Victuuri Week – Day Eight

Title: Do you think it would be a good idea to put
chocolate in katsudon?
Author: Lainx
Rating: /
Warnings: /
Summary:

It’s
Valentine’s Day in St Petersburg! Or, as Yuri Plisetsky likes to call it, “Idiots
in Love’s Day”. Well, he isn’t that wrong, is he?

Link to A03: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9724148

When Yuuri still went to school in Japan, he gradually
understood the importance of the day. Girls would sweep homemade chocolate
delicacies to boys or other girls, or everyone would gift everyone plain
chocolate, and a month later, guys would reciprocate triply. Some people, of
course, would just celebrate both days – the more chocolate or candies, the
better, after all. But while he had received his fair part of chocolate, he
never had to reciprocate anything but obligatory presents on White Day.

However, as he now has a non-Japanese lover, he
quickly starts pondering about Valentine’s Day itself. Could Victor really be
expecting to be offered chocolates on this day? Or maybe would he want
something else? They were athletes, after all…

His musings take the form of endless loops on
the ice, mostly after his practice, while Victor works on his own programs. It
does not go unnoticed by some younger blond skater, who had grown into the
habit of staying after practice, too. He would never say it, but he actually
enjoys getting Yuuri to himself after their parallel training sessions – they still
trade instructions on jumps or steps sequence.

And Yuuri is a nice person. After stealing Victor
in Japan for a year, he actually brought him back to competition, and then
proceeded to make the whole Russian team fall in love with him as well. For
Georgi, it happened when he confided that half of his skating feelings now
emanated from the love he felt for his fiancé. For Mila, it had been easier – Yuuri
just had to shyly comment on her strength on the ice, before promptly bowing
before her out of respect, and she had been enchanted by his character. Even Yakov
had come to admire his tenacity on the ice, and Lilia had been charmed by his underlying
skill in ballet-like step sequences.

So, even if he does not say it, Yuri Plisetsky
is damn grateful the other Yuuri became his rink mate. Hence why, after
watching him circle for a good dozen minutes on the ice without attempting any
jumps or any more complex patterns, he starts skating towards him, matching his
speed and adjusting to his movements.

They would do great in pair skating, he thinks,
then blushes, and also scowls.

“Oï, katsudon!” he calls him, shaking him out
of his thoughts.

“Ah, Yurio!” Yuuri smiles, reducing his speed. “Are
you going to wait on Victor too? Did you want to come over tonight?”

“Do I… Yeah, why not”, Yuri easily agrees, even
if spending the night at Victor and Yuuri’s apartment during the week meant
lazily ordered cheese and pepperoni pizza with an added ration of home-cooked green
vegetables. “But that’s not what I wanted to ask, in fact.”

His embarrassment tints his cheeks in an even
deeper red, and he purposefully faces the other way before continuing his
sentence.

“You’ve been at it for hours now,” he exaggerates
to refer to Yuuri aimless skating. “I’ve seen you staring at Vitya. Is there
any…you know…anything going on?”

And Yuuri, in a testament of how much he must
be worried at something, does not even tease him for caring about his stupid
couple. Instead, he gestures for Yuri to follow him to the edge of the rink,
reaching for a tissue in the puddle tissue box Victor always brings to
practice. After blowing his nose, he leans on the barrier, and while gazing at
his fiancé, asks Yuri in a low voice:

“Do you think Victor even celebrate Valentine’s
Day, Yura?”

Okay, no. Yuri did not expect this to be
bothering the other skater. His own Valentine’s records were a big, empty grid,
and he does not particularly want to think about it right now. But after one
look at the other man’s face, he painfully understands that he apparently has
to. Damn.

“Do you mean it, like, do we celebrate the dumb
day in Russia, or does he personally
do it?”

“No, I meant… Victor. I know you do it in
Russia, I researched it a bit, but… Do you think he would like to do it, you
know, with me?”

Yuri stares at him, speechless. What an idiot.

“Katsudon. You and Victor literally are
engaged. With gold rings and all. Do you really
think he would object to being your Valentine?!”

At this, the other skater actually smiles, his
face brightening as if he had momentarily forgotten he was engaged to his
partner. What an idiot.

“Ah, you’re right, Yurio… I should not worry so
much!” he says in a self-conscious voice.

“I know you don’t do it on purpose,” Yuri
mechanically answers.

Yuuri turns his attention to him, a fond look
on his face. Suddenly, his grin freezes, and he starts biting his lip.

“Say, Yurio… In Japan, when we…well, when girls
offer chocolates on Valentine’s Day, they often try making it themselves.”

“Are you a girl?” Yuri asks, nonplussed.

