Choosing the Worst Chosen One

tension

notes:
*contains some strong self-doubt, may be triggering for some audiences*
let me know if there are any concerns!

- - -
Simon's POV

It's a lazy Saturday, and Penelope, Baz and I have the day off, which means we've trudged through chore after chore all morning. Penny's cleaned the bathrooms and the living room, I've got laundry and vacuum duty, and Baz decided he wants to work on the dishes that have been piling up all week (I told him not to, it's not his responsibility; Penny told him he's welcome over any time so long as he does them).

Penny is reading at the table and Baz is at the sink when I walk into the kitchen. It's not a part of my chore for the week, but the counters are sticky from dinner last night so I grab a rag and walk to stand next to Baz. He's in the pink apron he's claimed as his own, soap suds up to his elbows. I smile up at him, and he smirks, kisses my forehead, and continues to rinse a plate. The light coming in through the window above us sends shadows across Baz's sharp features, and his eyes are cast down, dark and warm. He's wearing a black tee, the muscles in his back and chest defined in the snug shirt. There's a patch of exposed, pale skin just inches from my reach, smooth and deliciously untouched, and bloody hell do I want to touch him, run my fingers over his skin and up his toned abdomen, and down down down-

I quickly turn my head away, scrubbing the counters viciously. My chest feels tight and the air is thick. I swallow stiffly. Heat is radiating off of his body, calling me closer like a web of want and desire. Has he always looked this good? Maybe I just haven't noticed it till now, but by Merlin am I noticing it now. The way his hair falls seductively over his eyes, the way the muscles in his arms push and pull under his gorgeous skin, the slight sway of his jean-clad hips, and maybe it's the way he's gripping that cup or the way he's handling that sponge but I'm suddenly very jealous of the silverware lined up to be washed next-

"Would you two knock it off already?"

I turn to see Penelope, her book in her hands. She's got a look in her eyes, like she's mildly disgusted; her eyebrows are scrunched together, her glasses falling off the tip of her button nose.

"What?" I ask.

"You're both blokes,"

"Jee, thanks Bunce," Baz retorts from the sink. I slip a glance at him and soak up this image of perfection, his narrow waist and defined hip bones, his washboard stomach and toned back-

"You're welcome," she deadpans. "But seriously, you two have been giving the other the eye for the last fifteen minutes and it's making me uncomfortable."

"What?" I ask again, wide eyed.

"Well for starters, you've been staring at Baz's arse while scrubbing the same spot on the counter since you came in here." I start coughing up a fit, the blood rushing to my face. Shut up shut up shut up- "Looking at him when he's not looking, watching him wash dishes. Merlin, you are unbelievable."

Baz is holding back hysteria and failing miserably, staring at me with amusement in his eyes. 

"Pennyyyy" I whine, pouting.

"I don't blame you, Snow, really it's quite flattering-"

"And you are no better!" Penny adds with an accusatory finger pointed at Baz. "Swooning over Simon whenever his back is turned with those puppy eyes, really, the two of you! Stealing secret glances and drooling over each other like you aren't already together or whatever the hell this is. I mean really, just sleep together already," she gestures at us. "God, you guys piss me off." And with that, she storms off to her room, forgetting her book on the table.