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The first hint Yuuri had that there was something more to Viktor was one of the most obvious in hindsight.
Viktor never revealed himself too much, despite loving the onsen. He was completely fine with having an exposed chest, much to Yuuri's embarrassment. However, when they retire to the onsen with burning muscles and aching bones, Yuuri can’t say he saw Viktor fully. Not that he would ever stare! Of course not! But Viktor would always make sure his back was facing Yuuri’s when they cleaned themselves and would bunch his towel in front of whichever hip faced Yuuri while getting into the onsen.
Yuuri did think this was a bit strange, but Viktor was from Russia, onsens and public nudity were new to him. He was certainly less modest and bashful than other foreigners, so Yuuri brushed it off as a bit of culture shock.
There was one night though.
Yuuri had his usual pains from the ice that day, despite cutting it short. They wanted to take Makkachin to a pet store to pick out some toys, as she had destroyed 2 of her stuffed squeaking toys and misplaced her tennis ball. Yuuri was honestly eager to get into the onsen and have the hot waters kiss away the aches and bruises on his legs.
The skater and coach washed up before heading to the onsen. It was completely empty aside from one other man. It was about dinner time, so most of the guests had opted to go try Mama Katsuki’s cooking. Yuuri slipped in easily and let out a long sigh as he was enveloped by the heat of the springs.
After a few moments, though, he noticed there wasn’t another body next to his. Yuuri looked up into Viktor’s distressed features. He looked anxious and almost a bit lost, shifting his weight and casting nervous glances between the pool, the other man and the door to the washroom. His fists were clenching his towel tightly.
“Viktor?” Yuuri asked, shifting to face him from the water. The Russian pursed his lips together tightly. His eyes skittered to the stone beneath him before landing on Yuuri.
“Ah, Yuuri, uhm. I think I’m going to just go back to my room,” Viktor muttered. Yuuri glanced to other man, who was completely unaware of them.
“Is it because of the guy over there?” Yuuri guessed. Viktor gave an awkward chuckle and a slight nod. Yuuri had no idea how to handle this. Viktor had never been anything less than confident.
“You know he’s not going to stare at you right? It would awkward and very inappropriate for him to do so.” Yuuri tried to reassure Viktor. The older man rolled his shoulders.
“Ah, yeah, no I know. But uhm, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m really comfortable being completely naked and bathing with strangers yet. I’m just going to go and get ready. Maybe help Mama Katsuki with dinner. I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” Viktor said, more of a statement more than a question. He turned and left through the glass doors, leaving Yuuri alone.
Viktor's sudden shyness was bizarre. Not once did Viktor ever make himself seem vulnerable. He was more than comfortable showing his chest to strangers and invaded Yuuri personal space in the bath after their usual practice. From his instagram posts with Christophe to his suggestive modeling promos, Yuuri would have never guessed Viktor was so body shy.
Yuuri cut his onsen time short, only waiting for his throbbing muscles to relax and the pains his legs and feet to be somewhat soothed. There was still a dull throb in his muscles as he walked, though not as fiercely felt as before.
Viktor was already dressed and squishing Makkachin's cheeks together happily by the time Yuuri reached him. He relaxed at the sight of the Viktor back to his old self.
Makkachin came home with three stuffed toys with squeakers, two rubber, a new rope, and two very happy owners. Yuuri didn’t have the heart bring up the matter to Viktor again, to go digging into insecurities unwanted.
Whenever they washed before entering the springs, Yuuri made sure it was just the two of them. Yuuri was worried Viktor would eventually snap at him, but Viktor only ever hummed and smiled appreciatively. He never did stop turning his back towards Yuuri, though.
The next time Yuuri had an inkling of Viktor’s past, it was when they were first testing the boundaries of their relationship.
They had their first kiss over two months ago, weeks before Nationals. They had a hand full of kisses, which then evolved into making out. They were testing each other. What the other would feel comfortable with, if they themselves really wanted this, if this was an actual feeling and not just infatuation.
Together, they sat in the dim room where Yuuri grew up with a very particular face once covering his walls. They had advanced to hands on hips, but nothing farther. Yuuri was going to take a leap tonight.
