Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

IN THE OUTLANDS, the individual chooses when the party ends. Whether they pass out piss drunk or announce they’re heading home. Joe, without much of a word to anyone, vanished. Yuri’s style is to get Omega in the car, approach the host and say his goodbyes; to Pops and the kids. His car, autonomous, takes the shortest route from the industrial dustland to the shining Metropolis.

That busted motorcycle, in spite of all the money it’s owner could spend on fixing it, remains on its last legs and leans on its kickstand in his driveway. Adding insult to injury, it’s owner leans on it in waiting. Omega runs to Joe, wagging his tail as if he hadn’t been sitting on his lap an hour ago. He follows the Champion, happy to see him before realizing it’d be happier with its master before realizing it’d be happier inside a cooled house on its bed with its favourite toy. The dog dances by the door and once Yuri gains access, Joe throws it open and Omega races inside.

“I’m gonna shower!” Joe announces.

Yuri wheels after him. Watching the sweater lift away and excited by the bareness of his lover - or boyfriend, he wasn’t sure - as he hops out of his pants. Joe stretches and twists his torso and marches right into the bathroom. Door left wide open, it’s an invitation Yuri always declines.

People know Yuri to be cultured and in control; to have an immense wealth of wisdom alongside his composure. In truth, he did barely above average in school and didn’t read unless he had to. He was an athlete first and was nothing close to ‘wise’ until he’d conquered his sport. The point is, he could be a fool at times. Joe was in the shower making the opportunity for foreplay clear (or maybe showering with the door open was a habit) and here Yuri was choosing to strain himself by taking the moment of solitude to stand. Really? Right before bed?

Physical therapy was a struggle lessened only by his initial dedication but stagnant when he became stagnant. The first few months of his condition and the month before it made him an emotional mess. He hadn’t been this way since he was a cocky teenager. From the announcement of Megalonia until now he felt enthusiasm, jealousy, obsession, depression, anger, and love. One day, he woke up and was just… okay. Okay became fine, fine became good, good is where he is now, and now and again he tests his patience and physical limits by being on his feet for as long as he can without assistance.

Finally, Yuri sits on the bed. He undresses and slips under the cool covers. A rewarding experience regardless of how life was going for him but, tonight, he doesn’t take much time to appreciates it. He rolls over, takes out the lube and the condoms, and places his phone on it’s charger— a missed call from Mikio? Yuri huffs through his nose and sits up as he puts the phone to his ear.

You have… one missed call...

First unheard message…

 

… Yuri! I’ll be over tomorrow around three. Earlier, if you’re not hungover.

 

End of unheard message.

 

Yuri deletes it. What did Mikio want? Given the recent announcement of a second Megalonia, the older Shirato sibling might want to check up on him. But there was no negotiating. Mikio would be at the house around three. On the dot, most likely. Did this have to do with Yukiko? In a good way? In a bad way? Relevant to Yuri how? He wasn’t an employee and, while the three of them made up, it was more about being civil than being friends. Granted, neither Yuri, Yukiko, or Mikio were the ‘friend’ type.

Joe plops down beside him and shakes his head, lavender-infused moisture flying from those dark curls. But his crazed grin slowly drops as he ruffles Yuri’s hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Missed call.” Yuri lies down and closes his eyes, “Mikio’s stopping by. Didn’t say why.”

The blanket is lifted and settles over the two of them. A rough hand rubs Yuri’s stomach but it’s the lavender musk that wills his eyes open.

“It’ll just be Mikio, right?”

The question nearly loses its seriousness once Yuri faced Joe with the towel around his head.

He smiles, “Most likely.”

Mikio said three but Yuri called him as soon as Joe was functional. Sometime before noon, the Shirato Group’s newest Director of Medical Technology arrived. White suit, hair still a bit long but swept back, and sunglasses as big as his smile. Omega runs over, dances about a bit, and races back. A good sign.

“Yuri! How are you?” he greets and takes a moment to acknowledge Joe.

“You’re here on business so state your business,” says Yuri.

“This isn’t business. I’m offering you an opportunity. No contracts, no employment. Just me to you: integrated biotechnology without the celebrity. I can make you walk again.”

Silence.

Mikio folds his arms, “This isn’t a difficult decision.”

