alwaysthequietones | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's different, he learns, actually being friends with someone on the ice.

It's not just Yuri, either-- Viktor's friendship kind of ends up being this weird package deal with that that he wasn't expecting and Yuuri's follows and Yuuri seems like one of those people everyone just likes for some reason and so everyone else seems to follow suit. He's not really much of a people person-- people tend to find him too quiet and get bored and he finds small talk pretty exhausting, himself-- so "friendship" in this case might be too strong a word for what any of them feel towards him, but he's invested now, enough that every now and again, he'll even post something on Instagram or like a few scattered posts here and there.

He and Yuri talk more often than that, but it's still just a smattering of texts here and there and he's no better at pleasantries on the internet than he is in person, but Yuri really doesn't seem to care, so it works out okay. It's... nice. Having someone to talk to. He's spent most of his skating career not being very good at... well, most of the things other skaters were good at. Dance, talking, smiling for the camera. He's not unaware of how sullen he looks next to Viktor and Chris in some of those pictures when it was the three of them on the podium. He's just not really someone to smile and play nice with a bunch of reporters. He prefers to mean it, when he smiles.

He doesn't smile a lot.

But that's okay, too. He's an athlete. He's good at what he does. It's enough. ... Except now he's getting out there, competition after competition and skating against people he knows and one person he knows in particular and it's... different, now. He feels things more. He's still a solid skater, does the same things he's always done, just better. He's getting silver suddenly, more than bronze, though the fight to land on the podium at all is getting rougher and he misses it more than once.

And then, on the first competition to the Grand Prix Finals, suddenly he's standing higher than everyone else, and it's just qualifier, but it matters, because it's Yuri with the silver around his neck.

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Everything with Otabek is distilled (some naysayers might say beaten) down to it's component parts, churned through until it's simplified, makes sense. This makes sense already, even though he doesn't know how it got started or why it's happening quite like this. He moves his hand out of Yuri's hair to get even better leverage under his thighs, ass, and everything is heated and perfect, exactly as it should be. He grips what might be bruises into tender skin, but it's in the name of finding an even better angle, a way to make this even more intense.

They're careening towards an edge, something irrevocable, here, and Otabek doesn't talk much but there's really no reason to hold a lot back when he does want to say something, so it's hardly something he has to think about, to growl out,

"Hurry up... I want to watch you come."

It is massively unfair Otabek sounds that hot right now. All Yuri can manage is various iterations of "Fuck."

There is no possible way to last any longer after that. Not with the rage of competition still seething through him, Otabek's hands on his ass and Yuri's not really though much about having a first time but this?

This is fucking perfect.

He unhinges on that thought, legs clamping tight. Burying his face into Otabek's shoulder with the last scrap of sense his has. Otherwise the whole damn stadium is going to hear the scream.

Otabek's close, because he doesn't talk much or seem to have all the massive outward energy of most of the others on the ice, but he's viciously competitive and he's won today, and here's another thing that he wants that he's being allowed to have, even before he really knew he'd reached for it.

He is not used to things being this easy.

Yuri pulls him in with his legs, tight, and the friction spikes, but if he had to peel apart this moment, he would say it's the scream that actually does it, even though it's felt in his shoulder more than heard, the way Yuri does this like everything else he does-- violent and angry and brilliant. His own noises are quiet, but there's a different quality to them for Yuri to squirrel away, something a little wounded, soft, in his ear.

He sinks down to the floor with Yuri's legs still slung over his hips a moment later and that he doesn't just fall on his ass is pretty impressive since he's sinking there because he's pretty sure he can't hold them both up anymore. He keeps Yuri locked tight in his arms though, and he's hit by an aftershock he's not expecting, when the weight of him settles in his lap, hands able to cup opposite sides of him around.

Probably this should be awkward. Maybe it's going to be awkward. They hadn't really even sort of been like this before or talked about this. But right now, Otabek really doesn't care about any of that. He wants to kiss Yuri some more, so he does, gentler now.

If they'd talked about it, Yuri would have shut it down. At once. Because kissing and relationships are for old married people to worry about. Who needs that drama?! Not him. If he can barely handle friends how is he supposed to deal with - a partner or a boyfriend or a girlfriend or whatever.

But Otabek snuck up on him. And whatever this is, it's good. So Yuri clings tight. Taking his time exploring Otabek's mouth, now that the frenzy has passed. It would be a lie to say he never wondered about how it would feel.

"Congratulations," he mumbles. Belatedly. He's smiling, and it probably looks stupid but he can't help it.

Otabek laughs at that, because it's very much a Yuri sort of thing and because it almost sounds like he's talking about what they just did. His laugh is quiet, always is, almost silent. He kisses him again, because he can, before he adds,

"Thanks. I should win more often," it's clear from the tone, low, pitched for the space between them, that he's not saying that because he wants a gold medal, not right now, but because of this.

"They are going to be looking for us," is what he follows that with, but there's also another kiss, and he doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry.

Yuri snorts. Tips his chin up into his best 'haughty' look.

"Tch. You can try."

