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Most of the decorations in Viktor’s apartment in Saint Petersburg, Yuuri had expected. The books that most fans assumed were for show, but Yuuri had learned Viktor actually read, he could have rattled off the titles in his sleep. Of course, there was the medal wall, where all of his medals hung, either for real or a replica because the real one was hanging somewhere else. Viktor had insisted on adding Yuuri’s medals to the wall, including replicas or stand-ins for the ones Yuuri had let the triplets put in their museum at the Ice Castle. Other than that, it was minimalist, a few paintings on the walls because they were expected, curtains, all the normal stuff. Stuff Yuuri had seen time and time again in magazines from the time he was twelve years old.
The decorations in the country house, well, most of them weren’t even Viktor’s. They belonged to various members of his family, and Viktor had just inherited them over the years and not bothered to change or do anything with. “I used to hate coming out here,” he confided in Yuuri. “Too quiet, too cold, too many memories of awful aunts and grandparents and such. Now my sister and I are the last of our family, and we both keep saying we’re going to meet here one summer and go through everything and clear it out so we can raise families here, but until very recently, I couldn’t imagine raising a family.”
Yuuri’s ears reddened, as they did any time he was reminded of just how much Viktor needed him in his life. After a year and a half together, Yuuri had just about come around to believing that Viktor really did both need and want him there, and that it was specifically him, he wasn’t just the lucky fan who had ended up winning some weird competition for Viktor’s heart. Viktor loved him, specifically, and refused to entertain the idea of anyone else being as good for him as Yuuri was.
Viktor led the way upstairs. “We might move into the master bedroom at some point, I suppose, but not before Sasha gets out here so we can go through things and redecorate, and she and her husband might want it. I don’t intend to fight them for it, if you’re just as happy staying in my old room. Somehow I can’t imagine you objecting too much to that.” Viktor winked at him as he opened the door.
Yuuri would have protested if there were any reason for him to object at all, but he loved the feeling of being somewhere that belonged to Viktor. The only thing that compared was having Viktor feeling at home somewhere that belonged to Yuuri, such as in his bedroom at Yu-Topia. The way their lives had melded together had him all mushy, and given the choice, he had every intention of telling Sasha to take the master bedroom and staying in Viktor’s.
Given the apartment in Saint Petersburg, Yuuri had expected the one place in the family country house to be similar. Minimalist, filled mostly with books and photogenic decorations. It wasn’t. It was a riot of mismatched décor, from the posters of skaters and ballet dancers on the walls, to the fake ivy that crawled between and around the posters, to the superhero action figures lined up on the desk in a tableau of a battle between good and evil, to the pile of blankets of so many different colors it almost hurt his eyes on the floor beside the bed. The thing that caught his eye the most, though, was the enormous glass penguin standing in the corner. It had to be twice the size of the real things, easily. Where in the world Viktor had gotten it and why he kept it, Yuuri could not even begin to imagine.
Viktor smirked at Yuuri staring at it. “I see you’ve found Vova. He was my best friend when I was small. My mother noticed me staring at him in a shop window when she took me to Paris near Christmas for shopping.”
“I thought you didn’t celebrate Christmas much,” Yuuri said, turning away from the penguin. “Not a Russian thing.”
“No, but I didn’t say we were Christmas shopping!” Viktor corrected him. “I said we were in Paris shopping. She was visiting friends there and brought me along because she wanted ideas for what to get me for my birthday. When she had so much trouble pulling me away from the window because I was so captivated by the penguin, she decided she’d found the answer to what you get a five-year-old who has too many toys already and more clothes than I could ever wear.” Viktor walked over to the penguin and threw his arms around it. “That was when Mama realized that she didn’t need to worry about me growing up too spoiled, because I insisted on learning to clean him to keep him sparkling myself. Of course, we had maids who helped with the bits a small child couldn’t reach safely, but every time I came out here, the very first thing I did was come up here to clean him up properly.”
“He seems pretty clean now,” Yuuri said, watching the light as he moved his head slightly.
Viktor ducked his head a little. “I… may have lied to you last week about where I went after practice, when I didn’t get back until the next evening. I came out here to make sure Vova was presentable to you. I wanted you to understand just how much he means to me and why.”
“You should let one reporter in to see this.” Off Viktor’s curious and somewhat annoyed look, Yuuri explained, “If people saw Vova and heard that, the whole thing about you and dishes would go away forever.”
“But… I don’t do the dishes anymore. I hate doing the dishes.”
“And I hate wrangling the bed into shape and vacuuming, so you do my share of those and I wash your share of the dishes.” Yuuri came over and put a hand on Viktor’s back, reaching out with the other to touch the painted scarf around Vova’s neck. “But before me, even with your depression, you always did your dishes when they needed to be done. You didn’t just throw them out after one use to get new ones, or hire someone to do them for you.”
