Chapter Text
Viktor has long imagined how the first Chanukkah would go with Yuuri in the apartment in St. Petersburg. They’d fall asleep on the first night with his menorah standing proudly in the window, two candles burning gently in the dark. He’d grab donuts the next morning, make the good coffee he only pulls out on special occasions, and wake his fiancé with a kiss and a smile. Yuuri would shuffle out to the kitchen, grumbling, as he is wont to do, and Viktor would crack a few jokes and Yuuri's mouth would twitch up at the corners like it does when he’s too sleepy to properly grin. After that it would have been a nice, languid day, and they’d finish curled up on the couch together with Makkachin after lighting the second night’s candles. He hadn’t planned for the rest of the holiday, but there was going to be plenty of cute moments, good food, and nights spent watching the candles burn in the window.
Sitting next to Yakov in the taxi to the competition venue in Chelyabinsk with a mostly-empty cup of hotel coffee and the tail end of a croissant in his hands was not part of his plan, nor was the absence of Yuuri at his side. Because of course.
He had to fall in love with someone from the one country that holds its national competitions at the same. Exact. Time. As Russia. Every. Year. And of course, their first Chanukkah together had to be eclipsed not only by his birthday, but by the most ill-timed figure skating events in the history of figure skating events. Viktor’s in Chelyabinsk. Makkachin is in St. Petersburg with Viktor’s elderly neighbor, probably suffering through stale dog biscuits. Yuuri's in Osaka with Minako standing in as his coach. None of them are in the same time zone, much less the same location.
Some Chanukkah this is. The taxi idles while Yakov runs into a shop for decent coffee. Viktor’s picking at a bit of dirt under his nails when the door opens and a brown paper bag is tossed unceremoniously on his lap. He looks at Yakov, confused, as the taxi starts moving again. Yakov merely grunts.
Opening the bag, the back of his throat gets a little thick when he sees two of his favorite stuffed donuts sitting at the bottom. This is a clear violation of his strictly regimented diet (Yu-Topia’s katsudon were bliss for the months he lived there, but Yakov insists on him getting back into fighting form while he trains in Russia), and he looks at his coach with wide eyes.
“Eat, Vitya.” is all Yakov says in response.
For all Yakov’s yearly yelling about fried food and its detrimental effects on athleticism, he seems to realize the importance of Viktor’s traditional Daily Chanukkah Donut. It’s not anything really huge, but it’s what Viktor grew up with, what he still does every year, and something Yakov’s apparently stopped fighting him about. He eats, gratefully accepting the second cup of coffee Yakov holds out.
They’re almost to the venue when Yakov gives Viktor a stern glare. “Yura does not need to know about this.”
Yura doesn’t need to know, sure, but eating donuts on Chanukkah is tradition and Viktor only wants to encourage the next generation of Jewish athletes. He slips the second donut in his pocket while Yakov gets out of the car.
He has his opportunity in the locker room. Yura finishes lacing his skates just before Viktor corners him against the wall. He pulls the bag out of his pocket. “Yura.”
“What do you want, old man?” He flips his hair and glares at Viktor.
Viktor plasters his face with the most cheerfully disarming smile he can muster as he holds out the bag. “It’s for you! Happy Chanukkah!”
Yura slowly reaches out, taking the bag before looking inside. He looks back up. “A donut? You trying to get me killed or something?”
“What Yakov doesn’t know won’t upset him. It’s important to celebrate!” Maybe he sounds a bit too cheerful, but it’s either that or being grumpy and he has no doubt which will go over better. Yura eats while Viktor changes into his practice clothes. When he looks back over, Yura’s lips twitch up in a grateful smile before he takes on his trademark scowl.
His phone chimes, a “Happy Birthday/Happy Chanukkah” text from Yuuri lights up the screen, accompanied by a selfie of him and Minako, both smiling and waving in front of the television.
“We’re watching!! Davai!!” shows up on the screen, before another bubble appears showing Yuuri's still typing.
“I love you!!” is the next message, and Viktor smiles.
Maybe this Chanukkah won’t be as bad as he’d thought.