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It started with one tiny scrap of a kitten. Yuuri had been preparing for his walk back to their apartment in St. Petersburg after practice when he saw Yurio crouched at the entrance of the alley. Really, for all his paranoia about his “angels” finding him, the younger skater might want to rethink wearing those leopard print Converse in public if he didn’t wish to be so easily spotted.
“Yurio are you--” his question was cut off by a pathetic mew issuing from the tenderly folded Team Russia jacket.
“Quiet, pig!” Yurio lashed out reflexively, pulling the jacket closer to himself. “Just . . . don’t tell Yakov.” Yurio had been staying in his gruff coach’s home since moving to the city for training, and the man did not appear particularly . . . nurturing, to say the least.
Yuuri stepped forward cautiously, hands held up as if approaching an actual tiger rather than an ice kitten, as Victor was fond of calling his would-be protege. “Of course not,” he assured him. “Can I see?” His childhood pet may have been a poodle, but Mari nee-san had always favored cats, so he was not entirely unfamiliar. After getting Yurio’s grumbling assent, he pulled back the folds of the jacket to reveal a small ball of orange tabby fur caked with brown mud. It mewed again, stretching its mouth to reveal needle-sharp milk teeth.
“I can’t just leave him,” Yurio spat. “He’s too young to be away from his mother as it is.”
Yuuri watched him thoughtfully, seeing Yurio’s outer shell of anger flicker with tenderness for the small creature, and silently came to a decision.
“I can keep him in my room, make up a bed in my closet. Yakov never has to--”
“Bring him to our apartment.”
A blank stare. He bit back a growl. “I told you, katsudon , I don’t need help. I can take care of him on my own.”
“Of course you can,” Yuuri soothed, silently praying that he had read Makkachin’s nature correctly. Their “apartment” was really more of a penthouse, and Victor was often preoccupied enough that he may never notice. “You can just take care of him there, away from Yakov.”
Yurio’s lips straightened into a hard line and his eyes scanned Yuuri up and down, searching for any sign of deception, ensuring he was not about to be the butt of a joke.
All these months and he still doesn’t trust my intentions .
“Fine. But only because it’ll piss off the old geezer when he finally realizes.”
Yuuri just smiled and inclined his head, silently gesturing at Yurio to follow as he continued his walk toward their apartment--okay, penthouse .
Half an hour later, Makkachin sat peering through the doorway of Victor’s least favorite guest bedroom (it had been relegated to fanmail storage after Victor declared the light in that particular room to be “too gloomy” for any of their friends or family). Yuuri’s faith in her had thankfully been justified as she had made no fuss about the kitten, now dubbed Lev, who lay surrounded by soft, old t-shirts and a truly unnecessary number of toy mice.
* - * - *
“Yuuri, why do you not wear your Wayne State t-shirt to bed anymore?” Victor’s usual heart-shaped smile turned down into a frown, his voice edging into a whine.
“That old thing? I . . .” he could see Lev in his mind’s eye, purring and kneading his paws into said shirt just this morning “. . . threw it out? It was full of holes. And the neck was all stretched out!”
“But that was what I loved about it!” Victor lamented, flinging himself against Yuuri’s back and slotting his nose into the space behind his ear with a huff. “My Yuuri is so cruel!”
“I have other shirts, Vitya”. He shifted his weight to avoid falling to the floor under the weight of his overly dramatic husband.
“It’s not the same,” Victor sniffed dejectedly. His arms tightened around Yuuri’s middle. “I suppose you will have to wear none at all.”
Victor was nothing if not easily distracted.
* - * - *
Yuri fit his spare key into the lock before bursting into the apartment, startling Victor where he stood at the kitchen island.
“Yura, are you alright?” He set the knife aside carefully beside the mess of mangled onion he had been attempting to dice.
Yuri took in the sight of him, light hair mussed back from his face, apron (an apron?!) smeared with egg yolk. “You’re the one who gave me the key, old man! To come by after practice if I wanted. What about you ? What the hell are you doing?”
“It is the anniversary of the day my Yuuri posted his Stammi Vicino video! The day I knew I had to fly to Japan to be with my love!”
Yuri wrinkled his nose. Were those actual tears in the geezer’s eyes? “Yeah, and he had no idea why you were there.” He smirked.
Victor continued as if he had heard nothing--honestly, he probably hadn’t. “--so I am making him katsudon for a special surprise!”
