Like Because, Love Despite, Chapter 9. PG-13, Set It Up AU, Wille/Simon, romance/fluff/slight drama.
Wilhelm and Simon are a pair of overworked, underpaid assistants who team up to gain their supervisors' favor by bringing them together for a joint venture. It might be the best worst idea they've ever had.

Note: This chapter (a) is a good 1.5K words shorter than my previous average, and (b) overuses italics for emphasis even more than my usual. I hope as you read you'll come to see why both (a) and (b) were necessary. Next chapter should hopefully be back to average length.

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When Wille made it to work on Monday morning, carton cup holder with a spectacularly green superfood smoothie in hand for his health-obsessed supervisor, he found a yellow sticky note stuck to his VoIP phone. Meet me on the 10th floor. -A, it read. A bit confused, he put the smoothie in August's mini fridge and headed downstairs.

As he walked into the HSF office, he felt butterflies start to flutter in his stomach as he recalled what happened at his apartment with Simon on Saturday. Well, "he recalled"— as if he'd been able to think of anything else since. He'd gone to bed on Saturday just praying that he wouldn't forget everything that had happened between them since he'd been pretty sloshed at the time. But when he woke up on Sunday, not too hungover thanks to Simon's reminder to drink a lot of water, he could remember every detail, down to the electric feeling that ran under every inch of his skin as his lips pressed against Simon's.

Perhaps especially that.

And now he was going to see Simon for the first time since that night, and his entire body was thrumming with anticipation. Excited for them to start on the next step of their relationship, whatever that might entail.

He caught a glimpse of Simon in his cubicle before Simon saw him. He was focused on his computer, and... oh, he was wearing glasses. Wille had never seen him wearing glasses. It was such a cute look on him. "Hey," he said with a shy smile as he walked up to Simon's station.

Simon started at the greeting, clearly not expecting anyone, but when he saw it was Wille who spoke, he beamed. "Hey!" he said. He took his glasses off— Wille nearly whined— and glanced curiously at him. "Um, are you here to...?"

Wille was pretty sure the tail end of that question was going to be "...to tell me you still want what we started on Saturday?" which, yes, Wille did very very much want that, but before he had a chance to say something, Englund poked his head out of his office glass door.

"You two, in here," he ordered, and Wille somehow felt the immediate urge to comply even though Englund wasn't his boss... nor even worked in the same organization as him.

They hurried into Englund's office to find August, hands in his pockets, standing in front of the desk. "Your assistant, my assistant," Englund said, gesturing to each of them in turn without even bothering to mention either of their names. "There. We're all acquainted now."

"Yeah," August said, his gaze fixed on Simon. Wille wasn't sure he liked the way his eyes were narrowed, suspicious. "We've met, I believe. Silas, is it?"

"Simon," Wille chimed in before Simon himself could do so.

"We met at your birthday party," Simon reminded him instead. "Wille invited me."

"Right," August said very slowly. Wille didn't think August could suss out their entire scheme just from knowing that Simon worked for Englund, but he still felt dread fill him, regardless. That look on his cousin's face was never a good omen.

"Are we done with the frivolities now?" Englund intervened (rudely, in Wille's opinion). He picked a folder up from his desk and handed it to Simon. "Krona Ventures is going to fund construction on the Sandhamnsgatan lot."

Simon's eyes widened in surprise. "For the shelter?" he asked, excitement coloring the words. Wille had heard Simon talk about this planned shelter project and knew how animated he got about it, how hopeful he was that it would come to fruition someday and help so many LGBTQIA+ people, especially at-risk youth, get out of dangerous home situations. It was just going to take a while until HSF raised enough money for it. August— and Krona— had just solved that problem.

Simon opened the folder and showed the blueprints to Wille. Now it was his turn to be surprised. That was a whole-ass building! Krona usually seeded tech startups— for equity. They didn't delve into real estate, especially not non-profit real estate. Was the good publicity they might get from this really enough to make this huge investment worth it for the firm? He glanced at August, searching his face for some explanation, but his cousin remained inscrutable under his near-permanent arrogant smirk.

"HSF will be a full partner," Englund continued. "I will manage the project. Mr. Horn will take point on Krona's side. The contract went out to both boards on Saturday; it's with our legal team now, and I expect it will be signed by the end of the workday."

That caught both him and Simon off-guard. "That's... really fast," Simon said, sounding a little disturbed. Wille couldn't blame him. They were away from the office for a weekend, and their bosses went rogue? They'd seen August, for fuck's sake, getting plastered poolside. When did he have the time to work on a contract this size— or to work at all? It certainly wasn't something he did on any available weekday. "Are you sure you didn't need my help for any—"

"This project has been ready to go for a while," Englund interrupted again. "We just needed the funding. Now we have it. What's the point in waiting?" Well, when he put it that way, it kind of made sense. Plus, Krona was absolutely desperate for any good publicity, to be fair. And speaking of publicity...

