Beckett fell silent for a moment, trying to come up with a defense when his mind was now clouded with images of shirtless Simon. “…W-well that’s different!”
“How is that different? You want to take off my clothes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see any difference.”
“That- you’re making it sound way more lewd,” he complained. “Taking all you clothes off is different than just taking off your shirt.”
"You're the one making it lewd. And now you're thinking of me naked, aren't you," he said in an accusatory tone. "It's only different because you're making it different."
"You're the one who brought it up, it was all your doing." Beckett sighed, lightly covering his face and purposefully ignoring the question.
"And so what if I brought it up, Mr. Question-Deflector? You're so easily flustered," he said in a more mild voice. "You've probably seen people naked. I don't get why it's a big deal."
"Because it's different." Sure, Beckett had seen a few naked people in locker rooms and such, but he hadn't… Well. Simon didn't need to know that part.
"Why is it different?" Simon pressed. "It's a body. You have one. I. . . don't really have one. Nevermind. Look, it's just a fact of life."
"I-yeah, obviously, but in this specific context, it's just different." Beckett fumbled over his words slightly, as he always seemed to do when he got nervous.
"Oh, why, because we were making out?" Simon shrugged. "Whatever. I don't understand you."
"…Sure. Let's-let's just go with that," he muttered the last bit under his breath quietly. "Can I have a kiss now?"
"No, you most certainly cannot. I thought I explained this thoroughly. Apparently not." He shook out his hair. "You aren't going to kiss me."
"Really? Just because I called you cute?" Beckett pouted, looking up at Simon with puppy dog eyes. "Please?"
"No. And don't think you can charm me into it. I can see through your lies from a mile away."
“Alright, fine. I guess we’ll just sit here then. Not making out.” Beckett looked around the room, trying not to look at Simon to drive the point home.
Simon moved from the couch and sat on the ground, his feet propped up on the couch, watching Beckett with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.
“Oh cmon, come back.” Beckett remarked, tempted to fall to the floor with him. “You can’t deprive me of all affection.”
"I just did, and will continue to do so, until you say that I'm not cute." He glared at Beckett, crossing his legs, letting his arms rest on his knees.
Beckett frowned. “Okay, alright, fine. You’re not cute. Now come back.”
"Yeah, but do you mean it? Like really, really mean it?" He pursed his lips, popping the joints in his fingers.
“I- yes, absolutely. I do. You are not cute. I mean it.” Beckett glanced away for a split second, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
“What is it now? You’ve gone all fidgety.” Simon got up and sat next to Beckett on the couch, crossing his legs again.
“I have not.” Beckett flopped unceremoniously onto Simon’s lap, looking up at him with a wide grin.
“Yeah, you were. You did the neck itch thing,” he pointed out, tracing flowers on Beckett’s thigh.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beckett mumbled with a smile, closing his eyes happily and just enjoying the moment.
Simon scowled. “I’m going to bring that back up later,” he said, but continued his artwork on Beckett’s leg.
"Mm. Okay," Beckett mumbled. He could probably fall asleep like this, he thought. He mindlessly tracked the patterns that Simon was drawing with mild curiosity, taking his other hand in his and twining their fingers together.
“Are you tired? You can go to sleep, love.” Simon looked at Beckett, smiling slightly. “I won’t leave.”
Love. Beckett smiled softly, opening his eyes and peering up at Simon. “Love?” He stroked his thumb over Simon’s hand slowly, turning it over and pressing another kiss to his skin. He liked doing that.
"Yes? Is that alright with you?" Simon's eyebrows came together. "I didn't think about it before I said it."
