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yoireverse · 7 years

Text

conference

((hey everybody!!! so excited to see that so many folks are into this au. gosh. i hope you all enjoy this installment!! ♥ if you draw anything for the au, please tag @narootos and @wbtrashking!!)) summary: Otabek and Yuri take a relaxing walk around Barcelona. Their pleasant chatter is cut off by Chris and Phichit suddenly dragging them into a café.

For some reason, Phichit can’t shut up about the year’s power couple, Coach Yuuri Katsuki and his silver-haired student, Victor Nikiforov.

Understandably, this pisses Yuri Plisetsky off.

word count: ~2k rating: teen ✮read on ao3 | ✮reverse fic tag | ✮askbox

Hey, Yuri stumbles over the words while he texts, scrunching up his face in annoyance. I know this is kind of weird to ask since we have the free skate tonight, but I was wondering if we could meet up and hang out.

The blonde skater throws his phone to the side as soon as he hits send.

Otabek had just offered to be Yuri’s friend two days ago, and he’s already being a surly weirdo about the whole thing. Yuri has lived and practiced around a handful of loud personalities. His rink mates can be suffocating. He has very little energy for socializing with Victor, Mila, and Georgi after practice is dismissed, so Yuri pouts in his hotel room and stares at the wall.

He’d already spent the early hours of the day cruising through his social media. There’s an infuriating amount of pictures on his Instagram of the Yuri’s Angels account where Yuri has been stuffed into a pair of cat ears or something equally demeaning. Victor and Yuuri are admittedly quiet on Twitter and Facebook, for all that the two of them had been flirting nonstop at dinner the day previous.

Yuri’s rink mate had flashed his gold ring with a huge blush and an even bigger smile. “Yura, look!” Victor hadn’t stopped beaming about the damn thing, and honestly, Yuri just needs a damn break from all of it. He could clear his mind by walking around the city, but this would leave him easily accessible to an ambush by his fans. Yuri rationalizes that he shouldn’t be scared of asking Otabek to hang out.

Otabek is Yuri's friend. Not a rink mate. Not someone to be idolized or to bicker with. Just a friend, who remembered him from days long past, and who Yuri had foolishly tuned out in his memories. Now they have the opportunity to make up for last time. The Kazakh teenager is nothing like Victor - sappy and crass and a bit air-headed. He’s not like Yuuri, who always acts like he’s going to faint if someone stands too close and who fusses over Victor like he’s a baby deer. Mila’s like his annoying older sister, Yakov and Lilia act like nagging parents, and Yuri just wants some quiet time to himself, maybe hanging out at a high altitude and letting the breeze hit his face.

That’s why he sends the text in the first place, but when he doesn’t receive a reply within five minutes, the blonde panics that he has overstepped his boundaries.

When his phone buzzes, it’s been eight minutes since he sent the text and concern flooded his mind. Yuri tentatively picks up his cell and draws in a nervous breath before he reads the message. Once he eventually looks at it, Yuri exhales happily.

Yeah, sounds good. Wanna meet up at the same place we did yesterday?

Yuri hurries to type back his agreement.

Otabek’s motorcycle engine comes to a low hum as he parks and Yuri smiles softly at him, lifting a hand in greeting.

The two of them grab snacks and just walk around the high terraces for an hour. Otabek occasionally points out interesting thing and snaps photos. Yuri switches between walking beside his new friend in comfortable silence and cursing about fans lurking near shops that have affordable t-shirts with animal prints. Otabek casually steps to Yuri’s side when girls get a bit too close, making sure the small Russian teenager is out of sight.

At first, Yuri wants to be pissed about it, because for all of Otabek’s talk of seeing Yuri as a soldier, he’s sure treating Yuri like he’s delicate. After a while, Yuri starts to realize that Otabek looks plenty relaxed, like he knows that Yuri can handle his own business, but he just quietly wants to help, and Yuri grows a little less cautious.

Yuri starts to ramble on and on to Otabek about life with his coach and choreographer, the former prima ballerina. Talking about their fledgling careers leads the blonde into an angry rant, but the Kazakh teenager just nods and smiles, happy to listen.

