Why does the site keep removing the "at" symbol from the character's instagram handles?! I can't figure out how to keep it in!

I wrote this after a deep headcanon spiral with keilattes on Tumblr (amazing artist, go check her out). It was hilarious to me at 1AM, and still remains funny. Hope it makes some other people laugh too!

The text is bold shows the sticker count, in case that is hard to follow.

As in most things they did, chores had eventually become a competition between Yuuri and Victor. If one loaded the dishwasher, the other would race the trash out, trying to get back before the last dish hit the rack. Laundry day consisted of Yuuri's precise folds versus Victor's rapid fire hanging skills. Bets were placed on who could wash the windows faster and who could do a more thorough job scrubbing the bathroom. It was a good natured way to keep their place clean and they enjoyed working together to complete each chore.

Except vacuuming.

Neither of them particularly liked to vacuum in the first place, but when they realized Makkachin was terrified of the noise, it became even worse. Every time the demon machine would turn on, their fluffiest family member ran for the walk-in closet, only coming out after at least twenty minutes of bribery. Even when she did come out, she would be shaking and require lots of cuddles, which neither of them minded, but they hated scaring her in the first place.

Yuuri inquired as to how Victor didn't know that Makkachin was scared the vacuum, learning that Viktor had generally kept a maid prior to Yuuri moving in. Rolling his eyes, Yuuri suggested that they take turns walking Makka while the other vacuums. It seemed like an easy solution, until Victor kept finding ways to do the walking instead of the vacuuming. Three weeks of Victor's outlandish excuses as to why he had to be the one to walk Makkachin, and Yuuri had officially had it. So, he suggested a new way to decide who walks and who vacuums. A game he played with Mari when he was little, easy to explain and easy to execute. It was also a game that Yuuri was very, very good at.

It was exceedingly rare for Yuuri to lose at a game of rock, paper, scissors (RPS), and he used this talent to his advantage. Victor's adorable pout every time he dragged out the vacuum did nothing to dissuade Yuuri either. Walking with Makka, even in the cold Russian air, was far better than running the vacuum throughout the entirety of their apartment. Victory was sweet, every single time.

Once Yuuri had lost on purpose, when he had heard Victor muttering under his breath about finding a new game, not ready to give up his advantage in the fight. Victor had cheerfully bounded from their apartment, Makkachin nipping at his heels only to begin sending Yuuri a barrage of text messages.

"It is beautiful outside!" Dinged the first one, causing Yuuri to comically stick his tongue out at his phone.

A picture accompanied the second one, of Makkachin chasing birds. "Wish you were here!" read the text, making Yuuri roll his eyes.

"Are you ignoring me, Yuuri?" The amount of sad faced emojis which accompanied Victor's third text made Yuuri snort.

"Are you done yet?" He could hear Victor's whine in the words.

"I can't finish if you keep texting me!" Yuuri made sure to include a winking emoji so Victor would know he was being playful.

"It is your fault for texting me back!" Victor's text had multiple winky faces and a series of gold hearts. Yuuri turned his phone off and tossed it on the couch.

Twenty five minutes later, his insanely dramatic fiancé launched himself through the door and over Yuuri's lap on the couch. "You didn't respond to any of my messages! I thought you died and the vacuum sucked you up!"

Yuuri snorted into his tea. "I turned my phone off so I wouldn't be distracted! How would the vacuum suck me up anyway?" He patted Victor on his head, which was buried in Yuuri's lap, still snickering at his dramatic mess of a significant other.

It didn't take long for their best friend's to find out about their ongoing RPS competition. Phicit wrote an extensive entry on his blog, starting a score counter that he planned to regularly update. Chris' contribution to their game was more personal. A week after Victor had complained about Yuuri cheating, and Chris reassuring Victor that Yuuri couldn't possibly read minds, a package showed up addressed to "my favorite loveable idiots." Yuuri was convinced it was from Yurio, only slightly disappointed to find the card from Chris inside.

Carefully printed charts, with a row under Yuuri's name and a row under Victor's name, sat alongside a long roll of stickers. Gold medal stickers, to be exact. There was at least a hundred charts in the box and Yuuri took great care pinning the first one to the fridge while Victor called to yell at his best friend. Chuckling, Yuuri tucked the box above the fridge, with the sticker roll hanging next to their keys on the wall hooks.

Within two weeks, the chart is completely full on Yuuri's side, with a single sticker appearing as a lonely island on Victor's. Yurio stood in front of their fridge, scowling. "What the hell is this, you morons?" He shoved a thumb to the chart, glaring over his shoulder at Yuuri and Victor who were setting the table for dinner.

