She moved up to the bed and started to check his vitals – or harass him, Wei Ying couldn’t really tell which one it was. She was probably around fifty and had a distinct aunt-y vibe that made Wei Ying lay still on danger of getting stabbed with a needle.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked, after she had apparently determined that he was conscious and held it together enough for conversation.

“No,” Wei Ying croaked, and immediately started coughing. His throat felt terribly dry.

The nurse went to his bedside table, where a cup and a pitcher of water had been placed, and filled the cup for him. Then she made him drink.

“You’ve been in a traffic accident,” she told him without ceremony. “You got hit by a car and had to be brought here in an ambulance.”

Shit. Could that be true?

He didn’t remember any of that.

“I don’t remember,” he told the nurse.

“Honey, it’s probably better if you don’t,” she said, patting him on the arm absent-mindedly. “That’s your brain protecting you. You’re also on painkillers right now,” here, she pointed at one of the drips that went into his arm, “and they tend to make your brain a little foggy. You only need to focus on getting better right now.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting to Wei Ying. He’d been lying here, doing–

“My work!” he suddenly remembered.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” the nurse said, shaking her head. “I think that nice Mr. Lan has taken care of all that.”

She checked her watch.

“It’s almost time for him to visit, too. Such a nice young man, if only youngsters nowadays were a little more like him.”

She sighed, patted Wei Ying’s arm again, and then left, hopefully to tell someone else that he had gained consciousness again.

Wei Ying sighed and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what the nurse had meant with “that nice Mr. Lan,” because he didn’t know anyone with the last name Lan. Certainly no one who would visit him at the hospital. Had she gotten his visitor’s name wrong? He tried to think of a different possibility, but couldn’t think of anyone. Wen Ning was away. And Jiang Cheng still wasn’t speaking to him, not to mention that no one in their right mind would ever call Jiang Cheng a ‘nice young man’ if they had spent more than 30 seconds in his presence.

He wasn’t kept in suspense about the identity of his visitor for very long, though. Only minutes after the nurse had left, the door opened again, and through came a man that Wei Ying had never seen in his life. He would have definitely remembered meeting him, Wei Ying was sure, because the man was a devastating combination of tall, handsome and well-dressed. Very memorable. Even in his current drugged-up state.

The man hesitated for one small moment when he saw Wei Ying looking at him, but then continued his progress through the room with a measured pace, finally arriving at Wei Ying’s bedside. He did not speak, but silently placed several items onto Wei Ying’s bedside table. Wei Ying saw a book, what looked to be some healthy snacks, as well as… his phone? It looked terribly beaten up, but a traffic accident might do that to a phone. He should probably be glad if it still worked.

The stranger must have noticed the direction of his gaze, for he finally opened his mouth.

“I have taken the liberty of contacting you place of work.”

“Thank you,” Wei Ying said, sending the stranger an ironic smile. “What I’d rather like to know, though… who are you?”

The stranger bowed slightly, as if to apologise for his rudeness.

“Lan Zhan,” he said. “I was the one… who hit you with my car.”

“Oh, I see,” Wei Ying said, several things suddenly becoming clear to him. “This is a ‘I’m feeling guilty’ visit. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine. I’ll be out of here in no time.”

The stranger, Lan Zan, frowned at Wei Ying’s words.

“It is not guilt that has made me come here,” he said.

Then he was silent again. Wei Ying waited for a moment, but when nothing else happened, he raised his eyebrows at Lan Zhan, encouraging him to go on. Lan Zhan looked as if he’d rather do anything else than open his mouth again, but eventually, thanks to Wei Ying’s pathetic wheedling, he conceded.

“The one responsible for your accident was the driver who suddenly came out of a side street and nearly ran you over,” Lan Zhan explained. “You ended up in front of my car because you were trying to escape his path of collision. He also crashed into my car, nearly hitting you a second time. I have no guilt to speak of, but I am grateful that you survived. I was worried, however, when your family could not be contacted.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Wei Ying stuttered. “Honestly, that shouldn’t be any concern to you. I’ll be fine. My family… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Your family should care for you if you are injured.”

