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It’s been raining for six hours now and Yuri still isn’t home. Otabek isn’t trying to freak out, after all, the witch is more than competent with his power of flight – he’s been doing deliveries in their seaside city for nearly six months and has garnered a good reputation. But the rain is heavy and it’s the first wave of a cold front that is expected to usher in the winter, so yes Otabek is worried.
The wind has picked up significantly in the last twenty minutes; the trees outside of the bakery rustle loudly and the streets are completely barren despite the relatively early hour.
Otabek tries to reason with himself. It’s barely eight o’clock and Yuri is usually home by nine. Hopefully with the rain this bad he stayed put, but he can’t remember if Yuri is simply across town or a village away.
Regardless, Otabek is beside himself with worry, especially when the lightning starts off in the distance. Hopefully Yuri isn’t stuck in the clouds in all that; the idea of flight is already mystifying and daunting to Otabek – flying in a thunderstorm is unthinkable.
“Are you planning to keep the place open much longer?” Yuuri Katsuki asks, the cash register popped open as he balances the books for the day.
“Hm? Oh, right.” Otabek turns the open sign to closed and backs away from the window.
“It’s pretty nasty out there, huh?” Yuuri asks.
“Yeah… it is…” Otabek takes the remaining stock of bread to the back. “How much longer do you think he’ll be gone?”
“Hopefully someone will give him a room for the night, it’s not supposed to clear up until morning.” Yuuri says with a sigh.
“Well… You better head out, right? Viktor will worry if you’re gone too long.” Otabek gives his work bench one final wipe down before closing off the kitchen.
“He already called; he’s bringing the car.” Yuuri hands off a bundle of cash to Otabek.
“And the baby I assume?” Otabek teases lightly.
“Of course he’s bringing the baby, they’re inseparable.” Yuuri blushes as he thinks fondly on his little family.
“Do you need an umbrella?”
“Um… If you don’t mind.”
Otabek rummages through the closet for a moment before producing said umbrella.
“Yusha! Love of my life!” Viktor barges into the bakery, closed sign be damned, with a smile on his face and a baby girl strapped to his chest.
“Vitya, I told you to wait in the car,” Yuuri chuckles.
“We’ve been apart all day, lovey, I couldn’t wait another second!” Viktor closes the distance between them, moving one hand from the baby’s back to his husband’s cheek as he kisses him.
“You’re such a sap.” Yuuri taps his shoulder.
“Our little princess missed you too,” Viktor claims, adjusting one of the straps on his wrap to reveal one very sleepy infant.
“Oi, look at her little face. Hi sweetheart,” Yuuri coos at his daughter.
Otabek approaches the couple with a small box of fruit pastries. “Get home safe.”
“Are you kicking us out, Otabek? Is it so you can have some alone time with a little witchling?” Viktor asks with a laugh.
Yuuri fixes Viktor with a glare. “Vitya.”
“What? It’s a fair question!”
“Yuri’s not home yet,” Otabek admits with a sigh. “I’m worried.”
“He’ll be fine, he’s always fine,” Yuuri tries to encourage him.
“I know.” Otabek nods.
The little one makes a disgruntled sound and Yuuri is set into doting father mode.
“Oh little one, hush now, it’s alright.” Yuuri lifts the baby out of Viktor’s wrap.
“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” Viktor grimaces.
“Unless you want to wait out the rain,” Otabek offers limply.
“No, no, we need to get little miss home,” Yuuri says shouldering his bag. “Call me when you hear from Yura, alright?”
“Will do.” Otabek nods as the pair bundle up to face the rain.
Otabek is hesitant to lock up the bakery, but Yuri usually comes through the back anyway. Still, he lingers in the front his shop, admiring the work that he and Yuuri have put into the building over the years.
What once was a nearly derelict, crumbling pile of bricks and rusted appliances has become a beautiful bakery tinged with a hominess that a city like theirs craved. A perfect blend of modern and old world, the two cousins had poured their hearts and souls into the place. With Yuuri’s business sense and Otabek’s knack for baking, it seemed like a recipe for success.
