CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED FOUR

Viktor was still acting like a sourpuss as he grudgingly pulled his sneakers off and replaced them with his skates. He muttered quiet words under his breath that none could hear, even Yuri, where he stood close by watching and waiting. When all was done though, and the tense Russian extended his legs out before leaning back against the couch, the nonsense-whispering ended and all the skater could do was stare up at the ceiling indignantly.

"If you keep making a face like that, it's going to be stuck that way." Yuri commented, drawing those blue eyes down again.

There was hardly time to even process an appropriate response before Viktor felt the weight of his partner's body sitting on the end of his knees, hands pressing down against his thighs as the younger man looked straight at him. The Russian sighed, but instead of answering to the jest, stretched his arms and legs out as far as they could go before flopping to sag against his seat.

"All this because we missed the morning romp." Yuri quipped, then looking a bit more serious, "Can I do anything make you feel better until later...?"

"Not likely..." Viktor sighed, his expression and demeanor becoming more haggard than before, like he was on the edge of surrender, "...I'll just have to sit and stew in my discontent, mourning the loss of opportunities..."

Hazel eyes looked aside briefly, then to the other direction, and finally settled forward again as Yuri walked his hands up his partner's thighs, settling them against his spouse's chest as he leaned in a bit closer. His cheeks were flushed red before he even had a chance to say anything, which caught Viktor's attention more than anything, "...What if I...ahh...helped you...?"

"...Mh?"

"You know..." Yuri started again, looking almost as innocent as he had the night he'd offered that gold ring, "...Like how you helped me during the Banquet in Bordeaux."

"...Oh." Viktor blinked at him in momentary confusion, only for realization to dawn shortly after, "OH. THAT."

A nervous nod answered.

"...You'd really do that...?"

Another nod, this time more assured, "With the time we have left before the practice is supposed to start... I know I'm not that good at it, but...I could help take the edge off...? I don't want you to feel cranky all day..."

All the silver Russian could do was stare adoringly at the man sitting on his knees, his eyes getting huge and watery the longer it went on. Yuri took that as an acceptance though and moved to stand up before the dam burst and the water-works began, offering his hands to help pull the man to his feet. Once Viktor was up, Yuri reached for the small satchel of the Russian's theatrical make-up to use as an excuse in case anyone got too inquisitive, and guided his hapless husband back towards the big individual-use restroom.

.

"DAD."

There was mayhem and chaos as blankets, pillows, and teenagers flew around the room. But there was no doubt that Mikhail was awake then, even if he was only staring wide-eyed at the ceiling on the edge of having a heart attack.

"IT'S NEARLY ONE. WE'RE STARVING. GET OUT OF BED ALREADY."

The stunned elder Russian turned his head slightly, looking over at the emaciated faces of his two irritable daughters, "...Just...order room service or something...?"

"NO. GET OUT OF BED. WE'RE GOING OUT."

"Are we." He answered flatly, more as a statement than a question.

"DAD!"

"...Fine...!" The elder relented, rolling onto his side to face away from the two. He just went limp there though, staring at the wall with half-dead eyes.

I didn't sleep at all last night. I'm going to be a zombie all damn day.

He felt the bed moving behind himself, and was ready for almost anything...except the feeling of cold fingers against the skin of his lower back, which made him twitch suddenly and recoil. He twisted to sitting upright and gawked at whoever had gotten behind him; Nikkita.

"You shouldn't move around like that." She warned, "I'd almost forgotten that you hurt yourself, until just now, when I saw the marks..."

Mikhail grimaced, "...Yeah."

"Cousin Viktor went all the way back to Russia so you wouldn't have to fly to Japan by yourself."

"He did."

"So why is he so mad at you now? It's only been a week since then."

Viktoria crossed her arms and gave a strange look, "The way he is with his Yuri, if I didn't know it happened, I'd think it impossible for him to actually leave somewhere on his own. But he did, for you, and now you're at each other's necks...almost literally."

"I don't need you two lecturing me about my relationship with my nephew." Mikhail grumbled, throwing the sheets back to stand up, though feeling a slight twinge where he'd once cracked a vertebra, and paused to grope for it. When the sore spot faded, he stood upright again, the heels of his night-pants dragging along the floor as he shuffled along to find his travel bag, "Things with him are complicated and confusing at the best of times."

"You need to sort it out with him, whatever it is." Nikki said, pushing back from where she'd sat on her knees on the mattress, "We need to sort everything out, with everyone. If we go on to Russia with Yuri but there's still tension between you and Minako and Viktor...it's just going to make it all awkward and annoying. Maybe you could have Viktor's Yuri help sort things out since he's close to the both of the-"

Mikhail whipped his head around and stared at the youngest of his children, "I don't need a kid less than half my age being a mediator between me and anyone else."

Nikki crossed her arms defiantly, "...You were sure happy to use him to talk to Yura before."

"That's because the problem was between them." He turned back around and rifled through his things, finding something to wear...or at least making the motions like he was.

"And he's between Cousin Viktor and Minako."

