Chapter Text
Vanity Fair Magazine Headquarters, Financial District (New York, NY) – a late morning in May 2021
“Viktor, Yuuri…”
Andressa paused expectantly and Yuuri willed himself not to look in Viktor’s direction, knowing he’d burst out laughing if they made eye contact.
“We’ve brought you here today to take a lie detector test,” the Vanity Fair production manager airily continued. “One of you will be hooked up to the machine while the other one asks the questions, and then you’ll switch. Who wants to get hooked up for the hot seat first?”
Sure enough, within only a second of looking at one another, he and his husband broke out into giggles.
“Yusha really wants to go first. He told me so during hair and makeup!” Viktor crowed in answer, looking straight ahead at the cameras.
Yuuri leaned over to muss up his perfectly styled ponytail, a peal of laughter escaping him when Viktor let out a panicked yelp and attempted to dive for cover under the table.
“Look at that, he’s already lying! The game hasn’t even started yet, Vitya,” he challenged.
The two of them were big fans of Vanity Fair’s celebrity-focused YouTube content, and had been thrilled to get the invitation to film an episode as part of the off-season press run that typically kicked off an Olympic year. He, Viktor, and Yuri had already booked a trip to New York City to take part in Leo de la Iglesia’s ice show, which several of their skating friends were also participating in. As such, the tacked-on visit to the magazine’s headquarters had been a very easy offer to agree to.
“Just for that, he’s going first,” Yuuri told Andressa.
The cameras kept rolling as the show’s production coordinator, Kariesha, began to ready Viktor for attachment to the polygraph machine. It was an intimidating hunk of gleaming aluminum and vinyl, complete with all manner of buttons that looked ready to electrocute you at any given moment.
“Wow! I usually only let my husband touch me like this,” Viktor quipped, as Kariesha snaked a coiled wire across his chest and under his left armpit.
At this light teasing, she gave a sort of hysterical-sounding giggle, but then glanced over at Yuuri with a slightly guilty look on her face. Her crush on the both of them was rather obvious, though the more amusing discovery was that Yuri was the skater most capable of flustering her.
Yuuri just smirked and gave them both a thumbs-up before turning to Phichit. Ever curious, his best friend had demanded to see the list of increasingly provocative questions that he’d developed in collaboration with Andressa.
The twenty printed questions that they’d each developed for one another were there as mere guidelines. When he and Viktor weren’t in the hot-seat themselves, they were allowed to pose follow-ups as long as the queries arose organically.
“Oooh, this’ll make him sweat, for sure,” Phichit gleefully remarked, pointing at a spot halfway down the page.
- In a Vogue Japan interview earlier this year, you said that our dogs [hold up the latest Katsuki-Nikiforov family portrait so that Makkachin, Goya, and Meni are all in camera view] are not only the most adorable poodles on the planet, but the most adorable dogs in general. Do you think our dogs are cuter than... [hold up image of 13-year-old Yuuri, holding puppy Vik-chan] ….this dog?
Yuuri scanned the question then bit back a laugh; it was all too easy to imagine the betrayed visage Viktor would adopt upon seeing the revealed photo.
This would be very fun.
“You won’t catch me in a lie, so stop conspiring against me, you two,” Viktor suddenly called out, evidently having spied their coy smiles.
“I am a most virtuous person…indeed, the very picture of artlessness!” he went on, thumping his uncuffed arm against the table, which prompted him and Phichit to begin snickering and Kariesha to jump in alarm.
“I don’t know, honey, you seem kind of nervous,” Yuuri wryly teased after schooling his features.
He was now out of camera view, sitting in a seat directly opposite his husband.
Before Viktor could make his rebuttal, Andressa gave them a discreet countdown signal.
As Phichit moved off to the side to join Yuri and Otabek, Yuuri turned back and grinned at Viktor’s failing attempt to look serious.
“Ok, Vitya, we’re going to start off with some baseline questions to calibrate things,” Yuuri began, looking to Funmi – the production assistant in charge of gauging the machine’s readings – for confirmation.
She gave him a thumbs up from her seat, also off-camera.
“Ask away, my Yuuri,” Viktor responded, before placing his hands together and interlacing his fingers.
A spark of mischief danced in his eyes.
“Is your name Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov?” Yuuri read off of the page, aiming for an impassive expression and tone.
However, the smile that crept over his face was involuntary; how else was he supposed to react when Viktor’s heart-shaped one immediately emerged?
“I am! During my very happy engagement, I was just ‘Viktor Nikiforov’, but life got exponentially better when I married my soulmate back in April 2019 and got to add on his surname,” he smoothly replied, after which Phichit and several of the filming crew members loudly awww’d.
In contrast, Yuri gave a very put-upon sigh, followed by a mutter of what sounded like “Jesus…it’s already begun.” (And out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri thought he saw Otabek laughing at his best friend’s dismay).
“Good answer, lyubimiy1,” he responded, blushing and feeling fond. “Moving on…are you thirty-two years old?”
A small pout immediately formed on his spouse’s lips, and when he answered, his voice sounded sulky.
