Chapter 5: The Oddities of Being Married to Nikiforov

Victor couldn't. He wanted to so bad, but he couldn't.

His eyes still trailed back to it.

This was ridiculous.

But he needed it...

Just how little self control do I have? Victor cursed himself.

Still, he burned, temptation drowning reason.

He reached slowly...

"Victor? What are you doing?"

Victor yelped, holding his pillow up as a shield. "Yuuri! It's not-"

"Were you just sniffing my shirt?! What the hell?!"

"I couldn't help it!"

"Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Katsuki!" reporters swarmed them, blaring questions. Yuuri swallowed his swirling disgust. This happened sometimes... still, he hated this, people asking all these personal questions, women bawling for Victor to come back. It was gross, it made him anxious and sick. His head fuzzed as people barked obscenities and various slurs, or vicious fans screamed horrifying sexual threats. It was awful, being in the center of it, and Yuuri wanted to be swallowed up into nothing and just disappear. His lungs pulsed angrily and the crowd became walls that closed in. He glanced up for a moment only to see Victor wink at someone. He felt like throwing up. It was an act, obviously, but it hurt.

But as he winked, Victor's fingers quietly brushed against Yuuri's, interlocking under the cover of bright camera lights. Victor smiled, not looking at Yuuri, but he softly squeezed Yuuri's hand.

"~Haha, well, I will most likely be continuing my magazine sponsorship with them, and despite no longer competitively skating, I will certainly be making appearances as a cover boy for many of my faithful business partners. Obviously, due to recent events, I am going to be very busy with more important matters."

Victor's eyes flitted to Yuuri quickly, softly smiling. Yuuri could drink that half a second, where Victor stopped being a goofball or a pervert or the celebrity and told him everything's okay.

Yuuri smiled at a young reporter. "I would be happy to answer a question or two, yes~"

He squeezed Victor's hand back.

When Victor Nikiforov barged into their bedroom cooing his name, Yuuri knew it was going to be something over the top. This time, it was a small shopping bag. Normally, Yuuri would be relieved by this contrast to Victor's normal extravagant shopping habits, but this only made him more wary.

"GameStop" the bag's bright red letters said.

Oh no. Yuuri thought.

"Yuuri~! Look at what I bought! I was hoping you would want to play it with me~! I saw Yurio playing it and it was just so cute, I couldn't help myself! It's a Japanese game, and I think it has a lot of cultural references."

It was a 3ds and a game. But it got worse. It was a pink 3ds and Project Mirai DX.

Victor smiled, babbling about some other games he got, but he wanted to get that one specifically, and you like the Zelda games too, right Yuuri, because I bought some of those, and things like that.

Yuuri stared into the face of Hatsune Miku. Cultural?

"Victor..."

Victor beamed, eager to get Yuuri's opinion.

"This is kind of just a little racist..." Yuuri's smile was more of a cringe. Victor's smile dropped and he started apologizing furiously.

Yuuri laughed painfully. "You didn't mean it... it's just... haha..."

Please don't let him go through a weeaboo phase, god, please no.

Yuuri breathed hotly. They were finally alone, and Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri's neck.

"Hey! Where's the fucking pizza in this hellhole?"

They froze as Yurio kicked their ajar door wide open. Paralyzed, Yuuri's horrified face turned into a panicked smile, waving mechanically.

"LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR, NO ONE WANTS TO SEE A WRINKLY OLD MAN FUCK A PIG! GOD!" Yurio barked, slamming the door behind him.

Yuuri laughed lightly. "Well then."