Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13428375.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Gen
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin, Katsuki_Yuuri, Victor_Nikiforov, Lilia
      Baranovskaya, Yakov_Feltsman, Otabek_Altin's_Family_&_Friends, Mila
      Babicheva
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Omega_Yuri_Plisetsky, Alpha_Otabek_Altin,
      Asexual_Yuri_Plisetsky, Sexual_Identity_Exploration, Pre-Relationship,
      Bkg_Viktuuri
  Series:
      Part 2 of Unconfused
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-20 Updated: 2018-03-24 Chapters: 5/11 Words: 30600
****** The Title Doesn't Make Sense ******
by AshSeven
Summary
     As a newly presented omega, Yuri Plisetsky is suddenly waist deep in
     sexual advances. Which he is supposed to want, but his sexuality
     seems to have other plans for him. Basically he needs to figure some
     shit out.
     But who has the fucking time between the Olympics, growth spurts,
     crazy-stalker fans, and social media paparazzi? At least his friend,
     Otabek, seems to be cool with it all, or is he actually just high all
     the time?
***** Part I - PyeongChang *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm a bit iffy about tagging this as Otayuri since this story isn't
     going to be all about them and their relationship, but I wasn't too
     sure if to leave out the tag since it is pre-relationship and will
     have some quite obvious romantic attraction.
     So, this is the prequel to WGAP and it's going to deal with heavier
     themes. That being said, ABO dynamics are much more heavily discussed
     here as well as sexual themes. Basically Yuri is a dangerously
     reckless teenager who has to learn things for himself rather than
     take advice.

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


     Chapter Warnings:
     -Sexual content
     -Mentions of rape and unhealthy obsession
     -Stalkers
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Me:
 Someone invited me back to their room.
Yuri texted Otabek, biting his lip and bouncing his leg over the edge of the
hotel bed. Today had been  weird . He had sat with Mila and Georgi to watch the
Ladies Free Skate, because Otabek was busy looking for souvenirs for his family
- of all fucking things. Yuri had wanted to go with him, but Yakov had
literally dragged him by the ear to watch Mila compete. But now she was done
and Otabek couldn’t tell him what street he was on and there was no way he was
going to hunt for him all over Fucking Marseille. So, he had been pissed.
Pissed until a complete stranger had sat down in the seat next to him.
Me:
 Should I go?
Mila wasn’t answering any of his texts, and, well, Otabek always knew what to
do. His stomach was going to erupt. The way Mila’s eyes had sparkled
suggestively when the stranger had introduced herself to Yuri, was forever
branded into his brain. He still felt sick. He impatiently tapped his
fingernail against his phone screen. Come on Beka - okay, there he was. The
typing bubble popped up at the bottom of the chat screen.
Beka:
What?
 Who?
Yuri swallowed, glaring up at the ceiling for a moment.
Me:
Canadian skater
 Her name’s Megane
He paused taking a deep breath, trying to calm the revolutionary war in his
stomach.
Me:
 She’s an alpha.
Beka:
 Ok
There was a long pause; probably only about a few seconds, but Yuri couldn’t
tell time right then. Nervous sweat was already forming under his armpits.
Beka:
Okay, well it’s your choice first of all
 Don’t force yourself to do anything
Yuri rolled his eyes; he  would  say that.
Me:
 I’m not
Beka:
 Okay, so the question is do you WANT to?
He hissed an exhale through his teeth, squeezing the edges of his phone and
banging the back of his calves against the side of the bed.
Me:
She seems nice
 Like when we talked this afternoon she was okay
Beka:
 Not the answer to my question
Yuri tilted his head to the side; his stomach was tightening and clenching even
worse now. He had no freaking clue what he wanted, though. God, he was sixteen,
he was supposed to be adventurous, he was supposed to go out and live his
fucking life, not sit in his hotel room texting his friend who was off having
his own adventure that he would tell his fucking future children about. Fuck
it, he was doing this.
Me:
 Yeah, kinda
Beka:
 Okay, just be smart about it
Yuri glared at his phone screen for a second before sighing in slight relief;
Otabek never judged him whenever he asked dumb questions or came to him for
advice. He always had good answers too, like his brain was fucking Wikipedia.
It was amazing.
Me:
 Don’t tell anyone
Beka:
 Don’t tell anyone what?
Me:
That I’m going to hook up with Megane
Oh
 Fuck off Altin
Beka:
:)
Have fun Plisetsky.
 But promise me you wont do anything dumb. Set boundaries and make sure she
knows them
He couldn't help but feel glad that it was Otabek who had answered instead of
Mila. she would have probably yelled at him and stolen his phone because he was
still a fucking baby sometimes. He shook his head and locked his phone, tossing
it behind him on the bed and watched as it bounced against the comforter. He
hopped off the bed, stretching his arms over his head before stuffing his hands
into his pockets. Okay, he was going to  do this.
What should he do, though? Should he shower, should he do his makeup? Fuck,
should he shave? How the hell was he supposed to know? Glancing to his phone,
he decided against messaging Otabek again, even though he more than likely had
the answers to all those questions as well. Whatever, he wasn’t a baby; he
could figure this shit out by himself. Yeah. he breathed out deeply, biting on
the edge of his fingernail as his stomach cramped. Yeah, it was whatever.
He ended up taking a quick shower and blow dried his hair then brushed it back
before deciding on just leaving it down. He put on a pair of joggers that he
hadn’t worn yet, a tank top and his black, zip-up hoodie. He ended up putting
on mascara and eyeliner and filled in his eyebrows. He didn’t want to look like
he was trying too hard, but he didn’t want to look like a mess either. Okay.
Fuck he was actually doing this. He dabbed on a bit of lip gloss and took a
deep, calming breath before grabbing his keys and phone, and took one last look
at himself in the mirrored closet door. Okay, he looked okay; he fluffed his
hair, pulling a lock over his shoulder, and ground his teeth. God, he wished it
was longer. He made a face at himself and spun on his heel; no more
procrastinating. He had messaged Megane to tell her he was on his way; he
couldn’t back out now. He strode out of his room and let the door slam shut
behind him.
 
There was nothing wrong with Megane. She was nice, she was normal; she had
gotten him a  bottle of water from the vending machine down the hall. Yet, Yuri
couldn’t get his breathing right. They were on the bed, uncomfortably close as
some dumb french show played on the television. Yur’s skin was too tight, his
hands and legs were too long and too big especially with Megane sitting as
close as she was, leaning back on her hands, one was behind his back, not quite
touching him, but close enough that he could feel it anyway. No, she was nice
enough; her voice had a slight rasp and she had dimples when she smiled. And
she was pretty, with coffee coloured hair, almond-shaped, grey eyes, and thick
eyebrows. He had no reason to be so nervous. He swallowed thickly, grinding his
teeth together, and cursed his stomach.
“Do you need more water?” Magane asked, tilting her head to the side.
Yuri jumped. “No. I’m fine.”
She shuffled closer; her arm was touching his back. Why was the room so hot all
of a sudden?
“Your accent is really cute,”
“My accent? That’s a first.”
“No, really.”
“It’s  Russian . No one has ever said it was  cute .”
She chuckled. “Well, then maybe  you  make it cute.”
Oh. Yuri felt his jaw slacken and he had to try not to flinch when she brushed
a lock of hair from his face. He was surprised she hadn’t been burnt by his
skin. The sheets rustled as she turned to face him, and he probably should do
the same. His legs felt wrong, though. Way too heavy and way too long. He
tucked them under himself to hide.
Megane leaned forward, bracing herself on a hand in-between them.
“You too,” Yuri blurted, feeling steam rise from his ears. “You’re pretty, I
mean.”
She smiled, dimples popping up. “Thanks. Nothing compared to you, though.” She
reached out to cup his jaw. Yuri froze. “You’re one of the most beautiful
people I’ve ever seen - and I’m not just saying that. Everyone who’s seen you
thinks so. You’re gorgeous.”
He knew he wasn’t pretty now; he was beet red. Was she just saying that because
- and she was inching closer; Yuri’s stomach was so tight he didn’t think that
he was ever going to be able to digest food again. She was right in front of
him, inches from his face. He swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek hard,
before he leaned forward to meet her. That’s what he was supposed to do, right?
Their lips met, a bit roughly, but she shifted closer, guiding his head with
her palm.Yuri’s heart exploded, basically; it had never beat so fast in his
entire life. He screwed his eyes shut, holding his breath, because that’s what
people did, right? Megane shifted closer, the hand that was between them, was
now on his knee. Okay, okay. Okay. This was happening. It was going to happen.
God, he hoped she didn’t think he was sick form how hot his face felt. It had
to be hot to the touch; he could feel his eyebrows burning off.
He tried to copy the way she was moving her mouth and nearly flinched when she
pressed her tongue to his lips. Fuck, he also hoped he didn’t look as clueless
as he felt. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, the hand on his knee now on
his thigh. Yuri wasn’t breathing, he hadn’t been for some time and he pulled
away with a loud gasp, panting heavily through his mouth. Megane’s eyes were
glassy, her lips were wet, and her cheeks were dusted with pink. He imagined
that he looked somewhat the same, but redder. Swallowing thickly, he tucked a
lock of hair behind his ear, but it swung back into his face almost
immediately.
She smiled nervously at him; he smiled nervously back.  She grinned, her
expression softening as she leaned forward to give him a gentle peck on the
lips. He knew what to expect now, but it still didn’t do anything to keep his
muscles from locking up to the point of making him tumble flat on his back when
she put the slightest bit of her weight on him. He landed with an ‘oof’ and she
went with him, somehow using the opportunity to thrust her tongue into his
mouth. His eyes flew open, hands suddenly gripping her shoulders and
everything, but his racing heartbeat froze.
How did people do this casually? Mila and Viktor talked about hookups like they
were talking about the weather. He didn’t even want to think about the things
Chris said on a regular basis. He felt like he was going to die. There was
nervous sweat on his back and the room was sweltering. He wasn’t going to
survive. At least Otabek would know where to find his body.
Their shirts were the first things to go. Hers first; Yuri copied, his entire
face was on fire and his ears were ringing. She was in a sports bra, while he
felt completely naked. He tried to keep his breathing even and natural, but he
ended up holding his breath on every inhale, so gave up on that. He swallowed
thickly as he watched her eye his stomach and chest. She mumbled something in
french then she was on his lap, straddling his thighs as she pushed him onto
his back. He only just managed to close his eyes in time as she hovered over
him, kissing roughly. He tried his best to keep up, but he didn’t think he was
doing such a great job. She didn’t seem to mind, or was the hand on his jaw
actually to guide him to do the right thing? What was he supposed to do with
his hands? Fuck, why was this so hard? No one had ever said that it was going
to be so hard.
He flinched when her fingers dipped under the waistband of his joggers and he
felt her smile into the kiss. Okay, this was okay. He could get through this.
As long as his heart didn’t go any faster, he might not even faint. She was
easing his pants down his hips and he forgot that they were kissing. His
stomach tightened to the point of being painful and he couldn’t feel his
fingertips, unsure if they were numb with cold or from the impossible heat.
Goosebumps rose wherever her hands touched, and they were trailing up the
centre of his stomach, her nails grazing the indentations of his abs before
circling a nipple. He swallowed, spiders were running all over his skin.
Then he started to shake. He didn’t know if it was a build up of nervous energy
or if he was actually scared.
“You’re trembling,” Megane whispered, pulling away like she had been burnt.
Yuri swallowed, slowly sitting up and rubbing his hands down his arms. His
stomach was tying itself into knots, and his gut was tightening, but at least
she couldn’t see that.
“I…” he trailed off, hunching his shoulders and wrapping an arm around his
stomach.
Megane slid off his thighs. “Yuri, are you a… virgin?”
His face began to steam and he let his hair fall over his shoulder to shield
himself. “I - yeah.” Now his throat was tightening as well. Why did saying that
make him feel like he had failed at something?
She swore softly, scooting further away from him. Like he had a fucking
disease. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t know. How can  you  be a  virgin ?” He ground
his teeth, breathing through a boulder of ice in his throat. “I’m sorry, if I
had known. We don’t have to do this-”
He got to his feet, scanning the floor for his clothes. Well, this had been a
fucking mistake. His eyes were prickling fiercely. He picked up his hoodie,
tugging it on before he found his shirt and balled it up tightly.
“Are you leaving?” she asked, standing as well. He shoved his feet into his
shoes, glaring at everything. Megan bit her lip, looking grey around the eyes
as Yuri stormed to the door.
“Is it something to be ashamed of?” he spat, pausing with his hand on the
doorknob.
“What? No! No, it’s just… unexpected.”
He wanted to ask why, but his throat was getting tighter by the second. He
shook his head, slipping through the door before she could say anything else.
 
Viktor Nikiforov had won his fifth gold at the Grand Prix Final that year. It
was expected that there had been a fraction of a point difference between him
and Katsudon, but it wasn’t fucking fair to anyone else. He’d dropped from
first last year to fucking fifth, both Otabek and JJ beating him out. He
honestly couldn’t be mad at Otabek, because his programs had been amazing, but
fuck JJ. If it hadn’t been for Otabek rescuing him from the banquet to drive
around the city on the back of his rented motorbike, he would have punched more
than a few people in the face - starting with JJ and his smug wife. Otabek had
stolen a bottle of champagne and they had found a mostly empty park and had
traded sips until Yakov blew up his phone. And then - he never would have
admitted it aloud - but after they had gotten back to the hotel, not being on
the podium hadn’t seemed so bad anymore.
Yuri waved his hand, blowing lightly on his nails. He shouldn't have been
painting his nails on his bed, if he got any polish on the sheets Lilia would
kill him.
“What colour is that?” Otabek’s voice was a bit tinny from his phone speakers.
He was stretched out on his bed as well, using his laptop for the FaceTime
call, dressed in a thin, black, cotton sweater and navy sweatpants. His glasses
were crocked across his face as he lay on his side, propping his head up with
his palm.
Yuri tilted his head, picking up the nail polish bottle to read the underside.
“Sinister Burgundy.”
Otabek scoffed and the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly as he
smiled. “Did they make it especially for you?”
Yuri grinned. “I wish. It’s awesome isn’t it?” He held his nails up to the
camera.
“Yeah, it’s nice; the colour suits you.” He paused briefly, picking at
something on his hip. “So, uh do you have any plans for summer?”
“ Summer ? Summer is like six months away. Why would I have plans already?”
He exhaled harsly. “Okay, so do you want to come to Almaty for a few weeks?”
Yuri paused, screwing the  nail polish brush back onto the bottle. “Huh?”
“Almaty, this summer?”
“You want me to come to Almaty?”
“Yeah, you're my friend, aren’t you? You haven’t even seen my home or met my
family.”
Well, he had stalked Otabek’s Facebook and Instagram. He’d  seen  his friends
and family but he didn’t know anything about them. No one had invited them to
visit their home before either. He blinked slowly. “Uh…”
Otabek shrugged one shoulder. “It’s completely up to you. But all my friends
have been dying to meet you in person.”
He blinked. “They have?” Wait. “ You talk about me ?”
Otabek grinned sheepishly.  “Yeah. All the time. They’ve watched you compete
before too.”
For some reason that made Yuri’s face go warm. “Uh. I’ll ask my Grandpa, but
okay. Yeah, let’s see what Otabek Altin is like in his natural habitat.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’ll be fun.” He shrugged again. “We can do all the
touristy things if you want, but Iska, my cousin, knows everybody in the city
who has a club, so we can get into almost anywhere.”
Yuri bit his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not  too young ?”
Otabek’s mouth dropped slowly and he gaped for a moment. “Uh, you were  fifteen
that time. There was no way I was bringing you anywhere, plus I was DJ’ing so I
wouldn’t have been able to watch you.”
Yuri rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to be  watched .”
Otabek raised an eyebrow. “I know for a fact you haven’t been to very many
clubs.”
His cheeks started to heat again. Yeah, just add that onto the list of things
he’d never done before. “Fuck you.”
Otabek blinked, frowning slightly. “What?”
“It’s not like I have anyone to go with,” he grumbled, grinding his teeth
together.
Otabek sighed through his nose. “Well, we’ll change that this summer.”
Yuri tried to smile, but his chest was all tight again. Otabek was so cool and
mature, why the hell would he want to hang out with him? The youngest skater in
their bracket, and apparently an inexperienced baby.
“You okay, Plisetsky?” Otabek said and Yuri then realised that he’d been silent
for a while.
“Uh, can I talk to you about something?”
Otabek blinked, sitting up and pulling his computer onto his lap. “Yeah.”
Yuri took a deep breath, wanting to pick at his nails, but the fresh polish
stopped him. “You don’t think I’m young or immature, right?”
Otabek raised an eyebrow. “No… I mean, yeah, you’re a bit  young,  but I
honestly forget sometimes. Did someone say something to you?”
He shook his head, letting his hair fly across his face. “No. It’s just that…”
he huffed. “Remember when I said I was going to that girl’s room at the GPF?”
“Yeah. Something happened then-”
“ Nothing  happened. She freaked out when I told her I was, like, a… A virgin.”
Otabek paused for a split second as his face went blank. “You’re a virgin? How
did I not know this?”
Yuri scowled, his stomach clenching and twisting. See, that was the exact
reaction he didn’t want. “Why is it such a surprise to everyone?”
Otabek bit his bottom lip, and God, Yuri blinked, did he know how attractive he
was? “Uh, well, I guess, to put it stereotypically… you’re too pretty, I mean.
And also the way you talk and carry yourself like you're not afraid of
anything. It kind of sends the message that you're, uh, experienced.” He bit
his lip again. “That sounded less offensive in my head, sorry.”
Yuri held his breath. In the year he had known Otabek, if he had gotten
insulted every time he spat out something and only thought about it after they
probably wouldn’t have lasted. He shook his head. “Why is everything about sex,
God. how can you look at someone and decide if they’ve  done it  or not?”
Otabek shrugged again.
“I don’t get it.”
“Then don’t worry about it.”
Yuri raised an eyebrow.  How ? Ever since he presented as an omega, it had just
been weird comments all over his Instagram and Twitter. He had to announce it
to the ISU for like regulations or something, but he didn’t think that it would
have made social media news. He’d gained a few followers, but he wasn’t quite
sure if he liked it. The comments on his selfies had suddenly become very
suggestive and had him second guessing every single emoji. How could he not
worry about it? He breathed out heavily through his nose, looking down at his
hands. He’d smudged his nail polish. Fuck.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, uncaring as he bit the edge of the messed-up nail.
Otabek tilted his head to the side. “Uh, isn’t that stuff really toxic?”
Well, it didn’t taste too good.
 