Six years and many DIY projects gone awry, their little shop is their pride and joy. When Viktor Nikiforov, one of the greatest witches of all time, landed in their yard three years ago with a crisis of faith, a loss of power, and a massive crush on Yuuri, Otabek was pretty sure he’d seen it all.
Then six months ago Otabek found a witchling, freshly eighteen and on his own journey of independence. Otabek felt the need to take him in, already accustomed to oddities of witchcraft and knowing that a year is small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. That and he had a newly vacated room thanks to Yuuri’s departure to get married and start a family. That helped.
Yuri and Viktor couldn’t be more different, however. Where Viktor’s magic is controlled chaos – bright bursts of immense power – Yuri’s powers are still stabilizing. There have been too many times when Otabek has brought up fresh linens or the like only to find Yuri dealing with the blowback of a spell gone wrong. Otabek’s personal favorite was when Yuri accidentally removed the gravity from the house… the brioche had never been fluffier.
Now, Otabek is starting to lock up the shop, a pit of worry heavy in his gut as Potya, Yuri’s familiar, sits at the top of the steps.
“Master hasn’t come home yet,” she says licking her paw. “And you worry for him.”
Otabek will never get over the talking animals part of having a witch in the house. “So do you.”
“Indeed.” Potya stretches from her perch before descending the stairs. “We should not worry so, master is gifted in flight. I think he should have been born with wings.”
Otabek chuckles as Potya rubs against his legs. “That I’d like to see.”
“Perhaps the two of us cuddle by a fire; it is so cold upstairs.” She purrs against his calf.
“And I presume milk is on the menu?” Otabek asks, plucking her into his arms.
“Oh how decadent, you are a good friend to us.” Potya nuzzles Otabek’s jaw in response.
Otabek takes the cat upstairs and does find it to be quite chilly. He lights the first fire of the season and fetches the kitten a bowl of milk. She purrs like a motor beside him as Otabek settles in with a bowl of his own; a sausage roll and a bit of soup that Yuri made yesterday. It’s divine and really all of this would be perfect… if Yuri were here.
Yuuri is completely convinced that Otabek is well on his way to entering a courtship of his own. He made a joke about witches and love landing in their laps, but Otabek has been denying it fervently. Still… maybe there is something more to the feeling in his chest whenever Yuri crops up.
As Otabek is doing the dishes, there’s a loud thud in the garden and Otabek is suddenly worried that his apple tree might not be faring so well with the weather. He rushes over to the window and feels his heart seize in his chest at the sight of Yuri struggling to right himself in the garden.
Otabek runs out and down the stairs towards the young witch, heart lodged in his throat as he reaches the shivering figure.
“Yura? Are you okay?”
“Ye-yeah.” Yuri blinks up at Otabek, the rain pelting his freezing skin.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” Otabek helps guide Yuri to his feet and rushes him indoors. Yuri is still clutching his broom as the pair enter the living room. “I’ll go get you some dry clothes, okay?”
Yuri sneezes in response, trying to pry his boots off of his feet.
Otabek hurries to Yuri’s room to collect something warm for him to wear. He returns with towels, wool socks, a sweater, and an extra blanket tucked under his arm.
Yuri has made a puddle where he stands; he seems to have only half undressed, still wearing his sopping wet shirt and pants. Only now he’s observing his broomstick, though he seems satisfied that it doesn’t appear damaged.
“I’m sure your broom is fine, Yura, you need to get out of those clothes. You’ll catch cold otherwise.”
Yuri seems to startle at Otabek’s presence.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, gently placing his broom in its spot. “If my broom gets damaged, I’m out of a job.”
“If you get sick, you’re out of your health. One of those is infinitely more important,” Otabek says, ushering Yuri to the bathroom.
