Adorable

A/N: Good Lord, this took forever. Then, there was the need for sending it to a Beta. Thank you, Bry…for going over this last chapter. Now, lemme get started. Keep in mind, guys, that this is the last chapter. So if you look at it and say, “Man, that’s long”, just remember that there’s no more. Hehe…

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Chapter 4: This Very Moment

The light in the room was far too bright when Wolfram’s eyes opened. He winced, wishing that Yuuri had closed the drapes. The thick velvet canopy above the bed swayed slightly, and for a brief moment, he wondered why. Still blinking in the bright sunlight, Wolfram sat up, finding the bed empty of its other occupant, but well slept-in. A smile pulled at his mouth when he spied a note left on Yuuri’s pillow. His hand reached out of its own volition, and plucked the crisp ivory parchment from the wrinkled linens.

Wolfram,

I hope you are feeling better. Please do not get out of bed until I return. When I do, we’ll get you cleaned up and have a soak in the bath. Try to rest.

Love,

Yuuri

The smile that had started small turned into an outright grin as he read the final words of this short note, a strange and fluttery feeling cropping up in his stomach. Any other day, he would have thought something sarcastic, such as his relief that all of the words were spelled correctly. But at this moment, after having witnessed with his own eyes how very much his fiancé cared for him…this note seemed like an affirmation. Wolfram ran a fingertip over Yuuri’s still-clumsy handwriting, feeling the words.

After piling pillows up behind him so that he could lay back in a more upright position, Wolfram stationed himself so that he could make the most of the fresh air coming in from outside, as well as the sun, to which his eyes had by now grown accustomed. The pleasant smells of flowers and the outdoors were drifting in through the window, taking his mind off of the fact that he truly did feel rather sticky. How long had it been since he had a bath?

Wolfram was not even certain how many days he had been sick. His conception of time was skewed, and he did not know how he was going to get back on track. Well, it was daylight now, at least, and he felt fine. It would be nice if he could go and have a bath all by himself, so that when Yuuri came back, he would be surprised. But he could not bring himself to disobey such a request from his fiancé. He would wait, and let Yuuri have his way. Just this once.

--

“And you’re sure that this will ease his sore muscles?” Yuuri asked Günter, who had just handed him a packet of medicinal salts. His chief advisor nodded distractedly. In fact, the violet-eyed man had been so preoccupied this morning; he had not once made an attempt at being overly affectionate. While he welcomed the break from Günter’s usual exuberance, he did find it strange. As Yuuri watched, he slipped into a completely unfocused state, staring out of the window and letting out a small sigh.

It reminded him oddly of the way Gwendel had been acting. Since early morning when he had risen to check on Wolfram’s fever and then gone out for his morning run, he had seen the general three times. Once, he had been playing with the tabby cat that had taken a liking to him some time ago. The second instance happened to be when he’d gone to deliver a small stack of papers he’d signed. Half of them were requisitions for military equipment, and the others were various requests for the intervention of troops. Having made notes on each as to what he thought needed to be done, Yuuri felt that Gwendel was quite capable of carrying out these instructions.

When he had entered the man’s office, he found Gwendel toying with his pen, one finger tracing a path over his cheek absently. Blue eyes snapped back to reality from whatever daydream they had been seeing, and Yuuri had been able to turn the papers over without incident. After that, when he’d gone to tell the cooks what he would like made for his and Wolfram’s breakfast, Gwendel was asking for custard tarts topped with sugared violets.

For a moment, now, Yuuri had watched Günter. Most people thought that the young king was a little slow when it came to realizing certain things. Perhaps that had been true for a time. But that was before he had gained some insight into how these people thought and why they acted the way they did. That was why he took great satisfaction at asking in a very teasing tone, “Do you think that it might work on Gwendel’s headaches?”

In a matter of seconds, several drastic changes had presented themselves in Günter’s appearance. His mouth fell open, and he turned toward Yuuri with eyes that were impossibly wide. A flush of pink had begun to rise in the man’s cheeks, and he stammered, “I…I don’t know, Your Majesty.”

