Yuri's Pov
"Beka, where are my chips?" I asked. It was mid morning, and Beka and I were at my apartment in St. Petersburg. We were getting ready to go practice at the rink later, but because it was the weekend, it would be on our own. Yakov liked taking the weekends off, the old lazy geezer. And Beka would be going back home tomorrow to train with his coach for the week.
"I put them in the cupboard above the stove. Just… leave some for me, will you? Sweet and sour chips are my favorite." Beka called from the living room. Ugh. Who does he think I am? I swear he has no faith in me. I can't help but feel perturbed by this statement. Does he think I'm a pig or something?
"I know, Beka, relax. I'm not a pig like Katsudon, ok? I'll leave some for you." I hear Beka chuckle condescendingly as I grab the bag and sit down. Hmmph, I'll show him!
As soon as I open the bag, though, my resolve is weakened. Shit. I find myself stuffing my face with the chips. Fuck it all. They're too damn delicious to resist. Actually, these are my chips…. Why should I be the one resisting them? Dammit, Beka.
I stop controlling myself.
"YURIIII I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU'D LEAVE SOME FOR ME. SLOW DOWN. Breathe." Beka practically shouts as he enters the kitchen.
"But…. chips… and food…. are life…. buy your own bag after practice." I keep eating until the package is empty. Part of me feels guilty, but… I can't help it. What's gotten into me? You're such a Katsudon.
Beka stares at me funny. Then, turns away and slinks back into the living room. Great, just great. He probably thinks I'm mad at him. Again.
Sighing, I throw the chip bag into the trash, and grab my gym bag. I left it by the door for convenience. I glance into the living room. Beka is scrolling his phone, his back towards me.
"Ready to go, Beks?" I'm a bit too sarcastic sounding. Shit.
"Let's go, kitty." He smirks. I hiss. He knows I hate it when he calls me kitty. But he does it when he's really perturbed at me. SHIT.
He's been using that pet name a lot lately.
Otabek's PoV
Yuri and I have been dating for about four months now. I've been trying to set the tempo slow, because I know he's not used to relationships. Of any kind. I was his first real friend, for fuck's sake.
Dating Yuri is like a crazy storm. It's unpredictable, and his mood swings are even more so. I understand… he's not used to expressing himself. But he shows his affection in other ways besides words. In the way he'll hold my hand when I'm upset, and the way he'll cook me pancakes for breakfast sometimes. It's…. really endearing to see him don an apron, let me tell you.
I've been coming to St. Petersburg to stay with Yuri around every other weekend. Because of Yakov being so strict, Yuri isn't able to leave long enough to come and see me. If I end up staying an extra day or so, my coach doesn't mind so much. It's just easier for me to come here. Staying in his apartment… feels nice. Like keeping house. It makes me want to stay, always.
Today, he's being his feisty self. Although… I've noticed lately, or maybe it's just me… he seems more on edge than normal. Crazy, I know. And yet, I can't for the life of me manage to understand why. And it's causing tension between us, causing me to become overly irritated with him. I hate feeling that way.
We walk in silence to the rink. Waiting there is a lone reporter, looming at the door. I think nothing of it. It's common to see them around here, wanting pictures or comments on recent rumor speculations, things like that. I hear Yuri scoff under his breath. He considers interviews an inconvenience, and I know he's thinking the same thing he always thinks; he's hoping this reporter isn't waiting for him.
But being the Grand Prix gold medalist pretty much guaranteed he was waiting for him. The reporter stood up as we approached.
"Yuri? Yuri Plisetsky?" I nudge him to remind him to be nice.
"Umm, yeah." The reporter lights up, and grabs his pencil and notepad.
"Great! I just have a few questions, is that ok?... Oh!" He looks to me. "You're Otabek Altin! Can I ask you guys a few questions? I hear you're… umm… together." He chuckles. "Sorry if that's not right… at least, that's what my sources tell me, so...hahah…." He itches the back of his head. I can't help but wonder why he's so nervous.
"We're together, that's right." I step in, noticing Yuri's blush stained face. Adorable.
"Umm, great!" The reporter looks relieved. "Ok, so first off: how long have you guys been… a thing?"
He continues to ask us questions, Yuri is scuffing his feet into the dirt. He's bored. Honestly, I don't blame him. I'm starting to get bored, too. How long is this reporter going to ask questions?
"Ok, I have one final question. What do you both do with the stuffed toys you received from your fans?"
"I usually keep them and place them on a special shelf I have for them." I say nonchalantly. I look over, and Yuri has a hesitant look on his face. I know he feels embarrassed to admit he doesn't just throw them all away (because that's exactly what all the cool kids do, right?) Smirking, I add "Oh, and Yuri totally sleeps with his." I look over at Yuri, expecting his usual huffy anger and indignant denials. Instead, all I see is shock. I realize in that moment, that I maybe should have kept my mouth shut.
