Geneviève Nikiforova loves many things in this life, but above all she loves her beautiful, beautiful wife, her incredibly sweet and beautiful son, and all of her three poodles. Directly correlated, there’s nothing she adores more than to make all the people she loves happy. She strives for it, feeds off of it. Making sure her family is happy does as much to keep her young and spirited as her one hour anti-aging creams routine and her tri-weekly yoga-dance-pilates routine.
Keeping her family happy isn’t terribly hard. She keeps her three poodles happy with lots of pats, gourmet canned dog food, long walks through parks and lots of and kisses. The reason why her and her wife’s bed is so ridiculously big and had to be costum made is just so all the dogs can fit in with them at night. She even makes sure every year her puppos go to a dog psychologist just to make sure they are living their best life.
She keeps her wife happy by kissing her every morning. Geneviève also makes sure to keep her nails trimmed, and trained to be able to hold her breath for almost four minutes straight. By being by her side and supporting her in every manner she can. Sometimes that means designing lingerie to wear for a special occasion, and sometimes that means making sure she takes her aspirin and doesn’t fall asleep at her desk. Sometimes that means preventing her gorgeous wife from being arrested for public indecency because she had a few too many glasses of champagne, and sometimes that means proposing and marrying her for the twenty-seventh time.
Keeping Vitya happy used to be simpler than it is, and Geneviève is getting progressively more concerned with how strained her beautiful son’s smile is getting. Before, all she needed to do was take him ice skating, or spin him around in the living room in a waltz, or braid his hair, or fly him to Disneyland when someone was mean to him and let him buy anything he wanted and wear the same Cinderella dress for almost a week straight.
She won’t say she understands why her Vitya looks sadder the more gold he has, but she will absolutely not stand for it. It’s already bad enough that work keeps her away from him and sometimes even prevents her from attending all of his competitions, which she still feels horrible about even if Vitya assures her that he’s not a kid anymore and that it’s okay for her to miss them.
It’s absolutely not okay, but there’s little she can do but try to plan her business trips around the cities Vitya might be competing in.
And it’s because she needs to make sure her son is happy and cared for that she finds herself in this situation.
“Are you into power tops, Vitya?” she asks her son over brunch in a charming little place in Paris.
Instead of answering, Vitya chokes on his tea. “Mama!”
“Well. Are you?”
“Mama, that’s private. Why do you want to know? Do I need to call Mamochka and tell on you?” Vitya asks, dabbing at his face and clothes with a napkin to clean the spilled tea.
“I need to know for this Grindr app thing. Mama will get you a man,” she sing-songs confidently.
There’s a beat of silence before Vitya pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling Mamochka.”
Geneviève pouts. “Spoilsport.”
Geneviève Nikiforova didn’t get the woman of her dreams, the position of prima at the Bolshoi, and a successful line of alte couture lingerie by being a quitter, and she won’t get her beautiful son Vitya a husband by being one either.
“You don’t have to sort through pictures of penises all day to get our son a husband, did you know?” Victoria says after Geneviève pulls another face at an unsolicited picture of some stranger’s genitalia. She says it like she’s concerned Geneviève doesn’t actually know that, bless her beautiful soul.
“What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t do at least this?”
“A non-meddling one?” Victoria hazards, calmly and evenly spreading jam on pieces of toast before putting them on Geneviève’s plate. Geneviève would say it’s times like this that she questions why she married Victoria, but that would be a lie and that kind of rhetoric is some straight nonsense if she has ever heard any, so she just gives her beautiful wife her most adoring smile to thank her for the toast.
“Is it meddling if you’re doing it for a good cause?”
“Yes,” Victoria answers too fast.
Geneviève pouts. “Mean.”
“Hm yes, I’m terrible really,” Victoria says and pours Geneviève’s tea for her, adding just the right amount of sugar. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this. It’s not as if you will find our son an actual husband through this app, and I imagine critiquing these boys’ dick pics for entertainment is only amusing to a point.”
