Angel

Chapter 4

By the end of the week, Yuri's fever seemed to be gone for good. His voice had lost its raspy quality, there were no more complaints of earaches, and joyfully, the foul, chalky medicine and the milky purple syrup were ready to be replaced by gummy vitamins shaped like smiley faces. Yuri, no longer plagued by the fatigue his infection had brought on, was finally alert enough to play with some of his new toys. He pushed Kotonok around the kitchen on his firetruck while Yuuri made breakfast on Friday morning.

"Be careful," the skater warned him as he rammed the truck into the cabinets. "Don't break your truck."

Yuri frowned and inspected the fire engine's front bumper. A speck of white paint was stuck to it. "It okay," he insisted. He flopped Kotonok back onto it and scooted around the marble top island with it. "Look it! Yuuuri, look it, look it!" He pushed the truck as hard as he could, and it rolled away into the hall. "You seen it?"

"I did see," Yuuri smiled before going back to finishing the buckwheat porridge he was preparing. "You pushed it so far!"

Yuri beamed at him. The door slamming in the living room caught his attention, and he scampered out to investigate. "Vik-tor!" Yuuri heard him call. "Come see, come see!" He soon reappeared in the hall, followed closely by the coach and the dog, and pointed at his truck where it was sat in the hall. Makkachin nosed the stuffed tiger before licking Yuri's arm and padding into the kitchen to check for dropped snacks.

"Is Kotonok driving your truck?" Viktor asked.

"Show him how far you can push it," said Yuuri as he dished up breakfast.

Yuri eagerly complied and gave the truck a giant shove, sending it into the den. "See!"

"Whoa," Viktor gasped. "You got it all the way in the den! You're so strong!" Yuri's smile was so big, Viktor could have counted his teeth.

Breakfast was a slow, if frustrating affair. Yuri was getting better at eating and keeping his food in his stomach instead of all over his pajamas, but the task was arduous. He was more adept at handling his little utensils; they fit well in his hand and had rubber grips that made them easier to hold. However, he only took tiny bites of his food and spent more time pushing his food around his bowl between mouthfuls than actually eating. Eating so slowly meant Yuri had an easier time digesting his food, but it also meant the couple spent a long time at the table waiting for him to finish.

"How are you feeling today, Yura?" Viktor asked over the dregs of his coffee.

"Um, good," Yuri decided as he scraped his spoon around the sides of his bowl. "Tummy okay."

"That's great," Yuuri smiled. "We thought maybe if you were feeling good, we could do something fun today."

"Fun what?"

"My Yuuri and I need to go to the ice rink today."

"Why?"

"Have you ever been ice skating?"

Yuri shook his head, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl with a clatter. "All done."

"Well, it's really fun," Viktor explained. "It's what we do. We're skaters."

Yuri sipped at his blueberry flavored water, seemingly unimpressed. Yuuri bit his lip to keep from laughing. Viktor was maybe too used to people fawning over him due to his charming personality and his illustrious career as an Olympic figure skater. Yuri was a three-year-old who had never seen a Disney movie before coming to stay with them. There was absolutely no reason why Yuri would have any regard for skaters or their sport.

"It's a lot of fun," Yuuri elaborated. "You get to go really fast and spin around and jump. I think you'll like it."

The married couple spent a long time getting a bag together. Yuuri's things were easy to pack. Over the long years of his career, the supplies he brought with him to and from the rink had improved in quality, but the items themselves stayed the same. His warm up clothes, a hoodie, a couple towels, and several bottles of water were quickly collected and readied in his workout bag. He threw in deodorant, earbuds, and a pair of socks as well. He'd packed this same bag with the same things so often that he didn't have to think about what he needed or didn't need; it was second nature to him now. He neither over-packed nor under-packed. He never spent longer than about two minutes on getting his bag ready.