(A/N - I might continue this but I'm not sure if I will. I have ideas for how it will go but I'm not sure if it's something anyone would be interested in. Please let me know if you are interested in it! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading my story!)
Cameras flashed brightly in the eyes of the blond male as he approached the podium, a serene dignity in his gait. His luscious blond tresses hung low on his back despite being held in a fashionably messy ponytail. Sly viridian eyes framed by carefully layered bangs peered out at the crowd with confidence and only just a touch of melancholy. The shorter tawny male beside him placed a comforting palm on the small of his back as he turned to face the crowd. He chuckled lightly, thinking of how in the early years of his career how he would have howled at the other for such a display, yet now he appreciated it, even if he didn't feel that he needed it at that moment. It showed how the other male cared for him, despite this sad day having to come at last.
"Ladies and gentlemen…" he began, calm baritone ringing through the speakers set up around the massive courtyard. The gold medals of his career shone brightly around his neck, resting on his chest with pride. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have agreed to this conference to announce formally that I, Yuri Plisetsky-Altin, six-time Grand Prix gold medalist for Russia, am retiring." Disappointed cries from the audience halted him only for a moment. He raised both hands, silently asking for their cooperation, and it came quickly. "I am currently twenty-nine years old. I have exceeded, in years, far more than most skaters could dream. I have broken seven world records, including the world record for most gold medals won in a career."
Hands shot up from throughout the entire audience, causing the blond to smile back at his husband of four years. The Kazakh man smiled in return, his expression nothing short of adoring. Yuri's eyes met the single gold medal he wore, and laughed softly recalling Otabek's final year in the profession, when he had shocked everyone, including Yuri, by stealing away the gold. It had been an emotional performance he would never forget in all of his life and he had never been so happy to wear silver. He turned back to the crowd, head held high. "Yes! You there," he gestured an elegantly slender hand to a woman towards the front.
"Mr. Plisetsky-Altin! There were rumors of you opening your own coaching business for figure skating, much in the footsteps your former peer, Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki… Is there any truth to that rumor?!" She exclaimed, holding up a recording device with the type of vigor that came only from being new to a profession.
Yuri made a face at her briefly, slightly peeved. "Well… I hope that my breaking into coaching won't be looked upon as someone who followed anyone else's footsteps, but yes. I do plan on coaching. I also am opening a ballet house in Moscow next spring where I will teach in my spare time. For the times that I am gone for coaching I have collected a variety of top ballet mistresses and masters. I hope that it will see many patrons. Next question, please?"
Another wave of hands rose.
As Yuri went from person to person Otabek couldn't help but to smile, his eyes softening as he looked at the other. He was handling this so well. Otabek had thought that he would at least have shouted at a reporter or two for the invasive and, at times, embarrassing questions they were asking, yet he was taking them with such grace. A glimmer in the blond's eyes made the shorter male's heart leap.
A single tear fell from Yuri's deep green eyes, a fond yet desperate smile on his face. He never thought this day would come. Another rolled down his cheek. He raised a hand to brush them away before announcing in a voice that was perhaps a little too loud and reminiscent of his fifteen year old self, "Thank you, everyone, for cheering me on throughout my career! It has been the best time of my entire life! And to all future medalists… Davai!"
Cheers broke out throughout the crowd as Yuri turned to the man behind him, collapsing into his arms with a loud sob. Tears began to soak through Otabek's dress shirt as he held the other, rubbing his back as he shuffled him off of the stage and into the privacy of the back room. No sooner did the door shut behind them than did Yuri fall to his knees, shaking while his fists balled at his rapidly reddening eyes. Loud sobs wracked his body, making the Kazakh's heart ache. Quickly he knelt by his husband's side, enveloping him in a tight hug.
He said nothing, not because there was nothing that could be said, but because he knew that there were no words that could possibly console his precious Yuri at a time like this. Figure skating had been his livelihood, and perhaps even his reason for living. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing slightly as tears came to his own eyes. He buried his face in the shivering man's shoulder and wept for him as silently as he could. He had not seen Yuri cry like this since the loss of his beloved grandfather all those years ago.
Yuri had spent almost fifteen years in the field, a terrifying amount of time that had gained him the respect and admiration of the entire figure skating world. The man that Otabek held was arguably the best that had ever been in the history of the sport, and he knew that had been Yuri's goal from the very beginning. Even he was in awe of the great Yuri Plisetsky-Altin, a man whom he had woken up next to in bed for many years, even before their engagement and subsequent marriage. A man whom he had shared so many laughs and tears with from both good times and bad. A man who seemed so desperately human right now that it threatened to break his heart.
Minutes passed as they cried in each other's arms before Yuri looked up, his face red and tear-stained. "B-Beka…" he whimpered, seeming somehow so very small and frail in Otabek's wavering chestnut eyes. With a sudden lunge forward Yuri caught the other man's lips with his own, crushing them together so hard that Otabek could swear he tasted blood. Still he did not care, and neither did Yuri. Pale fingers tangled in black locks as they kissed, tasting the salt of each other's tears on their lips. Shakily, the Russian pulled away, trembling Prussian green orbs looking at his devoted husband. "Beka… I love you so much…"
Their hearts pounded in time as Otabek pressed his forehead against the other's, a smile playing on his bruised lips. "I love you too, Yura… More than anything in this world. Active or retired, you are the most impressive man in the world." He thumbed away the tears threatening to spill over Yuri's lashes once more, doing his best to look as strong as possible for the other.
Yuri leaned into his husband's touches, reaching up to hold Otabek's left hand, running his fingers over the etched golden band that laid there. It matched his own. "I… I don't know what I did to deserve you, Beka," his voice trembled.
Otabek blushed the faintest shade of red as he grinned. "Yura…" he said with a chuckle, "You know that I'm the lucky one. No one could come close to you, my six-time champion." His free hand nudged the other's chin playfully. "I struggle to keep up with you." It was Yuri's turn to flush red, though with his tear-swollen face it was hard to tell. Otabek knew nevertheless, a knowledge that could only come from spending so many years together.
"Sh… Shut up."
Otabek laughed, gingerly kissing the very tip of the other's running nose. A tender look in his eyes, he pulled back. "I love you too, Yura." Strong Kazakh hands held the other close as he sighed. "We have to meet the others for dinner tonight, you know?"
"I know," Yuri whispered, nuzzling into the other's chest, his snot smearing on the black fabric. Otabek pretended not to notice. "I'll get up… Just let me sit here for a moment longer."
Otabek smiled a heartfelt grin, his heart skipping a beat. It was amazing how the years had not changed what the blond could do to him. He nodded. "Alright… Just for a moment."