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Yuri Plisetsky had the eyes of a soldier. But even the most war-weary fighters have soft spots. When Otabek came to visit Saint Petersburg for the first time, he met Yuri’s.
“This is it,” Yuri said, kicking the door open. “It’s kind of a shithole, but better than sharing an apartment with that idiot and Katsudon. I spent two years watching those two drooling all over each other, enough is enough!” He tossed his bag in the corner and wrestled his boots off. “Put your stuff wherever, then we can get - oh! Look who’s awake.”
Otabek lined his shoes up with the wall and hung his coat on the hook - in spite of Yuri’s description, it seemed like a perfectly nice apartment, he wouldn’t want to track slush all over the floor - and turned to see what Yuri was talking about.
A cat stood in the doorway to the kitchen, stretching its front legs and yawning. It continued into the room, holding its tail like a fluffy banner. It reached Yuri and fixed him with a plaintive stare. “Myau!”
“Katya!” Yuri’s face softened, and he swooped down to lift the cat into his arms. “I’m sorry kotenok, I’ve been gone so long! Were you lonely? Did you miss me terribly?” The cat allowed him to cuddle her for a moment, then squirmed and made another demand. Yuri set her on the floor. “Of course, whatever you say - oh.” He glanced up at Otabek, having apparently forgotten he was there. “Beka, this is Ekaterina. She’s very sweet, but she doesn’t really like most people, so don’t be surprised if she doesn’t...warm up...right away...” He trailed off. The cat had come straight up to Otabek and arched herself against his leg. He could feel her purr rumbling through the fabric of his pants.
Yuri stared. “That’s so weird, she never does that!”
Otabek crouched down and offered his hand for her to sniff. She rubbed her face against it. “I like cats. She can probably tell.”
“Lots of people like cats. She usually hates them.” Yuri shook his head. “Whatever. She’ll probably lose interest once she gets used to you. Now let’s get some food, I’m starving!”
But all through the evening, the cat stayed nearby. She rubbed against Otabek’s ankles as they ate dinner, then hopped onto the counter to watch as he washed dishes. Every time Yuri’s eyes fell on her, he got that same look - the soft, relaxed expression Otabek rarely saw from him. And every time he tried to pull her away from Otabek, she protested, and Yuri pouted. Finally, as they settled on the couch to watch a movie, Yuri snapped.
“I don’t get it! What is with her? She’s all over you, it’s weird! Why does she like you so much?”
Otabek scratched Ekaterina’s ears; she purred louder and sprawled across his lap. “Is it so hard to imagine someone liking me, Yura?” he asked.
Yuri scowled. “What? No, that’s not what I - shut up!”
“Because I can’t tell if you’re jealous that your cat likes me,” Otabek continued, “Or jealous of the cat.” He ran his fingers through her fur and met Yuri’s eyes.
There was a definite blush forming on Yuri’s face. “I didn’t say I was jealous!”
“Right.”
“I just don’t understand why - are you laughing at me?” Yuri demanded.
Only Yuri would be able to tell that from the crinkle of Otabek’s eyes, the slight twitch of his mouth. Instead of answering, he gently lifted the cat and moved her over so she lay half on his lap, half on Yuri’s.
“There. Now no one has to be jealous.” He rested his arm on the back of the couch behind Yuri’s head. Yuri sighed and leaned against him.
“Fine,” he said. He wore that gentle expression again, but although he was petting Katya, his gaze was on Otabek. “I wasn’t jealous, though.”
“Of course not.”