CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED TWENTY EIGHT
It was nearly 1pm before the sleepy Asian skater finally forced himself out of bed, though doing so as slowly as was humanly possible. Ten minutes of just his feet sticking out from under the blanket, over the edge of the mattress, then at least 5 where he at least had his toes touching the floor. He sat up eventually, only to doze off again and flop back to the side, landing with a soft paft into the pillow-pile again. A bark from downstairs roused him a little more, and he pushed back up to sitting, rubbing his eyes and ruffling his messy hair. Without his glasses or contact lenses in, the world was slightly blurry, so after standing, reaching up for a long and far too satisfying stretch, he hobbled his naked self towards the bathroom to put his eyes in.
A few minutes later, he looked and felt a bit more human, pulling a bathrobe over himself before wandering down the hall towards the narrow stairwell. Bare feet hardly made a sound over the carpeted steps, moving to the hardwood at the bottom, and pausing. Cherry-hazel eyes glanced around the open living-room area, seeing a mess of open, though empty bags and suitcases, as well as the rolling clothing rack with all the season's current outfits hanging from it. Baskets of dirty laundry, as well as small piles of clean laundry stacked on the blue couch, were spread around as well. Despite the chaos, it seemed somewhat organized. A closer look revealed how a few of his souvenirs had been spaced out along some shelves or on a counter dividing the living-room from the kitchen...and finally, the best souvenir of all; the very unique, one-of-a-kind Russian World Champion figure skater.
He had nestled himself into a corner near the stove, twiddling around on his phone while something brewed just behind him, "I heard you beginning your Great Struggle." Viktor said quietly, giving a wink over the top of the small device as he watched his hazy husband come shuffling closer, slowly but surely.
Yuri kept walking, not deviating from his path or even slowing down until he was physically stopped by his partner's body being in front of him. Wordlessly, the young figure slid his arms around the man's sides and lower back, resting the side of his head against a shoulder, and closed his eyes again, as though ready to fall asleep right there and then.
Viktor just smiled and rolled with it, wrapping his arms around the smaller skater and holding him close, rubbing a cheek against the man's forehead where he dozed, "Maybe I spoke to soon. It seems that The Great Struggle continues."
"Mhm."
Sensing an opportunity, and still having his phone in his hand, the silver Russian clicked open his camera and took a quick selfie, raising his arm up to take the photo from above them and giving another wink at the lens as it clicked. Yuri hardly noticed, half-asleep where he was standing anyway. Viktor moved his arms back to hold his beloved a little while longer, rocking him slowly and gently from side to side as the coffee brewer behind him finished sputtering.
"You've been busy already." Yuri finally managed, opening his eyes a little, but not moving otherwise, "When did you get up?"
"Around 9 or something." The Russian answered, sliding his right hand up to cup around his husband's head and play idly with the mess of raven hair, "I checked the shipping status on our stuff right before falling asleep last night, and it said to anticipate a 10am delivery, so I made sure to be up for it. I figured I'd let you sleep. Considering the hour, you probably needed it."
"Mhh...I'd sleep all day if you let me..." The younger figure admitted, pulling his head up from where it had been settled and turning to look at his partner more squarely, only to find the man lean straight towards him to, for lack of better terms, plant their faces together in a lazy-but-well-meant kiss. The Russian was smiling about it the whole time though, so Yuri could only assume he'd meant for it to be that way, and let himself be drawn in.
They held a moment, but Viktor eventually pulled back again, stroking his partner's hair to unruffle it a little, "We only have three days before we're already on another plane, so I'm afraid I have to limit your all-day snooze-fest to just one of those days." He explained, though fondly, then reaching back to pull the colorful mug from the tray behind him, "Here. I made you coffee. Drink, relax, wake up...and then we go~."
"Go...?"
"To Yu-Topia and then to the Ice Castle!" Viktor explained, getting excited, "I have to make sure you don't get squishy while we're home! Plus I said I'd help your friend with the Loop still."
"Phichit-kun said he landed it at the Exhibition. Remember? He texted me about it when we were still in the hall."