He was going to touch Viktor’s chest.
There wasn’t going to be a sweaty undershirt between them. Yuuri was firmly planted in Viktor's lap. There wouldn't be an easy way to run. Yuuri could feel Viktor’s hands resting heavily on his bare skin, drawing circles, while Yuuri’s tremble. His fingers inched their way up Viktor’s abs, something Yuuri still envied and adored.
As soon as Yuuri's palms rested on him, Viktor pressed closer with a hum. Yuuri’s fingers shook as they climbed higher up Viktor. Past his abs, past his ribs, and just about to cusp his chest. As soon as Yuuri’s fingers brushed against Viktor’s pectorals, the Russian gasped and shoved Yuuri away.
Yuuri blinked, shocked from the end of his bed. Viktor hugged his chest protectively while staring at Yuuri, blushing and wide-eyed.
“Uhm, sorry, Vitya,” Yuuri started. “I didn’t mean to um go too far. Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to shove you that hard. You just surprised me.” Viktor said followed with a nervous chuckle. They shared a moment of awkward silence. Viktor sighed and deflated.
“Yuuri, I want to show you something. I’m...I’m going to show you this, only because I trust you fully. Alright?” Viktor stated, his arms sliding to his sides. Yuuri hesitated, a bit taken aback. He nodded after a few seconds, and shifted closer to Viktor. The older man took a deep breath and slid his shirt over his head.
His chest is as pristine and perfect the rest of him. Not a single blemish in sight. Viktor kept his gaze down, almost hiding behind his bangs.
“Uhm, you look amazing. Is there something wrong?” Yuuri asked. Viktor cringed a bit but said nothing. Instead, he stretched out his hand, silently asking for Yuuri, who slid his gently into the waiting palm. Viktor brought his hand up to the very bottom of his pectoral, a little off to the side. Although Yuuri, saw nothing, he felt a slight change in texture. It felt smoother and more delicate than the skin around it.
“Scar?” Yuuri ventured. Viktor tensed and nodded. Yuuri drew his hand back, and silence returned.
“It’s not noticeable, is it?” Viktor asked. Yuuri was quick to shake his head.
“No, not at all. I would’ve never guessed honestly.” Yuuri reassured him. Viktor nodded before licking his lips.
“Aren’t you going to ask? How I got my scars?” Viktor muttered. Yuuri shook his head again.
“Not, really. Unless, you would like to tell me. Do you want to tell me?”
“Ah,” Viktor fidgeted, clearly unprepared for that answer, “I…I had a surgery.” Viktor stated with faux confidence. Yuuri waited for more, but Viktor seemed content with his statement, so Yuuri figured he would have to take the bait.
“Surgery on your chest. I hope it wasn’t serious.”
“No,” Viktor began with an eased expression, “I actually tripped on my toepick when I was learning my quad salchow, without a harness of course, and I hit the board-,” Viktor stopped his story with a darkening expression. He took a deep breath, still intensely staring at the floor. “No, that was a lie. I tell everyone that’s how I got my scars. But not you. I’m not going to lie to you.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I can wait.” Yuuri reassured. In all honesty, Yuuri would die to know a piece of Viktor’s history that no one knew. However, the distress coming from Viktor was more worrying than his secret. The Russian sighed.
“I don’t think I’m ready yet. Soon, but not yet. It wasn’t the most life-threatening surgery, but it was very important for me, okay?” Viktor finished. Yuuri nodded, but not quite understanding his words. Once again, the silence between them was suffocating.
Viktor held himself and curled himself under Yuuri’s covers. He looked to Yuuri with the most guilty and pitiful expression as he raised his arms. Yuuri smiled at the invitation, and snaked his way under the covers and around Viktor. Although Viktor had his head above Yuuri’s, he still had his arms curled into his chest, making him seem smaller and more delicate. Yuuri felt a gentle kiss being placed on his forehead as his glasses were removed and the dim light flicked off. It was a nighttime routine that still left Yuuri blushing and his heart racing despite how common it was now.
They fell asleep, shifting so Viktor was the little spoon that night.
