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Yuuri had things to do.
He had an essay to write, people to reply to, things to organise, but he was just lying there.
Lying in bed, staring at the roof, listing all the things he had to do but had no moderation to do.
It was a low day.
It didn’t help that he wasn’t even at home.
He was in Russia with his boyfriend-fiancé-husband, he wasn’t quite sure what their technical title was yet.
Victor, the love of his life, had been called to Russia after his youngest sister had died unexpectedly in a car accident. Victor had refused to go without him and he just couldn’t say no, especially to Victor’s puppy-dog eyes.
Victor had two sisters, both younger than him. He had only met one, the youngest, Sofia, the one that had passed away.
Now that Yuuri thought about it, Sofia was the only other Nikiforov he had met. Victor had once told him that his family had never accepted his sexuality, which was how Victor had ended up in America.
He felt selfish for thanking Victor’s family for not accepting his sexuality because he wouldn’t have met Victor if they hadn’t.
Sofia had been the only one that accepted Victor, and it showed by just how close the pair had been. Always messaging and calling.
Sofia had married young, at nineteen she was already married to her high school sweetheart and had a little baby boy.
At twenty-two, they were burying her with her husband as her three-year-old son stood quiet by his grandfather.
Despite the obvious disapproval, Victor and himself had been allowed to stay at the family home. Which is where he currently was, lying in bed staring at the roof listing all the things he should be doing.
He could hear the Nikiforov’s arguing downstairs, Victor had left the door open a crack when he had last checked on him and he hadn’t had the energy to get up and close it completely.
The blur of Russian downstairs was too fast and too complicated to keep up with the basic knowledge Victor had been slowly teaching him whenever he had time between classes and work. But he could tell exactly one thing, Victor, Victor’s father and middle sister were fighting over Yuri.
The small blonde child the shared his name.
The child was quiet, hadn’t spoken a word since they arrived. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen the boy eat or drink anything either.
Yuuri let out a sigh as he slowly tilted his head to the side and stared at the door for a moment, contemplating getting up to close it properly, only to reject the idea and return to staring at the roof again.
He went back to listing all the thing he really should be doing rather than lying there.
His essay on environment conservation -because he had thought it would be a good idea to take a media class when he was studying sports science-, he had to message Phichit back to tell him that he wasn’t dead -Mari too-, he needed to start organising their luggage because after everything with Sofia’s will was organised they would leave.
He thoughts came to a halt when the bed shifted beside him.
A frowned of confusion overtook his face because it wasn’t Victor, the platinum haired Russia was unable to stay quiet.
Yuuri tilted his head to the side and blinked in surprise at the bright pair of green eyes that stared back at him.
He felt his body freeze as he stared at Yuri Plisetsky.
It had been years since that day, and yet he still found himself freezing up around children.
The small blonde child didn’t seem at all bother by his stillness, instead crawling closer and settling into his side, even going as far as pulling the blankets over his small form before letting out a large sigh as he rested against his shoulder.
Yuuri shouldn’t be scared.
Yuuri shouldn’t be terrified.
But he was.
He had lost a child, he had lost his child all those years ago.
He spent days, weeks, months crying over the child that was never able to take a breath because of him.
The thing that really stuck with him about the incident was what the male nurse had said to him as they took the body away.
‘This is what you get for trying to have a baby while pretending to be a boy’
The words scarred him, resonated with him.
It caused his fear of children.
It was an irrational fear and he knew it.
To fear touching a child for the fear of accidentally killing them.
“Mama proshlo.” The small child mumbled, causing him to turn his head back to the roof and let out a deep sigh.
“Da,” he mumbled, voice too soft, too gentle, too feminine. Sofia was gone, gone and not coming back and that very thought was upsetting.
Silence filled the room, which surprised him. The few times he had seen the small blonde –all of which were when he had walked in on Victor and Sofia skyping and the boy had been seated in his mother’s lap- the boy never stopped talking.
He lay there, trying his best to control his breathing as Yuri used him as a pillow.
The longer they simply lay there, the easier it became to breath. The easier it became to relax in the boy’s presence.
He wasn’t sure how long they just lay there, simply content to be in each other’s presence.
“Yuuri!” Victor’s voice shouted before the door was thrown open suddenly, jolting him into an upright position at the clear panic in Victor’s tone.
“Yuri is,” Victor’s voice trailed off as he stared at the young blonde beside him. He turned back to the young boy, only noticing then that there was a tiny hand wrapped around the edge of his shirt, keeping him from going too far.
There was a snarky response from the hallway before Victor’s middle sister marched into the room, barging past Victor and giving him a sneer.
“Rozalina,” Victor growled as the blonde-haired woman marched towards him and quickly untangled the child from his shirt and scoped Yuri up into her arms.
“NET, NET, NET, NET,” Yuri stared shouting immediately as Rozalina began to walk away. The blonde continued to shout and squirm, causing Rozalina to bark out something in Russian before the blonde child was saved by Victor.
He watched his love scoop the child out of his sisters arms, ignoring his sister’s protests before walking towards him and handing him the child before he would protest.