“Unfortunately. A veritable fossil, as my much grumpier student makes sure to remind me every day,” he replied, jabbing an accusatory finger in Yuri’s general direction.
Yuri exchanged a smirk with Otabek and they both laughed.
Having fully expected Viktor’s forlorn tone, Yuuri grinned but otherwise chose not to comment; if he really did state everything that flitted through his head over the course of this game, he and Viktor would be here all day and end up missing their group dinner reservation at Casa Limone: a restaurant that Celestino had personally vouched for when Phichit had reminded him about the trip.
“In addition to being the best figure skater in the world, are you also a skating coach and choreographer?”
Viktor’s reply was immediate and exuberant.
“I am! A skating coach and choreographer to two extremely talented athletes, that is. But given that I’m retired, I don’t know about being ‘the best’ anymore,” he said, before surveying him, shrewdly.
Yuuri had a sudden sense of foreboding around what his husband was about to say, and wondered how possible it would be for his blush to deepen even further.
“My Yuuri is the reigning Olympic Champion in Men’s Singles figure skating, as well as a 3-time World Champion, and a 2-time Grand Prix Final Champion!” Viktor crowed, looking directly at the camera and holding up 3 fingers on his right hand, and 2 fingers on his left. “His quad flip and quad lutz are better than mine ever were, plus he continues to have the most stunning spins and step sequences in the field!”
“He’s telling the truth, he really does believe that you’re the best, Yuuri,” Funmi confirmed, making Yuuri feel the urge to hide his head in his hands.
More cooing cut through the air, and he decided to offer a counterpoint.
“I know he’s not lying and that he actually believes that, but Vitya will always be the best, end of story…sorry to everyone else in the field, including our very good friends,” he commented, dryly, with a glance to the side at the spectating trio. “Oh, and he’s also wrong about my quads.”
Holding a hand up when Viktor made a clear attempt to retort, Yuuri hastily rushed onwards.
“Continuing on with the last calibration question,” he firmly announced, “are you married to me, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov?”
His rebuke seemingly forgotten, Viktor positively beamed. In response, Yuuri couldn’t resist stretching his hand across the table so that they could interlace their fingers.
“Yes! Very, very happily so, luchik2,” Viktor earnestly answered, hunching down a bit to press a kiss to his wedding ring (causing the seemingly unruffled Andressa to direct a very dreamy expression their way, which made Yuuri giggle).
“Is anyone else feeling horrified right now?” Yuri loudly interjected, prompting Kariesha and Otabek to let out highly spirited laughs. “For God’s sake, those were the calibration questions. This thing hasn’t even kicked off yet!”
Phichit’s commentary couldn’t have been more different in tone.
“I know, isn’t this excellent!? I already have like 4 different sappy clips for my Instagram reels!”
Yuuri ignored the two of them in favor of kissing Viktor’s hand in turn, and didn’t bother to lower his voice when he reciprocated the tender sentiment.
“Likewise, Viten’ka,” he replied, smiling warmly at him. “Getting to call you my husband is the absolute best part of my life.”
Yuri’s distinctly anguished moan was worth it for the look of gratitude that Yuuri was met with, and his heart fluttered as his favorite pair of eyes began to shine.
“Awww, I can already tell: this is going to be so, so sweet,” Funmi stage-whispered, sounding seconds away from fainting in overwhelm.
They turned in unison to grin at her, and then Yuuri directed his attention to the real questions he’d developed.
“Ok, starting off with question 1: am I a good person to live with?” he read off of the page, with a slight smirk.
“Wow, straight to the hard-hitting inquiries,” Viktor replied, his eyes widening a bit. “I thought we’d ease into it with a softball or two, but apparently not.”
Yuuri laughed, feeling delighted already, and made to let go of his hand.
“I think you’re a very good person to live with,” Viktor said, after which they both turned to Funmi, simultaneously.
She nodded her head.
“He’s telling the truth.”
Not that he expected differently, but Yuuri decided to use the question as a jumping-off point.
“Are there things I do around the house that annoy you…like, habits I have, pet peeves?”
His husband tilted his head in consideration and seemed to be mulling things over.
“I wouldn’t say the list is long, but yes, there are,” he finally responded. “Just as I’m sure there are things that I do, in turn.”
Yuuri grinned at the diplomacy, but then gave him an expectant look.
“Ok, well…you already know this, but I can’t say I’m a fan of some of your laundry duty habits,” Viktor stated, looking mildly horrified.
Phichit immediately laughed, and then called out in commiseration.
“I knew you’d say that! Even now, Yuuri is very against checking care instruction labels, isn’t he? Back when we lived together, I saw some things, let me tell you…”
His voice faded away, and he adopted a pensive expression, as if he were pondering the horrors of war.
As Yuri and Otabek laughed loudly, Yuuri gave a sheepish smile. It was true that when it came to him versus Viktor taking on this particular chore, there tended to be a dramatic difference in the amount of their clothing that was forever lost due to negligence in checking the garment care instructions.
