Chapter 3
"Yura, wakey-wakey!"
"What the fuck?"
Yuri groggily sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Mila and Otabek, already dressed, were standing at the end of his bed, Mila reaching down to tickle the foot sticking out from underneath the blanket. "What the hell are you two doing here?" he asked, kicking her hand away and feeling around the mattress for his phone. "Do you know what time – Oh."
It was already well after ten. Jet lag after spending the past few weeks touring the United States as a special guest on Stars On Icewas apparently still kicking his ass, even though he had been home for a couple of days already.
"I've decided today's the day," Mila said.
"The day for what?"
"The day I announce my pregnancy. I'm officially three months along. The risk of miscarriage is much lower now, and I'm starting to show, so Beka and I decided it was about time to tell everyone."
"Cool. Congrats," Yuri mumbled, falling back on his pillow. He could barely keep his eyes open, starting to drift back to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
"Yura!" Mila pulled his blanket off of him. "Come on, get up!"
"Why?" he groaned, propping himself back up as he glared at her. "I'm tired. Let me sleep, hag."
"You're never going to get back on St. Petersburg time if you sleep all day," she said. "Besides, we need you to take a picture of us for Instagram."
"Fine." He reached again for his discarded phone and held it up to Mila and Otabek. "Say 'cheese'."
"Not here, idiot. The lighting's terrible. We're going outside. It's a beautiful day today, so wake up and get dressed."
"Beka…"
So far Otabek had yet to say a word, but he shrugged when Yuri looked over at him. "She does have a point about not sleeping all day, you know," he said. "We'll take you out for brunch afterwards?"
Yuri sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Okay, okay, let me take a shower first, then I'll take your damn picture."
By the time he took a hot shower, dressed, and prepared himself a thermos full of coffee, Yuri was mostly awake. Well, half-awake, at least.
"Where's Mila?" he asked Otabek, who was sitting on the couch, dangling a fishing pole toy over Potya's head as the cat swatted at the rainbow-hued fish.
"She went to change clothes again."
"What do you mean 'again'? How many times has it been?"
"Three…no, I think this is the fourth time. I keep telling her she looks beautiful, but I think she's feeling self-conscious about her weight gain."
Yuri rolled his eyes, chugging down his coffee. If she was going to make him wait, the least she could have done was let him sleep a few minutes longer.
Mila returned to Yuri's apartment a short time later, dressed in a simple white sundress and strappy sandals, a pretty pink flower barrette pinned above her left ear, showing off a little of her undercut. It was a very different look from the baggy sweats (mostly borrowed from Otabek) she'd been living in for the past month out of paranoia of gossip spreading before she made the announcement – not that it had stopped the rumors, anyway. "Do I look okay in this?" she asked, smoothing a few non-existent wrinkles out of her dress.
Otabek set down the cat toy and stood, smiling as he walked over to her. "You look gorgeous, Milasha," he said, kissing her temple and bringing a hand to the tiny bump outlined through the fabric. "Right, Yura?"
"Uh, yeah, you look nice," Yuri said, glancing away and pretending to check the messages on his phone. Since he'd been out of the country on tour for most of the past month, it was the first time he had really seen Mila's new figure. "Come on, let's go. I'm hungry. The faster I take this picture, the sooner we can eat."
He brushed past them as he exited the apartment, Mila and Otabek following after him.
Mila decided a nearby pedestrian bridge extending over the canal would provide the best backdrop for the picture. Luckily, as it was a weekday and most people were at work, there weren't many people around. Yuri took his spot on the right side of the bridge, leaning back against the railing while Mila and Otabek hashed out the details.
"How about I just take a photo of you instead?" Otabek suggested, his dislike of having his picture taken well known. "Is it really necessary for me to be in it, too?"
"Please, Beka. It's just one picture. You promised. Besides, we already dragged Yura out of bed for this."
"But – "
"If you do, I'll..." The rest she whispered in Otabek's ear, much to Yuri's relief. Judging by the look on Otabek's face, the less he heard, the better.
"Hey, are we gonna do this, or not?" Yuri asked, not caring either way if it was him or Otabek who took the picture as long as he still got treated to brunch.
Mila raised an eyebrow at Otabek, who sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, okay. What do you want me to do?"
She moved Otabek to the spot where she wanted him to stand while Yuri pulled his phone back out of his pocket. "Stand over he— Wait, Yura, not with your phone," she said, digging around in the tote she had brought along.
Yuri rolled his eyes. "Does it really matter whose phone we use? We all have the same model. I can send you the pics later."
"Yeah, but I want you to use this instead." She pulled out a camera and handed it to Yuri.
Yuri recognized it as one of Otabek's fancy digital cameras. A couple of years ago, he'd taken up an interest in photography, discovering that while he disliked having his photo taken, he actually enjoyed being the one behind the lens. He was pretty good at it, too, having entered a few photography contests at Yuri's and Mila's urging. He hadn't won anything yet, but one of his photos had been chosen as a finalist in the last competition he had entered.
"What the hell? Mila, is this really necessary?" Yuri hit a button at random, snapping a blurry, off-center pic of Mila's sandals. "How do you even work this damn thing?" He was a pro at taking selfies with his phone, but this was beyond his expertise.
