Chapter Text
Viktor will be lucky if he’s able to scrape his jaw off the floor at the kiss and cry.
Figuratively. He’s on camera. He’ll look smug and pleased and definitely not like he’s ready to burst any second until he can get a moment alone to properly freak out.
“That’s just unfair,” he murmurs into Yuuri’s ear as reality sinks in. “Do you know you’re playing with my heart?”
Yuuri is still sniffling a little bit, his body ready to crumple under its own weight. He pushed his limits beyond anything Viktor has ever seen from him. “Might be,” he manages. “Vitya, can you hold her? I can’t…”
“—suki Yuuri starting off the men’s singles event by breaking his coach’s world record for highest score in a free skate event.”
221.58. It’s a world record. All of a sudden, like that, Yuuri, his Yuuri, single parent, transmasculine Yuuri, is a world record holder.
And he’s wearing it all over his face.
It’s a dare, and Viktor knows it, and yet his fiancé is being all too coy about keeping his answer until after the victory ceremony.
The kiss and cry is an absolute mess of hugs and snuggles and squished cheeks as they hold Eri between them and bask in the uproar that hasn’t died down since they announced Yuuri’s score. There’s a wall of friends hovering in their periphery, all except for Phichit, who Yuuri squints after closely as he takes the ice himself.
“Vitya, glasses, glasses, glasses,” Yuuri stammers as Terra Incognita begins to blare. Viktor loves the program music. It brings out so much of Phichit’s personality, his background, and his spirit. Yuuri has ensured him more than once that he wouldn’t be quite so fond of the piece if he’d had a best friend force him through The King and the Skater II as many times as Phichit has.
Phichit is still a remarkable force. Viktor can’t believe how fluidly he incorporates Thai dance into his piece. It’s a breath of fresh air to see a skater who brings anything new to this sport, to be honest. He’s loved what he’s seen all season.
It’s bizarre, having people he actually sort of cares about in competition. Of course, he’s been friends with Chris for years, but it’s always felt like him and Chris… no one else. It was always fingers crossed to make it into just one qualifier with him until it was a given they’d be together in the finals and Worlds.
He knows Yuuri will stay close enough to the kiss and cry to greet his friend when he’s finished. And honestly, Viktor is excited to greet Phichit as well. He’s certainly giving Yuuri a run for his money, even if he isn’t pulling out any back-pocket quads for the finals. He’s young. He’s driven. Viktor hopes that someday soon they’ll be calling one another ‘friend’.
Phichit scores lower than Yuuri, but his overall score still puts him pretty high in the rankings. The kiss and cry is, once again, a mess of tears and screaming that Coach Cialdini looks all too used to by now. It’s clear, the way Yuuri is hovering at the side of the backdrop, that he’d be clinging relentlessly to his best friend if he could, and he does just that once the press settles and Phichit is released back into the world. Celestino takes Yuuri under his arm as they walk back towards the lockers. Viktor never knew too much about Yuuri’s relationship with his old coach. The way Yuuri talked about his past career, it always seemed like they weren’t a good match. But the pride is clear in the coach’s eyes today, and even though Viktor can’t hear what he’s saying, he can tell Yuuri is proud too.
Viktor sticks around to watch Christophe skate. It’s sad how jealous he is that Yuuri is competing against him. Viktor misses the buzz of watching his friend skate, just as excited for their high scores as he is for his own. He and Chris have shared the podium a number of times. It’s always a blast when they’re together for press and publicity. He really does miss it.
Still holding Eri, and letting the realization sink in that he hasn’t been beckoned along because he’s still technically on his own for the day, Viktor decides to give his fiancé some space to celebrate with the others who care for him. He takes the baby back to the lounge and sets up like he always does, sprawled out on the floor even in his suit so that she can crawl all over him while he works. Registration for Nationals is going to be a nightmare after almost an entire year off, but he’s pretty sure he’s still got Yakov on his side. He starts Yuuri’s registration for the rink as well, just in case those program changes mean what he thinks they mean. He doesn’t let himself get hopeful, of course. He knows Yuuri will never quit defying his expectations for as long as they both live. It’s strange, yesterday these things were so difficult. Today, the ability to push on is a relief.
