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“And then he’s like, ‘the witness has buckwheat allergy!’” Athena exclaimed in her best impersonalization of Prosecutor Shahmandhi, while also openly mocking the guy. It wasn’t particularly good acting, but it wasn’t like Athena attempted to impress the public with her performance, simply letting out some steam in front of somebody who was both easily impressed and more than willing to listen to her babbling.
“That new prosecutor really does sound awful!” Fool Bright agreed, inhaling sharply, as his lips pursed in an expression of honest sympathy with the girl’s struggles.
Athena nodded and slurped on her soba, her eyes closing in what Simon knew full well was delight. (Because, really, what other reaction anybody could even have to the best soba in town?) “The worst prosecutor to go against!” she agreed.
Simon huffed at that. “If you ask me, the Sad Monk was way too nice, actually. Probably taking pity on your lack of experience,” he smirked, before sending some noodles into his own mouth.
Athena made a face as she stared at him, but didn’t say anything. She really didn’t need to, because Widget was more than willing to provide helpful commentary. “He's the second worst prosecutor!" it chirped from Athena’s neck, although it only served to amuse Simon.
Fool Bright looked at their interaction from his spot at the table, then sighed dramatically. “I wish I could've been there,” he confesses, staring sadly at his own meal. As if on its own accord, his hand reached down, landing onto his tucked near a sitting cushion leg, touching a small ankle bracelet Simon knew was placed on him under the fabric of his pants. Then he looked back up, and his sour expression disappeared. “I’m sure seven years are going to fly by!” he laughed.
Seven years. Talk about poetic justice, Simon thought. Yet, it was exactly the plea deal he and Athena drafted together with the Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth after the infamous international spy provided his complete cooperation and assistance in bringing down a dangerous terrorist organization, saving countless lives in the process. After they managed to prove his every past crime was committed under extreme duress and conditioning that began since early childhood, after discovering the real connection Athena and her mother had to the entire mess.
“Besides, I’m sure Mr. Edgeworth is going to implement that community service part any day now, so they will let you out... here,” Athena added, trying to sound cheerful, yet her voice lost all the enthusiasm as she looked around the place.
After the plea deal was approved by the judge, the chief prosecutor politely asked to vacate the bunker under the state prison that served as both their base of operation and a temporary place of living. Now they relocated into the same old apartment the Phantom had rented after moving to the city at the very start of his mission when he only began impersonating Detective Fulbright. Of course, several months prior, it was blown up by another deserted member of their terrorist organization in a bizarre attempt to establish contact, but as there was absolutely no structural damage from the explosion, it wasn’t a lot of work to renovate. Still, most of Fool Bright’s mundane belongings were destroyed, and all of the furniture had to be thrown away.
They replaced what they could, got new carpets and a cozy kotatsu table which Athena had convinced Simon to obtain last winter when he was still living in the prison’s basement, guarding the Phantom day and night. A new bed was also something they couldn’t stay here without, but the rest of the place was completely desolate, boxes of work related documents and some items of clothing stacked in the furthest corner of the living room.
At least Taka’s favorite chair somehow managed to survive. It was charred a little on the side, but Simon’s friend had refused to let anyone throw the thing away and was now perched on it in the bedroom.
“...you two really need to get more furniture. Maybe a plant or something?” she added.
“Perhaps, if somebody ceased asking me for free food, we’d have more money,” Simon reminded pointedly, making Athena’s shoulders droop. There was no real malice to his words and he knew she could hear that, but it was amusing to poke a little fun at her.
“You know, Bucky is such a good friend of yours, and we just cleared his name of murder charges, he could’ve given us some soba for free,” Athena pointed out, carelessly swinging her chopstick in the air.
“Bucky?” Fool Bright perked up from his spot again, looking at Athena with curiosity, turning perhaps a little tense at the same time.