Otabek walked over, taking the camera from Yuri's hands. "Here, let me fiddle with the settings first…" He went through the menus with practiced ease, making the adjustments he needed, then took a practice shot of Yuri's annoyed face. "Yeah, that looks good. So, I have it set to autofocus, so all you need to do is press the shutter when you're ready to take the picture. If you decide the picture is no good, you can hit this button to delete it, otherwise, it'll automatically save and you're ready to take the next one. Got it?" he asked, handing the camera back.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't blame me if these look like crap, though."
"Yura, you'll do fine," Mila said, taking Otabek by the arm and leading him back to where he was standing before.
"Okay, how should we pose?" Otabek asked Mila, who was tapping her finger against her chin in thought.
"Hmm, maybe you can kneel down in front of me and kiss my belly?"
Yuri stuck a finger in his mouth, pretending to gag. "Veto! I'm not taking any gross pictures."
"Fine. Let's just take a bunch of pics, and then I'll use the best one. Yura, you ready?"
"Yeah. Let's just get this over with already." He was hungry and still tired from the jetlag, despite the coffee he had guzzled down.
Yuri brought the camera up to his face and began taking pictures as Mila and Otabek went through various poses.
There was a reason why Otabek's Instagram was mostly filled with pictures of Mila, Yuri, and Potya, with the occasional pretty landscape or training video. Despite being a good-looking guy, Otabek was not the most photogenic, looking more like he was in pain whenever he forced himself to smile for the camera. It was even more evident when compared to Mila, who practically glowed. The camera loved her. Yuri ended up deleting more pictures than he saved, but even the ones he kept were just borderline acceptable at best.
"Okay, that should be enough," Mila said after a few minutes. "Did you get some good ones, Yura?"
"Uh…" He tried to think of something nice to say, not wanting to hurt Otabek's feelings. "You look really pretty in them?"
"Aw, that's sweet! Weird to hear you say, but sweet. Let me see." She took the camera from Yuri's hands and began swiping through the roll of pictures he had taken. "Oh…um…"
Otabek covered his face with his hand, already knowing the problem without even seeing the photos. "You two know I look horrible in photographs. This is why you should have let me take your picture like I suggested."
"You can take all the pictures of me you want later tonight, just like I promised."
"Oh, gross," Yuri said, realizing what she was implying. "I did not need to know that."
"Sorry, Yura." She continued looking through the photos. "Anyway, you don't look that horrible… Okay, that one's pretty bad. And that one. And th—"
Walking over, Otabek snatched the camera out of her hand. "They're all bad. I know, I know. Can I erase them now?"
"No, wait, that one was actually kind of nice!"
"Really?" Yuri didn't recall taking any especially good photos. He and Mila looked over Otabek's shoulders at the picture on the viewer. "Hey, you're right. That one's not bad at all."
Unlike most of the other photos, it was a candid, taken during a break when Yuri had to stop and pull his hair back into a ponytail because his bangs kept falling in his face. Otabek had his arm casually slung over Mila's shoulder, his face turned mostly away from the camera as he kissed the top of a giggling Mila's head, while Mila's hand was on her stomach, subtly drawing attention to the small swell of her belly. Though the picture itself was off-center, Yuri having taken it on impulse, that was easily fixed with some simple cropping.
"Yeah, I've decided," she said, taking the camera from Otabek. "That's the picture I'm going to use for my retirement an—" Her voice unexpectedly cracking, Mila covered her mouth with her hand.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Mirroring the photo, Otabek again wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her hair.
Mila shook her head. "Sorry, stupid hormones." Swiping a hand across her cheek, she pulled away from his embrace. "Um… You know, I'm not feeling very hungry at the moment. Why don't you and Yura go out for brunch without me?"
"Milasha…"
She forced a weak smile. "I'm fine, really. Just feeling a little nauseous. Go on, have fun."
She kissed Otabek chastely on the cheek then headed back to their apartment building, Otabek frowning as he watched her walk away. Yuri came up beside him, crossing his arms.
"Shouldn't you go after her? She seemed pretty upset."
"Would you mind?" Otabek asked, glancing over at him. "I know we promised you brunch…"
"I'll take a rain check," Yuri said, giving him a light shove forward. "Go. She needs you."
"Thanks."
Though tempted to go back to his apartment and climb back into bed, Yuri resisted the urge, knowing that it really was best to stay awake and try to get readjusted to St. Petersburg time. Besides, his stomach was growling with hunger, so he walked to a nearby café.
He, Otabek, and Mila were semi-regulars. The food wasn't the greatest and the coffee, quite frankly, sucked, but it was rarely busy, meaning they could usually eat in peace without being hounded for autographs and selfies. When he arrived, he was the only customer, so he had his pick of tables. He chose one in the back, sliding into the booth as the waitress came over to take his order.
"Just you today?" Maria, the daughter of the café's owners, asked, pulling a pad and pencil from her apron.
"Yeah. I'll have the usual."
She scribbled the order down and smiled. "Okay, I'll have that out for you right away."
