If You Must

All That We Are Is Unlucky

Simon

Baz is working at the buttons of my shirt, still kissing me (eternally kissing me) when he murmurs distractedly,

"You know, it's bad luck for us to see each other in our suits before the wedding." I push my fingers more roughly into his hair.

"Bring it on," I reply vaguely, too busy concentrating on the funny tickle of his breath on the base of my nose to care at the moment.

Baz drags his lips down my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

"If Bunce knew, she'd have a conniption fit," he says.

"That's nice, dear," I breathe, gripping his face in my hands and bringing his lips back up to mine. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"What I'm trying to say, Simon," Baz breaks his mouth away from mine again, settling his lips on a point just below my ear, "Is we should avoid bad luck." I slide the suit jacket off his shoulders, placing it on the table behind me.

"By...?" I'm still only half-listening to him. Honestly, a rhinoceros could stampede through our flat right now and as long as Baz keeps kissing me like he is, I wouldn't give a damn.

"Well," His hands are in my hair and it's driving me wild, "I was thinking we should probably take off the suits. To avoid bad luck, of course."

I let off a breathy giggle that doesn't even sound like a noise I'm capable of making. I'm definitely listening now.

"Good plan, Baz. Bad luck be damned."

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Author's note:

Sorry, I just watched Fight Club and so my mind's in the gutter. In other news, while I'm really quite shit at drawing/designing clothing and have no interest in it whatsoever, I wanted to give you all at least a vague idea of what Si and Baz's suits look like, so here they are:

-Lefty