Yurio groaned and pressed his head against the cold ceramic seat of the toilet. It was disgusting, he knew this, but he felt sick, and his head was beginning to hurt. He closed his eyes for a minute, drowning out the noise from the television outside the door, and focused on his breathing. His stomach churned violently and he thrust his head into the basin only bringing up vulgar tasting saliva. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be with his grandfather. But instead he was stuck in the Katsuki bathroom, in Japan, training for a useless competition, trying to win Viktor over like a trophy. He sighed loudly, pulling away from the toilet and leaned against the wall behind him. It was Viktor's fault he was sick, Nyet, it was that piglet's fault. If that damned Katsudon hadn't posted his skating video online then Viktor never would have left Russia. And Yurio wouldn't have to win that Geezer over like some prize.

Yurio pushed himself off the floor and walked over to the sink, splashing water on his face, hoping to wash away the sickness. He turned the faucet off and stared at himself in the mirror. His face was paler than usual, and he had bags under his eyes which made him look younger. There was a soft knock at the door and Yurio cringed as Katsudon's voice echoed through the wood, "Yurio? You okay?"

The teenager gripped the sink. He really didn't want to be here. Between the stress over his grandpa being sick, winning the competition, and the daily lectures he receives from Yakov, not to mention Viktor's harsh practices, Yurio wasn't surprised he felt sick. His stomach flipped again and he swallowed, turning the sink on once more to drown out the coughing. Viktor's practices weren't terrible, but they weren't easy. It definitely wasn't what Yurio had imagined when he agreed to compete against Yuuri.

Yurio shuddered, swallowing stiffly as Katsudon knocked again, "Yurio?"

"Ah! What the fuck do you want!" Yurio yelled, turning the sink off, and throwing open the door. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, feeling anger and frustration coursing through his body.

Yuuri stood there, fiddling with his hands, panic lacing his voice "I-I'm-"

Yurio sneezed, wiping his nose with the bottom of his shirt before glaring back up at Yuuri. "I'm sorry," Yuuri mumbled, taking in Yurio's shaking frame, and pale features. The kid looked sick, which wasn't surprising considering he started to seem off yesterday evening when they were stuck under the waterfall. But it wasn't until this morning when Viktor had stated there was something wrong with the boy, that Yuuri had begun to piece it together.

"Yurio, if you're not feeling well, I can-" Yuuri started, scoping the bathroom behind the teenager, looking for any inclination that the kid was sick.

"I don't need to be looked after, alright!" Yurio yelled, slamming his fist against the wall, "I'm not a child!" And yet you're acting like one, Yurio thought. Yuuri sighed before adjusting his glasses, "Okay, I was just trying to help."

Yurio pushed past Yuuri, slamming him into the wall behind him, "I don't need any help. Especially from you."

Yuuri turned the light off in the hall as Yurio plopped down on one of the couch cushions in the living room. The teenager pulled out his phone and began scrolling through it, spreading out until he was laying on his back. He muttered something in Russian before asking, "Where's Viktor anyway?"

Yuuri sat down on one of the chairs next to the couch, and started flipping through channels. He glanced down at his watch, "I think he went down to Kachu, or somewhere like that. Why? Did you need something?"

Yurio snorted loudly, "What? No, I was just wondering where that Geezer ran off to in case he broke a hip or something."

Yuuri glanced over at the teenager, smirking slightly. Yurio was sprawled out on the couch, flat on his back, with his phone above his face. He scrolled through Instagram nonchalantly, not really paying attention to the pictures he liked, before switching to Tumblr. He sneezed loudly, covering his mouth with his hand before wiping his nose with his sleeve. He sighed as he heard Yuuri say something incoherent from the other chair. He felt his phone slipping, and tried his best to juggle it in one hand while the other covered his mouth again. He let out another sneeze, jerking slightly as his phone slipped from his hand and smacked against his face. He groaned loudly, putting his phone on the armrest behind him and instead turned on his side to face the television in front of him.

Yuuri flipped through some more channels before turning on some Japanese sitcom about cats, figuring the teenager would like something he could relate to. He heard shuffling and looked over at the couch again to find Yurio staring intently at the television. He grinned, resting his feet against the table and flipping through his phone. He shook his head, seeing Viktor's status update from the Yamoka Bar.

"What are they saying?"

Yuuri looked up, pushing his glasses further up his nose, "What?"

