Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13281759.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin, Katsuki_Yuuri, Victor_Nikiforov, Nikolai
      Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin's_Family
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Omega_Yuri_Plisetsky, Alpha_Otabek_Altin,
      Mpreg, Teen_Pregnancy, Heavy_Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-06 Updated: 2018-03-30 Chapters: 7/14 Words: 39465
****** Rattle my Lungs ******
by AshSeven
Summary
     Yuri's break was supposed to have lasted two months, not ten. He and
     Otabek were supposed to take their relationship slow. Yuri was
     supposed to be the best dancer in Saint Petersburg. Otabek was
     supposed to graduate from university and become the next Sia.
     They weren't supposed to have a baby.
Notes
     First, yes that is an underage warning you see. This fic is to
     explore all the tension, stress, rough decisions, and tested
     relationships that come along with an unplanned, teen pregnancy.
     Proceed with the necessary caution.
     Also, the ABO dynamics are pretty important to this fic (Mpreg etc.)
     but not the main focus, if anything the dynamics are pushed to the
     background - besides the obvious.
     =====================================================================
     Chapter Warnings
     - Sexual content
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Surprises, Yuri was now realising, only worked when everything was thought
through properly. So fuck this, basically. He fished his phone out of the back
pocket of his skinny jeans, tapping a long, purple nail against the screen as
it took all of one second to unlock.
Me:
Hey when does your class end?
It must have been a boring class, because Otabek replied almost instantly. Yuri
had no idea how he managed to sit through those lectures without falling asleep
Beka:
In two hours
Why?
Yuri swore loud enough that he was sure the neighbours had heard. So what the
fuck was he supposed to do now? He glared at Otabek's apartment door with the
stupid brass number in the middle of the dark wood. He should just fucking kick
it down. Groaning, he slumped to the floor, banging the back of his head
against the wall. And the shitty thing was Otabek had changed his WiFi password
and he knew that he was getting dangerously close to his data limit that month.
He really should have fucking double checked Otabek's class schedule before
hauling his ass across Moscow to surprise him.
A yawn barrelled out of nowhere as Yuri rested the side of his head against his
suitcase. He pulled his hood over his head, even if his messy bun made it pull
awkwardly against his neck, and shoved his cat-eyed shades onto his face.
Otabek probably wouldn't like it if he came home from class to find him passed
out on his doorway like a homeless person in leopard print. He yawned again.
But it wasn't like he had anything else to do, and he had gotten up at like
dawn for his final appointment with the Podiatrist, and then his flight from
Saint Petersburg had been delayed by two whole fucking hours and he had to wait
at the gate. So, fuck it, Otabek would wake him up when he got home.
Except, even with all the yawning, he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep
right there. He hadn't seen his best friend - or was it boyfriend now - in
months. And well, his stomach was fluttering enough to keep him awake. He
pulled out his phone again intending on have a fucking photo shoot to pass the
time when the low battery notification popped up.
God fucking damn it.
Looking around frantically for an outlet, and what fucking apartment complex
didn't have outlets in the hallway? Why was Otabek paying so much for this
shit? He opened back up Otabek's chat.
Me:
Can you leave early?
The one good think about Otabek was that he always replied within seconds.
Beka:
No
Why?
Me:
Pleaseeeeeee
Beka:
I can't just get up and leave
Me:
You totally can
You're in university not high school. You can do whatever the fuck you want and
you can't get in trouble.
Beka:
It doesn't work like that
Me:
Just tell your professor there's an emergency
Beka:
Is there?
Why do you want me to leave?
Yuri grumbled, clicking his nails on the phone screen. Fuck this. He got up,
and took a selfie of himself grinning widely in front of Otabek's door, the
number clearly in view.
Me:
Because I need to get in
Beka:
What...
Yuri!
What are you doing here???
Hold on I'll be home in fifteen minutes
Grinning, Yuri slid back to the floor. Okay well that solved that problem.
"I cannot believe you, Yuri Plisetsky," Otabek huffed, red faced probably from
running all the way from the bus stop. He stopped right outside the door
panting, his backpack hanging off of one shoulder and his hair tousled from him
running his hands through it.
Yuri sprang to his feet. "Let me in."
Otabek sighed heavily, pulling out his keys from his pocket. "Why didn't you
tell me you were coming?" He held the door open for Yuri to go through first,
and grabbed his suitcase handle, pulling it in after them.
Yuri shrugged, bounding into the neat foyer of Otabek's two-bedroom apartment.
"I wanted to surprise you."
"But it didn't occur to you that you needed to be let in?"
"Obviously not." He hopped over to the stainless-steel fridge, picking up a
glass from the drain board and filling it with water from the dispenser. While
taking a gulp he opened the fridge to see what snacks Otabek had. His parents
always set him up with the good kinds of junk food.
Otabek grumbled, leaning over the granite breakfast bar, and stole Yuri's
glass.
"Hey!"
"You come into my home, you don't even take off your shoes, and already you're
raiding my fridge – Yura, get out of there." Yuri stuck out his tongue but
closed the fridge. Otabek sighed again, setting the glass down on the breakfast
bar. "Anyway, you're gone for six months and I don't even get a proper hello?"
A grin cracked along Yuri's lips, and he bounced around the bar. He ran at
Otabek, flinging his arms around his neck, and fuck had he gotten taller than
the last time they'd seen each other? Yuri could have sworn he didn't have to
bend his neck this much to get on his eye level. Otabek wrapped his arms around
his waist, pulling them together as he buried his face against Yuri's neck.
Yuri fell against his chest, and grinned; finally after years of needling him
to get more active, he had started going to the gym. It showed a bit. Something
hot and gooey exploded inside Yuri's chest, and he tightened his arms around
Otabek, smiling and inhaling his detergent-and-leather smell.
God, he had missed him so much. He was just now realised how torturous these
past six months had been. It was the longest they had been apart, now that he
thought about it. He had wanted to come back to Moscow for the New Year, but
Yakov had sent the troupe off to another music video shoot at the very last
minute and they had ended up rehearsing almost up until midnight on New Year's
Eve. It had been a very long six months. He turned his head to place a soft
kiss to Otabek's cheek as his chest fluttered with a build up of warm fuzz.
Otabek, though, jerked back as if he had bitten him instead. His dark eyes went
wide, his mouth hung open in shock, and his cheeks began to redden.
Yuri narrowed his eyes, pulling away. "Are you serious right now?" Otabek's
throat bobbed as he swallowed. "You're getting flustered over a kiss on the
cheek, but you were literally sucking on my tongue before I left for the
airport last time."
He looked off to the side, hanging his head in embarrassment. Yuri felt the
muscles in his arms tense as they fell to his hips.
"I... well... Don't say it like that..."
Yuri breathed out deeply through his nose. "Then how should I say it?"
His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and he looked at a spot past Yuri's ear.
Yuri rolled his eyes, letting his arms slide down Otabek's back, very slowly
inching to his butt. "I don't know, just – Yuri!" he ended in a squeal –
although he would never admit that he had squealed – and yanked Yuri's hands
from his ass, squirming away. Yuri grinned deviously, getting in one last pinch
before Otabek was out of reach. "Yura," he admonished with a small frown on his
face.
"That was payback for kissing me like a second before I had to get into the
fucking taxi." He stuck out his tongue. Otabek's blush deepened, and Yuri
closed the distance between them again, wrapping his arms tightly around his
waist. "What the actual fuck was that?"
Otabek bit his bottom lip. "I... uh. I couldn't just let you go. And you were
gone for six months this time-"
"Of course you would count-"
"And I'm glad I did it." He cleared his throat uncomfortably and his arms fell
loosely around Yuri's waist.
This idiot. Yuri shook his head slowly, feeling a blush grow on his own cheeks
as well. He leaned forward, bringing a hand up to the back of Otabek's head to
press his fingers against his undercut. His mouth stretched into a grin by
itself as he tentatively pressed his lips to Otabek's. He half expected him to
pull away again, but instead his arms tightened around him and he eagerly
responded. Yuri's eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled sharply through his nose.
Finally, after six long months, this was it; this was home. The gentle kiss
didn't stay gentle for very long. After a few soft pecks – each getting deeper
and longer –their hands were everywhere, feeling clothes, hair, and skin. They
kissed as if they were hungry, mouths sealed together, only breathing when they
absolutely had to.
It had been like this the last time too. Otabek had been standing quietly at
Yuri's side while they waited by the curb for the taxi. He had seemed nervous
about something, but Yuri had just figured that he was sad that he was leaving.
He had glanced at his phone to check the time, then when he had looked up
Otabek had practically leapt on him. He nearly lifted him off the ground, and
Yuri couldn't even remember the wind chill from that day. They probably
wouldn't have stopped if the taxi driver hadn't leaned on his horn, neither of
them had even realised that the car had pulled up beside them. Yuri would have
cussed him out if he wasn't about to spend the next twenty minutes in his car.
He had spent the entire drive and flight, plus the drive to his apartment in
Saint Petersburg, with his fingertips pressed to his buzzing lips while his
breath came in shallow puffs.
"I've been telling everyone you're my boyfriend by the way," he mumbled
breathily as Otabek kissed down his neck, yanking the collar of his shirt down
his chest. He felt a puff of air as he sighed. "Hope that's okay."
Otabek's response was to wrap his hands around his thighs and hoist him onto
the breakfast bar. Yuri gasped, wrapping his legs around Otabek's waist and
cupping the back of his head as he continued to suck on the side of his neck.
He shimmied between Yuri's legs, and Yuri hooked his ankles together at the
base of spine. And these fucking jeans; Otabek was trying to get as close to
him as possible but the stupid tight crotch kept him from making any contact.
Still, Yuri's mouth fell open and he let out a raspy sigh, as the entirety of
his insides squirmed in some sort of squishy pleasure, and there was a gush of
wetness in his underwear. Swallowing, he tightened his thighs around Otabek's
waist, gently pressing the back of his head against his neck. He probably
already had a giant bruise there – thanks to his pale skin – but he didn't
care, it was actually kind of hot to think about. Otabek marking him. He tilted
his head further to the side, moaning when he felt Otabek's teeth sink into
muscle.
"So, it was okay then?" He was panting. Why the fuck was he panting already?
Never mind the fact that his heart was going as fast as if he had just finished
an intense practice. Otabek paused for a moment before lifting his head from
Yuri's neck. His lips looked a bit swollen –but they were already naturally so
full that Yuri wanted to scream at him every time he saw them – and his eyes
were glassy, yet his dark gaze was so hot that Yuri felt as if a spot light was
on him.
"Yeah," he mumbled, running his palms up and down his thighs. His hands were
hot even through the thick denim. Yuri's mouth went dry; literally all the
liquid in his body had rushed south and was slowly seeping out his ass. He
needed him so fucking badly right now. He joined their mouths together again
rough enough that their teeth crashed together painfully, but neither of them
cared much; Yuri had his eyes set on a goal, and Otabek was all too happy to
follow.
Otabek threw Yuri onto the couch, the leather was cold against his back; his
clothes were already long gone by then, shed somewhere along the way from the
kitchen to the living room. Otabek, himself, was only in his boxer-briefs. Yuri
remembered buying him those – black and grey leopard-print – for a birthday
once. Pressing him into the couch, Otabek kissed him fiercely, all teeth and
slippery tongues; it was almost impossible to get a breath out. He was still
able to find his voice, if only for a second.
"Beka," he threaded his fingers through the long hair at the top of his head.
Otabek's chest rumbled as he hummed in answer. Yuri swallowed thickly, wetting
his lips with a parched tongue. "How far..."
Otabek pulled away enough to stare right into his eyes. "As far as you want
to."
Yuri could get lost in his eyes, as cheesy as that sounded. Black was his
favourite colour. He curled his lips into his signature devious smirk. "Fuck.
Me."
Otabek's eyebrows shot up his forehead, and his gaze lost focus for a split
second. Yuri bit his bottom lip, watching as he took a moment to catch himself.
When he did, though, it was like a different Otabek was with him on the couch.
He folded Yuri nearly in half, pushing his knees to his chest. Yuri had to
breathe through his mouth, panting so hard as he watched as Otabek traced a
single finger around his entrance. He saw Otabek's throat bob as he stared, and
he should have felt embarrassed, but there was something so thrilling about it
all. His eyes rolled back into his skull with the first finger, so thick and
long with hardened pads from guitar strings, so different from his own and just
like how he'd imagined.
This wasn't the first time for either of them, but fuck if anyone else had
taken this much time to prepare him. By the time Otabek took himself in hand to
line up, Yuri was a mass of long trembling limbs and sweat, holding onto
Otabek's shoulders with all his strength, digging his nails into his shoulders.
Otabek was biting his lips; Yuri knew he was trying so hard to keep control. He
didn't want him to, though. They locked gazes again, eyes hot like coals.
Yuri's heart thudded heavily against his ribs and he held his breath. Otabek
pushed in without looking away, he went slowly, every single muscle in his body
was straining and Yuri could tell that he was clenching his jaw. He appreciated
it, though, Otabek was huge to put it mildly, and well he hadn't even thought
about having sex with anyone else since he'd kissed him six months ago. They
were both breathing heavier when he bottomed out.
Yuri's neck felt like a soggy noodle as he threw his head back against the
couch. Otabek's mouth was at his neck again, biting and sucking at the hollow
under his ear, he could feel his breath scalding his skin as he breathed in as
deeply as he could. Picturing himself with a bond mark, was enough to make his
ass muscles clench, and Otabek and to pull away to moan deeply, nearly losing
his rhythm.
"Yura," he moaned, one hand tracing down Yuri's hip and thigh.
"Thought of you bonding with me." His words were all slurred and jumbled; he
gasped, scrabbling against Otabek's back at a particularly sharp thrust.
Otabek stilled for a second; Yuri felt him twitch inside of him.
He drew back again, to look him straight in the face. His cheeks were red, and
his eyes were glassy, even as a small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows when
he frowned. It was amazing, though, that he was still able of such coherence.
"That's a bad idea." His voice was definitely strained.
"I know," he muttered, breaking eye contact. "I just... Iliketheideaofit." It
was impossible to tell if he was blushing any harder.
Otabek's chest heaved as he sighed, but then the sigh turned into a chuckle.
"Someday, Yura."
Unable to stop himself, Yuri grinned widely. Despite the fact that Otabek was
literally balls deep inside of him, his chest went fuzzy and an army of
caterpillars went through metamorphosis in his stomach at his words.
 
So, that had just happened. Yuri felt breathless as he lay against Otabek's
chest on the carpet. His heart was still racing and he knew for a fact that he
was going to be sore in all kinds of places tomorrow. Namely his ass, he could
already feel the tenderness between his legs. Otabek's chest was dramatically
rising and falling as he gently stroked the small of Yuri's back with his
thumb. They should have done this yearsago. They both had wanted to. He knew,
from all the lingering hugs, long stares, shared drinks, scarves and beds,
sleepovers, dinners, and FaceTime calls. He didn't remember when he had
realised that he loved Otabek as more than his best friend, or when Otabek
realised the same thing. But, he would have pulled out his hair if neither of
them hadn't done anything about it. He let out a deep sigh, feeling his ribs
press into Otabek's stomach. Thank God for him, though. Yuri didn't think he
could have taken one more FaceTime call without saying something. His grandpa
was going to give him that annoying self-righteous smirk and repeat the story
of how he caught Yuri kissing Otabek on the cheek under the slide in the
playground when he was like six. Maybe he had realised he loved Otabek when he
was five? He scoffed, nuzzling against the middle of Otabek's chest as his
cheeks began to smoke. Well, if they hadn't come full fucking circle – and then
some.
"You okay?" he asked, trying to hide the fact that he was panting. As if Yuri
wasn't lying on top of him.
"Yeah." He squirmed, grunting when his lower back twinged.
"Sore?"
"A bit." Otabek winced, his face falling into guilty. Yuri slapped his
shoulder. "Stop that."
"Sorry."
He rolled his eyes and rolled off of him. A wave of tangled hair blocked his
vision for a second. Fuck, this was going to take ages to un-knot. When he
managed to get his hair out of his face and untangle the hair elastic, Otabek
was smirking at him. Scowling, Yuri made a slingshot with his elastic and stung
him on the shoulder. Otabek grunted and Yuri sprang to his feet, giggling, but
froze as he straightened his spine. God, his ass fucking hurt. He braced a hand
on the small of his back, and was that actually Otabek's cum sliding between
his cheeks? His face went to boiling almost instantly.
"Yura?" Otabek was reaching out to him from the floor. His hair was a mess;
some parts were stuck to his forehead with sweat, others stuck straight up in
clumps. It was impossible to tell with his dark eyes, but Yuri was positive
that his pupils were still blown. He looked like a fucking god. He swatted him
with his foot. It was unfair; he was a mess with this bird's nest on top his
head and  a sore ass.
"What?"
"Come back."
His blush went all the way down his chest and up to his forehead. "I'm gonna
fall asleep, and there's no way in hell I'm sleeping on your floor."
Otabek huffed in laugher and groaned as he propped himself up on his elbow. "Go
start a bath then. I'll be there in a second."
Yuri bit his lip to hide a smile. "You better have new soap. If I end up
smelling like fucking sandalwood and smoke, I swear I'm never coming over here
again."
Otabek rolled onto his stomach, arching his back to keep eye contact. "You damn
well know there's a bottle of your body wash still in there."Holy shit, those
were definitely scratch marks all over his back and shoulders. Okay, he really
needed to cut his nails, but short nails didn't look as good with polish.
Whatever, Otabek didn't seem to mind.
Yuri snorted and flounced as best as he could to the bathroom. "Stop staring at
my ass," he yelled over his shoulder.
Yuri had already sunk into the foamy water and pulled his detangled hair into a
bun by the time Otabek came into the bathroom with his iPad in hand. Yuri
grinned at him, pressing his back against one of the jets; it felt heavenly
against the small of his back. Otabek wrinkled his nose at the amount of
bubbles in the tub and Yuri rolled his eyes at his boxer shorts.
"Why the hell did you put those on if they're going to come right back off?"
Otabek scowled at him. "Because I have a sense of decency, unlike a certain
someone."
Yuri stuck out his tongue and flicked a piece of foam at him. "Who needs
decency when you had your dick in my ass like a minute ago?"
Otabek turned red instantly. "Why are you so vulgar?"
Yuri made a foam beard, mostly to hide the fact that he was blushing too.
Otabek shook his head as he set the iPad on the sink counter. In a quick,
smooth motion – like he was still embarrassed – he yanked his boxers off and
slipped into the tub behind Yuri. Water sloshed around the tub as they got
comfortable, Yuri sitting between Otabek's legs with his head against his
chest. He had pulled his tangled hair into a bun to keep it dry, but he could
already feel wetness at the back of his head.
"This is your song," Yuri pointed out as they fell into silence. Music was
playing softly in from the iPad.
Otabek's chest jumped as he scoffed. "How did you-"
"It's been all over the place, idiot. Of course I would look it up."
He knew without looking that Otabek was blushing. "I... uh,"
"So, look who's come a long fucking way since I forced you to make a YouTube
account." He felt Otabek's forehead against his shoulder. "Congrats by the
way." He twisted his neck to gently kiss his temple. "I wanted to tell you that
in person. But I've also been telling my dance group that I'm dating the next
Sia."
"Yura-"
"How many subscribers do you have now? Huh? Yeah, shut up."
Otabek huffed softly before leaning back against the side of the tub and
loosely winding his arms around Yuri's waist. Holding back a yawn, Yuri made
himself more comfortable against Otabek's chest.
"Did you tell your parents this time?" he mumbled, eyes already closing. When
Otabek tensed, however, they shot back open. "You didn't? Are they still on
about that shit?"
Otabek sighed. "They'll never not be on about that shit."
"Why can't they just be proud of you already? God."
Otabek shrugged with one shoulder, sloshing water into Yuri's hair. "That's why
I have you and Grandpa Nikolai."
Yuri grinned, turning around and straddling his lap. He hooked his arms around
his neck, getting suds in his undercut, and gave him a slow, gentle kiss.
 
"Where's Beka?" Yuri's grandpa asked almost as soon as he set foot through the
door. "I told you to invite him over."
Yuri rolled his eyes. "He doesn't need an invitation. AndI haven't been here in
six months and the first thing you do is ask for Beka?" He folded his arms
across his chest, pretending to be annoyed. It was worth the wide grin that
broke across his grandpa's face. He wrapped Yuri in a tight hug, groaning as he
tried to lift him. "Deda, don't – your back-"
"My back is fine." He patted the top of his bun, taking a step backwards and
releasing him. "Go put your bag down, dinner will be ready soon. Viktor and
Yuuri are on their way."
"Ugh, you invited them?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Yuri rolled his eyes and, as if right on cue, there was half a knock on the
door. The bane of Yuri's existence raced down the hallway, arms wide open.
"Yurochka!" He didn't duck in time. "Welcome home!"
"Let me go!" Yuri squirmed, but Viktor only held on tighter. "How did you even
know I was here?"
"We saw the taxi drive off." Yuri's head snapped towards the door where
Katsudon was taking off his shoes. He glared, narrowing his eyes to slits. The
fire in his eyes was not diminished at all by the fact that his feet were
dangling above the floor. "Okay, Vitya, that's enough."
He was let down in a heartbeat. These fucking idiots.
The smell of Grandpa's cooking was one of the few things Yuri missed about
Moscow. Freshly baked fisherman's pie, with boiled spinach mixed with the smell
of old wooden floors and tobacco. He had to take a moment just to take it all
in, closing his eyes when he felt his grandpa rest a heavy hand on his
shoulder. He would still have to watch his weight even if he was on forced
medical leave, but there was no way he was going to refuse his grandpa's food.
"So, what's wrong with your leg?" Viktor asked almost as soon as they all sat
down at the small, round table. Katsudon slapped his forehead and winced.
Tactless, as always.
Yuri sighed around a mouthful of spinach. "It's my ankle. I strained a
ligament; you wouldn't understand." Never mind the fact that he was a doctor.
An ENT, so it wasn't like he actually knew anything about feet. 
"Is it bad?" The insult didn't penetrate his big, stupid, shiny forehead.
"Well I can't fucking dance on it now-"
"Language, Yurochka," his grandpa warned.
"Oh, that's a shame," Viktor sighed, grabbing Katsudon's hand and entwining
their fingers. "Yuuri was hoping that you would come into the studio and give
the kids a demonstration."
"Viktor," Katsudon looked frustrated, but Yuri knew better. He cleared his
throat, and slowly shook his head. "I was going to ask you before we found out
about your ankle. You're still welcome to come in; I know the kids would love
to see you."
Yuri shrugged. "I'll think about it."
His grandpa scoffed. "You'll think about it? What else do you have to do; Beka
has classes all day."
Yuri felt himself blush and stabbed a chunk of mashed potato. Katsudon and
Viktor shared an amused look.
"So, you'll be free to babysit for us!" Viktor smiled widely at him.
"Who says I want to be anywhere near your spawn?"
"Nikitok, has been looking forward to see you," Katsudon said softly, knowing
full well that Yuri couldn't say no to the six-year-old. He blamed his damn
brown, doe-eyes. He didn't even like kids. Nikita and Amaya were no exception.
But they would end up at his grandpa's house sooner or later, and knowing
Nikita, it would be sooner. Fuck Viktor and his overpowering genetics.
Slamming his fork to the table, he got up making sure that the chair legs
screeched as they scraped against the floor. "I need a drink."
Katsudon babbled as Yuri rounded the corner into the kitchen, making a straight
line to the liquor cabinet.
"Yuri, you're still seventeen-"
"Relax," his grandpa's voice boomed over Katsudon. "No policemen are going to
jump out from anywhere. And who cares?"
He heard Katsudon clear his throat. Like he didn't know his older sister, Mari,
had gotten him drunk off of saké the last time she had come to Moscow. He had
been in the same room as them. He had drank from the bottle.
He took a snap of himself holding a bottle of vodka up to his face and sent it
to Otabek with the caption 'Viktor and Katsudon are going to make me babysit'.
Otabek was supposed to have been studying, but he replied suspiciously quickly
with a picture of himself smirking, reading glasses perched on the tip of his
nose. 'What are you talking about? Kids are great.'
He switched to text chat.
Beka:
I know you like them. Why the act?
Me:
It's not an act
Beka:
But you're great with them
Nikitok LOVES you
Me:
Kids are only fun when they go home at the end of the day
Beka:
I'll remind you that when you spend the night at Viktor and Yuuri's because you
don't want to say goodbye
Me:
Ass
I only did that twice
Beka:
:)
Me:
I will suffocate you while you sleep
He was grinning as he walked back out to the dining room with the bottle of
vodka and tucked his phone into his pocket before he sat down.
"Talking to Otabek?" Viktor asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"He's not the only person I talk to," Yuri grumbled, taking a swig from the
bottle. His grandpa gave him a warning glare before grabbing it away from him.
"So, yes." Viktor sighed, falling against Katsudon's shoulder. "Young love is
such a beautiful thing."
Yuri scowled. “Shut up! We're not like that." The lie was instinct at this
point. His grandpa scoffed loudly and Katsudon raised an eyebrow in
exasperation. Yuri didn't know why he even bothered. 
Viktor hummed then quickly un-pocketed his phone to type out something. Yuri's
own vibrated a second later.
The Idiot:
So that love bite you tried to cover up is nothing?
Yuri slapped his hand to his neck. "Shut up, you shitty old man!"
His grandpa hit him upside the head. "Watch your fucking language."
Katsudon erupted in laughter, laughing so hard that Viktor had to pat him on
the back as he choked. Yuri rolled his eyes at them. Next time, Otabek was
coming to visit him in Saint Petersburg.
Chapter End Notes
     All I'm gonna say is this is going to be WILD.
     =====================================================================
     I'll update this fic every other week so the next update will be on
     January 19th - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my
     Tumblr :)
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
There was no way he could tell Otabek this. Yuri bit his lip. Okay, maybe
Otabek had been a  bit  rough with him last night, but he had asked for it.
Yuri had ridden him until his thighs gave out then made him take him from
behind - it had been a good night once he had gotten Otabek away from his text
books. He blushed, God, they had really done that; it was no surprise that he
would have bled a bit. Otabek could not know, though, or he would never do
anything like that ever again. It wasn’t a lot of blood, he had seen more when
he broke toenails or popped blisters during dance rehearsal. Getting it out of
the fabric would be a pain though, he grumbled, slipping out of his underwear
and tossing them into the hamper; Otabek needed to do laundry anyway.
“I thought you were going to make tea,” Otabek grumbled, shuffling from his
bedroom, yawning and scratching his stomach.
Yuri shrugged, tossing the last of the dirty clothes into the washing machine.
“Your hamper was full.”
Otabek frowned, still groggy. “Okay,  I’ll  make the tea, then.”
Yuri grinned brightly, bending over for the detergent that he kept wedged
between the side of the washing machine and the wall. “Thanks, babe.”
“Yura,” his voice was all squeaky, yet still rough with sleep. Yuri looked at
him from over his shoulder, biting his bottom lip to hide his grin. “Put on
some pants, please.”
He turned away as his face grew warm and set the detergent on the corner of the
washing machine. “I know you like the view.”
Otabek groaned loudly in exasperation, banging his shoulder against  the
doorframe with a loud thud as he stumbled away.
 
