KKM Kiss and Tell

Chapter 1: Yuuri's Decision

Wolfram's jealousy was horribly out of hand, Yuuri decided, wincing as the blonde muscled his lithe blue-jacketed body in between his erstwhile fiancé and the fawning bevy of young ladies from the newly established Shin Makoku Red Cross Auxiliary.

And really, there was no need for Wolf-chan to be like this. It wasn't like he had any plans to choose a new fiancé, was there? Not like he'd chosen the one he had now!

"Oh, now, Wolfram—" Yuuri stuttered, blushing a guilty red under the fierce-eyed stare, though he'd done absolutely nothing wrong recently that he could think of. "This isn't what you think…."

"What I think? When did you ever ask me what I think about this—this silliness?" Wolfram glared at the candy-striped outfits the ladies wore. The little white aprons only barely disguised a fine array of cleavages. "Women who don't know how to defend themselves don't belong on the battlefield!"

Wolfram glared at them, brows beetling at the terribly cutesy picture they made, all gathered together like a posy of pink flowers, harmless as kittens and just about as effective. He hated it when Yuuri let his good sense be overtaken by his rampant teenage male hormones, indulging in such a prurient desire as to gather together the most nubile young Mazoku females on the excuse of civic service and dress them up in some Earth-fantasy anime fanboy-inspired costumes (that was what Weller-kyo called them, at least; not like Wolfram would know the difference!) – so embarassing for a fiancé he barely acknowledged in public! So he wasn't a woman and couldn't compete - so what?!

The Maou sighed heavily under his breath, feeling guiltier by the moment when green eyes turned back to him with painful accusation writ deep in their emerald depths.

Wolfram was a problem – or rather, his perpetual jealousy was.

The ladies of the Auxiliary were all single and young, lovely as rosebuds and just as available for the picking - unfortunately. The sight of them traipsing about Blood Pledge Castle in search of their King generally sent Wolfram into a snit of massive proportions ('picturesque fluff'', he called them, and strode around muttering that they had no business interfering with important military matters and taking up the Maou's precious time). Yuuri, well aware of his fiancé's deeply jealous nature, had always made sure to meet with them without him – as they did insist on reporting to their majesty far more often than really necessary – and preferably when his fiancé was out on the training grounds or far away on some mission. Gunter or Gwendal usually helped him out with that, both as avid as he to keep Wolfram from outright explosion.

It was highly unlucky that he'd finally managed to get caught. The luck gods were definitely pissed at him. Wolfram was obviously about to go off the deep end.

"Yuuri! These women have no reason to be here, galumphing around and getting in the way! We have the ambassadors arriving from Pys Puir coming any minute now!" The green eyes flashed fire and Yuuri grimaced, hunching his shoulders against the inevitable diatribe.

"Or did you forget already?" the blonde sneered as Yuuri put his hands out in supplication, palms up, and then waved them about in a silent plea for calm on the part of his overly-protective betrothed.

"Now, Wolfram, that's hardly the way to greet our guests—"

"Guests!?" shrieked the blonde quietly, his fine eyebrows arching over narrowed eyes. "Since when are they 'guests'? Didn't you give them jobs to do?"

"Oh, well, as to that—"

"Why are they here when they're supposed to be working?" the Mazoku demanded, sending a searing glance at the lovely leader of Yuuri's newest pet project.

"Or, are they merely decorative?" Wolfram's lancing glare of derision could have sliced glass – had there been any nearby. Several of the gently bred young ladies gasped aloud at the insult and Lady Anastasia opened her pink-lipped mouth several times without managing to actually say anything, closing it each time with a decided snap, her face developing an unbecoming red color.

The Maou frowned at the sight, opening and closing his own mouth rapidly like a fish out of water. This was so not his element—where heck were Gunter or Conrad when he needed them?

If possible—and Yuuri now realized it was possible—Wolf-chan assumed an even more irate expression. Darn and double darn! Wolfram just wasn't calming down at all!

Surely, if Yuuri explained slowly and patiently that the Auxiliary existed to provide aid to those harmed in skirmishes with the still-persistent Rebels, succoring the poor unfortunate villagers and townspeople left injured or homeless, Wolf-chan would understand. Yuuri, freshly back from his time on Earth and still in the throes of late adolescence naïveté, had thought it was a great way to get more of the Mazoku involved in his dream of peace – what better way to make friends than to help someone selflessly? And if it was really attractive girls rolling those bandages and toting those supplies, all the better. Everybody loves a pretty girl.

