Chapter Text
He had messed up again.
With a groan Yuuri let his forehead rest against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. Well, it had been ok, until he finished. He hadn't missed a jump and his step sequences had been as accurate as ever. He had made a few minor mistakes but as a whole he had actually been happy with his performance.
Only as the cheers of the crowd had washed over his head his stomach had started to churn and before he had been able to collect himself, he had started heaving and that was how Katsuki Yuuri had thrown up all over the ice after finishing his second Grand Prix final.
Of course he had made a dash for the toilet, dodging Victor as he went. He probably needed new skates by now for he had not bothered to put on the protectors. The thought somehow pained him, but the alternative had been to also throw up on his coach.
Some people had called his name, oblivious to how he was acting. No, he wouldn't smile for them, couldn't smile for them.
This was weird. Right before starting he had felt completely normal, except for the ever present anxiety.
Now someone had to wipe his vomit of the ice. And everyone was watching. He had just thrown up in front of a thousand cameras and even more visitors from all over the world.
Currently he was lying on the floor of the bathroom, wallowing in self pity as he waited for the nausea to pass.
It felt like a déjà vu he thought. A bang against his very own toilet cubicle had sent him upright way to fast and now he was leaning heavily against the wall while he fumbled with the doorknob. His hands were shaking, but finally the door opened.
As expected the one who had almost kicked the door down had been Yurio. He looked a little grouchy, as always. His costume was covered by his usual training jacket.
“Oi, Katsudon, the last one finished and they will hold the ceremony soon so you should hurry. You don't want to disappoint your devoted coach, do you?”
He sounded as pissed as ever, but Yuuri couldn't help but notice a certain softness behind those words. Somehow the Russian must have grown fond of him.
“Can you walk?”
Yuuri nodded but found it quite hard to keep up with his rival. He kept stumbling over his own feet and wobbling quite a lot.
The blonde stopped and turned back to him. Wordlessly he draped Yuuris arm over his shoulder and slipped a hand around his waist to help him support his own weight.
“I'm only doing this for Victor”, he stated matter-of-factly. “He had to stay to hear your results.”
“Thank you!” The Japanese almost choked on his own words, but was interrupted immediately.
“Don't you dare throw up on me!”
In silence they made their way back to the rink. He focused his eyes on the ground so no one could see his flushed face. This was so embarrassing!
Yurio almost dumped him on Victor who was waiting for them at the entrance.
“You take care of your boy-toy.”
Victor immediately started fussing over him. Asking a thousand questions and more. His voice was filled with worry. Yuuri felt a twinge of guilt.
“I'm fine. It's probably just a 24h bug”, He insisted.
It wasn't like he didn't enjoy the attention of his boyfriend, but everyone was watching. The newspapers would have so much to write about. And Japanese television would keep on playing those scenes in repeat, so everyone in the whole nation could see their very own gay figure skater been coddled by his boyfriend.
Victor rested the back of his hand against his forehead. He hummed.
“You don't feel like you've got a fever.”
“Like I said, I'll be fine by tomorrow.”
An announcement interrupted them. The English was flawless, as expected of the official announcer.
“We'll shortly begin with the ceremony...”
Yuuri turned to his coach. He had completely forgotten about his own results. The sudden realization made his knees go weak again. Victor strengthened the grip on his arm to keep him upright and shot him another worried look.
“How… did I… lose?”
Tears were filling up his eyes. He couldn't bear with losing a second time, letting down both his nation and of course- his boyfriend and coach. But to his surprise Victor flashed him his trademark smile.
“Why? You won, of course.”
This probably was the single most embarrassing moment in his whole career as a figure skater. He was standing on the podest, eyes puffy from crying, only hold up by the strong arms of his coach and lover after having thrown up all over the rink, fleeing before hearing his own results and now trying to answer the questions the reporters asked him.
“Katsuki-san!” “Yuuri!” “Mr. Nikiforov!”
The reporters were going crazy over them. Everyone tried to shove their microphone in Yuuris or Victors face first to get the first comment of this years Grand Prix winner.
Victor cut them all off with a simple gesture.
“As you probably have noticed, Yuuri isn't well enough to answer all of your questions. He will happily do so when he's feeling better, but for now please excuse us.”
This didn't stop them swarming the couple as they made their way to the exit.
He helped Yuuri off the ice and sat him down on a bench in the dressing room. He then knelt down to untie the laces of his skates and carefully slipped them off, caressing his feet as he did so.
