Chapter Text
Flu Season: 2015
When Viktor flew back to Japan from Russian Nationals, Yuuri met him at the airport. They had been apart for two weeks, since Barcelona, and while it gave Viktor enough time to train and acclimate to the time change before dominating Russian nationals, it was far, far too long to be separated.
At arrivals, Viktor moved so fast that he was a blur, barreling into Yuuri’s arms and clinging to him like Yuuri was a seat cushion in the unlikely event of a water landing.
“Hey, Vitya.” The smaller man smiled, adjusting his feet to keep his balance under his fiancé's full body weight.
“I missed you so much.” Viktor rasped.
“I missed you too.” Yuuri cooed before Viktor pulled away just enough to cough into his elbow.
It was a deep, wet cough. The kind that whipped throats, and Yuuri could see Viktor’s nose crinkle slightly in pain as it did.
“Sweetheart, are you sick?” He asked, pressing his hand to his love’s forehead. It was hot, and not in the sexy way- well, it was that too- but it was also temperature hot.
For the first time, Yuuri took in Viktor’s appearance. His usually rosy cheeks were pale, and his ice blue eyes were glassy and bloodshot around the edges.
Viktor leaned forward, pressing into the cool hand, “It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.” His voice wavered, sounding much less assured than his words.
“Come on. Let’s get you home.”
“Okay.” He traded his full-body bind on Yuuri for his hand, threading their fingers together and gripping tightly.
***
When they boarded the train for Hasetsu, Viktor still hadn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand. It made loading his suitcase into the luggage compartment difficult.
Yuuri had expected to hear stories about St. Petersburg the whole way back home. Even when they were apart for just a few hours, Viktor always came back with multiple stories about what the konbini owner said or the woman at the ramen bar. After two weeks apart? Yuuri expected to hear stories for months.
But a few minutes into the train ride, Viktor was asleep on Yuuri's shoulder, his arm hooked through his fiancés.
The first few months Viktor was in Japan, he worked his way through several colds. None knocked him out like this, though. This might be more than ‘just a cold.’
***
By the time they made it back to the onsen, Viktor had just enough energy to greet Makkachin before falling into bed.
Yuuri set the suitcases down by the closet. It was late, the rest of his family had gone to sleep hours ago, but Yuuri wasn’t falling asleep anytime soon. Anxiety pricked at the back of his neck, and his heart hammered a little too hard. He was unsettled by the heat that had been radiating off Viktor during the train ride. The way his fiancé clung to him was just a little different. Viktor was always touchy, but this was… more? Almost desperate?
“I’m going to go get the thermometer, Vitya. I think you might have the flu.” He turned for the door.
“Yuuri?”
“Yes?” He swiveled back to find Viktor propped up on one elbow. There was something in his eyes that Yuuri hadn’t seen before. It was sad, but it was more complicated than that too. He couldn’t quite place it.
“Will you sleep in here with me tonight?”
“Of course. You didn’t think I would leave you alone after you just got home, did you?” He smiled and walked out, thinking that was the end of the conversation.
When he came back, Viktor was in the shower. Usually, the Russian man took his sweet time, fogging up the whole bathroom, but Yuuri heard the water turn off just a few minutes later.
He found Viktor curled up, sitting on his bedroom floor, wearing only briefs.
“Vitya, what’s wrong?”
“I tried to get dressed, but I got tired,” he mumbled.
“Here, let me get you some clothes.”
“Everything is dirty.”
“You have more clothes than a department store. They can't all be dirty.”
“Don’t want my clothes.”
“Hmmm,” Yuuri paused before retreating to his closet and returning with his Team Japan sweatshirt. It was an old one and had always been a little big on him. “How about this?”
When Viktor saw the black hoodie, his eyes lit up. He nodded shyly. Yuuri helped him pull it over his head, it was snug, but it fit well enough.
Actually, it fit very well. A size too small, but there was no denying Viktor looked great. The tight fabric hugged his biceps and clung to his abs. It wasn’t fair. That sweatshirt had never looked that good on Yuuri.
Yuuri’s wandering thoughts were interrupted by harsh coughs pouring out of Viktor. “Oh, honey, why didn’t you tell me you were so sick?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t feel this bad before. It got worse on the plane.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’ve just never seen you like this.” He popped the thermometer under Viktor’s tongue before finding a pair of soft, slim-fit sweatpants in a drawer. Viktor seemed happy with the cottony fuzz lining and hummed appreciatively when he slid the pants on.
After far too long, the thermometer beeped.
“Oh, Vitya, you’re 38.8 [101.9].”
“Oh… That’s kind of high.”
“Yeah, come on. Let’s get you to bed.” Yuuri extended his hands to help the sick man up.
“So does this mean we’re not having sex tonight?” Viktor asked, fumbling under the blankets.
“Do you… want to? Because you look miserable, beautiful, but miserable.”
“Well,” Viktor paused before looking up hopefully, “I want you to sleep here with me.”
Yuuri knitted his eyebrows, “And I’m going to. We don’t have to sleep together to sleep together.”
