CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED TWENTY SEVEN

Despite the long nap from the afternoon before, the sleep debt accrued over the previous weeks made it easy to stay in bed until well past noon. Especially since he was finally under his own blankets, in his own bed, in his own house...Yuri was practically in a vegetative state. When he'd made enough of a payment towards that debt, and his eyes started to crack open, he managed to roll over into a slightly different position and fell asleep for another half hour.

But, then his eyes shot open.

Staring straight at the far wall with the window, and the bright, sunny winter day outside, Yuri realized...he wasn't touching anyone. For a brief moment, panic set in, and he pushed himself up onto his elbow, only to look behind himself and realize Viktor had been there all along. The man was lying flat on his back, ankles crossed near the foot of the bed, but he was above the covers instead of within them. Yuri turned onto his other side and let himself lie down again, reaching up with his free hand to rub his eyes and then out to slide his fingers across his partner's bare chest. He drew in close, like always did, and kissed the edge of the man's shoulder.

"Texting with Chris or something?" He wondered quietly, closing his eyes again, and ignoring the display on the Russian's phone where Viktor held it up a few inches in front of his face.

"I'm not texting anyone." Viktor answered simply, thumbing the screen to move the images displayed on it, "I'm reading."

"What about?"

"Internet outrage."

One eye peeked open again, and Yuri turned his head, looking at the blurry screen with his naked eyes, "Is that healthy to look at right after waking up?" He wondered idly, able to discern the images, but not the tiny font that appeared with them.

Viktor had no answer for that. The only sound that came from him was the tap of his finger on his phone as he scrolled more.

Yuri turned his eyes from the phone to his husband's face, and saw the haggard, tired expression thereupon, "Viktor...?"

More silence. All he got was the slow blink of someone who hadn't slept, but those blue eyes were still fixed on the screen. Feeling a little frustrated, Yuri pulled the blankets off himself and shuffled to get on top of them instead, then crawled over on his hands and knees until he could sit over his spouse's lap. One finger went forward and hooked over the upper lip of the phone, pulling back on it until it slipped out of the Russian's hands, and Yuri got an unobstructed look at his partner's face.

Dark circles were under those blue eyes, and Viktor looked even paler than he normally did. His hair looked strange as well, as though it were made damp some hours before, and dried in clumps and strands; it was duller than normal, too. It looked more like glossy grey plastic than the luminous platinum it normally did.

Yuri sat up straighter in surprise at the Russian's disheveled look, a worried expression crossing his own face. He reached forward then, brushing a few strands of that hair out of his partner's eye before turning his wrist to press it to the man's forehead, "You're really hot. Are you feeling sick...?"

"I feel cold." Viktor answered, his voice barely over a whisper, "But I'm burning."

"You feel clammy. Did you sleep at all?"

"...No."

Yuri rose off the Russian's hips immediately, moving to sit next to him instead, and scooted a few inches forward against the edge of the bed, "So you've just been lying here all night on your phone...?"

"...It was the only way I could make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

"Everything." Viktor said simply, his eyes drifting away, staring up at the ceiling instead, "My heart was racing almost all night long. I think I was calm for...maybe an hour...trying to fall asleep, but the longer it went, the more I could feel everything changing. I was burning up, and I could feel my heartbeat in my throat and head. Every muscle in my body was tight. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath. I couldn't even bear to touch you, to hold you like I always do...you were too hot."

It was all hard to hear, but the last bit made Yuri's heart sink.

"I got out from under the covers and stood on the balcony for a little while, hoping the winter night would cool me off, but it only made my skin freeze while the rest of me smoldered from within." Viktor went on, every word taking so much more effort than normal, "So I just came back to bed and tried to fall asleep again... All I managed was to cry for a while. I got a massive headache. I thought about calling 119 but realized I wouldn't be able to tell them what's wrong anyway because I don't speak enough Japanese."

"Why didn't you wake me up? I would've-"

"This is grief, like you said..." The Russian answered simply, "That's not a medical problem."

"No, but having your blood pressure so high that you can feel it in your head, and burning up with a fever, is a medical problem..."

"...This is in my head. I just...need to get through it." Viktor rationalized, even if poorly. He reached for where his phone had come to rest on the sheets next to his left him, "I started to feel a little better after I started reading peoples' reactions to what happened." He managed something of a sarcastic half-smile, "The RSF page has their announcement about my sanction way at the bottom, in small text...easy to miss if you're only interested in headlines. It's like they only posted it because they had to. There was even a petition started by one of my fan-groups back in Russia, hoping to get the sanctions lifted...but the RSF won't budge. Their pride is on the line. The ISU itself could threaten to revoke Russia's status in the organization, and remove all future competitions from Russian rinks, and they still won't let me back in. It would look...weak."

