Author's Notes: Thank you as always for your continued support. We need a mixture of humor, fluff and mayhem!
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Mishaps in Milan Part 1
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The trio do a final victory lap with flags draped across their shoulders. Yuri leads the way, with an actual smile as the fans roar in response. Viktor, hot on his heels, waves to those in the stands—while Otabek carries the rear, yet his stoicism may be cracking due to excitement.
Soon all three return to their coaching teams. Yuri and Otabek fist bump before going separate ways, and Viktor quickly embraces Katsuki before even putting on his skate guards. Yuri's eyes meet Yakov's as his former coach merely nods at the blond, shedding some of his gruff demeanor, and Yuri can't help but spare a small smile. He exits the ice as Lilia passes him his skate guards and Sergei shares the commemorative photos he's taken on his phone.
Before heading toward the locker room the new team shares a few words.
"I've got to head back to Moscow after the press conference tomorrow morning," informs his coach, "juniors start on Monday."
Yuri's eyes widen as Sergei's hands cup his shoulders, "Kid, you were amazing today."
The stands are emptying out and the other skaters have disappeared as his coach continues, "When you get back to Moscow next week, let me know your tutoring schedule and we'll get your offseason hours slated."
"Aa…" dumbly replies the blond with the nod of his head.
NNN
Yuri follows behind his coaching staff and stops upon hearing someone yell his name.
"Huh?"
Emerald eyes widen as he detects the voice coming from above, and his eyes settle on the small figure of a brunette with brown eyes leaning over the railing and waving a tiger plush in his direction.
"Yuri…Yuri…" she eagerly waves the toy as her mother smiles apologetically.
"Aa…" the tiger responds, his eyes softening a bit at her enthusiasm.
The little girl's grin widens in excitement, for as he reaches toward the tiger, the Russian has taken a white carnation from the bouquet in hand and offers it as a fair trade.
Needless to say neither the cameras nor Yuri's Angels, (as evidenced by the squeals and flashing of bulbs), miss this. The blond has probably unknowingly just recruited a future angel.
NNN
By the time Yuri makes it to the locker room, he's been bombarded by the usual sincere and obligatory insincere well-wishers along the way. Sergei offered to take Lilia to dinner, and Yuri promised the prima that he could find his way back to the hotel without causing an international crisis.
He closes the door of his locker and sees the Kazakh standing nearby and smirks.
"We fucking did it," observes the blond, his emerald eyes shining with mirth as his gloved hand plays with the black bowtie around the brunette's collar, "You were seriously great today, Otaya."
Brown eyes soften in response, taking in those infamous emerald eyes, "We kicked ass. You kicked everyone's ass though."
Yuri gives the bow tie one more tug and grins, "I told you, we're fucking amazing."
Before the blond can fully distance himself from the Kazakh, he leans forward and catches Yuri's face in his hands and captures his lips.
Upon feeling the younger teen respond, Otabek affirms that loving the Russian Ice Tiger is right up there with medaling in competition.
NNN
He lets himself in after a soft knock, Yuri's spare room key in hand. His eyes fall on the blond, lying on his back on the room's bed and talking on the phone. The blond has his arm draped across his eyes, his blue hoodie unzipped and revealing a black tank top, his typical black skinny jeans and white socks covering the telltale signs of battle his feet have endured.
"Da, Dedushka…" he replies into the phone with a tone he rarely shows to anyone, before hanging up.
Otabek sits on the end of the bed, wearing his usual leather jacket and a gray sweater, for it's still cool this time of the year. "You alright?"
"Aa…" informs the blond, as he slowly drags his arm away from his face, and opens his eyes with a smile forming at the corners of his lips, "Dedushka, said he was really proud."
A moment of silence passes between them.
"Did you talk to your family?"
Otabek's brown eyes soften, "Yeah…"
"Were they happy?" prompts the blond, his ocean eyes gaging his friend's expression.
The Kazakh, not one for easily accepting compliments, nods. "They were pleased."
"They should be," announces Yuri, sprawled out on the bed with a grin, "But Otaya," his tone is serious, "you don't have to carry the weight of your country all the time. Just skate for yourself once in a while, because I think you're fucking cool when you do."
And the brunette can feel the blush creeping from his neck to his face and he has to look away to retain some of his dignity.
NNN
They had spent the early evening at one of the many cafés in the Naviglio District. The streetlamps in amongst the tall building lined area were burning, giving off an eerie glow in contrast to the setting sun and the darkening sky above, which reflected in the water over the canal system.
