Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline

Chapter Seven-

It had been 10 days since 'the incident' and Plisetsky manor had been in a state of chaos ever since. Otabek was almost glad he'd been shot and was laid up in recovery most of the first day after he'd heard how badly Nikolai had reacted to the attack on Yuri. The Pakhan had all of their men working on finding out who was behind the attack. Security had been tightened and Yuri was once again confined to the townhome, though this was the first time it hadn't been the teens doing.

The teen had thrown a HUGE fit about not being allowed to partake in his New Year's Eve festivities and ended up rip roaring drunk and destroying his entire room. Otabek had been resting at home when he received the call from a terrified maid who didn't know who else to call since Nikolai and Viktor were out on business. He made the 15 ride in 10 despite the biting pain in his shoulder. Even though he'd been majorly lucky the bullet missed the bone and just went through his flesh it still hurt like a mother. Yuri's rampage could be heard from the second floor, and when he arrived at his door, he was greeted by the maid who called, the poor woman practically in tears.

"Oh Mr. Altin! Thank you so much for coming! I know you are supposed to be resting from your shoulder injury, but I am at my wits end and was worried he'd hurt himself this time!" She cried, clutching her apron in distress.

"It's alright, I'll take it from here." He replied curt, but polite as he knocked firmly on the ornate door. The crashing inside halted momentarily before the irate slurred words of the very intoxicated kitten.

"Leave me the fuck alone you stupid, ugly, good for nothing COW!" Otabek listened to the boy scream. He was such a brat, causing all this trouble and then mistreating those who try and help him. God what he wouldn't give for a couple good swats on the pretty boy's behind. That'd be sure to have him thinking twice before he spoke so disrespectfully to his elders.

"Yura, it's me." He replied, loud enough to be heard, not wanting to say much more with the maid standing behind him. Anyone who ever worked in a household with staff should know, all the gossip starts with the maids. There was a long pause and then finally Otabek heard the tumble of the lock turn. When the door didn't open, he reached for the handle and let himself in.

The room was in absolute disarray, clothes, shoes, bags, jewelry tossed about everywhere. The curtains hung in tatters from their bent rods and there was a knife splitting open the chaise lounge that Yuri had always seemed so fond of. Glass was shattered across the plush carpet from the full-length mirror that lay broken on its side. And in the middle of all of this mess, was a crying fairy curled up on the ground with a mostly empty bottle of vodka in his hand. Otabek approached him as one would a feral animal, slowly, quietly, and full of caution.

The kitten was dressed similarly as he was the day Otabek met him, sinfully short lounge shorts, this time pink/black tiger stripes, and a teen tiny crop top, his long golden mane was a tangled disaster. Otabek couldn't get a good look at his face with his head buried in his hands, but if he had the guess there was probably mascara running down his cheeks. It broke his heart to see his poor Yura like this and not be able to just hold him close and tell him everything was okay. Instead he reached a tentative hand out to stoke the boys hair hoping to offer some small comfort.

"Yura…" He kept his voice low and calm, but it doesn't seem like he startled the wounded creature, "What's wrong періште?" (angel) He spoke the last bit in Kazakh. Yuri was wasted and didn't speak the language, so he took advantage of this moment to let his boundaries slip oh so little. He was only a man after all. What he was not prepared however for Yuri to let out a deafening shriek before he threw the bottle at the TV effectively smashing them both to pieces.

"It's not fair!" The beautiful boy cried his face every bit as broken as Otabek's heart to see the one he cared for so much hurting so bad. This spoiled prince, he was so easy to understand when it came down to it. "He's punishing me for something that I didn't even do!" He screamed and Otabek grabbed the boy by his shoulders and brought him to his feet.

"ENOUGH YURA!" He ordered hoping his stern tone would snap some sense into the hysterical boy. His intentions grew soft as Yuri began to cry softly, his head down, golden hair obscuring his face. Why was he cursed to be in this hell, to be with one you loved, but never able show it. To have to hold himself back so much was almost unbearable. He continued in a softer tone. "That's enough Yura, please stop crying."