"Englund will come with us to the conference in Amsterdam next week," August chimed in, and by "us," he meant himself and Wille's mother. Because of course Wille was not invited to the biggest finance and VC conference of the year. He'd just be an embarrassment. "We can start floating the project out to people"— Banks. He meant banks— "and put a face to it. Makes it more concrete."

He pinned both of them with a glare. "You two, take care of all the details. If anyone tells you it's too late to get him in, tell them to take it up with Aunt Kristina." The two of them nodded.

Englund spoke up next. "Since I'm going to be out for nearly a full week, all other active projects are going to have to be put on hold until I get back." Simon acknowledged that with a hum, pulling out his phone to add it to the office calendar. "Tell the team that they should still work on whatever tasks they have pending, but nothing gets pitched until I approve it." Simon nodded again. "And you should take that time to prepare that idea of yours."

Simon's thumbs stopped typing on his screen abruptly. "I'm sorry, what?"

Englund just stared back at him, impassive. "The idea you pitched a while ago. Some concert? I want to see a proposal on my desk when I get back."

Simon looked like he'd just been told Christmas would be held in July this year. "Oh! Um. Yeah! Yes. I can do that. I can absolutely—"

"Why did you stop typing," Englund interrupted once more.

"Sorry," Simon muttered and went back to typing on his phone. He was smiling as he did so, though. Wille couldn't help but smile as well. He was happy all the effort Simon put into his job was finally being acknowledged.

"And cousin..." Wille turned away from Simon to look at August as he spoke. He gave Wille that smug smile he detested. "When we get back to Stockholm, I'm recommending you for a promotion."

Wille froze in complete shock. Of everything August could've said just now, from "You're fired" to "I'm a little teapot," that was probably the one thing Wille least expected to hear. "Wait, really?" he asked, the disbelief clear in his voice.

"Yes, really," August confirmed. "You're going to have to choose and train a replacement, but as soon as that's done, you should be able to start as an analyst." Wille nodded so emphatically that his neck cracked. "Be sure to hook up with Nils and Vincent. They'll show you the ropes."

"I will," Wille replied, still nodding. He couldn't stop nodding.

"Right." August turned to Englund. "It's probably a good idea to schedule a meeting with Kristina sometime this week..."

Wille and Simon just stood there, shellshocked, as the other two men conferred with each other in low tones. It wasn't until Englund snapped "You're still here?" at them that they hurried out the door, fearful that one wrong move might undo the miracle they had just witnessed.

When they got to Simon's cubicle, though, they couldn't hold back anymore. Ecstatic, they threw their arms around each other, so tight that Wille actually lifted Simon and spun him in a circle, both of them laughing exuberantly.

He put Simon down and they pulled back— not fully, but just a little, just enough that they could look at each other. Simon was grinning so brightly, it was like staring at the sun. Like he was glowing with happiness.

I want to kiss him again, the thought came unbidden, sobering. And he thought Simon might be thinking the same because he saw his eyes trail down to his lips, then back up to meet Wille's gaze. And Wille might've done it— just leaned down and kissed him, right there in the middle of the office where everyone could see them, and it would've been so good and so electrifying and the perfect cap to what was shaping up to be the culmination of everything they'd been working towards for weeks.

He might've done it, had August not walked out of Englund's office at that exact moment. He only paused long enough to glance at them, befuddled. "Seriously?" he asked.

Wille and Simon pulled back hastily, but August didn't stick around to get an answer. He was already a few strides down the hallway when he called out, "Don't just stand there, Wilhelm! We're working from Sällskapet today."

Wille had no choice but to hustle after him, only managing to mouth "Talk later" to Simon, who acknowledged the message with a nod. There was still a lot for them to talk about, after all.

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Simon went to get his planner from his cubicle. Writing everything down on his phone was just not very efficient.

"...And I'm going to need an entirely new wardrobe after all," Englund declared as Simon hurried to write down everything he was saying. "Take care of that through the week."

"Should I put it on the corporate card?" Simon asked. Since this was a joint project and Englund would technically be representing HSF at this conference, he figured it kinda sorta counted as a work expense— but then again, the foundation did not have the budget to replace every single piece of clothing in his closet. Nor should they, really.

"No, put it on my personal card," Englund said. "We'll consider it an investment in me."

"Treat yourself," Simon sing-songed under his breath. It was something they often said to each other when he was hanging out with Ayub and Rosh, so it just came out of his mouth automatically.

