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"Baz?"
"Hm?" I look up from my book and over to where Simon is sat at the opposite end of the sofa, my feet in his lap. He's got that quizzical expression on his face as he thumbs his phone, the one that means he's about to come out with something bizarre he's just read online.
"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"
Yep. There it is.
I go back to my book, frowning to hide my fondness for him. "What kind of worm?" I would put money on him not knowing there are different types of worm.
His blank look confirms my suspicions. Befuddling him shouldn't still be this fun. He just makes it so easy sometimes.
"Slow worm? Earth worm?" I continue, still feigning reading my book. "Did I know you before you were a worm, or are we meeting for the first time?"
"Baz!" He throws his hands up in the air, his phone falling off his lap onto the rug.
"What?" I remain studious. "What are the perametres of this hypothetical?"
He flops his arms back down with an exasperated huff. "Urgh, you're supposed to say 'yes darling, of course I would still love you if you were a worm'."
"Yes darling, of course—"
"—well it doesn't work now!" He snaps a bit too sharply. I look up properly and the red across his cheeks catches my attention.
I raise an incredulous eye brow. "Are you actually angry with me right now?"
"No!" He says, angrily.
I meet his exasperation with my own."Simon."
"Basil." Well fuck, if he's Basil-ing me this must be serious.
I close my book with a sigh, flattening my hands atop its cover as I give Simon my full focus. "You know I love you." It's not the first time he's needed this reassurance. (Though it is definitely the first time worms have been involved.) "I loved you when you hated me. I loved you when you were the Mage's heir, when you were being raised to literally kill me and my whole family." Arguably I had terrible taste back then. "I loved you when you broke my nose, and when you put a bloody polecat in my wardrobe." It's ridiculous how recounting this is making me smile. I've gone from tired patience, to ridiculous fondness, and now I'm sliding quickly into sincerity. "I loved you before it even occurred to you to love a boy. I've only ever loved you. Are you really, truly questioning that?"
Simon looks abashed, chewing his lip as he frowns down at my feet still in his lap. "..Well.. no.." His hand has found my right ankle and I can feel his calloused thumb gently running over the fine bones of it, sending a pleasant shiver up my leg. "It's just.. that's not the game, is it." He huffs at whatever my face is doing when he glances at me, but there's a smile at the corner of his mouth. "I thought you'd say 'yes, I'd know immediately it was you and not any other worm, and I'd make you a lovely little home in a jam jar and take you everywhere with me and feed you the best lettuce—'"
I can't help myself. "That's snails. Worms don't eat leaves, they eat soil."
"Urgh, you're terrible at this!" (He's wrong. I'm excellent at antagonising him.) He pushes one of my feet off his lap in exasperation.
"I rather thought I was better at it than you." I remove my other foot before that too can be pushed away. "You didn't even know there were different types of worm to begin with."
"Uuurrgh," Simon's lament is practically a growl. He tilts his head back and I get a wonderful view of his adams apple. "Why do you even know this shit?"
I place my book on the coffee table. "Gardening. They're good for the soil."
He doesn't have an answer to that. When I look back at him, Simon's jaw is set, chin forward and muscles clenching as he slumps into the sofa, glaring at our living room ceiling like the artex swirls have personally wronged him.
It's possible I've taken this too far. I forget sometimes how vulnerable Simon can be. He's so stubborn and strong and ruthless. He's fought dragons and vampires, and some of the most powerful mages we've ever known. Nothing logical seems to scare him, and we've thrown so many insults at each other over the years it still catches me off guard when he doesn't give as good as he gets.
He's right. I am terrible at this.
"You know, wyrm with a y in it is another word for dragon. And you are part dragon." I scoot closer to him, folding one leg under myself so I can face him, propping my elbow on the back of the sofa and resting my chin in my hand. Simon is still frowning, but his gaze slides towards me. "So technically you are a wrym. And I do still love you."
Blue eyes meet mine and everything in me melts. "Oh," he says quietly. "You should've lead with that."
I smile as I lean closer. "I will next time."
I put my best apology into a kiss, gently sliding a hand into Simon's hair, cupping the back of his head as he circles his arm around my waist. My other hand trails across his chest. I rest my palm over his heart and he lays his hand atop it.
We don't pull apart when the kiss ends. I press my forehead to his as we catch our breath.
"What about you?" I ask, a soft smile lingering on my lips as they tingle with his warmth.
I feel the slight scrunch of Simon's brow. "Me what?"
"Would you still love me, were I a worm?" I ask in a wistful tone.
Simon grins. "No. Worms are gross."
I give an offended scoff and he bursts out laughing. The playing field is levelled and once more we're on an equal footing. I can't keep up the pretence of outrage in the face of Simon's delight, and when I snort he cackles louder. We end up in a messy tangle of limbs and cushions as Simon wrestles me into a lying position on the sofa. My book gets knocked off the coffee table. It joins Simon's phone on the floor. They remain there for the rest of the afternoon.