#how is the bear meant to be known for a goddamn thing if you're changing it every day

[wyn-n-tonic]

Carmy: I want this to be a partnership!! We all own a piece of this!! It's a group effort!! Also Carmy: EVERY DECISION IS MINE AND WE CHANGE THE MENU EVERY FUCKING DAY TO THE POINT THAT I CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT THE FUCK WE MADE BECAUSE THAT MAKES SENSE!!!!!

[vcepsis]

Question: If you're taking yoi prompts, have you ever written/would you consider writing a sick Otabek? Figured you like him a lot since he's your icon. Plus it's always refreshing to have sickfic content for characters other than the mains.

Hey thanks so much for the prompt! I do love him, he is my precious son. I’ve never thought about an Otabek sickfic but I decided to try it! I find Otabek’s character a bit hard to pin down but I hope I did him justice.

Also, there’s a bit of Otayuri in this. I know a lot of people have mixed feelings about Otayuri; for me, I don’t have a strong preference about whether or not they’re romantic or platonic. So I did write about Yurio here, but really you can read it however you want (I kept it pretty open to interpretation I think). There is no Yurio whump here though (I doubt I could ever write whump for him, lol).

Just over 2k. Enjoy!

Otabek’s alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. Approximately two hoursafter he had finally gone to bed.

Normally, Otabek was smarter than that. When he got offersto DJ at a club on a weekday, during training season, he always turned it down(it didn’t stop people from asking, though; apparently he had quite thereputation). Why would people want a DJ for a Tuesday night, anyway? It seemedthe party  in Almaty never slept.

Lately, however, everything had been going wrong. He hadbeen falling on his jumps in practice more often than not, to the point wherehis coach was growing concerned. His short program for the coming season wasnearing competition, but his free skate was still a complete mess. Thechoreography refused to work, no matter how many times he reordered things. Itlooked like he was going to have to scrap it altogether.

Plus, he woke up a few days before with his throat feelinglike sandpaper. It sent a wave of dread through him. This was not what he needed right now.

So when a friend had reached out about playing at a club,Otabek threw caution to the wind and said yes. Nothing else was working, butmaybe a successful show would finally knock his head back into place.

For the most part, it did. He was able to forget all about triple axels and quad salchows and getting sick in the middle of trainingseason quite well with the bass pounding in his chest and the free alcohol(despite the fact that he was underage, but really, nobody cared if the DJbroke a law or two, as long as the party didn’t stop).

Of course, that had been a mere three hours ago. He had managedto get a little bit of sleep to avoid another all-nighter before practice(hiscoach had threatened him in many colourful ways the first time he tried that) but he certainly hadn’t done hisbody any favours.

His alarm was still ringing in his ears, exacerbating theheadache that hadn’t quite faded. Sitting up slowly, he put a hand to his headas the room started to spin. Am I stilldrunk?

No, he hadn’t had enough to be hungover. He may have been anidiot by going out, but he wasn’t that dumb.

Sighing, Otabek rubbed his throbbing temples. The time onhis phone said 6:10. He didn’t need to be at the rink until 8. Surely he couldsleep a little longer, at least to get rid of this headache. He decided to liedown and close his eyes for another half hour or so.

Not two minutes later, it seemed, his phone started to ring.Groaning, he pulled it off his bedside table. It was his coach. He frowned abit, but answered.

“Where areyou??” Came the annoyed voice on the phone.

“What—” Otabek took the phone away from his ear longenough to see the time: 9:28 a.m.

Shit.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” Otabek said earnestly, wincing whenhis voice came out more like a hoarse whisper than a heartfelt apology. Hetried clearing his throat. It didn’t help. “I’ll be there in—”

“Were you outlast night?”

This stopped Otabek in his tracks.

Shiiiiit.

“I only meant to sleep a little longer,” Otabeksaid, trying not to sound like a pleading child. “I’ll make up for ittoday, I’ll stay late, I’ll pay you double for the day—”

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. “Hang on, just stop for a second.” Thevoice was much gentler now. ”I knowyou’ve been frustrated lately, but I wish you would ask for help rather thantaking your frustrations out on cheap alcohol and loud music.“

Shame turned Otabek’s cheeks red.

