Humor and fluff, it is a way of life!
Poor, poor Yakov.
The first time Yakov sought Victor's advice on Lilia, his answer had been very mild in Victor standards. Scrounging up the courage to ask the question had taken a few shots of strong Russian liquor, but Yakov finally felt relaxed enough to engage his skater in the conversation. Spying Victor leaving the ice alone after practice, Yakov tossed the rest of his dignity out of the window and called to the young man.
"Vitya!" Yakov was at the door of his office, commanding Victor's presence with a single word. As his young skater approached, Yakov looked uncomfortable. "I have a question for you."
Curiosity prevailed as Victor followed his coach into the office. "Perhaps I have an answer! I am known to be pretty intelligent in most matters." He stayed standing when Yakov sat behind his desk.
"Well," the older man laced his fingers together on the desk, "Lilia and I, um, she doesn't hate me quite as much as she used to." In confusion, Victor stayed quiet, waiting for elaboration. "You do stupid, romantic things for Katsuki, right? Things that make him happy? You two are always so l;ovey dovey around here, I figure you must." It was the quietest version of Yakov that Victor had ever seen.
"Yes! I love to spoil my Yuuri!" Victor would talk about Yuuri non-stop if allowed. "Why just yesterday-"
"Stop!" A hand shot into the air, halting Victor's downward Yuuri spiral, "I just need a suggestion of something simple, to, um, let her know, that I, you know," trailing off, Yakov waved his hands in the air.
Tapping a finger against his mouth, Victor considered his coach's terribly formed question. "Ha! I got it! When I wanted Yuuri to know I was interested in him, I touched him, a lot."
"Yikes, that's enough, Vitya," Yakov looked a little queasy. Victor was like a son and he didn't need any details about intimate touching.
Laughter filled the office as Victor used it to mask the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. "I mean little touches. On the hands, on his arm, sometimes I would rub his legs for him after a particularly hard practice. Maybe you should try rubbing her feet? She does wear those awful shoes all day."
Yakov considered the suggestion, nodding slowly and waving Victor out of the door without another word. A foot massage wouldn't be terribly inappropriate, considering how often Lilia complained about her aching feet.
The next morning, however, told a different story when Yakov attempted to hide his black eye behind a pair of sunglasses. He learned all too late that Lilia was sensitive about her bony feet, and even angrier if you touched them without warning. The black eye would last a week.
The second time Yakov asked for advice, it was specifically geared toward Lilia's birthday. Despite the disaster that was the 2017 foot rub injury, he sought out Victor, knowing that his most ludicrous skater was an excellent gift giver. Yakov acknowledged that during the original span of their marriage he had failed miserably at this task, still able to list all the gifts that had caused major fights. After much deliberation, Victor helped him order a beautiful cashmere sweater and a dozen boxes of chocolates, all to be delivered directly to Lilia at her studio on the morning of her birthday.
When her text requested that Yakov stop by, he was hoping that he would be greeted with a heartfelt thank you. Mentally practicing the speech Victor had helped him write, Yakov waltzed into the ballet studio, face immediately colliding with a flying box of chocolates.
He learned that day that Lilia was a size extra small in woman's clothing not a medium, and buying a woman an enormous amount of chocolates along with a too big sweater meant that you were trying to fatten her up. Georgi was kind enough to drive him to the doctor. The seven stitches in his forehead were removed twelve days later.
For what would have been their twenty-second wedding anniversary, Yakov was determined to successfully take her on a nice night out. While the fighting had decreased months ago, Yakov was still struggling to rekindle the flame between them. This fact was not helped by the angry sixteen-year-old who inhabited their home most of the time. On the night of their date, Yurio stomped off to stay at Victor and Yuuri's while Yakov treated Lilia to a dinner at a restaurant suggested by Victor. In a surprising move, the skater had also made the reservations.
Arriving at the restaurant, they were escorted to a small table in the kitchen, directly in front of the chef. The maître de explained the chef's table experience, leaving Lilia with the most delighted look Yakov had ever seen. It was still akin to a snarl, but Yakov noticed the subtle difference.
The dinner was amazing, the chef explaining every course, answering every question that Lilia fired at him with patience. Wine flowed freely, changing with each dish, and adding a rosy glow to Lilia's cheeks. Yakov was convinced that this was going to be the perfect night to tell her how he felt.
