A heavy, musky scent wafts into Viktor’s nose from the black fringes that are tickling it. He buries his face deeper into the mass of ruffled hair, the feeling of warmth and security sinking deep into his being.
“Viktor… Too tight,” a familiar voice rises from the mass nestled firmly in his arms.
“Yuuri~…” Viktor breathes, groggily. The words fan out over the nape of Yuuri's neck, causing the fine hairs that are growing there to stand on end. Viktor feels the body in his grasp squirming to break free, and begrudgingly releases him.
“Hello, good morning.” Yuuri greets, now fully turned around, reaching out a hand to cup Viktor’s cheek, whose eyes then flutter gently open to see into his fiance’s chestnut stare. Viktor relishes in the fact that Yuuri's eyes are dilated and glazed from sleep, yet simultaneously filled with all kinds of affections.
They hold each other's gaze captive for a few sweet moments before Viktor leans in and plants a kiss against Yuuri’s soft lips. Yuuri reciprocates, their lips gliding over one another effortlessly and practiced before they tilt away, just far enough to break for air.
“VITYA, YUURI, HURRY UP AND GET DOWN HERE, WE ARE GOING TO HEAD TO THE RINK SOON.” Yakov bellows from the floor below. Viktor sighs.
“Our sweet mornings never last, do they?” he whines. Yuuri flicks his nose, then lightly presses his lips against it.
“There's always tomorrow morning.” Yuuri preens. Viktor can't help the smile that sneaks across his face, and as Yuuri moves to get up Viktor locks him into a strong hug, toppling them back down onto the bed.
“Ever the optimist.” Viktor says into the crook of Yuuri's neck, his breath ticklish and causing Yuuri to burst into uncontrolled laughter. Viktor swoops up this opportunity to flirt with his fiance, swiftly snaking his hands into Yuuri’s shirt, brushing against his sides gently so there’s not much friction.
“V-Viktor- S-top-- !!” Yuuri stammers between giggles, as Viktor’s sneaky hands find their way under Yuuri’s armpits. He brushes his lips against Yuuri’s clavicle, eliciting a shudder and audible gasp that cuts into his laughing.
Yuuri tries to use his hands to fend off his attacker, but Viktor grabs them both and pins them down to the bed. He stares upon the disoriented and disheveled mess he's made of his fiance, smirking affectionately while giving Yuuri a chance to catch his breath.
“You play dirty.” Yuuri gasps.
“No, Yuuri, I play to win.” Viktor chuckles. He bends down and kisses Yuuri's clavicle properly now, moving his kisses up his neck and across his jawline before gingerly peppering his face with them. Then, slowly, he finally settles on Yuuri’s mouth.
Yuuri parts his lips to allow for Victor’s tongue to slide through, gliding over the tops of his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Yuuri then flicks his own tongue forward unconsciously, thrusting past Viktor’s and into his mouth, causing him to let out a brief, low moan.
“VITYA, YUURI!” Yakov reminds them. Viktor tips his head back, and the disappointment on his face causes Yuuri to snicker.
“Looks like we are actually going to have to start being responsible.” Viktor pouts, sitting up. Yuuri takes this as an opportunity to slip into Viktor’s lap and close the gap between them once more.
“Don't worry, we can always pick up where we left off, later tonight.” Yuuri flirts amorously, letting his tone drop to a deep purr, gently nipping at the shell of Viktor’s ear before pulling away to look at him with hooded eyes.
“I can't believe you're the same boy who could only compare eros to katsudon before,” Viktor whispers back. “I'm a lucky man.”
“I'M the lucky one, Viktor Nikiforov, five time consecutive Grand Prix Gold Medalist.” Yuuri all but whispers playfully against Viktor’s ear, pressing his lips into his cheek.
“Alright, alright, enough of that before I lose my cool and Yakov does too.” Viktor laughs, gently nudging Yuuri off his lap and rising to his feet.
Yuuri lets out an overly exasperated sigh. “Fine, I guess I'll just have to wait.”
