Fic: The Accident (PG-13), part 2
Title: The Accident
Author: genkisakka
Pairings/Characters: Yuuri/Wolfram, Conrad, Greta, Gunter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romantic comedy
Part: 2 of 4
Warnings: boys kissing boys
Disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maoh isn’t my world, I’m just playing in it.
Summary: Yuuri just wanted Wolfram to stop hogging his bed…
The second time was Greta’s fault. Not that Yuuri was really blaming her -- she was only a child and didn't know any better -- but her relentless questions had given Wolfram the opening. And that damned devious prince, who apparently hadn't been as asleep during the previous week's lip-touching incident as Yuuri had thought, had jumped at the chance to even the score with that-
No, Yuuri thought angrily, rolling over for the tenth time in the hour since he’d gone to bed in a fruitless quest for sleep. He refused to call THAT a kiss. That stupid mouth-mashing Wolfram inflicted on him in front of Greta was just another maneuver in their never-ending battle of one-upmanship. To call it anything else was to admit Wolfram had the upper hand, and Yuuri would sooner parade naked at high noon through Shin Makoku than concede anything to that arrogant jerk.
Yuuri shifted onto his back and scowled at the ceiling, letting his mind drift over the events of the last several days. He had spent the day after The Accident (as Yuuri was now calling it) preparing himself to confront Wolfram that night when he tried to sneak into Yuuri's bed. But Wolfram never showed up, and Yuuri drifted to sleep sometime after midnight. He awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and somewhat annoyed that he hadn't had the opportunity to test his new resolve.
Yuuri kept an eye out for Wolfram all morning. He checked the army’s practice field, the palace’s sun porch, Gwendal’s office… all the prince’s usual haunts… but he was nowhere to be found. That afternoon, just as he was about to ask Conrad about his younger brother’s whereabouts, Conrad informed him that Wolfram had accompanied Gwendal to one of the kingdom’s outlying villages to check on rebuilding efforts in the wake of the spring floods.
"It figures. I finally make up my mind to be tough with him, and he sneaks off," Yuuri said, thumping his bat against the ground. He hoped he sounded more nonchalant than he felt.
"They'll be back in a few days," Conrad said with a benign smile, casually tossing the ball in the air and catching it. His eyes gleamed. "Now, are you ready for my special pitch? I've been working on a new kind of slider."
Yuuri grinned and assumed his batting stance. "You bet! Let me have it,” he said, switching his focus from Wolfram to baseball.
The next three days passed in a blur of document-signings and diplomat-greetings, and Yuuri had little time to dwell on Wolfram’s absence in all the activity. But when Gwendal’s dour countenance greeted Yuuri on the morning of the fourth day, and the king realized Wolfram was back as well, he felt a surge of anticipation. Finally, here was his chance to resolve things with the prince once and for all.
Wolfram tended to skip breakfast in favor of sharing the large lunch the kitchen set out for Yuuri, who liked to build his strength for his afternoon baseball training. Yuuri figured it would be the perfect time to bring up the whole “stop-sneaking-into-my-bed” thing in a casual, friendly manner. Wolfram was a lot less touchy during mealtimes, especially when the weather was fine and they could eat outdoors.
But Wolfram didn’t join him for lunch. In fact, Yuuri didn’t see Wolfram at all until he went to put Greta to bed that night. He opened the door to find Greta already tucked in and Wolfram perched in Yuuri’s usual spot on the edge of the bed.
Wolfram returned Yuuri’s glower with a scowl of his own. "What?" the prince snapped, green eyes flashing in unspoken challenge.
Greta was looking from one father to the other with a worried frown, and Yuuri decided he'd best put aside his pique for their daughter's sake. "Nothing," Yuuri replied with forced cheer, pulling a rose-covered wing chair close to Greta's bedside. "Now, where were we in 'Heidi,' Greta?"
Greta held out the book, which fell open easily to the chapter marked by a slender piece of iridescent pink knitting. Gwendal's handiwork, no doubt. Yuuri smiled briefly at the image of the glum, irascible prince with his hands full of sparkly pink yarn.
"Heidi is on her way back to her mountain," Greta said. "I can't wait for her to see her goats again!" She paused. "Yuuri-papa, is it all right if Wolfram-papa reads the next part?" she asked, glancing up at the blond.
