Archive of Our Own ^beta

He had woken up alone in their St. Petersburg apartment, which was rare. Yuuri had grown wonderfully accustomed to the new city in the few months they'd been living together.  Which had been a relief to Viktor, but he'd been able to count on one hand the number of times Yuuri had woken up before him, let alone left before he'd even registered his boyfriend getting up. A note had been on the counter, written in tight, neat Cyrillic and signed in Japanese, next to a pot of fresh coffee:

"Went to practice early.
Hope you have a good morning!
XO - Yuuri"

With a frown, Viktor had showered quickly and made his coffee and a quick breakfast of ham on buttered Borodinsky toast to go - hurrying to the rink to see just what had gotten into his usual sleeping beauty. As he entered the arena, the cold air laced with the scent of ice and sweat, his cerulean eyes had found Yuuri almost immediately. He was on the far side of the ice, practicing the new segment of choreography they'd developed together a few days prior, already showing great improvement in his precision.

Eyebrows cinched together, still confused, he stowed his bag in his locker and began to lace up and put on his gloves. A hand was on the boards, ready to remove his guards and take to the ice to find his answers when Yakov grunted behind him. He turned to the usual grumpy countenance of his own coach with a resigned sigh and looked back to his student, who had stopped working and gave him a small wave, his cheeks flushed with exertion. Odd, as Yuuri didn't usually have a pink tinge on his cheeks unless he'd been jumping, and they had agreed to work on jumps together to ensure neither would come to any injury. But with Yakov's insistence at a conversation, he'd have to solve the mystery a little later. Viktor gave a small smile and returned the wave - a promise to be there soon.

He was barely listening to Yakov's suggestions for his routine they were working on for a sponsor as he watched Yuuri over the angry Russian's shoulder.  Eyes narrowing as Yuuri's ankle wobbled as he marked where his quadruple flip would be, and then transitioned into a loose layback and Biellmann spin. Viktor's hands were already on his guards removing them as Yuuri came out of the spin and went to mark his next combo, and his toe pick caught, spilling himself onto the sheet. Gasps filled the rink from the other skaters, and Viktor was racing over to the far side of the rink. The Japanese man had already picked himself up and was brushing ice shavings from his pants, panting heavily as Viktor plowed to a stop before him.

"I saw that unsteady ankle," he frowned, bending over to urge the very flushed Yuuri to stand up straight. The cinnamon eyes that he loved so well were glassy, and upon seeing him up close, there was a sheen of sweat covering the man's face and neck. “Yuuri-chan, are you not feeling well today?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I think I'm just tired…" Yuuri mumbled, embarrassed by his fall when he hadn't even been doing anything too strenuous. Viktor's tongue ticked against his teeth and he removed a glove, the back of his hand pushing the dark fringe out of Yuuri's face to feel his skin. It was hot to the touch and his frown dove deeper.

“Pizdets! You have a fever.” he scolded, pinching a red cheek and tugging to show his disapproval. Yuuri had been leaning into his cool hand but then tried to slide back from the pulling at his skin with a protesting groan, "And you're getting dizzy from spins, you need to go home."

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something and Viktor caught his lower lip between his forefinger and thumb, scowling, and whatever words the other man were about to speak fell silent as his eyes widened.

"You're lucky you didn’t get hurt, what if you had fallen out of your spin? You could have hurt your wrist, or your ankle. Off the ice. Tepér' zhe!” Viktor was stern, using his coaching voice. As Yuuri's shoulders slumped, he knew he had won the argument. Tucking his glove back onto his hand, he wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's waist and helped him skate to the boards. Yakov was watching with a usual disapproving stare, but only grunted when Viktor stated they were going home.

Once Yuuri slumped onto a bench, his movements became immediately lethargic and slow as he tugged on his laces. Viktor watched carefully as they prepared to go home, seeing Yuuri sway as he stood to put on his coat. Sighing as Yuuri's hands couldn't quite get his hat to fit onto his own head, he took it and tugged it snuggly into place, a gentle smile finally crossing his lips. Sick Yuuri was indeed very adorable, as though he was sleepy, with his eyelids drooping and him fighting to stay alert. He gave a gentle pinch to his cheeks as he was ready to brave the cold of St. Petersburg spring, and laced their arms together before walking out the door.

It was only a couple kilometers to their apartment, and Viktor didn't want Yuuri exerting himself any more than he had to, so he called for a cab. Once deposited into the back seat, Yuuri curled up into his side as Viktor gave their address to the driver.

"It's back to bed for you, spyashiy krasavets." Viktor said into his hair, kissing the top of his head. Yuuri only nodded, wrapping his scarf tighter around his mouth in place of a mask. They were quiet as Viktor wrapped his arm around slender shoulders, pulling him closer, resting a cheek on the soft raven hair. He watched the few blocks pass by the window, his eyes not seeing while he ran through their inventory of medicines and supplies - determining he'd need to stop by the store. But he also was needing to practice that day, with a potential sponsor coming by the rink to film him perform a routine for a sportswear commercial the next week.

