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“’Just in – Prince Dennis and Prince Frederik caught in cosy getaway!’”
Frederik tries to suppress the groan that wants to slip past his lips and instead throws his head back into the stiff cushion of his university dorm bed. “It was a midnight trip to fucking KFC. Because the French served frog legs and snails again!”
“Scandalous. Turning down a French speciality to enjoy American fast food,” Mick comments before he giggles. “Young Prince of Denmark supports the slaughter of innocent chicken.”
“Is that considered cannibalism? Y’know, with him looking like a scared chicken too-“ Jack chimes in now.
“I’m breaking up with you both.” Fred says, ignoring the laugher that drones out of the speaker of his laptop. “And then I put you on every watchlist of the Danish police.”
“You can’t do that.” Mick states and Fred lifts his head to see his boyfriends grin wide at him through his laptop screen. “The Danish monarchy is only a symbol-“
“Sh, I know that you’re studying politics, Mick.” Fred blows him a kiss, making the blonde blush bright red. “Let me live this fantasy.”
“Kinky.” Jack grins and now it’s Fred turn to blush. “Last time I checked, you were begging us to tie you up.”
“And you nearly choked yourself on your tie because you were eager to comply!”
“Boys!” Mick chimes in, having caught himself. Despite his blonde hair sticking up in every direction and the old pyjamas, Mick’s aura screams authority easily. “Subject change!”
“Alright.” Jack nods and Fred watches how he takes off his glasses, putting them aside with a wide smile. “Fred, we did a BuzzFeed quiz the other day.”
“Without me?” Fred pouts, ignoring Mick’s panicked shouts for Jack to stop.
“Yes, because it was about which European Prince we should date.”
“Oh? And who did you get?” Fred moves around, chin in his hands, Mick still loudly protesting for Jack to stop.
“Well I got you,” the Australian winks and Fred has to hold back a snort at Jack’s antics. “Mick on the other side…”
“Don’t you dare to tell him or I kill you!” Mick protests but it’s as harmful as a puppy barking at you.
“He got your brother Kevin!”
Fred’s German is good enough to understand the string of curse words leaving Mick’s mouth as Jack is yapping for air in the middle of his hysteric laughter.
-
It’s a chilly November morning when Fred makes his way to the library, fog hanging deep over the grounds of Oxford. It’s still early, barely past 7 am, yet a few students are already up and are bustling around him. Mike, his PPO is hovering one step behind him, cuddled in a big jacket and happily sipping on the coffee that Fred got him as compensation for having to get up early.
His lectures normally don’t start before noon, but Mick and Jack are finally back in Oxford, back from wherever they had been needed. It’s the first time they see each other in two months, with Mick having helped his dad being re-elected as Chancellor of Germany and Jack having to do a few campaigns to lift survey numbers for his dad, who is the Prime Minister of Australia.
It’s incredibly hard to meet them whenever their lives get busy and Fred is more than willing to sacrifice a few hours of sleep if it means to spend time together. Who knows for how long, before Mick is called to Germany and Jack has to fly back around the world.
When he enters the library, pushing the heavy, old and squeaking door open, all dark thoughts get lost at the instant smell of books, magazines and a heavy smell of coffee. Daniel, Jack’s PPO is lingering nearby, waving them over in his direction.
“Morning,” The man nods at Fred, then Mike. “Private room 15, level 2. Seb got his eyes on the two.” Fred thanks him quietly before making his way to the stairs, the two PPO’s chatting away behind him. One good thing about their three security officers is, that they get along nicely. They aren’t strict and Fred enjoys especially that neither Dan nor Seb bother with formalities when they are not in public. In his opinion it is ridiculous to be called Prince Frederik when he’s trying to study or get in the pants of the two hottest man alive, thank you very much.
The way isn’t too long but Fred has to force himself to not sprint the last meters and appear as composed as possible while he’s absolutely giddy. Then he’s finally there, pushes the door open and ends in two strong pairs of arms.
“Christ, not in the doorway,” Mike mutters and pushes them into the room, closing the door behind them. Fred doesn’t care. The only thing that matters is Mick’s perfume scent in his nose and Jack’s buzzcut tickling against his cheek.
“I’ve missed you,” he sighs and feels Jack press a light kiss against his neck.
“Missed you too,” Mick murmurs, his arms tightening around him. “Fucking elections.”
“Fucking campaigns.” Jack adds.
“Don’t let your parents hear that,” Fred giggles before kissing them both on the cheeks. The room isn’t big and there’s still three other people. And while their guards do their best to turn around and give them privacy, they save the real welcome for when they are alone in one of their dorms. That’s how it always is.