Yuuri had another obvious hint, although of course, he was too clueless to catch it.
Yuuri loved massages honestly. In America, Phichit had a friend who owned a fluffy white dog and two massaging chairs. Every time Yuuri was invited over, Phichit and his friend would have a ball while Yuuri would just sit the corner, nearly drooling, back pleasantly unknotted with a white cloud on his lap. It was heaven.
While back in Japan, he thought it would be frivolous to buy a massaging appliance if he already had the hot springs. It would be overindulgence. Yuuri would feel horrible about buying it, then he would never use it, then eventually return it. It happened before.
So when looking for Viktor’s notebook of figure skating ideas, he was surprised to find a little black microphone looking thing tucked to the side of Viktor's nightstand drawer next to the notebook.
Yuuri honestly had no idea what he was looking at. There was a large, white round tip connected by a little piece of black plastic to the handle. Yuuri turned it in his hands a few times before he noticed a button. Curiosity outweighing his usually anxiety about snooping through Viktor’s room, he clicked it. The white end began to buzz.
Yuuri placed it on his bare forearm, where it buzzed gently. Still confused about what exactly he was holding, he looked on the handle for some sort of brand name.
Hitachi Magic Wand.
Yuuri clicked the wand off and threw the device on the bed, then fished out his phone. He typed in the printed letters. ‘Hitachi Deep Muscle Massaging Wand’ the first link read. Yuuri let out an “Ooh” and nodded. Of course Viktor would have this! There were no onsens in Russia and leaving home everyday after training to get a massage would be more work than what it’s worth. Not to mention likely falling asleep halfway through the massage.
Yuuri took the notebook, and contemplated putting the wand back in the drawer. Maybe if Yuuri asked, Viktor would use it on him the next time his shoulders were aching. The massage chair felt amazing, so the wand would probably as well.
Yuuri hatched a plan to leave the wand on the bed, so when Viktor sees it, he would ask Yuuri if he moved it, to which Yuuri would say he was curious as he’s never seen it before. Viktor would gasp and demand to use it on Yuuri, knowing how excitable and extra Viktor is when Yuuri hasn't experienced something. It was perfect. Yuuri will be horrible and greedy for one day. He nodded to himself before closing the door with the notebook in hand.
Later that night, probably a little later than what Viktor was comfortable with, they decided to call it a night and get ready for bed. They almost always sleep in Viktor’s bed, but they still get dressed in their respective rooms.
Yuuri began lifting off his shirt when Viktor rushed into Yuuri’s room with a beet red face.
“Yuuri did you go through my drawers?” He asked. Yuuri froze wide-eyed, halfway out of his shirt.
“I-uh yeah. Your notebook was in the top drawer of your nightstand. Why?”
“Did you move my ah… massager?” Viktor asked. Yuuri felt panicked, but still nodded.
“Yeah, the muscle massager right? I just moved it to the bed and I guess I forgot to put it back.” Yuuri explained. Viktor both relaxed greatly and blushed furiously at that.
“Right. Muscle massager.” Viktor stated, “Right, sorry for breaking down your door like that. I thought maybe Makkachin would try to chew on my… muscle massager. See you in a few right?” Viktor asked. He was picking at his pointer finger, which Yuuri had picked up was a nervous habit. Viktor was nervous.
“Yeah. I’ll be right there.” Yuuri smiled gently, hoping that was the right move. With Viktor’s soft smile and a hug received, Yuuri determined that it was, in fact, the right move.
Although how a muscle massager would cause such a panic was beyond Yuuri. Viktor could just buy a new one if Makkachin chewed it up. Maybe it was the batteries. Oh God if Makkachin got into batteries! No wonder Viktor had been worried. It wasn’t likely, but it was still possible. Yuuri began kicking himself for his foolishness. He would’ve hurt Makkachin and Viktor over something so selfish and stupid.
He rushed from his room to Viktor, clad in the soft pink shirt and grey fitted shorts that he loved Yuuri in most. Viktor was already in bed with Makka and raised the sheets for Yuuri to get in. Yuuri bent to give Makkachin a few good rubs on her head before cuddling up next to Viktor.
