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The gulls of St. Petersburg call out to one another as the last rays of the sun shine. Otabek breathes in the crisp spring air as he stands on the balcony of Yuri’s apartment. There is a sweet almost-scent of warmth, of May just around the corner. Otabek cannot wait to see the Russian city in bloom.
It’s been almost three and a half years since the Grand Prix in Barcelona. The Worlds are over, which is why he is here at Yuri’s instead of home in Almaty or travelling to a competition. The off-season has arrived. He and Yuri are taking it easy, which means they go to practice six days a week still, but the hours are shorter and they can take a slight vacation. Some evenings they go for strolls through various parks, while others they spend cuddled up on Yuri’s bed watching whatever catches their fancy (it’s often cat videos if it’s Yuri’s turn).
Otabek is currently dressed in soft, royal blue stretch pants and a black sweater, enough to stand outside for five minutes without freezing. He hears the sliding door open and then leopard-print clad arms wrap around his waist.
“Beka, whatcha doing out here?” Yuri slurs. He’s still sleep-warm from their accidental nap.
“Just getting some fresh air,” he responds before turning around in Yuri’s arms. His kitten barely has his eyes open, his blonde hair- now shoulder length again- is falling out of its braids, and he is slightly trembling as the cool wind hits his bare legs. Leopard-print hoodie and black shorts are acceptable inside Yuri’s warm apartment, but the last thing Otabek wants is for his boyfriend to be sick. Yuri has the tendency to hide his symptoms: the result of a lifetime of fighting to prove he’s the best and trying to provide for his grandfather.
“Let’s go back in,” Otabek says and Yuri nods in agreement, leading them back over to the couch where they’d fallen asleep. Otabek sits down in front of the couch with his legs slightly bent, expecting Yuri to lay back down on the couch.
His boyfriend surprises him and plops down on his lap, his body still shorter than Otabek’s as they both had growth spurts when Yuri was sixteen. Some days this bothers Yuratchka to no end, despite his knowledge that Otabek loves their minor height difference- Otabek is almost certain J.J. is the reason why. Yuri rests his chin on Otabek’s shoulder and slumps forward.
“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” he asks. Yuri mumbles a yes, turns his head slightly to the right to press a barely-there kiss to his neck before turning his head back to the left and letting his head rest more solidly against Otabek’s well-formed trapezius.
Otabek smiles fondly at the familiar sensation of being his kitten’s pillow. His phone buzzes and he pulls it out to see a message from his younger sister.
From Aliya: Was at Grandma’s today. We made your favourite cookies and they’ll be on their way to you tomorrow :) Also, she says to tell you to bring Yura home with you Beks.
He rests his hands on Yuri’s back as he types a response to Aliya, finding he has a lot more to say than he realized.
To Aliya: Tell Grandma thanks and that Yura and I already decided he would be. Went to a Japanese restaurant yesterday with Viktor and Yuuri.
From Aliya: Oh? How was it?
To Aliya: Good. Yuuri complimented the chef.
From Aliya: WOW
Otabek smiles. Even hundreds of kilometres away, he can easily picture his sixteen year-old sister’s face.
To Aliya: Yeah, we were all impressed. I have a feeling Viktor will be taking Yuuri there for their next anniversary.
From Aliya: So what are you up to today big bro?
To Aliya: Resting. Just woke up from a nap. Yura’s still dozing on my lap.
His phone lights up immediately.
From Aliya: PICS NOW!
He obliges his sister, knows that if he doesn’t, she’ll text Yuri instead. He wants to let Yuri nap against him for now.
Right after he sends the photo, Sofiya walks over to them, tailing curling happily as she rises up on her back legs and places her forepaws on Yuri’s back for balance. Otabek smiles fondly at the beautiful Siamese-Persian mix, takes another photo and sends it to Aliya as well, followed by a line of text reading “she wants attention.” He sets his phone to the side and scratches Sofiya behind her ear, who begins to purr.
Then the beloved feline, mystically aware that Otabek was trying to not wake Yuri, moves off Yuri’s back. She walks up the side of Otabek’s leg to curl up in the slight space between their bodies, effectively dragging Yuri back to the world of the waking.
“Wha-? Oh, Sofiya,” Yuri mutters and drops one hand to stroke her while he nuzzles Otabek’s neck.
As Otabek joins in the petting- Sofiya purring up a storm now that both her humans are giving her attention- he feels his heart swell at the fact that this is somehow his life. His beautiful Yuri is in his lap, soft and gentle in this private space, while Sofiya affectionately licks his finger.
