CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED TWENTY SIX

It felt like Heaven to be able to drop face-first into sheets that smelled familiar for once. All the lights in the bedroom were off; in the dark, only the pale glow of the moon and the hall-light creeping through the partly-open door gave evidence to the furniture within.

Yuri had thrown himself across the whole length of the King-size bed, facing towards the big window with not but boxers on and a towel over his damp hair, the curtain drawn only on the left side. For a while, he just looked out into the sky, seeing the small clouds way out on the horizon over the water. Eventually though, he grabbed his phone from its spot on the night-stand just next to him, and pulled up a number. With the call going out, he set the device to Speaker and listened quietly to the dial-tone, and the click that eventually followed.

"Hey Yuri."

"Hey Uncle Mikhail." He answered, going back to crossing his arms over one another loosely and resting his chin in the center, "You busy?"

"Just chasing Vivi's neighbors off. Bunch of nosey shits started circling his car like vultures." The Russian answered, peeking through the drawn blinds like they might still be out there, "I don't think they like me."

Yuri just shook his head and laughed quietly, "I only met them a few times while mowing the front lawn or walking Makkachin. Language barrier and all. They seemed okay."

"Yeah..." Mikhail let the shades go, "So...we just spoke a little while ago. Did Vivi change his mind?"

"Huh?" The skater blinked and looked at the phone where it had been left on the blanket next to him, "Oh. No, I'm not calling about Viktor at all. It's about Yurio."

"Uh oh. Am I fired?"

"Strictly speaking, no. He thinks you're going to quit though."

The elder was stunned into silence, pulling the phone out and looking at the face-plate just to be sure he was actually on a call and not imagining it, then pulling it back again, "...He thinks what? Why would I quit? The season's barely started, and I told him last year that I'd be on for a while."

"...I don't necessarily mean just as his sponsor." Yuri explained, rolling onto his side and crossing his arms over his chest instead, "He's got it in his head that you don't care one way or another about him. That you're only hanging around still because of Viktor and Minako-sensei. He's worried that you're going to drop him off somewhere and never look back, especially since you're bringing your kids over."

"Funny that."

"Eh?" Yuri felt a pit in his gut, and turned back over onto his stomach to look at the phone like it was the man himself, "...What's that supposed to mean?"

Mikhail shrugged, "Lately, Yura's been acting like he's too good for me. I was starting to think he was getting notions of not needing me anymore, even though I still pay all his bills. He's been all passive aggressive, especially this past weekend. I thought maybe he just let his spot in the GP Final get to his head."

"...He gets that way when he feels threatened." Yuri explained, "Or when he's being protective. Given the way things were in Sapporo, and how he kept showing up to translate for me, it was probably the latter."

"What brings all this up?"

The skater paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, "After he forced you to cop to your plans, Yurio wandered off. I went after him while you finished talking to Viktor." He explained, looking from the blanket beneath him, to the sky through the window again, "He thought that if he could get you in trouble for planning to bring your kids to Detroit, that maybe I'd do something to stop it."

"I'm not going to make him hang out with them again, if that's what he's worried about."

"It's a side-concern. His bigger issue is that he's worried you're going to forget he exists while you focus on fixing their situation, and by the sounds of it, their situation is about to become your new permanent situation."

"...Oh." The elder paused at that, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "I don't know what to say about that. They're my kids. I can't just leave them alone to fend for themselves because Yura feels threatened. I'm responsible for them, now more than ever."

"I know." Yuri lowered his head again, turning it towards the phone, "I'm hardly suggesting that you do anything unreasonable or unfair. This is just the way things are now and he's going to have to get used to that. I just thought you should know...you're the closest thing to a real dad he's ever had. We all may joke about Viktor and I being his SkateDads...but that's just for fun."

"...What'd I do?" That very skater's voice echoed, coming up around the stairwell banister, carrying two big mugs of the mulled wine he'd been working on, "...Heard my name as I was coming up."

Yuri tilted his head back to see the man coming, "We're talking about our SkateSon."

"Ah." The younger Russian nodded, coming into the room and handing off the second mug as he came around the foot of the bed. He looked down on the phone face-plate to check the caller-ID, "Hi again, Mimi."

"Heyo."

The smell of cinnamon and orange peel gently filled the air, and Viktor took a quick sip of his drink before sitting on the end of the bed, and leaning over to rest his side and arm over the back of Yuri's legs, using the inward curve of the man's back as something of a cup-holder.

Yuri sipped quietly at the hot liquid as well, turning as well as he could to look at his partner as he explained the situation, "I called Mikhail because of the stuff Yurio told me before we came home."

"...Yeah, I was wondering when it would come up." Viktor nodded, "He was weird all night. I figured he'd told you what was wrong just before I found you."

"Mh." The younger skater confirmed, "Other than the obvious fact that he's not a huge fan of the younger members of the Rozovsky clan, Yurio is worried that Mikhail's storied history of leaving people behind, and his own history of being left behind, will create the perfect storm."