“Gross. I have to go throw up now.”
He left Victor blinking at the space where he had just been standing. The older man shrugged and turned back to his work, too used to such dramatics to make much of it. And seemingly unaware of the fact that Yuri had left in the opposite direction of the bathroom.
* - * - *
Weeks had gone by without major incident. His husband was safely out of sight walking Makkachin, so Yuuri slipped into the guest bedroom to check on Lev. True to his word, Yurio came over frequently to take care of him, but Yuuri liked to check on the little kitten too. If he tucked himself back into the closet where they had built a small mountain of blankets and pulled out a book, he would soon have a fuzzy, purring companion pressed against his thigh. Sure enough, after finishing a few pages he felt a soft, warm weigh settle against him. He lowered his hand gently to stroke Lev’s ears, inclining his head to peek down at him . . . and froze. The fur beneath his hand was not the ginger color he was so used to seeing, but a striped grey. Turning his head left to right frantically, he spotted Lev’s tail poking out from under a blanket. He glanced back down to confirm what he had seen and with a sigh, he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the mystery cat.
Yurri: Yura . . . what is this?
Yuri: It’s a cat, дурак .
Yuuri: Clearly. But what is a cat other than Lev doing in our apartment?
Yuri: Yakov is upping our practice times. Lev can’t be alone for that long. Rybka will keep him company .
Yuuri: Rybka .
Yuri: The other cat, piggy. I have to go. I will visit them tomorrow.
A sigh ruffled Yuuri’s bangs. Well. He traced a finger over the stripe of darker grey on Rybka’s forehead and she pressed herself closer against him in response. Well, what was one more kitten?
* - * - *
“Yuuuurri! Good evening, lubov moya !”
“ Okaeri !” Yuuri wrapped his arms around him and leaned up to kiss his husband. Frowning, he glanced down at the bulky coat and scarf between them that prevented him from pressing much closer. It was nearly June, and Victor was much more accustomed than he to the weather in this hemisphere. “Is it still so cold?”
“Well,” Victor grinned conspiratorially, “I picked up a surprise for you, my Yuuri!”
Beneath his jacket? Oh . . . He summoned up the vestiges of his Eros persona to help him look up coyly at Victor through his lashes. “Oh? A surprise? What might that be, Vitya?” He reached up to begin inching down the zipper pull when Victor’s hand clasped over the top of his, stopping his progress.
“Wait, zolotse .” He turned to the side to continue the unzipping himself and appeared to scoop something out of his jacket front.
Yuuri’s brow wrinkled in confusion, but when Victor finally turned back to present his surprise, he dropped his face to his hands: held gently against the Russian’s chest was a pure white kitten.
“Yuuri? You do not like her?”
“I . . . no, I do. She’s beautiful, Vicchan, it’s just . . .” he stammered.
“. . . And after all, you and Yurochka and I will only be getting busier as the weeks go on. It will be good for the other two to have someone to play with.”
Yuuri’s jaw dropped; he felt a wave of heat roll across his face, flushing his cheeks dark red in embarrassment. “They . . . what?”
“Ah, my Yuuri. You put far too much faith in Yura’s stealth. You know that there is nothing that he can do quietly. I knew. But I enjoyed watching you two try to conceal them! This is much better, no? And look!” The hand not concerned with cradling the kitten pulled out his ever-present phone, navigating to an online wishlist. “Look at the shelves we can get for them to climb on! And this tree!” His thumb swiped to display a wide array of what was clearly designer cat furniture.
Yuuri sighed; the man never could do things by halves. Leaning over for a better view of the screen, he absently stroked his hand along the soft fur of the cat (whom he would later learn had been dubbed Motya).
They were jolted out of their “shopping” by the sound of their front door slamming open, not surprised at all when Yuri stomped in immediately after. The teen stopped in his tracks when he spotted them in the kitten, his eyes dropping to Motya in Victors’ arms. The brief moment of panic in his eyes was quickly replaced with a mix of smugness and disgust that only Yuri was capable of exuding. “You’re taking care of that one yourself, old man,” he snarled before stomping his way to the guest room.
No wonder they had been found out, Yuuri found himself thinking as he watched the exit fondly. “Well, my love. Now we have a dog, three kittens, and a tiger,” he remarked aloud.
“ Da, lapochka . What a beautiful family we have.”