He hates admitting that Yuuri’s request for space is a relief. But in all honesty, it has lifted a weight off of Viktor’s shoulders that he probably wouldn’t have noticed was even there. He’s been doing that thing again, losing himself in the competition season and being neglectful in the process. He didn’t realize how much of a break he needed until now. Lounging with Eri on the floor is doing him just right.
The buzz of his cell phone against his thigh makes him jump, which makes Eri giggle. Viktor answers the phone, giggling himself.
“This is Viktor.”
“Vitya, put me on with Yuuri, I want to speak to him.” Nikolai’s voice is cheerful and classically tipsy. It’s clear from background noise that the kids are still up—Viktor can make out a few well-wishes from the girls and general funny business from Vova. His giggle rolls out into a full-blown laugh.
“Papa, he’s busy! The event isn’t even over. He’ll be hounded by reporters for breaking my record.”
Nikolai chuckles. “That boy makes me proud, just like you do. Oh? Oh! Maks wants to say hello.”
There’s some commotion as the phone is jostled around, and then the sounds of Maks’ breathing too close into the microphone, Nikolai encouraging him in the background.
“Maksimochka, is that you?” Viktor asks after a moment.
“Viktor… Viktor is coming back home!” Maks demands seriously.
Viktor laughs again. “Perhaps soon, little bear,” he soothes. “Did you watch Yuuri Katsuki on the TV?”
“Yep. I saw Eri.”
“She’s here, too,” Viktor says, melting at the boy’s soft little voice. “I miss you and all the kids and Yura,” he says sweetly. “Can I talk to Tonya?”
He listens as the phone is passed around, greeting all the children, doing his best to answer all the little, rapid-fire questions being thrown his way.
“Yuri says Yuuri Katsuki is coming to Russia! Is he gonna be Russian now?”
“Where will Eri stay?”
“She can have my bed!”
The call is exactly what he’s been needing to break the tension, even after everything leading up to today was shattered by Yuuri’s near-perfect free. At the end of the day, he still has his family. Little Maks is crying in the background—Viktor can hardly string two words together to talk to Yuri because the sound is so heartbreaking and distracting.
“Yakov said… damn.” He sighs, clutching Eri a little tighter to his side to compensate.
“I can just text you, you idiot,” Yuri said. “Papa, let Viktor talk to Maks, he’s getting emotional over here.”
“Yura, don’t tell lies.”
“I’m not!” Yuri sniggers. “Check your texts. Wait! No, I’ll text Yuuri.”
Viktor’s stomach drops. What does his brother have to say that he’d go straight to… had he seen some of the press footage from this morning? They’d looked such a mess together on their commute in, puffy-eyed and awkward and so clearly avoiding the reporters. Yuri is no idiot. In fact, he’s the brightest kid Viktor knows, even if he never finds the words to articulate it. If anyone could pick out conflict and corner him about it later, it would be that little brat.
Viktor misses home. The children. He goes back to soothing an anxious Maks once he realizes he’s already too late to change his brother’s mind. He doesn’t think he could ever tire of his little bear. He loves that boy so much and he spends too much time grieving the gaps in their time together, during which the toddler only grows and changes and leaves Viktor further behind.
“You be strong, okay? You take care of Papa for me, and make sure he doesn’t eat too many sweets.”
“Papa, no sweets!” Maks giggles, and Viktor’s molten liquid heart spills out onto the floor in front of him.
“And tell him to put you kids to bed!” Viktor orders. There are all sorts of sniffles and kissy noises and Nikolai’s kind thanks and congratulations, and then Viktor is left to the relative silence of the lounge once more.
He’s going to have to start video calling them more. With Yuuri and Eri, too. God, if he could, he’d bring them with him, or move Yakov’s rink out to Moscow, anything that would allow him to enjoy the best of both worlds. He loves his home away from home, complete with the chaotic, warm, loving atmosphere he grew up with. But at the same time, he loves the opportunity to create his own warm, loving home. He’s starting to see it come into formation, and he loves it.
If he could change anything at all, it would be to bring Maksim with him everywhere he went, the way Yuuri does with Eri, and to share the world with that funny, unshakable little child. He wants a little boy. Not that Eri isn’t his entire heart and more, it’s just… There’s something about his funny little ways. He’s so unlike the rambunctious little bundle of bubbles and laughter that is Yuuri’s daughter. Maks is more reserved, more private even as a little one, so clearly thinking away as he sits and plays. He’s so well-spoken for a kid his age, even though he barely spoke at all until after his third birthday. One day, something bloomed from him, and Viktor’s constant worry broke into something so much more dear.
