"Shut up and don't talk to me."

Yuuri Katsuki did not need more stress in his life.

His fiancee and his temperamental rival (or was it friend) were enough of a headache on a good day. He didn't need the added stress of being sociable and dealing with other human beings.

A recent diet gave Yuuri lithe muscles and slender, flexible build was still apt for skating. Okay, he had to admit he ran out of breath sooner than normal. And there was no chance in hell he would be able to elevate himself on the ice to the degree Yurio had accomplished. But he was close to his thirties by now! He had a good excuse for being slower on the ice than normal.

However, he knew his energy was best used in pleasing Victor. He honestly tried as hard as he could. The past month, he had tried to clean the apartment. he waxed the floors and everything. Unfortunately, the white marble tarnished easily from wood polish, so that was an extra grand they had to spend on repairing those damages. When he attempted to have an electric fireplace installed, the battery-powered burners exploded. Victor forgot to remember to take the packing peanuts out of the fireplace, and it ignited into pile of black soot that stained the white carpet in his bedroom.

Specifically, Yuuri breathed in the clean, brisk chilled air that swirled around the Detroit Ice Rink. A few people sauntered around the ice, chatting about their days or trying out a simple three-turn. Ever since Yurio arrived, people in the city had become more attached to ice skating.

Except for this kid in front of him.

Skating lessons. Yuuri shivered at the thought of teaching small children the art of figure skating. Not because he couldn't handle the occasional bloody nose or cries. Victor wanted to play for keeps. If he wasn't coaching someone on he way to a Grand Prix Championship or Olympic gold, he would not even show up. Sure, the love of figure skating was great in him, but his priorities had changed in his retirement.

You'll love it, Victor chortled. Giving people the joy of skating is one of the greatest gifts!

Then again, two hundred dollars for a one hour lesson was a small price to pay.

His first skating lesson was devoted to a boy of seventeen. His face wore an eternal frown on his smooth, tanned face. Midnight black hair neatly structured the top of his head, stopping just short of his strong jawline. Based on the way his black t-shirt and black sweatpants clung to his frame, Yuuri could tell he was quite athletic. If anything, his arms were well-defined and bulked up as well as any skater he knew. His posture was pin straight, as if he was a soldier ready to commence battle. He appeared rigid and stoic, which conflicted Victor considering his height. The top of the kid's head barely reached his chin, but his poise made him look intimidating. Overall, he was a very handsome young man even though he looked like he wanted to kill everything around him.

However, when he first saw the kid, it was not his short stature that he noticed. It was his eyes. His eyes scared him. They were black. Not cocoa like Yuuri's. Pitch black, like oil leaking from a satellite in space. Half-lidded and apathetic, they betrayed no emotion. Why Victor could not have gotten the kid's group for his first lesson was beyond him.

His nametag hanging from the side of his black sweatshirt spelled the word "Archer." A weird name for the kid, but a unique one that he wouldn't forget. He appeared to be a typical moody teenager. Although he admitted the way he pushed Victor from him to leave the rink was a tad over the top.

"But you still haven't learned the snowplow stop," Yuuri said.

The boy climbed off the rink and ripped off the laces on his new Jackson boots. The black leather shined with a pristine sheen as he yanked them off his foot. "The hour is over anyway," his voice, low but smooth, barked out a terse response as he latched on his black sneakers.

"Your parents aren't picking you up for another few minutes."

"A few minutes I get to be alone."

Yuuri plastered on a nervous smiled. He sat on the ledge of the rink and crossed his arms. His white long sleeve ruffled around the elbows, he leaned on the toe picks that dug into the rubber around the ice. Looking down at his student, he examined him as he pulled away at the laces. The entire lesson was a disaster from the start. The boy, unused to the finesses of skating, fell almost every time he attempted a movement. He at least learned how to stand upright during their hour.

The boy looked up, the frown in his face deepening. "What?"

"You're taking them off wrong," Yuuri pointed out. "You're supposed to stretch them out and then unhook them."

He said nothing and continued to take the skates off the same way. Yuuri looked around the rink. It was mostly empty except for them.

"So," Yuuri trailed off. "I've never given anyone lessons before."

"No. Really?" The boy said in a terse, sarcastic tone.

"It's not something I've thought of," Yuuri said as he stroked his own cheek. "But it's great exercise even if you aren't going competitive. And it really helps with the heart as far as blood pressure goes."

The boy looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "I'm seventeen. I'm not worried about that."

Yuuri was always a little awkward around people much younger than him. Yurio had told him that a number of times. He cleared his throat, pulling down the sleeves on his wool red sweater. Moving his legs around in a swinging motion, Yuuri hummed to himself.

"What did you think though? Skating?"

