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It's already an improbable situation before the absolutely impossible happens. Yuri, twenty-two years old, had been dragged against his will to an actual hockey game, and he isn't happy about it. He has half of a vile hot dog in one hand and a large Coke at his feet, still mostly full, and is trying to not hate Mila for all he's worth, because he really did owe her one, so he has nobody to blame but himself. Still, he can literally think of five dozen places he would rather be, and one of them is the fiery center of hell.
The only good thing in all of this is the fact that the mascot of Kazakhstan's Barys Nur-Sultan team (the team he's supposed to be against, because Mila's boyfriend is on the other team, the team they literally came to see, and if Yuri cared at all about team loyalty he'd be booing with her at Kazakstan's goals, but of course he does not) is a cat. It looks like a snow leopard. He can get behind a cat mascot.
He's in the middle of wondering what the mascot's name is, paying more attention to its energetic bouncing than the game itself, when the impossible decides it's time to say hello.
Because despite the fact that there's glass all around the rink—protective glass, glass that could stop bullets, probably, if need be—despite that, a hockey puck goes flying through the air at just the right angle, not even caring that Yuri Plisetsky is in its path.
Yuri doesn't know that, of course. He has no idea what it is that hits him in the head. He just passes out.
-
When Yuri opens his eyes again, he's dizzy. He's definitely not upright. He doesn't have a hot dog in his hand. There are people staring down at him.
Actually, there are two people and a snow leopard staring down at him, because the mascot decided to be here, too. Yuri is reasonably sure about all this despite the fact that his vision is showing him things in doubles and triples. Anyway, the blurry red hair could only be Mila.
Yuri tries to say something but the sound that comes out of his mouth is so garbled it might as well be a keysmash.
"Yura!" Mila says, and Yuri winces. It's bright. Her voice is really loud.
He reaches up slowly to try to feel at his head, and winces again. A sharp ache abruptly makes itself known.
"We probably shouldn't move him," says the person next to Mila. He's got to be a hockey player, what with the outfit, even though he isn't wearing a helmet right now. Yuri doesn't recognize him. He's pretty sure it's not Mila's boyfriend, which is weird, supplies the working section of his mind.
"The paramedics are coming," says whoever's inside the cat head, although it's muffled.
"What the fuck," Yuri finally manages to say. He's not an invalid. "What happened?" He presses his hand to the bench and tries to sit up. This whole situation is super weird. "Who the hell are you?" he says to dark and handsome, who is looking at him with an unreasonable amount of cool despite the gross shoulder pads.
"Yura! You should stay still," Mila says, supporting him anyway as he gets closer to upright. He's starting to regret sitting up. "You got hit in the head with the hockey puck. This is Otabek Altin. He's the one who snapped the puck, and he wanted to make sure—"
Before she finishes that sentence, Yuri punches the asshole. For good measure, he punches the mascot, too, because their whole team sucks and he hurts and god fuck why is he at a hockey game? He should have known better.
Honestly, the punches aren't his finest. He's dizzy and in pain and they just don't have enough power behind them for how he truly feels, but they get the point across.
"Ow," says Otabek Altin, although he barely budges. The mascot's reaction is a much louder, affronted "Hey!"; Yuri immediately feels bad that he punched a cat, but not bad enough to say he's sorry. It's a person in a cat suit, anyway, and he represents everything Yuri hates right now.
This is when it starts to catch up with him that the game has apparently stopped. The whole arena is in low-murmur mode, unsure what's happening. Yuri feels a shit ton of eyes and a whole lot of rubbernecking.
And then the paramedics show up, efficient and overwhelming. Despite Yuri's protests, they pick him up and put him on a stretcher. Someone tells him he might have a concussion. Mila holds his hand, which he's secretly, unhappily grateful for, and Yuri gets whisked away.
-
A doctor checks his head and determines that he does definitely have a concussion, and Yuri has to wait before he's allowed to go home, because they want to make sure he doesn't have worsening symptoms that he can sue them for. The doctor doesn't say the last part but Yuri's pretty sure about it anyway. He gets some painkillers for his throbbing headache and Mila stays with him in the small infirmary through the rest of the game even though Yuri tells her she should go watch her boyfriend.
