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The air’s filled with the aroma of a freshly cooked meal and the pounding bass of hard rock. Yuri’s bobbing his head to the beat and harmonizing with the band, soprano adlibs accenting his every move as he sets the table. From the kitchen, Otabek watches through the doorway, unable to stop smiling. Nothing’s more beautiful than Yuri’s happiness. Even almost a year later, it still makes his gut flutter and his heart melt.
And it's the reason there’s a little velvet box in Otabek’s pocket tonight.
He’s had the ring for a while, but the timing never felt right. Between classes and assignments and exam prep—besides, how does one propose in this situation? Their relationship isn’t exactly … typical.
“Oh my gosh!” Medina squeals as she enters the dining room. “Did you make cheburek?”
“Mhmm. And borsch.”
“Yesss!” She bounces in place and beams. “Thanks, professor.”
“Medina,” Otabek chides as he collects clean glasses from the cupboard. “Stop reminding Yuri of work while he’s off campus.”
“Then why are you allowed to call him that?”
“I don’t.”
Yuri shoots him a side glance as Otabek approaches, and Medina smirks. “The walls here aren’t that thick, you know.”
The glass that topples onto the table doesn’t shatter, but Otabek’s composure does. Yuri howls, Medina looks far too proud of herself, and Otabek dies a little inside at the newest reminder that his baby sister isn’t so young anymore. The heat flooding his already warm face doesn’t help either; the downside of cooking all afternoon.
And living with both Medina and Yuri.
“Go get Katya so we can eat, you gremlin.” Without argument, his sister leaves the room, still smiling like the little shit she is, and Otabek sighs. “Must you encourage her?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Yuri shakes his head, all ‘serious’ like … for exactly two seconds. Then he grins. “But it’s fun.”
“You’re her teacher.”
“I’m yours, too.”
“Which means you’re supposed to be the mature one.”
“Seniority, who? You’re older than me, Beka.”
“You’re a terrible influence.”
“And you’re not her daddy.” Stepping into Otabak’s space, Yuri grabs his collar and yanks him closer before purring, “You are mine, though.”
Damn it.
Otabek turns a little and presses Yuri against the wall. Their kiss isn’t deep, but it doesn’t need to be. With needy lips and nipping teeth, the sparks and tingles are there regardless. As are Yuri’s devilish fingers, slinking down to cup and squeeze his ass. They shouldn’t be getting so handsy with the girls about to return, but … well, unfortunately, Medina’s already witnessed worse.
And will forever hold that over them.
Knock, knock.
Otabek frowns. Was that … the door? Strange. They aren’t expecting visitors. For a moment, he considers passing it off as nothing, maybe just some kind of salesperson making their rounds through the building to promote who knows what. It wouldn’t be the first time, and Yuri continuing to tug on his bottom lip makes ignoring it an even more tempting option—until a second set of twin knocks echoes through the apartment.
Well, it’s not like they aren’t going to be interrupted in a moment, anyway.
Yuri sighs and peels himself out from between Otabek and the wall. “I’ll get it. You finish the table.” He leaves the room, his footsteps trailing further and further down the hall. Then silence. Otabek smiles a little at the mental image of Yuri rising on his toes to look through the peephole as he returns to the kitchen to get the utensils.
A gasp and a soft curse float in from the entryway before Yuri sprints into the room, eyes wide. “We have a problem.”
A third set of knocks, this time a little more insistent, makes his partner flinch and Otabek’s stomach tighten. “Why? Who is it?”
“Otabek! Medina!”
The voice coming through the door is like a bucket of ice water.
He gapes at Yuri as rushed steps echo down the hall. The girls dart into the kitchen. Medina’s expression is likely a mirror of Otabek’s, while Ekaterina’s shuffles from one foot to the other, clinging to her girlfriend’s arm.
Well, shit. This was supposed to be a calm family dinner with just the four of them, but now …
Now the siblings have to go let their parents in.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” No, it isn’t. But bless Medina for slapping a smile across her face regardless. Otabek lost the strength to keep doing that years ago.
