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“YES! Fuck yes Sverige Let’s GO!”
The screams and cheers echoing through the television are no match for Wilehelm’s enthusiastic shrieks. He’s off the couch, hands in the air, jumping like a mad man and staring down the screen as the Swedish women’s Olympic football team scores a penalty kick to clinch the game. A ray of light from the second floor open window streaks in and creates a glowing halo around his head and Simon is mesmerized.
Simon has truthfully had more fun watching Wille than paying close attention to the game. He cheers with his whole body, emotions playing themselves out easily on his face as he weathers the highs and the lows alongside the team.
As if to prove this point Wilhelm slides to his knees, still vibrating in excitement. With a grin Simon snatches up his phone, hitting record as Wilhelm yells out, “We’re in the finals, baby! Gold medal here we COME! Brisbane 2032!” He jumps back to his feet with a cheer and launches himself toward Simon as Simon taps again to end the recording. Laughing, he turns to show him.
“Can I post?”
Blushing, Wilhelm watches it back and laughs with him. “I didn’t curse in it... nothing too weird... Why the hell not. You know they'll all be pissed we didn’t run something like this through the proper channels first but the people deserve some content.” Handing the phone back over, Simon’s fingers brush against Wille’s and he smiles, wrinkling his face in the sun-kissed brunette’s direction.
Wilhelm shrugs nonchalantly, grin betraying his lingering joy. “Plus, seeing their future king enthusiastically cheering them on may be the push the team needs. Just saying. We deserve that gold!”
For Simon, shaking his head at the antics of the twenty-seven-year-old Crown Prince is as familiar a gesture as is kissing him, and he does both now.
Pulling back, he smirks. “You’re so cute when you’re excited.”
“And you, husband,” says Wilhelm a bit breathlessly, a hand on Simon’s hip, “are cute all the time.”
A shiver races up from Simon’s toes all the way to the top of his head. Hearing Wilhelm call him husband is still fresh and new, a thrill that leaves him giddy. Stepping closer, he accepts the forehead the taller man dips down to rest on his, a motion long comforting and intimate for them both. A gesture that says hi and I love you and we've got this and a thousand other unspoken words. For a moment, the commentators’ voices are the only sound in their sun-soaked, palatial sitting room. Simon breathes in deeply and rubs his nose against Wilhelm’s. He takes a step back.
“Wille, your cute husband is very hungry. Can we go find some food so we can get back up here? I’ve waited three extra days for you to get back home so we can watch ‘Red, White, and Royal Blue’ together and I’m tired of avoiding spoilers!”
It’s Wilhelm’s turn to shake his head. With an accommodating smile, he reaches out a hand which Simon takes readily. “Need ice cream too. I might need some comfort food if I find they did us dirty on adapting the book.”
As they walk down the hall toward the back staircase leading to the kitchens, Simon and Wille fall into a banter made easy after ten years together. Simon listens as Wilhelm intently explains why he will 'personally call the North American Netflix HQ and have words with someone' if any of his favorite scenes from the book were cut for time. Simon argues he's only setting himself up to be disappointed but thoroughly agrees with the sentiment.
Wrapping both his arms around Wilhelm’s left, Simon tugs him in close and threads their fingers together. A smile plays at the edge of his mouth as he leans his head on Wille’s shoulder while they walk. As Wille continues his passionate rant over the book detailing the love life of a fictional couple many have compared them to in both looks and social status over the years, Simon considers pinching himself to make sure the last decade hasn’t just been a wild fever dream.
His phone vibrates, grounding him to reality as they reach the kitchen, both giving warm greetings to the kitchen staff. Simon checks his message before looking over to his perfectly dreamy yet very real husband. “Sara and Felice are a little early, ‘bout ten minutes out. Wanna grab some extra dessert? They already ate lunch.” he runs a finger down Wille’s arm before turning toward the door. “I’ll call and give instructions to let ‘em in.”
Wilhelm sends him off with a brilliant smile and Simon practically levitates away, weightless in a sunbeam of Wilhelm’s beautiful golden love. Cheesy, he can admit to himself as he makes arrangements for Sara and Felice’s arrival, but accurate nonetheless. Maybe there’s some lyrics he can coax out of that thought, write a new song for his and Wille’s anniversary.
If only sixteen-year-old Simon could see himself now.