"I don't think so," she says fiercely. "He didn't even come to check on you." And when she puts it like that, well.
The lights mostly stay off, which is a relief. Mila scrolls through her cell phone and gives Yuri updates on irrelevant things (the mascot's name is Barsik, she reports) because the doctor said that Yuri isn't allowed to look at screens. Yuri takes back his preference for being in the fiery center of hell; this is definitely hell, and he does not want to be here after all.
After a while, the wave of cheering that filters through the walls dies down. The door opens; Yuri is hopeful it's the doctor giving him the go-ahead to leave, but instead it's Otabek Altin. His hair is a damp, disheveled mess from his after-game shower, and he walks up to the side of Yuri's bed with singleminded purpose.
"Oh my," Mila says, low with suggestion.
Yuri doesn't tell her to shut up. He's too busy staring at Altin, who, now that Yuri isn't seeing multiples of him, has resolved into a solemn-faced man who is way more attractive than Yuri had originally grasped. He looks a lot better without the extra bulk of his gear. Yuri can see his shoulders and his compact, strong-looking frame.
It would be nice if he could see Altin's ass, Yuri thinks dazedly. Hockey players have great butts. Mila has waxed poetic about them excessively, like she thinks Yuri hasn't noticed, but he absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent has. Unfortunately, Altin does not turn around to let Yuri look. He just has to imagine.
"How are you?" Altin says without preamble. It doesn't sound like small talk.
"I feel like shit," Yuri tells him honestly. "You gave me a concussion."
Altin's lashes dip in thought, his gaze rising to the crown of Yuri's head, then down to the rest of him. Yuri would laugh if his head didn't hurt so much. He's being checked out in an infirmary bed. "I'm sorry," says Altin. He pulls up a chair and sits down on it without invitation. "But the upside of it all is that it means I got to meet you." His voice is smooth, with low, rich undertones that don't bother Yuri's headache in the slightest. The lightheadedness and warmth that follows is definitely not all because of his concussion.
Mila is making a noise like she's trying not to laugh. Yuri is too distracted to growl at her.
"I punched you," Yuri reminds him. "You hit me with a hockey puck, and I punched you for it."
Altin hums his agreement of these facts. Then he holds out his hand. "Otabek," he says. "Can I take you on a date? Once your concussion is gone, of course."
Yuri stares. It's not like it's fate, or anything. He'll kick Mila if she even suggests a hockey puck to the head is something as cheesy as that. But the fluttery feeling in his chest is undeniable, and it's hard to look away from Otabek's unwavering gaze. He finds he doesn't really want to, anyway.
He thinks about how Otabek hadn't flinched, even when Yuri had punched him; how he'd come to check on Yuri, even when Mila's own boyfriend hadn't. He slips his hand into Otabek's, and finds it's big and warm, grip firm. "Okay," he says. "Yeah."
Otabek makes sure Yuri has his number (Mila programs it into Yuri's phone for him) and then leaves after wishing Yuri a speedy recovery. Yuri stares at his ass on the way out. It's a top-grade, bounce-a-quarter-off-it sexy ass.
"So," Mila says lightly, once he's gone.
"...So?" Yuri says warily, dragging his gaze away from the door.
"That went very well, considering the puck to the head." She's grinning devilishly.
"Shut up, hag," Yuri says, even though he agrees.
(Coda:
Two weeks later, Otabek flies in from Kazakhstan, working around his team's schedule.
"Why would you go out of your way?" Yuri says, honestly curious, as they walk through the gardens of Peterhof Palace on the first of what turns out to be many dates.
Otabek takes a moment to think about it, looking up at the blue sky. "I like you. Probably," he says, "because you punched me." He reaches over and takes Yuri's hand, folding it into his own.
In that moment, Yuri had been at his worst: in pain and angry, ready to bite someone in half, chew them up, and spit them back out. Despite that, Otabek's gaze had been steady, and he'd looked at Yuri and seen something good. Yuri squeezes his hand, touched. It feels right.
The right beginning to a long-lasting love story.)