In retrospect, Simon probably had to see it coming. Had to consider the possibility that somebody who only now opened up to experiencing normal human emotions and still had a lot of trouble navigating through them was going to eventually face something both unpleasant and unfamiliar and don’t know how to properly handle it. But at this precise moment in time, Simon didn’t take it under any amount of consideration, interpreting Fool Bright’s reaction as nothing more but mere curiosity of somebody who wasn't present as the events unfolded.
“Oh yeh, the soba restaurant guy we defended,” Athena confirmed. “Did I forget to mention his name? The guy had known Simon’s since even before he went to jail, even has a cutesy nickname for him. Simey. Surely some kind of discount was in order!”
Fool Bright went completely still at the information, his eyes dropping down at his plate of mostly finished by now soba, staring at it with distrust. “Oh,” was the only thing he managed to say.
To her credit, Athena sensed something right away, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Fool Bright, her excitement faltering. She didn’t ask what was bothering him, or whether or not he was ok, deciding to simply switch the topic. “I need to thank you as well, by the way,” she said. “I’ve read so much about dissociative identity disorder that I was actually able to recognize it this time.”
It distracted Fool Bright enough that for the time being his sour expression disappeared. “Because you thought I had one?” he asked.
“Exactly!” Athena confirmed.
They talked about the case for a little longer, while finishing the dinner. Or more precisely, Athena was the one doing most of the talking, with Simon interjecting into her retellings from time to time with teasing commentary to keep the girl on her toes. Fool Bright remained almost completely silent for the rest of the evening, just listening to their banter. He didn’t finish his soba either, placing his chopsticks over the plate instead, looking distracted. And while Simon noticed that change in his demeanor, he wasn’t going to bring it up just yet.
Only as Athena had said her goodbyes and left their apartment, the newly replaced door locking behind her, Simon turned around, staring at Fool Bright with the level of intensity he knew was going to work on him, “Alright, what pile of steaming dung has stuck to your shoes now?” he asked, as he turned to the man, crossing his arms.
The fool had practically flinched at the question. It almost seemed like he was about to lie, to put up the well-rehearsed smile, but changed his mind at the last moment, looking away instead. “That Bucky guy, why does he have a nickname for you?” he said instead, pouting visibly, his cheeks turning a shade redder.
That made Simon blink, and he all but gaped at the question. Not at the content of it per-se, but rather at the implication. The idea of it was so absurd that he suddenly wanted to sit down, which made him regret they really hadn’t had time to obtain a new couch. “My-my, Fool Bright, is it jealousy I hear from you?” he smirked instead. “And over what exactly, a lad who barely passed his teens? Believe me, his soba and a good story to accompany a meal is my only interest from that relationship.”
He hoped that was going to reassure Fool Bright. Because it was the best reassurance he could give. For a moment he was sure his attempt was a failure, because Fool Bright’s expression turned blank, and he was suddenly the Phantom again, a man capable of switching his feelings completely off. Then something shifted in him and a large smile appeared on his face.
“Ah, you’re quite right,” he said cheerfully. “I’m glad your friend was found innocent! No matter which side you take, I’m happy you serve as justice’s true champion!”
Simon sighed, then his eyes fell from Fool Bright’s face to the unwanted soba on the table. “Are you going to finish that?” he asked.
Blinking rapidly three times, Fool Bright shook his head. “N-no, I seem to have lost appetite,” he replied.
“Great,” Simon hummed, then approached the kotatsu, settling himself suddenly onto Fool Bright’s lap. “Then I will finish it for you,” he chuckled.
If Fool Bright had any objections to that, he didn’t voice them.
***
It was honestly a little too good to be true for the entire topic of Bucky to be forgotten like Simon hoped. Not that Fool Bright brought it up a single time in the next three days, but he was walking around the three rooms of their now shared living place, looking like a kicked puppy, closing off immediately every time Simon was attempting to bring it up.
