Author's Notes: I considered an epilogue, but in writing this chapter, I realized: it's best to end it this way. ^^; So here it is, THE FINAL CHAPTER OF YOLO. Thank all of you for your love and comments, and for sticking around this far. m(_ _)m I hope you enjoyed reading the fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Also, I totally forgot to add this in the last chapter, but we have art! Commissioned the lovely HakaMii for this scene in Chapter 3: post/162340597612/commissioned-the-lovely-hakamiiart-for-a-scene

Victor is… confused, for lack of a better word.

Since arriving in Russia, Yuuri has had firm control of his youkai, and Victor has been extremely careful to ensure that Yuuri has no reason to feel anxious or distressed. He was worried when he caught the flash of gold on the streets – it was the first time Yuuri used his powers after the serum – but Yuuri was still Yuuri, and there were no signs of aggression from the fox.

But now: now, Yuuri is squirming on the sheets as though he's in pain, his pupils blown out, feral and golden.

"Yuuri, shhh, my zolotse, I'm here," Victor murmurs, pressing a hand on Yuuri's cheek, eliciting a whimper in response. Feverish. Clammy. In the short distance between the couch and the bed, Yuuri has heated up, too fast, too sudden. "What's wrong, what happened?"

"I, I don't know." Yuuri swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, and then he grabs a fistful of Victor's shirt, clutching it like he's drifting in the deep ocean and Victor's his only lifeline. "The um, the kitsune… the – the… what's the word for it?"

"Fox?" Victor guesses.

"Yes, fox." Yuuri blinks, slowly, lips parting. "It's really… excited? I can't, think of another word. After we talked about… about sex…"

Ah.

Shaking with laughter, Victor presses his forehead against Yuuri's neck, his concern dissipating entirely. He should've told Yuuri, shouldn't have kept it from him. Not that he could have predicted the fox's reaction, of course, but what a way for his poor angel to find out.

"Victor…?" Yuuri mutters, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

"Oh, Yuuri. I'm no expert on youkai and their workings, but…" Victor lifts his head to flash a roguish grin. "I think your fox is just excited to finally claim its mate."

Yuuri's eyebrows knot together. "But it's just you and me here, and I've got the fox, so—" He pauses, before he abruptly grabs Victor's face between his hands, sounding clear and awake and very, very stunned. "You asked me about… about scents once. About markings. Why did you ask me about scents and markings?"

Victor beams in a heart-shaped smile. "I think you know the answer."

Brown eyes widen as the light begins to dawn in them. "How? When? And why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wasn't sure, but now, well…" Victor drops a kiss on Yuuri's lips. Then another. And another. Until Yuuri's arms are wrapped around Victor's shoulders and Victor's hands are on Yuuri's hips and they're breathing hard into each other's mouths, panting together.

"We're mates," he breathes, nipping at Yuuri's lower lip.

"Mates," Yuuri repeats, low and deep. A growl that sounds almost territorial. And then he kisses Victor, so hot and wet and hungry that Victor completely loses his mind.

"God," Victor groans, and just like that, Yuuri flips them, physically and psychologically, rolling them over so he's on top, sitting on Victor's thighs.

It's everything he has dreamed of: Yuuri, with his piercing golden eyes, taking charge and dominating him in bed; scorching his insides and turning him to mush. And it's so easy. So, so easy to just let go and give Yuuri the reigns. Especially with Yuuri's mouth on his neck, and those hands wandering down to his—

"Okay, wait, wait," Victor gasps, ripping Yuuri's hands off. "As much as I'm loving this, you're not yourself right now."

Yuuri lets out a whine, glassy-eyed and flushed a dark pink. So beautiful. But definitely not himself.

"It'll happen," Victor promises softly, reaching up to run a thumb along Yuuri's jaw. He's talking to Yuuri, but also to the fox – loving one means loving the other. "It will happen, and I don't want you to get hurt, so let's take a breath, all right? Let's take it slow."