Mikhail gave an exasperated sigh and dropped the charcoal-grey slacks he'd found, pushing back to his feet and turning around to look at the two teens, "Why are you two so invested in this anyway? You've barely been around any of these people for more than 3 days, total."

"Because we want things to work out." Viktoria answered for them, "You've been different since you found Viktor again, and maybe even a bit happy since you met Minako. But you've gone back to being the 'stereotypical angry Russian' you used to be and we kind of hate it."

The bluntness of the girl's words hit the elder hard, and he had no answer for it.

"So Minako gave you the ring back. I get that it wounded your pride, but...it's not like she said she was leaving you." Viktoria went on, crossing her arms across her chest, "And Viktor even tried to make amends yesterday, but you blew up at him instead. You're not doing anyone any favors by pushing everyone away."

"I'm just trying to have some space." Mikhail huffed, turning and kneeling in front of his bag again to find the rest of his things, "Minako told me that I'm an idiot when it comes to solving family problems so maybe it's for the best that I don't try to make things work by doing anything."

"Pipaw...you're the smartest person we know." Viktoria sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed just behind the man, "You can fix this."

"Relationships aren't like trucks, tanks, or lawnmowers, Vikki." Mikhail said quietly, finally finding the assortment of dark-colored clothes he wanted, "All the stuff I know how to fix is inanimate and has no choice in whether or not my repairs take. Either it works, or it doesn't...and it's only on me, no matter what the outcome. But other people do have a choice."

"...And you're trying to make it for them by making it difficult for them to get close to you. You're not even giving them a chance. You might as well be slamming a door in their faces."

The elder Russian paused where he was, looking into the bottom of the carry-bag like it was an unyielding pit. He shook his head and sighed as he rose back up to his feet, "...Maybe."

"We should figure out where Minako and Mari spent the night and see if they want to come do stuff with us before the Gala." Nikki suggested, "I'll bet they only took off because they didn't want to make you feel bad by hovering when it was already pretty tense."

"...Am I really such bad company?" Mikhail sighed.

"Ahhhhhhhh...that's a loaded question." Viktoria answered, side-eyeing her sister, "Let's just say that you were a walking-cane away from going into 'cantankerous old man' mode. You know, the whole get off my lawn, turn down that music thing, waving the cane around like you mean to beat someone with it if you catch them."

"I was actually given a cane by the hospital in Moscow...but I refused to take it with me." The elder huffed a laugh at the thought, but then shook his head, yawned, and slouched a little, "...I might be too tired to chase after anyone today, cane or not." He admitted, "I don't think I ever fell asleep."

"Sounds like you're not going to be driving today, then." Viktoria pointed out.

Mikhail reached a hand up to rub his chin in thought, "...I think...I might have a better idea."

.

The crowd of participating Gala skaters all clapped for a practice well-done as things finally started winding down. Pulling a complete 180 from the morning, one certain Viktor Nikiforov was finally all smiles again, having fun and being a giant dork as per his normal custom...at least partially, given how his Partner in Dorkdom wasn't around. That didn't stop him from being excitable though.

"Neh neh, Yuri...!" He called out, sliding across the ice to where his partner was waiting against the rink wall, "I just remembered...there's a lift we could do that's named after this city! We should do it during the Team Skate!"

"There's a lift called Detroit...?" Yuri answered curiously, "As long as it's not a throw, I guess."

"Nope! Just a lift! It's called 'The Detroiter!' Come out here and I'll show you!" The Russian said, hardly giving his husband a chance to answer before finding himself getting dragged out towards the center of the rink anyway, "Okay...okay! Here...we start like this...and you come around here and put your left leg out."

The younger skater quirked a brow but did as told, only to find Viktor putting one hand under it and motioning to lift.

"I'll hoist you up onto my left shoulder by pulling up on your leg here, and you'll twist across both of my shoulders with your legs out the other way while on your back."

Feeling the butterflies in his stomach, Yuri nodded, and in a half-second, he was up in the air, with one of his spouse's hands now between his legs to hold him steady while the other hand came up towards his arm.

"Now, straighten out as much as you can, cross your ankles, and hold your fingers together. I'll start rotating in place, but I'll go slow."

Yuri nervously did as told, cautious of when his head would start to spin, but keeping a keen eye everything to try and avoid it. He felt the hand near his shoulder moving towards the back of his neck as he stretched out like he'd been told.

"Then, I lift you from here...ready?"

"H-hai."

"Hup!"

Viktor bent his knees a bit and used the upward momentum to toss his husband above his head, straightening his arms out and rotating a bit faster.

Yurio huffed and shook his head from his vantage near the rink wall, a lip on the nub of his water bottle. About to turn away to find his blade-guards though, he suddenly heard a familiar voice rising up and getting enthusiastic.

"Oh! Are we lifting the guys now!?" Mila cried, grabbing the Russian Punk rather unexpectedly and hoisting him into the air as well before skating out to join the original duo, laughing all the way.

"BABA, PUT ME DOWN."