Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea.

Rated T, but beware of some language (it's Yuri...) and implied sexual situations.

Enjoy~

Wrong Number

"He drives me nuts! I swear, one day he'll make me go insane, this stupid old man and that damn husband of his!"

Yuri lay sprawled across Otabek's bed, feet resting in the bed's owner's lap and he was playing around on his phone, hopping from one social media account to another, but never really paying attention to any of them. The young Russian was too busy bitching about Viktor's antics and his constant hovering around the Katsudon. Most of the time he could ignore the two lovesick idiots, but sometimes it just felt like he'd explode if he didn't get it off his chest. And Otabek, spending two weeks training at the Russian home rink, offered the perfect opportunity.

He rolled on his back, looking up at Otabek who sat leaned against the headboard, reading through a sports magazine and providing an agreeing nod or hum whenever needed. His foot rubs, too, were pretty great in Yuri's opinion.

"I mean, could you concentrate on your program if your coach told you to "Give your spins more passion, Yurio, and focus on the next jump, don't get distracted so easily!" while having his hand down the back of someone's pants!"

Otabek set down his magazine. He looked mildly surprised, but was maybe just preoccupied with moving Yuri's feet slightly away from his crotch. He started to carefully massage the calves that Yuri always complained hurt because of Viktor's stupid warm-up.

"Did that really happen?" He asked. "I thought they'd settled down by now."

"Multiple times," Yuri deadpanned, grimacing, before moving back on his stomach, giving Otabek better access to his other leg, and better view on his backside, then continued ranting.

"They're as bad as ever! Maybe even worse, they're all over each other! All the fucking time! It's so annoying. Get that, they live together, they're married for fuck's sake! It's not like they live miles away from each other and only see each other every few months because of training!"

"Like us, you mean?" Otabek remarked casually, his hands working their way slowly above Yuri's knees and towards his thighs. Yuri made a pleased noise, akin to a purr, and so Otabek continued, applying a little more pressure to the hardened muscles.

"Yes! It's frustrating!" Yuri pressed his face against the mattress to muffle a groan. "They're together all the time, and I only get to see you for a few days before you go back again. It's so unfair, you're my best friend, I want to see you more often."

"Yeah..." Otabek started, but then stopped. There was a short pause, as if he were first rehearsing in his head what he was going to say. He took a deep breath to mentally sober up and started tentatively. "Yuri, about that… Listen-"

But he didn't get to elaborate his point any further. All of a sudden, Yuri's phone went off.

Yuri glanced at the name flashing up on the screen and looked back at Otabek, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Great... Speaking of the devil, it's Viktor."

He reached for his phone, unlocked it and almost immediately started yelling, "What do you want? It's eleven at night, I'm not going to listen to you, again, gushing about the "amazingly romantic thing" you have to tell me about that turns out some sentimental bullshit Katsudon has come up with. Just send me a picture and be done with it."

At first, there was only silence, which was weird, since the older skater usually started to enthusiastically talk about whatever he called for, as soon as the call was answered. Then a faint, odd sound could be heard on the other end of the line.

"What, are you sulking now? Viktor? Aren't you even going to answer? Well, tough luck, because I'm hanging up now. Good ni-"

There were a few more strange noises Yuri couldn't really place. It sounded somehow like grunting, or, maybe more accurately, like moaning.

Yuri sat up, a confused expression on his face. He held the phone closer to his ear, this was starting to worry him a little, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"Hey, are you okay, old man?" He asked. "Viktor?!" But there was no reply. "Beka… listen to this..." He put the phone on speaker and held it in Otabek's direction. "Sounds weird, right? Do you think he's hurt himself or something?"

Right then, a strained, breathy voice came from the speakers.

'Oh god... yes...'

It was unmistakably the older Russian's voice. The moan that followed indicated he was either in a lot of pain, or the complete opposite. Though judging by his tone, the latter was more likely.

Otabek just stared at the phone thrust in his face, then at Yuri's innocent, clueless expression.

"Yuri… I think..." He started, but had to swallow first. "I think, Viktor didn't call you on purpose."

The blond looked at him askingly. "What? Why? How do you know?"

It was somehow quite cute how he had no idea what was going on. Although, on the other side of the city, Viktor Nikiforov did his best to dissipate this cluelessness.

'Yes... Yuuri... So good...'

Otabek himself nearly went a bit pink-faced. "Well, they're... busy," he said.

Viktor underlined his guess by moaning loudly, followed by a few other, obscene noises and a breathless command of 'Right there… harder!'

Like hit by a pan, realisation dawned on Yuri, and he stared at the phone as if it were leaking some toxic substance. His pupils were blown and he was gaping.

"Oh my god… I don't believe it…"

'Ah! I'm gonna-'

Yuri flung the phone away from him. It landed somewhere in a corner of Otabek's small rented flat. There was a distinct cracking sound, but for once Yuri didn't seem to care what happened to his precious phone.

