Chapter Text
Yu-topia Katsuki was a hot springs resort in Hasetsu that had been run by his family for generations, and while Yuuri had never discounted the luxury of being able to call it his home after long, brutal days training on the ice, it was perhaps only now that he was realizing the beneficial impact it probably had on him growing up.
Yuuri thought back to Detroit. He’d started with Celestino when he was a relatively fresh, fit eighteen year old, but even then he could distinctly remember missing the emphasis on holistic wellness that typified the atmosphere of Yu-topia. In the states, his coach nor his peers held much respect for anything other than over-the-counter medication, hot and cold packs, and sleep. While those things obviously worked, it was still a lacking appraisal by Yuuri’s estimations.
Judging by Victor’s paltry stock of supplies in the apartment and his use of vodka to kill the pain, Russia was perhaps rather similar…
Yuuri stopped momentarily, memory flashes coming back to him about his and Victor’s time at Yu-topia… and how much Victor seemed to adore every single moment of it. From the onsen soaks to the waterfalls; falling asleep in Yu-topia’s soft, complimentary robes, and always drinking the tea and eating his fill of their healthy, freshly-caught seafood. He fondly remembered Victor during one of their first nights sharing a bed together under the pretense of coach-student trust-building. Slurry on the brink of sleep, Victor had spooned up against his back and marveled over how Yuuri could bring himself to get up and go damage himself on the ice when he could just stay and experience his home. Yuuri hadn’t thought much of it at the time - he’d just hummed in agreement, bowing his shoulders in to make himself smaller and pressing his back against Victor’s chest to let him know he was a fan of their position.
But Victor’s word choice came back to him now like a freight train. Damage.
Yuuri had grown up in a family-run resort where the healing properties of onsens & the nature of mineral composition in their waters were a matter of common knowledge. Herbal teas, ointments, and aromatherapy were considered an art, and massage was both a skill and a talent that Yuuri’s mother had begun teaching him when he was around ten years old. His hands were not nearly as strong as hers after so many years, but Yuuri twitched a smile: he was pretty sure Victor wouldn’t mind.
It took Yuuri a couple hours to get everything he could possibly think of, with every minute mounting his guilt for having left Victor the way he did. Still, he was determined and ended up visiting a pharmacy, a grocery, a department store, a sporting goods store, and he even lucked into a small apothecary he’d spotted on the way home in the cab.
Tottering his way down the hallway to the apartment with several bags in tow, Yuuri mulled over whether the sheer amount of purchases he’d made tonight would be Victor’s undoing. He didn’t want to undermine Victor’s pride or confidence with these items; he just wanted to bring a little Yu-topia Katsuki into their lives… and, well, he may have gotten a bit carried away with the idea…
Yuuri unlocked the door as softly as possible and tip-toed into the living room. The bags cracked and crinkled as he set them down on the sofa. Yuuri waited with baited breath for any indication that Victor - or worse yet, Makkachin - had heard him through the closed door of their bedroom.
Silence remained, and Yuuri closed his eyes with relief before hurriedly pulling things out - the gel packs first, so they could sit in the freezer while he did the rest - and secreting them away in the right cupboards and closets in the kitchen and bathroom.
Stuffing all the empty bags into their designated drawer of empty bags, Yuuri grabbed only what he wanted for Victor tonight, took a deep breath, and started for the bedroom.
The minute Yuuri opened the door, Makkachin yipped then barked like wild, jumping off the bedspread to rush up at Yuuri in defense of his sleeping owner.
“Hush, hush Makkachin, it’s just me, it’s Yuuri!” Yuuri strained, crouching down and reaching out to let the dog sniff and assess him.
“-Yuuri?” Victor moaned, voice low and gravelly with having just woken up. The light came on and Yuuri felt the wave of affection for his fiancé wash over him at the sight of Victor blinking anxiously over an empty water bottle, trying to focus on him as fast as possible.
“Yeah, it’s just me,” Yuuri replied with a calm whisper, not sure if he was talking to his fiancé or Makkachin or both. He stood up and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed next to Victor, with Victor watching his every move with rapt, worried eyes… which looked red around the rims. He opened his mouth to speak but Yuuri bent low and caught his words with a kiss.
“I love you, Victor,” Yuuri whispered.
“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Victor said, clearly on a totally different wavelength. “I want to skate with you. I want that, Yuuri,” he promised, his voice cracking.
“Good,” he shrugged simply, “then you will.”
Victor licked his lips and nodded up at him, traces of fear and doubt heavy in his eyes. Yuuri leaned back down to make Victor close them. He brushed his lips gently along Victor’s, then whispered into his ear with a smile. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
Victor’s eyes popped open and tilted his head to look at his love’s excited smile for just a moment before Yuuri jumped back up away from him.
“Yuuri… what?” Victor asked, sitting up to see what Yuuri was picking off the floor before coming around to the foot of the bed. Yuuri gestured to the items.
“We can get the swelling down tonight, I think,” Yuuri muttered, working the blankets off around his fiancé. Victor had put his pants back on at some point. While not as shallowly pleasing to Yuuri, it had the added benefit of another soft barrier to the frigid gel pack he was about to apply. “We’ll leave your feet for now, as long as they’re clean…?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow at Victor. Victor nodded, then shrugged
“Soap and water,” he offered.
“That’s fine,” Yuuri ruled. He took a compression wrap and began to very lightly wrap it around Victor’s knee before settling the pack over it.
“You’re an idiot for not having done this.”
“I did!” Victor replied, “every day after-”
“Mmm… for how long?”
“Longer than I’d ever done it before…”
“So not long enough,” Yuuri countered and Victor huffed, but this time it was playful. He sat up straighter, taking more of an interest in Yuuri’s ministrations.
“I know how to do this. I know how to do all of this,” Victor said quietly as Yuuri pinned the wrap down and moved onto his left knee.
“Yes, but you didn’t. Because apparently this doesn’t work on old people like yourself-?” Yuuri tried not to smile, but he tipped his head to look into Victor’s eyes from under the curtain of his silver hair, “do all Russians think healing cannot be done past twenty-eight or is it just my moronic fiancé?”
Victor let out a deep, heavy laugh and rubbed his eyes.
“Vazhno ne to, kak dolgo ty prozhil, a kak xorosho zhil,” he chuckled.
“What’s that?” Yuuri asked, humoring his fiancé as he finished and began pulling the blankets over him.
“Russian proverb. How well you live makes a difference, not how long.”
“Ah,” Yuuri hummed as he climbed up the bed, “Well, in that case, we should kill you now. You won’t ever beat your five-time GPF record, so-ah!” Yuuri fell into sharp laughter and giggles as Victor attacked him with tickles.
The rest of their evening descended with the two wrapped up in each other, and Yuuri’s inexplicably accurate internal timer telling them when to remove and reapply the cold gel packs.
They were both on the verge of sleep when Yuuri turned to face Victor, whose eyes were closed.
“Victor?” Yuuri breathed and Victor shushed him. “Victor,” Yuuri smirked at Victor’s brows furrowing with sleepy annoyance, “I promise you. By the end of the weekend, you’re going to feel really good.”
“Mmm… okay, solnyshko,” Victor breathed, “now sleep…”