Chapter Text
Before he grew busy with being a senior skater, Leo would squeeze into a suburban with his three sisters, and their parents would take a day trip to the beach. The occasion didn't matter; be it birthdays, graduations, junior medals, the ocean was often the go-to celebration venue. Leo's family was often the ones to bring food- other aunts and uncles would provide bedding and drinks and ice and all manner of things.
Even a decade later, Leo can vividly remember tripping through sand, spitting out saltwater, and lathering clinical-smelling sunscreen all over himself, and inevitably getting burnt on the one spot he could not reach because he didn't trust any of his cousins to not tickle him. He missed it sometimes. The loud music, the portable grills, all of it. This is why when faced with planning a well-deserved vacation with Otabek, he knew they needed at least one beach day. One day to feel the warm sand beneath their toes. One day to languish on straw chairs and forget their responsibilities.
Thing is, Kazakhstan is a land-locked country.
"We don't have to stay in the country, we have a week," Otabek reminds him over dinner.
"Yeah, yeah, just... It'd be cool if we could bring your family, y'know? A nice treat." Leo worries over his laptop, scrolling past endless travel packages and promises for heavily discounted plane tickets. His plate still lies next to him, untouched.
"Need I remind you this is supposed to be a break? And the twins aren't kids anymore, they're growing up. I'm sure they appreciate the thought, though." Otabek successfully keeps a frown off his face when he eyes the plate, instead knocking his foot against Leo's under the table. They are both wearing socks, a necessity when spending December in Kazakhstan, but Leo still smiles and knocks back, because he does know that. He knows that better and better every time he talks to either one of them and leave the conversation with more words and concepts to Google. And here he thought 26 was still hip and young.
"I guess so. Still, it doesn't narrow the options. I don't know if I feel like exploring a totally new country, either." This is a weak excuse and they both know it. Just down the hall is a wall full of medals from Spain, France, Japan, China, and many more. Anywhere would be just a trip down memory lane, and while that isn't bad, Leo wants to put more thought into their week off. More so, it's their week off. This is a joint thing, and he can't be favoring his wants over Otabek's. There is one place Leo wants to suggest, however. Whether it's a legitimate match is debatable.
"What about... Mexico? I have some family on the coast?" Leo halfheartedly puts it on the table. He doesn't want to favor any one option, but he knows he has a huge bias for this one. He hasn't seen this side of his family in what feels like ages, and his and Otabek's Spanish skills could use some polishing. But it feels like too much of his own wish fulfillment, and Leo feels years-old insecurities.
Otabek sits on the suggestion for some time, sipping on his glass. Leo bites his lip and makes a fleeting note to buy more chapstick. He raps his knuckles on the laptop rapidly as Otabek carefully sets down his glass and reached around the laptop to hold Leo's nervous hand still. "I think that sounds great. But I'm begging you, eat."
With that one detail out of the way, everything could fall into place, but it would have to wait. Leo silently thanks him with a quick kiss to the knuckles, and shuts the laptop to peacefully eat dinner, hands still entwined.
Eight weeks and a 16-hour plane ride later, Leo and Otabek are in Guadalajara, Jalisco, deeply south into Mexico.
"Oh, and the mosquitos, good God, the mosquitos. Maybe it was 'cause I was, like, 10, but it felt like I was being eaten alive! Luckily, they're not so vicious this time of year," Leo talks like he didn't spend the better part of a day in an airplane seat. However, he was a seasoned veteran in long journeys, so he only cracked his neck and packed a travel pillow. Similarly, Otabek nods alertly next to him.
It was like this throughout much of the plane ride and previous months, too, the infodumping. Before buying the tickets, Leo hadn't realized just how homesick he was, even though he had been born and raised in the United States. His blood settled a certain way on Mexican soil, like it recalibrated to honor generations long gone. Or maybe it didn't, and Leo just missed the food. Either way, it had been too long. After making it through customs and reaching the humid air outside, Leo whips out a camera, an upgrade from the phone.
