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It had been one year, eleven months, and fifteen days since Viktor Nikiforov had had his heart stolen by a drunk Japanese skater with dance moves that should, quite frankly, be illegal.
It had been one year, eight months, and 24 days since Viktor had seen said Japanese skater skating his Aria on YouTube and decided to fly to his hometown to coach (and woo) him.
It had been eleven months, nineteen days, and approximately twenty one hours since Yuuri Katsuki had slipped a golden ring onto his finger in that cathedral in Barcelona, since he had slipped the matching one onto Yuuri’s hand; since they’d become engaged.
And it was one day until Yuuri’s birthday, and Viktor was at a complete and total loss as to what to do for it.
He’d spent the better part of two years with Yuuri. He’d been around him nearly every day. They’d been living together in Saint Petersburg since last season’s Japanese Nationals had finished in January. He knew his skater and fiancé better than he knew himself some days. He knew he hated mornings, but could be coaxed out of bed with a cup of coffee and the promise of a nice breakfast and cuddles before practice. He knew Yuuri would sometimes forget to eat when he was having a hard practice, when he couldn’t get a section of his choreography just how he wanted it. He knew when Yuuri’s anxiety was bad and when he needed to use the secondary rink to practice figures or take Makkachin for a walk alone to clear his head. He knew on those days that when Yuuri came back to him, he would need Viktor to do nothing but lounge on the couch with him and watch whatever they could find on TV.
But with everything he knew, Viktor did not know how to do birthdays.
Viktor didn’t pay much attention to his own birthday, really. It had always been overshadowed by Christmas anyway, but he’d been practicing on his birthday for years now. Last year had been no exception since he had been trying to finalize his choreography for nationals, Euros, and Worlds at the time.
Yuuri’s birthday last year had been a whirlwind. Their practices had been intense after the Rostelecom cup, and they had just done dinner with Yuuri’s family, and obviously the Nishigoris and Minako. It was simple and quiet and perfect.
Viktor was at a complete loss now, though. It was just him and Yuuri. He could include their rink mates, but only Yurio would have any knowledge of what Yuuri would enjoy. Plus, Yuuri might get overwhelmed if he had to be around Mila and Georgi outside of practice hours. He likes his quiet time, after all, and Viktor had a feeling that would be especially true on his birthday.
“Viktor! How was that?”
Viktor blinked a few times and glanced to where Yuuri was on the ice, chest heaving after running through his free program. “Oh, great! Make sure you’re keeping your elbows tucked in on your lutz, the landing was a bit wobbly.”
“Right! Got it!” Yuuri glided over to the rink exit, wiping his blades off with his glove before taking his guards from Viktor and slipping them on. “Want me to watch your run through since Yakov is still with Yurio?”
“Da. You know I’m always open to your input,” Viktor said. He passed his fiancé his blade guards and slid out into the empty rink on gold blades. He took his starting pose and waited for Yuuri to start his music.
He slid through his free program with ease, landing each jump cleanly. He glided back to the exit and dusted his blades off.
Yuuri praised his program, as always, though he did make some suggestions regarding Viktor’s footwork, which he took to heart and noted in his notebook. Yuuri was the king of step sequences, and Viktor would listen to that advice til the day he retired.
The rest of their practice was spent working on Yuuri’s jumps and their exhibitions for the final in two weeks. It was a hard two hours, but they made it and trudged out into the snow on aching feet and sore muscles. Viktor was always thankful his apartment was just a couple blocks from the rink for that very reason.
They reached their building just as new snow was starting to fall (which had Yuuri pausing and tilting his head back to let the flakes hit his face, a trait Viktor had discovered during a snowfall back in Hasetsu and found completely adorable). Their boots thunked as they made their way up the three flights of stairs and down the hall to their door. Makkachin greeted them at the door, and Viktor attached her leash to her collar so he could take her for her evening walk while Yuuri started their dinner.
That was another thing he’d learned; Yuuri was a fantastic cook. He could make even instant ramen taste good. Not that Viktor was a bad cook, far from it, but there was something about Yuuri’s culinary skills that sent his taste buds into orbit.
