I've had this written for about a month but things have been crazy. I decided against sexy times in this chapter. Gonna build it up a bit more before getting to the good stuff!

Read. Rate. Review. Be jolly and enjoy bran flakes with almond milk.


Beka felt awful.

He was avoiding Yuri. After he lashed out at Yuri, he couldn't bear the guilt. Every time he looked at Yuri he could only see the shocked face he had made. When Yuri left the next morning, Beka had told him he would be busy for awhile. Yuri looked worried and asked him to text him when he should come over. After a week he began to receive texts asking about coming over, saying he wouldn't stay long. They began to get more frequent, asking if he was okay and where he was. His guilt built with every message.

He went out of his way to keep his mind off his actions. He changed his rink time so that they never met. He had never been fond of running before but now it was how he spent all his free time. If he didn't exhaust himself, he couldn't sleep. His bed still smelled like Yuri. He had put away all the little reminders, trying to ease his mind. It hadn't helped. He wandered around in a daze. Practice went as usual. It was one of the few times he could focus on something else. Yakov praised his technique but told him that he was boring to watch.

"You have no emotion. You're boring. No one will care when you make your jumps if you can't keep their attention," he growled in Russian before making him skate for an extra hour.

He was tired. He wasn't sleeping but more than anything, he was tired of trying to stay away from Yuri. He had given in to his greed to much, allowed himself too much freedom and progressed too quickly. He had let himself indulge. He needed to withdraw and accept that friendship was all Yuri could handle right now. Perhaps even, all he could handle right now. He sighed. He was just leaving the rink and it was late. He couldn't go home again knowing that it would be another empty night. He withdrew his phone from his jacket and texted Yuri a simple "Come over tomorrow".

When he got home he showered and smoked on the balcony. When he got inside he checked his phone. Yuri had texted back.

"I'm coming over now."

Otabek panicked silently. He dragged his hands over his face and through his hair. He could do this. They would fall back into their routine but he would minimize their contact. He would digress back to their original friendship. He went to his room to put on a shirt as he hadn't put one on after his shower. With Yuri out of this house for awhile he had no need to wear jeans to cover up... any arising problems that may occur. He should really change out of his joggers but it hardly seemed worth the effort. The risk of getting an erection was rather small if he resisted physical contact.

He pulled on a t-shirt, not noticing that it was the one Yuri had gotten him; white with a tiger on it. He went back outside to smoke another cigarette. He always smoked a little too much when he was stressed or thinking. He was outside on his third cigarette when Yuri came in. He looked tired too. His hair was in a messy bun on top of his head and his grey jeans were wrinkled. His hoodie was the only thing that didn't look rumpled. He had kicked his sneakers off at the door as usual, something he picked up in Japan.

He dropped on the couch and crossed his arms. Otabek finished his cigarette. He took a deep breath before going inside. Yuri stared at him. He sat on the opposite end of the couch, far away to avoid touching. He could smell Yuri from here. It smelled like home. Damn, he had missed him. Even mussed up and looking like he had just rolled out of bed, he was a vision of perfection.

"You look like shit."

Nice first greeting, Otabek thought immediately. He was a little grateful for the consistent attitude that Yuri presented. He could tell he had fucked up by the way Yuri had said it. It wasn't soft or joking. He reached for the remote and turned the tv on. He didn't want to admit he felt like shit, which is exactly what he would have done if he had responded. He didn't bother to change the channel. He leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. He crossed his legs and focused on the movie; some black and white romance.

Yuri got up and shut the living room light off. There was soft light coming in from the front hall. When Yuri sat on the couch again he was much closer. Otabek had to breathe through his mouth. Yuri had no idea what this was doing to him, the mental turmoil he was thrown into. He wanted to pull him close. He wanted to wrap his arms around his shoulders and bury his face in pale locks. Yuri's neck was incredibly close to his hand. His fingers flexed against the back of the couch.

