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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ [ hold on one moment .]
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❤︎ what happens when yuri's new prototype snitches on his feelings?
❤︎ yuri isami x gn! reader
❤︎ wc: 3.2k
❤︎ content warning(s): medical talk (highly inaccurate b/c i'm not a doctor)
“So this is the new prototype?”
Jiro holds up what looks like a smartwatch in his hands, the modestly sized accessory now appearing even smaller in between his massive fingers. The all-black screen is impeccably shiny and clean, without even a scratch or a blemish, unearthed only now from its original, pristine white box. The watch doesn’t respond even though Jiro taps at it inquisitively a few times, and instead of fiddling with it any further, he settles on handling it obediently.
Yuri nods proudly at Jiro’s question, and he puffs his chest out proudly before clearing his throat. “Make no mistake, Jiro. It might look unassuming, but this contraption could be my most illustrious machination yet! You have no idea how much time I spent making sure all the details were just the way I had envisioned it to be!”
Jiro waits patiently for Yuri’s speech to come to a plausible lull before adding in, “Mind telling me what exactly it’s supposed to do then?”
“Patience, Kirisaki! I’m getting to it! Greatness cannot be rushed! Perfection cannot be rushed!” Yuri hisses, snapping at his assistant like a bristling cat. Jiro only deadpans at Yuri like he normally would, blinking stoically until Yuri settles down and clears his throat once more.
“What you have in your hands may appear to be nothing more than your run-of-the-mill smartwatch, the kind of quotidien contraption that everyone sports nowadays. But don’t be fooled! Those little things are mere toys in comparison to the precision and prowess of my new magnum opus! A health tracker devised specifically with the physiques of ghouls in mind!” The doctor announces loudly. He dramatically clasps a hand over his heart and lets out a satisfied huff through his nose. He looks so pleased with himself that he may as well have been radiating sparkles in that instant.
“So it is a smartwatch, but for ghouls specifically,” Jiro repeats, glancing down at the machine in his hands.
“Well! While your average smartwatch user may only use their watch for cursory healthkeeping, this watch is meant to be a more refined medical tool. It’s an invasive and fashionable tracker so we can keep records on how ghouls’ bodies change and adapt over time. If I could have my way, I’d have a ghoul keep this watch on them from the very instant they became a ghoul until they drew their last breath, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” Yuri rubs his hands in delight, and Jiro doesn’t have to extend himself too much to know that the Mortkranken captain is already imagining what kind of fruits he’ll reap from his labor. “This is just a prototype after all.”
“Are you planning on distributing it to the ghouls at Darkwick then? If you have someone in mind, I can drop it off tomorrow. Maybe schedule a check-up if I’m visiting them anyway,” the dark-haired candidly remarks.
Yuri purses his lips together and shakes his head. “I only got the approval to develop the one. And for that reason, we must exercise caution in distributing it. I’d never forgive anyone who carelessly broke my one and treasured prototype! Most of the ghouls at Darkwick are always roughing themselves up, which is always a boon to us, but that means they would inevitably end up breaking my precious creation! That’s a risk I simply cannot accept.”
Yuri pauses, and once a hush falls over the room, he claps his hands firmly once. The noise rings out like the crack of a whip, and Yuri turns on his heel to face Jiro. His teal eyes are blown open wide with a newfound passion, and Yuri stands up to his full height with his shoulders thrown out back and points determinedly straight at Jiro.
“Therefore!” He barks excitedly. “Jiro Kirisaki! You will be the first to don this prototype! The very instant that watch is secured to your wrist, it will take meticulous notice of the state of your body. Be honored! Your participation in the makings of this genius invention will undoubtedly push the future of ghoulhood far beyond what was once imaginable!”
Yuri breathes heavily, chest rising and falling as the final words fall from his lips. He looks expectantly at Jiro, and Jiro blinks back at him, said prototype hanging limply from in between his knuckles like he was holding a browning banana peel instead of a ‘genius invention.’ Another silence falls between the two, and Yuri’s triumphant gaze falters slightly when Jiro doesn’t indulge him with an immediate reaction.
“W-Well?” Yuri stammers after a few beats, hoping desperately to dispel some of the awkward atmosphere. “You’re normally rather eager to jump into whatever I’m saying with commentary of your own. Surely you must have something to say? Perhaps… you’ve been overcome with emotion at my sheer talent?”
