Makkachin was a good dog.

She was currently sprawled out over most of the couch. Her owner, Viktor, sat in the little remaining space, his hand running through her fur.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Makkachin," Yuuri said. "Move over."

Makkachin stayed put.

Yuuri glared at Viktor.

"You spoil her too much."

Viktor only chuckled.

"Why don't you sit on my lap instead," he suggested.

Yuuri shook his head, but complied, climbing into Viktor's lap. Makkachin watched as Yuuri rested his head against Viktor's chest.

Makkachin began to wag her tail.

She was a very good dog indeed.