Yuri scowled giving himself one last look in the mirror. His grandpa had made
him change out of his dress because it was too short. He rolled his eyes,
smoothing down the front of his black, wide-legged trousers; his dress had hit
his mid-thigh, but apparently that had been too short for Christmas lunch. He’d
like to hear him say something about this outfit, though. Fine, if the dress
had been too skimpy then he put on long pants and a blue sequined sweater. He
didn’t see why it mattered anyway; they were just going next door and it wasn’t
like the dress had been any more revealing than some of the costumes he wore in
front of  thousands  of people.
“Yurochka, it’s time to go!” his grandpa yelled up the stairwell. “We’re going
to be late!”
Growling, Yuri shoved his feet into his heels, but nearly fell flat on his face
when he struggled to slip them on. What the fuck, was he outgrowing  these
too? He nearly ripped the skin off his index finger as he forced them on, all
the while his grandpa was hollering at him to hurry up. Yeah, the fucking best
time of the year right?
Nelya Vasiliev had been their neighbour for as long as Yuri could remember. She
was some years younger than his grandpa, but her husband had passed away when
Yuri was very young. Her house, however, was always full with her children and
grandchildren.
“ Schastlivogo Rozhdestva ,” he mumbled, inhaling a lungful of old-lady perfume
and spices as he wished Neyla a ‘Merry Christmas’.
She pulled him into a tight hug then moved onto his grandpa. He sighed softly,
peering around her into the living room which was already swarming with young
children dressed in their sunday best and a few men in slacks and jackets with
glasses of  vodka. He could already hear the commotion coming from the kitchen
and rolled his eyes. They hadn’t been late at all. He glared at his grandpa,
but he was already chatting with Nelya’s brother and gave him his back when he
saw him looking his way.
“Yurochka, that’s such a pretty shirt,” Neyla said with a smile, wrapping an
arm loosely around his shoulders. “I think I have a spare apron to keep it from
getting dirty.”
“Dirty?” He realised she was guiding him over to the kitchen.
“We still have some final touches for dinner.”
“But,” he looked over his shoulder, begging his grandpa for help.
“Let’s leave the men alone, come on.”
The men . Great. He was shoved into the small kitchen and an apron was yanked
over his head. He was already regretting wearing his heels. He  grumbled all
throughout arranging  kozulya   on a serving tray and pouring out glasses of
mors  and adding  vzvar  to a giant glass jug of ice , wondering why none of
the  men  outside got off their lazy asses to help.
“Bring these out please, Yurochka,” Neyla’s eldest daughter Kilina said with a
small smile.
Yuri wanted to curse, but bit it down as he took the tray of short glasses of v
zvar  from her. He tried not to wobble too much; wearing these shoes had been a
mistake; his toes would probably be bleeding by the end of the night. His
grandpa was the first one to take a glass from the tray, smiling widely at him.
“Good to see you helping for once,” he teased.
He moved onto Gapa, Neyla’s son, rolling his eyes. God, he’d been reduced from
a world class figure skater to a waiter. Once the tray was empty he headed back
into the kitchen, giving his grandpa an icy glare.
“You’ve done a great job with him, Nikolai,” one Neyla’s sons-in-law said
patting his grandpa on the back. “He’s grown up to be so beautiful.”
His grandpa chuckled. “That’s all his grandmother’s doing. He’s her spitting
image.”
Yuri nearly tripped over his feet, wanting to turn right back around, but Neyla
saw him and pushed him off to his next task - washing dishes.
“So, Yurochka,” Kilina started, sounding suspiciously mischievous. Yuri tensed
his shoulders; he had first-hand experience with how much these women gossiped.
“I heard you presented as an omega.”
Rolled his eyes, glad his back was to them. “Yeah…”
“It wasn’t really a surprise, Kilina. We could all tell that’s what he was.”
God. Yeah, cause he was thin, small, and looked like a girl. That wasn’t sexist
or anything. He let them blab on about their presentation experiences, focusing
on the dishes and the way the water fell onto his hands, until Kilina placed a
hand to his shoulder.
“I know this can be a very confusing time, Yurochka,” she said, smiling warmly
even though it made Yuri’s skin crawl. “But if you have any questions at all,
feel free to talk to me.”
He didn’t have any questions. He’d asked Lilia and Yakov about going on
suppressants as soon as his heat was over; he was never going to go through
that again as long as he lived. He didn’t need anything else fucking up his
career.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, grabbing a dish towel from the oven handle. “Uh, when are
we going to eat? I’m starving.”
He scrambled out of the kitchen, making a bee-line to his grandpa. He was
sitting on the edge of the couch, but Yuri wiggled between him and the armrest.
“Can we eat and leave?” he grumbled softly.
He started to chuckle gruffly. “Had enough already?”
“They made me wash dishes.” He held up his wrinkled hands.
He scoffed, reaching up to ruffle his hair, but stopped when he realised that
he’d pinned it up and braided it. “I can say my back is giving trouble.”
He poked around his phone, while the the women set up the dining table, then
held up his phone for a selfie for Instagram and Snapchat. He snuggled close to
his grandpa who grumbled softly before smiling at the camera.
“Am I going to be famous now?” he asked teasingly, watching Yuri swipe through
filters.
“Never.”
 
Yuri upended the box of mail on the carpet in front of Viktor’s coffee table.
Yakov had cleared out the P.O. Box the morning they all returned to the rink;
Yuri had been surprised that he had gotten the most fan mail this time, more
than Viktor, Mila, or even Georgi. He sat down, crossing his legs under each
other, in front of his pile and pulled the top most letter towards him. It was
covered in pink hearts and he had to hide a smile as Katsudon sat down on the
couch in front of him with a steaming mug of tea.
“Good haul?” he asked in slow Russian.
Yuri nodded, ripping open the letter. The mail from the his younger fans was
always really cute, all misspelled words, drawings, and cute messages about how
much they loved to watch him. He saved those ones in a box under his bed at
Lilia’s apartment. He had re-read all of them after the Grand Prix Final that
year. The Angels routinely sent him mail as well, he liked those a little less;
he didn’t need holographic cat ears, or cheap nail polish, or the random stuff
found in the cashier queues at clothing stores.  
He tossed a fluffy, pink headband with rhinestones at Katsudon, hitting him on
the forehead, and folded the letter that came with it before setting it in the
pile he was going to take home with him.
“It’s kind of weird how fans always want to give you things,” Katsudon hummed,
stretching the hairband between his thumbs. “It’s sweet, but weird. It makes me
feel kind of guilty, you know. I don’t really want people spending that much
money on me.”
Yuri shrugged. “That hair band probably cost like five rubles.”
He scoffed softly, picking his tea up from the side table. “Yeah, but sometimes
they send things that you know weren’t cheap.”
“Someone sent me Chanel sunglasses, once,” Viktor popped in from the kitchen,
drying his hands on a dish towel. Yuri raised an eyebrow. “They were knock-
offs, of course, but it was hard to tell. I’m not sure they knew.”
“Why the fuck would someone send you  Chanel  sunglasses?” Yuri stared in
disbelief. He only got cat-eared headbands, phone straps, or candy, and
extremely random accessories. Maybe treats for Potya, if he was lucky.
“ Fake  Chanel.” He sat down next to Katsudon, throwing an arm behind him on
the backrest of the sofa. Katsudon immediately snuggled against his side. “I
think they said they reminded them of me.”
Yuri rolled his eyes, picking up the next letter.
“You got a package too?” Viktor noted, bumping a flat cardboard box with his
big toe.
“Yeah.” He was saving it for last; he had never gotten anything that big
before. But now that Viktor had noticed it, he sighed, discarding the letter
he’d been in the middle of ripping open and pulled the box towards him.
“Open it,” Viktor said excitedly, drumming his fingers against Katsudon’s
shoulder.
“I  am .” He dug his fingernails into the tapped seam between the top flaps.The
tape ripped easily enough, and he tipped it over, biting his lip to hide his
excitement.
Both Viktor and Katsudon leaned forward to see better. An avalanche of papers
and cards fell out; Yuri raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips together in
disappointment. Damnit, it wasn’t anything cool.
“Uh, Yuri,” Katsudon started uneasily, “Are those…”
He flipped over the card nearest to him and physically recoiled, his neck
jerking backwards and his upper lip curling. It was  photograph of him, printed
from some tabloid website - it was blown up and grainy - but it was still weird
that someone would send him a picture of himself.
“What the fuck?” he sighed, tossing it over to his shoulder and picking up
another one. It was another picture of him. His spine started to tingle and his
stomach gurgled. “Um…” He glanced around the pile of papers, most of them had
landed face-down, but the ones that weren’t were clearly home-printed
photographs. Viktor was on the ground next to him, his face a few shades paler
and his mouth pulled into a thin line. He picked up a few of the pictures as
well; his eyes grew stormier with each one.
“Who sent this?” His voice was sharp.
Katsudon grabbed the box before Yuri could even move. “There’s no return
address.”
Viktor drew in a sharp breath through his nose as Yuri’s fingertips went cold.
He actually didn’t know why he picked up another one of the pictures. This one
was a magazine clipping, he was standing on the podium, holding a bouquet of
flowers and his medal, but the skaters to either side of him had been scratched
out with a black marker. He felt like throwing up suddenly, and something like
cold water was dripping down his spine. Viktor grabbed the paper from him,
swearing loudly.
“Help me clean this up,” he snapped to Katsudon, who was on the floor in a
split second.
His elbow bumped into Yuri’s side, snapping him out of  his daze and he
scrambled to help pile the photographs back into the box. God, people were so
fucking weird. He crumpled a sheet of paper in his fist before noticing that
there was something written on it. And he was reading before he could stop
himself.
Dear Yuri,
 You are the most perfect omega I have ever seen in my entire life .  I have
watched you skate ever since you were a child and watched you mature into a
beautiful young man. I was hoping and dreaming, I prayed every night that you
would present as an omega. And my prayers are answered. I love you Yuri. I love
your luscious hair, your untouched pale skin, your beautiful innocent eyes, the
slim, column of your neck, your slender body and tiny waist that I want to see
expand with my pups and your breasts grow heavy with milk-
Yuri gagged, actually tasting bile. His hand flew to his mouth as the chills
down his spine turned into a full on blizzard with hale. He scanned the rest of
the letter, eyes landing on the word ‘breed’ which was gone over multiple
times, before Viktor snatched the paper from him.
“What is this…” he trailed off. The room was spinning and Yuri slumped against
the coffee table, trying to keep his breath even. Viktor swore loudly,
crumpling the paper and throwing it across the room. Suddenly he was on his
feet pacing the length of the room, balling his hands into fists. Katsudon sat
next to him, setting a hand against his shoulder and squeezing.
“What the fuck is wrong with people?” Viktor spat. Yuri swallowed looking up at
him. God, he felt so shaky and cold. “Who would send something like that? Yuri,
call the police-”
“The  police ?”
Yuri’s heart thudded slowly. God, was it  that  serious?
“We need to know who sent this and make sure they  never  do it again.”
Katsudon swallowed thickly. “Okay-”
“And Yakov. We  can’t   let any more packages like this come through-”
Yuri tilted his head to the side. “So what? You’re going to start opening my
mail?”
Viktor looked down at him dangerously raising an eyebrow. “ Yes . This isn’t
okay, Yurochka; we need to find out whoever this is and stop them before it
becomes dangerous.” He whipped out his cell phone from his pocket and furiously
tapped at the screen. “Yakov,” he said, bringing it to his ear. “You need to
come over right now.”
Yuri rubbed his temples, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t queasy.
“Are you okay?” Katsudon asked softly, squeezing his shoulder.
“What do you think? I just got a box of pictures of my own face and letter
saying that some fucked up asshole wants to fucking  breed  me.”
He bit his lip, and took a shaky breath before pushing his glasses up his nose.
“We’re going to sort this out.”
Yuri nodded, watching Katsudon’s hand as he stroked his shoulder. Suddenly he
felt so small, so in over his head, that this word was just so fucking full of
things he didn't know about, didn’t know how to do, or didn’t even understand.
How could some person he didn’t even know, had never even seen before in his
life, just sit down there and write all of that about him? How could they call
him perfect and beautiful in one line then say how much the wanted to fuck him
and breed him in the next? His stomach clenched at the thought alone and he
tasted bile at the back of his throat.
“Can you get me some water?” he asked Katsudon, not trusting his legs to
support him if he got up.
Katsudon jumped to his feet, scampering to the kitchen. Yuri pulled his knees
to his chest and rested his forehead against them. They had prayed for him to
be an omega so they could fucking breed him. He wrapped shaky arms around his
calves. An omega. Ever since he presented, people had been treating him so
differently, like suddenly he was supposed to be a different person or they
were noticing him because of something different. It was weird and it was
creepy. Actually, would Megane have even asked him to come to his room if she
didn’t know his secondary gender? Would Nelya’s family still have made all
those comments about him growing up to be so pretty? His stomach clenched
painfully and Viktor’s sharp voice was now a low mumble in the background. He
took a breath, angry when it sounded like he was crying.
“Yuri?” Katsudon’s voice was gentle and uncertain as he rubbed slow circles
against his back. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Viktor and Yakov and all of us
would never let you get hurt.”
He nodded, peeking up at him from the hair covering his face. He offered him a
small smile, sitting down next to him again and giving him a one-armed hug.
Yuri sighed shortly, trying to force his shoulders to relax.
“Yakov will be here in ten minutes.” Viktor said, stooping down in front of
them. “He agreed that we should call the police, but wait until he gets here.
Try not to touch anything anymore than you already have, okay?” Katsudon
nodded, squeezing Yuri’s shoulder’s again. Viktor’s smile was small and tight
as he reached out to ruffle Yuri’s hair. “We’ll keep you safe, Yurochka, don’t
worry.”
“I hate this,” Yuri mumbled, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He still
felt cold. “I hate being an omega.”
Chapter End Notes
     Yup, it's going to get heavy in some places. As ironic and counter
     intuitive as it seems a study on an asexual character resulted in a
     very sexual fic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but I feel that it's something important to
     be discussed as asexuality can be very complex.
     Yuri's Christmas_outfit reference.
     Also here's a short deleted_scene

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


     This fic will be updated every other week so the next update will be
     on February 10th - 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
The flight to PyeongChang was at seven am. Yuri wanted to die, especially since
he was seated next to Viktor, and the new Team Russia track suits were
uncomfortable as fuck. The shitty designer had decided to go with slippery,
waterproof material rather something warm. It wasn't even lined, so he had to
wear a sweater and a hoodie underneath. So, he'd asked for a blanket as soon as
he sat at his seat, and pulled on his headphones, ignoring Viktor straight
away. Viktor usually behaved himself on long flights, but Katsudon had gone to
Japan a few weeks ago to train with the national team for a while, and he
couldn’t wait to see him. Viktor had an album with over 300 pictures of
Katsudon on his phone; Yuri hated that he now knew that.
Yakov had probably broken a record or something when all of his students had
qualified for the Olympic team. Russia was allowed three entries for men’s that
year, two for women’s  and since he didn’t coach pairs or ice dance, his work
was done. Even Lilia had looked impressed when she had heard the news and had
taken Yakov out for a celebratory dinner. But working on Olympic routines meant
that the whole team putting in insane hours at the rink. Plus, the Olympic team
manager, Abram Krasnoperov, was a man who could shout louder than Yakov and was
absolutely merciless - lengthening practices to almost double the time. Even
Viktor had called him a demon, after he’d sent back onto the ice for twenty
more minutes of drills. Although, it might have been worth it, when during
their final practice before they left for South Korea, both Lilia and Yakov
hadn’t offered up any points to improve on.
 
“What time is your fight tomorrow?” Otabek asked, directing a slight frown
towards Yuri.
He stuck out his tongue at his laptop. “Seven.”
“Then shouldn’t you be going to bed?”
“Shouldn’t  you ?” He was already in bed, with only his table lamp on because
Lilia was already sleeping. Potya had been dropped off at her assistant’s
apartment earlier that evening, and Yuri already missed her warmth from his
bed. He tugged at the collar of his old t-shirt wondering just how warm
Otabek’s room was since he’d hardly seemed to wear anything more than a tank
top to sleep.
“My flight’s not until noon.”
“Fuck you.”
He grinned. “How was practice today by the way? Sorry, I didn’t answer your
texts, I was at the gym.”
Yuri rolled his eyes. “You go there a lot.” Otabek shrugged. “We didn’t have
practice today. Abram had a stroke and told us all to rest today. Even the
hockey team. We had to go in for like a meeting, but we didn’t practice. You
would have known if you’d answered me.”
Otabek raised an eyebrow. “Okay, well for that I’m not going to show you my
costume-”
“It’s done!” Yuri sat up straight, crossing his legs underneath each other and
pushing his laptop to the mattress.
Otabek sat up too, pushing his hair back from his forehead and leaving it in a
disheveled mess. “Finished this morning; I practiced in it today.”
“I you don’t send me pictures, I’m never talking to you again.”
Otabek scoffed. “That’s unlikely.”
Yuri frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Getting cocky aren’t we, Altin?”
He grinned widely. Yuri honestly loved when he did that cause the skin around
his eyes got all wrinkly. “Check your messages.”
Yuri ripped his phone from the charging cord and pulled up his iMessage chat
with Otabek. He had sent two photos and a video. He had some issues with the
design and fit of his free skate costume, but the end product was pretty cool.
Green really was his colour. The shirt was  dark green and gauzy with a wide,
cascading collar and sheer sleeves. And there was a line of green glitter down
each side of his black pants. He tapped play on the video and it was a shot of
Otabek doing a fucking quadruple toe-loop like it was no big deal. Yuri swore.
“Stepping things up a notch?”
Otabek gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s the Olympics.”
Yuri’s stomach fluttered. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I still can’t believe it.”
“It’ll be an amazing experience no matter what happens.”
Yuri bit his lip. “Sounds like you're already trying to console yourself. Are
you  that  scared?”
“Not really.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Hey, so I’m going to rent a bike while
we’re in  PyeongChang, so think of some places you wanna go.”
Yuri grinned. Okay, this was already going to be the best two weeks of his
life. “Yeah.” Yeah, there was no way he was getting to sleep any time soon.
 
