Requested Otayuri prompt
Prompt: “Will your parents be proud of your gold medal?“
Warnings: Yuri’s bratty mouth, hurt/comfort, sfw
Word count: 1,756
Another season, another year. Another competition in another city and a new gold medal hanging around his neck. It’s so new that his name isn’t even engraved on its backside yet. It weights against Yuri’s chest like he was born to win it, reflects the golden shimmer from his hair like they are one. Meant to be.
Yuri is proud, satisfied. The hunger inside him gone for the moment because all his efforts, all his hard work paid off. He’s no longer the Russian Fairy, the wonder child, the next Viktor Nikiforov. He’s Yuri Plisetsky - the ice tiger of Russia and his stripes are golden. The world knows that by now.
And everyone wants a piece of him. Including the press.
Yuri just turned 18. He’s blond and handsome, tall and athletic. His eyes are the colour of the stormy sea on a sunny day and his mysterious charisma is sexy and unpredictable.
At least that is the kinda bullshit they write in teen-magazines about him after they slapped his moody face on the front cover. Pissed of and rude is apparently the new interesting and desirable.
Which is only one of the reasons why Yuri hates dealing with the media.
Of cause he’s also grateful for the opportunities it gets him: Brand deals, sponsoring, advertising and modeling - a shit ton of money he can send home to his grandpa and spend on whatever the fuck he wants.
It’s the interviews he dreads. The personal stuff he can’t deal with.
He isn’t like Viktor. Viktor can happily chat with the media for hours without revealing the tiniest bit of his private life if he doesn’t want to. He can endlessly chatter and has everyone giggling and nodding in agreement. He’s a master of distraction and in the end half the spread is about Makkachin and every poodle in Russia gets adopted.
He isn’t like Chris who turns the tables around and makes the press-people blush and stutter. He can’t charm and flirt his way through every interview, making everyone drool until they forgot their original question.
And he certainly isn’t like Otabek who always keeps a pokerface, no matter how intrusive and rude the questions get. He couldn’t keep calm and cool like him. Otabek simply told the people if it was none of their business, that he wanted to protect his privacy. In a polite way of cause.
No, Yuri isn’t like them but he tries to be better. Tries to not snap and curse, to not throw a tamper tantrum anymore whenever he’s pissed of. He tries to act like a professional or like a grown up at least.
He still grits his teeth as the lady in the chair across from him asks one personal question after another. She’s not interested in his training or diet, doesn’t want to know what his next goals are and how he will surpass his own achievements. No, she’s very intrusive.
Yuri takes a deep breath, feels the medal move against his sternum. He can’t stand her, from her bright pink lipstick that stick to her teeth to her fake laugh, the look in her eyes reminds him of a shark he saw in a horror movie a while ago.
The journalist asks about Viktor and Yuri’s private life, which triggers something similar to protection inside of Yuri. She asks if he ever had a crush on Mila or maybe one of the hockey players at his home-rink. He huffs. She asks about his relationship with Otabek and wiggles her drawn-on eyebrows, looking over her shoulder at Otabek who is leaning against the wall just a few feet away from him. He’s playing with his phone while waiting for Yuri to finish up so they can go and grab something to eat.
Yuri glares at her, it’s getting harder for him to act like he doesn’t despite her and her cheep perfume that starts to hurt his head. But still, he tries to stay calm, grinding his fingers painfully into the armrest of his chair and giving her vague answers that she doesn’t want to hear.
Then she goes one step too far. "Will your parents be proud of your gold medal?“
Yuri’s blood runs cold. No. „Next question.“ He hisses out but now her eyes are gleaming and she won’t let die topic slide. Hot angers starts forming inside Yuri’s stomach at every new question she fires at him that is relating to his family. She wants to be the one to write the reveal of the Plisetsky-family-secret so, so badly.
She’s gonna be disappointed because Yuri is no idiot. He’s been skating alongside superstar Viktor Nikiforov for half his life, was a child prodigy to his home country that grew into another Russian athletic legend, he’s used to press and media. To be constantly watched and photographed.
His first kiss with a random girl was on the front cover of every Russian newspaper hours after it happened. The internet knows how much his cloths cost, which club he leaves with who and how he drinks his coffee. There are theories and gossip about his parents but he has never said anything to anyone besides Yakov and Viktor, Yuri doesn’t know if anyone guessed right yet.
