Chapter Text
“Baz what do I taste like to you?”
“You taste like sweat, Simon.”
“And that tastes like..?”
“Don’t be disgusting, Snow.”
“You taste like soap. And sometimes the aftershave I brought you last Christmas . But mostly soap. Sometimes you taste like your dinner, you animal. I like it when you taste like toothpaste. Once you tasted of butter. I liked that less. I liked that more.”
“What did I taste like the night we first…”
A sigh.
A silence.
A moment stretched out, thinning, threatening to break-
It begins to rip. It pulls back.
“You tasted like magic, Simon.”
“Oh. Oh of course.”