....Except Wolfram.

Hoo boy, this time the stars had conjoined against him. He was doomed: the blonde demon was going to blow a gasket momentarily and then he'd likely be punched or tackled or even hauled away by one ear, something Wolf did when he was particularly annoyed with his erstwhile fiancé. So embarrassing and especially when he was just trying to make a good impression and thank the ladies for their trouble.

"And you - don't you have better ways to spend your time than flirting and avoiding your work?" Wolfram turned back to the silent Maou and hissed, eyes sparking, after making certain he was still positioned between the leader of the vapid pack of floozies and his fiancé. Annoyance at the wimp's complete disregard for personal safety and propriety roared in his ears, making them hot.

"Isn't Gwendal waiting for you?" Wolfram continued nastily, taunting Yuuri with the spectre of piled-up paperwork. "And even more than that, you must know by now that this is far from proper, having them here in the family'sprivate Garden with no one to attend you – it's not even remotely safe, you idiotic wimp! Anybody could surprise you here, you know that! Assassins! Kidnappers! Traitors to the State! And where is Gunter, anyway?" the Mazoku asked suspiciously, his frown intensifying as he glanced about the sunshine-filled space suspiciously, empty but for their little group.

"Wasn't he supposed to be here with you?"

Yuuri flushed and then brightened ever so slightly at the mention of his chief advisor's name, an unusual reaction that made the furious Wolfram even more suspicious.


Wait! Wait, wait, wait! the Demon King thought, casting about for some possible way of making this rapidly deteriorating situation better.

Hadn't Gunter said something recently – something about changing the way he reacted to Wolfram's jealousy? He had to…had to…what was it again? Oh, yes - be positive, be reassuring. That was the way to deal with this problem.

Show that decorative loafer he has nothing to worry about, Heika, Gunter had advised, his face kind and for once entirely nose-bleed-free, and then he'll be sure to calm down. The young Mazoku warrior-prince was only acting like a jealous fishwife because he was nervous, his advisor confided, since Yuuri Heika still didn't seem to grasp quite all the subtle nuances and endless protocols of being a betrothed Royal even after being here three long years. Well, a total of three years, not counting the Shin Makoku year he'd spent on his wonderful homeland. And not that Yuuri Heika was in any way lacking, Gunter had gushed, gabbling on – just innocent in the ways of formal courtship, which was really a very noble trait in these days of Cheri-sama's policy of 'free love.'

Yuuri didn't know about 'noble'. He was a teenager, after all, and Oniisan had those Sim dating games running 24/7. It wasn't like he'd never checked them out, wide-eyed at their vaguely pornographic story-lines and abundantly over-endowed lovelies.

But none of the Sim girls were as pretty as Wolfram….and none of them were as deep and, well, '3D.' Wolf-chan was real person, after all, with feelings and dreams and faults and stuff. He was a little on the dramatic side, true, but he wasn't a whiner when it came to what really bothered him. Yuuri had wished more than Wolf-chan would actually bitch a little more often if that's what it took to make him feel better about things.

He didn't like it when Wolf-chan felt jealous of him. It obviously made his fiancé miserable.

…And he'd never thought he'd even think that, so it kinda proved how far he'd come. Not that he actually wanted to think about 'how far he'd come'. Nope, not at all.

…Still, Wolf-chan was equally tight-lipped when it came to his personal happiness, too. He didn't talk a lot about the things that made him really happy—he just was, in a sparkly kind of way. And it was true, what Gunter had said. Wolfram was always his most charming self when Yuuri took the time to pay him some attention and show him those little courtesies the official Fiancé of the Maou was entitled to – a hand at his elbow when they were being formally introduced, the honor of the first dance at one of Cheri's innumerable balls, a half-hour carved out of Yuuri's hectic day to spend picnicking with Wolfram and Greta. Even an afternoon of hard practice on the training fields or a quiet meal hastily shared in the Library when the Maou had to study to pass Gwendal's pop quizzes seemed to do the trick. Wolf-chan's habitual seriousness disappeared altogether, replaced by a content and easy grin or the occasional flash of mischievous good humor. He would laugh and joke and even refrain from calling his fiancé too nasty names—and when he did use them, Yuuri could always tell they were meant fondly.