“That’s quite fair,” he allowed, before looking directly at the cameras. “While it’s normally not a huge deal if our workout clothes get ruined when I’m on laundry duty, the same can’t be said for our fancier attire. Once we became a couple, my wardrobe’s level of poshness went up by 300 or 400 percent, at least. Prior to 2016, I didn’t own a single designer suit, but things are quite different now…Vitya insists on spoiling me, insisting I have a different one for each day of the month.”
He directed a pointed look at Viktor, who immediately donned an “innocent” expression.
“What? Why shouldn’t I spoil you?” he asked, pleading via puppy-dog eyes.
Yuuri rolled his own.
“In any event, it’s better for everyone if he’s in charge of our clothing, which of course includes our top-tier drycleaning services,” he went on.
“Shoutout to Ritsu and Kyoko at Elegance Dry-Cleaning!” Viktor chirruped, his face transforming in rapid fashion. “If you’re ever in the Fukuoka area and need expert dry-cleaning or tailoring, they’re the only ones for the job!”
Over the last two years since their move to Fukuoka, his spouse had gotten to know several of the local business owners quite well, and Yuuri always found it extremely endearing when Viktor came home with stories about Kyoko’s cats, or exciting new developments in Ritsu’s dating life. The two friends/business owners would almost certainly watch this video at some point, so Yuuri turned to the cameras and waved.
“Hi Ritsu-san, hi Kyoko-san,” he called out. “Thank you for making our lives easier, and for allowing Viktor’s stress levels around our laundry to remain at non-lethal levels!”
Viktor giggled, and Yuuri turned his attention back to the question list.
“Question number 2: Before you retired in March 2018, you were coached for nearly seventeen years by a rather legendary pairs skater for the Soviet Union. The one, the only Yakov Feltsman.”
Phichit loudly whooped off-camera as Yuuri held up the printed photo of Yakov, taken during a gala exhibition rehearsal at the 1970 World Figure Skating Championships in Yugoslavia. At that competition, Yakov and his longtime pairs partner, Irina Rodnina, had secured their third World’s gold medal win and would continue on to receive one more prior to their joint retirement in 1973.
Yuuri watched with amusement as his husband seemed to be trying his very best not to laugh at the heavily embellished, voluminously sleeved costume that his (much-younger) coach was sporting.
But his effort was in vain, and the two of them broke out into strident, squawking laughter as soon as Viktor’s eyes locked with his own.
“Oh, my g-goddd, how have I never seen this photo?!” he questioned, his shoulders shaking with the force of his mirth. “Why did he or Irina ever agree to sleeves like that, and why is there gold detailing on his knees, too?! He would hate everything about this, now. Yura, come quick!”
Yuri made a questioning noise from the sidelines, and Andressa gave a nod, after which they began to beckon all three of their friends over. He and Viktor were mostly incoherent due to their giggling fit, so there was a lot of frantic waving going on in-between heaving laughs and gasps.
“Bozhe moy3 , this might be the best day of my life,” Yuri reverently whispered, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. “How could he say that my gala costume from two years ago was ‘too showy’ when he once skated wearing this?!”
In the very next moment, he was whipping out his phone and making Otabek take a picture of him posing next to it. Phichit then followed, insisting on a few different shots with varying facial expressions.
Needless to say, it wasn't until several minutes later that Yuuri was able to turn his attention back to the game.
“Well, as they say: it was a different time,” he stated, with overt grandiosity. “March 1970, to be exact, and this was for his and Irina’s gala skate, after they got their third gold at World’s. So. My question for you, Vitya: if you had to wear this exact same costume, do you think you’d be able to pull it off better than the legendary Yakov Feltsman?”
Viktor continued to laugh even as he seemed to be pondering the question for real, and Yuri and Otabek could still be heard whispering excitedly, off-camera.
Viktor eventually sighed, looking vaguely forlorn.
“It really does wound me to have to admit this, but the answer is no: I don’t think I could pull this off better than Yakov,” he replied, shaking his head with mock-sadness. “Putting aside the fact that I don’t necessarily want to be able to pull it off, you have to consider that his hair color – which you really can’t discern these days, given the balding – looks much, much better with gold tones than mine does. The silver clashes, you know?”
He began to toss his head, whipping his ponytail around, and Yuuri laughed, looking to Funmi.
“He’s telling the truth,” she confirmed, with a grin.
He flashed her a matching one and set the photo of Yakov aside, making a mental note to get a picture posing beside it for his own camera roll.
“Moving on to question 3…no lies so far, so I’d say you’re off to a strong start,” Yuuri noted, after which Viktor beamed.
“In an interview, you were once asked to describe us as a couple in ten words or less, and you replied with the following: ‘lovesick fools who act like the honeymoon period never ended’,” he read off, smiling at the cute chirping sound his spouse made in response. “Ironically, that interview was conducted just before our April 2019 honeymoon. Would you say those words still describe us, even now?”
“YES!” Yuri abruptly bellowed from off-camera, making the filming crew laugh, uproariously. “Emphasis on the word ‘FOOLS’!”
