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It starts with a cough.
After they wrap up their supply run on Otara, Viktor and Yuuri don’t see each other for a couple of days. Well, it’s not that they don’t see each other. Yuuri has basically moved into Viktor’s room. But they haven’t had much time to just be around each other, and it’s making Viktor antsy. They’re both busy. That’s the only reason Viktor didn’t notice the cough sooner.
A week after docking, Viktor decides to put Chris in charge of the bridge for a couple hours and goes down to the labs to surprise Yuuri. He picks up some tea from the kitchens on his way down.
“Yuuri! My love! The light of my life! I’ve come bearing gifts!”
Yuuri emerges from a pile of lab reports, sputtering and blushing.
“Vitya,” he admonishes him, taking the cup of tea, “didn’t we talk about professionalism in the workplace?”
Viktor looks around the empty lab. “No one’s here, solnyshko. And anyway no one cares.”
Yuuri tsks, but Viktor can see a fond smile working its way onto his lips. He decides to toe the line and swoops in the kiss his cheek.
“Vitya! Professionalism!” Yuuri screeches. He retaliates by leaning up on his tiptoes–– which is adorable–– and kissing Viktor’s nose. They quickly devolve into trading kisses and giggle like school children. Viktor is so smitten.
“What–– Mmp! W-What was that about professionalism?” Viktor teases.
“Shut up.”
Yuuri leads them towards his office in the back of the lab and sits down at his desk. Viktor ignores the other chairs in the room and sits down on top of Yuuri’s desk, right in front of him.
Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “You’re sitting on my reports.”
“You don’t need paper copy reports,” Viktor replies. “Plus, I missed you. I don’t want to sit with a whole desk in between us.”
“You’re very clingy today.”
Viktor’s smile freezes. “Clingy like… bad?”
“Oh, no!” Yuuri scoots forward until he’s as close as possible. “Not bad. It’s good, I like it. I missed you, too.”
Viktor grins. He leans in for another kiss but Yuuri interrupts him with a sneeze.
“Damn vents.” Viktor says. He reaches over to the far end of Yuuri’s desk and hands him a tissue.
“What?”
Viktor blinks. He offers him the tissue. “It’s a tissue? For your nose?”
“No, not that. What did you just say?”
“Damn vents. Do you not say that when someone sneezes?”
Yuuri shakes his head, giggling. “I think it’s just a space station thing. We don’t say that on Earth. What does that even mean?”
“It’s like–– Yuuri, stop laughing! If you laugh, I’m going to laugh! I think we started saying it because the vents had a lot of dust in them or something and people would sneeze or–– it’s not that weird, Yuuri!”
“I’m sorry, that’s just such a space baby thing to say,” Yuuri chuckles.
“Space baby?”
“People born in space? You know like––” Yuuri coughs–– “like you, or Chris.”
Yuuri’s laughter gives away into a coughing fit. Viktor’s amused smile drops from his face.
“Are you okay?” he pats Yuuri’s back while he coughs.
“Y-Yeah,” Yuuri croaks. He picks up his tea and takes a sip. “My throat’s been a little sore lately. This tea is perfect, actually. How did you know?”
“We must be connected somehow,” Viktor says, smiling.
But he knows, somewhere deep down, that something is wrong.
Viktor takes time off from his shift to visit Yuuri’s lab everyday that week. They haven’t been on a field mission in a while, so there’s really not much to do besides supply inventory while they travel to their next space station check-in. He brings hot tea every time and carefully observes Yuuri in his natural habitat, the lab.
On Monday, Yuuri bumbles around the lab, stacking papers and moving around data pads. He chats with Viktor while he works on the supply spreadsheets and drinks his tea–– a level of multitasking that Viktor has never seen before. Just another reason why Yuuri is quite possibly the most amazing person Viktor has ever met. He coughs occasionally, but it’s not bad.
On Tuesday, his throat is feeling worse so he doesn’t talk to Viktor as much. When he does talk, his voice is all low and husky, which Viktor thinks is incredibly sexy. Distractingly sexy. Viktor forgets what he’s talking about a total of six times within the hour. From the looks Yuuri is sending him, he knows how distracted Viktor is.
