Thanks for the anonymous reminder, whoever you are ko-fi nonnie. I totally got swept up in my work and life and getting back into the swing of writing (and hopefully finishing my fic) that I kind of forgot about my wonderful ko-fi donators. You guys really helped me out sooooo much and I’m forever grateful.
This goes out to @ladydrace for your 900-word donation that I extended to 1292, considering I took so long to get to this. It may not be as fluffy as you expected (I tried, I did, but I’m a angst writer haha), but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks so much, again, dear.
The first time Stiles says it, Derek nearly chokes on a spoonful of ice cream. Which would be a shitty way to die, especially all they’d had to face in the last few years. Especially as the big bad of the week had slowly evolved into the big bad of the month, and the last few months had been completely quiet.
Derek should’ve known to be prepared at any moment. Except, how could anyone be prepared for this?
“God, why aren’t we married yet?” Stiles groans out after taking a giant bite of his ice cream. A little of it spills down Stiles’ arm and he chases it with his tongue, and Derek nearly chokes on his.
He realizes he’s staring at Stiles, his spoon still stuck in his mouth. He quickly rectifies the situation, removing said spoon and giving Stiles one of his best eye rolls.
“Seriously,” Stiles continues, pretty much shoveling the ice cream into his mouth at this point. “If I knew you could cook like this, I would’ve proposed ages ago.”
“It’s not cooking, Stiles,” Derek says. Because that is the easiest thing to focus on. Instead of the way Stiles is moaning around each spoonful, a little dribbling out of his mouth which should not be doing things to Derek.
“You know what I mean.”
He finally looks up, his bowl licked completely clean. And Derek can see the moment his senses come back to him as he blushes and gently places the bowl on the counter in front of him like he hadn’t just had his face shoved in there. He glances mournfully at the hand crank ice cream machine Derek had just purchased.
Derek sighs, pushing away from the counter to pick up Stiles’ bowl and refill it with the remainder of the ice cream. Apparently it was a worthwhile purchase.
“Seriously, marry me?”
The second time it happens, Derek is no more prepared for the words, or the images they bring to mind. Images he could never allow himself to dream of because it’s too painful to know it will never happen.
Derek had just been settling into bed with a book he was keen to finish tonight when his phone went off, a ringtone he’d never heard before but had no doubt Stiles had somehow hacked his phone just to add a ridiculous tone for himself. And a quick glance to the screen only proves his point.
With a sigh, Derek leans over and picks up the phone, half tempted to just send him to voicemail. Instead, he answers.
“What do you want, Stiles?” he says in a voice he hopes sounds firm and put out.
“Heeeeeeeeeeeey, Derek,” Stiles singsongs from the other end of the line, like he is just as surprised Derek answered the phone.
Derek sighs again, already pulling back the bedding and grabbing his jeans. “Where are you?”
“Thas not how yersposed to answer the phooooone,” Stiles slurs out, ending with a giggle like he were sharing a joke with himself.
Derek can hear a pounding bassline over the other end of the line and is already running through all the possible bars Stiles could’ve snuck into. He had two more years. Why couldn’t he just be reasonable and just wait.
“I’m coming to pick you up,” Derek says, already halfway down his spiral staircase. “Tell me where you are.”
“Oooooh. My hero.”
It’s easy to pick Stiles out over the crowd as he is currently on top of the bar, attempting to dance against one of the pillars. Two of the bartenders are attempting to get him down while another stands back and laughs like this is a regular occurrence, which all Derek knows, it could be.
Before Derek can even cross the room and somehow get Stiles down from his makeshift strip show, Stiles notices him.
“Derek!!!” He shouts, taking one step off the bar and before anyone can do anything, he lands flat on his face.
Somehow, Derek manages to get Stiles into the passenger seat of his car and before he rounds the car to his own seat, he takes Stiles’ hand in his and drains a bit of the pain that Stiles might not feel at the moment, but will most definitely feel in the morning. He’s almost done when Stiles’ other hand lifts and brushes across Derek’s cheek, making him freeze on the spot.
“Will you marry me yet?” Stiles says, his voice oddly clear. He’s staring at Derek with absolute concentration, as if he could will Derek into saying yes.
Derek swallows, his throat having to work extra hard over the lump that seems to have suddenly formed. There’s something in his chest, attempting to crawl out, but he shuts it down. This isn’t…Stiles doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just….Stiles being Stiles. Stiles being drunk, whatever.
Derek schools his expression before gently rearranging Stiles and placing the seatbelt around him.
“Let’s get you home,” he says before closing the door and rounding the car, too quick to notice the way Stiles’ face pinches in pain.
“What do I have to do to get you to say yes?”