With a mischievous grin, Yuuri leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial. “Maybe you should make some and give it to him…as a present?” The pink in Günter’s face turned scarlet and began to spread, and he tried to stammer some kind of protest. Yuuri held up a hand, silencing him. “Günter, I believe that you might find something sweet outside your door. I wonder who might have put it there?”

The way that choking sound came from the advisor’s throat before he bolted for the door was highly amusing, but it was nothing to the look in Günter’s eyes when he carried a tray into the room, holding it as gingerly as if it contained some fragile and treasured heirloom. Sitting in the middle of the plain mahogany wood was a small arrangement of three custard tarts, sugared violets perched delicately atop each. “Your Majesty,” Günter said as he slid the tray onto the surface of the already cluttered table, his voice sounding rather far away. It seemed as if the man was going to burst into tears at any moment. Indeed, when he raised his eyes from the sweet treats, they were shining with happiness and tears.

“Are you well, Günter?” Yuuri asked, knowing that he was, but wanting to hear it all the same.

“Oh, yes,” the taller man said vehemently, “it’s just…I did not think that he would remember.” This cryptic remark was enough to throw Yuuri for a loop. Perhaps in the past, Gwendel and Günter had been friends, and the tarts had been one of the lavender-haired man’s favorites? Yuuri was suddenly crushed to the man’s chest, so tightly that he barely heard it when Günter murmured that all might not be lost.

It took a lot for Yuuri not to snort. He pushed away from Günter, and said in a wry tone, “Of course it isn’t.” When purple eyes widened, he patted the taller man’s shoulder. In a much kinder voice, he explained, “Just go and thank him for the sweets, Günter, and do not question me on this. I’m sure he would not mind the intrusion.” And just like that, Günter was off like a shot, swiftly picking up the tray on his way out of the door and tossing an apology to him over one shoulder as he sprinted away down the hall. For a long moment, Yuuri was unsure if he had done the right thing. It was not that he did not think both Günter and Gwendel deserved the happiness that would ultimately result from Günter’s overly enthusiastic reaction to the general’s attempted anonymous gift…but it was what would occur between now and that eventual bliss.

If he knew Gwendel at all, the man would try to fend Günter off for as long as possible. In a way, it reminded him much of himself. Yuuri had many times put off the extreme violence of Wolfram’s possessive nature, even though he knew full well how badly it hurt the other boy. But some time during the night, while watching his fiancé sleep, he decided that it was not worth it any more. Because the one thing that frightened him more than anything else had been seeing the absolutely frenzied look in those green eyes as they tearfully begged him not to leave. It had not been scary to know that Wolfram cared for him. He had known that for some time now.

What really frightened Yuuri into a nearly senseless state was that he cared, too. It made him want to shriek like a girl when he thought about the extent of his feelings where Wolfram was concerned. Boys his age weren’t supposed to feel this way, were they? He remembered something about teenagers supposedly never being able to truly love. He recalled the way his brother had had several very short-lived relationships when he was in his teenage years. But then he thought back to that stabbing fear that had gone through him when he emerged back in his own world that day…when he had known he would never see Wolfram again. It had been shoved aside as general anxiety at the time, but now…

He knew the way things were supposed to work. He’d always planned to find a pretty girl, go to the same high school with her, graduate, and maybe even go to college. They would get married, settle down, and have kids. But, things never work out the way you plan for them. At that very moment, he had a child. Greta was somewhere playing with one of the maids, most likely. At that very moment, he was settled down. He had a castle, and an entire kingdom to take care of. And at that very moment, Yuuri had a fiancé that was asleep in his bed. Was that fiancé a girl? No, but he didn’t know that he cared about that so much anymore.

Hefting the packet of medicinal salt in his hand, he made his way out of Günter’s room. His life seemed pretty well complete at that very moment.

--

Gwendel leaned heavily on one arm of his desk chair. He felt…anxious. It had been a very long time since he’d been this distracted. Though he had a mountain of papers to review and sign, the general could not force himself to touch them. And every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was a soft smile and he swore he could hear that gentle, yet somehow still commanding voice in his ear.