“We don’t?”
“No.” Yuuri sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand against Viktor’s cheek. “Vitya, we’re going to get married, and don’t get me wrong, I love having sex with you, but I think every single night for the rest of our lives might be a little unrealistic.”
Yuuri could see a small smile peek out from where Viktor leaned into his touch.
“Yeah.” He mumbled quietly.
“I think you should just get some rest, love. I’m just going to shower and brush my teeth, and then I’ll be back, okay?”
Viktor paused, but then he nodded, and Yuuri turned out the light as he left for the bathroom.
He expected Viktor to be asleep by the time he got in bed, but he wasn’t. As soon as Yuuri laid down, the Russian climbed on top of him, pillowing his head on his shoulder, and tangling a leg into his fiancé’s.
“Yuuri?” A small voice whispered into the dark.
“Yes, Vitya?”
“Will you stay here all night?”
The desperation in his voice broke Yuuri’s heart. He wrapped his grip around the sick man. “Of course I will.” Yuuri combed his fingers through the silver hair, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I love you?” It sounded almost like a question, or maybe like a plea.
“I love you too. Wake me up if you need anything.”
“I need you.”
“I’m right here. You’ve got me.”
“All night?”
“For the rest of our lives,” Yuuri reminded him.
Viktor’s grip loosened with those words, relaxing into loving arms.
Yuuri wasn’t sure what had happened in him in Russia to make him so desperate for love now, but Yuuri was determined to give him all the love he had, and for Viktor Nikiforov, that was a lot.
“Goodnight, solnyshko.”
“Goodnight, Vitya. I’ll see you in the morning.”
***
Yuuri woke up to several uncomfortable sensations. He was hot. Like really hot, which was weird because it was January and Viktor's corner bedroom wasn’t that well insulated.
It was also a little hard to breathe? Like something heavy was on his chest, and his thighs were resting on a particularly hard lump in the mattress.
Slowly, Yuuri’s brain began to wake up his other senses. He could smell his mom cooking for all the inn guests downstairs, taste his stale morning breath, and see sunlight gleam off the silver spot on his chest.
Wait, what?
Finding his glasses, Yuuri realized why he felt like something heavy was sitting on his chest. Something was.
That something was Viktor, who, at some point during the night, had climbed fully on top of Yuuri and wrapped his limbs around him like a koala.
Viktor’s face was nestled into Yuuri’s collar bone, his chest square against Yuuri’s. It was almost impressive how he wrapped his arms and legs fully around and underneath the smaller man. Yuuri could feel Viktor’s hands pressed under his back, and his feet-
Ahh, those would be the weird lumps under his thighs.
The position was almost comical.
At least, it would be if it wasn’t for the sheer heat radiating off Viktor’s skin. He was either drooling, or maybe sweating, a puddle into the collar of Yuuri’s shirt. Possibly, it was both.
Shit. Yuuri needed to do something about this.
Viktor needed his temperature retaken, some water, food, and maybe ibuprofen.
“Vitya?” Yuuri whispered, carding his fingers through Viktor’s hair. “Vitya?”
“Mhmmm”
“I need to take your temperature.”
“Gghhhh,” Viktor turned his head, burying his face deeper into Yuuri’s chest.
Yuuri chuckled softly, “come on, sweetheart, you have to let me take care of you.”
That got Viktor to lift his face and meet Yuuri’s gaze with glassy but sparking eyes.
He nodded his head.
The Japanese man took the opportunity to shove the thermometer into his fiancé's mouth.
“Hold that in place, okay?”
Viktor nodded and then nestled his cheek back into Yuuri’s chest.
The smaller man laughed, “Vitya, you have to let me get up.”
“Nuh-uh”
“Uh-huh. You need water and food and-” the thermometer rang out. Yuuri held it up to where he could see, “ooh and medicine. Your fever is getting worse.”
“Don’t go,” Viktor mumbled.
“I’ll be right back.”
“No.” It came out like a whine. Something was definitely off, something beyond the flu symptoms.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why are you so afraid of me leaving?”
Viktor’s voice was small, “because I need you,” he whispered.
“I’ll be right back.”
Viktor didn’t say anything.
“Are you scared I won’t come back?”
Viktor shook his head but tightened his koala grip. His desperation started an ache in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or punch whoever made Viktor scared like this.
“Okay, love.” Yuuri dropped a kiss on the silver hair, “it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Makkachin nosed her way up to where the couple lay on the bed. She sniffed Viktor’s hair, then his back before deciding she too thought Yuuri looked like a great bed.
The poodle dropped her head down across a tiny sliver of shoulder, not occupied by Viktor, and cozied up against the couple.
“See?” The Russian mumbled, “Makka also thinks you shouldn’t leave.”
Yuuri sighed, “well… I couldn’t leave my two favorite people.”
Viktor swiveled his head, so it was half snuggled into Yuuri and half into Makkachin. He made a little contented sound before saying, “Solnyshko, my head hurts.”