Despite being a five and a half hour flight away from Almaty, he feels like he’s home.
A few days later, Otabek is in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Yuri can make a mean borscht and several other dishes besides, but it’s Otabek who is the chef extraordinaire when it comes to morning foods.
He’s just finishing up the waffles Yura loves so much when Sofiya walks over and begins to twine herself around Otabek’s legs. He chuckles and drops a miniscule piece of bacon. Sofiya purrs contentedly as she licks it up.
“Is there coffee?” a gruff voice asks and Sofiya abandons Otabek for her first human. Otabek turns and can’t resist the smile that grows across his face. Doesn’t want to.
Yuri is dressed in a pair of leopard print boxers and Beka’s black sweater, leaning against the doorframe. Yuri’s hair is once again ruffled by sleep and Beka’s fingers. It’s one of Otabek’s favourite looks on Yura.
“Three inches from your elbow, kitten,” Otabek murmurs as he turns off the stove and plates the last waffle. He walks over to his boyfriend, who has already drained half the mug of the doctored coffee (Yura drinks it with far too much sugar, in Otabek’s opinion- which isn’t saying much because any sugar in coffee is too much for Otabek).
Yura glances up at Beka sleepily, but has the presence of mind to put the mug back on the counter just as Beka cups his face and kisses him. They stay there for a few moments, exchanging sleepy kisses before Yuri’s stomach growls loudly.
Otabek pulls away and tugs on Yuri’s-his- sweater once. Then he turns and carries the plates of food to the small table, knowing Yuri will follow. Breakfast is a quiet affair, as per usual. Yuri doesn’t really perk up until he steps onto the ice most mornings.
Yuri disappears into the bedroom while Otabek puts the dishes in the sink. By the time the table and oven are cleared off, Otabek can hear the water being turned off in the bathroom: Yuri has finished brushing his teeth. Otabek goes to join him and is greeted with the sight of his boyfriend holding out a tiger striped brush and a couple hair ties.
“Beka?” Yuri’s voice is a soft plea. Otabek smiles and takes the brush. Yuri faces away from him while he brushes the golden strands. However, when it comes time to put Yuri’s hair into two braids, his current preferred style for keeping his hair out of his face, Yuri slowly starts to turn towards him and lean against his chest.
Otabek almost wishes his sister were with them at this moment, to take a picture of the sight they must make: Yura in his (borrowed) sweater, black with the outline of a white rectangle, and those ridiculously cute leopard print boxers, and he in a reverse of Yura’s sweater, cream with a the perimeter of a rectangle in black and the blue jeans he’ll wear to the rink. To borrow a phrase from his sister, they look “hella cute.”
He finishes the braids, secures them with the hair ties and a couple pins before brushing a kiss against Yuri’s forehead. “Come on kitten, you need to get dressed.”
“Mmm, fine, Beka. Ruin the mood and my nap,” Yuri grouses, but there’s no heat and even if this were two years ago and there was heat, Otabek would have ignored it. He’d learned to read his friend- now lover- very early on. Instead, Otabek steps aside and guides Yuri forward. Once Yuri has stepped towards the bedroom, Otabek can’t resist one parting shot: he slaps Yuri’s ass.
Yuri starts and turns his head back to look at his boyfriend, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. Otabek just lets the smugness rise to his lips and smirks back. Yuri’s eyes narrow and he stomps over, yanks Beka down by his sweater and kisses him fiercely.
Otabek responds, kisses Yura back, barely holding back at a chuckle at how cat-like his boyfriend is: fur on end like Otabek just ran his hand the wrong way to pet Sofiya. He lets Yuri control the kiss for a moment before he pulls back.
“We have practice.”
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe later,” he responds calmly, knowing it gets under Yuri’s skin. He smirks again, but Yuri is wise to his game now and pivots in a huff, marching into the bedroom to throw on some clothes so they can get to the rink.
Ten minutes later, they’re lacing up shoes and tugging on light jackets. Just as Yuri goes to open the door, Otabek catches his chin and leans down to press a soft kiss to Yuri’s lips.
“I love you Yuratchka.”
Yuri grins at this declaration, for it is both familiar and yet still special. He’ll never grow tired of hearing Beka say that to him. Otabek feels his heart skip a beat at his boyfriend’s smile. Yura’s smiles, while more common now, are rarely this bright in public. Otabek savours the smiles Yura gives him when they are alone, thrilled to be the one to make him smile and grateful to be the one to see them.
“Love you too Beka.” With a final sweet kiss, the pair of skaters head out of their home for the day.