(Author note: I know a bunch of folks were looking forward to some arts this weekend, however, my Wacom Bamboo has finally died after like 10+ years of service and 2-3+ years of having an attitude. I won't be able to draw until I replace it. I'll do the smut and 'Yuri vs Kon' pics as soon as I get the new one next week. Keep an eye on the 'Yuri on ICE - NEXT LEVEL: NAD' page on FB to see the finished images once they're done. I promise, one day, I'll remember to connect the FB page to Instagram so people can follow there, too, but...ugh, I'm so lazy XD I have to remember what my Instagram login info is so I can do it, and I just...blah...

Also...for those of you hunkering down for Irma, STAY SAFE. I follow 'Big Cat Rescue' in Tampa so I've been keeping an extra-special eye on it. Harvey turned out to be a big non-event for me but I'm doubting it'll be that easy for ya'll :| )

CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED THIRTEEN

It was close to midnight when the two exhausted skaters finally got back to their hotel room. Both were rosy-cheeked from a bit of drinking, and spirits were high, which was almost thought impossible after such a harrowing weekend thus far.

Coats and scarves were sliding off, barely making it into the hall closet. Shoes were kicked off lazily and just moved aside with the feet that had been wearing them. Ties, shirts, blazers, slacks...all scattered onto the tops of chairs or at the end of the bed.

Yuri busied himself getting his contact lenses out as one light after another was slowly being clicked off, until only the one near to him was left on. He could feel the bed moving behind him as his partner crawled in, barely managing to pull a blanket half-way up himself before going still.

"...I'm so tired..." Viktor mumbled into the sheet, "...But tomorrow morning is going to be awful..."

"I'm honestly surprised you've made it this long." Yuri mused, plugging his and Viktor's phones into their chargers after setting the contact lens case down, then reaching for the television remote control, "I even considered betting Yurio that you'd never come out of the hotel room when we came back to change earlier."

"Pfffbthbfthpt."

The younger figure laughed at that, "You want to take something before you pass out?"

"...Mh...probably a good idea..."

Yuri nodded and popped back off the edge of the bed, rummaging around in one of the smaller bags before returning with two tabs of pain candy and a water bottle. Handing them over, he plopped back into bed, noted the absent middle-layer of the blankets that was still packed into his partner's backpack, and scooted over closer to center.

The silver Russian waited until the younger figure settled before doing much else, barely managing to sit up to take the offered items as it was. He watched quietly as Yuri made a small pillow-pile behind himself that he could lean against, clearly not quite as ready as he himself was to fall asleep. He glanced over to what was coming up on the screen; local weather, late-night comedy, some old movie where you could see the strings on the 'special effects' props, but then he turned away from it again, putting himself between the television and his husband's eyes.

Yuri just blinked at him, "...What is it?"

Nothing was said. Viktor just let go of the water bottle and reached that hand forward to cup it gently over the side of his partner's neck, rubbing his thumb softly along the back of the man's jaw-line and cheek. Looking on in silence for a moment, the Russian leaned in to kiss him, then turned around to settle his back against the man's chest, chased the pain pills with some water, and pulled the thick covers over the both of them.

The younger skater looked on in slight confusion, but mentally shrugged and took it for what it was, sliding his left arm over his husband's shoulder to set it lightly against his chest, fingers barely touching the blanket. He channel-surfed for a little while, settling on some cheesy live-action fantasy movie before giving up and dropping the remote. After a little while, he twisted to the right to click off the last light, plunging the room into darkness, light reflecting off the walls from the television alone.

"Do you think I should offer the old house to my father...? Or the car...?"

Yuri was a bit surprised to hear the words, thinking Viktor would've fallen asleep ages ago. He stretched his legs a bit under the blankets, but then slid both hands down the Russian's chest, crossing them where they vanished under the blanket as he leaned to set his nose and chin against that silver-grey hair, "...I think you've already done enough. Let it rest. It's Mikhail's pet project anyway, so let him figure out what to do."

"...Yeah."

"What you should do is go to sleep, though." He went on, "We still have to do some prep-work for the Exhibition, and practice for it is at 10."

Viktor just brought his hands up from where they'd been limp on his stomach, sliding his fingers over his husband's forearms, "...Mh..."

.

.

.