Jiro blinks deadpan towards Yuri again.
“No. Nothing of that sort.”
Yuri clicks his tongue. He crosses his arms over his chest. “As stingy with your compliments as always.”
Jiro opens his mouth. “I suppose I have one thing…”
The teal-haired boy immediately resumes his expectant sparkle. He sticks his face right in front of Jiro’s, eyes all shimmery like the surface of a sunlit pond. “Yes? Yes? Go ahead, spit it out!”
“I don’t know if I should be the one wearing the watch.” Jiro states, clearly with no intention of indulging Yuri’s wishes of being praised. The dark-haired student gestures vaguely at all of the scars and extraneous wounds on his body. “My condition’s pretty unstable as is, and I run my fair share of hard labor. I might end up banging up the prototype too. I think you should be the one to wear it.”
Yuri’s jaw drops.
“I’m simply saying what I think is best,” Jiro responds, his voice not wavering for even a second. “You need a reliable control group to test your watch. A guy like me isn’t the pinnacle of health. Or of normalcy, for that matter.”
The Mortkranken captain guffaws. Then he turns on his heel, sighing dramatically and shaking his head. “You’re- You’re impossible, Jiro! Fine. Fine! Hand me the watch. I suppose if greatness is intended for my finest brainchild, it should be none other than its creator who brings it to life.”
He extends a hand, and Jiro noncommittally drops the prototype into Yuri’s outstretched palm. Yuri quickly snaps the band around his thin wrist and pushes it securely into place, giving it a few tentative shakes to ensure it’s firmly set in place. Jiro observes as he always does, though when the watch beeps and whirs to life, calibrating itself to Yuri’s measurements, it’s evident that Jiro has nothing to worry about.
“Perfect,” Jiro comments. “You can keep it within your reach and carry out as many reports as you want. Two birds with one stone.”
“Oh hush, you,” Yuri sniffs. “The threshold has been breached, the point of no return crossed! I suppose all we can do now is wait and see. Though do not be fooled, Jiro! I will accept no result other than unquestionable success!”
…
…
…
So it goes.
You’re just here for your check-up. A run of the mill procedure, nothing too special, save for the fact that instead of Jiro swinging by to do his rounds, you’re actually going to the Mortkranken dorm in person. You were still half-asleep when you checked your phone notifications in the morning, barely glossing over the email you got from Yuri stating that Jiro was pulled away at the last minute for something else.
Not that you minded. It’s not like you had anything better to do, and this was a good excuse for you to stretch your legs and get your steps in. It’s not everyday that you get to poke around the elusive dorm, so it’s something new to spice up your day.
“Hello? Anybody home?” You tentatively call out in front of the imposing door. There’s no doorbell that you can discern, only a set of austere wooden doors nestled inside the cathedral-like portal of the Mortkranken dorm, and you debate knocking just to be polite—not that doing so would spare you from Yuri’s snark, but most of the campus has learned that the doctor is mostly bark and no bite.
You reach for the handle, and it gives way easily when you give it a tentative push. It makes sense that the front door would be unlocked if multiple people were supposedly coming and going for their check-ups, so you don’t give it any more thought as you step into the dark hallways. It doesn’t take a genius to find their way to the examination room, and though you’d love to explore the labyrinth that the Mortkranken dorm is if you were given the chance, even you know better than to go sticking your nose into the unmarked doors that were clearly off limits.
Yuri’s busy flipping through some papers and scribbling away at them that he doesn’t even notice when you slip into the examination. Warm, welcoming golden sunlight spills through the big window in the wall, leaving the furniture to cast long shadows across the polished wooden floor. You follow their silhouette to where your doctor for the day is, seated at the main desk.
You clear your throat. “Yuri…? I’m here for my check-up.”
He almost falls out of his seat. He catches himself at the last minute, his delicate hands curling around the edge of the desk to steady himself. He coughs into his fist, pretending like he wasn’t caught entirely off guard, and he opens his mouth to speak when something else cuts him off.
UNNATURAL HEART BEAT. CAUSE: STARTLING.
Yuri flushes so vividly red in a way that you didn’t know was humanly possible. Your jaw drops, and you bristle slightly from where you’re loitering in the doorway. “What… What was that? That wasn’t you, was it?”