Yuri rolled over in his tiny bed, managing to tangle all of his limbs in the
faded tiger sheets that his grandpa had given him for his twelfth birthday. He
grumbled, settling on his back and throwing an arm across his face. It was too
fucking early to be awake right now, but his stomach was rolling and spasming,
sending wave after wave of nausea up to his head. It felt like he was on a
fucking boat, like the time Yakov had taken him out on a yacht to meet someone
important or some crap, and he had gotten seasick almost instantly. Expect
worse, because it was seven am on a Tuesday and he was in bed with his
favourite stuffed cat pulled against his chest and if he threw up on it he was
going to be pissed. He breathed in deeply, hoping that would calm his rolling
stomach. It helped a bit, so he took another and another. But, fuck. He
groaned, biting his lip as his stomach lurched. Why was this happening? He
screwed his eyes shut and tried to take deep even breaths as he waited for the
wave of nausea to pass. But it didn’t.
It wasn’t until his grandpa forced him to get up, he moved from the bed.
Sitting at the breakfast table with his head propped in his palms, he breathed
in deeply through his nose. His grandpa was making tea; ginger was supposed to
help with nausea he said.
“Here.” He set down a steaming mug of tea in the space between his elbows. The
warm vapour felt good against his face, and the spicy scent did help a bit. He
inhaled deeply already feeling the worst of the dizziness fade. “Did you go out
last night?” his grandpa asked, sitting down across from him with his own mug.
“No. Beka still has class; he refuses to do anything fun until summer break.”
He scoffed, taking a long sip of his tea after blowing away the steam. “He’s a
smart boy.” He said with a small smile as he set down his mug with a clunk
against the table.  “So, why are you sick?”
Yuri wrapped both palms around his cup, still inhaling the vapours.“I don’t
know. Maybe there’s something going around. Maybe Viktor’s spawn gave me
something.” He ended in a loud gulp; his stomach was still trying to fight with
him.
“Did you eat anything weird last night?”
“No. I had the leftover borscht.”
He raised a sparse grey eyebrow. “You shouldn’t eat acid food right before
bed.”
Yuri grumbled, taking a slow, small sip from his mug.
“Is it helping?”
“A bit.”
“Good. Go lie down after this. I can’t have you being useless for the entire
day.”
Yuri rolled his eyes. “What a kind and loving grandfather I have.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And don’t you ever say otherwise.”
The tea helped, and after he had taken a shower he felt much better. Only the
tiniest bit of queasiness in his stomach remained. True to his promise, his
grandfather kept him busy from the moment he said he was feeling better, but
had let him go over to Otabek’s apartment later that evening. He spent the
night, knowing that his list of chores would only grow if his grandpa saw his
face. And, all the chores that day had him so exhausted that he tumbled into
Otabek’s bed without a word and was snoring within seconds.
 
Otabek was ridiculously attractive, even more so hunched over a thick textbook
with his glasses perched on the tip of his nose while he pressed the butt of
his pen to his mouth. Yuri was sprawled out on his bed staring; it was fucking
bullshit. He had been doing nothing but studying for the past week and his
exams weren’t until mid June; they hadn’t gone out one night since Yuri had
come home. And it was Friday; he was studying for exams he had weeks away on a
fucking Friday. This whole week he had done nothing but nap and watch Netflix.
He was about to pull out his hair if he didn’t do  something .
“Beka, come on,” he whined, locking his phone after going through his Instagram
feed for the second time.  No one  had posted anything new; they were all out
fucking partying. “Let’s  do  something.”
Otabek sighed heavily through his nose. “I’m almost done the chapter.”
“You’ve been reading for  hours .” He kicked his bare feet against the
mattress.
Otabek raised an eyebrow. “And if you keep on distracting me, it’ll take me
longer.”
This fucker. He had come all the way from Saint Petersburg for this fucker, and
all he was doing was studying. God, he just wanted to do something with him one
night out of the week. Well, yeah university was important, but still. It
wasn’t fair. He grumbled kicking his feet again and making the headboard bang
against the wall.
“Yuri,” Otabek warned.
He scowled, throwing his phone across the bed and got up. “Fine, if you don’t
want to do anything tonight, I might as well go home.”
Otabek looked up, tucking his pen into the valley between the pages of his
book. “I’m almost done, I have three more pages to go.”
That wasn’t even the point, though. He huffed in irritation; the skin at the
back of his neck was itching. “You can read the entire book for all I care, I’m
going home.”
Otabek tilted his head. “You know how important exams are for me.”
Yuri winced. Yes, he knew, but it was still annoying that even on a Friday
night Otabek wouldn’t take a break. He kicked his foot against the floor,
folding his arms across his chest. “Whatever.”
Otabek sighed, getting up from his seat. “Fine, I’ll take break.”
“You don’t have to just because of me,” he spat.
“Okay, what’s the matter?” he came up behind him wrapping him tightly in a hug.
“You’ve been grumpy since you got here.”
“I’m not.” He rolled his eyes. Things were just more annoying today, especially
right now.
“You are,” Otabek insisted. “You’re very grumpy.” He hooked his chin over his
shoulder, squeezing his waist lightly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He kissed the side of his jaw. “What’s wrong?”
Yuri sighed heavily, tilting his head away but Otabek pressed his lips to his
bared neck. “Nothing’s wrong. I don’t know I just feel… ugh. I thought we could
do something tonight, but if you have to study then forget it.”
Otabek smoothed his hair back from his temples and neck. “Give me ten more
minutes, then I’m all yours tonight.”
The irritation left him like a popped balloon. God, Otabek was too fucking good
to him sometimes. He bit his lip as cold guilt began pouring into his stomach.
He shouldn’t have even come over tonight, he had known Otabek would be
studying. “It’s okay,” he mumbled trying to pull away. “I’ll just go home. If
you need to study then study.” His throat was suddenly tight too.
Otabek tensed slightly behind him as his arms  loosened. “I… uh. I want you to
stay.”
“But you have to study.” He looked up to the ceiling. He wasn’t going to
fucking cry. Why did he feel like he was going to cry?
“Ten minutes… baby. I promise.”
“I don’t want to make you fail.” He rubbed at his face.
“You won’t. I needed to take a break anyway. What do you want to do?”
Yuri sniffled. God, he was an actual piece of shit. “I don’t want to do
anything. I want you to study.”
He felt Otabek’s throat bob as he swallowed. “Are you… crying?”
“No!” he pulled away, wiping his face roughly.
Otabek pulled him back, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and tucking his
head under his chin. “Bad day?” he asked softly, pressing his lips to his
forehead. “Dedulya told me you were sick.”
Yuri swallowed, leaning against Otabek’s chest. “I’m fine.”
He hummed softly. “Okay, how about you order us some dinner and choose a movie?
I should be done with the chapter by then.”
He nodded, taking a deep breath letting Otabek’s body heat chase away the
coldness in his stomach and chest. “Okay.”
He kissed his forehead again before pulling away.
“Beka? Do you think I’m annoying?”
Otabek raised an eyebrow tilting his head to the side. “Absolutely.” His cheeks
flushed and his eyes flickered to the side. “But… I - I like it.”
 Exactly ten minutes later they were curled around each other on the couch,
waiting for the delivery man.
“I’m,” Otabek cleared his throat before mumbling, “I’m working on a new song.”
He traced a pattern along Yuri’s thigh with his index finger.
Yuri inhaled sharply. “For Youtube or your class?”
Otabek bit his lip, the tips of his ears turned red. “Youtube.”
Yuri planted a wet kiss to his cheek. “Can you show me?”
Otabek hesitated for a few seconds, eyes flickering past Yuri's head as he
considered the question. Yuri felt his heart thudding, from where he was
leaning against his chest. “Yeah.”
He slid off his lap, grabbing his hand to yank him over to his studio. The
second bedroom of his two bedroom apartment was his recording room; Yuri
remembered him working after school and for two summers straight as an errand
boy for the mechanic, five blocks away from Katsudon’s studio, to buy all of
his music equipment. He’d gone with him to pick out a soundboard.
Yuri sat down in the squishy desk chair while Otabek opened his computer, his
cheeks reddening by the second. He clicked open a few files and pulled up some
recording program or other.
“It’s a bit rough still… I’m singing in this version.”
Yuri grinned, almost bouncing in the chair with excitement. “This version?” He
tilted his head sideways. “You’re not making  JJ  sing again, are you?”
“His voice is better than mine-”
“It is  not ! You’re just too fucking shy. Your voice is amazing; I don’t see
why you have to ship everything off to fucking Canada.”
Otabek swallowed thickly and shrugged. “It’s called collaborating.”
“It’s called bullshit. Anyway, play it. I haven’t heard your voice in  years .”
His blush took over his entire face. Yuri wrapped his arms around his waist,
pressing his cheek against his stomach, as he hit play.
 
“He made this himself?” Grandpa asked, eyes widening as the video played.
“Yeah,” Yuri answered with a grin, from around the rim of his cup of ginger
tea. Otabek’s Youtube channel was a mix of original music and covers or mixes
of popular songs. His most popular video was the video he had gone to Canada to
make with JJ. It was his song, but JJ was the lead singer while he had done the
back up and harmony. It was one of the few videos that Otabek actually showed
his face in. Somehow he hadn’t shown it to Grandpa, even though it was almost a
year old. “That’s why he went to Canada last summer.”
He squinted at the screen. “Is that Nasiv?”
“Oh my God, no!” Yuri screwed his face up. “That’s JJ, they don’t even look
alike.” He had met JJ on Skype once and really didn’t understand why Otabek
liked him.
“They could be brothers.”
“That’s gross.”
Grandpa shrugged, pulling the plate of freshly baked pirozhki towards him. Yuri
wistfully watched him take a bite out of one; his stomach rolled and he had to
take a deep breath, eyes shut and everything, to keep its contents in place.
“He seems like a nice young man. He has a good voice too.”
“Beka’s is better.”
He smiled. “Are his parents still giving him trouble about his music?”
Yuri wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think they know about his channel.”
He sighed heavily. “Fuckers,” he mumbled under his breath and Yuri nearly spit
out his tea.
“Deda!”
“They are. That boy is a musical genius - I was the one who brought him to his
piano  and  violin classes, I know. If they would just listen for two seconds-”
he cut himself off, banging the side of his fist against the table.
“They’re not  bad  parents,” Yuri ventured uneasily.
“No,” was the grudging reply. “But they're so fucking narrow-minded that it’s
stifling  me .” Otabek called them  traditional . Yeah, it was fucking
tradition  for every Altin child to study medicine or law in university. “Tell
him to come over for dinner tomorrow.”
 
“Hey, Yurochka?” Viktor poked him awake.
Yuri jumped, his head snapping up as he blinked and nearly slid off the couch.
“Wha?” Right, he was babysitting that night. He glanced around the living room,
the television was off now and the overhead light was on, shining warm and
yellow. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hunching over his knees, before
glancing up at Viktor.
Viktor smiled at him. “Yuuri brought the gremlins to bed. I’ll give you a ride
home.”
He frowned looking around the carpet, knowing he’d left the kids somewhere
around there. He spied Amaya’s stuffed bunny under the glass coffee table and
dragged a hand down his face, feeling like he was wading through honey. So much
for watching them. “What time is it?”
Viktor looked at his watch. “Eight forty-seven.”
“Fuck,” he swore shaking his head, to chase away the grogginess. “That’s not
even… God, that show was so boring.”
Viktor chuckled. “Yeah, I think you outgrew  Fixiki  a while ago.”
Yuri dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and held back a yawn. “They fell
asleep too?”
“Amaya was out like a light. Nikitok woke up when we came in.” He shrugged. “It
was past their bedtime anyway, and looks like it’s past yours too.”
“Fuck off.” Yuri rolled his eyes, but he felt like he needed three years of
sleep right now.
“Are you spending the night, or do you want me to take you home?”
“Home,” he yawned.
“Alright, let’s go.”
While Yuri was tying up his sneakers, Katsudon bounced downstairs, pausing at
the foot of the stairs before fluidly sliding up to Viktor’s side and snatching
the keys from his palm. “I’ll take him.”
Viktor blinked slowly, looking down at his empty hand then to Katsudon. “You
sure?”
Katsudon stretched up on the balls of his feet to peck him on the cheek. “Yes,
love. You’ve had a long day.”
Viktor smiled, catching Katsudon’s chin and pressing their mouths together
briefly. Yuri looked away, pretending to be busy with his phone.
“Is Viktor okay?” Yuri asked, waiting for Katsudon to unlock the car.
“Uh,” he paused, juggling the keys before sliding into the driver's seat. Yuri
tried his door, but it was still locked. “Sorry,” there was the click as the
door unlocked. “Uh, yeah; he’s fine. Just he was at the hospital from seven am
again today, and then we had that meeting at Nikitok’s school until eight.”
“How is he still walking?”
Katsudon shrugged. “He’s Viktor.” Well, true. “Thanks for watching the kids on
such short notice by the way,” Katsudon said as he started the car. “The
babysitter cancelled unexpectedly.”
“Nikitok likes me better anyway.” Yuri slumped against the door, resting the
side of his head against the window.
“He does,” Katsudon answered chuckling. “He’s trying to hide it a bit now that
he’s  six , but you should have seen his face light up when we said you were
watching them tonight.” Yuri snorted, covering his mouth as it turned into a
yawn. “He kept on asking when you were coming, he cleaned up his toys, made his
bed,  and  washed his hands twice -  I   can’t even get him to do that.”
Yuri cracked a small smile, but hid it from Katsudon, by looking out of the
window. “And then there’s Maya, who doesn’t give a shit.”
“Maya likes you too, she’s just a bit more subdued that Nikitok.”
“Everyone is more subdued than Nikitok.”
Katsudon tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know. I remember a certain four-
year-old throwing tantrums when he wanted Viktor to bathe with him.”
“Shut up,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. Of course Katsudon would remember the
dumbest things. “Oh, sorry by the way, for not coming into the studio
yesterday. I wasn’t feeling too well.”
“Yeah, your grandpa said you threw up.”
He rolled his eyes; was he going to fucking tell everybody? “Yeah, probably
caught something on the flight.”
“But you feel better now?”
“Yeah, kinda nauseated this morning, but I’m fine now.”
He glanced at Yuri out of the corner of his eye tilting his head sideways, and
giving him a small sympathetic smile. “Well, if either one of the kids vomits
tomorrow I’m leaving it right where it is for you to clean up.”
“Fuck off-”
“You can always come in when you're feeling better; there’s not set date. I can
just have the kids watch you dance in music videos on Youtube instead.”
Yuri rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, how’s Mila doing? And Lilia, and Yakov?”
“They’re fine,” he slumped into the seat, pressing into the headrest. “Mila
just got a contract with a studio in England. So, she’s leaving next spring.”
“Oh, that’s great news-”
“Yeah, for  her ,” he sighed loudly. “It means we have to find someone to
replace her.  And  I’ll have to find a new roommate.”
Katsudon shook his head. “How terrible.”
He cut him a sharp scowl. “ It is .”
 
“What’s this?” Yuri asked, as he toed off his shoes in the foyer of Otabek’s
apartment. It smelt rich and heavy with spices and oil, distinctly like Kazakh
cooking. He usually liked Otabek’s cooking but mild nausea had been plaguing
him all day. He didn’t feel like eating at all. He kicked his shoes underneath
the shoe rack Otabek had to the side of the doorway, trying not to inhale too
deeply.
Otabek grinned shyly, poking his head from around the wall to the dining area.
“I made us lunch.”
Yuri forced a smile, stepping up to him and wrapping his arms around his waist.
He stretched up for a quick kiss hello. Otabek’s smile was wider when he pulled
away. “What’s the occasion, though?”
He shrugged a shoulder, going back to looking shy - his cheeks turned the
slightest bit red. “Well, I’ve been ignoring you-”
Yuri slapped his chest lightly. “Shut up. I was just being whiny that night.”
He shook his head, squeezing his hip. “But you had a point. I’m kinda freaking
out about my exams this semester.”  
“Was it harder than the last one?”
“Yeah, a bit,” he sighed. “One of my professors is really difficult this year.
I haven’t gotten anything higher than an eighty-”
Yuri rolled his eyes. “Oh no, an eighty. You should just drop out now.”
Otabek huffed. “Yura…”
“I used to get  fifties , I didn’t give a shit. And look how that turned out.”
“University is different than high school. And Grandpa Nikolai definitely gave
a shit. What was the name of your tutor again?”
“Shut up.”
“No, it wasn’t that.”
Yuri glared at him, but then swatted him on the ass as revenge. Otabek jumped
and spluttered, going tomato red. Yuri stretched up again to peck him on the
lips before dashing away and leaving him short-circuiting. Worth it.
Otabek set down two plates of plov on the high dining table. Yuri’s stomach
churned unpleasantly  as he looked at the oily rice, yellowed with seasonings;
he combated it with a sip of water from his glass.
“Wine?” Otabek asked, brandishing a bottle of some french red from his
collection.
Yuri wrinkled his nose, holding onto the edge of the table. “No.”
“This one doesn’t taste like dirt, I promise. It’s sweet.”
Just the thought of eating was making the nausea worse. He didn’t even want to
be in the same room as alcohol. “No, I’m okay.” He had to slide halfway off the
chair to rest a foot to the floor.
Otabek shrugged, fishing out a wine glass from a cupboard and sitting down at
his place. Yuri swallowed, looking down at his plate. He should probably try to
eat something, apart from a mug of ginger tea he hadn’t had anything at all.
Otabek was already silently eating, one hand curled around the stem of his
glass. Taking another deep breath, he forked a heap of rice into his mouth.
It didn’t even make it past his tongue. The reaction was instant; his stomach
lurching, sending bile up to his mouth. He scrambled from the chair, probably
kicking it over, and ran to the bathroom, one hand planted over his mouth.
“Yura, are you okay?” Otabek stood over him, rubbing his back as he hacked into
the toilet bowl.
If he could have glared at him he would have. But his eyes were watering, his
nose was burning, and his stomach felt as if it was trying to squeeze itself
out through his throat. No, he was not okay. He rested his forehead against the
cool seat, screwing his eyes shut as his stomach told him that it wasn’t quite
done with making him feel like shit.
“Was it the plov; I tried a new recipe,” he asked softly, apprehensively.
“No.” He swallowed, gagging a few times before forcing up another stream of
stomach acid. Gross.
“You’re vomiting your guts out; there was something wrong with it.”
Yuri took a deep breath, and carefully sat back on his heels. Otabek was there
within a second with a cup of water. Yuri took it, carefully sipping, but even
the water sloshed around in his stomach. God, how did he say this without
making him go into instant panic mode. “Just haven’t been feeling too well the
past few days. It wasn’t your cooking I swear.” Otabek didn’t look too
convinced, folding his arms across his chest, a pressing his lips firmly
together. Yuri sighed, slumping against the wall and breathing in deeply,
praying that he was done throwing up. “Do you have any ginger tea?”
Otabek perked up. “Yeah, I’ll go make some. You, uh...” he looked helplessly
between Yuri and the toilet.
“You can leave me alone. I’m not going to fall over and die. It’s just a bit of
nausea.” He felt that way, though.
It was a miracle that he made it into Otabek’s bed without falling over, his
head was now spinning as much as his stomach. He dove under the covers, curling
around a pillow and tried to concentrate on anything other than the intense
nausea. Didn’t vomiting usually help? Moments later Otabek gently touched his
shoulder.
“Yura?”
He hummed.
“Tea is on the nightstand. Can you sit up to drink?”
Otabek sat behind him, letting him rest against his chest as he carefully sat
upright, keeping his eyes shut firmly. A hot cup of tea was pushed into his
hands and he gingerly took a sip.
“Do you want some drugs?” Otabek asked softly, feeling Yuri’s forehead with the
back of his hand.
He shook his head. “It’ll pass. It always does.”
“Always?” He combed his hair away so he could place a soft kiss to the back of
his neck. “How long has this been going on?”
He shrugged. “The past week. It’s no big deal.”
“Yura-”
“I’ve been sick before.” He took a long drink. It was helping, somewhat.
“You should probably go to the doctor. A week doesn’t sound too good.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You should.”
He let Yuri finish his tea in silence, curling around him when he lay back
down. Breathing deeply helped. The tea had helped. Otabek kissing down the back
of his neck, and smoothing his palms up and down his shoulders definitely
helped.
 
