Yuri's fingers glided against the glass screen of his phone as pictures flew by his eyes. He was bored, terribly so, the night after the start of the Rostelecom cup. He had smashed his old records for this point in the season, Yakov was extremely proud. But for some reason, that didn't matter to him today. What mattered was the tanner man, with his extremely well cut hair, that flubbed a jump today.

Otabek never flubbed a jump. Yuri had never even heard of the man doing so in this past year since he had met him. So what had happened today? The Quadruple axel had sent him spiraling to the ground, and it almost looked like the skater had seriously injured himself, but he got right back up and continued with his performance. Surely there was no way he hadn't injured himself. But his smiling face touring around Moscow said otherwise.

Yuri couldn't help but smile as he saw a picture of Otabek kneeling on the ground, palm outstretched, luring one of the many street cats towards him. The cat stared at him, sitting on its haunches. What a cute picture… No, what a cute cat. He rolled over, turning off the light of his screen, arms wrapped around a pillow, burying his face into it. It smelled like a hotel. Gross.

Yuri remembered how Otabek had looked at him when he got off of the ice. For a split second, there was a spark in his eye, but the man had looked away. Shame. That was shame. Yuri realised, Had he known that he was going to mess up?

His coaches were out, gathering a meal. They gave Yuri his space at times like this, to let him rest. Especially after he had done well. He appreciated it, he loved the silence, and just being able to think about the day's events. However, the silence was broken from the vibration of his phone, "Who?" He said aloud, reaching for it to see a text message flashing across his home screen.

"Where are you? Want to grab coffee?"

It was Otabek. What was he doing? He should be resting. "I'm in the hotel. Where? Coffee sounds great." He sat up, fixing his hair. He stumbled around the room as he pulled on a new pair of socks, and fumbled with the button of his jeans. His shirt was his usual, a crumpled T-shirt. He nearly stubbed his toe in his eager rush.

He reached for his phone as the screen lit up, before even giving it the chance to ring, "Alright, on my way. I have an extra helmet."

"I'm not made of glass. Just drive safely, moron." Yuri slid his phone into his back pocket alongside his wallet. At least now he would be able to ask Otabek what on earth happened today.

He scribbled a note for his coaches, leaving it on the bed. If he texted them, they would try to talk him out of going, and scold him. Leaving a note would delay the inevitable. He grabbed his room key, charging out of the room, wondering why he was in such a rush. Sure, there was making sure that his coaches didn't get home before he left, but his heart was pounding. He hadn't been able to spend time with Otabek since the previous Grand Prix, they were both so busy, and being from different countries complicated the mix.

"I'm here." Read the next text, shortly after. Yuri scanned the entrance of the hotel for the memorable motorcycle. His eyes fell on the glimmer of Otabek's helmet, the setting sun bouncing off of it, and straight into his eyes.

"Altin!" He called, and Otabek looked up from his phone, meeting his eyes. Yuri slid his hands into his pockets, walking over. "Yo."

"Yo." He greeted in return, passing Yuri the helmet. Yuri slid it onto his head, clasping it. "Congrats on your performance today. You were quite impressive." Yuri hopped onto the back of the bike, arms around his waist. Fear alight in his eyes.

"Go. Go!" Yuri shouted as Lilia pointed towards him, and Otabek zoomed off. Lilia looked pissed, and Yakov seemed to be out for blood. Yuri couldn't help but laugh, seeing how their faces had lit up completely red. His phone started to go off, but he ignored it, putting it on silent. Otabek couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"You are in so much trouble." Otabek smiled, stopping at a red light, Yuri was still laughing, his voice dancing a blissful melody over the cold air.

"So are you, they're probably going to press kidnapping charges." He smiled, leaning forward to see Otabek's face, where there wasn't a shred of worry. The laughter faded from Yuri's face, and changed to a furrowed brow, "Otabek, what happened today?"

"Don't want to talk about it." He said as the light turned green. Whatever he spoke after that was drowned out by the hum of the motorcycle's engine, and the wind rushing in their ears. He skidded to a halt, hearing Yuri yelp, outside the coffee shop. Ice flew into the air as he did.

"Are you trying to kill me?!" Yuri yelled, hopping off of the bike, his heart hammering. He scanned the area, finding it familiar. Of course it was, he had been here frequently.

"Actually, yes." He joked, getting off as well. Yuri huffed, cheeks flushed from the sting of the cold air. "Well?" He wanted to wrap his arm around Yuri's and lead him inside, but something in him begged him not to.

"How do you know my favourite coffee shop is Moscow?" Yuri asked, looking up to the sign, it was glowing bright reds and orange with neon lights. Memories came rushing back of every weekend when his grandfather would bring him here, well, before they moved to St. Petersberg. It was good to be back. He loved the way the acidic scent of the coffee stung at his nose, and the sudden warmth compared to the outside sent tingles flying across his skin.

"You posted a couple of pictures here before."

