#butch simon

you’d been tempted to delete the app all together after the last date, but maybe your neighbour was onto something. maybe you’d have better luck editing your profile and trying out a few dates with the single women in your area instead.

hell, it couldn’t hurt to try, couldn’t be much worse than the dates you’d been on recently at the very least. and it wasn’t like you’d not thought about it before, either.

you’d always shut those thoughts down before when you’d been growing up, but now? you thought about the heat that pooled when you caught your neighbours kissing, or working out in their garden, smoking on the back step or smiling at you when you got home around the same time as them. you thought about it and knew something had to be done.

mind made up, you changed a few of the details of what you were looking for on the app and refreshed it, feeling giddy instead of resigned as you swiped through the profiles.

—

a few nights later, walking back after your date hand in hand with the gorgeous woman you’d spent the last hour laughing with, you caught simon with a smoke dangling from his mouth as he took out the bins. he always pulled yours from the front garden and onto the pavement too without you asking, setting it neatly next to his for the garbage men in the morning.

watching him in his routine, pausing to take a deep drag before continuing, you suddenly felt shy, and a little bit… guilty?

it didn’t help when your date walked you to your door and smiled at you, told you how much fun she’d had and how she’d love to take you out again sometime soon.

half of your attention was on simon as he stalked back up his path, hesitating at his own door mere feet away from yours as he puffed on the last dregs of his cig before stubbing it out on the side of the fence, his eyes never leaving yours once.

you could only nod along to what she was saying, distracted by the grimace pulling at his scarred lips until suddenly she was leaning in and kissing you.

you floundered, hands fluttering up to her shoulders to gently push her back with an awkward, airy laugh, hoping it played off as bashful and nervous more than mean or uncomfortable. you did like her, your date, but simon’s nosy presence was throwing you off.

“you’ll call me?” she asked, a little more hesitant now, and you nodded eagerly, feeling guilty for a whole new reason.

“yes, definitely,” you promised. “i had a nice time too,” you confirmed belatedly. she smiled and leant in to kiss your cheek chastely before heading off with a wave, leaving you to stand awkwardly at your door while simon watched you blatantly.

you flicked your eyes across and smiled stiltedly, feeling like you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar for some inexplicable reason.

“have fun?” he asked, crossing his arms over his binded chest.

“yeah, she was uhh— she’s nice. it was nice,” you said and cleared your throat. “took kyla’s advice on trying to date women, she might’ve been right after all.” you forced a soft laugh out to ease the tension but simon seemed to only stiffen when you mentioned his girlfriend. “anyway… thanks for grabbing the bin again, i owe you one. see you later.”

simon wasted no time entering his own home once you were out of sight and bee lined for gaz, sat on the sofa with her legs across johnny’s lap and her head on price’s shoulder. the space simon had left was still empty and price patted it enticingly.

simon had other priorities.

“you,” he said menacingly, pointing at kyla. “she was on another fucking’ date.”

johnny rolled her eyes at the same time as gaz. “let me guess, the bloke wasnae a stunner.”

“wasn’t a bloke,” simon huffed.

price’s brows rose at that, attention caught and held tight.

“what?” gaz asked as she sat up.

“she said she took your advice and she’s started dating women now,” simon huffed as he finally dropped into the seat next to price. “‘your advice’. what the fuck did ya say to her?”

gaz looked sheepish as she thought back to the conversation and sat up straight. she rubbed the back of neck and winced. “basically said she’d have more luck dating women, we’d appreciate her more.”

“and by ‘we’ did it sound like you meant us, or women in general?” price pushed.

“probably women in general,” she grumbled. “but i didn’t want to lay it on too thick and scare her away!”

“fucking hell, gaz,” johnny groaned. she called her hands and stood with fanfare. “right, time for the big guns. i’m sunbathing naked tomorrow.”

“it’s raining tomorrow, johnny,” simon said flatly.

“great, then i’ll be naked and wet, she’ll have no chance.”

“you’re all muppets, jesus fucking christ,” price sighed into her hands. “johnny’s right about one thing though. subtlety hasn’t worked.”

“what’s the plan then?” gaz asked.

and you were, but it was still rude of her to call it out like that.

you opened your mouth to respond but stopped dead when she hinged at the waist, pressing up against you with her big body, the heat transfer alone sending your brains spinning into mush, it had been so long since you had been touched.

her warm hands steady yours, you could hear her breathing just over your shoulder. you couldn't help but grind back, just a bit, just enough to call it an accident if it all went south.

what you were expecting was for her hips to shoot forward, pinning your firmly in place between her and the edge of the table. the hard side found all your soft spots to jab into, the hint of pain knocking your breath right out of your chest.

you swallowed dryly and let her maneuver you however she liked, short panting breaths practically tripping over one another as you fought to get any air into your lungs. you were fine. you were totally cool. you were playing this off perfectly.

she hummed lowly in her throat as she helped you make a shot, the black ball sinking into a pocket in the corner.

"did i just win?" you asked.

