Yuri!!! On Ice Oneshots (Mostly Victuuri and Otayuri)

The Day Viktor is Pretty Sure He Drowned on the Inside: Part 1

"A pool day?"

"Yeah, Phichit invited us." Yuuri grunted in frustration, pounding away at the dough on the counter in front of him. With every punch, a string of batter would pull away from the ball, prompting yet another annoyed growl. This dough just did not want to come together. Chewing his lip, he turned back to glare at the recipe for the millionth time. This was starting to get ridiculous. He'd made this bread thousands of times before. It shouldn't be this hard goddammit. By this time on a normal day, he'd have a nice Korean cream cheese garlic bread in front of him, steam rising steadily and ready to eat, all the while having to swat a certain Russian's hand away from grabbing a piece as it cooled.

Instead he just had a hand cramp, a ball of stubborn batter dough, and a stupid and random idea eating away at his remaining brain cells. Looking up from the disaster that was the kitchen island, he watched as his fiancé lowered his book, placing a marker in between the page, and twisted to face him, arm resting on top of the couch. Yuuri made the mistake of letting his eyes fall to his neck, and the way it twisted with the sil-sorry, platinum haired head, and he swore he would melt right then and there. Over a year living with this man, and he still swooned whenever they met gazes. Viktor raised an eyebrow and smiled, and Yuuri was gone.

"I mean, it's not a bad idea. Kinda sounds relaxing."

"Then what's with the face?" Viktor shrugged, turning back to his book and burying his nose back into the story.

"What face?" He muttered, half-listening already. 

"Your face!" The second the words left his mouth, he realized his grave grave mistake. Eyes widening, he held his breath, waiting for the inevitable. In the silence of the penthouse, a deep guttural gasp came from the couch, and he watched as Viktor slammed the book down on his lap and slowly turned his head  to stare at Yuuri, mouth wide open and face drawn into a shocked look with a level of drama that only Viktor could achieve with just a look. Even Makkachin, who was sleeping soundly at his feet, let out a groan-like grunt, and turned in his slumber as if this were something that happened every other day.

Which, ok, maybe that was exactly what happened.

"Yuuri..." He called in a breathy gasp. "How. DARE. You. This face is perfect."  His hand rose to cup his own face as he threw it back as if feigning a faint. At that moment, Yuuri was very  tempted to throw a handful of dough at him. The amount of restraint he had to muster up to keep him from doing so was inhumane. Rolling his eyes, he returned his attention to the mess in front of him. Pursing his lips, he began to attempt to knead the dough in front of him. As he'd learned, in these types of situation ignorance was, indeed, bliss. As he worked, he made sure to keep his ear open for any type of sound Viktor might make. That focus, however, was quickly lost when he noticed the dough finally start to come together. It was then that all his attention was drawn to kneading.

He was just about to declare the dough done and throw it into the bread pan when a certain sound interrupted his thoughts. Yuuri yelped in surprise as air was abruptly blown into his left ear, rattling his brain like a maraca and jumping his thoughts like leaves. Along with it came a warmth behind him, that was nearly overwhelming and somebody call the police because tonight Yuuri was going to murder somebody.

"Was that really necessary?" He uttered, his heart still pounding like it was about to fly out of his chest. Any sourness in his voice was melted away when he felt two arms wrap around his waist and a head rest on his shoulder. The weight was oddly calming to him, but also drove him insane with lust. He let his head lull to the side, resting it up against Viktor's. What it was about the way his arms were snaked around his waist that made his gut tighten, he didn't know. Or maybe it was the way their bodies were pressed together for maximum contact, Viktor becoming a personal heater that clung himself to him like an octopus, that made Yuuri want to mewl like a lovesick kitten. Whatever it was, it was enough to almost make him forget about the dough in front of him.