CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED THIRTY FIVE
"Yuuuri! Open the door!"
Banging could be heard all the way in the common room. Viktor stood vigil at the bottom of the stairs, dressed down in resort-ware, with a loose-fitting long-robe and slippers, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"Maybe I'll just go back to St. Petersburg, where I won't be such a huge fucking burden to everyone!"
"That's not what I said! Yuri! Let me in!"
Slate eyes turned slightly as the yelling went on. The silver Russian could hear the sound of angry footsteps stomping along the floor, followed by the door suddenly sliding open with a loud clatter of wood where it hit the barrier-post at the limits of its range.
"HOW ABOUT THE BOTH OF YOU DO EVERYONE A FAVOR AND JUMP INTO HASETSU BAY YOURSELVES!?"
The door slammed shut again, and an awkward silence befell the resort's halls for a good long while. Just as Viktor was about to go up and see what was going on, he could hear the sad shuffle of bare feet along the wood floor, starting to come down the stairs slowly. By the time the anxious Japanese skater remerged from the upper level of the building, even Hiroko and Mari had shown up, wondering what was going on.
Yuri came reluctantly around the corner, his eyes low as his hand trailed softly on the wall. He couldn't bear to raise them even as he recognize his spouse by the corner. Wanting to say something, the skater had parted his lips, but the words wouldn't come.
Viktor could sense it, and simply held his hand out, waiting for his partner to take it before leading him back to the common room. Phichit was in there, and Makkachin was snoozing nearby, both of them lifting their heads as the pair strode in quietly, taking a seat at one of the low tables at the back of the room. The poodle hoisted himself to his feet and walked over, only to flop back down next to where his human had sat down and fell asleep again. Viktor pat the dog's head for a bit, but his attention was still mostly on his wordless husband.
"Yuri."
Miserable brown eyes turned slightly towards him, but like before, no words came.
The Russian sighed, "This is part of why I'm saying no." He explained, giving the man's hand a gentle squeeze, "Yes, Yurio has changed...he's made a lot of progress and grown as a person...but the saying about how 'the more things change, the more they stay the same' still applies. The only difference now is who's filling the roles of the characters in his story. You've become what I used to be...and I've become what you used to be. But I know you, and that's why I know what's going to happen."
Yuri just leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table, burying his face within them.
"The trouble with all of it though is that, even though Yurio's perception of you has changed, you haven't." Viktor went on, reaching over to softly rub his partner's shoulders, moving across them and then sliding down the man's back before going up and starting again, "You're still the skater with a Heart of Glass, and Yurio really doesn't need to kick that hard for you to break."
"...Now you're just telling me I'm weak..."
"You're not weak. You just care too much sometimes."
"What am I suppose to do then?" Yuri wondered, turning his head so he could peek one red eye past the side of his arm, "Stop caring outright?"
"You don't have to stop caring, but I've said it before and I'll say it again...let Uncle Mimi figure this out." Viktor said quietly, leaning in to kiss at the back of the man's neck where he could get at it, and held there with one arm around him, "Yurio's got problems that you can't fix. Trying and failing anyway is just...a really long-winded way of letting him down."
The younger figure held for a while, letting the words sink in. He slowly unfolded where one of his arms crossed in front of him, and reached under his chest to where he could feel his spouse's fingers still holding to his side, grasping at them softly.
Feeling it, Viktor pulled him in closer, whispering into his ear, "I've tried to be better about how I handle you and Yurio being friends since things went south in France, but at some point I have to put your well-being ahead of that friendship. I wouldn't be living up to my vows if I didn't."
"This whole time..." Yuri said between shaky breaths, rubbing his eyes on the sleeve of his spa-jacket, "I thought you were just...being mean to him..."
"No..." The Russian pulled him from the hug and kissed the edge of his partner's shoulder, "Refusing to be Yurio's coach was less out of malice for him, and more out of being protective over you."
