Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yuri Plisetsky was many things: Olympic champion, cat enthusiast, reluctant role model, and the only teenager on earth who could terrify a grown man simply by raising an eyebrow. But he was not—he repeat, NOT—a babysitter. Which made it deeply unfair that he was currently sitting in a sterile hospital waiting room while two idiots he unfortunately loved were in surgery. Well… one idiot. The other was pacing holes into the linoleum. “Yuri,” Katsuki Yuuri said for the twentieth time in five minutes, “do you think he’s okay?” Yurio lowered his phone just far enough to glare. “It’s surgery. They literally said it’s a fifteen-minute procedure. Stop acting like they’re installing a bionic arm.” Yuuri wrung his hands so hard his wedding ring clicked nervously against itself. “It’s anesthesia. Victor’s never had anesthesia. What if he—” “He won’t,” Yurio snapped. Then, with less bite, “Old man’s too stubborn to die.” Yuuri didn’t find this comforting, but he tried to smile anyway. “Right… right.” Yurio scoffed and opened his recording app. “I’m documenting this whole thing. If he comes out of there whining and dramatic—and you know he will—I want it on film.” “You are not posting Victor’s post-anesthesia video online.” “I’m not,” Yurio said innocently. “But blackmail material? Priceless.” Before Yuuri could argue, a nurse pushed through the swinging doors. “Family of Victor Nikiforov?” Both Yuuri and Yurio stood. Yuuri almost tripped over the chair leg. “He’s waking up now,” the nurse said with a warm smile. “Everything went perfectly. You can come sit with him while the anesthesia wears off.” Yuuri nearly sagged with relief. Yurio pretended he didn’t. “Come on,” Yurio muttered. “Let’s go see your disaster husband.” 

              Victor Nikiforov was, in most situations, perfect. Perfect on the ice. Perfect at charming entire continents. Perfect at making marriage look like a competitive sport in which he fully intended to win gold every day. Right now, though? He looked like a confused, sleepy cat who had just been booted from a sunbeam. Yuuri’s heart melted instantly. Victor blinked up at them from the hospital bed, eyelids heavy, pupils wide, face wrapped in a warm post-anesthesia haze. His silver hair was a floofed halo on the pillow. The IV made him look fragile. The goofy smile made him look younger. “Yuuri…” he whispered dreamily. “Hi, Victor,” Yuuri said softly, taking the chair beside him. “You’re okay. Everything went well.” Victor stared at him. Stared. As if the concept of Yuuri Katsuki had just been invented and he was the first to witness it. Then he gasped. Not a subtle gasp. A theatrical, full-chest, opera-worthy gasp of pure revelation. “YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL,” Victor declared at full volume. Yuuri froze. The nurse outside laughed. Yurio began recording. “Victor—” Yuuri started. “No, no, no.” Victor reached out blindly, patting the air until Yuuri caught his hand. “Listen. Listen to me. I don’t know who you are—” Yuuri’s soul momentarily left his body. “—but you’re the most beautiful man alive.” Yuuri’s soul re-entered only to spontaneously combust. Yurio choked. “Oh my god, he forgot you. This is incredible.” Victor wasn’t done. He squeezed Yuuri’s hand with dramatic desperation. “Are you an angel? Did heaven send you? Did I finally die performing a quadruple axel in my sleep?” “You didn’t die,” Yurio said, biting back laughter. “You had a mole removed.” Victor blinked slowly. “A mole?” “Mm-hm,” Yurio said. “On your side,” Yuuri added gently. Victor touched his side, winced at the soreness, then looked back at Yuuri with soggy, emotional devotion. “Are you my doctor?” he whispered reverently. “No,” Yuuri said. “My nurse?” “No.” “My physical therapist? My guardian spirit? My forbidden love?” Yuuri flushed scarlet. “Victor, it’s me.” Victor’s eyes filled with tears. “You KNOW my name.” “Oh my god,” Yurio whispered. “This is better than Worlds.”

