( The ride would be even more pleasant, Yuri thinks, if he could just put his arms around Otabek's waist like he's seen people do in the movies. He never feels like he's going to fall but he suspects that his friend would be a comfortable presence in his arms; he smells good, and he's warm, and -
Yuri squeezes his eyes shut, privately embarrassed by his stupid thoughts. When did this happen? At what point did he start daydreaming like the Piggy and Viktor? Only one thing is for certain: he needs to get his shit together before they get off the bike.
By the time they pull into the car-park he's feeling slightly more like himself. Yuri dismounts when they come to a halt, then removes his helmet so that he can rake a hand through his hair a few times. It's messy, but he doesn't really care. Otabek never seems to mind when he looks a bit of a state. )
Your room or mine?
( Yuri gives Otabek and considering look. )
... Actually, mine. It's closer.
( No room for argument. Yuri makes a vague hand gesture and heads towards the lobby, letting a comfortable silence between them as the elevator deposits them up onto the 7th floor. There's no signal in the shaft but by the time they reach his room his phone has reconnected; he checks for more Instagram updates as he swipes his key and lets them into the room.
Hurricane Yuri hit at some point in the last couple of days. The clothes that aren't in messy piles strewn across the floor are hanging out of his suitcase, or draped over chairs, and his pink and black costume is hanging in front of the mirror like a fancy-as-fuck spectre. He shrugs out of his jacket and throws it towards a suitcase before kicking off his shoes, then rummages around to find a pair of comfy black sweatpants. )
Sit, or whatever. I'm going to change.
( .... In the bathroom. Not in front of him. He slips into the en-suite and closes the door behind himself. )
no subject
( The ride would be even more pleasant, Yuri thinks, if he could just put his arms around Otabek's waist like he's seen people do in the movies. He never feels like he's going to fall but he suspects that his friend would be a comfortable presence in his arms; he smells good, and he's warm, and -
Yuri squeezes his eyes shut, privately embarrassed by his stupid thoughts. When did this happen? At what point did he start daydreaming like the Piggy and Viktor? Only one thing is for certain: he needs to get his shit together before they get off the bike.
By the time they pull into the car-park he's feeling slightly more like himself. Yuri dismounts when they come to a halt, then removes his helmet so that he can rake a hand through his hair a few times. It's messy, but he doesn't really care. Otabek never seems to mind when he looks a bit of a state. )
Your room or mine?
( Yuri gives Otabek and considering look. )
... Actually, mine. It's closer.
( No room for argument. Yuri makes a vague hand gesture and heads towards the lobby, letting a comfortable silence between them as the elevator deposits them up onto the 7th floor. There's no signal in the shaft but by the time they reach his room his phone has reconnected; he checks for more Instagram updates as he swipes his key and lets them into the room.
Hurricane Yuri hit at some point in the last couple of days. The clothes that aren't in messy piles strewn across the floor are hanging out of his suitcase, or draped over chairs, and his pink and black costume is hanging in front of the mirror like a fancy-as-fuck spectre. He shrugs out of his jacket and throws it towards a suitcase before kicking off his shoes, then rummages around to find a pair of comfy black sweatpants. )
Sit, or whatever. I'm going to change.
( .... In the bathroom. Not in front of him. He slips into the en-suite and closes the door behind himself. )