On the screen, someone is shilling a sports drink Victor doesn't recognize, but it's all just background noise, when Yuri is still being elusive and amused, even tucked right back here against Victor's chest and stomach. He's half-turned, twisting at the waist to try and see Victor's face, and really Victor would rather take advantage of this new angle to kiss Yuri than to try a pirozhok brought all the way from Moscow ––
But there's this light of anticipation gleaming in Yuri's eyes, and that's not something he sees all that often. It ought to be indulged, shouldn't it?
Yuri teasing. Yuri please and excited. Yuri curled in his lap, pushing his way back there without having to be asked or pulled.
Leaving Victor to smile, bemused but settling back down from the concerned surprise of earlier. "Okay, Yuri." What's wrong with trying it, after all?
It's not going to be quite right, he knows, when he bites into it: the crust is cold and chewy, not hot and fresh and crackly, but there's something else unexpected, that makes him frown as he chews, before he pulls the pirozhok away and peers into it. "This filling is strange."
It's...rice? And pork, with some sort of breading, probably once crispy, now soggy, and ––
"Eh?" His eyes go wide and blinking, and he looks at Yuri with astonishment. "Katsudon?"
Not really, not with the right flavors or textures –– although it was probably closer when it was fresher –– but it is unmistakably a Russian take on Yuri's favorite food. "Where did you get this?"
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On the screen, someone is shilling a sports drink Victor doesn't recognize, but it's all just background noise, when Yuri is still being elusive and amused, even tucked right back here against Victor's chest and stomach. He's half-turned, twisting at the waist to try and see Victor's face, and really Victor would rather take advantage of this new angle to kiss Yuri than to try a pirozhok brought all the way from Moscow ––
But there's this light of anticipation gleaming in Yuri's eyes, and that's not something he sees all that often. It ought to be indulged, shouldn't it?
Yuri teasing. Yuri please and excited. Yuri curled in his lap, pushing his way back there without having to be asked or pulled.
Leaving Victor to smile, bemused but settling back down from the concerned surprise of earlier. "Okay, Yuri." What's wrong with trying it, after all?
It's not going to be quite right, he knows, when he bites into it: the crust is cold and chewy, not hot and fresh and crackly, but there's something else unexpected, that makes him frown as he chews, before he pulls the pirozhok away and peers into it. "This filling is strange."
It's...rice? And pork, with some sort of breading, probably once crispy, now soggy, and ––
"Eh?" His eyes go wide and blinking, and he looks at Yuri with astonishment. "Katsudon?"
Not really, not with the right flavors or textures –– although it was probably closer when it was fresher –– but it is unmistakably a Russian take on Yuri's favorite food. "Where did you get this?"