Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

          Can bones catch fire? Yuuri thinks so. When he wakes up that morning, sickness takes hold of him in a damming embrace and won’t let go. Yuuri isn’t sure what illness he has, but it’s probably the plague. His joints are sore. Not the delicious soreness from a rough practice yesterday. That brand of soreness is his favorite. It reminds him that he’s alive and that Viktor is here. No, this soreness is evil and unwelcome. He feels like his skin is being poked by needles when he tries to peel the blanket from his body, sitting up to get more leverage. The strength to do so isn’t quite there. His limbs tangle up in the vines of the fabric, and Yuuri ingloriously gives up the effort with a grunt. Falling back, he bumps his shoulder a bit too loudly on the wall near his pillow. Slow moments pass as he builds up the steam to try again. A soft knock on his door stops him.

          “You dying in there? I heard noises, and you looked dead last night at dinner.” Mari asks through the door. He hears a shuffle from the other side, and he knows she’s leaning on the wall next to the door. Her posture will be loose and casual, but she’ll be wearing a concerned frown. It’s a familiar gesture from their childhood. She’s always had an older sister’s sense that tells her when he’s not doing okay. He’s thankful for it.

          “You’d be right. Consider me seconds from death’s door.” Yuuri responds with a groan. Rolling onto his side takes all the energy he has left. Maybe  

          “Oh, poor baby,” Mari pouts with no sincerity. The doorknob clicks as Mari turns it. Her head pokes through to make eye contact. “You look awful.” She pushes the door open and steps into the room. He has a small window offering a little light, but it’s not quite enough to see clearly. She makes her way to the lamp on his desk, turns it on, and looks at him more closely. A displeased sound comes out of her mouth as her frown deepens. “You need to stay in bed. Let me go get you some tea.” Before Yuuri can argue, she is out of his room and off to tell their mom, probably. Once his mom knows, he’ll never be able to leave.

          He can’t afford to miss practice time on the ice with Victor. His guidance is crucial. His rest is not. Not when the Hot Springs on Ice competition is a little over a week away. No, it’s too soon to risk anything. Viktor had just come into Yuuri’s life to coach him. Viktor sought him out personally. There is no way he is letting the Russian Yuri take him back to their home country. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Viktor’s eyes on him now, but he can’t lose them now.

          With renewed resolve, he painfully manages to get out of his bed. It’s a slow process, but he finally makes it on his feet. Carefully, he begins stretching his toes and fingers. They’re stiff. He bends his knees and extends his arms to loosen everything up. No success. Sighing, he closes his mind to think. Despite the slight vertigo, he settles on the idea that he needs the extra boost that steam can give him. Hot springs can cure anything!

          He opens his eyes and makes for the door. Slowly, he peeks into the hallway. He’ll have to avoid Mari and his mother if he wants to get to the onsen and the Ice Castle without a fight. He returns to his room for a brief moment to grab his skate bag. In it should be a change of clothes and his gear. Everything he’ll need for this mission, so he doesn’t have to come back here and risk being seen.

          It’s a quick trip to the onsen. There doesn’t seem to be a soul around, which is good. Chatty patrons are just as bad. Likely to keep him in conversation for hours. Choosing his favorite pool, he steps into the hot spring water and feels his body shiver from the contact. It makes his teeth chatter involuntarily. After a few heartbeats, the heat sinks deep into his chest. It settles on his soul like a hug, and the shaking stops. Yuuri knows the warmth is a temporary fix, but at least it is soothing now. He hopes that this band-aid is enough to hide his symptoms from Yuri (what had Mari called him? Yurio?), who will surely tell Viktor immediately. Knowing Viktor, he will completely overreact, and they won’t practice again for who knows how long.

          His plan to not be seen before slipping off to the ice rink fails spectacularly. He leaves the water once he starts to feel lightheaded and fights to put his clothes on. He pads down hallways and past closed doors as quietly as he can. Almost out the door, he is stopped by Viktor, who can see him from where he sits at their table. After all of that hard work, the pitfall in his stealth mode is not eating breakfast. Hindsight being 20/20, he should have just left through the back door of the laundry room.

