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Adorable	By : antilogicgirl Category: +G to L > Kyou Kara Maou Views: 4166 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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ADVANCE WARNING: Shounen-ai, fluffy boys' love romance thing.

A/N: Hello everyone. I am sorry for the long wait. This has taken me longer than expected, but I am quite close to finishing, I think. Anyway, you should like this chapter. It�s pretty cute. Yuuri is very worried about Wolfram, so he is trying to take care of him and get medicine. Hurray for Yuuri! And I'm very sorry if anyone thought that Yuuri was being unkind in the last chapter. He was not. And as to him needing a beating, just read this chapter, then tell me if you think he needs one.

Legal Stuffiness: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou or any of the characters therein. Tomo Takabayashi, owner.

Adorable
Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Panic Stricken

�What do you mean she�s not here?!� Yuuri�s voice rose to a near shout, and G�nter flinched. He had never seen His Majesty this way. Running around the castle like a madman, his coat undone, hair sticking up in all directions and a wild look in his eyes, he was very unlike the Maou G�nter had come to know.
�Please, Your Majesty�if you will tell me what is wrong, perhaps I can help.� He lay a hand gently on the boy�s slim shoulder, and felt him shaking. Yuuri slumped under his hand.

For a long moment, the boy�s dark head was bent, his shoulders shaking with agitation, then he spoke again. �Wolfram�s very sick, G�nter�and I think it�s my fault!� He looked back up again, black eyes now brimming with tears that were certainly angry ones, and most likely directed at himself. G�nter�s heart broke just watching him. White clad arms encircled the young man, pulling him into a comforting embrace. �He�� Yuuri�s voice trembled, ��he�s burning up�he was fine before�but then��

�Shhh. We�ll find a way to cure his fever.� G�nter said as he rubbed soothing circles over Yuuri�s back. When His Majesty looked up at him again, he did seem a bit calmer. After a few moments, G�nter had to let him go. Some very�impertinent thoughts were crossing his mind, and it would not do for him to remain so close. He might get it into his head that it was all right to act on those ideas.

�We will?� the young king asked, adding a small sniffle at the end of the question that made him far more than adorable.

G�nter nodded, smiling. �Gisela may not be here, but she taught me a thing or two about her healing herbs. There are a few kinds we can try to bring his fever down.� The gratitude he saw in those black eyes was astounding. �Come quickly, now.�

The path to the medicinal gardens was winding, and long. Yuuri fidgeted with his coat, which he had taken off. G�nter walked so calmly in the face of a crisis that he was a little jealous. �G�nter?� The taller man looked back over his left shoulder, violet eyes fixing him with a curious gaze. It was amazing how G�nter could look at Yuuri and make him feel comfortable, but then there were times when he felt as if he were being examined. This was one of those times. �Shouldn�t we go a bit faster?� Just as he said this, he tripped on a rock, falling forward.
Slender yet strong arms caught him. G�nter laughed, and said, �No. I think this is a good pace.� The implication, of course, was that he would fall flat on his face if they went any faster. Of course, his face went pink when he realized the position he was in�pressed against G�nter�s chest, with the taller man�s arms around him�and quickly righted himself. When they finally arrived at the garden, which was sheltered among trees on the edge of the hill�s slope, G�nter moved among the rows of herbs, picking one or two leaves from several different types of plants, then pulling up something that looked like a green carrot.

Yuuri looked doubtfully at the handful of plant pieces. How was that supposed to make Wolfram better? But, he decided in the end to trust G�nter, and followed the man back to the castle. Upon arriving, they proceeded directly to G�nter�s personal quarters. Yuuri was surprised to find that there was an immense, almost photo-realistic portrait of himself on the wall. Apparently, along with his accomplished studies, Yuuri�s advisor was also a much better artist than Wolfram, whose work looked like a poor imitation of Picasso�s paintings. There were, as well, many other oddments lying about. A globe sat next to a stack of history books taller than G�nter was himself, and there were two small tables that held scrolls and papers that he was meant to review.

