(Author's Note: Ch143 was substantially expanded-on the morning after I posted it. Nothing really -changed- per se, but the word-count nearly doubled, so I'd recommend going back and re-reading everything after Viktor and Yuri's part before moving on, or at least making sure you've read the one that's posted currently.)

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTY FOUR

"Okay, ready?"

"Ready."

"PULL."

The path was clear; all the furniture had been moved from one side of the Master Bedroom suite to the other, the lamps had been unplugged and relocated, and the curtains pulled open. The window was nearly full-length from floor to ceiling, save a foot-high lip at the bottom where a short section of it could be lifted open, a screen behind it to keep the bugs and birds out.

The Queen-size bed was harder to move than it should've been. Slowly but surely though, it started to skid across the carpet, pulling away from the small cubby it had been designed to fit into.

They were on one of the upper floors of the Sheraton Shanghai Hotel & Residence, the official event hotel for the Lexus Cup of China.

"Okay, that should be enough. Get ready to turn it." Viktor said, moving around his partner towards the sleek black headboard. The pillows had been piled up into the middle of the bed so they wouldn't fall off, and the overhanging ends of the big cover-sheets were hauled up as well to avoid them getting pinched during the move.

Yuri followed and took his place on one corner of the headboard, nodding to the Russian before pushing, so the whole thing would turn around, pointing the foot-end of it towards the windows. That done, it was a straight-shot to the end of the room, and they pushed until they felt the mattress come up on the window sill. When the whole thing finally stopped moving, they slumped against where they'd had their backs against the wooden frame and slid to the floor in a heap.

"No bed has any right being this heavy." Yuri said, rubbing one shoulder, "It should've only taken one of us to move it."

"The view will be worth it." Viktor added, pushing to stand and then offering his hand to hoist his husband up to his feet again.

They each moved around to opposite sides and started resetting all the blankets and sheets, piling most of the pillows at the headboard like before, but tossing two or three towards the other end, and then flopped on top of the whole thing. Shoulder to shoulder, lying on their stomachs, they looked out through their high-rise hotel room windows and looked out over Shanghai.

The skyline at evenfall was a breathtaking sight, with all the lights of the city starting to come into full display. Yuri's eyes were wide with excitement and awe at the whole thing. He glanced back only momentarily as Viktor rolled off the edge of the bed again to go rummage around in their luggage.

It took a few minutes, and Yuri was starting to get curious as to what he'd gone looking for, so he twisted where he was lying and moved to look past the headboard. Just as he was going to peek his eyes past the black wood fixture though, Viktor came back around the side and sat half-cross-legged on the edge of the bed.

"What were you looking for...? Took you a while to find it, whatever it was." The younger skater commented, looking at the Russian's hands. He didn't get a good look though before Viktor startled him upright again though, and he looked at the man's face instead.

"The Men's Short Program starts Friday afternoon, so it's my sacred duty as your coach to motivate you as much as I can." Viktor answered, revealing a shoe-box, and earning a quirked brow from his young husband.

"...What did you bring that would motivate me?"

Pulling the lid off, the silver Russian withdrew a smaller box from within; a square, black-velvet case about 4in across. Yuri recognized it immediately, but said nothing as Viktor pried the lid open. A few more seconds, and Yuri was looking at the Silver medal he'd earned at the previous year's Grand Prix Final. Just like that night, after the Exhibition, but just before the Banquet, Viktor held up the medal by the lanyard and let it be bathed in the light of dusk, and just like back then, the Silver suddenly shone like molten sunlight.

"You've won Gold at every event you've gone to since winning this." Viktor explained, moving to grasp the lanyard with both hands and then spreading the material apart, laying it around Yuri's neck gently, dousing it in shadow enough that the Silver gleamed its normal shade again, "And you'll win Gold here, too, and then again at the Final. I said so last year and I'm more sure of it now than ever."

"I still have to beat you and last year's winner..." Yuri pointed out, fingering the metal where it hung low on his chest, "Team Russia isn't exactly holding punches."

Viktor just smiled, "Team Japan isn't a push-over either."

"You practically decided your own SP score...and Yurio beat me there, too..."

