for Simon, Valentine's Day~

I've never given Valentine's Day much thought, I suppose because I've never had someone to spend it with. Now that I do, I realize it's something I'm probably expected to participate in. Simon hasn't hinted at much, and I wonder if it's not something he and Agatha celebrated. I, on the other hand, actually have a vested interest in making Simon happy, so I put together a breakfast for him before he wakes up. Now that he doesn't have to worry about getting first choice of scones in the dining hall, or whatever the hell drove him to waking at six in the morning at Watford, he's taken to sleeping in.

Not that I'll say it, but I like doting on Simon. I don't need the excuse of a holiday. I don't think he's ever had anyone to care for him, growing up in those care homes. Certainly not at Watford. And it's not like it's difficult, making omelets and bacon and scones with tea. So I do, and I change into something nice, and gently smack his sleeping, blanket-covered arse.

"Breakfast time," I say cheerfully.