LOLOL I suck at updating hahah- *dissolves into tears*

Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to macamars on tumblr, who so graciously put up with me asking to write this headcanon for her an entire month ago (shame on me smh) and then me crawling back asking what the headcanon even was because I forgot it.

Someone kill me.

Chapter Name: Engraved on Our Hearts

Normal POV

Viktor Nikiforov, as of right now, is scheming something.

About a week ago, he and Yuuri had a small disagreement over how much money Viktor just throws at businesses for the sake of making Yuuri happy. Yuuri, being the realistic person that he is, said this, "There is no way you're gonna be able to spoil me like that forever and never run out of money, Viktor, so just stop it now."

Challenge accepted.

Yakov has given them the day off, because they need the day to pack and take care of other preparations. Viktor told Yuuri, just a few hours ago, "I have some errands to run for the ISO paperwork and for Yakov, but I'll be home before dinner and then we can fly out to Hasetsu, okay?" They were planning to go a few days before the NHK Trophy to see Yuuri's family again.

Yuuri, being the saintly angel that he is, agreed without a shadow of a doubt. "Gotta make up for the missed practice time somehow, huh?" He teased.

Viktor made a show of looking absolutely exhausted, his shoulders hunching forward with some huge invisible weight and his lips twisting into a frown as he let out a sigh. "Exactly." His eyes sparkled with mirth.

Yuuri laughed at him and waved him away, lounging comfortably with the latest copy of IFS Magazine on his lap.

And then, Viktor stole his skates.

The lady behind the counter looked at him strangely for a moment. "Let me get this straight," she began, "You want me to take the perfectly good blades off these skates and reattach new ones in different colors? Are you sure, sir? Different colors!"

Viktor's smile became a little strained. "Yes. It's a gift."

She fixed him with another weird stare before taking up both pairs of skates and disappearing into the back room. She came back out to pick up the small slip of paper where Victor had written down his other instructions.

"They'll be all set in about two hours, Mr. Nikiforov. Would you like us to call you when your order is ready?" She asked.

"Sure," He said (slightly miffed), and left his phone number with the girl who obviously didn't know who he was and obviously didn't like men (or she would be swooning because he's THE Victor Nikiforov for god's sake).

He stepped out of the shop, whistling lightly as his eyes adjusted to the white sunlight of St. Petersburg behind his sunglasses. He has two hours to kill, and he can't go back home because Yuuri is there and Yuuri doesn't need to know what he's doing, otherwise he'll start waving around his degree in economics and screaming that Viktor is irresponsible again. The argument – er, disagreement, usually ends with, "I don't need you to spend money on me, Viktor, I just need you." And Viktor, being the hopeless romantic that he is, lets his heart melt at the words but still ends up doing things like this anyway:

Throwing around his money was something that he was used to doing anyway, but now it had meaning. Sure, he had donated to charities several times in the past, and he would continue to do so, but now he could make the love of his life happy with meaningful gifts like this one, and the money aspect of it just seemed like a pointless thing to worry about.

And if Yuuri were actually mad, he wouldn't smile so lovingly down at his gifts every time Viktor gave him one. He wouldn't be fighting back a smile as he yelled about the money.

It was alright.

The two hours passed by quickly as Viktor sat in a small, out-of-the-way café not too far away from the skate shop, scrolling through social media but careful not to make any posts of his own lest Yuuri find out.

He was in the middle of admiring an Instagram shot of Chris' beloved cat when the phone call from the shop interrupted his train of thought.

Viktor smirked.

Viktor was careful to place Yuuri's skate bag back in the same exact place and position he had taken it from. He knew that Yuuri wouldn't look for his skates on an off day, but just in case anxiety struck and made him check their bags for the trip tonight (for the third time), Viktor had made a show of setting all of their luggage aside in one corner of their bedroom, all packed and ready to go whenever they themselves were.

Yuuri thought the idea was a good one, and proposed doing that more often, but he had no idea that Viktor was planning to take away two of the bags in the morning and return them later that night.

He had planned his return to coincide with Yuuri's daily trip to the grocery shop, though Viktor insisted that they could just stock-pile a week's worth of food and not worry about it, but Yuuri said it was a habit from his life in Japan, and something that he had even carried over with him to Detroit.