Victor mumbled under his breath, glowering at the table.

"What was that, babe?" Yuuri's grin was evil, as he poked Victor in the shoulder.

"Dumb chart," Victor muttered, voice filled with saltiness, "rock, paper, scissors. Dumb game." He put a fork down on the table a little too hard, and Yuuri wheezed with laughter.

Yurio shook his head, wondering why he even asked in the first place.

Yuuri: 10, Victor: 1

"Do we have to keep this thing up?" Victor's bottom lip is so far out that it is muffling his words. "It's not funny anymore." He scoffs his foot on the ground looking like a toddler instead of a fully grown man.

Pausing with the sticker roll in his hand, Yuuri cocks an eyebrow at his fiancé. "Would it be fun if you were winning?" He plucks a sticker off the roll, not immediately placing it on the chart.

"No," Victor reconsiders, "yes!" His indignation worsens as Yuuri laughs. "Can I have a kiss before you go?" Victor nuzzles into Yuuri's neck lifting his lips upward. Instead of lips, he is met with the glued side of a sticker.

"You said you wanted to kiss a gold medal, right?" Yuuri chortles as he grabs Makka's leash and waltzes out of the front door, seemingly very proud of his own joke.

Victor is still bitterly mumbling when Yuuri returns with ice cream in hand. "I can't believe you did that!" Victor shuts off the vacuum, softening only slightly as Yuuri places his ice cream on the table.

Settling himself on the couch, Yuuri tosses a look over his shoulder, "you bring it on yourself, really," he playfully retorts.

"I know!" Victor shouts as he winds the vacuum cord in aggressive strokes, trying to strangle the machine to death once and for all.

Yuuri: 34, Victor: 2

"It is very impressive that you returned to the skating season halfway through and still managed to place at the top of the podium."

Victor nodded along with the reporter, smiling as he watched over his head as Yuuri was being interviewed. His gold medal hung smugly on his chest, the silver one hanging brightly around Yuuri's. He had imagined them being on a podium as a couple, and was absolutely elated that they had won together. "Well, skating is like riding a bicycle for me. It was easier than I thought it would be to jump right back in to competition level." He smiled as Yuuri walked behind him.

"Hi, Dan," Yuuri greeted the reporter, linking his arm with Victor's. "Speaking of skills, did you ask Victor about his rock, paper, scissors skills?"

Victor violently chokes on his water as Yuuri laughingly kisses his cheek and walks away.

At home on the fridge, the score reads: Yuuri: 89, Victor: 2

When Victor has finally had enough of Yuuri and his chart, he yanks it off the fridge and tosses it in the trash can. Yuuri calmly replaces it with a new one, adding the running scores to the bottom as he always does. He turns to see Victor digging in a drawer, coming up with a triumphant look on his face and a deck of cards in his hand.

"How about we pick cards instead?" Victor suggests, sliding the cards from the box to shuffle them. "Highest walks Makkachin, lowest vacuums."

"Nah, that's ok," Yuuri bursts out laughing as the cards fly from Victor's hands onto the ground, "I like the system we have in place now." He saunters from the room, giggling to himself over Victor's frantic attempts to collect the playing cards from the floor.

Yuuri: 132, Victor: 2

The competition between Yuuri and Victor only became more heated as the season wound down and there were no longer outlets to exhaust that specific energy. They started finding ways to further compete at home, including upping their bets regarding their chores. Vacuuming remained the rock, paper, scissors fight, while other chores gained games of their own.

After one practice, they came flying into their apartment, bodies heated from practicing their pair skate and being far too close all afternoon. Victor threw his shoes on the ground, yanking Yuuri by the hand toward the bedroom. "Whoever comes first does the dishes for a week!"

"What?!" Yuuri squawked, readjusting quickly into Eros mode. Grabbing Victor, he tossed the larger man onto the bed. "You're on." He climbed onto him, stifling Victor's attempts to backtrack his bet with bruising kisses.

Gobsmacked, Yurio stood at the threshold of the apartment, "what the hell?!" he screamed. "Why do I ever agree to come here?!" Slamming the door, he sat in the hallway, shoving his headphones deep into his ears, cranking the volume all the way up. Furiously texting to Beka, he angrily typed, "I swear, if I had two bullets, and was stuck in a room with these idiots, JJ, and MY ENTIRE RABID FANBASE, I would shoot these idiots!"

