Chapter Text
The rink is packed, cheering fans on both ends and all around.
"You don't think they're going to announce all three of his names again?"
There's a laugh from the man beside him. The golden ring on his finger glimmers in the light when he passes through into the rink.
"That'd be a mouthful. I'm sure they're just going to go with Plisetsky-Nikiforov."
They hear the sound of a camera shutter, and Yuuri laughs to himself.
"I think they've noticed us."
"No kidding," Viktor scoffs, looking around at the fans that are pointing in their direction, some holding up their phones to take videos or pictures. "Who knew there'd be so many Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki stans at the Junior Division?"
Yuuri rolls his eyes and elbows his husband. "Alright, alright, don't let the fame get to your head."
"Yuuri, I've been a celebrity for years! "
"Oh, I guess it already has gone to your head," Yuuri says, and hides his snort behind his hand. "Maybe that's why your forehead is so big."
Viktor chokes on his own spit.
From behind the curtain, Yuri glowers at his parents, his head poking through and his frown prominent. When he steps through, Viktor and Yuuri whirl around and grin at him.
"Don't be embarrassing," Yuri sighs, mostly to himself, but it's all in vain when Viktor and Yuuri engulf him in a giant hug, practically suffocating him. There's more camera flashes, and shouts from the crowd when they all turn his attention toward him. Yuri sighs, and tries to hide his embarrassed face as he tries to wriggle out of their grip.
"You never let us hug you anymore!" Viktor whines when he pulls away. "I just want to love my beautiful, talented, amazing son—"
"I get it," Yuri says, brushing off his jacket. His face is pink.
"Now, now," his coach says, patting Yuri's back. "Don't wrinkle his costume, now."
Yuri unzips his jacket and slides it off, and he's startled by Viktor's strangled cry.
"I'm so proud..." And he's crying, with Yuuri having to comfort him, but it looks like Yuuri's on the verge of tears too. "Yuuri, our son is going to be magnificent."
"This is only the Junior's," his coach says, and she sounds proud too. "Just wait until he moves up."
Viktor makes another dying noise.
The speaker crackles, and the voice that comes through announces Yuri's name for the free skate. Viktor sees the way he tenses up, the way his hands clench so hard his knuckles turn white.
"I'm in second place after the short program," Yuri's voice comes through softly. "What if—"
"You're going to win," Viktor says, putting his hands on Yuri's shoulders. "You're going to do wonderfully." He moves to hug him, wrapping his arms around his son's back, and squeezing tightly. "So just go out there and skate. "
This time, Yuri hugs back.
When they pull away, it's Yuuri's turn to hug him. They don't hug for long, because it's Yuri's turn.
Yuri runs a hand through his hair, and adjusts the chest of his costume. He feels like he has adjust everything, but he doesn't have time. Yuri moves over to the rink, and takes one step in.
"Aaah, I hope I'm not late!" shouts a voice, and Yuri turns back around to see Phichit rushing in, nearly barreling into Yuuri and stumbling. He pants, obviously tired out and sweaty, and props his hands on his knees. Looking up, he gives Yuri a big grin and a thumbs up. "Good luck, Yuri! I'm rooting for you!"
Yuri's eyes go wide, and he turns his head quickly, ducking out onto the ice.
"12-year old Yuri Plisetsky-Nikiforov from Russia—"
"Told you, Yuuri."
"—skating to 'The Lilac Fairy' from The Sleeping Beauty. "
Viktor closes his eyes and hums. "A good song."
"You picked it out, right?" Phichit asks, to which Viktor nods.
And Yuri skates, and skates, and skates. He spins, and spins, and spins. When he jumps, it's flawless. When he stumbles, he makes it graceful. He's beautiful, like an angel, already called a prodigy by some. He's only twelve, and he's already this good. His hair flies behind him when he jumps, and his body moves fluidly to the choreography, to the music, to the people that cheer in the stands, chanting his name. Yuri only falls twice, and even then they're small slip-ups.