He spent a little extra time out with Makkachin, window shopping for anything he could get Yuuri for his birthday. Nothing caught his eye. It didn’t help that Yuuri didn’t really give him ideas, either. He’d been needling him for weeks to get anything out of him that he’d want, but nothing. So far Viktor’s only ideas had been things for their wedding next summer (which really weren’t good for a birthday present) or a new pair of skates, maybe custom like his with gold blades and the Japanese flag on the heel. Yuuri certainly deserved them, but getting new skates mid-season just...wasn’t smart. Maybe for when Yuuri took his second gold at Worlds in March. Because he would, and Viktor would gladly stand below him again.
Viktor ended up returning to the apartment empty handed, with the exception of two coffees he’d gotten from the café nearby. His nose was filled with the smell of spices and fish custard when he opened the door. The smell was so good, he had to make sure he wasn’t drooling like Makkachin. He released his beloved poodle from her leash, proceeding to put up his coat and boots before entering the apartment proper.
He found Yuuri in the living room, studying one of their pictures on the wall that hung between their medals from Worlds. Viktor came up to him, pressing a kiss to his temple to get his attention. Once he had it, he pressed one of the cups into Yuuri’s hand.
“Spasibo,” Yuuri murmured, taking a sip of the warm beverage and leaning back against Viktor’s chest. Viktor wound his free arm around Yuuri’s waist so he could hold him close.
“Ie ie.”
Viktor’s eyes flicked to the picture Yuuri was studying. It was of them in front of Hasetsu Castle, Yuuri proudly holding up his GPF silver medal. It was probably the last picture they’d taken together before Japanese Nationals and Viktor’s return to Russia so he could prepare his apartment for him and Yuuri. He looked back to Yuuri now and rested his chin on the other man’s shoulder. The reigning world champion had a peaceful look on his face, but his eyes were distant.
“What’s going on in there?” Viktor asked, nosing the side of Yuuri’s neck.
“Huh?”
“You’re thinking. You’ve got your thinking face on.” Viktor lifted his head and gently turned Yuuri in his arms. “So what’s up?”
“Oh, nothing really.” Yuuri shrugged and glanced back at the picture. “Just lost in thought, I guess. It feels like it’s been so long since we were in Hasetsu.”
“I get what you mean.”
“It’s funny, this time last year, I thought I’d never move away from there again. It feels weird knowing I was only home for nine months before moving away again.” Yuuri let out the smallest of laughs before he pulled away. “I need to take dinner out. Set the table?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”
Yuuri flashed Viktor his brightest smile and kissed his cheek before moving to the kitchen. “C’mon Makka, let’s feed you, too.”
The poodle barked and trotted after her second human, and Viktor watched them go. He stayed still for a second before he got an idea. A wonderful, marvelous idea that made him pump his fist to himself before he followed after the man and dog that were his family.
*******
“You sure you’ll be okay on your own this afternoon?”
“Yes, Vitya, I’m sure,” Yuuri said with an eye roll. He leaned against the rink wall as Viktor slipped his gloves and coat on. “The ice makes me comfortable, remember?”
“I know, I know.” Viktor sighed softly. “I just feel bad leaving you all of a sudden like this.”
“It’s not a big deal. Really. Yurio wanted me to run through his short program with him anyway. I’ll be fine. Go run your errands.”
“Okay, I’m going. Make sure you work on your jumps, too. And fine tune your step sequence in your own short. You’ve been rushing it.”
“Got it. I’ll record the step sequence for us to review later.”
“Sounds good.” Viktor bent down to peck Yuuri’s lips once, earning a shout of “get a damn room!” from the Russian Tiger across the rink. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
And with that Viktor left the rink. He let out a soft, relieved sigh. Yuuri wasn’t suspicious. Good.
He pulled his phone out as he started walking down the street and made a call, speaking in rapid Russian.
“Yes. I’ll send the picture over as soon as I hang up. When can I—five? Perfect. Thank you.”
He hung up and paused at a crosswalk to send the email before pocketing his phone again. One thing down, plenty more to go.
His next stop was an artisan tea shop. The babushka who ran it was sweet and extremely helpful, even if she tugged Viktor down by his scarf just to pinch his cheeks. That was followed by a trip to an international food market, and then a florist. By the end, he was regretting not driving today, but taking the car to the rink might have given Yuuri a hint. Or not. Though he supposed he could have gone home before going shopping. Oh well.
He headed home to drop off his afternoon purchases and put things away. He then hooked Makkachin onto her leash for a walk down to the bakery. The girl working the counter let him bring his poodle in, and even spoiled her with a few treats. He knew there was a reason he liked this place.
The cake he’d ordered was brought out in just a few minutes, and it brought out his heart-shaped smile.
