This is cross-posted on AO3 now!

So there were a few requests for a part two of vice-captian!Yakov and I was reading "Distance" by surveycorpsjean on AO3, when I was struck by the inspiration to write this.

I am calling this the "Yakov is….?" Series lmaooo

It's not as fun as part one, but since I'm planning on a part three, it's fine. ;)

Enjoy~

Chapter Name: Yakov is Yuuri's Rock?

Normal POV

Yes, Yakov had grown closer to Yuuri, created a sort of bond, with Victor gone in the past week, but that was as a coach. He sure as hell didn't sign up for this:

It was the third night since Victor had gone off on his trip. Yuuri was a model student all this time, and Yakov wondered, at first, if he had always been like that or if it were some sort of plot to get on his good side. But time passed and Yakov saw that face, with the melancholy wonder and sparkling eyes, and he knew that Katsuki Yuuri was a gem of a skater.

But he also knew that Yuuri struggled with anxiety that always seemed to hit hardest when he was going to compete. It made sense, Yakov thought. After all, skaters' hearts are as fragile as glass. But he didn't understand that anxiety. Nor did he know what it meant to leave Katsuki Yuuri alone in the apartment he shared with Victor for a week.

Yakov grunted as he climbed the last few steps up to the top floor of the small, but upscale, apartment building. It was a path that he had travelled many times in his life as coach to the living legend, Victor Nikiforov. He knocked on the door, sniffing at the cold air and trying to keep from chattering his teeth.

He clenched his jaw.

In his left hand was a stack of papers that had come in for Victor and Yuuri. As a coach, he could take care of them himself, but he had more than enough skaters to care for, and doing more than the absolutely necessary paperwork for each one gave him a migraine. He came to the conclusion, then, that his experienced skaters would always fill out their own paperwork.

That was why he was standing in the cold, his old joints aching and his breath coming out past his scarf in puffs. He reached up to knock again, but the sound of the lock on the door going had him quickly putting his fist at his side again.

"здравствуйте?" Came a soft voice.

Katsuki Yuuri opened the door a crack. It was dark inside the apartment. He kept his eyes down, and spoke barely above a whisper.

"Yuuri," Yakov let out in surprise, his papers forgotten at the sight of the young skater. His eyes and cheeks were red, and Yakov knew the man had cried. Cried until his eyes were exhausted and nearly swollen, and his cheeks were tinged scarlet from where the man had rubbed the tears away with the ends of his long-sleeved tee.

"Yakov coachii…" Yuuri's eyes widened a little and he seemed to snap himself awake. "Please, come in." He said, opening the door wider.

Yakov let out a puff. He had never intended to stay, but the warm air he could feel leaking out of the apartment made his joint sigh in relief and beg him for warmth.

Yuuri was already turned around, quickly lighting the apartment and bringing it to life. He smiled weakly at the elder, "I can make some tea, if you would like?"

"Yes, thank you." Yakov answered gruffly.

"Just make yourself at home, then." Yuuri said softly, turning into the kitchen. "Though you've probably been here more times than you can count, huh?" He laughed at himself.

Yakov's eyes did a quick sweep of the living room. There were small hints here and there that showed that the apartment had two occupants now, besides the dog. To the outsider, it was not obvious, but Yakov knew that the apartment had changed drastically. There were actual books on the bookshelf now, next to the wine bottles that Vitya kept there for guests. Some of them were even in Japanese, but the majority were in English. Victor had led the sad life of a bachelor to the T, but there were no longer random articles of clothing draped over a chair here or the couch there. There were pictures of the two of them on the walls. But most of all, Yuuri's silver medal at the GPF glinted in the warm lighting next to Vitya's five golds, all hung proudly on the wall. The five gold ones formed a small V on the wall, and the silver was placed in the middle of it.

And for god's sake, was that an actual tea set Yuuri was carrying in on that tray?

Yakov was seated on the couch, next to a soft gray blanket he realized Yuuri had just been curled up crying in. He sighed and set the papers on the table as Yuuri walked over, carrying the tray with practiced hands.

"So," Yuuri began with a small smile as he handed Yakov his cup. "What brings you here tonight?"

Yakov drank some of the tea before answering, reveling in the warmth. His body sighed with gratitude and relief at his choice to sit down and have tea with the boy.

"I just wanted to drop off the paperwork for the next competition. You should be able to get a head start before Vitya comes home." He answered shortly.