Oh, and little gifts made him happy, too, Yuuri remembered, especially the ones brought back from Earth by his fiancé the Maou. Wolf-chan was sweetly shy when he received whatever trinket or treat Yuuri found himself taking back to Shin Makoku, flushing adorably and hiding emerald eyes gone soft as moss. Yuuri definitely admitted he enjoyed that version of Wolfram best, although it only seemed to happen when he consciously went out of his way to make it so. His arrogant, pushy, jealous-as-hell fiancé generally took things far too seriously for Yuuri's easygoing, amiable nature – but if he could do a little more - or maybe a lot more - to make Wolf-chan happier with life, Yuuri'd be glad to.

Really, he would. Wolfram von Bielefeld was important to him. Maybe he couldn't quite articulate 'how' or even 'how much' but it didn't really matter, did it? They were engaged. Fact of life.

"Yuuri! Are you even listening to me?!"

Plus, he kind of owed Wolfram. The Mazoku lordling was the most fiercely loyal, honest, open and passionate friend he'd ever had. He hadn't liked Gunter's very subtle insinuation that he was the one jerking Wolfram around. Wolf deserved more than that. They probably would've ended up getting married anyway, Yuuri acknowledged, if only because he'd never be able to find anybody else even remotely as…as suitable as Wolfram.

It made it all a little easier when he thought of it that way. Gunter was right: a new spin on things could make even the hardest of tasks seem easy. Yeesh, even Murata-kun was right…well, of course, he was right, 'cause he was the Sage, but he definitely wasn't always right about, um, 'personal matters' like this – the pervert!

But, getting back to the current, slightly more urgent situation – ok, way more urgent! - how could he be both positive and reassuring in this situation? Wolf-chan hated it when girls crowded around the young King – he even disliked it when handsome noblemen made their bows and flourishes – and he wasn't liking the ladies of the Red Cross Auxiliary one darn bit. Steam was practically trickling from his flared nostrils and his pretty face was creased with anger.


And pain. There was bitter twist to that fine mouth that disturbed Yuuri more than a little. He'd noticed it entirely too often lately and usually only when there was an attractive stranger in their midst. And there were always attractive strangers—these Mazoku were all very attractive, darn it! Just look at Conrad! Gunter! Even Gwendal—not to mention Lady Cheri! Hoo boy! Hot stuff!

Maybe Wolf felt threatened by attractive people? Yuuri wondered, tilting his head as he swallowed hard and tried to think of good, practical responses for dealing with a seasoned fire-wielding warrior gone a little nutso. Those were flames jetting out from Wolf-chan's manicured fingertips, weren't they?

"Well, you see, Wolf-chan—"

"Don't call me that, you wimp! Stop trying to weasel out of it, you pathetic excuse for a Maou! How dare you try and hide from the Ambassador of Pys Puir? Irresponsible, evasive, double-dealing, cheating wimp!" A steady stream of increasingly puerile name-calling followed the second 'wimp' and Yuuri finally tuned it out, figuring he might as well let Wolf-chan run out of steam, since there was no stopping him now.

…Not that the blonde had anything to worry about in the 'attractive' department , but Yuuri's own reactions (he did have to admit he was a little menkui) to those various 'pretty people' might've resulted in Wolf-chan being a little down at the mouth in the past. He had been vaguely aware of that here and there, but he'd brushed it off pretty much or blamed it on Wolfram's snotty vanity. But Wolfram wasn't snotty and he wasn't vain – and it had been a very long time now that Wolf had been jealous—almost from the very first moment they'd met.

Years, then. Maybe Wolf-chan really meant it? And maybe it was all his fault that Wolfram lost his cool so often? Yuuri did have to admit he was a little lackadaisical – ok, the concept of marriage should make any normal, red-blooded Japanese teenager run screaming, right? Right! -- when it came to their official relationship – they had time, lots of it, or so he'd thought. Why rush into it when he knew it was going to happen anyway? Why rush at all when they'd both live to some ridiculously long age and they didn't even need to settle down right away? But maybe…maybe that silent hesitation on his part hurt the soft inner bits of Wolfram, the parts he hid from everybody so they wouldn't be bruised or trampled on. Or not so 'silent' – it wasn't like he'd actually kept his objections to himself.

Yeah, he could've hurt Wolf-chan's feelings…could even be hurting them now, unknowing.

But he does trust me a little more than he used to, at least, Yuuri thought, a ghost of smile glancing across his mobile mouth. He must know I'm here for good this time. Just.. not so much with things like this.

'This' was the crowd of girls, wide-eyed and staring, whispering amongst themselves already about Wolfram's embarrassing little show. Yuuri's brow wrinkled in minor irritation as he watched them. It was high time he did something about the situation. And Wolf had to be annoyed with him for forgetting even the most basic of Mazoku Court courtesies – the Introduction. The blonde was a stickler for convention.

