Hi again. It's me. I wrote another thing, but this time I have some serious warnings so read my boring spiel first please.

WARNINGS: While this is tagged as humor and fluff, for some reason while writing this I decided to add in a couple of dark scenes. Why? No idea. That's just what happened. There is a vague rape mention - not directed at any main character, but still there so please be prepared for that...Or if you want to ignore it completely, it isn't terribly central to the story.

Aside from that, everything is pretty light and cute, so enjoy that. That's all!

Three hours.

That was how long Yuuri made it without Victor. Three. Hours.

For all of his pouting and whining that yes, Victor could go to America without him and of course, Yuuri would be fine for a week alone in St. Petersburg, he had never felt more defeated. Yuuri had been so certain he could handle himself in his new Russian home without his fiancée to guide him, but alas here he was.

"Thank you so much again." He smiled weakly as Yakov led him inside, eyes squinting at him suspiciously. "Um, you didn't tell Victor about this did you?" He added on nervously and the older man shook his head.

"I'm guessing you don't want Vitya to know?" He asked, a bit deadpanned and Yuuri gave a nervous laugh.

"Well…No. It might just worry him." He said wryly and the older man nodded. Yuuri hadn't meant to lock himself out of their apartment – but he had been so distracted with trying to make sure he had everything he needed for the week he hadn't realized he left the keys inside and, well, there you have it. The locksmith couldn't come until tomorrow either, which all led to why he was awkwardly standing in Yakov's kitchen.

"Sit." Yakov told him, jutting his chin towards the couch. Yuuri gave another small bow of thanks and scrambled out of the kitchen, glancing around the living room. Yakov's apartment was pretty modest, though Yuuri knew the older man had no shortage of money. Sitting on the gray couch, he looked around, noting most of the walls were adorned with photos of skaters. Yuuri recognized most of them - Georgi, Mila, Yurio – and plenty of Victor. Victor's face beamed at him both young and older from almost every wall. Unlike the others, Victor seemed to appear in more than just skating photos. Some looked to be school pictures while others showed his fiancée with what appeared to be childhood friends.

God, he was so cute. Smiling, Yuuri stood and walked to mantelpiece where a framed picture of a seven-year-old boy grinned up at him. Yuuri couldn't be sure it was Victor, but as blue eyes beamed up at him, he couldn't imagine it being anyone else.

"Who is this?" He asked, turning to show Yakov the photo as he entered the room to throw some pillows and blankets down. The older man looked curiously at the item in Yuuri's hand, eyes sweeping past the boy and onto the woman next to him Yuuri was pointing out.

"Natasha." He answered, voice wary as Yuuri looked back down. The woman looked young, she could have been Yuuri's own age in the photo. Her hair matched Victor's, braided down to her waist, smiling warmly into the camera as she hugged the boy tightly to her side. "Vitya's mother."

"Mother?" Yuuri asked, a bit startled. Victor never talked about his family or his past very often – if it all. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him the woman in the photo was Victor's mother, they looked so much alike, but somehow it seemed like a strange and foreign concept. Yuuri had tried to talk to Victor about his family a few times, but the other man simply danced away from the subject, leaving Yuuri to wonder if he would ever know.

It was rather impressive that someone as famous and renowned as Victor Nikiforov managed to keep their personal life so private. The thought made Yuuri's heart pound a little as he looked down at something that seemed so secretive.

"I've never seen her before." Yuuri told Yakov, gently putting the picture back, but his eyes didn't leave the woman.

"It has been many years since anyone has seen her." Yakov told him and Yuuri frowned, turning away from the mantel to look at him.

"What happened?"

"Nobody knows." Yakov shrugged "Victor was the last person she spoke to… He never said what their last conversations was about." He said and Yuuri bit his lip, sitting back down on the couch thoughtfully.

"What about his father?" He asked and Yakov blinked.

"His father?" He repeated and scowled at him. "What do you know about your fiancée?" He asked harshly and Yuuri flinched.