“You're torturing me,” Viktor teases back. He sifts through a drawer in his dresser, looking for a pair of underwear. “Huh, I could have sworn I had at least one other clean pair.”
“You know, this wouldn't happen if you'd just do the laundry like I ask.” Yuuri stalks up behind him, propping himself on his toes in order to rest his chin on Viktor’s shoulder and wrap his arms around Viktor’s chest.
“Yeah yeah,” Viktor rolls his eyes sarcastically. He pauses, looking down at what was clearly not underwear. “Huh, what's this?”
“What's what?” Yuuri asks.
Viktor slides a quaint, antique little box out from under the undergarments - which is basically all Yuuri’s, as Viktor never cleans his - shaking it a little. “It seems familiar but I can't quite remember why.”
“Open it.” Yuuri urges.
Viktor obliges, pulling the lid from the box and revealing its contents. He reaches in, pulling out one of many small, charming envelopes addressed to him.
“Wow, that's my handwriting!” Yuuri exclaims.
“Yeah, I remember these, they are from before you came here to Russia,” Viktor chuckles fondly. “To think after the finals we thought we could ever be apart for any measure of time.”
Back then they had their own things to take care of, both in their own countries. It had been about a month, an excruciating month, before they were back on to practice again for the next season's Grand Prix Final. During that month Yuuri wanted tangible contact with Viktor and suggested sending letters. It worked well for about a week and then that empty hole opened up inside his gut again.
‘I want to see you.’ Yuuri had written out. It seemed like a waste of postage to send it, but Yuuri couldn't possibly care about that, couldn't think of anything else to write. He could have called Viktor up online, even texting would have sufficed.
Days later, he was awoken by a buzzing. Light leaked out in a gentle stream from his phone, and with each vibration it moved more precariously to the edge of his bedside table. Eventually he picked it up, but now the light hadn't been so gentle, the white smile of Viktor’s contact picture seemingly making the light even brighter as if to blind him.
“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice was quiet and sincere from the other end.
“You didn't have to call, you'll have to pay more for long distance.” there was a soft chuckle on the other end, warm and inviting.
“How is everyone?” Yuuri blinked, thinking it over for a moment. The question was trivial, and the following conversation mundane, but in the end it was all Yuuri needed. The voice behind the words, the laughter that followed it. They spoke of his family, of how cold it was in Moscow, what mischief Makkachin had been up to that week. On the surface it was nothing different from the letters, but it made a world of difference for Yuuri’s heart. It became impossible after that for them to go long without a call, or text. It was his mother who finally said it.
“Yuuri, we love you, and love having you stay with us too, but just go live with him. We can manage just fine.” with just that, it was settled. It felt like years ago now, like another life where the two barely knew each other. The letters were always a private embarrassment to Yuuri, some sounding so lonely and destitute, closer to morning Viktor over just missing him for a few months, but he still kept each one.
They now flip through Viktor's hands, politely opening and caressing them one by one.
Viktor knows each with just a glance, having learned them all by heart. Some look more tattered than others, but each of them are worth more to him than anything else he owns. He pauses as he notices a brand new white letter, standing stark against the others. He turns to Yuuri, who is still smiling on his shoulder.
“What’s this.” Viktor questions. Yuuri’s smile broadens, nuzzling Viktor’s neck.
“I have no idea,” he denies, though Viktor can feel his excited grin. “Open it~”
“I have the strangest feeling you have every idea what this is.” Viktor cooes, pulling open the parchment.
“And so what if I do? I doubt you'll enjoy its contents any less.” Yuuri states, his breath warm and damp against Viktor’s ear.
“What's gotten into you?” Viktor chuckles, removing two laminated cards from inside. No, not cards, tickets.
“I just want my future husband to have a fun birthday.” Yuuri’s voice drops low and quiet, his hands finding their own agenda now by drawing circles into Viktor’s thighs.