Yurio groaned, adjusting his position again until he was on his stomach, one arm hanging off the couch, "God your hearing is worse than my grandpa's. I said, what are they saying?"

Yuuri turned towards the television, pulling his legs on the chair. The characters on the screen were a couple around their mid-twenties. They were having dinner, discussing their evening plans, but the cat kept jumping on the table, meowing loudly. The camera zoomed in on the cat as he continued to meow, knocking things off the table and demanding why his place wasn't set.

Yuuri cleared his throat, "They're discussing what to do after dinner but the cat keeps jumping up, wanting to know why he isn't invited."

Yurio snorted, glancing at Yuuri, "The cat can talk in this show?"

Yuuri nodded, "Yes, it's a rather popular show in Japan. It has a lot more depth than the couple. Normally the show focuses around a young woman named Makko, who inherits 12 talking cats from her great uncle after he dies. It's pretty ironic because she isn't a cat person, so whenever she tries to do something, one of the cats show up somehow and ruin it."

Yurio laughed softly before breaking out in a coughing fit. Yuuri leaned forward, "Yurio, you sure-"

Yurio shot him a glare, "If you ask me again, I swear I will punch you into the next room."

Yuuri didn't say anything. He leaned back against the chair again, turning back towards the television, biting his lip. His family were out of town for a day or two to advertise the last remaining Hot Spring in Hasetsu, and the upcoming competition. This wouldn't really bother Yuuri considering they had done it before, but if Yurio was sick or at least coming down with something, Yuuri had hoped his mom would be back before he took a turn.

….

Yurio jolted awake suddenly aware of three things. First, he was still lying on Katsudon's uncomfortable couch, except now, there was a blanket draped over him. Second, the room was darker than it had been before and the television was off, which probably meant Yuuri had left the room. And third, he felt utterly miserable. He groaned loudly, curling in on himself as his stomach twisted. He swallowed thickly, feeling the contents in his stomach sloshing around violently. His head was throbbing and he realized he was shivering despite feeling hot and sticky. There was no way in hell he was going to throw up. There was no way he was going to be sick in Hasetsu.

He jerked up as his stomach heaved, clasping a hand to his mouth as the world began to spin. He tried standing as his stomach heaved again, but his feet were tangled haphazardly in the blanket and he fell to the ground with a loud thunk. He curled in on himself once more, pressing his burning forehead against the wooden floor, his hand clamped over his mouth while his other arm clutched around his stomach protectively. He shivered slightly as the cold air touched his overheated skin, and shut his eyes as the world began to spin violently underneath him.

"Yurio?" Yuuri asked softly, placing a glass of water on a small table, and kneeling besides the trembling teenager.

Yurio didn't answer and he didn't look up. He was too afraid to. He was too afraid to move because he was sure if he did, if he moved even his head, he'd puke. He felt a gentle hand on his back as his body lurched forward. He felt the acidic bile rising in his throat as his stomach groaned in desperation, and he swallowed loudly. No. No. NO! You're not sick. This isn't happening.

Yuuri rubbed the teenager's back gently, concerned confusion etching across his face as he pulled his hand back. Yurio was covered in sweat. The teenager whimpered loudly, gripping his stomach tighter as his body lurched again. "Okay, Okay, let's get you to the bathroom," Yuuri whispered softly, grabbing the boy's arm, pulling him to his feet slowly.

Yurio wanted to shake his head. He wanted to curse Yuuri out; he wanted to tell him he didn't want to stand; he didn't want to move. He felt the world shift as everything became upright, and clenched his eyes tighter, breathing shallowly through his nose. Please don't puke. Not here, not with the piglet next to you! His stomach pitched again, and Yurio lurched forward as vomit filled his mouth. He swallowed continuously, pleading with his body not to throw up. He leaned against Yuuri, surprised with how cool he felt against his overheated skin.

Yuuri put his arm around Yurio's waist, resting it gently on the teenager's stomach, and started walking towards the bathroom. He bit his lip, looking back down at the Russian Punk. Yurio's face was plastered in sweat; he still had one hand over his mouth, the other wrapped around his stomach gently. Even with his eyes closed, Yuuri could see the distress and pain etched across the kid's face. This wasn't good.

Yuuri flipped on the hallway light as Yurio whimpered again, doubling over. "It's alright Yura, were almost there, just a little further," Yuuri said softly, hoping the kid could hold out that long because he really didn't want to clean up a mess.

