A/N: I put this on AO3 forever ago, can't believe I forgot to do it here. Working on Chapter 2 now, thanks for stopping by. Also, apparently people need to be reassured this is not going to be PliRoy. Title taken from the beautiful Kamelot song coz I'm lazy.
Liar Liar
ONE
Yuri doesn't talk about his parents and very few people know about them, mostly out of necessity. Yakov, Lilia, and grandpa, of course. Viktor knows because he's Viktor. Other than that, the circle who knows about them is very, very limited.
So when rumors fly that two very famous, very non-athletic people are wandering the Olympic village asking where the Russian skating team is staying, Yuri panics. They'd told him they were going to be watching, he hadn't thought they meant in person. He throws on his team jacket with the intent to find them and chase them away, but when he throws open his dorm's door, he's instead confronted with his best friend, who looks just as surprised to see him.
Yuri would like to die now. Otabek looks amazing, which isn't really any different from any other day (why is his best friend so perfect?), but he's got his hair slicked back, like he does for competitions, and he's in his heavy leather jacket. He has two helmets dangling from his left hand, the other raised like he was going to knock.
There's an awkward pause as they both try to sort themselves out, but Viktor interrupts it with a shout of a greeting from the second bed in their dorm and Yuri lands a hand on Otabek's chest (oh God, those muscles) and pushes him backwards so he can escape the room, pulling the door shut firmly behind them.
"Do you want-"
"Yes." Yuri snags a helmet and storms down the hallway.
"You didn't let me finish." He can hear the amusement in Otabek's voice.
"Doesn't matter, let's get out of here." He pulls on the hairstyle-destroying helmet before the elevator arrives. When Otabek outright laughs, Yuri elbows him in the gut and enjoys the wheeze of air that escapes.
Yuri forgets. Really, on some level, it's probably intentional. But he forgets until he checks his phone while they're at a cafe. There's a voicemail and 6 texts, one from Yakov and five from a number he has listed as Yulia. He ignores Yakov's out of habit and skims the others, zeroing in on the last message;
Dinner at seven. Wear something nice, darling.
He knows better than to ignore the message and he should really go find them both before dinner-or before Viktor finds them. Both are disasters waiting to happen.
"Is something wrong?" Otabek's warm voice breaks through his concentration.
He looks up, eyes instantly tracing the others lips before moving to meet the other's gaze. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and takes a long drink of his coffee, looking away. When he's gathered himself enough he finally looks back again, "No, sorry. Family things."
"Your grandfather?"
Yuri shakes his head, realizing he's never told Otabek about his parents. What would his parents say? He's never had friends before, would it be suspicious? And what if Otabek did one of his casual touches in front of them? Am arm around his shoulders, or touching his hand or any of the other things they always do that translate to comfort in their friendship. He knows his parents, his mother in particular, and he's not sure they would understand his relationship with his best friend.
He catches himself staring, turning the word 'friend' over and over in his head. He's turning 21 in a few weeks, he's not some hormonal teenager anymore, he's mature enough to know he's had a crush on Otabek for years. Literal years. Like, even longer than he really understood what he was feeling. But there's never been anything more, everything has stayed how it always has between them, casual, comfortable. He's never seen any hints from the other that maybe it would be worth pursuing.
Sure, when he'd first figured out what the fuck was wrong with himself, Yuri had done everything wrong; the giggling over stupid shit, the blushing, the avoidance. But he'd sorted himself out, eventually. He's able to make eye contact and not read anything more into when Otabek braids his hair for him or let's him nap on his shoulder. They're just that. Friends.
He's held the silence too long, he realizes. Otabek seems to know he's processing something and gives him time, doesn't react when Yuri physically shakes himself from the thoughts, "I have to meet some people for dinner tonight." He crosses his arms over his chest and tries not to pout, "I'm not looking forward to it. If I bail, Yakov will murder me in my sleep."
Otabek smiles, sips his tea, "Sponsors?"
"Something like that." He drains his own cup, then pushes himself to his feet, "I'm going to get another one."
Otabek should stop him, he's horrible with caffeine. He's already feeling the buzzing in his head, another one will string him even tighter. Otabek doesn't stop him. Yuri gets an extra shot of espresso added.
