Chapter Text
Yuuri barely has time to push the key in the keyhole before Phichit throws the door open, almost smacking him in the face.
“You’re home!” he shouts, arms in the air. “You’re back! You’re finally here!”
The time difference from Spain isn’t terrible, but he was in Japan before that, and he’s sticky from the long flight he barely slept on. Still, he musters up a smile for Phichit, only protesting a little bit when he’s pulled into a bone crushing hug.
“Phichit,” he sighs in greeting, dragging his feet inside while Phichit bounces around him.
“I’m sorry,” Phichit laughs, taking his coat and closing the door behind him. “It’s just been so boring without you here.”
Guilt gnaws at his insides, but it’s pushed away by the much more urgent need for a shower.
“I’m just gonna…”
Phichit nods, grabbing his suitcase and the bag with his skates and costumes, leading the way into their shared bedroom.
“I’ll make you some tea,” he says, digging through Yuuri’s side of the closet and throwing a pair of ratty old sweats at him. “Go shower, you look dead on your feet!”
Only Phichit could make it sound like a compliment. Still, Yuuri gratefully shuffles into the bathroom, fiercely missing the onsen back home. At least a shower brings some life back into him, and when he makes his way into the kitchen, Phichit is humming along to some playlist, a steaming mug of tea waiting for Yuuri on the table.
“So!” Phichit starts before he’s even sat down, clasping his hands under his chin. “Tell me everything.”
Yuuri takes a careful sip, allowing the hot drink to soothe his tired soul. He feels like he’s been gone for years, the familiarity of their kitchen almost strange to him. Like he’s a new person in an old place.
“I’m not telling you everything,” he says, giving Phichit a hard look when he tries to fake innocence.
“I’m your best friend!” Even though Phichit’s puppy eyes are very effective, Yuuri has to draw a line somewhere. “We share everything!”
“The answer is no.”
“I didn’t even ask yet!” Phichit laughs brightly, reaching over the table to poke Yuuri’s arm. “At least tell me if it was good!”
Burying his face in his hands, Yuuri groans out loud.
“Yuuri, Yuuuuuri. All you have to do is nod!”
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m the best,” Phichit disagrees, kicking at Yuuri’s chair and feet. Their kitchen table is narrow, Yuuri an easy target. “It’s only fair you tell me when I helped you get together.”
“You did not.”
“But–“
Yuuri holds up a hand, silencing him. He takes another sip of his tea, keeping the hand up until he’s gathered his thoughts.
“There’s something more important to talk about.”
He can tell that it pains Phichit to stay silent, but thankfully he manages. Holding onto the mug with both hands, Yuuri draws in a deep breath.
“I’m switching coaches.”
Phichit doesn’t look nearly as shocked as he expected.
“Aww, that sucks,” he says, crossing his forearms over the tabletop and leaning on them. “But I totally get it if you want to move to Russia for Viktor.”
Yuuri stares at him for a long moment.
“I’m moving to Switzerland,” he says.
For a few seconds, Phichit blinks at him. Then his mouth falls open, hands coming up to cover his cheeks.
“What?! You’re going to train with Chris?”
He shakes his head, unable to help the excited smile taking over his face. As sad as it’ll be to leave Phichit, part of him still feels giddy at the thought of training with his childhood idol.
“No, I’m going to Stéphane.”
Phichit jumps up, chair clattering to the floor.
“Oh my god,” he says, eyes wide. “No way! That’s literally your dream come true!”
“I know!”
“But what about Viktor?”
“He’s coming too.”
“Oh. My. God!” Phichit runs around the table, grabbing Yuuri’s hands and pulling him up. “When did you decide this? Why didn’t you tell me immediately!”
He’s too tired to properly jump around with Phichit, but he makes a valiant attempt at least. It’s a relief that Phichit is happy for his sake – to be honest, he probably shouldn’t have worried.
“It’s not final yet,” he says, trying to rein them both in. “But Stéphane offered Viktor a job, and he agreed to a trial period coaching me, so…”
“That’s amazing.” Phichit shakes him by the shoulders, radiating excitement. “I’m so proud of you! So when are you leaving?”
Yuuri clears his throat, averting his eyes.
“Probably soon after New Year’s…”
“Oh.” Phichit calms down, squeezing his shoulders. “That’s really soon. And you’ve got Nationals in Japan.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh no, I miss you already!”
Phichit hugs him again, swaying them side to side.
“We’ll see each other at competitions, at least,” Yuuri tells him, hoping he won’t start crying. He’s not good with people crying (other than himself, maybe). “And you could come visit.”
The last part has Phichit perking up, releasing his death grip on him.
“I definitely will! Ah, but I was thinking about going home to Thailand for a bit next year… Now I don’t have to feel guilty for being the one leaving!”
“That sounds nice,” Yuuri says, sitting down again with a sigh. “I think I’m going to sleep for a week.”
