ax_main | Otabek and Yuri, October 5

The skaters leave the rink together. Otabek is getting ready to leave the US. Yuri is displeased. Featuring Otabek and the world's shortest, coldest shower.

A few things came up earlier in the day, so Otabek decided to get in some solo practice before he usually picked Yuri up. By this point the ice was free. Yuri was in the gym space working on other things tonight. Without having his coach or other witnesses present, Otabek knew better than trying anything where he might hurt himself. He was still working the kinks out of his quad, but that would need to wait. After warmup, he focused on a new step sequence he was working on.

For the first time in nearly five years Otabek was due home. In a few weeks time he'd be back in Almaty, training in his own country. This piece was dedicated to the journey he'd taken, and to everything he hoped to bring back to Kazakhstan. He wanted his supporters to know the strength they gave him. This time, he wanted to bring gold home. The music for this piece was a powerful swell, and his movements were strong, precise, and when he got this sequence right...

Otabek scratched and fumbled, catching his balance at the last moment and frowning. His feet weren't the problem.

Focus, he reminded himself. Don't forget what it is you want.

Otabek set his jaw and cued the music back. He started from the beginning.

Yuri had his skates off, and pretended he wanted to see who was still on the ice, but he knew damn well it was just Otabek, at this hour. There was something in Otabek's eyes when he was thinking, and in the little furrow between his brows, that was so intense... but he shouldn't have that on the ice. Yuri watched in silence, cupping the arch of his foot in one hand and stretching it up over his head almost absently. The better to keep his hamstrings from clenching up on him on the way back to Xavier's.

Otabek executed a nice jump, and Yuri said, "Davai!" without even thinking.

Otabek hadn't realized he'd earned an audience. His glanced to see Yuri and some of the tension eased from his motion. His mouth curved with edge of a smile and then he winked before twisting into a closing spin sequence. The sight Yuri Plisetsky casually stretching like the world's most beautiful prima ballerina was distracting, but Otabek also found it motivating.

Yuri stretched his other leg over his head as he watched. There was something very... determined about the way Otabek skated. It wasn't that he lacked flow--he had that--or was stiff--though he could be when distracted. But where some skaters danced like they were carried by the music, Otabek moved like... like he was the one who kept the music going?

It was hard to describe, even in his own head, so Yuri just watched. And when Otabek finished his spin sequence, Yuri dropped his foot and clapped. “The ending was good. The judges will like that sequence.”

“Good,” Otabek said. He skated over to the barrier opposite Yuri. “I have strong competition I'll need to beat.”

Yuri smirked and looked up at Otabek. "Stronger than last year."

“You done for the night?” Otabek glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “Nice weather for a ride. Full moon and clear skies.”

Caught off guard, Yuri could only nod, a strange flush rising in his cheeks. The he sputtered, "I--I can wait. If you're still working."

Otabek smiled. “Let me rinse off then let's go.”

Still flushing, Yuri said, "Me too. I mean. I need to shower." For some reason he didn't like the idea of hanging onto Otabek's jacket when he smelled like this. He wanted to smell good.

Otabek glanced at Yuri with a briefly inscrutable expression before nodding and making his way off the ice. He tossed on his guards, and then gestured for Yuri to follow along. "Good practice tonight?" he asked.

"Mmm," Yuri said. Grunted. Whatever. It was weird--Otabek was always taller than him (everyone was taller than him) but with his skates on it was ridiculous. Yuri tried not to mind. "Though I had to Skype with Yakov. Other countries have skaters with all kinds of coaches, but that old bastard sends me away and then can't let go.

"I don't need him to win."

Otabek hummed a thoughtful sound in response. "He was a good coach. He pushed. Not my style, but can see why he probably misses you."

"Misses me," Yuri grumbled, finding the idea absurd. "He's got Viktor to yell at. Viktor listens even less. Idiot."

Otabek gave him a knowing smile. "Can't imagine why he'd miss you, Yura. You know, some people actually enjoy the challenge."

Yuri flushed at the nickname. It was strange, because he liked it. He looked at the ground, letting his fringe cover his face, even though it was too late. He wanted to comment that some people needed more hobbies... but he couldn't make himself say it. "You can call me that," he said instead. "No one else."

Otabek hadn't even realized he'd slipped until Yuri acknowledged it. "Thank you," he said softly. They entered the locker room and Otabek went to put his skates away first. It was going to be a quick shower, because he wanted to get out of here. Time with Yuri was limited, and he wasn't wasting a single moment.

Yuri watched Otabek for a moment, then shook himself out of it and peeled off his warm ups. He headed for the shower and turned it on hot, then stood there for a moment, washing off the sweat and chlorine and just... thinking.