          “Yuuuuri!! Sit down and eat breakfast!” Viktor’s voice is beaming. His silver bangs hang messily over one eye in a distractingly attractive way that makes Yuuri’s heart flutter. It’s not fair that one man can be this beautiful. So effortlessly pleasant. Maybe he could stay for a few moments and soak up some of the sunshine that Viktor offers? Maybe that’s all that he needs to feel better. The plate of food in front of Viktor does look delicious, but his stomach has no desire for any of it. The smell of it even makes him a bit nauseous. Whatever bug this is needs to pass soon. Yuuri shakes his head at Viktor and gestures to the door, indicating that he’s going to leave now.

            “Yuuri.” Victor starts thoughtfully. He cocks his head to the side as if to analyze him. “You need to eat to have energy for the day. Are you feeling well?” Viktor asks quietly. His voice was soft. It was caring. It was tempting. He uncomfortably shuffles his feet under Viktor’s gaze. Even though Viktor has been staying here for a while, Yuuri still isn’t used to his childhood idol, crush, caring about him, or even talking to him. Not for the first time, the overwhelming pressure to live up to Victor’s estimations is crushing. He’s daunted by his desire to please the man in any way he can. If he can make up for the embarrassment he made of himself last season when he finally got to share the ice with Viktor, then maybe he’d stay close to him. At least for a little while longer.

          Makkachin takes this opportunity while the two are distracted to steal a piece of meat from Victor’s plate. The brown poodle prances happily to the other side of the room and chows down. Viktor barely spares the pup a glance. Instead, he takes a few steps closer to Yuuri, who begins to sweat. Yurio walks out just in time to serve as a buffer, much to Yuuri’s relief. He’s no help at all, which shouldn’t surprise him. One glance at Yuuri’s face has the young blonde muttering under his breath and glaring at him, “Sick crybaby.” So much for hiding it. Mari pops into view and crosses her arms as if to silently tell him. Maybe she told Yurio, and his face doesn’t betray how he felt? He did actually feel better after the dip in the baths, if only a tiny bit. Viktor looks closely at Yuuri’s face with a frown and goes to reach for it.

            “I’m just not very hungry. I’ll meet you at the Ice Palace, okay?” Yuuri responds quickly in panic. He flinches at Viktor’s incoming hand. The taller man frowns in disappointment. Yuuri just runs out the front door in response to that expression. He knows that his temperature is high. Viktor would have felt it. He would have stopped him. The run to the Ice Palace has never felt this long before. Any benefits he received from the springs are long gone. His lungs pound terribly, and regret swarms him. This shortness of breath is a feeling that he shouldn’t be experiencing now that he is in skating shape again. By the time he makes it into the lobby of the rink, he feels like he is melting away.

            “You look like you’re dying,” Yuuko says with concern in her voice. Great to have confirmation of my inner thoughts. His friend watches him approach with concern.

            “Thanks for that.” He grumbles as he fights to catch his breath. Yuuri makes it to the counter and puts his whole weight against it. She holds out an arm to stop him from getting up once he has recovered a more regulated lung pattern.

            “I’m sorry. I just mean you look really sick. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She questions as she puts the back of her hand to his forehead. He winces at the contact. “You’re burning up.” He flinches. Her hands feel like the ice he’s here to skate on.

            “I’m fine Yuuko. Don’t tell Viktor when he comes in. I really need to practice.” Yuuri pleads with her. She frowns but reluctantly nods in agreement. Yuuri sighs in relief and makes his way to the rink. Yuuko blocks his path with her body.

           “I think your health is more important than this skate off, and I know Viktor will agree,” Yuuko admonishes. She worries at her bottom lip, “Still, I know this is important to you. Please promise that you’ll be okay?” Yuuri sighs and nods. She squints at him, clearly unconvinced. After a few moments, she walks back to the counter. Yuuri walks on in triumph.

           The frosty air shouldn’t feel so nice on his skin, but his fever is enjoying it. He makes his way to the locker room to get ready. It’s a routine that should have only taken moments, but his diminished capacity makes it take fifteen. Wasted time! After lacing his skates in frustration, Yuuri makes his way onto the ice eagerly. He enjoys the gliding feeling he gets from it every time. It’s easy to lose himself to his inner rhythm. The song that plays within him. He moves silently around the ring. Skating figures, testing out a few spins. Warming up until it begins to make him nauseous. He stops at the side of the rink and leans his arms onto the boards. His head makes its way into his hands to ground him.

