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Love And Other Recipes

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The video is a shot of two poodles chasing each other back and forth across the camera. Every now and then a pair of legs chase them too, but mainly it’s just the poodles playing, one standard and one toy. Text across the top of the screen says “Katsu’s Kitchen live stream will start soon!”

 

Then the shot changes to an immaculate kitchen, all modern fixtures and clean surfaces, with an asian man standing behind a counter and smiling nervously at the camera.

 

“Hi everyone, and welcome to Katsu’s Kitchen,” the man says, giving a little wave to the camera. “So, um, if you haven’t been here for a live streaming since I started showing my face, well… surprise? After the dance routine I thought I may as well show my face during live streams at least… and I’m Yuuri by the way, seeing as we’re getting everything out in the open.”

 

Yuuri rearranges some of the ingredients he’s got laid out nervously, before looking back up at the camera.

 

“So, as my regular viewers will probably know,” he says, folding his hands together on the counter as though to stop himself fidgeting, “this is not my usual kitchen. But I’m visiting the boyfriend this week so we’re in his rather lovely kitchen today. Obviously I had to do a big shop on arrival as Victor lives like the drama queen he is and mostly orders out.”

 

“Hey!” a voice says, and moments later a taller, very attractive silver haired man wanders into view and flicks Yuuri on the nose affectionately. “I only apply as much drama as is necessary at any given time or place.”

 

“Mhmm, sure,” Yuuri says, smirking like he knows this is utter bullshit, before turning back to the camera. “And this is the boyfriend. Vitya, say hello to the good people of YouTube.”

 

“Hello!” Victor chirps, giving the camera a smile so pretty that there are several comments that say something about viewers being struck down in their prime.

 

“Right, so,” Yuuri says after a moment, pulling himself back from where he’d been gazing fondly at Victor to arrange the ingredients again. “Today we’re making something Russian as we’re in Russia, so it’s only right.”

 

“You know we don’t have to cook something for you to have Russian for dinner, Yuuri,” Victor says, plucking a grape from the bunch in the fruit bowl and popping it in his mouth with a wink.

 

Yuuri turns instantly bright red and smacks Victor on the arm.

 

“Hey!” Victor whines, pouting at his boyfriend.

 

Yuuri ignores this and turns back to the camera looking intently unamused.

 

“Apologies for Vitya, he is incapable of not making an innuendo when one arises. I think it’s Christophe Giocometti’s influence. Anyway, we’ll be having piroshki today, followers, from a recipe I learnt from Vitya’s previous rinkmate and skating protege, Yuri Plisetsky. Who continues to be a little bitch and won’t appear on camera!”

 

Yuuri says the last part with his voice raised as though speaking to someone off screen. A string of what sounds like curses in Russian are the reply he gets from a voice which sounds like it’s coming from the next room.

 

Yuuri looks amused, before he picks up an onion.

 

“So, let’s begin.”

 


 

It’s clear to anyone watching that Victor is more of a hindrance than a help in the kitchen, though Yuuri is unendingly patient, catching and fixing all his little mistakes so no disasters occur. He catches the jar of flour Victor knocks off the counter with cat-like reflexes and Victor splutters something about being very gay. Yuuri just arches an eyebrow at him and puts the flour back on the side.

 

“Do we have anymore questions, Vitya?” Yuuri asks, in a not so subtle attempt to draw Victor away from doing any further damage.

 

Victor dusts off his hands and picks up the tablet on the counter, scrolling through some of the questions they’ve received since he last looked.

 

“Why does the boyfriend look familiar? I was an olympic gold medalist twice, so, there’s that,” Victor says, shrugging.

 

“And a six time world champion in figure skating,” Yuuri points out, kneading a lump of dough. “And one of the biggest YouTubers there is.”

 

There’s streak of flour on his cheek which makes Victor go all soft when he looks at him.

 

“Yes, but not everyone’s into figure skating, muffin,” Victor points out, not bothering to tell Yuuri about the flour on his face but snapping a picture of him working instead. Yuuri looks up when the shutter goes off.

 

“What’re you doing?”

 

“Nothing,” Victor says innocently, hurrying to tuck his phone away and go back to looking at the tablet. “Ah, there’s a question here about me calling you muffin and what other nicknames we have. Personally I like rhubarb, pumpkin and solnyshko, which is Russian for little sun.”

