Part III: on the path we walk together

"The crowd is vibrating with excitement as we prepare for reigning Grand Prix champion Katsuki Yuuri to take the ice. Many had speculated that his brilliant run last year was all due to Victor Nikiforov's coaching, but even without Nikiforov as his coach he gave us a stellar performance yesterday at the short program."

"Katsuki has refused to answer any questions about what may have caused his split with Nikiforov, is it possible they had a major disagreement?"

Yuuri fiddled with his phone one last time, hesitant. He had about two minutes before he had to step into the rink. He knew feeling this nervous was ridiculous, but it was still strange to stand here like this, alone. Even if in his heart, he knew he wasn't, the lingering memory of gliding to the kiss & cry to find out Victor was really gone still made his heart sink.

And in that precise moment, his phone rang.

"I'm right here." came the soothing voice before he even had the chance to say anything, and although there were thousands of miles between them, it felt as if he was standing right next to him. Yuuri's eyes burned and he touched the spot above his hipbone. If he pressed it a little deeper, he could still feel the throb of the mark that was just beginning to fade, and that little jolt of pain grounded him.

"I know."

"That costume looks perfect on you. I wish I could see it in person. Hold you while you wear it."

He swallowed hard and felt himself smile. "You will, soon. So for now watch me."

"I always am."

He shrugged off his jacket after he'd tucked his phone in one of the pockets, and stepped out to the ice, to the roaring welcome of the crowd.

"Japan's Katsuki Yuuri, ladies and gentlemen! He finished first yesterday after the short program, but last year his free wasn't completely refined at the start of the season, so we might see a repeat of that tonight."

"He's said his theme for this season is—"

The first notes of the violin drowned every other noise in the rink. Yuuri took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around himself.

At all times, he could feel intense, ice blue eyes on him.

"We're reporting live from the NHK Trophy in Sapporo, and it's an exciting day here at this, the third event of the Grand Prix Series! After taking a year off competition, Russia's living legend and five time Grand Prix champion Victor Nikiforov is now taking the ice for his free program and the crowd is going wild!"

"Nikiforov gave us a spectacular performance yesterday for the short program and landed first place. He's starting this season strong and looks ready to get back the crown from his former student Katsuki Yuuri from Japan, who recently earned silver at the Rostelecom Cup."

"There has been no official statement from either party to explain the termination of their coach-student relationship, but it will be interesting to see these two champions face off at the Finals."

Victor smiled as he greeted the audience with open arms, waving and blowing kisses at the cameras, hoping one of them would be the one sending its footage back to Yuuri. It was immensely amusing to hear the bewilderment in the announcers' voices as they scrambled to try and come up with some explanation to his "break" with Yuuri. If only they knew.

He wished Yuuri could be here now just so he could say "I told you they'd be surprised!"

Oh, and the surprises were only getting started.

He started moving as soon as he heard the first notes of the piano. The announcers' voices were getting lost in the loud cheering of the crowd.

"He's told us he wants to dedicate this program to 'the person who gave him life and love'. His theme for this season is actually the same as—"

This program was harsh. Getting back to competition after a year was way more difficult than he'd anticipated. The ice on his blades and the roar of the crowd made his blood pump, goosebumps rising on his skin. After the fourth jump, exhaustion was already starting to pull at his muscles, and he could almost hear his hipbone whining at the abuse, but he couldn't afford to falter. If people were going to remember him for something, he wanted it to be this program, and for that purpose, he had to do it justice. He needed to get his mind to the right place, the core of his inspiration.

"Are you actually trying to kill me, Yuuri? I don't have your stamina, you know that."

Yuuri had smirked at him, provoking. "Must I remind you this was your idea to begin with? Or are you giving up on me already, old man? Aren't you feeling too self-complacent? Do you really think you can beat me with any less than this?"

"Alright, then, but if I manage to survive this season you'll have to massage my legs every day for the rest of my life."

"Medal this season and we can negotiate a once-a-week service."

Victor had kissed him then, quick and enticing; then licked his lips for good measure, "Deal."

"For his last jump he's planned a quadruple flip. It's his signature move, but he's never done it this late in the program, let's see if he can overcome the exhaustion and… A Quad Flip! Amazing! He's landed it! Marvelous execution! The crowd is on fire! Victor Nikiforov is taking his first gold of the season today, and we're sure it won't be his last!"

He struck his final pose drawing his hands from the joint of his neck and shoulder, were the faintest bruise hadn't finished fading, down over his heart and extending his arms towards the nearest camera, smiling wide.

His legs felt like jelly when he finally stepped out of the ice, and he almost had to drag himself to the kiss & cry to wait for his scores. He heaved a sigh of relief when he finally plopped down on a chair, and at that moment, his phone started buzzing from inside his jacket pocket. He didn't need to check the caller ID to know.

"You were amazing out there."

His heart swelled.

"Did I get the right camera?"

Yuuri laughed. "No, but I appreciate that you tried. Are your legs okay? You look really tired."

Before he could answer, he heard Yuuri's gasp of "Yes!", followed by the scores appearing on the screen in front of him, but he smiled and carried on. He was kind of hoping to get a new personal best this season to end on a high note, but it was honestly kind of a miracle that he'd pulled off a clean program after staying away from the ice for so long, so he was satisfied with this result.

"Oh? Now you're worried about my endurance? Well don't. This old man still has a lot of surprises under his sleeve."

The fondness in Yuuri's voice made his heart melt "I'm looking forward to them."

The press was starting to get all on his case, asking who he was talking to, if the person on the phone was the one he'd dedicated his program to (how perceptive), blinding him with their camera flashes.

"I gotta go, but I hope I earned myself that once-a-week service?"

Yuuri chuckled. "We'll see when you get back home."

Home.

Victor loved how that word sounded in Yuuri's voice.

"And Victor," Yuuri said in a hurry "Congratulations!"

"Expelled from Paradise?! Victor Nikiforov goes from Yuuri Katsuki's coach to rival for next season"

"Five-time World Champion Victor Nikiforov skates his last season to 'Life and Love'. Is Russia's most coveted bachelor taken?"

"Scandalous! Was Victor showing off a love bite in his first competition of the season?"

Yuuri woke up in his hotel in Chicago to an empty bed and the sound of his phone buzzing. The fleeting panic that had settled on his heart evaporated as he saw the name on the screen, and he was quick to slide his thumb over the green answer button. Sparkling ice blue eyes greeted him excitedly, the noise of bedsheets being rustled muffling the sound.

"Good morning, Yuuri!"

A smile stretched on his lips. "It's already two in the morning over there, why are you still awake? The time difference is too big." he laughed, wondering if Victor could actually see him given how close he was to the camera.

He couldn't really see more than Victor's eyes, but he didn't miss how they wrinkled with fondness at the corners "I wanted to be here when you woke up." he said quietly, barely above a whisper.

Yuuri's chest ached. "The camera's too close, all I see is your eyes."

"But that's how it is when you wake up by my side, isn't it?"

His heart skipped a beat. He was going to complain about how it was too early and he was too sleepy to survive Victor's corniest mood when he heard a woof and the image turned fuzzy for a moment as Victor laughed.

"Alright, alright, you can talk to him too, but only if you lie here where he can see us both." Victor cooed, pulling the phone farther from his face, to where Yuuri could see him lying on their pillows, silver hair fanned out in disarray, a streak of moonlight that came from the window making his pale skin gleam. Makkachin soon plopped right in front of him and Victor hugged him to his chest, nuzzling the furry top of his head. Without really thinking about it, Yuuri took a screencap and set it as his background picture. "You know, he had a serious freak out when I came back alone this morning. He wouldn't believe me when I said you'd be back soon until your Mom and Dad confirmed it. What kind of spell did you put on my dog, Yuuri? He doesn't trust me anymore!"

Yuuri's heart squeezed with longing. "I'm sorry, Makkachin, Victor didn't do anything stupid this time, okay? I promise I'll see you in a few days." He cooed, and Makkachin barked in agreement. Yuuri looked up up at the camera so Victor would feel he was looking at his eyes. "You on the other hand…" he trailed off.

"Still ten more really long days to go." Victor completed. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." He really wished he could bury himself in Victor's arms right about now.

"I wish we'd gotten the same assignments, I hate being apart for so long."

Yuuri smiled at that. "But isn't it more exciting like this? We'll face off at the Final for sure."

"Oh, absolutely. I won't go easy on you, you know?"

"I'd never expect you to. You'll watch me tomorrow, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything. Makkachin and I will be cheering for you so loud, you'll hear our voices across the Pacific."

Yuuri's belly fluttered warmly "I'm looking forward to it."

His phone was ringing before he even reached the Kiss & Cry.

"Victor, are you alright? That fall looked really bad."

Victor smiled fondly, even if Yuuri couldn't see him. "I've had worse." He replied noncommittally, rubbing his sore hip with his free hand. Definitely didn't hurt half as much as those awful falls, back in St. Petersburg when his quad flip had gotten messed up. "My ego though, Yuuri, is going to need weeks and weeks of praise and love to grow back to health, otherwise I won't be able to compete!" he whined as he let his body go limp on a chair in front of the score screen, his expression contorting melodramatically. By Yuuri's snort, Victor assumed this time he had found the camera that was feeding to Yuuri's livestream, so he made sure to blow a kiss in its direction.

"Hmmm, I wonder. Sometimes being too healthy isn't such a good idea." Yuuri commented, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Victor was about to quip back when the scores appeared on the screen. His face fell. "I might not make it back home alive after all, Yuuri, I've just taken a critical hit." He bemoaned. Yuuri, unsurprisingly, laughed.

"Oh, Yurio's never gonna' let you live this down for sure." He breathed in between chuckles.

"Oh no, he still nags me about that World record, this is just going to make it worse." He wailed in dismay. "But he's in top condition and had an extra dose of motivation because he wanted to impress his Kazakh hero friend so bad, of course he'd get a new personal best and everything. You should've seen him when he gave him those souvenirs it was—"

"Is that so? Have you stopped trying to impress me then?"

Victor knew no one would believe him if he said Yuuri was the most vicious person in the entire world, but he absolutely was. He had a way with words that always left Victor scrambling for something to say.

"You know that's always what I strive for. Didn't I surprise you in the slightest?" he pouted.

"Well, that fall was pretty surprising; I hadn't seen you do that in a while."

"Yuuri, my ego, have mercy!"

"Let's see…" Yuuri hummed. Makkachin woofed somewhere in the background "I wanted to tell you face to face, but since that ego of yours seems ready to call an ambulance, I guess I can say it now: I love how you love your program. I'm sure everyone watching could tell. And every time I see you skating it, I feel you love it even more."

Victor felt warmth bloom on his cheeks, his chest swelling with pride. He smiled, affection welling in his heart. "Of course I love it, how could I not?" Camera flashes and Yurio's distant mocking voice reminded him of where he was and he sighed. "Sorry, it looks like they're waiting for me to start the awards ceremony. I'll catch the first plane after the gala tomorrow." He patted his legs to will them to move. "Don't even try to tell me I don't need to rush back or that I should rest, I'm not staying away from you one minute more than necessary."

He heard Yuuri sigh. "Okay, but let me know which flight you're boarding so I can pick you up at the airport. And try to get some sleep on the plane. And be nice to Yurio, he's earned this."

"Will do, will do, honestly, you dote on him too much."

"What a night we've had here at the Tropheé de France! The astonishing Yuri Plisetsky who just made his senior debut last year has earned his first Grand Prix gold beating five-time champion Victor Nikiforov, who has guaranteed his qualification to the Finals with today's silver. Nikiforov is the second competitor that has earned his pass to the Grand Prix Finals, following Japan's Katsuki Yuuri who got a gold medal in Skate America a few days ago and—"

Victor heard Makkachin's woofs before he was even through the door, and his eyes immediately went to search for Yuuri's frame. He saw Yuuri leap from a seat and start running towards the gate. There was a long wall of crystal that kept him from reaching Yuuri one second sooner and Victor loathed it. Seeing Yuuri and not being able to hold him yet made him ache. This god forsaken airport. He practically dashed to the exit gate, nearly running over two or three people, his luggage forgotten halfway when it had become too cumbersome to run with it. As soon as the automatic doors opened, Victor tackled Yuuri to the ground, holding him tight in his arms where he belonged.