“How so many of these boys don’t have a concept of composition and filters is beyond me. If you’re going to accost people with your genitals at least make it look pretty.”
Victoria snorts and slips the phone out of Geneviève’s hand, locking it and setting it by their side as they have breakfast.
“Besides,” Geneviève continues, “you never know. I might find our future son-in-law through this app, or I might find Vitya a little fun. Either way, Christophe is having fun helping me sort through all the dick pics. He’s such a nice boy.”
“Okay, sweetheart, whatever you say.”
“Vica, do you know any Japanese?” Geneviève asks, leaning over the back of Victoria’s office chair and tilting the screen of her phone towards her.
“A little bit. I speak better than I read it,” she says, grabbing Geneviève’s wrist and pulling the phone away from her face and at an angle so she can read the screen properly without her reading glasses. “Is this Grindr? Vivi, sweetheart, are you still on that?”
“I will not rest until our son is happy.”
“Have you considered that he might need something other than a husband?” Victoria asks.
“Of course I have. But our Vitya is lonely and he takes too much after you. He needs someone to dote on or he withers.”
“I still think you should let him do it at his own pace.” Victoria sighs and looks back at the phone.
“As if you don’t show pictures of Vitya to every businessman that looks remotely gay,” Geneviève points out.
Victoria only hums and squints at the phone. “Something about skating, I think. And gaming?”
“What kind of skating? Ice skating?”
“I think so. Uh, let me see. I think it says here that… it’s his mom running his profile. His sister too, maybe? I’m not sure. Something about a sister.” Victoria lets go of her wrist and leans back against her chair, looks up at Geneviève. “I think you’ve found your kindred spirit, love.”
Geneviève clicks on the profile pictures and goes through them, shoving the phone back in Victoria’s face. “But he’s cute, isn’t he? And he skates! A cute boy who skates and whose mom cares enough to try to get him a man? It’s perfect”
“I’m going to message them. Do you think they can read English?”
“And he does ballet! Look!” She twirls around in her excitement.
“Love, please don’t get your hopes up for this. This boy might not even want to date anyone at all.”
Geneviève pulls the phone away from her face and sends her wife a measured glare. “Don’t jinx this!”
Victoria sighs and shakes her head a little. “Just- take it easy. Don’t go steamrolling through everything on an off-chance.”
“I would never,” Geneviève gasps, holding her hands and consequently the phone to her chest.
Victoria gives her a look.
Geneviève backtracks. “Well, maybe I would. Just a little bit, but that’s why I have you around,” she says, spinning her wife’s chair around so she can lean over her and give her a kiss.
“Vica, you’ll never believe this!” Geneviève says, sliding into the study in her Chanel house slippers and almost tripping over two dogs on her way there. She slides right into her wife’s lap and turns her phone towards her.
“So you remember my old friend Mina and her friend The Most Beautiful Woman in Town?” she asks excitedly.
Victoria carefully tucks her silk robe back in front of her chest, holding it closed with her hand. “Faintly.”
Geneviève shoves her phone in Victoria’s face and waves at the conversation she has been having through the Grindr messaging system. “It’s them!”
“Really?” she asks, looking honestly surprised and trying to squint at the screen. “The chances of that happening must be astronomical.”
“I know! This has been fated, I’m telling you, Vica! This is it!”
Victoria kisses her on the cheek and tucks her hair behind her ear, gently turning Geneviève’s face towards her until she can make sure she has her full attention. “Remember not to get your hopes up. And not to steamroll our very hardworking son.”
“Yes, yes,” Geneviève dismisses, waving a hand. “How do you feel about a little vacation, though? We need to strike before the new season starts and Vitya gets too busy.”
Victoria sighs. “I think… it’s a good thing I’m interviewing a new possible dog-sitter right now.”
Geneviève looks to the large couch directly in front of her wife’s and sees a slack-jawed girl with a very red face. Geneviève was so excited she completely missed her.