While he waited for his food, Yuri pulled out his phone, checking his Twitter feed first before switching over to the Instagram app. The single good photo of Mila and Otabek he had taken was one of the first to load, accompanied by Mila's retirement message:
Yes, the rumors are true. I'm officially retiring from competitive skating. I want to thank you fans for all your support over the years. It means so much to me that I was able to touch your hearts in some way. It was never all about the medals for me – although the medals were pretty nice! I loved sharing my skating with you all, and I hope to see you again on the ice in some capacity. I also want to thank my long-time coach, Yakov Feltsman, all the wonderful choreographers I've had the honor of working with over the years, and the incredible friends I've made along the way, especially Yura and Sara. You two are the best friends a girl could ask for! Above all, I want to thank Otabek Altin – my partner, my lover, and the father of my child. I love you so much, Beka, and I can't wait to start the next chapter of our lives together. (Photo courtesy of yuri_plisetsky)
Even though it had only been posted a few minutes ago, it already had over two hundred "likes", and messages were pouring in from fans and other skaters alike, mourning her retirement but congratulating Mila on her pregnancy. Yuri tapped on the "like" button as well, but froze when it came to writing a comment, unsure of what to say.
He wished he could say nothing. The "like" alone would be enough for a normal person, but he wasn't a normal person. He was Yuri Nikolayevich Plisetsky, the gold-medal winning Ice Tiger of Russia with over a million followers and counting. With that came the expectation that of course he would comment on something as huge and momentous as his queerplatonic partner having a baby with his romantic partner. To ignore it would only spark rumors that he was unhappy with the pregnancy announcement, that he and Otabek were breaking up… He knew how fast the rumor mill worked amongst his "Angels", and the last thing he wanted was for them to start attacking Otabek and Mila out of some misguided – but perhaps not altogether unfounded – belief that they had broken his heart.
He was still staring blankly at the screen when Maria returned to his booth, setting a plate of blinis topped with salmon and sour cream in front of him. Startled by her sudden appearance, Yuri jumped, putting his phone aside while still open to Mila's post.
Maria smiled, nodding toward the phone. "I just saw that picture, too," she said. "It's wonderful news! Not about Mila retiring, of course, but a baby! You three must be so excited, huh?"
Yuri never realized Maria knew so much about their personal lives, although he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. After all, they were three successful athletes who regularly patronized her family's rundown café; anyone would be curious. "Y-Yeah, it's great," he said, reaching for a fork. "Beka and Mila are really happy about it."
If Maria took note that he didn't include himself, she didn't show it. "Well, tell them 'congratulations' for me," she said, casually touching his shoulder as she headed back to the kitchen, "and let me know if there's anything else you need."
After she disappeared behind the door, Yuri set down his fork and once again reached for his phone. The words had yet to come to him, so he closed out of the app, deciding he would try again later. He probably had a day to comment before the Angels suspected something was up.
He was about to put his phone back in his pocket when he received a FaceTime notification from Viktor. He and Yuuri had probably just seen the news as well. Though tempted to ignore it, not really in the mood to talk to the "Doting Dumbass Dads" (as he often referred to them in his head), Yuri knew from previous experience that Viktor would keep trying to call him until he finally answered, so he decided he might as well get it over with.
Accepting the call, he winced when Viktor answered by promptly blowing a noisemaker.
"Congratulations, Papa!"
Yuri rubbed at his ear, glaring at the skating legend through the screen. "Geez, warn a person before you bust their eardrum, will you? And who are you calling Papa?"
"You, silly!" Viktor said. "Mila's pregnant, right? We just saw her message on Instagram."
"Yeah, with Beka's baby, not mine. Obviously." Viktor could be an idiot at times, but certainly he wasn't that dense.
"But aren't the three of you –"
In the background, Yuri heard what sounded like Yuuri's voice. "Look who woke up from his nap," the voice cooed, Viktor looking off to the side at something off camera.
"Nikusha! Perfect timing," Viktor said, his entire face lighting up. "Come say 'hi' to your Uncle Yurio." He adjusted the position of his phone so that Nikita, now sitting in Yuuri's lap, was visible.
Once again, Yuri marveled at how much the kid really looked like Viktor and Yuuri's biological son, as impossible as that might be. He had inherited the majority of Viktor's facial features, including his trademark heart-shaped smile, but his eyes were Yuuri's (and Mari's), dark and expressive. He also had Yuuri's ink black hair, which was currently a tangled mess after his nap, the strands sticking up every which way.
"How many times do I have to tell you my name isn't –"
"Hi, Unca Yurio!" Nikita said, waving at the camera.
Great, they've already infected the kid, Yuri thought. Now he was going to be stuck with the stupid nickname for life.
But he had to admit that it sounded pretty cute coming from Nikita's mouth. "Hey, Nikusha. Cool shirt." He was wearing a black T-shirt with the English words "Born To Be Wild" printed on the front in leopard-print block letters.
"It's the one you sent him for Christmas. I think it's his favorite," Yuuri said. "He always wants to wear it."
"Well, at least he already has a good sense of style."
"By the way, I hear congratulations are in order," Yuuri said as the camera panned back up, his and Viktor's faces filling the screen. "It's wonderful news! Are you excited to be a father?"
Yuri rolled his eyes. Not Yuuri, too… Viktor was a bad influence. "Can either of you idiots read? Beka's the father, not me."
"I can't believe you didn't tell us that we're going to be grandfathers," Viktor said with a pout, not paying any attention to a word Yuri said. "We had to learn the news from Instagram!"
