Written for sick days a few years ago and for an anon request for a sick trans Yurio. Set post canon. Content warning for vomit and hospitals. Enjoy!


"Now, you two don't get into any trouble while I'm gone," Victor says lightly. He's traveling to Moscow for a meeting with some sponsors, leaving Yuuri and Yuri to fend for themselves. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Without looking up from his game, Yuri responds, raising an eyebrow. "We wouldn't want to anything you would do, either. Remember that time you and Chris decided to go caroling in the middle of July?"

"We were drunk!" Victor protests, his voice going an octave higher. "Anyway, the point is, you two have fun while I'm gone, but not too much fun, okay?"

He gives Yuuri a peck on the cheek and attempts to hug Yuri goodbye, but the teenager dodges out of the way just in time, rolling his green eyes in annoyance. "Bye! See you in three days!"

"Goodbye, Victor!" Yuuri calls after him before the door shuts. Yuri waves halfheartedly before stalking off to his room, muttering under his breath about how sappy those two are and how disgusting it is. Yuuri just assumes that he's in a bad mood today.

Truthfully, Yuri hasn't been feeling very well at all since he woke up. He's nauseous and his stomach has been cramping all morning-it's either some sort of a mild stomach bug or a sign of his period coming soon (joy!). Either way, hopefully some sleep will help. He'll probably wake up in the morning feeling way better.

It only takes a few hours to realize how horribly wrong he is.

Yuri is jolted awake out of a dead sleep by a feeling of overwhelming nausea. He scrambles out of bed, his limbs tangling in the sheets as he attempts to make a mad dash to the bathroom. He doesn't make it to the toilet in time; instead, he hunches over the sink as his entire frame trembles with a deep gag. Within seconds of being awake he's heaving up what seems like an endless stream of bile.

He retches and gags for what seems like an eternity before he's finally empty, reduced to painful dry heaves that scrape out his throat and make his eyes water. His knees buckle and send him crashing to the floor-he can feel cold sweat trickling down his neck as he attempts to get his breathing under control.

The cramping is worse than before; a sharp pain that feels like knives are stabbing into the lower right side of his stomach. He's aware that something is really wrong, and that he should definitely call for help, but he doesn't have the energy or the strength to try. Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall and breathes shakily, trying to make the pain go away through sheer willpower.


Yuuri can't believe that it took less than 24 hours for something to go horribly wrong.

A sensation similar to icy fingers making their way up and down his spine has him sitting bolt upright in bed. He squints at the clock, confused when it reads 3:13 AM. Why is he even awake?

There's an uneasy feeling deep in his gut; something is horribly wrong. Yuuri moves without making any conscious decision about where to go, making his way down the hallway and into the shared bathroom. His unease gets stronger as he pushes open the door. It's unlocked.

Inside, Yuri is sprawled out on the floor, curled into the fetal position, unconscious, his face pinched with pain. His face is deathly pale and there are dried tear tracks on his face. Yuuri freezes, horrified, until a weak, pained groan from Yuri sets him into action.

Somehow he manages to find his phone and call an ambulance. While he relays the situation to the emergency center, he threads his fingers through Yuri's hair, squeezing the younger skater's hand occasionally. Yuri doesn't respond except to occasionally shift his position or let out a moan of pain.

The ride to the hospital is a blur; Yuuri doesn't remember much from it besides the original diagnosis of "appendicitis" and the call to the hospital to prep for surgery.

When they arrive at the hospital, Yuri is whisked away for surgery and Yuuri is sent to wait in the waiting room and given a pile of paperwork to fill out. He's never been so grateful for his Russian lessons that he took in college as he does his best to provide the requested information and sign off wherever signatures are required. One thing is bothering him, though.

"Why does it say that Yuri is female on his medical records?" Yuuri asks the desk attendant, frowning and squinting at the aforementioned files.

She takes the paper and takes a look for herself. "Yuri Plisetsky, is it?" Yuuri nods. "Yes, we've been meaning to correct that, but the paperwork must not have gone through yet. I'll let them know about that," she says, jotting a note down on a slip of paper. "Is that all?" she asks, looking at Yuuri expectantly.

He hastily nods and steps back to his mountain of forms, hastily scribbling down the last few bits of information that he needed. It makes sense, in a way; Yuri's resistance to being seen as cute or beautiful, his reluctance to go in the public baths in Hasetsu, and his insistence on being called Yuri instead of Yurio. He feels a pang of guilt and makes a note to himself to only call Yuri by his given name since it bothers him so much. No more Yurio.

After finishing the rest of the paperwork, Yuuri waits around for another hour before a nurse comes out to talk to him. "The surgery was a success," she announces. "Yuri is in stable condition and resting. He's doing much better now, and he should be able to go home in a few days."

"That's good to hear," Yuuri sighs in relief. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. I'll show you to his room. He should be waking up soon."

Sure enough, within minutes of arriving at Yuri's hospital room, the teenager is stirring awake with a groan. His green eyes flicker open slowly, darting around the room before finding Yuri. "'m in a hospital?" he asks groggily. Yuuri nods, and he groans in response.

"You were very sick. I called an ambulance and they found that you had appendicitis, and they took you to the hospital to have it removed."

"I hate hospitals," Yuri mutters petulantly, sounding a bit more awake now. "When can I get out of this place?" he demands, folding his arms carefully across his chest to avoid tugging on the IV.

"Well the surgery went well and I got all the paperwork filled out, so as long as you rest," Yuuri explains, emphasizing the word rest. "You should be able to go home in a few days."

Yuri lets out a huff of displeasure at the "few days" part, but then his eyes widen at something else that Yuuri said. "Y-you filled out my paperwork?" he asks, sounding uncertain.

"I did," Yuuri says, looking Yuri right in the eyes. This changes nothing, he tries to communicate silently. I still see you the exact same way. "Now, you'd better get some rest. I told Victor about what happened, and he's going to come home soon as he can. He's been very worried about his son, you know." This time, Yuuri puts special emphasis on the word son, hoping that he can get the message across. Judging by the way Yuri's face softens slightly, he thinks that Yuri got it. "He keeps texting me for updates."

"That geezer is not my father," Yuri complains, a hint of a smile forming on his lips before he ducks behind his long blonde bangs, embarrassed. "And I'm bored! Can't I at least watch TV or something?"

Yuri is going to be just fine.


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