Yuuri rages against being treated like a weakling. Victor worries constantly.
Eros Yuuri shows up to try and fix it.
I had a rough few days, which is why this update is late, but I promise the next one will be on time!
Thank you again to all the wonderful readers who are supporting this fic! I have been disheartened a bit with my own writing, and all of you are really helping to change that!
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Forty-eight hours after Yuuri had arrived in the emergency room, unconscious and bleeding from the head, he was being pushed through the main doors in a wheelchair, bandaged, exhausted, and happy. A cheerful Victor followed behind the transport tech, Yuuri's belongings dangling from his arms as he chatted with Phicit. The sun was mind-numbingly bright, causing Yuuri to wince as he attempted to block it with his hand, cursing the lack of transition in his lenses. Most of his body felt elated from the natural heat, absorbing the sun's rays like a man escaping from captivity in a cave. His head, however, swirled dangerously with unease and he solemnly resorted to covering his eyes with the boxy glasses provided by his discharge nurse. Concussions are no joke, he heard her voice in the back of his mind, groaning as he rubbed his temples.
The sounds of Yuuri's pain elicited worry from depths of Victor's heart. Dumping his boyfriend's things unceremoniously into the trunk, Victor rushed back to his side, placing gentle hands around Yuuri's waist to guide him from the wheelchair to the passenger seat of the car. Phicit thanked the tech with a swift pat on the back sliding into the backseat to secure the flower vases, the largest and most obnoxious arriving minutes before Yuuri had escaped his hospital room, a gift from his favorite set of gray-haired regulars. He had left the chocolates and the wine behind for his nurses, loving their surprised faces upon the delivery of the items to the nurses' station. Yuuri was no stranger to hospital stays, with his propensity for injuring himself and his legendary levels of anxiety attacks, and he knew from experience how much nurses enjoyed being recognized. He had already arranged with Phicit to have Nikiforov's deliver a catered spread to the hospital floor, drop off scheduled around the time of shift change so all of the wonderful people who provided him care would feel appreciated. He felt even better about this decision after spending an hour listening to them tell stories of Victor's worried antics during his lost twenty-four hours. His heart swelled with the thought of his goofy boyfriend driving the patient staff batty on his behalf, and he had welcomed Victor to his room that morning with a teasing smile and lavish kisses.
Yuuri was relieved to know that the restaurant had reopened on Wednesday, run without a hitch by the amazing team of Mila and Phicit. He had taunted Phicit about preserving his reputation, both men knowing that Phicit could outshine Yuuri on any given day if he put his mind to it, and their silly dramatics had given Yuuri hope that life would now return back to normal. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to continue to rehash the accident, conveying this concern to both Victor and Phicit repeatedly until they promised to speak to the restaurant staff on his behalf. He couldn't return to work until Tuesday and he was reassured that the interest in the incident would be tempered by that time. Yuuri had originally argued profusely over being barred from the restaurant, but he had finally admitted defeat instead trying to embrace the time off. His heart had skipped more than a safe number of beats when Victor had declared his intention to stay with Yuuri for the time being, Yuuri's mind creating a long and inventive list of ways that he and Victor could pass their alone time together. For someone who had survived a potentially fatal motor vehicle accident, Yuuri was feeling electrically alive, grinning in expectation as Victor's car pulled into the unused parking spot at Yuuri's apartment complex.
The bumbling mess they made getting from the car into the elevator should have been highlighted on a gag reel and Yuuri was positive that somewhere a security guard was having a laugh at their expense. Yuuri had neither broken his legs nor mentioned any pain in them, but Victor had spent the majority of the short walk trying to carry him, resulting in drunken-like stumbling and high-pitched squeals from Yuuri. Vases of flowers dangerously tipped in Phicit's hands as he laughed hysterically at Victor's attempts, never bothering to show an ounce of sympathy when Yuuri pouted his way. It was only by the grace of God himself that they made it into the apartment unscathed, all three of them sinking onto the couch with individually motivated sighs of relief.
Looking around his apartment, Yuuri let the comfort of home settle through his body. It smelled like Phicit's hamsters and takeout food, combined with the scent of drying laundry and fresh flowers. The smell was dizzying in all the best of ways and Yuuri closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. When Victor shifted to his side, the smell of Victor's cologne mingled with his shampoo joining the other scents, making Yuuri feel light-headed with giddiness. After two days in the hospital, he wanted nothing more than his own shower, Phicit-cooked food, and lots of quality time cuddled under the sheets on his bed with his boyfriend; a list that he spoke aloud without a hint of bashfulness. As Phicit confirmed his contribution to Yuuri's list of requests, Victor dragged him to his feet, promising him fulfillment of the rest. The blur of the last few days fell away and Yuuri felt his heart relax, gladly accepting the attention and care of his two favorite people.
It was a funny feeling, being doted on. Every move Yuuri made, Victor or Phicit was there, fluttering touches to his sides and good arm, steadying him and asking him if he was okay. As promised, Victor had taken up residence in Yuuri's room, claiming the right side of the bed and all of Yuuri's personal space. They cooked for him and made sure his meds were provided on time; one of them always in his presence, never leaving his side vacant for more than a few seconds. He often woke to the sounds of them whispering in the hallway, knowing he couldn't hear every worried word and constantly needing to reassure himself that they were not specifically discussing him to keep the anxiety from ramping up inside his mind. The investigation had begun into the accident, the car currently being reviewed by St. Peterburg's finest mechanics, and Yuuri knew there were details that they were keeping to themselves. He tried in vain to get answers, finally letting it go, resolving to track down Mila when he returned to the restaurant.