Then he breaks into another stupid grin. Lets himself be kissed again. No really. Otabek should definitely try. Like. Maybe right now. Yuri sinks more against him, soaking in the warmth.

Except... ugh, Otabek's right. Yakov's going to start bellowing any second. As Yuri comes down from the high, reality begins to push back in. He's starting to get cold, and sticky, and... uh-oh. His costume is light, and there's... okay, there's kind of some evidence showing up now.

"Oh shit."

Otabek grins back to that, always seems to hear the things Yuri isn't saying, even when he's saying a lot of different things.

He looks to see what Yuri's upset about, and then flushes just a little because... oops? But he only takes a moment to be embarrassed before he's running through options. He's wearing pants over his costume and they're black, but if he gives them to Yuri, he's both in the same spot and Yuri is wearing his pants and as much as he suddenly realizes how hot that is, it's going to be just as suspicious.

"I can't help with your coach or anyone else, but I can go out first and keep the hyenas from seeing you." It's a hell of an offer, both with how much Otabek is not usually particularly sparkling in front of the press and that he's offering to do it sticky and tired.

(Of course, this also means there may be an interview later where no one else can tell what's happening, but Yuri can see himself written all over Otabek.)

Yuri visibly struggles. It's asking Otabek to save him again. But Otabek wouldn't offer if he really didn't want to do it.

"Yeah. Um. Okay."

He pushes off. Kind of stumbling, all grace gone. Not sure what he's supposed to do now, what to say. His face is bright red, hair in shambles. It's not hard to guess what he's been up to. Even if he could cover the stain,

There's some luck on their side, though - most of the reporters are still distracted. Something about Viktor getting a nosebleed. Between that and Otabek, there's definitely enough cover for Yuri to book it to the locker room. Run his costume under cold water. Hoping the trick for blood works here.

Otabek reels him back in one more time before he can vanish. His hands are steady, sure, no hesitation. He pulls the rest of Yuri's hair down, efficiently, hands him the ties, runs his fingers through it just a moment, to get it to lay a little better. He tugs up the neck on his jacket a bit, hiding the mark he made, that Yuri's not aware of yet. The whole thing isn't done either tenderly or like it's a burden, it's just something that needs to be done, so he does it.

It's not complicated.

Neither is pulling Yuri back in for a final kiss,

"See you at dinner?" it's a question, but it's rhetorical, more a confirmation that he's going out to dinner and an invitation for Yuri. But there's no real answer needed and probably no time for one anyway, before he's back out in the flashing lights.

This time, he does actually manage a smile. One reporter gets a really good shot of it, even.

No, what's complicated is convincing yourself your heart isn't going to beat out of your chest. Trying to hear anything over the weird ring in your ears. Feeling your best friends (?) hands in your hair hours later.

In short - Yuri's kind of a mess. But it gets folded into his usual short temper, his sure disappointment at only nabbing silver. (Sure. He'll just let everyone think that.)

He spends way too much time choosing clothes. Picks up the phone half a dozen times, torn whether he should text Otabek this soon? Or not? You know what, fuck this. He's not going to NOT text Otabek just because they... shit shit shit there goes the blush again.

you dressing up?

No more than usual.

Not that Otabek ever looks particularly fancy, but it's a nod to his fashion choices being deliberate, which Yuri actually might not know about him.

Should I?

There's no emoji and Otabek wouldn't be smiling anyway, not with his mouth, but there's something in the question that Yuri's come to recognize as more the tone of him smiling.

And Yuri knows it well enough that a smile sneaks onto his own face.

i mean
if you want
you always look good

It's not like dinner is going to be that big of a deal. Viktor has just announced everyone's coming, without really asking anyone, so... yeah. Yuri would have gotten dragged there one way or another. Now he's actually looking forward to it?

i have to wear a sweater tho
dont want to look stupid

Sorry.

He's not. They both know he's not. In fact, he only says it because they both know he's not.

You're welcome to your revenge later.

And there it is, subtle but plain enough. Yuri probably should have expected as much, that Otabek wouldn't shy away from things, but it might be surprising, to see how easily that's offered, no pause between the messages other than the time it would have taken to type.

yeah you BETTER be ready to make it up!!!

It's pretty much all bluster. Yuri has no idea how this is all supposed to go. What he does know is he likes the weird thrill from pulling his shirt over the bruise. The slightest twinge from sensitized skin. "Later" glows in his head, lit in neon and flashing. Later. Otabek wants to do that again.

How the hell is Yuri going to get through dinner.

Dinner? How's he going to make it through the appetizers?

Otabek shows up in a loose-fitting, v-necked shirt in some kind of soft black material that both clings a little bit, and also shows off all of his fucking neck like a dare. There's no way it's an accident, particularly since he has to take off his scarf for it to be seen, which he usually doesn't bother with to eat.

He's dressed nicely enough, but he's definitely not dressed up, either, which means, in no uncertain terms, that he's dressed this way for Yuri.

Of course, all he does is give a little wave and then go sit down next to him.

Yuri has never been so aware of any stretch of skin in his life. His own sweater is higher, but he didn't have to resort to a turtleneck. That would be a dead giveaway.