"He doesn't tell me these things." He replied and glanced at his feet "…And I shouldn't be asking. I'm sorry." He added quietly. There was a moment of silence, Yuuri kept his eyes trained on the ground, a little ashamed as he looked at the grainy pattern in the wood planks beneath him. What kind of fiancée was he anyways? Asking questions he clearly had no right to know. His face flushed a little with embarrassment.

"Just because he doesn't want to tell you himself, doesn't mean he doesn't want you to know." Yakov stated slowly and Yuuri glanced up quickly. The coach looked a little worn, his eyes studying Yuuri intensely as he sat down in the armchair across from him.

"Would he mind?"

"He never minds when it comes to you." Yakov told him and glanced back at where the photo of Victor and his mother stood. "I met Natasha when she was ten years old… I was only twenty at the time." Yakov scoffed, as if in disbelief he had ever been so young. "She came from a small family outside of town… Not a nice one either. Her sister was a piece of work." Yakov snorted "And her parents were both drunks…But she was a good egg. She would come to the rink to sell these little necklaces she made and used the money to buy her sister gifts… Not that Nika ever cared."

"Nika?"

"Her sister." Yakov answered, making a slight face. "She didn't care much for Natasha. After a couple years Natasha gave up trying to please her." He said and Yuuri crossed his legs, trying to imagine the young girl Yakov described.

"I became friends with her – she was a sweet thing, but fiercely independent. I think she figured if her family didn't care for her, no one should. She did everything herself. I offered her time after time to come stay with me, as did other skaters, but she would just laugh and shake her head at us. We were fools to keep asking." Yakov smiled a little, but it disappeared after a moment. "She only asked for my help once. She had just turned fifteen and came into the rink crying… I was starting to coach then, so I took her to my office to see what was wrong and she kept saying she was attacked. I had been so confused – there hadn't been a mark on her, but she was so distraught… I didn't understand until much later when she told me she was pregnant." He said and Yuuri jolted back a little with realization.

He hadn't thought…He had no idea…

"As horrible as it was, she was proud of that baby." Yakov told him "So many families offered to take it – she was only a child, but there was no way she would part with it. I asked her why and you know what she said? She looked me straight in the eyes and told me that if this child couldn't love her than no one could." Yakov shook his head "I don't know if that is the right motivation to raise a child on, but she made it work. She called him her champion – her Victor." He smiled

"Did they live with her parents?"

"No, no. A couple skaters and I bought her a small apartment – she was furious. She paid us back every penny as soon as she started working, but it was good for her and Vitya. They had a happy family there. She would go to work – sometimes she brought Vitya with her or sometimes she would have him go to the rink for the day when he wasn't in school."

"He started skating." Yuuri smiled and Yakov grinned more broadly with a nod.

"Yes. Natasha was against it at first. Forced him to sit on the sidelines because she was afraid he would get hurt, but when he turned seven I convinced her to let him try it. He skated his first routine three years later for his mother… I don't think she ever had any doubt she was loved after that." He shook his head. Yuuri waited, feeling a 'but' coming as Yakov went quiet for a moment.

"When Victor turned eleven she disappeared. We don't know what happened. Victor was sent to live with his aunt… She was just as distant with him as she was with Natasha. I did everything I could to keep him focused on skating – I thought it was the only thing stable in his life…but he was just like his mom. Reckless. Independent. Proud." He shook his head "It was like trying to control the wind."

"You did it though." Yuuri said quietly and Yakov stared at him. It was true. Victor was a champion among skaters – as successful as they come.

"Perhaps. I often wondered if steering him so harshly towards skating hurt him in other ways. His mother was his only real family."

"I don't think that's true." Yuuri said before he could stop himself. He winced a little at having blurted the words out but kept pushing forward "He has told me so many times that you and the other skaters are everything to him. That's what family is, right?" He asked and Yakov narrowed his eyes slightly at him.

