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“Well? What do you think?”Yuuri looks up from his new T-shirt into Victor’s eager expression.“I… don’t get it,” he admits, and Victor’s face falls.“Dragons!” Victor repeats, as though that’ll help, and gently takes the shirt from Yuuri to show him. “Asexual people love dragons!”“That’s… an oddly specific stereotype.” Yuuri takes another look at the shirt, admiring it. The shirt Victor bought him is a highly artistic rendering of a white dragon with lilac wings in front of a heart striped in black, gray, and purple, with the whole work of art captioned “Dragons, though”.It’s a good-looking shirt, and he appreciates Victor going through all the trouble. But…“Victor, I’m…” He gingerly takes the shirt from Victor. “You… want me to wear this?”Victor tilts his head as he studies Yuuri. “Well… only if you want to. Pride is next month, and I noticed you didn’t have anything for ace pride. But it’s okay if you don’t like this one, there’s time to get you another and I have a whole folder of bookmarks on Society6.”He bounces from the room to get his laptop, and Yuuri takes another look at the shirt. He wishes the idea of wearing this where people could see it didn’t make his insides clench.--The thing is, Yuuri is proud to be with Victor, to stand by his side in front of the whole world. He’s gotten used to hearing people make off-color comments about them behind their back – certainly nothing hateful, but nothing he’d want repeated around his mother, either.Still, the idea of letting the world know he isn’t sexually attracted to Victor at all? It… opens things up too far, somehow makes him uncomfortable, to be so open about something so incredibly private. Even if their bedroom life is strictly limited to sleeping. None of this should be anyone’s business but his and Victor’s.But he doesn’t know how to say that. A year of living with Victor, four months of living with him in Russia, and Yuuri still finds himself choking on words he can’t say sometimes, his anxiety coming up to grab him by the throat just when his words matter most.And so Victor keeps buying shirts. Some more playful ones saying things like “Space Ace” on a starry background, or an ace pride rainbow ending at a slice of cake. More artistic ones, like a stylized ace pride heart that looks like graffiti. Minimalist ones, like the black tank he gets Yuuri that simply has the word “nah” printed in purple on the chest.“If anyone makes an ace katsudon shirt,” Victor muses late one night while scrolling through Redbubble for any latest artwork, “we’re buying ten. I mean it, Yuuri.”He runs an affectionate hand over Yuuri’s shin, where he’s curled up at the other end of the couch, working on his Russian homework. And Yuuri has no doubt that he does mean it. Still…“Vitya…”Victor looks up, and Yuuri just about loses his breath looking into those bright blue eyes, the way they focus so wholly on him. There are times he almost takes this for granted, having Victor be an integral part of his life. Having anyone be so close to him was unthinkable to Yuuri a year ago; now it’s just as unthinkable to ever have Victor part from him.“Yuuri,” Victor says fondly, giving his ankle a gentle squeeze. “Did you forget what you were going to say?”“N-no,” he says, and rocks forward so he’s kneeling on the couch in front of Victor. “Um. Just… I’m not sure I need all this?”Victor blinks.“What do you mean?”“Um…” Now that Yuuri’s started, he finds he doesn’t know how to go on. “I just, um. It’s stupid. Never mind.”“Yuuri…” Oh, god. Victor is using his coach’s voice. “We’ve talked about this. Nothing you could ever have to say to me is stupid.” Yuuri bites his lip; Victor sees. “Come here, love.”They rearrange themselves so they’re side by side on the sofa, Yuuri’s head resting on Victor’s shoulder, Victor’s hand carding gently through Yuuri’s hair while Yuuri drums a restless tattoo against Victor’s stomach. Yuuri lets in a deep breath, hissing it out. Being held by Victor is nice; not having to look at him while he talks is, too.“Better?”Yuuri nods against him, and the words pour out.“Sometimes I worry I’m not enough for you.”Victor’s hands still for a moment before he resumes stroking Yuuri’s hair, slowly, rhythmically.“Is this because I’ve bought you a half-dozen T-shirts? The ones you already have are fine, I promise, I just… got a little carried away.”“No, that’s not…” Yuuri gulps. “I mean because we’re not… s-sleeping together.”“We are, last I checked.” Yuuri curses Victor’s literal-mindedness sometimes.“I mean sex, Vitya.” Yuuri’s fingers tighten on Victor’s shirt almost mindlessly. “There’s so much gossip about us, between you leaving your career for me and… and the Eros thing…” Victor makes a little hum in the back of his throat, and Yuuri slumps against him. “I don’t care about the gossip, I swear I don’t. I love having everyone know you’re mine.”“Oh, Yuuri.” Victor all but shivers against him, and he feels his fiancé kiss his forehead, lingering. “Always.”