The wind picks up just a little, and it sets the still garden into motion. Ā The dip and sway of the lilac blossoms is mesmerizing. Ā Itās as if he and Victor are the center of their own little world of pretty color and soothing perfume.
āThis is nice,ā Yuuri says, trying to voice the contentment in his chest.
āIt is. Ā Itās putting choreography in my head,ā Victor says, moving his hand through the air for a moment to mimic the soft breeze moving through the garden, āA little exhibition piece for you, maybe. Ā Simple. No big jumps, no quads. Ā Just you and the flowers.ā
āNo quads?ā Yuuri repeats, skeptical. Ā Victor flicks his hip where Yuuriās shirt has ridden up a bit. Ā
āDonāt tease,ā he murmurs, breath warm against Yuuriās temple, āLet me write you something soft. Ā Our routines are always so Ā dramatic . Ā It makes my knees hurt just thinking about it."
Yuuri laughs softly. Ā āOkay,ā he agrees, āChoreograph me a garden, then. Just like this.ā
Victor sighs happily. Ā āItāll be lovely. Just like my husband.ā
Yuuri hides his blush against Victorās jacket, a current of warmth flowing between them. Ā Ā
Vkusno! by mtothedestiel. 21266 words (complete), rated E.
Where do I even start? The food metaphors for love that made me squeal like a dying whale? The way I was absolutely slain by the shade thrown at poorly done fusion food? The beautiful descriptions of food? The little details that speak to years of Victor and Yuuri skating and living together? This is the post series top chef fic I never knew I wanted or needed - and it is absolutely delectable from start to finish.
