Titolo: Questo senso di festa che vola e che va
Fandom: Yuri!!! On Ice
Personaggi: Sara & Michele Crispino, Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin
Genere: commedia, romantico
Avvertimenti: in inglese, pwp, future fic
Parole: 998
Note: per il COW-T, M3, prompt "estate", e per un prompt su fb, della @phoenix_bellamy :3

"This place stinks of piss," Yuri comments, lapidary, as soon as he puts his foot down after their boat shipped them across the lagoon. "And it's hot as balls. Beka, why did we come here again?"
He looks around at the mass of people crowding the western side of the Canal Grande - some flapping their fans, others eyeing the water with desire, others gulping water down. All of them moving with impatient and heated puffs under the cruel, boiling Italian summer sun while breathing in incredibly humid air.
"Our friends invited us," Otabek reminds him, gaining a look of impatience.
"It was a rhetorical question," Yuri argues.
"Oi! Yuri! Otabek!" A familiar voice interrupts them, while Yuri scrunches up his nose muttering again about the unpleasant smell coming up from the water. Otabek looks around, wearing his cool sunglasses and hoping not to be recognized by anyone who cares for figure skating. It would be a shame if fans were to show up and crowd around Yuri when he's specifically on a vacation after winning his umpteenth gold.
Sara trots towards them with a bright, wide smile, wearing a big straw hat and light clothes that show a lot of her skin. Behind her, eyeing everyone surrounding them with the eye of an angry eagle for anyone who might approach her, is Michele, who immediately relaxes as soon as he sees Otabek and Yuri.
"Welcome," Michele says, patting Otabek's shoulder and winking at Yuri. "Did you just get here?"
"Yeah," Yuri replies, with a yawn. "We just got off the plane and took a look around."
"Well, what do you think about Venice?" Sara asks, with a bright smile.
It takes Yuri a few seconds to reply, as he looks around again.
"It's okay. A bit too many people," he says. "And it's too hot."
"Oh, right! Did you put some sunscreen on?" She continues, looking at Yuri's naked arms that reflect sunlight so violently it looks like he's glowing, and among the city's greys and blues he ends up gaining passerbys' attention with how his complexion hits the eye.
"I told you we should've invited them in winter," Michele tells Sara, shaking his head. "Now they'll get sunstroke."
"Oh, nonsense! As long as you put sunscreen on and drink lots of water and don't stay under the sun too much..."

A couple of hours later, they are all sitting in a bar after walking around the city and getting lost twice among the calli, drinking fruit juice and chattering, until Yuri looks down at his arms and clears his throat.
"Hey, is it normal that my skin prickles? And doesn't it look a bit red?"
The others immediately look at him interrupting their conversations, and Sara's eyes go wide.
"Oh, no..." She murmurs, while Michele gives her an 'I told you so' look. "Well, it seems you got a bit sunburnt?"
"'A bit'? He's purple," Michele points out, pressing a fingertip against Yuri's skin and leaving a pale trace on it, which takes a couple of seconds to turn red again. "Yuri, I'm sorry... you should put some hydrating cream on your skin and hope you won't wake up screaming tonight," he adds, turning to look at the other two.
Yuri stares at him, then looks at Sara who seems to be cringing with the thought of dealing with sunburnt skin.
"Why, does it hurt a lot?" He asks, poking softly at his skin and looking the traces of his fingers linger on it again.
"Well, I wouldn't know, our skin is pretty dark to begin with but we've got mozzarella friends here and- yeah, apparently it hurts a lot," Michele confirms, with a sigh. "Blame her, she came up with the idea," he continues, pointing with his thumb towards Sara.
"Michi, fuck off. Well, it's a good thing you're not in your swimsuit! It's only your arms and neck and face..." She says, with a comically tense smile.
Michele looks at her and shakes his head, before gently placing a hand on Otabek's arm. "Take care of him," he says, squeezing a bit.
"Sure," Otabek replies, before touching Yuri's arm as well. "Wow, it's hot. We should go back to the hotel."
Sara and Michele sigh, looking at one another.

"So how is your vacation in Venice going?" Viktor asks over the phone, in the evening, while Otabek diligently applies generous quantities of cream on Yuri's arms, shoulders, neck and very angry face.
"It's all good," he hisses through his teeth, while Otabek stands, going to lean against the parapet outside. "It's nice. Lots of Americans."
"You sound bothered," Viktor notices, with an easy tone. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine!" Yuri barks all of a sudden when a particular spike of pain burns on his skin, and hangs up right away.
"The city looks nice from here," Otabek hums, looking at the blue sky that turns to an evening color, while the first lights begin turning on.
"Yeah. It's nice," Yuri finds himself saying while also leaning against the fresh metal and sighing. And then he hears a sound he doesn't get to hear often - Otabek is giggling.
"You're so purple."
Yuri glares at him, but aside from pouting he does nothing much, just mutters about the goddamn Italian sun.
"I'll never listen to you when you tell me to accept an invitation," he says then, glancing over at Otabek who's grinning. Or, well, Otabek's version of grinning, anyway. "And I hate you."
"Now you know that's not true," Otabek teases, giving him a gentle smile.
Yuri puffs air out, with a frown, resuming his muttering about his skin aching and how much he would've preferred to stay home, in Russia.
But as soon as he scrolls through the silly pictures he took with Beka, Sara and Michele today, he smiles despite himself. It seems incredible, thinking back, that now he's got friends. It's a good feeling, one it's worth holding on tight to.