Chapter Text
Six days before Sukkot, Viktor’s standing with one hand on his hips in the early afternoon sun, wiping sweat off his forehead. Piles of bamboo and thatching, and several kilometers of rope it seems, is strewn around the private yard in the onsen. The rough, uneven bones of a shack are lashed together, swaying gently in the breeze. Makkachin is laying on the porch, chewing on a toy that looks like a stuffed lemon stuck to a palm branch. Viktor’s v-neck is damp at the back of his neck, and he’s picking up his water bottle when he sees Yuuri walk out with a tray holding refreshments and a long box with Hebrew lettering on the side.
Viktor walks over, seating himself on the edge of the porch just before Yuuri sits cross-legged next to him. “You have a package,” Yuuri says, holding the box out carefully. Viktor takes it, thanking him and looking it over slowly for any damage, before setting it gently to the side in favor of the snacks on Yuuri’s tray. The snacks Yuuri brought out are comprised mostly of various stuffed breads and mochi, attractively arranged on a plate next to glasses of cold green tea.
Yuuri hands Viktor a bun stuffed with red beans and chestnuts before taking a large bite of his own. “How’s it going?” Yuuri asks, glancing at the makeshift bamboo structure.
“It could be better. It keeps falling over when I try to add anything to it, though. I’ve never had to build a sukkah on my own.”
“Build a what now?”
“A…..ok for this holiday…..we’re supposed to build…” he frowns, trying to figure out how to explain in English. “We build little houses outside, called sukkot, and eat in them and sleep in them when we can because ….we had them in the desert and stuff. After leaving Egypt.”
Yuuri looks puzzled. “Didn’t...ok, so you had the New Year, but I thought the next holiday was the serious one? The one where you’re not gonna eat all day. You didn’t say anything about building houses and Egypt when you told me about it.”
Viktor sighs softly. “That IS the next one, but the one I’m building the sukkah for starts four days later. I want to have this up before that starts so I don’t have to worry about it.”
“Starts?! When does it end?”
Viktor takes a bite of his bun, chewing thoughtfully. “Eight days. It lasts eight days.”
Yuuri’s eyes widen. “How many holidays do you have?” he asked in disbelief.
Viktor blinks a few times before shrugging. “A lot, I guess. Sukkot ends with another one celebrating the Torah, then there’s Chanukkah, Tu B’Shevat,” he starts counting on his fingers, “Purim, Pesach, Tu B’Av, and then Rosh Hashanah, which is the one that just passed.”
“With the apples and honey?”
“That’s the one,” Viktor replies, “though I know there are some others I’m forgetting.” He sighs and finishes his bun, stirring his tea before taking a sip. A cool breeze rushes through the yard, followed promptly by slight groaning and a large crash.
Both of them look up suddenly, looking for the source of the noise. It takes Viktor a second to notice his painstakingly built frame is in a heap on the ground, a tangle of bamboo and rope barely resembling the admittedly lackluster structure it had been.
Viktor’s shoulders fall as he lets out another sigh. “At this rate, it’s going to take days,” he laments.
When Viktor looks up Yuuri’s face is caught between looks of sympathy and amusement. Yuuri quickly tries to hide his burgeoning smile behind his tea, taking a long drink before setting his glass down and promptly taking a huge bite of his food.
Viktor smiles and goes over to the remains of his latest attempt, deftly untying the rope and carefully stacking the bamboo to the side. As he’s finishing, he’s joined by Yuuri, now wearing tennis shoes and a hat.
“Maybe it’ll be easier with two,” Yuuri remarks.
Viktor looks at him, smiling. Yuuri’s eyes are bright, even shaded by the brim of his baseball cap. His cheeks are flushed, from the heat, Viktor assumes. Viktor wipes sweat off his forehead again, still unaccustomed to such high temperatures so late in the year. Yuuri is walking around the yard, looking at the space Viktor’s cleared near one of the smaller hot springs guests don’t have access to. Viktor can’t help but stare as Yuuri moves smoothly around the stacked bamboo, stepping carefully over the piles of rope, jeans hugging his thighs and well-worn t-shirt draped nicely across his torso.
“Viktor!”
He’s snapped out of his reverie by Yuuri looking at him expectantly, holding a small pad of paper and a pen. “Y-yes?” he stammers, willing himself not to blush and failing miserably.
“I was asking what it was supposed to look like?”
“Oh, nothing fancy. Three walls and a roof with enough holes you can see the stars.”
Yuuri looks at him incredulously. “That’s it?”
“Before the decorations, it is.”
“What’s the use of a roof if you can see the stars through it?”
“Because it’s holy, Yuuri. Hole-ey” Viktor deadpans, looking Yuuri straight in the eye.
It only takes seconds before they’re both laughing, leaning on each other for support. Yuuri’s body is shaking, doubled over as it is, and Viktor can’t help but smile even more.
Dusk is starting to fall by the time they have a seemingly sturdy frame set up, beams criss-crossed on top waiting for the foliage that will make up the roof, and tarps folded next to the frame, ready to be secured to three of the four sides. After admiring their handiwork, they sit on the deck, picking at the long-forgotten snacks and finishing the dregs of the green tea Yuuri had brought out.