"Wolfram von Bielefeld," Yuuri said in his best I-am-the-Maou voice, putting out his hand to grasp at the blonde's sleeve and tug it. Wolfram stopped mid-rant, his green eyes going wide with surprise. He stared at the rabble of girls milling in front of him and wondered suddenly just how badly he'd embarrassed himself before them.

"Wolfram, allow me to introduce to you the Ladies of the Shin Makoku Official Red Cross Auxiliary Brigade. This is Anastasia von Schlepping, the Commander-in-Chief." The lady blushed at her name and stood at attention in a feeble imitation of Wolfram's usual rigid stance.

A blonde head whipped sharply in Yuuri's direction, revealing a gorgeously handsome face (prettier than any girl, Yuuri thought proudly) touched with angry confusion and a distinct hint of shame. Wolfram and Anastasia had known one another for ages, practically since babyhood, and he hadn't liked her the entire time he'd known her. She's always teased him; he'd always ignored her. Maybe Yuuri didn't realize they were already well aware of one another in a most uncomfortable, prickly kind of way?

The Maou grinned winsomely at his puzzled fiancé, oblivious of any dark, swirling undercurrents and absolutely determined to try being totally positive and reassuring for once. Besides, the time he'd done this before, Wolf-chan had shut right up and looked really happy. He liked Wolf-chan 'happy'.


Wolfram glanced down at the hand on his coat sleeve, hesitant and suddenly very unsure. Did Yuuri want him to do something unpleasant? Escort these wenches and Icky Anastasia into Blood Pledge, perhaps? Make 'nice' with them? The young King only ever used that cajoling tone of voice on him when he wanted Wolfram to do something he didn't really want to – was he going to get stuck with the Fluff Brigade all afternoon and be humiliated further? They were already laughing at him as it was – he could feel the pitying glances and the heightened interest of young ladies on the prowl for a suitable mate – and Icky Anastasia would be sure to tear him into little shreds the moment Yuuri turned his back. Women were scary that way.

The blonde shuddered, the faintest flinch of emotion, and clenched his fists, willing their attention away from his recent outburst. He glanced up and above their shiny heads, his gaze flitting across the battlements, the wind-flung banners, the blue, blue sky – anywhere but the girls staring google-eyed at him; anywhere but Yuuri's face, which was sure to be frowning in his direction.

He really shouldn't have said anything – he'd tried so hard this time and still his mouth overtook his brain, lashing out with petty, unfounded accusations when he'd meant to keep them all stuffed safely away. He knew Yuuri wasn't cheating – how could he, when he was so busy running Shin Makoku? There was no time for Yuuri to have a real social life yet…maybe later, when things settled down. Maybe then, and then Wolfram would have something real to be jealous of. And he didn't look forward to it, no. Not when it would mean the inevitable destruction of their 'accidental' engagement.

Green eyes swung back down to earth, skimming over the shining heads of the Auxiliary, still carefully avoiding the black-haired, black-clad youth beside him.

He blinked hard at the hand that still clutched his sleeve, considering what his heart would do when the engagement was dissolved. It was strong and broad, Yuuri's hand, with long, lean fingers ending in crescent-moon tipped nails. He knew it well, having held it now and again, having wished that it - and its mate - would find their contrary way to his lonely body one of those endless nights in Yuuri's bedroom. There'd been a time when he wished it would hold onto him forever, though that really didn't seem very likely now.

Tanned fingers gripped blue uniform fabric even more firmly and jerked the unsuspecting blonde Mazoku closer at last, startling Wolfram out of his reverie, and sending him into an ungraceful little stumble. He flinched when the hand left his sleeve and the arm attached slid deftly around him, steadying him and pulling him close enough to feel the heat of Yuuri's body right through his regal black Royal garb.

"Ah!" Wolfram gasped involuntarily, and felt the blood rush to his ears, his face, and his throat in a rising tide he couldn't quell. So embarassing when Yuuri touched him – he couldn't hide the unquenched longing within him no matter how hard he tried.

Wolfram wrenched his wretchedly adoring gaze down immediately to focus on his booted toes, mired in confusion and the enthralling roar of his own unsteady heartbeat, completely unaware that his green eyes bloomed golden fire at Yuuri's touch, gilding the emerald.