“Gwendel?” Yes, it sounded just like that…

Alarmed at how real his hallucination sounded, Gwendel looked around. It was then that he discovered that he was not actually delusional. Whether for better or worse, Günter was standing just inside his door, holding a very familiar tray. This was the very same one that Gwendel had quietly placed outside the advisor’s door nearly an hour earlier. It took a great deal of self-possession to keep behind his lips the curse that threatened to escape. Had one of the maids decided to tell?

After making a mental note to deal quite swiftly with those women, Gwendel cleared his throat. “Yes, Günter?”

There were times when he wanted to toss this man out of a window. Often, he wanted to lock him into a closet until he calmed down. And yet there were still other times when he felt altogether too tempted to simply hold Günter. As he took a tentative step forward, the dark wooden tray almost trembling in a white-knuckled grip, Günter Von Kliest somehow made him want to do just that. Was it the nervous blush spreading over the man’s cheeks, dusting his fair skin with a delicate rose color? Perhaps it was the way Günter’s teeth bit idly at his lower lip. Or, might it be the way those purple eyes had latched onto him, not letting him go?

For whatever reason, Gwendel found himself nearly unable to keep his face studiously calm. One hand gripped the edge of his desk, the other tightened into a fist in his lap as the white-clad man advanced, coming ever nearer to where he sat. Finally, Günter’s teeth loosed his lip, and he asked quietly, “Am I correct in assuming that it is you I have to thank for these?”

Unable to speak, Gwendel merely nodded.

The smile that broke over Günter’s face was radiant, and in the face of such purity, such beauty, he was—for once in his life—completely powerless. “Since that is the case,” Günter set the tray down atop a stack of papers, “I believe that I should thank you.” Abruptly, Gwendel’s heart seemed as if it were unsure whether it needed to speed up or stop altogether. He compelled his throat not to swallow, though it was as dry as a sand pit.

With a graceful flourish, Günter was standing at the left side of his chair, and Gwendel’s body turned automatically to face him. Somehow, he was not gasping for breath as Günter leaned down, though it was unclear as to how he had managed such a feat. He felt every muscle in his body go rigid, as if he were tensing for a heavy blow. Something warm and soft touched his cheek, stroking lightly, and after a fraction of a second, he realized it was the pad of one of Günter’s fingers. That digit slid down to his jaw and around to his chin, pulling upward.

Now, Gwendel’s heart had most certainly decided to pound as if he were in the midst of a fierce battle. A bit of lavender hair tickled his right cheek, and warm breath that smelled of lemon custard drifting lazily over his skin. His mind wandered, briefly thinking of whether Günter had already tasted the tarts on the tray. Other parts of him were being equally traitorous, like his throat, which had just made a very undignified gulping noise. His hands joined the revolt, turning his chair toward Günter as well, and then the final treachery…they came up to grasp the advisor’s face and pull, closing the gap between his lips and those that he could now admit he’d longed to touch.

A small, surprised sound escaped Günter’s mouth before he seemed to give in and simply melt into Gwendel’s lap. Their lips remained pressed against each other in that same way, though every other aspect of the embrace changed. White-clad arms encircled Gwendel’s neck, pulling him close, and his eyes closed, unable to understand the strange sense of peace that unexpectedly came over him. He found it difficult to breathe after a while, and the kiss broke, leaving them both panting.

When he opened his eyes, Gwendel was surprised to find just how beautiful his companion could look. Günter had yet to open his own eyes, and dark lashes were wet with tears, while his lips were tilted upward in a smile that was nothing short of heavenly. “Thank you,” Günter whispered, “Thank you, Gwendel.”

Feeling a nearly uncontrollable urge to feel those lips again, but restraining it just the same, he ran a hand through pale purple hair. “Please,” he heard himself say, “don’t toy with me…” Oh, God, if this was all some kind of trick, or if it was truly merely a ‘thank you’ for the tarts, Gwendel was certain he would need to break something. He had no idea what it was he felt, but if the hot, squirming feeling in his guts was any indication, it was something important.

