Chapter Text
All Nippon Airways (ANA) Flight 5697 Boarding Gate, Fukuoka Airport (Hakata-ku, Fukuoka, Japan) - Late January, 2022: First leg of travel to 2022 Beijing Olympic Games, roughly 7AM
As Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov finished his third lap of pacing around ANA Flight 5967’s spacious boarding gate, he heard the text tone he’d set for his husband chime once. And then again, immediately after.
Grinning, he wondered what Yuuri would be messaging him for, given that he was seated directly behind him about 20 feet away and could easily walk over. As he struggled to fish his phone out from the pocket of his tight skinny jeans, Viktor’s grin widened, remembering how profuse Yuuri's admiration had been last week over the way his butt looked in them. If he wasn’t far off in his guesstimate, he was actually pretty sure that from where he was seated, his love had a direct view of his spectacular posterior.
So, being a simple man, he decided to play a game the two of them were quite fond of when in public spaces.
With a furtive glance behind him to make sure Yuuri was indeed looking his way, Viktor made a big show of “dropping” his phone on the ground. Ignoring the protest of his creaky knees, he straightened them and bent directly over, with his hand outstretched. As he wiggled his backside – groaning for dramatic effect, so any passerby would assume his movement was due to the aches that plagued most everyone over the age of 30 – his long fishtail braid grazed the dirty carpet. While he wasn’t particularly thrilled by that, well…sacrifices had to be made, in the name of eros. As Viktor grasped his phone, he laughed at the texts he could now read.
Even after years of being together and allowing himself to be spoiled with luxury designer shopping sprees, his spouse was still rather indifferent when it came to fashion. But, because Yuuri knew how important fashion was to Viktor, he took care to memorize the make of every one of his favorite outfit components.
Including, apparently, his new white, patent leather Tom Ford platform loafers that were completely impractical for rushed travel through major international airports. When Viktor had laid them out last night on his side of their gigantic walk-in closet, instead of urging him to wear something more sensible, Yuuri had thrown him a lecherous look and heatedly told him that they made his legs look great.
God, he loved him.
As he straightened up, an incoming call came through, from the very man he had been hoping for. Turning his head once more to flash a smirk behind him, Viktor swiped his thumb to answer and continued walking, putting a bit more swivel into his hips than usual.
“Well, baby?” he practically purred, upon answering. “What did you think of my ass-iduous display? Was it worthy of a nice +4 GOE1, or maybe even a perfect +5, considering the suppleness of that back-end execution?”
Yuuri let out a carefree laugh, and Viktor knew that if he turned around, he’d see him hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, the tips of his ears bright red.
“I was going to give you a +3, but because of your insistence on using cringe wordplay, I’ll have to drop you down to a +2. What a shame, sweetheart,” his husband replied in Russian, presumably so that Kenjirou couldn’t overhear.
Stifling the urge to giggle, Viktor instead gasped in faux outrage, seamlessly transitioning from purring to pouting. He had perfected this delicate back and forth over the last several years, but had gotten especially great mileage out of it ever since the 2020 off-season, when he’d begun coaching Yuri Plisetsky. Though Viktor's far grumpier student would have rather died than outright admit it, he’d missed him and Yuuri greatly when they’d left St. Petersburg in 2019 to move permanently to Japan.
The city of Fukuoka had become home to him and Yuuri for the last two-and-a-half years, and when Yuri decided to “follow” them and become his second ever student, they had relished the opportunity to welcome him into their Papio Ice Arena family.
It had all worked out exceedingly well, since Viktor would often glomp onto his enabling spouse for “comfort” whenever Yuri was giving him attitude during practice. Which, of course, was a daily occurrence.
“Wait, wait! I started off at only +3?! Where did I go wrong, my Yuuri?” he whined in dismay, now also in Russian.
Deciding to head in a different direction than his previous laps, Viktor began to cross over to the adjoining boarding gate, closest to their terminal’s moving walkway. As he kept moving, he took a scan from left to right, but nowhere did he see his gangly, hoodie-wearing friend/student, who was often easy enough to spot by way of his favorite leopard-printed Doc Martens.
“Well, I had to dock you significantly because you didn’t stay bent over long enough. I barely had enough time to enjoy the view, anata2, Yuuri countered, his accent curving around the syllables in a sinful way.
In the background of the call, Kenjirou commented that the best spin was yet to come, and Viktor nearly snickered; if the rising star of the Japanese Skating Federation (JSF) hadn’t been so relentlessly devoted to his girlfriend of the past 3 years, he would have felt far more disturbed at the amount of phone storage space the former had devoted to videos of Yuuri's skating.
“Ahh, you’re right Yusha, I’m much better than that,” he responded, his tone edging on plaintive.
He was about to ask whether “rescuing” was still needed, when his love spoke again, his voice turning sly.
“But as it turns out, I happen to have some sway with the rest of the judging panel, Vitya. There may be a supplemental way for you to earn back points, if you’re interested?”
Viktor was sure that he knew where this was going, but decided to humor him, anyway.
“Wow! Amazing!” he cried out, loudly, causing a sullen-looking teenager with a greasy ponytail to turn and glare at him.
He was tempted to respond with a dramatic toss of his braid over his shoulder, but thought that might be too mean; it probably wasn’t even this poor kid’s fault that he’d been using the wrong conditioner his whole life. Settling for beaming in his direction instead, Viktor continued on, now close to the retail area.
“Today seems to be my lucky day,” he continued, in a sing-song tone to Yuuri. “What might this ‘supplemental way’ entail, моя котлета маленький3?" he asked, deciding to temporarily give up his search for Yurio in favor of checking out the bookstore nearby.
He had reminded Yuri several times over the last few days that he’d need to be at their boarding gate by 6:30 am, which had now come and gone. Thanks to read receipts, he knew that the three unanswered texts he’d sent him had been seen.
Viktor swallowed down a sigh. Their first leg of travel to the 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics was by way of Tokyo, and he’d found out this morning that every other flight headed there was fully booked for at least another ten hours. Missing this one would put them significantly behind, and while Yuri was more than capable of traveling solo if they decided to go ahead without him, the idea of not being able to keep an eye on him made him feel uneasy.
Despite repeated scolding and threats, Yuri had been working himself to the bone the past few months in preparation for the Games, and at times it seemed like he might be close to snapping.
“Well…it’s actually quite the elaborate mechanism, and you know how some things don’t translate well over the phone,” Yuuri responded, airily. “But if you come back to where I’m seated, you could escort me somewhere private where I’d be more than happy to give you a full download,” he continued, with a fair amount of heat in his voice.
Not even a second passed before Viktor was turning right back around in the bookstore entryway to stride back towards their cluster of seats.
Was he even really in need of more books?
He had tons!
Was his shameless thirst for his spouse increasing with every footstep he took back towards him?
Absolutely.
And was he also in need of a pleasant distraction from the cloud of worry hanging over his head? A cloud that was teeming with grim thoughts of the Russian skating federation, memories from the last Olympic Games, and heightened anticipation for Yuuri’s last ever competitive skate?
Undoubtedly.
“What an interesting proposition, Милый мой4,” Viktor replied, nonchalantly, while nearly tripping in his haste to retrace his steps. “This ‘download’ wouldn’t by any chance involve a drunkenly made bet we have going on with two of our good friends, would it?”
Yuuri giggled, a sound that always made Viktor’s heart flutter. As he dodged a family outfitted with the cutest set of matching luggage that he’d ever seen (onigiri-printed!), he fondly recalled the raucous Jinjitsu5 party they'd hosted earlier in the month. While it had been an amazing way to ring in the new year, if there was one thing he and his husband regretted the following morning, it had been the fact that their caloric intake that night had been 80% alcohol, and 20% nanakusa-gayu, all mainly thanks to Phichit Chulanont and Lee Seung-Gil.
The Thai and Korean skaters, who began dating in 2019 and got engaged last April, had sponsorship obligations in Tokyo ahead of the Olympics, and had arranged a brief visit to see them before returning home to Bangkok. Given the success of their 2021 Jinjitsu party, he and Yuuri had decided to make it an annual tradition, hosting close to fifty guests at their three-story Hakata Ward house.
In addition to bringing together their various circles of Fukuoka friends, they’d also delighted in getting to celebrate with a number of their retired as well as active skating friends.