"Smile wide!" He grins, wrapping an arm around Otabek, who dutifully follows instructions.
More than a few motorists fly down the road as they wait, and Otabek nearly lowers his sunglasses to watch them pass. Leo, of course, notices this and elbows him playfully. "I forgot to mention, bikes are, like, super common down here. Renting one shouldn't be so hard, huh?"
"You're the expert here, I'll defer to you," Otabek murmurs, lost in mental calculations of gas mileage and how often they'll be on the road. His train of thought is interrupted when they both hear one particular car horn in a sea of horns that is soon followed with a shout.
"LEO! LEO DE LA IGLESIAS!"
In the long pick-up lane in front of the airport, one car stops, to the great displeasure of every vehicle behind it. Leo perks up and pulls both their suitcases with him hurriedly in its direction. Otabek follows and gets a flash of deja vu. It seems to him that every trip they have, planned or not, he is always the one following.
"It's best to keep traffic moving here," Leo explains as Otabek jogs to keep up with him. A collective scream of horns prove him right, and he grimaces.
Not far from them, a silver sedan pops its trunk open, and Leo instinctively throws the suitcases in with a fervor Otabek rarely sees. He slides into the backseat without looking to the driver, and seconds later, Leo sits right next to him. The car jumps and speeds forwards, and only then does anyone catch their breath.
It turns out the driver is Tomas, a longtime friend of the De La Iglesia's. He speaks Spanish slowly but surely, and Otabek thanks him for that. It's hours until they reach their final destination, and Leo and Tomas use the time to catch up.
"Did Ramira ever grow up?"
"She didn't stop! Lord knows where she got it from. What about Chuy? He graduate yet?
"This year, actually! It was beginning to look like he would never, but he pulled through at the end."
Once they leave the city, it's just the three of them and the air conditioning hard at work. It didn't look like February outside, not in the slightest, and Otabek silently wonders if he packed too many sweaters. He's not the best at speaking Spanish, understanding is always easier, but Leo rubs circles into the back of his hands to reassure him he has not been forgotten.
Somewhere in the middle of asking what someone's brother was doing and how the recent storm had hit, Otabek fell asleep. Next to him, Leo pulls his head away from the window and onto his own shoulder.
"Boy's going to get a concussion like that, with these roads." Tomas slows down considerably for a speed bump. Despite this precaution, they both wince as the car's wheels complain viciously.
Leo nods, and Tomas glances at him through the rearview mirror. "What's it been now? Five, six years?"
"Gonna be eight soon," Leo preens.
In the front, Tomas whistles lowly. "You sure know how to pick 'em."
"I'm not planning on picking any more," Leo admits, and he subconsciously squeezes Otabek's hand.
The conversation shifts again, but Leo doesn't stop thinking about that confession. It's always been in the back of his mind, but he wonders if he's ever said it aloud. If he should say it out loud. If he and Otabek are on the same picture. He doesn't stop until they reach their destination, a rustic house with an orange tile roof and similar detailing, late into the night. It's supposed to overlook a body of water, but neither of them have the energy to enjoy the view. Instead, they unpack only the essentials for right now in a guest room, and Leo can hear Tomas talking with his aunt downstairs.
Otabek falls flat on the floral bedsheets, freshly washed and folded for their arrival. The rest of the room looks recently cleaned, too, and Leo feels touched. Even after so long, he is still cherished and valued, and he feels a rush of gratitude. He climbs in next to Otabek, kicking his shoes off to who knows where and feeling perfectly at home.
"Thanks, again," he mumbles into the mattress and in English.
"For what?" Otabek sits up, refreshed from his nap in the car. Leo rolls on his back to face him, and he throws an arm over his eyes.
"Agreeing to come all the way here. It's kinda selfish of me and—" Leo would normally go into graphic detail here about how unbalanced the scales supposedly are, but he is cut off unexpectedly. He moves his arm off his face and wraps it around Otabek's neck, pulling him closer and kissing him back. Like it has many times before, the world seems to quiet around them, a restless sea stills outside and birds take a moment of silence.