He’s dancing around a thought—one he’s pretty sure he’s not allowed to consider yet, one that is so much more than he’d be ready to breach with Yuuri. But that thought isn’t going to leave his head anytime soon. Hopefully returning to training will knock some sense into him, just as Yakov says.
Eventually, Yuuri pokes his head into the lounge and beckons Viktor out for the final skater. The standings are looking good. Yuuri is still in the lead, Christophe second, and Phichit is defending the third place on the podium. All they have left to contend against is Jean Jacques Leroy.
He’s been a big name for a year or two now, far bigger than Yuuri even with all the controversy this season has stirred. Viktor has shared the podium with JJ before. He’s got a lot of hot air and good publicity on his side. His parents paved the way for a promising career—Viktor can remember many evenings at home watching Nathalie and Allain in the ice dance events on TV. He never thought he’d be up against their kid, though. He’s got his parents’ winning smile and immovable presence as he does his first lap, waving and gesturing pompously out toward the crowd.
There’s a little tchk , the boy’s toe pick sticking into the ice and catching him off balance for just a moment as he gets into position, and then the music starts.
But JJ does not.
A murmur rumbles through the crowd. Viktor can hear Allain from the boards, shouting at his son to snap out of it, and then with a frenzied look the kid snaps back into focus and begins his routine. It’s a rocky start, especially when the program music is so grandiose and majestic. It doesn’t blend well with the image of a young man scrambling to keep up.
“Oh god, he’s choking up,” Yuuri murmurs, Eri bouncing gleefully in his lap. “He has a pretty steep gap to fill… he’s… he’s nervous.” He spins around and looks wildly up at Viktor. “Have you ever seen him nervous?”
It’s uncouth to laugh. It’s beyond any ounce of etiquette pounded into him by Lilia. But after all that’s happened, this might as well, too. And so Viktor laughs. He at least has the decency to hide his face behind his hands, to bite his lip to avoid being heard, but he laughs all the same.
“Even the King gets nervous, Yuuri,” he sighs, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with his fingertips. “You, me, him, we’re all just…”
There’s a sharp gasp all around them as the triple in JJ’s combo is downgraded to a single. He’s so out of it, it’s hard to look away. Viktor can’t remember what he was about to say. This isn’t even enjoyable to watch, it’s just…
“It’s just so typical,” he murmurs.
“Okay, Mr. Five-Consecutive-International-Golds,” Yuuri scoffs. He gets to his feet, Eri swinging in his arms, and makes for the stairs. “Are you going to come cheer him on with me, or what?”
In the end, JJ doesn’t do entirely terribly. He manages to find his bearings before the second half and pulls off a very impressive quad loop right at the end of his program, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Viktor sees the determination in this arrogant kid that he’s seen in Yuuri’s eyes every time he’s pulled off a perfect program. The force of spirit in his competitors is so strong—it’s remarkably life-bringing. He’s certain he remembers competitions being draining rather than fun, repetitive rather than challenging, but he doesn’t see that now. He wants to know where he stands, and he wants to feel the swell of determination as he propels himself toward the end of a difficult program. He hopes he can share that feeling with Yuuri. He hopes this particular, proad coaching feeling doesn’t have to go away.
There ought to be a lot more tension in Viktor’s gut, considering this roller coaster of a skate could make or break Yuuri’s first big gold. But as the two huddle around Eri, waiting to hear the final scores, Viktor can’t help but notice his fiancé’s easy demeanor, loose and happy if not a little impatient in anticipation of the news. Eri is nothing if not used to this by now. She’s not even fussy, contentedly lounging half in Yuuri’s arms and half in Viktor’s, pulling the zipper of Yuuri’s team jacket up and down with a look of subtle concentration.
“Nervous?” Viktor fiddles with the side seams of Yuuri’s costume, half-aware he hasn’t been this worried about the final scores in years.
Yuuri gives a little smirk. “Are you?” he asks. “That’s ok, it’s your first time.”
“What has you so confident?” Viktor pouts. “I’m supposed to be comforting and cheering you on, you know.”