It was only a matter of time before Katsudon forced him to go to the doctor. He
wasn’t even feeling sick that day; he was fucking fine. He had even called to
make him cancel, but he had let it go to voicemail and pulled up in the
driveway a few minutes later. And was it some goddamn fucking rule that all
doctor’s offices had to have the absolute worst chairs?
“Stop glaring like that. You’re here now, so suck it up.” Katsudon said
cheerily. “You’re allergic to penicillin. That’s important.”
Yuri’s scowl deepened as he watched Katsudon point to a line on the form the
receptionist had given him to fill out. “My appointment was at one. It’s one
forty-five,” he grumbled, kicking at the leg of the chair next to him. This was
fucking bullshit. “What’s the point of setting a time when you always have to
wait.”
Katsudon sighed. “I think Vitya can explain that to you.”
“It’s fucking bullshit.” God, he should just leave; he wasn’t even sick.
“Hey, calm down, okay?” He gave him a small smile, reaching over to squeeze the
thigh Yuri didn’t even realise he’d been bouncing. “It’s going to be okay. I
know you're nervous, but we’re going to find out what’s wrong with you, then
it’ll all be fine.”
“I’m not nervous-”
“Yuri Plisetsky?” The receptionist called. Yuri’s head shot up like an ostrich.
“The doctor will see you now.”
He wanted to vomit. Ironic.
“Come with me?” he asked softly, turning to Katsudon.
He raised an eyebrow, before sighing softly. “You’re  seventeen , Yuri,” he
grumbled, but stood up anyway.
“It’s the second door to your left down the hallway. I’ll take that form,
please.”
He had always hated doctor’s offices. Waiting on his grandpa as tall men and
women in white coats talked utter nonsense, when the Podiatrist told him he
needed to take a break from dancing, even watching as Viktor’s residency and
exams sucked every bit of energy out of him, none of them were good memories.
And now he glared hard at the anatomy chart on the boring white wall.
“Yuri,” Katsudon’s voice was firm when he touched his shoulder. “It’s going to
be fine.”
He sighed, letting his shoulders slump, but jumped a foot when the door swung
open. And there was the fucking white coat.
“Mr. Plisetsky?”
Yuri nodded. "It's just Yuri."
He nodded. “I’m Doctor Sokolov.” He held out his hand, Yuri hesitated to shake
it. Katsudon gave him a one-armed side hug. “Please, have a seat.”
Yuri eyed the examination table pushed up against the wall. “On that?”
The doctor smiled at him. “If you want to.” He remained standing, until
Katsudon guided him into a plastic chair.
“So what are we here for today?”
He bit his lip, glancing to Katsudon as he clenched clammy palms.
Katsudon sighed softly for the millionth time that day. “He hasn’t been feeling
too well lately. He’s been nauseated to the point of vomiting a few times. We
thought it was just a stomach bug, but this has been going on for over a week,
so we just wanted to make sure it wasn’t something serious.”
Yuri held his breath as the doctor hummed, looking down at the clipboard he was
holding against his lap. “That is definitely not good. A stomach bug you say?
Have you been in contact with anyone else who was sick?”
“He just came home from Saint Petersburg.”
He nodded. “Alright,” he looked down at the clipboard again, clicking his pen a
few times. “Other than nausea, have you had any other symptoms?”
Katsudon turned to him expectantly, keeping his lips firmly closed.
“Uh, not really. I don’t think so,” he mumbled, turning back to his hands and
digging his nails into the fabric of his jeans.
There was a beat of silence. “It says here you’re an omega, is that correct?”
He nodded, feeling his cheeks heat.
“Do you remember the date of your last heat-”
“I’m on suppressants,” he blurted. Okay, he was definitely red now.
“Okay,” the doctor smiled up to his eyes. “That’s not a problem, don’t worry.”
He took a deep breath, trying to appear calm, but Katsudon saw through it and
squeezed his knee.
“And are you sexually active?” His eyes flickered to Katsudon, before he
settled on Yuri, unreadable, cold blue.
Yuri's eyes widened and his felt his voice slip into his stomach. “Uh,” he
couldn't say anything else. Katsudon squeezed his knee again, and he nodded,
screwing his eyes shut and waiting for the both of them to flip out at him.
They didn’t. Katsudon moved his hand from his knee to wrap it around his
shoulders instead. Yuri cracked an eye open.
“Okay, Yuri,” The doctor said calmly. He stood up from his stool, tucking the
clipboard under his elbow. “I just want to rule out a few things before we move
on to further testing. Would you be able to provide a urine sample?” He picked
up a small clear container from the shelf behind him.
God, he hated doctors.
Katsudon kept on stroking his forearm. He’d been silent since Dr. Sokolov had
left the room after Yuri had given him back the container. With his fucking
pee. He offered up a small smile ever so often, which was a good thing, because
at least he wasn’t blabbing about whatever. Yuri’s stomach was tight, his eyes
trained on the door and he could actually feel each second ticking away. He
couldn't even find it in him to pull out his phone although it had vibrated a
few times in his pocket. God, what if there was something actually wrong with
him? What if he was going to die, or worse what if he couldn’t dance anymore?
He’d kill himself if that happened.
“Do you think it’s cancer?” he asked bitterly, bouncing his leg and pulling at
the hem of his shirt.
“ What ?” Katsudon did a double take before he settled on frowning. His glasses
slipped down his nose when he whipped his head around.
“What if I have cancer?”
“You don’t have cancer.”
“They say you don’t notice stomach cancer until it’s too late.”
“No, it’s painful from the start. You don’t have cancer.”
Yuri huffed. “I might.”
He swatted his shoulder. “Shut up. It’s not.”
“But what if-”
The door swung open and Dr. Sokolov, strode in reading from a new set of
papers. Both of them zeroed in on him, instantly forgetting their conversation.
He sat down on his leather stool, before  looking up at them. There was a
second's pause, his face remained unreadable, before he began to talk with a
quick exhale. “I ran some basic tests, looking for spikes and fluctuations in…
various hormone levels.” Something about that sentence made Yuri’s spine itch,
while Katsudon drew in a sharp breath. He wheeled his stool closer to them,
tilting the paper so the both of them could see. Yuri just saw a jumble of long
words and numbers that made no sense. “Right here,” he clicked his pen and
circled a number, “there’s an increase in progesterone and oestrogen, and here
shows increased levels of LH and  hCG.” He knew those words from his health
class or something. They were hormones, they had something to do with heats and
-
“Oh, God,” Katsudon breathed, deflating next to him at the words. Fuck. His
chair suddenly felt like it was sinking.
The doctor straightened, flipping the front page back over the results and
clearing his throat. “Yuri, you're pregnant.”
The words hit him like a kick to the stomach. He lost feeling in every part of
his body except his stomach and chest which were tightening to the point of
hurting.
“What?”
The doctor gave a firm nod.
“I can’t be… I’m on birth control.”
There was a short pause. “It is possible for birth control to fail.There are
several reason why...”
He couldn’t breathe. The world was narrowing to a tiny, grey pinpoint. The
doctor’s voice was now a low rumbling noise and his chair was swaying so
dramatically that he felt like he might fall off. No. This couldn’t be real.
They were lying to him. It was a joke. A shitty joke.
“No,” he mumbled, the word left him in a woosh. His mouth went slack and he
couldn’t close it. God, what was he supposed to tell Otabek? His grandfather
was going to disown him. He… he couldn’t dance anymore. This was going to ruin
his career. His entire  life . He was fucking seventeen for God’ sake. He
looked up, feeling as if he was leaving his body, floating up to the ceiling.
He couldn’t see colours anymore.
“Yuri,” Katsudon, was kneeling in front of him, his big brown eyes boring
straight into his soul. He took both of Yuri’s hands in his, running his thumbs
over his knuckles. “It’s going to be okay.”
He collapsed into him. Something broke in his chest and let loose a flood of
tears. A loud choking sound tore itself from his throat. Katsudon’s arms were
tight around him, rubbing his back, stroking his hair and he was pressing his
lips to his temples and forehead.
“It’s going to be okay.” He mumbled softly.
But he knew it wasn’t.
Chapter End Notes
     And shit hasn't even hit the fan yet...
     I'm continuing on with this extra content thing like I did with WGAP.
     So, here are the deleted_scenes from this chapter.
     =====================================================================
     I'll update this fic every other week so the next update will be on
     February 2nd - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my
     Tumblr :)
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Chapter Warnings
     -Yuri’s thoughts get pretty dark here - could be disturbing to some
     - mentions of abortion
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
This was it; the world was ending. He couldn’t even cry anymore, like his tear
ducts had actually dried up. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Yuri
curled up against the wall of Katsudon’s bathroom. His whole life was ending;
he wouldn’t be able to dance anymore, and Otabek would leave him for sure,
because what sane nineteen year old would be like ‘yeah, let’s have a baby even
though I’m up to my ears in stress from one of the most competitive music
universities in Moscow, for which my parents fought me every step of the way,
so I have to be the best in my entire program to prove them wrong’. Yeah, a
fucking baby was a great idea. Not to mention his grandpa was going to murder
him then kick him out, because this was the exact same thing his mother had
done and look how that had turned out. God, he was such a fuck-up. A colossal
fuck-up.
He looked down at his stomach, with the rolls that always showed up when he sat
down like this. He hated them even more, now that there was a fucking baby in
there. Fuck, he was pregnant. Okay, he had lied before; his tear ducts hadn’t
dried up. And now his stomach was gurgling and clenching, making him gag. God,
he should be able to just vomit it out. He didn’t want it; he didn’t want a
fucking baby. He dug his nails into his stomach, gritting his teeth against the
almost razor-like sensation. He didn’t fucking ask for this.
He screamed, banging the side of his fist against the tiled wall. His voice was
raw and his throat hurt from vomiting. No! Just no no no no no no no! Fucking
no! This wasn’t happening! It couldn’t be. No! The wall shook when he hit it
the last time and his wrist was now throbbing and red. He cradled it to his
chest, wincing as the slightest pressure on it sent painful jolts up his arm.
Great. What was he even supposed to tell Lilia and Yakov? He was there on a
fucking scholarship. He had literally one chance, and he fucked it up. His
vision went blurry all over again.
How could everything he had ever worked for come crashing down in a few
moments? It wasn’t fucking fair! He didn’t ask for this; he didn’t want it. He
pressed his palm into his stomach pushing until it hurt and he gagged again.
Fuck.
“Yuri?” Katsudon was knocking on the bathroom door. “Do you think you can eat
something? It’s almost dinner time.”
Yuri wiped his face with the back of his hand. He wanted to yell at him, but he
couldn’t find it in himself. He curled up tighter, pushing himself further into
the space between the toilet and the wall.
“Yuri?” The doorknob jiggled. “Yuri, please. You need to eat something.” There
were a few moments of silence before he sighed loudly. “Viktor is bringing the
kids home soon. If you’re still in there when they get back there’s gonna be a
lot of questions.”
Fuck. Slowly, he forced himself to his feet, biting his lip hard. His knees
weren’t working properly and his entire body was stiff for sitting curled up so
tightly for so long. But Katsudon was right, and he wouldn’t be able to take
any of the questions. Not right now. And Nikita would have a lot of them. He
unlocked the door and stumbled into a pair of waiting arms. He didn’t say
anything, he just hugged.
There was a long comforting silence, where Katsudon stroked his hair and wiped
away the tear tracks on his cheeks. “I’ll draw you a bath, okay?” Katsudon said
softly, smoothing a lock of hair from his forehead. Yuri nodded. “Do you think
you can eat some dinner?” He shook his head. Katsudon's hug tightened briefly.
“I have some candied ginger, I found it helped loads with the nausea. You
should have some toast or crackers too, something light-”
“Did you know?” Yuri asked.
“Know?”
“Did you figure out why I was sick?”
There was the briefest of pauses, before Katsudon lead him from the bathroom to
the living room and sat him down on the couch. “I… suspected it, I guess. I
know the symptoms. But I knew you were on birth control, so I honestly thought
that it could have been something else as well. I didn’t want to… say
anything.”
Yuri sagged against him. So, that probably meant grandpa had suspected
something too. Fuck. “What about Viktor, or my Grandpa?”
“Viktor and I were more or less on the same page.” He sighed, rubbing circles
into Yuri’s back. “I’m not sure about your grandpa, but I know he was very
concerned. It’s going to be okay, we all love you, and we’ll help you through
this. No matter what, okay?”
Yuri scoffed bitterly. Katsudon didn’t know his Grandpa, if he thought that’s
how it would go. Yuri nearly jumped when they heard the clank and rumble of the
garage door opening. Seconds later, there was the unmistakable sound of Nikita
and Amaya arguing and Viktor trying to calm them down. Katsudon sighed,
squeezing Yuri gently before letting go.
“Let’s go run the bath, before those two catch wind of you.”
Yuri nodded.
“Then we can sit down and talk once they’re in bed.”
“I don’t want to talk.” His voice cracked.
Katsudon nodded, guiding him upstairs. “Okay. Well, whenever you feel that
you're ready; I’m here.”
 
He woke up later that night when Nikita climbed into bed with him and snuggled
against his chest. Yuri startled awake, nearly launching the child off the edge
of the bed. He sighed softly, when he realised that it was Nikita, who had
snuck out of his own room to crawl into bed with him, and let him nuzzle
against his chest.
“Papa, said you were sick,” he whisper-shouted; he hadn’t really mastered
whispering yet.
“Yes, so you shouldn’t be in here or you’ll get sick too.”
“It’s okay.” He pressed a tiny, warm hand to Yuri’s forehead. “When I’m sick
Papa lets me sleep with him and Batya.” Yuri grumbled, burying his nose in
fine, dark hair that smelled of watermelon shampoo. “I want to show you my
drawing.”
“It’s too late for that, Nika-”
“I  know ,” he grumbled. “We had to draw our families at school today.”
Yuri hummed, yawning. “And what else?”
“Um,” he had to think for a while. “Maths. We did maths.”
“For the whole day?”
“No!” he giggled then gasped, covering his mouth when he remembered that he was
supposed to be quite. A corner of Yuri’s mouth twitched upwards. “We had snack
time, and Papa made me onigiri, and we got to outside today with Mrs.
Kuznetsova and she read us a story.” Yuri yawned, causing him to stop his
story. “Are you tired?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie; his brain was still struggling to keep up and today
had been, well, shit. He realised that he was pressing his palm to his stomach,
and ripped it away, clenching his jaw. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Yuri poked his belly and he giggled again. “You,” he poked
him again, “need to go,” another poke, “to bed.”
“I am in bed!”
This child. He poked him again and warm pudgy fingers grabbed his finger. “Your
own  bed.”
“Don’t wanna,” he giggled. “I’m gonna stay up all night-”
“Nikita.” Viktor was suddenly in the doorway. Yellow light spilled in from the
hallway. “What are you doing in here?” Nikita froze. Caught with his hand in
the cookie jar, he didn’t know what to do. “Papa put you to bed two hours ago.”
“I wanted to see Yuri,” he mumbled.
“Nikita.” He folded his hands across his chest, and Nikita perked up instantly.
“You have until I count to three to get back to your room and into your bed.”
He scrambled from the bed, little feet pattering against the floor. Viktor
waited until he heard a door down the hallway shut before shaking his head.
“That boy.” He walked over to the bed, sitting down. “How’re you feeling,
Yurochka?”
Yuri grumbled, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest.
“Tired.”
Viktor sighed softly. “Well, we put aside some dinner for you, if you want to
eat later.”
“Thanks.”
There was short pause before Viktor continued. “You went to the doctor today.”
His stomach felt heavy. “Yeah.”
He leaned back on his palms. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. Nothing is
incurable.”
Yuri grumbled. “Except cancer.”
Viktor’s head whipped towards him. He almost felt guilty. “Yurochka-”
“It’s not.” He wished it was. It would have been easier. “Didn’t Katsudon tell
you?” He balled the sheet up in his palm and bit his lip.
“I didn’t ask him. I want to hear it from you.”
Yuri held his breath until he couldn't anymore. “What do you think it is?”
Viktor was silent for a few more moments until he sighed and ran his hand
through his hair. “Well, from your symptoms and this evening.” He scrubbed his
hair back from his forehead. “I think you’re... pregnant.”
Oh wow, so it was  that  obvious. Obvious to everyone but him, the fucking
idiot. He swallowed, ignoring the tightness in his throat and his prickling
eyes. “Yeah.”
Viktor didn’t normally shout, he barely ever raised his voice when he was
angry, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous. However, Yuri didn’t
expect him to spin around and pull him into a tight hug, crashing his head
against his chest a mumbling soothing nonsense.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” Yuri’s voice cracked again.
“I… no.” He sighed. “I didn’t think this would happen so soon, but no,
Yurochka, I’m not mad.”
“Don’t tell Grandpa.” He let his tears soak into his shirt.
 
“Hey,” Otabek’s voice was cheerful over the phone. He was the only person Yuri
would accept unsolicited voice calls from, even if he wasn’t even sure if he
wanted to talk to him right now. His stomach clenched and his chest tightened.
Fuck, and he had already thrown up today. “Are you free tonight?”
Yuri held his breath, glad that Katsudon and the kids were still at work and
school. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them.
“Yeah. I’m free every night.”
“Oh, was just wondering since you haven’t been feeling too well and all. I just
wanted to make sure. Or if Grandpa didn’t need you for anything-”
“Beka. You’re rambling.” He was nervous about something. Yuri clutched a throw
pillow to his stomach. The queasiness wasn’t going away; he flopped onto his
side, screwing his eyes shut.
“Sorry.” He swallowed. “Well, I got back one of my assignments today, and I did
a bit better than I thought I would.”
Yuri grinned despite himself. “How much better?”
“Uh… I got a ninety-seven-”
“Are you serious?” He shot back upright, swinging his feet to the ground as he
recognised the tiny spark of happiness igniting in his chest in spite of
everything else. “We’re celebrating! I’m coming over right now.”
Otabek chuckled softly, Yuri could picture him blushing. God, if only  this
could last forever, if he didn’t have to tell him about the stupid, fucking
baby. “It isn’t a big deal. But, yeah, I wanted you to come over for a drink or
something.”
“I’m already on my way.”  Maybe if he forced his smile hard enough he would
actually feel it.
He looked at himself in the mirror in Katsudon’s bathroom and winced. His eyes
were puffy, he was greasy, and for some reason was a few shades paler than
normal. So, he basically looked dead. Otabek would know something was wrong
instantly. But all of his makeup was at home, and there was no way in hell he
was ready to face his grandpa yet.
Okay, he might as well shower. That at least should help him feel less like
shit. The nausea was a different story, though.
 
“What’s wrong?” Otabek asked as soon as he opened the door. Yuri swallowed,
wrapping an arm around his stomach.
“Not feeling well.”
Otabek’s eyebrows widened and he stepped aside to let him in. “You didn’t have
to force yourself to come over here.”
“It’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around Otabek’s waist, planting his face into
his chest and inhaling deeply. His smell helped, faint spices and something
earthy. He could fall asleep right now and would wake up happy. “You wanted to
celebrate.”
“Not if you're sick.” He pressed his lips to Yuri’s forehead. “I don’t… want.
You shouldn’t have forced yourself.”
Yuri inhaled noisily. “I wanted to, okay?”
“Didn’t you go to the doctor yesterday?”
Well, fuck. That had come quickly. He was barely even in the apartment. “Yeah…”
He should have been used to his chest tightening this much by now and his
stomach dropping and cold seeping into his entire body. He tugged at the hem of
Otabek’s t-shirt; his nails grazed the waistband of his jeans.
He prodded after Yuri didn’t continue. “And?”
Fuck. Yuri swallowed past the blockage in his throat. Just fuck. He couldn’t
say anything right now. This was going to ruin them, and they had  just
started dating. He  couldn’t . Otabek already had so many things on his
shoulders, there was no way he could handle this mess as well. At least not
now. Yuri knew he had to tell him, but maybe after he was done with exams. If
he failed the semester because of him, then he honestly didn’t know what he
would do. Otabek had cleaned up enough of his messes anyway. The least he could
do was let him finish his semester in peace. God, he was going to vomit.
“Yura?”
“They don’t know yet. Something about more testing.” The lie flew easily form
his mouth, and a little bit of him withered to dust. He actually felt it. Just
let him finish his semester in peace, let him pass his exams. Then when summer
comes… well he’d deal with it then. At least they had three more weeks they
could enjoy together.
Otabek sighed, hugging him tightly. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, pressing his lips
to his forehead again. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”
Yuri screwed his eyes shut. He was the actual worst. His mother should have
gotten that abortion.
“Hey,” Otabek hooked a finger under his chin, gently forcing him to look up.
His eyes were so soft and fucking caring, that the rest of him turned to dust
as well. His vision blurred. “Hey,” Otabek said again, softer, with more
urgency. “It’ll be okay.”
Yuri bit his lip. It wasn’t; he was going to lose him in three weeks. But
Otabek was trying his best right now, and they were supposed to be celebrating
him nearly getting perfect marks on his assignment. The least he could do was
not fucking make everything about himself. He nodded, taking a deep breath,
bringing his hand up to curl his fingers around Otabek’s wrist. “So,” he
swallowed. “What assignment was it?”
Otabek blinked, but then a light blush spread across his cheeks. “Oh, uh, it
was from a few months ago. The professor was late in giving it back.”
“Can I hear it?”
“Uh,”
Yuri exhaled harshly, feigning annoyance and roughly wiping his face. “Babe.
You are an amazing musician; I don’t get why you’re so scared about sharing
your music. I mean everything you put up on YouTube gets over 500,000 views -
yes, I’ve kept track! And you barely show your face so I know It’s not just
because you’re hot.”
“Yura-”
“Oh stop it. You are. You know you are.”
His was biting his bottom lip, his arms were loose around his waist, and his
face was red. “No, this one was an essay."
“Boring,” he sang, twisting away from his hold and kicking off his shoes. “So,
how are we celebrating?”
Otabek offered a small smile, coming up behind him and guiding him to the
kitchen with a hand on the small of his back. There was a bottle of red wine on
the the breakfast bar, and a glazed tort with tiny pink, icing flowers.
“You made a cake?” Yuri raised an eyebrow.
“Yelena, made a cake,” he corrected. “She and my mom came by earlier.”
“Is that why everything looks so clean?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Did you tell them about your ninety-seven?”
“Uh…” So no. Yuri bit the inside of his cheek. “They’ll see my grades at the
end of the semester. They know I’m doing well anyway.”
He slipped onto one of the stools in front of the bar, and propped his elbows
on the cool marble. “So your sister just turned up with a cake?”
“I think it was he friend’s birthday or something and she made too much
batter.”
“How convenient.”
“She asked about you by the way.”
“Me?”
Otabek sat down next to him, pulling the bottle of wine and two glasses over to
them. “Yes, I told her and Nasiv you were back.”
“Do they know why?”
He shook his head, uncorking the bottle. Unsurprising. He held out a glass to
Yuri, and he wound his fingers around the stem before hesitating. He eventually
slid the glass away, shaking his head.
Otabek raised an eyebrow before sighing heavily. “You’ll never know if you like
it or not if you don’t try any.”
“All wine literally tastes the same to me.”
“Okay, so what are you drinking?”
“Tea?”
He winced, ducking his head. “Ginger?”
“Yeah.”
He managed a slice of cake, scraping off all the icing and the jam between the
layers. Otabek watched him, rolling his eyes in exasperation when he slid his
scrapings onto his plate. Lilia would probably pop out of the sink drain if he
had eaten all that sugar.
“So I guess, it’s safe to say that you don’t want to go out anywhere tonight?”
Otabek asked, tilting his head to the side.
Yuri’s shoulders slumped. “God, if you had asked literally any other night…”
He shrugged. “Was just thinking we could walk around the park before it got too
dark.”
It honestly did sound appealing, and it wouldn’t get dark until like nine, but
his legs felt like lead, and there was this bone-deep exhaustion that he had no
idea where the fuck came from - well actually, he knew where it came from. He
ground his teeth together. Fuck it.
“Yeah, actually. Let’s do that.”
Otabek raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Yuri jumped off the bar stool. “I thought you wanted to go to a bar or
something.”
Otabek’s nose wrinkled at the suggestion. Yuri reached over to poke it. “When
have I ever suggested we go to a  bar ?”
Yuri giggled. “I don’t know, maybe you’re getting adventurous in your old age.”
He rolled his eyes.
It was warm enough that neither of them needed to bring a jacket. Yuri kicked
at a small pebble as they walked down a pathway, surrounded on either side by
short, green grass and neatly pruned trees. He hooked his arm around Otabek’s
elbow, leaning against his side as they walked. There were a few kids running
around a brightly coloured playground, with their parents watching from a
bench. He watched as a little girl with blond pigtails squeal as she went down
the slide. He and Otabek had gone to the playground everyday, without fail,
after school, even when Otabek’s parents had moved him to a different school.
Yuri snickered at a memory, turning to Otabek with a small smile.
“Hey.” He nudged Otabek’s side. “Remember that time we got bored of the
playground near Grandpa’s and went on an adventure to find a more exciting
one?”
Otabek scoffed. “I remember Grandpa yelling at us for nearly fifteen minutes
straight when he found us.”
“He was overreacting; we hadn’t even gone that far.”
“You were seven, I was nine; we walked four blocks, Yura. We had been gone for
three hours.”
“Overreacting. We brought snacks and water and everything; we were prepared.”
“We could have been kidnapped.”
“Oh my God, I don’t remember you being so against it back then.”
“I was  nine , and it was your idea.”
Yuri laughed loudly. “Of course it was.”
Otabek eyed the playground as well. The kids were complaining loudly as their
parents began to round them up to leave. “It’ll be free in a while if you want
to…” he shrugged, grinning.
Yuri snorted. “I would pay money to see you go down that slide.”
Otabek raised an eyebrow at him and frowned. “No.”
“Come on!” He giggled, tugging him in the direction of the entrance.
“Yura…” He was already blushing.
He dragged him to the swings and he grudgingly sat down, watching as the
parents finally dragged their kids away. The park was thrown into a sudden
silence and Yuri looked up at the sky as he lazily pushed himself back and
forth. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but it was this weird colour of the sun
wanting to set, but summer telling it not yet. He took a deep breath, letting
his eyes fall shut and pushed himself higher.
“Are you trying to go all the way around again?” Otabek deadpanned, but Yuri
knew there was a playful glint in his eyes.
He scoffed, heels sending gravel flying as he stopped his swing. “Shut up. That
was once - when I was like ten.”
“Once enough for you to nearly break your arm.”
He hadn’t cried, but Katsudon had told him that he couldn’t go to dance lessons
if he had a broken arm. So, he hadn’t tried again.
“Shut up.” He tightened his hands around the chains, but suddenly even that
motion was hard to do. Just the thought of the walk back to Otabek’s apartment
seemed impossible now. Sitting down had been a mistake; he wasn’t sure if he
could get back up again. He hung his head, letting his hair cover his face. The
light, airy feeling from the walk have evaporated, just like that and his eyes
started to prickle. This was fucking bullshit. He bit his lip until it hurt.
“Yura?” Otabek asked softly, his sneakers scraping against the gravel. “Do you
want to go back?” He shook his head, his throat too tight to speak. “What’s
wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”
“Just tired,” his voice was trembling.
“We can go back.”
Yuri shook his head.
“Yura, you don’t have to force yourself if you’re not feeling well.”
“No, I’m fine.”
Otabek stood up. “Let’s head back anyway.”
Yuri swallowed, well now the evening was ruined. He stood up as well, legs
feeling like he had ankle weights. Otabek pulled him into a hug, and he nearly
collapsed into him, knees knocking together.
“And you give  me  hell for not taking it easy, when I’ve seen your schedule.”
Yuri had to fight to keep his eyes open, Otabek’s scent wasn’t doing anything
to help. “You’re allowed to take it easy, you know, you’re allowed to feel
tired.”
Yuri sighed, stepping closer, loosely wrapping his arms around his waist and
leaning against his chest. That wasn’t it, that wasn’t it at all. And if Otabek
probably knew the reason why, he wouldn’t be so forgiving either.
He was quiet on the way back. Otabek didn’t mind, more than happy to walk in
silence, but held his hand tightly. When Yuri tumbled into bed, he curled
around him, kissing down the back of his neck. Yuri hummed, rolling over and
tucking himself under his chin.
“Grandpa sent me a picture of us the other day.” His voice was a deep rumble in
his chest, almost soothing in a lazy sort of way. “We were sleeping together
exactly like this.” Yuri snorted softly, wiggling an arm between Otabek’s ribs
and bicep. “You were in your ballerina pyjamas.”
“Those were the best pyjamas,” he mumbled, letting his eyes fall shut. He
pressed his nose to the hollow at the base of Otabek’s throat. He smelt so
good; every muscle in his body loosened like his smell was giving him a hot oil
massage. “Beka?”
“Hmm?”
The sleep was talking. “We haven’t been, like, officially dating for long, but
it feels like forever.”
Otabek’s gentle exhale ruffled Yuri’s hair. “We’ve known each other for
forever.” He felt lips against his forehead.
“I think I loved you for forever too.”
He didn’t remember hearing him answer, but he fell asleep with his arms wrapped
tightly around him and his lips pressed to his forehead. That was answer
enough.
 
