brandy

if simon thought you were sweet before? now he thinks you're a wham bar personified. it was supposed to be a routine stop by, well- not routine, per say, more like professional. he'd been meant to drop off some paperwork for price, be in and out and at the pub in literally five seconds. but when he's waiting for you to answer the door and he hears what sounds like coughing and a thud, he gets the sinking feeling that he's gonna be here a bit longer(he's not exactly mad at that, let's be honest). 

it's a long twenty seconds later when you open the door, all smiles and clearly very happy to see him. "simon!" you squeal, smile so wide and eyes so sparkly he begins to wonder if he's actually there and awake. simon smiles awkwardly under his mask, forgetting for a second that you can't actually see him because of how well you can usually read him, and lifts up the over-stuffed manila folder. you, clearly not caring about the folder, invite him in. 

then the smell registers.

simon stands there for just a second as you buzz around him, throwing a hand knit blanket on him and offering him tea and brownies. he knew you were an adult, and that you consumed substances. hell, you'd been out drinking with him and the rest of the crew plenty of times and he'd even seen you bum a cig off of price, but he realizes that he never even imagined you as a smoker. not this kind, anyways. 

"so! to what do i owe the pleasure?" you say as you set a now steaming and full, clearly handmade, mug on a coaster in front of him. this is when he realizes that you've somehow moved him to sit on the couch next to you. "i, uh-" simon's been in your flat plenty of  times. plenty of short spurts, like what tonight was supposed to be, but he'd never really had the opportunity he has now to fully take in what it looks like. it's just what he'd expect you to live like, hand made garlands and trinkets strewn around. whimsical, is the word you'd been described as before, and he is really starting to see why that is. "price asked me to drop these off for him, something about it being classified." he's struggling with remembering his mission tonight, the strong smell of weed and cinnamon registering in his nose in a dizzying mix as he tries to stay focused. you nod enthusiastically and go to stand up, and your movements are considerably quicker than usual, which simon takes note of. 

as you flit around your flat, simon starts understanding the situation. he hadn't judged you before, but he has a proper understanding now. it's pain relief. he'd used it himself, the years of physical and mental trauma taking a toll on him and he'd been able to get his med card years ago, so this form of medicine was not unfamiliar to him. what is unfamiliar to him is this version of you, one that moves around so spritely and easily. he'd never seen you move so freely, and it all finally connects in his head.

you, on the other hand, have just realized that your technically boss is seeing you high out of your mind. it hits you as you walk into your bedroom to put the files away and you see your bedazzled pen laying on your bed. fuck. you run back into the living room to find a maskless simon, a knowing smirk on his scarred face. "okay. okay. this is not what it looks like-" you're barely able to get it out before he's barking out an easy laugh, one you've not heard before but certain would like to again. "please, l.t.! please!" simon pretends he doesn't like hearing you beg and continues laughing as you approach him. "i can't go to jail, i'm too pretty! i won't last a day!" you're sitting next to him on the sofa now, your head on your hands as they rest on your knees and scrunch your hair in distress. simon, though thoroughly entertained, remains quiet and watches as you process (incorrectly) what is happening. your face lights up and you straighten. "i'll lift weights! i'll get really muscular!" he laughs once again, but you remain serious as your voice deepens and your expression hardens. "my voice will get really deep, i'll run the place." 

brendon park who underestimated how ardent you were about your shower routine. he knew you liked taking care of yourself, it was part of your whole job, but he didn't realize how intense you got as soon as you stepped into your bathroom. the relationship was still relatively new, and tonight was the first time he'd be sleeping over at yours, and to say he was taken aback would be an understatement. you'd slept over at his place a few times, mostly after a surgery ran too long and he'd had to cancel on an outing but still wanted to see you, and yes he'd noticed that you took a bit in the shower but he never assumed you had this level of a routine. brendon knows he shouldn't be surprised, though, with how good you smell every second of every day. for a woman he met at the gym, you sure smelled good. 

you'd met a few months ago, on one of his rare days off when he'd taken advantage and gone to the gym after 4 am, and the barista at the cafe had mixed up your orders. he'd been a perfect gentleman about it, handing you your berry smoothie and giving you a curt nod. that'd about done it for you, (that, and the ridiculous mass of muscles and curls on his head) and you'd asked if he wanted to sit down. in a rare lapse in his harsh persona, he'd agreed and found the conversation with you incredibly pleasant. that was all it took for you to end up doing the same every time he had a day off, and eventually for him to ask you out. ever the traditional gentleman, he'd let you guide the pace of the relationship, and had been pleasantly surprised when you'd ended up sleeping at his house after one of your yoga classes had run late into the afternoon. 