“Tickets to the ballet?” Viktor says with mirth in his voice. His smile drops for a moment as he reads one of the tickets, turning to Yuuri. His voice is flirtatious, but his expression is touched. “This show is sold out until January.” Yuuri touches his index finger to the page. Viktor blinks, shaking his head.
“My goodness, they just so happen to be for Christmas,” Yuuri feigns a surprised gasp, “That’s your birthday, isn’t it?” much to Yuuri’s delight, the reaction he gains is that of Viktor's arms lifting him at the waist and kissing him full on. Yuuri lets out a small giggle of a gasp, wrapping his arms around his fiance’s neck, taking in his very expensive ‘Christmas-day-tickets-to-the-nutcracker’ kiss.
Yakov slams the door to their apartment open just as Yuuri’s shirt finds its way to the floor. “YOU BOTH HAVE 10 MINUTES TO GET DOWN HERE BEFORE I SEND YUURI BACK TO JAPAN.” From there it is really quite remarkable how quickly the two finished dressing, eating, and prepping for the day.
As was in their daily routine, the love birds come down to the locker room in a cloud of PDA. Today perhaps just a tad more adamant; teasing, nipping, and flirting as they went through a few stretches. Viktor is just in the process of holding Yuuri’s skate covers just out of reach in exchange for a kiss, - a kiss that there is no way Viktor will get via such underhanded methods - when Yakov shows up at the door, full of grumpy baritone and borscht.
“You two are teaching the orphanage class today, so please try to actually behave.” Yakov barks, before walking back through the locker room doors and out to the lobby. About fifteen minutes later he returns, but there are around twenty small girls, a few young boys, and a very worried nanny following behind him.
“Aaah, how cute!” Yuuri says softly under his breath. Viktor bumps his elbow gently into Yuuri’s shoulder, giving him a tender smile.
“Alright kids, these two will be showing you the basics of skating,” Yakov instructs. “First they will be getting you warmed up and situated with your own pairs of skates, then they will take you out onto the rink. If you have any other questions, they will be taking it from here.”
“That's right, we will be your teachers today!” Viktor declares enthusiastically, grabbing Yuuri’s far shoulder and pulling him in close.
“Alright boys, I'm headed off to teach my own students. I trust you CAN take it from here?” Yakov asks with a clap to Viktor’s shoulder.
“Of course, when have I ever let you down?” Viktor chuckles, but his voice trails off slowly as Yakov’s expression grows hard. “Yeah, don't answer that.” He returns the pat on the shoulder as Yakov walks past him.
“Smooth.” Yuuri jokes, slipping a finger through one of Viktor’s belt loops.
“Who here has been skating before?” Viktor says, ignoring the quip. Yuuri and few children raise gloved hands. One girl raises her hand with a little more force than the others, but Viktor seems not to notice, smiling his million dollar smile. “Good! We’re going to start out with stretches first,” Yuuri politely tugs on Viktor's sleeve, nodding towards the little one. “What's up?”
“I have to pee…” she says, dancing a little.
“Oh, okay,” Viktor says with a chuckle. “Who else has to use the bathroom?” he asks, and every kid raises their hand, causing his eyes to flutter open wide in surprise.
“We've been out walking in the cold for a long while.” the nanny apologizes.
“Oh, no, that's fine!” Viktor reassures, “Guess the first part of our lesson today is standing in line for the potty!”
Yuuri admires the playfulness in Viktor’s voice that causes the kids giggle, the way he is so good with them, with people in general, how his eyes light up in such a way that makes every kid in the room feel comfortable with him in an instant. He could swear he even feels every bit of tension in the room melt away. Well, all the tension except that of a single, stoney-faced, short child with long blond wisps falling into their face as they clung tightly to the nanny’s hand.
Yuuri watches the child as they walk, Viktor leading the group to the bathroom with a song. Yuuri guesses it is a nursery rhyme, or something that Viktor has made up on the spot; both are viable options. The blond little girl Yuuri would estimate to be five or six, and wore a glare too fierce for a child of this age. It wasn’t uncommon for the kids they taught to be a little shy, or even frightened of skating, Yuuri thinks, remembering what it was like starting out.