It was nearly noon when Yuri’s phone rang from somewhere tangled in the sheets.
He rolled over onto his side, waiting for the nausea, which was almost a daily
thing now, but it didn’t come this time. Instead he felt groggy, like he hadn’t
just slept for twelve hours. He sat up blinking blearily, vaguely remembering
Otabek getting up for class and kissing him goodbye. God, he’s been so tired
last night. He phone stopping ringing as he searched for it, but started back a
minute later. Okay, someone really really needed to talk to him.
Dedulya. Oh fuck. Yuri hit the answer button his heart leaping into his mouth.
“Deda, what happened-“
“Yuri Plisetsky, get your little ass home this instant,” his grandpa yelled,
silencing him instantly.
He swallowed as his stomach tightened around a sharp knife. He was sure he
remember to text him that he was staying with Otabek that night. “I… uh… Is
something wrong?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, boy. Your doctor called.” If he hadn’t already been
in bed, he would have fallen over. He still felt dizzy, having to steady
himself with a hand on the mattress. Why had the doctor called? Had he told him
everything? Oh God.  Now  he was going to vomit.
“I” he swallowed, pressing his palm to his stomach, nails catching in his
shirt. “Why did they call?”
Grandpa drew in a sharp breath that rattled through the speakers. “They would
like you to book a follow up appointment.” He paused and Yuri felt sweat
gathering under his arms and at the small of his back. He was seriously going
to vomit right now. He pushed against his stomach. “You need to schedule your
first prenatal appointment soon,  or ,” he spat. “Or they’ll refer you an
abortion clinic.”
Yuri felt the world shaking. Did doctors normally follow up like this? Or had
Katsudon said something to them? He swallowed, but even his throat was shaking.
“I thought I raised you to be smart and responsible!” He had gone back to
shouting. “You have a career, Yuri, your whole life in front of you and you
throw it all away for what? To feel good for what ten minutes? For an orgasm?
Where is your brain? Didn’t you think of the consequences, of what could happen
to you? Do you even know who the father is? Or are you exactly like your
mother?”
That was a slap across the face if anything. He was right. He was right about
everything. He’d fucked up. Fucked up his entire life and probably everyone
else’s, too. Hot tears ran freely down his face and he tired to hold his breath
to keep from sniffling into the phone.
“Why didn’t you use a condom or-“
“I’m on birth control! It failed! Do you really think I would just go around
sleeping with people and-“
“Why did it fail?”
“I don’t know!” He squeezed his stomach. Nails biting into his skin.
His grandpa sighed as if he was carrying the world. And in a sense he was,
having to deal with this same shit twice now. “Is it Otabek’s?”
Yuri hiccuped, using his shoulder to wipe his face.
“Yuri, is it-”
“You don’t even care!” he yelled, slamming his fist into the mattress. “You
just want to yell at me, and what yell at Beka too? I know I fucked, up
alright. I disappointed you, and Viktor and Katsudon, and Beka, and everyone!”
He sighed heavily. “Come home right now.”
“Why? So you can yell at me more? Well, sorry, I’m a fuck up exactly like my
mother. So what the hell can you do about it?” He was shaking, entire body
heaving as he tried to hold back sobs.
“Yuri, come home-”
He hung up on him, throwing his phone across the room. It hit the wall and
landed on the ground with a sickening crack. Yuri fell sideways, curling into a
ball and tugging the sheets over his head. He couldn’t go home. He couldn't go
home and face the disappointment in his Grandpa’s eyes, not after all he’d done
to make sure that he’d grown up well after all the shit with his mom. He didn’t
deserve this too. Tears tickled as they ran sideways across his face. He knew
what the neighbours had said about his family, how they had looked at him and
his Grandpa when they went to the grocery store or movies. With pity, with
contempt, like Grandpa was scum and Yuri shouldn't have been there at all.
And now it would happen all over again.
No, he  shouldn’t  be here. He couldn’t let his grandpa go through that again;
he couldn’t drag Otabek into this either. Yuri sat up, roughly wiping his face
and went to pick up his phone. It still turned on, and the screen hadn’t
cracked. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, he found the the soonest and
cheapest flight back to Saint Petersburg.
Chapter End Notes
     I'll update this fic every other week so the next update will be on
     February 16th - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on
     my Tumblr :)
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Chapter Warnings:
     - Discussions about abortion
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
The studio was dark when he entered. Of course it would be, it was way past
closing time, and he had waved at the security guard on his way in. He didn’t
bother switching on the lights and he didn’t need music either. The waxed floor
was smooth against his bare feet and it was warm enough after a few minutes'
warm-up that he shed his hoodie, despite the cool breeze blowing in from the
open window. For as long as he had been alive, dancing had been the only way he
could just clear his head, just forget about everything: the next maths test he
was going to fail, his shitty classmates, and his mom. Grandpa had tried
signing him up for all kinds of sports when he couldn’t sit still in class, and
they had worked for a while, but Yuri wasn’t really a team player. Then Viktor
had brought him to his boyfriend’s ballet recital one afternoon, and Yuri had
known from then that dancing was for him. He tried everything from ballet to
hip hop, to ballroom and acro, and he’d been so good at it that the little
studio in Moscow had sent him to  Lilia Baranovskaya  – basically the mother of
dance – and she’d offered him a scholarship to come to Saint Petersburg with
the option of joining her company once he graduated high school.
None of that was going to happen now.
Yuri stumbled, nearly crashing to the floor, but caught himself on the barre
with his shoulder. Fuck. He couldn’t even dance now. He ground his teeth
together, tasting salt. When the fuck had he even started to cry? He dragged
his hand across his face, wiping away hot tears. Growling, he started the
routine over. The music was loud in his head, and he knew all he steps by
heart. The senior troupe was going to win nationals and most of them would be
signed onto big production houses or studios before the end of the year, if
they didn’t choose to move onto Lilia’s professional group. He had wanted to
continue dancing in music videos – there was always a demand for backup dancers
or even body doubles for singers or actors. It would have been perfect; and one
day he could have been dancing in one of Otabek’s videos.
But not anymore. Not any-fucking-more.
The streetlight stretched blurry shadows across the room. His movements were
long and fluid, flashes of dark across the yellow light. He stomped his foot
once, before springing into a modified pirouette then rolled  his shoulders and
hips, rocking onto the balls of his feet. His footsteps were heavy against the
floor, echoing in the heavy silence. He ignored the sweat dripping down his
back, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been dancing for, or how many times he’d
been through the routine, but he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to go back
to reality where he had fucked up so badly that his Grandfather hated him. He
didn’t want to go back to a world where Otabek might leave him, and everyone
was disappointed in him.  He took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping his nose
with his elbow. God, he could barely breathe; the air kept on catching in his
throat, and his nose was clogged. He paused to sniffle, dragging his hand down
his face, then spun in a slow circle, flinging his arms out wide and throwing
his foot out and turning to the beat in his head.
“What are you doing here?” He spun to see a tall, slender shadow glaring at him
from the doorway. “You’re supposed to be in Moscow.”
Yuri wiped his face with his forearm, biting his bottom lip to keep any more
tears from falling.
“What’s wrong?”  Lila stepped into the faint light from the window. “What
happened?”
Yuri felt his shoulders crumble. “I’m leaving the troupe.”
“What?”
“I can’t dance anymore.”
There were a few beats of silence before Lilia repeated herself, softer. “What
happened?”
He collapsed against the wall, narrowly avoiding smashing into the mirror again
and covered his face with his palm. “I… I’m…” he couldn't bring himself to say
anything.
“Yuri?”
Fuck. his shoulders were shaking now and he wrapped his arms around his
stomach. “I can’t do it anymore.”
Lilia sighed softly, gliding over to him and putting one of her arms around his
shoulders before guiding him from the room. His ankle was throbbing now; fire
traveled up his leg every time he stepped on it.
“I’m sure your leg isn’t thanking you right now,” she snipped, instantly
picking up on his limp as they headed in the direction of her office. “That was
foolish of you. You know the doctor said that you were to rest it for at least
six weeks, and only  then  were you supposed to start with physio. Or do you
never want to dance again?” Yuri hiccuped wiping at his face again. “Do you
think you can wait fifteen minutes before we go home?”
“Home?”
Lilia raised an eyebrow, gently pushing him into a chair across from her desk.
“I’m not sending you back to that apartment when you’re like this. You’ll spend
the night in my guest room.”
She gave him an ice pack for his ankle when they got to her condominium, and a
pair of pyjamas to change into after a warm bath. He wasn’t even surprised to
see Yakov waiting for him when he came back out into the living room. LIlia
pushed a mug of hot tea into his hands and sat down next to Yakov on the love
seat, across from him and the couch.  The three of them sat in silence for a
while; the only noise was the ticking of the ornate grandfather clock in the
corner.
Yuri stared into his mug, watching the steam rise from the almost black liquid.
Lilia didn’t drink milk and she barely ate sugar. He took a small sip, trying
not to wince at the bitterness.
“So, what’s this about you quitting?” Yakov asked gruffly, his hand tight on
the edge of the armrest.
Yuri bit his lip as his stomach started to churn, making the little bit of tea
he had drank feel like molten lava. “I can’t dance anymore.”
Yakov drew in a sharp breath, preparing his lungs to shout. “Why not-”        
“You do realise your injury is only a temporary thing.” Lilia cut him off,
after taking a sip from her own cup of tea. “As long as we follow the plans
from the doctor and your physiotherapist you’ll be back with us in no time.”
Yakov nodded in agreement. “We’ve been through this already, Yurochka. It is
essential for you to take time off.”
Yuri shook his head, setting his cup down on the coffee table so he could wrap
his arms around his stomach. How was he even supposed to say this? Just blurt
it out and disappoint two more people?
“Did something happen with your grandpa?” Lilia asked.
Apart from him hating him now? He bit his lip, screwing his eyes shut. “No, not
really.”
“Your mother then? Did she do something?”
Yuri ground his teeth together. “No,” he spat. She hadn’t been in his life for
ages; he and he was never going to let her back in.
She exhaled harshly. “We’re trying to help you, Yurochka. We can’t, if we don’t
know what’s ’s wrong. Now, please tell us, what could possibly have gone so
badly that my star dancer thinks he has to quit.”
Fuck. The tears came hard and fast and he hunched over himself, nearly touching
his forehead to his knees. His life was already ruined, nothing else could go
wrong. Plus, these two could never hate him as much as his grandpa did now.
“I’m pregnant,” it came out as a hiccupping sob.
“What did you say?” Yakov asked softly, his voice almost dangerous.
Yuri banged his fist against his thigh, straightening enough to glare at them.
“I’m pregnant!” He hadn’t meant to yell, but it tore from his throat and he
collapsed back against his lap.
“How can you be pregnant? You’re still   seventeen !” Yakov yelled.
“I know! Fuck, you don’t need to remind me! I didn’t do it on purpose!” He
screwed his eyes shut after the explosion, sinking into himself and sniffling.
Everything was going so, unbelievably wrong.
There was a short pause, where Yuri felt the couch moving beneath him and he
hoped that it would open and swallow him up. God, he had wished every night
since the fucking doctor’s appointment that he would wake up and this would
have all been a dream.
The cushion next to him sank slightly and he Lilia’s scent of roses and black
tea filled his nose. Her hand was heavy against his shoulder. “There will
always be a place for you at my company, Yurochka. This doesn’t change it.”
Yuri swallowed, looking up at her even though his vision was blurry enough that
he couldn’t see anything. “But-”
“People get pregnant every day; you’re not special. Sit up.” She waited for him
to straighten his spine before she continued. “Talent like yours doesn’t come
by every day, and the amount of work I’ve seen you put in is admirable.
Obstacles are a part of life, and this is a very big one, but if you think that
Yakov and I will let you go just like that then you have another thing coming.”
Yuri sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. Lilia scowled,
reaching past him for a box of tissues on the side table. “So, what is your
plan? Do you have one yet?”
“How far along are you?” Yakov asked, edging closer to them.
Yuri eyed him wearily, and swallowed again. “Around six weeks.” He paused, but
yeah. The doctor had said he’d been around five at the appointment. He didn’t
know how that was possible; he hadn’t even been in Moscow for five weeks.
“Are you planning on keeping it?” Lilia asked.
“I... I don’t know.”
“If you are, will the father be involved?”
A bolt of lightning ran down his spine. “I don’t know.”
Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose, the noise from his grinding his teeth was
loud. “Who is this asshole?”
Yuri blinked away a fresh set of tiny tears. “My boyfriend. I haven’t told him
yet.”
Yuri cowered from Yakov’s death glare. He knew it wasn’t for him, and made a
mental note never to let him meet Otabek.
“So who knows?” Lilia asked.
“My cousin and his husband, and my grandpa.”
“You didn’t tell Mila?”
He shook his head.
Lilia sat back, crossing her legs at the knee. “You can stay here as long as
you need to. But you need to make a decision about this soon.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, feeling as if Lilia had popped his stomach with a needle. “I
was going to tell Bek – the father after his exams finished, but, uh...”
“Well, let us know when you do,” Yakov said. “We’ll need to come up with
different PR plans based on what you chose to do with the baby.” Yuri nodded.
“Don’t worry, Yurochka. I know what they say in the movies or what old gossips
like to do, but you have your whole life in front of you still.”
Yeah, his mother thought so too.
“Have you eaten anything for the day,” Lilia asked, standing. “No?” She sighed
heavily. “Yakov can you...”
He nodded, standing as well. “Regular orders?”
She nodded then turned back to Yuri.  “And let your grandpa know you’re here;
he’s been very persistent with his calls.”
His eyes widened, but of course Grandpa would call Lilia. His phone had been
off for the past few days and he had barely even spoken to Mila apart from
telling her hi when he got back and the occasional grunt in the morning if he
got up before she left for the studio. He hadn’t really done anything actually.
He’d lost track of the days, only getting up when the nausea forced him from
the bed to the bathroom; he’d been spending a lot of time in the bathroom.
Later, after he’d hobbled into Lilia’s guest room, he dug out his phone from
his bag and held the power button down until his face was bathed in white
light. He had to wait a bit for it to boot up fully, but when it did the
notifications came rolling in like a waterfall. Grandpa, Viktor and Katsudon,
Otabek. Biting his lip, he set the phone down on his nightstand and slipped
under the embossed, floral comforter. He hesitated in reaching out for his
phone, glaring at the chipped, neon green polish on his nails. The cuticles
were growing out; they looked gross. He curled his fingers into a loose fist,
pulling his hand away from his phone. He ended up staring at the  ceiling,
holding his stomach and pressing  against it as it cramped. It was only the
buzzing from a new message that had him rolling over to check it.
Beka:
 Yura, please answer. I’m really worried.
Instant guilt gnawed at his stomach as well and he tapped open the chat.
Beka:
Are you spending the night again?
Guess not.
 Night, babe.
He scrolled down the chat, clenching his jaw, stomach sinking as Otabek began
asking if he was mad at him. Then Yuri could tell the moment panic had hit.
Beka:
Hey, Grandpa just called to ask me where you were. Yuri what’s going on?
Where are you?
Oh God, please answer
 Yura please, where are you?
Yuri’s eyes stung as he read to the end. Yeah, he was an actual piece of shit.
The last time he had made Otabek worry this much was when he was twelve; he’d
scared him enough to have a panic attack, and he had told himself that he never
wanted that to happen again. He couldn’t even remember what they had been
fighting about, just that he had run away and hid afterwards. He had Otabek
looking for him for nearly an hour, He listened to him running around and
calling for him with a sort of morbid satisfaction, but then it had quickly
turned into frantic cries and Grandpa had started shouting, too. When he had
come out of hiding he was sure that Grandpa was going to bend him over his knee
- he did later, but he hadn’t been expecting Otabek to be red-faced with tear
tracks down his cheeks, gasping for breath and trembling. Grandpa had ignored
him until he had helped Otabek to calm down and made sure he was home safely.
All hell had broken loose after then. He remembered feeling like absolute shit
that day too.
His fingers were shaking as he typed out a reply. At least Lilia had found out
from Mila where he was and had told Grandpa, then he’d passed it along to
Otabek, but reading his messages still hit him in the stomach.
Me:
 Hey
His phone rang a split second later. He took a deep breath before plucking up
the courage to answer. What could he even say?
“Yura? Oh my God, are you okay?”
Yuri swallowed, willing his voice not to shake. It was too much to ask for, it
seemed. “Hi, B-beka. Yeah, I’m fine, I just needed… I’m in Saint Petersburg.”
There was a short pause before he sighed. “Okay, thank god. I thought you’d
been murdered or kidnapped. Why weren’t you answering your phone? I was worried
sick. We all were.”
Yuri swallowed. “I… I just needed some time.”
There was another pause. “You could have sent a text.”
“Yeah. I know… I… I’m sorry.” His voice broke, and he curled into a tight ball
on his side.
“Yura…” Otabek’s breath rasped across the speaker. “What’s going on?”
It was like something actually broke in his chest. The next breath he drew in
came with loud sobs.
“Yura?”
Yuri scrubbed at his face with his free hand, but the harder he wiped, the more
tears came.
“Yura? Hey, it’s okay,” Otabek murmured. “It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay.”
He hiccupped, his shoulders shook and his stomach clenched and cramped. “I’m
sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry so bad, I didn’t think… I
didn’t think-”
Otabek didn’t even miss a beat. “Hey, Yura, it’s okay. I forgive you, you know
I’ll always forgive you.”
He shouldn’t. “No, you're mad, and Grandpa’s mad, and Viktor and Katsudon-”
“I’m not mad at you, baby. Shhh, we were just worried. We all love you so much,
Yura.”
“I didn’t want to stress you out.”
“It’s okay. I’m not... you're safe, and that’s all that matters. I’m not
worrying anymore.”
Yuri bit his lip, but he still sniffled, his breath catching in his throat.
Anymore. God, Otabek must have been beside himself, he knew how he was when he
got when he worried. He probably hadn’t slept or eaten or anything. Fuck, and
this was the exact thing he was trying to avoid. When was he going to stop
fucking up things? “I’m sorry…” He wasn’t even sure if that had been loud
enough for Otabek to hear.
“Look, Yura,” he went on. “I know there’s something going on that you’re not
ready to talk about yet. And if you needed to go to Saint Petersburg to figure
some stuff out then okay. Just...” he paused to take a breath. “Just... Okay.”
He sighed. “I texted Grandpa that you called me, he’s been really worried,
Yura, I don’t think I’ve ever,” he cut himself off again. “Just... Yura, just
please, don’t ever disappear like that again.”
He swallowed. “I’m sorry.” God, he was an actual piece of shit. He balled the
comforter in his hand.
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed again. “Call Grandpa, I... uh, I need to get back to
studying.”
Shit. “Yeah.”
There was a short pause where Yuri’s stomach cramped so hard he thought he’d
been stabbed.
“And Yura, I... Iloveyou, rememberthat, please.”
Yuri’s throat closed up instantly. “I... I love you, too.”
Yeah, then he should fucking act like it.
 
“Do you really think I can just come back after this?” Yuri asked as Lilia had
helped him out of the bathroom when she had found him hunched over the toilet.
The nausea – the morning sickness – felt like it was getting worse.
Lilia raised an eyebrow. “Are you taking anything for this?” He shook his head.
“I’ll ask around. You’ll lose far too much weight.” He hadn’t been able to eat
too much at dinner either, just some of the boiled vegetable side dish. “And
yes, you’ll be back in no time at all. I’ve seen countless dancers continue on
after having children. Your situation is a little more precarious, socially and
maybe legally depending on your choice, but you will be back regardless.”
Yuri held his breath for a moment, looking down his body at his stomach.
Depending on his choice. He slowly brought his hand to his stomach, shivering
as he touched it. Lilia’s hand on his shoulder made him jump. She squeezed it
before she stood up and headed to the kitchen. Yuri watched her back before she
disappeared around the wall, then slumped against the couch. Honestly, he
appreciated her matter-of-fact way of dealing with things. When he had first
met her, her strict personality and seeming lack of emotion had made him
nervous. But now, and especially with this situation, it was calming. And
suddenly the world didn’t feel like it was ending so quickly, like maybe he
still had a bit of control.
He called his grandpa once Lilia had left for the studio. Curled up on the
couch, with a steaming mug of tea to his side and a plate of sliced cucumber
and some crackers, he tapped his fingernail against his darkened and locked
screen. Lilia had made him promise to call if anything went wrong, or if he
felt sick again, and he had pretended that he hadn’t seen her put up a list of
emergency numbers on the fridge. He should have called Grandpa last night, but
after talking to Otabek, he had literally dropped asleep. There hadn’t been any
more missed calls from him when he woke up. Viktor and Katsudon had both tried
three times. He should probably call them, too, but Grandpa came first, even if
he was dreading the talk after how their last one had ended.
He picked up a slice of cucumber, digging his nail into the centre, before
taking a small bite. Lilia had sprinkled them with pink Himalayan salt or some
bullshit like that. What was he even supposed to say to Grandpa when he called?
What if he didn't want to talk to him, or just wanted him to disappear like his
mother? Yuri shook his head, reaching for his tea next. No, he’d been trying to
call him all this time; he wanted to talk to him. Maybe to yell at him more,
but he deserved it. He had fucked up big time. Holding his breath as his
stomach clenched around his breakfast, he unlocked his phone. He didn’t know
that pressing a button would have ever taken so much strength.
“Yuri-”
 “Deda,” he began softly, praying that his voice wouldn’t break. “I’m sorry-”
“No, I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily. “You left because of what I said and you
could have gotten hurt, or killed, or worse.” Yuri gulped. “I shouldn’t have
said those things; you're a smart and beautiful boy, and... mistakes happen to
everyone. I... just you are not your mother, you're nothing like her. I’m
sorry.”
Yuri swallowed, pulling his knees to his chest. “I never wanted to put you
through this again.”
“I know it wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t the ideal situation with your mother,
but I got you out of it, so maybe this will be better.”
Something cold dripped down his spine. He bit the inside of his cheek, screwing
his eyes shut. “I... I don’t know if I’m keeping it.” There was an awkward
pause before Yuri winced and continued. “I mean, I have to talk to Beka, but
I...” he swallowed. “An abortion might be the better choice.” He hummed low,
and Yuri could picture his face. God, he on a roll with the disappointment; but
his mouth kept on moving. “I know how you and Babulya feel about that, but
maybe my mother hated me so much because she was forced-”
“It’s your choice.” His voice was clipped.
Yuri winced again; he shouldn’t have said it like that. “Deda, please-”
He drew in a loud breath, which sounded almost painful. “Please what? You
decided to act like an adult and get yourself pregnant then you can make an
adult choice what to do about it.”
Yuri felt himself deflate and it was suddenly hard to hold his phone up, hard
to sit upright, or even keep his eyes open. But a tight, wiry ball of pure rage
was forming in his stomach. He ground his teeth, breathing through his nose.
“Okay, fine. But I can also choose if I want you to be involved or not.”
Grandpa stuttered for a moment, but Yuri was already seeing red. “If you don’t
want to deal with all this, then I can just leave; you don’t have to see me or
hear from me ever-”
“ You know I would never want that !” Yuri’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected
him to shout. “Don’t you even suggest that I would want you gone!”
He exhaled forcefully, glaring at his breakfast. “Then if I decide to have an
abortion-”
“I won’t stop you.”
“But you won’t be happy about it.”
“I... Yuri.” He sighed again. “It won’t sit right with me, but I... your
happiness means more.”
Yuri’s breath hitched; the anger evaporated just like that. “Deda...”
“We... have a lot to talk about when you come home.”
Yuri sighed softly, curling his fingers around the edge of a throw pillow. “My
mother?”
“Yes, and a few other things. With Beka too.”
“...Yeah.”
“Do know when you’re coming home?”
“I, uh, I have to sort some stuff out with Lilia and Yakov.”
“Okay, well take as long as you need, Yurochka.”
He sounded sad.
 
