#fourth day

No matter who says it, though, it’s always Otabek’s duty to keep both their feet on the ground. Yuri’s way more clingy than he makes it appear to stranger’s eyes, and always hesitates when Otabek lets his guard down enough for those words to get past his lips.

“You know I can’t, Yura,” he says, so soft it’s almost a whisper, and Yuri barely catches it over all the chatting and the announcements made through the speakers of Sheremetyevo airport. He doesn’t have to hear it, though, to know what Otabek is saying.

“I know,” he answers, voice low and clearly decayed, but eyes soft and loving fixed on his boyfriend. He smiles that small, downhearted smile reserved for every time they have to say their goodbyes, and Otabek’s heart twists inside his chest.

He can’t help but grab him by the arm and pull him in for a rib-crushing, already longing hug. Yuri immediately wraps his arms around him too, fingers grabbing onto the fabric on his back and pressing their chests together, face going straight to hide on the curve of Otabek’s neck. Otabek nuzzles his hair, breathing in the citric scent of his lover’s shampoo. His hair must smell the same, since they showered together this morning. They stand there by the windows in front of Otabek’s boarding gate, pressed hard against each other, trying to mold their bodies together as much as they can so they don’t forget how it feels during the long months to come. Trying to breath this scent glued to both their bodies, which is the result of being so close the smell of Yuri’s cologne and Otabek’s aftershave have mixed together to create something new, something theirs. They’re aware they keep like that for minutes, but it feels like it’s never enough, and both tense up when the voice coming through the speakers announces the last calling for Otabek’s flight.

“That’s yours,” Yuri mutters after a couple of seconds without them giving any indication of letting go.

Otabek hums and nods, but doesn’t acknowledge it further. He just wants a moment, just a couple more seconds.

They break away just enough to look at each other, hands sliding softly along waists and hips and arms in long caresses. Yuri presses his chest on Otabek’s as their gazes lock, and waits until Otabek carefully pushes his bangs aside to reveal that eye that’s always hidden behind a blond curtain, before leaning up to kiss him. Otabek meets him halfway, leaning down a bit because, no matter how much Yuri’s grown, he’s never managed to top him.

The kiss is longing, deep and a little bit desperate. He’s sure it takes all of Yuri’s willpower to break it, pushing back enough for them to not fall into the temptation of locking lips again.

“You have to go,” Yuri says, voice slightly strained from fighting his true wishes in favor of doing what’s required of him as a responsible adult. Which is letting go of his boyfriend.

Otabek does his part and steps back, grasping his travel bag firmly to find strength somewhere, but keeps looking Yuri in the eye.

“I’ll call you when I land,” he says, because he doesn't want to say ‘goodbye’.

Yuri nods, and stays there with his feet firmly glued to the floor. Otabek knows he won’t go until he sees his back disappear through the door. He himself never leaves the airport until Yuri’s plane takes off.

Finally, Otabek turns around and starts walking to the boarding zone, but after only a few steps Yuri’s voice stops him.

“Wait, Beka!”

He looks back immediately, unlike when he has to turn back to walk away from him.

Yuri’s eyes lock with his the second Otabek turns, and stay fixed there. He looks like he’s trying to get something off his mouth and it’s taking him all he’s got. His lips move, trying to form words, but nothing coherent comes out.

Otabek smiles. This, too, happens every time.

“I’ll miss you too, kitten,” he smiles fondly, and after a moment Yuri returns the smile, a little apologetically but also happy he’s been, once again, understood.

“Go away,” he says with no bite at all, as loving as he can ever be, and the last thing Otabek sees before walking through the doors is his smile.

Yuri stays there for as long as it takes Otabek to text him.

Beka: Already seated. There’s a kid kicking my seat from behind. It’s going to be a long flight.

Yuri chuckles and quickly types back.

You: tell the parents, don't be a pussy

Beka: I’m respectful.

You: the kid isn’t. kick back

Beka: You’re going to get me arrested someday, Yura.

Yuri smiles and shakes his head softly, eyes never leaving the screen. A “...” sign appears, indicating Otabek’s writing.

Beka: I have to turn off the phone. Call you when I get to Almaty.

A short pause.

Beka: I love you, Yura.

You: i love u too, beka. have a nice flight

He sighs, pockets his phone and unglues his back from the wall, starting to walk in the general direction of the exit.

They’ve been dating for almost three years now, but they could never get used to saying goodbye.

True to his words, Otabek calls him right after getting a hold of his suitcase. Yuri can tell he’s still inside the airport and they talk until the moment he gets to his apartment. It’s late, though, around three in the morning in Almaty since they had booked the latest flight they could. Thus, they have to end the call too soon for their liking, since they need to sleep and Yuri has stubbornly stayed awake waiting to hear the ringtone set specifically for his boyfriend. It’s not that late in Moscow, but he has to go back to St. Petersburg soon and that means going back to waking up almost at the crack of dawn to exercise, no possibility of staying up late and sleeping in the next morning, so he needs a good sleep schedule.

Saying goodnight through the phone definitely isn't the same as being able to say it against each other’s skin, but it's the closest thing they have right now and they make do with that.

Yuri wakes up alone in his bed for the first time in a month. He can't help the tears that well up in his eyes at the realization that, fuck , his yearly month-long vacation with his boyfriend is over and there’s an, at least, four months path before they see each other again. It’s awful to be suddenly so alone and the longing, sadness and emptiness comes all crashing down on him, making his chest ache so much it's hard to breathe.

Yuri hugs tightly the pillow Otabek had been using. It smells like him, and that makes it better and worse at the same time. The first morning without him, as he does every time, Yuri lets the emotions take over.

Back in Almaty, Otabek clutches a black t-shirt against his chest, one that Yuri had claimed as his for as long as they were together and smells like the unique scent of the blond’s skin mixed with the soap he uses to wash clothes, and with his eyes closed tightly he tries to pretend he’s still in Moscow, lazing around in bed with his lover.

 • •

They need to be in contact, crave the artificial but welcomed closeness they get from texting and calling and Skyping, and for that very reason there’s an unspoken pact between them: never go to sleep without a call, never start the day without a message. It’s very rare of them to not fulfill that silent promise, as there can be days they hardly have time to text at other times, not to mention call, and in the busy lifestyle they have days can easily grow into weeks.

True to their unending devotion for each other, they fall back into the habit as soon as they're separated. It makes it easier for them to sleep, and they feel better after sending a good morning text or, occasionally, making a morning call, sometimes even Skype. They’re well past the ‘don’t look at me when I just woke up’ phase, and Yuri feels especially proud of himself the days he manages to wake Otabek up with a call, since it’s usually the other way around.

It goes without saying that they can text and call whenever, and the other will answer or pick up if he’s available.

“Are you in bed already?” Yuri asks, sitting cross-legged on his bed with Chopa, his cat, sprawled all over the sheets right in front of him as he pets her.

“I’m putting on my shirt, then I’ll get in bed, ” Otabek sounds a little far away, and Yuri guesses he must have activated the hands-free speaker. Since he lives alone, Otabek doesn’t tell him when he does that at home. It’s not like anyone else will hear, unlike in Yuri’s case, for he hasn’t been able to move from Lilia’s home to his own, though he hopes he will soon.

