#asinglewritingheart

It’s not surprising, really. Yuuri looks like the stereotype of the carrying partner, with his soft, round face and soft, round hips. Really, it was to be expected.

Even Yuuri himself seems to think that will be his role, has already started looking for pregnancy clothes and drafting a retirement announcement for when the season ends.

Viktor knows he should be happy. Ever since his own lonely childhood he dreamed of a big family, a home full of love. His and Yuuri’s children would never be left alone for weeks on end, never wake up to a house devoid of life, never fall asleep without a parent to tuck them in and kiss them goodnight. Viktor already knows that he’ll do everything in his power to be sure of that.

Really, Viktor should be thrilled that Yuuri is 100% on board with his wish, is willing and eager to carry as many children as they see fit to have (Viktor is hoping for 3 or 4). But still, a little voice inside nags at him.

The voice never comes alone. It sneaks up on Viktor while he putters around the kitchen or takes Makkachin for walks or stands in the shower trying to wake up. It whispers to him of the joy of feeling life grow inside you, feeds him images of Yuuri caressing his growing belly, speaking to their child in soft Japanese.

When Viktor dreams, he dreams of baby kicks, of standing on the sidelines of the ice rink cheering his husband on, of Yuuri dedicating his medal to Viktor and their child within him.

Sometimes Viktor tries to argue himself into telling Yuuri. Realistically, it makes more sense for Viktor to carry. He had retired a year ago at age 30, while Yuuri still likely had a few more years of skating in him. There was no reason to prematurely end Yuuri’s career. Not when Viktor was already done.

And yet, something stops Viktor. Yuuri seems so excited to carry their child. Almost everyday he shows Viktor something new he had found for the pregnancy, a cute sweater that would help cradle the bulge when it got big enough, a pair of special socks to help with swollen ankles, even a cooling neck wrap that bore a startling resemblance to Makkachin.

Honestly, Yuuri didn’t even seem that upset about giving up skating. Viktor had tried to ask a few times if Yuuri was sure, but his husband had laughed it off. After all, at 28 he wasn’t far off from when Viktor had retired, and he had certainly skated longer than most. What difference did another year or two make? Yuuri was ready to start a family.

And really, Viktor supposed it didn’t matter who carried. They would both love the baby equally, both be equally involved in raising and caring for them once they were born. But still, he couldn’t let the images and whispers go.

The dreams only got more vivid as the end of the season drew nearer. All night, images danced through Viktor’s mind. Yuuri rubbing Viktor’s feet when they became sore, making him borscht when the cravings got bad, both of them running hands over Viktor’s stomach, feeling their baby move.

Their friends sometimes featured in his fantasies too. Mila and Georgi would be thrilled, perhaps even inspired to try for their own babies with their own significant others. Yurio would pretend to scoff and gag, but Viktor knew he would secretly be thrilled when Yuuri and Viktor asked him and Otabek to be the baby’s godparents. Phichit would probably take selfies with the growing bump, putting ridiculous stickers and filters on Viktor’s stomach. Chris would tease about how the baby got there to begin with, but would also just happen to know where to get the cutest designer baby clothes or the expensive sweets Viktor might crave. Even Yakov might crack a smile, even if he would pretend it was for no other reason than the idea of marrying Viktor’s technical skill and Yuuri’s precision footwork into one child.

And Yuuri’s family. Viktor had never known his own parents well, but being a part of the Katsuki household had more than made up for it. Mama would fuss, he was sure, would whip up katsudon or whatever other Japanese delicacies a pregnant man might crave. Papa would laugh and tell Viktor jokes if his hormones got the better of him and left him weepy. Even Mari, for all her seeming disinterest, would bring Viktor little gifts from town and take extra care not to smoke around him and the baby.

Viktor even dreamt of making love while pregnant, how gentle and careful Yuuri would be as entered Viktor and thrust them both to completion. Even the idea of Yuuri’s face being hidden by Viktor’s swollen belly when he sucked his cock seemed erotic beyond measure. And Viktor’s chest. He could just imagine it now, how it would grow swollen and sensitive as his body prepared to feed their child. Perhaps Yuuri would pay extra attention to it, would play with Viktor’s nipples until he came from that alone. As the date grew close, maybe Yuuri would even want to suckle a bit. To taste the milk Viktor would feed their child.

Honestly, it was driving Viktor to distraction. He counted himself lucky that Yuuri’s sex drive tended to drop drastically whenever a competition loomed. Otherwise, who knows what he might let slip while in the throes of passion.

However, while Viktor might have been distracted, Yuuri was not. Although he wasn’t often grateful for the way his anxiety left him hyperaware of others’ emotions, Yuuri had to give it credit this time. Without it, he might never have noticed something was wrong with Viktor, too caught up in preparing for his final competition to worry about anything else.