Viktor just loves him so much.
By Wednesday Yuuri is having horrible coughing fits. He’s not eating as much and he sneezes more than he smiles.
Thursday is horrible. Yuuri’s muscles hurt so much he can’t get out of bed. Viktor gives them both the day off and takes him to the medbay.
“Captain,” Seung Gil greets him at the door. “What can I––”
“Yuuri is sick,” Viktor says. He pushes past Seung Gil and guides Yuuri to sit down on an examination chair. “Fix him.”
“I’m fine, Seung Gil. It’s just a––” Yuuri coughs–– “just a cold.”
“I usually trust your judgement, Yuuri. You know this. But,” Seung Gil steps forward, snapping on medical gloves, “you have a history of downplaying your own injuries and disregarding your health. This will go by quickly if you stop protesting.”
Viktor watches anxiously as Seung Gil presses white medical pads to Yuuri’s temple and hooks him up to the biometric scanner. He feels around the column of Yuuri’s neck, humming and tsking in disapproval as he does. Finally, he taps something into his data pad and turns back to them.
“He has measles,” Seung Gil concludes.
“Measles?” Viktor balks.
“This isn’t usually a problem because of herd immunity,” Seung Gil explains. “Basically, the human population on the ship is immune to most infections because of vaccination. Yuuri must have come in contact with someone who was infected while we were docked on Otara.”
“I was with him the whole week and I’m not sick.”
“You can’t catch most things that other humans can.”
Viktor bites his lip and looks at Yuuri, curled up in the examination chair. He still smiles and gives Viktor a weak thumbs-up.
“I’m okay,” he croaks out. “It’s just measles.”
Seung Gil frowns. “Measles killed millions of people before the 22nd Century.”
Viktor flinches. Seung Gil has the tact to look a little sheepish.
“You’re going to be fine,” Seung Gil says. “Get a lot of rest and drink lots of water. I’m writing you a prescription for some fever relief medication. It should work for you, but if it doesn’t, come back and we’ll try something else. And no work for the next two weeks.”
Yuuri opens his mouth to protest but Viktor cuts in.
“Please, Yuuri.” Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand, cradling it gently in both of his own. “The ship will survive and your research will be there when you feel better.”
Yuuri must really be tired because he doesn’t argue. Instead he just nods like he’s accepting an execution sentence.
“Fever relief medication.” Viktor repeats, looking to Seung Gil for confirmation. “And lots of rest?”
“And water.”
“And water,” Viktor nods.
Viktor calls in sick to his next shift and focuses on making Yuuri comfortable. He builds Yuuri a blanket nest in their bed, pulling out all his softest blankets and running back to Yuuri’s old room with Phichit to fetch some extras, just in case he gets cold. Then he places two glasses of water on the bedside and instructs Yuuri to nap.
And then he starts his research.
Viktor sits in their living room with his datapad open for hours. Back in the Academy, he never really studied for tests. He naturally absorbed knowledge. Now, he pulls up everything he can on measles and studies until his eyes hurt. He even emails Seung Gil to ask for a typed up list of the best ways to care for Yuuri.
By the time Yuuri shuffles out of the bedroom, the artificial sunlight generators have dimmed into night. The only source of light in the room is the blue glow of Viktor’s datapad as he reads another article on the human immune system.
“Vitya?”
“Yuuri! You’re awake!” Viktor bounces off the couch and rushes to his side, wrapping an arm around him. “Did you need something? Are you hungry?”
“I’m okay. Have you seen my datapad, I need to––”
“Nope!” Viktor steers Yuuri to the couch. “No work! Seung Gil’s orders.”
Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “Since when have you listened to Seung Gil?”
Viktor rolls his eyes and gently pushes Yuuri until he’s sitting down.
“Rest,” he instructs. Yuuri concedes.
“I was doing some reading, and the internet says that you should drink something called gat-or-rad? It’s supposed to help you.”
Yuuri smiles, mildly amused. “You mean Gatorade?”
“Yes! Gatorade! It’s supposed to have electrolytes in it. I already emailed Seung Gil to ask him to write you a prescription.”
