This is officially the sequel to Yuri!!! On Ice Book 1, but you don't have to had read that one to understand this one. This book carries an Otayuri-based plot and holds no carry-over from the first-- at least, nothing a reader wouldn't be able to u...
Directly following the last Chapter (read from the last chapter break of Chapter 28 on if you want to refresh your memory!)
Yuri's POV-- 3rd Person Omniscient
Yuri beamed from the top of the podium, radiating exhilaration to the cameras flashing away at the 2022 Olympic Medalists.
He still couldn't feel it, practically giddy from the thrill of it all. He'd won two consecutive Olympics. Two! The last male singles figure skater who had done that was Dick Button, and he had done it seventy years ago. He was the first in seventy years! Holy shit!
Yuri couldn't force the entirely uncharacteristic smile from his face, dimples showing as he bared his teeth at the screaming crowd and blinding cameras.
Coming back to his head from the dreamlike, alternate-reality-because-there's-no-fucking-way-this-is-real dimension he'd been inhabiting for the last few minutes, it took Yuri a few seconds to figure out what the cameramen were gesturing for him to do.
Ohhh, Yuri realized belatedly, the photographers wanted the medalists to hop down from the podium, and to pose in front of it.
Obliging (for once), Yuri did so, and posed for the pictures with his gold medal to his lips and his bouquet of flowers resting precariously in the juncture of his elbow. His flower crown snagged at his hair, worn down, and braided at the sides for the just-finished exhibition skate, but Yuri didn't care, too high on adrenaline to notice.
Once again, the cameras gestured for him to do something, shouting over the roaring of the crowd, and Yuri squinted to see their motions past the continuously flashing lights. Yuri's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to decipher the request amidst the chaos surrounding him, and jumped slightly when he felt an arm snake around his waist from the left. Oh, that's what the man had wanted: the medalists were supposed to put their arms behind each others' backs as a form of camaraderie.
Glancing to the side, the bronze medalist (whose name he had not an inkling of) already had an arm around him, and, still gazing ahead at the flashing cameras, Yuri groped for Otabek on his other side. Except he wasn't there.
Yuri stretched his arm, again finding nothing, and only then did the crowd both let out a collective gasp and go dead silent at the same time. The arm from his left disappeared, and, confused, Yuri looked over to where Otabek was standing, wondering why on earth he'd moved out of reach.
He realized why the audience had gasped.
Otabek knelt before him, smiling shyly, and holding his bouquet up to Yuri. A hand traveled to Yuri's lips.
"So, uh," Otabek began, cheeks tinting red. "I've been thinking about this for a while now, and, um, this is what I've got," the onlookers gave a collective chuckle; Yuri didn't even hear them. "I love you, Yuri," Otabek continued, "I've known that for longer than I'd care to admit," another little laugh, "And if you would, I'd really like to marry you." He paused, looking up at Yuri with a bashful sort of grin.
Yuri felt tears on his cheeks. He dropped, falling to his knees in front of Otabek, who immediately cast the flowers aside and wrapped his arms around him. "Yes," Yuri murmured, "Yes, you stupid fuck, yes." Otabek chuckled in his ear, and it was the warmest (most relieved) sound Yuri had ever heard. "It's about damn time." Otabek full-on laughed this time, and, catching on to what that must mean, the stadium erupted.
Yuri laughed noiselessly in the uproar and took Otabek's face in his hands, kissing him with tears running down his cheeks and a huge smile on his face -- directly in front of the frantically snapping cameras and completely ignoring the bedlam around them.
After that, they were again forced to pose for millions of pictures, in all of which Yuri boasted a stupid, happy grin that he couldn't have gotten rid of even if he'd been trying. It was like he was floating on a cloud.
When they finally got off the ice, and the smile had yet to show the slightest sign of fading, Yuri waited as Otabek put on his skate guards, watching him and grinning like an idiot. But not so much so that he missed when Yakov had handed Otabek said guards, and a tiny, little box, before disappearing into the throng.
With a huge smile, Otabek (guards secured) knelt down once more before Yuri and cracked the lid of the ring box. Yuri laughed out loud when he saw it, not from mirth, but from sheer, light-headed joy.
The ring was beautiful: it had a yellow diamond in the center, surrounded by smaller ones and its band was of sparkling silver. Yuri, however, barely gave it a second glance, too enthralled by the beautiful specimen presenting it to him to pay it too much attention.
"Thank you," Yuri murmured, watching entranced as Otabek slid the ring onto his finger, before pulling him into an embrace. "Thank you so much," Otabek just smiled and pressed a kiss to Yuri's head.
Later on, Yuri and Otabek were made to sit through thousands of interviews, each reporter asking excitedly about the engagement and only mentioning the Olympics as an afterthought.
"You two definitely stole the show!" One woman exclaimed brightly, "After that, I doubt anyone's minds are on the competition anymore!" She grinned, before turning to Otabek. "How did you feel before proposing? You must've had it all planned out, right?"
Otabek blushed slightly and shook his head. "No, actually," He said and the reporter looked a bit surprised, "I've been thinking about it for years, and I've been looking for the ring for a good eleven months now, but until about an hour ago, I had no idea how I was going to do it."
The reporter laughed, "So it was spontaneous, then? You didn't have a plan as to when to pop the question, but just kind of knew when the moment was right?"
Otabek nodded, "Something like that."
"And what about you, Yuri?" The reporter, asked, turning to him, "How do you feel about it? Is it more or less exciting than winning the Olympics for the second time -- and being the first to accomplish that feat in seventy years?" Her question hung in the air.
Otabek nudged Yuri, who looked up, obviously having been daydreaming in his little engagement wonderland. His gaze found the reporter, who took pity on him and laughed, repeating the question.
"What takes the prize for you today?" She asked again, "Winning the Olympics or getting engaged?"
Yuri blinked. "I don't care," he said, and the reporter looked shocked, "I honestly couldn't care less about winning," he continued, and looked at Otabek with the sappiest of smiles on his face, "I'm getting married -- it doesn't matter to me in the slightest."
Otabek broke into an, if possible, even bigger smile (thoroughly shocking the public with his never-before-seen lack of stoicism) and wrapped is arms around Yuri, giving him an equally lovestruck expression, and kissing him softly as if to say "me too."
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