There was a stubborn set around Lan Zhan’s mouth, and Wei Ying suddenly found himself smiling. He wasn’t sure if he should call it fortune or misfortune, but this Lan Zhan was clearly an incredibly stiff man with very strict notions of propriety, to the point where he involved himself into the affairs of others.

“Ah, Lan-gege,” Wei Ying sighed. “Not to say I’m not very grateful for your help, which I am, but let me assure you that you have officially fulfilled your obligations and are free to leave. You have already done more than I can ask for. If it is as you say, I have no ill feelings towards you. Feel free to go on with your life, and sorry about the car. I think I need to sleep again, I feel very tired.”

He was, in fact, feeling very tired, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open by the minute.

Lan Zhan seemed to realise that that was the case. He said his goodbyes, but before he left the room, he announced, “I will come again.”

Wei Ying wanted to object, but Lan Zhan was already gone, and Wei Ying’s eyes were closing.

---

The next few days passed in the monotony of sleeping, check-ups by doctors and nurses, terrible hospital meals, and occasional visits from Lan Zhan.

As handsome as he might have been, at first Wei Ying really didn’t want Lan Zhan to come back again. He quickly learned to be grateful for his frequent visits, however. Staying in the hospital was extremely boring, even with the books that Lan Zhan brought him, and everything was much better once he trained Lan Zhan to bring him spicy snacks.

After a few excessively boring days in bed (more than he cared for, certainly), he was finally allowed to walk around a little in order to regain his strength, and Lan Zhan would take him outside into the garden whenever he visited. Wei Ying was extremely grateful for that, since the nurses didn’t allow him to go alone.

Wei Ying quickly learned on their little excursions that Lan Zhan rarely spoke, but was an extremely attentive listener who would prove said attention in the most unexpected moments. It was almost shocking sometimes; Wei Ying would ramble on about something, and Lan Zhan would suddenly say one thing or another that made clear he had been paying attention when most people would have tuned out already. It was… flattering, to say the least. To have someone pay attention to him so much. Definitely something Wei Ying could get used to.

Lan Zhan was also very attentive to Wei Ying’s physical state. More than once, when Wei Ying felt his own strength lagging, he suddenly found Lan Zhan’s hand at his elbow, steadily and unobtrusively making sure that he didn’t fall over his own clumsy feet. Lan Zhan seemed to know that he needed support almost before Wei Ying himself realised it.

Normally, he would complain about being thought a weakling, but if Wei Ying were honest, he would admit that sometimes, he really needed the support. And well… he couldn’t really bring himself to mind being spoiled by a handsome man. If he were really honest, he would confess that he simply liked Lan Zhan’s hands on him, and any excuse that provided him with an opportunity was good enough, even if he had to play up his weakness.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said when they were on one of their garden excursions one day, eating little cups of mango panna cotta that Lan Zhan had brought with him today on a bench. “I will be released tomorrow. You don’t have to visit me here any longer after today.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “What time?”

“Around ten, I think? Why do you ask?”

“I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying sighed deeply and swallowed the last spoonful of dessert.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. I can ask a friend to pick me up. You shouldn’t do so many things for me. If you are too nice, people will end up misunderstanding. Well, I will end up misunderstanding. You wouldn’t want that to happen, now would you?”

He directed his best salacious grin at Lan Zhan.

“Nn,” Lan Zhan replied noncommittally. “I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan for a moment. Could it be that Lan Zhan was that thick? That he didn’t realise what Wei Ying was getting at? Did he have to spell it out for Lan Zhan? That he meant misunderstanding in the sense of kissing and possibly getting naked with each other?

“Lan Zhan, I’m serious,” Wei Ying complained, tugging at Lan Zhan’s sleeve to make him look at him properly. “I will misunderstand.”