"At one event." The Russian corrected, "And you still have him beat in the Free Skate, which is where it really counts." He reached his right hand out and gently touched it to his husband's face, feeling as Yuri leaned his cheek into his palm, "I know it probably makes you anxious to think about it, but you and I are actually fairly evenly matched. You can do all the same jumps that I can-"

"I can't do the quad Axel."

"...That I can do for competition." Viktor amended, stroking his thumb across pale skin, "The only person here who even might give you a challenge is Otabek Altin, and I only say that because he's physically won medals before. You still tower over his best scores though."

"Ota...bek..." Yuri echoed, "Oh, he's the one that Yurio became friends with last year. He was at the wedding party, too. He was such a wall-flower that I hardly remembered him..."

Viktor nodded, "He doesn't say a whole lot and he mostly keeps to himself. It's hard for me to read him, but he seems to get on with Yurio pretty well. I entirely forget where they said they'd met before!" He said jokingly.

"Yurio will be upset that he isn't competing at the same events as Otabek until the Final, if they both make it."

"He'll be upset that he isn't here, this weekend." The Russian corrected, "It was one thing to miss an event when he had no one else to go for, but Minako-sensei and Uncle Mimi are coming here for your sake, so Yurio will be peeved he isn't tagging along."

"...Uncle Mimi?"

"Yeah." Viktor looked across at his husband curiously, "What?"

"Does Mikhail know you're calling him that behind his back now...?"

"Behind his back?" He huffed, then leaned down so his elbows were on his knees, "That's what I used to call him, as a kid. I said it to him back in Bordeaux."

Yuri sighed, but then leaned down onto his elbows too, mimicking his partner, "I bet he was really happy with that, then."

"I actually don't remember how he reacted! I was still pretty tipsy." The Russian admitted with a nervous laugh.

"Viktor!"

.

.

.

"YOU HAVE TO LET ME COME WITH YOU." Yurio begged, clinging to Minako's back as she wandered through a small open-all-night grocery store, trying to figure out what all the Cyrillic writing on the cans said, "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND."

"Off."

"OTABEK IS GONNA BE THERE AND I GOTTA GO. YOU'RE ALREADY GONNA BE THERE TO WATCH KATSUDON SKATE SO I HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR MISSING IT. HE'S GONNA ASK WHY I'M NOT THERE WHEN HE SEES YOU GUYS."

"We already booked the flight though." She explained, returning the can and grabbing the one in the next section, "I don't think we'd be able to get another seat on the same plane."

"PUT ME INTO A CARRY-ON BAG, I DON'T CARE, JUST LET ME COOMMMEEEE."

She deadpanned the teen where he clung to her, "It's not really up to me. I didn't buy the tickets."

"WELL ASK MIKHAIL WHEN HE GETS BACK."

"He's not getting back until the day before we fly out of here." Minako pointed out, "And by then it'll really be impossible."

Yurio finally let go and kicked his shoe against the floor in frustration, growling quietly to himself.

The ballerina just stared at him, quirking a brow, trying not to let his sulking reel her into pitying him, "Didn't you manage to get to Hasetsu by yourself that first time?"

"My grandpa bought that ticket on my behalf, and I gave him the money to do it." The blonde grumbled, "But he's been giving me grief about my spending habits since last year. I..." He turned his head a little and looked away, his face mostly obscured by his hoodie and a few strands of pale hair, "...I had to tell him I got dropped from the team after Mikhail came and did the sponsorship thing. He was really suspicious about it because of how everyone was acting."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Yurio shook his head, "It's fine now, but he won't let me spend anything that isn't necessary...and he won't think this is." He looked the woman squarely and lunged a step closer, the wet, wide-eyed 'what great fashion' look coming across his face, "SO YOU HAVE TO HELP ME OUT."

She turned away from him and started pushing the cart down the aisle, "Like I said, it's not really up to me, and Mikhail isn't going to be back until it's basically too late."

"Isn't there some way you can message him!?"

"You could try if you wanted, it's not like you don't have his number." Minako pointed out, "The question is whether he'll get the texts before he starts to head back. With the reception nonexistent that far outside the city, odds are that he'll just get a flood of new messages as soon as he drives by the first cell-tower near St. Petersburg, but by then, he still won't be able to do anything about it."