At a large table, there stood an immense mortar and pestle. G�nter tossed the things he�d gotten from the garden into the mortar, then took the pestle in both hands. After grinding at the stuff for more than five minutes, he scooped out the resulting paste with a wooden spoon. �One teaspoon of this steeped in a cup of hot water once every four hours is what he needs. You�ll have to make him drink.� Once the odd grayish paste was placed in a waxed paper envelope, Yuuri thanked G�nter before taking his leave.

Yuuri stopped, his hand on the door. G�nter had taken hold of his shirtsleeve. The man�s voice was low and strange near his ear. �If you need me for anything, Your Majesty, I will be here.� As strange as G�nter�s voice had been, it became more so around the word �anything�, which made Yuuri�s eyes widen. Why did that sound like an innuendo? Swallowing hard, he nodded and pulled the door open. No, it was only his imagination. It had to be.

Yuuri hurried down the corridor, a large tray held in front of him. The maids had been highly alarmed at his wish to do this himself, but he had brooked no refusals. They provided him with the teapot, a spoon, a small bowl, napkins, and a kettle of hot water, but he had ordered them to stay well away from his chambers unless he specifically called for them. He had, more than once, seen them snooping around, and it was his general feeling that those women placed bets on his love life�or lack thereof.
Now, as he neared his room, he heard a strange sound. It was similar to the noise Morgif made when he was depressed. Confused, he pushed the door to the room inward. He started at what he saw. Pillows littered the floor again, and Wolfram was tangled in the sheets, his hair plastered to his forehead and nightgown soaked with sweat. He was moaning, and sounded as if he were in pain. �Good Lord�� Yuuri breathed, and immediately set the tray down on the nearest flat surface. When he neared the bed, he found that Wolfram looked paler than before. He made a choked sound, letting out the grief he felt at seeing his friend so ill.

Green eyes opened, looking dazed, and focused intently upon him. �Where�where did you go, Yuuri? I thought you were gone forever�� Tears began falling down Wolfram�s pale cheeks, his eyes bright with the fever gripping his body. �I thought�I thought you were never�never going to come back!� Something in Yuuri�s chest tightened. Seeing the usually stern young man crying this way was almost too much. As he straightened the pillows and bedcovers, his motions rather mechanical, weak hands grasped his coat sleeve the way a small child would. �Don�t leave me,� Wolfram�s fever had worked him into a state of panic, his eyes wide and voice trembling even more than his hands were. �Please Yuuri. Don�t leave me alone again.�

An image flashed before his eyes�of Wolfram on that day when it had been certain he could never return. Was he remembering that day as well? Yuuri thought of how his insides had crushed in on themselves at the very thought of never seeing any of his friends again, of never being able to have a catch with Conrad�or try to sway Gwendel�s opinion, fend off G�nter�s affection�or laugh at Yozak�s cross-dressing tendencies. And then, there was the fact that he would never see Wolfram. But that memory was brutally pushed aside, and he shoved it as far away into the back of his mind as he possibly could.

A sudden knife of sadness twisted in his heart and tears pricked at the corners of Yuuri�s eyes, but he blinked them away. Wolfram�s fever was talking. This was not anything that the blond man would ever say if he were lucid, and he allowed himself to hold onto that thought while he propped Wolfram up on the pillows again and repeatedly pried those grasping hands away from his arms. Yuuri told himself that no, any feelings that Cecile Von Spitzburg�s youngest son had would always be tempered by the disgust he felt for Yuuri�s softer nature. Breathing deeply, he staved off his own sadness and confusion as he prepared the tea the way G�nter had instructed. His silence was apparently unnerving his patient, for Wolfram continued to talk, asking questions and rattling on about how he did not want to be left alone.

