Author's Notes: A lot happens in this chapter. A LOT. Also, please note that the next update won't be for a while as I'm descending into finals hell for the next few weeks.

As always, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Victor does a quick sweep of the tiny room. There's just enough walking space around the bed for one average-sized adult to cross to the bathroom and to the front door, a small desk against the wall, and a little window above the side of the bed. Even Victor, who's had his share of budget business hotels before his big break in the acting/modeling industry (and Yakov's unlimited spending account), feels a tad claustrophobic.

"At least breakfast is provided," the Russian hunter concludes.

"While you get to enjoy your sleeping beauty's home cooked meals and comfy apartment," Christophe drawls, sprawled across the bed, tendrils of smoke drifting from the end of his cigarette.

"You got me a good flow of photo shoots and runway gigs." Victor sits on the edge of the bed, listening warily to the creaking sounds that emerge. "Why not move to a nicer inn?"

"My girls are more important," Christophe blows a ring of smoke upwards. "How about finally taking me on a youkai hunt?"

"Fine. I'll ask Yuuri if you can join us on the next mission."

"Is this how it works now?" Christophe grins. "Buy one demon hunter, get a sexy youkai exterminator for free?"

"You're not getting a sexy youkai exterminator," Victor corrects, "Just the privilege of his sexy presence."

"Lucky me," Christophe snorts.

It's been months since Victor moved in with Yuuri, and it has been the happiest, thrilling, most frustrating time of his life. Every day, he learns something new about the Japanese man: how Yuuri is an irate (but adorable) grump for the first half hour of every morning, how his hair sticks up in every possible direction before he combs it down, how he eats his favorite food last, how he loves cold chocolate milk after a bath, how his nose wrinkles when he does that sweet, light laugh… really, Victor could write an entire book on his angel, and he hasn't even touched on the man's battle quirks, which is a whole other book on its own.

In battle, Yuuri is formidable, assertive, and downright vicious even. Victor's not sure if it's the youkai blood or Yuuri's use of fights as stress relief, but the Japanese exterminator is merciless with his kills, swinging out his staff sections and striking at targets with cold, brutal precision. And then there's the way he takes command, like an experienced sergeant barking out orders on the war front. Whatever the reason, the gap between Yuuri in battle and Yuuri at home only heightens the electrifying sensations Victor feels in Yuuri's presence.

Now if only Yuuri would just put their damn futons together.

"By the way, I've been getting messages from Yuri about needing us back home. Russian Yuri," Victor adds when his partner quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Well that's going to be confusing." Christophe stretches over for his cellphone in the corner of the bed and taps at the screen a few times. "I haven't received anything from him."

"He stopped sending you messages after you kept replying in innuendos."

Christophe's teeth flash, cigarette dangling between his lips. "Can I help it when he has the best reactions?"

Victor laughs. "Fair point."

"So what'd you say to him?"

"Nothing. I haven't responded."

Christophe makes a disapproving grunt. "You'd better respond, Vic," he warns, "You know how Yuri can get when he's pissed off."

Victor shrugs. "He's a whole ocean away. What's the worst he can do?"

Holding the cigarette, Christophe exhales. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

FROM: Angel
[That's so nice of your partner to come visit. (*^-^) We actually just got a mission for tonight, so he can join us if he's ready.]

TO: Angel
[Thank you, Yuuri! Remember: you have my permission to cut off his balls if he touches you in a bad place! ]

FROM: Angel
[Um okay]

TO: Angel
[Oh, one another thing!]

TO: Angel
[Does Seung-gil stock blessed bullets?]

Yuuri gawks at the huge arsenal of guns spread out on a mat on the floor. "How did you get all that past airport customs?"

"Trade secret," Christophe winks, spinning a pistol round a forefinger.

Unsure of what they might face, Christophe had decided to bring his most beloved selections of his 'girls': favorite pistols, shotguns, automatic and semi-automatic rifles, and even a number of small grenades. It seems that Eastern exterminators hardly dabble in such weaponry, because Phichit and Yuuri reacted with amazement when the Swiss hunter laid out rows and rows of his firearms across the mat.

"Holy shit," Phichit picks up an assault rifle, twisting and turning it about with delight, "I've never held one of these, like, ever. Can I try it out?"

"Be my guest."

