Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou or any of its characters. This piece makes no money and is intended for entertainment only.

Title: Brotherly Concern

Author: Green Sail

Characters: Yuuri, Shori. Mentions of Yuuri/Wolfram.

Summery: Yuuri has forgotten to mention something to his brother. Shori is concerned. Deeply, concerned.

Warning: Mentions of Shounen-ai. Light swearing.


Yuuri sat on his bed. At his feet lay a large pile of socks. With a look of distaste, he picked out a pair, folded them together, and dropped them into a basket. Socks. He was the king of a whole country and still his mother made him fold his own socks.

How very unfair.

Tapping his chin, Yuuri wondered what would happen if Wolfram were ever to catch him doing laundry. He tilted his head, a black sock swinging from his fingers. Hmmm. He imagined there would probably be a bit of a commotion.

Yuuri snickered, envisioning Wolfram, that look of pure distain plastered all over his face, being told in no uncertain terms that as a member of the Shibuya household, he would be required to fold his own socks from that point on.

That expression alone would almost be worth any tantrums. Almost.

He had managed to get though more than half of the pile before a knock sounded at his door. Yuuri frowned. Wolfram didn't knock. Yuuri wasn't even entirely sure if he understood the concept of knocking. His mother never knocked either. Yuuri knew for certain that 'knock' was not in her vocabulary. His father was out. Yuuri's eyes narrowed.

"Yes?" he said, trying his best to sound like he was busy doing something really important – like taxes. Only Yuuri didn't really know how to do those because Gwendal always did them for him. Still, it didn't hurt to try. "Shori, I'm kind of busy."

"I'm coming in," Shori said, voice muffled through the door. Yuuri rolled his eyes and tried to look as occupied as possible as the door swung open and Shori stepped into the room, clutching a brown paper bag.

Yuuri eyed the bag, his socks coming to rest on his lap. "What's that?" he asked, against his better judgment.

Shori didn't answer. Instead, he walked forward to take a seat next to Yuuri on the bed. The springs creaked a little. Absurdly, Yuuri wondered why he didn't have a futon like the rest of Japan.

"Uh, Shori," he said again. "What—"

"Onii-chan," Shori interrupted.


"Call me Onii-chan."

"Yeah, right, okay. Shori, what do you want?"

"I said—"

"Fine. Onii-chan, what do you want?"

Shori looked down at him. Even though Yuuri had grown a bit over the past few years, Shori was still taller. Yuuri couldn't help but pin this as vaguely unfair.

"We need to talk," Shori said.

Yuuri blinked. Talk? What was there to talk about?

Shori's dark eyes bored into his, and Yuuri suddenly felt very cold.

Oh no, this couldn't possibly be about—? But he had told his mother specifically to wait until he'd had a chance to talk to Shori himself! So there was no way that . . .

"So, I hear you're getting married."

Yuuri winced. On the other hand, his mother had never been great at keeping her mouth shut. Yuuri supposed he ought to consider himself lucky that she hadn't had the news posted in the paper first thing this morning.

. . . Although, now that he thought about it, his father had snatched the newspaper off the breakfast table rather more quickly than usual. But that could mean any number of things, couldn't it?

"To Wolfram," Shori clarified, bringing Yuuri's mind back to the present.

Well really. Who else would it be?

"Yeah," said Yuuri, doing his best to sound relaxed, despite the dryness of his mouth. His face felt really hot. "Yeah, we're uh . . . yeah." He turned a challenging eye to Shori. "What about it?"

"Hmm," Shori said, a worried frown forming at the corners of his mouth. "I see."

Yuuri resisted the urge to stuff a sock down his brother's throat. "See what?"

Shori shook his head. "Yuu-chan, are you sure about this?"

Yuuri blinked. "Huh?"

"Wolfram isn't, say, forcing you to go through with this, is he?" Shori leaned in closer, glasses flashing. "He's not doing anything underhanded, is he? I really wish you would have consulted me before agreeing to something like this."