”I’ll meet youhere at 10, and we’ll have a short day. Do not worry about fees. I just want tohelp you.“

Swallowing the fire in his throat, he agreed.

~~~~

Otabek woke the next morning feeling, somehow, even worsethan the day before. His sore throat had evolved into  a grating cough which no amount of water woulddispel, and his head pounded so hard it felt like a bass drum.

His second alarm went off at 6:30 (after yesterday’s fiasco,he set four alarms to make sure he got up on time). With a groan, he switchedit off and dragged himself to the shower. When he finally arrived at the rink,his coach took in his pale complexion and weak voice with a raised eyebrow, butsaid nothing.

Practice was even more grueling than normal: Otabek feltcompletely drained by the end. His body had a heavy, groggy feeling that madeit hard to concentrate, and he was blowing his nose twice as much as normal.

Usually Otabek waspretty hardy when it came to illness, but his frustration at everything hadgotten the better of him, and he was ignoring his body screaming at him to slow down! Even now, when he had to stopmidway through his routine to cover his awful sounding coughs again, he refused to take it easy.

Distantly, he heard his coach sigh.  "I thought you were hungover yesterday,but it seems you’re not well.”

Otabek stiffened at the accusation. So he wasn’t feelingwell. So he could barely breathe without coughing and the room was beginning tospin. It was nothing. He could pushthrough.

A hand appeared in Otabek’s vision, cool on his forehead.His coach tsked. Otabek just shook itoff, scowling. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. Now go home.”

Otabek opened his mouth to protest some more, but he wasswiftly cut off. “No, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been a mess latelyand now you’re neglecting your health. Go home, get some rest, and come backwhen you’re better.”

Obviously Otabek didn’t look convinced, because his coachcontinued, “Or you can stay here, work yourself into the ground, and getnowhere. While infecting everyone around you. Is that what you want?”

Otabek blinked, shocked. He had been doing his best to stayaway from his rink mates and cover his mouth, but what if it wasn’t enough? Heput a hand to his forehead, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

His coach sighed again. “No, I’m sorry. That was toofar.” Otabek felt the weight of his coach’s hand on his back. “I knownothing seems to be working out, but this is not the solution. You need to takecare of yourself. So go home, get some rest, and we’ll start again when you’rehealthy.”

Otabek hesitated for a moment, but nodded in the end.

It turns out his coach’s advice was sound, as he barely hadthe energy to walk back to his apartment. Dragging himself through the door andtrudging to his room, he barely had the energy to change out of his practiceclothes before collapsing into bed and promptly passing out.

His phone, however, had other ideas.

The shrill sound of his ringtone cut through his fitfulsleep, and he groaned as the pain behind his eyes spiked anew. Turning towardhis nightstand, his phone told him two things: that it had only been a fewhours since he got home, and that Yuri Plisetsky was calling.

Ah, shit. In hishalf asleep state, he had completely forgot about his agreement to have a chatwith Yuri tonight. Sighing at his own incompetence, he hit the answer button. “Hey, Yuri.”

“Whoa, you soundwrecked,” came the greeting from the other end. “Were you out last night or something?”

Why did everyone assume that because he was a DJ, he waspartying every night?

Well….he was outa few days ago. Bitterly, he supposed it was a fair assumption after all.

“No,”Otabek replied. He held the phone away from his face as he coughed harshly.“Just a bit sick.”

“Oh,”Yuri said, sounding a bit surprised. “Areyou….uh, are you ok?”

Otabek couldn’t help but laugh a bit at Yuri’s somewhatfretful tone, which turned into another wet sounding cough. “I’ll be fine.It sounds worse than it is.”

“Yeah.”Yuri sounded unsure. “Did you, like,take your temperature or anything?”

Huh, that actually wasn’t a bad idea. “Not yet,”Otabek said, “I passed out as soon as I got home from practice.”