"Finally." He sighed, the heavy longing that had been weighing down his heart for the past three weeks receding at last. He allowed himself to breathe in Yuuri's scent, his nose buried deep in his neck, and then pulled back to look at Yuuri's eyes. He was half expecting to get a 'it's still over an hour before we're back at the inn', but all he saw was welcoming warmth and a smile so soft Victor might have melted.

"Welcome back."

Makkachin, who had a most amazing sense of timing, interrupted with long wet kisses to Victor's cheek.

"Oh, don't act all sappy on me now, you traitor." He huffed with laughter, sitting up and patting Makkachin's head. "I bet you didn't miss me one bit." He helped Yuuri back on his feet, but didn't let go of his hand afterwards. "I'm sure you were happy you had Yuuri all to yourself, weren't you?"

Yuuri laughed and nudged him in the ribs. "He did miss you, he'd come running from anywhere in the inn when I called you. I'm sure you heard him over the phone many times"

"He was just bragging that he got to share the bed with Yuuri while I didn't, don't think I don't understand what my own dog says."

Makkachin seemed to not care much about the conversation and instead just licked Victor's free hand. "Okay, okay, I missed you too, even if you're a traitor." He finally conceded, scratching Makkachin's floppy ears.

Yuuri giggled and tugged on their laced hands. "Let's go grab your suitcase and get back home."

Victor smiled.

I'm already there.

Victor had always considered himself a crowd-pleaser, but if he was to be honest, he was growing a little bit tired of all these press conferences. How many more times would he have to answer why he'd decided to come back? How many more tabloids asking if he'd had a falling out with Yuuri and if so why was he still living in Hasetsu? How many more teen magazines would hassle him with questions about who was the person he'd dedicated his free skate to and why didn't they appear in any of his social media? (they did, oh Victor had so many photos of Yuuri on Instagram).

"Yuuri, let's go eat something, I know a really good seafood place." He whined, draping an arm around Yuuri's shoulder –still an acceptable amount of PDA that wouldn't fuel too much speculation yet. Tonight would be their last chance for a truly romantic evening in Marseille before the competition started in full gear tomorrow.

"Victor, just one more question, please!" a young reporter called over the crowd. She looked nervous and a little frantic. Victor had never seen her before, so he guessed this might be her first time covering such a major event. He imagined she was from another teenage magazine and would probably ask him for the millionth time what his favorite color was, but she had a sparkle in her eye and he figured it wouldn't hurt to give her something to jump-start her career.

"Sure, shoot me a good one." And he added a playful wink for good measure.

The reporter nodded and looked at her notes. "Y-your free program for this season is very different to what you've done before, did you choreograph it yourself?"

Victor cocked his head. For some reason, he hadn't seen that one coming. "No?" He turned to look at Yuuri. "Wait, I hadn't said this before?"

Yuuri shook his head. "I don't think anyone had asked."

"Oh, well then." He turned back to the reporter, beaming. "I didn't! Yuuri choreographed it for me! Isn't it great?" he puffed his chest with pride. "But I did choreograph Yuuri's free, what did you think of that one? I think it's my best work so far."

It had been a little hard to convince Yuuri about this crazy idea of his. He was aware it was a little bit out there, especially given how little time they had, but he couldn't shake off the excitement of one last season, competing against Yuuri at his best, carving declarations of love for him on the ice where the whole world could see.

"Victor, this is insane." He'd said when Victor had sprung the proposition on him, late at night, tangled in each other's arms.

"It's going to be the best surprise!"

Yuuri had looked at him, anxious and insecure.

"Do you really think we can do this?"

Victor had smiled, dozens of ideas already bubbling in his mind, his body thrumming with the anticipation of a new adventure.

"I think we can do anything we set our minds to."

"But I've never really choreographed anything."

Victor had grabbed Yuuri's hands and kissed his knuckles one by one, softly, and felt Yuuri's shoulders relax a little. "Just give me something you want to see me do. You're the one who skated my gold-winning program to its full potential, I wouldn't trust anyone else with this." He breathed in the scent of Yuuri's hands and met his eyes, smiling reassuringly. "I already have lots of ideas of what I want for you."

Yuuri had chuckled, spreading his hands to touch Victor's face with his fingertips "And how many of those require me to get naked on the ice?"

He'd laughed, playful, happy, fulfilled. "Whoops, busted."

"Aren't you going a bit overboard with so many surprises?"

Victor had then pulled a little away just so he could see all of Yuuri's face, hopefully convey his own determination and how important this was for him. "Yuuri, it'll be the last season, I don't want anyone to forget it, ever. I want it to go down in the history books as the best last season anyone ever skated."

Yuuri had raised one eyebrow, curious, his eyes sparkling with interest, that lovely glow of when he was looking for something, expecting something. "Whose best last season? Yours or mine?"

And Victor had known the answer to that question long before Yuuri ever thought of it.

"Ours."

The reporters' frenzy that followed his response seemed to draw even more people around them. Yuuri sighed as if he'd just said something terrible. The entire room went wild.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why did you choreograph each other's program?"

"If you were going to choreograph Katsuki Yuuri, why did you stop being his coach?"

"Do you really trust that, as mutual competitors, you would give each other a winning program? Don't you both want to win?"

Victor's nostrils flared at the insinuation. The gall of this people. With a congenial smile that didn't reach his eyes, he grabbed the microphone that was closest and looked straight at the first camera he found.

"The free program that Yuuri prepared for me is my favorite out of all the ones I've ever skated. If I fail to win with this program it will be due to my own short-comings alone." He could feel ire rising in his stomach. This wasn't what he wanted at all. He hated the way these media people jumped to the worst possible conclusions. He was getting ready to let his crowd-pleasing mask fall off and give these people a piece of his mind when Yuuri cut him off, lightly shoving him away from the microphones

"Uhm… to be honest it's a complicated feeling because I want to win, but I also want to see the program I choreographed win because I'm very proud of it. I have been a fan of Victor for a very long time so when he asked me to do this I was truly honored. I would be very happy if Victor would win his sixth Grand Prix gold with my choreography." His eyes hardened, and he looked up, a determined smile on his lips. "But I also treasure the program Victor created for me, and I have other reasons to win, so I won't be going easy on you."

Victor's heart skipped a beat, his rage immediately soothed, and his heart swelled with excitement. "I wouldn't ask for any less."

"On the ice we have current Grand Prix champion, representing Japan: Katsuki Yuuri!"

"He finished up first after the short program, beating his former coach Victor Nikiforov by 2.34 and setting a new personal best. His free skate has been choreographed by Nikiforov himself."

"With such a small lead, and Nikiforov's flawless performance a few minutes ago, Katsuki can't afford any miss if he wants to defend his title. His first planned jump is a quad toe-triple toe combination and he nails it marvelously! If he can carry on like this he'll probably take the gold with ease."

Yuuri couldn't hear a thing. He couldn't hear if the audience was cheering. Couldn't hear what the announcers were saying. Couldn't even hear if Victor was saying something –in fact, he could hardly tell where Victor was at all. All he could hear was the violin and the pounding of his heart. He could do this. Now of all times he couldn't afford to lose, not even to Victor. Nerves started coiling in his gut at that thought, and his mind immediately went back to that jewelry shop in Barcelona, that velvet box he'd buried inside a drawer for as many months as he'd been paying installments and Victor's fake smile when he'd come down from the podium at last year's Final.

Letting meaningless things get into his head had but one inevitable outcome.

"His first jump for the second half will be a quad Flip. Since last year he's been banking on his high endurance to perform more difficult jumps in the second half to earn extra points, and so far it's paid off, let's see if… oh, he fell! That looked like it got enough rotations in, but the deduction might just be enough to make him lose the gold!"

Yuuri didn't even want to look at Victor when he stepped off the ice, but he let his long arms wrap around him and comfort him, burying his nose in the crook of Victor's neck, where the marks he'd left had long disappeared. He felt tears burning at the back of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Victor, I screwed it up… the program you made for me. I'm so sorry." He sobbed, angry.

Victor stroked his back and nuzzled his temple softly. "No, my love, don't be. You were beautiful out there, I'm so proud of you. It was a small miss, happens to all of us. You're not hurt, are you?"

Yuuri shook his head. "Just my ego." He replied even if that wasn't all of it. His mind went back to the velvet box and how he'd have to wait even longer now. It was frustrating.

"I have a lot of experience nursing egos, we'll get yours back in shape in no time." Victor mumbled gently. "Come on, let's go wait for your scores."

"These are your medalists for this year's ISO Grand Prix Final! In first place, gold medal, representing Russia: Victor Nikiforov!"

Victor glided on the ice, arms spread wide, taking in the exhilaration of the crowd. It had been a long time since he'd felt this excited about winning. In fact, this was probably the most pride and joy he'd felt after any victory, and he knew it was because of how much he loved his program. He made two laps around the rink, basking in the collective euphoria before climbing up to the top of the podium, still smiling and waving, before his eyes went to the rink entrance.

"In second place, silver medal, representing Japan: Yuuri Katsuki!"

His heart swelled with even more pride –if that was even possible- as the crowd went wild when Yuuri stepped on the ice. They really did love him. They saw what Victor saw in him, all that talent and passion and music. Victor could still see lingering redness at the corners of his beautiful brown eyes. He hated that Yuuri still managed to feel disappointed in himself after such a beautiful performance and he hated that he didn't know the right words to make him feel better. He had a feeling this wasn't just about not winning, that there was something else causing Yuuri's frustration, but he couldn't quite figure it out yet.

He brushed the thought aside when Yuuri glided to the podium. They exchanged a noncommittal hug (and Yuuri whispered 'Congratulations' in his ear, and made him shiver), and for a fleeting moment, as he helped Yuuri climb on to the second step, he felt the urge to kiss him.

Not yet.

What makes a great surprise is to break it at just the right moment.

"In third place, bronze medal, representing Switzerland: Christophe Giaccometti!"

He glanced sideways at Yuuri, smiling as he waved at the audience, and he wished above all things, that Yuuri could feel as proud of himself as Victor was. He felt incredibly giddy, just sharing the podium with Yuuri, felt himself jittering with excitement. He almost got caught off guard when the officials came to give them their medals and flowers. He hooked one arm around Yuuri's and helped him and Chris climb to the top of the podium, showing their medals at the cameras. ("You could've let me take that center spot at least this last time." Chris complained "I respect you too much for that, my friend." Victor laughed.)

"Yuuri, are you still upset?" he whispered, leaning slightly into him. "It was only a 0.29 difference; you'll get back at me in Pyeongchang."

Yuuri leaned back against him, ever so slightly "Of course I'm still upset. I wanted…" his eyes flickered away, searching, and there was definitely something Yuuri was keeping from him, but Victor trusted he'd tell him when he felt the time was right. Then Yuuri's brows furrowed a little and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Don't you dare lose on purpose next time."

Victor beamed. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They stepped off the podium for a last lap around the rink and more photos. Yuuri seemed to be struggling to figure out what to do with his flowers while also showing his medal to the cameras and waving to the people. It was pretty cute.

"I'll say that I'm also happy." Yuuri said in between photos, barely even looking at him, his cheeks flushed light pink. "The program I created for you… it was just like I envisioned it. I loved watching you skate to it in person."

"And hearing that makes me happier than these ugly plastic medals ever could." He grinned, holding the item for emphasis. Was this really going to be his last Grand Prix gold? Preposterous. "I mean, look at this! It's like they're not even trying. Back in my time, they looked like they were worth the effort it took to win." To his surprise, Yuuri started giggling, but it soon turned into full-body laughter until Yuuri was doubling over himself and the cameramen were starting to ask what on Earth they were talking about. "Yuuri, stop laughing, this is serious! What will become of this spor— Yuuri!"

"And to close this gala exhibition, the men's single gold medalist Victor Nikiforov!"

"I must say his exhibition program this season has been… not as spectacular as what we've come to expect from him. His is still one of the finest artistic expressions this sport has ever seen, but many have expressed confusion at the relative simplicity of his EX program this year, especially considering how absolutely incredible he has been throughout the season. Let's see if he has tweaked the program after the great victory he got yesterday."

"Here he is and he's chosen a –hold on, hold on ladies and gentlemen, Japan's Katsuki Yuuri is joining him on the ice, what is happening here?! Had anyone heard anything about this? It… it doesn't appear as if anyone's planning to stop them and yes, yes it looks like they have prepared some sort of collaboration for us tonight!"

Yuri gaped. "O-o-oi are they seriously gonna do that crap here?" He could hear Yakov swearing a few steps away.