Yuri thought that wearing leggings would have been a good idea rather than
spending the whole day in sweatpants. Except he was fucking bloated. The
morning sickness felt like it was getting worse; sometimes the nausea kept him
in bed and had Lilia hovering over him like a ruffled hen. She had read
somewhere that frequent, small meals would help, and that an empty stomach
would only make it worse, so she shoved healthy snacks into his hands at every
opportunity she could and glared at him until he ate them. He suddenly couldn’t
stand anything with garlic or tomato sauce, and he didn’t miss the pursed lips
when she had sent Yakov home with a tub of roasted-garlic flavoured hummus. He
had felt bad about that for nearly an entire week.
 But he was bloated; and he never bloated. Glaring at his stomach in the
mirror, he pressed a palm to it, pushing in. He was at eight weeks now, and he
had no clue what that meant expect he was still nauseated and exhausted all the
time. Basically everything was a shitshow. He turned sideways and sucked in his
stomach, it went back to being flat – like how it was supposed to be, but the
moment he released it back to looking swollen. Fuck.
He took out his phone, holding it up for a high-angle selfie, but he could
still see that his stomach wasn’t flat. Fuck again. His Snapchat and Instagram
had been suffering these past few weeks. He didn’t feel like posting shit and
he looked like shit. He locked his phone, squeezing his fingers around the
sides. And he was only going to get fatter. Great.
Well, it was going to be another sweatpants day, not like he was going anywhere
anyway. Definitely not with him having to pee every five seconds, or vomit if
he fucking smelled something. He ripped off his leggings and picked up his
sweatpants from the floor, but he dove back into bed without putting them on.
He pulled the covers up to his chin, rolling onto his side as he scrolled
through his Instagram feed. People dancing, makeup, parties, nail art, the
troupe was learning new choreography for the next competition. He sighed
hesitating to like the video, but doubled tapped and quickly scrolled before he
saw the heart turn pink. He should have been there. Fuck. He locked his phone
when he felt his eyes prickle, but as soon as the screen when dark it began to
ring. Otabek. He wiped his face and cleared his throat before answering.
“Hey, babe, what’s up?”
“Hey, just about to head out for one of my exams.”
Oh shit, he should have been the one to call. “Yuck. Good luck.”
“Thanks. So, what’s up with you today?”
Yuri hesitated, slowly kicking his bare legs along the mattress. “Uh, nothing.”
Otabek hummed. “Please tell me you're not still in bed.”
“Fuck off.”
“Yura, it’s almost  noon .”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well it’s not like I have anything to do.”
“Ankle still hurting?”
“Yeah. It’s a bitch; I can’t even go jogging.”
“Well, you’ll start phiso soon, right?”
“Yeah, I... uh. I’m actually coming home next week. Lilia and Yakov want me to
take a little more time off.” He bit his lip, curling around himself a little
bit tighter.
“Oh, that’s good, I guess. We’ll get summer together.”
“Yeah.” That should have been more exciting.
“I got the bike fixed, by the way. We can probably do a few day trips-”
“Fuck yes!” He shot upright, a grin fighting its way onto his face.
He chuckled. “We’ll have to pick a few places and-” he cut himself off with a
rough breath. “I, uh, need to get going, Yura.”
For some reason his stomach sank. “Yeah, okay. Call me when you’re done?”
“Of course. If I don’t, assume that the exam killed me-”
“Oh, shut up. You’ll ace it. I know you will.”
“We’ll see.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled softly. “Bye, Yura. Love you.”
He always said it first. “Love you too.”
Yuri fell back to his pillow with all the energy sapped from his entire body.
But, he felt almost giddy and he knew he was smiling.
Chapter End Notes
     I'll update this fic every other week so the next update will be on
     March 2nd - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my
     Tumblr :)
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm ahead of schedule and didn't see the point in waiting until
     friday. So here, early chapter :)

     =====================================================================

     Chapter Warnings:
     -Sexual content
     - Mention of abortion
     - Mention of child abuse
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Otabek saw Yuri before Yuri saw him. Groggy from the flight and, well, fucking
growing a baby inside of him, he wondered around the arrivals area in a sort of
daze before a black motorcycle pulled up beside him and the engine revved so
loudly Yuri jumped and screamed.
“Beka, you ass!” he yelled.
Otabek grinned as he cut the engine and kicked down the foot stand. “Didn’t you
hear me?” He asked, pulling off his helmet and hooking it on one of the
handlebars. He pulled Yuri into a tight hug, tucking him under his chin. Yuri
breathed in deeply, his nose against his neck, and he felt the tension he’d
been carrying all throughout the flight disappear. He smelled so fucking good,
warm, spicy, with hints of leather and soap. He leaned further into him,
winding his arms around his waist and tugging at the hem of his leather jacket.
His knees felt like jelly.
“Hey, Yura, don’t fall asleep on me.” He squeezed him gently before pulling
away.
Yuri hummed, taking one last deep breath and shaking his head. He looked up at
Otabek, who was fighting off a smile. “What?”
He bit his lip. “Nothing. Just happy you're back.”
Yuri’s cheeks heated, and he looked away. He sighed softly, before stretching
up and pecking him on the lips. Otabek startled slightly, but kissed him back,
short and sweet, before pulling away.
“Are you sure this isn’t too much? Don’t you have an exam today?”
Otabek raised an eyebrow, pausing in the middle of fishing out Yuri’s cat-eared
helmet from under the seat. “It’s Saturday, babe. And my last exam was on
Thursday.” He should have known that. “And I’m here now; it’s a bit too late to
be asking that.”
Yuri huffed, fastening his helmet, and, after making sure his bag was secure on
his back, settled on the bike behind Otabek. Otabek stroked his hands, clasped
at his stomach.
“Are we going to my place or Grandpa’s?”
“Yours.”
He could get to Grandpa tomorrow; he was way too tired to even think about all
they had to say to each other. Otabek squeezed his hand before starting the
engine. Yuri’s stomach rolled with the vibrations from the bike, as he pressed
the side of his face against Otabek’s shoulder; his cheek smushed uncomfortably
against the inside of the helmet. The mid-afternoon sun was beating down on
them, but the wind that billowed past him and snuck under his denim jacket was
like ice. He couldn’t stop himself from trembling and hoped that Otabek
couldn’t feel it. Grandpa wasn’t the only person he had to talk to.
 
Yuri couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up his throat as Otabek kissed
across his cheeks. They were swaying as they stood in the entryway of his
apartment, only far enough inside for the door the swing shut. Yuri dug his
hands into Otabek’s back pockets as Otabek threaded his fingers through his
hair. He finally found Yuri’s mouth after kissing almost everywhere else on his
face. And Yuri breathed in deeply through his nose as their mouths joined. Eyes
fluttering shut, Yuri let himself get lost. Even after what he had done, how
much he had made him worry, Otabek hugged him and kissed him like it didn’t
matter. He didn't deserve him. He tried to pull away, but Otabek followed him,
moving until Yuri’s back was pressed firmly against the wall and he had nowhere
else to go. Otabek cupped his jaw, his fingers tickling his ear and Yuri gave
in again. If only he had know Otabek was this good at kissing, he would have
started dating him much sooner. They’d already been almost there for nearly
three years anyway. But then, his stomach started to churn cold, then he
probably would have ended up pregnant a lot sooner too. He pulled away, banging
the back of his head against the wall. The warmth was gone and his spine
itched, he could even feel himself starting to sweat.
“Babe?” Otabek mumbled, his eyes still half closed, his mouth searching.
Yuri’s heart was racing. He needed to tell him; he had to. Otabek’s fingers
ghosted up his sides and he just looked so calm and fucking happy, that Yuri
couldn’t take it away from him just then. He shook his head, hurriedly pressing
his lips to Otabek’s. He kissed frantically, clutching the back of Otabek’s
jacket and holding on tight.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, worrying Otabek’s bottom lip with his teeth.
Otabek huffed out a short laugh, before he sealed their mouths together,
sliding his tongue against Yuri’s. The hand on his cheek was there to guide as
much as it was to comfort, and Yuri placed his fingers against his wrist.
“It’s okay,” he whispered into the kiss. “You’re here now. You're back.”
“I...” he shook his head, allowing himself to melt against Otabek’s chest.  
Otabek paused, waiting for him to continue, but when he didn’t, a knee wormed
itself between Yuri’s thighs. Okay, this he could do; he rolled his hips
against Otabek’s. Anything that could help him forget how fucked his life was
turning out to be was welcome.
“Do you think we can make it to the bedroom?” he smirked, grazing his lips
against Otabek’s.
His throat bobbed, and there was a dusting of pink on his cheeks. “If you're
not too tired...”
Yuri rolled his eyes. He had literally gotten him pregnant, but was still shy
about sex. Well, he didn’t know he’d gotten him pregnant yet. Fuck. Ugh, that
would come later; it wasn’t the right time now. Flinging his arms around
Otabek’s neck and pressing his fingertips to his undercut, he pushed those
feeling away. He pulled him closer, feeling the air leave Otabek’s lungs in a
rush.
“Are you looking for an excuse?”
He cleared his throat, the pink growing on his cheeks. “Of course not, just
that... I was just wondering if you were in the... mood.”
Yuri bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. How could he be so hot, yet so
cute?  “I’m in the mood now.”
 
Yuri shivered as Otabek’s callused fingers ran along his bare thigh. He felt
like he was burning up, a ferocious heat was building deep in his stomach.
Otabek sat between his spread legs, bracing himself on an elbow as he peppered
this side of Yuri’s neck with nips and kisses.
“Ready, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Yuri grunted. He’d been ready even before Otabek had decided to work his way up
to three fucking fingers to prep him. Like he actually needed it, like he was
so wet he could feel it between his thighs and ass cheeks.
“Fuck, Beka,” he panted. “If you don’t get in me  now- ”
He cut him off, chuckling uneasily. Okay, too vulgar. It wasn’t like they were
literally about to have sex anyway. He squirmed, spreading his legs wider and
trying to just breathe. Otabek was blushing down to his chest as Yuri felt him
shift, and when he glanced down their bodies, he saw him take himself in hand
to line up. It was almost a relief when he felt him push inside. Otabek’s jaw
was clenched, and he screwed his eyes shut as he slowly slid in. Holding, his
breath, Yuri let him take as long as he needed his entire body tingling and
hot.
A woosh of air left Otabek’s lungs as he bottomed out, and Yuri’s eyes were
already halfway rolled into the back of his head. Far away, he hoped that his
nails weren’t breaking skin, from how tightly he was holding on to Otabek’s
arms. So fucking full. He bit his lip, relishing the stretch and the heaviness
of the hot cock inside of him. He shivered, muscles contracting around Otabek.
Otabek leaned forward, pressing his face to Yuri’s neck, before he started to
move. He started off slow and shallow, working a spot under Yuri’s ear with his
mouth. Yuri felt like he was floating, the only thing that was real was Otabek.
He pressed his fingers to the muscles on his back, shifting his hips so that
each thrust could hit deeper. He was most definitely moaning, loud and high,
but he couldn’t quite hear himself over Otabek’s pants and grunts.
Otabek swore softly, before taking Yuri’s earlobe between his teeth. “I’m not
going to last long, baby.” He pushed in, pausing when his hips were pressed
flush to Yuri’s ass. “Look at what you do to me.”
Yuri struggled to catch his breath, snaking a hand down his own body to grasp
his cock. He pumped it a few times, biting his lip. “Go on then, let’s-”
Otabek batted his hand away, replacing it with his own. Yuri hissed, every
single muscle in his body contracted. Otabek pumped him in time with his
thrusts, to some secret beat in his head. Yuri’s toes curled and he threw his
head back, baring his entire neck. Otabek latched on instantly and Yuri cupped
the back of his head, humming as he massaged small circles with his fingertips.
Turns out, he wasn’t going to last long either. He ran the fingers of his other
hand along the sweat slicked skin of Otabek’s back, down his spine to his ass.
He palmed the muscle clenching in time with his thrusts, and nearly howled when
Otabek sunk his teeth into his neck. His hips spasmed before he slowed down to
a stop, the hand on Yuri’s cock going slack as he rode out his release. Yuri
waited, smoothing his hands up his back and threading his fingers in the longer
bits of his hair. He felt Otabek’s breath come out in harsh pants, as he slowly
came down, kissing the side of Yuri’s neck where he’d bitten him. Though, when
Otabek pulled his softening cock from his ass, he felt as if something was
missing, and held onto him, silently pleading for more.
Finding his mouth, Otabek sealed their lips together as the hand on Yuri’s cock
picked up where it had left off. Yuri forgot they were kissing, pulling back to
let out a long breath through his teeth. Otabek moved down his chest, kissing
and sucking until he got to a nipple and Yuri’s spine arched so hard he thought
he had pulled a muscle. Fuck, when had he gotten so sensitive there? Both hands
were at Otabek’s head, pressing him closer, asking for more. He felt him smile
as he swirled his tongue around the pebbled bud. Fuck, he could come from this
alone, but it wasn’t like the hand on his cock wasn’t doing any wonders. He
felt his thumb press against his head and that was all it took. Teeth to one of
his nipples and a few more pumps, and he was coming so hard he forgot how to
breathe.
After a lazy cleanup they both lay in a mass of tangled limbs, Yuri’s head
pillowed on Otabek’s chest as he combed his fingers through long, blond hair.
Yuri felt boneless and the rhythm of his own breathing was lulling him to
sleep. His palm was flat against the fuzz on Otabek’s lower stomach, and he was
fighting to keep his eyes open.
“So, uh, Yura,” Otabek began, his chest rumbling against Yuri’s ear.
“Yeah?”
“Why did you, uh, leave all of a sudden? I thought,” he swallowed and his arm
was suddenly heavy around Yuri’s shoulders. “When I left that morning
everything was, uh, fine.”
Yuri bit his lip, feeling cold even though Otabek was basically a human-shaped
heater. “I needed to do something in Saint Petersburg.”
“That’s not the whole story.”
Fuck. “Uh, Grandpa and I had a fight.”
Otabek tensed. “About?”
He bit his lip. “Nothing important.”
He actually felt the annoyance flood into each cell of Otabek’s body. “So you
ran away, scaring everyone half to death over ‘nothing important’?”
Yuri made to roll away, but Otabek held him in  place with an arm around his
waist. “Yura. Please, stop running away.”
Yuri couldn’t force any words to his mouth. All he he could do was lie on his
side, staring wide eyed as Otabek glared at his ceiling. He swallowed, feeling
like his throat was going to break apart.
“Beka, I...” He couldn’t.
Otabek waited almost a minute before he sighed softly and pulled Yuri back to
his chest. “Okay. When you’re ready then, I guess.”
Yuri knew he wouldn’t push any harder, but even Otabek’s patience had a limit.
He had seen him reach it exactly twice. Once was with his parents, talking over
him at dinner and ignoring everything he had to say about going to the Gnessin
State Musical College after high school. The other was when Yuri had been
arguing with one of his exes and he’d grabbed him a bit too roughly. He lay the
side of his head against his chest, and throwing his arm back over his stomach.
Otabek hooked his arm back around Yuri’s waist, lightly pressing his fingers
against his ribs.
Yuri’s skin was itching, and he wanted to pull away and snuggle closer at the
same time. He really didn’t deserve Otabek’s kindness. God, he was going to
hate him when he told him that he was pregnant. Well, maybe not hate him. He
tilted his head upwards, looking at the underside of Otabek’s jaw. He’d be mad.
Mad that he hadn’t told him right away, and at himself for not using protection
even though they both knew Yuri had been on birth control. He’d stress himself
out trying to come up with a solution, blaming himself for being irresponsible,
and probably work himself into another panic attack thinking about what his
parents would say. Yuri clenched his jaw, brining his hand up to press flat
over Otabek’s heart. It was calm and steady now. Yuri couldn’t bring himself to
break it. He couldn't do it now.
Pressing his lips to Otabek’s chest, giving the skin over his heart a gentle
kiss, he mumbled, “I love you.” he did, but right now he felt that he didn’t
have the right to.
Otabek kissed the top of his head, rubbing his hand up and down Yuri’s side. “I
love you too.”
Yuri sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. Everything was so fuck up right now,
but every time Otabek said that he could pretend that it all was okay. He
snuggled closer, throwing one of his legs over Otabek’s and twining their
calves together. Otabek’s muscles shifted as he stretched over to turn off the
bedside lamp, and pull the covers up to Yuri’s shoulders. Yuri hummed softly in
thanks and Otabek kissed the top of his head again. Yeah, just this was
perfect.
Falling in and out of sleep, it took Yuri a moment to realise that Otabek was
still petting him. He had been stroking his side, but his hand had traveled to
Yuri’s stomach and he was petting him in long slow strokes. Yuri would honestly
let Otabek touch him anywhere, but his hand moved even before his brain had
fully woken up. He caught Otabek’s wrist, lifting it from his body. Logically
he knew that Otabek wouldn’t have been able to tell he was bloated, much less
that there was a baby inside of him. But still, his heart started to race and
sweat prickled his armpits and the back of his neck.
Otabek hummed softly, half asleep himself. He tugged his wrist from Yuri’s
grip, resting it on his stomach again, but Yurip ripped it away a split second
later. Slowly, they both sat up, Yuri fighting and failing to keep his
breathing calm. He could practically feel the tension rolling of Otabek in
waves. There was a short moment of silence, before Otabek exhaled roughly and
rolled out of the bed. The bathroom door was swinging shut before Yuri could
even blink.
Yuri swallowed, his throat closing up again. He looked down at his stomach,
wanting to reach inside of himself and just... he hiccuped as he started to
cry. Yeah, Otabek was reaching his limit, but Yuri wasn’t even sure if he could
tell him anything yet.
 
Yuri swallowed, his stomach rolling as he sat down at the kitchen table.
Grandpa was already seated across from him, a plate of fresh cookies between
them and two cups of steaming tea. It would have been just like any other
evening except for the solemn expression on Grandpa’s face and Yuri trying to
keep his breath even. He focused on a grease spot on the stovetop, then darted
to the pink, checkered dish rag hanging up on the oven handle.
“So,” Grandpa began with a sigh. Yuri’s eyes snapped to him and the air in the
room became just a bit thicker. “We should,” he trailed off, waving his hand.
Yuri took a sip from his cup, scalding his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
“Do you know what you want to do... about it yet?”
Yuri shook his head, picking at the string attached to his tea bag.
“Have you spoken to Beka?”
He shook his head again.
Grandpa sighed heavily. “Are you planning on involving him at all?”
Yuri’s eyes widened, and the rolling in his stomach paused turning into pure
irritation that Grandpa would even ask him that. After all Beka had done for
him; he was an honorary Plisetsky, he had spent more time at their house than
his own. And even if Yuri hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell him yet, he
couldn't imagine not getting his opinion about something this big. Even if it
would end up ruining them. “Of course I’m going to tell Beka, uh, when I find
the right time.”
“Good.” He seemed the slightest bit relieved. And Yuri ground his teeth; he
knew why he was asking.
“I’m not my mom,” he spat. “I’m  going  to tell Beka.”
“I know you’re not her-”
“So then what was that? Just because she didn’t tell you who my dad was-”
He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I always wondered where we
went wrong with her.” Yuri snapped his mouth shut; Grandpa almost never talked
about his daughter. After he had kicked her out that one day the autumn after
Yuri had turned six, Grandpa had gone through great lengths to erase her from
their lives. It was the autumn he had met Otabek; he remembered dreading going
back to school, because everyone on their block knew the story - when she had
left after a wild shouting match with Grandpa and bashed in a few windows with
a rock. But then there was a new kid on the playground, who had told Yuri that
he liked his dress, when all the other kids were pointing at the bruises on his
face and the gap where his front teeth should have been, while they whispered
loudly about what they overheard their parents saying last night.
His eyes were already stinging when he looked up at Grandpa. He knew he blamed
himself for all of his mom’s shit. “None of that was your fault.”
He sighed deeply. “I thought of you as my second chance. To make up for what
went wrong with her.” Yuri swallowed. “And I’m sorry, I should never compare
the two of you, but when I heard the news... no.” He shook his head. “Sorry,
that’s not an excuse.”
Yuri took a deep, shaky breath. “No. I get it. I fucked up big time, and it’s
not something that will just go away.” He pulled his hand away from his
stomach, when he realised where it was resting.
“No,” Grandpa agreed. “And I think you were also right when you said that maybe
some of her feelings for you came from us  forcing... ” he cleared his throat.
“Your babulya and I thought we were doing the right thing. She was dead set
against abortions; all life is precious, Yurochka, don't you forget that. But
we should have known with your mother; she wasn’t ready for any of it; she was
sixteen, and sometimes I think she was even younger mentally. She wasn’t ready
for you.” He paused to for a while, staring down at his hands on his lap. “As
much as it pained me, I couldn’t admit to myself, your babulya refused to see
it too, but even before you were born your mother had no love for you.”
Yuri felt a corner of his mouth stretch into a bitter smile. He knew that. He
more than knew that. He remembered asking one of his teachers what aborted
meant because she used to yell it at him so much. He got up, crossing the table
to wrap his arms around Grandpa’s shoulders. He rested his chin to the crown of
his head and waited for him to continue. “We hoped that it would change once
you were born, but,” he shook his head.
Yuri knew the stories. Grandpa hadn’t told him, but he had heard the neighbours
gossiping about how they would hear him crying for hours until either his
grandpa or grandma came home from work to rescue him. It made his stomach hurt
to even think about how his mother could have done that to him, how anyone
could do that to their child.
“It’s okay, Deda,” Yuri mumbled into his hair. “If I decide to keep the baby I
would never act like her. I swear it.”
Grandpa reached up to hold his hand, smoothing his thumbs over his knuckles. “I
know, Yurochka, I know.” there was so much behind those words, that Yuri had to
bite his lip to keep it from trembling. “But I used to wonder how different it
would have been if we had let her do what she wanted.” Yuri blinked, the
stigning behind his eyes getting worse. “Your babulya and I made many mistakes
with her, but if we had let her get that abortion, then I wouldn’t have you
right now, and I don’t think my life would have been even a tenth as good.”
Yuri’s stomach hurt, yet his chest expanded in warmth. “So, Yurochka,” he
hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him to sit on his knee like he used
to do when Yuri was a kid. “I’m not going to pressure you, or guilt you, or
force you to do anything with this baby. It’s 100 percent your decision, and I
will do my best to support you either way.” He smiled, his eyes turning glassy
and the skin around them red.
Yuri hugged him tightly, the tears finally leaking out. Grandpa hugged him
tightly, pressing the back of his head to his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Yurochka.” He stroked his hair, as his voice cracked. “I can’t
even imagine how scared you must have been, how much this is. I’m so sorry for
adding to it.” Yuri shook his head, but he knew that Grandpa was like him and
when everything came out, it all came out. The best thing he could let him do
now was to speak. He wound his hands around his neck, and screwed his eyes
shut. Like Otabek, Grandpa’s scent always calmed him down. “I know what it’s
like to be young and foolish and in love. Your babulya and I got married far
too young, we were head over heels for each other and thought that just love
was enough to keep us living. And your mother, we loved her so much we didn’t
know how to be good parents.” He sighed, falling into silence, but continued to
stroke Yuri’s hair.
Yuri tightened his hug. “Deda-”
“I love you so much, Yurochka. And even when I get mad at you, don’t you ever
forget that.”
 