Yurio tried walking straight, he really did, but the nausea coursing through his body was making it hard to concentrate. His head spun again as his stomach cramped violently. He groaned, wishing his grandpa was here, or at least Viktor, someone familiar, someone Russian. His knees buckled and he slammed harshly against Yuuri. Yuuri gasped loudly, adjusting his grip around the teenager, trying to keep the boy from crumpling to the ground. Yurio's stomach lurched again as Yuuri's hand tightened around his midsection. He whimpered as the added pressure brought up a huge amount of vomit, drowning his mouth, and causing his whole body to pitch forward violently.

Yurio retched loudly, the acidic bile tearing at his throat, splattering harshly against the wooden hallway. He clenched his eyes tighter until they hurt, feeling his body begin to shake. He coughed again, trying to slow his breathing, as the remaining warm liquid dripped from his chin slowly. He heard Yuuri talking beside him but tuned him out as his stomach heaved again. He swallowed, shuddering as warmth washed over his already sweating body.

Yuuri adjusted his grip slightly, moving his hand towards the teenager's chest gently, feeling the slimy liquid dripping down his hand and squishing between his toes. He shuddered slightly, disgust and concern coursing through his body. Yuuri tightened his grip as the teenager pitched forward again bringing up another wave of predigested food and stomach acid. He cringed at the thought of cleaning it up and swallowed, trying his best to keep his stomach intact. God knows, he wasn't a stranger to vomit, having dealt with his fair share during his anxiety attacks, but it still wasn't pleasant to clean up at midnight. Yurio let out a groan and Yuuri jerked his head down towards the boy.

Tears fell silently down Yurio's cheeks and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He swallowed again, crossing both arms over his stomach now, as Yuuri lowered him to the floor gently. He pressed his back against the wall, sliding down until his face touched the icy floor. Yurio cringed as the smell touched his nose, and held his breath for a few moments as another wave of nausea passed over him. He sneezed softly, and gently wiped at the tears that fell from his tired eyes. He didn't want to be here. He would rather be anywhere else in the world than here. And despite throwing up what seemed like half his body weight, and laying on the ground, his head was still spinning, and he still felt nauseous. He felt something cool on his forehead and blinked groggily to see Yuuri kneeling in front of him.

"God Yurio, you're really sick, huh?" Yuuri said softly, moving his hand from the kid's forehead to his cheek. He bit his lip again as concern and worry washed over him. He'd never seen Yurio sick before; usually the kid hid any illnesses or injuries until he either ended up passing out on the ice, or lectured from Yakov. And the fact that Yurio hadn't yelled at Yuuri once, and seemed almost compliant with him being there, caused Yuuri's anxiety to spike. He ran his fingers through the boy's hair gently, unsure of what to do. Yuuri had never really taken care of someone before. I mean yeah, he'd cared for his sister once when she was ill, but that was different. He looked around the small hallway, wishing his mom was here, or at least Viktor; hell, he'd even take Yakov, because honestly, he had no idea what to do to make the boy feel better.

Yurio wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and scrubbed angrily at the tears still falling down his cheeks. He felt miserable and all he wanted to do was get out of his sticky wet clothes. He coughed softly before biting the inside of his cheek as tears welled in his eyes again. You're not going to cry. You're not going to cry. Yurio's eyes darted to the vomit puddled behind Yuuri then back towards the Japanese skater kneeling in front of him. Yurio cringed, noticing Yuuri's shirt and legs were splattered with vomit. He gulped loudly before closing his eyes. Yuuri inhaled quickly, "Hey, don't cry. It's okay, no big deal. I'm going to go get some towels to clean this up, okay? And get you a change of clothes, okay?"

The kid didn't reply but Yuuri hadn't really expected him too. Instead Yurio curled in on himself, pressing his forehead to his knees, hoping the nausea would subside. He heard Yuuri get up followed by loud shuffling from another room as something was being opened. He crossed his arms around his stomach tighter, and welcomingly embraced the darkness that enveloped him.

…..

If someone had asked Yuuri a couple days ago how he thought he'd be spending his Friday night; taking care of the Russian Punk wouldn't have been his answer. But now, Yuuri sat next to the bed, his feet propped up against the mattress, a book pressed firmly in his hands, disregarded. He glanced nervously between the pages, reading the lines but not absorbing its contents. He sighed and put the book on the desk and grabbed his phone, flipping through the contacts and letting his thumb hover over Viktor's name. It was nearing 2am now, and according to his status Viktor was still checked in at Yamoka Bar.

