CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED NINETY

Yurio watched the door quietly and listened for the click before turning away, looking first at Otabek, and then to the rest of the Players Lounge. He clicked his phone on for a moment and checked the time, "The intermission will only last another 20 minutes or so..."

"We should go stretch or something while we still have time."

"Da."

The duo turned on their heels, looking around briefly before moving back towards where they'd left their gear earlier on, and each rifled around for their work-out mats. By the time they'd found an open section of the outer hallway to roll the mats out, Yurio was partly laughing to himself under his breath.

Otabek half-raised a brow at the teen, "What's so funny?"

"I just had a thought." He answered, pulling out his phone again. After a few thumb clicks to unlock the device, both hands were twiddling at the screen, sending a text message, then putting the device away.

"...What was that all about?"

The blonde had a mischievous look on his face, "You'll see."

In the stands, the cellphone in the pocket of a certain silver-haired teen suddenly vibrated, and upon withdrawal, a few curious words appeared on its dark screen.

[Come into the Players Club. I have a project for you.]

Nikki rubbed her chin, intrigued, but then suddenly looked rather impish, and she quietly rose up from her scarlet-red seat. She shuffled past the knees of a few people, heading towards the stairwell nearby, only to find a tug on her coat. Glancing down, she spotted a finger hooked into her pocket, and she turned those bright jade eyes up to her father's skeptical face.

"Where are you off to, looking so devious?"

"Big brother needs me." She answered sweetly.

"Big broth-..." Mikhail looked incredulous, "Yuri? He's barely a year older than you are..."

"He's still older!" Nikki pointed out, twisting to try unhooking that fatherly claw from her coat.

The exasperated elder just reached up with his free hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, "I'm starting to think you like him better than your actual older brother."

"Yuri's nicer to me than Sergio." The teen explained, twisting around yet again, but finding Mikhail's grip on her pocket strong enough to prevent her from getting loose, "Why aren't you letting me go?"

"I'll go with her, pipaw." Viktoria offered unexpectedly, pushing up from her seat next to Mari, and rolling the sucker in her mouth from one side to the other, "I'm sure we'll be back before the warm-up."

The dubious elder glanced aside to Minako and Mari, both of whom seemed to find nothing wrong with the situation and shrugged at him. Feeling somewhat outnumbered and unsupported, Mikhail closed his eyes and huffed a sigh, retreating back into his seat and pulling his hooked finger back, "Alright... I know when I'm at a loss." He leaned away some as the older daughter squeezed past, and looked up at her, "You're in charge, Vikki."

"Mhm."

The two girls practically giggled as they escaped, making their way swiftly down the stairs towards the front of their section, and making a hard right towards the doorway into the sub-stadium Players Club.

Mikhail sighed grudgingly to watch them trying to figure out how to get around the barriers, and further as Nikkita pulled her phone out again to thumb her plea at the Russian Punk. The grumpy older man practically sank a few inches into his black woolen jacket, his flatcap tilting off center as the collar pushed up into his hair.

"How come you're worried about Nikki spending time with Yura...?" Minako wondered quietly, "Isn't that what you wanted? For the girls and him to get along?"

"Maybe." He answered stiffly, keeping his eyes absently on the ice.

"They seem to be on pretty good terms to me." The ballerina offered, "Better than them fighting, isn't it?"

"...Maybe."

"I really doubt anything else is going on." She said, finding the man's reservations somewhat amusing, "The fact that she got called on by Yura is probably a great thing...at least, in my opinion it is."

Mikhail just grumbled his answer that time.

Minako sighed, He's deflecting. I feel bad that my relief is making him so uncomfortable...

"Oh look, Yurio and Otabek came out to meet them." Mari pointed, the two aforementioned skaters' heads barely visible through the curved barrier.

A few seconds later, Viktoria had climbed over the railing with a hand on the meager bent-metal barricade, and hopped the 6ft down to the floor below. Nikkita was a bit more reserved, fearing the distance, opting instead to climb over, close her eyes, and fall forward into the only pair of strong arms that could hope to catch her without toppling him over in the process. Otabek easily set her down, and a few swift seconds later, the group was gone from sight.