“Shit, did I wakeyou up?” Yuri sounded upset. ”Ishould have texted you first, ugh.“

“No, no, it’s ok,” Otabek said, rubbing his tiredeyes and sitting up in bed. “I should have let you know I was going to bedearly.” It seemed everything really was going wrong. He couldn’t even be ahalf decent friend.

“It’s ok,”Yuri said.

Otabek pushed the covers back and stood, blinking rapidlywhen black spots appeared in his vision. There was silence on the phone for amoment while he tried to get his bearings, and he stumbled a bit on the way tothe bathroom. Now that he was up and moving, he desperately wanted to blow hisnose, but didn’t want Yuri to hear (and be any more grossed out than heprobably already was), so he resorted to sniffling as quietly as he could.

He didn’t want Yuri to have to wait in awkward silence whilehe looked for his thermometer (when was the last time he even used the damnthing?). Clearing his throat—wincing at the raw feeling there—he asked,“How is training going?”

This, predictably, sent Yuri into a spiraling rant about “Victor goddamn Nikiforov thinks he’sSO GREAT and that PIG worships the ground he walks on it’s absolutely pathetic—”which allowed Otabek to dig through his bathroom cabinets. Despite Yuri’s angrytone, Otabek knew he didn’t actuallymind that much. Having Katsuki around was good for him, Otabek knew, from themultitude of texts he got about how well practice was going. Otabek hadn’tknown him long, but he knew that Yuri secretly looked up to Katsuki, and thathe maybe even enjoyed the sudden burst of activity Katsuki ended up bringing tothe St. Petersburg rink.

About halfway through Yuri’s colourful rendition of howVictor was an absolute prick, Otabek finally found his thermometer. Washing itoff quickly, he stuck it in his mouth just as Yuri was asking, “Can you believe the shit I have to dealwith?!”

Otabek couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “Soundsterrible,” he said, the words a bit muffled by the thermometer. It beepedsoon after, the sound louder than he anticipated.

“Was that yourthermometer?” Yuri asked.

"Yeah,” Otabek replied, looking at the numbers.101. He couldn’t help the frustrated noise that escaped him.

Yuri was silent for a moment. “Is it….bad?”

“No,” Otabek said honestly. It wasn’t that bad,but his fevers always tended to stick around longer than his other symptoms. Itjust meant more time away from the rink.

“Well….”Yuri started, a bit unsure. “This isgonna sound dumb, so like, don’t listen to me if it’s stupid or whatever—”

“What is it?” Otabek asked, rubbing his nose withhis palm, sniffling quietly.

“You’veseemed….frustrated, lately,” Yuri said tentatively. “Like…you’ve been doing too much. Pushingyourself too hard. That’s probably why you got sick. Maybe…..this time awaywill help?”

Otabek was silent for a moment. He thought he hadn’t beencomplaining to Yuri that much, that he’d been pushing his concerns far enoughaway that no one else would notice. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. Because Yurinoticed.

Wait. Was Yuri….worried about him?

A sigh came through the phone. ”That was stupid, I know, just forget about it.“

"No, no,” Otabek said. “You’re….probablyright, actually. I have beenfrustrated. I might just need some time. Clear my head.” At this, hisbreath began to hitch, and he pulled the phone away to sneeze twice into hiselbow.

Yuri sighed a bit. “Yousound like shit. Go back to bed, dude. I can call you when you’re better.”

“Yeah,” Otabek replied, wincing at the evenrougher sound of his voice.

“And…..text me.When you wake up. Let me know you’re still alive.”

Otabek huffed a small laugh. “I will.”

They hung up, and Otabek finally got to blow his nose. SoYuri wanted him to text when he woke up….maybe he was worried after all.Otabek felt a bit bad for worrying him.

But also, it was kind of nice that someone cared.

He trudged back to his bed, making a quick note on his phoneto buy some cold meds the next day. As he was finishing, a message from Yuricame up: it was a cat meme, with no context, of course. Was he trying to makeOtabek feel better?

Otabek smiled at the thought. Sending a quick“LOL” to Yuri, he put his phone down, crawled back under the covers,and was out within minutes.