�Please say something Yuuri�you�re angry with me, aren�t you?� A pitiful sound came from Wolfram�s throat as he reached for the front of Yuuri�s coat, fingers digging into the dark fabric desperately. His voice came softly now, almost a whisper. �Don�t be angry. I didn�t mean those things. I never mean them. Please don�t be angry�� Again, he began to cry, quiet sobs escaping him as he begged over and over again for Yuuri not to be angry with him for what he had said earlier. Finally, Yuuri could no longer stand it. He sat on the edge of the bed and took the other boy in his arms, holding him close. His hands stroked sweat-damp hair, and ran down a trembling back, doing everything they could to sooth the hysterical young man.

It was not long before he found himself speaking. �I�m not angry, Wolfram. Please�don�t cry.� The shaking of the shoulders he held lessened somewhat, but continued. �I promise, I�m not angry. Why would I be? I know that you never mean all of the cross things you say.� Now, the boy cried harder. Yuuri was becoming more and more alarmed. Finally, he grasped slender shoulders, covered by a sodden pink nightgown and gave him a gentle shake, his voice taking on a tone of almost desperate command. �Wolfram�Wolfram, stop. I can�t stand it when you cry!�

Startled and sniffling, Wolfram�s large, watery green eyes looked up at him and he breathed pitifully, �Why?�

Why indeed?

�Because�� Yuuri began to say something, but whatever lie he had been meaning to start died on his tongue at the sight of Wolfram�s tear-stained face. �Because it frightens me.� That was true. Seeing someone suffer like this always made him scared. But this fear was different, he thought, even if he did not really understand it. �I promise I�m not angry, Wolfram. Just please don�t cry, okay?� A nod from his patient made him smile. In turn, a smile that was no less than radiant came over Wolfram�s face, and he was once again struck by how childlike it made him seem. �I have some medicine for your fever. It�s in the teapot. You have to drink it all, or you won�t get better.�

Wolfram�s nose wrinkled at the mention of medicine, and Yuuri found himself tempted to laugh. �Will you stay with me?� the delirious young man asked, his eyes watching Yuuri�s face hopefully.

�Yes, I will. And I have ordered that there be no disturbances, so I won�t have to leave but to get more water for your next dose of medicine.� That seemed to make Wolfram very happy indeed, and it was all Yuuri could do not to simply hug him. Those eyes were having a strange effect on him, making him feel warmer than he was. It was no use to wear his coat now, so he took it off and threw it over the back of a chair before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. �Now, it�s time for your medicine, Wolfram.�

�Does it taste bad?� Yuuri ignored the childish question, and walked toward the bed with the bowl. Situating himself on the bed behind Wolfram, he leaned the slightly smaller boy against his chest. When he held the bowl to pale lips, its contents were tentatively tasted. �It�s�not too bad.� Once the initial tasting was done, Yuuri watched as Wolfram grasped the bowl and drank the rest of it down.

It was only two minutes before Wolfram was soundly asleep, the medicine having made him instantly drowsy. Whatever was in that teapot must be pretty potent. Yuuri was suddenly glad that he hadn�t offered to taste the stuff first as his mother used to. Not wanting to disturb the boy�s much-needed sleep, Yuuri carefully slid out from behind Wolfram and gently lay him down. He looked so peaceful just sleeping like he was�

Wolfram opened his eyes, feeling somewhat like his head was stuffed with cotton balls. Every sound�from his own heartbeat to the light snoring coming from his left�was muffled. He looked to see Yuuri sitting in a chair near the bed, his sleeves rolled up, hair mussed, and his chin resting on his hand, asleep. Smiling slightly, Wolfram pushed his aching body into a seated position, and the blankets fell down from his chest. He shivered, suddenly cold.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was not well. No, he was definitely sick. That part was not very encouraging. It had been ten years since he was ill. Not since he was seventy-two had he even had a cold, and there was now some kind of bug floating around his system that sent him into a fever. He was still pretty sure that his temperature was above normal, though it was not as high as it had been. Wolfram could not remember anything after Yuuri told him that he was only letting him sleep in his bed because he was sick. Well, there was the vague recollection of his crying, but he didn�t want to think about that.

