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Yuuri awoke to coughing.
He squinted up at the canopy fabric over his bed, smoothing the wrinkled sheets under his palm. The air was crisp with the last few moments of night and pecked his nose, goosebumps shooting up his arms. The sun had yet to rise, and he reached blindly for the lost ends of the duvet to cover his toes, intent on falling back to sleep. He met skin first, smooth and warm like a stovetop.
More coughing, and this time hot breaths fluttered over his fingers. His eyes shot open.
Wolfram was inches from his face, curled up on the other pillow, his face pink and his hair curling around his reddened ears and sticking to his brow. Yuuri bowed back on instinct and wacked his knee violently against Wolfram’s shin. He held a hand to his chest to keep his heart from leaping out. Could he pick literally any other way of invading his personal space? One that didn't involve heart attacks at excruciating hours in the morning.
“Wolfram,” he flopped an arm over his eyes and breathed sharply through his mouth, the air icy. There was no way he was sleeping now, “enough of this, my heart can’t take it,”
Wolfram groaned. His ankle was locked around Yuuri’s as if he knew he’d leap out of bed, the only indication that he’d moved at all while they were sleeping. Yuuri shook him off, and he went a little too easily. Curious, he turned to find Wolf gazing at him with glazed, listless eyes, the colour on his face stark except for flushed cheekbones. His breathing was uncomfortably loud, like an old bellows.
Yuuri sat up and pressed his hand against the prince’s forehead. He was burning. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“I’m fine,” he croaked, and leant away from him. The action tugged something sensitive in Yuuri’s chest, and he doubled down on his inspection to fight the feeling. He cupped Wolfram’s cheeks and soothed his fingers over the blazing heat.
“You’re roasting!”
“Roasting?” He mumbled.
“You shouldn’t be running this hot, how long have you been feeling this bad?”
He opened his mouth, when a horrid cough took over his throat. Each of his breaths ended with a withering, sickly wheeze, his energy visibly draining by the second. When he finished, he slumped into his fiance’s side and hid his face in the covers, his silk gown bunched around his shoulders as he burrowed for warmth. Yuuri scrambled out of bed. "Stay here, I’ll go get Gisela. O-or Conrad! He’ll know what to do.”
He turned, when his wrist was snatched from the air. Wolf stared at him with a watery gaze that spoke of a desperation he rarely saw, like Yuuri was marching to his death. His hair stuck out in every direction and his arm was squished uncomfortably under his own body, “Yuuri…”
“It’s gonna be okay, I promise, I’ll come straight back.” He tangled his fingers around a couple flyaway blond hairs and tried to flatten them, for no other reason other than for something to do with his hands.
Wolfram shivered, “I’m fine. Stay here.”
“You’re sick, let me help you.”
He shook his head, “Too early. Stay.”
Yuuri took him in carefully. The moon was still in the sky, the earliest rays of sunlight creeping onto Wolfram’s face. No one would be awake for another hour, and looking into those tired eyes, he knew he didn’t want to leave him alone. The least he could do was keep Wolfram company, if that’s what he wanted.
“Okay, alright,” he smiled, and crawled ever so gently on top of the covers, “I’ll stay, but only for a little while. We’ll have to call someone after that.”
Wolf nodded and leant in closer. The hollow in his cheeks told of something worse than a cold, and with the way his breath rasped, Yuuri’s best guess was the flu. It could be something worse, an infection, or an illness he’d never heard of that wasn’t native to Earth. He bit his lip and searched for Wolfram’s arm over heaps of quilts. He dug his nails into what felt like his wrist, where he wouldn’t feel any pain, just the weight of Yuuri’s hand. He didn’t respond.
Another hour he sat there with the sun creeping over the horizon. He draped a dampened handkerchief over his fiancé’s forehead and adjusted it every few minutes, careful to wring it thoroughly and hold golden stands out of the way. On his back, his breathing seemed a little easier, but he was still boiling, and he was running out of options.
There was a knock on the door as the sun stretched higher on the bed frame. Conrad’s low toned voice called through the wood and Yuuri let the silence ring. After a moment the man peaked his head past the doorframe and frowned at them with his hand tight around the door knob.
“He’s sick,” Yuuri whispered. He refused to wake Wolfram from the weak slumber he’d fallen into. “He’s been like this since I woke up.”
“You should’ve called for someone, Your Majesty,” Conrad said. He put one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and another on his brother’s cheek. His face creased with sympathy.