Lan Zhan looked at him, and it struck Wei Ying again how beautiful Lan Zhan’s eyes were. He had thought that Lan Zhan was pretty much expressionless when they first got to know each other, but that had been patently untrue. His perpetually serious eyes were the source of so much deeply felt emotion. Everything Lan Zhan felt, he felt with his entire heart. So when Lan Zhan looked at him, Wei Ying automatically felt his pulse speed up and his cheeks start to grow hot. That was the effect Lan Zhan had on anyone he really directed his attention towards.

“I will pick you up,” Lan Zhan repeated once again. Stubbornly, insistently. Mulishly.

Without breaking their line of sight even once. Just serious. And steady.

“Oh,” Wei Ying whispered.

Oh. Lan Zhan didn’t want him to misunderstand. Lan Zhan wanted him to understand.

Wei Ying shot up from the bench they had been sitting on and walked over to the trash can close by, to throw away his empty cup of panna cotta. Lan Zhan followed him, throwing his own cup into the trash. As he did it, he looked about as disquieted as Lan Zhan ever did, but right now, Wei Ying was unable to handle anything.

Could he be right? Did Lan Zhan – that Lan Zhan –

As he stood there, he slightly tilted to the side – and there he was, Lan Zhan was right at his side, steadying him. But right now, Wei Ying didn’t want to be steadied. He leaned further into Lan Zhan’s side, putting most of his weight on Lan Zhan right until his head a found a home in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighed. “Taking advantage of the weak and injured, I see. Do you always flirt like that? Picking people up at the hospital?”

He looked up at Lan Zhan and smiled.

Lan Zhan didn’t answer, but one of his arms most definitely found its way around Wei Ying’s waist, holding him securely to Lan Zhan’s side. It was… intimate.

It was answer enough.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘No, Wei Ying is the only one for me,’” Wei Ying pouted.

“Wei Ying is the only one for me,” Lan Zhan intoned seriously.

Wei Ying had to bury his face in his hands and scream a little.

“You can’t say things like that out of the blue!” he complained. “My poor, beaten body won’t be able to take it!”

Then he peeked out between the gaps between his fingers, up at Lan Zhan.

“Say it again.”

 (When Lan Zhan picked him up the next day, he received a kiss for his efforts.)

(One kiss, or many.)

“Oh!” The Celestial’s silver skin glows luminescent in the moonlight, his mouth forming a perfect heart. “You are adorable!”

Yuuri sighs and looks down at Vicchan, who tilts his head to one side. Of course; everyone adores his poodle-shaped daemon.

“No, no,” Viktor says, grabbing Yuuri’s face between his hands. “You. You are adorable.” He smiles, gold freckles lighting up like constellations across the bridge of his nose. “Not that I have anything against your daemon.”

Right on cue, a second poodle-shaped daemon bounds past Viktor and tackles Yuuri to the floor, as bright and enthusiastic as its original counterpart.

“I didn’t know Celestials had daemons,” Yuuri laughs, as the animal slathers his cheeks with a wet tongue.

“I call him Makkachin,” Viktor says.

“I call mine Vi—“ Yuuri pauses, mouth open. Then, plunging on, cheeks turning a shade of scarlet red, “Vicchan.”

“You named a part of yourself after me?” Viktor gasps while Vicchan sniffs cautiously at his offered hand.

“No! Yes!” Yuuri drops his head in his hands. “… maybe.”

“It’s fate,” Viktor sighs happily. “Fate brought us together.”

“Through the men’s bathroom,” Yuuri mutters under his breath.

So all’s well that ends well.

Or so it would seem, until the rebel forces vehemently against the alliance decide to show up on the day of the wedding.

There’s lots of shouting, cursing, and waving of pitch forks. Yuuri wonders about the Celestial priest’s interrupted sermon about Celestials being a species that is advanced beyond human comprehension. (Even the priest of the human race looked vaguely miffed.)

“Liberty, or death!” screams the gold-skinned Celestial leader, looking no older than fifteen.

“You’re supposed to be grounded,” yells an older Celestial in the crowd, his grisly features swollen and red.

