Work Text:
“Have you ever tattooed a boyfriend before?”
Baz looks at him up and down. Then arches an eyebrow, settling his eyes on Simon’s naked torso.
“I mean, besides me. Have you ever tattooed someone you were dating?”
“No.” Baz frowns. “You’re the first.”
Simon feels very pleased about this.
They’re standing in the kitchen—Simon often spends the night at Baz’s flat now. Baz is standing in front of the counter, making sandwiches for both of them.
Simon likes him like this, all relaxed with his hair in a messy bun. His hands itch with the desire to pull off the elastic and run his fingers through long black waves. He likes that Baz is wearing nothing but pants and one of his shirts (it’s an old faded thing that says fries before guys) (“I’d put you before fries,” Simon told him when he put it on, solemnly—like this was a terribly serious matter). With a smirk, Simon thinks about how he likes it even more when Baz takes it all off. He really, really likes it… So much, it’s almost too much to handle. Like he’s not big enough to contain all his feelings for this man.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because… I want to know everything about you.” Simon wraps his arms around him from behind and rests his chin on his shoulder, surveying his work. “Put more butter on that one.”
“It already has too much butter,” he says disapprovingly, but he adds more.
Simon grins at him.
“You look pleased.”
“Of course.” Simon’s grin widens. “Baz, I just realized… I’m your first.”
“That’s certainly a way to put it.”
“I mean. Have you dated other tattooed men? Did you insult their terrible tattoos to begin an elaborate plot to ask them out?”
“I did not—”
“See? I’m special.”
Baz rolls his eyes.
“For the record, I think you were very cute. Mean as fuck, but totally cute, too.”
Baz rolls his eyes again (Simon is on a roll today) but his cheeks are pink.
“When I was still in art school, I drew cover up designs for some boys I dated. I’ve kept my work and my private life completely separated after that.” He pauses, cutting the crust off. “It felt like the sensible thing to do, of course. It gave me a sense of… control.”
Baz arches an eyebrow, without taking his eyes off his task. “Then I met you.”
“You’re telling me you liked me so much you lost control over yourself?” Simon scrunches his face, like he’s thinking some very serious thoughts. “That’s kinda hot.”
Baz gives him the side-eye. He looks very unimpressed with him.
Simon bites his long, elegant neck. Then he sucks.
“Simon,” Baz gasps, squirming. “I’m holding a knife.”
Simon pulls away but keeps his arms around Baz’s waist. He decides not to comment on the hotness of that particular statement.
“You should tattoo my name on your neck.”
“No.”
“Fine. I can compromise. You should tattoo it on your ass.”
Baz laughs and pushes him off.
“Here,” he says, passing Simon his sandwich.
Simon takes a big enthusiastic bite. He moans. “Finally. I was starving.”
For a moment, they eat together in silence, resting against the counter. In the corner, there’s a transparent vase with flowers Simon gave him yesterday. Lavender roses. Coral roses. Baby’s breath. Pink hydrangea. Simon was feeling quite mushy, but he was justified. He had an appointment with Baz to write down the new tattoo he wanted. Baz, right over his heart. Baz kept reassuring him that it was okay to change his mind—he encouraged it, even. But this feels right. Baz is it. Simon wants forever with him.
Simon observes Baz’s profile. He looks lost in thought.
“It was about control…” he murmurs.
“What was?” Simon asks between bites.
“Well. There was an… unfortunate period in my life. I wanted to be rebellious. It made me feel like I was free. Finally in control, somehow. But I was just a stupid kid trusting the wrong people.”
Simon has finished eating. He takes in the words, but tries not to think too hard about the meaning behind them. Not right now. He tries not to imagine Baz, so young and hurt, because he doesn’t want to wrestle with the impulse to track down names just to beat them up. Simon puts his arms around Baz’s waist again instead, pulling him closer. Baz puts down his half-eating sandwich on the counter.
“After that, I just… closed off. I didn’t want anyone to get too close. I was wrong before—I thought this was real control. The pulling away before they had the chance to really get in... Either way, I figured I was destined to be disappointed by bright, bold, reckless men who were no good for me.”
Simon kisses his cheek. “I would never lead you astray, babe.”
Baz makes an unconvinced noise, but the corners of his mouth twitch.
“I mean it! Listen... I don’t want to promise that I won’t ever disappoint you, because I want to be honest with you, and I’m such a mess I guess I’m used to being a disappointment like... in general. But Baz…” Simon cups his cheeks, gently. “I’ll always do everything I can to take care of you. To keep you well. I want to make you happy.”
Baz looks into his eyes. “You’re not a disappointment, Simon.”
Simon bites his bottom lip. He believes him. But it’s hard to leave old habits behind.
“I mean it, too. You’re not a disappointment.” Baz leans down to kiss him. Simon releases his bottom lip and opens his mouth for him, but Baz pulls away to speak again. “I trust you.”
Simon kisses him. His hands go up. He pulls off the elastic, setting Baz’s hair free. He runs his fingers through it. Simon likes this. The kissing. Eating together. The conversations. Baz, slowly opening up. Baz, wanting to share himself with Simon. Letting him in.
“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Baz whispers between kisses.
Simon deepens the kiss, feeling the warmth spreading in his chest. One of his hands slides under the shirt, caressing Baz’s skin. He pulls him closer. He can’t get enough of him.
He wants…
He wants…
His stomach growls. Loudly.
Baz pulls away, eyes big with surprise. “How are you still that hungry?”
“Uh…" Simon gestures towards the half-eaten sandwich on the counter, cheeks burning. "Are you going to finish that?”
Baz laughs. He lets him have it. He kisses Simon’s red, freckled cheek, murmuring against his skin.
“You shine brighter than everyone else, Simon.”