Archive of Our Own ^beta

Simon Eriksson was not the type to admit when he was sick. 

He hated to admit that he was under the weather. He hated to admit he was tired. He hated to admit that he couldn’t do everything he needed to do. He wanted to be able to handle everything without any help — and he rarely needed help. Even when he did need help, he rarely asked for it out of sheer stubbornness. So he absolutely and passionately hated to admit when he was sick. 

This meant that, typically, it was Wilhelm who forced him to take a break. Especially if he was sick — most specifically when he was sick. Simon would never take a break on his own, and Wilhelm knew that better than anyone, so he was the one to make the call when Simon was too ill to get through his day. 

That, unfortunately, meant that Simon had spent the last two days locked in Haga. Not in the sense that he couldn’t leave if he really wanted to, but more in the way that Wilhelm had canceled all of Simon’s meetings and dinners for the week and had told him in not so many words that if he went to class, he would be dealing with Wille showing up to take him home in the middle of a lecture. Maybe even in full royal regalia. The library incident with his study group was enough to keep Simon from doing that. He didn’t want to relive that embarrassment. He certainly didn’t want to add to it. He had barely been able to look the librarian in the eye in the past month.

Now, Simon wasn’t sick in the sense that he couldn’t get out of bed or that he was knocking at death’s door. He had a bit of a cold and for a few days he had a mild fever that really only Wilhelm had noticed, but nothing too major.

No, he was sick in the sense that he was exhausted. Sleep-deprived, at the very least. He had spent most of the last two days sleeping. Which, honestly, he couldn’t be blamed for. He had spent most of the last two weeks not sleeping in Liechtenstein. 

How he and Wilhelm had ended up in Liechtenstein he honest to God could not tell you. Kristina was supposed to travel to meet with their Regent, but she, for some reason, had decided to send Wilhelm in her place. And where Wilhelm went, Simon typically followed. So they had spent the last week and a half in nearly the smallest country in Europe, and Simon had not been able to sleep at all.

He didn’t know why. His accommodations had been lovely. He had stayed in Vaduz Castle with Liechtenstein’s Royal Family. He had shared a bed with Wille like he always did, even though technically it was improper because they weren’t married. He was well fed and treated much more like a Consort than he currently held the title of. 

By all means, Simon should have slept fine. 

Maybe it was his upcoming exams — the semester was quickly coming to an end, and he had missed more classes than he had attended at this point. He loved Wilhelm, and he loved the life they lived, but state trips were going to be his downfall. Maybe it was the fact that he was missing two weeks of school. He had never missed so much class consecutively. Usually, he was only gone for a day or two, and then he was back to his lessons, apologizing repeatedly to his professors, who already knew he would be missing their class and honestly were too scared of his position to say anything about it. Maybe that had made him restless.

If he was honest, though, he was probably restless thinking about his two friends from Biology Class who hadn’t yet completely gotten back to normal after finding out that he was dating the Crown Prince. 

Sofia and Engla had done their best. Or at the very least, they had tried to do their best. They had expressed their embarrassment for the situation profusely, and Simon had told them not to worry about it. The four of them were still texting often, still sending each other notes and updates on classes when one of them missed a lecture, but Simon hadn’t been at a study session in almost three weeks. At first, he had wanted to avoid the awkward confrontation. Then it was PR meetings that he could not miss. Then it was the trip to Liechtenstein. And now he was sick. 

He hadn’t seen Engla, Sofia, or Melvin in nearly three weeks. 

He was pretty sure they were happy about that. That was a fact he’d begrudgingly accepted. Sofia couldn’t help but blush every time he had entered the room, and she had been suspiciously quiet the last time he had seen her. Plus, her texts were shorter than they once were. She was undoubtedly watching her words carefully — not willing to say more than she already had.

Engla had been slightly more talkative, but she still wasn’t as open as she once was. It left Simon feeling strange and out of place. And Engla was also pink with a blush every time she ever so much as looked in Simon’s direction. 

He had been glad to escape the gaze of both women for a few weeks.

Melvin, refreshingly, hadn’t changed at all. He had already known who Simon was, and the only change made was that now he would ask Simon about his boyfriend by name instead of just saying “your boyfriend.” And Melvin did call him “Wilhelm.” Not “The Crown Prince” or “His Royal Highness.” He didn’t mention titles at all when asking Simon about how he was doing or if he and Wilhelm had had a nice trip. He still texted Simon – often, actually – and kept him updated about what he was missing in the class. Melvin was, in every way, refreshing.  

His missed three weeks of classes and the upcoming exams were probably what had convinced him to throw caution to the wind and invite the trio over for a study session. He had cleared it with security weeks ago, actually, and Wilhelm had always told Simon he should invite his friends around more often. The only thing he hadn’t done in preparation for this study session was to actually invite the group to study with him. He had been putting it off.

And he knew Wille would be out for dinner that night. It was a dinner Simon had originally planned to be at, but Wilhelm — being the perfect boyfriend he was — had seen how tired he was, and how stressed he was from being so behind at school, and he had told Kristina that Simon would no longer be in attendance. Simon didn’t need to say how grateful he was. Wilhelm knew — he always did. Wilhelm could see it in the way all the tension had disappeared from Simon’s body the second he was told his presence was no longer expected at dinner. The second dinner this week that Simon had canceled on, though it was the only formal one.

So tonight was the perfect night to have his study session. Haga would be empty except for him. The security he was most friendly with would be with Wille, and even Wille himself wouldn’t be there to distract his study mates. 

Simon had still been hesitant when he had extended the offer. Back before he met Wille, had he received an invitation like this one, he was pretty sure he would have had a heart attack. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that Simon had let the two girls talk to him about Wilhelm for the last several months without so much as a hint of who he really was. He wouldn’t have accepted the offer in their position. He knew he wouldn’t have. If he was in Melvin’s position, maybe, but certainly not in Sofia or Engla’s. 

But they were, rather obviously, not him. And they stupidly accepted his invitation without so much as a second thought. They were delighted to have been offered an evening at Haga Palace. Friday afternoon, Simon sent Johan with the car to go pick up his study group from their class, and they all went without any trace of the hesitation Simon had felt when he extended the offer.

As Simon opened the door for them, he realized he probably should have specified a dress code. He had been sleeping most of the day, which meant he was in sweatpants and one of Wille’s old Hillerska Rowing t-shirts. He wasn’t even sure if he had combed his hair that morning, and he was barefoot save for the fuzzy socks his Mama had sent him for his birthday. He was in his pajamas because he was at home. This was his home. 