Simon didn’t like seeing him like that, but neither he was willing to give up his favorite food joint, because that would only set a precedent for each consecutive issue they are going to face as a couple and will make things worse for both on the long run.
He could, however, attempt cheering him up by getting a good chunk of steak he knew a meat lover like Fool Bright was going to enjoy, even if it was a little expensive. For that exact purpose, despite running rather late as he was returning home from work, Simon stopped by a grocery store a few bus stops away from the apartment complex.
“Prosecutor Blackquill!” he suddenly heard as he was standing in line to pay for his purchase, and as he turned around, he immediately spotted a familiar face of Officer Meekins, whom Edgeworth assigned as current supervisor for the Phantom’s case.
If Simon had to ever name a person whom he considered the biggest dullard in the entirety of the police force, Meekings would easily take the first spot. It wasn’t even that the guy was stupid per se, simply too eager and enthusiastic, while almost inhumanly clumsy. His clumsiness, however, was enough for him to be demoted to bailiff at one point. He served in the courtroom for years, managing to misplace an unreasonable amount of evidence in the process, before the chief prosecutor found a new spot for the guy.
Why Edgeworth ever thought it was a good idea, Simon could never know for sure, but suspected it was merely a formality. Simon himself was not able to be legally in charge of rehabilitating the ex-spy due to conflict of interests. He was still doing most of the real work of course, but this way he could no longer get in trouble for their more interpersonal relations. Meekins meanwhile had to only visit them from time to time and fill out some basic paperwork after each such visit, so perhaps there was a merit to Edgeworth’s logic.
It took Simon a moment to remember what date it was and realize Meekins was likely returning from one such visit. “Hey,” he greeted unenthusiastically.
Realizing Simon noticed him, Meekins straightened up, his arm almost flying upwards to salute, yet he stopped himself. That was a good thing, because less than anything Simon wished to attract unwanted attention in the middle of a grocery store. “Fancy to run into you here, Prosecutor Blackquill.”
“I live nearby,” Simon reminded dully, already starting to eye the line in front of him, hoping his stern stare will prompt people to move faster.
“Right!” Meekins chuckled, bonding his own forehead with his palm to accent his words. “And I just finished the visit! What a coincidence. Mr. Phantom is doing great! Staying indoors it is. Like he should. Nothing to report there!”
There were three people before Simon, and one of them just finished checking out, picking up their things from the counter and leaving the store, the line moving a step. Simon moved too, hoping to place more distance between himself and the enthusiastic police officer, even if logically it made no sense, because Meekins was supposed to move together with him. “I know that too, I live with him,” he grunted, hoping desperately that his cold, grumpy intonation was going to give Meekins a clue about his lack of desire to continue this conversation.
Which, as he expected, didn’t happen. “Hah-ha, right! You would know how Mr. Phantom is doing,” he laughed awkwardly.
The next person in the line had only a few items and managed to scan them rather quickly, but that was where Simon’s luck ended. The lady right in front of him had her basket full of food as if she was shopping for the entire month. With the speed of a tired sloth, she began carefully moving the items from the basket and onto the conveyer belt, the sight of which made Simon shudder.
“Speaking of which, we might be seeing each other more often now,” Meekins continued.
“Chuffed to bits,” Simon huffed sarcastically.
“Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth wanted to start his community service next week. Plans to assign him to a police department for investigative work. Apparently, we are a little short on detectives.”
That immediately peeked Simon’s attention. “Really?” he surprised.
If Meekins wasn’t confusing anything again, that was truly great news. Surely, the work Fool Bright was going to be doing for the police was going to be unpaid, and they most definitely were not going to be assigned to the same case for obvious reasons. Still, it was levels above picking trash in the parks and could become a great opportunity for Fool Bright to have a place of more permanent employment after serving his sentence. Not to mention he turned to be much more capable at investigative work after stopping posing as somebody he wasn’t, if the several months they‘d spent tracking down the people who’d sent him together was any indication.