The men’s short program was scheduled the same day as the opening ceremony,
which was hectic enough without there being an unbelievable mix up with the
rooming assignments. Basically, Yuri was pissed to have spent eleven hours on a
plane then a bus, to be told that there wasn’t a bed for him because they had
mixed him up with Yuuri Fucking Katsuki. Just  how ? He was livid.
“It was an honest mistake,” Yakov sighed, patting him on the back. “Katsuki has
been training with us until a month ago - it was just a simple clerical error.”
“Yeah, well you’re not the one who has to share a bed with Viktor,” he
grumbled, waiting for the elevator doors to open.
“It’s only for one night, and you’ll more than likely get your  own  room after
that.” Yuri rolled his eyes as they both got into the elevator and Yakov pushed
both the buttons for the ground floor and the coaches’ level. “Anyway, don’t
stay out too late tonight. I know this is exciting, but remember the reason why
you're here.”
Viktor waved him over the second he exited the elevator, waiting by the exit
with Chris, Georgi, Mila, and Katsudon. He sighed heading over to them.
“When did you get in?” he asked Katsudon - the current bane of his existence.
Katsudon tilted his head to the side. “Uh, two hours ago. Why?”
“Did your  room assignment go alrigh t?” he spat.
“Um, yeah.  Why ?”
Yuri scoffed as Viktor wrapped an arm around his fiance’s waist. “He’s just
being bitter, love. Don’t pay attention him.”
“Uh,… I feel I should ask anyway. What happened?”
Yuri rolled his eyes, but Georgi jumped in. “Somehow they got our old roster
confused with the Olympic one, and well there were two Yuris so somehow
planning here got confused and thought that only one Yuri was coming to
PyeongChang.” He looked almost delighted. Yuri wanted to punch him.
Katsudon’s eyes widened. “You don’t have a room, Yuri?”
“We got it cleared up, but for now  Yuri, Viktor, and Georgi are together.”
Mila added helpfully.
“Wait, you two are sharing a room?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow, pointing
between Katsudon and Viktor.
“Wrong Yuri, Chris,” Mila chuckled. Both Yuri and Katsudon rolled their eyes at
her.
“What’s even funnier,” Georgi said with a smirk. “Is that Viktor offered to
share his bed first.”
Yuri rolled his eyes again, then glared at both Chris and Georgi.
“Oh my,” Chris’ grin turned devious. “I hope you can keep  your  Yuris
straight.”
Yuri gagged, while Viktor looked like he’d been slapped in the face. Katsudon
looked disturbed to put it mildly. They gave each other a disgusted once-over,
before turning back to the others.
“He’s like my son,” Viktor gasped, at the same time Yuri yelled, “He’s like the
family dog.”
Viktor turned to him, a look of pure hurt across his face. “Well. You can sleep
on the floor tonight.”
Katsudon chuckled softly as Yuri scoffed, sticking out his tongue. “I don’t
care. I’ll sleep with Beka.”
Georgi choked on his breath while Chris raised an eyebrow and his entire face
lit up. Mila caught on a split second later and elbowed him in the ribs.
“I didn’t know you two were like  that ,” Chris chuckled.
Yuri groaned, stalking back over to the elevators. “Would it hurt you guys not
to act like you’re fucking twelve?”
He didn’t even know where he was going, just that he didn’t want to be around
them any more.
“Wait Yurochka!” Viktor called, “I thought were were going to get something to
eat-”
“Yuri Plisetsky?” A security guard stopped him and Yuri paused, looking up at
him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, right? Or had he shouted too loudly? Wait,
what if they weren’t allowed to curse here.
“Uh, yes?” he swallowed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit.
Yakov was going to love this.
“A few of your fans came around earlier, but you understand that we could not
let them in.”
“Uh, yeah.” He sighed an internal sigh of relief.
“One of them left an envelope for you.”
“Oh, um-”
“How cute,” Viktor smiled, coming up behind him and setting a hand against his
shoulder. “The Angels are nothing if not  devoted .” He turned to the security
guard. “We’re about to go out now, would you be able to bring it up to our
room?”
The security guard nodded and Viktor flashed him a bright smile.
“It’s a bit odd that they didn’t wait until the short program tomorrow,” Georgi
mused as the others caught up to them. “They would have a better chance of
meeting you in person there.” He shrugged. “But I’m not pretending to
understand the thought process of a twelve-year-old-girl.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
 
Yuri had just changed out of his tracksuit when a message from Otabek back in.
Beka:
 615
Yuri rolled his eyes. He would be so cryptic sending his fucking room number.
Me:
 I’ll be there in five minutes.
Beka:
 Actually, meet me in the lobby.
Me:
We’re going out?
 You already got the bike?
Beka:
It’s not that difficult
 Bring a warm jacket
Me:
 Okay dad
Otabek was waiting for him by the entrance and Yuri wasted no time in ditching
Viktor and Katsudon - on their way to where the fuck - to run over to him.
“Beka!” he yelled bouncing over. Otabek looked up from his phone and raised a
hand in greeting when he saw Yuri.
“Hey,” he said, adjusting his leather jacket and glancing over Yuri’s shoulder
to Viktor and Katsudon.
Viktor gave him a stiff smile before Katsudon not-so-subtlety elbowed him in
the ribs.
“It’s good to see you, Otabek,” he started softly. “I hope you two don’t stay
out too late tonight.”
Otabek modded. “We’ll just go around for a short drive. I want to get to know
the city a bit more.”
“Oh you rented a car?” Viktor asked.
“A motorbike.”
“ Oh ,” Viktor’s voice was at least three pitches higher.
Katsudon behan guiding him over to the exit. “Be extra careful then.”
“I will-“
“Oh my God, shut the fuck up, you two aren’t my parents!” Yuri yelled, but they
had already gone through the automatic doors.
“Ready?” Otabek asked, turning to him.
“Are we really just going for a drive?”
A corner of Otabek’s mouth twitched upwards and he motioned Yuri to follow him
outside. There was a black motorcycle parked a little way off from the main
building. “I found a bar that doesn’t check IDs. We can go there for a bit.”
Did he have like a magic power? He’d been in Korea for less than two hours and
he already found a bar. Just how the fuck? He didn’t even speak Korean.
“Here.” He tossed Yuri a helmet already swinging his leg over the back of the
bike and kicking up the stand. “Let’s go.”
The bar was a dimly lit place off the side of an alley that looked like the
sort of place people went to get murdered. Yuri’s hand itched to hold onto the
back of Otabek’s jacket as he followed him into the building. The inside looked
just as sketchy as the outside, dim lighting, and scarred, wooden furniture,
but a guy in a leather jacket, like twenty facial piercings, and a cigarette
hanging out the side of his mouth waved at Otabek as he passed.
“What the fuck?” Yuri muttered.
Otabek scoffed softly nodding at the man. “He’s the one that told me about this
place.”
Yuris eyes bulged as he glanced back to the man. He had a neck tattoo and
biceps the size of his head. What the fuck. “H-how do you know him?” He was
almost scared of the answer.
Otabek shrugged. “I don’t. Met him this afternoon, I stopped for something to
eat and he and his gang-“
“ Gang !”
“Bikers are some of the nicest people you’ll ever met. His English wasn’t
really that good, but we’re here now so that’s what matters.”
Yuri swallowed. “If we get murdered tonight I’m gonna be pissed.”
He scoffed again, pulling out a bar stool for Yuri. “You won’t be pissed;
you’ll be dead. And no one is going to mess with us.”
Yuri jumped up onto the stool and watched as Otabek sat down next to him. Yeah,
no one would ever mess with Otabek. What he lacked in height he sort of made up
for with muscle. He was on a special training program to gain mass and this
past year had brought results. Plus, with all the black, leather, and his
resting bitch face he was completely badass. No one would fuck with him.
“What are you drinking?” He asked.
“Uhhh.” He looked around for a menu but everything was written in Korean.
“Whatever you are.”
“I’m not having anything; I’m driving.”
He felt his cheeks heat. “Oh right, uh, I don’t know, just like a beer or
something.”
Otabek nodded and a corner of his mouth flickered upwards. “Am I a bad
influence on you?”
Yuri’s eyes widened and he gulped. “N-no. I drink; it’s just that I don’t
understand a single word written anywhere here.”
One of his eyebrows quirked upwards.
“Stop making fun of me.”
“I’m not.” He was grinning now.
“You are.”
“No, I just think you’re cute.”
Yuri whipped his head around, hair flying and stinging his face. “You, what?
I’m not  cute . Fuck off.”
He snickered softly, waving to the bartender. Yuri watched speechless as Otabek
ordered him a beer pronouncing whatever brand it was perfectly - or well enough
for the bartender to understand.
Shaking his head, he took a sip of the cool beer the bartender set in front of
him a few moments later.
“Not good?” Otabek asked.
“No, uh… I’m just,” he huffed, shoving the bottle towards him. “Here try.”
He paused, before sighing and picking it up. “It’s a bit bitter, not too bad
though.”
Yuri rolled his eyes, grabbing the drink back from him and drinking enough to
make his cheeks puff up. Ugh, it was really bitter. He set the bottle down on
the bar top with a loud thump and watched as the liquid inside frothed.
“Can you believe we’re actually here?” he mumbled. “It doesn’t even seem real.”
Otabek leaned in close. “Yeah, it’s surreal. I’ve always dreamed about coming
to the Olympics, and now that we’re actually here its…”
“Yeah.” Yuri breathed in deeply, kicking his heels against the stool legs.
“Yeah, we’ve only worked our asses off for this for like our entire life. I
don’t think I’ll even sleep tonight.”
“Yakov will kill you.”
Yuri shrugged. “Aren’t you nervous?”
“Petrified actually; I’m the only Kazakhstani figure skater here.” He even
looked cool admitting he was scared. “And my parents are renting out a banquet
hall so all the family can watch together.”
Yuri scoffed. “They’d actually do that?”
“If they could invite the president of Kazakhstan they would. I’m sure my mom
has tried.”
He hide a smile behind his beer bottle. Hearing Otabek’s stories about his
family was one of his favourite things; he had a huge family and they all
seemed to care about each other. That was something else he had only dreamt of.
“Your mom seems like fun.”
Otabek tilted his head. “She’s… uh, something. You’ll meet her this summer,
then  tell me what you think.”
Yuri wrapped his hands around the bottle, watching as a few condensation drops
gather in the crease between his skin and the glass. “She’s better than my
mom.” He ground his teeth when he felt Otabek stiffen beside him. “Whatever, I
don’t want to talk about her tonight. Get me another beer.”
Otabek poked him in the side. “Finish that one first.”
He stuck out his tongue and Otabek copied him. It always shocked him a bit
whenever he saw the silver piercing in the middle of his tongue. It must have
hurt so badly; he didn’t even have anything pierced, and he couldn't even
imagine sticking a needle through his  tongue . But Lilia would probably kill
him anyway, so even the thought wasn’t worth it.
They headed back after Yuri finished his second beer.
“Hold onto me tightly, okay?” Otabek instructed as he settled himself of the
bike.
Yuri rolled his eyes. “I’m not drunk. I’m not even tipsy.” He was a bit tipsy,
and pressed his cheek against Otabek’s back, tightening his arms around his
waist anyway. Otabek patted his clasped hands before revving the engine, and
Yuri wasn’t sure if his cheeks were stinging from a blush or from the cold air
that whipped past.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Otabek said as the elevator dinged for his floor.
“Yeah,” Yuri tucked his hair behind his ear. “Um,  davai , I guess.”
Otabek cocked his head, then hesitated for the briefest moments before stepping
up and hugging him. “Yeah,  davai .”
He let go quick enough, but something didn’t feel right, and Otabek seemed to
notice it too. “Did you get taller?” he asked, sliding his foot between the
door and the wall so it wouldn’t close on him.
Yuri swore. “Probably. I think I grew a few centimeters since the Grand Prix.
It’s fucking annoying.”
Otabek chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve still been landing all your jumps. Anyway,”
he slipped through the door before it started to scream at them. “Good night,
Yura.”
“Yeah-” the door closed. “.... night.” He slumped against the metal paneled
wall, cold seeping in through his jacket.
 
The morning of the men’s short program was pure chaos. There was a shuttle to
take the athletes from the Olympic Village to the  Gangneung Ice Arena. Yuri
got a window seat at the back of the bus, put in his headphones and tried not
to bounce his leg as Viktor sat down next to him.  Katsudon had to travel with
his team again, and Viktor had complained loudly for most of the morning. If it
was on thing Yuri couldn’t wait for it was Katsudon coming back to Saint
Petersburg so Viktor would just shut the fuck up.
Abram stood at the front of the bus, and gave a short, angry pep talk that Yuri
dutifully ignored, glaring at the back of Yakov’s head. He didn’t need an
asshole yelling at him right now. He was nervous enough on his own.
“I never knew you bit your nails,” Viktor yanked his headphones away form his
ears. Yuri swore at him, pulling his thumb from his mouth.
“I don’t.”
Viktor smiled tilting his head sideways. “It’s okay, Yurochka, we’re all
nervous too.”
Mila poked up from the row in front of them. “I feel like I’m going to vomit,
and I'm not even competing today.”
Yuri rolled his eyes. “You’re weak, that’s why.”
She stuck out her tongue at him. “ Anyway , you’ll be fine. Yakov showed us the
worldwide qualifying scores, yours was pretty high up there.”
Yuri shrugged.
“Not as high as mine,” Viktor nudged him. “But we’re not expecting a miracle
today.”
Mila swatted him over the head with her jacket, and Gerogi groaned, pressing
his phone to his chest for a few seconds to glare at him. Yuri couldn’t help
but grin as Viktor chuckled and shielded himself from Mila’s attacks.
Later, sitting the athlete’s lounge, Yuri was trying not to bounce his leg yet
again. Everything around him was going too fast. Warm ups had only been a few
seconds  ago, when he knew it had been more like twenty minutes, but he’d been
rushed back in here, given water and a towel, and the Abram had given him a
quick rundown about how everything was going to go. The entire day had just
been people telling him what to do and where to go, and he felt like he was
walking with his head in the clouds because none of it seemed  real . Yuri felt
like he was going to throw up. He didn’t even know where Viktor was, or the
rest of his team. And he hadn’t even seen Otabek for the whole day. He’d gotten
a good luck message the morning, but if Otabek’s day was going anything like
his, he probably hadn’t even picked up his phone since then. Yuri wrapped his
arms around his stomach and leaned back against the wall. His music was loud
enough that he could block out everything else, but he could still sense the
amount of chaos going on around him - especially around the large television
that was showing what was going on rinkside. He didn’t dare go up to the group
of coaches and skates he’d never seen before. He would probably throw up in
front of all of them. So, much nervous energy was rolling off the other
athletes that he could almost taste it in the air. It was disgusting. It felt
like his senior debut on steroids, with his tight stomach, and the prickly cold
sweat forming on his back.
And the fucking icing on this shit-cake was that his skates were fucking tight.
Well, they had been a bit snug these past few months, but now there was no
denying that they were too tight.  When  had he fucking grown? On the flight
from Saint Petersburg? This was ridiculous. It had already been too late to get
new skates, because breaking in a new pair so close to such a major competition
would be a nightmare, but he had no clue how he was supposed to spend longer
than a few minutes in these. Whatever, he told himself, tying his laces, this
was the fucking Olympics. He could suck it up for that. His grandpa was going
to be watching. Lilia was in the stands, and all of Russia, all of the world
would be looking at him. It didn’t fucking matter if his feet hurt. But they
still fucking hurt.
Someone tapped on his headphone and he nearly leapt from his seat. Only years
of training allowed him to keep his balance in his skates.
Abram stood angrily to his side, motioning for him to take off his headphones.
He hung them around his neck, as his stomach started to hurt with anxiety.
“Am I next?” He bit his lip.
“Two more skaters, let’s go.” He grabbed his arm, pulling him from the room.
“Wait, where’s Yakov?”
“In the kiss-and-cry with Viktor.”
Shit, Viktor had already skated? He’d missed it? Why hadn’t anyone told him?
“Did they announce his score yet?”
He shook his head, urging Yuri on. “Go stretch, warm yourself up.”
“But-”
He was on the ice in a whirl of colours. He could feel his heart beating in his
toenails, and his stomach was so tight that he could barely stand up straight.
Were normal area lights so bright? And how the hell was he sweating, when his
fingertips were freezing?
“Yurochka!” Yakov came jogging up to the sideboards, huffing. Yuri spun around,
just trying to breathe, but seeing the old man, with the Team Russia jacket
over his blazer, was a relief. Yakov set and hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“Make us proud. One more time”
Yuri nodded, tugging at the sequined sleeves of his costume. It wasn’t his
favourite costume by far, a red and nude bodysuit, with his entire back out and
slits along the sides of his calves – the rink air was giving him Goosebumps.
Yakov gave him a gentle shove as his name was announced over the speakers. He
took several deep breaths, as he skated to the centre of the rink. If he
ignored all the Olympic branding and all the country flags this could be any
competition. Yeah, it was no different, except maybe ten thousand times as
important. Okay, if Viktor could do this, if Katsudon, Mila, Georgi, and
Otabek  could do this, then he could too. He did a few wide circles, stretching
out his calves, and shoulders, ignoring his toes as they jammed into the front
of his boots. Just breathe, he told himself. Just focus on the program - he’d
done in only a million times before. He took up his starting pose, waiting for
the music. God, his feet fucking hurt.
Once the music started, he had a few beats before the choreography began. It
started slowly, but built quickly and held the fast paced tempo for majority
for the program – a test to his endurance. This was the fucking Olympics – he
needed a routine that would blow everyone out of the water. The first step
sequence went smoothly, fluidly, like how Katsudon had showed him, but he might
have lost a toenail or two in the process, or burst a few blisters. Whatever
that wasn’t important, he prepared himself for his signature Biellmann spin,
catching his skate with one hand and holding his breath as he arched his back.
 Two beats, three, and his first jump was up next – a triple Lutz. Crushing
pain tore through his foot as it hit the ice, costing him precious time for the
set up. There wasn’t enough power in his jump - he felt it right away; it
turned into a double. He clenched his jaw as he landed, toes ramming into the
front of the boot. Ignore it. But he couldn’t. Okay, next jump; he leapt. Fuck,
over rotated, and his toes felt like they had been crushed when he landed. He
growled, looping into a wide circle before the next set of choreography. Each
movement was close to agony, and he wondered how the fuck could his feet grow
so fast without him noticing. It was almost as if it had been overnight, like
his body was trying to sabotage him. It wasn’t fucking fair.
His routine was over  in the blink of an eye, just as soon as he started, he
was holding his finishing pose, trying hard not to fall to the ice and
scream.That was it, there were no do-overs, he couldn’t try again, that was it.
He’d fucked up. He stood panting for a few seconds, clenching his jaw, and
trying not to break down in front of the cameras. Fuck. He blew it. And  the
throbbing in his feet, was like his own body laughing at him. He hadn’t even
fallen once, but it was still a shitty program. He knew it, the judges knew it,
and so did everyone else.  He hung his head, keeping his eyes glued to his toes
as he skated to the kiss-and-cry.  
“We didn’t come this far for you to choke,” Abram hissed as soon as he sat down
on the bench on Yuri’s other side. Yakov’s hand tightened on his shoulder.
“What was all that training for if you just throw it all away? This is the
Olympics , Yuri, what you just did out there was unacceptable-“
“It’s done now.” Yakov snapped, his hand was heavy on Yuri’s shoulder, warm
enough to make it harder to hold back tears. He shouldn't have needed to be
comforted; he should have been congratulated. “Yelling at him like that won’t
make a difference. And hush, they’re ready to announce his score.”
He was one of the last skaters of the day. Katsudon and Viktor  had already
gone, so did Chris and JJ and Katsudon’s Thai friend; Otabek was competing
right before the last skater. He knew there was no chance for redemption at
this point. He didn’t even want to hear his score.
Sixth was not a place for Yuri Plisetsky. He had somehow managed to score high
enough to advance to the free skate, but there was still a bitter taste in his
mouth. Even if Mila and Georgi had insisted that sixth in the world wasn’t
something to be mad about; he knew that he could have done better.
 
