#when simon goes a little too far Baz tugs

[facewithoutheart]

News Alert: Simon is now securely attached, to Baz. Via tail.

[angelsfalling16]

From that quote-prompt list...

Have you done "I'm not leaving you here"?

Been needing some angst. XD

💜

Thanks for the prompt! <3 Sorry it took me so long to complete it; I wanted to make it a little bit longer and make it part of my 20fk series. I hope you like it! Also, I just saw that it was your birthday yesterday, so happy belated birthday!! :)

You can also read this on ao3

---

Baz

Simon gets called out at the beginning of class to go on a secret mission for the Mage, and even though it has happened before, it seems to irritate me more today. Why does Simon keep allowing the Mage to use him as his pawn?

He is more than a bomb that the Mage can point at one of his many enemies and allow to go off. He’s a person, a boy, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like this, like he’s expendable. I don’t understand how I am the only one who sees this. Surely, even Penny would be wary of this. But I guess no one is willing to go up against the Mage like that. (Except maybe Fiona.)

One of these days, he is going to get himself killed, and I will not sit idly by and watch that happen. I have to make Simon see that he’s being used, that he doesn’t have to keep doing this. As soon as this class lets out, I take off in search of Simon. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to catch up with him before he gets too far away.

He isn’t in our room, but his scent is strong here, which means he was here not long ago. I rush over to the window and look out of it over the grounds to see if I can see him walking away, but he isn’t there. I’ll have to cast a spell then.

It works instantly, and I can feel Simon. He’s close. The spell starts to pull me towards him, and I take off out of our room, practically flying down the steps. I’m not sure my feet even touch the ground, but I don’t have time to stop and think about that because I have to reach Simon before it’s too late.

The spell is leading me towards the gates. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to get through with one of the Mage’s gates standing guard, but I will do whatever it takes, including spelling the idiot out of my way if I have to.

I don’t have to worry about that, though, because there’s no one there.

That’s strange, I think. There has been someone standing there every day since eighth year began, so something must have happened if the station has been abandoned.

I slow as I reach the gates to open them, and I take a moment to recast the spell to strengthen. It feels like I’m close to him, but it doesn’t feel like Simon has moved any farther away since I initially cast the spell. If there was a threat this close to the school, you would think that the Mage would have raised some kind of alarm, but he doesn’t even have anyone at the gate. It just goes to show how terrible he is at his job.

I continue to follow the pull of the spell, and it brings me to the road, then across it, then to the woods on the other side.

I can hear some sort of commotion now, and I pick up my pace. I have to help Simon. He probably won’t want it, but that’s too bad. I would die a thousand times over in order to protect him. I will not let him die if there is any way that I can prevent it.

When I reach Simon, there is no sign of the Mage of any of his men. It appears like they abandoned him here to handle this threat on his own. It’s unbelievable.

Simon is being surrounded by dozens of goblins, all of whom are vying for his head. He is doing his best to fight them off with his sword, but it isn’t enough. He’s fighting a losing battle.

One of the goblins has managed to get behind him and has a knife raised over him, ready to attack. Before I even have time to think about it, I have summoned a ball of fire in my hand, and I send it soaring in the goblin’s direction. It makes a contact, and with nothing more than a shriek, the goblin catches fire then disintegrates into ash.

Simon spins around to see what happened, and he’s understandably shocked to see me. “Baz?”

“Watch out!” I shout, rushing forward to cast a spell at a goblin that lunged at Simon as soon as he turned his back.

I keep casting spells and sending fire at the remaining goblins, and once Simon recovers from his shock, he turns to fight with me, swinging his sword wildly about, beheading one gobbling after another. He’s brilliant at it, and I almost wish I could stop and watch him in action.

We fight side by side, killing goblin after goblin, but our efforts seem futile because the goblins just keep coming at us, spilling through the trees on all sides, forcing Simon and I to stand back to back. It doesn’t look like we’re going to make it out of here alive, but we can’t give up.

One of the goblins manages to knock my wand from my hand, and I curse under my breath. I can summon my fire without it, but as the goblins close in on us and I start to grow tired from so much use of magic, I’m not sure how longer I can keep doing it.

The goblins manage to get a few good hits and cuts on us, and the smell of Simon’s blood forces my fangs to push through my gums. I could bite them, but goblins are foul and bitter tasting beings. Plus, it would leave me open to attacks from the others if I got distracted by one of them.

“You should go,” I hear Simon say behind me.

“What?”

“You’re stronger than I am. You’ll be able to make it out of here alive. Just go!”

“I’m not leaving you here! You will never be able to defeat them all on your own.”

He’s quite for a moment, and I hear a demon cry out as Simon stabs at the same time that I shoot some more fire at the ones in front of me. It’s getting harder to summon it; my magic is starting to run low. But I won’t run. I won’t leave Simon behind. I could never live with myself if I left him here to die.

“We just have to keep fighting. Someone will come help us eventually.” I don’t even believe it as I say it.

“Who? No one even knows we’re here.”

“What?! I thought the Mage sent you here.”

“He did, but he said that he had a more pressing matter to attend to. There were only a few goblins at the time, and this is my responsibility. It’s me they’re after. Which is why you should go. It’s not you they want. They’ll probably just let you leave.”

If I make it out of this alive, I am going to murder the Mage.

“I’m not leaving you!” I repeat. I look around for my wand, but I don’t see it. The next flame I summon is barely more than an ember, and it only injures the goblin in front of me, rather than killing it.

“I’m sorry, Baz!” Simon shouts, and the tone in his voice worries me.

“Why are you sorry?” I shout back, whirling around to see what he’s about to do.

That’s when everything goes black.

***

When I come to, all I see is trees.

With a groan, I force myself to sit up. There is a pounding in my head, but most of my other injuries have already started to heal. I look around and am relieved to find that Simon is lying beside,

“What happened?” I asked. “The last thing I remember is you apologizing.”

“I went off,” he says, grimacing like he hates to admit it. “I tried not to because I was worried that you would get hurt. That wouldn’t have been a problem if you had run like I told you.”

“I couldn’t leave you there!” I say, angry because he actually believes that I could just abandon him like that.

“Why not?”

“Because I--.” I cut myself off before I can finish that sentence.

“You…what?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t want you to die, alright?” I look away, but then a thought occurs to me. “Why did you care whether or not you hurt me?”

“If you died because of me, I would have a lot worse problems than a horde of goblins attacking me,” he says, but the blush on his face tells a different story.

He’s right, though. If I had died, Simon would have instantly moved to the top of Fiona’s list, right above the Mage, who is coincidentally now at the top of my own list.

“Look,” Simon says, “none of this matters. We made it out alive. Now, we can go back to trying to kill each other instead of nearly getting killed by other things.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” I mutter under my breath as I push myself to my feet, but somehow, Simon hears me.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” I start to walk away from him, back in the direction of Watford, but Simon stops me by grabbing my arm and pulling me around to face him.

“Baz…. Why did you come out here? Why did you try to help me fight the goblins when you could have let them kill me and been rid of me for good?”

“Because I don’t want you to die,” I hiss. “I actually care about whether you live or not. Unlike the Mage.”

He makes a face at that last remark but apparently decides to ignore it for now.

We’re standing barely a foot apart, and his hand is still on my arm. I could turn and run from him, but instead, I allow him to pull me closer. Because I’m weak.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to die either.”

My breath catches, and my heart skips a beat. I know that it doesn’t necessarily mean that he likes me, but it’s progress. It’s better than him hating me.

He gives my arm another tug, and we’re so close now that I have to tilt my head down to look at him. He brings a hand up to rest gently on my cheek, and I can’t help the sigh that escapes me at his touch. I lean down until our noses brush but stop there, meeting his eyes. The world seems to have disappeared around us, and it’s just him and me.

Whatever happens next could change things forever. I just wish I knew what he was thinking.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and then I know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Yes,” I breathe.

Then he kisses me.

It’s soft yet passionate, fast but gentle. His lips part around mine in a sigh, and it is the best thing that I have felt. I feel like I’m flying for the second time today, and I wonder at how Simon can make me feel like this. Like nothing else in the world matters, which feels so true.

I love Simon. He is the most important thing in my life, and I will never let anything bad happen to him for as long as I can help it. I will keep loving him and protecting him until the day I die.

[sourcherrymagiks]

Following on from @adamarks amazing ‘will Baz drink Simon?’ discussion earlier I dug out this old draft of a thing. So here it is.

Baz

Everything feels sore, bruised, fucked. I try to roll over but it’s too much so I indulge myself in a heartfelt groan instead. Simon is on me in a second.

“Love, Baz, I’ve got you, it’s ok, you’re ok, deep breaths ” he’s stroking my face, looking so worried. I want to give him a snarky answer so he calls me a bastard and looks less concerned but I can only manage another groan.

“We can’t heal you love, I think it’s because of the magic, I’m so sorry, I didn’t, I wouldn’t have” He looks so broken up and tearful that it’s all I can do not to drag him down into a kiss. The scar he got in the battle at Watford is hypnotising me and I want to lick it (Merlin I’m disturbed). But actually I can’t move so it would be, quite literally, all I could do.

“Not your fault Snow, mine” I croak out

He half smirks at the ‘Snow’

“Do you have to be such a twat all the time Pitch?” And the he kisses me so gently and everything is right in my world again.

Except for the aches in my everything.

Penny

“What was that Simon?” I need to corner him the second he leaves Baz for a moment and catch him off guard.

“Dunno Penny, what was what?”

I have to remind myself to be a little bit patient with him but I want to strangle it out of him. That was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen and I’ve been his best friend for years. That’s a lot of insane things to compare it to.

“Simon, please correct me if I’m wrong but did you or did you not just channel Basils magic into a weapon?”

“Oh, right, that, yes, um, we” big breath in “we have been sharing magic for a while, normally we can only do it when we are a bit” he looks at his feet as he shuffles them a bit “worked up?”

I mime gagging and he smiles at me.

“So you two just defeated the bad guy with sex magic? That you can weaponise?” I try to keep it a bit light and teasing but this is crazy.

“Not just sex Penny, get out of the gutter, also when we are,I dunno, close? Is that right? Baz could explain better”

I’m worried about Baz, no healing spells seem to be helping. He can’t stay awake long enough to explain how it hurts. I think we just have to wait for his magic to recover.

“Penny, do you know how, how I could get blood for Baz?”

“No Simon, he wouldn’t want that. He would hex me if I let you do that!”

“Not your call Penny, I can’t watch him like this, not when I could help”

I’m going to give in eventually because he’s right. It’s the best chance Baz has. But he is going to be so pissed at us. And he can be a right handful when he’s angry.

Simon

It takes me ages to get the cannula into my arm. Shep says I’m being too forceful and takes over eventually. Next time I’m just going to use my sword and let Penny heal it after. It seems to take another million years to get enough blood out of me to fill the bag. Then Penny insists I eat something (It’s weird that I’m not that bothered about eating right now) while she takes the blood through to Baz but I’m not far behind, stuffing biscuits into my mouth. I press myself up against him as he drinks, I want to warm him from the outside and the inside. His eyes are flat dull grey and he’s pale even for him. There is something a bit unexpectedly sexy about watching your vampire boyfriend drink your blood. Maybe next time we can use a more direct method to get my blood into him.

Baz

This tastes amazing. It’s sending tingles through me and I give a little shudder Snow looks flustered, he’s pressing even closer than usual, warm and soft. If I’m not mistaken he’s blushing.

Penny looks anxious and all of a sudden the realisation of what has just gone on hits me.

“You absolute moron Snow, what were you thinking. And you Bunce, we will have words, I can promise you that”

My voice is as cold as I can make it and they both shrink back a bit.

But Crowley I feel better, I feel amazing, I feel like I could cast a sonnet and hang the moon. I feel like I could pound Simon into this bed until we both scream. I should send them both out now and let them stew in fear but instead I put my hand into Simon’s and kiss him.

Bunce backs out of the room as I throw my leg over him pinning him to the bed.

The gorgeous fucking disaster has the front to thrust his hips up into mine and asks “Feeling better Pitch?”

“You are an actual fucking nightmare Snow, what did you think you were doing?”

He gasps at me but I doubt it’s because I’m using my best Grimm-Pitch chill, it’s more likely because I’m grinding into him and I’m suddenly and painfully hard.

“I’d think,Pitch, that as I’ve just healed you with my magical blood you could stretch to calling me Simon”

It’s my turn to gasp as his mouth goes to my neck and he bites down hard.

“Since when (Aleister Crowley that came out embarrassingly high pitched) do you call me Pitch?”

He’s so close to me, breathing in my ear, hands on me everywhere, driving me insane in every possible way.

“Since it makes you unhinged, Pitch”

He whispers ‘Pitch’ across my collarbone and he’s not wrong, I’m unhinged.

Simon

I should take a second to check he’s actually well enough for this but then he flips us over and I guess that means he is. And anyway I seem to have his pyjama top unbuttoned and my mouth on his chest so its definitely too late now. I stop for a moment to look into his stormy grey eyes that are alive again, dancing shadows, so many shades of grey, I could get lost in them. Except he’s hard against my hip and tugging my curls and I need to snog that smirk right off his face.

“My turn darling” I whisper in his ear and flip us over. I feel him shudder against me and he’s warm, so warm.

I slide my hands over his back and dip down under his pyjamas, grabbing his hips. I roll off him to drag them down and he laughs at my clumsy tugging.

While I’m off him I take a second to pull my own clothes off in an equally clumsy way, I throw myself over to the bedside cabinet and grab the lube. I look at him expecting more laughter or a sarcastic comment but he looks drugged and hungry.

I can’t keep my hands off him any more I lick up the inside of his thigh and he gives a satisfying groan when I reach up and start rubbing his cock. God he’s bewitching, I can hardly catch my breath. I lick up, further up. He’s writhing under me, pulling at my hair, babbling my name

Baz

This boy is going to kill me, it’s actually going to end in flames. He’s doing indescribable things to me. When I feel the chill of the lube against my skin it catches me off guard, I’m so warm after his blood, I’m never this warm.

Then he’s easing his finger inside, melting me. He’s pushing up, exploring everywhere until he hits the spot that makes me cry out. Then there’s another finger alongside it, rubbing, pushing, making my hips buck upwards. He moves his mouth to lick my cock and takes me into his mouth. I don’t stop myself from thrusting into his mouth as he hums around it. When his third finger goes in I’m so ready for it, shamelessly fucking myself on his fingers and into his mouth. It’s so hot, everything is so hot.

Simon

I need, I need this, every moan and thrust is driving me over the edge. I kiss the tip of his cock as I pull off and out igniting a stream of protests. I shove a pillow under his gorgeous arse, (seriously it’s a work of fucking art) and line myself up. I’m shaking with desire.

“You ready love?” The answering moan is more than enough encouragement, I’ve made Basilton Grimm-Pitch speechless, he can’t use his words and I love it.

I push forward and the resistance is almost too much and then it’s not, then its everything. Each tiny move forward is sending surges of want through me. Baz is gripping my hips so tightly, pulling me into him, I’m happy to let him.

“Simon,Simon please, please, fuck me”

So I do

I thrust into him over and over and over until I feel it building impossibly inside me.

“Baz, I’m gonna, can I come?” He pulls me closer and I unravel, coming hard into him, hot and hot and hot so hot everything is so hot.

I reach down to finish Baz off, he feels as hot as me then even hotter as he comes over my hand and his belly. The whole room is hot. I kiss him and there are sparks between us, fire.

“Shit Baz sorry, your flammable, I didn’t mean to set you on fire”

He laughs as he kisses me again “Too late for that love”

[thesmalltowngal]

Snowbaz 31- Our Purpose

OTP Prompt #31: The night after Simon shows Baz the stars, Baz can't help but ask for it one more time.

~ So I was having some major troubles writing the current request that I'm working on, so I decided to get the creative juices flowing by writing a paragraph of something I couldn't get out of my head. This what that paragraph turned into. I'm very unsure about this one, and I've been having a bit of a rough go of it lately, so some love in the comments would be really appreciated, if you wouldn't mind. I hope you guys enjoy! :) ~

*Simon's POV*

"Sim- er, uh, Snow. Well I was wondering. I was wondering, if, perhaps, maybe-" I dunno what I've done. I think I've broken him. Baz stumbled in our room early this morning, while I was getting ready for breakfast. He came in, and started rambling about Crowley knows what, and Baz never rambles. He's too bloody perfect for that. But now it seems like he can't stop rambling, which I don't know what to make of. I'm making an utter mess of my tie, and although he'd usually make a remark about my oafishness, he just continues to bluster.

It's my turn to be an insufferable prat, I s'pose. "Spit it out, Basil." He flushes (he must've just fed) and looks down at his feet. The tosser isn't even looking me in the eyes. (We used to never make eye contact when we fought, really. Started only just fifth year, and then I realized his eyes made him right fit, so why ignore them?) Baz moves to sit on his bed and he seems... nervous. Like he might just go off at any second, so I change tactics and move to sit next to him. (Another sure sign of him being off? He's letting me sit on his bed.)

He takes in a breath and composes himself. He still doesn't bloody look at me, but I look at him. Which is right weird, innit? Don't care. "When I was younger, my mum-" He stammers and looks somewhere near my face briefly, before continuing. "She used to tell me about how bright the stars were. Always said she'd take me to see them one day." He lets out a small, pitiful laugh, which is wrong for many reasons. Baz doesn't laugh. And Baz most certainly is not pitiful. I'd said so once, and he nearly shoved me into the floor right there, anathema and all. (I s'pose he could be telling me this to get sympathy. For his plotting. Why else would he tell me about his mum?)

"I'm sorry... about your mum, Baz." Even if he's plotting, it's the least I can say. I know he must miss her, though I've never had a mum, so I dunno what that'd feel like. Right sad, I s'pose.

He waves me off. "Anyway... obviously, she never got to stick to her word," He looks up at me then, right in the eyes, before looking away. He doesn't want to be telling me all this, I can tell. But... maybe he needs to. (He's plotting, my brain reminds me. Right. Plotting. Of course.) "But last night, Snow. Last night I got to see the stars, if only for a moment." I've got no idea where the loon is going with this. We saw the stars last night yes, but what does that have to do with my missing a spot of brekkie? (The scones are calling me.)