In the meantime, Yuuri allowed himself to indulge in Victor's affections, letting his boyfriend surround him in all the sweetness that was Victor. Every touch was feather light, followed by skimming kisses that never turned over to full fire. During the day, Victor forcefully kept Yuuri in bed, entertaining him with movies and books, jumping every time Yuuri breathed slightly too hard. He constantly asked Yuuri for an assessment on his pain, readjusting pillows and blankets in a nervous twitch, which was both endearing and slightly annoying. At night, Victor slept holding Yuuri to his chest or curled into Yuuri's back, gentle rhythm of breathing meddling together in a peaceful harmony. Having Victor so close for so many hours was making Yuuri feel drugged, more than his medications were capable of drugging him, and he realized how much he was beginning to rely on Victor's physical presence in this life. His need for pain medication and distraction was greatly decreased simply by the loving embraces of the long slender arms that were never more than a breath away.
In the wee hours of his third day at home, waking when his shoulder had flinched with pain, Yuuri curled back into Victor, letting his fingertips roam over the smooth expanse of Victor's skin. Today, Isabella would take Victor's place as his babysitter, Victor no longer able to continue his avoidance of responsibilities at the restaurant. Isabella had promised Victor hourly updates, teasing him by saying she would keep Yuuri away from electrical sockets and stairwells. It would be nice to spend time with Isabella, and Yuuri looked forward to having her with him for the day, even though he already knew he would miss Victor. It should be illegal to desire someone's presence so much, and Yuuri was sure that he was developing some type of co-dependency issue, not that he cared even a little bit. Tightly snuggling into Victor's bare chest, Yuuri fell back into dreamland with a smile on his face.
Blood. It trickled down his arm, his shaking fingers dragging it across his shirt sleeve. Next to him, a head of dark hair hung limply, red droplets rolling across the matted strands. Reaching to touch it, the smell of iron erupted around him, making his stomach churn as his body was lifted away. Calling out, he strained against strong arms, begging the dead man in his car to wake up.
"Victor!" Yuuri was shaking his sobbing boyfriend with his good arm, concern sweeping through him as Victor cried out in his sleep. It had been Victor's moaning of his name that had awoken Yuuri, originally with a smile thinking that his boyfriend was having devious thoughts about him. The smile quickly disappeared when he saw the tears on Victor's sleeping cheeks, causing Yuuri to twist in bed, thumping against Victor's shoulders in an attempt to break him from the dream.
Blinking, Victor gaped blankly at the ceiling, unfocused and somewhere between dreaming and awake. He tried to remedy the dream image with the unscarred face of his boyfriend that loomed over his vision. Reaching out, Victor trailed soft fingers down Yuuri's rounded cheeks, relief spreading from the tips of his fingers through his mind and heart. Saying Yuuri's name, Victor watched as his face brightened, letting the smile reassure Victor that all was well. Calming, he pulled Yuuri back to his chest to kiss the messy black hair, reassuring himself that it was unmarked by the red blood of his dreams.
It wasn't the first nightmare either of them had, and it would most likely not be the last. They had agreed to always wake the other person, and in turn promised that they would always share the contents of their dreams. Victor also promised not to leave Yuuri alone at night until the nightmares had passed completely into their shared history. Part of Yuuri knew that Victor didn't want to return to his own home and he used the nightmares as an excuse to keep Victor by his side, acknowledging his own hesitation to go anywhere near the driveway that had almost ended them. Whatever the reason, Yuuri was glad that it kept Victor by his side, giving them both an opportunity to comfort each other when nightmares and worries buzzed into their brains. Lying back, Yuuri patiently waited for Victor to be ready to talk, lightly stroking his right hand over Victor's tense shoulders.
The words wouldn't release from his throat. Although Victor couldn't understand, Phicit had explained that Yuuri would feel immensely guilty if he had put Victor through any sort of pain, and seeing Yuuri unconscious and bleeding from the head definitely fit into that category. Victor had no intention of telling Yuuri that he was awake at the scene of the accident, preferring Yuuri to continue to think that they both had been knocked unconscious. Deferring to the vast Yuuri knowledge that Phicit possessed, Victor went along with Yuuri's assumption, reconfiguring all his dreams and claiming it was his mind trying to fill in the blanks of the missed time whenever they circled around the scene of the occurrence. Yuuri seemed to be buying this explanation for now and Victor was not in the position to change his decision. Sighing, Victor began to detail his dream, leaving out his subconscious assumption of Yuuri's death. On the long list of things Yuuri didn't need to know, Victor's horrifying brain imagining him dead was at the top.
Over their heads, Victor's alarm began to buzz, alerting them to the official start of a new day. Cursing, Victor reached for the device to silence its obnoxious noise, complaining to Yuuri about his leaving Yuuri's side to return to the restaurant. Reminding Victor that he had to keep the restaurant going so Yuuri would have a job to return to changed Victor's mood only slightly, the broad shoulders raising a fraction of an inch from their defeated curve. Scooting from under the covers, Victor plodded toward the bathroom in the midst of an adorable pout.
