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Yuuri should’ve known that Victor would spoil their daughter rotten.
The first sign should have been the first day Yuuri started living with Victor in St. Petersburg after the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona.
“Welcome home, Yuuri!” Victor cheered, opening the door to his apartment for both of them to squeeze into. Victor had just picked Yuuri up from the airport, both of them exhausted from the odd timing of Yuuri’s early flight.
Yuuri huffed, dragging in their luggage. He dropped let go of everything in his arms, feeling the ache relieve itself. Victor’s apartment was classy, with blue and wood colored tones, making it seem homey and straight out of a magazine. Not a lot of personal decorations. Yuuri mused as he dragged his hand along the granite counters in the kitchen.
Yuuri’s attention was pulled away when Makkachin barked, pawing at the diamond crested bowl below Yuuri’s feet. “What’s that Makka? Do you want food?” Yuuri cooed, bending down to ruffle the soft curls behind her ears.
Makkachin’s tail wagged faster back and forth as if she was agreeing with Yuuri.
“Hmmm, where does Victor keep your food?” Yuuri murmured to himself as he dug through the lower cabinets.
“Yuuri, I see you’re already making yourself at home!” Yuuri snapped up from his bent-over position, almost embarrassed to be caught digging through Victor’s cabinets. Don’t be ridiculous, Yuuri. He chastised himself. This is your home too now, “I was just wondering where you kept Makkachin’s food.”
“Ah! Her food is in the fridge.”
Yuuri tilted his head, looking behind them at the fridge, “You keep her food in the fridge?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want it to go bad!”
Go bad? When they had Vicchan, they never kept his kibble in the fridge. Maybe Victor has fancy dog food that needs to refrigerated?
Victor opened the fridge, and from where Yuuri could see over his shoulder, there wasn’t much filling up the contents. Except.
Except.
There were two clear bins in the fridge, one labeled “Makkachin: Meats” and the other “Makkachin: Veggies.”
Yuuri continued to watch in silence as Victor pulled out the two bins, placing them on the counter. “Yuuri, could you pass me Makka’s bowl? It should be on the drying rack.”
Yuuri retrieved the large metal bowl, still terribly confused with what Victor was doing.
Victor hummed, reaching into the meat bin and unwrapping chicken legs, gently placing them in Makkachin’s bowl.
Finally, Yuuri snapped out of his stupor, “Victor, what are you doing?”
Victor stopped humming to himself, turning his smile to Yuuri, “I’m feeding our dear puppy, Solnishko, we don’t want her to go hungry.”
“I-,” Yuuri started, watching his fiance’s deft fingers break apart pieces of broccoli into the bowl, “You feed her this every day?”
“Of course! Makkachin is on a raw diet,” Victor confirmed, “I usually don’t feed her kibble, only in emergencies or if someone else is watching her.”
Yuuri had to fight to keep his mouth from dropping to the floor. He watched as Victor cracked in a raw egg, dropped in a scoop of powder, then crack in fish oil. “The fish oil helps keep her hair shiny and soft,” Victor cooed as he admired the dish in front of him. Victor turned to Yuuri, “That’s why she’s so irresistible.”
Makkachin let out a little bark of impatience as if to remind Yuuri and Victor that she was still there.
Yuuri watched in silence as Victor settled Makkachin’s food into a raised holder so that Makkachin wouldn’t have to bend down so much. She sat patiently, her tail wagging as she looked only at Victor.
“Okay, Makka!” Victor grinned as Makkachin instantly began eating enthusiastically.
“Victor, your dog eats better than both of us combined,” Yuuri commented, noting the organic labels from an expensive grocery store on all the meat and vegetables. He glanced at the fridge, which was now empty without Makkachin’s containers in it, “I’m mostly impressed you buy such nice ingredients that you don’t even eat. Your fridge is mostly empty.”
Victor’s eyes were wide, “Of course!” he cried out incredulously, “I won’t settle for anything less for my Makkachin. Her diet is veterinarian-approved, and it is better knowing what ingredients she’s eating. I would give the world for her.”
Yuuri smiled, placing a quick peck on Victor’s cheek, “You’re ridiculous, you know. I shouldn’t have expected anything less.”
Victor’s arms encompassed him, drawing their bodies close together, “And of course I hope you know that applies to you too. You deserve only the best in this world.”
Yuuri smothered his face into Victor’s shoulder, his heart rate picking up with his next words, “I hope you know that applies to husbands and coaches too. I only pick the best.”
“Yuuurrriiii!”
Yuuri smiles fondly as he remembered how young and excited they were back then.
But now, he’s packing leftovers into their five-year-old daughter, Emiko’s, lunch, listening as Victor spoils their daughter in the living room. Instead of the sparsely decorated apartment he and Victor once resided in, they traded it for a cozy family home in Japan with markings of their family left everywhere. There are photos of their wedding and of Emiko on every flat surface that Victor could squeeze them on, as well as scattered pencils and dog toys sprawled on the floor.
Victor’s brushing Emiko’s hair as she babbles about how excited she is to see her friends and about the new book they read yesterday. His gentle fingers card through her hair, catching gently on the knots from her boisterous sleep habits.
“Emi-chan, would you like karaage or gyoza?” Yuuri calls out, his chopsticks hovering over the bento box.
There was a pause in her babbling before Emiko started up again, “Can I have a little bit of both, Otou-san? Please?”
Yuuri hummed his approval as he places two of each into the box. He glanced over at his husband, watching his fingers move with the same familiar grace he uses on ice. He quickly finishes off the second dutch braid in Emiko’s hair, finishing them each off with yellow bows.
Emiko turns around and throws her gangly arms around Victor, “Thank you, Papa! You know all my friends at school think my braids are so pretty? And I always tell them that my Papa does the best braids in the world!”
Yuuri lets out a small chuckle, remembering the endless nights Victor slaved over watching videos on how to braid hair, just because Emiko mentioned she liked the way braids look. Victor had to beg Yurio (with the promise of Yuuri’s katsudon) just to practice the intricate braids on his hair before he tried doing them on Emiko.
And now, Emiko is running her tiny hands through her dark braids, admiring the way they lay on her shoulder.
Yuuri smiles, his head resting on his hand as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him.
Years ago, he could have never imagined this amount of bliss to come from something so simple, but now he could not imagine his life without them.
Victor kisses her forehead, his eyes lingering shut for a second before pulling back to admire their daughter, “For you, Emiko-chan, I will only give you the best in this world.”