Wilhelm has no idea how the palace's PR team had approved of this, and who on earth said this was the best way possible to fix his reputation. But here he is now, sitting opposite Simon Eriksson for his very own chicken shop date.
There's only twenty minutes left to film, but Wilhelm does not want it to end. Simon has a clever way of talking as if the cameras aren't there, paying attention and listening. He sometimes gets flustered when Wille returns the questions, but he has a burn inside him to learn all about Simon, inside and out.
"So," Simon says, popping a chip into his mouth. "If you could have a different role in the world, not a Prince, what would it be?"
"Your boyfriend." It comes out smoother than he ever thought it would.
Simon freezes mid-chew. For a moment, Wilhelm is convinced he’s ruined everything- his reputation, this stupid PR stunt, and maybe even the fragile spark between them. The cameras are still rolling, people are standing and watching, gazes pressing in.
He blinks. “That’s not exactly what I meant by role.” His smile is crooked, but his ears are turning pink.
Wilhelm swallows hard, nerves buzzing, but he doesn’t back down. “It’s what I’d choose,” he says, softer this time, eyes steady on Simon’s.
For day 5 of the @youngroyals-events drabble challenge.
“I like your necklace.”
Surprised, Simon’s eyes shift from his phone to the flirtatious eyes of the barista brewing his latte. “Oh thanks,” Simon replies, fiddling with the silver pendant.
“Do you like frogs?”
Simon can’t help the giggle that escapes him, wishing it hadn’t when the barista raises a curious eyebrow.
“Ah - no. Not really. My boyfriend likes frogs.”
Looking vaguely disappointed, the barista nods, passing over Simon’s cup, “Lucky guy.”
Ducking his head, Simon mumbles “thanks” and heads outside to a waiting Wille.
Simon informs him, “You’re a lucky guy, apparently.”
Without context, Wille simply hums, “The luckiest.”
How about 25 for the drabble challenge, for Wilmon?
- oneofthosebells
thanks for the prompt @oneofthosebells! (You can still send me a number from this list and a pairing if you want)
25. “I can’t believe you talked me into this” + Wilmon
Simon’s knees creak as he presses up to stand, almost stumbling after crouching for so long. Dust particles sparkle in the air, illuminated by the sunshine streaming through the uncovered windows after so many days of relentless rain.
He surveys the chaos impassively. Tools scattered about, balled up paper towels and rags. Paint brushes and rollers propped up over buckets, waiting or drying. Wilhelm’s 80s What a Time 2 be Alive (even though we weren’t) playlist blaring from the tinny bluetooth speaker. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
Wilhelm grins, his face still boyish, even after all these years, beneath the plaster dust freckling his skin and hair. “I thought you wanted this to be ours.”
“I do.”
“Well?”
“I meant more along the lines of let’s not spend above our means and we are absolutely not involving anyone from your family or the court.”
“And we haven’t.”
“No. But I didn’t mean we had to do everything ourselves.”
“Rosh and Ayub helped.”
Simon snorts. “Did they?”
“Your words, not mine.”
Simon stretches his arms above his head, clasping his wrist with the opposite hand, reaching side to side. When he lets his shoulders drop a moment later, he grumbles, “I didn’t really have, you know, watching Belgian DIY Youtube videos of how to install drywall in mind.”
“In all fairness, I’ve been the one watching those, no?” Wilhelm's smile broadens. He squints up when Simon doesn’t reply. “Why don’t you head home, make yourself something to eat and take a break.”
Simon juts his chin out. “And let you stay here and keep working?”
Wille scrubs his palms on his jeans. “I want to finish this. I’m right in the middle.”
“Then I’ll stay too,” Simon insists.
“You deserve a break,” Wilhelm tries again. “We’ve been here all weekend.”
“Exactly.” Simon sets his jaw. “So. What should I do now?”
Wilhelm studies him. He knows that set. "Hm... Keep me company?”
“Wille.”
“Look pretty?”
“Wille.” Simon rolls his eyes. “Why don’t I work on prying out the rest of the bath tile, yeah? I’m feeling like a little blunt force might preemptively combat my annoyance at the situation I know I’ll be walking into at work tomorrow.”
Wilhelm chuckles and nods, tilts his face up towards Simon.
Simon obliges, pressing an affectionate kiss to his lips. “But I’m taking the speaker with me,” he warns.
Later, when it is darkness instead of light pouring in through the bare windows and the dust in the air looks like mist in the glare of the intense work lamp Wilhelm bought to be able to see to continue painting late into the evenings after work, Simon comes up behind Wilhelm, where he’s scrubbing his forearms and hands at the kitchen sink, and wraps his arms around Wille’s waist.
Wilhelm stops the water and dries his hands with a paper towel before turning in Simon’s arms to return the embrace. “We’re filthy,” Wille observes, but doesn’t pull back.
“Too filthy for a celebratory treat?”
“I thought we agreed no blow jobs in the reno zone,” Wilhelm laughs.
Simon rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I stand by that.” Simon extricates himself from Wille’s hold and walks over to the freezer, where he pulls out a box of ice cream bars. “But I think we’ve earned these.”