 

“They’re mostly food related, as you can tell,” Yuuri says, currently a rather alarming shade of pink as he moves the dough into a bowl and covers it with clingfilm. “I call Victor Vitya, which is a sort of Russian nickname, they’re called diminutives and you use them to alter the names of people you’re close with. Victor has a few, there’s Vitya as I’ve mentioned, but also Vitka and Vityenka, which makes Vitya go very silly when I call him that.”

 

“Because it’s cute!” Victor says, pouncing on Yuuri and making him gasp as he almost drops the bowl he just picked up.

 

“Careful, Vityenka,” Yuuri says with a smirk, which makes Victor go a delicate shade of pink as he squirms. “Anyway now you want to proof your dough for one hour… sorry should’ve mentioned this may be a long stream, I’ll cut it down if I decide to upload it as a video to the channel. Anyway, whilst we wait for this to proof — as I said one hour if you have a proofing drawer, but two if you’re just doing it in a warm room — we’re going to make the filling.”

 


 

Victor seems to have lost interest in cooking as he’s mainly being a nuisance or reading questions off the tablet.

 

“We all know how you knew about each other online, but how did you meet in person?” Victor reads out and then smirks at the camera. “Well, dear viewers, now there’s a story. Sit tight and imagine a warm summer night in Tokyo.”

 

“Gah, just tell them we agreed to meet in Japan whilst you were doing an ice show there,” Yuuri says, blushing for the upteenth time since the stream started.

 

“Oh no, no, no,” Victor says, and pushes himself up to sit on the counter behind him, crossing his legs and grabbing a mug of tea he made earlier for the effect. “There I was, an unsuspecting gay just innocently awaiting my date in a bar, and in walks this man. Well of course I was struck dumb, slayed at such a young age.”

 

“Vityaaa…” Yuuri whines, looking immensely embarrassed.

 

“Hush,” Victor says gently. “Anyway Yuuri was a bit nervous, so he downed several glasses of champagne and dragged me, who was very willing, onto the dancefloor, and continued to give me a tango that left me breathless and utterly smitten.”

 

“Now it’s time for beef!” Yuuri cuts in, looking a little manic as he holds up a packet of beef mince in an attempt to distract from Victor’s story.

 

“He stripped to his underwear and we got chucked out of the bar.”

 

“I will sautee you like this onion.”

 


 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Yuuri is saying as he stirs the beef in a pan and fetches spices for it.

 

His toy poodle, Vicchan, just whines again from where he sits on a stool so he can see and holds a paw up, as though this trick will win him a treat.

 

“No, it’s not for little doggies, I’ve given you plenty,” Yuuri says, but he makes the mistake of looking at Vicchan and his face promptly crumbles. “Ah… fine. But this is the last bit you’re getting!”

 

He feeds Vicchan a bit of the mince and then bends to presumably give the larger poodle who is out of view a taste. Vicchan looks very pleased with his treat, but as soon as he’s done he whines again.

 

“No!” Yuuri says.

 

Vicchan just whines.

 

“Stop, no, I hate it when my baby cries. Think of your poor father’s heart!”

 

The viewers and Victor are delighted.

 


 

“And you fold the sides in, then press the edges together, like so.”

 

Yuuri is demonstrating how to make the piroshki parcels, each of his a perfect little package, whilst Victor attempts to do the same. His are all very wonky and he can’t make them as quickly as Yuuri can. Victor pouts and frowns at his creations.

 

“Yuuriiii…” he whines, throwing himself over Yuuri’s back. “Mine are all messy. Mother Russia is going to disown me.”

 

“Of course she’s not,” Yuuri says, reaching over to try and salvage Victor’s parcels. “You’re her favourite son, Mr Living Legend.”

 

Victor continues to pout for a moment, then seems to get distracted with nuzzling the back of Yuuri’s neck instead.

 

Lots of cooing and squealing occurs in the comments.

 

“When they’re ready,” Yuuri says, making a valiant effort to ignore the six foot of Russian man hanging off him, “you want to let them rise in a hundred degree oven for twenty minutes, or thirty to forty-five in a warm room. They should look nicely puffy when they’re done and then they can go in the oven to bake properly.”

 

“I miss when you were nicely puffy,” Victor says, poking at Yuuri’s flat stomach.

 

“But I built up muscle so I could do this.”