Yuuri couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Yeah, that’s why I was going to get you medicine.”
“You can’t get up now that Makka’s on top of you. It’s illegal.”
“I don’t think I could have gotten up before,” Yuuri mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.
But Viktor still responded with a soft “net.”
Yuuri couldn’t stay annoyed for long, gazing down at the beautiful sight on his chest. Viktor’s disheveled, silver hairs blended into Makkachin’s fur, mixing with brown and gray curly strands.
If someone had told Yuuri a year ago that this was what his future looked like, he would have called them crazy. Actually, he might have just keeled over and died from sheer nervous anticipation.
Almost a year ago to the day, Yuuri placed 11th at nationals, quit skating, and hid away in devastating shame.
And now?
He was lying in Viktor Nikiforov’s bed, a gold band around his finger, a poodle on his shoulder, and a world champion- no, the love of his life- on his chest. It was heart-achingly perfect.
Perfect until a stream of violent coughs (coming from the love of his life) shattered Yuuri’s daydream. He suddenly remembered Viktor was sick, he still needed medicine, and Yuuri definitely couldn’t get up to get it.
Time for plan B. Yuuri found his phone and opened a text to Mari.
Yuuri: Are you busy?
Mari: yes. Some of us work around here.
Okay, maybe plan C.
Yuuri: Remember when we were teenagers and you snuck out to go to that concert in Fukuoka and I covered for you?
Mari: … yes
Yuuri: I’m calling in my favor.
Mari: ugh what do you need?
Yuuri: Can you bring a bowl of rice, ibuprofen, and some green tea to Viktor’s room?
Mari: you’re calling in a favor just for that?
Yuuri: Actually, two bowls of rice? One with an egg.
Yuuri: And another cup of tea?
Mari: give me ten minutes.
Setting down his phone, Yuuri smiled when he noticed the soft, even breaths coming from both the man and the dog on top of him. He was so caught up in watching them that he didn’t see Mari until he heard the click of a camera.
“Phichit’s gonna love this one.” She smiled mischievously, coming into the room with a tray of dishes.
Yuuri felt his face heat up. “Oneechan!” he whined in embarrassment.
“You used your Fukuoka concert favor so Viktor wouldn’t have to move? How many years have you been holding on to that one?”
“He has the flu,” Yuuri said as if this made everything make perfect sense.
Mari rolled her eyes, “you’ve always been too sweet, Yuuri.” She set the tray down on the nightstand. “Keep your favor. You’re going to need it later when Okasan learns there’s someone sick in the house she can take care of.”
“Can I use it for you to not send that picture to Phichit?”
“Not a chance.” She said, turning back towards the door, “I’m going back to work.”
“Thanks for the food,” Yuuri called after her, and she disappeared into the hallway.
Almost immediately, Yuuri’s phone buzzed. Then it buzzed again.
2 New messages in group chat with…
Mari: [1 photo]
Phichit: OMG! This is amazing! So cute!!!
Yuuri opened the photo. Actually… it wasn’t that bad. He didn’t look terrible. And Viktor looked great. The half of his face that was visible was peaceful and angelic. His long eyelashes and disheveled hair laid beautifully across his pale skin. Makka looked really cute too.
Yuuri bit his lip. Okay… maybe it was actually a pretty good picture.
The sun hit the bed perfectly, and Yuuri didn’t hate the face he was making. He was looking at Viktor like he’d hung the stars in the sky, but honestly, that’s what a lot of pictures of him now looked like. He was used to it.
A notification banner dropped down over the photo.
Instagram: Phichit+Chu tagged you in a post.
Okay well, now it’s on Instagram, so Yuuri better just give in and accept that it’s actually a pretty cute picture.
Half begrudgingly and half bursting with joy, he hovered his finger over the picture until he was given the option to save it, and then made it his wallpaper.
Locking his phone, Yuuri tapped the home button to examine how it looked.
God damn it. It was perfect.
He let himself enjoy the image until his screen timed out and went dark.
***
Eventually, once Yuuri’s legs fell asleep, he woke Viktor up. The Russian stirred softly with a cough and several sniffles.
“Time to wake up, Vitya.”
“Yuuri?” His voice was deeply congested. It made his accent deeper and stronger, and to Yuuri’s confusion, sexier.
“Y-yes?”
“I think I want some medicine now.”
“Okay, I have some right here.”
Viktor kinked his neck up to look at his fiancé. Yuuri noted his cracked lips that were pale and open for mouth breathing. His sinuses must be in pressurized, congested hell.
“How did you do that?” Viktor asked in a dazed voice. His glassy eyes stared unblinkingly.
“How did I do what?”
“Did you learn magic while I was in Russia?”
“Umm, no?”
Viktor’s gaze floated to the tray of dishes next to the bed.
“Did you get up?” He asked.
“No!” Yuuri said maybe a little too forcefully, “I promised you I would stay in bed.”
“Then how-” he trailed off, closing his eyes, face scrunched in confusion. After a minute, he just mumbled, “My head hurts.”