Yuri didn’t really expect Katsudon’s call later that week. He was finally
fixing his nails; he’d trimmed them a bit and filed them down to a perfect
coffin shape, and was trying to decide what colour to paint them when his phone
rang. He grumbled before pressing the answer button, wondering why Katsudon was
calling at such a weird time. He hoped nothing was wrong with this kids; he’d
already gone over to their house for dinner twice and watched Nikita and Amaya
three times. He sighed, switching his hard, ginger candy from one cheek to the
other before he answered.
“Hi, Yuri,” Katsudon’s voice was way too bright. Yuri was instantly suspicious.
“What do you want?”
“Want? I… nothing. I don’t want anything.”
“Uh huh. I’m not babysitting.”
He sighed. “I’m not calling to ask you to babysit. I, uh, have you been back to
the doctor since, um...?”
Yuri swallowed, clamping his candy between his molars. “No.”
There was a short pause. “I... it would probably be a good idea for you to book
an appointment.”
Yuri licked his lips, leaning against his headboard and pulling his knees to
his chest. “Why, I don’t need to-”
“Yes you do. Look, it’s just to make sure that nothing’s going wrong with-”
“I don’t even know if I’m keeping it or not-”
“With  you  or the baby. There are a few health risks that can go along with
pregnancy, and it’d be a good idea to catch them early - if there are any, that
is.”
Oh. Yuri blinked, tracing the loose stitching on the edge of his blanket with
his index finger. “I... don’t know.”
“Yuri, I would hate it, everyone would, if you ended up really sick.” He
already felt really sick. He wrapped his arm around his knees, as if he could
stop the churning in his stomach by holding it in place. “It’s nothing scary;
I’ll come with you if you want. But you really should do this.”
Yuri screwed his eyes shut, focusing on his breathing for a moment. The ginger
candy wasn’t helping anymore. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where to start-”
“I can help you,” he forced an awkward chuckle. “I’ve done this twice before,
right?”
“Yeah. okay, I guess.”
“Are you free next week? I can see if I can get an appointment with my
obstetrician.”
“Yeah.”  
When he hung up, Yuri felt as if the world with spinning without him. He looked
down at his stomach. Still bloated, but it felt kind of hard when he poked it.
He breathed in deeply, forcing both of his hands to the mattress.
“Look at all the trouble you've caused,” he grumbled, unsure if he was speaking
to himself or the thing in his stomach.
 
“Okay, fair warning,” Katsudon said, locking Yuri’s door before he had a chance
to open it. He tried the handle anyway. It clicked uselessly before he gave of
and slumped back into the seat. “This visit it going to be a bit long, you’re
going to be asked a lot of questions, and there’s going to be a physical exam.”
“A what?” Yuri wanted to throw himself out of the car. They were parked, but
still. Maybe the asphalt would knock him out.
Katsudon’s smile was supposed to be comforting, but Yuri felt even more sick
after looking at him. He didn't even know how he made it out of the car and
into the waiting room without vomiting his guts out.
He let Katsudon do most of the talking, sitting in the plastic chair and
staring at his hands. He didn’t want to look up. The office was covered with
charts with pregnant women, there were 3d models of various seized fetuses, and
the walls were a sickening shade of light, mint green.They’d made him change
into one of those hospital gowns and the AC was giving him goosebumps. He’d
peed into a cup, they’d swabbed the inside of his cheek and taken like five
vials of his blood, and the worst part hadn’t even come yet. The doctor was a
bubbly woman with brown and grey hair pulled into a loose bun at the nape of
her neck. Yuri didn’t know what to make of her, because she hadn’t even batted
an eye when she had learnt his age, but she had looked slightly concerned that
he hadn’t had his first appointment at eight weeks.
“Yuri,” she said, smiling. “We’re going to do the physical part of the exam
now. Do you want Yuu, uh, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov to stay?”
His eyes flickered to Katsudon, sitting to his side with a small smile on his
face and a smudge on in his glasses. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked,
reaching out to squeeze Yuri’s hand.
He couldn’t stop the tight feeling in his stomach, or the fact that he could
barely breathe. “Uh.”
“I’ll be right outside the door,” Katsudon said, getting up after patting
Yuri’s hand. “Call if you need me.”
He nodded. She made him stand on a scale, checked his ears, eyes, and throat,
and listened to his heartbeat and breathing, all while narrating what she was
doing. He could see why Katsudon had chosen her, but he still couldn’t shake
the tightness in his stomach. Especially when she asked him to remove the top
half of his gown.
“We only do this with male omegas since mammary glands grow significantly more
than females during pregnancy.” Yuri winced. Right, he was going to grow boobs.
She helped him untie the top string, and roll the gown down to his stomach.
“I’m just going to apply some pressure to feel for any abnormalities. If you
feel any discomfort, let me know.” Yuri looked down his chest. Could she really
feel anything this early, though? His chest didn’t look too different, and
maybe  he’d been a bit more sensitive there. He tried not to think too much as
she felt around, staring at the ceiling and trying to keep his breathing even.
His cheeks still went hot. He had never realised how weird doctor’s gloves
felt. Especially against his nipples.
“Okay, excellent,” she said. Yuri blinked, instinctively bringing his hands up
to cover himself. “You’ll probably start to notice significant changes at
around sixteen weeks.” She helped him tie up his gown again. “You said that
you’ve never had a pelvic exam before, am I right?” He swallowed, nodding. She
smiled, her eyes nearly closing. Yuri rubbed his palms together, trying to get
feeling into his fingers. “It’s nothing to be frightened about. The worst part
with be the pap smear, but I’ll walk you through that as well. It will be a
little awkward, I won’t lie, but we’ll be completely professional about it and
it’ll be done before you even know it.”
He doubted that. God, should he have shaved? Fuck.


Yuri didn’t think his face would ever turn back to its normal colour. He was
back in his jeans and t-shirt sitting in the plastic chair with Katsudon next
to him. She had said the pap smear would have been uncomfortable, but, fuck, he
still felt a lingering sting.
“Okay, Yuri, you’re in perfect health, although going forward, I would like you
to gain at least five pounds before your next visit.”
His head snapped up. “ Five  pounds?” Katsudon began rubbing his shoulder.
She nodded. Like hell that was going to happen. “You’re rather close to being
underweight for your height and age group. It takes a lot to grow a baby, and
this will help you both in the long term.”
Yuri ground his teeth. He was  not  going to make himself fat. “And what if I
get an abortion?”
“That is also an option of course. But in case you didn’t already know,
abortions aren’t usually performed after twenty-four weeks, except in the case
of medical emergencies. You’re at ten weeks now, so I would suggest that you
make a decision soon.”
Twenty-four weeks. He swallowed; that wasn’t a lot of time. Fuck. And Otabek...
just fuck.
“So as far as I can see, your are healthy and baby seems healthy too. You are
experiencing some toxemia, but from your description it isn’t too severe and
you are able to keep food down.” Yuri nodded, but his head was spinning.
“Yes, ginger and b-12 vitamins have been helping him a lot.” Katsudon offered.
“That’s wonderful; keep taking those in that case. It will take a few days for
your blood work to come back, so we can be sure that baby is in perfect health
and there is no risk to either of you then, but in the meantime, just take it
easy and get a lot of rest. I would suggest that you start taking a
multivitamin. And if all goes as planned you should start showing at around
twelve weeks.”
In two weeks. Well that was fucking great. He already had to suck in to button
his skinny jeans. Yuri picked at his cuticles as Katsudon placed a hand on his
shoulder. “I don’t even know if I’m keeping the baby. Who even cares.”
There was a moment of heavy silence.
“Well,” the doctor said, just as brightly. “If there is a chance that you do,
we should be prepared for it and that includes watching your health.”
Yuri ground his teeth, wanting to storm out and scream. He didn’t want any of
this. It had been a mistake; he didn’t want to be fucking pregnant, and here
these two were, talking as if he wanted to go through with it. As if he wanted
to have a baby at fucking seventeen. He clenched his palms, nails digging into
his skin. Katsudon grabbed his hand, forcing his palms to relax and rubbed his
fingertips against the indents in Yuri’s palm. He stared at his feet, his
stomach bubbling like a witch’s cauldron. His tongue tasted bitter and he just
wanted to get up, find a closet and scream until he lost his voice.
“Our receptionist has a few handy materials on foods to avoid, exercise,
travel, and sex during pregnancy, and some brochures about environmental
hazards that can affect your baby. She can also help you schedule your next
appointment.”
“Thank you,” Katsudon  offered, when Yuri refused to look up from his feet.
“Of course. And, Yuri, before you leave,” she waited for him to look at her. He
had never felt so much rage so quickly before. He started to shake. “Our office
also offers counselling. I recognise that this is a very  trying  time for you.
There are going to be so many changes happening so quickly, and your mental
health is just as important as your physical health. Do not wait, if you feel
overwhelmed or even the slightest bit apprehensive, don’t hesitate to book an
appointment.”
“We won’t.” Katsudon answered firmly.
Yuri wanted to punch him.
Grandpa found him later that day sitting in his room, with his pillow clutched
to his chest, and the curtains pulled shut. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been
sitting in that position, but his throat was so dry it hurt and he felt the
beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. It was a small miracle that he didn’t
feel that nauseated, but his bladder felt like it was about to burst and he
still didn’t want to get up. He’d been alternating between feeling like he
couldn’t breathe and falling through his mattress, to punching his pillow in
rage while holding back angry tears.
Grandpa came in and quietly sat down next to him on the bed in the darkness.
“How was your appointment?” he asked after a heavy moment.
Yuri buried his face into his pillow, wanting to curl up and die. “I’m fine,”
he muttered. “And the baby’s fine.”
He reached out, setting a hand on his shoulder before he pulled Yuri into a
tight hug. “Thank God.”
Yuri swallowed, letting himself slump into the hug. He held onto the front of
his shirt like he used to do when he was younger and Grandpa stroked his hair.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes, Yurochka?”
He bit his lip, screwing his eyes shut. “I’m scared.” His voice sounded so
small.
Grandpa’s chest rose as he inhaled. He gently cupped the back of Yuri’s head,
thumb stroking the hollow behind his ear. “What are you scared of?”
“Everything. There’s so much I have to do, can’t do. I... I don’t even know.”
“It’s going to be alright. I promise you.”
Yuri swallowed, finding a hole in the hem of his shirt and sticking his finger
through it. “They said I need to have the abortion before twenty-four weeks.
That’s fourteen weeks, like three months - and the sooner the better. I don’t
know what to do.”
He was silent for a longer while, still stroking Yuri’s ear. “That’s a very
difficult choice,” he sighed. “Have you spoken to Beka?”
He shook his head. “I think you need to start there.”
Yuri swallowed. “But, what if he hates me? What if he leaves?”
Grandpa tensed for the bearest of seconds. “He won’t. I’ve watch you two grow
up and, no. he won’t. You should know that.”
“But his parents-”
“This won’t be the first time he’s stood up to them. Our Beka is a strong boy,
and he knows right from wrong. He’d never run away from this, from you. You
should have more faith in him.”
Yuri swallowed. He should, but there was the tiniest bit of doubt that had
managed to grab hold of his heart and lungs. If Beka left him, he didn’t know
what he would do. He’d been his best friend, his only friend, for so long that
he honestly didn’t know how to even  be  without him.
“Let me show you something.” He eased Yuri off of him and slipped from the
room. He returned in a few minutes with a small photo album. Yuri shuffled
over, allowing him to sit more comfortably on the bed. “I was looking through
this the other day and,” he flipped open to a page and pointed to a photograph.
It was a picture of Otabek and Yuri in the living room. Yuri was yelling
something at the camera, brandishing a stuffed tiger over his head, while
Otabek’s expression was deadpan as always as he held onto a stuffed zebra and a
pig. They had taken off all the cushions from the couch and arranged them on
the floor. Yuri felt a small smile crack his face. “You were making a zoo for
them.” Grandpa chuckled. “Do you remember that?” Yuri shook his head, leaning
against Grandpa’s shoulder. “No?” he clicked his tongue. “You took all the
pillows from the beds too, and you used all your babulya’s doilies to decorate
each exhibit. Otabek made admission tickets and you were the head tour guide.
You really don’t remember?”
It sounded like something they would have done. He reached out to flip the
page. The next one was full of him and Otabek as well, at the pool with arm
floaties, grinning behind birthday cakes, climbing monkey bars and going down
slides. Yuri’s eyes started to prickle and his vision went blurry. He wiped his
face, hoping Grandpa wouldn’t notice, but he started to sniffle. Grandpa’s arm
came around his shoulder and he pulled him close. Yuri couldn’t stop himself
from sobbing, his shoulders shook as he pressed his face to Grandpa’s sleeve.
His chest was too tight, his stomach was upside down, and his throat felt like
it was tearing itself apart. Grandpa hugged him tightly, resting his cheek on
top of his head.
“You two will get through this together. Just like you’ve gotten through
everything else.”
Chapter End Notes
     This is going to get sweet and fluffy, I swear.

     =====================================================================


     I'll update this fic every other week so the next update will be on
     March 16th - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my
     Tumblr :)
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Yuri pulled on the loosest shirt he could find in his closet and looked at
himself in the mirror. So fucking gross. He looked like a slob and he felt like
a cow. Fitting. He scratched at a wrinkle and  tugged at the hem of his shirt
even though it fell past his mid-thigh and hung off his shoulders. He felt even
more bloated than yesterday, and still had to suck in his stomach to button his
jeans. The waistband definitely felt tight, but then he could just not eat that
much this afternoon. He sucked in his stomach turning to the side and
flattening his shirt against it. It wasn’t flat anymore, he let his stomach
relax; he looked like he had drank five bottles of water and eaten like seven
baked potatoes. Gross. If he could just hold it in for the rest of the
afternoon -
“Is Grandpa mad at me?” Otabek asked, slipping into Yuri's room; his hair was
still a bit damp from the shower, but he was immaculate in a white button-up
shirt and dark jeans. Yuri jumped, letting his hands fall from his stomach, the
quickly adjusted the collar of his shirt to bare one shoulder. His heart was
racing and he prayed that Otabek hadn’t seen him examining his stomach.
“No. Why?”
“I dunno,” Otabek shrugged, stepping over to Yuri’s closet for his shoes. “Just
felt like he was upset about something.”
Yuri bit his lip, turning around to the jewellery hook on his wall. He picked
up a long chain with a red, square pendant then considered it for a while then
also chose a shorter one with a small, blue, enamel rose. “It’s just Grandpa
being Grandpa. Which one?”
Otabek tilted his head to the side. “Maybe you should change your shirt first.
My mom will say something about it.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Yuri’s spine itched in annoyance.
“Yura… it’s hanging  off you like a sack. You know she’s going to say
something.”
He growled, turning back around to his closet. His skin was too small, and
crawling with ants. And the sudden urge to strangle Otabek and his parents rose
from the pit of his stomach. “You can’t tell me what to wear.”
“I’m not. I’m just suggesting it, because my mom will-”
“I don’t even want to go!” he yelled, stomping his foot like a child.
Otabek sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of socks.
 “Yeah, well I don’t want to go either.”
Otabek had called Yuri yesterday to tell him that his parents had invited them
over for Sunday lunch. And, with his exams done, he didn’t have a reason to say
no. So here they both were dressing up like utter fools to go have lunch with
Otabek’s family. Yuri knew that it was going to end badly.
“Then you should have fucking said no,” he growled and Otabek stared at him,
face impassive and a bit cold. Yuri glared right back, clenching his jaw.
“I’m not forcing you to come.”
“You fucking know I have to come.”
Otabek sighed. “Do you? If it’s going to be a fight, then forget it.”
“ Forget it ?” he felt like even his eyes were shaking in anger.
“I’ll go by myself.” A muscle in his jaw was popping as he ground his teeth
together.
They stared at each other for a few more minutes, neither wanting to give in,
until Yuri’s eyes began to sting. Fuck. Why was he so mad? It wasn’t Otabek’s
fault he was getting fat or, well, actually it was. He screwed his eyes shut,
rubbing his temple and let pushing the anger away with a few deep breaths.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, glaring at his feet. “I didn’t… I’m just being stupid.
I’ll go with you - just…”
Otabek sighed. “No, I know my parents are hard to take.”
Yuri snorted. “ That’s  putting it lightly.”
“I haven’t gone home since before my exams. I ran out of excuses.” Otabek
looked up at him through his eyelashes, almost like a guilty puppy. The big
dark eyes didn't help much either. Yuri bit his lip, turning away. 
“Yeah.” He tucked his hair behind his ears, looking into his closet for another
shirt loose enough to hide his stomach. “I won’t let you face them by yourself.
You won’t leave alive.”
Otabek scoffed. “Probably not. Nasiv is coming too, so they might get him to
help hide my body.”  
Yuri felt a small grin stretch his mouth. “God, is he still a suck up? Even
after moving to campus housing?” 
“He’s how my mom trained him.”
He snorted, grinning at Otabek from over his shoulder. He was still sitting on
the edge of his bed, an ankle crossed over his knee leaning back slightly with
his palms against the mattress. Yuri felt his smile fall, as something warm and
big expanded in his chest. He cleared his throat, looking away.
“So what then, how’re we gonna do this?” He pulled out another shirt, a
layered, sleeveless blouse and sighed. It would do, it wasn’t as loose, but the
layers would hide anything. He tugged off the shirt he was wearing, tossing it
to the ground before pulling the new one over his head and freeing his hair
from the collar. Otabek was staring at him, and Yuri realised with cold dread
what he had just done. Fuck.
He had to remind himself that he wasn’t really showing yet. Otabek wouldn’t be
able to tell just by looking at him. Even if he felt fat and bloated, Katsudon
had assured him that he didn’t look it. Still, his spine went cold and he
turned away, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Fuck, no, that would just
draw attention to it. He forced his hand to his sides, biting his lip hard.
“We’ll go late and leave early, I guess,” Otabek mumbled as Yuri pulled on a
dark, denim jacket.
Yuri shook out his limbs, before turning around. It was fine. Otabek didn’t
know anything.
“Better?” he asked, holding his arms out and facing him. He wanted to sound
snide, but he felt like he was trembling.
“Beautiful,” Otabek stood up, sliding his socked feet against the carpet until
he was close enough to rest his palms against Yuri’s hips. With the way he
stared at him, dark eyes sparkling, Yuri could almost believe him.
 
The Altin’s lived in a nice neighbourhood in a rather large house. Yuri wasn’t
quite sure what his father did, just that his job had required the entire
family to move from Almaty, Kazakhstan  to Moscow. He might have worked in a
bank or a hospital. Otabek’s mom, however, was one of the biggest hypocrites
Yuri had ever seen. She didn’t have a job, whether by choice or not, but talked
non-stop about the importance of a good, high-paying career to Otabek and his
siblings. He had taken pleasure in the way her face had gone pale when he had
told him how much his troupe had won at their last competition. If Otabek had
told her how successful he was with his YouTube channel, he was positive she
would get off his back about his career choice, but he hadn’t said a word to
her.
Yelena, Otabek’s younger sister, opened the door for them, and Otabek bent down
to hug her briefly. The smell of canned tomato paste hit Yuri in the face, and
he swallowed. His mouth salivating and turning bitter with the taste of bile.
Fuck.
“You’re late,” Yelena grumbled, pulling Yuri into a hug once Otabek had let go.
“Sorry,” Otabek answered. “Yuri took forever to get ready-”
“Hey!” Yuri elbowed him in the ribs.
“Don’t worry, Nasiv isn’t here yet. He might not even turn up, who knows.”
“Dad’s not here either?” Otabek glanced over his shoulder to the garage, but
the gate was shut.
Yelena shook her head. “He should have been back by now. Don’t mention it to
mom, she’s already pissed.”
“Great.” Otabek, raked his hand through his hair, pulling Yuri to his side with
the other.
Yuri winced as Yelena rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’m in my room  studying  until
lunch is ready.”
“Isn’t it summer?” Yuri scoffed as she trotted up the stairs, shiny, black hair
cascading down her back.
“Shhhh,” she giggled over her shoulder before she disappeared from sight.
She was a year younger than him, but he knew that she was already preparing for
university exams. He didn’t have anything against her, she had been nothing but
nice to him, but he always felt stupid whenever she opened her mouth.
“Beka?” Otabek’s mom called out from further inside the house. He sighed
softly, toeing off his shoes and waiting for Yuri to do the same.
“Yeah, mom. I’m here, with Yuri.”
“Finally.” She appeared in the foyer, wiping her hands on a dish cloth. “I told
you all twelve, and it’s one thirty. Don't you know how to tell time? Come
here,” she held out her hands tucking the dishcloth into her back pocket.
Otabek went to her, giving her a hug and a kiss, and Yuri offered a polite
smile.
“Hi, Yuri,” She said once Otabek had let her go. “How is everything? Your
Grandfather’s well?”
He nodded. “Grandpa’s fine. He said his back hasn’t been giving him any more
pain, so I guess that’s good.”
She nodded, ushering them into the dining room. The table was already set, with
neat white placemats and a bouquet of white roses in the centre. “It is. Very
good. And you? How is your dancing?”
He bit his lip and Otabek’s arm was instantly around his waist. He didn’t miss
the way Otabek’s mom’s eyes flickered towards it and the way her face hardened.
“I, uh. I’m on medical leave actually.” He swallowed, and fuck, just how many
cans of tomato paste did she use? He leaned against Otabek’s side, already
feeling nauseated.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I… my ankle. I strained it.”
She clicked her tongue. “Maybe you should have Nasiv take a look at it when he
gets here.” She always took the chance to bring up the fact that her first son
was pre-med. He tried not to gag, and swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
He offered a tight smile. “Maybe.” He tilted his head, turning his face ever so
slightly so that he could press his cheek to Otabek’s collar and breathed in
deeply, hoping that his smell would mask the scent of the tomato.
 
