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“Is it any different, competing against Victor now that you're married?”

Yuri wasn't surprised by the question—the press began asking them how they thought their 'new dynamic' might affect their skating even before their wedding. They'd held the ceremony just a few days after Worlds, at the start of the off-season, and then he and Victor were assigned to different GP qualifiers. The Final was their first time skating against each other as a married couple, and obviously the wait hadn't dulled anyone's interest in the outcome.

Someone coughed, and Yuri blinked, surprised to find the journalist who'd asked the question looking slightly flushed and not quite making eye contact. He hadn't been lost in thought that long, had he?

“Yuuuuri,” Victor chided, silver medal gleaming against his chest—he'd refused to take it off even for the press conference. He'd also refused to let Yuri put his new gold medal away. “You don't need to kiss your ring when I'm right here.”

Kiss his... “Oh,” Yuri said, blinking down at his ring. “Sorry, I didn't even realize. I guess it's just automatic when I think about you, now. I can't help it,” he said with an awkward laugh.

For a moment, Victor's face went unnervingly blank. And then he stood suddenly enough that his chair screeched against the floor, moving to wrap his arms around Yuri's shoulders from behind, bending to bury his face in Yuri's hair.

Over time, he'd realized just how alone Victor used to feel—how alone he sometimes still felt. It baffled Yuri that Victor could ever be uncertain of his place in Yuri's life, in Yuri's heart, but for all his usual confidence, Victor had his own share of insecurities and doubts. It made Yuri a little softer with him—made him willing to do insane things like climb a castle naked in front of Phichit and his phone just to reassure Victor that he really was there with him.

Yuri thought he could feel Victor arms trembling against him, very faintly, so he grabbed Victor's right hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against his husband's ring for good measure.

Victor made a soft, high-pitched noise that sounded half like he'd just seen a tub full of fluffy puppies and half like he was actually dying.

Then Victor lifted his head, angling around so that he could meet Yuri's eyes, and gasped, “Marry me.”

“We're...already married,” Yuri pointed out hesitantly. He shot an apologetic glance at Otabek, sitting on his other side; Yurio's friend looked long-suffering but not yet constipated with rage, and Yuri made a mental note to redirect the next few questions his way before that changed.

“Marry me again,” Victor demanded, unfazed.

“Like a vow renewal?” Yuri asked, brow furrowed. They hadn't even reached their first anniversary yet, but Victor looked serious.

“Sure. We can call it that.”

Yuri considered it. “We could have the ceremony in Russia this time,” he said, because he'd always felt a little bad that their Hasetsu wedding was inaccessible to some of Victor's Russian friends and relatives.

“Does that mean you will?” Victor asked, openly delighted, like they weren't already sharing an apartment and a life and an awkwardly hyphenated surname. Like there'd really been any doubt at all.

“I'd marry you all over again every single day, if you wanted,” Yuri told him seriously, the intensity of the moment dispelled only slightly by Yurio's gagging.

Victor let go of him and buried his face in his hands, making a strangled noise low in his throat. The tips of his ears were, Yuri noted absently, very red. Then, with the same decisiveness that he'd shown when he'd tackled Yuri into a kiss at the Cup of China, Victor lowered his hands, smiled smugly, and said, “One wedding for every gold medal.”

“Yours or mine?” Yuri asked, startled.

“Both.”

It was too much, of course. Victor was being completely ridiculous.

“...Okay,” Yuri agreed, flushing.

“My best friend's getting remarried!” Phichit shouted out happily, and for once it was even true. He was recording everything, of course; it'd be all over the internet before the conference was through.

Yakov glowered at them—and then, if Yuri wasn't mistaken, sneaked an unsubtle glance at Lilia. Lilia didn't exactly smile, but she looked like her face wouldn't crack in half if she tried.

“I'm gonna win every fucking gold from now on,” Yurio swore from the sidelines, already disgruntled at being knocked down to fifth place by Phichit (and, to be fair, his frankly ridiculous growth spurts weren't helping either his skating or his temper). “Beka! We're not letting either of them win ever again. This is disgusting.”

Otabek nodded seriously at Yurio, lips curling into a confident smirk, but then he turned to Victor and said, “I'll DJ for you, if you have a reception.”

“Grandpa and I will make pirozhki if we're in Russia this time, so don't get any shitty catering,” Yurio added reluctantly, ignoring Victor entirely in favor of scowling at Yuri. “And my cat's coming; I need something to distract me from how much you both suck.”

“Remember when we used to talk about skating,” Seung-gil muttered pointedly, staring at the ceiling. Probably so he didn't have to actually look at any of them, Yuri thought. He'd been annoyed enough about finishing last in his first GPF, and now they were getting completely off track.

Yuri recalled, with a sudden guilty start, that he was the one currently being interviewed, which made it his responsibility to get everyone back on track. He winced, turning back to the reporters and cameramen, and said, “Uh. I guess competing against each other as husbands means we'll be getting...more married.”

“I...well, yes, that answers my question,” the journalist said uncertainly, clearly sorry she'd asked in the first place.

“Marriage is wonderful,” Victor said cheerfully, back to cuddling Yuri in front of coaches, competition, and press alike. Yuri was already bracing himself for Mari's judgmental silences during his next phone call home. “Don't you think, Yakov?” Yuri was willing to bet he'd just waggled his eyebrows; Phichit beamed as he immediately turned to record Yakov's reaction.

Yakov, caught once again gazing at his ex-wife, sputtered and glared. Lilia's lips twitched.

Otabek pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.