"Great...he's already teaching my kids about breaking and entering..." Mikhail whispered bitterly.

"Seems to me like he's just letting them in through the back door to a place he has permission to be in." Minako said confidently, taking the damaged man's arm and patting it to reassure him, "Better for us to see them get safely into the Club from here, than for them to leave the arena and wander the halls to get to the regular entrance. We know they'll be fine in there."

More grumbling.

The increasingly-frustrated woman reached up to swipe the Russian's hat, setting it onto her own head instead, "It wouldn't be such a good idea to get upset at Yura just because you're upset at me." She said quietly, leaning closer so only her intended target would able to hear, her words otherwise lost in the noise of the crowd, "Considering how you invited him into your family, and even told Nikki to pester him into being more open...what's happening here is actually the best possible thing that could happen. He likes the two of them and wants them to be a part of things. In a way, he's integrating more than even I thought he would." She said simply, looking out to the ice as well, though turning her eyes slightly to watch the man's reaction, even if he kept looking on with a steely, resistant look on his face, "In my eyes, they're really starting to act like a gang of siblings...being a clique unto themselves and getting into mischief together. And you've gotten to know Yura pretty well over the last nine months, too...you know that he's affection-starved, lonely, and desperately seeking approval from what few peers he lets get close to him. Nikki's made it farther with him in the last two days than any of the rest of us have gotten since we first met him...she almost entirely bypassed the resentful-angry-testy phase! Even you thought she would, telling Yura that she'd be a fast friend if he wanted her to be. I think Yuuko back in Hasetsu is the only other person that he likes all that much...so maybe that's just how he is with girls. The rest of us are all old farts by comparison, or men...or both. ...Or they're rabid fangirls that he can't really get to know individually." She nudged the elder Russian with an elbow, "So give him a break. It'll confuse the crap out of him if you act angrily when he's doing and becoming exactly what you wanted."

Mikhail just looked on quietly for a few moments...but then drew in a sharp breath and rocked forward in his seat to stand up, "I need to take a walk. I'll be back."

Minako made no intimation to resist his pulling away, and silently watched him go, making his way down the stairs but going left towards the main exit, instead of right to follow after his girls. She groaned dramatically and slouched in her seat, feeling the flatcap slide forward as it brushed the top of the red plastic panel behind her head.

Uncomfortable with the whole thing, Mari gawked at the woman, "You guys are making me the most obvious third-wheel ever, I swear."

The ballerina glanced up at her, only one eye visible under the visor of the hat. She sighed again and pushed to sitting up normally, "Gomen."

"Why are you guys acting all weird now?"

Minako reluctantly pulled her left hand from her pocket and showed her bare finger, "He's having an existential crisis because I called off the engagement."

"Naaaniiii!?" Mari was stunned, "But I thought..."

"I told him that I would consider revisiting the idea later on, but that right now I wasn't sure it was such a good idea to take such a big step." The ballerina explained, looking a bit more serious then, "So many other things are already happening...the death of his ex-wife, the mother of his kids...bringing his kids permanently back into his life...moving everyone to Hasetsu...bringing Yura into the middle of it all...and then having Viktor yell at him last night... For a guy who likes to be the Oyabun, he's finding himself being resisted on multiple sides suddenly."

"...You think he's gonna be okay...?"

Minako nodded, "...I can only hope that this will get better with time." She turned slightly to lower her head, looking at her knees, "I'm thinking about letting him and the kids go on to Russia on their own for Nationals. Give Mikhail some time to process everything without me so it isn't weird."

"Wouldn't that just make it worse? I mean...he's planning on moving to Hasetsu because of you...but if you don't even go to Russia with him, then he may not think he's even allowed to come back to Japan."

"...I know...that's why I'm only thinking about it. I still want him to come, and I'm excited about everything we have planned...but he's keeping me at arm's length right now. If Mikhail decides not to move after all because he's too embarrassed...Yura will be crushed...unless I can think of something else to do."