“Pay it no attention! It’s an experiment I’m running.” He jerks his chin in the direction of his wrist, and when your eyes travel in the general direction, you notice the smartwatch on his body. It flashes some diagrams and words that you don’t entirely recognize, but you wisely decide it’s better not to prod at the already-humiliated Yuri who’s struggling to keep a placid face.
“So!” He starts again, pushing his papers aside and standing up. He smooths down the creases of his white lab coat, and he adjusts his tie so that not a single hair is out of place. “A check-up, was it? Take a seat over there.”
You obediently pad across the floor and hop onto the medical table that Yuri gestures at. The thin paper covering it crinkles under you, and you try to stay as still as you can. Yuri clips a handful of papers onto a clipboard before stepping over to where you are. He seats himself down on a black stool and wheels himself so that he’s facing you a few feet away.
The first thing he does is pepper you with some standard questions. You answer with a practiced tedium: your medical record, allergies, medications, the good old administrative background. He records all of your answers with a steady hand, and he soon sets the clipboard aside to move closer to you.
“Everything is the same as our records from last time. Do you have anything you’d like to report as amiss? Any changes you’ve noticed to your body, before I move onto the next part?” There’s a reassuringly professional edge to his voice, and you shake your head. You don’t have anything new to tell him; you’re truly just here because you have to be.
Yuri reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a thermometer. You lean forward to offer up your forehead, and he swallows thickly as he reaches to press the device against your bare skin. It’s nothing new to him either: this is a procedure he could carry out in his sleep, one that’s become so standard that it shouldn’t be special. It isn’t special, and yet, there’s the slightest tremor unbecoming of him in his hands.
Correction: It’s you that’s special, and it’s you that makes him lose his usually unshakable professionalism and feel like a ragdoll being tossed around by a capricious puppetmaster. You’re awfully close, your unassuming eyes blinking at him through your eyelashes, and all of the sudden, Yuri can make out every detail of your face.
He’s seen your face more times than he’d like to admit, sneaking a glance whenever your Darkwick official photo would pop up in his databases or on paper, but it’s one thing to confront your portrait when he’s all alone and another to have you breathing, conscious, in the flesh right in front of him. He can discern every bump and pore on your face, the tempting color of your skin, the soft cadence of your breathing as he does his best to hold the thermometer close enough to get a proper reading…
UNNATURAL HEART BEAT. CAUSE: INFATUATION.
You both jerk back from each other as if splashed by a bucket of ice cold water.
Yuri splutters ungracefully, his face immediately dyed a brilliant crimson red as he kicks back, the wheeled stool carrying him a few feet backwards. Your hands instinctively fly up to your mouth, clamping over your lips firmly so you don’t make any odd noises. You doubt your ears for a second, but the robotic voice had enunciated far too clearly for either of you to have a shadow of a doubt. You heard what it had said, loud and clear. Your eyes tremble as you chance a peek at Yuri.
“I-Ignore it! It’s a prototype,” he fumbles desperately, though you both know it’s futile work to try and recover his cool when the elephant in the room has spilled across the floor like a popped yolk. He hangs his head slightly, and gentle strands of teal hair follow the curve of his cheeks and jaw like a curtain to hide away his face. He refuses to look you in the face as he pretends to pore over the reading on the thermometer. “Your temperature… appears fine. Shall we move on?”
“Wait- wait, wait, wait-,” you cut him off before he can pretend nothing happened. “Earlier… The thing you’re wearing said your heart beat being weird was because I scared you. What did it say just now? Infatuation?”
Yuri bites down on the inside of his cheeks, and he shoves the thermometer back inside of his coat pocket. He makes half of a movement to dismiss you and move on, his hands instinctively reaching for his next tool. Anything to stave off the embarrassment that’s making his heart beat thunder inside his eardrums, his blood roaring in his temples, his distress at having his cool blown so utterly in front of the one person he had never hoped to have his true heart revealed like this to.
“Yuri….” Your words shouldn’t read like condemnation and a blessing at the same time, and yet, he unconsciously finds himself straining to cling to your voice despite dreading what you have to say next.
A flattered smile paints your face. “Yuri, do you have a crush on me?”
“NO!”
His answer comes out too fast: blurted, clipped, desperation washed all over the single syllable word. His heart is out in the open, and it’s too late for him to take it back and pretend nothing’s happened when he’s shown his cards with how frantic he sounds. Fear flushes all of his features, from his shaking eyes to the pink that crawls up his pale neck and face. Yuri feels trapped, hung out high to dry like wet laundry, and your hungry gaze makes him feel like a helpless mouse in the maw of a starved cat.