“Also, ‘SICK’!” he added a second later, as an afterthought.
“He’s right, of course, anata4 ,” Viktor answered, blowing Yuri a kiss (which was met with a fierce flip of the bird). “Two years later and we’re still giddy idiots around one another. Maybe even gidd- ier idiots.”
“I agree, Viten’ka,” Yuuri replied, not at all minding the return to their earlier sappiness.
Their smiles matched in softness as they looked at each other for a long moment, and it was only Andressa’s slightly exaggerated cough that brought them back to reality.
Yuuri could feel the swirls of pink from before reblooming on his cheeks, and wondered how long it’d take for their fans to make a compilation of every single one of his red-cheeked moments.
“On to question 4,” he said, trying to make his voice sound normal. “Last year, you said in an interview that if you had to pick a famous actor to play you in a movie about your life in the present day, that you would pick English actor Jamie Campbell Bower.”
Yuuri paused to hold up the accompanying photo of Jamie, the same one from his Fandom Entertainment Wiki page.
Kariesha gave a flustered-sounding “oooh”, and he had to stifle the laugh that threatened to spring forth at the very honest reaction.
“Do you think you’re better looking than Jamie?” he read off, to the immediate sound of more oooh -ing, but of a very different flavor: it was clear that the filming crew was going for provocation.
He smirked, knowing that they were underestimating Viktor’s propensity for bluntness. While his husband definitely had insecurities, his overall attractiveness was not one of them.
“Yes, I do!” he cheerfully responded, making Yuuri promptly burst out laughing.
Only a split-second later, Viktor’s eyebrows were furrowing, and it seemed that he was realizing he might need to make an important clarification.
“I mean, it’s close,” he hurried to say. “I’m not trying to make it seem like there’s a chasm of difference between the two of us, but if the question is about relativity, then yes, I do think my features are more attractive.”
In unison, they both looked at Funmi.
“That’s true,” she stated, with a knowing sort of smile.
“Uh oh…do you think I’m going to get hate on Twitter for having reacted like that?” Viktor mused, beginning to tap his lips in his signature gesture.
“Look at it this way, old man: you might be more attractive, but a hell of a lot more people know who Jamie Campbell Bower is. In fact, if most people who don’t know about sports saw a picture of you, they might be led to assume you’re a wannabe-fan of his,” Yuri called out, jerking away from Otabek’s jabbing elbow.
“...thank you, Yura, you always know exactly what to say,” Viktor called out, dryly, before his features took on a shrewd cast.
“More importantly, my Yuuri, do you think I’m more attractive than Jamie Campbell Bower?” he asked, his striking gaze boring into his own.
“You know I do,” Yuuri responded, with a hint of chiding. “I’m pretty sure I even told you that right after you finished that interview.”
“Yay!! Just checking!” Viktor exclaimed, looking unfairly cute as his heart-shaped smile surfaced. “After all, I have to make sure that I’m keeping up with my husband, who is the most attractive person in the world!”
Very unnecessarily, Funmi decided to cut in.
“He really does mean it when he says that, by the way.”
“Awww, of course he does!” Phichit suddenly interjected, before he could respond. “In fact, one time when we were all drunk last summer, Viktor once said that he’d still think Yuuri was the most attractive person in the world even if he didn’t have thighs that could crush someone’s head to a pulp.”
“PHICHIT!”
Yuuri’s face flamed, and he wished he had some sort of loose object nearby that he could throw at his best friend.
“Ooooh, an excellent point, Phichit,” Viktor proclaimed, his eyes lighting up with something close to realization. “And what a beacon of hope, too! Because that actually reminds me: Jamie Campbell Bower might have more fans than I do, but I bet I have stronger thighs than him!”
“Is that the real takeaway of all of this?” Otabek could be heard murmuring, a sentiment Yuuri wholeheartedly agreed to.
“Moving on!” he all-but-shouted, wondering if now would be a good time to rescind the invite they’d extended to their friends to join for this filming session.
“Ok, question 5, Vitya. Purely in a non-coaching capacity – as in, for your own enjoyment – do you watch my skating performances when I’m not around?”
Viktor let out a wounded-sounding gasp.
“Of course I do!” he cried, actually appearing a bit hurt by the question.
“I know you do, baby, don’t worry,” Yuuri reassured. “To which I ask: which routines do you find yourself watching the most? Only my solo skating counts, so excluding our pair skates for galas and ice shows, tell us your top 3.”
“Well, ‘Yuuri on Ice’ is definitely right at the top, because it was our beginning, and it’ll always mean so, so much to me,” his husband readily replied, holding up a finger. Plus, there’s also the fact that you won your first World Championship title with it. For those that didn’t see his performance in Helsinki from March 2017, please go watch it! It’ll take your breath away!”
Yuuri’s cheeks continued to burn, but he nodded, happily, remembering the surreality of the day that he’d shared the podium with Viktor for the first time, over four years ago.
He had no idea that the first time he’d step atop a World’s podium would be from a vantage point higher than the man he’d looked up to for over half of his life.
