It was a disastrous mixture of bad timing and Victor’s playful mood that kicked everything off.
They were both exhausted after the stress of competition, still high on the honeymoon phase of actually being The Katsuki-Nikiforovs now, and very, very tired of the question, “What are your plans for the future?”
Deprived of his favorite pre-wedding responses, Victor winked at the reporter who answered, leaned sideways to steal Yuuri’s microphone, and answered, “Well, we have to get my Makkachin a baby brother or sister, of course!”
A chuckle went up among the journalists, and then Yuuri pressed his shoulder into Victor’s as he rambled off a stock response about his goals for the upcoming season.
By the time the comment caught up to him, Yuuri had forgotten all about it. He was back in St. Petersburg, leaving the rink after a long day of practice, and all he was thinking about as he stepped out into the cold was how good it would feel to get home to his warm apartment, his loving husband, and his dinner.
The girl looked like any other fan loitering outside the rink, if more committed than most, given the weather. Yuuri only noted the rainbow scarf swaddling her face before their eyes met and she rushed toward him.
“Here,” she said in accented English as she thrust a bit of fluff into his arms. “I want you to have it.”
It wasn’t until she added, “Mama says I can’t keep him,” that Yuuri realized what was happening, and the wriggling creature’s warmth began to seep through his thick mittens.
Yuuri scrambled to find the words in his limited Russian to refuse - politely - but the flustered girl was already leaving, jogging off across the snow. Yuuri was left alone on the sidewalk, save for a tiny black poodle sinking needle teeth into the tip of his glove.
Icy wind sliced at the back of Yuuri’s head. It was too cold to linger. He unzipped his coat and stuffed the puppy inside for warmth, then set off for home.
“You’ll never believe what happened,” Yuuri called as the door clicked closed behind him. Victor and Makka were nowhere to be seen, but Makkachin’s leash was still hanging by the door.
“Really?” Victor’s voice was sly. “Because I have a surprise for you as well.”
There was a clatter - claws on hardwoods, and many of them - and then a pair of little dogs came dashing around the corner, both of them more fur than beast.
When Victor came out of the bedroom, he found Yuuri still in the entryway, a third puppy clutched between his palms as the two little shih tzus bounced around him.
“Where did they come from?” Yuuri asked as one of the pups began tugging his pants leg.
“A fan,” Victor said. “Where did that one come from?”
“Also a fan.”
They stared at one another across the room as Makka forgot her years and joined the puppies in the fray. The two human’s eyes widened as their adorable predicament sank in.
In the next few days, puppies poured into their home. They were left at the rink or with the apartment’s doorman. An anonymous basket with a whole litter turned up on the doorstep on Friday. There were purebreds and mixed breeds, large and small, in enough colors and coats to make Cruella DeVille green with envy.
On Sunday, Yuuri watched a dozen puppies rip an onigiri plush to shreds between them, and his constant buzz of worry swirled and gathered into a storm.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Victor confessed as the exhausted Makka lay her head on his knee. “But this may be too many dogs.”
Yuuri sighed, relieved he didn’t have to say it first. “We can’t just leave them,” he said, hiding his face in Victor’s chest. “What can we do?”
The Instagram post went up the next morning.
It took an hour to get every puppy on the couch, sprawled half on top of one another. Below, the caption read, “Oodles of Poodles (and others) free to good homes! Thank you for the lovely gifts but Makka is tired.” This was followed by instructions on where to email an adoption application.
The flood of puppies immediately reversed course. For the next two days, their doorbell rang off and on all day as happy families and eager students rushed to take in the Katsuki-Nikiforov pups. The puppy count dwindled from a dozen to half and then just a few.
At the end of the second day, they opened the door to find Yakov in the hall, hat in hand. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?” he said. “Having a whole apartment for only me?”
Victor couldn’t stop smiling when Yakov walked back out, a tiny chihuahua shivering between his cupped palms.
“We did it,” he gasped, falling back on the sofa. “That’s it. That’s all of them.”
Yuuri stood behind him, stunned. The apartment was so quiet. No claws tapping the floor. No soft yips and whines. No cute little puppy growls.
Yuuri’s voice shook as he repeated, “All of them? Was that - all of them?”
Victor sat up as it sank in. They hadn’t meant to give away all the puppies. They wanted to keep one, maybe two, but-
Yuuri swallowed back tears as the puppyless silence grew.
“I’m going to go to the rink,” he muttered, familiar code for ‘I need to think’.
By the door, he scooped up his equipment bag and stopped at a soft, strange sound. Peering inside, he saw a pink tongue unfurl in a wide yawn as the little black poodle curled in his Team Japan jacket blinked up at him and wagged its stubby tail.
Yuuri gasped with delight and scooped the puppy up, laughing as it licked away his tears. Hello! The puppy seemed to say. I wanted to stay!
The next morning, they all posed for their first family photo: Victor and Yuuri and Makkachin Katsuki-Nikiforov, plus Mochi.
After that scene in ep 5 where Yuuri brained himself on the wall after making his last jump a quad. Yes Viktor’s proud of him, but that doesn’t mean he won’t give yuuri a stern talking to.
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