Yuuri thought back to the events of the previous night. He flushed a little more. While there might have been a bit of force involved, it certainly wasn't the type that Shori was implying.

"No," he said, his voice a touch higher than normal. "No blackmail or anything. I'm one hundred percent agreeable. Totally."

Shori's frown did not waver. He placed an arm over Yuuri's shoulders in what Yuuri presumed was supposed to be some sort of gesture of brotherly support. "Yuu-chan," he said. "If you don't want to go through with this, I'll battle the entirety of Shin Makoku to get you out of the contract."

Yuuri twitched. Although the notion that his brother was willing to fight for his honor was kind of sweet in an irritating sort of way, the image of Shori and Wolfram dueling over his person was one he'd rather not think about.

"Uh, thanks Shori," Yuuri managed. "But I'm actually pretty sure I want to go through with it."

Shori gazed at him. "Yuu-chan," he said. "If you don't love him, then I won't let you marry him."

"Uh, no, that's really okay, Shori," Yuuri said, getting the mild impression that Shori wasn't listening to a word he said. "Really, I—"

"I knew you would end up doing something like this," Shori muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Yuuri, you can't just marry people to make them happy. You have to be happy too. God, I wish you had talked with me about this before you went and popped the question. What a mess." He cupped Yuuri's chin in his hands. "Yuuri, if you don't love him—"

"Actually," Yuuri said, hearing his voice as if it belonged to a complete stranger. "I really am kind of in love with him."

As soon as the words were out, Yuuri froze. Heat crept over his cheeks and the back of his neck. He looked down at the heap of unpaired socks. Automatically, he reached out his hand, grabbed two at random, and folded them into a tiny ball.

His brother; his unflappable, dependable, overprotective brother; stared at him, eyes at least a half a centimeter wider than usual, too surprised to even question Yuuri's wisdom in falling in love with the male prince of a foreign country.

There was a very long silence in which Yuuri briefly pondered the pros and cons of burrowing down to the bottom of the sock pile to live out the rest of his days as a human mole.

"Hmm," Shori finally said, interrupting the tail end of Yuuri's mental calculations on the probability of surviving for more than a few hours under the weight of all that footwear. He pursed his lips, looking like he was either trying to swallow pure lemon extract or force something out he'd rather not say. "Yuuri, you— you really do love him, then?" He squared his shoulders. "This isn't some kind of stunt to make everyone else happy?"

Yuuri felt like banging his head against the wall. Wasn't his brother supposed to be a genius or something? How long was it going to take to get this through his skull? "Stunt?" he said. He kept his hands tightly in his lap to prevent any undignified flailing. "Shori, do you think we would've, you know, gone and, you know," he gestured vaguely, ". . . a stunt?"

Shori raised an eyebrow. "So you love him, then?"

Yuuri choked, slamming his fist down on the bed, flushing even more. "Yes, I love him! God, don't interrogate me so much! Do you know how embarrassing it is to say this stuff out loud?"

"I'm just concerned for you, Yuu-chan," Shori said, placing a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "I want to make sure you're not doing this just to satisfy others. I would never allow it to take place if that were the case."

"Uh," Yuuri said, trying to figure out if there was a part of that statement he should be offended by.

"So you love him. That's acceptable. Have you had sexual relations with him?"

Yuuri sputtered. "Shori! You—!"

In all honesty, what Yuuri meant to say was a very dignified, that's none of your business, you pervert! So naturally what came out was,

". . . Of course we have sexual relations, you idiot! Hot, gay, sexual relations! Because we're lovers! Fairy-boy lovers! And that's what we're supposed to do! And how can you even say 'sexual relations,' with a straight face anyway, you perv—"

And oh, he had said way, way, too much. Yuuri snapped his jaw shut and buried his face in his arms with a groan, fervently hoping that the neighbors hadn't heard him through the open window.