“But then I think you could have anybody.” Yuuri is all but whispering these words into Victor’s chest. “Be with anybody. There are so many people that want you, in all the ways you deserve to be wanted. And I’m…”He cuts himself off when he feels his words start to become a whine, tears springing to his eyes as he hides more deeply in Victor’s shirt. Yuuri has always been deficient in all the ways that matter—in skating, in sex, in love. Love and affection flow freely from Victor like an endless sea, the unending tide rising up to engulf Yuuri. Doesn’t he deserve someone who can return every bit of it to him? Doesn’t Victor deserve someone who can love him in every way possible?Victor just holds him close for a long moment, still and silent. For a heartstopping moment Yuuri thinks he might have broken him. Then he hears him sigh, a quick, shattered little sound.“I don’t want to be with ‘anybody’.” He pulls back so they can see each other, and Yuuri wishes he’d never seen Victor look that sad. “I want to be with you. When you gave me this ring, I thought that meant you want to be with me, too.”“I do,” Yuuri starts, hesitantly, “but—““Yuuri, I’ve had sex,” Victor says bluntly, and Yuuri’s mouth snaps shut. “Not a lot of it, not as much as I let the media think, but, I have. And I have never, not for a moment, had from anyone even a fraction of what I get from you.”His hand is exceedingly gentle on Yuuri’s cheek, and more tears spill out against Yuuri’s better judgment.“I don’t want them thinking I’m—embarrassed by you,” he chokes, scrubbing his face with his sleeve even as Victor wipes his tears away with hushed sounds. “That I’m somehow too pure for you, or…”“Why would they think that?” Victor asks, but Yuuri can’t stop.“I don’t want them saying that… that we’re fake, that we’re not really in love, because I won’t have sex with you.”The words hang, heavy, between them.“Fuck anyone who thinks that.” The conviction burning in Victor’s eyes makes Yuuri fall in love all over again. “I mean it. I’ll fight them.”The way he says it makes Yuuri giggle a little, in spite of himself. Victor takes Yuuri’s face in his hands, and he finds his center again.“I love you,” he says in halting Russian, and he sees Victor’s expression melt, his dimples curving his smile into something sweeter than honey.“Ai shiteru yo,” Victor says back to him, and Yuuri feels his heart pound in his chest at the fierce expression of love and devotion. He presses his lips to Victor’s, wanting to feel the curve of his smile against his own, wanting to get wrapped up in him.Several minutes get lost that way, touching and reconnecting in a way he only can with Victor. When they surface for air, Victor rests his cheek on Yuuri’s chest, right above his heart, and Yuuri holds him close. Wishing he were brave enough to show the world how much Victor loves him, wishing he were brave enough to challenge their idea of what their love should look like.Anyone who says this isn’t real is a liar.--“Oi.”Yuuri pauses in his compulsory figures, looking over at Yuri Plisetsky a short distance from him on the ice.“Sorry,” he says reflexively. “Am I in your way?”Yuri shakes his head tensely, then points rudely to the middle of Yuuri’s chest.“What’s that mean?”He follows Yurio’s finger, and is almost surprised to see he’s wearing one of the shirts Victor got him. He’d kept them without the intent to wear them in public, not quite ready to start that conversation with the media, but they make good pajamas.Or, in today’s case, laundry day shirts.He’d thrown it on before practice under one of his ubiquitous Mizuno fleeces, not thinking anyone would see it, but he’s been working out hard today, stripping off his outer layer without thinking about it.“’I’ve got an ace up my sleeve,’” he reads, thinking Yurio might be having trouble reading the Romanized lettering. In parentheses beneath that, the text goes on, “It’s me; I’m ace and I’m in these sleeves.” Of all the shirts Victor got him, it’s one of Yuuri’s favorites because it’s so tongue-in-cheek. Not to mention soft.“I know what it says,” Yuri snaps. “What does it mean? Is it because they call you the Ace of Japan?”“Oh, um.” Yuuri rubs the back of his neck, feeling the droplets of sweat that have clung to the fine hairs at his nape. “No, I’m… asexual?” At the blank look on Yurio’s face, he presses on, “It can mean different things for different people, but in my case it means I’m not attracted to people sexually.”He feels himself sweating harder, and he doubts it’s from the physical exertion.Yuri seems to quietly consider this.“That’s a thing?” he finally says. Yuuri’s never seen him look so intense. And this is Yurio.“Yes,” says a cheerful voice behind them, and soon Yuuri feels familiar arms wrap around his middle. “My Yuuri and I are very in love, but, unlike what the tabloids might claim, he’s quite the opposite of thirsty for my dick.”Yuuri feels his nose wrinkle even as he touches the back of Victor’s hand for support; there has to be a less crass way to say that to a sixteen-year-old. But before he can say so, Yurio lets out a frustrated yell.“Why do you always have to be so dirty, old man?” he howls, skating away as fast as his blades will take him. “You shouldn’t be allowed to assault my imagination like that!”Victor laughs, watching Yuri skate away; but as Yuuri falls back into doing his figures, his eyes drift toward Yurio, the way his eyes are alight even as his expression stays focused on his warmup. The lighter way he seems to be carrying himself.It reminds Yuuri, weirdly enough, of how he’d felt when he’d first heard the word “asexual”.He smiles to himself as he finally leaves the rink, dusting the snow from his blades. Maybe there’s something to be said for opening up about this, after all.