The silver figure held the wine mug to his lip, pausing there for a moment, imagining the uncomfortable silence eating away at his Uncle on the other end of the line, "...Maybe you could do something nice for him."

"...I already do a lot of things for him..." Mikhail sighed, "What else can I do? He's worrying about the outcome of something that I haven't even thought all the way through yet."

"Were you taking him into consideration at this point?" Viktor wondered, setting the mug down again, but on the blanket in front of himself instead, "I mean, what have you thought about so far?"

The elder leaned against a nearby wall, "Bringing my kids to live in Japan, which they'd all hate, but would probably make Minako happiest. Bringing them to live in Russia where I'm already established, which they'd hate more because basically no one there speaks English, and that would probably go over like a lead balloon with Minako, too. Making the kids move to my house in Edmonton, because I refuse to move into the house my ex-wife died in, which would probably get mixed reviews from everyone. Buying a house somewhere in Banff, which would make the kids happiest but me the least happy. Et cetera..."

"...None of those options mentions Yurio." Viktor pointed out.

"Well, the Russian option put a ball in his court, but he'd be the only one even slightly happy about it. Moving my small brood to Moscow or St. Petersburg would feel like an invasion to him though, in all likelihood."

"...Yeah, probably."

"What does Minako-sensei think?" Yuri wondered, looking at his reflection in the steaming red wine just under his face, "She's leaving in the early morning to catch a flight to meet you in Canada, but that's all we know."

"She gave me Hell for thinking I would try to deal with this on my own." Mikhail answered anxiously, "So, knowing that, I have to worry about how she'll feel about whatever I do decide to do, too. She has deep roots out there in Hasetsu, so I'm leaning heavily towards her preferences...but that'd just bring up the potential conflicts with everyone that already lives there, on top of the fact that my kids would start digging a shallow grave for me as soon as we got there."

"...Someone's going to lose big-time no matter what you decide." Yuri decided, taking the mantle of Captain Obvious for the sake of saying it, "And we still haven't figured out how to make Yurio feel better about the whole thing."

"He's been playing tag-along for the last few weeks, constantly filling in the gaps of previously-made plans that had nothing to do with him." Mikhail explained, "And Minako has probably already told him that he's taking her ticket with your sister to get to Detroit. Being passed around like that probably hasn't helped his ego."

Viktor shook his head, "Only getting to go places because someone else's plans fell through, and now knowing it's going to get ten times more complicated..." He huffed quietly and sighed, taking another sip of his drink, "It's no wonder he's upset. He's literally come in second place with everything lately; skating, plane tickets, hotel rooms...now this. There's basically no one who's put him first in any of it."

"Mmhhhh..." Yuri grumbled, shoulders sagging a little, "...Well..."

"...Well?" The younger Russian echoed, looking at him a bit more seriously.

The skater turned his head again, but then twisted to lay on his side, his legs turning under where Viktor had been leaning over them, "...Back before the Hot-Springs on Ice Exhibition...Yurio made the claim that you should go back to Russia and be his coach."

"I remember. ...But what are you suggesting?" Blue eyes narrowed a bit in nervous suspicion.

"...What...if we had him move to Hasetsu? You can be his coach like he wanted, and he could help out at Yu-Topia to earn his keep. He can stay in my old room. We'll take the whole thing out of Mikhail's hands and deal with it ourselves."

"That isn't going to fix his daddy issues." Viktor said flatly, hearing his uncle starting into a coughing fit on the other end of the line, "Sorry, Mimi."

Yuri looked down again, feeling a bit dumb for having suggested it at all.

The Russian could sense it, and quickly drained the last of the hot wine from his mug before reaching over the bed to put it on the night-stand. When he moved back, he curled up slightly behind his husband instead, legs slightly woven together as he reached a pale hand for the man's side and pulled him over onto his back, and settled that same hand onto Yuri's SkaterTum. He leaned forward, pivoting on his elbow, and lightly kissed the younger figure's forehead, "What I meant was...Uncle Mimi has, to some extent, become the father figure Yurio has needed for practically his whole life. Nothing we do will change that. We're his friends and competition; family in our own way, but not that way. The idea of having to share Mimi with people he barely knows and hardly likes it a big threat to him, and yet he clearly knows he has no real business openly complaining about it because those people are Mimi's actual kids, not random strangers coming to usurp him."

"...So...whatever happens, it's on me to figure out how to make everyone happy..." Mikhail said, finishing the thought, "Yuri...did he give you any ideas on what I could do that he'd even want?"

He shook his head, "Not really. He was mostly worried about how the Final will go with your kids being around. He didn't mention anything about what would happen after."

"...Maybe you could call him." Viktor suggested, continuing his idle stroke across his husband's bare skin, "You don't even have to make it seem like it's because any of us talked."

"Yeah...he wouldn't have to know I called you at all. Make it seem like you just wanted to find out what was up with him after his outburst during your call with Minako-sensei."