                   Victor tugged Yuuri closer with the strength of a sleepy toddler. “You’re so beautiful. Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful? You’re like… you’re like if a cinnamon roll turned into a person and decided to ruin my life.” Yurio’s phone trembled from suppressed laughter. Yuuri hid his face in his hands. “Victor, please—” “No, really,” Victor insisted. “It should be illegal. I should be arrested. I’m calling the police.” He tried to reach for his phone. Yuuri quickly stopped him. “Victor, calm down—” “Marry me,” Victor said suddenly. Yuuri blinked. “We are married.” Victor gasped again. “We’re WHAT?” “Married,” Yuuri repeated, trying not to smile too hard. Victor grabbed his hand and stared at the ring with stunned awe. “You mean… you said yes?” Yuuri nodded. “You asked. I said yes.” Victor burst into tears. Huge, ridiculous, wobbly tears. “I must have been SO HAPPY!” he wailed. Yurio was wheezing. “He’s not wrong.” “Victor,” Yuuri murmured, stroking his hand, “I love you.” Victor made a sound like a dying whale. “HE LOVES ME BACK?!” Yuuri leaned over, pressing a kiss to Victor’s forehead. “Always.” Victor melted into the pillows, trembling with joy. “I’m going to faint. Catch me.” “You’re already lying down, dumbass,” Yurio said. Victor narrowed his eyes at Yurio, recognition flickering. “You look familiar. Are you our son?” Yurio recoiled violently. “ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Victor squinted harder. “But you have the hair.” “What hair?!” “The angry hair,” Victor said confidently. Yuuri choked on a laugh. “Victor, that’s Yurio.” Victor gasped yet again. “Yuri… TWO?!” Yurio buried his face in his hoodie. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving the country. I’m changing my name.” But he didn’t leave. He kept filming. Of course he did. 

                    Victor suddenly grabbed the guard rail of the bed and hauled himself upright with the chaotic determination of a man with absolutely no motor control. “Victor, lie down—” Yuuri started. Too late. Victor puffed out his chest and shouted at maximum volume “ATTENTION, HOSPITAL! I AM MARRIED TO THIS BEAUTIFUL MAN! HE IS MY HUSBAND! MINE!"'Down the hallway, someone cheered. Yuuri covered his face with both hands. Yurio recorded it in 4K with cinematic stabilization. Victor collapsed back into the pillows, panting triumphantly. “Everyone needs to know,” he mumbled, grabbing Yuuri’s shirt. “You’re perfect.” Yuuri kissed his knuckles, heart swelling. “You’re going to be so embarrassed later.” “No,” Victor slurred. “I will be proud.” He wasn’t. But that came later. For now, he gazed up at Yuuri like he had discovered the meaning of life and it had dimples. “Stay with me,” he whispered. Yuuri squeezed his hand. “Always.” Victor smiled, soft and childlike, eyes drifting closed. Yurio sniffed. “Ugh. Gross.” But he tucked his phone away… carefully. 

Chapter Text

Victor Nikiforov woke up feeling… sparkly.

Not metaphorically.

Actually sparkly.

The recovery room lights shimmered far too brightly, and the sterile curtain beside his bed was glowing in a way that suggested it either achieved enlightenment or Victor’s pupils had become dinner plates.

He blinked. Then blinked again. Then stared at the ceiling, because that was easier than facing the vague, creeping sense that something devastatingly embarrassing had happened.

“Ah,” he murmured. “Anesthesia.”

He had prepared himself for grogginess.

He had not prepared himself for the ominous psychic sensation that he had been… dramatic.

Which was never a good sign, because “dramatic” for Victor Nikiforov could range anywhere from “crying over ice cream” to “inventing a new kind of proposal that involved sparklers and a fog machine.”

He turned his head.

Yuuri was sitting beside him, smiling so fondly that Victor’s stomach flipped. Yurio leaned against the wall, arms crossed, wearing the expression of someone who had finally achieved spiritual peace after witnessing the downfall of a rival.

“Oh no,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

Victor sat up slowly.

Yuuri looked nervous.

Yurio looked too pleased.

“Oh no,” Victor said again, louder.

Yurio snorted. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Yuuri pressed a hand to Victor’s shoulder, gentle and reassuring. “You were very sweet.”

Victor stared at him with horror. “Define sweet.”

Yuuri hesitated.

Yurio did not.

“You cried,” Yurio said flatly.

Victor covered his face. “Of course I did.”

“You confessed your love like a soap opera character,” Yurio added.

Victor moaned. “Of course I did.”

“You tried to call the police because Yuuri was ‘too beautiful.’”

Victor’s hands fell from his face. “I WHAT?!”

Yuuri bit his lip, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “You, um… told the entire hospital we’re married.”

Victor blinked slowly. “Well, we ARE married.”

“And then you yelled that I’m your husband at the top of your lungs.”

Victor flopped back into the pillow with a dramatic groan. “Of course I did.”

Yurio smirked. “I got it in 4K.”

Victor’s soul left his body 

Victor sat up straighter.

“Okay,” he said, hands raised defensively. “Before you show me anything—anything at all—just know that I was heavily sedated, extremely emotional, and deeply in love.”

Yuuri laughed softly. “We know.”

“Yeah,” Yurio said. “That’s what makes it funny.”

Victor pointed at Yurio. “Delete it.”

“No.”

“Yurio—”

“No.”

“I’ll give you all my chocolate stash.”

“No.”

“I’ll buy you new skates.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll choreograph your next program FOR FREE.”

Yurio twirled his phone around his finger. “Not even close.”