He may have been able to hold himself back, but he couldn't stop the lanky teen from lurching forward as soon as Otabek loosened his grip and wrapping his arms around the larger man's middle. It was the closest thing he had felt to panic in a long time, but at the same time it felt so good to have the kitten cuddling against his chest, pressing his perfect scantily clad body against Otabeks. Hell seemed worth it for the pleasure of holding this drunk child for just a little while to calm him down.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around him and held him close savoring the heat radiating off bare skin, his resolve quickly crumbling around him as he allowed himself find purchase in the tangled stands of Yuri's hair. The poor kitten wept and wept until his sobs turned into whimpers and he was leaning more on Otabek than standing on his own. The older man continued to stroke his hair, shush his cries and whisper to him in Kazakh all the things he wish he could say.

When he got Yuri to calm down he tried for the better part of 30 minutes to get him to see that he was not being punished, he was being kept here for his own safety, that his grandfather didn't hate him, he loved him and wanted to keep him safe. The old saying 'you can't argue with a drunk person' never held truer than that night. It took over an hour to tuck the drunken prince into his plush bed, after Otabek wrestled with the torn down canopy. It took the staff just a few days to get Yuri's room back in order after he had received a stern talking to from the Pakhan. His lockdown was continued until further notice and Otabek hadn't been to the manor in over a week. He had never spent this much time in his apartment and even though he knew he was supposed to be 'resting' he was getting a little stir-crazy ordering then same shitty take out, reading the same 10 books he always read. That's why when there was a knock on his door at 10am on a Saturday morning, he was extra suspicious about who it may be.

He lived in a secure building, one that requires a key to access or else you'd need to be buzzed in. Never once had he socialized with his neighbors, an unfortunate necessity of the lifestyle, but it made him certain that it was not one of them rapping on his door at this odd hour. Setting down his copy of Tinker Tailor Solider Spy* next to his untouched black tea. Footsteps light as a feather he moved to grab his MP-443 Grach** off the nightstand before creeping to the door. He was debating whether or not to look through the peephole. Someone well trained enough will be able to detect the movement behind the door. On the other hand, if he did just swing the door open, and ended up with the barrel of his gun pressed up against some babushka needing a cup of flour or something, that would be bad news. Before he had time to decide the knocking continued, but this time a familiar voice followed.

"Otabek! Yoo hoo! I come to pay you a house call and this is the hospitably I get?!" Otabek immediately relaxed when he heard the voice, and the sting in his shoulder reminded him he wasn't supposed to be using that muscle for a while still. He opened the door and their stood the tall, silver haired man in his impeccably fine coat and hat. Otabek always felt so foreign in his dress clothes, but Viktor looked like he was born to wear them. His beautiful striking features complimented the fine lines of his tailored suits and sharp winter coats.

Otabek had been aware that he was different from 'normal' kids growing up, in many ways. He was quiet and reserved, prefers peaceful solitude to loud games and events. He also listened and observed his peers grow aware of and appreciate the female body in a way that Otabek didn't feel needed to be limited to just that individual sex. It because apparent that gender meant absolutely nothing to him in the terms of attraction, though being a quiet youth, in Kazakhstan in a bad neighborhood certainly didn't have him running to share his self-discovery with anyone. Through his adolescence he kept the small number of romantic affairs he indulged very discrete, romance never really a large part of his life, but unlimited by the dividing lines of gender. Still, every other woman or man, including the legend of a man Viktor Nikiforov himself paled in compassion to the new center of his world, Yuri 'Ice Tiger' Plisetsky.

"Hello my dear friend! How's that shoulder healing up?" The smiling man asked as he casually made himself comfortable at once, sitting in Otabek's favorite armchair and kicking his feet up on the makeshift coffee table looking quite expectant. Otabek tried not to let his unease show on his face and shut the door quickly, following the older man and asking himself why that warranted an in-person visit rather than a call or a text.

"It's mostly healed, stitches came out yesterday." He replied. Taking a seat in the loveseat that had remained mostly untouched in his time there. "Can I offer you something, coffee, tea?" He asked remembering his manners, he didn't know why his superior was at his apartment, but he wanted to make a good impression regardless. He respected Viktor and enjoyed working with his on the Lyutov Brothers job.

"Don't you have anything harder? After all we are celebrating!" He exclaimed innocently as if Otabek was supposed to have any idea what he is talking about.