"What?" Englund asked.

"What?" Simon asked back.

For a beat, they just stared at each other awkwardly. Then Englund shook his head. "Anyway, I'm also going to need you to get me my blue three-piece suit back."

"You mean the— the three-piece suit you had me return like... weeks ago?" Simon only barely held back a frustrated groan. He did not need another round of harassing poor retail employees who weren't at fault for his boss's whims.

"Yes, that three-piece suit. Why do you always ask exactly what I just said?" He shook his head. "Eriksson, sit." He signaled to the empty armchair on the opposite side of his desk.

Simon sat down gingerly. Had he asked one dumb question too many? Was Englund going to fire him just minutes after he requested his proposal for the charity concert? That would be just Simon's luck. At least he'd have more time to help Sara with the wedding preparations. And perhaps to go out every once in a while with a certain someone...

Englund stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "Eriksson, I know you feel I'm too hard on you. That I'm too strict with the team. And indeed I am"— He lifted a hand to stop Simon when he tried to interject— "But what you need to understand is that I'm not here to coddle any of you. I'm here to raise money for HSF but I'm also responsible for teaching you everything you need to know to do the same when I'm gone."

He crossed his arms and gave Simon a pointed stare. "If I'm the worst you have to deal with by the time you're a team leader, I know you'll be able to weather anything people throw at you. Because that's what you want, right? You want to be part of a team?"

Simon nodded, oddly hopeful that maybe his boss did really care. "I want to help people," he said, determination coloring his words. "You think I can be a team member?"

"I don't know. Can you?" Englund shot back. Simon took that to mean that it was up to him to do what was necessary to get there. "Regardless, for now, you can start by getting me my damn blue suit."

He turned to his computer, and Simon understood he was dismissed. He sighed. "Yes, Mr. Englund." He went back to his cubicle, making sure to write down "GET BLUE SUIT" on his planner in all caps, the words bolded, underlined, and circled so there was no chance he'd forget.

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Wilhelm followed behind August in the buffet line at one of the various dining halls at Sällskapet— not because he was getting his own food, but more because August needed extra hands to carry all the plates he needed for his several different courses.

"And be sure to put Englund in the same hotel we're staying at," August said as he loaded up one more plate with lobster Thermidor. "I don't care if they say they're sold out. You know Aunt Kristina doesn't appreciate waiting for a member of the group to get there when we could've all arrived together."

Wilhelm nodded, focused mostly on not dropping any of the food that was piled on the two plates he was holding. For someone as health-obsessed as his cousin, he sure ate a lot— as long as the food was expensive, that is. He'd burn it all off at the gym soon enough.

"Oh, and I also want you to get Englund a luxury watch," August kept prattling on. "It doesn't have to be super expensive; mid-range is fine. Put it on the corporate card, too— it's a business expense. We can't introduce Englund as the future manager of the hotel while he's wearing a cheap Casio."

Wilhelm tried to process all of that quickly so he wouldn't forget even though he couldn't write it down, but his train of thought hit a snag near the end. "Um, I'm sorry," he interjected. "Did you say hotel? I take it you meant shelter."

"Nope," August said, now heaping a serving of salad on his lobster plate. "We're building a hotel. It's gotta pay for itself somehow."

Wilhelm stopped dead in his tracks, momentarily forgetting that there was a line of hungry and probably very impatient people waiting behind him. Time is money and all of that. "But... you can't do that. We're building a shelter in exchange for good publicity from HSF." He stared at August in disbelief. "Like... there's a contract."

August shrugged like such binding legal documents were merely a small inconvenience. "There are always loopholes," he said, unconcerned. He looked at Wilhelm and smirked. "We can afford better lawyers than them."

Wilhelm just stared at him as he continued down the buffet line without a care in the world. How could he do such a thing? Wilhelm knew August was an irritating jerk and that he was cutthroat when it came to the job, but he'd never thought he'd go this far. How could he just steal from a business partner like that? Because that's what it was: stealing. Not just from HSF, but from all the queer people in need who would benefit from the shelter.

But what could he do? He had to tell his mother. Or Englund. He hadn't read the contract, but there may still be time for HSF to pull out. But if the deal fell through, because Kristina killed it or HSF did, the failure would be on August. And then August would fire him. Promotion, schmomotion— he'd be out of a job, regardless of the fact that he was a Berwald. And still there would be no shelter.

Was that worth it? Maybe there was something he could do behind the scenes to stop August from hijacking the project. Let the structure be built, but sabotage the hotel contractors or file the wrong permits or something. He was probably going to be the one handling all of the paperwork, anyway— they wouldn't leave that to a newbie— so he'd have the means and opportunity. He'd figure out the details later. It was just going to be a long "later."