Derek nearly brings the hammer down on his hand instead of the nail that was halfway through the fence board he was attempting to repair. He has only a moment to marvel at the fact that Stiles can sneak up on Derek without any of his senses picking up on him, before Stiles is yanking on his shoulder and spinning him around.
His eyebrows are furrowed together, his lips a thin line, and Derek can honestly say he hasn’t seen Stiles this pissed since…he can’t remember when.
“What are…” What was he even talking about? Say yes? To what?
Thankfully Derek doesn’t have to find his words as Stiles is already running over them. “I’ve asked you nicely. Twice now. But you have yet to answer. And maybe I haven’t been the but I haven’t been subtle.”
Derek blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re out here fixing my dad’s fence without even being asked,” Stiles continues as if Derek hadn’t spoken. He’s waving his hands around in a way that makes Derek want to hold them down for everyone’s safety. “You made my absolute most favorite flavor of ice cream without me even asking. You drove twenty minutes out of your way to pick me up from a bar because I was too shitfaced to drive home. How the hell am I supposed to keep my emotions at bay with you doing everything in your power to test them?”
“Would you just marry me already?” Stiles says in a huff, full on glaring at Derek by now.
Stiles looks about ready to go into another rant when the words finally process. He freezes. “O…okay?”
A small smile spreads across Derek’s face. Who knew he could ever actually make Stiles speechless.
“Yes, okay. I’ll marry you.” He takes advantage of Stiles’ stunned silence by pulling him in closer until they’re pressed together from thigh to chest. His smile grows as Stiles’ eyes widen and his breath catches. “But we might want to consider going on at least one date before we do.”
“You…you better not be playing around,” Stiles breathes out. He tries to make it sound teasing, but Derek can see the uncertainty in his eyes.
“I’m not if you’re not,” Derek says, leaning his down ever so slowly, giving Stiles time to pull away.
Stiles’ eyes drop to Derek’s mouth as his tongue unconsciously comes out to wet his lips. God, he’s wanted this for so long.
“It’s a date, then,” Stiles says on a breath, his eyes never leaving Derek’s lips.
The first time it happens, Victor is standing on the ice
watching Yuuri quietly work through the step sequence for the Eros routine.
Yuuri’s head is bowed toward the ice, his hands are fluttering next to his body
and his movements are subtle as he thinks through whatever is bouncing in his
head. Victor is drawn to the way Yuuri looks, the concentrated focus of Yuuri’s
eyes paired with the dream-soft actions make up the beautiful contrast of Yuuri
He can’t help it. Yuuri is a constant source of gravitational
pull and Victor never has the strength to resist. Gliding next to his skater,
Victor reaches out and touches Yuuri’s shoulder. When the smiling brown eyes
peer up at him, Victor’s feels his heart skip a beat. Yuuri says something with
a blush that Victor can’t hear through the sudden influx of heartbeat drums in
The words are muffled against the gloved fingers Yuuri is
drumming against his own lips as he says them again and Victor blinks. “What?”
he asks, confused smile on his face.
“Nothing,” Yuuri sighs as he hits play on the remote and
slaps it back into Victor’s hand. As the whirl of action begins in front of
him, Victor is already forgetting about it.
The crowd was roaring around them. It had been a spur of the
moment decision, made as Victor had run toward the opening of the rink. Yuuri
had attempted to quad flip, Victor’s heart had quad flipped in his chest, and
now all he wanted to do was kiss the hell out of his boyfriend.
He took a single breath, resting on the barrier wall as he
heard Yuuri call his name. Bringing his head up, Victor smiled seeing the
elation on Yuuri’s face. Then he was leaping, tackling Yuuri onto the ice as
Victor tried to protect Yuuri’s head and kiss Yuuri’s lips at the same time.
Yuuri tasted of Victor’s chapstick and a hint of salt. It was a taste Victor
loved and craved at every moment. Pulling back they exchanged brief words
smiling at each other as if no one else existed. In that moment, it was only
them, pressed flat on the ice, two hearts beating in syncopated rhythm.
A small skater appeared above them, her grin accompanied
with a slight blush to her cheeks. Laughing, Victor stood and carefully pulled
Yuuri to his skate-covered feet. Hips banging together, they clumsily made
their way off the ice and toward the kiss and cry. Brows coming together,
Victor looked down at Yuuri’s smiling face. “Did you say something?” Victor
swore he had Yuuri’s voice, but the crowd was still a deafening force around
“It’s…” Yuuri trailed off, cheeks becoming scarlet as he
shook his head, “thank you.” He finished, wrapping his fingers around Victor’s
as they sat down on the bench.