His then-fiance had sobbed nearly all throughout the receipt of his own bronze medal, and a few of the typically more sensationalist media outlets had tried to put a clickbait-y spin on Viktor’s display of emotion, claiming it to be the Living Legend’s “dismay” over the end of his winning streak. It was a ridiculous assertion, particularly given the ample number of photos that captured his jubilant, tear-streaked face, as well as how he’d draped himself all over his shoulders once Yuuri had pulled him and Otabek to join him on the top step of the podium.
And, of course, he, himself, hadn’t been able to keep from bawling his eyes out when he’d seen the look of fierce pride on his coach’s face when the medal ceremony officials had draped the gold around his neck.
“Second choice would be your PyeongChang Free Skate set to the Princess Mononoke medley,” Viktor went on, holding up a second finger. “Not only were the step sequence and choreo sequence so equally stunning and differing in tone, but you challenged yourself so much with the jump composition. And you made history with it, Yuranya!”
Yuuri’s chest swelled with warmth at the gushing praise.
He truly had poured his heart into his 2018 Winter Olympics choreography, and had set an ambitious jump goal for himself, in addition: given his mastery of the quad flip by the end of the 2016-2017 season, he’d wanted to be figure skating’s first athlete to land it in combination, and had worked extensively on the goal during the 2017 off-season. His efforts had paid off5 when he’d debuted the jump at the Games, and the quad flip/triple-toe-loop had come to be known as the ‘Katsuki Combo’ in recent years.
“And last but not least, would be your Free Skate performance last year, at the 2020 Grand Prix Final,” Viktor went on, his eyes beginning to look a little wet.
Yuuri’s breath lodged firmly in his throat, as he quickly caught on to the reason for Viktor’s heightened emotions.
Prior to his Olympic win, Yuuri had never dreamed that he might one day be brave enough to bare his soul by skating to a routine meant to portray his battles with anxiety. But getting through the PyeongChang Games had fundamentally changed him as an athlete, so when he and Viktor had begun to work on his choreography for the 2020-2021 season, the idea of it felt within reach.
Once he’d managed to find what felt like the perfect song– one with a deceptively happy melody, extremely telling lyrics, and a very frenetic change of tone that resembled the disorientation and sense of exposure he often experienced during a panic attack – it had felt like one of the most honest programs he’d ever crafted.
And the specific performance Viktor was referring to was quite fitting, thematically.
“My Yuuri spoke about it at the post-skate press conference,” Viktor murmured, looking right at the camera. “That whole morning had been difficult for him in terms of his anxiety, and he’d suffered a bad panic attack only two hours before having to take the ice. So…was that performance his best rendition of it?”
After Viktor had raised this rhetorical question, Yuuri leaned across the table so that he could cup his cheek, and smiled when he pressed a kiss to his fingertips.
There was complete silence off-camera.
It was rare but there were, indeed, times when Yuri had enough sense not to mock them.
“Technically speaking, no, it wasn’t,” his husband went on in answer, his tone changing so that his next words were imbued with such raw feeling that it almost made Yuuri want to look away.
“But it was the most heartbreakingly honest iteration of it that I’d seen since we’d first developed it, together,” he continued, his eyes brimming. “After his panic attack, I remember asking him if he was ready to leave the bathroom that we’d retreated to, and he said that he wasn’t, but that he’d choose to fight, anyway…because he wanted everyone to see that he hadn’t given up.”
Viktor paused, and though his final words were quieter, they were no less sincere.
“I think I was more proud of that bronze medal than any other that we’d won, together.”
Yuuri found himself growing a bit choked up, in turn, and leaned over to reach for the backpack he’d brought with him. When he passed over the Makka tissue box holder, Viktor reached out to take it with a grateful smile, and there were a few long moments where they both dabbed at their cheeks.
When Yuuri swiveled his head to look around at the filming crew, he was a bit embarrassed to see the sheer number of people that seemed to have been similarly moved.
“How about a break, you two? We can show you the snack table, reapply your makeup and all that,” Andressa called out, causing him and Viktor to exchange guilty looks over the ruination of their once-perfect makeup.
“Don’t worry,” Funmi spoke up, kindly. “We’re very pro-feelings around here. Go ahead and let it all out."
…
“Ok, Vitya, we’re now 70% of the way through,” Yuuri announced, actually having to rub his sides a little with the way they were aching from laughter.
Somewhere around question nine – in our last fan Q&A for our YouTube channel, someone asked you if you think you can make katsudon better than I can, to which you answered: “of course not! When my Yuuri cooks katsudon, it’s almost as good as his mom’s!” Were you telling the truth? – Yuri had convinced Otabek to accompany him back to the snack table for a second round of munching.
They hadn’t seen the pair since.
Yuuri didn’t blame their friends for their scarceness, however; around 90 percent of Viktor’s turn in the hot seat so far had featured the two of them hooting with obnoxious laughter like giddy, drunken owls. He had to wonder how much of this footage was even usable.
He was also curious as to whether the Vanity Fair team would make Phichit sign something so that he wouldn’t have proprietary ownership of anything he could use for his own social media channels.
