Victor had woken up early to toss Makkachin out. He couldn't have the dog under foot because while he was a good cook he wasn't the best baker. Yuuri's mother had left a detailed recipe but..

Well.

He looks up from the bowl he was whisking, flour on his face. His hair was pinned back with barrettes and the apron around his waist was a folded pink one from a small Japanese woman.

"Yuuri! You're awake! I didn't expect you awake this early!"