A/N: There's a better than decent chance that this isn't how ice skating scoring works... suspension of belief...just go with it...

Yuuri lands his quad flip, and immediately regrets it.

He can't catch his breath, his eyes are watering, making his vision even blurrier than usual, and everything, literally everything, is spinning.

He's dizzy and tired and everything hurts.

He can't think straight.

Hell, he can barely stand straight.

He's going to collapse right there on the ice; he knows it.

So he's pretty sure he's hallucinating when a welcomingly familiar hand suddenly rests against his shoulder, steadying him.

His voice shakes. "Viktor?"

Viktor's hand is cool and feels wonderful against his burning skin.

He doesn't feel like a hallucination, but he can't be real. Why would he be out here? "Why...?"

Viktor says he's taking him off the ice - saving him from this nightmare - and Yuuri decides he doesn't care if he's real or not. He seems real enough - real enough to safely collapse against anyway.

So he does.

He doesn't really remember anything beyond that.

XXX

He's vaguely aware of being jostled onto something soft before an unfamiliar voice asks him how he feels. He mumbles something -tired, he thinks - and, shortly thereafter, a cool cloth is laid on his forehead and a comfortingly warm blanket is laid over the rest of him.

XXX

The first thing he's aware of, the next time he wakes up, is the low static hum coming from a nearby television.

His head throbs, and lifting his eyelids seems like a lot of effort, so he just listens.

Viktor Nikiforov has been disqualified from the event for illegal entry of the ice.

Huh.

Nikiforov will, however, be allowed to continue to compete in other competitions.

Odd.

Nikiforov will also be accepting the gold medal on his fiancé Yuuri Katsuki's behalf.

He must only be half awake, still dreaming.

The TV really isn't making a lot of sense.

The judges, after some debate, chose to score only the completed portion of Katsuki's routine.

He couldn't have won.

Katsuki performed the routine with a low grade fever and several other symptoms of influenza.

Well, that part, at least, sounds accurate.

He shifts slightly and groans as his muscles protest even that small movement.

Nikiforov realized something was wrong and immediately tried to move Katsuki from the arena. Katsuki fainted before he was off the ice.

Yuuri tries to digest that information, fails, blinks several times, and tries to sit up.

The gold medalist is now resting and expected to make a full recovery.

A large, firm hand pushes him back. "Rest, Yura."

He's even more confused now. He has no idea where he is and, "Yakov?"

"Vitya and Yura will be back from the medal ceremony soon, and I'm sure they can both scold you for being so stupid much more effectively than I can."

Medal ceremony?

Yuuri tries to sit up again because he wants to know what's going on. The room spins, and Yakov pushes him back again. "The TV's across from you. Rest."

He fully opens his eyes, finds everything exceptionally blurry, and sighs in resignation. He'll have to wait until Viktor and Yurio come back then, he supposes. Except, to his relief, Yakov rustles around for a moment before placing his spare glasses next to him. "I forgot; Vitya brought these for you."

He breathes a "thank you" before turning to the television.

There are already three men standing on the three tier podium. On the top is, unsurprisingly, Viktor, then Yurio, then, Phichit.

He grins brightly. He's very happy for all three of them.

He'll just have to try to get up there himself again next year.

He can't imagine he'd be sick like this again; it'd be like lightning striking twice.

And Viktor had made it pretty clear last year how upset he'd be if he quit.

As the bronze medal is placed over his neck, Phichit looks slightly dazed. Yuuri imagines he is; he's never been on that podium before. It's a surreal feeling.

Yurio, on the other hand, looks more than a little pissed off as he takes the silver. Yuuri almost wants to laugh, but he's pretty sure he'd regret it.

There's a lengthy, uncertain pause before the camera pans to Viktor.

Our final medalist, Yuuri Katsuki, has fallen ill and is unable to attend the medal ceremony. His fiancé, Viktor Nikiforov, is accepting the medal on his behalf."

