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“You’re not getting off the ice until you land a quad flip, Yuuri!” Viktor yelled, tapping his blade impatiently.
They were back in Russia from the whirlwind that was Four Continents (European Championship for Viktor) and Worlds. After taking a couple of days to settle into Viktor’s apartment in St. Petersburg, Viktor had scheduled Yuuri’s first official training session for the next season.
And Viktor had plans.
Those plans apparently involved turning Yuuri’s legs to jelly. The rink in St. Petersburg was busy. It was nothing compared to the rink Yuuri and Phichit had used in Detroit, of course. But after a year of having Ice Castle Hasetsu all to themselves, trying to maneuver around three other skaters and a smattering of knee-high children was something akin to culture shock. Yuuri did a lead up to the jump, the other skaters giving them a wide berth.
Yuuri took off, intending for four rotations. But midway through, Yuuri wondered if another skater had gotten too close. Were they about to crash? They didn’t like the uncertainty, the rink still too new for them to be truly comfortable. They did three turns before putting their dominant leg back on the ice.
“That was a nice triple, Yuuri, but that’s not what I asked for!” Viktor yelled. “Try again!”
Yuuri groaned, getting ready for another jump. Yurio interrupted them by choosing to skate circles around them. “Take a few days off and you can’t do a quad flip anymore, Katsudon?” he mocked.
Yuuri followed Yurio with their eyes, quirking an eyebrow. “How many quads do you know, again?”
That shut Yurio up, and they skated off in a huff. Viktor beamed at Yuuri, glowing with pride at their fiancé’s newfound confidence. “I want you to get all five quads under your belt this season!”
There it was, Viktor’s master plan.
“But you need to up your success on the flip before I teach you the Lutz!”
Yuuri groaned, giving the quad flip another shot. They crashed on the landing, rolling across the ice to stop at Viktor’s feet. Viktor looked down at them, tapping a finger on his lips. “Not quite. Try again!”
True to his word, Viktor didn’t let Yuuri off the ice until they landed the quad flip, a task that took many, many more falls. Yuuri stepped onto solid ground, rubbing the bruise forming on their hip with a groan.
“Are you hurt, my love?” Viktor asked, smoothing his hands over Yuuri’s shoulders.
Yuuri groaned happily, immediately dipping forward as Viktor kneaded at the knots in their back. “Just a little bruised,” they assured.
“That’s to be expected after some time off, especially with the new scenery and all,” Viktor assured his fiancé.
“Not to mention Yurio pushing me over.” It was mostly in jest, Yurio making sure to check Yuuri’s hips with his own whenever he skated past. It did cause a few untimely stumbles.
“I’ll be sure to trip him during my turn on the ice,” Viktor cooed.
Yuuri’s laughter faded into a groan as Viktor kneaded down their spine. “I haven’t felt this sore since last season’s Grand Prix Final,” they admitted.
“Do you need to see my masseur?”
“You have a masseur?” Yuuri asked, somehow unsurprised.
“Of course! We spend thousands of dollars on our equipment, it should only make sense to spend that much on our bodies as well,” Viktor said evenly.
It would make sense, except for the part where Yuuri didn’t have nearly as much money as Viktor. “Some of us had to budget to buy our skates, so pardon me,” Yuuri teased.
“That’s about to change now that you’re my fiancé,” Viktor assured. “You’re going to love my masseur, he’s magnificent. Tell me you have a chiropractor at least.”
Yuuri looked over their shoulder. “No.”
Viktor gasped in horror.
Around midday, Yuuri found themselves hiding in a bathroom stall. At least they weren’t having a panic attack, they reasoned. That’s not to say they weren’t anxious at all. They had flubbed most of their jumps during morning practice, and no matter how much Viktor assured them that it was expected, that it was their first time in a new rink (in a new city, in a new country) after a few days spent unpacking boxes in Viktor’s apartment. They were mentally and physically tired, and they were still trying to establish a routine, and so Yuuri shouldn’t beat themselves up over a few missed jumps. They had months to perfect them.
It didn’t make the anxiety go away.
It didn’t help that Viktor’s rinkmates (and Yuuri’s too now, they supposed) were constantly hovering over their shoulder. Everyone wanted to see Yuuri in action, even though Mila, Georgi, and Yurio had been present for their performances. It was different now, because they got to see the Yuuri when they weren’t on stage.