He didn�t like the thought of crying because of Yuuri. There had been too much of that during the months his fianc� had been gone. That loneliness had been unbearable, like something had been ripped out of his chest, only to leave a gaping hole that would never heal. His eyes closed, a lingering doubt inching to the front of his mind. Did Yuuri really want to be here? Did he really want to be with Wolfram? He supposed that he could have his mother try to hurry things along toward the wedding, but for some reason, that seemed wrong to him. Sure, he led the idiot around by the nose most of the time�but with this one thing, it would need to be Yuuri�s decision. And if he didn�t want it...Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he shoved that horrid idea to the back of his mind, contented to recline against the mound of pillows behind him and watch Yuuri sleeping.

�You look like hell, you wimp,� he muttered, but it didn�t have any venom behind it.

G�nter peered through the crack in the door, finding an interesting sight. Wolfram was sleepily gazing at His Majesty, who snoozed in a nearby chair. The emotions that lay bare on the young lord�s face were enough to make his heart give a little flutter. Young love was always so beautiful! He knocked lightly at the door before entering, replacing the current tray with a fresh one, and a teapot full of hot water. �How are you feeling, Wolfram?�
�A little better.� The young man�s voice was low, and quiet so that he would not wake Yuuri, who appeared to have been asleep where he was for some time now. G�nter prepared another dose of medicine for Wolfram and handed it to the boy, who looked rather content, if still a bit pale. �Thank you. G�nter?�

One fine purple eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. �Yes?�

Wolfram set down the bowl he had been sipping from and fixed his eyes on his fianc�. �Can you put him in the bed? He�s going to be sore if he keeps sleeping like that.� With a smile, the advisor obliged, cradling the young king to his chest while he transferred him to the softness of the bed. With one more statement of thanks, Wolfram shooed him from the room, promising that he would drink his medicine.

It was warm when Yuuri woke. Too warm. Well, too warm for sleeping in the chair. In fact, he realized at the same time that he was actually lying down, and on something infinitely softer than the chair that had made his legs go to sleep long before the rest of him had done. A little sigh very close to him made him open his eyes. Wolfram was curled up against him, fingers twined in his shirtfront. His face was composed in sleep, mouth slightly open, and his hair hanging over his eyes. It was so painfully adorable that Yuuri had to try very hard not to chuckle. Instead, he smoothed blonde hair away from Wolfram�s face, smiling.
He looked so delicate when he slept, like a porcelain doll, but much more real. And no doll could ever have eyes like that, anyway. Yuuri watched helplessly as those eyes opened, hazy green looking up at him before closing again and that lovely face burrowed into his chest. �How are you feeling, Wolfram?�

His shirt muffled the other boy�s voice, and Yuuri felt the warm breath exhaled by Wolfram�s words through the wrinkled white cloth. �Much better. Sleepy...� He couldn�t help stroking at Wolfram�s now somewhat lank hair, smiling. This action drew a contented sigh from the sick young man, and Yuuri closed his eyes. Maybe this sickness wasn�t a bad thing? Wolfram snuggled closer, his nose poking at Yuuri�s chest. One of his feet grazed the young king�s shin. Yuuri smiled.

�Are you feeling well enough to have a bath, Wolfram?� The hot water and steam might be good for him, and there had to be something that Yuuri could put in the water that could ease the muscle aches that always came with a cold.

The invalid mumbled, �But I�m sleepy, Yuuri��

Now, he did chuckle. �How about when we wake up?� There was an affirmative sound, and then Yuuri settled himself again, making sure that he was comfortable. �Sleep well, Wolfram.� Pajamas weren�t necessary. At least Wolfram was getting better. Soon he would be back to normal, and calling him a wimp. For the first time, Yuuri didn�t think he�d mind.