He paid, and made sure to tip them well, and headed back home with the biggest grin on his face and a spring in his step.
*******
“Vitya, I’m home!”
Makkachin lifted her head from the bed in the corner of the living room before letting out a bark. She darted from her spot, claws skittering on the hardwood floor as she ran to greet Yuuri. Viktor chuckled softly and wiped his hands on a dish towel so he could go greet his fiancé properly.
Yuuri was laughing and cooing over Makkachin when he reached the entrance way, the poodle twisting and turning to press the side of her body against Yuuri’s legs. The Japanese skater responded with plenty of pets and scratches.
“Okay, Makka, enough. Let him in,” Viktor said, only half scolding. Makkachin looked at him, but did as she was told, clacking her way back to her bed. Her leaving let Yuuri finally put his gear bag down, and Viktor came over to take his coat for him.
“Thanks,” Yuuri said, twisting around to catch Viktor’s lips with his own.
Viktor let out a soft hum and rubbed his nose against Yuuri’s. “Welcome.” He put his fiancé’s coat away, and then took his hand. “Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“You...what?”
“You’ll see.”
He tugged Yuuri in through the living room and towards the dining room, but Yuuri stopped.
“You set the kotatsu up?” he asked.
Viktor glanced back at the blanket draped and heated table and nodded. “I had the spare time to. We’ve been busy since we got back from the NHK and then the Cup of China happened. Figured today was as good as any.”
“I guess but—hey, we never had that tea set before.” Yuuri pulled out of Viktor’s grip to go examine the porcelain pot and mugs that set on top of the kotatsu. They were white with hand painted cherry blossoms, no two pieces exactly the same. Viktor watched as Yuuri picked up one of the cups, feeling the weight and admiring the craftsmanship. “Viktor, where did you—“
“You can admire it later, I’ve got something for you.” Viktor took the cup and put it down, just so he could pull Yuuri into the dining room. He’d worked too hard on this for him to get distracted by the details. Not that the details weren’t important, but that was for later. They had dinner first.
Yuuri squeaked and tried to protest, but was stopped as Viktor placed him by his chair at the table. The table was set up with two bowls and the nice chopsticks and small cups with sweet potato shōchu and a small bonsai tree in the middle. There was even a “Happy Birthday” banner hanging on the wall (which, it took forever to find one in English).
“Viktor, what in the world—“ Yuuri cut himself off, taking a deep sniff of the air. Viktor watched carefully, swallowing and wringing his hands. “Is that...where did you find katsudon out here?”
“I...I made it.”
Yuuri stared at him for a minute before looking into the bowl full of rice and egg and pork. His chocolate cherry eyes were wide as they darted from the bowl to Viktor and back again.
“How did you even—“
“I remembered from making it with your mom last year,” Viktor said. “I don’t know if I got everything right, but I think it’s pretty close?”
An awkward silence fell between them. And then Yuuri picked up the chopsticks next to his bowl and scooped up a piece of pork. Viktor’s heart thundered in his chest as he watched Yuuri chew. Was it good? Was it bad? Had he screwed up?
Yuuri’s hand suddenly came up to his mouth and tears filled his beautiful eyes. Viktor’s heart sunk and a lead balloon made its home in his stomach. “Yuuri? Is it too spicy? Is it bad? I’m sorry, I should’ve asked—“
“It’s perfect!”
Viktor stood stunned as tears streamed down Yuuri’s cheeks. His fiancé gulped and drew in shaky breaths. He grabbed the end of the sleeve of his hoodie and wiped at his eyes.
“It’s perfect, Vitya,” Yuuri repeated, his voice strained but steady. “It’s as good as Mom’s. It might even be better, actually.”
“Really?”
Yuuri nodded and hiccupped. Viktor’s heart melted and he pulled Yuuri into his arms. The Japanese man shook, just a little. He buried his face into Viktor’s neck. Viktor wouldn’t have him any other way.
Well, that was a lie because there were plenty of other ways, but for now it was just right.
Yuuri sniffed and pulled back to look up at Viktor, who used his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears. “What made you make katsudon? And why now? That’s supposed to be for winning competitions.”
Viktor bit his lip, his gaze caught by Yuuri’s. God, even teary filled and red his eyes were beautiful.
“I...when I saw you staring at that picture yesterday and you talked about Hasetsu, I...I thought you were homesick.”
Yuuri blinked. And blinked. And then laughed, earning a pout from the Russian.
