From Russia with Love - Yuri!!! on Ice (Viktor) [2/6]

[AdrianMarx]

Here is the young!Viktor fic that nobody asked for. He's like 18/19 in this (because I wanted to write him with long hair okay?) and heading to the Worlds. 

 

---

 

Nobody worth their salt in the figure skating world would call the World Championships anything other than a big deal and Yakov Feltsman wasn’t Russia’s top figure skating coach for nothing. He knew better than his students what the Worlds meant and he knew that eighteen-year-old Viktor Nikiforov had an excellent chance of bringing back gold. However, the Worlds were tough and skaters who competed there needed to be tough too, both in mind and body. Viktor Nikiforov was certainly both of those things but apparently his immune system hadn’t received word that he would be competing at the Worlds in three days time and had decided it was high time to bring Viktor to his knees with a miserable cold, quite literally.

 

Yakov didn’t pry into his students’ home lives but he knew enough of Viktor’s to gauge that he wasn’t used to being cared for so perhaps it was no surprise that Yakov didn’t realise his student was sick until he came hurtling out of his Bielmann spin, landing unceremoniously on his knees. Too stunned at first to speak - unusual for Yakov in itself - he merely watched while his star student’s arms wobbled precariously as he tried to push himself to his feet.

 

Finding his voice again, Yakov yelled, “Vitya!” and was placated when he saw his student’s sheepish wince at the anger lacing just that one word.

 

Head bowed, Viktor made his way over to Yakov, slowing into a T-stop and risking a glance up only when he reached the barrier. He immediately swallowed a witty remark when he saw the fire in his coach’s eyes. Yakov jerked his hand forward, placing the back of his fingers roughly against Viktor’s forehead and letting out a gruff sigh.

 

“Off,” he growled, jerking his head to the bench behind him and Viktor obeyed without a word of protest which was worrying in itself. Yakov closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. That boy was going to be the death of him. “Georgi! Warm up!” He snapped, glancing over to where his second student was stretching across the rink before turning the full force of his glare on Viktor.

 

The effect was lost, however, because Viktor had his head in his hands, long silver hair pulled out of its usual ponytail and falling across his face. With a final sigh, Yakov came to crouch in front of his student.

 

“Vitya,” he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral as his young student lifted his face to look Yakov in the eye. What he saw didn’t surprise him. Up close, Viktor’s lack of sleep was obvious in the dark rings around his eyes, his cold obvious in his chapped red nose and the soft thrum of congestion in his breathing. Yakov remembered Viktor complaining - loudly and obnoxiously - of a headache the day before but the rate at which it had progressed to leave him in this state was both worrying and impressive.

 

“I’m sorry,” Viktor muttered, voice quiet and raspy from coughing. “I- I thought-”

 

“No, you didn’t think! That’s the problem, Vitya!” Yakov growled, making Viktor fall silent. He lifted a hand to swipe at his nose, sniffling as he rubbed at the itch, blinking back tears of utter exhaustion. Yakov’s frown deepened. “The Worlds are in three days. You didn’t think perhaps it would be wise to inform your coach of this so we can take appropriate measures? Do you want to compete in the Worlds or don’t you?”

 

Viktor’s eyes hardened. “I do!”

 

“Then you have to start using your head,” Yakov said firmly, scowl still in place. “What good will you be if you injure yourself because of a fever?”

 

Viktor had the good grace to look sheepish but it didn’t last long before he turned away to muffle several violent sneezes into the crook of his elbow.

 

etsCHHU! tisCHHoo! ihhtischhOO!

 

“Bless you,” Yakov murmured automatically, whipping out his own clean white handkerchief and handing it to Viktor whose cheeks had flushed red with embarrassment.

 

While the young skater mopped himself up, Yakov allowed himself a rare moment of sympathy. He understood the pressure Viktor was under, even if he hadn’t felt it himself in decades. The World Championships were the most prestigious event in international figure skating and Viktor was favoured to win gold at the grand old age of just eighteen. Viktor had talent, that couldn’t be denied. He also had discipline and dedication and inspiration. What he lacked, though it came as a shock to most, was confidence. Not confidence in himself as a skater, exactly; but he did have a tendency to be too hard on himself, to push himself too hard, to strive for too much.

 

Viktor clamped the handkerchief over his mouth as he let out a chesty cough which seemed to wrench his breath from him with every convulsion. Arms folded, Yakov straightened and turned his back on Viktor to watch Georgi’s warm up.

 

“Skates off. Get some rest,” Yakov grunted, hearing the strangled gasp from behind and having to physically stop himself from wincing at just how sick Viktor sounded when he descended into another crackling cough. “If I see you here again today, I’ll pull you from the Worlds. Understood?”

 

The silence that greeted him from behind was broken by a quiet murmur of what could have been agreement but could also have been a curse before he heard the sound of Viktor’s retreating blades against the carpet.