Viktor gave in. And today, he was thankful for that.

"Ready to go?" Yuuri asked after making sure that none of their food would spoil while they were travelling.

Viktor looked up from his phone, where he was letting Yakov know of their departure. The coach would follow them in a few days. He smiled. "Yeah."

Hasetsu was as gorgeous and as quiet as he remembered it. Sometimes, Viktor dreamed about what it would have been like to grow up in a small town like this.

He took in a deep breath of the fresh air.

They had spent a few days at the Katsukis' inn, and the competition was happening later that afternoon. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon this misty morning, Viktor noted as he stood just outside the entrance of the inn, waiting for Yuuri to finish saying his goodbyes.

NHK was in Nagasaki this year, and Yuuri told him it would take them about three and half hours to get there by train from Hasetsu.

He was hoping to get to get to the morning practice early enough to take Yuuri's glasses before he could notice what he's done to their skates.

Yuuri skated past him in a blur of color, backwards so he could flash him a smile.

Viktor's heart melted as he sped up a bit to try and catch him.

Ever since they had started competing against each other, the early morning practice had changed, much to Yakov's chagrin. Sure, they practiced their respective jumps and other moves, like the higher level spins and spirals, but once they were done, they usually ended up playing what looked like tag on the ice.

Yakov would yell at them later for it, and Yuuri would apologize, and Viktor would tell his coach to, "stop being such a square" and laugh as Yakov's face scrunched up as though he were about to explode.

Today, Viktor was especially thankful for their little game because it meant that Yuuri wouldn't look at Viktor's skates or his own.

Viktor bit back a giggle.

Yuuri stared at the ice over the boards. In just a few minutes, it would be his turn to skate.

The roar of the crowd and the chatter of the announcers died away as Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri's torso from behind, leaning his chest onto Yuuri's back. The younger closed his eyes for a moment and put one of his hands over Viktor's, relaxing.

They didn't have to say anything. After all, they had their rings to remind them of that important motivation: "Show me the skating you can honestly say you liked best."

Nevertheless, Yuuri knew something was up when Viktor chuckled into his ear.

"What is it?" He asked, opening his eyes and tilting his head a bit to see Viktor's face.

"I have a surprise for you."

Yuuri turned around with his brows crinkled but a big, open-mouthed smile tugging awkwardly on the corners of his lips. "What? Viktor, what did you do this time?"

Viktor merely grinned innocently. "Look at your skates." He said, handing Yuuri his glasses so he could see.

Yuuri quirked a brow in confusion but took his glasses from Viktor and put them on before removing his skate guards.

Only to reveal brand new blades.

One glittering gold and one shimmering silver.

"Viktor!" Yuuri gasped, staring at the brand new blades.

The elder laughed as Yuuri fixed him with a wide-eyed stare. "There's more. Look closer." He urged with a grin.

Yuuri sat down on the nearest bench to take a closer look at the new blades. What he saw there brought tears to his eyes. He let out a small gasp and looked up at Viktor, his eyes saying more than he ever could.

"Viktor…"

Engraved on the golden blade was Viktor's name, and on the silver was his own.

"I have the same pair." Viktor said, smiling lovingly at his fiancé.

Yuuri choked a bit and threw his arms open, and Viktor rushed forward and buried himself into Yuuri's arms in his typical octopus style.

They cuddled for a few moments, away from the eyes of the press and the media, and Yakov, who was probably looking for them.

Yuuri dipped his head into the crook of Viktor's shoulder with a hum. "This better not be because I said you couldn't spoil me."

Viktor chuckled before pushing Yuuri up and away. "They're calling for you, Yuuri."

The younger shook his head with a fond laugh.

And as he stepped out on the ice, the anxiety he was familiar with was hushed and his chest was warm with love. There was nothing to fear. He had his ring, and now he had a physical part of Viktor with him at all times.

He was not alone.

Bruuuhhhh.

This headcanon is BEAUTIFUL.

And you have macamars to thank~~

Leave a review/comment and let me know what you think!

Macamars, I hope you liked this. *prays fervently*

With love,

~Crescent T.