Fluffy Simbaz Drabbles

Definite Plotting

Simon

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Often times, I hated being shorter than Baz.

Yes, we were now "boyfriends" and "in love" and "made out with each other almost every night" but he never lost that little spark of mischeif in him. And dammit, he even kept his same, plotting little smirk!

I was convinced he was plotting today.

He didn't have his shirt on. All day! Usually, he was fully dressed by the time I woke up (if he woke up earlier.) And yeah, I totally caught on to his "oh no I'm so hot" gig (although I would never call him on that) but this plotting must've been different.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I was crouched in the fridge cabinet, watching for any more suspicious signs. So far, the only other weird thing Baz did was eat one of my scones.

I checked my phone. It was a text from Penny.

Penny: Where are you?

Me: Hiding.

Penny: Shit. Why?

Me: Baz is plotting.

Penny: (facepalm emoji)X10

Penny: Not again...

Me: What!! He had his shirt off all morning!

Penny: ...

Me: What

Penny: Maybe he's not plotting what you think he's plotting.

Me: Um he's obviously plotting my down fall

Me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Penny: He's not trying to get you to do...something else?

Me: What would that be?

Penny: Yeah, I'll let you figure that out yourself. Later, dumbo.

I frowned at my phone. Penny didn't believe my very plausible explanations.

Rustling in the kitchen. I hurried to the crack between the cabinet door and the cabinet. Baz's black hair swayed back and forth as he put his empty cereal bowl into the sink. Still shirtless!

Definitely plotting.

Abruptly, he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Snow, I know you're in the cabinet. Would you please come out?" He gave a stern look to the cabinet.

"I'm not in here." Baz sighed again.

"Snow."

I didn't answer.

"Snoow," he sung.

I still didn't answer. I would not give into his ruthless plotting.

With a final groan, he said "Simon."

"Simon says you're plotting."

Baz gave another annoyed look to the cabinet.

"You know what cabinet, I've had quite enough of you!" Grabbing on corner of the fridge, Baz pulled himself up, setting another foot onto the counter. And he was in boxers.

(Plotting!)

Slender fingers wrapped around the cabinet door before opening. The one and only beautiful Baz looked up at Simon.

"Sweetheart," Baz said giving that plotting smile. "Why don't you come down from the cabinet."

I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest and laying my legs out in a casual position.

"Make me," I asked, going to lean in a casual position. Suddenly, my butt was sliding from under and I almost crashed down onto the kitchen floor.

"Simon!" Baz yelped grabbing me with one arm. His arm tightly gripped my waist, keeping me from accidently killing myself via kitchen tiles.

Baz slowly lowered me down onto the floor until I was safe to plop down. (A stage in his plot.)

He jumped off the counter, chest muscles flexing in the process. (Plot.)

I had to come up with an idea to stop this madness!

What always got Baz weak in the knees?

I couldn't run off and put my heels back on. My shirtless thing didn't work as well as his. He wasn't convinced as easily by food. But...

I turned to stand towards him. I slung my arm around his neck, leaning in to kiss him. Slowly, our lips were almost close to touching...

My right arm hooked around Baz's neck as I brought him around in a perfect headlock. His arms flailed as he tried to look at me.

"Simon," he asked. "What the fu-"

"Ask no more," I answered, tightnening my grip.

"Tyranny-something Basilton Grimm-Pitch, I have successfully foiled your plot!"

Baz just groaned. 

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