“Hey,” Yuuri approaches the nanny with a grin, before crouching down in front of the girl, “Are you excited to skate?” she slunk behind the nanny shyly, tugging her arm. “Ah, what a good girl she's being, not talking to strangers!” Yuuri’s smile drops as he notices the girl lunge forward.
“I'M A BOY!” he suddenly shouts, aggressively in Yuuri’s face.
“Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!” Yuuri stands up quickly, embarrassment and realization washing over him.
“Yuri, please! Be nice!” the nanny scolds.
“Yuri?!” Yuuri exclaims, “Hey, that's my name too!”
“WHAT?! That’s confusing! We don't need two Yuris!” the little boy spits.
“Oh, uh,” Yuuri stammers, “There's not much we can do about that, can we?” he slips up in his Russian, suddenly finding it hard to dig the right words out if his brain.
“Maybe you should just go away, then there wouldn't be two Yuris! Idiot!” Yuri hisses.
“Yuri Plisetsky! What have I told you about your manners!” the nanny scolds, bending down to look the small kid in the eyes.
“But I don't like him!” Yuri glances over at Yuuri, then back to the nanny. Even though it came from a young child, it still somehow stings in Yuuri’s chest.
“Yuri,” the nanny pinches his right ear and turns his head to look Yuuri in the eyes, “Apologize!”
“No.” Yuri shuts his eyes to avoid looking at him.
“Is there a problem?” Viktor asks, ruffling Yuuri’s hair in passing. The angry child hid further behind the nanny’s leg, glaring at Yuuri’s reinforcement.
“Ah, uh, nothing important.” Yuuri dismisses, switching to English as he is too stressed to remember the Russian translation. Viktor takes in the situation, and gives a warm smile.
“Yuuri, making children cry again I see,” he crouches down to the agitated child, “Don’t mind him too much, his Russian is pretty pathetic.” Yuuri exasperatedly nudges Viktor in the side with his elbow.
“I don't want to try skating anymore.” Yuri whines.
“It's… Too late for that now-” the nanny begins, but Viktor cuts her off by gasping over dramatically.
“You don't want to skate?” He drops his jaw, hands cupping his cheeks to emphasize surprise. Yuri shakes his head, and Viktor smiles and tilts his own head to the side. “That’s just fine. You can sit on the sidelines with Yuuri if you’d rather.” the child promptly reevaluated his choices, looking between the couple to decide which he trusts less - too young to see the manipulation, but just old enough to be suspicious of foul play.
“I will stay with Nanny, you two are creeps.” Viktor feels equally struck by the child’s tongue, but unlike his lover, he takes it into stride.
“Will that be okay with you?”
“I don't mind.” she sighs. Viktor leans down again, looking into the stubborn eyes.
“I’ll allow it if you, both, apologize.” he turns his smile to Yuuri, who feels no need to apologize as he has already done so, but he wasn't going to complain about it.
“I’m sorry.” he bows to the child, but little Yuri just glares back. A silence ensues, until at last in his smallest, most insincere voice, the child mumbled.
“Alright, that's settled!” Viktor’s face lights up, hands clapping together and feeling accomplished.
They stretch with the kids now, while waiting for them to all finish in the bathroom, showing them how to touch their toes or doing jumping jacks and the butterfly. The blond Yuri just pouts by the bathroom door. Once all the kids have taken care of their bladders and stretched their muscles, they all line up to be fitted with skates. Then, one by one, they step onto the ice, shaking like baby deer.
From there, the couple switch off from corralling the older kids and teaching the younger ones, until at last they all knew how to skate a straight line. Viktor steps off the ice to turn on some music, and Yuuri takes this moment to answer questions, and keep the kids upright.