“You don’t wear a shirt to sleep, you liar,” Yuri accuses, but he knows his tone betrays the amused half smile on his lips.

“I do, it’s just with you that I don’t. Because you won’t let me,” Otabek seems to find the accusation quite funny too.

There’s a pause filled with the rustle of fabric, and while Yuri waits, Chopa turns around and exposes her belly in a playful manner. Yuri looks at her and arches an eyebrow, not really trusting her, but finally lowers his hand to tentatively touch her. He gets attacked the moment his hand comes in contact with her fur.

“Ah, you little bitch!” he curses, flicking Chopa on the head and taking his hand closer to his eyes so he can inspect the damage. The cat tries to snatch his hand again, but finding herself unable to reach it she proceeds to attack his knee and then run away.

“What happened ?” Otabek’s voice comes from the other side of the line, “Chopa? ”

“Yeah,” Yuri waits a moment and clicks his tongue when the scratch on his hand starts turning red. First it’s a thin line, then the blood starts overflowing to form small dark droplets, one of which threatens to fall soon. Yuri holds his hand still as he looks around for his cat, “The little shit suddenly turned all sugar-high on me, attacked my hand and ran off. I’ll go wash the scratch, wait a minute.”

“Go,” Otabek says after a second, and Yuri knows he nodded before saying anything and then realized he couldn’t see him, “I’ll wait in bed. ”

Yuri smiles at those words. It sounds like they’re going to sleep together.

He leaves the phone on his bed and makes a swift run for the bathroom standing on the balls of his feet. The wound is nothing too deep, so just washing and pressing a towel for a couple of seconds is enough to leave just the clean scratch forming a pink-ish line on his skin. He hurries back to his room.

When he comes back, however, instead of finding his phone still laying on his bed he’s welcomed by the sight of Chopa viciously attacking one of his leopard-printed pillows, biting and holding it with her claws as her legs repeatedly kick it. His phone is screen down on the floor.

“Hey!” Yuri yells, and as soon as Chopa sees him she’s jumping off the bed and disappearing through the door. He growls out of irritation and rolls his eyes, picking up his phone and looking at the screen in search for any damage. Nothing, but his call with Beka was ended and there’s a blurry picture of Chopa on his chat with Yuuko, along with a couple of texts consisting in a series of numbers and letters. He’ll apologize later, his priorities are well organized and he needs to call his boyfriend again right now.

“Yura,” he sounds tired, voice a little raspy, and as he clears his throat Yuri knows he had fallen asleep waiting. He smiles.

“Sorry, Chopa came back while I was gone and somehow ended the call and threw my phone to the floor,” Yuri speaks softly, he doesn’t want to fully wake his boyfriend up. He’s a little tired too, after coming back to St. Petersburg almost two weeks ago he has started practising all day again, so he understands and wants him to rest.

“Ah, so that was it,” Yuri can hear some more rustling and he guesses Otabek’s turning to find a more comfortable spot in bed. He always lays in some uncomfortable way when he’s tired but doesn’t want to fall asleep, and he always does anyway. “ I heard some rustling, she was probably attacking it. ”

“I don’t even know why she hates my phone so much,” Yuri walks back to the door and his fingers linger over the light switch, “Lights off?”

Otabek hums from the other side.

“Mine are already, just the lamp on the nightstand is on,” Yuri hears him move again. He’s trying to stay awake.

Yuri flicks the lights off and goes back to the large bed, flopping down on it and tugging the sheets over his body. He turns to his side.

“Turn it off, already,” he says, hugging one of his many extra pillows and pressing his chin over it, “I know you fell asleep waiting for me, and you know I know, so let’s skip the show and do this.”

Otabek groans softly. It’s kind of funny, Yuri thinks at that, how half of Otabek’s way of communicating is through body language and hums and groans, and how he’s came to understand his manners.

“I’m sorry,” he finally apologizes, and behind his voice there’s the distinct sound of the light switch being pressed, “I wanted to talk to you too, but today was busy.”

Yuri huffs and his legs find their way around the long pillow, pressing it closer against his body.

“Don’t be an idiot, Beka. It’s happened before, we just were busy all day and too tired to talk now,” he can’t say he’s not disappointed, because he was looking forward to their little chat before bed. Georgi had fallen face-first on the ice today and it was really funny, and Yuri himself has improved quite noticeably at performing the first half of his new SP, and he still wants to tell Otabek all that, but he’s not a selfish bastard. When he’s too tired to talk or just not in the mood, Otabek always respects it. He deserves the same. “I’ll just have twice as many things to tell you tomorrow. It can wait,” he insists, closing his eyes for a moment and picturing his boyfriend sprawled on his bed, probably laying on his stomach and with a hand under the pillow, the way he tends to sleep when he’s alone. “You can wake me up with a call tomorrow if you feel the need to make up for this, though.”

Yuri hears a short exhale from the other side of the line and knows his boyfriend is smiling in a mixture of amusement, fondness and tiredness. It makes him smile too.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Otabek finally says, voice low in a whisper that, if anything, makes the statement feel all the more intimate. Yuri knows, now, that his boyfriend is way more tired than he had initially thought, because that sentence came literally out of nowhere and that’s just how sappy Otabek turns when his brain is shutting down from tiredness but he wants to keep being awake. Knowing that, of course, doesn’t stop Yuri from turning beet red, blush creeping all the way up to his ears. That corny bastard. “I love you, Yura.”

“I love you too, idiot,” a couple of years ago he wouldn’t have been able to say that without stuttering, or say it at all, but this much time dealing with his lover’s antics and displays of affection have helped him get accustomed. Not to say that he doesn’t stutter anymore from time to time. “Good night.”

“G’night, kit,” Otabek mumbles, using that nickname that’s short for another nickname, ‘kitten’. Yuri hears those from time to time, and has come to realize Otabek uses them when he’s overwhelmed by emotion and just ‘Yura’ or ‘love’ won’t suffice to convey his feelings. He can relate to that.

He stays there, just listening intently to Otabek’s breathing until he feels the lightheadedness that comes with sleep and barely manages to press the ‘end call’ button before losing consciousness.

He’s woken up by the chorus of a Jon Bellion song that Otabek loves and Yuri’s set as his ID ringtone. He answers with a smile already seated on his lips, and from the other side the deep, soothing voice of his boyfriend hints a smile of his own.

“Good morning, Yura.”

 • •

Being far away for long periods of time has lead them to develop some costumes other people wouldn’t even think about, but hey, ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’. And if they’re something, that’s desperate to feel close.

“Watch your fingers, Yura,” Otabek warns as he sneaks a glance to his computer screen, where he’s greeted by the sight of his boyfriend in a red apron, brow furrowed in concentration as he cuts the chicken breasts in strips and then those strips into cubes. 

“I’m nineteen, I know how to use a knife,” he growls back, never lifting his gaze from the cutting board even when Otabek knows the glare directed to the chicken is meant for him.

Otabek smiles amusedly.

“I am aware of your age,” he says, and at that Yuri does look up, but only because he wants to kick that smile away from his face, “But you were also nineteen the last time we did this, and you had to hurry to the hospital because you nearly cut off your thumb.”