           “You look ridiculous. Just go home and sleep.” Yurio scoffs from behind him on the ice as he puts his blonde hair up in a ponytail. Yuuri hadn’t noticed him come into the rink. It must be from the pounding in his ears. He sighs and turns to face the boy.

           “You’d like that, huh? More practice time alone with Viktor.” Yuuri attempted to mimic the younger skater’s tone. He fails when a sudden coughing fit comes over him. “Maybe.” *cough* *cough* “Maybe you’ll convince him to go home after all.”

           “Whatever, Piggy.” The blonde sneers. He’s silent for a moment as he watches Yuuri closely, as though waiting for the coughing fit to be over. Making sure that he’s okay. No, that couldn’t be right. “He would drop everything to take care of you.” Yurio mocks him before skating to the middle of the ice. Yuuri’s heart froze.

           “What do you mean?” He asks the boy. Pretending not to hear, he just ignores Yuuri and begins warming up. A flash of silver hair catches Yuuri’s attention, but not before the owner of said hair places a soft hand to his forehead. He reached Yuuri’s side quicker than he expected, or maybe his reaction time was slowing down as the morning progressed.

            “Yuuri.” Victor tuts his tongue in disappointment, “I knew it.” He sighs and brushes his thumb on Yuuri’s feverish forehead. It’s gentle, as if Yuuri were a fragile doll. More heat crawls to his cheeks. He wants to run.

            “I need to practice,” Yuuri answers slowly. Viktor’s blue eyes admonish him. The urge to run away from the older man intensifies. He backs away from the wall and from Viktor’s hand quickly. Well, not as quickly as he probably could have yesterday when he was healthy, but definitely more quickly than moments ago during his warm-up. The speed makes him dizzy enough that he starts swaying and almost running into Yurio. Instead, he falls hard onto the ice. Like a rock being dropped from a tall building, flat on his back. When he opens his eyes, he swears that Yurio stands over him, worried. His look hardens when he realizes that Yuuri was looking at him. The threat in Yurio’s eyes convinces Yuuri that he imagined the concern after all. Maybe he knocked his head? That would be the cherry on the cake.

            “Go away,” Yurio growls after helping the older skater stand up and make his way over to the opening of the wall where Viktor stands.

           “I can walk on my own,” Yuuri says after declining the taller man’s hand. The blush on his cheeks is from his fever and nothing else.

            “Let me help you, Yuuri,” Victor says softly. He bends down to look Yuuri in the eyes and gives him a gentle smile. It isn’t filled with judgment or anger. Maybe it’s okay to rest today? Viktor says he wants to help. Yurio mumbles “Idiots” to himself and begins skating his routine. Yuuri attempts to ignore the handsome Russian man in front of him, but having Viktor plead with his eyes relentlessly, he has to give up.

             “Fine, I’ll go home.” He relents. Viktor smiled brightly in victory. The flutter in Yuuri’s chest sends him into another coughing fit. Brain fog settles in next. Energy leeching out of him every second. He’s not going to make it home. Can he sleep at the rink? The next thing Yuuri is conscious of is Viktor helping him out of his skates. He had guided him to a bench in no time at all. His hands are working quickly, but gently. Lightly, he gives Yuuri’s calves a few massaging squeezes, which causes a sigh to leave Yuuri’s lips.

              “Up, Up. It’s time to go home.” Viktor smiles brightly at him, holding out his hands for the younger skater to hold. Yuuri blushes deeper, but thankfully, he doesn’t really register much else on the trip back. He’s sure he makes more embarrassing faces that will live in infamy, but he doesn’t really care. The pounding in his head demands more attention. Once through the front door, Viktor carefully picks him up because he was swaying. He doesn’t have the energy to fight him off, and if he’s honest, it’s really nice to feel Viktor hold him. It was a short walk to Yuuri’s room.

              “You don’t have to stay.” He says to Viktor as he lays him down on his bed. He watches the man debate silently as to whether the blanket should be used. He casts it aside. Yuuri’s whole body is sweating now. It’s hard to keep his eyes open because everything around him keeps spinning.

              “That’s ridiculous. I’m here for you.” Viktor whispers to him as he places his hand on the Japanese man’s forehead again. The frown is apparent on his face.