The boy bore his stare into Yuuri, contemplating the question. Fans wheezed out cool air as a zamboni fired up in the corner. It began to rumble over the ice like a large cruise ship sailing past a seaport.

"You can be honest," Yuuri smiled. "I'm not an expert at this part of the job yet. But maybe you could open up and tell me."

"Fuck off."

Yuuri blinked, taken aback by the short outburst. His eyebrows furrowed in an angry response. He shot up like a piston, glaring at Yuuri with he intensity of the bright spotlights in the rafters. He took a step forward closing the gap between them.

"I didn't chose to be here or faceplant a thousand fucking times today, moron." He said, his peppermint breath wafting into Victor's nose. "If those shitty stepparents didn't force me to do this, I wouldn't be getting myself a bloody nose."

"But Aaron, I t-."

"That's not my name, idiot," he growled. "It's Archer! And don't interrupt me. I don't need any stress relief, and I don't need you as a coach or teacher or anything. So don't ask about any of my problems, and I won't ask about yours."

He spun around and charged away. Yuuri considered the angry kid in front of him. Sure, Yurio had an attitude, but he seemed harmless after knowing him. This kid had apparently dealt with some real problems based on what his guardians had told him before the lesson.

"What were you thinking about when you were on the ice?"

He stopped in his tracks, mid-step on the stone staircase towards the exit. He looked back at Victor, a bored expression on his face while looking at the seated skater. "What?"

"On the ice? Were you thinking about your problems?"

"I was thinking about not falling and cracking my fucking head open."

Yuuri crossed his arms. "And you weren't focused on your parents o-."

"Step."

"Stepparents. You weren't focused on them or school or anything like that?"

He examined Yuuri. A long pause escalated with the increasing vibrations of the zamboni zooming past Victor from behind. The way he looked at Yuuri was strange. There was a faint hint of jealousy in his gaze with every passing second. It was like he was trying to read his mind; his limbs stone as he remained planted on the stairs.

"I guess not," he finally spat out.

With the precision and gait of a soldier, Yuuri's first student turned back around and marched up the steps.

Yuuri Katsuki was the responsible one.

That was his thought every time he paid the bills online or folded the laundry or pulled out the mail from the small aluminum boxes in the lobby on the first floor of the tall condominium building. He was the responsible adult here. He knew how to file taxes and talk to agents. At every restaurant, he left exactly fifteen percent for the waiters. The fax machine at the post office? It had never felt fingers as sure as Yuuri's, tapping on the number tabs like a guitarist picking at his six-string on his front porch.

Yes, the Japanese man had life figured out. From keeping that annoying cowlick on the back of his obsidian hair slicked back to bagging the number one figure skater in the world as a fiancee, Yuuri was surprised at just how much a timid, neurotic man from Hasetsu like himself could accomplish in a lifetime.

But when life went wrong, it went wrong. And Yuuri still had not figured out how to pick up the pieces without falling into a pile of them himself.

Then again, if Victor Nikiforov had set your kitchen on fire, you would be upset as well.

Orange flames licked the charred ceiling, scorching walls with the sirens of the alarm blaring in the spacious kitchen. Fire elevated from a large pot guzzling the aftermath of a disaster dish with the stove emanating heat. The sizzle of the burnt food muted by the alarms, sprinklers shot out of the ceiling and sprayed water around the kitchen area. Only the screeches of the man next to the stove were heard over the rushing liquid as the flames died out like the burnt streetlights outside.

Yuuri gaped at the sight. The smoldering ashes of a perfectly succulent salmon rested as a dried , black corpse in a bowl. The microwave above the stove had stripes of scorch marks lathered on the stainless steel surface.

And of course, there was Victor. Standing like a lump on a log in a lime bathrobe, stained with water and coconut oil that dried into a fine ivory powder on the tassels of his wrists. The flawless-faced, taller man with bright blue eyes looked like a lost puppy; pathetic and innocent with his gray hair frazzled from the near death experience.

He coughed out a small patch of smoke, shrinking down with slumped shoulders as the ruined food mocked him on the stove. Smoke still pillowed as the alarms shut off.

"Hello, Yuuri," Victor wheezed out.

Yuuri breathed in. "Victor," He said in a quiet voice. "Why was our kitchen on fire?"

Victor gulped. That sweet, peaceful tone always set him on the edge. It was a warning sign. "The fish caught on fire."

Yuuri took a step forward, a small splash from the puddle of water clinging onto the bottom of his cotton cerulean dress pants. His face devoid of wrinkles of stress marks, he calmly reached forward and leaned on the wooden kitchen island. "The fish decided to burn itself? It hated it's life, so it decided to come into our kitchen and burn itself."

Victor licked his lips and shifted on his spot. "Well...not exactly. I knew you had a long day today, and you always cook for us. So I decided to return the favor."