"Turn it off," he screeched, disregarding the fact that the connection was probably more than dead. "Turn it off right now!"

Then he pulled the big pillow over his head and started kicking the mattress with his feet as if this might be a way to turn back the clock and prevent answering the call in the first place.

Otabek watched, a little worried about the younger skater's mental sanity, when he heard a muffled voice grumbling from under the pillow.

"I'm going to kill him. Next time I see him, I'm going to fucking murder him. Very, very slowly."

"Yura... Are you okay?" The Kazakh man asked and lifted the pillow to peer under it. He couldn't help a small, amused smile at Yuri's futile flailing.

"No! No, I'm not okay!" Yuri glared at him, though it wasn't exactly directed at Otabek, more like at the only one nearby. The blond's hair was helplessly ruffled and his voice was a mere hair's breadth away from cracking because of exasperation. Then he snatched the pillow from Otabek's hands and demonstratively hid his head once more, only to lift it again seconds later. He gestured wildly in direction of his smashed phone.

"Viktor fucking ass-dialled me! He ass-dialled me while having sex! With Katsudon! I so did not want to listen to him getting done by Katsudon! Or whatever the hell they're up to right now…" Yuri shuddered. "Argh! I'll never be able to forget this! It's burned in my mind! I'm traumatised!"

Regarding him for a few more seconds, Otabek came to the conclusion that Yuri was definitely on the verge of freaking out. He had to do something.

"Hey, calm down..." He tried to intervene, putting a calming hand to Yuri's back.

Apparently though, it did not work. At the touch, Yuri's head snapped up, his sparkling blue eyes focusing directly onto Otabek's brown ones.

"Oh god, Beka, what am I going to do if I'll really never forget it?! If every time I see them, in my mind, I'm going to hear them - fuck, urgh!"

"Yura..." Otabek tried again, but was ignored in favour of Yuri sinking his small fist into the poor pillow, probably imagining it to be a certain other Russian's face.

"What am I going to do?! I don't want to remember that! Not now, not ever! I've got to forget it, but how?! I-"

Not knowing what else to do, Otabek took Yuri's face in both his hands and just kissed him. It suited his own agenda pretty well, anyways.

At first, the lithe skater's body went rigid with surprise, but soon he gave in to the soft touch and pressed back against Otabek's lips, even parting his own a little and clutching at a fistful of the Kazakh's shirt. This was going better than he'd imagined, Otabek thought. His diversionary tactic, too, apparently had worked.

"B-beka?!" Yuri stared at him, frozen and wide eyed, when they separated again. "What'd you do that for?!"

The older skater shrugged his shoulders.

"Couldn't get you to shut up otherwise," Otabek stated plainly, despite his own inner turmoil. Because he'd finally done it. He'd finally manned up and kissed his fellow skater and long-time friend. Now he just had to sit and wait how Yuri took it. It didn't show, but he did feel a bit twitchy.

Yuri's mouth hung open, his outrage about Viktor's nightly activities completely forgotten - for the moment, at least. "That's why you'd kiss me?!" He asked sceptically.

"Yeah, I guess." Otabek shrugged again. It seemed like a good thing to do.

Yuri thought about it for a moment.

"Just like that?" He asked, cocking his head at Otabek and moving closer. The younger Russian now nearly sat in his lap and there was a new, mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"Mm-hm." Otabek hummed, going along with the game Yuri had obviously decided on playing.

"Can you do it again?" The blond asked, crossing the last bit of distance and completely crawling into Otabek's lap.

"If you want to..." Otabek said. He started to really like this game.

"Damn right, I do!" Yuri exclaimed, then flung his body forward, wrapping his arms around Otabek's neck, and pressed their mouths together.

As he kissed Yuri again, Otabek thought that tomorrow, he maybe should thank Viktor, since indirectly, he had been the start of it all. Even if the older man had no clue what he'd kicked off. Right then, Yuri tangled his fingers in Otabek's short hair and lightly bit his lip.

"Oi! You just kissed me, now concentrate," he said in his usual, demanding tone.

"Yes, yes... C'mere." Otabek replied smirking.

Yeah, he'd definitely do that - best before Yuri got to him.

»«»«

"Hey, Yurio. Good morning. I think I accidentally called you yesterday, but no harm done, right?"

"Viktor... I'm gonna give you a head start of ten seconds. You better start running."

"Huh? Why?"

"I'm counting. Nine seconds left now."

"What's going on? What did I do?"

"Eight."

"Is it because I called so late? Did I wake you?"

"Seven."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Six."

"Yurio? What... What are you doing with your skates?!"

"Five."

"H-hey, don't pick them up like that, that's dangerous!"

"Four."

"Yuri?!"

"Three, two, one. You're done, old man."

fin.

A/N

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~Writin'Redhead