A/N: This story is post-canon and the exact time frame is left up to you. If you assume Viktor would retire at around 30 (as I did with this story) Yuri could feasibly be 16 or 18 for this story. Enjoy!

Yuuri was coming to St. Petersburg. Yuuri would be training under Viktor, who would be back under Yakov, which meant the three of them would be together again. Like Hasetsu without the warmth or the beauty or the love. Not that Yakov - and Lilia, and even Mila - didn't have a "unique" brand of love, but it lacked the warmth of Hasetsu's. That was all he could think about when he first heard of it, and it completely ruined him.

Every day waiting for Viktor and Yuuri to arrive was agony. Yuri's practices were miserable, the verbal beatdowns from Yakov even worse. He couldn't focus. He was happy to see Yuuri again. He was even kind of happy to see Viktor again, although he knew every time they held each other's stupid hands he'd get dizzy or angry or both. Maybe Yakov would make them cut back on the PDA, if he was lucky. Probably not. Yakov had a lot of bluster, but he really could be a pushover.

He hadn't spoken to Yuuri since his confession on the ice - if you could call it that - at the GPF. He knew he could never actually tell Yuuri how he felt. Still, he hoped that the occasionally thick-headed but ultimately perceptive little piggy could put the pieces together and find out exactly what that performance meant. Hopefully Yuuri wouldn't be weird about it if he had.

Their arrival came and went. Things didn't seem different, though Viktor seemed to think he could hug Yuri whenever he wanted now just because he had been caught off guard once in Barcelona. Struggling didn't work, so Yuri eventually learned to just play dead until the old man gave up. Yuuri didn't seem to have grasped the meaning of his "confession." Worse still, what if he had, and he had dismissed it out of hand?

Still, Yuuri looked beautiful with his hair longer. Yuri hated it.

Practices were better with Yuuri around. Yuri found every manner of excuse to break the two sickening lovebirds apart, just like he had in Hasetsu. Yakov was perfectly content with the PDA, knowing that Viktor and Yuuri skated better because of it, and that Yuri skated better sharing a rink with his rival. Between Yuuri's stamina and Yuri's stubbornness, they typically stayed on the ice longer than Viktor. When he went home, Yuri and Yuuri could be friends again, like they had on that cold Moscow night.

Viktor always invited Yuri over to "their" apartment. Yuuri always looked upset when he declined, though Viktor, as unflappable as ever, wasn't bothered. He asked almost every day. This year, on Yuri's birthday in the midst of nationals, they changed tactics: this time it was Yuuri's invitation, to come over after practice and eat homemade katsudon.

As if he could say no to those stupid eyes. Or to katsudon in general.

Viktor's apartment was as tiny and minimalist as ever. Yuri pretended not to know it was a one bedroom as he knelt with Viktor at the "kotatsu" or whatever the table thing was called, which was as warm and inviting as he remembered. However nice it was in Japan, it was a godsend in Russia. He could see Yuuri working away in the kitchen.

"I've missed training with both of you so much," Viktor said, seemingly in earnest, but who knew with him. "I just wish it could be in Hasetsu."

Yuri smiled, too, but kept it hidden. No one saw that smile but his grandpa. Maybe Yuuri, too, but certainly not Viktor. "I'll take a warm beach over frozen tundra any day," he confessed.

"You should come with us for the off-season, Yurio," came a cheerful voice from the kitchen. Yuri blushed deeply. "We'll be practicing at the ice castle by day and steaming In the baths by night. I know Yuko and her kids will be happy to see you. Mari too, although...yeah, I know that's...weird."

Viktor stared at him expectantly, that dim-witted smile on his face. Yuri looked away, covering his eyes with his hair. "Sure, whatever. Not like I want to spend my summer at Yakov's stupid camps."

"Yay!" Viktor shouted, throwing his arms up in the air and nearly upending the table. "It will be just like last year, except now Yurio doesn't hate us anymore."

"Don't make assumptions, old man," Yuri muttered.