Yuri pressed his hand to his husband's chest again and rubbed there gently, reassuringly, "Did they go into any detail about why they did this?"

"No more than Yakov said." Viktor said, his head tilting slightly against the pillow like he was attempting to shake it 'no,' but gave up in the middle of it, "Less than Yakov said, actually... They only referenced the medaling ceremony, but we know they've been planning this since NHK."

"...Now I feel terrible..." Yuri sighed, lowering his head and clenching his eyes shut, looking up again only when he felt Viktor's hand come up to clasp over where his own was still settled on the man's chest, "All night you were feeling so bad, and I was sleeping soundly right next to you, with no idea what was going on. I couldn't hold you or comfort you or anything..."

"I wouldn't have let you." The silver legend explained, "I would've been wrapped around you anyway if I could, but...you were hot like a furnace. Even through the blankets, when I tried to just rest my arm against you..."

The younger figure raised his wrist to his own forehead, wondering if he'd come down with something to make him feel so strange to his partner, but found his skin feeling as normal as ever. He's all out of sync with himself because of this awful news, and there's nothing I can do to help him.

"I started reading online since I couldn't sleep..." Viktor went on, "And all the people who'd made comments of support helped my heart stop racing so much, so I just kept reading... People would comment so fast that by the time I reached the end of the archive, I'd refresh and the archive would've doubled in size. I guess it made me feel better because it isn't just us...everyone is angry."

"...Have you been answering?" Yuri asked pensively.

Tiredly, Viktor managed to shake his head once, "I haven't said anything to anyone. That's kind of making everyone mad, too, actually...but I just don't have the energy..."

It was odd to feel relief over that answer, but that's what it was like, and Yuri felt his heart ease off its anxious pace. He leaned forward and kissed his husband's forehead, "Let me help you get cleaned up then. I can help you make a post of some sort just so everyone knows you haven't fallen off the edge of the world somehow, just like how you helped me with one after Skate Canada."

Slightly-red eyes looked on, but Viktor seemed to recognize the sense in those words, even if he was too exhausted to want to go through with them. With Yuri's help, he managed to sit up, and slowly hobble towards the shower room, slowly lowering down to the short stool that Yuri moved out for him. The tub next to him began filling up as he let himself relax into the feeling of steam and the smell of soap, then the gentle cascade of the shower-head pouring tepid water over his back. It helped more than the outdoor air did in making him feel cooler, and the tense feeling in his chest started melting away as well. Yuri's doting attention and the massage-like quality of the wash was everything Viktor could've hoped for. Feeling clean after the fever-sweat overnight was special, too, and he sank low in the tub after Yuri finished rinsing him off. The water there was lukewarm as well, and he let himself close his eyes.

Yuri took his turn on the stool for his own pre-soak wash-up, carefully watching his partner in case he actually fell asleep somehow and sank too far.

Eventually, they were dressed and heading down the stairs to the main areas below. That's when something struck Yuri that he'd had floating at the back of his mind as an odd concern.

"Where are the dogs?"

Viktor looked around while Yuri helped him balance, and managed a wry huff, "Guess that explains why Makkachin wasn't bringing us his food bowl, begging for breakfast."

"Eh?" Yuri looked up, but then over at where the Russian was pointing, and his eyes went wide.

The kitchen had exploded.

Somehow, Makkachin had gotten into the pantry, and there was puppy and adult dog kibble strewn all over the floor. In the middle of it all, both Makkachin and Jiro were sitting pretty, tails wagging, each of them looking rather pleased with themselves.

Yuri groaned dramatically at the sight of them, but his first task was getting his husband to the couch. Spending all night shivering, sweating, and feeling like his heart would burst had left him rather lethargic. So, once the silver Russian was settled in with a blanket, the television remote, and his phone, Yuri went about his task of cleaning up after their desperate furry children.

"I hope you two are satisfied." He commented at them, "I have to clean all this up before I can make Viktor something to eat."

They blinked and tilted their heads at him.

"Oh my god stop it." Yuri lamented dryly, then pointing out to the livingroom, "Go sit with Viktor."

Makkachin was quick to go, happy to snuggle with anyone who gave him the time, but Jiro was still confused. He watched the poodle vanish around the island counter, but then turned his small dark eyes back up to Yuri, and gave something of a whimper-bark like he didn't know what to do.