They never spoke of the Hitachi Magic Wand past that night, much to both of their relief.
The fourth discovery Yuuri had of Viktor was definitely the most shocking, next to the jam in tea thing.
“Makkachin. Very, very bad girl.” Yuuri scolded with a pointed look and dominate body language. Makka looked ashamed, which while heartbreaking, was the necessary reaction. Makkachin got into Yuuri’s drawers while he was showering. Specifically, his underwear/t-shirt drawer. She created a nest of Yuuri’s clothes, thoroughly scenting the last of his clean briefs, along with leaving wet spots which either slobber or some other dog fluid.
Viktor was in Yuuri’s bathroom, showering as Yuuri confirmed he would have to rewash half of that drawer’s clothing. The two had begun sharing clothing a while ago. It was usually Yuuri borrowing (being forced into) shirts from Viktor’s closet, though Viktor did like some of Yuuri’s sweatpants better, and had borrowed fuzzy socks once or twice.
However, underwear had been kept separate thus far. It was just something Yuuri had felt too embarrassed and invasive to try before. However, compared waddling around the inn commando, the thought of sharing all of their clothes seem more appealing.
After standing outside of his bathroom door for a good minute or two rehearsing his lines, Yuuri finally convinced himself to knock.
“Yeah?” Viktor called form the shower. Yuuri cracked the door as not yell, but refused to go any further.
“Vitya, Makkachin got into my drawers. My briefs all smell like dog now and have a suspicious fluid on them. Would it be alright if I, uh, b-borrowed yours, for the time being? Just until the washer’s free.” Yuuri explained, restraining himself from mumbling so he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. Viktor remained silent for a moment.
“Yeah, of course, detka. All of mine should be clean, unless Makka got into there too. They’re all in the middle top drawer of my dresser.” Viktor replied. Although his voice was a little more serious than Yuuri had been expecting.
“Thanks, Vitya. I'll be back in a sec.” Yuuri stated before quietly shutting the bathroom door. Makkachin might hate baths, but she liked the taste of bath water.
Yuuri scurried over to Viktor’s room, and right to Viktor dresser. Opening the drawer, Yuuri wasn’t surprised to see every high fashion name on the waistbands. Viktor Nikiforov only deserved the best after all. Yuuri pulled out a navy blue Calvin Klein, when a small piece of red caught his eye.
Not once in all the months of changing in the dressing room together, did Yuuri ever see red on Viktor. Viktor always said he liked monochrome and blue because they brought out his eyes and hair, and “made him seem as pale as Snow White”. Yuuri tilted his head and without thinking, pulled the red garment out.
The shade of red on Yuuri’s face rivaled that of what he was holding.
The red belonged to a woman’s style of garment. Not a black bikini cut, but an actual female style.
Yuuri shoved the cloth back into the drawer and nearly slammed it shut. Yuuri looked himself in the mirror and just stared while he processed what he had held. Viktor, apparently, liked females’ clothing as well mens’. Honestly, if Viktor busted out a skirt, Yuuri wouldn’t be very surprised. Yuuri nodded his head. Yeah, Viktor could dress however he wanted. And Yuuri was totally okay with that. Yes, absolutely! Yuuri was going to support Viktor no matter what! If Viktor wanted to wear a wedding dress on their special day, then Yuuri would hand sew the most gorgeous dress possible!
Yuuri blinked at that last thought. Weddings were certainly too soon to entertain the thought of. But hypothetically, Yuuri would definitely be okay with that. Yuuri opened up the drawer again, folded the red underwear neatly, and put it on top of the matching set of black and rose gold.
Yuuri left Viktor’s room, and wondered if or when Viktor would feel enough trust to reveal this side of him to Yuuri.
That night, as they lay in Viktor’s large, very soft bed, Yuuri prepared three different conversations and six different scenarios in his head for when his Viktor would decide to show Yuuri this part of his life.
That conversation never happened
Instead, another one had begun.
Yuuri won silver at the GPF a two months ago. Today, they sat cuddled together on their couch, Yuuri on his back and Viktor snuggled on top of him. Yuuri was reading a manga while Viktor had his attention turned to the tv.