“Come on. Let’s sit you up.”
Viktor acquiesced, letting Yuuri move his limp body until he was sitting up and resting against the bedroom wall with a few pillows tucked behind him. Yuuri plucked a tissue off the tray and handed it to him.
“Blow your nose. It will help with the congestion.”
The Russian man shook his head, “too much pressure.”
“Viktor, you can either blow the mucous out now or cough it up later, but it’s going to come out at some point.”
Viktor just looked at him with an inscrutable expression.
Yuuri softened his face with a smile and combed a few fingers through the lengths of silver hair before tucking a tissue into Viktor’s open palm, “sweetheart, trust me.”
That seemed to be all the convincing Viktor needed. He spent the next several minutes trying to clear his sinuses and coughing phlegm out of his lungs. Each time he finished with a crumpled-up tissue, he tossed it towards a nearby trashcan with varying degrees of unsuccessfulness. When he was done, he collapsed back against the wall.
Yuuri picked up a nearby escaped tissue ball and effortlessly tossed it into the trash.
“That’s not fair,” Viktor whined coarsely.
“What’s not?”
“How are you so good at that? It went right into the trashcan.”
Yuuri laughed and dropped a kiss onto his cheek. Viktor blushed at the innocent display of affection.
“Years of practice. Maybe you don’t get sick often enough.”
“I get the flu every year!” Viktor groaned. “Every year, without fail. Watch, Yakov’s not even going to be surprised when I tell him. Sometimes I still have it when the European Championship starts.” He punctuated his sentence with a cough.
“Well, we can’t have that,” Yuuri said, grabbing the tray off the nightstand. “We have to keep you strong.”
Viktor begrudgingly ate half the rice bowl before drinking his tea and finally taking two ibuprofen.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Yuuri offered.
Viktor went quiet for a moment before he said, “will you show me your favorite shows?”
The question took Yuuri by surprise. He blinked. “You… you want to watch my favorite TV shows?”
Viktor nodded, “I was always too busy practicing to watch much TV. I haven’t seen anything. Will you show me the shows you like?”
Yuuri tried to keep a straight face as his heart exploded in his chest and his organs melted into a puddle. He wasn’t sure why, but this was the sweetest request anyone had ever made of him.
“Y-yeah, sure. Umm, Phichit and I used to watch a lot of Parks and Recreation. Do you want to watch that?”
Everyone likes that show. Viktor will probably like it too. Right?
Viktor nodded.
Yuuri retrieved his laptop and found a stream with Russian subtitles for Viktor’s poor, febrile brain. Draping a blanket over the two of them, he wrapped his fiance into his arms as the theme music started.
***
Halfway through the first episode, Yuuri was addicted to the feeling of Viktor laughing against his skin. They sat in companionable silence as Viktor watched the show, and Yuuri watched Viktor.
***
When the second episode ended, Viktor quietly hummed, “I like this show.”
“If you like this season, just wait for the next one.”
***
When the third episode ended, Viktor had sunk down so his head was pillowed in Yuuri’s lap.
***
When the fourth episode started, Yuuri said, “you know, we really should be packing. We only have three weeks to get everything ready for the move.”
“That’s tomorrow’s problem. It’s our rest day.”
That was all the convincing Yuuri needed.
***
They spent the rest of the day finishing the first season of Parks and Recreation.
***
That night Viktor snuggled his head into Yuuri’s pillow while he waited for his fiancé to shower.
Chills ricocheted through his spine as he pulled the blankets tighter around his body. This fever could give a Russian winter a run for its money. It reminded him of walking into his St. Petersburg apartment two weeks ago:
The building hallway smelled like it always did. As the scent flooded Viktor’s nostrils, it filled his chest with a mixture of heartache and nostalgia.
It was nice to be home… sort of.
The key clicked in the lock as smoothly as the day Viktor left, and the door swung open to reveal a familiar sight.
Everything was exactly like he left it. Pristine wood floors covered in shadows, white furniture, a barren coffee table, and bookshelves. It was all very empty.
The apartment looked sterile, devoid of life. It had no smell, no color, no sound. It was just a shell waiting to be filled with life.
It was a stinging reminder that the Viktor who had lived here had no life, not really.
The heartache started to win over the nostalgia as a dull weight tangled in his chest, growing up into his throat, and stinging behind his eyes.
This was the exact opposite of Hasetsu, of the onsen, of living with the Katsuki family.
Viktor was overwhelmed with the need to put something with color in the apartment, something that reminded him of Japan, of home.
Despite his exhaustion, Viktor dropped his bags and pulled out an envelope of pictures that Okasan had sent him with.
Most of them were him and Yuuri; some were with the whole Katsuki family. She had apologized profusely that she hadn’t had time to make them into an album, but Viktor couldn’t imagine them being any more perfect.
He gathered all the picture frames from around the apartment. Almost all of them were podium pictures or candid shots of jumps.
He pulled out every skating photo and systematically replaced them with pictures from Japan before returning them to their original spots.