“Hey! I was worried.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” Yuuri sobered up and grinned. “You aren’t wrong, I guess I have been a little homesick lately. But Viktor, home for me is wherever you are. Hasetsu would be miserable without you.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Yuuri leaned up and kissed Viktor, his arms winding around his shoulders. “Thank you. But, I have to ask...why the tea set? And why set up the kotatsu by yourself?”
Viktor shrugged. “I wanted to make it feel as much like Japan as possible,” he said. “And it’s your birthday, so I wanted more than just food.”
“You didn’t have to do anything, you know.”
“But I have to do something to celebrate your golden birthday!”
“Viktor,” Yuuri deadpanned. “I’m 25, not 50.”
“Okay, technically it’s silver—“
“I think that only applies to anniversaries.”
“—but I’m calling it golden because it’s your first birthday since becoming a world champion. And you're my best win ever. So golden.”
Yuuri’s cheeks dusted pink and he glanced towards the ground. The reaction made Viktor’s heart skip a beat and he had to physically restrain himself from cooing. Yuuri was just too cute. It should be illegal to be that cute.
“If I’m gold does that make you silver?” Yuuri asked.
“Why do I have to be silver?” Viktor asked, pouting.
“Aside from the obvious?” Yuuri reached up, ruffling Viktor’s precious silver locks. “Only one of us can take home the gold. If I have to make you be silver so you can have gold, I’ll gladly take it.”
“Yuuri!!!”
The skating legend’s arms tightened around his fiancé, lifting him off the ground. He nuzzled his face against Yuuri’s cheek, which only made the younger man laugh.
“Hey, down boy!”
“What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?” Viktor cried. Yes, he knew he was being dramatic, and no, he didn’t care.
“I think existing is enough.”
“ Yuuri!! ”
Yuuri snickered and pulled himself away from Viktor’s octopus grip. “Calm down,” he teased. “What’s with the bonsai?” he asked, changing the topic.
Viktor calmed down out of his Yuuri-euphoria enough to glance at the tree. “It was the only thing I could think of to get that was Japanese that I didn’t have to order.”
“Vitya, do you even know how to care for a bonsai?”
“The lady at the florist gave me instructions!”
“Viktor…”
“It’ll be fine! We’ll take good care of it!”
“Or we’ll kill it in a week.”
“Nonsense!”
Yuuri rolled his eyes and, finally, sat down in his seat. Viktor followed suit, watching with adoration as the love of his life ate his birthday dinner. He let Yuuri talk in between praises, listening to him speak of Yurio like he was a younger brother (an angry, angsty younger brother, but a brother all the same).
They cleared the table together when they finished, and Yuuri insisted on helping clean up the kitchen. Viktor took the chance to hug his fiancé from behind as he put the rice cooker away.
“Happy birthday, my Yuuri,” he whispered, kissing the side of his neck.
“Thank you, Vitya.” Yuuri turned in his arms and returned the embrace. He pulled back and took Viktor’s hand. “Come on, let’s have tea and watch a movie under the kotatsu.”
“Anything for you.”
Yuuri smiled and started for the living room, only to pause. “Viktor?”
“Hm?”
“Are there any other surprises?”
Viktor grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have a cake with Hasetsu castle printed on it.”
“Viktor!”
“What?”
“It’s competition season!”
“And it’s your birthday! We can afford a little cake.”
“Okay, fine. You win.” Yuuri turned away, but then turned right back. “How big is the cake?”
“Uh...a full sheet cake?”
“Oh my God , Viktor.”
Yuuri’s face turned exasperated, and Viktor had to laugh because that was Yuuri’s “I am so done with your bullshit” face. He knew he was a bit...extra. And he knew Yuuri loved it, even if he got annoyed.
“If it helps,” Viktor said, “I plan on taking some to the rink tomorrow.”
“That helps. Slightly,” Yuuri said. The Japanese man shook his head and pulled Viktor to the kotatsu. He fired it up while Victor selected a movie. They curled up underneath the blanket, cups of tea in their hands and Viktor’s arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.
Within an hour, Yuuri had fallen asleep against Viktor’s side, and the Russian was filled with so much warmth and love and life.
It had been one year, eleven months, and sixteen days since Viktor Nikiforov had met Yuuri Katsuki and had his heart stolen. And right here, right now, he knew he’d gladly give it away all over again if it meant he could have moments like this for the rest of his life.