He pushes up to sit on the counter, and a moment later Wilhelm joins him, elbows brushing, hips touching. They make quick work of the wrappers.
“I don’t say it enough,” Simon says then, swinging his legs, heels bumping the cabinets below, “but thank you for this… for making this happen. Our way.”
Wille huffs. “Don’t thank me yet. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Maybe. But you’re figuring it out. We’re figuring it out.”
“Skål,” Wilhelm says, his expression impossibly fond. He holds out his chocolate-coated bar to tap Simon’s.
“Skål,” Simon grins back.
And if years down the line, when some future owners of the little house decide to take down the half-wall between the kitchen and dining room, and discover behind the plaster two birchwood sticks, each with two hearts outlined on them and the letters S + W, they won’t know the whole story, but they will, undoubtedly, understand something of what it meant.
Written for Day 1 of @youngroyals-events's Drabble Challenge.
-
Simon’s cheeks are pink. A lone snowflake drifts down and lands on his nose. He scrunches it up and lifts his sleeve.
Darting his own hand out, Wille grabs it and smiles.
“Let me.”
Simon rolls his eyes. “I can—“ But he stops as Wille leans forward, closing his lips around the end of Simon’s nose. Wille feels Simon’s breath stutter out; a cloud momentarily enveloping their faces.
Wille moves back but stays close. “There,” he says. Then: “Your nose is cold.”
“I— uhm… It…”
With a grin, Wille leans forward and kisses the words right out of Simon’s mouth.
He knows he’s being mostly irrational about it. He knows Simon is a careful driver, always sticking to the speed limits, staying off his phone, paying attention to the traffic.
Yet no amount of reassuring will make Wille feel better when Simon picks up the keys. Not the state of the art safety features, not Simon telling him it’ll be fine and Wille has nothing to worry about.
Because Simon can’t promise that. Maybe there’ll be black ice, or a drunk driver. And then another call that makes Wille’s world come crashing down.
Written for Day 1 of the YR Drabble/Doodle challenge run by @youngroyals-events. Prompt: Winter.
There’s a faint dusting of snow over the familiar building. Like icing sugar on a burnt cake, it makes the abandoned, decaying school look fresh and full of potential.
They’d left in summer, but somehow it was always winter when Felice pictured Hillerska in her mind; that long, fateful winter of change. Fitting to return now.
“Are you sure?”
Wille glances at her, startled, then smiles. “With your chef skills and my total lack of experience in running a business, how can we fail?”
“I meant…this place. You know. A lot of bad memories.”
Wilhelm mumbles into Simon’s hair, voice free of the judgement or teasing tone Simon expects.
Their laying tangled into each other on top of his bed, rays of the blazing summer sun escaping trough his blinds. It’s way too hot to be this close to each other, Simon can feel his shirt sticking to the skin on his back, can feel the dampness of sweat between their entangled hands on top of Wille’s chest.
Simon groans a little in embarrassment as he pushes closer, wriggles his leg more between Wille’s in an attempt to crawl into his boyfriends skin. A strong arm moves from the nape of his neck and curls around his waist, pulls him the slightest bit closer so that he’s laying halfway on top of Wille.
Wille lifts their joined hands from his chest and presses a light kiss to Simon’s knuckles, lets it linger just long enough for him to feel Wille’s warm breath flow over his own hand.
The top of his fingers find their way between Simon’s shirt and pants, caress his skin there in slow, smooth strokes.
“I really liked it.”
Simon can feel the rumble of Wille’s voice from where his nose is touching Wille’s neck. And though he says it so quietly that Simon almost misses it, the earnestly that seeps through it is so undeniably Wilhem.
He does that, sometimes. Makes Simon’s reserve crumble with the simplest comments, spoken casually like its just another fact, like saying the sky is blue or that the grass is green. Like he has no idea that it makes Simon debate between climbing him like a tree or making his brain short-circuit. It’s unfair, that one boy can make him forget how to function and make him smile like it’s the easiest thing in the world with just a handful of words.
Simon moves his head back a tad, meets Wille’s eyes from where he was already watching Simon, observing as always.
“You didn’t think it was…” Simon sweeps a loose strand of hair behind Wille’s ear, his expression patient, waiting for Simon to find the right words, “I don’t know, a little silly?”
Wille’s brows twitch, he moves his own hand to Simon’s cheek. Caresses his thumb over the light blush that’s forming there.
“No, no never Simon.” He says, so honest, so serious. “you- you have no idea how-“
Wille cradles the back of Simon’s head, fingers raking through damp curls, pulling him in, cuddling him closer into the space between his neck and jaw.
“I loved it, really.”
Simon muffles his slightly embarrassing giggle into Wille’s collarbone. Clutches tighter around him, the soft cotton of his shirt bunching up between his fingers. He lets out a small hum, “Really?”
Wille’s chuckle thrums trough his entire body, makes Simon’s head bop up and down.
“Really.”
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Quick drabble & drawing because my current animations and writing want to make me blend my brain. :D