Otabek raised an eyebrow at him "Do you know what they're planning?"

"I… I think so… maybe… Are they even allowed to do that?"

Otabek shrugged. "I don't recall any specific rules that forbid it."

"Their outfits kind of match, don't they?" Mila chimed in, touching her own cheek with her finger, pensively. "Maybe they'd been planning it all along and that's why both their EX have been kind of boring until now?"

Mila's explanation made too much sense and Yuri wanted to hurl.

Victor's hand was trembling in Yuuri's as they greeted the audience. A year ago, Yuuri would have never imagined that Victor's hands ever trembled. Now he'd seen and felt them do it many times: when Victor had performed that piece for him in the quiet of Ice Castle, when his mother had forgiven him, when they'd had to part ways, even if they knew it would be temporary, when they kissed, when they made love, when they felt each other's heartbeat, when it was too much. For some reason, knowing that Victor shared his nervousness, made it feel terribly insignificant.

Yuuri squeezed Victor's fingers with his. "Let's surprise them." He muttered softly, smiling at him in reassurance. Victor squeezed back and grinned before letting go and pulling away so they could reach their starting positions on opposite sides of the ice. The crowd was quiet with anticipation, not a single sound could be heard. Yuuri's heart was hammering in his chest, against the small, cool piece of metal he'd stubbornly decided to hide inside his costume. And in came the piano and the violin.

"Yuuri, are you sure you want this? We don't have to do it for an audience, it can be just for ourselves."

"No, I… I want… I want the whole world to see… to feel this." He'd placed his palm above Victor's heart, and Victor reciprocated before he could take another breath. "And I want us to feel it out there, on that stage, where it all started."

He was all too aware of the fact that the choreography was incredibly simple and straightforward. Just two lost souls finding one another. Compared to Victor's exquisitely crafted stories that had layer after layer of symbolism and had people discussing and speculating for months on end, this was, well, rather basic. But as he glided backwards after his quad Salchow, arms spread wide, and let his body go limp to be caught in Victor's embrace, he decided he was okay with that. He wanted everyone to know, wanted to leave no door open for questions or doubts.

He turned around in Victor's arms and cupped his face in his hands.

His voice was tightly trapped inside his throat, but he mouthed the words nonetheless.

"I love you."

His arm circled around Victor's waist and he dipped him down. His stomach tightened with the effort, but his hand was steady on the small of Victor's back, holding him safe. Victor's leg was stretched long and beautiful, and his hand rose to touch Yuuri's cheek just before his lips mouthed back at him.

"I love you too."

The blush that spread over Yuuri's cheeks was beautiful, and it was all Victor could do to stop himself from pulling him down and kissing him. But Yuuri's chest pressing against his dug the piece of metal in his breast pocket onto his skin, and that grounded him. They still had half of the story to tell.

Letting go of Yuuri and pulling away from him was almost as heartbreaking as it had been that night in Helsinki, almost a year ago. He almost couldn't do it, almost fell for real on the broken triple axel. His heart thrummed with yearning, with the need to return into the arms where he belonged. His breathing faltered, but in the middle of a spin, he caught sight of Yuuri, how the sparkles of the costume contoured his body, how the dimmed lights marked the angles of his face, how beautiful he was in black and silver and blue, how he too, quivered as if he couldn't stand being apart for one more second, how he reached out to him at the end of his spin, hands beckoning Victor back home. They glided towards each other, meeting once more in the middle, hands over hearts. Yuuri's heart was racing with exhaustion and exhilaration. Victor knew his was too.

He didn't mind that the story seemed simple or obvious. Perhaps, he even liked it all the more for it. That it was obvious, that anyone who saw could tell what they were, how they felt. It made it even clearer that this was how things were meant to be from the start; that the obstacles they'd faced and the mistakes they'd made had only been minor set-backs because at the end of it all, they were always meant to find each other and never let go again.

Yuuri led them into a slow waltz around the edge of the ice and Victor's heart jumped when Yuuri made him spin in his hold.

"Are you sure you want me to lead? You're taller."

"Oh Yuuri, the best dance I've ever had was the time I let you sweep the floor with me in Sochi." Yuuri had spluttered, angrily grumbling about how 'no one would ever leave him alone about Sochi'. "Letting you lead back then was the best decision of my life; I wouldn't want it any other way now."

Their last turn took them back to the center of the rink, where Victor grabbed Yuuri's waist and lifted him off the ice, Yuuri's leg stretched in a half-split, both of their bodyweights spinning and held steady just with Victor's right foot ('Victor, you're not that much bigger than me, I don't think we should do a lift' 'Come on, Yuuri, just once, lifts are the best thing about pairs, it'll be the best finale'). When they stopped spinning, Victor's left toe-pick touched the ice to keep them balanced, his hold on Yuuri's waist tightening, his free hand once again finding Yuuri's racing heartbeat. And Yuuri touched Victor's heart too, while his other hand trickled over his neck until he had two fingers pressed softly to Victor's chin.

The music ended. Their faces were barely an inch apart, their heavy exhausted breaths mingled in the space between them. The crowd exploded in roaring cheers and ovations, flowers and poodle plushies raining from the stands to the ice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki!"

Still entranced in each other's eyes, they smiled.

"Oh my god, it's even more disgusting than I remember." Yuri whined in dismay.

Otabek glanced at him sideways. "I think it was beautiful."

Yuri glared back at him. "You can say that because you don't see them being gross all the time. Yuck."

Otabek smiled faintly and didn't say anything about the furious blush on Yuri's face or the not-yet-dry tear tracks on his cheeks.

After Victor finally put him down, they bowed to the euphoric audience, hands tightly laced together and raised above their heads. He could feel the endorphins flooding his bloodstream, every second stretching into eternity. It had been perfect beyond what Yuuri could have imagined, and his heart still seemed ready to burst out of his chest, overflowed with happiness and love. He wished he could freeze time in this precise moment, that this feeling of overwhelming joy would never end. The metal halo tingled against his flesh. Maybe he'd do it after all, throw away any meaningless promise he'd made to himself. He turned to look at Victor, and he'd never seen him smile so radiantly, nor had he ever loved him more than in this instant. Now was perfect. He couldn't have asked for a better time.

Just as he finished wrapping his mind around that determination, Victor tugged his own hand free and turned to face him.

Then he went down on one knee.

The crowd went quiet in an instant.

Yuuri swallowed his own heart.

Victor's sparkling eyes never left his, even as he reached inside his breast pocket and pulled something out of it. Small. Round. Golden.

"Yuuri, would you prepare miso soup for me every day from now on?"

"Huh?"

Victor's cheeks were pink. "I'd offer to do it myself but you know I'm terrible as can be in the kitchen." His gaze flickered away for a moment, as if suddenly self-conscious "Ah, but I'm willing to learn of course, it's not like I plan on dropping all the housework on you or anything, we'd distribute it equally, and you wouldn't have to cook every day, we could go out for dinner or order take out, obviously I—"

Yuuri's brain wasn't catching up to whatever was happening anymore.

"Victor, what?"

Victor furrowed his brows in confusion. "Did the internet lie to me again? I read everywhere that this was the customary way to propose marriage in Japan."

Finally remembering how to breathe, laughter bubbled from Yuuri's lips. "You're unbelievable" the euphoria from one moment ago made his laughter even louder "I mean, it's true, but that's so old-fashioned, no one says that these d—" And then his brain finally caught up "wait, did you just…?"

Victor smiled, soft, knowing. "I did."

"Oh my god."

Yuuri covered his mouth with his hand, tears welling up in his eyes. Victor's eyes widened at the sight and he shot back up to his feet, panic spreading over his features.

"Yuuri? Yuuri, love, what's wrong? Is it too soon? I know it's been… but I… You can say no if you want to, it's fine, we can take our time if you think we're not ready. We don't even have to get married at all, it's really okay, oh god, please don't cry Yu—"

Yuuri shut him with a finger to his lips. He was still crying copiously and his cheeks were a brilliant red.

"V-Victor just… just shut up for one second, oh my god." Oh this was so not how Yuuri had wanted this to go at all, he was getting too overwhelmed with emotions and Victor was too much and Yuuri loved him too much, everything was too much and now he was ruining this, and Victor was definitely going to get the wrong idea. "Victor, I… I was actually" he hiccupped, aware that he probably looked like madman, trying to wiggle his hand inside the collar of his skin-tight attire.

Victor's heart jumped to the base of his throat as he saw Yuuri's hand emerge from underneath the neckline of his costume…

"I was going to propose… to you… today…"

…holding a plain gold ring.

Victor suddenly realized he had no air left in his lungs.

"But I… I promised to myself that I'd only do it if I won the gold and then got nervous about it and fell during the free and then… then I decided I was actually going to do it right now because it felt like the perfect moment after all and I was just psyching myself up to do it but… oh god." He hid his face behind his palms. "I'm sorry, Victor, I should've just said 'yes', I completely ruined your already terrible proposal, I'm so—."

"Yuuri!"

This time it was Victor's turn to stop the panicked babbling by grabbing Yuuri's wrists and prying his hands away from his face, blue eyes following the glint of gold held in Yuuri's fingers, his breathing thin. Yuuri's teary brown eyes looked up at him, quivering and sparkling and the sight squeezed Victor's racing heart.

"Yuuri, propose to me." The words tasted like a prayer.

"Eh?"

"You can't say you were going to propose to me and then not do it. I'll be haunted for the rest of my life wondering what you would've said. Propose to me."

Yuuri sucked in a sharp inhale and stared at him in silence and time came to a complete halt. He was keenly aware of every inhale and exhale that came from Yuuri's nose, of the loud booming of his heart in his eardrums, of Yuuri's pulse point on the wrist he was holding. And because Victor knew Yuuri too well, he saw the exact moment those brown eyes shifted with determination.

"Victor, I…" he took a deep breath and pulled his hands free of Victor's grasp to lace their fingers together "remember what we promised after you came back?"

Victor smiled fondly, dragging the pads of his thumb over the side of Yuuri's hands. "I've made you many promises since then, love." He chuckled. "None that I don't intend to keep."

"We promised to be happy together."

"I do seem to recall that."

Yuuri smiled too, leaning forward until their foreheads touched.

"So let's be. For the rest of our lives." He pulled away again and raised the golden ring up to where Victor could see it. "Marry me."

Tears started flowing down Victor's cheeks. "Yes." He breathed, as if he had lived all of his life just waiting to say that one word. "Of course it's a yes." His heart felt ready to burst with joy. "Really, Yuuri must you always one-up me with the surprises?"

Yuuri tilted his head slightly, his eyes following the movements of Victor's hands sliding the ring down his finger. "I thought you liked a challenge."

"You know me too well."

He watched intently as Yuuri grabbed his hands, blue eyes fixed on how the gold sparkled on Yuuri's fair skin, how good it looked on him. Yuuri's hands trembled as they held his, a little jolt running up his spine as he wiggled the ring past Victor's knuckle. It fit him to perfection. It was still warm, probably from being tucked somewhere inside Yuuri's costume all night. Victor found that he loved the feeling of it. He stared at his own hand, at their intertwined hands wearing matching rings, enraptured by the thought of his ring on Yuuri's finger, of Yuuri's ring on his, of Yuuri asking for his hand in marriage, of the rest of his life being promised to Yuuri, of how even for something like this, they could be so wonderfully in synch.

And when he finally got out of his trance, Yuuri's nose was almost touching his and their lips met in what seemed like an afterthought, arms wrapping tight around each other.

The crowd roared.

They broke the kiss with a yelp, having forgotten where they were standing or how many people were watching. They exchanged sheepish smiles, cheeks tinted pink –a little bit from shame, a little bit from the cold- and Victor turned to the audience, raising their hands above their heads. He cupped his mouth with his free hand and yelled an exhilarated "He said yes!" his blue eyes shining like actual stars, and Yuuri wasn't sure if the crowd had actually heard that, but it seemed like they did because the cheers only turned louder.

As they glided towards the rink exit, Victor suddenly yelped, his shoulders stiff.

"Wait, what was that about my proposal being terrible?"

Yuuri laughed.

Yuuri was tackled to the ground the moment they stepped off the ice, and Victor almost toppled over with him by way of their interlaced hands, but the force of the tackle was such that it managed to pull them apart. Victor frowned at the loss until he found Phichit Chulanont –who swore he hadn't shared even half of his repertoire of shameful Detroit stories yet- squealing on top of Yuuri, rubbing their cheeks together and gushing on "Can you believe you had posters of him in our room and now you're getting married?!" Victor sighed and smiled. He could suffer lending his fiancé (Yuuri was his fiancé) over to his best friend for a bit, he figured.