"Fire that gun in my office and I will break every bone in your body, Chulanont." Entering the office, Seung-gil flings a large pouch at Christophe, lips curling in contempt. "Here's your bullets back, hunter. Try not to waste them; I refuse to spend any more of my energy performing rites on your crude weapons."

Victor looks up from scanning an ancient book of magical tomes on the desk. "You blessed them?" he asks incredulously.

"Seung-gil's also a priest for one of the local Inari shrines," Yuuri says, hiding a smile behind his hand, while Seung-gil scowls darkly. "He performs the daily prayer rites every morning."

"Not that he looks the part," Phichit sniggers, swinging the rifle and testing its weight.

"Put that down before you blow someone's head off," Seung-gil snatches the gun and throws it haphazardly to the mat with a loud metallic noise.

"Watch it!" Christophe yelps in horror. "That's a circa 1949 AK-47!"

"And a third of my hard earned cash," Victor quips, enjoying the sound of Yuuri's responding laugh.

"Your next target," Seung-gil starts over Christophe's soft cooing at the assault rifle, "Is a bird youkai that has been terrorizing the locals and killing any unfortunate idiot who wonders into its territory. C-level ranking, not much report on its abilities... though one does mention something about some kind of wailing."

"Like a banshee?" Victor cocks his head curiously.

"We've had our share of banshees," Christophe notes as he delicately sets the rifle back on the mat.

"You'll find that youkai have a larger and more nuanced range of abilities than your backward demons," Seung-gil sniffs, his disdain for Western hunting on full display tonight. "Isn't that right, Gumiho?"

"I've never met a demon, so I wouldn't know," Yuuri coughs awkwardly, shooting an apologetic look at Victor. The Russian hunter smiles reassuringly in return; how very endearing of Yuuri to be considerate of his partner's feelings. (Honestly, Christophe could take monkey feces to the face and not bat an eyelid.) "Where can we find the target?"

"Somewhere near the abandoned hospital on the west side of town."

"We're probably going to need the Sweepers then," Phichit points out.

"Already alerted them," Seung-gil says, before nodding at the mat of firearms with a black look. "Now get your boorish shit out of my office and go do your job."

"What are Sweepers again?"

"They're like a group of janitors that clean up any destruction left behind in missions. Can't have regular folks asking why the roads and buildings have giant holes in them."

Victor beams in admiration. "Japan thinks of everything!"

"They're very organized that way." Phichit shoots the Russian man a sidelong glance. "So Christophe's your partner, huh?"

"Hunting partner," Victor specifies, turning his gaze to Christophe. The four of them are walking around the perimeter of the hospital, searching for their target, and somehow Christophe and Yuuri have managed to gravitate to each other. The Swiss hunter is engaged in conversation with Yuuri, gesturing at the guns strapped to his waist and back while the smaller man nods, eyes alight with interest. There's a slight jab of envy – if only his hunting skills also held Yuuri's fascination in that manner.

"So long as that's all there is to it," Phichit shrugs.

"Chris and me?" Victor laughs at the absurdity of the idea, "The man's a walking STD."

"I heard that," Christophe says up front, amusement oozing out of his voice. "At least I'm not being blue-balled with my greatest fantasy sleeping in the same – "

"Thank you, Chris," Victor cuts in hurriedly, as Yuuri casts a curious look at him. It's a good thing his angel has the observational density of a thick brick.

Phichit, on the other hand, sports a knowing smirk. "So… blue-balled, huh?" he says, dropping his voice to barely a whisper.

"It's not – "

And then, in that next moment, something shrieks into Victor's consciousness, sharp and piercing and so intense that he's driven to his knees, clutching at his head in pain.

"Fuck," Christophe swears, "Definitely nothing like a banshee!"

"Above us!" Phichit grits his teeth and, with shocking doggedness, musters enough strength through the pain to throw his sword upwards.

There's another shriek, externally this time, and the noise in his mind begins to fade. Ears still ringing, Victor glances up see a phoenix hovering in the sky, its beak wide open as it releases another loud screech. The bird is a magnificent sight, its massive body covered with gold and red feathers, shimmering in the moonlight. Long tail feathers glide gracefully behind as the creature flows through the air, slow and measured.

