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Forget the first time he stepped foot onto an ice rink in short sleeves, or the first time he was unprepared for Saint Petersburg snow. Yuuri is certain he’s never been colder than he is in this moment. His teeth are chattering, he’s wearing two layers of socks, and he swears he can feel the temperature dropping by the minute. He’s lying practically on top of Victor, both of them as close as can be to share body heat. They both have their entire bodies, from head to toe, under the covers, and their legs are slotted together. It’s decidedly less sexy than it sounds, especially with Makkachin sitting at their feet and snoring.
Of course, the heater in their apartment had to fail during the first cold snap of the year.
And, of course, they won’t be able to call the landlord’s office until tomorrow.
“You know,” Victor says after a few minutes of them both shifting around and trying to get comfortable, “If this was a romance novel, we’d have to have sex to keep warm.”
“How would you know?”
“Ahh. . .” Victor trails off.
Yuuri laughs then. “So that’s what you’re always reading on your Kindle!” It’s torture to extend an arm out of their blanket pile, but he shifts up enough to reach for the Kindle he knows Victor keeps in his night stand.
“Yuuri!” Victor protests weakly, trying to pull him back down on the bed. Yuuri playfully swats Victor’s hands away, but the other man isn’t so easily deterred, going for Yuuri’s leg next.
“Ha!” Yuuri says as he grabs it and falls back on top of Victor with a laugh. Yuuri turns it on, blinking as his eyes adjust to the bright screen in their dark bedroom. He pulls the blanket back up so it’s covering both of their heads again.
“The Billionaire Werewolf, The Servant’s Desire—oh, kinky—, My Night with the Earl, A Dark Expedition, The Treasure of the Locked Soul, A Damsel’s Distress, The Dragon’s Lover—again, kinky—The Soldier’s Wish,” Yuuri reads as he scrolls. “When do you have time to read these, anyway?”
Yuuri can only see the outline of Victor’s face because of the glow of the screen, but he can see enough to see his husband pout. “I have to entertain myself somehow when you don’t come to the rink with me.”
“Mmm. So which of these has the having sex to keep from freezing scenes?”
“A Dark Expedition,” Victor answers immediately. “Researchers in Antarctica.”
“Naturally.”
Victor grins. “Want to try it out?”
“Victor, I love you, but if you even think about trying to take any of my clothes off right now, you will be sleeping on the couch for a month,” Yuuri says firmly.
“Who says I’d have to take any of your clothes off?” Victor replies, dipping his hand beneath the waistband of Yuuri’s sweatpants.
“Going to prove your skill?” Yuuri ribs lightheartedly. He’s enjoying this turn of events—until the ice cube currently masquerading as Victor’s hand actually touches his flesh, and then he can’t push the hand away fast enough.
“Victor! Your hands are freezing,” Yuuri squeaks. Victor reaches for Yuuri’s arm and holds Yuuri’s hand up to his own face, which results in an immediate shudder. “So are yours.”
“Think we just discovered a plot hole in those romance novels of yours,” Yuuri teases.
Victor sighs. “It does sound less like an appealing idea now, doesn’t it? I suppose we should try to get some sleep.” Yuuri turns off the e-reader and pushes it to the side, along with his glasses. He buries his head in the crook of Victor’s neck. The awkward position will probably make his own neck sore in the morning, but Yuuri’s prepared to take whatever bit of heat he can get over future discomfort.
Yuuri tries not to think about how cold he is, or how he can feel goosebumps forming over his arm despite the fact he’s wearing several layers of long sleeves and Victor’s old team Russia jacket. He closes his eyes and tries to think of the ocean in Hasetsu when it’s summer and warm, but thinking of water lapping around his ankles makes him shiver. He imagines piping-hot food fresh from the stove, but that just makes him hungry. He tries to think about a cackling fire next, which is an enjoyable mental image but does nothing to actually warm him up.
After a while—what Yuuri guesses is at least half an hour—he hears Victor sigh.