“Question number 15: I, Tonya, the mockumentary comedy starring the amazing Margot Robbie, came out in September 2017, and at one point, director Craig Gillespie said that he’d considered asking you to make a cameo in the movie. However, it dropped off of his radar when he heard you’d come to Hasetsu to be my coach, and assumed you’d be too busy in the summer of 2016 to fit it into your schedule.”
Yuuri paused, remembering how they’d gone with Mila, Yuri, and Georgi to see it three different times, back when they’d been living in St. Petersburg. During that first time, they’d actually been kicked out of the theater for laughing too hard, and not even Viktor’s name recognition could get them back in.
“Does any part of you regret coming to Hasetsu, knowing you could have made a cameo in the film, and possibly have met Margot?”
Viktor immediately thumped his hand on the table, a very troubled expression flitting across his face.
“Definitely not!” he pretended to snap. “What kind of ludicrous question is that, Yuranya?”
But Yuuri always had so much fun when it came to needling him, so he pressed on.
“It’s Margot Robbie, Vitya! Not even a teeny, tiny part of you regrets not having had the chance to be in it? Think of it this way, anata: if you’d been in I, Tonya, you might have ended up having more fans than Jamie Campbell Bower,” he joked.
“And how do you figure that? They’d have just made me be the zamboni driver or something,” Viktor promptly replied, almost making him do a spit-take given how he’d just taken a swig from his water bottle. “But if they ever chose to do another Blades of Glory movie, I would be mad if they didn’t ask us to star in it, together.”
Yuuri laughed in between coughs and nodded, thinking that that’d actually be pretty fun, even with how ridiculous (and not at all accurate) the skating in that movie was.
“Question number 16: Back in March 2017, I broke your World Figure Skating Championship winning streak, and we shared a podium for the first time, with your garnering of the bronze medal, Otabek garnering silver, and my garnering gold,” he read off, wishing their Kazakh friend was in sight so that he could flash his trademark two-thumbs-up gesture for the cameras.
Viktor sat up straighter, looking happy at the mention of the milestone.
“The next day, a very well-respected media outlet – that I’ve decided not to disclose the name of – ran a headline, calling me 'The Next Great Viktor Nikiforov',” Yuuri continued to read, smiling slightly. “Were you insulted by this assertion?”
An audible ripple of whispers ran throughout the room, and a certain tension now lingered in their surroundings. Yuuri already knew the answer Viktor would give, however.
“I absolutely was, lyubimiy,” he replied, prompting the whispering to grow louder. “But not in a way that some might try to spin it.”
Viktor paused and looked at the cameras head-on, and when he continued in that emphatic tone of his, it reminded Yuuri of the speech Viktor had given at his retirement party, when he’d spoken at length about that first blow to his winning streak.
“Calling my Yuuri ‘The Next Great Viktor Nikiforov’ was an insult to everything that makes him unique and special…everything that sets him apart from me. And there is a lot that sets Yuuri apart. If he skated exactly like me, then he wouldn’t skate like himself, and the world would miss out on such beauty, on the signature style that he brings to the ice that no one could possibly hope to replicate. Of course, I’m honored by anyone that is able to recognize the parts of my skating that live on in my husband, but to call him the next iteration of me diminishes his own intrinsic artistry.”
Hearing Viktor speak so commandingly never failed to make Yuuri shiver, and he smiled at him gratefully (as well as a little dazedly) even after he’d stopped speaking.
“YOU TELL ‘EM, VIKTOR!”
Phichit’s sudden cheering made them all laugh, and it was with a decidedly playful air that things progressed. It was fitting, given the next question.
“Question number 17: In Golden Skate’s annual vote on the ‘Best Ass in Men’s Singles Figure Skating’, you’ve wound up in the top 3 every year since the contest first began in 2013. That is, up until two years ago, in 2019. This happened to coincide with the year that I won.”
Yuuri paused, not quite able to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape him.
“Were you disappointed by that year’s results?”
Viktor’s gaze was steady and his answer swift.
“Not at all! A six year streak is pretty impressive, and if discerning fans the world over ended up developing a new set of criteria to make their ass -essments– ” (he and Phichit both snickered, loudly, at this wordplay) “ – then who am I to be so vain in claiming to know better? And for the record, I think it’s a travesty that you didn’t win prior to 2019.”
It was only a split-second later that Funmi spoke up.
“He’s lying.”
His husband gasped, the sound of breathy outrage a familiar one by this point.
“Funmi, how could you say such a thing?! And after I taught you earlier how to do an off-ice axel, too?!” Viktor lamented, literally flattening himself to the table in fake-woe.
It was true; during the latter part of their makeup reapplication/snack break, Otabek and Viktor had taken on the responsibility of teaching the majority of the production crew how to do off-ice jumps, and, unsurprisingly, Viktor had endeared himself to just about everyone on-set.
Funmi giggled, actually looking a bit apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Viktor, just doing my job,” she replied. “Though, I should note that the machine detected your deception early on, meaning that your lie was probably about being disappointed with not coming in the top 3, rather than what you’d said about thinking it was a travesty that Yuuri hadn’t won prior to 2019.”