The sword reappears in Phichit's hand, and the Thai man whirls on Christophe, who is picking himself off the ground, shaking his head. "You and Victor have the best weapons for this youkai," Phichit instructs sharply, "Make sure to kill it before it recharges its psychic ability."

"Roger that." Tearing a rifle off his back, Christophe releases the safety catch and starts firing rounds of shots at the youkai, the rapid bursts lighting up his side profile in the darkness. "Not that I know anything about Japanese folktales, but isn't that bird supposed to symbolize prosperity or something?" he shouts over the phoenix's screams of rage, "I feel like we'll get some karmic retribution for this!"

Victor can't tell if Christophe's question is directed at him or not, but he couldn't care less: his attention is entirely drawn to Phichit as he rushes to Yuuri further down the street.

By now, the Japanese exterminator would have recovered from whatever surprise their target has thrown at them and initiated a counterattack, silver blades carving death in their path. This time, however, Yuuri looks as if he's still reeling on his hands and knees, spear lying forgotten by his side. Even the typically chipper Phichit is murmuring in Yuuri's ear with a frantic expression on his face.

Something is wrong with Yuuri.

Mind brimming with worry, Victor is about to run to the other man when someone tackles him, sending him crashing to the hard concrete. A gust of wind sweeps above, ruffling his silver hair.

"If you don't mind," Christophe drawls close to his ear; Victor catches a glimpse of the phoenix youkai's tail feathers, the creature soaring back up into the sky for another dive, "You can stare at your boy after we've toppled the angry bird."

"Sorry, it's just…" Victor looks into Christophe's disapproving face and inhales deeply. Phichit left them in charge of exterminating the youkai and he's not helping Yuuri by being distracted. Shoving Christophe off, he rolls to his feet and strings arrows to his bow with fierce determination. "Let's do this, Chris."

"That's more like it," Christophe's lips curve as he switches his rifle with a shotgun.

They work well as a pair with their offensive strategy of straight-up relentless attacking: Victor firing off arrows when Christophe reloads and Christophe covering for Victor with his dead-shot aim. Their usual strategy appears to be working, as the bird's movements grow less graceful, its screams sounding more pained. It becomes clear through the fight why the phoenix is only ranked at a C; its massive size and slow speed make it an easy target. As long as they keep this up, Victor thinks triumphantly, as long as neither he nor Christophe run out of arrows or ammunition, they can claim victory over the youkai, and he can finally, finally return his full attention to his ailing angel.

Unfortunately, Murphy's Law applies even in the supernatural realm.

Flapping high into the sky, the phoenix spreads its wings, feathers bristling.

"Watch out," Yuuri calls – weakly, Victor notes with alarm – "It's going to – "

The shriek that reverberates through his mind somehow feels worse than the last.

Collapsing to the ground, vision turning almost white with agony, Victor thinks he hears another scream mixed within. Then, as suddenly as the pain started, reality surges back to him, and Phichit's grabbing him by the arm, hauling him to his feet.

"We have to get out of here," Phichit says, eyes hard as steel.

"What? But the youkai – "

"We have to get out of here," Phichit says again. Something in the man's voice makes Victor feel he should obey. Snagging the collar of Christophe's denim jacket, Victor drags his stunned partner with him as the three of them make a dash towards the hospital, away from the open streets.

"Why are we hiding?" Christophe demands once they've thrown themselves through the front doors of the hospital, "Victor and I were so close to slaying that thing."

"Trust me, that's the last thing you want to worry about now," Phichit mutters. Pieces of thin papers materialize in his left hand and he heads to the closest window to peer outside.

For a while, the youkai's distinct screeching grows louder and louder, punctured by something that sounds disconcertingly like multiple knives ripping through flesh. And then, abruptly, it stops.

After so much noise, the silence is almost deafening.

As Victor looks around them, his mind finally clear of the high-pitched buzzing, a sudden realization chills the adrenaline in his blood into cold horror.

"Phichit," he says quietly. "Where's Yuuri?"

As if on cue, the window by Phichit shatters, and there's a flash of familiar gold in the darkness.

It's not Yuuri.

It can't be Yuuri.

Yuuri's features are soft and kind, not hardened with cruelty, lips twisted into a dangerous smirk; Yuuri's stature is tall enough for him to rest his chin on Victor's shoulder, not tower over them with a suffocating aura; Yuuri's hands are gentle and delicate, not rigidly curled with black claws protruding in place of his nails.