Gwendel sighed, and set the latest signed paper into the stack at the left side of his desk. His eyes were beginning to ache from reading these requests. And there were some that were absolutely ridiculous. One, he remembered, asked that His Majesty personally intervene between two farm families that were disputing over who would have the rights to an enchanted cow. A cow! �Oh, yes,� he murmured aloud as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair back. �His Majesty would be amused by that��
His hand dropped the quill it held, and came up to rub at his eyes, which were still closed. Why could they not stop hurting? His frown deepened, and he tilted his head to one side, cracking his cervical vertebrae back into place, from where the tense muscles in his neck had shifted them. It always felt so good when he did that�now that he thought about it, his hand was sore, too. Too bad, he thought, that Gisela was out of the palace. She had a muscle ointment that he usually applied, but had recently run out. And her absence was probably going to be lengthy.

As he leaned his head back again, he tried to relax. Remembering a technique that he�d learned long ago, he allowed all of the muscles in his face to slacken, then those in his neck, shoulders, chest, back, all the way down to his toes. It worked wonders, pulling a bit of tension from him. But just as always happened, Gwendel�s relaxation was interrupted. The door swung open smoothly, and light footsteps entered before he heard the gentle click of the door closing behind the intruder.

G�nter�s soft voice came, just as his footsteps advanced toward the paper-stacked desk behind which Gwendel sat. �Gwendel? Are you�awake?� It was rather amusing to think that G�nter could be so easily fooled. He grunted that he was, indeed, conscious. �Then what are you doing?� Curiosity and puzzlement laced the scholar�s words, and Gwendel found that he wished to open his eyes.

When he did so, he saw G�nter�s head tilted to one side, his face painted in inquisitiveness, and a crease had formed between his pale violet eyes. He lifted his head, feeling a bit more at ease. �I was attempting to relax, G�nter. What do you need?�

G�nter shrugged. �I do not need anything, Gwendel. I have only come to tell you that your brother seems to be recovering quickly from his fever. You might expect to be relieved of some paperwork quite soon, I think.� That was, at first glance, a good thing. However, the fact that his brother was getting better also would bring with it his shrill voice echoing through the castle, calling His Majesty any number of derogatory terms.

That was not a welcome thought. He frowned.

G�nter leaned on his desk a little. �Do you need me to help you with your papers?� When he shot the tall man an acidic glare, G�nter merely explained with: �I know how much you hate them. And you frown so much when you�re doing paperwork��

That last bit of G�nter�s reply puzzled Gwendel exceedingly. �I�m always frowning, G�nter.�

�Yes�� the other man said, almost as if to himself. �You really do not smile very often, Gwendel.� His eyes had hazed over, as though he were remembering something. �In fact, the last time I remember a smile crossing your face was when we accidentally inhaled too much of those fumes from Anissina�s potion vat.� G�nter�s lips curled into a smile that was something bordering on evil. �How is the cat, Gwendel?�

He had the sudden urge to bite his lip. In his potion-induced giddiness, he had proclaimed that he would care for the cat they�d discovered skulking in one of the corridors. It had grown rather larger than it was then, a fully adult, very sleek tabby, which loved fish. He had named it Agatha, but most times called her Aggie. She was a great comfort when he felt lonely, but sometimes got into his knitting basket, and needed to be cut out of the yarn. Flexing his aching hand, he asked, �Aggie is fine�is there anything else, G�nter?�

For a long moment, G�nter looked oddly at him, then he moved around the desk. Confused when the advisor disappeared behind his chair, reappearing on his right side, Gwendel�s surprise knew no bounds when he felt G�nter take his hand. He was sure that a blush was developing on his face, until G�nter�s thumbs started kneading at the muscles of his palm. It felt so nice so suddenly that he let out a little contented sound before he could catch himself. G�nter smiled gently. �You�re so tense�� the lavender-eyed man mused, as if to himself.

