A/N: Here is the playlist I listen to while writing:

user/121632263/playlist/0nCEicGR7oFq5oxCwNL26E

This wasn't the first time the world had fallen out from under Viktor, but it was the first time someone was leaning on him.

He knew what to do when Yuuri was anxious—they went somewhere new, somewhere quiet, found a distraction. Flirting usually worked. But now, that all seemed like an awful idea. Taking him away from his family, and his home after a stressful day and a half away… What was there to do? This was not Viktor's default state. He had neglected love for 20 years, after all. Whatever Yuuri had inspired in im had yet to grow strong enough to hold both of them up. At least, that's what Viktor thought. If he couldn't be Yuuri's family and support system, then he could be selfish. He scooped Yuuri up, just as he had done the first night they had met. This time, however, Yuuri was awake. This time, he did not limply hang in the Russian Olympian's arms, nearly slipping away. He stared up, his soft brown eyes wide and red and still shiny from tears, his lips parted in surprise. But he moved closer, sliding his arms around Viktor's neck and pressing his face into the curve of where his shoulder met his neck. Every nerve in Viktor's body sang, along with his heart. He lifted his gaze from Yuuri to look up, surprised he still had a heart to react.

He had forgotten (not completely, but mainly their presence) of Yuuri's family. In Russia, and likely, in Japan, this was much more than what a coach did. He hated the culture in Russia, but knew nothing of it in Japan. What had he done to Yuuri, so selfishly picking him up? Seducing him? Viktor's blood ran colder, but when he actually dared to look, the world decided to surprise him instead.

Hiroko was smiling brightly, teary-eyed, her hands clasped together. Toshiya, Yuuri's father, looked tired, but happy….and not at all surprised. Mari did not look impressed or shocked in the slightest, and even had her smartphone out to snap a picture.

Yuri…. His expression was hard to read. He has turned, scuffing his toe along the gravel driveway idly.

"Yuuri… what do you want…to do?" Viktor said carefully, looking down again. Yuuri held on tightly, his face pressed to Viktor's neck, but his breathing was evening out, and the sobs slowly disappeared.

"I want you to do what you did earlier… while I'm awake…" He mumbled, his cheeks warming with the flush of a blush.

Phichit had been wise when he had pulled off Yuuri's leg prosthetics that night in the hotel. Navigating the doorways without banging legs—flesh or metal—was difficult. Even though Yuuri did his best to shrink in Viktor's arm, he wasn't in the position to adjust the ankles. He had almost laughed at Viktor's face when he reached the narrow stairs, loudly banging Yuuri's ankle on the wood paneling.

"I didn't feel a thing." Yuuri said, holding back a shaking smile at Viktor's paper-white face. "I promise." They reached Yuuri's bedroom, and Viktor shrunk onto it. He sat there, intending to give Yuuri most of it, when the man pulled his legs onto the bed with him. Yuuri crawled on top of Viktor, slowly and carefully, pausing, face to face with him.

"Sorry, I just wanted you to—"

Viktor cut him off with a kiss, like he had shyly requested downstairs. Yuuri was just as surprised as he had been on the ice yesterday. This time, however, he reacted; closing his eyes, tilting his head and pressing back, moving his lips against Viktor's. His heart leapt into the throat, and Viktor hungrily kissed him more, taking Yuuri's bottom lip and biting it gently, scraping his teeth against it. He tasted soft and sweet, the traces of Viktor's favorite drink between them. He kissed him again, and Yuuri shyly returned the favor, more carefully than Viktor had.

Viktor stopped, cursing his brain for taking over. For making him wonder if this was too much. Yuuri, after all, had only asked for a kiss, and Viktor was ready to go far beyond that.

Yuuri melted, sliding down Viktor's body and covering his red face. He melted against Viktor, close enough that he could feel Yuuri's pound through his back, and Yuuri could feel Viktor's. He could feel the metal of Yuuri's lower legs bite into his own skin, the rubber soles of the shoes he had neglected to take off at the entrance to the home.

Apologies fought to push past Viktor's teeth, but he swallowed them back. He closed his eyes, taking in every sense of Yuuri against him.

Yuuri jerked, stiffening.

"Viktor, I'm sorry—"

"What for?"

He felt tears splatter onto the hand that had wound against Yuuri's stomach on top of him.

"I couldn't tell—you should've said.."

"What? Yuuri, you had no idea about the—"

Yuuri moved, jerkily pulling off his prosthetics, struggling.

"Yuuri, what are you doing?" Viktor shifted underneath Yuuri, feeling lost when Yuuri slid off him. He felt a light tingle and warmth in his calves. He glanced at them, and at his ankles—a red mark from Yuuri's soles, were the blood was rushing back to the flesh.

"I can't feel anything, but I know better." Yuuris voice shook as he tugged at his leg in vain, more tears dropping from his cheeks and into his lap.

"Yuuri, I would have told you if it hurt, these things happen!" Viktor was trying desperately to calm him down, wishing to go back to the bliss and warmth of their two bodies together.

"Yuuri…." Viktor pleaded, when he went quiet. After months of fights and tears and Yuuri messily yelling at Viktor to tell him what to do, it was when he was quiet when it was the worst.

Viktor slid off the bed, tip toeing around Vicchan and Makkachin, who had been booted to the carpet below. He moved to the foot of the bed, taking Yuuri's prosthetic and pulling it off. He took off the other, before gently rolling off the socks and liner that protected the remaining limbs.

"What're you doing, Viktor?" Yuuri warbled through a hiccup, his eyebrows pressing together, his thick eyelashes wet and sticking together.

"Yuuri… I want you to love you as much as I do."

Viktor said softly as he ran his hand from the scar at the end of what was left of his leg , up Yuuri's thigh. " Yuuri's mind, Yuuri's body… Yuuri's legs." He said softly, leaning down and kissing the scars. Viktor heard Yuuri's breathing stop as he kissed Yuuri's knees, closing his eyes.

"The only way you can hurt me is if you turn me away."

There was a sharp sob as Yuuri gasped for air. "Stupid!" He wailed. "Why would I ever do that?" Viktor felt Yuuri's hands beat the back of his head, and he looked up, blinking away the blurriness that flooded his eyes.

"You're crying…" Yuuri whispered, deer in the headlights. He reached out, tenderly sweeping Viktor's bangs away from his face

"I'm happy."

"Happy?" He had every right to question it, after all. How was he happy, this day, of all days?

"Happy that I have you, Yuuri."

"Not as happy as me," Yuuri swallowed nervously. "Vitya." He finished shyly.

"Vitenka." Viktor corrected, "Not just friends. Love." He watched as Yuuri's expression went from embarrassment, to shock.

"Vitenka." Yuuri repeated, diving forward to Viktor—his weight pushed them back onto the floor, Viktor's back hitting the carpet. Vicchan barked, but Makkachin only lifted her head and gave a knowing look. Neither moved.