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Yuuri walked into the apartment, blinked a few times, and walked right back out. That wasn’t right. That was not what his living room was supposed to look like.
The poodle on the couch, still a tiny thing but growing, was taking some getting used to. Makkachin was a wonderful dog who had passed of old age, and he and Viktor were still in the process of getting used to the new puppy. They loved her a ridiculous amount, of course, as she was proving to be just as amazing and special a dog as Makka and Vicchan had been, but she was new.
But she wasn’t the problem.
The problem was the matching Viktor Nikiforov cardboard cutouts. Contrary to what the press loved to assume and insist, Viktor was nowhere near vain enough to have one cardboard cutout of himself. Yes, Yuuri had one when he was in college, but he’d left it behind in Detroit when he went back home to Japan, and he’d never have brought it to Russia with him. In Russia, he had the real thing to look at, and for all Viktor was one of the most photogenic men alive, no cardboard cutout could compete with the real thing.
It was even the same cardboard cutout. Probably not the exact same specific one, but it was the same outfit and pose as the one he’d had in his room in Detroit. A suspicion occurred to him, and he pulled out his phone. “Phichit, did you do this?”
“You’re… gonna need to be more specific,” Phichit said. “I can think of about three reasons you’d be calling and asking that. I will freely admit to posting a tasteful nude of Viktor to your Instagram if that’s what this is about. Yes, I did that, and don’t you dare take it down. It’s the most engagement you’ve gotten since you posted the wedding photos.”
Yuuri leaned against the wall and covered his face with the hand not holding the phone. Ugh. Of course Phichit did that. “Did you send or assist in sending my old cardboard cutout of Viktor to Saint Petersburg to be displayed in our apartment? And getting a mirror image friend for it?”
Phichit’s laughter sounded genuinely shocked to Yuuri. “Okay, I will admit that I suggested sending it to you when Ciao Ciao asked what he should do with the cutout, but it wasn’t meant to be a prank or anything. Just figured it was yours and you should be the one to decide what to do with it, whether that’s throwing it away or getting Viktor to sign it and auction it off for charity or whatever you decide. I have no idea where the second one came from, I swear.”
“I trust you.” If Phichit had been responsible or in on the prank, he’d admit it now that it had happened. “What’s the third reason?”
“Huh?”
“You said you could think of three reasons why I might be calling and asking if you did it. Social media, the cutout… what’s the third?”
“You know I’m not going to spoil the surprise, Yuuri, how dare you. Now get back in there and figure out where that second cutout came from, because I am dying to know too!” Phichit hung up, leaving Yuuri staring at his phone and shaking his head. He loved his best friend, he really did, but sometimes he had to question why.
Yuuri went in and walked up to the cardboard cutout he remembered, examining it carefully. He didn’t remember there being any… stains… he was always careful to keep the merchandise in as pristine condition as possible, but you could never be too careful when you might have to explain to your husband about how you used to jerk off to a cardboard cutout of him. Sure, Viktor knew all about how bad his crush had been and thought it was cute and hilarious, but some things were just never meant to see the light of day. Fortunately the cutout appeared to be in excellent condition, so Yuuri turned his attention to the mirror image.
And yelped. “VIKTOR?!”
“Oh thank goodness!” Viktor dropped the pose and flopped on the couch beside the puppy. “I’m getting old, Yuuri, I used to be able to hold a pose like that for hours without feeling tired!”
“What the heck were you doing?”
“Posing like the cutout! Since this came from Celestino’s address I’m assuming it was part of your infamous collection, and I thought you might like a commemorative photo?” He winked as Yuuri buried his face in his hands. “I’m just glad I still had the outfit and that it still fits reasonably well!”
Yuuri picked his head up and looked critically at Viktor. It was true, now that Viktor was retired, that his figure had changed a bit, getting softer and less sculpted, but unlike Yuuri, it didn’t come with much excess weight. “If I say I think it looks better now than it did back then, would you believe me?”
“I would disagree, but I’d believe you believe it?” Viktor got up and pulled Yuuri into a hug. “I’m so sorry for mocking you about your weight when I first got to Japan, you know. I didn’t know then how much of a struggle it really was, not after being raised in Russia’s skating program.”
“I know.” Yuuri leaned his head on Viktor’s shoulder. “So if you’re not too old and tired, do you think you can hold the pose for long enough for me to get a picture to send Phichit? See how badly he mocks me for not realizing exactly where the second cutout came from?”
If Viktor had been tired, that shook it all off, and he jumped to his feet to pose in a mirror image to the cardboard cutout. Yuuri found the selfie stick Phichit had given him and posed with his arm around the cutout and his lips on the real Viktor’s cheek. Perfect.