"Why not come home for the time between competitions and then go to Moscow to meet them?" Mari suggested, "That way you both get time on your own, and you're still there with him when they all get to Hasetsu after?"

The older woman put a finger on her chin in thought, "...That may actually not be such a bad idea. Although..."

"Although?"

"The whole reason I'm at these competitions is to support your brother. Up until this past week, when I agreed to be Yura's coach...I was still of the mindset that I would go with Yuri to Japanese Nationals. ...And the thing of it is, I still want to go to Japanese Nationals..." She slouched where she sat, "...Taihen desu...! I don't want to feel like I have to pick between Yuri and Mikhail! You and I booked our flights in and out of here months ago, and I've already bailed on half of it...I don't know what to do!"

"Has he already booked all of your flights to Russia?"

"...I don't doubt it. He probably arranged for all that before we left Banff...maybe even sooner than that."

Mari nodded, leaning forward slightly to idly check her bag of flags, counting them again to make sure all 5 were there, "Might be something you have to sit down with him about, maybe even drag Yuri into it to see what he thinks. You've been following him to competitions since he started going to them."

"Exactly, which is why I don't want to suddenly stop. It's one thing to stay home because I can't afford to go to every event, but to just suddenly decide to go to a different event..."

"I think you're reading too much into it. I doubt my baby brother would be that bothered if you decided to go to Russian Nationals instead of his. Viktor's going to be competing in Moscow, too, so it's not like Yurio would be the only person you're there...for...and..." Mari paused mid-thought, her eyes squinting as a thought dawned on her, "...Wait..."

"Yeah. Viktor's going to be in Russia, Yura's going to be in Russia...Mikhail, Nikki, and Viktoria are going to be in Russia. Who's going to be in Japan for Yuri, if not me?" Minako deadpanned the woman next to her, "Your parents aren't going to let you take another weekend off so soon, even for your brother."

"Well then just frame it like that to Mikhail." The younger woman pointed out, "You need to come home so you can go support Yuri. If Mikhail didn't talk to you about the plane tickets to Russia, then Viktor was right about how Mikhail doesn't involve other people enough in the decisions he makes. You would've been able to mention it right there and then that you had other plans already."

"...I guess so..." Minako sighed again, looking at her watch briefly for the time, "Why are men so needy and complicated?"

.

"No." The stoic Kazakh crossed his arms as soon as he heard the words, "Absolutely not."

"Do it, Otabek." Yurio tried again.

"You have plenty of hair." Nikki explained, "Plus, it'd only be two..."

"I don't need my hair braided."

"But Vikings were known to braid their hair." The young Russian pointed out, "It'd be more authentic this way."

They stood in the same hall where the two skaters had set out their stretching mats, and the eldest of them was already down on his, trying to get ready for the on-ice warm-up. Yurio and the Rozovsky sisters were practically surrounding him.

"I think you'd look good with a couple well-placed braids..." The youngest of the silver teens pointed out, thumbing-away on her phone as she spoke, "Just one on each side, then pulled together in the back for a short ponytail. Like this..." She flipped the device around and showed the skater a reference image of what she was referring to, but Otabek didn't seem convinced.

"We should dye Yuri's hair for tomorrow." Viktoria suddenly pointed out, "It'd go well with the outfit he picked."

"Ohhh! Yeah!" Nikki agreed excitedly, "Just the tips, like yours! Make it alternating colors to the hat so it all matches!" She went for those blonde locks, and started petting a few of the longer strands that were braided towards the back, "Purple and black, maybe with some neon green highlights."

"You guys are way too into this." Otabek huffed, curling one knee to pull an ankle up against the opposite thigh, and reached far to grab the at the foot straight out ahead of himself, "And you're an enabler, Yuri."

The blonde pulled free of the attention and crouched down, gawking at the older man, "Are ya too manly for braids?"

The Kazakh just stopped in the middle of what he was doing and stared, his expression barely changing from neutral, "It's not a question of manliness."

"Then let her do some for you."

