Yuuri in Russia
5: Don't get Homesick
Pichit was sitting on a stool by the kitchen island, holding his tea in both hands while Yuuri was pouring himself a cup. "So, you haven't been posting on insta a lot lately," Yuuri hummed in response, "any special reason for that?"
"No." The Japanese man found his tea quite interesting.
"Really?" Yuuri all but dropped the empty kettle on the stove.
"Considering how many pictures Viktor uploads, not to mention the ones Yurio uses to make fun of me, I don't think the internet needs anymore pictures of me." He increasingly became agitated as he spoke. Pichit laughed, earning a glare from Yuuri.
"Nonsense, Yuuri. The internet can never have enough selfies. Here, come over." Pichit motioned him over once he stopped laughing. He quickly pulled out his phone. Yuuri sighed, but decided to humor his friend. He plopped himself in the stool next to him though he looked unamused. Pichit pouted at him through the camera, making Yuuri laugh. Pichit's eyes lit up, and he leaned forward to kiss Yuuri on his cheek. The noise of the shutter mingled with Yuuri's surprised yelp.
"What was that for, Pichit?" Yuuri wailed without any real malice. He was much too used to his friends antics by now.
"Insta material among other things," Pichit chuckled to himself.
"Among other things?"
"Say, Yuuri, how is Viktor?" Pichit asked suggestively, wriggling his eyebrows. When Yuuri turned red and stammered an incomprehensible response, he continued, "I mean, he won world, prix, and other things with nothing less than gold. He must be killer in -
"I'm not answering that," Yuuri mumbled, looking away from his friend. It was too hot to drink warm tea he thought.
"Oh, come on, Yuuri." Pichit laughed when Yuuri turned to glare at him. "Fine, fine. I'll get it out of you eventually." Yuuri groaned and placed his forehead on the kitchen island. He loved Pichit like the brother he never had, but what did he ever do to deserve his constant teasing? "So, tell me again about how Yakov kicked you out of the skating rink."
Yuuri whined; he did not want to tell that story again. "It wasn't my fault. It was all Viktor's."
"Uhuh, sure."
"It was! And I wasn't kicked out!"
"Yurio! Can you check my form?" Over the past couple of days, the two skaters had been helping one another on and off the rink. God forbid someone mention it to Yuri, however, as he would most likely respond with a flurry of colorful words. Right now the blonde scowled, but nodded. He needed a break anyway, so he glided over to the edge of the rink where his water bottle was. He took a sip of it just as Yuuri was starting to perform Eros.
"I don't know why he asks you. I mean, I'm his coach!" Viktor skated in small circles in front of Yuri.
"Maybe it's because I don't drool at his every move," Yuri scathingly replied, not looking at the older skater.
"When have I ever?" Viktor looked affronted. Yuri rolled his eyes. They lapsed into silence as they watched Yuuri skate. His movements were fluid, and if the song had been playing, he would have been perfectly in sync in his step sequence. Viktor whistled, causing Yuuri to get flustered and flub his fist jump. Yuri glared at the Russian skater who just smiled and shrugged.
"Viktor! What do you think you're doing over there," Yakov angrily shouted from down the rink, "get back to practice!"
"Yeah, listen to the old man. Everyone knows you need it," Yuri sneered. Really, how many times did Viktor have to come over to his side of the rink. He was fucking annoying. The younger skater didn't spare Viktor a glance as the he skated away. He continued to watch the skater in front of him until he was done.
"Apart from that sorry excuse of a jump, you looked alright," Yuri muttered when the brunette joined him. Yuuri beamed at him that was as much of a compliments as he was going to get from the blonde, at this point anyway.
"May I have some water?" He asked, gesturing to the bottle in Yuuri's hands. Yuri made a noncommittal sound, but otherwise handed the bottle over. The closer the he looked, the more he saw the telltale signs of exhaustion in the older skater. The dark spots under his eyes were faint, but still visible and his skin was ashen.
"Are you alright, Katsudon?" Yuri studied him suspiciously. Yuuri grimaced and made an attempt at hiding his rising discomfort.
"What?"
"Have you been sleeping alright?" Yuri mumbled a bit later, not facing the other skater directly. He only looked at him when his question was answered.
"You noticed, huh?" Yuuri sighed, placing the bottle on the edge of the rink, "I think it's just homesickness. I hadn't been home in five years, so I guess I got used to being there again. It'll go away soon." He tried waving it off like it was nothing.
"So much that it's affecting your sleep? Have you told Viktor?"