"I never understood why he fell for the drunk at the banquet." He said slowly "You were always a mess with your sloppy jumps and sixth place ranking." He added distastefully "But Vitya is much like Natasha – he doesn't believe he is loved by everyone. I can't imagine how you convinced him so quickly that he would follow you to Japan."

"I was… I was already in love with him."

"Before you even met?"

"From the first time I saw him skate." Yuuri said quietly and then shook his head "Not in the same way as I am now, of course. It is different. I only got a piece of him through the TV screen…And I imagine there are plenty of other pieces I have yet to fall in love with but… I look forward to it." He shrugged "But I guess you're right – I don't know why he picked me either."

Yakov stared.

Had Yuuri said something wrong? God, Victor would be heartbroken if his coach hated him… How would he even explain –

"I'm glad he did."

"What-?"

"Goodnight."

"Oh…Okay." Yuuri flushed, picking up the blankets from where Yakov dropped them. Throwing them over the couch, he thanked the older man once last time before he disappeared into the room, leaving Yuuri amidst the photos, Natasha Nikiforov smiling eerily at him from the mantel.

The next morning, Yuuri made breakfast. He figured it was the least he could do for Yakov after letting him stay for the night. After folding the sheets and pillow neatly on the couch, he set straight to work. Victor, as it turned out, was quite possibly the worst cook in all of Japan, Russia, and the world…So Yuuri found himself cooking a lot, despite Victor's constant promises of getting better. Yurio had taught him some Russian dishes, begrudgingly, but Yuuri appreciated it all the same.

After pouring some tea and eating his own helping, Yuuri considered just leaving the breakfast and a thank you note for Yakov on the counter so he could make it to the locksmith's early. Before he could make a decision however, there was the sound of a door slamming, leaving Yuuri to internally wince and wonder if this was actually a good idea.

"Um. Hi." He greeted softly as Yakov dragged himself in the kitchen. "Good morning." He added and the older man stared. For a second Yuuri wondered if he had forgotten that Yuuri was supposed to be here, only to feel relieved when Yakov grunted a response that might have been Russian before spying the meal.

"Are these blinis?" He asked skeptically and Yuuri felt the regret snap up at him again.

"Uh… Yeah. I'm still learning Russian food so it might not be very good – I wanted to say thank you for letting me stay…" He trailed off, awkwardly standing as Yakov took a few tentative bites before spinning around, pointing his fork at Yuuri accusingly.

"You can cook!?" He demanded and Yuuri stared.

"I….Yes?" He frowned. Was that…Bad? Yakov looked a little like he torn between screaming and crying. Hissing something in Russian, Yuuri tried to form an apology, sure he must have caused some offense.

"No, no. It's Victor." Yakov grumbled "He told me you didn't know a thing about food." He explained and Yuuri stared, baffled.

"Why would he…?"

"I've been giving him lunch because I thought neither of you could make anything." Yakov scowled "That little rat." He muttered, displeased. Yuuri rolled his eyes. This did not surprise him in the least. Pouring himself a fresh cup of tea, he put some dishes in the sink.

"If that's the case, I have no qualms on not cooking for him when he comes back." He smiled and Yakov shot him what could have been an amused look.

"Your cooking is good." He said nodding to the bilinis. "I'm sure he'll miss it." He grinned and Yuuri almost felt bad for his fiancée, seeing the evil glint in the older man's eyes.

"Thanks." He smiled back "Does he normally get his food from you?"

"Not anymore." Yakov snorted "He has chefs and could always afford to eat out – but he is a sucker for a home cooked meal." He mused and Yuuri blinked.

"He has chefs?" He repeated and Yakov shrugged.

"Have you not met them yet? Whoops." He said, not sounding terribly apologetic.

"I forget he's rich sometimes."

"Surprising. He so loves to leave a trail of money wherever he goes." Yakov grimaced and Yuuri thought back to all the shopping trips he had been dragged on.

"He has…Unique taste."

"Unique." Yakov snorted. "You are so kind to him."