Viktor popped his head up to glare just over his crossed arms, looking vindicated.
“Ok, there! You see? I don’t want anyone thinking I’m not a supportive partner!” he exclaimed.
“How could literally anyone think that, geezer?” Yuri jeeringly called out, suddenly reappearing on the sidelines with a family-size bag of Cheez-Its in either hand. “Katsudon could faceplant while crossing a room and you’d probably go all weak-kneed, clutching your hands to your chest while claiming it to be ‘the most graceful, beautiful fall! In fact, it was inspiringly reminiscent of my own descent into love!’...”
As his voice trailed off, Otabek joined Phichit in raucous laughter, which only seemed to increase in intensity when they took in Viktor’s highly unimpressed expression.
Yuuri felt that Yuri’s imitation was pretty spot-on, but patted Viktor's shoulder consolingly, nonetheless.
“Everyone knows how supportive you are, sweetheart,” he pointed out. “And besides, with my being both the 2019 and 2021 winner, I think my judgment is ahead of “the curve”, so to speak. Mark my words: 2022 will be the year that you “bounce” back!”
The feeble attempt to follow suit with his own wordplay was met with even more groaning, but Yuuri felt his corniness had been worth it, given how besottedly Viktor was suddenly looking at him.
“Awww, my punningly clever Yuranya!” he murmured, propping both elbows on the table and setting his chin in his hands.
He then proceeded to flutter his eyelashes in an overtly flirtatious manner.
“Ok, question 18,” Yuuri read out, utterly failing in his effort to keep the moony grin off of his face. “When Manifest executive producer Robert Zemeckis replied to your tweet last year about the show, you told him that it was your favorite series. However, only three days prior, you’d ranted to me about the direction things were heading in. In sucking up to Zemeckis, were you secretly hoping that he’d kill off lead actor Josh Dallas, after which he would offer you the main role, instead?”
Slightly taunting ooooh -ing noises resounded again among the filming crew members (who’d gotten increasingly vocal as time went on). But as before, Viktor didn’t seem the least bit worried. In fact, his countenance was as blithe as ever.
“I did!” he eagerly responded (causing the slightly-above-hushed murmuring to grow even more pronounced).
“Oh, stoppppp,” his husband called out with mock-sternness, swiveling his head around. “As if you all wouldn’t have done the exact same thing! Don’t get me wrong: I love Josh Dallas as an actor, but Ben as a character was getting so whiny and annoying. Everything was about “the life boat, the life boat!”, and meanwhile, his kids were-slash-are on the verge of a literal breakdown. He’s become insufferable ever since he got it into his head that he has to solve every single Calling single handedly. The sheer hubris leaves me aghast!”
Yuuri laughed along with Otabek (who was also a big fan of the show), and nodded his agreement.
“That’s very, very fair. Josh Dallas, if you watch this, no hard feelings,” he deadpanned for the cameras. “Our issue is with your character’s behavior, not your acting. Maybe tell the writers to chill out a bit when it comes to Ben’s mulishness? Oh, and another thing, if we’re talking about insufferable characters, we can’t not mention– ”
“Angelina!” Otabek cut in, with uncharacteristic fervor.
“Yes!!! Don’t even get me started on that witch!” Viktor added on, actually clutching his hands to his face, such was the extent of his passion.
Andressa, Kariesha, and several of the filming crew were openly laughing at this point, and it was clear that this little aside would probably make it into the final edit.
“Angelina also needs to die,” Viktor continued on, vehemently. “Every time she appears on-screen I lose even more of my heartbreakingly thin hair. Just ask Yusha! Whenever we watch an episode, I hold onto Goya like a stress ball and he always has to make sure I’m not suffocating her.”
“It’s true,” Yuuri confirmed, with put-upon gravity. “So, to the Manifest writer’s room: if you don’t want our poodle’s death on your conscience, please heed our suggestions. And with that…two questions remain, then my turn.”
Viktor instantly turned to Funmi (who was looking very flushed from laughing).
“Funmi, since we’re so close to the end, could you kindly remind everyone what my ratio of lies to truths has been?” he asked. “I’d just like it on the record that I am a man with a near- spotless conscience– ” (here, Viktor went back to zealously thumping the table) “ –a public figure of stunning integrity, a representative of elite athletics with– ”
“Funmi please, he’ll just go on and on if you let him, so feel free to speak up, anytime,” Yuri interrupted, sounding highly pained.
Funmi laughed at this interruption and glanced at the page where she’d been making her tabulations.
“Ok, so with two still remaining, out of the eighteen questions total, Viktor was only caught in a lie three times,” she pointed out. “If you do the math, that means he tells the truth 83 percent of the time. Not bad at all.”
“He tells the truth 83 percent of the time in front of the cameras,” Phichit called out, raising a finger in the air, imperiously. “However, just two days ago, Viktor lied about skipping part of Leo’s ice show rehearsal to go make out with his dear hubby in the locker room.”