Recognition flickers in the gold, and Yuuri's face softens. "Victor…"

And then they're kissing again, languid and warm as a whisper of summer heat.

They take it slow then, just as Victor suggests, and Yuuri stays Yuuri, even when their underpants are at their knees; even when they're rolling their hips and pressing their bare thighs together, moaning and shaking, until everything turns white.

"Remember, what we want is names. Names of the bloodsuckers leading the operation, and—"

Yuuri raises his hand.

Yurio rolls his eyes, "This isn't a classroom."

Lowering his hand, Yuuri scratches at his cheek sheepishly. "I felt bad interrupting…"

"Just say whatever you've got to say!"

"Be nice to my zolotse," Victor admonishes, reaching across Yuuri to prod Yurio in the knee. "He's never done anything like this before."

"We might want to lower our volumes," Otabek says behind Yurio.

The four of them are hidden within a row of warehouse containers that sit at the back of the warehouse where a distribution is supposedly going down. With the destruction of Club Paradise and the loud capture of Ivan the vampire informant, the leaders of the illegal blood distribution must be aware of their presence by now. It could be a quiet, boring night, or it could turn into an all-right rumble. Either way, they're ready and armed to the teeth. Save for Yurio's need to demonstrate his leadership with the start of what appears to be some sort of motivational speech.

"If a fight breaks out, I'm assuming we want them alive?" Yuuri whispers, dropping his voice.

"I'd say yes, for interrogation," Yurio nods. "Three's probably enough, so feel free to go nuts on the rest."

Otabek smirks, red eyes darkening dangerously.

"Sound advice, boss," Victor chuckles.

And so they wait. For hours, and hours, and hours.

Or what feels like hours.

As Victor's concentration begins to wane, he spends his time gazing upon Yuuri instead, the other man's features alight with excitement and the golden glow of his eyes. He was sweetly embarrassed post-coitus, after he came back to himself and discovered that he was nuzzling into the end of Victor's throat and murmuring endlessly in his native language. In fact, his angel remained embarrassed for quite a while after, only warming up to Victor's touches again when it was time for their mission.

"Victor," Yuuri murmurs. "You're staring."

"Mm hm," Victor hums, brushing his hip against Yuuri's. He knows his angel is blushing now, too faint to see in the dark. "I was just thinking about how adorable you were after I stro—"

"W-W-We should focus on the mission," Yuuri half-yelps, half-whispers, his voice turning high and strained.

"Will you two idiots shut up," Yurio snaps. "You're going to expose our position!"

"Too late for that, foolish hunters," says a guttural voice, thickly accented.

Instantly, before anyone can react, Otabek is on his feet, pistols opening fire into the darkness, while Yurio hefts his gunblade over his shoulder and lunges forward with a deafening roar. The sparks off the gunshots reveal a sizable number of foes, all rushing toward them with their teeth bared and their claws flexed.

"Is this how missions work over here?" Yuuri says, stunned, tugging out his weapon from its strap.

"This one's a little crude for my liking," Victor laughs as he strings arrows his bow. "But you can always count on Yurio to make them exciting!"

Seung-gil studies his cards, glaring at the ones displayed on the table. The crafty Thai bastard has to be cheating. How is it possible for him to break Seung-gil's koi-koi four times in a row? His fingers twitch, itching to reach for the cards laid face-down on the other side of the table. He can easily sneak a peek before Phichit returns from his bathroom break. Slowly, he reaches over. Just one little peek…

The door swings open, and Seung-gil's hand jerks away.

"I wasn't looking," he declares firmly, twisting round to face—

Ah, good. It's not Phichit.

"Where is the half-youkai?" Murase growls, his face sporting ugly red blotches of fury and dark rings under his eyes. His hair is unkempt, messy, while his yukata has slipped off one shoulder, exposing a thin, bandaged chest.