Yurio whimpered slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. Yuuri shifted, putting his phone down and leaning closer to the teenager. He pressed his hand gently against his forehead, sighing, feeling the warmth connecting with his fingers. It'd taken him an hour to clean up the hallway before he managed to carry the teenager to bed. Yurio was quite lite for his age but he was all limbs, which made carrying him a difficult task. Not to mention, Yuuri didn't want to wake him, so trying to change his shirt was painfully slow. He sighed again, getting up and walking out of the room to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth, wetting it in the sink before grabbing some Tylenol from the medicine cabinet. He returned, sitting on the edge of the bed, pressing the clothe to the boy's forehead as he began to stir.

Yurio opened his eyes slowly to a spinning world. His stomach cramped and he whimpered again as he realized something wet was touching his face. He coughed roughly, peering up to see the Japanese skater sitting on the edge of the bed, "I-I don't feel well, Katsudon," he whined. Yuuri folded the clothe in half before pressing once again to the teenager's forehead, "I know, just try to go back to sleep."

The teenager moaned slightly, shifting to his stomach. The rag against his forehead felt nice, and he wished once more that his grandpa was here. He heard Yuuri sigh, and watched him get up from the bed before reaching a hand out, grabbing his wrist, "P-please, don't leave. I, uh, I don't want to be alone…"

Yuuri stared down at the teenager before smiling warmly. He climbed over Yurio, sitting next to him with his legs crossed in front of him. Yurio scooted closer, pressing his forehead against Yuuri's thigh, causing the Japanese skater's face to cloud with worry. He put his hand on the teenager's back, rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. Yurio sighed softly as his body began to drift back to sleep.

Yuuri bit his lip. He wasn't used to the Russian Punk being so gentle and it worried him greatly. He continued to rub the boy's back, hearing his breathing begin to even out, realizing he was asleep. He reached over, grabbing his phone off the nightstand, and turning the light off.

…..

Yuuri wasn't sure what woke him first. He laid there listening to the soft breeze outside the window and focused on his surroundings. It took him a few seconds to register two things. First, his hand that was resting against Yurio's back was burning. Second, someone was crying.

Yuuri jolted up, flipping the lamp on beside him. Light flooded the tiny room and Yuuri let out a gasp as he glanced down at Yurio. The teenager was pressed against his side, sweat coating his face, drenching his hair, and soaking his clothes. His pace was paler than before except pink hues outlined his cheek's and he was shivering. He reached for Yuuri, tears flooding down his face. Yuuri pressed his hand against the teenager's forehead, pulling it back as soon as it touched his skin. He felt panic rising in his chest and tried taking a breath to calm down. The kid was burning.

Yurio let out a loud sob as he reached for Yuuri again. His skin was on fire and his stomach was killing him. The sheets tangled against his body burned against his sweaty skin. He coughed loudly sucking in a ragged breath harshly, "Y-Yuuri-" He cut off as another sob escaped his body.

Yuuri jumped off the bed, running into the other room, scrounging for a thermometer, hoping his mom had one in the guest bathroom. He heard the teenager crying from the other room, calling out in Russian, screaming for him, for Viktor, and for his grandfather. He bit his lip, running back, tripping over the rug on the floor.

"Yurio, shh, Yurio. It's okay. Calm down, calm-," He said, jumping back on the bed. Yurio reached for him again, and Yuuri pulled him closer, the teenager pressed his face against Yuuri's chest, tears soaking through his shirt. He jammed the thermometer in the kid's mouth roughly as Yurio cried louder.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay. You're going to be okay," Yuuri whispered, reaching for his phone on the nightstand and flipping through it quickly. He found his mom's number and hit call, waiting impatiently as it continued to ring. He bit his lip again, feeling panic spreading through his body.

Yurio clutched at Yuuri's shirt, pulling it down, mumbling something in Russian through half-shut eyes, and messy tears. His skin hurt, he didn't feel well, and he wanted Yuuri to make it better. Yuuri cursed loudly as his flipped through his contacts again, dialing Yakov's number, then Yurio's grandfather. No one was picking up. Yurio sobbed again as Yuuri threw his phone down on the bed, pulling the thermometer from the boy's mouth. He cursed again. Yurio's temperature was at 104.6. That was high, really high. Did he need a Doctor? Did he need a hospital? He sucked in another breath, cradling the boy to his chest.