But to the other people in his study group, this was a palace. A fairytale. Somewhere they never thought they would be. 

Sofia hadn’t dressed up or anything, but she had sure as hell never worn a dress that nice to class. Most of the time, she wore slacks and a blouse. Simon didn’t think he had actually ever seen her wear a dress before. Certainly not one that looked like that. But here she stood in a nice pink dress that did not suit the outside weather and matching heels. Because of course she had bought matching heels.

Engla, similarly, had worn a skirt and a fancy sweater. He had never seen her wear anything that nice. Engla — like Simon — typically wore jeans and a hoodie to school. He was fairly certain she had bought that sweater for this specific occasion, and it almost made his skin crawl. Engla’s mind had impressed him long ago, and she didn’t need to prove herself by wearing a Ralph Lauren sweater that he knew she could not afford. 

Neither young woman was dressed for a study session. This was not something they had ever worn to school, or the library, or that little cafe they had visited a few times. This wasn’t something they wore when they presented for their class, or when they took their exams, or when they quizzed each other in the back closet of their professor’s classroom. They weren’t dressed like Sofia and Engla. They had dressed up for Haga, and Simon suddenly felt dressed down in his own damn house. 

God bless Melvin, who wore jeans and a t-shirt from his daughter’s daycare. 

Simon sniffled through the remaining side effects of his cold and motioned for the trio of his classmates to come inside. They hesitated, and he waved his hand more frantically, which then caused all of them to start shuffling more violently.

“Hey, welcome. I’m glad you made it.” He was glad they made it. Again, had he been in their position, he was pretty sure he would have jumped out of the car halfway here. He probably wouldn’t have even gotten in the car. He wouldn’t have been able to stomach a study session in a royal palace. Before Wille, he would have run for the hills. 

He watched them closely as they walked into the main hall. He kept a close eye as they marveled at the inside of a building they had never expected to be at. He had never been here as a guest. He had never walked these halls as anyone other than a resident. The first time he saw these rooms, it was when he was deciding where he and Wille wanted to live. It had been overwhelming, sure, but not like it must have been for them.

For him, it had been overwhelming because he could see himself living there for most of his life. He could see himself and Wilhelm, and their new dog (courtesy of Henry), and their children running around. He could hear laughter, and he could feel tears, and he could picture slow dancing in the ridiculously late hours of the night. He could see himself raising his family there, and hosting ridiculously proper dinners, and planning Christmas parties for his friends. 

The first time Simon saw Haga, he had seen his future. It had been overwhelming, yes, but not like it was for his three new friends. His three new friends who were standing in a palace they never thought they’d get the chance to see, staring at the soaring ceilings and the grandiose staircases. He could see how bewildered Sofia and Engla were as they tried and failed to take in every detail of their surroundings. He could see the realization of where they stood as it glossed over their eyes. He could see that even Melvin was doing his best to keep his awestruck gaze hidden. 

Simon wasn’t the unassuming guy they thought he was. He wasn’t just some kid from their science course who had to miss class more often than he should have. This was Simon’s life. And that must have been overwhelming for them in more ways than one.

“If you need anything, just let me know,” he said. It wasn’t much, but it was as much of a make yourself at home as he was willing to offer them. He wanted them to feel comfortable, but he had learned long ago to keep people at an arm’s length. “I’ll have Filipa grab you anything you want — within reason.” 

“And who is Filipa, exactly?” Melvin asked. He was the first of the three to find his voice. He had also been the first of the three to know who Simon was, though. He’d had the entire semester to get used to Simon being like this. He’d had the entire semester to come to terms with the fact that Simon wasn’t just some guy.

Simon cringed at his own answer. “Filipa is the housekeeper.” It was a sentence he didn’t think he would ever seriously say. He had a housekeeper — one he cherished and relied on very much, actually. “Haga doesn’t run properly without her. I can tell you that much.” It was true. Haga was not Drottningholm, but there were still plenty of people that needed to be around for it to function. There were plenty of people that needed to be around to make sure he and Wille functioned. There were security guards and maids and gardeners. There were cooks and errand boys and also that one guy that came once a month to change their light bulbs. There were days when the Queen showed up unannounced, and days Jan-Olof came to terrorize him and the staff. And none of it — none of it — would have worked without Filipa. Simon thought she was a superhero, honestly. She was sixty-five, and he had never seen the woman break a sweat.

“So you just… live here?” Engla asked, finally managing to squeak out something that sounded word-like. 

Simon huffed in annoyance, but nodded his head and started walking through the palace. The group followed at his heels, doing their best to keep up and knowing they would get lost if they didn’t. To Simon, though, this place was familiar. He didn’t need a map to get through the halls — he didn’t need a guide.

Simon was the guide. He knew these hallways like the back of his hand. 

“Yes, Engla, I live here. This is my house.” He pointed at the dog laying in the hallway to his right and started pointing out every obviously homey thing he owned. “That is my dog, Fluffles. He was a housewarming gift from our friend Henry. Through that door is my piano. That is a picture of me and Wille at our graduation. That is a picture of Wille and our friend Felice. Those are pictures of us with Kristina and Ludvig.” After that, he started pointing to the more permanent parts of the palace — the things that had been here for generations and would be there long after he had gone. “That’s a painting from the nineteenth century. This is where security takes their breaks when they need them. Through there is the kitchen. That’s the library.” But, finally, he made it to his destination — where he had planned to take them. “And this is where we’ll be studying. Mine and Wilhelm’s parlor.” 

Simon moved to one of the couches and plopped down on it, pulling out his notepad and textbooks so he could begin their session. He had not noticed that the three others were panting from their unexpectedly long walk to get to this room. He also didn’t really care. They would catch their breath eventually, and if they studied here more often, they would get used to the walk at some point. He was too tired to care right now.

Melvin was the first to take a seat next to Simon on the couch, leaving the armchairs open for the girls. “This room is bigger than my house,” the man mumbled. 

Simon only shrugged. He couldn’t argue with the fact that this room was big. This whole place was enormous. It was a palace, after all. He wouldn’t — and couldn’t — deny the fact that, yes, he lived a life that was very, very different from that of his classmates. He couldn’t deny that after moving on from Hillerska, he was now the over-privileged rich kid in his class.

He took comfort in knowing that he wasn’t spoiled. He never had been, even though Wille had begged to spoil him. Simon was rich now — or at least living in the luxury of it — but he was not like some of the assholes he had gone to high school with. He wasn’t like Vincent, for example, who had never grown out of his “I’m better than everyone” phase.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Sofia,” Engla chuckled as she took a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table. There were perfectly fine chairs for her to sit on, but she chose the floor instead.

