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“Yakov, this isn’t Makkachin.”
“What do you mean? It’s a brown poodle.”
So according to his coach, Victor owns every brown poodle on Earth.
And though that idea would normally be exciting, Victor can't help but feel despair for his missing dog.
Victor felt his eyebrows twitch as he gaped at his Yakov. He knew that the older man’s eyesight had begun to dwindle and he'd only met Makkachin twice, but how could he pick up the wrong dog.
He clutched the end of the red leash to his chest, clenching his eyes shut and whispering a quick prayer that wherever Makkachin was, she was safe and wasn’t panicking.
The dog that was staring up at Victor with beady eyes was much, much smaller than his Makkachin and also a darker color than her mocha curls.
And also male.
Victor cursed under his breath in Russian and scooped up the miniature poodle into his arms. Hopefully, he could get back to the groomers and Makkachin would still be there.
Well this was definitely the last time he would ask Yakov to pick up Makkachin while Victor was in an interview.
“Vitya, where are you going?”
“I need to get my dog back.”
“Celestino, thank you so much for picking up Vicchan from the groomers for me!” Yuuri cupped his phone to his ear, jogging slightly towards the rink.
“Of course, I owed you a favor after you watched over the junior skaters for me,” Celestino’s gruft voice came over the receiver.
“I’m about ten minutes away, I’ll come to your office and pick him up.”
“Sounds good, Yuuri.”
They ended the call and Yuuri continued his quick walk to the rink. As he arrived, he briskly made his way up the stairs. He stopped when he heard his name being called.
“Yuuri.”
Yuuri balked, his face tilting up to meet Phichit’s gaze from where he stood at the top of the stairs. The tone of his best friend’s voice seemed uncharacteristically cautious, his normally naturally tan skin more ashen than usual.
“Hi, Phichit. How was practice?”
“Good. Uh, Yuuri—don’t panic,” Phichit started, glancing nervously behind him.
Despite his friend’s caution, Yuuri could feel his heart rate pick up and his palms begin to sweat profusely. “Is everything okay?”
Instead of a reply, Yuuri heard a low, playful bark emit from behind Phichit’s legs.
That was not Vicchan’s bark.
A much larger, lighter poodle excitedly hopped down the stairs towards Yuuri, their tail creating a strong breeze with it whipping back and forth.
Yuuri stumbled and clutched the railing when the oversized dog placed their forepaws on Yuuri’s sweater, their tongue lolling to the side with blissful ignorance.
“Yuuri, I’m sorry, they must’ve given me the wrong dog when I went to pick up Vicchan from the groomers!” Celestino’s slightly guilty face peered around Phichit. “I didn’t even realize until Phichit came in and asked where Vicchan was.”
“It’s not your fault Ciao Ciao.”
He couldn’t blame Celestino. He’s never even met Vicchan. All he knew was that he was a brown poodle. Yuuri swallowed down the imminent feeling of panic building in his chest and turned back to the poodle in his arms. This dog was much heavier than his tiny poodle, and the weight made his arms ache with the strain.
“C’mon, Yuuri. Let’s go back to the groomers and get Vicchan back. It’ll be an easy fix,” Phichit travelled down the stairs and removed the oversized pooch from Yuuri’s arms.
Yuuri could only numbly nod and followed Phichit blindly out the doors.
The dog had a surprising amount of strength and Yuuri found himself being half dragged on the sidewalk as they followed the GPS towards the groomers.
Victor inhaled deeply as he faced the employees at the groomers. The receptionist was completely apologetic, sifting quickly through clients to see who left with Makkachin.
He had been hoping that the owner of the dog he was holding—Vicchan, as he learned earlier—would have realized that their dog wasn’t here and would have subsequently waited in the clinic.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Nikiforov,” Eddie profusely apologized. “It looks like Yuuri Katsuki has Makkachin right now. I’ll give him a call.”
Victor ran an irritated hand through his bangs, not quite listening to what the groomer was saying. It was already a long day being questioned about his future plans and his impending retirement. All Victor was looking forward to was snuggling with his Makkachin on the couch while watching cheesy sitcoms.