“Have you told him that?” Simon grinned, feeling suddenly excited. They could celebrate tonight, cook the meat he just bought. Perhaps, he needed to move out of the line and look for something to drink, too? A really nice bottle of sake or plum wine?
Meekins opened his mouth, but then closed it again, his eyes going wider. “Oh no!” he gasped in exclamation. “I completely forgot!”
At this point Simon didn’t even feel like poking fun at the guy, his mood only improving at the thought he could be the one delivering the news. “That’s fine,” he smirked. “I’ll let him know.”
***
Simon had taken even longer trying to pick a beverage for them tonight. Generally, he wasn’t an avid drinker, but he and Fool Bright had shared a drink in the past, and Simon managed to find the exact type of plum shochu, so he had absolutely no doubt the evening was going to be good.
It was past ten when he finally reached their apartment complex, and everything around was quiet, the children's playground near the building empty even while brightly lit by street lamps. Most of the windows in the apartment complex itself were lit, people living there returning home long before Simon, yet not yet even considering going to bed. His own window was dark, however, and it made Simon pause, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
It was probably nothing. Surely, there could’ve been people wishing the Phantom dead, but there was no way they could’ve showed up here in the short span between Meekins’ departure and Simon's arrival. Even if they did, Simon had seen Fool Bright fight, he couldn’t have been taken down easily. More than likely, he decided to go to bed early, and tomorrow Simon could tease him for being an old man, (despite neither of them managing to find out how old the ex-spy actually was.)
There were no traces of breaking and entering at the door either, the lock seeming as shiny and pristine as the day it was reinstalled last month, Simon’s key sliding into it with ease. Nor were there signs of struggle in the entryway as Simon switched the lights on. It was the opposite, in fact, the place looked nicer than before with them purchasing a new cabinet for the room that served both as a coat rack and a shoe storage. Fool Bright tidied the foyer while Simon was at work, setting up some of their belongings in their proper locations.
There was nobody in the living room as Simon walked further into the apartment, nobody in the kitchen as he stopped by to deposit the contents of the grocery bags into the fridge. By the time Simon reached the bedroom, his heart was thumping so loudly in his chest, he was starting to become nauseous from his worry.
“Fool Bright!” he called loudly, realizing the man wasn’t in the bedroom either, receiving absolutely no response.
And then his eyes fell onto a cardboard box that temporarily served as a nightstand on Fool Bright’s side of the bed, his entire world coming into sharp focus on the few objects that sat on its surface. The small black GPS anklet was sitting on the box near the watch which Simon knew housed the Spy’s personal AI assistant Seven, both devices beeping at each-other in quiet unison. Near them was a note, which Simon picked with a shaky hand, reading it several times over to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks, his heart sinking even further.
“The last several days were unbearable and none of my emotions or my feelings about your friend make sense. I can’t suppress them as before, so I don’t think I can continue without first dealing with this matter. I know you wouldn’t allow me to do what needs to be done, so I’m sorry about this. Your Fool Bright.”
The note fell from Simon’s hand, his eyes going wide, a broken sob tearing from his chest. No, this couldn't have been real, couldn't have been happening. After everything they went though, after all that they’ve built together...
Bucky!
Spinning on his heel, Simon rushed out of the apartment, almost falling over as he tumbled with his boots. He nearly fell over again as he was rushing down the staircase from the second floor trying to skip several stairs at once. A group of stray cats youwled, jumping in every direction as he cut his way through the bushes back towards the main road, a bowl of cat food Ms. Sterling from the floor below them was leaving out for the strays overthrowing in the dead of the night.
“Whet Soba!” Simon announced immediately upon opening the door to a taxi cab. Given the timeline of Meekins departure, Fool Bright couldn't have gotten that big of a head start. Simon still had a chance of stopping him from doing whatever the bloody hell he was planning to do. “As fast as you possibly can!”