It dawned on him slowly, that something was off. Although Viktor said all the right things, smiled and cooed over the clothes Yuuri showed him, spoke longingly of their baby-to-be, Yuuri couldn’t help but notice a sadness about him, hidden in the depths of his ever-expressive eyes.

Clearly something wasn’t right. But what was it? Viktor was obviously over the moon to be starting their family, had talked of almost nothing but since he retired. So, it couldn’t be that he no longer wanted a baby, right?

Was it because Yuuri would have to retire? Maybe that was it. Yuuri knew that Viktor loved watching him skate, loved even more the past year, when retirement had finally allowed him to focus fully on coaching Yuuri. Could it just be the normal sort of sadness that came with change?

Yuuri thought of a few things that it could be, but something in his gut told him that they weren’t quite it. Still, the competition made it difficult for him to pursue an inquires into the matter. There was simply no time.

Before either man knew it, the competition was over. Yuuri proudly stood in the middle of the podium, his final gold medal held high for all to see. Viktor, of course, was thrilled. It was only right that Yuuri’s career should end on a win. One last blaze of glory for all to see.

The plan was to announce Yuuri’s retirement at the banquet, after the exhibition. It seemed best to give his anxiety time to settle before making such a big announcement. Not to mention it would be terribly unprofessional to drop a bomb like that on their friends right before everyone was expected to skate their exhibition pieces. No, it was better to wait.

Waiting therefore, was what Viktor was doing. Waiting on the window seat of their hotel room while Yuuri showered the stress of the competition away, Viktor lost himself in thought again.

It was easy, so easy to do it. The fluffy hotel robe he was wearing easily transformed into one of the sweaters Yuuri had shown him, a soft blue one with a paw print on the stomach where friends and family could palce their hands to feel the baby kick and move. A quick addition of one of the pillows from their bed, and Viktor could almost pretend he was months along.

Smiling slightly, Viktor began to stroke the pillow, talking to it as one would a baby. In fact, he was so caught up in the fantasy, he didn’t even notice when the water went off and Yuuri emerged from the shower.

Although he had been about to call out, to ask if Viktor was hungry, when Yuuri stepped through the door, he was suddenly glad he hadn’t. The sight that greeted him was absolutely breathtaking.

Viktor was curled up in front of the window, the lights shining in haloing him, making him seem ethereal. His husband’s beauty distracted Yuuri so much that he almost missed Viktor’s stomach. However, when he saw it, he had to blink a few times to be sure what he was seeing was correct.

Yet, no matter how much he stared, nothing changed. His Viktor, his wonderful, beautiful, absolutely ridiculous husband, had stuck one of the hotel pillows under his robe and was busily absorbed in cooing at it.

Yuuri stood stock still, afraid to even breathe to loudly, as several things finally clicked into place.

So this was why Viktor had looked sad whenever they discussed the baby. Honestly, Yuuri could kick himself. Everyone around them had assumed Yuuri would be the carrying partner, and he had gone along with it, had assumed Viktor would want that too.

Never once had he and Viktor actually discussed it.

Crossing the room, Yuuri leaned over and wrapped his arms around Viktor, hands going to the bulge of the pillow over his stomach, whispering “And how’s our little one today?” in his ear.

Viktor yelped and jumped, almost smacking his shoulder into Yuuri’s chin. He had gotten so wrapped up in his fantasy, he hadn’t even noticed his husband until he spoke.

The shock of Yuuri catching him at his pretending quickly burned through him. Viktor cursed himself mentally. He should’ve waited, or he should’ve put it out of his mind altogether so he could focus on supporting Yuuri when he made his announcement tomorrow.

Keeping his hands on Viktor’s pillow-stomach, Yuuri eased around and sat in front of him on the seat, eyes locked on Viktor’s face.

Eventually, Viktor looked up and their gazes met, before shame made him drop his focus back to the floor.

Just as Viktor was getting ready to blurt out an excuse, to claim that he was just practicing for how he would caress Yuuri’s stomach and what he would say when Yuuri was pregnant, Yuuri spoke.

“We never did talk about who would carry, did we?” he asked gently, glancing down at their hands.

Viktor shook his head. Why would they have? Everyone expected Yuuri to carry. Even Yuuri expected Yuuri to carry. What else was there to say?

Finally, Yuuri slid one hand up Viktor’s chest, catching his husband’s chin and tilting his face up so their eyes met. Gently, he asked, “Maybe we could talk now?”

Viktor could only nod dumbly, trying to read Yuuri’s thoughts as his husband cupped his cheek and slowly leaned in. A gentle kiss was pressed to Viktor’s lips, and when they broke apart, Yuuri smiled, thumb smoothing over Viktor’s cheekbone.