Victor’s apartment was on the top floor, which was exactly what Yuuri would have expected of someone like him. Although the sky outside had been overcast ever since Yuuri had got off his plane, it still seemed well lit, with its large windows and white walls. It was also somewhat smaller than Yuuri had expected, but that was probably because he’d always associated fame with mansions, or particularly fancy lofts. Which it was – fancy, that is – but in a rather more eccentric way, just like Victor himself was. Sometimes. In a way.
Yuuri's moving in was a complicated process.
Feat. mason jars, Yurio cooking, Victor not cooking, Phichit's black market deals, old clothes swapping, and suspiciously vague descriptions of Saint Petersburg.
- Part 1 of #golubtsy
Victor stared at him, keeping the spoon steady in his hand. It reminded him, unexpectedly, of his grandparents, who, although they almost always cooked together, still insisted on letting one taste what the other was making on some particular occasion. For the first time in several weeks, Victor thought again: Wow, I’m really going to get married.
Or. The miraculous process of Victor learning how to cook, in short installments.
Feat. comfortable clothes, Victor very much cooking, Yurio cooking, Yuuri cooking, Yuuri's mom helping with the cooking, Chris being a cooking muse and advisor, various people (but mostly Yuuri) trying out the results of the cooking, and suspiciously vague and artistic descriptions of ice skating.
- Part 2 of #golubtsy