When Yuri came to he was alone in the hospital room. His eyes were puffy and his throat hurt. He swallowed, wincing and putting a hand to his neck. There was a quick knock at the door. The same nurse from earlier walked in. "You're awake, that's good. How are you feeling?" Yuri rubbed his throat, shaking his head lightly. "Your throat is going to be sore for while. Can I get you anything? Ice chips? Juice?" Yuri shook his head again looking around the room. It was too quiet. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, Yuri looked at the empty chairs gathered around his bed. "Your friends are around here somewhere," the nurse walked over to check his blood pressure, Yuri sighed glancing at the door. "The doctor was in here earlier, you've been cleared for discharge. Your father is filling out discharge papers now."

"He's not my dad! Yakov's my coach," Yuri spat. His voice was no louder than a whisper, but it was soaked in venom.

"Oh… that's right you're a figure skater, aren't you? You mentioned something about that a while ago…" she trailed off, writing on the patient chart. "Well if you need anything just press the call button." She left with a sappy grin.

Yuri laid with his hands behind his head. The quietness was beginning to wear on him. Just then the door burst open.

"Yurio were back!" Victor sang. He was carrying a small brightly-colored bag. Yuri rolled his eyes. Sitting up he crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you feeling better?" Victor asked, plopping down in one of the empty chairs. Yuuri followed him in, sitting down quietly.

"When can I go?" Yuri rasped.

"Soon, soon," Victor said, waving his hand, "in the meantime," he set the paper bag on the bed. "Yuuri and I stopped at the gift shop and got this for you."

"Go on, open it," Yuuri said. Yuri pulled the gift onto his lap. He plucked the blue tissue paper out of the bag. His fingertips brushed something soft. His hand closed around the small object. He held it close examining a cat stuffed animal. It was a light gray color with white cheeks and a pink nose. Yuri trailed his hand across its fur.

"Cute isn't it?" Victor asked. Yuri shrugged, he hated to admit it but it was a nice gesture. The glassy blue eyes, plush tail, and… wait.

"Why is it missing a foot?" Yuri choked out, clearing his throat with a wince.

"It's more relatable that way. You two can struggle together," victor said. Yuuri looked down cringing.

"What are you talking about?" Yuri ground out. He rubbed his neck, the scratchy discomfort intensifying.

"You don't remember?" Yuuri asked eyes squinted with embarrassment.

"Remember what?"

"The horror! The pain! Champion figure skater Yuri Plisetsky, hopes and dreams shattered!" Victor draped himself across the bed.

"Foot severed at the top of his game. How ever will he make a comeback in this condition?!"

"What are you rambling about?" Yuri tried pushing Victor off his lap.

"You were a little confused coming out of surgery," Yuuri chimed in. "You were saying some stuff that didn't really make sense." Yuri's eyes narrowed. "You were convinced they had amputated your foot."

"What!" Yuri roared. A blush crept over his cheeks.

"And I got the whole thing on video," Victor hummed, flashing his smartphone. Yuri swung at it.

"Delete it!"

"Not a chance! This is comedic gold and you know how much I love gold," Victor said. Yuri growled, muttering Russian under his breath that sounded a lot more French. Yuuri sighed,

"We should probably get ready to go, Yakov must be almost done with the paperwork by now."

"I'll go check!" Victor volunteered. Yuri spent the several minutes Victor was gone giving Yuuri a death glare. Yuuri smiled uneasily, trying to break the tension. Yuri didn't even blink. Not once. Great.

Victor kicked open the door. Yuuri let out a breath of relief. He turned to face his savior and felt all the blood drain from his face. Victor was hobbling into the room on crutches.

"V-Victor?! Where did you get those!" Yuuri asked horrified.

"Yurio I figured these would come in useful!" He swung over to the side of the bed. Yuri was not amused.

"Victor you can't steal crutches from a hospital! Who did you take those from?" Yuuri asked, trying not to picture the poor patient Victor had, quite literally, ripped the ground out from under.

"Relax Yuuri! We can't have our resident amputee hop to the car now can we?" Yuri glared at him. You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. "Not into crutches? Well, I guess we can always opt for a piggyback ride!" Victor chirped.

Yuri roared. He sprung from the bed and tackled Victor to the ground. The tugging on the IV caused the needle to pull free and spots of blood and saline were flying everywhere.

"I'll get a nurse! Victor, can you try to be a little less… you? Just until he's discharged?" Yuuri pleaded, rushing to the nearest nurses station.

When Yuuri returned with the nurse she was less than impressed.

"What can I do for you Yuri?" she asked. Her eyes widened as she fully took in the spectacle. Victor was curled up on the floor laughing as Yuri stood over him, gown wide open, beating him with a crutch.

"One more word and I'll shove this crutch so far up your ass you'll turn into a unicorn!" He yelled, or at least he tried to. Blood was dripping down his arm and onto the floor. The bedsheets were everywhere except on the bed. Yuuri was in the corner biting his nails. And the appointed guardian was on the phone in the lobby arguing very loudly with an ex-wife.

"Okay… let's see where we are with those discharge papers shall we?"

Yuri was wheeled to the curb in a wheelchair. The hospital staff waved from the door. They had never been happier to see a speedy recovery and an ever speedier discharge. Yuri had his phone in one hand and his plush cat in the other. Yakov got behind the driver's seat and everyone else piled in. Yakov dropped several prescriptions into the unoccupied passenger seat. Yuri curled up against the window, hood up, face in his phone. Yuuri and Victor chatted the majority of the ride back to the rink. The doctor recommended bed rest. You can get that at an ice rink, can't you? I mean… there are several chairs and one very comfortable plastic bench.

Yuri's phone dinged. He looked down to see he'd gotten a text from Otabek. Hmmm, that's strange, he thought, Beka doesn't usually text during the day. The text was only one word.

'Cute.'

Yuri was puzzled. He was going to reply when the attached files finished loading. Yuri stared in horror as he watched himself wrestling for a blanket in a hospital gown that left nothing to the imagination. In the next clip, he was blowing his nose on Yakov's coat, sobbing in a way that made him sound like an elephant with a head cold. Then there was a zoomed in image of himself bitch-slapping the katsudon across the face. Ice ran through Yuri's veins. His stomach dropped so fast it shit itself. His fingers felt numb as he replied.

'Where did you get those?!'

Otabek was typing for what felt like forever. Finally, a link popped up. A youtube video posted by V_ Nikiforov. It had over 2,000 views already. Yuri's insides combusted.

"VICTOR I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" He lunged at him. The car swerved, Yakov started yelling. Yuri's seatbelt held him back but he still clawed at the older man. Yuuri sat in the middle screaming and trying to get away with nowhere to go. Now everyone was screaming. Well everyone except Victor. He sat lazily against the other window, scrolling through Instagram.

"Relax Yurio, it's not as if it's gone viral. Yet."