Work Text:
The ambulance siren blared as it raced through the city, weaving through traffic at neck breaking speeds.
Yuuri thought he'd get whiplash from every turn, but the emergency medical workers seemed nonchalant.
How anyone could be so casual and unconcerned was beyond him. Not when the ambulance was carrying such precious cargo.
There was Viktor, lying on the stretcher, clutching his side and writhing in pain. He was being naturally uncooperative with the paramedics, who tried to fix an oxygen mask over his face; Yuuri could only hold his hand and try his best to calm him. He reassured himself that soon, they'd arrive at the hospital and find out what was causing his husband so much pain.
When the incident happened, Viktor had been mid-quadruple toe loop. The execution was flawless, but he collapsed before his feet could land, crying out from pain and gripping his abdomen. Yuuri made haste across the ice, whilst Yakov called an ambulance. Then, the entire group made their way to the hospital, with Yuuri and Viktor in the ambulance and Yakov following behind them.
Viktor was in far too much pain to tell anyone what was wrong.
So, Yuuri clutched his hand and silently prayed for his husband's safety.
~~~~~~
Appendicitis.
Yuuri had breathed an enormous sigh of relief, whilst Yakov laughed at Viktor's melodramatic display. Of course, he'd no doubt an inflamed appendix hurt like hell and was no laughing matter, but leave it to Viktor to make them think he was knocking on death's door.
Now, they could only wait, with Yuuri growing more and more frantic by the minute and Yakov seeming as stoic as ever.
"Do you think he's ok?" Asked Yuuri, with an edge of panic in his voice.
Yakov nodded.
"Yes, I'm sure Vitya will be back to being his obnoxious self very soon."
In reality, they'd only been sitting in the waiting room for a couple of hours, but to Yuuri, it felt like an eternity. Yakov had left to find a vending machine, and had returned with two cups of stale coffee; Yuuri's cup sat untouched, whilst Yakov struggled not to grimace at the taste.
How could anyone sip at coffee and flip through a magazine right now? How could he do anything other than panic?
Yuuri's only outlet was to glance between a clock on the wall and a set of double doors, waiting to hear something, ANYTHING, about Viktor's condition. The uncertainty was agonizing.
It took everything in his power to not call his entire list of contacts, pleading with everyone he knew for reassurance.
"Yuuri," said Yakov, making him jump. "Don't fret. He will be ok."
Although his tone was stern and emotionless, Yuuri found his words to be somewhat comforting.
"I think so too, but I just can't stand not knowing! What am I supposed to do right now?"
Yuuri let his head fall down into his folded arms, which rested on the arm of an uncomfortable hospital chair. He was quite sure that hospitals made people wait, not out of necessity, but as a form of slow torture.
"Nikiforov?"
'FINALLY,' Yuuri shouted in his own head, then leapt up to greet the nurse who'd come to find them.
He was a fairly young looking man, clad in pale blue scrubs, with a cartoon-decorated surgical cap. When he spoke, his voice at first came in Russian, but he switched to English after noting Yuuri's confusion.
"My name is Nikolai," said the nurse, his accent thick and English not entirely fluent. "Viktor came out surgery just fine. I am his nurse. He's in recovery, sleeping off anesthesia. You can see if you like. Are you relatives?"
"I'm his...well, friend," said Yuuri. He remembered last minute that his marriage wasn't recognized in Viktor's home country, but the nurse nodded, seemingly understanding.
"I'm his adoptive father," said Yakov. It wasn't entirely untrue.
"Very well. Did you bring clothes?"
The two men looked at each other, as neither of them had even thought to bring a spare change of clothes. They'd been so sure Viktor would be admitted into the hospital, for at least a couple of nights.
"S'ok," said the nurse, waving them off. "You bring clothes later. He spends few nights in hospital, til his fever breaks. Then he'll go home."
"Ok. Can we go and see him?"
"Sure."
~~~~~~
The nurse had said he'd be confused.
Confused was a bit of an understatement.
While Yakov left to pack Viktor's bag, Yuuri stayed and sat by his bed, waiting for him to wake up. Viktor's skin was pale and clammy looking, but his cheeks were rosy; he was running a fairly high fever, still. From his arm protruded a I.V line, connected to a bag of fluids; the nurse had explained Viktor's morphine dose and antibiotics. He was connected to machinery by at least three tubes, including his catheter, so he'd be completely bed bound for the first day or so. He'd doubtfully be happy about it.
After several hours of sitting and waiting, and long after Yakov had returned, Viktor began to stir. Yuuri gripped his hand and waited on the edge of his seat.
Viktor groaned and cracked open one bleary, glassy eye. He looked around the room, at the people in it, at the I.V taped to his forearm, and then to Yuuri.
"Wh's goin on?" He slurred, speech still effected by sleep and medication.
"It's ok, Viktor. You're in the hospital. You've had an operation, but everything's fine."
"What happened?" He asked, a bit clearer this time.
"Your appendix was inflamed and nearly ruptured. You had an appendectomy, but it was uncomplicated, so you're doing fine." Yuuri tried to maintain a soft, soothing voice, as to not startle him.
