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SPARKFEED PRESENTS: Olympians Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin Play Truth or Drink
We're only a few months out from the 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics and to celebrate, Sparkfeed News has been interviewing famous Olympic couples! This week, we are joined by figure skaters Yuri Plisetsky of Russia and Otabek Altin of Kazakhstan, who hold an astonishing number of medals between them. They worked us into their busy training schedules to talk about their favorite programs, their fellow skaters, and a few shocking revelations. Watch the video to learn more!
[The video begins with Yuri and Otabek, dressed in their official team jackets, sitting across from each other at a plain table with two lines of full shot glasses between them. They’re turned to stare head-on into the cameras, unsmiling, a stark contrast to the cheerful music playing as the video title flashes between them.]
Why don’t you two introduce yourselves?
Yuri rolls his eyes as he leans his elbow on the table and props his cheek on his fist. “Is there anyone clicking on this video who doesn’t know who we are?” Otabek cuts him a look, and Yuri sighs dramatically before leaning forward to stare into the camera. “Okay. If for some reason you have no clue who I am, my name is Yuri Nikolaevich Plisetsky, and I’m a Russian figure skater. I was the 2018 Olympic gold medalist in men’s singles, and I plan on retaining my title at Beijing 2022.”
He tilts his head to look at Otabek, who nods minutely. “And I’m Otabek Altin. I’m a figure skater from Kazakhstan. I took bronze in men’s singles at the 2018 Olympics—”
“Should’ve been silver, those—” Yuri jumps like he’s been kicked, and pinches his lips shut.
“—and I hope to medal again at the upcoming Olympics.” There’s a beat of silence, as others wait to see if he plans on saying more, before the off-screen interviewer moves onto the next question.
How long have you two been together as a couple?
Yuri says, “Nearly five years,” right as Otabek states, “Just over four years.” They glance over the table at each other. Yuri narrows his eyes while Otabek remains impassive.
[The interviewer laughs.]
Is there some disagreement on when you two started dating?
“...No,” Yuri says sourly, still glaring at his partner. “I just like to round up.”
“And I prefer accuracy,” Otabek replies.
Fair enough. Are you two ready to play?
“If it means I get to drink, then fu- I mean, hell yes. Can I say that? Is hell okay?”
Sure, that’s fine. Just try to keep the f-bombs to a minimum if you could.
Otabek snorts, and Yuri reaches across the table to playfully smack him in the shoulder. “I can do it! I’ve only said it like twice on TV!”
“That’s because your coaches always stay close whenever there’s a camera in sight.”
“Then you’ll just have to keep me on my best behavior,” Yuri tells him cheekily.
And on that note, let’s get started! The rules are simple: you answer the question or you drink. Since this is part of a series on Olympic couples, we have some global themed mystery shots in front of you, so have fun guessing. And, the most important part — if you each answer seven of the ten questions, we have a surprise for you two that we think you’re both going to love!
First question: Which routine would you like to steal from the other?
“Oh, easy. Your 2019-2020 free skate, specifically the one you did at Worlds that season.”
Otabek furrows his brow. “Not either of my Olympic skates?”
Yuri emphatically shakes his head, blonde hair tangling around his face. “That was a great set of skates, don’t get me wrong, and your short program for that is probably in my top three of your routines, but it was built to win. Your 2020 Worlds free skate… it just felt more like you, y’know? And it looked fun as hell to skate. Dramatic and powerful, and really cool.”
“It felt like I was skating on a stress fracture,” Otabek retorts dryly. “But I’m glad you liked it so much. It was one of my favorites, too.” He pauses, then asks, “What’s the other skate in your top three for me?”
A wicked grin curls across Yuri’s face. “Welcome to the Madness of course.” He glances at the camera and adds, “That was our exhibition skate at the 2014 Grand Prix Final in Barcelona for those of you not in the loop.”
Otabek crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “That was your skate. I just assisted.”
“Yeah, well, I saw the gifs and memes online, and there were just as many of you as there were of me.” Yuri bounces in his seat. “C’mon, quit arguing and tell me which one of my skates would you wanna steal!”