“Fuck you, Engla!” Sofia snapped back, finding a home on one of Wille’s favorite armchairs.

Simon smiled at the small interaction. For the first time in weeks, it felt somewhat normal. Engla was sitting on the floor, Sofia was snapping at her friend. That was familiar to them. Sofia was still sitting a little straighter, Engla was still looking around and trying not to get caught taking in the sights, but it didn’t feel too out of place. The strangest part about it was actually the fact that the two women weren’t talking about his boyfriend. 

Simon tried to hide his laugh when his phone lit up with a notification. It was on the table, which meant — for the first time — his lock screen was on display for everyone to see. Sofia turned beet red when she saw the photo of him and Wille kissing at Christmas last year. It had been his lock screen for a long time, but he had always been pretty good at hiding it. He was somewhat grateful that the text message had only been from Maddie and not Wilhelm. He didn’t know how Sofia would react to seeing an actual text message from the man she had been ranting about for the last several months. Simon was half convinced she’d fall over and die on the expensive carpet. Filipa would have a hard time getting those stains out. 

Sofia was itching to ask questions, and he could see it. Every few seconds, she would open her mouth as if she were about to say something, and then she’d look around, close her mouth, and shrink ever so slightly back into her seat. A month ago, this awkward silence wouldn’t have carried out as long as it had. She would have said everything that came to mind without a filter. She would have been talking about Wilhelm right now, had she not known who Simon really was. 

Part of him missed it. He missed the amusement that bubbled in his stomach every time Sofia was so confident in a wrong statement. He missed the chaos of knowing but never telling. He even missed the annoyance that built in his chest every time Sofia speculated about Wilhelm’s love life because she had never mentioned him. He was relieved for everything to finally be out in the open, though. He was relieved that he wouldn’t be nervous every time he was in public with these new friends. He was happy that he wouldn’t be hiding every time a stranger looked at him funny while he was in the presence of his study group. He really was glad that they knew who he was now. 

He still missed the excitement of the beginning of the semester, though. The fun he’d had with the anonymity he had been craving ever since he’d been forced into the limelight just over three years ago. He would miss his little game he’d played with these girls. He would miss the way it felt to be anonymous again.

Engla was far more obvious about her inspection of all the things around her than Sofia was. She had even toyed with the book in the middle of the table — a book written by Walter and displayed proudly in their house. Engla stopped touching it when she saw that it was signed with a personal note to the couple. Simon let the smile on his face widen with the knowledge that Engla respected him, even if she had been a little ditzy with her comments about Wilhelm before. 

Melvin was Melvin. He got straight to work with his notecards, pushing his glasses higher on his nose and burying his face in their textbook. Beyond the occasional glance at his watch or his phone, Melvin didn’t really seem to notice that he was at a royal palace. But if Simon remembered correctly, Melvin sent his daughter to the Hillerska of daycares — where Wilhelm had gone and where they would one day send their own kids. This was most likely not his first time dealing with nobility. Simon had probably met some of the people Melvin conversed with daily about his child’s wellbeing. 

They had gotten about an hour of work done before Wilhelm waltzed in. He was sweaty and in his running clothes. Simon knew he’d gone for a run, of course, but he had neglected to inform his guests that Wille would be stopping back in before his dinner. He could have sworn the souls left the bodies of his friends as they all scrambled to their feet, mumbling half-greetings and small apologies.

Wilhelm stopped in the doorway, completely bewildered by the sudden attention. He nearly spilled the hot drink in his hand as he stumbled back a few steps. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he called over the chaos. “It’s alright. I’m at home. You don’t have to stand to greet me or anything. Please make yourself comfortable. Any friend of Simon is a friend of mine.” 

Melvin took the sentiment to heart quickly, offering a firm nod and then sitting back down. “Sorry… just… I’ll get used to it.” He waved his hand dismissively at himself and then pulled his book back into his lap. Simon was sure Melvin would get used to it. If any of them were going to get used to it, it would be Melvin. He had the patience of a saint and a mind that could run circles around pretty much anyone.

Engla took a deep breath and then slowly but surely made her way back to the floor. She watched the Crown Prince carefully as he entered the room, though, making sure to never let her eye wander far from him. She picked up her pen when she finally made herself comfortable again, but she never brought it to the paper. It just sat between her fingers idly as she followed Wilhelm.

Sofia…  

Well, Sofia watched him like a hawk.

She held her breath and didn’t let go until Wilhelm had passed her. He didn’t need anything more than a subtle nod from Simon to know which girl this was — she was the one who was obsessed with him. He had dealt with plenty of fangirls (and boys) in the past. He knew what they looked like, what they acted like, and how they responded to his acknowledgement. So Wilhelm only offered her a small, charming smile and a nod of his head, and he paid her little attention. Soon she managed to actually sit back down in her armchair, though it seemed to Simon like it took her way too long to realize she was even still standing. 

Wille, still sweaty and gross from his run, made his way over to Simon and extended the warm cup to him. “Tea for your throat,” he said. 

Simon groaned lightly and shook his head. “Nej, kaffe. Snälla, Wille.” His voice was still hoarse from his cold. He knew he didn’t sound good. He knew he sounded sick. His begging probably wasn’t very attractive, either, but he’d been holed up in Haga for three days now and he was not above begging his love for what he wanted. It wasn’t like Wilhelm hadn’t heard him sick before. It wasn’t the first time Wilhelm had heard him beg before, either.

But Wilhelm, of course, knew better. He pushed the warm cup into Simon’s hand and shook his head. “You’re going to want coffee later, and you know it. If you have coffee now and coffee later, you’re not going to sleep tonight.” Wilhelm ran his thumb over Simon’s cheek, relieved to find he no longer had that pesky mild fever. Simon turned his head into the embrace without thinking about his current company. “You’re still recovering from Liechtenstein, my love. You need to sleep at night.” 

Simon gave in, no matter how badly he wanted to argue. Wilhelm was right, and he always was when it came to Simon. So he sipped the tea that Wilhelm had perfectly brewed and he ignored the fact that Engla and Sofia were watching his every move like he was the most interesting biological marvel in the world — far more interesting than anything in their textbooks. And when Wilhelm leaned in to kiss him, Simon let it happen, though he almost immediately regretted it. 

“Ew, you smell bad. It smells like you just went on a run.” Simon scrunched his nose up as he shoved Wilhelm’s face away from his. 

