#I wanna put them in a plastic baggy full of water and shake them like carnival fish

[greensapphic]

Hes so normal guys i swear

[jubilantwriter]

He Always Knew His Screams Would Fall on Deaf Ears

(AO3)

the prequel no one asked for but i desperately wrote because i get invested in my own aus for no good reason sorry this isn’t the toy story au whoops

TW: Descriptions of Wounds, Traumatic Events, Detailed Attempts of First Aid

Summary:  Prequel to Day 4 of Jaspvid Week 2020 - “Remember When They Were Bad Friends?”  

It all happened on one day, he realizes, as he leads Jasper back to their tent.  Everything happens so much, he realizes, as he carefully sits Jasper down on his cot and tries to keep himself together.  What he doesn’t need to realize is that Camp Campbell sucks.  And always has sucked.

And today only proved his point in the worst way possible.

Word Count:   3420

"I told you this camp sucks!"  

His hands are shaking.

"Davey-"

"It sucks and I hate it and-"

He can't have his hands be shaking.  

"Davey."

Jasper holds David's hands still.  

And he remembers to breathe.  Remembers that his choking breaths are the result of him crying.  That his hands can't be shaking because.

Because.

He's the one holding the bandages.

"You don't have to do this."

"I have to!  No one else will!"

He doesn't mean to snap.  

He really doesn't.  

But being mean is his default.  Even when he ducks his head and looks away ashamed.

He really doesn't mean to be mean.  

But Jasper is kind.  Understanding.  And he doesn't let go of David's hands.

"...Sorry."

"It's okay.  I'm not mad."

He takes a steadying breath.  Tugs his hands out of Jasper's grip and starts to unfurl the gauze.  The gauze from the first aid kit.

The first aid kit that he had to steal from the counselors.

Because they wouldn't do anything.

Because they'd rather stand around and congratulate Mr. Campbell for "saving" him and Jasper.

Because they didn't notice the bleeding, scratched up, wounded kid standing next to David even when Quartermaster ripped away his badge that he earned and gave it to David instead-

He unfurls the gauze.  Holds it up to Jasper's bloodied chest.  Watches as the brunette tries to hide his trembles.  Tries to keep his chest from heaving.

Because he's in pain.  Because he was just mauled by a bear.  Because Mr. Campbell took too long trying to find Jasper because he never wanted to find Jasper in the first place, didn't he?  Mr. Campbell was full of hooey, the worst kind of hooey, the kind of hooey David saw in so many other adults in his life-

"Davey, broski," Jasper chuckles nervously as David's hands hover with the gauze, "I don't wanna um, jam up your thoughts but uh, maybe you should disinfect the... the, you know."  He gestures to the front of his chest as he swallows down the memory.  "...Yeah."

"...Right.  Sorry.  I didn't- I never paid attention during the first aid stuff."  David mumbles softly as he puts the gauze down and searches for a... bottle.  What's it called again?  Dang it, he really should have paid attention during the first aid stuff!  He frowns as he tries to remember what his mom would use on his cuts from when he'd get into fights at school.  It's big.  And brown.  And has a white cap.  And smells like he shouldn't put it in his mouth.  David rifles around in the first aid kit, but it's too small to hold a big bottle.

Instead, he finds a smaller bottle.  Opens the cap.  Sniffs it.

Smells like hurt.

He looks between the bottle and Jasper's wounds.

Smells like a lot of hurt.  Like white foam that bubbles and burns and makes him hiss, and god, Jasper has big, deep cuts doesn't he?  He looks around the wounds, looks at the smaller scrapes and scratches and decides to take care of those ones first.

Because that'll help prepare Jasper for the pain, right?  Get him used to the burning.   Before.

Before he.

Before he has to clean bigger cuts.

David wants to cry some more.

But he can't.  Because if he cries, he won't be able to see.

And Jasper needs him, right now.

So he takes a deep breath.  

"This, um, this might hurt a little."  He finds a little baggie filled with cotton balls and immediately thinks that this won't be enough, Jasper's wounds are too big for this small bag of cotton and this small bottle of burning, but he has to make do.  He has to make do because the adults don't care and he's the only one who cares.  

The only one who saw what happened and knows that Jasper is in more pain than he lets on.

Knows that this first aid kit isn't enough, that Jasper should be in the hospital but he's not.  Of course he's not, this camp sucks and always has sucked and-

He places the cotton ball over the mouth of the bottle and does a swift pour.  The cotton ball is sufficiently damp now, damp with hurt and burning, but his mom always promised him that the hurt meant that the liquid was doing its job.  That it was cleaning his cuts of the bad germs that would make him hurt way worse.

He looks to Jasper and hovers the cotton ball by the scratch on the boy's cheek.  Jasper watches him with eyes full of trust.

They weren't always full of trust.

But after today.

After what happened.

He wonders.

Is he the only one that Jasper trusts now?

Gently, he dabs the cotton ball on Jasper's face and nearly recoils when Jasper hisses.

"Sorry!  Sorry I-"

"It's okay!"  Jasper waves his hands in front of him and laughs nervously.  His hands fall back onto his lap as they twist and grip, trying to anticipate the pain, more pain, more pain for Jasper, god, hasn't he been through enough?  Hasn't Jasper had enough pain for one day?  "I'm okay, it's just.  Um.  I guess I'm not too good with pain."

"Who’d a thunk."  David hesitates as he hovers the cotton ball over Jasper's cheek again, watching as those hands twist and grip.  "...Hang on."  Quickly, David puts the cotton on Jasper's knee (the unscathed one, somehow), and takes off his vest.  He wordlessly stuffs it into Jasper's hands, feeling them grip onto the stiff but versatile material in confusion.

"Um...?"

"I don't have a teddy bear," he says quickly as he picks the cotton ball back up, "but I figured this was, you know, good enough."

"...Thanks."

"It's the best I can do."  He avoids looking at Jasper's eyes as he gently dabs at his cheek again.  This time, there is no hiss of pain, but there is a little flinch.  Still, he keeps dabbing until he can't see any more dirt.  Until the scratch fizzes a little, and there's a little bubbly that means that the liquid is doing its job, and when it finally stops bubbling, he puts the cotton back down and looks for a bandage.

"There's uhhh... boring and boring.  Do you want Boring 1 or Boring 2?"  He offers two standard band-aids to Jasper, frowning as the other boy giggles.

He wishes he had some better ones to give the brunette, but this camp sucks so he's not too surprised that the selection sucks too.  

"I'll take Boring 2."

"Not Boring 1?  I thought for sure you'd take Boring 1."

"Why?"

Because you're Number 1 at everything, is what he wants to say.  What he says instead is:

"Because you're a square who likes dumb trends and taking the first thing sounds like something you'd do."  He flinches when he says that.  He really didn't mean it.  He's being mean again-

But Jasper just laughs.  Before, Jasper wouldn't laugh.  He'd get hurt and insulted and look upset just like all the other campers would when David insulted them.

But Jasper just... laughs.

Which is weird because it sounds real and genuine and David can’t fathom why he’s laughing right now.

But he decides that he likes hearing it.

And he wants to hear it more.

"Jeez, Davey!  If it weren't for my shoes, you'd never have saved me, y'know?"

"Yeah, whatever."  He carefully puts Jasper's chosen band-aid on his cheek.  "I still think they're dumb."

"I don't think they are!"

"You need better taste."  They keep talking, distracting themselves from the reality of their situation as they tease and poke fun at each other while Jasper's hands squeeze and pull on David's vest, while David's hands start getting into the rhythm of dab dab dab, "Boring 1 or Boring 2?", and then putting the band-aid on.

Eventually, David finishes cleaning all the scrapes and cuts.

Eventually, David sticks on the last band-aid.

And eventually.

David finds he can't prolong the inevitable.

The gauze lays still unfurled next to Jasper.

The bottle is still two-thirds full.

He still has some cotton balls left.

And Jasper looks nervous.  His leg is bouncing, hands twisting and burying themselves in David's vest as he watches David's hands.

How David is gripping tight to the small bottle in his hand.