“Oh, Vitya, you’re so cute.” Yuuri’s eyes twinkle like the night sky as he tries to hold in laughter. “You don’t need a prescription for Gatorade. It’s a sports drink.”
“Oh.” Viktor scrambles back to scroll through the notes he’d written on his datapad. He’s a little flustered. How could he look over the important fact that Gatorade is a sports drink? “Of course, of course. I knew that.”
“It honestly amazes me how many Earth things fly over your head,” Yuuri says, smirking. “You spent time on Earth, while we were at the Academy. Were you just not paying attention?”
“The only thing I paid attention to on Earth was you, solnyshko.” Viktor grins, completely aware that he’s being cheesey but not caring at all. Yuuri blushes. Or maybe he’s just red because of the fever? Viktor hums thoughtfully.
“Do you want an ice pack? You’re looking a little warm. Webmd says that ice is good for cooling down fevers.”
“Do I need a prescription for ice, too?” Yuuri teases.
Viktor pouts. He opens his mouth to reply, but Yuuri cuts him off with a loud string of coughs, causing his entire body to shake. Viktor rushes to his side.
“Are you okay? Breathe with me. I can run a humidifier if it’ll help you breathe better? Yuuri?”
“I’m okay, Vitya.” Yuuri coughs a little more. He waves Viktor off. “Really. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? Because I read that––”
“Vitya. I’m okay.”
Viktor bites his lip. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. And I know I just woke up, but I want to take another nap. You look like you could use some sleep, too.” Yuuri hauls himself off the couch and wraps his arms around Viktor’s middle, walking him backwards into the bedroom. Viktor melts into the hug and lets himself be led. “You can tell me all about what Webmd says about measles in the morning. Sleep.”
They curl up in bed. Yuuri is out within seconds, snoring softly with his head pillowed on Viktor’s chest.
Viktor waits until he’s sure he’s asleep before he pulls out his datapad and goes back to researching.
It takes Viktor a couple of days to slowly become aware of the fact that he’s being… annoying.
Seung Gil is the first person to say it bluntly. Viktor goes down to his office every morning to get him to check up on Yuuri’s condition and to ask for tips on how to best care for him. By the third day, Seung Gil is threatening to resign.
“Captain, I don’t want to be blunt, but––”
“You? Blunt?” Viktor gasps sarcastically. Seung Gil glares.
“If you ask me one more question about the benefits of moisturizing face masks, I’m going to lock Yuuri in the medbay for quarantine and not let you see him for a week.”
Viktor pales. “An entire week?”
“One hundred and sixty-eight hours,” Seung Gil says firmly. “Go bother Minami. He has a medical degree, too.”
Viktor facetimes Yuuri’s mom that night.
“Vicchan!” she greets him. She’s holding her datapad too close to her face, which makes the hologram appear squashed and distorted. Viktor is hopelessly charmed.
“Okaasan!”
“You look tired, Vicchan.” Hiroko frowns. “Is Yuuri taking care of you? He’s always so wrapped up in his work. Tell him that I’ll stop sending him socks if he doesn’t take care of you!”
Viktor’s smile falters. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Okaasan, Yuuri is sick.”
Hiroko freezes up. “Sick? With what? Are you on your way back to Earth?”
“It’s measles,” Viktor says. “Seung Gil–– our doctor–– says he’ll be fine.”
Hiroko’s frown deepens. “You should come back home.”
“We can’t,” Viktor sighs. “We’re in deep space. And Seung Gil says it’ll clear up in the next two weeks. I just wanted to know what Yuuri’s favorite comfort foods are.”
Hiroko’s entire face softens. She smiles warmly at him. “Aw, Vicchan. You’re so sweet.”
“I love him,” Viktor says quietly. Hiroko beams.
“I know.”
She spends the next two hours going back and forth between giving Viktor recipes and telling him funny stories from when Yuuri was younger. About halfway through the call, she busts out Yuuri’s baby photos. Viktor begs her to send them to him and she agrees on the condition that he and Yuuri come back to visit her before the year ends. Viktor agrees instantly.
