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“Soren, is that what you normally wear?”
Soren did not pay even a cursory glance to the sage green sweater he had drawn on. “Apparently, sir, this is what Soren the Wisconsin University Student normally wears.”
Prince Edvard— Eddie --scoffed in amusement, and said as he pulled open the dormitory door, “As long as you don't hide those dashing blues behind a pair of glasses.”
–
Watching Prince Edvard's licentious escapades may have been droll once upon a time, but now it was simply a dull and occasionally painful chore. In fact, Soren could describe Prince Edvard's attitude towards the opposite sex as rather disgusting.
So when the chemistry professor accused him and the Prince as engaging in “a lover's thing”, he was positively revolted by the very idea. Soren nearly stumbled in an attempt to put a bit of exonerating distance between them, thankfully mitigating said stumble to a mild shuffling of his feet and then passing it off easily as hesitation to leave the Prince's side.
Fortunately it was with trained ease that Soren resumed his mind, remembering that his duty was to guard the Prince with nothing to do on the subject of love. The Prince could conduct himself in matters of love however he saw fit as far as Soren's duty was concerned.
–
Soren seized his eyes upon the ramshackle kitchen set before him; while he had been subjected to the Prince's nakedness more times than seemed humanely necessary, at this specific instance there was a bothered reaction in him he now had to steel himself against. Perhaps it was the way he caught this particular girl beguiled at the sight of the Prince, words evading her clever mouth for a moment as she faced the bed-ruffled Prince lazily balancing his plate of Eggs Benedict.
After the young girl stormed from the room after demanding the Prince be punctual to their shared chemistry class, Soren couldn't help but let a smile taint his lips as he turned to the Prince. He had rather deserved her scolding; he couldn't have said it better himself. Nevermind that the smile may have also expressed relief that she had left and taken her wiles with her.
–
Soren stood by the door, dressed and waiting as the Prince pulled on one of his new American T-shirts in preparation to attend to his job at the delicatessen. The Prince had been in high spirits ever since Miss Paige had invited him to her family's estate for Thanksgiving; Soren, for his part, was rather disappointed in Miss Paige for her folly in falling for the Prince enough to extend the invitation.
Fraying his hair in a sweep of his fingers, Prince Edvard bolted towards the door and then stopped abruptly in front of Soren.
The Prince was still standing there a moment longer even after Soren had opened the door for him, his eyes trained as though in deep thought upon Soren's chest. “Sir?”
“Yes!” The Prince said, to himself, as though answering whatever ponderings had been taking place in his mind. He grasped Soren's wrist to compel him to pull the door shut, and the contact was all too bristling.
The Prince went on, “You're no help to me if you go on looking like that, hardly the picture of a real student.” Enthusiastically he dove back into the dormitory and rifled through the closet.
Collected, at least outwardly, Soren questioned; “Pardon, Your Highness? After all the time spent in your Wisconsin University classes you've managed to build a time machine in that closet, then?”
“Don't be ridiculous, Soren,” The Prince said, and then turned from the closet with a T-shirt, a pair of jeans and a vigorous grin. “Put this on.”
Soren caught the garments as they were thrown at him, spreading out a glimpse of the shirt's design between his arms. “'Scissor Sisters'?”
“Yes, it's a popular new band here. Go on!” The Prince anchored his hands onto his hips in that entitled manner of his.
Soren must have hesitated a moment too long because suddenly the Prince was upon him, tugging apart the buttons of Soren's shirt. “Come on Soren, we haven't got all night.”
Fumbling for words, Soren felt himself flushing, and Heaven forbid the Prince catch any notice of it -
“Sir!” Soren snapped, pushing away from the shocked Prince. He guarded the anger in his voice; “That will not be necessary.”
The Prince was too flabbergasted for response, and Soren opened the door once more. They left in tense silence, and as his frustration became unfettered Soren mulled endlessly over his irrational behavior.
