"Fucker," Simon muttered as he grabbed you by your arms, grinning confidently when you squealed and giggled, squirming to get out of his grasp, he pulled you tight to him, dropping you both on the couch, burying his face in your neck and blowing a raspberry against your nape. "Y’r a menace, love." He chuckles into your hair. "Couldn’t’a learned that from me, eh?" He teased. "Must’ve been Johnny. Turnin' my favorite boy into a lil' trouble maker."