The check arrived at the table at the same time as two shots of liquor with flaming rims were presented with their desserts. Yakov lifted a spoonful of rich cake into his mouth, casually opening the billfold to glance at the cost of the evening. He instantly chocked when he saw the bottom line, reaching out blindly for his drink, swallowing the burning shot without blowing out the flame.
It took one waiter to Heimlich the cake from his throat and two EMTs to determine that he had not caused any permanent damage. After three days, his voice finally returned so he could properly yell at Victor.
"You are over-thinking this," Victor leaned against the wall of the rink, watching Yuuri skate. After three failed attempts, Yakov had not wanted to discuss Lilia, but Victor had pushed the subject until he caved. "How about flowers? What is her favorite color?"
"Red," Yakov stated easily. Being married to her for twenty one years at least gave him that much knowledge. "But no peonies, she is allergic to them."
"No problem!" Victor smiled at his coach, quickly returning his focus to his skater, yelling corrections toward Yuuri. "I'll make the order today, I know the best flower shop. Trust me, Yuuri loves flowers, I'm sure Lilia will too."
He should have known that trusting Victor would result in disaster. Walking into the house, he was hit with the smell of a florist, which is exactly what his living room looked like. There were red flowers covering every inch of the room, in vases, in boxes, some wrapped in the arms of stuffed animals.
"Ai, Yakov," Yurio stood at his shoulder looking utterly disgusted, "what the hell is all of this?"
A wheezing sound came from somewhere in the middle of the madness. Crashing through the flower hell, Yakov found Lilia leaning against a chair, face puffy and blotchy with red marks. Yelling to Yurio, he caught the bottle of Benadryl when the teen threw it toward him. Uncapping it, he handed it to Lilia, who drank more than her fair share of the children's liquid. When it began to take effect, he felt her cold eyes land on his face. Within seconds, another sensation hit him, as thorny roses crashed into his head.
It took three hours to remove the offending flowers from their living space and scrub the areas they had touched. It took a bottle of Benadryl and twenty-four hours of sleep for Lilia to recover from her exposure to dozens of peonies. It took Yurio thirty minutes to pick all the rose thorns from Yakov's bald scalp (plus added an additional year to the therapy the child would need).
"I've got it!" Victor ran into Yakov's office, slamming his excited body into a chair. "It is full proof!"
Yakov ran a finger over the scar on his forehead, briefly recalling all of Victor's brilliant ideas, wondering why he continued to ask for advice at all. Not speaking, he raised an eyebrow at his skater.
"Show up naked!" Victor looked proud of himself, folding his hands in his lap. "It worked for me!"
The unholy terror of Yakov's shouted curse words made Victor jump from his seat, dashing out of the office and into the safety of Yuuri's arms.
With everything else he had suffered, Yakov couldn't fathom what Lilia would injure if he flaunted himself naked. The thought was enough to flood his cheeks with embarrassment, masking it by screaming more profanity after his most accomplished skater, accenting the words with the slam of his office door.
"Katsuki," Yakov spoke quietly. If he had learned anything about the Japanese skater, it was that the young man startled easily and was prone to falling onto the ground. He didn't want Victor accusing him of injuring the competition.
Yuuri approached Victor's coach with hesitation, unsure of the absence of his normally abrasive tone. "Yes, sir?" His head bowed slightly as he stood in front of Yakov.
There was a piece of him that wondered why he hadn't thought to ask Yuuri for advice in the first place. Unlike the other skaters, Yuuri Katsuki was thoughtful and diligent in everything he did. The silent concentration during practice was intriguing and Yakov had grown to enjoy Yuuri's existence. It made Victor harder to handle, but he couldn't blame the boy for that, Victor had always been a handful in one way or another. "I wonder if I could seek your advice on something." It was the nervous tremor of Yuuri's fingers that made Yakov smile, giving him greater confidence in his decision. Nodding silently, Yuuri acknowledged his words. "As you know, Lilia and I were once married. Our relationship seems to be improving, but I, uh, have struggled to cement this idea with her."
"I'm assuming Victor's suggestions haven't helped?"