It had only been a shirt, after all, but ever since the Prince had come home with the news of his Thanksgiving plans, Soren found himself growing shorter of temper. Perhaps the Prince really had managed to turn Soren into a twenty-year-old, petulance and all.
–
Kisses with Paige still fresh on his mind and on his lips, Eddie strode blissfully into his dormitory on his return from Thanksgiving at her family's farm, ready to fall into equally blissful, dreamy sleep until morning when he would see her –
Who -
Eddie paused in his doorway, staring at the disheveled and unfamiliar man playing a computer game in the middle of the room. When their dormmate, sitting dejectedly to the side, explained it was Soren , Eddie was baffled in more ways than one. He had nearly forgotten about Soren, just a bodyguard of no consequence, but as soon as he realized this man was him , Eddie was... floored.
Soren, his shirt unbuttoned, his cheeks scruffy and untended, legs splayed apart without a hint of shame as he leaned obsessively toward the computer screen, the light from which was blazing in reflection from his spectacles.
As Eddie shuffled into the room he felt his mouth quivering between a smile and dropping in awe. He couldn't stop staring – the man either looked like a complacent college student or a flop of a new dad. And why was his heart positively pounding at the sight of him?
It wasn't until he had climbed onto his mattress did he remember Paige, and unhelpfully a quote from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream plowed to the front of his mind; The course of true love never did run smooth.
–
The state of Soren, forever occupying the dormitory in his roguish mess, was entirely distracting over the next few days. It was diminishing the happiness he found with Paige, and sometimes he would even find himself thinking about Soren, wondering what he'd look like in that Scissor Sisters shirt, imagining him in his Terminator sunglasses as he spouts off monotone sarcasm, and that unreadable, never-smiling mouth of his...
Eddie flung open the door into the dormitory room, grinning fiendishly as he saw Soren sitting faithfully in front of the computer.
“My turn, Soren!” Eddie proclaimed, dropped his schoolbag and rounded the table for the couch. Soren was still much preoccupied with the dazzling screen, and Eddie met no obstacles as he draped himself into Soren's lap.
“What the heck - !” Soren gasped, the controller clattering to the ground as Eddie laid across his arms. His hands clasped to the Prince's body instead, as though protectively, the game-induced haze in his eyes fetched away as his spectacles tumbled off his face and he stared aghast at the Prince.
Eddie picked up the glasses in one hand, his other arm slung around Soren's shoulders. “You're quite a mess, you know that?” Eddie said fondly, playing with the spectacles.
Soren gaped, and the lines worrying into his face between his eyebrows only made him more handsome. “Your Highness...”
“Yes?” Eddie said eagerly, biting his lip and tilting his head in a way he knew was charming. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but he knew something had to be done about... Soren. The man's name was the only label he had for this strange conglomeration of emotion.
Soren seemed still very out of sorts, staring at him with bright wide eyes, his mouth perplexed and open. “I – Your Highness, my deepest apologies.” A wave of shame and humiliation overtook him and he turned his face away, despondent. “I've failed you, I've failed to uphold my duty, how could I become so enthralled with a game...”
Surprised, Eddie only laughed. “Oh, think nothing of it!” He assured, dropping the spectacles in his lap to grasp Soren's jaw in a daring gesture and bring their gazes together. “Heaven only knows how many times my actions have warranted an apology to you. But I must know what is so enthralling about this game to have captivated such a rigid man.”
“Your Highness, this is unconventional,” Soren huffed, already returning to said rigid state. “I must ask you to get up, please.” His gaze dropped away from Eddie's and his face pressed into his palm as though in a kindly unforceful attempt to break the Prince's hold.
“What happened to 'my deepest apologies'? If you've failed to uphold your duty, the least you can do is uphold me,” Eddie winked; he wasn't prepared to let this moment end just yet, and it was disheartening that Soren was denying him any banter.
“Get off.” Soren said, much in the way of an exasperated guardian. “Your Highness.”
Perhaps it was desperation, or provocation, or any of the number of judgment-clouding emotions, but Eddie's next action took him over the edge. He wound his fingers into the scruff of hair at the back of Soren's neck, and pulled himself forward until their mouths crashed together.