It had been a nasty accident, not as terrible as Otabek makes it sound but, Yuri has to concede, there had been a lot of blood involved. Their little cooking-together-through-Skype had been interrupted for that day and put on stand-by for a while, since Yuri had been banned from the kitchen for as long as it took for his thumb to heal properly. He had sent Beka a couple of pictures of the three stitches holding together his skin, not exactly the most romantic pics he’d ever sent him but hey, not the worst either.

“That was half a year ago,” he means to growl but Otabek can make out the pout on his lips by the tone it imprints on his voice, and can also see it even though the video isn’t exactly HD.

“Just be careful, love,” he repeats, this time softer, and Yuri still frowns but goes back to cutting the chicken in silent agreement.

They chat while they prepare the ingredients for their meal, chopping garlic and cutting parsley leaves, setting out all the spices, washing the tomatoes and putting them to boil. It’s nice for both of them to be able to share a moment like this, doing everyday things in a way that makes them feel closer. Silence takes over from time to time but it’s welcomed and easy, like when Yuri is trying to figure out where the hell Lilia hid the salt and Otabek is grating the parmesan cheese because he’s always dead set on doing it himself, unlike his boyfriend. The conversation topics change, sometimes subtly and sometimes no so much, ranging from the climate to the possible deep interpretation of one of their dreams, to the latest nail polish Yuri has bought. It’s nice.

Until they get to the part where they have to actually start cooking, and the same discussion topic arises every time without failure: Yuri’s preference to follow the recipe vs. Otabek’s tendency to deviate from it.

“Beka, it says olive oil, why the hell would you use canola instead? ” the blond protests, a black spatula on his right hand. He looks so cute with that red apron and his hair tied in a half-ponytail that Otabek gets distracted for a second.

“I like it better,” he says matter of factly, “You know I’m not a fan of olives.”

“Well, yeah, but the recipe says--”

“Yura,” Otabek interrupts him as he uncaps the canola oil. Years of being by the boy’s side, both as a friend and as a lover, have taught him the best way of bringing these useless discussions to an end. “I’m the one eating it.”

Otabek tilts the oil over the pot and Yuri’s eyes go wide.

“Don’t you da-” he starts, but the oil is already flowing and it hits the bottom of the pot with a soft metallic sound. Yuri growls, “You asshole.”

As he screws the cap back, while Yuri busies himself with his own oil and a couple of things muttered under his breath, Otabek smiles faintly and shakes his head. He finds his hot temper endearing, always has.

 • •

“I can’t believe I’ve never seen this movie,” Yuri mutters before stuffing his mouth with the popcorn he made for himself.

“It’s really good,” Otabek nods from the other side of the screen, though Yuri knows he’s watching his camera to see his reactions more than he’s watching the movie.

It’s the third time Otabek’s watched it, and even though he’s said he still likes it as much as the first time there’s apparently something more appealing about the way Yuri hugs his pillow and frowns or bites his lower lip according to whatever’s happening on screen. His face has always been really expressive, especially when Otabek is involved.

“I don’t want it to end. They have to find a cure or something,” he whines, something he only allows himself to do in front of Otabek. He just hums noncommittally and keeps quiet otherwise, probably to not spoil the movie for him. Yuri’s focused on the dialogue between the two main characters, but after that scene ends he huffs and hugs his pillow closer to his face. He’s lying on his stomach on top of his bed, lights off so the only illumination Otabek gets to see his face is the brightness of the screen. This movie is touching some strings in Yuri, nothing too deep but it still makes him remember some things. “Cancer is shit,” he says. It’s just a statement, something everyone on Earth knows but he feels the need to point out.

Still, he can basically feel Otabek’s eyes glued to him even from the other side of the camera, a whole country away.

“It is,” Otabek agrees. He doesn’t bother trying to find more words because he knows Yuri doesn’t need them.

They’ve talked about this before, the multiple times they‘ve addressed the family topic. Yuri’s told him all about his mess of a family, about the unknown identity of his father, about his disappeared mother, and of course about his grandmother who died of cancer. Yuri never had the chance to meet her, since she had passed away years before he was even conceived, but Yuri is really close to his grandfather and whoever is important to Nikolai instantly turns into someone important to him. So, he remembers his grandmother, and the face he’s seen in photographs always pops up in his mind when someone mentions cancer.

A while more into the movie, Yuri deems a scene unimportant enough to speak again.

“What would you put in your bucket list if you knew you were gonna die soon?” he asks, eyes traveling to the corner of the screen where Otabek’s camera is.

“Yura, the movie,” Otabek reminds him. Yuri is well aware of his tendency to start talking during the slow parts of the movie, get wrapped up on his ideas and go back to watching when he’s missed part of the story, but he’s never had any interest to change that about himself.

“I’d like to pet a tiger, at least once,” Yuri ignores him, and Otabek sighs, “We could go to a zoo or some place where they let you pet the tigers, right?”

When Yuri sees Otabek’s fond smile, he knows he just won this battle. During the years they’ve been together, Yuri has learned Otabek has a soft spot for him acting on his most childish wishes.

“Horseback riding,” Otabek contributes, and smiles when Yuri’s eyes once again glue to the corner of the screen where his camera is. “A last holiday with my mother and sister” he adds, and Yuri nods. “Kiss the most beautiful boy in the world,” Otabek’s half-smile is playful, looking at the corner of his own screen where Yuri’s face is on display. The fucker just wants to get a reaction from him. “That being you.”

Yuri can’t help it. His response is instantaneous. Otabek’s just repeating one of the items of the bucket list from the movie, and yet Yuri can feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“I know, you sap,” he grunts, trying to hide his face a little more behind the pillow, “Stop copying the fucking movie.”

 • •

They have each other in every social net and app they use, frequently or not, so there are lots of ways for them to communicate. They mostly text, send snaps on Snapchat and, more than anything, Skype, and on the side they constantly send each other pics through Instagram. There probably isn’t a picture in Yuri’s Instagram that hasn’t been liked by Otabek.

At the beginning, Otabek must say, he wasn’t really fond of apps and social media, but with time and Yuri’s nagging he started to use them more and more, eventually even changing his cellphone for a newer model that allows him to download more things and makes his communication with Yuri all the more easier. Like, for example, having Skype on his phone while his computer is being fixed.

“Mila was talking about her new boyfriend today,” Yuri is sitting cross-legged over his bed, hair falling loosely over his shoulders and back as he brushes it. He got out of shower just ten minutes ago and Skype-called Otabek the minute he stepped out of the water so they could have at least a quick call before sleeping. Otabek still can’t take those long legs and creamy thighs out of his mind.

And the way the blue towel hung loosely around Yuri’s hips and how it, upon being untied, slipped sensually over his skin and fell to the floor.

Already past a month and a half without being able to touch Yuri, and he’s feeling it.

“Mila’s always talking about her boyfriends,” Otabek responds to Yuri’s comment, turning on his bed to lay on his back, one arm behind his head as the other holds his phone up over his face so they can see each other, “Was she complaining too much?” he asks, knowing that even a little complaining is too much on Yuri’s ears, especially coming from Mila or Georgi.

