Status: Complete (One-shot)
Word Count: 3188
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Yuuri Katsuki/Viktor Nikiforov
Tags: Post-Canon, Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Feat. other food bc katsudon has been abused to hell and back for fluffy purposes, Yuuri is not a graceful sleeper, Top Victor Nikiforov, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri
Warning: None
AO3 Link: Here
Contribution for the @yoihomezine! And thanks to @narcissuspseudonarcissus for the beta work!
Smutty under the cut, so you know ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Viktor had expected a bit of a challenge in getting Yuuri settled in St. Petersburg. Things like Yuuri having a hard time grasping basic Russian, experiencing customs he wasn’t used to, struggling in his interactions with the rest of the people at the rink, or getting lost while going places. Viktor had taken the preventive measure of never leaving the Japanese alone if possible — too much according to Yuuri, but to Viktor it was nothing if not necessary.
And it was a bit of a challenge alright, but not in the ways Viktor actually expected.
It had been almost two full weeks, and Viktor had failed to fully convince Yuuri he was more than just a guest in his apartment.
It started the moment Yuuri moved in, mid January. They had agreed for Yuuri to stay longer, so he had brought more luggage than he usually did. The apartment lounge and the bedroom were quickly occupied by boxes and of varied sizes, which contrasted starkly with the rest of the tidy residence. Viktor didn’t mind, there was something about having Yuuri’s stuff in his apartment that made it feel cozier.
But then Viktor noticed how Yuuri never finished unpacking his things. Stuff would be unpacked, used, and then packed again. Clothes would be worn, washed and then folded back into the luggage. Even Yuuri’s game console, which took some while to figure out how to properly connect to Viktor’s television, was disconnected and stored again after each use.
Trying to address the problem directly was turning out to be fruitless as well.
“Yuuri, you can unpack your stuff. I don’t mind. There’s enough space around the apartment anyways.”
Yuuri smiled sheepishly, answering back with a nervous chuckle “Ah, it’s nothing really. I just thought it would be better to save space.”
Viktor pouted a little at Yuuri’s reply. That was the worst excuse Yuuri had come up with, ever. If anything, all the boxes around took more space than if Yuuri just unpacked his things, and the constant having to put stuff back in the boxes was just a waste of time.
“I really don’t mind.” Viktor said with more emphasis.
But Yuuri simply waved him off with the same nervous expression.
Viktor knew Yuuri wasn’t a man easily convinced by words. He had learned that the hard way, since last year, the moment he began to train Yuuri. His beloved needed to be encouraged, given reasons to choose by himself.
So Viktor began with the closet. A huge thing spanning an entire wall, meant to not only store his impressive collection of outfits but also be big enough to store them all while also allowing some space between them, as to avoid crumpling and wrinkling. Viktor only spared that thought a second before shoving half the clothes together and leaving the other half of the closet almost mostly emptied — he was still trying to be somewhat discreet, Yuuri may protest if he emptied the entire side.
He left a few unoccupied hooks and moved Yuuri’s clothing boxes inside. It barely took a day for Yuuri to wonder where they had gone.
“Viktooooooor,” Yuuri called one day while looking around the hall, “Have you seen my boxes?”
“Which ones?” Replied Viktor, sitting in the couch with a book in hand, knowing perfectly well what his Yuuri was asking about.
“The ones where I kept my clothes.”
“Ah! I left those in the closet since they were taking space in the hall, and most of the closet is empty anyways.” He answered, feeling a smidge of guilt at his trickery.
He peeked from behind his book to notice how Yuuri’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, but the other didn’t protest.
In the end, it had worked. Slowly but surely Yuuri’s clothes got unpacked, the hangers got used, and Viktor’s closet got filled by twice the amount of parkas, t-shirts and sweats he’s ever had in his life in the span of a single week. The only boxes still inside were for Yuuri’s shoes.
Fulfillment shouldn’t be an emotion anyone would relate to the sight of a dirty shirt thrown over his sofa, but Viktor couldn’t think of any other word for it. From obnoxious impersonal tidiness to obnoxious familiar disorder was a big step when Yuuri Katsuki was concerned.