Eddie felt Soren's hands tremble against him but his mouth remained, and Eddie realized that this was what he had been yearning for in all of the instances he had found himself amused and impressed by Soren; and now that impenetrable man was coming apart for him.
He dragged his lips covetously over Soren's, the stubble of Soren's jaw scraping against his skin, held his head with the same desire he kissed him with.
And Soren kissed him back.
Eddie broke away and a giddy sigh fell from his weakened lips. When he looked up, Soren was staring at him – unreadable, as always.
Suddenly Soren made to stand and they became a flurry of confused limbs before Soren was walking out of the door and left Eddie half-falling off of the couch.
Of course, Soren was caught off guard, likely more confused than Eddie himself was... oh, right, Eddie really had no idea what he had just done.
Shrugging and pushing it all to the back of his mind, Eddie picked up the controller and tried to figure out how to get the high score. Soren wouldn't go too far, anyway.
Eddie didn't see Soren again until he found him sleeping in his bunk the next morning, and then he had no time to bother him or else risk being late to class and disappointing Paige.
He had some managing of affairs to do, but he had been between multiple admirers before.
–
That computer game must have compromised his sanity.
It was the only explanation for his conduct when the Prince had... when he had let the Prince...
Soren couldn't shake off the disbelief. Was he really entertaining a school-boy crush? On the Prince of Denmark? The man he had safeguarded since boyhood?
He could turn it all over in his mind over and over again, but it didn't matter what he understood of it – he was still under the employment of the Royal Family, still had a responsibility to servitude and protection.
And that made no difference to the heat coiling tight in his chest the moment Prince Edvard walked into the dormitory.
Soren had been preparing for his return all day, had pretended to be sleeping in the morning just so he could have more time to prepare, to decide on what he would say to the Prince. All of that preparation culminated to the ability to do nothing but stare at the Prince.
The Prince and his silly smile.
“Hey,” Edvard said, all charm, as though Soren was one of his pursuits.
“For God's sake, Your Highness, that's the way you choose to seduce me?” Soren said, unimpressed, biting back a more frustrated retort.
Sheepishly, Edvard bowed his head, and ran his fingers through his hair full-well knowing how becoming a gesture it was. “I didn't mean it like that. Come on.”
“I can't fault you for it, I suppose, I've seen every trick you have. Can't expect you to learn something new on my account.”
Edvard tilted his head, laughed, confused. “Are you upset, Soren?” He shrugged his bag to the ground and strode casually to the closet.
“Yes,” Soren said immediately, and then started to regret it as soon as Edvard turned molten, enticing eyes to him.
“Why?”
“Your Highness.” Soren wasn't going to play into the Prince's clueless game.
Edvard pulled away from the closet, spread his lips into a winning smile as he advanced on Soren. “Well, stop.”
Before he knew it, the Prince's hands were on his face again, and then his lips, and Soren had no chance for rebuttal.
And he kissed the Prince back, just as reckless as the young boy himself. It was something of a dream, to be kissed by Prince Edvard – entirely enigmatic, but as stupefying as every two-euro romance film professed to be. Was he as idiotic as Romeo, so taken by an idealized impression of love, as to be reduced to the same swooning as all the young girls and boys who had the misfortune of being in Prince Edvard's presence?
He felt Edvard's lips stretch into a smile and wondered if Edvard could read his thoughts. Edvard's mouth was as soft and careful as his hands were as they slid to Soren's neck, his thumbs pressing warmth over the edges of his jaw. The Prince's kisses, ginger though they were, became steadily invasive, flooding Soren's mouth with heat and the taste of passion. The Prince kissed like any hormonal youth, eager and smothering – Soren realized he could hardly breath past the Prince's tongue. He managed to make a few noises of protest, but it was difficult to send a clear message when his own hands were moving up the ridges of Edvard's sides. Edvard's arms were caressing him, strong, encouraging, surely attempting to coax Soren to relax or pry him open.