"Okay? But I don't-"

"Hush up a minute, Snow." He sneers, back to himself a bit. Some part of me is relieved, seeing him back to his snarky self, even if he is a complete prat. "So I was wondering, if we are on a... truce, of sorts... would you- er - could you-" He groans and runs a hand through his hair. (It's not slicked today. He should wear it like this more- it's less posh. Makes him look more fit than usual, which is hard to do. For a bloke, anyway.) He sets his jaw, and whatever's coming, I know I won't be able to say no. (Unless I think it's part of his plot.) He looks at me, and with resolution I've not heard from him before, he says, "Just this once, Snow, could you take me to see the stars again?"

I dunno what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. He wants me to take him back to the stars. Part of me knows it's a bad idea. He's my enemy, and more than likely he's taking notes for his bloody plot. He'd have full access and ability to catch me off guard and kill me at any moment. And, to top it all off, I'd be missing food! All so he can... see the stars with me? (Not with me. Because of me. I'm his only resource. Not with me.)

Which is why what comes out of my mouth next seems to surprise us both. "Of course I will, Baz." And I take his hands. (It's like they move with minds of their own.) I s'pose breakfast can wait a bit.

*Baz's POV*

I don't know why I thought this was a good idea for even a moment. I should have thought it through- I always think these things through. Maybe it was the way the stars reminded me of mother, or the way Simon's hand felt in mine - or even the intoxication of his magic - but something made me ask him to do it again. And even more surprisingly; he is. He's taken my hands and started filling me with his magic. Leave it to Snow to make me feel like an empty vast of nothing, waiting to be filled. (By him.)

"Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star." I cast. I only have to cast about two lines of the rhyme before the room around us falls away and we're floating in space. All around us, thousands and thousands of stars. But the only thing I can focus on is Simon. He's got his eyes closed and he's sat cross-legged, and his tie is haphazardly slung around his neck. His shirt is unbuttoned part way (he's always trying to kill me, the tosser) and his curls, as always, are tousled and bloody chaotic. But the thing that mesmerizes me most about him is the way he glows. He always glows (to me, anyway), but surrounded by these stars, he shines even brighter.

When I finally wrench my eyes from him (what a sad thing to do) to look at the stars, I feel Simon looking at me. His gaze is burning, as always, and I can only simply ignore it. All around us are supernovas, and stars light years and light years away. (And he's still watching me. Why is that?)

I turn my head back toward him. (It's a bit awkward, holding his hands while I plan on being rude to him. Even after all he's done... I can't help it.) "Can I help you, Snow?" He flushes red (I do wish I could see how far done the blush goes) and only shakes his head.

He thinks for a moment (unusual for him) before saying, softly, "Your mum really promised you that she'd do this for you?" I nod in response. We're quiet for a long while before he tugs my hands and I nearly sprawl on top of him. (It's hard to remember there's a bed under us. If I think about it for too long, the stars fade.) (He's a bloody wreck, he is.)

After a moment of adjusting, we're laying down, side by side, hand in hand. Looking up at the stars. I hear Simon say "There was something else your mum said..." I don't know what he's on about, but if it involves him keeping something about my mum from me, we're going to have larger issues. "She said to- to um, give you something." I'm focused on making sure the stars don't fade. I don't want to leave. I feel safe, here next to my enemy. (Merlin. Funny how that works, yeah?)

"Well? What is it? Come on then, Snow." He turns his head to look at me, and I do the same. (It's all I can do to keep the stars from fading and being replaced by blue eyes and bronze curls around us.) He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. My stomach twists (in a pleasant way or not, I'm not quite sure. In a way.) I can feel my hand shaking slightly in Simon's. Luckily, I don't sweat. I run cold, thank Merlin.

"She told me to give you that." He settles back against the bed and if it weren't for my superior hearing, I might not have heard him.

"Right, well. That's... thank you Snow." He looks over at me, but I don't look back at him, for fear of making the stars disappear. I know we can't stay here forever, but... I'd like to stay as long as I can. As long as he'll let me.

*Simon's POV*

I wonder how long he'll let me look at the stars with him. (Well. I'm more looking at him, but 's the same thing, innit?) This has been nicer than we've ever bloody been to each other, and it's... well it's not terrible, I reckon. He's not snapped at me, and he didn't make a move to kill me when I... well, when I gave him what his mother gave me. And he hasn't made a move to leave yet. Not that I like holding hands with my enemy looking at the stars, but, well. I s'pose it's better than having him plot.

When I look over, he's gazing up at the thousands - millions - of stars above us. He looks sad almost, but that can't be right. Baz is never sad. A complete arsehole, and maybe sometimes lonely, yes, but not sad. I never really thought him lonely, either. He has Dev and Niall, and in some fucked up way, he almost has me, too. I'm not saying I wouldn't kill him given the chance- but p'raps if he were in mortal danger I wouldn't just stand around. But I think that's what any decent person would do, even if the bloke was their enemy. (I think briefly about the fact that I'm missing breakfast, and my stomach's started to rumble, but I don't want to move. I'll think about why, later.)

I've been thinking a lot, lately. (Baz'd snort if I told him that. Well that's a first, Snow he'd say. Prat.) A lot meaning more than usual, and lately meaning since last night. Since we saw the stars the first time. I've been thinking about the stars, and Watford, and the Old Families, and him. Baz, I mean. About how all the stars have a reason, so we do, too. They're up there with a purpose, and I think that maybe we are too. What it is, I dunno, but... well I'm thinking maybe I don't want to kill Baz. And not because he seems to have gone a bit soft. Because I don't really want to. Why take away someone who has a purpose here? Who's a star? I'm not saying I want a bloody cuppa with him, and it doesn't mean I like him all the sudden. Just that maybe I want something new.

But I dunno. I think 's just me who wants that, anyway. Baz turns to me, and I've only just now realized I've been staring at him. (He's about to bite my bloody head off, I just know it.) "Thank you, Snow. Really... thank you." I dunno what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. I can only nod in response.

...

I miss brekkie... and teatime... and lunch, and dinner while I'm in the stars with Baz. It didn't really matter because whenever I thought of food, it appeared, anyway. My magic hasn't been exhausted yet, odd enough. The few times I conjured food for Baz, he wouldn't eat it, the stubborn prick. S'pose he'll just bloody starve. But instead of fighting him on it, I just frowned and he pretended not to notice.

We haven't talked all that much. I think it's because I don't wanna fuck anything up and have him pulling away. I like watching the stars. It's been so peaceful here with him, for the first time... ever, and for as long as he'll stay, I want him to. I know we'll have to leave this bubble of safety eventually. I just. Well, I don't want to do it now. (Crowley I wish it could last longer.)

But far too soon for my liking (I still put that into my box of things not to think about), Baz looks at me, and I feel the stars blinking out, one by one. "Snow, I think perhaps it's time we come down to Earth." Something twists in my gut, but I ignore it and pull my magic back in all the same. As fast as the stars had come, they disappear, and we're left in our very bland, but very familiar and safe room in Mummers. Nothing changed, everything untouched. (I wondered briefly if the stars were his plot to have someone come in while we were gone and steal my things. I didn't think about it for long.)

I'm faintly aware that we're still holding hands, and even though I pulled back, they still feel like magic.

*Baz's POV*

We're still holding hands, and true to supernovas, I think I may combust. This day has been wonderful, and I curse at myself for telling him to end it. But I realized that I got so much of Snow today - more than I ever could have asked for - that it wasn't fair to him. He bloody did it out of pity. He was lovely today- offering me food, letting me see the stars for my mum, kissing me, and staying with me the whole day. But I can't let myself be fooled by it; we're still enemies, and nothing more. He did this because he felt bad for the poor, motherless vampire who just wanted to see the stars for her. Well the toff can just bugger off. (I dreadfully wish he wouldn't, though.)

But he's looking at me now, and instead of telling him that he's dead from the neck up, I say, "Thank you again, Simon. For everything. For the stars," Even in the dark, I can see him flush. "I'm sorry I kept you-"

"Don't be, Baz. Wasn't any trouble. 'Course I helped." He sits up, dragging me up with him. He realizes that we're still holding hands and quickly pulls away, despite my (silent) protestations. (I suppose he's still repulsed by me. Figures.)

"It's just that..." It's all too much. Him doing this for me a second time. The whole day. It's too much and I'm still high off his magic, and he's right here saying that I shouldn't be sorry. I don't know whether to blame him, the magic, or the stars for what I say next. (Granted, they're all basically the same thing.) "Simon, you were the brightest thing in my day. And we spent it amongst the stars." He looks taken aback, and almost instantly I regret what I said. You're the brightest thing in my day? And we spent it amongst the stars?! It's a load of poetic tosh is what it is, and not even good poetic tosh. It's not even poetic! (Never mind the fact that I just confessed my largest secret to the one straight person that it's about.)

He doesn't react for a long moment, in which I spend sufferingly staring at his Adam's apple. "Listen Snow, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... it's just that-" I'm cut off by his lips on mine and his hands in my hair. I'm most definitely combusting, now.

I suppose it was a bit poetic then... wasn't it?

*Simon's POV*

I've found it. It's this. This is my purpose. My star. 

[snow-pitch-grimm]

Something I’ll Never Have

Summary: Baz and Simon have a fight while at Baz’s parents’ house. There are feelings.

BAZ

I slam the door behind me and stalk down the hall, feeling too angry to think clearly.

"Baz?"

I notice Mordelia standing at her door looking at me curiously.

Damn it to Hell! Are all my siblings up here. Did they hear us?

"Hello, Mordelia. What are you doing up here? Shouldn't you be downstairs,"

She nods, "I spilled something on my dress so father said I should change,"

So everyone else was still downstairs. Good.

"Are you okay, Baz?" asks Mordelia, quietly.

I smile at her, "I'm fine, Mor. Simon and I had a bit of a fight, that's all,"

"Oh. Ok," she says nodding. The answer seems to be enough for her.

"Now, let's go downstairs and make sure Fiona doesn't hex Father," I tell her.

She giggles and nods, tugging me all the way downstairs.

xxx

SIMON

The sound of the door slam resonates through my bones and I slump down onto the bed.

Damn it!

Great, I just had a big fight with my boyfriend and now I'm sitting in his room in his family's home while he's downstairs with his family. 

How wonderful.

I had been a little skeptical about spending the weekend here. Baz hadn't wanted to leave me but his siblings had begged and even his father had pulled out the 'I miss you, son" card. Feeling bad, I told him I'd come.

The family has been great so far. The kids are the same as before if a little taller. Fiona keeps teasing us, Daphne's being motherly and even Malcolm seems to like me now that I'm no longer connected to the murderous Mage (Penny's words. Not mine).

The problem turned out to be me and Baz. We had had an argument right before coming here, which lead to a stony silence filled car ride which lead to another stupid argument right now.

I sigh and take my phone out.

Baz, even when angry, is not cruel. He's not going to leave me alone in here too long. He'll probably just cool off for a little while and come and get me for dinner.

I text Penny but she's also spending time with her family this weekend so when she responds with ‘busy’, I don't tell her about the fight. I then see if any of my uni friends are free.

No luck.

I took out my laptop and tried to work on as assignment but couldn't concentrate. In the end, I flopped down on the bed to wait for Baz to come back.

Just Great

xxx

BAZ

My family knows something's wrong.

Daphne asks me to help in the kitchen, my sisters pick up on my mood and deliberately try to be cute. Fiona annoys my Father more than usual and he tries to be a good sport about it but his eyebrow keeps twitching, and frankly, it's as hilarious as it was when I was ten.

Slowly my anger ebbs away and I start to feel a little ridiculous. The argument wasn't even over anything substantial. We had tiff back at home and because we're both stubborn, neither one of us would apologize in the car which them translated into another stupid argument in my room.

Now, with a clear head, I can admit that I was just nervous at bringing Simon here but they were actually really great about it. So great that I was completely thrown. I pretty much reverted to my Watford persona, leading to Simon to push back. Hence the yelling match.

"Basilton?"

I look up and everyone's looking at me a little concerned.

"Daphne called your name four times, boyo. You alright?" says Fiona

"Oh, sorry. Yes. I'm fine," I say, standing up, "I'm just gonna go see what Simon's up to,"

The adults quickly give each other a look.

Oh, how I hate that.

"Wonderful," says Daphne, "Why don't you bring him down here. Dinner is almost ready,"

I nod and quickly walk up out the room and up the stairs. It's quiet compared to downstairs and I start to feel guilty. I shouldn't have left Simon alone. This place is strange to him and it's my job to make him feel welcome around my family. My Father's 'Welcome again Mr. Snow. Please call me Malcolm' did a better job than me.

I take a deep breath and open the door not knowing what to expect. I peek inside and see Simon lying on the bed face down. I'm a little apprehensive but then Simon raises his head and blinks sleepily. Sighing in relief, I smile. His eyes are a little red but sleepy red and not crying red. More than anything, he just seems a little confused and touseled from his nap.

And he looks so adorable.

"Good nap?" I ask

He blinks again and sits up, "Yeah, I was going to wait for you but then I guess I fell asleep,"

I grimace, feeling guilty again.

"Snow I-" I begin

"Baz-" he starts at the same time

We grin at each other.

"You first," he says

I sit by him and take his hand.

"I'm really sorry. I was being stupid and ridiculous. Our fight was unnecessary and could have been avoided if I had just admitted that I was a little a nervous bringing you here,"

He smiles and squeezes my hands, "Me too, Baz. I guess it's just easier to revert to what we used to to do at Watford,"

I smile, "But we're working on it,"

"Definitely," he smiles and hugs me close

I press my face into his neck and take a deep breath. Simon's hugs are always nice.

The moment is interrupted when Simon's stomach rumbles loudly. Very loudly.

Simon pulls away laughing, "Oops,"

"Come on," I say, pulling him up, "Dinner's probably set up by now,"

My heart flutters as he slips his hand in mine and smiles.

"Let's go,"

SIMON

Dinner is quieter then lunch. Probably because the children are tired.

It would be fine. Except that Baz's parents and aunt keep glancing between us.

"So are you two finding everything fine?" asks Daphne

Malcolm and Fiona also look up from their food.

But not at me. They're looking at Baz. Because they're his family and they're worried about him.

I feel a knot beginning in my stomach.

"Of course Mother," Baz says to her.

She smiles brilliantly and finally their eyes turn to me. I quickly put on a smile even though my heart feels heavy.

Malcolm nods once more and goes back to his food. Fiona's eyes linger on Baz again. There's still a bit of concern there.

I don't think anyone's ever looked at me quite like that.

And with a sinking heart, I realize what I'm feeling.

Envy.

I hate it.

BAZ

Simon had told me he was fine and he had certainly seemed fine. That was until we got to the table.

Now we're sitting in my room and again I'm wondering what's going on.

"Snow?" I say as I watch him ruffle through our bag.

"Hmm,"

"Simon, please look at me,"

His shoulders drop and he sighs.

When he turns, I feel my heart stop.

He's crying.

"Simon, darling. What wrong?" I say, moving forward and trying to hold him.

He shies away from me though.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head, "It's stupid,"

"Snow?" I say as I watch more tears fall from his eyes, "Please. You're scaring me,"

"You're gonna think I'm being an idiot,"

"Never," I say fiercely, "Nothing is stupid if it makes you feel bad,"

"I tried to text Penelope after our fight. She wasn't available and neither were any of our other friends,"

I frown, "I thought you said you were fine,"

"I was- I am. This isn't about the fight Baz,"

"Then What-"

Simon hakes his head and pulls at his curls a bit. It breaks my heart to see him like this.

"I'm not doing this right," said Simon, fists clenched.

I gently take his hands away from his hair and turn him toward me.

"Take a deep breath and try again," I tell him

He complies and thinks for a moment before turning to face me properly.

"When you walked out of here, you were angry. What did you do?"

"I went downstairs talked with my family, felt stupid and came up here to apologize," 

"Right and remember the fight we had six months ago. What did you do?"

"Called Fiona and ranted,"

"Okay, and you know what I did?"

I shake my head.

"Today I tried to contact Penelope, it didn't work. That day she was there but she was studying so I told her I was fine even though I wanted to talk about the fight and its fine. It wasn't that bad, I barely remember it. But moments like that and this one make me realize what I don't have,"

"I don't understand, Simon," I tell him

"A family Baz," says, Simon, "I don't have a family,"

I'm stunned. This is not where I expected this to go. And honestly, I don't know what to say. 

Taking advantage of my silence Simon continues, "I don't have a mother I can call and say 'Hi mum my boyfriend is being stupid’ or a Father who can I let myself be distracted by. I don't have a crazy aunt that introduces me to hard liquor or extended family I can joke about. I don't have younger siblings that look at me like I'm the best and worst thing to happen,"

He wraps his arm around himself, "I don't have a family I can take you home to,"

Now I have tears in my eyes too and my heart feels like it's going to break. I had no idea Simon was feeling like this.

I gently touch his shoulder and he completely crumples into me. I pull his close until his upper body is resting against my chest, his face tucked against my neck.

"It's usually fine you know, I'm used to it. But today at dinner, they were all so concerned, even Malcolm. They tried not to show it but they were. We had a normal couple argument but they still wanted to make sure you were fine. And at times like that it all just hits me, you know,"

"Simon. I'm sorry. I shouldn't lt have left-"

He shakes his head, "No Baz. I told you I'm fine with that. I was asleep for most of it. And they're your family, you're supposed to feel happy around them. I just- It's something I'll never have and sometimes it sucks. And sometimes it just really really hurts, you know,"

He's crying again, soaking my sweater with his tears. I hold him close, giving him my shoulder to rest on. There's nothing else I can do. There's absolutely nothing in the word that can make this better.

So, I just hold him.

[fleursowl]

Hello! I actually have a snowbaz fic request- the idea of penny and maybe Simon being at watford and then casting a spell that makes them see the future sounds so interesting to me!!! Like, simon or penny just seeing Baz and Simon dating and etc and being like, wtf- thanks:)

yes yes YES i love this!! thank you for being my first official request 💞💞

Simon

“Come on, Pen, surely it can’t be too bad?” I pleaded, giving her my best pouty lip and puppy eyes from across the table.