His stomach twists in knots while he waits, tapping his foot, leaning on the counter. Otabek isn't watching him, he's looking out the window, and Yuri knows he's essentially doomed. He knows no one will ever fill his chest with butterflies or push him to be better like Otabek does. Even if Otabek never returns his feelings, Yuri can't ignore the emotions that keep filling him.
The bells at the cafe door jingle and a pile of teenage girls come in, just as the barista passes him his drink. He spies cat ears on several heads and his daydreaming comes to a screeching halt. That would be their queue to go. He crosses back to their table just as he hears excited whispering.
"Beka." He pulls his own jacket from the back of his chair and shrugs it on, "Time to go."
"What?" Yuri must have interrupted Otabek's own deep thoughts, brown eyes give him a once-over then he turns in his seat to look around.
The excited whispers turn into high-pitched squeals, which spurs Otabek into action, rising way too calmly for Yuri's taste.
Yuri drains his coffee as fast as he can before grabbing Otabek's wrist and dragging him from the table just as he hears, "Yuuuur-"
The cafe door swings closed and mutes the rest of the cry.
He knew he was going to regret that coffee, the caffeine is burning through his veins and making him bounce on the balls of his feet in the parking lot. He's not sure what he's looking for, but he knows it'll find him eventually. He's not surprised that it's five minutes past the time she's late; they're probably lost in all honesty. The thought amuses him enough to keep him from being annoyed.
When the flashy white limousine pulls up is when the annoyance hits. He should have known they wouldn't be driving. When the door opens he slides in and slumps into the seat closest to the door.
"There you are!" Like he'd been the late one, "Oh, darling, look at you!" Yulia doesn't look like she's aged at all, her cheekbones high and perfectly contoured into her hairline. He got his hair from her, brilliant blonde, thick and long; for a moment he contemplated chopping it all off just out of spite. Maybe while at dinner with a steak knife. Her eyes are a dark blue and they glow as they take him in. He can see the moment her shoulders slump when she realizes he's not wearing designer...anything. He got their sense for fashion, but he also developed a sense for money-saving.
The other occupant looks more his actual age, his hair cut short and close to his head, dark with greying hair around his ears and down his sideburns. Yuri got his eyes from him and the two meet for a brief nod of heads before the older man is leaning to pick up a glass from the minibar to drink an amber liquid.
Yuri crosses a leg over a knee and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, "Mom, Dad. Are you enjoying Beijing?"
They take him to a stuffy restaurant, the type they love and the kind he hates. They're given a brightly lit table in the center of the main dining room and they stop to talk to people along the way, making the walk feel like it takes forty minutes instead of four. Yuri rolls his eyes and tries to disassociate himself from them.
At the table they order the most expensive bottle of wine, it's delivered promptly with three crystal-cut glasses. Yuri lifts an eyebrow and pushes the glass away, "I'm competing this week. And I don't like wine."
His mother scoffs, waves her hand at the sommelier to send him to Yuri's side., "Don't be silly, this is the best of the best, I'm amazed it's on their list. Just have a glass."
"No." He puts his hand over the top of the crystal to prevent any liquid from being poured in, "Water is fine."
His mother is about to protest when there's a commotion towards the front of the building, dragging her attention away. Yuri glances in the general direction, opening his menu, then pulls his eyes back down just as a familiar voice reaches his ears and causes him to look up again.
Entering the restaurant is none other than Jean-Jackass Leroy and the entire Leroy brood, his parents and million siblings included. It would be more of a sight to see to Yuri if he cared more about other skaters. JJ's wife was stuck back in Canada after a minor surgery, and JJ had announced his retirement after the season so he'd brought everyone he could fit in a private plane; his entire family apparently. Yuri covered a scowl by drinking some water, looking up just in time for JJ's blue eyes to connect with his. The Canadian grinned at him, then winked. Yuri inhaled, forgetting the water and promptly dragging it up his nose.
Russians cannot breathe with water in their nose. The last thing he saw before he thought he was going to die was JJ tipping his head back and laughing as he sank into a chair.
A hand drops onto his shoulder as he struggles through coughing to drag in an actual breath, his mother leaning in to look at him with concern, "Yuri? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the bathroom?"
Why the hell...he cuts that line of thought off and waves his hand at her, leaning away from her as he shakes his head, "Fine. I'm fine." He shoots a glare in JJ's direction but the Canadian isn't looking at them anymore. Okay, good, all the better. Just forget he's even there.
