Moscow (Part Two)
“Mister Nikiforov, was that child yours?”
“Mister Nikiforov, are you engaged?”
“Mister Nikiforov! Mister Nikiforov! Was that your bastard child?”
“How long have you been married, Mister Nikiforov?”
“Your wife, Mister Nikiforov, where is she?”
“Is it true you are fighting for custody of your child with its mother, Mister Nikiforov?”
He sat there stunned, listening to the shouts of reports as they bombarded him with questions. None related to the charity skate he had just done.
“ENOUGH,” Yakov declared loudly, causing the room to go silent, “We will only be answering questions about the charity event. No personal questions will be answered.” He glanced towards his coach, sending him a small smile before turning back to the crowd of reporters, plastering a smile on his face.
“Mister Nikiforov,” a young woman spoke up, raising her hand to catch his attention, “Did you do the charity event for your own child?”
Yakov let out a deep sigh while placing a hand on his shoulder.
“As I just said, no personal questions will be answered. Victor would like to keep his personal life personal,” Yakov spoke up again.
He knew people were interested in his personal life, as a sports star it was unavoidable. But he hadn’t been aware how quickly people jumped to conclusions.
Concluding he has a wife. That his child was sick. That he was fighting some custody battle.
“Mister Nikiforov,” a small voice spoke up, catching his attention. He smiled softly at the little girl that clung to the leg of one of the reporters in the room.
“Hi there,” he greeted, waving to the girl. The girl cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she shyly waved back.
“Um,” the girl started before glancing around nervously, “Mister Nikiforov, thank you for skating today.”
“It was my pleasure,” he ensured the girl, flashing her a bright smile, “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Yes!” the young girl declared with a nod of her head, “Especially when you jumped so high in the air!” He couldn’t help but chuckle softly and nod his head.
“Mister Nikiforov, do you have plans to have more children?”
“Do you plan to adopt, Mister Nikiforov?”
“Have you always been so good with children?”
Reporters started to pipe up, causing the young girl to shrink back against the person Victor concluded was her father or other relative. He sighed softly as he turned towards the reporters.
“That child today, wasn’t it the same one you tweeted about a month or so back?” One of the reporters piped up, catching his attention.
“Okay,” he sighed softly, “This will be my only statement regarding my personal life today. That child today, who I also tweeted about a little while back, is an angel that has stolen my heart, so maybe that makes him a devil.” He paused and hummed thoughtfully.
The room was silent for a moment before bursting into more loud questions regarding his Yuri. He sighed and glanced towards Yakov for help.
“If no one has any more questions about the charity event, Victor has some sick children to see,” Yakov declared. The room of reporters continued to shout questions unrelated to the charity event, ignoring Yakov completely. He sighed softly as he got to his feet and followed his coach out of the room.
“An angel, really?” Yakov asked as they made their way towards autograph session with all the sick children that were able to make it today.
“My little Yuri is an angel, Yakov,” he insisted while pulling out his phone and showing his coach a few pictures of Yuri cuddling with Potya. “I mean, just look at him,” he whined.
Yuuri chuckled softly as he gently ran his hands through Yuri’s hair as the boy slumbered against his chest.
The six-year-old had been at the crack of dawn, joining Nikolai to his morning walk to the corner store to pick up the morning paper and a few things for breakfast.
Yuri wasn’t good at sleeping when they were away from home, which often meant the boy crashed out during the day for a small nap.
“So cute,” a voice cooed, causing him to glance up and smile as Victor walked towards them, looking much more refreshed than he had after stepping off the ice.
“Hi,” he greeted, accepting the kiss Victor pressed against his lips.
“Hi there,” Victor said softly while sitting down beside him, “Sorry about the wait.”
“It’s fine. You gave Yura plenty of time to have a quick nap,” he chuckled while glancing down at the slumbering boy leaning against his chest. Victor chuckled along before gently leaving over and stealing the boy from his arms. He sighed softly as Victor cradled the boy to his chest seeming to deflate with the child in his arms.
“Okay, let’s get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Victor whined while getting to his feet.