The ride was blissfully short, and he helped Yuuri out of the car after paying the fare. Even the little rest that he'd had, Yuuri was already walking better, but still kept his arms wrapped firmly around the taller man's chest as they made their way to their apartment. It left a warmth spreading through Viktor's chest that had nothing to do with the fever Yuuri was suffering. As their door swung open, he parted briefly to shed his own coat and shoes.

"Vitya…" Yuuri whined as he slumped onto the chaise that sat by their door. His fingers fumbled at his coat buttons. Giving up, his hands made their way to Makkachin’s eager head, scratching behind her ears until she no longer felt betrayed by being left, no matter that it had only been an hour since seeing at least one of them.

“Yuuri-chan, why did you decide to go to practice today when you're clearly not feeling okay?" Viktor chided again, kneeling before his boyfriend to help take off his shoes and sliding his slippers in place instead. He pulled both gloves off at once as Yuuri sighed.

"It wasn't bad when I woke up. I just wanted to get a few hours in before it got worse. I was going to come home right after… but it catched up to me faster than I thought it would." Yuuri sighed, tossing his scarf to the side, and then his eyes widened as a coughing fit overtook him.

"Hmm.." Viktor hummed with disapproval as he undid the coat buttons, but still amused at Yuuri's determinate dedication, as well as his rare slip in his English. He smiled sympathetically as he pat the other's back firmly, helping him to dislodge whatever he was coughing up. Standing before him, he held out both hands. "Well, is the sick needing me to steal him off to bed?"

Yuuri looked up to catch the scandalous wink Viktor was giving him, and, if possible, his cheeks flushed even more. But then he just chuckled and took the man's hands and pulled himself up. Leaning into Viktor's space, he brought his lips right up to his ear.

"I'll be better soon and then we'll see who will be doing the stealing to bed?" he promised with a whisper, a rasp from his sudden cough making his voice sound even more seductive than he had intended. Pink dusted Viktor's nose as he pulled back. He huffed in frustration and scooped Yuuri up, with a surprised yelp as he scrambled to clutch to his shoulders.

" Now is when you decide to use Eros?" he mumbled, teasing as he strode down the hall to their bedroom. Placing Yuuri in the center, he untied Yuuri's drawstring at the top of his pants and yanked them off his beautiful legs. Fetching some fresh pajamas, he guided each leg in place and then snapped the elastic of Yuuri's underwear and kissed his hip.

"Vitya!" Yuuri cried and blushed even more, pulling his shirt down and laughing. Viktor gave him a grin as he fluffed pillows and the duvet around him, effectively cocooning his lover beneath them.

“Sleep now…" he said quietly, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat to kiss Yuuri's brow, fingers threading through his hair. "I have to go back to skate for a few hours, but I'll bring back medicine and we'll have a quiet rest of the day."

Yuuri's eyes widened as he pieced together why Viktor would still have to practice. "The sponsor!" Viktor nodded with a small smile.

"I'd love to just stay here and treat you like my Prince, but this sponsor will let us pay for a vacation in Hasetsu. How does New Year’s after Nationals sound?” he quietly explained the plan for how he wanted to use the earnings, originally intended as a surprise, but he figured the invalid could use some cheer after being manhandled away from practice. Yuuri's eyes shone with adoration and he beamed. Viktor’s chest nearly puffed up with pride at the sight. They had made the move to Russia over the break between the Japanese Nationals and New Year almost five months prior. Having barely been able to celebrate the holiday that was important to both cultures, they had declared Russian Christmas to be their official start to their year. It had been difficult to not be able to celebrate with proper traditions, for both of them. Viktor’s eyes softened as he looked at his beloved, ”Will you be okay?"

"Un- I'll be okay. I'll just sleep and be boring anyway…" Yuuri snuggled deeper into the blankets and sighed as his body finally relaxed into them. He paused and his eyes shyly found their way back up to Viktor's blues, "Vitenka… aritgatou…"

"Pozhaluysta, Yuuri-chan…” one final stroke through his hair and a kiss on his nose, and Viktor stood. He enjoyed how they had meshed their first languages together, and were coming to communicate in a way that was almost entirely their own. Making sure to close the heavy curtains to block out the sun that was beginning to never set, the room darkened considerably, and shut the door as he exited.

Viktor was comfortably sore, having begged Yakov to combine their morning and afternoon practices into one lengthy one so he could return home. It wasn’t nearly as effective, he knew, but necessary so that he’d be able to spend the rest of the day nursing his Yuuri back to health. His trip to the store had been as short as he could make it, buying everything he could possibly think of in order to get his boyfriend back to the ice that they were both so dedicated to as swiftly as possible. The bags from shopping as well as his daily skate bag weighed heavily on his arms as he fumbled for his keys.