“No,” Yuri takes deep interest in brushing a particular strand of his light golden hair, and his voice says more to Otabek than what Yuri intends to convey through that one word. It sends alarms off inside the Kazakh’s head, his chest constricting in anticipation for the next sentence. “She’s pretty happy with this one. Couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful he is and how amazing it is to spend time with him.”

Ah. There it is.

“I… Yura, you know she gets like that,” Otabek turns around so he can rest with his chest and belly over the mattress, all his attention now on Yuri, whose fingers are now caressing the strands of hair as if he’s in deep thought, “She’s probably doing it to Georgi and Sara too.”

“I know that,” Yuri snaps, voice containing something that runs cold in his veins, “but…”

There’s a pause, where even Yuri’s fingers stop moving and everything sits still. Otabek waits for the words he knows won’t come out of Yuri’s mouth. He always misses him too much to handle it.

Then he sighs.

“Yura,” he calls, patient and calm, but Yuri doesn’t react, “Yura, look at me.”

It seems that Otabek’s mellow voice reaches the blond now and, just as the rodents in The Pied Piper of Hamelin couldn’t resist the music, Yuri’s unable to do anything but obey his boyfriend’s request.

His eyes tell much more than Otabek was expecting.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Beka,” Yuri’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and sounds wet and hurt in all the wrong ways, and damn if it doesn’t break Otabek’s heart to see him like that. “I want to kiss you. Hug you. I miss you so fucking much, Otabek Altin, what the fuck have you done to me.”

He knows he doesn’t mean it like that, but Otabek can’t help but feel responsible and he’d do anything, he’d give up skating right this second if it meant Yuri wouldn’t hurt like this. His arms tingle in an unpleasant way with the need to hold him, the constricting feeling inside his chest turns tighter and makes his throat knot painfully, especially given the fact that Yuri actually said he misses him, instead of leaving it implied for Otabek to understand, like he always does.

He hates this.

“I miss you too, Yuri,” he whispers, leaving the pet names aside for once because things just got serious. Yuri’s eyes, pixelated and far away but still unbelievably green and honest, hang onto Otabek’s with such longing it feels like they’re getting inside his body and taking his heart away like a war treasure. Otabek would be fine with giving it to him.

“I want to see you,” Yuri breathes, and it’s desperate and broken and everything Otabek wants Yuri to not be, and it irks him that they have to go through this every time, because the boy sure as hell doesn’t deserve it. “I’m just this bit away from picking up my things and taking the next flight to Almaty.”

“Yuri…” Otabek breathes. He knows he can’t do anything about it, they have scheduled times to meet and have to endure the months between the visits, and they usually can but every time one of them snaps at least once, and it’s mostly Yuri and he can’t handle it when it happens. They miss each other with the same intensity, but he’s never been one to show those things, while Yuri is pretty transparent and emotion-driven, even if he doesn’t want to be. “We just have to wait a while longer until you come visit. Just another month,” he reminds him, pleading, because the impotence he’s feeling right now is heavy and difficult to deal with. What can he say, after all? They’re not breaking up, that has been put on the table many times when the distance became too much to handle and still the one time they did it lasted less than a week and they decided to never do something that stupid again.

“Like another two months,” Yuri corrects, a heavy sigh he doesn’t want to let out weighing on his chest. “I just want to kiss you, Beka, I’m not asking for much,” and yet I can’t have it is left unsaid, but they both know that’s what he means.

“I’m sorry, Yura.”

Yuri frowns, but then looks down.

“What are you apologizing for? I’m the one who asked you out on the first place,” he reminds him, letting his hair fall in front of his face like a glowing curtain.

“Yes, I know, but--”

He can’t finish his sentence, though, because suddenly Yuri disappears from the screen, which trembles with the movement of the mattress.

“You shit! You’re a fucking demon!” Otabek hears his voice coming from the speakers of his phone.

Oh wow. Well, now he knows what happened. Or who was involved, at least.

As if on cue, a light caramel and black blur jumps on the screen and Yuri screeches .

“Get off the computer, you crazy bitch!” he yells, and through the tilted camera Otabek can see Yuri’s legs and a black, fluffy tail.

“What did she do now?”

With some more mumbled words, Chopa is left over the bed and Yuri leans towards the camera and repositions the computer where it belongs, proceeding then to hand-tame his slightly tousled hair.

“She had something stuck on her tail, and since she couldn’t get it off she started running around and jumped on me,” he huffs, but Otabek can’t help the amused chuckle that leaves his lips. “Don’t laugh, it wasn’t funny.”

“You didn’t see it from here,” he counters, and Yuri scorns. The atmosphere has lightened up significantly, but when they lock eyes once again it’s heavy and slightly uncomfortable, the need to talk about it clashing with the want to leave it there if just to avoid feeling worse.

Chopa decides to join their staring contest.

“Oh, hi princess,” he greets the pet when she suddenly appears in front of the camera, blocking Yuri’s frame with her too-fluffy fur and her big, round blue eyes. She looks wild, pupils barely a black line within all that blue, and Otabek takes a screenshot. He’s surprised to see the picture shows Chopa’s eyes almost entirely black, her pupils now dilated with barely a ring of color around them. “Wow,” he says, and effectively the camera depicts a wide-eyed Chopa looking at him.

“What-? Hey, what the hell Chopa?”

Otabek sees the fur moving up and down, his screen mostly obscured by it. He doesn’t understand a thing.

“What is she doing?” he asks, curving an eyebrow. The tenseness from before lifts, and his shoulders slump against the pillow he’s been leaning over.

“She’s licking the damn screen,” Yuri informs, and the fur covering the camera retreats. “I think she misses you too, the little bitch. You know, I was the one who adopted you when you were just a little ball of fur and fleas, you ungrateful shit. ” Otabek laughs and takes another screenshot almost in reflex at seeing his boyfriend holding Chopa from below her front legs, the cat stretched as long as she is —which, frankly, isn’t that much— and staring at the screen with pupils still blown wide. The blond is cross-legged again, looking at her with a tilted head in a position that makes his shoulder blades-long hair cover almost his entire face from Otabek’s eyes. “She looks like she’s high or something.”

“Like that time I gave her catnip?” Otabek suggests with the hint of an amused smile on his lips.

“Yeah, almost,” Yuri concedes, and then looks at him with green eyes that are shining with an entirely different emotion than a couple of minutes before. He’s smiling. Otabek thanks everything that’s holy for that cat’s antics, she’s lightened their mood a lot. “I was so worried back then when she wouldn’t move, but now it’s funny to remember.”

“You wanted to kill me for breaking your cat,” Otabek reminds him, finally earning a hearty laugh from Yuri’s side.

“She didn’t move for like an hour!” he exclaims, laughter still tinting his voice.

Otabek can’t help the smile that creeps to his lips too.

“She’s still so small, isn’t she like five years old already?” he asks when Chopa is finally put back on the mattress, and she seems to have calmed down as she lifts a black leg, sticking it up in the air and licking it, “Well, they say pets take after their owners.”

“Yea- hey!” it takes a moment for Yuri to process the teasing behind that sentence, and Chopa jumps when he slams his hand over his bed. “I grew again, I could be as tall as you by the time we meet, for your information.”

It’s Otabek’s turn to laugh, the sincere, deep rumble of his voice catching both Yuri’s and Chopa’s attention.