"I can’t read it, Greta -- the book is in a different language," Wolfram said, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I'll say goodnight now, okay?" He kissed one round cheek and started to rise, but Greta caught his wrist in both hands.
“Wait, Wolfram-papa! Don’t you want to hear about Heidi and her grandfather and the goats and the mountain?” she asked all in a rush.
“I’m sorry, Greta - I have some matters to attend to before my own bedtime,” Wolfram said. He gently extricated himself from the child’s grasp and stepped around Yuuri’s chair without as much as a glance at his king. Yuuri clenched his teeth and kept his eyes on the open book, determined not to give Wolfram the satisfaction of knowing how much the snub irritated him.
“Wait, Wolfram-papa!” Greta cried out. “Aren’t you going to kiss Yuuri-papa goodnight too?”
The book tumbled from Yuuri’s suddenly nerveless fingers, landing spine-first on his right foot. “Ouch!” he cried, hopping out of the chair on his uninjured left foot and nearly tumbling onto the bed. He dared a glance at Wolfram, who remained frozen at the foot of Greta’s bed, his back to both of them.
Greta patted Yuuri’s sleeve consolingly. “Are you all right, Yuuri-papa?”
“Fine! I’m fine,” he said in a strangled voice. “But Greta…”
“How come you and Yuuri-papa never kiss each other goodnight?” Greta interrupted, speaking to Wolfram’s blue-clad back. Her words tumbled over each other. “I’ve never even seen you kiss once! You’re engaged, so you’re a couple, right? And couples kiss each other all the time, I’ve seen it in the village, and I’ve seen Hube and Nicola in the hayloft…”
Yuuri gaped at his ward. “Greta, you’re too young to be seeing such things!” he said in what he hoped was a stern rather than shocked tone. It was definitely time to change the topic from “Why Wolfram and Yuuri Should Kiss Like All Couples Do” to “Why Greta Shouldn’t Spy on People in the Hayloft.”
But the rest of his lecture got caught in his throat as Wolfram slowly turned around. One look at the prince’s sly smile and narrowed eyes, and Yuuri unconsciously backed away, bumping into the arm of the wing chair. It was the same look Wolfram wore on the battlefield, or during tournaments -- right before he dealt the killing blow.
“Well, you see, Greta,” Wolfram said calmly. He took one slow step forward, his gaze fixed on Yuuri. “Kissing is something some couples prefer to do in private.”
Wolfram took another step toward Yuuri, who fought the urge to whimper for mercy, and instead stood up straight in an effort to emphasize his half-inch height advantage. “Wolfram makes an excellent point, Greta,” he said, pleased at how steady his voice sounded. Before he could expand on it, Wolfram continued --
“Yes, Greta, some people are too shy to kiss their partners in front of other people. They’d rather wait until late at night, when no one else is watching, to do it.”
Wolfram was nose to nose with Yuuri now, cheeks pink and eyes bright with a mix of temper and an emotion Yuuri couldn’t quite identify. Yuuri felt his whole body flush beet-red at the realization that Wolfram had known all along about The Accident. He dimly wondered if it was possible to die of mortification.
“But we’re family,” Greta piped from her bed. “It’s okay if you want to kiss in front of me. I won’t mind, really!”
Yuuri glanced sideways and groaned inwardly at the sight of Greta’s intensely attentive expression. Just as Yuuri was making a mental note to keep Greta from spending so much time with those silly love-obsessed kitchen maids, Wolfram grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed his half-smirk to Yuuri’s slightly open mouth. A few seconds later, Wolfram disengaged his lips with a slight smacking sound.
“Good night, Yuuri,” he said with a small, triumphant grin, gliding out of the room before Yuuri could form a coherent protest. The young king stood for a full minute, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, before Greta let out a long, dreamy sigh.
“That was so sweet,” she said. “I’m glad Wolfram-papa’s not mad at you anymore.”
Yuuri snapped out of his trance at that pronouncement. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” he muttered, picking up the book and flipping it open again. His mouth was still tingling from Wolfram’s unexpected assault, which had been ridiculous and outrageous and not at ALL pleasant, not even a little bit, he chanted to himself. As he settled into his rightful spot on Greta’s bed, Greta touched his fevered cheek.
