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“Cleaning is bullshit,” Yuri mutters, folding his arms like a petulant child.
“Opinion noted,” Otabek says. “We still need to do it.”
“You’re not my mother, Beka.”
“Yes, but you don’t want to live in a hovel, do you?”
“The apartment isn’t a hovel, you dickhead,” Yuri says, but Otabek knows he isn’t actually pissed off.
“Yes, but it will be if we never clean it,” Otabek says. “Come on, Yuri, let’s do a good spring clean.”
“Fuck off,” Yuri says, scowling.
And as much as Otabek wants to continue pretending he’s pissed off, that scowl is just too funny. He muffles laughter into his hand, and Yuri glares at him.
“Are you laughing?”
“No,” Otabek says, but his voice shakes.
Yuri rolls his eyes, picks up a cleaning cloth and chucks it at Otabek. And obviously the thin piece of fabric simply flutters to the floor right by Yuri’s feet, leaving him standing there with a ridiculous look on his face. And even Yuri ends up chuckling.
“What the fuck are we doing?” he says.
“Bickering, clearly. Although, we’re supposed to be cleaning.”
Yuri sighs, but that fond smile won’t leave his lips. “Fine. Give me the polish.”
As Otabek picks up the feather duster and works on the ceiling, Yuri sprays polish onto the wooden counter and starts rubbing it with a cloth. The dust makes Otabek cough, his nose tickling, whilst Yuri grimaces at the smell of the cleaning product.
“Beka, you probably should’ve considered our sensory shit, you know,” Yuri says, and Otabek sees him tapping his toes against the floor.
“Good point,” Otabek says, smiling.
Yuri laughs. “Yeah, you dork. Honestly, why did I get a squish on you?”
But he’s not serious. To prove it, he crosses the room and gives Otabek a hug.