Yakov's sentences never beat around the bush. He was quick and to the point. Didn't talk more than he needed to unless he was angry or coaching.

That was why he didn't know who said, "I didn't expect to find you crying here tonight."

Until Yuuri was looking at him with wide eyes.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"I… Uh," Yakov was at a loss for words, but he supposed there was no undoing whatever he had just done.

"It's okay." Yuuri said, sensing his discomfort. "It's just…" He took in a deep breath and something in Yakov's chest went still. "Victor and I have never been apart for more than two days in the past nine months. The last time was…"

"The Rostelecom Cup." Yakov murmured, finishing the sentence for the young one before him, whose voice had caught in his throat.

Yuuri let out a weak laugh. "Ridiculous, right? I mean, it's only a week! People go without seeing their loved ones for weeks all the time. Some couples even manage long distance!"

"But did they see each other every day for nine months?" Yakov raised a brow. "Did they work together under as much pressure as you? Work for a goal too big to bear alone?"

Yakov honestly didn't know what was bringing all of this on. It wasn't like him to give emotional support to his skaters unless it was for the sake of a competition. Hell, most of them didn't need it in the first place. But this was Yuuri they were talking about.

Yuuri, who had breathed life into Vitya's skating.

Yuuri, who had inspired and motivated Yuri, no matter how much the younger of the two denied it.

Yuuri, who was the model student and made him that packed lunch.

Yuuri, who was giving Vitya all his love and life, to the point where it made a visual impact on Vitya's happiness and apartment.

Yuuri, who had opened the door in tears.

His mind flashed to those small, lonely, circles Yuuri made on the ice in the morning, when he thought no one was looking.

Yakov set his tea cup down. "You love Vitya a lot."

Yuuri grasped one of his own fists and brought the prayer, the wish, to his chest, curling in on himself. "To the point where it hurts to breathe."

They were silent for a moment, Yuuri fighting tears and Yakov trying to make sure the clenching feeling in his chest wasn't the onset of a heart attack.

"Vitya feels the same way." Yakov suddenly said, with a conviction he didn't know he had. He stood up, surprising the young skater. "Call him." He ordered sharply enough to have him scrambling for the phone.

Yuuri bit his lip. "What if he's busy? What if I'm bothering him?"

Yakov wanted to slam his head in a wall. Who was he? A marriage counselor? "Get over yourself." He let out harshly, and Yuuri flinched. He sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose impatiently. He unclenched his jaw and spoke again. "He's probably asking himself the same thing about you."

Yuuri's eyes widened, but before he had the chance to say anything back, Yakov was gone.

"Yakov coachii…"

Yuuri would hug him tomorrow. Not for help, but for thanks. Like he did at the Rostelecom Cup.

Meanwhile… Yuuri sighed. He would have to clean up and man up.

He cleared away the tea set and washed up the kitchen before sitting down at the couch again, petting Makkachin's head as the poodle slept at the end of it.

Yakov's voice and advice flashed across his mind as he picked up his phone and dialed the familiar number. He had dialed it more times than he could count that night, and he had memorized it, despite the fact that he had never needed to call Victor before because the man was always at his side.

Victor picked up on the first ring. "Yuuri~ Hello~!" Yuuri sighed at the comforting sound of his voice. "I was just going to call you! Amazing how you read my mind. I guess we really were fated to be together?"

Yuuri shook his head with a laugh, finding his lover and his own behavior to be silly.

He had worried for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But that didn't stop his longing for his lover's arms. To hear his voice in his ear. To feel his warmth on the other side of the bed.

Yuuri spilled his guts to Victor the next night.

He finished with a soft, "I miss you…"

Victor was home less than 24 hours later.

Yakov didn't care as long as he didn't find his skaters crying for each other like that again.

Yuuri said "Hello?" in Russian. It's formal, because he doesn't know who's at the door, and I don't think he'd speak to Yakov informally in Russian yet? He speaks pretty normally in English, so I don't think too much about it lol.

Lmaooo this is on the sad side, huh? I like it though. I really think, since ep 9 and its reunion scene, that Yuuri and Victor would miss each other a lot more if it were longer than two days. That hug in the airport was so desperate. TT^TT

The next part will be more light-hearted, I promise. ;) I just wanted to give Yakov and Yuuri's relationship a little more depth before I go on with more fun~!

Please leave me a review and tell me what you thought~ Any requests for the next part? I've got a few ideas lined up, but I want to hear yours! Let me know!

~Crescent T.