The Russian's expression didn't change...except for the blinking, "...Of course. Sure he did."
"You forgot."
"Mmmmhhhhh...maybe a little bit..."
Yuri just huffed a quiet laugh against the surface of the coffee, and turned to head to the circular dining table near the wall between the kitchen and sliding glass door to the back yard. Makkachin was out in the snow, chasing a few small black birds that flitted about on the fence, "Sounds like you need coffee as much as I do."
"Oh yeah, it'll only be my 3rd cup." Viktor explained nervously, leaning back against the counter again as his partner sat at the table, gently blowing on the drink to cool it, "I'll be bouncing off the walls and I'll still be forgetful."
"Maybe it's the answer to the question of whether you can pull off an 8-quad Free Skate again, without having someone lighting another fire under your butt." The younger figure cocked his head back and gave a wry smirk, the coffee mug perched between his hands where his elbows were up on the tabletop.
"Hah...that was a once-off." The Russian insisted, setting another cup on the metal tray in front of the coffee maker, though putting in a K-cup of hot chocolate instead, "...I'll probably only do 3 quads at the Final." He said warily, waiting for the resistance.
"Oh. ...Okay."
"...'Okay'?" Viktor echoed, cautiously turning his head back as he clicked the Start button, then crossed his arms and leaned back against the tile counter like he'd been originally, "...Just 'okay'?"
"Should I say something else...?" Yuri wondered, setting the mug down a little as he turned in his chair.
The silver figure remained quiet, but eventually shook his head, reaching for the cocoa as the machine buzzed and clicked that it was done. Socked feet glided across the floor, and Viktor took the other seat, setting the mug down as he reached across the table to loosely curl his fingers around his partner's hand. He thumbed at the gold a little, "Like you said, I just did an 8-quad Free Program. Reducing my line-up to 3 probably seemed drastic. I thought you'd be upset again like last time I suggested it."
"It is drastic..." Yuri agreed, "But, like you said...it's second nature for you to hide your pain, and I can't tell if you're hurting right now." He said quietly, watching his husband's thumb go slowly back and forth across his wedding band, "When we got into that fight about it before, Phichit-kun told me what I should've known since the beginning...that I should be supporting you, rather than questioning you like you don't know what you're doing. My argument back then was that...you're Viktor Nikiforov, you always do 4 quads. But...now, it's more like, you're the only one who knows your limits. If you only want to do 3 quads...then..."
Viktor listened intently, holding his thumb still.
"...I'll just have to mentally prepare myself for the epic 'JJ style' meltdown when you beat the guy who insists on going for six."
The Russian blinked, tilting his head a little, but then slouched back in his chair and laughed, "Don't jinx me. I'll be the one having a melt-down if I take it down a notch and he takes Gold because of it. He's been trying to usurp me for a few years now." He huffed, much to Yuri's amusement, and they both sipped at their drinks again. Viktor set the mug down and looked into the ripples, "You know, his 'King JJ' song last season was written specifically with defeating me in mind? He must've been furious when he found out I was taking off to coach for a bit."
"...You seem to have a low opinion of JJ. Every time I've seen you guys interact, you give him the cold shoulder, even more so than the rest of us." Yuri wondered, "Did he do something to make you mad...?"
"He's just an arrogant up-start." The Russian shrugged.
.
"Well well, if it isn't Viktor Nikiforov, come to grace us Continentals with his shining presence." Came a voice, one that Viktor only barely heard.
He turned around cheerfully, but his expression stalled as he realized Jean-Jacque Leroy was standing there with his fiancé, "Oh, hi JJ."
"Too good for your own Championship?"
"I'm not here to compete." Viktor explained stiffly, "I hope that'll spare you more final-round jitters."
"You're not the one to beat anymore." JJ retorted.
"I suppose that's true, for now anyway. I'll be a competitor at Worlds."
"That's what I've heard." JJ pulled his sunglasses off his nose and settled them on top of his head, "But you'll have to outdo your own record if you want to get on the podium again."
"I don't see why I won't. I'm the one that set the record in the first place. I can always do better than I did in previous seasons." The silver Russian casually put his hands in his pockets, cocking his head to the side, "You've never been able to beat me before."