"You're not my dads, either. Seriously, go take a biology class sometime."
"Biology doesn't necessarily make somebody a dad, Yurio," Yuuri reminded him, kissing the top of Nikita's head.
Yuri immediately regretted his choice of words; he knew that perhaps better than anyone. After all, he hardly considered the unknown man who impregnated his mother as a teenager his father. For that matter, his mother wasn't much of a mother, either.
"Oh, right. Sorry," he apologized. "Still, you two aren't my fathers. That's just…weird. More like big brothers, maybe. Maybe. And Mila's baby has nothing to do with me."
Yuuri frowned, a concerned look in his eyes. "Did you and Otabek break up? Is that the proper term when you end a queerplatonic relationship?"
"No, not exactly…"
"What does that mean?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. It's…complicated," Yuri said, regretting he had let slip his conflicted feelings about the baby. "It's not like I can go to the library and check out 'How To Deal When Your Queerplatonic Partner Has A Baby With His Girlfriend.'"
Viktor and Yuuri exchanged a look. "Yurio, if you're confused about where you stand, it sounds like you and Otabek need to have a talk," Viktor said.
He knew Viktor was right, but Yuri didn't want to talk about it. Not yet, anyway. For just a little while longer, he wanted to hold onto Otabek and pretend that nothing was going to change between them. "We'll figure it out," he said, brushing it off as if it was only a minor concern. "Anyway, I have to go. I have an interview to get ready for."
"Oh, okay. We don't want to keep you. Give Mila and Otabek our love and congratulations."
"Say bye-bye to Uncle Yurio, Niki-chan," Yuuri said, standing Nikita up on his legs so that his face joined theirs on the screen.
"Bye-bye!"
"Bye, Nikusha," Yuri said before ending the call and tossing some banknotes on the table to cover his uneaten meal.
He wasn't very hungry anymore.
Yuri spent the next couple of hours wandering around the city, engaging in a little retail therapy. Shopping for new clothes usually cheered him up when he was feeling down, but it wasn't working as well as it usually did. As he left the fifth store, his arms laden with bags full of clothes that he would probably never wear, his cell phone started ringing.
"Yeah?" he answered after struggling to pull the phone out of his pocket without setting any of his bags down.
"Yura, hey, where are you?" Otabek asked. "You've been gone a while."
"Oh…out. Decided to do a little shopping."
He glanced down at the six or seven bags currently hanging off his left arm. "Little" was a bit of an understatement. Years of watching Viktor spend money like it was going out of style had been a bad influence on him now that Yuri actually had some real money of his own.
"Are you almost done? We're ordering a pizza for lunch."
"Pizza?" Yuri's stomach growled, reminding him that he still hadn't eaten anything.
"Yeah, I know, but Mila's craving carbs, and it is the off-season… A cheat day won't hurt."
"What kind?"
"What kind do you want?"
"Supreme." If Yuri was going to indulge, he was gonna indulge. "Get some breadsticks, too."
Otabek chuckled. "Okay, sounds good. What time do you think you'll be back?"
He checked the time on his phone. He was about a twenty minute walk away from the apartment – less if he took a cab, but if he was going to pig out on forbidden pizza and breadsticks, the athlete in him knew it was probably a better idea to walk and get some more exercise beforehand. "Two-thirty-ish?" Yuri gave himself a five minute buffer to drop his bags off at his apartment.
"We'll be waiting. Come over whenever you're ready."
It seemed Yuri miscalculated the time it would take to walk home. By the time the elevator slid open on their floor, it was already a couple of minutes after two-thirty. He still dropped the bags off at his place, though, before heading to Otabek's and Mila's apartment next door.
"— given this a lot of thought. This isn't some whim, Mama. … See, this is why I didn't tell you sooner! … No, I haven't decided yet. I definitely want to do some shows when I get back in shape, but… Coaching? I don't know. Maybe. I'll think about it… No… No!"
Mila was pacing around the living room, phone to her ear, when Yuri arrived. Otabek, sitting at the island, brought a finger to his lips and motioned for Yuri to come join him.
After quietly closing the door behind him, Yuri walked over to the island and hopped on the stool next to Otabek. "So, I'm guessing Mama Babicheva wasn't too thrilled to find out she's going to be a grandma, huh?" he asked in a low voice.
He had only met Mila's mother a handful of times over the years, but she wasn't one of Yuri's favorite people, reminding him of a stricter, harsher, and more bitter Lilia – and not in a good way. She had a bad habit of thinking she knew what was best for her daughter, always trying to push Mila into the decisions she wanted her to make.
"Honestly, I think she's more upset that Mila didn't tell her the news herself. Her dad called a little earlier. He was pretty shocked, but I think he was mostly happy once the idea sunk in a little more," Otabek said, handing him a plate. "Anyway, grab a slice if you want. Mila said we can start eating without her."
Yuri glanced down at the medium, thin-crust pizza sitting in the open box on the counter, next to a bag of his breadsticks and a bowl of salad. Half of the pizza was the supreme he had requested; the other half was topped with ham and little yellow bits of…
"Is that…pineapple?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.
"Yeah. Mila's pick."