“Sure, Yura. Although I was talking about her flexibility too,” he says, in a peace-offering sort of way.

Yuri responds by sticking his leg up in the air like his cat.

“You might be right there,” he concedes, sided smile in place. Chopa looks at him, lowers her own leg and stares for another second before walking calmly towards the computer again, “Oh my God, she’s rubbing against the fucking screen,” Yuri rolls his eyes and slumps his shoulders dramatically, but when he reaches forward to pick her up again he ends up freezing in place. “Now she laid down right by the keyboard.”

"Do you think she wants to cuddle me?” Otabek suggests, and Yuri’s amused smile is all the answer he needs, “You can’t say you two aren’t alike.”

And the truth is, Otabek also likes cuddling with both of them. He’s glad Yuri has Chopa, so tonight he can hug her and miss him a little less. That cat has a sixth sense, she always knows when Yuri’s feeling down, and he silently thanks her for distracting them from their moping.

The next morning Yuri wakes up with a new notification on his cellphone.

otabek-altin has tagged you in a new photo.     @ yuri-plisetsky ’s cat’s look when she saw me on the screen. I guess pets do take after their owners. Thanks, Chopa.

Yuri’s eyes are barely open, but he smiles softly at the caption, chest swelling with love. Indeed: thanks, Chopa.

 • •

They’ve been texting through all their practice, or at least ever since Otabek first set foot on the rink today, and it’s been happening on and off since then, like a lot of times before, both of them sneaking to the side of the rink to send a quick text or sometimes pictures. A video of Otabek’s rinkmate —the only one he has— performing a jump combination and a picture of Yuri’s new pair of skates were tossed somewhere between the texts.

Thus, it’s not to say Otabek wasn’t expecting the blinking green light of his phone announcing a new message during the next hour. He just wasn’t expecting it so soon after Yuri’s break ended. Having still a couple of minutes of break himself, he opens the message immediately.

Yura: viktor n kautsdon invited me for dinner again

Yura: i swaer theyre gonna pull out the adotion papers anyday gdi

By the way Yuri’s texting, Otabek can only assume two things. One, he’s so angry he can barely type correctly, or two, he shouldn’t be typing at all. He knows the idea of having dinner with his self-proclaimed parents, no matter what Yuri wants everyone to think, isn’t that bad, so while he takes a swig of water he rushes to text him back before Yuri is discovered either by Lilia or Yakov.

You: It can’t be that bad. You could think of it as free food.

Yuri’s reply is almost instantaneous. A faint smiles attempts to tug Otabek’s lips at this.

Yura: no free fod is good enough

Yura: i hope the y keep th pda down

You: It won’t be PDA if you’re in their house.

Yura: its pda. im th public n i dont apprecate it

Well, there’s no way to fight that reasoning. Instead, he just exhales amusedly.

You: Then I guess no call tonight?

He could have asked that after they’re done with practice, since he knows Yuri’s daily schedule as well as his own and they almost always text right the moment Yuri’s practice hours end. Still, he wanted to know.

Yura: wht no. im still calling u i dont care

Otabek lets a small smile take place on his lips and softly shakes his head as he starts typing a response, but a new text from Yuri has him erasing it to type something completely different.

Yura: oh fuck Yakov sw me

Yura: gotta run

Yura: love u babe

You: If you don’t survive I’ll tell your parents you loved them dearly too.

He doesn’t get any text back from him, no “fuck u” or “forget it i dont love u anymore”, but he knows —almost four years of knowing Yuri have given him the right to use that word— that he made him smile with that sentence, or at least gave him the want to smile, whether Yuri repressed it in order to scorn at Yakov or not.

Otabek leaves his phone with the rest of his things, stands and skates back to the center of the rink for a little more practice before calling it a day, knowing that he probably won’t get another text until Yuri leaves his rink in two more hours.

Four hours later, though, he’s still waiting and already starting to get a little antsy. It’s not like Yuri to do this, he usually texts him right the moment he steps out of the rink for the final time that day and they keep talking until Otabek has to go to sleep. Sometimes they both go to bed at the same time just to feel closer. Today will be different, or so it seems since he’s staying awake waiting for Yuri to text back, no matter how tired he’ll feel tomorrow. It’s not like he can’t just go to sleep and ask what happened tomorrow, but he has the feeling that Yuri’s absence isn’t caused by Viktor and Yuuri dragging him to their house for dinner, or by low battery. He said they were still having that night call, if only to say goodnight and nothing else, and Yuri would have told him if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it.

He sends yet another text and waits, already on his third cup of tea and watching a show on his laptop just to keep his mind active and distracted, though it’s not helping that much.

Finally, he sees the screen of his phone light up with Yuri’s ID picture and he almost causes his laptop to fall to the floor as he scrambles to pick up the device and slide the answer button.

“Yura?” he asks, hopeful and relieved. “Did something happen?”

His relief doesn’t last much. Rather, it comes crashing down when he hears not Yuri’s, but Mila’s voice.

“Uh,” she hesitates, “no, sorry. It’s me, Otabek.”

“Mila,” Otabek frowns, worry slowly filling his chest, “Why are you on Yuri’s phone?”

There’s a small pause, and Otabek swears he’s going to have a heart attack if Mila doesn’t speak soon.

“Well, you see,” she starts, obviously trying to find the right words to say whatever she has to say, but then she sighs, “Okay, so, don’t panic but Yuri had an accident.”

Don’t panic, she said. Hah. Funny.

“What?” he snaps immediately, sitting even more upright than before, “What happened? Is he-?”

“He’s fine,” she cuts him, trying to calm him down, “He fell a little while before finishing practice. Pretty badly, actually, hit his head and his ankle took some damage too. He was knocked unconscious and we took him to the hospital,” she explains. Otabek’s chest feels tight, but he doesn’t speak and won’t do so until she’s finished. “They bandaged his ankle and had to glue the cut on his forehead to keep it from bleeding. The doctors are double checking for a concussion. When he woke up he asked me to pick up his phone for him and call you on my way back.”

A small silence settles in and Otabek knows that Mila’s done talking, but he takes his time to breathe again before saying anything.

“... is he really okay?” is the first thing that leaves his mouth, and frankly the only thing that matters to him right now.

He can hear Mila’s smile in her voice when she speaks next.

“Yeah, I assure you, the kitten is fine,” she’s saying it so carefree that he tells himself he has to calm down and believe her. It’s just that the fact he’s not able to be with him right now weighs heavy on him, heavier than usually. “You can trust me. The first thing he did was curse because his ankle was swollen and it hurt. Then he turned to look around, panicked and asked what time it was,” Mila narrates, and Otabek can almost picture her leaning casually against the railings of the rink. So far what she’s saying does sound like Yuri, especially the cursing part. “He didn’t even ask what happened, he just wanted to know the time because he was supposed to call you tonight, right?” Otabek nods, then hums, “He was more worried about that than about himself. Even gave me the password to unlock his phone so I could call you.”

She’s obviously still smiling and Otabek doesn’t hear teasing or mischief in her voice, but just to be sure he has to say something important.

