Title: all the stars in the sky
Summary: "How's my favourite skater today?" "Mm," Yuuri says before unhurriedly kissing Victor on the lips, "he's fine. How about my favourite skater?"
Pairing: Victor/Yuuri
Notes: Written for the YOI secret santa, reposting from ao3.

Their toes touch underneath the sheets, legs tangled, their bodies languid and relaxed against one another as sleep releases them from quiet dreams.

Yuuri never wakes up alone anymore. Sometimes, it's with the touch of a hand in his hair, or breath on his skin, and he'll sluggishly blink, drag his lips across the nearest available bare surface. He'll be able to feel Victor's lungs expand against his own body, some days his chest, other days against his cheek.

Victor will sleepily mutter Russian into his hair, or – if he's more awake – he'll practice his Japanese, borrowing phrases he's heard Hiroko call her husband (which never ceases to make Yuuri smile).

Occasionally, when they can afford to, they'll stay in bed a little while longer, enjoying each other's company, each other's bodies, with as much uninterrupted time as they can get.

(Makkachin isn't always appreciative, but they can live with that. (So can Makkachin.))

"Yuuri."

Before he can open his eyes, his face is slowly showered in soft kisses, and Victor says his name again. He wrinkles his nose a little, opens his eyes, and Victor appears clearly beside him, despite his lack of glasses. Some of the early morning sunlight has escaped the curtain, and there's a stretch of light crossing Victor's face, lighting up his eyes.

"Good morning," he quietly returns, the only other sound the noisy rumble of the dog still sleeping at the end of their bed. Victor carefully brushes some strands of hair across Yuuri's forehead, and delicately kisses him there as well.

Up close, he can almost see the passage of time in Victor's face, the years they've already spent together – and the many that are yet to come.

"How's my favourite skater today?"

"Mm," Yuuri says before unhurriedly kissing Victor on the lips, "he's fine. How about my favourite skater?"

"I hear he's collecting dust underneath your bed," Victor whispers, causing Yuuri to burst out into low-bellied laughter. He presses his face into the pillow, his body shaking, and when he looks up again Victor is smiling as well.

"You're so behind on the times. Didn't you hear? He got an upgrade, into my bed."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. Snuck his way right in, that one. Still don't understand how it happened." He smiles mischievously, and a second later Victor dives right on top of him – not, as he'd expected, to kiss him silly, but to tickle his exposed sides. "I give, I give!" he calls out after nearly a minute of Victor's attack, takes a moment to breathe, and then laughs again when Makkachin begins to lick his bare foot unexpectedly.

"I hear he might have had an incentive or two," Victor says, happily rolling over so they're side by side again, only scooting over a little more into Yuuri when Makkachin settles on his other side, so they're all squished together

"Rumours," Yuuri says with the straightest face he can manage now.

They hadn't planned to do anything today – it's a Sunday, and they like to use Sundays for sleeping in, and visiting Yuuri's family, and calling Yurio on Skype – or attempting to, at least, because he rarely answers, even on the weekends. The last time he did, he promised that he'd visit after the season was over. Worlds is coming up, and he needs all the time he can get to practice.

If Yuuri were still in this game, he would be preparing as well – but he'd formally retired last year, Victor still by his side, like he'd promised he would be. And he'd stayed.

Often, he feels like his heart overflows with love for this man. He earns it, ten times over and more, Yuuri thinks as he watches Victor fondly scratch Makkachin behind the ears. It's not always been easy, but Yuuri firmly believes it's that love exactly which has kept them afloat. He thinks he might fall a little more in love with him every day, every morning.

He twists onto his side and puts his head on Victor's shoulder, running a finger alongside his jawline. "Didn't shave yesterday?" he teasingly asks.

"I know how much you like doing it," Victor smugly says, and Yuuri briefly blushes. He can't grow a beard to save his life – and he's definitely tried. Victor was not impressed. (Neither was Yuuko, or Takeshi, or his mother.)

He knows that at some point this morning they'll trudge into the bathroom, where Victor will slather shaving cream on his face and Yuuri will very carefully run the blade across his skin. His hands are steadier than Victor's most days, so he's not very worried about nicking him. Not any more than Victor would accidentally cut himself, at least.

"You wouldn't let me if you didn't like it either." He knows Victor lets him get away with far too many things, simply because he's Yuuri and they're in love and Victor has a hard time saying no. Yuuri doesn't mind. He has the same problem, after all. (Although he had to draw the line at getting ten puppies.)

Victor's knowing smile tells him as much.

He yawns, slowly, and then presses another sloppy kiss to the side of Victor's throat, feeling Victor's arm tighten around him, pressing their bodies close together. They have all the time in the world today. Or rather, today their whole world consists of just this room, this apartment in Hasetsu, where the minutes pass ever so slowly.

Yuuri feels himself sink down into sleep once more, with Victor's heartbeat as his faithful companion.

He has no need to worry about anything. Not with Victor right beside him. He feels lips brush against the top of his head, against his hair, and smiles self-indulgently into Victor's skin. If he could wake and fall asleep like this for the rest of his days, he would be the richest man on earth.

But for now, they're simply Yuuri and Victor, and that's all he needs to find his way back to his dreams.