“Yuuri.”
“Hmm?”
“Let’s just get a hotel tonight.”
“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”
Extracting themselves from the blankets and further into the icy depths of hell of painful, but it’s less so with the promise of warmth at the end. Yuuri grabs his glasses and turns on the overhead light as Victor frantically stuffs a bunch of clothes and their toiletries in a bag.
“Are you even looking at what you’re packing?” Yuuri asks.
“Oh, we’ll be fine,” Victor assures, which Yuuri takes to mean that they’ll end up with eight pairs of boxers and no clean shirts for a one-night stay. Yuuri glances down at the many layers he’s wearing. Oh well. It’s just one night. He’ll survive re-wearing his clothes tomorrow.
“Oh! But what about Makkachin?” The poodle might have a nice, thick coat of fur that made him better equipped to deal with a failed heater than humans, but Yuuri still doesn’t want to leave him alone.
Victor looks up from where he was quickly typing something on his phone. “Don’t worry about it. Yakov’s going to look after him for us.”
Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “Did you ask him?”
“Of course! I’d ask if we could stay with him too, but, ah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea after last time. . .”
Ooh, there was a story there that Yuuri hadn’t heard before. He makes a mental note to bring it up at a later time, when he’s less concerned about dying of hypothermia.
After dropping Makkachin off, Victor calls them a cab from Yakov’s place. Yuuri leans against the seat, content to be enveloped by the warmth of the cab even if only for a short ride. Victor started calling hotels as soon as they arrived at Yakov’s. Yuuri doesn’t ask where they managed to get a room, and he really doesn’t care. He just wants a comfortable bed and a heater that works.
“Yuuri. Yuuri.”
“Hmm?” Yuuri opens his eyes as Victor gently taps his shoulder. He blinks and shakes his head. He was more tired than he thought.
“We’re here,” Victor says. Yuuri looks out the cab window and at their hotel. He doesn’t recognize it, but it looks nice from the outside. It wasn’t like his standards were currently very high.
“Ooh, they have a twenty-four cafe in the lobby!” Victor exclaims, “We should get hot chocolate.”
A hot drink does sound good, so Yuuri grudgingly follows Victor over to the cafe. He lets Victor order for both of them, as he usually does. He’s picked up a good amount of basic Russian since moving to Saint Petersburg, and he’s even taken a couple of classes, but he’s too tired and too cold to think coherently currently.
Victor picks up their order when it's ready. “Peppermint cocoa,” Victor says, and holds out Yuuri’s favorite hot drink for him to take. It’s silly how Victor remembering things like Yuuri’s favorites still makes his heart flutter in his chest — they’ve been married for four years, of course Victor knows what kind of chocolate he likes — but it makes him feel warm inside anyway. It's a pleasant feeling, so Yuuri never tries to fight it.
The drink is still steaming, and Yuuri hesitantly takes a sip. It’s rich and creamy, and heavy on the peppermint. It’s perfect. Victor takes a few drinks from his own cup before wrapping his arm around Yuuri’s waist and directing them to the reception area. Yuuri leans against Victor as he checks them in.
“Don’t fall asleep on me again,” Victor says with a chuckle when Yuuri closes his eyes and rests his head on Victor’s shoulder in the elevator.
“’M not,” Yuuri says, though he doesn’t think he sounds very convincing. He’s actually less tired than he was in the cab — the sugar in the drink must be waking him up--but he still feels lethargic.
After the longest elevator ride in the world, they finally reach their hotel room. Yuuri doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a beautiful bed, and he says as much when he flops down on it.
Victor joins him in a most undignified manner, though he accidentally—or more likely intentionally, Yuuri’s not sure—ends up falling on top of Yuuri.
“It’s nice,” Victor agrees, “But I like our bed better.”
“Nope, this one,” Yuuri says, “We should offer to buy it.” Victor rolls off of Yuuri and on to his side.
“Maybe they’ll take skating lessons as payment. But where would we put it? It couldn’t replace our bed. Too many memories there,” Victor says, his tone flirtatious.