The apartment was quiet, save for a faint echo of deep, raspy breathing. It was regular and steady, leading him to believe that Yuuri had done as he promised he would - slept through the morning and early afternoon. Makkachin’s tags jingled as she trotted over happily to greet him for the second time that day, bowing into a stretch that spoke of her just waking up to the key in the lock.

“Hey, my good girl,” Viktor said quietly to her in Russian, her tail bobbing back and forth as she arched her back and straightened her hind legs to complete the stretch. Curiously, she sniffed at the bags Viktor had dropped on the floor, the glass containers clinking together as he removed his outerwear and replaced it with a cardigan and slippers. He poked her head playfully as she turned her nose to his skate bag, as she always did, as though ensuring that he’d not met any other dogs while he’d been away. “It smells exactly the same as it does every day… Oh. I guess the pharmacy is added in?”

She snorted without looking at him, and he chuckled softly as he picked up the cloth bags he’d also picked up from the store. Just more to add to their collection, he supposed. Perhaps he had bought too much, and should have stuck to whatever would have fit in with his workout clothing and extra bandages for his always-bruised feet.

Putting away the bulk of his bounty as quietly as possible, he listened for any changes from the bedroom that was around the corner. There were none, and so he decided to start a late lunch for them both, his grumbling stomach announcing it, too, thought that to be an excellent idea. He pulled some Japanese rice from the fridge from their meal a few nights ago and put it into the rice cooker. Glad that he’d made Yuuri show him various settings that they would use for their purposes, he was able to ignore the kanji on the buttons and set it to reheat. If he knew anything about colds, he knew that comfort food from home would do best for Yuuri’s stomach as well as his anxious mind. Sighing, he wasn’t sure what else aside from rice he’d be able to offer by way of Japanese cuisine. He pulled out his phone and checked the clock, finding it was mid evening in Hasetsu. He debated for a moment before pulling up his contacts and dialing the woman he’d desperately hoped would be his sister-in-law someday soon.

“Konbanwa Viktoru-kun…” came her dry voice. He had always vaguely wondered how Mari’s voice could be so even and Yuuri’s, by contrast, had a lilt, almost a sing-song tone when he spoke Japanese. “Daijōbu?”

“Why do you always think when I call you something is not okay, Onee-san?” He grinned into the receiver, and heard her snort on the other side.

“You always call when you don’t- hmm… how to say… think if Yuuri is okay.” She clipped at him in her unique English. Sighing dramatically, he took no offense, knowing that she spoke the truth. He had called her a couple times during some of Yuuri’s worst panic attacks, especially in the first few months of him being in Russia. The most difficult thing for Yuuri to adjust to was the limit of sunlight during the winter, six hours being the maximum. It had made Yuuri depressed to not be able to go for his runs outside, the cold being far too intense to brave, even for the most stubborn Russians.

“Da,” he muttered, acquiescing to her observation, “Yuuri has a cold. I was wondering if there was something Japanese he should eat to get better soon.”

“Hai. Miso to okayu wa…” he heard Mari mumble after a pause of translating his statement in her mind. Viktor frowned. He recognized the word ‘miso’, but the other he had no inkling as to what it might be.

“English please, Mari-san.” He requested patiently.

“Un, gomen.” She continued. “Miso soup and… rice porridge. Do you know how to make?”

“Net…” he muttered, opening the fridge and studying its contents as though there would magically be the exact ingredients he would need, and he’d know what they were. Yuuri kept basic stock of Japanese food, and he desperately hoped that the requirements would be simple enough to make and he’d have everything on hand. He didn’t fancy the idea of going back out into the streets to the Asian market to sift through the shelves without Yuuri there to translate the labels. “Can you tell me how?”

“Iie… I’ll get Kaachan.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard her shuffle. Based on the muffled sound of doors sliding, it seemed she had been outside, and he could almost see her taking a smoke break in the middle of her cleaning duties in the onsen, mapping out the inn in his mind’s eye. Hearing some hurried Japanese in the distance, and the phone being passed, he grinned as a familiar warm voice came through.

“Vicchan! Yuuri is sick?” Hiroko was always one he loved speaking with, even when her tone was tinged with a motherly worry. He quickly assured her it wasn’t anything to be too concerned over, and he just needed help in making sure Yuuri got the best food possible. She giggled and thanked him for his caring for her son. When he repeated his request to know how to make miso soup and the porridge the right way, she was happy to oblige.

Almost forty-five minutes later, he was nudging the door to their bedroom open with his foot, a tray of miso soup and mors placed on it, along with a warm cloth doused in vodka. Makkachin had curled back up in the crook of Yuuri’s knees and his heart nearly melted on the spot.

