Fluffy, humor one-shot. Hope you enjoy :)

To say Viktor Nikiforov was having a bad day would be somewhat of an understatement. It had started with flying out to New York City for a promotional ad, contracted through one of his sponsors. Twenty four hours of smiling at a camera in an overly bright studio and reading cheesy lines later, the Russian skater was more than ready to head back to St. Petersburg where his dog and loving fiancé were waiting for him. His incredible, beautiful, most amazing person on Earth, fiancé.

Thinking about Yuuri was almost enough to curb Viktor's irritation at his current situation; however nothing could change the fact that his plane had been delayed for an hour, then two more after that, and only after a full six hours after the plane was supposed to take off were the passengers actually boarded. That was the moment Viktor had been informed due to a system error and overbooking he had lost his eat in first class and would have to be put in coach. He smiled politely at the desk worker as he took his new boarding pass wanting nothing more than to collapse and finally get some sleep.

Twelve hours later the plane finally touched down in the wintery scenery of his home country. As it was, Viktor hadn't been able to sleep a wink on the long flight. He had been crammed between two strangers, one of whom snored, and the child who seemed to enjoy periodically kicking his seat did nothing to help matters. Also, Viktor added ruefully to himself, there was no Yuuri to be used as a pillow.

The slow trickle out of the airport was a hazy blur. The next thing Viktor acknowledged was being in the backseat of a taxi with the driver asking for a destination. The address of his apartment was on the tip of the man's tongue before he changed his mind, instead uttering directions to the skating rink. While the large warm bed beckoned to him in his mind there was something, someone, Viktor wanted to see before all else.

By the time familiar gold lettering and double door entrance of his home rink was in view the Russian was struggling to keep his lids from drooping. He paid the cab hastily before haphazardly dragging his luggage and skating bag into the welcoming halls. The locker room was devoid of human life but the lights buzzed with comforting warmth.

Viktor set his suitcase against the wall, settling himself with a thud on the long bench. He had intended to put on his skates and visit Yuuri on the ice but the painted wood seemed to be enticing him with its sleek surface. The bench was the perfect length for him if he lay sideways. It was meant to be. If he just lied down for a few minutes…

Silver head hit the dark wood, blue eyes hidden behind pale lashes, gold skates lay forgotten under his slack arm.

When Yuri Plisetsky returned to the locker room, drenched in sweat but pleased with himself, he noticed the room was not as empty as he had left it. A lump occupied most of the bench in the middle of the room. Two suitcases were flung carelessly next to metal doors lining the wall. A half open skating bag lay next to the motionless figure with recognizable silver hair.

"Oi, Viktor!" Yurio projected loudly, his voice echoing off the small space. "You can't hog the damn bench." A guarded blade made contact with the short side of the bench vibrating the structure. "Get off your lazy ass and go skate!" He continued to scream at the older man. The only response he got was the displeased crunching of eyebrows and a nuzzle further into the hard timber. Feeling exasperation rise in his chest, the teen took a deep breath.

"This place isn't for sleeping moron! Get out and go home with your fat piggy if you're just gonna sleep!" A water bottle was thrown with startling accuracy right at the teen's golden head. Yurio dodged the plastic with cat-like reflexes but backed up a few steps none the less. "big baby" he muttered under his breath. Other than the assault by cylinder, the older skater hadn't changed his position one bit. Cursing fluently Yurio stomped over to the exit, poking his head out to do some more screaming.

"Yakov!" If he couldn't make the idiot move then perhaps their couch could. The partially bald, severe Russian entered the room with a grumble taking in the sleeping world champion and the very irate fifteen year old. Shaking his head the old man approached Viktor leaning over the prone form.

"If you're back from the States and have time to be lounging around here, than you have time to be practicing for Regionals." Yakov waited for a response but was sorely disappointed. "Vitya! Stop behaving like a child. If you really want to make a proper comeback you need to spend as many hours as you can improving your routine. Even you can't win if you stay on as Katsuki's coach and refuse to pour the rest of yourself into practice." The lecture continued with wild hand waving and impatient snorts punctuating it, but Viktor only hugged his skates closer curling around them to block out the assaulting noise.

