It is somehow Sunday! Not a huge fan of how that keeps coming around, so I'm numbing the pain of the passage of time with fanfiction.
Specifically Musical Chairs. (And for those who've been reading along, it might help to know that Baz is not at the table here.)
And Simon couldn’t—wouldn’t—shouldn’t look up again, but his eyes drifted just high enough to see that perfect fucking mouth fixed in another smirk. Simon stared at it, and then he made a desperate sound at the back of his throat and turned to Agatha. “My mouth is literally watering right now, are you kidding me?” “Sounds like a you problem.” “I don’t think you understand.” “How it is you haven’t changed your tune to wanting to punch him in his punchable face?” Agatha said breezily, swirling her drink. “No, I do not understand.” “I’m salivating, Agatha,” Simon explained. “There’s extra saliva in my mouth because I’m looking at him.” “It’s quiet time now.”
We're nearly there y'all, nearly there. Just a few sections to connect and a couple more to fill out. Also my silly little timecode headers to solidify, which are currently looking like this:
Tags! Hellos! I love yous! Beneath the cut!