CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTY FIVE

Bags were thrown into the back of the hybrid early the next afternoon...but not by the man who'd arrived there. He was already in the front seat, white-knuckling the steering wheel as Konstantin closed the door behind him.

[Don't think I've ever seen you get hurt so bad from falling off the roof before, Mik.] The huge man said through the open driver's side window, one arm resting on the roof of the vehicle as he leaned down to the door.

[I'm not 20 anymore.] The silver Russian grumbled, [I should've known better.]

[Don't get into trouble before your phone starts to work again. No one will know you're stuck out there.]

[I'll be fine.]

Konstantin examined him closely, but then shrugged and stood upright, [Stick to the main road and drive slow. I'd rather not have to plant you by your sister so soon after putting her there in the first place.]

That got Mikhail to raise his head, turning as well as he could to look at the Nikiforov patriarch. He huffed a whined laugh, [I escaped this place once before...I won't let you drag me back here even if I die. I'll haunt you if you do.]

[You belong here just like the rest.]

The silver Russian got a little quiet after that, but shook his head, [Doesn't Viktor belong here too then?]

There was an awkward pause, but just as Konstantin was about to go into his schpiel, Mikhail stuck his hand out the window and held it up to stop him.

[Never mind! I'm going now.]

The azure-colored vehicle started backing down the dirt road, and Konstantin watched it go quietly, crossing his arms lazily. He could see where every rock and crevice along the way was sending shooting pain up the man's spine. He could only hope it would be better once the roads were properly paved a few miles outside of town.

You Rozovskys are all so fragile. It's a wonder you made it this far.

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The first Official Practice day had finally come. Many skaters wouldn't be arriving until later that same day though, or even the following day, which meant the ice was sparsely populated. Other than Yuri, at least for Men's Singles, there were only three other competitors already present.

Czech Republic's Emil Nekola

Republic of Korea's Seung-gil Lee.

And Kazakhstan's Otabek Altin.

Each one had already performed at one other event, so like Yuri, Cup of China was their last shot for a spot at the Final. However, unlike Yuri, none but Otabek had taken Gold so far that season.

Actual scores aside...rank is all that matters when it comes to getting to Detroit... Yuri thought to himself, sipping at his water-bottle as he leaned on the rink wall, watching the other skaters practice. His eyes were on Otabek though; stoic and on his own as usual. He bit down lightly on the plastic nub, Everyone's so focused on me getting Gold this weekend so the Final is super-charged for competing against Viktor...but all I can think of is whether or not I can even pull it off. Expectations are really high now...

His brow furrowed into a worried expression, and he hardly noticed how he was drifting away from the wall until he felt a tug on the back of his practice shirt, pulling him back again. He didn't make it far though, and as he turned his head to see what had happened, he saw Viktor hanging off the top of the wall, one arm out where his hand was pinched to the back of Yuri's outfit, "...What are you doing?"

"Pulling you back before you get run over." The Russian explained, "But you got too far out and now I'm stuck." He laughed at himself, "Help me get upright again?"

Yuri shook his head and huffed a laugh, turning around to push the man back to his own side of the wall and onto his feet. He set the water-bottle down next to his glasses and then casually crossed his arms in front of himself, looking down to touch the gold on his ring finger.

"You haven't actually practiced anything yet." Viktor went on, "Why not?"

Hazel eyes went back over the ice, "Sizing up the competition. Everyone here today is getting extra time on the ice since they arrived early like we did...but they've all gotten really good since the last time I saw any of them compete... Especially Otabek."

"Getting nervous already? It's still two days to the Short Program." Viktor mused, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand where he'd propped himself up on his elbow, "Otabek didn't medal at last year's Final, and he only took Bronze at Four Continents." He said, trying to instill come semblance of confidence into his athlete, "He'll probably be at the GP Final, but if last year's roster is any indication...even a scrub who tied for the last available slot can still get on the podium at the end. Lest you forget, you bumped off Michelle Crispino that time, and he scored more than 20 points higher than you at Sochi."

Yuri turned his head and gave the man a look, "'Tied for the last spot'?" He echoed, "Makes it sound horrible."

"You still made it, and that's all that matters. Besides, anyone who wins Gold at any of their GP Series events is basically guaranteed a spot at the Final, so you won't have to stress about it like at Rostelecom before." Viktor explained, "You'd have to come in dead last here to lose your place, so you can take it easy."

"Everyone's expecting me to take Gold here too though. If I don't, it'll take the wind out of everyone's sails that we both be on a winning streak going into the Final."

The Russian reached forward and took Yuri's anxious hands into his own, "Yuri...what everyone else expects is irrelevant. There's no guarantee I'll take Gold at NHK anyway. Anything could happen between now and then. Maybe I'll take Silver on purpose just to spite them."

"That doesn't sound like something you're capable of." The younger skater huffed, "You'll win Gold or you'll die trying."

"Hm, maybe." Viktor agreed. He shrugged and then pulled Yuri's hands forward so he'd slide closer, then let him go to snake his arms around the man's lower back, nosing the front of Yuri's neck as he felt the skater's hands go over his shoulders, "The point is...you can do whatever you want. Go for Gold, or go for something else...it's up to you."

"Shouldn't you be encouraging me to get Gold anyway?" Yuri wondered, folding his right arm around so he could play with the silver hair, "It's not like you to say that I can or should settle for less."

"Cup of China is where you kind of had an epic meltdown before. I want you to be able to sleep normally." The Russian said simply.

"To be fair..." The skater pulled back a little to look into slate-blue eyes, "That was your fault." He could feel Viktor twitch as he said it, so he pulled back a little and put a thumb on his partner's chin, "So...don't say you'll leave me if I don't get on the podium and everything should be fine."