One of his favorite sights was the Japanese man curled under their now shared duvet, and how well his dog had accepted Yuuri into their daily routine. It wasn’t as though he was particularly worried about Makkachin rejecting Yuuri, she had adored him while they were together in Japan. But he had wondered if there would be an adjustment for her, having Yuuri suddenly in her territory. There hadn’t been, and it was as though his kastudon had simply belonged in the apartment that had previously just been a man and his furry companion.

Setting the tray on the bedside table, he squatted next to the bed, his arms cradling his own head for a moment as he gazed at the sleeping figure. His nose was running slightly, and he sniffed in his sleep and coughed ever so slightly as he breathed through his mouth. Bangs were matted with sweat across his brow, and it seemed as though the fever was still too settled to break. Well, he was there to change that as best he could, though Viktor was loathe to wake him.

“Yuuuri-chan~” he cooed softly, loving the way his name rolled across his tongue. Placing his hand over the one that was twisted into the pillow, he ran his thumb firmly over his knuckles. “Time to wake up, spyashiy krasavets…”

Burnt cinnamon came into view slowly as Yuuri blinked out of whatever dreamland he was visiting. Viktor couldn’t help but grin at how cute he looked as he regained full consciousness, his lips revealing a heart and teeth as Yuuri smiled softly at him before he sniffed again.

“Ohayō~” he hummed lazily, his lids still heavy. Rolling slightly, he stretched his limbs against the headboard. Viktor could almost see how his toes flexed through his extended feet. He’d seen the stretch so many times, and every time was somehow even more endearing than the last.

“Dobroye utro,” Viktor couldn’t help it, he reached out and pushed the damp locks away from his forehead, raking his fingers through Yuuri’s dark hair similarly to how he helped him get ready to perform on the ice. Even not feeling well, Yuuri was lovely. “Sleep okay?”

“Slept okay…” Yuuri agreed, rolling back into his place and letting his gaze settle to meet Viktor’s. His eyebrow raised in a question as he looked to the tray that was near his head. Lifting up slightly, he gasped gently with surprise. “Miso..?”

“Da. And mors.” Viktor replied rather proudly. “I called your mom and asked how to make it.”

Yuuri looked as though he melted into the pillow, his smile gently widening as he looked at Viktor, earning another dazzling grin from the older skater. “Vitya… you’re…” Yuuri’s cheeks blushed as he hid them into the blanket.

“I’m what, Yu-chan?” Viktor practically giggled as he tugged on the thick cream colored duvet, trying to see that attractive flush again. He could hear Yuuri’s breathless laugh amidst a muffled sentence. “Yuuuri~ I can’t hear you!”

“I feel too much like a prince!” Yuuri said loudly through the covers and then promptly dove deeper. Viktor blinked and let out a genuine chuckle as he recalled his earlier silly words, kneeling up and working harder to see his lover’s face with firmer tugs on the blanket. Finally, Yuuri relented enough to let his eyes peek out over the edge, eyes shining and the hints of his blush still there on the tips of his cheeks.

“Because you are!” He insisted with a loving grin. Yuuri’s hair had been mussed again with his wriggling, and it stuck out all ways from his head. “Sit up, Vashe Vysochestvo, before your food gets cold.”

Yuuri sighed, though his smile was still in place and pushed himself up slowly. Viktor plumped the pillows behind him for better cushioning and stood to shift the tray from the table to Yuuri’s lap.

“What does that mean?”

“Vashe vysochestvo?” Viktor queried before Yuuri nodded, carefully adjusting the tray to sit better on his lap without tilting. “It means ‘your highness’ - princes were called that when the tsars ruled Russia.”

“Oh…” Yuuri breathed, his sudden shyness overtaking his ability to speak. His cheeks that had finally begun to return to his normal Asian complexion burned again and Viktor simply continued to smile. He hid them behind the glass of the steaming red drink, breathing in the steam before he took a small sip. His eyes lit up. “Vkusno!”

“I’m so glad you like it!” Viktor beamed at him. “It’s really good for when you’re sick, I made sure to make a lot for you.”

“Arigatou, Vitya…” Yuuri’s eyes crinkled from behind the glass as he took a deeper drink, slurping to cool the liquid down as he did. Viktor nodded a couple times as he watched him, and Yuuri averted his eyes, seeming to find it awkward to have a captivated audience as he drank. “What’s the washcloth for?”

“Oh!” Viktor picked it up, frowning slightly as the heat had dissipated from it far more quickly than he would have liked. Gently, he pulled Yuuri’s shoulder forward so he bent over the tray and tied the ends of the cloth around his neck like an American cowboy with a bandana. “It’s wet because I soaked it in warm vodka. It will help you breathe better.”

Yuuri was once again overcome with his shyness and he continued to drink the fruit juice, finishing it quickly.

“More?”

Yuuri thought for a moment and then nodded before he picked up the bowl of the bean broth. “Da, kudasai.”