A heavy arm was draped over his shoulders. "You really outdid yourself with that, old friend. Even knowing how much you're into the theatrics, I didn't see it coming." Chris's voice was deep and low, very close to his ear.

"You know I live for the surprises. What better way to make my last season unforgettable?" And yet, he thought fondly, Yuuri's always managing to surprise me even more.

Chris huffed a laugh. "I must say I never thought I'd see you settle down. What do you say we give it one last go, for old time's sake? Before you become a boring married man."

Victor laughed too. "You're a boring married man already, and your husband's watching over there."

"Oh, I'm sure he'd love to watch."

"Naughty." He tapped on Chris's hand over his shoulder to step away from the embrace and used Chris's bicep as leverage to lean down and put on his skate guards. "As tempting as that sounds, I'm afraid I have to decline. I'm a taken man now." He beamed showing the ring on his finger the moment he got back on his feet, the sight of it alone making his stomach flutter.

Chris cocked his hip to the side and raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Dear me, you're going to be the annoying one that flaunts their ring at any given opportunity."

Victor feigned offense, lightly pressing his hand over his chest "I have no idea of what you're talking about, but now that you mention rings…" he grinned, spun on one feet dramatically and extended his hand so it was at Chris's eye-level. "Did you see what Yuuri gave me?" he sang in delight, punctuating every word, and yes, definitely flaunted the golden band that he'd never get tired of seeing.

Chris rolled his eyes and swatted his hand away. "Okay, okay, congratulations. I'm glad you managed to work it out." He draped an arm around Victor's shoulders again and nudged him to look at Yuuri, who was now the center of attention of at least half a dozen people hugging him and congratulating him. Coach Celestino was actually crying and everything. "He's good for you."

"He really is." Victor nodded his agreement, his chest warming up at the sight of Yuuri's jovial smile. "He's much better for me than I am for him."

And yet I'm wearing his ring.

"Even if that might be true, it doesn't sound right when it's you saying it. Have some trust in his decisions."

Victor turned to look at his friend, mouth slightly agape, then back to the ring on his finger, and his heart skipped a beat.

"He did choose me…" he mused and the realization hit him anew and the whole world around him suddenly looked so much more bright and colorful because of it. He wondered how many more times would the universe come to a halt just by the thought of being bound to Yuuri for life.

"Exactly what I'm saying." Chris leaned a littler heavier against him. "And anyway, have you decided on a best man? Because I can throw you the best bachelor's party to match the best retirement season, you know? I can work the pole to spike things up."

Victor snorted. "As much as I appreciate your talents, I'm afraid I'm getting a bit too old for such wild entertainment."

"Oh? Are you sure about that? I could even get you that cute dancer from Sochi. You seemed to take a fancy to him, if I remember correctly. He wasn't as good as me, but he certainly had some great moves. Maybe I could even teach you a few tricks so you could get on the pole with him, I bet you'd enjoy that."

That was the last straw for Victor. His cheeks burned and he doubled over laughing, pulling Chris down with him. "Alright, alright, you win, you're hired." He wheezed, clutching at his stomach. "But please never mention that to Yuuri."

"Oh, don't worry, we'll just give him a little champagne and he'll forget the whole thing."

"Chris, no!"

Victor's arms wrapped around Yuuri's waist from the back the moment the door to their hotel room clicked close. "So? Am I getting my reward for winning now? We don't have any more competitions in two weeks."

Yuuri sighed, melting into the embrace, his stomach still tingling from the onslaught of emotions of the night. "Have something in mind?"

"Hmmm." Victor's nose tickled his neck. "Something nicer than the plastic medal?"

Yuuri smirked. "I'd say you're setting the bar too low." He placed his right hand on top of Victor's, just so he could see both of their rings. "But I just promised the rest of my life to you, so I'm not sure what else is there if that didn't satisfy you."

Victor stiffened behind him, his teeth grazing tender skin. "Oh, Yuuri, I could hardly ever demand anything else from you. I'm not even sure I'm deserving of such gift." He peppered wet kisses down Yuuri's neck, stopping to lave at the juncture of his shoulder, savoring the gasp it earned him. "But that doesn't mean I won't gratefully take anything you wish to give me." His voice was thick with promise.

Heat started coiling at the pit of Yuuri's stomach, and before he could even think about it he was grinding his hips back, dragging against the front of Victor's pants. Victor swallowed a groan.

"Eager, are we?" long fingers tugged the elastic waistline of his pants slightly down, just enough to let his hipbones peek out so they could be traced in tease.

"You're one to talk." Yuuri huffed, rolling his hips once more. Victor moaned at the friction. "We have to take the chances we have, right? We won't be able to… do anything when we're home."

That seemed to give Victor pause, and he finally unlatched his mouth from Yuuri's neck, craning his neck so their eyes met. "What do you mea—" Yuuri shot him a pointed look. One that was most definitely a genetic inheritance. "Oh." Whatever strength was keeping his body upright was sapped out in that instant, and he sagged against Yuuri's back, any obscene thought erased by mortification.

Yuuri sighed after a moment of quiet, his arm twisted backwards so his hand could card through Victor's soft hair, face buried in the crook of his neck. "We're going to have to move out, aren't we?"

Victor jolted slightly. "Your mom won't be happy about that."

"I think I speak for both of us when I say it's better to deal with that unhappiness than with… the other thing."

From the corner of his eye, he could see the crimson tint creeping up Victor's ear, and the laugh he breathed against his shoulder was above all things, nervous. "You're so right about that, love, so right."

There were actual people waiting for them at the airport. Minako-sensei almost ran them over when she jumped to hug them. The triplets were taking photos nonstop and squealing 'when's the wedding' 'let us see the rings!', and Yuko grabbed Yuuri by the shoulders and gushed about 'can you believe you used to have all those posters?" (even though she'd screeched the exact same thing over the phone some 20 hours ago, and Yuuri briefly considered introducing her to Phichit) before they were even allowed to say 'hello'.

They arrived at the inn to a raucous party to which apparently everyone in Hasetsu had been invited. Food and alcohol were flowing freely and his already inebriated father was stumbling around the tables singing "all on the house, my son's getting married!" His mother actually started crying when she spotted them and she hugged Victor so tight Yuuri had to pry her away when his face started turning a little bit blue. Even Mari hugged them both, although not as effusively.

Victor then got swept into the party rather quickly humoring every guest that offered him a cup of sake, which predictably caused him to mysteriously lose half of his clothes over the span of one hour before he draped himself over Yuuri's back and whined at him for not drinking too. Eventually he started mumbling something unintelligible of which the only words he could make out were "Yuuri's Eros" and "pole" and he rolled his eyes as he dragged Victor back into their room.

"Just so you know, if all you want is to watch me climb up a pole, you don't really have to get me drunk. I'd do it sober if you asked."

Victor perked up, his eyes wide and glittery with excitement. Yuuri almost regretted saying that, but he figured Victor was so drunk he'd forget about the offer in the morning.

(Victor, in fact, did not)

As expected, his mother was not in the slightest pleased to hear of their decision to move out. The way her face fell when Yuuri cut her off in the midst of an excited "we'll have to tear some walls down to make Yuuri's bedroom bigger" almost turned Victor to her side.

"I'm sorry, Mama, we'll come for dinner every day, I promise."

Yuuri had no idea of when exactly Victor had started calling his own mother like that, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"If it's about privacy we can soundproof the walls." She bargained, probably unaware of how she was making it all worse, and Yuuri cringed a little.

"It's not like we're moving right away, we won't have time to look into places until the season ends. And we're not going far or anything, Mom, we want to stay in Hasetsu. Victor's addicted to the onsen anyway."

"I am, I totally am!" Victor peeped, eyes shining like an excited child. That Victor had come to love his small and unremarkable hometown so much, warmed Yuuri's heart.

His mom puffed her cheeks. "If you're staying in Hasetsu why even move out? We could close off the second floor for you and it would be like having your own apartment without having to go anywhere."

"We're going to need more than the second floor when we start building a family, Mom."

The whole room went silent. His father gasped. Someone dropped something made of ceramics and it shattered on the wooden board. It took Yuuri a moment to realize what exactly he'd just said. His mother's eyes widened and a bright smile grew on her face as she pulled him into a crushing embrace. "Oh, Yuuri, I hadn't even thought… Are you two already-?"

"N-n-no!" Yuuri flailed, horrified. "We're not even married yet, it's-it's too soon to…" Oh god, he'd gone and done it again, gotten too far ahead of himself. Bought a ring before they even dated, promised grandchildren to his mother before they even married. He looked up at Victor in a bit of a panic, wondering if his tendency to rush into everything wouldn't be that last straw that would scare him away.

Victor's eyes, however, were big and sparkling with wonder. His cheeks glowed soft pink. Yuuri hadn't been exactly looking for an answer, but the softness of Victor's smile gave one to him anyway. "It's too soon to tell but we're… it's up for consideration. When the time is right."

"Yuuri, I wanna' skip Nationals."

Yuuri didn't look away from his game, only shifting his arm to a more comfortable position when Victor laid his head on his chest.

"You won't make the Olympic and Worlds teams if you skip." Was his nonchalant reply. Something he'd noticed since Victor came back was that two people sleeping in a small bedroom made the average temperature increase, which in turn made the room itself more cozy, and he'd find himself feeling drowsy the minute he slipped into bed, regardless of whatever intentions of clearing a new level or finishing a chapter in a book he may have had.

The lilt in Victor's voice indicated he was affected by the drowsiness too. "My federation loves me, they'd put me in the team even if I'd chosen to participate overnight."

"That would be unfair to Yurio and everyone else that has been working hard to dethrone you. I won't want to compete against you if you earn your spot through favoritism." The screen on his handheld console showed a 'Game Over' sign, so he exhaled in resignation and put it back on the nightstand, opting instead to let his now free hand to roam over Victor's soft hair.

"But Yuuri! I don't want to spend my birthday away from you!"

Yuuri sighed, leaning down into the pillows, the smell of Victor's shampoo filling his nostrils. "Me neither."

Victor sighed too, his fingers tracing a choreography over Yuuri's shirt, the choreography of his free program to be precise. "I hate that our Nationals overlap, I won't even be able to watch you live. Look what you've done to me, love, I never thought I'd feel upset about skating on my birthday."

Yuuri smiled in spite of himself, his heart stuttering. "I could come down with a sudden cold and skip the Nationals here, my spot is already guaranteed by the JSF regulations anyway."

"You know I'd never ask that of you. The younger kids idolize you, they'll be really motivated to see you there. And you have to show your pride as Japan's ace." Victor's breathe was turning slower, like he was struggling to stay awake. Yuuri had come to realize that he liked holding Victor like this, feeling his warm breathe against his chest, carding his fingers through soft silver locks.

"Well there you have it. We survived three weeks during the Grand Prix Series, we can make a few days." Victor's hand touched his cheek and nudged him to look down and meet his eyes before he leaned up to kiss him slowly, earning himself a gasp. "Besides" Yuuri managed, still slightly winded, "we'll have many more birthdays to celebrate together from now on."

"Should we wait until the season is over for the wedding? It'd be nice if the sakuras were in bloom for the ceremony."

Yuuri hummed, absentmindedly browsing through the flower catalogues Minako had bought for them. "Actually I'd been thinking… Milan will be our last time standing on the ice to compete so… I… I want us to be married when we do it. I want to be your husband for my last skate."

Victor blinked rapidly, his eyes sparkling with excitement and his whole face flushed beet red before launching himself at Yuuri, throwing his arms around his neck from behind. "Oh, Yuuri, I love that! Milan can be our honeymoon!"

"Have you thought about what you want to do after all this?"

The question came a little out of nowhere. Victor finished lacing his skates, and looked up at Yuuri, blinking in confusion. "To be happy with you. Hadn't we decided on that already?"

Yuuri blushed sweet pink "It's unfair to use that against me, you know?"

