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“Papa? Papa? Paaaapaaa?”
“Kotik,” Victor responded as he poked his head out of the bathroom to see the four-year-old standing in front of Yuuri and his bedroom, staring up at the door longingly.
“Where papa, Vicchan?” The blonde child questioned while glancing up at him with big green eyes. Victor couldn’t help the smile that rose to his lips as he moved towards the child and scooped him up into his arms.
“Sorry, kotik, papa isn’t feeling very well today,” he mumbled while planting a kiss on top of the boy’s head. “Do you want my special pirozkhi?”
“No,” Yuri pouted, “Want papa’s pancakes.”
Victor let out a sigh as he made his way to the kitchen while holding the small child to his chest.
If someone had told him a year ago that he would be raising a son with the love of his life, he would have laughed in their face.
Yuuri was terrified of children, trembled when a child approached him, it was honestly heartbreaking to see the pure panic that rose in Yuuri by the simple presence of a child.
How he wished he had been with Yuuri at that time, wished he could have been there to punch that stupid man in the face for planting such terror in Yuuri.
Yuuri had been battling his identity for over a decade before it all finally clicked into place, until Yuuri realised what was wrong.
He could still remember that day, when he met Yuuri Katsuki. He fell in love in an instant and wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
And here he was three years later, raising a child with Yuuri Katsuki.
His beautiful little nephew who had lost his parents too early and had stuck himself to Yuuri’s side and refused to let go.
“Makkachin!” Victor was knocked out of his thoughts by Yuri’s shout, he blinked as he spotted the poodle standing beside him.
“Makka looks hungry, doesn’t he?” he questioned the toddler, who immediately nodded his head.
“Makka needs breakfast too, Vicchan,” Yuri told him with a serious face, or as serious of a face a four-year-old could make.
Somehow during the year of Yuri living with them, Yuuri had been picked for the title of ‘papa’. While Victor had gotten ‘Vicchan’, something the blonde had picked up from hearing Yuuri call him that. It was adorable, but that didn’t stop the small sting of jealous.
Yuuri had laughed at him when he expressed his concern over Yuri calling him ‘Vicchan’, the conversation hadn’t really progressed from there, especially when Victor made it his goal to stop all those beautiful laughs from escaping the Japanese man.
“I’m going to put you on the bench, okay? I have to grab Makkachin’s food,” he told the boy while gently easing the blonde down onto the kitchen counter.
He planted a quick kiss on the blondes forehead before moving to collect the poodles bowl, he handed it to Yuri who put it carefully on the counter beside him. When the bowl was on the kitchen counter, Victor grabbed the expensive food that he insisted on feed Makkachin (he didn’t care how much Yuuri whined about him spending too much money on Makkachin, the poodle deserved the world) and carefully scooped up three cup-fills of it. Victor got Yuri to check every cup to make sure it was perfect before he put it into the poodle’s bowl. Once the food was in, Victor scooped up the blonde child in one arm and the poodles bowl in the other before heading towards Makkachin’s designated feeding spot.
“You want to feed Makkachin?” He asked, earning a nod from the child. He set Yuri on his feet before handing him Makkachin’s bowl.
He stepped back and watched as Yuri commanded Makkachin to sit, something the dog did without a second thought. Once the poodle was sitting, Yuri carefully placed the bowl of food on the ground before turning back to the poodle.
“Makkachin, shake!” Victor smiled as the poodle quickly offered his paw to the child, tounge hanging out of his mouth excitedly.
Yuri took the paw and shook it before moving to the side, “Okay, eat Makkachin,” Yuri cheered, giggling when the poodle dove for his bowl and dug in to his breakfast.
“Good job, Yuri!” Victor said while clapping his hands, earning himself a bright grin in response.
“Will papa be proud?” The blonde asked while moving towards him and holding his hands up to be picked up.
“Papa is always proud of you,” he ensured the boy while giving into the boys demands and lifting the boy up into his arms again.
“How about we make papa some yummy breakfast? See if that makes papa happy?” Victor offered and chuckled at the cheer of happiness he got from the blonde child.
“Yes, Vicchan! Need to make papa happy!” Yuri said determinedly.
“Then, let’s make papa happy.” Victor said before pressing a raspberry against Yuri’s exposed tummy, which caused the boy to burst out into giggles.
Yuuri found himself staring at the roof again, a common occurrence now that Yuuri reflected on it.
Whenever Yuuri was having a bad day, he found himself staring up at the roof.
He was home, in his bed that smelled like Victor.
