#p:twbodls

[iamtheicetiger]

This Will Be Our Dirty Little Secret // Complete

Characters: Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin, Mila Babicheva Setting: Moscow, Russia, the morning after Set On Fire Summary: Yuri and Otabek’s lazy morning ends early when Mila discovers them together. Warnings: Language

Otabek: 

If Otabek had been asked the night before whether or not he could sleep forever with Yuri by his side, he would have said yes without hesitation; if he had been asked the same question in his confused, groggy state as he woke to the sound of pounding on the door, he would have probably still agreed, but maybe with a little less gusto.  

“Hmm?” he huffed, eyes flying open.  Reaching over to the bedside table and groping around awkwardly for his phone, he pressed the home button and felt his heart jump into his throat.  “Fuck,” he cursed, trying to sit up and immediately being pulled back down by long, pale arms and legs wrapped around his entire body.  The pounding on the door continued as he tried, a little more carefully, to disentangle himself.  “I’m coming,” he called out, finally stepping onto the floor.  His gaze swept down to the sleeping blonde in his bed, and he smiled softly before turning around and padding over to the door.  

The moment he opened it, his heart sank.  “Mila,” he stated, hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head.  He stepped into the hall and pulled the door to, uncaring of his lack of clothing, just not wanting her to see Yuri in his bed.

“Otabek,” she responded.  Her gaze moved past him to the nearly-closed door and she raised her eyebrows.  “Is there a reason I’m not allowed in your room?”

“What?” Otabek stammered, heart pounding.  “No, no, it’s just really dirty and uh…” He cringed internally, realizing no amount of excuses could convince Mila to go away.  He didn’t stop her as she pushed past him and into the room, just followed her and waited for the inevitable freakout.

At first there was a long silence.  Otabek hoped and prayed to whoever may be listening that it was a good silence, but then Mila turned around and fixed him with a scathing glare.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she demanded.  Loudly.

Yuri: 

Having mostly sobered up before falling asleep, Yuri actually had gotten a fantastic sleep. In fact, he was pretty sure that this was the best sleep he’d gotten in quite awhile. He was comfortable, wrapped around Otabek for the entire night.

Until Otabek insisted on getting up and answering the knocking at his door, that was. Yuri whined softly as the musician pulled away from him, hoping that the man would quickly get rid of whoever it was that was bugging them so early in the morning. If Otabek got rid of them and allowed the blonde to sleep for just another hour, Yuri would definitely repay him with a round two.

The bed was cold now that Otabek had gotten up, and Yuri snuggled sleepily more into the covers, trying to ignore the conversation that was going on outside of the door.

Suddenly, though, the door was open, an angry voice rousing him from any sleep he had still hoped to get. “Would you shut up?” he grumbled, pulling the comforter up over his head as he once again tried to tune out the shrill voice that was entirely inappropriate given how early it surely was.

Otabek: 

Otabek winced.  If Mila wasn’t upset about the situation before, she certainly was now:  her face turned from anger to absolute rage quicker than Otabek thought possible.

“No, I will not shut up,” she spat in Yuri’s direction.  “Otabek, care to explain what he’s doing in your bed?  I thought the two of you hated each other, then I found out I was wrong, then I thought you two had learned your lesson and now I find out that I’m wrong again?”

“What is the matter with you?” Otabek demanded, glaring at Mila.  “So I slept with him!  So what?  How is that any of your business?”

“It’s my business because I’m your manager and you are a popular musician who has to maintain a certain level of professionalism, Otabek,” Mila retorted with a bit more venom than necessary.  “Sleeping with your fans will not earn you anything.”

Otabek scoffed.  “Yuri is not my fan, Mila, he’s different.”  His eyes flicked over to the blonde.  

“Oh, different?  Yeah, I’m sure he’s different, sleeping with a well-known musician on a whim.”

Yuri:

Yuri hadn’t expected Mila to listen, and he groaned loudly as she snapped at him, unsure of what exactly he had done to make her so angry. He had a habit of pissing people off, but he was pretty sure that his only fault right now in her eyes was that he was falling for Otabek.

His eyes shot over toward the pair, rolling them languidly as the manager continued to spout off. This obsession over who Otabek chose to sleep with didn’t seem like part of her job description, and he was growing more annoyed the more she spoke.