“Oh,” she says, and gives the girl her best smile, faintly heart-shaped, “hello!”
The girl makes a noise like she’s choking and her face gets redder, and when she opens her mouth, she says, a little breathlessly, “Please let me work here.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t come to your ice show this time, sweetheart,” Geneviève says regretfully into the phone.
“It’s okay, Mama. It wasn’t anything special.”
“Everything you do is special, Vitya,” she reminds him. “And you know I love watching you skate, but your mamochka and I have been a bit busy, we had to rush a lot of work things so we could surprise you with a little vacation before the season starts! How does that sound? We got five full days free!”
“That sounds fantastic!” Vitya says excitedly. “Where are we going? What should I pack? Can Makkachin come?”
“Don’t worry, sweetie. I sent your mamochka to your house to get Makkachin and pack you some clothes, and I’ll send you your travel plans and everything so you can fly right out to our little travel destination. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“I can pack for myse- wait, you’re not with Mamochka?”
“I have a little errand to run in Detroit and then I’ll fly there too, don’t worry. And I know you can pack sweetheart, but this cuts on time! Less time packing is more time that we get to have fun!”
“I guess... Where are we going?”
Geneviève looks at the slip of paper she was handed earlier and at the door with the same exact number on it and grins. “Mama’s gotta go, sweetie. Don’t worry about it, it’s in your travel plans! Bye bye, I love you.”
She hangs up the phone and slips it into her purse, before rapping on the door with her knuckles. And then she waits, lifting her eyebrow at the loud thumping sound and vague muttered curse she hears before someone yells “Coming,” and heavy footsteps approach the dorm room door.
The door swings open.
Geneviève can practically feel how sharp her smile is beneath her teeth.
“Hi, Yuuri! I have a message from your mom.”
Getting Katsuki Yuuri on a plane was way easier that Geneviève was expecting it to be. But then again, it’s plain as day how much the boy misses his family, and all he really needed was that extra push – and maybe a healthy dose of guilt tripping – to pack a bag and follow Geneviève to the airport.
“You look nervous,” Geneviève says, glancing at where Yuuri keeps ringing his hands in his lap. “Do you want me to get you something to drink?”
“That’s- that’s probably not a good idea. I get a little…” he trails off, motioning vaguely and flushing red, “…when I’m drunk.”
So he takes after his father, is what Geneviève is hearing. She makes a mental note to throw a party with as much alcohol as she can get her hands on before they leave Hasetsu because this she has to see.
“I see,” she says. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Yuuri presses his lips together and looks firmly down at his lap, shrugging. He looks very young, all of a sudden.
“Is it flying?” She tries.
“Is it me?”
There’s a pause. “A little.”
“Hm. But not only me,” she nods. “Is it seeing your parents after being away so long? It’s been almost five years, right?”
“Four,” Yuuri corrects. “It’s been four years.”
“Are you afraid things will be different when you see them again?”
“Not- not really. It’s… my parents? They really support me. They’ve spent all this money sending me to America to train and I didn’t want to come back without anything to show for it.”
Ah. “That’s a little stupid, don’t you think?” Geneviève asks.
Yuuri jerks. “Right,” he says, voice very, very small.
“You don’t owe your parents anything. You consider yourself a burden to their finances, but from what your mother has told me, they only helped you a little bit when you started out. She says you take a summer job every summer for at least a month, do as many ice shows as you can and managed to go to college in a full scholarship.”
“And any money she makes she’s more than happy to spend it on you. She chose to have you, did she not? It’s her responsibility to ensure your happiness, isn’t it?”
“That’s a little…”
“And nothing to show for it? I know you haven’t exactly been winning golds like my Vitya, but my Vitya has four years of experience on you and has been on the ice since he was five. Your mother tells me you only really considered competing when you were twelve, didn’t you?”
“Besides, I would hardly call finishing top 10 at World’s for the last two years, and a bronze finish at Four Continents nothing.”