Beka:
 Didn’t mean to bump you down to seventh
Me:
Shut the fuck up
Why are you apologising?
 Your program was amazing and I deserved it
And it was. He had made sure to watch it on the screen in the athletes’ lounge
before marching off in the middle of Abram’s rant and leaving him with his
skate bag. Otabek’s training program was working wonders. Yuri had thought him
crazy for wanting to put on mass, but with the amount of muscle in his legs, he
made quads look easy. His style had always worked in his favour; he looked so
fucking powerful, but he had really brought it today, and now he was third
after JJ. Yuri was almost jealous, well he was jealous, but Otabek was his
friend, his best friend, so it didn’t count.
Beka:
everything okay?
 Was hoping that we would be able to spend a little time together during the
competition
Me:
 Yeah, everything was so hectic
Beka:
So what happened out there?
I mean it wasn’t a bad program
 But it wasn’t like YOU
Yuri sighed wanting to toss his phone across the room, but instead stared at
his feet submerged in a basin of warm water and Epsom salts. His feet had been
a mass of pressure lines, new blisters, and bruises when he’d taken them off.
He changed quickly back into his sneakers, but it actually felt like he was
walking on knives.
Me:
 Skates are too small
Beka:
What?
 And you only now noticed?
Me:
They were a little bit tight during practice, but idk. I might have had a
growth spurt between our last practice in Saint Petersburg and today
 Fucking body is trying to end my career
Beka:
 Why didn’t you get new skates?
Me:
I don't know
I didn’t think I’d grow so fast
 It was THREE FUCKING DAYS
Beka:
 I knew you got taller
Yuri huffed, swishing his feet in the water.  All he wanted to do was lie down
and sleep after this shitshow of a day, but the opening ceremony was also that
night, which meant a lot more standing and walking around.
Beka:
So are we going to get new skates tomorrow?
 I can ask Seung-gil if he can help to find a place
Me:
Um…
They’ll be a nightmare to break in.
The free skate is in two day!
 That’s way too soon!!
Beka:
 You can give it your best tomorrow. Plus new skates will be better than tight
skates
Me:
 I don’t know if that’ll work
Beka:
You should give yourself a fair chance
 This is the Olympics after all
Yuri bit his lip. He hated breaking in skates. But if he wore at least two
pairs of socks and bandaged his bruises properly it would better than
potentially losing a toe.
Me:
Okay. But don’t let anyone know.
 I got enough lectures today
And if either Yakov or Abram found out that was the reason why he’d staked
poorly that day then he’d never hear the end of it. Yakov would bring it up at
his funeral.
Beka:
 My lips are sealed
Yuri flopped backwards onto the bed, resting  his phone against his chest. It
was amazing how Otabek could exude calmness over a fucking text conversation.
He always had the solution for everything. It was almost scary how he knew
everything or could figure out what to do so quickly, but in the year they’d
known each other for, Yuri had realised that was just him. He was a quick
thinker. Okay, he had all of Saturday and Sunday to break in his new skates. If
he could at least bring himself up to forth with his free skate then maybe he
could forgive himself for coming here and mess everything up. God, why did he
have to grow? Weren’t omegas supposed to be all small and delicate? Well, he
bit his lip, Katsudon was like 173 centimeters and the tallest in his family,
so maybe that stereotype actually counted for shit. Still, it was annoying, who
the fuck had a growth spurt during the Olympics? Like what the actual fuck? If
it cost him a medal, he was going to saw his feet off when he got home.
Chapter End Notes
     So, I was trying to stay true to the schedule of the Winter Olympics,
     but I planned this months before the actual schedule was released.
     The team events screwed up my timeline - so I'm ignoring them for the
     sake of my sanity and not having to re-plot at least three of my
     chapters. Anyway, I'm and pushing the men's and ladies' program up to
     the days were the team events are scheduled so the men's SP is
     February 9th and the FS is two days after. Yeah, fiction-power :)

     Deleted_Scene

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


     This fic will be updated every other week so the next update will be
     on February24th - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on
     my Tumblr :)
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Chapter Warnings:
     -Mentions of recreational drug use
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The PyeongChang area was bustling the next morning. For such a small city,
there was sure as hell a lot of people. Yuri tucked his hands into the pockets
of his jacket and kept his head low, hoping that no one would recognise him. He
wanted to push his disastrous short program as far as he could from his mind,
and for some fucking reason everyone he had met had wanted to grill him about
it. Reporters, other athletes, even the dam security guards stopped him to
talk.
“They’re not making fun of you, Yuri,” Katsudon had said quietly after Yuri had
scared off a speed-skater from Italy. “Seventh place is amazing for your first
ever Olympics.”
Yuri had rolled his eyes, causing Viktor to glare. Easy for him to say, he was
in fourth place, getting to the podium was within arms’ reach. Viktor was
already in first place. He had ignored them for the night; he’d actually
ignored everyone and after the opening ceremony had locked himself in his room
and deleted every text message asking him where he was. He knew all sorts of
wild parties were going on, there was even someone going around handing out
condoms, but he knew that he wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself anyway,
not with how he’d performed hanging over his head. They’d probably laugh and
call him a baby anyway.
Even Otabek had posted a picture to his Instagram. It was him, JJ, Leo, and
Guang Hong squished together to get into frame. He could see the tops of beer
bottles and plastic cups in each of their hands. Yuri had tried to text him,
but all his replies had been incoherent until none other than fucking JJ had
answered for him and told Yuri that he was high out of his mind. For some
reason imagining Otabek high made his stomach go cold; where had he even gotten
weed from? Wasn’t it like illegal?
But Otabek seemed to be fine now, and he had texted Yuri early the next morning
to say that he had gotten Seung-gil’s help in finding a skate shop. They could
leave as soon as he was ready. After ditching Viktor and Katsudon, because he
sure as fuck didn’t want to go sightseeing with  them,  he ran out to where
Otabek had parked his bike . Otabek was waiting next to his motorbike in a
black winter coat and leather boots.
“Aren’t you hungover?” Yuri mumbled, jogging up to him.
Otabek shrugged a shoulder, swinging one leg over the bike. “Didn’t drink that
much.” He tossed Yuri a helmet.
“JJ and Leo’s stories said differently,” Yuri scoffed, fastening the helmet
strap under his chin and getting on behind him.
“I don’t like mixing weed and alcohol. I had a beer when we first got to
Mannes' room, uh, he's a Dutch snowboarder. Then I stuck to brownies for the
rest of the night.”
“Brownies?” Yuri raised an eyebrow, as Otabek started the engine.
He felt Otabek’s shoulders shake as he chuckled. “Magic brownies.”
Oh. He felt a little winded as the bike jolted forward and scrambled to wrap
his arms around Otabek’s waist.
The skate shop was only a ten minute drive from the Olympic village. It was a
small store inside of an equally small ice rink. It didn’t carry all the brands
Yuri was used to, but he found a pair of skates in his size – well new size –
and had tried them on with the two pairs of socks he’ had brought with him. At
least the new skates would be sharp. Factory sharp, but even that was better
than too tight boots.
“You know, if you told Yakov about this you could be reimbursed. This is an
Olympic expenditure.” Otabek mused as the cashier; a bored looking kid probably
only thirteen years old, calculated the price; Yuri had also picked up a tub of
wax and new guards as well. Yuri said a quick prayer that he looked like he
didn’t give two shits about skating or the winter Olympics. Or at least he
hadn’t recognised them.
“If I tell Yakov, he’ll yell at me for being irresponsible.” Yuri mumbled.
“How could you have known you would have another growth spurt?” Otabek’s mouth
was twitching upwards.
“He’ll still get mad at me. Then Abram would probably try to send me home.”
“Abram?”
“Team manager.” He handed his card to the cashier, not even bothering to figure
out the price he had told him. The exchange rate was weird. The cashier thanked
them in Korean, so Yuri just nodded.
“Do you want to practice here, or try to see if we can get into the Gangneung
Arena?”
Yuri bit his lip, hugging his new skates to his chest. “I don’t want Yakov
sniffing this out.”
The rink was almost completely empty with the exception of a small family. Yuri
quickly laced his skates, grimacing at the stiff leather boots. This part was
always the worst; most of his blisters had come from new skates. The rink
charged per hour so Otabek had paid for four and despite Yuri’s protests paid
for him as well.
“Let’s just see how much we can get in before my feet start to bleed,” Yuri
mumbled.
Otabek grinned, guiding him onto the ice with a hand on his shoulder. They
started off with lazy circles, Yuri getting used to the looser, but stiffer fit
of his skates. After a quick warm-up he went through one of his step sequences,
and then tried a few upright spins. Otabek copied him and Yuri ended up
laughing.
“Imagine if we did a pair routine,” he chuckled.
Otabek scoffed, turning to skate in front of him. He grabbed Yuri’s hands,
skating backwards. “Why can’t we?”
Yuri’s eyebrows shot up, and he stared wide-eyed at Otabek’s impassive
expression. What the hell, might as well make this torture fun. He pulled his
hands away, darting to the other end of the rink. Otabek effortlessly followed.
They skated figure eights around each other, paths crossing every so often.
Grinning openly, Otabek grabbed Yuri’s hands again and they spun in a circle.
“We could probably win gold like this,” Yuri said smirking. 
“Maybe.” He bent his knees into a squat, and Yuri followed, leaning back and
letting Otabek counterbalance his weight. The rink turned into a blur around
him, and he let his eyes fall shut until he felt Otabek stand back up.
They skated side by side for a few minutes before Yuri gave Otabek a sidelong
glance and launched forward into a corkscrew spin. Otabek was a split second
behind him and finished with such grace that maybe to the untrained eye, it
looked like they were actually pair skating. Next he did a flying shotgun spin,
and Otabek copied him a few feet away, coming close enough into Yuri’s space
that he thought they would crash into each other. They didn’t, but when he
straightened, Otabek was much closer to him than he expected.
Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Are you just going to copy me?”
Otabek shrugged. Yuri scoffed again.
He focused on basic footwork next, the thing that would have his feet sliding
around his boot the most; edge changes, using his toe pick, directional
changes. Even through the layers of socks he could feel the skin on his heel
and sides of his toes, chafing. And through all of that Otabek dutifully skated
behind him. Yuri had to suppress a smile at his friend’s antics.
“So what else happened last night?” Yuri asked skating backwards on one foot,
focusing on easing between the inside and outside edge of his blade.
“Uh, well it wasn’t really wild where we were, but I heard stories.”
“ Stories ?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. There might have been an orgy on the ninth floor.”
His eyes widened and he almost fell over. “ What ?”
He shrugged again. “I didn’t check to see if it was true or not.”
Yuri swallowed. “No, you just got high.”
His grin was small. “Precisely.”
Yuri spun around, giving him his back.
“You could have come if you wanted to, you know.” Otabek continued.
“What? To the the  orgy ?”
Otabek snickered. “I meant with Leo and the others. We really just had a pretty
chill night.”
Oh. he didn’t know why he felt relieved. “Wasn’t in the mood.”
Otabek hummed in response. “Well, next time. We have the entire week.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure about the getting high though; he’d never done that
before either and Yakov, his Grandpa, and Lilia would most definitely kill him
if they found out. Why was his stomach tightening all of a sudden? He glanced
at Otabek out of the corner of his eye, he was standing straight, shoulders
thrown back as he gilded alongside him. They had known each other a year, when
was he going to stop being so fucking cool and badass? Yuri shook his head,
clenching his hands. Yeah, he was a cool, level-headed adult who was probably
doing his good deed of the fucking century by being friends with an immature
brat. “Hey, I’m gonna run through my free skate a few times. You don’t have to
try to copy that.”
Otabek playfully raised an eyebrow the edges of his mouth cracking into a
smile. Yuri’s stomach just kept on sinking lower. “You don’t think I can?”
“No… It’s just,” he sighed. “You don’t have to keep me company.”
Otabek tilted his head to the side. “I want to. But yeah, I’ll stay out of your
way.”
Yuri huffed, watching as Otabek skated back to the stands. The family had left
some time ago, after sending the two of them odd looks. But it wasn’t like
either one of them could understand anything they had to say. Or maybe Otabek
actually secretly spoke Korean. The fuck if he knew. All the weed probably gave
him superpowers or some shit.
He waited until Otabek was seated in the stands, and had flashed him a thumbs
up for whatever reason. Yuri shook his head; a few wisps of hair had already
escaped his ponytail and stuck to his forehead, but were dislodged with the
sudden movement. He knew the music by heart, so that wasn’t a problem, but
there was always a nervous chill that came along with doing a routine in a new
rink. He took a deep breath, shaking out his arms as he skated to the centre of
the rink. His starting pose, head bowed, legs cross at the ankle and arms held
out to the side. Lilia had thought that fire and passion suited him - she
called this program  Dance of Flames . He had skated it near perfectly during
the qualifiers.
He ran through it three times, before a wetness in his left boot stopped him.
It was either sweat or blood; he was banking on the later. He expected to be
pouring blood out of his boots once he took them off for the day.
“How long have we been here?” he panted as he leaned against the sideboards.
Otabek was already in his street shoes.
“Uh,” he looked like he was about to say something else, but dug his phone out
of his pocket. “Three hours and forty six minutes. You done?”
“Pass my water bottle?” He  fished it out of his open bag and tossed it to him.
“Yeah, let me just cool down. I think my feet are going to fall off.” Otabek
winced in empathy.
His socks were stained red at the toes. A blister had formed and broke on his
left, middle toe, and the arch of his little toe was missing a few layers of
skin. His right foot was not any better. Yeah skating with his feet like this
wasn’t going to be any fun. Otabek sat next to him and hissed when he saw his
feet.
“Still think this was the best idea?” he mumbled, dabbing at his little toe
with a cotton ball he had fished out of his bag. He dug around the bottom for
the box of adhesive bandages and a tiny bottle of antiseptic wash he remembered
throwing in that morning.
Otabek shrugged. “Yeah. It’s still better than too small skates.” he was silent
as Yuri finished cleaning his feet. “You want to go get something to eat before
we head back?”
“Yeah,” he laced up his sneakers. “I’m starving.”
Otabek nodded. “Good, I looked up a few places while you were practicing. Hope
you’re in the mood for authentic Korean.” He seemed oddly happy with himself
for whatever reason. And why wouldn't he be? He was in third place at the
fucking Olympic games. He had his entire family, his entire country routing for
him and he had done them proud. He was a fucking national treasure. Yuri’s
stomach clenched and he tried not to squirm. Otabek was his friend - he
shouldn’t be jealous of friends.
“And if I’m not?”
He shrugged. “Well that’s too bad, ‘cause that’s all there is here.”
Yuri rolled his eyes, shoving his shoulder.
 
The second day was worse. Blisters formed on top of blisters and there was a
bruise right on top of the bone of his ankle that not even his thickest socks
could protect. Yuri and Otabek stayed at the little rink until they were kicked
out by an apologetic, spindly man in his late forties. He was definitely going
to have to soak his feet when he got back to his room. Otabek had parked right
outside the rink, so it was literally a few steps from the front door to the
bike. Yuri’s feet honestly felt like they were going to fall off and he thanked
whatever god there was, that he was skating later on in the competition and
didn’t have to get up until like eleven. He was going to go straight to bed; he
didn’t even know if he had the energy to shower. He could barely hold on to
Otabek as he drove them back to the Olympic village.
“So, Leo and JJ wanted to go out for drinks in a while, if you're interested,”
Otabek said once he had cut the engine.
Yuri bit his lip, feeling his heartbeat in his toes. “I uh... I’m kind of
tired.” Not to mention the thought of drinking with JJ was enough to make him
vomit. “And my feet hurt.” He rocked onto his heels to take his weight off his
toes.
Otabek nodded. “Oh, right. Of course. I’ll tell them after the free skate then-
”
Yuri’s eyes widened and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “You can go
without me. I don’t... well... you’ve been with me all day.”
Otabek shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he jerked his head towards the entrance.
“Let’s get inside. I’m freezing.”
In hindsight, renting a bike during the dead of winter hadn’t been the best
idea. Korea wasn’t nearly as cold as Russia or Kazakhstan, but they still
needed coats and the wind still cut straight through to their skin.
Yuri limped behind him, trying not to wince as the inside of his sneakers hit a
few blisters. So intent on trying to walk gingerly, he didn’t notice that
Otabek had stopped walking and nearly bowed into him. He was stooping down
slightly, his back to Yuri with his palms out facing him.
“Here, get on.”
Yuri’s face went hot enough to melt the snow around them. “What?”
“Your feet hurt, don’t they?”
“Yeah, but-”
Otabek wiggled his fingers and Yuri rolled his eyes, hopping onto his back
without anymore argument. He grinned as they drew closer to the entrance,
straightening his back and pulling himself higher.
“Onwards, noble steed!” he chuckled, pointing to the automatic doors.
“You have to swipe us in.” Otabek's voice was low and even.
“You could at least act the part,” Yuri grumbling, pulling out his ID card from
his jacket pocket.
“What, you want me to neigh?”
He snickered at the thought. “No. Clop-clopping would be enough.”
“I will drop you.”
The ass pretended to and Yuri actually squealed. “Beka!”
Both laughing now, they barrelled through the door and Yuri expected him to put
him down, but he immediately headed over to the elevators, turning a few heads
and gaining a couple snickers.
“Wait!”
“Hmm?”
“I want a selfie.”
Otabek grumbled softly. “Really? Of all the moments you’ve had at the Olympics
you want a picture of  this ?”
“Yes.”
He held out his phone, switching to the front-facing camera, and stuck out his
tongue. Otabek didn’t even pretend like he was having a good time. With the
corners of his mouth pulled downwards, he looked miserable, but Yuri knew
otherwise.
“Do you have to look like you’re dying?” he grumbled.
“Yes.”
He pinched him with his free hand and Otabek’s mask slipped just for a second.
He managed to get it on camera. He still didn’t look  happy , but at least it
wasn’t a frown. Otabek let him down after they had gotten into the elevator and
Yuri only played with two filters before posting the picture to Instagram and
tagging him in it. The caption took most of the elevator ride but he settled
on, ‘Free piggyback rides #PeyongChang2018 #WinterOlympics
#Mybestfriendisbetterthanyours’.
Otabek rolled his eyes, looking at his own phone and a second later his comment
appeared under the picture.
otabek-altin: It wasn’t free, I expect my payment later.
Yuri shoved him with his shoulder, and he laughed softly through his nose.
He hadn't expected that picture to blow up his Instagram later. He had sent
Otabek back to his room, saying that he needed to take a shower. And besides,
he had really spent all day watching him break-in his skates, Yuri would have
felt like shit if he had taken up his entire night too. Although the grumpy
face he had made when he had literally kicked him out, had him second guessing
himself. Maybe he wanted to do something else? But it was whatever, Otabek
didn’t need him hanging over his shoulder everywhere, especially if he was
going out with JJ and Leo.
He scrolled through the comments of some of his fans freaking out, while he
soaked his feet. There was always a group of them that screamed that he and
Otabek were dating if they so much as appeared in the same picture. He had
tried to shut them down when they had first started popping up, but decided
that it wasn’t worth his time in the end. They didn't believe him anyway, and
they’d get excited over the fact that he had replied to them and not pay
attention to what he actually said.
Hebetic:  #worldscutestcouple  @Nephograph this is proof right?
It was not proof, though. He and Otabek were literally just friends.
Nephograph:  look at those smiles!  @Hebetic if that’s not proof idk what is!
Kinda lowkey freaking out rn! Look at how cute they are together!
He rolled his eyes. Then some of Otabek’s fans came swooping in commenting in a
mess of Kazakh, Russian and sometimes English, calling out  his  fans to tell
them that there was  no way  Otabek would date him, when had had people
literally throwing themselves at his feet in Kazakhstan. He had nothing to do
there and scrolled until he saw a handle he recognised.
 Mila had commented first with a winky face, an eggplant emoji, and water
droplets. Yuri rolled his eyes, how mature. And where the fuck had that even
come from? He assumed the next comment was from one of Otabek’s friends from
Almaty, he had seen his name pop up on almost all of Otabek’s posts. But his
comment had offered some clarification to Mila’s.
Baltabek_Li:  What kind of payment are we talking ;) Get it, Beka!  @otabek-
altin
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Mila had liked it and replied with another set of emojis,
eggplant, peach and  God.  Yuri hit the reply button, his cheeks turning to
fire. He and Otabek were not like that. They were the furthest thing from that.
Why the fuck would he want to have sex with his friend? He ignored the forming
shivery, squishy feeling his stomach.
Yuri_plisetsky: @Milababi get off my post
Milababi: Just wishing the best for you!
Why was he even friends with her?
 