"Whatever happened to knocking before entering?" Seung-gil laments, setting his cards down on the table.

"I'm not in the mood for your dry wit." Murase reaches into his yukata and yanks out a dagger, jamming its point at Seung-gil with a snarl. "I know you've been his contact and inside source. Now, tell me where he's hiding."

Seung-gil shrugs his shoulders and rises from his seat, sinking his hands into his pants pockets. He feels an odd calmness settling inside him, like a fog hovering over his senses. It keeps the panic from thudding out his chest and surging up his throat. "He's no longer in the country, Murase. I thought you of all people would be glad to have one less half-youkai to worry about."

"Bullshit," Murase spits out. "You're hiding him. Protecting him. In cahoots with Minako and the rest of her filthy youkai crew."

Something glints at the corner of his eye, and Seung-gil spots Phichit right away. At the door, the armored yaksha motions for him to keep talking.

"Technically," Seung-gil points out lightly, keeping his gaze trained on the crazed exterminator, "Morooka's human."

Murase lets out a cackle that has Seung-gil's hair standing on end. "Human? Human? He might as well be a youkai for the way he betrayed the human race! Coming up with a serum to counteract mine? He has doomed us to a world of cross-breeding and half-youkai, to a world where humans will no longer be the dominant race!" He shakes his dagger, unaware of Phichit approaching stealthily behind him. "You and Minako, all of you, you'll regret what you've done. You'll wish you had listened to me, and—"

Murase halts mid-sentence, choking on the last word. Seung-gil exhales a sigh of relief; Phichit has drawn his blade against the small of Murase's back.

"Let's put the weapon down now, crazy guy," Phichit says cheerily. "Nice and slow."

Gritting his teeth, Murase drops the dagger, before Phichit spins him around and starts shoving him to the door. "Not sure what you're hoping to accomplish here," Phichit adds, "But you really won't find my best bud in Japan anymore. He left for his honeymoon a while ago."

Murase's head whips round, eyes wild. "Honeymoon?"

"That's right, honeymoon." Phichit pushes him roughly through the door. "So you can forget about your mad obsession, because he's. Not. Here."

"And once Minako informs headquarters of what you've done, you're finished," Seung-gil says with a sniff.

Murase bares his teeth in a terrifying grin. "Finished? No. There will be others. They will take my place, and they'll show the world the true horrors of the—"

"Yeah, all right," Phichit says, slamming the door in Murase's face. Shaking his head, he returns to his seat at the card table, sliding his sword back into its sheathe. "Wow, did you see how thin he's gotten? The guy's so close to death's door, I almost feel sorry for him. And what is it with villains and monologues?"

"They don't have many who will listen, so they take whatever chance they can get." Seung-gil removes his hands from his pockets and sinks back onto his seat. "Speaking of which, any word from Minako and her filthy youkai crew?"

Phichit picks up his cards, sniggering. "Last I heard, the council has agreed to meet with them, so there's progress."

"Good," says Seung-gil. "Make sure to let Gumiho know." He rests his elbows on the table and raises his cards to eye level. "Shall we?"

"Hell yeah," says Phichit.

(Phichit wins, again, and they fall into their daily evening routine of bickering over Phichit's sleight of hand with the cards.)

The vampires are slower, Victor realizes. Or, maybe, after months of exterminating high-speed youkai, his reflexes have improved.

He fires three arrows in succession, nailing his targets and notching another arrow before the vampires have even hit the ground. On the top of a container, he has a bird's eye view of the fight, and it's painfully obvious whose side is winning. The vampires have greater numbers, but what Yurio and the team lack in quantity, they replace with skill and absolute, wanton recklessness.

Yurio has honed the finesse of using his gunblade, switching smoothly between hard swings and sudden, rapid gunfire, making his movements near impossible to predict. Any vampire who has had the misfortune of connecting with the heavy blade will attest to experiencing a loss of limbs, the miracle of flight, or the feel of his rib cage collapsing in while he's crushed five feet into the pavement. Those fortunate enough to dodge the blade are quickly, and mercilessly, gunned down.