The annoyed voices coming from the locker room floated to the practice rink drawing another curios skater. Mila poked her dark red head into the room

"What's all the fuss?" She asked walking up to stand next to Yuri. A skate guard came flying towards her. A lightning fast duck of her head was the only thing that saved the female figure skater. Right behind her a dark head also appeared from the door. Georgi opened his mouth to make a query but the other skate guard came flying with deadly precision. Not quite as fast as his rink mates the projectile made impact with the center of the man's forehead.

All three skaters and one coach backed up along the wall

"What a big baby." Yuri growled, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Mila and Georgi were sure if he was a cat his tail would be lashing violently.

"He's out of things to throw right?" Georgi asked still nursing the red mark on his pale skin.

"He could always throw his actual skates." Mila commented eyeing the heavy and sharp blade clutched in the man's grip. Yurio opened his mouth to make another biting comment but another head, dark haired sleeked back for practice, entered the now crowded room. No water bottles, skate guards, or any other object, was catapulted at the new intruder.

"What's going on?" A voice asked in English.

"Viktor's throwing a bit of a fit." Mila's tone was full of good cheer. Yurio wasn't as amused.

"Do something about him" He commanded.

Brown eyes moved from the four Russians to the curled form occupying the locker room bench. The Japanese man approached the man, letting the edges of his lips curl up. Yuuri stopped before the bench, looking down at the huddled form of his fiancé in mild amusement. Viktor was usually the early riser in their apartment. The foreign skater could recall only a handful of occasions when he had risen before the man lying in front of him. Those occasions were usually to take Makkachin for a morning jog or to surprise Viktor with breakfast in bed.

To see the older man curled on a locker room bench stubbornly keeping his eyes closed and refusing to wake for the world was rather endearing. He crouched down so he was eye level with Viktor taking in the silky strands obscuring his face and smooth lines defining a sharp jaw. Yuuri reached up to cup Viktor's cheek, rubbing small circles on the smooth skin, trying to coax the man into opening his eyes.

"Viktor, wake up." He whispered lightly. A small noise escaped the sleeping man's throat. His face turned upward slightly, leaning into Yuuri's gentle ministrations. The brunette chose to ignore the string of expletive filled phrases Yurio used to describe his stubborn senior, but the word 'biased' definitely filtered through. Sliding his fingers further up, letting them be guided by the natural curve of Viktor's jaw into his hairline, Yuuri stroked the smooth locks behind his lover's ear. He leaned down to place feather light kisses on both heavy lids. The silver lashes fluttered ever so slightly in response but remained doggedly closed.

"Come on love, you can't sleep here." He insisted, tapping Viktor lightly with his thumb behind his ear. Yuuri smiled as he was rewarded with a few bleary blinks. Sleep glazed cerulean eyes brightened immediately upon seeing the dark cinnamon of his lover.

"Yuuri~" The familiar lilt of his name drifted to the kneeling man's ear. "Em sleepy." Viktor slurred.

"I know." Yuuri sympathized leaning a little closer so the four observers couldn't hear his words.

He let his voice drop an octave almost brushing his lips against Viktor's ear. "You know I was going to give you a proper welcome home, but if you're too tired…"He let his sentence ghost into a silent breath. Viktor bolted up so quickly he nearly head-butted Yuuri on his way up. Startled the younger skater fell backwards onto the floor laughing lightly as the silver head shook comically fast.

"Not too tired." Viktor's lips were puckered in a slight pout. Yuuri grinned, brushing himself off as stood.

"Good. Then do a few laps with me around the rink." Viktor's smile dropped a fraction but Yuuri leaned in conspiratorially. "You know if you don't skate a bit right now Yakov's going to get his revenge tomorrow. Better do it on our terms now." Viktor's face lit back up in a signature megawatt grin.

"Has anyone told you, you can be truly devious when you want my little Katsudon?" Viktor took both Yuuri's hand in his own pressing a soft kiss to the gloved fingers.

"Oh! So we come in and you throw things at us, but this piggy comes in and it's all smiles and gross PDA." Viktor turned to look at his younger rink mate, a look of absolute innocence plastered on his face.

"Throw things at you? I would never do something so ungentlemanly."

"You…j-just a minute ago…" The Russian punk stuttered in indignation stomping his foot. "Don't tell me you already forgot you biased dimwit. It was literally five minutes ago!"

Yuuri laughed, finished lacing up Viktor's skates, and pulled his fiancé to his feet towards the rink.

Viktor had to admit, as he let himself be loosely led onto the ice by Yuuri's gentle grip, that he may just be the slightest bit biased.