Viktor just laughed. "Such an adorable kitten," he purred. Yuri ignored him.

Yuuri stepped out of the kitchen finally with a covered dish in his hands. His smile was as bright as ever, those traces of uncertainty his eyes held diminished if not entirely gone. He was happier than Yuri had ever seen him here, even in this miserable city. He set down the tray and removed the lid. Piroshki sat there expectantly. "Happy birthday, Yurio," Katsuki said with a smile.

"You promised me katsudon, piggy," Yuri pouted. "Unless..."

Yuuri smiled and broke a piroshki open. The smell of egg and pork wafted onto Yuri's face, that heavenly smell he treasured from Hasetsu. "Both of your favorites at once!" He said proudly.

Yuri fought back the lump in his throat. "You remembered," was all he could choke out.

"How could I forget? It was vkusno," Yuuri said, kneeling by Viktor and taking a bite of his own piroshki. Yuri grabbed one and started eating it. The piroshki itself wasn't as good as his grandpa's, but the katsudon part was heavenly. "There was a lot of trial and error figuring out how to get it right, but Viktor was happy to eat the accidents."

"So many delicious accidents," Viktor said as he leaned over to steal a bite of Yuuri's food. Yuri "accidentally" bumped into the table, sending it into Viktor's shin.

"Oops," he said, not remotely convincing. He smirked behind his bangs as he took another bite of his own.

The food was good, and the company was better. They talked most of the night about skating, about the nationals, about Hasetsu, Yuri's grandpa, even video games. A few hours of playing the latter put Viktor to sleep, the dog resting in his chest, leaving both Yuris alone with a single cold but still very delicious piroshki. They looked at it hungrily.

"It's yours," Yuuri said with a polite smile. "Happy birthday."

Yuri snorted. "Don't act like you don't have an appetite, Katsudon," he said, still not taking it. "You're the chef. You have it."

"Then I insist, as the chef, that you eat more of my cooking."

"We can just both have it."

"Are you offering to share, Yurio? That has to be a first."

"Shut it, piggy! How can you even eat katsudon? Isn't that cannibalism?"

"Ha, ha, ha," Yuuri said dryly. He pushed the tray towards Yuri. "Eat."

He said it the exact same way Yuri did that day at the Rostelecom cup. That was what made him finally give in to temptation and take it.

"Why did you even have katsudon piroshki that day?" Yuuri asked, curious as he watched the younger boy eat.

Yuri shrugged. "I told my grandpa about katsudon. He seemed kind of offended at first, but he's just as stubborn as I am, so...he went and learned how to make these, just for me."

"You told him about katsudon?" Yuuri said with a smile. "Were you actually talking about the food, or did he just get confused because you were talking about me?"

"The food, stupid katsudon," Yuri snapped.

"What, so you didn't mention me at all?" Yuuri asked, feigning indignation.

"I didn't say that," Yuri muttered. During the ride to the Rostelecom cup he had spent roughly half the time gushing about Hasetsu and the other half bitching about Yuuri. Not that he was going to admit that.

Yuri felt suddenly self conscious as he took his first bite, feeling like he was being watched. No, examined was a more appropriate term. Feeling his face flush, he looked up at Yuuri, who was gazing rather curiously at him with his head cocked. "What are you looking at, katsudon?" Yuri asked warily.

It was Yuuri's turn to flush. Not that it was hard to do that to him anyway. "Sorry. I guess I kind of just thought of something."

"Something that made you stare at me while I eat?" Yuri continued, feeling flustered and frightened all at once.

It took Yuuri a moment to choke out an intelligible response in english. "It's just that...people always talk about you like you're this pretty, delicate Russian fairy. Not that you aren't. Pretty, I mean," Yuuri was a mess, as always. His face burned brighter until it seemed to glow. Yuri felt his heart ache at hearing the compliment, however awkward, stumble from Yuuri's mouth. The first part of the statement was completely unimportant: Yuuri had said he was pretty. "Sorry. It's just that, when I look at you, I always just see your strength. That's why I was so intimidated by you at first. Here you were, eight years younger than me and nearly a head shorter, and I was petrified by the...intensity of your eyes. So, it's just funny to me how anyone could see you as such a delicate, innocent thing like a fairy."