“No means no, Simon.”

“But-“

Penny slammed her book down on the table with an exasperated sigh.

“Simon, time magick is dangerous. It’s unstable, messy, and can have disastrous consequences.”

“Everything we do is dangerous! Crowley, my existence is dangerous!” I argued. “I think it’s reasonable that I want to know at the very least if I’m alive in the next five years!”

It was playing dirty, but by the look on Penny‘s face, I could tell it had worked.

“Fine.” she snapped. “But don’t blame me when it goes wrong.”

“Oh, I assure you,” I snorted, “if it goes wrong it will most definitely be all my fault.”

Penny

Simon Snow will be the death of me, but he’s also my life. That is the only reason I am agreeing to this stupid charade. Of course Simon will be alive in the next five years, because I’ll be making sure of it. And unless I die (which won’t happen, my mum wouldn’t allow it) then he’s going to be here, alive and healthy for a very long time.

It’s only my ridiculous weak spot for him that is the reason we’re both in the library in the late hours of the night, reading every book we could get our hands on about time magick (there aren’t many- because it’s dangerous). A small noise to my left makes me look up, and I catch a glimpse of what I think could be Baz, before he disappears behind a bookshelf. I’m not going to mention it to Simon, though, because I seriously do not have the energy for another lecture on how I should be careful around him (me and Baz study together sometimes- he’s only of the only people who keep me sane in our classes). I sneak a glance at Simon, who is half asleep and barely even recognising the words on the pages in front of him. This is how I like him best. Content. Safe. Happy.

Baz

I don’t know what Snow and Bunce are doing, and I don’t want to. All I know is that they’re in the library late at night, when I want to be alone (my room smells far too much like Snow to serve as a distraction from him). I know Bunce has seen me, but I’m just praying Simon hasn’t. I really don’t have the energy to resist him right now.

Simon

I know Penny still thinks this is stupid, but she doesn’t get it. This is beyond natural curiosity and a hidden self destructiveness, I just need to know. She’s sitting on Baz’s bed (he won’t like that) frowning at the vial or black liquid like it’s insulted her and her entire family.

“What’s wrong?” I ask tentatively, hoping I don’t aggravate her further.

“This is illegal.” she huffs, her curls bouncing up off her forehead. “It’s dangerous, unstable, and-“ she sees the look on my face, and stops.

“Let’s do this.” she says through gritted teeth, picking up the mirror framed in silver (I don’t understand why it has to be framed in silver- Penny explained it was simple magic, but it doesn’t make sense) and placing it in the palm of my hand. She drips the liquid around the edges, her eyebrows furrowing together in concentration.

“Okay, it’s ready.” she says eventually, sitting back and pulling out her ring. “You have to concentrate for this part, Simon. Hard.” she gives me a stern look, and I nod earnestly.

“Go. You’ve got this.” I say reassuringly, and she snorts.

“I know I do, but...” what she doesn’t say is clear- but you haven’t got this. She doesn’t mean it unkindly, I know, so I let it go.

“Mirror mirror on the wall,

Will I rise or will I fall?” she says in a clear voice, following the path of the liquid with her ring. The mirror glows purple, and fog starts swirling around on it. I gasp in awe, and Penny nudges me, startling me out of it. I concentrate harder, and an imagine comes into focus.

It’s of a small kitchen in the middle of the day, with a pan on the stove bubbling away. Two figures come into view, and if I squint, I can make out one could be me.

So I survive, then I think, feeling dazed at this.

I look back, and see... is that Baz?

We’re both laughing, and I have him pressed against the countertop. That’s... strange?

“Your eggs are burning, Snow.” he smirks. Ah, so nothing has changed then.

Future-me grins back, and leans in further to him. My heart starts beating in my chest so loudly I can barely hear my reply.

“‘S not Snow anymore though, is it? It’s Grimm-Pitch now.” Future-me grins, closing the distance and pressing my lips against Baz’s.

I drop the mirror, and the connection goes, the mirror breaking into shards on the floor.

Seven years bad luck, a voice at the back of my mind reminds me.

I turn to Penny desperately for answers, and see someone else at the doorway.

Baz is standing there, frozen, his hair falling in his face and his eyes wide and scared.

“What... what the hell was that?” he splutters, and this takes me by surprise. Crowley, Baz must really hate the idea of ending up with me- he’s stuttering and swearing like a Normal. For some reason, my heart gives a tug at this, and I curse it. It doesn’t know what it’s doing.

Penny answers before I can, saving me. Again.

“It’s the future.” she replies smoothly, somehow giving us both a challenging look at the same time.

Baz chokes, and shakes his head.

“No, this is-this is revenge, for earlier this year, the Chimera, you- you-“ he seems unable to form anymore words, and turns on his heel and runs out of the room.

“Wait!” I yelp, and race after him, though I’m not sure why.

Baz

‘Grimm-Pitch. Simon Grimm Pitch.’ those words circle around my head; haunting me as I run to the library. Obviously I’ve thought about marrying Simon (as a fantasy, not a realistic hope) but I’m not lovesick enough to doodle our intials together, or anything. So hearing Simon- Future Simon- trick Simon- saying it has bowled me over.

I know I’ll be safe for a while in the library, because Snow is nothing if not predictable, and will probably assume I’ve gone to the catacombs. This will give me about ten minutes to cry, and another five to collect myself and pull out some homework, and a further two to form a mask of indifference.

However, I’m only five minutes into my allotted crying time, and a hand on my shoulder jerks me out of my misery.

“Baz, I-“ Simon begins, then looks closer at my face. “Crowley, are you crying?” he asks in disbelief.

“No.” I sniff, but it’s pretty obvious. My eyes are red and still watery, and my nose feels like it’s going to start running soon. In fact, you can still see the drying tear tracks on my cheeks. Great lying, Baz I curse myself.

“Yes you are.” Simon said firmly, sitting down into the chair next to me. His hand on my shoulder drops to my knee, and I flinch. There’s something that looks like a flicker of pain on his face, but it’s gone as soon as it came, and I must’ve just imagined it.

“Look, if the thought of being with me in the future is really that bad-“ he begins, and I curse.

“Crowley, Snow, I may be a lovesick fool but I’m not completely dense! It’s obvious that isn’t the future. You’re going to kill me, and ride into the sunset with Wellbelove. And I’m going to die. What you saw is impossible, and it’s a track. I mean, I knew you hated me, but to use my feelings against me? That’s low, even for you.” I ramble, waving my hands in the air.

Once I’ve finished my little speech, Snow catches my arms mid-wave, and uses this to tug me to him. Our lips crash against each other with all the elegance of a baby deer, but I don’t care.

Crowley, I’m kissing Simon Snow.

He’s doing this lovely thing with his chin, and I give up my battle for dominance, letting him just consume me.

Eventually we pull away for air, and his cheeks are flushed a beautiful colour.

“Look, Snow, I don’t-“ I begin, and he turns to me, smirking.

“It’ll be Grimm-Pitch one day.” he murmurs.

Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.

Very sorry this took so long, I had massive writers block for it! Hope you all enjoy 💞

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: here

Read the previous chapter (On Tumblr): here

Summary: “I’m egging your house for a dare, but you’re parent is a cop and now they’re yelling at me, so I told them you were my ex and you wronged me, and now you’re coming outside, so please just go along with this, I really don’t want to go to jail” AU When Simon Snow agreed to egg some posho’s house, he never thought he’d find himself here - The only thing standing between himself and a criminal charge, the word of a handsome stranger.

Chapter: 4/?

Words: 3,831

Baz

SS (20:14): What are you up to anyways?

ME (20:15): Well, I was reading a book. But now I’m talking to you ... Obviously.

SS (20:15): Oh shit, sorry. I can text you l8r if you prefer. I didn’t mean to bother you.

ME (20:16): No. Don’t worry, you're not bothering me. I wanted to talk to you … You’re far more entertaining than Austen, anyway.

SS (20:16): Okay cool :D

SS (20:16): Austen? Like ... Jane Austen? Is that for school?

ME (20:17): No. Just for fun.

SS (20:18): WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?

SS (20:18): I had to read Pride and Prejudice for the GCSEs. It nearly killed me!

SS (20:19): I’ve never really been the best at reading, but that just took the piss! I swear to God, I didn’t understand like half of the words!

ME (20:20): That's understandable, to be honest. I will admit that the language can be a little 'flowery' at times. If you’re not really into reading, Austen isn’t exactly the most accessible literature. The stories are good though.

ME (20:21): Did you watch the film?

SS (20:23): Yeah, no kidding. I despised that fucking book!

SS (20:23):  And, kind of. We watched, like, half of it in class, but we never finished it - Ran out of time.

ME (20:24): That’s unfortunate, it's pretty good, as far as adaptations go. I have the DVD somewhere. If I can find it, we could watch it together when you come over, if you’d like?

SS (20:24): Aw yeah defo :) That sounds good.

SS (20:24): Are you free tomorrow?

SS (20:25): Not for me to come over dw - I know you want to wait till your dad is away.

SS (20:25): If not dw. I know it’s a bit short notice. Soz.

ME (20:26): Don’t worry. I’m free, as far as I know. Why? What did you have in mind?

SS (20:26): I was wondering if you wanted to come play footie with me?

SS (20:27): Josh and Nathan are out.

SS (20:27): So it would just be us 2.

SS (20:28): If that’s okay with you? I know footie with just 2 is a bit difficult.

Pathetically, my chest surges at the sight of it … Just us two. It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.

BP (20:30): That’s okay, I’m sure it would still be fun - I’d like to come. What time were you thinking?

SS (20:30): 1:30ish. I can do later/earlier if it’s better for you tho.

BP (20:31): No, that won’t be necessary. 1:30 sounds fine.

SS (20:32): Okay good :) The pitch is a few mins away from the home. I could come and pick you up if you like? We could walk down together?

BP (20:32): Is my house on the way?

SS (20:33): Nah. Not exactly. I don’t mind tho it’ll only take, like, 15 mins more.

BP (20:34): I can just drive down to your house. There’s no need for you to go out of your way.

SS (20:34): Oh okay, sure. Sounds good :)

SS (20:34): Lazybones ;)

SS (20:34): Do you need my address?

BP (20:35): Yes, Snow. As talented as I may be, I’m not a psychic.

SS (20:35): Aha lol. Bigheaded much?

SS (20:36): I live on Pallot Road. Number 61.

SS (20:36): Do you know where it is?

SS (20:36): Idk the postcode off the top of my head. Soz.

BP (20:37): Yes, I know it. I’ll be there at 1:30.

SS (20:38): Cool. Can’t wait :)

I falter, unsure of how much of myself I’m willing to give away. I’ve never been good with openness - Hiding behind sharp words, and a false air of indifference. In that respect, I’m Snow’s antithesis. He’s a boy without walls - Open and forthright, to a fault. Defenseless, yet not afraid. I don’t believe that he’s ever tried to conceal any part of himself, around me - Even when we were literal strangers (Which, despite how it may feel, was barely a week ago). And, we’re certainly more than that, now (Well, I hope so, anyway). So why should I keep pretending? Why not just be real? Why not be a little more Simon Snow? I mean, he could hardly fault me for it - That would just be immensely hypocritical.

I type out my response in a rush, staring down the screen critically. Realistically, all I’m doing is parroting him. And while I know that, it feels like something much more. It feels like a partial admission of another truth. Another, much more frightening truth … That Simon Snow appears to have found himself in my affections, in a way that nobody else has before. That being with him makes my heart pulse, and my soul sing … That I’m a helpless, lovelorn fool.

Nevertheless, I scrunch my eyes closed, and hit send quickly (Before my courage, inevitably, dries up).

BP (20:43): Neither can I. It’ll be great to see you again.

————————————————————————————

He’s already standing outside when I pull up to his house. His bronze curls whipping around in the wind, messily, and a hand tracing the hem of his hoodie absentmindedly.

Shyly, I slide out of the car, and pace over to him.

“Good morning, Snow.”

“Hey, Baz!” he chirps, smiling over at me.

“You’re actually ready on time, this time. Congratulations!” I toy.

“Hey! Piss off!” He gruffs, sweeping his hair back, out of his face. “I was three minutes late. That doesn’t even count!”

“Au contraire - It most certainly does count. I was deeply inconvenienced by your casual approach to promptness. I had to sit on the stairs for a whole five minutes ... I looked like a complete prat.”

“Not my problem,” he shrugs. “You didn’t have to wait right by the door, you moron. That is completely on you.”

“Whatever,” I scoff, my face flooding with heat.

He lets out a laugh - Deep and rumbling. “You know for a smart guy, you really are awfully dumb sometimes, Baz”

I roll my eyes dramatically, unable to think up a comeback. Stumped, I decide to move the conversation forwards ...

“Have you got everything you need?” I ask, nodding my head towards the backpack in his hands - Not even bothering to question why he’s chosen to hold it that way.

“Yep. I brought a ball, and everything!”

“Perfect,” I mumble, nudging my hand against his, and pulling the bag from between his fingers. “I’ll just put this in the boot, and then we can go ... Hop on in, Golden boy.”

————————————————————————————

Simon

Baz is ruthless on the pitch (Just like I’d imagined he’d be) - Pelting across the grass at a breakneck speed, and booting goal after goal into the back of the net. Truly, He’s a sight to behold - All straining muscles, and wicked grins. I’d be basking in it … If I wasn’t so bloody annoyed.

He’s absolutely thrashing me (Of course) - 5 to Nil. It’s an absolute disaster on my end, having, apparently, lost any sort of scoring capability. And, to make matters worse, he’s not exactly coy about it - Assaulting me with a constant stream of ' Are you even trying, Snow 's and over-exaggerated, false yawns. Utter prat.

In my desperation, I stick my leg out in a particularly botched attempt at a tackle, accidentally clipping the back of his ankle, and sending him tumbling to the ground. Shit.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, squatting down onto the floor besides him, and flipping him over with a tug to his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry. I was trying to get the ball, I swear I didn’t mean to do that.”

He glares up at me, his full lips twisted into an acrid scowl. My stomach sinks at the sight of it. Shit. I’ve really fucked this up.

But then, he’s chortling heartily (Apparently incapable of maintaining his cruel act, any longer). His face scrunching up delightfully, as his eyes well up with joyful tears.

“What the fuck even was that, you complete barbarian,” he laughs, clutching at his stomach, stupidly. “Couldn’t stand losing, so you thought you’d just try knocking me out instead ... That is definitely a foul, Snow”

“I know, I know. It was an accident though, I swear,” I whine. “Just ... Shut up, and let me help you, you dick.”

I stick a hand out, pulling him up into a sitting position. He’s a mess - Small clumps of mud and grass clinging to his face, and a nasty, bloodied scraze disfiguring his knee. Yet somehow, even with all the marks of my stupidity, he still manages to look infuriatingly good.  

I take his face in my hands gently, tilting it towards mine. The laughter dies out, suddenly - His face falling marginally, as he goes eerily quiet. Unperturbed, I continue my ministrations, brushing my fingers across his face, sweeping away the debris as I go.

“I really am sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“It’s alright, Snow. I was only teasing. I know it was an accident. It’s fine, really, it’s just a little scrape - Nothing a wash and a plaster won’t fix.”

“Okay,” I huff, relieved. “I didn’t bring any with me, though ... But, there’s a first aid kit back at home. We could go and patch you up there?”

“No. If it’s alright, I’d rather do it back at my own house. It’ll be much less awkward that way”

“Oh,” I drone, my voice weak with disappointment. “Sure.”

How the fuck did I manage to mess things up so quickly? We were supposed to spend the rest of the day together (I mean, neither of us ever actually said that, but it was definitely assumed), and now, within one poxy hour, I’ve managed to kill all chances of that. I'm such a bloody idiot.  

“Cheer up, misery-guts,” he giggles, “There’s no need to strop - You can come too. You might just have to sneak in through the window, or something.”

“Okay, sure,” I beam, stupidly elated. “I can handle that.”

————————————————————————————

Baz

As it turns out, he really can't handle it.

“Christ, Snow,” I hiss. “You’re being way too loud. Shut up.”

“It ain't my fault! I don’t know why the fuck you thought I would be able to climb up this thing properly. It’s made for flowers Baz, not people!”

He has a point, to be honest. I knew that getting him up the trellis would be a challenge, but we didn’t exactly have many other options.

I thrust my hand out of the window, gripping onto his forearm tightly, and shifting my weight to support him properly.

With that, his body starts shaking violently, a poorly concealed chuckle escaping his lips.

“I told you to shut it, moron,” I scold (Although, there is no real malice in it - The smile is clearly audible in my voice).

“I’m trying, really. It’s just - It’s just this is like some shitty version of Romeo and Juliet, Baz. You can’t blame me!” He laughs. “It’s funny!”

“Yes well … Romeo was much more graceful about it than you!”

“Shhhh. I’m doing my best. I’m almost up! You should’ve gotten me a rope or something, it isn’t my fault!”

“Oh yes, Snow,” I deadpan. “Sorry. Let me go and grab the ten foot rope I keep under my bed at all times”

“Hey! I don’t know what kind of kinky shit you’re into! You could've had a rope lying around somewhere!”

I don’t even try and justify that with a response, choosing, instead, to focus on helping him up.

Eventually, we manage to pull him into the room - Snow plopping down onto the floor, with an unceremonious thud.

Laughing hysterically, he props himself up against the wall besides me, and rests his head against the side of my shoulder.

“Thanks for helping me up. I was so scared I was gonna fall back into that stupid rose bush.”

“It’s no problem. I didn’t really fancy having to explain to Father why you, of all people, were sneaking into my bedroom.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, his throat vibrating distractingly, against my shoulder. “You need me to help you with your leg?”

“No. I can handle it … I was going to have a quick shower, actually, if that’s alright with you? Get it properly cleaned up and everything, you know."

“Oh yeah, that’s fine,” He murmurs, lifting his head up, and shifting his body sideways (Away from mine). “What - I mean what am I supposed to do, though? Do you want me to hide somewhere?”