Ideas forming in Yuuri's head, he too slipped from the bed, waiting until he heard the shower running to enter the bathroom, stripping his clothes off with every step. They had showered together several times now, but only during the first time at Victor's house was there ever anything more than purposeful cleaning and scrubbing. Yuuri was beginning to feel pent up, Victor's closeness over the past days adding to the overflowing need with each touch and loving sentiment. Opening the shower door, he slithered in behind Victor, placing bruising hands on the narrow hips in front of him.
"Yuuri," Victor's warning sound was an unexpected turn on, pushing Yuuri forward to wrap his arms around Victor's wet waist. "Do you want me to wash you, love?"
If Victor had noticed Yuuri's intentions, he was doing an excellent job of pretending that he hadn't. Frustrated, he hadn't heard all of Victor's question, nodding in response against his shoulder blades, even though he didn't know what he had agreed to. The soapy purple sponge hit his skin and Yuuri relinquished his hold on Victor, only to let him turn around to be chest-to-chest with Yuuri in the return of the same hold. Victor's hands traveled over Yuuri's body, delicately washing him with small strokes of the sponge.
The sight of the stitches, speckling Yuuri's formally perfect skin made Victor's heart mournfully ache in his chest. As he gingerly cleaned each area, he repeated the count of the locations, stomach always twisting as the total reached over twenty. Victor had marks of his own, bruises on his chest and arms evidencing the impact of the airbag and the door panel against his body, but those didn't bother him at all. Yuuri's markings though, stitches repairing holes cut by glass, stitches identifying his surgical area, and bruises covering the majority of Yuuri's body were a constant reminder that he almost lost this beautiful man,breaking Victor's heart with every injury. All of these visible flaws were nothing compared to Victor's fracturing resolve to give Yuuri a choice, and he continued to delay the conversation that was continuously looping in his head, scared to know what Yuuri's final decision would be. It was too much for Victor to hope that Yuuri would continue to love him, despite the tragedies that love could bring into Yuuri's life, and he was spending every second soaking up Yuuri's essence, in case it was suddenly ripped from his life. If he continued to ignore the need to talk, continued to push down his needs for more intense physical intimacy, Victor was convinced he could delay the inevitable, selfishness wanting to keep Yuuri in his world for as long as possible.
Again, the feeling of loving care vibrated through Yuuri, in equal parts of splendid and infuriating. Victor had been a wonderful nurse, easily rivaling the gentle care which Phicit usually bestowed on him during Yuuri's worst hours. Even now as they stood under the streaming water, Victor insisted on ensuring that Yuuri wasn't inappropriately using his injured arm, thoroughly cleaning his body while the touches remained reserved. Hands guided the netted material of the sponge over Yuuri's naked, wet body, making it come alive, while Victor painfully ignored Yuuri's erection, even when Victor's own became pronounced. It was useless to attempt to push anything further, as Victor had skillfully avoided all of Yuuri's advances, leaving him with levels of sexual frustration that Yuuri didn't even know existed.
They stepped from the shower together, drying themselves quickly, Victor gently helping Yuuri dry his back. While Yuuri slipped on a pair of comfortable shorts refusing the shirt that Victor offered him, Victor dragged himself into suitable work clothes. The aggressive pout on Victor's face made Yuuri smirk, sliding himself to sneak into Victor's arms, separating the shirt he had been attempting to button. Nuzzling into Victor's neck, Yuuri's heart raced when he heard the pleased hum vibrate through his boyfriend. Finally feeling like he was getting somewhere, Yuuri discovered his own pout when Victor moved from his grasp.
Had anything ever been harder to resist than Yuuri Katsuki? Victor didn't think so. He knew Yuuri shouldn't exert himself, the doctor had been very clear about making sure Yuuri didn't push himself physically. He also knew that as soon as he crossed that line, Victor would lose the fight with himself and never talk with Yuuri about the all the issues he had spinning in his head. He wanted Yuuri, so badly it hurt, but he couldn't let himself go further than cuddles and kisses. Noting the irresistible poke of Yuuri's bottom lip, Victor sighed internally, leaning in to chastely kiss the pink pout, careful to keep his lower half from drawing flush to his favorite set of hips.
On his bedside table, Yuuri's phone rang, the picture of him and Isabella from her bachelorette party blinking up at him. Snagging the phone, Yuuri braced it against his shoulder, defiantly snapping the t-shirt from Victor's extended hand. He listened to Isabella's breathless request for help, transferring the request to Victor and Phicit to aid her in the transport of all her supplies. In all of the excitement, JJ and Isabella's wedding had snuck up on them all. There were favors to be made, seating charts to organize and final menus to review. Since Yuuri was confined to his home, and Isabella was destined to spend the day occupying him, it only seemed appropriate to knock out all the wedding loose ends.
He watched Victor and Phicit haul in boxes from Isabella's car with mild amusement, the amount of tulle and sticky notes making Yuuri wonder if there were any left in the whole of Russia. He wanted to help Isabella with her wedding tasks, eager to feel like he was contributing to the world, feeling lucky that he was still a part of it. Looping his sling back over his neck, Yuuri flexed his forearm by opening and closing his fist. There were still flashes of discomfort throughout his shoulder, and Yuuri gritted his teeth against them as he continued to twist his wrist. Even if no one believed him, Yuuri was determined to be out of his sling and fully active within the week, wanting to be the person that brought Isabella's dream wedding meal to life. To do that, he had to focus beyond the physical distress and use his mental fortitude to overcome his limitations. Phicit could handle the wedding preparations, but Yuuri wanted the honor of doing so.
