Chapter Text
It took a lot to convince Yuuri that Victor was fit to leave the hospital.
Fit was a stretch, Yuuri thought, but he conceded in the end. When he was able to contort Victor through most of his stretches without more than a wince, and Victor could pantomime a Biellman without crying, Yuuri gave in. He helped Victor get dressed much later than they had hoped, pulling his own sweatshirt over Victor’s head to the tune of little Yuri calling him insane.
“This is crazy, right? We all know this is crazy? Beka, this is crazy.” Yuri was pacing the length of the hospital room, tugging on his blond braids.
“How would you feel, if it was your last time?” Otabek stood, arms crossed, near the door, as if he was guarding them all. He was a quiet presence, and thankfully, he calmed Yuri in a way Yuuri had never witnessed.
“But he almost died!” Yuri stomped his cheetah-printed foot childishly.
“But he didn’t,” Yuuri spoke firmly. “This is his choice, and I hope you never have your choice taken away from you.”
Effectively shut down, Yuri floundered for a moment before slumping in the chair beside Otabek. Yuuri was grateful they were there. He couldn’t say no to Victor, not now, but at least someone else was able to openly ask Victor to think before deciding to do this.
Yuuri meant what he said. He wanted to honor Victor’s decisions. He didn’t necessarily agree, and he sure as hell was anxious about it. But he was going to support him. And Victor had already sworn up and down that he told Yakov to pull him out of the exhibition.
So, it was one skate. His nerves could handle one skate. And this time, he wouldn’t let Victor out of his sight.
“How are you feeling?” He looked up at Victor, kneeling at his feet after tying Victor’s sneakers for him. Victor sat at the edge of the hospital bed stiffly, but he was smiling at Yuuri.
“Tired. Ready for a hot bath and a massage. Scared to skate.”
“You have nothing to be afraid of,” Yuuri insisted, rubbing his hands up Victor’s calves. “They are all in jail. No one is going to hurt you.”
“I know. It’s not them,” Victor shook his head. “What if they don’t like it? What if it’s not enough?”
The question came in a whisper.
“You are enough, idiot,” Yuri chirped from the side. “Be so serious.”
Victor laughed wetly, barely concealing the emotion threatening to leak out. Yuuri could see the cracks forming, wishing he had enough hands to staunch them all. Instead, he stood, catching Victor’s hands on the way up.
“Come on, Vitya,” Yuuri tugged Victor’s hands to stand him up. “Let’s go show them how enough you are.”
Victor insisted on walking out of the hospital, just in case of any sneaky reporters or other prying eyes, but Yuuri longed to carry him all the way home. The call of St Petersburg was strong in his veins.
The hallways were busy with the morning’s rounds, but all the nurses in the VIP wing stopped to wish Victor luck. There must have been a lot of gossip around the nurse station. They may not have known anything about figure skating or of Victor Nikiforov before, but their well wishes were sincere and had nothing to do with patriotic pride or greed or selfishness. They simply wanted their patient to succeed. Yuuri found himself feeling incredibly grateful for their farewell, despite the amount of eyes on them as they left the hospital.
Pulling the hood over his recognizable head, Victor followed Yuuri out of the exit and into the waiting car. Yakov was scarily good at getting big SUVS to find whichever door they used at every building they left.
“Where now?” Victor asked, snuggling into Yuuri’s side as he slid in the car next.
“Our stuff is still at the conference hotel,” Yuuri replied, pulling the car door shut.
“No, it’s not, we moved it back to ours,” Yuri chimed in.
“Oh, perfect. They had a bigger bathtub,” Victor sighed in relief.
It was a bit unnerving, watching Victor accept everything happening with such a… positive reaction. He happily told the doctor he felt fine after passing out in the middle of the night. Barely complained when Yuuri asked him to prove he was capable of skating. Yuuri had a sneaking suspicion that the other shoe would drop– he just didn’t know when.
Yuuri held tight to his, whatever Victor was, and tried to quell his anxiety. The threshold for what it took to trigger an anxiety attack had risen to new heights. If he didn’t feel like throwing up, Yuuri might have felt proud of himself for keeping it together. He had come a long way in the past few months, thanks to his love for Victor. His idol had been a guiding light for years, but this was different. More real.
Whether he would make it out of this with his heart intact was another story for another day.
“Yuuuuri,” Victor whined, “Is there time for a nap?”
“Yes, you can get some sleep. Mr. Feltsman convinced the ISU to delay the men’s free skate.”
Victor gasped, lurching forward to clasp Yakov’s shoulder. “You do love me!”