I puff out a breath, amused by his sincerity. “No, Snow,” I drawl. “You don’t have to hide yourself away in the wardrobe. You can just wait around here. Nobody is going to come in - Don’t worry.”

“Oh, right” He mumbles, glancing his eyes down towards the floor. “Cool.”

“Yeah. There’s plenty here to keep you entertained, though. You could play on the PS, or watch some TV … Or, you could read something, I suppose. Although, I know you’re not big on that.”

He smiles over at me, his freckled cheeks puffing out wide. It’s frustratingly adorable.

“Yeah, maybe not that. I’ll probably just watch TV, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” I say, jumping up, and treading over to the en-suite door. “I won't be long, though, honest - I’ll be back in half an hour, latest.”

————————————————————————————

It definitely took me longer than half an hour. Although, that was Snow’s fault entirely - His lovely tackle, had left awful clumps of mud matted into my hair, so I had to give it a proper wash.

When I step back into the room (My hair still annoyingly damp), Snow has got himself starfished out across my bed, his chin propped up in his hands. He looks completely at ease, laid out in my bed like that - Even with the, admittedly, rather intimidating decor of my room.

Stepping besides the bed, I scoop his legs up in my arms, and swing them over to one side of the bed - Making room for myself besides him.

“What are you watching then, Snow?” I ask, laying myself down onto the duvet.

“Dunno. Some crap cop show. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“No?” I ask, gasping with faux incredulity. “Would you like to play some FIFA instead? That way I can thrash you again, without sustaining any serious injuries.”

“Don’t be a wanker, Baz,” he scolds. “You know I didn’t mean to do that!”

“I know, I know,” I coo. “I’m only messing with you. Don’t stress.”

He glares at me, pouting his lips out, slightly. “Okay then,” he agrees, a sly smirk spreading across his face. “I actually play a lot of FIFA, you know. So, I reckon I’m going to enjoy beating you … Would serve you right for being such a cocky bastard!”

I raise my eyebrows in challenge, punching out a quick, mirthless laugh. “I’d like to see you try, Snow. Do your worst … We’ll see who comes out on top!”

————————————————————————————

For all my arrogance, I will admit that Snow was actually a very worthy opponent (Although, I’d never tell him that).

Considering that I’d been playing everyday for the last two months, I had assumed it would be an easy victory - But, as it turns out, I was wrong. He put up a more than admirable fight - Actually leading for the majority of the match. But, of course, I still managed to beat him - Hammering in a goal on the ninety-third minute (Much to Snow’s dismay).

“For fuck sakes!” He fumes, throwing the controller down onto the bed, childishly. “I almost bloody had it, as well!”

“There, there, Snow,” I tease, pressing a hand to his shoulder in a mocking comfort. “There’s always next time.”

“Piss off, Baz!” He whines, flopping back against my pillows with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve had enough of this shitty game!”

“Alright,” I breathe, slowly laying myself down besides him, as I desperately try to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside me. “Do you want to play a different game, then?”

“No.”

“Okay,” I drawl, my voice rising with uncertainty. “So … You want-”

“Just wanna stay here for a bit,” he gruffs.

“Okay. We can stay here, then.” I agree, my voice hushed.

As silence settles over us, I steal a glance over at him.

He’s got an arm stretched out over his face (The synthetic material of his football shirt, straining against his broad shoulders, perfectly), and beneath it, I can see the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Unobserved, I take my opportunity to scan my eyes over him, appreciatively. Sprawled out against my bed, he looks positively obscene. His hair mussed intoxicatingly, where it rests against my pillow, and every revealed inch of skin decorated with constellations of moles. For a moment, I envision pressing my lips against them, lavishing each and every mark with the attention they deserve, but I quickly restrain myself. Allowing my mind to wander now, when he’s so close to me, would be an irreparably idiotic move.

In an attempt to cool myself down, I flutter my eyes shut, and shift my focus onto the steady puff of his breathing - Slow and constant. In and Out. In and Out. In and Out …

————————————————————————————

Embarrassingly, I’m halfway to sleep when he speaks next.

“Baz?” he whispers, poking my arm lightly. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, my voice deep and lazy with tiredness.

“Okay. Cool,” he sighs. “Can - I mean, can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm. Of course” I hum.

“It's just that, I’ve been thinking … Did - Did you mean what you said the other day?”

I scoff, quietly. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, if you want me to answer that, Snow.”

“Right yeah. Obviously,” he huffs, clearly frustrated.

Opening my eyes, I tilt my head over to look at him - Our eyes meeting immediately. His deep blue boring into my grey. This close, it’s far too intense.

Caught off guard, and humiliatingly wonderstruck, I avert my eyes, focusing my gaze on the canopy of my bed, instead. I feel my face flush with heat, once again, and pray to God that he doesn’t notice. That would be the last thing I need, right now.

“I just - I mean what you said to your dad,” he continues, stammering slightly.

“What bit?”

“When you were all like - 'Oh don’t worry Father, he's one of mine',” he explains, making an absolutely atrocious attempt at mimicking my accent. “I just mean like - Do you really have lots of, like - I don’t know ... Guys?”

“No,” I drone. “There’s no one else ... Never has been. I just said that to get him off of your case. He doesn’t really like talking about that stuff, so I figured it would be effective.”

“Oh,” He breathes. “Okay.”

I pause, unsure of what else to say. The silence stretches between us painfully - Tangible tension flooding the air. And then, I feel it. It’s barely a brush at first - Easy to play off as a simple accident, given our close proximity. But then, he continues. Pressing our hands together more fervently - His skin impossibly warm against mine. It’s searing - The contact lighting me up from within, as hopeful sparks ignite within me.

I gulp, audibly. “Why?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“Just - I’m just like … Curious, I suppose,” he murmurs, his finger tip tracing it’s way along the side of my thumb. It’s feather-light, but it weighs like lead in my heart. And I think that, maybe (just maybe), he might be trying to tell me exactly what I want to hear.  

He presses on, nervously, his voice wavering slightly. “It’s just that -”

Suddenly, there’s a banging at the door - Loud and insistent.

Panicked, I shove him off of the bed, sending him flopping onto the floor with a girlish yelp. Biting back a laugh, I rush over to the door, and pull it open ever so slightly.

“Basilton. Dinner is ready. I don’t know what on earth you’re doing in here, making all that racket, but you need to come downstairs now,” Father chastises.

“Of course. I’ll be down in just a minute.”

“Alright. Hurry down though. Please don’t keep us all waiting. We don’t want to start without you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Father,” I taunt, my tone laced with sarcasm. He’ll definitely lecture me about that later (He’s never impressed with my 'petulant attitude'), but, right now, I don’t particularly care.  

Closing the door behind him, I scurry over back to where Snow is sat.

“You have to leave,” I whisper, rushing out the words with a frightful urgency. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time. You just - You really have to leave. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone ... So, you can't really stay.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hushes. “It’s fine. Don’t stress. Do you want me to go right now?”

“No,” I cry. “Just - Wait until I’ve been down at dinner for a few minutes - Then you can leave … That way, you can be certain nobody will be creeping around outside.”

“Okay, sure.” he says, smiling over at me.

Looking at him - I hesitate. “But - Are you sure you’ll be okay climbing? If you’d rather wait, I’m sure that I can find some other way to sneak you out, a little bit later. I could say I'm going out to the bin, or something. If you were quiet, we might be able to get away with it.” “Baz,” he sing-songs, teasingly. “I’m sure I can climb down without your help. It’s only one floor.”

“Yes well,” I deadpan. “Forgive me for thinking it may be best to find an alternative route. You didn’t exactly dazzle me with your speed or grace in getting up here.”

He snickers, squinting his eyes at me daringly.

“Yeah, but it’ll be easier going down. So chill. I can handle it - Trust,” he reassures. “You’ve seriously gotta go and get your dinner now, though. If your dad comes stomping up here to yell at you, it’s game over for me! And then fussing over this would've been entirely pointless”

“Okay,” I huff, standing and pacing over to the door, reluctantly.

Flashing him a quick smile, I call out a quiet “Message you later, Snow,”, and then, I leave him.

————————————————————————————

I’m just tucking into my dinner, when an almighty crash tears through the hush of the dining room. Of course, I know what it is immediately - Simon bloody Snow falling off of that god-forsaken trellis.

Fucking hell. I knew I should’ve tried to sneak him out another way.

I mean, what if he’s hurt himself? It’s not exactly a steep fall, but it’s certainly enough to do some damage. And the only reason he is even here, is because of my stupid, desperate plot to get to spend more time with him - And now, he's probably laying out there with a broken leg, or something. God. I'm such a selfish dolt.

Anxiously, I slide my phone out of my pocket, beneath the table, and hurry out a quick text.

ME (19:27): Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Do you need help?

I wait, holding my breath as my leg bounces under the table, impatiently.

SS (19:28): Nah. Don’t worry. I’m good.

SS (19:28): I might’ve killed your flowers tho :/

SS (19:28): Sorry!

I smile to myself privately - Doing my best to hide my grin behind my hand.

That bloody disaster is going to be my undoing, I swear.

[carryonsnowbaz]

For the prompt thing, is it okay if you do a combination of 41, 46, and 50? I think it would be really cute! I could totally see Simon being all affectionate while drunk❤❤

A/N: I loved this combination. Thank you!!  I was going to post this last night, but I got a little carried away with it, and it became so long that it needed to be edited when I wasn’t half-asleep. I hope you like it!

Simon stumbles over his own feet and falls into him, and Baz can’t help but smile down at his boyfriend in adoration.

“Let’s you get you to bed, alright?”

“Mm,” he hums. “Okay, but you have to carry me.”

“I’m not carrying you again. Not after last time.”

Simon pouts but doesn’t push it. “Fine,” he says before leaning all of his weight against Baz, forcing Baz to support him anyway.

“How did you get home?” Baz asks curiously, adjusting his arm around Simon so that he can half-carry him to their room. “I thought you were going to call me if you needed a ride.”

“Aww. You were worried, weren’t you?”

“No,” Baz lies. “It’s just a huge inconvenience when I’m waiting up for you, and you don’t so much as call.”

“Aw I’m sorry. I promise that I’ll call next time.”

“Good. Now, seriously, how did you get home? You didn’t walk, did you?”

“Of course not. Penny’s fiancé came and picked us up.”

“He wasn’t drinking with you?”

Simon shakes his head wildly, nearly headbutting Baz. “It was just me and Penny.” He pauses, then asks, “Did you think I was with someone else, Baz?”

“No,” Baz says truthfully. He trusts Simon. He’s never had reason to doubt his affections or become suspicious of him. “I thought you were having some big celebration, though.”

“It was just me and Penny celebrating our friendship,” he says it in a various serious tone, and Baz wants to be doubtful, but knowing Simon, he’s probably telling the truth.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It was fun. You should have come with us.”

“I was fine at home. Maybe next time.”

Baz actually prefers to stay at home where it’s quiet, and there are far less crowds of people jostling around him. Sometimes just being around Simon is enough to wipe him out, and it’s nice to be able to relax by himself every once in a while.

He doesn’t mind having Simon around him when he needs to take a step away from other people, but Simon finds it hard to sit still for long periods of time.

They’ve found a way to make it where they’re both comfortable and get what they need. Simon goes out with Penny and occasionally a few other people, and Baz stays home, joining them occasionally when he wants to be around Simon or feels like going out.

It isn’t always a perfect arrangement, but it works for them.

“Okay.” Simon yawns, but then, as Baz helps him to their room, Simon starts placing sloppy kisses along his neck murmuring things like “you’re beautiful, lover” and “let’s sleep later.”

“You’re drunk,” Baz says simply, ignoring his boyfriend’s poor attempts at seducing him but still unable to hold back the blush he feels creeping up when Simon calls him “lover.” He loves each and every one of the pet names that Simon gives him. It makes him feel like Simon truly wants him, something he never thought possible when he was younger.

“So? That doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.” They’ve reached their room now, and Simon uses that as an opportunity to turn to Baz and kiss him, nearly missing his mouth. Baz allows it for a moment before gently pushing him away.

“You’re drunk,” he repeats. “I’m not going to take advantage of you in this state.”

“It’s not taking advantage if I’m offering.” Simon tries to move in closer again, but Baz holds him closer.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Anything for you, my love,” Baz says affectionately, unsure whether Simon will actually remember this conversation tomorrow.

Simon smiles brightly at him, and Baz can’t help but return it before he gently leads Simon over to their bed.

“Get in bed,” Baz says. “I’m going to go get you a glass of water.”

“You’re the best,” Simon slurs, hugging Baz tightly. Baz rolls his eyes again before extracting himself from Simon’s grip and walking out of the room, trusting that Simon can get himself to bed.

When Baz returns with the glass of water, though, Simon has collapsed on top of their bed, fully dressed, his wings, visible again now, stretched out to full length across their bed.

Sighing, Baz moves to set the glass down on the bedside table before going to help Simon.

“You have to take your clothes off,” he says, tugging on Simon’s arm.

“Too tired,” he groans.

“You can sleep in a minute, but you have to get undressed first.”

“You just wanted to see me naked,” Simon accuses, slowly coming up to a sitting position.

“No, I just don’t want your shoes in our bed.”

“Liar.”

Baz doesn’t respond to that. He just silently helps Simon remove his shoes, trousers, and shirt, leaving him in just his pants.

Simon immediately collapses back onto their bed, and Baz has to work to get the blankets out from under him and over him instead.

“Drink some water,” Baz says, holding out the glass.

“Bossy,” Simon slurs, but he does as Baz said before falling back into bed, rolling to face Baz’s empty side of the bed.

Simon starts murmuring things, more to himself than to Baz, as Baz gets ready for bed. When he finally climbs into bed, he’s still not really listening to Simon, but he seems to have grown serious now, and Baz knows that he missed something important that Simon said.

“I’m sorry?” He asks as he turns out the light and rolls over to face Simon. When Simon repeats what he said, Baz sort of wishes that he had left the light on so that he could see his face, see if he’s really serious.

“One day we’ll get married and have children of our own.”

“I–.” Baz is at a loss for words. He never knew that kids were something Simon wanted. They never really talked about it.

They’ve been together for a few years, so the topic of marriage has come up a few times, especially after they’ve talked with Penelope and Micah about their upcoming nuptials. Neither of them seems particularly opposed to the idea of marriage, but they also haven’t actually talked about getting married to each other.

“It’s okay,” Simon murmurs, breaking Baz out of his thoughts. “I know that when we get engaged, it will be after some magical proposal that you do. I wasn’t asking you to marry me. Although, I wouldn’t say no if you asked me. Just so you know,” he adds, and Baz finds himself grinning into the darkness.

Baz wants to tell him that he’s drunk again, but his heart is singing because of what Simon is saying. Simon is right about him wanting to do a special proposal, but he’s never told him that, so Baz wonders how he knows.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Baz says, leaning forward to kiss Simon gently on the forehead.

Simon keeps quiet after that, so Baz rolls over and allows Simon to pull him up against his bare chest, the warmth of it heating Baz up.

This place in Simon’s arms feels like home, and he never wants to leave. He does want to ask Simon to marry him and maybe even have kids with him someday, but right now, this right here is enough.

Baz has almost drifted off to sleep when Simon speaks again.

“I can’t believe I get to wake up to you every morning.”

Baz rolls his eyes at the sappiness, but secretly, he’s just as happy about it.

“Me neither,” he replies. “Now go to sleep.”

Prompt List

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Back to Haunt Me

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 12301

Summary: Simon Snow hasn't heard from his former roommate in years. So when he gets a call from him, he's equal parts confused and intrigued. Based on "I called you at 2am because I need you" request from @god-themself

Read on AO3

AN: I'm really sorry for how long these requests are taking, oy. Every time I start writing, the fic ends up getting longer and my stupid body decides to crap out and not work. Anyway, here's the latest fic. Hope you enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

I’m sitting upside down on my couch when I get the call.

It’s not something I do too often, just when I’m really, really stuck on something. I say that ideas pool in my feet and this lets them trickle down to my head. Penny thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous. She says it will give me headaches, and it does, but it also helps. I’ve been stuck for an hour on coming up with new lessons. This is my last resort.

So I’m laying upside down on my small couch, legs up in the air, face turning a very bright shade of red. My glasses slipped off a while ago, making me essentially blind to anything more than five feet away. My mind is swimming with new ideas for maths games and art projects, the mental images almost swirling past my blurry vision.

And when I’m deep in contemplation a new history Kahoot, my phone blares out my “Toxic” ringtone. (Britney is amazing and haters can fuck off.) I flip up way too fast, making my vision spin like water in a toilet bowl. I paw at my phone while I wobble back and forth. With the combination of my glasses on the floor and blood rushing from my head, I don’t bother to read the caller ID. Or lack thereof.

“Hello?” I say shakily, still clutching my head.

“Siiiiimon,” a low, slurring, strangely familiar voice says. Is a student prank calling me again? Dammit, I thought I scolded them enough.

“Jeremy, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. This is my personal mobile and you-”

“Aw, did you already forget me, Snow?” the person continues, and my heart suddenly freezes. “It hasn’t been that long has it? Only seven years.”

My jaw drops and I sit ramrod straight. Every vein in my body turns ice cold. Holy. Fucking, Shit. “Baz?!”

“Yes, it is I. Good evening, Snow,” he snorts, but there’s still that weird waver to his voice.

“A-Are you drunk?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner in every category,” he giggles. Fucking giggles. I don’t think I ever heard him let out so much as a chuckle in all the years I lived with him. He must be very drunk.

“Um, how did you get my number?”

“Remember when you got mysterious calls supposedly from the Babadook when we were fifteen? Surprise! That was me! Got your mobile off the school registry.”

My mouth falls open even more. “I knew that was you!”

“Duh!” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Shush! Yes, I actually have him on the line. I’ll get him to come.” He’s definitely not talking to me. He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Snow. Super sorry, for everything I did back in school. So please don’t hang up.”

Admittedly, I was going to. But he sounds so pathetic and drunk, so I stay on. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’m still here.”

“Hooray!” There’s a short stretch of silence. He doesn’t continue, so I have to pipe up again.

