CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FIFTY

The last skater arriving for the Grand Prix Final was the previous year's Gold medalist, sauntering into Chicago O'Hare International Airport with a certain anxious member of the Katsuki Clan at around 12am local time for the final layover. In usual fashion, the blonde glanced around the terminal, and pulled his hoodie down, hiding his face a bit more behind the black surgical mask he already wore, and avoiding potential recognition even by the most hardened of late-night travelers.

Mari, on the other hand, made a B-Line for the nearest smoking lounge, "Don't run off! The next plane leaves in 90 minutes!"

"I won't!" Yurio barked back, completely defeating the purpose of being inconspicuous. He glanced at the ticket in his hand and looked around for the next Gate to wait at. Pocketing it again, he pulled on the straps of his leopard-print backpack and started marching onward, pausing only briefly to get a soda from one of the few late-night kiosks still taking customers.

Unscrewing the top and hearing the hiss of the dark-colored carbonated drink, he took a sip...and immediately spat it out in horror. On his phone, showing the Instagram feed for the first time since leaving Japan hours before...was the news of the Men's Singles accident.

SKATERS YURI NIKIFOROV AND JEAN-JACQUE LEROY RUSHED TO HOSPITAL AFTER COLLISION

MEN'S SINGLES TAKES A HIT AS YURI AND JJ COLLIDE ON ICE

IS THIS THE END OF THE GRAND PRIX FOR THE MEN'S EVENT? WITH ONLY FOUR SKATERS REMAINING, CAN THEY EVEN HAVE A COMPETITION...?

He stood there in the middle of the terminal, brows furrowed with anxiety and worry, seeing the footage of the accident as recorded on someone's camera-phone from the above-rink lounge. Another was posted from security-camera footage. A third by Otabek's coach, who had been sitting in the stands at the time.

"Holy Hell." Yurio muttered to himself, pulling the mask down with a finger as he watched the last video, seeing how Otabek stood there in lonesome silence for a while after everything had ended. He immediately went over to his contact list and dialed up his Kazakhstani friend, listening impatiently to the ring-tone as it went on.

Mercifully, there was a bleary, tired answer after 5 rings, "...Yuri?"

"Otabek!" The teen called out, louder than he meant to, and recoiling down to try and appear inconspicuous again as he started moving down the hall, "I just landed in Chicago and saw the news. What the actual fuck...? Are you okay? You just stood there."

The older skater pushed up onto an elbow where he'd been trying to sleep, blinking his dark eyes slowly as they adjusted to the dark of his room, "...I was a bit shaken up, that's all." He moved further up to sit, resting that elbow on a knee where he crossed his legs and leaned forward, "There's going to be a big meeting about the Men's Singles in the morning. I've heard rumors that the ISU is considering cancelling it outright since there'd only be 3 competitors left."

"...Three? Your mean Four."

"After what happened in China, I don't know that Viktor will be willing or able to skate if his Yuri can't. That leaves you, me, and Chris."

"...Oh. Right."

There was a slight pause, and Otabek dragged his legs out from under the blankets, letting them hang over the edge of the mattress as he faced away from the second bed where his coach was still trying to sleep, "But I've also heard that they may swap in Phichit, too...it's anyone's guess at this point."

"...Have you heard anything about the other Yuri? I saw the headlines but no one's had any new information since the ambulances left, and Viktor hasn't posted anything at all." Yurio could see the number for his Gate close at hand, stepping quietly through the terminal towards it.

"You're probably more up to date than I am then. I've been trying to sleep for..." The Kazakh pulled his phone away and looked at the time, and then moved it back again, "...2 hours."

"Oh. Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Otabek deadpanned the dark, "...Yes."

"Oh." Yurio repeated, "...Sorry."

"Try calling Viktor. I'm sure he's still awake. He'd know more than anyone right now about what's going on." The older skater yawned, "Or you can wait and come to the conference in the morning. You should have an email about it."