And most of all – most important of all – his Yuuri's face wouldn't be covered with blood, the thick liquid dripping with an eerie pit-pat that echoes through the abandoned building.

The creature that looks like Yuuri appears to be studying them quietly, claws flexing. That gold, the beautiful gold that has held Victor's fascination at first sight, now glows with a sinister menace as it roves about with deliberate languidness. When the intense gaze lands on Victor, the hunter can't decide if the pounding in his chest is a result of fear or deep, heated arousal, especially when those eyes turn hooded, and a small, pink tongue darts out to lick salaciously at plush lips. He has only ever seen Yuuri display such raw sensuality in his darkest fantasies, and being "blue-balled" for the past month – hearing Yuuri's soft breathing so close, yet so, so far – isn't helping, either.

Yuuri is taking a step towards Victor when Phichit breaks the silence, snapping them out of their spell.

"Yuuri, buddy," the Yaksha coaxes gently, "You don't want to eat a Russian. They're tough and gamey, and you hate gamey meat."

The golden eyes slide to Phichit and slant to narrow slits.

In the time it takes for Victor to feel somewhat affronted, Yuuri has charged forward, leaping towards Phichit with lightning speed. Cursing, Phichit hurls sheets of papers at Yuuri, but the other man dodges them with ease, before slamming his claws into Phichit's armored chest and sending them flying out the window.

Stunned, Christophe turns to Victor in the quiet that follows. "What the hell just happened?"

"I don't know," Victor grips his bow so tight that his knuckles turn white, "But we won't find out by staying in here."

As they sprint out of the hospital towards the sounds of fighting – how did the two manage to travel this far in such a short span of time? – Victor recalls Yuuri's sweet joy at hearing Victor's appreciation of his gold eyes, Phichit's unsubtle diversion from the truth of Yuuri's youkai blood, and Phichit's desperate efforts to calm Yuuri in the middle of battle.

"It really only surfaces when I'm pushing my body past its limits, like when I'm in danger or in pain..."

The hidden truth behind Yuuri's words hits Victor then, and he curses himself for being so oblivious to all the signs. Of course, with Yuuri's heightened senses, the phoenix youkai's psychic shrieks would have caused the exterminator far more pain than the rest of them – pain that would have pushed the beast within him to the surface.

"Christ," breathes Christophe as they run past the body of what used to be the phoenix, torn to shreds and dashed across the street like some horrific road kill. "Is that what happens they get exterminated?"

"No," says Victor, putting on an extra burst of speed, "That's what happens when another youkai gets to it first."

Christophe shoots him a piercing look.

Ahead of them, Phichit's parrying off Yuuri's ferocious attack, matching the half-youkai's swipes blow for blow. Each time the claws make contact with armor, a shrilling noise rings out, horrific as nails down a chalkboard. And each time there's a gap, Phichit would thrust another thin piece of paper at Yuuri, only to have it evaded or ripped apart by those same claws.

Watching the fight, Victor's battle-experienced mind swiftly forms two simple connections:

1) Whatever that paper is, youkai Yuuri clearly doesn't like it.

2) If youkai Yuuri doesn't like it, it must be the key to getting his angel back.

"We'll have to distract Yuuri so Phichit can get that paper on him," Victor turns to Christophe.

"That flimsy thing?" Christophe frowns. "You sure about that?"

"No, but it's all we've got."

It's a sign of their deep trust in each other that Christophe nods without further questions, yanking out a pistol from his belt with a cocky spin. Victor is grateful, truly, and he does trust Christophe to do the right thing, but he also feels the need to make one thing extremely clear. Clasping the gun barrel, the Russian hunter jerks it to the side for his partner's full attention.

"Don't hurt Yuuri," Victor orders firmly.

"Fine but no guarantees." Christophe rolls his eyes, before he twists round to fire a shot above the fighting pair. "Hey, gorgeous!" The beautiful golden eyes flicker in their direction, flashing eerily, and Victor shivers at the mix of fear and excitement welling inside him. "How about taking me on for a good time?"

There's a pause as Yuuri lifts his chin, as though contemplating the offer.

