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It was Simon’s idea to go out that day.
He tried to convince Wille with several different reasons they definitely needed to get some fresh air.
“Det är måndag.” Today is Monday , like that’s supposed to be a reason. Well, when you think about it, it, it kind of was. Wille looked at Simon, fond exasperation clear on his face. Simon rolled his eyes at Wille and tried again.
With sarcasm dripping from his lips, “Du behöver friskluft.” You need some fresh air. True but there was no need to be rude. Wille was glaring now but Simon just smirked. He knew he was winning. Who were they kidding. Wille had already folded like a stack of cards in the wind and was now just messing with him.
Wille sighed. Simon smirked even wider, eyes playfully following Wille as he walked towards his closet. He was probably going to have to get out of his pajamas. Wille groaned at the thought. Real pants, and on Monday no less. Simon needed to know Wille loved him enough to put on real pants on a Monday.
While Wille was lamenting the pants situation, Simon slowly snuck up behind him. When Wille bent down to put on a pair of socks, Simon pounced.
“Simme!” Wille cried out in surprise, arms automatically coming up to support him. Wille’s hands slid under his thighs, as his arms wrapped around Wille’s neck. Simon peppered kisses along Wille’s face and neck, laughing.
Wille was grinning now, spinning them around the room, bare feet twirling them into the bed where they collapsed, breathlessly in love. “Älskling, vi måste göra oss redo!” We need to go! Simon finally let go and they laid there for a moment, reveling in each other’s company. Eventually they manage to get dressed and into a car. Both of them were bundled up in scarfs and beanies, Wille wearing his most understated pea-coat and Simon wearing his ever-present leather jacket. Wille things Simon isn’t nearly warm enough in it but he looks so good in it that Wille didn’t complain about it too much.
When they got to the restaurant is was already much later than they originally planned. Simon had promised Wille it wouldn’t be too busy since they were “getting there early”. It was now 18:30 and definitely not early. The place was packed. The waiter at the front definitely knows who they are, if his wide eyes are anything to go by. Simon cleared his throat, his eyes hard. The waiter swallowed, “den här vägen tack.” This way please .
He takes them to a table towards the back. It’s a little two-person seater next to another couple and they’re lucky to get in so quickly with how busy it is (it probably had something to do with Wille being the actual crown prince but they weren’t complaining right now). “Snälla säg inget?” Please don’t say anything? Simon’s quiet voice asked the waiter. The waiter nodded and slipped away.
Simon smiled across to Wille. Wille couldn’t help sighing, he still couldn’t believe this was his life. How did he get so lucky. Simon’s eyes were sparkling, his hands, cold as always, were tucked into Wille’s, and his feet were tangled into Wille’s legs, one foot slowly moving up and down.
Simon couldn’t get over the fact that Wille was here with him, out in public and comfortable enough to make heart eyes at his face and think of nothing else. He couldn’t have imagined this a year ago. It felt good to be able to do this with Wille, watching him be so carefree with his affection made Simon’s already gooey heart melt into a puddle on the floor, cold weather be damned.
Wille waited until Simon took a sip of water, "In all the world, you’re the only pasta-bility for me." Simon snorted, hands coming up to stop the water from snorting through his nose. He threw back his head as his laugh came out, pure and clear. Wille’s eyes were shining, clearly proud of his play on words.
“Den var så dålig!” That was terrible! Simon choked out, still struggling to keep water in his mouth. They grinned at each other. Their hands came back together, even more connected than before, not an atom’s space between them.
“Jag älskar dig, älskling,” Wille whispered, his thumbs never stopping their travel along the back of Simon’s hands.
Simon let out a soft breath, his shoulders softening, “Jag älskar dig, mi amor.”
After dinner, they make their way back to the car, arm-in-arm, drunk on love. Wille looks over at Simon and they share a smile.
“Var det värt att du satte på dig riktiga byxor” Simon asks softly, eyes shimmering with humor, a smirk on his face. Was it worth putting pants on for?
“Helt klart värt det. Jag älskar dig.” Worth it. I love you.
Simon blushed. He tilted his head up to press a kiss to Wille’s cheek, “Jag älskar dig också.”