Yuuri’s heart hurt watching them. “I couldn’t leave him.”
“Not even for a moment?”
“No,” he said, “he needed me.”
Conrad sighed. “Alright, I’ll call for Gisela. I’ll be right back.”
He left swift on his heels and the rhythmic tap of his shoes tore Wolfram’s eyes open. He heaved a cough and his neck muscles tensed under the strain, erupting into trembles. Yuuri felt helpless. He hovered over him, “Hey, hey, deep breaths, that’s it.”
“Y-yuuri.”
“I’m here, I’m right here, Wolf. I’m not going anywhere.”
He grumbled. “You’ll get sick if you sit too close.”
Yuuri laughed. “Earlier you said you wanted me to stay.”
“That was earlier.”
“Well, too late. No take backs. I’m staying right here.”
Wolfram’s lips ticked up into a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“You know it.”
Gisela flew into the room, her purse of medicines and balms clutched tight and her frantic gaze echoed in her footsteps. “King Yuuri, Lord Von Bielefeld! Lord Weller told me you’ve come down with an illness.”
“I’m fine, Gisela. It’s Wolfram that’s sick.”
“Oh dear, let me see,” she cried. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She stacked her supplies on the dresser and got to work. Yuuri watched Wolfram while she examined him. His eyes were on the sheets and his brow furrowed in pain. He looked strangely small under all the covers and with strands of his hair tucked under the towel. Yuuri wanted to hold him in his arms and squeeze him, just a little bit. He looked cold is all, his bare shoulders covered in goosebumps. He wanted to wrap him up tight and rub his skin warm, bundle him up in the quilts. Maybe he would let him, too.
Wolf grabbed the sheets, smoothing the fabric between his finger and thumb. Yuuri slid his hand into the vast space between his fiancé’s curled fists and left it within sight, slotting into place like a puzzle piece. Heat radiated from Wolfram’s skin, and despite himself, Yuuri’s hand shook. Any further felt like crossing an invisible boundary. Any closer, and he’d crack on the inside.
Wolf caught his eye with pure confusion in his gaze. Yuuri sent him a smile that hurt his face, all wobbly, but he hoped it looked sincere. He watched as Wolf delicately intertwined their fingers and held himself still, waiting for the moment Wolf went too far as always and his guts turned with anxiety. His skin was clammy, but soft, littered with tiny calluses and scratches from his sword. Smooth nails tickled the inside of Yuuri’s thumb, sending a single bolt of electricity up his spine.
The prince watched his face intently for a reaction, unmoving. Be it his sickness or something else Yuuri couldn’t name, he stayed as they were, holding himself over the edge of a cliff by his collar. The normally crippling embarrassment was overshadowed by the small smile forming on Wolfram’s sweaty face as he danced his touch over Yuuri’s knuckles, weakly squeezing his palm.
“King Yuuri?” Gisela called, and his face burned hot. He snapped his gaze away from the prince's and onto her amused one. Behind her, Conrad chuckled.
“Sorry,” Yuuri said, “what were you saying?”
Gisela held up a vial with a soft brown liquid inside, darker at the base, “A tonic, Your Majesty. His ailments should pass on their own within the week, but this will alleviate his symptoms. I’d recommend a small sip twice a day with food.”
Yuuri nodded and went through the information in his head twice over so he wouldn’t forget. A small sip was probably a spoonful or two of medicine, and if he imagined it that way it’d be easier to estimate the dose like the kind he’d have for cough or fever medication at home. He would also need to ask the maids to bring food to his bedroom instead of the dining hall. Maybe soup. Did Wolfram like soup?
He held out his hand for the vial and Gisela froze. He tightened his grip on Wolf’s fingers and worried with the calloused pads, “what’s wrong?”
“Ah, it’s just— Your Majesty, do you plan on staying with Sir Wolfram until evening?”
“Of course I do. Why?”
She blinked rapidly, and then she smiled. She slid the vial into his hand. “No reason at all, Your Majesty. Would you like me to notify the cooks that you and Lord Von Bielefeld’s meals for the day will be had in your chambers?”
He beamed, the weight on his shoulders lighter already, “Yes, that’d be great, thank you Gisela.”
Her nose went pink, “It’s my pleasure.”
She trailed out the room, Conrad shortly behind her. He left with a gentle sweep of Wolf’s hair and a sweet smile to them both. “I’ll take my leave. Call me for me if you need me, Your Majesty.”
“Thanks, Conrad.”