"You're a creep." He said with a smile. Otabek noticed the little things like that, huh? "Stop stalking me." He said, elbowing him, "Or I might be the one to call the police."

"Stop liking my photos from two years ago, stalker." He smiled, leading the younger man towards a seat. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans ignited their senses, waking them up from the cold of Moscow. "I notice."

"Well, maybe if you posted more, it wouldn't be so easy for me to scroll all the way down." He sat down, looking at the menu. He loved this place. The brown of the tables was so warm and inviting, he could spend an entire day here, reading or scrolling through his feeds.

"I only post because you ask me to." He admitted, leaning back in the seat of his booth, hands resting on the red leather. "I hate social media."

"Freak." Yuri said, ordering a Chai latte, and straight black coffee for Otabek. "How's life been treating you?" He asked, still concerned about the events earlier in the day.

"Well, I'm just a tad stressed." He put the menu down, seeing that Yuri already knew what he was going to get anyway. He always wanted to try something new, but nothing stood out to him, so he ended up getting black coffee at every one of their outings. "And you?"

"Same." He hadn't been sleeping well either. Yakov was being tough on him this season, especially recently. Not only that… but he had started to really notice some physical changes. He was gaining weight rapidly. He had to start worrying about facial hair, especially near performances. Lilia had started teaching him how to wax it, but that was painful. Most men didn't wax their hair because of the pain. "I'm not a kid anymore. Lilia and Yakov are having a hard time grasping that." He had entered puberty a long time ago, but now smaller changes were starting to add up. He was getting taller much faster. "It's making it hard on me too." He admitted, feeling vulnerable, "But they'll get the fuck over it. I know what I need to do."

Otabek smiled. Whenever they were together, Yuri was the more talkative one, "I understand." He had been through the same thing, all male figure skaters had. Yuri was so talented that it made it harder on him, because people still expected him to be the perfect child he was in the past. "It will get easier as time goes on. Then before you know it, it's completely normal."

Yuri nodded, smiling when their coffees were delivered to the table. He said his thanks to the waitress, before taking a picture of Otabek with his coffee, earning a raised brow. "Someone needs to take pictures for you, or you'll never do it." He smirked, "See? You look pathetically adorable." He smiled, placing his head in his palm, propping himself up on the table.

Otabek reached a hand back to rub at his own neck, "Wow thanks. But I'm certainly not as cute some others we both know… Mila?" He asked, and Yuri spat out some of his coffee.

"Ew! You think that hag is attractive? Get your eyes checked!" He got defensive, turning his attention towards his coffee, gently sipping at the foam that covered the top, being careful not to burn his wind burned lips.

"I'm not saying that I think she's attractive, I'm asking if you do." He took a sip of the coffee, his hand still on his neck. He let the bitterness of the liquid dance on his tongue before swallowing it.

Yuri blushed, "No." He said, folding his arms and leaning back, "She's not ugly. But I don't like what you're insinuating. I don't like g- her. I don't like her." Altin was acting strangely. "Are you feeling alright?" He finally noticed that Otabek was preoccupied with his neck. "Beka… Are you hurt?" As angry as he was, the fury in his eyes shifted to deep concern.

He nodded, "Yeah, just a little bruised up. I'll be fine." Yuri wasn't going to let it go, he could see it in his eyes. "I got in a car accident back home, on my way to the airport." It was the worst time to have gotten into an accident.

"Can I have these to-go, please?" Yuri said politely to the people behind the counter, earning a strange glance from Otabek. "I'm driving. Give me your keys." Yuri wasn't old enough to get a license for automobiles. In Russia, the legal driving age was eighteen, however for motorcycles, the limit was set to two years younger.

"Hell no." He said, but Yuri continued to hold out his hand, "I have an injury, I am fine to drive. You'd kill us."

"Stop being a little shit. I've been taking motorcycle lessons. Give. Me. The. Keys." He enunciated every word, not budging a centimeter. Otabek was hesitant, but finally dropped the keys into Yuri's palm. "Good." He said, worried about his friend. He tried skating with a neck injury. "You're an idiot, you shouldn't be skating with an injury."

"If I drop out now, I can't compete the rest of the season. No way." He followed Yuri out, to-go cups in hand, placing them in the cupholders on the side of the engine. "I just need to do well enough here to give me a chance for finals. I'll worry about it between now and my next competition."

"You're an idiot." Yuri said, "You're trying to ruin your career, aren't you?" He put the keys in the ignition, taking off carefully and slowly. He didn't race between cars and narrow streets like Otabek did, "Do you have any idea how worried I was when you took that fall?"

"Stop worrying about me, Yuri. I'll be fine." He didn't like Yuri worrying about him, "You weren't like this a couple of months ago when I fractured my wrist."

"I wasn't there. And you don't know that." He bit down on his lip, jaw tense, "You're a moron. I can't convey that through text, or stupid GIFs, or instagrams." They rode in silence until they got to the hotel. Yuri pulled around to the back entrance. Somehow, Yuri was proving to be quite the responsible driver. "Get off. Go to your room. I'll be back." He said.