A deep look of concentration settles onto Otabek’s face. Yuri continues to fidget in his seat but stays silent until Otabek leans forward to rest his arms on the table.
“2016-2017 short program.”
“Is that just because you like the Rolling Stones?” Yuri laughs, clearly startled but pleased.
“Doesn’t hurt,” Otabek says with a barely-there grin. “That, and the elements felt similar enough to mine that I could actually pull it off. It was also the first time you had a lot of creative control, and it captured a lot of who you were, as a skater and a person. It told the world you weren’t going down without a fight after the prior season, and I liked that.”
“God, don’t remind me about the cursed season. Oh, hey.”
Yuri swipes a shot of clear liquid off the table, knocking it back before anyone can say a word. “Vodka. A great way to start this sh- stuff, and to forget the memories of puberty.”
Uh, you don’t have to drink unless you’re skipping the question.
“You think I’m normally allowed to drink during the season? I’m gonna take advantage of this while I can.”
Otabek shrugs. “He’s got a point.” He takes the matching glass from his row, leans forward to clink it against Yuri’s empty one, then swallows it down.
Yuri grins mischievously and brushes the hair out of his face before turning to face the camera. “Bring it on. We’re ready to play.”
All right then! Bouncing off the last question, what is your least favorite routine the other one has done?
Yuri props his chin on a hand and stares across the table. “I think I know which one you’re going to say.”
“Oh?”
“If I guess right, you gotta do the dishes next time. If I’m wrong, I’ll do the dishes.”
Otabek considers the offer, then reaches for a shot glass.
The hollering is instantaneous. “What? What?! No, hell no, you gotta tell me now.” Yuri’s hand shoots out to grab the drink from Otabek, but his boyfriend is faster.
Their scrunched faces mirror each other for very different reasons. “Absinthe. I thought it was Midori,” Otabek croaks. He takes a healthy sip of seltzer before finally saying, “I know you. I could say any skate you’ve ever done, even one I know for a fact you didn’t like, and it would still be an argument for the next six months.” Yuri’s frown deepens, but as he opens his mouth to respond, Otabek cuts him off with the killing blow. “Plus, I know you won’t actually do the dishes even if I win.”
An array of emotions flashes across Yuri’s face, but eventually he simply hunches his shoulders and grumbles, “Your 2016-2017 short program.”
“Liar,” Otabek reprimands him affectionately.
“Yeah, I know,” Yuri says, already reaching for the matching green glass.
A pass from both of you then. Maybe this next question will be easier! As you know, we filmed your fellow figure skaters, Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov, for this series—
Yuri blows a raspberry.
—who are widely known to be inspirations to you both, as rivals and mentors. For any viewers who are unfamiliar with those names, check out the previous video!
Viktor Nikiforov is the most decorated male singles figure skater—
“Not for long.”
—and Yuuri Katsuki is known as one of the most beautiful and emotional skaters of his generation. They are also husbands, coaches, and choreographers! You both skated against them in a number of competitions, including the Olympics, and both men have choreographed routines for you. There are also rumors—
“Please, get to the question.”
Who is the Yuuri and who is the Viktor in this relationship?
“Kill me,” Yuri says with feeling as he knocks back a shot. “Thank god for gin.”
Otabek turns to face the camera and tilts his head towards Yuri. “Viktor.”
[The video cuts as Yuri begins yelling in Russian.]
Yuri, you’ve already skipped two questions. You can only skip one more before you forfeit your prize!
“Is it an Olympic gold medal? Or a literal pile of kittens? Because unless it’s either or both of those, I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
You’ll have to wait and see!
So, it’s pretty well-documented that you two were friends before you got together romantically. What’s been the most surprising thing you’ve learned about each other after you started dating?
Yuri and Otabek glance at each other. Their gazes hold steady for several seconds until Yuri bursts out laughing while Otabek grins at him.
“Oh man, I feel like I should drink. He’s gonna kick me to the couch if I reveal the man behind the curtain,” Yuri teases, tossing a look at the camera.
“It’s fine, I have worse on you.”
Yuri abruptly stops laughing and stares wide-eyed at Otabek. “Are you talking about the…” He waves his hand around in the air. Otabek raises an eyebrow and pointedly says nothing. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Otabek’s grin slinks into a smirk. “Better be careful what you say then.”