"Ahhhhhhhh." Yuri whined back, stepping forward, and carefully, through the mine-field of kibble on the tile, and scooped the puppy up. He waddled back towards the livingroom and hoisted the pup over the back of the blue couch, setting Jiro down on Viktor's lap, just behind where he'd been holding his phone up. Jiro was immediately trying to wiggle under the man's wrists and get some attention. Viktor was focused though.

"Yuri," He said suddenly, getting the younger man's attention, "Look!"

"What is it?"

"My fans are calling for a boycott of Russian Nationals, now that I won't be there." Viktor explained, pointing to a Russian blog, "See?"

"I can't read Cyrillic. CTON, remember?"

Blue eyes blinked at him, but he laughed then, weakly as it was, "Yeah...CTON." He pulled his phone back then, resting it on Jiro's back as the pup wagged his tail, "Well...they're boycotting. That's sweet, I guess."

"That's pretty crazy. The RSF really messed up with this one." Yuri added, heading back to the kitchen to find the broom and dust pan, starting to gather up all the dusty food that would have to be thrown out and replaced, "I kind of feel bad for Yurio now though. If the fans boycott Russian Nationals because you're not skating, who will be there to watch him? Mila too...heck, even Georgi...and Yakov did say Georgi's probably only holding out this last year because of the Olympics anyway."

"Maybe." Viktor whispered back.

"Do you want to talk about how our plans are changing now...?" Yuri wondered, dumping the first pan of spoiled kibble away, "Or would you rather eat first?"

"A lot more than just our plans are changing." Viktor commented, looking up slightly from the screen, "I'd rather eat and maybe try to take a nap first...not all of it is a good change."

"What do you mean?"

Viktor tilted his head back so he could see over the back of the couch, "Without me competing, it's just you earning an income now. I won't be able to bring home competition prizes anymore."

"Oh." Yuri answered, almost blankly. It didn't seem to bother him, which made the Russian rather confused.

"You don't seem...that surprised or upset by that."

"Well..." He turned back to his task, sweeping under the bottom lip of the counter cabinets to get all the brown balls that scattered to the base of the walls, "One of the first things I thought about was the loss of the prize money after you gave the Gold to me. I guess I've just been figuring out how to manage that ever since, because we were originally counting on it. But..."

"...But...?"

"Our situation is special. We don't have to worry about most of the same fees that we did before you came here, like paying for a coach, ice time at the rink, dancing lessons, physical therapy when we wear ourselves down...all that." Yuri explained, working his way around the baseboards as he talked, "We just give the skating unions their share for sending us to these events, buy our costumes and skates, and we basically get to keep the rest, because our friends and family help us out for free. You also kind of helped put Hasetsu on the map as a big deal for tourists, so we get a bit of money from that... You made me learn how to set up a GoFundme last year, when you learned that YuTopia Katsuki had been paying for all my stuff to that point, so the both of us have been getting cash from fans, basically. You also still have that inheritance chunk squirreled away somewhere." He put the last of the kibble in the waste bin, and looked around at the floor in case he missed something before putting the broom and dust pan away, "All told, we're really not in bad shape. We both got Gold at our 2 events so, minus the RSF and JSF fees, we're getting something like...US$12,000 for each of those 4 events. I got to keep some US$20,000 from the Final, and I still have Nationals, Four Continents, Worlds, and whatever I might get from the Olympics if I medal."

"You'll medal."

"Point is, barring some other injury on me...we'll be okay."

"Now you're just tempting fate." Viktor commented dubiously.

"You're the one with the gift of foresight." Yuri answered dryly over the island counter, "Remember how you predicted my collision with JJ at the Final?"

.

"Uh oh..."

"...Huh?"

"Here it comes. Premonition time." Yuri said nervously, crossing his own fingers and looking up, "Please don't let it be bad."

Viktor cleared his throat, wondering if he should say anything then, but then shook his head, "...Mark my words." He repeated, "One of these days, his ego is going to get someone hurt. Hopefully mostly him."

"...Ahhh it's bad...!" The younger skater threw his arms into the air, "Now something's going to happen!"

.

Jiro was chewing on his nails where he still laid on Viktor's chest, and the Russian watched him with a strange look on his face, "...Maybe I just know him better than I want to admit. I only go where the evidence leads me, my love, and history always repeats itself."

"Only if we don't learn from it." Yuri answered, moving over to the sink to wash his hands, "Now...what do you want to eat? I'll even try to not to burn the house down this time."