But for once Victor’s normally calming smell put him on edge, he wanted more than ever to scream, to cry, to start tearing at his skin.
He knew why today was a bad day.
He had gotten his period.
It was a reminder that he was in the wrong body.
His doctor had told him that periods normally stopped once a person had been on testosterone for long enough.
But despite being on testosterone since he was twenty, periods still slipped through.
Yuuri took a deep breath as he shifted in bed, curling up into himself as he pulled the covers over his head. He took a few breaths, let the air under the covers become warm and unbearable before pulling the covers down just enough to poke his head out to breathe.
He hated periods, had hated them since the very first one at fifteen.
He had been a late bloomer, having been more focused on his skating career to think about stopping to let his body change and develop.
When the changes finally caught up to him, he was horrified.
While other girls around him prided themselves on how big their chests grew, Yuuri found himself begging for his chest to disappear, to go back to being flat.
While other girls gushed over their periods, told each other all their tips and tricks for dealing with periods, Yuuri found himself experiencing full-blown depression when on his period.
It wasn’t until he turned eighteen that everything clicked.
It had been a school thing, he had moved to America the year before to train under a coach based in Detroit. So, he found himself enrolled in high school classes, finishing his last year of education in a foreign country.
He had been flicking through one of his health books when he stumbled across a section about transgender.
He had read the whole section before turning to google to do even more research.
The next day, he went up to his skating coach and told them what he had discovered.
‘I think -no- I am transgender.’
His coach had stared at him for a moment before nodding his head before sitting him down and explain what he knew about transgender athletes.
Yuuri was heartbroken when the truth came out: if he came out as transgender, he would have to stop skating.
He had been skating for years, he had been skating even before he had started school.
He decided to do one more season and then he would retire and come out as transgender. One season, turned to two and then three.
During the third season, he hated himself. Hated himself for pretending to be a girl.
At twenty, Yuuki Katsuki officially retired from woman’s figure skating.
The next day, Yuuri Katsuki was born in an official letter of name change from his parents. It had been their way of encouraging him to find his peace in life.
A year later, Yuuri Katsuki met Victor Nikiforov for the first time outside the skating rink. A year after that, he found himself married to the Russian skating legend. And one year after that, they had somehow ended up adopting Victor’s deceased sister’s child after being left in their care.
“Papa!” A voice called out before the bed shifted as someone got onto the bed.
Yuuri took a deep breath before slowly uncurling himself and moving into an upright position.
A small smile rose to his lips at the sight he saw, little Yuri sat in Victor’s lap with a large plate of what looked like pirozkhi (he had gotten a huge lecture on what a pirozkhi was after referring to it as a bun thing) in his hands.
“What is this?” he questioned softly, earning a grin from the four-year-old.
“We made breakfast for papa! To make him happy!” Yuri declared, a little too loudly, not that the blonde understood volume yet.
“Oh really?” He hummed while reaching over to steal the child from Victor’s lap, the plate disappeared from Yuri’s little hands, making it easier to drag the blonde into his lap and hug him tightly. “Well, you have made papa very happy,” he ensured the child while nuzzling into the boy’s blond locks.
“See, Vicchan!” Yuri said excitedly while hugging him back. He glanced up and sent a gentle smile towards his husband, which seemed to relieve Victor if the slump in the shoulders was anything to from.
“Lyubimyy,” Victor called out to him gently, causing him to smile as he leant over to press a gentle kiss to his husband’s lips.
“Ty nuzhen mne,” Yuuri mumbled against his husband’s lips before plucking a pirozkhi off the plate in Victor’s hands and tearing a corner off, he offered the small piece to the child in his lap who devoured it like he hadn’t been feed in weeks.
“More, papa, more,” Yuri mumbled while staring up at him with big, puppy-dog eyes.
“Kotik, what do we say?” Victor called out.
“Pozhaluista, papa,” Yuri mumbled, causing Yuuri to smile gently as he tore another bit off and fed it to the boy, much like Victor had done on their first real day together.
“Ya ne mogu zhit' bez tebya.” Yuuri glanced towards his husband to see Victor smiling at him ever so gently.
“Gross, Vicchan,” Yuri whined, causing Yuuri to chuckle while planting a soft kiss on top of the boy’s head.
“Gross, Vicchan,” Yuuri mimicked their little son, causing Victor to gasp and grasp his chest dramatically.
“How could you,” the platinum haired Russian gasped before giving towards the, causing Yuri to squeal and Yuuri to gasp as they were wrapped up in a tight hug.
Victor always knew how to make a bad day better, at least most of the time anyway.