Everything is finally unpacked. Sure, some of it’s shoved into drawers that will have to eventually be organized, and it’s probably more than a little lazy - he didn’t even bring that much stuff with him, other than clothes, medals Viktor made him promise to bring (even the little plastic participation one from his first ‘competition’ at the ice castle that his mother had dug up, along with a book full of embarrassing photos, at one point of Viktor’s stay at the inn), and a few other trinkets.
Still, he had just been on a nine hour flight only yesterday and hadn’t gotten in as long a nap as his usual jet lag power nap, so he was willing to cut himself some slack.
With a satisfied sigh, he flops back onto Viktor’s - onto their bed. He can hear Viktor moving around out in the kitchen; washing dishes from the dinner that he had insisted on cleaning up after himself, so Yuuri could finish unpacking. The apartment’s still cold from the biting Russian winter that they’d let in earlier, forced to air out the room after their go at cooking a meal ended up burnt when they’d gotten a little distracted by each other - they’d ended up ordering take out, which they really should have done in the first place.
And now he’s done, all alone in their bed, in their room, his fiance out cleaning up the kitchen in their apartment when he should be in here.
He gets up and walks out to where Viktor is finishing up drying off the dishes and snakes his arm around Viktor’s waist so he’s pressed against the man’s side - more contact than he’d usually initiate without gauging Viktor’s permission, but he also loves the surprised blush that lights up Viktor’s pale face whenever he does.
Sure enough, there’s a light blush on Viktor’s face as he turns and leans down to capture Yuuri’s lips into a soft kiss.
“Hello,” Viktor says, pulling away, his voice soft and warm in a way Yuuri could listen to forever. Yuuri barely manages a responding hum before he’s reaching up to press another kiss to Viktor mouth. They stand there like that, softly kissing each other, for long enough that it probably looks silly, but Yuuri hardly cares, even as Viktor’s wet hands slide onto his waist.
Makkachin barks out the window at the street below, and they pull apart.
Viktor is still pressed against him, and Yuuri enjoys Viktor’s warmth seeping onto him, reminding him of what he wanted to do in the first place.
“Vitenka,” he says - Viktor’s cheeks turn red again at the nickname - and Yuuri tries to muster up all of so called eros that Viktor assures everyone he has - though he’s admittedly better at mustering it up on the ice, or when he’s not actually trying - into his words, “I’m cold.”
‘Maybe you should warm me up’ is on his tongue, but he doesn’t get the chance to say it as Viktor pulls Yuuri closer to him. “Yuuri,” he whines, “You aren’t wearing enough clothes! I know I told you to pack your warmest clothing, but I guess I didn’t really make the point.”
Viktor pouts, spinning Yuuri around and leading him toward the bedroom, grabbing some of his own fleece pajamas to bundle Yuuri in.
“We’ll have to go shopping for warmer clothes later this week - it actually gets colder in February.” Viktor tells him, once he’s pulled Yuuri into the bed and underneath three heavy blankets, something Yuuri doesn’t even protest to - this might not have been the way he was imagining Viktor warming him up (not that it was even that cold) but he was tired from the flight yesterday and unpacking, so he wasn’t going to object to snuggling up to his fiance, the man pressing kisses to his lips as he outlined the stores where they’d find the best warm clothes, Makkachin curled up against his legs.
They go to practice the next day - they have competitions coming up, after all. Viktor insists on bundling Yuuri up; he pulls out his warmest coat, gloves, hat, and scarf, even though the coat and gloves are too large on Yuuri, and the walk from the car they drive to the rink is less than a minute long.
Yurio bursts out laughing when they walk in.
“Why is Katsudon wearing like fifteen layers.” Yurio says in between guffaws, before stopping, a look of glee on his face, and whispering, “Sosiska v teste.”
“What?” Yuuri asks, not understanding the Russian to be any of the little bit he’s learned from Viktor (or any of the even smaller bit he’d learned when he was 13) - after he’s unwound the insanely large scarf so he can actually talk. Viktor, meanwhile, whines out a disappointed, “Yurio.”
