Angel

Chapter 1

"I think she said his name was Yuri."

Viktor's smile got even wider. "That's my favorite name."

Yuuri rolled his eyes but blushed all the same. "He's – he's three." The words cut through his dreamy state with sharp realization. "He's three! We said no younger than eight, but he's three! Oh no." Their house wasn't ready for a three-year-old. They lived in a two-story town house filled with plenty of dangers a little boy could get into. "Viktor, we can't do this!" Yuuri cried desperately. "Nothing is baby proofed! What if he falls and hits his head on the coffee table? Or plays with the stove? We don't have any of those plastic thingies for the outlets. He could electrocute himself!"

"Calm down, my love," Viktor crooned happily, taking his husband by the shoulders. "Everything will be fine, I promise you. He's a toddler, not a wild animal. And we'll be with him to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. We'll baby proof tomorrow."

"But he's coming here now!" Yuuri wailed. "We're not ready!"

Viktor blinked in surprise, but his smile stayed just as bright. "All the more reason to baby proof tomorrow."

"How are you not freaking out?" Yuuri demanded. Viktor's serenity was frustrating him. How on earth could he be so calm when a toddler was going to be moving in with them within the hour? They both liked kids, yes, but children had always been in the abstract for them, and now they had a very real flesh-and-blood child on the way.

But Viktor simply patted Yuuri's cheek and said "Because my lovely husband is nice enough to freak out for the both of us. Come on. Let's get a room ready."

By the time their doorbell rang half an hour later, Yuuri had worked himself into such a state that he felt a heart attack could be a real possibility in the very near future. They didn't have any kid food! What if he didn't like Japanese food, or worse, had an allergy? How would they get him to eat? What if he fell down the stairs? Or tried to run away? What if he didn't like them? What if, what if, what if. He answered the door and tried to ignore the perspiration he could feel beading on his forehead and under his arms.

"Mrs. Lodovskya?" The woman at the door nodded curtly. "Please, come in."

"I'm Viktor," the other man introduced himself, all smiles. "You spoke to my Yuuri on the phone. We were so pleased to get your call. Can I get you anything? Some tea or some coffee perhaps?"

"No, thank you," Mrs. Lodovskya replied. Her graying hair was slightly disheveled, and she had a buildup of blue eyeliner in the creases of her eyelids. She carried a small blue duffel bag in one hand, scarcely the size of Yuuri's gym bag, but Yuuri took no notice of these things, his eyes fixed on the child she held against her hip.

Yuri had his face buried in this case worker's shoulder, hiding it from view. His silvery gold hair was long for a boy, but it was fine and shiny. He wore a puffy green coat that made him look a bit like a moldy marshmallow and thick white socks. He had no shoes.

"This must be Yuri," Viktor said, pulling Yuuri from his thoughts.

"Yes," Mrs. Lodovskya said with a tired smile. "Yuri Plisetsky. Can you say hi, Yuri?" She bounced the boy in her arms, but he stayed quiet. "He's a little shy," the social worker apologized.

"So is my Yuuri," Viktor smiled warmly. "It must be a Yuri thing."

The woman smiled back at him. "I packed some of his things." She indicated the duffel bag Viktor had taken from her. "Clothes, mostly. A couple toys, and diapers of course."

"Diapers?" Yuuri asked, finding his voice again. "He's not potty trained yet?"

"No." Mrs. Lodovskya's smile turned grim. "Did I not mention that? Is that going to be a problem?"