To nobody’s surprise, Christophe Giacometti and his partner of the last seven years – a former ice dancer named Uno Masumi, who he now worked alongside at the Swiss Skating Federation – had shown up with no less than 5 different collapsible poles, which made for a total of 6 poles in various rooms of their house, since they already had one permanently installed in their at-home dance studio.
During Chris and Yuuri’s second dance-off, Masumi had wandered off, and somehow wound up in their backyard pool along with the Leroys and Leo de la Iglesia, despite it being 4 degrees Celsius outside. Despite much shrieking, flailing, and shivering, their whiskey-induced elation had been quite a joy to behold, from the videos that made it to Instagram. And even though Yuri had vehemently insisted that he was too busy to come over, Phichit very helpfully pointed out at the 2am mark that he was one of the last of their friends to remain in attendance.
This comment apparently necessitated a karaoke duel that neither skater won, both having been upstaged by Papio Ice Arena’s Head Coach, Akihito Watanabe-Muthalaly. While normally fairly reserved, when drunk enough, Akihito could match even Yuuri in levels of uninhibitedness.
As Viktor approached the corner that would bring his love into view, he thought back to how it had been almost easier to spot who wasn’t drunk that night.
Somewhere around the 3am mark, he, Yuuri, Seung-Gil, and Phichit had been crowded around their basement-level bar. Thanks to the latter man’s heavy-handed sake pouring, Yuuri let slip to the other couple that the airport was one of the few public places they had never had sex. Now, Viktor hadn’t been especially bothered by this divulgement of the tawdry details of their intimate life, as 1) he had been far too happy attending to his lapful of their dogs, Goya and Meni, and 2) he had always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, which was common knowledge amongst their friends.
Over additional (ill-advised) servings of sake, Phichit had claimed in a stage-whisper that he and Seung-Gil had airport sex every time they traveled, a statement Yuuri called bullshit on several hours later, while stumbling around to find the glasses that were already atop his head. With his guard down due to the high from ample poodle kisses, Viktor’s feelings of invincibility had spurred him on to make a bold declaration. While covering Goya’s ears, he’d claimed that if he and his Yusha ever partook in such an act, it would undoubtedly be the hottest occurrence of public sex the world – ok, so maybe not the world, but certainly, any bathroom voyeurs – would ever have the pleasure of seeing.
Phichit’s hearty guffaw had then scared poor Meni, and Yuuri had quickly chimed in that he’d meant “the pleasure of hearing” rather than “seeing” (oh my god, stoppppp, Phichit-kun, we’d at least close the the stall door). Up until that point, Seung-Gil had been suspiciously silent, but with an air of casual indifference, he’d suddenly stated that claims like theirs couldn’t be backed up if they hadn’t managed "to do it even once”.
At this point in their marriage, Viktor and his husband had developed a keen sense of the other’s fight or flight inclinations in times of provocation. With only a brief glance at one another, they could tell they were thinking along the same lines. Wearing an expression that was quite reminiscent of the moment when he’d first declared that “Katsudon is my Eros!”, Yuuri had proclaimed that if they managed to do the deed in an airport before White Day, that the two of them would earn the right to organize an embarrassing slideshow of blackmail-worthy material to display at the Chulanont-Lee wedding reception, taking place at the very end of April.
After some back-and-forth around what constituted “the deed” (where everybody agreed that even a rushed handjob could count, as long as orgasm was involved), the topic turned to counter-terms. It was a testament to just how rip-roaringly drunk their friends were to agree to such a skewed agreement. Putting pen to paper in Seung-Gil’s sloppy, drunken handwriting, they’d stipulated that if he and Yuuri failed in their mission, they’d be required to perform a coordinated dance routine at the reception instead…something they had already planned on doing.
In their inebriation, Phichit and Seung-Gil had never specified who would develop the choreography for said dance, even though it was implied that it would be up to the grooms. But Viktor hardly felt bad about exploiting this loophole, since Yuuri had been seeking pay-back ever since Phichit had displayed a lengthy slideshow (complete with video footage) at their own wedding reception, back in April 2019.
When Viktor had woken up horribly hungover with daifuku stuck firmly to a braid in his hair, he’d cursed the other couple, who’d fallen asleep splayed out on their stairs with their faces covered in semi-pornographic stick-figure images (likely drawn on by Yuri). Now, however, he was thankful for the drunken adventures, and really hoped he and Yuuri would be able to sneak away to some private nook of the terminal.
“What a curious question, Viten’ka6,” his spouse replied, cheerfully, mirroring his words from earlier.
He was now within sight, though still a bit far away. It was perhaps a little silly to remain on the phone when he’d soon get to talk to him in person, but Viktor knew they were both enjoying the excuse to play into the thrill of their “secret” Russian conversation.
“I can neither confirm nor deny any association between the download and this supposed bet,” Yuuri continued on, with the ghost of a laugh in his voice. “That being said, it’s rather bold of you to assume I’d be able to remember such a thing, anyway. You’re talking to the same man who pole-danced his way into his soulmate’s life, and didn’t remember a second of it. If my brain can’t hold space for monumental events like that, you can hardly expect me to recall details of bets that may or may not revolve around ripping each other’s clothes off in semi-public spaces…which, incidentally for us, is just a regular Tuesday.”
Viktor barked out a laugh, finally close enough to just make out the wide grin on Yuuri’s face.
He could also see that a few more members of their Papio travel group had finally arrived – though still no Yuri. To be fair, 6:30am was much earlier than he really needed to arrive, but by now, he’d traveled enough with his younger student and the rest of their crew to know that he had to include a generous cushion.
A very, very generous cushion. The rink’s head coach, Akihito Watanabe-Muthalaly, was punctual enough, but his husband, Mohit, was really not a morning person; he practically had to be dragged through the airport. Viktor briefly recalled the last few times that Akihito had accidentally forgotten his breakfast at home. Though Papio had an excellent cafeteria that opened every morning at 6am, due to Mohit’s pride as a relatively well-known local chef in the area, he refused to let his husband eat anything that didn’t meet the standard of “a gourmet start to the day”. He also fully acknowledged that he was a bit of a snob, as at one point he’d raged that the fresh fish they served for breakfast in the cafeteria was “slop”.
He and Yuuri had been lost to long fits of the giggles whenever they witnessed the normally-cheery Indian chef stomping disgruntledly through the rink hallways to deliver a forgotten multi-course breakfast. At present, the Watanabe-Muthalalys were slumped over in a secluded corner of the gate, with their fingers interlaced and their heads together. While Viktor sincerely believed that he and Yuuri were Fukuoka’s cutest couple, Akihito and Mohit made for a close second.
Or maybe third, he mused, spotting Katsuki Mari and her fiance, Amara Pree. They looked like they had just arrived, and were settling into the row near the phone charging station. At that moment, Mari was dropping a kiss on the younger woman’s forehead and, once again, he was reminded of the transformation he’d seen in his sister-in-law in recent years.
When he was first getting to know Yuuri nearly six years ago in Hasetsu, his then-boyfriend had confided in him that he sometimes worried that Mari resented him for their very different life trajectories. While she’d never said anything to either of them to even remotely suggest it, Viktor remembered Yuuri telling him that his decision to pursue elite coaching in the Junior Division had meant that there was less money available for his sister in the future. Especially if she ever decided she wanted to pursue a life outside of Hasetsu as he had.
As his coach, Viktor had done his best to get his student to reframe his thinking, but he knew that it was partly the guilt over his parents’ “wasted money” that had plagued Yuuri so heavily after his last place finish in Sochi, back in 2015 at the Grand Prix Final. He made sure to remind him that the JSF and his sponsors covered a large portion of his expenses, but even still, he knew that the perceived imbalance between the two siblings – even to this day – troubled Yuuri very much. So much so, that when his then-fiance won silver at the Barcelona Grand Prix Final, he’d set aside all of his prize money in a savings account for Mari.
As that season continued, Viktor observed him quietly add to the fund, with his gold medal winnings from Four Continents and his even larger gold medal winnings from World’s making for sizable contributions. Aided by a number of lucrative sponsorship contracts, Yuuri had managed to amass his end goal for her by mid-summer 2017, and Viktor had been only too happy to add his own share as well. After all, he’d accumulated more than enough money in savings and ongoing sponsorships to support him and Yuuri for years to come. Mari’s pride was a daunting obstacle for them at first, but she eventually relented and accepted the funds at her brother's insistence that he owed a great deal of his own success to her sacrifices.
