A slow flame of delight goes licking itself into life in the center of Yuri's chest and the top of his stomach as Victor seems to slowly head toward unstuck. Victor shifts closer to him, not quite hesitantly, but there's almost something like that to it. Almost enough Yuri thinks he should say something (apologize?), but then Victor's arms are around him, thighs framing his legs, emptying the bag between the two of his hands, over Yuri's lap, while Victor's head settles back on Yuri's shoulder to see over the one and into the other.

Yuri's relieved, a full breath draining out his nose, when it falls into Victor's hands still very much in one piece.

A little worn, but not broken. Victor's question is the same one that had come out of Yuri's own mouth when he first opened the bag full of the not yet named pirozh-katsu, but the comparison really does stop there. From the winter of Moscow, to warm and quiet of Yu-Topia. From the snow and the cemented feet apart, to Victor wrapped right around him, doing this all but through Yuri.

Even the quiet way Yuri says, "Try it."
Solicitous, and not screamed, with swearing.


But he thinks Yurio must have felt some similar spark to the nebulous anticipation making Yuri's heart beat faster.