His free skate had brought him up to second place, and Yuri nearly jumped out
of his seat in the kiss-and-cry. All the blood and blisters had been worth it,
all the extra hours of practice in that tiny rink. Yakov wrapped his arm around
his shoulders and even Abram looked pleased. He held a new cat plushie to his
chest; someone had thrown the softest looking white, Persian onto the ice and
he had practically dove for it. Second he could live with, silver wasn’t
entirely bad considering he had been in fucking seventh place before.
But then Otabek had skated and pushed him down to third. Yuri’s throat had gone
dry, and he had to dig deep to force a smile and hug him when they met in the
athletes’ lounge. Then Katsudon had gone on and knocked him off the podium
entirely. He’d bitten his lip bloody when JJ had pushed him to fifth.
Then it was over. Once again, faster than he could really comprehend and all he
was left with was a dark, sinking hole in his stomach. Viktor had gotten gold,
of course, then Otabek and then JJ; Katsudon had come in forth. Fifth. He
wasn’t getting a medal, he wasn’t going to be part of the award ceremony, and
he would have to click the 'see more' button on the Olympics website if he
wanted to see his name.  Fifth . He pinched himself to see if he would wake up.
He couldn’t have come in fifth, not after how hard he had worked to get here.
No one remembered fucking fifth. And all because his own damn body had decided
that this would be a perfect time to grow. He wanted to shoot himself or saw
off his feet so he could get back his grace on the ice. He wasn’t made to be
fucking coming in fifth.
He spent the award ceremony trying not to bite off his tongue and grind his
teeth into dust. Yakov had to reign in a few of his interviews when he nearly
leapt at a reporter or two. He didn’t care, they could call him a diva or a
brat. He had come here to win and he had failed that. Nothing else mattered.
Yuri hated that he was crying and even though Yakov and Lilia were in his room
with him, he couldn’t stop.
“Yurochka,” Yakov started softly. “You did well today. You did your best, and
that’s all we could ever ask of you.”
Yuri wanted to jump out of the window. His best wasn’t good enough.
Lilia sat down next to him, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he
felt her body heat. “There are three spots on the podium, and you saw how many
people were competing to get there. You weren’t the only one who had your heart
set on being up there tonight. I’m sure that every single skater wanted it just
as much as you did.”
Yuri wipped his face, but that did nothing to help the hole in his chest. “I
know. But I could have done better, I could have-”
“You did what you could,” Yakov’s voice was firm.
“But everyone was counting on me, you guys, Grandpa, everyone at home-”
“You didn’t disappoint anyone, Yurochka. You were the youngest skater there-”
“So I was  supposed  to be the shittiest?” he banged his fist against his
thigh.
“No, I meant that it was impressive that you could have gone up against people
so much older and more experienced than you and still come in  fifth .”
That didn’t mean a thing. He was supposed to go home and show Grandpa his
medal. He wasn’t supposed to fail at this. “I want to go home.” He wrapped his
arms around his stomach and pretended he didn’t see the exasperated looks Yakov
and Lilia were sharing. This whole fucking Olympics had been a nightmare.
Yakov sighed heavily. “Fine. Go home. I won’t force you to support your team,
your country, or your fellow athletes.”
That stung. But he wouldn’t be much support anyway. Not when he felt like crap
and the weight of his failure was looming over his head.
He changed his flight to noon the next day, and just as he was about to plug in
his phone to charge and sleep away the shitty feelings a text popped up from
his grandpa.
Dedulya:
 COngratulastions YuroichjkA. IM PROUD O F YOU
He also hated that he cried into his pillow.
 
===============================================================================
 
“No, you’re coming with me,” Mila said, daring Yuri to challenge her. “This is
our last competition of the season, we have to do something together tonight.”
Yuri rolled his eyes, hooking his ankle behind his calf. The World Championship
was their last competition before the off season; it had actually been pretty
light after the Olympics. No one complained, but Yuri would have had to be dead
for him not to compete at Worlds. Mila and some of the other skaters were
meeting up in someone’s room to get wasted, or pre-game for some other shit. It
was actually kind of strange that she wanted him to come; she was usually weird
about him drinking in general. But she had been acting weird ever since his
birthday.  
“Come on, Yurochka,” she whined. “It’s just going to be the Crispinos, Emil,
Phichit, Kenjirou, Arya and Maria, Kyle, Jannik, Santi...” she paused, counting
on her fingers. “Okay fine it’s a lot of people but you should come anyway.
You’re always by yourself, it’s going to send the wrong message that you don’t
like anyone.”
He didn’t like anyone, especially the unfamiliar names she had listed.
Sighing, Yuri let his arms drop to his sides. “What are you guys doing?”
Mika’s face lit up and she grabbed his arm, cozying up to his side. It was so
fucking weird that he was nearing her height now. Even after the Olympics he
hadn’t stopped fucking growing. It had ruined so many of his competitions and
he had already gone through another pair of skates since the ones he bought in
February.
“We’re literally just drinking. We'll probably play a few games, but we’re all
too tired to go out.”
Yuri bit the inside of his cheek. It had been an exhausting season. “Fine,
Baba, I’ll come.”
Her squeal nearly deafened him.
A plastic cup of something strong was shoved into his hands as soon as he
stepped through the door. Mila had already thrown herself around Sara and was
happily chatting to Emil and Michele. Yuri peered into the room, there were way
too many people piled on the beds, and the TV stand and the night stand was
covered with all sorts of bottles of alcohol. He took a big gulp from his cup,
before edging his way to the corner with the least amount of people. Okay, he
was regretting coming along now; he really should have gone with Otabek and the
other Kazakhstani skaters. Mila had already forgotten about him.
It took Yuri nearly two hours to get bored. He had spent the entire time
scrolling through his Instagram then refreshing the feed when he hit old posts
then did the same with his Twitter and went through every single Snap story in
his feed – including all the news and sponsored posts. He had posted a selfie
from on top the podium earlier that night and it was doing fairly well. He
deleted the occasional comment about how sexy he looked in his costume, rolling
his eyes and trying to ignore the shaky feeling in his stomach. He had won
silver, after Katsudon, and the only thing they could find to say was about how
he looked.
Locking his screen after he deleted the most recent one, he glanced around him
and decided that he had enough of whatever this was. The person closest in age
to him was Kenjirou Minami, but they were two completely different people and
Kenjirou was in the middle of the room laughing at something Katsudon’s Thai
friend was showing him on his phone. His eyes also started to sparkle when
someone shouted that they should play truth or dare. Yuri could have committed
murder.
He sat next to Mila and was nearly pulled onto her lap by the sheer force of
her hug. She smelt drunk and the smell got even strong when she cheered Emil on
as he finished a bottle of Ciroc so they could use it to spin. Yuri should have
taken that at his cue to leave. The dares were ridiculous and involved a lot of
stripping and kissing, the truth questions were even worse, but every time he
tried to get up to leave Mila clung onto his arm. He prayed, actual true to God
prayed, that the bottle wouldn’t land on him.
Except it did on the next spin and he was left to gape at Katsudon’s Thai
friend. He knew he was completely devious behind his sunny smile and happy
eyes. Both his dares and questions had been the most ruthless that night, and
with the amount of pictures he had been taking he had enough blackmail fodder
for each skater in the room to last him at least a decade. He had learnt things
about almost everyone that he wished he hadn’t.
“Yuri,” he purred with a wide smile. Yuri wondered if this was what a tiger’s
prey felt like before it died. “Truth or dare?”
“Uh?” his throat had gone dry. Mila elbowed him.
“You can always back out, you know.”
“But then he has to take a shot.”
Mila rolled her eyes. “Don’t be too mean, Phichit.”
His innocent smile sent chills up Yuri’s spine. “I won’t! So, truth or dare?”
Yuri took a deep breath. If he chose dare they would make him do something
embarrassing and it would probably end up on social media. Truth might be
equally embarrassing, but at least they couldn’t document it. “Uh, truth.”
Phichit’s smile widened. “Okay, doing everyone a favour here.” What? “Are you
and Otabek fucking?”
It took a few seconds for Yuri’s entire body to turn red. He spluttered,
scooting backwards out of the circle. “ What ?” his voice hadn’t gone that high
in a long while. Phichit raised an eyebrow ready to repeat the question. Yuri
cut him off shaking his head viciously. “ No ! We’re just friends!”
He clicked his tongue looking disappointed. “Really?” Yuri felt as if everyone
in the room was edging closer. His cheeks couldn’t get any hotter and he
reached back to pull his hoodie over his head.
“Yes. God, why does everyone think that? We would never, I wouldn’t... Ugh, no!
Just... I haven’t even done anything like that before-”
“Wait, hold up.” Phichit made a zipping motion with this hand. “You’re a
virgin ?” Yuri snapped his mouth shut, wondering what had possessed him to pick
up a gun and shoot himself in his foot. If everyone hadn’t been staring at him
like a pack of vultures before, they looked positively starved now. He
swallowed; even Mila looked like she was about to egg him on, eyes bright. He
bit his bottom lip, balling his hands into fists.
“Huh,” Emil was stroking his beard. “I wouldn’t have pegged you.”
“Nuh uh,” Kenjirou agreed. Yuri had learnt way more about his sex life than he
had ever wanted to. Starting with that it existed. “You’re way too pretty.”
Again, what the fuck did that have to do with anything?
Mila gave him a tight, one-armed hug laughing. “That’s little Yurochka; all
bark and no bite!”
Yuri pushed her away. His chest was tightening and for some reason his eyes
were starting to prickle. “I’m not a baby,” he spat.
She ruffled his hair, pushing his hood back. “Yes you are! My little, baby
brother.”
There were snickers all around. Yuri was ready to punch someone. “Fuck off.”
“No, you haven’t done that yet,” ... thought they were being smart. Why did it
even matter?
“That’s admirable, Yuri,” Michele nodded at him, but he was swaying even
sitting down. Yuri wrapped an arm around his stomach, edging further away from
Mila, she was preoccuplied with Sara now anyway. “You’re a much stronger person
than all of us in here. And you’re what? Seventeen?-”
“Oh my god, when I was seventeen,” Emil chortled. “I had no idea you were so
innocent.”
“The fairy analogy is spot on,” Phichit mused.
Yuri’s skin was itching, and the room was way too hot. He was positive that he
had broken out in hives too. The laughing was too loud and everyone was way too
close. And why the fuck was everyone so interested in his sex life, in each
other’s sex life? God, he shouldn’t have come here. Yeah, he was just the
stupid, fucking baby, who didn’t know anything. He got to his feet glaring at
every single person in the room. Without another word, he spun around and was
slamming the door before he realised what he was doing.
“Wait, Yuri-” Mila’s voice was cut off by the door and Yuri stomped down the
hallway with his heart beating faster than it had for any competition.
Fuck.
 
He took out his phone to complain to Otabek and had already sent off the first
text  before he remembered that he was with his own friends. Yuri sighed,
pulling his knees to his chest, still hating that his hands were shaking and he
felt like he was going to vomit. God, he was already treated like a child
enough as it was, and now they had extra fodder. Why was it even such a big
deal? It wasn’t like he had free time to do anything like that anyway. His life
consisted of skating and ballet; he didn’t have time to go out or to even make
friends or to fucking find someone that would... He killed the thought, his
stomach bubbling and tightening. He pressed his forehead to his knees. He
wasn’t a baby, he wasn’t innocent, screw them. They didn’t know him
His message tone made him startle, but he grabbed his phone, sighing in relief
when Otabek’s name flashed on his screen.
Beka:
Room 623
 I’m about ready to head out
Yuri dove for his shoes, replying that he was on his way.
The room had a weird smell to it, and Yuri narrowed his eyes as he took in the
cheerful Kazakhstani team, some guy in a team Italy jacket, and a few others
that looked European. There were empty, cellophane bags littered all over the
beds and bits and pieces of foil and plastic wrap.
“What,” he began but Otabek was already halfway out the door, telling everyone
goodbye. “What were you guys doing?”
Otabek grinned, his eyes were half closed, and he wrapped an arm around Yuri’s
shoulders as he lead him down the hallway, in the exact opposite direction of
the elevator. “We just had a few edibles.”
Yuri’s head shot around. Where in the hell did he keep on getting those from?
God, was he a fucking accomplice now that he knew? His stomach actually hurt.
If he got arrested, Yakov would kill him, and his grandpa would dig up his body
to kill him again. Otabek had a small smile on his face, just one side of his
mouth was higher than the other, but he was working his fingers into Yuri’s
bicep like Potya kneading her bed. It made his skin tingle even through the
layers of his shirt and jacket.
“Isn't  that like bad for you?” he muttered.
Otabek shook his head. “That’s just government propaganda.”
Yuri scoffed, turning them both around to the elevator. He had never seen
Otabek look more confused.
They ended up at the pool, the scent of chlorine overpowering, but the air was
warm and slightly humid, so Yuri ended up taking off his hoodie and rolling up
his pants to swish his legs in the water as teal and yellow light shone up from
the submerged bulbs. Otabek sat on a chair behind him, hunched over his knees,
eyes fixed on the ripples Yuri was making. Biting his lip to hide a smile, Yuri
looked over his shoulder at him; he looked like a puppy, fixated on a ball or
something.
“So, what’s wrong?” Otabek asked after a few moments of silence.
Yuri shrugged, leaning back on his hands. The bubbling started in his stomach
again. “Nothing really,” he sighed.
“Yura.” He sounded like he was scolding him.
“It’s just that, I don't know. I went out with Mila tonight and we ended up
playing truth or dare.”
Otabek hissed then sighed shaking his head. “And everyone was drunk right?”
“Yeah. And Phichit asked - well they found out I was...” he didn’t know why he
looked around to see if they were still alone. “I was a virgin.” He took a deep
breath, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “They all acted like I was still
a baby and that shit. I’m not, I’m just...” he trailed off, feeling himself
getting angry all over again.
Otabek was suddenly behind him, pressing their back together. He craned his
neck backwards, over Yuri’s shoulder. “How much sex you’ve had isn’t a measure
of anything, you know that right?”
Yuri pushed against his back to keep from nearly being folded in half. “Yeah,
but like they’ve all done, so much and I haven’t even… you know.” Otabek
hummed. Yuri felt that he should continue; he needed to explain himself. “Like,
I don’t know. Everyone is so obsessed with sex. I was going through some
comments on the picture I posted earlier today-”
“Congratulations, by the way. Did I tell you that already?”
“Yeah. I think I deleted like three comments from people saying how hot I was.”
“ Three ?”
“I don’t get it. Like people keep on saying how fucking hot I am, but then
somehow I’m still a dumb baby.”
Otabek sighed, his back expanding with his breath. “Then just ignore them. What
they think doesn’t matter.”
Yuri bit his lip as his throat began to tighten. “But I can’t.” Otabek reached
back for his hand, and squeezed it lightly. “Everyone’s always on about sex and
shit and I… well.” He held his breath. “I don’t feel like I’m ready, but then
tonight everyone else had already done so much at my age, and like I don’t
know. Am I missing something?”
“No,” Otabek said softly. “Really, don’t worry about it.”
How ? They were both silent for a while. Yuri watched the water ripple around
his legs, wishing that he had just told Mila ‘no’.
“Did, uh,” Otabek cleared his throat. “Did my comment on your picture from the
Olympics bother you?”
Yuri had to think for a moment. Right, the payment thing. He honestly wouldn’t
have realised that there was a secondary meaning until Mila and Bal - was it? -
had commented. He tilted his head back, bumping into Otabek’s; his undercut
tickled the back of his head.
“No, not really. I’m more annoyed that people keep on asking if we’re dating or
fuckong or whatever.”
Otabek snorted loudly. “Yeah, there’s that. I, uh... Yeah, it’s annoying.”
“Like we’re just friends. I don’t see what’s the problem with that.”
“There isn't. It’s just people being asses, and having nothing better to do.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He squeezed his hand again. “Just try to ignore it.”
Yuri bit his lip, wondering why his stomach was moving the same way as the pool
water.
Chapter End Notes
     This fic will be updated every other week so the next update will be
     on March 10th - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on
     my Tumblr :)
***** Part II - Almaty *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“I’m retiring,” Viktor announced, sitting down next to Katsudon, his voice was
almost drowned out by the children screaming and slamming hockey sticks on the
ice. He waved his arm, still wrapped in a bright purple cast, to get everyone’s
attention. He’d been milking it for all it was worth and Yuri wondered how
Katsudon hadn’t stabbed him yet; fracturing his wrist had apparently made him
forget how to do simple things like make the bed, do dishes, or clean up his
clothes. Yuri reluctantly looked away from the group of kids stumbling around
on the ice, a sinking feeling blooming in his stomach.
“What?” Yakov’s head swiveled towards them, and Mila and Georgi fell silent.
“Yeah,” he sighed softly, leaning back into the plastic chair and slinging his
good arm around Katsudon’s shoulders. Yuri turned in his seat to face them.
Katsudon was staring at his lap, wringing his hands and biting his lip. Okay,
Viktor was being serious then. Yuri clenched his jaw, looking between the two
of them. “I’ve been thinking about it since my injury, things like this put
everything into perspective, you know-”
“You fractured your wrist not your skull,” Mila called, rolling her eyes, but
she and Georgi sat down in the row in front of them, sitting backwards in the
seats.
“It’s the same thing-”
“Oh my god, it is not.”
Viktor pouted for a second before he flipped back to serious and glanced to
Yakov. “I think I pulled myself too thin this season, trying both to compete
and coach.” Katsudon’s fingers dug into his thighs, making indents in his
pants, and Viktor began rubbing his shoulder. Had they talked about this
already?
Yakov hummed. “I could have told you that. I did tell you that.”
“So you fell because you were tired?” Mila teased.
Viktor tilted his head to the side. “I think I saw a fall compilation with your
name on it last night.”
She stuck out her tongue at him, and Gerogi elbowed her in the ribs.
“ Anyway ,” Viktor huffed. “I think, it’s time. I had a good season, I would
have liked to have won at Worlds, but I’m happy that my love got the gold
instead.” He pecked Katsudon on the temple and he turned almost fluorescent
red. Yuri gagged.
“Get on with it,” he grumbled. “Are you leaving or not?”
“No, I’m going to coach full-time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Yakov hummed again. “That’s unexpectedly smart of you. Did Yuuri suggest it?”
Viktor held his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “We decided on this  together
.”
Katsudon finally looked up. His face was absolutely miserable. Yuri rolled his
eyes, did he think he was taking Viktor from the world again? God, how self-
centered was he? “We, uh, we did speak about it.” He began, his Russian almost
indecipherable. “The coaching was too much. So it was either I found someone
else, or... or he retired.”
“I wouldn’t allow anyone else to coach the love of my life.”
“Viktor…” Katsudon sighed, going red again. “Don’t worry, Yakov I’ve already
scheduled a press conference to make the official announcement. And I’ve
started on Yuuri’s routines for next season.”
Yakov sighed, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. “Good.”
Yuri blinked. So this was really it. Viktor was leaving. He scoffed, throwing
his legs onto the seat in front of him and stretching his arms above his head.
It was bound to come sooner or later he was like fifty anyway. But it was...
weird. Like, he really couldn’t imagine coming to the rink and not see Viktor
warming up. “Finally,” he spat. “I could hear your joints cracking every time
you got on the ice, old man.”
Viktor turned to him. “When did you last get your hearing checked? That sounds
scary, Yurochka.”
“Sounds like you’re actually serious this time,” Yakov leaned forward, bracing
his forearms against his knees.
“I was serious the last time, but I changed my mind.”
“And you won’t change your mind this time?”
Viktor reach across to Katsudon’s lap to cover his hands. “No, my new goal is
to make sure Yuuri breaks all of my records!”
“You guys are disgusting,” Yuri grumbled. “Are we done yet? Can I leave?”
Yakov actually began to chuckle. Viktor grinned, closing his eyes briefly. “And
It also gives me more time to plan the wedding!”
Katsudon winced, his cheeks getting redder. “Please don’t tell the press that.”
“Why not?”
Yuri couldn’t shake the buzzing in his stomach as he cleaned out his locker.
Viktor’s news had his head spinning. He was actually retiring to coach
Katsudon. Honestly, Yuri had seen that coming; it wasn’t a surprise. His fall
at Worlds had scared everyone, and in true Viktor-fashion had called himself an
ambulance as soon as he finished his routine. But now that he was actually
retiring it felt  wrong . Yuri tossed a box of protein bars into his bag and
gathered up some old wrappers. Viktor wasn’t supposed to stop. He hadn’t even
beaten him yet. Breaking records didn’t mean anything if he was t there to
actually feel it.
“Hey, Yurochka,” Mila poked her head into the locker room. “You almost done? I
need to talk to you.”
He shook out a jacket that had been lost at the back of his locker for the
entire season. “Yeah. Almost.”
She came in and sat down on the bench, unashamed that this was the male locker
room.
“So.” She crossed her legs. “That night at Worlds...“ The spot between Yuri’s
shoulder blades began to itch. “You know none of us meant any of it. We were
just teasing.”
“I don’t see why that was something to tease me about.” He turned away, bending
down to zip up his bag.
“Are you really a virgin, though?”
Yuri swallowed, his face heating up. “Yeah, and?”
“I thought… wait, didn’t you hook up with that Canadian girl at the GPF?”
“We didn’t do anything.” His throat felt like it was squeezing shut.
“Why not?”
“Does it fucking matter? I didn’t want to.”
There was a beat of silence. “Yuri, are you scared?”
“No!” He spun around, flinging the side of his arm into the locker next to him.
“I just don’t want to. Is that a fucking crime? Why do you even care so much?
Who cares who’s sticking their dick in who! I don’t get your fascination with
something so stupid. God!”
“Hey, I’m not-“
“I’m not a baby for fuck’s sake! Just fucking leave me alone about it!”
Mila held up her hands in surrender. “Okay. Look, Yuri, all I’m saying is, it’s
not a big deal; maybe you just haven’t found the right person. It’s actually
kind of sweet that you’re waiting-”
“That’s not even the point!” She had missed it entirely. He grabbed his bag and
stomped over to the door, cheeks flaming almost as hot as they had when he’d
left the hotel room at Worlds.
 