“Should we both just drink then?” Yuri asks as his hand inches towards the row of shot glasses.
Otabek gives a brief head shake. “You’re acting like you can carry your liquor better than you can even in the off-season.”
“Oh piss off, I’m just a lightweight compared to you.”
“And Katsuki, and Mila, and Viktor—”
“Really? Is this the hill you wanna die on?” Yuri fully turns towards the camera, eyes blazing in a solemn face. “Otabek Altin is the biggest dork I’ve ever met. And I’ve had to share a rink with Viktor Nikiforov for years.
Otabek instantly fires back. “I already knew how little impulse control Yuri could have in specific situations. It wasn’t until we first shared an apartment during the offseason for a month that I realized—”
Yuri, still looking at the camera, flails as he tries to leap across the table to slap a hand over Otabek’s mouth. Multiple glasses tip over as he raises his voice over Otabek’s rumbling. “He has you all fooled with the motorcycle, and the leather jackets, and the DJing, and the bad[bleep] skating routines, but this guy—”
“Online shopping boxes everywhere the first three days. I thought it was just stuff he wanted for the apartment that we didn’t already have. But—”
“Beka sings! All the time! But it’s never popular songs, nooooo—”
“It’s all things for the cats. Toys, outfits, expensive treats. I swear the cats have more things in the cupboards than we—”
“He makes up the weirdest songs! Just random nonsense things! I couldn’t even begin to describe them, they’re so ridiculous and funny—”
“I think he takes some sponsorship deals just to enable his online shopping addiction for his cats. I’m afraid if we get a third cat, it’ll bankrupt him.”
“I already knew he was funny, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this! And he’s banned me from recording it and sharing it, so nobody believes me!”
Otabek finally sighs, swiveling in his seat to face Yuri. “You act like you don’t sing to the cats.”
Yuri jabs back, “You act like you don’t impulse buy the weirdest snacks at the grocery store that you know neither of us will eat or should eat, but you just want to try them and then you make me eat the weird durian chips, too.”
Silence falls for the first time in a minute as the yelling stops. The two men stare at each other, shoulders tense.
Otabek is the first to break, his mouth curling up into a smile as his eyes crinkle. It’s the final blow for Yuri who falls back into his chair and laughs in deep, ragged breaths, with tears streaming down his cheeks.
[The video cuts away, then resumes with Yuri wiping his eyes with the edge of his jacket. The table has been cleaned up and the shot glasses refilled.]
Well, that was fun! I think we’ll count that as answering the question—
“You [bleep] better.”
“Yura.”
“[Bleep].”
—so let’s move onto the next question!
You two are in a long-distance relationship—
Yuri snorts. “What? Really? Kazakhstan and Russia are only next door. I just hop on a train and see him after practice then head home in time for bed.” Sarcasm shines through his saccharine smile while Otabek shakes his head at him and angles himself towards the camera.
“During the last several seasons, yes. We did our best to spend time together during the off-season. However, I recently moved to St. Petersburg for the 2021-2022 season. Beijing will be my final Olympics, and I wanted to ensure I was setting myself up for success.”
He looks startled when Yuri reaches across the table to rest a hand on his clenched, interlaced fingers. “It’s going to be fu- effing incredible.” Yuri glances towards the camera with an intent look. “He’s not the ‘Dark Horse of Kazakhstan’ or whatever anymore, but you all should be prepared to be surprised.”
“And you say you don’t sound like Viktor,” Otabek says quietly, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.
“They literally just finished cleaning the mess up. Let’s not make the interns go through that again.”
[The interviewer clears their throat.]
There are a lot of struggles that come with long distance relationships. Has there ever been a time where it got so hard you two thought about calling it off?
Otabek and Yuri look at each other, then wordlessly reach for a pair of shot glasses. They cheers each other, their energy subdued but still warm, and lift the glasses to their mouths.
“Wait, hold on.”
Otabek pauses while Yuri sniffs his shot glass, then immediately makes a face.
“Gimme that. Here, this one looks like bourbon or whiskey, take that.” Yuri slides one of his shots onto Otabek’s side of the table and brusquely gestures at his partner, who duly hands over the one in his grip.