“Did Yakov give you the all clear?” he asked as he followed Victor’s example and got to his feet.
“Yakov said, I quote, ‘I don’t want to hear another word about your angel, get out of my face’,” Victor told him with a cheeky grin.
He rolled his eyes while following after Victor as he lead the way to what he could only conclude was the exit.
“How did the interview go? And the autograph session?” he asked with a soft smile.
“The autograph session was lovely. The children were so excited to meet me.” Victor sent him a bright smile as he spoke, though the way he tightened his arms around Yuri didn’t go unnoticed.
“The interview didn’t go well?” he questioned, causing the smile to slip from Victor’s face. They walked silently for a moment before Victor came to a halt.
“The reports, they,” Victor paused and took a breath, “They jumped to so many conclusions. I’m sorry about what might be said.” He stared at his boyfriend in confusion for a moment before reaching out to place a hand on Victor’s shoulder.
“Why are you apologising?” he questioned softly.
“I just know the media, they say such horrible things,” Victor said with a pained look on his face. He frowned and opened his mouth to question the older man on what he meant, only to pause as he heard Yuri let out a small whine.
“Yurio,” Victor cooed while gently rubbing the boys back. Yuri let out a soft hum at the sound of his name before jolting awake at what Yuuri could only conclude was recognising Victor’s voice.
“Vicchan!” Yuri said sleepily while flashing a large smile.
“Hey Yura, hungry?” Victor cooed while smiling brightly at the boy.
“Yes!” Yuri declared rather loudly.
He stood there a moment, watching Victor as he happily chatted with Yuri.
What had the reporters said that had upset Victor so much?
“Who is Nikolai?” he questioned as he sat on the balcony of their hotel room with Yuuri curled up beside him, two glasses and a bottle of wine on the table in front of them.
“Yura’s grandfather,” Yuuri stated simply while cuddling into the blanket that he had brought out with them.
After a lovely dinner, they had come back to the hotel and put Yuri to bed – he now understood why Yakov had gotten him an extra room – and decided to enjoy some wine on the balcony. Yuuri had complained about the chill and dragged a blanket out with them to keep them warm.
“I thought your parents were in Japan,” he questioned his pretty danseur.
“Not my parents,” Yuuri said while shaking his head, “Yura’s grandfather.”
“Oh,” he said softly.
At the start, from what little Yuuri had explained to him, he had just concluded that the two Yu(u)ri’s were father and son, but over time, it had come to his attention just how unlike the pair were.
They looked nothing alike and though genetics were complicated, he doubted that a child would get no aspect of his father’s appearance.
“Should I be worried?” he questioned while draping an around across Yuuri’s shoulder.
“Why would you worry?” Yuuri asked while looking up at him.
“I am meeting Yura’s grandfather,” he pointed out.
“And I’m sure Nikolai will love you. I know Yura sure does because he had a lovely time telling Nikolai everything about you,” Yuuri chuckled while leaning up slightly to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. Yuuri flashed him a smile after his little show of affection before leaning over to grab one of the glasses of wine sitting in front of them.
“Do I also need his permission to marry you?” he asked curiously, causing Yuuri to let out an adorable squeak.
“Victor,” Yuuri whined while glancing back at him, cheeks flushed an adorable shade of red.
“What? I’m serious,” he ensured his boyfriend. Yuuri stared at him for a moment before ducking his head down in embarrassment.
“I mean, having his approval wouldn’t hurt,” Yuuri muttered softly while cuddling into his side again.
“So, I’ll get his approval than,” he ensured Yuuri while pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I’ll do whatever it takes to marry you.”
Victor clung to Yuuri’s hand as little Yuri excitedly knocked on the large wooden door in front of them.
He shouldn’t be nervous. Yuuri had ensured him that he shouldn’t be nervous, but his heart was pounding a mile a minute.
“Dedushka!” Yuri shouted, unable to contain his excitement as he started knocking on the door almost immediately after the original knock.
“Yura,” he called out softly, reaching out with his free hand to grab the boy around the waist and pull him a few steps back. “You got to let your dedushka get the door,” he explained while ruffling the boys head. Yuri stared up at him, a slight pout on his lips.