They love them. Of course they do. Everything’s just easier when they can keep their parents at a distance. Otabek and Medina’s lives are so different from what they expect and approve of, it’s better for everyone’s sanity and mental health that way. Usually, their parents give them some kind of heads up before a visit, which helps. But of course the universe continues to display its twisted sense of humour by making tonight of all nights the one when their parents decide to surprise them.
So much for that proposal.
“We thought so too.” Their mom looks so happy about their ‘successful’ plan, though, even Otabek manages a little smile for her.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Does a mother need one to see her children?” The siblings tense, but their parents don’t seem to notice. Their mom nudges his arm. “I’m teasing. We just wanted to visit again! It’s been so long and after hearing how well you’re both doing in school, why wait for a holiday season?”
Otabek’s shoulders droop, a ripple of guilt dropping into his gut, and Medina’s near-grimace relaxes. “That’s … actually really sweet. Thanks, mom.”
Their father hums, but his attention appears to be elsewhere as he gazes around the apartment. “This is a nice place. But how are two students affording it?”
“Ah, actually …” Ekaterina and Yuri have been there the whole time, but their silence rendered them nearly invisible until now. “The four of us room together, so we all split the rent.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right … Medina did mention something about that ...” Their mother’s dip in enthusiasm makes Otabek’s muscles coil all over again. And if the look on his sister’s face is any indication, she’s not doing much better. They’ve talked about inevitably coming out to their parents. It has to happen eventually. But here and now isn’t exactly what they had in mind.
“But this is a two-bedroom unit, isn’t it?” Leave it to their father to be all about the facts.
Okay, well … Guess that can of worms is already being pried open. Otabek withholds a sigh. “It is, yes.”
“Then who sleeps on the couches? Are they fold-outs?”
This time, Otabek does sigh. “They are, but those are for guests.” Their parents stare. The residents stare back. Otabek catches his sister’s gaze before reluctantly adding, “They … sleep with us. Yuri with me, Ekaterina with Medina.”
The two seconds that pass in utter silence are stretched into an eternity. Otabek’s stomach curls and flips as he watches their parent’s faces. Shit, this isn’t going well. There’s already a crease in their brows and—“Oh, thank Allah!”
Wait, what?
The four of them gape but thankfully don’t have to wait another eon-filled second to understand. Their mother takes hold of her children’s hands and beams. “This makes much more sense than we thought when we first heard you planned to move in with your partners!” She nods at her husband. “They’ve split the rooms up by gender so they aren’t tempted before marriage!”
Oh, boy.
It takes all of Otabek’s willpower to not facepalm.
The siblings don’t want to lie to their parents, but if they’re going to come to incorrect conclusions on their own, Otabek and Medina shouldn’t point it out, right? They should ride the wave and be glad their dinner isn’t being ruined by a tide of queerphobia.
At least, that’s what he tells himself as they give their parents a tour of the apartment. Including the bedrooms.
Yuri disappeared without a word the moment the suggestion was made, and Otabek didn’t have to guess why; he was cleaning up. They aren’t messy people, neither of the couples str, but in the privacy of their own rooms, they’re not always conscious of ensuring their … things are put away. And there’s a fine line between wanting to be honest with the Altins and having that conversation.
Even still, when they step into the boy’s bedroom, Otabek’s tense until he witnesses for himself that yes, the toys are out of sight.
Their mother compliments their choice of sheets while their father gripes about how small their closet is, but considering the huge bullet they’re dodging … Yeah, sure. The closet is the problem here.
The irony is so palpable, Otabek can almost taste it.
It’s bitter with a hint of salt.
When they move on to the girls' room, though, Yuri darts past them all while Medina has their parents’ attention—and punts something under the bed. What the hell? He returns to Otabek’s side immediately after, forced smile plastered on. Ekaterina mouths ‘thanks’. Yuri tips his chin but otherwise doesn’t say a word until the Altins file out of the room, following the girls back through the hallway.
Gut doing all kinds of strange acrobatics, Otabek turns to Yuri. “Do I want to know what that was?”
No hesitation—Yuri looks his boyfriend right in the eyes as he says, “Absolutely not.”
“So, you all go to the same university?”
Back in the dining room, additional chairs and place settings acquired, the six of them are settled in for their meal. It’s a good thing they always make extra when they cook. The intention’s for the leftovers to be lunch for the next day, but no one complains. At this point, Otabek’s sure they all just want to get through this dinner without incident.