Yurio practically melted, turning into a puddle on the store's tile floor, "...I can't..."

The older woman finally stopped and looked back at where he was lying in a catatonic state. She crossed her arms and sighed loudly before moving towards him, picking him up off the floor, and then walking back to place him in the basket of her cart. She held to the handle-bar on the front of it, but then slouched forward onto her elbows, seeing the growing melancholy on his face.

Another loud sigh, and she lowered her head, "I have a way of getting hold of Mikhail in case of an emergency."

Yurio was on his knees to scramble forward, "REALLY!?"

She waggled a finger at him, "Yes, but I swear to God, if I make this call, you owe me big time."

"Anything!"

.

.

.

Being so far from any major light-pollution, seeing the auroras was easy that far north. It was even easier when there was a roof to get up onto, and it was slanted just enough to lie down on without sliding right off of it.

Though maybe it was because of the small window that had been installed in the middle of the thing, and it sported a non-slanted mini-roof over it that could be sat on. It only stuck out about two feet from the rest of the roof, but it was enough that with a leg on either side of it, it served as a decent seat.

Having been that way for the better part of an hour, the aged Russian pushed to stand, looking up at the colored sky like the worst ninja sentry in the history of ninja sentries. He stretched one leg and then the other, and then hopped backwards to sit against the apex of the roof, crossing his ankles in front of him where the snow had been brushed away.

The snowstorm had abated the morning after his arrival, and the skies had cleared up rather nicely.

Talking to the grave marker had been rather cathartic, even for one such as himself. It felt like talking to a mute bar-tender. Having someone to brag about his nephew's accomplishments to, that wasn't already aware of them, was something he entirely lacked otherwise, and Konstantin wasn't exactly gushing with enthusiasm, despite his best efforts.

There was a quiet click on the other side of the house, and Mikhail turned his head, seeing light pouring out through the open door, bathing the freshly fallen snow in a faint yellow glow.

[Oi.]

[What?]

[Phone.]

[Eh?] Grey-green eyes narrowed skeptically, [...For me?]

[No, for the other idiot sitting on my roof.] Konstantin said gruffly, stepping out just enough to get his eyes past the rim of the house to see his younger companion gawking back at him, [Yes, for you. It's probably one of those damn media people again...it's some woman who doesn't speak any Russian, but is trying anyway and failing miserably at it.]

[...Some...woman?] Mikhail echoed. His heart immediately sank, and he scrambled to get off the cottage as quickly as possible...only to slip and end up going down backwards instead. He flailed as he saw himself sliding right towards Konstantin, but...the big man just side-stepped with a really unamused look on his face and watched the younger Russian land ass-first on the cleared-off walk-way he'd been standing in. Adding insult to injury, the snow Mikhail had pushed loose fell down after him, hitting him with a pift and a paft as they landed all around.

Mikhail was stiff where he'd tanked, but then fell further onto his back and groaned loudly. His hat fell off as he splayed out painfully, his eyes soon turning to see Konstantin deadpanning him severely, holding a lit candle in one hand, [...You saw me sliding. Why didn't you try to catch me?]

[Why didn't you try to not fall off the damn house?] The older figure said flatly, then pointed inside, [Phone.]

The skinny old-timer pushed slowly, painfully to standing, and hobbled in through the door with a hand on his lower back. Konstantin scooped up the forgotten hat and threw it, snow-covered and all, at the back of the man's silver-grey head, hitting him with a light but sloshy whop. Mikhail scrambled to gather his senses, but ignored the hat as it peeled off his head and hit the floor, and went reaching for the phone receiver, pulling it quickly up, "Minako?"

"...Are you okay? You sound like you're hurt."

"I fell off a roof. What happened? What's the emergency?"

"You fell off a roof!? Are you okay...?"

The Russian was starting to realize what was going on, and he slouched where he stood, "This isn't an emergency is it?"

"Well, depending on who you ask...it's nothing, or it the worst possible thing." She answered meekly.

Mikhail looked around the room and gauged the length of the curly phone cable, then limped over to a nearby reclining chair, leaning over the arm-rest to keep the phone from coming off the wall where it was pulled to the limits of its range, "...What does Yuratchka want?"

"A plane ticket. To Shanghai."

Facepalm.