Was this what many years of relationship independence did to him? Made him fall in love with the person in whom's company he happened to spend the most time? Someone he was obligated to know intimately, a man who he had seen and who had seen him naked as a consequence of their vocational relationship?
Every time Edvard's lips closed over his, cushioned his tongue between them, grazed his chin, Soren sunk a little further, was convinced more and more just to give in. Then the backs of his legs were pressed against the couch and he was being pushed down under the weight of Edward's chest.
Soren breathed, “Good god,” cool air rushing against his lips as he managed to tear away just as he fell into the couch cushions. His chest was practically heaving as he stared into Edvard's gleaming eyes.
“Yeah,” Edvard agreed, their lips smacking in another kiss. “Soren, I -”
“No,” Soren said into Edvard's mouth, trapped underneath him as he was. The break in the relentless kissing seemed to have been enough for him to sober to rational thinking. “Don't say anything else, Your Highness, I – I'm sorry -”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” Edvard smiled, leaning his forehead against Soren's.
“This is wrong. This – This is fraternization. I am your paid help, not...” The situation was so irregular that Soren was finding it difficult to articulate, and to struggle against the inclination to let the Prince go on kissing him.
“But Soren,” Edvard toyed, crushing his body against Soren. “It's not like I'm going to let anyone punish you for this.”
Soren sighed in exasperation, muffled by another kiss. He groaned, pushed Edvard an inch away. “There is more than that at stake.”
Edvard rolled his eyes. “Yes, I'm no stranger to the press. But we can figure that out.”
“Figure that out?” Soren stared at Edvard incredulously, one hand at Edvard's shoulder to hold him away from suffocating him with kisses. “Don't tell me you've actually thought about a future.”
As Edvard's face twisted with hurt and disappointment, Soren realized he had . “Your Highness...” Soren said, staring at him in sympathy and disbelief. He sighed heavily, feeling like he was talking to a child. “I'm afraid I cannot let you do this.”
“Let me? Soren, don't you see?” Edvard leaned a sad little smile forward, brushing Soren's mouth. “I love you.”
Soren jerked back, squeezed his eyes shut. “No. No, you don't.”
“I do, Soren! I see that now... I love you, I've loved you for a long time, I just... never knew.” Edvard laid kisses over Soren's jaw, murmured into his skin, “I've loved you for so long.”
“Stop it, sir,” Soren pleaded, feeling his throat raise against Edvard's lips as he swallowed.
“What is love? A madness most discreet,” Edvard peppered the Shakespeare quote over Soren's neck.
Soren huffed, exasperated; “Fine. Fine, you love me.” He struggled to push Edvard off of him and pulled himself to sit up. “But I don't want to do this.”
“What?” Edvard hung over Soren's lap, frozen.
“I don't want to do this with you, Prince Edvard. That's it. I could have no attachment to you, I could not be your majordomo, I could not be in the employ of the Royal Family. And I would still not want to do this with you.”
Edvard tilted his head, searching for a punchline. “What do you mean? Why?”
“You may have convinced Miss Paige that you are not irresponsible in the manner you treat people, especially those of the female sex. She may not think you a misogynist or a narcissist at all. But I know better.”
“A misogynist?” Edvard laughed, then stilled as Soren stared at him, knowing there was nothing he could argue to justify the behavior of his entire young life.
Soren's heart was aching. He did care for Prince Edvard. But he could not love him, could not love a man like him.
He slid off of the couch and to his feet without protest from the Prince. “Sir, I will still be here if you require me,” He said quietly, looking away. “For your sake, I hope that Miss Paige sees who you truly are.”
As Soren left the room to give Edvard some time, he thought, perhaps, there might be a day in the future when Prince Edvard would change, and maybe then he would allow the Prince to tell him he loved him. However, he knew Edvard could act a chivalrous hero all he wanted, but until Soren was certain the Prince had changed through and through, he would be a faithful attendant and watch him, and do his utmost to protect people like Paige from his unfair treatment.