Sidemen Shots

Security - Minishaw (Part 5)

They never actually got a chance to sit down and talk about the biting thing, all those weeks ago. In hindsight, they probably should have tried harder to find the time to, considering the situation they are both currently in.

For the past ten minutes, Harry and Simon have been sitting huddled close together on Simon's sofa, with Harry's legs thrown over Simon's lap, his knees up and resting against the older man's chest. During that time, Harry has had his mouth wrapped around Simon's closest shoulder, his teeth mindlessly, placidly, gnawing down over the (fortunately) thick material of Simon's woolen hoodie.

"It's like you're fucking teething, Haz," Simon eventually comments with a laugh, merely jesting. Though he can tell by the sudden retraction of pressure against his skin that the comment makes Harry feel chastised over his unusual behaviour. Simon doesn't intend to make him feel bad - never does - even if it might not seem that way lately. They're gradually moving past the obstacle that is Simon's fear of commitment, among other things.

"Hey, hey, I'm just kidding," Simon rushes to assure the younger, his tone of voice noticeably softer, much more sensitive to the situation. He places a hand on Harry's cheek, guiding the other back to his shoulder delicately. Harry bites down again gently.

"You feeling anxious about tomorrow, babe?" Simon asks, speaking his train of thought rather than simply assuming, regardless of the fact that the answer is pretty obvious to anyone with functioning eyes.

The 'babe' he tacks on to the end goes ignored but not unnoticed. Simon's been dropping it into conversations since their kiss a few days ago, and neither of them know how to address it just yet. They haven't discussed the capacity of their relationship yet, consequently stuck in limbo. They're in that awkward pre-dating stage so are purely best friends still. (They both love it though, the pet name making both men feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever it's used.)

"A little bit," Harry removes his mouth from Simon's shoulder to say, voice hush and choked with emotion, "Don't really know why, it's just like any other video we've ever recorded."

"If it's any consolation," Simon vocalises, brushing aside Harry's statement momentarily. His tone is subdued and his eyes are wide with an earnest tenderness; he makes eye contact with the younger so he can read it all for himself. "I'm feeling a bit apprehensive about it all myself." His thumb swirls in delicate patterns over Harry's warm cheek as he adds, "Besides, it's not just any old shoot. This is the first one after... you know."

Harry does know, but he would appreciate it if Simon could verbalise what exactly it was that happened between them the other day, as well as what they are now. What they're on the road to becoming.

"I suppose you're right."

Simon grins, his expression suddenly playful in comparison to the sincerity of the previous moment. "Don't sound so surprised. I'm often right."

Harry hums in response, acknowledging the truth in the elder's words. His body relishes in the physical contact Simon is enabling, his mind temporarily soothed by the serene atmosphere.

"I have a feeling we're going to end up on different teams." Harry both looks and sounds blatantly exasperated at that, a combination of disappointed and irritated that he likely won't see Simon all day tomorrow. If he does, it will only be for the half an hour leading up to the start of the shoot before the group eventually separates in to two. If he's lucky, then the teams will reconvene at the end of the road trip.

"Well, I hope we are." Simon's words are honest, meant to placate not only Harry but himself as well. "But if we're not, it's not the end of the world. We'll see each other before and after the shoot - Ethan might even plan for both teams to meet up in the middle at some point. You never know what could happen!"

Harry nods, listening. He murmurs a brief agreement to the feeble attempt at fortitude, before heaving an inconvenienced sigh. He feels peeved by a drab mixture of uncertainty and pessimism. He respects Simon's apparent optimism, whether it be for show or otherwise.

"Can I have a kiss?" Simon mutters the question, continuing to gaze at Harry in admiration as he has done throughout the majority of this conversation. The designs drawn by his thumb across Harry's skin may have stopped and started in irregular instances, but the touch has never once ceased. "Please."

"Careful, Minter," Harry teases, smiling as his adoring gaze meets Simon's own once again. "You're starting to sound a bit desperate for me."

"That's 'cause I am."

The confidence - which Harry knows to be both a front and somewhat of an accurate depiction of the other - is a commendable sentiment. There is a sort of muffled vulnerability present in the thoughtful communication that leaves Harry powerless, incapable of refusing the other's needs or wants.

"Go on, then. You can kiss me."

Oh, right, yeah - that's apparently something they do now. Never in public so far (and likely never in public ever) but the past couple evenings have involved the two 'friends' heading back to Simon's place after a shoot. The first time was because his house was closer, Harry too tired to trek it home on his bike, and the second, tonight, is because of tomorrow's main channel shoot. Things between them aren't new, exactly, other than the sudden pet name and mild, affectionate kisses, however they are unusual enough to lure both men out of their comfort zones a little bit. Spending this extra time together seems like a good enough idea to aid their goal of restoring their old support levels around each other. That, and neither of them wish to part from each other for so many hours after spending practically the last forty-eight hours together, give or take a few.

The kiss is as unobtrusive as the other few they have shared together have been, lacking extravagance but perfect in all the right ways for them. This kiss is simple, barely short but overly sweet, rich in care and respite. It's overflowing with mental ardour and is warm with devotion despite the simplicity of it.

"Mhm, well, that was fun." Harry says nearly immediately after they pull away from each other, their eyes unguarded and faces still close. Even though his tone is teasing, good-natured, the susceptibility in his stare flashes like the intensely saturated film of old VHS tapes. Simon's vulnerability blazes back like a warning beacon, retaliating against the unjust crime of withheld intimacy. Alluring infatuation sits heavy in the air around them, affectionately heckling them for being cowards by not confessing the extent of their feelings for one another. "Don't you think so, Simon?"

Simon nods, chuckling slightly at the nearly calculated response to their kiss. He will never ever get sick of Harry, and Harry will never tire of hearing the older man's honeyed laughter.

"Yeah, it was."