"Excuse me?" Otabek asked, getting off of the bike, "You shouldn't be driving around alone. You don't have your license yet, and that bike is in my name." Yuri was behaving rashly, and that scared him.

"Go to bed!" He shouted, storming off. Otabek cursed, wondering what the blonde was up to. He trusted Yuri to be safe, he was smart; so he turned and headed through the back doors, hotel key in hand.

He slipped into his dark room, flicking one of the lights on. He set the coffee cups on the nightstand. The man sat down on his bed, slipping his shoes off as his mind wandered to his Russian compatriot. He was going through a lot, this was a confusing time for any young man. He was seeing Yuri grow up, but Yuri was already an adult. He was mature, and intelligent, and incredibly talented. His body was just finishing catching up to that.

He felt himself start to doze off, when there was a knock on the door. "Ugh…" He groaned, getting up carefully, before wandering towards the sound. "Yuri." He said upon seeing the blonde, who shoved his way in, a pharmacy bag in hand.

"Take your shirt off, lay on the bed." He said, pulling out some kind of ointment. Otabek was hesitant, "I said do it. Do you need me to undress you, or are you capable of doing that yourself, big boy?" He teased. He needed this distraction. It was making him forget about his own problems.

Otabek rolled his eyes, deciding to amuse him. "It wouldn't kill you to say please. I know you want my ass, but this is no way to go about it." He unbuttoned his shirt, laying on his stomach.

"Please, if I wanted it, I would have gotten it already." Yuri hopped on the man's back, more specifically, his posterior, as he started rubbing the ointment into his neck and upper back. It smelled like mint, and the menthol in it felt cool on their skin.

"Who says I want you?" Otabek relaxed, Yuri's hands working painful bliss.

"Don't make me hit you." Yuri sighed, leaning into his work a little bit more. He heard Otabek moan, and a blush crept across his face, "Weirdo! Keep it together!" He scolded, but didn't cease in his actions.

"Platonic moaning is perfectly acceptable- Oh. Yes. Right there." He said, and felt Yuri concentrate on the spot that he specified. The older skater sighed in relief, this was the first time he had someone else to tend to this injury. Though he was having a hard time controlling his voice, the pain for the bruising being relieved so delicately.

"Where's your coach?" Yuri asked, "This would be a hard thing to explain." Not that he was worried about someone seeing them, but Otabek would be.

"You're clothed, I'm clothed. My coach and I do not room together." He said, wincing as Yuri hit a tender spot. "Ah ah ah…! Ouch!" He tensed up, and Yuri pulled his hands away ever so slightly.

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"Correct."

Otabek was thankful for the rub down, the oils in the ointment that Yuri had purchased were doing wonderfully to numb the pain and reduce inflammation. "Thanks." He said, sitting up. Yuri had kept at it for half an hour, not complaining, enjoying their friendly teasing.

"Don't hurt yourself again. You're too much to deal with." Yuri said, wiping the lotion off onto his pants, not bothering to get up from the bed. "I need to go upstairs-"

"You've got some on your face." Otabek reached over, swiping his calloused thumb across the soft skin on the outside of Yuri's lip. "There. That probably didn't taste great." He went to pull his hand away, but suddenly Yuri's hand was on top of his, holding it firmly to his cheek.

Yuri felt embarrassed when he realised his actions. He had done it without thinking! "Yeah, well it wouldn't have ended up there if you had decided to get professional medical treatment." He was about to let the hand go, when Otabek's fingers intertwined with his, "Beka?" He asked nervously, scanning for Otabek's eyes in the darkness, their golden glimmer easy to spot.

"You should… Go to bed. Yeah. The free skate is tomorrow." He felt Yuri lean closer, it was almost imperceptible, especially in the dimly lit hotel room.

"Yeah. Free skate. That's right." Yuri said, wondering why his heart was beating so quickly. He suddenly felt warm all over, he knew what this feeling was. "Ah, shit!" He got up letting go of Otabek in a hurry, "Good luck!" He stormed out, rushing to the elevator. Otabek didn't follow him.

He rushed into the hotel room, storming into the bathroom. Yakov was still up, waiting for him, and Lilia woke up at the sounds that Yuri was making. "Yuri! Where have you been?!" Yakov was about to go into full scolding mode.

"Leave me alone!" Yuri shouted, turning on the shower water, as cold as he could possibly make it. It would be just like the sobering baths he took back home with Viktor, especially around the new year.

The bangs on the door didn't stop, and Lilia demanded answers. "Yuri! This is inexcusable! You have a competition tomorrow!-"

"I… I was…!" Yuri searched for any answer he could give, anything to escape the situation, "I was with a girl!" How could he be feeling this way? No, this was wrong. Not Otabek. Not his best friend.

Otabek wasn't the one to miss a jump the next day.

Hello there!

This is my first Yuri and Otabek story, I am super excited!

Please note that this story will become rated M in the next couple of chapters. :)

Please let me know what you thought!