“You’re right. I do want to walk again–”

“Great,” and Mikio’s hands slap against his sides. He extends a hand behind him, “Get in. I’ll have the operating table ready by the time we arrive.”

Yuri looks at Joe. Unsure why he was hesitating or why he thought Joe would have an answer.

Joe smiles, “I’ll take care of Omega.”

That was comforting enough. Yuri smiles and wheels himself to the driveway. He gets into the passenger seat and Joe folds his wheelchair to put in the back. Omega barks and seems restless but neither he nor Joe do anything but watch as Mikio pulls out of the driveway.

Mikio spoke during the entire ride to Shirato Headquarters. First on disclaimers and warranties, then on the technology of Yuri’s new spine and what he can expect during recovery. Yukiko brought Shirato’s latest to the war effort. Mikio, surprisingly, took on a more philanthropic approach. His focus being on accessibility. Yes, yes, an Integrated Gear soldier could punch through three feet of concrete, but could he hold glass without shattering it? Yuri was, in fact, the second the receive this opportunity. Veteran and former Megalonia contestant, Aragaki, was Shirato’s new beacon of progress. Prolific and relevant enough for Yukiko to be welcoming but personally finding solace in Mikio’s work.

A wave of celebrity status hit Yuri the moment he entered Shirato Tower. Employees from interns to directors gave pause to notice him. Many of them hungry to shake his hand or express their awe but holding back out of fear of for the sake of saving face.

Mikio must feel proud, bringing the ‘King of Kings’ back to Shirato, Yuri thinks. It wasn’t true. Not exactly. But signing back up with the company made him less and less tense as they went on. Once upon a time, this was normal. Once upon a time, this was good. Stepping into the white-and-grey, glass-and-chrome building, working on his boxing, decompressing at the spa, and check up in the medical wing were part of the job. Sitting on a hospital bed, being quizzed about his medical history, getting hooked to machines, lying down, being scanned, and going under were once part of the job.

1… 2… 3… 4… Maybe he needs more? 5…

Chapter Text

GOOD GOD, the medication was a double-edged sword. Couldn’t feel a thing but couldn’t stay awake for the life of him. He remembers being in a car, once, but argues with himself over whether that was actually a dream. Can’t even remember who was driving. He doesn’t think he bothered to look. Probably Mikio. Hopefully Joe. Emphasis on hope. Omega never left his side. Slept right by his bed and would come up to nuzzle his hand when he was awake. When Yuri finally saw Joe, he was letting Yuri’s old physiotherapist, Seiko, into the room. Yuri always did regret stopping therapy. If Joe was a flame, Seiko was the Sun.

“Morning,” Yuri croaks. He looks to Joe, “How long has it been?”

Joe smiles, clearly trying not to laugh, “Your surgery was yesterday. They slapped some science on your spine, you had a sleepover, and I just brought you home.”

Yuri squints but Seiko moves things along. She’ll be visiting Yuri for an hour every day. Two, when his condition improves. It’ll take a few months for him to fully recover, maybe less given the technology involved. Instead of being supervised by surgeons, Mikio, would be visiting to overlook the healing process. Yuri scoured his sleep-addled memory as to where he’d left his back brace and various pillows. Yuri was well-versed in after-surgery care. Don’t get the incision wet, call the surgeon if he has a fever, call the surgeon if there’s drainage (especially if it’s yellow or green), call the surgeon if there are problems with ‘elimination’, and TAKE. YOUR. MEDICINE. What had Yuri’s full attention was when he could try walking. Once the pain subsides and he can stay awake for full days, Yuri could graduate from stretches to actual walking. Seiko goes over a few exercises and the tutorial was over. Yuri could go back to sleep, Seiko jokes.

Joe could’ve stood or grabbed a chair. No, he sits on the floor and Omega takes the opportunity to sit beside him and rest his head on his lap.

“Last time, I didn’t get to see you until months after you were out of the hospital. And now I’m in charge of looking after you.”

Yuri huffs a laugh through his nose, “I’m going to starve.”

Joe cackles and keeps laughing because it’s partially true. He can make rice, anything instant, and tea. Good enough, but Yuri was used to so much more. He’d cook when Joe came over or take him out to dinner.

