Yuri swiped at his running nose as he left the ice skating rink. He swore loudly, just because no one was around to tell him not to, and hitched his duffle bag higher on his shoulder. Saint Petersburg was cold at night, especially so late in the winter.

He stepped off the curb and crossed the empty street. Walking across the city to get to his apartment didn't sound remotely appealing, but the busses had stopped running hours ago and Yuri didn't have much of a choice. He couldn't even call anyone to pick him up because he wasn't even supposed to still be here. Skating alone late at night was against the rules. Even for the Olympic skaters.

"Pace yourself or you'll break yourself," Katsuki had said earlier, chirping his annoying opinion from across the rink, "that's what my mom always says."

Yuri had scowled and continued skating anyways. He hadn't won any gold medals by "pacing himself" and wasn't going to start trying. He didn't have time to follow the rules and take a break. He needed to be better and he needed it fast.

While Yuri couldn't say he regretted staying at the rink longer, he definitely couldn't deny that it would be nice to be in his warm apartment. He was cold, and his entire body ached with exhaustion.

"Hey lady! Give us a smile!"

If he could just be in a warm shower right now. Then he could curl up in bed with his cat and finally just go to sleep.

"C'mon, don't ignore us!"

Maybe he could heat up some ramen and actually have something to eat before midnight. Yuri checked his phone. Dammit. It was eleven forty-five. He would need to hurry if he wanted to even get to his street before twelve.

"Hey!"

A large hand suddenly wrapped around Yuri's arm and swung him around, knocking his phone out of his hand. He came face to face with a tall, dark-haired teenager- someone Yuri might have gone to school with if he weren't privately tutored.

"What the hell do you want?"

The teen dropped Yuri's arm and recoiled violently, "Wait a minute, you're not a lady!" His voice was slurred and Yuri could smell alcohol on his breath.

"No shit, Sherlock," Yuri growled. He turned around sharply, only to run into another boy. This one was closer to Yuri's height, but still twice as thick. A cigarette hung from his lips.

"Why's your hair so long, lady-boy?" He taunted, reaching out to run a strand of Yuri's hair through his rough fingers. Yuri had to suppress a shiver.

"Looks better than your mop," he hissed, sounding a lot braver than he felt.

Two hands grabbed his shoulders from behind, and he was shoved into the boy with the cigarette. The guy's coat reeked of smoke and booze. Yuri jumped away quickly, but not before the taller boy managed to pry his duffle bag away from him.

"You got anything valuable in here?"

Yuri made a grab for the bag, but he held it out of reach. There were valuable things in there. Not only was his wallet in the side pocket, but his skates were expensive enough to pay Dedushka's rent for half a year.

"Give it back!"

He laughed, "Make me."

No one could claim Yuri didn't have one hell of a right-hook. The crack of the boy's nose breaking echoed through the empty street. He screamed and dropped the bag to clap a hand over his face. Yuri dove for it.

Yuri was a better fighter than his slim frame would suggest, but he didn't stand a chance against two older boys. He curled around his duffel bag protectively as blows rained down on him from either side. A steel-toed boot made contact with his hip, and he yelped in pain.

He was going to die.

These two drunk kids were going to kill him.

He pressed his eyes closed as the boys tore off his jacket. Fists pounded at his body, and before he knew it, he was being thrown across the sidewalk. Snow bit into his bare arms and the hard stone pavement dug into his back.

Footsteps.

Yelling.

More footsteps.

Silence.

Yuri cracked an eye open. He was alone. Footprints and an ugly splatter of blood were the only signs that the older two boys had ever been there. He turned on his side, and worked his arm underneath him to try and sit up, but his entire body screamed in sudden pain. Bile filled his throat and he threw up onto the icy road.

Involuntary tears filled his eyes, burning white hot against his numb cheeks.

He was being stupid.

He needed to stop being a crybaby and just get up.

Pure willpower forced Yuri upright and fire filled his chest, wedging between his ribs like a knife. A second puddle of vomit quickly joined the first.

He was going to freeze to death on this stupid street corner.

Yuri wiped at his mouth with a trembling arm. God, could he get any more pathetic? All he wanted was to be safe at home in his apartment, but he wasn't stupid enough to think he could drag himself all the way there in this state. As much as he hated to admit it, he really needed some help.

A faint light suddenly shone through the dark, accompanied by a soft ping. Yuri's phone was lying miraculously untouched in the snow, his Instagram notifications displayed clearly underneath the time.

