Put it out! Put it out!" Viktor yelled, hands flailing around the room in a panic. It was a week after the Grand Prix finals and the team were back in Russia. To thank their coaches, they had hoped to make a meal for Yakov and Lilia. However, it wasn't working out quite as the team had hoped. In fact, it was going rather far South. The pirozhkis had gone from burning to on fire a tad too fast for Mila's liking. Now she and Georgi (the 'responsible' ones) had to put them out.

"Yuri, step away from the flaming pirozhkis." Mila cried as she saw the tiny skater take a step toward them.

"Wow" Mila thought, "That is a sentence I never thought I would have to say."

"Yes!" Georgi cried. It seemed he had succeeded in putting the pirozhkis out. At least the salad looked good. Thankfully Viktor was making it, it was one of the few things he could actually make and make well…or rather it was, until Yuri distracted him and he accidentally added far too much salt. Suffice to say, Viktor hadn't noticed the little addition.

"Lilia, I'm sure the дети (children) are doing fine. How much trouble can they really get into?" Yakov said to his ex-wife. She didn't put enough faith in those kids.

"You don't think they'll try to make some grand gesture to thank us do you?" Lilia asked him as they walked down the winding streets of St Petersburg. Yakov stopped in the middle of the street as she introduced the alarming notion.

"дерьмо!" (shit) He exclaimed before running in the direction of the rink.

"There. Finished." Yuri and Georgi said, dusting their hands off gazing proudly at their…creation. Mila turned around and actually blanched. She could only gaze upon the blackened monstrosity that lay on a plate. Hearing her distress, Viktor turned around only to come face to face with a plate of destroyed beef stroganoff.

"What did you do to it?!" Viktor asked in blatant disgust.

"Hey," Yuri said putting his hands on his slim hips, "We didn't let it catch fire." At that moment, Mila's shashlik decided that, they too, wanted to spontaneously combust.

Yakov and Lilia sprinted towards Georgi's flat (it had the best kitchen and Viktor likes his kitchen in one piece). Bursting through the door they were greeted with a stressed group of figure skaters.

"Положить его! Дорогой Бог, выпусти это чудовище!"(Put it out! Dear God put that monstrosity out)

"Что ты думаешь я пытался сделать все это время!"(What do you think i've been trying to do this entire time!) Viktor screeched, baring a striking resemblance to a banshee. Yakov and Lilia could only gape and watch as Mila and Viktor put the second fire of the night out.

"дети calm down! Vitya, hand me the fire extinguisher, I don't want any of you to get hurt. All of you go and stand with Lilia." Yakov ordered, and the proceeded to douse the fire. Once it was out and Yakov's blood pressure had gone down.

"What were you four thinking? I think I just lost half of my hair! Well, why are none of you explaining to me what thehell that was?" He bellowed.

"We wanted to thank you. You do so much for us, we felt we should do something for you." Yuri answered, looking for all the world like the fifteen year old he was. Yakov's expression softened and he pulled his skater into a hug.

"You all meant well, but please, next time leave the cooking to me or a restaurant." They all nodded.

"Anyway, since none of this food is edible, let's all go out for dinner." Lilia suggested, smiling at the children she had begun to think of as her own children. At this suggestion, Viktor left into the air, Mila clapped and cheered, Yuri hugged Lilia's legs and Georgi exclaimed,

"None of you are ever getting within fifty feet of my kitchen ever again."