"nope, just lost, lets go."

she waited (somewhat) patiently as you gathered your things, meeting your eyes steadily just before the door, a final check in that you were okay with this, that this was leading somewhere you wanted to go.

you couldn't help but smile back at her, pleased at this softness peeking through to hint at a rounded individual. you'd made the right choice to shake your ass in her direction.

the truck had been a nightmare to organise in the first place when the company fucked up your booking date last minute and refused to give you a truck in the morning until si threatened to come down there and give them a piece of her mind.

after heavily censoring a message from si to the desk clerk, you were able to get a truck, just a good hour and a half later than planned. it was also clearly an older model, not that you or si would care, but you sniffed at how much it’d be costing you.

you’d then trapped your hand under the heavy sofa when you’d tried to help si lift it onto the u-haul truck, yelping in pain until she was able to ease it off again and you could slip it close to your chest protectively with a wince. she’d checked it over and wrapped it as soon as you were back upstairs in your flat with the first aid kit, but the ache stayed for the rest of the day.

after hoping that would be the end of your bad luck, si had tried carrying your record player you’d found at a garage sale along with two heavy boxes down the stairs to save time after your injury had you flagging. and despite your several warnings to go careful and offerings to still help, she promised she was capable so you left her be. those promises turned stale in her mouth when she tripped on the last step of the stairs and your record player went flying out of the wedged-open front door, smashing on the pavement.

you’d found her a few minutes later knelt and picking up the pieces with wide, worried eyes and you could only sigh, forcefully slow, through your nose.

when you finally had everything packed up and the keys returned to your now ex-landlord, you both got into the car with giddy smiles only to find that the a/c wasn’t working anymore.

you flicked at the buttons and temperature gauge until si shooed your hands away to do the same. you could’ve sworn it had worked on the drive over from the depot.

with no other option, the pair of you shrugged and set off with the windows wound all the way down instead.

no a/c wouldn’t be an issue on your average british day, even in the summer, but there had been an unexpected heatwave over the last week - fuck you climate change - and the pair of you were sweating buckets only ten minutes into the journey.

yeah, it really felt like everything was against you and the move.

not five minutes later, si pulled over into a sainsbury’s car park and hauled herself out with a huff, leaving you sat in the greenhouse of a front cab without a word. you frowned and waited her out, messing around with the music on your phone until you found a summer playlist from seven or so years back. there were a few old favourites you’d forgotten about and you tapped your foot along to them.

suddenly something cold landed on your legs and you sucked in a sharp breath as you picked it up reflexively.

a calippo…

your favourite ice lolly and just what you needed right then.

you grinned across at si and leant in for a chaste kiss, tasting the sweat from her upper lip despite the caution.

“thank you.”

she shrugged and stuck her unwrapped twister in her mouth before turning the engine back on and setting off back on the road.

you cut your eyes across to your girlfriend when you heard her humming along to a song and bit your lip to keep your smile from becoming too obvious. you knew this game.

if you waited her out without paying too much attention, she’d be singing at the top of her lungs in no time, but if you made a fuss too soon then she’d recede into her shell.

you started to sing along lightly, skipping a few lines here and there when you didn’t know them and to make sure si was getting louder alongside you.

you grinned and reached over to squeeze her thigh when your patience paid off and she started to sing off key with confidence, her voice harmonising in a cackle with yours as she drove along, your voices drowning out the music even as you sang the wrong lyrics.

the pair of you laughed when the song came to an end and at the first sign of a red light, she was leaning over to taste your orange ice lolly on your tongue.

the drive went a lot quicker after that. and unpacking went a lot smoother once you got to your new house, even with you insisting you could still help with your injured hand.

si made sure to stop what she was doing and kiss your knuckles gently every time she saw your face twist in pain when you put down another box in the living room.

you cooed and pouted until she’d lean in and kiss your lips too, snuggling into her chest when she went to kiss your crown as a third and final signature of love as you worked to put together your new home.

you watched her longingly in the evening when she tried to find the plates and cutlery in the incorrectly labelled boxes after you ordered takeaway for dinner. you knew then and there that you’d be spending the rest of your life with her if you had any say, no matter how many obstacles tried to get in your way.

“think we’ll have to use our ‘ands,” she hummed, defeated. her hands were on his hips as she looked over the boxes she was sure she’d packed them away in yesterday. a stray thought came to mind that if those had gone missing then god knows where her oestrogel was packed away among all of this; she’d need to find that again by morning.

you squeezed her around her waist tightly and smiled goofily into her sweaty shoulder.

at the press of teeth she peeked over her shoulder at you. “y’better not bite me.”

alternatives:

johnny/gaz: i think they’d like a bit of competition between themselves, would send it to you with a cheeky lilt to the message, “who’s been working harder, babe?” or maybe “who looks better?” if they’ve riled each other up too much and need a third opinion to decide who’s made the most progress since they’re lifting pretty much the same weight and their stamina is just about level.

when you reply a flirty, “think we’ll have to run some tests at home” they don’t waste time finishing their sets before leaving.

simon: he rarely sends a posed selfie but when you request it (and maybe send an example photo of yourself first) he’ll oblige with his face covered.

finds it funny when you promptly send it back with red circles dotted all over and an almost blunt text, “this is where i’m going to bite you when you get home”, only there isn’t really any patch of skin you haven’t circled twice over.

price: she’s another one, like simon, that’s likely to have the lads take a candid photo and suggest she sends it to her missus. price would be in the locker room, half changed and laughing at something soap was saying when she catches gaz out of the corner of her eye.