By using around half of the money to hire an additional three full-time staff for the onsen, she was able to free herself from any guilt around exploring her own future. About a week after she’d decided to accept the money, Mari had admitted to them that she’d always wanted to get some college education and hospitality management experience before formally taking over ownership of Yutopia. At their urging, she enrolled in a 3-year business management degree program at Kyushu University that began in fall 2017. It was through this program that Mari met Amara, who she began living with in downtown Fukuoka in early 2019, after half a year of dating.
Though he and Yuuri had met Amara prior to their own move to the city, living in such close proximity to the other couple allowed them to truly get to know her. As such, it didn’t take long for them to observe how Mari had blossomed under the gentle cover of her partner’s affections.
While she was normally good natured, around Amara, there was a palpable lightness about her; the once-rare sight of her belly-laughing in Hasetu became downright common after the two began dating. His heart-shaped smile came out in full force as he remembered their double date two weeks ago, when Amara had told them a story about her and Mari’s cat, Eider, that had them all laughing so hard they cried.
“You have such a pretty smile,” his husband said, dreamily, recapturing his attention as they continued their call.
Look who’s talking, Viktor thought, feeling a furious blush creep up his cheeks at the praise.
For a second, he hoped that Yuri actually wasn’t here yet; if he were, he’d no doubt be fake-gagging at them flirting over the phone in Russian, despite being in direct sight of one another.
“Oh, what’s this, what’s this?” he sing-songed in reply, now just two rows away. “Is ~my Yuuuurrrrrriii~ trying to start a compliment war with me?”
Viktor delighted in seeing the resulting furrow of Yuuri's brow, as well as the cute ‘o’ shape his lips made as he began to reply.
“That’s very adorable,” he plowed ahead, in a wicked tone, “but don’t expect to win. You’re playing out of your league, Katsuki-Nikiforov.”
As he hung up the phone, he saw Yuuri's jaw drop, and practically skipped over to enter their row of seats. For the moment, Kenjirou appeared to be nowhere in sight, and he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking their “escape” might be easier than anticipated.
As he approached his vacant seat, Viktor nimbly dodged the emerald green scarf – one of his birthday gifts for Yuuri last year – that he’d begun snapping at him. He laughed as it just missed his knee, grateful that he was still fairly limber despite the constant battering his limbs had been subjected to for most of his life.
“I could totally – ”
Snap!
“ – beat you – ”
Snap!
“ – in a compliment war!”
Snap!
On his third try, Viktor caught hold of his spouse’s fearsome weapon, and tugged it towards him as he dropped into his seat. Though he felt a brief moment of resistance, Yuuri eagerly leaned in to accept the kiss he was offering. They were both grinning like idiots, so while it was more like giggling with their teeth bumping together rather than a true kiss, it still made his chest feel pleasantly warm.
Drawing back slightly, Viktor shot Yuuri a coy look, and began to twirl the end of his braid around a finger.
“You always know how to make me laugh, you’re the world’s best kisser, and you look like an angel when you sleep,” he whispered, the words tumbling out in one breath.
Immediately, spots of color bloomed high on Yuuri’s cheeks, and he leaned forward to hide his face against his shoulder.
“Зайчонок7,” you know how competitive I am! You just love riling me up, don’t you?” he muttered in reply, reaching out to slip his arms around his waist.
He was wearing one of Viktor’s favorite sweaters – a cream-colored cable knit that made him look impossibly soft and cuddly – so it was really no hardship to put his arms around him in return.
“Of course I do,” he replied, serenely. “Ahh, but wait…”
Viktor paused, for dramatic effect. If Yuuri had been looking at him, he would have tapped his lips, too.
“How terrible,” he murmured, with mock sadness. “There’s simply no time for you to retaliate, since we have a bet to go win. You know what I always say: better to quit while you’re ahead, so I guess you’ll just have t– ”
Mmmmmmph!
Viktor suddenly found his lips covered by the emerald scarf, which his love, eyes alight with mischief, was wrapping around his mouth and neck. He was being gentle, of course; it wasn’t like he was actually trying to smother him, but the idea behind the action was very clear.
“Here’s what I want to know,” Yuuri began, his tone heavy with meaning, “you said I’m the world’s best kisser, but there’d be no way for you to know that unless you kissed a large, random sample of people and compared notes in a very rigorous, scientific process.”
Viktor’s eyes widened, already knowing where this was heading.
Hell yes; he loved when his husband got possessive.
He felt himself grow warm, and it wasn’t just because of the partial cocoon around his face. His braid hung free, so it was actually quite comfortable and cozy.
“Tell me, Vitya,” Yuuri continued, his eyes now piercing as he began to tuck the ends of the “wrap” in, “did you conduct a rigorous, scientific process that allowed you to compare notes and kiss a large, random sample of people?”
He paused and leaned in slightly, and Viktor felt the urge to shiver.
“People that aren’t me?” he finished, his voice dipping low in a possessive tone that he’d heard many times before in a number of settings, though they all usually involved less clothes.
He whimpered in reply and began to bat his eyelashes in the way he knew drove his spouse crazy.
Yuuri’s breath hitched in response, and he felt a spike of pride at his effect on him.
“Up. Now. I’ve already got our supplies ready,” Yuuri commanded, firmly, before standing.
Viktor felt flutters of anticipation swarm his insides when he saw how his husband's jaw was clenching. Feeling a little dazed at the sudden charge in the air between them, he stood and began to unravel the cocoon, his fingers moving clumsily in his excitement.
Then, like a harbinger of chaos, Minami Kenjirou, Men’s Singles gold medalist in cock-blocking, swooped in.
“Viktor-sensei?” his voice rang out, directly behind them.
Noooooooooo! For the love of God, Kenjirou…Right when we’re about to sneak off to have steamy, wanton airport sex? Really??
He took a deep breath and attempted to muster up all the patience he possessed. He liked Kenjirou, he really did, but Viktor already had a lot on his mind…and he suspected that whatever the other man had to say would only add to it. At the same time, he couldn’t ignore all that he had done for them; Kenjirou was the main reason he and Yuuri had even been given the opportunity to join Papio in the first place.
While Yuuri had initially found his hero-worship off-putting, Viktor was quite proud of the way he had stepped into a mentorship role for his peer after his move to St. Petersburg, halfway through the 2016-2017 skating season. His then-fiance had kept Kenjirou updated on their lives even while in Russia, so once Coach Watanabe’s skater had learnt of their plan to move to Japan after Viktor’s retirement, he had suggested Papio Ice Arena as a possible training and coaching option.
Even back then, he and Yuuri had long-term aspirations to work with the Nishigoris to transform Hasetsu’s Ice Castle into their own skating academy, and they knew that a few years living in a more prominent city first would be beneficial. This interim period would allow them to establish trusted contacts with other skaters and coaches that would serve them well in getting the word out about their plans.
Plus, Yuuri was already familiar with the city, having traveled to Fukuoka often as a Junior Division skater. As an added bonus, they’d suspected that the move would allow them the opportunity to connect with potential future sponsors, which was easier to do given that the JSF had a regional office in downtown Fukuoka.
Thankfully, Kenjirou’s gregarious nature endeared him to nearly everyone at the federation, and he was more than willing to use these close relationships to nudge JSF leadership into supporting their idea. It also helped that Akihito had been actively seeking to build up his staff and the rink’s notoriety. When news of their potential move began to spread, it seemed that nearly the entire city was thrilled at the prospect. As such, they had been greeted with a very warm welcome that made their transition from Russia easier than they could have ever imagined.
Channeling his gratitude, Viktor uncovered his mouth and tried to focus on not sounding too put-out when he replied.
“Hello, Kenjirou. How’s it going?” he responded, turning to give him a wan smile.
“I’m alright, sensei! It’s just that, I’ve kind of got the impression that you’re worried about Yuri-kun being late, right?” the other man questioned, toying a bit with his hair as he fidgeted.
While Viktor had been a big fan of Kenjirou’s red and blond hair – it was exactly the kind of thing that conservative sponsors hated and they could, quite frankly, suck it – he couldn’t deny that his more subtle look now, with blonde and honey-brown highlights really suited him. It gave the formerly-dubbed “Chicken Nugget” a look of maturity.
At his silent nod, Kenjirou hurriedly went on.
“I actually don’t think you have to be too worried. I know for a fact that he’s somewhere here in the airport.”