And he would have to pull this off alone. He couldn't tell Simon. He would die of embarrassment if he had to explain to Simon how his own cousin was trying to con Simon's boss and the organization he loved so much. Christ, August was trying to steal from a charity. What did that say about Wilhelm, about his family, about the work environment they fostered? Wilhelm couldn't face Simon and have those words come out of his mouth. Not idealistic, steadfast Simon who wanted to help people and bristled at injustice, no matter which shape it took.

He was on his own.

"Hey, man, are you going to keep moving, or what?"

Wilhelm snapped out of his spiral of despair to look at the man behind him who had spoken. "Sorry," he mumbled and stepped away from the buffet altogether. August was already at a table, savoring the seafood with gusto.

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Because he and August worked from the club on Monday, Wille didn't get a chance to talk to Simon anymore that day except for a "Hey. Goodnight. See you tomorrow" text that Simon replied to with "Sweet dreams" and a purple heart emoji.

He didn't hear from Simon all morning on Tuesday, but then after lunch, he texted to ask if he wanted to go over flights and accommodation for Englund together. He said he'd come upstairs in a few minutes, but it took a bit longer than that, and by the time he showed up at Wille's desk, Wille was knee-deep in price comparisons.

"Hey," Simon said as he moved to grab a wheeled desk chair from beside Wille's magical Willy Wonka cabinet.

"Oh! Hi." Wille was startled out of his trance when Simon moved the chair directly beside his. Then he propped his elbows on Wille's desk, his face cradled in his hands, and just stared. Smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

Wille waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "...What?" he asked with a chuckle, amused at how silly Simon was being.

Simon leaned in, whispering as if sharing a secret with him. "...I really want to kiss you right now." He pulled back, flashing that devilish smile at Wille once again.

Wille hadn't known one could physically feel the blood flooding to one's cheeks (among other places) before, but he was sure he looked like a stoplight at the moment. His lips started drawing up at the corners. "Yeah?" he asked, matching his tone.

Simon nodded, still grinning at him. "Mm-hmm." Then he pulled back, however, putting a little bit of distance between them. "Not at work, though."

"Right," Wille agreed with a chuckle, though he'd be lying if he didn't feel a tinge of disappointment that that was the case. The twinkle in Simon's eyes made him think he knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Anyway," Simon said in a regular volume, "I was just thinking earlier today, isn't it so crazy what's happening?"

All of a sudden, alarms started ringing in Wille's head. "What's— What? What's happening?" he spluttered. Simon couldn't have somehow figured out what August was doing, could he? Wille hoped to high heaven that Simon couldn't actually read his thoughts.

If he could, he clearly wasn't very good at it, if the look he gave him was any indication— like he thought that Wille was being a total weirdo. Which he was. "The partnership between Krona and HSF actually taking off, obviously."

"Oh. Of course." Wille tried to shake off the paranoia. He needed to chill, or he was going to give himself away. "Uh, what about it?"

Simon remained suspicious for maybe a second longer before apparently deciding there was no point in pushing because Wille was a weirdo every other day of his life, anyway. Which, fair. "Nothing, really... I was just thinking that this whole thing started off kind of selfishly for us, didn't it? Just trying to get more time off work. But when you think about it, we made two awful people who don't love anyone but themselves come together to build something good for, like... humanity. This is going to save people's lives."

He sounded so full of wonder as he said that. He beamed. "That's incredible!" he added. "And I'm proud of us. I think we did an amazing thing."

"Yeah. Me too." Wille had to smile at how happy this made Simon. But at the same time, something inside him shriveled when he recalled how easily that joy could be extinguished if he couldn't stop August from ruining everything.

Well, then. No pressure.

"Okay"— he turned toward his computer— "so I was looking at business class availability for Monday flights out to Schiphol..." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Simon nod as he immediately went into work mode.

Wille tried to do so as well, though the press of Simon's arm at his side made him hope they could revisit the kissing issue after office hours.

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Simon was up to his eyeballs in shopping bags— literally— when his phone rang. He had to do a kind of circus balancing act to be able to pull his phone out of his pocket, unlock it, and lift it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Wille's voice came through the speaker, which meant a smile immediately took over Simon's face. "So, August asked me to buy a fancy watch for Englund to take on their trip. And I'm here at the shop, but also, I know absolutely nothing about shopping for watches— literally, the one I wear is a hand-me-down from Erik he left me when he moved to London— so I'm totally over my head here. Any chance you could come help me with this?"

Simon scoffed. "What makes you think I know anything about shopping for fancy watches?"

