CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED EIGHTY SIX

With breakfast had, and fancy coffees procured, it was finally time to get to the Skate Club. Pulling into the familiar parking lot still sent butterflies fluttering in Yuri's stomach, but it wasn't the terrifying, harrowing experience it had been in days prior, so he didn't need to be carried inside a second time. He just sipped at his white-chocolate mocha with its cinnamon and nutmeg stirred in, looking at the sign above the blue-framed doors, and reached for the backpack handed to him by his spouse. A few seconds later, with the bag safely hanging from his shoulders, his hand went out again, this time reaching for his partner's. Cold fingers were woven together, and Viktor quickly reached for his double-spice Chai tea latté from where he'd set it on the roof of the small rental-car, a pack hanging from his own shoulder as well.

"Ready?"

"Mh."

The facility was relatively quiet, which was a strange thing, but the doors weren't locked and it smelled like someone had recently had lunch, so someone was around. It turned out to be Coach Gerard, and he gave himself away with the sound of his iPhone's camera sound-effect.

"I was wondering when you'd get here." He mused, looking at the picture he'd snapped of the pair walking through the cafeteria area in front of the rink, "I thought you'd come right after Official Practice."

"We never went." Yuri explained, waving as they turned to face him, "I set my alarm for way after it started. Sleep was slightly more important by then."

"I bet." The tall man stepped closer, nodding his head to the Russian legend as he passed in front of them, "You look to be in pretty good shape, all thing considered. Your SP yesterday was really good, too! I'll be using footage of the Lutz landing for years." He laughed and held his hands up, as though presenting it to some future class, "Behold...how not to land."

"Give me a little credit..." Yuri sighed, smiling in spite of his meager attempt at a defense, "Yesterday was really crazy. I had a migraine going into my turn and then did the quad instead of the triple like I'd meant to. I thought Viktor was going to come out onto the ice and eat me alive."

"Ah, so that's why you went down like you did. Pleading for your life, huh?" Gerard mused, turning towards the Russian skater, "He means well but he doesn't always listen."

"If only that were the worst thing to happen this weekend." Viktor nudged his partner with an elbow, "He's not out of the race yet though...we both appreciate you letting us use the rink before tonight's Free Skate." He bowed his head slightly.

The older man nodded, "Since most of the skaters are at the event, or know people who are competing, they're taking the day off. I was told by Lisa that the only condition for letting either of you on the ice here would be to get pictures of Yuri's injuries. It's impossible to tell what happened by the grainy footage we saw, so they were all pretty worried, having to hear rumors afterwards. Do you mind?" Gerard nudged his phone into sight again, "Or is your chin the only thing to really write home about?"

Yuri shook his head, "No...I wish that was the only thing." He set his paper cup down on a nearby table and used that hand to pull up his bangs, "This is where the real damage was..."

"Yikes..."

The silver legend watched quietly as his husband was practically catalogued, even reluctantly letting go of his hand when the skater sat down to try and let the older coach get a better shot from above.

"Viktor did his best to hide the bruising for my show yesterday with some stage make-up. From a distance, it probably wouldn't look like much." Yuri went on, hearing a few camera-click sound effects from above, "I didn't want the judges to feel sorry for me, so I tried my best to hide the fact that I was hurt at all."

"Well, even though you're in 6th place, you're still basically neck-and-neck with the rest of the pack, so I'd say you did a pretty good job." Gerard commented, "At least there was a good reason why you only scored in the 90s at the Final this time. Last year..."

Yuri grit his teeth, "Don't get me started..."

"So how are you feeling at this point?" Gerard asked, trying to get his camera to focus on the stapled cut hidden in the forest of thick black hair, "Better every day, I hope?"

"For sure." Yuri answered, trying to hold still as he held his hair apart, "Most of yesterday morning, and the whole night before that, is a blank for me at this point. I sometimes get a feeling of déjà vu about stuff, but I can't recall anything specific about what happened. Phichit-kun and I ran into Celeste."

"Yeah, we saw her on the footage. She's missing a leg since last we saw her though. What's up with that?" Gerard wondered, patting the skater's shoulder as he stepped back to let the younger man know he could stand again, and did so.

Yuri opened his mouth like he was going to explain it...but then stopped and closed it again, realizing he was stumped, "...I feel like she told me but I can't remember what she said. It wasn't a surprise to me when she tracked me down after the SP."

"You must've asked about it when she popped up at practice on Thursday night, right before I interrupted things." Viktor suggested, "Since it wasn't mentioned when I was around, and you would've remembered if she explained it again after the SP."

"Yeah, you're right."

"How's the other guy?" Gerard wondered, sticking his phone into his back pants pocket and crossing his arms, "Otabek Altin."

"...Otabek?" Yuri was surprised, "He didn't get hurt."