"Vik-chan...?" Hiroko's voice came from the nearby doorway.
Crystal-blue eyes looked up and back, seeing the woman there with a tray of food in her hands.
"Is this a bad time...?"
"No, it's fine." He answered, moving to sit upright again, his arm sliding across his partner's back as he moved.
The older woman stepped into the room and started setting things out on the table in front of her son-in-law, though when she was done, she moved aside to crouch next to her youngest child. In front of him, she placed a simple bowl of miso soup, and next to it, a bowl of plain rice. She touched a hand to her son's arm briefly and nosed the side of his forehead affectionately, and smiled when she felt the nudge of the skater's head to acknowledge it, "If you boys need anything else, just let us know, okay?"
"Mh." Yuri nodded, smiling as well as he could in spite of what had happened, "Thanks mom."
"Thanks mom~!" Viktor added.
.
The young skater wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep for when he woke up, but when he did, he found himself back-to-back with Makkachin on the floor of the common room, his head resting on his husband's leg. The lights were low, and the very quiet sound of the television playing on the far wall filled the room, along with its flickering glow. Yuri pushed up slowly in a slight haze, feeling his partner's hand come off his side where it had been resting, and rose instead to stroke his hair, "...W-what time is it...?"
"About 1am." The Russian answered, "Everyone else went to bed."
"...Have you been awake this whole time?" The skater wondered sleepily, rubbing his eyes on a knuckle.
"Da."
Makkachin's tail started to quietly thump against the floor where it wagged, but the pup kept his head down for the moment.
"You fell asleep after you had your soup and I didn't have the heart to wake you up." The Russian explained simply, "You ready to go home?"
.
"I still can't believe you bought this thing." Yuri said, trying to carry the massive bouquet through their front door.
They hadn't bothered changing out of their spa robes before throwing their jackets, scarves, and boots on for the quick car-ride home. Makkachin trotted in excitedly, nails clacking on the hardwood floor, then to the tile in the kitchen.
"Why?" Viktor laughed, locking the door behind them and helping maneuver the huge thing to their dining room table.
"As an apology to my butt?"
"Sure." The chuckle went on, even as a hand slid across that very derriere. The younger figure just squeaked when he felt it, clenching up a bit from the surprise, but was grateful that the huge pot of flowers was safely set down before it happened, "Am I still grounded?" The Russian purred, his hand sliding around to pet his partner's stomach over the thick coat, nibbling affectionately at the man's ear.
.
It didn't take much to find out. Pale, bare legs swayed gently back and forth, ankles trying to cross but never quite managing. Wrists loosely overlapped behind a silver-haired head, forearms resting gently over shoulders. Toes splayed out, and those legs clamped down against the figure rocking between them; a quiet string of gasps becoming a few desperate cries, then panting.
The Russian descended a little, moving from a direct downward gaze into his partner's eyes to kiss at the man's neck instead. A few carefully-timed thrusts later, and the silver figure gasped out his pleasure as well, descending into his partner's embrace. He touched their brows together lightly, each of them lightly gasping for breath.
The larger athlete slowly turned to lie on his side, reluctantly pulling free of his husband's warmth, but snuggling up close next to him soon after. He huffed a quiet laugh, "I guess...that means you accepted my apology."
"GotosleepViktor."
"I love you, too."
.
With the late night descending on Japan, it was technically mid-morning of the previous day in the western-central part of Canada. A clerk came to the Rozovsky house to pick up the rental car, driving off with it and the transport wagon that had brought the pair there. With that done, Mikhail went back towards the garage, and closed the second car-port while simultaneously opening the first, revealing the blue Mercedes S550 hybrid to the open Edmonton air for the first time since summer. Fully charged and ready to go, the wheels crunched on compacted snow, pulling down the long drive-way and turning to go out into the wide world.
"...So are you some kind of Russian oligarch or something?"
Mikhail nearly choked from laughing, having to pull over for a moment to get air back into his lungs. They hadn't even made it out of the neighborhood yet.
