This was written for a request on my sneezehq tumblr and is set post-series. Enjoy!
It's nice to have a place of his own again. After his win in the Grand Prix Finals, Yuri had decided that he didn't need live with his coach anymore and had moved out of Lilia's house, back into his own apartment. He was definitely old enough to live on his own, he argued. In the end, Lilia and Yakov had given up and let him have his way.
Yuri is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and he knows it. So when the lingering exhaustion he's been feeling since he woke up hasn't gone away by the time practice is finished, Yuri is pretty sure that he's getting sick. His weariness is joined by a pounding headache and dry cough by the time he gets home, and Yuri groans, flopping onto the couch. Getting back up seems like an insurmountable task, but eventually he forces his aching body upright and drags himself to the kitchen to have some dinner, despite not having an appetite.
One shower and change of clothes later, and Yuri is digging through his bathroom closet. He finds a bottle of cough medicine that may or may not be expired; it's difficult to tell. His pounding head is making it difficult to read the tiny print on the bottle. Shrugging, he figures that it can't hurt, and pours himself what he believes the correct dosage before collapsing into bed. He'll feel better in the morning, after some sleep.
Saturday morning comes, and Yuri doesn't wake up until nine o'clock, which is late for him. Despite the extra sleep, he doesn't feel any better-all his muscles have gone stiff overnight, and his throat feels like he swallowed glass shards. Some cough drops would be nice, but Yuri doesn't have the energy right now to make a run to the store. He'll just have to make do with what he has available.
At least he doesn't have practice today. For once, Yuri is grateful that his coaches make him take the weekends off during the off season. He can rest up today and tomorrow, kick this bug's ass, and be ready to practice on Monday morning. His plan firmly in mind, Yuri settles himself on the couch in the living room, watching a crime show that he used to watch with his grandpa.
It would be nice to talk to his grandpa right now, but given how sore his throat is, he's pretty sure that his voice is pretty much nonexistent. Yuri always misses grandpa, but especially now, when he feels so sick and miserable. He makes a mental note to give him a call when he's feeling better. He spends the rest of the day drifting in and out of a restless sleep, catching occasional glimpses of what's happening on the TV. He only gets up to use the bathroom or to refill his water, and once to nibble on some crackers and eat some soup he heated up in the microwave.
Despite all his resting, Yuri continues to feel worse as the day goes on. His cough is getting thicker and sharper, and the room feels hot and cold in turns. When he dozes off only to wake up on the floor next to the couch, Yuri decides to pick himself up and go to bed. He's probably getting hit with the worst of the bug now, and after another good nights rest, he'll be on the mend. Another dose of that cough medicine should do the trick.
Yuri wakes up to a violent coughing fit. He coughs and coughs and coughs endlessly, gasping for breath, until the fit finally, blessedly stops. It's so exhausting that he just lays there for several minutes afterward, trying to take in some air.
Getting out of bed seems too difficult today, so Yuri doesn't even bother to try, just closes his eyes and swallows against his painfully sore throat, scraped raw by coughing. It's freezing in his bedroom so he tugs the blankets around him and curls into a ball, surrounded by his warm cocoon. Once the shivering tapers off a bit, Yuri gratefully lets sleep claim him.
It doesn't seem like he'll be better in time for practice tomorrow, but calling in to say that feels to much like giving up. By the time he even thinks to do that, his vision is too hazy to look at his phone screen. He can't help but feel like he's forgetting something, but he's too exhausted to think of what it is.
When Yuri doesn't show up at the rink Monday morning, everyone is worried. "We were supposed to meet up this weekend to talk about his free program, but he never showed up," says Victor, concern etching lines into his face.
"Has anyone heard from Yuri at all?" asks Yuuri. The answer is a resounding no from everyone.
"It's not like him a to miss practice," says Yakov, a frown creasing his face.
"Victor and I will go and check on him," Yuuri says decisively. He's got a bad feeling about this.
Yuri's apartment is only a five minute drive from the ice rink-the better for jogging before practice. They climb up the stairs to the second floor, but when they knock on the door, there's no response. Even more worried now, Victor pulls out the key that Yuri gave him in case of an emergency and unlocks the door.
They find Yuri in the bedroom, sleeping restlessly. He looks terrible; his face is pale, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair is plastered to his face with sweat. "Yuri, are you feeling okay? You don't look very well," Yuuri says, shaking his shoulder gently.
After a few seconds, Yuri manages to slowly crack his eyes open. "Katsudon?" he croaks out. "And Victor? What are you doing here?"
Yuri's voice breaks on the last word, plunging him into another bout of wet-sounding coughs. Yuuri rubs his back as he continues to choke and gasp for air, saying something to Victor that Yuri doesn't catch over the sound of his own ragged breathing. When the fit finally ends, Yuri slumps back into the pillows, groaning when Yuuri tugs on his arm.
"You're very sick. We need to get you to a hospital. Can you stand?"
As it turns out, Yuri cannot stand. His knees buckle when he tries and the effort sends him into another fit of rattling coughs. Yuuri scoops him up, bracing one arm under his knees and the other under his shoulders to carry him to the car. "Victor is waiting for us in the car. We were worried when you didn't show up to practice this morning and came to check on you. Why didn't you tell anyone that it was this bad?"
Yuri doesn't have the breath or the energy to respond, but he focuses on Yuuri's words in an attempt to distract himself from his throat's efforts to shred itself. Yuuri settles them both into the backseat, and tells Victor to step on it. Sitting up helps Yuri breathe a little better, but he's so exhausted he can barely keep his eyes open.
"Stay awake," Yuuri says, nudging him when his eyes fall closed.
"Fuck off, katsudon," Yuri mumbles tiredly. The last thing he hears is an exasperated sigh from Yuuri before darkness claims him again.
When Yuri finally regains consciousness, he's in an uncomfortable bed surrounded by painfully white walls-a hospital. He groans.
"You're finally awake," says a voice from the chair next to his bed. Yuri turns his head to see Victor.
"Why'm I here?" mutters Yuri, his voice coming out raspy. Victor winces at the sound and passes Yuri a glass of water, which he takes gratefully.
"You have pneumonia. I'm afraid that you're going to be here for a while. Probably a few days, at least."
Yuri scowls but his throat hurts too much to yell like he wants to. He settles for a sulky glare instead.
"Yuri, why didn't you tell us that it was this bad?" Victor asks, unaffected by Yuri's anger.
"I thought it was just a cold," Yuri argues, careful not to raise his voice. The water helped soothe the soreness a little, but he doesn't want to risk setting off another coughing fit. "Plus, I was taking care of myself. I even took medicine!" he announces, as though it's some sort of epic achievement.
"You mean that cough medicine that I bought you years ago? That's definitely gone bad by now. You should look into restocking your medicine cabinet."
Yuri smirks at him. "You're one to talk, geezer. You didn't even own any medicine before Yuuri moved in with you."
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