There.
That was a little better.
He picked up the last picture frame, simple black wood surrounding his favorite picture: Him and Yuuri sitting on the beach with Makka between them. Viktor was smiling at the camera, but seconds before Yurio snapped the photo, the poodle surprise attacked Yuuri with face kisses. When the shutter went off, the smaller man was laughing, attempting to pull his face away from the long dog tongue plastered to his cheek.
Viktor took the picture to his bedroom and set it on his nightstand before climbing into bed.
The memory faded into warm yellow light when Viktor opened his eyes. Yuuri was closing the bedroom door, water still dripping off the ends of his hair.
Viktor felt a little warmer at the sight and even warmer when Yuuri dropped down next to him and pulled him into a hug.
***
An annoying noise rose Yuuri from his sleep.
It was coming from his left.
It was coming from his phone.
Oh. Someone was calling him.
It was another moment before Yuuri realized he should probably answer.
“Moshi Moshi.” He mumbled groggily.
“Vitya?” A gruff voice on the other end asked.
“What?”
There was a pause, and then, “is Viktor there?”
“Yes… well, kind of… who is this?”
“It’s Yakov.”
Why was Yakov calling Yuuri in the middle of the night? He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time and immediately realized two things. One, it was not the middle of the night. It was 6 am. Two, he wasn’t holding his phone. He was holding Viktor’s.
Yuuri woke up all at once. “S-sorry, Coach Feltsman. I didn’t realize this was Viktor’s phone… Oh, this is Yuuri, by the way.” He added belatedly.
“Yes, I assumed. Is Vitya there?”
“Yes! Well, no. Well, kind of? He’s here, but he’s asleep, and…” Yuuri looked down at his pale, sweaty fiancé. He wasn’t sure he should wake him.
“He has the flu again, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” Yuuri said, relieved that Yakov managed to get a coherent explanation out of his ramblings.
Yakov sighed, “how bad is it this time?”
“Umm, not horrible? But he definitely can’t skate for a few days.”
“I’m going to start putting a flu shot into that boy’s contract.”
“He… he gets the flu every year but doesn’t get a flu shot?”
“He always says he’s going to, but then he ‘forgets’ or 'doesn’t have time.' At least this year he had the decency to get it after regionals instead of before.”
“Oh.” Was all Yuuri responded with. Despite Viktor describing Yakov as ‘just a teddy bear with high blood pressure,’ Yuuri still found him a bit intimidating.
“Katsuki, did you get your flu shot?”
“Uhh yes, Sir.”
“Good. Vitya was right when he said you were smarter than him.”
“Sorry… what did he say?”
Yakov ignored the question. "Don’t let him distract you from your training. You need to keep skating, even when he’s not. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“Good. Have Vitya call me when he wakes up.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And don’t let him go somewhere without his inhaler. He’s always leaving it places, and then he doesn’t have it when he needs it.”
“Oh, uhh yes, okay.” This was the first Yuuri was hearing of an inhaler, but he didn’t want Yakov to know that.
Yuuri wasn’t really sure how he got off the phone. He blacked out for the end of the conversation as Yakov shouted various care instructions for Viktor. Yuuri couldn’t help but think he sounded like a parent.
When Viktor eventually woke up, Yuuri was still a little stunned.
“Yuur-” Viktor croaked before a coughing fit cut off his voice. He managed to mumble a minute later, “Yuuri, what time is it?”
“A little after six.”
“Damn. I was supposed to call Yakov.”
“He already called. I answered your phone thinking it was mine… sorry.”
“That’s fine. I didn’t want another lecture about flu shots anyways.”
“You really should get your flu shot, Viktor.”
The Russian man grumbled and buried his face into his pillow. “I know! I was going to, but then I forgot.”
Yuuri laughed, “that’s what Yakov said you would say.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“He said to make sure you don’t go anywhere without your inhaler.”
“It’s in my backpack,” Viktor mumbled into the pillow.
“Viktor?”
The sick man lifted his head to meet Yuuri’s gaze.
“How did I not know you needed an inhaler?”
He shrugged, “I haven’t needed it in Hasetsu.”
“Okay. Well, what is it for?”
“Asthma.” Viktor dropped his head back to the pillow as if this was the least interesting conversation he’d ever had and not a revelation that was blowing Yuuri's mind.
“How has this not come up before now?”
“I don’t know.” Viktor whined, “I used to have a lot of attacks as a kid, but now I only have a couple a year. I haven’t had any in Hasetsu.” Viktor crawled over to Yuuri and snuggled up against his fiancé’s side, “take it as a compliment. You have clean air.”
Viktor closed his eyes and nuzzled at Yuuri's ribs. The Japanese man’s heart melted at the touch. He wrapped an arm around his sick fiancé. It was hard to be annoyed when his heart was constantly doing gymnastics in his chest. He sighed and gave up.
“What do you want for breakfast, Vitya?”
“Not hungry.”
“You have to eat something.”
“Mh-mm” Viktor shook his head.