Yuuri placed a hand on Victor’s knee. “It’s not that bad.”

Yurio burst out laughing. “YOU KEEP SAYING THAT LIKE IT’S TRUE.”

Victor wilted. “Yuuri, please. Just tell me what happened.”

Yuuri hesitated.

Yurio unlocked his phone with malicious glee.

Victor felt himself sweating.

Yurio turned the screen towards him--

    --Victor watched himself blink at Yuuri with the softest, sappiest eyes he had ever displayed in his entire media career.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

Then video-Victor gasped dramatically.

“Oh NO.”

Then video-Victor clutched Yuuri’s hand and said:

“You’re like a cinnamon roll that ruins my life.”

“Oh NOOOOO.”

Yuuri wheezed, covering his mouth.

Yurio kept playing it.

Next clip:

Victor bawling.

“HE LOVES ME BACK?!”

Victor collapsed into Yuuri’s shoulder, face burning. “Stop. Stop it. I can’t watch.”

Yurio paused the video. “Oh, we’re not done. You also proposed. Twice.”

Yuuri corrected quietly, “Three times.”

Victor slid down the bed until only his eyes peeked above the blanket like a traumatized seal.

Yurio hit play again.

Video-Victor, with the emotional stability of warm pudding:

“Marry me”

Video-Yuuri: “We already are!”

Video-Victor:gasps so loudly it scares a passing nurse

Victor groaned into the sheets. “I didn’t—tell me I didn’t—"

“You absolutely did,” Yurio said.

Yuuri rubbed Victor’s hair. “It was adorable.”

Victor stared up at him. “You aren’t embarrassed?”

Yuuri’s smile softened. “You said such sweet things. And you meant them—even if you were out of your mind.”

Victor’s cheeks warmed. “Always.”

“Yeah,” Yurio muttered, “save it for the ice show.”

---

Victor, determined to salvage a shred of dignity, threw the blanket off and attempted to stand.

Yuuri lunged. “Victor—! Your balance—”

Too late.

Victor wobbled like a deer on rollerblades.

Yurio filmed it.

“I HATE THIS,” Victor yelled as he stumbled, arms flailing.

Yuuri caught him around the waist, pulling him close before he could fall.

Victor melted instantly. “Oh. That’s nice.”

Yuuri hugged him more tightly. “Please don’t break your leg right after surgery.”

Victor rested his forehead against Yuuri’s collarbone. “You smell good.”

Yurio gagged. “Get a room.”

“This IS a room,” Victor argued.

“Not the kind meant for that,” Yurio snapped.

Yuuri rubbed Victor’s back with soothing circles. “Sit down. Let the anesthesia wear off.”

Victor sat. Reluctantly.

Yurio smirked. “Say please.”

Victor glared. “I will personally haunt you when I die.”

“That better be a promise,” Yurio muttered.

Victor watched Yuuri fuss with his hoodie sleeve, smoothing it, adjusting it, making sure Victor looked comfortable and warm. Yuuri’s brows creased with worry every time Victor winced. His voice softened every time he said his name.

Victor felt his heart swell with something raw and familiar.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri looked up. “Yes?”

Victor’s throat tightened. “Was I really that… in love?”

Yuuri blinked, then smiled—small, shy, devastating. “You always are.”

Victor reached for him.

Yuuri took his hand immediately.

Yurio rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out.

“You were ridiculous,” Yuuri added, cheeks still pink. “But it was also very… you.”

Victor swallowed past a lump in his throat. “I think I love you even more now.”

Yuuri’s face went red. “Victor—”

Yurio grabbed his backpack. “If you two start kissing, I’m leaving. And I’m not coming back.”

Victor leaned toward Yuuri. “But he said ‘start.’ We could—”

“No,” Yurio snapped instantly. “I said IF.”

Yuuri coughed into his fist. “Victor, please don’t antagonize him. He did take care of us today.”

Victor blinked. “He… what?”

Yurio froze.

Yuuri smiled gently. “He waited with me the whole time.”

Victor turned to Yurio.

Yurio looked like a cat caught doing something wholesome.

“I mean—whatever,” Yurio grumbled. “Someone had to keep the pig from fainting.”

Victor’s face softened. Warmed. Melted.

“Come here,” he said softly.

“No.”

Victor opened his arms.

“No.”

Victor wiggled his fingers.

“… fine,” Yurio muttered, stomping over.

Victor hugged him. Yurio stiffened like contact was a federal offense.

Yuuri giggled.

Victor squeezed him gently. “Thank you, Yurio.”

Yurio mumbled into his jacket, “Don’t make it weird.”

Too late.

Victor wiped a suspicious tear from his eye. “I’m too emotional right now.”

“We noticed,” Yurio said, stepping back.