CHAPTER SIX HUNDRED NINETEEN

Despite all the sleep, Yuri's eyes felt swollen when the alarm woke him up. He could barely open them to look for whichever phone was beeping. Having the dogs piled up around him didn't help either. Thankfully - and perhaps he should've expected as such - Viktor walked over to click the alarm off.

"Awake this time?" He mused, and silenced the device. He crawled up onto the bed just enough to lean over and set a peck down on his husband's brow, "When the first round didn't make you budge, I figured I'd let you sleep a bit longer. You look like you could still cook a bit more though."

"Do I?" Yuri wondered, only to realize how awfully congested he was, "Ah jeebe..."

Viktor huffed a laugh and pat the man's head before sliding back off the edge of the bed again, "You've somehow hidden all that snot in your noggin. The meds are going to force them out though, my love."

"But nhow I jus' feel eben sicker dan bebore..."

"Mayhaps you were experiencing the calm before the storm." Viktor suggested, and found the plush-toy tissue box in his gear bag to toss it over, "You'll feel better once you've blown your nose though, I bet."

Yuri pushed up onto an elbow and reached across to grab a few tissues, then sat up and hunched over his lap, "Ugh...I feel sho shore, too... I dhot meds would helb me beel better, not worsh..."

"Getting all the crud out will feel gross, yes." The Russian answered, "But maybe the fact that you didn't get into the Free Skate has let you lower your defenses, too."

"Holbing obff my cold by beer forsh of bill, all ndis thime..." He surmised. The evacuation of Yuri's sinuses was every bit as wet and sloppy as could be imagined, and he reached for another wad of tissues to clean up after the first failed to be enough. He groaned sadly with the two bundles on the blankets over his lap, "This is so sad." He said, his voice more clear for the moment, "I dreamt my Short Program over again, but without being sick, and despite it, I didn't break 100." He laughed and shook his head, "I guess I've disappointed myself enough to give up."

"It's not a surrender." Viktor reassured, "You've been forced to stop so you can recover. Honestly, if you'd made it to the Free Skate and were still this sick, I wouldn't have let you compete."

"Ehhh?" Yuri gasped and sat up, stunned, "How can you say that!?"

"The harder you push yourself in this condition, the longer it'll take for you to get healthy again." He clarified, "Two weeks from now, we'll have already done the entire Men's part of the Team Skate; Short and Free. I can get Japan on the podium on my own here at Four Continents, but I need your skill for the Team Skate. We all do."

Yuri hesitated, but then cracked a nervous smile, "You're just saying that because you don't want to win with Asahi instead."

Viktor leered grimly, "That is...also a reason." He admitted, looking aside slightly, "Yeah."

"I get it..." Yuri nodded, but then flopped down to his back again, "I can already see us walking on the opposite side of the parade from him during Opening Ceremonies. I know you can't stand the idea of sharing a podium with him at all." He said idly, then turned his head on a pillow to look at his bristling partner, "What can we do though? Team Japan will be sharing a dorm together. No matter what we do, we'll be near to him."

"Team Japan is more than just the JSF." Viktor answered simply, "Even if the number of athletes going for Japan is half that as it's been for Russia in the past, there'll be plenty of room to avoid one another." He explained, but then shook the tense feeling from his frame and stood normally again, "Anyway. I'd like for you to stay here while I do practice this morning."

"Eh?"

"There's no good reason to drag you all the way to the arena and back again just to watch." He said, and zipped-up his gear bag, "So be a burrito until I get back, okay?"

.

With the pack at his sides, and a blanket wrapped all 'round, Yuri watched the SUV slip down the rotunda and out onto the main road...without him. Minako pat his head through the layers before she nudged him back from the step so the door could be closed.

"I know you'd rather go with him, but this is for the best," She attempted, "But he's not going alone, so we're together in that, too, I suppose."

Yuri just deadpanned as he was shuffled further inside, "Why would Mikhail even want to go to practice? It's not like there's anything for him to do there."