Without thinking much of it, Victor reached out to stroke Yuuri's cheek softly. "Well, we can always do ice shows. I've loved working on this season with you, and I'm sure we can come up with new things together." He couldn't remember feeling as thrilled about skating for an audience as he'd been with the programs he and Yuuri had created. "But it's not like we can do that all the time and I've also been thinking… when I was training you and Yurio for Onsen on Ice I realized I didn't really dislike it? I became your coach because you asked me to, but when I was doing it I thought it was really nice, exciting even, to see someone talented and help them find their true potential." He'd never given much thought to life post-retirement before, but on the rare occasion he had, the last thing he'd imagined was turning to coaching. The idea had never crossed his mind before Yuuri had slurred it at him in his drunken stupor in Sochi. Yet one more thing Yuuri had given him. "Or I could go into modeling, it'll catch on like wildfire."

Yuuri snorted "Victor, you won't be able to model in Japan, none of our clothes fit you."

"So you're saying I have to choose between a potentially successful career as an international supermodel or having your family's onsen at walking distance." He tapped his chin, in fake consideration "Hmmm… coaching it is!"

Yuuri cocked an eyebrow, curious "Do you think you can find good students all the way out here? Wouldn't you have better chances in Russia or the US?"

"I found you here." He said, matter-of-factly "Yuuri, what's with this negativity? You're a local hero, I'm sure half of the kids in the area would die to be your students. We can make Hasetsu the new Meca of figure skating! It'll be good for your parents' business too!"

"Wait, me? I'm getting into this coaching thing too?" Perhaps he should be more concerned about Victor's conviction on their ability to revitalize the town's economy, but for some reason he wasn't. Maybe it was just Victor's way of making everything sound easy and achievable.

"If you want to. I'm sure you could do it. You choreographed the best program of my career. And don't think I haven't seen you watching some of the kids taking lessons at Ice Castle, I know you can see the potential. The music you have in you, Yuuri, that's not something I can teach. We have created amazing things together, and I'd love to continue doing that."

Yuuri's eyes widened, his blush darkened, and he tilted his head to lean into Victor's hand, a smile curling his lips. "You know, that… doesn't sound bad at all."

It wasn't clear how the fight started, but it came to a frozen halt when Victor accused "You said my proposal was terrible!" to which Yuuri absurdly replied "I've had the ring since Barcelona!"

Yuuri wished he could catch the words in the air and swallow them back before they could reach Victor's ears, but it was too late. Whatever Victor had been mad about before (what were they mad about anyway?) he seemed to forget it, and the next time he spoke his voice was so quiet it sounded like it was made of glass.

"What… what do you mean?"

Yuuri had never intended to tell him. It was a stupid gripe, a petty lingering grudge that he'd been trying to bury in the deepest corner of his mind for months. He should have finished vanquishing it the moment he'd finally slid that ring on Victor's finger. But obviously he wasn't and he hated himself for that.

"It's not important."

"It sounds like it hurts you, it's got to be important."

"It really isn't."

"Yuuri, please."

Victor reached to touch Yuuri's shoulder, but he swatted his hand away and recoiled. He hated that Victor could so easily brush off whatever it was that he'd been angry about to show concern towards him. It made him feel even worse for holding on to this bitter resentment. Anxiety tightened around his heart, a voice in his head whispering 'this will be the last straw, when he hears how petty you are he's going to leave you, for good this time'. His vision turned blurry and the ground under his feet didn't feel steady anymore. He tried to shut that voice down, but no matter how many times he tried to tell himself 'Victor loves me, Victor chose me, Victor wants to marry me", the other voice would just get louder and louder and—

"Yuuri!" Victor's hands were firm on his shoulders, and the ground wasn't shifting under him anymore. "I'm right here. And I'm staying right here."

Through the cloud of voices, Yuuri allowed himself to feel awed because in such a short span of time, Victor seemed to have learned exactly what words he needed to hear, almost as if that misguided threat of abandonment in that parking lot in China had been but a nightmare.

(but it hadn't been a nightmare, just a bump on the road, and if they hadn't stumbled back then, they wouldn't be standing here right now, he realized).

He took a deep breathe.

"I bought the ring in Barcelona last year. You were out drinking with Chris and I went for a walk and just… somehow ended in a jewelry shop." Absentmindedly, his hand found Victor's and pulled it away from his shoulder to look at it, at the shine of gold over ivory skin. "I told myself it was just a thank you gift, that it didn't mean anything special." He rubbed the cold metal with his thumb. Except it wasn't cold because Victor wore it on his warm hand at all times. "How dumb. I knew from the start it was an engagement ring, but I didn't want to accept… And then I saw it on the receipt and it dawned on me that I'd just bought you an engagement ring. I couldn't really trick myself any longer after that and it didn't feel right to give it to you with such selfish intentions." He couldn't bring himself to look up at Victor's eyes, so he kept his gaze fixed on the ring, on the repetitive movement of his thumb going back and forth over it and the little tremors of Victor's hand. "But then the night before the free you told me you would stay by my side no matter what happened and I thought…" he shook his head. "No, maybe I realized about your feelings. And I decided I was going to give it to you after I won. N-not like an actual proposal just… like a promise." His eyes felt hot with tears. "After the awards ceremony you looked… your smile wasn't… yours, and I chickened out."

He heard Victor's sharp intake of breath and it made him flinch. "Then we came back home and I was trying to prepare myself to do it, waiting for an opportunity and then… then you…" he bit on his lip, the tears finally overflowing, and he was aware his grip on Victor's hand was too tight. "You told me you were going back to Russia, even though you'd promised to stay by my side, and I was so-" A part of him wanted to know what kind of expression Victor was wearing now, but another one was too afraid to look. "I'm sorry. I know it's stupid and petty. I gave you the ring and you accepted it and that's really all that should matter to me now, I—"

"I'm so sorry, Yuuri."

Eh?

He finally looked up at Victor, the broken sound of his voice pulling him out of his self-deprecating tirade. Victor's face was stricken with sorrow, tears streaming from his icy blue eyes. His hands were shivering in Yuuri's.

"I had no idea." He croaked. "Yuuri, I'm so sorry, I put you through—"

What?

"No! No, this isn't… this isn't about you!" he dropped Victor's hands to ball his into fists "I'm the one who's wrong, I'm the one who shouldn't still be so angry and vengeful over something that happened so long ago. I even… I finally gave you that ring but I'm still acting like a spiteful kid about it."

Victor released a shaky breath and wiped the tears off his face. "Yuuri, can I hold your hands?" he asked, as if they hadn't been doing just that until seconds ago, as if there was any chance he would get a 'no'.

Yuuri looked up in confusion, and it only grew when he saw the small, shaky smile on Victor's lips. Wasn't he mad? Why wasn't he mad? Why was he still mad about the 'your proposal was terrible' thing, a whole month after the fact, but seemed entirely unaffected by the knowledge that Yuuri had been holding a stupid grudge against him for a whole year?

"Yuuri, I've known what I was getting into since day one. I know that you're petty and insecure and a really sore loser, just like you know how I'm fickle and insensitive and shameless. And I also know that I hurt you and I'm still not done forgiving myself for it, so I understand that it's the same for you. Even if it's not ideal, I don't fault you for it, nor do I want to see you belittling your own feelings." The circular motions of Victor's thumbs over his knuckles calmed the racing of his heart. "Besides, didn't we decide that we'd fight through all of that? That no matter what came we'd pull through and be happy together? Isn't that what you said when you gave me this?" Yuuri nodded, cheeks pink. "Take your time to sort through your feelings. I intend to wear this ring for way longer than the time you kept it hidden in a drawer after all, so there's no need to rush it."

Yuuri's heart skipped a beat, and he hummed faintly before lacing his fingers with Victor's, bringing his right hand up to his face to place a kiss on the ring. "I'm sorry Victor. I'm sorry for bringing it up like that, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty or anything. And I'm sorry for saying your proposal was terrible. It… it was very confusing, but it also made me happy."

Victor huffed a chuckle "I'm sorry for making you wait so long. And I guess my proposal was kind of terrible. I don't even like miso soup."

Yuuri snorted. "Indeed you don't."

"Should've just said katsudon instead."

"Oh no, please no, that would've made it even weirder."

Victor inched closer, their foreheads almost touching. "Hmmm my love is so hard to please." Victor nuzzled his cheek until his warm breath was ghosting over Yuuri's ears, and his voice dipped, thick. "And if I'd said 'Please stay by my side and never leave.'?"

Yuuri felt himself blush and he wished his hands were free just so he could slap Victor's chest.

"I really hate it when you use my own words against me."

"Can you blame a man? They're really good words." Victor tilted his head slowly to find his mouth, and Yuuri met the kiss pliantly, soft and sweet and short.

When they pulled away, Victor was smiling. From up close, the wrinkles left on the tear-swollen skin around his eyes were very noticeable. Yuuri thought he would be the only man to ever learn of the number and shapes of the wrinkles in the corners of Victor's eyes. Petty and selfish as he was, he liked that thought.

By the time February rolled around, everyone in the Katsuki household plus a good handful of their regular customers had already gotten used to hearing a sudden:

"But Yuuri! Our wedding has to be—"

Immediately followed by:

"Victor, we don't need—"

At which point everyone knew not to approach the second floor because it was anyone's guess whether it would turn into a reasonable argument or blow up into a fight. Mari had started setting a betting pool, and if the Nishigori triplets were around, they'd live tweet to their followers asking them to try and guess what the reason was this time around.

Of course, everyone also knew that these spats were always condemned to end with a:

"I don't care what kind of wedding it is as long as the one I'm marrying is you."

And then everyone present would roll their eyes and go back to whatever they were doing before, and Yuuri would be utterly confused when he came back down to find her sister counting money with a smirk on her face.

Katsuki Yuuri took the gold at Pyeonchang, shattering whatever record Victor had left to his name, his performance rendering the universe mute in awe. The entire world prostrated at his feet, he crowned himself at the top, the brightest, most beautiful star on the sky, standing on the biggest stage there was.

Ice was a fleeting thing. Lines etched by blades quickly melted and disappeared, easily forgotten and overwritten. Victor Nikiforov was dead, but the man standing by his side had done the impossible and carved his name onto this forgetful surface permanently. And Victor –just Victor- was going to marry that man.

"The last performance of this exhibition will be a very special collaboration between Japan's Yuuri Katsuki and Russia's Victor Nikiforov, gold and silver medalists in the men's singles division at these Games."

"We were all truly surprised at the Grand Prix Final gala, when they first performed this program, weren't we?"

"Oh, certainly, that was completely unexpected, and that's before we mention the historic marriage proposal that capped it off. A lot of speculation had been going around about why both of them had chosen the same theme for this season, but now we know the reason."

"I'm sure the audience here feels as privileged as we do to be able to see this dreamlike love story between such talented performers unfold in front of our eyes."

The crowd wasn't bewildered this time when they stepped on the ice together, hand in hand, gold shining on their fingers, but Victor realized he enjoyed the feeling of anticipation he could feel from the audience, now that they knew what they were about to see. His eyes caught a sign that had two interlocked golden rings and the words "Congratulations" written in both Japanese and Russian and he sent a wink in their general direction. Maybe he'd ask to meet whoever was holding it to autograph it later, as a special service.

Before he let go of Yuuri's hand, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the ring on his fourth finger, his heart aflutter. The crowd screamed. Yuuri blushed and chastised him about his love for the dramatics, and Victor couldn't really deny it, basking in the public's joy and the red tint on Yuuri's cheeks.

It felt different to skate this program wearing Yuuri's ring on his finger. Like he was keenly aware of its presence at every moment. Like every note on the piano and every scratch of the violin vibrated louder. Like every move and thought and feeling in their story was even more intense. Like his heart was about to burst because he knew that, at the end of it all, he could embrace the man with whom he'd decided to share the rest of his life. His blood thrummed in his veins, excitement flooding his body, his legs had never felt lighter.

After they separated at the start of the second half, Victor's eyes were caught by Yuuri (in truth, they always were, but he tried to mellow down his yearnings when they skated, not wanting to interfere in their performance). Since he'd first seen the choreography, he'd thought there was something uniquely sorrowful about this part of the story, but he'd always attributed it to the fact that he could hardly think of a more painful moment in his life than the months after he'd let go of Yuuri, and he'd imagined that's what this part was for Yuuri too. But there was something else in Yuuri's moves, in his expression, something remorseful like a broken hope that seemed slightly different, sharper.

"I've had the ring since Barcelona."