Viktor sighed. The tension that seemed to have wormed its way up his spine eased a tiny bit, but at the same time, he now felt even more annoyed.
“It’s not your fault, Kenjirou, obviously…but I’m a bit frustrated with Yura right now. Why is it that he can communicate with his rinkmate and not his coach?” he asked, in a clipped tone.
The question was rhetorical, and they both knew it.
He felt Yuuri’s fingers trail up his face to begin massaging his temple, and leaned into the reassuring touch. He knew his own worries sometimes fueled his love’s anxiety, which was one of the main reasons he was so apprehensive about the coming weeks.
With the Beijing Games marking his last competition before retirement, Viktor wanted Yuuri to be able to focus on his skating without having to worry about his own preoccupations as well. Suppressing the urge to sigh again, he closed his eyes and focused on the blissful sensation near his temple.
“You said that you know he’s in the airport. Is he ok? Does he need help?” Viktor asked.
A few moments of silence passed, and when he opened his eyes it was to the sight of Kenjirou worrying his lip with his teeth, fidgeting even more than he already was.
“Viktor-kochi…I would tell you if I could, but it’s not my place. I’m really sorry,” he said, sounding like he meant it. His eyes looked almost pleading.
Ok…so all signs pointed to the fact that Yura was in trouble, of some sort.
Mentally, Viktor was kicking himself. What kind of coach didn’t even know how their skater was doing, or where they were on the way to the Olympics?? He knew he should have been a bit more insistent on picking Yuri up this morning, but the two times he had offered, his student had grown irritable and snapped that he was babying him. After those ill-fated attempts, he had conspired with Yuri's co-coach, a man named Kishimoto Taku, who was one of the more senior assistant coaches at Papio. Taku conducted around half of Yuri's training sessions, and when circumstances required Yuuri and Yuri to be at different competitions on overlapping dates, the former stood in as his head coach.
While he had later informed him that Yuri was at least (mostly) polite in his responses, Taku had also been shut down, with their student apparently claiming that he was fine to get an Uber.
Just then, Kenjirou’s phone began to ring obnoxiously loudly, and in his periphery, Viktor saw Mohit cast a small frown in their direction. He’d clearly just been woken from his slumber.
“Ah! His ears must have been burning!” Kenjirou cried, looking relieved. With a swift tap to his phone screen, he lifted the device to his ears.
“Ohayou, Yuri-kunnnn!”
Yuri's voice barked out almost instantly, loud enough to render speakerphone entirely unnecessary.
“Kenjirou! Is the old man shitting himself yet?”
Viktor balked at the note of glee in his voice, and resisted the almost compulsive urge to roll his eyes. Kenjirou wisely chose to dodge the question.
“How close are you? Everybody’s here now. Do you need help?”
“Negative,” Yuri replied, the sharpness of his voice evident even over a slightly muffled connection.
“I’ve been traveling alone in airports since I was twelve years old. I can manage to get myself over to you all without step-by-step guidance. Tell the geezer and Katsudon to keep their clothes on, I’ll be there in five.”
Viktor shot a hand out to grab at the device, but by that time, Yuri had already hung up. It was Yuuri that chose to break the awkward silence that followed.
“I feel like we’re missing something pretty…important. I know you said it’s not your place, Kenjirou-kun, but if Yura’s in actual trouble, Vitya or Taku-kochi8 need to know. He hasn’t texted back with either one of them,” he said, softly, with no trace of judgment. “Are you sure you can’t say more?”
Kenjirou's face seemed to crumple instantaneously, and Viktor was pretty sure those were tears swimming in his eyes.
“Believe me, Yuuri-senpai…I want to tell you, but Yuri-kun made me promise not to say anything! I can’t break that promise, but still, I’m so sorry that I can’t be more helpful to you and sensei.”
Sounding distraught, Kenjirou looked like he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at their feet and beg forgiveness, and Viktor was almost positive he would if he didn’t intervene soon.
Lord almighty…how had Yakov dealt for years with not only Yuri, but Mila, Georgi and him without suffering an aneurysm every other day?
“Don’t worry about it, Kenjirou,” Viktor responded, trying to inject as much warmth into his voice as possible. “You’re not responsible for Yura’s decisions, or what he does or doesn’t decide to share with me. I plan to have a chat with him when he shows up, so you’re off the hook.”
He managed to direct a thin smile at the trembling skater.
Kenjirou gaped at him for a few seconds, but eventually remembered to close his mouth. Moving forward abruptly, he caught Viktor in a tight and slightly cumbersome embrace, given the seats separating them. A few moments passed where he sniffled into his shoulder, and once Viktor caught Yuuri's eye, the latter got the hint and joined in.
When the extra set of arms encircled their shoulders, he felt Kenjirou begin to tremble with delight.
Viktor began to wonder how early in the day was considered too early to order vodka during a flight, but his daydreaming was interrupted when he felt yet another set of hands enter their group hug. Blinking his eyes open, he caught sight of Tanaka Izumi’s impish grin, just over the top of Yuuri’s head.
“Why are we group hugging Kenjirou-kun?”
It was far more accurate to say that he and Yuuri were the ones doing all the work, as Team Japan’s leading Women's Singles skater had her arms wholly wrapped around her idol. Viktor smothered a laugh as he felt Yuuri smile against his neck; Izumi would readily latch onto any excuse to bestow affection onto him, even more fervently admiring than Kenjirou at times.
On her first day of training at Papio back in April 2020, Coach Watanabe’s precocious and talented 20-year-old skater had come right up to Yuuri, and had loudly declared that she would eventually have presentation component scores that were even better than his own, one day. She had then skated away, blushing furiously, and began practicing figures with a sort of crazed fervor.
Afterwards, his husband had turned to him, brow furrowed in a way that had simply demanded that Viktor kiss it, and admitted to being unsure of what had just happened. He very happily informed him that they could add yet another name to the ‘Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov Ardent Fans and Admirers List’. He himself was top of the rankings, of course, and took great pride in making sure no one ever had reason to doubt his placement.
“Team Papio bonding, Izumi-chan!” Yuuri joked in reply. “It’s good luck for Beijing!”
“Oh, yes,” Kenjirou caught on. “But it’s really not the same without Akihito-kochi and Mohit-itamae9.”
He broke away from the group slightly, casting a look of fake longing in the aforementioned couple’s direction.
“You’re right, Kenjirou!” Viktor exclaimed loudly, making sure that his voice would carry. “We all know Mohit gives the best hugs in the morning! Why don’t you go get him to join us?”
He grinned as Kenjirou hurried away, laughing to himself. None of them could resist teasing a sleep-deprived Mohit. The hilarious and melodramatic chef had become one of his and Yuuri's closest friends during their time living in Fukuoka. In both foodie fervor and level of extraness, he was a great match for Viktor’s sensibilities, and it was not uncommon for the Watanabe-Muthalalys to join them for double-dates that very quickly went off the rails. Their last dinner bill had been close to 9,000 yen.
“That serves Mohit-itamae right for two weeks ago,” Yuuri said, with a meaningful glance his way.
Before they could explain to Izumi about the most recent iteration of the chef’s monthly dinner party, a loud squeal rang out on the left, causing them all to jump.
“Ohmygodohmygoddddd, you finally bought them?!?!”
With eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, an awestruck Kimura Niko came into view, looking like she wanted to marry the shoes currently on Viktor’s feet. As she drew nearer, practically drooling, he laughed and gracefully extended his leg, pointing his toes in a way that even Lilia would not find fault with.
“Yes! What do you think?” he asked, excitedly. “True to the pictures I showed you?”
“Even better,” Niko breathed, almost reverently, making Yuuri and Izumi laugh as well.
Niko and Izumi had been dating for the last 3 years, and the two of them absolutely adored him and Yuuri. The adoration went both ways, and Viktor knew within 5 minutes of meeting Niko that the two of them would get along. For one, she was a graduate student in fashion design studies at Kyushu University, so the two of them got to bond over their shopping addictions, while their significant others would watch from afar with a mix of fondness and exasperation. She’d been one of the first of their Papio friends and colleagues that he’d come out to regarding his gender fluidity, and her and Izumi’s fierce support as he’d navigated coming out at work had meant the world to him.
In spite of his father’s outright disdain for it, Viktor had begun playing around with his gender expression as a pre-teen.