Yurio grasped again, whimpering in Russian as Yuuri tried his best to calm him down. He pulled the boy closer to him, running his hand through his sweat soaked hair, "Yurio, Yuri. I'm so sorry I-I don't understand. I-" Yurio cried again, repeating the same phrase in Russian, tears streaming down his face. He buried his face in Yuuri's chest, gripping his shirt tightly, feeling his stomach heave but having nothing left to administer.

"Yuri I'm sorry, I don't understand. Honey, I don't understand," Yuuri said, panic etched in his voice. He straightened his glasses and took a shallow breath, feeling his own body beginning to tremble. "Y- Yu-uri," Yurio cried, "Ta-tasu-kete."

Yuuri felt his blood run cold as all the air in his lungs left his body. Yurio was pleading with him in broken Japanese now. This was really bad. Yuuri felt like he was choking as Yurio muttered the phrase again. He sucked in a shaky breath, "Okay, it's okay. I'm going to fix it. It's okay. I'm going to fix it."

He ran his fingers through the boy's hair shakily before grabbing his phone next to him, flipping through his contacts once more, dialing Viktor's number. He bit his lip, praying to God that the older Russian would pick up. Yurio groaned, muttering in Russian again, pressing his forehead against Yuuri's neck.

After the 4th ring, Viktor's intoxicated voice drifted through the speaker, "Pork Cutlet! I was just talking about you!" There was a loud noise in the background causing Viktor to laugh and someone started shouting. Yurio let out another moan, "Tasukete… Yuuri… Viktor…. Mne plokho."

Yuuri tensed up again, "Vik- Viktor-"

"Yuuri, I'm sorry, I can't hear you," Viktor shouted through the phone. Yuuri sucked in another breath, finding it difficult to breath now. He could hear the noise in the background begin to fade, realizing Viktor must have stepped outside to get away from the drunken crowd. He swallowed again, glancing down at Yurio, who still clung to him desperately. He clutched again at Yuuri's shirt, choking out another sob and incoherent Russian. The heat enveloping his body was uncomfortable and making it hard to breathe properly. Yurio looked up at Yuuri, pain and fear clouding his face as more tears flooded his eyes, streaming down his cheeks.

Yuuri heard Viktor trip over something, laughing softly on the other end and mutter something in Russian, "Okay Yuuri. I can hear you now. I love the Saké, and people, Hasetsu is such a beautiful place, and you-"

Yuuri tried to breathe. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a half choked, "Vitya-" He felt the world growing smaller as the air suddenly thinned in the room and he found he couldn't breathe. His face was heating up and his body was starting to shake as he tried to suck in a breath. His heart pounded wildly as panic flowed through his veins, hearing Yurio pleading again. Yuuri coughed breathlessly, trying to inhale the air surrounding him, fully aware he was on the verge of having an anxiety attack.

Viktor's panicked voice echoed loudly through the phone, "Yuuri! Yuuri! Tell me what's wrong!" Viktor words were suddenly sober as he sensed the situation, and Yuuri grasped onto every syllable, trying his best to even out his breathing. He couldn't breathe. God, he couldn't breathe. Yurio whimpered loudly, breaking out into another coughing fit. Snot was running down his face, mixing with the sweat and tears that covered his face, and he grasped again at Yuuri's collar, digging his fingers into his neck.

"Yuuri," Viktor said softly, "I need you to breathe. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?" Yuuri nodded, closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, concentrating on Viktor's voice over the phone. "In and out. Deep breath. Deep breath. Nice and easy." Yuuri could hear Viktor moving on the other side of the phone and realized he'd left the bar now and was walking somewhere else. Yuuri concentrated on Viktor's words, he concentrated on listening to him moving on the other side of the phone, picturing him walking past the river, stopping at the bridge. He let out a deep sigh, hearing Viktor do the same.

"Now, tell me what's wrong," Viktor said gently.