“I know it’s probably a golden opportunity, Mila, but please don’t--”

“I won’t pry around, I swear,” she interrupts him again, and his silence apparently says a lot because she’s speaking again soon enough, “I know how long-distance relationships work, you know. And no matter how hot you are or how much blackmail I could get out of this, there are things about my friends I don’t wanna see,” she explains, and even if she’s being extremely understanding of the situation Otabek can feel the heat rising on his cheeks. “I’m not that evil.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” he clears his throat and focuses once more on the important topic, “So, you’re taking Yuri’s phone to him now?”

“Yup. But it’ll take a while until I get there and they let him go, so Yuri said you don’t need to keep awake. It’s pretty late there, isn’t it?”

Otabek looks at the time. 12:57 am.

“I’ll be awake. Tell him to call me as soon as he can, please.”

Mila laughs.

“Will do,” she says, and Otabek is prepared to hang up when her voice comes again through the line, this time softer, "Oh, and Otabek?” he answers with a hum. “He loves you.”

That takes him by surprise.

“He said that?” it’s pretty unrealistic to believe Yuri would tell her to say that to him, and if he did then Otabek knows there’s a good reason to stay awake. Yuri wouldn’t send someone to tell him that if he was in his right mind.

“No,” comes the reply. Otabek arches an eyebrow, confused, “but I know. You can tell a lot with a look at his eyes. I thought I’d tell you.”

“Oh,” Otabek eloquently says.

“You two are really lucky,” Mila almost whispers. Otabek knows he’s lucky, but he doesn’t have time to say so, “Well, I’ll tell him to call you! Bye~” she chants, and then the conversation is over.

Otabek makes sure to stay awake until he gets Yuri’s call, and by the time he plops on his bed and closes his eyes to finally sleep it’s almost three am.

He hates himself in the morning.

 • •

A bored Yuri usually means an angry Yuri, and bored is all Yuri has been during the past three days. He’s forced to stay in bed until his ankle heals completely, and he’s never been good at staying still for long periods of time, unless it’s for a very good reason —like, lets say, Otabek’s there hugging him— but he’s not as stupid as to go try a jump combo and end up fucking up his ankle even worse, so he’s stuck there just kind of complaining, catching up with shows and sending multiple angry texts to his boyfriend.

Today being Sunday, Otabek’s proposed to have an all-day call, Yuri almost jumping at the prospect of having something else than angry-texting, watching some show, reading and sleeping to pass the time. They’re currently just texting, though, as Otabek was having lunch with his family and is just preparing to go back home in a few minutes.

Otabek’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he discreetly takes it out to look at the newest message while his mother and aunt are immersed in their own conversation. His little sister, ever watchful, catches him in fraganti , but just quietly smiles when he puts a finger over his lips.

Yura: im soooo bored bekaaa. how much till u get home?

He looks around to ensure no one’s looking and types a quick reply. It’s not like his family would say anything, he actually told them about the situation while they were eating, but he still doesn’t want to be disrespectful.

You: I have to do the dishes and stop by the coffee shop before getting home, so maybe an hour.

Immediately after he presses ‘send’, he looks up to find his sister staring at him with her big, dark eyes.

“Is Yuri okay?” she asks, and though she’s not a little girl anymore he still sees her as such.

“Don’t worry, he’s just bored. He’s not good at staying still for long,” he explains, but doesn’t bother to pocket his phone again as he knows he’ll be getting a new message soon.

“So you’ve said,” she puts her hands over her lap and her eyes fly up to the ceiling and then to the side, “Tell him I say hi?”

Otabek’s phone buzzes twice in his hand, and he smiles.

“Of course,” he tells her, and then looks down to read.

Yura: another hour ugh im gonna die

Yura: :(

Smilies, huh? That’s unusual.

You: I know, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be there soon. Oh, Aigerim says hi. She’s worried about you.

Aigerim, currently on her chair and balancing her legs, leans towards him as if expecting a reply from Yuri. She admired him for some time before Otabek became his friend, still admires him and wants him to like her so she tends to be extra cute and polite around him the few times they can actually meet.

Otabek puts his phone up and snaps a quick shot of the girl, quick enough that she doesn’t manage to cover her face with her forearms in time.

“Brother!” she complains, but Otabek’s already sending the picture to Yuri, and the reply is instantaneous.

Yura: that cute brat

Yura: tell her i say hi too

Yura: also that i’ll reward her if she helps me get you home quicker

Otabek sighs and shakes his head with a small, fond smile.

“Did he say something?” his sister asks, leaning over the table again.

“He says hi too,” he looks down at his phone again and shakes his head once more, “and he’s trying to bribe you into helping him. He wants me to go home faster.”

Aigerim’s attention is piqued at that.

“What does he have to offer?” she asks, leaning sideways towards him and eyeing his phone with interest. Otabek knows both their mother and aunt are watching them amusedly.

He looks at his phone again and hands it to her.

“Here, you talk to him,” the device slides over the wooden table and he stands up, “I’ll go wash the dishes meanwhile.”

Aigerim smiles, somewhere between excitement and a smirk, and eagerly takes the phone to start texting.

Two minutes later a head of braided black hair enters Otabek’s side vision, and suddenly his sister’s bumping him with her hip.

“Yuri and I came to an agreement,” she says in a businesswoman voice, rolling up the sleeves of her dress, “I’m doing the dishes now.”

Otabek smiles and leans down to take her face between his hands and give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey,” she tries to complain like the rebellious teenager she’s supposed to be, but the smile gives her away. “Go, your boyfriend started almost moping when I left him alone.”

The fact that Otabek arrives home in around half an hour is entirely thanks to his sister, and a little bit thanks to the fact the coffee shop is almost empty when he stops by.

Yura: i love your sister

Yura: also dont tell her i was coming for her 15 birthday anyway

 • •

By the fifth day, Yuri’s boredom has reached unsuspected levels, and with boredom —once you’re past the anger phase— comes Yuri’s imaginative problem solving. He can get quite creative on what to do with his time.

Like, say, sending Otabek dirty texts while he’s at practice.

Otabek nervously eyes the blinking green light that indicates there’s a text waiting to be read, but he resists the temptation of opening it. Last one was a very compromising picture of Yuri and no, despite what the less than pure part of his mind says, reading those things out in public is a bad, bad idea.

His attention, of course, plummets to the floor and then a little more with every blink of the bright light dot. He suffers through it with steel determination… well, no, not really. Every now and then he can’t help but open the accumulated messages and read them one after the other, all the while trying to not get too flustered. And it’s obvious the only thing Yuri needs to keep going is the tick that gives away that Otabek is reading. Either way, it’s been five hours and he can’t take it anymore. The moment he finishes practice is the moment he finally replies before hastily taking off his skates and replacing them for shoes.

You: I’m going home.

He can practically see Yuri’s smirking.

Yura: ill be waiting

Otabek can say, with all honesty, that this was his fastest ride home.

He’s not even done climbing the stairs to his apartment and he’s already dialing Yuri’s number. He picks up right after the second tone.

“Hey, Beka,” he sounds slightly out of breath, and by what he’s supposedly been doing all this while it doesn’t surprise him. “Are you home?”

Otabek hastily fishes his keys out of his pocket and practically jumps the last steps.

“Just getting there,” he says, huffing. He just went up three sets of stairs in less than a minute.