“He won,” Yuuri says simply, his gaze drifting over to the kiss and cry. “His short was near-perfect and that last quad had everyone all fired up.” His smile is certainly a little wistful and a lot exhausted, but Viktor can’t find a trace of the self-criticism and dampened spirit that Yuuri usually demonstrates when he hasn’t met his goal.
Speechless for a moment and trying desperately to run some quick calculations in his head, Viktor just stares dumbly as Yuuri laughs at him.
“You’ve never had to do the math before, have you?”
JJ’s score is announced; just as Yuuri predicted, he’s pulled a good ten or so points ahead, but that still leaves Yuuri with silver, having scored just ahead of Christophe.
“I could have retired if I’d won gold,” Yuuri says, frowning slightly. “I should have thought about that, I guess. Oh well, I’ll have to do better next year.”
Next year.
The words ring louder than the score that secured Yuuri’s place on the podium. Louder than the cheering crowd. They’re all Viktor can hear as he squishes a giggling Eri yet again to get to Yuuri’s lips, kissing him with little regard for who is watching or filming or anything. He isn’t sure if his face is wet from Yuuri’s tears or his own. He doesn’t care.
“Don’t you dare feel like you owe me gold,” he says, suddenly pulling back. “I talked about it a lot, but it was only to make sure you knew I believed you could do it.”
“I know, Vitya, I know,” Yuuri laughs. “It turns out I want it pretty badly. It took me a while to figure that out.”
Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Weird, I knew from day one,” he mutters, earning a kick in the shin. “Hey! You’re going to have to do all the lifts tomorrow if you aren’t careful!”
“Poor me, I’d hate to show the world you love me for my strong, manly arms,” Yuuri deadpans, giving Viktor a squeeze for emphasis.
“Not just your strong, manly arms, for the record, although they don’t hurt your case.”
The noise finally starts to get to Eri, so they retreat to the lounge to calm her before the victory ceremony.
“Oh, Yurio texted,” Yuuri says, lacing up his skates as congratulations and well-wishes start pouring in. Viktor does his best not to hover, instead opting to change Eri and gather her things for a quick exit. “He… oh.”
Viktor freezes. “‘Oh’? What’s ‘oh’?”
“Hang on,” Yuuri mutters, typing away furiously, stopping occasionally to swipe away messages or to gaze into the middle distance, apparently lost in thought. “Could it? I suppose we could… of course, it was going to be… No, that might not work…”
Viktor zips up Eri’s onesie. “Papa’s keeping secrets, Erichka,” he murmurs.
“Yep,” Yuuri mumbles, still typing.
“Are you going to tell me what they are?” Viktor asks coyly.
“One day,” Yuuri answers. “If the ceremony doesn’t start soon, I’m going to collapse on the podium. Is Eri ready to go?”
Viktor lifts Eri high, her little body held up by her grip on his thumbs, before tucking her into the sling draped around his neck. “Ready, Erichka?”
“Dee richika?” Eri echoes with a giggle. “Dee richa? Eddy rikka?”
“Silly,” Yuuri says softly, planting a kiss on the top of her head as he takes Viktor’s hand. “Ikuzo.”
The victory ceremony is Viktor’s least favorite part of the competition, if he’s being honest. It isn’t like he doesn’t believe the skaters should be celebrated for their hard work and sportsmanship, but for Viktor the ceremonies have always been an impossible obstacle course of appearances and obligations. After a while, his empty shell took over and his soul would just go back to the hotel until he was done. Wins weren’t wins anymore. ‘Viktor’ felt like nothing without the ‘Nikiforov, five-time World Champion’ pinned on at the end.
But tonight is different, as it has been from most nights in Viktor’s life. Tonight, Yuuri is shining. Viktor can practically hear Minako’s voice above the rest of the crowd, screaming her pride and adoration for her best student and protégé. Underneath his title of coach, he’s right there with her, his insides dancing and tingling with unspoken excitement.
Eri, however, is not excited. Eri has finally had enough, and the crowd is enough to have her agitated and cranky by the time the lights dim.
“I’ll be back soon,” Yuuri says, the hint of nerves behind his smile a relief. Viktor was worried for a bit that he’d created a monster.
When his name is announced, he does a beautiful little improvised lap around the ice before taking his place at JJ’s side. Viktor can hardly appreciate it, however, because he’s got a screaming child in his arms.