Side-eyeing the ham-and-pineapple half, Yuri selected a slice of the supreme pizza and set it on his plate, alongside a couple of breadsticks. Some things simply did not belong on a pizza, and he was pleased to see Otabek had the good taste to select a slice of the supreme as well to go with his serving of healthy salad. (Then again, Otabek rarely ate pork anyway.) Mila could have that crime against food all to herself.
"No, we're not getting married," Mila said, continuing her talk with her mother. Yuri saw her rolling her eyes before she spun back around. "Because we're happy the way things are. … Mama, having a baby is not a good reason to get married. You should know that better than anyone!" Even from where they sat across the room, Yuri and Otabek could hear Mila's mother's voice booming on the other end of the line, Mila wincing and holding the phone away from her ear. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she apologized when her mother finished with her tirade. "That was way out of line, but my point still stands… Because we don't want to, Mama. It wouldn't be fair to Yura."
At the sound of his name, Yuri paused mid-bite, setting his half-eaten breadstick back down on the plate.
"Oh my god, for the thousandth time, Yura isn't Beka's boyfriend! They're queerplatonic partners," Mila said, running a hand through her hair in obvious frustration. Between their three families, Mila's mother had always been the least accepting of their unconventional relationship, feeling that Mila deserved to be with someone who loved her alone. "How many times do I have to explain to you that Yura is asexual? It means – … That's none of your damn business! … Mama… Mama… Can you please just be happy for us? I'm having a baby, your first grandchild. … I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. … Yes, I promise no more sharing life-changing news on Instagram without telling you first… Not going to happen… I love you, too, Mama. Talk to you later. Bye."
With that, Mila ended the call, making a noise somewhere between a growl and a shriek as she shook the phone in her hand before finally letting out a huge sigh and joining Yuri and Otabek at the island. She didn't even bother with a plate, grabbing a slice of the blasphemous ham-and-pineapple pizza and bringing it straight to her mouth to take a huge bite.
Otabek wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of Mila's head. "That bad?"
"Actually, she took it better than I thought she would," Mila said after swallowing, "but, yeah, still pretty bad." She let out another sigh, reaching for the last plate to set her slice of pizza on. "Don't get me wrong. I love my mother, but sometimes I just want to….argh!" She held up her hands, fingers curled into claws. "Can we switch mothers? Yours is such a sweetheart."
"Sorry. I love you, but…no."
"Don't blame you, honestly," Mila said, turning her attention to Yuri. "Sorry you had to walk in on – Hey, something wrong, Yura? Do you not like your pizza? I thought you told Beka you wanted supreme."
"Huh?"
Yuri lifted his chin off the fist he had it propped on, looking down at his plate. Without even realizing it, he had picked off the majority of his toppings.
"You can have some of mine if you want," she offered, pushing the box toward him. "It's really delicious!"
"Yeah, no, thanks." He picked up a small handful of the discarded toppings and sprinkled them back on top. "The supreme is fine."
She shrugged. "Your loss. The offer still stands if you change your mind, though."
As Mila returned to ranting about her mother to Otabek, Yuri frowned and ate some of his pizza. Elena Babicheva may have been a pain to deal with, but at least Mila and Otabek had mothers who loved and cared about them, which was more than he could say about his own poor excuse for a mother.
"What I really wish is that she would stop trying to push us into marriage," Mila said, reaching over to grab a breadstick and snapping it in half. "Seriously, it's 2022, not the 1800s! Nobody cares anymore if you have a kid out-of-wedlock. Just because her parents forced her to get married when she got knocked up doesn't give her the right for her to try to do the same thing to me!"
"But, you know, you two could get married, if you wanted," Yuri said, remembering what Mila had said while arguing with her mother.
"What?"
Mila stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head, and even Otabek set down his fork, giving him a strange look.
"I just meant, you don't have to worry about hurting my feelings or anything," Yuri continued, regretting he had even brought up the idea at all. After all, hadn't his plan been to avoid talking about their future as a…whatever they were? He dunked one of his breadsticks into the marinara dipping sauce, swirling it around. "It's only a silly piece of paper, right? Getting married would make your families happy, and I know it would make some legal matters eas—"
"Yura, we're not getting married," Otabek said, cutting him off. "It was never even an option for us."
"But –"
"Yeah, absolutely not happening," Mila insisted. "I mean, marriage is fine if that's something you really want, I guess. I'm happy for Sara and Emil, and it's been fun helping her plan the wedding, but I was never one of those girls who dreamed of white dresses and fancy cakes. My parents' divorce kind of soured me on the whole 'until death do us part' thing."
"If you say so," Yuri said. "But if you ever do change your mind…"
"We won't, but thanks."
A few days later, Yuri left Lilia's ballet studio, having finished his daily afternoon lesson. Normally, Mila accompanied him to Lilia's classes, but with her pregnancy and subsequent retirement from skating, she'd decided to take a break from practicing ballet even though her doctor said it would be fine to continue as long as she didn't strain herself too much.
It had been strange to go to the studio without Mila by his side. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to her being there, always ready with one of her hilarious snooty Lilia impressions whenever the former prima ballerina had her back turned to them. Already their lives were beginning to change, and the baby wasn't even due for another six months...
He sighed as he pushed open the door leading out of the building, coming to an abrupt stop when he saw Otabek waiting for him outside, straddling his motorcycle. Yuri's leopard-print helmet was tucked underneath one arm. They hadn't arranged to meet up, Yuri having planned to buy a few groceries on the way home, but he was thrilled to see him, his mood instantly lifting.