If there was a more stubborn person than Yuuri Katsuki,
Victor hadn’t met them. Planting two feet on the ground, Victor wrapped his
hands around the comforter on the bed and dragged his skater onto the floor.
With a thud, Yuuri hit the ground. Hushed curse words hissed out while Yuuri yanked
the blankets from Victor, rolling into the infamous Yuurito.
“Practice, Yuuri,” Victor huffed, his bangs fluttering over
his forehead as he bent down over the snuggled lump. “Yuuri, get up, seriously…”
Flopping on the ground in defeat, Victor poked Yuuri’s side with his foot. “Honestly…”
Before the rest of Victor’s speech about determination to
win and perseverance could tumble from his mouth, he was engulfed by blankets.
Yuuri’s warm arms pulled Victor into a cuddle pile on the floor, nuzzling
against Victor’s neck with a whisper of words tickling Victor’s collarbone. “Yuuri…”
Victor whined, not hearing what was said but giving into his frustrating and
adorable boyfriend nonetheless.
The light was filled with glinting gold, reflecting the
hints of the same color in Yuuri’s watering eyes. Despite the choir and the
ringing bells, Victor felt the world narrow to the two of them, breath catching
as Yuuri pulled the glove from Victor’s hand.
Beautiful words, ones that Victor would remember for the
rest of his life passed between them. His chest was so full of love, Victor
swore Yuuri’s heart had joined his own inside of him. Victor pulled Yuuri into him,
holding his favorite person and now his fiancé against him in a silent thank
you for everything. When Yuuri looked up, Victor let a single tear slide as the
choir began to sing and Yuuri’s lips moved with barely audible sound.
Understanding without hearing, Victor leaned down to kiss his love.
Barcelona was filled with thunderous applause as Yuuri struck
his final pose in the middle of the ice. He was beautiful and perfect, and
Victor wanted to scream about it to anyone who would listen. That was his skater
and his fiancé who had skated the most incredible routine and Victor was ready
for another Cup of China kiss.
He saw Yuuri hesitate though. Victor noted how Yuuri looked
at him, pausing briefly before skating off the ice and into Victor’s arms.
It was their discussion the night before, one that had
lasted far too late without finding a resolution that was still between them
now. Victor wanted that wall gone, and as soon as Yuuri’s score was announced,
he swung the verbal sledge hammer.
Watching Yuuri skate, Victor’s decision had crept in,
settling at the front of his mind and tap dancing there until it could escape
into Yuuri’s ears. The flush of Yuuri’s cheeks and the bright smile, told
Victor his decision was the right one. As Yuuri tucked his chin onto Victor’s
shoulder, Victor heard the rush of Japanese words against his ear. He wanted to
know what Yuuri was saying, but instantly they were surrounded by reporters and
he never got the chance to ask.
The hallway was dim as Victor stood leaning against the
wall. Nerves were not usually a part of his routine before skating, but this
program was going to be different. He smiled down at his costume knowing that
Yuuri would appear any moment in the blue version.
It had been Victor’s idea, a mind bee buzzing rapidly in his
brain as he had waited for Yuuri to return to Japan. Recalling the night in the
ice rink, when Victor had first showed Yuuri the bones of the program, a warm
feeling flooded his body. He couldn’t wait to see Yuuri now, and regretted his
idea about getting dressed in separate parts of the locker room.
“How do I look?”
Victor pushed from the wall. Yuuri looked like a prince in
his blue costume with his hair slicked back and his playful smirk pulling at
his lips. “Stunning, my love.” Victor closed the distance and pressed his lips
“Victor…” Yuuri pulled back, lacing their fingers together
and pulling Victor toward the opening to the rink, “we are going to be late.”
Yuuri was right, but Victor couldn’t resist yanking him back
again for one more kiss. Parting with a laugh, their hands stayed intertwined
as they took their place at the barrier.
The announcer signaled it was time for Yuuri to take his
place. Releasing Victor’s hand, Yuuri skated onto the ice. Before Victor could
internally lament about missing his fiancé, Yuuri was racing back towards him.
Victor let himself be tugged into Yuuri, the barrier wall uncomfortably smashed
between them. Yuuri was saying words in his ear that Victor couldn’t hear and
then pulling away to race back to the middle of the ice.
“YUURI!” Victor called, feeling the insatiable need to know
exactly what Yuuri had said. “What did you-”
“I said I LOVE YOU!” Yuuri yelled, winking as he set himself
in his starting position.
At his place on the side, Victor felt his heart flipping as
the tears stung his eyes. The nerves disappeared in a cloud of hearts, and
suddenly, Victor couldn’t wait to get on the ice with his Yuuri.