“Yuuri-papa, your face is so warm! And red… it looks like one of Anissa’s poppies!” she giggled “Are you really that shy about kissing? Elysia always thought it was Wolfram-papa that was embarrassed about--”
“All right!” Yuuri interrupted, infusing his voice with as much hearty energy as he could muster. “Time to read more of ‘Heidi,’ then it’s off to sleep with you, Greta dear!” Greta sighed again, this time in resignation, and settled against her pillow as Yuuri began reading with more than his usual enthusiasm in an effort to regain his equilibrium. He finished the chapter and gave his sleepy daughter a goodnight hug and kiss without further comment on the incident.
But as he quietly closed her door behind him and started down the hall toward his private bath, his serene countenance collapsed into a dark scowl worthy of his justice-seeking demonic alter-ego.
What the hell WAS that? was the single thought running in a loop through his brain as he scrubbed himself down and gave his teeth an extra-thorough brushing. He eyed the marble bath, which steamed invitingly, and decided he was too upset for a soak. Damn that demon bastard for spoiling another of his favorite pastimes! He dried off, pulled on his pajamas and stomped off to his bedroom, slamming the door and wishing for the hundredth time it had a lock. But Gunter had been adamant in his refusal to have one installed.
“Your majesty, what if somehow an assassin manages to sneak into the castle and is lying in wait for you when you retire for the night?” he’d wailed. “Your door would be locked, and even if we gave a guard the key, we wouldn’t be in time to prevent your death!” Gunter’s ever-present concern for his king’s well-being made Yuuri feel guilty for even suggesting such a thing, and so he dropped the subject.
But now, as he tossed about in the dark stewing over Wolfram’s latest maneuver, he wished he’d pressed the issue more forcefully with Gunter. After all, he was king, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he be allowed to lock his own door? Wasn’t it his right to sleep in his own bed, by himself, without his subjects intruding on his privacy and invading his personal space whenever they please?
He threw the covers back and flung himself face-down into his pillow. It had to be at least midnight by now, and he was still not in the least bit sleepy, thanks to that stuck-up, sneaky, green-eyed, soft-lipped, citrus-flavored…
Yuuri shook his head vigorously to derail that particular train of thought. “Oh-no-no-NO,” he growled, pounding his pillow with each utterance. “I did NOT like… I WILL not think about… dammit! He will NOT get away with this!”
~to be continued~
Author: genkisakka
Pairings/Characters: Yuuri/Wolfram, Conrad, Greta, Gunter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romantic comedy
Part: 2 of 4
Warnings: boys kissing boys
Disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maoh isn’t my world, I’m just playing in it.
Summary: Yuuri just wanted Wolfram to stop hogging his bed…
The second time was Greta’s fault. Not that Yuuri was really blaming her -- she was only a child and didn't know any better -- but her relentless questions had given Wolfram the opening. And that damned devious prince, who apparently hadn't been as asleep during the previous week's lip-touching incident as Yuuri had thought, had jumped at the chance to even the score with that-
No, Yuuri thought angrily, rolling over for the tenth time in the hour since he’d gone to bed in a fruitless quest for sleep. He refused to call THAT a kiss. That stupid mouth-mashing Wolfram inflicted on him in front of Greta was just another maneuver in their never-ending battle of one-upmanship. To call it anything else was to admit Wolfram had the upper hand, and Yuuri would sooner parade naked at high noon through Shin Makoku than concede anything to that arrogant jerk.
Yuuri shifted onto his back and scowled at the ceiling, letting his mind drift over the events of the last several days. He had spent the day after The Accident (as Yuuri was now calling it) preparing himself to confront Wolfram that night when he tried to sneak into Yuuri's bed. But Wolfram never showed up, and Yuuri drifted to sleep sometime after midnight. He awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and somewhat annoyed that he hadn't had the opportunity to test his new resolve.
Yuuri kept an eye out for Wolfram all morning. He checked the army’s practice field, the palace’s sun porch, Gwendal’s office… all the prince’s usual haunts… but he was nowhere to be found. That afternoon, just as he was about to ask Conrad about his younger brother’s whereabouts, Conrad informed him that Wolfram had accompanied Gwendal to one of the kingdom’s outlying villages to check on rebuilding efforts in the wake of the spring floods.
"It figures. I finally make up my mind to be tough with him, and he sneaks off," Yuuri said, thumping his bat against the ground. He hoped he sounded more nonchalant than he felt.