"Are you worried about losing your man-card if I refuse to match you out there somehow?" Otabek shot back, making the teen fall off balance and land on his arse.

"WHAT? NO."

"Me thinks the lad dost protest too much." Viktoria quipped.

"I had braids last year." Yurio argued, getting back up to crouch on the haunch of one leg, the other held with the knee up, both hands firmly in his jacket pockets, "And I was all pink and fluffy, too. I'm perfectly at peace with myself."

"...Pink and fluffy?" Viktoria echoed skeptically.

"The big photo papa has in his office in Edmonton."

"Oh right."

Yurio blinked at them, but shook his head and turned back to Otabek, "I just thought-"

"Fine...fine...go ahead." The Kazakh suddenly said, surrendering and pulling his straight leg to cross them both together, "Just don't make me look ridiculous."

"Squee!" Nikkita's eyes got huge from the excitement, and she quickly pulled a comb from her coat, handing the big and bulky garment to her sister before crouching down behind the dark-haired skater. She flexed her arms dramatically and then motioned her comb-hand towards her 'brother,' "Maestro, if you'll be so kind."

Yurio rifled through his music playlist briefly, but then clicked down on a certain song to set the mood. The gentle hum of a Norwegian vocalist rose up from the speaker, followed by the drumbeat, and the escalating thrum of Otabek's Free Skate filled the hall with war-chants.

.

Yuri zipped up the front of his black and blue team jacket, then reached up one hand to pull his glasses free. He could hear the sound of screeching just beyond the door, followed by seeing the panel pull open again, with Viktor backing in, dragging a heavy chair along with him. It was a cumbersome thing to pull into the bathroom stall, but the Russian would hear no argument...though Yuri did protest.

"I was just going to sit on the edge of the toilet seat..."

"No husband of mine is sitting on the edge of a toilet seat while I do his powder." Viktor insisted, locking the door behind himself and twisting the big cushioned behemoth around, "Here. This is the only kind of throne I will allow you."

"People who watched you pull this thing in here are probably wondering if you're on drugs or something." Yuri huffed, shaking his head lightly as he took the offered seat, crossing one leg over the other and looking rather dramatic about it as he leaned back on his hands, "But if you insist..."

"I do. Vehemently."

"Did you see Chris or Phichit-kun out there? Maybe they've been here the whole time and we just missed them." Yuri wondered, relaxing again and watching as his partner started rifling through his toiletries bag for the make-up he'd used the day before, setting down a small pouch of skin-cleansing towelettes, a light moisturizer, some fancy lip balm, a small bottle of pale foundation, then a concealer, and some q-tips to clean up those natural, dark features at the end.

"Actually, yeah. Chris was being talked to by the RSF folks, and Phichit by the Americans. I think him and Celestino just showed up a few minutes ago." Viktor explained, putting the bag down and grabbing for the moist towelettes, using his free hand to hold up his husband's face with a few fingers under the chin, "The RSF people are being weird today."

"Oh?"

"They walked out in the middle of the interview with me." The Russian explained, being careful around the cuts as he finished, "No joke, either. One minute, they're asking about my Free Skate from NHK and asking if Yakov was, as they put it, 'rightfully' retaking his place as my coach...and the next, they're wandering off. Yakov was still talking!"

"...So I wasn't seeing things." Yuri commented quietly, closing his eyes as his spouse's fingers massaged in the light moisturizer, all the way down his neck to just within the collar of his costume, "I thought maybe they were just killing time before Mila came off the ice, but I could've sworn they started turning the cameras while they were still technically talking to you. At least, at the time..."

"Well, they did end up going to chat with Mila. I guess they thought to use it as an excuse. They've never done that to me before though." The silver legend finished with the lip balm, and then reached for a foam make-up blotter. He started dabbing the liquid foundation around, "That conference back in St. Petersburg was the one and only time they've ever been rude to me in any way, and that was just the one guy."

"Maybe it was nothing." Yuri suggested, "We had a good interview with Morooka."

"...Yeah..."

"Don't let it bother you. We've had a really great day so far and I don't want to spoil it with speculation."