“Eh, we’ll give that one to Makkachin. New memories on this one.”
“Just what every poodle needs—a bed made for humans.”
“Like you wouldn’t give him one. You spoil him rotten.”
“Me?” Victor questions. “Who’s the one constantly slipping him dog treats?”
“That’d still be you,” Yuuri reminds him.
“Oh, right,” Victor says, and they both laugh. Yuuri feels surprisingly pleasantly awake after finishing his sugary drink. He throws the cup in the trash and sits up on the bed. It’s warm in the room and he’s relieved to finally feel comfortable enough to shed some of the bulky layers he's wearing. He flings his jacket and extra pair of socks somewhere — of the two of them, he’s normally the one who keeps their apartment neater, but right now he can’t be bothered to pick up after himself. They’ll get it in the morning.
“I know!” Victor says, and Yuuri can tell from the enthusiasm in his tone that’s he’s quite awake right now too, “We should have a slumber party!”
Yuuri just stares at him.
“Victor, we’re married,” He says, like this fact might have somehow slipped his husband’s mind, “We live together? We sleep in the same bed? I think that makes every day a slumber party.”
Victor shakes his head. “It’s not the same! Please, Yuuri? It’ll be fun! I always saw them on American shows growing up. I never had one.”
“Wait, you never had any kind of party like that?”
Victor shrugs. “I was always too busy with skating too have any friends that close. Plus, my parents wouldn’t have approved of such frivolous activities.”
Victor turns his puppy dog eyes on Yuuri, his hope and excitement clearly showing on his face. Sometimes, Yuuri finds it hard to believe that Victor is actually an adult, thirty-two year old man, five-time figure skating world champion, and Olympic medalist and not, as he would often appear, an overgrown puppy swapped into a human body during a science experiment gone horribly wrong. He even does things like pays taxes (poorly), and cooks (also poorly), and loves Yuuri (brilliantly).
“What first?” Yuuri asks, rolling his eyes and trying to keep the affectionate smile off his face when Victor grins.
“Let’s make a list.” Victor pulls out his phone and starts searching. “I think we can skip painting each other’s nails, since we don’t have any nail polish. And no cooking, since we’re in a hotel. Ooh. . .”
“What?” Yuuri asks, trying to look over Victor’s shoulder, but the taller man quickly locks his phone.
“Nothing!” Victor says in a falsely innocent voice. Yuuri’s so bewildered he doesn’t notice Victor’s hand sneaking behind him to grab one of the pillows by the headboard, but he does notice it just in time to realize what Victor’s doing a split second before the pillow lands with a loud thump against his face and knocks his glasses askew.
“Victor!” Yuuri chastises, but it’s no use.
“Pillow fight,” Victor says, as if Yuuri needed any clarification. Yuuri grumbles something under his breath in Japanese before fixing his glasses and selecting a pillow of his own, and he does not hold back when he tries to land a hit to Victor’s side. Unfortunately, Victor blocks the blow with his own pillow, and goes on the offensive again.
This. Means. War.
Yuuri starts reigning down-feather blows repeatedly on Victor’s head, and Victor squeals and puts his hands up in a blocking position—dropping his one pillow in the process. Yuuri grins as he grabs that pillow too, but as soon as Victor realizes what he’s done Victor tries to grab it back.
“You’re going to have to try harder than that, Vitya,” Yuuri says. Victor yanks the pillow hard—so hard the motion sets him flying back off the bed—and he lands on the floor with a laugh. Yuuri’s full-on giggling by the time he slides to the floor to join.
“Ready to surrender?” Yuuri asks as he tries to catch his breath from laughing so hard.
“Never,” Victor promises, and manages to get an elbow in just the right spot in Yuuri’s side to make him drop his own pillow. Yuuri lets out a yelp as Victor tackles him to the ground, his own pillow tossed out of arm’s reach. Victor boxes him in with his arms and Yuuri huffs.