Almost as if the small dog in his arms noticed his predicament, Vicchan began to lap at Victor’s cheek, as if to reassure him.
He grinned, gently scratching the poodle behind his floppy ear. “Aren’t you a good boy, Vicchan?”
Vicchan’s tail thumped insistently against Victor’s arm and he let out a small bark of agreement.
The jingling of the bells met Victor’s ears as another customer rushed in, slight panic dancing in his brown eyes.
It was a maelstrom of chaos, to the point where Victor could barely identify what was happening. Victor’s eyes lit up as he recognized the fuzzy shape of Makkachin. She managed to tug the leash out of the man’s hand and bound up to Victor.
Surprisingly, Vicchan quite literally flew out of Victor’s arms towards the handsome dark-haired man, his tail a blur as it wagged.
“Vicchan!”
“Makkachin!”
Victor grinned as he ran his fingers through Makkachin’s soft curls and received loving kisses from his pooch.
He finally looked up at the other man who was clutching Vicchan close to his chest and staring at Victor with wide eyes, “I’m really sorry about the mix up. My coach picked up Makkachin today, and I guess he doesn’t really know what she looks like.”
There was another man standing next to the dark-haired man, his face split into a wide grin, “I’m Phichit, this is Yuuri.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Victor.”
“I know! I loved your free skate last season, it was breath-taking,” Yuuri blurted out before blushing in embarrassment.
Victor squinted at Yuuri, recognition swirling in his brain. The dark hair, the lithe figure, the big eyes. “Oh! You’re Katsuki Yuuri. I love your step sequences, you have to teach me how you did the one from your short program in 2015.” Yuuri looked a bit different from when he was skating, his hair messily draped over his forehead and his expressive eyes masked with blue glasses.
Beside Yuuri, Phichit made a noise of excitement, “I know for a fact Yuuri is available for the rest of the day. You guys should walk your dogs together.”
“Phichit!” Yuuri protested. “Sorry, Victor. If you’re busy, you don’t have to.”
Victor appreciated the flush that dusted Yuuri’s cheeks delicately, his wide eyes incredulous.
“I would love to go on a walk with you. Phichit, are you going to join us?”
Phichit shook his head, “Nope, I have an essay due tomorrow that I need to start. I’ll come next time. Speaking of that, I should head back, I’ll see you later Yuuri. Nice to meet you Victor.”
They both watched as Phichit grinned cheekily at both of them before leaving out the door.
Victor held out his hand towards Yuuri, “Are you ready?”
To his surprise Yuuri didn’t put his hand in Victor’s.
Instead Yuuri deposited a large doggy bag with Makkachin’s poop in it with a wrinkled nose, “I would compliment you on what you’re feeding her, but unfortunately I was the one who had to pick it up.”
Victor chuckled, tossing the bag into a nearby trash can, “I guess the least I can do is promise to pick up Vicchan’s poop.”
Yuuri glanced between the two dogs, obviously eyeing the size difference, “You’ll have to pick up Vicchan’s poop for the next week to make up for Makkachin.”
“Deal.”
Three years later
“Hey, Claudia, look at this photo we got!”
“What is it, Eddie?”
The two groomers leaned into the counter, looking at the torn elegant envelope and the photo that laid on top of it.
In the photo was Victor and Yuuri—long time clients of theirs—dressed in gorgeous white suits. They were grinning into each other’s eyes, their hands clasped together. The background was gorgeous, full of blue roses and a shining lake in the background.
“What a gorgeous wedding photo!” Claudia gushed.
“Look at the bottom.”
Next to Yuuri’s and Victor’s legs sat Vicchan and Makkachin, both wearing white bows. Vicchan was staring straight at the camera with an aloof expression on his face while Makkachin stared straight up at Victor’s silver hair, panting happily.
They both cooed at the adorable photo, which in their eyes was a quintessential wedding photo. Your loved one and both of your dogs. Perfection.
“Oh there’s something written on the back!”
Thank you for swapping our dogs all those years ago.
Best wishes,
Yuuri and Victor
(And Makkachin and Vicchan)