Chuckling, Yuuri turned away, grabbing the teapot so he could refill Yakov's cup. Despite the older man's surly attitude, Yuuri kind of…Liked talking to him. He was a good source of Victor information at least.

"How good is your Russian?" Yakov suddenly asked and Yuuri pursed his lips, thinking to the nights he spent pouring over books, desperately trying to repeat Victor's words back to him so that they made sense and sighed.

"Not…Spectacular." He admitted "I'm getting the hand of some tenses." He shrugged "I don't think I could hold a conversation for longer than a few seconds."

"Hmm." Yakov commented thoughtfully "You might have some trouble with the locksmith than. I should probably come with you."

Well. Yuuri hadn't been expecting that. Squirming underneath his gaze, he stuttered out some thank yous, some which might have been in Japanese. Never in a thousand years would Yuuri had thought that he would be running an errand with Victor Nikiforov's coach to get him back in the house that he and the skater himself shared together. Life could be so utterly bizarre. Shaking his head, he shrugged on his coat, trying to ignore Yakov's eyes on him.

"You never talk back to him."

"What?"

"Victor. You never talk back." Yakov said and Yuuri blinked.

"I mean…Not when he's coaching. He knows better than me there." Yuuri told him, though couldn't help but think it wasn't…Entirely true. Yuuri never talked back as Yakov put it, but there had definitely been some words exchanged after Yuuri snuck off to the rink when he had a hurt ankle that didn't go over as planned.

"Damn." Yakov sighed "I had hoped if Vitya ever got a student… That student would be just as difficult as he was for me." He grumbled "I wish I could trade my Yuri for you…Just for a few days." He mumbled as they stepped outside into the cold, frigid air of Russia.

Was that a compliment?

"I wouldn't mind." Yuuri shrugged "You trained two gold medalists – I would imagine you would know what you're doing."

There was another pause and Yuuri glanced curiously to see Yakov look into the sky imploringly. "Yakov…?"

"This way." He said gruffly and Yuuri shrugged.

They made idle talk as they walked – Yakov had obviously gained the patience of a saint from years of coaching and had no qualms on explaining to Yuuri the different customs of Russia they passed. Yuuri made some comments on how this was different from his own home, which Yakov asked a few curious questions about.

"Vitya's school." Yakov mentioned when they passed what Yuuri initially took for a mansion.

"School?" He repeated, eyes wide at the building that towered over them, columns holding up the several stories that glistened with a fresh coat of yellow paint.

"Hm." Yakov nodded "He hated it there."

Yuuri blinked, eyes wandering over the architecture – Victor hadn't mentioned school either. He wondered why on earth the Victor Nikiforov would hate school. Surely he had lots of friends and teachers doting upon him.

"Why?"

"People didn't quite understand him, I suppose. He always preferred to be with other skaters, if anyone at all… They didn't promote too much creativity at that school. Victor's only outlet was skating." He shrugged and Yuuri nodded, letting his eyes fall once more curiously over the building before rounding the corner.

They were recognized a few times. Different people came up, speaking to Yakov respectfully in Russian, handing him gifts once or twice. Some eyes wandered curiously to Yuuri, but lost interest upon learning he spoke horrific Russian.

"You're Victor Nikiforov's fiancée, right?" One girl asked, her English thickly accented. Yuuri nodded nervously, glancing at Yakov for guidance, but the older man only shot him a stern look.

"Your free skate was beautiful." The girl said, a small smile placing her lips "Good luck in the future."

"Thank you." He said, relieved at the kindness. He bowed a little and the girl smiled warmly, awkwardly trying the movement herself. Yuuri flushed a little, realizing people in Russia wouldn't know what he was doing. He was grateful for the girl not making a fool out of him at the very least.

"Eye contact is important." Yakov told him when she walked away. They were entering the locksmith shop now. "No matter how nervous you are, you owe your audience to look them in the eyes." He told him flatly and Yuuri nodded. Yakov paused, as if waiting for him to argue, but when none came slowly turned to the man who was curiously staring at them from the front of the store.

