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Honestly, they should have seen it coming. They should have known how dedicated fans can be, and Yuri Plisetsky's fans weren't an exaggeration.
Viktor and Yuri were both prepared and had their mail closed off. Viktor had his closed off from his second gold medal win and Yuri had his closed from when he went home to find his grandfather unable to come up to their house because piles of boxes were blocking their driveway.
So it shouldn't have been that much of a shock to find half of Viktor's penthouse be stocked with piles and piles of boxes. From at first glance it might have been mistaken for Viktor's own questionable amazon purchases but from the looks of the stamps, it seems that they were resent from various parts of the world, most of it being Japan.
"Viktor? Were you expecting anything from the post office?" Yuuri sluggishly took off his back pack and set it down near the threshold. He greeted Makkachin with a pat, and yawned as he flopped face first on the couch, forgetting he was wearing glasses, he whined as he felt them dig into his face. He took them off and then mushed his face properly in the cushions.
"Hmm? .. I don't think so?" Viktor emerged from the kitchen holding mugs of what Yuuri could smell as hot cocoa.
"Is that for me?" Yuuri smiled contentedly as he sat up and took the cup from Viktor. The older leaning close to place a kiss at the side of Yuuri's head before sitting next to Yuuri on the couch and taking a sip from his mug to hide his own smile. It was only then he caught sight of the piles of boxes near the door.
"Yuuri?"
"Hmm.." Yuuri was busy drinking from his mug of chocolate-y goodness to notice Viktor leaving his side to look at the boxes more closely.
"It seems that these are all addressed to you, Yuuri" Viktor said, placing his mug to the side and picking up a small and light brown box. It looked dented on one side and the tape had loosened so he tore it open.
Yuuri opened his eyes at the sound, his vision blurry. He could make out a blurry figure standing next to him with something red in his hands. Alarmed, Yuuri put down his mug and put on his glasses to see, Viktor holding a huge pair of-
"Are those.. oven mitts?" Yuuri asked, bewildered and relieved, his mind thought of something more sinister for just a moment there.
"I don't know.. these look odd?" It did look odd. The mitt had two holes instead of one, and it came with two normal sized mitts.
"Does it have a note? Who sent it?" Yuuri asked, and Viktor handed the surprisingly soft fabric to Yuuri.
"It doesn't say who it's from, just 'please use it well!'" Viktor put down the note and looked at Yuuri who seemed to be staring at the big oven mitt. His ears are red.
"Yuuri?" Viktor asked as Yuuri took his hand silently and slowly put it inside the mitt. Then Yuuri put his own hand inside the other hole and clasped Viktor's hand inside.
Oh.
So thats what it was.
Viktor's own face felt warmer and he clasped his hand tighter on Yuuri's inside the mitten. Their hands were beginning to warm inside it. Viktor looked up to see Yuuri's other hand trying to cover Yuuri's rapidly reddening face.
"Yuuri-"
"No."
"Yuuri~" Viktor was now grinning from ear to ear, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
"But imagine the look on Yakov's face when we wear this at practice tomorrow!" Viktor sat beside Yuuri wound his free hand on Yuuri's shoulders. Their joined hands resting on Yuuri's lap.
"We're not wearing them to practice Viktor" Yuuri's voice muffled on Viktor's neck but it was filled with suppressed laughter.
"Hmm..." Viktor lovingly pressed a soft kiss at the base of Yuuri's neck, his longer hair brushing against his lips. "Can we at least pretend to wear them in front of Yurio tomorrow?" Viktor asked and sighed as he felt Yuuri's hand hugging him closer, Viktor followed down as Yuuri leaned backwards so they were both lying on the couch together.
"Only if you promise to let me add another quad in my program." Yuuri said slyly, a smirk on his lips as his blush was slowly receding.
"Oh?~" Viktor turned his on Yuuri's shoulder and Viktor's eyes glinted, his voice lowering to a few octaves. Before they could do anything further, Makkachin let out a bark and they both turned their heads just in time to see the dog pull a box at the base of the pile and watch helplessly from the couch as it tipped over and spilled all over the floor.