The pair stood on the arched bridge, Yuri with phone in hand, had his arm wrapped around Otabek's shoulders as he grinned before taking a selfie. The Kazakh soon stared at the screen of the cell phone. It was a good picture—he'd even managed a small smile. It was hard not to be happy around the energetic blond.
There were so many moments that he was fortunate enough to have with Yuri. Hidden moments that Yuri didn't show to many; he supposed they really were alike because the blond was usually quick to state that Otabek really wasn't as stoic as he appeared—they just didn't associate with shitheads.
Yuri turned, looking down at the water in the canal, the wind gently blowing the ends of his hair. The younger teen hardly ever went anywhere without sporting a hoodie—he almost always hid behind the fabric, a stark comparison to how he was on ice versus off. His hood down, and the lights from the lamps dancing across his features, made Otabek's heart race.
The last time they had been on a bridge had been in Hasetsu.
The Kazakh wasn't aware that Yuri was gazing at their reflections in the pool below. The Russian wasn't sure why being with Otabek felt this way—comfortable. Outside of his grandfather, Yuri never felt this way, because people never stayed. Yet no one had ever asked to be his friend, so that made Otabek unlike most people.
He caught the soft smile on his best friend's face, as it shown in the water's reflection, as he leaned against the side of the bridge. This felt vaguely like Hasetsu. Before Otabek's confession, how had Yuri thought of the Kazakh? He was the greatest friend Yuri could have hoped for, yet the thought of him finding someone else to spend all of his time with, had lingered on the Russian's mind. They were complete opposites, he realized, one light in complexion, with pale eyes, the other bronzed with dark eyes.
This. Them. Could they really continue as they are? It wouldn't just all go to hell would it?
A small boat neared the pair, distorting their reflection with its light rippling—what had been stable had just so easily come undone before their very eyes.
"Yuri?" Otabek's tone was more forceful than normal, as it jarred the blond from his thoughts.
"What?" he absentmindedly replies to the voice invading his thoughts.
The Kazakh was leaning against the rail of the bridge, searching the Russian's face with furrowed brows.
"Are you alright?" he questions, bumping his elbow against his companion's, "Where'd you go?"
"Aa. I was just thinking this reminded me of Hasetsu," the younger teen honestly admits.
Otabek looks down, already feeling the faint blush etching across his cheeks in the dimly lit area, "I was thinking the same thing."
Yuri tilts his head, eyes expressive and blunt as always, "Do you ever regret it?"
The brunette's forehead wrinkles in consternation, as he sighs, "Are you sorry I said anything?"
Yuri's fingers tighten around the rail of the bridge as he gives Otabek his full attention, "Huh?"
"Everything changed. We changed is all…" sincerely states the Kazakh, averting his eyes to look upward at the fading pink hues of the sunset.
"We did," softly agrees Yuri, his gaze lingering on his companion, taking in the collected expression on his face. Yet the Russian knows him well, he can see the way his breathing slows and the prominent swallow as Otabek stands there.
The brunette's features hold a hint of nervousness and it makes Yuri wonder what would happen if Otabek was no longer around.
"I've never had anyone who wanted me before," his honesty fills the small space between them, "not like you," he quietly admits and shifts his gaze toward the water, "…so as long as you do, I won't let you go either…"
Otabek can feel his heart swell, because he's so in love with Yuri Plisetsky.
NNN
Yuri is busy peeking into a lit shop window, as music wafts through the air. This district is full of life, and the streets are a tourist's paradise, having been brought to the city by the competition. Otabek's disappeared into a shop to grab them each a chai.
While in line Otabek hears a familiar voice and inwardly sighs. He'd know that voice anywhere…it was an everyday occurrence back when he trained in Canada. The slap on his shoulder verifies that he's been seen by Canada's own self-declared King of the Ice.
He'd love to grab his drinks and ignore JJ but that's kind of impossible when the Canadian decides to strike up a conversation. JJ's observant…
"Hey, congrats on the Bronze. Wait…two drinks?" he cheekily questions with a grin, "You on a date? Isabella is outside, we can go double if you want to see the sites?"
Somehow Otabek's managed to get JJ's arm wrapped around his shoulders in the time it's taken to retrieve the cups from the barista. Yeah, he seriously can't picture how a double date with Yuri and JJ in the same 5 mile radius would ever work. Not that he was crazy enough to ascertain such an idea.
With a look of stoicism, he politely declines the invitation. Yet like a leech, the Canadian refuses to relent.
"Are you with a skater?" JJ prods, reaching forward to grab the first drink made ready at the counter, "Or did you meet someone here?"