“Baz,” I say, “not to be rude, but, uh, why are you drunk calling me? We haven’t seen each other in awhile and it’s...” I scramble to grab my glasses, then look at my wall clock. “After two in the morning. Plus, you like, hate me.”

“No,” he slurs out. He sounds well pissed. “I don’t hate you, Snow. You’re too much of a kind brave hero to hate.”

“Um, thank you?”

He laughs loudly. I’ve heard him laugh more in the last five minutes than I did our entire childhoods. “You’re very, very welcome.”

Again with the silence. I can’t believe I’m the one talking more between us. “So... why are you calling? You wanna catch up or something?”

Baz lets out a long, low groan. For some reason, I imagine him slumping against a wall or something. “I bloody wish. Stupid barkeep won’t let me leave until I call someone to get me and my stupid friends and stupid aunt won’t pick up.”

“So you decided to call me?!”

“You’re the only other person I know who lives in London.”

“Who told you I lived in London?”

“Aggie. Said you had a cute little flat and a cute little cat.” He giggles, and I can almost picture a dopey smile on his usually frowning face. It looks so weird and wrong. “Hey, that rhymes.”

I sit even more upright. “Wait, Aggie? As in Agatha?! Are you two dating now?!”

He scoffs. Now that really reminds me of our school days. “No, Snow, I’m not dating your ex. She’s not my type.”

“That’s rude. Agatha is very pretty.”

“I mean that she’s not a man, Snow.”

My face immediately turns scarlet, and this time not from being upside down. “O-Oh. You’re gay?”

“Once again, duh!”

“Fuck off, you flirted with her all the time!”

“Nuh-uh.” He sounds like a bloody obnoxious American. “Not really. Just did that to piss you off.”

“I’m hanging up,” I growl.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as I move the phone off my ear. “Please don’t hang up, Simon. Fucking hell, I need you.”

I seriously debate actually hanging up. But there’s something in his voice that tugs at my chest. It’s weird and explainable, but it’s there. I slowly bring the phone back to my ear. “You need me?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “I’m drunk as fuck and uh...yeah, I’m still bleeding.”

My pulse goes wild instantly. “Bleeding?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yeah, but you should see the other bloke,” he laughs proudly. “Bartender says if someone doesn’t pick me up and take me home, she’s calling the police to come get me. Doesn’t trust me with an Uber or something.” Baz makes a weird yet familiar sound. Is...is Baz Pitch sticking his tongue out at someone? What the fuck has happened in the last seven years?

“Alright,” I sigh. “Where are you?”

“Yay! I am...” He takes a long pause, which gives me time to rub my aching temple. “Hey, where am I?”

There’s more rustling and some muffled yelling. “He’s at XOYO,” a stern woman’s voice says. “32-37 Cowper St, second floor. We’re closing in an hour so get here soon.”

Before I can say anything else, the phone clicks off. I stay frozen for a moment. My brain is still playing a bit of catch up. So, Baz bloody Pitch has called me out of the blue after seven years, drunk off his arrogant arse, apparently gay, and needs me to pick him up. And now he’s sorry for being a dick to me through our entire time in school? That’s nice. Few years too late if you ask me, but better late than never I suppose.

I look down at all my notes, the ones I have to finish in a few weeks before the new school year. If I were a worse person, I would forget about Baz, finish my lessons, and just go to bed. He’s my former bully, I shouldn’t care. But when I think about Baz, drunk, bleeding, sitting there alone at a bar waiting for me but I never show up, my stomach plummets to the centre of the Earth.

Godammit.

I march towards the door, grab my keys, and set out to fulfill a bad idea.

Turns out this bar is right in the middle of bloody Shoreditch. Which means at this time of night (or morning), there’s lots of closing nightclubs and stumbling drunk people being sick on the sidewalk. Glad I didn’t take the tube.

XOYO is a mostly nondescript red brick building with some black panelling and a neon red sign. I park as close as I can, which is not that close. The stairs up to the club are steep and leave me panting by the end. Bloody hell, I need to get back to the gym. Chasing ten years old is not enough exercise apparently. The bar is one of those hipster places with wooden tables and old Victorian chairs and candles. There’s a few people passed out on tables, snoring with their beer glasses.

“Simon!” a familiar voice shouts from the bar. “Simon, over here!”

I turn to my left too look at the bar, and...wow. After seven years, Baz looks so different, yet so the same. Same sharp cheekbones, same long-ish raven hair, same deep sea grey eyes. He’s broader though, shoulders filling out his blood stained grey dress shirt. Far less gaunt and gangly and vampiric looking than he was in school. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Weird. Baz always had his uniform buttoned to collar in school. Then I have to do a double take, because...Baz Pitch is wearing jeans? They’re dark and expensive looking, hugging his legs, which still have a footballer’s strong muscles. He has a big, dopey, drunk grin, which is offset by the small black eye and blood trickling from his nose. It’s unfortunate this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.

I walk towards him, hands in my pockets, shoulders nervously hunched in. Why is my heart beating so fast? Bloody hell, calm down, Simon, it’s just Baz. You know him, probably better than most people. He’s an arsehole, not evil. And we haven’t had a physical fight since we were thirteen. Plus it’s been seven years, we’re adults now. He won’t bite. Hopefully.

“Hi Baz,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. “Uh, nice to see you.”

Baz squints at me, and a pang of panic shoots through me. Is there something wrong with my face? Bloody hell, what a cruel twist of fate it would be, to see my childhood enemy after years and have pizza sauce on my cheek.

“Um, Baz, you there?” I weakly wave a hand in front of him.

“Since when do you wear spectacles?” he asks, still slurring his words.

I instinctively touch my wireframe glasses, immediately self conscious. “Oh. Since first year uni. Turns out one of the reasons school Watford so hard for me was that I couldn’t read the board a lot.”

I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. I expect Baz to laugh or mock me like he used to. But instead he grins again, leaning his cheek on his bruised hand. “They look good.”

Why are my cheeks heating up? Must be bad air conditioning. “Um, thanks, Baz.”

He keeps grinning, showing off his sharp bright white teeth. (There’s a good reason I thought he was a vampire.) “Welcome.”

It goes silent again, with me standing awkwardly and Baz grinning. Christ, this is so weird. I assumed I’d never see Baz ever again, let alone drunk and bloodied in designer jeans. I have less of an idea what to do than usual.

“Ugh, finally!” a woman’s voice says to the side. I whip my head around to see who must obviously be the bartender. She’s got a deep scowl on her face and hands on her hips. “You’re Simon Snow?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I reply.

“Good. Please take this arsehole off my hands.”

Baz blows a raspberry at her like a toddler. Bloody hell, he is a weird drunk. The bartender glares and flips him off.

“I’ll get him out of here,” I say.

“Thank you.” She digs under the bar and takes out a sleek black iPhone. “Here’s his phone. Took it from him after he almost dropped it in a beer glass.”

“Alright.” My brow furrows in confusion. “Do you have Baz’s keys? Or does he still have them?”

“He never had them. Searched all his pockets, nothing there.”

“Worst feel up ever,” Baz grumbles.

I rub my aching temple. “Baz, did you really forget your keys?”

He frowns and scratches his head with a bloodied hand. “Hm, yes, I think I did. I left my flat pretty fast. Maybe the super will let me in if he’s awake.”

“Where do you live?”

His brows pull together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Now that is certainly an expression I remember from school. It’s his thinking face. I used to glare at him while he studied all the time. “Somewhere...posh, and silver.”

I groan and drag a hand over my face. “Alright then. Well...I guess I’ll bring you to my flat.”

Baz’s jaw drops open and he shakes his head, making his black hair fan out in a strangely majestic way. “No no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out-”

“No, Baz, you won’t, you’re too pissed to think right now. I’m taking you to my place, no questions.”

He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry. “I don’t wanna im-”

“We lived together for years, arsehole. One more night won’t kill you. Come on, get up.”

I grab his bicep and haul him to his feet. Bloody hell, does he work out a lot or something? He’s made of fucking rock. Baz wobbles back and forth and ends up leaning on me. I struggle to keep him upright.

“Baz,” I grumble, “you’re too heavy, I can’t hold you up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sort of heaves himself upwards, still wobbling on his feet, but at least he’s standing. That’s something I guess.

“You good?”

Baz sticks out his arms like he’s on a tightrope. “Yeah, I’m alright. Mostly.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.” I look over at the still very annoyed bartender. “Uh, thanks for taking care of him.”

“If you’re really thankful,” she spits, “make sure he doesn’t come back.”

She marches off into the back. Baz flips her off before I quickly pull down his hand. “Enough,” I grumble. “Let’s get you out of here before she smacks you.”

“Kinky,” he chuckles. God, drunk Baz is fucking weird.

Getting down the stairs takes far longer than it should. Baz has to watch his every step so he doesn’t go tumbling down. He’s like a shaky newborn fawn. It would be cute if it weren't so frustrating. Finally, we get to the bottom and I lead Baz by the sleeve towards my car. He laughs loudly when we reach it. I immediately scowl and whip around to face him.

“What?!” I snap, assuming he’s making fun of my old beat up beetle. But instead he has his head tilted upwards, laughing at the sky. Neon club signs and yellow street lights light up his smiling face. He’s like a rainbow constellation, colour reaching every crevice. Huh. Baz has always been pretty, but has he always been this pretty?

“Lights in the sky,” he laughs. “Pretty.”

I groan and tug him hard. “Come on, you drunk prat, hurry up.”

Baz stumbles along reluctantly. I shove into the passenger seat and buckle him up like he’s a bloody eight year old, then take my place in the driver’s seat. Baz is slumping, the seat belt digging into his cheek. If we crash his pretty face is going to get cut open. I debate telling him, but Baz rarely ever listens to me, and I doubt that has changed much.

I turn the engine over. Baz lets out a whoop so loud I jolt. “Allons-y,” he shouts like some deranged adventurer.

“Silence, s’il vous plait,” I reply as I turn on to the road.

“Oo, you speak French now, Snow?”

“Yes. I lived in France for a year, I learned pretty well.”

“Very nice.” For a moment I think he’s mocking me, but his smile is completely genuine, if not a bit drunken. Is it weird that I like drunk adult Baz better than sober teen Baz?

I drive through Shoreditch slowly, making sure not to hit any wayward club leavers. Baz grumbles about the slowness, but I tell him to shut up or I’ll drive us into a pole. That makes him quiet for a little while, thank god. When we hit the main drag, he decides to pipe up again.

“So what have you been up to, Snow?” he asks.

My eyes briefly flick over to him, catching his grin and glazed eyes. I scoff and look back at the road. “Really? We’re going to chit chat about life after Watford?”

“You just want us to sit in silence the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring,” he groans. “Come on, Snow, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up.”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Yes, I would love to catch up with my plastered childhood bully.”

Baz lets out a pathetic sort of whining sigh. Suddenly, something brushes my shoulder. I jolt away and briefly look over, realising it’s Baz’s hand. He’s pouting in the way his mouth is perfectly made for.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all the shit I did. I was a messed up prick at Watford. I’m really sorry I took that all out on you.”

I raise an extremely suspicious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?!”

“It’s been seven years, Snow. Am I not allowed to learn from my mistakes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course. I just didn’t expect it from you...”

“I’m a changed man, Snow,” he declares proudly. “No more picking on other people to avoid dealing with my emotional and family problems.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Wow, you sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I am a therapist.”

We stop at a red light, giving me a chance to whip my head around in shock. My jaw is firmly on the ground. “You’re a therapist?!”

“Sort of.” Baz grins pointed ear to pointed ear. He offers his hand, though it’s a bit limp. “Dr. Basilton Grimm-Pitch, psychiatrist in training at University College Hospital. Pleasure to meet you.”

I can’t take my hands off the wheel, so I don’t take his, but I smile instead. Baz chuckles as his hand falls, so I think he gets the picture.

“Wow,” I sigh. “You, a psychiatrist. I never would have thought.”

“Me neither, until I took a psychology course in year 10. Then I decided I liked, y’know, mind stuff and shit. It was interesting and challenging. And I could help people with it.”

I scoff, but with a smile. “And you used to call me the overly noble hero.”

“Well, I decided to follow in your golden footsteps, golden boy.” He turns towards me, cheeks squished against the seat. He’s really going to die if we crash. “So really, what have you been up to since Watford, Mr. Hero? Storming castles? Saving damsels in distress? Travelling the world?”

That makes me laugh louder. “You have a way overinflated sense of my heroism.”

He snorts, but it’s not unkind like it used to be. Just sort of amused. “Alright. Then what do you do?”

“I’m, uh, actually a primary teacher. Year six, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Baz breathes out, sounding genuinely amazed. “That’s cool. That makes sense, yeah.”

“Makes sense?”

“You were always helping out the kids in younger years at Watford.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Is it fun? Teaching children?”

“Yeah. I like finding fun ways to teach them stuff. Though it’s not great they get in fights or stuck lego bricks up their noses.”

Baz lets out a barking laugh. It’s a fun, sudden sound. I’ve never heard it before, yet it works well for Baz. “Is that what people mean by ‘the joys of children?’”

“Something like that. Is psychiatry fun?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But time consuming. Doctors aren’t supposed to have damn lives apparently.”

“Well, good thing you found time to go to a hipster bar”

Everything suddenly gets very, very quiet. It reminds me of when we would study. Backs to each other, no noise, plenty of tension. Did I say something wrong? I used to do that a lot, but I thought I’d gotten better. I’ve learned to chew my words better over the years. But when we stop at a roundabout, I turn to see that Baz is gazing ahead, mouth a thin line and grey eyes lost in the distance.

“Pretty lights,” he whispers in awe, like a child. I guess alcohol does turn adults into children. His nose is still letting out a small trickle of dark red blood. I sigh and shake my head.

“Glove box,” I say.

Baz turns his head to me. “Huh?”

“There’s tissues in the glove box. Your nose is still bleeding a bit.”

“Oh.” He paws at the latch in front of him, floppy drunk fingers struggling to just bloody lift it. I sigh and reach over, lifting it for him. Baz takes out the little packet and flashes me that dopey smile. Why does my chest feel funny? I must be overtired.

“Thanks,” he says, then presses the tissue to his nose. It’s weirdly comforting in its familiarity. I still remember sitting in the headmaster’s office after our fights, covered in bruises and blood, glaring at each other. This is better though. We’re not fighting, in fact we’re being nice. Maybe this is how we could’ve been at Watford. Maybe we could’ve been...friends.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. But it’s a comfortable silence, no tension. I like it. A lot. I like all of this better than fighting.

———————————————

I pull into my spot in front of my apartment. Dragging Baz out of the car is a bit of a problem, but luckily my place has a lift, so no more stair problems. He starts leaning on me as we go up to my floor. I use one finger to push him back, and he slumps against the wall. I need to strap him to a dolly.

We go into my apartment, and I instinctively prepare for a snide comment from Baz. Something about it’s size, it’s clutter, the decor. But he says nothing derogatory. In fact, he smiles, brushing his hand against my Van Gogh print and old dining room table.

“You, uh, like it?” I ask. Wait, why does it matter what Baz thinks of my place? I don’t need his approval.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “It’s very nice.”

There’s a thump from my room, followed by the familiar pitter-patter of tiny paws. Cherry prances into the room, all fluffy tailed and cute. She blinks up at Baz with big green eyes. Baz makes a tiny gasp and gets on his knees, holding his hand out to Cherry.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” he says softly. “Aren’t you an adorable little thing.”

Cherry sniffs his fingers, then immediately nuzzles against his hand. Baz looks absolutely elated, a big childish grin on his face.

“You like cats, huh?”

Baz nods vigorously. “I would have one if my building allowed pets.” He scratches behind Charry’s ear with glee. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Cherry.”

“You did love those scones,” he chuckles.

I chuckle as well, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. “Still do. Though none are as good as Cook Pritchard’s.”

“Very true.” He stands up, pulling away from Cherry, and wobbles his way into the sitting room. He stands between my coffee table and ratty old couch. “So may I sleep on that couch?”

I scramble in after him and start piling up my curriculum papers. I don’t want Baz shouting at me for the mess. “Uh, yeah, just lemme fix it up a bit.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, I’ll fix it. And...maybe you should clean up a bit first?”

Baz turns to me with a confused expression. “What?” I sigh and point at is blood spattered shirt. He pulls it in front of himself, like a child who’s spilled food. “Oh, right.”

“There’s stuff on you face too...”

Baz drags a long finger over his cheek, and rubs the dried blood between his fingers. “Good  point.

“You wanna take a shower maybe?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. But be warned, I don’t have any of your fancy French soaps.”

He lets out a loud short laugh, like a happy little firecracker going off. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Snow. I doubt you’ve changed that much.”

“Heh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, which is getting very hot for some reason. I think I need to fix my fan.

Baz wobbles back towards me. He stands a bit too close, and now that things are calm, I notice how he smells. It’s a mix of liquor, irony blood, and the very faint, familiar scent of cedar and bergamot. Seven years later and I can’t forget that smell. I guess it’s burned into my brain forever. I’m not sure that I mind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, snapping me out of my olfactory induced daze.

“Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left. There’s towels in the cupboard.”

“Alright.” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets, a very shy gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Thank you. Again. I’m saying that a lot tonight, wow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess so. Now go wash off that awful blood please.”

“Aye aye, Mr.Snow.” He does a mocking little American salute with two fingers. I watch as he half skips his way to the bathroom, trying not to giggle at his ridiculous gait.

The bathroom door shuts, and I let out a long breath. My brain is still playing catch up. I need to sit, relax, just process all this shit. Once I organize my papers into semi-neat piles and close my laptop, I grab a cherry granola bar from the counter and collapse on the couch. I hear the shower turn on. I glance over at the clock. Bloody hell, it’s past 3am, and my enemy is taking a shower in my flat. Well, former enemy, I guess. We’re not fighting anymore. In fact, Baz is being really nice. It’s pretty damn great. I hope we can keep this up.

Cherry jumps onto the couch, startling me from my daze. She immediately curls up on my lap, purring happily. I chuckle as I pet her. Penny jokes that Cherry is my emotional support service cat. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Wanna watch Dr. Who, darling?” I coo, scratching behind her ear. “Yes, yes you do.”

