AN: This is a birthday fic for Olympic Haruka, my sister, and occasional muse. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did. I will likely be adding bits to this, a collection of the Life of Vault Dweller Yuri.

"Home Sweet Home"

The outside world still gives Yuuri shivers. The never ending colors of death and decay as far as the eye can see. The little Pipboy he has on his arm casts a low green haze on everything. When his sister had left Vault 101, after their parents had died of something that she swore could have been healed on the outside, they had tried to arrest him. Him, who most other Vault Dwellers called chubby and harmless. This meant that he had to escape. He had to get away because the Overseer wasn't a kind man. He thought execution was a better solution than jail time. Which long story short, so very long, brought him here staring out into the desolate land he was forced to call home.

His parents when they were healthy and unencumbered by their Vault duties running the water purification chamber loved to tell him how their parent's parent's parents had traveled over from Japan to settle in America. They spoke mostly Japanese though they could also speak English. A way to remember those who are gone. That is what he was told. It's the only thing he has left to remember them, not counting the few things he had stored in the Vault-Tec storage unit.

A noise echoes behind him. A bottle rolling on the rotting wooden floor. He turns, his hand going to the pistol that has become a faithful companion. Thankfully, it's not a Raider or other unsavory inhabitant of the wasteland, instead, it's Viktor. The white blond male stands there, his rifle on his back. In another life, he could have been an ice skater. He moves with a command of grace and athleticism that is wasted as a scavenger. The man is staring at him with a look that Yuuri wants to claim is love but is too nervous to label as such. Yuuri turns back to the shattered out window, letting out a breath that could be a sigh.

Arms wrap around him, they can't call him chubby anymore, squeezing him to a firm but slim body. Ahead rests on top of his. No words are spoken. Not then. They stand there watching the vast wasteland.

"We will find her," Viktor promises giving him a gentle squeeze. His voice has a thick accent that Yuuri has slowly learned to decipher. It's better than the 'twang' of most of the scavengers he's met. Find her that has been his goal since he left. Find home. But as days turns to weeks turns to months Yuuri doubts he will ever find his sister, will ever find his home.

A soft kiss is pressed to his head, and the arms around his waist pull him away from the window.

"Come, sleep," Viktor murmurs.

"I don't want to," Yuuri whispers back. They don't have to be quiet, not really. They swept the perimeter and the mines that Yuuri has a slight knack for making are set out around the empty house they found. The bedroll they have set out looks as appealing as kissing a Deathclaw. Viktor forces him to lay down, kisses peppering Yuuri's face. The Vault Dweller is almost afraid his companion will leave him, will go stand guard because one can never be too careful. But Viktor sits down next to him allowing Yuuri to scoot over and lay his head on Viktor's lap. Slim, long fingers brush through his hair.

"Don't leave me."

"I won't."

He falls asleep to the sound of Viktor's breathing, the Russian descendant humming occasionally and slim work calloused hands running through his hair.

The humming of the generator greets his ears as he looks around the Vault. The lights are bright and he's sitting on his bed. His sister is sitting on his desk, a sly look on her face.

"When were you going to tell me?" she asks getting up and walking toward him. He drinks in the sight of her. The swish of her hair, the glide of her legs, the smirk on her face. It's getting so blurry the longer he goes without seeing her. She reaches out and ruffles his hair.

"Falling in love with Nikiforov and not letting me know. He's the Vault's favorite after all."

"S-shut up," he grumbles swiping at her hand. On his walls are posters of Viktor, not in ice skates this time but in proper dancing clothes.

"Mom wants him to come to dinner."

She walks toward the door. And a sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. He tries to reach out to her before she opens the steel door that transforms from a simple bedroom door to the Vault's door.

"Mari!" he wakes with a shout, sitting up gasping. Tears are running down his face as the dream warmth of his sister's hand fades away. He's tugged into an embrace, the unique stink of Viktor filling his nose. Close isn't close enough as Yuuri clutches at Viktor trying to melt into the older wastelander. No more sleep is gotten that night.

The sun beats down on them, neither of them the most awake. After his nightmare, could it even be counted as a nightmare, neither of them had felt comfortable sleeping. So now, because of him, they aren't at their best. Viktor walks with his rifle unholstered but lowered, prepared for anything. Yuuri follows behind, eyes flicking to his Pipboy to avoid running into any hostile forces. They're heading toward Grayditch, Yuuri had wanted to spend some time in the wilds just in case Mari hadn't gone for a settlement. If she was out there she was either dead or far better at hiding than they were at finding.

He's about to ask if they can take a break when something pops up on his Pipboy. It's not hostile but it puts them both on edge. They close in Yuuri ready to cover Viktor should they needed. The blip turns out to be two and Yuuri smiles at the furry looking dogs that are sitting down in front of them. Their fur is matted and mud covered but they are clearly domesticated dogs.

"Poodles," Viktor guess when he gets closer to them. The dogs soak up his attention, "Had owners."

That catches Yuuri's attention and he gets closer to the newcomers. One could almost be mistaken for a puppy, its ears floppy and face sweet looking. Sure enough, deep in the mess that is their fur is a collar. Their ribs are showing and Yuuri can feel them when he runs his hands over them. He looks over at Viktor.

"It would be cruel to leave them…"

"Well… we don't have to worry about running out of food. You have a serious knack for finding… we could see if they will follow us."

Yuuri flushes at the mention of his habit of finding edible food. With the small poodle pup that Yuuri names Vicchan in his arms Yuuri comes to realize that he may never find his old home but he is certainly making his own with Viktor.

"You can never come home again."