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English
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Published:
2021-07-04
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1,299
Chapters:
1/1
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102
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20th century boy

Summary:

Simon's hand comes up and then freezes, his fingers curling into his palm.

"Do it," Wilhelm insists. "Whatever you wanted to do, just do it."

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Their knees brush beneath the table and Wilhelm's first instinct is to pull away. He nearly does, eyes jerking up from his plate — only to be confronted with the discomfort spread across Simon's face, completely unconcerned with Wilhelm, with the placement of their legs, as he pokes at a piece of salmon floating in his soup. Fondness blooms inside Wilhelm's chest and he grins, purposefully knocking his knee into Simon's.

"Hey," he calls. "I wanna try. Feed me some."

"Stop." Simon gives him an unimpressed look. "That's the last thing we need. Lower-Class Boyfriend Lives To Serve Prince."

There's a crowd of photographers about nine meters from where they've been sat on the terrace, their cameras a backdrop of non-stop shutter clicks, clattering like insects. Wilhelm's bodyguards are two tables away, far enough to give their conversation a bit of privacy, within reaching distance should the waiter reveal herself to be a fundamentalist and try to stab him, or whatever nonsense they imagine might happen to him these days.

He looks down at his salad and then back to Simon. "Please?" he begs, and does his best pathetic look.

Simon groans, but he's standing up, spoon carefully balanced between his fingers, his other hand cupped underneath as he leans across the table. Wilhelm opens his mouth dutifully, smiling around the curve of the spoon. A few drops don't survive the trip, bright marks of orange that stand out against the glowing tan of Simon's skin.

Wilhelm acts on instinct, his hand shooting out, capturing Simon's wrist. He leans in and cleans the mess with his mouth, kissing Simon's palm. Simon drops down into his seat, looking dazed; Wilhelm doesn't let go of his hand. Their fingers rest, tangled, in the middle of the table.

"Prince Obsessed With Perfect Boyfriend." The flush that breaks across Simon's face is beautiful, nothing like the splotchy mess that Wilhelm is prone to. He feels desire rush to the forefront of his mind, uncomplicated. The simple way he wants Simon has become a constant for him, the only easy thing in his entire life, and he leans into the feeling. Refuses to shy away from it.

You've made your bed, his mother had said, after Wilhelm had come to her and said that he was done making concessions. That it was her turn, for once: accepting Simon or politicking her way through the aftermath of his abdication.

He's living for Erik now, as much as he is for himself, and sharing a bed with Simon is the best thing that's ever happened to him, nevermind what his mother thinks.

"I think this is the perfect date to have our first kiss," he says.

"Our first kiss since the sex tape, you mean?" Simon's the only person Wilhelm's ever met who is truly able to convey multiple emotions at once. "Or the hundred kisses we've exchanged since this morning and which definitely do not need to happen in public now?" His voice is flat, sarcastic, eyes hard and unimpressed, even as a pleased smirk stretches the corner of his lips, heat bleeding across his cheeks, deepening his flush. "How are you so bad at damage control."

Wilhelm's eyes are fixed on the way Simon's teeth are digging into the meat of his bottom lip. His mind is consumed with jealousy, irrational thoughts of how it should be his teeth there, how his lips should be the ones to immediately soothe the pain after he does. "We should definitely kiss."

"Wille!" Simon pulls his hand away while Wilhelm is distracted, his grip gone temporarily limp. He's visibly delighted, shaking his head and he looks back down to his soup, feeding himself a mouthful. Another spark of jealousy flares up at the sight of Simon's mouth stretched around the spoon. "You aren't listening to me."

Wilhelm rests his elbows on the table and folds his hands near his face, pressing his lips against his knuckles, worrying the skin around his thumb. "What do I have to do to get a kiss?"

Simon's laugh is gorgeous. It startles out of him, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. "Wow," he says. "Negotiating, seriously? I guess you really are a rich kid."

"Hypothetically," Wilhelm insists.

It gets him an eye roll. "Hypothetically?" Simon asks. "Privacy."

Wilhelm's mind kicks into gear. "So like, the bathroom —"

"Absolutely not the bathroom."

"— ending the date and going home?"

Simon traps Wilhelm's knee between his thighs beneath the table. "Please explain what I'm technically getting out of this again?"

Wilhelm sits up straight in his chair, posture etiquette drilled into him since before he could walk. He finishes off his glass of water and then pushes his hair away from his face, fingers dragging across his scalp. He grabs his napkin from his lap and wipes his lips before gently pushing his chair back, lifting it minutely so that it doesn't drag against the floor.

Simon's eyes catalog every movement, watching him as he steps around the table to stand beside Simon's chair, as he bends himself in half, going wide when Wilhelm presses a soft kiss to Simon's cheek before standing tall again and holding a hand out to help Simon up, the other resting on the back of Simon's chair, pulling it back.

They're of a similar height. Wilhelm loves that, loves that whenever he turns to look for Simon he's just perfectly there, in Wilhelm's line of sight. He knows that he should step back, give Simon some space, that the whole reason he'd gotten up was so that they could leave as soon as possible, return to the manor, but he feels rooted in place. Caught in Simon's orbit.

"How tall is your father?" he asks, without meaning to.

Simon blinks, giving a confused smile. "I dunno," he mumbles, never fond of the topic. "A little taller than me?"

Wilhelm frowns. He thinks of Erik and his heart aches, but he pushes past it, to memories he cherishes and refuses to let the loss take from him. Erik was always the odd one out, the genesis of his height a mystery. Likely some great prince a long time ago, reappearing by chance in Erik's genetic code. There's no guarantee Wilhelm will match him. "You can't grow anymore."

Simon's hand comes up and then freezes, his fingers curling into his palm.

"Do it," Wilhelm insists. "Whatever you wanted to do, just do it."

Fingers brush against his temple, moving the hair from Wilhelm's face, pushing it behind his ear.

"Is that an order?" Simon asks. "Like a royal decree? Simon can't be taller than the Crown Prince."

"Yes." Wilhelm's smiling wide enough that his cheeks hurt. "Absolutely. I'll pair it with a suggestion to raise the estate tax."

Simon huffs out a breath, stuffing a hand into his pocket. "Fuck," he says. "I guess I'd have to support it then."

Affection wells up inside of Wilhelm. "I really want to kiss you."

"Don't."

Wilhelm wonders if there's ever been a person who more clearly wants to be kissed than Simon in this moment. Every centimeter of his body telegraphs it: the plush of his lips, the way he leans into Wilhelm's space, the spread of his eyelashes over the high cut of his cheekbones.

"Whatever you're thinking," Simon says, "stop."

"I'm not thinking anything." Wilhelm leans in. Slightly. Their noses brush.

"Wilhelm." Simon tips his head back, reintroducing space between them. "Home."

It's like a spell's been broken. He blinks. "Simon, don't tell anyone," he says, "But I really love you."

"I'll try to keep it a secret." Simon's fingers tangle with his, leading them towards the door that'll take them into the restaurant proper. Wilhelm's bodyguards aren't far behind, one of them walking past to collect the car. "But no promises."

Notes:

this show landed firmly in the absolute circle that is venn diagram of what i love. i imagine this as taking place in series two (which we better get, netflix!!) after wilhelm inevitably comes out & they start navigating the PR-dictated damage control tightwire that is dating as public figures; wilhelm is the king of 'one step back.....ten steps forward' so i fully believe in him getting to this point by episode three, at most. gå för det, pojkar!