“Excuse you! I was just trying to greet you properly,” Wilhelm retorted with a teasing smile. They could both see Sofia clearly let out a deep breath from her chair. It was as if she was worried about how Wille might react to Simon telling him he smelled bad. Sure, Wilhelm was a prince, but he was also just some guy and when he smelled bad, Simon told him so. Wilhelm just flicked the cup in Simon’s hand with a grin. “I made you tea and everything.” 

Simon took another loud sip of his tea with a smirk, but wasn’t quite done with his boyfriend yet. As much as he loved teasing him — and he absolutely did — there were also some moments when the teasing made room for the truth.

“You need to shower,” Simon said candidly. 

Wilhelm nodded his head. He knew. He didn’t need to be told. He appreciated that Simon was willing to be honest about it, though. Had he not been aware of the fact that he smelled like he’d just been on a run, he was grateful Simon wouldn’t have let him go to dinner still smelling. “I just wanted to greet our guests considering I have to leave soon,” he said. He checked Erik’s watch for the time, and Simon already knew that Wilhelm would be behind. He had stopped to make Simon tea, which was not something on the very busy schedule for the day. 

Simon knew it wasn’t because he had memorized the schedule so that he would know when he’d actually be able to see his boyfriend — after dinner or in the shower were the only open times. “You can greet them after you shower,” Simon pushed (both metaphorically and physically). 

Wilhelm rolled his eyes with a scoff, but leaned back in for another quick kiss. “Alright, alright! I’m going.” Wilhelm gave a gentle nod to the guests in the room and then started to make his exit.

He wasn’t entirely comfortable around new people. He never knew where he stood with them, and based on Simon’s descriptions of what had been going on in this group over the last semester, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know where he stood with Engla and Sofia. Celebrity crush had been a phrase thrown around quite a bit in their house over the last month, and Wilhelm wasn’t entirely fond of it.

Simon called after Wilhelm as he walked through the door that separated the parlor from their suite. “Mi vida, use the blue towels, please! The green ones are getting old, and I’m going to give them to the groomer for Fluffles.” 

Wille laughed to himself and called back over his shoulder as the door began to close behind him. “Bossy.”

“You love it,” was all Simon said in return, and he said it under his breath as if it had been an afterthought. It all sounded ridiculously domestic, and had you told Simon two years ago that this was where he’d be, he would have laughed in your face. Twenty years old and living with the Crown Prince — the love of his life — and he was the one concerned about which towels were best to use. 

Kristina had trained him well. 

He and Melvin went back to studying. They quizzed each other back and forth and debated about which answer was more proper for the questions asked. Simon quickly decided that ambiguous questions were his worst enemy, and he hated them with a burning passion. Melvin didn’t seem to have the same distaste for them, his response always being “sometimes science is ambiguous.”

It was just as it had been all semester long for the two of them.

Engla and Sofia, though, didn’t get back to work as quickly. Simon tried to keep his attention trained on his textbook — chapter fifteen specifically — but he could feel their eyes on him. He could sense their staring and their silent questions. He could see them glancing at each other, then their phones, then back to him. Not once did he ever see either of them pay attention to their books or their notes.

He was only able to concentrate for about twenty-five minutes before he cracked. 

Simon threw his head back on the couch with a loud groan and rubbed his eyes. “Please just ask,” he begged them. Melvin had finally looked up at the commotion and realized he was the only one who had been getting any actual studying done. Engla and Sofia looked slightly mortified that they had been caught, but they also hadn’t directed their attention away from Simon in the slightest. “I can feel you staring at me.” 

Engla shifted uncomfortably on the floor, turning her blush-stained face towards her lap. “Sorry, I’m just—” 

Whatever her statement was going to be, she never got to finish it. Because Sofia took Simon’s statement as an open invitation and barreled past any remaining embarrassment that was keeping her tongue from talking laps around them all. “You’ve been living here — dating him — this whole time, and you didn’t think to tell us?” she asked. 

Simon, for all intents and purposes, was exasperated. This was not his fault. This had never been his fault. Had he dragged it out a little longer than he should have? Yes, probably. Should he have told them the first day exactly who he was? Again, probably. But this was not his fault.

Sofia had plenty of opportunities to look him up. Sofia and Engla both could have seen his face on a magazine cover on any odd day of the year. They both had plenty of time to figure out that Simon wasn’t just some guy. Melvin had, and they could have to. It was not his fault that their celebrity infatuation had blinded them to reality. 

“It’s not like you didn’t have the opportunity to know, Sofia,” he pointed out as he brought his gaze back down from the ceiling. “I am in the news all the time.” It was a fact. Simon had been in the news three days ago when he got back from his and Wille’s state trip. Had Sofia gotten her news from anywhere other than TikTok or Instagram, she would have known who he was a long time ago. Engla, too, for that matter. 

Speaking of Engla, though she avoided eye contact, she was still very much invested in this conversation. “That’s not true!” she argued. Simon glanced over at her with furrowed brows. He always thought Engla was the smart one between the two, but now she was going to argue about how well Simon knew his own media presence. The tables had turned. “Your face is rarely in the news.” 

Well, okay, that point was not entirely false. His unobstructed face was rarely in the news. When he was shown, it was typically the side of his face, or half of his face hidden by Wilhelm’s shoulder, or the back of his head. They had done that on purpose to protect Simon. But his name had always been — and always would be — public knowledge. It had been that way since he was sixteen years old. His name was in the news constantly, and it was always on anything that involved the Royal Family. And once in a blue moon, Simon’s full face would end up on blogs or in the news or on a social media post from Wilhelm. Simon was fully accessible to the public. He was a household name to most people in the country. 

Just not these two idiots. 

Melvin, bless his nerdy soul, was on Simon’s side. “His face might not be in the news, but his name is.” Melvin and Simon shared a brain, apparently. Simon could have kissed him for that. “And if you Google him, he comes up. Actually, the first picture is of him and the Crown Prince together.” 

“Thank you, Melvin!” Simon exclaimed. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that Melvin had Googled him. He supposed he also would have Googled Melvin if the roles were reversed. And, technically, he did have an entire file about Melvin at his desk in the office. That was more in-depth than any Google search would ever be. Simon knew this man’s blood type, but absolutely could not tell you what his favorite color was. Gun held to his head, Simon probably would have guessed yellow, and he would have been wrong. Melvin’s favorite color was pink. 

