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“Wow.” Yuuri breathes out quietly, eyes fixated on the television in front of him. He pulls fingers through Makkachin’s hair absently, raising a brow at the newscaster and the throngs of people around her. Many of them are inebriated, sporting bottles of drinks in Cyrillic or solo cups and cheering as the reporter continues her broadcast with a smile. Yuuri can only pick out a few words of Russian here and there. One man dumps a bottle of what Yuuri is fairly sure is vodka over his head, and Yuuri winces, thinking of the freezing temperature outside and wondering just how drunk the man needed to be to even consider dousing himself.
“Hmm?” Viktor dips over the couch to pass Yuuri a mug, and Yuuri diverts his attention from the screen to glance up at Viktor, who offers him a warm smile that makes affection bubble in Yuuri’s stomach, pressing against his diaphragm as his cheeks tinge pink and he smiles back, leaning to press his lips against his fiancée’s cheek. It’s a soft gesture that makes the tips of Viktor’s ears turn red, and Yuuri chuckles lightly as Viktor presses the mug into Yuuri’s hands.
“Russian’s are crazy on New Year’s.” Yuuri says, a teasing tone in his voice, and Viktor grins in response, coming around to sit on the couch.
“Only some of us.” He says in response, laughter in his voice. Yuuri smiles, bringing his mug up to his mouth before pausing to add,
“Like you?” His tone is still teasing, but an air of curiosity is mingled in it, and Viktor raises an eyebrow as Yuuri presses the mug to his lips, eyes shining.
“You mean have I ever dumped a bottle of Stolichnaya Elit over my head in Red Square while yelling about my neighbor’s cat?” His tone is amused, and Yuuri snorts, before he sips the liquid and his eyes widen. His gaze flicks to the mug as he pulls it away.
“This is amazing!” Surprise colors his voice, and Viktor’s question is momentarily forgotten as he smiles giddily in return.
“So, you like it, solnyshko?” Yuuri nods rapidly in response, before asking,
“What is it?”
“It’s called ‘Sbiten’. Its hot water with honey, spices, and Jam.” Viktor’s eyes go distant for a moment, and his eyes soften a bit as he turns his gaze towards his own mug. His tone turns bittersweet. “It’s my family’s recipe; Mama made the best Sbiten in all of Russia. She taught me how to make it when I was very little. I haven’t tried making it in quite a while.” Yuuri’s heart clenches in his chest at Viktor’s quiet melancholy, and he moves closer, twining their fingers together and giving his hand a squeeze and giving Viktor a soft smile.
“Well, it’s very good, especially for not having made it in a while.” He says warmly, setting his head on Viktor’s shoulder. “Definitely better than dumping Vodka over your head in Red Square.” He adds on lightly after a moment, hoping to brighten the mood, and smiling wider when an unexpected laugh escapes Viktor, jostling Yuuri a bit as he lists his head. Viktor’s giving him that look, the one that’s all soft eyes and warm affection, and Yuuri can’t help but tilt his head up and press a chaste kiss to his lips, eyes slipping shut for a few second before he pulls away. When he opens his eyes again, Viktor’s looking at him like he’s hung the stars; like he’s this magic, ethereal being Viktor can’t believe is sitting in front of him. Yuuri flushes red to the tips of his ears, and smiles. “Was he really yelling about his neighbor’s cat?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor huffs quiet laughter, but the look of worship doesn’t quite fade from his face.
“He was very passionate; apparently, there had been one too many piles of cat shit on his porch.” Yuuri breaks into full body laughter at that, shaking next to Viktor who soon joins him. It takes them a few moments to calm down, wiping tears from the corner of their eyes as Makkachin stares at them curiously.
“Have you?” Yuuri gets out eventually, still chuckling, and Viktor gives him a curious look. “Have you ever dumped a bottle of Vodka over your head in Red Square while yelling about your neighbor’s cat?” Yuuri clarifies mirthfully, and Viktor laughs before humming, bringing his hand to his chin. He snaps his fingers after a moment, having remembered.