"Uh guys," Phichit says, blinking, "I think you're severely underestimating – "

It becomes painfully obvious what exactly they are underestimating, when Yuuri is suddenly nose-to-nose with Christophe in the blink of an eye, claws raised high in the air. (Victor realizes that they might also have been severely underestimating Phichit; the Yaksha's tendency to work as back-up in missions has clearly obscured his true capabilities.) In panic, Christophe's hand jolts forward, finger pulling back on the trigger –

"No," cries Victor, letting loose an arrow. Yuuri leaps away with a snarl, just as the arrowhead hits its mark, sending the pistol flying out of Christophe's hand.

Christophe barely has a chance to yell at Victor before Yuuri instantly returns to his now defenseless prey, smashing the Swiss hunter to the ground with such alacrity that Victor is unable to react.

"Phichit," Christophe roars, just as Yuuri's lips curl up to reveal sharp fangs.

"On it!"

Appearing in the timeliest manner, Phichit slaps a paper on Yuuri's forehead and claps his hands together to recite a foreign chant.

Victor winces when Yuuri releases an animalistic howl, frame blurring as the dark aura around him shrinks and expands with each passing second. The sight is so reminiscent of a demon being exorcised that Victor has to turn his gaze away, refusing to think of his angel as some creature to be put away from this earth. (If anything, he should be forever immortalized.) As the last traces of youkai fade away, Yuuri's eyes finally dull to a soft brown and he slumps over Christophe in an unconscious heap.

"Yuuri!" Phichit and Victor yelp in unison, pulling the Japanese man off Christophe to examine him for injuries.

"Yep, I'm fine, no one worry about me," grumbles Christophe in the background.

"Is he all right?" Victor asks worriedly, brushing loose hair out of Yuuri's face, blanching at the feel of blood on his fingertips. Not his, Victor has to remind himself. Not his.

"He will be," Phichit nods, patting Yuuri's cheek with clear relief. "All he needs is rest and he'll be back to normal."

"Normal?"

A Japanese man steps out of the shadows, lips drawn in a nasty sneer. Dressed in a traditional kimono and long hair drawn into a low ponytail, the man has his hands tucked in the long sleeves as he shuffles closer to them in his wooden clogs. "I would not call that creature normal," he continues, English lilting heavily in his thick Japanese accent.

"Stalking us again, Murase?" Phichit snarls, and Victor glances at him in surprise; he has never heard that tone of voice in the Thai man before. "Surely you have something better to do at this time of night."

"Oh but it is my job to monitor youkai movements," says Murase, eyes darting down to Yuuri.

Instinctively, Victor drapes a protective arm round Yuuri, glowering, just as Phichit tenses visibly beside him. Now on his feet, Christophe saunters over to stand between them and Murase, pulling out a cigarette and lighter from his jeans pocket. "In other words, you get off on stalking pretty boys like Yuuri here," the Swiss hunter drawls as he casually lights the cigarette.

"Say what you wish, hunter from the West," Murase's sneer broadens, "But you shall see soon enough. Death follows all youkai, whether they have human blood or not."

"Yuuri is human with youkai blood," Victor snaps, prickling with irritation.

"For now, hunter. For now." Murase turns and walks away, clogs clacking ominously down the street.

It's after Yuuri has been cleaned, clothed, and safely tucked in his futon that Phichit sits them down to explain everything.

Though Yuuri's youkai blood serves to enhance his fighting skills and abilities when released in controlled doses, what they experienced tonight was a full transformation of Yuuri's unsuppressed inner beast, brought about – as Victor suspected – by the pain of the phoenix youkai's psychic attacks. In that state, Yuuri is lost completely to his youkai side – a savage and highly intelligent creature that enjoys killing.

"Not all fox youkai are this bloodthirsty," Phichit clarifies, "But it wouldn't be a curse if all it did was give him a half-baked makeover with claws and fangs, would it?"

"So how long has this been going on?" Christophe asks, snapping his lighter at the tip of his cigarette.

"No smoking in here," Victor says absently while Christophe pouts.

"I don't know when he first turned, but he did mention training under some exterminator called Hisashi Morooka to learn how to suppress his youkai side when he was eight." Phichit frowns, folding his arms across his chest. "The youkai's gotten stronger, though. I used to be able to physically beat the beast back in, but with the increasing speed and strength, it's nearly impossible to do that now. Just getting the charms on him is starting to be a chore."