"He saw the whole thing though. Must've left him pretty rattled."

"Ehhh..." The skater shrugged dubiously, "He's probably the strongest emotionally out of the bunch of us. He's fine."

"And Leroy?"

Yuri glanced up at his husband.

Viktor just grumbled quietly, "...Avocado..."

"Huh?"

"JJ went home." The younger skater said simply, "That's all."

"Ah. I see." The coach nodded, but then shrugged, "Well, I guess you two will want to hit the ice before long." He twisted on a heel and presented the rink through the glass wall, "The place is basically yours."

"This is perfect." Yuri nodded, feeling the relief of knowing they wouldn't have to share the rink at any point, but then turning to the older man, "Actually...before you run off, would you mind taking the one stitch out of my chin? Every time I brush it against something, I feel like I'm growing a screwy beard."

The skate-coach laughed, but then nodded, "Sure...hang out here a second. I'll get the kit."

"Mh."

Footsteps echoed on the polished concrete floor as the man left the big room, leaving the pair to stand in the quiet until he returned. Viktor took the time to pull his backpack off and set it on top of the table Yuri had sat down at, then moved to help pull the bag off his partner's shoulders as well.

"I hope he's not here just because of us." The Russian wondered quietly, "I'd feel bad if that were the case."

"He's the owner of this Club as well as a coach. I'm sure he's got other things to catch up on since everyone else is gone." Yuri offered, taking a sip from his drink, only to spot his husband coming around to sit in the seat ahead of himself at the small round table. He still had his lips on the mouthpiece of the cup as he watched curiously, but he lowered it down when he saw one hand coming towards the mark on his chin.

Fingers gently touched around the mark, then went up to push dark strands of hair away, slate eyes inspecting the two cuts hidden there, "These look way better than when we got you out of the hospital."

"I'll have to take your word for it. I've tried not to look."

"It was all crusted over...big chunks of clots stuck in your hair. When the nurse came in and started jabbing needles into your head to numb it and clean it all up, I had to look away." Viktor explained, "I guess she thought I was going to go down, too, because she kept asking if I was okay. She joked that sometimes the families of injured people end up needing treatment too, just because they pass out and hurt themselves watching treatment."

"I wouldn't have expected you to watch..."

"I tried to..." The Russian combed his fingers through that raven hair a few times, before settling to pull the coffee cup away and take his husband's hands into his own instead, "Even though you were out cold, I thought I could take some of your pain away if I looked long enough. Turns out, that's not how it works."

"I guess it's the thought that counts, right?" Yuri huffed a sad laugh, leaning forward to steal a quick peck from his partner's lips, "So, thank you for that."

Viktor looked on for a moment, still appearing quite serious...perhaps seeing the memory of those moments passing through his mind's eye again. But he shook the images away, and his eyes warmed a little, leaning forward to snake his arms around his spouse's thin frame. He pressed his face through the open front of the winter coat and up against Yuri's chest, taking a deep breath from there once he settled.

Arms went up to curve around the Russian's shoulders soon after, and the younger of the pair held quietly until he could hear the sound of sneakers coming back up the hall again. When he glanced behind himself, he spotted Gerard returning, rifling through the contents of a First-Aid box. Yuri pat his husband's back lightly with one hand, and the two of them sat upright again, while Yuri turned 180 on his seat to face the older coach. Viktor leaned in close against his back, watching quietly from behind one shoulder as he held himself up with the base of each palm hooked to the edge of the circular seat, just aside his partner's legs.

"Aright, let's see..." Gerard started, grabbing up a square paper sachet, and tore it open to pull out the alcohol pad within, using it to cleanse the area first, then grabbing for a rudimentary suture-removal kit and breaking the seal on the sterile pouch, "Looks like a Halsted suture." He commented, "Whoever stitched you up must've thought you were cute."

"...Why?" Yuri gaped, his cheeks flushing a bit as the elder coach leaned in close to get a better look.

"It's the kind of stitch you do when you want to reduce scarring." Gerard explained, grabbing one tail of the stitch with a pair of fine-tipped tweezers, and pulling on it to find the loop that went under the knot, "Normally, the stitches I see coming out of emergency rooms are just meant to hold someone together, like a doll or a cadaver. They're not worried about whether you're still beautiful at the end...just that you're alive." He clipped one of the two threads and pulled the thin filament through, then inspecting his work, "But...it looks like my surgery was a success. You're still adorable. Hardly maimed at all."

"...Oh good." Yuri huffed a nervous laugh, "I was worried Viktor might leave me if I wasn't."

The Russian just guffawed against his back and leaned even more heavily against him, "You'll always be my cinnamon roll."