“PHICHIT!” Yuuri shrieked for a second time, practically able to feel the moment his soul left his body.
He began to slump down in his seat from shame, and the fact that Viktor looked rather smug in comparison didn’t help matters at all.
His best friend didn’t even have the decency to look remorseful regarding his candor, his fingers resuming their usual flying over his phone keyboard with alarming speed.
“Don’t act like it hasn’t been all over Twitter anyway, Yuuri!” Phichit dared to remind him. “Nobody knows who posted the footage of you two emerging from the locker room, but my guess is some jealous saboteur from the show! Either way, I fully intend to get to the bottom of the leak!”
“As if that’s what we need: even more focus on it!” Yuuri cried out, a little incredulous around Phichit’s complete failure to grasp the point.
“You’d think they’d have learned by now, but they were so obvious about it, too,” Yuri gleefully piped up, talking with his mouth full of Cheez-Its. “Their training shirts were on inside out, and I’m pretty sure Katsudon’s pants– ”
“QUESTION 19!” Yuuri barked out hysterically, slumping even further in his seat so that only half of his burning face was visible over the tabletop.
“Aww, don’t be embarrassed, luchik,” Viktor cajoled, leaning forward to pat him on the head. “That makeout session did wonders for our performance…lots of our fans even said so!”
Even as he outwardly emitted a groan quite like an agitated whale, Yuuri could admit that Viktor was correct.
Leo’s ice show theme was “Reinvention”, and as such, many of them had put a new spin on some of their oldest and most popular programs. Even several years later, ‘Eros’ was still a fan favorite, so he and his love had decided to do a repurposed pair skate. The development of it last month had managed to get them pretty hot and bothered, and it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise that their need to work out their…urges…would have followed them overseas.
“Be that as it may, we are here today for an entirely un-eros reason,” Yuuri firmly stated, trying to wrestle some dignity back into his drooping form.
He sat up, just a bit, noting how Viktor had mirrored him.
“So, question 19,” he went on, thinking that he’d most certainly need his makeup reapplied (once again) before his own turn, if only to somehow get the permanent red staining his cheeks to look less vivid.
“Our ‘Skate Husbands’ YouTube channel recently ranked within the top 10 of a poll on the best athlete entertainment content, which included not only YouTube content, but also podcasts, and tv shows. In the aftermath, we got a flood of new subscribers, with many deeming us #couplegoals after hearing the story of our careers and relationship. Do you agree with this label, and do you think we’ll continue to be #couplegoals even after I retire, post-Olympics?”
Loud booing broke out off-camera, and Yuuri giggled, seeing how Phichit, Otabek, and Yuri had put on pronouncedly cross faces (presumably at the mention of his retirement, not the poll achievement).
“I know, I know, but it’s time,” he said, simply, echoing the sentiment he’d expressed just a few weeks ago, when he’d approved the statement that the Japan Skating Federation had sent out with the news.
He’d made his Senior division debut in August 2009, meaning he’d completed twelve years on the circuit.
It was a far longer period than Yuuri ever thought he’d be doing this, and while he, of course, knew it was first and foremost due to his own grit and tenacity, the end of this chapter of their lives was one that was just as much about Viktor as it was about him. They each had to grieve the change, and more than ever, it would be necessary to lean on one another while doing so.
He turned back to face his spouse and relished in the gentle smile he was wearing. It was sweet and content, and also a little bit sad.
“Of course I do, Yuranya: we’ll always be couple goals, no matter what,” he replied, and Yuuri’s heart began to ache at the hint of melancholy in his tone.
He was glad that there was only one question left, because he sort of wanted nothing more than to wrap Viktor up in a big hug.
“I don’t think anybody doubts it, but just to be thorough: he’s telling the truth,” Funmi piped up, after which they both laughed.
“I figured that he was,” Yuuri replied, feeling fond. “Which brings us to the very last question, Vitya, which is: at any point during this test, did you lie, and we failed to catch it?”
Viktor grinned.
“No! I have nothing to hide!”
A round of applause swept the room, and Yuuri grinned, in turn, as he watched Andressa give a countdown signal to the filming crew.
She’d let them know ahead of time that they’d get a break to stretch their legs before he had his turn, and he was glad that they wouldn’t be rushed; he really did owe his husband a hug.
End of Chapter 1
In Chapter 2, Yuuri takes a turn in the hot seat, and the chaos continues
Footnotes:
1. Romanized version of the Russian term of endearment translating to “beloved”; this endearment is gendered male
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2. Romanized version of the Russian endearment translating to “sunbeam”; this endearment is gendered male (...I can’t resist pet names with these two)
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3. Romanized version of the Russian expression translating to “oh my God!”, denoting great surprise/shock (though not necessarily in a bad way)
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4. Japanese term of endearment that is a bit old-fashioned, but used by Japanese wives for their husbands. My understanding is that it’s sort of the English equivalent of “dear”
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5. I write about this milestone in my 2018/2022 Olympic Games fic series, so if that sounds like something you might be interested in, I hope you’ll check it out
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