“No,” the other admits. “But it is Valentine’s Day.”

“What is your point, katsudon?”

“My point is… I do share a kitchen with Victor, now. Do you think Yakov and Lilia
would object to me using theirs for a day?”

Yuuri had never thought baking homemade
chocolates would be this hard. In this moment of adversity, he finds himself
thanking Kami and the Heavens for the presence of Yuri Plisetsky who, after
having sworn he would not be setting
a foot in the kitchen except for a fire breaking out, came rushing in as soon
as one of the bowls clattered to the floor.

“It is not that
hard, katsudon, stop moaning.”

They are both wearing aprons, and while Yuri’s
is immaculate, even as he is stirring a sugarish paste with force, Yuuri’s own
cloth is covered in colorful blotches of food.

“I can’t believe Hiroko did not teach you how
to cook. Or your father. Whatever. How did you survive in Detroit?”

“Making chocolate is very different from
cooking everyday dishes,” Yuuri defends himself while attempting to tidy the
counters. “I can usually get by as long as it’s not too complicated. But I’m
helpless when it comes to pastries or such.”

“Nah, you think?” the boy sarcastically
answers, still picturing the mess he helped saving.

His cat had been far too happy to try licking
everything on the floor as well. As if one idiot in the house was not enough.

“Perhaps I should try using chocolate in other
stuff. I heard people use it as spice sometimes. Do you think it would be a
good idea to put chocolate in katsudon?”

The blond teenager stops stirring, addressing a
look of pure disgust at the Japanese man.

“Get out of here. I don’t even want to see your
face anymore. I’ll keep you away from the chocolate even if that’s the last
thing I do.”

The other has the audacity to laugh, as he puts
the already baked confections out of the oven.

“Hey, look, these turned out okay!” he happily
exclaims, sliding the batch of chocolates on the kitchen table.

He then rummages into a plastic bag, retrieving
a still sealed package covered with Japanese writings. He opens it, and shows a
bright heart-shaped box at Yuri, an excited grin on his lips.

“Isn’t it the cutest? Mom sent it to me, she
said it was the one she used for my dad and her first Valentine’s Day!”

As Yuri bits back the urge to gag at the overly
sweet gesture, he contemplates the state of the kitchen, and sighs at the
lecture awaiting him. Truly, the things he would do for his friends…

On the fourteenth, Victor wakes up alone.
Slightly disappointed, he rolls out of bed and starts a little at the time
displayed on his microwave. Ten in the morning. Well, no wonder Yuuri had
already left! Especially since his coach had not even told him practice was not
in order for the day…

Yuuri left him a note, stating he did not want
to wake him up too early since yesterday had been very…rowdy. Yuuri is used to
short nights – and Victor is not. The note also tells him that Makkachin needs
to be walked and that fresh coffee awaits him in the coffee pot.

Victor’s throat grows tight. How did he even
live here without Yuuri? The little reminders of his fiancé’s presence in his
apartment are as many reminders that he is loved. He is such a lucky man.

He wants the day he had planned to begin
already. He eats quickly, dresses in the same manner, and finally coaxes Makkachin
into leaving the couch – her old bones more often than not make her prefer to
rest in on the soft furniture instead of frolicking outside. As he comes back
with her from the nearby park, he stops before the florist shop in which he had
made his order a week ago. The huge bouquet of blue roses smells heavenly and
weights a comforting lot in his arms.

“Now, Makkachin, what do you want to do today?”
he asks his dog, which yawns, clearly indicating that she plans on napping and
lounging around the place.

Well, someone has to. If this day goes the
right way, he would not be coming home before late at night, after all.

After a last thorough petting of Makkachin
bouncy curls and plump cheeks, he finally leaves, practically jogging to the
rink where he is sure to find his lover. When he arrives, Yuuri is not even on
the ice, but half-lying on the bleachers, languidly watching the other skaters
practice under Yakov’s rough lead.

“So that’s what you do when your coach isn’t
around? Lazing around like a slob?”

Yuuri sits, directing a serene smile to his
lover, who swoops in to steal him a kiss. They separate under the
oh-so-not-discrete belching of someone on the ice, and Victor reveals the
bouquet hiding behind his back.

“Oh, Victor… Are you serious…”

“Be my Valentiiine, Yuuri!!” Victor singsongs, offering
him the elegant flowers with a smirk.

“Tch… You wouldn’t let me ask, would you?”
Yuuri answers, accepting the present with trembling hands. He is so thrilled. “There’s
…”

“Yuuri!!” Victor exclaims, already going down
on one knee.