"And this, dear Miss von Schlepping, is my fiancé, Wolfram von Bielefeld," the Maou continued, his voice bright and steady, his dark head nodding familiarly to the blonde one beside it. Nervous as his prize stallion in a thunderstorm, Wolf tightened his jaw and risked a glance up at his companion, a slight lift of inherent pride angling his pointed chin. They were still nearly the same height, he and Yuuri, after Yuuri's recent growth spurt. They were well-matched again, at least physically, though his uncertain heart knew that they didn't match at all. Wolfram's lips parted slightly as if to silently protest Yuuri's claim – Why did Yuuri even bother? – and the very tip of a pink tongue peeped out provocatively as he ran it across their sudden dryness.

Yuuri hardly ever referred to him that way – he no longer even expected the word fiancé to ever fall deliberately from that mouth, and certainly not in that voice, so sure and proud. This must be some cruel mockery – a joke between the Royal Auxiliary and the Maou; a new act Yuuri was putting on at Gunter's request or Gwendal's threatening - or perhaps Yuuri was only making use of their formal relationship to ease them both out of a potentially embarrassing situation here and now, which was far more likely, now that he thought about it. How sickening to realize that it was he who had created this embarassing situation. How kind of Yuuri to cover for him. Wolfram winced and closed his eyes, shutting out the awful thought of Yuuri needing to be kind.

He was so lost in distaste over his 'accidental' title—'Fiancé'? What 'fiancé' when Yuuri never once alluded to an actual marriage? When he never really intended to go through with it, even if Gwendal threatened him with some sort of elder brotherly doom-by-homemade-plushie-suffocation? Even if Weller-kyo told him to? The hated engagement existed now only to scare away unsuitable suitors, Wolf believed; like a mask to frighten ill-behaved children; it was exactly as the Sage said – he was around merely to serve his King with the distraction of his presence, nothing more— that he nearly missed the significance of firm lips pressing gently and insistently against his own–soft and warm and a little damp from his own escaped saliva. They slid off almost immediately – Wolf wondered if he'd dreamed it – and he blinked rapidly, as if to clear his vision.

"Yuu—?" The blonde only got one syllable out before his jaw was grasped quite firmly with those strong, purposeful fingers and Yuuri's smiling mouth returned, this time lingering long enough to make the girls gasp aloud and 'ooh' and 'ahhh' with romantic envy.


Wolf closed his eyes once more, shutting them out, sinking bonelessly against the band of steel at his back. His brain squirmed uneasily at the unreality of the situation, struggling to keep up with his rapidly heating body. Yuuri had never done this before! What to think? What to do? – so sweet, that brush of smooth damp; so warm that he would melt into a puddle if his fiancé continued.

"My fiancé Wolfram and I will be happy to escort you ladies to your carriages," Yuuri smiled, raising his head a very long moment later and keeping the dazed Mazoku firmly at his side in a show of solidarity that should handily spawn a great deal of very helpful gossip. He grinned as a red-faced Anastasia hurriedly dropped a hasty curtsy and then practically ran for the stables, her sisters-in-mercy galloping right behind her.

"No need, Yuuri Heika!" she called back cheerfully, glancing over her elegant shoulder for a last glimpse of 'boys in love'. Oh, my! Time to switch the bets she had or she'd definitely be losing money!

"I'm sure you and your fiancé have much better things to do than take care of the likes of us! Please continue - we're perfectly fine, unescorted – don't worry!" Anastasia winked, a twitch in her eye that made her appear rather more experienced than Yuuri expected from a winsome young thing who looked to be only in her 'teens. She was probably in her 'eighties, though, just like Wolf-chan. Appearances were very deceiving here, especially when it came to people's ages.

The thought struck him that Wolf-chan must be experienced, too, having reached his majority decades ago. Upon consideration, Yuuri didn't like that, so he tucked it back in the far corner of his mind again and concentrated on the sight of scantily-clad girls running through a bed of flowers (ooh! Cheri-sama wasn't going to happy!) and the still breathless and stunning blonde tucked warmly against his one side.

A flurry of delighted giggles followed Anastasia's knowing wink and some of the other young ladies also turned back to wave and wink meaningfully in the direction of their King and his promised Consort. They bustled away finally, candy-stripes billowing in the breeze, their pretty lips already busy figuring the new odds. Someone would have to contact Dorcas, to be sure.

Yuuri dusted his mental hands of them triumphantly, glad of a good day's work. That should show the scoffers that Wolfram von Bielefeld was a most precious part of his Royal entourage and his stuck-on-protocol fiancé should positively agree – hadn't he always wanted his status as Fiancé made crystal-clear to absolutely everyone?