“One year, Chris stayed here to celebrate with me, and we ended up getting so wasted that before we even made it out to hit the bars, we crashed my neighbor’s celebration dressed as Ded Moroz and Sengurochka.” Yuuri bursts into laugher then, and Viktor tries to contain his to finish the story. “I’m not even sure where we got the costumes, all I know is my neighbor at the time had to let us in because her kids saw our costumes, and we ended up giving half empty bottles of Russian Straight to a six and an eight year-old.” Yuuri is doubled over laughing, and Viktor grins as he sips his cup of Sbiten and turns the television off as the president’s speech comes on, neither particularly interested in hearing anything the man has to say, instead pulling up a count down on his phone, resting it on his knee. Yuuri’s laughter quiets a moment later, and he sighs.
“God, the trouble you get yourself into.” Yuuri shakes his head, but remains smiling. “Poor Yakov, I can just imagine the situations he’s had to rescue you from. It’s amazing he hasn’t burst a blood vessel.” Viktor’s grin just widens.
“I’ve been in a lot of trouble, but the greatest one will always be you!” Yuuri rolls his eyes at the cheesy comment, and blocks Viktor’s attempt for a kiss with his mug of Sbiten, laughing lightly as he pouts.
“You don’t get to kiss me after calling me trouble!” He says, laughing again, and Viktor’s pout just gets more pronounced. Yuuri just hums mischievously in response, before saying airily, “Oh well, I guess that means no New Year’s kiss for you.” Viktor, being the one who wanted to try it after Yuuri had explained the western tradition he’d learned about in Detroit, broke easily, waving his free hand about.
“Nooo, Yuuuuriii! I’m sorry! You aren’t trouble at all!” Yuuri’s smile widens and he brings his hand to his chin with a hum, turning to look at Makkachin.
“What do you think, should I forgive him?” He ignores Viktor’s yelp of “hey!”, and Makkachin barks at being addressed. Yuuri laughs, turning to Viktor’s pouting face with mirth still dancing in his eyes.
“Alright, you’re forgiven.” Viktor beams, before glancing down at his phone screen while Yuuri takes another drink from his mug.
“Ah, Yuuri, it’s almost time!” Yuuri scoots closer, glancing at Viktor’s phone, where the count down has just reached a minute and a half. Yuuri rejoins their hands, squeezing Viktor’s and watching the light dance on their rings, and the mood shifts to something softer.
“Viktor.” Yuuri starts, tone quiet and determined, and Viktor looks up at him. Yuuri meets his gaze, pink faced. “Thank you for helping me discover all the love surrounding me this year. Thank you for teaching me the true meaning of ‘Ai’.” Viktor’s face melts into a soft smile, and he brings their joined hands up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the metal of Yuuri’s ring.
“Yuuri,” He starts, voice low and warm, his own face a bit rosy in color as he speaks, “Thank you for giving me my inspiration. Thank you for giving me my life and my love.” They both smile at each other, happiness bubbling in the space between them. Viktor glances down at his phone, and starts the countdown.
“10…” Yuuri joins him softly, and the two of them speak in sync. “9…8…7…” Their gaze shifts from the phone to each other, and Viktor sets his mug on the floor, freeing his other hand to move to Yuuri’s face, pressing against his cheek softly. “5…4…” Yuuri’s mug is settled between his thighs, other hand reaching to slip his fingers in the hair at the base of Viktor’s neck, smiling gently at his lover as the distance between them closes. “3…” Yuuri tips his head to rest their foreheads together. “2…” Their breath mingling together, Viktor tilts his head, almost brushing Yuuri’s lips. “1…” Viktor breathes the number out against Yuuri’s lips, pressing them together in a kiss that tastes like cinnamon and jam, Yuuri releasing his hand to rest it on Viktor’s chest, heartbeat thrumming beneath his fingers as he leans in. Viktor’s other hand rises to cup Yuuri’s face delicately as he sighs into the kiss, pressing deeper. The tips of Viktor’s fingers brush along Yuuri’s jaw, causing a shiver to run down his spine as his hands rest gently, one against the side of Yuuri’s neck, feeling the pulse beat there, and the other with fingers still splayed across his jaw. They part on need for breath, foreheads pressed together once more, and Yuuri brings the hand at Viktor’s chest up to thumb delicately at his bottom lip, before framing his face. Viktor smiles at him, adoration spelled out in the glimmer in his eyes, and Yuuri is breathless for an entirely different reason, staring at the love of his life sitting before him.
“Happy New Year, Yuuri.” He breathes out between them, and Yuuri gives him a tender smile in return.
“Happy New Year, Viktor.”