"So the paper things – "

"Charms," Phichit repeats, lips quirking in bemusement.

"Charms," Christophe amends with a shrug. "What exactly do they do?"

"They seal youkai away, typically into a vessel of sorts. In Yuuri's case, his body acts as the vessel so it banishes the youkai back inside him.

"Makes sense." Resting his head on his hand, Christophe stretches out on the tatami mat, white tank riding up to reveal chiseled abs. "You also said his youkai side has gotten stronger?"

"Much stronger."

"Is that why that stalker said what he said back there?"

Phichit puffs up with anger, face twisting into a scowl. "Hideaki Murase is the head of the Exterminator Society in Saga and the biggest asshole you'll ever meet."

"I can believe that," Victor growls.

"But he's not wrong," Phichit admits, deflating as his eyes flick over to Yuuri. "The more Yuuri changes into his youkai form, the more it's going to take over. Until, well…"

"We won't let that happen," Victor says, his back straightening. "I won't let that happen."

Phichit flashes a smile at him so tinged with sadness that Victor feels his chest constrict. "Glad one of us is still hopeful," the Yaksha murmurs.

"On that delightful note," Christophe clears his throat loudly in the resulting silence, "Think I'll head back for a good smoke and some beauty sleep."

"I'll walk with you," Phichit offers. Eyes soft, he turns to Victor as he rises to his feet, armor clanking. "Take care of Yuuri for me, will you? And text me when he's up."

"I will," Victor promises, shifting closer to Yuuri's futon to keep vigil until the other man awakens. He wonders what his parents would say if they found out that their only son and heir of the Nikiforov hunter legacy has fallen for a man who is slowly but surely turning into a full youkai. He wonders, too, what his fans would say if they knew his heart had been taken by someone who could literally take his actual heart out with the black claws, all while those bright, gold eyes bore with fierce intensity into his - a thought that shoots up a combination of fear and euphoria through his veins.

And then he wonders, also, what it would be like if Yuuri could access his inner youkai's lasciviousness.

But that can come later. First, he has to find a way to stop the transformation. Victor presses a kiss on Yuuri's forehead. First, he has to make sure his angel is all right.

One minute Yuuri was asleep, lying under the covers; the next, he's sitting upright, staring into space.

Fatigued and deprived of sleep, Victor practically jumps out of his skin when he returns from the kitchen, nearly spilling coffee onto the mats. He takes a moment to recover, before he sets the coffee mug carefully on the floor and drops to his knees beside Yuuri with a bright smile. "You're finally awake, my sleeping beau – " At the sight of Yuuri's gut-wrenchingly despondent look, the Russian hunter halts immediately, smile falling.

"Did… did I hurt anyone?" Yuuri asks softly, and Victor feels his stomach twist painfully.

"You didn't hurt anyone," Victor reaches to take Yuuri's hands in his, "We're all fine."

"How can you be, after seeing – " Yuuri exhales shakily, squeezing his eyes shut as though trying hard to block out the images. "I can't believe this happened, in front of you, in front of Victor Nikiforov…"

"Yuuri, I'm fine," Victor says firmly, "Would I still be here if I wasn't?"

"You're just being kind."

"I'm here because I want to be here. With you."

The brown eyes snap open, wide and welling with tears. "Why would you say that when you know what a monster I am?"

"Yuuri…" It's not an attractive sort of crying. As an actor, Victor has seen his fair share of pretty cries, with single tear tracks running perfectly down both cheeks. Even so, even with Yuuri's face contorting with emotion, forehead creasing in the most unsightly fashion, Victor's heart swells with affection for the Japanese man. Lifting Yuuri's hands to his lips, he kisses each of them tenderly. "You're not a monster."

Shaking his head, Yuuri lowers his gaze, bangs falling over his eyes. "You don't know what I've done. I've hurt people, innocent people."

"You weren't in control."

"But isn't that worse? I wasn't in control, and I may lose all control someday. The Exterminator Society has been trying to crack down on half-Youkai for decades; the head of the Saga branch even said - "

"Murase's a piece of shit," Victor says serenely.

Yuuri looks up then, inhaling sharply. "You've met Murase?"

"Briefly."

