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Victor has very good central heating -- for one thing, he's Russian, for another, he pays top money for it because his knee is a bitch in the cold -- but Yuri still seems to regard Russia as an iceberg he's forced to live on.
It's not that Victor minds, exactly, looking at Yuri wrapped resentfully into an undershirt, a thermal shirt, a t shirt, one of his sweatshirts from the States with increasingly odd logos on them (BUY SOYLENT, THE NATURAL FOOD), a ratty knitted sweater from an unknown source, one of Victor's nice Aran sweaters, a fuzzy blanket and also Makkachin, who approved of this wholeheartedly. It was just ...
"There's so much sweater, and so little you," says Victor sadly.
One glaring brown eye appears from the depths of the blanket surrounding it, surveys him contemptuously, and then goes back to Yuri's phone. He's even wearing woolly gloves. He's texting someone, presumably Phichit, presumably about how when Yuri spent his tender youth imagining living in a love nest in St Petersburg with Vikor Nikiforov, it never occurred to him that a) St Petersburg was cold by most standards, but especial by the standards of someone raised in a place that saw snow perhaps every two or three years and b) Victor Nikiforov was a genuinely petty competitive needy asshole.
Although Yuri didn't seem to mind that part.
Victor looks at Makkchin. Makkachin opens one lazy eye and silently dares him to take the good spot on Yuri's lap.
Victor's not, like, a monster, so he sighs and climbs over the back of the couch, shoving the unresisting Makkachin and the still grouchy Yuri around so Yuri ends up leaning against Victor's chest and Makkachin is clutched in Yuri's arms.
"If you show up to the rink wearing that much clothes," says Victor, trying to figure out how to get the blanket away from Yuri's head so he can exercise his God-given right to rub his cheek against Yuri's soft hair, "Yurio is never going to let you live it down. You'll get a pallet of those hand warmer things for Christmas."
"I hope so," says Yuri, still resentful.
But he lets Victor worm his hands into the blankets and put his hands on the skin of his stomach, so Victor just silently makes a note to threaten Yurio at next practice.