As young as age ten, he’d always known that he possessed innate artistry, and regarded the exploration of makeup, hairstyles, and clothing to be a natural extension of it. As soon as he’d become age-eligible at thirteen, he had moved into the skater dorms adjoining the rink, and aside from the obvious joy of escaping Ilia Nikiforov’s stifling presence, he relished the freedom of being able to buy nail polish and cute skirts without having to look over his shoulder.
Even when his daily routine had consisted of nothing more than sleeping, school, diet-approved meals and round-the-clock skating, Viktor found ways to honor the duality of both his masculine and feminine nature. As was the case now, it was a very day-by-day thing; some days, he felt very much aligned with the biological sex he’d been assigned at birth, while others, he identified far more androgynously, or explicitly femininely. When his peers had spent their Saturday nights attending parties in their most stylish outfits, sixteen-year-old Viktor would show up to Yubileyny some of those same evenings with a full face of makeup, skating with his long hair flying behind him in elaborately braided styles.
But, as with most things in Russian society, as his career had taken off, the pressure to conform to more conservative ideals became too burdensome to fight. Despite Yakov and Lilia’s attempts to champion his personal freedom, Viktor’s sponsors were capable of creating quite a ruckus for the FFKKR10.
Short of actual physical threats (though this didn’t make the hate mail any less jarring), it had been made very clear to him on more than one occasion that if he was going to be representing his country in the public eye, he needed to maintain a certain type of appearance when off the ice: one that wouldn’t suggest any desire to “go against the grain”. While he’d been told that he could do whatever he wanted for his performances, when he put his blade guards on, he was expected to flip on the “mental switch” that necessitated his placating and pandering to those too fragile to handle his authentic self, whether it was in regards to his gender or sexuality.
When he’d been forced to cut his hair in order to secure his country’s selection for the 2010 Vancouver Olympic Games, Viktor had become so inured to the machinations of the Russian skating federation’s “ego circus”, that he hardly had the energy to fight back against their wheeling-and-dealing.
Though he had achieved enough financial security that he wasn’t as beholden to the fickle nature of meddlesome sponsors, he had become an important enough asset to the FFKKR, that he had been privy to the myriad ways besides money that the federation could seek to ruin an uncooperative athlete. So, for over a decade, he’d suppressed that part of himself that knew the stark demarcations of the gender binary felt wrong…maybe not wrong all of the time, but certainly enough of the time that it slowly began to ravage his insides.
Until that first season, coaching Yuuri.
“Izumi, will you get me a pair just like these?” Niko pleaded, turning towards her girlfriend with imploring eyes.
Izumi made a big show of giving him the “look what you’ve started” stink-eye, though he knew it was entirely in jest.
“What do you say, Izumi-channnnnn?” he sing songed, pirouetting with surprisingly good form, considering the rough carpet underfoot. “A little birdy told me you finalized the sponsorship terms with Asics, so I think you can shell out a couple hundred for your ~dear Niko~, right?”
As he readied himself for another pirouette, Izumi lightly shoved him, and he fell out of his set-up with a giggle.
“You don’t have to say ‘a little birdy’, Viktor-kochi, you can just say it was Yuuri-senpai,” she replied, her lips twitching. “Unless there’s some other top athlete you know that has Asics wrapped around their finger?”
At this, Yuuri blushed, deeply, and Viktor slung a proud arm around him.
It really was true; Asics was one of Japan’s largest companies, and for three years now, Yuuri had been their domestic star athlete, appearing in several of their print as well as digital ad campaigns. He’d designed an entire line of shoes for them, and had been in 5 different commercials “modeling” each.
“I wouldn’t say they’re wrapped around my finger,” Yuuri mumbled, looking sheepish.
“So modest, sweetheart,” Viktor crowed, twirling him around as Izumi and Niko looked on, happily. “I seem to recall Haru mentioning that the Exec Board members were ‘tripping over themselves’ to make sure the katsudon was up-to-par at their summer awards banquet.”
His spouse gave him a somewhat betrayed look, but before he could keep adding fuel to the fire of their “compliment war”, they heard a somewhat familiar chorus of agitation to their right.
Yuri and his 3 leopard-print bags appeared to be in the middle of a Mari and Amara sandwich, and the harried skater could be heard loudly complaining that he “was with you losers just a few days ago!”
In perfect sync, he and Yuuri scurried over to surround him, and after offering apologetic smiles to both Amara and Mari, and waving a hand to Taku, Viktor began herding his two skaters over to a secluded nook at the adjoining gate. While ushering Yuri over, he spotted his red-rimmed, puffy eyes, which were quite at odds with his aggressive insistence that “everything’s fine, there’s nothing to talk about, old man!”.
Even in his earliest days of coaching Yuuri, the media and other naysayers often mistook Viktor’s lack of experience for flippancy, but he had always known when the time came to be serious…even if he didn’t always go about expressing his concern in the best way.
Now mostly hidden from view behind the charger wall, he placed both of his hands on Yuri’s shoulders, and waited until he met his gaze.
“Yura, this isn’t meant to be a scolding for being late”, he began, quietly. “You’ve obviously been crying, and it’s not like you to ignore texts from Taku or I, so…what’s going on? Will you let us help you?”
Yuri remained quiet, and Viktor gave his husband a quick glance so he could try his luck.
“Is this about the Games, Yura?” Yuuri asked. “We know you’ve been putting a lot of pressure on yourself but try to remember: things are totally different this time around from PyeongChang. Vitya and Taku-kochi told me that your practice runs have been flawless.”
Again, no response, but it was hard to miss the viridian-tinged tears that began welling up in Yuri's eyes.
Even this small show of vulnerability reinforced just how much the once-guarded man had evolved with time.
After the death of his grandfather in October 2019 – the impetus for his moving to Japan – Yuri was irrevocably changed.
In the aftermath of Nikolai’s passing, he had fallen into a months-long depressive state, and had allowed him and Yuuri to take care of him in a way he had always been resistant to, prior. Though Yuri certainly didn’t like to reminisce on that period of his life, he had made it clear that his willingness to be vulnerable around the two of them wasn’t something he easily afforded to just anyone; his ability to (mostly) accept their help without internalizing it as an admission of weakness signaled a turning point in their relationship.
Before, Yuri had been desperate to convince himself and others that he didn’t need to rely on anyone except for his grandfather or his best friend Otabek. Now, however, he was more willing to admit if he was struggling.
Even if it took some prodding.
“Oh, Yura,” Viktor said sadly, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
Apparently, this was all it took for the proverbial leap off of the cliff, because in the next instant, Yuri had thrust his face into his hands, beginning to shake. His shuddering sobs were practically silent, though. If Viktor hadn’t been able to see his body shaking right in front of him, he wouldn’t have truly grasped the extent to which his student was shattering apart.
He had seen him cry before, of course, but it was still a wrenching sight.
He and Yuuri crowded in simultaneously, his love beginning a soothing cadence of murmured Japanese, while he himself began to dig in his back pocket for some tissues. Knowing there was little use in trying to get him to speak just yet, Viktor began to breathe deeply, hoping that the rhythmic pace might serve as a nudge to Yuri to mimic him. Before long, he heard Yuuri joining in, and after about a minute, all three of them were in sync.
They stood there in a huddle while urgent boarding announcements resounded overhead from a crackling intercom. Even so, Viktor wasn’t concerned with anything outside of their immediate vicinity.
His marriage and his work with Pasha in therapy11 over the past few years had taught him that it was counterproductive to rush emotional processing in situations like this. When it came to grief, it would take however long it would take, and trying to abridge the experience would be disrespectful to his student. Not to mention that it would send him a message of merely conditional friendship. He remembered Yuuri telling him as much during a “down day” incident he’d had a few years back.
Thanks to a combination of his spouse’s support, medication, and talk/EMDR therapy, Viktor’s depression was nowhere near as debilitating as it had been prior to his rediscovery of his “L words”.
He naturally still had bad days on occasion, which he and Yuuri had gotten into a habit of referring to as his “down days”. On this particular October afternoon back in 2019, they were excited to meet up with some of their new friends in Fukuoka at a Halloween pet costume party, and couldn’t wait to show off all three of their pups, who they’d dressed up as an adorable dinosaur trio.
Viktor had been feeling great all morning and was looking forward to an afternoon surrounded by cute dogs and his even cuter husband. Which was why it caught him completely off-guard when he had burst into tears shortly before they were due to leave. Yuuri had held him tightly while he’d sobbed into his shoulder for nearly half an hour, and Makka, Meni, and Goya had all whined worriedly around them and climbed over his thighs to give him kisses.