“I think my mom was making taiyaki this morning. Do you want some of those?”
Viktor paused in thought before begrudgingly saying, “Da. Just one.”
***
Yuuri managed to drag Viktor to the couch and burrito him in several blankets.
He nibbled at his taiyaki for a while before curling up in Yuuri’s lap again.
“When is your ice time today?” Despite the mundane question, Viktor’s voice was tiny. He asked it like he dreaded the answer.
Yuuri combed his fingers through the sick man’s hair. “Not until ten. But I don’t have to go. I can stay here-”
“No, you need to practice. But-” Yuuri felt Viktor grip a fistful of his sweatpants, “will you sit with me until you have to go?”
“Of course.”
Viktor wriggled around, so his head was buried into Yuuri’s abdomen, wrapping his arms tightly around the smaller man’s back.
There was that desperation again.
Yuuri had to blink tears away as he wrapped one hand around the back of his fiancé's head and one between his shoulder blades. He whispered, “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
Viktor shivered.
“Are you cold?”
He nodded his head
“Come here.” Yuuri laid down across the couch and pulled Viktor up to snuggle into his chest. He loosened the blanket burrito until it was draped over both of them. Quickly, Viktor readjusted his grip to wrap around Yuuri again. “Better?”
“Yes.” It was a tiny whisper.
They stayed there together for a long while. Yuuri tightened his arms around his fiancé, wishing he could squeeze the pain out of him. He didn’t know what fear was plaguing Viktor’s mind, but he was determined to fight it anyways.
***
When ten o’clock rolled around, Viktor had to convince Yuuri to go to the rink, despite the terrible ache it caused in his chest.
Yuuri eventually gave in, agreeing to go, but not before showing Viktor where his inhaler was (about five times) and having a lengthy conversation with Hiroko in the kitchen (where Viktor is not allowed until he gets better).
And then Yuuri was gone, and despite knowing it was the right choice, Viktor hated how empty the couch felt.
How empty he felt.
Which really only added to the already excellent body sensation he had. His head hurt, his skin was too cold but also sweaty, all his muscles ached, his throat throbbed, his stomach swirled uncomfortably, and for some god-forsaken reason, his eyes hurt.
Some undetermined time later, soft footsteps padded into the room, “Vicchan?”
Viktor opened his eyes to find Hiroko looking down at him.
“It’s time to check your temperature.” She said matter-of-factly before popping a thermometer under his tongue.
Viktor wasn’t aware that there was a schedule for checking his temperature, but Hiroko looked at him the way he imagined a mother was supposed to look at a sick child, so he just mumbled, “thank you, Hiroko-san.” around the thermometer.
“Vicchan, don’t you think it’s time you start calling me Okasan?”
Okasan. Mom.
The thought made Viktor’s heart swell, and his breath froze in his lungs, which made him cough, because Viktor couldn’t just have a nice moment.
He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder before Hiroko, no Okasan, disappeared back towards the kitchen.
As Viktor caught his breath, he could still feel that hand on his shoulder.
Viktor perused the Cyrillic labels in front of him. He thought his first trip back to a Russian grocery store would be a relief, not having to translate every label in his head, but he felt nothing. After his eight-month absence, his apartment had no food in it, but he couldn’t bring himself to get excited about anything on the shelf in front of him.
Aimlessly, Viktor wandered from aisle to aisle until he turned down one and stopped dead in his tracks.
A middle-aged woman with long silver-blond hair stood just several yards away. Instantly, Viktor’s heart was racing. He thought it might burst right out of his chest.
He had just made up his mind to walk away before she noticed him when familiar blue eyes lifted and met his.
“Viktor, is that you?”
“Hi, Mama.” And for some stupid reason, he started walking towards her. “I didn’t know you were in St. Petersburg.”
She lived in Moscow. A four-hour train ride away, and yet here she was, at Viktor’s grocery store.
“I came to visit a friend who lives nearby.”
Oh. Viktor swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed on his reporter-ready smile.
“You look great.”
“Oh, you’re such a sweet boy, Viktor. How has your skating been?”
“I’ve actually been coaching this last year. I just got home from Japan.”
“Japan, wow. You really are all grown up now. How long has it been? Two, three years?”
Seven years.
She turned back to the spice rack in front of her and began looking through all the bottles.
“And do you still have your cat?” She asked offhandedly.
Viktor felt his smile crack a little, but he pulled it back together before Mama could notice.
There was no point in correcting her. She would only forget again.
“Yes.”
“Wow. He must be getting on in years.”
“Yes.” He admitted with a pang in his heart.
“Well, that’s wonderful. I really must get going, but it was so nice to see you. Good luck with your skating.”
She turned to walk away, and Viktor wasn’t sure why, but he called after her, “we should get dinner while you’re here, in St. Petersburg.”
“Oh.” She turned back for just a second, “sure. I’ll call you.” And then she turned the corner.
She wouldn’t call. Viktor knew that.
But it still hurt a little when she didn’t.
