Yuuri!!! On Ice Oneshots

Overreactive - Yuri Plisetsky Centric

WARNINGS: Descriptions of gagging, dry heaving, pain, many mentions of vomit and food
I'm flaring pretty badly and recently had a reaction like I wrote Yuri having in Mocktails and Bar Bails (a reaction to what? We don't know! Fun! /s) so I'm churning this out as best I can.
Group chat names:
Mila - MacaroniInAPot
Viktor - NinkiMinjaj
Yuri - Im11SoStfu
Yuuri - TwoShotsOfVodka
Georgi - WayToGoPaul

"How are you feeling, Yura?"

"Shitty." This was a rare opportunity where he could get away with swearing right to his coach's face, and with how much pain he was in, he was going to take advantage of it. Even so, Otabek flicked him where his legs were draped across the other, head in Mila's lap and Georgi up front with Yakov (Viktor and Yuuri opting to walk back or wait for Leo and Guang Hong, so there'd be enough space in the car). 

He lightly gripped the bag that Yakov had handed him in case he puked, nausea making his throat feel like it was closing as he could practically feel himself bloating. It had been over an hour and a half since he first ate the calzones (and damnit, maybe he shouldn't have opted for the meal with three of them), ample enough time for his body to prepare to really throw a hissy fit. Luckily, the club was only about 15 minutes away from the place they were staying at, and they were only on the third floor (he really didn't want to stay in the elevator to get all the way to the top, where Viktor and Yuuri's room was). 

The two Russians kept Yuri steady as he walked into his room  and flopped onto the bed, curling up under the scratchy hotel bedclothes and reaching to grab his stuffed tiger from where it was shoved under his pillow (because the only people in the room already knew about it, Otabek thanks to a facetime call where he'd forgotten about time zones, and sometimes you needed a big stuffie to hug while you rode out a bad flare. It was science, or should be, really) and tucking it to his chest. He tuned out the conversation behind him, already knowing that Yakov would leave, once he had confirmation that his youngest skater wasn't to be left alone, to keep an eye on everyone else, and that Georgi would exit the room one way or another (even if he was physically pushed out, because he never slept well in a room where someone was sick, too worried they would need something while he slumbered). He and Mila shared a room, and he really shouldn't be completely alone like this (not that he particularly wanted to be anyways), so he figured she would stay.

Except when the door closed and he felt the bed sink next to him, it was too low to be Mila, and the warm hand settled on his shoulder, instead of combing through his hair like she usually did. He cracked his eyes open (when had he closed them? The light in the room was off now, maybe that was why) to a broad figure, only just a little less comforting than it would be if it were a teammate.

"Sara was worrying, Mila went to stay with her. I promised to stay here with you. Her ringer is on, so you can text her if you need to," Otabek said lowly, lightly rubbing his thumb along Yuri's clavicle. The blond could only nod and close his eyes again. Once he felt the Kazakh man pull away, however, his hand shot out and blindly reached for where he thought the wrist should be.

"'tay," Yuri mumbled. If he fell asleep soon, he wouldn't have to deal with the cramping that accompanied his body trying (and failing) to digest his meal, and mixed with the exhaustion of the day, warm touch from someone he trusted and felt comfortable with would knock him out quickly. Otabek complied, shifting closer to sit a bit further on the bed, pulling out his phone to entertain himself as he rubbed the smaller's back, feeling the muscles relax and breath even as he drifted to sleep.

~*~

Yuri awoke to find a dark figure sleeping on the ground between the beds (Otabek, his mind supplied, too polite to take Mila's bed while she was gone). That wasn't his main priority, as much as the fact that it felt like he was being stabbed through the liver and the roiling nausea building and shit-