 

Yakov scowled to himself. That boy needed to learn to look after himself or he was going to be forcibly retired by the time he was twenty one and that, for both Viktor’s young talent and the figure skating world at large, would be a crying shame.

Edited January 7, 2017 by AdrianMarx

[bazzpop00]

I just wanna hug Viktor so bad right now, you made him look so precious! Hope you plan on continuing ^^

[AdrianMarx]

Just now, bazzpop00 said:

I just wanna hug Viktor so bad right now, you made him look so precious! Hope you plan on continuing ^^

I do! Worry not! (I also wanna hug him but don't worry!! He will get some puppy cuddles soon!)

[Spoo]

Poor Victorrrrr. ;____; He was so pretty with his long hair, and I really wonder why he cut it off (ready for a change? a symbol for his transition from teenage to adult? a breakdown where he cut it all off himself??). This is a great fic so far and I can't wait to read more! The poor baby.  

[LeapYearKisses]

Ah, such a wonderful start!  I really love that you have Yakov filling a fatherly role here.  Yakov is so grumpy and rude to Victor in the show that I just love when people point out and build on his caring side as a coach.  Can't wait to see where you go with it!  (Long-haired Victor is amazing~)

[Kushami Suki Da!]

This is a really good start!! Long-haired Victor is great, of course. Plus getting sick just before Worlds sounds terrible (thus it's perfect). "When you love someone, make them suffer," or something like that, right? Haha anyway, great job. I'm looking forward to the next part. 

[groundcontrol]

I do hope there's more coming on this, it's fantastic!  

[AdrianMarx]

@Spoo my angst monster of a brain wants it to be something HORRIBLE but i imagine it was probably a ~symbolic~ thing because viktor is a drama queen let's be real

@LeapYearKisses i love caring!Yakov too eeeee when Viktor told Yuuri to hug him if he needed too my heart just flipped a little

@Kushami Suki Da! thank you ee! yes his long hair is wonderful and i love it

@groundcontrol there is indeed!

---

It took Viktor several tries to fit the key in the lock. His hands trembled with both exhaustion and frustration. He wanted to skate. He needed to skate if he didn’t want to make a complete fool of himself at the Worlds. Stupid Yakov. Viktor threw his keys onto the coffee table in frustration and dumped his skate bag on the floor before throwing himself onto the couch, another painful cough tearing through his lungs until there were tears trickling down his cheeks.

A soft snuffling from by his ankles made him smile and he looked down to find his aging poodle sniffing at his legs, whining and pawing at his knee. Anya had been his birthday present when he was five years old. They’d grown up together and Viktor loved her dearly. She was getting on in years now and, if there was one thing he regretted, it was that skating took him away from her so often. Still, if he was going to be on forced rest, at least he’d get to spend time with her. He patted the space on the couch beside him and Anya happily leapt up to curl up with her head nestled in his lap.

“Good girl,” Viktor muttered breathlessly, chest tightening uncomfortably even after the coughing. He scratched absently behind her ears as he settled back on the cushions and let his eyes fall shut of their own accord.

Truly, he felt dreadful. After mere minutes, he settled into a soft snuffling pattern of snores, drifting off with his dog in his lap and still wearing his slightly sweaty practice clothes.

He woke to a fit of violent shivers, Anya asleep in his lap. Despite how cold he was, he didn’t have the heart to move her. Swiping at his runny nose with the back of his hand, Viktor gently stroked her floppy brown ears, marvelling in his slight state of fever at how soft she was. Had she always been this soft?

Viktor felt his breath hitch before he even felt the tickle and groaned quietly. He’d only been sneezing since last night and he was already completely fed up with it, especially because sneezing often led to coughing and coughing often led to wheezing and he just wanted to be better already.

hh’ENGnnchhz!

The force of it left him breathless but, miraculously, it didn’t trigger a cough. It did, however, wake Anya who blinked up at him with bleary eyes while he wiped his nose on his sleeve. However, it soon became clear that this wasn’t going to cut it and he kept his sleeved wrist pressed firmly to his nose while he got up to pluck a tissue from his poodle plushie box which he’d left in the kitchen after breakfast that morning. When he’d emptied his nose, Viktor felt more congested than before and every exhale seemed to be accompanied by a stuffy guh sound.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it - and would absolutely never admit it out loud, even if tortured - Yakov was right. He needed to get better if he was going to win at the Worlds. And he was going to win. Cold or no cold he was going to be the world champion damn it.

“You believe in me, don’t you, Anya?” He asked throatily of the dog who had dutifully followed at his heels. She growled fondly in approval and Viktor chuckled, bending down to give her a pat but had to immediately clamp his damp tissue to his nose when it suddenly and without warning started running like a tap. He sniffed thickly, feeling a bolt of congestion shoot up between his eyes and let out another soft groan.

