Victor closes the door behind him, and feels the placid smile that’s been pasted to his face for the last fifteen minutes melt like butter under the sun. He looks at the couch, and the reason for the lecture he just got is there, her tail waving to and fro.
He’s there in three steps, kneeling down to her level. Makkachin tilts his head at him, her ears flopping.
“Mrs. Kuznetsova just ripped me a new one, you know.” Victor holds her snout between his hands. “I thought she was being unfair and blaming on you something her dog did behind her back, but it’s always been you, isn’t it?”
Makkachin sniffs in his general direction, and then tries to lick him.
“Mashka, no. You’re being scolded,” he says. She backs off, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Her bad breath is seriously out of control; he has to find those minty treats Yuuri bought her a few weeks ago while they can’t take her to the vet. “I know Mrs. Kuznetsova doesn’t like you either way, but that’s not an excuse to go around flipping her garbage bins every morning.”
Makkachin wiggles her nose.
“… You couldn’t care less about this, could you?” Victor asks, rubbing behind her ears.
Makkachin woofs, satisfied, and that’s when Victor loses it.
Yuuri comes back from the grocery store to find him still by the now empty couch, sitting on the floor instead of crouching, and laughing his ass off.
“Vitya?” Yuuri asks, leaving the eggs over the counter. Victor wipes his leaking eyes with the back of his hand.
“Oh, Yurusha,” he says. “Welcome home.”
Yuuri crouches beside him, a comforting hand on Victor’s shoulder. “What did I miss now?”
Victor takes a deep breath. Some giggles still manage to escape. “Oh, Mrs. Kuznetsova told me Makkachin is the culprit behind that mess with her garbage bins. You know how kind she is.”
“Oh,” Yuuri blinks. He looks over at Makkachin, who’s trying to destroy an old plastic ball. “So it really wasn’t her dog.”
His lips are already quirking up when he turns back to Victor. “Okay, but that’s not that funny.”
Victor snorts again. “Maybe not,” he concedes. “But you should see Makkachin’s face.”
“… She doesn’t give a fuck about it, does she?”
“Nope,” Victor repeats, and now the two of them are sprawled on the floor, giggling like there’s no tomorrow.
“What did I tell you?” Yuuri says, punching him in the arm. Victor barely feels it. “She only listens when she wants to.”
They look back at her and she looks at them, perfectly unrepentant. It’s enough to trigger a new wave of laughter.
“Oh,” Victor heaves. “We’ll need to find a way to get her away from the garbage bins.”
They stare at each other.
“… Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it again,” Yuuri suggests. “It’s not like Mrs. Kuznetsova isn’t going to suspect foul play if she sees us anywhere near her bins now.”
“Good point, my love. Good point.”