“Victor, if you planned on proposing to me, I’m
sorry to break it down to you, but I kinda beat you to it months ago…”

“No no,” Victor guffaws, his hands working on
his fiancé’s skates laces. “Just let me untie that.”

“No practice today?”

“No practice today,” he confirms, making the
other man steps out of his shoes. “I’m taking you on a picturesque tour around
St Petersburg today!”

“Did you find that expression in a touristic
brochure?” Yuuri teases, laughing at Victor’s face. “Come on, big dork; take me
sightseeing instead of pouting.”

And despite Yakov’s protests at his eloping
pupil, they rush out of the rink, chuckling under the drizzling rain of a “regular”
day in St Petersburg.

Yuuri won’t lie. This has easily been one of
their best dates yet. Victor went all out – rented car, champagne, and finally
a candlelight dinner at a restaurant he had been forbidden from looking at the
prices. He would feel bad if not for the cheerful expressions on Victor’s face
each time he revealed another surprise. If the man wanted to dote on him, he
would let him.

When they come back home, they first and
foremost spend some time with their loving puddle, feeding her and brushing her
difficult fur. High-maintenance, just like her human, Yuuri scoffs internally.
Even though today, he felt the one
pampered.

As they enter their bedroom, he thinks that he
has to reciprocate, somehow. He wants to do the pampering, now. Since he does
not want to be bothered by on overly curious dog in the middle of things, he
kicks the door close with the heel of his feet, before passing a hand through
his hair, almost absent-mindedly.

Victor gulps, already retreating to the bed.
His Yuuri has the looks of long and pleasurable nights and he can’t wait. He
throws an angelic smile at him, opening his arms invitingly.

Yuuri does not hesitate to pounce on him,
pushing Victor on the bed. He gets an enthusiastic “Wow!” from the man, before
he shuts him up for good.

On the next day, a thoroughly ravished and
hickeys covered Victor wakes up in his bed, alone once again. As he extends his
arms, he smiles contentedly, stretching. His fingers meeting the warm body of
his dog, which Yuuri must have let climb on the bed after he left for the rink,
meaning he has already walked her.

He gets up, his smile widening at the enormous bouquet
put in a vase on the coffee table. He is way too eager to meet his fiancé
again, so he packs his breakfast to eat on the way to the rink.

It is almost noon when he reaches the building,
and he goes straight to the locker room, ready to change and pull on his
skates. What he gets, however, when he opens his locker’s door, is a note and a
colorful heart-shaped box. His own heart begins beating twice as hard, as he
quickly retrieves the note.

To Victor Nikiforov,

I feel like a
schoolboy, hiding these in your locker and leaving you a note, but please bear
with me. I never got to do this when I was an actual Japanese schoolboy, because
even when I was a child, you already occupied my every thought. I won’t lie and
say I never offered Yuuko chocolates, that would be rude, and I am not rude,
but these are the first I effectively baked myself, and that ought to count for
something, no?

This is how we
celebrate our loved ones in Japan. And God, do I love you. It is embarrassing how
much I do. Some days, I have to pinch myself to be sure all of that is real.

I am so glad I’m living
and training with you here in St Petersburg. Even your bad coffee and horrible
cooking skills make me glad. This is our first Valentine’s Day together, but I
will make sure it is the first of a lifetime of Valentine’s Day.

I love you. Please be
my Valentine?

Katsuki Yuuri

Victor is not aware he is letting delighted
giggles escape him until he is running out of the locker room half naked and
barefoot, clutching the chocolate box to his chest. He barges in the rink main
area, spotting the dark hair of his lover resting at the barrier. He gently
shakes the box in the air, shouting at his skater.

“No solo practice today, Yuuri! I’m your
Valentine for one more day!!”

Young Yuri looks away and grumbles. Exactly
what he needed today, watching Katsudon and Victor pair skate all afternoon
with mushy looks on their faces.

Ah, well, as long as these idiots are happy…he
feels like he can, maybe, deal with it.

Victuuri Week – Day Five

Title: Lazy Winter Day
Author: Lainx
Rating: /
Warnings: /
Summary:

A look
at one of the mornings in the Katsuki-Nikiforov household, set nine years after
their first (unofficial) meeting at Sochi.

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9664424

Yuuri has been a father for two years now.

Father. The word still sounded foreign in his
mouth, like a constant surprise. “Father. I am a father. A papa.”

Even more surprising were the words “Victor is
a dad, too” which usually followed his wonder.

They had decided on adopting as soon as they
got married, two years after meeting each other. They knew the processes would
be long, and counted on that time to prepare themselves. In the end, they
launched them after Yuuri’s retirement at 26, and only received the precious
confirmation three years later.