"Can't feel anything."
"That's ok. You've had a lot of pain medication, see? There's a I.V here, and- "
"Не могу почувствовать мой член."
From behind him, Yuuri heard Yakov choke; he turned around and saw the man struggling to contain his laughter.
"W-What did he say?" Yuuri asked hesitantly. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.
"Где мой член?!"
"Victor, you know my Russian isn't that great, can you just-"
"Where is my damn dick, Yuuri?! I can't feel it!"
Yuuri's face and ears burned red, whilst Yakov laughed louder than he had in a long time. Viktor was absolutely beside himself; since he was still mostly numb from anesthesia, it was no wonder he couldn't feel his bottom half. Still, Yuuri couldn't begin to know what to do.
Especially not when Viktor burst into an actual, full on crying fit.
"How will I ever pleasure you without it?! You'll leave me, won't you?"
Viktor stared up at him with wide, tear filled eyes; as ridiculous as he may have been, he was also endearing and Yuuri actually felt flattered for a moment. It was sweet that Viktor's first concern was losing his husband.
So, Yuuri lifted his hand and after much hesitancy, began to rub small circles on Viktor's back. The Russian skater was now sobbing. And not in a pretty way, either. He was ugly crying, with hiccups and sniffles and everything. It was almost heart breaking to Yuuri, but apparently Yakov thought differently, as he had to bite his lip to regain his composure.
"Vitya, stop," said Yakov. "You didn't lose it. I promise."
Viktor sniffled and looked up at his coach.
"Really?"
This time, Yuuri answered him.
"Yes. It's still there. And even if it wasn't, I'd never leave you."
Viktor turned to look at him with bloodshot, teary eyes; with as much devotion and love as he could convey, he grasped Yuuri's hands in his own and met his gaze.
"That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, moya lyubov. I love you with all my heart."
Yuuri smiled and placed a hand against Viktor's fevered cheek; the other man tried to do the same, but instead ended up smacking his lover across the face.
"Ow!" Yuuri cried out, rubbing the tender spot on his face. Thankfully, Viktor seemed to have not noticed.
Instead, he'd lifted his bed sheets and hospital gown, staring awe struck at what had never been lost in the first place.
He'd also noticed, for the first time, the even row of stitches across his abdomen.
"Wow," he said to himself. "Yakov, I'm just like you now!"
Of course, he was referring to his father figure's own scar, although Yakov had earned his after a bar fight had gone awry and someone had slashed his middle with a knife.
Viktor was positively giddy now, whilst Yuuri and Yakov were beginning to feel overwhelmed.
"Yuuri, I have a boner!"
It was going to be a long, long night.
~~~~~
Although he was still loopy from pain killers, Viktor was a bit more composed the next morning. He was also healing remarkably well, so he was allowed to go home a day early.
While Yuuri pulled the car around, Yakov helped him pack his things and ready to leave.
Viktor had woken some time in the night, finally feeling pain through the haze of anesthesia. Yuuri had shown him how to press his morphine button, and he'd taken full advantage of it. While he wasn't as out of it as he'd been after surgery, the morphine left him with jelly legs and vertigo. So, after throwing up what little food he'd eaten for lunch, it was time to get dressed and Yakov was there to help.
Begrudgingly, of course.
He untied the strings from Viktor's hospital gown, tossed it in a laundry basket and gathered a clean set of clothes. He maneuvered legs into boxer briefs first, then sweat pants, then pulled a t shirt over Viktor's head. Then, once he was dressed and ready, Yakov helped Viktor to stand and get seated into his wheelchair, grumbling the entire time about helpless idiots and such.
As he was pushed down the hallway, Viktor waved 'goodbye' to all of the hospital staff. Of course, they'd all known him first from his fame, and then subsequently bonded with him for his charming personality. Yakov rolled his eyes as Viktor blew kisses to all of the nurses, men and women alike.
Finally, they'd reached the parking lot, where Yuuri waited in the car. He hopped out to assist Yakov in getting Viktor into his seat, but the older man just shook his head and lifted his patient bridal style. Quicker and easier, he'd said.
Viktor had fallen asleep on the ride home, so Yakov had to pick him up once again and carry him into the house.
After Viktor was settled into bed, he made his leave; Yuuri bid him goodnight and readied himself for bed. Makkachin had been taken outside, the dishes were cleaned and he'd finally grabbed a shower he'd been needing for two days; finally, it was time for rest. So, he turned out the light and climbed into bed, settling in with his head on his husband's chest.
"Mmm," Viktor hummed under his breath. He was awake for the moment, so he reached up to thread his fingers through Yuuri's hair.
"How are you feeling?"
"Much better, now that you're snuggled up next to me," he said affectionately.
Yuuri smiled to himself and nuzzled against Viktor's collar bone. "Good, I'm glad."
As a second thought, just before dozing off, he said "I love you, Vicchan."
But he was met only with the sound of Viktor's deep, rumbling snores.
Yuuri sighed and closed his eyes once more.
"Good night, Vitya."