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A merry compilation of Christmas carols was playing in Yakov's living room, and everyone seemed to be joyful and happy.
Victor was snuggling with Katsudon and Makkachin, Mila and Georgi were playing chess, and Lilia and Yakov were in the kitchen, calmly chatting.
They were all leaving Yuri be, as he liked.
He didn't want nor need to be involved in small talk, and right now he was just enjoying the presence of his grandpa, who was carefully scratching Potya's head; the cat was stretched over Yuri's lap, and she was doing that cute little breading movement with her paws, but without damaging Yakov's expensive couch.
Yuri's belly was pleasantly full, after the Christmas dinner and a traditional Italian Christmas dessert that Sara had sent to Mila for everyone's enjoyment: that so-called pandoro probably had more calories than a week worth of their meal plans, but hey, Christmas only comes once a year. There still was a trace of the impalpable sugar it had been coated with on Nikolai's moustache, and Yuri thought that it was somehow cute. Like the living proof that his grandad was real, and there with him, as weird as it might sound.
There was no reason why Yuri should be sad, wasn't it?
*****
The fire was lit in the huge fireplace, the lights on the Christmas tree were shining, Yuri had received all the presents he wanted and not a single stupid scarf.
Everything was perfect, a perfect Christmas scenario if such a thing could exist, and yet Yuri was filled with an uncanny melancholy.
Only, it wasn't something ethereal and mysterious: he perfectly knew why he didn't feel complete.
He was missing someone; his true love, actually.
And yes, he knew that it was kind of dramatic to refer to a loud Canadian he had met just a handful of times as "his true love" but he couldn't help it. At least with himself.
He was pretty sure no one had caught wind of his feelings, but for once, just for once, he wished he had told someone.
Victor, maybe.
At least he would have the decency not to be so close to Yuuri that they might as well be seamed at the side.
Maybe.
With that man, you never know.
Yuri would risk being included in said tight embrace, and that was a thing that went straight to his top ten of stuff that better never happen.
*****
Potya decided that she was satisfied with the amount of scratches she had received, and left Yuri's lap to go check on the decorations. She seemed to suspect one ball in particular to be a spy or something, judging by her stare of disdain, but she didn't attempt to attack it. Yet.
Nikolai, his hands now free, gently caressed Yuri's knee, and Yuri leaned his head on the old man's shoulder. A sigh of half contentment, half melancholy escaped Yuri's lips.
*****
Then, the bell rang.
"Who the fuck are we expecting now?" Yuri blurted out.
"Young man!" Lilia called from the kitchen, "Language!"
"Why don't you open the door and find out for yourself?" Yakov bit back at Yuri.
Yuri looked around.
Victor apparently hadn't even noticed the bell, and he was staring so deep into Makkachin's eyes that a bomb wouldn't catch his attention.
Mila was smiling triumphantly, and Georgi was sweating on the chessboard.
And there was no way Yuri would let his grandpa make an effort.
"Fine!" He said, to everyone and no one, and he got up to get the door.
Slowly .
Hoping that whoever it was would be gone by the time he arrived.
*****
A shadow from the stained glass windows at each side of the door was enough to tell him that no, he wasn't that lucky.
The person who had rung the bell was still there, and Yuri opened the door to tell him a well intended "bah humbug".
When he opened the door, though, he stilled.
Jean Jacques Leroy clicked something on the screen of his smartphone, and a choir singing Silent Night started playing.
Victor called from inside: "Who's at the door, Yurio?"
JJ held up a sign saying "Tell them it's carol singers".
With a strange sense of déjà vu, Yuri looked back towards the living room and yelled: "That's not my name! And who's at the door is none of your business!"
He looked back at JJ, who was now frowning, his arms wide in the universal gesture of what the fuck .
"Do you want him to come here running and cheering?" Yuri whispered.
JJ seemed to think about it, then a smile lit up his face. Yuri's grip on the handle tightened: he was this close from losing it.
JJ went back to his signs and showed a second one: "With any luck, by next year I'll be hanging out with one of these". Yuri frowned, then JJ showed him a sign filled with photos of gold medals. Yuri scoffed and JJ smiled.
"But for now let me say"
"Without hope or agenda"
"Just because it's Christmas"
Yuri held up a hand and said: "Wait, this fucking thing comes from a movie!"
"Yeah, it does," JJ whispered back, "Just let me finish and I'll explain, okay?" Yuri shrugged and JJ pointed at the last sign.
Yuri nodded. Yes, that was where we had stopped: because it's Christmas.
The next sign said: "And at Christmas you tell the truth" Yuri's heart made a quad loop in his chest, up to his throat.
He vaguely remembered the scene, one of the less awful from one of those sappy movies Georgi loved to torture himself with, and he knew that what was coming was some sort of a confession, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself.