They had been blessed with a little baby –
given their ages, they originally aimed for an older child. But Lyosha had
arrived, grumpy and already filled with energy and spite

There are nights Yuuri just can’t sleep – or go
back to sleep after waking up. Before, when he has been living alone or with no
immediate husband in the bed, he would have started a late-session of gaming,
or maybe even have got up to clean a bit around, starting his day in advance. Now,
his possibilities ranged from staying calmly cuddled with Victor in the bed, day-dreaming
until dawn, to leaving their bedroom to lounge in the living-room with a book
or his music player. He would check on his son, too – he loved watching this
tiny, tiny person snore and grumble like a grown man, all while looking so
adorable it would sometimes bring the strongest urge to pick him up and cover
him in kisses. He refrained, though. The only thing worse than a hungry baby,
he learnt pretty quickly, was a sleepy and disgruntled one.

Tonight, at 6am, when it becomes clear he will
not get any more sleep however hard he tried, he leaves his bed with
precaution, and heads for the couch. His mom had just sent them her latest
creation – a modern craft book, one of the newest stuff that came out. As he
absentmindedly pets the cover, his dog, a Labrador, comes sniffing at his feet,
before jumping to settle next to him on the couch. Victor’s dog, another poodle
he had finally got around to adopt, years after Makkachin last sleep, raises
his head just enough to notice the human, before curling back on his dog bed,
sighing.

Yuuri shakes his head, slightly smiling. The
dogs are technically theirs, but they
did choose their masters, alright.

He plugs his headphones in the back of the heavy
book, before softly opening it. “Welcome to our family, Aleksey!” is written
with big, bright letters, while recordings of Yuuri and Victor’s friends and
family wishing welcome to the little boy resound in multiple languages in his
ears.

With a brush of his index, various pictures
appear. On most of them, a fair-haired baby is either crying or beaming at the
adult holding him. He scans the faces of his relatives; his mom and Victor’s reeling
at Victor holding his son and obviously cooing at him. His father comfortably offering
his arms to a snoozing baby while his sister stroked his soft cheek, a tender
smile on her mouth. His best friend, Phichit, dark circles under the eyes from
his late trip to Japan in the middle of skating season, half-hidden under the
gigantic hamster plush he got for Lyosha. Whenever pictures were taken, the
onsen inn appeared in the background, colorful and homey.

Soon after, the setting changes to Victor and
his house in Russia, and the pictures fade, revealing a video.

“And here is Kin-kin!”
Victor voices says before the video focuses.

His husband appears,
sitting on the floor with their baby on his lap. The comparatively huge black Labrador
is shaking her tail extremely fast, her mouth opened. The baby is very still,
his eyes huge.

“Easy, Kin!” Yuuri
hears his own voice orders firmly.

The dog sits, trying
to appear as non-threatening as possible, while her tail keeps hitting the
floor behind her, betraying her suppressed excitation. Very softly, all the
while glancing at Yuuri, she leans toward Lyosha who is still in awe. When she
is close enough, she cocks her head, puzzled as to why this human looks so small
when her papa and her honorary papa are way bigger. Suddenly, Lyosha extends
his plump arms, touching the warm fur. He then starts to “oooh-s” at the
softness of the creature before him, pointing her insistently to his dad before
resuming the careful pats. His smile is eating half of his face.

Yuuri can’t help but laugh quietly at the scene
– and he can hear his past self laughing too while the camera shuffles closer.
Lyosha was just so cute.

A warm hand falls on his head, stroking his
hair, before sliding to his neck. Yuuri shifts until he is able to stare at his
husband, whose hair is, admittedly, a mess.

“Can’t sleep anymore?” Victor asks while
yawning, leaning for a kiss.

The faint taste of the strawberry syrup water
Victor keeps next to his bed to drink out during the night lingers in his
mouth, and Yuuri instantly craves for more. He twists his body to face him, and
Victor slides his fingers in his dark hair, getting a better angle to kiss him.
The Russian man lets out a definitely pleasured sound, always happy to see his
husband so responsive, feeling his arms sneak behind his back as Yuuri brings
their bodies closer. Their breaths start to come quicker as their bellies fill
with the familiar tightness of desire.

“Let’s…let’s…” Yuuri pants, palming his lover’s
ass and squeezing softly. “Vityaa…” he moans, feeling the man mouthing at his
earlobe, which almost pushes him into frenzy.

“PaaaaaaPAAAAAAAAAA!? PAPA, PAPA, PAPAAA!! PaaPAAA!?”

They separate with a huff, instinctively
turning their heads toward the corridor, from which the calls emanate.

“Haha, I guess Lyosha decided to start early as
well” Victor says, amused.