Minako just gawked at him, "I'm being serious!"
"You really think this is that fancy?"
"You said this car was worth nearly $100,000!"
The elder Russian reached over and pat her knee gently, "Dearest Lady, true Russian oligarchs wouldn't be driving goat-spittle like this."
"Goat-spittle?" She echoed, quirking a brow, "What does that make the little Toyota I let Viktor borrow then?"
"Chicken-spittle?" He offered, moving the car forward again as he kept laughing under his breath, "I can get you something else if you want."
"Don't even go there, Mikhail Rozovsky. You know I could never let you do something like that for me."
"I just did it for Kon, and I happen to like you quite a bit more than him."
"Absolutely not!"
"Let me buy you a nicer, newer car!"
"Noooo!"
"Why not?" He looked almost hurt.
"I don't want to feel like I owe you something!"
"Ahh...what a dreadful world we live in... Can't even do something nice for someone anymore without everyone wondering what you're ulterior motives are." The Russian sighed, "I guess I'll just have to settle for drinks and sandwiches for now. Mark my words though..."
Minako gazed at him somewhat suspiciously.
"...One day, you'll agree to marry me, and everything will be swell!"
The ballerina would've spit her coffee out if she had one yet. She just gaped at the man, seeing how pleased he seemed with himself over there behind the steering wheel.
But with that, and a short detour to get some fancy, overpriced coffees, they were leaving south out of Edmonton. The long trip south to Calgary, swinging west on the outskirts, and then finally for the last, comparatively short trek towards the mountains. The closer they got to Banff though, the quieter Mikhail became. Once they'd pulled off of the Trans-Canada highway and onto the main road leading into the small city proper, he was like a different person. It wasn't long before they were pulling up in front of the Banff Community High School.
The elder Russian drew in a nervous breath as he parked the car across the street, in the lot for the IGA grocery store.
Minako watched him quietly, seeing how the man's hands shook slightly where he still held to the wheel. She reached over and clasped her fingers around the nearest one and gave a gentle squeeze, "It'll be fine. I'm sure of it."
"Everything changes today." He answered anxiously, "I've been waiting for almost 10 years to get my kids back. I thought they'd age out and move on with their lives before it ever happened...and now that it's about to, it's still hard to believe."
"One step at a time."
The Russian nodded and turned the car off, and the pair stepped out on each of their sides. The Mercedes beeped to lock again as they started heading back towards the corner. As they waited there for their turn to cross, Minako glanced over; for a brief moment, with the sun shining just right, the elder looked more like his nephew than he ever had. Except, for that second, he looked like a version of Viktor that was going to war. The pedestrian lights changed to green, and Mikhail started walking, pausing right after to glance back as he felt the hesitant tug where he held her hand.
"Coming?" He wondered.
"Ah...yeah, sorry hun. Had an old-lady moment."
They hurried across the street, and found a place near the school's front doors to wait for the bells to ring. Minako gazed around the area, looking at the mountains all around, and at the three tall pine-trees that rose from the middle of the front rotunda. They were taller than the flagpole just behind them, bearing the Canadian flag, flapping gently in the breeze.
"It's beautiful out here, at least." The ballerina commented, "I wouldn't mind staying here a while if we had to."
Mikhail grumbled a little at that, "...Forgive me, but this place lost its luster to me a long time ago. I can only stand to be here for a few hours at a time before my hackles are raised so high that I start to worry if people can see them through my clothes."
"I'll just give you another deep-tissue massage." The woman offered with a knowing smile.
The Russian just stuttered, "N-No! That's okay! You can keep your torture-mitts to yourself this time!"
They moved over towards one of the long bike-racks near a chain-link fence, and as Mikhail leaned against it, he pulled out his phone and loaded up his youngest daughter's contact window. He typed in a quick message, and then hesitated, looking towards his lady love.
"...Here we go."
"Deep breaths."