               “I didn’t want to-” Yuuri starts before coughing roughly, “I didn’t want to disappoint you by missing practice. You came all the way here.” He whispers the end of the sentence, barely able to keep his eyes open. Sleep was calling to him like a siren now. Mari had been ready with medicine and tea for them when they came home. It seemed to be taking effect now. Some of the pain was dissipating, but only by a small margin.

                “You could never disappoint me, Yuuri.” The silver-haired man whispers. As he drifts off to sleep, he swears he feels a kiss touch his forehead. It must be a trick of his mind. Vivid dreams chase him. They’re disorienting. They’re wonderful. They’re file with ice, laughter and Viktor.

                When Yuuri opens his eyes, he doesn’t recognize where he is. Pain fills his chest, and his whole body aches worse than before. The blanket cocoon isn’t helping. Attempting to roll over and free himself, he manages to collide with the furry body of a brown poodle.

                “V-Vicc-ha-an?” Yuuri tries to croak out, but his throat burns. Tears sting his eyes when he realizes that this dog is much too big to be Vicchan. He can’t stop crying when the dog rolls over and begins licking his face, and he doesn’t notice the sound of a door opening and shutting quickly.

               “Yuuri? Yuuri, why are you crying… and why are you in here? I thought you were being quarantined in your room?” The voice is vaguely familiar. Yuuri turns his head and sees a messy mop of blonde hair. Oh, it's Yurio. The look on the young Russian’s face was full of concern, and that only made Yuuri cry more. It just felt wrong.

              “Vicc-han.” Yuri manages to croak out between sobs. He hears an exasperated huff.

              “Vicchan? Uh… Vicc- Do you mean Viktor? You want Viktor?” Yurio asks anxiously. Yuuri nods, manages to free an arm from the blanket prison, and gestures to the poodle. Yes, he wants Viktor, his toy poodle. Yurio just gives him a confused look and leaves.

              Yuuri’s head begins spinning. This room doesn’t look like his own. So, he buries his head under a pillow. This definitely doesn’t smell like his pillow. His breathing constricts with the burst of energy, but he manages to throw off the blanket and roll off the bed onto the floor. Pain pierced the side of his arm and leg that were crushed, but the floor was so cool that Yuuri couldn’t care less. He dozes off again.

            “Why is he in your room?” The familiar voice of his mom wakes him up some time later. Yuuri cracks open an eye and takes a peek at the door frame. Three figures crowded in it. Somehow, he had made it back on the bed without the blanket.

            “I don’t know. He’s been sleeping so heavily since yesterday. Maybe he has started sleepwalking. I went to give him more medicine this morning, and he was gone,” Viktor’s voice soothes Yuuri. It’s cool and pleasant, and he wants him to talk even more.

            “He is out of it. He was crying when I found him. He thought you were a poodle.” Yurio’s voice does the opposite. Yuuri groans loudly. The bed isn’t comfortable anymore. He makes the effort to roll over to the ground again, where it’s cold.

            “Yes, he was a poodle. Viktor or Vicchan, as we called him, was the name of our family dog. He passed away while Yuuri was competing last season.” His mother shares and stops when she hears Yuuri hit the ground, “Yuuri are you okay? Do you want anything to eat? Here you have to take this medicine.” She comes over to his side and puts a cool cloth on his forehead. She spoons awful-tasting medicine into his mouth slowly so he doesn’t cough it up.

            “Hurts all over. On fire.” Yuuri manages to say before he begins to doze off again. Arms scoop up Yuuri like he weighs nothing to pick him up from the ground. Before he reaches blissful dreams again, he hears soft conversation.

            “I will take care of him, don’t worry,” Viktor assures his mother. “Can you roll out a bedroll here? He clearly wants to be on the ground. Maybe it’s cooler.”

            “Yurio, dear, can you grab one from the closet over there?” His mother asks. Quick feet scuffle on the ground. “Viktor, you really don’t have to. You’re very busy, and I can take care of him. I’m sure this is just some virus that will pass soon.”

            “Let me help him, please?” Viktor pleads softly. “It’s what I came here for. I want to.”

            “Hmm, okay, dear. You’re a sweet boy. I’m glad he has you.” More footsteps. “Oh, Yurio, thank you! You can place that here. That’s it! Let’s go get some food, yeah?” The presences of Yurio and his mom leave the room. Viktor squeezes Yuuri closer to his body. Yuuri responds with a pleased sigh and snuggles ever so slightly closer. Slowly, arms lower him to the ground on a bedroll that was softer than the bare ground but cooler than the bed. There’s a presence that moves to lie down beside him, fingers in his hair.