I grab the remote and turn on Netflix, going to one of my favourite episodes. We sit there in peaceful silence through the show. I try not to listen to the shower down the hall. I can’t help but worry. What if he slips and hits his head? What if he falls asleep and drowns? What if he tries to eat the bloody soap? All are strong possibilities. But he’s still Baz. He’s too smart and stubborn to die.

As I near the end of the episode, I realise it’s been half an hour since Baz went in. My heart beats double time, every fear racing through my head. (As well as concern for my water bill.) But the sound of water shuts off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear Baz’s unsteady feet pad around the tiled floor. But then there’s rattling and muffled swearing, and I’m on my feet immediately. Cherry meows unhappily and scuttles away.

“Sorry, girl,” I say as I speed walk to the bathroom. I knock on the wooden door. “Baz? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” his muffled voice replies, but that’s followed by a loud bang. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Snow, wait-”

I push the door open and immediately freeze. All the blood in my body goes straight to my face, turning it tomato red. Because Baz Pitch is standing in front of my medicine cabinet with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is soaked and messy, falling adorably in front his shocked face. His legs look strong enough to crush someone. Thin rivulets of water drip down his broad, bare chest. I watch them for a few long, drawn out seconds, completely frozen. In our time living together, Baz and I made a point to never see each other without clothes on. Did he even look close to this back at school? Did I just never notice?

“Um...” Baz says, breaking me out of my daze. I whip around, hand cupped over my eyes.

“Bloody hell, Baz!” I shout. “Give a guy some warning.”

“I would have if you hadn’t come bursting in!”

“Well, you took awhile in the shower, then I heard swearing. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Mr. Hero, though not for your usual brashness.”

“Just put some clothes on, please.”

“Very well.”

I listen to Baz shuffle and grumble as I assume he gets dressed. I resist the urge to turn around and check if he can get his legs into his trousers. I’m not sure how drunk he still is.

“You can turn around now, Snow.”

I slowly turn, and my face turns scarlet again. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

“Because mine is covered in blood,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it is, but still he’s not wearing a shirt. Why are my hands so clammy?

Baz starts sorting through the medicine cabinet. I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for bandages.” He lifts his left hand, showing off his bruised, still slightly bleeding knuckles. “You got any?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get it, sit down on the toilet.”

Baz stumbles over and does what he’s told (for once). I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“Gimme your hand,” I say. Baz holds out his arm, fingers limp. I try not to look freaked out. His skin is black and blue and there are many cuts, still bleeding slowly. “Why are you still bleeding? It’s been like, an hour.”

“My blood alcohol content is high,” Baz replies. “Booze is a blood thinner. Means I’ll bleed more.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thanks, Mr. Doctor.”

Baz chuckles, a soft smile playing on his mouth. “Dr. Grimm-Pitch will do.”

I laugh as well. I take a towel off the rack and pat his hand dry, then get the antiseptic.

“I just had a shower,” Baz protests.

“Don’t care. We need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“I’m fine.”

I pour the clear liquid on a sterile pad. “Still doing it.”

“I’m the doctor here, dammit.”

“The doctor who is still drunk off his arse after a bloody bar fight. So shut up.”

Baz frowns, but doesn’t protest. I lightly pat his cuts. He inhales sharply through his teeth and tries to pull away, but I grab his wrist, holding still.

“Don’t move,” I say.

“It hurts,” he whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you get for getting in a bar fight, idiot.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t move again either. Once I’m satisfied all the cuts are clean, I use another pad to get them dry, then take out the bandages.

“You get injured a lot, Snow?” He’s smirking playfully, not a hint of malice. It’s much nicer than his smug arsehole face.

“No,” I chuckle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Especially if your former enemy shows up drunk and bleeding.”

Thoughts start racing through my head. Horrible, nervous thoughts. I stop wrapping his hand for a moment, but quickly start again. Unfortunately, Baz notices.

“Something on your mind, Snow?” he asks.

I chew on my bottom lip as I secure the bandage. I gesture for Baz to give me his other hand, and he does. I slowly pat on the antiseptic and he doesn’t move at all. Slowly, I look up, and I meet Baz’s deep sea eyes. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed, just concerned. So am I.

“Baz,” I sigh, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And considering you’re a bloody doctor now, I doubt that’s changed. So I’m absolutely astounded at how you could get so drunk and end up in a bar fight.”

Baz’s thin lips press together, and I watch his throat bob in a gulp. He leans his elbow on the sink, propping his cheek on his fist. “Snow,” he says slowly, “what do you know about my mother?”

My blood turns ice cold. I stop with the bandage completely, just looking at Baz. “Uh, not much. I know she died a long time ago. And...it was at Watford...”

Baz nods slowly. “Yes, that’s what everyone knows. But what most people don’t know is that I was there.”

And now my heart completely stops. My mouth falls open slightly. Baz’s face stays completely neutral. “You...you were there?”

“Yeah.” He leans harder on his fist. “I was sitting with the rest of the kids in the Watford nursery. Suddenly a group of men with knives burst in. They started to come after the nannies and the children. But that’s when my mother showed up with her hunting rifle. My father insisted she have it for protection when he wasn’t there. She got all of the men immediately, including the one holding me. She hit him in the shoulder so he dropped me. Another man charged her while she was distracted, and she shot him in the chest, but not before...” Baz rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like I do when I have a headache. “Not before he stabbed her in the neck. She bled to death in seconds.” He drags his hand down his face. “I fell unconscious after that. When I woke up, my father and aunt were tending to my wounds, and my mother was gone. I was young, it’s all a bit hazy, but I remember enough.”

I’m left in stunned silence. Baz doesn’t say anything either, just rubbing his head. He’s not crying, but he looks on the verge of tears. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it, can’t believe Baz went through that and no one ever knew. It’s just terrible.

“Wow,” I finally say, “that’s...wow.”

Baz chuckles quietly. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“I never knew that happened...”

“No one did, Snow. All the gruesome little details were kept under wraps. It would’ve been terrible if anyone found out Natasha Grimm-Pitch died in such an undignified way that traumatized her heir.”

His voice is mockingly scathing, even with his slightly slurred speech. He’s a mix between furious and mournful. I don’t understand how he feels, but I don’t think I ever could. I may never have had parents, but that’s a far cry from watching your’s die.

“I don’t know how much it means, but I’m sorry that happened to you Baz.”

The corner of his lip quirks up into a small half smile. “Thanks, Snow.”

I start wrapping his hand again, and my brow furrows. “So, uh, what does this have to do with you getting drunk and fighting? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Baz takes a deep inhale through his nose, and lets out the air through his mouth. “My mother was killed twenty years ago today.”

“O-oh. That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mhm. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, but this anniversary hit me harder than I expected. I had my first day off in months, so after some mindless telly, I went to that bar. Gave the bartender my card and told her to keep the tequila coming. First mistake.”

“Second one was getting in a fight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He flexes his bandaged hand. “It was just some arsehole looking for trouble. He kept prodding at me and shoving my shoulder until I snapped. I don’t even remember what he said. I was just so angry and sad and drunk. And that arsehole was right there” He groans loudly and rubs his head. “One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Probably. But you made one good choice.”

“Oh?”

I finish bandaging his other hand and smile at his mopey face. “You called me.”

His mopeyness melts away as he lets out a breathy laugh. Our eyes meet, and his are glinting in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah, I guess that was a good idea.”

We smile at each other. Something tugs in my chest, something I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like this. Maybe I’m just overtired.

Baz flexes his bandaged hands. I put the first aid kit under the sink again. Baz stands and presses a hand to his bruised eye. hissing between his teeth. “Got any ice packs, Snow?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “It’s in the kitchen, c’mon.”

We walk towards the kitchen. I open the freezer and pull out my reusable ice pack. Teaching a bunch of children can result in some bad headaches. I wrap it in a napkin and hand it to Baz. He presses it to his eye with clenched teeth. As he leans back against the counter, I remember he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Uh,” I say, “those jeans don’t look comfortable. I’ve got some spare pyjamas. Want me to get them?”

Baz nods. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Alright, stay here.”

I go to my bedroom, wading through the laundry I have to do tomorrow to get to the dresser. It takes awhile for me to find something that will probably fit Baz. Damn his extra four inches, always so infuriating. I eventually pick out some trackies and a long Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s all I’ve got. I go back to the kitchen, and come upon a strange scene.

“Baz,” I say slowly, “what are you doing?

Baz looks up from the messy, cutlery covered counter, still pressing the ice pack to his eye. He lifts a plate with two pieces of bread, both half covered in marmite. “Making a marmite and cheese sandwich. You want half?”

His expression is so innocent, not a hint of the old malice I used to know. I let out a sigh. “Sure. Let me get the cheese.”

He grins and goes back to slathering on marmite. I pull my sliced sandwich cheese from the fridge. Hope Baz doesn’t mind cheap Tesco brand swiss. I bring the package to the counter, and Baz takes out a slice without even looking. Guess he’s not as snobbish about food as he used to be. He cuts the sandwich into two slightly lopsided triangles and swans out to my dining room. I follow behind with the pyjamas.

Baz sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs spread out. I sit across from him, placing the clothes on the table. Baz snatches it. It unfolds and his brows pull together.

“You a baseball fan now, Snow?” he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah. Micah definitely is though.”

“Who?”

“Remember that American exchange student from fourth year?”

“The short nerd with large glasses?” His voice is muffled as he struggles to put on the shirt. Drunk Baz doesn’t get along with t-shirt holes.

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him I guess. He and Penny started dating then and have been together ever since. She lives in America with him now.”

Baz’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. How is Bunce? I miss facing off with her in debate club.”

“She’s doing well. She’s got a job as an assistant professor in Chicago and loves American food. I just saw her a few weeks ago on vacation.”

“Marvelous. Tell her I say hello next time you speak to her.”

“Will do.” We both take one half of the marmite-cheese sandwich. Baz takes a huge bite, followed by a happy groan. I can’t tell if he’s drunk hungry or actually hungry. Probably somewhere in between. I take a bite as well. There’s far too much marmite, but it’s four in the morning. Right now anything tastes good.

Thinking of Penny makes me think of Watford. And something else, or more accurately someone else, pops into my head.

“Hey,” I say through the marmite, “you said you talked to Agatha earlier. How are you two still in contact? She cut off almost everyone after Watford. I didn’t start talking to her again until a year ago.”

Baz quickly chews and swallows. “Funny story there. I did a semester abroad in California and ended up in the same biology class as Agatha. It was extremely awkward at first. But once we sat down over coffee and sorted stuff out, we bonded very quickly. Similar upper class British family problems and expectations.”

“Oh. That’s makes sense I guess. It’s nice you guys talk.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” He chuckles, mouth gummed with marmite. “The weirdest part was telling her I’m gay. I apologised for leading her on, and you know what she did?”

I lean over the table, genuinely enraptured. “What?”

“Laughed her fucking arse off for ten minutes straight.”

I snort so hard I nearly shoot sandwich out my nose. Baz throws his head back laughing. He’s so loud he might disturb my neighbours, but I don’t care. His laugh is too incredible.

“Just like that,” he giggles, calming down.

“So she wasn’t mad?” I ask.

“No, not at all. She admitted she wasn’t really into me. She was just rebelling against her parents. We both sympathised on that front.” He sighs and leans back even more. “That’s all I wanted at Watford, really. I was under so much pressure to be the perfect son. I seriously considered yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever I wanted.”

I sigh too, putting my cheek against my palm. “Yeah, I understand that. Mr. Mage put a lot of pressure on me. He wanted to prove to the Watford board that scholarship students were worthwhile, and since I was Watford’s very first scholarship kid, I had to be perfect. Every time I got a low grade he would yell at me for an hour.”

“What a prick,” Baz grumbles.

I chuckle as I nod slowly. “Yeah, total prick. Watford wasn’t an easy place to be.”

Baz slowly lowers his sandwich, looking pointedly at the plate, and therefore not me. My heart speeds up. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss him off by accident? I do that a lot. And I definitely used to do that to Baz.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says carefully. “And maybe this is me still being pretty drunk. But...I saw something in your medicine cabinet.”

I squint, trying to think what could be so concerning. “Saw what?”

He fiddles with his still damp hair. It’s an old nervous habit I recognise from finals studying. “A bottle of citalopram. I’m a future psychiatrist, I know what that medication is usually for...”

My stomach drops out. I freeze with the sandwich still in my hand. “Oh,” I squeak.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, eyes round and sympathetic. “I’m sorry I looked. And...I’m sorry if I had any part in your need for it-”

“No no, Baz.” I shake my head, leaning forward as well. “You don’t have to. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s in particular, really. It’s stupid chemicals misfiring in my brain. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

“Yes, of course I know that, Snow. But I also know my incessant arsehole behaviour for seven years probably didn’t help.”

I shrug, leaning back again. “Probably. And I bet me insulting you and punching you in the face all the time didn’t help your mental health either.”

He smiles and laughs again. He looks better when he laughs. “Okay, good point.”

“Exactly. So let’s agree neither of us need to apologise. We’ll let the past be the past, move on from here.”

“So you mean a truce?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I reach out my hand. “Truce.”

Baz smiles and clasps his hand with mine. His skin is just as rough and cold as I remember it being back at school. But even after we pull apart, my skin still feels warm.

“Just so we’re even,” Baz says with his mouthful, “my favourite antidepressant was cipralex. I went off it a few months ago because it started making me too drowsy, but it worked well for years. Citalopram made me far too ill. When I first tried it, I ended up vomiting in a bloody bedpan.”

I burst out laughing. And Baz’s grin outshines the sun.

We finish our sandwiches together. Baz complains that his mouth tastes like a rubbage heap. Apparently the combination of old tequila, Tesco cheese, and marmite creates a truly awful flavour. I give him an unused toothbrush from the dentist. He goes into the bathroom and soon emerges with clean teeth and wearing my trackies. I’m back on the couch with Cherry in my lap.

“You tired?” I ask.

“Not really,” Baz replies. “Late hospital shifts have turned me into an insomniac.”

“Wanna watch some Dr. Who?”

He throws himself down next to me, long arm stretched out over the back of the couch behind me. “Sure.”

I switch to a new episode. It’s a standalone, so Baz won’t be too confused. But he still asks incessant questions. Who’s this, what’s that, how the everloving fuck can they do that and survive? No wonder he’s a doctor. He’s perfect at looking for answers, no matter how annoying he is. Eventually I have to threaten to duct tape his mouth to get him to shut up. He huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks down further.. His head ends up on my shoulder. Despite my shorter neck length and Baz’s naturally long face, his head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. Like it was made to be there. Wait, where did that thought come from?

The credits roll, and I notice a quiet whistling noise. I turn my head to the side. Oh. Baz is asleep. His eyes are softly closed and his lips are slightly parted. I’ve seen Baz sleep before of course, but this is different. Baz had nightmares throughout our entire time at Watford. (So did I.) I don’t think he’s having one now though. There’s no thrashing or whimpers. I’ve never seen Baz look so...peaceful.

“Baz,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond at all. “Baz,” I say louder, jerking my shoulder a bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, “let me sleep in, Daphne, it’s summer.”

“I’m not your step-mum, Baz.”

He cracks one eye open. “No, you’re really not, Snow.”

“Yeah. You wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Okay.” I slowly get up, easing Baz off my shoulder. I gently lower him onto the couch. The bottom half of his face hangs off the arm. Yeah, he’s going to need a pillow. I go to my bedroom and grab a pillow and blanket. I also make a stop by the bathroom for some aspirin and make another at the kitchen for some water and a bowl, in case he’s sick. I would prefer not to clean vomit out of my carpet.

Baz is still awkwardly pressed against the sofa arm, drooling slightly. Who would’ve thought I’d see the day Baz Pitch drooled in his sleep? I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. But apparently tonight is a time for new things.

I place the bowl, water, and aspirin on my coffee table. Slowly and carefully, I lift Baz’s head and fit a pillow under it. I drape the blanket over his annoyingly tall body. His arm hangs like a limp noodle off the side. I sigh, kneeling down to tuck it back in.

Out of nowhere, I feel long, rough fingers touching my cheek. My whole body locks up in shock. Slowly, I raise my head, and I meet Baz’s half open grey eyes and soft smile.

“Uh, Baz?” I say, not sure what else I can.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers. My eyes widen and every nerve in my body is filled with...something? Fear, nerves, an absolute sense of what the fuck? I can’t tell.

“W-What?”

Baz’s hand moves lower. His thumb traces just under my bottom lip. Why does my skin feels like it’s fire? “Your face, it’s still really pretty.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, I guess you’d know. You punched it enough.”

He laughs softly. His hand falls, pulling back under the blanket, and his eyes slip shut. “Wish I had kissed it instead.”

I don’t even have time to respond to that, because Baz is asleep in an instant, snoring quietly once again. I’m frozen in place. My jaw is slack. Baz would tell me I’m going to catch flies. Baz, who’s sleeping right in front of me, who wished he had kissed me? My brain can’t process this. I’m like a computer with an eternal blue screen. This does not compute, cannot compute, fuck fuck fuck.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, rush to my room, and close the door. Cherry is already curled up on her side. The second I’m sitting on the mattress, I click Penny’s contact.

“Hello?” Her voice immediately calms me down.

“Hi, Pen,” I say.

“Simon?! Bloody hell, isn’t it like four in the morning in London?”

I look over at my clock. “Uh, yup, just about.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are calling me at four AM?”

I sigh and flop backwards. “Pen, you’re not going to believe who is sleeping in my living room right now.”

“Who? The Doctor? Boris Johnson? The Queen of England>

A laugh bubbles from my mouth. “Nah, even weirder.”

I can almost hear Penny’s face pinching together in confusion. “Who?”

“Baz Pitch.”

She gasps loudly. “What?! As in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch? That Baz Pitch?!”