“But Yuuri! We have to make the most of the time that’s left! And we need to have a big farewell party, and–“
Phichit quiets down at the tired look Yuuri gives him, mirth still glittering in his eyes.
“Sleep,” Yuuri says, legs protesting as he gets up again to make his way into bed.
He doesn’t doubt that Phichit will convince him to do all sorts of things to make up for moving away, but for now, he’ll let that be future Yuuri’s problem.
Before he falls into bed, he checks his phone. Viktor has replied to his message letting him know he landed, and the amount of hearts is almost indecent.
Smiling, he finally succumbs to sleep.
♡♡♡
“This is the best day of my life,” Yuri says, and Viktor can’t stop smiling.
Makkachin jumps around them, tangling their legs in her leash. It’s the middle of January, and Geneva airport has just enough people waiting in Arrivals to let them blend in a bit.
“Why isn’t he here yet? The plane already landed…”
Viktor ruffles his hair, giving up on detangling the excited poodle. She’s been excited since they left Russia, not to mention picking up on their impatience as they counted down the days to Yuuri’s arrival.
“He needs his bags, you know,” he says, shaking his head at Yuri’s pout. “Remember how many bags we brought? He’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”
Yuri stands on his tiptoes, clearly tired of the wait. Viktor sends a longing thought to his travel mug with coffee that he left in the car, having only himself to blame for barely sleeping last night. It was just too difficult, knowing it was his last one on his own. He hopes Yuuri will like their apartment – it’s nothing fancy, not like the one back in St Petersburg. But it’s theirs, and that’s all that matters.
Twenty minutes later, their wait is over.
His heart feels too big for his chest as Yuri rushes over, Yuuri dropping his bags to hug him. It’s too much. Surely, being this happy isn’t allowed? Yuuri lifts his head to find him, brown eyes too soft for Viktor to handle as their eyes meet.
He’s rooted to the spot, until Makkachin tugs at her leash. Stumbling forwards, he fights down the lump in his throat. He’s a mess, wrapping his arms around Yuuri and deciding he’ll just never let go again.
“Hi,” Yuuri says, fitting so perfectly against him.
“Welcome home,” he mumbles in reply, burying his nose in Yuuri’s hair.
Makkachin jumps on their legs, attempting to reach up and lick their faces. Yuuri laughs, bending down to greet her.
“Hello, Makkachin, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
He doesn’t mind that Makkachin slobbers all over him, pawing at his arms and chest. They’ve had enough video calls that he wonders if she recognizes him.
“We’ve been waiting forever!” Yuri says, crossing his arms with an imperious look. “Come on, I want to skate!”
“Yura,” Viktor sighs, sharing a fond look with Yuuri. “At least let Yuuri settle in first.”
“I don’t mind,” Yuuri laughs, straightening up. It’s as if Viktor managed to forget just how lovely he is, because his whole body feels like it’s buzzing at the sight. “I slept a bit on the flight, it would be nice to stretch my legs a bit.”
They spend the car ride catching up, because calls just aren’t the same. Viktor holds Yuuri’s hand between the seats, and Yuri doesn’t even comment on it. He’s riding a high of pure happiness, wondering how long it will last. Forever, he hopes.
Yuri barely allows them a tour of the apartment before he grabs his skating bag, calling at them from the hallway to hurry up.
“Just a moment!” Viktor calls back, closing the door to the bedroom and pulling Yuuri close. “Solnyshko, I missed you.”
Yuuri tilts his head up, lips in easy reach. His cheeks are rosy from the winter cold, coat still on.
“I’m finally here,” he says, reaching up to brush his fingers through Viktor’s fringe. “I don’t think we have more than ten seconds.”
Viktor still kisses him for the full ten, until Yuri slams the bedroom door open with the full force of a pre-teen out of patience.
“Now!” he demands, Makkachin trotting up behind him to agree.
It’s clear what the household priorities are going to be, since Yuuri slips out of his arms and joins them.
“I just need to get my things,” Yuuri says, heading for the hallway where they’d left most of his bags.
Yuri goes with him, leaving Viktor and Makkachin behind.
“Am I getting old?” he asks the poodle. “What’s wrong with settling in first?”
There’s no reply, of course. He’s definitely too old for sleepless nights, though.
“I’m buying more coffee on the way,” he promises himself out loud, grabbing a thicker sweater.
It’s hard to believe he and Yuri only moved a week ago themselves, everything a whirlwind of activity. He’s grateful to Stéphane for giving them some time to settle in before he has to start working, but he’s looking forward to it. Lilia had blown a fuse of course, but she’d get over it.
He finds Yuuri in the hallway, busy rummaging through a suitcase and muttering to himself.
“I know I put it somewhere here…”
“What are you looking for?”
