Bluebeard's wife

Beauty and the Beast

Yuuri hits the bottle deep into the evening, while the sun draws its last rays into the sky from the window of the dining room.

Yakov Feltsman and Lilia Baranovskaya had at the very least the decency to leave an abounding wine cellar behind them prior to their departure for Moscow. A discovery he – or rather Victor – makes, when the older man ventures in the hidden depths of the house where Yuuri never dared to go during his stay. He very much doubts that with Victor back he will go past his hesitation to explore the rest of the house.

Knowing what is happening before the walls rather than behind them is enough. Rats could keep the darkest corners to themselves.

Victor resurfaces with a bottle of wine firmly clenched in his palm, a sharp contrast with the bright smile illuminating his face. He swears his features are almost similar to that of a heart, mouth wide and revealing a set of pearly white teeth. Pointy enough to be sunk into flesh and rock alike.

"What is the bottle for?" Yuuri dares to ask, wary of what is to come as Victor moves to the glass cupboard, extracting two wine glasses from a front row. They key and wood panes give easily under his nimble fingers, like he had set them there before on countless occasions. At the very least his movements exude a familiarity and knowledge that Yuuri finds himself questioning.

Victor laughs, a smooth bark that startles Yuuri from where he stands, almost breaking the serene facade he'd carved for himself and struggled to maintain since the beginning of the day. This is the first time he hears Victor laughing, an honest sound differing from his soft, childish giggles and the puffs that die into Yuuri's skin when he presses against his back, relishing this semblance of domesticity they now share.

"For celebrating of course!"

Victor nudges him slightly with an elbow as he passes him, depositing twin glasses on the table alongside the unopened bottle. A shadow must pass on Yuuri's face, for he turns to him whilst fishing for the corkscrew. The sommelier knife glints between Victor's fingers, a thin silver line that cuts through the foil in a fleeting slash. The corkscrew digs into the cork, pushing into the bark mercilessly and pulling with a wet "pop".

"Come on, don't be a spoilsport will you? Drink with me." There's no mistaking the barely-veiled amusement in his voice at the prospect of getting one of them drunk, or the both of them, just as there's an underlying threat in his words. Yuuri's ears replay the phrase like a tape, filtering the laughter and catching the curt tones suppressed by the honey of Victor's voice.

Wine swells inside the glass, waves bursting from the deep and crashing into the crystal. Foam settles at the surface, a puddle of red sea within a clear goblet. The second glass fills itself to the brim too, in a display of carelessness that astonishes Yuuri. If Lilia were there she would do more than just tut at their wine etiquette.

The bottles of beer Chris had left him are still cool in the fridge, he thinks once the bottle is set back on the low table. But surely Victor would be damned if he ever let him drink any of it for their special day. Nothing, not even wine, is too good for Yuuri.

The first glass makes its way into his hand, fingers curling around the stem, thumb and index supporting the bowl. His other hand brushes the rim, as if he were scared it would escape his grasp any moment. Victor's fingers mimic his own, without the extra hand.

"To our first day together," Victor clinks his glass against his own, the movement forces Yuuri to retract his fingers and let them fall limply at his side. Victor's free hand instantly reaches for his no sooner do the glasses chime.

Yuuri bites down the retort on his lips. This isn't technically their first day together, but he indulges him nevertheless, echoing Victor's words. "To our first day together." He forces a small smile for good measure, which seems to please Victor deeply if his answering smile is a hint.