“You think there’s another Baz Pitch in existence?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “good point. So why is your arsehole former roommate sleeping on your couch?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. It doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything can help now. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I sigh, and start spinning my insane tale. From the call to the bar to my flat, how Baz and I talked and became friendly and made a weird truce over cheese and marmite. I try to say everything quickly yet accurately. Penny barely makes a noise as I talk. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or contemplative. Probably both, honestly. I can’t blame her. The more I talk, the more completely nuts it all sounds. I’m living in a bloody sitcom.

“And then,” I say, “he held my face, said I was beautiful, and that he wished he had kissed me instead of punching me!”

“Wow,” Penny gasps. “That’s...a lot.”

“I know right? I’m so confused and I have no idea what the fuck to do!”

“Okay. What do you want to do though?”

I rub my very aching brow. “I don’t know, Pen. It’s so weird. Like, is this something he’s just realised or has Baz always felt this way?”

“Probably the second one.”

I bolt upright, brows knitted together. “Wait, really? You think so?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“But why?!”

“Well, Baz has always been very obsessed with you. He would go out of his way to be around you.”

“Yeah, to torment me,” I grumble.

Penny lets out a sigh. “Yes, he did. But as you told me, Baz said he picked on you because he couldn’t deal with his emotional issues. One of those issues certainly could have been romantic feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t he just say something?!”

“Because he was the gay son of a conservative upper class British family, which probably wasn’t easy to deal with. Plus, his father and aunt hated the idea of scholarship students, also known as you.”

My righteous anger fizzles out like a dying campfire, shoulders slumping as I fall back against the headboard. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point. Still shouldn’t have been a snob and a bully.

“No he shouldn’t have. It was probably half poor coping and half trying to get your attention.”

“Like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a stupid and sexist way to handle a crush. I tell my students that all the time.”

Penny sighs. “Yeah, of course it is. But I’m pretty sure Baz knows that, at least now. He’s sorry for what he did. It seems like he’s gotten a lot better.”

“Yeah.” A smile creeps across my face without thinking. It just feels natural. “He’s gotten a lot nicer. He’s not the perfect, pretty, unfeeling arsehole I thought he was. And he’s funny, at least when he’s drunk. We had a pretty great time .”

I laugh quietly, but Penny’s is far louder. She sounds like she’s muffling her giggles. I frown a bit. “What’s so funny, Pen?”

“Oh,” she keeps giggling, “I think I’ve just realised something, and it’s hilarious.”

“Realised what?”

She takes a few deep calming breaths while my anxiety just climbs. “Simon,” she says kindly. This is the way she used to speak while explaining our complicated maths homework. “Hear me out, but I don’t think Baz is the only one who feels something.”

“Huh?”

“I think you have at least a few romantic feelings for Baz.”

“What?!” I shout far too loudly, and I worry I’m going to wake up Baz. I crouch inward, like I’m hiding, but I’m not really sure what. Baz? Penny? Myself?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss.

“Hear me out,” Penny says. “I’m saying that based on the evidence, you may have latent romantic feelings for Baz Pitch.”

“What evidence?!”

Penny lets out a low chuckle, like a super villain who’s plan has come to fruition. “Let’s see. Number one: back at Watford, you spent 99% of your time thinking about, talking about, or being with Baz. I had to put a limit on how much you were allowed to talk about Baz, remember?”

“Yeah, because he was bugging me,” I mumble.

“Number two: when you talked about Baz, it was always about how annoyingly pretty, smart, and graceful he was. You hated him, yet you had so many nice things to say.”

“Well he was perfect and it was annoying!”

“Number three: During the entire time you dated Agatha, you paid far more attention to Baz than you ever did to her.”

“T-That’s not true!” Though, looking back...fucking hell, it might actually be true.

“Number four: even though you hadn’t seen him in seven years, you dropped everything at two AM to go pick up his drunk arse from a bar.”

“It was the right thing to do!”

“Number five: you just gushed about how much you like Baz now and that he’s fun to be around. And I bet you were smiling.”

“No.” I think my cheeks are turning red.

I hear some rustling, and I think Penny is leaning forward in her chair. I can almost see her kind face in front of me. “Simon, I don’t want to push anything on you, but I also want you to really think about this. I know you hate to analyse things but it’s necessary right now. Maybe it could lead to something good.”

I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

“I know. Doesn’t even have to be romantic, maybe a good friendship. You could use more friends. And I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tomorrow.”

“Penny!” Now I’m definitely blushing.

She laughs uncontrollably, snorting every once in awhile. I cover my blushing face and groan. “Oh, I’m only joking, Si,” she says. “But I’m serious, don’t shut it down. Think about it. Baz is nice now, maybe it could work.”

“Why are you so desperate to set me up with my former enemy?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date or made new friends since first year uni. And I haven’t heard you this happy about being around someone in years.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I’ve had more fun with Baz in one night than I have in ages. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed laughing with him. I’m glad he’s asleep in the next room, where I can make sure he’s okay.

“You may have a point,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

I roll my eyes, just like she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known you’re smarter than me.”

“Mhm. And in my smart opinion, you need to go to bed.”

“Will do.” I flop backwards. The pillow feels heavenly on my head. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better. Night, Si.”

I smile, and I hope she can hear my love and gratitude over the phone. “Night, Pen.”

The phone clicks off. I let it fall to the side. I am 0.2 seconds from passing out, even with so much still on my mind. I plug in my phone and turn on my side. I pull Cherry close to me. She curls around my hand like usual. When I close my eyes, all I see is raven hair, deep sea grey eyes, and a smile I never knew was there before.

———————————————

“Bloody fucking shit!”

I wake up with a start, clutching my sheet. Late morning sunlight is bleeding through the gap in my curtains. There’s muffled banging on the other side of my door. It’s like a very clumsy little rhino is moving through my flat. But I know exactly who it is.

I grab my glasses and slowly walk down the hall, peeking around the corner. It’s weird to sneak around my own apartment. I see a familiar long, lithe back, bent over as he struggles to get his struggles to get his oxfords on. He keeps wavering side to side like a branch in the wind.

“Good morning,” I say nonchalantly.

Baz whips around so fast he nearly topples over, stumbling to the side. He looks even more disheveled than last night, hair extremely tangled from sleeping on it wet, bruise worsening under his eyes, and bloodstained shirt buttoned wrong. He looks absolutely shocked to see me, which is odd, considering this is my flat.

“Um,” he says, shakiness in my voice, “good morning, Snow.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.”

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “So you were going to go and what? Leave me a thank you note like some bad teen movie?”

He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I see him crumple up and shove something in his back pocket. “No. I-I would’ve texted you my thanks.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

Baz looks down in shame, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...I didn’t want to make things awkward after last night. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted and imposing on you.”

“It’s okay.” I walk forward, hands in my trackie pockets. “I know you were pretty drunk, but, what do you remember from last night?”

Baz looks up, but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I remember, being upset, going to the bar, getting in the fight, and the bartender screaming colourful obscenities at me.” That makes him laugh a little. It still sounds so nice. “Then I called you, you came and you had glasses. We drove to your place. I had a shower. You tended to my wounds like some war nurse.”

I giggle, nodding in complete agreement. “Yeah, I definitely did do that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Then uh, we ate sandwiches, watched Doctor Who, and I assume I fell asleep.”

“Okay.” I draw out the last syllable on purpose, making my doubt extremely clear. “That’s most of it, but you’re missing a few key parts.”

“Am I?” He’s trying to sound confident, but I know Baz, and I can hear a waver in his voice.

I start walking closer. “Mhm. You’re missing the parts where you apologized for being a prick in school, called my flat was good, liked my cat, said you drank because it was the anniversary of your mother’s horrible death, talked about your experience with antidepressants.” I’m only a few feet away from him now, looking him right in his pretty. “And, the part where you said that you wished you had kissed me back at school instead of punching me.”

With his complexion, it’s hard to tell when Baz is blushing. But I can see it. Scarlet creeps down from his cheeks to his long neck, eyes locked on me in stun.

“Oh,” he squeaks. “I see.”

“You really don’t remember all that?”

He rubs his brow. “Well, maybe, it’s just...fuzzy.”

“But was it true? Did you like me back at Watford?”

He visibly gulps, then looks at the floor again. He looks incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes,” he says, like he has to force himself to say it. “Yes, it’s true.”

I let out a long breath, half from relief, half to calm myself down. Okay. It’s true. Baz had feelings for me. All through school, all that time, Baz was pining after me from afar. And I never knew. Not a bit. But I think that was the idea.

“Alright,” I say.

Baz lifts his eyes slightly, cocking one eyebrow. “Alright? Is that all you have to say?”

I shrug high then drop my shoulders low. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s all. It changes a lot of things I assumed in school.”

“I bloody well hope so.” His voice is lighter, trying to lift the mood, trying to make this even slightly less than horribly awkward.

“So,” I say drawing out the o, “when, uh, did it start? You feeling like...that.”

If Baz’s blush could get any worse, I think it just did. He plays with his sleeves, his buttons, his hair, obviously looking for a distraction. “I realised it when I was 15. But I think, it started almost since we met.”

That hits me hard. The first year we met, I wore ratty old clothes and was essentially nonverbal. Baz saw me like that, a dirty silent little orphan kid, and he already liked me. He didn’t show it, but only because he couldn’t. He cared about me, even then. Even when so few truly did.

“Huh,” I say stupidly. “That’s a long time.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No shit, Snow.”

“That makes me feel even more sorry for being a prick to you in school.”

Baz shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, don’t apologize. I was a prick to you first. I just...” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “In my family, I wasn’t supposed to be gay, let alone have feelings for someone they hated. I lashed out and hurt you because I was hurting. It was wrong.”

He sighs and sits down heavily on the couch. He looks so forlorn and ashamed, head hanging forward, his hair like a curtain. All the guilt seems to be pushing down on his shoulders, making him slump. Penny was right, as usual. But to hear it from Baz, to see him like this, it tugs on my heart. Like that time I caught him drunk in front of his mother’s grave when we were fifteen, or twice last night. He’s grown a lot and gotten happier, but a small part of Baz is still that sad kid, I guess.

Slowly, I walk towards him and sit down. Before I can think too much, I reach out and touch his hand. Baz’s head snaps up, completely terrified and shocked. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. One by one, I slip my fingers between his. Baz’s skin is such a strange contrast. My palm touches the smooth back of his hand, while fingers trace tiny rough ridges. It feels...really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, but what do you think about me now?”

I look him in the eye. I can see the way his lips shift, feel how his hand twitches. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking right now. He stays silent, so I decide to jump in.

“Well, let me start. I know what I think about you. I think,” I move closer, “that you’re kind, funny, smart, and still annoyingly gorgeous.” That makes his eyes widen ever so slightly. “And now I also know that you’re incredibly strong. That you struggled and mourned and came out okay. I mean, you’re a bloody doctor who’s going to help people work through their own problems. That’s amazing.”

Baz looks so shocked, probably both at my words and my coherency. I’ve gotten a lot better at speaking over the years. I’m so glad for that right now. “You really think all that, Snow?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always found you annoyingly amazing. Now it’s just not so annoying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”

Baz presses his lips together for a split second. “Honestly, yes. We hated each other for years, fought like cats and dogs. I assumed I had ruined any chance of that changing.”

“Well,” I move even closer so our thighs press together, “you didn’t. Because I like this.”

“What is this?”

“This!” I gesture wildly between us. “What we’re doing right now. I like this, I like you.”

He looks so shocked, yet there’s a twinkle of happiness too. “Like me how? As...a friend?”

And he calls me oblivious. I squeeze his hand again. “That depends. I know it’s been a long time, so have your...feelings about me gone away?”

Baz stares at me, studying my face. I just watch his eyes roam over me again and again. Then he reaches forward and delicately places his hand on my cheek, just like last night. Except it feels more purposeful. And so much better.

“No,” he says quietly, “they haven’t gone away. I don’t think they ever could.”

My body feels so light and happy and indescribably full. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s hit me so suddenly, yet it feels so right. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Okay,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Baz’s hand falls, touching my arm. He raises a perplexed eyebrow. “Okay, but since when?”

I shrug, which makes Baz roll his eyes. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I do. That’s what really matters, right?”

He sighs. His hand moves up and down my arm. I can’t tell if he’s studying me or trying to hold on. “I suppose, yes.”

“Exactly. So why don’t we give it a shot?”

“What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” Baz’s lips falls open and hand slips slightly down my arm. I hold onto him tighter. “Like, fair warning, I’m not a great boyfriend. I forget things, I’m super clumsy, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Agatha, so my experience is limited. But I like you. And I’m not asking for something serious right now, I just want to give this a try. Do you maybe want to?”

Baz’s face is such strange, confusing mixture. His brows are tense and pulled together. They scream worry and doubt. His thin beautiful lips hang open is absolute disbelief. But his eyes, a mix of dark blue and dark green, are filled to the brim with hope.

“I’m a doctor,” he blurts out.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I reply, trying not to laugh.

He shakes his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. I’m a medical resident. I’m at the hospital almost every day. I have barely any free time, and if I do I use it to sleep. And I don’t have much experience either. I’ve had two semi serious relationships that both ended in flames. I’m terrible at everything relationship related, probably even more than you, Snow.”

Baz looks so frantic and scared, but he’s hanging on to my hand. In spite of harsh realities, he doesn’t want to let go. I think he’s expecting me to admit defeat and walk away. But what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I don’t want to let go either.

I move closer, and cup his face this time. Baz instinctively leans into it. “You called me Simon before.”

He lets out a bursting laugh, sudden and unwanted. He immediately calms down, but there’s a little smile there. “Really? That’s what you care about?”

“Yeah. Because I like hearing you say it, and I like this. So,” I squeeze his hand again, “I want to try, no matter the risks. We’ll just deal with the rest later.”

He gives me a doubtful expression. “That’s your solution? Put off thinking about the problems we may face?”

“Yup. Because I want this, you want this, and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess...”

Stupid bastard still overthinks everything. I don’t want his mind far away, I want it right here with me. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “Plus, I’d rather focus on other things right now.”

“Oh? What things?”

“Well, more a question.” I deliberately move my hand lower, tracing under his bottom lip. “You said you wished you had kissed me when we were in school.”

He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“So, do you still want to kiss me?”

His eyes flick down, just for a moment. I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Yes.”

I smile, leaning close so our noses brush. “Then do it.”

Baz doesn’t ask for anymore assurance. He just leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine. And my mind completely implodes.

His lips are colder than Agatha’s, than anyone’s really. It’s like kissing a soft autumn breeze. Just chilly enough to send shivers over your skin. Yet when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, I melt completely, leaning closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. He clutches my sides, hanging on with a death grip. Like he never wants to let me go. (I wouldn’t mind that.) It’s an awkward position, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I run my hand through his hair. It’s soft and slips through my fingers, just like I thought it would. I clench my fist and push his face into mine. I more feel him groan than hear it. He bunches my shirt in his own fists. I like him here, under my hands, not off being sad or drunk, where I know he’s okay. I’ve got you know, Baz, I’m not letting go.

From that first press of our lips, I know I want this. Baz feels perfect and wonderful. I want to kiss him forever. It’s strange, to have something you never knew you wanted before, and suddenly need to hang onto it forever.

We both pull apart at relatively the same time, flushed and out of breath. Baz’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown incredibly huge, and his lips are swollen and pink. I think mine are too, at least it feels like they are. I’ve never felt so elated from just one kiss. I’m sure I never will again.

“Wow,” I breathe out.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, so quiet and sweet. “Very eloquent.”

I chuckle too, twisting a strand of his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s all I can manage right now. I think you broke my brain.”

“Don’t stroke my ego too much, Snow. I’ll get a big head.”

“You mean a bigger one?”

Baz glares, but when I flash one grin, his entire face melts. My heart melts too. It’s in a goddamn puddle on the floor forever.

Baz presses one hand to his temple, eyes squinting shut. “Bloody hell, all the drinking and excitement is too much for my head.”

“Did you take the aspirin I left?”

“Yes, but apparently that only does so much. I want coffee.”

“I’ve got some. Probably not very fancy, but it’s good enough. That alright?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. It’s incredibly sweet, making me smile in return. “That would be wonderful, Simon.”

God, I want to hear him say my name like that a thousand times.

We reluctantly untangle ourselves, but our hands stay linked. I lead Baz to my tiny dining room table. He sits on the far side, facing the open space of my kitchenette. My hand drags across his as we reluctantly let go. I walk into the room and flip on my ancient coffee machine.

“How do you take your coffee?” I say over my shoulder. “Black?”

“Actually, I like a lot of cream and sugar.”

I laugh loudly and smile at him. “Still have a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of course. I still remember how you would steal my mint aeros.”

“You have no proof of that, Snow,” he singsongs.

His voice is light and joking. I look over my shoulder, and see his soft smile. I want to see that smile all the time. I want to find out every little happy expression he has, the ones I never got to see when we were kids.

“I’ll find some,” I reply..

“It’ll take a lot of coaxing.”

I lean against the counter, looking at him. Really looking at him. Baz Pitch, the former arsehole bully, now the mostly well adjusted altruistic doctor, still someone who can occupy most of my thoughts. This is all new yet so familiar.

“Good thing we’ve got time,” I say.

Baz leans his cheek on his palm. From his calm, happy expression, I know he agrees. We’ve got time to not just catch up, but start something strange and beautiful and new.

And I’ve never been so excited in my life.

———————————————

AN: Is this a bit unrealistic? Yes. Is this super adorable? Also yes. Hope you guys thought the same. I def enjoy writing drunk Baz and switching it up so Simon has glasses this time. And I like Simon's total obliviousness to his own feelings. He's a dumb romantic little shit lol. Thanks for reading, see y'all next time :D

PS: XOYO is a real bar. Hopefully they don't have to deal with drunk traumatized psychiatry residents too much lol.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Chapter 12 of Can’t Find My Way Home is up! Baz and Simon have finally made it home to Pitch Manor. What awaits them at Christmas dinner? Read at Ao3.

Simon  

We get to the dining room entrance and my palms start to sweat. Mr. and Mrs. Grimm have been nothing but polite to me so far but I’m still nervous about this. About us, I suppose.

Not us as in Baz and me. I’m not nervous about him, which is a new and exhilarating realization. He’d always made me twitchy before but it seems I’ve finally figured out why.