Otabek, meanwhile, is Yurio's cover. Where there's an opening in Yurio's wide movements, a split second for an attack, Otabek thwarts any and all attempts with his guns and claws. Where Yurio fails to notice a third vampire to his right, Otabek slams a fist into the vampire's nose. And where Yurio's shots miss, Otabek makes them for him. Together, they make a deadly combination, an unstoppable pair, and Victor muses that his impulsive departure to Japan may have been beneficial after all.

And then there's Yuuri.

His beautiful, lethal angel of death.

He's in full combat gear, coat whirling, as the metal chains of his sansetsukon whistle through the air. It's the only warning his opponents receive, before the silver-coated blades rip into flesh, burning demon skin and tearing out fresh howls of agony. Full circle, Victor sighs with fondness, as he stabs an arrow into the eye of a charging vampire. He met Yuuri, confident and fierce, in the dark forest of Hasetsu. Now Yuuri is here, in Russia, fighting with the same confidence Victor always saw in the man. And it's not just about Yuuri's confidence. Fighting in tandem with his youkai appears to have further enhanced his abilities as well: he's barely visible on the ground, his presence revealed only through screams and the sounds of whirring chains.

A heavy-set vampire makes the mistake of sneaking up behind Yuuri, claws raised. Like a bolt of lightning, Yuuri snaps his wrist to reintegrate his weapon, and in the same motion, rams the spear tip straight through the pale throat.

Victor grimaces; he's going to have a word with Yuuri and his fox later.

Still, the brutal move has made an effect: a ripple of horror runs through the remaining vampires, and they pause, exchanging glances. It looks like his angel has unwittingly removed the head of the snake—in three seconds, no less—and the vampires are now lost without a leader.

How convenient.

"There's no shame in surrendering," Victor says, leaping off the container to land next to Yuuri. "Consider your options, my friends." He shrugs and crosses his arms. "You really only have two."

"Hey," Yurio yells some distance away, "I'm the one leading the mission here, I get to give the cool speeches!"

The vampires hesitate.

Seconds before a ringtone echoes across the docks.

"Oh, sorry." Yuuri tugs out a cellphone from his back pocket, golden eyes blinking in surprise. "It's Phichit. Why's he up so early?"

"Why the hell did you bring your cellphone on a mission?" Yurio demands, stomping up to give Yuuri a shove.

"Should be on mute," Otabek chides.

"Not the issue here, Beka—are you answering?"

"It might be important. Hi, Phichit? I'm actually on a mission right now…"

Victor clears his throat, as Yuuri cups a hand over his mouth and turns away, shoulders curling into a cramped hunch. "You know what they're capable of," he tells the vampires, who are staring incredulously at Yuuri. "Even if they may not look like it right now."

"Speak for yourself," Yurio huffs, elbowing Victor aside. He heaves his gunblade over his shoulder and puffs out his scrawny chest. "Listen up, assholes, you've got two choices. Either you cooperate and we send you to a nice little rehabilitation center outside the city, or we beat the information out of you and leave you to Beka, who'll drain that blood addiction out of your body in the most excruciating way possible."

"I can be very creative," Otabek agrees, cracking his knuckles ominously.

Chuckling, Victor leaves the rest of the intimidation piece to Yurio. The blond has always been oddly eloquent when it comes to that part of the mission. "Yuuuuri," he calls, dragging out the name as far as he can take it. "You spoiled our image with that phone call. Can't you call him back later?"

"—hang on." Yuuri glances up, beaming. "Phichit says Minako and the others are meeting with the council soon."

"Wonderful," says Victor, before he leans down to whisper into the receiver, "Yuuri and I had sex."

There's an audible shriek, and then a shout of, hey everybody, my best friend had sex with the man of his dreams!