When he pulls back, Otabek pointedly gives him a look. "You know how I feel about that kind of talk. Do you let me get away with that?"
"No..."
"Then I'm not going to let you. I came because I wanted to, not because I'm under some contract."
For as many times as Leo has heard that, he wonders why he hasn't gotten sick of it yet. He swallows thickly and smiles. "I know. Just, I like hearing you say it."
He's only half-joking, and it kills him for that to be true. After so many years, after so much time together and learning everything there possibly is to know about each other, it feels immature and trivial to still worry about things like this. Is that what long-term relationships are? Constantly revisiting the same insecurities and needing endless reassurance? What have all those hours meant if they didn't solve those problems?
With the ease of a more than a decade of experience behind him, Otabek sees right through this turmoil and clicks his tongue. "Stop that, I am not letting you dig yourself into a hole this week." He reaches up and clasps Leo's hands, still wrapped around his neck, and pull them down. He brings the pair of hands to his lips, and as gently as he does it, with the light behind him framing him brightly, Leo feels tight coils letting go of his heart. He feels like he can breathe away, the night sky and its endless stars flowing in and out throughout his lungs.
"You are such an angel," Leo whispers, quiet enough to hear his aunt downstairs sending off Tomas.
"No, I just know you," he insists softly. They stay like that for a few beats longer, Leo sprawled tiredly and Otabek bent over him, until the latter's back throws too much of a fit. He pushes himself up to flick off the light and grab a neatly folded blanket. Despite the persistent sun earlier, the night felt equally as cold, and neither of them felt like digging through their luggage for appropriate sleepwear. Airport clothes would have to do.
They weren't doing so well when the morning sun streamed in and threatened to fry the couple to a crisp. By the time the sweat between them became unbearable and they untangled from each other, Cecilia, Leo's aunt was making breakfast. He didn't remember her very well, only knew that she was now an empty nester and used to stay with his father's family. Hence, she gladly welcomed him and Otabek for the week. When the two of them finally showed themselves downstairs, freshly washed and dressed, she beamed and gestured to two chairs at a table of six.
"Good morning! Sleep well?" She asks in Spanish, and they both nod gratefully. They each take their spot at the table, and Otabek looks around at the many empty seats. It strikes him strangely; his own family was nowhere near big.
"How's the year treating you so far? How's the store?" Leo asks, collecting scrambled eggs and grilled nopales on his fork. Cecilia goes into great detail about how after her last child left for college, she's been keeping busy with a shop right down the street. It is not unlike Leo's infodump from yesterday and Otabek smiles. This time, he contributes to the conversation, asking about her children and the area in general.
Where Leo's hometown reminds him distantly of Kazakhstan, Otabek gazes out the window at nearby, spawling hills covered in trees of every sort imaginable. In the dining room alone, Cecilia keeps bushes and vines and small plants of a wide variety, not to speak of the bigger sorts crawling through her window. This is not an oddity, because the houses visible from the window are identical. The sky was a kind of blue that felt dizzying, felt impossible, almost blinding. It wasn't hard to imagine how someone could feel homesick for this place.
Breakfast led to cleaning up which led to Cecilia leaving to tend to the store. All she left them were keys to a family car and a silence that was typical when a De La Iglesia's big presence left. Otabek inhaled deeply, inhaled all the plants in and out of the house.
"What now?"
Luckily, Leo has a list. It isn't so much an itinerary as possible date ideas, if the entire week couldn't already be considered a date. He was about to read it out— souvenir buying, club-hopping, newly-added bike renting— but in the brief silence, they could both hear waves crashing into each other animatedly. They gave each other a look.
"Which suitcase has the sunscreen?"
-
A poorly-maintained path took them to the picturesque sandy dunes of La Manzanilla Beach in less than ten minutes. Being a Tuesday, there was a conspicuous lack of people, and Leo is beside himself in relief.
