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Yuuri had been curled up on the couch for the two hours it took Viktor to contact all of their students and share the training programs they expected students to do over the closure period. He still tapped at his phone, his face blank but his shoulders tellingly stiff.
“Oops! The wifi went down!” Viktor pulled Yuuri’s phone out of his hands.
“Viktor,” Yuuri whined, reaching out for his phone. It was all in Japanese, but Viktor could recognize the topic--coronavirus.
“I made you hot chocolate,” Viktor held out the steaming mug-- he had chosen the one he had painted for Yuuri at a pottery studio on one of their dates on purpose. “Wiiiith soymilk!” Viktor sang.
Yuuri’s face softened, and he took the mug with a soft smile. He watched Viktor go back to the kitchen, setting down Makkachin’s mug of bone broth and taking the mug that Yuuri had painted for Viktor during the same date. Yuuri had painted the cup a seafoam green with neat patterns of poodles, pawprints and hearts. Viktor had painted Yuuri's sky blue and managed a cute, if wall-eyed apricot poodle. They had worked together on a mug for makkachin, covering it with Russian and Japanese ‘good girls’ and crooked hearts.
“Come here,” Yuuri said over the lip of his mug. Viktor sank into the couch, their thights brushing before Yuuri carefully climbed onto Vitor’s lap. Viktor took Yuuri’s free hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand and trying to ignore the bitten nails and raw cuticles.
“It’s going to be okay.” Viktor hummed, comforted by Yuuri’s weight. He knew Yuuri was worried-- he hadn’t even brought up their diet plan or how the hot chocolate would go right to his hips.
“My parents are going to go bankrupt and I can’t even do anything to help because who wants to pay to see ice skating when the world is ending?” Yuuri said in a rush, as if Viktor’s comfort had been a pin to the balloon of his anxiety.
“We have enough in savings to help,solnyshko.” Viktor hummed, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. “Just because the rink is closed doesn’t mean we’re out of options.”
“No one has money to buy cologne ads.” Yuuri answered sharply.
“Yuuri,” Viktor kissed Yuuri’s cheek just in front of his ear. “We can do other things. I know it’s hard, but there are ways we can try to keep the normal.”
Yuuri laughed softly. “Keep the normal,” He repeated under his breath, taking a long sip of hot chocolate.
“Hm? What’s so funny?”
“Your english.” Yuuri smiled, turning and kissing Viktor back.
“Okay, okay. Some of us never got to live in an English speaking country for five years. I’m sorry I don’t yeet or dab the words all the time.”
Yuuri laughed harder, even snorting adorably. “What are you even saying?”
“I can speak the English the kids use these days, you know. Don’t I get credit for that?”
“Sure, old man.” Yuuri smiled, setting his mug down on the coffee table and turning to straddle Viktor’s hips.
“Yuuri, you wound me.” Viktor cried dramatically, covering his eyes with one hand and throwing his head back.
“Okay, okay, you’re not old.” Yuuri giggled. Makkachin jumped up onto the couch with them, wagging her tail eagerly.
“My dear husband called me an old man. How will I ever recover?” Viktor whined. Makkachin howled in tune with her dad.
“Vitya, please!” Yuuri giggled. “I saw your amazon order! No old man orders four liters of lube!”
Viktor’s eyes sparkled even as his cheeks colored pink. “We don’t know how long the shelter-in-place order will last, dorogoy.”
Yuuri turned just as red, playfully slapping at Viktor and pushing away the free hand that played at his hip. “What are we going to do with six liters of lube?” Yuuri didn’t dare look at Viktor, or the calculation and realization in his eyes.
“I’m sure we could figure something out… maybe livestream it for some extra cash,” Viktor hummed.
“Viktor, no!” Yuuri gasped.
“Viktor yes,” Viktor teased.