“It was in your closet.” Yuri pulls the zipper higher. “It’s cold in here.”
It’s cold in Otabek’s flat because it’s January and the heating is erratic and also because the hoodie is the only thing Yuri is wearing, sleeves down to his knuckles, hem sagging to the top of his pale thighs.
Those thighs that Otabek wants to get his hands on, push apart, so there’s room to bend between them and make Yuri choke and bite and squirm.
Yuri stops to pose, although he’d never admit that’s what he’s doing, one hip canted and his fingers at his throat. Hair still bed-crumpled, ready for Otabek’s hands to tangle in while Yuri sucks Otabek’s mouth and scrapes his nails down Otabek’s back.
“I’ll make you tea,” Otabek says. But Yuri traps him, straddling his thighs, hands on the back of the couch, one on either side of Otabek’s head.
Yuri huddles his face down into the neck of the hoodie, eyes on Otabek’s eyes. “It smells like you.”
But it doesn’t. It smells like JJ.
Like that cologne JJ always wears too much of, even now, when Otabek walks past him in a hotel lobby. Like that hair product that JJ loved so much. It always made Otabek’s eyes water but he’s still got half a tin in the back of his sock drawer. Like JJ’s sweat and sleep and long, long legs wrapped around Otabek’s waist.
Otabek hasn’t taken it out of the closet for two years. But he sees it every time he opens the door.
Yuri shifts in his lap and Otabek knows he’s got a short window to respond before Yuri gets angry or hurt or embarrassed.
“Let’s go back to bed.” O puts his hands on Yuri’s thighs, far enough down that he’s not touching the ragged hem. Looks into Yuri’s face so he can’t see the stain on the front and remember how it got there. “Take that off, I should have thrown it out.”
“Can I keep it?” Yuri arches back, pulls the cuffs down to his fingertips. He toys with the zipper, will he pull it down for Otabek? Back up to tease him?
JJ never teased, not like that. He covered Otabek like a winter blanket, like a sprawling family dog, gnawing Otabek’s heart like a soup bone.
“Take it off,” Otabek says and doesn’t give Yuri time to think, just takes the hoodie by the shoulders and yanks it up so Yuri has to raise his arms or be caught inside it.
Yuri’s eyes go bright and he leans in for Otabek’s kiss before Otabek can even take in his body gleaming in the morning light, naked in Otabek’s lap, in Otabek’s flat.
He’s perfect, shining, strong, and perfect, and Otabek is happy to take him back to bed, to make him breakfast after, to walk beside him in the cold and rest under his arm.
“Where’s that hoodie?” Yuri asks, after they’ve paused the movie for the third time.
“It’s too old,” Otabek says. He gives Yuri another hoodie from his closet, soft, unstained, with sleeves that fit.
Yuri curls up inside it, smug and beautiful, and Otabek hopes that when it’s old and worn, Yuri will throw it away because Otabek will still be there to give him another one.
He’s still wearing it when Otabek leaves him at the airport, one clinging kiss, then turning back to wave before he rolls off to security.
When Otabek gets home, he puts JJ’s hoodie back in his closet.
Over to beltenebra!