It scares him.
It excites him.
UNNATURAL HEART BEAT. CAUSE: INFATUATION. USER IS EXPERIENCING HIGH LEVELS DOPAMINE, CORTISOL, AND SEROTONIN.
There’s your confirmation. You’re emboldened, maybe a bit too much than you normally should be, especially when it comes to someone as skittish as Yuri, but this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Yuri keeps high walls around his tender heart, and if you don’t capitalize on this now, you won't ever be able to.
“I don’t know, Yuri…,” you breathe. Your voice is so quiet, and if it weren’t so obviously teasing, it might almost sound reverent to his ears. You lift a hand, and slowly, so slowly, like you’re approaching a frightened wild animal rather than the proud Mortkranken captain, you reach out to touch his face.
Yuri visibly shivers, goosebumps breaking out all over his body. He knows what he should do. He should slap your hand away. He should bark at you for touching him. He should kick you out immediately and spend time alone licking his wounds.
But he can’t. Not when your touch feels so right, feels so good, feels so soothing when you yourself are the very antithesis to the idea of comfort. You push some of his hair out of his face, and there’s nothing left to hide his conflicted face from you anymore.
“I’m not a doctor, but this affliction looks pretty serious.” Your smile is like the edges of a serrated blade. He weakly thinks it might be cutting into his defenseless flesh and making him bleed out, heart spilling through the gashes. He wants more. He’s a prisoner to his own mind and body, his inexplicable desire for you at constant odds with the more logical parts of his mind.
You coo lovingly at him, “Look at you. You’re sweating, Yuri.”
“I-,” he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. Nothing feels right in his mind. No medical textbook taught him what he’s supposed to do to fix this. No laboratory procedure taught him what he’s supposed to do to make this better. No training taught him what he’s supposed to do to salvage whatever mess he’s gotten himself into.
No. There’s no salvaging this. He can’t think, not when you’re this close, not when you’re touching him, not when everything—from his body language to the prototype monitoring every minute change inside him—is so keen on betraying the emotions he could never reveal on his own terms to you.
You understand. He might be going out of the frying pan and straight into the fire, but he has no choice but to take the leap of faith. That’s what your touch, your eyes, your proximity is telling him.
“It’s okay,” you say. Your fingers move from his hair to his face, and he melts when you cup his cheek. No one’s touched him like this in forever. It feels weird. It feels foreign. It feels like a slice of heaven.
You’re ready to take the killshot. To turn the tables, between patient and doctor, outside to in, from thinly veiled lies to the truth. You rub your thumb over the apple of his cheek, his skin hot and clammy. Perfect to be doted upon.
“This ‘sickness’ of yours…,” you start tentatively. You watch with the eyes of a hawk as he lifts his weak gaze, his eyes searching for yours. He feels ravenous when you grin at him, lips moving.“Why don’t you let me help you find a cure?”
Inside Romeo’s hands is a little delicate box, meant specifically for you.
It’s covered with sheer gold wrapping paper, the material thin and delicate and clearly not the kind of cheap decoration anyone could pick up at a nearby craft store. A masterfully tied translucent chiffon ribbon keeps the box shut, and the whole thing twinkles encaged inside Romeo’s pale fingers like a prized songbird resting inside its gilded cage.
“It’s expensive,” he sniffs as he hands the box over to you. It feels wrong in your bumbling hands, and you grip onto the box with just enough pressure to keep your hands from trembling visibly. Not that it’s convincing enough to pass by Romeo’s radar: he narrows his eyes and leers at you as if silently warning you to get your act together. “They’re truffle chocolates. Imported all the way from Italy. So don’t you dare think about scarfing them down like they’re nothing!”
In contrast to the sleek gift you’ve been given, the box that houses your Valentine’s Day gift for Romeo seems incredibly plain in comparison. You know better than to even daydream about buying the kind of expensive treats he must be used to receiving—or just straight up eating—regularly; your wallet would implode at the mere thought.