“But I have never made it to the final in a Grand Prix series. I haven’t- I haven’t achieved what I wanted yet,” Yuuri says, fists clenching on his knees. There’s a determined set to his jaw that Geneviève likes the look of.
“And you think that is an excuse not to see your mother? Yuuri, I have talked to your mother for the last two weeks, and I can assure you the only way you burden her is in staying away for so long.”
“I- I didn’t realize.”
“That’s okay. You’re going home now, aren’t you excited to see your mother?”
Yuuri looks up at her a little shyly. “Yeah, I missed her. And Mari and Dad. And my dog. I really missed my dog.”
“You have a dog?” Geneviève gasps, leaning closer. “What kind of dog? What’s their name? I didn’t know there was a dog, this is going to be so much more fun.”
“It’s, um,” Yuuri’s face gets a shade of red Geneviève has never witnessed on anyone else, “a toy poodle.”
If she needed any more indication that this was the right move to make this is it. “And what’s their name?”
Yuuri looks down, rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “V-Vicchan.”
“That’s funny, your mother used to call me- ohmygod! You named your dog after my son?!”
“I can explain!” Yuuri says, a little desperately, both hands up in a placating gesture.
“Oh, I can’t wait for Vitya to hear about this. He’s going to love it.”
Geneviève grabs her phone from her purse and opens up their family group chat.
“When he was eleven, he said all he wanted was for someone to name a dog after him. That that’d be better than any gold medal and now he gets to meet a dog named after him! He’s going to be so happy.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Victor’s going to be there? Victor Nikiforov is going to be there? In my house? With me? At the same time?”
Geneviève looks over at him and tilts her head. “Did I forget to mention? Oops.”
The noise Yuuri makes is so high-pitched, one of the flight attendants comes to check if he’s alright.
Hasetsu is every bit as beautiful and charming as Geneviève remembers it being, and Yu-topia looks untouched by time, still sporting that almost fairytale-like aura around it.
Geneviève follows after Yuuri and gives him space, watching with a soft expression as he fidgets in the entranceway and mutters a shy “I’m home,” in Japanese, only to be almost bowled over by his mom who comes running to see him, pulling him down into her and squeezing tightly with a fond, “Welcome home, Yuuri.”
They talk quietly in Japanese that goes over Geneviève’s head for a bit before a yip distracts them. And then Yuuri is dropping all his luggage on the floor carelessly and running to meet the small puppy that is tripping over himself to get to him.
“Thank you for bringing him home,” Hiroko says in her choppy English just as Yuuri sinks to his knees and starts openly crying, trying to pet the overexcited dog that can’t sit still and keeps jumping and trying to nip at his face, whining lowly in his excitement.
“My pleasure. You’ve raised a wonderful boy, Hiroko.”
Hiroko puts a hand to her cheek in that characteristic way she has when she’s acting shy about something and smiles, every bit as beautiful as she was when they were both in their twenties and Geneviève tried her best to get Hiroko to notice her for more than five minutes at a time.
“So have you,” Hiroko says. “Such a polite boy too,” she gushes and Geneviève beams.
“Is he inside already?”
“Yes! He was playing with Vicchan before. Your wife is with him. Such a beautiful woman, I’m so happy for you!”
Katsuki Hiroko, still, to this day, too good for this world, too pure.
“Her and Toshiya have been talking business,” Hiroko continues. “And drinking. We might have a party later on today,” she says and then gives Geneviève a wink like they’re sharing a secret.
“Maybe we should catch up to them, then?”
“Minako is coming later with drinks from her bar! She’s so excited to meet you again.”
“Well, it’ll definitely be a party then,” Geneviève grins, opens her mouth to say something else when her eyes catch Vitya coming her way, and immediately gets derailed from whatever it is she wanted to say. “Vitya!” she says, and goes over for a hug, which Vitya grants her easily, picking her up off her feet for a few moments before setting her down and letting her go.