Günter bent to speak lowly in his ear, “I assure you, Gwendel Von Walde, I am not playing games.” That voice became something that resembled a mix of innocent and devious, “Now…where were we?”

--

Yuuri smiled to himself. It was turning out to be quite a day. Not quite inexplicably, his chief domestic advisor and his chief military advisor had been closeted together since right around mid-morning. The young king was relatively certain that Gwendel and Günter were not talking about foreign policy. His smile grew to an outright grin as he remembered having to shoo the maids away from Gwendel’s office. They were going to be highly disappointed that their two ‘dark horse’ candidates for their ruler’s affections had found happiness elsewhere.

But, it made no difference. After having dealt with several issues—the least of which were his nosy servants—the Maou was now well on his way back to his room. And it was about time, too. First, he’d run into Dorcas, who was all but stumbling under the weight of three suits of armor. He’d helped him bring them to the armory for cleaning, all the while wondering where the rest of the troops were, and why they never seemed to be around when the man needed help. Once the armor was neatly stacked, Yuuri then proceeded to be harassed by several minor lords that had been staying in the guest wing of the palace, and would no longer be put off because of Wolfram’s sickness.

Now, the afternoon shadows had begun to grow long and dark, and he sighed. At least he knew that Wolfram would be exactly where he left him. Turning the corner nearest his bedchamber, he made certain to straighten his jacket, and run a hand through his hair. It was the last thing he wanted for Wolfram to wake up and say that he looked a mess.

The door to his room opened smoothly, and he found Wolfram propped on a mound of pillows, lit orange by the afternoon sun. He was asleep, and yet he still seemed to glow. A silent prayer of thanks flitted across Yuuri’s mind at how Wolfram’s color had returned, and that there was no sweat matting his hair. Günter’s concoction had worked very well, and he was glad for it. Now, all he needed to do was to have the other young man soak in the bath with the salts Günter had given him. Yuuri was certain that his fiancé would feel much better once his muscles were no longer sore.

After walking on tiptoe to the bathroom and dumping the entire packet into the small private bath, he returned to the bedroom. Yuuri closed the large French doors that led out onto the balcony, and drew the heavy drapes. He hoped that the fresh air had done Wolfram some good. When Yuuri approached the bed, he once again studied his fiancé’s face. He recalled how those on the edge of death had been brought back to full health and vigor, simply from seeing Wolfram, and there was little wonder. Yuuri doubted he could ever have found a girl that was more beautiful than the boy he had stumbled upon so long ago. A smile tugged at his lips, and he moved to take the blonde boy from the bed.

The covers slid back easily, and he hooked one arm under Wolfram’s knees, the other maneuvered beneath his shoulders. When he stood, Yuuri was surprised by how light his burden was. “Wolfram,” he said quietly, “it’s time to wake up.” The face that was now resting against his chest moved, rubbing against black fabric before it turned upward to peer owlishly at Yuuri. A sleepy smile spread over Wolfram’s face, and the young king returned it with equal warmth. “Did you sleep well?”

Wolfram nodded, “Yes,” and snuggled into Yuuri’s chest as he began walking to the bathroom. “I read the note you left.”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a little, and he fought to keep his voice even. “Yes?” They cleared the bathroom door, and he gently deposited Wolfram onto the edge of the bath, helping the still-sleepy blonde out of his nightgown.

Bright green eyes blinked up at him for a moment before clearing and acquiring a warmth that he had only really seen there once. “I thought it was…sweet.” That sentence very nearly reduced Yuuri to a mass of goop. It was, after all, very rare for him to earn any praise from his fiancé. “I wanted to clean myself up for you,” Wolfram said, wrinkling his nose at the pink garment that now lay crumpled on the floor, “but you wrote that I should not get out of bed.” Nodding and making an affirmative sound, Yuuri began unbuttoning his jacket. Wolfram instantly tensed. “What are you doing?”

