Not What It Seems.
Gwendal, most of the times, was perfectly content and happy to let his younger brothers alone in their personal matters. Yes, he'd have to knit two or three toys at times with Conrad's selflessness and apparent wish to be a martyr, or five and six when Wolfram would decide he'd rather have one of his teachers en flambé rather than listening to them, but really, those weren't really important things. If they were life threatening, yes, he'd be right there, but if not, really, who was he to go nosing around their business?
That was even more than true about their romantic life. He was certain that they knew that, if needed, he'd lent his ear to them and try to offer what little advice he could (but considering that his one romantic interest was Anissina whom for better or worse had pretty much gave every first, middle and probably was going to have the last step in that relationship he really wasn't someone to rely upon that) but for the most part, he'd stay apart. There were some things that any older brother who respects himself just doesn't care about knowing.
What is the most important one of those? Older brothers rather prefer to ignore if their younger brothers, the ones they saw being cute, big-eyed babies, are having any (and really, ANY) kind of sexual life. At all.
But, of course, life just didn't seem to like to allow him that small peace of mind. First it had been finding Conrad with Yozak, the latter on his knees with the smile of the cat who had eaten the cream. Literally. So far, with Wolfram, he had been lucky enough. He pretended not to hear the leery comments of his brother's 'soldiers' or Conrad's (his? Oh, they knew better to even try to say something like that of his siblings), or the looks he brought, or even the fact that his just eighty-two years old brother was already engaged. He had even been glad of the engagement, since he seriously doubted that the teenager Maou had even the tiniest idea of the bearbees and the eggs.
Of course, life had to prove him wrong.
"Did you hear that?"" He interrupted Huber's inform about the fourth box's search, frowning a bit while he tried to ignore the other background sounds. Just when Huber was going to answer that no, he hadn't heard a thing, there it was again: some kind of muffled sound, and some kind of dragging and then, louder…
"Yuuri!" Wolfram sounded tired, annoyed and a little out of breath, his voice strained. "Unh! I said 'again'!"
Both Huber and Gwendal stopped walking just then. One could almost say their breaths had been frozen.
"But Wolfram!" It wasn't any consolation that the Maou sounded just as tired as the Fire Elemental. Was he gasping? "I told you! I can't hold it any more!"
"And I'm telling you to not be a wimp and keep on going!"
More of the dragging sounds and yes, there were definitely gasps and groans and when the Maou wailed 'Wolfraaaaaam!', Huber and Gwendal looked at each other – both looked a bit green around the edges but neither of them was ever going to admit or point that out, thank you – and, with just a slight nod, turned around, no more words needed. Sometimes, retreating had as much honor as staying and perhaps even more.
"You wimp!" Wolfram glared with all the force he was capable of to the wimpy form of his fiancé on the floor, still holding as tightly to bench leg as a Goala would do when it found its perfect tree branch. Said force, by the way, was very considerable, so Yuuri held unto the bench even more, thinking that if within Wolfram's Maryoku was the ability to lit things up with his eyes; the bench would go first rather than him. "You need to practice more!"
"We've been practicing for FOUR hours non stop!" he wailed, wondering just how it was possible that after four hours, while he was dirty and sweaty and he hurt in places he didn't even know existed before (his poor, poor back), Wolfram just looked ravishingly disgruntled. "And you've been giving me hell!"
"I was asked to take over your practice while Weller went to take care of some troubles near the border, so we are going to continue until I'm satisfied!" See, it was in moments like that that Yuuri was almost certain that Conrad had some kind of sadistic vein inside him. "And you never complain with him!"
"Yeah, but I don't have to worry that Conrad is going to roast me!" Even before Morgif (who had been quite happy sunbathing after Yuuri had abandoned him to hold unto the bench for dear life) exclaimed a loud 'UUUUUUUH!', Yuuri knew it had been the wrong thing to say. "No, no, Wolfram, I didn't mean that!"
It was too late. Wolfram's fists were already trembling at the words the black haired teenager had said and Yuuri had one second to wonder if the Original King would be as kind to let his family know that he had been turned into ashes before starting to run in search of shelter or Greta, hearing Wolfram's explosion not a second after that.
"YOU CHEATER! How dare you prefer him! YUURI!"