Disclaimer: I don't own Kyo Kara Maoh! or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

"Be honest," Wolfram said, holding the frills just below his chin. "Is this my colour?"

Yuri hurriedly stuttered, "YeahsureIguess." He was blushing furiously and laughing nervously. This was... embarrassing.

Wolfram seemed to neither see nor care about Yuri's discomfort. He turned back to the nightgown, frowning a little. "Mother says green matches my eyes," he mumbled distractedly. "But then, I think I look much better in pink." He sniffed. "Hence the first one."

This was more than a little perturbing. Over Wolfram's shoulder, Yuri noticed the clerk watching them, her eyes kind and her lips smiling. Yuri still wasn't used to how comfortable the people of this world were with this sort of thing; he kept getting the urge to duck out of sight. "Well," he found himself muttering, "If your other one is fine, why do you need this one?" To Yuri, this seemed a legitimate question.

Wolfram only sniffed and jerked his chin up haughtily before marching over to the next rack, scrutinizing the contents. Yuri still didn't see why they couldn't just get the royal seamstress to make one, but when he had brought it up, Wolfram did one of those 'I-can't-believe-you-don't-want-to-be-seen-in-public-with-your-own-fiance' rants. Which, albeit, weren't that frequent—but rants in general were, and Yuri didn't like them. So instead, he had stupidly agreed to help Wolfram waste the day picking out dresses. Why Wolfram needed him specifically for this, Yuri had no idea.

And why did he need a new one, anyway?

"The old one obviously isn't serving its purpose," Wolfram told him hotly. As usual, Wolfram's tone indicated that his words should have been perfectly obvious.

"Why?" Yuri raised an eyebrow, confused. Whatever this purpose was, it certainly wasn't obvious to him. "Are you cold at night?" And he cocked his head to the side a little, blinking.

Wolfram kept his eyes on the rack, and after a minute, it occurred to Yuri that eye contact was being deliberately avoided. Wolfram picked out a nightgown, eyed it once, then put it back. With his back still stubbornly turned, he managed, "I wouldn't be if it worked."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

If he wanted more heat he should've just worn pants. Yuri considered saying that but ultimately rejected it. His apparent lack of understanding was getting him in enough trouble as it was.

Evidently, he was right. Wolfram bowed his head, arms tensing in clear frustration. He turned around slowly, emerald eyes fixing on Yuri and eyebrows twitching angrily. "Are you serious?" he grated out, after a minute or so of cold glaring. "You're such a wimp that you seriously can't tell what I'm getting at here?"

"Hey, don't call me a wimp," Yuri retorted dejectedly, entirely missing the point.

Yuri immediately knew he'd done something wrong. He opened his mouth on instinct to apologize but closed it again when he realized that he didn't know what to apologize for.

Wolfram gave him no time to figure it out. "You're so stupid!" Wolfram's fists balled as he stepped closer to Yuri, exploding, "How could you not understand what I'm talking about?"

"Um, could we discuss this elsewhere?" Yuri suggested quietly, spotting the clerk again, who now looked worried.

"No, we cannot!" Now not only upset but offended, Wolfram stalked close enough to Yuri to make him back up into a rack of dresses. "Honestly, I'm trying to get us through a difficult step in our relationship, and all you can do is whine about going home!"

Yuri blinked. "Our relationship?" That was a little more explanatory than the last rant but still brought up some questions. "What does your nightgown have to do with that?"

Wolfram gave him one of those looks crossed between 'How-could-you-not-get-it?' and 'How-could-you-be-so-stupid?' He gritted his teeth as if to yell again, then, shockingly, didn't. Instead, he sniffed and seemed to almost... deflate. He looked to the side bitterly. "You don't like it."

"Wha—?" Yuri mumbled, shocked. "I never said... what does that have to do with anything?"

"You obviously don't like my other one, or you would have..." Wolfram trailed off, seeming to calculate the best way to phrase it, "...kept me warmer at night."

Even then, it took Yuri a moment to see what his fiancé was insinuating. Then it hit him. Like a sack of bricks between the eyes. "Oh. OH." He... really wasn't sure what to say to that. Blushing even harder, Yuri waved his hands defensively. "N-no, I like your old one just fine..."

"Liar," Wolfram grumbled.

"No, really!" he insisted. "It, um... it compliments your... um... skin tone. Yeah." He had no idea if this was a good thing to say or not. Having never had a girlfriend, Yuri was completely in the dark with these things. But his fiancés was now looking at him, at least, even if it was with a fiery glare.

Yuri waited. Wolfram glared. He waited some more. Silence.

"Oh, I see," the blond finally muttered, eyes narrowed. "My clothes have nothing to do with it—you're just a wimp."

Then he threw his nose up in the air and stormed right past Yuri, right out of the shop.

Yuri stayed, dumbstruck.