Yuuri felt his eye twitch. "Great, Victor," He squeaked. "But I think you forgot what today is?"

"Your birthday?"

Yuuri shook his head.

"Our anniversary?"

"Are we married yet?"

Victor snapped his fingers. "I got it. It's Hanukah."

"Huh?"

"Hanukah. That's the American holiday, rig-."

"It's our vacation, Victor!" Yuuri yelled. Victor shrunk back as the angry man slammed his fist on the island, causing an apple to slide off the surface and splatter onto the ground. "Our flight left two hours ago. You weren't at the airport!"

Victor scratched the back of his head. Based on the throbbing vein on Yuuri's forehead, he knew trouble was about to wallop him worse than screwing up a quadruple flip. "Our vacation? Right...that was this week?"

Yuuri looked over at the stove and gasped. Seeing the knob was still on, he flicked it off. The blue flame underneath disappeared as the burnt smell of fish invaded the air around them. Once the low hum ended, he put his hands on his hips and cocked his head, a disapproving frown pointed at the distraught Victor.

"I put the vacation on the corkboard," Yuuri pointed behind him at the corkboard pasted onto the mocha wall. Hanging on it were papers lined with schedules and dates for the household.

"You know I don't read the corkboard," Victor rushed out. "I thought it was just for pictures."

"All of our stuff is on there Victor," Yurui threw his hands up. "Meetings, deadlines, social worker visits. They're all there," Yuuri shouted. With a groan, he slammed his head onto the island, remaining face down in failure.

Victor sighed. The frustrated man before him was shortening his life span by a few years with his incessant worrying. If there was one thing Victor would like Yuuri to be, it was calm for once. It seemed that domestic life was as hard on Yuuri as the skating world could be towards him. He reached over and patted the shorter man on the shoulder, the thick fabric of his chestnut jacket scratching his fingers.

"It's going to be alright, Yuuri."

Yuuri poked his head back up, a tired expression hanging over his heavy eyelids as they dropped down over his dark brown irises. With a breath, he stood up and turned to the burnt fish on the stove.

"We can book the next flight," Victor said with a small smile. "It's no big deal."

Yuuri ran a hand through his cable-knit soft hair. He peeked out at the open expanse of the condominium's living area. The oak trophy case stood out over the marble floor shimmering underneath the bright recess lighting. The glass coffeetable acted as a barrier between the leather love seat and matching couch with a view of the Detroit skyline pasted outside the fogged up windows from the light rain outside. Only Yuuri's laptop with a small pen invaded the glass dining table's surface; Yuuri did most of his work from there.

Dealing with a former world champion was one thing, but Yurio was a whole different story. The Olympics were only a few months away, and Yurio was planning on doing everything to crush both Nationals and the Grand Prix Final before that happened. So the past few weeks had been hard on everybody. Basically, look at Yurio and you die unless you helped him land a quad in practice. Everyone was on edge, so Victor thought it was best to go on vacation. Too bad he forgot when his own vacation would be happening.

Not only that, but Victor went through money like oil through their brand new Jeep. He was pretty sure Victor thought a credit card was just a voucher to get free stuff.

Yuuri sighed and adjusted his drying contacts in his eyes. "Can you just please be more aware of things, Victor. I don't want you getting yourself hurt."

Victor smirked. "You worry too much. This vacation should be for you."

With a flourish, Yuuri cracked open his laptop. "I'll book it. Just don't touch anything."

"Should I clean up the mess?"

"Not one thing, Victor."

Victor plopped himself next to Yuuri on the sofa, resting his head on his shoulders. Quiet moments between them, as unopportune as this one was, had become a rarity in the household. He sighed and stared out at the periwinkle sky shrouding the city buildings. A scented candle burned honeysuckle on the glass coffetable as Yuuri bought new plane tickets.

"I still think Florida would be a better place," Victor said.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. "We already went there."

"For Skate America. Not to visit."

Yuuri clicked a few more buttons on the small laptop. He adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses, the reflection of a wooden wall lamp next to the couch illuminating his frames. "Yurio didn't want to go back."

"Yurio isn't a fan of fun," Victor said.

Yuuri chuckled. "Kinda like that guy I taught skating the other day?"

Victor laughed and leaned over on the couch. "He's not that bad," he said to Yuuri. "Just a little aggressive."

Welcome back ladies and gentleman! It's been awhile! However, I have been wanting to fire up the writing fryers and keep my creative juices flowing! so here it is; a sort-of sequel to Detroit and the Good Life With You! If you didn't read it, please do! It may be necessary in order to get some of the references, so a nice read through would help. Regardless, read and review if you can.

And please Review, review, review! It's what I do this for! Even if it's just to tell me how this sucks, please do anything that lets me know eyes are on this!

Thank you so much, and see you soon!