Victor sucked in a breathe mid-spin and his legs faltered, bringing him to slip and fall on his side, to the audience's horrified gasp. Of course Yuuri's part of the story would be broken and angry and disappointed. Yuuri had known, even back then, that they were meant for a forever, and Victor had left him hanging. As he struggled to make the world stop spinning, his eyes found the ring, and the sight of it grounded him. He lifted his hand and kissed the ring, taking in months and months of Yuuri's frustration and confusion and disillusion. And when he looked back up, ready to embrace all that like he'd embraced everything else that Yuuri would give him, there was Yuuri, his legs stretched and back arched beautifully as he offered a hand at him, face tinted with concern. Victor took his hand and let himself be helped back on his feet. The music reached his ears again and he remembered where they were and what they were doing and he felt a shot of embarrassment.

"Yuuri I'm—"

The smile on Yuuri's face made him swallow his words. His hands in Yuuri's, he let himself be led to the center of the ice, still in a daze, but he quickly managed to recover and melt in a slow spinning embrace for their reunion.

Momentarily, Victor thought of how Yuuri had brought him back to his feet after he'd fallen to his lowest, and gently guided him back to where he was meant to be. And he decided this was fine too.

"Beka, come help me buy a fucking suit."

Otabek didn't question the need for a phone call when their hotel rooms were three doors apart. "Why do you need one? The one you wore at the Grand Prix banquet seemed fine."

"Those insufferable idiots want me to be the ring-bearer at their wedding, I need a stupid tux."

"I thought the ring bearer was supposed to be a child."

"Apparently the demon triplets are already gonna be flower girls or whatever and Japanese people don't make babies anymore for some reason so there are no other eligible kids in Hasetsu. They should just have their stupid dog do it."

"If you're so against it, you could always decline." Otabek, of course, knew otherwise, but he also thought it would be healthier if his friend could be more honest with himself about the things he wanted and the people he loved.

"And suffer Victor whining at me for the rest of my life? Pass."

Otabek smiled. "Fine. I'll meet you in the bike parking space in ten minutes."

There was a faint hum of acceptance, followed by an odd, nervous silence. Like Yuri had something else to say. So he waited.

"So like… are you coming with me or not?"

That caught him off guard. "I just said I'd meet you in-"

"No, not that, I mean… like… to the wedding. I-it's probably gonna be lame and everyone's gonna be acting all mushy and gross, but Victor likes throwing money out the window so the food at least's gotta be worth it."

His brow softened ever so slightly. "Sure."

"Oi, Katsudon, I heard from Yuko you're moving out after the wedding."

Yuuri blinked, not quite sure of where this was coming from. "Well, not really right after, we still have Worlds coming and we don't know how long it'll take to house-hunt, but yeah, that's the plan."

Yurio cocked his head, his eyebrows scrunched in a frown "But why would you do that, you have the onsen right there."

Still not entirely sure of where this was going, Yuuri was about to say that Yurio was still welcome to use the onsen whenever he wanted, but then Victor opened his mouth, and Yuuri was of half a mind to speak over him because he had the dreadful feeling that something along the lines of "for the sake of our sex life" was coming. He wasn't fast enough.

"There's not enough space here for when we have kids."

Yurio dropped his fork, bits of rice splattering everywhere, his green eyes going wide as saucers.

"Huh? Wait, kids?!"

Yuuri flailed, a part of him almost wishing Victor had said the thing about their sex life instead. "I-it's not like we're jumping to it right away it's jus—"

"I want to name the first one Yuri."

Now Yuuri felt almost as bewildered as Yurio looked.

"What?"

Victor's head tilted slightly, a heart-shaped smile taking over his face "Well, it's perfect right? It works both in Russian and Japanese, and it's gender-neutral."

Yuuri frowned. However enamoured he was with his fiancé's smile, someone had to be the voice of reason here.

"Victor, we're not adding yet another Yuri into this family."

There was a beat of silence…

…immediately followed by Victor's thunderous laughter and a roaring "I AM NOT PART OF THIS FUCKING FAMILY."

If asked, Katsuki Yuuri would say that never had he felt as such a ball of nerves as he had five minutes before his own wedding. Even as Phichit gushed about how beautiful everything looked, how good the suit fit him, how lucky Victor was (and Yuuri didn't understand why people kept telling him that when he was undoubtedly the lucky one), he couldn't help the shaking of his legs and hands. His ring was nowhere near him (they'd decided to keep the same rings instead of buying a new pair, so Yurio had both of them now), so he couldn't even look at it to ground himself. He was about to suggest that maybe they should postpone the wedding (or maybe even cancel it, the voices said, Victor isn't here with you, he obviously doesn't care) when Yuko came rushing in, beautiful in a flowery pink dress that matched the flush of her cheeks.

"Yuuri, you have to come and see this!" she squealed, ushering him towards the window where he could see the yard, the guests starting to pour into the area where the ceremony would be held. He noticed all eyes looking up to the end of the aisle and he followed their gaze to find the large sakura tree that last night had barely had the first buttons ready to blossom once the winter receded.

This morning it was in full bloom.

Yuuri gasped. "Th-that's impossible! It's not even spring yet!"

Phichit gasped too, suddenly appearing next to Yuuri. "Oh! It's a miracle! As expected of the power of love!"

The door flew open and Yurio stomped inside "Oi, Katsudon! You're late and the other idiot is getting insufferably impatient!"

Yuuri took in the sight of the pink sakura flowers against the clear winter sky and he smiled.

"Yeah, I'm ready now."

He found Victor already waiting for him at the bottom of the aisle, and his blue eyes brightened at the sight of him, red roses blooming on his cheeks. The smile on his lips warmed Yuuri's heart.

"Yuuri, I was—" his eyes roamed over Yuuri's figure and stopped at his chest, his brow furrowing. "Why are you wearing that necktie." He gasped, affronted.

Yuuri grinned as innocently as he could. "You were the one who said you didn't want to see what I was planning to wear before the ceremony."

"Because it's bad luck!"

Yuuri paid him no mind, letting his gaze wander down the aisle and up to the blossoming tree and he extended his hand at Victor as the music started, his grin never faltering. Victor sighed in defeat and grabbed his hand, their fingers trembling as they entwined into each other.

On this day with unexpected weather turnouts, Yuuri found a ridiculous Russian man in his family home (fully clothed, for a change), but this time, it was to interweave the rest of their lives together.

Victor had never understood why romance novels always ended in a wedding. With Yuuri's hand over his heart, the pounding of Yuuri's heartbeat under his palm, eyes sparkling brightly with hope and promises, all he could think was how much more exciting everything would be from this point onwards, how they had so much life and love to look forward to, how this moment would be much better fit to be called a beginning. The warmth of Yuuri's lips on his seemed to indicate Yuuri thought so too.

Yuri Plisetsky absolutely, definitely did not cry during that horrible disgusting wedding. His eyes were not stinging and red when he reached the altar carrying their stupid, stupid rings and his fingers didn't quiver when they each reached for one, smiling at him and muttering a 'thank you, Yurio'. Not a single tear slid down his cheeks as he heard them speak their insufferably cheesy vows. Fur sure, he didn't sob a little when they kissed.

Otabek grabbed Yuri's hand without asking, and didn't say anything about how he still had the eyes of a soldier, however wet and swollen they could be.

On the ice, representing Japan: Yuuri Katsuki!

Yuuri took a deep breath. This was it. His last competition skate. His hands trembled on the edge of the rink barrier. It was almost funny, he'd been so convinced about retiring barely a year ago, but now he felt reluctant. Maybe a small part of him wished he could stretch this thrill, this excitement of sharing the ice with Victor, of showing their love to the world through his skating. A shiver climbed up his spine, nervous goosebumps blooming on his skin.

Large hands laid over his, warm and soothing. Yuuri looked up to meet Victor's glacial blue eyes, so incredibly tender. He waited for Victor to say something (prayed that it wouldn't be something awful, Victor sometimes had a terrible idea of what constituted good encouragement). But nothing came. Victor just rubbed the back of Yuuri's hand with his thumb and smiled fondly, tilting his head slightly, the fringe over his left eye fluttering with the movement. Yuuri briefly thought it was unfair to be so beautiful.

In a moment of boldness, he leaned in to peck Victor's lips softly, and his heart stuttered. He could vaguely hear the crowd screeching and camera shutters going off around them. When he pulled back, Victor's eyes were wide and his cheeks, his ears and the tip of his nose were colored red. Yuuri smiled.

"For good luck." He said and his body felt lighter.

"Oh? That's unfair, I won't get one before my skate."

"Do well and I'll give you one afterwards."

He glided to the center of the ice and shut off all sound outside of the violin, the rich song of the strings coursing through his body like the blood in his veins and guiding his every move, his heart full to the brim with the love Victor had poured into this choreography, and wishing above all things to be able to give all that love back.

Victor had told him many times that he could see music coming from his body when he skated, but if he were to be honest, Yuuri had never really felt that was the case. Throughout his career, he'd felt many different things when he skated: anxiety, thirst for victory, fear, love, so much love, but he'd never felt the music. Tonight though, he could almost see it, the melodies turning into colorful streaks of light that painted on the ice he skated, lighting up in his wake when he jumped, flowing from his fingertips as he spun. He'd always loved the ice, the sound of his blades, the biting cold against his skin, the flip of his heart in that fleeting moment when his feet left the ground, the thought that every step brought him closer to Victor (eyeing his ring, he thought he'd never quite expected to get this close, and yet…), but never had he felt this fulfilled, like so much happiness couldn't possibly fit in his body. Even without hearing the voices of the crowd, even not knowing where Victor was or what expression he had, he knew this was the most intense performance of his career, and he couldn't have dreamed of something better to make it his last.

"How do you feel about breaking your own World Record?"

"Are you still planning to retire after this?"

"You have practically guaranteed a victory, are you excited about it?"

"Do you think you have truly surpassed Victor now?"

Yuuri took a deep breathe. He had never really enjoyed being in the spotlight, hassled by camera flashes and questions he couldn't possibly answer. His heart was still racing in his chest, his limbs were on fire and between his poor eyesight and the buzz in his ears, he had no idea of what he'd actually scored, nor did he particularly care about it. He could have gotten zero points, it wouldn't take away from this feeling, as if his heart was ready to burst.

"On the ice: representing Russia, Victor Nikiforov!"

Yuuri stood up, his eyes immediately going for the rink

"Fogive my rudeness, I'll answer all your questions later. Right now I want to watch my husband's Free."

He wasn't sure if he'd actually said that out loud, but he didn't stop to check, dragging his body over as close as he could get to the rink. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted a "Davai!" Victor turned to look at him and winked before assuming his starting position, the first notes of the piano tinkling through the speakers.

This was the third time he got to see Victor's free program in person, but he knew, from the first moment, that Victor was feeling it as intensely as Yuuri had a few minutes ago. His moves flowed with the music like it was an extension of his own body and when he jumped it was as if he was flying. No matter how many times he watched him, the sight of Victor spinning in the air still made his heart leap. Yuuri felt a little melancholic, thinking this would be the last time he'd see Victor skate to this program; to feel, in the tingles on his skin, Victor's passionate love for the choreography Yuuri had given him. It was a gift and a dream to see something he'd created being executed with such power and elegance. The arch of Victor's body was absolutely exquisite and when he extended his long legs, Yuuri felt heat coiling in his gut, remembering all the kisses he'd laid up Victor's strong calves, the bend of his knee and toned flesh of his thighs.

He held his breath as Victor prepared for his final quad flip. From the first time Victor mastered that jump, Yuuri had loved watching him do it, how flawless his form was, how graceful his landings. Surely, even if other skaters tried to learn it, no one would be able to do it as beautifully as Victor Nikiforov. And yet, he of all people, Katsuki Yuuri, one of the dime-a-dozen JSF certified top figure skaters of Japan, had somehow jumped it and landed it over a year ago, as perhaps his first and boldest display of love towards the man he was now married to. It had come to mean so much to the two of them, that just the sight of it –still graceful, and beautiful and flawless- made Yuuri's eyes well up with tears.

As the piano mellowed to the final notes, Victor returned to the center and raised his arms above his head, then drew them down close to his face so his lips grazed the ring on his finger, further down until his hands touched his heart and finally extended both arms, not up to the sky or the cameras, but towards Yuuri, his face flushed with exhaustion yet bright with exhilaration.

Judging by the noise they were making, the crowd had completely lost their minds. Yuuri saw flowers raining down on the rink and Victor made a lap around it to pick a few bouquets and allow a fan to place a crown of red and blue roses on his head. He was about to head to the rink exit when something else was thrown in his path –Yuuri could hardly make out a blob that looked solid, a plushie maybe- and he bent down to pick it up, his face brightening with elation at whatever it was (maybe a Makkachin?) before finally turning towards the exit.