"Viktor's only going to be on the ice for a short time out of the total, so I wager he plans on using the rest of that time for his own ends." Minako explained, "Which is odd, considering we all just lectured each other last night about spending more time with our partners..."

"...Lectured...?" Yuri echoed in confusion, and turned to walk backwards as his former instructor continued to guide him wherever they were going, "When did...? Why?"

"He said you were already asleep, and that he wasn't tired yet." She shrugged and wheeled him to the right, through the door and past the spiral stair that went up the circular tower, "It wouldn't be the first time he's come seeking opinions without you though. He came to my old Snack Bar once to ask about you, after all."

"I know, I know..."

"I think he's getting used to the idea of what Papa means, at any rate." She went on, then nudged the man left and into the dining room, only to pause within the doorframe and make a weird face, "...I really hope he doesn't see me like some surrogate mother though."

Yuri sputtered and choked on a cough, losing the blanket from the top of his head as he tried to regain himself.

"That's not funny, Yuri!"

"I know!" He repeated again, "I'm not laughing! I'm agreeing with you! You've fangirled over him for as long as I can remember! If he started calling you 'Mama Minako' or something, it'd be weird as Hell!"

That utterance sent a cold shiver down the woman's spine and she reeled against it, "You know just what to say to give me the chills...ugh." She grumbled, but then finally shook the whole weird situation away and pointed at a chair that had been pulled back from the table, "Alright...you need to sit. I'm under strict orders to make sure you eat properly."

"...Strict orders? From who?"

"Practically everyone."

.

Viktor scrolled through Instagram in stone-cold silence the entire way to the arena. Reactions to the previous day's unexpected audience 'participation' were hitting social media hard. Many couldn't comprehend the negative countenance, but the more pessimistic members of the fandom propped it up to jealousy or Russian vengeance.

'This is how they act after forcing Victor's retirement? By acting like spoiled brats?'

'They're just trying to drag him down, to join them at their own level, because he's still getting to go to the Games and they've been benched. Serves them right. They're getting what they gave to him.'

'I bet they'll try to say Viktor did drugs before, like the rest of those sore losers.'
'There's no way they could get away with that. They could never prove it.'
'They wouldn't have to. Just suggesting it would be enough to cast doubt.'

'He should never have left Russia! If he'd just stayed where he was supposed to be, none of this would've ever happened! The Viktor I know WON medals! He didn't give them away!'

'Katsuki wasn't worth any of this trouble.'
'I guess you take the phrase 'married to your work' way too literally.'

He felt the SUV come to a slow stop, and looked up from his phone to spot the front entrance to the arena. Mikhail's curious face came right after.

"You look sour all of a sudden."

"The way Russia's behaved since I forfeited my Gold at the Final has been...questionable at best. Petty and vindictive even." He answered, and shuffled his way for the open side-door to step outside. He took his bag as it was handed to him, and slung it over one shoulder as his uncle came out after him, "Maybe it wouldn't seem so bad if I wasn't reading all the reactions from the skating fans though."

"I avoid message boards where I can. They're bad for you." Mikhail agreed, and pulled up the lapels of his jacket to brace against the cold, "Without the voices of the crowd, all that's happened is that the RSF fired you for giving away a medal, the JSF hired you because why the Hell wouldn't they? And then the Russians were summarily banned from the Olympics by the IOC for stuff that's been going on for decades...and not just in figure skating."

Viktor managed a wry smile, "But I escaped the ban by the skin of my teeth. The JSF should've put me under review or something as soon as the ban became public." He pointed out, and the pair moved towards the doors, "Instead, they're acting like a buffer between me and the scandal."

"You don't think they should?"

"I don't know what I think they should do." He answered, and shook his head; his sigh came out as a fog in the biting cold air, "I guess I just empathize with those still performing for Russia. Since it's not fair that the IOC banned all of them in one grand, sweeping gesture, but I escaped by circumstance alone... I wonder if I should self-suspend until the whole thing is sorted out."