"Victor and Yuuri?" Beka replied.

"ALWAYS!" Yurio typed back, dropping his phone when the sounds from inside the apartment invaded his ears.

Yuuri: 147, Victor: 2 plus one week of dishes

He deserves this revenge, Yurio tells himself as he stands in front of the fridge, roll of stickers in his hand. They had subjected him to enough grossness for a lifetime, and as far as he is concerned it is all Katsudon's fault. Victor was a know-it-all before Katsuki showed up, but this lovey dovey sickening Victor was much worse. Yurio tore the stickers from the strip, carefully placing one over each of Yuuri's on the obnoxious chart. Pleased with himself, he slips from the apartment, locking the door on his way out.

Yuuri: 148 silver medal stickers, Victor: 3 (still gold)

Reaching the apartment door first, Yuuri hurried inside, slipping off his muddy shoes and moving into the kitchen to refill his water bottle. The sight of the chart caught his eye, as his water bottle dropped into the sink with a loud clank.

"Are you alright?" Victor stepped into the kitchen, spotting the chart immediately. Wide-eyed and panicked, Victor exclaimed, "nope!" Turning on his heel, he fled the apartment, dragging Makkachin along behind him.

Yuuri yanked the chart off the shiny metal, immediately beginning to search for a hidden roll of silver medal stickers. If it was Victor's idea of a joke, it certainly wasn't a funny one.

It only took Victor a few minutes to reach Otabek, after Yurio had repeatedly rejected his calls. Bursting back into the apartment, Otabek's amused faced shining from the video call, Victor screeched, "tell my husband what your little friend did, Beka! He is going to divorce me if you don't!" Victor threw the phone at Yuuri, where it landed with a dull thud on his chest before sliding onto the ground. Yelping, Victor hid behind Makka, hoping that Yuuri wouldn't kill the dog to get to him.

"It was Yurio," Otabek's voice was its usual calm, although there was a hint of humor tinting it. "Revenge, I believe, for grossing him out."

Yuuri bent to retrieve the phone, hanging up before responding. He tossed it back on the couch with a meaningful look, placing the chart directly into the shredder. "Maybe we have had enough with the charts." Although some humor remained, it was clear that Yurio's stunt hadn't landed softly.

He couldn't help himself. Victor snapped a picture of Yuuri threading the chart into the whirring machine, immediately posting it to Instagram with the caption "Finally won this one, too!"

When Yuuri sees it, he responds "Vic: 4, Yuuri: 157." His comment gets forty likes within the first thirty seconds.

Victor responds with, "you're only as good as your last win y-katsuki," earning him thirty likes almost immediately.

Yakov promptly comments saying, "For the love of mother Russia, is this nonsense finally over?" His comment receives ten likes.

Yurio's comment proclaiming them to both be losers, gains him a lot of heat from their fans, whereas Beka's comment (which simply states "so no divorce?") gains an easy twenty three likes in the first few minutes.

Phicit's contribution is the favorite, suggesting that whoever's comment gets 200 likes first has to give the other a blow job that night. His comment reaches 200 likes within seconds, and he follows it up by saying he meant Victor and Yuuri. His third comment says, "I see you over there otabekonblades and yuri-plisetsky, check your adolescent desires!" (Yurio definitely throws his phone against a wall, swearing to kill Phicit and all of his hamsters).

"Heyyyyy y-katsuki and v-nikiforov those charts weren't cheap! How about charting gold medal sexual performances instead?" Chris' contribution to the IG thread earns him over five hundred likes and counting by the time Victor excitedly waves his phone in Yuuri's face.

" christophe-gc NO" was Yuuri's follow up, as Victor hung off of his upper half.

" christophe-gc YES! don't expect to get any more comments from us tonight!" Victor jumped over the back of the couch, snagging the box of charts and the gold stickers, tossing them dramatically on the bed.

When Yuuri refused to rise from the couch, crossing his arms to glare at his love, Victor crawled on his lap. "We shouldn't let Chris' very thoughtful gift go to waste." Bracing himself on his knees so as not to squish Yuuri, Victor kissed down the soft, albeit stubborn, neck of his husband. "Come on, make me earn that gold medal."

When Victor rolled his hips dangerously low on Yuuri's lap, the younger man looked up with an unaffected expression, although his lower half was telling a different story. "Are you telling me it takes a chart and some stickers to get you to put out to a gold medal level?" He kept himself from snickering at Victor's shocked expression.