“Beka hates tequila,” Yuri explains to the camera before they both drink.
We’re halfway there! Five more questions to go. How are you both feeling?
Both men sip their chasers. “Older than I am,” Yuri says dryly as he rolls his shoulders. “I may have been ambitious with that first shot.”
“Par for the course,” Otabek murmurs, barely audible in the microphone. He barely flinches when Yuri dips his fingertips into a glass and flicks the liquid at him.
Ready to dive back in?
“I think we’re legally obligated to say yes.”
Which figure skater would your partner dump you for if they thought they had a chance?
“Drink,” Yuri commands. Otabek doesn’t move a muscle.
“For the love of all that is holy, please drink.”
“Are you going to answer the question?” Otabek asks instead. Yuri’s eyes are close to bulging with his apparent attempt to mind-speak with his partner.
“If I do, will you drink?”
The corner of Otabek’s mouth ticks up. “They probably already know about your cru—”
“I know where you sleep,” Yuri hisses.
“Do you think you’re in a position to be making threats?”
“I said please like five seconds ago! But that clearly didn’t get me anywhere!”
Otabek lets him stew for another moment before pulling a glass towards him. “Are you sure this is the one you want me to drink on? There might be a worse one later.”
“It literally cannot be worse than this one.”
With a shrug that says it’s your funeral, Otabek takes the shot then glances down appreciatively. “You should try this one. It tastes like something my coaches would normally yell at me for even thinking about, let alone drinking.”
“I’m gonna answer the question,” Yuri reassures the camera as he sips his matching drink without a second thought. “Oh [bleep], this is good. What is this?”
[A few people talk quietly off-screen before a staffer pipes up.]
I think that was cachaça. It’s a spirit made from sugar cane.
“You called it,” Yuri tells Otabek. “Our diets are so effed.”
“I’m more worried about how those five shots are going to hit you in the next half-hour,” Otabek comments, glancing up and down Yuri’s frame. “Either drink some water or answer the question.”
Yuri sneers, then collapses into a slouch and a sigh. “Realistically, if you dumped me, I don’t think it would be for another figure skater. Just want that on the record.” He fiddles with the edge of his jacket then mutters, “Ugh, I don’t have a [bleep] clue.”
“Didn’t you say you weren’t going to swear on camera?”
“Sober Yuri always makes optimistic promises Drunk Yuri has no intention of keeping.”
“Oh, good. We’ve already hit the point where you’re talking in third person.”
“Leo,” Yuri snarls in retaliation. “You’d dump me for Leo. Happy?”
“Mostly just amused that you think that it would be him.” Otabek turns to face the camera. “You know where to find me, Leo. Call me.”
“Oh, you were giving me [bleep] for being tipsy, but now you’re Mr. Four-Shots-Funny-Guy—”
[The video cuts away as Yuri starts to drop expletives in multiple languages.]
[The interviewer awkwardly laughs.]
Sounds like the alcohol is really starting to kick in!
Yuri is red in the face and still huffing. Otabek continues to hold a deadpan expression, even as he cracks open a water bottle and passes it across the table to his boyfriend. “You could say that.”
Think you’re both good for another question?
“Thanks,” Yuri says quietly before taking a long drink. “Yeah, we’re good. Do your worst.”
You may regret saying that! Question #7: Everyone knows about the Olympic Village and the, ah, hijinks people get up to. This will be the second time attending for both of you. What’s the worst thing you did the first time? And are you planning on having any repeat performances?
“Did you get this straight from the Yuri Angels’ official twitter account?” Yuri snorts, his words on the edge of slurring, as he recaps the water bottle.
“Shouldn’t have skipped the ‘who’s Viktor and who’s Yuuri” question,” Otabek remarks as he sips his chaser, glancing up through his eyelashes to meet Yuri’s glare with obviously feigned innocence.
“Bite me.”
Otabek huffs an amused laugh and shoots a pointed look at Yuri, who snaps his head to stare at the wall. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t quite hide how pink his ears are. Otabek cajoles him in Russian, which sends Yuri hunkering down even further into his seat. He says something, though the microphone is too far away to pick it up. Whatever he says brings a smirk to Otabek’s face, who says in English, “You want to go first then?”