            “Sweet Yuuri, I’m glad I have you.” Viktor breathes.

            Yuuri’s dreams are filled with warmth, kisses, and Viktor.

Chapter Text

              Yuuri wakes up feeling sticky with dried sweat. Clothes cling to his skin, and he desperately needs them off. His body is sore, but his mind is much clearer than it was before, which is a small relief. He hasn’t been that sick in a long, long time. The closest to that would probably have been the massive hangover he had after the Sochi finals. A different sickness, but still awful. Where could he have even caught this one? He’s usually so careful. The ice rink, maybe? It does have children regularly who take classes, they’re always sick with something, and they do touch everything. Yuuri begins to stretch his tired body to wake it up, but he quickly finds that he is held in place by two arms around his abdomen. They’re strong, pale arms, and after a nervous inspection… Viktor’s arms? His heartbeat increases rapidly as the realization hits him. A constricting feeling encourages a cough to leave his throat. One that he can’t stop, but he does turn his head away from Viktor’s face. Slowly, the body rouses next to him. Arms reflexively tightening. A thumb rubbing on his stomach. This sends heat to his ears in embarrassment. What in the hell is even happening right now? Did Yuuri actually die like he feared? What is he doing on the damn floor?

            “Yuuuuri, go back to sleep,” Viktor mumbles as he buries his head into the crook between Yuuri’s arm and his chest. This makes him flinch in surprise. A self-conscious bitterness finds its way into his mind. He must smell awful after sweating so much.

            “Um, Viktor. Why are you hugging me? You shouldn’t be so close.” Yuuri lets the words fly from his tongue, but doesn’t think about how they sound like a demand for Viktor to stay away. Almost like he didn’t want him. From the tension that appears in Viktor’s body, he hears it.

            “I’m sorry. I overstepped. Of course, you don’t want me touching you, I knew that.” Viktor moves to dislodge his limbs. Yuuri doesn’t know what courage comes over him or where he finds the strength, but he takes his arm that Viktor had been resting on and tightens it so that his hand squeezes his ribs. The silver-haired man lets out a surprised gasp, and his eyes widen. His other arm reaches over so that his hand rests on Viktor’s lower back, urging him to stay. Maybe even to move closer.

            “No, I do.” Yuuri cringes at the truth that leaves his lips, but chooses to continue anyway, “I just meant that I’m sick. If you’re this close, you’ll get sick too… And I sm-” Yuuri’s bravery has its limits, and he stops talking immediately. Viktor’s eyes widen and then soften. It’s a wonderful display of his long eyelashes. Every blink sends them dancing, and Yuuri promptly forgets to be shy about their positions again.

            “You what?” Viktor asks. He doesn’t respond to Yuuri’s hands pulling him back to his side, but he doesn’t continue his retreat.

            “I’m sick and you’re going to get sick if you stay right here,” Yuuri replies, dreamily using Viktor’s eyelashes as a buffer to the real question he was asking.

            “No, I heard that, the other thing,” Viktor replies with a poorly disguised giddiness. Yuuri goes red. Is he really going to make him say it? How cruel.

            “I smell.” Yuuri sighs and closes his eyes, and waits for the laughter to come, and then Viktor’s disgust. The laughter does come, but it’s different from what he imagines. He peeks at the other man and is rewarded with a wetness forming on those beautiful lashes. It changes their color slightly. They cling together as Viktor shuts them tightly in a fit of giggles. Redness warms Yuuri’s ears.

            “Yuuri, you don’t smell.” Viktor pauses as if thinking about it. “Well, maybe you do a little. I don’t mind.” He snuggles closer and his arms wind further around his body. He can feel all of the hard-earned muscles in his back. A sense of bliss washes over him. “But that’s not what I was asking about. What did you say at the beginning?” Was this a test? Yuuri feels like he’s going to fail if so.

            “That I want you to touch me?” Yuuri asks and Viktor nods brightly, eyes softening in an ethereal way. As if he’s swimming in the essence of Yuuri. It’s a look that makes him feel incredibly vulnerable, but also known. Maybe even accepted. Perhaps this was a test that Yuuri could pass after all. “Oh, I had thought that was obvious.” Yuuri sighs sheepishly. Viktor snorts as he laughs in surprise at this statement.