When he's done, the cheers hurt their ears. When he's done, flowers are thrown onto the ice. When he's done, he skates to the edge to let a fan drape a crown weaved with flowers. When he's done, he goes over to the Kiss and Cry, where his family is waiting for him.
He steps off the ice, holding a bouquet of flowers, and gasps when Viktor, Yuuri, and Phichit move to hug him. It's a weird kind of hug, with Yuri in the middle trying to breathe, but it's a comforting one nonetheless. Yuri feels his nerves start to lessen, his hands ceasing their shaking.
"You did amazing!" Yuuri exclaims.
"Better than I ever could," Phichit jokes.
Viktor is crying again, blubbering out words Yuri can't understand. Yuri moves back to avoid getting snot and tears on his costume, and Yuuri takes the initiative to move Viktor into his arms and calm him down.
Yuri sits down with his family, and tightens his grip on his pant leg, squeezing his eyes shut. He's so nervous he could die, and he feels like he's spiraling into something unknown. He's dying, and—
They announce his score.
And he's won first place.
Yuri's eyes shoot wide, and his mouth falls open. He doesn't move or do anything until Phichit shakes him excitedly by the shoulders. Yuri flinches, and looks over at Viktor and Yuuri. They have their arms open, smiles wide.
He doesn't hesitate to leap into their arms, laughing and crying all at once. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the stupid bracelet he made when he was eight clasped securely around Yuuri's wrist.
"He did really well," Phichit says when Yuri leans his head forward to have the gold medal slipped around his neck.
Yuuri nods. He feels like crying. "It feels like he's my son." Then he pauses. "He... really is."
Phichit laughs. "Of course he is," he says, and turns towards his friend. "You were one of the biggest impacts of his life."
Yuuri doesn't reply, but when Yuri turns his head in his direction and waves, he knows he's done everything right.
The medal ceremony passes quick. Yuri brandishes his gold medal in front of all the other competitors, in a typical twelve-year old way.
They stay for the exhibition, and then leave. The hotel is within walking distance, so they walk.
The air is chilly with the November cold. It's dark, so there's less chance of anyone recognizing them and stopping them.
"Where's Phichit?" Yuri asks, raising an eyebrow. He tightens his jacket around his body.
Yuuri ponders to himself for a moment. "Uhh, I think he's going on a date with Leo."
Yuri rolls his eyes. "Of course."
As Yuri picks up his pace to walk beside Viktor, Yuuri hears the idle chatter of some TV show they caught up with the night before. Distracted, Yuuri takes the moment to look back.
To remember the day he met them, to remember the day he realized he was in love.
To remember the day he slid a golden ring on Viktor's finger, crying all the same.
Viktor doesn't appear in too many moves anymore, but there's always the occasional casting and media that wants him. He has a hard time saying no, so he usually does it, or Yuuri refuses for him.
They moved out of their apartment in Saint Petersburg to a larger one to accommodate a larger family. It's nicer, roomier, and closer to the local ice rink.
His world revolves around fame now. There are downsides, like constantly being stopped on the streets and media spreading lies, but it has its perks too—his family's inn has gotten more publicity, he has more money to buy things for his friends.
(And, sometimes, it's nice when people recognize you.)
He's snapped out of his daze when he hears the telltale sound of Viktor's laughter.
"No, they're all connected, okay, so when they do it—"
"I'm 12 years old, Papa, why are you telling me this?"
"We watched the same show!"
"You covered my eyes during that part!"
"Oh, well, it was still a good part."
Yuuri laughs to himself, and picks up his pace a little so he won't get left behind. He wasn't part of this family at the beginning, but he's wormed his way in, to the point where Yuri is accidentally calling him Papa at certain moments.
There's more chatter, more laughter, and Yuuri can't help but laugh more. Never in a million years did his old self think he'd be here right now, walking to a hotel he'd share with celebrity Viktor Nikiforov and his son. Never in a million years did he think he would be this much in love, and this much caring for someone.
So he looks up, up at his family.
And he is left inevitably starstruck.