*beep beep beep*
A shrill sound snapped Viktor back to reality. He pulled the thermometer out of his mouth. The numbers were all in Japanese, and while they looked familiar to him, he couldn’t figure out what they said.
Okasan came back in with an armload of items.
“Vicchan, lay down. You need rest!” She tucked a pillow under his head and shooed him down, adding more blankets around him. She picked up the thermometer and tutted, “poor, Vicchan.”
Over the next half an hour, Okasan came in and out of the room so many times that Viktor lost count. She brought him a cold cloth for his head, medicine, food, cold water, hot tea, and a humidifier (which really wasn’t necessary in an onsen).
All Viktor had to do was think about what he wanted, and Okasan appeared with it. “Arigatou Okasan.” He mumbled for the millionth time after she brought him ice chips made of juice to soothe his throat.
She laughed softly, “you don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing what any mom would do.”
“No,” Viktor muttered in Japanese, “you’re my hero.”
Well, at least he tried to.
He thinks he did, but he doesn’t know the word for hero, so he probably didn’t.
His brain was heavy.
His body was heavy.
And the couch was so comfortable.
Viktor closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep just as he heard Okasan hum, “rest, Vicchan.”
***
He roused when someone placed a thermometer under his tongue. He heard a shrill beep and Okasan’s soft sigh. Pretty soon, refreshingly cold towels were tucked around his head and shoulders. He fell back asleep with a contented sigh.
***
Viktor didn’t know when Yuuri got home because he seemed to just appear and lace his fingers with Viktor’s. They held hands and watched TV until it was time to go up to bed.
***
Yuuri supported Viktor as they crested the stairs. But suddenly, Viktor pushed away from his grip and ran into the bathroom. Throwing his body down in front of the toilet, he began vomiting.
Yuuri took a steadying breath before following his fiancé and combing his hair back out of his eyes. “It’s okay,” Yuuri whispered gently while fighting to keep his own stomach contents down. He was not good with people vomiting.
When Viktor finally pushed away from the bowl, he collapsed onto the bathroom floor.
Oh. He had tears streaming down his face. Yuuri knelt to dry his cheeks, but before he could, Viktor bowed his head with a vicious cough.
It was oddly high-pitched. Almost like it whistled coming out, and instead of subsiding, Viktor kept coughing.
“Vitya, are you okay?”
Viktor tippers his face up. Yuuri could see his watery blue eyes, large and round.
They were filled with panic.
The Russian lifted a hand to his mouth and mimed something, pressing his finger up and down.
Yuuri knitted his eyebrows, staring, until it clicked, “inhaler!”
He sprinted into the bedroom and back to press the small piece of plastic into his fiancé's hand.
Viktor inhaled, one… two… three… before coughing again with a shiver.
He tried again, and this time he made it to five… six… seven…
The third rescue puff got his lungs under control, and he collapsed into Yuuri’s arms, sobbing with an entirely different kind of shuttering breaths.
Yuuri attempted to steady his voice before saying, “It’s okay Vitya.”
He had only seen Viktor cry once before, and while this was an entirely different context, it was no less heartbreaking.
Yuuri’s brain spiraled through everything he could think of to take away Viktor’s hurt, to at least make him more comfortable.
Bed. He should help Viktor get into bed. That was certainly a much better place to cry than a bathroom floor. He knew from experience.
Yuuri pushed off the tile to his feet-
Viktor shrieked “no!” He grabbed desperately at Yuuri and sobbed, “please, no.”
The sound stopped Yuuri’s heart.
It broke his soul.
He could feel high-pitched, pleading shrieks reverberating around his chest.
Yuuri hadn’t actually said he was helping Viktor to bed. From Viktor’s perspective, he’s just pulled away.
“Nononono.” The smaller man fell back down to his knees and wrapped his fiancé in the tightest hug he could. “It’sOkayIt’sOkayEverythingIsOkay.” He stumbled over himself to soothe.
“D-don’t g-gooo.”
Yuuri wasn’t sure what hurt more, the sound of Viktor sobbing or that Viktor thought he had to beg for love.
“I’m not. I’m right here. I was just going to help you up.”
“Please don’t leav-ve m-me.” Viktor was hyperventilating into Yuuri’s shoulder.
“I’m not leaving. I’m never leaving.” He squeezed tighter.
Viktor held on like Yuuri would disappear if he let go.
“I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
He could feel Viktor’s heart racing against his ribcage.
“I’m here. I’ll be here forever. I’m never leaving.”
At a loss for something better to say, Yuuri just kept repeating I’m never leaving.
Eventually, with enough coaxing and comforting words, Yuuri guided Viktor into bed. He held him so tightly that his arms began to ache, but he still didn’t let go.
Viktor could feel his body surrounded by Yuuri’s warmth, but his bones still felt like they were filled with ice. His throat and eyes stung with bile and salt, respectively. Overwhelmingly, he felt a terrible ache in his chest. His lungs felt like overstretched rubber bands.
But more than that, there was the indescribable, unlocatable ache of fear and desperation.