He has to clean Jasper's wounds next.

The big ones.

Three, big gashes across his chest.

The bleeding is minimal now.

He needs to clean it.

And he thinks.

How can he put it off some more?

How can he put off putting Jasper through more pain?

"Um."  He puts down the bottle.  "I'm gonna- I'm gonna get some water and uh.  Paper towels- no, wait, I have a towel in my backpack- hold on, okay, I'll be right back."  He motions with his hands for Jasper to stay put as he backs out of their tent.  "I promise I'll be right back."  

And Jasper gives him a weak smile.  But a smile nonetheless.

"I know.  I trust you."

David hesitates.  Looks over how Jasper is hunched over on his cot, looking at David with eyes that border on scared, border on desperate, border on “please don’t leave me alone again”.  He doesn't want to leave Jasper alone.  But he needs to get the water.  He blinks slowly, watching the brunette watch him from where he stands by the tent flap.

And he swallows.

"You won't even notice I'm gone."

And he runs out.

He runs to the mess hall, to where he knows there's plastic water bottles for the campers to grab during the daytime.

Except the crickets are singing, and the stars are bright as the moon shines down on David.  He kicks open the door to the mess hall and looks over to where the water bottles usually are.

Gone.

But that won't stop him.  

He looks towards the kitchen instead.  The doors are probably locked.  But that little window from where Quartermaster dumps out their food is still wide open.  He runs to that window, jumps up to heave his upper body over the ledge, grunts as he pulls himself up and over and into the kitchen with the grace of a log as he lands with a clatter.

Spoons and spatulas clank to the ground as they make  a loud ruckus, but David finds that he doesn't care.  He doesn't care as he looks around the small kitchen and sees another door for the pantry and runs to that.  He doesn't care that when he yanks the door open, he finds Quartermaster standing inside, staring at him like a creep as a case of bottled water lays just behind him.

David growls.  "Move it, old man."

Quartermaster says nothing.  Just stares, with his single eye.

"Move, dang it!"

Quartermaster continues to stare down at him.  David huffs and dives to the side as Quartermaster watches.  The ginger quickly tears through the case and grabs bottle after bottle.

One, two, three- is three enough?  No, maybe four just in case- no, five, in case Jasper gets thirsty- wait, six, in case David gets thirsty too-

He stands up, three bottles in each arm as he turns defiantly to face Quartermaster, ready for if the man tries to stop him-

Except.

He doesn't.

Quartermaster simply watches with little interest as he steps to the side, letting David pass without a fight.  Strange.  Any other adult would be questioning him by now.  He's bad to the bone!  Anyone else would be getting mad at him for snatching six bottles of water by now!

"You're not gonna stop me?"

"Not my business," Quartermaster answers with a grunt.  "Door's unlocked.  Don't crawl through the servin' window again, gettin’ dirt all over my mashed potatoes."

"Whatever, old man."  David blows a raspberry at Quartermaster and quickly turns to run when he sees a familiar glare settle on the old man's face.  Like he said, the door remains unlocked as David kicks the kitchen door wide open with a bang, and proceeds to do the same with the mess hall doors.

It doesn't matter if anyone else hears him.  It's not like they were going to stop him.  Or do anything about it.

No one ever does anything about him anyways.

Nobody actually cares, and that's why he's always hated this camp.

They're all a bunch of fakes.

All of them.

All of them except...

He bursts through their tent, chest heaving as he drops all six bottles on the floor.  And Jasper's nervous grimace turns back into a smile.

All of them except him.

"I’m back."

"I know, bromide.  I could hear you tear through the mess hall like Taz!"

David tears through his bag and yanks out his old, raggedy towel.  He grabs the closest water bottle and cracks it open, pouring all of the contents onto the towel and then squeezing with irritation as it doesn't pour fast enough.  Once the towel is soaked, he stands up and faces Jasper.  

His chest is caked in blood.

Jasper's blood.

David's mind reels as he remembers the blood, still fresh, still bleeding, as Jasper's terrified voice met his ears.  Jasper could have died.  He could of been eaten alive by bears, or bled out, or left alone to starve in a cave-

"Davey," Jasper says softly, "it's okay, I can do this part myself-"

David jerks back away from Jasper, shaking his head quickly.

"No- no, you're hurt, you're not supposed to move."  Now's not the time to be lost in his thoughts again!  He needs to focus, focus on Jasper, focus on making Jasper feel better after everything that happened today.  "I can do it.  It's okay."

"If... if you say so."  Still, Jasper looks worried.  Uncertain.  As if he's scared David's about to break down in tears again like he did earlier when he held the first aid kit in his hands for the first time-

No.

No!

Focus, dang it!

"Just... you trust me, right?"

"I... of course I trust you, Davey."  

"Then let me do this for you."  Each word hits with a heavy emphasis as he steps closer to Jasper, the dampest part of the towel held tightly in his hand as he carefully wipes away at the dried blood.  "Please."

"...Okay."

He cleans Jasper in silence.

There's no teasing.  No light banter as the towel wipes the blood clean off of Jasper's chest, giving David a better look at the damage the bears wreaked on Jasper.

Torn skin.

Torn flesh.

But the bleeding is barely there.

Just caked blood that David wipes away from around the gashes.

He can't see bone which is- thank god, thank god.  But Jasper really should go to a dang hospital.  If he just hangs around camp, will they even heal properly?  How is he going to heal?  What can David do to help him heal?

He cleans.  And cleans and cleans and cleans until there's no more blood left to clean, and it's just three long gashes staring back at David as he holds a towel dirty with Jasper's blood.  He drops it to the floor and lowers his eyes.

He can't prolong it anymore.

What can he do?

What can he do to make it hurt less?

...The answer is nothing.

There's nothing he can do.

Jasper keeps quiet.

Doesn't interrupt David's thoughts as the ginger bends down to pick up the small bottle.  Watches as he rolls the thing around in his hands.  

What can he do?

Is the answer really nothing?

David squeezes his eyes shut.

"...Jasper."

"Yes?"

He can be honest.

"This is... gonna hurt a lot."

"...Yeah, I know."

He can... get Jasper comfortable.

"Can you... do you wanna lay down for this?"

"...Sure."

Maybe something from TV can help.

"Um, one time I watched a guy bite into something while doctor's sewed him up.  Maybe biting into my vest will help?"

"I'll give it a shot."

And... he can warn him.

"...I'm gonna start now."

"Okay."

And he can listen.  Listen to Jasper.

"If it's too much, just tell me, okay?"

"I will."

"I promise I'll stop."

"I know."

He opens his eyes.  Sucks in a breath.  

David doesn't know what he's doing.

But Jasper's staring at him.  There's fear in his eyes, because they both know this is going to suck, more so for Jasper than for David, obviously.  But there's also a bit of determination.

Like he's trying to be a little brave.

Brave enough so that David can be confident.

Brave enough to let David know that see?  This will be okay.

They'll be okay.

He trusts David.

Jasper nods to David, vest bunched up in his hands as David holds up the bottle over Jasper's chest.

He's going to have to pour.

It's going to hurt.  A lot.

But he can make it quick.

He has to make it quick.

Jasper doesn't deserve any more pain.

"...Ready?"

"Ready."

David hears rather than sees Jasper bite into his vest when he quickly pours the liquid into his wounds.  The muffled screams are hard to miss, but he has to steel his nerves and continue... disinfecting, right?  That's the word Jasper used.

He needs to disinfect the gashes to keep the bad germs out, even as Jasper thrashes on his cot and David's biting back his tears because he needs to see what he's doing, and Jasper's in pain, he's in so much pain, but he needs to do this, he needs to do this for Jasper-

The bottle is empty when he drops it to the ground, and he gathers Jasper up in his arms as he hugs him close, careful not to touch the gashes still bubbling on his chest, careful to angle them both just right so that Jasper can dig his fingers into David's back and bury his face against his shoulder so that they can both weep into each other until the pain fades.

They stay like that, clinging who knows how long until Jasper finally relaxes.

He never told David to stop, did he?

