Otayuri | complete

Kitten- Fluff

Word Count: 900

Coping is hard, but it gets easier after the funeral. I still wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes, tears on my face. But since I've temporarily moved in with Otabek, even that has become a lot easier.

The last skating season was a blur, but I stay with him during the off-season now. Otabek's family has been more than accommodating while I stay with them. Tamilya is as obnoxious as ever, but I love the precious brat to pieces-- not to mention the nephew on the way, by Otabek's eldest sister, is soon to be had. But on the flip side, Katsudon has been taking me to Yoga every Sunday, ritualistically stopping for coffee afterward and telling me about Victor's latest harebrained schemes.

Life is falling back into place around the space my grandfather left. I still feel shortchanged of his life, but in some ways, I have to admit that it's brung me closer to those I have left. And in the absence of one Agape-- nature abhors a vacuum-- I suddenly stumble on an unexpected new form of Agape.

"Yuri," Otabek mutters as he stops the motorcycle. "Stay here, something in the road is moving."

"Careful," I call after him, biting my nails like a fu--

No. I'm just fragile right now, that's all. Self-worth exercises to the rescue. Oh, Hell. Who am I kidding? I'm being a fucking wuss.

"Yura," Otabek hisses under his breath. He beckons me over with the wave of his hand. "Come look."

I jump off the bike, removing the dumb helmet and laying it on the seat. Curiously, I begin to jog up, but he lifts his hand in a gesture to imply that I ought to slow down. I swallow hard and try to peer through the darkness at whatever Otabek is kneeling before.

"It's a momma and her kittens," Otabek whispers when I hunker down beside him.

My eyes widen. I want to squeal like a fucking little girl but, surprisingly, contain myself. Instead of completely shaming myself, I look around.

"Any cardboard boxes?"

"Not that I can see."

"What do we do then?" I ask, bordering distress.

Otabek dials his mother. He mutters and mumbles in Kazakh-- the occasional Russian word thrown in that I can recognize. After a moment, he hangs up and looks at me.

"Grab as many as you can, I'll hold the momma."

"Uh-- oh-okay," I stutter as he begins to hand me a total of four kittens.

They are thankfully very tame-- perhaps a house cat that was dumped after she gave birth. The kittens are sweet to hold together, but the momma squirms under Otabek's arm occasionally. So, of course, I balance the four kittens, the momma cat, and myself, as we all desperately cling to Otabek's (slow-paced-- thank The Man Upstairs) motorbike.

When we arrive with the company of cats-- kittens, no less-- Tamilya comes running down the stairs. She is immediately scolded that it is well past her bedtime, but she doesn't mind that part. She is dying to see the kittens.

I let her see three of them, but the little calico-- that matches her momma's pelt perfectly-- won't detach from my sweater. She leaves tiny claw marks in my hand when I attempt to move her.

"That one likes you most, Uncle Yuri," Tamilya giggles, cuddling a soft tabby with green eyes. "I'll go get you a band-aid for her claw marks!"

"Pirozhki will not be pleased when she sees this," I fondly chastise the little calico.

She mewls, as if in protest. But Pirozhki soon saunters down the stairs to curiously examine all the commotion. The fluffy spoiled princess, I figure, is bound to hiss at the momma and the babies. But the two remaining kittens dance around Pirozhki while she calmly examines them, tail twitching only ever so slightly. Pirozhki looks up at me, makes eye contact, and meows.

"She clearly wants to keep one," Otabek's mother laughs, coming over to pet the kittens.

I'm unsure whether she meant Tamilya or my preexisting cat. But before I get the chance to ask, Tamilya comes back bounding down the stares with the pinkest, girliest, sparkliest band-aid she could find. She presents it to me as if bestowing the mighty Excalibur.

"Here you go, Uncle Yuri," she adds lightly.

"Why don't you put it on for me," I shift the kitten into my other hand, holding her against my chest, and offer Tamilya the lightly damaged hand. I nod a regal thank you when she finishes.

"What are we going to do with the cats?" Tamilya asks excitedly.

"Ask your father in the morning," Mrs. Altin winks, sending her up to bed.

"As for you, Yuri," she rounds on me. "If you want one, you are welcome," she smiles at the kitten in my hand. "I'm thinking we'll likely let Tamilya keep one. But the rest we will have to find homes for-- including Momma Cat."

"I think I have to keep this one," I cradle the little kitten in the crook of my elbow.

These kittens are probably six weeks old, only just old enough to be separated from their momma. But this one has no interest in her momma anymore.

"What will you call her?" Otabek asks, almost teasingly.

I think for a long moment, glancing to Otabek's mom helplessly. Then it comes to me.

"Agape."