"I already tried, for that exact reason." Mikhail sighed, "He wouldn't pick up."

"He might've still been in the onsen at that point. He was still sitting in it when Viktor and I left." Yuri suggested, one leg unconsciously slipping up from where it was perched over the Russian's upturned hip, settling into the curve of the man's waist instead, "Try calling again."

Slate eyes turned to where that pale limb moved, then back again to see where the younger figure's cheeks were starting to get pink. He smiled quietly to himself, hand still gently sliding back and forth, no change in its path, "I've known Yurio for a pretty long time. He can wear you down by being difficult and confrontational." Viktor explained, "Heck, the very first thing he said to me when we first met was, 'Don't confuse me for one of these other idiots. I don't care that you're famous. I'll be better than you one day.' Then he pretended I didn't exist for nearly a month. You know, just to show me who was boss." He laughed.

"Really?" The younger skater wondered, looking back at him, not noticing how his own breathing was getting heavier, "How old was he back then?"

"Twelve or something." The Russian answered, leaning slightly over the man and sliding that hand further up his chest as he went, giving that 'tell me about yourself' smile as he inched in closer to look into those brown eyes, "He'd gone to one of Yakov's summer ballet-and-skating camps and was later picked to be part of the official Russian Team, so he was in St. Petersburg taking a tour, and I happened to be at the rink at the time. I tried to say hi to him, since Yakov said he'd be on the Junior team and would be training with us by the next week." His fingers glided over star-lit skin, pausing just under Yuri's chin before going back down to his core again, "He just swatted my hand away and stood there all indignantly. He came to us as the Russian Tiger...but that day, he became the Russian Punk."

"So he's been an angry little bean for a really long time." Mikhail commented, oblivious to everything else going on at the other end of the call. He put a finger on his chin, "He wouldn't believe me if I just told him I wasn't going to just dump him somewhere. Ahhhh...this is frustrating...I have to wait until I get to Detroit to fix this..."

"Call him anyway." Yuri suggested; a hand slid up his ribs, moving up under his arms, and he instinctively raised both of them up, letting them dangle off the edge of the bed. He couldn't help but close his eyes, fully aware at that point what his husband was trying to do to him, "...I'm sure he'd appreciate it, even if you don't talk about much."

"Maybe... If he'd answer my damn calls..."

"Text him so he knows you're not mad at him. Then he'll pick up." The young skater pointed out, trying not to give himself away as his partner pressed himself against the side of his chest, hair teasing at his skin where Viktor had gone to nibble on his neck and earlobe, hand continuing to paw at his abdomen.

"...You really think it'll be that easy?"

The younger Russian pulled back at that point, sliding his free hand down from his partner's tummy to the leg that had curled over his waist, teasing a few fingers along his skin as he moved it up to settle just above the inside of his knee, "Uncle Mimi...Yurio craves affirmation. He wants someone to be proud of him. He just puts up walls and plays hard-to-get because he's terrified he'll find out that no one actually is."

"...I am proud of him. He's just been a bit of a shit lately and won't let me in long enough for me to tell him." Mikhail lamented, "You know, he called me a little idiot when he brought me to meet with Yakov? Then he shrugged at me and said he wouldn't be surprised if I was gone by the end of NHK, with a tone like it didn't matter to him. That was way before the thing with my kids even came up!"

"Text him. Call him. Do something nice for him when you see him in Detroit." Viktor said simply, finally sliding that hand down his husband's inner thigh, fingers creeping into the loose folds of fabric around the man's hips, "For now though, we have to go~."

"Eh? Just like that?" Mikhail was a bit surprised.

"I'm on the verge of getting Yuri to make some very inappropriate noises." The younger Russian mused, "Those are for my ears only."

"...Oh." The elder deadpanned the empty room ahead of him, smiling nervously, "...I swear, Vivi...if it were darker here, I think I'd be able to see a dim glow on the horizon where you'd just made his face go bright red."

Indeed, the hapless man was practically illuminated from embarrassment, especially as he felt the Russian's tongue trail up the side of his chest, the fingers that had snuck into his boxers through the leg-hole getting precariously close to tender flesh, "...V-Viktor...!" He gasped helplessly.

"Aright aright, I'm going. Talk to you kids later." Mikhail said, flustered as he clicked the call-exit button on his phone's touch-screen. His own face was slightly pink for having been exposed to even that little amount of their foreplay, but he shook his head and drew in a breath, thinking then about his nephew's last bit of advice, putting a finger on his chin in thought, "...Do something nice for Yura... What would he even want though?"

It took a moment, but when the idea hit him, it hit like a brick, and he suddenly went rushing out of Viktor's old house. He paused only long enough to lock the place up again, but quickly went over to his nephew's Audi and hopped in, turning his phone into a temporary wifi hotspot so he could use his tablet online.

I wonder how big those supposedly life-size tiger plush toys can get...?