A Misunderstanding
inspired by a little Twitter convo with @rosycheeked and @grantairesbottle @journeymanfive lol. here's some plain ol fluff written during a lunch break.
"So," she said, twirling her hair around her finger. "Do you do the pick up often?"
"Not usually, no," Simon said affably. "I'm usually in charge of the drop off."
"Oh, you poor thing," the woman pouted, putting a hand on his forearm. "I'm so sorry."
"Pick up isn't that bad," Simon said, chuckling nervously. He felt as though there was something he was missing when--
"How long is it since your wife passed away?" The woman asked, her words dripping with barely contained glee.
Oh.
He understood now.
Though he technically swung both ways, it had been years since Simon had been so blatantly been hit on by a woman. This was most likely due to the fact that he was lucky enough to have a life that only contained what brought him joy, and seeing as that list blissfully, happily, and staunchly contained not a single heteronormative thing, he hadn't been exposed to the sorts of situations that would easily facilitate a woman hitting on him--or mistaking him for straight.
That second part was usually owed to--
"Si!"
--speak of the devil.
"Ant," he said, turning to face his husband with a relived smile on his face. "Hello, love."
They shared a quick peck on the lips before Anthony turned to the blonde woman standing next to Simon, her jaw dropped.
"Hello, Cressida," Anthony said, a thin smile on gracing his lips. "I see you've finally meet my partner, Simon."
"Oh--um, yes," she said, hastily affixing her face with a fake little smile. "Your partner! Yes. I--sorry. I must have--"
"Misunderstood?" Anthony asked. "Yes, I suppose you must have. Now if you'll excuse us, I think I see our daughter."
Simon offered her a little wave of goodbye as Anthony tugged his hand, pulling him closer to the entrance of the school.
"Annoying woman," Anthony muttered, rolling his eyes. "Keeps asking me the most pointed questions about my wife every pick up."
"And you never corrected her?" Simon asked, laughing.
"Well, at first I didn't catch on," Anthony said. "And I'm rather used to using gender neutral pronouns, so I don't think she caught on either, daft as she is. But I sussed it out last week, and then you offered to come to pick up today and--"
"You got to fix it in the most obvious way possible," Simon said.
"Exactly," Anthony said, turning to him with a smile. Simon felt his husband's fingers tug at his shirt, needy little thing that he was, but he was happy to oblige, bending down slightly to press his lips against his when--
"DADDIES!"
The shriek caught both of their attention, the two of them turning around and barely having time to react before a pair of arms grabbed their legs, holding on tight.
"You're both here," Amelia said, her voice mildly muffled as her face was pressed firmly against Anthony's pants. "Daddy said it in the car but I didn't believe him, you're here you're here--"
The rest was lost in laughter as Simon picked her up, swinging her around. At five, she might have been getting a little too old, but heaven help the person that tried to tell her fathers that.
Anthony gamely swung her little backpack over his own shoulder, pressing kisses to her cheeks in hello, as Simon tightened his arms around their daughter, pressing his nose against her hair and breathing in her familiar scent, all sweetness and joy.
"Stop," she giggled, swatting at him lightly. "Your face is scratchy."
"I'm ever so sorry, Miss Amelia Bedelia," Simon nuzzled her nose lightly. "Will you forgive me?"
"Maybe," she said, putting a hand on either side of his face and squeezing lightly. Amelia called him Squishy Cheek Daddy when the mood struck her. "Maybe if we can get ice cream..."
Anthony let out a laugh as Simon scoffed in surprise.
"You had ice cream for dessert last night!" He said, raising his brow.
Their daughter gave him a look.
"Come on, Bridgerton," His husband said, tugging on his arm. "I think our little girl deserves some ice cream, don't you? She's clearly had a very long day."
"Yes," Amelia nodded sagely. "I have."
Well, there was little else to say to that, what with Amelia's wide, gray eyes looking at him pleadingly, and his husband's gentle hand through tucked through his.