"You might at least be able to tell me if I'm overpaying for it?" Wille suggested pleadingly.

That drew a laugh out of Simon. "I don't even need to be there to tell you that you're definitely overpaying for it." Wille didn't reply, but Simon could almost hear his pout over the radio waves. "Anyway, I can't. I gotta go back to the office so I can drop off all these bags."

"Oh, come on!" Wille all but whined. "Please? I can wait for you. I just really need your help— you're the one who knows what Englund likes." There was a murmur of someone speaking on the other end of the line and then Wille asking the person to give him a second. Probably a salesperson, Simon figured.

"Sorry about that," Wille said when he came back to the call. "Anyway, you're sure you can't make even a little bit of time? Just as a soundboard— you're so much better than I am at this style stuff."

That one brought about a snort. "You've told me I dress like a 12-year-old. Those are actual words that have come out of your mouth," he pointed out resolutely.

"And yet, it... totally works for you!" Wille retorted, clearly just the first attempt that popped into his head— pure BS, really; Simon knew he wasn't exactly a fashionista and his own best friends often teased him about revoking his gay card. But Wille was too desperate not to go all in, so he doubled down on it. "I mean, have you looked at you? You're gorgeous no matter what you wear, you're super charming, you're so smart, and have I mentioned how gorgeous you are?"

Simon let out a loud bark of laughter, which garnered him a few curious looks as he walked down a crowded city sidewalk. "Okay, okay. You don't have to lay it on so thick." He sighed, fake resigned. "Fine, I'll help you. But I really do have to stop by the office first."

"That's fine!" Wille reiterated. "Actually, that works great for me as well. I forgot August's corporate card on my top desk drawer when I left earlier. Any chance you could swing by my spot and grab it for me?"

Simon shook his head. "You know I'm gonna have to start charging for all these favors, right?"

"Seems fair," Wille acquiesced. His voice lowered very deliberately. "And I look forward to hearing what kind of payment currency you come up with."

"Wow!" Simon said, stretching out the syllable with a guffaw. "Who are you and what have you done with m— the awkward Wille I got to know this summer?" He'd almost called him "my Wille" but caught himself just in time; that might've been a bit too forward, even for him, given that they'd only kissed once.

"Hey, I've got game!" Wille protested in return.

"You absolutely don't," Simon threw back. "But don't worry: it's endearing. I gotta go, though. Ping me your location. I'll see you in a bit."

"I'll be waiting," Wille said, and Simon ended the call. He walked into their office building with a bright smile on his face.

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After dropping off all the bags in Englund's office and locking it safely, Simon headed upstairs to the Krona offices and made his way to Wille's desk. He had to tread carefully because August's door was open— he was speaking loudly on the phone— and Simon didn't want August to catch him there and accuse him of stealing. It seemed like something he would do.

He opened the top drawer on Wille's desk and sure enough, there was the gold card, resting facedown on top of a stack of manila folders. Simon quickly grabbed it and put it in his pocket.

"Yeah, just wait until we build the hotel in Gärdet. We will be swimming in money."

Simon didn't mean to eavesdrop, really. August was just so loud.

"What do you mean it's all residential? That just means we'll have no competition. Plus, you know that's where tourists go when they want to explore 'the real Stockholm' but without all the touristy shit."

Simon didn't know what it was about August's words. Sure, he only knew of one construction project Krona was involved with in Gärdet, but maybe the board had truly decided to go all in on real estate? A true rebranding, since their reputation in VC was sullied? And Wille, of course, would not know about this because most of the time he wasn't allowed in board meetings.

Because surely August couldn't be referring to the shelter, right? Right?

"And Sandhamnsgatan is very centrally located in that area, as I'm sure you know."

The trepidation creeping up on Simon turned into a five-alarm fire at that. He hurried over to the computer at Wille's desk. Wille had given him his password— Fr09Pr!nc3-04— a couple of weeks ago when he had an issue where he couldn't confirm a planning session. He'd jokingly commented that it was probably bad form to not change his password right away after sharing it with someone, but all his passwords were the same, so he wasn't going to do that. And he trusted Simon so it wasn't necessary anyway.

Those words now reverberated inside Simon's head as he typed the thirteen characters into the password field on the computer's lock screen. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he would deal with that later. Right now, he had to make sure he was just misinterpreting August's words.

He opened the Explorer and went to the search bar. He typed "Sandhamnsgatan," pressed Return, and waited. Only one document popped up: the exact same one with the blueprints Englund had shown them on Monday. There were no other documents containing the word as far as he could see. Same for "Gärdet" or "Ladugårdsgärdet," or even "hotel."

