Beckett leaned into the touch with a wide grin, face dusted a light red at all the praise that came out of the blue. Not to say he didn't enjoy it, of course. "I like your eyes," he murmured, wanting to contribute something.
“Thank you,” Simon said. He wasn’t used to compliments, so he avoided eye contact, unsure what the etiquette was here.
He gently reached his hand up to cup Simon's cheek, softly turning his gaze back towards him. "You can't look away right after I say I like your eyes, where's the sense in that?" Beckett leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of Simon's nose with a quiet chuckle.
Simon blushed. "I'm not used. . . I'm not usually complimented. You know, since I'm dead and all." He tilted his head into Beckett's touch.
Beckett's heart swelled. "Mm. Well you'd better get used to it." He would be absolutely showering Simon in praise whenever he could. It hurt a bit to know that he'd gone so long without being cared for like this.
"Oh. Alright. Okay," he said. "Thank you? I guess. I don't know." He touched Beckett's hand on his cheek lightly.
"You-you don't have to thank me." It was somewhat amusing to see Simon, ever intimidating and put together, awkward and unsure of himself.
"You thank people who do nice things for you, right? And that was nice. So I thanked you." Simon shrugged. "Is that not right?'
"I mean, I guess, but I'm doing this because I want to." Beckett shrugged, glancing away for a split second. "Just- don't worry about it, I mean."
"Oh. I- Sorry? That's probably not right either." Simon looked down, embarrassed.
Beckett tried his best to not overflow with affection. "You don't have to respond at all if you don't know what to say," he suggested, hopefully being helpful.
"You have a strange look on your face," Simon observed. "Like you're trying not to fart. It's the same face you made upstairs when you wanted to say something."
Beckett barked a laugh, face going slightly pink. "I- I didn't realize I was making a face," he eventually said.
Simon pushed the few waves of hair falling in his face to look at Beckett. "Did you want to tell me something, or do you have to fart?"
"Uh, neither, actually." He quirked an eyebrow in mild amusement. "I was just thinking. Don't worry about it."
"Too late," he declared. "I am already worried about it and therefore you can't do anything about my worrying."
"Alright, well…" Beckett shrugged. "I should probably make some food." It wasn't a great way to change the topic, but it worked.
"I can't exactly stop you, can I?" Simon pointed out. He thought for a moment, then said, "Although, it is my house, I suppose."
"Huh. I hadn't thought about that. Would that make you my landlord?" Beckett stretched for a moment before getting to his feet.
"Well, you aren't paying me for the house, so no. I mean, I have no use for money."
"True, I hadn't thought about that." Beckett made his way to the kitchen. He wasn't particularly hungry but if he didn't eat now then he would forget to eat until dinner.
"What are you gonna eat?" Simon said, moving to lay so that his head hung off the couch, and he turned his head to look at Beckett.
Beckett shrugged, looking through the fridge for a moment. "Probably something small, I don't have much of an appetite." He pulled out a small cup of yogurt and set it on the counter, following it with two slightly freezer-burnt waffles that he slipped into the toaster.
"Is there a reason for that? Or is that just what it's like?"
Grabbing a small saucer from the cabinet, Beckett set it next to the toaster. "…I guess that's just what it's like for me? I dunno, haven't thought about it much." After a moment of consideration, he put the yogurt cup back and opted for just waffles.
Simon didn't say anything, mostly because he was thinking about how nice waffles would taste. He watched Beckett with mild interest.
He glanced up at Simon. "You wanna try and eat one?" Beckett offered, unsure if it was even physically possible but definitely willing to give it a shot.
"I have tried. It doesn't work. That's why there was yogurt on your floor seven days after you moved in," he answered. "Sorry about that."
Beckett's eyes widened in disbelief. "That was you? I can't believe I blamed Zelda," he sighed. His waffles popped up and he quickly transferred them to his plate, shaking his hands in an attempt to cool them.
"Yes. I love yogurt. Unfortunately, I am not able to digest or eat things. Only to touch and move them."
