i see all your “viktor can’t cook but yuuri can” headcanons and i see your “actually, i bet viktor’s pretty good at cooking, and yuuri is the useless one” headcanons and i raise you “viktor and yuuri are both absolutely useless at various types of housekeeping and their first month in saint petersburg is a disaster.”
hear me out: obviously viktor didn’t feel any genuine happiness in between the ages of seven and twenty-seven (with one blip on the radar in sochi) and because of that he threw himself wholly into figure skating and never bothered to learn any relevant life skills like how to drive a car, how to pay his taxes, how to operate a vacuum cleaner… yuuri, on the other hand, knows how to drive an automatic and can keep a house passably clean if he wants to, but cooking? absolutely not. back home in hasetsu he’s always spoilt by hiroko’s cooking, and in detroit he was too busy training and studying to have a healthy lifestyle. it was all, like, college hall food and lean cuisine microwave meals. do they have lean cuisine in america? yuuri is also definitely a Notorious Skipper Of Meals, so sometimes he just… wouldn’t bother…
and now they’re living together in this upmarket flat and there comes a point when they realise that neither of them know how to play house. that point is precisely three days into their cohabitation, when they’ve barely left the house, not even for the rink, because it’s just been one marathon shag after another. the sink is stacked with unwashed dishes with stains from microwave meals and dirty glasses and there’s a stain on one of the rugs which neither of them remember happening and viktor, who has never spent so much time indoors, discovers he has a dust allergy. just about the only thing they’ve done is take care of makkachin and head out out for walks.
as much as they wish it could, their life cannot revolve around their dog, so they get to negotiating: they draw up a roster for chores, who does what when, and they venture outside to hit up a grocery store for proper fruit and vegetables (”there will be no scurvy in this household!” viktor declares), neglecting to check the weather, and end up caught in a snowstorm. their shopping is sodden and when they get back indoors all they want to do is get close to each other for warmth and, well, you can imagine how that ends.
so, cooking. they decide their first proper meal is going to be katsudon, because of its importance to them (a few minutes of viktor teasing yuuri about how sexy it is turns into an hour in the bedroom and a very late dinner indeed) and how hard can it be? yuuri’s seen his mum cook it heaps of times. they don’t need a recipe, what are you talking about, viktor. well, needless to say, it does not work out. they undercook the rice and it is barely edible. they overcook the pork and make an absolute dog’s breakfast of crumbing it. the kitchen looks like a war zone. yuuri has bits of egg in his hair. they end up ordering pizza.
over the weeks, they do get better at it. viktor wants to have another go at katsudon but yuuri decides that going from zero to hero is a bit amibitous, so they start small, making things like omelettes and soups and levelling up slowly. actually, cooking is one of the things that comes easiest, after they figure out how much fun it can be. the housework is another matter. since it’s been so rarely occupied, viktor’s flat is a dustbowl, and every time he tries to dust he has a sneezing fit and lies on the couch like a regency maiden, beleaguered by his life of drudgery. yuuri knows how to clean, at least, but he has an unfortunate habit of getting distracted halfway through, which to be honest is mostly viktor’s fault, for distracting him. and now that they’re going to the rink more often, they’re home less, so if there’s a pile of both their clothes at the foot of their bed, then that’s a problem for another day.
everything comes to a head when yakov comes over unannounced one friday evening and has to step over jackets and half-used dust cloths to get to the bathroom and he goes absolutely ballistic on them and installs himself on the couch, refusing to leave until they’ve tidied the place up. “what’s the problem?” viktor says. “just let him stay. he can cook for us.” yuuri gives him the long-suffering look of a man who is engaged to his childhood crush and is going to be in the honeymoon period for the rest of his life; he looks viktor dead in the eye and says, “vitya. we are not fucking with yakov in the other room.” the flat is cleaner than it’s ever been within two hours. yakov stays for dinner, and it’s all very pleasant and domestic, but viktor is suffering from some serious sexual frustration, and the moment yakov is gone he hauls yuuri into the bedroom and they stay in there for the rest of the weekend, barring taking makkachin out for walks.
but after that. after that, they make an effort. by the time they start to throw semi-regular (dinner) parties, it’s almost like they’re respectable housekeepers, and no-one is any the wiser.