Otabek’s dad and older brother didn’t look anything like him. They were tall
and willowy with wavy hair and long, pointed noses. Yuri was glad that Otabek
had gotten his mother’s nose, with the cute upturned tip. He’d definitely
gotten the hotter brother, even if he wasn’t quite up to his parents’
standards.
“So, Beka, how did your exams go?” his father asked, slicing a large chunk of
beef. Sitting down at the table was getting harder by the second, because a pot
of beef stew - the source of all the tomato paste - was set right between him
and Nasiv, and he was trying not to breathe, but the longer he held his breath
the stronger the nausea grew. Breathing through his mouth wasn’t quite cutting
it either.
“I, uh I think they went well,” Otabek muttered around his glass of water. Yuri
grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed gently.
“You think?”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Grades aren’t posted until the end of the
month. But I feel good about them.”
“How do you even have exams?” Nasiv asked, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t music all
practical?”
“No,” Otabek sighed. “We have music theory, and things like history and that
stuff.”
“What’s your major again? I always forget.” Wow. Yuri glared at him.
“Computer music and arrangement,” he ground out, and Yuri smoothed his thumb
over his knuckles.
“Fancy,” Yelena chuckled.
“Yes, well I hope the grades turn out to be as good as you feel about them,”
His father muttered, gazed locked on Otabek.
Otabek hung his head. “Yes, Dad.”
Yuri used his free hand to move the chunks of beef from one side of the shallow
bowl to the other. He was still trying not to breathe through his nose; but
breathing through his mouth was too obvious. Yelena and her mother had
occasionally been giving him weird looks. The table fell into silence for a few
moments the only sound was the clinking of utensils.
“You’re graduating this year, right Yuri?” Otabek’s father started.
Yuri held his breath for a moment, and swallowed. “No, it would be next year,
but-”
“You’re  still  seventeen?” Nasiv chuckled.
Yuri forced a grin. “My birthday’s in March. You better not have forgotten.”
Nasiv held up his hands in mock surrender, but their father put an end to the
light mood. “Will your Grandfather be traveling to Saint Petersburg for the
ceremony then?”
“Uh,” he was sure he had explained this to him already. “I won’t be attending a
ceremony, actually. I’m being tutored; I don’t, really go to a school any
more.”
“Why not?” He set his spoon down.
“There’s no time, and if I’m serious about dancing then I can’t spend all day
sitting in a classroom.”
“Is that the norm for your…  profession ?”
“No. I chose to go with a tutor rather than waiting until I graduated to join
Lilia’s academy-”
“You and Otabek are a pair,” Otabek’s mother sighed. Yuri ground his teeth
together. “Oh and Nasiv, Yuri hurt his foot, I think you should take a look-”
“That’s okay. I’ve already gone to the foot specialist. I just need a bit of
rest then I can start physiotherapy in a few months.”
“What happened?” Nasiv asked, eyebrows shooting up his forehead.
“I strained a tendon.” He nodded at him to continue. “It’s… Peroneal
Tendonitis. I  already  have a recovery plan.” He didn’t need someone in only
in their third year of university to add to his diagnosis.
“Oh, well that sucks. Tendonitis is a pain just because it’s reoccuring and you
can’t really  cure  it.”
Yuri was sure he heard one of his molars crack. Otabek’s mother turned towards
him. “Will that harm your value as a... dancer?”
What even? “No-”
“I would hate to see your  career  cut even shorter.”
“I’ll be fine-”
“Mom, Dad, did I tell you about the university prep course my school is
offering this summer?” Yelena cut him off, drawing both her parent’s attention.
“Most of the people going to take it are a year older than me but my science
teacher said I should try to get in.”
“That would be an excellent idea. It would look good on your resume too,” their
mother said nodding.
Yuri let out a deep sigh, but then held his breath as the fucking tomatoes
assaulted him again. Yelena nudged his foot under the table. Nasiv mouthed an
apology as well. Yeah, that was why he didn’t really like Otabek’s parents.
They didn’t say it aloud, but he knew they thought he was wasting his time
dancing. Never mind that he’d been scouted by Lilia herself and had gotten a
scholarship  before  he had even graduated high school. It was Otabek’s turn to
squeeze his hand.
“You’re not hungry, Yuri?” Nasiv asked, eyeing Yuri’s almost full bowl.
Otabek’s mother’s eyes swivelled towards him and both Yelena and Otabek slapped
a hand to their foreheads causing Nasiv to instantly recognise his mistake.
“You don’t like it?” Her voice was sharp.
Yuri quickly scooped a bit of the thick goop onto his spoon and forced it into
his mouth. He couldn’t taste anything other than the tomato paste and the smell
nearly had him gagging. “No, it’s  good. I was just,” he swallowed fighting to
keep everything down. “Caught… up…” he swallowed again, fuck. “Talking.” She
watched him swallow another spoonful before turning back to Yelena. Yuri had
never tasted anything so disgusting in his life. The smell was going straight
to his head, a headache bursting to life behind his eyes, and nausea hit him
like a brick wall. His stomach was in his throat and it stung and burned. He
gagged, casing Otabek to turn to him, raising an eyebrow in question. He shook
his head, but was already pushing his chair back.
“Sorry, bathroom,” he managed to mumble, before clamping a hand over his mouth
and running to the powder room.
He heard Otabek following him, but the stunned silence from the rest of the
table was louder.
Otabek gathered his hair at the nape of his neck and rubbed his back as Yuri
gagged over the toilet. He vomited everything he had eaten since his small
breakfast, hot tears forming at the corners of his eyes. His stomach twisted
and lurched until he was sure he was going to vomit it out too. When he started
dry heaving, he realised that there were little black droplets on the toilet
seat from where his mascara had mixed with the tears.
Fuck. How the hell was he supposed to explain this?
Taking a few deep breaths and spitting out the last of the bile and saliva, he
sat back, bumping against Otabek’s calf.
“Yura?” he asked, kneeling on the fuzzy mat next to him and wrapping an arm
around his shoulders. “You okay?”
Yuri swallowed, ignoring the burn in his throat and mouth. “ Do I look okay ?”
he forced himself to his feet, pushing Otabek away. “Fuck, I… Shit.”
Otabek got up as well, flushing the toilet and maneuvering around him in the
small bathroom to fill the glass next to the sink with water. “I’ll, uh, tell
my parents we’re going home. You clean up.”
He left the door open and Yuri could hear his mother’s questioning, her voice
almost shrill in his ears.
“Did he vomit, Otabek? What’s wrong with him?”
He screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip. Fuck.
“He hasn’t been feeling well lately, Mom-”
“Not feeling well? He was fine one minute then the next-”
“He went to the doctor-”
“The  doctor ? How long has he been  sick  for?”
“Uh, a few weeks.”
God, Otabek, shut up. He was making it worse.
“A few  weeks ?” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Otabek, bring him home right
now.”
Shit. She knew. She fucking knew.
“I was going to.”
There was a moment of silence where Yuri felt like he was going to vomit again,
and leaned against the corner of the sink holding his stomach. He took a
mouthful from the glass of water swishing it around in his mouth before
spitting it out into the sink.
“Wait, let me pack up some food for you. Do you have enough money for
groceries?”
He shut the door, feeling as if his lungs were going to collapse, and sat on
the closed toilet lid. The voices were drowned out, but he wouldn't have been
able to hear them over his pulse thundering in his ears. He held the sides of
his head, leaning over and ignoring the residual nausea. He shouldn't have come
here today.
There was a knock on the door and Otabek called out softly, “Babe? You ready to
go?”
Yuri sprang to his feet, slipping through the door and tucking himself under
Otabek’s outstretched arm. He pulled his shoulders up to his ears, as Otabek
pressed a quick kiss to his temple. As they left through the front door Yuri
saw Otabek’s mother glaring at him, her eyes narrowed to slits.
She fucking knew.
 
“Yura! Yura, wait!” Otabek called after him, but Yuri didn’t slow down.
His lungs were on fire, his ankle felt like it was broken, but he still
sprinted down the street to the train station. His heart was in his throat and
he didn’t know what he was even supposed to do. Otabek had asked how his
stomach was feeling and he had just panicked and took off. He was still faster
than Otabek, and fitter too; he was struggling to keep up.
“Yura!”
Yuri slowed down slightly, his throat closing up and eyes beginning to sting.
He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t turn around and face Otabek either. Fuck, he
should have just stayed home.
He scrubbed at his face, weaving between people as they exited the station, and
nearly fell down the staircase leading to the platform. He just managing to
grab the handrail to keep upright and jumped down the stairs two at a time. He
lost a few seconds, swiping his card, but rushing to the right platform was a
blur. A train pulled up with an ear splitting screech and rumble, just as he
stumbled through the sparse crowd. He leapt through the doors, nearly running
over a middle aged man. He sunk onto one of the slippery plastic seats, gasping
for air; his ankle was throbbing, sending fire up his leg and his toes were
tingling, growing numb. He shouldn’t have been running in these boots; he
shouldn’t have been running at all. The back of his head bumped against the
smudged window and just as the doors closed, he saw Otabek skid onto the
platform, looking around wildly for him.
Their eyes met through the window, and Yuri felt like vomiting again. Otabek’s
jaw was slack, face red, and hair a mess. Yuri could see his chest heaving
despite the distance. He stopped short, hands falling to his sides, and watched
the train leave, looking like the textbook definition of giving up. Yuri didn’t
even realise he was crying until a tear tickled his chin.
Yuri stayed on the train until it reached the last stop, curled up in a ball,
watching as people got on and off, giving him odd looks and keeping their
distance. He knew he looked a mess, probably like an insane person with black
tear tracks and messy hair. It took almost five stops for his thoughts to calm
down, for the adrenaline to ease from his system and leave utter exhaustion and
tight muscles. He shouldn’t have run away; he tugged at the edge of his jacket
and leaned over, banging  his forehead against his knee. He hadn’t been
thinking; he’d panicked and the only thing that made sense was getting as far
away from Otabek as possible. Hiding. He could have kicked himself; he always
did this, like he was some fucking spooked animal. Fuck, if he was Otabek he
would have given up too. He wouldn’t even have made friends with himself in the
first place.
Fuck, he was such an idiot. His leg slipped from the seat, banging against the
ground with a stomp loud enough the woman next to him jumped. He was supposed
to be  talking  to Otabek and this was a fucking leap in the wrong direction.
He didn’t want him to find out. He didn’t know how to tell him. He wanted to
tell him, and he needed him to help figure this out. He grumbled loudly. What
the hell did he even want? He didn’t fucking know. Like, he had to tell Otabek
and risk losing him as a boyfriend or even a friend. He didn’t want that. He
had no fucking clue, and running away had seemed like the best option.
Sighing again, every single muscle in his back began to hurt, feeling like the
actual world was on his shoulders. He let his other foot fall to the floor and
slid down in the hard plastic seat, until his Butt was pressed against the
edge. The waistband of his jeans dug into his stomach and he sat back up,
rubbing it. this wasn't going to go away, no matter how far he ran. It was just
going to grow inside of him until he made a choice. Okay, he had to tell
Otabek; there was no option. He wasn’t going to - he couldn’t do this by
himself. He couldn’t make such a huge decision all on his own, because if he
chose wrong then - panic rose in his chest so quickly that it made him gasp for
breath.
His father hadn’t been involved at all, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he
would have hated him too. He would have liked to think he wouldn’t have, that
he would have hugged him, or taught him how to catch, or ride a bike or shit
like that. He scoffed bitterly; he didn’t even know his name, or if he knew
that he had a son. Yeah, well he wasn’t going to let that happen again. He
didn’t have much time until most abortion clinics would turn him away, and ten
weeks had been more than enough fucking time to keep a secret. Besides,
Otabek’s mother knew, and it wouldn’t be long before she confronted them about
it, if she hadn’t already called.
What he really needed to do was to stop fucking running. He pinched the bridge
of his nose, before getting up and holding onto one of the centre poles, to
wait for the train to pull up to its next stop.
 
Yuri hadn’t seen Otabek look this pissed in a long time. After he had opened
the door for him, he sat down on the couch, hunching over his knees and
steepling his fingers under his nose. He was staring at the blank television;
his blurry reflection was absolutely menacing. Yuri could feel the tension
rolling off of him; the air in the room was hard to breathe. The back of his
neck prickled and he was already starting to sweat. 
Clearing his throat and standing awkwardly to the side of the couch, Yuri
crossed his arms across his chest, to hide their shaking. “Beka?”
Otabek didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge that he heard him. Yeah, he was
pissed. God, this was such a fucking bad idea.  Maybe he should just disappear,
run away to Lavrentiya or Alaska, and forget about him and everyone else. He
swallowed as his stomach began to roll and the room blurred around him. Or, he
should just go ahead with the abortion, and save Otabek all the trouble. That
would be easier than have him hating him. But no, then he would have made one
of the same choices his mother had. He was not going to do that. Otabek needed
to know, even if it was the bare minimum he needed to be involved in this. 
He swallowed again. “Bek-”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Otabek spat, his voice low, deep, and
dangerous.
Yuri shivered. He breathed deeply, stealing his nerves, but feeling the like
floor was jelly. “I… I don’t want you to say anything. This one’s… this one’s
on me.”
Otabek’s head slowly swivelled towards him.
Yuri took another deep breath, his stomach clenching so hard he thought he was
going to be sick. He had to do this, though. There was no other way, especially
not after what had happened today. He deserved this; he deserved to know. And,
Yuri really, really needed his help. “I… w-we need to talk.”
“I know.”
He cleared his throat. “Can… can I sit?” Otabek raised an eyebrow, but didn’t
do or say anything else. Yuri sat down as far away from him as he could,
pressing his side into the arm rest. “Beka, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he hissed. “For running away  again ?” He exhaled heavily, his
entire body moving with it. “I want to help you, but… I don’t know. Why is it
so hard for you to trust me? To let me in? I don’t know what I did to make you
not want to  fucking  tell me anything.”
Yuri swallowed; Otabek never sweared. It sounded like poison on his tongue.
“It’s not you-”
“Then why?” He spun to face him, slamming a fist into the back of the couch. It
shook, causing Yuri's spine to jolt into uncomfortable straightness. “Why won’t
you let me help you? I want to help you!” Yuri flinched so hard he nearly
slipped from the couch. Otabek’s eyes widened and he instantly fell back.
“Sorry. I…” he sighed, covering his face with his hands.
Yuri wrapped his arms around his stomach. He wasn’t nauseated, but he still
wanted to vomit. “I didn’t mean to… but - It’s so hard.”
“Hard? We tell each other everything, Yuri. When did that ever change?”
Yuri bit his lip, his eyes suddenly stung fiercely and his nose clogged up. “I…
‘cause I don’t want you to leave me.”  Fuck, his heart was racing now, beating
so hard and fast that he thought he was going to pass out.
Otabek blinked and he could almost see the thoughts spinning in his head. Yuri
sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve.
“ Why would I leave you ?”
His throat was so tight it stung too. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He took a
deep breath, ashamed at how loud and shaky it was. His nails were probably
digging crescent shaped gouges into his sides. He screwed his eyes shut.
“Because I’m pregnant!” He hadn’t meant it to come out as a scream.
The walls rattled with how loud his voice was, or he could have just imagined
it. Everything was shaking now, including the silence that rang in his ears
like a steaming kettle. He collapsed, nearly folding himself in half, burying
his face into his own lap. He waited, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and
waited for Otabek to get up, for a door to slam, or a fist across his cheek -
he had no idea where that one came from. But there was nothing. And the nothing
lasted long enough for him to start gagging and for cold to seep right to his
core, sinking into his stomach. 
“Beka?” he asked softly, slowly sitting up. “Beka, say something.” Why wasn’t
he doing anything? He was still in the same position, like he hadn’t even heard
what he said. “Beka-”
He exhaled loudly then, raking his hand through his hair and going grey. He
screwed his eyes shut, turning away and breathing heavily. Yuri could have
died. His vision blurred, turning grey. This was it. Otabek was going to leave
him. This was the last he'd ever see of him and -
“I was…” Otabek's voice was shaking. “I was hoping that you weren’t.”
Yuri blinked, his insides crumbling. “Y- you knew?”
“I’m not  stupid , Yuri. You were vomiting your guts up constantly, you were
always tired and grumpy, and when I touched your stomach…” He cleared his
throat. “I wasn’t going to assume anything, but…” he shook his head. “I wanted
you to say something before.”
Yuri swallowed as his shoulders began to shake and he hiccupped, breaking down
in a matter of seconds. He was such a fucking idiot.
Otabek moved this time. The leather of the couch squeaked under his jeans. He
wrapped an arm around Yuri’s shoulders, pulling him tight against his chest and
stroking his hair. “God, Yura, I would never leave you. Not like this, never
like this.” His voice shook again, and when Yuri managed to look up, his eyes
were red and glassy. He placed a firm, wet kiss to his forehead, before resting
his cheek to the top of his head. Yuri held onto the front of his shirt,
tugging and feeling his nails scratch his chest through the fabric.
 
The decorative clock hanging above the television read two. Yuri’s body was
exhausted, his limbs tingling while they felt like lead. His entire face felt
raw, and his eyes were so puffy that he could barely open them. He and Otabek
sat on opposite ends of the couch with mugs of steaming tea in their hands. The
hot ceramic was burning Yuri’s palms, but he refused to put the mug down.
Otabek had his in the space between his crossed legs, holding the rim and
making the tea bag dance in the water by playing with the string.
“How,” he cleared his throat. “How far along are you?”
Yuri swallowed. “Ten weeks.”
He heard the sharp intake of breath. He knew he should have told him sooner,
and he was probably even more pissed that he hadn’t, but he didn’t say
anything. Apart from the hiss of air, there was no reaction.
“You’ve already gone to the doctor about it?”
“Twice.” He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. “There are no complications so
far, I… we’re both healthy. But… but, I don’t know.” He ducked his head,
shoulders coming up to meet his ears.
“Okay, so what are we going to do?”
He appreciated Otabek’s bluntness, he really did, but, “I don’t know.”
“Okay. We’ll figure it out.”
Yuri opened his eyes, looking up at him. He looked to fucking tired, but he
smiled so softly that Yuri felt like crying again. At the same time he was just
so relieved. And so relieved that all he could really feel was a warm soft of
exhaustion. Otabek was still here. Grandpa had been right. And even though
everything was still turning into shit, at least he still had his best friend. 
“Okay.” His voice was soft and hitched at the end.
“And Yura?” Otabek paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “I
still love you.”
Yuri started crying again, the tears were almost instantaneous, but this time
they came from a warm, fuzzy place in his chest.
Chapter End Notes
     It was a long time coming, but now the story is going to take a bit
     of a shift. I promised fluff, but still be on the lookout for a bit
     of angst and drama :D

     =====================================================================


     I'll update this fic every other week so the next update will be on
     March 30th - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my
     Tumblr :)
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     Chapter Warnings:
     - Mentions of child abuse
     - In-depth discussion about abortion: I’m not sugar coating, or
     glossing over anything in this story. Please proceed with caution.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Yuri honestly felt like Katsudon had slapped him in the face. He was still a
bit stunned, eyes glued to the staircase where he’d stormed off, footsteps
shaking the wood. Viktor had followed shortly after, looking both peeved and
concerned. Yuri swallowed, feeling his chest tighten and his stomach grow cold.
Katsudon had never lost it like that before, it had been terrifying. Amaya
probably would have started to cry if she had been in the room, actually Nikita
too, for that matter. Yuri felt like crying; he had forgotten just how sharp
Katsudon’s tongue could be. He glanced over to Otabek; he looked just as
stricken, his shoulders slumped and a deep frown across his brow.
He cleared his throat. “He’s, right, though,” he sighed heavily, running a hand
through his hair.
He was right. He was always right, a fountain of fucking wisdom. Yuri knew that
time was running out, that he had to make a decision soon. He knew that it
wasn’t just going to go away if he didn't look, but it was honestly just so
fucking hard. Hard to even think about making the decision. Katsudon had said
that he wouldn’t pressure him towards any decision, but apparently his in-
decision was a problem too.
“Yura?” Otabek started softly, biting his lip. “We…” he didn’t know how to end
the sentence, and ended in a huff.
“Yeah.” He swallowed again, suddenly feeling dizzy to the point of falling over
even though he was sitting down. He flopped against the backrest, hopping that
Otabek wouldn’t notice.
He and Katsudon had gone back to the doctor’s office that morning; Yuri’s blood
work had come back from the lab. He hadn’t been worried but as the doctor had
gone through the list of tests, and things they had checked for, he began to
think that he should have been. They hadn’t picked up any serious problems. But
he was nearing twelve weeks now, and the end of his first trimester - or
whatever the fuck that was, and things were about to change even more. He
didn’t know how much more fucking change he could take, to be honest.
He was still nauseated all the fucking time, he was unreasonably tired all the
fucking time, and his jeans were too fucking tight.
So, he hadn’t meant to snap at the doctor, and honestly he hadn’t sounded that
rude in his head. And how was he supposed to know that she was some sort of
fucking prude that got offended by cursing?
Katsudon had all but yelled at him on the drive back home then let it loose as
soon as both he and Otabek had sat down in the living room.
“I know we’re asking you to make a very difficult decision,” he had yelled once
Viktor had taken this children upstairs. “But you need to grow up, Yuri!”
Yuri had clenched his jaw as his eyes watered and stung.
“You may not want this baby, but you cannot be going around like it doesn’t
exist!”
Otabek had jumped in. “What do you mean?”
Katsudon ignored him. “You need to watch your health-”
“Oh, well I’m sorry I can’t gain any weight if I’m fucking puking my guts out
daily!” Yuri leapt from the couch, balling his hands into fists. “You even said
your morning sickness wasn’t this bad, so what the fuck do you expect?”
Katsudon growled throwing his arms up. “You could at least try! There was no
reason for your blood sugar and protein levels to be so low-”
“Why should I even bother if I might not even keep it?” He saw Otabek flinch
out of the corner of his eye.
“Because you might! Why don’t you get it, Yuri?” He stomped his foot so hard
that the juice in Otabek’s glass on the coffee table rippled. “You might keep
this baby and that’s the important part!”
He clenched his jaw, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He felt Otabek’s
hand against his back. “Why? Why should I care so much about something I didn’t
even ask for?” Otabek’s hand fell away, leaving a spot colder than the
surrounding air.
Katsudon’s face had been steadily getting redder, but started to go pale. He
pinched the bridge of his nose, swiping off his glasses. “Okay, I know how
scary this is. I know you’re terrified, and stressed out, and confused, but you
need to start acting differently. You’re hurting  yourself , not just the
baby.” His voice cracked and Yuri stumbled, falling back into the couch.
Hurting… the baby? Otabek grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “And if
you’re so intent on saying you don’t know, I suggest you figure it out. You and
Otabek need to sit down and talk, like adults. Because, Yuri, if  you end up
making yourself sick…” He shook his head. “I know this is asking a lot out of
the two of you, but you’re the only ones who can make this choice. Yuri, you
could lose the baby, you could end up being hospitalised. And Otabek, you can’t
just standby like none of this concerns you.” He exhaled heavily, looking
between the two of them, then suddenly spun on his heel and stomped up the
stairs.
 
“What do you want to do?” Otabek asked, wringing his hands. It was still light
out, but the heavy curtains in the guest room were enough to make it feel like
night.
“You can’t just… ask me that,” Yuri mumbled. “I don’t... I can’t make this
decision.”
Otabek swallowed. “I won’t. I’m not asking you to do it on your own. This is
both of our problem to deal with, but you’re the one who's carrying the baby;
you’re going to be affected more, you’ve already had to do so much more than
me. I’ll tell you what I think and how I feel, but you have the final say.”
Yuri’s eyes stung. “I… I don’t know what to do, Beka.” He wrapped his arms
around himself, almost hating that he could feel a hard bulge in his stomach.
The mattress sunk as Otabek shuffled closer to him, wrapping an arm tightly
around his shoulders. “Okay, let’s think about this.” He pressed a soft kiss to
Yuri’s cheek. “We can talk about both sides.”
Yuri took a deep breath slumping against his chest. Otabek curled around him,
resting the side of his cheek to the top of his head.
“My mom wanted to get an abortion.” He felt Otabek’s shoulders jump. “Deda and
my babulya wouldn't let her. They forced her to have me.”
“Yura…” he mumbled. Yuri knew that Otabek didn’t know much about his mother. He
never talked about her, and Grandpa had taken down all the pictures with her in
them and locked everything she had left behind in the attic. As far as Otabek
knew he didn’t have a mother. But he was sure that he had heard enough gossip
to know what had happened. “No one’s forcing you to do anything.”
“I know. But, I don’t feel like I should be the one to make this choice. I’m
not even legally an adult.”
“Then who should be the one to make it?”
“I don’t know.”
He hugged him tighter. “Well, I can tell you that no one else is going to fix
this for us.”
“I know.” He screwed his eyes shut. “I’m just so fucking scared. What if I
choose wrong?”
“How would that happen?”
“What if I get the abortion and the baby could have turned out to be something
really great?” He shook his head. “Like if my mom had gotten rid of me, then I
wouldn’t have been able to dance, or met you and Grandpa would have been all
alone. But she had me and she hated me, and Babulya died, and Grandpa got sick
all because she had a baby she wasn’t ready for.”
Otabek pressed his lips to his forehead, rocking them slowly back and forth.
“You’re not your mother. And every situation is different-”
“It’s not really, though.” He took a deep breath. “She used to beat me, you
know.” Otabek hissed softly, his entire body tensing before he wrapped every
bit of himself around Yuri. “For the littlest things, or if she was angry or
drunk - just because she got pregnant at sixteen with a baby she didn’t want.
And I’m, I’m not entirely sure that I want this baby and I’m scared that-”
“Yuri, no.” Otabek almost sounded panicked. “You’re not like that. You’re
nothing like her.” He was trembling. “You’re strong, and kind, and you would
never hurt anything or anyone.”
“But she didn’t want me and I don’t know If I want this baby either-”
“You’re not her.” He swallowed loudly. “But if you… Then what if we get the
abortion?”
Yuri bit his lips, tasting salt. “I don’t think it’s fair. It’s not fair if I
don’t give it a chance to even… be. But, Beka, we can’t have a baby. You’re
still in school; I’m only seventeen. We wouldn’t be able to take care of it,
and your parents would kill us,  and  I can’t ask Grandpa to go through this
again.” He actually felt like he was breaking apart. Bits of him were falling
away.
“You think we can’t?” He asked slowly.
“You do?”
“We can try.”
“Yeah, I know how wrong it can go. I - I don’t want to end up hating my own
child.”
“That would never happen, Yura.”
“I already kind of hate it. I can’t dance anymore, my entire career is on hold,
everything I’ve ever worked for could just end.” He felt Otabek shaking his
head. “And you, you don’t have time for a kid. Your parents would disown you or
cut you off, and I couldn’t live with myself self if I did that to you.”
“Okay, well. I don’t need my parents, and even if they did cut me off, it
wouldn’t be your fault.”
“It would be because of me, because I’m pregnant-”
“ I’m  the one who  got you  pregnant.”
They were both silent for a few minutes before Otabek sighed softly. “This is
just as much my fault as it is yours, so let me take responsibility for some of
it.”
He felt as if he had been braking before, but now everything had just
shattered. He tried to hold it back, but even his shoulders began shaking with
the force of his sobs. Otabek stroked his hair, holding him as tight as he
possibly could.
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay.”
They ended up spending the night, both of them falling asleep in the guest room
wrapped around each other. Yuri woke up to the sound of Viktor and Yuuri
getting the kids ready for school. Viktor was trying to reason with Nikita
that, yes, he had to wear a shirt under his overalls. He sighed softly, waiting
for the morning sickness to build. Otabek was already awake it seemed, his arm
tightened around Yuri’s waist at his sigh.
“You okay?” he mumbled against Yuri’s neck.
“Yeah,” Yuri muttered back, rolling over to face him. They had fallen asleep on
top of the blankets, both still dressed in jeans. Yuri’s waistband was digging
painfully into his stomach and he reached down to undo the button.
“Should we get up?” Otabek asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Wait until Viktor is done with Nikitok. He’ll get too excited if he sees us.”
Otabek hummed softly, reaching forward to pull Yuri to his chest. Yuri breathed
in deeply, his scent calming and almost lulling him back to sleep. He rested
his arm against Otabek’s waist, nuzzling against the side of his neck. Either
Otabek fell back asleep with him, or waited for him to get up again, because
when next Yuri was blinking it was because a sunbeam hit him right in the face.
Groaning his sat up, stretching his arms over his head.
Otabek was still on his side, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. He
looked a bit ruffled, his hair was messy and fluffy, and his clothes were
creased from sleeping in them, but Yuri couldn’t hold back a small smile,
reaching down to cup his cheek, and run a finger along his jaw. He smiled,
lines forming at the corners of his mouth.
“I love you,” he mumbled, turning his face pre press his lips to Yuri’s palm.
“Like this, just waking up together.”
Yuri’s cheeks heated, as he bent down, pressing his lips to Otabek’s temple.
“You’re such a sap.”
He hooked an arm around his waist, pulling him back down and kissing him
fiercely. Yuri giggled, throwing a leg over his thigh, and cupping both his
cheeks as they kissed.
 
