Victor hears the snap of pencil lead from the kitchen, swiftly followed by a timid “Victor…?”
Now, Victor knows Yuuri has been brainstorming on a new skating routine all morning, but something about the way Yuuri lilts this particular inquiry has him immediately on edge. It’s what compels him swallow before he answers back with some perceivable hesitance, “Yes, love?”
Silence is all that’s returned to him, so slowly—cautiously—he crosses the apartment to find Yuuri looking particularly distraught, worrying his lower lip like he usually does when he’s cornered into giving an impromptu interview after a less-than-stellar program.
“Yes, love?” Victor repeats, exceedingly careful with the weight of those words.
Yuuri glances up from his scrawled notes briefly only to stare back down at them twice as hard, blush spreading across his cheeks like a brushfire. “Have we…?” Yuuri starts. Stops. He does that a lot: starts a thought, then doesn’t finish it.
Victor has learned to be patient.
“Have we…” Yuuri stops. Powers through. “… ever been on a date?”
“Of course,” he answers automatically. Pauses. Reconsiders. Then— “Of course we have… right?”
“That’s the thing. I’m not sure.” Yuuri bats the eraser of his pencil against his cheek, ticking it back and forth like a pendulum. “I know that we’ve… We’ve obviously been in date-like scenarios…”
“We’re engaged, Yuuri.”
“I know!” Yuuri swerves to meet the other’s eyes properly, suddenly ardent. “I know, which is why it’s so weird that we’ve never been on a date! Or… at least… I’ve never asked you on a date and you’ve never asked me on a date.”
Victor pouts. “What about all those times I begged you to sleep with me?”
“Those don’t count. Those weren’t dates. That wasn’t asking me out. That was… Well, honestly, I’m still not sure what that was.”
“Seduction,” Victor provides with a flourish, flashing his best press smile. The “pfft, yeah right” from under Yuuri’s breath goes expertly ignored.
“But seriously, Victor,” Yuuri continues, adamant. “I don’t think… I honestly think we’ve never actually been on a date.”
The statement hangs in the air.
Yuuri squirms in his seat, increasingly uncomfortable—and more so when a lazy smile spreads across Victor’s face.
“Why not start now?”
Yuuri drops his pencil. It rolls with a satisfying rattle before promptly dropping onto the hardwood with a thwack.
Victor sinks to one knee, sweeping a hand before him with all the grace of a seasoned Shakespearean actor. “Yuuri Katsuki, soon-to-be Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov—“
Yuuri can’t repress a near-hysterical giggle. He’s weak for “Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov”—weakest in the best of ways—and Victor takes full advantage of it every chance he gets.
“—light of my life, my whole heart, my better half, sexiest man alive—“
“Okay, you’re laying it on a bit thick—“
“Ahem. As I was saying—“ Victor near-growls, gesturing his extended hand with feeling as though it’ll help him get back into character. “—katsudon fatale, eros to my agape, Japan’s top figure skater and number one figure skater of my heart—“
“Will you ever run out?”
“—very rude man who cannot apparently take a single compliment about himself without interrupting—“
“Okay, okay, I get it! Please continue.”
Victor huffs a snuffed-out laugh under his breath, the only acknowledgment of his small victory. “—my favorite person on earth, my beloved Yuuri… Will you please do me the honor of allowing me to take you on a first date?”
Yuuri finally takes his hand, lacing his fingers around Victor’s. He’s very soft about it, and Victor supposes whatever his response will be has to be somewhere in the neighborhood of just as soft.
He supposes wrong.
“You did it wrong,” Yuuri says callously, rolling his eyes in a way that Victor immediately recognizes as coquettish in nature. “You're supposed to come to my house and ask for my parents’ blessing like in the movies. Maybe throw rocks at my bedroom window until I answer and ask me to a school dance.”
Victor catches on and—not one to be upstaged—plays along in a befitting manner. “Oh…? Is that how schoolboy Yuuri imagined me in his fantasies when he should have been studying in class?”
The reaction is immediate, color rushing to his face in a flurry. But is it from shame or something else entirely? “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Yuuri disputes half-heartedly, though the game is decidedly won. “That’s no way to treat your date, you know…”
“Our date hasn’t even started,” Victor counters, leading Yuuri’s hand forward to press a kiss into the inside of his wrist. “Let me walk you through it: First, I’m going to dress up for you—really go all out. I’ll dress you up too. I’ll give you the prettiest flowers and take you to a restaurant so extravagant, it’s bordering on the obscene. I’ll spoil you all evening—“ He leans forward, brushing the edge of Yuuri’s ear with his lips. “—and then all night, if you’ll let me.”
Yuuri gasps, growing ever rosier, but narrows his eyes like an apex predator about to pounce. “And what if I don’t put out on the first date? What kind of man do you take me for, Mr. Nikiforov?”
Victor chuckles, low and dark, and the reverberation of it through their points of contact draws an involuntary shudder from the other. “I may surprise you, Mr. Katsuki. I can be quite persuasive.”
“I should hope so,” Yuuri says, breathless. “I wouldn’t want to be disappointed.”
Victor’s hot breath tumbles across his neck in waves. “Oh, trust me. I’m sure I can leave you quite satisfied.”
“I’d rather you not leave me at all.”
Victor can’t be expected to help himself anymore, laving the skin beneath Yuuri’s ear and drawing out a delightful shiver, Yuuri’s pulse alight with tension just beneath the surface. “Before the first date? And here you were reprimanding me for being hasty…”
Unfair. Let it be known that Yuuri Katsuki does not play fair.
But, on occasion, Victor has been known to be far worse.
Victor grasps Yuuri by both shoulders, using him as leverage to lift himself up from his previous kneeling position. “Well then,” Victor says blithely, relishing in the disorientated look his fiancé is gracing him with. “I suppose I should get ready for my date, hmm?”
And then he leaves.
“Can’t hear you, Yuuri. Getting ready for my date.”
“Come back here and finish what you started!”
An exaggerated gasp. “But Yuuri! What would my date say?”
“He’d say you better do it before I come in there and take what I want from you.”
Shuffling behind the closed bedroom door. “Oh, Yuuri! You absolute brute! The audacity! My lovely date would never be so uncouth!”
Yuuri rises from his chair. “Oh, wouldn’t he now?”
“Of course not! My Yuuri is the perfect gentleman!”
Turning of the doorknob. “Vitya, I swear—wait, where—? Aah—!”
Victor springs forward from his perch behind the door, assaulting his fiancé with a pillow to the back of the head. It stuns him just long enough to allow Victor to tackle him down onto the bed, both falling into a heap of limbs and giggles.
“Victor Nikiforov, you are such a child!”
“Mmm… Maybe so,” Victor concedes, rubbing his head against Yuuri’s temple. “But I’m also your date.”
“Yeah…” Yuuri gazes up at him in that terribly fond way that makes Victor swallow thickly every time, already bemoaning the day he’ll make a mess of himself when he and Yuuri give their vows. “Yeah, you are.”