Public displays of affection were positive and reassuring, weren't they?

Wolfram actually barely noticed the Auxiliary's departure, slumped against the young King's shoulder, his delightfully blushing face hidden by the black. His head was spinning and he felt oddly sick to his stomach – frightened and terrified and insanely joyful, all at once, swallowing back a great ball of pulsing emotion that made his chest tight and his breathing wispy. He had never expected Yuuri to kiss him willingly – had given up so long ago it wasn't even amusing. If they ever married (and deep in his flinching heart he knew they wouldn't); if they ever married, it would be in name only. Yuuri wanted a girl. Yuuri didn't feel the way he felt. Never had; never would. There was, very simply, no hope for that. No hope for him. He could only do his duty and be grateful for the chance to remain at his beloved Maou's side, acting as he always did so as not to worry his King unduly. Yuuri had better things to do than feel concern about the state of his 'accidental' fiancé's heart. Much better; much more important in the long run than a silly little ex-Prince with a King-sized crush.

Wolfram was just happy to have Yuuri back in this world. His world— the world that needed Yuuri desperately. He wouldn't do anything to endanger that, even if it cost him his own happiness. Having Yuuri here in Shin Makoku, fiancé or not, was Wolfram's happiness.

Aberration – that soul shattering kiss had been an aberration. Hormones; a sudden outbreak of wimpishness; a 'brain fart', as the Sage sometimes (very oddly) called weird things that people did without good reason. His wimp of a fiancé obviously wasn't thinking straight. Or he was – too straight. Or something. Something odd—something that meant nothing; that's all that was.

Wolfram shook his head at it, not comprehending.


The blonde raised his chin proudly. He couldn't stay like this for much longer – Yuuri would step back any second now, letting him go. Better to do that himself right this minute; show the Maou his fiancé-in-name-only wasn't expecting a continuation or a cuddle or anything else, for that matter. He wasn't so weak, after all. He wouldn't stoop so low as to take advantage when Yuuri obviously had no clue as to what he had done.

The Maou was acting weirdly pleased with himself, Wolfram noticed, practically patting himself on the back, black eyes sparkling with boyish mischief. Wolf's gaze narrowed and his back became subtly straighter as he finally caught on.

So, Yuuri had meant to do that. He had thought that was it. His transparent wimp of a politically unsubtle fiancé clearly believed he'd saved the day with that little act of loving kindness– and perhaps he had. Certainly, they'd forgotten all about the slew of embarrassing and downright rude words Wolfram had just screamed at his fiancé-in-name-only. But the girls would still gossip about the Unexpected Kiss that just happened right under their pointy little noses and then it would be heard all around Blood Pledge soon enough, humiliating them all and making Yuuri horribly uncomfortable with him again as soon as he realized. He didn't want that, Wolfram realized, frowning. So much better to have Yuuri treat him honestly as he always did – as a friend, an ally. Nothing more.

He'd firmly ignore this little incident, Wolfram decided, brush it off as the social evasion Yuuri had kindly meant it to be. It was the only thing he could do. Talking about it would be worse than emotional suicide; having Yuuri admit out loud that it meant nothing would slay him as surely as any assassin's blade.

The proud young demon cleared his throat, and swept a careless hand over his immaculate sleeve, wiping away imaginary lint in a stalwart effort to present a calm, collected face to his betrothed.

Like Conrad does, Wolfram thought, a little hysterically. In the future he'd try to be much more like Conrad, always cool and smiling. Yuuri would probably prefer that. He admired Weller-kyo; valued him highly.

"We should r-return, w-wimp."

Stupid him, for still having a lump in his throat. He cleared it again and continued with steely determination. There was protocol to follow here. Yuuri needed to pay attention.

"Your important guests from Pys Puir are probably arrived by now and you need to be in the Great Hall to officially greet them. Stop wasting time lollygagging around in the garden and come in, Yuuri," Wolfram commanded, his voice admirably steady. "They're waiting for you."

Wolfram turned on his heel, pushed the flop of honey blonde hair off his brow impatiently and marched forward, back to reality. Yuuri's brow crinkled in puzzlement and consternation as he dutifully followed after, matching his pace to the long-legged stride of the ex-Prince preceding him.

Wasn't Wolfram going to say something? Anything? Yuuri didn't expect a 'thank you' precisely, but it would've been nice if the Mazoku would've at least acknowledged the kiss; maybe smiled or something, or looked a little bit pleased. He had been both positive and reassuring, hadn't he?

Hadn't he?