“Now,” Mick starts and pulls slowly away from the group hug, making Fred nearly whine at the loss of warmth. “Studying. I have a shit ton of work to catch up on.”
“Five more minutes.” Jack decides and pulls Mick back.
-
They fuck as soon as the door to Jack’s dorm closes behind them, hardly making it to the bedroom before half of their clothes get lost on the floor. Mick rides Jack, hastily and eagerly moving his hips before both of them take their turns to fuck Fred, taking him apart on the huge bed. Fred comes messily between them, clinging onto their bodies as if he’s afraid of them being gone when he comes back from the high of his orgasm.
They are still there. Jack has wiped them down with a wet cloth before pulling Fred close under the covers, positioning him right between Mick and him. He’s stroking Fred’s hair, other arm thrown over his waist to draw patterns on Mick’s hips. They talk about the past months, voices quiet and calm compared to the feverish, fast sex before. And it doesn’t take long before the warmth of the blanket lulls them into a deep sleep.
-
“You look like a teenager who vacuumed his throat.” George greets him and Fred glares at the older, not bothering to stick to formalities. George can be the Crown Prince of England and even more, for Fred he’s a little shit that has grown close to him like an older brother.
“Want me to take a look at your thighs? You’re wobbling and Lewis looked awfully smug when I saw him earlier.” Fred says back, making George pout as they step inside the salon. Weekly afternoon tea sessions at Buckingham Palace had become their thing when Fred first had moved to Oxford for university and had felt incredibly lonely – far before meeting his boyfriends. His older brother Kevin had arranged a meeting with George, who back then had also been studying and didn’t have as many royal duties as he has now. It turned into a good friendship quickly, filled with sharing worries, finding someone to talk to or go for ice cream at midnight.
Fred tries to not look too smug when George grimaces as he sits down. Jackpot.
“What’s going on between the two of you? And what would Britain say if they found out their Prime Minister and their Crown Prince are doing it behind closed doors. Right when said PM is over for his weekly report with grandpa Charles?”
“I hate you.” George states and grabs a scone from one of the plates that is overflowing with food. “And what grandpa Charles doesn’t know won’t kill him.”
“My, what’s happening with the monarchy,” Fred sighs loudly, making George giggle.
“What do you think is worse, sleeping with the PM of your country or dating the sons of two PM’s?”
“I say we’re equal,” Fred grins and picks up his teacup, one of these tiny fancy little things with floral print that are probably from Queen Victoria’s time.
“Cheers,” George responds lifting his own teacup.
-
Charity balls. Also known as modern torture form for anyone below the age of 45.
Fred’s parents are standing left to him, Kevin’s on his right side. They look all polished up, fine ironed black smoking suits and the royal blue sashes draped around their shoulders. His dad’s and Kevin’s medals from the military are glittering under the candlelight, reminding Fred that he too, has to leave for the army soon. The small crown on his head starts to feel ridiculous, on top being heavy enough already.
He’s so lost in thought for a moment, he doesn’t notice the new arrivals in front of him, getting ready to greet his family.
“Your Royal Highness.” Jack’s voice makes Fred’s head snap up and he feels the blood rush into his cheeks. He feels his parent’s and Kevin’s knowing gazes on him but it doesn’t matter – Jack’s buzzcut is platinum blonde and combined with his wonderful, sun-kissed skin Fred is ready to jump on him right there.
“Frederik,” his mom reminds him quietly, amusement swinging in her voice.
“Mr. Doohan.” Fred finally stutters out in greeting but his eyes are still glued on the short blonde hair and Jack’s face, which is now decorated by a big smirk.
To credit him, Jack decides to follow the royal protocol for once properly, bowing his head but Fred is sure it’s just to rile him up further. Mean. But two can play this game.
“You seem to have acquired a new hair colour, Mr. Doohan.” The words hurt him physically and Jack’s face tells him the other isn’t doing better, having to suppress a snort.
“Why, did you prefer brunette, Prince Frederik?”
“I surely have to get used to it, Mr. Doohan.”
“My god, get a room and shag it out,” Kevin whispers next to him, quietly enough for only Frederik to hear. His ears must be burning too now. At least his parents are busy with congratulating Jack’s father for his success in rising poll numbers in his favour and don’t catch what’s going on.
“Not before the greetings are over,” Fred whispers back, “And Mick isn’t here yet.”
“Whatever.” Kevin says, his eyes already roaming over the crowd, “Ah Marcus and Valtteri are here, if you excuse me, we have to settle once and for all who the best Scandinavian country is.”
With that, Kevin disappears into the mass of people lingering around, making Fred and Jack stand behind.