By morning, the carefully-arranged pillow pile had meant less and nothing, as Yuri had completely slid off of it, falling to his left side sometime in the night. He'd turned himself into something of a pretzel after that, half on his side, upper body trying to be more chest-down, head still turned, arms out wherever there was room. Of course, as utterly ridiculous as he looked, hair looking like a rat's nest, and drooling into the sheets...that was never the case with Viktor. When those brown eyes started to open, a minute or so before the alarm was set to sound, the first thing the young skater saw was the perfect, humble face of a silver-haired god, sleeping on his side, and using his waist like a pillow.

A thin beam of light was pouring through a slit in the curtains, giving the pale Russian an ethereal glow, and making his hair shine like molten platinum. A strand of that hair fell slightly out of place on one breath, falling just past his eyes, and when he moved slightly, the blanket gently tumbled off of where he'd been holding it just under the edge, that gold ring now glowing like the rest of him.

For a while, Yuri didn't dare to move, simply looking at the man in wonder, having no idea what time it was or when the alarm was going to go off and disturb the serenity of the moment.

But then, those perfect blue eyes started to open a little, shimmering like the clearest waters of the sea; azure, slashes of teal, and hints of the darker, mysterious colors of the deeper ocean.

"Mmh...Yuri..." The Russian whispered, managing a hazy smile through his sleepiness.

The words were like the songs of angels, leaving the younger man to wonder silently, How in the world did someone as boring and homely as me get the attention of someone like him?

And then, he knew.

"...Everything is pain..." Viktor whined, unable to move, getting a stupefied look on his face like he didn't know what to do after that.

Oh...right... Yuri blanched, He's completely absurd...

.

A few knocks came onto the door, and the young skater cruised across the floor to get to it, pulling it open a crack to reveal a nervous Minako just on the other side.

"...Has he moved at all since you called...?" She asked pensively, not really being able to see past him while he was in the way.

Yuri stepped back to open the door further and let the woman though; Mikhail was close behind, carrying a cardboard drink-holder with several cups of coffee in it, "...Well, I managed to get him to sit up, but after that...not really."

When they were in, and the door closed quietly behind them, Minako surveyed the room, spotting the hapless Russian lying limp on his front, face turned away from her. She grimaced a little and stepped closer towards him, rounding the end of the bed and crouching down on one knee where she could see his face more evenly, "...Look what you've done to yourself, Viktor."

"I know, I know..." He answered pitifully, a whine to his tone, "I promise not to do it again."

"Well, hopefully you won't find need to." She answered, pushing to stand up again. She moved to take her jacket off just as Mikhail was stepping behind her to set the coffee cups down on the table by the window, and handed it off to him so she could survey the damage. She noted the big puffy comforter first, barely able to see much more than the top of the skater's shoulders at that stage of things, "You're not naked under there, are you?"

The Russian laughed, but then simpered down to a pained groan when it made him move too much.

Yuri just shook his head and huffed an amused sigh, "No. He wasn't anyway, but I put his swim trunks on him too, after getting off the phone with you." He explained, moving to sit on the bed on Viktor's opposite side, "I just threw the blanket over him because he was getting cold." He then reached to pull the thing back, revealing the full length of the Russian's pale physique to the ballerina's eyes, "I wouldn't even know where to start. He says it hurts everywhere."

Minako was torn between her desire to give the lithe Russian athlete the fangirly-googly-eyes, and knowing she probably shouldn't, especially given that her own newly-officiated partner was right behind her and watching as well. Instead, she drew in a deep breath, bringing her hands into the flow of it like she were practicing Yoga, cleared her mind, exhaled, and looked again.

Still...it was the nearly-naked body of Viktor friggin Nikiforov right there before her, and every contour of his frame was as plain and obvious as the day was bright, especially with his swimming trunks being as form-fitting as they were.

She caught sight of one blue eye peering at her from the sheets, where the skater was trying to watch her, and her face just went red, "You're not helping!"

"What'd I do!?" He whined, "I'm just looking!" He quickly grunted against the pain again though, his figure clenching up slightly before he lost the will to resist, and went completely limp, "...Whhyyyyy..."

Yuri set a hand against the center of his partner's back, leaning over him slightly to reach for the latte Mikhail had brought for him, "You're making her nervous. Try to be less...I dunno...exhaustingly attractive for a few minutes...?"

"I can't help iiiittt...!"

The younger skater just laughed at that again, sitting back with his drink and smelling what he could through the small mouth-piece; cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. He glanced up at the ballerina though, seeing how she was still trying hard to gain some focus, "Isn't this what you wanted before?" He teased, "Getting to know the room numbers of all the skaters I was competing against?"

"Yes." She admitted sheepishly, "But back then, you weren't married to any of them, and the likelihood of any of them asking me to give them a massage was rather...how shall we say...remote?" She gestured down at the silver legend, "Also, and this may come as a shock to both of you, but this is Viktor Nikiforov."