"Wanna go for a ride?" Otabek asked when Yuri came up to him.
He grinned. "Hell yeah, I do!" It had been forever since they last rode together.
"Hop on, then."
He handed Yuri his helmet. After putting it on, Yuri settled behind him on the bike, wrapping his arms tightly around Otabek's waist as they took off.
Yuri hadn't asked where Otabek was going and he really didn't care, enjoying the scenic drive until he noticed that Otabek had taken them to a part of the city Yuri didn't recognize, a residential area populated mostly by cookie-cutter family homes. A sinking feeling dropped in the pit of his stomach when Otabek pulled up to the curb in front of a two-story brick house, an "Open House" sign planted in the immaculately mowed front yawn. All that was missing was a white picket fence.
"Beka, what are we doing here?"
Otabek inhaled a deep breath, taking off his helmet. "Looking at a house."
"Oh." Yet another change.
"The apartment is too small to raise a family in," Otabek explained. "The baby will probably stay in our room for the first couple of months, but eventually it'll need its own bedroom."
"Yeah, that makes sense, I guess," Yuri said, removing his helmet as well and shaking out his loose hair. "Shouldn't you be looking at houses with Mila, though?"
"She's at a birthday party for one of her girlfriends today. If I like this house, we can come back another day for a private showing, but I wanted a second opinion in the meantime. You don't mind, do you?"
Sure, because looking for the perfect house for my partner and my best friend to move into with their new baby was exactly how I wanted to spend my afternoon, Yuri thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"Well, since I'm already here…"
"Come on. It shouldn't take long."
Reluctantly, Yuri climbed off the back of the motorcycle and followed Otabek up the flower-lined walkway to the house.
The moment they stepped into the small foyer, Yuri decided he already hated it. "Ugh, popcorn ceilings. Whoever thought that was a good idea?"
"We have popcorn ceilings in our apartments, too," Otabek pointed out. "You've never complained about them before."
Yuri stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. "Yeah, well…" He couldn't think of a good retort.
A well-dressed woman wearing too much perfume walked over to greet them, her heels clacking against the tile in the entryway. "Welcome! I'm Vera Ivanovna Radionova, the realtor selling this house. Are you two in the market to buy?"
"Yeah, we're thinking about it," Otabek said. He didn't bother to correct her assumption that they were looking for a house together. "What can you tell us about this place?"
"Well, it's about two thousand square feet, with four bedrooms and three-and-a-half baths, and was built in 2003. It could use a little updating here and there, but it's in overall good condition. As you can see, it's already open concept, and the kitchen was just renovated three years ago. There's also an attached two-car garage." She handed Yuri a flyer and smiled. "Please feel free to have a look around. If you have any questions, let me know."
Yuri was surprised – and honestly, a little annoyed – that she didn't seem to recognize either one of them. They were the reigning Olympic gold and bronze medalists in men's figure skating, after all. The lack of recognition didn't seem to bother Otabek, though. After thanking the realtor, he pulled Yuri further into the living area.
"Hey, do you really need a house this big?" Yuri asked once they were out of earshot, glancing over the floor plan printed on the flyer. "What the hell are you gonna do with four bedrooms?" He didn't understand why Otabek and Mila couldn't just move into a larger two-bedroom unit in the same apartment building where they already lived if they needed more space for the baby. He knew for a fact that a small family on the floor below theirs was planning to move out next month.
"It would be nice to have some space for guests. My mother's already planning to come visit right after the baby is born to help out for a couple of weeks," Otabek said, looking around the staged living room. "It's not bad. A good size, and the open concept will make it easy to keep an eye on the baby. I like the hardwood floors, too." He crouched down, running his hand over the wide planks. "Oak, maybe? They're really beautiful."
"Yeah, but that fireplace is awful, and whoever decided to paint that wall that pukey green must have been colorblind."
Otabek shrugged, standing back up. "I like the brick; it's homey. And it's not a big deal to paint a wall."
Yuri rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's check out this so-called 'renovated' kitchen."
Much to his annoyance, he had to admit the kitchen wasn't horrible. A bit too white for Yuri's tastes – those cabinets had to be a pain in the ass to keep clean – but it had a decent amount of storage, and the stainless steel appliances were a nice bonus. It had a good-sized island, too – the perfect spot to make pirozhkis.
"Hate the backsplash," Yuri said, mostly for the sake of having something to criticize. Truthfully, it was hard to go wrong with classic subway tiles, but they were boring and added to the overall "whiteness" of everything. A pop of color would go a long way in making the kitchen more interesting.
Otabek let out a sigh.
"What? You said you wanted a second opinion, so I'm giving you one," Yuri said, spotting a plate of chocolate chip cookies sitting on the quartz countertop. "Do you think those are just for staging, or can we eat them?" Not waiting for an answer, Yuri plucked one from the plate and took a bite. "Mmm, these are pretty good." Best part of the house so far, in his opinion.
"Just don't get crumbs everywhere," Otabek said, a faintly amused look on his face.
"Yes, Mom." Yuri grabbed another cookie for the road, stuffing it in the pocket of his hoodie, and headed down a hall with three doors, Otabek following after him.
