This, as far as Wolfram was concerned, called for a cuddle. He tightened the grip of his arm around Yuuri's waist, leaning closer. His fiancé's hair was tickling his nose. It smelled vaguely herbal. Wolfram caught himself trying to lean closer and identify the scent, and carefully scooted about an inch and a half further away. There. That was the necessary Yuuri-personal-space.

...Or, at least, it was all that Yuuri really seemed to need at the moment.