Even when he was in Canada, they'd never been chummy. Otabek wasn't rude, since the Leroys were good enough to house him, but hanging out with that brood—anymore than necessary—hadn't been high on his list. Jesus, if he couldn't shake JJ, the Kazakh could only imagine Yuri's reaction. He was pretty sure the blond would just leave him there in the middle of the city and hoof it back to the hotel alone.
"I'm with Yuri," is Otabek's straight-to-the-point answer.
JJ arches an eyebrow, and with a disappointed sigh, "Oh. Well that's not as fun as a date…"
Says you.
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When Otabek manages to get past JJ and out the door he looks around to find that the street is darker, with crowds of people, but the Russian isn't in sight. A frown appears on his face, perhaps Yuri really had seen JJ in the coffee shop and made a beeline for the hotel?
It would take him a moment to find a spot to set down the drinks in hand and fish out his cellphone from his jacket pocket. No new messages. Between the smell of various foods and the different styled music wafting in and out of the nearby establishments, it takes the Kazakh a moment to get his bearings.
Soon he feels a hand on his shoulder and cringes, believing that JJ has once again latched onto him. The brunette turns to find his favorite emerald eyed Russian and lets out a sigh of relief.
Dodged a bullet that time.
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"What's the bear for?" asks Otabek while gesturing toward the strategically placed bear lying in the middle of the bed as they prepare to watch movies.
"Security," flatly remarks Yuri, looking up from his phone, his thumb hovering mid scroll.
The Kazakh furrows his brows and manages an inquisitive look—no small feat for one who is normally so stoic.
As if reading his mind, the blond elaborates, "Hasetsu…you thought I was your stuffed animal or some shit."
The brunette goes to scoff, yet Yuri soon turns the screen of his phone, and exhibits the incriminating evidence. Otabek feels his face heat up, and the Russian's Cheshire Cat grin lets him know that he is definitely sporting a blush.
"Oh my God…" he deadpans, "You kept that?"
Yuri shrugs his shoulders, "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't keep photos for blackmail?"
A moment passes.
"A decent one?" observes the older teen with a smirk.
"Remember, asshole," offhandedly remarks the emerald eyed boy, "you're the one who asked me for my friendship."
The Kazakh notes how unapologetic the blond looks and sighs, "Had I known you were such a little shit…"
Yuri occupies the spot on the bed next to him, lying on his stomach, and resting his chin in hand, "You know, I may be taller than you some day," he taunts, "then you'll have to come up with a better insult."
Although both know that there's nothing behind their name calling other than affection—and the occasional spat.
The older teen absentmindedly pushes blond bangs away from the Russian's face and tucks them behind his ear.
"Yeah, some day..."
Another moment passes between them…
"There," he murmurs, letting his fingers linger near Yuri's ear, "Now I can see you rolling your eyes at me."
He leans forward in anticipation…
And kisses a…
Pair of…
Fuzzy
Lips?
The Russian is heard snorting as he smooshes the bear against Otabek's face.
One plush bear,
A shitty sense of humor,
And the expression on your best friend's face…
Priceless.
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"Yuri?" He's disoriented and his voice is laced with sleep as he shields his eyes with the back of his hand from the brightly lit phone in Yuri's hand.
"Fuck. Prosti…"
Otabek's uncertain to why the Russian is apologizing, but even his sleep ridden brain registers that the blond's voice sounds strained.
"…What's wrong?" The Kazakh's mind urges him to ask, sparing a glance at the red numbers of the digital clock, through the slits of his fingers.
"Just go back to sleep…" mumbles the younger boy, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his hoodie before standing.
Otabek feels the mattress rise as Yuri's weight leaves it and questions, "Yura?"
He sits up in bed and can already feel the room's cool temperature creating goosebumps on his exposed arms. Brown eyes watch as the boy moves around quietly, using his phone as a flashlight, and it registers in Otabek's mind that he must be looking for his sneakers.
"My fucking head hurts…"
The mumbled words hit a nerve…
"I'll talk to you tomorrow…"
The Russian announces his departure and heads toward the door.
He nearly yells out an expletive as warm arms capture him from behind.
"Oi, what are you doing?!" comes the angry whisper from the blond as he awaits his captor's answer.
The Kazakh isn't exactly sure what compelled him, and his sleep lagged mind, can come up with no better reasoning than a whispered,
"Don't go."
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"Does your head hurt often, Yura?"
The words linger between them awaiting a response.
"Aa..." is the honest reply, "mostly when I'm tired…"
Yesterday had been taxing on their bodies…
"Is this alright," the Kazakh whispers, asking for consent.
