**Author's Note!**

Two hundred reads!!!!!! Oh my god, I'm losing it! I love you guys so much, your support means everything to me! <3333333

October 1st, 2025- Two Weeks Later- 8 Months-

Yuuri's POV 1st Person

I find Yurio lying dead asleep on the couch, his blonde hair covering his face in a thin veil. Coming up beside him, I gently push his hair back to survey his face. He's very pale, paler than usual, and his breathing is uneven. I put a hand on his forehead and sigh, a fever. After a quick search of the couple's medicine cabinet, I return with a thermometer. Brushing his hair out of his face, I attempt to take his temperature. He stirs and pushes me away, opening his eyes and looking disoriented.

"What are you doing here?" He mumbles, looking at me still half asleep. "Did Beka call you, because I swear, I'm fine." He insists despite the fact that he looks like he's dying. I gloss over his question, the answer obviously being, yes, and change the subject.

"Do you need something?" I ask him. He shakes his head vaguely but stops, pressing a hand to it and looking pained, "Let me see what I can find," I stand up and start to head to the bathroom when I'm stopped by his outstretched hand.

"There isn't anything," He says and seems to be more awake now, his voice firm.

"You don't have pain reliever?" I ask, surprised. We're figure skaters; we fall so hard we can barely get up and acquire bruises so bad we cannot move, needless to say, we always have aspirin.

"Nothing I can take," He says and sits up with some difficulty, using the back of the couch for support. His blanket slips down as he does so, and I see that his other arm is wrapped around his stomach, holding it as he repositions.

"Oh," It dawns on me. It's been seven years since Maria came into our lives and I don't remember every detail of the process immediately, but it's coming back. "There's nothing you can take?" He shakes his head again and starts to stand up.

"I'm fine," He says, but the effect is diluted by the fact he's struggling so visibly to get his balance. "You can go, you need to get back," He regains his footing at last and starts heading slowly and unsteadily to the kitchen. I can't tell how much of this is due to him having a fever, or to him being eight months pregnant, but I do know I'm not just going to leave. 

"Can I grab something?" I follow him into the other room. He shakes his head and grabs a glass from the cabinet, but it slips through his fingers and smashes on the floor. He flinches in spite of himself, and looks like he wants to just lay down and die, but begins cleaning it up even so. "Let me do that," I offer as he grabs the dustpan from a corner.

"I'm fine," He says cantankerously, but his face is so pale, and he still looks so unsure of his balance I just take the dustpan from him and begin to sweep up the mess. He stands there for a second, looking defiant, but seems to give in and returns to the living room. 

Once the glass has been cleared away and disposed of accordingly I find him sitting, eyes closed, on the sofa. I don't disturb him, and instead, fold up the blanket from before and place it neatly on a chair. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the small blonde figure shift, his face is strained and seems sapped of any energy, but even so, he reopens his eyes. "Thank you," Yurio says, and I know the vexed look on his face comes both from the gesture of gratitude he unwillingly gave and from the illness. "But, really, you should go. I'm fine,"

"Otabek asked Victor and me to look in on you," I reply and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew it, he's just being overprotective, this is no big deal." I disagree. Otabek had called me, and by extension Victor as well, and told us that Yurio wasn't feeling well and he was worried about him. Right now he's in Chongqing, China, for the Grand Prix series, and, although he didn't want to go (Yurio forced him to) he can't be there for his husband this week. He was loathe to leave him, and I can understand why. Yurio's eight months pregnant and fragile (according to Otabek at least) as the stress of it takes such tolls on a person's body.

"You seem sick, your fever's pretty high," I challenge him, raising an eyebrow.

"It's just the flu," He says dismissively, but still looks ill, "It'll be gone in a week,"

"The flu can be pretty bad," I return, "You should go to a doctor,"

"I'm fine," He replies but his strength is fading before my eyes. I open my mouth to respond but he seems to reconsider, realizing this is an argument he cannot win, "I'll go to a doctor," He sighs, conceding at last. 

Before I leave, it's agreed upon that I'll drive him the next day and in return, he'll call me if he needs anything (which I'm sure he's sure he won't but I make him promise just in case.) I leave and he's still on the sofa, just hovering on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, with an exhausted air about him. Hopefully, he'll be able to get some rest tonight, he looks like he needs it.

***

October 3rd, (TWO Days Later)

Yuri's POV 1st Person

"Yuri?" I hear a voice as though from very far away, and struggle to respond. "Yuri?" The voice says again and I manage to open my eyes, although they feel very heavy. My husband kneels in front of me, looking gently concerned, "Are you okay?" I nod vaguely but wince at the motion, a fact he doesn't fail to notice.

"You're home?" I ask him, confused. He left on the 30th, had the Short Program on the first, Free on the second, and the Exhibition on the third. Which must make today- the fourth? 

He nods and guides me to a sitting position, propping me up against his chest. "I just got back. How long have you been lying here?" I really don't know, after I got back from the doctor's with Yuuri yesterday (it was the flu, shocker) I went straight back to sleep. All I know is that I woke up at some point, experienced a rush of nausea, and ended up in the bathroom. I can only conclude that once the violent retching was done I fell asleep by the toilet, an idea that seems feasible.

"I'm not sure," I say weakly, eyes drifting shut and letting my head loll against my husband. "I just woke up," Otabek puts a palm to my forehead and then compares with his own.

"You definitely have a fever," He says and then scans my face, looking concerned, "Have you been to the doctor?" I begin to nod then stop, squeezing my eyes shut as my head throbs painfully. 

"Yes," I amend, "Flu," Otabek sighs,

"I knew there was something wrong, I never should've left you," He strokes my hair, "I'm so sorry I wasn't here," He gives me a light kiss on the forehead and gathers me in his arms, carrying me back into our bedroom. He sets me down on the bed, gently, as if I'm a baby bird about to break. "Is there anything I can do?" He asks me and I feel my eyelids slip shut.

"You're here," I murmur and, feeling his hand on my cheek, a smile spreads across my face. "That's enough,"

**Author's Note!**

So, literally nothing happened in this chapter, sorry! It was fun to write though so, oh well.

In other news- I may or may not have just realized that I never wrote a chapter six and skipped straight from five to seven...... Oops.
I'm going to go through and re-name the chapters so they're in order, just one less. None of the content will change this is just me making things match up and fixing the mistake some idiot made. Not to name names but that idiot is the idiot typing this. So, yeah, that's just about it! Sorry if there was any confusion! See you next time!