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How to stay married (hint: use flowers and admit you're wrong)

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“Yuuri won’t talk to me,” Victor grumbled. Yakov rolled his eyes but his student suddenly burst out: “I don’t understand why he’s making a big deal about it. It was all in the past. It doesn’t have anything to do with me, now. Why can’t he accept that?”

“This isn’t you leaving food uncovered in the microwave, is it,” Yakov rubbed his forehead, resigned to being involved.

“No – what?” Victor scrunched his cheeks. “Focus, Yakov, my life is ending. Yuuri’s being unreasonable about knowing every single person I’ve ever been with.” The skater threw his hands up. “I mean, what does that even matter? Yuuri is Yuuri. Yuuri is everything.”

Somehow, that still wasn’t what Yakov was expecting. “That’s not unreasonable. Lilia and I have had arguments over similar things. You had a past before Yuuri, it’s natural that he would want to know about it. Don’t avoid these things, Victor, you’re not in the right, here. You should fix it before it gets worse.”

“Well, what did you do to fix it?”

His own failed marriage was the last thing he wanted his somewhat-son to emulate. As a young man, he had sometimes stood as Victor did now, too proud to admit there had been times his standards weren’t high and he had gotten into trouble for failing to think things through.

He could somewhat understand though, how difficult it was to discuss extremely personal matters and how tempting it was to pretend life began at the start of a new relationship. “Vitya,” He put enough force to make Victor stop his ranting and stare. “Vitya, do remember that Lilia and I are divorced. So, whatever ideas you’ve got in your head, try to remember that future is always possible.”

Victor went pale. As fast as humanly possible, he stumbled into his shoes and ran out the door.


That evening, Yuuri was heading back home after a full day of off-ice activities.

He hasn’t seen Victor since last night when he opted to sleep on the couch. He also hasn’t heard from his husband, which was a bit more unusual. Usually, Victor would be blowing his messages up for three or four hours by now, no matter how angry they were at each other.

He must really have screwed up. Yuuri sighed but he was too hurt to feel sorry. He knew Victor wasn’t obligated to tell him all the details of his romantic history and it frustrated the other man that he wasn’t able to let it go.


Victor could stand to be more understanding. He was Yuuri’s first, after all. Yuuri couldn’t even be the bigger person here and volunteer his past because he had none.

Just thinking about the whole thing irritated him.

All he’d asked was how many had gone before him. Sure, he’d wanted to know more. He wanted to know who was Victor’s first, how they’d met, what he’d learned, and was it the same person giving and receiving?

Lost in thought, Yuuri almost ran into the dump truck backing into his apartment building.

his apartment!

Yuuri scrambled back. There was a dump truck in front of his building! It was filled with -

As he watched, the truck raised its open-box bed to the height of their balcony.

Our balcony doors are wide open, Yuuri absently noted.

The truck tipped its entire load into their balcony. Flower blossoms whipped into the streets and over Yuuri’s head, but the majority of the flowers went straight into their home.

Stunned speechless, Yuuri did the first thing he could think of.

“Moshi moshi, Yuuri!” Tiny Phichit waved at him from Thailand.

“Phichit, you won’t believe what’s happening as we speak.”


This wasn’t the most ridiculous thing Phichit had ever seen - his sister Facetiming him during birth still took the cake - but it was pretty up there. Phichit was beside himself with glee.

Yuuri’s apartment! Invaded! By flowers!

And the first thing Yuuri did? Called him so he could watch it in action.

He had the bestest friend ever.

Right now, Yuuri was running up the stairs and down the hallway and watching the scenery was making him a bit ill.

“Victor!” Yuuri screeched as he threw open the front door.

The apartment was kind of upside down and lopsided. Phichit locked his screen orientation and flipped his phone around in time to watch Victor excitedly try to crawl ontop of four feet of flowers.

“Surprise, Yuuri!”

“Oh, my god, Victor, they’re everywhere!” Yuuri was getting a bit too wound up. The apartment wobbled wildly, but Phichit held on.

The entire apartment was covered in flowers. Counters, tables, the couch, gravity had tipped the mountain on the balcony onto every surface and the wind had done the rest, sending velvet petals swirling upwards toward the high-vaulted ceiling. Flowers that lost their breeze fell to the ground like gentle rain.