Yuuri took another breath, "I'm sorry to bug you, it's just, it's Yurio. I'm sorry Viktor, I didn't know who else to call. I couldn't get ahold of my mom, or Yurio's grandfather, I, I just- I don't know what to do," Yuuri let out another shaking breath, feeling the teenager shiver against him. He gulped loudly, "He's really sick Vitya, he's- his fever's really high and I don't know what he wants, he keeps saying something in Russian and, and, I, I don't speak Russian that well, and I- I," Yuuri broke off, feeling tears welling in his eyes, and dripping down his face. He hated feeling helpless. He didn't know what to do to help the teenager cradled in his arms, and he didn't know Russian well enough to be able to comfort him.

"Yuuri, listen to me carefully," Viktor said softly, his voice low and serious, "Take a deep breath again. In and out, alright?" Viktor paused, "does Yurio recognize you? Does he know who you are?"

"Yes- yes, he keeps saying my name- I don't know-"

"Okay, that's good. When Yurio's ill sometimes he spikes high fevers, they don't usually last long but at least he recognizes you this time, that's good," Viktor said, trailing off.

Yurio groaned again, his grip softening on Yuuri's shirt causing the Japanese skater to glance down worriedly. Yurio was staring at him, blinking slowly, trying his best to stay awake, silent tears still sliding down his face. Yuuri watched him, afraid to move, afraid he would set the kid off again.

"Yuuri? Yuuri, are you still there?" Viktor asked softly.

Yuuri nodded before realizing Viktor couldn't see him, "Y-yeah. I am. I'm here."

"Alright good, listen, I'm going to see if there is a drugstore still open at this time of night. Keep an eye of Yurio's fever, put a wet clothe on his forehead and try to get him to drink something. I'll be back at the Hot Spring soon, alright?" Viktor asked quietly.

"O-Okay," Yuuri gulped.

"Will you be okay? Or would you prefer I stay on the phone?"

Yuuri looked around the tiny room as Yurio groaned again, his body falling limp in Yuuri's arms, "I'll be fine Viktor…. Thank you for picking up, and-"

Viktor laughed, "No worries Yuuri, this isn't the first time I've had to take care of the kid, you know."

Yuuri smirked, feeling the tension leaving his body. Viktor knew what to do. Thank God, Viktor knew what to do. And he trusted Viktor. Yuuri sighed loudly, hanging up and easing Yurio down until the kid's face was pressed softly against the pillow.

…...

Viktor opened the door softly, breathing a sigh of relief as he entered the quiet room. He took his jacket off, setting the plastic bag on the ground and walked quietly over to the bed. He stood there, taking in the room, and laughed slightly. The nightstand table held a half empty bottle of Gatorade, and several disregarded washcloths.

Viktor ran his fingers through Yurio's sweat dried hair, smirking. Yurio groaned slightly as Viktor sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his fingers against the teenager's cheek tenderly, before running his fingers once more through his hair. The boy's fever must have broken because he was covered in sweat now, and he felt lukewarm against Viktor's touch.

Viktor sighed, looking over at Yuuri, who was asleep next to Yurio. Yuuri was laying on his side, one arm under Yurio's head so the boy's head was pressed against his shoulder, the other lying gently across the boy's chest. His face was peaceful despite the dried tearstains still present on his cheeks from earlier. Viktor smiled fondly, reaching over to run his fingers through Yuuri's hair. He chuckled again, noticing Yuuri's glasses were still resting on his face, bending at a dangerous angle.

The teenager shifted slightly causing Yuuri to stir before opening his eyes slowly. He glanced at the boy making sure he was still asleep before glancing up to see Viktor sitting on the side of the bed. He felt his face heat up, realizing Viktor was watching him, and gently propped himself up, unclasping Yurio's grasp from his shirt, "Uh, h-hi Vitya," he whispered.

Viktor smiled sadly, running his fingers through Yurio's hair again, "His fever broke Yuuri."

Yuuri looked surprised, pressing his hand against the teenager's cheek. He looked back up at Viktor, relief masking his features, "I was so worried. I didn't know what I was doing."

Viktor smiled again, reaching across Yurio, and running his thumb against Yuuri's cheek lovingly, "You did a good job Yuuri. Better than I would have… trust me."

…..

Author's Note: Okay sorry guys, I had to end it (I also need to re-watch Yuri On Ice). It was already going on 8 pages and I have SO much to write. Keep the requests coming and I will try to fill them, or suggest someone who might. I still want to update As Cold As Ice. Also, I unfortunately, don't speak Japanese or Russian (only German/ English), so if my translations are wrong please message me because I would love to know the correct translation.

Tasukete- Help.

Mne Plokho- I feel bad.

Thanks Guys!