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May never make it out

Thank you @almostlake for the tag!

rules: post a 1-5 paragraph excerpt of a WIP / fic idea that may never make it out of your drafts, but is near and dear to your heart.

This draft is from a fic I started for the Omar Rudberg Song Title challenge, but didn't find the time to really get into it. Therefore it's called La Mesa and starts out in an Italian restaurant with a Wilhelm/Stella and Simon/Marcus double date (Simon and Wilhelm are roommates). There's a lot of dialogue which I don't count as a paragraph each, so it's a bit longer, but gives you a good impression of the mood and tension in this tale.

Wilhelm’s eyes flicked between him and his boyfriend, who was staring at the menu like he wanted to burn a hole into the paper. Simon looked back at Wilhelm with a little guilty pout and shrugged his shoulders, hoping Marcus didn’t notice. They didn’t need words to understand that they would probably take away the leftovers anyway and share them for lunch the next day. Wilhelm smirked, indicating that he’d gotten the message. The telepathic line that had grown between them over the last two years was working really fine. But quickly Wilhelm’s mood was disturbed by Stella, who reappeared in a cloud of cold cigarette smoke that made Simon’s guts clench with disgust. How could Wilhelm kiss that mouth, for real?

“Pull over”, she said with a little push at Wilhelm’s shoulder, not willing to take the long walk around the table to get back to her seat.

Wilhelm did as he was bid, and although Simon felt some sour prickle in the back of his throat at her rudeness, he couldn’t quite shake the fact that he was more than fine with finding himself face to face with Wilhelm now. Finally, the waiter arrived and they placed their orders.

“Spaghetti Carbonara for me and a pepperoni pizza for him”, Marcus declared.

Simon slumped back in his seat. When the waiter was gone, Wilhelm squinted at Marcus across the table.

“Won’t you even let him order for himself?”

“It’s a polite thing to do”, Marcus answered indignantly. “It’s called chivalry.”

“He’s not a damsel, Marcus. It’s intrusive.”

“I am a damsel!”, Stella cooed and slung her arm through Wilhelm’s. “You can order for me anytime.”

The confused expression on Wilhelm’s face let Simon guess that Wilhelm didn’t even know what she was getting, and he couldn’t quite hold back a little chuckle. But it was quickly erased by Marcus’ voice.

“Simon doesn’t think it’s intrusive.”

“How do you know what Simon thinks? You don’t even know he doesn’t like spinach after what? Six months?”, Wilhelm snapped.

Wilhelm had known from day one. Because he had stumbled from his bedroom in an old and battered Popeye T-shirt on the first morning in their shared flat and Simon had commented on it with some mock puking sounds, thereby revealing his dislike for the green super food. Simon wasn’t sure if using this coincidental enlightenment to his advantage against Marcus was fair play. But he could neither fool himself into NOT finding it somewhat appealing to witness Wilhelm ruffling his feathers like that.

“Guys, can you calm down for a minute?”, Stella whined. “Why don’t we have a bottle of wine, so we all get into a better mood.”

“Absolutely”, Marcus snorted and snapped his fingers at the waiter to order a bottle of Chianti.

An awkward silence ensued, and Simon slowly felt his throat go dry. He hadn’t been looking forward to this double date, not really. It had been Stella who had suggested it, but Wilhelm had broken the idea to Simon, and how could he ever say no to anything that came out of that sweet mouth? Wilhelm seemed to think it was a good idea. So Simon was ready to think the same, even though deep in his chest he had known better. Stella and Marcus were not compatible. Neither were Wilhelm and Marcus - or Stella and Wilhelm if anyone had asked him. But nobody did - not even Wilhelm - so Simon kept his mouth shut. Lost in thought, he reached for his glass right in front of him to take a sip of his coke and jumped a little when he found Wilhelm’s hand had been there first.

“Ahem, sorry, but I think that’s my glass”, he smiled as they both held onto the cool, wet tableware.

“Is it?”, Wilhelm asked with a cute tilt of his head, but still didn’t let go. Why didn’t he let go? “I thought it was mine.”

“It’s not”, Simon corrected. “You didn’t bring yours when you pulled over. This is MINE.”

Then, with an emphasis, another glass of coke smacked onto the table between them.

“Here you are”, Marcus said in a dry voice as he put down the glass.

With an embarrassed smile Wilhelm finally pulled away.

“Oh. Thanks.”

So this is basically set to be a friends to lovers slow burn with a lot of drama, jealousy and heartbreak, some bottles of wine and things happening under the table (La Mesa, you get it). Let me know what you think and if anyone would be interested, so I get a reason to brush off the dust and get to work on this.

I'm tagging @jordensgolde, @gulliblelemon, @oui-oui-holly and @larrylover3000 if you haven't joined yet (no pressure ofc).

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