They were in the background eyeing them when Viktor draped himself over their shoulders, when he pressed a congratulatory kiss to their cheek, and when Viktor spent the entirety of their lunch break showing off his ring that Yuuri got for him, Katsuki Yuuri his beloved fiancé, they proposed in Barcelona in front of a church and a choir; and Yuuri was going to bring home gold this season so they could get married, Georgi what do you think of a spring wedding?
They were nice, and except for Yurio, they were also strangers. Yuuri needed a break. So, they did what any person in their mid-twenties would do when faced with an unfamiliar situation. They called their mom.
“Hi, Mama!” Yuuri said cheerfully has Hiroko’s face appeared on the screen.
“Hello, Yuuri!” she said cheerfully. “How is Russia?”
“It’s very pretty, the beach here is just like the one in Hasetsu.”
“Is it cold there?” Hiroko asked, worrying in the way mothers do.
Yuuri chuckled. “A little, but it’s spring here so it’s not too bad,” they assured her. “It should start warming up soon.”
Hiroko hummed happily, satisfied that her child wasn’t about to freeze to a pole in the middle of Russia. “Are you settling in well?”
Yuuri nodded. “We just finished unpacking most of our things in Vicchan’s place last night. You should see his apartment, Mama, it’s so nice.” They paused, tracing a circle on the floor with their foot. “It’s my first day at the rink here.”
Raising Yuuri had taught Hiroko to sense when their anxiety peaked, and she heard it then. “Is everyone nice to you?”
“They’re great, they’re all very kind,” Yuuri assured her. “I’m just... being me.” They shrugged.
Hiroko looked sympathetic, clearly wishing she could give Yuuri a hug. “That’s alright, Yuuri. You know we’re very proud of you and everything you’ve done.”
Yuuri’s heart swelled. They knew their parents supported them and loved them unconditionally. They had been there during Yuuri’s worst slump and supported them until they picked themselves back up. It still helped to hear, to be reminded of those supporting them from afar.
“Thank you, Mama,” they sniffled.
“Have you talked Vicchan?”
“Not really,” Yuuri admitted. “I don’t want to annoy him.”
Hiroko tutted at her child from a world away. “Yuuri,” she scolded. “Talk to your fiancé, it’s his job to support you when we’re not there. He’s your family now.”
Yuuri blushed. “I will, Mama,” they conceded.
Yuuri’s conversation was interrupted by a swift kick to the stall door. “Oi, Katsudon, are you crying in there?”
Yuuri jumped in their skin. “Uh, I have to go, Mama, love you bye.”
They ended the call quickly and got up to open the door to see Yurio on the other side, leg raised to kick the door again. Yurio played it off by placing his foot on the stall divider next to Yuuri’s head. “Do you kick everyone’s stall doors or am I just special?”
Yurio glared at them, narrowing his eyes when they saw the tears glistening in Yuuri’s eyes. “You were crying in there,” he yelled accusingly.
Yuuri rubbed their eyes. “I wasn’t crying, I’m just... misty.”
“Did someone make you cry, Katsudon?”
“Yeah, my mom,” Yuuri snorted.
That seemed to settle Yurio’s anger a little. “Why are you crying in the bathroom?” he snapped.
“Am I not allowed to call my mom?”
“Why were you calling your mom, did someone make you cry?”
Yuuri put their hands in their pockets, rocking back on their heels to make sure Yurio knew just how little his yelling was affecting them. “Why are you here, Yurio?”
“The geezer is about to have an aneurysm in the break room because he can’t find you,” Yurio explained, rolling his eyes.
Yuuri furrowed their brow, pulling out their phone to check their messages. “Why didn’t Viktor text me?”
Yurio huffed. “I don’t fucking know, probably because he has the mental capacity of a protein shake. He’s worried about being too clingy or some shit, I don’t know.”
Yuuri snorted. “Vitya, too clingy? I think he crossed that bridge when he insisted on holding my hand through lunch.”
“You should know better than to leave him alone, you’re the only one that can control him.” Yurio rolled his eyes again. “So, what the hell were you doing here in the first place.”
Yuuri just shrugged. “I got a little anxious and needed a break.”
“What made you anxious?” Yurio pressed.
“Chronic anxiety.”