Gently, carefully, David helps Jasper sit up as he flinches and hisses from the lingering pain.  He picks up the gauze and looks to Jasper's lowered head.  

"...Can you lift your arms for me?"  A tired nod from Jasper as he weakly lifts his arms.  "...I'll be quick."

He really should have paid attention during first aid, he thinks, as he wraps the gauze around Jasper's chest.  Is this too tight?  Is it too sloppy?  Is he doing it right?  God, he hopes he's doing it right.

He keeps wrapping until he can't see the gashes anymore, and he keeps the gauze in place with some tape he finds in the kit.

Without a word, Jasper goes back to lying down.  The brunette looks exhausted, and David can't blame him.  He doesn't let go of David's vest though.  And David doesn't ask for it back.  Instead, he pulls the covers over Jasper's shoulders.  Leaves a water bottle on the ground for Jasper.  Breaks the seal so that it's easier for the boy to open.

And then David curls onto his cot.

"...Good night, Jasper."

At first, Jasper doesn't answer, and David is ready to content himself with thinking Jasper is asleep.  But then, ever so softly, he hears:

"...Good night, Davey.  Thanks for... everything."

And just so softly, ever so softly, he whispers back:

"Of course, Jasp."

Moments pass, and David can hear the soft snores of Jasper sleeping as David lies awake, watching him.  Watching and counting each rise and fall of his chest.  Listening carefully to his breathing.

And David...

David's scared.

Scared that when he falls asleep.

Jasper won't wake up.

So he stays awake.

And he watches.

To make sure that Jasper stays alive.

He'll make sure Jasper stays alive because.

Well, Jasper has a nice laugh, doesn't he?

He should laugh more.

Smile more.

This camp sucks, David knows this.

But Jasper doesn't.

And if David had paid attention during first aid, he could have helped Jasper more.

So as he lays there, watching, listening, making sure that Jasper makes it through the night, he promises himself.

Makes a quiet vow to himself.

That he'll pay attention more.

That he'll learn more.

Because David doesn't want to do this again.

And he doesn't want Jasper to go through this again.

He doesn't want anyone to ever go through this again.

Never, ever again.

[hermannsthumb]

I’ve seen pictures of Charlie day with his son and every time i see then I get a little fuzzy inside because I think about newt and herms adopting a kid after they get married:) But also them just being dads is so cute to think about. Carrying their kid around on their shoulders and reading them bed time story’s, teaching them about space and science etc etc is just so cute☺️. Could you possibly write a fic about herms and newt adopting a child and just them being cute, domestic dads?

@thejanewestin said: have you ever done a newt and hermann babysit prompt because I think that would be adorable!!

Anonymous said: A prompt idea for whenever u have time: Hermann and Newt taking care of a child. Like maybe it's one of their co-workers kids, and they have to look after him/her for the first time? I mean Newt already sounds like one of those chaos-uncles :D

i usually avoid writing/reading kidfic but top anon......ur message really got to me for some reason and made me a little teary so im doing a combo of all of the above....ur right they WOULD be cute dads

-------------------------

Hermann does not, typically, make a habit out of interacting with children, nor does he have any real desire to, so he thinks he can be forgiven, even understood for being a little wary when Newton drops the news one morning that his young “niece” will be visiting them soon.

“Technically she’s my cousin’s kid, not my niece,” Newton says, stepping into a pair of jeans, “but, you know, it’s hard for little kids to distinguish that kinda shit. I’m old and big, so Uncle Newt it is.”

“‘Big’,” Hermann repeats, skeptically. Newton grins and tosses a sock at him.

“Shut up,” he says. “You know what I mean.”

Hermann does not, not really. His siblings have yet to have children, and his cousins--few though they are--were all quite grown when Hermann was born, and by the time they had children of their own, Hermann was well on his way to becoming the unwanted black sheep who received scarce invitations to family events. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have had the chance to play uncle. “How long will she be staying?” Hermann says.

Newton pauses in buttoning his shirt. “Just a day, if you’re cool with that?” he says. “My cousin has an appointment and thought it’d be more fun for the kid if we babysat.” Hermann makes a small, vaguely distressed noise; Newton laughs. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I wasn’t expect you to help. I’ll probably take her to the park.”

Hermann feels a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll help if you need, Newton, I wouldn’t want—”

“Seriously,” Newton cuts in. He shakes his head. “We’ll stay out of your hair. Just chill for a bit, take a bath or something. Can you do up my tie?”

Newton’s cousin is five, tiny, and loud, with a mass of brown curls the same shade as Newton’s and freckles across every inch of her face, and she begins sprinting full-speed around their flat the instant Newt’s cousin (who could’ve easily been an older, long-haired Newton) bids them farewell. It hasn’t been ten minutes and Hermann is already exhausted. “My cousin says she’s like my clone,” Newton says fondly.

Across the room, the child knocks into a side table and nearly sends a lamp and a coffee mug toppling to the hardwood. “I can see that,” Hermann says. Newton sticks his tongue out at him before clapping his hands together.

“Alright!” he shouts. The girl looks up. “Get your shoes on. We’re going to the duck pond so Uncle Hermann doesn’t lose his mind.”

“The duck pond!” she echoes delightedly, and sprints back over to where she’d kicked off her small purple tennis shoes in the hallway.

Newton kisses Hermann’s cheek. “We’ll be back in a few hours,” he says, playing with the hem of Hermann’s sweater. “Text if you need me.”

Hermann fidgets. It’s a nice summer day out, not too hot, but plenty of sun, nice breeze, and the walk to the duck pond is one of Hermann’s favorites (especially on the handful of occasions in which he and Newton pack a picnic basket for dinner, and Newton props Hermann up behind him on his bicycle and pedals them both there). And Hermann’s not quite sure what he’d do with himself alone at home, anyway--wait for Newton to return, perhaps, wishing he’d tagged alone. They are rather joined at the hip these days. “Newton,” he begins.

They’d have a hard time fitting two people on the back of Newton’s bicycle, so they walk, Newton holding his cousin’s hand. “I brought peas to feed the ducks,” he says, waving a small plastic baggie in the girl’s face. Hermann stifles a small sigh of irritation; those peas were meant to be part of tonight’s dinner, which Newton was well aware of. For a vegetarian he’s shockingly good at avoiding actually eating vegetables. “Maybe we’ll see turtles if we’re lucky.”

“We have a turtle in our classroom at school,” the girl says. “It eats lettuce.”

“Awesome. You know, I should’ve brought a net,” Newton says. “Then we could’ve caught one. I use catch turtles all the time when I was your age.”

“No,” Hermann says. “We’ve already got a cat. We don’t need a turtle, too.”

“Turtles are cool,” Newton’s cousin says.

“Turtles are cool,” Newton agrees happily. 

When they’re not five minutes from the pond, Newton’s cousin comes to a halt and begins tugging on Newton’s hand. “I’m tired,” she says. “Will you carry me?”

Newton thrusts the bag of peas at Hermann and swings the girl up onto his shoulders without even pausing to take a breath. “There we go,” he says. “Hope you didn’t want a ride too, Hermann.” He winks.

“You can go next,” Newton’s cousin tells Hermann seriously.

Hermann cracks a smile. “I’ll manage, I think,” he says. 

Newton divides up the bag of peas between the three of them--despite Hermann’s protests that he really, really doesn’t need to feed any ducks, thank you--and they sit on the edge of a small wooden dock as they throw small handfuls into the pond. “These are called mallards,” Newton says, pointing at the ducks steadily congregating below their dangling feet. “The ones with green heads are dudes.”

Hermann throws down another few peas; a small, scaly mouth suddenly emerges from the water and snaps them up. He prods Newton’s arm. "There’s a turtle, dear.”

“Where?” Newton’s cousin shouts, and, in her excitement to see, accidentally drops the rest of her peas. They bounce off the dock and are devoured by ducks almost instantly. “Oh no,” she says. Her lower lip wobbles.

“Hey,” Newton says quickly, “it’s fine, we can just—”

“You can have mine,” Hermann says. He tips the remainder of his own into the girl’s palm.

