CHAPTER SIXTY SIX
Once again, they piled everyone into the car, with Viktor driving, Yuri in the front passenger seat, and their solitary guest alone in the back. As Yuri buckled in, he slid his hand over to settle on Viktor's leg, and the man's own free hand joined it soon after they'd gotten on the road.
"So what's your company called anyway?" The younger skater wondered, looking back to his in-law.
"The most boring and obvious name ever." Mikhail laughed, "Rozovsky Engineering Equipment Incorporated."
"Mh, very creative."
"So you guys don't have any other skating things until fall right?"
"Nah." Yuri confirmed.
"This is off-season for us." Viktor elaborated, "We use this time to make new routines for the fall. There are a few competitions but they're mostly local, and people who won prizes at international events don't generally go."
It wasn't a terribly long drive to Yurio's place, and the door was thrown open before anyone had even had a chance to knock.
"Dobryj den'~" The two Russians said.
Meanwhile, Yuri just had both arms out, waiting for his due. Yurio just gawked at him, then at the two silver-haired men standing behind him. He sighed, stepped through the door, gave a half-assed but well-intended hug, waited impatiently for Yuri to give one back (which he did extra slowly just for fun,) and then ducked right back inside again. Once everyone had followed, he stuck his head out the door one last time just to be sure no one saw, and then closed the door.
Yurio's grandpa was watching some sports game or another on the small television when the group piled inside, and he waved to those he recognized as they came into sight. Yurio's cat snuck by along the base of a wall and scampered down a hallway to get out of sight.
"Yuratchka, why didn't you tell me people were coming over?" Nikolai started trying to get up, but the young blond rushed over to make sure he didn't over-work himself.
"It's just business stuff! It's fine! You don't have to get up!"
"Business?"
Mikhail suddenly felt rather awkward, leaning over to Viktor, "Shouldn't he have known why we're coming?"
"Probably." The younger Russian turned to the blond, "Neh, Yuri...didn't you tell him?"
Yurio turned around slowly, then made a gesture whereby he raked his thumb across his throat and then pointed at them all. The message was clear...say something and die! So they stayed quiet, moving over to sit at the small kitchen table, everyone with their hands clasped in their laps like children who'd been put in time-out, waiting for Yurio to set them free again.
It was a tense few minutes, but eventually, the teen came back around and sat at the one empty spot at the square table, spinning his chair around to sit in reverse on it, and huffed a sigh, "Let's get this done, then."
Mikhail nodded and pulled his bag from the floor onto his lap, withdrawing a number of papers and a sealed envelope.
"I've already put together everything technical that needs to be done. My company has sponsored other things before, so I'm guessing that sponsoring an athlete is similar...but the long and short of it is, I'll have your career in my hands for a period of one year. In that time, I don't expect you to win anything, though if you do, I get a 50% cut of whatever you take home. I'll cover all your skating expenses...rink rental fees, blade sharpening and replacement, new boots, new costumes, music editing, travel and food for competition, whatever. If Yakov takes you back, I'll deal with his coaching fees as well. If not, I'll vet whoever takes you next. Same thing with the choreographer lady. You'll wear my company's logo on your off-rink uniforms like all your other sponsors. Plus...you get a $500 stipend each month to do with whatever you want that doesn't involve skating. At the end of the year, if I'm pleased with your progress, I'll sign you on for another 2 years with more reasonable percentages and a nicer allowance. Are you still in school?"
"Yeah."
"Plans for college?"
"Not entirely."
"Figure something out. You'll need something to fall back on once you're done with sports. And finally..."
Yurio braced for it.
"...the therapy."
He heaved a sigh, "...Yeah."
"I've compiled a small list of people I think can help you. Figure out which one you hate the least and set up an appointment. I'll be going with you as a chaperone unless I'm not in town, and I won't be in the sessions with you unless you say otherwise. You go as often as they say you should go, and as long as they say you should go."
Yurio struck his finger down on the table, as though trying to cut off the conversation without speaking up.
"What?"
"One condition."
"You're really not in a position to bargain."
"They can't put me on meds." Yurio said anyway, "I refuse. It'll fu-...er...compromise my performance on the ice."
"You're angry, not depressed. If someone tries to put you on meds, we'll find someone else."
The teen seemed relieved to hear it, and leaned back in his chair to let the Russian finish.
"Anyway...that was basically my whole schpeel. This envelope..." Mikhail held up the standard letter-sized article, "...has some paperwork you need to fill out for insurance purposes, and a debit card. You don't touch the card until I get a confirmation that you've scheduled the consultation. I'll get an alert on my phone anytime a transaction posts."