“Whatever.” Yuri slams the bathroom door in response.
Otabek takes no offense to this reaction. Yuri has faced a fair amount of trouble in his line of work; deliveries are only a small part of the job, after all, and he’s still training in potions and charms. That leaves out the spell mastery that he’s still coming to grips with; he’s going through a lot and he’s going through it on his own.
Yuuri and Otabek at least had the choice to set out on their own, and their families are still in a village half a day away. Yuri, as far as Otabek can tell, has no one else nearby. Witches are expected to leave home at eighteen, to build character, hone their craft, and find their purpose. The idea of that is truly daunting in Otabek’s eyes.
Yuri emerges a few moments later, still wringing out his long, blonde hair and shivering as he goes.
“There’s soup if you want it,” Otabek offers with a gesture towards the fire.
“And milk if you so desire,” Potya says, swishing her tail from her perch.
Yuri plops down in front of the fire, pulling the blanket tight around his frame. Otabek hands him a bowl of soup and continues to feed the flames.
“How was the delivery?” Otabek asks.
“Fine,” Yuri says into the soup. “Just took a while.”
“Where did you go?”
“A village a ways away,” Yuri says. “Toi, I think they called it.”
“That’s pretty far; it takes Viktor two days to get there by car.”
“Well, Viktor’s old and senile, he’d probably get lost,” Yuri asserts.
“And the family was happy?” Otabek asks.
“Well… the old man was,” Yuri admits. “I helped him make a cake for his grandson’s birthday… but the grandson turned out to be an ungrateful brat.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“Perhaps you should vaporize him, master,” Potya suggests, hopping down and strutting towards the pair of them.
“You’re right.”
“No, she’s not,” Otabek playfully scolds him.
“What kind of stupid kid is ungrateful for their grandfather’s cooking anyway? He put in so much work to make him that fish pie and the kid rolled his eyes when I handed it off.”
There’s an unspoken end to that sentence: I’d give anything to have grandpa’s cooking again.
Otabek rubs a bit of warmth into Yuri’s shoulder.
“Anyway, I just wanted to be done… the old man offered to let me stay with him… but I beat the rain to make the delivery, I figured I’d get home before the storm… guess I was wrong.”
“Indeed, it was quite reckless, Master. If you had been hurt, I’d be without a witchling. And I did so hate the search.” Potya sits beside Otabek, staring sagely at her master. “It would have been wise to keep out of the rain and stay put in spite of your feelings.”
“I know that.” Yuri rolls his eyes.
Potya licks her paw. “And now you’re soaking wet, how will I get to sleep if I am dampened by your side?”
“You can sleep with Beka if you’re going to pitch a fit about it,” Yuri sasses her.
“Hm… my good friend, would I be allowed in your chambers?” She glances at Otabek.
“I have an open-door policy,” Otabek chuckles.
Yuri sneezes again and Potya bristles in response. “Now my master is ill, how will we continue our quest to stabilizing your magic if you are so indisposed?”
“It’s a cold, Potya, I’m not going to die.”
Otabek feels Yuri’s forehead; no fever yet, but the shivering does have him worried. “You’ve been working too hard lately, you should take it easy.”
“I’m not working hard enough; it’s been six months and my magic is still far too unpredictable. Flying is the only thing that I can do on command, I have to keep practicing.”
“You’ll end up with worse than a chill if you keep at it,” Otabek warns him. “Yuuri used to say something similar to me when we were building this place.”
It’s silent then, almost as if Yuri is begging Otabek to continue.
“I spent endless hours trying to make this place our home… I got lost in it… Yuuri worried if I spent too long with my nose to the grindstone, I’d forget to see the sun.”
“It’s not hard to find the sun here,” Yuri says as a crack of thunder rings out. “Except for days like this… I guess.”
“I’m just saying… if you work too hard, you’ll never see the progress you’ve made. You’ve come a long way, Yura, you should give yourself a bit of grace.”