When Viktor had managed to stop crying and realized how late they were for the party, he had felt horribly guilty; since their move to Fukuoka in May, they had become fast friends with several of their neighbors and he knew that everyone was looking forward to their first appearance at one of the community’s biggest seasonal events.
He apologized profusely, but his kind, caring Yuuri wouldn’t hear a word of it.
“Don’t worry, honey,” he had said quietly, brushing away the tears on his cheeks with such tenderness that Viktor almost began weeping anew. “Viten'ka, you’re so much more important than any party,” he had continued. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, holding you.”
But Viktor had glumly replied that he was embarrassed and confused, unsure where his abrupt sadness had come from, and why he couldn’t seem to shake it. His wonderful Yuuri had then told him something that they’d gotten into the habit of saying to one another on their less-than-stellar days, plagued by anxiety or depression: ‘My love for you is not conditional. I’ll stay close to you, and together we’ll get through this, for however long it takes’.
To which the other person would respond with gratitude.
This was another thing they had been practicing with one another: instead of apologizing for needing support, they reframed a “sorry for being needy” into a “thank you for being so attentive to my needs”.
During the depressive state following his grandpa’s death, they had even gotten Yuri to adopt the habit as well. Those months had been marked by sudden crying spells such as this one, and the memory made Viktor’s heart pluck with worry for his friend/student.
For the moment, Yuri’s sobs seemed to have subsided but he still hadn’t lifted his head or made an attempt to break out of their hold. When he did finally speak, his voice was croaky, and Viktor had to keep from wincing.
“It is about Beijing…I actually thought about not showing up today. That’s why I was late,” Yuri said, his voice hushed.
Viktor felt as if the breath had been punched out of his chest.
Whatever he’d been expecting him to say, it certainly wasn’t that. One of figure skating’s premier competitors, the reigning World Champion, missing out on his second ever Olympics?
It seemed inconceivable.
During the lighter moments over the last few months when Yuri had taken his and Taku’s advice about not working himself into the ground, he would tease Yuuri about sending him into retirement with his tail between his legs, so the revelation seemed completely at odds with his typical trash-talk.
Looking forlorn, Yuri finally broke away from the tangle of their arms, and when he stepped back, he was looking somewhere beyond Yuuri’s shoulder.
“Last time around, for PyeongChang, everyone knew I wasn’t at my best,” he continued. “That shitty growth spurt and all, but even in tenth place, grandpa – ”
His voice hitched, and Viktor felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Yuri inhaled deeply.
“Grandpa was still proud of me. I remember him telling me that tenth in the world was nothing to scoff at, but I couldn’t help it, I really really felt like I’d let him down. I was so ashamed.”
His shoulders began to shake once more, and Viktor could only watch, frozen. He had heard this, before, but even still, a feeling of dread rose up in him. He suddenly had the ludicrous urge to run away.
“I remember he told me ‘Yurotchka, you’ll have so many more Olympics. You’re so young,” Yuri continued, voice raw. “And me, a young, stupid, 17 year-old kid – ”
His voice broke on the last word, and ridiculous as it was, Viktor felt as if the sound waves from his student’s throat transformed mid-air into something sharp; it felt as if a piece had chipped off and sliced through his own chest. In his periphery, he could see the pained expression on Yuuri’s face.
He wanted to reach out a hand to put it on his shoulder, but all he could concentrate on was keeping his feet still, and resisting the odd impulse to flee. The rest of Yuri's words sounded as if they were reluctant to escape his throat. The noise seemed to claw its way out, painfully.
“I...was stupid enough to believe him. To believe him when he told me that next time, he’d watch me – ”
The anguish in his voice seemed to zap at Viktor’s limbs, and without even being conscious of it, he began to move. Draping himself over Yuri, protectively, he cradled the back of his head with one hand. Yuuri joined too and he was grateful for the additional bolstering, as it felt as if his student's knees had buckled. Yuri was more clinging to them rather than standing on his own.
“He told me he’d watch me win an Olympic medal one day,” he said, bitterly, clenching desperately at Viktor’s sweater. “Why would he say that?!” he continued, sounding utterly broken, and more than ever like a lost little boy, instead of a 21-year-old man who had been traveling in airports by himself ever since he was twelve years old.
In that moment, Viktor felt intense shame.
He knew Yuri had been eager to redeem himself this time around after his performance four years ago, but as his coach, his main support, Viktor had failed to connect the dots. In hindsight it seemed so obvious: that so much of Yuri's desire to prove himself might be the result of latent grief over Nikolai's passing. In all of Viktor’s own preoccupation leading up to the Olympics – doubts around his efforts to adequately support Yuuri, worry around how the ugliness from the PyeongChang Games12 might come back to haunt them both – Yuri’s well-being had gotten lost in the mix.
He and Taku had been so short-sighted…
No, Viktor mentally corrected himself. This was on him, not Taku.
Taku hadn’t been the one to stand next to Yuri at Nikolai’s funeral. Taku hadn’t been the one to help him box up his grandfather’s modest belongings, including the 12 different photo frames around his old apartment that depicted him and Yuri together. Taku hadn’t been the one to learn how to make Katsudon piroshki, as for the longest time, Yuri couldn’t find the will to make it himself, even though he was comforted by the taste.
As much as Yuri had opened up emotionally with him and Yuuri, Viktor knew in his bones that he hadn’t wanted to burden him, likely aware of how fragile Viktor's own mental health had become the closer and closer they’d gotten to the Olympics.
But as his coach, he should have pushed past his defenses, should have probed beyond the surface-level “how are you feeling about things?” inquiry that he had posed to him here and there after a difficult practice. If he had done that, he’s sure it would have become clear to him just how deep his student's unhealed grief ran.
Yuri was mourning something he wouldn’t have this time around: his grandfather holding an embarrassingly large banner with his face on it up in the stands; Nikolai taking pictures of him against the backdrop of conjoined rings in the ridiculously large arena; and, of course, his biggest cheerleader celebrating with him when he skated a performance he felt worthy of…the one he had wanted to give four years ago. The full scope of what he had missed hit him, and the force of Viktor’s regret felt staggering, causing him to dissociate. He didn’t even realize he was babbling in Russian until he felt Yura's shoulders shaking again – not from weeping however, but from laughter.
“Huh?” Viktor questioned, temporarily startled out of his spiraling.
The sudden change in tone felt like whiplash, and he was confused by the smile spreading across Yuuri’s face.
“I think you’re confusing me for Katsudon, old man,” Yuri said, breaking slightly from Viktor’s embrace.
His heart sank when he saw his mottled face, but the sight was tempered somewhat by the fact that he was clearly trying to hold back a laugh. At his quizzical expression, Yuri sighed, though the sound lacked any true heat.
“You just called me “baby” in Russian, and told me that you love me very much, and that you’ll ‘stay close to me’, like you promised in your marriage vows,” he finished, his tone equal parts fond and mocking.
Yuuri giggled, and the sound was like a balm for his heavy heart. Viktor felt a flush spring to his cheeks, but couldn't feel too embarrassed over his hysteria-babbling when it had ended up bringing a smile to the other two.
“Sorry, Yura,” he said, laughing sheepishly. “You know me…I default to romance and sappiness when I’m panicking.”
Yuri just rolled his eyes and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. Viktor had learned over the years that this was his way of saying “you’re such a dork, but you’re also ok to be around… sometimes”.
He carefully removed his arm from around his frame and cleared his throat, wanting to get serious for a moment.
“First off, if I utter a single word about your diet plan when we get to Beijing, you have full permission to remind me of this very moment; feel free to dunk my head into some hot pot or something. I’d honestly deserve it...”
Trailing off, Viktor paused to take a deep breath, feeling thick simmering thickly under his skin.
“...given what an utterly ignorant coach I’ve been.”
Yuri didn’t nod, but he also didn’t try to contradict him, which he was glad for. The last thing he wanted was for him to have to worry about his feelings. He had been careless towards him, and needed to hold himself accountable for it. Still, Viktor was thankful that Yuuri was present for this heart-to-heart. Tears pooled in his eyes, and as they began to fall, his husband wrapped his arms around him.
The comfort spurred him on.