“Oh.” Yurio finally dropped his foot to the floor. Yuuri was impressed by Yurio’s ability to hold a standing split. “If you’re done you should go find Vitya before his hair thins even more.” Yurio started to walk out of the bathroom, inviting Yuuri to follow. “Nobody ever goes to break room on the other side because the power outlets there are busted. It’s a good place to take a nap.”
Yuuri smiled to themselves, ruffling Yurio’s hair. “Thanks.”
Yurio squawked, “Don’t touch me!”
“Yuuri, what did you think? Was everyone nice to you? Did you have fun?” Viktor asked, hanging off Yuuri’s arm as they walked out of the ice rink, both of their bags on Viktor’s shoulder.
“I can’t feel my legs,” Yuuri groaned, hobbling on bruised feet.
“Oh, Yuuri, you’ll be better tomorrow!” Viktor assured. “You’re already doing so much better at that flip!”
“Says the person who waxeled no less than three times,” Yurio added from behind.
“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Viktor said flatly, looking over his shoulder.
“Oh, don’t worry, Vitya,” Mila chimed in. “I have a Viktor Nikiforov Waxel Compilation ready to upload onto Instagram as soon as I get better wifi.”
Viktor clutched his chest. “Mila, how could you do this to me, I’ve raised you since you were an infant.”
“Yuuri, how does it feel knowing your fiancé can’t do a triple Axel?” Georgi asked.
All eyes turned to the newest (honorary) member of Team Russia. “Pretty disappointing,” Yuuri answered. “I spent all that time learning my fiancé’s signature jump.”
Everyone but Viktor burst into raucous laughter. “Yuuri!” he whined.
“Might have to call off the wedding if my fiancé doesn’t get his shit together.”
The five skaters stepped into the cold St. Petersburg night. Viktor rushed forward, posing dramatically on the steps to the ice rink, holding a hand out towards his fiancé.
“That settles it!” he exclaimed. “Yuuri, this season I’m going to land a quad Axel!”
“That’s rich coming from the Waxel King,” Yurio huffed.
Mila joined in. “At your age?”
Yuuri just eyed Viktor’s outstretched hand with amusement. “Not if I beat you to it.” They put their hand in Viktor’s, sealing their deal.
Viktor’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, Yuuri! You always know how to surprise me!” He yanked on Yuuri’s hand, pulling them close and dipping them down.
“Fuck both of you, I’m going to land it first,” Yurio growled, pushing his way between the two lovers.
Yuuri and Viktor looked between Yurio and each other before finally bursting into laughter. “What’s so funny, old timers?!” Yurio demanded.
“Nothing, Yura,” Viktor teased. “It’s settled then. First person to land quad Axel wins?”
“Wins what, exactly?” Yuuri asked.
“Eternal fame and glory, obviously,” Yurio stated.
“How about they get to pick what the other person wears at our wedding?” Viktor suggested, eyes sparkling. Yuuri raised an eyebrow.
“Ooh, Yuuri, I know that look. Our Vitya has plans,” Mila sang.
Yuuri imagined Viktor in white lace and a matching tiara, waiting at the end of the aisle. “Deal.”
“Hey, what about me, assholes?” Yurio snapped.
“You can choose for both of us,” Viktor offered.
Yuuri was struck with a vision of them and Viktor in matching leopard print tuxes. “Too bad the wedding is never going to happen because I’m taking gold this year.”
“Of course, Yura,” Viktor said placatingly.
Yurio shook on it anyways. Just as everyone started down the steps, Viktor called out again. “Wait, everyone!”
They all turned around to glare at Viktor. “We want to go home sometime this year, Vitya,” Georgi yelled.
“We need to take a commemorative photo for my Yuuri’s first day at our rink!”
At the words “commemorative photo” Yuuri glared suspiciously at Viktor. “Is anyone else getting the weirdest sense of déjà vu?”
Yuuri’s question went ignored as the five skaters gathered on the steps to take a selfie. “The frame isn’t big enough for all of us.”
“Yurio, you’re too short.”
“The lighting is better over here.”
“We need to get the sign in frame!”
“Who has long arms?”
“Hurry the fuck up, my fingers are falling off!”
Standing at the fringe of the nearest streetlamp with Georgi’s arm stretched out as far as possible, phone tilted up to get the sign in frame, the group was finally ready to take a picture.
“Now everyone smile!” Mila called. “Three, two, one, hashtag waxel!” Three voices echoed hers.
The resulting photo had the most aesthetically pleasing lighting, four smiling figure skaters, and one very unamused Viktor.