Viktor stood a bit straighter then, the words being rather direct for his Yuri. He blinked in confusion, holding the little foam wedge and foundation bottle close to his chest like he wasn't sure what to do for a moment.

Yuri cracked one eye open, "Doshita?"

The Russian regained his bearings and shook his head, "Mnh... Nandemonai." He leaned forward again and went back to his task, and the younger skater closed his eye, "Maybe I'm just hypersensitive to everything still."

"Well...you were worn down to your last nerve. That's part of why I didn't want to bother you with Official Practice. I figured it would just be easier on your psyche to avoid everyone for a while."

"...I did appreciate all the extra sleep. I was in a coma, I swear..." Viktor agreed, satisfied with the blending and reaching for the powder concealer to finish it all off, "I'll probably do the same thing again tonight."

"We won't even miss anything tomorrow morning since it's just the tech panels and the last of the Ice Dance stuff. Exhibition practice won't be until the afternoon."

The silver Russian dusted the powder gently with a fluffy brush, "You did say you wanted to go back to the Skate Club before the Gala, too."

"Yeah, but that won't take long. Maybe two hours, tops, counting travel. Just long enough to get there, brag about our medals, tell everyone I'm fine, and then say goodbye."

"...We should probably drag Yurio with us if we're really planning on doing the Team Skate again." Viktor pointed out, tapping his husband's nose with the brush-head to signal that he was done, and moving to collect his thing back into the travel bag, "It's been a few weeks since any of us performed it."

"...I was actually going to ask..." Yuri started, turning slightly to look at his pale face in the mirror, then sliding his glasses back into place over it all, "You just...suddenly let everything go. What happened?"

The silver legend paused for a second, but then cinched the draw-strings on the bag and tossed the whole thing gently into the rolling suitcase, "I didn't want him around you before your Short Program yesterday, because you'd already had enough complications with it this season. Being so disappointed at your score in Calgary," He started.

"Only because I was being arrogant."

"...And then having that fit right as you took the ice in China." Viktor closed the suitcase and stood up with it, pulling the telescoping handle out and moving the container towards the door, "I wanted you to have every chance to skate the way you wanted to, given everything else. I told Yurio that he should cheer for you if he wanted back into your...rather, my good graces. He did, so I let him give his congratulations to you after, because he could do no harm then. He seems to be okay at this point. ...I need to have a chat with him about the choreography thing."

"Then it sounds like a good plan. We'll all get on the podium tonight, and then go do the Gala practice together at my old Skate Club." Yuri nodded, rising to stand, and pushed the door open to start shoving the big chair out again, "Even if we don't all medal, I think it would be good to skate that show together."

"I hope you didn't just try to give yourself permission to slack off, Yuri." The Russian skater-coach huffed, using his foot to help push the chair through, "We didn't spend half the day practicing just so you could take 6th on purpose."

"No way." The younger athlete guided the big seat past the door panel and out towards where it looked like it had come from, then stood upright again and clapped his hands together to dust them off. He set those hands on his hips and glanced at his husband, giving a wink, "There are four gold medals between us...and I intend to take the fifth."

Viktor gaped at the man, but then smirked, sliding in and pulling Yuri closer with a hand behind his soulmate's lower back, "You do, huh?"

"That's right." He grinned back deviously, a little bit of Eros shining through with those half-lidded eyes, "And no one's going to stop me."

"I will."

"Oh? And who are you to try?" Yuri teased, hands sliding loosely over his partner's shoulders, arms straightening there as he loosely weaved his fingers together, "Who dares get between me and my Gold?"

"Viktor the Marvelous, Viktor the Magnificent...Viktor the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities."

"That changed tone suddenly."

"Well, you did say that I was going to bury you...I can't be marvelous and magnificent while I do so?"

"Bury me under Gold medals then."

"Hmmmnn..." The Russian hummed, stealing a quick kiss while he could, "If I must."

.

.

.

Gomen = Sorry

Nani? = What?

Taihen desu = This is terrible

Doshita? = What's wrong?

Nandemonai = Nothing