With a last kiss from Victor and a one-sided hug from Phicit, Yuuri shut the door behind them, twirling on his heel to grin at Isabella. Releasing his arm from the sling, he trusted she wouldn't tattle on him to Victor, especially after her giggling wink in his direction. Settling on the floor, Yuuri carefully listened to all of her directions regarding the shiny packaged candies, which were to be tied into the colorful bags currently loose in a large box at his knees. There were also mini bottles of Russian liquor, planned to be tied with tiny Canadian flags, and little place cards decorated with the national flags and emblems of all the teams JJ had played on. Every detail was incredibly sweet and Yuuri found himself blissfully lost in Isabella's excited ramblings about her upcoming nuptials.
It was easy to let his mind take a quiet walk into the future as his fingers lazily pulled the miniature bag strings together. If it was his wedding, Yuuri would have chosen silver and blue, his two new favorite colors, and would want to hold the event in early spring, as the flowers would only be beginning to bloom. The symbolism in his thoughts made him smile, gathering more candies to slip into their fabric prisons. He could imagine Victor in a dark suit, accented by light blue flowers attached at the lapel and a contrast to Yuuri's white suit, adorned with similar blue flowers. Phicit would make a dashing best men, and he pursed his lips to stifle his chuckle following the image of his sister and Isabella in matching bridesmaids dresses. Mari would murder him for putting her in a dress, and he would love her even more because she would wear it solely because he asked her to.
He was blissfully unaware that he was humming as he worked, a faraway look not really seeing the room in front of him. It wasn't until Isabella poked him, raising a smirking eyebrow in his direction that he felt his cheeks flush. "Sorry," he stammered, burying his head in his hands, caught red-handed in his very detailed daydream. Yuuri had a sneaking suspicion that she would indulge his line of thinking, peeking through his fingers to witness her broad smile. Returning it, Yuuri set back to his work, embarrassment fleeting as he began asking Isabella additional questions about her big day. Two hours passed without either of them noticing, both of them stiff when the favors were finally completed and stowed away in their containers. Isabella's stomach growled, making them both jump, and she stood, moaning as she stretched her tightened muscles.
Yuuri followed suit, feeling the taut pull across his back, attempting to reveal the dull ache by stretching near the window. His sigh of longing echoed against the glass, a subtle wish to escape to the outdoors. Hearing the fridge door open, Yuuri moved to lean over the couch, considering Isabella's small, contemplative noises.
"Want to walk to the market? We could pick up some lunch, or stuff to make lunch?" Isabella sounded innocent, batting her eyes playfully, knowing the suggestion was in direct violation of the list of rules Victor and Phicit had provided her on their way out of the door. Yuuri eagerly nodded, rushing to his room to retrieve his tennis shoes, shoving his feet into them without socks and yanking open the front door. He was an excitable as a puppy waiting to go for a walk. "Sling," Isabella reminded him, pointing to the blue and white horror that chaffed his neck and made his elbow sweat. Swearing, Yuuri put his arm in place, begrudgingly acknowledging that the uncomfortable nature of the sling still wasn't a deterrent to finally escaping the constricting walls of his apartment. Together they rode the elevator, waltzing out into the summer sun, Yuuri feeling exuberant over his freedom.
They walked in silence for an entire block, Isabella repeatedly pulling Yuuri out of the way of hazards as he was mindlessly lifting his face to absorb the warmth of the sun. His headaches had faded to an annoying tingle, leaving him to concentrate on the relief of the breeze rushing over his skin. Throwing his good arm over Isabella's shoulders, he kissed her on the side of the head. "Thank you for letting me escape! I won't tell Victor!" He laughed when she nudged his side.
"You have become a bit of a bubble boy, I'm afraid," Isabella shifted the tote bags into her right hand so she could loop her left around Yuuri's waist.
Bubble boy felt like an accurate description and Yuuri swore in spite of himself. "I don't know why everyone keeps treating me like I am so weak. Victor would probably chew my food for me if he thought it would protect me from biting my cheek. Actually, don't tell him I said that, he might try." Yuuri huffed the bitterness from his chest. He had survived a crash into a rock wall and he was being treated like a toddler who fell down the stairs. It hadn't occurred to him how bitter it made him until he started saying it aloud, finding that once he started he couldn't stop. "You know they won't let me talk to the detectives? I know there have to be things going on with the investigation of the car, but no one will tell me. When anyone from the police department calls, Victors runs from the apartment, like even hearing about the crash will break me into a thousand pieces," Yuuri's brow clenched, his arm dropping from Isabella's shoulders to fling around wildly. "I'm not weak, Bells, I'm not! Victor froze, not me, I threw myself into the wall to save him. I don't need everyone treating me with kid gloves." Accenting his point was the loud thwap on his leg as his closed fist punched into his thigh.
"Yuuri, really?" Isabella stopped walking, grabbing his arm and yanking him to face her. "You think that everyone is acting this way because they think you are weak?"