"Yuuri!" he beamed, gliding towards him, arms spread wide, and the next thing Yuuri knew, he was on top of Victor, his left hand throbbing under Victor's head, where he'd held him to keep him from hitting the ice too hard, and Victor looked winded, eyes wide, rose petals from the crown framing his face.

It took him a moment to realize he'd just tackled Victor to the ground.

He sat up immediately, briefly in panic. "Oh no, I'm sorry Victor, I don't know what I was- Does anything hurt? Are you okay?"

To his surprise, Victor laughed under him, eyes shimmering with mirth. "Did you like it that much?"

Heat rose to Yuuri's cheeks and he smiled, relieved, leaning down to press his forehead against Victor's, his hands cupping Victor's cheeks. "I loved it." He said truthfully, his heart thundering against his ribcage.

Victor tilted his head to the side, a playful grin growing on his lips "Hmmm, I seem to recall I was promised some sort of reward if I did a good job. What was it now?"

Yuuri grinned back and kissed him, intending to make it short and quick, but getting immediately wrapped in the warmth that spread on his body, the taste of Victor's pliant mouth, the vibrations of his needy whimpers. He felt, for a moment, that he might be spiraling down a path of no return, but he didn't care enough to stop.

"Are you for real?! Can you possibly try to not be so fucking disgusting for five minutes straight? The scores are coming out."

Yuuri yelped at the gruff sound of Yurio's strangely hoarse voice and immediately sat back up.

"Aww, I'm sorry Yurio, we can't help it! It's our honeymoon after all!" Victor peeped cheerfully as he too got himself off the ice, shaking off the ice shavings that had caught on his costume. Yurio grumbled something about "been like this a full fucking year" and Yuuri made a mental note to apologize later.

As they walked to the kiss & cry hand in hand, Yuuri noticed Victor was still holding the plushie from earlier, but he still couldn't make out what it was. It didn't look like Makkachin for sure.

"What is that?" he asked, squinting. The shape seemed humanoid and it had a lot of dark blue, with black on top.

Victor sat down in front of the scores screen and brought the plushie up to face level. "See it now? It's Yuuri! It's so adorable!" he beamed brightly, and sure, from this distance Yuuri could make out the shape and colors of the costume he'd worn for his Yuri on Ice of last year and the mop of black hair and brown eyes and Victor was going on and on about 'the attention to detail, look it's wearing a ring and it also had these glasses with Velcro and—" and Yuuri lost track of what he was saying because Victor had just gotten a new personal best and then Victor was squealing "Yuuri did you hear that? It's the program you made for me, it's all thanks to you!" and the next thing he knew Victor was kissing him hard and Yurio was screeching "IT HASN'T BEEN FIVE FUCKING MINUTES."

Victor's breathe was labored, his muscles screaming with exhaustion, and yet his heart was so overwhelmed with joy he almost didn't feel the pain. The arm that was holding Yuuri's waist and supporting the whole of his weight against Victor's body was starting to ache, but he couldn't bring himself to break away from the spell of Yuuri's eyes. Yuuri's fingers were soft on his chin, his breathing warm against Victor's face, his palm firm on Victor's chest and his heartbeat roaring and euphoric. The affection in Yuuri's eyes was almost palpable, even after they fluttered close. Yuuri's lips touched his, softly, whispering 'it was perfect' against his mouth. And as he slowly gave in to the muscular pain and let Yuuri's feet touch the ice again, he couldn't agree more. It had been perfect. The best performance of his career. The most amazing finale anyone could've ever hoped for.

Ah.

He felt breathless for a moment.

The most amazing finale was still a finale after all.

Sharp pain squeezed his heart all of a sudden as the realization hit him. This part of his life was over. This thing that had been his everything for 20 years, that had defined him and made him who he was, had culminated at last. His eyes went to the audience first, and saw many pairs of teary eyes and heard many voices screaming "Don't go! Don't go!" And he looked down at the ice and caught the blur of his reflection on the surface, and it felt like watching an old friend die.

His knees touched the ice before he even felt the tears stream down his cheeks. And for the first time in many, many years, he didn't mind that the cameras would catch his truly ugly crying face as he bowed as deep as he could go, his forehead touching the ground, crying broken 'thank yous' to the cold against his skin that had always felt like home, had always welcomed him like a father, a mother, a brother and a lover. And he sobbed his gratitude to the blades that had brought him here and given wings to his feet, to the coach that had picked him up every time he'd fallen and convinced him he was meant for grandeur, to his body that had miraculously held up till the last spin, to the people chanting his name, to fate's design that had made him walk this path however painful it was to reach its end, and most of all…

"Victor?"

He glanced up to meet big, warm brown eyes, glassy with tears, "Thank you." He whimpered again, to the man to whom he had promised the rest of his life, to the ice again, for letting him find him, for letting him find his home, his future, his family, his love and life in this man, and to whatever it was that allowed the beginning of a new chapter to entwine so perfectly with the conclusion of this one. When Yuuri pulled him back to his feet and brought him into a tight embrace, fingers clutching to each other's back for dear life, when they shuddered and sobbed in each other's arms, when the voices of the crowd changed to 'thank you' and 'congratulations' and 'good luck', when he cried and Yuuri cried, mourning the loss as much as they celebrated the new beginning, he knew he truly couldn't have ever hoped for a better finale.

That thought alone made his heart feel lighter, even as he whispered one last 'thank you', followed by a 'good bye'.

"Yurachka, I saw the photo on the paper, I'm very proud of you! You should come over to Moscow so we can celebrate, since I didn't see you for your birthday."

Yuri was looking at the photo too. He usually didn't buy the newspaper (why would he, he could read the news on his phone), but one of his neighbors had brought it over to him this morning, squealing excitedly about it, and Yuri had been left with no option but to accept it. The headline read "Passing the torch! National hero Victor Nikiforov wins silver at his last figure skating World Championship." Underneath that there was a tagline of "Young promise Yuri Plisetsky places bronze under also retiring gold medalist Yuuri Katsuki from Japan."

"I guess I can take the weekend off before training for next season starts. But don't try to make it a big party or anything, Grandpa, just the usual's fine."

His eyes roamed over the full-page article and the colored photo that capped it. Victor was on the left, winking, holding his silver medal with his right hand. Japanese Yuuri was standing next to him, on the center, also holding his gold medal with his right hand, chin hovering above Victor's shoulder, their heads almost touching. Yuri himself was standing to Yuuri's left, also showing his bronze medal high and proud because he'd gotten a new personal best in his combined score. Yuuri's arm was wrapped around his shoulder, because the photo luckily didn't capture the moment Katsudon had lost his mind and decided to ruffle Yuri's blond hair. The three of them were grinning, cheeks flushed and tear-red eyes sparkling.

But what really caught the eye in that photo was the way Victor and Yuuri held their medals, almost side by side to one another, silver touching gold. Except that the medals were barely even visible, almost entirely covered by each of their hands.

"Ugh, it's the medals you're supposed to show off, not your fucking rings."

After hanging up with his grandfather, he called the newspaper to request for a decent print of the photo to frame and hang next to pictures of Hasetsu's summer and an onsen wedding reception.

"Victor, wake up"

He groaned.

"It's getting late, come on."

He felt a jab to his shoulders and he opened his eyes to a pair of deep browns frowning at him. In spite of that, he found himself smiling.

"You're here." He breathed in awe, reaching to touch Yuuri's cheek with two fingers.

"Of course I am. Now get up, we're really going to be late."

He groaned again. "But Yuuri, it's Sunday! It's the official day to stay in bed after noon! I'm sure that's on the Constitution and everything!" he whined, clinging to his husband with his arms and legs, determined to convince him to sleep in.

"Not in Japan's." Yuuri replied nonchalantly, easily disentangling himself from Victor's limbs. "Besides, we promised we'd pick Yurio up at the airport."

The information clicked as true in Victor's mind, but that didn't help motivate him. "Yurio's 19, he's already considered an adult in Russia, he can take a train on his own." He tried to argue, though he had the nagging feeling this wasn't gonna work out in his favor.

He could already hear Yuuri's frustrated huff as he shuffled around the room, presumably for clothes. "Victor, we promised. Are you going to let him down again?"

"What better senior debut did he want than breaking a World Record? My world record, for that matter." Victor whined in frustration. He really just wanted to cuddle in bed with Yuuri, why was this so much to ask "The person who slept straight through the night should show more compassion towards the one who didn't."

"It was your turn, what did you want me to do about it?"

"To cut your senile husband some slack?"

"Victor, you're 31, you should apologize to the actual senior citizens of the world. My grandma still got up at sunrise to run the inn well into her seventies."

"Yours is a family of superhumans, though."

"Right. And you're my family too."

As usual, Yuuri always knew the exact words to blast all the air out of his lungs. Victor had married a truly savage man.

Yuuri sighed. The mattress dipped near the edge, and Victor finally unfurled from the covers to find his husband's warm brown eyes. "He's bringing a lot of luggage this time, he'll need help carrying it. And he's counting on us. Be nice, Victor, he's had a rough year. We promised him the best second debut in history."

After the reigning World and Grand Prix champions had retired, the world's expectations had fallen on the promising Yuri Plisetsky, who had medaled with both of them in their last competition and had already broken a world record, but the pressure had weighed heavier on his shoulders than anyone had expected, and a very late growth spurt had also gotten in the way. He'd barely scraped by to the Finals, twisted his ankle on a fall during his free program and ended last. The injury had luckily not been severe, but he hadn't been able to qualify for Worlds that year, and on his 18th birthday he announced he was taking a year off to make sure it healed completely. Adjusting to the hormonal and physical changes of his body had been hard, and even something as simple as finding his center of gravity had proved challenging. So last summer, when Yurio had come to visit (it was yet another one of those things that no one really knew when it became a thing, it just had), the three of them (plus Yakov, who refused to retire, on Skype) had a long, serious talk and there had been a lot of anger and frustration and some crying too, but they'd finally agreed that taking some down time to learn to use his body's new proportions was the best for him, that he shouldn't push himself too hard and that, when he was ready, they'd personally coach him to make his comeback even flashier and more amazing than the first one.

The night of that year's World Championship, Christophe Giacometti retired with a last silver medal, while JJ stood on top of the podium and Phichit barely a point behind, and Victor and Yuuri both received the same message on their phones.

"I'm ready."

Victor sighed and sat up. Yuuri's admonishment banished the haze of sleep from his mind, the memory of Yurio's angry tears and "why is my body doing this now?!" all too reminiscent of his own struggles to live up with the world's expectations while his body decided to grow in whatever direction and proportion it wanted.

"Alright, alright, I'll be a responsible adult for once."

Yuuri smiled and pressed a warm smooch to his forehead. "Good." He got up and trodded to the corner of the room. "Besides, Hana's really excited about seeing Yurioniichan again, right? That's why you wouldn't let Papa sleep at all last night." He cooed, peering into the crib.

Victor grunted as he slipped a pair of slacks on. "She doesn't even know him, she was two weeks old when he came for Christmas."

Yuuri leaned into the crib. "Yurioniichan makes a strong impression, doesn't he? And there's also Skype." He got back on his feet, a small bundle of flesh wrapped in his arms, the baby's round face and sparkling eyes peeking from over the blankets. "Tell Papa how you really like Yurioniichan." He cooed again, turning her to face Victor. She didn't say anything, obviously, but she squealed in apparent agreement, the corners of her icy blue eyes crinkling with excitement and her mouth curling into a heart-shaped smile.

Next one will be Yuuri's for sure! Victor swore to himself, pumping his fist in the air with determination, while also wondering if it was narcissistic to think the manifestations of his own genetics were unbearably adorable on his daughter.

By the time he was done getting dressed, Yuuri was already slipping his shoes in by the entrance, Hana strapped to his torso in a baby carrier, petting Makkachin's head affectionately and looking so amazingly domestic Victor might have melted on the spot.

"It's a long trip today and we'll have all of Yurio's luggage to carry, but we can go on a walk when we come back, okay? Take care of the house while we're gone."

Makkachin whined, nuzzling Yuuri's hand, then padded over to Victor, probably hoping his puppy eyes would be more effective on him.

"Sorry, buddy, you know I'm as good as you when it comes to contradicting Yuuri. It'll only be a few hours and then we'll go to the beach and you'll get to tackle Yurio all you want."