"Down south is a tourist destination, I was worried it would spread here," he explains, dragging some chairs from the house. Otabek, hauling a backpack and towels, looks in that direction curiously. He can't see anyone for miles, nor in the other direction, and it feels a little like a deserted island, if he didn't look behind them. For a first impression, not bad.
Leo pulls the chairs under the shadow of a gathering of palm trees, pushed their shoulders together, and he promptly falls into one. Kicking his shoes with more force than necessary, he digs his feet into the sand. It is still toasty from the morning sun, but cooler as he digs deeper. Otabek soon meets him, squinting in the bright light.
"We forgot the sunglasses."
"Sunglasses!" Leo snaps his fingers. "That was it, of course. Damn." He hangs his head off the back off the chair. "Whatever."
"Are you even going to get in?" Otabek drops the towels in front of them and pushes off his sneakers more delicately. He melts into the chair, too, running a hand through his jet black hair. Leo watches him do so, and wonders if it will lighten with the sun. He also gazes down Otabek's arms, bare and soon to be burned without protection. They both changed quickly into something more appropriate before leaving, breathable shirts and shorts. No beaches didn't mean Kazakh summers hesitated to shoot to the 30's every year, without fail. Or 90's, if you asked Leo.
If you asked Leo, he'd have trouble answering anything. Birds chirp and flutter away, annoyed with the intrusion of two people, but it's nothing compared to the blood pounding in his ears. "Probably not, at least not today," he murmurs, forcing his eyes to stare out to the Pacific Ocean.
It's not the same ocean he used to cross every few months for a few days together, but it sure looks like it. Thousands of miles in the air, looking out an airplane window, most bodies of water look the same, at least to Leo. He had to entertain himself in different ways. Fussily planning his time in Almaty, seeing how many songs he can find in his downloads with the same beats per minute, testing his flexibility in small confines, reimagining their reunion over and over and over again. Little things that international athletes learn to do. In those lone hours, Leo often speculated how Otabek must have dealt rides like this, when they were one-way and with no one to look forward to.
Well, he won't have to anymore, Leo had thought pleasantly. Now, as their shoulders pressed together, as Otabek fiddled with Spotify next to him, Leo has a different thought. I haven't had that kinda flight in a while. I won't have to make that kinda flight ever again.
Huh.
"Hey Beka?" Leo keeps his eyes trained on the ocean for a little longer, admiring how one blue meets another on the horizon. He should get a photo. Instead, he twists his body so his legs knock against Otabek's chair.
"Hm?" He looks up from his phone, hair falling into his eyes.
"Just realized I'm spending the rest of my life with you. Can I kiss you?" Leo doesn't have to wait for an answer, because as soon as he asks, Otabek meets him in the middle. Like the Pacific Ocean kissing the early afternoon sky, they meld into each other, and Leo feels a hand caress his jaw, feeling up until it tangles in his hair. When he pulls back, Leo thinks this must be why all those white guys ran to Italy when they coughed up blood, back in the day. The sun and the water and the air really made you go a little mad in the right way.
"God, I love you so much, can we not go back? Who even cares about national recognition, let's just swim and get sun wrinkles and stuff," Leo raves. He raises his hand to link with Otabek's, interlocking their fingers. He squeezes tightly, wildly.
"I love you, too, and I'm sure that would be great, but we have plenty of time left here, Leo," and the way Otabek says his name makes him pull him in for one more meaningful kiss, grinning all the way through.
"Still! Still!" Leo doesn't know what he wants to say next, so he keeps repeating himself. "Still! I just can't believe we're really here, I'm really sitting here with you and you really came with me. And next week, we're going home, to our home, and then, and then who knows! All I know is that you're gonna be there, and that's the best way things could have turned out."
Otabek's breath catches in his throat and he presses his lips, joyfully red alongside the rest of his face, tightly together. He is thinking hard about his next few words, and Leo is delighted by that, especially after his own display. He presses his thumb to the wrinkle between Otabek's eyebrows, and Otabek can't help but crack a smile. "I couldn't ask for it any other way."