“Already that worked up?” Yuri’s smile is painfully obvious in his voice, but he isn’t exactly trying to hide it. 

“Would it be that surprising?” Otabek sticks the key in and opens the door, shutting it behind him, “I just endured the longest teasing ever.”

Yuri clicks his tongue.

“Could have been worse,” he’s clearly amused by the situation, knowing right now Otabek is nearing his limit.

Otabek doesn’t know how it could be worse, but he’s not going to challenge Yuri.

“Yura,” he breathes.

“You want me that bad?” the blond teases again.

“You’re lucky you’re not here,” is his response. He’ll leave the rest to Yuri’s imagination.

Yuri clicks his tongue again and Otabek hears fabric rustling, and he knows the blond is turning. For what he’s been telling and showing him, he’s on his bed, only the sheets covering his naked body.

“I’d rather be with you,” he says, and the truth is Otabek would also love to have him here. “I don’t mind if you break me. I even want it,” he confesses without a trace of shame, and Otabek snaps.

It’s been at least a month since they did this together, and now that they have the opportunity they’re going to take it and make it count.

The next minutes are filled with teasing, names whispered with want and suggestions that could make Christophe Giacometti blush. They can get pretty specific when the moment allows it, and they enjoy teasing each other until one of them ends up submitting and lets himself be guided through it. Hands caress their own bodies like they’d want the other to touch them, heels dig into the mattress and backs arch against sheets and pillows, and between parted lips escape hot gasps and the most sinful pleas.

They end up panting, covered in sweat but smiling, whispering ‘I love you’s’ into the sudden quietness of the line.

 • •

Yuri’s time of obligatory rest is finally coming to an end in two days, and the boy is impatient to say the least, practically bouncing. All he’s been allowed to do during a whole week is stretching, banned from anything that could put strain on his ankle so it would be able to heal quicker and better, and for someone used to move practically all day every day it can be maddening to be bedridden for more than twenty-four hours. The cut on his forehead has healed too, though it’ll probably leave a small scar, and Otabek’s grateful it was just a bad fall with minor injuries and nothing more serious.

Otabek’s at the rink, as always, and he finds it strange that he hasn’t been getting text after text from an impatient and angry-because-I’m-bored Yuri, but he guesses he must be sleeping or reading or doing something else, finally taking pity on him and deciding to not distract him so much during his practice. It’s the least he should do, Otabek thinks, after the merciless teasing he was subjected to not more than two days ago.

The infamous green light is blinking when he goes to check his phone during his break, and he smiles against his water bottle before tilting it along with his head to take a sip. Then he opens the message. A picture. With a soft tap over it, it expands to occupy all the screen and the discreet smile comes back to his lips.

“the hag bought this for me so i will ‘stop sulking'", it reads. Above the caption are Mila and Yuri holding two small cups filled with ice cream, between them the pot containing the treat. He recognizes it, Mila’s homemade ice cream. She started making it herself when she grew tired of not being able to eat one of her favorite desserts because of the high sugar content, and sometimes she gifts her rinkmates with it. Otabek can see Yuri’s cup filled with mint ice cream, probably his favorite, and he suddenly craves for some. Mila makes a delicious strawberry and plum ice cream.

Otabek types a quick response and fills his mouth with water just to have something fresh to swallow.

You: Tell Mila I need to know her recipe.

 • •

The first day Yuri’s back on the ice, they have a night call so he can tell Otabek about it. It ends up being a full hour of complaining about how he forgot some steps of his program and how people were eyeing him cautiously, ready to assist him if he fell again after the same jump that had sent him to the hospital a little more than a week ago. Once he complained to his heart’s content they move on to talk about their programs, the strong points and the parts they’d rather change.

The second day they talk almost exclusively about how Yuri’s muscle memory helped him a lot, because after a little practice he was able to perform just as well as he was doing before the fall, and how he finally nailed that fucking jump. He says when he perfects it he’ll ask someone to record it so Otabek can see.

The third day the talk deviates widely from skating to the package that was waiting at Otabek’s door when he came home a couple of minutes before.

“Come on, open it,” they are on videocall, so Otabek can see Yuri is sitting on his bed, cross-legged as usual and balancing impatiently, “I didn’t pay for the express shipping so you could take a week to just stare at the box.”

“We’re meeting in three weeks, you could have waited until then,” Otabek says as he watches Yuri bounce.

“I didn’t want to. Come on,” he insists. Otabek guesses he’s waited enough and rips the package open, unboxing the item.

His eyes go wide in surprise. He wasn’t expecting this.

“... you made this?” lifting his face to direct his incredulous look at his boyfriend, he asks the first thing that comes to his mind. It definitely looks handmade, and Yuri wouldn’t purchase something like this to give to him, so he’s probably right. Still, he had to ask.

“Yeah,” the blond’s smile is blinding, he’s proud of his work, and there’s reason to be.

Otabek finally picks the scarf from the box and lifts it. It smells like Yuri, like his sheets the day right after he changes them, the unique scent of his skin mixed with laundry soap.

“You’re really good,” he muses, impressed by his lover’s skill. He was told, months ago, that Yuri had learned how to knit when he was younger in hopes that would teach him to be more patient. It hadn’t, and he had stopped for years but Otabek had jokingly asked him to knit him something and Yuri had said yes. And here it is, the result of his work, a tight-knit, soft, dark green and white woolen scarf.

“Thanks,” he pushes a strand of blond hair behind his ear and tilts his head slightly. “I needed some practice before I got it right, but I had plenty of time during the week I was banned from the rink. So yeah, I wanted to give it to you now.”

“It’s really soft,” Otabek rubs his thumbs over it and then brings it to his face, rubs it on his cheek and kisses it, “Thank you.”

“Shut up, it was nothing,” Yuri waves his hand in a dismissive way, looking to the side. Otabek knows he’s embarrassed, most likely because of the kiss. He did that on purpose.

“I’ll go take a shower, I’ll be back soon,” he announces, suddenly very aware of the fact that he got out of practice a while ago and still hasn’t showered.

He doesn’t end the videocall, by now they’re too used to have it on while they walk around the house doing things, at least to feel the presence of the other. When he comes back a couple of minutes later, Yuri is very concentrated on painting his nails, back arched forward so he can easily reach his toes..

“I’m back,” he announces, proceeding to pick some clothes and then change, already getting ready for bed. Yuri stares at him for a little while and then goes back to work.

“You didn’t take long,” he mentions, focused on the small nails he’s painting. Otabek sometimes does it for him, though he’s not that good at keeping the nail polish over the actual nail.

“I have really short hair, Yura,” he notes while pulling up his pants, “You’re used to longer showers because your hair reaches your shoulder blades.”

“Point,” Yuri answers, stretching his foot to take a good look at it.

Otabek sits in front of the camera again and, for a moment, he’s just content with watching Yuri assess his work and then move on to the next nail.

“It’s been awhile since I last saw you doing that,” his voice is soft, so as to not disturb the quiet peace that has settled between them.

“That’s probably because I haven’t been doing my nails lately. It’s been like five months,” he finally looks up to look him in the eye, “Next time I can paint yours, too. You’d look great with golden nail polish,” the smirk on his lips is devilish, he’s probably joking, but Otabek would let him paint his nails if he asked.