"They'll be back in a few days," Conrad said with a benign smile, casually tossing the ball in the air and catching it. His eyes gleamed. "Now, are you ready for my special pitch? I've been working on a new kind of slider."
Yuuri grinned and assumed his batting stance. "You bet! Let me have it,” he said, switching his focus from Wolfram to baseball.
The next three days passed in a blur of document-signings and diplomat-greetings, and Yuuri had little time to dwell on Wolfram’s absence in all the activity. But when Gwendal’s dour countenance greeted Yuuri on the morning of the fourth day, and the king realized Wolfram was back as well, he felt a surge of anticipation. Finally, here was his chance to resolve things with the prince once and for all.
Wolfram tended to skip breakfast in favor of sharing the large lunch the kitchen set out for Yuuri, who liked to build his strength for his afternoon baseball training. Yuuri figured it would be the perfect time to bring up the whole “stop-sneaking-into-my-bed” thing in a casual, friendly manner. Wolfram was a lot less touchy during mealtimes, especially when the weather was fine and they could eat outdoors.
But Wolfram didn’t join him for lunch. In fact, Yuuri didn’t see Wolfram at all until he went to put Greta to bed that night. He opened the door to find Greta already tucked in and Wolfram perched in Yuuri’s usual spot on the edge of the bed.
Wolfram returned Yuuri’s glower with a scowl of his own. "What?" the prince snapped, green eyes flashing in unspoken challenge.
Greta was looking from one father to the other with a worried frown, and Yuuri decided he'd best put aside his pique for their daughter's sake. "Nothing," Yuuri replied with forced cheer, pulling a rose-covered wing chair close to Greta's bedside. "Now, where were we in 'Heidi,' Greta?"
Greta held out the book, which fell open easily to the chapter marked by a slender piece of iridescent pink knitting. Gwendal's handiwork, no doubt. Yuuri smiled briefly at the image of the glum, irascible prince with his hands full of sparkly pink yarn.
"Heidi is on her way back to her mountain," Greta said. "I can't wait for her to see her goats again!" She paused. "Yuuri-papa, is it all right if Wolfram-papa reads the next part?" she asked, glancing up at the blond.
"I can’t read it, Greta -- the book is in a different language," Wolfram said, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I'll say goodnight now, okay?" He kissed one round cheek and started to rise, but Greta caught his wrist in both hands.
“Wait, Wolfram-papa! Don’t you want to hear about Heidi and her grandfather and the goats and the mountain?” she asked all in a rush.
“I’m sorry, Greta - I have some matters to attend to before my own bedtime,” Wolfram said. He gently extricated himself from the child’s grasp and stepped around Yuuri’s chair without as much as a glance at his king. Yuuri clenched his teeth and kept his eyes on the open book, determined not to give Wolfram the satisfaction of knowing how much the snub irritated him.
“Wait, Wolfram-papa!” Greta cried out. “Aren’t you going to kiss Yuuri-papa goodnight too?”
The book tumbled from Yuuri’s suddenly nerveless fingers, landing spine-first on his right foot. “Ouch!” he cried, hopping out of the chair on his uninjured left foot and nearly tumbling onto the bed. He dared a glance at Wolfram, who remained frozen at the foot of Greta’s bed, his back to both of them.
Greta patted Yuuri’s sleeve consolingly. “Are you all right, Yuuri-papa?”
“Fine! I’m fine,” he said in a strangled voice. “But Greta…”
“How come you and Yuuri-papa never kiss each other goodnight?” Greta interrupted, speaking to Wolfram’s blue-clad back. Her words tumbled over each other. “I’ve never even seen you kiss once! You’re engaged, so you’re a couple, right? And couples kiss each other all the time, I’ve seen it in the village, and I’ve seen Hube and Nicola in the hayloft…”
Yuuri gaped at his ward. “Greta, you’re too young to be seeing such things!” he said in what he hoped was a stern rather than shocked tone. It was definitely time to change the topic from “Why Wolfram and Yuuri Should Kiss Like All Couples Do” to “Why Greta Shouldn’t Spy on People in the Hayloft.”
But the rest of his lecture got caught in his throat as Wolfram slowly turned around. One look at the prince’s sly smile and narrowed eyes, and Yuuri unconsciously backed away, bumping into the arm of the wing chair. It was the same look Wolfram wore on the battlefield, or during tournaments -- right before he dealt the killing blow.
