Epilogue:

It had been twelve months since Yuuri had moved to St Petersburg with Viktor. He had barely interacted with anyone else within the skating community over that time. Other than those that he trained with at Yakov's rink, of course. Yuuri had been skating with Yuri Plisetsky and Georgi Popovich with the occasional appearance of Mila Babicheva, however she would mostly just tease Yuri about how short he was. Yuuri enjoyed the pleasant atmosphere. He hadn't realised how much he had missed having rink mates until he had them back again.

That's not to say that he found interacting with them easy. It had taken Yuuri two months after arriving in Russia before he had felt comfortable to say more than a few words to the two men that he had shared the ice with. He had spent his time with Viktor, planning his new routine. The man had been Yuuri's anchor. Yuuri knew that he would have not survived those first months without Viktor's constant support.

Yuuri had only broken his silence to Yuri and Georgi after the young blonde had caught Yuuri on a less than great day. He had been stress eating at the only Japanese restaurant that he had been able to find in the area near Viktor's apartment; Katsudon, of course. It was not as good as the one that his mum used to make; not that he wanted to be reminded of the woman that had rejected him. But the food was hitting the spot. Viktor had a photoshoot for the upcoming season and as it was the one day off a week that the skaters got off from Yakov's regime.

The young blonde had seen Yuuri through the shop window. Scowl on his face, he had marched into the room with a vicious scowl on his face.

"What are you doing? The season is starting soon. What the hell are you…what is that?" Yuri scowled as he looked at the half eaten bowl before Yuuri. "It looks like its made entirely of fat. Is that why you are eating it, you fat piggy?!"

Yuuri gave a small scowl to the younger man with the same name. He knew that he shouldn't be eating it but why did Yuri care. Instead of responding to the insults that the other Yuri was still throwing at him he picked up the bowl that still sat before him.

"Try it" Yuuri said quietly to the blonde.

"What?" Yuri was broken from his rant as he stared at the older man with his name.

Yuuri simply pushed the bowl across the table and indicated to the spare seat across from him.

"Try it," he repeated.

Yuri sat down slowly looking from Yuuri to the bowl in front of him. He clumsily grasped the chopsticks in his hands and picked up the bowl. He took slurp of the food and then looked up with wide eyes at the man before him.

"What is that Piggy? It's delicious."

"It's Katsudon" Yuuri smiled at the younger Yuri "You like it then?"

After that the two had had a rather pleasant relationship. On their days off, Yuuri would often take Yuri to various Japanese restaurants and Yuri would take him to some Russian ones. Of course, this was only when Viktor had other things to do. Yuri refused to be seen out with 'the old man' as he insisted on calling Viktor.

However as the season had begun both Yuri and Yuuri had been rather preoccupied with their competitions. However the pair had attended different qualifiers, just as Viktor had. Yuri had attended Skate Canada and Trophée de France. He had won a gold in France and been nearly incandescent with rage as he received a Silver against JJ.

Yuuri had attended the Cup of China and the NHK trophy. Whereas Viktor had attended the Rostelecom Cup and Eric Lumbard. They had managed to still maintain the facade that the two barely knew each other. Yuuri was not ready to come out to the world as the thief that stole Victor Nikiforov from them.

However, both Yuuri and Viktor had been there to congratulate their partner at the two golds that they had each won. Yet, other than his brief talks with Viktor after the match he had utterly avoided all media and any contact with the other skaters within the community. Even though it had only been two months since the qualifiers, Yuuri would have not been able to talk to the others back then. Yuuri supposed that the ring on his finger had something to do with that.

Yuuri himself had change; a lot. He was nothing like the young man that had boarded the plane with Viktor. He was totally different now. It had taken a long time and it had not been easy by any stretch of the imagination, but Yuuri was getting there. He had a strong base of support; people that accepted him for who he was now.

Yuri may be a little shit at times, but he had seen Yuuri's performances and he respected him as a skater and dare Yuuri say it, saw him as a friend. Yakov, after some convincing, had become Yuuri's coach along with the other skaters. His no-shit attitude meant that Yuuri either had to sink or swim in his classes. It had helped him overcome some of the self doubt that had plagued him for so long. He realised he could swim and swim well at that. The councillor that Yuuri had been seeing once a week had also helped significantly in that endeavour.