"You should definitely go for Gold then."

"Only if you do the same at NHK."

Viktor huffed a laugh and winked, "As if you had to convince me."

"As your coach, it's my sacred duty to make sure you do your best." Yuri said pointedly, holding up a finger for emphasis, "If I sense even the slightest hesitation, I'll have to scold you."

The Russian just gaped at him a little, surprised to have his own words thrown back at him so soon. His surprised look turned to a warm smile again though, and his cheeks flushed a little, "I really should keep a log of all the times you make me fall in love with you. It just happened again."

The younger skater grinned in his usual way, but then tilted his head and moved in closer, kissing his husband fondly, "Well...I should probably go out there and pretend I know how to skate for a little while."

"Probably." Viktor agreed, "Oh, before you take off...we were so busy with registration yesterday that we didn't even do anything for your birthday. Do you want anything?"

"Nothing that immediately comes to mind..." Yuri sighed, "With everything that happened in Bordeaux, I entirely forgot about it."

"Hmm..." The Russian was already starting to think of things, "I'll have to do something to get you to forget about Bordeaux then." Arms immediately started to descend from where they'd been parked just around the younger man's lower back. They went palms-down on a double-handful of SkaterButt before Yuri flailed from the embarrassment and kicked away from the rink wall, his face as red as Viktor had ever seen. He just laughed and waved as his athlete went to go do his late-start practice.

The other skaters hadn't seen what happened, so they all gawked at Yuri curiously as he went by to find a spot on the ice.

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Four hours of driving, three rest stops, 14 texts, 37 emails, and 8 missed calls later...Mikhail finally got back to St. Petersburg. Sitting in the car around the block from Yurio's original apartment, he thumbed at his phone and sent the message that he'd finally arrived.

[Hey, I'm in the parking lot. We can head straight to Moscow if you want.]

[...]

[...]

[...]

THUD.

"MIKHAIL."

The aged Russian nearly had a coronary from the shock, hit flat-cap knocked clear off his head after jerking from the surprise. His phone went to the floor in the passenger-side foot-well, but he ignored it in favor of turning the other way to deadpan a certain blonde teenager who was glued to the driver's side door like a home-aquarium sucker-fish.

"Yuri."

"YOU GOTTA TAKE ME TO SHANGHAI."

The flat look continued, even as the older man hit the button on the center console to lower the window a crack, just enough to get his eyes over the edge of it to stare at the teen unobstructed, "Why didn't you ask to come at the start of the season? You should've known where your friend was competing way back when event assignments had been made."

"I didn't know you'd be going!"

The deadpan morphed as one eyebrow rose up a little, "...You didn't know I'd be going." He repeated, "How? Yuri and Viktor are going, Minako's going...naturally that would mean..."

"Katsudon is competing, so duh Viktor and Okukawa would be going!" Yurio explained, trying to pull the door open but finding that it was still locked, so he abandoned it, clinging to the window again instead, "But I already asked Viktor to let me fly with him once and he turned me down, plus I can't just ask to tag along with your girlfriend!"

"But it's okay to ask me...?"

The doors unlocked, and when Yurio heard the click, he raced to pull the panel open as the silver man within slowly unbuckled the seatbelt, "You're different! You're a sponsor so you roll differently!"

Mikhail just huffed, "I'm your sponsor, not a sponsor, but it's the ISU pays your way...to events you're going to."

"I can pay for my ticket, I just need someone to buy it for me!"

"Still doesn't answer why you didn't mention it before."

Yurio grit his teeth, "I...didn't want to jump to conclusions and assume I was going to make it to the Final. If I didn't make it, I was going to stay here and focus on Russian Nationals with the rest of the wash-outs."

Mikhail turned slowly, setting one foot on the ground at a time, and then using the door frame and the back of his seat to push up to standing. He grit his teeth and tried to ignore the searing pain running down his spine, but it just winded him and he had a hard time standing upright again.

The teen glanced up at him, curiously at first but then with a worried look on his face, "...Are you okay?"

"Getting old sucks." The elder said between breaths, "I don't recommend it."

"I heard you fell off a roof, but..." Yurio started, his attention suddenly B-lined by the feeling of something slipping over his backside. He turned quickly and spotted Minako there, holding her phone up.

"You ran off so fast that you forgot to give this back to me on the way out." She said, waggling the device at him before putting it into her own back pocket, "Would've been nice to know about the message I'd been sent before you vanished."

"Sorry, I just..."

"...Want to go to Cup of China, we know." Mikhail finished for him, still holding to the car to keep himself from dropping.

Minako gave the man a worried look, seeing how he struggled, "Sheesh, you must've really taken a tumble if you're still like this."

"It'll be fine...I just need a minute..."

The ballerina had seen her fair share of sport-related injuries in her hay-day, so the sight of agony in the absence of blood was no stranger to her. She stepped quietly closer and started to press her fingers against the Russian's back, feeling through his heavy coat, one bone at a time. A blinding shot of pain made the man's legs give out as she felt around the lower part of his mid back, but she and Yurio quickly caught him.

"How did you land?"

"R-Right on my ass." He answered, wincing as he sat back into the driver's seat, "Like a damned idiot..."

"Sitting upright?"

"D-Da."

"Hm."

"What is it?" Yurio asked, his own back starting to hurt a little from the sight of the older man's pain, "What happened?"

"I thought one of the boys would get hurt before any of us did." She answered, "Lots of skaters are forced into early retirement after back injuries, even when they're careful...but in your case..."

Grey-green eyes looked up, dreading to hear it.

"...You're a bit old for quad jumps, so falling off a roof is probably the only thing you could've done to hurt yourself, short of having really bad bones in the first place." She went on.

"Sounds...like I'm not going to China then."