For a moment, she stares at him, unblinking, and then she smiles. Hermann smiles back. “Thanks,” she says. She curls her fingers into a fist around them. “Who are you?”

Newton snorts. “That’s Uncle Hermann, remember?” he says. “He’s my husband.” He waggles his ring finger, and points to Hermann’s, which sports an identical silver band. “We’re married.”

The girl nods, evidently satisfied.

There’s a marked change in her behavior after that. She begins addressing all her inquiries to Hermann instead of Newton (what kind of plant is that, why do ducks quack, why is his hair like that), always with a little Uncle Hermann, insists on Hermann pushing her, one-handed, in the swing at the pond playground, and when it comes time to leave, turns down another shoulder ride from Newton to hold both of their hands. She swings their arms as she walks between them. (This is nice, a traitorous voice whispers in the back of Hermann’s head. I could get used to this. I have the time to get used to this, now.) “Do you want to play a board game when we get home?” Newton says.

“Will Hermann play too?” she says.

“Of course,” Hermann says, and--from the corner of his eye--catches Newton giving him a curious smile.

They dig out an ancient, dusty copy of Sorry! from the bottom of the closet and make it through a few rounds--both he and Newton doing all they can to let the girl win each time--before stopping to make cheese sandwiches for lunch. After that, Hermann lets her doodle on his small chalkboard in their home laboratory and poke around through some of his old mathematics textbooks, though everything, unsurprisingly, flies right over her head. She prefers poking around in Newton’s biology texts, also unsurprisingly--they’re full of color illustrations of different animals, and she and Newton make a game of pointing to different ones and mimicking the sounds they make.

She gives them each hugs goodbye when Newton’s cousin returns to pick her up before dinner. Hermann gets two.

Newton is strangely quiet as he clears up their dinner dishes and straightens up the living room later that night, and he’s equally quiet as he strips down to his boxers and curls up behind Hermann in bed. When Newton gets like this, it usually means he has something poignant on his mind and is debating how to put it into words. Hermann rubs his thumb over Newton’s knuckles as he waits.

“Did you have fun today?” Newton says.

“I did,” Hermann admits. 

Gentle kisses at the back of Hermann’s neck, up to a small spot behind his ear. It’s nice. Soothing. Hermann is on the verge of dozing off when Newton says, startling him quite badly, “Hermann, do you wanna have a baby?”

“A baby?”

Newton wriggles into a sitting position and tugs Hermann over to face him. He’s smiling eagerly. Hermann’s not sure what his own expression looks like--fear, maybe. Wide-eyed trepidation. “A baby,” Newton says. “We should have one. Surrogate. Or adopt one. I don’t care. I just want to have a baby with you.”

“Why--why would you want to do that?” Hermann squeaks.

“Because I think you’d be a great dad, and I think I’d be a pretty good dad,” Newton says. “And I love you.” He kisses Hermann. He kisses Hermann again. “I love you so much.”

It’s not as if Hermann doesn’t want to have a baby with Newton. He loves Newton. He loves being married to Newton. He thinks he’d love having a family with Newton. It’s only--well--the concept of fatherhood is always a bit of a touchy subject with him, almost entirely courtesy of his own father, who was never exactly ever a father to Hermann and whom Hermann is petrified of repeating the mistake of. Besides. Up until recently, the world was ending. It just wasn’t plausible--it wasn’t the sort of thing that they’d have the time for.

He lays there and allows Newton to pepper kisses across his face for some time. Newton’s very persuasive when he wants to be--he knows exactly how to make Hermann tick. “Newton,” he finally says, and Newton freezes. “I will consider it.”

“Sweet,” Newton says.

[converse-luke]

Flu Shot

Just a Poly!Cake Sicfic so enjoy!! It’s about 3.5k 

Part Two: 

Warning there is some throwing up and mentions of a car crash

@hereforlukescruff and @softforcal cause both of you helped me finish this fic and were so supportive 💗

Calum wakes up because Luke is tossing and turning. He opens his eyes and sits up, noticing you’re also awake. He reaches for you across Luke’s restless form, tapping your hand to catch your attention from where you’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone. “How long have you been up?” He asks, grabbing Luke and pulling him towards his chest.

“About half an hour. Luke kicked me in his sleep,” Calum sighs, petting Luke’s wild curls.

“He feels a bit warm, do you think he might be sick?” You put your phone down, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.

“We’ll make him take his temperature when he’s up. It makes sense though, he couldn’t take a lot last night.” Calum snorts and feels Luke tense against him. “What do we do if he is sick?”

Calum sighs, stroking Luke’s tummy to try and coax him back to sleep. “I’ll have to take him to promo. He’ll have to act like he’s not sick for our interviews today which will suck. Maybe you could put some makeup on him to make him look less like a zombie?”

Luke twists in Calum’s hold, bleary blue eyes opening with a sniff of his nose. “Morning Bambi, you look like you’re not feeling well.” He sniffles again, throat feeling tight. Calum rubs Luke’s stomach gently. “I’m gonna take your temperature okay, and we’ll get some medicine in you.” You get up from the bed, laughing at Luke’s small whine fondly while sliding a robe over your exposed skin. He turns to Calum, digging his head into his chest. Calum can feel Luke’s fever on his skin.

“Aw baby, I can feel your fever, you poor thing.” Luke huffs and tries to relax against Calum. He wants to sleep again but knows he can’t.

You return with the thermometer and some fever reducers. Calum helps Luke into a sitting position as you crawl onto the bed. Luke opens his mouth for the thermometer shutting his eyes as you watch it go up. It flashes red at you, and you sigh, pulling it from Luke’s mouth. “You have a really high fever Luke,” he suppresses a cough. “Come on, take these pills and then you need to take a cold shower.”

Calum is the one who gets to take Luke to the shower since they both have to leave anyways. While they’re both in the shower you make a pack for Calum. You pack it full of gatorade and saltine crackers along with a few medical masks and enough medicine to knock out a horse. You hear the water shut off and go back to the bedroom, putting the backpack next to Calum who is dressing Luke. You grab a hoodie and place it next to the backpack. He seems quite tired, letting Calum pick out his shirt before handing him off to you. You guide Luke to the bathroom, making him sit on the counter while you search for the foundation and concealer you had gotten for Luke. “This is to make you look healthy Bambi, I can give you some pretty eyeshadow too if you want.”

“Just wanna look healthy.” He conceals a cough into his sleeve. You nod, getting some primer out and rubbing it into his skin. Usually, Luke squirms when you do his makeup, but right now he slouches and lets his eyes close. You feel bad as he slumps over, exhaustion taking over his features.

“Calum!” You hiss, noticing that Luke is on the edge of passing out. He hurries in, sagging at Luke’s form. “He can barely stay awake, how can he go out like this?” Calum sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

“I can try and call our management team but I doubt they’ll let us go without our lead singer. For now, let’s just put him back in bed.” He hoists Luke up onto his hip and carries him back to bed. The blond is limp as he’s tucked back under the warm covers. As you pack away Luke’s makeup Calum leans against the counter and puts his phone to his ear. “Listen, I know we have an important string of interviews today but Luke is ill. Is there any way we can do this without him?” You watch Calum’s brow furrow in frustration, “No I understand this is important but he can barely get up. He’s running a high fever,” Calum pushes a hand through his short silver hair, “I know that because I live with him.”

“Calum,” he holds up a finger.

“I don’t care what you think about my lifestyle choices. You need to care about the health and safety of my bandmate.” You grab ahold of one of his hands as he begins to seeth in anger, “Whatever, jesus christ.” Calum slams his phone on the counter and groans.

“Babe, it’s okay, calm down.” He shakes his head in frustration and clenches your hand.

“They don’t fucking care about us. Luke is ill and… and no one cares about his well being except us!” You step between his thighs and take his cheeks between your hands. Calum takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I don’t want to wake him up,” he admits.

“I’ll do it,just take a minute to calm down.” You press a kiss to his lips and leave the bathroom. You sit down next to Luke, his body completely still. You place a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake as calmly as possible. “I’m so sorry Bambi, you have to get up now.”