"Celebrating?" He quirked an eyebrow and Viktor jumped up in response.

"Yes! Celebrating!" He let himself into Otabek's kitchen and opened a cabinet or two before stumbling upon the cheap Vodka he had stashed in the cabinet above the stove. In contrary to his normal demeanor, Otabek scrambled after the eccentric man, quickly grabbing 2 small glasses from on opposite cabinet and placing them in front of his boss. Soon they were filled, and Viktor handed one to Otabek before raising his own in a toast. Otabek was so confused went along wit it and clinked glasses. Whatever this was, it was a good thing, right?

"Here's to you Otabek, for all the indispensable work you have done so far in the Plisetsky name. The Pakhan is very pleased with you." Viktor took his drink in one shot and Otabek followed suit, immediately the silverette filled them again.

"Спасибо. (Thank you.) He answered wishing the dramatic man would get on with it instead of making this big show.

"So much so, that he is inviting you to come and live permanently in a private suite in the townhome." The older man continued, his smile sly. Otabek was a little taken aback. Live in the townhouse? Permanently? When the speechless man didn't answer, Viktor took his second shot and Otabek followed again, running on autopilot.

"I'm sure you know that this is a very respected and coveted place in this household, once you live there you are officially part of the inner family. It means you are in this for life. Otabek, is this something that you want?" Viktor asked, more serious this time. It was a good question. Was this what Otabek wanted? To swear his undying loyalty and work for the Plisetsky bratva the rest of his life? He thought for a total of 1 second about what his life would be if he was just to walk away from it right now, but the pain in his chest reminded him why he could never do that.

Yuri. He could be living with Yuri. He would happily protect the sweet devil for the rest of his life if he could. In a matter of months the center of his world had become a 17 year old brat with an attitude problem who was so drop dead gorgeous, he could drag any man straight to hell. The answer was clear. Of course this was what he wanted.

"Yes, forgive me. It would be a great honor to live in the home of the Pakhan and serve him and his family faithfully as long as I shall live." He finally replied when he collected his wits, causing Viktor to break out into another Cheshire cat grin.

"Oтлично!" (Excellent!) The older man cried! Pouring another 2 shots and downing his quickly. He walked over to the front door confidently before throwing it open and yelling into the hall.

"Alright gentlemen! Let's get this all packed up!" He called and before Otabek knew it his entire existence was packed up into a few boxes of personal items and his armchair, which he had to convince Viktor to take, despite being assured there was a perfectly acceptable one there. Once everything was being transported to the manor, Otabek retrieved his bike and began the familiar drive to the townhome, feeling a bit nostalgic that this was the last time he was going to have to make it.

He didn't quite know how he felt about living in the house, it wasn't anything like a normal house at all, more like a hotel. The only people he knew that also lived in the townhome were Viktor himself, Mila and Georgi, both of Nikolai's bodyguards, and Yakov Feltsman, Nikolai's Obschak***. Maybe there were a few more, but he couldn't remember, some members were here so often it was like they lived here, but in reality, they had their own homes. He took the scenic route on the way to the townhome, riding along the river grateful for the solitude. It was almost a bit overwhelming being asked to move into the townhouse. Otabek was raised in the slums, and these walls dripped in gold.

His suite was nothing compared to the prince's palace on the top floor, but it was the nicest room ever had his in his life. Dark wood and masculine tones complimented the minimal neat space, much to Otabek's. It was located in the east wing of the second floor, Otabek wasn't familiar w/ this area of the townhouse, it was very large, and he only went where he was needed. Turns out there was a reason he'd never been called there; it was were most of the other staff lived. Otabek was on the second floor with Mila and Georgi, Sergei, and two other high-ranking members he didn't know. The biggest surprise was that Viktor himself lived in the manor, though he was on the third floor.

The room itself was rather large with a queen-sized bed with a large wooden frame that matched the end tables and a large dresser. There was a small sitting area consisting of a small sofa and his beloved chair that was perfectly placed beneath a window and next to his fully stocked bookshelf. He appreciated the efficiency of the movers; he didn't think he took that long on his ride. The best part was the bathroom, modern and CLEAN, a far cry from the busted bathroom in his kruschevka apartment and even more so the dismal accommodations of prison.