Knowing that his sleep was definitely over at this point, Yuri sat up, sharp eyes glaring over at Mila. He was still half asleep, he was grumpy, and now, Yuri was livid. A fan? Yuri wasn’t some fanboy who had stalked Otabek until he got what he wanted. He had barely even known who the man was until yesterday.

At the risk of angering Otabek, Yuri wasn’t about to just sit back and not stand up for himself.

“You don’t know anything about me, hag!” the Russian snarled, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “What the hell business is it of yours? Are you jealous because no one wants to fuck you? You shouldn’t even be in here right now!”

Otabek:

“Whoa, Yuri,” Otabek exclaimed, hands moving in a universal ‘calm down’ gesture as he made a clearly futile attempt to diffuse the situation.  “Mila, stop, just get out.”

“Oh, so you’re sending me out and not the slut who probably pestered you until you slept with him?” Mila shouted, eyes flashing and red hair fanning around her.  “And just for your information, Yuri, I’ve seen more action in the last year than you’ve seen your entire life.  You look like a fucking little girl.”

“Oh, Christ, Mila,” Otabek groaned.  “Get out!”  He turned to Yuri, panic in his eyes.  “Yuri, stop, antagonizing her will only make it worse.”

“I’m leaving, Otabek,” Mila seethed.  “It would probably be wise for you to send your whore away too, before you create negative press.”  The angry manager turned on her heel and swept out of the room like a tidal wave, slamming the door shut behind her with enough force to knock a picture off a nearby wall.  Otabek took a few deep breaths, ran his hands through his hair.  

“Yuri…” he started, but was unable to find the right words to say.

Yuri:

Un-fucking-believable.

Otabek wanted him to calm down? He was the innocent party here. Mila was the one who had burst into the room unwanted, slandering Yuri when he’d just been sleeping. He wasn’t just going to calm down.

“Fuck you, you dumb bitch!” Yuri roared, leaping out of the bed with absolute fire in his eyes. “And you,” he snapped, rounding on Otabek and poking an irate finger at his chest. “Are you kidding? I’m the one who’s antagonizing? Why are you taking her side?”

At this point, Yuri was hurt, but he didn’t want to betray that emotion. Anger was much easier for him, and anger was what Otabek was going to get at this point.

Yuri was seeing red, barely even noticing as Mila left the room despite how hard she had slammed the door. He stalked away from the bed, wishing more than anything that he hadn’t worn those skin-tight pants last night. Fury was written across his face as he tugged his tank top over his head. Rather than flounder with trying to shimmy into them and making himself look like an idiot in front of Otabek, he snatched them up and walked to the door.

“No,” Yuri said, his voice dangerously low. “Fuck you, Otabek. Clearly I should have never come back here with you.”

Otabek:

Otabek followed Yuri to the door, reaching out for him, but recoiled at Yuri’s final comment.  “You don’t mean that,” he said, trying but failing to keep the hurt out of his voice.  “I wasn’t trying to take anyone’s side, I just…she is hard to calm down once she gets started and I didn’t want it to get worse.  Please believe me, Yuri.”

Otabek searched Yuri’s angry face, trying to find a sliver of forgiveness in those roiling green eyes.  “Please,” he whispered.

Yuri:

“All those things she said about me, and you didn’t say anything,” Yuri barked, though he didn’t know why he ever would have expected someone he barely even knew to stand up for him. They may have shared a couple of secrets last night, but that didn’t mean that they knew each other. Clearly Otabek didn’t like Yuri as much as he had claimed.

“Slut, whore, little girl,” he rattled off, sneering at the musician. “You didn’t defend me at all!”

Otabek:

Otabek groaned, throwing his head back and running his hands through his hair nervously.  “Yuri, I told you, she’s difficult to calm down.  Of course I wanted to defend you, but imagine what would have happened.  I would be standing here having a very similar argument with her.”  He sighed, closing his eyes.  “And you know I don’t think you look like a little girl.  I wouldn’t have slept with you.”

Otabek felt himself losing the battle, seemingly powerless to stop it.  He opened his eyes and looked back down at Yuri.  “Please don’t do this.”