“But, Vicchan-” the boy started, only to pause when the door opened to reveal a rather stocky Russian man.
“Dedushka!” Yuri declared while slipping from his gasp and charging towards the man.
“Yurochka! Yurasha!” the man greeted loudly, scooping Yuri up into the arms as soon as the child collided with his leg.
“Afternoon Nikolai,” Yuuri replied while gently squeezing his hand, “Nikolai, this is Victor Nikiforov.”
“That’s Vicchan!” Yuri announced while flashing him a bright smile which he couldn’t help but return.
“Ah,” the older man replied while eyeing him closely for a moment, “Don’t stand there, get inside before you catch your death.” The old man said while waving them into the warm house and out of the Russian chill.
“Sorry,” Yuuri said while tugging him into the house.
“Dedushka! Dedushka! Are we having pirozhki?” Yuri asked while tugging on the man shirt. Nikolai let out a cheerful laugh while gently setting Yuri on the ground.
“I don’t know, Yurochka, I need a second pair of hands to make my pirozhki,” Nikolai said simply.
He watched Yuri closely as the boys light up in delight and he quickly starting jumping up and down in excitement.
“I’ll help, I’ll help!” Yuri announced while turning towards them.
“Well, seems you have a little helper,” Yuuri said, flashing a soft smile towards the boy.
“Yes! Come, Dedushka, we have to make pirozhki!” Yuri announced, grabbing his grandfather’s hand and pulling him towards what he figured was the kitchen.
He let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding when Nikolai disappeared with Yuri a few steps ahead.
“I told you not to worry,” Yuuri chuckled while gently squeezing his hand.
“I know, I know,” he chuckled while glancing towards his stunning boyfriend, who stared at him with the most gorgeous smile on his lips.
“I never asked if he was okay with,” he trailed off while waving his free hand around.
“With?” Yuuri asked, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “Me being gay?”
He flushed in embarrassment while nodding his head.
“Nikolai doesn’t care,” Yuuri stated simply.
“Oh,” he mumbled. Yuuri rolled his eyes with a chuckle before pulling him along after the Yuri and his grandfather. They found the pair reading through a book, rather seriously looks on their face.
“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked while letting go of his hand and approaching the pair.
“Papa, we don’t have enough flour!” Yuri announced, sounding devastated like it was the end of the world.
“Oh no,” Yuuri gasped, earning a serious nod of confirmation from Yuri in response.
“We need to get more flour, papa, or we can’t have pirozhki,” Yuri explained, “We have to go right now!”
“We don’t need-” Yuuri started, only to be cut off by Nikolai.
“I just need another bag of plain flour, Yurasha. The corner store sells them. It should only take ten minutes, if you wouldn’t mind getting some?” Nikolai stated.
“Please, papa!” Yuri begged.
“Sure?” Yuuri said with a nod of his head.
“Yes!” Yuri said while running over to his father, “Let’s go papa!”
“Okay, we will be right back!” Yuuri announced, eyes locked with his during the whole sentence.
“Be back, dedushka, Vicchan!” Yuri called out with a small wave before dragging Yuuri away.
He stood there a moment, staring after his Yu(u)ri’s before glancing towards the other male in the room.
Nikolai was staring at him, a serious expression on his face.
He now realised that the man had probably forgotten to get more flour on purpose.
“So,” Nikolai said while crossing his arms across his chest, “You are the man who is living with my Yura’s.”
“Yes sir,” he confirmed with a nod of his head.
“You don’t deserve him,” Nikolai stated. He blinked at the man’s comment, surprised by how quickly and simply the man stated it.
His first thought was to deny it – he did deserve Yuuri, or so he liked to think – but he was trying to impress the man. If he didn’t deserve Yuuri and his gorgeous son, who did?
“Does anyone deserve him?” he replied, earning a thoughtful hum from the older Russian.
“No, no one does,” Nikolai confirmed with a nod of his head. They stood there in silence for a moment, simply eyeing each other off.
“Is Yuuri, Yura’s father?” he asked, breaking the silence and causing the older man to arch an eyebrow.
