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"Mister Plisetsky should be fine from what we can tell, it's just a light concussion. But he should avoid training for a while and ensure he doesn't exhaust himself or he might actually end up with a larger problem." The doctor nods in the direction of the door and points, as if to emphasize his desire to get rid of him.
Understandable, really, because athletes are terrible patients. They rarely listen and always know what's best for them—or at least they think they do, just to end up in a worse condition than they started. But there's not much chance for Yuri to make that happen. His head's already screaming and throbbing. If that's the result of a light concussion, Yuri's not ready to risk a stronger one. Besides, Lilia and Yakov would probably kill him if he actually went back on the ice anytime this week.
The fall wasn't even fancy. Nothing spectacular. Not a lift or a spin or even a jump. Yuri simply collided with Georgi and fell. Maybe because he stared across the rink at the newly arriving Otabek, but who wants to split hairs? He fell. He knocked his head on the ice. He'll live, but until then, there's no need to shut up about his misery. Not with the way Otabek is taking care of him.
They settle on the sofa and cuddle up under a blanket. It's just cold enough to do so without it turning into a sweaty mess. Thank fuck. After moving in together last year, summer was hell. They wanted to touch but couldn't. Now though? Everything's different and Yuri curls up on top of his favorite person in the world, right after his grandfather.
"Hey. No napping."
"'m not sleeping."
"Yes you are."
"'m not."
"You know I have to wake you if you fall asleep, right? You're concussed."
"Just a little."
"I can't wake you 'just a little'."
Yuri glares up at his partner. "Just a little nap."
"Well, fine. But I have to wake you up regularly. And you can't be angry with me. Promise?"
Yuri grumbles and closes his eyes.
Where is he? Not the living room. Should he be in the living room? And why's Beka shaking him?
"Yura? Wake up."
"Nooooo." Yuri grabs the pillow, turns around, and tries to hide under it. "I don't want to be awake."
"You're concussed. Two hours have passed, let me check your pupils."
Yuri groans, but the sun erupts in front of his face. Otabek shines a small light directly in his eyes, the fucking traitor, and Yuri loses his sight on top of his orientation. "What the FUCK?"
"Your pupils seem to be reacting normally again." Why does he sound so chipper? Is this even legal? Fuck Otabek.
Yuri rolls over and attempts to pull his pillow over his head once more. This time, he's successful.
The second time the hand shakes him awake, Yuri considers biting. He glares over his shoulder at his partner, but then calms down a little when Otabek holds up an alarm clock to indicate two more hours have passed. At least he looks just as exhausted. "What time is it?"
"Ten. And I need to check your pupils."
"Ten?! Wait, we went to bed at eight?"
"Well, I went to bed." Otabek settles on top of Yuri, straddling him to avoid the angry rider jumping up and running. Smart man. "You wanted to 'go to couch'. I carried you here."
Another mystery of the universe solved. Yuri nods. "Thank you."
Otabek gives him a soft smile, but a second later blinds Yuri with the devilish light of his mobile flashlight. Again. "Looks good. No difference in the way they are dilating."
"Ain't I lucky?" What's meant as sarcasm sounds a little like a pouty child. Fuck.
"The luckiest. You've got me." Otabek's too fucking smug for someone who just woke up.
"I love you. But I hate you. Turn it off."
"I need to check your eyes."
"No, you don't. I'm alive. That's more than enough. Go to sleep." He lightly kicks his partner, which earns Yuri a responding kick from Otabek.
"Brat. I'm trying to take care of you."
"And I love you for it. But it's midnight. It's too late, sleep."
This time, Otabek pulls his own pillow over Yuri's head.
"What time is it even?" Yuri rolls over and glares.
"It's … two in the morning and this is torture."
"Sounds like a radio show."
"Shut the hell up." It's kind of hot when Otabek curses.
Yuri snuggles into the curve of his body. "I love you, too. Now free us from that shit. I'm obviously fine." Instead of a reply, Yuri gets a kiss. That's fine as well.
"I hate you."
"You're still alive?"
"I wish I wasn't."
"Love you, too."
When his last alarm rings, it's six in the morning. No more rolling around, it's time to start their day. Everything hurts and Yuri's head is still pulsating. He probably has giant bags under his eyes …
But he's alive.
And Otabek? Otabek looks like someone drove a car over him. Repeatedly. After all, he had to wake up as well. And worry on Yuri's behalf. Besides, the poor soul has to go train today.
Maybe, in hindsight, Yuri was a little mean. "Beka? You gotta get up. It's skating time." His better half offers a grunt, so Yuri tries to bribe him with kisses. But Otabek doesn't move. "Beeeeka." Yuri pokes his side, and finally, he gets a small smile. "I'm alive. I love you. And I'm glad you checked on me."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
And maybe it's the concussion that makes Yuri lightheaded. But it could also be the gentle kiss of his best friend.