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Otabek asked as soon as the FaceTime video connected.
Yuri scowled at him, giving up on the following the waterfall braid tutorial on
YouTube and let his hands fall to his lap. “Can’t get this dumb braid.”
Otabek tilted his head to the side, tugging lightly at the cord of his
headphones. “And the real reason?”
Yuri stared at him. How did he do that? He sighed, looking around his room for
Potya. Ugh, she was probably with Lilia, traitor. “Shitty day. Viktor is
retiring for real this time.”
“He is?”
“Yeah. He wants to coach Katsudon full-time.”
“That makes sense.”
“Gerogi and Mila want to plan a surprise party for him.”
He nodded. “He’d like that.”
They fell into silence. Otabek staring at something on his screen, and
occasionally typing something out. Yuri bit his lip, curling his hands around
his ankles. Maybe he should tell him. He always had an answer for everything
anyway. He didn’t seem to mind the venting either.
“Hey, Beka?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you, uh, remember at Worlds what we talked about by the pool?”
He hesitated for a second and Yuri nearly told him to forget it. But he nodded
slowly, eyebrows dipping into a frown. “Yeah.”
He took a deep breath. “I guess Mila was apologising in her own way, but like.
I don’t know. She was all like maybe I haven’t found the right person yet and
that crap.” He bent his legs, pressing the soles of his feet flat together, and
arching his back. “But, I… I - it’s so… weird. I like have no time, it’s just
training and ballet, and like I barely have time to breathe. I don’t have time
to make friends or hook up, like I honestly never really even thought about it
this much before. I thought I didn’t have the time, but it turns out that I
actually did?” he stuck his fingers into the gaps between his toes, finding a
hole in his sock. “Everyone else has, like, these extra lives where they do all
these  things , and I’m just… me. I don’t know. Maybe I am just a baby.”
Otabek was biting the inside of his cheek, remaining silent for a moment. Fuck,
maybe he had said too much. Who said that he wanted to hear all of that, or
needed an isecure brat whining to them about something so dumb. His cheeks were
steaming and he looked down at his feet as his throat stung with tightness.
 “Well,” Otabek said at length. “Do you  feel  ready? I think that’s the most
important question.”
Yuri shrugged, clearing his throat. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know
anything.”
“Don’t say that, Yura. I mean this stuff is kind of weird-”
“ You’re  not a virgin,” he said, looking up, knowing that he was probably
glowing red.
“What?” He blinked, stunned slightly, before he caught himself and cleared his
throat, scratching the side of his neck. “No. Uh… no.”
Yuri’s stomach began to tighten and he squeezed his big toe. Of course he
wasn’t; it was literally just him. “When… uh…” Wait, was that private?
Otabek rubbed the back of his neck then breathed out heavily through his nose.
“You don’t have to answer that. Sorry.
“No, it’s fine. I mean, I’m not ashamed of it. It was when I was in America, I
was fifteen… I - yeah it was a year after I presented. Uh yeah. I was kind of
drunk, I don’t really… I barely remember the girl actually.” Oh, he definitely
felt sick now.  Fifteen ? He had been training for his senior debut on his
fifteenth birthday. “It wasn’t anything special, it was a some house party-
someone's parents were out of town or something, and we went up to one of the
bedrooms and locked the door.” He finished with a shrug.
Oh. Yuri felt short of breath. Yeah, he was definitely missing something.
Literally everyone had done something, and he’d been trapped in this fucking
bubble. And how could Otabek be telling him not to worry about it? He should be
worrying about it. How the hell had he fallen so far behind everyone else? It
was like they had collectively decided not to include him.
“Uh, Yura, it’s really not that important. I know lots of people who have
decided to wait until marriage.”
Yuri bit his lip. But he hadn’t decided anything; it had just happened like
this. He shook his head.
“Don't’ let it bother you, really.”
He felt dizzy and short of breath, while his cheeks got steadily hotter.  “When
you figure out how to do that, let me know,” he spat, looking away.
“Yu-”
There was a knock on his door and he spun around just as Lilia cracked it open.
“Yuroch-” she paused when the door caught the edge of Yuri’s gym bag. “Look at
the state of this room. Yuri, this is unacceptable.”
He grumbled, shoving down all the swirling emotions and gave Otabek an
apologetic wince. “It’s  my  room.” he shuffled along his mattress, swinging
his legs to the floor. He ignored the crinkle of a some sort of food wrapper as
he stepped on it.
Lilia strode through the door, eyes narrowing as she examined everything from
the old cups of tea on his desk to the clothes and food wrappers on the floor
and his open closet, spilling over with piles of rumpled clothes. “Is that your
suitcase from  Worlds ?”
He glanced to the open suitcase near his closet. He’d been unpacking as he
needed the clothes. Otabek was snickering softly, Yuri glared at him.
“Yuri Plisetsky,” Lilia snapped. “This is disgusting.” He bit the inside of his
cheek, shying away from what he knew was going to be a lecture. “You will have
this room cleaned spotlessly before I get back from Paris.”
He scowled at her. “But-”
“ Or  you will be cleaning the  entire  apartment until it sparkles.” He gulped
as she glared at him. “My taxi is outside. Make sure you lock up properly
before you leave for Viktor’s.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She raised an eyebrow sharply and Yuri sat up straight on instinct. “Be safe,
Yurochka. I want you to get there before nightfall.”
He sighed through his nose. “Yeah. Safe flight, and enjoy your trip.”
She nodded at him, possibly giving him a ghost of a smile. Otabek was chuckling
behind his palm when she left.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything. But she has a point; you’re a slob.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well sorry. Not everyone’s room can look like a magazine
spread.”
“When was the last time you made your bed?”
“Why the fuck would I make my bed, when I mess it up every night?”
Otabek sighed heavily. “Why am I friends with you?”
Yuri grinned. “Because of my warm and cheerful personality.”
Otabek snorted, then covered his face as he nearly curled over laughing. Yuri
watched, his grin widening until he was chuckling along.
It had taken Yuri nearly an hour to coax Potya into her carrier. By the time
he’d packed his bag, and gotten all of Potya’s stuff, the sun had already set.
He clicked his tongue, texting Viktor that he’d be late. It was a thirty minute
train ride from Lilia’s apartment to Viktor’s, but they’d be expecting him at
around seven; it was six fifty now. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t taken the
train at night before, and this time wouldn’t be any different. Plus, if he
kept his hood up, and hid behind his hair it would be impossible to tell who he
was.
Lilia, especially, had been a bit paranoid about him being by himself since he
had opened the letter he had got at PyeongChang. He’d forgotten that he had
stuffed it into his bag so Viktor wouldn’t find it, and had found it a few days
after everyone had gotten back to Saint Petersburg. It had turned out to be a
blown up photograph of him taken at the PyeongChang airport. It was blurry and
shot from behind, but Yuri’s stomach had churned until he thought he was going
to vomit. The stalker had been in the same city as him, and pretty close too
from the looks of it.
But that had been in February and March was almost over, and he hadn’t gotten
any more packages or letters. He could handle one train ride in the dark.
 
So, either Viktor had forgotten that he was coming over that night, or the
dumbass had locked him out on purposed. He kicked the door after jiggling the
handle didn’t work.
“Viktor!” he yelled, “Viktor! Let me in!”
There was a loud thud from the other side before he heard Viktor call out, “One
minute, Yurochka!”
He grumbled, crossing his legs at the ankle. This idiot. The door swung open a
few seconds later to a ruffled looking Viktor. Yuri narrowed his eyes, pushing
his way inside.
“I thought you’d be later,” Viktor said, sounding slightly winded as he
scratched the back of his head, messing up his hair more. Yuri grunted bending,
down to free Potya from her carrier. She grumbled and slunk deeper into the
cage; Yuri let her be, wondering where Makkachin was. He’d normally be sticking
his nose right in. He had learnt quickly not to mess with Potya, but he still
got excited whenever Yuri brought her over.
“I texted you.”
He threw down his bag next to the coffee table glancing around the room. It was
a bit dark in here, only the living room light was on. He rolled his eyes,
flopping down on the couch; Viktor had probably been napping. He also needed to
take out the trash again; the apartment smelt weird.
“Were you sleeping?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“The couch cushions are on the floor.”
“Oh, yeah I -”
“Hey, Yuri,” Katsudon appeared from the bathroom with flushed cheeks and hair
as messed up as Viktor’s. Viktor made a soft strangled noise at the back of his
throat, and Katsudon’s eyes widened.
Yuri stared, eyes darting between the two of them. Wait, Vitkor’s shirt was
inside out. “Oh my God!” He sprang up from the couch, getting as much distance
from it as he could. “No! No no no no no! You guys  knew  I was coming over!”
His insides were squirming at the thought of, no. Nope. He was not fucking
thinking about that.
Katsudon’s face turned redder and he winced.
Viktor cocked his head, tugging lightly at a lock of hair. “Well…”
“On the couch? I have to sleep there!”
There was a pitiful cry from the bedroom and scrabbling against the door.
That’s  where Makkachin was. Katsudon sighed softly going over to let him out.
Yuri watched as he bounded over, jumping up and trying to lick his face. He
pushed him down, scratching behind his ear. “You two are disgusting. Open a
window at least, fuck.”
Katsudon was biting his lip, turning tomato red. Viktor wrapped an arm around
his waist, pecking the side of his cheek. Yuri grumbled, marching to the
dinning table hoping that the kitchen was safe; his stomach was still gurgling.
He didn’t know how he was supposed to spend two weeks with them and hold onto
his sanity.
 
It wasn’t Yuri’s fault that he felt antsy all morning, not after what had
happened on his Instagram last night. Viktor and Katsudon had taken him out to
some super fancy restaurant last night. He’d just worn slacks and a blouse, a
sheer white thing that buttoned up to a loose, floppy collar, but he had taken
a photo of himself with it half undone, bending over slightly to cover up the
hem of his underwear. His makeup was done, but his hair wasn’t, and he was kind
of procrastinating in finishing up, so he wrote a caption about trying to see
how long it would take Viktor and Yuuri to come get him. It was funny, right?
Viktor has commented that if he didn’t get out of the bathroom right now, he
would drag him to the restaurant  just like that.
But then he’d gotten a comment from some random that had almost ruined the
entire night.
Escharotic:  looking so sexy like that, just wish it was my shirt you were
wearing instead ;)
He wasn’t trying to be sexy. And his stomach quivered as he deleted the comment
and closed Instagram. He would give it Katsudon, however, for trying his best
to keep him occupied at dinner.
The guy had come back later, asking why he had deleted his comment.  And Yuri
had to sit up, flipping on the lamp next to the couch, not knowing why his
fingers were shaking as he held his phone.
yuri-plisetsky: it was inappropriate and I didn’t like it.
Escharotic:  it was the truth tho. You’re a damn fine omega
Yuri took in a deep breath through his nose. His mouth was dry all of a sudden
and his chest felt tight. How did he even know? He would have had to research
that. his spine tingled at the thought of this weirdo creeping all his profiles
or even going to the ISU website - that's where his secondary gender was posted
for everyone to look at. 
yuri-plisetsky: thanks but wasn’t looking for compliments.
Was it even a compliment? It didn’t feel like it. His stomach shouldn’t be
cramping like this if it was, right?
Escharotic:  I’m just saying. I like calling facts and you’re so fuckin hot the
things I would do to you…
Okay that wasn’t good. He swallowed, tapping on the comment to delete it. But
another one popped up under his thumb.
Escharotic:  You ever taken an alpha's knot? I would give mine to you in a
second.
What the fuck? He held his breath as he deleted both comments and locked his
phone, burying it under his pillow. His heart was racing and he was sweating.
What the actual fuck? Who said things like that? What the hell? God, why was it
hard to breathe right now? He stood up, bracing himself on the armrest of the
couch before shuffling to the bathroom holding his stomach. He was going to be
sick.
Sitting down on the toilet seat, he took a few even breaths. Okay, he raked a
hand through his hair, pushing it from his face. Okay, it was just some douche.
It would take a special kind of person to just say something like that. He
didn’t even know him. Why the hell would he want to fuck him? And there was
nothing sexual about his picture, it was funny. Ugh, he rubbed his hands up and
down his biceps, he’d block the guy and just forget about it.
He stood up, drank a few mouthfuls of water directly from the faucet and
splashed some onto his face. Yeah, he was fine. Just another story to tell
Otabek. But when he retrieved his phone from under his pillow there was a DM
from the same guy.
It was with a sort of morbid, dreadful curiosity that he opened it. It took him
awhile to figure out what he was looking at the picture was kind of blurry,
with poor lighting, but once it clicked, something from deep within him nearly
forced him to vomit. He covered his mouth just in case, his stomach had gone so
tight that it actually felt like a heat cramp. But he was unable to force
himself to look away. He was staring at a dick. An alpha's dick, already
swelling with a knot.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
First it was the messed up stalker saying they wanted to breed him, now this
guy saying he wanted to fuck him. It was disgusting. So disgusting. And he
hadn’t even done anything, fuck; he had even presented late, so what was
everyone’s deal? He ended up deleting the DM and blocking the guy. But the
picture was already burnt into the inside of his eyelids. He didn’t get much
sleep, tossing on the couch, changing sides every hour. He came closer to
throwing up with each motion. Eventually, he came back to the picture he posted
and deleted that as well, holding his breath and keeping it in until his chest
began to burn.
It felt like he had only gotten ten minutes of sleep when Viktor and Katsudon
wandered out from their room and began clanking around the kitchen for
breakfast. He rolled off the couch cursing everything he could.
 