"So he knows your affiliation with me," Yuuri's gaze drops to the covers again, tears falling anew. "This is a nightmare. I thought, at least, none of this would happen while you were here, but then it did, and now you're getting involved in things you shouldn't be involved in..."

"Yuuri," Victor squeezes Yuuri's hands gently, "Yuuri, look at me." When the brown eyes slowly, hesitantly pull up to meet his, Victor leans in close, dropping his voice. "When I first met you, I thought, what a painting. What a gorgeous, captivating piece of art. If Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships, you would've brought world peace; men would have fallen to their knees, overwhelmed, weeping over your unearthly beauty."

Yuuri blinks, fat droplets of tears rolling down his cheeks. "W-What are you - "

"Let me finish," Victor hums, resting a finger on Yuuri's lips. "It was at dinner that I realized: you weren't just another fighter with a pretty face. You're sweet, and kind, and generous... and you care so much. Too much. So Yuuri," he squeezes Yuuri's hands again, "I don't care what Murase or anyone else might have said about you. And I don't care about what's to come. No matter what happens, you will always be, to me, the most beautiful angel to walk this earth."

For a beat, Yuuri just sniffles, bottom lip quivering, and Victor tenses. If romantic monologues won't work, there's really only one other move he has up his sleeve in his 'soothe a crying partner' repertoire – and it's the one thing he was storing for the perfect moment.

This is definitely not that moment.

Then, to Victor's immense relief, Yuuri huffs out a tiny laugh. "You stole that last line from your movie, 'My Cheating Ex."

"You're well-versed with my movies, I see," Victor teases lightly, delighting in Yuuri's responding blush. "But I do mean what I said," he murmurs, cupping Yuuri's cheek, gently swiping away what he hopes to be the last of his angel's tears with his thumb, "You will always be exquisite to me, inside and out."

Yuuri trembles as he swallows nervously. "Even if... Even if I could really hurt you?"

"Even if you could really hurt me." The hunter kisses Yuuri's forehead and turns to pick up the coffee mug. "Go back to sleep. I'd like to catch a few winks myself."

As Victor pads to the kitchen to empty the mug in the sink, he assumes by Yuuri's silence that the other man has simply sunk back under the covers for more rest. The last thing he expects is for Yuuri to timidly call his name and defy all his expectations in one single question:

"Can we put our futons together? Just for tonight?"

Within seconds, Victor has his futon shoved so fast and so close to Yuuri's that it bunches up from the sudden movement, bringing out Yuuri's startled but oh-so-sweet laugh.

They sleep together then, finally, with Victor's nose buried deep in the crown of black hair and Yuuri curled in Victor's arms, clinging so very tightly, as though he thinks Victor would evaporate away in his sleep. It doesn't resolve Victor's frustration by any means, but it counts as a giant step in their relationship, and Victor isn't about to complain.

Especially when 'just for tonight' turns out to mean 'every night from then on'.

It takes a while for life to return to normal – or as normal as it can go for two supernatural hunters – but Victor is amazed to find that he's actually glad when it does. For the first time, he looks forward to waking to the alarm every morning just for a glimpse of Yuuri's grouchy face and sleep-mussed hair. And he can't wait to return home after a shoot to Yuuri's warm presence and, if Yuuri's erratic schedule permits, a steaming hot meal waiting for him in the kitchen. It's all so routine and so very ordinary, and yet, Victor enjoys every minute of it. Perhaps normalcy isn't quite as bad as he thought.

Or, maybe, it has more to do with the fact that the Japanese half-youkai still manages to surprise him every now and then.

Take now, for instance.

Victor can't quite recall how it happened. He was taking pictures of Yuuri on his cellphone – an apron with frills, his beauty was in an apron with frills; thank you God and Katsuki mama – before Yuuri came at him with a spatula, yelling at him to delete the evidence. First they were running round the dining table, then there was an awkward scuffle over the table, and the next thing he knew, they were on the hard floor, Yuuri's body pressed hot and firm against his, stretching for the phone he held above his head.

All that delicious friction is a lovely surprise that sends a thrill straight down south.

"Got it!" Yuuri crows, ripping the phone away triumphantly, "One less fodder for Yuuko to… um…" Yuuri's voice trails off as it dawns on him the exact position they're in, seconds before his face blooms a fiery red.

