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It starts with a sniffle that soon devolves into the full-blown flu.
Now, Victor is rendered helpless; bedridden and alternating between fits of shivers and sweats. His head pounds and he can only breathe through one nostril at a time. The fire in his throat has subsided somewhat, but he avoids speaking if he can help it.
Yuuri enters their room as quietly as possible, setting a tray on the nightstand that holds a steaming mug of honeyed green tea and a fresh portion of okayu. The sticky rice porridge is simple but tastes like heaven to Victor who can't stomach anything else at the moment.
Bending down, Yuuri uses his fingertips to sweep Victor's bangs away from his eyes. "Hey," he says softly. "How do you feel?"
Victor groans, the noise pitiful and weak even to his own (clogged) ears.
"You're so hot," Yuuri murmurs, his knuckles brushing over Victor's fevered skin.
Victor smiles at that and temporarily forgoes his own rule of not speaking. "Me? You should look in the mirror sometime."
Yuuri snorts. "Always the charmer. But no talking, remember?" he scolds playfully. "Open up."
Victor obeys, expecting a spoonful of warm rice. Instead, he feels the cool metal tip of the thermometer placed under his tongue.
When it beeps a few seconds later, Yuuri squints in the darkened room to read the results. He sighs. "39.4. Still high." He sounds worried. "Do you think you can sit up for a little bit?"
Victor nods and Yuuri slips a supportive hand underneath Victor's back to help him. They move slowly to avoid triggering a dizzy spell, and once Victor is situated, Yuuri leans over him to fluff up his pillows.
"Here, Vitya," he says, reaching for the glass of water next to the tray. “Keep drinking, okay? It’s important to stay hydrated.”
Taking a sip, Victor watches as Yuuri stirs the rice with one hand and retrieves two acetaminophen capsules with the other from the bottle stored in the nightstand drawer. “I think you can have another dose,” Yuuri says, collecting some rice onto the spoon. “It’s been six hours since the last one, right?”
Victor doesn’t reply. He only gazes at the beautiful man standing before him and wonders how he got so lucky.
From the moment Victor began showing the faintest sign of illness, Yuuri ordered him to bed, refusing to let him even lift a finger. As a result, Yuuri assumed all of the household chores, as well as tending to all of Victor’s needs.
He feels guilty for taking up so much of Yuuri’s time and even more guilty for feeling that way in the first place. Deep down, he knows he shouldn’t, yet he can’t seem to convince himself otherwise.
“Yuuri,” he says finally, voice small, “I don’t want you to get sick because of me. I mean, it’s been almost a week and I’m feeling a little better. I can probably take care of myself now.”
Yuuri pauses with the spoon halfway to Victor’s mouth. “What are you talking about? Ah.”
Victor closes his lips around the spoon, chewing as he continues. “Just... I’m sure there’s other things you’d rather be doing than being stuck inside all day with me.”
”Vitya... don’t be silly.” Yuuri sits at the edge of the bed, the bowl in his lap. “I want to take care of you. Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”
Victor glances down at his hands wrapped around the glass.
The idea of being looked after with such care and attention is so foreign to him, something that hasn’t happened since he was a little boy. However, once he began rising through the ranks in skating and moved to St. Petersburg to train, he found himself virtually alone in a new city where he hardly knew a soul. Yes, Yakov was there, but he was a busy man with other students and other responsibilities. Victor couldn’t expect him to always be there for every little thing, so he quickly learned that the only person he could ever fully depend on was himself.
Of course, that was before Yuuri literally danced into Victor’s life and transformed it in the best ways imaginable.
Yuuri made him come alive, reigniting a spark within him that he thought was long gone. For the first time in years, Victor was excited for the future, and so incredibly grateful that he had found his soulmate to share it with.
“Sorry, my love,” Victor says, looking up at him. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me, because I do. I just... don’t want to be a burden on you over a stupid cold.”
“What? Victor...”
Replacing the bowl and water glass on the tray, Yuuri takes Victor’s face in his hands, stroking one of his flushed cheeks with his thumb.
“You are not a burden, Victor.” Yuuri’s voice is firm as he draws Victor close, holding him against his chest. His voice softens. “Never. Please... don’t ever think that. Besides, even if there were things I wanted to do, I wouldn’t have fun doing them alone. Until you’re better, there is no place I’d rather be than right here with you. I love you, Vitya,” he whispers.
Victor nestles his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck and winds his arms around Yuuri’s middle.
“I love you, too, zolotse moyo,” he whispers.
After a moment, Yuuri pulls back and dabs Victor’s glistening eyes with a clean tissue.
“I know what will make you feel better,” Yuuri says with a smile.
Turning, Yuuri pats the blankets.
"Makka-chan, oide."
Right on cue, Makkachin leaps from her fluffy cushion on the floor and onto the bed.
Victor laughs as he’s showered with eager kisses and gets a face full of soft fur.
Quickly tiring herself out, Makkachin soon settles down and lays by Victor’s side.
“Good girl,” Yuuri says, scratching behind her floppy ears. “Keep your papa company for me, okay?”
Yuuri feeds Victor a couple more spoonfuls of porridge and then gets up to clear away the empty dishes.
“I’m just going to wash these and then come back to give you some cool compresses to bring your fever down.”
Victor smiles and lightly strokes Yuuri’s forearm.
“Thank you, Yuuri. I love you.”
Yuuri responds with a soft kiss to Victor’s damp hair, the unspoken “I love you, too” getting lost in silver strands.
“I’ll just be a few minutes. Close your eyes while I’m gone, hm?”
Yuuri gathers up the heavy tray, but as he starts to shut the door behind him, Victor rasps out:
“Hey, can you actually leave the door open?”
Yuuri glances back at him. “Vitya, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere.”
”Oh, I know. That’s not it. The truth is, I like to look at your butt from here. It’s kind of the perfect angle. Did you know that you dance when you do dishes? It’s very cute and very therapeutic for me. You want me to get better, right?”
“You are unbelievable, Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri says with a laugh. “Even in the state you’re in, you’re thinking about my butt.”
”How can I not?”
”Oh my—“ Yuuri rolls his eyes and goes to the kitchen.
Still, in between scrubbing and rinsing, Yuuri humors Victor and makes sure to throw in some extra special moves just for him.
For his health, of course.