The advisor�s fingers hit a particularly tight knot in Gwendel�s wrist, and he pressed hard, working out the discomfort, causing Gwendel to groan. �That�s��

�Relax, Gwendel.� G�nter said quietly, �Let everything go.� Let go? Let what go? G�nter�s hands worked further up his arm, more gently now, and he continued to murmur, �Let go�� until Gwendel�s eyelids drooped, lulled by that hypnotic voice and the way one of those slender but strong hands had slid from where it had been kneading his shoulder�across his chest and up, until the other joined it, loosing his hair. �Let go of irritation,� Those fingers were kneading his scalp and the base of his skull, his neck. �Let go of responsibility,� His muscles began to feel like jelly in G�nter�s hands, and Gwendel lost the last of his reserve. �Just let go��

His head fell back against the chair again, and he sighed, opening his eyes. G�nter smiled down at him. Blinking slowly, Gwendel smiled back. He watched a light blush rise on G�nter�s cheeks. It was quite pretty. Far too relaxed to care about how undignified he seemed, Gwendel reached out, taking the other man�s pale hand and raising it to his lips. He kissed at G�nter�s fingers before he nuzzled into the palm. �Thank you� G�nter��

The advisor leaned down, brushing hair from his face. �No. Do not thank me, Gwendel�it was my pleasure.� His face was so close, and the movement so brief, that Gwendel was almost certain he had imagined it, but for a mere instant, he thought he felt G�nter�s lips brush his cheek before the man swept from the room. His smile grew until he simply could not keep it up any longer. Finally, he sighed in contentment and hauled himself from his chair. The rest of his papers could wait. For once, he would take the remainder of the day off.

Removing his coat, and leaving his hair hanging down his back, Gwendel exited the office, unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves to just about his elbows. He did not care that he looked disheveled. The corridors were deserted, and he was glad. That left him unhindered in his rambling walk around the palace. Finally, he left by way of the side door, walking through the gardens until he found a particularly thick patch of clover.

Simply too tempted, he lay in the soft grass, the coolness of it embracing him and lulling him to sleep.

G�nter swallowed down a glass of water. He had run all the way here, to his room, frightening several of the servants as he passed. The image of Gwendel smiling up at him had caused some very strange thoughts to rise in his mind, and G�nter did not understand them. Surely, he had felt something like this in the past for the dark-haired general�but that was when they were children! The happy child Gwendel had been turned into a standoffish, stern man, and the feelings he�d had seemed to disappear.
But�how could he explain how his face had heated, and the way his stomach gave a little jump at the feeling of Gwendel�s lips on his hand? It was with his own hands shaking that he poured another glass of water, sipping this time, and gripping the container with both hands. He remembered how Gwendel had been as a small boy�so happy and full of life�until the death of his father. He then became subdued and distant. And when Conrad�s father had arrived, Gwendel had spiraled downward into bitterness and near-hatred.

G�nter had struggled with himself, trying at first to rationalize his feelings, telling himself that they were childhood friends. Almost brothers. After some time, he had succeeded in convincing himself of it, and also that those same feelings had faded, dying away into the mists of memory. But now�

He stood there at the table near his window for a long time, just watching the way the wind blew in the garden trees and letting them soothe his troubled mind. Then he spotted movement. The late afternoon sun shone down on a white shirt, glistened in black hair, and caressed tanned skin. Gwendel. G�nter watched, transfixed, as his old friend aimlessly wandered around the gardens. Finally, he saw the man lay down in the grass, his eyes closing in sleep.

His breath caught in his throat, and his hands lost their grip on the glass. G�nter did not hear the shatter of glass, nor did he care. He was too wrapped up in pondering the fact that the world made beautiful things so difficult to obtain. Roses had thorns. Even the very birds of paradise had talons. And Gwendel�he was a thorny flower in his own right.

A/N: I hope you like it. I've been tweaking this chapter for a while...
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