"You're not perfect, kitten," the next sign said. Yuri bit his lip with disappointment.
"But my wasted heart loves you all the same," Yuri gasped and covered his mouth with his hand.
"And I'll love you until you’ll look like this," JJ changed to a sign with Tutankhamen's mummy on it and Yuri yelped an almost hysterical laugh.
"Merry Christmas," the last sign said, then JJ stopped the music.
"You fucking idiot," Yuri said; his voice didn't sound as sure and strong as he wanted it to be, but Yuri tried to blame it on the chilly air.
"You can't say I haven't tried," JJ replied. His smile was still there, gently arching his lips upwards, but it wasn't reaching his eyes anymore.
It wasn't a joke.
And, to think about it, taking a plane from Montreal to Saint Petersburg just to mock someone was a bit too much for a joke, wasn't it? It would be too stupid, even for a sexy, arrogant prick like JJ Leroy.
Yuri realised that he had something like three seconds to fix it or lose him forever.
JJ picked up his signs, and when he straightened his back Yuri launched himself down the three steps leading from the door to the gravel path.
JJ's reflexes were ready, and Yuri found himself almost engulfed in his huge puffer coat.
It was smooth and soft, as cold as the air and slightly damp on its surface because of the snow that had started falling.
JJ held him back tight, with a strong hold that almost seemed desperate, as if he expected this to be their last hug; he was trembling against Yuri 's sickening fast heartbeat, so much that the cause just couldn't be just the cold.
*****
He was there, Yuri thought, there in Saint Petersburg when he ought to be in Montreal, sipping eggnog or whatever shit they drank in Canada, while snuggling with Isabella.
Or not, the Catholic Christmas had already passed and Yuri had no idea if they used to celebrate the orthodox one someway.
But still, it was the holidays, and JJ had flown all the way there to meet him.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Yuri asked.
"Well, I…" JJ broke their embrace and brushed his hair with one hand; his dark locks stood awkwardly, half wet, almost frozen, where his fingers had pushed them.
"YURATCHKA!" Yakov yelled from inside, "You're letting all the cold in! Whoever it is, either let them in or send them away!"
Yuri evaluated his opinions and found out he had no choice: he couldn't send JJ away in the cold and the snow and ask him to come back another day. By the looks of it, JJ had undone his whole life just to go and make a sappy scene for him.
"Bring your ass in, or Yakov's gonna skin me alive," he said, making way.
JJ stepped in and looked at the many pairs of shoes near the door: "I thought this was a Japanese thing," he commented, while bending down to get rid of his boots.
Yuri rummaged until he found a loose pair of slippers and threw them in front of JJ: "It's common hygiene. It's just you damn Americans who think it's not gross to lay on your bed with your shoes on."
"Actually, I'm Canadian, and we do take off our shoes in the doorway."
"Then, why are you fucking asking if it's a Japanese thing?"
"I thought you Russian guys threw glasses after drinking vodka. You could get cut."
"Why the fuck did I let you in?"
"Yurio!" Victor called, coming in from the living room, "Who was at the… oh ! You're the Canadian guy!"
"Victor, remember JJ?" Yuri tried to mend. Victor was a disaster with names, Yuri had a ten pages long list of strange ways he had misspelled Otabek's name. The time he had called him Otababe was still record-breaking.
"Oh, yes, of course! Welcome, JJ, and what brings you here?" Victor grabbed JJ's coat and hung it among the others.
"I guess… hope?" JJ said, tentatively.
"Hope?" Victor smiled.
"That's none of your fucking business, old man, cut the crap!"
"Yuratchka!" Nikolai called, joining them, "Language."
"Russian," Yuri replied, earning a slap on his neck. JJ was smirking, that asshole.
"Who's this handsome young man?" Nikolai asked, stepping forward with a hand held out.
"Jean Jacques Leroy, sir," JJ answered, "Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise, Jean Jacques. I'm Nikolai, Yuri's grandfather." They shook hands, then Victor asked: "Do you want to join us in the living room, JJ?"
"I…" JJ hesitated, "I think I'll need to share a few words with Yuri, first."
Yuri hid the shiver he had felt hearing his own name being said aloud by JJ 's voice, and oh God he was being ridiculous, wasn't he?
"Let's go to my room. Hurry," he grabbed JJ by the sleeve and pulled him along a corridor.
*****
"So," Yuri said when his bedroom door was finally closed behind them.
"So."
"What the fuck was that?"
"I suffer from a chronic lack of fantasy," JJ explained. Yuri scoffed.
"Yeah, okay, that part was clear. Why the fuck did you make that fucking scene?"
"I thought the cards were clear enough, kitten." Yuri didn't speak for a while.
"They… they were," he eventually whispered.