"It's fine…" affirms the tired voice of the blond.
They occupy the bed, having turned on one of the small lamps, which creates a subtle glow and elongates their shadows across the wall as they sit cross legged.
The blond sits in front of his companion, facing forward and his back to the Kazakh. His hoodie haphazardly falling off his shoulders as gentle hands massage his neck. Yuri has placed his hair in a loose pony tail, and sits quietly before the brunette, whose fingers move to the base of his companion's head.
It's the most intimate they have ever been and the fact does not go unnoticed as Otabek quietly swallows, his fingers gently working through the knots in Yuri's neck. It's a true testament of trust. Yuri, who doesn't allow for anyone to touch him like this. Yuri, who doesn't realize that he's become such an integral piece of the Kazakh's life.
There are many different types of love…
He closes his eyes, remembering the words his grandmother once spoke.
Sometimes Beka, love stems from admiration…
Yuri Plisetsky had the eyes of a soldier at that summer camp.
And sometimes we're lucky enough to have it blossom…
Yuri Plisetsky had shaken his hand in Barcelona—an acceptance of his friendship.
But you know what the best kind of love is, Beka?
He can see his former self occupying a chair in his grandmother's living room—looking stoic and bored as hell, because what thirteen year old boy wants to learn about love? She'd poked him playfully, her brown eyes holding a glint of amusement.
The kind that makes you happy by just being near them.
His mouth is dry as he runs his tongue across his lips because he finally understands his grandmother's words,
"Yura?"
Otabek's not certain that the word has left his mouth until he hears,
"Hmm?"
"Is your head feeling better?"
His fingers stop their ministrations, feeling the softness of blond hair brushing against the back of his hand.
"Aa…"
The brunette wants to say, I'm glad you're here, but that's lame as fuck. In fact most of the ideas popping into his mind are far from cool.
When Yuri turns his head and fixes his gaze on the Kazakh, both emerald eyes are visible and they cause for Otabek's breath to hitch.
"Spasibo, Otaya," he states with a tired grin.
Otabek's eyes soften because it is he who feels thankful.
NNN
Press releases sucked. In fact, Yuri was certain they sucked even more when they were scheduled early morning. They at least had a fun day planned before tonight's banquet.
Yuri currently occupied a seat at a long table with a white linen table cloth, with Otabek to his left and Viktor to his right, each sporting their official jackets and medals. Their coaches were dealing with another branch of the media and fielding questions.
"Aa," began the blond answering the American journalist's question, "I am happy to bring gold home. Yes, I am enjoying my new coach."
Otabek looked at Yuri out of the corner of his eye as camera bulbs flashed. He had another lame as fuck idea, and that was how Yuri's English sounded cute. He scowled, cute was a Viktor and Katsuki term…and they had both decided that there could only be one sappy couple in this circuit.
"Well, I obviously did not get gold," announced Viktor, he too was answering a reporter in English, and listened to the laughter fill the room, "But if I had to lose, then I'm glad it was to Yuri."
Yuri gave Viktor the side eye and tried to keep his smile in place, even if he did think that Viktor was an idiot.
"Of course, I am glad I could bring a medal home to Kazakhstan," informed Otabek. While he hadn't grown any fonder of press conferences, having Yuri with him made the situation less troublesome.
Soon the flashing bulbs resumed as the trio stood, holding their medals up for the good of the occasion before being ushered out through the back of the room and into the corridor.
"You two are coming right?" questioned the older Russian with a genuine smile.
"Yeah, we'll be there," informed the blond, pulling the hair tie and letting his hair fall back in front of his face.
NNN
A group of skaters had been invited to check out the ski lodge which offered snowboarding and sledding too.
Yuri looked down, occupying a seat on the ski lift next to Otabek. In the seat ahead of them was Viktor and Katsuki. Apparently Katsuki was perfectly content with his eyes closed, his voice holding his apprehension as he spoke in English,
"No! No! Everything's alright!"
Yuri and his companion shared a knowing look. Everything was definitely not alright as Katsuki waved his hands frantically—obviously the Japanese man was afraid of heights.
Behind them were the eager voices of Leo and Guang, taking pictures of everything in sight.
"Otabek? Yuri?" Leo called to the pair up ahead.
The couple turned toward the awaiting camera phones.
"Smile!" happily requested Guang with a grin; his grin widened as they obliged.
Yuri turned facing forward once again, a frown graced his features as the voice of one annoying Canadian rang out from a few seats ahead of the lift line.
"Shithead's going to cause an avalanche if he keeps yelling like that…" he grumbled.