The first door on the left led to a tiny powder room decorated with a garish floral-print wallpaper that even Otabek had to admit was objectively terrible. Right beside it was the laundry room – nothing special, but it did the job. Across the hall was the door to a first-floor master suite.
"What do you think?" Otabek asked as they entered the bedroom.
"It's…okay? I guess?"
As with the kitchen, he didn't really have any major objections. The room was large, easily big enough to hold a king-sized bed with space to spare, and the windows provided lots of natural light. He wasn't a huge fan of the pale yellow walls, but as Otabek had pointed out, that was an easy enough fix. Mila would no doubt want to paint them pink, anyway.
Opening one of the two doors along the wall, Yuri peeked inside the closet. "Closet's small, though," he said, happy to find one flaw. "You'd never be able to fit both yours and Mila's clothes in there."
"What about your wardrobe? Do you think there would be enough space?"
"You're joking, right? You know I have more clothes than you and Mila combi—" Yuri whipped back around, suddenly realizing what Otabek had said. "Uh, Beka?"
"Yeah?" He was taking a look through the other door. "Come check out this bathroom. Do you like it? It doesn't have a bathtub, but the shower is pretty nice."
"Beka, are you asking me to move in with you guys?"
Otabek smiled, coming back out of the en-suite bathroom. "It took you long enough to catch on."
"What the fuck? No!"
Yuri stormed out of the bedroom, Otabek following him to the hall. "Yura…Yura, wait." He grabbed Yuri by the elbow. "Where are you going?"
"Home."
"How? I'm your ride."
Oh, right. He had forgotten that minor detail. It was way too far to walk. "I'll call an Uber or something," he mumbled with a shrug.
"Yura, what's wrong?" Otabek asked, turning Yuri around so that they were facing each other. "I don't understand. If you hate the house that much, we don't –"
"It has nothing to do with the damn house!" he yelled, catching the attention of a young family coming out of the laundry room. The mother covered her daughter's ears, shooting Yuri a dirty look.
"Sorry about that, ma'am," Otabek said, pulling Yuri in the direction of the powder room with the awful wallpaper. "We need to talk," he said in a lower voice to Yuri. "Come on, in here."
The room was barely big enough to fit the two of them, the wallpaper even worse than Yuri remembered from the first time they checked it out. Otabek locked the door behind them so that they wouldn't be interrupted, then turned around to face Yuri.
"Okay, what the hell was that all about?"
"Nothing," Yuri said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at the fluorescent orange penny tile on the floor. He hadn't even noticed the tile before, too distracted by the horror on the walls. "Seriously, whoever designed this bathroom has the worst taste."
"Yura, don't change the subject. I want to know what's going on," Otabek said, placing his hands on Yuri's upper arms. "I know I kind of sprung this on you, but I thought –"
"Well, you thought wrong." He shrugged Otabek's hands away. "What were you even thinking, asking me to move in with you and Mila?"
The question seemed to take Otabek by surprise. "I… I don't know. I just thought it made sense."
"Beka, you and Mila are having a baby, starting a family."
"I'm well aware of that."
"Then it's time we stop pretending that nothing will change between us!"
"What are you saying? You want to break-up?"
"I don't want to, but –" Sighing, Yuri took a seat on the toilet lid. "Are we really going to have this conversation locked in the world's tackiest bathroom?"
"Will you forget about the bathroom for five minutes?" Otabek leaned back against the door, lightly hitting the back of his head. "Yura, I still love you. That's not going to change just because Mila and I are going to have a baby."
"That's not the issue. I know that."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know!" Elbows on his knees, Yuri dug his fingers in his hair. "I'm just not sure where I fit in anymore, I guess," he finally admitted in a softer voice.
"Oh. I see." Otabek rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I get it. You didn't exactly sign on for all this. I shouldn't have assumed…"
Yuri rose back to his feet, moving to stand in front of Otabek. It was time he finally came clean.
"I'm happy for you and Mila, really I am," he said, reaching for Otabek's free hand and giving it a tight squeeze. "You two are going to be the most amazing parents, but…" He swallowed. "I-I don't know if I'm ready for all this. I'm only twenty-one, and my upbringing… " Yuri let go of his grip on Otabek's hand, wrapping his arms around himself. As close as they were, the years before he moved in with his grandfather at the beginning of first grade were largely a mystery to Otabek and Mila, Yuri preferring not to dwell on the early years of his life. "Well, it wasn't the best," was as much as he was willing to say.
"I don't understand. What does –"
"Maybe we should break up," Yuri said, his heart breaking even as he said the words. "It would be better that way. Then you and Mila can get married, buy your big, fancy house in the suburbs, and have a proper family."
"A proper –? Yura, where the hell is this coming from? We already told you that we don't want to get married."
"Yeah, because of me –"
"Not just because of you." Otabek sighed. "Look, we don't need a piece of paper to prove that we're a family or whatever. You heard Mila. She's pretty sour on the whole idea of marriage anyway because of her parents' divorce. Even if you weren't in the picture, it's not something we would consider."
"But –"
"Do you know what I envision as a 'proper family'?" Otabek asked, not giving him the chance to protest. "You, me, and Mila raising this baby together. Mila wants that, too. You don't have to be a 'father' if you don't want to. You can just be the cool uncle or something, but…" He brought his hands up to Yuri's cheeks, cradling his face. "Yura, I don't want to lose what we have. You're too important to me."