"Jeeze, microma-"
"Hvatit." Mikhail held his hand up, "Think about what you're about to say and ask yourself if it's worth it to finish. I just offered you a life-line, and my stipulations are not excessive. Do you really want to undermine me with an attitude?"
Viktor and Yuri were both a bit shocked at the whole thing, side-eyeing each other like they wanted to ask if the other saw and heard what just happened.
The man reminded Yurio all too much of Lilia, and his heart skipped a beat, realizing that, like with her, the elder Russian wouldn't bend to his jabs like most others did. He lowered his head.
"Well?"
"No sir."
"Perfect!" Mikhail was all smiles again, "Go over the papers in there and mail it to me when you're done. There's stamps inside and the address has already been marked, so just put yours like normal. Once I get it, you'll be added to my company's health and life insurance policy, which will cover you in case anything happens while you're out of the country, too."
Yurio looked at the front face of the envelope, "This is addressed to Canada."
"Yeah, my main residence. My condo in Moscow is a time-share, and I'm not about to move into Viktor's old house."
"...And you can afford all of this." Yurio was skeptical.
"I wouldn't be offering if I couldn't."
"Just seems weird. You..." Yurio wasn't sure how to proceed with that line of thought, and he grunted under his breath as he slouched against where he leaned on the back of the chair, "...You just popped up out of nowhere not too long ago, didn't know a thing about skating, didn't know a thing about any of us...and now you're ready to drop literally thousands of dollars on someone you've only had one shaky conversation with before this very moment. Where's the catch?"
"Did any of your other sponsors know you personally before offering contracts?"
"...I guess not."
"The only thing that makes this different from that is the fact that I'm related to those two." He thumbed at the married couple, and they waved meekly, "So...do we have a deal?" He moved the same hand forward towards the teen.
"How are you related to both of them?" Yurio's grandfather suddenly asked, his ears having barely caught the comment, "Only Viktor's native."
Viktor and Yuri went pale, the hands they'd been comically waving with being their ring-hands, and they nervously held them up to the Plisetsky patriarch for him to see.
Nikolai gawked, seeing the golden bands, "Oh." He then went back to watching his show, "Da..."
Yurio held up his hand to obscure his voice, "That's probably the best you'll get."
"We'll take it." Yuri mused, letting his heart settle again.
Viktor finally felt comfortable as well and scooted his chair closer to his husband so he could wrap an arm around him as they continued to listen. Yuri just lifted his left hand, since it was closest, and poked Yurio in the face to turn his head back towards his new sponsor.
Mikhail still had his own hand out, and the teen nodded, reaching back to take it in his own, "Deal."
With that all done, the group stood up and prepared to leave. The elder Russian left a copy of the entire sponsorship agreement with the teen, though he knew it would likely end up on a pile of forgotten paperwork to gather dust eventually. Yurio followed them to the door and stepped out with them for a moment, shoving his hands into his hoodie's pockets to brace them against the cold Russian air.
He looked up at Viktor, who had in turn been looking up towards the sun, basking in what little warmth it could offer him, "It's almost a year to the day that you flew out of this place and went to Hasetsu. Now you're about to do it again."
"I won't leave without saying goodbye again, don't worry."
"That's actually not entirely what I meant."
Yuri percolated on that for a moment. Something about it was bothering him. He looked from Viktor to the teen, then at Mikhail, then at where he'd pulled his phone out to check what day it was again...something was off.
Then realization dawned.
"VIKTOR!"
"Hm?"
"We haven't invited either of them to our honeymoon party!" He blurted, "We haven't invited anyone!"
"Well, you said you wanted to keep it small and informal..."
"Yeah but that doesn't mean we shouldn't invite anyone." He clarified, turning to the others again, "Do you guys want to come!? Yuu-chan and her girls are setting up the whole thing at the Ice Castle! We're gonna do encore performances of some of our old shows so the family can see them in person! You should do some of yours!"
Yurio looked at him sharply, his one visible iris shrinking a little as he was reminded. He shook his head, "Wait here a minute."
The Asian was left dumbfounded, "...What..."
They waited for what felt like a while, but pretty soon, the teen was coming back out again, this time with something in his hands. Clean and folded, packaged neatly in a paper bundle with a clear plastic window in the front to show what it was...the trio recognized it as Yurio's Agape costume. He held it for a moment, and then stepped up to Viktor to give it back.
