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“Are you sure we should be doing this?”
Yuri spied over his shoulder. Otabek was looking around as though the non-existent neighbours would report their presence. “Would you relax? No one's going to see us. We're in the middle of fucking nowhere.” Though why Viktor and Katsuki enjoyed living in the Russian countryside was baffling. Didn't they miss the vibrant lights and thrumming energy of the city? Another glance back at Otabek, then Yuri stowed his makeshift lockpicking tools.
He could just tell Otabek he had a spare key, but breaking in was so much cooler.
Yuri stuffed the key in the lock, turned it until there was a satisfying click, then hid the key deep in his jacket pocket. “Ha! Told you I could do it.” Otabek stopped swivelling his head around and focused on Yuri. And though he didn't smile, the glimmer of the winter sunlight in his eyes and the twitch of his lips made Yuri's stomach flutter. Badass boyfriend points, +1! Yuri beamed and opened the door. “Quick, inside!”
“You just said no one would see us.”
“Because no one will. But what kind of a break-in would this be if we move slowly ? Jeez, Beka. Get on my level.”
That made Otabek smile, and Yuri's heart slammed against his ribs as they stepped into the house. But his pulse nearly stopped dead the moment they were through the threshold.
Hi, Yuri!
Don't leave the door open too long.
There's food in the fridge; help yourselves!
Oh, and no sex in our bed, okay?
We have an extra bedroom, if you must.
Love, Viktor
The pretentious scribbles were written on a scrap of paper taped to the thermostat. Scowling, Yuri ripped the note down before turning to check on Otabek, but he was dusting the snow from his hair, head tilted toward the floor. Good.
He could just tell Otabek they were allowed in the house during Viktor and Katsuki’s absence, but being unwelcome was so much cooler.
“Don't,” Yuri hissed when Otabek started trying to take off his boots.
“But the snow—”
“Will dry up before they get back.”
Otabek sighed. “How long are they going to be gone, again?”
“I don't know. A few days, maybe?” Yuri shrugged. “Like I actually listened to the old man's lip flapping.” And besides, Mr. Don't-Do-This, and his Tweedledee husband, Mr. Don't-Do-That, could go fuck themselves if they thought Yuri would follow the house rules while they weren't there to enforce them. He grabbed Otabek's hand. “Let's raid their cellar!”
Another smile bloomed on Otabek's lips, and Yuri's wild heart was renewed, beating against his chest like a war drum. Badass boyfriend points, +2!
The route through the house was burned into Yuri's mind. Their feet flew down the hall, the squeak of their wet boots on the hardwood floor turning his gut into a bubbling cauldron of giddiness. The water stains that would greet Viktor and Katsukiwhen they returned would have to serve as an acceptable form of marking their territory. Despite the compelling vision of urinating on the faux fur carpet in the living room, Yuri prided himself on having some class.
And Otabek would never let him get away with it, anyway.
Down the stairs and through the door, Yuri flicked the switch on the wall, and the rows upon rows of glass bottles glinted in the overhead light. Shades of amber, gold, and crystal clear liquid delights towered over them, the top of the racks caressing the ceiling. Leave it to Viktor and Katsuki to have an alcohol collection that would put a bar to shame.
Yuri snatched an unopened bottle of straight, plain vodka. The fruity infusions and sweet flavoured ones were abominations from the burning pits of hell. Wait, no. Yuri gagged. They had to be disgusting 'blessings' from the assholes of angels, instead. There was no fucking way something so vile would be birthed from the underworld; only cool shit came from down there.
And who the fuck made birthday cake vodka?!
“Yura.”
“Don't start, Beka.”
“You're not legal age for even basic drinks. Certainly not for something that hard.”
“We're not in a bar. Who the fuck is going to card me?” He could just tell Otabek he was allowed to drink in this house, but breaking the law was so much cooler.
Mirth danced in Otabek's gaze. “Technically, I'm the designated adult right now.”
“Oh, yeah?” Yuri smirked and wiggled the bottle in front of his boyfriend. “What are you going to do about it, then? And just so you know, if your answer is anything but 'handcuff and punish you', I'll be very disappointed.” Badass boyfriend points, +3!
Otabek smirked, too, and stepped closer. Slowly. One foot. Then another. He was a wild beast hunting his prey out in the open, and Yuri was the soon-to-be meal, his stomach flipping and his feet rooted. His pulse raced, his breathing stuttered. Otabek didn't stop advancing until the rack dug into Yuri's back. Then he reached for the bottle and—
Opened it.
That was it. He opened the vodka and took a swig, then turned and started back up the stairs, bottle in hand and a devilish grin plastered across his face. “Coming, Yura?”
Not yet. Was the cellar always so foggy? And hot? The wall wasn't supposed to tilt like that, right? It took a few seconds for the blood flow to travel back upward, but once Yuri's brain kicked into gear again, he growled. “FUCK YOU, ALTIN!” He sprinted up the stairs, the prey turning predator, and chased after Otabek's deep laughter.
Breathing ragged, body coated in sweat, Otabek collapsed into the fluffy white embrace … of winter.
Snowball fights were rough sometimes. But snowball fights while gulping vodka was a whole new level of bad ideas.
Yuri flopped down beside him, just as uncoordinated and breathless. Their aim started slipping ages ago, their carefully packed weapons of ice and snow unravelling into flimsy puffs, tickling their own faces with glacial cotton instead of striking down their 'enemy'. The near-empty bottle had disappeared into the white landscape, never to be seen again until the kiss of spring. But when Otabek turned his head, the rosy tint along Yuri's cheeks and the smile on his lips made every second of their carefree 'mistakes' worth it.
“Wanna … go back inside … and really take my breath away?” A wild, cheeky grin spread across Yuri's face. “I wanna wreck their room.”
Otabek snorted and tossed an arm over his eyes.
He could just tell Yuri that he knew all along about the key, and the note, and that Viktor and Katsuki let him drink at their house. He could remind Yuri that the husbands' room was off-limits. He could tell Yuri that this entire 'break-in' had been carefully orchestrated and guided from start to finish, with the happy couple's amused support. But Yuri coming to life and flourishing under the guise of being 'so cool' while not actually breaking any rules was a reward sweeter than the flavoured drinks in Viktor and Katsuki’s cellar.
Besides, he never did tell Yuri about the months of planning that went into that sunset reunion in Barcelona, letting his boyfriend relive those memories in whatever way made him happiest. Yuri's retelling of the event was better than any form of the truth, anyway, turning Otabek's sappy and hopeless romanticisms into a grand rescue at the hands of a 'knight in strapping leather'. Though, that story always flooded Otabek's cheeks with searing heat.
And his heart with burning pride.
Because deep down, a secret desire curled in his gut; Otabek Altin wanted to earn badass boyfriend points, too.