Chapter Text
The rain poured heavily. Thick dark clouds were hanging low over the streets of Saint Petersburg. And the road outside was covered in grey, rivulets of water streaming down the tarmac. Yuri leaned against the window. He listened to the pounding of the raindrops against the glass, while thunder rumbled far away.
Shapka meowed, and Yuri looked down into his lap. She was sprawled across his hoodie, shedding fur over the red fabric. It had used to be Jean’s but Yuri had appropriated it back when they had just started dating. It fit him better now, but his fingers still barely peeked out of the cuffs. The cat kept demanding his attention and Yuri curled his fingers into her fur, stroking her. Purring loudly she began digging her claws into his thigh. He swore out loud, struggling not to jostle his leg.
He had taken an ugly fall at the rink the previous week, and the cast they had put on his broken ankle had erased any hope of competing at Worlds this season.
It was just fucking splendid. And on top of that it hurt like a bitch.
When he had called Jean to give him the news the idiot had almost flown straight to Saint Petersburg. It had taken Yuri yelling at him for ten straight minutes on the phone before the moron had decided not to drop out of the Four Continents just to come and coddle Yuri. Who didn’t need any coddling, thank you very much.
It was not the first broken bone of his career, and while it sucked not being able to compete, it was not the end of the fucking world. He only hoped he would be able to fly to Japan for the Worlds. He hadn’t seen Jean since the Canadian Nationals, when Yuri had taken a flight to Ottawa to watch him skate. He had managed to get a whole week off practice, fighting with an outraged Yakov who had claimed it was irresponsible to waste a week of training when he had the Europeans coming.
After that it had been impossible to see each other, between Euros and the Four Continents, and Yuri had been looking forward to the World Championship. And not only to snatch the gold back from Jean who had won the year before. He missed him with a longing that had etched itself into his very bones, fractured and whole alike. After two years of stealing moments it had grown heavier and heavier to say goodbye each time.
Jean had been on the verge of moving to Russia more than once, but Yuri had stopped him each time. For all that he wanted nothing more than having him there all the time, Yuri knew Jean had been coached by his parents throughout his whole career. It would be wrong to ask of him to change coach and risk getting poorer results while he adjusted.
His bed was cold and he lived for the moments they managed to snatch with one another, but skating was more important. They only had a small number of years left to compete. And the rest of their lives to make compromises.
He sighed, thinking the quad flip he had flubbed and that had made him end up with a fractured ankle. The only silver lining was that it had happened at the end of the season. With a bit of luck and Yuri’s stubbornness he was going to skate next season.
Still, it sucked being stuck in his apartment when he could be training, perfecting his routines, instead of spending his birthday sitting on his windowsill with a cast on his leg and an empty stomach.
Yuri scowled, knowing he should do something about the latter. Which meant moving. He had eaten the last leftovers of the bento Katsudon had made for him the day before, and unless he ordered a pizza or something, he would have to cook.
He guessed he only had himself to blame for that. His Grandfather had offered to come to Saint Petersburg to take care of Yuri, but he had refused. He may have a cast on his leg, but it didn’t mean he needed help. Or at least, that was what his pride had told him. Because, the truth was it was not easy doing chores with a pair of crutches, especially when he was supposed to rest if he wanted the bones to heal properly. And he did. His whole career depended upon that.
Gently he nudged Shapka off his lap and the cat jumped to the floor with a displeased meow. Yuri took his crutches, and got up from the windowsill. He had a small studio apartment, but it still took him a lot of time to reach the kitchenette, and open the fridge, glaring at it. Huffing in frustration he set to work in the grey light of the rainy afternoon.
An hour dragged between pots and pans, and Yuri cursing colourfully in more than one language, but he managed to whip up a semi-decent borscht . He ate it in the utter silence of his apartment, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg.
There were still dishes to be done, but one look at the disaster zone that was his kitchen at the moment, made him sigh in annoyance. There was no fucking way he was spending another hour standing in front of the sink. He should have gotten a dishwasher when Mila had suggested it months ago, when he had moved into his apartment. But he had not bought one just to spite her.
This was apparently turning out to be a day of listing the many life choices Yuri regretted.
He scowled, grabbing his crutches and plopping down on the couch. He needed to rest. Especially since he had no fucking doubt the hag and the annoying couple would come and pester him after they were done at the rink. They had done so every year Yuri had been about to spend his birthday alone. He had stopped being annoyed at them a couple of years ago, begrudgingly accepting the inevitability of it all.
It was going to be tiresome, though. Mila was always a bundle of energy and Victor and Katsudon were gross on their best days. Yuri needed to mentally prepare himself for it. Or he would end up biting someone’s head off. Not that he particularly cared, but it would only fuel Mila’s teasing, which would in turn fuel his irritation, until Yuri snapped.
It was better to avoid that trainwreck.
He curled on the sofa, pulling a throw blanket over his legs. And closed his eyes. He had just begun dozing off when someone rang the doorbell. His eyes snapped open and he frowned. There was no way in hell Yakov had let his teammates earlier from practice. So who the fuck was that?
The doorbell rang once again and Yuri cursed out loud, grabbing his crutches.
The door was not far from the couch and it took him no time to unlock the door and yank it open, an array of colourful curses on the tip of his tongue.
Yuri opened his mouth only to snap it shut.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, flabbergasted.
“It’s nice to see you too, Yuri.” Jean replied with a wide grin, and a twinkle in his blue eyes. His hair was sticking in wet tendrils on his forehead and his jacket was completely drenched.
“Happy birthday.” he told him, and Yuri blinked twice.
And then he was throwing his arms around the idiot, dropping his crutches on the floor and kissing him with everything he had. With all the longing and the lonely nights, with all the times he had told him not to come here, because they would have time, they would have time. Skating mattered. They would have the rest of their lives to spend together. But as he deepened the kiss, all Yuri could think was that it was good to have him here, to be able to wrap his arms around his neck and hold him tight.
Slowly the broke apart, and Yuri held onto Jean’s shoulders for support.
“I can’t believe it you’re here” he told him almost breathless “Aren’t you supposed to train for Worlds.”
“If you think I’m letting you spend your birthday alone and hurt, you really don’t know me.” Jean told him, cocking an eyebrow, as they made their way into the apartment “I should have gotten here last week.”
“No you shouldn’t.” Yuri retorted while Jean helped him to the sofa, gently putting a pillow under his cast “Who would have kicked Katsudon’s ass in Boston?”
“Yuri. I don’t care, okay.” he told him, sitting next to him on the sofa, and brushing Yuri’s hair behind his ear “I only competed because it would have upset you even more if I hadn’t. But I’m not leaving this apartment until they get that cast off your leg.”
Yuri opened his mouth to protest, but Jean didn’t give a chance to
“I made arrangements with your coach. I’ll be training here until Worlds.” he said and Yuri wanted to tell him it was stupid, that he didn’t need Jean to nurse him. But hadn’t he already made a hefty list of moronic life choices he had made?
“Fine.” he said, pressing his lips against Jean’s, only to pull back with a smirk “If you’re so keen on helping me you can start by doing the dishes.”
“I’m going to regret this?” Jean asked teasingly and Yuri’s smirk turned into a chuckle.
“Yep”