The trip was dragging out despite Simon’ best effort to speed things up. His groans of annoyance and tapping of his food on the bottom of the cab did absolutely nothing to arrive at his destination faster. And even a few choice words he had for the evening traffic weren’t able to clear it, nor prevent the lights from turning red on them.
Unable to waste any more time on counting the bills, he had no other choice but to drop way more money onto the driver’s lap than the trip was worth, but then he was finally, finally out of the car and running towards the restaurant’s entrance.
It was just barely past the closing time, and there were absolutely no customers inside as he swung the doors open. The light in the kitchen area was on, however, the sounds of quiet commotion reaching his ears.
“No, stop it, please!” he heard Bucky’s plea and ran into the kitchen. And then immediately stopped in his tracks in utter shock, his eyes falling onto the Fool Bright’s figure, an enormous knife in the man’s hand. “I can’t watch you butchering the dough like this. It’s like you’re trying to murder somebody and not cut noodles!” Bucky complained, taking the knife away from Fool Bright and starting to demonstrate the process. “Look, like this, light movements of the wrist.”
“Oh, like we’re trying to slice somebody’s veins rather than open up the chest cavity,” Fool Bright replied, watching Bucky intently and nodding in understanding.
“Well, it’s a really weird way to put it, but... Oh, hey Simey!”
Both men stood over a large kitchen table, which was covered in flour. There was some of it on the men themselves, with Bucky seeming to be the cleaner one out of the pair, his apron collecting the most of the mess. Fool Bright was a completely different story. The front of his red shirt was completely dusted, as well as there was some of it on his face and even in his hair. How somebody could end up so dirty in the kitchen was beyond Simon’s understanding, moreover somebody as nimble as the ex-spy.
There was a sheet of rolled dough between them, half of it already cut into noodles. Some of it looked great, even in its thinness, while the other part was chunky and thicker than Italian fettuccine.
“What in tarnation is going on here?!” Simon growled in anger
Startled by Simon’s arrival, both men raised their eyes, looking at him in surprise. Bucky seemed cheerful and excited, while Fool Bright hurried to avert his gaze, seeming somehow smaller now, almost ashamed.
“Why, we’re making soba, of course!” Bucky replied. “I’m sorta bummed out you’ve never told me you had a boyfriend! I’d be so happy for ya!”
Simon stared, his gaze moving from Fool Bright to Bucky and back, the anger in him rising to a boiling level, until his entire body shook with it. In two bold strides he was in Fool Bright’s face, in one more he was pressing him against the wall. “You little snollygoster!” he snarled. “You absolute fopdoodle! You literally decided to risk everything we accomplished for this?!”
“Proscecutor Bla... Simon,” Fool Bright attempted, looking at him shocked and hurt, as if he didn’t expect this was going to be the exact reaction Simon was going to have upon learning his whereabouts. As if he didn’t consider how exactly Simon was going to be feeling.
Bucky approached him from the side, both of his flour covered hands landing on Simon’s arm. “Stop this right now, Simey, that’s an absolutely horrible way to treat somebody!” he demanded, shock written all over his own expression. “Bobby here came and begged me to teach him how to make your favorite dish, it’s the nicest thing I can ever imagine somebody doing!”
And crap, Simon’s behaviour likely looked absolutely horrible from the side, to somebody who had absolutely no idea about what actually was going on here. Like Simon was the bad guy. “He is under house arrest!” he hissed, because that seemed like a good beginning of an explanation. “If the police find out he came here, they are going to drag him to prison. This buffoon decided to shove his own noggin up his arse and has all the reason in the world to be yelled at!”
“Oh!” Bucky blinked, his hands finally dropping from Simon’s arm, leaving only white prints on the black fabric of his jacket in their stead. “That indeed might be problematic.”