However the person that had helped Yuuri the most was Viktor. The man was the anchor that kept his ship from being tossed into the raging sea. That was how he found himself now standing hand in hand with the man walking into the foyer of the CCIB where this years Grand Prix was to be held. They both ignored the flashes cameras that followed them; they assumed the pictures to be all over the internet within the hour.

They spent their time in the changing rooms, preparing for the days events. It seemed that they had arrived before any of the other skaters. Yuuri was relieved. Yuuri was the first skater of the day and he needed somewhere private to warm up. Private with Viktor of course. Viktor was the fourth to compete today leaving him enough time to finish his own warm up and assist with Yuuri's. The two retreated to the underground carpark; avoiding contact with others.

Yuuri felt slightly bad for denying Viktor time to mingle with the other competitors. However the man was his. He knew it was selfish but after a year together and the gold band that Viktor had accepted onto his finger was proof of that. The man had accepted the burden that was himself the moment he had opened that hotel door. Yuuri would do anything for the man before him and knew that the same rang true for Viktor. He was never letting go of the man.

Yuuri stood by the side of the rink. They had done their warm up and now it was him. It was his turn to show the world what he was made of. Now that he was here with Viktor nothing else mattered. The man before him would watch every step. Every move. Yuuri would make him. He would not be able to look away.

He skated onto the ice; standing at its centre. The gentle sound of Elvis Presley's Can't Help Falling In Love came though the speakers. Yuuri smiled. It was filled with longing, sincerity and devotion. His eyes pinned the man standing at barrier. He skated.

He was moving like he had never done so before. Every move was for Viktor. Every one a declaration of love to the man before him. His jumps were perfection; each movement seeming to flow like a stream. Never wavering of faltering; nothing more than beauty and love.

He stopped. His final pose one of seduction as he panted rapidly. Sweat dripped down his face as he attempted to regain his breath. The crowd froze. None of them had ever seen anything like that. Then chaos broke loose. Things were flung onto the ice and the applause was deafening. Yuri grinned; his eyes pinned to Viktor.

He had to get to him. Yuuri threw himself across the ice toward the man, his fiancé, who was waiting at the side of the rink. Yuuri threw himself into the man's arms and pulled him closer than he thought possible. He just couldn't let go of him.

"I love you" he whispered.

Viktor looked down at his fiancé, adoration and love clear in his eyes.

"I love you too. You're so beautiful."

Viktor pulled up his fiancé's chin and his lips quickly engulfed his fiancé in a kiss more passionate than most had ever seen. This was his Yuuri. They belonged to each other. They were made for each other. The man before him, was so perfect.

Cameras flashed faster than seemed possible. It seemed that in a second, the two had changed the face of Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki forever.


Viktor took Yuuri's hand in his and pulled him toward the tipsy group of figure skaters that littered the dance floor.

"No Viktor" Yuuri whispered averting his gaze. "I can't…there's too many people."

Viktor gave a wide grin to his fiancé. He used his free hand to pull up Yuuri's chin forcing his eyes to his. Viktor leaned forward and firmly pressed his lips to those in front of his. One hand dropped from Yuuri's and pulled the younger man closer to him as the kiss continued.

His other hand gently caressed his fiancé's cheek as he released the perfect lips. His head came forward, his breath hot on Yuuri's ear.

"Just keep your eyes on me" Viktor whispered seductively "and dance." His smile was brilliant as he once again attempted to pull Yuuri onto the dance floor. This time there was no resistance. Yuuri kept his eyes fixed on Viktor's. Viktor returned the attention. The two seemed to loose the world around them.

"So those two really are a couple?" Chris asked the question that was on all of their lips as they all watched, entranced at the couple before them.

Yuri gave a huff of disgust as he watched the two before him. This was the first of these gatherings that he had been allowed to. Yakov had stopped him from drinking the champagne and now here were these two love sick fools further ruining his night.

"Well, of course. Plus it's them, how else are the two going to spend the night before their wedding? They're sickening" Yuuri sneered. Chris looked to the bronze medalist with shock on his face.

"Yuri…what? What do you mean? Married?" The man was, for the first time, almost speechless.

"Well yeah, Yuuri won gold." The Russian Punk walked off toward the buffet table, as though his words explained everything. Chris, along with the rest of the skaters around him watched the young Russian go with a dumbfounded look, before looking back to the lovestruck couple that were still dancing; looking at only each other.