Viktor held tightly to Yuuri, hoping that maybe if he pulled hard enough, he could fill the empty chasms inside of him with Yuuri’s love.
It wasn’t working.
No matter how much he squeezed, it sat heavy in his chest.
He could hear his fiancé whispering soft, sweet words of comfort in his ear, but they sounded far away and staticky.
And as the empty chasms spread through his body, he couldn’t feel Yuuri anymore. It was overridden by hauntingly familiar pain.
Viktor was just four or five years old when he had his first asthma attack. He didn’t remember the episode itself, just how scary it was.
He did remember Mama taking him to the hospital.
He could visualize doctors and nurses standing around him, trying to calm him down as he bit back tears.
One of them gave him some medicine.
Mama was there next to the bed, and she smiled so sweetly at him. “Take the medicine, Vitya. It will make you feel better.”
And Viktor wanted that smile to stay forever. He would do anything to make Mama look at him like that again, so he took the medicine.
And then he was asleep.
When he woke up again, the room was quiet and dark. He looked around. Mama wasn’t anywhere to be found.
It must be a mistake. He just couldn’t see her.
“Mama?” He called out.
But no answer came.
“Mama?” He tried again louder.
Light spilled into the room as the door to the hall opened. “Ma-”
His voice died in his throat.
A woman walked into the room, but it wasn’t Mama. It was a nurse.
“Hi, Viktor.” She greeted him gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” He lied. “Do you know where my mama is?”
Even as young as he was, he could see the pity in the nurse’s eyes. He got that look a lot. “She had to go, but she’ll be back in a bit.”
Viktor nodded as tears blurred his vision and a lump choked his throat.
While the nurse did an exam, he tried his best not to cry.
People don’t like it when he cries. Mama told him it was loud and frustrating.
This nurse seemed to be the only one who wanted to spend time with him.
He wanted her to like him.
So, he waited until he was alone to start sobbing.
“Viktor? Viktor, you’re hyperventilating again. Look at me.”
Suddenly Viktor’s body exploded with heat. He could feel sweat soaking through every article of clothing he wore, and warm hands shook on his back.
“Viktor, can you hear me?”
Yuuri was here. He was still here.
With that realization, some of the tension deflated out of Viktor’s muscles. “I c-can hear y-you.”
“Try to breathe with me, okay?”
It was easier said than done, but over several minutes, he slowed his lungs, let the strain leak out of his body, and loosened his grip on Yuuri, allowing his body weight to be the only thing that pressed them together.
In between each slow exhale, Yuuri praised him.
“You’re doing great.”…
“That’s good.”…
“I love you.”
And that more than anything calmed the black hole destroying Viktor from the inside out.
“I love you too.” He shuttered as the last of his anxiety broke away, and a flood of exhaustion filled its place.
He held onto Yuuri for a long time until the only discomfort left in his body were his flu symptoms (which, by the way, were still very fucking uncomfortable).
He was stiflingly hot.
Viktor rolled to the side, kicking off his sweatpants and attempting to pull the blazing sweatshirt off his body. When it got tangled over his head, he thought about giving up, just slumping over and waiting for the universe to mercy kill him. But a pair of soft hands helped pull it the rest of the way off.
Effortlessly, Yuuri tossed the hoodie across the room into the hamper.
Viktor tried to do the same with his pants but missed horribly.
For some reason, it made him smile when he heard his fiancé snicker at his attempt. Yuuri had the most beautiful laugh. “Yuuri, how are you so good at everything?” He whined.
“I’m not good at everything. I have the advantage of not having a fever right now.” Yuuri smiled and rubbed soft, nonsense patterns on his back. It caused a satisfying chill to shoot up Viktor’s spine.
“We’ll have to try again when you have the flu.”
“I’m not going to get the flu. I got my flu shot, remember?”
“Rub it in,” Viktor said with a cough, collapsing his head back onto the love of his life.
He felt a gentle kiss on his hairline and then a whisper, “are you okay, Vitenka?”
Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes.” It was the absolute truth. Yuuri had never called him that before. He didn’t even know where he learned it, but its effect on him was pure magic, like being high on a healing potion. “I am now. Thank you, lyubov moya.”
“Any time," Yuuri cooed. "Do you want to go to bed, sweetheart?”
“Can we watch a few episodes of Parks and Recreation first?” Viktor didn’t want this moment to end.
“Of course!“ Yuuri hummed with a smile.
***
When the theme song started, Viktor snuggled impossibly closer.
***
When the next episode started, Viktor hummed, “the only thing this show is missing is a good romance.”
“Just wait for the next season.” Yuuri grinned into his hair.
***
Halfway through the next episode, Viktor nearly jumped up in bed, “wait, is this what that meme is from?”
Yuuri giggled, “yeah, there are a lot of memes from this show.”
“Wow… maybe I’ll start understanding the internet after we watch this!”
He laid his head back down and sighed in contentment as Yuuri mindlessly played with his hair.
***
By the beginning of the next episode, Viktor was asleep.