“What does he-?” Jack starts, looking confused at Fred, who can barely stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“Drinking competition. Last one standing wins,” Fred explains, pulling Jack to the side to a far quieter spot. “I believe Valtteri is leading at the moment and we can’t let Finland win that one.”
“Hej!” A big hand lands heavily on Fred’s shoulder all of sudden, making him jump at the interruption.
“Dennis!” He hisses, turning to slap the other Prince lightly. Thank god, there aren’t any cameras or journalists allowed in yet or else he’d read about starting a war with Norway tomorrow. The other Prince only grins before greeting Jack with a handshake as if he didn’t scare the shit out of Fred a few seconds ago.
“Sorry for stealing your boyfriend in a romantic getaway.”
“Cosy,” Fred corrects him with a grim face. “And it was a trip to KFC!”
“They’ve had better chicken a while ago, you know?” Dennis only continues, obviously wanting to rile Fred up a bit.
“Yeah mate, they massively lacked the past months.” Jack hops in, making small talk with the other. “I’ve once had this really great chicken wrap in London, massive thing I tell you but I never found it again.”
“You two cannot be serious.” Fred groans but quickly lightens up when he sees Mick making his way towards them through the crowds. “Please save me, they are having the chicken wrap discussion.”
Mick laughs, squeezing his hand discreetly in greeting. “The massive chicken wrap from London again?”
“Yeah, what else would it be.” Fred groans as Jack leans over.
“If I’m not dreaming about you, Princess, I’m dreaming about that wrap.”
Christ. How is Fred supposed to last through this teasing another five hours.
If they fuck in one of the empty rooms later, under the portraits of Fred’s ancestors, nobody needs to know. Especially not about the fact that his two fuckers of boyfriends found out he comes really hard when he’s called Princess.
-
The sun is shining through the windows already when they get up, having somehow managed to squeeze themselves into the tiny bed of Mick’s flat. It’s Sunday, no courses to attend or any coursework to finish, just lazing around for once. Fred allows Jack to piggy-back him under the shower, being a bit sore from last night’s activities while Mick throws on the coffee machine before joining them. It’s always a bit odd how Mick’s bed isn’t big enough for three people but the shower is.
They take their time, Fred massaging the shampoo softly into Mick’s hair, allowing Jack to do the same with him. He misses Jack’s longer hair sometimes, running his fingers through the soft strands but if Jack feels more comfortable with his hair being short, who is he to tell him something else.
After the shower, they move into the kitchen, dressed in whatever has been lying around. Fred is a hundred percent sure the sweater he’s wearing is from Mick but it’s too comfy to change out of it. It doesn’t matter, Jack is wearing one of Mick’s hoodies too while Mick has snatched joggers and a shirt from them – if he could, Fred would lock this memory in a glass jar and put it on a shelf to watch it again and again.
Mick and Jack look soft under the winter sun falling into the flat, joking around while putting together a breakfast from whatever Mick has left in the fridge. It’s enough for some porridge with fruits and scrambled eggs, which tastes great despite none of them being very good cooks. It ends with them sitting at the kitchen table, Mick reading through a stack of newspaper like the good politics student he is as Fred and Jack scroll through TikTok together.
“Top ten hottest Princes of Europe,” Jack reads the title of one aloud and Fred can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“We all know Charles and Arthur get one and two, now keep scrolling.”
“No, I want to look where you are!”
Fred feels the blush creep on his cheeks before he hooks his chin over Jack’s shoulder. “I’m never in one of those…”
“Bullshit,” Jack shakes his head as a picture of Kevin pops up for number ten. “If Kevin is at ten, it can only get better from here. Mick too would say that Kevin is a good start, right?”
“I’m not even listening to you,” Mick says from behind the giant newspaper.
When Jack does a triumphant sound, Fred turns back to the screen, seeing a picture of him at number six. It’s always weird to see himself, smiling a bit awkwardly at the camera but when Jack opens the comment section, there are quite a lot people are gushing over him, calling him cute.
“You’re a fan favourite,” Jack says, pointing at a few more complimenting comments. Fred can only roll his eyes and takes the phone from Jack’s hand.
“I want to see who’s apparently hotter than me.”
“And suddenly he’s competitive.” Mick comments from behind the newspaper, rustling with the pages.
Fred hums under his breath, watching his picture being followed by George, then Arthur, Dennis and finally Charles and Amaury, some Prince of Belgium he knows faintly.
“Oh, they are into sick looking Princes,” Jack comments, taking his phone back. “No wonder you’re sixth, you’re too healthy.”
