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It was Victor’s fault. That’s what Yuri likes to do whenever something accidental happens: blame it on Victor. He isn’t being serious, though, and they both find it funny.
So when he is on a run with Victor and Yuuri, training together whilst Yavok coaches Mila and Georgi at the rink, and something goes wrong, of course it is Victor’s fault.
It happens out of the blue; one second Yuri is running (and yelling at the Pork Cutlet Bowl to run faster), and the next—
“Shit!”
Yuri catches his foot on a loose paving stone, and his ankle twists and sends an agonising pain shooting up his leg. And he goes crashing to the ground. He slams against the pavement, his whole body throbbing with pain, and his ankle feels like it is on fire. What if he broke it?
“Fucking hell,” he moans.
“Yurio!” Victor says, still using that fucking nickname.
“Yuri, are you okay?” Yuuri adds.
Yuri raises his head, groaning, and sees them crouching in front of him, frowning in obvious concern.
“What do you think?” Yuri snarls, sitting up and grasping his throbbing ankle. “I’ve twisted my fucking ankle. Shit, it hurts.”
“I hope it isn’t broken,” Yuuri says, voicing Yuri’s thought.
“Nyet, I’m sure he’s fine,” Victor says. “But we better get you back to the rink for a check up.”
Yuuri frowns. “Can you walk?”
And that is where the problem lies. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, then, let me carry you,” Victor says, smiling. “Jump on; I’ll give you a piggy-back ride.”
Yuri glares at him. “No way.”
“Either ride piggy-back or I carry you bridal style.”
Realising he isn’t getting out of this, Yuri sighs. “Fine.”
And feeling like a right dickhead, Yuri gets a piggy-back ride for the rest of the run.