“Papa! No, Papa!”
The irony isn’t lost on him that it’s the first time in months Eri’s begged him for her dad. It’s usually the other way around. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t leave; that’s out of the question, and he doesn’t have a way to make the arena quieter—they really do love Yuuri, and their cheers reflect that.
“Soon, baby girl, soon,” he croons, humming what he can remember of her favorite lullaby. “When I’m restless and cannot sleep…”
“Oh, just give her to me.”
Viktor looks up to find Christophe holding out his arms expectantly, a sympathetic grin plastered across his face.
“What?” Viktor says, blinking.
“I’ll take her to Daddy, and you can have some relief and enjoy your eye candy, and we’ll all get some good press out of the whole thing,” Chris says as his name is announced. “Come on, quick.”
“You’re amazing,” Viktor mutters, pulling Eri out of her sling. “I owe you three bottles of that Lambrusco we had in Busseto.”
Chris throws a wink over his shoulder, then skates off with Eri, surrendering his chance at a victory lap in favor of bringing the baby straight to her father on the podium. The crowd loses their minds, and Viktor thinks he might do the same, it’s so adorable. Eri climbs into Yuuri’s arms and slathers his face in kisses before snuggling close to his chest.
It’s a historic day in figure skating, Viktor thinks as he watches Yuuri rock and soothe his daughter from second place. It’s exactly as it should be, too. Eri has been with Yuuri every step of the way for the last two years. Viktor will get his turn up there with him soon enough, but tonight is for her.
“You two will give me a heart attack before you see your next medal,” comes Yakov’s voice over his shoulder. “I’ve had Mila clean out the old nursery. I’ll be hiring childcare staff for the upcoming season.”
“Really?” Viktor spins around, stopping himself with his hands on his coach’s shoulders even as he’s met with an exasperated glower. “Yakov, you really are the only coach for me!”
“I’m the only coach who will put up with you,” Yakov corrects. “I hope you’ve finished the paperwork from yesterday. It will be a crunch to get everything processed in time for Four Continents.”
Viktor frowns. “Yakov, I’ll be in Euros,” he puzzles.
“You hope you’ll be in Euros,” Yakov grits. “We’ll see if you’ve been really keeping up or sitting on your ass all season. Your fiancé, however, could easily win Four Continents if he doesn’t have an episode like yesterday.”
“Yuuri’s in?” Viktor breathes, watching as father and daughter wave to their family from the podium. Yakov pats his shoulder with an amused snort.
“He was always in, idiot boy,” he chuckles. “Nikolai would have my head if he wasn’t, and you know it. He’s already called me once today. I’ll have you put on faculty if you’re really serious about attempting this. It will be interesting to see how you fare.”
Viktor isn’t one to cry. Viktor hates to cry. Life with Yuuri has had Viktor crying tears of joy, pain, worry, anger, everything all in the past year. He never thought he’d be here, throwing his arms around his coach with throat tight and heart full to bursting, squeaking out innumerable thanks while the crowd around him directs their enthusiastic attention towards… not him, for once. No, even with JJ up on the highest pedestal, this is Yuuri’s moment, and Eri’s with him, and no one has Viktor in mind at all.
He’s happy to let that happen for now. Next year, though? People had better have him in mind when he and Yuuri are a fraction of a point from one another, gunning for that highest acclaim. But even then, it won’t be ‘Viktor’s Yuuri’. If anything, he hopes they’re known as Yuuri and his Viktor, the unbeatable team. Fierce rivals. Hopelessly in love. That’s so much more exciting than anything he’s had until now. And with Eri there? He can hardly keep himself calm, the surge of emotion that’s fluttering in his stomach has him struggling to exhale as he turns back to watch his fiancé shake hands with the ISU reps.
Yuuri’s medal doesn’t rest on his chest for long; before he can even get a photograph, it’s in Eri’s hands and then her mouth, despite the obvious chiding from her father. They’re beautiful. They’re everything Viktor has ever wanted. He chokes back another onset of tears, certain he’s due for another slough of unflattering press photos. Yuuri has done wonders for his publicity at the price of a bit of unpredictability. Once, Viktor was entirely in control of his public image. The sacrifices he’s made… well, they aren’t all that bad. Maybe he’s actually willing to share this side of himself with the world. Maybe it’ll change some things about his skating, too.