Viktor took the glass and turned to stand up, but couldn’t take his eyes away as Yuuri lifted the bowl of soup to his lips. He was holding his breath as the sound of a soft slurp signaled a taste, he hoped desperately that it tasted alright. It had when he’d tried it to make sure it was at least edible, but he also had a terrible memory, and couldn’t remember if the miso he had made was even close to the miso Hiroko had given them in Japan. Yuuri blinked up at him, and his face molded into a gentle, loving expression.

“It’s oishii, Vitya. Thank you so much for making it for me.”

Viktor sprung up from the bed with a happy shout, Yuuri gasped in surprise, and the sudden sound made Makkachin jolt up and peer at the two men curiously as her tail began to thump against Yuuri’s leg. Leaning over, Yuuri received a kiss to his forehead for his compliment, and Viktor palmed the glass that had just held the juice.

“Anything for my Yuuri-chan. I’ll be back.”

A couple bowls of miso and three more refills of mors and Yuuri declared himself full. Viktor cleared away the dishes and came to sit next to him on their bed again, his forehead resting against Yuuri’s.

“Feeling better?” He asked softly, gauging that while Yuuri’s fever hadn’t broken, it at least wasn’t getting any higher.

“Un.” Yuuri nodded and let his eyes flutter closed upon Viktor’s soft caresses through his hair. Though his voice was still quite nasal, and his breath scratchy even with the miso, it seemed to Viktor that he was feeling a little better anyway.

Viktor propped himself up on his side of the bed as Yuuri settled his head into his lap, his hands still soothingly carding through Yuuri’s hair as he began to scroll through his phone. He quickly searched for ‘cold remedies’ and was inundated with information. Site after site he visited, finding far too many recipes that were above his understanding, until he compiled a small list of things they had on hand.

As Yuuri fell back into a light slumber, Viktor gently placed put his own pillow under Yuuri’s head. It was something they constantly did. When the other wasn’t around, they’d steal each other’s pillows to sleep, and Viktor, personally, lived for it. As he got up, he peeked at his phone dubiously, wondering if such remedies would work, but upon reading the comments, he decided that they were harmless enough to give a try.

By the time Yuuri woke up again, he was ready, and waiting in the kitchen over a cutting board as he chopped vegetables for the next day’s lunch. Yuuri stumbled into the main room, his hair was rumpled, and his cheeks still flushed.

“Yuuri-chan, do you need something?”

Yuuri blinked his blurry eyes at him and patted Makkachin absently as she poked her nose under his hand. “Mizu. Kudasai.”

“Hai~!” Viktor sang, filling a cup of water from the pitcher they kept in the fridge. He strode across the living space to Yuuri, who had, with a whump, flopped onto the couch and was snuggling under a throw blanket.

“Spasibo,” He said, accepting the cup gratefully, taking a long draught. Viktor plopped onto an overstuffed cushion next to him. As the cup left Yuuri’s lips, a makeshift necklace was thrown over his head and he stared down at the egg shaped container that served as an odd medallion. “Nani?”

“Garlic.” Viktor answered. “Sniff it.”

Yuuri eyed him warily, and lifted the egg, that had several holes punched into the top, and inhaled. Flinching and pulling back with a cough, his eyes watered. “Vitya… what?”

“It helps clear out your nose. Keep sniffing it every once in a while. Or wear it closer to your neck.” Viktor didn’t wait to be invited, he adjusted the string so the small egg was right under his chin and Yuuri couldn’t escape it even if he tried. “Remember those Kinder eggs we had? I read that you can stuff the container inside with garlic and poke holes in it and it helps.”

Yuuri smiled indulgently and continued to sniff the egg tentatively, and Viktor beamed at him. “Tea?”

“Just water is fine for now.” Yuuri said and leaned his head back against the back of the couch. A sleepy hand groped for the remote to the television and he turned it on, navigating to an anime that he’d not got around to watching on their streaming service. Viktor turned to watch too, a slight pout at his mouth, and he tugged at his lower lip.  As a multi-language theme song began to power through the speakers, Yuuri sighed with a quirked grin. “Do you want me to have the tea?”

“I mean, water is good for you too…” Viktor began slowly, his eyes sidling over to Yuuri’s.

“Vitya. I’ll have the tea.”

With a punch of a kiss to his temple, Yuuri was laughing, and Viktor sprung up to go make it. “Raspberry?”

Yuuri made a face. “Too sweet.”

“Ginger and honey?”

“Honey is sweet.”

“But it’s good for your throat.” And Yuuri sighed defeatedly. Viktor chuckled, “I’ll only put a little in.”

The steaming cup was hardly in his hands before Viktor was dashing about again. He could tell Yuuri was trying to concentrate on the animated characters screaming over a giant humanoid figure with no skin, but his eyes were following him, distracted, as Viktor kept pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the bathroom, carrying different odds and ends. Soon, he was spreading a towel beneath Yuuri’s socked feet. Jumping up again, he ran to the kitchen and returned with a basin filled with steaming water, and some spice containers under his arm.