Viktor left him to settle in saying that Nikolai wanted to meet with him tomorrow after breakfast. He spent a couple hours arranging and rearranging until everything felt right to him. He decided to take a shower to refresh from the whirlwind day and clear his thoughts. He seriously considered taking a bath for the first time in probably 5 years. He had done some work in Japan a few years ago and had spent some time in the onsens. At first, he had been horrified of the though at bathing naked with other people but when he came around to the idea he cursed himself for not taking advantage of the experience more.

Feeling like he could allow himself this one luxury, he chose to soak in his new bath until the water ran cold. His mind wandered first to the added issues that living in close proximity to Yuri would cause. He felt electricity course through him as the steam rose around him and thoughts of his Yura in his own grand tub, covered in bubbles… No! Forcing the impure thoughts from his head he slid further down and closed his eyes.

The remainder of his time spent in the bath was peaceful and uneventful, Otabek content to soak his sore body until he literally had to force himself from his relaxation to towel off intent on turning in early. For some reason this day was really draining for him. He wrapped a plush towel around his waist before heading back to his room in search of some boxers to sleep in, and was completely unprepared for the sight in front of him.

There was his Yura, a confusing and sinful display of innocence and sex appeal, his little angel from hell. The teenage dream was wearing an oversized white and pink sweater with no hint of anything underneath. He had on these pretty little thigh highs with a bit of lace at the top. Somehow, someway this little brat had snuck into his room and was now lounging on his bed.

"Алланың атымен" (In the name of Allah) he muttered under his breath in Kazakh. The kitten was going to be the absolute death of him. He wondered if perhaps he'd drifted off in the bath and was dreaming this right now. No if this was a dream the naughty little thing would have his legs spread already, teasing himself and Otabek already. This Yuri just smiled to his exclamation.

"Nice room." Yuri stated cutely keeping searing eye contact with the older man. "Did you enjoy your bath Daddy?" The kitten drawled out rolling onto his stomach and absent mindedly kicking his feet.Fuck, that sweater was so short, he could almost see the perfect round globes of his delicious pert ass. Otabek felt frozen in place, this was not good. Here he was practically naked with this too young to touch blonde boy in his bed. This alone was enough to get him killed if they were caught.

"Yuri, you should not be here." He scolded, his voice deep and dark. He hoped it came across as commanding and scolding, but in reality, his arousal was peaked, the towel was not going to be enough to hide it soon. The smirk on Yuri face only faltered for a moment before the kitten got up gracefully was slinking his way over to the bodyguard who was beginning to sweat. Otabek knew he needed to push the boy away, throw some damn clothes on him, and haul him back to his room upstairs, but his body absolutely would not listen to reason, it wanted to teenage hellion so badly. He blamed the look on the younger boy's face for keeping him frozen in place for the time being. The faux innocence he played on with that hair falling in front of his face, the wide porcelain doll eyes, the slinky kitty cat, his body ached to touch, to get just one little piece of that.

"Why? I heard you moved in and wanted to come and welcome you to hell." Yuri laughed carelessly. Oh, Otabek was in hell alright, to have everything you ever wanted and more right in front of you, practically begging you to take them, and having to push it all away. The blonde was right up against him now, his head only reaching Otabek's shoulder. The teen was trying to play everything cool, but he could see the hunger in Yuri's eyes, the wanton lust that poured from him, dripping like a bitch in heat. His mouth was open slightly and he breathed heavily while he raked his eyes all over Otabek's exposed, slightly wet body. It was obvious when he had difficulty swallowing as he reached out with delicate fairy hands to stroke his broad chest.

A groan rumbled in his chest before he had the chance to stop it and Otabek was completely mortified at the obvious reaction to the boy's shameless advances. It was time to end this, he didn't know how much longer he could hold back.

"Yuri, stop that right now." He commanded firmly grabbing the waif by the shoulders and holding him as far away from his own almost panting body. "It's not appropriate for you to be here." The words were cold and icy, his eyes narrowing to convey his seriousness. He didn't mean it kitten, please don't look so sad.

Yuri looked like he had just been slapped in the face and used Otabek's total underestimation of him to quickly slip out of his grip and move into his personal space again, throwing his arms around the Kazakh's neck stopping just short of their lips meeting.

