Hello again! Yes, yet another RichterEmil. I am apparently trying to monopolize this pairing, oops. Please, any other RichterEmil writer hopefuls, don’t be discouraged! I’d really like to see some fics up there besides mine and the other… three…? ^_^

This one’s inspired by .Game’s comment in response to my idea that Richter and Emil could live in Triet – “Wouldn't Flanoir be a more appropriate
town? I mean... They could keep each other warm at night. Wow. That made me think dirty thoughts.”

I couldn’t agree more! It made me think dirty thoughts as well, so I decided to go with it! Thanks, Reaper!

No idea where in the timeline this would be. Obviously sometime before Emil goes to Flanoir himself.

Romantic

The snow-covered landscape was a beautiful but intimidating sight for Emil, whose entire life had been spent in warm climates. The snow drifting through the air was fascinating, and he kept wanting to reach out and catch what looked like soft, fluffy balls of light. Common sense held his curiosity at bay, though it had failed to dress him in a suitably warm outfit. Instead, he found himself shivering in his usual clothes, though the scarf might have appeared a good choice.

“We’re nearly there.” Richter, traveling quietly beside him, did not seem at all affected by the cold despite wearing his normal clothing.

It did help that his usual outfit included a long coat, but Emil got the feeling that Richter could have worn nothing and still walked determinedly forward with that same, apathetic expression. He was almost inhuman that way, not only his lack of a reaction to the weather, but his failure to react to life in general. Except, of course, where Emil himself was concerned. Emil could inspire fury faster than Zelos busting out a rendition of ‘Brick House’ within Sheena’s hearing. And this was the emotionless Richter he tended to enrage, so it was all the more heroic a feat, though heroic wasn’t at all the right word.

Luckily he had been so absorbed in the falling snow, as well as the already-fallen snow, that he had been unusually silent in their trek to Flanoir, and that had meant the absence of their usual pattern – Emil making some comment that happened to annoy Richter, Richter in turn releasing his irritation on Emil, Emil apologizing, Richter getting even angrier because he hated apologies, then Emil becoming subdued due to Richter’s harshness, and finally Richter’s awkward attempt to make reparations, only rarely with an apology of any sort.

So really it was a blessing that the snow so occupied Emil that he wasn’t attempting to make conversation.

“Welcome to Flanoir.” When Richter said it, it was as if all the cheerfulness abandoned the normally comforting phrase, and it was more like an offhand comment, perhaps even a warning.

“Wow.” It was all Emil could say as his wide eyes took in the snow-covered buildings, the bundled-up townspeople, the quaint, festive cottages. “This is… um… romantic, isn’t it?”

Richter expression reflected all the enthusiasm of a wolf at the sight of sushi, though he did hesitate before brushing off Emil’s remark with, “We’ll head to the inn.”

“R-right.” Emil agreed, feeling the pangs of awkwardness and wondering why he had chosen to define the town as something so… so… mushy?

It was the middle of the night, and Emil could feel the cold seeping into his bones even with the heavy blanket covering him and the large night-shirt he was wearing. He firmly renounced his earlier opinion of snow, eyes squeezed shut, body shaking in a futile attempt to generate some heat. It was more than he could take, and he was afraid that, should he manage to sleep despite the temperature drop, he would wake frozen to the mattress. Or perhaps not wake at all.

Such terrifying thoughts were made for the night, and at the thought of freezing in his little, cell-like inn room – no longer defined as ‘home-y’ – had him fleeing on impulse to the safest place he could imagine: Richter’s room.

‘He’ll know what to do.’ Emil assured himself through his panic, feet pattering on the ice-cold wood flooring as he ran to the room next to his, no time for pleasantries like taking care to enter quietly.

By the time he had closed the door behind him, Richter was out of bed with his arms folded, annoyed expression threatening him wordlessly with, ‘this better be important.’ The man was wearing the sleeping-wear given to all tourists of this place, a simple pair of woolen pants and a sort of night-shirt. Clearly operating in opposition to the cold, Richter had apparently conceded to wearing both, and the shirt was buttoned up right to his neck. It looked… odd… on him, to say the least.

“R-R-Richt-t-ter!” Emil exclaimed, impeded greatly by chattering teeth. Fortunately (or unfortunately), this barely made a difference to his usual stutter.

“Something wrong?” Richter asked coldly, and that is to say indifferently, not in a way that suggested he was physically cold, because he gave off no hints that he was not perfectly warm, even standing on the same icy floor as Emil.

“C-c-c-c-col…d…” Emil’s shaking made it very difficult for him to express himself and he only hoped that he could be somewhere warm soon, he didn’t really care at this point where.

“Yes, it is.” Richter agreed, cruelly ignoring Emil’s obvious intentions. He glanced back at his bed as if debating whether to throw his friend out of the room and get back into it.