Luke whimpers as he sits up, big doe eyes red and teary. “I know, I know Bambi, but as soon as you come home you can rest and cuddle.” Luke nods, slipping out of bed and shaking. “Calum is gonna take good care of you okay?”

X-X-X

“Calum,” Luke whimpers in the back of the van in between interviews. He’s wearing a medical mask, head laying on Calum’s shoulder. Ashton and Michael are in the front of the van, listening to their own music. “My stomach hurts, really bad.”

Calum takes a break from petting Luke’s hair to look down at him. His face is unbelievably pale despite the makeup you’d put on it. “Are you going to throw up?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Luke groans as the van hits a pothole. Calum sneaks a hand under his shirt and rubs his turning tummy. “I wanna go home,” Calum feels his forehead gently.

“Sorry Bambi, I wish I could take you home.” Luke closes his eyes, trying to settle back against Calum. They hit another pothole and Luke gags.

“Gonna puke,” Calum alerts their driver, helping Luke out of the back of the car. Luke heaves, embarrassed tears falling down his cheeks. He rips the mask off before throwing up on the side of the road. Luke’s body feels so weak he starts to tip over but Calum catches him with strong hands.

“Okay, we’re gonna sit down and I’m gonna call y/n so she can pick us up.” Michael and Ashton let them back into the car while Calum gets his phone out. Luke fully lays down, small tears falling down the side of his face. “Y/N, I need you to pick us up. I just texted you the address. Luke threw up, he can’t get through another interview.”

“Cal, they’re not going to let you go.” Ashton comments with regret in his eyes. “And you know they’re going to pitch a fit about Luke leaving.” Luke lets out a pitiful noise as the van continues down the street. He nods, focusing on his sick boyfriend in his lap.

X-X-X

You pull up and turn on the flashers, running out of the car and opening the back door to the radio station. Calum is sitting with Luke, his skin sticky with sweat. You pick up the backpack you’d put together and glance between them. Calum is stroking Luke’s arm as he rests almost fully on him. “Can you take him to the car, Ashton and Michael are stalling.”

“Of course, the fans are on the other side of the building so we have some privacy.” You kneel down and put your hand on Luke’s thigh. “Hi Bambi, we’re gonna go home and get you all snuggled up in bed. Does that sound good?” Luke hums, blinking slowly at you. “Come on Bambi, let’s get up.” Luke slumps against you, holding onto your neck as you both stand up.

You and Calum share a look, a silent ‘I love you’ as you adjust Luke so you can help him to your car. You walk him to the car, helping him in, and buckling him up. “If you have to throw up I have plastic baggies. You should close your eyes too and get some rest.” Luke closes his eyes as you walk around the car.

The drive back home is filled with stuffy snores and quick glances over to your boyfriend. As you turn off your car in the garage you stare at Luke. His face is relaxed under the blue mask, arms crossed over his stomach, and legs stretched out as far as they can. You hate to wake him but there is no way you can get him inside on your own. “Luke sweetie, let’s get up so you can snuggle in bed.” Luke blinks blearily at you and gets out of the car. He hobbles up the stairs and disappears while you get the backpack. You go to the bedroom after closing the garage. Luke is half laying on your bed, legs uselessly on the ground. You take a picture of him, sending it into your group chat before lifting Luke’s lower half onto the bed. Tugging his pants off you toss them to the side, sitting Luke up so you can take his shirt off and putting a tee shirt on.

You push the comforters back and tuck Luke in, removing the mask and pressing a kiss to his forehead. You send another picture of Luke tucked in to the chat, Calum responding with a slew of emojis. Luke startles when you move away, grasping at your wrist weakly. “What baby?”

“Can you stay with me?” He whispers with a sniffle. You slide into bed behind him, hooking your arm around him and pulling his body so it’s flush against yours. “I feel like I’m useless right now.”

“You’re not sweetie, why do you think that?”

“Cause I’m not with the guys doing my job. Instead I’m here.”

“Luke you are sick, you threw up on the side of the road. There is no way you could have done another interview, you lasted as long as you could Bambi. There’s nothing wrong with being sick.” He huffs like he doesn’t agree with you but he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. You play with his curls to help him sleep, smiling when he lets out a stuffy snore.

X-X-X

Calum slowly walks into your house, beelining to the bedroom, shedding clothes on the way. “Are you up y/n?”

“Yea, can you cuddle him, I wanna make him some soup.” Calum crawls up the bed, letting you scooch away before climbing under the covers and bringing Luke to him.

Luke melts into Calum’s touch while you sneak off to the kitchen. You watch them as you pull food out from your kitchen cabinets. Calum is focused on Luke and the stuffy snores that filter out of his mouth, adjusting his body so his blond curls are resting on Calum’s chest. It’s adorable despite the fact that Luke is ill. You walk back to the bedroom as you put the lid on while the soup cooks and sits on Luke’s other side. He squirms against Calum’s side while you press a kiss to his cheek. Luke opens his eyes when you brush a hand down his arm, a bit disoriented. “Cally?”

“Hi Bambi, y/n is making you some soup and then you can take some more medicine.”

“Mhm, you’re home,” you giggle at his tired statement. Calum plays with his blond curls and smiles a bit.

“I am home sweet thing, you’re still feverish.”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, neither of us are leaving you Luke. We’re gonna take care of you.” Calum kisses Luke’s head as a brief flicker of pain flashes through his eyes. You stay for a minute longer, watching your boys lay together. Getting up is hard, especially when Luke whines and curls into Calum. You grab him a bowl of chicken noodle soup and bring it to him, setting it down on the bedside table. Calum sits up and helps Luke up before grabbing the bowl of soup.

He spoon feeds the youngest even though they both know Luke is strong enough to feed himself. But Luke likes being cared for and smiles as he’s spoonfed. “I love your cooking y/n,” Luke murmurs as you sit next to him with a glass of grape juice. “Juice?” You and Calum laugh as you hand him the glass. He takes greedy gulps of the juice and settles back to Calum, opening his mouth for more soup. Calum feeds him until the bowl is empty and Luke is sleepily blinking at him. You go and fetch some more medicine, using Luke’s sleepy state to get him to take them. His fingers lock around Calum’s shirt in a vice-like grip as his deep eyes slip closed. You take the bowl and place it back on the bedside table, snorting as Calum shuffles down the bed so him and Luke can be laying down properly. Sliding in next to them, you wrap an arm around Luke so he can be connected to both of you. Calum takes your hand, running his thumb over your skin.

X-X-X

A body scrambling over you wakes you from a raunchy dream with your boys. You grunt as a knee digs into your stomach, eyes bursting open. The bathroom light turns on just before a retching noise sounds from the room. You get out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you walk into the bathroom. You pull Luke’s curls back as he throws up into the toilet, rubbing his back gently.

When he’s done he slumps back against the bathroom cabinets. “Can you get up Luke?” He shakes his head and clutches his stomach. “Okay, I’m gonna get Calum and he can carry you back to bed.” Luke doesn’t reply as you stand up and go to your bedroom. You shake Calum, whacking him with a pillow when he doesn’t wake. He jumps, staring at you with wide brown eyes. “Luke got sick again,” before you finish Calum is springing up and hurrying to the bathroom.

Luke is still propped up on the cabinet, eyes half closed. Calum kneels down, hooking an arm around under Luke’s knees and the other around his upper back. He lifts Luke easily, taking him back to bed. “Here Bambi, swish,” you hand him some mouthwash, a small bucket in your hands for Luke to spit into. As soon as the mouthwash is in his mouth Luke splutters, blue getting all over himself and the bed. His eyes snap up, tears filling up in them.

“I’ll clean it up, I’m sorry,” he blubbers while Calum shushes him.

“It’s okay Luke, you’re sick. I’ll change the sheets while you and Calum clean up.” Calum lifts Luke and sets him on the edge of the bathtub before returning to help you strip the bed. “I want to take him to the hospital, he shouldn’t be this weak after the medicine and rest.”