“Yuri–” Joe begins.

That tone of voice! Yuri’s eyes fly wide and lock onto Joe’s, “Apology. Accepted.” he eases, “You’ve made more than enough amends.”

Joe fought his way to the top so he could take place in the fight of his life. He intended to fight Yuri and either come out a winner or be satisfied with having learned a few things. Never did it occur to him the risk that comes with combat sports. The risk was always his to deal with and always temporary. Bruises, broken ribs, a concussion. Being confined to a wheelchair? Confining someone else to one? Confining someone you respect? Of course Joe felt guilty. Guilt made him distant some days and a doting father on others regardless of how clearly Yuri forgave him. Yuri came to understand that walking again wasn’t just for the sake of his mobility, but Joe’s sanity.

Could the damage I’ve dealt be mended?

“You hungry?”

No, but he hadn’t eaten in a while and if he waited, he’d be too starved to get anything down his throat. He asked for water and whatever was small and not too much work. Nothing came to mind but when Joe came and went offering rice balls, fruit, yogurt, nuts, crackers, a tomato (once he was got frustrated) nothing was appetizing. Each time Joe left the room, Yuri took the moment to rest his eyes. Each time Joe returned, it took Yuri an effort to wake despite only seconds having passed. At the final straw, he heard the door shut.

“Wake up!”

Followed by a few smacks on the cheek. Yuri frowns and glares at Joe, although his first thought was how he hadn’t brushed his teeth all day. Joe presented to him… chocolate! A regular candy bar. Yuri, for the first time in hours, was wide awake. He took the chocolate, eating it piece by snapped off piece with his gaze absently fixed on the repetition. He could finally put a word to what what he felt was missing: his resolve. He’d become too familiar with tolerance - or worse, surrender.

Joe returns with a bowl of rice and a bowl of miso soup. Every ounce of focus is on not spilling the over-full bowl and Omega decided this was the best time to hurry past him. So, yes, there was a bit of a spill but Yuri wasn’t nearly as irritated about it as Joe was. The tray is set down and pillows are stuffed behind Yuri’s back as he sits up.

“Extra tofu in large pieces. Thank you.”

Joe grins, “See? You’ll be well-fed and rested, never bored and never have to worry about Omega. It’d be easier if I bring some of my stuff over…”

Yuri lowers his bowl, “You’re right.”

Joe marches out of the room. Yuri frowns and is slow to raise the bowl to his lips, only to set it down when Joe returns a minute later with his worn-out bag. Omega comes to investigate the moment it hits the foot of the bed. ‘Some of my stuff’ meant ‘what little I own’ which used to be one other pair of pants and a shirt, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a bar of soap that acted as body wash, shampoo, and deodorant (when dry). The wardrobe had grown a bit but remained lacking. Yuri’s lips slightly part. He’d been sleeping with this man for months, too enamoured by the brazenness of the stray dog that he overlooked the ‘stray’ part.

All of Joe’s wardrobe is taken up in two fistfuls. He nudges open the closet door and tosses it all on the floor. Everything else stays in the bag and is crammed in the closet.

“Done. All moved in.”

“You should probably wash your things… buy new ones…”

“Maybe… Don’t want to crowd your closet.”

A smile, “You’re welcome to do so. You’re welcome to stay.”

Joe mindlessly nods and grabs his things from the closet. He asks where the laundry room is before stepping out, whispering about how he’ll figure things out. Yuri sets down his meal, throws off his blankets, and swings his legs over the bed. He remains in the position for a moment. No pain? No pain. He pushes himself to his feet. He was standing. Upright without the vague sense of weakness encompassing his legs, granted, he knew he was testing his luck. Painlessness was actually numbness and if he pushed too hard, damage could be done and he wouldn’t notice. This moment was incredible, but he needed his walker and made his way to the laundry room.

Omega’s claws tap against the hardwood as he comes by, tail wagging and smile open; delighted by the life that had returned to its owner. Joe, too, was delighted - and horrified - when Yuri stepped into the laundry room.

“Quit showing off! Go back to bed!”

“I’m showing you how to use the machine.”

Joe gestures to the underside of the machine lid, “I can read, I’m not an idiot.”