Yuri whips around in a flurry of golden hair and red rage. “Threesome. Maybe.” He jerks his thumb at Otabek. “Same answer for him. Next question.”
“He’s right,” Otabek confirms, before glancing at Yuri. “You know after the previous question, they’re all going to think it was Leo, right?”
“[Bleep] my life. Is it too late to cancel this interview?”
Yep! So why don’t we move on to the next question. What is something you’ve never told the other?
“You’re gonna give us whiplash with all these questions,” Yuri says, shaking his head as he stares at Otabek, a wry smile crawling onto his face. “Is there anything left to tell?”
Otabek’s shoulders hitch in the smallest of shrugs. He reaches forward to play with an empty shot glass, and Yuri’s eyes narrow. “There’s something.”
“Yeah.”
“You wanna share now or later? Because there’s no way you’re not telling me.” To make his preference clear, Yuri clatters out of his chair, drops an arm between Otabek and the line of shots, and slides all the glasses to Yuri’s side of the table.
Otabek’s mouth twitches. “Are you sure you want it on camera? It could be embarrassing.”
“This whole thing is embarrassing. And yet, here we are.”
“Fair.” With a sigh, Otabek leans back, rolls his neck, then locks eyes with Yuri. “Katsuki told me he was retiring before he told you.”
Yuri’s mouth drops open, dumbstruck. “What? What the hell? Why? Wait, no, when was this?”
“He asked for advice on when and how to tell you he was retiring. It ended up being only a few days before he talked to you about it,” he adds, his eyes searching.
“Huh.” Yuri leans back in his chair, tipping the front two legs off the ground, as he thinks for a few moments. Otabek watches his every move.
Finally: “Was he gonna do something stupid, like text me? Or tell me right after his very last competition?”
“He and Viktor had considered a number of options. Those... may have been included.”
Yuri snorts and drops his chair back to the ground with a thump. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” He flashes a quick smile at Otabek. “Not mad. Probably should be grateful.”
The smile Otabek returns is small but sincere as his shoulders loosen with the release of tension. “Your turn. Hopefully it won’t be too devastating.”
“Ah yes, this probably wouldn’t be the best time to tell you I’ve been having an affair with your brother for the past two years, or that I’ve been paying off the judges this whole time.”
“For you or for me? Which competitions?”
“Notice how he skips right over the cheating part. This, everyone, is the reality of dating a professional figure skater,” Yuri tells the camera. He giggles and jerks back when Otabek kicks him. “Oh god, I really am starting to feel the booze.”
“Good thing we aren’t sitting on the same side of the table,” Otabek murmurs, his words barely caught on camera, and Yuri flushes even pinker.
“Shut up, oh my god.”
“Then start talking.”
Yuri presses his hands to his face and makes an incoherent series of squeaks and noises. Eventually, he peels back his fingers to look at his partner. “I didn’t forget my coat when we went out after the Skate Canada gala. I left it behind on purpose.”
Otabek says nothing. He merely raises an eyebrow.
For a long few seconds, it’s silent, save for the sounds of Yuri fidgeting in his seat, until he bursts out, “It was Mila’s idea, okay? She said if I wanted to know how you felt, then I should set up a test, and seeing if you would give me your jacket was a tried and true meth...od…”
Yuri trails off as he stares open-mouthed at Otabek, who is biting his lip and stiffly frozen in place. “You [bleep], you knew, didn’t you?”
It’s the final straw for Otabek. Warm chuckles pour from his mouth, despite the hand he presses to his face in a feeble attempt to hold back the tide. “Yura, you never go anywhere without one jacket, minimum. You’re always cold. Of course I knew what you were doing, the second you walked outside.”
“I hate you. I hate everyone. I hate this game.”
Otabek reaches across the table to tug at Yuri’s hand. He brings it to his mouth, delicately kissing the white knuckles. “I love you. Thank you for telling me.”
Yuri snatches his hand back. “That,” he spits, “is cheating.”
Oh my gosh, you two are so sweet. No wonder those secret TikToks Viktor keeps filming of you two keep going viral.