"...Conference..." The blonde muttered quietly, taking a seat in one of the rows near his next departure, "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Call Viktor." Otabek said again, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Later." Yurio pulled the phone away from his ear, and tempted the idea of doing as his friend had suggested, but as he hovered his thumb over the older Russian's contact info, he wavered. Grumbling, he went instead to Yuri's section, and angrily dialed out to the number. To his surprise, the line was busy, so he hung up and slouched where he sat, "...Can't have been bad if he's talking to someone." He huffed and reached for his ear-bud cables.

What the teen didn't know was that Mari was the one hogging the line, and it wasn't even Yuri on the other end.

"...No, the last thing I saw was Viktor getting into the ambulance after they got taken outside." Chris was explaining, sitting up in bed as well like Otabek had been, though he'd been watching television instead of trying to sleep, "I texted Viktor last around midnight. Yuri was still unconscious then."

"...Oh..." Mari held the phone with both of her hands, looking nervous, "...Did you see how badly he was hurt...?"

The skater shook his head, "I saw blood on the side of his face, but that was all. By the look of the videos that've gone online since, he bounced his head off the ice when he fell."

"There's videos!?" The elder sister cried anxiously, "Our parents will go nuts if they see them! Those triplets have probably already seen them...!"

"I already talked to the Nishigoris." Chris said, ruffling his hair a little, "They called about 45 minute after the accident. I told them to call Viktor."

"Should I call him too, you think...? Or would I just be annoying...?" Mari sat on a bench just outside the smoking lounge, clenching a fist over one knee tightly.

"You're his sister-in-law...I'm sure he'd be happy to hear fr-" The skater paused, pulling the phone back as he heard yet another incoming call trying to get his attention. Instead of seeing 'Yuri Plisetsky' though, he saw 'Viktor' and a custom wallpaper featuring the Russian during part of his 'History Maker' performance from Bordeaux. He pulled the phone back briefly, "Hang on, that's Viktor calling right now. I told him to call me on this phone when he had news. Hold the line."

"O-okay."

The Swiss skater clicked over, "Is he awake?"

"Hey, yeah, finally." The silver legend said, the relief palpable in his voice, "Uncle Mimi and the rest just got here, too. Mimi and I are going someplace less noisy so the doc can tell us again that Yuri shouldn't leave the hospital."

"He was out for 5 hours. He shouldn't leave the hospital."

"Yuri insists it's because he was already tired when he got knocked out. He seems completely with it right now...but..."

"Can't you tell him you're going to decide on his behalf?"

"He's not delusional." Viktor said stiffly, "If he sounded at-all crazy, the docs wouldn't let him out. But he answered all their questions and passed all the tests, and then said he wants out. They were just going to keep him until morning for observation anyway, and I think we'd both be happier if we could just go sleep in the hotel room rather than spend the rest of the night here. If he's not way better after that, I'll just...bring him back or something."

Something caught the Russian's attention, and Chris heard muffled voices for a few seconds before it cleared up.

"They just handed me the discharge papers. I need to pay attention now so I know what to look out for. I just thought I'd let you know. I'll swing by to get our stuff when we get back, if it's okay."

"For sure. I want to put my eyes on that boy before I sleep."

Viktor managed a somber laugh, "He's only 2 years younger than you are."

"You haven't completely broken him of his naïve innocence." Chris shot back with his own soft chuckle, "But I suppose I can give you a B for effort."

"Maybe I don't want to completely change that." The Russian gave a tired smile, but then lifted his head, "Anyway, I have to go. Thanks for keeping an eye on our things. We'll see you soon."

"Sure. Oh...Yuri's sister is on the other line. Do you want me to tell her what you told me? Or do you want to?"

"I'm going to be wrapped up here for a little bit. Would you mind? I can call her with Yuri after he's had some sleep. Have her text me if she wants to talk sooner."

"I'll let her know. Stay safe, Viktor."

.

Phichit had gathered up all his things, and was making last-second checks to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. He felt his phone buzz in his jacket's inside pocket, and when he pulled it out, it was 8:32am, and Celestino was texting him to say he was in the hotel lobby.

[I'll meet you in the conference room] He typed back.

