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Kyou Kara Maou: Wolfram on sleep[ing with Yuuri]
Crossposted to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kyou_kara_maou as bribery material. Yuuri/Wolfram inasmuch as it is canon, IE technically one-sided.
.a good night's sleep.
"What kind of person is he?"
"A wimp."
The pair were seated at an elegant table in the garden, an umbrella overhead to protect them from the sun. It was warm, and a gentle breeze brought the hinted scent of the flower garden to them. It made Wolfram feel vaguely nostalgic, although perhaps it was also the company.
"That's what I've heard," Elizabeth admitted, "but it isn't what I meant. Is he generous?"
It wasn't exactly in Wolfram's nature to be complimentary. He shifted uneasily. "Well, he's not selfish."
"Is he kind?"
"I guess..." he muttered.
She pressed further, "Is he a gentleman? Do you suppose he's romantic?"
Wolfram paused a moment to level her with a steel green glare. "Are you sure you've given up on marrying him?"
"How rude," Elizabeth protested, bristling just slightly. "You know perfectly well the only man I ever intended to marry was you." She fussed with her skirts in a nervous gesture that was rather unlike her -- or at least, what he remembered of her. It had been very long since they'd last met. "Although I've given up on that too," she added in a small voice.
He really hadn't the faintest recollection of why he might have slapped Elizabeth, but he was absolutely positive it hadn't been intended as an offer of marriage. /Of course, Yuuri didn't either.../ But that was different.
"Why are you so set on talking about him anyway?" Wolfram demanded. "I doubt this is what he meant when he told us to go on a date." Which still rankled and was, he felt quite certain, the worst judgment the apparent 'Magistrate of Love' had ever pronounced. Who would have given him that title anyway? It was so tacky he could only have come up with it himself.
"I want to know that you'll be happy, Oniisama." She smiled.
This time the concern seemed less proprietary -- more like it should be, between the brother and sister he had always considered them to be. Feeling almost like he was speaking to Greta, he told her very firmly that he was happy, although maybe too firmly, and it was on his mind for the rest of the damn day.
"You can love someone without it being poetry and flowers," he said crossly to Conrad. His brother only smiled, a smile similar to Elizabeth's: frustrating.
"Who's really happy in a relationship anyway?" he demanded of Gwendal, who nodded with grim agreement as Anissina hooked him up to her latest arcane invention.
/If that cheating bastard would just open his eyes and realize that he needs me as much as I keep telling him he does.../ Just thinking about it brought a flushing warmth that he was determined to ignore. /That would make me happy./
After a hostile dinner where he seized every opportunity to let Yuuri know that his fiance did not appreciate his transparent attempts to foist him off on Elizabeth, Wolfram was tucking his daughter into bed when she suddenly burst out, startling them both.
"Are you angry about Elizabeth?" she said, distress plain on her face. "I'm sorry! I didn't really want her to win!" She almost looked like she was about to cry.
Hurriedly, Wolfram told her, "No, no, I'm not angry about that." He had explained to her very clearly earlier that she wouldn't be gaining a mommy if she won the duel, she would be losing a daddy, and afterwards she had been reassuringly apologetic. Better than Yuuri's pale efforts at appeasement.
"Then why are you angry at Greta?"
"I'm not angry at you. I could never be angry at you. You're my little girl." Greta made a curious gesture that Wolfram could only describe as 'fluffing herself' happily at the comment, and he almost melted. He stroked her hair fondly. "I'm angry at Yuuri for being a wimp."
"I thought that was why you loved him?" she said, oblivious.
He tossed and turned restlessly in his own bed for an hour after that, thinking about all the many reasons why he wanted to strangle Yuuri and sometimes kiss him and occasionally both. Most of the reasons didn't make him happy, which was all the more proof, really, that loving someone didn't have to make you happy.
Wolfram finally got up, irritated. It was getting to the point where he couldn't sleep by himself anymore. The path to Yuuri's room was familiar in the dark, and the guards he spotted along the way didn't bother to challenge him.
The incongruous Maou was sound asleep, dark hair wisps over his face, features slack and soft. Wolfram hovered a long moment over him, just looking, hardly even thinking at all, before he eased himself onto the mattress beside him. Yuuri was easy to sleep with; he was still in the night, and didn't take a lot of space.
To no one in particular, Wolfram murmured, "Don't freak out. It's only because I'm curious." He edged closer until he could, very tentatively, curl an arm over Yuuri's chest. When he didn't wake up, or stir, the blond relaxed further, tucking his chin against the other boy's shoulder.
/He must really be tired./ But for a moment Wolf thought he would never feel tired again. He'd swear there was electricity under his skin wherever he could feel Yuuri's heat, as if the stormsurge powers of the Maou were right there, touchable. It was easy to fit himself against the lean planes of his fiance's body... It was perfect.
Apparently he was tired after all, though, because he had only meant the embrace to last a few seconds but somehow he fell asleep like that, before he even realized his exhaustion.
