alwaysthequietones | (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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It takes Yuri a second to come out of his icing-induced haze. Connect the dots. Then there is a sly grin. He places two fingers in his mouth this time, drags them out. Deliberately.

"Why? Jealous?"

If he does much of this, he's going to be tormenting himself as much as Otabek. But it's fun!

"More of your fingers than the cinnamon roll," his tone is almost casual, because if they are going to play, he's going to play. He doesn't know any other way to go about things than to try to win.

He takes another bite of his roll, still polite as ever about eating it. It's a tease of it's own-- he's tidy in all ways he wasn't last night, all straight-laced and unaffected in precisely the way he knows will get under Yuri's skin.

He knows Yuri will know, too. It's all he can do to keep his expression neutral instead of smirking and anticipatory.

Yuri arches an eyebrow - Did Beka just - yup, it is on now!

Since there is no kill like overkill, each cinnamon roll has come with an extra cup of icing. Yuri cracks his open. Forgoing the pastry and dipping his fingers right in. This time he is even more deliberate with the cleanup. Letting his tongue drag out, somehow brighter in the sterile airport lights.

See how Beka's ice-queen thing holds out against that.

Anyone watching Otabek from a distance, anyone who doesn't know him very well (so, everyone, except for the person he's at the table with) would look at this at this point and see Yuri deliberately being ridiculously, over the top sexual about the icing, not even bothering to hide it, and Otabek looking at him impassively, maybe with a bit of the suggestion of an incredulous eyebrow.

Yuri on the other hand, can see the way his eyes sharpen their focus on him, follow the path of his fingers into his mouth, the curl of his tongue and feel the tension in him across the table. It's not a warning kind of tension or like he's upset, it's the kind of tension that speaks for how much he is not closing the distance between them, how his tongue isn't lapping the icing from his fingers or he's not drawing them into his mouth.

"Yuri..." he says and anyone else would think it was a warning, a reminder to behave. Across the table between them it is more obviously a call for privacy, preferably right now, which is exactly something they can't really have.

There is a crease between Yuri's eyebrows. A brief curl of his fingers into a fist, as though annoyed.

Which he is. But not with Beka.

"Fuck," he grumbles. Dropping his head to the table. Suddenly losing patience with the game. It hits how uncomfortable his pants have gotten, and how little he can actually do about it. "I wish it started snowing before we left..."

"Me too," it's impassive but they both know he's anything but. But where can they go? There's no place with privacy at an airport. Maybe... if they found one of those single person restroom stalls? Did they even have those here? He hadn't noticed. It's the only idea his mind seizes on though. Maybe Yuri has some better ones?

"There has to be somewhere..." maybe somehow Yuri can scream one into existence-- that seems to be a thing he does.

It's a funny thought, but he doesn't need to be thinking about Yuri screaming right now.

Not scream. Even Yuri knows that in an airport that will be the opposite of a Good Idea. But that drive - that determination to get his way - that's something... They can't be the only ones who have ever wanted to try this...

"Wait here."

He darts away. Five minutes. Ten. It's pushing twenty by the time Yuri returns. Stuffing a bag into his pocket and grinning. He jerks his head at Beka. Turns on his heel to duck back into the crowd.

Let's go.

Otabek raises his eyebrows to that and then settles in for the longest 20 minutes of his life, as he flips through Instagram and Facebook and really doesn't see anything he's looking at. He likes a few things, but his mind is definitely more attuned to hearing Yuri's reappearing footsteps than anything he's reading.

So he looks up well before Yuri actually gets all the way back to him, which definitely means that he's losing patience. That grin does all kinds of things to him and none of them are good. No, all of them are good, but all of them are an invitation to do something really stupid.

There's no hesitation to him getting out of his seat, shouldering his small bag, and following, though.

Yuri doesn't wait for him. He flits ahead - not trying to lose Otabek, but with what he's found? It's going to take some spacing. Not a lot. The seething, stressed crowds are more worried about their transfers then a couple of teenagers.

At last he reaches a door and ducks in. Above it is a sign - a man and a woman, holding the hands of a child between them.

A family bathroom. A room that locks.

Otabek almost actually smiles when he sees where Yuri's going, because that had been his idea, too, and while he was thinking there was a chance Yuri of all people would think of something more flashy, he's kind of pleased that the thought he started with ended up being the best one. He holds back, waits just a second and then goes through the door.

He's locking it as he's turning around and then unless for some strange reason Yuri has discovered something bad about this particular restroom or suddenly been replaced by an alien, they crash into each other and he's got his tongue in Yuri's mouth before either one of them can draw another breath.

It's actually not bad for a bathroom. There's wider counter space, for diaper bags and such, and even a small couch for - whatever you do with babies. Who cares. All Yuri knows is he could do with a lot less and be fine with it. He'd been about three minutes away from just trying to find a wall.

He growls as Beka laps away the last of the frosting. Replacing it with his own taste and that's fine. That's fucking great.

"Get me out of these pants," he orders. Though Yuri isn't exactly helping. Not with the way he's already got a leg wound around the outside of Otabek's.