Your box is wrapped with plain stock paper you picked up from the convenience store. You had taken a few hours out of the days leading up to Valentine’s Day to painstakingly fill the paper with drawings. Drawings of Romeo, at his coolest, his cutest, the things he did to make you feel as lovestruck as you do… Then you scribbled in lots of lovey-dovey doodles. Multi-colored hearts, looking up translations for “I love you” in various languages and then doing your best to replicate that onto the blank paper, sneaking in a cheesy pick up line or two whenever you felt particularly brave…
“My gift isn’t as impressive…,” you sheepishly trail off, scratching the back of your neck as if you’re a child getting scolded instead of someone doing their best to carry out a romantic gesture to someone they love. “But I promise it’s filled with lots of love! They’re homemade chocolates… They’re probably not very pretty, and I honestly don’t know if they’d taste good to you, but…”
A timid silence falls between the two of you. A few seconds pass, and Romeo responds with a sniff and a long sigh.
“BB! You have a long way to go before you’ll get anyone’s attention, let alone mine.” He clicks his tongue, and that’s your cue to quit evading his gaze and look at him dead on. His handsome face is turned into its usual sneer, but his usual vitriol lacks its typical sting. Maybe you’re misconstruing his expression, but even his narrowed eyes are warm around their sharp edges.
“What are you gawking at me for? Hurry and come along instead of staring like a dumbass!” He snaps, nose turned up high as you scramble to follow after him. “It’s only right I try your gift if you’ve gone through all this trouble to make something from scratch… And you better try my present too!”
⋆˙⟡♡ YURI'S ROMANCE: UNTOLD !
“Valentine’s Day?!”
Yuri’s screech is so loud that you swear you can see the window panels of his lab tremble in their place. You do your best not to flinch visibly, not wanting to scare off the flighty doctor by showing even a chink of weakness.
“Mhm. It’s Valentine’s Day. And I want to celebrate with you,” you offer up meekly, flashing him what you hope is an endearing smile. “Don’t tell me you’re too caught up with your… uh- doctoral activities that you can’t celebrate?”
He stares at you, eyes widening until you can make out your reflection in his irises. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. You definitely caught him off guard.
Yuri splutters audibly, barely clearing his throat with a hearty cough. He straightens his face out the best he can, though if you look closely, a light coat of pink dusts the apples of his cheeks. “Valentine’s Day… That’s when lovers share the day together and give each other gifts, isn’t it? Spending time with people you care about is said to increase oxytocin levels, which is plenty beneficial for your health…”
He rubs his chin, going from being hyperaware of your presence to mumbling under his breath as if you weren’t even there. “Its effect would be interesting to test upon ghouls… If flooding oxytocin into a ghoul at large proportions could boost their potential…”
You sidle up to him, and you wrap your arm teasing around his. He nearly lets out a shriek as if you’re a ghost instead of a flesh and blood person. “If that’s the case… You’re a ghoul, aren’t you, Yuri? To stay in theme with Valentine’s Day, why don’t we spend the day together and see what happens to you?”
“WH- WH- What are you trying to imply????” He shrieks, nearly jumping into the air from the unexpected contact. “A-Are you saying we’re lovers? And that… that you want to spend time with me? Voluntarily? And make ME the guinea pig?”
You tilt your head to the side, and you keep your grip on him firm so that he doesn’t wiggle away from you and run off to Jiro screaming his head off. You pretend to think, “Yes to all of the above…? If running an experiment is what it takes to get you to go out on a Valentine’s Day date with me, then so be it. I want to spend time with you.”
Yuri makes a noise between a gasp and a choking sound, and he abruptly turns his face away from you, unable to look at you in the face. “...Very well then! But only because this is for the furthering of science! Your job is to make sure to provide me with plenty of oxytocin, you hear me?”
“I hear you, I hear you.” You grin, resisting the urge to reach over and pinch his cheek. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
Inside Romeo’s hands is a little delicate box, meant specifically for you.
It’s covered with sheer gold wrapping paper, the material thin and delicate and clearly not the kind of cheap decoration anyone could pick up at a nearby craft store. A masterfully tied translucent chiffon ribbon keeps the box shut, and the whole thing twinkles encaged inside Romeo’s pale fingers like a prized songbird resting inside its gilded cage.
“It’s expensive,” he sniffs as he hands the box over to you. It feels wrong in your bumbling hands, and you grip onto the box with just enough pressure to keep your hands from trembling visibly. Not that it’s convincing enough to pass by Romeo’s radar: he narrows his eyes and leers at you as if silently warning you to get your act together. “They’re truffle chocolates. Imported all the way from Italy. So don’t you dare think about scarfing them down like they’re nothing!”