“Hi, Mama,” he says with a sweet smile. “How was your flight?”
“It was alright, Yuuri is good company,” she says, gesturing towards the boy who is still paying them zero attention and whispering to his dog, voice sounding faintly apologetic.
Vitya frowns. “Is he okay?”
“He hasn’t seen his dog in a long time, I’m sure he’s alright.”
“Oh. Is he the errand you had to run in Detroit?” Vitya asks.
“Yes! Cute isn’t he?” Geneviève grins.
Vitya groans. “Mama, please, please tell me you didn’t organize this entire vacation to try to get me a boyfriend.”
“Don’t be silly Vitya. I wanted to spend time with you.”
“And I’m trying to get you a husband, not a boyfriend, silly.”
“Mama!” Vitya groans, and runs a hand over his face. “I don’t need a husband.”
Geneviève raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him.
“Not right now, anyway. And please tell me you didn’t just meet him on Grindr,” Vitya begs.
“Of course not. I met his mom on Grindr, and it turns out she’s a long lost friend of mine!” She leans forward and whispers. “Yuuri’s a skater too, you know. Japan’s Ace.”
Vitya frowns. “You’re trying to set me up with Katsuki?”
Geneviève claps, elated. “So you know him!”
“I know of him. It’s different. Don’t get any ideas,” Vitya sighs.
“Well, this is a great opportunity to get to know him better then! You always say how much you love to support your competitors, anyway.”
Vitya sighs again, looking defeated. “Mama, I love you, but there’s no way I’m going to magically fall in love with a boy in five days and just decide to marry him.”
Geneviève takes out her phone and taps on the recording app. “Can you repeat that here, just in case. You know how much I love a good ‘I told you so’.”
Geneviève is leaning on her wife, more tipsy than not, as they wait for Minako to appear with more drinks, so they can all have dinner together. She leans on her wife and lets Victoria twirl around a lock of her hair while she keeps conversation with the Katsukis’ eldest daughter about business and marketing strategies and whatnot, and she watches very carefully her son interact with Yuuri.
Or, well, she watches the Victor Nikiforov interact with Yuuri, fake publicity smile on as he makes casual conversation that Yuuri barely returns.
She narrows her eyes at both of them and thinks how she can fix this situation, because as cute as seeing Yuuri hide behind a toy poodle is, this isn’t what she wanted out of this weekend.
And then Minako Okukawa, her personal savior arrives with three bottles of what looks like the good stuff, takes a look at Yuuri and proceeds to practically drag him up by the ear and scold him for not letting her know he was here.
“And what’s with the frumpy sweater,” she asks, poking him in the stomach. “Four years, and you still don’t know how to dress.”
“I was on a plane for a long time,” Yuuri defends. “I haven’t really unpacked anything.”
“It’s summer, Yuuri. Unless,” she squints at his stomach and then, faster than any of them can comprehend, grabs the hem of Yuuri’s sweater and yanks it up before Yuuri can stop her.
“Minako!” Yuuri screeches at a decibel that makes Makkachin and Vicchan stand to attention, and tries to shove his sweater down with little success. Geneviève knows exactly how deceptively strong Minako is. She once saw her arm wrestle a sailor for a tumbler of whiskey and win.
Minako pokes him in the stomach, and pinches the softness of his stomach above his stretch marks.
“I suppose that’s not too bad.”
“I want to die,” Yuuri says, face a very interesting shade of red as he continues trying to push his sweater down.
Geneviève looks over at Vitya curiously and tries not to grin smugly when she catches him eyeing the line of Yuuri’s hips, blushing just a little across the bridge of his nose.
“Let’s see in what horrible condition those Americans have left you,” Minako says and drops Yuuri’s sweater. Yuuri takes advantage of this small reprieve to back up as much as he can, holding his hands up to fend off Minako.
“Can’t I do this tomorrow in your studio when I’m not jetlagged?” he asks, a little desperately.
Minako narrows her eyes at him.