Yuri and Viktor were still asleep, so far as the Thai skater could tell. The room was still fairly dim; he'd gotten ready without turning the lights on or pulling the curtains open. Still though, it was light enough that he could get his first good look at the gash on his friend's forehead. It was hard to tell what anything looked like when the bandages had still been on, but even after they'd been removed, Yuri's hair, and the dark, had made anything else impossible to see. Phichit gave the sleeping skater a glance, noting that there was a light smear of blood crusting around the wound, and a few strands of black hair were stuck to it. No doubt, as Yuri moved in the night, he'd unintentionally disturbed a few of the gaps between stitches.

Drawing in a breath, Phichit moved off again, stepping quietly over to the door with his backpack slung over a shoulder. Before pulling down on the chrome handle though, he put his hands together and set them close to his forehead, saying a quiet prayer that he would be allowed to skate, and then tread lightly to leave the room.

Another 10 minutes passed before either of the remaining figures stirred. Viktor lifted an arm blindly, reaching back behind himself for where he'd left his phone charging on the night-stand on his side of the bed. When he found it and pulled it free, a half-opened eye glanced past those silver bangs to see 8:42am flash across the screen

Grumbling, he Unlocked the device and went to turn the Alarm off, having been set to go off at 9am anyway. Letting it fall down to the pillow, Viktor rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes, looking up hazily at the ceiling before turning back to his husband and curling up close again.

It had been a kindness that Yuri had undone his demands to be left untouched when he'd woken up in the middle of the night, giving the Russian leave to get his usual skin-to-skin slumber that he'd previously, and greviously been denied. It was already depressing enough that it had been next to impossible to enjoy their normal nightly sexy-time, given Phichit's presence...but the added insult of Yuri being too hurt and exhausted to do anything other than sleep...that was too much to bear. Still, Viktor wasn't about to push the issue. He wouldn't even let himself get his hopes up after Phichit had left the room, simply holding to his partner quietly, arms around him.

Yuri stirred a minute or two later, feeling the motion behind him. He managed to wiggle enough that he'd gotten onto his back where the silver legend held him, and turned those over-tired eyes around to meet the blue irises that had been watching him.

They looked at one another in complete silence, neither really knowing what to say, or whether to try. The Russian leaned in a little, closing his eyes and gently touching nose-tips against one another, hoping that might break the ice where words had failed. It seemed to work, but not necessarily in the way Viktor had meant for it to. When he pulled back again, he could feel his husband trying to wedge an arm under the side of his chest. As he pushed up the small distance to allow it, he felt the hand go under and around his back, elbow hooking upward just under his arm, palm going down against his shoulder-blades...pushing him forward.

Those blue eyes blinked in slight hesitation, but Viktor let the nudge move him, finding himself nearly on top of his partner by the time the pressure faded and the hand slid away, moving a bit further down his back. He felt the second hand coming up against his waist, and the side of one knee brush up against his own.

"...Yuri...?"

The hand that had slid down his back came up again, pressing down just behind his shoulder until he was low enough that he felt lips on his own. The relief of it washed over him, and he could feel himself sink down a bit further as his entire frame began to relax. One kiss became two...then four...then eight...but by ten, Viktor was reversing their positions, rolling onto his back to pull his husband over top of himself instead. The silence went on, but so did the kissing; hands kept roaming as well, feeling at the coolness of skin exposed to the air, but then moving down to where it was still warm, under the covers or cruelly contained within clothing.

As was the case every morning, certain parts of the Russian's lithe frame that had been unconsciously practicing throughout the night, were well and ready to go when he awoke, diminishing only slightly as he dozed. It took only the barest of signals to get fully ready again. As the younger figure moved to lay on top of him, hands became more eager, sliding under the edge of an elastic band to get both hands full of that supple, yet hard athletic skin, and pulled upward to force the younger man's entire body to slide up against that desperate flesh. Viktor paused almost immediately though, feeling the particular absence of the matching member.

Yuri felt the pause, but wasted no time on excuses or explanations, twisting slightly to reach for the edge of the nightstand and fishing for the small blue bottle hidden in the drawer there. He dropped it against the sheets for a moment to reach back and push clothing away, moving things aside just enough for access to be gained, and then pulled for the bottle again. Clicking it open, he drizzled some into his right palm, and immediately went to task slathering it over the necessary places. Just as he took hold of his partner though and moved a few inches further up on the man's lap to put things into position, he felt the Russian's arms slide over his legs to take himself back.