In contrast to the sleek gift you’ve been given, the box that houses your Valentine’s Day gift for Romeo seems incredibly plain in comparison. You know better than to even daydream about buying the kind of expensive treats he must be used to receiving—or just straight up eating—regularly; your wallet would implode at the mere thought.
Your box is wrapped with plain stock paper you picked up from the convenience store. You had taken a few hours out of the days leading up to Valentine’s Day to painstakingly fill the paper with drawings. Drawings of Romeo, at his coolest, his cutest, the things he did to make you feel as lovestruck as you do… Then you scribbled in lots of lovey-dovey doodles. Multi-colored hearts, looking up translations for “I love you” in various languages and then doing your best to replicate that onto the blank paper, sneaking in a cheesy pick up line or two whenever you felt particularly brave…
“My gift isn’t as impressive…,” you sheepishly trail off, scratching the back of your neck as if you’re a child getting scolded instead of someone doing their best to carry out a romantic gesture to someone they love. “But I promise it’s filled with lots of love! They’re homemade chocolates… They’re probably not very pretty, and I honestly don’t know if they’d taste good to you, but…”
A timid silence falls between the two of you. A few seconds pass, and Romeo responds with a sniff and a long sigh.
“BB! You have a long way to go before you’ll get anyone’s attention, let alone mine.” He clicks his tongue, and that’s your cue to quit evading his gaze and look at him dead on. His handsome face is turned into its usual sneer, but his usual vitriol lacks its typical sting. Maybe you’re misconstruing his expression, but even his narrowed eyes are warm around their sharp edges.
“What are you gawking at me for? Hurry and come along instead of staring like a dumbass!” He snaps, nose turned up high as you scramble to follow after him. “It’s only right I try your gift if you’ve gone through all this trouble to make something from scratch… And you better try my present too!”
⋆˙⟡♡ YURI'S ROMANCE: UNTOLD !
“Valentine’s Day?!”
Yuri’s screech is so loud that you swear you can see the window panels of his lab tremble in their place. You do your best not to flinch visibly, not wanting to scare off the flighty doctor by showing even a chink of weakness.
“Mhm. It’s Valentine’s Day. And I want to celebrate with you,” you offer up meekly, flashing him what you hope is an endearing smile. “Don’t tell me you’re too caught up with your… uh- doctoral activities that you can’t celebrate?”
He stares at you, eyes widening until you can make out your reflection in his irises. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. You definitely caught him off guard.
Yuri splutters audibly, barely clearing his throat with a hearty cough. He straightens his face out the best he can, though if you look closely, a light coat of pink dusts the apples of his cheeks. “Valentine’s Day… That’s when lovers share the day together and give each other gifts, isn’t it? Spending time with people you care about is said to increase oxytocin levels, which is plenty beneficial for your health…”
He rubs his chin, going from being hyperaware of your presence to mumbling under his breath as if you weren’t even there. “Its effect would be interesting to test upon ghouls… If flooding oxytocin into a ghoul at large proportions could boost their potential…”
You sidle up to him, and you wrap your arm teasing around his. He nearly lets out a shriek as if you’re a ghost instead of a flesh and blood person. “If that’s the case… You’re a ghoul, aren’t you, Yuri? To stay in theme with Valentine’s Day, why don’t we spend the day together and see what happens to you?”
“WH- WH- What are you trying to imply????” He shrieks, nearly jumping into the air from the unexpected contact. “A-Are you saying we’re lovers? And that… that you want to spend time with me? Voluntarily? And make ME the guinea pig?”
You tilt your head to the side, and you keep your grip on him firm so that he doesn’t wiggle away from you and run off to Jiro screaming his head off. You pretend to think, “Yes to all of the above…? If running an experiment is what it takes to get you to go out on a Valentine’s Day date with me, then so be it. I want to spend time with you.”
Yuri makes a noise between a gasp and a choking sound, and he abruptly turns his face away from you, unable to look at you in the face. “...Very well then! But only because this is for the furthering of science! Your job is to make sure to provide me with plenty of oxytocin, you hear me?”
“I hear you, I hear you.” You grin, resisting the urge to reach over and pinch his cheek. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
