For: @emisketch, part of @yoi-secret-valentines2017
Summary: Yuri does something romantic for Otabek on Valentine’s Day. Otabek really, really wants to return the favour. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go to plan.
Genre: Fluff
TW: Food
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: I found out through my Expert Stalking (I’m kidding) that you liked baking, so this fic happened. Thank you for forcing me to overcome my writer’s block and write some quality fluff. I hope you enjoy; happy Valentine’s Day!
Read on AO3
“Beka, get up, I made breakfast.”
This morning, the window isn’t shielded by the curtains. It feels warm under the layers and layers of soft blankets. For the first time, the sunlight isn’t aggressive and the process of rising from bed doesn’t include someone - usually his caring, but equally aggressive boyfriend - frantically screaming for him to get out of bed for training.
“BEKA! I SAID GET UP, I MADE BREAKFAST!” Yuri shouts from the kitchen. Otabek spoke too soon, it seems.
He rolls out of bed, runs a hand through his hair and goes through the motions. Teeth, a quick shower, light cologne to feel fresh and clean, casual clothes. Once he’s done, he picks his phone up from atop the bathroom counter. Just then, the screen lights up.
February 14, 2017
Messages: Yuri Katsuki [09:45] - Happy Valentine’s Day! Hope you have a good one. Are you up for a double date tonight? Our treat. ;)
At the same time Otabek is done reading the message, he hears a phone being slammed down onto the table. “Fucking geezers,” Yuri growls. Okay, he read it.
On special occasions like this, either Katsudon or Victor would send them invitations for days out, chill-in sessions at either residence or fancy dinner double dates. On special occasions like this, Otabek and Yuri like to spend time together, away from other people, either on the sofa in front of the television or in bed. The conflict of interest between both couples is clear.
Reply: We’ll pass. Thanks
With his phone in hand, Otabek heads out into the kitchen. “Are you sure you made breakfast? I don’t smell potatoes, or bacon, or egg…” Otabek muses as he saunters into the living room. The table is empty, but-
He is interrupted by a hand in his air and another pair of lips on his. “Good morning, Beka,” Yuri greets. In return, Otabek litters his lover’s face with small, affectionate pecks. Yuri still shies away from the attention, but he has learned not to escape it. At this point in their relationship, they are like lovebirds - both are hopelessly in love, but are in denial of what is glaringly obvious to the human eye. (It’s also glaringly obvious to animals - ever since the first time they visited Viktor and Katsudon’s home together, Makkachin has learned not to interrupt both couples when they stare longingly into each other’s eyes.) The smell of egg batter and icing sugar frames the scene well - both scents not assaulting to the nose, but not too subtle either. It’s sweet enough.
“Go wait at the table, loser,” Yuri gives his boyfriend one more peck to the nose, turns him 180 degrees and gives him a slight push towards the dining table. The set-up is strangely elaborate for the occasion. Why are there two empty plates? Why are there paper hearts all over the table? Since when did Yuri do crafts? Why are the lights dimmed? The situation is confusing enough as it is. Otabek doesn’t need to wrack his brain for answers to those questions. And yet…
Yuri walks out of the kitchen wearing an apron with a pink hoodie underneath it. He is wearing the pair of grey sweatpants Otabek bought him at a Thai flea market just a few months ago. Yuri looks so soft and cuddly and oh. He’s holding a cake. It’s a small chocolate cake, nothing extravagant.
As Yuri gingerly places the cake onto the dining table, Otabek scrutinises the pink icing. It takes him a solid minute to make out the words. “мен сені жақсы көремін*,” the icing reads. Otabek notes that the handwriting is incredibly untidy. Yuri reads his mind.
“Yes, I know the handwriting is shit, I woke up at 4 for this, I was half-asleep, I -”
In between round after round of kissing his boyfriend, Otabek laughs, “Thank you, Yuratchka. I love you too. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Yuri blushes under the affection.
Two weeks after Valentine’s Day, Otabek decides to return the favour.
It’s Yuri’s birthday tomorrow, and Otabek - honest to God - does not desire to sacrifice his hard-earned sleep to bake. He wonders how and when Yuri came to the decision to bake a cake for Valentine’s Day. It’s incredibly uncharacteristic of the fifteen-, or shall we say, soon-to-be sixteen-year-old.
Otabek cannot bake on his own. Between his birth, school and learning to skate, he hasn’t had much free time on his hands to explore food creation. Thankfully, he had thought to buy a recipe book on Russian baking before today, and yes! There’s a good recipe!
According to the recipe, “these lovely apple pirozhki will take about 2 hours to complete”. Yuri is out for training now. It’s 2pm, his training ends at 5pm and I need to be off for yoga at 5.30pm. Time to hustle. Otabek takes out of a paper bag the groceries he bought specifically for this purpose. Apples, flour, sugar, some salt, potatoes, yeast - potatoes? He realises his mistake, and shifts the unnecessary ingredient to the side.
Otabek begins preparing the pirozhki. He goes through the motions of preparing the pirozhki he and Yuri usually enjoy together. Stand mixer, put in the necessary ingredients, cut up the apples, the potatoes, once the dough is done, put in the filling - oh, should I add some honey? Yuri likes his desserts sweet.
It’s 4.30pm. When the pirozhki go into the pan, Otabek thinks through his plan again. He considers decorating the table like Yuri did the last time, but decides against it. There’s not enough time. After all, he doesn’t have the luxury of enjoying desserts with Yuri like last time. He has yoga, why, oh why do I have to attend class in the evening today?
The pirozhki are done. Otabek picks one up and tastes it. “Why is it slightly salty? Why… oh no.”
There are potatoes in his apple pirozhki.
“Fuck, fuck, there’s no time to make these again… SHIT,” Otabek shouts into the void. As if on cue, the door clicks open. “Beka, you okay?” Yuri’s voice rings through the apartment. He walks into the kitchen, deeply concerned.
“I’m sorry, Yuri, I fucked this one up,” Otabek sobs helplessly into Yuri’s shoulder, finger wagging in the general direction of the apple-potato pirozhki. Yuri picks up the piece half-eaten by Otabek. He chuckles. He thinks it tastes good, and he doesn’t know what Otabek is saying. Whatever, I’ll humour him, he thinks, stroking the hair of a distraught Otabek.
“How do you bake without messing up? How did you have time to decorate the table too? How?” Otabek mumbles into Yuri’s chest. The second question startles Yuri.
“About the decorations… Katsudon and Viktor helped with those,” Yuri says with an air of disappointment. Otabek raises his head in time to see his boyfriend roll his eyes dramatically. “They said I need to be ‘more romantic’, so that was their attempt at helping me I guess. The geezers.”
Otabek sniffles into Yuri’s chest again, breathing in his scent and laughing heartily at his boyfriend’s absolute refusal to accept Katsudon’s and Viktor’s help.
“Your pirozhkis are a little salty, but they’re good enough,” Yuri continues, “you’re sweet enough.”
Otabek blushes. He forgets about the time.
*: Pronounced “men seni jaqsı köremin”, this is “I love you” in Kazakh.
I hope you liked this fic!
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