Yuuri sheepishly shook his head, and after Yuri was about to start yelling at him he added, "He noticed though! That's why he won't stop hovering over me and trying to cheer me up." If you could call it that, Yuri snidely thought, but didn't say.
"Hmph, that's it?" The Russian crossed his arms in front of himself. "I mean, there's nothing physically wrong with you? You're not sick?" He amended after Yuuri shot him a hurt look.
"No. I'm not sick," Yuuri smiled, "Thanks for asking."
"Whatever," Yuri grumbled back and fled the scene. The Japanese skater looked at him go, puzzled. Then he shrugged and meandered around their side of the rink.
"Yuuri! That was an alright performance considering you did mess up that jump," Viktor called out, waving at him as he skated his way back.
"Yeah, no fault of yours, right," The brunette mumbled to himself quietly enough so that Viktor only tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy.
"Anyway, how are you feeling? Better? Is there anything I can do for you?" With each question the eager Russian got closer and closer. "Is there anything special you want to eat for dinner tonight? I could make you something if you want?"
Yuuri held he's hand up, motioning for the man to stop talking, "the last time you cooked, you almost burned the kitchen down trying to show off."
"Okay. That was one time," Viktor huffed, then coyly smiled, "if not that, then maybe I could make your evening worthwhile in other ways." Yuuri blushed instantly and averted his gaze from the older skater. He tried stuttering a response about there being others around, but Viktor just loomed closer. Viktor smirked, reaching up to cradle Yuuri's cheek with his hand. They were so deliciously close to one another that Yuuri could taste Viktor's breath on his lips.
"VIKTOR NIKIFOROV! I SWEAR," Yakov could barely contain his rising anger. He had been keeping a close eye on the platinum haired skater, but somehow, he had lost him when Mila had come up to discuss something or other with him. When he looked up and saw that Viktor was once again on the other side of the rink conversing – no, flirting with their newest addition, the last bit of patience he had for the boy snapped.
Viktor plastered a nervous smile on his lips and turned back to watch his coach stomp his way over from outside the rink. Yuuri looked terrified. Yakov simmered down by the time he reached them, gripping the sideboard so hard that his knuckles were white.
"You!" He pointed at Viktor, and had a scowl that could rival Yuri at his most angry, "Leave Yuuri ALONE when he is trying to PRACTICE! YOU HAVE YOUR OWN DAMN PRACTICE TO COMPLETE!"
"But, I'm his coach!" Viktor complained, pouting. Yakov was undeterred. His mind was already made up.
"Is that what you call it?" Yakov retorted in an angry tone. He turned to Yuuri, who was hiding behind Viktor, and his tone softened somewhat. "You do want to win gold, right?" Yuuri nodded, "Then go home for now. Take Yura with you if you see him and come back at six for a practice session with me."
"What?" Viktor exclaimed. Yuuri looked confused.
"Until you can show me that you are entirely committed to skating again and can coach in a professional manner, I am taking charge of Yuuri," he glared Viktor into silence when he started to protest, and continued explaining as if were the most obvious thing in the world, "You can't coach him effectively right now, and even I can tell he's not entirely focused on skating right now. He wants to win gold, but he won't if you keep on being idiotic and doing things half assed."
Viktor looked ticked off, but his shoulders slumped down a bit. Contrary to what others thought, he was very receptive to his Coach's opinion. Yuuri reach out to him, "It's fine. Coach Yakov has a point." Viktor looked like he was about to whine.
"I'm glad you realize. Now, go." Yakov's tone left no room for argument. Yuuri nodded, grabbing the blade guards he had left on the side board earlier and skated to the nearest entrance of the rink. He glanced back to see Yakov thoroughly scolding Viktor. It was an odd sight to see. Viktor always looked otherworldly to him before. He sighed and bent down to clasp the guards on to the blades before stepping out to look for Yuri.
"HO! That's hilarious," Pichit said after laughing his ass off, "No wonder Viktor isn't here."
"Yeah, laugh it up while you still can," Yuuri knowingly smirked, "You have to come with me to practice, remember? Ciao Ciao said so."
Pichit rolled his eyes, "It can't be that bad."
"Just you wait. Coach Yakov is pretty spartan."
A/N: Ok, so I'm a liar. I promised the chapter two (?) saturdays ago, but here it is. I hate how it turned out, and I will probably re write it completely at a later date. I don't know when the next chapter will be finished, so you guys are going to have to make do with for reading, please give feedback!