#jessimiko

“Simon, Jericho’s been a queer hotspot ever since you flipped the Open sign on the door!” She laughs, not unkindly though. “We’re so queer here we’re pretty much a fixture in the city whether they like it or not.”

“What would I ever have to offer?” Simon accepts the almond-milk chai from North, who fixes him with a stern glare.

“Simon Lambert. How fucking dare you ask that when you are responsible for the creation of this safe space? All the queer kids who’ve found safety here- do they mean nothing to you? When I needed a place to stay after- after-” she falters, pressing her lips into a tight line. “You and Danny have faced so much shit, and this place? This incredible space? Is here because of you, Simon.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, just stands there numbly feeling too many feelings, so he carefully carries the chai and the baked tart over to Markus instead.

“Here you go,” he places everything on the table, careful to put enough distance between the cup and Markus’ sketchbook. The artist looks up from his drawing and gives him a supermodel smile.

“Thanks Simon,” Markus looks at the tart. “Oh, fresh blackberries? You’re an angel.”

“You mentioned you hadn’t had any in so long, so...” he trails off, trying to sound casual and not creepy at all. Not at all as if he’d spent the past week trying to source fresh blackberries all over Detroit. Luckily Leo’s friend Ralph grew them on the rooftop garden at the community hall.

“You’re amazing, absolutely heaven sent!” Markus laughs softly, easing into a charming smile and oh, oh how Simon’s heart flutters at the sight. His freckles crinkle when he smiles and surely that’s utterly illegal?

“D-do you-” deep breath, stay calm, “do you...want me to get them in again? For next time?” He can’t, he just can’t.

“I hear there’s a farmer’s market on this Saturday about an hour’s drive from here,” the charming smile turns into something a little mischievous. “What if we went to buy some together? For next time?”

He can feel all the blood in his entire body pooling in his cheeks and there’s none left for his brain apparently. He manages a nod, and Markus’ mischievous smile turns into a confident grin. Sliding his phone over to him, he brushes his fingers against his hand.

“I wasn’t aware my thought processes were audible.” He quips, and Simon giggles. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes slightly glazed. He’d volunteered to try the beverage in the safety of the Jericho office: private enough, but if things went wrong, medical help could be sought in no time at all. 

“Well I can hear it.” The PL600 huffs, hands on his hips trying his very best to look authoritative but not quite managing it as he collapses into another peal of giggles. “You should relax. I think you’d like this, it really is quite remarkable.”

“I’ll give it a try soon, I promise.” Markus plucks the half empty bottle from his hand and sets it on his desk just in time for Simon to slump against him, winding his arms around his waist. 

“I feel so light. Everything is a bit funny and I don’t know why? Did you know your freckles all just look like smudges right now? I can count them usually but I can’t right now.” Simon rambles, blinking owlishly up. “I can see why humans do this, you know. It’s a lot of fun. It’d help you relax I think, since you think so loudly. We should do this together. I think it’d be extra funny.”

“Alright.” Markus laughs into the clumsy kiss Simon crashes his mouth to his. “Alright, love. Next time, I promise.”

“I love you, you know?” Simon giggles helplessly into his chest. “I don’t think that’s meant to be funny but it is.”

“For you? Always.” Simon sits up, beckoning him over. “Come join me.” The bathtub is luxuriously big, much like everything in the Manfred manor and while Simon usually balked at such excess, the tub was the exception. 

He lets himself openly, lazily drink in the sight of Markus undressing, more and more of that light brown skin with its constellations of freckles being revealed with each article of clothing that drops to the floor. Markus carefully climbs into the tub and Simon shifts so his back is pressed to Markus’ chest.

Closing his eyes, he makes a soft hum in pleasure as Markus wraps his arms around his waist and noses his hair. There’s still a disconnect for him, whenever he tries to process moments like these. Markus is at his most vulnerable, his most honest and it’s always just for him alone. Him, an obsolete PL600 well past expiration, somehow the object of the RK200′s affections. Absolutely absurd.

“So.” Markus murmurs into his hair, and Simon makes a small noise of acknowledgement. “That meeting was a complete waste of time.”

“Not completely.” Simon laughs threading their fingers together. “You got to wear your fancy new overcoat and the paparrazzi had a field day. I could barely hear myself think over the sound of all those shutters clacking.”