“Unfair.”
“I didn’t realize pillow fights have rules.”
“Elbows are always against the rules,” Yuuri says seriously, but he rubs Victor’s forearm with his hand anyway.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Victor promises, his breath hot against Yuuri’s ear. He kisses Yuuri then, and Yuuri parts his lips automatically to let Victor’s tongue sweep inside. The mood shifts and suddenly he can't get enough. Instinctively, one of his hands goes to the back of Victor’s neck and he presses it downward so they’re closer and closer.
“Yuuri,” Victor says reverently when they break the kiss, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s own.
“I didn’t realize when you said you saw slumber parties on American programs, you meant porn,” Yuuri says playfully. Victor quietly laughs then. Victor is quick to laugh, and Yuuri’s become an expert in recognizing what each of those laughs mean. That quiet, clear, laugh is his favorite. It’s not one he ever shares with the world, only with Yuuri, and it reminds Yuuri of church bells and the first declarations of love Victor had ever whispered to him in the dark.
“It honestly wasn’t what I had in mind,” Victor says, “But why not take advantage of the situation while we’re down here?”
Yuuri pretends to contemplate this for a moment. “No reason I can think of.”
Victor laughs that beautiful, clear laugh again.
Yuuri walks back into their room, his hair still wet from his shower, to find Victor sitting on the bed and searching on his phone again.
“Still looking at ideas?” Yuuri asks as he crawls back into bed and sits beside Victor, who wordlessly draws an arm around his shoulder. Yuuri sighs happily and rests his head on Victor’s shoulder once again. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of doing this, even fifty years from now.
“I don’t think most of these would work,” Victor says, and holds up the phone so Yuuri can see. Yuuri stifles a yawn as he scrolls through the web page filled with slumber party suggestions. “I don’t know, I think my hair is long enough for you to braid.”
Victor runs a hand through Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri turns and nuzzles into it. Victor scratches the back of his head, just how Yuuri likes. Yuuri lets out another content sigh.
“Probably,” Victor says, “But I don’t know how.”
“Oh!” Victor says after a few more minutes of scrolling, “A blanket fort!”
Yuuri whines quietly when Victor moves away, but it’s hard to stay grumpy as he watches Victor more around the hotel room with enthusiasm, moving chairs and snatching the blankets from the bed. His husband is ridiculous, and Yuuri loves him a little more each day for it. Only Victor could make their heater breaking into such an adventure.
The final product is actually a bit impressive, Yuuri has to admit. The weapons from their earlier pillow fight make their way inside, as does the rest of the bedding. The back of the desk chair and the arm of the loveseat serve as anchors for the sheets that are composing the actual structure.
“Cozy!” Victor exclaims from inside his makeshift tent. His voice is muffled by the sheets and Yuuri suddenly feels ridiculously fond of the man he’s chosen to spend his life with. He’s struck with one of those sudden urges of affection that make him feel as light as a feather and completely ungrounded in the best way.
Victor’s head pops out of the fort. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
Yuuri grabs the one remaining pillow left on the bed and crawls inside. It is rather cozy. And most importantly, warm. For once, they’re managed to find a good use for the overabundance of pillows that seem to come standard in every hotel. Victor tosses a blanket over him, then kisses him on the cheek.
“I’ll be right back,” Victor says, “I’m going to go turn off the light.”
The hotel room goes dark and Victor joins him back in the fort. Yuuri shifts closer again, this time it’s not for warmth, but just because he wants to be held. Victor, as he always does, happily obliges.
Yuuri falls into a deep sleep almost immediately.
When Yuuri wakes up in the morning, there’s a crick in his neck and his back is sore as he stretches it out. He can feel the beginning of a headache coming on, and he knows he won't be able to make it through the day without a nap.
He still thinks it’s the best time he’s ever had as a result of something going wrong.
Yuuri glances at his still-sleeping husband, and he flashes back to the Grand Prix Final, and subsequent banquet, that changed everything.
Well, it’s the second best time.