He bowed, and he was gone. As soon as the door clicked shut Wolf pushed him flat on his back like a fainting maiden. He fell with an oomph.
Wolf whispered, “Are you pitying me, Yuuri?”
“Huh?”
He lifted their joined hands and gently kissed Yuuri’s knuckles, his lips cracked and warm. It tingled like a burn, and Yuuri yanked himself as far away as possible, inhaling through his teeth. Too much, way way too much.
He hummed knowingly. “You are.”
Yuuri sputtered and cried, “I’m not!”
“I’m not dying. You don’t need to coddle me.”
“I’m not trying to coddle you, I’m trying to help you! Didn’t you want me here?”
“You’re free to leave whenever you like.”
He sat up and reared back in disbelief. “How dare you, I’m trying to help you! It’s not easy handling you when you’re sick, you know?! And you shouldn’t even be here! You’re a spoiled brat!”
His voice bounced off the walls, and Wolfram’s silence echoed even louder. He laid with his eyes shut and pained as he took in the noise and Yuuri already felt terrible. He probably had an awful headache.
“I-I’m sorry,” Yuuri said. “We shouldn’t be fighting while you're sick.”
“It’s fine, Yuuri.”
“It’s not. How about I go find the cooks? I can get us a small breakfast and you can take that medicine. Then we can sleep a little longer, or I can find you a book, or I can leave you to rest and find Conrad for some training. Anything you need. How’s that?”
Wolfram hummed an agreement. Yuuri slipped out of the bed and let his feet fix on the cold floor for the first time that morning. His lack of sleep weighed heavy on his shoulders and the air cracked against his skin like whips. Wolf’s body heat made their little pocket a haven in the icy room. Usually he kind of liked a brisk morning, the pump of adrenaline, the simple and soothing bustle of getting ready to seize the day. He had dampened that feeling dozing alongside Wolf.
He turned to brush through his fiancé's hair. He didn’t hate it. No matter what he said, Wolf asked him to stay. He must have meant it on some level, right? Deep down he must want the comfort his stubborn little brain was too uptight to admit.
Ah, he already set himself up for a day signing paperwork in bed. What was another hour of lazing away?
He slipped back under the covers and hugged Wolfram tight. Arms around his neck, legs tangled, Bare skin on his pajamas. Wolf froze statue still until his wheezy breaths caught up with him and he coughed painfully over and over. Yuuri held him through the whole fit, rubbing circles in his back, enveloping him and hiding him away from irritation, or any worries at all if he could help it. If he had the power he’d make sure he’d never feel sick or cold or pained ever again.
Eventually, slowly, he stopped. “You’ll get sick,” he hissed, a vulnerable wobble in his voice.
Yuuri inched closer, letting himself sink into where the mattress dipped between their bodies. “Don’t care.”
“I care.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. I have an incredible immune system.”
Wolfram opened his mouth to shout, his shoulders rising in preparation, before he winced and retreated into the quilt. “Whatever.”
He hated him so quiet, like all life was squeezed out of him. He swallowed his pride and decided any embarrassment or shame was worth it, and slowly intertwined their fingers. He felt Wolf twitch and his sweaty palm slide against his own like their arms were dipped and swimming in a honey pool. The crease of their elbows stuck together and peeled away whenever they shifted.
“You’re not going to do anything, right?” Yuuri asked, a smile already crawling up his face.
“Like what?”
“Like… kiss me.”
Wolfram blanched. He put his hands up in surrender so close that all Yuuri could see was his flushed, startled eyes in the gaps between. “I-I would never do something like that without your consent.”
Yuuri laid closer, the rise and fall of Wolfram pressed against his chest. He studied Wolf with mostly a genuine amount of concern, but just a small, cheeky flutter stirring in his gut. “I don’t think I like it when you’re this docile. You’re usually so much louder.”
Wolfram ears practically glowed. His nose looked stung by flower bees. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“Let me take care of you, and no funny business. You’re supposed to be resting, and I’m exhausted.”
“What ‘funny business’?”
“Funny business, you know. Like kissing me. You’ve done it before.”
He jumped in fright, and his eyes went so wild his eyebrows disappeared in his hair. “What?!”
“I don’t think you were all there. And you know, if one of us were a girl it’d probably be considered a waste.”
“Why would you tell me that? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!”
“Hmm, I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”
He balled his fists in Yuuri’s nightshirt and screeched. “Yuuri!”
Yuuri just laughed. There was his Wolfram.
.