Yuri and Otabek both sigh and share exasperated looks. Then, Otabek’s face suddenly lights up with a mischievous glint. “Hashtag couple goals,” he says, in an obvious mimicry of the legendary Viktor Nikiforov.
“No, oh god,” Yuri squeaks as he tries to smother himself in his arms. “Not on camera.”
“Yurochka, our love can be an inspiration—”
“Beka,” Yuri heaves. “Viktor’s going to kill us.”
“He won’t be able to catch me with his knees.”
Yuri devolves into a fit of hysterical laughter. “Y-Y-You— He—”
Otabek, eyes twinkling, turns to the camera. “We might need a minute.”
[The video cuts away, then returns to a smiling pair of men.]
We’re in the final stretch! If you could go back in time and tell yourself anything, what would it be? And what would you tell each other?
“That sounds like two questions to me,” Yuri objects lightly, but his knee starts bouncing as he falls into a contemplative expression. “Dunno what I’d tell you. I’m tempted to say, ‘Don’t be a loser and actually talk to me at Yakov’s training camp,’ but I don’t think that would’ve worked out well for either of us.” Otabek nods in agreement, frowning down at the table, and Yuri plows on. “This is actually really tough. I like how things are now, y’know? I mean we could both use a few more gold medals, and maybe there are a few annoying things we could’ve both avoided, but it all brought us here. I don’t wanna lose that.” He shrugs, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. “Don’t wanna lose you.”
The moment is immediately lost when Yuri snaps his head up before Otabek can barely open his mouth. “If you call me Viktor, I’ll sacrifice you to the skating gods.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, zhanym.” Otabek says solemnly.
“Bastard,” Yuri retorts, swinging his legs. “What would you tell yourself?”
“Winning lottery numbers, I suppose. Or not to leave my mixer in Pavel’s car after that one show, when it got stolen.”
“Lame.”
“You choose to date lame, so what does that say about you?” Otabek dryly remarks. “What would you say to yourself?”
Yuri hums thoughtfully, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he absently stares at the table. “‘Spite’s a powerful motivator, but it isn’t everything,’” he eventually says, carefully choosing each word, though brazenly honest with liquid courage. “It’s what Viktor tried to get across to me with Agape, but he wasn’t great at communicating it and I wasn’t great at listening. I spent a lot of time being angry, which just sort of comes with the territory of being an international skating prodigy during puberty, but it didn’t necessarily help me build the best habits.” Yuri shrugs. “Someone probably should’ve locked me in a room with a sports psychologist back then, but they probably didn’t want to risk losing an arm.”
“Would you have listened to advice like that?”
Yuri lets out a bark of laughter. “No, probably not, not even from my future self. I was a stubborn sh- brat.”
“Not any worse than me,” Otabek says ruefully.
“You were a different sort of stubborn brat. Your coaches didn’t want to regularly strangle you at least.” Yuri slouches back into his chair and jerks his chin up at Otabek. “What would you tell past me?”
Otabek hesitates, then deadpans, “That one day you would willingly attend JJ’s wedding.”
“Seriously?!” Yuri sputters. “I was practically forced to go! I only agreed because you were going to be there!”
“Mmhmm.”
“Don’t give me that look, and don’t give me that stupid answer!” Yuri lifts a leg and kicks the table, sloshing some of the remaining shots. “Both your answers sucked. Give me at least one good one.”
“I really don’t know. I’ve been lucky in that I don’t have a tremendous amount of things I regret that I could conceivably change with a warning or some advice.”
You’ve both had some injuries in your careers, like that broken ankle that forced you to withdraw from the Cup of Nice last year, Otabek. Would you go back and tell yourself not to attempt the move that resulted in that injury?
Otabek and Yuri firmly shake their heads. “No,” the Kazakhstani skater tells the interviewer. “You can’t afford to be afraid when you’re a figure skater. Those who are don’t last long on the ice.” He taps a finger on the table then glances up at Yuri. “I was never scared of the ice, but I did worry about everything else when I was younger. After Yakov’s ballet camp…”
He trails off, and Yuri cocks his head. “You said that’s when you decided to make your own path. You were the most intensely confident and philosophical 13 year old I’ve ever heard of.”