“A… foot bath?” Yuuri asked as Viktor started removing his socks and rolling up his pajama pants above his ankles.

“Da. Sweating a fever out will help you get back to normal faster.” Viktor explained as he gently placed Yuuri’s calloused and bruised feet into the basin. Turning to the larger of the containers, he began to sprinkle the contents into the water. At Yuuri’s raised eyebrow, he smiled, “Salts. Draw out toxins.”

Yuuri quietly sat back and pulled the throw blanket tighter around his shoulders, and Viktor continued to bustle at his feet. When Viktor produced a small jar of yellow powder, he sat up again curiously.

“Mustard powder!” Viktor intimated, holding it up for inspection as he dropped a heaping spoonful into the water and swished it around.

“… Why?” Yuuri’s voice was hesitant, as if he didn’t know if he wanted the answer.

“Helps clear congestion, and adds more heat so you’ll sweat more.” Viktor grinned up at him and then gathered up the supplies and scurried back to the kitchen to put everything away. He checked a few more things for dinner, and then returned to the couch. Yuuri was flexing and stretching his toes in the basin, his hands still curled around his tea, and Viktor plopped next to him.

They watched quietly together for a little bit, both of them laughing as Makkachin curiously sniffed the basin on the floor and then recoiled at the scent of the mustard. Viktor kept an eye on his watch, and after the next episode ended, he knelt down on the floor again and dried off Yuuri’s feet. Getting him a fresh pair of socks and helping Yuuri put them on, he tucked Yuuri up on the couch and under the blanket snugly.

They watched the show until dinner time, Viktor gasping and tearing up at different moments, and Yuuri watching wide eyed, his eyes sparkling as he thought about what was happening on the screen.  He was so engrossed in the show that Yuuri had to tap his shoulder to get his attention when the rice cooker signaled it was done, and he dashed to the kitchen to prepare the rice porridge the way Hiroko had explained. He had a bowl himself, eating alongside Yuuri and chatting away about the program he was practicing and asking for advice. Then Yuuri telling him about the book he was reading, and postulating theories together as to what the future plot might entail.

Viktor loved moments like this with Yuuri, being able to simply spend time together, even if his lover was sick. They had their days off from practice, ‘rest days’ as they were called, but often they were filled with chores and running errands that had been put off during the week. It wasn’t often they were able to just lounge around and enjoy the easy companionship they’d settled into.

After dinner, Yuuri opted to take a shower, and Viktor cleaned up their dinner dishes and put the finishing touches on the bento he’d made for his fiancé. Finished in the kitchen for the moment, he stripped their bed and replaced their sheets with fresh ones just as Yuuri came in, toweling off his hair and dressed in clean pajamas.

“Arigatou.” Yuuri said quietly, giving Viktor a hug from behind. Smiling, Viktor turned in Yuuri’s arms and wrapped his own around the shorter man’s shoulders.

“Are you feeling better, my Yu-chan?” He asked, rubbing his back affectionately. Yuuri nodded.

“Much better. My nose is starting to clear up, I think.”

“Good!” Viktor enthusiastically kissed the top of Yuuri’s hair and then placed his hand around his neck and then forehead. “Seems like your fever is going down too. There’s just one more thing and I think you’ll be a lot better in the morning.”

Yuuri lifted one eyebrow up at him and shook his head with an affectionate smile. “I’m really okay, Vitya. You’ve already done so much.”

“Nonsense.” Viktor clucked his tongue against his teeth and patted Yuuri’s rear to push him toward the bed, inciting a giggle. “Get in bed and I’ll be right back.”

Viktor took his time getting himself ready for bed, allowing Yuuri to read for a little bit as he usually did before sleeping. Then it was off to the kitchen for some more ginger tea, without the honey this time, and the last remedy he’d found. Placing everything on a plate, he made his return to their bedroom and set it on Yuuri’s bedside table. The man looked from the plate and back up to Viktor.

“Potatoes?”

“For your feet.”

“My feet.” Yuuri deadpanned, completely skeptical. Viktor handed him the tea and waited until Yuuri was drinking it to sit down and pull the covers from off his lower legs. As he began tugging on Yuuri’s socks, Yuuri dug his foot into the mattress so he couldn’t have access. “Is this a Russian thing?”

“I think it’s a Chinese thing.”

“A what?”

“I don’t know, I read it on the internet.” Viktor turned and smiled at him sincerely. “You put the slices of potatoes on your feet and sleep with them there, and then it draws out the fever!”

Yuuri frowned and put his teacup back on the plate. “Vitya, I can understand the garlic in the Kinder egg thing…”

“That is a Russian thing.”

“And maybe the mustard in the foot bath thing.”