Victor marvels at how the Japanese man still turns into an embarrassed mess over any contact between them. It's even more remarkable given that they've been cuddling under the covers for several nights now.

"I'm so sorry," Yuuri yelps, about to scramble off, when Victor grasps Yuuri's hips and yanking him back down. "V-Victor…?"

"Hmm?" says Victor, sliding a hand slowly up Yuuri's back, admiring the smooth curve beneath the ratty old T-shirt. It's not like he hasn't felt Yuuri's body before; on the contrary, with their futons pushed together now, he spends every single night feeling Yuuri's hard muscles under his hands, Yuuri's warm breath against his neck, Yuuri's knee sliding up innocently between his thighs…

Okay, if Victor were to be honest, putting the futons together may have been the most torturous decision ever made. (And if he were really honest, he's more in danger of dying from sexual deprivation than from Yuuri's youkai form.)

"The um…" Yuuri stammers, Victor's phone clattering to the floor beside them, forgotten, "The omelet rice is um…"

Victor rests his hand on the nape of Yuuri's neck and gently pulls the smaller man closer, pressing his forehead against Yuuri's. "I like my eggs well done," he murmurs.

Long eyelashes flutter against the blue spectacle frames, before the eyelids lower ever so slightly. (He's not resisting, he's not resisting!) "It's going to be well burnt."

With a low chuckle, Victor's eyes dart down to Yuuri's lips, soft and parted. Yuuri's big secret is out in the open, they're happy, and they just had a little domestic chase scene worthy of a romantic comedy film: now is definitely the perfect moment. "I'm good with well burnt," Victor purrs, leaning upwards, heart singing when Yuuri's eyes start to drift shut –

The doorbell rings, sharp and shrill.

Yuuri turns, but Victor grabs the small face in his hands, jerking the gaze back on him. "It's probably just the cable man again." Victor flashes his best smile, gratified that Yuuri returns it shyly. Victor moves to lean in again and –

"Open the door, asshole!" shrieks an all-too-familiar voice over the shorter, more staccato rings, signaling a rapid ramming into the poor, abused doorbell. "I know you're in there!"

Oh hell. There's only one person who speaks with such unpolished vulgarity.

"I don't think the cable guy speaks Russian," Yuuri says with a grin.

"Yuu~~ri," Victor whines when the warm body rises off him, loathing the cold air that sweeps in in its place. "If we ignore him long enough he'll go away."

"Clearly you know him so it'd be ruder to ignore him," Yuuri laughs softly, stopping by the stove to turn it off before heading round the corner to answer the door.

Dropping his head to the floor, Victor slaps a palm to his forehead with a loud sigh. Once the expected screaming begins - "Where the fuck is Victor! The coward sent you to open the door, didn't he?" - he rises reluctantly to his feet and drags himself to the entranceway, where a petite frame comes into view, the hood of a familiar tiger-print hoodie pulled back to reveal an expression of deep rage written across the otherwise pretty face.

"You!" shouts the tiny blond in their native language, jamming a finger at him. "Why haven't you been responding to my messages? And why the hell are you staying with this twerp? And – are you wearing pink slippers!?"

Eyes wide, Yuuri stares at them in confusion, unsure of how to react.

Evidently, Yuri Plisetsky is far more tenacious than Victor ever gave him credit for. (And he does so hate it when Christophe is right.)

"How did you find me?" Victor asks curiously.

"Your instagram posts, dumbass. You left your GPS location on."

"Damn," Victor mutters under his breath.

"Victor?" Yuuri says, head tilting, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Victor says brightly, turning to Yuuri. "Yuuri, meet Yuri."

"What," says Yuuri, looking even more confused.

"Fuck no," Yuri snaps, switching smoothly to English, "There's only one Yuri here and that's – "

"My angel over here," Victor cuts in, beaming as he wraps an arm round Yuuri and pulls the other man to his side. "Welcome to Japan, Yurio!"

"I will cut you," Yuri – henceforth, Yurio – snarls in Russian, taking a step forward.

"Yuri," someone rumbles behind Yurio then, low and deep, "Move."

A pair of red eyes glow dangerously, just as Victor spots the mouth of a gun barrel, trained on a spot between Yuuri's eyes.

"Otabek, wait – "

A loud cracking noise rings out and echoes sharply through the apartment.