-
Fred doesn’t find himself in Denmark often, if he’s honest. There’s not a lot for him to do with Kevin and his parents taking up most duties, giving him all the time and focus he needs for university. But Christmas is coming closer and it’s that time of the year where he has to play his role as Prince of Denmark for once.
It doesn’t help that Mick and Jack are spending the holidays together, somewhere not far away in the middle of Germany. At least they made sure to send him an invite for mountain biking through the forest but he’s not sure if his parents allow him to leave.
“Ma, can I visit my boyfriends after Christmas?”
“Hm?” His mother musters him as he flops down on the couch besides her, not very prince-like as he has been taught to do. “I rarely see you at the moment, Fred. I’d like it more if you spend your time with us, here. You’ll see them in England for the rest of the semester.”
“It’s just in Germany, for two days.” He pleads, hoping that it might changes her mind.
“If you tell me what you’re planning to do, maybe.” She gives in after a moment of hesitation, putting her arm around his shoulder to pull him closer. “You’re my youngest, my baby. I miss you.”
Fred smiles at the kiss she presses on his forehead. “Mountain biking through the forest?”
When he feels his mother stiffen, he knows the answer before she’s able to say it out loud. “Absolutely not. You broke your arm on a PR bike tour through Copenhagen, who knows what happens on a Mountain bike. We have a ton of pictures to take after New Year’s.”
“So I can’t visit them?”
“You can but I’m telling Corinna and Mike that you’re not allowed close to any bike.”
A win is a win, Fred supposes.
-
Fred:
You fucking asshole
Valtteri:
No phones at my wedding. I got you a premium seat at the back.
Be grateful or I put you next to the French.
Fred turns off his phone and messages his temples. As if royal weddings aren’t big enough headaches, Valtteri has to take the piss out of him and put him next to Dennis. The press is going to hunt them for another few months, to find out if they’re dating or not.
“I’m very happy to see you too, mate.” Dennis dryly comments and Fred sighs. “I’m going to put this bitch next to my most annoying relative at the next state dinner.”
“Quiet, or I’m ending next to the Pouchaire family today.”
“Fuck, I’ve never said anything.”
“Yeah thanks, has Theo told you too about this debutante ball in New York and the 25.000 Euros suit too? Mick said he didn’t shut up about it in Germany last week.”
“The French need to start lynching their leaders for their lifestyles again,” Dennis remarks, earning himself a slap from his mother, who has caught up on their conversation. “Sorry, I’m stopping.”
Fred uses the moment to turn on his phone again, seeing he got new messages from his boyfriends.
Jack
You look dashing <3
Mick
You look stunning!!
And now put your phone away, you’re on TV
Fred
<3
“Why are the French invited anyway?” He asks, shoving his phone back into the pocket of his suit, leaning over to Dennis. If Valtteri wants to annoy him by putting him next to Dennis, he might use it to cause some trouble.
“Apparently the Finish government wants something from them and asked Valtteri for a favour. Smearing honey around their mouths and so on.”
“My, imagine getting your wedding ruined like this.” Fred whispers back, before fulling turning to Dennis. “Want to fuck a bit with Valtteri and the press?”
-
The picture and clips of Dennis leaning in and cupping Fred’s cheek at the wedding go more than viral. Because the TV cameras had focused on them right at that moment, broadcasting it world-wide while waiting for the groom and bride to finally make an appearance.
Kevin lost his shit when he heard the entire story, because no, Dennis had not whispered romantic nothings in his ear that moment, he actually had asked Fred to come to McDonald’s with him afterwards. Then they had a long discussion about the best toys in Happy Meals until the ceremony finally started.
Fred gets a picture from Valtteri and Tiffany a week later, showing their wedding picture, beautifully framed right next to a framed picture of the cheek-cupping gate, as they all have started to call it. Jack, Mick and even Dennis’ girlfriend have made a challenge out of finding the best fanfiction about them or the worst article headlines they come across.
‘New Royal Couple Alert – All you need to know about Prince Dennis and Prince Frederik!’
‘Stoic Nordic Royals Dethrone Beloved Southern European Couple Prince Carlos and Prince Charles’
‘Our Reaction To The New Hot Royal Couple In 10 Gifs!’
‘Here’s What Royal Expert Dr. Helmut Marko Has To Say On Prince Dennis And Prince Frederik’
‘Royal Efforts To Unite Norway And Denmark Again In Strong Alliance Against Sweden And Finland!’
‘Prince Dennis And Prince Frederik Make Out At Royal Wedding!’
‘No Shame! – Watch the romantic video of Prince Dennis and Prince Frederik here!’