            “You’re always stepping away from my touch. Always walking away from me. It wasn’t obvious to me.” He tells him softly and rests his head back into the crook of his arm so as not to look at him anymore. That makes it easier for Yuuri to process his feelings openly. His face must look like a mixture of confusion and excitement.

            “Viktor… I’m anxious all of the time. Incredibly anxious. Debilitatingly so sometimes.” He says slowly. “Sometimes touch is so overwhelming to me. Other times, though, I convince myself that you’re pitying me. Maybe that’s just how you are. Maybe it’s condescension since I’ve been a fan of you’re so long. I’ve admired you from afar my entire career, longer than that.” Yuuri bites his lip and waits for Viktor to respond. A soft hand rests on Yuuri’s cheek, and Yuuri leans into the touch.

            “Sweet Yuuri. I want to touch you. All the time.” A thumb rubs his cheek. “It’s not pity, it is just who I am, but mostly because I am a fan of yours, you could say. I have been since Sochi.”

            “Sochi?!” Yuuri exclaims, startling Viktor a little, “Viktor. I bombed at Sochi. My dog died, and I choked. Yuri kicked in the door while I fell apart in a bathroom stall. You didn’t even know me then. You asked me if I wanted a commemorative photo, and I couldn’t even respond to you because I was ashamed. How can you be a fan of me?” Viktor frowns at him and tenses again, but he doesn’t pull away this time.

            “You’re right that I didn’t know you when all of that happened, but Yuuri, don’t you remember meeting at the banquet after?” Viktor’s tone turns a bit desperate, and Yuuri grows concerned. What had he done at the banquet??

            “Viktor, I was depressed and forced to be there. I kept accepting flute after flute after flute of Champagne from Celestino and the waiters. I didn’t want to remember. I drank so I didn’t have to.” Yuuri furrows his eyebrows at Viktor’s shocked face.

            “That. That makes so much sense in hindsight.” Viktor sighs in defeat. “No wonder you never reached out to me afterwards. I thought you were ignoring me, or regretted it.”

            “Ignoring you? Viktor, I would never consciously ignore you.” He squeezes Viktor tighter, which seems to please the older man. “What happened at the banquet? Did I upset you?!” His voice rises in a panic. Viktor realizes what is happening and moves his hand to the back of Yuuri’s head, fingers nestling in the hair there. He gently pushes Yuuri’s head closer until their foreheads are touching and their breath mingles.

            “Hmm, I suggest that we talk about the banquet later. You need to rest, and I think that topic is going to excite you more than you can handle right now. You have not upset me. Things are clearer for me now.” Viktor moves to place a gentle kiss on Yuuri’s forehead, “In a good way. For the record.” He frowns a little at the touch. “Yuuri, you still have a fever. I need to get you more medicine.”

            “Viktor, what do you mean that things are clearer for you? What does that mean?” Yuuri asks. Now that Viktor mentions his fever, he is slowly becoming aware of his body again and how tired he is. The adrenaline from earlier is certainly wearing off.

            “It just means that I feel good about why I came here. I feel even better about staying. I like being right here with you, just like this.” Viktor hums pleasantly. It does feel nice to be like this with Viktor. Can it last?

            “Oh,” Yuuri replies, all the tension leaving his body. Eyes closed now, he can feel Viktor’s heartbeat match his own. It’s intimate in a way that makes him feel exposed, but he trusts Viktor in this moment.

            “Do you know what would make this moment better?” Viktor asks lightly, eyes dancing. Yuuri smiles dreamily.

            “Hmm, what?”

            “If you’d let me go get your medicine so that you can get better.” Viktor teases. Yuuri, fighting tired eyes, tries to look at him and shakes his head.

            “No, stay here with me, please.” Yuuri whines. He’s growing too tired now to fight, though. He’ll have to let go soon. A loud groan of disgust sounds across the room, startling them both. The visitor pads into the room quietly like he owns it.

            “You both are disgusting. No one wants to see this,” Yurio complains loudly. Viktor untangles himself from Yuuri, much to his dismay, and stands up. Yuuri sits up to look at the young skater. Slowly, he observes that this is very much not his room. These are not Yuuri’s things… Are they Viktor’s? Is he in Viktor’s room? Was he in Viktor’s arms in VIKTOR NIKIFOROV’s room just now?