“I’m nowhere near drunk enough to do a ballet demonstration in front of so many people,” Yuuri reasons.
Minako nods. “That’s fair,” she says, and passes him one of the bottles she brought.
Yuuri looks down at it incredulously, then looks over at their table, seems to remember what just transpired, and grips the bottle between his thighs, pops off the cork with his hand and starts chugging it down.
Vitya’s eyebrows climb all the way to his hairline, but he seems to be paying closer attention that he was before. Minako just looks proud of herself and dares to send Geneviève a conspiratory wink when Yuuri isn’t watching. Victoria pulls her a little closer.
Geneviève grins. This is going to be a great night.
“Look at that form! That elegance!” Yuuri gushes. “A true athlete if I ever saw one. What a demonstration of showmanship!”
Vicchan walks in a circle around Yuuri on his hind paws, following Yuuri’s hand and the piece of meat Yuuri stole for this purpose.
Geneviève can’t believe she found an actual angel to marry her son, but then again she should have expected no less than this from Hiroko “The Most Beautiful Woman in Town” Katsuki’s child. Her future grandchildren are going to have the entire world wrapped around their little fingers and she can’t wait to witness it.
“And now Vicchan is going to show us his signature move, please be quiet he has practiced this very hard for all his life,” Yuuri says, very seriously, and then guides his dog through spinning on himself four times before he cheers and gives him the piece of meat he has been baiting him with. “Wow! Amazing! A quadruple flip! No one has ever attempted this before in the history of figure skating! And so pretty too, what a good boy Vicchan, take your bows.” Yuuri bows to them, bending at the waist neatly. Vicchan lowers his head down the floor, butt wiggling up in the air in excitement as he copies Yuuri.
Their table applauds, and when Geneviève checks, Vitya looks delighted with everything that just happened in front of them.
She tries to get Victoria’s attention, pointing at their son, but Victoria is too busy drunkenly cuddling her and making small talk with Minako and Toshiya which seems to be escalating into a bet of which of them can do a headstand on top of a table. Geneviève makes a mental note to stop that before happening, because the last time she let it happen, Victoria sprained her wrist which wasn’t fun for either of them.
For now, she exchanges pleased smiles with Hiroko and watches Yuuri sit back down, cooing at his dog and looking at Vitya like he’s the whole sun.
Toshiya and Minako are having a dance-off to the absolute delight of everyone in the room. Geneviève is teaching Hiroko how to focus her phone’s camera by tapping on it while she’s recording and Victoria has slipped a hand under her shirt and spread her fingers on her stomach, which means it’s almost time to drag her off to bed.
Yuuri has relocated from across the table from Vitya to sitting by his side, and generally being very drunk. He has called Vitya pretty about four times and counting, outside of complimenting his skating. Geneviève is keeping a close eye on that, trying to see if the attention and praise are making Vitya uncomfortable. By the light flush Vitya has been sporting since Yuuri slumped on his shoulder and started calling him pretty, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes, Geneviève is inclined to believe that Vitya isn’t minding the attention one bit.
Right now Yuuri is babbling about how he wants to be good so he can skate with Vitya in a mix of English and Japanese that are a bit confusing and have Vitya’s brows furrowed trying to understand.
Geneviève feels she should also mention they have their respective dogs asleep on their lap and she has a new phone background and so does Hiroko because their boys are too precious to pass up the opportunity of a covert photoshoot.
“We could skate together in the rink tomorrow,” Vitya offers.
“That’s nice,” Yuuri says, absentmindedly. He’s been speaking to Vitya with a certain dreamy quality to his voice. It is very cute. “I want to skate against you too, yes?”
“Yes,” Vitya says readily.
“I want to, ah, what’s- what’s the word? Hmm… I want to… destroy you. Gently.”
Geneviève can’t see what sort of face Yuuri is making, but Victor’s face goes uncharacteristically red, eyes wide.
“Oh,” he chokes out.