"Yes?" Yuuri replied, starting to doubt himself due to her incredulous gawking. "Victor won't even sleep with me! We've only started dating, and he doesn't want to sleep with me. And it is not because the sex wasn't good the first through the fifth times, because trust me, it was really, really good sex," Yuuri's thoughts derailed a bit, causing his body to react making him shift self-consciously as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk. Finding the bitterness still fresh on his tongue, he continued his rant. "There is something not right there! Maybe he has changed his mind. Maybe he thinks that I cause him too much trouble," and there was the thought; the thought that had been itching at the back of his mind never fully forming until that moment. He had bottled all of these feelings inside, not wanting to upset Victor or Phicit after everything he had put them through, and they were starting to grind on his sanity, chipping away at what little of it he had left. That final thought though, the one that had Victor pushing him away because Yuuri brought too much drama into his life that was the thought that was now erected like a billboard in his mind's eye.
"I repeat," Isabella took a steadying breath, "Yuuri, really?" She was shaking her head at him and Yuuri could feel himself flustering, now convinced that he had overshared. "Look at me," Isabella squeezed his arm, angling her face to make sure he was looking at her as she spoke, "no one thinks you're weak." She let the statement hang in the air, letting it resonant with him. When she saw his shoulders relax, she pushed on. "Yurio and Minami have been talking about you like you are some sort of super hero. And Victor, he has actually called you his hero, more than once in the past few days." Isabella yanked her phone from her purse, making little noises as she thumbed through her texts. Clicking to a stream, she shoved it in Yuuri's face. "This is the group text between me, Mila, and Sara," she flicked her finger until she reached the day that he had completely lost, "read it."
He hesitated, only taking the phone when she lifted his hand and curled his fingers around it. Squinting at the screen in the bright sunlight, he began to thumb through the messages, tears beginning to prickle his eyes.
"Do you see the word weak anywhere in there?" Isabella's voice was stern, not allowing Yuuri any room to argue. "You see the words brave and strong, right? How thankful we all were and are that you were able to think so quickly? And you see how worried we were? Imagine how worried Victor was and Phicit too." He didn't look up, still staring at the phone in disbelief. Reaching over the screen, she clicked on another group chat, this time displaying messages between herself, Phicit, and Victor. These messages told another story and Yuuri felt a crushing twist in his chest. "Never mind, don't imagine it, read it for yourself."
There, blaring at him from a screen, were all the things Phicit and Victor weren't saying to him. How small he had looked in the hospital bed, how there had been a debate about his surgery due to the uncertainty of his head injury, and how relieved they all sounded when Victor reported that he had made it to recovery. The exclamations from Phicit when Yuuri had finally woken up in the hospital, followed by hearts from Isabella and weeping yellow faces from Victor. There were comments from Phicit, reporting the love and support from the restaurants regulars, even a few jokes about throwing him a welcome back party. Yuuri was exceptionally appreciative to see Isabella's vehement argument against that maneuver. Scrolling, he read the updates about the car, learning through Victor's disjointed texts that the brake line had been cut, although no finger prints had been found and no suspects were being pursed. There was a debate between the three of them about whether or not to tell Yuuri, and he felt a little betrayed by their decision to hold the information back from him. One message caught his attention, pausing with his thumb hovering over Victor's bubble.
I need to talk to him first, it read, I need to know where he stands. What if he hates me now?
Handing the phone back to Isabella, Yuuri stammered into the ground, unable to gather his thoughts into coherent sentences. When she tugged on his arm, he let her lead him to the market, head still reeling with everything he had read. "Why would I hate him?" He hadn't realized that he had vocalized the question until Isabella was answering it from the other side of a produce stall.
"Maybe because you wouldn't have been in that car if it wasn't for him?" She looked up when Yuuri made a snarling noise. "I'm not saying that is how anyone feels. I'm saying he might be thinking that. Guilt is a powerful emotion." Isabella replaced the long green stalk, selecting a plump eggplant instead. Yuuri didn't have a response for that. The accident wasn't Victor's fault, unless of course Victor had cut his own brakes which would be ridiculous. Sighing, Yuuri realized he was going to have to initiate a very emotional conversation with his boyfriend. Pushing that event aside in his mind, he moved to Isabella's side, removing the eggplant from her bag and replacing it with one he would actually choose as an ingredient. Deciding to let the conversation drop, and appreciating Isabella's thoughtfulness to the do the same, Yuuri threw himself into an afternoon of market shopping and seat chart organizing.
The problem with knowing that a conversation needs to happen is that it is far too easy to find ways to stall it. Yuuri knew he needed to talk to Victor. He knew he needed to reassure Victor that the accident wasn't his fault and that Yuuri had no intention of blaming or leaving him. He knew he needed to tell Victor that he didn't want to be babied, and instead wanted to return to all of the elated feelings from their first night together. He knew all of this, and snuggled into Victor's chest on Sunday morning, pretending to sleep right up until Victor had to leave to open the restaurant.
Victor knew he needed to talk to Yuuri. He knew he needed to be honest about the complications of the police investigation, particularly the interview Detective Pronin had requested and the results of the forensic analysis of the car. He knew that he had to tell Yuuri that Victor would understand if it was all too much, if Victor's complicated world was too much, and that Yuuri wasn't required to stay in it. He knew all of this, and suggested a movie marathon with Phicit on Monday, ordering egregious amounts of take out and wrapping them together under plush blankets on the couch.