He can’t wait to introduce her to his mom. Katya Nikiforov and Hiroko Katsuki could probably take over the universe together and no one would complain.
“Vicchan,” Hiroko says, right before Viktor ends the call, “I’m glad you and Yuuri found each other.”
“Me, too,” Viktor replies. “Me, too.”
Viktor is a good captain.
(Even that is an understatement. He doesn’t like to brag, but there’s a reason they’re calling him the next Captain Kirk.)
Viktor is good at compartmentalizing. He’s good at leading. He’s good at knowing exactly what every member of the crew is doing and what they should all do in an emergency. Viktor is the second person to ever beat the no-win Kobayashi Maru scenario, and he didn’t even need to cheat. He’s a good captain.
But he’s a better captain with Yuuri by his side. And Yuuri is sick right now, which means that Viktor is at best a good captain, and at worst mediocre. The crew has certainly taken notice, even if none of them will say anything outright. Chris keeps subtly hinting that Viktor should take the week off and leave him in charge. Little Yura is leaving Viktor passive aggressive instant messages on his datapad. Even Phichit is tired of Viktor constant asking him for advice on.
Viktor knows for a fact that Yuuri is the most annoyed with him. He’s snappier and less affectionate. Viktor knows that it’s partially his fault for hovering so much, but it still stings a little. He can’t help it. He’s worried.
Yuuri is, without a doubt, the strongest, most capable Starfleet officer in the entire galaxy. Viktor has personally witnessed him launching himself over rock ledges. He’s seen Yuuri negotiate two planets out of war in under thirty minutes. Yuuri has stared down the barrel of a phaser and talked his way out of the situation, before flipping the hostile onto the ground and pinning him in one fluid motion.
Yet he’s bedridden by what is essentially a lump of DNA inside a glycoprotein shell. Miniscule. Not even worthy to occupy the same space as Yuuri.
If Viktor could punch a virus, he would.
He tries not to be too irritating, but it all comes to a head on the fifth shift Viktor skips to stay in their room and take care of Yuuri.
“Yuuri!” Viktor calls out, struggling to get through the door with all his bags in hand. The door swished shut behind him, clipping a bag and sending the contents tumbling to the floor.
“Oh, quiznack!”
Viktor is hurriedly picking up the fallen items when Yuuri shuffles into the living room. Viktor abandons the groceries on the floor.
“Solnyshko, how are you feeling?” Viktor cups Yuuri’s face, feeling his fever-warmed skin. He kisses his forehead and readjusts the blanket draped around Yuuri’s shoulders.
“I’m okay,” Yuuri says flatly. He nods at the bags. “What are those?”
“I stopped by the medbay and the cafeteria.” Viktor makes no move to pick up his stuff. He continues to fuss with Yuuri’s blanket. “Are you sure you’re okay? You feel a little warm.”
“It’s a fever, Vitya, of course I’m warm.”
“Right. Okay, I was going to make some soup. Do you like soup? Let me go make some.” Viktor begins to pick up his fallen groceries.
“I don’t need soup.”
“What kind of soup do you want? I picked up some chicken from because I read that it’s traditional on Earth to eat chicken soup when you’re sick, but I can make something else?”
“I don’t want soup, Vitya.”
“Are you sure? It’ll make you feel better. I can go back and get some miso from the cafeteria if you don’t want me to cook?”
“Vitya.” Yuuri gets to his feet. “No soup. I’m not hungry. Actually, I think I might go down to the lab and––”
“Lab?” Viktor frowns. “No. You’re not supposed to work, you’re sick. You need to rest.”
“I’ve been resting,” Yuuri huffs. “Honestly, this whole sickness thing isn’t a big deal. I’m already behind on work.”
“You’re sick,” Viktor repeats, trying to hid the slightly manic note in his voice. Yuuri is pacing around the room now, gathering up his bag and his datapad. There’s no way he’s going to let Yuuri go down to the lab. What if he has a coughing fit and accidentally inhales poisonous fumes? What if he passes out and knocks a shelf of acid onto himself? “Yuuri, you can’t work, you’re sick.”