Geneviève almost laughs. She’ll take a yes on that power top question then.
“I know! Dance off!” Yuuri says, clumsy getting to his feet and then making upset noises when Vicchan slips off his lap with a whine.
It says a lot that it isn’t very hard to make Vitya gently push Makkachin off his lap and join Yuuri in the space cleared by Toshiya and Minako in the middle of the room.
Geneviève clicks record on her phone and gleefully watches them go from a dance off to twirling each other around, until her wife slips her fingers under the front wire of her bra and puts her lips on her neck and then she decides it’s time to retire and leaves the boys in Hiroko’s good hands.
“Waiting for someone?” Geneviève asks, sipping her tea the next day at breakfast.
“No,” Vitya lies, pretending his head doesn’t snap up every time he hears someone enter the dining room.
“Okay,” she says, taking another sip and watching him squirm.
“Where’s Mamochka?” he asks, taking a bite of his breakfast and offering Makkachin a piece. Geneviève would scold him for spoiling his dog but he got that from her, so.
“Resting. Your mamochka got a bit of a hangover from last night, so I’m letting her sleep in.”
“Oh,” he says, glancing up when someone else enters the room and looking disappointed when it’s not Yuuri.
Geneviève takes pity on him. “Could you run an errand for me, sweetheart?”
“Of course, Mama.”
“Yuuri is at Ice Castle, would you mind going over and telling him we’re all going to have lunch together at midday?”
Vitya gives her the sweetest smile. “Okay, Mama.”
It’s almost comical how fast he finishes his breakfast before heading off.
Geneviève smiles into her tea.
They end up having to go get Vitya and Yuuri from Ice Castle, since they seem to have both forgotten their phones and midday has come and gone and they’re still not back.
Predictably they’re on the ice, running through a program Geneviève knows for a fact isn’t Vitya’s since she knows every single one of Vitya’s programs by heart.
They work side by side in almost perfect sync. It’s beautiful to watch Vitya enjoy himself on the ice again, being playful with it.
“Is it just me, or is our son flirting by critiquing Yuuri’s skating?” Victoria asks, after they’ve watched for a while as they skate around each other, stop, then one of them does a neat little step sequence or jump and the other will either nod and they’ll try it together, or shake their head and offer something else. They’re creating a program together, Geneviève realizes.
“Well….” Geneviève says, watching them. “It’s working.”
Victoria sighs very long and drawn out, almost wearily. “Okay, you can say it,” she says, resting her head on Geneviève’s shoulder and not taking her eyes from the boys on the ice.
Geneviève grins, tips her wife’s head up and whispers in her ear, gleefully. “I told you so.”
The rest of the week passes by too fast, as it usually does when you’re in very good company and enjoying yourself with family and close friends.
Geneviève is so happy she got back into contact with Hiroko and Minako and got to meet Toshiya as Hiroko’s husband, and their two children. There’s something about Hasetsu, and about Yu-topia, that feels cleansing, almost. It’s the mix of the calm hot springs, and hearty home-cooked meals, the ocean you can hear from the inn, and the sounds of people calmly going about their days mingling with the nature sounds if you sit close enough to one of the windows.
She feels rejuvenated, and she hopes to God that everything between her Vitya and Hiroko’s Yuuri goes well, even if all that happens is a friendship, so she can come back here every now and then to center herself.
She’s happy to spend some actual time with her wife just relaxing and being lazy, and she has a new line planned for next year centered around bigger women after Hiroko off-handedly praised Geneviève’s cute bra and complained how hard it was to find cute things for someone her size.
If Geneviève Nikiforova can make an all-male line of lingerie and have it be a hit, she can do this as well.
Hiroko is talking with Yuuri in hushed tones, piling up food and snacks in his arms to take on the airplane trip back while Yuuri just stands there looking a little sad and very fond. He already said goodbye to his sister – Mari had put him in a headlock and rubbed her knuckles over his hair while she told him to better take care of himself – and his father, who patted him on the shoulder and told him to keep doing them proud.