"I won my Senior debut at the Grand Prix Final with this...but I've been a poor example of living up to what it means. I want to return it."
His elder was a bit stunned by it, and he took the package gently in his own hands, "...You had your reasons. I'm glad you tried anyway though."
"I'll come to Hasetsu and I'll do a show to replace this one." Yurio continued, "But it'll be the one I abandoned before the European Championships. I think you'll both like it better anyway. I'll...work on it this week to iron out the kinks, now that I know I can pay the rink fees again."
Mikhail was happy to hear it, but he said nothing.
Yuri was comically overcome with emotion at that point, latching onto the teen like he'd intended to after winning his spot in the Grand Prix Final Six at the Rostelecom Cup, "I can't wait to see it!"
Viktor joined in on the hug, pulling both his favorite Yuri's close...then reaching to grab his uncle and yank him into the pile as well.
.
.
.
"That went pretty well, I think." Viktor said as they started heading back, stopped at a light for a moment, "I think he might actually pull through this one."
"Then there's only one last thing to deal with." Mikhail reminded him.
"Can't we do that tomorrow?" The younger Russian whined.
"You keep talking about it like I have to call your father. We're just calling the lawyer."
"Mmmmmmhhhnnnnnnnnnn..." Viktor growled, lowering his head as the light turned green again.
Yuri could feel his tension rising from where he had his hand on the man's thigh, and he rubbed his thumb back and forth slowly to help ease it off again.
When they finally got back to the house, Viktor was still a bit ruffled, watching dubiously as his uncle dialed the dreaded phone number and set his phone to speaker on the kitchen island. He was sitting sideways on the couch, with Yuri close by, while their elder pulled up one of the wooden chairs from the side-table.
The conversation clicked in, and what sounded like a secretary answered. Once again, everything was in Russian, so Yuri settled in with his phone to wait for the end, or a translation, whichever came first. His mind wandered to all the skating friends he'd have wanted to invite to their late wedding party if he'd realized it was okay to do so...but last-minute air-fare and travel plans were notoriously difficult for people to plan for, especially if they weren't rolling in victory winnings.
Maybe Phichit can come...he won a nice pot from his gold at the Cup of China...maybe Chris, too...
A different voice took over the phone after Mikhail identified himself.
[Hey...he's here.] The Russian explained, [You're on speaker.]
[Greetings from Michurinskoye, Mr. Nikiforov. It's been difficult to track you down.]
[Hiiii~] Viktor tried to sound amiable, even if he was screaming internally.
[We thought it would be a lot easier since we know who you are, but when we went through the Russian Skating Federation to try and get your contact information, they said there was a ban from the upper levels of the ISU to not give it out unless there was a Court Order. We don't have that kind of power when just doling out insurance policies, so unfortunately...]
[I know. Carry on.]
[Very well... Your mother had a policy on her life and listed you as its sole beneficiary. The policy is worth 100,000,000, but-]
[Wait, what? It's worth how much?]
[ 100,000,000]
Mikhail was doing math pretty much immediately, picking up his phone to check the currency conversion rate. Viktor was doing the same.
Yuri lifted his head in confusion, "What's all the sudden energy for?"
"That's almost ¥200,000,000!"
"Oh, you went for Yen? I guess that makes sense."
"What'd you convert it to?"
"American dollars, since they style themselves the world currency standard. It's almost 2 million buckeroonies."
Yuri was practically choking on himself. Viktor pulled him close and pat his back, "Breathe, Yuri...in and out, slow."
[Mr. Nikiforov.] The lawyer continued; Mikhail set the phone back down sheepishly, [I know it's a lot to take in, but there are a few things we need to discuss before we can make this payment out to you.]
[...Like what?]
[This policy was started only 2 months before Mrs. Nikiforov's passing. There are rules in place to prevent fraud, and...well, for a policy to come due so quickly...it's suspicious.]
[...What are you saying? I can't prove anything. I wasn't even in the country when the accident happened.]
[We know, you were in South Korea. But we need to conduct an investigation anyway.]
[You're not going to find much on me. I hadn't talked to her in nearly 10 years.]
[It's not you we mean to investigate.]
Viktor smacked his face, [Oh.]
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(Author note: I'm not entirely sure I like where this arc is going. It's way off course for even something I'd read if I went looking for YoI fics. I'm tempted to just go back and take out the stuff about the immediate family and squish these chapters together so it focuses more on Yurio. I mean, I HAD an endgame in mind, but I'm just not diggin' it. Feedback pl0x.)