Sofia huffed in annoyance and forcefully flipped a page in her notebook. “I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell us.” Her irritation radiated off of her and through the room, but Simon wouldn’t acknowledge it. Her annoyance grew from embarrassment, and he knew it. He wouldn’t humiliate her more by calling her out for it. 

This would blow over. It always did. And if it didn’t, then Sofia didn’t need to be around. As much as he hated saying shit like that, he had grown used to it over the years. There were some people who couldn’t accept who Simon was — what his position as a future Consort was — and they were people who didn’t stick around long. He barely kept in contact with anyone from Bjärstad anymore. Rosh, Ayub and his Mama were the only three. His relationship with Sara was still rocky, but she lived in Stockholm now, so it was easier to keep up with her than the others. 

Everyone else — those who never got used to the addition of Wilhelm in his life — had become background noise. They were people he had not needed and would never need again. They were unimportant, and their lack of support was dangerous when they refused to acknowledge that Simon was well known now. 

Simon had gotten used to cutting people out of his life. However, that had come at the price of many mistakes. He had called people out for their embarrassment before and it had gone… poorly . He wouldn’t do that to Sofia.

Sofia, whom he actually cared for quite a bit. 

He sunk back into the couch as the silence consumed them again. It was tense and slightly uncomfortable, but he did his best to ignore it and the very unsubtle way Engla and Sofia kept glancing at each other and silently arguing over who would be the next to ask him a question. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter which one asked the next question, he would still answer it. No matter how ignorant it might have been. He wanted them to know.

He’d mostly stopped thinking about his study session as he noticed Wilhelm was running out of time. He sent off a brief text to inform the Crown Prince of his quickly-dwindling timeframe, but Wille never responded. It was getting dangerously close to when he had to leave, and he hadn’t yet emerged from their suite. That’s probably why Simon didn’t think much of Malin’s panicked expression when she walked into the room. He wished he had thought more about that, but he didn’t.

“Malin, does he know what time it is?” he asked her. 

Malin shook her head frantically as she got closer to him. “I’m not sure about Wilhelm, but you should probably know that—” 

“Simon!” 

Fuck. If there was one person in the entire world that he thought would send his guests into cardiac arrest, it was her. Why was she here? 

“Kristina, what the hell?” he exclaimed loudly as his three guests jumped to their feet at the speed of sound. He didn’t get up with them. They all did the song and dance of greeting her properly and bowing as she addressed them, but Simon didn’t move. This was his house, goddammit, and Kristina had shown up unannounced. She’d shown up unannounced when she knew he had company over.

Part of him wondered if she had done this on purpose. She had been rather amused herself as Simon recounted his semester of secrecy at family dinner a few weeks ago. Amused and impressed by Simon’s ability to keep his identity a secret for several months. 

Part of him knew Kristina showed up to get Wilhelm just so she could see the three other people in Simon’s study group. He knew she wanted to see them in person — judge them in person. Part of him was amused by it, actually. 

“Why are you here?” he asked as she walked over to the couch. It had taken a while to get to this point, but the longer he and Wilhelm stayed together, the less Kristina could deny how happy they were, and the less she wanted to. Simon and Kristina got along well, now. (Key word being now.) They had their moments — they were terrifyingly similar in their stubbornness — but they had a growing fondness for one another. Kristina and Simon had begun to love each other as well as a family could, given the circumstances. She was going to be his mother-in-law whether they liked it or not, and she had a void to fill from a son gone too soon. Simon seemed to fill that void. 

“Can’t I just come to collect my son for dinner?” she asked as she ran her hands over his shoulders. “You look better, gubben. I’m glad Wille convinced you to take a few days off.” 

He hummed at the sentiment and put his book on the coffee table next to his tea. Simon stood and let himself be collected into a hug, though he didn’t think hugging Kristina would ever get any less strange. She gave good hugs, for what it was worth. Not quite as good as Wilhelm’s, and certainly not as good as his own Mama’s, but good nonetheless.

“You didn’t answer my question, Krissy,” he stated. He knew she hated the nickname and despised how easily it slipped from his mouth. It had become part of his vocabulary, though he mostly used it when he was teasing her. The fact that he could tease the Queen of Sweden would never be something anyone got used to — not even him.

Not even her. 

Sofia and Engla, he saw from the corner of his eye, were holding each other upright. They had jumped across the room in order to keep each other stable. They didn’t know what to do. Not with their hands, not with their legs, not with their words. Kristina hadn’t told them they could sit, so they hadn’t. Melvin hadn’t either, actually. Proper etiquette was to not sit until the Queen, herself, had been seated — unless told otherwise. They had not been told otherwise, and to them it did not matter that she was a Queen-off-duty.

To them, she was just the Queen. 

Kristina sighed and sat down on the arm of the couch. Only then did the others follow her lead, though they did so incredibly slowly, as if unsure if there was a time limit on these kinds of things. She was polite to them when she came in, and she would be polite to them while she was here, but she and Simon exchanged a look and they both knew that this entire interaction was a bit uncomfortable. Especially considering that this was their place of residency. They felt like fish out of water in their own pond.

“Are you sure you can’t come tonight?” she asked. There it was. That was what Simon had been waiting for. That was why she had personally come to get Wille. That was why she had shown up at his house unannounced. She was hoping she could change his mind at the last minute. Kristina brushed an overgrown curl off of Simon’s forehead gently. Later, in private, she would tell him he should cut it. Wilhelm would beg him not to, and Simon would let it grow for another month before he crushed Wilhelm’s heart with a haircut. “If you’re feeling better, of course.” 

Simon rolled his eyes dramatically and shook his head. In his twenty years of life, he could confidently say he had never met a woman this dedicated to her schemes — except maybe Stella. “We have to study, Kristina. I have to study, since I took two weeks off to go to Liechtenstein in your place,” he pointed out. Kristina would never feel guilty about sending him to Liechtenstein, but she would feel guilty if Simon ended up failing his classes, so he was riding on the hope that she would think about that. He had other excuses, though. More pressing ones. “Plus, I have guests. Do you want me to just leave them here by themselves?” 

And, no, she didn’t.

The idea of having guests in Haga was already turning her hair gray. Leaving those guests alone would give her a heart attack. She glanced around at the group sitting there with Simon, taking in every detail. The first thing she noticed was Sofia’s eagerness. She was leaning forward in her chair, hanging on every word that left either of their mouths. Kristina knew many, many people like this. She found most of them insufferable — August . Then she noticed Engla’s avoidance. She avoided eye contact, as if hoping she wouldn’t be called on. Kristina knew a lot of people like that, too — Wilhelm. Last, she noticed Melvin’s nonchalance about the whole thing. The tension in his shoulders that had been there a moment before had mostly vanished, now replaced with a kind of hypervigilance. He was prepared to speak, and he was paying attention to every word spoken, but he wasn’t nervous. Kristina knew very few people like that, and she valued them all — Simon. 