Yuri dove for the device, a mortifying yelp of pain escaping his lips, and in seconds he had it unlocked and open to the phone pad. He didn't realize what his fingers were doing before Viktor's number was typed in and he couldn't even stop his thumb from jamming itself into the green call button.

The dial tone played.

Dammit Yuri, what are you doing?

A silent second passed.

It's past midnight, why are you calling him of all people?

A second dial tone.

He's not going to pick up anyways.

Half a second, then-

"Yurio? It's a past your bedtime isn't it? Little kids shouldn't be up this late."

Yuri didn't think he'd ever be so relieved to hear the stupid geezer's condescending voice and that stupid damn nickname. His throat closed off as more tears streamed down his face. He had been jumped. How the hell was he going to admit to Viktor he had been jumped?

"Yurio? Are you there?"

"Vik… Viktor," Yuri's voice cracked halfway through the name and he mentally kicked himself for sounding so pathetic. So much for pretending everything was fine.

"Are you alright?" Viktor's voice rose in concern, and Yuri hissed out a swear, "Yurio what's going on?"

"I need you to pick me up."

"Why? Are you hurt? It's late, you should be at home. Does Yakov know you're out?"

"Are you going to pick me up or not?" Yuri growled, growing impatient. His head was throbbing and his hands were shaking so hard he could barely keep a grip on his phone, "Just tell me so I can call someone else."

"Of course I am," Viktor sounded offended Yuri would even ask, "where are you?"

Yuri's heart skipped a beat. He froze as his head tried to catch up with the words on the phone. Viktor was really going to come pick him up? At this hour?

"Yuri, where are you?"

The shocking use of his actual name numbed Yuri's pain for a moment, and he realized that he had no idea where he was. He had to be somewhere between the rink and his apartment. Looking around dizzily, he couldn't make out any recognizable landmarks.

"Uhh, give me a second." He staggered to his feet, leaning heavily against the building behind him.

"Viktor? What's going on?" Yuri could hear Katsuki's dumb voice from across the line.

"I don't know."

Yuri finally caught sight of something familiar, "I'm across the street from that cafe… the one you can walk to from the rink."

"Alright. We'll be there in a minute."

We'll be there. Of course he was bringing his stupid fiance with him. He couldn't just come pick Yuri up and drop him off at his apartment. He had to make a big deal out of it.

"Hurry up, geezer. I don't have all night," Yuri hissed, then hung up the phone. The resulting silence almost made him wish he hadn't. Almost.

He wiped at his face, trying to dry off the tears. Yuri knew he was an ugly crier, and he sure as hell didn't want either of the damn lovebirds seeing him bawl like a baby. His sleeve was rough against his skin, and his fingers each felt like they had swollen to twice their size.

Maybe he could just hide his face with his hair and avoid all questioning. Would they believe he'd been at a party or something? Probably not. Viktor didn't know how to mind his own fucking business, and while Yuuri could usually be subdued with a fierce glare, it was getting harder and harder to intimidate the older man. For some reason he had decided that the younger Yuri was cute.

Not cute. Yuri was a badass. He didn't need to be treated like a child. He could take care of himself. Katsuki just wasn't getting the memo.

"Oh my god, Yurio!"

Speak of the devil and he shall come.

"Oh god, oh my god," there was a slam of a car door, and the other Yuuri's face was suddenly bobbing in Yuri's field of vision, "You're hurt, oh my god, there's blood."

Yuri remembered warm blood gushing from the tall guy's nose, dripping all over his fist and splattering to the ground. "It's not mine," he mumbled, trying to swat the older skater away. It didn't work. Before he knew it, Yuuri's blue coat was draped over his shoulders. His body heat still clung to the fabric.

"Does he need a doctor?" Viktor's face was sheet white as he climbed from the driver's seat, "Should we take him to the hospital?"

"If I wanted to go to the hospital then I would have called an ambulance, idiot." Going to the hospital meant probation from the ice, it meant Yakov would call Dedushka, it meant everyone was going to yell at him for being stupid enough to try and walk home in the dark.

"Can you get in the car?"

Yuri scowled, "Of course I can get in the damn car, I'm fine." His words were much less convincing when he tried to step away from the wall and his leg collapsed out from under him.

Yuuri grabbed his shoulders to steady him, "Careful, Yurio!"

Two hands grabbed his shoulders from behind and shoved.

Yuri pulled away, "I'm fine!"

"What are you even doing out this late?" Viktor asked. His expression was cold and serious for once. Yuri winced, and kept his eyes firmly trained on the ground.

There was a pause, then… "Oh my god, you were at the rink weren't you?" Of course Katsuki would be the one to figure it out.

