There's a tug on Yuuri's arm, pulling him in close as ever to bump hips. Victor's grin goes that playful heart shape as he laughs along with Yuuri's squealed protest. He'll stop them at a red light, cars puttering along in front of them on the street as they waited to cross. The Russian skater takes the moment to lean down and kiss Yuuri's forehead, lips buried in black hair a moment. It's an affectionate looking scene, unmistakably.

"You press my buttons without even meaning to, I think! A true natural, my Yuuri,"