They go through fertility problems before finally getting a pregnancy that sticks, can we have the story of when they discover that Yuuri's pregnant with Irina? (Have you done this one already I haven't seen it, sorry if you have, love your stories!)
Whispers I’ve been waiting for this ask.
So as mentioned before, Yuuri retires from skating at twenty-eight and begins coaching and choreographing with Viktor. Because their desire to have children is a big part of the reason why Yuuri retired, they start trying to have a child right away. This would probably be late March, after Worlds. By early May, one of Yuuri’s pregnancy tests comes back positive.
Unfortunately, at Yuuri’s first ultrasound, they can’t find a heartbeat. (I wrote a long-ass scene to do with this but then I pretty much realized that it was full of medical gibberish and crying and probably very boring, so I left that out)
The miscarriage happens in June–and it takes awhile before Yuuri’s hormones are back to normal, in part due to stress. This is a great contributing factor to their conception problems.
In December, Yuuri is almost sure he’s pregnant. For Viktor’s birthday, one of Viktor’s gifts is a gift-wrapped pregnancy test.
“Have you taken it?” Viktor asks, and he’s holding it in shaking hands.
“Not yet,” says Yuuri. “I was thinking we could–it would be a nice gift, if we found out together.”
Then it comes out negative. And Yuuri cries.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri sobs into his pillow on their bed, curled up into a little ball with Viktor trying to wrap as much of himself around him as possible. “I ruined your birthday. It was a stupid idea, I should have just taken it by myself and not disappointed you. I’m sorry.”
“I thought it was a lovely gesture,” Viktor whispers against his shoulder blade. “I love you, you know.”
“I ruined your birthday,” Yuuri sniffs again.
“The night isn’t over, yet,” Viktor tells him.
They go out and get pretty extravagantly drunk. It’s probably not the wisest course of action, but it’s better than sitting at home, staring at the four walls and crying.
In February, Yuuri sits Viktor down and says, “Maybe we should take a break. Just for a little while.”
Viktor closes his eyes, sighs, and nods. Because he loves Yuuri, and he knows how tired they both are.
(But a little voice in the back of his mind is saying Lilia and Yakov said they were taking a break, too. And that break lasted twenty years. And then it was too late.)
They go out for White Day, which they enjoy celebrating despite not living in Japan at the moment, and when they go to bed after a nice dinner and some dancing, Yuuri realizes that some sort of…pressure has been lifted.
“That was fun,” Yuuri whispers to Viktor afterwards, head on his chest and palm against his belly.
“Mmm, one can only hope,” Viktor murmurs back, and laughs into Yuuri’s hair. “Isn’t sex supposed to be fun?”
“It hasn’t been, though,” Yuuri whispers. “Not for awhile.”
Viktor, almost contemplative, brushes Yuuri’s hair behind his ear and kisses his forehead. “Maybe we’ve been putting too much pressure on ourselves,” he says, and reaches over to turn out the bedside light.
A month and some change later, Yuuri is standing in at store with his phone out, staring at his grocery list. He accidentally flips to his calendar app, where he’s been keeping careful track of all his various cycles, and realizes something.
He counts backwards six times, grocery basket forgotten next to him in the aisle. Someone actually taps his shoulder to ask if he’s alright, because the look on his face must be similar to that of someone who’s seen a ghost.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he mumbles vaguely, and all but runs to the family planning aisle.
“Yuuri?” Viktor asks, when he comes in the door without so much as a hello. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine!” Yuuri calls. “I just–I need to go to the bathroom! Sorry!” He drops all his other purchases on the island counter and books it to the bathroom, more or less slamming the door behind him. He hears Makkachin whimper at the door for him.
“Oh, that’s…that’s fine.” He hears Viktor going through the bags in the kitchen. “Did you get onions?”
Yuuri doesn’t really answer, since he’s so busy peeing into a cup–Viktor’s drinking cup, unfortunately. He dips every test he bought–eight tests of four different brands, because he is Viktor Nikiforov’s husband and being over-the-top is kind of the Nikiforov MO, also because he is not fucking around–and lines them up neatly on the counter, then tries not to hyperventilate as he sits on the edge of the bathtub and waits for the tests to develop.