            “You are spying, little Yurio.” Viktor chided. Yuri was aghast, his expression grimacing instantly.

            “No. Mrs. Katsuki asked that I come up and check on things. She sent more medicine. You’re the one canoodling with a pathetic, sick man for all to see. Look at him.” Yurio gestures at him with poorly disguised pity. Yuuri can’t disagree, he does ultimately feel like shit. Viktor frowns and begins shooing him out the door.

            “It’s time for you to go if you’re going to talk like that right now. Out. Out.” Viktor is making motions that Yurio is promptly ignoring. Instead, he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, not exactly at Yuuri’s side, but not, not there either.

            “No, I was told to check on things. I’m doing that. Then I’ll be more than happy to leave you two and whatever this is.” He petulantly crosses his arms and sets his jaw. Yuuri smiles fondly at the younger skater. Things are a little hazy, but he remembers vaguely that Yuri had been concerned. Maybe even scared in the ice rink.

            “I’m feeling better, Yuri. Thank you for caring.” He says through a yawn and rests his head on the bed. Yuri glances at him and a small smile ghosts his lips before turning his head sharply away

            “Yeah, whatever,” Yurio grumbles.

            “Viktor says I still have a fever, but you can tell Mom that I’m just feeling tired and sore now. I don’t feel the brain fog and aches that I did before.” Yuuri shares with him. The other Yuri nods at the information.

            “That’s good,” Yurio admits. “You’ve been on and off sleeping since the day before yesterday.” He picks at the drawstring of his hood.

            “Phew, that’s a lot of missed practice time.” Yuuri sighs with regret. He should have pushed through. Surely if he had just stayed at the rink, he could have gotten better.

            “Not dying is more important than practice. Don’t do that again, Piggy.” Yurio bites at him. He shoves a bottle and spoon in his direction before standing up abruptly to leave. “Take some medicine. Go back to sleep.” He stomps off.

            “You can shut the door, Yura!” Viktor yells after him in Russian. Yuuri doesn’t understand it, but he can tell Viktor isn’t that mad. Yuri slams the door as best as he can and yells something else in Russian back at him in retaliation. It does not sound flattering at all. Viktor sighs and returns to where Yuuri was sitting on the ground.

            “Can I convince you to take this medicine and then lie in bed? I don’t think my back can spend another night on the floor.” Viktor smiles bashfully. He makes a point to stretch his back to show that he is hurting.

            “Mmm, I’ll take the medicine, but do you want me to go back to my room?” Yuuri asks insecurely. He didn’t realize earlier that this is where they were. A new vulnerability blooms in his chest. After the unexpected intimacy of their embrace earlier, he isn’t sure what it all means for them.

            “Oh, is that what you want? I can help you if so. It’s just-” Viktor rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I just hoped that maybe you wanted to stay. That you’d let me take care of you.”

            “Oh, well, okay. Yeah, I can do that.” Yuuri blushes as he grabs the medicine bottle. Struggling with the cap, Viktor takes it from him instead. Yuuri’s chest swells in the adoration that he’s been slowly allowing himself to feel today.

            “Good. You did wander your way in here yourself after all.” He teases the younger man by tugging on his nose. Yuuri pulls his face away quickly when the words settle on his ears

            “I what?!”

            “Mmhmm, I think your subconscious might be a little obsessed with me.” Viktor teases again. Yuuri turns crimson and buries his head into the bed. Being sick is the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

            “My main conscious is too.” He mumbles. It seems that they’re starting to put everything on the table, so there isn’t any point in stopping.

            “Is that so? I don’t mind.” Viktor shrugs casually like it was obvious.

            “Why not? Shouldn’t you just see me as a crazy fan? At the least, don’t you feel like I’m a worse version of you? I know this is my anxiety talking, but I really don’t understand why you’d be here for me.”

            “Yuuri. How did you feel about me when you were young? How do you feel about me now? Be honest.”

