Simon wore a tiny smirk of triumph as Gibs made room for him. That is, until he was happily sitting down with the pillow he had rescued on his lap and the remote in one hand. Then those beastly feet promptly landed right back on top of him. Simon could only blink at them and flail on the inside. He sent up a small thankful prayer for the pillow between Kyle's feet and his thighs. He doesn't know what he's doing. Just... relax. Watch the movie. That's it. The movie. You can do this, Simon told himself, blushing an even pink.
"Uh, right," he replied automatically. Then his brain caught up. "Oh, good! I told you. They make the best lasagna there," he added conversationally.
The movie started, meaning Simon must have hit play at some point. He didn't even know which of the three films was playing, even though he was sure he had consciously chosen one at some point. His eyes kept darting to the mess of matted golden hair next to him and the fuzzy feet in his lap. Man, those toe-claws looked nasty. Gibs could probably gut a person with one swipe of those things. In fact, he most likely had. There was that sense of danger again, right on cue, and damned if it didn't do things to Simon. Simon of the safe, clean, controlled life. Simon of the clean-cut, sensible dates.
By all rights, Simon should be diving for the Lysol, just knowing that Kyle walked all over the filthy city barefoot. Somehow, it only made him squirm and settle back into the couch and think of ugly things like mutant concentration camps and taxes, because if he didn't his body just might embarrass him. Oh my God, I'm getting turned on by an ape. What is wrong with me? God, but he's so cute.
Simon couldn't comfortably hold his arms up, or drape them over the back of the couch because he was too short. Eventually, he had to let them fall, his forearms draped loosely over Kyle's ankles. The jean fabric was rough against Simon's skin, and the fur tickled. Simon swallowed hard. His voice came out croaky when he spoke next.