The gold medal is simply handed to Viktor, rather than placed over his head, and a picture of Yuuri himself flashes across the bottom of the screen.

Yuuri blinks.

He's definitely not dreaming now, but this still doesn't make any sense.

He sits bolt upright.

"What?!"

He starts coughing so hard he starts wheezing.

Yakov comes across the room and awkwardly rubs at his back until the fit stops; they're both more than a little relieved when it finally does.

"Yes, Yura, you won. I'm not sure you deserved it; what you did was both dangerous and idiotic. But your performance, Yura, ah, we've finally seen what I've always wanted to see from you - what happens when you don't think so much. It was a thing of beauty, right up to the end. You even fell to Vitya gracefully."

He won?

He really won?

He's more than a little dazed.

He just sort of nods, mumbles a 'thank you' to Yakov, and slumps back down the pillow.

Yakov's voice is stern but far away. "Good. Rest. And, Yura, I never want to see you do something so foolish again. You could have been seriously hurt!"

XXX

The next thing he wakes up to is a large, cold weight resting against his upper chest. He realizes, slightly before he hears Yurio, that it's his medal.

"Viktor, you idiot, Katsudon already can't breath. Get that off of him."

"The press wants a picture of him with it," Viktor says, in a way that's simultaneously defensive and apologetic. He still quickly pulls the medal back off.

"Well, the press can shove it up their ass. It's not like they don't know he's sick. So worry about your boyfriend, not them."

Viktor sighs before brushing Yuuri's bangs away from his eyes. "Sorry, Yuuri."

Yuuri reaches for him and slurs, "It's okay, Viktor. I could breath. I feel better without it though."

"Oh, good. He lives," Yurio mutters. Then he rounds on him, coming closer to the bed, looking absolutely furious. "What were you thinking, Katsudon? Do you have a death wish? You're an absolute moron! Next time we compete, I better not lose to you because you're so far from thinking straight your brain's actually frying. You got it?"

Yuuri sighs. "I'm sorry I worried you, Yuri."

"What? I wasn't worried. I'm pissed. But, look, it's not like I totally don't care. I'm glad you're okay, alright? But you better make this up to Viktor. He's kind of a mess over you."

Yuuri looks up at Viktor and frowns as he sees Viktor's eyes are actually watering. He rests his hand against Viktor's shoulder. "Don't cry, Viktor."

"Oh for the love of god, you two are the sappiest idiots. I'm out of here," Yurio practically runs out the door. But he stops in the doorframe and shouts back, "But you both better be ready and waiting when I bring my grandfather's soup over for you later!"

They both glance at the doorway as Yurio slams the door before turning back to each other.

Viktor's eyes are really streaming now. He leans down and pulls Yuuri into a bone crushing hug. "I'm so mad at you, Yuuri, but I'm so mad at myself. Why did you think you needed to do this? Did I make you think you needed to do this? You said you wanted to get married tonight. Did you think you had to do this?"

There's a part of Yuuri that thinks exactly that, and there's a more reasonable and rational part of Yuuri that cups Viktor's face in his hands and reminds him, "Vitya, I was delirious."

"Oh, Yuuri, I never should have said you had to earn gold before we got married. That was too much pressure. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Viktor. It's okay." Yuuri reaches for the gold medal that Viktor's set next to him and laughs, slightly hysterically, trying to break the tension, "Besides, look, I have gold now. Do you want to kiss it?"

Viktor rubs at his eyes and laughs. "I do."

He picks up the medal, glances at it, lets his lips linger over it, then drops it and tilts Yuuri's head up towards him. He leans down and kisses him firmly.

Yuuri pulls back and squints at him, "Viktor, what are you doing?"

Viktor smiles brightly, "Kissing my gold."

Yuuri smiles and kisses him back fiercely.

It only occurs to them, after it's far too late, that Yuuri is probably contagious.

A/N: Yuuri never learns where he is; poor Yuuri. (He's in the waiting/watching room for the skaters; in my head, since the competition was over, it wasn't being used).