#brotayuri

Leaning back against the tree, Otabek crossed his arms over his chest,smiling fondly at Yuri. They had gone for a ride on his motorcycle, heading outof the streets of the city into the foothills of Almaty. Otabek had steeredthem to the small stretch of secluded road, the stretch that was still pavedand wide enough to provide a safe surface for a few lessons. JJ had startedmaking comments at their last competition about Yuri riding on the back of Otabek’s bike, heavilyimplying that Yuri wouldn’t be able to handle the powerful engine on his own.By the third comment, Yuri had dragged Otabek towards his chest with a tightfist bawling the front of Otabek’s t-shirt, demanding through gritted teeth that Otabek teach him to ride.

Otabek had been hesitant at first, the motorcycle being the product of yearsof saving and careful maintenance to keep it running in top condition. Hetrusted Yuri, but the chance for impulsive behavior could lead to potentialinjury. He would sacrifice the bike, but letting Yuri possibly hurt himself andaffect his career was not an option.

Two months into the off-season, during Yuri’s second visit to Almaty, Otabekfinally caved. The urge to wrap Yuri in bubble wrap was powerful inside ofOtabek’s mind, biting his tongue on the suggestion in order to not furtherignite the determined fire glowing in Yuri’s eyes. If his best friend wanted toride his bike, Otabek planned to teach him, no matter how nervous it made him.

They had spent the better part of an hour riding along the secluded pathwayand Yuri had showed an impressive amount of skill at the helm of the bike.Otabek had been the one to suggest that Yuri take a solo loop, lifting his legto dismount from the back of the bike. Before Yuri took off, he had pressed hiscell into Otabek’s hand telling him to record the ride directly to hisInstagram. With a quirked eyebrow, Yuri threw a look over his shoulder inOtabek’s direction and a snarky question. “You think you can handle it, Beka?” Ateasing wink was the first moment Otabek caught through the camera lens,rolling his eyes as Yuri set off down the road.

He couldn’t deny how well Yuri controlled the bike, his t-shirt flapping inthe wind and exposing his back to the afternoon sun. Watching closely as Yurireached their established turn-around spot, Otabek hit post on the recordedvideo making sure it loaded and only looking up when he heard a startled curse.In slow motion, he watched Yuri lose control of the bike, dipping it off theside of the road and directly into a deep mud puddle. At a pace rivaled only bya snail covered in glue, Yuri tipped toward the ground, landing beside thebike. Otabek heard the squelch of the mud as Yuri sunk into it, laughing as hebegan to jog down the road.

Extending his hand, Otabek chuckled when Yuri slapped it away. “Don’t needhelp,” Yuri scoffed out, swiping his hand over his cheek and spitting onto theground. He slipped several times as he tried to stand, and Otabek had to bitethe inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. Finally standing up and setting a determined look onhis face, Yuri grabbed the bike handles and tried to pull it free from itsmuddy parking spot.

Back resting on the closest tree, Otabek continued to observe Yuri’s effortsto dislodge the bike. They would have to wash it when they got back to Otabek’splace, and most likely hose Yuri down at the same time. The thought had Otabekchoking on his laughter again, hiding his smile behind his fist. “You think youcan handle it, Yura?” he teased, still struggling to hold back his laughter asYuri lost his footing again.

“Get over here and get this damn thing out!” Yuri cursed, waving a wild handin the direction of the bike as he glared at Otabek. “Not funny,” he remarked,waiting for Otabek to be an arm’s length away from him before lunging out totackle Otabek with his mud-covered body. As soon as they hit the ground, Yuristarted dotting muddy fingerprints over Otabek’s face as Otabek tried to wiggleaway.

Subtly stretching his hand to the edge of the mud puddle, Otabek curled hisfingers, collecting mud and rubbing into directly into Yuri’s hair. He flippedYuri off of him, scrambling to his feet, turning to run. He felt the mudclump hit him in the back, laughter spilling out of him when the thunder ofYuri’s running footsteps began to pursue him.

Twenty minutes later, they were hauling the bike back onto the road, coveredin mud, stomachs and cheeks sore from their hysterical laughter. Holding hishand toward the front of the bike, Otabek nodded toward the first seat. “Driveus home?” he asked the question without challenge or demand. He smiled broaderwhen Yuri eagerly flung himself behind the handle bars, motioning for Otabek toclimb on behind him.

“We need to wash the bike when we get back,” Otabek commented, resting hishands on Yuri’s hips to make sure they were properly balanced.

“If you hand me the hose, I’m coming after you first,” Yuri threatened, thesmile at the corner of his mouth evident as he glanced over his shoulder towardOtabek.

“Hate to break it to you,” Otabek slid himself forward, easing them togetherand tightening his grip on Yuri, “but we are both getting hosed tonight.”

Their laughter whipped away in the wind as Yuri set the bike off at ajarring speed, the mud drying in their hair and on their skin as they madetheir way back into the city.