Thriving with the Altins here isn’t possible. He just hopes surviving is.
“… Yes?” Ekaterina looks around the table and gets a nod from the others, so she repeats her answer, this time with a nod of her own and more confidence. “Yes.” Technically, it isn’t a lie.
“And what do you study?”
“I’m in an undergraduate dance program.”
“Oh, that sounds nice.”
“It is!” Ekaterina genuinely smiles for the first time since their arrival. “I’m really enjoying it.”
“And what about afterward?”
The smile slips away. “… Afterward?”
“Well, that’s just your hobby, right? With Otabek working, you won’t need a job, after all.”
What was that about surviving?
Otabek bites his tongue, literally. Yuri purses his lips. Ekaterina looks like a deer in headlights until Medina speaks up. “Of course.” Her grin is a little too wide as she sets a hand on her brother’s thigh and squeezes. Hard. “We’re just … keeping busy until our boyfriends can support us full-time.”
“Right, yes.” Ekaterina nods, and Otabek can almost feel a part of their souls collectively shrivelling up.
At least their parents seem satisfied, though. Someone might as well be when this is all said and done. “And what about you, Yuri? Do you and Otabek study together?”
“… something like—”
“Oh, yes,” Medina cuts in. What the hell? Everyone’s head turns to her again, but this time her smile’s much more … devious. Oh no. See, this is why Yuri’s a bad influence. Medina’s always been a little sassy, but Otabek swears it’s gotten worse since meeting their professor. “They study together a lot.”
“Medina,” he mumbles.
“They’re very dedicated.”
“ Medina.”
“Otabek, don’t interrupt your sister.”
“In fact, they’re particularly fond of the library.”
Yuri chokes, and Otabek prays for the first time in years.
Somehow, someway, they make it through dinner. After the boys’ near-death experience, the conversation recovered. Mostly, anyway. It still wavered into dangerous territory a few times, like when the Altins asked what Yuri’s career plans were, but they managed to find a balance between honesty and redirection.
As awkward as the night’s been since Otabek and Medina’s parents arrived, things have gone relatively smoothly.
Now they just need to get through the rest of the evening.
“That was a wonderful dinner, ladies.”
“… ah.” The girls stare at Otabek and Yuri; the two who actually cooked their meal. But the slight shake of Otabek’s head has Medina saying, “Thank you,” on their behalf.
Medina and Ekaterina fall into shockingly easy conversation with their mother. Otabek wonders if it’s some of his sister’s childhood training coming back into play. She’s never been a bad kid. If anything, she’s always been a ‘better’ kid than he was, by their family’s standards. But she’s come so far in discovering the world, in discovering herself, since moving in with him, and he’s never been more proud.
The minutes slog by and despite knowing that staring at the time constantly will make everything move slower, Otabek can’t help it. He just wants the night to be over so they can end the facade of being heterosexual couples. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being straight, none of them would ever claim otherwise.
It just isn’t who they are.
As yawns start infecting the room, Otabek rises to announce it’s time to turn in for the night—
“What … did you say your last name is again, Yuri?”
They all look at the sibling’s father. “… Plisetsky. Why?”
Otabek’s innards freeze as his father holds up the local newspaper.
On the front is a picture of Yuri himself in one of his best suits, sitting at his desk in the university. It’s technically nothing special, just a weekly interview the city’s been doing with the faculty after the school received national recognition for its immersive and ingenuitive approach to the arts, social sciences, and business. But the headline reads, Who Is: Professor Yuri Plisetsky.
Well, shit.
On the one hand, Otabek knew their carefully constructed Jenga tower of misinformation wouldn’t hold forever. On the other, he hoped it would at least last until tomorrow. But he’s already accepted the universe has it out for him at this point and is just glad the situation isn’t any worse.
Objectively.
As voices rise and accusations about Yuri using his power to ‘take advantage of Medina’ fill the air, the four of them scramble to quell the Altins’ concerns without yanking all their secrets out of the closet—when something rolls across the floor.
Heads turn as Potya hops out from under the couch to pounce on a little velvet box that’s very much no longer in Otabek’s pocket.