he just makes me swoon

carry on, darling, we were built to last

“Yuuri,” Victor started to gain his attention. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?” Yuuri replied, a little uncertain because… since when did Victor ever ask for permission to barrage him with questions?

Tilting his head to the side in a way that made his silver hair swipe from his forehead, Victor looked at him with rapt interest.

“So now that we reminded you of the banquet last year…” Yuuri was already groaning before he even listened to the rest. “Can you tell me where you learned pole dancing?”

“Victor,” he whined, but Victor didn’t take it back.

“Come on, Yuuri,” he probed. “You looked amazing up there on the pole, I’m just curious.” And when that didn’t seem to work either, he added: “You know, spouses shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.”

And Yuuri was ready to die.

“Is it really that important?” Yuuri tried to wiggle out of it for the last time, with little success.

“I want to get some lessons, too,” Victor announced. “So that next time we can dance together! Wouldn’t that be super fun?”

Yuuri laughed, more of a choked coughing than laughter. Yeah, fun.

“I…” he finally started. “Okay, okay, fine. I can teach you. If you… want?”

“Yes, I’d love to!”

Before Yuuri could gather what was happening, Victor was holding him in his arms and crushing him in one of his famous bear hugs that left Yuuri winded for more than one reason. Just as Yuuri was bringing himself to return the hug, Victor was already moving away, skipping, all bubbling joy and smiles.

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile at him as well. There was just no way to resist it when Victor was this contagiously happy.

“Hey, hey, Yuuri,” Victor started again and Yuuri hummed to let him know he was listening. “We should install a pole at home. To practice with, you know.”

“Where would we even fit that–”

One look at Victor’s face was enough to tell him all he needed to know.

“Victor, no.”

“Victor, yes,” Victor said, almost making Yuuri laugh. Almost.

“I’m not moving to Russia with you,” Yuuri insisted like it was a conversation they already had countless times before.

And they did. Twice. Once when Victor was showing him around St. Petersburg, a careless comment made and laughed off. And once more in Barcelona, right before Yuuri took off to the rink at the Grand Prix Final. Really great timing, Yuuri thought with an embarrassed flush at the memory.

“But Yuuri–”

“You can move to Japan just as easily,” Yuuri cut the whine off with no shred of mercy. “You said it yourself, you love Hasetsu.”

Victor hummed. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”

Yuuri nodded, smiling a little. No, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not bad at all.

“So where would we put the pole?”

Yuuri groaned.  

“Oh, that made me think! Yuuri!”

Victor swirled in place and caught Yuuri by the arms. His eyes sparkled and shone so bright it was impossible to look away, but also blinding.

“My stag night!” Victor was all childish excitement and bright eyes, which made him so cute that Yuuri almost agreed to whatever he was going to say without thinking, but… “You’ll dance for me, right?”

His face must have betrayed his confusion, reluctance and sheer fear, because Victor’s smile widened. Just like Yuuri’s eyes did.

“It’s tradition, Yuuri,” Victor said.

And in that moment Katsuki Yuuri swore never to take a drop of alcohol in his mouth ever again. Because the consequences were haunting and Yuuri was scared for his sanity. For real.