"Not yet, but my time's come. I'm a prime contender for gold at Worlds."
"You were a prime contender for gold at the GPF, too, and you barely coasted to bronze by the grace of other peoples' shortcomings." The older skater retorted playfully, "Yuri and Yurio will be ones on the podium with me at Worlds, I guarantee it."
"We'll see, old man." JJ laughed, turning back with his dark-haired fiancé to continue their tour of the facility. He raised his hand sarcastically in a taunting wave, "Pretty soon the only gold you'll see is the gold on your finger! We'll see how long that lasts after one of you quits skating!"
.
Viktor grit his teeth at the memory, and shook his head, "His taunts go all the way back to his Senior debut. He was shuffled around to a bunch of different coaches and home-rinks, but each one of them told him off eventually."
"...Yeah, him and Celestino didn't get along that well when he came to Detroit for a bit."
"...Oh, wow, yeah." The silver skater touched a finger to his lip in thought, "That would've been right in the middle of when you and Phichit were there."
"JJ was only around for a week. It was pretty obvious that they didn't see on a level with each other."
"And you're still wondering why he and I don't get along?" Viktor huffed a laugh, "The guy never seems to learn, no matter how many times he's knocked down."
"Some would say that makes him strong."
"And others would say it means he has his head too far up his own backside." The silver legend shrugged, touching the rim of his mug as he leaned back in his chair, "For a guy who changed coaches more often than his underwear, and having to go back to his parents in the end...I think he should've checked his ego a long time ago. Mark my words..." He leaned forward again, holding up a finger for emphasis.
"Uh oh..."
"...Huh?"
"Here it comes. Premonition time." Yuri said nervously, crossing his own fingers and looking up, "Please don't let it be bad."
Viktor cleared his throat, wondering if he should say anything then, but then shook his head, "...Mark my words." He repeated, "One of these days, his ego is going to get someone hurt. Hopefully mostly him."
"...Ahhh it's bad...!" The younger skater threw his arms into the air, "Now something's going to happen!"
"...Oh bah, my predictions usually take at least 2 weeks to come true. The Final is in 4 days. We should be free and clear of any disasters by the time it strikes."
"...I hope you're right." Yuri whined quietly, slouching where he sat until he slid down the front of the chair, "...I just want one event this season to be disaster-free...! Just one!"
.
Though the flight from Fukuoka began late and ended late, by the time the plane landed, Minako felt like the many hours she'd spent inside the flying space-tube had only actually been one hour. With Japan being so far ahead on the clock compared to Edmonton, she technically only arrived shortly having left to begin with.
She walked down the long connecting tunnel between the plane and the arrivals terminal, pulling the strap of her bag a bit higher on her shoulder, stepping out of the pack of travelers that were in a much bigger hurry than she was to get a move on. Weary and anxious, she looked around the huge open space, pausing to check every row of departing passenger seats to see if her partner was waiting in any of them. Not spotting the mop of silver-grey hair anywhere, or the practically-copyrighted flat-cap that normally sat upon it, she started walking forward again.
Left and right, ahead and behind, the ballerina looked, scanning every face that passed her, but saw none that were familiar. For lack of else to do, she pulled out her phone and dialed the man's phone, stepping off to the side to avoid being a speed-bump to other travelers.
To her surprise, she heard a familiar jingle rather close to where she stood, and she lifted her head, ears practically perked up to try and find the source of the sound. Surprisingly, her own phone kept on with the dial-tone, trying to connect, and the ring-tone she followed didn't cease, making her wonder even more if she'd really managed to find the man...
...Or maybe he dropped his phone somewhere and that's why he still hasn't answered?
She rounded one last corner of the homey-feeling airport, and stuck her head inside a Tim Horton's café, spotting a hunched-over figure, passed out cold on a table in the opposite corner, back towards her. She shook her head and laughed, about to disconnect the call and just approach him, only to suddenly find the man shaking awake and frantically reacting for the ringing device in his jacket.
