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Yuuri wakes up slowly, unaware of the chill outside the warm plush blankets, oblivious of the snowfall beyond the curtains because of the distracting heat next to him.
The ceiling is foreign, but the fact that it's foreign is all too familiar to him. All of his surroundings apart from the chest he's sleeping against and the hand playing in his hair are different. The four poster bed, the satin sheets and the baroque furniture. Nothing is the same, but yet everything is as it should be.
He's only spent one mere night in this specific hotel room, and yet it still manages to feel like home more than any permanent fixture ever could.
Yuuri knows exactly what day it is, and for once, he doesn't get up and get dressed without ceremony, he doesn't put on layer upon layer and conceal a piece of himself with each garment. He doesn't check and load his weapons or make sure his knives are sharp, he doesn't conceal them with a jacket and a metaphorical mask that's heavier than any weightless thing should ever be.
Today used to be just another day to fight, just another day to die, just another day to make it through alive.
Instead, he curls into Victor's chest and listens to the hum Victor gives in reply because he's awake too. There's so such thing as sleeping in when their time together is limited.
It's the 25th of December, and for the first time ever, it feels like Christmas to Yuuri, and with the humming vibrating in his ear and the kisses Victor is nuzzling into the top of his hair, he finally knows why.
"Merry Christmas to me." Yuuri sighs out loud, and before he knows it his arm his holding onto Victor tighter, his very own gift that will always be more than any human deserves.
And even as Victor is hugging Yuuri tighter to his chest in return, he can feel Victor's breath pause in his hair.
"Why merry Christmas to you?" And the very first words Victor Nikiforov whine to him on the first Christmas they're together are a whine, pouted lips pressing against his head. He can hear Victor's real question. 'Aren't you forgetting something?'
The most terrifying man of the underworld- someone capable of stealing the moon - is hugely sentimental, he's a romantic, he likes presents on valentines and to celebrate anniversaries and any date that means something. He likes to make memories and take selfies that they always have to delete. He likes to go on dates and hold hands only where no one can see. He likes to use the word boyfriend and kiss hello and goodbye- always too many goodbyes.
Yet chances to spend those times together, to do those things and make memories are always slim, there's always been something, conflicting schedules or responsibilities neither of them can trust to anyone else.
And because of all that, Victor has also been waiting for this day since the day they met. Their first Christmas Day together.
"It's merry Christmas to me Victor, because it's your birthday." Yuuri smiles as he stares up at the unfamiliar ceiling and feels Victor lose any comeback that was on his tongue.
"Yuuri..."
There's something incredibly satisfying in making Victor Nikiforov speechless, even more so when it's because he's surprised him for a change.
"Happy birthday, Victor," Yuuri echoes again, and he knows full well his partner doesn't need material gifts or something to unwrap to go along with those words.
There's a hand tracing the tattoos on his arm now, lazy lines as Victor looks down at the difference in their skin. Victor's unblemished and flawless, a canvas for all Yuuri's colours and scars.
"You spoil me, love." Victor whispers into his hair once more, smile in his voice as his heart thumps in is chest against Yuuri's ear. "Thank you."
"No. Thank you." Yuuri whispers back.
Today is the gift for them both. Waking up with each other, this small pocket of isolation outside reality.
Yuuri has never been more grateful for a single day in his life. It's another day to fight, another day to win, another day to live. It's the day Victor was born, the most important day of Yuuri's life.