“Well, you see, Greta,” Wolfram said calmly. He took one slow step forward, his gaze fixed on Yuuri. “Kissing is something some couples prefer to do in private.”
Wolfram took another step toward Yuuri, who fought the urge to whimper for mercy, and instead stood up straight in an effort to emphasize his half-inch height advantage. “Wolfram makes an excellent point, Greta,” he said, pleased at how steady his voice sounded. Before he could expand on it, Wolfram continued --
“Yes, Greta, some people are too shy to kiss their partners in front of other people. They’d rather wait until late at night, when no one else is watching, to do it.”
Wolfram was nose to nose with Yuuri now, cheeks pink and eyes bright with a mix of temper and an emotion Yuuri couldn’t quite identify. Yuuri felt his whole body flush beet-red at the realization that Wolfram had known all along about The Accident. He dimly wondered if it was possible to die of mortification.
“But we’re family,” Greta piped from her bed. “It’s okay if you want to kiss in front of me. I won’t mind, really!”
Yuuri glanced sideways and groaned inwardly at the sight of Greta’s intensely attentive expression. Just as Yuuri was making a mental note to keep Greta from spending so much time with those silly love-obsessed kitchen maids, Wolfram grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed his half-smirk to Yuuri’s slightly open mouth. A few seconds later, Wolfram disengaged his lips with a slight smacking sound.
“Good night, Yuuri,” he said with a small, triumphant grin, gliding out of the room before Yuuri could form a coherent protest. The young king stood for a full minute, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, before Greta let out a long, dreamy sigh.
“That was so sweet,” she said. “I’m glad Wolfram-papa’s not mad at you anymore.”
Yuuri snapped out of his trance at that pronouncement. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” he muttered, picking up the book and flipping it open again. His mouth was still tingling from Wolfram’s unexpected assault, which had been ridiculous and outrageous and not at ALL pleasant, not even a little bit, he chanted to himself. As he settled into his rightful spot on Greta’s bed, Greta touched his fevered cheek.
“Yuuri-papa, your face is so warm! And red… it looks like one of Anissa’s poppies!” she giggled “Are you really that shy about kissing? Elysia always thought it was Wolfram-papa that was embarrassed about--”
“All right!” Yuuri interrupted, infusing his voice with as much hearty energy as he could muster. “Time to read more of ‘Heidi,’ then it’s off to sleep with you, Greta dear!” Greta sighed again, this time in resignation, and settled against her pillow as Yuuri began reading with more than his usual enthusiasm in an effort to regain his equilibrium. He finished the chapter and gave his sleepy daughter a goodnight hug and kiss without further comment on the incident.
But as he quietly closed her door behind him and started down the hall toward his private bath, his serene countenance collapsed into a dark scowl worthy of his justice-seeking demonic alter-ego.
What the hell WAS that? was the single thought running in a loop through his brain as he scrubbed himself down and gave his teeth an extra-thorough brushing. He eyed the marble bath, which steamed invitingly, and decided he was too upset for a soak. Damn that demon bastard for spoiling another of his favorite pastimes! He dried off, pulled on his pajamas and stomped off to his bedroom, slamming the door and wishing for the hundredth time it had a lock. But Gunter had been adamant in his refusal to have one installed.
“Your majesty, what if somehow an assassin manages to sneak into the castle and is lying in wait for you when you retire for the night?” he’d wailed. “Your door would be locked, and even if we gave a guard the key, we wouldn’t be in time to prevent your death!” Gunter’s ever-present concern for his king’s well-being made Yuuri feel guilty for even suggesting such a thing, and so he dropped the subject.
But now, as he tossed about in the dark stewing over Wolfram’s latest maneuver, he wished he’d pressed the issue more forcefully with Gunter. After all, he was king, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he be allowed to lock his own door? Wasn’t it his right to sleep in his own bed, by himself, without his subjects intruding on his privacy and invading his personal space whenever they please?
He threw the covers back and flung himself face-down into his pillow. It had to be at least midnight by now, and he was still not in the least bit sleepy, thanks to that stuck-up, sneaky, green-eyed, soft-lipped, citrus-flavored…
Yuuri shook his head vigorously to derail that particular train of thought. “Oh-no-no-NO,” he growled, pounding his pillow with each utterance. “I did NOT like… I WILL not think about… dammit! He will NOT get away with this!”
~to be continued~