Yuri doesn't even look that crestfallen for the comment. It does. He knows that. But warm against the flavor of pork and eggs, even Yurio sounds more amused than insulted about that. About Yuri. Making the statement and just jumping straight into a vocabulary lesson about, stricter for focus but still lighter. He looks so pleased, and Yuri knows how that goes.

Knows how proud he was of Victor and Yurio both loving his mother's famous katsudon dish. His favorite.
The number of times they made it, and it warms in that same place, that somehow it's translated here, too.

Not just language. But katsudon. That isn't just katsudon anymore either.
Because it's piroshki, too. A translation of two different places, and people. Together.

"Pi-ros-" He tries, except Yuri moved on to another word and then a threat with a smile. Which was almost distracting. Yurio looking happy. Happy in a way Yuri hasn't ever seen. It's so completely different from the death glare at JJ on the silver box. Or the disgusted yelling at the beginning of these minutes, which feels a million miles away, as he loses the end of that new word.

It's brilliant. This look on him. It changes him, changes everything, and Yuri doesn't try to stop the slightly sideways shift he takes it, when even blushing faintly for forgetting, and even the fact he's talking about bites of food, because stopping is not an option for every reason now. He still tilts to, "Pi-ro-" He feels for it, dragging the vowel too long, but it isn't. He's already lost it. Only the word he know is there, and he instead changes it midword, the second half going higher, "-katsu?"

Half of two worlds, half of two languages, half of two words.

Something he would have bounced harmlessly, fearlessly off Victor.
It's foolish and silly, but he can't help smiling at the warmth in his chest and belly.