Yuri thinks on that for a moment, then a cough breaks out of his chest.
“Promise me you’ll rest tomorrow? I’ll close the bakery and everything.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know the noise can be a bother, it’s no trouble,” Otabek says. “Anyway, keep warming up and eat your soup. I’m going to call Yuuri to let him know you’re okay.”
“They worry too much.”
Otabek nods with a smile before descending the stairs to give Yuuri a ring.
“Hello?” Otabek can hear the confusion in Yuuri’s tone.
“It’s Otabek, Yura just got home. I think he’s caught a cold from the storm though.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised by that; Viktor isn’t either. He already brewed up a potion to bring over tomorrow, says it’ll give his immune system a boost.”
“That’s very thoughtful, tell him thank you for me.”
“I will… and by the way, it’s a proven fact that kisses are quite healing.”
Otabek just barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I might close the store tomorrow. With the weather and Yuri’s cold I think it might be the best option.”
“Good idea, I’ll see you tomorrow either way.”
“Thanks.”
“Tell Yura we love him and to get plenty of rest.”
“Will do.”
By the time he returns to the living room, Yuri’s soup is finished and he’s nodding off by the fire.
Otabek takes to brushing Yuri’s still-damp hair with his fingers… he’s so beautiful Otabek can’t stand it. It’s not fair that Yuri is magically gifted, gorgeous, and so incredibly smart. No one person should get to be all three.
“Beka.”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“You’re so nice to me…” Yuri mumbles sleepily.
“Well, you keep life interesting. I need that,” Otabek tells him. His fingers gently caress Yuri’s hairline, and there’s something like a tingling electricity that passes between them. Yuri’s eyes droop further until Otabek is certain he’s asleep.
“Oh look at that! How sweet,” Potya purrs.
“What?” Otabek asks softly, looking up at the familiar.
“That magic you felt just now? It’s a bit of aura, how do you humans talk about it?... Aura is what we call magical essence in the world… like a thread of power, yes?”
Otabek cocks his head at the cat.
“Every living being has a bit of power in it, that’s how we have life and souls and the like. Witchlings can use such aura to cast spells, brew potions, you see where I’m going with this.” Potya trots closer to Otabek. “Emotions can draw out aura in others too, that Yuuri fellow is drenched in it. Master Viktor can’t seem to keep himself from exuding that sort of magic. My master doesn’t draw much of his power from emotion… but now that he’s content under your touch, I suppose he cannot contain it.”
Otabek blushes in response. “You’ve got a good master, Potya.”
“I do indeed, he gives very good snacks,” Potya agrees. “And one day… he’ll be more powerful than anyone would ever expect.”
Yuri slumps further into himself; Otabek decides to take it upon himself to scoop the witchling up and transfer him to bed. Potya keeps an ever-watchful eye on the pair.
Before he can stop himself, he pecks Yuri’s forehead and feels that pulse of aura course through him again.
Potya purrs, “Now how can I convince you to do that when my master is conscious? Your affections might help his powers stabilize faster.”
“We can talk about that when he’s over his cold.”
Potya hops into bed with Yuri. “I will protect my master; you may rest now, friend.”
Otabek smiles at the cat, scratching her chin before he departs for his own room. It seems that Yuuri may have been right about kisses being a cure-all… he doesn’t exactly want to know how Yuuri came into that knowledge, but he’s grateful, nonetheless.
That night he dreams, a nice dream that he’s had ever since Yuri’s arrival. The bakery is quiet, just him in the kitchen as Yuri tending the garden plucking this and that for potion brewing. He wonders if that life is closer to reality than a dream. This time, when Yuri comes to the cooling window, Otabek kisses him sweetly.
He wonders if Potya, Viktor, and Yuuri are all conspiring against him… or for him?
Regardless, it’s a nice dream, one he wouldn’t mind becoming a reality if the opportunity arises… and maybe, just maybe, it’s his job to make sure that opportunity comes to pass.