Since the calls are more inquisitive than pressing,
Yuuri takes the time to give another deep kiss at his husband before climbing
off the couch, heading towards the door hiding his son’s room.

Lyosha does not always wake up and call for him
– Victor has his load of “DiiiddYYY” as well – but when he does, it is usually
because he woke up in a good mood, and had probably been awake for a while
before deciding to call on someone. The two years-old tends to call on Victor
when his need of company is more urgent, because the man does get out of bed quicker than his spouse.

As Yuuri sets foot in the darkened room, two
round eyes and a standing little boy in blue and purple pajamas await him,
clutching the bar bed and swaying his hips.

“Papa?” he asks, simultaneously smiling and
hiding his face under the bar bed.

“Yees, Babyboy! It’s mooorning!” Yuuri
enthusiastically coos before scoping him up.
“Did you sleep well, Lyosha-chan?”

“Papa!” Lyosha answers with glee, nuzzling his
face in his father’s neck.

Yuuri brings him out of the room and into the
corridor, where Victor is leaning on the wall. The Russian man moves to embrace
them both, making noisy kisses on his son’s head and neck while playfully
swinging them from right to left, much to the delight of the little boy.

“Who’s my favorite baby? Who’s the most pretty
baby??” he gushes, enjoying the good mood of his son as much as he can.

He unfortunately knows all about babies’ mood
swings by now. That’s why he reluctantly detaches himself from them, ready to
start on the family breakfast while Yuuri heads to the bathroom. First things first,
after all.

The day is a lazy winter Sunday. They have
nothing to do, and no will to do something. Usually they would go visit one of
their rink mates, or a park, or their favorite café. Today, Yuuri’s only wish
is to stay in their home, wrapped up in a thick plaid and taking turns playing
with his baby. Of course, he is aware that the dogs eagerly pacing around
Victor as his husband sets up the table will need to be walked through the
pinching and freezing wind, but he determinedly intends on it being the only
outing of his family today.

“Say, Yuuri…” Victor starts when they are all
seated at the kitchen table with a warm drink, dogs happily snuffing at their
food a few meters away. “What do you say we stay here, today? I know you wanted
to teach Yurio how to make curry but…”

Yuuri grins at his partner, all to ready to
give in.

“I’ll text Yurio later” he says back, sipping
at his coffee. “And if he doesn’t want to cancel, he can very well come here.”

“True. How come we are growing this lazy, my
Yuuri? Is it because we’re becoming old?”

“Pff”, Yuuri scoffs. “Talk for yourself. I
think I just want a calm day. The last weeks have been crazy, what’s with the
ice show repetitions and Lyosha-chan’s cold…”

They both shiver at the memory, mechanically
checking on their child who is contently sipping at his bottle, not too fussy
for once.

“I hate it when he’s sick”, Victor confides,
stirring his warm chocolate maybe a bit too fast. “I feel so guilty.”

Yuuri nods, keeping his gaze on his son. The
first time Lyosha had been sick, they providentially still had been living in
Japan, and Yuuri’s family had been of a great help. Old family remedies and
emotional support got them through it, but Yuuri does not think he can ever
forget the expression of pure misery on Victor’s features as he watched his
baby struggles.

Victor, he learned, was good with their sweetheart. He would have never pictured it when
they met and Victor had still been the flamboyant five time gold-medalist ice skater.
But he got to witness him successively grow into a husband, and then into a
father. He got to see Victor with drool stains on his tailored shirts, Victor
patiently waving a spoon in front of a stubbornly closed little mouth for what
seemed hours, Victor terribly humming to calm a flailing baby, Victor sobbing
out of exasperation as said baby had been crying non-stop…

“Come on, Yuuri, your coffee is growing cold.”
Victor gently remarks, extending his arm to touch his spouse’s knee.

After breakfast, they settle back on the couch,
letting their son frolic in his play area before the turned-off television.
Lately he has been very fond of getting random objects, bringing them to his
parents or even to the dogs, before running off somewhere else and crash on the
carpeted floor. He immediately sets to work, filling the house with loud noises
and babbles.

Yuuri leans his head on Victor’s shoulder, both
huddled together under the plaid, as they watch the little boy enjoy himself. He
sighs, suddenly filled with warmth. At
this moment, he is sure that he is right where he is supposed to be, right
where he wants to be.

“You know, Yuuri…it’s so perfect, like this,” Victor mumbles.

He hoists their hands up and kisses his husband’s
ring finger with his plump lips. As he loses himself into his partner’s blue
gaze, he can only agree.

It is a loving, relaxing and perfect lazy
winter Sunday.