But that alone wasn’t enough and Viktor knew it. So he was taking the next step: Homely food.
Viktor waited for a day when he could surprise Yuuri, which didn’t take too long to arrive. He had been preoccupied with promotional work for almost the entirety of that particular day, while Yuuri went to practice with the rest of Viktor’s rinkmates.
Given the way Yuuri had been pushing himself lately, Viktor wanted to reward his beloved’s effort on top of wanting to make him feel more at home. He took a small detour while driving home to buy the stuff he needed for tonight’s dinner, planned specifically for Yuuri’s enjoyment — according to Yuuri’s friend Phichit.
Looking for ideas Viktor has asked around and researched on some of Yuuri’s old habits, tastes and hobbies. He already knew a fair bit from his stay in Hasetsu, and the Katsukis were more than happy to share everything they knew — enthusiastic even, Viktor was sure that by this point there wasn’t an aspect of Yuuri’s childhood Hiroko had forgotten to talk about.
But most of the stuff they mentioned was either too familiar with Japan, risking making Yuuri melancholic, or too old to be familiar anymore. That’s when Viktor remembered Yuuri had roomed together with Phichit back when he was studying in America, so Viktor contacted the young Thai man for ideas.
It took barely a minute for Phichit to reply to Viktor’s message, and it was more than likely that sending Viktor a friend request ate up more of those seconds than the reply itself. But he got the answers he wanted, which now came back home with Viktor inside a pair of grocery bags.
Viktor struggled a bit trying to open the door to the apartment, his excitement making him completely forget that he could simply lay the bags on the floor for a minute while he opened the door, but somehow he managed.
Usually Yuuri and he spent the day together, given their status as both coach, student and fellow skaters, but when they had to go their separate ways, one of them would always be home to welcome the other when they returned. Even in the rare occasions they had to leave Makkachin home — which Viktor always tried to make exceptionally rare — she would always be waiting in front of the door to welcome them with a happy bark.
Today however he was greeted by the muffled, electronic sound of a TV in the distance and the sight of Yuuri sprawled over the sofa, still in his practice clothes, sleeping with his glasses on and his mouth parting, the perfect picture of bone-seeping exhaustion.
Charming, adorable, bone-seeping exhaustion.
On top of him lay Makkachin, with her head over Yuuri’s chest, somehow the full press of her weight not bothering the Japanese in the slightest. Unlike Yuuri, Makkachin was awake and alert, her ears perking up the moment she heard Viktor come in.
Viktor smiled to her, placing his index over his lips in a “shush” sign. She immediately understood, smart girl that she was, and moved off Yuuri’s chest without waking him.
“Good girl,” whispered Viktor, patting her head affectionately before picking up the grocery bags once again and taking them to the kitchen, Makkachin following close behind. Viktor placed the bags over the kitchen island and began taking out their contents one by one.
Viktor didn’t cook very often, but when he did it was usually for the sake of treating himself to dishes he didn’t get to eat very often, childhood dishes or interesting, multiple-step things he saw shared on social media.
It felt kind of strange that today instead he was going for a very simple, kind of ordinary dish — Mac n’ cheese.
According to Phichit, it had been Yuuri’s comfort food whenever pressure, anxiety or homesickness bore too heavily on him, back when he was still training in the United States.
Katsudon was something they shared in Hasetsu, in Yuuri’s childhood home. Viktor wanted something that could bring ‘home’ here and not force Yuuri’s thoughts back to Japan, so his college days’ comfort food could do. Viktor had never made Mac n’ cheese before, but he studied videos and instructions with dedication, in secret, so he could surprise Yuuri, and was confident he could do this without trouble.
And he did. It was simple enough to make even with the more gourmet additions and instructions he was using, Viktor was done in barely an hour, just as the sun had almost completely settled in the sky. Viktor took two bowls of his porcelain dinnerware set, wanting to make it extra special for his Yuuri, and filled them before placing them on the counter while he went to wake Yuuri up.
