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"Well that sounds like a you problem, Sy." Beckett grinned mischievously at him, knowing he didn't particularly like that nickname. "Let me know when you figure it out, though."
"Well that sounds like a you problem, Sy." Beckett grinned mischievously at him, knowing he didn't particularly like that nickname. "Let me know when you figure it out, though."
Simon kicked Beckett in the shin. "Absolutely not. I will eviscerate you if you say that again."
Beckett yelped in surprise, resituating after a moment and trying not to be too embarrassed by the weird noise he'd just made. "If you wanted to do that, you would've done it years ago. I call bluff."
"Actually, I'd rather you be able to see the feral look in my eyes as I carve out your large intestine. And as I recall, you weren't able to see me until yesterday."
Beckett's eyes widened briefly before he cleared his throat. "U-uh." He wouldn't actually, right? Probably not. He was just joking. Right? Yeah.
"Do it, pretty boy. You won't." He leaned slightly closer, staring Simon down and trying to reassure himself that this was just a goof. He didn't want to be that guy that got scared by a joke.
Simon leaned forward too, in an attempt to psyche Beckett out. "I might. And calling me 'pretty boy' is moving you a step closer to waking up like me."
As nervous as Beckett was, he was sure that it wasn't for the reasons he should be. He stood his ground, certain that if he backed down now he'd never hear the end of it. Humming softly, he looked Simon up and down before meeting his eyes again. "Do it then, pretty boy."
Simon grinned and willed his hand to go transparent and shoved it straight through Beckett’s stomach. “Now, I’m fairly confident that if I willed my hand to become solid again, I could pull your intestines out, or at the least severely damage them. Next time, think things through, pretty boy.”
He made a choking gasp sound, instinctively grabbing Simon's forearm. Beckett's jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he stared up at the look on Simon's face with a flash of mild fear. Logically he knew he should move right now, leave the room, even the house. But after gathering his wits back up, swallowing hard and pulling just enough confidence back up, he leaned closer. He was practically shaking with nerves as he looked right at Simon. "Y-your move," he whispered, trying to suppress the shake in his voice.
Simon tilted his head slightly. He drew his hand back, then reached up and lightly brushed his fingers against Beckett’s face. Then, just as suddenly as he did this, he pulled away and got to his feet. “I’m sorry. Nevermind.”
Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Beckett's gaze flickered from Simon and then back to the window before he settled on gazing out the glass, though he wasn't really seeing anything. …What had just happened? He mindlessly reached his own hand up to his cheek where Simon's had just been. Almost. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out for a moment. "You don't have to apologize," he murmured.
"Well, I did anyway," Simon said harshly. "It's a bad idea. And I'm not going to do it again." He crossed his arms, looking out the window. Beckett wasn't even supposed to be able to see him, much less kiss him.
"Oh." Still cradling his cheek in his hand, Beckett glanced up at Simon for a split second, trying to figure out what in the world was going through his head. "…W-what, exactly, is a bad idea?"
"Kissing you. Look, you aren't. . . It doesn't matter now. But you can see me, and that's not normal." Simon didn't look at him. "Just- let me think about it, alright?"
Beckett nodded quickly. "Right. Right. Yeah." That made sense. They were getting ahead of themselves. Yeah. …Had Simon wanted to kiss him? That sentence implied that he'd wanted to, right? Beckett's mind was practically buzzing with thought.
"Okay. Fine." Simon turned from the window and went back downstairs. He sat on the couch, twisting his hands in his lap, his eyes half-closed. This was all very disconcerting.
Beckett didn't look backwards, but he heard Simon walk off. He didn't follow this time, instead laying back on the hard floor and staring up at the ceiling. He was ninety-percent sure he was overthinking all of this, but did that self-awareness stop him? Absolutely not.
Simon got up and went to the front door, peering out the peephole. It was still weird to him that the world went on without him. More than that, all of a sudden he was put back into the world, what with Beckett being able to see him.
Beckett mindlessly reached for his pocket to grab his phone before remembering that he'd left it downstairs. He groaned softly, unwilling to face Simon so soon after that encounter. He was still processing what had happened, honestly. How the hell had a minor death threat turned into that? He wasn't exactly complaining, but things seemed like they'd be a bit more awkward now.
Simon huffed. “Beckett, you can come downstairs. I’m not going to throw you on the couch and kiss you passionately.” He moved so he could peer up the stairwell.
Beckett half-wanted to retort with some clever joke- was it a joke? -about how he might enjoy that, but decided that it was probably not a good idea. "I know!" He called back instead. His mind was still buzzing in thought- mostly wondering whether Simon seriously, actually wanted to kiss him or not, and whether or not Beckett would want that. He really wanted to answer to both of those to be no, but on the other hand. Um.
He pushed himself over to the top of the stairs, still sprawled out on the wood floor. "…Hey."
Simon wrinkled his nose. "Was that a "Hello" hey or an "I have a question" hey?" He shook out his hair and blew it out of his eyes.
"Uh. Both." It was originally just a greeting, but he might as well ask what he wanted to ask. He psyched himself up for a second, took a deep breath, then spoke. "Did you- I mean, were you actually thinking about kissing me?"
"I have two answers for you. Number One: Does it matter? And Number Two: Are you sure you want me to tell you?" He watched Beckett, his expression carefully blank.
"One; not really, I guess, but I'd like to know." Beckett took a second to readjust his glasses, which were beginning to slip off. "Two; I think so. I mean- yeah. Yes. Please." He really hoped his face wasn't betraying how many emotions he was feeling right now.
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