Smiling slightly, Yuuri’s mild reply came, “I’m about to take a bath. The tub’s big enough for six people, Wolfram.” His fiancé began turning red in the face, and he fought to keep his smile small. Honestly, this was fun. When was the last time the Maou had his fiancé on the defensive? Never, really, he mused to himself, which was, of course, what made it so enjoyable.

“But—but—!” Wolfram stammered, only to be interrupted.

Yuuri shook a finger at the still-seated young man, saying in a chiding voice, “Now, now. I can’t just let you bathe yourself. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let my fiancé take care of himself when he’s just gotten over being ill?” The dumbfounded look that fell across the other boy’s face was worth the trouble, but Yuuri had to restrain his laughter when he leaned down, his face close to Wolfram’s, to say, “If you’re very nice, I’ll scrub your back.” Green eyes grew impossibly wide, and now Yuuri did laugh.

“You—you’re teasing me!” Wolfram’s blush deepened, the pink dusting his cheeks turning to a very becoming shade of crimson.

Straightening and gently draping his jacket over the stand in one corner, Yuuri said in his most innocent tone, his back to Wolfram, “What makes you think that?” He could hear growling as Wolfram cursed under his breath, but Yuuri simply continued to undress. His shirt ended up in the laundry basket along with the slacks he had on, and finally, when he was fully disrobed, he walked right past a stammering Wolfram to sink into the bath.

--

Five minutes of arguing and blushing later, Wolfram was seated on the opposite side of the bath, completely ignoring Yuuri’s presence, or at least attempting to do so. How dare he…what in the name of Shinou was that wimp up to now? If he weren’t completely certain that Yuuri would do no such thing, he might think that the situation had been orchestrated so that he’d have the opportunity to take advantage of Wolfram in his…natural state. But that was impossible. Shibuya Yuuri was not the type to do anything of the sort. As much as Wolfram would hate to admit it, his fiancé was a perfect gentleman, with whose conduct he could find no fault.

Yes, there were times when he thought that Yuuri was too friendly with others, but he had recently come to realize that it was simply not in Yuuri’s nature to be mean, or even aloof. He took comfort in the knowledge that his fiancé was a wimp, and would never actually think about being unfaithful. Said wimp proceeded to force him to allow the threatened back scrubbing, and then to further the embarrassing treatment, insisted upon drying him off, too.

Now seated on the edge of Yuuri’s freshly made bed, Wolfram toyed with the end of the cord that held closed the fluffy blue bathrobe he’d been wrapped in. Yuuri was at the door in a similar garment, speaking in low tones to one of the maids. He watched silently as the dark-haired boy bustled around the room, gathering his clothes and running a comb through his hair. For a moment, he allowed himself to just relax. Was this what the rest of their lives would be like? Sharing such simple, domestic moments…it brought a smile to his face.

Halfway through shrugging into his jacket, Yuuri paused, looking at him with a strange, curious expression. “What are you smiling about, Wolfram?” Not wanting to ruin the moment, he simply turned away, pretending to be annoyed. As he did so, however, the smile drew wide across his face. Cloth rustled, and a moment later, Yuuri went into the bathroom to get his shoes. A knock came at the door, and Yuuri called, “Can you get the door, please?”

Wolfram slid off of the bed and padded across the plush carpets to the door, opening the large portal. A short, freckled young maid stood there, holding a fresh uniform and a pair of boots. “His Majesty has asked that we bring you your clothes, young master.” He took them and thanked the girl, who then asked, “Are you feeling better, sir? His Highness was very worried…” her voice lowered to a whisper, obviously knowing that if Yuuri heard her, she could be in trouble, “…he was frantic, until he got your medicine.” The girl smiled a little before she said before leaving, “You are a very lucky man to have him, sir.”

When the lock on the door caught as he closed it behind him, he thought about that statement, and he wanted to slap himself. He’d just caught his mouth stretching into an entirely too idiotic grin. Yuuri presently emerged from the bathroom, hopping on one foot while tying his shoe, and Wolfram watched his every move. He walked the same way he always had; but the blonde’s eyes caught the purpose in each step now. His gaze found the simple, efficient grace in each movement, and damn him, but he was grinning again. He barely had time to slip back into his usual smirk before Yuuri turned around, fixing his formal blue wrap around his shoulders.