The reporter doesn’t get her scandal story because Yuri snaps 20 seconds after she asked the question. Will your parents be proud of your gold medal? It’s echoing through his ears. What follows isn’t pretty. Yuri screams and says some ugly things, kicks his chair over and pours a cup of coffee over the notes the journalist had scribbled down during her interrogation. It’s probably all gossip and conspiracy theories anyways, this has nothing to do with figure skating!
Then Yuri storms out, his eyes starting to burn dangerously. Otabek follows after him, having watched his outburst.
He finds Yuri back at the ice-rink, sitting on the bleachers that are completely empty by now. They are alone, spare for a janitor that cleans up at the other side of the rink. Yuri has managed to swallow his tears but his expression is still grim, jaw clenched tightly. Otabek sits down next to him.
„I’m sorry you had to see that.“ Yuri says bitterly, not looking at him but staring at the ice.
„I’ve seen worse from you.“ Otabek shrugs and it’s true. Not that it bothers him, that’s what best friends are for. Right?
Yuri doesn’t laugh like Otabek had hoped. „That Bitch asked about my parents. If they’re proud of me.“ His voice is stained.
Otabek and Yuri are as close as they can get without becoming the updated version of Viktor and Katsudon and yet, Yuri had never mentioned his parents once to Otabek.
„I’m sorry.“ Otabek says honestly, not knowing what else to say.
„She wouldn’t stop prodding.“
„You don’t have to explain yourself, Yuri. Not to me.“
Finally he looks at him, his eyes full of anger and pain. „Don’t you want to know?“ He asks, almost as if he’s daring him.
Have I ever asked for more than you were willing to give? Instead Otabek answers: „I’ll listen if you wanna tell me, if you don’t then I won’t push you, Yura.“
Yuri swallows and looks like he struggles. Then he grabs Otabek’s wrist and unclasps the leather bracelet he gave him for his last birthday. He plays with it and doesn’t look at him when he starts talking.
„People think that there must be one big secret or scandal involving my family. That something tragic happened but the truth is much more sobering and uninteresting. I suppose it wouldn’t even make a good story or headline. Truth is that my father is an asshole and my mother a coward. I’m nothing like my Dad, he’s a big bulky Russian man with knuckle tattoos and a beer-belly. He’s very closed-minded and ignorant but my mother worshipped him for whatever reason. You can imagine his disappointment and disapproval when his only son turned into a prima ballerina, dancing around in glittery costumes and leaning alongside Viktor - king of the gays and shame to mother Russia - Nikiforov.
He practically disowned me. Now, I don’t know if my mother agreed with him or was simply scared of him, hell, I don’t even know if she wanted me in the first place.
I can’t remember either of them ever being very loving towards me or encouraging me. Fact is that they simply didn’t want me, they dropped me like a hot Pirozhki and left it to my grandpa to raise me. I can remember that my grandpa fought a lot with one of them on the phone but he couldn’t change their minds. I haven’t seen them in years. I thought they would come crawling back once I gained attention and made some money but nothing. I should be grateful that they are leaving me alone because no one needs people like that in their life but still … even now I’m not good enough.“ Yuri sniffs, angry that he still cares. Sad that he didn’t even had the chance to prove himself before they decided that he wasn’t worth sticking around for. „I don’t know if they keep an eye on me or even know what I’m doing but I know that they wouldn’t be proud, Beka. They don’t even care.“ His voice is small when he finally looks back up at Otabek and his eyes are wet.
„They are missing out, Yura. They threw away gold.“ Otabek says and doesn’t mean the medal and Yuri knows that, it causes his tears to silently fall from his lashes.
„I hate that sappy shit, Beka.“ Yuri says weakly.
Otabek ignores him. „You don’t need them. I’m proud of you instead. Your coaches are proud. Your skating family and rink mates are proud, so are your fans and thousand of strangers. Fuck them.“ He swears and wipes Yuri’s tears away.
This time Yuri does laugh because Otabek almost never swears and it’s delightful. „Yeah fuck them.“ He repeats and puts Otabek’s bracelet back onto his wrist. „I’m the motherfucking ice tiger and everyone wants a piece of me.“
„Do you know what I want a piece of?“ Otabek asks with mirth and Yuri shakes his head. „I want a piece of pizza. I’m starving.“
Yuri’s eyes go wide and the idea of the forbidden fast-food immediately cheers him up further. „Pizza.“ He moans and Otabek laughs.
„Come on then, golden boy. It’s my treat.“