“You know, fucking Victor Nikiforov,” Yuri rushes to say, his arms flailing about, “He was never bad, y'know? Maybe just uninspired. He never applied himself to the sport as much as he should have. There’s something wrong with his brain. He could’ve…” the blonde trails off for a minute, then huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “That guy. He could’ve been legendary by now, but he had to get his ass kicked by his big softy of a coach.”

“That sounds like a contradiction,” Otabek replies gently, his voice a low timbre.

“What, that his weak ass mentor showed him how things are done?” Yuri kicks a rock on the ground and rolls his eyes. “Fluffy doesn’t take shit from Nikiforov, and he coordinated my SP, too. The dude may look like a happy little airhead, but Fluffy is no joke. If he came back to the competition today, Nikiforov and I would have a run for our money.”

Otabek chuckles. “Sounds like you really admire Yuuri.” His shorter friend looks scandalized, which just makes Otabek laugh harder. “I mean, it’s not to the point of obsession or anything, but it’s obvious that you spend a lot of time with them, even off the ice. Where does Yuuri stay in Saint Petersburg?”

“With Nikiforov, of course,” Yuri answers like this is obvious. “Those idiots live together, eat together - hell, they invite me over to spend time with them in Nikiforov’s cramped-as-shit apartment because they clearly aren’t sick of being draped over each other all the time!!”

The taller teenager hums, digging his hands into his pockets. “That’s nice, Yuri.”

“We’re friends now,” Yuri snappily tells him, his lips quirking upwards. “So Yura is fine.”

“You can call me Beka too, then.”

Otabek listens, smiling and nodding as Yuri melodramatically tells stories of Yakov’s horrid lectures and about his piss-poor coffee-making skills. He tries to warn Yuri when the younger skater nearly walks into the door of a little café, but his words fall on deaf ears. Two people are walking out of the shop with drinks, and luckily, nobody gets splashed.

Four of the year’s Grand Prix finalists happen upon each other in a total coincidence, and all of them have time to burn.

Yuri’s a little disappointed that he can’t just spend his time rambling without being judged any more, but Phichit corrals the teenagers into the store. “C'mon, sit, sit!! We won’t be long.” The Thai man sits across the table from Otabek and Yuri, who are both closed off and a bit skittish. Chris leans way too far over the table as he smiles at them, which just makes the blonde teenager slump even further down into his chair.

Phichit and Chris cradle paper cups and spare a moment to laugh at themselves for coming back inside the store so quickly.

“What brings you guys out this morning?” Phichit beams at the two of them. Otabek shrugs and turns to the blonde.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Just didn’t feel like staying in. Is there some sort of problem with that?”

“So surly,” Chris hums, taking a swig of his drink. “Did the two of you want to get anything?”

“I try not to have coffee too often,” Otabek replies flatly.

“Not interested,” Yuri snarls lowly. “Are we fucking done now?”

“Oh, geez, don’t be so mad.” Phichit laughs patiently. “You guys are still sort of new to the skating scene, and isn’t it sort of fun getting to know each other?”

The two teenagers in his audience are indifferent.

Regardless of their varying levels of interest in becoming friends with the other competitors, (Otabek doesn’t really feel a connection, and Yuri would sooner flick all of them off), when Phichit is not smiling and soft and friendly, he is a bit intimidating. His dark eyes are sharp and focused, and he’s come in second place at handfuls of competitions beside Yuuri, his best friend.

Chris is no slouch, either. He’s been first, second, and third at Worlds, at Europeans, and more. The two men are sharks in the water, and if they say that they’re interested in getting to know Otabek and Yuri, there is absolutely more to the story. Phichit and Chris might act nice now, but they’ll be out for blood in the evening. There’s no harm in catering to their whims while the older men are willing to pretend that all the Grand Prix finalists can all just get along.

“Not really,” Yuri grumbles eventually. “But something tells me you didn’t bother us just to act all sweet. What do you want?”

“I was wondering,” Phichit answers quickly, hands already flying to his phone, “How Yuuri and Victor act when they’re in Saint Petersburg. They can’t possibly be that clingy at practice, can they?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “I told him earlier that Victor Nikiforov is the driving force in their relationship. Victor would cling to anybody warm and willing. He’s never had anybody that close to him, so he’s probably desperate to hold onto that soft little coach of his.”