"I was watching the movie it comes from with Bella at Christmas," JJ said, his voice low and trembling, "And when it came to that scene, I pictured you coming at my door with those sappy cards. But then I realised two things."
"One is that I'd have myself slowly eviscerated with a teaspoon before I do a thing like that?" JJ laughed softly, a sound that was completely different from his usual laughter. Something quieter, somehow more intimate.
"Yes, that was one," he admitted.
"And the other?"
"The other is that, even if it ever happened, I would be trapped with Bella, if I waited until after our marriage." JJ seemed to wait for an answer of sorts, but Yuri had none. He knew that JJ was going to be married in June, and he dreaded each day that passed.
"I called off the engagement," JJ eventually said.
"You fucking what ?"
"You heard me," JJ sighed and leaned against Yuri's desk. He hesitated, seemingly searching for the right words, then he pushed himself forward a little bit and said: "I realised that, if I stayed with her, I would be cheating everyday. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you ."
"Come again," Yuri whimpered, sitting on the edge of his bed.
"I proposed to her because that was what my parents wanted. A nice girl from a good family, someone I could have children with, build a family. But…"
"But?"
" Agape . I want that, kitten. I don't want to be with the right person, I mean, right for who ? Why should it be right to be trapped forever with someone who's just… nice to me in front of other people, then tries to change me to fit her standards? I'm like this, I don't want to change, I already have to pretend in front of the press and… and I'm probably delirious, I'm sorry. Coming here was a mistake, Christ , I don't know what I was thinking, I…"
"Oh, stop it!" Yuri said, getting up. He stepped in front of JJ and pointed a finger at him: "If you tell someone what I'm about to say, you're dead."
"O… okay?"
"I'm glad you came."
"I won't tell anyone," JJ promised, then he cracked a tiny smile: "No one would believe me anyway." Yuri just couldn't help it. A huff of a laugh escaped from his throat, and before he knew he was laughing so hard he could feel tears stinging in his eyes, and JJ was holding him, and he was against his chest, and they were mere inches apart and…
"Yuratchka!"
" Fuck !" Yuri cursed, "Yes?"
"You two come over to the living room! Leroy, do you want a spiced drink?" Yakov asked, yelling, from the other side of Yuri's bedroom door.
"Yes, sir, thank you," JJ asked, "We'll be coming right away!"
" Why ?" Yuri asked him.
"Because if we don't, they'll barge in."
"Fuck."
"You still haven't given me an answer," JJ shyly whispered.
"No way on earth it's gonna happen," Yuri answered, and JJ's smile faltered.
"The medals, I mean,” Yuri clarified, “You'll have to pry the gold medals from my dead, cold hands."
"We'll see that, kitten," JJ answered. Yuri scoffed, then led the way towards the living room.
JJ followed close by, so close that when Mila yelled "STOP!" and Yuri abruptly stopped, he bumped against Yuri's back.
"What, hag?" Yuri asked.
"The mistletoe," she answered, "You have to kiss!"
"Well, I…" Yuri hesitated, embarrassed. He had never really kissed anyone else before, if not for a few weird occasions? He was afraid JJ would be turned down by his lack of skills? He thought JJ didn't want to kiss him? Not yet, at least? He…
He found himself into JJ's tight, warm embrace, and his lips were being brushed by something equally soft.
It had nothing in common with the awkward mess of lips and teeth and tongue he had experienced before; JJ's kiss was a soft, hot seal on Yuri's lips, a trembling, hopeful promise. It was the reverent touch of someone who still can't believe his luck, a wet caress Yuri knew he wouldn't be able to live without anymore.
*****
Yuri ignored the clapping and the cheering of his rinkmates, and when JJ finally broke the kiss he immediately looked up at Nikolai.
The old man was smiling, his eyes seemed to be a little wet but his expression was clear: he still loved Yuri unconditionally, and he would approve of JJ as long as he made his Yuratchka happy.
Yakov hushed JJ to the table, served him a slice of pandoro and a warm drink and scolded Yuri for something.
But Yuri wasn't listening: he had found again his spot on the couch beside Nikolai, who was equally dividing his caresses between his grandson and Potya; Victor and Yuuri were smiling at him, Makkachin was wiggling his tail at JJ and Georgi was challenging Mila to another chess game.
Yuri looked up and saw Lilia, leaning to the wall at one corner of the room, busy staring fondly at Yakov, who was currently trying his best not to scare JJ away.
Yuri's and Lilia's eyes met across the room, and the tiniest smile curved the ballerina's lips.
Yuri smiled back at her, then JJ slammed himself beside him and asked Nikolai if he was a hockey fan.
Yuri faked a protest, but while he sneakily snuggled against JJ's chest, with Nikolai's hands still warming up his knee while the old man answered JJ's question, he could just think that sometimes, very rarely, Christmas could really be perfect.