            “I-I” He has a difficult time continuing; This is the worst conversation. “I’m so embarrassed.” Viktor smiles supportively, encouraging Yuuri to drink the medicine he had poured into the spoon, and moves to sit next to Yuuri again. Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s middle and rests his head against him. He is silent, so it is clear he wants Yuuri to keep talking. Yuuri sighs, “Okay. When I first saw you skating, I was really young. I felt such great admiration. I was inspired; you were my muse. I wanted to be just like you. In skating and life. I even named my puppy after you. Typical fan behavior.” He says it with bitterness.

            “You saw me as perfect.” Viktor surmises. His tone makes it clear he disagrees. Yuuri nods. “So, you wanted to be like me, when did that change? How do you feel now?”

            “Probably around the time I was transitioning to the senior division, maybe a little later. I began to feel more… myself. I started to win medals. I didn’t feel like I deserved them, of course, my anxiety holds me back all the time, but I worked hard for them. They were mine. I wanted success more than ever before. I wanted to be just as good as you, better than you are sometimes. I – I started to think about you differently.” Yuuri blushes and hides his face again. “I wanted to compete with you so that we could stand next to each other on the podium. Maybe I might get gold. Maybe you would smile at me with pride. I wanted you to see me…. I wanted you to like me like I like you. I wanted you.”

            Viktor is quiet for a moment, but he feels his smile against his skin. Yuuri’s embarrassment begins to take off, but his sleepiness keeps it from overwhelming him. Thank goodness for the little things, he guesses. If his eyes weren’t tired, he would roll them.

            “So, there is a world in your sweet, anxious brain where you feel like you can beat me on the ice?” Viktor asks, thoroughly pleased. Yuuri tenses until he realizes that Viktor isn’t making fun of him. He’s going to have to work hard at getting over that. Old habits die hard.

            “Yes, it sounds so silly. I know.”

            “You like me now, and you want me to like you back. So, that means you want to be with me.” Viktor offers again, like he is asking Yuuri to understand something clear to him. Well, it isn’t clear to Yuuri.

            “Viktor, you’re going to have to spell out what you mean. I’m tired and my brain isn’t on your wavelength on the best of days.” Yuuri sighs and leans into his coach.

            “I’m sorry, Yuuri. Come on, get into bed. I’ll be clearer.” Viktor says quietly. Slowly, he stands up. He helps Yuuri take the few steps needed to make it up and into the bed. Gently, he pulls the blanket over him. All the while, he finds different ways to affectionately touch Yuuri. Faintly, he allows himself to fantasize that this is what being loved feels like. Not familial or platonic love like he has with his family or Phichit. He wants this to be the romantic, soul-altering kind, even if it’s only for a little while. Can he have that? Can he have Viktor for a tiny bit?

            “Yuuri, if you were just a fan of mine, a crazed fan, you wouldn’t see me as a person. You wouldn’t even dream of bettering me on the ice.” He kisses Yuuri’s forehead and settles down into the plush bed. He pulls Yuuri into his arms in a position that is a mirror of the one on the floor. “I have felt that before. It makes me feel awful, like nothing. You said that as a kid, you wanted to be me. As an adult, you want to be with me. It’s different. Can’t you feel that it’s different?” He continues after Yuuri nods. “The fact that you want to be better than me, which I know you can be, means you don’t think I’m perfect or infallible. Sometimes your feelings for me blind you, you get a little “obsessed” as you call it, but you see me as a human with feelings and flaws anyway. It thrills me, Yuuri. It makes me feel things that I haven’t felt in years. I want to be seen. Wholly and truly. I want to be seen by you specifically.”

            “Oh,” Yuuri answers lamely. Too many thoughts crowd his mind at once. A powerful yawn takes over as the medicine kicks in. His eyes begin drooping whether he wants them or not. He snuggles closer to Viktor, allowing himself to accept a fraction of what he’s been dreaming of for years.

            “Go to sleep, my Yuuri. I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Viktor sighs affectionately. He squeezes Yuuri as if he can’t get close enough to him. Maybe he also wants more from this.

            “You’ll tell me how you feel in the morning? You tell me about the banquet?” Yuuri begs with the last of his energy. Faint memories of dancing with Viktor in an intoxicated stupor tug at the back of his mind. No, those can’t be memories. They must be one of his many dreams instead.

            “Yes, I will, sweetness. Go to sleep.” Viktor, growing bolder, places many kisses on Yuuri’s cheek and forehead. “I want to tell you everything, and then I hope you’ll accept me.”