Most of it makes Fred shake his head. He will never understand why they are so obsessed with them, after all they are just ordinary humans with a few words in front and after their names. His phone rips him out of his thoughts, showing he got a message from Dennis.
Dennis
Hej, just wanted to check if you’re okay
Your boyfriends aren’t mad about this whole thing?
Fred
No, why would they be? Are you scared
Dennis
Well one of your boyfriends’ kick boxes and the other looks like he wrestles crocodiles before breakfast?!
Who wouldn’t be
Between his hysteric laughter, Fred manages to send a screenshot to their group chat.
Jack
Rude.
I wrestle pythons before breakfast. Crocodiles are for lunch
-
Rain pours against his windows, loudly and somewhere in his hospital room Mike is screaming down the phone. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to hear any of, he doesn’t want to speak to anyone. He wants his parents. Kevin. Jack and Mick.
Not the police, not another doctor.
He wants to close his eyes and forget all of it. But he can’t. The scene plays out in front of him again and again. Him, Jack and Mike walking through a quieter part of Copenhagen, spending the morning in a little café. The van suddenly pulling up next to them. Hands grabbing him, people dragging him towards the van. More hands grabbing him, ripping him in the other direction, trying to free him. Something hitting his head hard, turning his world dark.
Shouts, sirens, the smell of the hospital.
Waking up in an unknown bed, with a pounding head, connected to a ton of beeping machines and the police ready to ask questions. Telling him he survived a freaking kidnapping attempt.
“Fred, hey.” Mike has stopped shouting and crouches down next to his bed, gently touching his arm. “Your parents are here any minute. Kevin is already outside, waiting to see you.”
“And Mick and Jack?”
“They are still being interviewed by the police and Jack has to get a check-up.” Mike starts carefully, immediately pushing Fred back into the mattress when he tries to sit up. “Both are okay so far, but Jack got hit in the ribs with the same stick you got on your head.”
“I need to-“
“- rest, exactly.” Mike announces with a voice that signals Fred that it is the final decision. “They’ll arrive here as soon as they can. You’ve got a nasty concussion, please don’t try anything stupid while I sort out your hospital security.”
“Hospital security?” Fred echoes and swallows hard.
“There’s no way we’re letting you lay in a room in a public hospital after a kidnapping attempt alone.” Mike answers and turns around when the door opens, Kevin rushing inside. He looks out of breath, hair messed up and pale until he spots Fred being awake.
“Thank fuck,” He breathes out, hastily making his way over to the bed, pulling his little brother in a bone crushing hug. It is all it takes for the floodgates to open and Fred sobbing into his shoulder, clinging tightly on to him.
-
There’s someone warm pressed against each of Fred’s sides and he doesn’t have to open his eyes to know who it is. Jack and Mick, close to him, safe.
He knows that there’s still a nasty bruise on Jack’s ribcage that makes him wince whenever he moves too fast but at least nothing’s broken. Fred carefully pulls his hand close, making Jack smile against his shoulder in his sleep. Mick on his other side got a blue eye from where one of the attackers punched him but it has already started to fade into green and yellow. Fred feels Mick’s arm tightly around him, his face pressed against his shoulder. He tries not to move, to not cause them any pain.
Fred himself still looks horrible. Feels horrible. Everyone tells him something else, that it isn’t his fault but Fred can’t think otherwise whenever he looks into the mirror. His head is still bandaged up, half of his face swollen. His headaches get less and less frequent but he’s still not allowed to leave his bed. His upper arms are filled with dark bruises from where he’s been grabbed. The doctors said that it might take another two weeks to get better and Fred can’t wait to get out of bed, to try new distractions from the scenes that won’t stop torturing his mind.
At least he’s back in the palace of the Danish royal family and not that sterile hospital. Kevin has made sure he got transferred as soon as possible and got a bigger security team. The attackers have been caught too but Fred knows that Kevin is scared of trying to do it again. Yet, Kevin can’t save him from the nightmares, those who hunt him every night where Mick and Jack get hurt badly because of him. Where he loses them, where there’s blood on his hands.
Mick moves against him, a small groan slipping past his lip when his face catches Fred’s shoulder, ripping him out of his dark thoughts.
“Careful,” he whispers, making Mick stir awake more.
“Morning. How are you?” His boyfriend breathes out, shuffling around to take a good look at him. “Your swelling went down a bit.”
“Must be from all the cuddles I get?” Fred tries to joke but his face still hurts when he smiles.
“Looks like you need some more,” Mick leans down, kissing him softly before settling tightly against him.
“Love you two.” Fred whispers, feeling both of his boyfriends’ arms tighten around him. They are here with him. They are save.