Yuuri’s face is bright red but lively and glowing as he brings Eri off the ice.
“Oh god, you look a mess,” he jokes. “Come on, get her to sleep while I talk to the press and I’ll order us some champagne for back in the hotel.”
A monster.
“Oh, well then,” Viktor laughs, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “You talk a big game, Katsuki. You’d think you won gold.”
“Oh no, you’ll know when I win gold.”
Eri stays in the stands with Minako and Mari for the Exhibition skate. Yuuri has been performing Stammi vicino as his exhibition skate all season, but this is the debut of their duetto routine. Viktor’s heart is racing as he waits at the entrance to the ice, his costume still hidden under his signature tan jacket.
He’s thrumming from head to toe. In a sense, this is nothing he hasn’t done before. But in a different, truer sense, this is like nothing he’s ever done in his life. The wait for his cue is like his entire life waiting for something like Yuuri to pull him out of himself, out into a world full of love and compromise and never-ending surprises.
Yuuri never stops with the twists and turns. He never lets up, and Viktor loves the challenge. He left for the center of the ice with a wink and a kiss on the cheek and a whisper low enough that only Viktor could hear:
“I’m going to marry you so hard after this.”
And Viktor is going to hold him to that. The only person besides Yuuri who knows he’s about to drop his coat and step out onto the ice is the light operator, and he cues in a lovely purple glow to beckon Viktor out.
This is basically a public announcement. Viktor is so excited to start surprising the world with Yuuri.
He steps out onto the ice, and a gasp travels through the crowd, followed by scattered, startled applause and a murmur of speculation and excitement.
Whatever this next season holds for them, Viktor is ready for it. Sharing the ice with Yuuri is nothing but pure excitement. Every step of their choreography has them reaching out for one another, just as Viktor hadn’t even realized he’d been doing when he developed the original program—he hadn’t realized, that is, until he saw Yuuri skate it for the first time from the tiny screen of his tablet less than a year ago. Every time they reach out, their fingertips brush, warm despite their chilly numbness, encouraging one another with gentle touches on the side, the arm, the face, until the enthusiastic audience fades away, leaving them alone together. Yuuri and Viktor on ice. Viktor can’t think of anything more beautiful in the world.
“Vitya, can you come here for a moment?”
Viktor looks up from the box he’s almost finished unpacking, a collection of toys and books and crib-sized bedding. It’s been one of the longest days of his life, beginning when their flight from Helsinki touched down in Pulkovo International Airport at three o’clock in the morning.
Eri is passed out in her playpen, exhausted from almost two days of travel, her little fist clasped tightly around Makkachin’s collar. The dog looks so happy to be home, curled protectively around her favorite little pup. Nationals have come and gone, and both men have acquired newly-won gold medals for their countries despite the fact that their coinciding competitions had them separated for almost an entire week.
Viktor crosses the luggage-filled apartment to where Yuuri is pouring over a stack of papers in the kitchen. “What is it, my love? I’ve already done your intake for the rink.”
A private little smile sweeps across Yuuri’s face for a moment. “No, this is something slightly different,” he murmurs, sliding two paperclipped packets across the kitchen island for Viktor to see.
Viktor looks the papers over, unsure what he’s reading. A few words stand out to him, words from each, words like ‘custody’ and ‘adopt’ and ‘legal guardian’. The two forms are different. If not for the fact that there are two of them, Viktor thinks he might understand what this is. But there’s something odd about the second form. Legal guardianship and custody of… who exactly? He shoots Yuuri a puzzled look over the top of the sheets.
“I guess this is as good a time as any to bring this up,” Yuuri says, glancing around the room nervously.
Viktor reaches out and squeezes his hand, waiting patiently as Yuuri finds his words.
“I want you to adopt Eri.”
He chances a look into Viktor’s eyes, exhausted and full of nervous excitement. “Obviously, it wouldn’t be right away… not until the wedding, at least, but…” he swallows, threading his fingers between Viktors and fiddling his thumb along his wrist. “I want her to have two fathers. And she loves you so much. You’ve become just like a father to her, you know, and…”
“Yes,” Viktor interrupts, practically climbing over the island and pulling Yuuri up to kiss his face. “Yes, Yuuri, that’s… Oh God...:”
His voice breaks, a whine that would have been embarrassing any other time, and lifts Yuuri completely up to sit on the countertop, pulling him in by his hips to kiss him properly, completely ignoring his own pathetic dribbling. “All I’ve ever wanted was to call this my family,” he whispers. “You, Erichka, Makka… Yuuri, if I lost everything else in my life, I’d still have everything I need right here with you.”
