"Huh. Could you, like, lick it? So you could taste it at least?" The mental image was a bit gross, but Beckett figured that it might work. He felt a bit dumb after suggesting it though. He turned back to his waffles, continuing to make himself a small plate.
"No," Simon said. "It made me sad. Vanilla is my favorite flavor."
Beckett sat back on the couch, looking at Simon with sympathy. "That… that sucks," he finally said.
"Yeah. Yeah, it does," he said. "But. You get used to it."
The soft crunch of Beckett biting into a waffle broke the angsty silence, and he couldn't help but laugh (somewhat awkwardly) around a mouthful of food. Bringing a hand up to cover his mouth politely, he swallowed the bite of waffle before clearing his throat sheepishly.
"Is it good?" Simon asked. "I might as well live vicariously through you." He tilted his head to look at Beckett.
Beckett tilted his head in consideration before making a noncommittal noise. "I mean, as good as a frozen toaster waffle can be, yeah."
"Hey! Toaster waffles are my favorite," Simon said defensively. "Don't diss toaster waffles."
"…Really? Out of all foods, your favorite is toaster waffles?" Beckett took another bite of his waffle. It was okay, but it wasn't great enough to be a favorite food.
"I like cigarettes better but they aren't really a food. So yes, toaster waffles." Simon raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"
Beckett had to admit that it was somewhat impressive how quickly Simon shifted back to intimidating. Over a toaster waffle, nonetheless. "I mean, toaster waffles are fine."
"They're from the gods themselves! Fine doesn't begin to describe them!" Simon said.
"Toaster waffles? Seriously?" Beckett laughed. "They're okay, but nice homemade waffles definitely take the cake. Besides, the toaster ones are probably made with all kinds of crappy stuff in them."
"Agree to disagree," Simon said imperiously. "I will not change my opinion on this."
With a roll of his eyes and a playful smile, Beckett finished off his waffles and dusted crumbs off his hands. "Alright. So long as you know that your opinion is wrong."
"To you," he said indignantly. "To you my opinion is wrong. To everybody else, I'm right. You're just a weirdo."
"Okay, okay." Beckett got up to set his plate back in the kitchen, a skip in his step as he did so. "Have you ever even had good waffles? Like, the homemade ones?"
“For the last time, the good waffles are toaster waffles. But yes, I have had waffles. At some pancake house. Needless to say, I was extraordinarily dissatisfied.”
Beckett furrowed a brow in genuine confusion. He ran hot water over his plate for a moment before setting it in the sink. "I- Well, I mean, I guess now I know why you're cursed to roam the world forever."
“Now, that was uncalled for,” Simon said. “I’m thinking about tackling you now.”
As amusing as his response to that might've been, Beckett couldn't focus on the threat part of that statement because at the moment he was just imagining Simon on top of him and that image definitely deserved his full attention. After he'd thoroughly thought about that, he responded with a quick and easy; "Do it." After a second of consideration, he stuck his tongue out as well.
“I think you just want me to kiss you again,” he said. “Really, Beckett, you just have to ask.” He watched Beckett’s eyes for his reaction.
"That- that is definitely not it. You should, uhm, you should probably tackle me. Fight me, and uh, y'know. Like- like a man..?" Beckett had absolutely no idea how one might attempt to start a 'fight', especially when it was just an excuse to get a hot angsty guy on top of you.
Simon sighed and got up to stand in front of Beckett. He leaned forward, close enough for Beckett to kiss him. “I think you’re lying,” he said in a low voice.
Beckett instinctively took a step back, but hit the counter. He had to look up slightly to see Simon, and that definitely wasn't helping him maintain composure. He didn't say anything, just nervously reached forward and took hold of yellow hoodie strings, tugging Simon forward to kiss him.