Steady beeping signaled the approach of yet another dump truck.

Within minutes, even the bedroom was buried under bright, sweet-scented petals.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, listen to me,” Victor babbled, slip-sliding over the blossoms, a sheaf of papers clutched in his right hand. “Yuuri, I was talking to Yakov and I realized that for some reason, even now, you don’t know how much I love you and how important you are to me, and I can’t let that stand.”

“Victor,” Yuuri tried to interrupt.

“I wrote you an essay!” Victor shouted eagerly, presenting the pages.

Yuuri took them automatically.

“It’s thirty pages long and it’s a treatise I call On my soul, Yuuri.”

Phichit muffled a squeal/snort.

Yuuri stuttered. His brain, or maybe his sanity, had obviously given up.

But Victor didn’t seem to notice. “Yuuri.” He suddenly sounded serious. “I know I say these things all the time and maybe you don’t believe me anymore, but I only have so many words to give you.”

A pregnant pause.

“So. Yuuri, will you marry me?”

Phichit hurled himself at his pillow and shook with laughter.

“Victor,” Yuuri started, delicately. “Victor, we’re already married.”

Dumbass, was implied.

“Oh no, no no no. Don’t pout, Vitya!”

“But I’ve never proposed to anyone before,” Victor grumbled. “I’m already on my knees, here, Yuuri.”

The screen went dark and clattered. Yuuri must have dropped the phone.

“Yes, Victor. Of course it’s yes.”

Victor whooped. There were sounds of a scuffle.

“Wait, Victor, what are you doing with the tie? Victor, Phichit’s still on the phone!”

Victor’s face appeared on the screen. “Privet, Phichit!” He angled the phone towards a blindfolded Yuuri. “We’re engaged again! So I’m going to steal my sleeping beauty away for a bit.”

Yuuri jerked. “Where are we going?”

“I made an overnight reservation at the Belmond Grand.” Victor whispered and waved. “Bye bye, Phichit!”

“Congratulations!” Phichit managed with a straight face. “Bye bye!”


Victor insisted on carrying Yuuri over the threshold.

"Okay, Yuuri, you can take the blindfold off."

Yuuri made appropriate sounds of appreciation over the room’s grandeur. It had been an expensive last-minute booking. Victor was pretty sure this was once instance he owed entirely to his reputation.

But it was worth it.

Three walls were floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the night lights of St. Petersburg. The bed was large enough for six people and Victor grew warm thinking of all the sex they could have on it.

He walked them over and set Yuuri down ontop of the covers. His husband was already paging through the essay.

“Ano, Victor, the last five pages are all about kinks you’ve never tried.” Yuuri said laughingly.

“They’re good reasons why you shouldn’t leave me.” Victor said defensively.

Yuuri put the essay down and patted the space next to him. “Victor, come here. What’s going through your head? So we had a fight. You didn’t need to do all this, you know. If talking about all your other girlfriends and boyfriends is that big of a deal, I’ll try to let it go.”

As it did every time Yuuri brought it up, Victor felt his cheeks heat with shame. But he’s tired. It’s beena hectic day. And he doesn’t want to be Yakov…

“There hasn’t been anyone else.” He quietly admitted.

“I don’t want to fight, Victor.”

“I’m not!” Victor ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You expect the same thing as everyone else. You’re the only person I’ve been with. You’re the only real relationship I’ve ever had. It’s. It’s embarrasing. That I don’t know as much as people think I do, as much as you think I do.” He waved half-heartedly at the essay. “Like that stuff. I’d. I’d like to try that stuff with you.”

Yuuri’s eyes strayed towards the last few pages. His cheeks colored.

He cleared his throat. “So,” he said casually, his voice deeper than normal. He reached for Victor’s hand. “I want to thank you for being honest with me. But to tell you the truth….”

Victor smirked. “You think it’s pretty hot.” He straddled Yuuri’s lap.

“Yeah.” Yuuri grinned, eyes dark. “So, you wanna try some of this stuff?” He looked at his lap with practiced disinterest. “I mean, if you’re in the mood or something.”