Yuri on Ice, Approved for All Audiences

Title: Approved for All Audiences [Yuri/Otabek]
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Yuri and Otabek try to adjust to Almaty, the Olympics, and pair skating all at once.
AN: Threw down some Yurabeka quick, set loosely in the middle of Come When Invited, the one where they get married so they can do pairs in the Olympics for Team Kazakhstan, set a week or so before the wedding. Also I apologize in advance for some Kazakh that I can’t guarantee is entirely right.

Approved for All Audiences

“Approved?” Yuri said, head stuck in the fridge as he tried to dig the last strawberry yogurt out from behind Otabek’s gross plain ones. Then it sank in and he whipped his head around, yogurt forgotten. “Really?!”

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “Did you think you wouldn’t get approved?” Yuri spluttered, reaching for the express mailer Otabek was holding out for him, but Otabek flicked it backwards just out of his reach. “You had a press conference with two members of parliament and the entire Almaty Olympics Committee where they asked you formally to compete for us, and you thought your paperwork wouldn’t get approved?”

“Fuck off!” Yuri snapped, grabbing for Otabek’s wrist when he went to hide the envelope behind his back. Otabek snuck a kiss as Yuri stumbled into him, but Yuri just yanked the envelope out of his hand, not ready to be mollified. “Like it’s no big deal to you, asshole. You get to keep your country.”

“Hey,” Otabek said softly, and Yuri immediately regretted blurting that out. Otabek put hands on either side of Yuri’s face. “If this is too fast, that’s all right. We can call it off.”

“No,” Yuri says, rushed. “First of all, we definitely can’t call it off because I’m already holding my citizenship papers, and also if I have to do all these parties again, I’ll DIE. Also,” Yuri rushed on when Otabek opened his mouth, “I want to marry you, like, insanely badly. So fucking much. Don’t you dare tell me I have to wait longer now.”

“Yura,” Otabek murmured, eyes going dark like they did any time Yuri said words like married or husband or application for resident status. He used his grip on Yuri’s face to pull him down as he rose up on the balls of his feet for a kiss. It was sweet and clinging, Yuri unsure whether Otabek meant to give or get reassurance from it.

“M’sorry,” Yuri said, in case it was the second thing. “Don’t listen to me, I’m still jet lagged.” He leaned into Otabek until it was a proper hug, digging his chin into Otabek’s shoulder, Otabek’s arms secure around his waist. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I want you to be happy here,” Otabek said, so quietly Yuri could barely make out the words. “I’m scared I tricked you into this when all I wanted was to bring you home.”

“Tricked me,” Yuri snorted softly. “Yeah, the Olympics, such an obvious scam. Beka…”

“Because it’s only home if you want to be here,” Otabek went on. His grip around Yuri’s waist tightened until Yuri was almost breathless with it. “You’re more important, aynalayin.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuri scolded, affection swelling his heart painfully. He turned his head enough to rub his cheek along Otabek’s. “You’re the one who already told me when you moved to St. Petersburg. Sen menin uyim. My home is you.”

“UGH,” Otabek growled into Yuri’s neck, “you stop my heart.” And then his mouth was on Yuri’s, possessive and much fiercer than before, letting Yuri kiss away his insecurities for at least the moment.

Yuri thought about it at night, after Otabek was asleep, Otabek in a loose curl with Yuri a warm line along his back, fingers wrapped loosely around Yuri’s wrist where Yuri’s arm was draped over his waist. Yuri wasn’t the best with words expressing his emotions, but he could still tell when Otabek needed reassurance, needed Yuri to pull himself together for both of their sakes.

The next morning found them on the ice not long after dawn, Otabek tugging Yuri through easy warm-up laps by the hand. Yuri was preoccupied, staring at the ceiling and trusting Otabek not to swing him into the wall, pretending he didn’t notice the curious looks Otabek was starting to shoot him.

Their pairs coach finished hollering at someone on the phone and hollered for them instead, calling them over to where she was leaning on the barrier.

“All right, you two,” she said, face set in the expression that meant she was prepared to be firm with them. “It’s barely a week until your wedding and we still haven’t picked your—”

“It’s that,” Yuri interrupted, making both the coach and Otabek blink at him. “The theme for our free skate, it should be the wedding. You know, if Beka agrees, but,” Yuri snuck a glance at Otabek out of the corner of his eye, Otabek’s eyebrows rising almost into his hairline. “It’s all we can think about or talk about anyway. It has lots of parts like a story, it’s emotional, and it’s about us. We can use traditional-style music, and I think our wedding clothes would be easy to modify for the f—,” Yuri cut off as Otabek swooped him into the barrier and kissed him senseless.

“It is seven in the morning,” their coach reminded them crisply, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. “This lack of control is why you can’t land the throws either.”

“Is it all right?” Yuri asked breathlessly when Otabek let him up for air.

“Approved,” Otabek said, a grin lurking at the corner of his mouth that made Yuri want to slap it right off. “You’re a genius, kitten. When all of this is over, I’m going to take you on such a honeymoon.”

Their coach snorted. “If you two don’t peel yourselves off each other and show me the practice of a lifetime, I’m going to send you both to the moon.”

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