Yuri twists to look at him, with that expression –– that pert expression, one Victor's unused to seeing on his face, and it's as surprising as anything else. Yuri teasing him.
Not that he hasn't seen it before, Yuri pert and amused. Yuri has certainly teased him plenty of times, about everything from his excitement about trying something new to getting a word or term in Japanese laughably wrong to this, now. Victor like a fish flopping on land, trying to figure out how to move and talk and think like he normally does.
But Yuri's settled now, and that's beginning to settle him, too. There's no evidence that Yuri's about to run back off again, or even move anywhere else. He'd come right back here, hadn't he? Back to Victor's lap. Back to the circle of his legs and arms. Allowing Victor to carefully, cautiously, lean back towards him, legs shifting closer, arms enclosing so he can roll the bag open between two hands. It has the added benefit of curling him back around Yuri, chin going back to Yuri's shoulder, as Victor tips the bag's contents into one hand, pausing with bemusement before crumpling the brown paper. "Pirozhok?"
That's what this is, isn't it? Small but hefty, a gloss of egg wash and the scent of yeast, and there's no reason for Yuri to have brought this back, is there? "Why did you give me this?"
Why not eat it on the way back? Unless he thought Victor might want it, a small token of Russia to have now that he's left again, but Victor has never mentioned pirozhki as one of his particular favorites.
He's so bewildered he doesn't even notice when the pairs on the screen finishes and the livestream breaks for a commercial.
no subject
Yuri twists to look at him, with that expression –– that pert expression, one Victor's unused to seeing on his face, and it's as surprising as anything else. Yuri teasing him.
Not that he hasn't seen it before, Yuri pert and amused. Yuri has certainly teased him plenty of times, about everything from his excitement about trying something new to getting a word or term in Japanese laughably wrong to this, now. Victor like a fish flopping on land, trying to figure out how to move and talk and think like he normally does.
But Yuri's settled now, and that's beginning to settle him, too. There's no evidence that Yuri's about to run back off again, or even move anywhere else. He'd come right back here, hadn't he? Back to Victor's lap. Back to the circle of his legs and arms. Allowing Victor to carefully, cautiously, lean back towards him, legs shifting closer, arms enclosing so he can roll the bag open between two hands. It has the added benefit of curling him back around Yuri, chin going back to Yuri's shoulder, as Victor tips the bag's contents into one hand, pausing with bemusement before crumpling the brown paper. "Pirozhok?"
That's what this is, isn't it? Small but hefty, a gloss of egg wash and the scent of yeast, and there's no reason for Yuri to have brought this back, is there? "Why did you give me this?"
Why not eat it on the way back? Unless he thought Victor might want it, a small token of Russia to have now that he's left again, but Victor has never mentioned pirozhki as one of his particular favorites.
He's so bewildered he doesn't even notice when the pairs on the screen finishes and the livestream breaks for a commercial.