One of the older kids, a boy of maybe twelve or thirteen - the age when sass is its ripest - raises his hand. Yuuri points to the boy wearing a smile, hoping this kid doesn’t use vocabulary he will have a hard time understanding.
“How do we know you're qualified to teach us these moves, when we haven't even seen you skate?” Yuuri takes a moment to translate the sentence in his head, then smiles at the boy. It takes Yuuri another moment, causing him to have a long pause, to formulate the Russian response before verbalizing it.
“Well, I used to compete, and before that I skated since I was your age.” he is in mid translation for some motivational spiel when Viktor glides to his side, wrapping his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, pop music playing upon his arrival.
“He’s only being modest! Yuuri’s a gold medalist, you know. That’s pretty qualifying if I say so myself.” Viktor beams. The younger children give an impressed gasp, the older ones not half so in awe by things they can’t see.
“Nuh uh, he’d be famous!”
“He is, though~ the famous Yuuri Katsuki!” Viktor laughs, then whispers quietly enough for just Yuuri to hear, “My Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuri feels his face flush, and nudges Viktor away.
“If that were true then he could do a spin or a jump!” the boy observes, looking rather smug at his discovery. Yuuri doesn’t have to look at Viktor to know the expression of anticipation he wore. Yuuri withheld his sigh, smiling instead.
“Well, I can't give you all a demonstration until you leave the rink!” Yuuri chirps, hoping the fun of skating outweighs watching some geezer do a trick.
“EVERYBODY MOVE OUT!” one boy squeals, grabbing two of the nearest girls by the hands and propelling them all forward. All the kids hurry to the edge of the rink, and stumble off while trying to sit down. Yuuri sighs, feeling as if he's somehow lost.
“That means you.” Yuuri shoves Viktor off the ice as well.
“Yeah yeah, I'm going, I'm going!” Viktor chuckles.
Once the threat of slicing someone's face open is no longer apparent, Yuuri takes to the center of the rink. He propels himself backwards a ways, gaining speed before shifting his body around into a simple Triple Axel. The children shriek, cheering and clapping as loud as they can.
“Again!” a girl yells.
“Yes, Yuuri, show us a Quad Flip!” Viktor winks, and Yuuri pretends he doesn't see or hear him, instead sliding to a sudden stop, clapping his hands together.
“Alright, now who wants to learn how to ice skate?” Yuuri asks. Viktor and all of the kids raise their hands cheering. Yuuri couldn’t help but notice a small blond head, though silent, watching him now, a look of determination in those large, green eyes.
“Did you see how talented Evangeline was already?” Viktor beams, having already learned all of the kids names, “And Alexei learns so fast!
“Mm.” Yuuri hums, not really concentrating on what's being said, instead paying more attention to looking through the spice cupboard.
Viktor subconsciously pulls the curry powder from the top shelf and hands it to Yuuri. “Oh, but Yuri never did get on the ice. Though I did see him watching you, maybe that's a start!”
“Hey, could you go grab the rice hun?” Yuuri asks as he chops meat into small cubes. Viktor walks over to the rice cooker and presses the button to pop the lid, delivering the rice with enthusiasm.
“I'm really impressed and excited for all this new talent!”
“Taste this for me,” Yuuri sticks a spice and soy sauce dipped finger towards Viktor, who licks it gently. “How’s that combination?”
“Wow, interesting!” Viktor taps his index finger on his chin, “But, maybe try adding a bit of salt.”
“You want me to add salt to everything!” Yuuri complains.
“Because salt makes everything better.” Viktor smirks, leaning in towards Yuuri teasingly. Yuuri uses both hands to push his face away.
“Get out, I'm trying to cook!” Yuuri laughs.
“I'm just giving my opinion like you asked!”
“Get out!” Yuuri shoves him off the kitchen tiles, Viktor trying to resist but his socked feet betraying him with little friction to be had. He secedes from the fight, ambling over to the dining room table. Yuuri adds a bit of salt to the spices anyway, and after concluding that Viktor had been right, he mixes the combination into a small bowl of soy sauce.