“They won’t find out,” Fool Bright responded. “I managed to swap the GPS signal of my bracelet with a signal from my watch while Meekins was rebooting the thing today, so—”
“How dare you,” Simon interrupted him, turning to stare Fool Bright directly in the eyes. “How dare you claim that you trust in justice, when you ignore what the justice demands of you?” he asked, which he knew well was going to cut all and every counterargument Fool Bright could have.
It worked like a charm, better even, Fool Bright’s eyes snapping wide open. “How could’ve I let this happen?!” he gasped. “With actions like this, my justice ended up the most unjust! There’s only one solution, one thing left to do for me now. Tomorrow morning, I must turn myself in!”
“Like hell,” Simon exhaled, finally dropping his grip on Fool Bright and taking a step back. “What we are going to do is wish my friend Bucky here a good night, then we are going to go home, put the bracelet back on your foot and pretend this never happened.”
“That...” Fool bright began, his arms jumping up as if by their own accord.
“...that would ruin this batch of soba,” Bucky signed pitifully.
Simon straightened his back, his stomach reminding him suddenly that it was rather late at night, and he still hadn’t had dinner. Surely, it was way too late to attempt cooking the meat now, and going to bed hungry was going to only lead to unsatisfactory rest. Crossing his arms over his chest, he sighed deeply. “I suppose we can’t allow this injustice to stand then,” he announced to the visible delight of both other men.
Afterwards, he settled at the table in the kitchen, watching the continuation of Bucky’s soba cutting lesson and Fool Bright’s honest attempts to reproduce the same result with various degrees of success, his brows furrowed in a sign of effort.
His anger didn’t disappear completely as they began cooking the noodles, Bucky explaining the proportions of sesame oil and dashi to use for the dipping sauce, but he calmed enough now for other feelings to surface. Now, Simon could do nothing to prevent the shame from taking the center stage among his emotions. Not exactly for yelling at Fool Bright, the guy well deserved it for what he’d done, but for a different reason completely.
After finding out so much about Fool Bright's past, and everything that he’d gone through, after learning to trust him once again, Simon couldn’t deny that when he first saw the letter, a part of him really thought Fool Bright was going to snap and hurt Bucky. Now the same part of him was drowning in guilt, pondering how to make it up to him.
The soba Fool Bright made was decent at best. It tasted fine, but fine was an incredibly low praise for something that was made in this particular restaurant. Still, the way Foll Bright was staring at him as he’d given him the dish, the way his eyes were shining bright in hope, like he was a kicked puppy dog, made Simon eat in silence and not complain even once about the inconsistency of the texture. He supposed it was the effort that counted, and if he was willing to look past all of the terrible decisions Fool Bright had made to arrive here, both literally and figuratively, Simon had to admit it was kind of... nice. Enough so that by the time he finished eating, his cheeks were practically burning with a sort of endearment he’d never admit being capable of experiencing.
Still...
***
“You have no idea how much you made me worried today!” Simon growled, placing a wet kiss over Fool Bright’s neck, thrusting into him with a kind of vigor that was still partially dictated by the whirlwind of emotions he was thrown into.
“I’m... I’m so sorry, I just...” Fool Bright moaned underneath him, clenching into Simon as for his dear life, his limbs entangling him from both sides.
“They could’ve taken you away, could've annulled the entire plea deal and locked you up for life. And all for what?”
A sound that came from Fool Bright was akin to a sob, and as Simon raised his head to look at him, he was able to clearly see tears forming in his eyes. Yet, the expression only sparked more fire inside Simon and he pushed deeper in.
“I just.. I just couldn’t handle it,” Fool Bright hiccuped. “That feeling I had... that there was somebody out there who could give you something that I couldn’t. It was driving me so mad.”
“First of all, you can’t give me everything! You can’t simply replace it all. The world doesn't work like that,” Simon huffed. “Second, do you realize we’re talking about noodles here? Noodles!”
“But you love soba,” Fool Bright protested.
“Not as much as I love—” Simon began and suddenly stopped half way, realizing what he just almost said, his eyes going wide as his entire face burned.