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me, love?” Viktor was a tone away
from whining. Yuri rolled his eyes staring at the television as he cuddled
Potya to his chest. Why was Viktor always so annoying?
Katsudon sighed softly, sinking into the couch next to Yuri. “It’s okay, I’m
sure you have a lot of catching up to do with your friend. I’ll be fine here.”
He hesitated slightly, before crossing the room to stand in front of the couch.
“Okay, well call if you need anything.”  Yuri rolled his eyes again, sinking
his chin into Potya’s fur. Viktor bent over, catching Katsudon’s chin with his
thumb and index finger. He stroked it lightly, slowly closing the distance
between their faces, and before Yuri could even protest anything they were
kissing.
Yuri gagged, tightening his hold around Potya. She slumped against his chest,
purring loudly. “Did you guys forget I’m still here?” he growled, scooting over
to the opposite side of the chair. Yuri couldn’t count how many times he caught
them kissing, or making out, and at first they had seemed apologetic but now
they didn’t care. It always made his stomach jump slightly, and he would try to
give them space. But today, he was done. Done with everything that had to do
with love or sex or dumb shit like that. He kicked Viktor in the thigh.  
Viktor answered by catching his ankle and shoving it away. He then pulled away
from Katsudon slightly before ending the kiss completely with a swift peck to
his lips. Yuri growled. “I should be back before four.” Viktor straightened,
taking a step back.
Katsudon nodded, letting his hand linger against his forearm. Yuri squirmed,
fingers tight around Potya’s collar. “Oh, don’t forget to check on the
invitations.They said they had a few samples for us.”
Viktor’s face lit up. “Of course, love.” He pecked his cheek again with a loud
smack.
“Oh my God, just leave already,” Yuri spat.
They both chuckled and Viktor ruffled Yuri’s hair as he passed. He gave
Makkachin a scratch behind the ear when he followed him. He winked and blew a
kiss at them slipping through the door.
“I hate you so much!” Yuri yelled, before the door swung shut with a click.
Katsudon chuckled. “Watch this.” He pointed at the door counting down from
five.
The door handle jingled a few seconds later followed by a soft knock. “Yuuri,
love?” Viktor called.
“Coming, Vitya,” he sighed in amusement, hopping up from the couch and picking
up a set of keys and a wallet from a glass bowl on the edge of the breakfast
bar. Makkachin weaved between his legs, tail wagging into a blurr. He handed
Viktor his keys with a short peck on the lips then gently shoved him back
through the door.
“I honestly wonder how he lived on his own for so long and didn’t accidentally
kill himself,” Katsudon said with a small smile. Yuri rolled his eyes, but that
really was a mystery. “So, any plans today?”
Yuri shrugged as Katsudon flopped back down next to him. “Great, you can help
me look through some venues for the wedding.”
Yuri ground his teeth together; his molars scraped loudly against one another.
And suddenly his chest was shaking in angry heat. “I don’t want to help you
with your stupid wedding,” he spat.
Katsudon blinked, tilting his head to the side. He looked at Yuri with a slight
frown despite his eyes remaining soft. “Are you okay? You’ve been grounchy for
the entire morn-”
“I don’t get why everyone is so obsessed with all this love and sex bullshit!”
Yuri yelled, sitting up and letting Potya slide down to his lap. She grumbled
before jumping down onto the floor to find a less mobile napping spot, but
Makkachin spotted her and nearly headbutted her in his excitement. “Everywhere
I turn it’s some  crap , and you two are so fucking disgusting, and-”
“Hey,” Katsudon cut him off, voice sharp. Yuri swallowed, realising that he was
breathing heavily. Okay, that had been a bit harsh. “Okay, what happened? You
haven’t blown up at me like that in a long while.” Yuri took a deep breath,
falling sideways against the arm rest. “Love and sex bullshit? Yuri?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s nothing.” There was no way in hell he was
going to talk about that with Katsudon.
“It’s not nothing.” His voice was still sharp. “Yuri, did something happen to
you?”
He clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut. “No!” he paused. “Well not like
that.” He swallowed, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms
around them. “I don’t know.”
“Hey,” Katsudon mumbled. “You can tell me anything. I know we’re not as close
as you and Viktor, but I promise-”
“I’m not close with that old man.”
“Oh,  right . Sorry. But if anything’s troubling you-”
“I  know .” He sighed, glaring at a the frayed edge of the bandage wrapped
around his middle toe. Maybe, though. Katsudon was an omega like him, maybe he
did get guys or girls calling him out or making rude comments. “Have you ever…”
he paused shaking his head. “Have you ever gotten like comments because you
were an omega?”
Katsudon paused, before sighing sadly and resting a hand to Yuri’s shoulder.
“Comments that criticise and put everything you do into a sexual situation?
Yeah.” Yuri swallowed, turning to face him. “People can be disgusting,
especially online and in the media. I wish I could give you better advice than
to just ignore it.” He shook his head, an angry spark igniting behind his eyes.
“People are sexist assholes and from the moment you realise you're an omega it
gets even more difficult.” Yuri bit his lip. “Yeah, I’ve had people be
absolutely disgusting, and I don’t even post that much, I’m not even a  pretty
omega.” What? Yuri scowled. Well,  that  was bullshit. “And they still come
after me sometimes.”
“Does it make you feel, like… I don’t know...”
“Violated? Uncomfortable? Disgusted? Yeah.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered, tugging at his little toe. “I didn’t ask
for them to make those comments.”
“No, no one does.”
“The picture I posted last night before we went out. I thought it was okay, but
some guy was all like he wanted me in his shirt and asked if me to take his
knot. Then he sent me picture of his dick.”
Katsudon hissed. “Did you report him?”
“I blocked him. Like ever since I presented it's been shit like this.” He
curled his fingers around his foot. “From like random people and people I know-
”
“What? Who?”
Yuri shrugged. “Mila, Emil and Michele… your friend, Phi.. chit?”
Katsudon’s face was pale. “ Phichit ?”
“Yeah, we were playing truth or dare and he asked me whether or not Otabek and
I were… uh, fucking. We’re  not , if you were even thinking-”
“I wasn’t.”
“Yeah. Then they all freaked out when I said I hadn’t…” he swallowed. “That I’m
a virgin.” he screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the surprised gasp or comment
in disbelief.
“Oh. They freaked out?”
Yuri cracked open an eye, turning to face him. “Yeah, kind of. They called me a
baby.”
“ Phichit , called you a baby?”
“Not him. I don’t know he just seemed kind of shocked. But Mila and the others
went on about it. I don’t know why it’s anyone’s business.”
“It  isn’t . No one should ever make fun of you for something like that. Mila
should know better. And  Phichit , I’m going to have a long talk with him.”
Yuri blinked at the firmness of his voice and his shoulders relaxed. Okay,
finally someone understood. “I mean, like I haven’t even thought about it so
much before. I don’t see the big deal about it.” Katsudon nodded. “Like
everyone’s so obsessed with sex and that’s all they can talk about.”
“ You  don’t feel like this, though?”
“Fuck no!” He paused. “Should I?”
“No.”
The way he said it had Yuri’s stomach bubbling softly and he bit his bottom
lip. “Is there something wrong with me? I’m seventeen and like I’ve never even
been in a relationship, but like Mila or Otabek had already… am I missing
something?”
“No. Everyone develops differently-”
“Yeah, that’s bullshit. It’s everyone but  me !”
Katsudon sighed roughly. “This is going to be a… long… Do you want some tea? It
usually helps.”
Yuri raised an eyebrow. Tea? What the fuck? “No. It’s too hot for tea.”
He almost looked insulted. “It’s never too hot for tea.”  He got up to start
the kettle and minutes later, through which Yuri was squirming uncomfortably on
the couch, unlocking his phone only to lock it back immediately after, was
setting a tray with two cups and a teapot on the coffee table. Yuri watched him
pick up one and blow away the steam before gingerly sipping.
“So,” Katsudon hummed, setting his cup back down. “You’ve never  thought  about
having sex before?”
Yuri’s cheeks heated instantly. “I guess. I mean, yeah. But like it’s not
important, right? I didn’t want to… ugh. I don’t know, it never came up like
this, and skating is so much more important. Fuck, there’s something wrong with
me, I know it.” He was going to throw up. Everything was moving too fast, he
was struggling to breathe too.
“Yuri, there’s nothing-”
“What if. Oh God, what if I need like therapy? I’ll have to take the season off
and, Yakov will force me to see a doctor and, and the press will be all over,
and Grandpa-”
Katsudon grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Yuri! It’s nothing like that!
You don’t need therapy, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“ How do you know ?”
He seemed to struggle with the words for a second. “Because I have experience…”
he suddenly switched to English. “In college, I had a friend who was asexual.
There was nothing wrong with him, he just didn’t respond to sex like everyone
else. And if you honestly didn’t… if you don’t think you ever felt the urge…
no, if you feel like you’re different from everyone else, maybe you should look
into it more.”
Yuri blinked. "Asexual?”
“There’s no yes or no answer, but if you… uh. Maybe trying reading up on it
online. I can’t really tell you  what you're thinking or how you’re feeling. It
might be worth a shot. Just, you’re not broken. Don’t ever think that.”
“Asexual?” he repeated. “Doesn’t that have something to do with like plants or
fungus?”
“What?”
“In biology?”
“Oh! No, not like that. People can be asexual. It just means you respond
different to sexual attraction and situations. You’ve never… in school or with
friends?”
Yuri sent him a blank stare. “I don’t have friends. And I haven’t been to a
real school since I was like ten.”
He pulled his mouth into a thin line, and moved so quickly that Yuri was nearly
winded when he yanked him into a tight hug.
“What the hell, Katsudon?”
“Nothing, nothing. It’s nothing.” He didn’t let go, and hugged him tighter.
Yuri’s windpipe was crushed against his shoulder. “Just, if you ever need any
help, or just want someone to talk to about this, I’m here.”
Yuri cleared his throat, trying to push him away. “Yeah, whatever. Let go of
me.” Otabek was a good listener too, but it was strange that it was Katsudon
who knew what he was talking about.
He let go after Makkachin started barking and jumped up onto the couch behind
him, resting his front paws against his shoulder and licking his neck. He
chuckled, reaching around to scratch the dog’s ears. “Seriously, I mean it.
Figuring out your sexuality can be tough, and I don’t ever want you to feel
like no one understands you or cares.”
Yuri licked his lips. “Are you? Asexual I mean.”
He shook his head slowly. “No, but I do know a bit about it. See if you can
read up about it a bit, then we’ll talk more if you think it makes a bit more
sense.” He smiled.
Yuri nodded, watching as Katsudon reached to the coffee table for his cup of
tea. They sat in silence for a while, Yuri stewing in all the new information
while Katsudon picked up his phone. “Uh, Yuuri?”
Katsudon’s head snapped towards him.
“Uh, thanks.”
Katsudon’s eyes went wide. He did a little jump and fumbled with his cup until
the tea sloshed over the sides and spilt onto his hands and lap. “Fuck! Uh, I
mean... ” He set the mug down on the floor shaking his hands and hissing.
“Sorry, um. You’re welcome.”
Yuri snickered. “So, you do know how to curse.”
Katsudon scoffed softly, a light blush rising on his cheeks. “So,  you  know
how to be nice.”

Chapter End Notes
     This is the start of how Yuri and Yuuri got to be such close friends
     :)
     I also started a drabble series based a little after 'Lay me Bare'
     (work #5 in this series), where Yuri keeps on sending Otabek sexy
     pictures to get a rise out of him. You can read them over on Tumblr
     I'll be using the tag WGAPdrabbles just to make things easier to
     search. Hope you guys enjoy!
     And here's aDeleted_Scene from this chapter.

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


     This fic will be updated every other week so the next update will be
     on March 24th - if something changes I'll let you guys know over on
     my Tumblr :)
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“What are you doing, Yurochka?” Lilia asked sharply, poking her head into his
room.
Yuri was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the entire contents of his closet
and trying to decide what to bring with him to Almaty. He was only going for
two weeks, but he had no clue what to bring. He knew it was going to be hot as
fuck, and there was no way only five pairs of shorts were going to be enough.
Also what if Otabek’s family was like super snobby? They were kind of rich
after all. That would mean he’d have to dress nice and couldn’t wear the same
thing twice. Ugh, why had he told Otabek he would come?
“That is not how you pack a suitcase.” Lilia peered over his shoulder. “And I
know you won’t think of ironing anything in Almaty; so fold them properly.”
He wrinkled his nose. “It’s fine.”
“No.” she folded her arms across his chest. “Pass them to me. Watching you pack
like that is going to give me a migraine.”
Yuri rolled his eyes. Okay, so folding wasn’t in his talent set. Sue him.
“Do you have Otabek’s number?” Lilia asked sitting down on the edge of the bed
after inspecting it thoroughly.
“Yes.” Yuri raised an eyebrow, handing her the pile of clothes he had tossed
into his suitcase. “I message him almost every day.”
“And his address?” she shook out the topmost shirt, wrinkling her nose and
began to fold it  properly .
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“Huh?”
“The address.”
“I don’t know it by heart. It’s in my phone.”
“Show me.”
Yuri narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe I have it?”
“I want you to be safe. Now show me where it is.”
“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled, taking the newly folded clothes she was handing
him.
“You’ve never been to Almaty before.”
“It can’t be worse than Moscow.”
“You haven’t lived in Moscow for a while.”
“I’m not  moving to Almaty .”
She paused to inspect one of his shirts, but Yuri knew her mind was elsewhere.
“Call me when you land.”
“Yeah.”
“And be  careful , Yurochka. I know how you get around that boy.”
What ? Yuri’s eyes went wide as he looked up to read her face. “What?”
She raised an eyebrow, before huffing in amusement. “Just keep a level head.”
He rolled his eyes, looking down into his lap, and picking at a loose thread on
the hem of his shirt. They were silent for a while as Yuri wracked his brain
trying to figure out what she meant by that.
“I don’t see your suppressants or birth control in there, Yurochka-”
Yuri’s ears started to steam immediately. “I haven’t packed that stuff yet!”
She sniffed, and he hunched over, pulling his hood over his head.
“Make sure you don’t forget.” She stood up, dusting off her lap. “If you end up
pregnant, your career will suffer-”
“Oh my god!” His voice came out high and scratchy. “That’s  not  going to
happen!”  
She sniffed. “ Be careful .”
Ugh. He’d talked more with Katsudon about being asexual. It had been a weird
month, but the two of them had ended up spending nights together talking and
just trying to figure everything out. He would never admit it aloud, but he was
glad that Katsudon had decided to move to Saint Petersburg; he would have been
lost without him.
They had watched a few documentaries while Viktor had to travel for a few weeks
for some sort of sponsorship function. Katsudon kept on poking him to stay
awake or paused the TV when he saw that Yuri was getting antsy from sitting
down for too long. They ended up spending an entire night just talking, and
that was the weirdest thing of it all. He was  Katsudon , the annoying and soft
crybaby, but who also was the best listener Yuri had ever met. He didn’t know
how he did it, but there was no sort of judgement or pitying on his face when
they hit the hard stuff. He always knew what to say that didn’t make him feel
like a child or clueless. The rising sun had taken them both by surprise, and
Katsudon had chuckled before ushering Yuri to bed with the excuse that he had
to pick up Viktor from the airport and he needed at least four hours of sleep
before he let himself drive.
Fucking Katsudon. Who would have guessed.
Things kind of made sense now; why he didn’t want to have sex, or why he hadn’t
really considered it to be part of his life before. It made sense why he felt
so delayed or left out when Mila, Viktor, Chris, or Georgi talked about their
latest one-night-stand or who they wanted to bang next. He didn’t want it, and
he probably would never want it. And, Katsudon had assured him, that was okay.
Everyone who was convinced that he was just a late bloomer and once he
presented he would get it, everyone who had called him a baby and had made fun
of him for never having a boyfriend or girlfriend before, e veryone who had
laughed at him for being a virgin, could go suck it. It still felt kind of
weird though, but a relieved sort of weird. Then Katsudon had literally bounced
up and down, getting Makkachin riled up, when Yuri had said the words aloud.
“I’m asexual.”
He had made a five different kinds of sushi to celebrate. Yuri vaguely
remembered telling him that he liked sushi once, but the kitchen had been
turned into a war-zone with rice everywhere and music blasting through
Katsudon’s tiny bluetooth speaker. Viktor was let into the loop when he walked
in on Katsudon singing into a massive knife, while Yuri danced along, trying to
get a few rice grains out of his hair and the bamboo mat Katsudon had used to
roll the sushi with. He seemed surprised and a bit confused at Yuri's
announcement, but after Katsudon glared at him he kept his mouth shut. Yuri
hadn’t told anyone else, though.
So, no Lilia, he wasn’t going to come back pregnant.
 
“I’m just going to apologise now,” Otabek grumbled, tapping his finger on the
steering wheel. Yuri didn’t think he’d ever been inside a car this expensive,
and he knew Range Rovers could get pretty pricey. This one still had the new
car smell. He was scared to sit down, like what if he scratched the leather
seats somehow?
“Why?” Yuri tilted his head, holding onto his knees. He still couldn’t believe
that he was here in Almaty with Otabek. He had slept for most of the flight,
and everything in the airport had been a weird mixture of Russian, what he
assumed was Kazakh, and even a few english words mixed in here and there. His
brain was still trying to catch up as he watched the city zoom past as Otabek
drove along the highway. So, this was Almaty, this was Otabek’s home.
Otabek glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, switching lanes  and
weaving between a few other cars so suddenly that Yuri nearly breathed out his
soul. The car now behind them honked angrily.
“Beka!” he screeched. “God, I just got here, I don’t want to die!”
Otabek chuckled softly. “Please, Yura. I know how to handle a car.”
He probably did, but still. “This is a fucking SUV not a sports car.”
“Please, this engine is a 557 horsepower supercharged V8. Some of the  sports
cars  here don’t even reach 510.”
Yuri’s eyes glazed over. “You’re such a nerd.” His sentence ended in a scream
when Otabek changed lanes again. Yuri didn’t know what the speed limit was
here, but he was sure Otabek had left it behind at the airport.
“I chose this car for a reason.” He grinned, eyes flickering up to the rearview
mirror.
Yuri was just praying that he didn’t hear any sirens. “This is  your  car?”
“No, it’s  technically  my mom’s, but I picked it cause I’d drive it when I’m
home.”
Yuri rolled his eyes. He knew Otabek had a thing for motorbikes, but he hadn’t
thought it would have extended to cars as well.
“You said you had to apologise for something?”
“Yeah, uh, we’re kind of having a family dinner tonight. Well not  everyone ,
just my brothers and maybe one of my sisters, and their kids. It might, no, it
will be a bit… hectic.”
Yuri blinked. “Oh, that’s fine.”
He huffed. “You won’t say that when you meet them.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How many siblings do you have?”
“I never told you?”
“Nope.”
“Four. Two brothers and two sisters. I’m the last-”
“Awww, baby Beka.”
He sent Yuri an annoyed grimace. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Yuri snorted. “Why?”
“Because Maalik, the one closest in age to me, is like thirteen years older
than me.”
“Oh my God. You were a surprise baby!” He turned his body to face him as much
as his seatbelt would let him.
Otabek’s cheeks were turning red and he was suddenly entirely focused on the
road. “Yura-”
“It’s okay. I was an accident too.”
Otabek exhaled roughly through his nose. “Yura, you can’t just… say that.”
“What?” Yuri shrugged. “I’m not ashamed of it. And it’s like a, uh, bonding
point. Something we have in common, right?”
Otabek chuckled until his shoulders began to shake. Yuri shuffled in his seat,
biting his lip to hold back a smile.
 
