Angel

Chapter 3

It only took a day and a half for Yuuri and Viktor to begin to develop a routine with Yuri. Neither man had spent much time around such a young child, so it was a learning experience for both of them. It was hard to tell how much of Yuri's needs were due to his age, his neglect, or his illness. He slept and lounged around on the couch a lot. Most of his new toys sat untouched. His meals were miniscule, but frequent. Both men were becoming more comfortable around the boy, less afraid of touching him, less concerned that he was going to either suddenly blow up on them or else keel over in silence. Yuri opened up with them a little more every passing hour. He was still suspicious of new things and often refused to speak, but Viktor and Yuuri held on to the hope that he was beginning to trust them.

"Time to check your temperature!" Viktor announced after dinner, kotlety for the adults and a sippy cup full of warm, unseasoned chicken broth for Yuri. The boy glowered at him. Yuri liked being held and carried; he even sometimes initiated the physical contact himself, hesitantly crawling into one of their laps while they watched television together on the couch or holding up his arms with his brows pinched together as though unsure if he was doing the right thing. Hugs and kisses seemed to bewilder him, though, and the poking and prodding that came with taking his temperature and administering his ear drops irritated him. Viktor's endless smiles never dimmed. "We'll go really fast," he promised. Yuri huffed, but sat still in his red booster seat while the man inserted the sharp plastic tip of the thermometer into his uninfected ear.

"Pyat," Viktor counted down, "chetyre, tri, dva, odin! Good job," he praised and read the number out for Yuuri. "37.8."

"It's coming down," the skater remarked, writing the number down on the chart he had made. Despite the medication, Yuri's fever had stubbornly stuck around, hovering around 38 degrees, never going higher than 38.4, but never breaking either. It made the little boy cold and sweaty and tired. He'd spent the majority of the day on the den couch, watching movies and listlessly playing with his new firetruck. He fell asleep around the same time as he had the day before and woke a few hours later. Yuuri made a note of it. "There." He picked Yuri up and showed him the chart.

Yuri touched the neatly printed number. "There" he repeated, and Yuuri smiled.

"How's your tummy?" Viktor asked. Meal times were hard for Yuri. His sensitive stomach was too used to being empty for food to be its friend. At the same time, Yuri wasn't able to pace himself when it came to food. His shrunken stomach would fill up quickly, but Yuri, too used to not having enough food or maybe going without completely, would eat everything he could and make himself sick. Already that day, Yuri had thrown up twice, once after breakfast and again after afternoon snack because he'd eaten more than his stomach could hold. Yuuri knew it was something they would have to watch out for.

Yuri shrugged.

"Do you want to hold off on medicine for now?" Viktor directed to Yuuri.

Yuri stuck his tongue out at the mention of his medicine, and Yuuri laughed. "I think we can wait awhile." There was no point in giving him medicine so soon after he ate when he was so likely to bring it back up. "How about a bath instead?"

Yuri brightened considerably. He kicked his feet out in the air at smiled at Yuuri. He didn't seem the type to do anything by half. The things he didn't like, such as taking medication, he really didn't like, and the things he liked, bath time and having his hair brushed, he looked forward to. "Bath!"

"Is it bath time?" Viktor took the boy and spun him around.

"You'll make him sick," Yuuri warned, but Yuri just giggled.

Bathing Yuri didn't really need to be a two-person job, but neither man was willing to miss out on seeing him look so happy.

"Bubbles!" Yuri exclaimed when Yuuri put him the tub. He splashed at the white foamy islands floating around him. He played with the little toy boats while the men worked in tandem, passing each other loofas and body wash that smelled like sugar cookies and lathered his pale skin. He pushed a boat under the water and watched as it popped back up to the surface. He clapped his hands together, delighted.