“So you’re painting your nails gold?” he asks in return. The video isn’t that great and it’s not like the camera is zooming right on Yuri’s nails, so he can’t really tell which color he’s using. Suddenly, he remembers, “Didn’t I buy you a golden nail polish during summer?”

Yuri almost drops the brush and ends up staining his hand.

“Fuck!” he curses, scrambling to avoid the nail polish to fall all over his bed, “Beka!” he complains. Otabek just arches an eyebrow with an amused look on his face. “... fine, yes, it’s the one you bought for me. Happy?”

He smiles warmly.

“Actually yes, very much so.”

 • •

Yuri’s impatient. There’s only one day left for them to meet, and he needs to talk to his boyfriend or the excitement is going to kill him. So, he does what seems logical and videocalls Otabek the moment he comes back from practice, escaping Lilia with the help of his ever loyal cat, who instantly comes to greet them upon hearing the door open and starts rubbing between her legs.

He was pretty surprised a couple of years ago, when Lilia saw Chopa for the first time and leaned down to pet her. Nowadays, it’s not unusual to walk into the living room to find Chopa resting on Lilia’s lap, probably the only moment Lilia allows her clothes to be less than perfect, with Chopa’s light caramel, white and black fur sticking to it.

Otabek picks up after a couple of tones and Yuri’s eyes go wide.

“Sorry Yura, I’m showering,” he’s holding the phone away from him so the water doesn’t reach it. Yuri wonders why did he pick up at all, he could have just called back when he stepped out of the shower, but he’s actually glad he did. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” his eyes trail over his boyfriend’s face, his black hair damp and brushed backwards, the droplets of water sliding down his naked chest. “Now, if you would just please turn the phone a little downwards…” he trails off, eyes glued to the lowest part of Otabek’s body the screen allows him to see.

Otabek just laughs that quiet laugh of his.

“Just give me five minutes and I’ll call you back”, he promises. Yuri purses his lips for a second.

“You better be naked and wet when you do or you’re not getting that birthday lap dance we were talking about”.

 • •

You: getting on the plane!

Beka: I’ll be waiting for you at the airport.

You: u better be

You: i still dont know how to get to ur house on my own

Beka: Aigerim is almost jumping. She’s really excited you’re coming for her fifteen birthday party.

You: wouldnt miss it. you haven’t told her she didn’t need to do me any favor to get me to come, right?

You: because she will make me pay if she finds out

Beka: I haven’t said a thing, I swear.

You: good boy

You: gotta turn this shit off. see u soon

Beka: Have a nice flight, Yura. I love you.

 • •

He makes a run for it and latches onto Otabek the moment he sees him, suitcase all but forgotten at the point where he started his race towards his boyfriend. Someone could take his damn things, he doesn’t care, he’ll buy new clothes later but he has to exploit every minute they have together, starting right now.

“Beka!” he exclaims, squeezing him between his arms and legs wrapped around him. He presses his head to the curve of his neck, where he meets soft, dark green yarn. Oh, how he’s missed his scent.

“Yura,” Otabek says in turn, less excited not because he isn’t as thrilled to see him but because he’s occupied trying to regain balance. “Yura, you’re here,” he tightens his arms around Yuri’s waist and under his thighs, pressing him against himself as much as he can, feeling his warmth and squeezing him with his fingers just to feel his body like he’s been wanting to for four months. “I missed you,” he murmurs over the skin of his neck, and of course he’d be the one to say it.

Yuri’s smile makes his face feel like the muscles of his cheeks are going to get cramped any minute. He can’t resist but to lean backwards just enough to take Otabek’s face in his hands and kiss him. It’s hasty and clumsy, like all of their first kisses, their teeth clash because they’re smiling too much and it causes them to look into each other’s eyes and laugh before trying again. This time their lips meet and mold seamlessly against each other. They’ve learned to not make the kisses too long when they’ve just met and are in public because they might not be able to stop, but that doesn’t stop them from letting the touch linger a little more than necessary.

When they part, they’re still smiling.

Yuri untangles his legs from around Otabek’s waist and he guides him down until his feet are touching the shiny floor of the airport.

“You’ve grown,” he notes, hand reaching to caress Yuri’s cheek. He can’t believe he’s finally in front of him, Yuri Plisetsky in the flesh, full resolution.

“Told ya,” he grins, head tilting a little to the side, “Maybe I’ll grow another inch and finally reach you.”

“Maybe,” Otabek murmurs, busying himself with letting his eyes wander over Yuri’s features, sharpened with age but still young-looking and incredibly beautiful, but a little obscured by the hood of his black hoodie.

The fact that he’s wearing his hood isn’t strange, he usually wears it no matter where he is, but something looks off and Otabek can’t accurately pinpoint what, until he realizes. He sees in Yuri’s eyes the exact moment he notices that Otabek knows. The blond stays still, a sly smile stretching on his lips, and lets him pull the hood down. Otabek’s eyes go wide.

“Surprise,” his grin says much more than words could ever begin to convey, as he lets Otabek’s brown eyes travel along his exposed jawline, his neck, his ears, all free from the golden locks of hair that were covering them the last time they saw each other.

Yuri’s hair is shorter than Otabek’s ever seen it. There’s still this bang that covers his right eye more often than not, but now there are strands that reach no further than Yuri’s ears, and only a couple extend long enough to barely brush the base of his neck. It’s new and refreshing and he looks so good , it suits him so well that Otabek thinks he may have just fallen in love all over again.

He has to look to the side, silently covering his lips with the back of his index finger.

Yuri’s grin is wider than ever.

“You like it”, he states. Judging by the way he’s been grinning like mad he most probably knew it even before Otabek saw him, but getting confirmation is good and he appreciates it.

“I always like you,” Otabek responds noncommittally. He never knew how much he needed short-haired Yuri until he saw it, and now he can’t get enough of it. His hands itch with the want to touch the short golden strands, and he promises to himself he’ll indulge once they get to his apartment.

There’s a moment when the only thing they do is look into each other’s eyes and smile, and then Yuri’s eyes and expression soften.

“I’m here,” he says, and Otabek barely catches it over all the chatting and the announcements made through the speakers of Almaty International Airport.

“Welcome home, Yura,” he takes his hand on his own and tugs, not needing anything else to have Yuri follow him. They pick up Yuri’s long forgotten suitcase and start walking together towards the exit.

"Come on,” he says, picking up the pace, “I’m starving and I really want to test that new mattress you were bragging about”.

Did anyone get the movie they were watching was The Bucket List? One of the characters writes “Kiss the most beautiful girl in the world” on the list, and I thought sappy Otabek would take advantage of that.

Also, Yuri’s cat name (Chopa) was taken from Yulia Lipnitskaya’s cat.

Insp for short-haired Yuri can be found in this post (first pic), with the credit to the author.

Oh and please please please, you have to listen to this audio of Yuri missing Otabek and leaving a voicemail for him, made by the wonderful, the talented, the one and only @yuratchka-speaks. When I first listened to it I felt like wow, this really complements my fic, because you’ve seen how my version of Yuri gets when he’s apart from his bf. So yeah, I had to link it here. The most precious voicemail you'll ever hear.