Yuri immediately went silent, clinging to his shirt while pressing himself tightly against his chest.
The Nikiforov siblings snapped Russian at each other for a moment before Rozalina stormed out of the room with a huff.
“Sorry about that, lyubimyy.” Victor said while gently lifting a hand to his back and rubbing it softly, “Feeling any better?”
“A little,” he admitted while shifting the small child pressed against his chest to a more comfortable position. “I don’t know how this happened,” he admitted softly, earning a kiss in the cheek.
“It’s okay. It was rather relieving to hear Yura talk, even if it was in protest.” Victor chuckled while ruffling the boys head. The toddler whined and turned his head to glare at Victor.
“Yusha,” he glanced up at Victor’s nickname for him, “Feel like coming downstairs?”
Yuuri stared at Victor closely for a moment, mentally debating if he wanted to go downstairs.
“I… I don’t have my binder on,” he mumbled quietly.
“It’s okay. Yura hasn’t been eating and we just wanted to see if he was hungry. Maybe you could get him to eat, he seems very attached to you,” Victor said softly, stilling rubbing his back gently. He glanced between his love and the small child he was holding for a moment before slowly nodding his head. He was wearing one of Victor’s shirts which was baggy enough to disguise his chest.
Yuuri followed closely after Victor as they headed downstairs, neither saying anything.
It wasn’t until he stepped foot into the kitchen that he regretted his decision to come downstairs.
Rozalina sat at the dining table, sneering at him while Victor’s father -Nikolai- stood in the kitchen, a blank look on the old man’s face.
“Yurochka,” the old man mumbled, earning a huff from the toddler who was cuddled to his chest. Nikolai sighed deeply before lifting a plate up and offering it to him. There were small bun type things on them, he glanced towards Victor before shifting his grasp on Yuri to grab one. He glanced up at Nikolai whose eyes flickered to Yuri for a moment before catching his gaze again.
“Yuri,” he said softly, catching the boy’s attention. He smiled softly as the blonde shifted to look him in the eye. “Golodnyy?” He questioned while offering the bun thing to the blonde. He watched in amusement as the blonde’s eyes widen at the sight of the bun before quickly releasing a hand from his shirt to reach for the bun thing.
“Let me,” Victor said softly, taking the bun thing and tearing off a small part before offering it to Yuri. The small blonde hesitated, clearly not wanting to take it from Victor.
“Yuuri,” he glanced towards his partner before smiling as a bit of the bun was offered to him. He opened his mouth and accepted the bit, chewing on it and hummed in enjoyment. The toddler eyes widened while watching him eat before turning towards Victor and opening his mouth.
Victor chuckled softly while tearing off a little bit and popping it into the boy’s mouth. The next few minutes consisted on Victor feeding Yuri bits of the bun as the boy cling to his shirt.
“You take him,” Nikolai’s voice broke the silence that had settled over the kitchen. Yuuri glanced towards the older man who was staring at the young blonde closely, Victor had grabbed a second bun and was sharing it with the blonde, feeding himself after every bit Yuri got.
Rozalina gasped before speaking rapid-fire Russian, which Nikolai seemed to knock back with a simple wave of his hand.
“What do you say, Yuuri?” Victor questioned while making a face at Yuri, “Take this one home with us.”
Yuuri found his eyes widen, “What?” He questioned in surprised, earning a bright smile from his love.
“Sofia left him to us. Do you want to take him? Rozalina thinks that an unmarried couple is unsuitable to raise a child.” Victor stated simply, that heart-shaped smile he loved so much on the Russian’s lips.
“But we are married?” he replied hesitantly, not sure how else to respond.
“What?” Rozalina gasped from the dining table.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Victor said, his smile turning into a smirk.
“Yuuri and I got married last year. Sofia was there.” Victor replied, causing Yuuri to realise that Victor had purposely drawn that information out of him.
“How?” Nikolai questioned, causing him to glance towards to older Russian before back at Victor hesitantly.
“Yuuri is transgender.” Victor stated simply, “We didn’t have a wedding, just signed the papers and stuff. Easier to organise visas and stuff when we were married.”
Rozalina spat something which clearly enraged Victor if the rapid-fire Russian that flew from his mouth was anything to go from.
“Rozalina, Victor,” Nikolai snapped, pulling both of the Nikiforov siblings up short.
“Big wedding later?” Nikolai questioned while turning his back to them to turn on the kettle.
“Da, papa. One day,” Victor said while wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Good. You take Yurochka. You make him happy.”
Yuuri shared a look with Victor before he glanced down at the blonde toddler in his arms. Yuri was resting his little head against his chest while staring off into space, the blonde’s hands gripping tightly onto his shirt.
“Da,” he mumbled softly while glancing towards Victor.
“Da,” his love echoed, louder and clear, causing him to smile brightly.
Somehow, he had gone from being absolutely terrified of children to suddenly having a child attached to him that was coming home with him.
The essay clearly wasn’t going to get done anytime soon.