Emil flushed, or perhaps that was his face starting to freeze over as he begged, no shame left, “C-c-c-can I… s-sleep w-with you?”

Richter quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing, not even bothering to correct Emil with the observation that, yes, it was possible for them to sleep together, but the proper way to ask would have started with ‘may,’ not ‘can.’

Emil, humiliated further by the lack of response, did his best to explain what he didn’t know Richter already knew. “I-I mean, j-just for tonight, s-so tom-morrow I-I could g-get warmer cl-cl-clo-”

Richter took in the rather desperate state of his friend, sighed, and gave in. “Fine.”

“Oh, th-th-thank y-you!” Emil shivered, practically bolting to the bed in question.

Richter stopped him with a hand pressed lightly to his chest, eyes sliding down before making their way back to his. “Just one question, Emil… what are you wearing?”

Emil followed Richter’s gaze as it lingered on his odd kind of nightgown, and he was thankfully too cold to make much of a reaction, though in his mind he was berating himself for not looking in the mirror at some point before going to bed the first time.

“I-It’s a n-nightgown…?” He said dubiously, recalling not really having looked at it as he put it on. “I-it w-was in the d-dresser… y-you kn-know, the p-pajamas th-they give y-you.”

“There are… ruffles.” Richter pronounced the word with distaste, and his hand brushed over said abominations to draw Emil’s eyes there. “And… ribbons.” The same pattern as with the first horrible realization.

“O-oh.” His voice was higher suddenly from embarrassment. “D-did they… g-give me the g-g-girls’ pajamas?”

“Seems so.” Richter replied casually, and the corners of his lips twitched upwards as he turned away. “Doesn’t matter.”

Emil nodded despite the fact his friend couldn’t see, and eyed the bed despairingly. He was starting to lose all feeling in his body, and he was beginning to think the nightgown wasn’t actually very insulating, because it really wasn’t doing a good job of keeping him warm.

Richter heaved a sigh of apparent irritation, and gestured to his bed. “Go on. Ladies first.”

Emil blushed in indignation, but his frozen feet drove him to comply, and he slid under the covers into the still-warm bed with a noise of utmost relief. He felt the mattress sag on the other side, and Richter slipped into the bed beside him, immediately turning to face away from him. It was much warmer with two, their combined body heat producing a comfortable temperature under the blankets, though it nearly didn’t make up for the awkwardness.

The bed wasn’t all that big. While it was possible for two people to – theoretically – share one of this size, in practice it wasn’t exactly easy. And although Emil was as slender and delicately-sized as a girl, he and Richter still were forced together rather embarrassingly, back-to-back. Of course it would have been worse any other way, but he could still feel the warmth of another body pressing against his, and the fact that it was Richter…

He blushed, and tried his best to snuggle into the bit of the pillow he was allotted, closing his eyes and hoping sleep would come. Although… it was so strange to be in bed with someone that he almost didn’t want to fall asleep. Half because he didn’t want to forget the odd feeling of it, and half because he wasn’t at all sure how he’d wake up, and he was betting he wouldn’t recall anything for a few seconds after regaining consciousness. He was not looking forward to those few seconds of uncertainty. The blush grew.

He tried to draw his mind away from the inconsequential thoughts, and instead took comfort in the new warmth, slowly melting the frost that had invaded into his very bloodstream. He had finally stopped shivering, which made things much less humiliating because… well… shivering against Richter was entirely awkward and even worse because the other man wouldn’t say anything about it.

“Richter?” It slipped out before he really knew what he was going to ask, and he winced as he heard a disgruntled mutter from behind him.

“Yes?” That tone of annoyance was only too familiar, and still it made him feel small and insignificant, and guilty for disturbing Richter.

But he had started this, so he figured he might as well ask his question since Richter would be more angry if he said ‘nothing’ as a reply. “Why don’t you ever get cold?”

“It’s called ‘being a man.’” Richter said irritably, and Emil noticed that the older man had not moved at all since getting into the bed – pretty odd, since Emil had been attempting to get more comfortable for the last couple minutes, and he couldn’t imagine just lying there in whatever position he had happened to be in.

He belatedly absorbed Richter’s reply, and, feeling the scorn in it, resolved not to ask anything else, mumbling. “I wish I could do that.”

To his surprise, Richter answered with a sigh and a defeated, “Maybe when you’re older.”

Emil colored and turned on impulse, only to be greeted by the back of Richter’s night-shirt, which nevertheless had no effect on his indignation. “I’m seventeen!”

Richter chuckled, causing Emil to lose his breath for a moment he was so startled. “You don’t act like it.”

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” Emil demanded, once he had regained his breath. He didn’t like the way Richter was making him sound like a little kid. It was almost worse than the nightgown thing.

“Just go to sleep.” Richter commanded in his usual monotone, and that sealed off all conversation.

Yes, Flanoir was definitely the epitome of ‘romantic.’

Odd that there was no actual shounen-ai... oops.