He's still not entirely certain about this latest choice still (too big, too reaching, too something, something, something else, twists his stomach, selfconciously) and in that his cheeks are a pinkening at the top, but in not helping that, so is the strange amusement that starts cluttering up at the top of his chest, pressing warmth into his face in a completely different way.
When Victor can't seem to get to the end of a question -- but hasn't put a hand on Yuri's arm or his shoulder to stop him, which might mean this is okay (even if he, also, isn't touching Yuri now ... which might mean it isn't? ) -- and his stricken confusion has turned into something more like befuddlement.
Yuri can't even explain to himself how when he feels his mouth curve into a smile more than feels like he chooses it. He turns a little more in this position, when -- there's really not room to is there? But he still turns the upper part of his body so he can look at Victor's face and the way he's frozen, holding the bag and staring at Yuri.
Victor rarely looks this confused or surprised about anything. He can't help the slippery feeling of something like accomplishment flopping in and out of himself. There's a nearly affectionate side tip of Yuri's head, looking from Victor to the bag and back to Victor. It's something almost amusingly brushing the ghost of shy fingertips between both logic and teasing when Yuri says the obvious. "You'd know if you open it."
Hoping Victor likes it. Hoping it's still good. Hoping it made it. Fretting whether he should have taken a second to check in the bedroom.
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He's still not entirely certain about this latest choice still (too big, too reaching, too something, something, something else, twists his stomach, selfconciously) and in that his cheeks are a pinkening at the top, but in not helping that, so is the strange amusement that starts cluttering up at the top of his chest, pressing warmth into his face in a completely different way.
When Victor can't seem to get to the end of a question -- but hasn't put a hand on Yuri's arm or his shoulder to stop him, which might mean this is okay (even if he, also, isn't touching Yuri now ... which might mean it isn't? ) -- and his stricken confusion has turned into something more like befuddlement.
Yuri can't even explain to himself how when he feels his mouth curve into a smile more than feels like he chooses it. He turns a little more in this position, when -- there's really not room to is there? But he still turns the upper part of his body so he can look at Victor's face and the way he's frozen, holding the bag and staring at Yuri.
Victor rarely looks this confused or surprised about anything. He can't help the slippery feeling of something like accomplishment flopping in and out of himself. There's a nearly affectionate side tip of Yuri's head, looking from Victor to the bag and back to Victor. It's something almost amusingly brushing the ghost of shy fingertips between both logic and teasing when Yuri says the obvious. "You'd know if you open it."
Hoping Victor likes it. Hoping it's still good. Hoping it made it.
Fretting whether he should have taken a second to check in the bedroom.