He had confidence that he could do this; be with Yuri without being with Yuri. He had no choice. He had to regain his self-control or risk losing Yuri forever. Prior to his outburst, he would have pulled the blond into his body and let his hand rest on his shoulder. Instead, he was trying to focus on the movie. It wasn't working. The light from the screen cast alluring shadows on the planes of Yuri's face. He felt the coil of anxiety that had filled him slowly ebb. He was just happy to have the love of his life back in his life, in his home.

"You're staring," Yuri mumbled.

Otabek immediately stiffened. Fuck... he thought he had been discreet. He looked away slowly. He felt anxiety build within him again. Maybe he couldn't do this... Perhaps he had crossed the line and there was no going back. He withdrew his arm from the back of the couch. He needed air but it was probably too soon to be smoking again without worrying Yuri. He tried to make himself as small as possible and tucked himself into the corner of the couch. Yuri looked over at him, brow furrowed once more.

"What the hell is going on with you?" he hissed out.

Beka remained silent. He was tempted to say "nothing" but he knew it would just further Yuri's anger.

"Beka... please. You're being weird." Yuri's voice sounded strained.

Otabek looked to him and his heart clenched. Yuri's eyes were watery and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. He had never meant for this to happen! Yuri's happiness and comfort took priority in his life. He felt the weight of his outburst once more, the shame for his greed when it came to the blond, the monopolistic desires that drove him to hurt the surprisingly soft male in front of him.

"I... I'm sorry."

Yuri's temper flared. "For what!? For disappearing again, even though I asked you not to? For pulling away from me without telling me why? For driving me crazy with worry? What in the fuck are you sorry for!"

"I shouted," he said simply.

Yuri paused. He looked confused and then understanding was written on his face. He let out a short sharp laugh that was filled with disbelief before he began laughing in earnest. He scooted closer to Otabek and placed a hand on top of a clenched fist. The Kazakh watched him. His cheeks were flushed and he was staring at their hands.

"You don't have to be sorry about that. It was was kind of nice," he fumbled, "ya know, seeing you really angry. It was... intense." His voice was especially soft on the last word.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that." Beka barely got out. He wanted to growl and tell Yuri that he should never allow anyone to speak to him like that.

"If it were anyone else, I'd be pissed. But I was pushing you even though I could tell you were tired and agitated. I, uhmm, I kind of liked it."

Beka's brow rose.

"I just mean, I never get to see you like that!" He rushed out, cheeks burning red.

Otabek knew he shouldn't have, but his hand came up to touch a firey cheek. Yuri had forgiven him. He felt like he could soar now that the weight on his chest was lifted. He stroked Yuri's cheek before he pulled him into a firm hug. His arms wrapped around him tenderly. He practically pulled the blond into his lap. He breathed in his scent, felt the weight of him against his chest. He sighed in relief.

"You're too good," he said softly into his hair.

"You're the only one who thinks that," Yuri said playfully in a soft voice.

Beka shook his head and spoke in a low voice, hoping Yuri wouldn't hear him, "You're too good." For me was unspoken.

He pulled away and caressed Yuri's face with his thumbs and before he could stop himself, he was pulling his head down and pressing a kiss into pale locks. Yuri's eyes were wide and his face was about ten times darker when Otabek let him go. Green eyes looked away but he pressed himself into Beka's side and curled into him. They focused on the movie then.

Yuri fell asleep, as usual. Beka carried him to bed, tucked him in and kissed his own fingertips before pressing them to the sleeping man's forehead. He went back to the couch and got the best night of sleep he had in weeks.

It took a month before Otabek finally relaxed in Yuri's company again. Visits to the apartment had been spaced out the first 2 weeks but he was back to being over almost every day. He had refused 3 invitations to dinner with Yuri's grandfather and was about to refuse another. However, he hadn't anticipated how difficult it would be to do it in person versus via text.

They stood rink side. Beka had just finished a grueling but successful session with their coach and Yuri had only just arrived. He was beautiful as ever with his long blond locks pulled away from his face in a haphazard ponytail. He was wearing one of Beka's hoodies. The sight sent a wave of warmth through the older skater. They had been in a casual discussion about how routines were going until Yuri brought it up.