Viktor's gaze snapped down to Yuri's duffle bag on the ground, then back to Yuri. He looked livid. "You were practicing alone? Yurio! You know how dangerous that is!"

Yuri's eyes started to sting again. He wished he could just melt into the pavement and disappear. It was taking all his willpower not to just burst into tears in front of his two idols.

"What if you fell on the ice and no one was there to help you? Have you been practicing this whole time? You were supposed to go home hours ago! You can't improve your skating if you're destroying your body to do it!"

Yuri was starting to cry again, and he let his hair fall in front of his face to hide it. He was horrified to realize that he had gotten vomit in the ends. He didn't think he'd ever been so humiliated in his life.

"Viktor, that's enough." Yuuri's voice was hardly louder than the rumble of the car, but Viktor immediately stopped yelling. He reached down to pick Yuri's duffle bag, then propped himself against the injured boy's side, "Let's take him home."

Viktor frowned, but didn't argue. He climbed back into the driver's seat as his fiance helped Yuri into the back. To Yuri's surprise, Yuuri didn't join Viktor up front, but planted himself in the seat next to him.

"Are you alright? Can you tell me where it hurts?"

Yuri just shook his head, not trusting his voice. Tears stung against his cold cheeks, but he didn't dare try to wipe them away while Yuuri was watching. Instead he clutched Yuuri's coat tighter around him and shivered.

Yuuri reached out to brush Yuri's hair out of his face.

Why's your hair so long, lady-boy?

Yuri flinched sharply and Yuuri froze, his hand still hanging inches away from Yuri's face. He hesitated, then reached out again. This time Yuri didn't flinch, but he tensed as Yuuri's gentle fingers brushed over a particularly painful part of his forehead.

"Oh, Yura…"

Yuri looked away. He couldn't stand seeing the pity behind those stupid glasses, it was easier to glare out the window. He watched as Viktor made a turn in the opposite direction of Yuri's street.

"Where are you going? My apartment's that way."

Viktor adjusted the rear-view window to fix Yuri with a level stare, "We're not going to your apartment."

"What?"

"You're hurt. We're not going to leave you alone."

Yuuri turned to him and smiled, like he was actually helping, and said, "You can stay with us for tonight."

All the air in the car vanished. Yuri couldn't breathe. "No," he said, but instead of a demand, it came out breathless and small, "I want to go home."

Suddenly all the little tears were turning into bigger tears and Yuri was gasping for air. Viktor and Yuuri looked just as horrified as Yuri felt. He buried his face in his hands, but didn't miss the 'what do we do?' look Viktor was giving his fiance.

"Shhh, it's okay. It'll be alright." Yuuri's arms were suddenly wrapped around Yuri's shoulders, and he was pulling him close.

Yuri's sobs grew louder. He was covered in blood, vomit, and dried sweat. His own mother wouldn't touch him in such a state (wouldn't touch him in any state), and yet this stupid skater was only holding him tighter.

The car came to a stop outside Yuuri and Viktor's building, but none of them moved to get out. None of them moved at all. Yuri, who ran at the threat of an embrace, let himself be coddled by Yuuri as Viktor watched them with a stupid dopey look on his face.

It wasn't until Yuri finally regained control of his breathing that Yuuri spoke. "Do you want us to stay at your place tonight? Viktor and I could get some things then stay over if you want?"

Yuri thought about his messy apartment. He didn't think there would even be a place for them to sleep. He thought about Viktor and Yuuri leaving in the middle of the night to pick him up, and immediately offering him a place to stay in their home. He thought about them debating whether or not to call a doctor. He thought about Viktor yelling at him for doing something dangerous, despite having broken the same rules dozens of times himself.

He shook his head, "It's okay, I'll stay here."

"Are you sure?"

Yuri nodded. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, then winced as he realized he was doing so on Yuuri's jacket.

"Let's go inside and get you cleaned up then," Viktor opened his door, and a rush of cold air flooded the car, "we can talk in the morning."

Somehow even the threat of punishment for skating after hours couldn't shake him from the sleepy lull Yuri had worked himself into, and he let himself be led inside.

He wasn't going home like he wanted to, but in the end, maybe he was.

Notes: Yuri's pretty shaken up, but don't worry, he'll be back to his old self after a good nights sleep!

I haven't actually seen Yuri! On Ice in a while, but I recently remembered just how much I love Yurio and had to write something. I might add a second part if you guys like it.

Title is from Gabrielle Aplin's "Home".

Reviews would be great.