Sidemen Shots

Security - Minishaw (Part 10)

They continue driving after that, the car temporarily enshrouded by the silence of a couple yet to be (doomed to not be). Eventually, Simon hypes himself up enough to break it, his voice nearly catching in his throat due to his nerves.

"How did you get my car any way? You need a key to even get into the estate, let alone get the car to start."

Harry doesn't respond initially, internally freaking Simon out as he waits impatiently for any form of a response, feeling near enough desperate.

"You know that one time I got really drunk and you called me a taxi from that party?" Harry doesn't look towards Simon, though he does leave a short space for Simon to nod his assent. "You wanted to stay longer so you told the driver to take me to your flat because mine was being renovated and you gave me your keys." Simon does remember that, it was late last year, just a couple weeks before the Christmas and New Years parties started amongst their extended friend group.

"Well, I may or may not have made him stop along the way so I could get copies of all of your keys cut."

Genuinely, just... what. Simon, at this point in life (brought on mostly by all the figurative destruction he has caused by not doing so sooner) can admit that he is most confidently, wholeheartedly in love with Harry. Has been for a long time now: multiple years at the very least, but maybe has been ever since he met Harry. Just a little bit. He's accidentally tumbled down the rabbit hole since then. Sometimes he doesn't - it's not quite regret, but there's definitely something there whenever Harry does something unusual to this sort of extent. Drunkenly making copies of Simon's keys...? Before the seed of their relationship had actually even been planted and all. 

"What. The. Fuck." It takes all of Simon's focus not to look away from the road, to not give Harry his undivided attention as he is so accustomed to and fond of doing. "I literally tipped the taxi driver and told him not to listen to anything you said to him. I ordered him not to stop at any point and to get you straight there."

Surely, Simon should surely be feeling a stronger emotion about this situation than his current bewilderment. He should be angry at the very least, and yet his mind is drawing up blanks whenever his conscious mind calls to the feeling, begging in an attempt to lure the ugly creature to the surface alongside his abject apprehension and anxiety that he tries to keep buried deep. (Unfortunately, he all too often fails at that, however.)

Simon's not the biggest know-it-all when it comes to legal technicalities, but he does remember the owner of his estate spouting something about patent protection, as well as can recognise the fact that any normal, half-moral person would identify such an action as wrong. At the very least - if it isn't already - getting copies of keys made without the owner's permission should definitely be illegal. Especially in this day and age.

(He would, could, never wish for Harry to go to prison, though. Wouldn't be able to stomach the separation, nor would he be able to live with himself if he ends up the reason Harry could get sent away. Even if technically it would be Harry's fault, considering the younger man is the one who made the, albeit drunken, decision to commit such an immoral activity.)

"How did you get him to make a stop for you?" Simon asks as he makes a turn, facing the opposite way from Harry as he looks to his left whilst doing so. He misses the glance Harry shoots him out of the corner of his eyes, as well as the glistening sentimentality in said eyes. He narrowly misses some maniac speeding down the other lane, cursing to himself at his luck.

Harry shrugs. "Pretty privilege, I guess."

And, well, Simon can't argue with that. Harry is pretty, his fans and their edits all proof of that statement. His attractiveness is, admittedly, a likely contributor to his cancel culture immunity.

"Makes sense."

As he makes another turn, right this time, he practically misses the miniature grin that tugs at the corners of Harry's lips. All he catches is the tail-end twitch of it, mistaking the movement for the grimace it isn't. It doesn't extinguish his hopes completely, but it does cause his stress to skyrocket.

They have about five minutes left of their journey. Simon mourns that fact as the car's occupants, and therefore the car's atmosphere, once again descend into stilted quietude.

"I think you're really pretty!" Simon suddenly blurts out a minute and a half later, momentarily shocking Harry before he recovers from the combined shock of the spoken words and the way they are simply catapulted out into the now cracked silence.

"Thanks."

A beat. Then two, three, almost four-

"I think you're pretty, too."

The comment is neither enthusiastic nor overly kind in tone, but who cares. A person who doesn't celebrate the small wins in life is arguably pathetic, and in Simon's opinion has no right to celebrate the big wins, either.

"So..." Simon awkwardly picks up the abandoned conversation again, loosing his peer-acclaimed intelligence as he continues the previously heavy conversation with as little as three minutes left of the drive home. "Back to the part about you getting copies of my keys cut last year, you little freak."

The 'little freak' bit just slips out unintentionally, but Harry fortunately doesn't berate him for the misstep. It may have actually been a smart 'decision', in the end, beneficial to restoring their relationship back to what it had been before (and more). Simon has to do everything in his power to help him before he gets the chance to properly utilise this chance to make up for his lapse in behavioural judgement the other day.

"Oh, would you look at that," Harry replies, exaggeratedly looking out of the window rather than looking at Simon and keeping on track with the conversation. "We're already at the gates! Oh well, looks like this conversation will have to come to a premature end. If only we could continue it."

Shaking his head with a faint smile, Simon rolls down his window and leans over to press his his fob to the stand. The wrought iron gates swing open with a slow sense of majesty, inevitably inflating the egos of the tenants whenever it does so. He drives through the opened space slowly, letting out a huff of amusement as Harry turns around in his seat to watch the gates glide shut behind them. He shakes his head at the words the man says next.

"We're basically at your flat already - 's a shame 'bout that conversation though."

Thirty seconds later, they are indeed basically at Simon's flat. There was a reason he chose to rent a flat in the building closest to the entrance, and that was his laziness, he'll admit. The furthest building was about a seven to ten minute walk from the pedestrian gate, depending on your walking speed. (Him and Ethan had thoroughly investigated the matter not long after he first moved in.)

With all the practice of a perfectionist, Simon confidently manoeuvres into his flat's designated parking space, stopping the engine and only climbing out once Harry has left the passenger seat.

"Lead the way then, Mr. Criminal. Use your fraudulent keys to let yourself in." 

Simon follows behind Harry, chuckling to himself after he makes Harry huff and roll his eyes (playfully with an edge of sincere, minor irritation). Harry does as he says and buzzes them in, then unlocks the door after they climb the stairs up to Simon's flat. The decision to take the stairs rather than ride up in the lift is the reminder Simon needs to confirm that he's definitely not off the hook just yet.

He inhales a deep breath as he walks through the entryway after Harry, mentally preparing himself to bring out all the stops and lay himself bare for Harry.

This is it, this is his chance to win Harry back once and for all.

Hopefully, Simon won't mess it up like he always tends to.