“No, but you’re impatient.”

Would probably toss everything into the machine, dump in too much soap, and let it wash in the wrong temperature water. Joe was all ears but often cast eyes upon Yuri. Watching. Worried. Joe eventually did talk him into returning to bed.

“Look at you, grinning like an idiot,” he laughs. The humour dies down to a soft smile, “I got this.”

Chapter Text

YURI SITS UP. His breaths are quiet. He glances over his shoulder, at Joe, and prays his journey is noiseless. He stands and gives pause. Nothing. One step toward the door… a second step… The pain throughout his body is an even hum. Nothing extraordinary, no pangs, no weakness. Just his burdened feet quietly landing on wood floor. Everything hurts but the medication will be hitting soon. He’ll be standing in the kitchen later having completely forgotten he’d been in pain at all.

The shuffle of sheets. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Short walk?”

“Don't coddle me.”

Yuri enters the bathroom and locks the door. He leans against the counter and begins his morning routine. But the pain had been worse and he’d been through worse. This was truly nothing. Taking off his pyjama top, observes his back in the mirror. He was healed and healing.

Joe bangs on the door. Give him attitude and he’ll blast it back. Yuri doesn’t bother putting back on the shirt and opens the door enough to brace it with an arm. A gesture made useless once Joe shoves the door open, waving Yuri’s phone as he announces that Mikio was calling.

The eldest Shirato sibling arrives an hour after the call and it all comes together for Yuri: the suit. Put Mikio Shirato in a suit – business suit, tracksuit, tuxedo, kimono, whatever – and he becomes insufferable. Sunglasses make him worse. And because he performed Yuri’s surgery, himself, he’s allowed in Yuri’s room. Allowed to pace around, eye the items on the dresser, flip through Yuri’s books, pick up and put down the picture of Omega, throw open the closet door, finger through clothes… you know, things doctor’s normally do while their patient sits on the edge of the bed waiting.

“You and Joe…” Mikio remarks. It was obvious from the beginning but it’s minutes later that he expresses the discovery. He spins and faces Yuri, “Does Yukiko know?”

A slight shrug, “I don’t know. We seldom talk.”

Yukiko, like her brother and her most invested-in former employee, were the solitary sort. When they met, they’d talk business and sport (which was business). They’d talk technology and, at it’s most intimate, discuss politics. It was all highly intellectual and opulent. Expensive but tiny dinners at equally expensive but tiny restaurants, tea in the sterile-white offices of Shirato Co., and nigh-silent trips through the city. At the time, it was exquisite and serene, interrupted only by Megalonia. Yukiko anticipated victory and further prestige. She, perhaps, hoped to win all the hearts within her reach (save for her brother, who was always difficult). Sadly, Yuri would break her heart. He’d always appreciate her acquaintance but no longer wanted her support. If she had a further interest in him, it wasn’t confirmed and it wasn’t mutual. Maintaining a distance between them was wise.

Mikio’s inspection is brief.

“Everything looks good.” Mikio then points to Yuri’s bedside table. The pill bottle by the clock and the pill snapped in two sitting beside it, “And I see you’re already lowering your doses.”

Yuri smiles. Strength cannot be gained painlessly. Not his, anyway. Regardless, Mikio gives him a clean bill of health and takes his leave.

Mikio is amused. He’d only known Yuri as his sister’s stalwart show dog. Such was his job, however. He’d neverseen Yuri outside of his professional mode. Never saw him out of work or without work on his mind. The moment he did ignited a series of dreadful days listening to the boxer scream through self-inflicted torment. When Joe knocked Yuri out he seemed to knock some humanity and some peace into him. Mikio can’t help but wonder whether Joe would have learned civility if Yuri had won.

Joe glances up from his place on the couch as Mikio enters the living room. The Champion lies with the dog lying on top of him. He doesn’t look as out of place as Mikio implied seconds before. He’s… this is his home.

“Everything looks good,” Mikio declares, “But he’s still in a sensitive spot, health-wise, and I’m certain he doesn’t want to be done in by rabies.”

Joe faces the dog, ruffling it’s cheeks, “I don’t bite.”

A smile, “Well that’s one thing I can strike off the list. There’s still flu shot, tetanus shot, various other shots. Do you have transmittable diseases? How’s your liver? How’s your heart?”