(Even so, he is maybe not fooling certain people at this party. Viktor seems to be smirking more then usual. Or maybe Yuri's just being paranoid?)

"Hey," he nods.

Great. One word out without attacking Otabek's neck. Hell, he should get a gold medal just for that.

Otabek is impassive as ever, but watching the things Yuri's face does, following the path of his eyes down his neck, gets him immediately impatient. Luckily, everyone's kind of used to almost ignoring that Otabek is there until he says something, so it's not like he's going to be the focus of any attention.

Except, as they wait for their food (he has no idea what he ordered) he catches several of the other skaters looking back and forth between him and Yuri. Although, they more look worried. He supposes the tension between them must look a lot like Yuri being upset at silver to his gold. Viktor is the only one who doesn't seem to be reacting that way, and that's because he's blushing every time he looks over at one of them, which is weird, but Viktor has always been weird.

He lets the conversation swirl around him, like always, but this time feels... different, with how attuned he is to the person beside him.

Thank God it's Emil and Mickey rounding out the rest of the group. Not JJ. There would be blood.

As it is, Yuri's quieter then usual. Eating whatever lands in front of him, pointedly not looking up. God, he never thought he would pray for Chris to start hitting on somebody. It would be a distraction from the attention pressing down on him like a weight.

(They don't know fuck does everybody know?!)

Otabek's hand is only a few inches away. Yuri can't stop thinking about that space. It feels like miles.

They make it through dinner.

Otabek does eventually get pulled into a "conversation" but it mostly seems to be Emil, who's boxed in a bit by him and Mickey trying desperately to get any kind of conversation at all to happen on his end of the table. Otabek does actually know how to have one of those, he just mostly doesn't see the point, but he gets pulled into be surprisingly more talkative, if only to keep his mind busy.

When Viktor orders a third round of drinks, though, he shakes his head, makes motions towards leaving. There's no real good way for Yuri to follow suit without it being obvious, though, so he tosses out,

"You want to head back with me, or are you going to stay and watch Viktor take off all his clothes again."

Yuri jumps up, pulling a face. "God no, save me."

He grabs Otabek's arm without thinking. Hauling ass for the door. This actually gets a laugh from the table, a chorus of goodbyes as Viktor laments how underappreciated he is!

As soon as they're away from the restaurant windows, Yuri sags against the wall. Grateful for the chill in the air. He is very interested in continuing their... 'conversation' from earlier. He just needs to be able to breathe for one goddamn minute.

Oh.

He's still holding onto Otabek. Well, screw it, he's not letting go now.

He's holding onto Otabek and Otabek is smiling. It's a really subtle thing, but the curl of his lips is there. It's more around his eyes than in his mouth, though, when he smiles, harder to see when he's wearing sunglasses, but obvious like this.

He's not quite a "kiss in the middle of the street" type, but he does sink against the wall next to him without disturbing the grip,

"I thought that was never going to end," and then, head tilted a little, "You can ride on the front of the bike this time," it's not permission, he's telling, "I don't trust you not to get us into an accident just because you can."

Yuri cocks an eyebrow at him.

"In front - What, like driving?! I don't know how to drive, idiot!"

Hopefully, if he can tell when Otabek's smiling, Otabek can tell when 'idiot' is meant to be affectionate?

"I know. Though maybe I could teach you sometime. I don't think I have the patience for that tonight though. I think you're small enough to sit on my lap in the model I have, at least on the way back to the hotel. But if I'm wrong, we won't do it," he says the whole thing so casually, like it's not any of the things it's going to be.

He'd never risk something like that on a highway, but a few short side streets less than ten minutes ride form their hotel? He's been riding motorcycles his whole life, he's pretty sure he can manage it.

Yuri stares at Otabek for a few seconds. Trying to get this to make sense. His brain is having trouble getting past the sit on my lap part.

He doesn't know what to do with all the strange feelings bubbling under his skin. At all. The closest he's felt was skating Agape at last year's Grand Prix. And that's still not quite right.

Finally there's a small smile. A shrug, because anything more and he's afraid he might start laughing. Or screaming. Something embarrassing.

"Yeah. Okay. Got a helmet?"

"Yeah. I figured you weren't going to want to stay and watch Viktor get drunk. Come on," he tugs them into motion this time. He's not really forceful about anything, he just kind of presumes Yuri will let him know if there's something he doesn't want to do. Besides, he's pretty sure neither of them have any idea how this is supposed to work, and he's equally sure neither of them would care how it was supposed to work if they did.

They get to the bike, which is in a nearby parking structure, and he hands Yuri the helmet, considers how to make this work. He's seen it on a TV show or a movie or something, but he hasn't spent a whole lot of time with anyone else on his bike, much less a non-traditional riding position. Now that he's here, it seems a little silly, but he's not backing off of it.

He decides it's better for Yuri to actually get on first and him to kind of slide in and up behind him, but as soon as he does, he immediately stops.

"I... don't think this is as good of an idea as I thought," it's not immediately obvious why not, other than that Yuri is sitting more on his lap than not, their thighs tight together, but they would be more or less the same the other way, too.