One by one he adds ingredients to the wok. He sears the meat and veggies just enough to brown them, tossing the rice and soy sauce over everything and flipping it in the pan a few times before covering the fried rice. He lets the rest steam, grabbing drinks from the fridge.
“Mm, smells good~” Viktor begs more than compliments as Yuuri appears by the table.
“And you can be patient just a little longer.” Yuuri says.
“Why must you make your almost husband suffer so?” Viktor is nothing short of dramatic.
“Because SOMEONE didn't set the table.” Yuuri observes, placing the water pitcher and red wine by the vase of fake flowers.
“Oh, but you do it so much better.” Viktor purrs, hand softly touching Yuuri's. He stops, seeing the expression Yuuri wore, and decides to set the table.
Yuuri walks back over to the countertop, making finishing touches to the rice, but decides to go extra slow as he notices Viktor eying him instead of being quick about his chore. Realizing what Yuuri is doing, Viktor rushes to finish and seat himself.
“Yuu~ri,” He calls affectionately from the table, “I got it done quickly, so please just put an end to my waiting.” He whines.
“Alright, alright.” Yuuri snickers, finishing hastily and walking their bowls over to the table. He sets down his own dish first, craftily whisking Viktor’s out of reach every time he tried to grab it, before leaning forward enough to place it down and press a soft kiss into Viktor’s lips.
“Itadakimasu,” Viktor claps wearing a playful grin. Yuuri reaches over to flick his ear, clicking his tongue but smiling warmly. Viktor is at last presented with food, shoveling in a grateful spoonful. Before Yuuri can even sit, Viktor is continuing his train of thought from before.
“They all looked so inspired by that triple axel,” Viktor observes. Yuuri digs into his meal, currently not wanting to talk about being peer pressured by twelve year olds. “I wonder if any of them will want to come back for a real lesson.” Viktor mused, tapping his lips with his index finger thoughtfully.
“I don't know.” Yuuri shrugs.
“I hope Yuri will skate next time.”
“Yeah, me too.” Yuuri sighs, taking a bite of rice from off his chop sticks.
“How do you do that?” Viktor asks with an ever so slight purr.
“Do what?” Yuuri snaps out of his previous absent minded state.
“Eat fried rice with chopsticks,” Viktor squints at the spectacle. “I can hardly eat sticky rice with chopsticks.” Yuuri has no idea why this is so amusing to him, he really doesn't. He doesn't know what's overcome him, but he starts laughing, really hard. His voice sends tremors through his frame, feeling like he will burst from lack of air.
“You're so…” Yuuri chokes.
“I'm so what?” Viktor asks, worriedly. The look on his face is priceless, making Yuuri laugh harder.
“You just went from food to ice skating to food again in less than a minute!” Yuuri coughs. Maybe it is the way Yuuri laughs, or maybe it’s the realization that what he is saying is true, but it starts Viktor into a brief bout of laughter as well. Yuuri comes to a panting halt, trying to regain composure.
“You'll have to show me how to use chopsticks, Japanese style someday.” Viktor teases.
“Want me to teach you right now?” Viktor nods, and Yuuri stands up to retrieve another pair. He returns to the table momentarily, handing the pair over.
“Alright, so you hold one of them like a pencil, right?” Viktor questions, mimicking a pencil grip on one of the chopsticks, then his eyes light up. He takes the other stick with his left hand in a pencil grip as well, and with a goofy grin he finagles a piece of meat between the two.
“Viktor,” Yuuri says incredulously. “You insult me.”
“I like to call it, ‘being creative’.” Viktor laughs.
“You asked for my help, what are you doing?” Yuuri reaches over to grab Viktor’s left hand for the chop stick. Viktor resists, trying to keep his hold on the utensil.
“No, no, honey. I've got this!” Viktor says, pulling his left hand into the air and out of Yuuri's reach. Yuuri wrestles Viktor until he coaxes the stick from his hand.