Just then, the bell tolled for dinner. “Are you hungry, Wolfram?” Though he would have denied it, his stomach chose that moment to growl, and Yuuri smiled. “Get dressed, then. Dinner’s served.” Oddly enough, Wolfram found himself moving to obey. What was even stranger was that he didn’t care that he was. Even as he pushed his arms through sleeves, stepped into his trousers, and tied his ascot, Wolfram wondered why things felt so different. Was that odd, warm feeling supposed to be there in his chest?

Answers to all of the questions swarming around his mind would have to wait, since Yuuri had already gently taken him by the arm, leading the way to the main dining hall. Servants hurried past, and when they were in clusters of two or more, they whispered amongst them, the women giggling. What were they on about? He had walked with Yuuri down the halls a hundred times. Tonight was no different. Or…maybe it was? Did that wimpy Maou have something up his sleeve? Slowly, Wolfram began to tense, waiting for some kind of cosmic joke to come to fruition.

He would undoubtedly become the butt of any such joke, as was always the case. But that thought was put out of his mind when they came to the large room at the end of the hall. Here was such a strange sight that Wolfram’s feet stopped, and refused to move an inch further.

Across the table from where he and Yuuri would be seated, Wolfram saw his eldest brother trying to fend off Günter, who was attempting to feed him a bite of some kind of dessert. He was not trying very hard, however, and after a moment allowed the lavender-haired man to slip the fork past his lips. When Gwendel was through consuming the treat, Günter bent to place a chaste kiss on the general’s cheek, causing Gwendel to color slightly.

Suddenly feeling a tug on his sleeve, Wolfram whipped his head to the left, only to find Yuuri gazing at him with concern in those deep black eyes. “Are you well, Wolfram?”

“Y-Yes, I’m fine.” He said quietly, and in an even lower tone, “But you’re going to explain that—“ Wolfram pointed to the disgustingly sweet sight across the room, “—as soon as we’re alone.” Yuuri smiled amusedly, but agreed, leading Wolfram to his accustomed seat. Before he could do so himself, Yuuri pulled out his chair for him. Confused, but also secretly pleased at this gentlemanly behavior, the blonde boy seated himself.

Dinner proceeded as normal for the next fifteen minutes, only with the absence of the former Maou. But then, Yuuri put down his spork, and picked up the plate that his napkin-ring had been sitting on, and slowly stood. Wolfram’s breath caught. He wouldn’t—

That thought did not have time to finish itself. Green eyes watched in morbid fascination as the porcelain fell to the floor, crashing into a hundred tiny fragments directly in front of him. Jaws dropped all around the table, and over the hammering of Wolfram’s heart, he could vaguely hear Günter beginning to make exclamations that became increasingly desperate. Tears began welling up in his eyes as he stood, turning to face Yuuri. All he could do was whisper in an unsteady voice, “Why?”

The breaking of plate was a symbol, similar to the throwing and retrieval of cutlery, only rather than the acceptance of a duel, this symbolized the breaking of their engagement. Yuuri did not look angry. On the contrary, the Maou had a fierce look of joy in his eyes. Was he that happy to be rid of Wolfram? Each thought that now passed through his mind was darker than the last, and he was on point of fleeing the room when he felt something impact the left side of his face.

Wolfram’s hand instantly flew to the still-stinging cheek, his green eyes widening impossibly until what had just occurred truly sunk in. Yuuri stood there, patiently waiting, and it was all Wolfram could do to keep himself from simply throwing his arms around the other’s neck and squeezing him. Voice shaking almost as badly as the rest of him, he said, “I accept.” The smile those two little words earned was instantly burned into Wolfram’s mind, his alone to keep forever. That is not to say that Yuuri would end up unscathed for nearly causing Wolfram to have a heart attack…no, revenge would be his…in time.