Otabek smirked, envisioning JJ yelling, 'It's JJ Style!' as the reverberation rang out and the snow caved in around them.
"Are you going to ski or snowboard, Otabek?" questioned his companion, Yuri's boot covered feet dangling as he glanced at the distance below.
"Whatever you do is fine," honestly remarked the Kazakh, following suit and looking downward at the snow covered trails below.
"Let's go snowboarding," offered Yuri, the antics from Viktor's chair catching his attention.
The Russian was moving this way and that way, leaning here and there, which caused the chair to swing. Viktor was busy remarking about the beautiful view…much to the recognizable dismay of his companion.
"Viktooooooor!" Katsuki was practically begging, "S-Stop!"
"Poor Katsudon," mumbled Yuri as he watched the Japanese man's pleas go unanswered, "Probably imaging plummeting to his death with that idiot."
"If the line snaps," the brunette remarked, a matter-of-factly, "He's taking us with him."
Yuri roared, "Oi! Viktor knock it off! Buta's going to piss his pants!"
It was probably more for his own benefit than Katsuki's, but Viktor did cease his antics. Yuri let out a sigh of relief, he had leaned forward during his scolding and his hand had found Otabek's knee.
"Aa…prosti…" he apologized.
"Don't be," the Kazakh informed, his glove covered hand settling on the back of his best friend's, as he threaded his fingers through Yuri's.
The lift continued to climb higher heading toward its destination as Viktor's sing song voice rang out,
"Oh, would you look at that," he announced, holding onto his Yuuri and pointing below.
"No…I'm good…" was the response beside him, voice laced with apprehension.
The blond's fingers tightened around the older teen's, watching as a skier took a dive below.
"Maybe that will happen to JJ?" He sounded rather hopeful.
Otabek really loved Yuri's shitty sense of humor.
NNN
"Come on my little snow bunny…" eagerly coaxed Viktor with a lovesick smile.
Viktor and Katsuki who were standing on skis with poles in hand, waved as Yuri and Otabek came into view.
"Yurio!" the pair happily greeted the teen, who was headed for the approaching slope, causing the blond to roll his eyes in response.
"Morons…" grumbled Yuri as he hit the slope with the Kazakh on his tail.
"How's your knee?!" He raised his voice to be heard, knees bent and hand coming down to steady himself as he looked toward his companion.
"Good!" confirmed the brunette, feeling the snow crunch under the board as their speed increased.
They both wore sunglasses, the wind whipping past them; however, something other than the sounds of the groaning snow under their weight and the whistling wind entered their ears.
"Viktooooooor!"
Yuri turned before crying, "HUH?!"
The look on his face was enough to signal the train wreck which was coming…
Both narrowly managed to escape, as Katsudon cried out—arms flailing with no poles in hand, sailing past the two.
"Wow! Amazing!" cheered Viktor, passing the two teens, who had skidded to a halt.
"They're both idiots…" ascertained the blond, his sunglasses balanced at the end of his nose and emerald eyes harboring his disbelief.
Otabek merely sighed, watching as Katsuki veered off the trail headed into the woods…
"Yuuri! Wait for me!" Viktor's voice carried from below.
Over the sounds of breaking brush which caused the pair to grimace.
NNN
They'd returned the snowboards and stopped in at the lodge to warm up. Leo and Guang occupied a couple of seats, phones out and comparing photos from their trip thus far.
Yuri's phone vibrated, taking it from his pocket as Otabek returned with mugs in hand.
"Spasibo…" he distractedly said, taking the offered drink.
The brunette sat on the cushion next to the Russian on the love seat and glanced toward the lit screen of the phone.
Guang had shared the picture taken on the lift. Yuri looked toward Otabek for approval. It was a good picture, the mountain in the background and both had actually smiled. The Kazakh nodded and took a sip of his cocoa.
Katsuki and Viktor were in another corner of the lodge. Viktor fawning over the Japanese man who had managed to have an eventful cross country ski. In another corner of the room was JJ with his fiancée, discussing something animatedly.
Otabek felt Yuri shift, leaning closer to him as he held his cup in hand.
"You okay?" he questioned, fighting the urge to wrap his arm around the blond's shoulders.
"Aa," replied the Russian, who perhaps subconsciously was aware that they only had a few more days to spend together before the offseason.
Yet the brunette was fully aware of this as he watched Yuri sip his cocoa.
Being in love with Yuri Plisetsky was becoming rather complicated as far as his heart was concerned…
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Please review if you have a moment. Your comments are always appreciated. Stay tuned for the next part.