Yurio starts laughing again. “You’re a - you’re a pig in a blanket.” He seems way too happy with himself over this, and his laughter draws over two other skaters who have just walked into the rink.
“Whats going on?” The girl asks - Mila, Yuuri remembers, having met her at the Grand Prix Final banquet, and he recognizes the man as Georgi; both from skating with him at the Cup of China, and from Viktor’s stories of the dramatic man.
“He’s a,” Yuri starts again, pointing with rude glee at Yuuri.
“A pig in a blanket, yes, you’re very clever.” Yuuri sighs. This is not exactly how he planned on his first day at his new skating rink to go. Also, he’s starting to get hot, both from the attention and from the fact that he’s only managed to get the scarf off at this point.
“Yuuri isn’t used to Russian winters, yet,” Viktor looks over at Yuuri as he says the last word with enough warmth to thaw even the coldest Russian winter, “and I don’t want him getting sick! So he had to borrow some of my clothes.”
Mila smiles at Yuuri in the way you smile at a cute dog in a sweater, Yurio gags, and Georgi sadly mumbles something in Russian to do with love.
“But, wait.” Georgi says, perking up slightly. “Didn’t Viktor say that you skated in Michigan for several years?”
Yuuri nods, and Georgi continues. “Well Anya,” at this point his eyes tear up slightly, and the three other Russian skaters eye each other nervously, but he continues on, “had a friend who visited Michigan in January and said it was about as cold as here.”
All eyes turns to Yuuri, and he wishes he still had the large scarf on to bury his face into. “Well, I.” He looks at the others; Viktor, confused, Yurio, who looks mildly happy (maybe to catch him in a lie?), and Mila and Georgi, who mostly just seem interested in the new skater at their rink who pulled Viktor Nikiforov into almost retirement for close to a year.
This is really not the way Yuuri wanted his first day at the new rink to go.
He decides to just get it over with, and looks only at Viktor as he does, an attempt to relieve even the tiniest bit of the embarrassment that this admission is going to cause him. “I didn’t mean cold as in, Russia itself is very cold and I need more warm clothes, I meant it as in…” He trails off, face burning so hot that it is no doubt bright red, before steeling himself and continuing.
“I was going to say to you, um, that you should warm me up.”
Yuuri is pretty sure he’s going to end up hyperventilating in the bathroom if this doesn’t let up soon, and Viktor still looks like he doesn’t get it.
“But I did.” Viktor tells him. “Remember? I got you warmer pajamas and…” his voice trails off, cheeks tinging a pink that matched Yuuri’s own. “You didn’t mean it in a ‘put me in more clothes’ sort of way.”
Yuuri, thankfully, is saved from answering by Mila and Georgi bursting into laughter.
At the very least his terrible first impression has led to his new rinkmates getting some joy from his embarrassment.
“Oh, my god, Viktor.” Mila laughs. “You- ha- you idiot. Your fiance tells you he’s cold, probably while giving you the same face I saw him give you at the start of his short program, and you think you need to put more clothes on him.”
“What.” Yurio yells, looking between the two blushing men and the giggling skaters. “I don’t get it.”
Not even five seconds later he’s screeching loudly and dramatically. Viktor pulls Yuuri quickly away from the entrance of the rink.
“You can’t just say things like that when we aren’t going home for hours.” he whines, and Yuuri shockingly manages a smile.
“Technically, I said it last night when we were home, you just didn’t get it.” he teases, before Viktor pushes him up against the wall around the rink for a deep kiss.
Yuuri lets him, deciding at this point the situation can hardly get more embarrassing, and wraps his arms tighter around Viktor when he feels Viktor smile into the kiss.
Yuuri lets him, at least, until a screaming Yurio gets Yakov to come over and yell at Viktor to get his skates on and start warming up, and then Yuuri lets Viktor lace their hands together and lead the way to the locker room.