"Phichit!" Yuuri shoots a look of dismay at Victor, who pecks him on the cheek and counters the look with a beatific smile.

"No cellphones on missions."

"It is unprecedented that we have a youkai among us in the council meeting room."

"I am honored to be the first," Yuki says, her glassy eyes wide and unblinking. Minako is glad now, to have asked Leo and Guang Hong to wait for her outside.

There's a murmur among the council members. They're sitting in a row behind a long table across from where Minako stands with Yuki and Morooka. The room is large and empty; the cold floors made of colored marble. Yuki is composed, unfazed by the reactions of the council, while Morooka fidgets constantly at the clasps of his briefcase. Seated in the center is the person who had spoken – an old man, his hair graying on the sides and turning white at the tips. He rests his chin on his hands, beady eyes narrowing into mere slits.

"State your purpose clearly and concisely, Okukawa."

Minako bows, low and deep. Recognizing the council's keen eye for status and wealth, she has worn her finest furisode: pink and made of silk, with embroidery in the design of white cherry blossoms. "Sir, I am here for two reasons. The first, is to present to you a new invention." Next to her, Morooka hastily draws out a bottle from his briefcase, holding it up for all to see. "A serum that can purify a youkai's essence and take away their malevolence. With this, extermination will be a thing of the past."

She waits for the council's flurry of whispers to die down. "The second," she continues, "Is to bring to light the abominable crimes of Murase Toshio, leader of the Youkai Extermination Society in Saga prefecture."

"The man who raised a revolt against you and took over your place?" the old man clarifies.

"Yes."

He arches a bushy eyebrow. "You caved easily before. What makes you want to fight now?"

Minako lifts her chin. "Because, this time, he threatened the lives of those I care most about."

"Did you not cause the death of his?" a council member asks on the far end.

"I don't think she had much of a choice," chimes in another.

"Silence," the old man says, and the members are quick to obey. He eyes Minako carefully, stroking at the white goatee on the end of his narrow chin. "I detest politics, so I won't stand for any slanderous accusations made for the sole purpose of regaining your post."

"I assure you, Sir," Minako bows again, "I have no intention of returning as leader of the Saga branch. I wish only to make it known that Murase has engaged in dangerous experiments that can, has, and will lead to dire consequences."

The council leader turns his gaze to Yuki. "And the youkai is here..."

"As a witness," Minako finishes. "To testify to the state of the youkai in Hasetsu, where the Saga branch is located."

There's a pause, long and drawn out and deeply scrutinizing.

Then, finally, the old man nods once. "Make it fast," he says, cracking his neck, "I have a massage appointment in one hour."

Minako feels a surge of relief.

They've made it through the hardest part of the meeting.

FROM: Grumpy
[We got him! We finally got the bastard!]

TO: Grumpy
[Well done, Yurio!]

FROM: Grumpy
[Yeah, he ran, but katsudon cornered him in the bathroom! Bloodsucker nearly peed his pants LOL]

TO: Grumpy
[Well done, Yurio!]

FROM: Grumpy
[... did you set your messages to some standard reply while you're at work?]

TO: Grumpy
[Well done, Yurio!]

FROM: Grumpy
[GO TO HELL, VICTOR.]

Victor grins at his phone screen as he unlocks the door and shoulders it open. Christophe is right about riling up the petite blond – it's far too fun to pass up. The Swiss has returned to work full-time as his agent again, and Yakov has wasted no time in filling up his calendar the second his vacation ends. He avoids taking on hunting missions while he readjusts to his pre-Japan schedule of long hours and shots and shots of caffeine, but Yuuri, eager to test the limits of his newfound partnership with his youkai, has gone on missions nearly every night with Yurio and Otabek since their last operation together. Christophe joins them occasionally, though he once laments of how his 'old bones can no longer keep up with the young'uns'.