Twenty minutes later, Otabek had turned into a residential area, that was
littered with houses so big they looked like hotels. Yuri had tried not to look
surprised by the mansion Otabek drove up to. He failed; nearly pressing his
chest to the dashboard with his eyes wide and jaw slack.
“You live here?” he whispered. He had to be dreaming right?
“Uh, yeah.” Otabek answered, biting his lip.
 They drove past a security station and Otabek introduced him to the guard.
Then he drove up a long driveway with freaking lamp posts and hanging flower
baskets lined with a flowering hedge. The house - mansion - itself was only two
stories, but it was wide with huge glass windows, grey stone-work and white
window frames. The front door alone looked like it cost more than Grandpa’s
entire house. Yuri waited for him to pull up outside the door, or park in the
driveway, but he took a sharp right, driving around the side of the house, down
a ramp to a fucking underground garage.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grumbled, as a line of actual sports cars and
luxury SUVs came into view. “You know what just turn around, bring me back to
the airport.”
Otabek insisted on carrying his suitcase up a narrow flight of stairs. Yuri had
to hand it to him, he had nearly been overweight. His biceps bulged with
effort, though. He shouldered open a door to what Yuri could assume was an
actual foyer and he was suddenly staring through a glass door to a courtyard
with a fucking fountain. He swallowed. What the actual fuck? Was Otabek
secretly Kazakhstani royalty? Why was he so fucking rich?
“Beka.” He turned around, feeling his heartbeat through his t-shirt. “What the
hell-”
“Beka is that you?” A woman’s voice called loudly.
Otabek nudged Yuri’s suitcase to the side. “I’ll show you to your room later-”
“ You didn’t tell me you were fucking rich .” Yuri hissed.
Otabek’s cheeks turned red. “Must have slipped my mind.”
“Are you seri-”
“Otabek?”
“Yes, Ma, it’s me!” he yelled over his shoulder and Yuri jumped. Ma? His mom?
Oh God.  Why  was he so nervous? He wrapped an arm tightly around his stomach.
“Come.” Otabek gently grabbed his elbow; his fingers tickled. “Oh wait, shoes.”
Yuri looked down, honestly feeling like he was about to fall over. “Yura?”
He snapped to action, toeing off his sneakers. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.”
He lead Yuri through a living room that looked like it had never been used. The
couches were the kind with carved wooden feet - kind of antique but looked way
too new and clean. The floor was a shiny dark wood and all the furniture was
white and not a single thing was out of place. There were vases full of fresh
flowers that looked way too good to be fake, and although there weren’t as many
ornaments as Lilia had, he was still too scared to breathe too hard. From the
picture frames, and abstract art pieces, to the light curtains and clawfoot end
tables, everything looked easily breakable. The only bit of colour was a dark
red, black, and cream Turkish rug in the middle of the room, but that was so
clean he walked around it.
Otabek lead him around a corner and they brushed past a long dining table, with
more flowers and chairs with seats that matched the curtains and placemats. The
thick aroma of spices, onions, and simmering meat hit him in the face, but Yuri
didn’t get much time to even think about it before a woman with wavy, jet-black
hair and warm brown eyes like Otabek’s stepped into the room. She was thin,
small and dressed in a knee-length, blue dress and a bright, yellow apron.
“Hi Ma,” Otabek said, going over to give her a peck on the cheek. She was still
slightly taller than him; Yuri was definitely going to tease him about it
later, but right now his brain wasn’t quite working.
He stood frozen, especially since more people began to filter into the room. An
old woman with a rolling walker appeared out of nowhere, and a younger woman
with black, shoulder-length hair, carried a dish to the table. A man with a
grin and short, wavy hair popped out from behind Yuri and a version of Otabek
who had circular, wire-framed glasses, and greying hair followed shortly after.
He could hear his own heartbeat.
“And this must be Yuri?”
His attention snapped back to the woman - Otabek’s mom - who was staring at him
with a wide smile. He didn’t know whether to be scared or comforted. He chose
scared when everyone in the room zeroed in on him. “But you’re so beautiful!”
He blinked. Okay, he hadn’t been expecting  that . Beautiful? He had just spent
the last five hours on a plane; he could feel the grease layered on his
forehead and nose and the grime that gathered from stale airplane air and
running through airports with a fifteen pound bag on his back. He knew for a
fact that his eyeliner was smudged enough to make him look like he had a black
eye. “Uh, thank you.” Otabek rolled his eyes, stepping back over to him and
clamping a hand to his shoulder.
“The pictures Beka showed us of you don’t make you look half as pretty,” she
continued, stepping up to him as well. Was that a compliment? “Alma Altin,
Beka’s mother.” She held out her hand. Yuri was almost too scared to shake it.
Manners, Plisetsky; he could already picture his grandpa’s irritated glare.
“Uh, thank you for having me.”
“Oh, we’re more than happy to. Would you look at that hair.”
“Ma,” Otabek grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching his
shoulders. “Anyway, Yura, that’s my dad.” He guided Yuri into a half turn. The
older version of Otabek stepped forward to shake Yuri’s hand as well.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Yuri,” he said. His voice was surprisingly
quite, but firm. He could see where most of Otabek’s genes had come from.
Except his eyes. His dad’s eyes were light amber. And his height must have been
some sort of a throwback gene. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival the entire
week.”
Yuri smiled, unsure what to say, but Otabek pointed to the other man. “This is
 my brother, Maalik, my sister, Adil, and my grandmother.”
He smiled politely at all of them in turn. But then two more women popped out
of the kitchen, and Yuri wondered when it was going to end. Apparently, they
were Otabek’s brothers’ wives so that meant his other brother - and his  kids
- were around somewhere. Why was this family so big?  And  there was another
sister  and  her spouse and kid who hadn’t been able to make it. Otabek’s mom
had apologised, but Yuri was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that
everyone in the room was directly related. Was he sweating? He fanned himself
with his shirt collar; he was sure that he was sweating.
“Has Otabek showed you your room yet?” Otabek’s mother asked. “I’m sure you’d
like to freshen up a bit before dinner. We still have a few more things in the
oven.” Yuri glanced to the table which was already almost full with dishes. He
was trying his hardest not to stare, hoping his stomach would stay dormant.
“Uh, yes please.” He nearly jumped when he felt a hand against the small of his
back, but it was only Otabek guiding him away from the crowd. He leaned against
his side, thankful for the escape. He did feel gross, and now that Otabek’s
mother had pointed it out, all he wanted was a long, hot shower.
He watched Otabek’s brother clasp his shoulder, mutter something in Kazakh, and
grin deviously. Otabek rolled his eyes, sounding almost annoyed as he answered
in Kazakh as well.  Yuri couldn’t help but feel that they were talking about
him, especially with the way Otabek’s brother was looking at him. He glanced to
Otabek, surprised to see that his cheeks were slightly red.
“So, this is it,” Otabek said, opening his arms wide. The guest room - one of
the guest rooms - looked like a luxury hotel suite. He had a four-poster, king-
sized bed with enough pillows to outfit an orphanage. Heavy, grey, brocade
curtains covered an enormous window, which actually turned out to be a french
balcony, floor-to-ceiling glass doors with a thin, white metal railing running
across. He looked out over the darkening grounds before letting the curtain
fall back int place. He turned around still scanning the room. He had his own
vanity, a full-length mirror, and chest of drawers, along with a built-in
closet that took up nearly an entire wall. There was a vase of fresh flowers on
his night-stand, and a white, angora rug to the side of the bed. Plus,
everything smelled a bit like potpourri.
“Bathroom’s through there.” Otabek pointed to a closed door right next to the
vanity.  “If you want to shower now-”
“Holy shit, Altin, what are you, royalty?” Yuri crossed the room, sitting down
on the small, backless settee at the foot of the bed. Otabek’s cheeks turned
the slightest bit red. “What the hell?”
“It’s mostly old money,” he shrugged, joining him. “We own an oil company and
stuff.”
“I’m surprised you don’t travel anywhere with a bodyguard.”
He shrugged again, leaning against one of the armrests. “It’s not that big of a
deal.”
“Yes it is!” He tucked his legs under himself, knees pulling uncomfortably at
his tight jeans. He could never bring Otabek home to Moscow now. Not when he’d
have to give up his room for him, or ask him to share a bathroom with his
grandpa.
“It’s really not.”
“I feel so out of place…”
“Why?” He shuffled closer, raising an eyebrow.
Yuri unfolded his legs, bringing them up to his chest and winding his arms
around them. “ Why ? Grandpa and I weren’t exactly rolling around in money. I
mean, my mom would send cheques every so often, but then Grandpa got sick… if I
hadn’t gone professional who knows what would have happened to us.” He pressed
his forehead to his knees.
Otabek was silent for a few moments before he grabbed Yuri’s hand. “I… I didn’t
know.”
Yuri shrugged; his cheeks started to burn. They really were from two different
worlds. “Don’t really have to worry about that anymore. Not since sponsors and
shit.”
“I really should have given you some warning, huh?” Otabek asked sheepishly,
stroking Yuri’s knuckles.
“You think?” Yuri snapped, but there was no heat behind it. “Well, guess I
don't have to feel guilty why you buy me food any more.”
Otabek chuckled softly. “No, but really. Don’t feel out of place. I promise not
a single one of us is snobby, or care at all about, like, superficial things.
My dad made us all work for allowances and save up money ourselves if we wanted
to buy anything.”
“Really?”
 He squeezed Yuri’s thumb between his thumb and index finger. “I had to pay for
Yakov’s training camp, by volunteering for three weeks at an animal shelter.”
“ Really ?”
“I guess it’s been like that for a while. My Grandpa used to be even more
strict. I guess they didn’t want the family to end up with a bunch of lazy,
entitled assholes, sapping money from the company and turning the family name
to shit.”
Yuri snorted, leaning his head against his shoulder. “That’s cool. Weird, but
cool.”Of course the Altin’s would have been exceptions to the rule. They
probably had like five charitable organisations set up.
Otabek shrugged again. “I’m kinda glad for it, though. Trust me, I know what
assholes rich people can be.”
Yuri grinned, butting his side with his elbow. “Good. I was kinda scared that
I’d have to stop hanging out with you.”
“Then I’d just pay you to.”
Yuri punched his shoulder. “I hate you.”
Otabek chuckled and rubbing his arm.
 
The Altins really were a bunch of nice people. Otabek’s mom kept on insisting
that he take more food and everyone made sure to include him in their
conversations, stopping to translate things to Russian if they drifted into
Kazakh. Though, he was still happy to see that Otabek’s sister’s husband was of
Russian descent and was almost as pale as him. His name was Alisher, he’d been
born in Almaty, but he had blond-brown hair and light grey eyes. Yuri didn’t
feel that out of place, even if he had never been to Russia before. Otabek’s
eldest brother, Kerim, was just as soft spoken as Otabek and his father, but he
smiled way more. The younger brother was the loudest of everyone. Maalik, if
yuri repeated his name to himself enough times, he was bound to remember it.
Yuri was seated across from two young boys’ one who kept on stealing glances at
him and blushing and a smaller one who was more interested in his food than
anything else. They were Kerim’s children. He also had a daughter, but she was
with her mother on the other side of the table. He was almost sad when the
women began clearing up everyone’s empty plates.
“What did you think of them?” Otabek asked, as Yuri wondered around his
bedroom.
So  this  was what was on the other side of the FaceTime screen. Everything was
fucking white, from his bedside mat, to the sheets and curtains. A bookshelf
bisected his room, creating a sort of nook for his computer desk, where he had
two monitors - an iMac and something else that looked just as expensive, a
sound board, and some other music equipment. He also had a few small potted
plants on the bookshelf and his nightstand. He had his own bathroom, with a
shower wide enough to dance in and a balcony, although both of those were
shared with the room next door. Which was kind of weird, because, the only
people who lived in the house were Otabek, his parents and his grandmother. It
all seemed kind of excessive. He sat down on the edge of the bed, having to
jump slightly to even get on, and yanked one of his pillows to his stomach.
“I like them,” he announced. “I’m never going to remember everyone’s names,
though.”
Otabek grinned. “You’ll get it eventually.”
Yuri flopped onto his back, bouncing against the mattress. His stomach was so
full that he could barely breathe. Lilia would be so disappointed in him. He
rubbed his stomach with one hand, stretching the other over his head, grabbing
Otabek’s ankle when his fingers brushed against it.
“Hey, thanks for inviting me here,” he mumbled.
He felt Otabek’s fingers against his wrist. “I’m happy you could come.”
They fell into a comfortable silence as Yuri stroked Otabek’s ankle and he
stroked his wrist. He should have been tired from all the travel and his huge
meal, but his skin was buzzing, itching with the need to  do   something.
“Do you have anything planned for my time here?” he rolled onto his stomach,
pulling himself higher up on the bed.
Otabek waited for him to settle again before answering. “Yeah, we can do all
the fun tourist things. But I was going to introduce you to my friends
tomorrow. They all have some time between classes, we’ll meet them at my
cousin’s house and figure out things from there.”
“Okay.” he bit his lip. “What about now?”
“You’re not tired?”
He shook his head.
“Uh, what about a movie?”
“Sure.”
“You pick.” He grabbed a remote from his night stand, flicked on the television
mounted to the wall and pulled up Netflix.
They had just settled against the pillows, the comforter pulled up to their
waists and the lights off when Otabek’s door flew open.
“Dad,” Otabek whined, and Yuri blinked. He had never heard that tone of voice
from him before.
Otabek’s dad paused, peering at the two of them with narrowed eyes. Yuri’s
spine began to itch at the scrutiny. “What are you doing?”
“Watching a movie,” Otabek groused, still sounding unbelievably whiney. “Do you
need something?”
He blinked a few times then turned around. “No. Do you have training tomorrow?”
“No, I finished training three weeks ago.”
He hummed. “Okay, well don't stay up too late. Good night. You too, Yuri.” He
paused at the door, making to walk off but hesitating. “Keep this open.”
Yuri raised an eyebrow as Otabek sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why does he want us to keep the door open?” Yuri asked.
Otabek pushed his hair from his forehead, and even in the dim light of the
television Yuri could tell he was blushing. “So we don’t have sex.”
“ What ?” Yuri jumped backwards and would have fallen off the side of the bed
if Otabek hand lunged forward and grabbed him. He spluttered, his cheeks
definitely on fire. “ Why ?”
Otabek shurgged. “I don’t know. I guess we’re just horny teenagers who can’t
control ourselves.”
Yuri snorted. “Right.”
And that was another conversation he needed to have with Otabek.
 
Yuri was hesitant to follow Otabek up the stairs. He’d let them in with his own
key, but Yuri still felt like he was intruding. This house was a bit more
modern and minimalist than Otabek’s, but the Altins seem to have a thing for
white and neutral colours.
“I told them we’re here,” Otabek said leading Yuri down a sparsely decorated
hallway. He was already hearing loud voices from an open door and wiped his
sweaty palms on his jeans. God, why was he so nervous? It wasn’t like this was
his first time meeting people. God, he made himself sound like a shut-in.
This must have been Otabek’s cousin’s room, but he felt like he was walking
into a magazine. If it wasn’t for the people scattered around the room he would
have been looking for the lights and cameras. All of their heads swivelled
towards him and for the second time in two days, he felt like melting through
the floor.
“Hey guys.” Otabek said, guiding Yuri further into the room with a hand between
his shoulder blades. “This is Yuri.”
“Uh, hi.” Yuri waved, feeling his cheeks heat.
“So this is the famous Yuri Plisetsky. Beka talks about you non-stop; we were
wondering when he was going to drag you to Almaty.”
“Shut up, Bal,” Otabek grumbled.  This  was Bal.
“It’s the truth, though.” Yuri turned to the one that looked similar to Otabek
- it was something about the shape of his face and how his eyes were set. He
was sitting in a padded desk chair, but had swivelled it around when they
entered. That must have been his cousin. Isaac?
Otabek sighed as Yuri felt his blush deepen.
“You talk about me?”
“All the time,” Isaac said, smirking.
He turned back to Otabek. “Why? About what?”
“Mostly skating. Nothing too dangerous,” Isaac explained, getting up from his
seat. He crossed the room in a few quick steps and held out his hand. “Iska.
I’m Beka’s cousin, I know he hasn’t told you about any of us. That’s Bal,” he
pointed to the tall one with bulging biceps, and a ponytail. “Roza.” A girl
with perfect, dark, wavy hair, and leather shorts gave him a short wave from
her position sprawled across the bed. “And Camran.” Oh, there was a gangly
looking guy curled up in an armchair across from the bed. He had short dark
hair and wide brown eyes with eyelashes longer than Otabek’s, that, at the
moment, were sizing Yuri up and down. Yuri shoved his hands into his pockets,
looking away as his stomach began to churn more violently.
“So, what do you think of Almaty so far?” Roza asked, tilting her head to the
side. Holy shit, her cheek bones were highlighted to perfection. God, he was so
out of his league with these people.
“It, uh, seems nice. I only got here yesterday, though.” He tucked a lock of
hair behind his ear.
“We haven’t had the chance to go around yet,” Otabek mumbled.
“How long are you here for?” Iska asked.
“Two weeks.”
“Perfect, you’ll be here for  Summer Aura .”
“Huh?”
“It’s a really big party at one the best hotels in Almaty. The organizers rent
the pool floor and it’s free drinks all night. I got Beka a spot in the
entertainment line-up, so we all get free tickets. I’ll get one for you too.”
Bal snickered. “Yeah, what better introduction to Almaty is there than one of
the biggest parties of the summer?”
“Oh.” He suddenly felt breathless.
“You like parties right?” Iska asked, raising an eyebrow and Yuri could not get
over the family resemblance. It was like the entire country was full of
Otabeks.
“Uh yeah.”
Otabek nudged him softly. “He’s a dancer too.”
His face went even hotter. How was that possible? “Just ballet.”
“That’s cool,” Roza said, sitting up. “ I don’t think any of us could do what
you guys do on land. Much less on ice. On  blades .”
Otabek snickered softly. “No really, Yura, you should see them. The only one
who can actually do something is… Bal, surprisingly.”
“ Surprisingly ?” Bal narrowed his eyes at Otabek.
Otabek quirked an eyebrow, daring him to go on. Yuri nearly gapped at this
openly playful side to him. Of course he would have friends, that he’d probably
grown up with. Of course Yuri wouldn’t have been part of this life. Could he
even catch up? What was one year compared to like nineteen?
“Boys, behave,” Roza said, clapping her hands. “No fighting in front of the
guest.”
Yeah, a guest. That’s what he was. He swallowed, knowing now that this anxiety
wasn’t going to go away.
“Uh, where’s the bathroom?”
“Right through there,” Iska pointed to a door on the other side of the room. Of
course he would have his own bathroom.
The door had barely shut behind him when he heard Bal whisper-shout, “Did you
see his ass?” He paused, eyes going wide and he pressed his ear to the door.
“Holy shit, Beka, he’s  hot .” Yuri bit his lip, a strange fluffy feeling
bloomed in his chest.
“He’s also  seventeen ,” Otabek’s voice was gruff.
“Still hot.”
“You guys are disgusting,” a new voice spoke up.
“He’s much cuter in person.”
“You too, Iska?”
“Facts.”
Yuri swallowed, stepping away from the door and leaning against the marble sink
counter. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t going as bad as he had thought.
When he went back out into the room, after just taking a few minutes to
breathe, Otabek had moved to the bed and was lookint at something on Bal’s
phone. He patted the mattress next to him when he saw Yuri. he hesitated,
seeing that Camran had moved from his chair and that he’d have to sit next to
him.
It was no big deal, Plisetsky. Everyone was on his case to make new friends
anyway.
Camran shuffled away, still sizing Yuri up as he sat down. Okay, this was the
definition of uncomfortable. He could feel the heat from his stare. Did he not
like him or something? He hadn’t really said or done anything. Biting his lip,
he pulled out his phone and tapped open the messaging app. He picked his most
recent chat and typed out ‘help’ before reading who he had sent it too.
Katsudon:
 What’s wrong?
At least he was always quick to respond. Yuri sighed internally.  
Me:
 I need to look like I’m busy
Katsudon:
 Aren’t you with Otabek?
Me:
 Yeah, but he’s with his friends and they’re all talking and idk what to do
Katsudon:
 So, make friends with them
Me:
 It’s not that easy!
Katsudon:
 Just talk to them
Me:
 About what?!
Katsudon:
Oh my god
 You’re a lost cause
Me:
 You’re not helping
He sent a picture of Makkachin with a stuffed toy in his mouth in response.
Yuri groaned, setting his phone down on his lap.
“Is that your dog?” Camran asked softly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to look at your
screen.”
Yuri jumped, picking up his phone. “Uh, no.” He paused; there had been a sort
of spark in his eyes. Okay, he swallowed. Start a conversation, like what
Katsudon had said. “He’s my rink-mate’s, well former rink-mate.” He shuffled
closer, tilting his phone screen so Camran could see better. “His name is
Makkachin.”
Camran’s entire face softened. “He’s adorable.”
Yuri sighed in relief. “Yeah. He’s a giant ball of fluff and slobber.”
“I love that colour.”
“Uh, it’s chocolate, I think.”
“Yeah, it’s chocolate. Poodles only come in four colours.”
Yuri honestly didn’t know that much about dogs.“Probably. He’s pretty old,
though, but he still acts like a puppy.”
Camran grinned. “Dogs are big babies to the end.” He picked up his own phone,
swiping through a few things before showing Yuri. “This is Naz.” A toffee
coloured pomeranian stared back at him, panting with its tongue hanging out the
side of its mouth.
Yuri grinned. “That’s adorable.”
“I’ve had him for five years, he’s so spoiled though.”
Yuri scoffed, tapping open his album of Potya. “This is Potya, she’s an actual
princess.”
“She’s beautiful, her eyes…”
“Yeah, her breed’s known for their blue eyes.” He swiped to a video of her
playing with Makkachin; they had been chasing each other around Viktor’s coffee
table until she jumped on top of it, zoomed across and onto Makkachin’s back.
The dog’s tail was a blur, and Yuri had never seen an animal look so confused
before. Camran cooed, clutching at the front of his shirt.
“You’ll have to come over to meet Naz sometime. He grew up with my parent’s
cat, so I’m not entirely sure he knows he’s a dog.”
Yuri chuckled. “That would be great, actually.”
It was only then he realised that the others were staring at them looking
almost stricken. Camran’s shoulders came up to his ears and he looked away.
“Well, that didn’t take long at all,” Bal snickered.
“Huh?”
“You found one of Camran’s two weaknesses.”  He was still confused.  “Animals
and The Lord of the Rings series. He’ll talk for hours about either one.”
“Shut up,” Camran mumbled. “I will not.”
Bal grinned.
Yuri tilted his head to the side. “The Lord of the Rings? Is that one where all
the memes are from?”
Camran’s head swivelled towards him and Yuri practically felt the room hold its
breath. “You’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings?” He almost sounded insulted.
“Uh, no?”
Otabek sighed heavily. “Well there goes our plans for the weekend.”
“Goes your plans?” Iska chuckled. “You now  have  plans. Hope you don’t mind
sitting down for nine hours of movies, Yuri.”
“ Nine  hours?”
“Yeah. Three movies they’re all around three hours long.”
“Actually-”
“We all know you’re going to make us watch the extended versions,” Bal  cut him
off.
Yuri chuckled. Okay, well maybe making friends wasn’t actually so hard. These
two weeks were going to amazing.
Chapter End Notes
     Deleted_Scene

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


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