Yuuri watched, a little bashfully as Yakov explained the situation to the man at the desk who laughed and directed a warm smile at Yuuri. The two continued speaking Russian as another man was called to take over the front of the store while the three of them departed to Yuuri and Victor's apartment. Luckily, the situation was resolved quickly and the door unlocked easily. After multiple thank yous and such, Yuuri paid and gave a sigh of relief when he located his keys on the counter and shoved them in his pocket.

"You don't have to coach today do you?" He asked suddenly "I hope I didn't keep you away from that!"

Yakov paused, checking his watch for a moment before shaking his head.

"No, no. Mila's practice won't start for another hour." He mused "And Georgi's after that...Then Yuri's." He added and Yuuri pursed his lips.

"That's...A lot." He commented "Do you need any help?" He asked and Yakov stared at him blankly.

"Help?" He asked and Yuuri laughed.

"Yeah. Obviously I can't coach or anything, but I could probably lug around equipment or something...And I know Yuri can sometimes be...A lot for one person if he's in a bad enough mood." He mused. For a second Yakov just continued staring at him, distrust etched into his expression.

"I think you're too good for Victor." He said after a couple moments of silence. Yuuri blinked, not for sure how to answer when Yakov spoke again. "I have an idea..."

Victor was exhausted. He missed Yuuri. He wanted nothing more but to climb into bed and gather his fiancée up in his arms and sleep for days – maybe waking up only to have Yuuri give him food and kiss him a few times before drifting off again. The idea was so appealing, he considered texting the man in question and letting him know he was coming back early.

No, no. He wanted to surprise him. If Victor had learned anything from this two day trip of his, it was that he had a hard time being away from Yuuri for only forty-eight hours – he should definitely appreciate him more. Maybe he could kidnap the man for a week long cruise…Surely Yakov wouldn't mind?

Jamming his keys into the door, he noted the knob felt…smoother than usual. As if someone had replaced the six-year-old lock. Frowning, he took his key out and tried again with a bit of confusion at how well the key turned. Perhaps Yuuri oiled it something? Victor wasn't sure if locks even worked that way, but Yuuri always seemed to have answers to strange domestic problems that Victor had never heard of.

"Solnyshka?" He called, letting the door open up. He froze at the scent of food – God, that smelled amazing. The sound of pots clanking caught his attention as he recognized the smell from one of the dishes as Beef Straganoff. It almost smelled like Yakov's…

"Yuuri?" He tried again, dropping his bag on the floor as Makkachin shot his head up and panted at the sight of him. Some guard dog. He knelt on the floor, rubbing his head slightly and kissing his head.

"Victor?" He heard and turned to see Yuuri in the kitchen, a bit of flour on his face as he cocked his head a little to the side in confusion. "What are you doing here?" He asked, but his eyes brightened up, warming Victor's heart a little.

"It got cancelled." He smiled "So I decided to come back home and surprise you!" He beamed, producing a small package from his pocket.

"Oi. Why are you here?" A voice called out and from behind Yuuri popped out the other Yuri, face contorted into annoyance upon seeing Victor. "Who invited him?"

"I live here." Victor said blankly, shooting Yuuri a questioning glance as a bang from behind him made him jump.

"I found the sauce!" Mila cried in triumph "I knew that old loon had to have some – oh. Hi Vitya. I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"I live here." Victor repeated, still kneeling next to Makkachin, looking up at the three.

"Um… I invited them over for dinner?" Yuuri asked "Sort of."

"Sort of?" Victor asked, cocking his head a little to the side as Georgi made his entrance, pausing to look at Victor in surprise before slowly putting down the bowl he was stirring on the counter.

"Yakov is teaching us how to make Beef Stragonoff." He said and Yurio rolled his eyes.

"Yakov?"

"Yura! Where's the rice?" Yakov called out on cue and Yuuri jumped, picking up the bowl again with a warm smile at Victor who was still dumbfounded on the floor.

"Here!" He called out, and handed the bowl to his coach, who paused upon seeing Victor.