Yuri:

“I don’t need you to defend me now! I know that I don’t look like a little girl!” the Russian seethed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. Yuri knew that he was being a jerk, but he was upset. It wasn’t his fault that Otabek was scared of his manager. Yuri wasn’t going to put up with that shit.

Hard eyes stayed on Otabek for another moment before he was shaking his head. “Good luck on the rest of your tour,” Yuri said bitterly before he was turning on his heel and vacating the room, heading for the nearest public bathroom in the hotel so that he could at least fully dress himself before he completed his walk of shame back to his apartment.

Otabek:

A hundred thoughts swirled through Otabek’s mind as Yuri left.

Follow him. Tell him you need him. Remind him of last night. Follow him.

Follow him.

“Dammit.”  Otabek hung his head as he closed the door quietly behind Yuri, locking the deadbolt.  “What is happening?”  In a matter of a few minutes, Otabek felt the entire past twenty-four hours being torn from him, the happiness he’d felt souring.  Unable to stop tears from trickling out of his eyes, he leaned against the wall by the door and sank until he was sitting on the floor, knees curled up to his chest, crying into his arms.  Of course he knew he couldn’t tell Yuri everything he felt or he would drive him away even further, but the thought did seem tempting.  

Then, out of nowhere, a chilling thought occurred to Otabek:  he was supposed to play a show at Yuri’s venue in a mere few days.  His heart lurched in his chest, and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick; how had he not remembered something so important?  What was Yuri going to do?  Would he contact Otabek and tell him to forget about the show?  His venue would lose a lot of money if he did that, but did it really seem so irrational after everything that had just happened?  In Otabek’s grief-clouded mind, it didn’t.  He pushed himself up into a standing position and trotted over to the bedside table where he’d left his phone, picking it up and shooting Mila a quick text.

>How am I going to play a show at his place?

He waited a few minutes but when there was no response he growled at the phone.  Backing out of Mila’s text screen, he stared at the home page.  His thoughts went back to the night before and his talk about JJ.

He’ll want to know what just happened, Otabek thought.  Reopening the texting app, he tapped the button to begin a new text and frowned.  At the top of his contact list he noticed a hodgepodge of symbols.  Curious, he tapped the contact and nearly had a heart attack.

^._.^ YURI ^._.^

Yuri had added his number to Otabek’s phone.

Starting a new text faster than his brain could catch up, Otabek pounded out a message and hit send before he could tell himself how stupid an idea it was.

>I miss you.

Yuri: 

“Shithead,” Yuri muttered to himself as he rounded the corner, eyes shooting daggers at a housekeeper who stared at him as he passed, the woman averting her eyes sheepishly. He ducked into the nearest bathroom, closing a stall door behind him as he attempted to tug on his pants. It was somehow even more difficult in his anger, and he huffed indignantly, finally managing to push them up to his hips.

He felt like shit. Though he was still mad, he knew he’d hurt Otabek. In the short time that Yuri had known him, he’d learned that the musician didn’t tend to hide his emotions very well.

But this. This was exactly what he’d been talking about when he’d told Otabek that people didn’t tend to stick around for his personality. He was a hothead, and he knew it. At least he had ended whatever this was before he was forced to confront the feelings he’d begun to harbor for the other man.

Yuri sighed deeply, his pulse finally starting to slow as he calmed down. He needed to get out of here and just go home.

Exiting the bathroom stall, Yuri grimaced as he caught sight of his face in the mirror. He tossed some water onto his face, scrubbing at porcelain skin briefly before he was leaving the bathroom and heading out of the hotel.

He was thankful Otabek hadn’t followed him, not knowing what he would have done if he had. Hailing a taxi, Yuri set off for home, hoping to put the entire last 24 hours behind him. He wasn’t even ready to think about the fact that the musician would be playing a show at his arena in a few short days. Otabek should be easy enough to avoid, but that didn’t make the situation any less awkward.

Unfortunately, fate was not on his side this morning, his phone buzzing in his pocket. Yuri fished it out, briefly confused when he saw the unknown number flash across his screen, but he rolled his eyes to himself, remembering how he had typed his number in Otabek’s phone last night without the man’s knowledge. That was dumb.

He hesitated only briefly before he was deleting the text. Whatever he and Otabek might have had last night, it was over. Yuri needed to give it up and move on.