“Y/N, he hates the hospital. It terrifies him.”

“I know that, but he’s been getting worse all day. Calum, I’ve never seen him this sick before.” You pull on a clean sheet, setting it across the bed. “If his temperature is above one hundred we’re taking him to the hospital.” Calum nods, going to the bathroom while you lug the sheets to the washing machine. Calum appears behind you, a thermometer in his hands.

“It’s at one o’ two, I’m gonna try and relax him before we go to the hospital.” Calum goes back to the bathroom, picking Luke up and holding him close to his chest. Luke lays his head on Calum’s shoulder, eyes foggy and body shaking. “Do you want me to sing to you Lukey?”

“Please?” His voice wavers while Calum adjusts him, slowly beginning to sing one of their old songs. Calum carries Luke all the way to their car, putting him in the back of their car and buckling him in. He stays next to Luke while you get in and put the car in reverse. Luke is silent on your way to the hospital save for the occasional whimper that has Calum trying to soothe him.

X-X-X

You hold Luke’s hand as he lays in a hospital bed. An IV is in his arm, a bandage keeping it in place. He’s on pretty strong meds so he’s sleeping soundly. Calum walks in, pressing a kiss to your forehead before sitting next to you. “So apparently, Luke hasn’t gotten a flu shot in years. And he’s supposed to have gotten one every year for tour. Which is why he’s so sick this year.” You shake your head, running a thumb over Luke’s hand.

“What else did they say?”

“The meds have gotten his fever down, he should be able to go home tomorrow morning but he’s on bedrest until he’s completely better.” Calum rests his head on your shoulder, placing a tattooed hand on Luke’s leg.

It’s unsettling to see Luke in a hospital bed again, even if its only for the flu. You remember a time when he was in one for a more morbid reason. When all you could do was wait to find out if he would be okay or not. Calum had held you so tightly in the waiting room chairs while tears licked down your cheeks. When Luke had finally gotten out of surgery and was fully awake you and Calum told him what happened. How he’d gotten tee boned by someone who blew through a traffic light while he was turning. Luke had tears falling down his face as he held onto you both and his heart skittered across the monitor.

Calum’s hand squeezing yours startles you back to reality. “You okay?”

“Yea, just thinking about the last time we were in a hospital room.” Calum takes your hand and kisses it.

“He’s okay y/n, it’s just the flu, not a car crash. None of his bones are broken and he’s not fresh out of surgery.”

“I know, but he just looks so small when he’s like this.” Luke turns his head, curls splaying on the pillow.

“He does, but you should see him in the bunks. He’s so broad and trying to cuddle with him in the bunks is rough.” You snort at the thought of two giant men trying to fit in a bunk made for one average sized adult. “I think Ash has a video of us falling on the floor.” You laugh again before yawning. “Go to sleep, we’re all exhausted.”

X-X-X

Luke gets better quickly, especially after some bed rest. He demands at least one of you to be with him at all times. The first day he’s up on his feet Luke’s energy is through the roof. He bounces around and dances like a goofball when you put on your Paramore vinyl.

Calum is trying to play a game and Luke keeps pushing his head onto Calum’s lap. “Luke I swear to god, calm down.” Luke giggles and squirms further into Calum’s lap. His ocean blue eyes sparkle with mischief as he bites on Calum’s thigh, the older man jumping in surprise. “You just like being a brat don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Luke teases. Calum rolls his eyes and pauses his game. He looks down at Luke and smiles, sneaking a hand down to Luke’s stomach. His fingers run over Luke’s skin, Luke’s giggles filtering through their apartment. Calum hoists Luke up so he can get more access to where he’s the most ticklish. “No! Calum!” He laughs, voice pitching high as he tries to pry Calum’s fingers off of him. “Y/N, help!” You shake your head and go over to the couch where the two of them are laughing. Doe eyes stare up at you until they scrunch up again in laughter. Luke’s head tips back as he lets out delicious sounds of laughter.

“Do you want help Bambi?” Luke squeals as you tickle just under his arms. He laughs loudly, body jerking as you and Calum elicit sweet sounds from him.

“Ahhh! Please, stop!” You both stop tickling him and let Luke catch his breath. A smile breaks out across his face as you place a kiss to his cheek while Calum kisses his hand. His dimples get even deeper as he sits between you. “I love you guys so much.”

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

California Beach

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word Count:  3781

Summary: Baz and Simon go to the beach, much to Baz's reluctance. Based on "underwater kiss” request.

Read on AO3

AN: I'm back! Well, sorta. I'm still slowly dying from uni ;-; So I wrote this, pure mindless snowbaz fluff, to fill a request and distract myself from the crushing amount of work I'm supposed to do. It's not my best written piece tbh. But it was lots of fun and just cute. Hope you enjoy it :D

Baz

I’m literally rocked awake. Pushed back and forth on the hotel mattress like a rolling pin. The clock right in front of my tired eyes reads 11:00am, which is late for me to get up. But considering the heavy amount of alcohol I drank last night, I’d much rather stay in bed. Plus my head is throbbing. And the loud voice of my boyfriend does not help with that.

“Baz Baz Baz!” Snow yells gleefully.

“What?” I growl.

“You gotta get up. Today’s the day.”

I roll over to face him. He’s smiling so hard his gorgeous face must hurt. He’s all tan from our two weeks in California sun. It makes his freckles even more prominent on his tawny skin. I’d find it adorable if he hadn’t just shaken me awake.

“And what day would that be, Snow?”

“Our last full day in California. And there’s still one thing we haven’t done...” He cocks an eyebrow. I groan and slide a hand across my face.

“The beach,” I grumble.

Simon throws his arms up. “The beach!”

There are very good reasons I’ve been avoiding the beach. The beach is nothing but stinging sunlight, people there tend to be awful, and sand is very itchy. But I promised Snow we’d go to the beach at least once while here in America. And I keep my promises, especially to him.

Snow and Wellbelove sit in the front seat. They’re singing along to some pop song together at the tops of their lungs. As great as it is that they’ve mended their friendship since the Christmas break incident, Simon is a very poor vocalist. My ears ache as he yell-sings. (He’s somehow off key on every single note.) I’m ignoring them as best I can. Bunce is next to me, staring out the window. She’s got a huge floppy sunhat on and and tie dye sundress. I think she’s ignoring just as much as me.

“What do you plan on doing at the beach, Bunce?” I ask.

Bunce flicks her gaze to me and smirks. “I have a date, actually.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a thick book. The red cover reads The Brothers Karamazov in big bold letters. “His name is Fyodor. We’re getting along very well.”

I smirk. “What a coincidence.” I pull out my copy of War and Peace. “I’m seeing a Russian man as well.”

Bunce barks out a laugh. (Thankfully someone appreciates my literary humour. No one else will.) “Well, don’t let Simon know. He’ll be jealous.”

“Don’t let me know what?” Of course Simon is listening at that exact moment. He narrows his eyes at us.

“Nothing, love,” I say, patting his hand. “Just some Russian literature jokes.”

He rolls his eyes, muttering something along the lines of "pretentious gits". He quickly resumes the upbeat ear torture.

I look back out the window. I’m still dreading all this. I try to focus the passing scenery, but it doesn’t shake any of my worry. Soon, my eyes wander to Simon the front seat. He seems so happy. I like him like this, carefree and enjoying himself. He notices me and smiles in the rear view, face glowing and eyes lit up.  My worries lessen just a bit.

The sun is officially not the worst part of the beach. The people are.

Lots of bustling, pushing, loud people, all with very important places to be obviously. I’m shoved four times as I walk across the sandy surface. I growl at them under my breath. Luckily, we soon find a nice spot in moderate shade.

“Perfect,” I say. I unfold the tiny chair and plant it in the sand. I lounge back in it with my eyes closed. The sun hits my eyelids, making me see wonderful swirls of red and orange. Until a shadow crosses in front of me. I groan and crack one eye open.

“You’re blocking my sun, Snow,” I mutter.

