Happy Valentine’s Day! 💜 Have A Little Friends To Lovers Fluff Xx

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💜 Have a little friends to lovers fluff xx

“I want you to snuggle me.”

Simon isn’t sure he’s heard it right, at first. He’s trying to help Wille - a very drunk, very floppy and slurring his words Wille - to take his shoes off and climb into bed, but his best friend and flatmate is more interested in sprawling every which way, fully clothed, than actually getting under the covers.

“What?” He laughs, wrestling with Wille’s left sneaker, “What did you say?”

“Simon. Simon Simon Simon Simon. Simon,” he says the last one very seriously, propping himself up on one elbow as he struggles to make eye contact, “snuggle me. Right now. We should snuggle.”

“You’re very drunk, Wille,” Simon yanks the shoe free with a small huff.

Wille hums in agreement, “Snuggles, though.”

Simon shakes his head.

“But you’re so cuddly!” Wille groans dramatically, “Every time we hug I wish we were hugging more.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Simon giggles. He catches Wille’s other foot and starts picking at his laces.

“Does make sense,” Wille nods, “we make a lot of sense. Us.”

“Right.” It’s usually best to agree with Wille when he’s in this state. Otherwise he gets pouty and morose and Simon isn’t in the mood to deal with sad Wille tonight.

“Don’t you want to snuggle me?”

Fuck, why is he looking at Simon like that? His heavy lidded gaze is almost longing.

“Why do you want to snuggle me?” Simon tries to tease, tries to throw Wille off a bit, but his voice betrays him and he just sounds intrigued. Insecure.

“Cos you’re perfect, obviously.”

“Wille…” This is getting weird. He’s acutely aware that he’s helping Wille to remove an item of clothing, even if it is only a shoe, “Stop it now, OK?”

Wille frowns at him, “Did I upset you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Simon sighs, exasperated, “Yes. But you’ve had a lot to drink. You don’t want to say something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

“Won’t regret it,” Wille smiles, “I’ll still want to snuggle you tomorrow.”

Fucking hell! Simon grits his teeth. Wille is both infuriating and adorable, and, well… Simon’s seen him looking. He’s seen Wille’s eyes flutter over his bare collarbones when he makes coffee in the morning, wearing only his bathrobe, still damp from the shower. He’s seen the way Wille glances at him when they’re studying together, when he thinks Simon isn’t looking. The way he leans in closer and closer every time they go out drinking. He isn’t blind, but he isn’t stupid, either. Wille is far from ‘out,’ and they have to keep living together for the rest of the semester.

“If I cuddle you,” Simon hedges, “will you go to sleep straight after?”

Wille nods eagerly.

“OK, move up, then.”

Wille shuffles towards the wall, arms outstretched for Simon to fall into. Simon lays himself down carefully, turning to face Wille, but still keeping some distance between their bodies.

Wille grins at him, “This isn’t snuggling.”

Simon rolls his eyes. He groans in mock annoyance as Wille manhandles him into a bear hug, one arm under his neck and the other around his waist. They fit together surprisingly well, despite the height difference. His face ends up in the crook of Wille’s shoulder, breathing in the clean, spicy scent of the perfume he borrowed, and it’s fine. It’s nice, even. Then Wille’s thigh pushes up between his legs, and suddenly Simon isn’t breathing normally.

“Simon,” Wille’s hand is warm on his back, sliding up under his shirt to stroke in small circles. He nudges Simon’s nose with his, lips parted for a kiss, but Simon pulls back, pressing his palm against Wille’s chest.

“Not while you’re drunk, OK?” He whispers, nuzzling Wille’s nose so he knows it’s not a ‘no,’ just a ‘wait,’ a ‘hang on.’ ‘Let’s do this properly, because I really want it, too.’

“OK,” Wille whispers back.

They finally fall asleep all tangled together, limbs and warmth and mussed up clothing, Simon’s head resting on Wille’s chest.