--

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, birds flew this way and that, and there was even a gentle breeze causing the flowers and trees to sway. Yuuri sat on the crest of the hill, overlooking the now-complete baseball field. They had taken a few hours to simply walk around the area surrounding the castle, just the two of them. Wolfram, as usual, took advantage of the peaceful scenery and lay down nearby, promptly falling asleep. Yuuri chuckled when he glanced to his left, watching how the breeze blew at tousled blonde hair. His fiancé had a strange talent for being able to sleep just about anywhere.

With eyes closed, one arm draped over his middle, and the other bent near his head, Wolfram had slept precisely the way he’d fallen to the ground. In a way, Yuuri envied him. There was little chance of him being able to sleep so well. But there was another side of him that simply loved watching Wolfram sleep. He had found that on nights he was unable to do so himself, one of the most enjoyable ways to pass the time was to simply turn over, and stare at the way the moon lit fair skin, making Wolfram seem to glow.

Yuuri felt the sudden mad urge to wake Wolfram, but not in a way that one might think. He scooted closer, trying not to make much noise. After a moment, when he was sure that the other boy was still asleep, he leaned down, intent on kissing Wolfram’s cheek. But when his lips touched skin, it was not that of a cheek, but of Wolfram’s lips. Yuuri would have pulled away immediately, had he not realized that he was now looking into two very wakeful green eyes, and being held firmly in place by two curiously strong hands on his shoulders.

Wolfram’s lips were warm and soft, and felt rather nice against his, so Yuuri was not about to complain. He merely continued to press his mouth gently against his fiancé’s, the kiss remaining simple and chaste until Wolfram chose to break it. “I thought you were asleep,” Yuuri said softly when he pulled back.

“How can I sleep with you looking at me like that?” Came the irritated—yet somehow fond—retort. Yuuri began to apologize, but Wolfram hushed him, fingers absently moving to trail through the black hair at the back of his head. “I didn’t say it bothered me, Yuuri,” the blonde smiled for a moment before sitting up and kissing Yuuri’s cheek. The young king started, eyes wide. Wolfram smiled broadly. “You really are adorable, you know that?”

“I am not.” Yuuri began to frown

“You are so.” Wolfram’s smile turned sly.

“Am not.” Yuuri’s frown became a grimace.

“Are.” Wolfram began chuckling.

“Not!” Yuuri yelled, tackling his fiancé to the ground and landing squarely on top of him. “I am not adorable. Little kids are adorable.” When Wolfram continued to laugh, he started turning red. Why did this always have to happen? They were having a nice, quiet moment, during which no insults were used, and then wham! Wolfram had to call him that…that word! “Can’t you say that I’m handsome…or something more manly?”

Wolfram stopped laughing suddenly, his eyes fixing on Yuuri’s mouth. With a smile that looked oh-so-devious, Wolfram propped himself up on his elbows, pressing his face close to where Yuuri’s hovered over his, and whispered, “I’ll call you whatever you want if you kiss me again.” For only an instant, Yuuri felt a stab of shock attack his guts. The scandalized feeling lessened significantly, however, in short order, and he allowed himself to indulge his fiancé.

This kiss was different, more lingering and purposeful, and Yuuri heard a small sound from Wolfram’s throat. It was something like a whimper, but he couldn’t be sure. Finally, he pulled away, and opened his eyes—though he could not remember closing them—to see Wolfram staring back at him. As was always the case, Yuuri was helpless under that intense green stare. He was paralyzed until those eyes closed, but he took the opportunity to put his arms around his fiancé, holding him. “I love you,” he heard Wolfram whisper, and he held tighter to Yuuri, who was stiff as a board with shock once again.

Once he got over the initial period of dizziness that resulted from those words being spoken, Yuuri returned the sentiment. “I love you too, Wolfram.”

--

End.

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A/N: So there you have it. Happy ending, and no one got beaten to a pulp—fluffy or otherwise. Hehe. Thanks to those of you who’ve reviewed. I love you all!