"Fairies are pretty powerful, I guess. Magic and stuff," Yuri grumbled, trying to feign irritation. His head was spinning. No one had ever acknowledged that about him except his grandpa and his best friend. Yuuri was suddenly in their exclusive company in addition to being the sole object of his affections. As if he needed more reasons to love the stupid katsudon.

"Yuri," he said, suddenly serious. "I have to ask. At the Barcelona GPF, I felt like you were trying to tell me something."

"When?" Yuri asked, cautious.

"During your free skate. And...after your free skate," he answered, gazing intently at Yuri.

"I just didn't want you to retire," Yuri said, strenuously avoiding eye contact.

"I know. That was confusing," Yuri heard him chuckle. "No, I mean, there was something else. I'm actually pretty good at reading people, but...well, my mental weakness gets in the way. When people think highly of me, I dismiss it, like they couldn't possibly believe that."

"Who said I think highly of you, Katsudon?" Yuri said defensively.

"You did," Yuuri pointed out. "You said I was amazing, even when I was at my worst."

Yuri felt his blood run cold for a moment, before it heated nearly to boiling. He wondered if his cheeks were about to burst into flames. He had forgotten, or forced out his mind, the conversation they'd had before the medal ceremony. He'd threatened to break Yuuri's record and keep beating him, over and over, for as long as he was on the ice. When Yuuri had smiled and said he believed that, Yuri had started to tear up again. Unable to stop himself, he'd blabbed all about how impressed he was with Yuuri even at the previous GPF. "Yeah, okay, what of it?"

"It's just us here, Yuri," Katsuki said calmly. Yuri was startled to hear his actual name come out of his friend and rival's mouth. "I know it's not easy for you to talk about stuff but, I mean, we've cried in front of each other twice now. I think we can be honest."

"You've gotten bold, Katsudon," Yuri said.

"Only because I accepted that people love me, and I loved them, too," Yuuri countered. Yuri still couldn't look him in the eye, but he could hear the smile. "Even then I still have my doubts and my worries and...other things. But I know when to push through things that are important, for myself, for Viktor, for my family, for my friends, and for you, too. You can tell me anything."

Yuri thought he was going to drop dead on the spot. His heart ached again, beating rapidly and pushing the pain out to his fingers and toes; not a bad pain, but a new one. He sat in silence, not wanting to say anything until he decided that he believed Yuuri after all. He finally managed to choke out a single phrase, spoken to the floor instead of Yuuri. "I love katsudon."

Silence. Yuuri finally managed an elegant "Huh?"

"I really, really love katsudon," Yuri continued, still speaking to the floor. He looked at the food in his hand. "I loved it from the first time I saw it, and I love it more and more every time I see it. I love it so much that when I see other people having it, I get angry. I say stupid things I don't mean, like I always do."

Yuri finally looked up from the floor to see Yuuri, stunned into silence, sitting with his hands on his knees, looking at Yuri like he was seeing him for the first time.

"I've seen katsudon almost every day for a while now, and it's been amazing, the best time of my life, but also the worst. Because I saw it, but I couldn't have it. I could never have it because they probably think I'm just a stupid kid, and they're already in love."

If Yuuri didn't know it before, he had to know now. Yuri pushed his hair back, looking across the table with both eyes for the first time. Yuuri looked like he might cry. Yuri felt the sadness turning into anger like it had back then, in the bathrooms at Sochi. He rose from the floor, tossing what was left of his food onto the tray.

"I'm leaving," he said brusquely. He didn't turn around as he stormed towards the door, ignoring the weak protests from Yuuri. It was a long walk to the bus stop, and a longer ride home, too much time alone with his thoughts. Back in his own room at Lilia's, he threw his phone into the corner without checking his notifications, held his cat tight, and fell asleep.

