Chapter Text
"Vicchan, get off your computer, I made dinner" Yuuri scolds.
Viktor scowls at the screen. "xX_tygrstrypes_Xx just outbid me, again," he whines.
"Vitya. Dinner."
Viktor pouts, glancing at the countdown. He has a good thirty minutes before bidding on the limited edition Katsuki Yuuri bronze statuette closed. He sets a timer for 28 minutes, determined to slide in a last minute bid before xX_tygrstrypes_Xx could retaliate. Viktor pockets his phone, sitting down at the table with three plates spread out, each bracketed by a bowl of white rice and miso soup. A plate of steaming shogayaki waits in the middle.
Yuuri knocks on the door of Yurio's the guest room. "Yurio, dinner's ready!" they call, answered by a series of irate shouts that only a teenager could make.
Yuuri ignores him, sitting down at the table. True to form, Yurio joins a minute later, shuffling out of his the guest room and joining Viktor and Yuuri at the table.
He sniffs the air. "What is this?"
"Ginger pork," Yuuri answers, doling out a few slices for everyone with chopsticks.
Yurio just hums, staring at the food like the pig is about come back to life and bite him. "Isn't this cannibalism for you?" he grumbles. Yuuri ignores him, carelessly dumping another slice on his plate.
"Itadakimasu!" Viktor chimes, bowing slightly.
Yuuri smiles. "Itadakimasu," they echo.
All eyes turn to Yurio. "Itadakimasu," he finally grumbles.
Sated, Yuuri and Viktor begin to dig in, while Yurio warily pokes at the meat on his plate. Yuuri pauses from sipping their soup, noting Yurio's lack of enthusiasm. "Is something wrong?" they ask. "Do you need a fork?"
"Nothing's wrong! I can you your damn chopsticks just fine!" Yurio bites.
He fumbles while trying to grab a slice of pork, having to balance it precariously on his chopsticks. He takes a bite to prove a point, the pork falling unceremoniously back to the plate.
"See?"
Yuuri goes back to sipping their soup. Viktor's timer goes off, and he whips his phone out, quickly pulling up eBay and submitting a new bid with a minute to spare. He smiles to himself smugly. Across the table, Yurio has abandoned his chopsticks in favor of thumbing through his phone. A minute passes, Viktor waiting for a confirmation email titling him the rightful owner of the Katsuki Yuuri figurine. He refreshes the page.
"What?!"
Yuuri jumps, spilling soup down their front. "Viktor!" they scold.
Somehow, xX_tygrstrypes_Xx had outbid him in the last ten seconds of the auction. "Get fucked, Viktor," Yurio grumbles from across the table, looking strangely smug.
Of course. "You!" Viktor shouts, pointing accusingly at Yurio. He nearly pokes the teen's eyes out in the process because Viktor's dining room table is not that big. "You little shit!"
"Viktor!" Yuuri scolds again. "Please don't threaten the minor."
"Yeah, Vitya, don't threaten me," Yurio sings glibly.
Yuuri turns to Yurio, frowning. "Don't encourage him."
Viktor just narrows his eyes. "This means war," he hisses under his breath.
"I heard that," Yuuri snaps.