Once the fifth commercial break started, the blonde turned his attention to Yuuri. Yuuri met his eyes and smiled. Viktor melted into Yuuri's warm chest and gave a content smile of his own.
“You're gorgeous,” Viktor sighed. Yuuri flushed and chuckled before poking Viktor's nose.
“No, you are. You look like an angel.” Yuuri smiled. Viktor leaned up and kissed Yuuri's cheek before nuzzling against it. Yuuri set down his book in order to wrap his arms around his fiancé. Viktor pulled back and looked into Yuuri's eyes. His love drunk smile slipped as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Yuuri's lips.
Viktor was feeling extra affectionate today. Once he placed that first kiss, he couldn't stop. He placed two more soft kisses on Yuuri's lips before moving to his cheek. Grabbing Viktor's waist tighter, Yuuri leaned his head down and placed a peck on Viktor's neck. Viktor sighed and shuddered. It was Yuuri's way to sign that Viktor was allowed to shower him with love.
He smiled as Viktor returned his attention to his mouth. Viktor slid his hand into Yuuri's raven hair as he deepened their kiss. Yuuri felt Viktor's tongue slip into his mouth, and he couldn't help the soft moan that slipped from him.
They had done this before, with more frequency now that the two wore golden rings. However, it never went anywhere, due to Yuuri stopping it. But today, Yuuri wanted to go further.
Yuuri rolled his hips into Viktor's, whose hips slotted perfectly into Yuuri's. It was Viktor's turn to give a soft moan as Yuuri's tongue slid into the other's mouth on the next roll. God it felt good. Yuuri broke away to kiss and mark Viktor's pale neck. The older man gasped at Yuuri's boldness. Viktor bit his lip and pressed harder against Yuuri's hips.
“God, Yuuri, I love you so much,” Viktor sighed. Yuuri's hands slid under Viktor's shirt to caress his pale chest. Viktor had explained due to his surgery and some complications, he doesn't have much feeling in his nipples, but he still liked his chest held, his scars caressed, loved.
Viktor's back arched as Yuuri's hands met his chest. Viktor tipped Yuuri's head back up to seal his lips in a kiss. They've gone on like this for hours before, but Yuuri didn't want to lose his confidence. He kept one hand against Viktor's beating heart while the other traced patterns down his toned stomach. Usually, Yuuri would stop here. Today, his fingers tips dared to breach Viktor's pants, though not his underwear.
Viktor gasped sharply and shoved himself away. He sat on the other side of the couch, holding both hands over his crotch with the most betrayed and mortified expression Yuuri has ever seen Viktor wear.
Yuuri shifted to sit up and further away from the Russian. They stilled, staring at each other. Neither spoke.
Eventually, Viktor let his hands slip away to curl around his drawn up legs. Yuuri lowered his head, ashamed and silently berating himself for shoving Viktor out of his comfort zone. Yuuri didn't even ask or try to hint at it. He just went for it! He shamefully turned to face the television, unable to even face the direction of the loving man he just so foolishly violated.
“Yurok, can I tell you something?” Viktor nearly whispered. Yuuri snapped his head to his fiancé, who was staring intently at the gold band around his ring. If not for the diminutive, Yuuri would be terrified of what that stare meant.
“Of, course, moy Vitya.” Yuuri answered. Viktor preened, then slumped at his diminutive. His gaze never left his ring. They sat in silence, Viktor chewing his lip. He let out a shuddering breath.
“Nevermind. I’ll, uhm, tell you tomorrow. Just, hold me for today?” Viktor asked, sounded more fragile than Yuuri has ever heard him. Completely out of his comfortable zone, and fighting the urge to bolt, Yuuri stretched out his arms, stiffly. Viktor crawled into them and curled himself against his love. Yuuri could feel Viktor’s heart racing, and the small tremors shaking throughout Viktor’s body.