“Bernadette would love to see you, I’m sure,” she tried. It was a last attempt and a weak one, which was why they both knew Simon would be winning this faux argument. 

Simon scoffed at her. “Well, if Bernadette is going, then I am certainly not.” Simon wouldn’t say he hated Bernadette — because, really, he didn’t — but he would say that he would rather have dinner with just about anyone else. Bernadette was a trophy wife — fifteen years younger than her husband — and one that liked wine. Snobbishly liked wine. And she annoyingly adored Simon for a reason no one fully understood.

Kristina let out a defeated sigh, resting her hand on Simon’s shoulder and shaking him just slightly. “Fine,” she gave in. “At least let me leave Fredrik with you.” It was her way of letting Simon know that she didn’t entirely trust the three people sitting in this room. It was her way of saying that she cared about his safety without straight up saying that she didn’t like his guests. Because, no matter how much she really didn’t care for them, she couldn’t just say that.

Simon snorted at her gesture. “Kristina, we both know you’re going to leave Fredrik here anyway.” The Queen feigned confusion, but Simon was unimpressed. His guests were holding their breath. “Last time, I found him in the bushes because you told him to stay and I told him to go and he didn’t know which one of us to listen to.” It was a true story and one that Fredrik valiantly tried to forget. Simon brought it up every time he possibly could, just to fuck with him. 

Kristina smoothed out her skirt as she stood. She nodded to the other three in the room as if to assure them that they could keep sitting, and they did through their obvious discomfort. “He listens to me, obviously,” she said. “I’m the Queen.” 

Simon rolled his eyes and followed her as she walked to the bar. She would ask him to get her a drink whether or not he offered his services, so he saved her the breath. She didn’t know where they kept the cups, anyway. “Yes, Kristina, you are the Queen,” he agreed as he grabbed a glass from the bottom shelf. “But this is my house, and he is my house’s security. He listens to me.” Which, for the most part, was true. Fredrik was soon to be Simon’s head of security (when he finally relented and allowed for the royal court to provide him with security), but as of right now, Fredrik worked for Haga. Since Simon was the current resident of Haga, Fredrik worked for him.  

“Actually,” Wilhelm said loudly as he finally reentered the room, “he works for me.” And, yes, that was the most correct statement about Fredrik’s loyalty. He worked for the royal that lived in Haga Palace, and that royal was Wilhelm. “I told Fredrik to stay as long as Simon wants him here. I trust our guests know better than to assassinate the future prince consort in his own home.” 

Much to Simon’s amusement, there was a mumble of agreement from his classmates as Wilhelm slotted himself at Simon’s side. The prince pressed a quick kiss to his temple as he finished pouring water for Kristina. Knowing Bernadette was going to be at the dinner was enough for Simon to know that the Queen certainly did not need to pre-game it. She would be plenty drunk by the time she left that meal, if Bernadette had any say in it. Which she would. Oh, she would.  

Simon turned quickly and pressed a kiss to the underside of Wille’s jaw as Kristina sipped the water. Simon caught Sofia staring at the Queen’s throat as she swallowed. He wouldn’t call her out on that, but my God, was it strange. Engla was whispering something Simon couldn’t quite make out, but he didn’t need to hear it to know that she was freaking the fuck out in her current company. He supposed any rational person would freak out if the Queen just randomly walked into the middle of their study session. Simon had forgotten for a moment that this interruption wasn’t normal for everyone. He was not any rational person.  

The freak out from his classmates was only made worse as Kristina, honest to God, tried to make small talk with the three of them. She asked about their classes and Melvin’s daughter and Sofia’s overly friendly roommate. That last one made Simon want to die because it only confirmed that he had been telling the royal family all about them and the embarrassing things they’d said before Simon’s identity was revealed.

It was when Kristina started to lean more into “so you really didn’t know Simon was—” that he cut her off completely. 

“Don’t you two have somewhere to be, Kristina?” he asked forcefully. Now, he wouldn’t full out tell the Queen of Sweden to get the fuck out of his house — not in current company, at least — but the sentiment was there and everyone knew it. Simon pulled Wille’s hand up to his face and checked the time on Erik’s watch. “I’m pretty sure Minou had Wille leaving here about ten minutes ago on the schedule. You two should really hit the road if you want to make it on time.”

Being punctual was the first lesson Kristina had taught him, though she rarely followed that rule herself. He supposed she didn’t need to follow that rule being the Queen. Rooms waited for her, not the other way around.

Kristina checked her own watch with a sigh, but agreed. And then the battle of getting Wilhelm to leave Simon began. A battle that was often fought and rarely won. Had Wilhelm been given the opportunity, he would have abandoned his dinner plans and spent the whole night baking for the study group. But Simon wouldn’t allow that. 

Not because he didn’t want it, but because he thought Sofia might actually burst into flames if she were forced to be in a room with him for another minute. Her face was turning purple from just how long she had been holding her breath. Simon was honestly impressed that she hadn’t passed out yet.

He watched Engla’s mouth fall open as he quite literally pushed the Crown Prince towards the door. “There’s wine if you want some,” Wille said. He was just trying to say anything that would keep him at home for a few minutes longer. 

Simon, of course, knew that. He had been with Wille for over three years now. He knew Wilhelm like the back of his hand and he knew Wille was avoiding leaving for that dinner. Unfortunately, Wilhelm’s excuses to stay and talk were stupid. “I know, Wille.” 

“Feel free to open anything you want,” he kept going. As adorable as it was, Simon was starting to get annoyed. His study mates were watching them instead of actually studying, and he was pretty sure that was going to be a recurring theme tonight. He was more annoyed with the situation than with Wilhelm, but the Crown Prince just kept going. “And you can drink the bourbon, but please don’t use Erik’s decanter to serve. Use the one Sara bought us.” 

“Yes, Wille, I know.” 

“And if you want white wine, we already have an open bottle in the fridge from my dinner with Nils last night.” 

Simon was literally shoving Wilhelm out the door at this point. Kristina was following behind him, completely and utterly done with her son. Her annoyance was practically tangible, and Simon’s was, too. “I know, Wille,” Simon tried again. 