Lilia? Yuri tilted head head sideways as he looked at the incoming call on his
phone screen. He hadn’t really spoken to her since he had come back to Moscow.
He bit his lip, pausing the YouTube video and letting his nail file fall to his
bed.
“Uh, hi?”
“Yurochka?”
“Yes?” His stomach started to bubble, and the sandwich he had eaten earlier was
beginning to sit like a rock inside of him.
“How are you doing?”
“Uh, I’m okay.”
There was a short pause. “The reason I’m calling, have you decided when you're
coming back yet?”
Yuri drew in a sharp breath, his entire body going cold. “Uh, I...” he trailed
off, his voice leaving him.
She hummed softly, and Yuri looked down at his lap, picking at a discoloured
spot his sweatpants. “I don’t mean to rush you. But we’re doing a competition
in seven months’ time, and I need to know if you’ll be a part of it or not.”
“Oh.” it was suddenly hard to breathe. “I… would I be able to? I mean with my
ankle.”
“Treatment can be concurrent with rehearsal. We would just have to be careful
not to take it too far. Didn’t the physiotherapist say it wouldn't take too
long to build up muscle strength?”
“I guess. Seven months?”
“Yes, Yurochka.”
He swallowed again. “I…” he shook his head even though she couldn’t see him.
“I’ll be needing an answer soon. You can at least be a substitute if you don’t
make it back in time.”
“I… I don’t know when…I don’t know if I can do this one. Sorry, Lilia.”
There was another short pause. “You still do not know if you’re keeping the
baby?”
“...No.” His cheeks heated, while his fingers went cold.
“I see. How far along are you now?”
“Twelve weeks.”
“If you’re still considering an abortion, it should be done soon.”
“I… I know.” He tried to breathe, but nothing happened.
She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Well, I trust you know the consequences
of each decision. I’ll be awaiting your answer.”
“Yeah.”
“And, Yurochka, please take care of yourself.”
When he hung up he took a shaky breath through his mouth, the room was spinning
and he felt like he was going to throw up again. He flopped onto his side,
grabbing a pillow and pulling it to his chest. Of course everything in Saint
Petersburg would go on without him. Lilia had a company to run - she wouldn’t
wait on him. He tasted bile in his mouth and swallowed, biting his lip until it
hurt. Nothing would wait on him. Not even the baby; it just kept on growing and
growing and soon he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
He screwed his eyes shut, curling around his pillow. Lilia needed an answer; he
didn’t have one yet. He wanted to go back to Saint Petersburg; he wanted to go
back to dancing. And if he walked into an abortion clinic tomorrow he could
probably go back to his real life the next day. He’d be able to do the
competition, get his ankle treated, and just go back to fucking living. There
weren’t many consequences there. So, why the fuck was it so hard to make the
call? He wanted to dance, he wanted to compete, to get back to his career and
what he had spent his entire life preparing for. He couldn’t do that with a
baby. It made the most sense for him to get an abortion, right? Grandpa
wouldn’t have to deal with another one of his mistakes, Otabek wouldn’t be
disowned. And what the fuck, he couldn’t take care of a baby. And neither could
Otabek, no matter what he said. It made sense. So, why they fuck was he
shaking? Why was his stomach trembling, and his vision going grey?
“Yurochka?” There was a soft knock on his door, but Grandpa opened it before he
could answer. “Oh, you’re sleeping-”
“No, I’m up.” He sat up, but the movement was accompanied by a fresh wave of
nausea. He covered his mouth with his palm and groaned.
“Beka is here.” He paused coming further into the room. “Are you okay? Why
don’t you ask him to spend the night here instead?”
“I’m fine, Deda.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You look a little pale.”
“I am pale.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m fine.” he took a deep breath through his mouth, swallowing and hopping the
nausea would leave on it’s own. Grandpa sighed softly, sitting down on the edge
of the bed, and reaching over to squeeze Yuri’s knee. “Where’s Beka?”
“Bathroom.”
Yuri sighed, his shoulders heaving and he curled up next to Grandpa, resting
his cheek against his shoulder. “Lilia just called,” he mumbled. Grandpa raised
an eyebrow. “She wanted to know when I’m coming back.” There was a heavy
silence. “Deda? You think abortions are wrong, right?”
He hesitated, an almost pained expression crossing his face and his hand
tightened on Yuri’s knee. “It doesn't matter if it’s wrong or not-”
“That’s not the answer to my question.”
He sighed through his nose. “I miss the days when I could just pinch your nose
to distract you.” he bumped Yuri’s nose with one of his swollen knuckles. Yuri
scoffed, gently batting his hand away. “My opinion isn’t important, Yurochka. I
want this decision to be 100 percent yours.”
“ Deda… ” he huffed in annoyance, pulling away from him.
Grandpa gave in pretty quickly. “I’m not  for  it. But I will stand behind you
if that’s what you choose.”
Yuri swallowed. “I think I might… want one.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Don’t rush anything.”
“I’m not. I… well it’s just that. Things are still moving so fast in Saint
Petersburg and I can’t afford to take off time like this. And… I can’t take
care of a kid and neither can Beka.”
He hummed softly. “You won’t have to take care of a baby by yourself. No one
expects that of either of you.”
Yuri huffed. “So how will that work when I have to go back to Saint Petersburg?
Will I leave it here? For you? For  Beka ?”
“I…” he ended in a soft huff, shaking his head.
“It’s the most logical choice.”
Grandpa was silent for a few minutes before getting up and leaning over to
press a soft kiss to Yuri’s forehead. “I can tell you now, that none of this
relies solely on logic.”
“What?” He frowned.
“Take your time and really think. If this is what you want then that’s
perfectly fine. But think.”
“I am thinking,” he grumbled staring at his lap; his stomach still churning
bile around. When he looked up Grandpa was at the door brushing past Otabek as
he entered.
“Are you ready to go?” Otabek asked.
Yuri sighed, slowly getting to his feet. “Yeah.”
“Grandpa said you weren’t feeling well today are you sure-”
“I would have been fine if someone didn’t ditch me to run fucking errands.”
Otabek rolled his eyes, but held out his arms for Yuri to slip up against him.
“You would have been bored out of your mind. I spent three hours at student
services just waiting to see my advisor.” He wrapped his arms around his
shoulders, bending slightly to nuzzle the hollow behind his ear.
“Ew.”
“Exactly. At least here you have YouTube and your bed.”
“True.”
He scoffed, striaghtening to press a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s get going; I
don’t want to be out when it gets dark.”
“We’ve ridden your bike at night before.”
He squirmed slightly. “Not like this.”
Yuri huffed. Right. Like this. 
 
Yuri stared at the blank screen of his web browser. Everyone was on him not to
make any rash decisions. To think about it, to consider both sides. He was a
bit in over his head, he’d admit that he didn’t know anything about babies. He
was only eleven when Nikita was born, and when Amaya came four years later, he
was busy with trying to get Lilia’s attention. He adjusted his legs under the
sheets, crossing one ankle over the other. Well, he wasn’t  the first person to
be getting an abortion. His stomach tightened painfully as he typed the word
into the search bar. He got results for nearby abortion clinics, he didn’t need
that. He scrolled further down reading a bunch of definitions, and skipping
past the Wikipedia article. There were a few news articles, but he wasn’t
interested in reading those. He tried searching again. ‘Getting an abortion’
his fingers were actually shaking and his stomach was so sight it felt like it
was curling around a knife. He didn’t need a ‘what to expect’  or how to
prepare. God, he needed help. Wasn’t there like an instruction manual on how
the hell he was supposed to decide? Wasn’t there like a checklist to see if an
abortion was the right choice?
He groaned, closing the browser, before opening it back up again right away. He
took a deep breath, and retyped his search. Grandpa had told him to think about
it, Katsudon had told him to think about it and so did Lilia and the doctor.
And okay, it wasn’t an easy choice, but he needed some fucking help. Maybe from
someone else who had an abortion? Could he search for a blog or something?
Literally hundreds came up.
‘What I wish someone had told me...’.
He clicked on that one, feeling his heart beating in his throat. And he read
half before he had to click away, his eyes watering and his throat tight. Fuck.
Some people had it even worse than him. Shit, at least he had Grandpa and
Otabek. He rubbed at his eyes sniffing. He knew it was going to be hard, he
knew that there were so many people against it, but fuck, did they really made
you listen to the baby’s heartbeat before? Was that some kind of sick joke? He
felt like an ice cube was stuck in his throat. The next blog post wasn’t any
better, it had taken the poor girl months before she started to feel like
herself afterwards. She had dreamt of her baby almost every night since. She
cried for weeks. Someone else had said how they felt empty in both senses, how
it took awhile for everything to even register, and how alone they felt. But
everyone, somehow, for some reason, even if they knew that an abortion was the
right decision for them, was always left wondering what would have happened if
they kept their baby.
Fuck, was this really the right choice?
It felt like his hands were moving on their own. The more he read, the more
videos he watched, the further away the computer screen seemed. A few sites
explained what was going to happen, and with each word, a little more of the
room disappeared from around him, until it was just him and the computer. There
was a list of the types of abortions - fucking  types ; he was too late for a
non-surgical abortion and, fuck, he wished he had known this sooner. If he
hadn’t been so scared, if he just stopped for a moment and fucking  thought .
All the other options had a dark shadow creeping up his spine, grabbing hold of
his ribs and squeezing. Vacuum aspiration, dilation and evacuation,  labour
induction,  he wasn’t breathing any more. He couldn’t breathe, he let his hand
fall to his stomach, that tiny bump, his  baby . His baby that he  couldn’t
have. His eyes were prickling. He yanked his hand away and kept on reading. His
skin felt like it was shrinking, while his stomach bubbled and his throat went
dry. But he ignored the slight swaying of the computer screen that made the
lines jump into each other.
‘Dilation and Extraction or D and X, is performed in weeks thirteen to twenty-
one/twenty-two of pregnancy… often referred to as a partial birth abortion.
This type of abortion is illegal except when necessary to save the life of the
mother...always performed in a hospital, and can be done in rare cases, after
sixteen weeks. The doctor opens the cervix, grasps the unborn child’s foot with
an instrument and delivers the child completely, with the exception of the
head.' Yuri tasted bile at the back of his throat but he couldn't stop reading.
His breath was coming out in short gasps and he just felt so fucking sick. 'An
incision is made in the back of the child’s head, and a suction tube is
inserted. The child’s skull is fully suctioned out, allowing the head to
collapse. The child is then delivered dead.’ God. How could he feel like he was
falling when he was sitting down? He had to clamp a hand to his mouth as he
gagged. How could… the tears came hard and fast. God, just how was he even
supposed to? He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be pregnant, but he didn’t
want  this . He couldn’t walk into the abortion clinic and walk out with a dead
baby. His ears were ringing, his vision had turned in a grey tunnel, and
everything was shaking.
He felt like he was at the bottom of a pit, looking up at the sky, and reaching
for it, but falling deeper into the ground instead. He couldn’t breathe, not
through his choking sobs, not hunched over as he was holding his stomach,
trying hard not to retch.
He couldn’t do it. He curled around his stomach, holding it with both hands,
and cried until he started to dry heave. He couldn't do it. He couldn’t do that
to his baby. He couldn’t get rid of it then spend the rest of his life
wondering what it would have been like.
“Yura? Why are you crying?” Otabek scrambled into the bedroom, his glasses
falling off his nose. “What’s wrong?” he was on the bed in a matter of seconds,
taking the laptop from Yuri’s lap and pulling him against his chest. “Shhh,” he
mumbled, holding him tightly and rubbing small circles against his back. “It’s
okay. It’s okay, baby.”
Yuri shook his head, clutching the front of Otabek’s shirt. “I can’t do it,” he
coughed. “I can’t.”
“Can’t do what?”
“I can’t get an abortion. I can’t kill my baby.”
Otabek’s arms tightened around him and he made soft soothing noises. “Shhhh,
okay, okay.” He pulled Yuri onto his lap, smoothing his hair away from his
face. “You don’t have to.”
Yuri sniffled. “But I should-”
“No-”
“I should. I don’t know anything about babies. I can’t ask you to give up so
much either. I haven’t even graduated highschool, you’re still in university. I
can’t dance anymore-”
“No, shhh, that doesn’t matter-”
“Yes it does! It does!” his voice broke, and he wiped at his eyes with the back
of his hands. “It does, and it’s the smart thing to do, but I can’t do it,
Beka.”
“Okay,” he felt lips against his forehead. “Okay.”
Otabek obviously didn’t know what to say, but he held him. Held him until he
stopped shaking and his sobs turned into silent tears. He pressed his lips to
Yuri’s forehead and nose, and wiped his cheeks with his thumbs. Yuri pressed
his cheek against his chest, settling against him while he still held his
stomach. He couldn’t feel the bump with the way his back was curved, but he
smoothed his hands across it anyway. He turned his face to nuzzle against
Otabek’s collar bone. His nose was still too clogged to smell anything, but he
knew how he must have smelled of soap, mild spices, and a tinge of salt. Tiny
fresh tears sprung to his eyes.
“Beka, I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“I’m asking you to do so much-”
“He hummed. Don’t worry about me. If you don’t think you can do it then, no one
is going to force you.”
“We can’t take care of a baby.”
“We can try.”
“Trying isn’t good enough! I don’t want…” he swallowed. “I don’t want the
chance that something could go wrong.”
“I… what do you mean.”
“Cause if we try and we fail, and I end up hating you or the baby-”
“That will never happen-”
“It can! I always asked myself what I did for my mother to hate me so much. And
I didn’t do anything, I was born! But she was stressed and tired, she and
Grandpa always fought and things were so bad. I don’t want that to happen to
us, I don’t want our baby to cause us to fight.”
“Yura, you’re not your mom.”
“It can still happen! You don’t get it-”
“We won’t let it happen! Look, your mom didn’t have your dad to help her. She
didn’t have Viktor or Katsudon. And Grandpa was a different person back then,
he’s changed. He’s going to help you. He loves you so much Yura.”
Yuri bit his lip, sniffling. “I’m scared.”
“It is scary. But we’re going to make this work. If you don’t want to get an
abortion then we’ll  make it work .”
He seemed so sure of it. Yuri swallowed, wrapping his arms around Otabek’s
neck.
“We’ll make it work. I’m going to take care of the both of you. No matter what
it takes.” His voice was firm, his entire body was firm, yet comforting - big
and warm. The hands on his back were large and heavy, and the arms around him
were like steel. And even when Yuri started to cry again he didn’t shake.
 
“Yuri!” he heard Nikita before he saw him and turned around just in time for
the six-year-old to launch himself at his stomach.
“Nikita be careful!” Viktor yelled after him, going pale when he saw them
collide.
“It’s fine, Viktor,” Yuri called, stroking Nikita’s hair as he wrapped his arms
around his legs. “He wasn’t going that fast. You little  monkey ,” he grabbed
the boy under his armpits and hoisted him into the air. Nikita squealed in
glee. “You need to stop running indoors.”
He giggled, throwing his arms around Yuri’s neck. “We did reading at school
today! I did a six letter word!”
“Really?” He couldn't help but smile. “That’s so cool! Which word was it?”
“Ummm,” he paused. “I forget.”
“You forgot?”
“And we got to practice letters and I -” he cut himself off and Yuri felt him
go stiff.
He turned around to see Otabek leaning against the wall, watching them with a
small smile.
“You didn’t say hi to Uncle Beka,” Yuri scolded.
Nikita twisted in his arms, staring at Otabek with wide eyes. “Hi.”
Yuri rolled his eyes, stooping down to set him back on his feet. “Go wash up,
you’re all stinky from school. Yuck.” He pinched his nose, and fanned his face,
pretending to be disgusted. 
Nikita scrunched up his face, but giggled as he dashed off. Viktor came in a
little while later, holding Nikita's school bag in one hand and a sleeping
Amaya in the other. His hair was a bit ruffled, but he was smiling as he
watched Nikita scramble upstairs.
“Yuuri should be home soon.” he whispered. “You two can make yourself at home,
but I don't really need to tell you that.” he smiled, eyeing Otabek.
Yuri glanced to Otabek. Otabek looked away, stuffing his hands into his
pockets, and crossing his legs at the ankle. Yuri knew he was still a bit
nervous around Viktor even though he knew he was welcome here.
Yuri grabbed Otabek’s hand as Viktor slowly went upstairs.
“So, How do we say this?” Yuri mumbled pulling him up to the marble island in
the centre of the kitchen.
Otabek shrugged. “Just tell them, I guess.”
Yuri bit the inside of his cheek and ended up sighing as he cross his ankles
and slid up closer to Otabek. He was biting his lip, eyes darting around the
room. He nudged his thigh with his foot. “Hey, babe. I’m not really nervous
about this, and talking with Katsudon usually helps. I mean... ”
“I know.” there was a short pause as the both stared at their hands, leaning
against the island. “I didn’t realise you were that good with Nikita.”
Yuri blinked. “Huh?”
“I mean, I can see why he’s obsessed with you now.”
“He just has good taste.”
He huffed a short laugh, reaching out to run his fingers along Yuri’s forearm.
“I just… I mean, if we do keep the baby, I just… I know this is not a good time
for either of us, but, I’m not against,” he sighed, tugging at his ear lobe.
After Yuri had broken down crying a few nights ago they had kind of skirted
around the topic. Yuri honestly didn’t think he could go through with an
abortion, but he still wasn’t completely sure that they could take care of a
baby, especially not how they were now.
Yuri leaned against him pressing their thighs together. “It’s okay, Beka. Say
what you’re thinking.”
He swallowed, sighing again and letting his shoulders slump. “Neither of us are
ready  for this, but I had always thought of starting a family with you and if…
if we choose that, I would be more than happy to - to…” he trailed off, but
Yuri surged forward, capturing his lips.
He drew in a sharp breath, nearly tumbling backwards. “Yura,” he breathed,
between kisses. “I love you.”
Yuri brushed his hair from his forehead, his cheeks heating as he stared into
Otabek’s dark eyes. He kissed the tip of his nose, then both corners of his
mouth. Otabek’s hands came up, settling on his hips and squeezing gently.
“I still want to think about this a bit more,” he mumbled. “I just… I don’t
know.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “I
wasn’t… that’s just what I thought.”
“I know, babe.” He grazed his fingertips along his undercut, leaning in for
another soft kiss.
 
“Well, there’s always adoption,” Katsudon suggested softly. Viktor had driven
everyone over to Grandpa's, and they sat around the living room, on the
scratchy, old couches with cups of tea, and a tray of butter cookies on the
coffee table. 
Yuri felt his breath catch, as Otabek tensed beside him. It was just for a
second, but it was enough. “I don’t think…” he swallowed.
“You don’t have to say yes or no,” he went on. “That’s just an option for when
the time comes. But yeah, like Viktor said. We’ll help you as much as we can.”
Yuri took a deep breath, pressing himself tighter against Otabek’s side. “I
don’t… this isn’t your responsibility-”
“It isn’t our responsibility to take care of our godchild?” Viktor asked
tilting his head to the side.
“Godchild?” Yuri repeated.
Grandpa rubbed the bridge of his nose, but Yuri heard him chuckling softly from
Otabek’s other side.
“I was wondering when you’d ask! Of course, we’d be happy to be godparents.” He
settled back into the loveseat, throwing a hand over Katsudon’s shoulder and
grinning.
Yuri felt a bit winded; he barely even noticed when Otabek began rubbing his
side.
“So it’s safe to say that an abortion is off the table?” Katsudon asked,
leaning against Viktor’s side.
Yuri nodded, only pausing to look up at Otabek. A small smile played at the
corners of his mouth. “I… I don’t think I can go through with it.” Otabek
squeezed his hip. “I… I want to give this baby a chance. Like I got a chance,
so I should, like, pass it on, right?” Grandpa sniffled softly. “I mean, I’m
still kinda scared-”
“That’s perfectly normal,” Katsudon assured him.
“And I’ll have to call Lilia and tell her that I’ll can’t come back.” He tugged
at a lock of his hair. “I mean, I guess I could focus on finishing high school,
then maybe I can find a job or something and-”
“Hold up,” Katsudon stopped him, frowning. “You still want to dance, right?”
He swallowed, knowing that Otabek could feel him trembling. “Yeah.”
“Then you’ll start back dancing as soon as you can.”
“But I can’t go back to Saint Petersburg. I have to give up my scholarship.”
He clicked his tongue. “Lilia doesn’t have the only dance company in Russia.
And with as many disciplines you’ve studied I’m sure you could even get into
the Bolshoi .” Yuri scoffed.  Right . “Okay, but let’s think about that later.
I’m glad you're thinking ahead, but not everything is the worst-case scenario.”
Otabek turned to him. “You were thinking about giving up  dancing ?”
Yuri bit his lip and nodded. Otabek blinked slowly, a slightly pained
expression crossed his face before he shook it away.
 
“We never played house,” Yuri said, laying on his back, pressed against the
wall on his tiny, twin bed with Otabek curled up against his side. Viktor and
Katsudon had left to relieve the baby sitter a few hours ago, but after Yuri
had gotten up to help clear away everybody’s plates and empty tea cups and had
nearly fallen over, hit with a sudden dizzy spell, they had all decided that it
was best to end the evening. The dizziness was new; it didn’t happen often and
mostly when he was tired. It had been a long evening. Grandpa had sent him
upstairs, and even though he had really want to take a shower, he tumbled into
bed only taking off his pants and closed his eyes, waiting for the world to
stop spinning.
“Hmmm?” Otabek hummed, propping his head up on his palm. His hair was flattened
on one side of his head and he looked as tired as Yuri felt. Yeah, it had been
a long evening, a long week actually.
“House. You know, like, I’d be the mom you’d be the dad and we’d have made a
stuff toy our baby. We never did that.” He drew a lazy, line along Otabek’s
bicep with his index fingernail. He was getting tired of looking at the dark
purple, maybe gold would be more fun this time.
Otabek blushed slightly. “I guess not. We were too busy with zoos, and being
explorers discovering uncharted lands and saving endangered animals.”
Yuri chuckled, moving down his arm to grab his hand, and twined their fingers
together. “I was never into the whole baby doll thing anyway.”
Otabek squeezed his hand. “You liked brushing their hair, though.”
“Well, yeah,” he yawned. “It was relaxing.”
It had been. He’d also liked brushing Viktor’s hair when he used to keep it
long. It was something about feeling the way it felt smooth against his fingers
or the way the brush gilded through. He had learnt how to braid pretty early on
too, and had an arsenal of styles ready for Amaya when her hair grew long
enough.
They fell into silence and Yuri felt a strange sort of calm fall over him,
making him feel all fuzzy at the edges. And although he still felt the
slightest bit dizzy if he moved too quickly, he rolled onto his side, snuggling
against Otabek’s chest. Otabek wrapped his arm around his waist, nosing his
cheek and forehead.
“So, we’re really doing this, huh?” Yuri mumbled. “We’re having a baby.”
Otabek’s mouth stretched into a small grin, and he kissed the top of Yuri’s
head. “Yeah. We are.”
Chapter End Notes
     Tough stuff. So, this chapter was difficult for me to write, because
     of Yuri's thought process and I honestly didn't want to get too much
     into the whole pro-life/pro-choice debate and have my feelings on the
     matter seep into the fic. So, trying to figure out a way for Yuri to
     come to the decision on his own was challenging to say the least. I
     also don't want to gloss over a topic so hard and painful, but
     honestly doing this research was difficult, and I can only hope that
     I did it justice.
     Also, the chapter got way too long because what I had originally
     planned wasn't working out, and I had to split it into two parts -
     hence the new chapter count.

     =====================================================================


     I'll update this fic every other week so the next update will be on
     April 13th - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my
     Tumblr :)
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