He’s standing over me with his arms crossed. He looks a bit annoyed, if his furrowed brow is any clue, but what I mostly see is concern. I wonder what he's so concerned about.“Shut up, you hate the sun,” he says. “Are you going to sit here all day?”

“I said I’d go to the beach with you. That doesn’t mean I have to do any typical beach activities.”

“We came here to have fun.”

I pull out my book. “Tolstoy is fun for me. Pierre is being an idiot again and it’s bloody entertaining.”

He sighs and smiles slightly. He may not understand, but at least he accepts it. “Very well. If that’s what you’d like. But can you at least help me out?”

“Of course.”

He pulls off his baggy white t-shirt, and my breath hitches. I’m transfixed by the muscles moving in his back as he bends over the beach bag. He tosses a plastic tube at me.

“Get my back for me, will ya? I don’t want to burn to a crisp out there.” I do hear his voice, I swear. But he’s stretching his arms over his head and my brain is simply not functioning.

He kicks my foot, jolting me out of my trance. He giggles and shakes his head.

“You’re so easily distracted,” he sighs, sitting on the sand so his back is to me.

“Oh fuck off, Snow.”

“Nope!” He tilts his head back to grin smugly. “You’d miss me too much.”

I sigh, twisting one of his curls around my finger. “Unfortunately. You’re absolutely infuriating.”

“Right back at you, Pitch.” He looks forward again and scoots back. “Now please do this. I really want to get in the water.”

I squeeze out some of the sunblock. I rub it on him slowly, taking my time to feel every muscle. It���s not like I haven’t before. But I still savour how his skin feels under my touch, tracing his moles and freckles as I go. He groans in protest.

“Hurry up, Baz.”

“Am I not allowed to enjoy touching my boyfriend’s back?”

“Of course you are. Just get on with it now. You can touch me more later.”

"That a promise, Snow?"

He looks at me with wicked glint in his eye. "Certainly. But now, please hurry up?"

I sigh heavily and do as he asks. When I’m done, I lean forward and kiss the mole on his neck. “Have fun, love,” I whisper next to his ear.

He hums happily, caressing my arm. “You too, darling.”

With that, Simon jumps up and runs towards the ocean. Bunce and Wellbelove are already in there. (Wellbelove somehow convinced her to not sit and read like me.) I pull my beach cover up closer around my body and pick up my book.

Usually, when I read, the rest of the world sort of fades away. The story plays in my head like a movie. But right now, the film keeps stopping and starting. Every time I start to get sucked back into the tale of Russian aristocracy, something pulls me back out. Hearing Simon’s loud laugh, or Wellbelove’s giggling shrieks, or Bunce’s berating their antics with affection in her voice.

After barely getting through three pages, I look up over my book. Simon is sitting near the water’s edge, making a tiny mountain out of wet sand. His soaked curls are plastered to his head. He’s smiling in a soft way. Not with unbridled mad joy or carefree glee, just sort of peacefully content. I love seeing him like this. And you know, I think I’d rather be out of my comfort zone with him now than relatively safe by myself.

I walk up behind him, then kick a bit of sand next to his leg.

“What are you building there, Snow?”

Simon’s head whips around, face filled with confusion. But quickly he softens and just shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe a castle. So far it’s just a lump.”

I sit down opposite from him with my legs crossed. “Need some help?”

“Would appreciate it, love.”

We start playing with sand together. Just lazily tossing the substance between our hands, letting it run through our fingers, adding to Snow’s little lump, which slowly gets bigger. It’s like we’re little kids. And it’s surprisingly fun for such a simple activity. Despite the sun beating down on us and people being idiots. A man walks past us far too quickly, bumping my shoulder. I sneer as he walks past.

“Hey,” Simon reaches out to put his hand over mine. “It’s alright. He was an arsehole.”

“The beach seems to attract those,” I grumble.

He grips me a bit tighter. “You okay? You want to go back to your chair? I’d understand.”

“No no.” I flip my hand and hold his properly.  “I’d rather be here with you. No matter the arseholes.”

The right half of his lip pulls up in a half smile. He squeezes my hand. “Thanks.”

“Hey lover boys!” We both turn to Agatha, who has her hands cupped over her mouth. “Penelope and I hereby challenge you two to a water war! Winners pick what we have for dinner tonight!”

Simon faces me, expression pinched with tentative worry. “You wanna? You don’t have to. I can easily take those two on my own.”

I suck on my fangs (Snow’s right, I definitely do it when I’m thinking). The anxiety and nervousness run cold through me. But the heat of Simon’s hand on mine fights it back.

“I’m not taking off my shirt,” I say flatly as I remove my sunglasses. “Don’t want a bigger sunburn than needed.”

“That’s fine. I’ll meet you out there.” He gives me a single cheek peck and runs into the water. I walk back to my spot to deposit my beach cover on the chair. I pull down my black long sleeve to make sure it reaches the top of my swim trunks. No need to turn completely red later.

I dip a toe in the ocean, and it’s freezing. Not sure what else I expected though. Simon motions for me to come on. With cautious steps, I walk further and further in. When I reach Snow and the others, I’m hip deep in water

“So how does this work?” I say.

“Like this!” Penny shouts, just as she splashes me with salt water. I sputter and gasp. Simon is looking at me nervously, like he’s not sure what I’ll do. But I know exactly what I’m going to do.

“Oh,” I chuckle, “it’s on, Bunce.”

I splash back at her. With my strength, it’s a practical wave that knocks her over. Wellbelove retaliates immediately. She’s quite a formidable opponent. Soon we descend into furious splashes. I aim for Bunce, who is not too strong but very determined. My shirt is quickly soaked through. Simon gets more than a few lucky shots in on Wellbelove. But then he hits her right in the face so hard she has to stumble back a couple feet. He laughs maniacally. Bunce and Wellbelove glare at him, then give each other a knowing look. All their water attacks turn on Snow. He shrieks and yells, arms up in defence against the water.

“Baz!” He yells. “Save me!”

“Sorry, love, I think this is well deserved.”

He stares daggers at me, but I just smirk. A slow, devious smiles spreads across his face. My heart stops. What in Merlin’s name is he thinking? Out of nowhere, a huge crashing wave from Snow’s direction hits me right in the face. I stumble and my heel hits a rock, making me fall back into the water. Everything is blurry, and kind of muffled. A strong freckled hand grips my wrist and hauls me up back into the dry world. I gasp and blink, only to see a curly haired man doubled over in laughter.

“Oh Crowley,” he sputters. “Your face!”

“How the fuck did you do that?” I say, still catching my breath.

He wipes a laughing tear from his eye. “Just cause they’re invisible doesn’t mean they’re useless.” The water around his back ripples. Right, his wings. He’s been learning to use them more.

I chuckle. “You sneaky bastard. That’s cheating.”

“I don’t see how it’s any different from your vampire strength.”

With a few steps, I’m right next to him. I put an arm around his waist. “You have a point, Snow. For once.”

“Oh thank you.”

Wellbelove and Bunce have abandoned us in favour of scouring the ocean floor for seashells. Snow leans his head on my shoulder. I just caress his side, enjoying feeling of his wet skin under my fingers. I want to stay here forever, even in spite of the freezing cold water.

“Hey,” Snow whispers. “Wanna try something?”

“Depends,” I say, looking down at him, “will I be grievously injured?”

“I sure hope not. It’d take a huge fuck up to do that.”

“Mm, but you do specialise in those.”

He pinches my side, and I snicker. “Prat. Just trust me, alright?”

I push some of his soaked hair out of his face. “I always do, Simon.”

Snow smiles ear to ear. “Alright then. C’mon kneel down on the ground.”

He holds my hands as we kneel on the ocean floor. A couple of shells stab my skin. I wince, but simply adjust. Just our heads stick out of the water. I’m still not sure what the point of this is.

“Okay,” Simon says, “on the count of three, dunk your head underwater, alright? And stay there.”

“For how long, Snow?”

“Just wait. You’ll know when.” He’s got a cheeky look on his face that makes me both excited and anxious. “Okay, 1, 2, 3!”