"Yes he is."

"Yes I am."

"Stop it!" She protested comically, "I'll never get this done if you two don't cut it out!"

Mikhail just sipped his drink, trying not to look bothered. He knew what was coming though, so no matter the teasing, if Minako treated his nephew the way she treated him, even the legendary Viktor Nikiforov was about to be in a world of pain that even he couldn't charm himself out of.

"Well, I guess we should quit messing around." Yuri suggested, looking over at where his partner's head was still turned away, "There's only 2 hours until Gala practice."

"Mh..." The Russian agreed nervously.

"You said you had lotion I could use...?" Minako wondered dubiously, "Better not be anything weird or kinky."

Yuri shook his head, then twisted over towards the night-stand where their phones were still sitting, and grabbed a fancy-looking black jar with white and red lettering, "Nah, it's just one of Viktor's fancy skin lotions."

The ballerina looked at the jar, opening the lid to see a strange yellow-colored cream inside, "...How much did this cost...?"

"$52..." The older skater muttered, "Just keep in mind that a little bit goes a long w-"

Yuri's leg went over his head after that, and the Russian found himself too surprised to contest it, "Let her do her work or we'll never get out of here."

Viktor just whined a sigh, turning his head to face the sheet beneath him instead of gawking and delaying the inevitable.

Minako finally resigned to her fate as well, "I guess I'll start with your back then... You skaters put a lot of pressure on it when you jump, so I can only imagine how much it hurts right now after all the quads you did yesterday."

"A lot." He agreed, voice muffled from the linens.

"Alright..." The woman drew in a breath, stepping up to the edge of the bed, "...Let's get started..." She dipped her fingers in the fancy yellow cream and nervously drew a line down the center of the pained Russian's back, then pressed lightly...and then dug hard as she followed the line of the first muscle going out from his spine.

Yuri could feel how much it hurt just by feeling how much his husband tensed under his leg. The stoic figure refused to make a sound though, clenching his teeth and trying to focus on breathing instead, gasping for breath once the first line had been finished. Minako just went back up though and started to dig a little bit lower after that, going just as deep, letting her fingers slide across his skin with that strange, fancy lotion easing the way. It was only when she'd finally gotten low enough on his back that she switched directions, and had to follow the iliac crest of his hip, that he finally couldn't take it anymore. She pulled back just the edge of the swim trunks to feel along the edge of the bone, and pressed hard into it, following it all the way from center to almost under the front of him...and he cried out a muffled half-scream between clenched teeth. She gave him a moment to catch his breath, and let him move his arms to bend them up under himself a little before she did it again.

Sensing the excruciating agony of the 'therapy,' Yuri reached to take his husband's hand, feeling each dig into the man's flesh as a vice-gripping clench around his own fingers.

"Your muscles feel like concrete, Viktor..." The ballerina said with an apologetic tone, "It's going to take more than just a minute to sort all this out."

"I kn-know..." He managed, each press into his skin feeling like a knife slicing through him, though relieving a little bit with each subsequent pass, "K-Keep going..."

And she did. Despite the pained grunts, twitches, pain spasms, putting the Russian to tears on a few occasions, and everything else that the treatment entailed...she did. But in the end, by roughly 9am, an hour and a half after starting, he could finally stand up again, albeit feeling very sore.

Minako fell back into a nearby recliner, exhausted from the work, almost to the point of feeling her thumbs cramping. She watched her 'patient' fumble around the room, trying to get his bearings while Yuri acted as a buffer in case he started to fall, "...Keep moving...the more you move, the better you'll feel..." She advised, waving one hand around weakly before letting it drop again, "Whew... Normally, people take pain meds before they ask for this kind of thing... Having your whole back, shoulders, and legs done all at once...that's an undertaking most wouldn't tolerate without some."

"We didn't have anything strong enough." Yuri explained, "The stuff he took last night barely took the edge off, so he said there was no point."

"I'd never manage to skate the Exhibition if I didn't go through the whole thing." Viktor grumbled, reaching around to rub his sore lower back, "I should be fine by tonight..."

"Thanks for coming on such short-notice, Minako-sensei." The younger figure added, "And for the coffee, Mikhail. Sorry if we ate up half your morning. I guess we'll see you later then?"

"We can wait a little bit if you want a ride over to the rink." The ballerina offered, "It'd be fun to watch a practice again."

Yuri nodded, "We'll be down in about 30 minutes then."