change to their routine and bounded ahead of them, but Victor deliberately kept them at a walk. He knew Yuuri would never complain but the week had clearly taken a lot out of him. He was working hard every day and he deserved a break.
Yuuri offered to wait with Makkachin while Victor shopped. He felt very conspicuous loitering at the shop entrance; Makkachin was both a blessing and a curse. While she provided a neutral topic of conversation between him and the various people who stopped to pat her, he was 100% convinced that no one would be trying to engage him in conversation if he wasn’t holding a beautiful poodle.
Two girls had come up to fawn all over Makkachin, and they had quickly established that Yuuri didn’t speak any Russian. They had a few failed mime attempts before they gave each other a sort of worried look and shrugged. Now it seemed like they were trying to teach him how to say something in Russian. They kept pointing to Makkachin and saying something. It either meant “cute” or possibly “dog” going by context; Yuuri really couldn’t tell which. He asked them if they spoke English and they both shook their heads. He had just started to feel like this was all a bit too overwhelming when Victor wandered out clutching a large bag. One of the girls asked him what sounded like a question. Yuuri could only stare at her, biting his lip and shaking his head. He told them “Sorry, I don’t understand” in both Japanese and English, but when the other girl noticed Victor she squealed and pointed. Immediately they rushed over and started talking rapidly, pointing back at a bewildered looking Yuuri.
To his surprise, Victor laughed and nodded as he spoke to them. The girls looked relieved as they turned and waved to Yuuri. Yuuri waved back, very confused but trusting that Victor would explain whatever had just happened.
He was still laughing when he walked over, and Yuuri had to ask what was so funny. Victor took a moment to compose himself.
“They thought you’d stolen Makkachin!” he blurted out, stooping to pat Makkachin who was oblivious to the scene she’d caused.
“O-oh,” Yuuri thought, reanalysing the interaction and feeling the pieces fall into place. Victor’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter and Yuuri soon felt himself smiling with him.
“No wonder they wouldn’t leave Makkachin alone. They wanted to know she was safe and not with some stranger.” He murmured, and Victor looked up at him. Staring into the store where the girls had disappeared, he didn’t notice how Victor looked at him tenderly.
Victor straightened up and readjusted his grip on the groceries.
“Well, you’re certainly not a stranger.” He said as they set off.
Yuuri fell into step with Victor as they walked back home. Maybe he should have Victor start teaching him some Russian. If something like that happened again he at least wanted to be able to say that he was a friend of Victor’s and not a dog-napper.
He expressed this wish to Victor whose face immediately lit up. And so as they walked home, Victor taught Yuuri how to say “hello”, “good morning”, “how are you”, “yes”, “no” and “thanks” which he thought might be the most immediately useful words, and promised to teach him more once he’d mastered those. Yuuri practiced them all the way back, Victor correcting his pronunciation and praising him liberally when he got it right.
As soon as they were through the door, Victor insisted that Yuuri go and rest while he made dinner. Yuuri unclipped Makkachin’s lead and hung it up inside the door while protesting that he was fine. Victor, who had already donned his silly apron, pointed with a wooden spoon to the sofa and demanded that Yuuri relax. Unable to argue with a grown man wearing a ruffled apron, he acquiesced and flopped onto the sofa again, letting Makkachin climb up with him and settling back as Victor turned on the TV.
“There’s an international channel, although its probably all boring news. Try this channel, its usually got fun game shows.” As Victor clicked over to the channel, a bright scene filled with excited and chattering people filled the screen. Yuuri took the remote Victor held out to him and felt his fingertips lightly brush against his. He found himself staring at Victor again when a laugh from the TV jolted him back to the present.
Victor was still leaning over him, gently smiling.
“Dinner won’t be long.”
Victor returned to the kitchen. The rice was done already, and he fluffed it with the wooden spoon before turning to the bag of ingredients. He felt like he’d mastered katsudon, even though he’d only made it a handful of times now. He stole glances as he chopped and prepped and cooked; Yuuri was watching the game show, transfixed. Lying back on the sofa with his feet pointing towards the TV, Yuuri had to peer around Makkachin who had settled herself lying over his chest while he watched.
It certainly didn’t look like the most convenient way to watch TV but the scene made Victor’s heart sing.
It only took Victor 30 minutes to have two assembled bowls of katsudon on the bar. Yuuri had clicked off the TV and floated over to the bar when he heard Victor get the bowls out of the cupboard and now he watched as Victor placed one of the bowls in front of him.
“Spasibo.” Yuuri said shyly, thanking Victor with his brand new Russian vocab and blushing when Victor praised him profusely. As they ate Victor quizzed him on the rest of his vocab and added two new ones, “good night” and “see you tomorrow”. Yuuri repeated them back to him several times, and Victor watched how his eyebrows were drawn down in concentration. It was kind of adorable how seriously he took it.
No matter how much he wanted to stay with Victor, Yuuri knew he’d better turn in soon. He was feeling the toll of the past week and if he didn’t climb into bed soon he’d probably fall asleep right here in Victor’s living room. Standing and announcing that as Victor had cooked once again that he would do the dishes, he took both Victor’s and his own empty bowls to the sink. Behind him Victor began to protest and followed him into the kitchen. He was hovering so close to Yuuri that it was making him nervous again. As he rinsed the dishes they kept sliding out of his shaking fingers. Giving up before he broke something he plugged the sink and let the hot water run. He stilled as strong hands rested on his shoulders and gently began to massage.
“Yuuri, leave this to me. You should get an early night.”
Victor’s voice was low and his breath tickled Yuuri’s ear, he was so close.
“Nonsense, it’ll only take a minute.” Yuuri replied, shutting off the water and fishing for the sponge beneath the foam.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Victor continued to massage gently, and Yuuri felt the tension draining out of him and he gave in to the ministrations.
“Why –“ Yuuri began to ask, then cut himself off. He shook his head quickly, grabbed the sponge and started furiously cleaning the dishes.
“You can help, then.” He told Victor, who was still touching Yuuri but had ceased his massage out Yuuri’s sudden outburst.
“Okay,” He agreed easily, grabbing the tea towel and taking the first bowl from Yuuri. It didn’t take them long to finish up, and Yuuri hurriedly dried his hands, first flicking the excess water from them and gripping his sweatshirt nervously as he backed away.
“Thank you for today. S-spasibo.” Yuuri stammered as he retreated towards the door.
Victor hung back, leaning against the kitchen bench and watching Yuuri’s face change colour.
Drawing himself upright, Yuuri, one hand on the doorknob, faced Victor and told him “good night”, hoping desperately his face wasn’t as red as he felt it was.
“Sladkikh snov, Victor.”
Victor was smiling gently as he returned the greeting.
“Sladkikh snov, Yuuri.”
Escaping into his open apartment, Yuuri mentally berated himself all the way to the bedroom, and as he crawled into bed it was that gentle face of Victor’s that he saw lulling him to sleep.
Since his arrival he had seen so many more faces of Victor than he’d ever expected to see. This last one he decided was his favourite.