Chapter Text
SIMON
The countryside slides past, green and unvaried. I squint against the late afternoon sun, wishing again I hadn’t forgotten my sunglasses, and idly watch the telegraph poles as they tick past.
Baz squeezes my hand. Somewhere outside Birmingham I’d slid my hand below his on the gearshift. I like the feeling of his long fingers flexed over mine, and I enjoy the mirrored motion my hand makes as he changes gears.
I wouldn’t mind a sandwich right about now. Maybe I should ask him to stop? Nah, we’ll be there in less than an hour.
We’re driving to his parents’ home in Cheshire. It’s their third residence (of five, maybe? I can never remember) and Baz has triple-checked we’ll have the house to ourselves.
We need a weekend away. Since Baz has chosen to double-major in Economics and pre-law at LSE, I hardly get to see him without his nose stuck in a textbook. And I’ve picked up a barista job for a little extra spending money. Between my early morning shifts and his late-night studying, most of our encounters are in passing on the way to work or school or sleep.
I relax my head against the headrest and turn to watch his face. He glances at me and smiles.
Merlin, what karmic lottery did I win to get so lucky?
“What are you thinking right now?” I ask.
“Right now?”
“Yeah, just…what’s the first thing that comes to mind?”
He purses his lips in thought. Mmm, those lips. I want to run my fingertip over them, trace the cool, delicate skin. I want him to bite the tip of my finger playfully.
Focus, Simon. Focus.
He smiles again, a wide unreserved smile I rarely see in London. “I was thinking about how I’m going to strip you naked the moment we walk in the door, and I’m going to hide all your clothes so you have to stay naked with me all weekend.”
“You’re joking.” (God, I hope he isn’t joking.)
He smirks. “I suppose you’ll have to wait and see. Your turn, Snow, what are you thinking?”
He says it like he doesn’t one-hundred-percent know that all I’m thinking about now is him naked. The prat. (Sexy, soon-to-be naked prat.)
I shrug. “Nothing really.”
“Nothing? C’mon, I told you what I was thinking.”
I hope he can’t see that I’m nervous. He always knows what to say. Should I say something sexy like he did? Is this a game we’re playing? What if I say the wrong thing?
My stomach grumbles as I dither over what to say. I could really go for a sandwich.
By this point I’ve passed the acceptable time limit for ‘what are you thinking’. Baz looks over at me, his features softening. “What’s on your mind, Simon?”
“It’s just – I – do you think there’ll be sandwiches?”
He laughs loudly and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. If he notices, he’s kind enough not to say anything. After flashing me an affectionate grin, he lifts my hand off the gearshift and kisses the inside of my palm.
“Yes, my love, I’m fairly certain there will be sandwiches.”