“How are you feeling?”
Yuuri tried a smile. Another churn of his stomach made him freeze, but he didn't want Victor to worry even more.
“Very happy and a little dizzy…” He admitted.
Victor laughed. The sound was music to Yuuris ears and involuntary he leaned closer to his boyfriend. He received a pat on his head.
Then Victor slipped out of his jacket and draped it over his shoulders. The soft fabric smelled like him and Yuuri could help but draw a deep breath. Surprisingly it even helped with his nausea.
“You are sick enough, no need to catch a cold from hypothermia.”
He gave Yuuri a short peck on the head.
“Let's get you home and to bed.”
When he was finally lying down, Yuuri let out a small sigh. He was starting to feel a bit better. It certainly helped that he was in their comfortable bed in a nice hotel room.
He still was convinced that Victor had flirted with the hotel staff to get them a nicer room. And though he had felt a bit annoyed and jealous at the time, he now was glad that he had done so.
“Yuu-ri”, Victors voice drifted over. He had this certain tone that suggested that Yuuri had done something to offend him. He braced himself for the lecture.
And as suspected his boyfriend spent the next twenty minutes on lecturing him on why he couldn't sleep in his sweat-soaked clothes.
He left again and soon returned with a t-shirt and Yuuris favorite tracksuit.
“Come on, up you go.”
He pulled Yuuri into a hug and helped him sit up in bed. Yuuri was certain that he would have been able to sit up by himself, but he did like being pampered.
Victors skilled fingers found the zipper of his costume and placing butterfly kisses down his spine he carefully pulled it open. The Japanese shivered a bit against the cold air. And maybe a bit out of anticipation.
But instead Victor just slipped the t-shirt over his head.
Yuuri gave off a small whine that made Victor laugh.
“I would also love to, but right now your body is not in the right condition.”
Yuuri slumped against his chest in defeat.
He did feel tired, but now was the first time in ages that they had some privacy and he just longed for his boyfriend (and of course- certain parts of said boyfriend).
“Do you think you can stomach anything?” Victor asked while watching his lover carefully. He still looked a bit too pale for his likings.
Yuuri thought about it a bit. “Maybe… some soup?” He sounded uncertain.
This was bad, Victor thought. He would have expected him to ask for Katsudon or at least something with some more calories. Yuuri acted as if he was all fine now, but this gave him away.
“I'll see what I can find… try to sleep some.”
Sleeping proved more difficult than anticipated. While he was lying in bed, surrounded by the dim light off the kitchen and the noises of Victor trying to make something edible, he found himself thinking about the day.
Of course everything was shadowed by his involuntary display of his breakfast, but still. He had won the Grand Prix! Victors promise had been fulfilled. He had actually won!
A grin stretched over his face and he had to keep himself from giggling. Katsuki Yuuri, a Grand Prix winner!
But what was he going to do now. What would Victor do?
He was quite certain that he wouldn't leave him, after all they were lovers. But still.
What if he wasn't the one to surprise him anymore? What if Victor grew bored of him? Would he want to go back to Russia? And would he want Yuuri to come?
The questions made his head hurt and a strangled sob escaped him.
The noises from the kitchen stopped dead tracks. He heard footsteps. Yuuri had buried his face in the blanket.
Warm hands encircled his and slowly pried them away from his face.
He was met with an overly worried Victor.
“Yuuri? Are you feeling worse?”
He placed a hand on his cheek and froze to the wetness he found there.
“Are you crying? Hey, Yuuri! What's wrong?”
Yuuri couldn't answer. Tears were clouding his view and it became difficult to breath. He was pathetic! He could understand why Victor would want to get rid of him.
Slowly Victor started rubbing circles on his back.
“You have to tell me, when it gets worse!” His voice was soft.
Yuuri took a deep breath. “Don't ever leave me!” It sounded desperate. He cringed at his own neediness.
The sound of Victors laughter was like music to his ears. “Why would I? After all…” He kissed his forehead. “I…” He kissed his cheek. “Do…” He kissed his nose. “Love you.” He kissed his fingers. “A lot.” He finished with a kiss on his lips.
Then all of a sudden the warmth of his boyfriend was gone, leaving Yuuri shivering.
“I'm just gonna finish your soup”, came the call from the kitchen.
Yuuri closed his eyes and smiled.
He woke in the middle of the night. A common warmth was pressed against his back and he could feel Victors breath in his neck. It sent shivers of joy down his spine.
If he could decide, they would stay this way forever.