“You’ve been hurting, and I didn’t even realize how deeply it ran,” Viktor said, quietly, wiping at his cheeks. “Taku and I both saw how you were putting so much pressure on yourself the last few months, but we just thought that was about your wanting to perform the way you know you can. I should have made the connection to Nikolai…”
Yuri looked down, his mouth a grave line.
“I don’t have an excuse for my neglect,” Viktor went on, with feeling.
“Love, you’re being really hard on yourself,” Yuuri interjected, his voice soft. “You’ve had a lot to deal with, not just with skat–”
“No, Yuranya,” Viktor cut in, firmly, but choosing to soften his counter with the pet name.
While he was appreciative of his spouse’s protectiveness, he didn’t feel he deserved it.
“If anything, I’m being too easy on myself.”
He swallowed loudly before meeting Yuri’s eyes and carrying on.
“I’ve been stretching myself too thin, and I’m sorry I’ve been so late to pick up on it. I would never regret giving my Yuuri the support he needs, but in the process of attending to us, I’ve neglected you. And, if I’m laying all my cards out on the table, I’ve probably been a pretty crap assistant coach to Izumi, too, lately. Akihito hasn’t said anything but he definitely wouldn’t be out of bounds to.”
With a rueful smile and quick glance at both of his skaters, he continued.
“Let’s be honest, though, unlike certain other individuals who are much more practiced in calling me on my bullshit, I think Izumi’s hero worship allows her to let me off the hook far more than she should. All that ‘Viktor-sensei’ business, and whatnot.”
Yuri snorted. At Viktor’s raised eyebrows, he pinned him to the spot with a defiant stare.
“I wouldn’t worry about that too much, old man,” he said, scathingly. “All it took was one instance of you skating into the boards because you were too busy staring at Katsudon’s ass, and Izumi’s fangirling ended pretty damn quick.”
He felt Yuuri laugh into his shoulder and resisted the urge to pout.
“Though that happens rarely,” he replied, pointedly, raising his voice over Yuri’s rebuttal of “try twice a week, you pervert!”, “what I’m trying to get at is that you’ve deserved far better than I’ve given recently. I’ve been too distracted to check in with you about how you’ve been truly feeling, and I’m so, so sorry for that. I want to do better, and at the same time, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that this is something of a pattern with me. I may be a better coach than I was 6 years ago…”
Trailing off, Viktor gave his husband’s head a small nudge before continuing.
“...but I still fall into the trap of thinking I can be everything to everyone, and I know I need to get better at recognizing when I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I may not be a competitive skater any longer, but I’m still as obstinate as I’ve ever been, so I will work to change. That’s a promise.”
Yuri opened his mouth as if to respond, but Viktor knew he had one last crucial point to make, and forged ahead.
“There are very few things that I can say that I’m certain of.”
He looked to Yuuri, and when his love’s eyes met his own, he allowed himself to get lost in their warmth for a moment, gold flecks and all.
“I’m certain that meeting Yuuri saved my life, and made it bigger than I ever could have imagined,” he continued, feeling himself melt at the shy smile that spread across his Yusha’s face at the words.
He turned his head back to look at Yuri.
“I’m certain that poodles are the closest thing we get to heaven on Earth.”
Yuri raised his eyebrows. “I’m certain that I’m 90 percent of the reason for Yakov’s hypertension– ”
“Alright, geezer,” Yuri cut in, a bit irritably, “is there a point– ”, but Viktor went on, louder than before. “ – and finally, I am also certain that regardless of what happens in Beijing, Nikolai Plisetsky, were he alive to see it, would be unwaveringly proud of you.”
His student's eyes begin to glisten, and Viktor forced himself not to look away.
“You didn’t let Yakov, or Russia, or anyone down at PyeongChang, and you certainly didn’t let him down,” he continued, fiercely. “I should have told you that four years ago, and if I never did, I am truly, truly sorry. After everything that happened, I wasn’t at my best, either.”
Yuri looked down, and Viktor saw a few tears glance off of his face.
“You were Nikolai’s entire universe, Yura, and you were also a kid who felt bad about a performance and allowed his wise grandfather to comfort him, as wise grandfathers do. Your wanting to believe his words and find strength in them doesn’t make you stupid,” he said, his voice slightly choked.
Viktor felt Yuuri’s arms tighten around him, and was grateful for the soft kiss he pressed to his cheek.
"All he ever wanted was for you to be happy and fulfilled, and I think it would tear him apart if he knew you were carrying this misplaced sense of guilt, as if you owed him an Olympic medal and couldn’t give that to him before he died. You don’t have to carry that weight anymore.”
Yuri gave a long exhale and wiped at his eyes.
“Free yourself,” Viktor continued, quietly. “He always loved your jumps. Let go of your guilt and every time you jump in Beijing, let yourself be light, knowing how happy he’d be to see you do what you love.”
Finally having said everything he wanted to, Viktor wanted nothing more than to embrace Yuri so he wouldn’t have to face his reaction to his clumsy, insufficient words. But he owed it to him to be brave, so he kept his gaze fixed ahead until Yuri was ready to acknowledge him.
Yuri was silent for several moments, but then suddenly screwed his eyes shut and brought his hands up to his face once more. Viktor guessed he might have burst into tears again, but instead he exhaled heavily, lowering his hands.
“That was a lot better than I was expecting, old man,” he said, voice surprisingly steady. “You might even be right about some of it.”
And with that, he reached out to lightly squeeze his shoulder before hurrying away.
Viktor blinked after him, nonplussed.
He wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction he’d been expecting, but it had involved a lot more scoffing and sighing, maybe some mild name-calling. Feeling like he’d missed a step going down the stairs, he looked to his spouse.
“Was that– ”, Viktor began, but his would-be verbal ruminations were interrupted by warm lips pressing against his own.
He felt Yuuri’s hands reach up to cup either side of his face, and found that the time for questioning could wait.
Instead, Viktor allowed himself to sink fully into the moment, melting into the bliss that kissing his husband always provided. Their tongues tangled in the expertly coordinated rhythm that characterized so much of their lives on and off the ice, and he felt warmth begin to suffuse his entire body. Standing there in their own clandestine haven, he and Yuuri were content to ignore everything around them for the feel of the other’s soft mouth and steady arms.
Every now and then, Viktor felt the tug of teeth on his bottom lip, and sighed happily into the firm pressure.
At some point, he felt his back collide with a hard surface, and realized that he had been pushed up against the barrier separating their wall nook from the rest of the boarding gate area. Yuuri’s kisses became even more insistent, and Viktor gave a very audible shiver of delight.
Hell yes.
Having been together for over five years, it was by now a very well-documented fact in their relationship that Yuuri taking charge had the power to render him a near-instantaneous mess. His husband was aware, relishing in the hold he had over him, and Viktor, in turn, loved that he loved it; every time he observed his Yusha fully wielding his innate magnetism and eros, it took his breath away.
Humming contentedly against his lips, Viktor suddenly realized that they were entirely hidden from view of fellow passengers, curious fans, and their friends and colleagues. Feeling blessed by the opportunity that had presented itself, he opted to move his hands from their perch on Yuuri’s hips to begin kneading at his immaculate, highly-squeezable ass. This, unfortunately, put a hasty stop to the skillful job his love had been doing, sucking on his tongue.
With a loud squeak, Yuuri shoved his hands all the way up his sweater, beginning to tickle his armpits furiously.
“Nooooo!! Yusha, stoppppp!”
In between fits of laughter, Viktor managed to grab both of Yuuri’s hands in one of his own, his other shoving against his chest to create some separation between their bodies. His spouse pouted at him, expertly weaponizing his doe-eyed gaze.
“Vitya,” he whined. “Why am I the one with my hands captured when you’re the one who introduced ass-grabbing into our completely innocent, not at all premeditated make-out session?”
Viktor grinned.
“Not at all premeditated, huh?” he purred, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s nose before continuing. “So this delightful ambush has nothing to do with that…‘download’ you were planning on giving me earlier?”
On the word ‘download’, he very deliberately let his gaze settle on his husband’s crotch, wanting to leave him with absolutely no doubts as to what he was actually trying to ask.
Yuuri burst out laughing at that, throwing his head back in a way that made Viktor supremely thankful for the opportunity to stare at the mesmerizing column of his throat.
“Oh my godddd, Vitya, that totally puts a whole new spin on the phrase ‘dicked down’,” his love managed to get out, which then sent him into his own laughing fit.
Releasing the hands in his grip, Viktor sunk down to the floor, finding that he didn’t have the energy to stand, laugh, and talk at the same time.