There was a twinkle of humor in Yuuri's eyes that Yakov instantly understood. It took a special person to love all that was Victor Nikiforov, and as his coach, and his resident father figure, Yakov was glad Victor had found someone who could do just that. "I would say hindered is more appropriate." Yuuri chuckled, eyes moving to the ground. "Perhaps, you have a suggestion for me?" It was a bold move, but Yakov spent a significant amount of time watching Yuuri with Victor. There was a calm love there, reassuring in small gestures, that Yakov thought might fit him better.
His mouth moving without sound, silenced by shock, Yuuri wrung his hands together. "Um, maybe something simple? Make her dinner, watch a movie? It doesn't have to be a big thing, just something you like to do together." Shoulders straightening, Yuuri looked the coach in the eye. "I could help you cook if you need it and Yurio can spend the night with us."
In a move rarer than most would know, Yakov willingly hugged the small man in front of him. Together they left the rink that evening, stopping for groceries before preparing a small but elegant meal in Lilia's kitchen. With Yurio in tow, Yuuri slipped from the back door, keeping them out of sight when Lilia arrived home.
"Why are we doing this again?" Yurio spat as they walked around the side of the house and to the waiting car.
A glance over his shoulder and into the kitchen window revealed Lilia standing close to Yakov, both of them smiling in a way that Yuuri had never seen. "You'll understand when you are older." He laughed when Yurio punched him, sliding into the back seat of the cab.
It was the best night Yakov had experienced in a long time.
"No practice this morning," came Yakov's first text into the group chat. "Convene at the rink at 2PM sharp." Victor raised his eyebrows at Yuuri, holding up his phone in disbelief.
In Yuuri's hand, a message showed up outside of the group text.
"It is all your fault, you know." It was Yakov.
"I'm sorry?" Yuuri text back, worry taking quick control of his mind.
The dots appeared and disappeared, finally being replaced by text. "It is your fault that there is no practice this morning."
"Are you okay?" Yuuri had images of Yakov lying in a hospital bed, countless number of stitches and burns where Lilia had released her wrath following Yakov's attempts at romance.
"More than," the dots were back accompanied with less anxiety this time, "we aren't ready to be out of bed yet."
Yelping, Yuuri tossed his phone across the bed, squinting his face together begging his mind not to obtain a mental image of what Yakov's text implied. While he was busy slapping his forehead with his open palm, Victor delicately lifted Yuuri's phone from its landing place.
"Oh, Yuuri," came the low whistle, "did you get Yakov laid?" Victor's voice was a mixture of surprise, approval, and mortification.
Jumping from the bed, Yuuri ran toward the kitchen. "Do you think if I dump bleach in my ear it will wipe that image clean from my brain?!" Victor tackled him onto the ground, pinning Yuuri down as if he had been serious in his intentions.
"How do you think I feel?!" Victor squealed, mere inches from Yuuri's face. "They are like my parents!" Shuddering, Victor sat back on the carpet.
"We have a morning off and can't even make use of it," Yuuri's shoulders sagged, "I may never get hard again." He glanced at his phone in Victor's hand and shivered. He was fighting against the thoughts that were trying to make his brain melt. Yuuri didn't even want to have those thoughts, but here they were, as inevitable as ants marching into a picnic.
Distracted by his own determination not to think, Yuuri missed Victor's smile turn coy. "Is that a challenge?" Victor slunk over Yuuri's body, pushing him down on the carpet. He began to kiss his love on the neck, suddenly pausing, raising his face to stare wide-eyed into Yuuri's. "Oh no," he said, looking slightly sick, "I think your evil mental images are contagious." Victor resumed full body shudders as he rested his forehead on Yuuri's shoulder.
"How about breakfast?" Yuuri chuckled, patting Victor's back, "then maybe the bleach thing?" He felt Victor laugh against his chest.
"If that doesn't work than a full frontal lobotomy." Victor stood, pulling Yuuri with him.
"Maybe they'll give us a discount since we'll need two!" Yuuri pulled down the pan for eggs, accepting the carton when Victor handed it to him.
Victor leaned on the counter watching Yuuri prep, mentally ticking off the ways that he was lucky, "I'm happy for them though." It was a quiet summarization.
Smiling into his omelet mixture, Yuuri couldn't help thinking the same thing.
Disclaimer:
Don't pour bleach in your ear.
Also, this post doesn't condone frontal lobotomy.
It does condone happiness and love for everyone in the YOI Universe!