“Also a Russian thing.”

“But I don’t want potatoes in my socks all night!”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, still wiggling his fingers into Yuuri’s socks, causing him to flinch against the tickle. They both eyed the potato slices on the plate, and then looked at each other, and all at once, both were lunging for it. Yuuri to likely get rid of them, and Viktor desperate to try this new remedy. Viktor prevailed, grabbing both slices with a triumphant ‘ha!’ And Yuuri flung himself across the bed, scrambling to get away. The blankets had him all tangled however, and Viktor threw his body over Yuuri’s kicking legs, pinning him down.

He shoved a piece into one sock and nearly got kneed in the stomach when he went for the other foot. Yuuri squealed and laughed, protesting and pushing against him as Viktor was able to get the other potato in place.

“Fine!” Yuuri threw his hands up and sprawled across the bed, both of them breathing deeply and laughing at the sudden wrestling match. “I’ll keep the potatoes…”

Viktor sat up, and Yuuri did too. They grinned at each other, but Viktor’s win was short lived. Yuuri glanced at his own feet, and dove for them. The split second look had given Viktor enough time to prepare, however, and he caught Yuuri, yanking him into his chest. The pull was too hard and Viktor fell off balance, and they both tumbled onto the floor in a crashing heap. Makkachin joined the fray, barking happily and pawing at them both as Viktor fought to wrap Yuuri up completely, like tight sushi roll, in the thick duvet.

Once Yuuri was completely immobile, only his head showing over the blanket, he was forced to give up with a groan and he went limp as Viktor lay on top of him, grinning.

“I also read that if you give a kiss it can take your cold away faster.” Viktor grinned down at the face poking out of the blanket. “That’s a Japanese thing.”

“That’s just a thing used in manga to make it seem romantic.”

“Yu-chaaan~ Are you saying we’re not romantic?”

“Being sick isn’t romantic!” Yuuri mithered, hiding his blush behind his hands. Viktor tapped his fingers impatiently on Yuuri’s wrists.

“But I want to kiss you.”

Yuuri groaned, still covering his face, “Vitya…”

“Kissu, kissu!”

Yuuri peeked out from behind his hands and quickly gave Viktor a peck on his lips with a huff. “Better?”

“Not even close…”

Yuuri let out a nasally giggle as Viktor lowered his mouth to his. Softly moulding them together, he nipped at Yuuri’s lower lip playfully, coaxing another small laugh from him. They moved languidly together, Yuuri untangling his arms from the blankets Viktor had trapped him in and pulling their chests closer together. Viktor smiled into the kiss and wove his lithe fingers into the raven hair below him.

All too soon, Yuuri was pushing Viktor away, cheeks flushed and panting heavily.

“Can’t breathe… through my nose…” he sniffed as if to prove his point. Viktor beamed down at him, covering his cheeks and forehead in more kisses.

“Pardon, moy sladkiy.” Viktor chuckled and moved to kneel next to the heap that was a tumbled Yuuri in blankets. He scooped the whole bundle up in his arms, with Yuuri squealing and scrambling to hold on, and plopped him back on the bed. “Did the kiss make you feel better?”

Yuuri turned red as he nodded. “Un… but don’t blame me if you get sick, too.”

“I could never blame you, my Yu-chan.” Viktor laughed and straightened out the blankets so their bed resembled something closer to a sleep space rather than a pile of neglected laundry. “I will take full responsibility if I catch your cold. I’d want to have it if it means you get better, anyway.”

That earned a snort from Yuuri. Viktor grinned and poked his cheek as he settled into his side of the bed, arm extended as an invitation to cuddle. Yuuri took him up on it, and soon after, Viktor was turning out the light. They both gave small wiggles and twists until their bodies fit together naturally and the covers settled in nicely, only to have Makkachin ruin it all by jumping up and taking her place below their feet.

“Ya tebya obozhayu, moy Yuuri-chan.” Viktor hummed sleepily into Yuuri’s hairline, who squeezed his chest back in response.

“Ore no Vitenka wa daisuki.” Yuuri mumbled back into Viktor’s chest, perfectly content even with the strange feeling of a vegetable in his socks. But he had to ask anyway, “Can I take the potatoes out?”

“Net.”

Yuuri’s cold didn’t last much longer after his sick day, the worst of it over by the next morning and Viktor had allowed him back on the ice. Though he still was rather dubious about the potatoes being any sort of help, he was very grateful that Viktor had gone through all the trouble to ensure he was able to get back on the ice as soon as possible. Something of the ridiculous remedies had obviously worked, though the Japanese in him said it was likely the good rest and healthy food. So when Viktor came down with the same cold, that was exactly what he ensured Viktor got.