"That's bullshit! I know you want me as much as I want to see you." While his actions were bold, the look in Yuri's eyes was changing, dark clouds covering the brilliant green. Otabek recognized the look of hurt and even betrayal.

I'm so sorry kitten, forgive me.

Of course, Yuri was right, of course Otabek wanted nothing more than to take the naughty little boy into his arms and screw him on every surface of his new room. Bring the boy all the pleasure his poor lithe body could handle, and then give him even more. But he couldn't, and he wouldn't, for either of their sakes. It would end in nothing but disaster and while he loved Yuri, he did not want to die. For one, he would trust no other with the boys care, especially after this attack out of the blue. And two, Otabek still had loose ends in his life he needed to tie up, he was only 25 after all.

"That is ridiculous. I am your bodyguard, an employee of your Dedushka, and you are just a kid. I would never think of you in that way. Now get out of here, and put on some sweats before you leave. Suppose someone saw you like that?" He growled and pushed the teen off him, not hard enough to really jar him, but hard enough to get the stubborn boy to let go and establish his dominance. Yuri's look was heartbreaking; hurt, embarrassed, rejected. The kitten clutched at his chest reflexively with one hand and the gesture was not lost on Otabek. It seemed as if Yuri was going to say something but then quickly shook off his look of vulnerability. The veil of anger was being placed over his true feeling like he knows the poor kitten had learned to do to prevent himself from getting hurt.

Oh Yura, please don't hurt over me.

"You know what?! Fuck you Otabek!" He screamed and pushed the larger man back. Otabek let him, he knew the kitten was angry, if this is what he needed, this is what Otabek would do for him. Poor kitty, if he only knew how much it killed him to do this. Turquoise eyes glared up at him burning with hate. He fully expected to be shoved or hit again, but instead Yuri just turned on his heel and started stomping towards his door. Yuri threw it open and Otabek prayed to Allah no one was in the hallway right now, with his little hellion dressed like that and Otabek only in a towel.

"Meet me upstairs then in 15 minutes, we are going out." He nearly spat out before slamming the door with a force that rattled the frame a little bit.

Standing there in the aftermath of the storm, Otabek pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm down. FUCK. Day one and this was the sweetest of all tortures. But there was nothing he could do, he had to stop this now before it became something it couldn't be. He quickly toweled off and got dressed to take Yuri out, his own heart heavy as he mourned the loss of the love he could never have.

AN:

Ohhhh shiiiiit. It's going DOWN. I hope you guys don't hate me for this and if you do you are going to REALLY hate me for the next chapter. So much drama, so much angst! And with Otabek living in the house now, it's only going to get worse. Of course bad boy Yuri does all the right things to make his move, but he still can't get the man. I don't know why I have to torture they two sweet boys so much, I promise you that I really do love them and that the hero/fairy duo will get their happy ending eventually. I should be able to get the new chapter posted soon, I've been anticipating it since the I started this story. Also, for anyone who was wondering, I decided in this AU that Otabek was raised Muslim as it is the largest religious base in Kazakhstan. He isn't practicing anymore (obviously), but it felt weird having him say "In the name of God" because that's only something Christians say!

I want to do another shout out to everyone who takes the time to comment on the last chapter! Misha1202, Restlessgirl, foreststarling, Rydactyl, Alexa_Rune, Zoxy2, Earthluver77, Gaaraobsser, A K, Spicyramen, Bru, and Honeyvanitas, you guys are the best 😊 Your comments are literally the fire that burns under me to get the next chapter out. It's so rewarding to think that anyone is even reading this, so to hear your thoughts means the world to me! Another thanks to all the kudos and bookmarks, y'all are appreciated too!

*Tinker Tailor Solider Spy by John le Carre 1974. A classic novel surrounding the Cold War, and you guessed it, a page turning spy story!

** Russian made handgun, standard issue for many Russian police enforcement.

*** Obschak is one of the two spies (Viktor is the other one as Sovietnik) and are essentially the right and left hand men of the Pakhan. He leads to unit that watches over the working unit collecting the money while supervising their criminal activities. This group works with the elite group and is equal in power with the Security group (Viktors group). They plan a specific crime for a specialized group or choose who carries out the operation.