Wilhelm, The Crown Prince of Sweden, could not take a hint if his life depended on it. “And if you’re hungry, Shana is—” 

“Wilhelm!” Simon shouted, simply to get this man’s attention. Wilhelm was like a dog with a bone — he would not let go. Sofia let out a small yelp of surprise and Simon was pretty sure he saw Engla’s soul actually leave her body, but he couldn’t be bothered to check on them right now. Wilhelm had somewhere to be, and Simon was going to make sure he got there. “I know, baby. It’s my house, too. I live here. I’ve lived here for just as long as you have.” Simon motioned around aimlessly. Melvin followed his gestures with his eyes, but Kristina and Wilhelm just kept their stares trained on Simon. Wilhelm was fighting a blush that was climbing on his cheeks — a fight that didn’t get any easier as Simon placed his hand on the side of his neck. “I know that Shana is here until 10. I know there is wine in the wine cellar . I know Fluffles needs to go out in an hour, and I know that Antony is leaving early tonight to take his wife to the baby doctor. I will be fine. Please go eat dinner with the French Diplomat and his… charming wife.” 

Charming was certainly a word for Bernadette, and suddenly Wilhelm’s mind was on a completely different track — a new bone to pick and not let go of, so to speak. He turned to his mother with a genuine look of betrayal in his eyes that Simon hadn’t seen in a very long time. “You didn’t tell me that Bernadette was going to be there,” he whined.

Kristina let out an irritated tsk and smacked Simon upside the head as she passed him. “Thank you for that, Simon. Well done.” The Queen marched out of the parlor, murmuring to herself irritatedly, and called back about how Wilhelm needed to get moving no matter how much he disliked the guest list. 

Simon pressed a kiss to Wille’s lips and then shoved him out the door full force. “Goodbye! I love you.”

And then Wilhelm was gone. Or he was gone for as long as Kristina could keep him hostage. They all knew Wille would spend the entire night trying to find an excuse to get back to Simon, and eventually one of those excuses would stick.

Melvin was doing his very best to pretend like he had studied through that entire ordeal, but Simon caught his eye as he turned around. The other two didn’t even bother to hide their bafflement. They were bewildered, and it showed, and he didn’t blame them. Engla looked like a deer in the headlights and she was no longer even holding onto her pen. It had fallen into her notebook at some point during that whole circus, and she didn’t bother to pick it back up. Sofia finally allowed herself to breathe again, her mouth hung open and ready to catch flies. 

Simon skillfully ignored those bewildered stares as he took his seat once again on the couch. He did not bother to pick up his textbook this time. He knew he would not be using it. Having Wilhelm walk into their study session after his run was one thing, but it was an entirely different thing for Kristina to walk in and treat him like he was part of the family — which he was. He knew he wouldn’t need that textbook, because in approximately five seconds, Sofia was going to—

“They’re just… people,” she whispered to herself. She stared at her fingers as they twisted in her lap and for the first time since he met her, Simon didn’t think she knew what else to say. Sofia always had something to say. She never stopped talking, even when she should.

“Uh… yeah,” he said, almost equally quiet. “Why wouldn’t they be?” 

Sofia looked up at him quickly, that familiar stare of bewilderment filling her entire expression. It was as if her entire world view had just come crashing down. And Simon supposed it had. Everything she thought she knew about the man she had been obsessing over was simply wrong.

“I mean… I guess, I just always…” She stumbled over every word. Sofia had never struggled with words before. She always said too many, actually. Simon often wondered how to shut her up. “They’ve always been so far away. So untouchable. It didn’t occur to me that the Crown Prince runs in his free time, or that the Queen knows which people he doesn’t enjoy having dinner with, or that—”

“Or that he’s not an object?” Simon didn’t mean to snap at her. Not really. It had all started innocently. No matter how it had ended, it had started innocently.

At the beginning of the semester, it hadn’t bothered him much that Sofia talked about his boyfriend. But the more she did — the more she said, the more she claimed to know — the less okay Simon became with it. Because she was nearly never right, and she almost never thought of him as a human. Wilhelm had always been the icon — the ideal, the sex symbol, the monarch. He had never been the man. She had never once considered him a man.

And it made Simon so angry. “It never occurred to you that he has feelings, or nervous habits, or a mind of his own. You never stopped to think about his mother, or his dog, or the man he goes to bed with every night. You didn’t stop to think about any of that, did you?” 

Sofia looked somewhere between shocked and humiliated. Simon had never spoken to her like this before. He had never sounded this powerful. And, looking back, it was probably only because she had never known he had any. She hadn’t known Simon held any power, so she never thought of him as powerful. She knew now, and she suddenly felt naked in a room full of strangers.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Simon.” Sofia’s voice was soft and sincere. Simon even believed her. He believed she was sorry. He just didn’t know what she was sorry for. She was definitely sorry she had been called out, but he didn’t know if she was sorry for the thing she’d been called out for. “We didn’t—” 

“Think? You didn’t think, and you really should have.” Simon wasn’t even angry with her. Or he hadn’t been ten minutes ago. He didn’t really know where this was coming from. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t defended Wille against her in months. Maybe it was her hundreds of snarky comments. Maybe it was the way she thought she knew Wilhelm better than him. Whatever it was, Simon was fully done with it and he was going to get it out of his system. “Hell, Melvin was the only one decent enough to keep his thoughts to himself, and he even stood up to you when you talked about Wille being on a date. Which, by the way, Princess Cecile is sixteen, and she’s actually quite a lovely young woman. She stays here when she comes to Sweden, and she knows very well who sleeps in the Crown Prince’s bed and it is not her — a child.” 

Princess Cecile was a child. Sofia had made jokes and comments about Wilhelm being on a date with a child. She didn’t even know Cecile was a child because she didn’t care to look it up. Sofia had never done research. She never looked farther than the flashes of a pretty prince’s smile on her phone.

Had she done research, she probably would have known about Simon a hell of a lot sooner than she did. Engla, too, for that matter, though that woman seemed to have the common sense to not outwardly blame Simon for her own ignorance. 

Simon huffed loudly and picked up his phone. In his annoyance, the only thing he could think of was how badly he wanted — needed — a goddamn cup of coffee. So as the others in the room did their best to keep or regain their composure (and/or dignity) Simon texted Fredrik and asked if someone could do a coffee run. The answer was, as always, yes. 

And when he was done, and his phone was back on the couch, he looked back at Sofia, who looked close to tears. Part of him felt bad. Part of him wanted to assure her that it was alright, and that he didn’t hate her. But another part of him — a stronger part of him — wanted her to learn her lesson. He wanted her to know that the things she said about people she did not know did hold weight. That they did still mean something. That she wasn’t powerless just because she wasn’t known.

