Written for anon request on tumblr a while back. Set post-canon. Content warning for vomit. Enjoy!
Otabek is pretty sure that this is the worst flight he's ever been on-and he's been on a lot of planes. He's been nauseous since they took off. Normally, Otabek has a strong stomach and doesn't have any trouble flying, but it's been choppy and turbulent since the aircraft left the ground, so maybe it's understandable that he's airsick this time. At least, that's all he hopes this is. Another bump shakes the plane and Otabek's stomach drops with it. He squeezes his eyes and wills the queasiness to go away.
The plane continues to toss about in the sky like a toy boat in a washing machine, and the sky outside the windows is inky black. Otabek shivers at the sight, pulling his sweatshirt more tightly around him, and hopes that both the weather and his stomach will calm down.
By the time the plane lands, Otabek's head is swimming and he's made nauseous then he can ever remember being in his life. By some miracle, he wasn't forced to make a mad dash to the bathroom or use his airsickness bag (the fact that he was considering either of those options means he was feeling pretty bad), but that doesn't stop his stomach from rumbling angrily or him from tasting bile at the back of his throat. Otabek swallows thickly, and steels himself. Yuri is waiting for him.
As soon as he reaches the baggage claim, Otabek is tackled by a whirlwind of blond hair. "Beka!" Yuri greets him with an enthusiastic hug, almost knocking him over. Otabek has to brace himself to stay on his feet.
"Good to see you, Yuri," he says, swallowing hard once more. Yuri's exuberant greeting didn't exactly do wonders for his stomach, but displays of affection are rare for the younger skater, so Otabek isn't going to snap at him for it.
"Do you have your bags?" Yuri asks upon finally releasing Otabek. Otabek nods. "Then lets get out of here!"
The car ride doesn't make Otabek feel any better, and he finds himself focusing more on keeping his lunch down than on Yuri's excited chattering. It's freezing outside, but this is Russia, after all; Otabek just wishes that he'd had the foresight to pack his winter coat in his carry on bag.
Yuri pauses his rapid fire speech, looking at Otabek expectantly. Belatedly, Otabek realizes that he must have asked a question and is now awaiting a response. He nods and mumbles something noncommittal, hoping to appease the blonde. Grinning, Yuri goes back to talking nonstop. Otabek closes his eyes against the pounding in his head and shivers, resisting the urge to massage his temples. Fortunately Yuri doesn't appear to notice, too busy prattling on about what they can do while Otabek is in town.
Yuri's apartment is fortunately not too far from the airport-a fifteen minute taxi ride has them on the sidewalk out in front of the building that Yuri lives in when he's not traveling for skating. Before Otabek can blink Yuri is paying for the cab and bounding out, grabbing Otabek's suitcase before he can protest. "It's so great to have you here! This is going to be so fun!" Otabek nods wearily and follows Yuri up the stairs to the second floor.
"Do you want to get dinner? I know a place that has awesome piroshki and a great location."
The mention of Yuri's favorite food makes Otabek's angry stomach burble uneasily. "I'm not really hungry," Otabek says quickly. "I ate on the plane."
Yuri looks disappointed, but nods. "Okay. We can go there tomorrow or something. What else do you want to do while you're here?"
Opening his mouth is a huge mistake-instead of words, the only thing that comes out is a deep, rumbling, rolling burp that echoes off the walls of Yuri's apartment. It smells terrible, and leaves Otabek's mouth burning with an unpleasant sour flavor.
Yuri opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, but before he can even get a word out Otabek is whirling around, a hand covering his mouth and dashing for the sink. His green eyes wide, Yuri follows close on his heels.
As soon as he's reasonably close to the sink, Otabek's stomach gives a final, ominous gurgle before squeezing tightly. Bile and stomach acid forces its way up his throat, dribbling between his fingers and down his chin.
The second heave is more productive, and Otabek barely manages to get his hand out of the way before he brings up a massive wave of vomit. A third heave is accompanied by a spike of dizziness, and Otabek, disorienting, almost goes tumbling backwards.
Yuri catches his shivering frame. "Whoa!" he yelps, surprised. There's an awkward pause. "When were you going to mention that you weren't feeling well?"
After that last round of puking, Otabek's stomach finally seems to have settled a bit. It's a massive relief to not be swallowing convulsively against the urge to vomit. "Thought I was just airsick," he croaks out, his voice raw from throwing up.
"You're running a fever," Yuri points out, pressing the back of his hand to Otabek's clammy forehead.
Otabek had figured as much, given the way he's shivering. He feels a surge of guilt: he's supposed to be here to visit Yuri, but instead he had to go and get sick and ruin everything. The sudden realization brings tears to his eyes. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, hot tears beginning to make their way down his overheated face.
Yuri is alarmed; Otabek never cries. "Hey, it's okay," he says, fumbling with his words in his attempt to comfort his friend. "It's not your fault that you're sick." He bites his lip, trying to think back to how his grandpa used to take care of him when he was sick. "I'm just glad that you're here," he insists, pressing a gentle kiss to Otabek's burning forehead.
Despite the fact that he's shivering and still vaguely nauseous, and sicker than he's been in years, Otabek can't help but smile at the caring gesture. "Thank you, Yuri," he murmurs. "I'm glad that I'm here too."
Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you liked it.