When Tuesday arrived, blazing hot without a breeze to interrupt the stifling heat, a standoff ensued between Yuuri and his captors. His chef's jacket was already buttoned in place, his dark pants covering his legs and his work shoes shoved onto his feet, untied as a sign of his defiance of help. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Victor in his dress shirt and well-fitted slacks, and Phicit in his matching outfit to Yuuri's, they attempted to block him from the outside door of the apartment. They begged Yuuri to give it one more day. Yuuri, in turn, growled out threats, threatening to use physical violence to return to his kitchen. In the end, Yuuri had changed tactics, flaunting his big, brown, puppy dog eyes and begging them to let him try. If they wanted to treat him like a baby, Yuuri was going to use it to his advantage. Victor had cracked first under the wistful glimmer, Phicit gracefully conceding within seconds after. Feeling triumphant, Yuuri skipped to the elevator, leaning against the back wall with a smug look.
Victor pondered the unfairness of his boyfriend's ability to go from groin-affecting anger, to mind-bendingly adorable, to smugly sexy all in the span of ten minutes. He was well aware that he couldn't win the fight with Yuuri and gave himself points for even trying. Victor wanted to wipe the smug look off of Yuuri's face though, do so by bracketing him against the wall and kissing it from his lips. Phicit snapped a picture, hauling Victor backwards from the elevator as soon as it reached the lobby, whispering reminders about keeping Yuuri's physical excitement at bay. Phicit was right, of course, but it was becoming harder and harder to obey by that rule with each passing day.
Yuuri sauntered to the car, quite proud of himself for all of the battles he had already won, excited to return to the restaurant and recapture some of his normal life.
Nothing had gone to plan. It was far more frustrating than Yuuri had imagined to stand in his kitchen and be unable to perform even the most basic prep work. He had to stand idly by, biting his knuckles as Phicit was assisted by a young staffer who seemed determined to cut off his own fingers. Finally losing it, Yuuri had pulled Yurio from his dish bucket, shoving his hands in the sink to clean them and throwing his chef's jacket over the boy's shoulders. At least Yuuri knew that Yurio had been learning to prep under his guidance, and could chop ingredients up to his high standards. Grumping as he moved through the kitchen, sling now rubbing against his bare skin which was left exposed by his sleeveless undershirt, Yuuri made unnecessary adjustments to the plated dishes. Phicit was perfect in everything he was delivering, which was a blessing and a curse in that moment, leaving Yuuri nothing to fix and no outlet for his surging uselessness.
Standing against the doorjamb, Victor bit his bottom lip to hide his amusement at his raging chef. Yuuri looked like a ticked off toddler and Victor was actively restraining himself from threatening to spank him if he didn't settle down. There were little squawks and squabbles escaping Yuuri as he fussed with the straps of his sling, thundering through the kitchen like a man without a mission. Victor caught himself as his mind trickled over the beaded sweat on Yuuri's forehead and the rippling muscles across the strong shoulders, remembering the last time he had witnessed Yuuri with those exact traits. Subconsciously adjusting his position, Victor willed the thoughts away, clearing his throat and accidentally drawing Yuuri's attention to him. The fire burning deep within Yuuri's brown orbs did nothing to quell Victor's desire and he fled from the kitchen, smashing into Minami and finding himself sprawled on the floor, blinking stupidly at the ceiling.
"This is never going to end," Yuuri squatted down beside him, head tilted in playful consideration, "where you going in such a hurry, boss?" Yuuri's eyes trailed down his body, and Victor could feel his teasing in all the ways Yuuri intended him to feel it. Feeling the tension ease in his shoulders, Yuuri offered his hand to Victor, staggering and falling backwards when Victor sprang to his feet without assistance.
"You two are a disaster," Otabek noted dryly, stepping over Yuuri's chest to carry a tray heavy with food out into the dining room.
"You really are," Aniya remarked through the swinging kitchen doors, "but, man, am I glad to have your combined ridiculousness back in action." She shoved a tray into Georgi's hands as he winked at her. "This place has been seriously void of any slap stick comedy."
In spite of everything, Yuuri found himself laughing, back flat on the floor, shoulder aching from the swift contact. He let Victor pull him to his feet, purposefully stumbling forward into his arms. "Hey," Yuuri fluttered his eyelashes, "I like you." He poked Victor playfully in the chest, reaching up to kiss him. His face collided with the wall as Victor dodged his advance.
Panicking, Victor fled from the hallway as Yuuri flung what he hoped were joking curses at him. He had juked the kiss, knowing that even a glance of Yuuri's lips was going to do him in, his body buzzing with excitement simply from having Yuuri back in the kitchen where he belonged. Victor had been worked up from the moment he had kissed Yuuri in the elevator at the apartment, and couldn't afford anymore contact, lest he lose control and drag Yuuri into his office and over his desk, the way he had been imagining since the day they first met. Frantically shoving that thought away, Victor raced for Chris at the bar, snatching the offered whiskey and drinking it while Chris laughed at him.
Frustrating settling back in, Yuuri rubbed his nose, slamming back into his kitchen prepared to expel all his wrath on whatever idiots got in his way.
Pure defiance had Yuuri proclaiming that his shoulder did not hurt on their ride back to the apartment. He saw glances exchanged between Victor and Phicit, narrowing his eyes at both of them as they pulled into the parking space. Maybe, just maybe, his shoulder had started to unbearably throb two hours into the night, but there was no chance he was going to tell them that. If they wanted to continue to baby someone, there were going to have to find another victim to torture, or a real baby.