“No, I didn’t, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
Yuuri looked up at Viktor, exasperation mingling with fondness for his slightly clueless husband. “The point is that it’s not about the dishes in the press. The dishes are a symbol for you being a spoiled little princeling who never lifts a finger to do any real work.” Yuuri had never quite believed it. He remembered that after his parents’ untimely death, Viktor had lived with Yakov, and he could not imagine Yakov letting Viktor get away with being useless around the house – no matter how much of a prodigy he was on the ice. He had been so smug when he tracked down Phichit with video evidence of Viktor cleaning a toilet and made Phichit pay up on their bet. That was the best ice cream he’d ever tasted.
“And me caring for Vova would end that when me caring for Makkachin didn’t, how, exactly?” Makkachin, having heard her name, came into the room and ran for the pile of blankets, jumping onto them almost like a puppy despite her advanced age. “The various elderly relatives who lived here when I was bringing Makka out here disapproved strongly of Makkachin being in the house. According to them, the only appropriate place for a dog was in the yard. I suffered greatly for winning that fight, but it was all worth it.”
Yuuri smiled, watching Makkachin rearrange the blankets to her liking. “And she’s who the pile of blankets is for?”
“Exactly. Lots of room for me to hide treats or toys for her, she can dig to some extent, it’s soft and comfortable and that was the one compromise I agreed to. Makkachin could be in my room, but not on my bed.” He let go of Vova and headed over to Makkachin, petting her. “Which I then violated any time I could get away with it, of course. She was very good about moving any time she heard footsteps in the hall.”
Yuuri walked over to sit on the bed. “What would they think of you bringing me here?”
“Please don’t make me answer that,” Viktor said with a shiver. “They would have hated you, and it would not be about you at all. It would have been awful. If any of them had still been alive by the time I ran off to be with you, I would have never brought you out here until they were dead. You do not deserve to deal with any of their crap.”
“Because I’m a man, or because I’m Japanese?” Yuuri asked. Neither mattered at all to Viktor or Sasha, and they both swore that their parents would have loved Yuuri because Viktor did, but elderly disapproving relatives were the same worldwide. They’d already had to deal with a great-aunt of Yuuri’s who utterly despised Viktor for being Russian and refused to have anything to do with Yuuri once it became clear that the two were now a package deal. Thankfully, the rest of Yuuri’s family had been so much better about it.
“Both, and because they’d have watched your meltdown in Sochi and not cared one bit about the extenuating circumstances, they would have been convinced that you were weak and undeserving. You’re not. No one who knows you has ever thought of you as weak.”
“But those who don’t know me have, and then there’s me,” Yuuri said. He’d believed it for far too long, until Viktor had come and gotten Press Viktor out of Yuuri’s head to be replaced by a symbol of love and belief in him. There was no doubt in Yuuri’s mind that Viktor believed in him completely, and it had made him so much more confident in himself. Thankfully, Viktor had been amazing about it when Yuuri’s belief in himself paid off and he beat out Viktor going for another Olympic gold.
“And then there’s you. I am so grateful that you’ve learned to accept that you were wrong for so long.” Viktor pulled Yuuri into a hug. “So, I’m sure it’s not what you expected, but is this good? Shall we stay here?”
“Absolutely.” Yuuri looked around again. “I’m curious, though. Vova makes sense, and Makka’s blanket pile, but the rest of it… it’s all so different from your apartment in Saint Petersburg.”
“The apartment is Press Viktor’s home. This room, this is Vitya’s home. There’s a reason I don’t invite the press out here ever. The apartment, I’m limited, I have to be someone presentable for magazine spreads and interviews and letting the public in. You’ve seen how invasive it can be when the camera crews come in to take pictures, how it never really feels like home for days after they’re gone. This place, I can just be me. I can do whatever I want here, and I don’t let people in here unless they are very close. Sasha’s been in here, you’ve been in here, the caretaker’s been in here to make sure everything’s all right and no maintenance issues cropped up, but Valera’s never been in here. Chris hasn’t. We may change that – after all, this is now your place, too, and I know you’ll probably want to invite your friends in – but that’s how it’s been.” Like Viktor’s heart, he didn’t say, but Yuuri heard it in his voice. He loved that idea. Yuuri would consider very carefully who he would invite back here. Yurio, of course. Phichit and Yuuko, and likely Christophe, just because of how important he was to Viktor. The idea of a quiet retreat, though, where they could shut out everybody but themselves and their closest friends? This was the best thing Yuuri could have dreamt of when Viktor suggested they move into the country house to raise their children.