His beloved had barely moved from the position Viktor had found him in, having only moved a little away from the edge of the couch.
Viktor brought a hand to gently brush the side of Yuuri’s face and kissed his cheek tenderly, uncaring of the dried sweat clinging to the latter’s skin and hair. “Yuuri, love, wake up, it’s time for dinner.”
It took around a minute of gentle touches and whispers until Yuuri fully roused. “Ah…Viktor?” Yuuri rubbed his eyes, “Ugh, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. And in my sweaty clothes too… Sorry…”
Viktor kissed Yuuri’s temple, “It’s fine. I made us dinner tonight. We can eat now and bathe together later, yes?”
Yuuri wasn’t drowsy enough not to pick on the hint. With a playful pout he replied “Shower only. I’m too tired anything more than that…”
Viktor laughed, placing another kiss over Yuuri’s temple. “Okay, okay!”
He took Yuuri’s hand to guide him to the kitchen. Yuuri’s eyes, which had been slightly dulled with sleep and tiredness, sparkled the moment he noticed what their dinner consisted off.
“I see you like it! I made it especially for you~” Viktor said in the most comically flirty voice he could.
“But, isn’t it too many carbs…?”
“You’ve been working really hard since you arrived. As your coach I say you have earned a reward!”
Yuuri stared back for a few seconds, before his lips quirked in an amused smirk. Without any more protest he took his plate and a fork, only stopping for one last quip before digging in.
“I changed my mind. We can do more than showering.”
It was Viktor’s turn to be pleasantly surprised.
Viktor spared no expense by the time Valentine’s Day rolled around. They had missed the chance to celebrate New Year’s, Viktor’s birthday, or even Christmas together — not that Viktor cared about the latter, but a chance to celebrate was as good as any — so, unlike the subtle domesticity of his pampering of Yuuri these last days, for Valentine’s Viktor wanted to properly wine, dine and spoil his timid and frugal lover.
Yuuri may have felt the same, since he didn’t protest the moment Viktor asked about taking the day off.
Viktor had long anticipated this day, and planned accordingly: Taking a walk with Makkachin through St. Petersburg’s most pleasant plazas and boulevards. Comfortable lunch at a cafe with a beautiful garden view. A gift of diamond cufflinks for Yuuri — that he seemed awfully flustered about until Viktor pointed out it would match his own. Dinner at a high-end restaurant with more dinnerware than any person should actually need and fragrant wine that tinged Yuuri’s cheeks an adorable shade of red. And finishing with box seats at the ballet theatre.
All very fancy, all very expensive, all worth the adoring look Yuuri had by the end of the night.
They had barely made it through the apartment’s doorway when Yuuri pinned him to the wall, capturing Viktor’s lips on his own in a breathtaking kiss, still sweet with the taste of wine.
Viktor hands were drawn to Yuuri’s hips almost unconsciously.
“Y-Yuuri…” Viktor stuttered when they broke apart for air. Yuuri drew away from his lips but not from his flesh, kissing a trail along his cheek and towards his neck, hands working to undo Viktor’s tie.
A well-placed love bite between his ear and neck had Viktor unable to stifle a cry. Yuuri’s chuckle afterwards had something else stifling.
Such Eros was going to be the death of him.
“Viktor…” Yuuri hushed against his skin, “Won’t you take me to our bedroom?”
Viktor’s thoughts stopped for a moment, focusing on Yuuri’s wording. Our bedroom. Not “your”, not Viktor’s, our.
Driven by elation and impatience, and with a bit more strength that he intended to, Viktor lifted Yuuri in his arms and carried him all the way from the hallway to the bedroom, drinking in the sound of Yuuri’s surprised cry and laughter.
There was something simultaneously romantic, cheesy and domestic about carrying Yuuri bridal-style to their bedroom, and seeing Yuuri in the same state with the way he laughed and wrapped his arms around Viktor’s shoulders, that had the latter dizzy with giddiness.