Hana was flapping her arms excitedly in the carrier, and Yuuri had to pat her legs gently to keep her from kicking too hard. Makkachin seemed to resign himself and plopped down on the wooden boards, where the sunlight kept the floor warm.

Victor glanced back at their home as he stepped out to the street, his eyes catching on the sign that read "Katsuki-Nikiforov". Victor would've been okay with just "Katsuki", but Yuuri had insisted ("I get it! You just want everyone who passes by to remember that you're the one who charmed Russia's most coveted bachelor" he'd said teasingly the day they'd nailed the sign to their outer wall, next to the doorbell, and to his surprise, Yuuri had just grinned). Victor loved looking at that sign.

"Victor, we're barely going to make it on time."

"I'm right behind you!"

"Ah, see, Yuuri? He didn't need our help, he can carry his luggage and play on his phone!" Victor whined accusingly as Yurio walked out the arrival gate pushing a luggage cart that had three suitcases and his cat's carrier with one hand, while he tapped on his phone with the other. Yuuri clearly paid him no mind and instead rushed to welcome Yurio in a tight hug.

Yurio stiffened in Yuuri's arms, his eyes widening in bewilderment "Get off-! Wha-?! No! I just… I promised to text Beka when I landed." He probably hadn't even realized he was returning Yuuri's hug at that point, which Victor would've usually pointed out, but Yurio had also not realized the high quality material he'd just given him and Victor Nikiforov was not a man to pass up on great opportunities.

"Oh, Beka, is it? That's sweet! Does he also call you 'Yura'?" he smirked devilishly "Isn't young love adorable, Yuuri? Our little Yurio's all grown up!"

Much as expected, Yurio's whole face turned bright red, his nostrils flaring.

"What the fuck, no! We're not… Be –Otabek's not… It's not like… that." His voice turned quieter towards the end, and he pretended to busy himself unlodging his luggage with Yuuri's help just so he could hide his embarrassment. "Why are the two of you even here, don't you have kids to teach? I thought you were taking the demon triplets to Novices."

"Don't try to change the subject, Yurio, you know very well we don't hold practice on Sundays. Let's get back to how it's not like that at all, yes? He just wanted you to text him at… what time is it in Almaty? Four in the morning? Is he texting back? I bet he is." The scarlet blush had spread all the way to the tips of Yurio's ears. "You should've brought him over so we could evaluate whether he meets our standards!" it was really all he could do to contain his laughter, even as Yuuri made him carry the largest suitcase

"Victor, don't tease." He chastised, walking through the gates into the train station. "Don't mind him, Yurio, Otabek's a good guy, you can tell us when you're ready." They fit the suitcases by the train's doors, right behind a group of four seats that faced each other. "Ah, but it would be nice if you invited him over some time, maybe he can come for the summer? Victor's thinking of doing a summer camp, you could train together."

"STOP TALKING LIKE YOU'RE MY PARENTS IT'S GROSS."

For inexplicable reasons, Yurio's lash out made Hana chirp with delight in Yuuri's arms, and that in turn made Yurio's scowl soften so fast, Victor almost got whiplash from looking at his face. He sucked in a breath and felt his face grow warm.

Yurio leaned forward and poked the baby's cheek with his finger. "You poor little monster, you're gonna grow up with the most insufferable and embarrassing parents in the entire world." He cooed, actually cooed, a smile on his lips, and Hana garbled incomprehensible syllables, reaching at Yurio with her tiny hands.

"You'll want to be careful, she's a merciless hair-puller." Yuuri warned, smiling affectionately and nuzzling the top of the baby's head.

Yurio snorted and pushed his long golden ponytail behind his shoulder, letting Hana's small hand curl around one of his fingers instead.

The train was passing by the sea, the glare of the sun blinding Victor for a moment. He could see the coastline from afar, boats floating on the harbor, and the distant silhouettes of the seagulls on the sky. He couldn't hear their cries from inside the train, but the vision was soothing and evocative enough.

"Oi, Victor, are you starting to lose your hearing too, geezer?"

Victor turned away from the window, too dazed to even get upset. His eyes trailed from Yurio's mocking face, to Hana who was doing her mightiest effort to test her brand new tooth on Yurio's finger and finally to Yuuri, his warm eyes gleaming tenderly as he offered their child a chewing toy in replacement of the Russian finger she'd been forced to release and ran his hands over her tuft of silver hair. Yuuri looked up then and met Victor's eyes, the morning sunlight kissing his skin and he smiled. Victor smiled back at him, his heart full to the brim with love.

"I was just thinking I'm definitely inviting this Otabek guy to the summer camp after all. His style is quite exotic and I'm sure you wouldn't be so rude to your parents if he were around." He finally replied playfully, his hand curling around Yuuri's, over Hana's belly. "He seemed to really like katsudon at the wedding, so that's already a point in his favor."

Yurio screeched. Yuuri chuckled. Hana squealed, wanting to join in the ruckus. And Victor laughed because he knew, even after all these years, that it was still too much. But Victor was a greedy man, and he wouldn't have done with anything less.

The end

Given how obscenely long this chapter is, I have correspondingly obscenely long thoughts and comments. Post-fact parenthesis mean they were added after watching episode 12 while the preceding note and the scene it's about were written before.

-The first question you might ask yourself is "did I just read 19 thousand words of self-indulgent and mostly unnecessary fanservice?" and the answer is yes.

-Did I go too far in making them act disgustingly in love at all times? Probably also yes.

-At times I feel I sacrificed a lot of passion and sensuality that is inherent to their relationship, but I wanted to focus on their intense emotions and the way they connect them to their skating. Honestly just bury me in Victor and Yuuri writing love letters to each other on the ice.

-This chapter is the one that underwent the most changes during my planning/writing process because initially I thought the pair skating would be an exhibition in Hasetsu, but then I thought I wanted them to share the podium and also proclaim their love to the whole world, so the proposal was going to be in Pyeongchang –esp because the Rio Olympics saw quite a few marriage proposals for LGBT+ athletes and I wanted to honor that-, but then I thought it would make way more sense for them to propose at the GPF because it's so meaningful for them. I also made a lot of changes in who medaled what in each event because I wanted Victor to get one last gold, but I also wanted Yuuri to get an Olympic gold, but I also wanted Chris to share one last podium with Victor, but I also wanted Yurio to share a podium with his parents, but I also etc etc. An early stage of planning also involved Yurio staying in Hasetsu and having them both coach him while also competing, but that would make it too convoluted and surpass my own limits of how much I can bend realism to suit my tastes. (post-fact: obviously Kubo was way more willing than I was to bend reality)

-Apparently Skate America is always the first GPS event (at least I checked the calendar for the last three years and it was), but I absolutely wanted to use S.A. or S.C and basically any event that wasn't Cup of China so that the transportation times would make it impossible for them to coincide in Hasetsu before they finished their events, and I also wanted their first events to be in each other's country, so I shuffled the order to my convenience as usual. Even then I know I'm stretching believability with them taking 5 days per event.

-The FS they choreographed for each other had the same base tech score, so the one who did the best interpretation i.e. got the best PCS would be the one to win assuming they landed all their jumps and spins. Victor probably offered to lower his own technicals since he's a more proficient jumper, but Yuuri wouldn't have it. (post-fact: at first I thought this would be stretching believability since Victor has 4Lz and ostensibly 4Lo while Yuuri doesn't, but in ep 12 Yuuri alters his FS to match Victor's Stammi Vicino in base technical score so…)

-It is apparently not entirely unheard of for figure skaters that already have some prestige to their name to compete without a coach, but it's super rare. Due to both of their reputations it apparently wouldn't be impossible, just very weird. But I thought it would add unnecessary complication to give them coaches (or to send them back to Celestino and Yakov (post-fact: once again, Kubo was one step ahead of me)) because I wanted them to stay together in Hasetsu to train. It's also not unheard of for competing skaters to also choreograph someone else's program, but also kinda rare.

-Did I mention that Piano & Violin metaphors in regards to Victuri are very important to me because if you read that in last chapter's notes and thought I wouldn't have them skate to each other's instrument you were WRONG.

-Do not ask me to what songs they were skating to. They were specially commissioned (like Stammi Vicino and Yuri on Ice) therefore they don't exist in this world (aka I don't know jackshit about music)

-Also do not ask me about their SPs I already struggled to dance around the subjects of their other choreographies with minimum details. I'm not a choreographer and I fail miserably at trying to describe people moving, please have mercy.

-Victor did earn himself a lifetime subscription to the Katsuki Yuuri leg massage experience. A+++ would totally skate a Spartan program again.

-Although this is set to take place in the 2017-18 season (bc I wanted Yuuri to earn an Olympic gold), I still chose Marseille for the GPF because Barcelone was the host in both the canon and real life's previous season.

-The ISU is "the international sport federation administering Ice Skating sports throughout the world", but in Yuri on Ice it's called ISO.

-This year was my first time watching the real GPF and those medals were ugly af. They looked like paper from afar and plastic from up close. Idk guys is this like a normal thing? Is that considered proper medal aesthetic? Cos that was fugly.

-No, no one will ever leave Yuuri alone about Sochi, save Katsuki Yuuri 2k17

-Apparently asking a woman's hand in marriage by way of asking her to be your servant housewife is still a thing in Japan. I personally think it's kinda gross, but for the purpose of Victor's weeabooness, I had to use it.

-I had originally planned a scene in which Yuuri wasn't sure of whether to place the ring on Victor's left or right hand, since Russians seem to favor the right (in this first draft Yuuri got his on the left) and they ended choosing the right so that they could more easily lace their ring hands together, but since now we got canon rings and they both wear it on the right I wasn't gonna contradict it.

-Way too many people are tackled to the ground in this chapter. Oops.

-Victor Nikiforov would be a horrible whiny groomzilla. I don't make the rules, that's just how it is

-Chris's wedding gift was a dancing pole. Victor was extremely grateful.

-Me? Obsessed with wedding scenes with blooming sakuras in the background? Never

-If you're going to ask "how come Yuuri couldn't see what the plushie was from a close distance but he could make out the sparkle in Victor's eyes even though they were meters apart?" the answer is a shruggy and the power of love.

-I cried a lot writing the scene after their last gala.

-Yurio and Otabek were kind of a yes-but-no thing since the Victuri wedding (probably went on a lot of dates that were never explicitly called dates, maybe held hands more often than Yurio wants to admit, maybe a couple of goodbye kisses on the cheek or forehead, probably one accidental on the mouth that they never talked about again), but they only made it official after Yurio came back from Hasetsu last summer.

-Even though he placed silver at Worlds, Chris did win his first gold at that year's GPF and that gave him the closure he needed to retire without regrets. I wanted to mention this somewhere but couldn't find a good place for it.

-I have been haunted by the idea that they would name their first child Hana for Hanarezu ni soba ni ite. (post-fact: this was even before episode 12 jfc) Because Victor is a weeaboo he wanted to give her fancy and unusual kanji so they went with 羽愛 (wings+love, whereas that name is most commonly written with the kanji for flower). She also probably has a Russian patronymic too, so assuming my Google-fu's not broken, she'd be Hana Victorovna Katsuki-Nikiforova. I hyphenated the last names because there was no one there to stop me (don't ask me how that's gonna fly in the Japanese registry that only takes one surname lalalala). She usually goes by Hana Katsuki, but Victor is all too happy to throw out the full name when he scolds her (as a person with a Very Long NameTM let me tell you parents love to do this shit to make you feel you're about to die)

-Hana was born on the second week of December, at a scarily perfect middle-point between her parents' birthdays, which also happened to coincide with the dates of the GPF.

-You'll have to pry "Yurio spends his summers in Hasetsu" away from my cold dead hands.

-Yurio claims he doesn't protest to Yurioniichan because it can be either broken as Yurio-niichan or Yuri-oniichan, but the truth is he's a softy. When Hana starts talking and calls him that, he legit melts. Yurio hates himself for being so weak.

-Otabek does come to Hasetsu for the summer and Yurio regrets all of his life choices.

-In case I have failed as a writer and you were wondering what's the theme they chose for their last season, look no further than the title. I think it would've looked stupid in text but now I'm also anxious about it not being clear enough.

Sorry for this obscenely long chapter and obscenely long notes. Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday to the most ridiculous Russian man, may you live a long and happy life with your sexy katsudon husband and may your hairline not recede too far too soon. Hope y'all enjoyed this exercise in self-indulgence, and thanks for the support, I'm floored by all the lovely comments.