Otabek didn't even wait for the water to warm before stepping under. He shivered at the initial jolt of cold and then took a fast, efficient shower. He was out before Yuri, jeans and boots on, shirt waiting on the bench as he finished tightening his laces.

Yuri dried and dressed thoughtfully. His shorts, rockstar jeans, tiger-face shirt, hoodie, and jacket. Then the leopard spot Chuck Taylors. His hair would dry on the bike, even under the helmet. It had a mind of its own anyhow--and he'd already wasted enough time.

The shower had relaxed him, though. Centered him. Why he'd felt off-balance, he didn't know, but it didn't matter now. "Ready?"

Otabek finished shrugging on his jacket. He pulled his keys out. "Let's fly."

Yuri nodded and walked beside him to the back entrance--generally safe from Yuri's Angels. After that first time when he'd been plastered all over instagram on the back of Otabek's bike, they'd mostly let it go. Mostly.

Yuri asked, "What about you? Decided on your free skate music yet?"

Otabek by habit put himself between Yuri and the road so he'd be the first person any lurking fangirls would catch sight of. It was late enough that they didn't have to worry tonight. With the sun setting earlier, they were less likely to capture good pictures.

"I have a couple options I've been thinking about. Considered mixing them, but I think I just need to make up my mind," Otabek admitted. "Thought maybe I'd wait until I get home and see what feels right."

Yuri glared from behind his fringe, bottom lip sticking out. "When are you going?"

Otabek’s steps slowed. He tucked a hand to the small of Yuri’s back to guide him around the corner, as if it was necessary. “End of the month.” His mother was excited by the idea of Otabek being home for his birthday this year. It was strange to think about. So many years away, and he should be excited too, but he was mostly nervous at this point.

Yuri went with the hand at his back, but frowned even harder. "And then what will I do? You're my friend here." His only friend. Ever.

Otabek felt like someone had sucker punched him in the chest. “We’ll figure something out,” he said, voice quiet and rough edged. “Skype. Until competition season.”

Yuri grunted something like agreement. He didn't feel it, but he has to admit, "At least you can see Inzhu. And send pictures." But he was still pouting hard.

"I will send you so many pictures," Otabek promised. His arm slid around Yuri and he gave him a sideways hug before leaning to pluck Yuri's helmet off the back of his bike.

Yuri caught himself leaning into Otabek... though he didn't know why. Of course he was leaving. Everyone left. Even him, apparently.

... but he was happy for the cat, anyhow. So Yuri left it at that and reached for the helmet. "Don't think you're off the hook. You have to make it up to me. Tonight and every night until you go."

"Okay." It was an easy promise. "I'm yours every night. Until I go." Otabek pulled his own helmet on.

Yuri put the helmet over his wet hair. "Good. And stop talking about it. Please. I don't want to think about it now. It's ruining my mood."

"Done." Otabek climbed on to his bike and looked over his shoulder. "Come on. Let's chase some stars."

Sometime during that star chasing, under the full moon, Yuri forgot to pout. Otabek knew all the good places to sky watch from--Yuri never thought to question why or how--and he knew all the interesting things to talk about. Skating and his cat and bikes and music. Yuri forgot he was going to leave for a while.

But once they were on the long drive up to Xavier's, where the students called their Ubers or cabs and walked the rest of the way, Otabek slowed, and Yuri took off his helmet and shook out his hair. "That was good. Too short. But good."

"Maybe on the weekend we can go out longer," Otabek suggested. He never spent this much time with his fellow skaters willingly. Usually it was his rinkmates luring him out for activities, not the other way around. Yuri was like a drug in Otabek's system. He couldn't clear his thoughts. Couldn't get by without him.

Yuri smiled, suddenly and earnestly excited. His weekends were just more work, usually, even though he had free time. He nodded. "Sunday? Or Saturday night? I sleep late on Sundays."

Yuri's expression tugged a smile from Otabek as well. "Let's start with Saturday night."

Yuri slid off the bike reluctantly and fixed the spare helmet securely in its spot. He wanted to get back on. To lean back and look up at the sky, to hold on with his legs and feel Otabek, solid and sure, anchoring him while the world flew past.

Saturday, then. "I'll see you at the rink tomorrow too. And we can still get dinner. I want borscht. And you promised to show me the video your cousin sent. We forgot today." Yuri couldn't stop talking, for some reason. He sounded like a fucking moron and he didn't care.

"Tomorrow." Otabek nodded. "And then Saturday. All of this." He reached and tucked a strand of Yuri's hair back behind his ear. "Sleep well tonight. I'll kidnap you after practice."

Yuri smiled, leaning into the touch without realizing. "Okay. Good night, then." He guessed he should start walking. He shouldered his bag. And turned. But as he walked, he looked over his shoulder.

Otabek leaned against his bike, waiting until Yuri was safely out of sight. He offered his one last smile.