“Vitya, it’s time to get up.” Yuuri said gently two days later, a tray of mors and okayu in his hands. Viktor had, of course, needlessly made enough of the fruity drink to last them a month, a gesture for which Yuuri was currently grateful. He hadn’t the slightest idea on how to make it, and was sure if he had given an attempt it would have turned out far too bitter for his lover’s sweet tooth. “I have your dinner."

All that he could see was a lump in the form of his fiancé under the duvet. The lump squirmed and a muffled groan came from beneath the blankets that sounded suspiciously like ‘I don’t want to’. Yuuri frowned and placed the tray on the bedside table with a loud clatter.

Kneeling beside the bed, he tugged on the blankets only to hear a squawk of protest and the cloth pulled away from his prying hands.

“Vitya…” Yuuri cooed gently, “If you come out, I’ll give you a kiss to help you get better.”

There was a dramatic sniff and a small, “Promise?” that came from under the heap. Yuuri fought the good natured roll of his eyes as best he could. Really, he did, but eventually the urge won out.

“Hai~, I promise.”

Viktor began to wriggle and soon his head popped out of the covers, hair mussed and sticking up in odd ways that made Yuuri bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the sight.

“But what if you get sick again?” Viktor’s red-rimmed eyes were puffy and his nose was swollen pink from sniffling and wiping it too many times with the tissues clutched in his hand. He looked pathetic, and Yuuri thought it was absolutely adorable.

“I’ve already had it, so I won’t catch it again.” Yuuri insisted, and leaned forward. Smoothing the rumpled hair atop his lover’s head, he placed a kiss on Viktor’s forehead, who hummed in appreciation. It wasn’t just to be affectionate, however, and Yuuri could feel the fever still hadn’t gone down.

“That’s nice… but I thought it would be more of a kiss than that.” Viktor pouted up, and Yuuri laughed at the way his bottom lip stuck out, which had the effect of the pout deepening.

“I wasn’t finished yet.” Yuuri teased and held Viktor’s cheeks between his hands, gently kissing away his frown with several tender kisses in succession. Viktor’s arms shot out of the blankets and coiled around him like an octopus and yanked him into bed. Laughing against his lips, Yuuri struggled momentarily until the kiss heated. Viktor’s slow and deliberate movements against him made him melt as they always did. Viktor had always been an excellent kisser.

When they parted, Viktor stole a few more little pecks along his jaw and then released his vice grip so Yuuri could set himself to rights.

“Mmm, I feel better already.” Viktor teased as Yuuri placed the tray in his lap and fluffed the pillows behind his back. That comment brought out a blush on Yuuri’s cheeks, and he smoothed the duvet to distract himself.

“J-just eat, Vitya.” He mumbled, and Viktor giggled, earning an indignant huff from Yuuri. Once Viktor was eating happily, the first bites punctuated with his usual ‘vkusno!’, Yuuri set about the room sorting out laundry and tidying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Viktor sneaking bites of his dinner to a less-than-subtle Makkachin, who was thumping her tail enthusiastically at the rare treat of human food. Yuuri was silently relieved he’d left out the green onions, and decided to let the indulgence slide.

Yuuri got ready for bed and by the time he was finished, so was Viktor. He removed the dirty dishes and went to clean up the kitchen while Viktor brushed his own teeth and performed his, very lengthly, skin routine. When he returned to the bedroom, Viktor was already snuggled up in bed, hugging Yuuri’s pillow tightly to his chest, sniffing miserably. Yuuri had just one more thing to prepare and so he popped back into the bathroom and returned with a packet.

“Vitya, don’t fall asleep yet, I need to do one more thing for you.” Yuuri chided as he climbed into bed. He tugged his pillow away from Viktor’s grasp, placing it back in its rightful spot.

“No potatoes.” Viktor mumbled, opening one wary eye. And Yuuri fought back a roll of his eyes, successfully this time, and smiled indulgently instead.

“No potatoes.” He promised. “I picked these up at the Asian market on my way home from practice. Sit up.”

Viktor pushed himself up and Yuuri tore open the packet, removing a cooling gel pad. He brushed Viktor’s hair away from his forehead and put the patch in place, giving a quick peck to his cheek.

“These are best for a fever. Not vegetables stuffed into your socks.”

Viktor chuckled as he laid back down, stifling a yawn. “We’ll have to agree to disagree…” 

Yuuri laughed and settled under the blankets himself, pulling a book he was working his way through from his side table. Viktor curled up into his chest, hugging his waist tightly, and Yuuri rolled and slung his arm around the other man’s shoulders, holding his book aloft in one hand to read as Viktor fell asleep.

“Oyasumi, schast'ye moye.” Viktor sighed contentedly against him.

“Dobroy nochi, ore no itoshii.” Yuuri said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Viktor’s hair, and then tapped his whorl, as he did often now, as a signal of when his fiancé was being over the top. With a scoffing grin, he muttered, “You’re ridiculous. ‘No potatoes…’”

“But you love me.”

“I do.”