 

Yuuri lifts Victor and flings him over his shoulder, making the other man scream with glee and dissolve into a fit of giggles. Yuuri bounces around the central island counter with him once, making Victor cough and groan about feeling sick even amongst his laughter, before Yuuri deposits him on a counter. Victor sways for a moment as the blood rushes away from his head, and Yuuri holds his elbow until he looks like he’s steady. When he’s regained his balance, Victor beams at him with something like undying devotion in his expression.

 

The comments dissolve into incomprehensible key smashes.

 


 

“Do you cook for a living, Katsu?” Victor asks, reading from the tablet as Yuuri brushes egg yolk over the now puffy piroshkis.

 

“Oh I have actually answered this, but that’s okay, I don’t expect everyone’s seen everything so I don’t mind repeats,” Yuuri smiles warmly at the camera, his cheeks adorably round despite him having apparently lost weight. “I’m a dancer actually, I just really enjoy cooking too. That’s why Phichit was so keen for me to do a dance video, the swine.”

 

Most of his fans have figured that out for themselves once he showed his face, recognising him from some music videos. Victor, who listens mainly to 80s pop and mournfully beautiful french music, had no idea who the dancer known as Katsuki Yuuri was before seeing the pole video.

 

“Aw you can’t complain about the dance video,” Victor says, tugging on Yuuri’s sleeve as though he’s not really aware he’s doing it. “Pour It Up is why we got together.”

 

“True,” Yuuri concedes, and turns his head for a kiss.

 


 

“Oh they look so good,” Yuuri is saying as he takes the tray of perfectly golden piroshkis out of the oven. “They’ll be really hot at the moment, so don’t eat them just yet, let them cool. Someone can never wait until they cool and always burns his tongue.”

 

“Yes Yurio’s silly like that,” Victor says, plucking up a piroshki, only to promptly drop it with a hiss as his fingers get burnt.

 

Yuuri only rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh I got something good to go with them, muffin,” Victor says, and indicates a box that seems to have appeared from nowhere on the counter by the kettle behind them.

 

“Oh…” Yuuri says, looking mildly confused as he goes to the box and opens it.

 

There’s a beat in which Yuuri just stares at the contents of the box with wide eyes. Victor has shifted so he can watch him, fighting the grin that wants to break across his face.

 

Yuuri looks up at him then, mouth slightly open.

 

“Is this… does this mean…?” he says, breathless and pink cheeked.

 

The comments are a stream of question marks as Yuuri stares at his boyfriend.

 

“Yes,” Victor says, and allows the grin to break across his face. “Move in with me, Yuuri.”

 

“Oh my god!” Yuuri shrieks and flings himself at Victor.

 

What follows is Yuuri kissing Victor within an inch of his life up against the fridge. They stumble out of view after a moment and Victor’s delighted laughter can be heard off screen. After a few moments of this another voice shouts in an angry Russian accent for the two of them to get a goddamn room and stop scarring innocent teenage eyes.

 

The comments are going mad, people are sobbing, saying that their crops are watered and their skin is clear, one person claims they can die happy.

 

Yuuri and Victor reappear after a moment, Victor looking thoroughly mauled and both of them giddy and grinning. Yuuri retrieves the box from the floor and comes around the counter to show the camera what’s inside. A silver key sits on some gold tissue paper inside the black box, with a cute little muffin keyring attached.

 

“This is for Vitya’s apartment,” Yuuri says, sounding tearful and looking so happy he glows as he draws the box back. “We’ve been going back and forth between Russia and Japan and it was pretty exhausting to be honest, especially as we both have to travel a lot for work anyway.”

 

Victor comes and drapes himself over Yuuri’s shoulders and kisses the side of his head.

 

“Yuuri mentioned he would quite like living in Saint Petersburg so I thought it would be okay for the question to be live streamed,” Victor explains, attempting to nibble Yuuri’s ear as he ducks out of the way.

 

“So I guess this is the new Katsu’s Kitchen venue, followers,” Yuuri says, beaming at the camera so several of the comments squeal over how cute he is. “Thank you so much for watching today, now I have a needy Russian to attend to, so I’ll see you all next time on Katsu’s Kitchen.”

 

He grins and waves at the camera, Victor not bothering as he attempts to draw Yuuri back into making out with him, and then the stream cuts off.

 

Phichit texts Yuuri a stream of exclamation marks, and Chris congratulates them both once he’s watched the edited version of the video that goes up later on Yuuri’s page. And Victor and Yuuri can finally be in one place, sharing heart and home.