That forces a chuckle out of Otabek. “It was much easier to say that than to live with the reality of that decision. There’s a reason I switched coaches and moved to different rinks as often as I did. But sitting where I am now, I know it was the right choice for me.
“If I could speak to my past self, I would tell myself not to give up, no matter how many people who thought they knew better, and even I thought knew better, told me that there was no way I could succeed on the path that I was on.” Otabek gazes at Yuri, eyes flicking up to his hair and back down to his questioning. “But it’s worth it. There’s all sorts of gold waiting for me in the future.” He smiles at Yuri, who covers his mic with one one and hides his mouth from the camera with his other hand, and says something to Otabek.
The look Otabek gives him is unquestionably adoring.
Well, that sets us up perfectly for our last question I think:
When did you know you were in love?
Yuri rests his chin on his hand again, barely acknowledging the cameras. “A few months into really talking I guess. Maybe a year? We weren’t even dating yet, god. I don’t know. I was 16, 17, I don’t even know if that counts.” He laughs flippantly. “It was something like love I guess. But I kept on loving you, and I guess it grew with us. I just know I love you now.”
He suddenly seems to realize what he’s said and he buries his face in his arms, his voice barely audible as he mutters, “Oh god, that was way too much, that was so embarrassing.” Otabek chuckles, and Yuri lifts his head just high enough to flash him a sour look. “Don’t [bleep] laugh at me. Say something embarrassing too, so I’ll feel better.”
“You’d probably feel better if you had some water.”
“Piss off.”
Otabek reaches across the table to unscrew Yuri’s water bottle and nudges him in the head with it. Yuri unfolds himself, but instead of taking the bottle, he flops across the table, narrowly missing the shot glasses, and plants a kiss on Otabek’s cheek. Satisfied, he settles back in his seat and finally takes the water bottle. “Gotta give the fans something to turn into a gif and scream over,” he says with a wink aimed at the camera before gulping down a mouthful of water. “C’mon, start talking.”
Otabek pulls no punches. “I think I first fell in love with Yuri when I was 13.”
He leans backwards as Yuri sprays water all over the table. Otabek has a small smirk on his face, though he gets out of his seat to rub Yuri’s back as he continues to hack up water.
Eventually Yuri wheezes, “What the [bleep]?!”
“You said to say something embarrassing, didn’t you?”
“I’m going to divorce you.”
“We aren’t married.”
“I’m going to marry you, just so I can steal all your money and then divorce you.”
“That’s fine. I’m sure the heartbreak will inspire a lot of great routines and new tracks.”
Yuri smacks him in the chest. “Don’t you [bleep] dare with that silver linings bull[bleep]! I’m divorcing you! Be more sad!” He wrinkles his face in displeasure, though his body language is loose and easy, and he smacks Otabek again.
“What was that one for?” Otabek chuckles.
“For lying, again. You’re going to ruin your reputation.”
“Viktor and Yakov both warned me that dating you would have that effect, so it’s probably too late for me anyway.” Otabek dodges Yuri’s third hit and strolls back to his seat. “There wasn’t really a moment for me either, but if I had to pick one, it would be at that one party.” He waits patiently as realization dawns on Yuri’s face.
“You mean when—” Yuri cuts himself off when Otabek gives a slight shake of his head.
“Yes, but I don’t want to say anything else. That memory is ours.”
Yuri’s mouth softly curves upwards. “Yeah. It is.”
The moment hangs between them, secretive and warm, in a way the camera desperately tries to capture. It’s broken in short order though when Yuri says, “I think that was ten questions. Want to take one more shot to celebrate?”
“You’re going to sleep poorly tonight,” Otabek warns him, but nevertheless he reaches for a glass. They cheers each other, then knock the shots back with synchrony so perfect it would have any ice dancing pair writhing in jealousy.
Congratulations! You each answered seven of the questions, which means you get a special prize! Yuri, do you remember what you wished the surprise was?
“Honestly, it’s a miracle I remember my own name right now considering this is the first alcohol I’ve had in months.”
That’s fair. Let me remind you then — you asked for either an Olympic gold medal or—
Yuri bolts upright. “Oh my god.”