Viktor knocks on the door. “Kitten? You forgot beets. And half the other things on the list. I’m not complaining, just–is everything okay?”
“Um–just–just give me a minute!” One of the tests is starting to fade in–he knocks two others onto the floor in his hurry to grab it.
One pink line. His heart drops, and he drops with it–sinking onto the floor.
“Yuuri? Are you sick?” Viktor jiggles the doorknob. “Sweetheart? Can you talk to me?”
Yuuri, still vibrating with adrenaline, leans over and unlocks the bathroom door. “You can come in,” he murmurs, not even bothering to hide the despondency in his voice.
Viktor nudges the door open gently, and Yuuri can tell that he knows what’s happened the moment he sees Yuuri sitting on the bathroom floor surrounded by pregnancy tests.
“Oh, Kitten,” Viktor murmurs, hunkering down on the floor with him.
“I’m late,” Yuuri tells him, sniffing. “So I thought–I don’t know, I shouldn’t have even–but I thought maybe…”
Viktor sighs, and gathers the tests that fell on the floor–a pair of expensive ones, with the digital display. He glances at them and clicks his tongue, then does a double take. And a triple take.
“Yuuri,” he says carefully. “Did you look at all of them?”
“No,” Yuuri sniffs, swiping the tears of his cheeks somewhat fiercely. “I didn’t want to–to see all of them say negative.”
“Yuuri.” Viktor sets the two digital tests in front of him, and then reaches up to the counter to retrieve the other five. He lines them all up in a careful line.
Pregnant. Blue plus sign. Blue plus sign. The word YES–
“Oh my God,” Yuuri says, searching through them. “Oh my God. Viktor.”
“Where’s the negative one?” Viktor asks, eyes roving frantically along the floor.
“Here.” Yuuri hands it to him, shaking now for a totally different reason.
Viktor holds it close to his face, and if Yuuri didn’t already know that that man loved him he would have at that moment–you have to love someone to willingly put something with their pee on it that close to your face.
“Look, look.” Viktor holds it out to him, and points to the spot where there might be a very, very faint pink line. “It’s early yet. It’s faint, but it’s there. They’re all positive. Eight positives. Yuuri. Yuuri.”
“Oh my God.” Yuuri presses his face into his hands. “Oh my God. Viktor, oh my God.”
“I know!” Viktor brushes his hair back, kisses the side of his head. “I know! Yuuri, oh baby, please don’t cry. Shh, don’t cry.”
“I’m crying because I’m happy!” Yuuri wails, feeling ridiculous with tears streaming down his face, a grown man huddled on a bathroom floor just sobbing his eyes out.
Come to think, this might be Yuuri’s first happy bathroom cry.
“We’re going to have a baby,” Viktor coos to him, head resting on his shoulder.
Yuuri wrings a hand, hiccuping. “What if I–”
“Don’t,” Viktor says. “Don’t think about that. Remember what the doctor said? Most people go on to have perfectly normal pregnancies after a miscarriage.”
“But I’ve been having so much trouble–”
“That was stress. And hormones. And maybe other things, but it doesn’t matter now because you are. You are pregnant. There are eight tests here telling me that you’re going to have my baby–and I have complete faith that they’re right.”
Yuuri stares at him, eye still swimming in tears. He sways forward until their foreheads are pressed together, and grabs Viktor’s hand to push it up underneath his shirt, pressed warm against his belly.
“Who should we tell?” he murmurs.
“Let’s keep it to ourselves, for now,” Viktor whispers back. “You know me, Yuuri. I’m Russian. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t tell anyone until your water broke.”
Yuuri, who a year ago thought Russian pregnancy superstitions were pretty extreme, can’t disagree with him.
When Yuuri announces to his and Viktor’s students and he won’t be skating for awhile, the look Lilia gives him across the rink is disturbing levels of all-knowing, but Yuuri figures that it doesn’t really jinx anything if the person figures it out themselves–and has as-yet undiscovered superpowers aiding them.
“I think Lilia just smiled at me,” he whispers to Viktor as he leans against the boards, watching their students warm up.
“Pregnancy brain,” Viktor tells him gravely, but there’s a joviality to his voice that’s hard to miss.