"Beka, Grandpa wants you to come to dinner tonight," Yuri said excitedly.

"No, thank you."

Yuri frowned. "Why not?"

"I'll stop and get something before I go home."

"Anything my grandfather makes is going to be so much better than anything you can buy!" Yuri said defensively.

He couldn't disagree. Anything Mr. Plisetsky made would be leaps and bounds better than anything he would get elsewhere. Still, he couldn't face seeing him at the moment. Beka was still trying to find new balance in their relationship. He had reigned in a lot of his behavior. There were no more long glances, he kept his hair ruffling to a minimum and he had altogether stopped trying to make Yuri purr. His hands twitched constantly with the desire to touch the blond but he knew himself. If he gave an inch, he would take a mile.

Otabek's reactions to the younger skater were like nothing he had ever experienced. He had always practiced moderation. He kept his cool. Until he met Yuri. He was the one thing Beka wanted to possess completely, the one thing that made him lose control. And it was effortless. Yuri had no idea what he was capable of doing to Otabek with a simple smile or eye roll in his direction. And while he tried not to show it outwardly, he was not made of steel. He knew his face softened when Yuri was by his side. He knew his eyes betrayed everything he felt. Which was exactly why he didn't want to have dinner with Yuri and his grandfather.

Yuri stepped closer to Otabek. His green eyes shining up at him as he pleaded, "Beka, please, for me?"

He looked up. He stared directly in to the light above them desperately trying to burn the image on Yuri begging out of his mind. Could he do it? Could he pretend that he wasn't ardently in love with his best friend in front of the most important person in Yuri's life? He looked down again. Yuri's face was openly hopeful. If he could be that open with him, then surely Beka could contain himself for endure dinner. For him.

He nodded silently. Suddenly, there were arms wrapped around his neck and Yuri was all around him.

"Thank you!"Yuri pulled back but his hands remained clasped behind the Kazakh's neck. "He'll be so glad to hear it. He's been pestering me for weeks. I think he's still worried... ya know, because you...disappeared for awhile," he trailed off.

And there it was, the familiar settling of shame and regret in his chest. He couldn't speak. He couldn't apologize again without confessing. He let his head fall and rested his forehead against Yuri's. He hoped his eyes conveyed a thousand apologies that he couldn't utter for his sake and for Yuri's. He didn't know what was worse, the way he had snapped at his best friend or the fact that he had pulled away. Either way, he was sure he had hurt Yuri. And knowing the blond, he turned to the person he trusted most; his grandfather.

When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, "It won't happen again."

And it wouldn't. He couldn't be away from Yuri like that ever again. He had been in absolute agony. He honestly couldn't remember how he had lived before Yuri had come into his life. Every day he got to see the eyes that had haunted him for years. Every day he was filled with contentment simply by having Yuri in his life. As long as Yuri would have him, Otabek would be there.

"Good. Because if you even try, I'll kick your ass," Yuri said with a cheeky grin.

Beka smiled back and laughed, his nose brushing against Yuri's, causing a small purr to emit. He closed his dark eyes and treasured the sound. It would probably be the last one he would ever get. He didn't see the heat in green eyes at the sound of his laughter, didn't see the flush in pale cheeks at the contact. He wasn't aware that his hands had gripped Yuri's hips until he pulled away.

Yuri looked away and began fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie. "I'll, uhm, I'm going to call Grandpa and let him know. Tonight?"

He hummed his approval and Yuri started to walk away to make the call. He stopped and whipped around, causing his ponytail to swish.

"You better not back out!" He shouted.

"Wouldn't dream of it," He called out softly.

Yuri's chest puffed up and he walked away with something like pep in his step. Beka fell for him all over again.

"I'm screwed," he said to himself before walking to the locker room for a very cold shower.


Beka's got a bit of a struggle going on but Yuri's POV next chapter.

Thank's so much for reading! Sorry for the delay.