Stomping into their apartment, Yuuri headed straight for his shower, flinging his sling onto the bathroom counter with a clink. He heard Phicit wish Victor good luck and wondered if it was his mood or his intentions that Phicit was paying attention to. Yuuri was not going to let Victor avoid him any longer. They didn't have to talk tonight, his brain not feeling up for the task if he was honest, but he was going to release some tension, with or without Victor's help. Peeling his sweaty clothes from his body, Yuuri stepped into the warm water, letting it run over him, smiling at his feet when he heard the bathroom door open. Seconds later, Victor was with him, gently massaging his back and leaving a trail of kisses on his skin. Delicate fingers worked the shampoo into his scalp, and Yuuri allowed himself to relax into the touch, this now being as much of a routine as brushing their teeth together twice a day. He would miss not having to wash himself when he had two working arms; that definitely being the only thing he would miss. Rotating his upper half, Yuuri brushed a kiss to Victor's cheek as he flexed the muscles in his back, easing the soreness. Without so much as a blush, Victor began washing his body, ignoring the way Yuuri was lightly pressing back against him in a maddeningly deliberate maneuver.
It was driving Yuuri insane.
As he watched Victor wash his own body, Yuuri let his thoughts spiral, finally stepping from the shower in exasperation. Roughly drying himself, he moved from the bathroom, securing the towel around his waist in stubborn refusal to cover himself with clothes. He couldn't share a bed with Victor for another night without being properly touched. The quiet embraces throughout the sleeping hours, the careful caresses in the shower, and the sad hue to Victor's blue eyes every time they took in Yuuri's sling, had Yuuri convinced that he was going to lose his mind. Every word, every action spoke of love, but the one thing Yuuri needed was to feel alive. He didn't need to be cherished and babied, he needed the physical reassurance of life, wanting the reassurance in a very specific way.
When he returned to the restaurant that night, he was frustratingly restricted to delegating tasks that he would normally perform himself, standing in the middle of his kitchen, directing the action instead of leading it. Everyone treated him like an injured animal, delicately accepting his harsh criticism of their efforts, refusing to fight back against him. His dominant arm still moved freely, and yet Yuuri had felt frustration staining every one of his nerves, making them raw on the surface of his skin.
Everything in his life felt emasculating; his inability to prep his own dishes at work, his limitations when it came to dressing himself, and especially the way everyone treated him like an incapable blob, bending to his aid when the last thing he wanted was help. Yuuri was much stronger than they were giving him credit for and he was tired of being babied, even if it had only been for a few days. It didn't matter what the text messages Isabella had shown him said, he had to prove the strength to himself, and to everyone else in turn.
Taking a seat on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him, Victor watched as Yuuri, clad only in a towel, furiously paced the room, sling pulled tight between his flexing fists. His Yuuri, who was always quick to blush and clumsy when flustered, was all fire now, storming over the carpet like a man ready to snap. The towel barely clung to the bare, damp hips, and it was impossible ignore the incredible stimulation of Yuuri's taut muscles as he raged incoherently about the small space. Victor's eyes were filled with curiosity as he observed another part of his boyfriend, the lower half of his body growing with the same curiosity as Yuuri's towel slipped further apart. The sling slammed against the far wall as Yuuri flung it with his good arm, dark eyes turning to pin Victor to the bed.
There were no words on his lips as Yuuri stalked toward the one person he wanted most. He wasn't weak, he wasn't broken, and he didn't need to be coddled simply because he had been injured. Letting his eyes smolder over the outstretched legs, Yuuri followed their path with a firm press of his fingers, shoving Victor's ankles apart as Yuuri grazed the inside of his legs, fingers gripping in all the most sensitive places. If Victor wasn't going to willing break his need to treat Yuuri as if he was made of glass, Yuuri was going to prove to him how much he could really take. Fueled by the desire that Yuuri could see Victor was desperately trying to suppress, Yuuri seized the edge of his towel and threw it across the room, hearing it hit the wall with a dull thud. Making sure Victor's eyes were locked on his, Yuuri deliberately slowed his pace, running light fingers up the remaining portion of Victor's thigh before lifting his knee to slide onto his boyfriend's lap.
The breath was knocked from Victor's chest. Yuuri's weight pinned his butt to the mattress, back pressed tight to the headboard as Yuuri leaned toward him. Warm lips ghosted against Victor's ear, the sensation of the edge of Yuuri's tongue tracing his neck a breath below his earlobe had Victor moaning in approval. Sliding his hands up Yuuri's chest, Victor pushed him back, chuckling when Yuuri scowled back at him. "Yuuri," Victor crooned, killing himself with what he needed to say, "the doctor says you need to rest." A groan ripped through Victor's torso as Yuuri swiftly gathered his wrists and slammed them above Victor's head against the cold wood of the headboard.
"Screw the doctor," Yuuri growled, the want now pooled so tightly inside of him that he began to feel the explosion reaching nuclear levels. Leaning into the still clothed chest, Yuuri tipped his mouth back to Victor's ear, "actually," he left a wet trail around the rim, "screw me." He sucked the lobe into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue as he rolled his hips slow and grinding into Victor's lap. Releasing his love's wrists, Yuuri set out to remove Victor's shirt one-handed. "You are wearing far too many clothes for my liking," Yuuri grasped the front of Victor's shirt, awkwardly yanking it up and off to expose Victor's chest. His nipples were hard, presenting themselves an easy target for the quick swipe of Yuuri's tongue, causing Victor's mouth to fall open in a gasp. The sight did nothing to dissuade Yuuri from wanting to take everything Victor would give him.