The text message was sent, and it seemed like an eternity went by...when in fact, only three seconds had, when suddenly a door just to their right slammed open with urgency.
"DAD."
"Oh jeeze." Mikhail seized up, seeing Nikkita there with her silver hair waving in the wind, looking straight at him with those piercing Rozovsky eyes. He waved nervously, not even having a chance to put his phone away before he was bowled over the other side of the bike-rack by the young teen rushing at him and launching into a hug, "Back! Back! Nikki I'm old and frail!"
It didn't do any good. He ended up on the ground anyway, snow crunching and flying all over where he landed. The girl's long, wavy hair went all over the place, shimmering like polished platinum under the Canadian winter sun.
"Dad!" She started again, all but crying by then, "I wish you'd gotten here sooner! Sergie's been absolutely intolerable!"
"I've gotten that impression." Mikhail said in a daze, looking past his daughter to the woman beyond her looking down at him, "Help me up?"
Nikkita pulled off and stood on her own, but then offered a hand alongside Minako to get the man back up as well. The youngest of the three Rozovsky teens glanced at the ballerina, "...I...forgot your name, I'm sorry. ...Mina...Minako?"
The woman nodded, "You remembered."
"I'm glad you came with dad." The teen went on as Mikhail huffed and puffed behind her, rubbing his back where he'd landed on it, and trying futilely to get the flat-cap where it had been knocked off his head, "Maybe Sergio will listen to you." She stepped forward a little, holding her arms close, but then extending them, "...Can I?"
Minako was taken aback by it, but didn't even think to refuse the girl, smiling and opening her arms as well to let the teen get close. There was an almost palpable sense of relief when the little lady hugged her, and Minako just hugged her all the tighter for it, "I'm sorry you had to go through all this by yourselves. We'll do what we can to make it right, okay?"
"We're going to have to move, won't we?" Nikki asked quietly, her tone almost resigned to that fate already, and she looked to her struggling father, "...Right dad?"
Mikhail finally managed to sweep his arm low enough to grab his hat, and fluffed it out before setting it back into place again and turning towards her, a bit enamored that his daughter would be clinging to Minako the way she was. He nodded though, "You guys all know I don't like it here. But...it's a talk we all have to have together. I'm not just going to uproot you like your lives here don't matter."
The school-bell rang within the building, and the area started buzzing with activity. Students began pouring out of the various doors. Before too long, Nikkita was waving to her older sister from where she still stood in the ballerina's arms, "Hey! Viktoria! Over here! Dad came!"
The goth-but-not-quite looking teen turned her eyes up, looking from her sister, to the Japanese woman standing behind her, and then to the darkly clad, silver-haired Russian that could only be her father, "Hey, pipaw." She turned to the group of three that she'd been walking with, said something, and departed, making her way over towards the growing group. She stopped briefly, her heavily-belted knee-boots thunking almost as loudly on the walkway as the blade-guards of skates did, and she drew in a breath. Her look of anxiety changed to happiness though, and she hopped forward to jump into her father's waiting embrace, "It's good that you're back. We really missed you."
"Sorry it took so long to get here." He answered, stroking the teen's long, multicolored hair, "I wish I knew sooner what had happened."
"Everything just happened so fast..." Viktoria explained, pulling back from the hug to set some loose strands over her ear, "We should go though. Sergio's not going to wait for the bus like we would be, and if he spots you, he'll take off."
"Is it that bad? He's not even driving you guys home anymore?" Mikhail wondered, looking from the teen to the ballerina, giving an uncertain look.
"We don't go with him." Nikki corrected, "He nearly got us all into a wreck the last time we rode together."
"We should leave, in that case." The woman agreed, "If he goes home thinking we aren't here, maybe we can catch him there."
"Yeah..." The elder Russian nodded, turning to start heading to the crosswalk again, "Do you guys have all your stuff?"
The two girls nodded.
"Alright...let's get this thing started then."