Shori may or may not have gaped for a full three seconds before schooling his features back into their usual composed state. Yuuri wasn't exactly sure because he only caught the final half a second after gathering the courage to peek out from behind his elbow.

Shori crossed and uncrossed his legs. Adjusted his glasses. "Hmm," he said. "I see." More glasses adjusting. "That concerns me."

"How in the hell," Yuuri muttered into his forearm, fighting for calm "Does that concern you?"

"It could be dangerous," Shori said. He folded his arms. "I don't want you in harm's way."

"Dangerous?" Yuuri squeaked, torn somewhere between rage and amusement. "Shori, are you serious?"

"So, Yuu-chan," Shori said,completely ignoring him,"you're lucky. Just in case it was something like this, I went out and got something for you." He reached for the brown bag resting on top of the coverlet and deposited it in Yuuri's lap. "Here."

With much resignation and no small amount of apprehension, Yuuri peaked inside – and promptly turned the exact shade of an overripe tomato.

"Shori!" he said, voice strangled. He shut the bag. "These are—! And this—! Condoms? Lubricant? Safe sex paraphernalia?" he waved several pamphlets about, reading off at the same time, "How to please your man: twenty positions you've never considered? Shori! What is this?"

"I also placed a copy of the gay Kama Sutra on hold under your name at the library," Shori said, "It should be ready to pick up in a few days."

"You did what?" Yuuri howled, turning towards him. "That sort of stuff goes on my permanent record!"

"I don't want you to hurt yourself," Shori said, taking off his glasses and polishing them on his shirtsleeve.

Yuuri stared at him, eye twitching, and managed through gritted teeth, ". . . hurt . . . myself . . .?"

"Well as I'm sure you have become very aware," Shori said, the faintest of dry touches to his tone, "gay sex does tend towards being—"

"Shori!" Yuuri shrieked, leaping up from his seat on the bed and pointing a shaking finger at his brother, the tips of his ears flaming. "You will not finish that sentence!"

"—Slightly painful, if you do not prepare for it properly and—"


"—I would think it would be much—"


"—And I wasn't really sure if you would be entirely comfortable with—"


"—Which is why I got both brands, you'll see, and—"

"Shori!" Yuuri whimpered, sliding down to the floor to bury his face in his hands. Shori peered down at him.

"Are you all right, Yuu-chan?" he asked, blinking, still holding what Yuuri now knew to be two competing brands of lube.

"Fine," Yuuri wheezed, wondering just how long he had until his hearing and sight vanished as a result of the trauma. "Just, ah, just a little, ah—" he floundered, then stood and pointed an accusing finger at his brother. "God, Shori, do you have to be so open about everything? I mean . . ." he swallowed, eyes darting back and forth. "Ew."

Shori stared at him. Slowly, he settled his hands into his lap and leaned forward. "Yuuri," he said. "There's really nothing to be embarrassed about. I will love you no matter who you chose to spend your life with. And I know, that when two people love each other very much there comes a time when sexual—"

"Gyah!" Yuuri cried, clutching his ears. No. This could not be happening. There was no way this was happening. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted to three, then opened them again.

"It's a natural urge, Yuu-chan!" Shori was saying, waving his hands around, still holding the lube. "And when the time comes for you to fulfill your natural urges I want you to be as safe and—"

Yuuri bolted, his brother's cries of "Wait, Yuuri!" and "We're not done talking yet!" bouncing off the walls after him. He paused midway through his race through the kitchen as the phone rang. Gingerly, he lifted it up and pressed it to his ear.

"This is the Tokyo Library with a message for Shibuya, Yuuri-san. You have one item being held at this time. Your copy of The Gay Kama Sutra will be held until—"

Yuuri dropped the telephone like a snake and sped out the door barefoot, his brother's calls still audible down the street.


When he reached the corner, Yuuri leaned against the walls of the convenience store and allowed himself a breather and a small smile. The Kama Sutra. Ha. Like that was any match for the kind of books Wolfram had access to.