Practice the next day was strained. Whenever Yuuri wandered near him, Yuri skated clear across the rink to keep his space. He didn't say a word to anyone, except when he was responding to Lilia's commands. It wasn't until Yuuri cornered him at the bus stop that he was forced to speak.

"Hi, Yuri," the senior skater said quietly, cautiously, like he was dealing with a wild animal.

"What do you want, katsu...Piggy?"

"Can we please go inside and talk?" Yuuri begged.

"Why," Yuri growled. Every time he was alone with Yuuri he humiliated himself. At the waterfall, at the grand prix, on his birthday. It didn't seem to matter.

"Please," Yuuri repeated, and his hand found its way to Yuri's shoulder.

"Whatever," he spat, allowing himself to be led back into the complex. Yuuri eventually sat them down at a bench in the deserted changing rooms.

"Last night-"

"I said stupid things," Yuri interrupted. "I was drunk on pork. Or something. Whatever."

Yuuri shook his head. "I...just didn't ever think you had such strong feelings, Yuri. Except maybe anger."

"Quit that," Yuri muttered. "Call me Yurio or some other demeaning bullshit nickname."

"Okay...snow kitten," he said, testing out the name. He clearly meant it as a joke, but Yuri shuddered with a perverse pleasure. He hated that he liked it. "When Viktor first came to Hasetsu, he was so...aggressive. I figured he was just like that with everybody, like Chris. I was terrified because I didn't want to believe that my idol, someone so talented and amazing and...well, I just couldn't fathom that I meant anything to him. Until he kissed me in front of all of China."

"I don't want to hear about your stupid piggy love affairs," Yuri snapped, anger creeping into his voice.

"I promise this is going somewhere," Yuuri said, suddenly somewhat frantic. He took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is, I know I underestimate myself, and that makes me underestimate how people feel about me. I've gotten better at that, but I'm still not great at it, of course."

"If this is going somewhere, it's going really slowly," Yuri grumbled.

"I know," Yuuri said with a fond smile. "See, I love Viktor. I love my friends. I love my family. But I've always had a unique sort of love for you, too. Something different from how I feel about anyone else."

Yuri couldn't say anything. This was a dream, right?

"I wasn't sure how to qualify it. You being so young made it even harder-"

"I don't want to hear shit about my age," Yuri growled, biting back the fury. "I've been on my own just as long as you, katsudon."

"I know," Yuuri said softly. "I also know you're mature for your age, even if you can be a brat."

"Like you don't ever pout, piggy," Yuri mumbled.

"I know, I know. You're really kind of adorable when you're being petulant," Yuuri said. He said it awkwardly, as though the words had to fight their way past his insecurities.

"Shut up," Yuri choked out. He turned to glare at Yuuri, hair falling back over his eye. "Is this some kind of platonic love shit? I don't want to be led on. You either feel the same as I do or you don't. Just tell me."

Yuuri didn't say anything. He turned his head, brown eyes shining, looking at the fury and pain not so subtly hidden behind Yuri's green ones. Wordlessly, he raised a hand to brush aside Yuri's hair, and they just stared into each other for a while.

"What are you doing, katsudon?" He asked quietly, not making any effort to move Yuuri's hand away.

"I don't see both of your eyes often," he said, voice barely a whisper. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but couldn't find the words. Yuri was tired of words anyway. He threw his arms around Yuuri's chest and buried his face into it aggressively. Even after his growth spurt, Yuuri was still slightly taller and far stockier than him.

He felt Yuuri's arm wrap around his slender waist and pull him closer and relished the warmth. His chest ached. It was as though a balloon was inflating in his ribcage, one full of pure joy. It almost choked him. He couldn't speak for a long time, taking the chance to breathe in Yuuri's smell, to enjoy the solid feeling of his chest. Yuri wanted to stay there forever but he felt his doubts nag at him again. "What about Viktor?"