"Mm-hmm. Yes. And since our PR issues are going to be solved thanks to this partnership, we can probably bring in sympathy money if we ride on those sweet, sweet 'allyship' coattails. Hmm. Yeah, they make it too easy."

At this point, Simon was seeing red. He locked the computer and turned off the monitor, stomping off toward the elevators at such a high clip that he almost slipped on Krona's stupid polished floors. He hoped to God that Wille had a good explanation for this, because if it was what Simon thought it was, then it was all kinds of messed up.

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At the luxury watches boutique— which Wille hadn't even known was a type of shop that existed— he carefully examined the Cartier watch the shop assistant had suggested when he explained what he was looking for. "I don't know. I like the blue, but does it have to be alligator skin? I'm not sure how I feel about that. You wouldn't happen to have a version with faux leather, maybe?"

The sales assistant was about to talk (probably to tell him off for being clueless) when the door to the shop opened and Simon walked in. "Hey!" Wille greeted him with a bright smile. "Question: what are Englund's feelings on murdering animals for fashion?"

Simon made his way to where Wille stood in front of the display case. He seemed... jittery. Which was not an adjective Wille would usually associate with him. Something was wrong. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm." Simon nodded. "Uh, here," he said, handing Wille the corporate card he'd picked up from the Krona offices. "Hey, um, something weird happened when I was getting the card. August was talking to someone on the phone, and he mentioned something about building a hotel in Gärdet. In Sandhamnsgatan?"

Fuck. Couldn't August just keep his big fat mouth shut at least once? Literally? He channeled all his energy into schooling his expression into a nonchalant one, so much that it felt like every muscle in his face was straining. "Oh, erm, yeah. We've been working on it for a while. It's a very up-and-coming area, you know," he lied— badly— out of his ass. He couldn't even meet Simon's gaze as he said that.

He took his chance to steer the conversation toward safer waters by moving to fasten the watch to Simon's wrist. "Let's try this on you; you'll probably wear it a thousand times better than I would."

"Yeah, uh-huh," Simon agreed. "But wait, hadn't you told me that the shelter would be the first time Krona would be delving into real estate? I thought that's what you'd said before."

"Hmm?" Wille pretended to be focusing hard on fitting the luxury wristwatch properly just to stall for time. "Uh, no, you must've heard that wrong..." He tried not to cringe. His voice was at least an octave higher than normal and that was because he knew he'd told Simon exactly that via text just the day before.

"Ah, that's funny," Simon said in a way that made it seem not at all funny, "'cause you don't seem to have any files about this other project on your server."

Wille's hand stilled on the leather strap. He slowly lifted his gaze to Simon, who was glaring at him. "You broke into my computer?"

"You didn't change your password!" Simon shot back, incensed. "And don't even try to turn this on me when you just lied straight to my face!" He stepped back and away from Wille with a huff of frustration. "You knew August wants to appropriate our shelter for a hotel. You fucking knew!"

"Yes, but it's not— I just found out on Monday and it's not— it's not like that," Wille stumbled over his own words in an attempt to explain.

"Oh yeah?" Simon retorted. "So August isn't trying to steal from HSF, then?"

Wille could feel the elevated blood pressure inside his veins by this point. "No, that's— he is, but I'm going to take care of it, okay? I have a plan."

"Ah. Cool. So what's the plan, then?" Simon asked in a way that made him seem not at all interested in Wille's plan. "Are you going to confront him about it? Reveal his corruption in front of the rest of the firm? Are you going to tell your mother so she can deal with him? At what point is HSF looped into this plan of yours?"

Wille groaned. "Simon, that wouldn't help anyone. All it would do would be to completely void the contract—"

"Yeah, exactly!" Simon retorted, exasperated and gesturing harshly with his hands. "This contract can't go on, Wille! It's—"

That was, unfortunately, when the shop assistant, who'd been watching the argument unfold this entire time with the same expression one would expect from a horror movie audience, decided to interject. "Uh, I don't mean to bother you, but would it be okay if I took back the—"

"Just give us a second," Wille blurted out automatically just as Simon pretty much barked "Please don't interrupt" at him. The poor shop assistant had no choice but to back up immediately, very likely fearing for his life.

Wille turned back to the matter at hand. "Simon, just... listen to me, okay? We can fix this. Now that you know, we can sabotage this right under August's hands, together, and then HSF doesn't have to lose the shelter. They don't even have to know! We just have to stay a step ahead of everything, but we can do that, right?"

He wound himself up, believing if he was just able to explain everything properly, Simon would be on board. "We handle all their paperwork, we read all their emails, we take all their calls. You said it yourself: we're like the Wizard of Oz."