"Vitya." He greeted solemnly "I thought you weren't back for a couple more days."

"I…My endorsement event ended up being cancelled." He said and Yakov clicked his tongue disapprovingly, pouring Yuuri's rice into a larger bowl "Do I get some?" He asked curiously and Yakov shook his head.

"No."

"No?"

"Yakov said only World Record holders get beef stragonoff." Yurio smirked and there was a pause before Mila and Georgi seemed to realize what he just said.

"That's not true!"

"We helped make it!"

"Yakov! Tell him we get some too!"

"You two get Oroshka since you're competing next week." Yakov said, pointing a spoon at them. Mila and Georgi stared, looking completely betrayed as they sat at the counter, pouting about how neither of them even liked Oroshka.

"I'm not competing next week." Victor said, finally standing up.

"I'm sorry Vitya, what world record do you hold?" Yakov asked innocently, pouring the food onto both of the Yuris' plates. Victor tried not the smell of it get to him.

"Yakov!" He complained and looked at his fiancée with a small pout. Yuuri licked his lips, glancing between his food and Victor without the slightest bit of remorse.

"Sorry, koishii." He shrugged, shoveling some rice onto his fork "I don't make the rules. You say you don't kiss my medal unless it's gold, Yakov said you don't beef staganoff unless you have a world record." He gave a small, taunting sigh. "Otherwise I would share it…" He smiled and put a forkful in his mouth, groaning.

"It isn't that good." Yurio rolled his eyes, but was holding out his plate for seconds. Victor scowled at the two, crossing his arms before turning his glare to Yakov who was in the process of making Oroshka now.

"Well what do I get?" He demanded and both his coach and student exchanged smirks.

"You?" Yakov asked innocently "Interesting. Would you like Yuuri or me to cook for you?" He asked and Victor paused. He realized that cooking lessons with Yuuri and Yakov in one kitchen would allow them to come to revelation that both had been spoiling Victor rotten with their food under….False pretenses.

"Um…" He said, trying to think of a way to word this. "Well. I'm really happy everyone is getting along-"

"Here we go." Yurio muttered "He'll be rambling nonsense for hours."

"Oh don't worry, Vitya." Yakov said casually, handing Mila and Georgi their meals. "The Japanese Yuuri found we have some common interests to continue getting along…Like making sure you're not tricking us into cooking for you."

"Right. Great. Um, well-"

"Yakov, did I tell you he didn't even do the dishes last week?"

"Really?" Yakov shook his head "Well, we can just add a few hundred pushups to our next practice then."

"Wait. Wait a minute here!"

"He also won't tell me where his skating pictures are from when he was twelve are."

"Oh, the ones when he had a bowl cut? I have a few you can borrow."

"Oh my god." Victor said, leaning against the counter in defeat "I am just one man – have mercy! I'm sorry for not doing the dishes!...And for making you cook for me." He added to Yakov "Please stop this diabolic double teaming!"

There was a moment of silence in which both parties seemed to consider the plea for a moment.

"What a drama king." Yurio muttered between bites of rice and beef "I hope you two never have children – the great drama pigs of Russia and Japan." He scoffed "Bless those who see that day." He grumbled as Yuuri turned bright red beside him.

"They would need to get married first." Georgi said, sipping some tea. "And rumor has it Victor said the Japanese Yuuri needs to get gold for that to happen."

"Good luck." Yurio smirked and Yakov paused.

"You what?"

"Oh. Did you not know?" Mila asked her coach innocently and Victor buried his face in his hands.

"I wasn't serious." He said weakly "I cannot believe I'm getting shamed in my own house." He grumbled.

"It's an apartment." Yurio snipped.

"That isn't fair Vitya! How do you expect him to get gold with you coaching him?" Yakov complained and turned to Yuuri "I'll start coaching him on how to coach."

"Thanks, Yakov." Yuuri chuckled and Victor took a deep breath.

"Is anybody going to feed me?"