"I-I don't want to lose you either," Yuri confessed, lowering his arms back down to his sides.
"You don't have to. Come live with us. Be a part of our family."
"I don't know..." There was a reason why he had decided to get his own apartment when he left the rink dormitory instead of moving in with Mila and Otabek. He liked having a place to himself, a place that he could keep as messy and disorganized as he wanted, where he never had to worry about walking in on something he had no desire to see. And living with a screaming, crying baby on top of everything else...
Yet the thought of losing the close relationship he had with Otabek pained Yuri in a way he never thought possible. Those who didn't quite understand what a queerplatonic relationship was might think him silly when it seemed simple enough to go back to being best friends like they were before, but the feelings he had for Otabek were just as strong as Mila's. The fact that they weren't "lovers" in the traditional sense didn't make their relationship any lesser than the one Otabek shared with Mila.
"It's really okay if I don't want to be a father?" Yuri asked. "You and Mila will do most of the parenting?"
"Yes, of course. You can be involved as little or as much as you want."
"And you two won't, like, be all naked and gross outside the bedroom?"
Otabek chuckled. "I'll talk to Mila about the nudity, but, yeah, we'll be respectful of your boundaries," he promised, taking Yuri's hands in his own and giving them a gentle squeeze. "So, are you gonna move in with us or not?"
Yuri cracked a smile at that, reminded of that day in Barcelona when Otabek first asked him to be his friend. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, living with them, helping to raise a kid... He still had his reservations, but it was worth a shot to try to make it work.
"Yeah, okay. I'll move in with you," Yuri decided, Otabek smiling as well.
"I'm glad," he said, reaching up to brush the bangs out of Yuri's eyes. "Um, is it okay if I kiss you?"
Yuri shook his head, bringing a hand to Otabek's mouth. "I do not kiss in bathrooms, especially strangers' bathrooms. People piss and shit in here, Beka!"
"I'm sure they gave it a good cleaning before the open house...but fair enough. What about a hug? Do you hug in bathrooms?"
"Not usually," Yuri said, laughing and wrapping his arms around Otabek's waist, "but I suppose I can make an exception this one time..."
They hugged each other for a long moment until they heard a soft knock on the door. "Is there a problem in there?" a voice that sounded like Vera's asked. "I've been getting some complaints that nobody's been able to see the powder room. I really must insist that all rooms remained unlocked during the open house."
"Please, she should be thanking us instead," Yuri scoffed, Otabek biting back a chuckle as he turned back around and unlocked the door.
"Sorry about that," he apologized to the realtor when they came back out. "My partner and I had a few things to discuss in private."
"By the way, do you happen to know the name of the person who designed that bathroom?" Yuri asked. "Beka and I love their work."
"Really? That bathroom?" Vera poked her head into the powder room as if to reassure herself that it hadn't magically transformed in the past fifteen minutes. "Um… I can't say for certain, but I believe the current homeowners are responsible for the, uh, design."
"Oh, really? They have a unique style, very…avant-garde."
"Well, that's one way of describing it, I suppose," she said, plastering a smile on her face. "Anyway, do you two have any other questions so far?"
"No, I think that's it for now," Otabek said, reaching for Yuri's hand. "We're going to check out the second floor."
They managed to hold back their laughter until they were out of Vera's earshot. "I can't believe you actually asked her that!" Otabek said as they climbed the outdated staircase. "You're awful."
"No, that bathroom was awful."
"It really, really was."
Upstairs, there was another master suite – larger than the one downstairs – with a big walk-in closet and master bathroom with double vanities and a soaker tub. The other two bedrooms were identical in size, connected by a Jack-and-Jill bathroom. When they finished looking around the second story, they went back downstairs and checked out the backyard, which was a bit of a novelty for Yuri, having lived in apartments all his life. It wasn't huge, but it would give the baby some space to play outside when it was older, which Otabek liked.
"So, what do you think of the house overall?" Otabek asked Yuri as they headed back to his motorcycle. "I know it needs some painting and a couple of updates, but it could work, right?"
Yuri shrugged. "I mean, other than that powder room, I guess it's not terrible, but this is only the first house we've seen. I don't think it's really Mila's style, and it's kind of far from the rink. We'd have to leave at least forty minutes earlier than usual."
"Yeah, but there's not much in our price range if we want to stay in the city."
"Well, then you should up the budget."
Otabek handed Yuri his helmet. "Sure. Let's go rob a bank on our way home," he joked in a deadpan voice, mounting the bike.
"Beka, I'm being serious," Yuri said, climbing on behind him and wrapping his arms around Otabek's waist. "If we're moving in together, then I want to contribute, too."
Otabek glanced back at him, eyebrow raised. "Yeah? You wouldn't mind?"
Yuri grinned. "I'm a three-time Olympic gold medalist. I have more money than I know what to do with, so let's buy our dream house!"
DISCLAIMER: "Yuri! On Ice" doesn't belong to me.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hope you enjoyed this longer-than-usual chapter! The next chapter should hopefully be posted in early December.
Feel free to follow me on Tumblr! My username is kaleidodreams.