Settling himself back onto Yuuri's lap, Victor bit at his ear, "whoever comes first, dishes for a week."

Victor: 4, Yuuri: 3 plus one week of dishes

"WHAT THE FRESH HELL IS THIS?!" Yurio stood looking at the closed door of Victor and Yuuri's bedroom. Taped to the door are multiple charts, all covered in a hodge podge of stickers. Where there was no longer room, stickers covered the door itself, along with the frame, and some of the surrounding wall.

"We may have gotten a little carried away," Yuuri chuckled, reaching over his shoulder to kiss Victor who was leaning into the sink to wash his hands.

Realization hit Yurio like a brick to the face. Gagging, he shoved his fingers in his eyes, trying to force the thoughts from his brain. "Free food is not worth this level of traumatization!" He stomped to the window seat, slamming down to fire off angry texts to Otabek.

Yuuri: 1,128, Victor: 1,294 plus one week of dishes and one week of bathroom scrubbing (don't ask)

Yakov is blissfully unaware of the continuing existence of the chart. Until the day that Yuuri skates onto the ice with gold medal stickers attached to each butt cheek. He slowly turns to see Mila and Victor giggling over Victor's phone. The coach stalks towards his skaters, moving slowly so as to not alert them of his approach. Over Victor's shoulder, he sees a close up picture of Yuuri Katsuki's butt, with a caption that reads "gold medal booty."

"Are you kidding me, Vitya?!" Yakov yells so loudly the entire rink stops moving, Victor's phone crashes to the ground. "Is this nonsense still going on? Does that boy even know he has stickers on his ass?" His arms are flying wildly, nearly knocking into Mila's head as she doubles over in laughter.

The youngest senior skater makes the mistake of retrieving Victor's phone from the ground, letting an inhuman screech escape his body as he sees Chris' comment telling Yuuri to be proud of his gold medal butt. "That's it!" Yurio flings Victor's phone directly at Victor's head before slamming himself down on a bench. "I can't do it! My virgin eyes and ears have had enough!" He yanks his skates off and throws them across the rink.

"Are you sure about the virgin part, Yurio?" Mila doesn't miss a beat, making the younger skater begin to scream again. She collapses against Victor as they both break into hysterics, watching Yurio run red-faced from the rink.

Victor is typing a response to Chris on IG when Yuuri reaches the side of the rink. (" christophe-gc that butt is MINE"). When Victor scrolls back up, Yuuri sees the picture, instantly spinning to collect the stickers off his pants, face burning with the heat of a thousand wildfires.

"I don't have enough hair left for this shit," Yakov has torn at his remaining strands, making some of it stand on end.

Leaving the ice quietly, not bothering to replace his guards, Yuuri gently places a gold medal sticker on Yakov's jacket, patting it lightly for effect. He jumps back when Victor starts clapping.

"Yay, Coach Yakov! Good job! You're a gold medal coach!" Victor is clapping his hands, speeding up slowly for dramatic effect. Mila and Georgi join in on the slow clap, while Yuuri retreats to the ice trying to hold back his laughter.

"Ai!" Lilia's sharp voice cuts through their antics. "Why do I have a crying ball of teenager chewing on his hair while rocking in the corner of my studio? What have these idiots done to the boy?" Her severe eyes pierce all of them and the skaters quiet. Zoning in on Yakov, she points to the sticker on his jacket. "What's this about?" Never one to be amused, Lilia speaks the question as if it is an accusation.

"Victor and Yuuri give each other gold stickers for excellent sexual performance!" Mila blurts out like a child telling a secret. She smartly covers her face with her hands to stifle her laugher.

With a raised eyebrow, Lilia moves toward Yakov, slowly removing the sticker from his jacket and ripping it in two. The entire skating team is on the ground, laughter ringing off of every wall in the rink.

"I quit," Yakov deadpanned, walking away from his team, throwing his clipboard at Victor as he passed. "Where the hell is Yurio? Anyone know how much therapy is going to cost?" He followed Lilia out of the rink to locate his scarred skater, never looking back.

There was no surprise that evening when Yakov barges into their apartment, confiscating all of their stickers and ripping the charts from the bedroom door. As he left they could hear him muttering in Russian, all threats that Victor would later translate to Yuuri in a fit of giggles.

Yuuri: Too many damn stickers to count, he has Olympic athlete stamina in bed, JFC

Victor: 3,259 (because damn it, he kept track and gave himself extras when his orgasms were video worthy – he works hard to look good, all the time!)