And the blissful night's rest he had was entirely worth the resulting fuss in the morning.
kyou_kara_maou as bribery material. Yuuri/Wolfram inasmuch as it is canon, IE technically one-sided..a good night's sleep.
"What kind of person is he?"
"A wimp."
The pair were seated at an elegant table in the garden, an umbrella overhead to protect them from the sun. It was warm, and a gentle breeze brought the hinted scent of the flower garden to them. It made Wolfram feel vaguely nostalgic, although perhaps it was also the company.
"That's what I've heard," Elizabeth admitted, "but it isn't what I meant. Is he generous?"
It wasn't exactly in Wolfram's nature to be complimentary. He shifted uneasily. "Well, he's not selfish."
"Is he kind?"
"I guess..." he muttered.
She pressed further, "Is he a gentleman? Do you suppose he's romantic?"
Wolfram paused a moment to level her with a steel green glare. "Are you sure you've given up on marrying him?"
"How rude," Elizabeth protested, bristling just slightly. "You know perfectly well the only man I ever intended to marry was you." She fussed with her skirts in a nervous gesture that was rather unlike her -- or at least, what he remembered of her. It had been very long since they'd last met. "Although I've given up on that too," she added in a small voice.
He really hadn't the faintest recollection of why he might have slapped Elizabeth, but he was absolutely positive it hadn't been intended as an offer of marriage. /Of course, Yuuri didn't either.../ But that was different.
"Why are you so set on talking about him anyway?" Wolfram demanded. "I doubt this is what he meant when he told us to go on a date." Which still rankled and was, he felt quite certain, the worst judgment the apparent 'Magistrate of Love' had ever pronounced. Who would have given him that title anyway? It was so tacky he could only have come up with it himself.
"I want to know that you'll be happy, Oniisama." She smiled.
This time the concern seemed less proprietary -- more like it should be, between the brother and sister he had always considered them to be. Feeling almost like he was speaking to Greta, he told her very firmly that he was happy, although maybe too firmly, and it was on his mind for the rest of the damn day.
"You can love someone without it being poetry and flowers," he said crossly to Conrad. His brother only smiled, a smile similar to Elizabeth's: frustrating.
"Who's really happy in a relationship anyway?" he demanded of Gwendal, who nodded with grim agreement as Anissina hooked him up to her latest arcane invention.
/If that cheating bastard would just open his eyes and realize that he needs me as much as I keep telling him he does.../ Just thinking about it brought a flushing warmth that he was determined to ignore. /That would make me happy./
After a hostile dinner where he seized every opportunity to let Yuuri know that his fiance did not appreciate his transparent attempts to foist him off on Elizabeth, Wolfram was tucking his daughter into bed when she suddenly burst out, startling them both.
"Are you angry about Elizabeth?" she said, distress plain on her face. "I'm sorry! I didn't really want her to win!" She almost looked like she was about to cry.
Hurriedly, Wolfram told her, "No, no, I'm not angry about that." He had explained to her very clearly earlier that she wouldn't be gaining a mommy if she won the duel, she would be losing a daddy, and afterwards she had been reassuringly apologetic. Better than Yuuri's pale efforts at appeasement.
"Then why are you angry at Greta?"
"I'm not angry at you. I could never be angry at you. You're my little girl." Greta made a curious gesture that Wolfram could only describe as 'fluffing herself' happily at the comment, and he almost melted. He stroked her hair fondly. "I'm angry at Yuuri for being a wimp."
"I thought that was why you loved him?" she said, oblivious.
He tossed and turned restlessly in his own bed for an hour after that, thinking about all the many reasons why he wanted to strangle Yuuri and sometimes kiss him and occasionally both. Most of the reasons didn't make him happy, which was all the more proof, really, that loving someone didn't have to make you happy.
Wolfram finally got up, irritated. It was getting to the point where he couldn't sleep by himself anymore. The path to Yuuri's room was familiar in the dark, and the guards he spotted along the way didn't bother to challenge him.
The incongruous Maou was sound asleep, dark hair wisps over his face, features slack and soft. Wolfram hovered a long moment over him, just looking, hardly even thinking at all, before he eased himself onto the mattress beside him. Yuuri was easy to sleep with; he was still in the night, and didn't take a lot of space.
To no one in particular, Wolfram murmured, "Don't freak out. It's only because I'm curious." He edged closer until he could, very tentatively, curl an arm over Yuuri's chest. When he didn't wake up, or stir, the blond relaxed further, tucking his chin against the other boy's shoulder.
/He must really be tired./ But for a moment Wolf thought he would never feel tired again. He'd swear there was electricity under his skin wherever he could feel Yuuri's heat, as if the stormsurge powers of the Maou were right there, touchable. It was easy to fit himself against the lean planes of his fiance's body... It was perfect.
Apparently he was tired after all, though, because he had only meant the embrace to last a few seconds but somehow he fell asleep like that, before he even realized his exhaustion.
And the blissful night's rest he had was entirely worth the resulting fuss in the morning.