Russia's gaze weighs heavy, follows the curve of Canada's cheek, the gentle profile of his face as he watches the road and the soft tumble of his gold hair about his face. There's something precious here and it sparks warmth in his chest, heart fluttering against the cage of his ribs as he realizes that hey, this is nice. And when Canada's hand finds his--oh, he smiles something soft and warm and brings their joined hands up to his lips, presses kisses to the ridge of knuckles and breathes his laugh over skin.

"You're warm." It's calmly stated, nothing that speaks about revelations really, but it's true. So Russia hums and presses his cheek against the bridge of their twined fingers, lets his gaze flicker over Canada. He'll let him pull away when he needs to, but for now it's actually a rather gentle moment despite the need from a few minutes ago, and though he can still feel his arousal curling in his gut, Russia's fine with this. Sometimes it's better to drag things out after all, to savor them and dwell within the moment.