“Alright, enough,” Yuuri grabs Viktor’s right hand and places the chopsticks into it in the proper form. After about ten minutes of childish banter, Viktor finally manages to pick up his first grain of rice and Yuuri’s dinner has already gone cold.
“Say, Yuuri,” Viktor almost whispers, Yuuri only hearing it because he is standing with his chest against Viktor’s back, still cupping his right hand with his own from his previous attempts at helping his fiance scoop up rice. They both turn their heads to look each other in the eyes, holding each other's stares for a long, intimate moment before Viktor continues. “Have you ever thought about having children?”
“Viktor,” Yuuri chuckles, “Isn’t one enough?” The joke came out so naturally, Yuuri hardly thought twice about it, but internally wanted to kick himself.
“Isn’t one…” Viktor repeats trailing off until realization hits him. “Excuse me?” He feigns insult.
“I mean, I just took ten solid minutes trying to teach you to use chopsticks.” Yuuri plays along with his prior sarcasm. The nuance hits Viktor and he gives a smile.
“Ah, but wouldn’t you like a child perhaps a bit cuter, and younger, someone you can teach to set the table or do dishes?”
“...You want a kid so you don’t have to do your chores?”
“...Um… no?” Viktor’s voice is playful, and teasing. Yuuri rolls his eyes, sitting himself back at his plate.
“I don’t mind, however you can’t even take care of yourself, let alone another human. One who solely relies on you.” Yuuri picks up some food, thinking it over as he chews. “Kids are not the same as dogs… they have thoughts and opinions. A kid is a big responsibility, especially for a man who is currently wearing dirty underwear.” he continues his brutal teasing. Viktor stays silent, and for a moment Yuuri runs through the words he's muttered in his head, thinking he may have gone too far.
After scooping all that's left of his dinner into his mouth, Viktor abruptly stands, walking his bowl over to the sink and rinsing it off. “There, see, I took care of my dish, I can take care of a child,” Viktor jokes, before turning and walking back to Yuuri.
“Think less inanimate.” Yuuri calls over, putting another scoop of rice into his mouth.
“Yuuri~” Viktor breathes, warm and damp, right into Yuuri’s ear. “I take care of you just fine.” His hands trail up Yuuri’s navel, his shirt pooling over Viktor’s wrists.
“I’m still eating...” Yuuri grumbles.
“Well I'm still hungry,”
“There’s more rice in the wok.”
“I want something more… authentic.” He let the last word roll, hot and flirty. Yuuri felt a tingle roll down his spine, he shudders, turning a glare in Viktor’s direction.
“Go do the dishes and THEN we’ll talk.”
“You were the one who said we could, ‘pick up where we left off’, tonight.” Viktor hums. Yuuri turns, raising a hand to Viktors chin. He tilts his head ever so slightly, smiling a breath away from his lover’s mouth.
“We can pick up where we left off... and perhaps more… If you go do the dishes.” Yuuri urges sensually. Viktor leans in, but Yuuri pushes away, his hand sliding over his lips. “Dishes first.”
Viktor rushes to the sink, doing as he's asked. Yuuri enjoys his meal in silence, free no of past shenanigans, and once he's finished he takes his bowl and hands it to Viktor, who promptly adds it to the stack.
“I'm going to go get ready for bed.” Yuuri breathes against Viktor’s neck, kissing it before heading off.
“Don't fall asleep.”
“No promises.” Yuuri teases, the door closing behind him.
Viktor stands there in silence, mulling over their conversation, doubt and paranoia overtaking him as he finishes his task. Was he really not ready for kids? Maybe Yuuri was avoiding the topic at hand because he didn't want kids. His fingers drum into the lip of the counter in contemplation, more and more questions sprouting in his mind.
Viktor’s eyes move over to the source of the noise in surprise, forgetting all about the fact that he'd already started running the dishwasher. Right. Bed. He washes his hands, reaching up to dry them on the washcloth that is draped over the faucet.