"I wouldn't do anything like it." Mikhail advised, and reached for the door-handle to pull the panel open, "You serve at the pleasure of the JSF. You don't have the luxury of making decisions about your skating right now."

Viktor made a weird face at the man, "That doesn't sound pleasant."

"You're a slave that loves his shackles. Try to be okay with it."

"...I guess this just isn't how I expected my last year or two in skating to go."

"According to Yuri, you'd already be done if not for him."

"Well...that's half true..." Viktor corrected.

"Half?" The elder echoed, only to shake his head in realization, "Ah, before you went to Japan, you hadn't yet decided to retire officially yet."

"I did give Yuri and Yuiro two of the programs I'd planned for the following season." Viktor reminded, "I think I would've called it a day after that though. Maybe."

"Stepping aside before the Games?"

"I think I would've been too tired to keep going." The young silver admitted, and followed the marked path for athletes to get to the prep area, "I read a comment that Yuri wasn't worth all the trouble I've dealt with since taking off to coach him. That the person I used to be wouldn't have given up my own future for anyone else's. I feel like people forget I'm still human sometimes."

"You spent a long time trying to convince Yuri of just that, didn't you?" Mikhail wondered, and flashed his sponsor's badge after the event staffers let Viktor through without even asking for his, "I mean, you've commented before that he was distant from you for months."

"I guess so. Well..." Viktor paused, but then shook his head, and looked around the open space to find a spot to set his things down, "Maybe that's not entirely true. At least not specifically for that. Yuri figured out fairly quickly that I'm just a normal person, despite the accolades... It was just the process of getting to know each other that took the longest. He had no idea why I was really there, since he'd forgotten Sochi, so our introduction was somewhat...protracted."

"Ah."

"Maybe I'll just stay off social media for a while." Viktor continued idly, "You're right... If not for what the fans are saying, there's really nothing to talk about. What happens with Russia isn't my problem or my business anymore. I have to do my best for my new masters. And..."

"...And?" Mikhail quirked a brow under the lip of his flatcap.

"Get some answers for my baby sister, and put your weary heart to rest."

The elder's face went red, "You're going too far too fast. It'll give me a heart attack faster than anything Beka could do might."

Viktor just laughed, "Why do you say that? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Who cares what I wanted?" Mikhail retorted, "I was already happy enough that you weren't mad at me anymore. You're turning up the heat to max after coming out of the freezer with me."

"I guess I am... Maybe I'm just bored of being ticked-off about things. Most of the last year has been a never-ending struggle. It got so bad that a small gesture from Yuri actually made me think he was giving his ring back." Viktor explained, and sat down to start unlacing his fancy snow-boots, "I want to feel like things are working out finally. I'm in a good place with my skating, in spite of everything else. Yuri and I are doing really well, and he still hasn't given me any reason to believe he's going to switch-on over the Free Skate today...so... That gives me the strength I need to do well today for him. In the end, everything boils down to him... The reason I quit, the reason I came back, the reason I'm still here...and he started all this because he thought it would do me well to have some of my own family around."

Mikhail listened closely, his heart pounding, but he wasn't sure what to say, if anything. He watched his nephew count on his fingers.

"It's been...just over three weeks since our ceasefire in Imari, and almost two since I called you Papa at Euros."

"...It feels like it's been an eternity, honestly."

"Yeah, so it's been a really long time!" Viktor laughed, "I don't think I'm going too fast if it feels like it took forever to get here."

Mikhail grumbled, but nodded as he rubbed his head through his hat, "...I guess so. Still. It's really not even been a month. That's...oddly unsettling."

"It's as if everything stood still for a long time, and then slipped through our fingers like sand, all at once." Viktor surmised, "Maybe it's just that the blockage was finally cleared and things are going back to how they should've been all along." He added, and pulled on his first skate. He looked up for a moment, and as if by providence, spotted Otabek on the far side of the room. He huffed a quiet laugh and looked back own to tie his laces, "Target acquired."