Silver hair pressed lightly to the younger figure's bare chest, but Viktor just kissed there lightly as well and looked up, "...I appreciate the gesture, but...you haven't even given me a chance to get you excited yet...why such a hurry...?"

"...I need you..."

"You have me. You'll always have me. But what's the rush...?" He asked differently, truly perplexed, "There's still more than an hour before we need to be at that meeting..."

Yuri hesitated a moment, but then pulled his hands up again, abandoning their prior task to slip them up the length of his partner's chest and over those bare shoulders instead, tilting his face to lean in for another kiss but not quite going all the way, "I need this. You need this."

"...I can't argue with that, but still...I don't understand. Don't you want me to get you into it first...?"

"...I'm...not looking for that right now..." The younger figure admitted, taunted by the feeling of his husband's hands moving a little under him, but not doing anything to him, "...I just want you to make me feel normal again..."

"Normal...?" The Russian echoed, confused, but looking up to his partner's face and seeing the same expression looking right back at him, "...I see..."

It's just like after the SP in China. It's not about physical gratification...this is for his spirit, his peace of mind...

Those hands finally moved for the better again, releasing the length of flesh that had been denied to the younger athlete. Yuri could feel the tip of it sliding against him, moving up, then back down again, over and over, pausing once to test but then moving on again. Slightly frustrated and impatient, but knowing fully that he shouldn't feel that way, and normally wouldn't, he reached back with his still-slick right hand and maneuvered the member himself, putting it where it needed to be and then sitting against it.

Viktor drew in a quiet hiss, pressing his forehead to his partner's chest again, hands clinging to the man's waist. The younger figure still had a few fingers around him, holding him in place as he made his slow descent, rising up once or twice and then lowering again. When it was done, and they were flush against each other, Yuri leaned forward, pushing his partner down and balling up his fists against the man's chest. The rest of him came down soon after, until he could brush the tip of his nose against that pale skin. He only moved again after that to reach for the edge of the thick comforter that had slipped off his back, pulling it back over him until just his head could be seen poking out from under it.

Brown eyes looked down into blue for a moment, watching wordlessly as he felt a pair of hands reach for his own, pulling them up over that silver hair to settle them in the pillows. When the hands withdrew again, Yuri could feel them sliding down his sides, brushing over his ribs and settling on the curve of his waist. Thighs parted a little under him, sensing the rhythmic movement about to begin, and he closed his eyes, trying to relax, pressing his forehead down against his partner's. He felt the light kiss before he felt the slow, slick withdraw, pulling out only enough so that a push back in was worthwhile. Yuri gave out a quiet sigh and a quick inhale, legs clenching a bit where they parted over his husband's frame, but relaxed again at the next partial slide out.

It was slow, steady, almost calculated. It didn't even feel all that particularly good...in that state, it was no more sensual than feeling a hand on one's shoulder, or a pat on the back...but Yuri didn't care. That wasn't what he was looking for anyway. Even after he pushed a bit more upright, hands flat against his partner's chest as the rhythm picked up a little speed...it wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't until after the Russian had rolled them over again that he started to enjoy it in his own way, knees hooked around the man's arms, feeling that larger body over top of him. It was even better when his legs had been let go, and the silver genius wedged his arms under his back instead, pulling them each closer to one another as he kept up the gentle rolling of his hips. Yuri clasped his arms around his partner's figure, holding tight and pressing a cheek against the side of the man's neck. When the arms around him hugged a little tighter, the young skater could feel his headache and slight dizziness starting to fade. The rest of the romp, delicate and gently-paced as it was, felt like it was helping heal him. It surprised him a little to notice that the Russian had been particularly careful not to rock him too hard, never once jerking his head around like would normally happen if they'd been making love like normal. Though Yuri had never become aroused by the event, feeling his partner taking pleasure in him was just as gratifying.

I guess this is what Viktor feels like when he jokes about re-falling in love with me at random times... He thought, I think I just fell in love with him all over again, too.