Archive of Our Own ^beta

Simon thinks they need some kind of signal. He can't go on like this. One day Kieren Walker will be the second death of him, kissing him whenever he pleases, whenever Simon doesn't expect it. One day it'll send Simon tumbling down a set of stairs, or off a balcony.

He tried to figure it out. He did -- he tried to piece together what he said moments before, or what he did, or how he looked at Kieren, but nothing ever added up. Rarely does a line work twice, rarely does Kieren fall for it when he says something flirty in the hopes of receiving a kiss. There's the glances, but those don't always mean Kieren will act. Sometimes they're both there, eyes flicking to each other's lips, crowding each other, and then Kieren turns away like nothing ever happened.

Happens a lot, actually. One evening, as they sit lazily on Amy's couch letting the television fill the silence of the living room, Kieren turns, curls his hands into Simon's sweater and pulls him down into a harsh kiss. Their teeth clash, and Simon is pressed back against the couch with all of Kieren's weight, pushing him down. It lasted only a moment, a brief, intoxicating moment where Simon's hands grabbed at Kieren and he kissed back with as much intensity as his surprise allowed him.

It's one of those incredible kisses, the kind that left you breathless and dizzy back when air was something you needed. If Kieren's lips are pressing too hard against Simon's, neither of them can tell; their feeling ends where pain begins. Simon's hands are desperate and greedy, latching onto Kieren's shoulders, one coming to his face, and just as he angles for more -- it's over.

Kieren moves away and sits back down, his attention back to the television. Like nothing even happened, like Simon doesn't feel like the air has just been sucked out of his lungs.

A sharp exhale escapes him as he tries to recover, but his mind is running wild with the various scenarios his old living self would've loved to engage in with the body pressed against his side. It's not quite the same anymore, there are things they can't do, certain unattainable results they find compromises for.

It doesn't help his state. He feels like an elastic, being stretched to its full extent but never released. Simon glances down to notice Kieren has actually fallen asleep, and he's almost offended with the gall of Kieren Walker, kissing the life out of him for a minute and then promptly dozing off.

They definitely need a signal, but does he really want one? Part of Kieren's charm is how bewildering and unpredictable he is, how Simon thinks he's got him all figured out only to be shown different, how Kieren never ceases to surprise and amaze him.

Kieren shifts at his side, and his arm slides to hook around Simon's. He doesn't know if Kieren is actually asleep or only using it as a pretext to cuddle, but either way, he smiles down at the top of his head, at Kieren's cheek squished against his shoulder.

He'll just have to make sure he's holding onto the rails, if they happen to be on stairs, or on a balcony, or any higher ground.

As Kieren moves again, his hand reaching for Simon's, something tells him Kieren's not about to let him fall.