Yuuri sighed in relief as he finally made it up the stairs leading to his and Viktor's apartment. It was about time, too—he'd just spent the day playing babysitter to Yurio, which was odd in of itself since the kid already acted like a grown-up. Hell, to be honest, he's the type of kid who was probably born forty-eight years old.

Well, no matter. The day was long and slightly frustrating and kind of cute as Yurio would grunt and tug Yuuri towards a sweatshirt he really wanted, or hook a finger through one of Yuuri's belt loops as to not get separated. It was all about chipping away at the ice, as Viktor would tell him, and alas there you will be rewarded with a sweet child as cute as your imagination travelled...or something like that.

He twisted open the door and his brain released a little squirt of dopamine to the familiar creak welcoming him home. He closed the door behind him and waited on part two of aesthetic sounds that reminded him he was home—mainly the clickclickclickclickclick of Makkachin's claws tapping the laminate floor as he hurried to greet his other owner at the door.

Except there was no clickclick sound. No panting, either. In fact, the flat was silent. Usually Viktor would have the television on at the very least, set on the news channel or something to be used as white noise, since he continuously complained of it being too quiet in this place. And Viktor was supposed to be home the whole day, unless he decided to take off somewhere.

There was a rustle across the flat in the kitchen. A kettle shrieked suddenly, and a pot or a pan clunked against other dishes, and then the sound of oil boiling. Yuuri relaxed. Guess Viktor was here after all, except it was still pretty quiet.

"Viktor?" Yuuri called.

A moment of pause. "Hi, honey," came a response from the kitchen, and Yuuri let out another grateful sigh. "Welcome home."

"Thanks." Yuuri hung up his coat and took off his scarf.

"How was your day?"

"It was good," said Yuuri. "I had a lot of fun hanging out with Yurio, but he made me buy a lot of clothes for him because he 'forgot his wallet at home'. Well, you know how kids are—they give you one look and they hook you for life." He laughed quietly. Makkachin still had yet to be heard. It was hard to tell if the dog knew he was even home.

Viktor took his time to reply. "That's great, darling."

Yuuri paused for a second, then bent down to start untying his shoes. "What are you making?"

More silence.

Yuuri lifted his head towards the kitchen and kicked off one shoe, then the other. "Viktor?"

"Tomato soup, honey."

That got Yuuri's attention. He slowly crossed the threshold leading into the living room and took a look around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "That's really weird. You hate tomato soup. What gives?" And what do you need to boil oil for when making soup?

"I think it's just fine, darling." It was definitely soothing hearing Viktor's voice, but something about it was—

Off. It gave Yuuri a bit of the creeps.

"Makkachin's in here," came Viktor's voice again. "He's keeping me company."

That was great to hear, but it didn't explain why Makka didn't hear him come in. Yuuri bit his lip and leaned against the back of the couch. "Uh, sweetie, are you okay?"

"Yes." Viktor's response was quick and sounded unusually defensive.

"Um...are you sure?"

"Yes, honey." Viktor softened his tone. That was calming, kind of. But it didn't manage to shake off the unsettling atmosphere Yuuri felt. "I'm fine."

"Okay. Just checking, babe."

Now that he thought about it, Viktor joked on more than one occasion about how he'd burn water if someone told him to cook. That's why Yuuri had shown him a thing or two about it, and why he'd been the one doing most of the cooking in this place. Unless Viktor was feeling extremely motivated, he wouldn't be going anywhere near the kitchen.

The eerie feeling crept up Yuuri's spine once again.

"Honey," said Viktor. "Why haven't I gotten my hello kiss yet? Come here." His tone was playful.

Now that sounded a lot more like Viktor. With a smile, Yuuri pushed himself off the couch and began padding across the floor to the kitchen.

Halfway there, he heard a rustling sound from somewhere behind him. It made him jump, and he froze in his steps to look over his shoulder back at the entrance.

The doorknob jiggled. He could hear the sound of the lock-and-key mechanism clunk into place. Then, the familiar creak of the door opening, and Yuuri held his breath.

"You would not believe the line-up," Viktor exclaimed the second he closed the door behind him. "Whew, you'd think it was Black Friday or something!" He took his hat off and ran a hand through his silvery hair. "Hi, sweetheart! I just went out to grab us some dinner. When did you get home? Were you here long?"

Happy early Halloween! I'm officially 21 today so here's a spooky lil thing. B) Yeet.