Simon looked at him like he was completely stunned to hear those words come out of his mouth right now. Which he was. "You want me to help you hide this from HSF?" He seemed... so disappointed.

Wille thought he might as well have punched a hole in him, the way his chest hurt like it was collapsing on itself. And as someone who'd dealt with severe panic attacks for the better part of his life, he could feel, as an almost out-of-body experience, how his fight-or-flight response was taking over. This time decidedly in the direction of "fight."

"Really?" he threw back, channeling his fear into anger because the only other option was crumbling under the weight of shame. "We maneuvered this entire thing into existence. In fact, it was your idea, to begin with! And now we're hit with one setback and suddenly it's a crime to work behind the scenes?"

Simon just looked at him with that same crushed expression and shook his head. "No... you were right. It was manipulative," he said, and he sounded exhausted as he spoke. He pressed his lips tightly before continuing. "And it was always wrong."

He squared his shoulders. "But now you're okay... with your cousin stealing a freaking shelter from a charity for queer people," he all but spat. "Queer people like you."

"What do you mean, I'm okay with it?" Wille threw back, now actually offended. Had Simon not heard anything he'd been saying? How could he think he'd ever be okay with something so low? "I'm trying to stop it!"

"Sabotage him. Yeah, you said," Simon retorted dismissively. "But how hard are you trying? Because as far as I understand your plan"— the sarcasm in his tone was thick here— "August just gets to keep going like nothing even happened. Don't you understand that it would be dangerous for HSF to keep a business relationship with someone who already tried to steal from them? They have the right to make an informed decision on whether they want to stay locked in this contract."

Simon shook his head again. "And even if you manage to stop him from turning the shelter into a hotel like the fucking Monopoly Man, what happens when he screws someone else over? Because you know he will." His glare was like ice. Wille's body kept trying to flinch away, and he had to consciously make an effort to stop that reflex. "Wille, why hasn't August already been fired?"

Wille threw his head back with a grunt of complaint. What Simon was saying did make sense, but what else could they do? He was trying to find the least-bad option here. "Simon, you don't..." He sighed heavily in frustration. "You don't understand that if... if my mother finds out about this, August will deny it. The board would back him. They'd cover their own asses. And HSF doesn't have the money to sue."

"But we can raise a stink," Simon countered. "Krona already has a history of discriminating against the LGBTQ+ community."

Wille shook his head emphatically. "Krona won't allow another hit on their reputation," he pointed out. "And they can afford the best lawyers in Sweden. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"Against you," Simon asserted, steel in his spine, and for a moment Wille blanked on what he could possibly mean with those words.

"What?"

"You are Krona," Simon insisted.

Wille shook his head, everything in him automatically rejecting that idea. He worked at Krona, yes, but he wasn't like everybody else in the firm. "Simon, I'm not like them—"

"You're exactly like them!" Simon threw back venomously. "You say you're different but you do exactly the same thing they do. Keeping a bunch of secrets and pretending that you're protecting us, but in the end, it's really all about protecting yourself!" He glared at him darkly and if he had a hole in his being before, now someone was twisting a knife in it. "You and your stupid promotion."

Wille, thrown aback, swallowed on a dry throat. "That's not—" For a moment he faltered, but found his footing again, jaw clenched with tension. "Well, what do you want me to do, then? I can just make my family's entire legacy implode in one fell swoop like that!"

"Wow." Simon chuckled, but there was no mirth in the gesture, only derision. "You know, this kind of bullshit is almost expected from August. He's a selfish, dishonest, elitist asshole, but he can't help it."

He sighed, his shoulders falling with the movement. "You could be better than that. I thought you were better than that. I thought you wanted to honor your brother's courage, but you want to be an asshole. You want so badly to be where August is, you're choosing to be a piece of shit."

That rankled at Wille. A lot. "Oh, you love making yourself out to be the morally superior person, don't you?" he said, stretching out the o sound in "love" mockingly. "You judge me for going for my goals, but the truth is, you're scared of yours. You're afraid not to be an assistant anymore."

Simon scoffed. "That's not true."

It was Wille's turn to put that pronouncement in doubt. "Yeah? Tell me, then: what have you done with all this free time we've had lately? Anything? You say you want to help people, but then how come you hadn't even started on your project proposal, huh? The concert you've been thinking of for ages?" He shrugged like the answer was easy. "I think you'd rather run around fetching Englund's dry cleaning than sit down, put your vision down on paper, and have it confirmed you're not good enough."

His words reverberated in the silence like a boulder falling down a near-empty well. Even the shop assistant, as hard as he'd been trying to pretend he wasn't listening, winced at that.