He might be dying, Victor decided, breath coming out in short puffs as he lost all control, feeling more turned on than he ever had in his life. Letting his head fall back, Victor lent his own hand to assist Yuuri in sliding down his sweat pants, breath sucking in as Yuuri moved lower over his body, dragging the fabric from his long legs, inch by painstaking inch. He wanted to take care of Yuuri, to nurse him back to health without throwing any of his desires onto him for fear of hampering his recovery. As he breathlessly watched Yuuri move over him, a mess of black hair leading the assault on all of Victor's senses, he gave into the need to touch and be touched.*
Yuuri hummed happily to himself as he lay across the bed, ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder to relish in the satisfied feeling lapping over his body. He had never imagined that sex could feel the way it did with Victor, and he knew that there was a chance that he was now addicted to the feeling. Chuckling at the thought, he flung his hand toward his phone on the nightstand, continuing to smile as he opened Instagram feeling Victor wrap himself around the right side of Yuuri's body like a touch-starved octopus. He kissed the part in Victor's hair, heart fluttering as he spied Victor's reactive smile dancing over his sleep slacked face. He decided to forgive Victor for treating him like he was broken and delicate, appreciating that Victor had spent the better part of an hour doing the exact opposite once Yuuri had pressed his buttons. It would definitely be an action that Yuuri would be repeating in the future, thoroughly enjoying all the lingering sensations as his body started to settle.
He thumbed through Instagram, careful to keep his shoulder in a supported position with his phone resting against his sternum. He never had the chance to see all of the pictures from the party and he wanted to relive that night, the night before the world quite literally came crashing in. He smiled at his own account, remembering Victor's endearing reaction to his picture of the party, placing another kiss on the silver part currently nestled on his good shoulder. Chris's pictures were his next binging victims, Yuuri having to stifle his giggles over Chris's hilarious captions. Victor had taken a few of his own, including one that had Yuuri blushing, a view of his own body, sporting only swim trunks, highlighted in front of the glass of Victor's patio doors. Victor had hashtagged it "solucky" and "lookatthatbody" making Yuuri's cheeks and ears catch simultaneously on fire. The mischievous comments of their friends were even more excruciating and Yuuri hastily moved on to Phicit's account. He searched through all of the new pictures, only barely resisting the urge to race to one in particular. Finally reaching it, Yuuri brought it up, grin breaking over his face as he stared at his own body, with Victor wrapped around him, cheerfully waving at Phicit from beside the brick grill in Victor's backyard.
Hey, he text to Phicit, despite his best friend only being in the next room.
Hey back, Phicit responded, the three dots reappearing immediately, are you done in there? I put on noise cancelling headphones AND hid in my closet AND put a pillow over my head and I could still hear you. #getitkatsuki.
The flames were back on Yuuri's cheeks as he flicked back to Phicit's Instagram, taking a closer look at Phicit's most recent selfie. Phicit was indeed wearing the headphones, appearing to be sitting in the dark with a pillow on his head. "GetitKatsuki," "TheyWontBeAbleToWalkTomorrow," and "YouWouldntBelieveHowLoudTheyAre" were all tagged below the picture.
Groaning, Yuuri tapped out another text with his thumb. I cannot believe you posted that!
Yes you can, was Phicit's rapid response, making Yuuri snicker.
ANYWAY, Yuuri's hand was starting to cramp from the position of his phone, any chance you could send me that picture of me and V from the party? I want to use it as my lock screen.
D'awwwww, Phicit added a dozen blushing smiley faces and blue hearts to his reply, saving himself from being strangled in his sleep by immediately forwarding the requested picture.
Thanks, P, Yuuri stared at the picture, trying to memorize every detail. He wasn't a big fan of pictures of himself, but maybe pictures of him and Victor would be different. Using his thumb and his pointer finger, he zoomed in, repositioning the enlarged image over their faces.
He stared, heart restricting in his chest at the unedited picture on his phone. In the forefront, he and Victor were wrapped together, the picture of devotion and happiness, but it was the background that caught his eye. Next to Victor's car was a distinct outline of a man that Yuuri would recognize anywhere; a man Yuuri had personally thrown from Nikiforov's a mere ten days prior. The crooked nose, long ponytail and hard eyes were unmistakable as Celestino crouched over Victor's car, unaware that his presence was being inadvertently captured in the background of his victims.
Sliding from the bed, Yuuri repressed the urge to throw up, instead walking to retrieve Victor's phone from the other side of the room. Scrolling through the contacts, he identified the one he needed, dialing the number while slipping from the bedroom. It took four rings for the man to pick up, Yuuri's heartrate increasing with each one, hoping that the detective was still on the nightshift. At the end of the gruff greeting, Yuuri swallowed his nerves and spoke clearly with firm command dominating his voice, "Detective Pronin, this is Yuuri Katsuki, chef at Nikiforov's. I need to see you immediately."
* GUUUYYYYSSSSSS this is the closest to smut that I have ever written. There MIGHT be a complete scene, which I cut from this chapter when I realized there were younger readers following it. I might be persuaded to post it somewhere if people really want to see it. Open to your opinion on whether I should or not!