“I—” she opened and closed her mouth a few times, swallowing a lump in her throat. Simon resisted the urge to outwardly compare Sofia to a fish as she took a shaky breath. “I’d like to hear about your boyfriend. Not the Crown Prince. The… the man you care about. I’d like to hear about him.” 

Simon felt his heart melt just a little bit, and he relaxed into his seat — they weren’t going to argue anymore, and Sofia was going to try. It was such a simple sentiment, but suddenly home felt like home again, and Sofia felt like a friend once more. “What would you like to know?” he asked. 

A soft smile returned to her lips. It was a smile he didn’t think he had seen in weeks. Certainly not one he had seen since she arrived at his home. Sofia looked good when she smiled, and even better when she laughed, which she had started to. “Why don’t we start with everything I got wrong?” 

And that made Simon laugh with her instead of at her. 

Engla had gotten up from the floor and plopped herself down on the couch in between Melvin and Simon. Melvin threw his book down on the table, seemingly accepting that this study session was not going to — and was probably never going to — consist of any studying.

“What’s his favorite color actually?” Engla loudly whispered to Simon. 

This Simon could do. He could answer questions about Wilhelm. His Wilhelm. He could tell his friends about his boyfriend. Even if they were hyper-aware of the fact that Wille was a prince, he could pretend for just a moment that the position held no weight. “His favorite color is green, but his mother will tell you it’s blue so that we sound more patriotic,” he answered with a grin. 

Sofia bounced in her seat and clapped her hands like a child. “What’s his favorite food?” 

Simon rolled his eyes and threw his head back against the couch. “My mama’s empanadas with hot sauce. He can handle more spice than it looks.” That was surprising to everyone who ever came across the Crown Prince. It had been surprising to Simon when they first started dating. From the looks of him, Simon would have thought a chile pepper would kill Wilhelm on sight. He was shocked and delighted to find out that Wille could keep up with him in spice tolerance — maybe even handle more. 

Melvin also decided to get in on the questions, though his were a little less trivial. Melvin didn’t have a crush on Wilhelm, though, so that made sense. “Are we supposed to know that you two are getting married?” he asked. It was something neither Simon nor Wilhelm had considered when inviting these three around. They didn’t know the couple like their other friends did. They didn’t know about the plans for the future. “I don’t want to say something to my girlfriend that I can’t take back and stuff.” 

Melvin was an angel and Simon, once again, thought he could kiss him. 

“We haven’t announced anything to the public or anything, but we don’t hide it, either,” Simon answered. “We have plans to get married in a few years, but there haven’t been any wedding preparations.” 

Engla shook Simon by the shoulders repeatedly. He bounced like a bobblehead. “Why are you in school when you could be here all day long every day? It’s perfect!” she exclaimed.

He laughed at her antics, but refused to argue. He didn’t think explaining his reasons to them would make them question him any less. It wasn’t like he would ever have a job. His job would always be Prince Consort of Sweden. And he was content with that. The normality of having a degree was something entirely different from his duty to the Crown — to Wilhelm. Everyone close to him understood that, and he didn’t feel the need to explain himself to anyone else. 

For several hours, and through several rounds of coffee, they just talked. About Wilhelm, about Simon, about the class they were all supposed to be studying for. They talked about Sofia and how she wanted to move out of her dorms. Simon mentioned that he owned an apartment that he was thinking of subletting if anyone was looking for somewhere to stay. That brought up the fact that Engla was also looking to move, as her mother was actually insane. The girls were already thinking about finding a place together, and Simon had an empty apartment just waiting there. Sometimes things just worked out.

They talked about Melvin. About his daughter. They talked about how he thought he was going to have to drop out when his high school girlfriend got pregnant at seventeen. They were all very glad he didn’t. They were pretty sure they would have failed their biology class if he weren’t part of their study group. They talked about his new girlfriend and how she was eager to be part of his daughter’s life — much to his visible delight. Melvin was cute when he was excited, and he giddily showed them all pictures of his charming little family. Simon offered them an open invitation to dinner at Haga. He mentioned that Fluffles didn’t have many playdates (Felice had a cat, Sara had a horse, and Henry and Walter’s husky was ancient), and a toddler might be right up Fluffles’ golden retriever alley. 

And things were good.

When the trio filed out the door and into a large black SUV headed back towards the city, things were good. The group had found its groove again and had even managed to knock out a practice test at the end of the night. 

Wilhelm found Simon still reading over his textbook when he returned from dinner. He was quick to slide the book out of his hands and set it down on the coffee table. He took a seat and repositioned them so that Simon was laying against his chest. Wille kept trying to press small kisses to his face, much to Simon’s annoyance.

“No, mi vida, por favor. I’ve been drinking coffee all night. I taste bad,” Simon groaned out. 

Wilhelm was far too in love to care. He pushed Simon’s chin up so that they were looking at each other once again. “Well, I’ve been drinking Bernadette’s favorite cherry wine, so we can taste bad together.”

Ah, yes, Bernadette’s horrid-tasting cherry wine that she forced upon everyone at any dinner she ever attended. Simon didn’t miss that, and he did his best not to grimace at the remaining taste of it on Wilhelm’s lips as they met his own.

“Did you have a nice night, sötnos?” Wilhelm asked.

Simon rested his chin on Wille’s chest and smiled softly. “Yeah, we did, actually.” He stared for a minute, taking in every part of Wille that he could. He had counted the freckles on Wille’s cheeks a hundred times by now. He knew the half-drunken flush like the back of his hand. He could see the words jag älskar dig twinkle in his eyes without having them ever actually spoken. Simon knew Wilhelm. More than any Sofia or Engla ever would. “We talked about you,” he confessed with a smirk.

Wille let out a loud, somewhat exhausted laugh and pulled Simon closer to him. “Oh? Did you now? Did Sofia teach you anything else about me?” 

He shook his head and leaned back up for another kiss that tasted horribly of cherry wine and coffee. “No… she mostly listened tonight. I think she might even be ready to meet you properly.”

And whether or not Wille believed him, it didn’t matter. Wilhelm trusted him either way. So when the day came that Simon properly introduced Wille to his new friends, he knew they would be ready, and he knew they would be kind.

Wilhelm ran his hand lazily over Simon’s back, his eyes half lidded and begging for sleep. “We should head to bed,” he mumbled. Simon nodded, but made no attempt to move. “You’re going to fall asleep on top of me, aren’t you?” 

And Simon Eriksson nodded again.