Work Text:
The fuckin katsudon gives birth in the middle of the figure skating season, because Yuuri is an asshole , and Yuri is forced to give up a week of precious training time to lurk in their condo, and hit Victor when he flips his fucking shit, and help the katsudon get up from the couch, where he sinks down like the Titanic and says things like "hahaha at least it's not triplets Victor stop looking so green".
Victor spends a lot of time trying to figure out how to get his head on the katsudon's lap to talk to his unholy spawn, and Yuri spends a lot of time calling him a fuckhead.
When the katsudon goes into labor, Victor is predictably useless: he stands around holding a sock in one hand and his phone in the other, while the katsudon calmly gets a clean pair of pants and directs Yuri to the hospital bag. It's possible Yuri's hands are shaking, but he would die rather than admit it.
Yuri calls an Uber to the hospital, because the thought of Victor driving is more terrifying than even the katsudon being in labor.
When they get to the hospital, Victor has recovered enough to post about it on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and Snapchat, and the katsudon doesn't seem very sorry about kicking him out until he's settled into the hospital room, and Victor has bought him two dozen red roses at an outrageous hospital gift shop markup and slunk in to kiss his forehead in apology.
Yuri would feel more smug about being allowed in the room even before Victor, but every time the katsudon's face goes white with pain, he feels helpless conflicting urges to punch the hell out of whatever's causing katsudon the pain, or a nurse, and putting his arms around him and making soothing noises.
How the fuck did Victor deal with this for nine months?
The nurse kicks him out after Victor gets back, and Yuri spends twelve agonizing hours in the waiting room, and texting Otabek that he never wants kids.
I want one of each, texts back Otabek. Maybe a blonde girl and a dark haired boy?
UGH, is Yuri's point, staring at the text and imagining a tiny princess staring at him with a deadpan expression, and a little dark haired boy flipping his hair and scowling.
UGH.
Gradually, the waiting room fills up with the creme de la creme of Russia's skaters. Georgi brings a giant teddy bear and a look of constipated longing. Yakov looks like he's going to have another fucking heart attack. Lilia just looks cold and composed and Yuri can tell she's going to die if the katsudon and Victor don't produce a tiny ballet dancer for her.
It's two am, and everybody but Yuri has fallen asleep or gone home when Victor comes in. "Yuri," he whispers, and Yuri gets up and follows him, heart pounding viciously hard, into the hospital room, where Yuuri is lying, hair damp, and with black circles under his eyes, with a little thing cuddled up to his bare chest.
"Do you want to hold her?" says Yuuri, exhausted, glowing.
Yuri reaches out. The little warm thing, in its bundle of blankets, shifts and makes a sound as Yuri adjusts his grip. It's so little. It looks too soft and sweet to have been made by Victor Nikiforov. It's beautiful.
Yuri loves her so much it feels like he's being clawed open.
"What are you going to name her?" he says finally. He's going to kill anybody who looks at her funny. He's going to be the one who teaches her how to throw a punch. He just really really loves her already.
"Why don't you think of something?" says Yuuri.