The older coach just shook his head and laughed, closing up the kit again and pushing back up to standing, "Welp, I'd still put a small bandage over that for when you go to bed. The cut was deep enough to need a stitch in the first place and it should've stayed in like the rest...but it's closed for the moment. No guarantees if you bump your face into things though."

"I'll make sure he doesn't." Viktor teased, "I won't allow a repeat of Regionals."

"...What happened at Regionals?"

Yuri felt a tightness under the bridge of his nose to recall it, "...I might've...run my face into the rink wall by mistake."

"Ah. Well done, Dunderfutz."

"...Dunderwho?" Viktor echoed in confusion.

"It's a thing he calls people who do stupid things." The young skater answered sheepishly, "Like a dunderhead but more endearing."

"What's a dunderhead...?" The Russian blinked.

"A stupid person." Yuri blinked back, answering almost in a monotone as he deadpanned.

"Oh...so like baka."

"...Hai."

"Suki da!" Viktor hugged his husband's back excitedly, practically repeating the same gyrating post-face-smash hug he'd given at that very Regionals event, "Let's go skate now!"

"Aright, I'll leave you kids to it." The American laughed as he stepped off.

"Thanks a bunch, Coach Gerard." Yuri called to him, raising an arm up to wave, "We'll try to get out of your hair in a few hours."

"What's the rush?" The man wondered, looking back over a shoulder as he started heading for the offices at the front of the building, "I'll be watching the event from here. I'm in no hurry. Take your time."

"Domo!"

"Spasibo."

The two watched him go, before turning back towards one another, each looking rather excited suddenly, and hurrying off to change and get their blades on. Within minutes, Yuri was tossing his blade-guards off and was blasting his way out across the frost, though Viktor was a bit slower to follow. Just as he put a hand on the rink-wall and reached down for the first rubber bar on his gold skates, he heard Yuri commanding him to stop what he was doing. The Russian blinked beady-white eyes in confusion, and was still as a statue, moving only those eyes towards his partner.

"I call first dibs on the rink." The younger man answered playfully, taking a very particular starting position where he stood in the middle of the rink. One leg was straight, the other bent, and Yuri dipped his right shoulder back.

"Wait...that stance..." Viktor gaped, suddenly letting go of the skate he'd been trying to manage.

"Just wait there, and never take your eyes off me." The younger man ordered, smiling from the ice, "I'm about to become a tasty pork-cutlet bowl that seduces hot, silver-haired Russian figure-skating legends."

That certain silver-haired Russian figure-skating legend was suddenly white-knuckling the rink-wall where he grabbed it, all but jumping over it as he watched, wide-eyed and surprised. The sound of a spicy Spanish guitar suddenly echoed from all around, and those blue eyes watched in abject fascination as Yuri licked his lips and raised his arms up, and then down, for the introductory move.

Those arms came up a second time, twisting over the skater's thin frame, and he dug in a toe-pick as he brought one hand up towards his lips...and blew a kiss.

Viktor looked a bit surprised, but caught it with two fingers on his lips.

The melody of 'On Love: Eros' kicked into high gear then, and Yuri flew across the ice. It was enough to make the Russian forget about everything else, the déjà vu of the previous year descended over him like a warm blanket. At least, until the outside spread-Eagle...and the triple Axel that followed. The blanket fell off a shoulder for a moment, but Yuri stuck the landing, and Viktor sunk back into his bliss.

For a show he hasn't done since April...he's doing a really good job of it.

The twists and turn, the spins, the playful dance of the step sequence...the perfect execution of the quad Salchow, triple Toel-loop combo. It was all a much needed escape from the true day and place.

Yuri descended to one knee, sliding across the frost towards one short end of the rink, rose up, twisted through a mohawk turn...and clicked his toe-pick into the ice.

This time...Viktor let himself trust his husband's wishes, and gave himself permission to watch the jump without the dread of 'what if, what if, what if?'

True to his relief...the quad Flip was executed flawlessly. The rest of Yuri's seduction-dance went on without a hitch, and he began the final spin to round out the end of the program. The Russian rested his elbows on the top of the rink wall, letting his wrists cross beneath his chest casually. He watched with love and admiration, his heart racing with the climactic finale of the music.

He's gotten so strong, despite everything that's happened...or maybe it's in spite of it.

Yuri stuck his final pose, cheeks pink and sweat beading on his skin. He panted quickly to catch his breath, and then threw up his arms dramatically in a rather lazy wave, descending to hold himself up with his hands over his knees, "Whew!" He hollered, "Maybe I should've warmed-up first..."

Viktor clapped anyway, "Yuri! That was perfect!"

The young skater looked up then, and smiled at his applause, bowing dramatically before pushing off a toe-pick to glide closer. He gently weaved his hands over the plastic rim of the rink-wall's upper edge, setting his fingers against his husband's sides, "I felt good enough to go for the quads... I think my head would probably hurt no matter how many times I spin, so I thought I should just go for it. Aside from that one time at Regionals, I've never landed on my head when I've fallen anyhow. I hope you don't mind..."