“Vitya! I’m fine!” As soon as he says this, Yuuri dissolves into a fit of coughs.
“You’re not. Just––” Viktor sighs, frustrated. “Why don’t you lay down for a little. You look so tired, solnyshko.”
“I’m not that fragile,” Yuuri insists. “I know my limits when I’m sick. I’ve done this before.”
“I haven’t!”
Yuuri stops. Viktor takes his hand and leads him to the couch, pushing him to sit and kneeling in front of him.
“I’ve never seen you this sick before. I’ve never seen anyone this sick.” Viktor presses a kiss to Yuuri’s knuckles. “It’s scary.”
“It’s just a––”
“It’s not just anything!” Viktor rests his chin on Yuuri’s knees, looking up at him. “Let me put it this way: no one ever got sick on the Artemis space station. Every human on board was genetically planned. Even the non-human people–– my mom, Yakov, most of the crew–– they never got sick.”
“Never?”
“Never. My only experience with disease is what we read in textbooks back in the Academy.”
“Vitya, those are worse case scenarios. They put the worst pictures in textbooks to scare people,” Yuuri says. “I’m fine. I’m not even that sick.”
“I’ve never seen a sick person before,” he explains, desperately hoping that Yuuri understands and doesn’t push him away again, “and I don’t really know what to do. I just want to make you feel better.”
Yuuri’s gaze softens. He pulls Viktor up to sit on the couch next to him.
“I got sick a lot, as a child,” Yuuri says, tangling their hands together. He’s so warm, but not in the pleasant way that Viktor usually associates with Yuuri. He’s too warm, feverish. It makes Viktor feel worse. “My parents would worry a lot. I felt bad that they would spend so much money on medicine for me. Mari kept telling me that it wasn’t my fault, but it was hard to believe that. Especially when she started picking up extra shifts at the onsen to make up for it.”
“And all my… fussing reminded you of when you’d get sick as a kid?” Viktor asks. Yuuri nods.
“Sorry for being so defensive.” He smiles at Viktor hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“And I didn’t mean to make you feel weak.” Viktor snuggles in closer to him. “I’m just–– I’m so worried. I don’t know what I’d do without you, solnyshko.”
“You’re right, who would do the paperwork?” Yuuri jokes.
Viktor laughs weakly. “Okay, but seriously. Yuuri, you mean so much to me. You’ve taught me so much, and you’ve shared so much and I––”
Viktor gets too choked up to finish.
“Vitya, don’t cry,” Yuuri cups his face gently. Yuuri is so gentle with him, always. Viktor wants to spend the rest of his life repaying that gentleness. “Please, don’t cry.”
“I just love you so much,” Viktor says wetly. He buries his face in Yuuri’s shoulder, trying his best to wrap himself around him. He wants to make the universe a safer place for Yuuri, just like how Yuuri makes Viktor’s universe infinitely brighter just by being in it. He didn’t even know he could feel this deeply until he met Yuuri. “I love you.”
“Vitya.”
There’s so much love and warmth in Yuuri’s voice that Viktor starts crying harder. It might be the stress of trying to take care of him while also trying not to ignore his captain duties or it might be just raw emotion, but Viktor cries harder than he’s ever in his entire life. Yuuri holds him through it, cooing and brushing his hair back. It takes him a while, but eventually Viktor realizes that Yuuri is repeating “I love you, too” over and over again, his voice like the soothing melody of a song.
Eventually, Viktor calms down. He pulls back a little and blinks up at Yuuri with puffy eyes.
“Hi,” he says shyly. Yuuri smiles down at him, shining infinitely.
“Hey there,” he says softly. “Do you feel better?”
Viktor nods. He sits up fully, giving Yuuri a once over. “I’m okay, are you? I just kind of collapsed on you.”
“It was nice, like a warm blanket,” Yuuri says. Viktor chuckles.
“So, we’re okay?” Viktor asks. Yuuri smiles back, warm and bright like the sun.
“We’re okay.”
Next week, Viktor gets sick with some sort of rare flu that only affects half-Siren, half-human people. Yuuri frets.
Seung Gil is not getting paid enough to deal with them.