“Well,” Yuuri says, swallowing back his own emotions as he pries the papers out of Viktor’s hand. “You may still have more…”
Viktor pulls back, puzzled, and looks down at that other packet. “I was wondering.”
“I was supposed to ask you ages ago.”
“Ask me what, love?”
Yuuri stares at the papers for a moment, as if divining his response from their contents, before brushing a soft thumb along Viktor’s cheek. “Yakov is willing to coach Yurio,” he says slowly, giving Viktor enough time to keep up. “He says he’s ready to start juniors next season. But…”
“But…?” Viktor echoes softly.
“Well, Vitya, Moscow isn’t exactly close, is it?”
“So what? Yakov wants guardianship of Yura? He’ll have to go to Nikolai for that, that’s not something I can…”
“Yurio was hoping you would… since you’re family, at least… you could be his legal guardian here in Piter. He could live here with us.”
Viktor thinks back to the GPF, all the chatter over text between Yuuri and his brother. Would that really work?
“It would be a tight squeeze,” he mutters, reading over the paper again. “Where would he sleep? Where would Eri sleep?”
“We could do a little bit of renovating,” Yuuri suggests hopefully, glancing over at the unused bedroom that is supposed to become his daughter’s. “It could be just for now, until we find someplace bigger, I suppose.”
“Someplace bigger…” Viktor parrots. He remembers vaguely that he had his own aspirations of growing their little family too, not even a month ago, at the same time as Yuuri was plotting to bring young Yura into their home. “Someplace bigger might not be a bad idea.”
“He could help take care of Eri,” Yuuri presses. “It’d be one less mouth for Nikolai to feed. I know how much food he goes through.”
Viktor considers it, filling the silence with little pecks on his fiancé’s soft lips as he thinks, his fingers drumming into the small of his back. “You’re so hard to say no to,” he says finally, resting his cheek against Yuuri’s with an exaggerated sigh. “Especially when you have such good ideas.”
“I’m thinking that sounds like a yes,” Yuuri whispers, turning to kiss Viktor’s cheek. “Is that a yes?”
“I’d be heartless if it were a no,” Viktor admits. “You know, this time last year, this apartment was the loneliest place on earth?”
“It’s about to be anything but,” Yuuri says with a grin, brushing away the last hint of tears from Viktor’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Not until summer,” he promises. “After a wedding, and an adoption, and a honeymoon.”
“I think I like the sound of that,” Viktor hums.
“Yeah,” Yuuri sighs. The sprawling flat looks crowded and tiny with all of the boxes still left to unpack. Eri is starting to stir, kicking gently against Makkachin’s side and causing the dog to whine in confusion.
It looks nothing like how Viktor left it, cold and empty and chic, just like him.
Now, just like him, it’s full and warm, a perfect place to share, and he guesses that isn’t going to change anytime soon. It wasn’t the plan—it was never the plan, but if Yuuri has taught him anything, it’s that there isn’t always a place for plans in life and love. Sometimes you just have to roll with it. And if some beautiful, drunken stranger stumbles in and ruins everything, for better or for worse, sometimes you just have to roll with that, too.
For Viktor, it was everything he needed and more than he could have dreamed. Thanks to Yuuri and his beautiful, silly, incredible little girl, his life would never be the same. They’d ruined everything he thought he knew about himself, his life, and his career.
But he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I think we all need a break,” he murmurs, letting his head fall heavy onto Yuuri’s shoulder. “Shall we order some food and get this little one to bed?”
Yuuri’s smile is, once again, soft and reverent. Viktor can feel it against the curve of his jaw as Yuuri plays his fingers along the collar of his shirt.
“We get to just… we get to do this every day?” he asks breathlessly. “Me… you… Eri?”
“Forever,” Viktor promises, sitting up to lose himself in gorgeous amber eyes. “For as long as I live. Welcome home, my love.”
It’s going to be so good. It’s already better than anything Viktor has ever imagined.
They’re home.