The silver legend shook his head back and forth, leaning down to rest his forearms on the rink wall again like before, and bringing his hands to just aside his partner's, brushing his thumbs against that cool bare skin, "Only you know how you feel. If your instincts tell you that you can safely do quads...then I'll put my faith in them, too. Just don't make me regret it."

"My instincts will be sleeping on the couch tonight if they let me down."

"Yes indeed." Viktor agreed with a smile, sliding in closer to nose his partner lightly, "But now you have to tell me how you got 'Eros' to play here. Have you been scheming?"

"Maybe a tiny bit." Yuri smiled, raising one hand to pinch his fingers together in a gesture to animate his statement, "I was texting Coach Gerard while you were driving, and emailed him mp3s of a few songs. He said he was willing to keep it on the down-low if I wanted him to play stuff without telling you."

"What else did you send?" The silver legend wondered, moving over towards the door cut-through, and finally taking his blade-guards off like he'd meant to earlier, "'Duetto' maybe?"

"...Ah, no actually. Now I think I should've..." The younger figure crossed his arms, listening to the melodic sound of the Russian Champion's blades touching to the ice and coming back around towards him.

"Well, if skating on your own is still giving you headaches, then some of the Pair stuff probably won't be much easier on you." Viktor suggested, "I don't know that I'd be comfortable lifting or throwing you right now. Even the spirals kind of make me nervous...you always go so low to the ice. If I somehow lost my grip on you, the first thing to hit would be the top of your head..."

"Yeah... Well, at least it would only be a short fall." Yuri shrugged, feeling a hand coming up against his waist as his partner slid around him in a tight circle. He put his own hand over it, and curled his fingers around it to hold it out between them, "You should do your own chapter of 'On Love' next. I know you only did it once, but...you remember how it goes, right?"

"'Philia?'" Viktor asked curiously, "...Sure, I think I remember. Is that what you have next on our afternoon playlist?"

"Mh." The younger skater nodded, pulling his hands up to set them against the Russian's lower back and gently ease him out towards the middle of the rink, "It's a good song to be uplifted by. I think it'd be good for you to skate it again."

Blue eyes lifted, looking back over his shoulder, somewhat in surprise more than anything, feeling himself gliding forward where Yuri had tenderly nudged him. He watched quietly where the man was hoisting himself up to sit on the rink wall where he'd previously been standing, and slowly slid to a stop, like he wasn't sure what else to do.

"Don't you?" Yuri finished.

...Did I just become the beta in this relationship...?

Viktor wondered to himself suddenly, almost stunned by the idea. He turned back to face forward, and moved his legs just enough to push onward again, but then just shook his head and huffed a silent laugh to himself.

The way he's taken everything on suddenly...no, taken the lead on everything... I've seen moments of this shining through from him since we first met... These brief spasms of confidence, where he bears his true heart, even if he recoils afterward like he was embarrassed. Deciding to use katsudon as the inspiration for his Eros, poking at the top of my head before his Free Skate in Beijing last year, and the way he suddenly threaded our fingers and put his forehead to mine at Rostelecom after that...

He idly meandered around the large faded logo in the middle of the rink, taking his time getting into position.

Getting between my father and I when we first met in St. Petersburg. Then calling Yurio out at Worlds for being insufferable... It was a while before I saw it again after that though... When he told Yurio to apologize to me at Trophée de France? Or the way he handled Sophia? He's gotten so brave, even if his anxiety still gets the better of him sometimes.

The silver legend brought his arms up around himself, moving even slower then as he looked down at the scratches he'd left in the ice, tracing around that circle a second time.

Now that I think about it...he's kind of been like this since he confronted my father those two times at NHK.

He looked up again, observing his spouse there on the rink wall, like some researcher evaluating a specimen.

When did those momentary bursts of fortitude evolve into the permanent sort of commanding fearlessness that it is now...?

Yuri looked back at him in confusion, "...What are you waiting for? ...Do you need a warm-up period? Gerard won't start the music unless you stay still for a few seconds, but I can wave for him to wait if you want."

Viktor finally stopped, twisting around and setting a toe-pick down behind himself, and shook his head, "No, this is fine." He lowered his hands down to park on his hips, and tapped each toe-pick down a few times restlessly.

Why do I feel like I'm suddenly under his wings?

"Ganbatte ne, Viktor!"

The Russian quietly smiled to himself, and finally took his position, descending to one knee and placing his hands together on the up-turned side.

...I guess I don't mind... Even if this doesn't last forever, it feels kind of nice to be able to fall back a little, and know that Yuri can handle things for a while...

.

.

...Yuri...

.

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...My Yuri...