Like a stubborn child, Joe won’t face him. But Mikio knows those gears are spinning. There’s no healthcare in the slums. Not any good ones— none Mikio would trust anyway. He doubts Joe’s trusted any either but not being trusted is his forte.

“No contracts, no debts. I won’t even make you sign a waiver. Sue and we’ll pay whatever we owe,” he adds.

Bold claim. There’s a lawyer out there clutching his chest and trying to keep himself from toppling to the ground. But they don’t know Joe. A bold promise is more important than all the money Shirato could offer. Joe ushers the dog off his lap and gets to his feet. Grabs his coat, pops his bare feet into old boots and follows Mikio out of house.

“Joe?!” Yuri calls when the doorbell rings a third time.

His phone buzzes from beneath his pillow. It’s Seiko. Yuri apologizes and hangs up before she could say more and reaches for his walker. Joe really wasn’t home? Maybe he was finally coming around to ‘not coddling’ as was demanded of him earlier. A good thing. Yuri could walk and exercise without that well-meaning worry.

“Sorry about that. I have no idea where Joe went.”

“The wait was fine. The weather is incredible,” and Seiko gasps, “We can do some exercises in the backyard!”

“I have a dog.”

“Front yard!”

“I have a gym.”

There wasn’t much of a front and the backyard was consistently fertilized but Seiko was so adamant about fresh air and natural light, she decided on the living room with the windows open. She moves the furniture aside, giving pause to pet Omega who hopped about in her way. Omega’s trust was the deciding factor when Yuri was first becoming involved in physical therapy. He needed a motivator with energy for two and a warmth to oppose the coldness of those around him. That aloofness was something he’d come to outgrow. It was strange! He was literally in his living room fighting pain and frailty and trying to walk again. He had fallen from grace. But he hadn’t smiled this much since he was a teenager. Hadn’t enjoyed the company of anyone but his dog for the same amount of time. It was strange. So very strange but welcome.

At the end of the hour, Seiko put the furniture back in place as Yuri shut and shuttered the windows. They have a brief consultation regarding next steps and Seiko pleasantly said her goodbye. Joe hadn’t returned but it all became worrying when he doesn’t answer his phone either. He sends a last-ditch message about how he’ll be cooking dinner and gets started. He was pleased that tonight’s katsudon didn’t have to run cold when Joe returned. Tired; defeated.

“Boxing?”

Joe shuts his eyes, “I wish,” he cries to the ceiling. “Mikio said I needed a check up. I’m thinking I’m in for a few needles. I do but on top of that they take my blood, put me through x-rays, an eye exam, allergy test, and they brought in a dentist.”

Yuri sighs a laugh but the humour hits again and he expels a chuckle. The thought of Joe in nothing but a hospital gown with a perpetual look of confusion kept him smiling.

“They cut my hair!” he yells, pointing at his head, “Checked me for fleas — oh, my apologies, I meant to say lice!”

Imagining Joe all pricked and prodded and borderline treated like an animal was no longer funny but Yuri hadn’t noticed the hair. Joe didn’t look any different. There was probably an inch or two missing but it didn’t make a difference. Guess today was the day Yuri learned Joe could be vain about something.

He approaches Joe, runs a hand through what was still an abundance of hair and gives Joe a kiss, “I’m sorry.”

“My teeth are busted and I need glasses but I’m healthy!” Joe announces.

Yuri leans into him and takes holds of his hands, “Healthy enough for a dance?”

Joe’s brows rise, “Are you?”

Yuri hums in affirmation. Seiko gave him a glowing A-OK! when he asked whether he was good enough to dance. Just a little. A bit of side to side and walking in slow… slow… circles. Nothing excessive, he promised. He wanted to dance with Joe, even if it was brief. For the Champion, being quit-footed made the transition to dance effortless. Granted, it was something he’d only do in private. Mostly the Waltz but the occasional shimmying and just plain flailing. A memory that puts a smile on Yuri’s face.

Joe chuckles, “You’re good at this.” He releases Yuri’s hands and holds him close, “Been practising?”

“Of course…” and his ears run scarlet, “I’ve always wanted to dance with you.”