They stayed tangled together, until it was time for dinner. Makkachin kept Viktor company while Yuuri worked his magic to create the best replica of his mother’s katsudon he could manage. Katsudon had become both of their comfort food. Viktor enjoyed spice in his food, apparently, so Yuuri threw caution to the wind, (which in Yuuri terms meant he threw a tiny chip of his anxiety to the three feet away) and threw in a few bits of jalapeño into Viktor’s bowl.
Yuuri set the bowls on their coffee table, in front of Viktor and Makka who were currently bundled in their most comfortable blanket. Yuuri sat next to Viktor, and pressed himself into the Russian’s side before muttering an “itadakimasu” and digging into his bowl. Despite the vague sense of anxiety clutching his chest all day, Yuuri’s stomach had yet to feel its effects. He would enjoy his meal with his lovely Vitya for tonight.
“Yuuri, would you love me if I murdered someone?” Viktor asked suddenly. Yuuri paused midchew to look at Viktor. He was still staring at his untouched bowl of katsudon. Maybe the peppers were a mistake after all.
“Mmm, if you murdered somebody. I think I would be shocked, of course, but I would still love you.” Viktor poked at his food.
“What if I tricked you?” Viktor murmured. Yuuri shrugged.
“You would have to work for my trust again, but I wouldn’t leave you.” Yuuri stated easily.
“And if I was secretly something vile, would be able to still love me? If-if I was an… an animal abuser, or if I’ve been secretly doping to achieve every gold medal I’ve ever earned? Could you say, in full confidence, that you would never leave me?” Viktor asked and finally looked up into Yuuri’s eyes. Yuuri set down his bowl.
“Vitya, anata, if you were doing something horrible, I would still love you. Again, maybe a bit hurt and trust would need to be earned again, but I would rather know and help you get better than stay ignorant, okay?” Yuuri explained softly. Viktor nodded, looking back to his meal.
“Okay.” Viktor echoed. Yuuri rubbed Viktor’s arm and pressed a kiss to his temple before turning to pick up his bowl. Makkachin, however, beat them to their meals, sniffing eagerly at Viktor’s bowl. The poodle gagged and wrinkled his muzzle at the peppers. Makkachin swatted the bowl and Viktor barely managed to catch it before it hit the floor. Makkachin growled at the few bits of dropped rice and swatted them with his paw, squishing the rice. The two stared at Makkachin, then each other, before laughing.
“My Makkachin, you don’t like peppers do you, babies?” Viktor cooed at Makkachin, who wagged his tail and borf’ed in response. Yuuri began unabashedly cackling.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Makka so disgusted in his life!” Yuuri managed to say between the hysterical laughing. Viktor nodded and curled over his bowl, voicelessly laughing.
“He hit it! He tried to kill the pepper like a bug!” Viktor gasped out, tears welling his eyes. The two sat back upright, Viktor rubbing the tears from his eyes and Yuuri holding his cramping gut.
“It wasn’t even that funny,” Yuuri chuckled, which led back to a laughing fit. Viktor couldn’t help but laugh as well, loud and hideous cackling. They leaned together, the anxiety hanging over them easing for a bit.
That night, Yuuri held Viktor tightly as he curled against his chest. Viktor honestly looked like a broken child, and Yuuri couldn't help but want to cuddle him and kiss all the pain away.
The morning after, Yuuri wakes up before Viktor. Seeing Viktor finally relaxing brings a smile to his face. Sliding out of bed, Yuuri decides he’ll shower and make Viktor breakfast, then they can take Makkachin for a walk before tackling whatever is bothering Viktor.
Yuuri takes the quickest shower of his life. It honestly must have been five minutes tops, given that he had to wait for the conditioner to set, which Yuuri still thinks is an unnecessary product, but it makes Viktor happy and clingy. Yuuri tiptoes back to their bedroom, already thoroughly towel dried, and again smiles. Viktor is now cuddling Yuuri’s pillow.
Yuuri slips into a loose navy shirt that had once been Viktor's, and one pair of his many, many black leggings. He tiptoes back out of the room all the way into the kitchen. Rolling up his sleeves, Yuuri pulled out a kanji covered paper from his recipe notebook.