“Yurasha is Yurochka father,” Nikolai stated.
“Blood father?” he questioned.
Nikolai stared at him silent for a moment before turning away from him and towards the oven.
“Yurasha is Yurochka father. It does not matter if they are blood or not,” Nikolai stated.
“Yuuri,” he paused. Yuuri loved Yuri with every fiber of his being, to the point that he didn’t question their bond at first glance.
He still remembered it. The panicked look on Yuri’s little face as his father lay on the ground, pale and unconscious. The boy had been so panicked it had taken quite a bit to calm him down, even after he had managed to get Yuuri back to his apartment and into bed.
“I don’t believe either of them could survive without the other,” he stated slowly and simply.
Nikolai stared at him for a moment before nodding his head in agreement.
“Those two have been completely inseparable from the start,” Nikolai said, letting out a soft fond sigh.
The silence overtook them again as they stood in different parts of the kitchen, not saying anything. Nikolai turned away from him momentarily to turn on the oven and do a few other things. He hesitantly shrugged off his coat and carefully draped it across the nearest chair.
“Victor,” Nikolai called out to him, catching his attention immediately.
“Yes sir?” he responded.
“You will look after them?” The question hung in the air for a moment, as they turned to face each other again.
“Yes,” he confirmed, nodding his head as he spoke.
“Look after them. Yurasha is too kind-hearted and my little Yurochka is too pure,” Nikolai said.
“I’ll protect them both to the best of my ability,” he ensured the older man.
“Thank you,” Nikolai said, moments before Yuri’s barrelled into the room with a bag of flower clutched in his hands.
“Dedushka, we got the flour! We can make pirozhki now,” Yuri announced while holding up the bag of flour.
“So, did you ask for my hand in marriage?” he asked Victor, eyeing the man closely as they climbed into their hotel bed on their final night in Moscow.
“I knew I forgot something,” Victor gasped, turning to him with a panicked look. He couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement at his boyfriend’s words.
“Really?” he questioned, earning a bright smile in response.
“Well, I didn’t ask for your hand. But I got something a lot better than permission to marry you,” Victor stated simply.
“Oh?” he questioned while moving to curl up beside his boyfriend under the covers, “And what is that?”
“His approval,” Victor replied.
“Approval for what?”
“To be with you,” Victor replied before kissing him gently on the forehead, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he replied, a bright smile on his face.
He was truly in love with this man.
Who adored his child and had now managed to gain the approval of one of the tougher people in his life, Nikolai Plisetsky. His parents would be a walk in the park for Victor after Nikolai.
“Goodnight, Vitya,” he mumbled while pressing a kiss of his own to Victor’s cheek.
“Goodnight, Yurasha,” Victor mumbled, causing him to gasp in surprise. “It is okay if I call you that, right?”
“Yes,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. He flushed in embarrassment while sending his boyfriend a smile, “I’m just not use to hearing anyone but Nikolai call me that.”
“Well, you are now also my Yurasha,” Victor mumbled quietly, tightening an arm around his waist.
“I can live with that,” he replied, speaking just as quietly as they settled down to sleep.
“Papa, Vicchan.” A small voice called out for them from the doorway of the room, causing him to let out a soft sigh as he shifted into an upright position.
“What’s wrong, Yurochka?” he asked softly as he stared at the boy who stood hesitantly in the doorway of the room.
“Can I sleep with you?” the boy asked while glancing behind him nervously. He glanced towards Victor who gave him a small smile that explained it all. Neither of them could say no to Yuri.
“Of course, Yurochka,” he said while opening his arms up for the boy. Yuri all but bolted onto the bed and into his arms, happily curling up between them without any prompting.
“Thank you, papa, Vicchan.” He smiled as he settled back down on the bed, unfortunately now a little too far away from Victor to be cuddled by the man.
“Goodnight, Yura,” Victor said, pressing a gently kiss to Yuri’s forehead, causing the boy to hum in delight.
“Goodnight, Yurochka,” he cooed, mimicking Victor by kissing the boy’s forehead as well.
“Night papa. Night Vicchan.”