[A soft mewling can be heard offscreen.]
A pile of kittens!
“Oh my god.”
Yuri thrusts out both hands to accept the tiny striped kitten a staff member carefully ferries to the table. He looks reverent as the kitten tries to scramble out of his grip and he clutches it close to his chest. “Shhh, oh hello, you’re so cute, please stop trying to escape, I really don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
He slithers out of his chair, his movements lubricated by booze, and collapses to the floor, out of sight of the cameras. “This way she won’t hurt herself if she falls!” He calls out.
[The cameras cut away, then return, this time angled at the floor, where Yuri sits cross-legged as he attempts to corral three kittens in his lap, while Otabek sits next to him, a snow-white kitten dozing easily in the crook of his arm.]
Yuri chides one of the kittens in Russian as it sinks its claws into his pants. [ English captions flash on the screen: “You little warlord, don’t you know I’m bigger than you? If you really want to hurt me, you need to use the element of surprise.” ] Otabek chuckles, running a gentle knuck up and down his kitten’s back.
Switching to English, Yuri glances up at the people behind the camera. “Whose kittens are these? Do they have names?”
They’re from the local humane society. Once they’re old enough, they’ll be put up for adoption and the owners will pick their names, but they do have nicknames for now. The lighter striped one on your knee is Pringles, the darker striped one you’re holding is Ruffles, the white and grey spotted one is Cheetos, and for some reason the white one Otabek is holding is called Pop Tart? Not sure what happened to the naming scheme there, but it is a cute name.
“Pop Tart?” Yuri’s voice wobbles as he turns to look at Otabek and the white kitten. “Oh no. Beka. Her name is Pop Tart. Isn’t that so dumb?”
“Yura…”
Big, glistening tears begin to roll down Yuri’s cheeks. “I love her so much, Beka. Pop Tart. She’s called Pop Tart!”
And then the dam well and truly bursts, and Yuri Plisetsky begins drunk-sobbing on camera while attempting to snuggle three kittens at once. “I just love them so much,” he chokes out. He switches back to Russian a moment later and rattles off a short plea. [ English captions pop up on the screen: “Bekaaa, Potya and Czarina need more friends! Can we take one of them home? Or all of them? Maybe Viktor and Yuuri would take one, and Mila could take another, and we could just take two, and they could still see each other!” ] His eyes are wide and his smile is innocently earnest, while his hands never stop moving as they entertain and protect his tiny hoard of kittens.
Otabek stares at his partner, his expression more closed off than it has been since they first started. Then, without any warning, a thin trickle of tears begin to fall from his eyes.
Yuri’s reaction is instantaneous. “Beka? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Otabek lifts his free hand to scrub at his cheeks and does his best to hide his face afterwards. “I just love you so much,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m sorry, I think I drank too much. But I need you to know how much I love you. You know that, right?”
“Come here, you big dork.”
Yuri scoots over, pressing his shoulder against Otabek’s, and sacrifices an arm to loop it around his partner. Pringles, Ruffles, and Cheetos, delighted to suddenly have more legs to play on, crawl between their laps.
“We’re disasters. We should never be allowed to drink again.”
“This is going to go viral, isn’t it.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Yura.”
“Yeah, Beka?”
“I might vomit later.”
“Oh, me too.”
“Everyone’s going to make fun of us, aren’t they.”
“Yep.”
Yuri pulls back his head to meet Otabek’s look. They both shrug, then face the camera. “Please support us at the Olympics,” Otabek says flatly, tear stains still visible on his cheeks as he flashes a thumbs-up at the camera.
Hoisting Pringles and Ruffles in the air, Yuri tucks their squirming fluffy bodies dangerously close to his face. “Please consider adopting these kittens. Or don’t, so I can take them home. But there are other animals that need adopting, so go adopt one.”
[Upbeat music begins to play. The video changes to a promotional clip from the Beijing 2022 Olympics, then to a title card with links to other videos.]
[Autoplay summons the next video: “Figure Skating Legends Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki Play Truth or Drink,” with a thumbnail of Viktor grinning and laughing while Yuuri blushes hard with a look of shock on his face.]
[Cancel] [Play now]