Chapter Text
Yuri Plisetsky was many things: Olympic champion, cat enthusiast, reluctant role model, and the only teenager on earth who could terrify a grown man simply by raising an eyebrow. But he was not—he repeat, NOT—a babysitter. Which made it deeply unfair that he was currently sitting in a sterile hospital waiting room while two idiots he unfortunately loved were in surgery. Well… one idiot. The other was pacing holes into the linoleum. “Yuri,” Katsuki Yuuri said for the twentieth time in five minutes, “do you think he’s okay?” Yurio lowered his phone just far enough to glare. “It’s surgery. They literally said it’s a fifteen-minute procedure. Stop acting like they’re installing a bionic arm.” Yuuri wrung his hands so hard his wedding ring clicked nervously against itself. “It’s anesthesia. Victor’s never had anesthesia. What if he—” “He won’t,” Yurio snapped. Then, with less bite, “Old man’s too stubborn to die.” Yuuri didn’t find this comforting, but he tried to smile anyway. “Right… right.” Yurio scoffed and opened his recording app. “I’m documenting this whole thing. If he comes out of there whining and dramatic—and you know he will—I want it on film.” “You are not posting Victor’s post-anesthesia video online.” “I’m not,” Yurio said innocently. “But blackmail material? Priceless.” Before Yuuri could argue, a nurse pushed through the swinging doors. “Family of Victor Nikiforov?” Both Yuuri and Yurio stood. Yuuri almost tripped over the chair leg. “He’s waking up now,” the nurse said with a warm smile. “Everything went perfectly. You can come sit with him while the anesthesia wears off.” Yuuri nearly sagged with relief. Yurio pretended he didn’t. “Come on,” Yurio muttered. “Let’s go see your disaster husband.”
Victor Nikiforov was, in most situations, perfect. Perfect on the ice. Perfect at charming entire continents. Perfect at making marriage look like a competitive sport in which he fully intended to win gold every day. Right now, though? He looked like a confused, sleepy cat who had just been booted from a sunbeam. Yuuri’s heart melted instantly. Victor blinked up at them from the hospital bed, eyelids heavy, pupils wide, face wrapped in a warm post-anesthesia haze. His silver hair was a floofed halo on the pillow. The IV made him look fragile. The goofy smile made him look younger. “Yuuri…” he whispered dreamily. “Hi, Victor,” Yuuri said softly, taking the chair beside him. “You’re okay. Everything went well.” Victor stared at him. Stared. As if the concept of Yuuri Katsuki had just been invented and he was the first to witness it. Then he gasped. Not a subtle gasp. A theatrical, full-chest, opera-worthy gasp of pure revelation. “YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL,” Victor declared at full volume. Yuuri froze. The nurse outside laughed. Yurio began recording. “Victor—” Yuuri started. “No, no, no.” Victor reached out blindly, patting the air until Yuuri caught his hand. “Listen. Listen to me. I don’t know who you are—” Yuuri’s soul momentarily left his body. “—but you’re the most beautiful man alive.” Yuuri’s soul re-entered only to spontaneously combust. Yurio choked. “Oh my god, he forgot you. This is incredible.” Victor wasn’t done. He squeezed Yuuri’s hand with dramatic desperation. “Are you an angel? Did heaven send you? Did I finally die performing a quadruple axel in my sleep?” “You didn’t die,” Yurio said, biting back laughter. “You had a mole removed.” Victor blinked slowly. “A mole?” “Mm-hm,” Yurio said. “On your side,” Yuuri added gently. Victor touched his side, winced at the soreness, then looked back at Yuuri with soggy, emotional devotion. “Are you my doctor?” he whispered reverently. “No,” Yuuri said. “My nurse?” “No.” “My physical therapist? My guardian spirit? My forbidden love?” Yuuri flushed scarlet. “Victor, it’s me.” Victor’s eyes filled with tears. “You KNOW my name.” “Oh my god,” Yurio whispered. “This is better than Worlds.”
Victor tugged Yuuri closer with the strength of a sleepy toddler. “You’re so beautiful. Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful? You’re like… you’re like if a cinnamon roll turned into a person and decided to ruin my life.” Yurio’s phone trembled from suppressed laughter. Yuuri hid his face in his hands. “Victor, please—” “No, really,” Victor insisted. “It should be illegal. I should be arrested. I’m calling the police.” He tried to reach for his phone. Yuuri quickly stopped him. “Victor, calm down—” “Marry me,” Victor said suddenly. Yuuri blinked. “We are married.” Victor gasped again. “We’re WHAT?” “Married,” Yuuri repeated, trying not to smile too hard. Victor grabbed his hand and stared at the ring with stunned awe. “You mean… you said yes?” Yuuri nodded. “You asked. I said yes.” Victor burst into tears. Huge, ridiculous, wobbly tears. “I must have been SO HAPPY!” he wailed. Yurio was wheezing. “He’s not wrong.” “Victor,” Yuuri murmured, stroking his hand, “I love you.” Victor made a sound like a dying whale. “HE LOVES ME BACK?!” Yuuri leaned over, pressing a kiss to Victor’s forehead. “Always.” Victor melted into the pillows, trembling with joy. “I’m going to faint. Catch me.” “You’re already lying down, dumbass,” Yurio said. Victor narrowed his eyes at Yurio, recognition flickering. “You look familiar. Are you our son?” Yurio recoiled violently. “ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Victor squinted harder. “But you have the hair.” “What hair?!” “The angry hair,” Victor said confidently. Yuuri choked on a laugh. “Victor, that’s Yurio.” Victor gasped yet again. “Yuri… TWO?!” Yurio buried his face in his hoodie. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving the country. I’m changing my name.” But he didn’t leave. He kept filming. Of course he did.
Victor suddenly grabbed the guard rail of the bed and hauled himself upright with the chaotic determination of a man with absolutely no motor control. “Victor, lie down—” Yuuri started. Too late. Victor puffed out his chest and shouted at maximum volume “ATTENTION, HOSPITAL! I AM MARRIED TO THIS BEAUTIFUL MAN! HE IS MY HUSBAND! MINE!"'Down the hallway, someone cheered. Yuuri covered his face with both hands. Yurio recorded it in 4K with cinematic stabilization. Victor collapsed back into the pillows, panting triumphantly. “Everyone needs to know,” he mumbled, grabbing Yuuri’s shirt. “You’re perfect.” Yuuri kissed his knuckles, heart swelling. “You’re going to be so embarrassed later.” “No,” Victor slurred. “I will be proud.” He wasn’t. But that came later. For now, he gazed up at Yuuri like he had discovered the meaning of life and it had dimples. “Stay with me,” he whispered. Yuuri squeezed his hand. “Always.” Victor smiled, soft and childlike, eyes drifting closed. Yurio sniffed. “Ugh. Gross.” But he tucked his phone away… carefully.