“Bah! I just didn’t want to hear your whining for the rest of my life if you missed it,” Victor’s coach snorted, but Yuuri saw the way the old man held Victor’s hand in return.
Tugging Victor back to sit against him, Yuuri mirrored the smile on the other man’s face. Even if it was exaggerated, it was nice to see Victor’s smile. To see him do anything other than cry. Yuuri would die happy if he never saw Victor cry ever again.
“There are policemen and hotel security and ISU security,” Yuri spoke from the third row. “But there’s even more reporters.”
“They don’t know anything,” Yakov replied firmly. “They just want to see if Victor is coming back. The hospital doesn’t want anyone to find out they almost let a world class athlete get murdered. Leonard is going to have a field day.”
“Oh boy,” Yuuri mumbled, pressing a kiss into the side of Victor’s head. He didn’t like hearing the m word.
“I’m fine, Yuura,” Victor whispered, turning his head to look at Yuuri. “For now, everything is fine.”
“I should be the one telling you that.”
“So tell me.”
Yuuri took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Everything is fine.”
A slight pressure on his nose startled him to open his eyes. He faintly registered Yuri gagging in the backseat.
Victor had just kissed his nose.
Despite everything they had done together, the salacious acts Yuuri himself had instigated, a faint blush crawled forward onto Yuuri’s cheeks.
Yuuri slumped into the seat, staring out of the window while Victor grilled his coach on the day’s plans. What time they had to meet, whether he had to go to the banquet if he was no longer skating the exhibition. In the end, Yakov agreed to let him hide away if he swore to stay in his room and only if Yuuri swore to stay and watch him. Once the medal ceremony concluded, they were both heading to the airport.
It was an easy promise to make. Yuuri didn’t intend to let Victor shit without at least being on the other side of the bathroom door. With it unlocked. Something told Yuuri that Victor wouldn’t mind so much, not with the way Victor was clinging to his arm the entire ride back.
Little Yuri had been right. The crowd outside the hotel was bigger than Yuuri had ever seen. Otabek whistled as they pulled up to the curb– Yuuri was still getting used to his demeanor– and Yuri cursed, sitting forward in shock.
“Look, they have signs for you,” Yuuri murmured, pointing at the crowd forming behind the reporters. Fans, dozens of them, waving their posters at the car as they arrived. All of them were wishing Victor well, though one was wishing horrible things on Killian. Yuuri silently agreed, watching Victor’s reaction. From what was visible from the car window, none of the signs were about skating at all, save for a sign that said Victor was “number one in our hearts.”
Watering blue eyes stared out the window. Not for the first time, Yuuri wished he could read the other’s mind. Did he understand that the fans wouldn’t do this if they weren’t genuine? That no one camped out outside of a hotel for someone they didn’t love? Or did he just see the pressure of expectation?
When the car came to a stop, Victor quickly fumbled with the handle and let himself out. Yuuri followed behind quickly, aware that the crowds were roped off, but nervous regardless.
“Hello!” Victor waved with both hands, completely ignoring the reporters and walking straight for his fans. Yuuri bit back a smile as they started screeching with excitement. He was glad. Victor needed this.
Victor walked up the line, signing posters and photographs, posing for selfies. Something he used to do in the earlier stages of his career.
“Yuuri! Take a photo of us!” Victor found his place in front of the crowd, as close to the middle as he could get. Yuuri took out his phone as Victor opened his arms out wide, heart-shaped smile on full display. He captured at least a dozen photos. Young Yuuri would have passed out from the shock.
Looking around, Yuuri spotted Yakov waving impatiently. Yuri and Otabek stood in the doorway of the hotel, watching on.
“Vitya,” Yuuri walked over to where Victor stood, clutching a bouquet of flowers a fan had gifted. “Let’s go inside.”
“Oh, sorry! Thank you all for coming!” Victor bowed slightly, “I hope you’ll watch my Free today.”
The fans cheered, waving goodbye as the pair stepped away. Yuuri reached for Victor’s arm, but Victor dodged gracefully. Yuuri bit back his hurt, shoving his hand in his pocket.
“Can you send me that picture?” Victor grinned at Yuuri. “I want to post it.”
“Of course,” Yuuri smiled back, unable to help himself. Victor’s smile was a magnet for his own.
The reporters were clearly disgruntled at being ignored, but Victor led Yuuri straight past without stopping. Even Yakov looked confused, spluttering out something about Team Russia and a statement before following them inside. Victor rolled his eyes dramatically, looking at Yuuri exasperated.
“They’ve gotten enough statements by now, Coach.”
“Well, then stop giving us reasons to have to give them, Vitya,” Yakov sighed.