“I’m rebelling against your stupid rules, Yakov,” the young Celestial snaps.

“Nikolai tasked me with caring for you while he’s—“

“Blah blah blah blah blah!”

“Yuri Mikhailovich Plisetsky—“

At the side of the altar, best man Phichit is bent over double, shaking with something that looks suspiciously like laughter. Vicchan and Makkachin are on the floor, nudging and tumbling about in play.

“Um,” Yuuri says while the rest of the rebel forces glance uncertainly at each other. He’s hyperaware of the way Viktor catches his hand in a tight grip, of the way Viktor steps in front of him when the rebels reveal themselves, of the way Viktor’s back looks tall and comforting and safe. “Is the wedding still on? Because my mother fried a lot of pork…”

Viktor’s eyes gleam. “Did you say pork?”

It turns out Celestials really like katsudon.

If anything, Yuuri thinks, watching Viktor and the angry Celestial rebel leader cram their faces with his mother’s cooking, his mother is Earth’s true ambassador.

Day 28

[Viktor’s wrapped in a wine-red scarf and has a plaid shirt on, trench coat open over it. His beard is full, the neck stubble expertly faded, and he actually looks his age for once. He’s twisted to face the photographer, a warm laugh in his eyes. A door is pushed half-open behind him; at half-height a large, fluffy poodle grins at the camera through the gap]

a) this is my #aesthetic; b) this was an excuse to describe all the fanart I wish existed; c) I had to learn about how to shave beards to write the bit of “expertly faded”. d) now that I live in Canada, I would write ‘flannel’ instead of ‘plaid shirt’. 

phichit+chu さん、他901 728 人が　「いいね！」しました

… I don’t remember why I decided that viktor’s insta would be in japanese. but I do remember it was a conscious decision .

v-nikiforov can’t believe it’s been almost 30 days! I’ve really connected with my inner lumberjack, but even when the beard goes, the connection will stay. Movember isn’t just for November - you can read more about their work here.

there was a lumberjack joke – to do with a charity calendar plotbunny @alykapediaaa & I have been nursing?? I think??? also please just imagine viktor performing “Iiiiii’m a lumberjack and i’m okay!”. 

also this is viktor at Peak PR. it was news to me too that Movember isn’t just for November. also I totally aped the whole “pets aren’t just for Christmas!” thing. 

we’ve reached almost half a million dollars in the last 28 days. Yuuri and I are excited to make that a full million, so please contribute to medical research about cancer here if you can! thank you for your amazing support from all over the world! )))))

#day 28 #movember #yuurikatsuki #imalumberjackandimokay #moisturise #beardoil #detroitgroomingco #corktowngroomingoil

gotta slide in his husbando there. also lol look at that monty python ref! couldn’t help myself. those are actual hipster beard oil companies. the googling I did, I tell you. ….also I thought long & hard about how much would be feasible for them to have collected & co-donate. there may have been some on-the-fly mathsing. 

他のコメントを表示：aleksandrovechkinofficial wow!!!is good playoff beard!! you are a real #icedaddy now хахахаха have donated my friend )))

my pet headcanon up until ovie did that whole shitty supporters of putin club thing was that he and viktor were total bros. but, you know, fu ovie. otoh i think the ice daddy thing is hilarious and so does fictional ovie. 

bearded_willows what kind of moisturiser do you use, man, asking for a friend.

really, insta user bearded_willows, ‘for a f riend’???

christophe-gc ah, but who will miss it more? ;)))v-nikiforovСпасибо @aleksandrovechkinofficial! @christophe-gc yuuri says “ CHRIS!!!!!!!!!! (〃ﾟдﾟ〃)”

i like to think that yuuri still has no insta presence and viktor is his personal social media secretary.

veni.vedi.victuuri paging @catskins, i need CPR

i’m very proud of “veni.vedi.victuuri”!!! and that was my brief little play on the recent fic tropes with fandom metacommentary! it was fun!