The second Wille said it, he knew it was wrong, and if words were material, he'd be flailing around, trying to corral them in and swallow them back down. He wasn't this vicious person; he really wasn't, but he'd felt cornered, reacted defensively, and spoke without thinking. But that wouldn't be enough of an excuse, he knew. The hurt in Simon's expression, the red ring around his eyes, the sheen of unshed tears around his iris, made that very clear.

Wille tried to say something. Anything. It just seemed like all sense had left him along with that vitriol. "I..."

Simon shook his head sadly— a barely there movement that would've gone unnoticed had Wille not been staring pleadingly at him, trying to say with his eyes what he couldn't say with his voice.

"I'm telling Englund," Simon said very quietly. Almost a whisper, so much so that Wille wondered if anybody else had heard it. "The whole truth. All of it."

With one last disillusioned glare, he turned to leave. That was when Wille's dread turned into panic. "Simon. Simon, please, can we..." But Simon ignored him. "Please, can we just talk? Where— Where the hell— Where are you going?" No acknowledgment. Simon moved to pull the door open.

The moment the glass door unlatched, a loud alarm went off. "Jesus! What the f—" Simon jumped back a meter in fright. The security guard just looked at him, mildly amused.

The shop assistant hurried to calm him down. "It's okay, it's fine. It's just— you forgot to take off the Cartier watch. No harm done; I just need it back." He turned to Wille. "This happens all the time," he explained as if Wille had asked.

Still breathing hard from the scare, Simon started unfastening the watch from his wrist. "Right. Sorry." As he was about to hand the wristwatch over to the shop assistant, however, it seemed like something in the timepiece caught his eye.

"Wait." He pulled the watch back and silently read something off the case back. His brows jumped nearly all the way up to his hairline in shock. He looked up, first at Wille, then at the shop assistant, and back and forth again. "This little watch seriously costs eighty-four thousand kronor?!"

Wille winced. The shop assistant, oblivious, nodded. Simon, mouth still half-open in disbelief, handed the watch back to the shop assistant and made for the door.

Just as he was walking out, however, he turned back to them once more. He moved his hand in a circle, gesturing to the two of them as well as the entirety of the boutique. "You people are going to hell," he declared. Then he left, this time for good.

The shop assistant gasped, indignant. "Well!" he said and turned to Wille. "Your boyfriend really is the holier-than-thou type, isn't he?" He shook his head, then paused as if something had just occurred to him. "Though I guess it would be ex-boyfriend now, huh..." Wille glared at him. He at least had the decency to grimace. "Sorry. Too soon?"

Wille sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tugging in frustration. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

.


.

Author's notes!—

I like this chapter. =) No, I'm not a sadist, I swear— I obviously don't like them being on the outs, but I think argument scenes are so intense and they can be some of the best scenes to picture cinematically in your head (as evidenced by the show), and it was fun to be able to mix up lines from the movie and episode 2x05 to create this one. I hope you liked them as well, even though you're probably sending death hexes my way through the wifi right now, haha.

Gärdet (short for Ladugårdsgärdet) is a district in Stockholm, east-northeast of Östermalm. It's a largely residential district with less than a handful of hotels, although there are quite a few museums there. Sandhamnsgatan is a street that runs north to south in Gärdet. The conference they're going to attend is Money20/20 Europe which takes place every summer. I don't know that it's the biggest finance/VC conference of the year, but then again, i also know nothing about VC and I'm writing a whole-ass chaptered fic about it, so... Sure. Whatever. The conference is, indeed, taking place in Amsterdam this year... literally tomorrow, actually. I totally did not plan that. xD

Lobster Thermidor is lobster meat cooked in wine sauce, stuffed back into the lobster shell, and browned with a Gruyère cheese sauce. Casio is a Japanese electronics corporation that also makes analog and digital (and even luxury!) watches. Schiphol Airport is the main international airport of the Netherlands. Cartier is a French luxury goods corporation that also makes luxury watches. The Cartier watch at the center of the last scene is a model that both Edvin and Omar have worn in separate occasions because they share a closet. Also, ignore the price on that webpage; that's the discount price (I can't believe I actually typed those words about a $6K wristwatch); the full price is around 7250 euros, which is more or less 80K Swedish kronor.

Next up: There's still two chapters to go, so I can't tell you everything will be solved right away, but... nowhere to go but up?

Hopefully the next chapter will take me less time than this one did, my thesis work allowing, but you can always poke me on any of my social media to see how things are coming along: on Tumblr (girls-are-weird), Mastodon (cpinillad), Post (cpinillad), Spoutible (cpinillad), or even on Discord (cpinillad#8868). See y'all when I see you!