Syrniki was one of Viktor’s favorites, so Yuuri took special care to research a recipe and write it down. Syrniki, cinnamon oatmeal, and maybe some ham and eggs. It might be too much for Viktor to eat though… Hmm. Yuuri taps a finger against his lip. Maybe some fruits instead of ham and eggs.
Yuuri takes extra care when breaking up the cottage cheese and mixing the ingredients in thoroughly. He usually trusts his instinct when it came to mixing ingredients, but today he needs to double check that everything turns out perfect. While the syrniki cooks in the pan, Yuuri begins the oatmeal, which he feels even less confident about.
This is Viktor’s favorite thing to eat for breakfast. If Yuuri got it wrong, even a little bit, it’ll make Viktor feel even worse than he already does. He could read it as an intentional slight. Yuuri adds two servings of instant oats to a saucepan and pours the milk in. He turns to check that the syrniki was becoming gold, and not being burned. When he looks back to the oatmeal, he begins worrying if he used enough milk. Or maybe not enough. Viktor is a very little or a whole lot type of person, and Yuuri never got to actually see Viktor make his own oatmeal before.
His stomach dropping and his heart beginning to race, Yuuri desperately tries to think back to a time to when Viktor commented on his oatmeal. Why would Vitkor ever comment on his own oatmeal!? Yuuri begins nervously biting his nails, digging through his memory, but nothing is coming to mind. Yuuri sighs deeply and hopes Viktor would be alright with Yuuri’s poor attempt at breakfast.
Yuuri adds cinnamon and a gratuitous amount of honey to the oatmeal, then scoops into a bowl. He places the golden syrniki onto a plate and sets the table with freshly peeled oranges at the center. The syrniki looks slightly burnt to Yuuri, but then again he has no idea what syrniki looked like when cooked to Viktor’s liking. It might even be undercooked for all Yuuri knows.
With a heavy heart, and a silent prayer Viktor can manage to find the goop and mush somewhat edible, Yuuri walks to the bedroom. When he opens the door, Viktor is sitting up in bed, staring at Yuuri. The younger man smiles and walks over to give Viktor’s forehead a kiss.
“Dobroye utro, zvezda moya. I made breakfast. Do you want to eat in bed or in the kitchen?” Yuuri asks softly. Viktor runs a hand through his hair.
“Uhm, kitchen.” Viktor rasps, voice gravelly with the aftereffects of sleep. Yuuri nods and hesitantly holds out a hand for Viktor. The blonde takes his hand, although Yuuri feels him nearly pull his hand back before standing up. Yuuri laces their fingers together and guides Viktor out of their bedroom.
They sit into their respective chairs, as they would any other morning. Viktor gives a small smile at his breakfast. Viktor adds a bit more honey to his oatmeal and hums as he bites into his syrniki. Yuuri apparently did a good job.
“You didn’t get any flour in your hair,” Viktor muses. Yuuri runs a hand through his hair, confirming that he, in fact, did not.
“I guess I was just careful to look nice this morning.” Yuuri answers. This feels easy.
Half way through his bowl of oatmeal, and passed several whines from Makkachin, Yuuri clears his throat. Viktor looks up from his syrniki, already finished his own bowl.
“I was thinking, since it’s a warm morning, me and you could take Makkachin out, maybe pass the dog park if you’re up to it.” Yuuri says softly. Viktor looks back down at his food and swirls his fork around it, giving a little shrug. Yuuri deflates a bit. He takes another spoonful of oatmeal before he tries again.
“You know, I heard there’s a good movie in theatres. If you want to, we can see it today. Apparently it’s based off a book and-”
“Yuuri, I’m transgender.” Viktor cuts in, shoulders hunched as he stares hard at the tabletop. Yuuri pauses a moment, unsure if he heard right.
“You’re… transgender?” Yuuri asks. Viktor winces and nods.
“Oh. Well. Uh, have… have I been calling you the right name?” Yuuri asks, still a bit flabbergasted. Viktor never really seemed distressed by being called a boy. At least to Yuuri’s knowledge.