“Yeah, but Yuuri’s not like that!” Phichit puts his drink down to wag his finger at the Swiss man. Yuri watches them bicker with wide eyes. “No matter how much he cares about Victor, he wouldn’t let Victor hang all over him and be hyper affectionate in public. He’d get too nervous. Anyways, this is where you come in, to enlighten us!” Phichit turns his dark eyes on the long-haired teenager and Yuri jolts in shock.

He sits up just a bit, huffing and blowing hair out of his face. “That’s what you pulled me in here for?” Yuri Plisetsky throws his new friend a dirty pout before sighing and indulging Phichit and Chris. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but the love birds are horrible no matter where they’re at. They bicker about buying new boots and forgetting to pack lunches. They’re gross and I hate them. I avoid them as much as I can.”

Otabek raises an eyebrow, but he refuses to call his friend out. Just twenty minutes ago, Yuri had been talking about having dinner at Victor’s grungy apartment with the couple.

“I told you so,” Chris laughs at Phichit, who is pouting. “So, tell me, is Yuuri going to clean himself up and spoil his younger man silly?”

“Oh god, Yuuri’s too stingy for that,” Phichit comments. “Even if Victor has managed to make him loosen up enough for public kisses and stuff, Yuuri hates to shop. He’d just get annoyed.”

“I bet he would do it for Victor, though,” Chris hums airily. “Love changes people.”

The Thai man sighs, smiling a bit. “I guess so. It’s totally strange to see him like this, but I’m glad Yuuri’s happy.” After a moment, he looks at the scowling teenager and tilts his head with curiosity. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re upset.”

“I am upset,” Yuri says, slamming a fist on the table. After a moment, he stands up and Otabek follows him silently. “I have to hear about those two during my precious off-hours? Get real. Bye!”

Otabek apologetically bows his head to the two of them, maintaining a level head while Yuri stomps out of the café.

Phichit kicks back in his chair with a grin. Chris slaps him lightly on the arm. “You are a bad man,” the Swiss man murmurs.

“You gotta get your kicks when you can,” Phichit replies quickly. “Yuri’s a good kid, underneath all the teen angst. I really did want to talk to him and become better friends.”

“Then don’t tease him.” Chris finishes his drink and stands to exit the shop for the second time. Phichit trails behind, taking a moment to snap one last photo of the two of them together. “You know that he has a hard time. Don’t lie and say that you’ve never read his social media.”

Phichit sticks out his tongue. “Of course I do. That’s why I reached out to him. The little dude could use a few more friends, don’t you think?”

Chris just laughs.

Otabek and Yuri silently walk together until the shorter male is slightly less furious.

Yuri stops in front of a sandwich shop. “Hey, sorry about today.”

The taller boy shakes his head. “It’s okay. I had a good time.”

With a scoff, the blonde asks, “Even with the bullshit in the middle?”

The Kazakh shrugs and smiles. “It was entertaining, at least. If you hadn’t asked me to hang out, I just would’ve been sitting in my hotel, waiting for the time to pass.”

Yuri starts at that. “Oh. Well. I’m glad I could help.” He nervously fidgets with his phone, which is full with frustrated messages from Yakov, asking about his location.

Yuri’s surprised that Victor and Yuuri haven’t started leaving voicemails at this point, because Yuri Plisetsky has been gone without letting them know since eight A.M. It’s twelve-forty-two now.

He supposes that Yuuri’s busy practicing with Victor for the FS skate in the evening, but it’s still strange. “I’m going to grab a sandwich and head out now, yeah?”

“Alright,” Otabek quietly says. The two of them part with a small wave.

Yuri is still a bit pissed about his talk with Phichit and Chris, but overall the day had been pleasant.

He walks back to the hotel with confidence, letting Lilia and Yakov’s fussy words roll off of him.

Before warm ups start, Yuri sends Otabek one last message, having been too nervous to tell the Kazakh in person.

Thanks, Beka.

About twenty minutes later, Otabek replies, Anytime, and Yuri Plisetsky pushes Mila off of him when the girl asks why Yuri is smiling.

#mod: ash #yoi #yuri on ice #reverse au #reverse fic

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