"I'm home," Victor announces brightly. It sends a thrill up his spine each time he declares his arrival, and he wonders how he could have possibly found the routine to be dull and mundane. But then, that was the Victor before Yuuri. Impulsive and irresponsible and a firm believer of seeking any and every thrill presented to him, because hey: you only live once.

Hmm, Before Yuuri. Perhaps he ought to consider a new system for writing his dates. His birth year would be twenty-seven years Before Yuuri. His first successful hunting mission with Christophe would be eleven years Before Yuuri. His movie career also launched eleven years Before Yuuri. Really, everything he did before finding life and love was Before Yuuri.

Laughing to himself, Victor slides his feet into his house slippers. He can't wait to share his latest innovation with the man in question. "Yuu—" he stops short, nearly swallowing his own tongue.

Yuuri has come out to greet him.

In the lingerie apron.

In nothing but the lingerie apron.

"Um," says Yuuri, tugging fruitlessly at the edge of the apron, calling attention to his creamy, thick thighs. "In celebration of your return to modeling and acting, and um, Yurio completing his mission, and… and Minako winning her case in Tokyo, um…" He gives a sheepish smile. "Tada?"

"Tada?" Victor croaks weakly. "Isn't it supposed to be, 'which do you want, bath, dinner, or me'?"

"It – It's embarrassing enough without me saying anything of that romance manga cliches!" Yuuri blurts out. "I mean, the fox thinks I could do better, but—"

"Tada works," Victor tells him.

Pink tinges Yuuri's cheeks, and his eyes turn so hopeful and bright that Victor really wants to kiss him right now. "Great. But um." Yuuri fidgets with the lace on the edges. "Just so you know, this is a one-time deal. I just… wanted to see what it felt like. Just the once."

Victor steps forward and scoops Yuuri up into a princess hold, relishing in the feel of warm, bare skin burning against the fabric of his Armani suit. "Then let's make this one time count," he purrs.

Yuuri giggles and blushes harder, and Victor sees faint hints of gold bleeding into the brown eyes. "YOLO," Yuuri whispers hot and wet against Victor's ear.

And oh, did they live.

The werewolf picks himself off the ground, shaking away the ringing in his ears. The force of the grenade has singed the furs on his back and sent him flying. The bomb holds the scents and markings of none other than Christophe Giacometti, and if Christophe is nearby, so is Victor Nikiforov. There were rumors that the two hunters had left Russia for good, and for a while, it seemed as though the rumors were true. Some hunter called Plisetsky and his vampire bodyguard swept in instead, cleaning up the mess that started in Nikiforov's absence. (They're good, but they're young and inexperienced.) Then, as luck would have it, the silver-tongued bastard return to Russia with his gun-toting partner, hunting down more demons in the last three weeks of their comeback than their entire hunting career combined.

As the smoke clears, the werewolf makes out the familiar forms in the distance.

"You know how we feel about your eating humans," Victor says, clicking his tongue. Beside him, Christophe tosses a grenade up and down, lips quirked in a lopsided smile. "Can you only behave yourself when we're around?"

The werewolf bares his fangs, hackles rising. Their human stench fills his nostrils, churns up the hunger and cravings in his belly. "I am not your pet, Nikiforov!"

"Clearly not, or you wouldn't be quite so disobedient." Victor grins then, like a sudden afterthought, and the werewolf's muscles tense instinctively. But the hunter doesn't reach for his arrows, doesn't even move. "To tell the truth, I also wanted to introduce you to my zolotse, my lover, my new partner. If he doesn't make you behave, no one else will. Don't you agree, Chris?"

Christophe throws the werewolf a saucy wink. "He'll make you want to submit, like a good little boy."

The werewolf has had enough. Snarling, he lunges, just as Victor and Christophe step aside to reveal another behind them.

The last things the poor creature remembers are a flash of navy blue, silver blades whirling in three different directions…

… and a pair of brilliant, golden eyes.

Notes

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