“And you came after me for wordplay, but look where we’re at!” he wheezed, lowering his head to his knees. “My question wasn’t a set-up, I was genuinely asking!”
With his gaze fixed on his own lap he didn’t see the way that Yuuri also dropped to the floor, only realizing it when he felt his knees being pushed apart, gently, and came face-to-face with him kneeling in the part of his legs.
“It’s true that I did come after you, but I could come before you, depending on your level of effort,” his husband quipped with a wink, sending Viktor’s jaw to the floor. All things considered, he recovered rather quickly.
“God, I love you,” he said fervently, to which Yuuri laughed again and leaned in, nuzzling their noses together.
“I love you, too, baby,” he replied in a whisper, with so much tenderness in his voice that his stomach literally swooped to hear it. “And, as for your question earlier about my ambush…while I’m certainly not ready to give up on our bet, I was actually just extremely turned on from seeing the way you handled the situation with Yura.”
Viktor’s confusion must have shown on his face, because Yuuri gave him a doting smile in response.
“Sometimes I can’t believe that my Viten’ka is the same man who once told me in a parking garage in Beijing that he’s not good with people crying in front of him,” Yuuri said, his eyes beginning to shine. “You’d never know it from the way you were with him, just now. You were incredible, anata,” he went on, with arresting sincerity.
“I know you feel bad about not paying more attention to him these last few months, but you put your shame aside to prioritize his feelings. You took accountability and were so assertive, and compassionate.”
His spouse paused, biting his lip, and when he continued, his voice sounded a bit breathy.
“Seeing you like that, it was sexy as hell.”
Viktor blinked.
For a second, he thought Yuuri was joking around with him like before, but just a quick look at his eyes revealed a desire of such potency that it made him feel slightly dizzy. His blood felt like it was singing in his veins from his husband’s praise, and he preened, possessively, at the fact that he alone got to wake up next to this incredible man every morning.
There were many things he could have said in response – in fact, there couldn’t have been a better segue for him to bring up some of the things he’d wanted to share from his last therapy session – but sometimes, a verbal response isn’t needed.
Hastening to leave as little space as possible between them, Viktor tugged Yuuri onto his lap, delighting in the look of surprise that crossed his face when he registered it. Without missing a beat, he moved his hands to crest over the jut of his hips, and moved his mouth to hungrily meet its perfect match. The soft moan that he swallowed from his lips seemed to reverberate throughout his entire body, and all too soon, Viktor began to feel a very insistent tightening in his jeans. This only increased when Yuuri gently slid both hands into his hair and grazed his fingernails across his scalp.
“God,” Viktor breathed, turning his mouth away just a little bit to catch his breath.
But his spouse didn’t let this deter him.
He began to plant tiny kisses all over his face; on the bridge of Viktor's nose, on the apples of his cheeks, on the rounded edge of his chin. When he dropped ticklish kisses to his eyelids, he began to giggle, wondering why the hell he had been so worried about missing their flight in the first place…
Surely they could just find another one to take later?
Preferably much later, as kissing and being kissed by Yuuri was a way higher priority. No, not just a priority…that word seemed entirely too impermanent; it was a vocation. The only mandate for the rest of his life, if Viktor had his way.
Sadly, not everyone seemed to appreciate this benevolent mission, a truth he was rudely reminded of when he felt a sharp jab to his side, and yelped, nearly sending his husband toppling from his lap.
With a joint chorus of whines and whimpers, he and Yuuri were hauled up to their feet, and unceremoniously dragged by their ears for a number of feet before Yuri decided to take pity on them. Like the world’s grumpiest shepherd, he began to follow behind them, pushing them along with loud footfalls in the direction of their boarding gate.
As he massaged his side, Viktor could hear Yuri muttering darkly all the while about how the two of them must actually be horny teenagers in disguise, and smirked. As he and Yuuri neared their seats while grumbling about life’s injustices, he caught Mari and Amara’s amused glances, and grinned and waved at them. A sudden ping from his phone drew his attention, and he barked out a laugh before quickly typing out his reply.
Beside him, Yuuri yawned and nuzzled into his neck as they dropped back into their original spots. “What’s so funny, Любимый13?” he asked, in a murmur.
“Your sister,” Viktor cheekily replied, angling his phone screen towards him.
Brow furrowed, Yuuri began to read over his shoulder and then, with a loud squeak of “Nēchan14!”, whipped his own phone out and began texting feverishly.
Viktor presumed he was scolding her for being nosy and laid down, putting his head in his love's lap. As they continued to wait for their boarding announcement, his mind drifted, thinking back on a similarly eventful kickoff to their pre-Olympic travel exactly 4 years ago…
End of Chapter 1.
Up Next: In Chapter 2, we flash back to 4 years ago, as Yuuri, Viktor, and the rest of the St. Petersburg crew gear up for travel to Pyeongchang, South Korea for the 2018 Olympic Games. The next one will be a Yuuri point-of-view chapter
Footnotes:
1. As a reminder, grade of execution (GOE) in figure skating scoring is a number between +5 and -5 that judges/technical panel members assign to the elements of a program, depending on how well the skater is able to perform them. GOE used to be on a +/- 3 scale, but this changed beginning with the 2018-2019 skating season. Back
2. ‘Anata’ is a Japanese term of endearment typically used by wives for their husbands, but I headcanon that Yuuri and Viktor would think it cute to use it to refer to one another, especially once Viktor hears Hiroko use it for Toshiya, and Yuuko use it for Takeshi. Back
3. Here, Viktor is calling Yuuri “my little cutlet”. Latinized, this is: ‘moya kotleta malien’kij’. Note, the ‘моя’ actually signifies a female-gendered endearment, but given that neither of them care too much about sticking to very rigid delineations around gender, they have grown to be pretty flexible with their use of various pet names, especially when Viktor wishes to be addressed with she/her/hers pronouns, or is in more of a feminine gender expression mindsetBack
4. Russian term of endearment (gendered male), latinized as ‘miliy moy’, and translating to “my darling” or “loved one”. These two love using various pet names for one another. Back
5. Japanese festival that occurs around New Years’, also known as Nanakusa-no-sekku – the Feast of Seven Herbs – from the custom of eating seven-herb kayu (nanakusa-gayu) to ensure good health and to ward off evil spirits in the coming year. It is usually celebrated on the 7th day of January. Back
6. This is a more endearing version of Viktor’s standard diminutive, ‘Vitya’, which Yuuri will use if he’s joking around, or if they’re having a particularly emotional conversation. Yuuri’s standard diminutive in Russian would be ‘Yusha’, but Viktor likes to call him the more endearing ‘Yuranya’ at times. In dialogue, they both refer to Yuri Plisetsky as 'Yura' Back
7. Russian term of endearment for a loved one (this version is gendered male), translating to “bunny”, and latinized as zai-cho-nak. Back
8. ‘Kochi’ (which literally translates to coach in Japanese) is an honorific that is the preferred term for addressing one’s coach. Given Yuuri’s relationship with Viktor and Yuri’s general disposition, I doubt either of them would be in the practice of addressing Viktor this way, but they’d likely use this for other staff at Papio (the rink where they train). Back
9. ‘Itamae’ is another Japanese honorific that is based on one’s profession, this time, used for a professional chef. Back
10. FFKKR is the acronym used for the Figure Skating Federation of Russia, the national governing body of figure skating in Russia. The federation plays a prominent role in this story Back
11. This story will contain a lot of references to mental health (and, by extension, therapy), as I’m a big believer in not only prioritizing it, but changing the way we collectively think about it. I’ve seen a lot of stories (not even just on ao3) that somewhat problematically make it seem like love is supposed to solve all of one’s problems, and not only is this just not true, it’s also an unfair expectation to put on our loved ones Back
12. Certain events that took place at the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympic Games (as well as their aftermath) factor heavily in this story, and you’ll see a few more references to this before I touch on the actual events that happened (in Chapter 4). I promise, the reveal will be worth it! Back
13. Russian term of endearment for a loved one (this version is gendered male), latinized as Lu-bi-mij, meaning “my love”. Back
14. Another Japanese honorific, translating to “older sister” when used by the younger sibling in the family; note that there are different honorifics for when referring to one’s own family, versus speaking about someone else’s. In general, within a family, a younger sibling will use an honorific for the elder sibling, whereas the elder sibling would just call the younger by name Back