Both of them stilled, Fool Bright staring at him with as much surprise as Simon felt. “Proscecutor Blackwill?” he hummed, his lips stretching in the biggest smile Simon had ever seen there. “Simon? Were you about to say...”
“Silence,” Simon warned seriously, which probably didn’t end up sounding all that intimidating, given he was currently butt naked, buried deep inside his equally naked partner.
“You were about to say you loved me?” Fool Bright pushed, wiggling himself beneath him in a way that felt incredibly good, actually. Enough so that Simon absolutely failed to glare at Fool Bright as he intended, making a strange and really undignified sound that sounded almost like a mewl instead.
“Silence, I said,” he tried again.
“You absolutely did! Dear me, you’re so red right now... ah!”
If words were failing him right now, Simon had no other choice but to use a different tactic. Hooking one of his hands under the back of Fool Bright’s knee, he raised it up, completely changing the angle of his movement, before thrusting in once again. That finally managed to shut the fool, his head falling backwards onto the pillow, his eyes closing as a wordless gasp.
It didn’t take long to bring him to the edge from there, just a few more moments and Fool Bright was coming with a silent cry that turned in the end into a loud sob. He reached for Simon again next, trying to tug him as close as he only could, holding him tight untill Simon caught up to him with his own release, dropping afterwards boneless onto his lover.
They stayed like that for a long while, breathing in unison while trying to come down from the aftermath of shared pleasure. Simply being, existing in each-other’s arms.
“You know, I would like to learn how to cook well for you,” Fool Bright said, after some time, his hand tracing invisible patterns over the skin of Simon’s back, his foot sliding up Simon’s calf, making Simon feel the shape of the anklet bracelet lightly scraping him. “Not because I want to replace everyone else in your life... but... it’s incredibly boring to be stuck here all day and it will give me something to do.”
That suddenly reminded Simon that he still didn’t have a chance to break the good news, and he grinned. “Well, not going to stop you from picking up new hobbies, but you might start getting out more often soon.”
That perked a lot of interest from Fool Bright, his excitement growing more and more as Simon began explaining the situation. And then he practically pounced on Simon, flipping him around and onto his back without any effort, his lips crashing into Simon’s mouth, kissing him with so much enthusiasm that almost kicked the wind out of his lungs.
***
Ding-dong, the doorbell of the apartment rang, making Fool Bright jump from his spot on the new couch in front of an equally new television. “I’ll get it!” he announced with more excitement than the situation called for, saluting for some reason to two other people who remained seated on the couch, watching a bird documentary Fool Bright had recorded while Simon was at work. It was the second one this month, and the entire ordeal was starting to become some kind of tradition.
“Are we expecting somebody?” Simon asked, hoping that whoever it was didn’t come here to drag one of them away for work to deal with an undexplainable murder.
“I ordered something!” Fool Bright announced already moving out of the living room and towards the door.
Simon hummed in surprise and leaned over, curious what it was all about. This way the door was partially in his field of vision, so he was able to see it opening, no-one other than Bucky Whet stepping into the entryway. In his hand he was holding a stack of soba delivery platters, grinning widely from ear to ear. “Hey Bobbey, Simey, oh, Miz Chicadee, you’re also here!” he said in greeting.
Athena was the second one to react to the newcomer. “Hey Bucky, how is it going?" she asked sweetly, getting up the couch and moving towards the guy.
It was easy for Simon to see right through her facade however. Not that he thought his friend’s well-being didn’t matter to her, but one thing that at the moment came above it was the food he was carrying. Still, Simon smiled at her enthusiasm, before switching his attention to Fool Bright again. “I thought you were the one who wanted to make me food from now on,” he teased light-heartedly.
“True,” Fool Bright grinned, his gaze falling otho Bucky and Athena who were exchanging pleasantlies, the girl volunteering to help him carry the boxes into the living room. “But it’s as you said before, some things are irreplaceable.”