Geneviève and her family already said goodbye to the Katsukis and are waiting at the door for Yuuri.
“Wait,” Geneviève says. “Where’s Vicchan’s carrier?”
“Oh dear,” Hiroko says, looking around. “I think it’s still in storage. I’ll get it.”
Yuuri tilts his head at her like a puppy. “What do we need his carrier for?”
“You can’t bring him to Detroit on your lap, now, can you?” Geneviève reasons, looking over their bags. She got too many souvenirs and will probably need to pay extra for the bags but oh well. Needs must.
“What?” Yuuri says, voice wobbly. “I can’t- I can’t take him with me. There’s the quarantine period and the apartment, and coach Celestino wouldn’t-“
Geneviève waves her hand dismissively. “I already took care of everything. I know a guy who knows a guy. How do you think Vitya gets to bring Makkachin everywhere with no waiting period? Don’t worry about a thing, yes?”
“I- I can’t-“
“Aw sweetie, it’s fine. You deserve to at least have your dog around. A Victor for good luck!”
Yuuri’s face goes blotchy red.
“We can have a playdate at Sochi,” Vitya says, scratching Makkachin behind the ears. There’s something very soft hidden in the crinkles of the corner of his eyes as he smiles.
“If it helps, see it as a favour I’m doing your mother. She was the one who suggested it after all.”
Hiroko comes back with the dog carrier and as soon as she’s close enough Yuuri wraps her up in a hug.
Victoria wraps her arm around her waist and kisses her on the cheek, and Geneviève beams.
They have to board different planes, and after saying goodbye to Yuuri, Geneviève gives Vitya some privacy to do the same. And by that she means she tries to peep on them only to have her ear pulled by her wife and get a disapproving look.
“Vivi, what did we say about meddling, hm?”
“Meddling seems to work just fine.”
“Once shouldn’t be taken as example, love,” Victoria says, somewhere between amused and disapproving.
“It was at least three times,” Geneviève defends.
“Uh-uh,” Victoria hums. “You’ve done enough for Vitya already, let him figure out his own life. It’s more than time for that.”
Geneviève wouldn’t say she pouts, but she does a little bit. “You’re a hypocrite, sunshine. Don’t think I don’t know how often you call Yakov to ask about Vitya.”
“That’s different,” Victoria insists, like she’s been doing since Vitya started studying under Yakov and they had their precious boy away from them for long periods of time with all the traveling for business and Vitya’s unforgiving training regimen.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, love.”
Vitya comes back then with a goofy smile that is so far removed from his press one that Geneviève feels compelled to try to hug him and pick him off his feet like she used to do when he was little.
“So,” she says, dragging on the o suggestively and raising her eyebrows.
Geneviève raises her eyebrows harder. Victoria laughs at her.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, Mama. Just because Yuuri is cute and charming and his eyes are pretty and his step sequence could bring a grown man to tears and he has an adorable dog and he’s beautiful and he can probably bench press me easily and… what was I saying?”
Geneviève grins. Mission: get Vitya a boy to make him smile and possibly marry him is a resounding success. She’s going to be smug about this for the rest of her life.
“Something about Yuuri and how I was wrong about introducing the two of you?”
“Right,” Vitya says. “He’s nice. And my friend, which is nice. It’s nice having friends.”
Geneviève hums, amused and pats her son on the cheek. “Whatever you say, sweetie,” she says and drops it, restraining herself to smiling smugly and elbowing her wife during their flight to point out how Vitya is smiling at his phone, messaging app open and “Yuuuuuuuri~” neatly written at the top.
By World’s, Vitya announces his retirement, his fifth consecutive gold medal neatly splayed on his chest. The skating world is heartbroken up until the moment Katsuki Yuuri, bronze medal winner steps on the ice for his exhibition, doing Vitya’s Free Skate and Vitya joins him.
Out of everyone in the stands, Geneviève cheers the loudest.