this was uncharted territory for him, though. he'd only ever seen glimpses of the inside of your apartment, during facetimes and through the door when he came to pick you up, and the bouquet of sweet aromas would always spill out around you as you opened the door, but he'd never been inside. it's almost exactly what he expects, though, with a forest of house plants and what genuinely looks like one million candles and incense sticks adorning numerous shelves and window sills. the aroma, though familiar and comforting, still hits him as he comes in and takes his shoes off and trades them for slippers (ones you'd surprised him with when you'd asked him if he wanted to sleep over tonight). park is so used to the harsh lights and clinical smells of the er that when you offer him a cup of tea, your hair softly pulled back and your voice oh, so gentle, he almost wishes that he could stay here forever. 

after maybe an hour of easy conversation and tea on your sofa you decide that you need to get out of your gauchos and mention, "i'm gonna take a shower, do you want to come with me?" he knows just by the soft tone of your voice that it's not necessarily out of sexual desire, but more of one for continued closeness. he nods, following you to your room as you slip off the sofa. your bedroom is also just what he'd expected, similar enough to your living room and kitchen, with warm tones and plants and even more cat trees (your cat is ridiculously spoiled), and he smiles at the few corners he recognized from facetimes. "i feel like i'm on the set of my favorite movie," he jokes before he notices you grabbing even more incense sticks. "hm, i forget you've never been in here. sorry about the mess, hank was not a happy boy this morning." at the mention of his name, your plump, elderly, black ball of sunshine meows and rubs up against brendon's leg. as he looks into his big yellow eyes, he's very glad he has his seal of approval. 

your bathroom is the room in your flat he's most familiar with, as you send him endless mirror selfies and have spent many hours getting unready on facetime with him, yet it's still surprising just how cozy it is. brendon park likes to take pride in his observational skills, he's a surgeon, it's his whole job description, but he feels like a fool when he just now realizes truly how many aroma products you have. he thinks that he'd just assumed that you just naturally smelled that good all the time and it carried into your house earlier, but now he understands. of course you have all of this, you're a yoga teacher, relaxation and ritual are your whole job description, and he feels a bit dumb as he realizes it. you're lighting what's maybe the third candle when you notice his focused expression. "do the candles bother you? i can blow them out, if you'd like." you say softly and he swears he falls more in love every time you use that tone of voice on him. he shakes his head and tries to sound the least bit offensive, "no! no, i'm not bothered. i just didn't realize how many you had." he's proud of the softness in his words, the concept so foreign to him in his day to day life, and he relaxes even more when you giggle. "i'm telling a scent story!" you say, grabbing what seem to be like lotions and oils from the cabinet. "a scent story?" his head tilts a bit, "yeah! like a color story, but for your nose!" you're so enthusiastic about it he doesn't even realize that you'd begun stripping, or that the shower is now on. he follows your lead and steps out of his pants, the slightest bit nervous when you look at him fondly. only you could make the forty year old surgeon this soft. 

he doesn't think anything of the incredible amount of steam already swirling around the room when you motion him into the shower, mind entirely too focused on just how pleasant this is. not just being here with you, basking in the intimacy, but the whole experience. he's surrounded by soft, yellow, lights and smells he swears he's never been blessed with smelling before this very moment, and it's genuinely making him smile. it's when the water finally touches his skin that he's brought back to reality, and reminded that he's not in fact dreaming. it's scalding hot, and feels like he's been sprayed with molten lava. brendon looks down at you, searching for signs of discomfort, because this cannot possibly be on purpose. his ivory skin is now bright red, and he's flinching back in the shower, trying to make it seem like he's being nice and giving you more time with the water. you're completely lost in the steady stream of liquid fire, scrubbing at your skin with the first of three, yes, three kinds of soap, and smiling like a cat in the sun. he would think it was endearing if he wasn't literally fighting for his life. 

it's when you remember you have a whole man in the shower with you and try to switch places with him that you realize that he's huddled as far away from the water as possible that you realize that something might be wrong. "you ok?" you ask, brow slightly raised and god he wishes he could ignore the smile in your voice. "yeah, everything's great!" you clearly don't believe your boyfriend, the hand holding the bar of soap coming to rest on his chest. "okay, no. do you always shower this hot? how is your skin still intact?" this catches you off guard and you bark out a laugh, the loudest you've been all night, and brendon can only let out a nervous chuckle in response. "sorry," you say, turning around and turning down the heat, "guess i'm too used to it, didn't realize it'd be uncomfortable. tell me, next time." his heart warms at the implication, and he accepts your movements as you guide him into the water. it's a much better temperature now, less of a boil and more of a warm now, and he smiles to himself as he feels you scrub his back.