Work Text:
ЖЕЛАНИЕ
(Zhelaniye, The Wish)
For the first couple of days or so Yuri Plisetsky has been, quite literally, the happiest man on earth. He couldn’t even remember the last time he didn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn to drag his ass either onto the club rink or to the airport to catch a plane. So this is how it feels to have a fucking life, he had pondered with some understandable fascination on his very first quarantine morning while lazily reaching for his phone and spending the next hour and a half checking every single post on his IG feed (deliberately ignoring JJ the Wanker’s fifteen plus stories) until he had found himself scrolling through an endless streak of videos of shitheads stuffed in T-Rex suits doing all sort of bullshit and had to come to the conclusion that he needed to stop before it was too late and his brain started to leek all over the pillow or something.
On the third day, by the time he’s had his breakfast (the usual hypocaloric shit: scrambled lumpy egg whites and sad frozen spinach on toast) it’s almost eight o’clock and there’s no more social media mindless diversion, compulsive gaming session, Netflix scrolling, food porn, ultraviolent Russian metal playlists set on full volume nor cat grooming procrastination he can resort to as an excuse. There is only one priority on his agenda. An urgency that has been begging (howling even) to be acknowledged even before he opened his eyes that morning but since there’s hardly anything Yuri hates more than looking like the most pathetic idiot on the fucking planet, he played cool and did his best to ignore it. It didn't’ really work of course.
-Hey-
As soon as Otabek picks up, Yuri can sense the smile in that deep voice. Damn, he can almost picture the corners of those lips curling up a little and can’t help smiling back. At the fucking phone.
-Hey, Beka…- Shit, did he just whimper like some miserable dying dog right now?! Christ, what’s wrong with me, he shakes his head… Yuri clears his throat and gives it another shot, hoping to sound less desperate this time. –How’s Tәте?-
Otabek smiles against the fabric of his face mask. He loves when Yuri speaks Kazakh. Tәте, his aunt Amina, loves it too. And she loves the crazy Russian young man her otherwise down-to-earth nephew has completely lost his head for. –She’s doing a lot better today. They changed her medication and if the doctors are happy with the outcome of her next scans they might even send her home at the end of the week-
-Cool- Yuri stands up from the kitchen table to go to the window and stares out at the dark clouds hovering low over the rooftops. It’s going to rain soon. And he fucking hates the rain. Especially when Otabek is not around. –Tell her the next time she decides to scare the shit out of everyone it won’t be sweet, caring and proper Otabek but me she’ll have to deal with, okay?-
-I will- Otabek slowly runs his leather glove over the pile of apples in front of him. It never stops to amuse him how Yuri, even after all these years, still pretends he doesn’t care, when Otabek knows (and loves) who the Ice Tiger of Russia truly is. He has seen just how worried Yuri was when his sister had called to say Tәте’s condition had worsened again. Otabek recalls the moment Yuri had held his hand tight before reluctantly letting him join the queue at the airport security checkpoint and needs to take a deep breath. He has landed in Almaty less than three days ago and, though he’s glad to be at his aunt’s side, he’s been missing Yuri and their life together from the very first minute they’ve been apart.
-Have you had breakfast yet?-
-Yes, daddy-
Otabek smiles. -Scrambled egg whites and spinach on toast?-
-Hey, no need to rub it in, okay?- Yuri snorts. –Skaters are boring people when it comes to breakfast. Don’t act as if you are not guilty too here-
Yuri has always loved the sound of Otabek’s laughter. He just wishes he could reach out and punch his arm or something the way he does whenever feels the need to be exceptionally romantic.
-Any idea of when they’re going to reopen the ice rink yet?-
-The fuck I know- Yuri shrugs and pretends he’s not worried about the eerie turn things have taken lately. First the lockdown, then Tәте and now this fucking quarantine because some shithead at the club apparently got himself sick. –Yakov is freaking out. Like seriously. He says they’re going to cancel every single competitions this year and man, I don’t…I… Fuck, forget it-
Otabek stops right in the middle of the cereals aisle and frowns.
–Yuri-
-Hm?-
-It’s going to be okay-
-No, it’s fucking not- Yuri kicks the towel he has left on the floor after he came home from the skating club three days ago. Sure, it’s been great to spend a few days pretending he had a life for once, but the truth is that he feels completely lost at the thought of not being able to train for any major competition. He doesn’t even know who the fuck he is off the ice rink. -I’m 21, Beka. I don’t have much time left and we both know this-
Yes. Otabek knows all too well. And he knows what Yuri is going through right now. He had suffered the same disorientation before eventually taking the decision to retire for good less than six months ago.
-Anyway- Yuri let himself fall face first across the bed and eventually resolves to opt for an almost philosophical approach to deal with the whole situation. –There’s nothing I can do about it so fuck it. Maybe we should seriously start to think about getting a real job, Altin-
Yuri then embarks upon an erratic yet hilarious dissertation about all the potential alternatives they could swap their professional figure skating careers with, such as opening a katsudon piroshky cat café, launching their own kick-ass biker fashion brand, joining a djent metal band or, more realistically, upgrading to a ruthless but filthy rich oligarch life.
Otabek bursts out laughing and once again finds himself falling even more in love with the irresistible wit and dry sarcasm Yuri has clearly inherited from his grandfather. His grateful smile and fond reverie however both come to an abrupt end when something on the other side of the line suddenly goes crashing followed by some very familiar Russian swearing.
-What was that?-
-That was the vase your cousin sent us for Christmas- Yuri stares at whatever is left of the ghastly thing scattered in pieces all over the floor. –I’m afraid it had lost the will to live when you said you hated it and, well, I just gave it an unintentional yet genuinely compassionate push down the bedside table. Don’t worry, I don’t think it suffered much in the end-
-I guess I should thank you for taking care of the poor thing- Otabek shakes his head laughing. –You okay?-
-Yeah, I’ll clean up this mess later. I mean, maybe-
-Tell me- Otabek pauses for a moment. -How is it to have the bed all to yourself these days?-
Yuri catches what just hit him like a possibly unintentional flirtatious undertone in Otabek’s already impossibly sensual voice and rolls over onto his back to stare at the ceiling with a very pleased smirk on his face.
-Fucking great, I sleep, snore and fart like a drunken sailor all night long- he brags while lazily running his fingers over Otabek’s pillow. -I’m loving it-
-I see- Otabek pushes the trolley towards the checkout line. He knows all too well that, although he might occasionally fart (more for showing off purposes than for real necessity), Yuri doesn’t snore. And, above all, he knows he hates sleeping on his own.
-Beka?-
-Hm?-
-Is Tәте really going to be okay?-
It’s Otabek’s turn to smile at the phone now. -She will-
-Okay…- Yuri hesitates. -Does this mean you’re coming home soon?-
-I thought you said you loved having the bed all to yourself-
Yuri bites his lip and tries his best to hide just how happy he is at the thought of facing the rest of their first quarantine together. So he says it in the only way he knows.
-Fuck off, Altin-
When Yuri hangs up, Otabek simply stares at his phone with a lingering smile across his lips.
-Мен де сені жақсы көремін*-
~*~
Notes:
*Мен де сені жақсы көремін: (Kazakh, pronunciation: men de seni jaqsı köremin) meaning “I love you too”