"H-Hey!" He called out anxiously, "Sorry! I must've fallen asleep." He looked down at the table-top to realize he'd drooled all over it, and quirked a brow in surprise at himself.
"It's fine, hun. Did you have to wait long?" Minako answered, as though having no idea where he was, and slowly backing out of the café in case he turned around. She just watched him reaching for a napkin-holder to the right, wiping up the slobber he'd left behind in his exhaustion.
"My flight landed a bit early." Mikhail answered, turning his face away from the phone as he covered a yawn, "Did you land already or are you still taxiing?"
"No, I landed." She answered, smiling deviously and trying not to laugh, "I just came into the terminal."
The Russian grabbed the long-cold coffee cup just in front of him and promptly stood up, straightening himself out and adjusting his coat and hat before stepping briskly to leave the café, "Great, stay where you are then, I'll come right over. I went to grab coffee right after I landed, but I guess my brain had a different plan."
"Yeah, I'm pretty tired, too." The ballerina agreed, watching the silver-haired figure come sauntering quickly out, pausing only to toss his expired drink away, and passed her entirely without notice, "Oh, I think I see you."
"You do?" He stopped dead in his tracks, only 10 paces in front of the woman, and entirely oblivious to her presence, "Where are you?"
"Close." She answered, tip-toeing nearer, her flats making it easy to keep her footsteps well-hidden under the rest of the airport's ambient noise.
Mikhail was up on his toes as well, trying to see over the scant other travelers in an effort to spot the woman somewhere down the big open hall, knowing the Gate she was supposed to come through, but not seeing her, "Can you wave or something? I can't tell where you are past all these other people."
"I'm here. Can't you see me?" She said quietly.
"I don't see you at all!" Mikhail lamented, side-stepping and weaving through pedestrians, but eventually stopping and going back down on his heels, "...Should I just stand here since you can tell where I am?"
"Yes, but you'd see me better if you were facing the right direction."
"...Aren't you coming from Gate 6? I can see the sign numbers from here... How can I not see you?"
Minako pulled the phone away, and stood right behind him, "Because I'm already here."
"...Eh?" Mikhail pulled his phone away as well, wondering why it sounded different. He turned on a heel to get out of peoples' way and put the phone back in place, "I think my reception is going out. I'll just stay heEEYAHHHH!"
Travelers all around suddenly stopped and turned to look at the grown man who'd just screamed like a little boy.
Minako busted out laughing at him.
"HolyChristhowlongwereyoustandingthere!?" He barked between clenched teeth, holding both hands in front of his chest like he thought his heart would claw its way out if he didn't block the way.
She was practically incapable of speech, bowled over at his expense. She fanned herself with one hand as the other held to her phone, a finger stuck out so she could wipe the tears from her eyes.
"Ijustaboutdied." The hapless Russian went on, finally clicking out of the call and putting the device away, his heart still jackhammering under his skin. He barely had time to pull his hand back out of his coat before the ballerina made good use of her dramatic skills, pirouetting in place and kicking out a leg, arms going way out to the side.
"Ta-da!" She finally managed, then standing normally again to put her bag back into place on her shoulder, and smiled innocently, "I was behind you when you originally answered your phone. You weren't at the Gate when I came in so I called to find out where you were. I didn't think you'd be passed out."
Mikhail drew in a rough breath, feeling his heart calming again, but instead of simply replying, he reached for her hands to pull them over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her tightly, "My insomnia got the better of me. I'm absolutely wide awake now though, sheesh."
The ballerina laughed again, but returned the hug fondly, kicking one leg up again in her excitement, "I couldn't sleep much either." She pulled back from his shoulder as her free leg went down to the floor again, a thumb on each cheek as she looked at him squarely, "Let's get moving then. Tomorrow's going to be nuts, so we need all the sleep we can get."
The Russian nodded, a sense of relief washing over him as he felt his lady love lean in to kiss him. His heart managed to skip a beat for the joy of it, even if it was still strained from the previous terror-event. When she pulled back again, he drew a deep breath and reached to take the ballerina's bag, swinging it over his own shoulder as he took her hand in the other, "Couldn't agree more."