"He heard everything last night. Pretending to sleep is his specialty," Yuri said with a gentle laugh. "Don't worry, he's not upset. He's known how you felt longer than I have."

Yuri was grateful his face was out of sight as it flushed deeply. "Bullshit," he mumbled into Yuuri's chest. "When did he say he found out?"

"When you accosted him before the short program at Barcelona. The morning after he announced the engagement in his...uniquely Viktorish way," Yuuri shook his head with an amused smile. "He was mad at first, but once he saw the look in your eyes he started to wonder. When you talked about Hasetsu, he finally understood why you were so angry."

"Well, that explains why he never brought it up again, and why he gave me that weird hug," Yuri sighed. He looked down at Yuuri's hand, the ring glaring into his eyes. He reached out for the other hand, the one without the ring, wrapping his delicate fingers around it as if to say "this one is mine now." Yuuri let it rest there. "So...you never answered me properly. Do you feel the same way about me or don't you?"

"None of us are any good with words, are we?" Yuuri asked with an awkward, quiet laugh. "I don't know exactly how you feel, so I can't answer that, Yurio. But..." he lowered his head, buying his face into Yuri's hair. He took a deep breath there, inhaling the smell of the luxurious golden mane, pulling Yuri tighter all the while. "...I hope I can at least show you."

Yuri allowed himself to melt into Yuuri's arms, hoping the warmth would crush any lingering doubts. The sentiment was clear, but he still wanted words. "What about the rings?"

"What about them?" Yuuri asked, perplexed.

"I want to be with you," Yuri whispered. "If you want to be with me, what does that mean for Viktor?"

"I still love him. Nothing's going to end our relationship any time soon," he said, still holding Yuri close. "Honestly, I spent most of the night thinking about this. The longer I thought, the more it made sense to me that I harbored strong feelings for both of you. It dawned on me that you don't give love away, but that each experience with love adds more."

"What, did all that eros and agape shit make you some kind of expert?" Yuri snorted.

"I've learned a lot since Sochi, mostly thanks to you and Viktor. About love and about myself. Plus, Viktor was up most of the night with me and he helped a lot," Yuuri answered. "He said that as long as I loved him, nothing else mattered."

"So...you're saying you want to be with both of us, or something?" Yuri wasn't sure how to feel about that. Jealousy spiked within him, but so did affection. Viktor was a pain, but Yuri did have some kind of (ugh) love for him. "I don't really want to go fooling around with Viktor. It'd be...weird."

Yuuri laughed. "He said pretty much the same. You're both with me, not with each other. You guys can continue to be...whatever you are to each other, and you and I can be-"

"Boyfriends," Yuri interjected.

"Of course," Yuuri replied fondly.

"Will it not be...weird? Sharing you?"

"You're not sharing," Yuuri said with a patient smile. "You get all of me, and he gets all of me. Maybe it'll make more sense in practice?"

"I'll figure it out," Yuri said, his confidence returning. "I like the idea of you being mine, no matter what."

They sat there in silence for a while. Yuri could have stayed forever, but Yuuri finally broke the silence with an offer. "Why don't you come back to the apartment with me? We can game some more, and I can throw together some katsudon. The normal kind."

That sounded perfect to Yuri. First, however, he had to say something. Something stupid. He moved away from Yuri's chest without breaking the hug, and looked into the soft, beautiful eyes smiling down at him. "Tell me I'm pretty," Yuri mumbled. He wanted to hear Yuuri say it again, directly this time, no matter the cost to his own pride.

Yuuri flushed violently. He stammered for a moment, gazing at the tiny Russian in his arms. "Well, I already told you what drew me to you. Your strength, your drive, your intensity. That look in your eyes when you're determined, that's why I feel so strongly for you. But," he finally smiled, even warmer than before. "Yes. You are very, very pretty."

Yuri practically purred as his face plunged into Yuuri's warm, vaguely katsudon-scented chest once again. They rose from the bench together, and Yuri forcefully stole a hand to hold. The one he had claimed. They walked in silence back to the apartment.