“Aye, aye,” Victor saluted. “Can I go to sleep now? Who has my room key?”
“I still have it,” Yuuri supplied, digging into his backpack.
“Excellent,” Victor snatched Yuuri up by the elbow once again, steering him towards the elevators.
“Don’t make me come looking for you, old man. Five o’clock. And don’t do anything gross.” Yuri crowded after them, pulling Otabek along.
“You’ll understand when you’re older, kotenok,” Victor teased, draping himself over Yuuri’s shoulders, crushing Yuuri’s backpack between them. On cue, Yuri gagged again, drawing a slight smirk from his boyfriend. Boyfriend? Yuuri didn’t know yet.
“We’ll see you all at five,” Yuuri confirmed over the sound of Yuri’s retching. “Food, sleep, stretching.”
“You forgot the sex,” Victor mock-whispered as the elevator dinged, arriving at their floor.
“Vitya!”
“Victor!”
Yuuri and Yakov exclaimed at the same time while Yuri shoved his way out of the elevator first, covering his ears.
Even knowing that Victor was just teasing the younger skater, Yuuri struggled to fight back the blush burning his cheeks. He bowed to the two left in the elevator before dragging Victor out with him. He turned in the opposite direction Yuri barrelled off in and relished in the sound of Victor’s quiet laughter, uncaring that it was partially at his own expense.
“He’s too easy to bait,” Victor snickered. Yuuri gave him a flat look, opening their room door.
“He’s just a kid. Surely, you got flustered about boys and sex when you were his age.”
“And I wish I had had someone to tease me about it too,” Victor stepped into the room, sighing. He gently placed his flowers on the entry table and toed his shoes off. “Can I take a bath?”
“Yes, but not too hot. We should be icing your bruises,” Yuuri frowned. “I’ll order room service. They should still have breakfast available, if you want eggs.”
“Surprise me,” Victor shrugged off his clothes on the way to the bathroom.
Yuuri turned away abruptly, before he could glimpse his naked body. He closed his eyes, counting down from fifteen to calm down, and then picked up the phone. He fumbled his way through ordering two breakfast platters and coffee, uncaring about the calories. As long as Victor ate as much as he could stomach, Yuuri would eat the scraps left behind if necessary.
He remembered at the last second to ask for a bucket of ice and extra towels, thankful that Victor had sprung for one of those suites that came with their own concierge line. The kind man on the phone assured Yuuri they would leave everything at their door with a knock, not to disturb their VIP guest.
The sound of the shower turning off and the bath filling made Yuuri’s intestines tie in a knot. The bathroom door was ajar, letting the steam filter in. And the sound of Victor groaning.
“Victor?” Yuuri bolted to the bathroom, shoving the door open. “What’s wrong?”
In the haze of the steam, Yuuri’s eyes fixated on the black and blue muddled on Victor’s skin, lining his ribs. Victor was slowly lowering into the bath, relaxing into the deep tub nearly overflowing with bubbles.
“It just feels really nice,” Victor turned to Yuuri, smiling sleepily. “Will you pass me a comb?”
Yuuri nodded wordlessly, the image of Victor’s beaten abdomen seared into his retinas. He ducked out of the bathroom to rifle through the luggage. He bit down on his lower lip, trying desperately to staunch the helpless feeling rising in his throat like a sob. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t the one that was hurting.
Jacket thrown over a chair, Yuuri marched back into the bathroom with a purpose. Comb in one hand, hair serum in the other, he sat on the side of the tub and began grooming Victor the way he had seen the man do himself time and time again.
Victor groaned again, leaning his wet head onto Yuuri’s denim clad thigh. Yuuri didn’t mind.
“I didn’t think my hair could get tangled this short, but here we are,” Victor mused.
“It’s had a rough night, give it some grace.”
“It should give me some grace and stop falling out. I’m not going to be a very handsome bald man.”
“You’ll be the most handsome bald man. And you’re not balding. Don’t be stupid.”
“You think I’m handsome?”
Yuuri paused, staring down at the top of Victor’s head. Victor was quiet. Serious. Tipping his head back until he could see those blue eyes, Yuuri scrunched his nose.
“You were my gay awakening.”
He let Victor’s chin go, feeling the heat creeping up his neck but trying to pay it no mind. He failed.
“God, I can’t believe I just admitted that.”
“Yuuuuuuri!” Victor trilled, turning abruptly to face Yuuri, splashing him with more water. “Tell me more!”
Yuuri sighed, staring at a face of open awe and joy. He would be damned if he ever took that look away.
“Well…”