I take a deep breath and submerge my head. The water rushes into my ears and stings my eyes so much I have to close them. I feel what must be a hand curve around jaw. Something softly presses against my mouth. I recognise it as Snow’s lips (I’d know his lips anywhere). He kisses me slowly, probably because the water is forcing him to. I place my hand over his. It feels nice, in a dreamy and distant sort of way.

One problem though: being underwater means we run out of breath very quickly. It only takes a few seconds before I need air. I pull back and rocket to the surface, taking  a huge gulp of air into my lungs. Simon follows only moments later. We’re back to kneeling in front of each other.

“Underwater kiss?” I say, still breathing harshly. “Really, Snow?”

He shrugs. “Always looks so romantic in the movies.”

“Movies don’t account for the need for gas exchange, obviously.”

“I guess so.” He looks a bit disappointed, and very embarrassed. I bet dollars to doughnuts he’s picking at his damn nails again. I grab his right hand, lacing our fingers together.

“It was a lovely idea, Simon. And very sweet of you. If I’m going to do stupid rom-com shite, I’m glad I’m doing it with you.”

His face softens, the . “Thanks, love.”

I tug forward, making him yelp. We’re nose to nose. “Now how about kissing me up here, where we can breathe properly?”

He smiles deviously, like when he wing splashed me, like whenever he has a wicked idea. “Very well, if you insist.”

Simon’s mouth crashes on mine. Not in slow motion, but fast and hot. I grab at his hair, running my fingers through the soaking wet strands. He wraps his legs around my torso, practically crushing our chests together. I moan softly as his tongue flicks against my bottom teeth. Scratch my earlier sentiment. This is where I want to stay forever, with Simon Snow in my arms, kissing me until I’m breathless.

“Hey!” The sharp voice snaps us out of the moment. We both turn to see Bunce with her hands on her hips. “Is not even the ocean safe from your snogging?”

“When are you going to learn that nowhere is safe from our snogging, Bunce?” Simon laughs heartily, letting his forehead fall against my shoulder.

“You two are disgustingly cute, y’know.” Wellbelove says, smiling softly. In another time, I would’ve sneered at her. Been insulted by her words. But we know each other better now. Merlin, we might almost be friends. What an unpredictable occurrence. I know she has no ill will.

“That’s the plan!” Simon shouts. “We’re aiming for the ‘cutest vampire-dragon man couple in England’ award!” The girls roll their eyes at us simultaneously.

“That’s not even a thing, Snow.” I say with a smirk. He looks at me with his glittery blue eyes and matching grin.

“No, but we can damn well try.”

“I certainly can’t disagree with you there.”

He kisses me again. Short and sweet. I still feel it everywhere in my body. He pulls back, playing with a piece of my wet hair.

“You’re amazing,” he sighs, voice wistful and dreamy. “I love you.”

“And you’re terribly sappy. But I love you too.”

He leans back, arms still wrapped around my neck and legs clinging to my waist. “Wanna look for seashells? It’d be a great present for Mordelia.”

I scoff. “I doubt Mordelia would think so. But it would piss her off, which would be infinitely more entertaining.”

Snow giggles as he disentangles himself from me. “You’re the worst brother.”

“Now you sound like Mordelia. Stop it.”

He keeps snickering as we run our fingers across the ocean floor. But it’s not long before my left hand is holding his right. Yeah, I’d rather be doing that than looking for silly shells.

It’s not until much nightfall that we head back to the hotel. We stayed at the beach later than planned, and then got dinner at a burger joint. (There was a great row over who won the water fight, until we agreed that we all wanted greasy American burgers.) Bunce sits in the front this time. I don’t mind being in the back though. It means Snow can doze off on my shoulder. He keeps one arm wrapped my stomach, snoring softly into my shirt.

When we reach the hotel room, having bid goodnight to Wellbelove and Bunce, I’m half dragging Snow. His feet are catching on the cheap carpet. Thank magic for vampire strength. I manage to get him into our bed. He flops unceremoniously, legs hanging off. I sit next to him on the end.

Only now do I recognise the stinging sensation across my legs. I touch a finger to my thigh, and feel raw scratchy skin. Looking at the redness of my flesh, I know exactly what’s wrong. Damn. Guess three layers of FPS 100 still isn’t good enough for a vampire.

“You alright, love?” Simon mumbles sleepily, leaning up slightly.

“Nothing terrible,” I reply. “Just a sunburn.”

He sits straight next to me. “Thought you put on sunblock.”

“I did. But that stuff is made for humans with normal UV ray tolerance.”

Simon dashes over to his suitcase and starts rummaging. He soon scurries back, holding a small plastic bottle filled with clear gel. My heart seizes.

“That better not be what I think it is, Snow,” I say as calmly as possible. “Because today has been a long day and I don't think either of us are in the mood.”

He rolls his eyes in an almost perfect imitation of Bunce. “No, you dirty minded git. It’s aloe vera. S’pose to help with sunburns. Now sit against the headboard.”

I do as he says. He squeezes some of the liquid out onto his hand. When it touches my skin, the rush of coolness spreads through my body. I sigh under my breath. Snow may have a point. This feels quite soothing. He rubs up and down my left leg first then my right, spreading the gel as he goes. Despite his apparent exhaustion, he’s good at taking his time, making sure he doesn’t miss anywhere. I let myself melt into the sensation. The burned, raw feeling fades under his soft hands. Crowley, if I wasn't so tired, I would jump my amazing boyfriend right now.

“Feeling better?” he whispers.

“M-hm,” I hum out. “Very much so. Please don’t stop.”

“I would happily contintue. But I think we both need to sleep.”

I groan, head falling back. “Sadly can’t argue with you there.”

Snow’s hands leave my legs. He tugs off my shoes and shorts and t-shirt. (This would be much sexier if we weren’t both so knackered.) He rummages around in our suitcases, and tosses my fleece pyjamas at me. I put them in with great effort. Flopping down flat on the bed feels like falling on a cloud. Snow clambers in after me, the mattress sinking with him. He holds me from behind, an arm across my middle. He’s careful not to touch my legs. I hold his hand on my stomach.

“Thank you,” he whispers against my neck. “For everything today.”

I scoot closer to him. “I promised you the beach, Simon. And I told you, I keep my promises.”

“No, it’s just that, I mean-” he sighs, regaining his composure. “Thank you for trying. You know, stepping out your comfort zone back there. I know it wasn’t easy, but I had a lot of fun with you today. So I want you to know how grateful I am. It means a lot to me.”

My heart is beating incredibly fast. Simon may not be good with words most of the time, but when he finds them, Crowley, they’re always so beautiful. I flip around so I can look at him properly. The moonlight dances across his skin and shiny smile. I reach out to stroke his cheek.

“Well, thank you for waiting for me to come to you. It was very considerate.”

He taps his forehead against mine. “It was worth the wait. You’re worth the wait.”

I look down. “Stop, you’ll make me blush.” I chuckle to hide the nervousness in my voice.

“Y’know,” he says as he knocks my chin up, “that sarcasm doesn’t really work when you're actually blushing.”

“Oh shut up, Snow.”

He giggles as he pulls me against his chest. I just let him, snuggling closer into his too big t-shirt. We’re too tired for anymore banter.

“Goodnight, Baz,” he mumbles into my hair. “Love you.”

I trail my fingers up and down his back. Today has been unexpected and unplanned in so many ways. Which was nice, but I’m glad it’s ending like this. Laying here, in Simon’s familiar, comforting embrace. And I really hope to end many others in the same way.

“Love you too, Simon.”

AN: Request filled! Just Simon and Baz being good supportive bfs and attempting stupid rom-com bs. Also I picked War and Peace because that book is surprisingly awesome and very funny. Highly recommend it. Even if it is 1400 pages lol.

So the next kiss fic probably won't be posted for awhile honestly. Reading week is coming up, which means I'm going to actually have to start writing my essays (hahaha kill me). I plan to work on and post the last two around Christmas. Hope you liked this little beach adventure :)

[tvsoftboi]

@somekindofsentience

Hes so normal guys i swear