"Honey? Do you know them? Should we go say hi?" His mother gasps, "Are they your friend your grandfather's been telling me about?"
"What? No! They're competition." Yuri reaches for the menu again, trying to drag the dinner back on-track, he opens it before he freezes, "Grandpa's been telling you what?"
His mother pouts, but picks up her own menu, pretending to glance over it before she sets it down again, "You never tell us about anything! And all you ever post on your social accounts are pictures, never any stories or names! Come on, Yurochka!"
His father realizes his mother is on the edge of a fit and puts a hand out to cover hers, "Darling, Yuri is just as busy as we are. It's not something to get so worked up about." He hesitates and looks at his son, "Though it wouldn't hurt for you to answer your phone once in a while."
Yuri rolls his eyes and closes the menu, he'll just pick something at random when the waiter shows up, he's obviously not going to be given time to study it right now, "You guys do your thing, let me do mine. I'm too old to be bossed around, you lost that privilege years ago. Besides, I'm still bringing in medals, who cares what else is going on with me?"
"So," his mother leans forward, "Do you even do normal things? Things people your age normally do?"
His eyebrows dip low as he frowns at her, "What? Why would I tell you if I was?"
"Oh, Yurochka." He hates how that sounds coming out of her mouth, so disappointed. He waits for the condescending remark that's sure to follow, but instead her eyes light up, "You should come to Moscow after the games! I know you'll get some time off! Your grandfather would love to see you!" It's not a horrible idea, he actually relaxes his guard a little at the thought, "And I'd love for you to meet Anya."
And there's the catch. He throws the walls back up and stares at her.
"She's the most darling girl, her mother and I were in a movie together and we three do brunch every time we're in town together."
"What." She doesn't even notice the blankness in his expression. His father is still reading the menu and is actually nodding his head to her words.
"She's single and she's the sweetest girl. She exchanged in the US for a year, so she speaks almost perfect English, and she follows ice skating! She'd really love to meet you!"
"Mom."
"Honey, I'm just so worried about you, living alone in St Petersburg-"
"Mother."
"-and really, have you ever been on a date with someone before?"
"Mom!" He slams a hand on the table, rattling the silverware and getting her attention. Her eyes focus on him and widen when they realize he's glaring at her, "Mom, I love you."
"I love you, too, honey. If you would just-"
"But I really do not need your interference in my love life. I'm perfectly happy-"
"Are you, though? You know all your father and I want is for you to have the best. And really, I think you should just meet her once."
Shit. He realizes she's just going to keep talking over him until he agrees, like she's done with his father for the past 25 years of marriage. He looks to his father again, but he's not going to be any hope.
"I wouldn't be trying to do this if you'd had any sort of dating history, but the papers and your grandfather all say-"
"I've dated people before. Recently." Fuck. Why did he say that? He's never been on a date in his life, unless you count the outings he and Otabek take, which aren't really dates, as much as he desperately wishes they were. But she shuts up for two seconds.
"What? Who? Why doesn't your grandfather know about it?"
He panics, looks down at his hands. Well, he can tell one truth, anyway. He steels himself with a deep breath and looks up again, both parents watching him, "I'm gay."
His mother slumps back in her chair, "Oh. Well. That's…"
He's managed to silence her, at least, and it lasts through the main course. She orders tiramisu, just because his hell needs to drag out as long as fucking possible. After the minuscule dessert is dropped off at their table, she spoons up a bite, lifts it to her lips, then puts it back down, "You know, Andrei has a son that's gay. Maybe he could-"
And shit, he's back to square one with this. His mother is not going to let it drop. He rolls his eyes just as the Leroy table rises to leave and he's instantly envious of them.
"I don't need to be set up." He says before he can stop himself, "I'm dating someone. It's kind of serious." Open mouth, insert foot.
It's his father's turn to choke on food and his mother's fork clatters to the plate, "You are? Anyone we know? We should meet them. Oh, Yuri, why didn't you say so? Has your grandfather met them? Who is it?"
He opens his mouth to say Otabek's name. It's at the edge of his tongue. But he lifts his eyes at the exact wrong time and locks on to blue ones again. It's not Otabek's name that comes out of his mouth.