Being sick was the worst. He really didn’t have ti-

hhh’ZZNGihshhoo! heh...oh...hh’IHHZKHuhh!

Abandoning his tissue on the kitchen counter, he grabbed a fresh handful and buried his nose in them to catch the next one.

ihh’IHKICHhoo!

Anya whined by his feet which Viktor took to mean ‘bless you’ and offered her a watery smile which she couldn’t see behind his mass of tissues anyway. Viktor massaged his itchy nose through the tissues, sniffling wetly. And here came the coughs, predictable as always. He had to put one hand on the counter to steady himself while he hacked, giving his nose a harsh blow at the end of it and discarding his tissues next to the other used one with a look of pitiful disgust.

“Sorry, Anya,” he wheezed. “No walk today. Papa can’t breathe.”

Anya nuzzled her head against his leg, still whining, which made Viktor smile. She was a good girl. Taking the tissue box with him, Viktor settled himself on the couch again, kicking his shoes off (which he’d only just noticed were still on his feet) and stretching his legs out along the sofa, back propped up against the cushions. Anya needed no invitation this time and settled herself across Viktor’s stomach and legs happily.

A shiver rushed through him again and Viktor wished he’d remembered to grab a blanket. He wrapped his hair around his neck as a makeshift scarf which was horribly itchy but he'd take what he could get. He should really have gotten changed. Oh, but he just sat down.

Five minutes, he thought to himself. Five minutes and then I’ll get up.

But the five minutes came and went several times and Viktor found himself shivering and coughing and sneezing and feeling so incredibly dizzy that he didn’t think he had the strength to even nudge Anya off to the side let alone get up and do things like put on pyjamas or get a glass of water.

“Anya,” he whined, dragging out the final ‘a’ in her name. “I feel so awful.”

Anya responded by climbing further up his body to rest her head on his chest. The weight felt nice despite the tightness which already lurked there. Somehow, this was better. Viktor was too exhausted to lift his arms to stroke her so he simply breathed, “my good girl” and closed his eyes again. He didn’t sleep. Just shivered and sniffled and created a pile of crumpled tissues on the floor while others remained scattered around on the couch. If his fans could see him now…

“What kind of world champion can’t even take care of a cold on his own?” Viktor asked Anya, breathing shallowly to prevent a fit. He cleared his throat, wincing when it induced a sharp throb of pain. “I’m pathetic, huh?”

Anya whined. Viktor whined back teasingly though it was a pretty accurate depiction of his mood all the same.

This was ridiculous. If he was going to get better, he needed to start taking care of himself properly. Orange juice was good for colds, right? Did he have any? Viktor nearly scoffed at the thought. He barely ever had any food in the flat since he spent so little time there. Yakov’s skaters tended to eat together since they all had set meal plans. Besides, Viktor was a fairly terrible cook.

So, no orange juice. Soup. His mother had made him soup when he was sick once. Clearly he was going to have to go shopping. Or, alternatively, he could stick pins in his eyes and wait for death.

Yeah. That sounded good.

Edited January 7, 2017 by AdrianMarx

[lilysneeze]

6 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

Anya whined. Viktor whined back teasingly though it was a pretty accurate depiction of his mood all the same.

This is so adorable!

The whole thing is really, but this one made me chuckle.

[Jaxx]

This is amazing. Please keep going! Agh I keep checking almost every day to see what's gonna happen to poor sick Viktor! 

[valemari2012]

On 28/1/2017 at 11:32 PM, Jaxx said:

 

[valemari2012]

Damn, eh, uh, I just wanted to say "keep with this please, i'm doing the same like jaxx! Keep with this little victor~!

[tarotgal]

I know it's been a while since you posted this, but I only just read it and wanted to leave a quick comment. Awwwwwwwwwwwww! Victor is so adorable, thinking he'll be fine practicing with a cold that bad. And then leaving little piles of tissues in his wake at home. 

 

On 12/6/2016 at 8:57 PM, AdrianMarx said:

 

Viktor clamped the handkerchief over his mouth as he let out a chesty cough which seemed to wrench his breath from him with every convulsion. Arms folded, Yakov straightened and turned his back on Viktor to watch Georgi’s warm up.

 

“Skates off. Get some rest,” Yakov grunted, hearing the strangled gasp from behind and having to physically stop himself from wincing at just how sick Viktor sounded when he descended into another crackling cough. “If I see you here again today, I’ll pull you from the Worlds. Understood?”

That's just about the only thing that's going to make Victor stop and get some rest. I love your description of Victor here especially. And Yakov evaluating his skater like this is perfect.

 

On 1/6/2017 at 10:05 PM, AdrianMarx said:

“Sorry, Anya,” he wheezed. “No walk today. Papa can’t breathe.”

Awwww, Victor! I wish Anya could go get him orange juice. 

[lsbn]

OMG I hope you plan on continuing...this was very cute ❤️