Phichit wrinkles his nose and beams at the tenderness of Emil's intimacy. God, he loves his sweet, gentle giant of a fiancé more than words can express. He slides his hand further up to gently brush out Emil's fluffy hair with his fingers.

"I'm glad, too. I love your brothers. And I've obviously never had an older sibling, so I hope someday I can be close to your sister." He isn't too daunted by the task; he's found a way to make it as a figure skater coming from a tropical country. "And I can't wait until we tell our friends, and Michele gives me the stink eye whenever you're not looking. Maybe even another shovel talk!"