Yuuri looks up, biting his lower lip. It’s so, so difficult not to kiss him, especially when he’s blushing.
“Oh, my mom got you something,” he says, turning back to dig a little more. “She worried you’ll get cold when you watch us skate.”
Helpless, Viktor accepts the scarf when Yuuri holds it out for him. It’s soft and dark blue, and it makes his heart ache for Hasetsu.
“She’s too nice,” he mumbles, clutching it to his chest.
This must be how it feels when your heart bursts from happiness, he thinks, and all he can manage is to stand there silently as Yuuri finishes packing a smaller gear bag to bring to the rink.
“Ready?” Yuuri asks, giving him a questioning look when he doesn’t reply.
“I was ready hours ago!” Yuri grumbles, bag over his shoulder and knitted hat pulled down low, Makkachin beside him. “Hurry, hurry!”
Is he ready? For this new life, full of love?
“Ready,” he says, following them outside.
The air is crisp in the parking lot, sun peeking out between the clouds. He pauses for a moment, watching his son and his boyfriend laugh together on the way to the car, Makkachin at their side. Slowly, he feels it settle in his chest.
I’m home, he thinks.
♡♡♡ EPILOGUE ♡♡♡
Yuuri’s focus doesn’t waver as Viktor joins him, the two arms around his waist and the lips pressed to his hairline background noise as he watches Yuri’s warm-up.
“How is he doing?” Viktor asks, keeping his voice a low murmur.
Music blares through the loudspeakers, drowning out most of the noise from the audience.
“He’ll be fine.” Yuuri makes a circling sign with his hand, Yuri nodding once. “Nothing wrong with his self-confidence, at least.”
Viktor hums in agreement, watching his son circle the ice, exchanging a few words with someone he passes.
“Who’s that?” he asks, eyeing the man curiously.
He’s taller than Yura, a serious look on his face. Still, his gaze lingers as Yuri passes him, and Viktor narrows his eyes in thought.
“What, you mean Otabek?”
“That’s Beka?” he asks, pursing his lips.
Yuuri turns in his hold to look at him, amused.
“How do you not recognize him?” he asks, and Viktor kisses his cheek like an afterthought.
“But he’s so…”
“So?”
“Older,” he finishes lamely.
Maybe it’s his fault for not paying attention. The boy that had befriended Yuri years ago was now clearly an adult. Well, so was Yuri, technically. His eighteenth birthday was just a week ago, and Viktor still doesn’t know how to deal with it.
It makes Yuuri laugh, but only for a moment. Yuri skates up to them, grabbing the water bottle Yuuri holds out for him.
“I think I’ll start with the salchow,” Yuri says, running a hand through his hair and completely messing up his short ponytail, swearing before retying it.
“Sounds good,” Yuuri replies.
Viktor is completely ignored. Not that he minds – he’s used to the switch between Coach Yuuri and Husband Yuuri. Yuri skates off again, the minutes ticking by. He’s in the second group, making his debut at senior Worlds. Yuuri skates last. It’ll be his last Worlds, and Viktor mourns with the rest of the world. But Yuuri is perfectly happy, sometimes muttering that he should have retired years ago. His love for skating is still there, and Viktor knows that even if he claims to have held on this long for Yuri’s sake, it was actually a tough decision to put competition on the shelf.
“And how are you feeling?” he asks, lacing his fingers with Yuuri’s over the rink boards, stroking the ring shining on his finger.
“Mm, don’t make me think about it.”
“Alright, alright.” He smiles, the audience clapping as Yuri successfully jumps a triple salchow. “Where’s Stéphane?”
“Yura banished him until the kiss and cry. Said he’s going to live his dream where I’m his actual coach.”
“Harsh.”
Even though Yuri had accepted that he wouldn’t get Yuuri as a coach until he’d officially retired, he was still coached by him. It worked out well, for the most part.
Yuuri shrugs, leaning into his chest.
“And what about you? Any final advice for me?”
Viktor lifts their right hands, shifting so that he can kiss Yuuri’s ring, and then his mouth.
“Just skate beautifully,” he tells him. “You always do.”
“Maybe you can carry me to the kiss and cry,” Yuuri muses, amusement dancing in his eyes. “For old time’s sake.”
Yuri skates by, doing a loop to make sure his glare is noticed.
“Stop distracting my coach!” he yells, moving on to jump a perfect quad toe loop for emphasis.
“That’s much better!” Yuuri calls after him, patting Viktor’s cheek. “Go somewhere else, I need to focus.”
“Cruel,” he sighs, but reluctantly releases Yuuri. “Making your husband cry in public.”
Yuuri rolls his eyes, making shooing motions at him. He moves aside, finding a spot where he rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the boards. It gives him a perfect view of Yuuri in his best element. He’s sure he’s got a silly smile on his face, as lovesick as ever.
But who can blame him, with a husband like that?