“No, I-,” Viktor’s voice shakes and breaks off. He take a deep breath. “I was born a girl.” Viktor states. Yuuri, again nods. Viktor used to be a girl. And suddenly it clicks, why Yuuri has never seen Viktor’s body completely despite bathing in the springs together, and the scars around Viktor’s chest, the underwear Yuuri found, the what if conversation they had yesterday. His Juniors!
“Oh! Is that why you had such long hair-”
“Yuuri, I lied to you! I am a freak! I-I tricked you into marrying me!” Viktor curls in on himself before continuing, cringing as he forces out the next words. “I’m not a real boy, so just start with the screaming and the tears and let's get this over with.” Viktor’s voice is thick with unshed tears. His hand slides in front of him, placing his golden engagement ring down in front of him.
Yuuri eyes bulge.
“Vitya, you… you didn’t trick me,” Yuuri starts softly. “I’m surprised, but you didn’t trick me. Viktor is Viktor right?”
“But you don’t like girl parts, do you Yuuri?” Viktor asks. He hasn’t once looked back up at Yuuri, and all Yuuri wants to do is hold and protect the frightened and meek man in front of him, or maybe run to try to let this sink in and come up with a better speech.
“I… If it’s you, maybe I wouldn’t mind it so much. You’ve got a boy’s chest, and face and voice and if I can’t get around the… uhm other area, then maybe I-I could bottom and you could ah- use things on me-” Yuuri says, growing quieter as he grew more embarrassed. “The point is I like you because you’re Vitya. You’re my Vitya. I’m not marrying the bottom half of you. I’m marrying you, all of you. Your-your cute face when you see a dog, when we cuddle on the couch, when you get excited over telling me your favorite books, I want that for the rest of my life. Okay? I want you.”
“And what if you can’t get past the fact that I still have a pussy instead of a dick? What then?” Viktor asks, not as bitterly as he could’ve. Yuuri squares his shoulders and begins speaking with the utmost confidence and sincerity.
“Then I am an asshole Vitya. 100%. But I really want to make this work. We can try every possible avenue if it comes to that. I will put in the hard work because I want to marry you Vitya. I want to take your last name, or maybe you can take mine. But I most definitely want you to believe me when I say, ya lyubyu tebya, Vitenka.”
Viktor's lip trembles. He can't help the sob that escapes him. The last time this happened, Yuuri had hurt him while trying to help him. While Yuuri wants to give him space, he knows that Viktor is a very physical person.
Yuuri takes light steps to Viktor, kneels down and wraps his arms around Viktor's torso. Viktor collapses into Yuuri and lets out ragged, loud and ugly sobs. Viktor shakes and sobs and curls tightly into Yuuri. Makkachin whines and scratches Viktor's arm, and gets enveloped into the hug, though not the bone-crushing grip he has on his still-fiancé.
Yuuri, Viktor and Makkachin sit together long enough for Yuuri's legs to lose feeling, and for a large damp spot to form on both Yuuri and Viktor's shirts.
Viktor's hiccups as he pulls back, completely dry of tears. His hair sticks up in every direction, his face is horribly flushed, eyes bloodshot and puffy, snot running down his nose. His chin is soaked with either tears or snot, or both. Yuuri stretches to grab the napkins on the table. He's careful to dab softly at Viktor's raw face. Viktor cleans himself up the best he can, still sniffling and hiccuping.
Honestly, the aftermath of a good cry made Yuuri want to cling tighter to Viktor. It's next to skating together and cooking together in terms of domesticity. Yuuri is so close to Viktor's glass heart.
“Vitenka, ya lyubov tebya,” Yuuri sighs with a love sick smile. Viktor laughs. If Viktor's eyes weren't tapped for tears, he's sure he would begin bawling again.
Yuuri is okay with who Viktor is. Yuuri is okay with the same reason so many people close to him left him for. And yet Yuuri is so ready to love him and hold him. Yuuri is completely okay with loving someone like Viktor.
They kiss each other and continue smiling, laying on Yuuri's numb legs in the center of their kitchen, dog next to them and breakfast still sitting on the table.
This is what Vitkor's future is going to be from this day forth. No lies, no shame.
He loves being Yuuri's Vitya.