"I like Yakov." Yuuri smiled as he fell onto the bed. Victor made a face, rolling over so he could look at Yuuri critically.

"How did you two spend so much time together in two days anyways?" He demanded and watched as a bit of embarrassment swept over the younger boy's face. He muttered something lowly and Victor leaned in trying to make it out. "What?"

"I kind of stayed at his house after I locked myself out of the apartment." He grumbled, burying his face into the pillow.

"Yuuri!" Victor scolded, though he was really trying not to laugh "I reminded you about a thousand times-"

"I know!" Yuuri said, wrinkling his nose at him. God, he was so cute. "I still forgot."

"I'll make a spare key." Victor rolled his eyes, pulling Yuuri across the bed closer to him. "Under the condition you don't wreak havoc with Yakov."

"I don't think Yakov is trying to wreak havoc." Yuuri snorted "He just really loves you." He said, settling into Victor's arms. Victor paused, a little alarmed at hearing those words out loud. He knew it of course – Yakov had all but raised Victor. He was really the only adult figure that was…constantly there is Victor's life. Still, no one had ever said it before. Figures it would be Yuuri to be the first.

"Hm. Well he's awfully fond of you."

"It's because I don't cause problems."

"I beg to differ." Victor grumbled into his hair and Yuuri laughed softly, the two silently lying there for a moment before Yuuri spoke, a little softer this time.

"Victor?"

"Hm?"

"He told me about…About your mom…Is that alright?" He asked quietly and Victor stiffened for a moment.

"I…Yes. I was never trying to hide her for you, solnyshka."

"I know, but I wanted to make sure." He answered and Victor nodded.

"She was a very special woman." He said slowly "I hope wherever she is, she is doing well."

"So she did leave?" Yuuri asked, dark eyes studying him. Victor doubted he could see his face without his glasses, but it seemed Yuuri was trying anyways. "Yakov said you spoke to her last before she disappeared."

"Hm… She told me she was going to America." He said "She had always wanted to go places other than Russia. She told me she would come back for me when she had enough money." He murmured "I… I didn't want to leave though. I always dreaded when she would come back and make me leave… As it turns out, I never had to worry about it."

"Did you try to find her?"

"No. I… I figured she knows how to find me. I've made myself pretty accessible if she ever wants to see me again. If she's dead, I would rather live on without knowing it." He said and felt Yuuri's hand slide up his face, thumb trailing lightly over his mouth.

"I'm sorry." He whispered

Victor didn't know what to say. Instead, he just moved in closer, soaking up Yuuri's warmth.

"I'm okay with losing her." He said after a few more seconds of silence "I found you, so I don't really mind."

"You can still mind even with me here."

"I know." He murmured and from beside them, Victor's phone buzzed. "What the...?" He grumbled and turned over, the light of the phone making him squint as he scowled at the message "Practice at 5:30 tomorrow morning." He read out loud "Don't be late."

"Yikes." Yuuri told him "That's early."

"I cannot believe..." Victor groaned, burying his face in Yuuri's side. "I don't want to..." He mumbled

"You can always skip and I can win." Yuuri told him lightly, kissing the top of his head. Victor scowled up at him for a moment before an evil look crossed his face.

"Hmm...Well maybe I should make your practice at 5:30 too, hm?"

"I wouldn't have a coach!"

"I can give you things to do while I skate." He said and another buzz caught their attention and Victor picked up the phone again. "Nevermind...Yakov says I can't bring you." He said and Yuuri laughed.

"I'll just wait here and sleep in then." He purred, giggling when Victor poked at his sides with annoyance when Yuuri's phone buzzed. Frowning, he rolled over and opened the message. "Tell Victor to go to sleep." He read off and looked at his fiancée. "Go to sleep or Yakov will be pissed." He said over his shoulder, ignoring Victor's whine. "Night."

"Wait, no!"

"Good night."

"I kind of loathe this double teaming thing." Victor grumbled but flopped onto the bed eyes fluttering closed. Yuuri rolled his eyes and turned off the light.