It’s more about announcing the fact that we’re dating to his family.

I mean, it’s not really announcing anything though, is it? I’m certain Mordelia has managed to do that for us already. And it’s not as if Baz and I have been that discreet in the last day. It just wasn’t around anyone either of us knew.

I’ve not had a serious relationship since Agatha. Being around her parents wasn’t quite so fraught; I knew them fairly well before we started dating, when we were just friends and they’d take me in for the Christmas holidays.

I’m not so good around people’s parents. I’m not sure how to act. I’m an outsider looking in, I suppose, and everyone’s level of comfort with their parents is different. It confuses me.

And then there’s Baz’s Aunt Fiona. She doesn’t just confuse me, she fucking unnerves me, with that piercing stare of hers and comments that bloody well flay you. I hope she’s not here.

I really hope she’s not here.

Baz pushes open the door to the dining room and I drop his hand as if it’s on fire. Fiona Pitch is sitting directly across from the doorway and her gaze goes right to us.

So does everyone else’s.

Fuck.

Baz’s fingers find mine again and he squeezes my hand. I feel hot, sweaty and shaky, but the cool touch of his hand on mine settles me just a bit. I don’t know why I’m freaking out right now, at the worst possible time, but it’s not like I’ve got control over it.

Baz rubs his thumb over mine and squeezes again, a little harder this time. I dart a look in his direction and see the flush on his cheeks but he’s got a bit of a smirk on his face. His chin’s up and I know this look. This is Baz ready to verbally spar with anyone.

And somehow it relaxes me. I take a breath and try to smile. I know I probably look a fright but I can do this. With Baz at my side, I can do this.

Fiona leans back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, her smirk a perfect match for the one Baz is sporting. “Baz, you finally found a bloke.”

“Fiona, you remember Simon, Baz’s roommate from Watford?” Daphne leans forward and gives Fiona a tight little smile.

“I’m sure you remember him,” Mr. Grimm chimes in. “Come, Simon.” He motions me over.  “I imagine you are sick to death of aeroplane food. Good thing you made it in time for Christmas dinner.”  

I stumble to an open seat next to Baz’s little brother. I can’t remember his name right now. Baz slides in next to me, bumps my leg under the table and then keeps his own pressed against my thigh. It’s reassuring.

Fiona’s still coolly appraising me, one eyebrow arched. It makes her look so much like Baz. “Well, it’s about damn time, Snow. I had assumed you were too thick to figure it out.”

I blink at her. “Figure what out?”

She rolls her eyes. “That Baz was pining for you all those years, you pillock.” She’s still smirking. “How many times did I tell you, Malcolm? You could cut the sexual tension in that room with a knife.”

“Leave it, Fiona.” Mr. Grimm gives her a stern look.

“Oh, come on, Malcolm. Let me revel in it for a moment, will you? Baz is finally shagging Mage’s Chosen One and I’m the last to know.”

Christ, I hate that nickname. Baz called me that first year, when he found out I was on scholarship to Watford. No one’s called me that for years. I truly despise it.

Fiona’s grinning at me now, glass raised. “Cheers, Snow. You’re the first bloke Baz has brought home to meet the family. When’s the announcement going in the Times?”

Baz groans. “Seriously, Fiona, put a sock in it.”

Mr. Grimm clears his throat. “Daphne, please pass the roast.”

And just as suddenly as it started it’s done. Everyone turns their eyes away from us and begins to dig in to the platters of food being sent around the table.

There are a fair number of platters. My stomach had been in knots for a few minutes there but it’s easing now as the first platter reaches me. It’s roast beef.

I love roast beef. It was always on my list of things I missed about Watford, when I’d go back to care in the summers. There’s roasted potatoes and chestnut stuffing and brussels sprouts with bacon and my appetite comes roaring back as the scent of the food overwhelms me.

This meal puts even Watford’s best to shame. I take second helpings of practically everything. I catch a glimpse of Baz’s face as he holds the platter of roast beef for me and he’s got that fond expression again.

We do the Christmas crackers then Mrs. Grimm brings out a massive trifle and sticky toffee pudding, and I may as well have died and gone to heaven. I feel stuffed and warm and full of goodwill towards mankind, even Fiona at this point.

Meal over, we make our way to the drawing room, where a large fire is already crackling merrily in the stone fireplace. I’m not sure where to sit or what to do, but Baz tugs me to one of the large sofas. His siblings immediately swarm us from all sides. One of the twins sits next to me, the other by Baz’s feet.

I’ve got no idea which one is sitting by me—they’ve got matching outfits on, just as Baz said, and I can’t tell them apart. Magnus is curled up in front of me and Mordelia is lounging next to Baz. She was all cool indifference at dinner, sporting the utterly bored look that Baz had perfected back at school. It’s uncanny how she channels him so well.

I dare a sidelong look at her. She’s not all cool indifference now. Her arm is tucked around Baz’s and as I peek at her she leans her head against his shoulder.

It’s so domestic. Baz’s parents are seated on the loveseat closest to the fire, talking quietly to each other. Fiona has taken over one of the massive stuffed leather armchairs across from them, wine glass full yet again.

And Baz is holding my hand.

Baz

It didn’t take long for my siblings to warm up to Simon. Mordelia is still attempting to be aloof and apathetic, but she’s been sizing Simon up since we walked in the door. Acantha has been pestering him with her awful puns since the trifle was served and Ophelia unexpectedly snuggled up to him on the sofa. She’s usually the more reserved one of the two.

And as expected, Magnus demanded bedtime stories. But not from me.

I’m leaning against his doorframe, watching Simon read to him. There’s an ache in my chest at the sight of them. At the sight of Simon, in my house. Part of my family holiday.

Part of my family.

It takes my breath away to think that something I’ve desperately wanted for so very long is right within my grasp.

Simon  

I don’t know why I’d let myself have such a panic at the start of dinner. Baz’s family is easier to interact with than Agatha’s, which is a bit of a stunner.

I always felt like I put Mrs. Wellbelove on edge, like she wasn’t sure I’d know how to act at dinner or how to behave when they’d take me to the Club or at the parties they’d have at their home. She was kind but almost wary. It made me fidgety, and then I’d just stumble over my words more or bump into something and generally make a nuisance of myself.

Fiona’s still scary as hell, but she’d been unexpectedly benign tonight. Other than that bit at dinner she hadn’t done much more than give me long, contemplative stares. Then she’d look at Baz and go all soft.

I’d kissed Baz goodnight, after story time with Magnus. He’d walked me to my room, a wistful expression on his face. I know it’s only been two nights, but it’s going to feel odd not sharing a bed with him.

I’m all tucked into the massive four poster bed when I first hear it. It sounds like a tap. I think it’s coming from the window. I pull the blanket up higher and burrow into the pillows.

Then it happens again. It’s more of a scratch this time.

I’d thought about the house being haunted when we first drove up but I hadn’t quite anticipated it to live up to that expectation.

The scratching sound comes again. I’m doing my best to ignore it. I do some deep breathing exercises and dive all the way under the blankets.

It’s not long before I get beastly hot. I run warm as it is and this bed has layers of covers on it. I’m roasting under here.

I poke my head out and shove the covers down. Silence.

Maybe I was imagining it.

I’m just getting comfortable, close to dozing off, when it happens again.

It’s not a tap this time. It’s a whoosh against the window and then a thump right outside.

And then I hear what sounds like a moan.

I’m contemplating making a runner down the hall to Baz’s room.

When the moaning sound comes again I do just that.

Baz

I’m finding it hard to settle in. I’m still functioning on New York time. I put another log on the fire, even though it’s already blazing hot. I pull a book from the shelf and curl up at the far end of the sofa, closest to the fireplace.

My bed looks far too big tonight. I mentally chide myself. I’ve had two nights sharing with Simon and I’m already pining for him, even though he’s just down the hall. It’s pathetic, really.

I’m only a few pages in when a knock comes on the door. I’m in no frame of mind for a heart to heart with anyone at the moment and certainly not a salacious inquiry from Fiona.

It’s Simon. His hair is in complete disarray, his face is flushed and he looks on edge.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t stay in there, Baz. I knew this place was haunted, as soon as I laid eyes on it.”

“What are you on about? The house isn’t haunted.”

Simon shakes his head. “My room is.”

I’d be tempted to suspect this was a ploy to inveigle himself into my room if he didn’t look so anxious.

“Baz, I’m telling you. There’s something moaning just outside, banging on the window and all.” His brow is furrowed and he’s jutting his chin out. Classic Snow expression.

“Show me.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

I sigh. “Simon.”

He’s got that obstinate expression I fell in love with now, all stubbornness and determination. Fucking gorgeous.  He shakes his head in answer.

“Fine. I’ll go see what’s got your knickers in a twist.” I take off down the hall towards his room and he’s right behind me. I give him a sidelong glance. “I thought you weren’t going back in there.”

“I’m not. But I’m not going to let you swagger on down there and then come back and tell me it was nothing.”

“It is nothing. And I don’t swagger.”

“Like hell you don’t.”

I step into his room while he stands in the doorway. It’s completely silent. “You see, Simon, no ghouls, no ghosts, no mysterious moaning wraiths.”

“Just you wait a minute. You’ll hear it.”

I raise an eyebrow and he growls in response. I stand, arms crossed, leaning against the bedpost. Simon takes a few tentative steps into the room and moves to stand next to me.

There’s a scrape at the window and then a muffled thump.

“There!” Simon looks triumphant. “I told you!”

I try to stifle my laughter but I can’t. It bubbles out of me, despite the irritated expression on his face.  

“What are you laughing at, you posh toff? I told you it’s haunted.”

I manage to pull myself together. “It’s not.”

There’s another sound just then and Simon points at the window defiantly. “What’s that moaning then?”

I can’t help it. I’m clutching the bedpost. “You poor sod. It’s a bloody owl.”

“What do you mean it’s a bloody owl?”

“Just that. It’s an owl. Likely a barn owl, from the sound of it. They’ve been known to roost in the chimneys from time to time.”

“You’re telling me all that racket, that moaning, is a sodding owl?” He’s incredulous.

He’s also fucking incandescent at the moment, full of righteous indignation, curls falling over his forehead, eyes blazing. He’s like a magnet, pulling me across the room until I’m right behind him, sliding my arms around his waist and dropping my chin onto his shoulder. “You’re in the country now, city boy.”

He scoffs but his hands drop to where mine are clasped around his waist. “A fucking owl. I feel like a complete berk.” Simon’s fingers slide up and down my forearms, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He lets his head fall back, his neck exposed. I ghost my lips up to his jawline. He makes a small, satisfied sound and his eyes close.

His breathing speeds up as my mouth continues to slide along the planes of his skin. He shifts in my arms and then Simon is facing me, mouth reaching up to meet my own. Fingers slide into my hair and I grasp his hips and pull him closer.

He pulls back, just enough space between us for him to form words. “I think this whole experience has me rattled. I don’t know how I could possibly sleep in here on my own.” The roguish expression on his face contradicts what he’s murmuring to me but I don’t care.

“I couldn’t possibly expect you to tolerate such disturbances to your beauty sleep, Simon. Seems I’ll have to offer you my bed and rough it on the sofa for the night.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” His fingers tighten in my hair.

“You’re offering to take the sofa? That’s quite gallant of you.” I can’t help grinning at him.

“You are such a wanker.”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say what you want, Simon.” It comes out a whisper.

He whispers back. “You.”

Simon

We’re far quieter going back to Baz’s room, stealthily making our way down the hallway. Baz shuts his door slowly, so it doesn’t make a sound.

He takes my hand and pulls me towards the sofa. I sink down next to him but then let myself slide down onto the floor. “Come here.”

Baz looks puzzled but he follows suit, shifting off the sofa until he’s seated next to me.

“I liked this, the other night.” I put my arm around his shoulder and pull him close. Baz tilts his head and I surge up to meet his lips, the drag and push of our mouths and tongues sending a wave of heat through me.

It could just be the blaze in the fireplace but I don’t think so. Baz makes me feel like there’s fire coursing through my veins, sizzling just under my skin. Like I could go fucking supernova just from his touch.

I’ve got him on his back moments later, me on all fours above him, sinking down to kiss him and then pulling back, making him reach for me.

He does, every time.

I pull back with a grin one more time and it’s his turn to growl. Before I know it, he’s pounced on me and dragged me down, pushing me to the carpet and then he stills, resting on one arm, face hovering above my own.  

He’s beautiful. I think I always knew how attractive Baz was but I never let myself admit it. Not until now. He’s stunning in the firelight, shadows and light playing across his face, eyes shining silver in the glow of the fire, skin like dark honey.

His expression’s serious now. I reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “What is it, Baz?”

“I go back to New York in a week.”

I nod. “I know.”

“You don’t . . . you don’t have to go tomorrow, if you don’t want to.”

My heart’s thumping in my chest. I’m not due back at the care home until Monday. “You sure? I know your family’s missed you, Baz. I’m sure they don’t want to have me hanging around another day.”

“I do.” He leans down to kiss me again, gentle and slow this time. “I’d have you stay here all week, if I could.”

I shake my head. “I’d take you up on that, if I didn’t have to be back at work on Monday.”

Baz’s hand comes to rest on my chest, fingers tracing the patterns on my pyjamas.  “I could head to London, meet you for dinner, before I go?”

“I’d like that.”

His brow creases. “You really want to do this, Simon? This long-distance thing?”

I nod my head. “I’d like to try. Penny and Micah did it for years. You’ll be back when? May? That’s not too long.”

“It’s five months. That’s too fucking long.”

It is too fucking long. I don’t tell him that. “There’s texts and phone calls and facetime. I’m not fussed about it.”

“I want this.” There’s a determination in his voice. It sends a thrill through me to hear it, to hear him say that about me.

“I want it too. More than I ever realized.”

“Stay tomorrow. I can drive you home tomorrow night or we can leave early Monday morning.”

I laugh. “I’ve got to get home before I go to work, Baz. I’ve got holiday clothes, not work clothes, in my bag.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “You can borrow something of mine.”

“I don’t fit your trousers. You told me so yourself.”

He’s leaning closer now, mouth hovering above mine again. “We’ll manage.”

Baz

I don’t know what time it is. I’ve been on the floor, kissing Simon Snow until my lips feel bruised.

“We should get to bed. This floor isn’t doing either of us any good.”

Simon goes up on one elbow and looks at my bed. “Don’t the gargoyles creep you out?”

“What? No, I don’t even notice them anymore.”

“Ha! They did creep you out at one point then.”

I shrug. Christ, what is with me? “I found them a little unnerving when I was young. But that was years ago. They’re just part of the décor.”

“Vampire Gothic.”

“It’s Victorian.”

“Fine, Victorian vampire lair then.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s vintage.”

Simon laughs. He darts another look at the bed. “They’re so many eyes. I’d feel like I was being watched the whole time.”

“Watched doing what?”

He raises an eyebrow at me suggestively.  I can feel my face start to burn. Memories of the summer after fifth year come to mind. And the summer after that. And . . . fuck it all.

I clear my throat. “You can’t see them when the lights are off.”

He juts out his chin. “I’d still know they were there.”

“You are impossible.”

“Just grab a pillow and we’ll make do here.”

“Simon, I am not going to sleep on the floor of my room when I have a serviceable and dare I say exceptionally comfortable bed just steps away.”

He looms over me, eyes wide, hovering just above my face. “A bed with a hundred weird eyes.”

I huff. “Fine.” I bring myself to my feet and march across the room to grab two pillows from the bed. I toss them across the room at him. He catches one but the other comes so rapidly that it hits him right in the face.

“Arse.”

“Coward.”

I grin at him and pull the comforter off the bed as well. I cross the room to him. “Come on, then. I suppose I’ll have to keep you company, since the owls and gargoyles unnerve you so much.”

“Come on where?”

“The sofa, you numpty. I told you I’m not sleeping on the floor.” All the furniture in my room is massive. We should manage just fine on the sofa, if a little snug. I have no complaints about that.

Simon comes to a stand as well. I take the pillows and push them to one end, up against the armrest. “This will have to do, I suppose.” I wave a hand at the pillows.

He takes the hint. He stretches out on the sofa, head pillowed on his arm, face bathed in the light of the fire, tawny gold and bronze. He’s a vision, straight out of one of my fantasies.

I sit and then slowly let myself drop down against the sofa cushions and the heat of Simon. I mirror his position, facing the fire. He curls himself around me, arm resting over my waist and then he tugs me closer. I can feel his breath on my neck, shivers going through me at the sensation, his chest pressed against my back.

I’m in Simon Snow’s arms. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.

Simon  

I breathe in the scent of his hair and gently touch my lips to his neck. I’m tired. I can barely keep my eyes open but I don’t need to see to do this, to touch Baz, to nuzzle against his neck and spoon myself around him.

He pulls the blanket over us and rests his hand on mine. I push my fingers up to twine with his. I wonder if he can feel my heart pounding. I can feel the flutter of his pulse under my lips.

As small sigh escapes me as I drop my head onto his shoulder. Baz’s cold feet tangle with mine but I don’t pull them away.

This feels so right. He’s the only familiar thing in this room and he’s the one thing I want to hold onto, for as long as I can.

I fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

Baz

The sun is streaming into the room by the time I wake up. I’m still in the circle of Simon’s arms, his breath still warm and regular on my neck. I could stay here all day, crammed together in the confines of my sofa.

I’m just going to revel in this moment.

I’ve nothing to do today. Boxing Day is usually quiet at my house. Father and Daphne never make plans. They know the children are rabid to play with their new toys and any other venture would be fraught with drama. Now that Daphne finally succumbed to letting them get a video game console I’m sure they’ll be glued to it all day, with a few breaks for squabbles and snacks.

I’ll steer clear.

I mentally run through my checklist for the week. I’ve made tentative plans to see Dev and Niall. I’ll likely spend at least one night at Fiona’s. We’ll sit around and watch 80’s films, drink a lot of wine and eat chocolate. It’s tradition.

Simon’s going to be working, come Monday. And I’ll be leaving on New Year’s Eve. To get back to New York in time to be at work bright and early January second. Americans truly have no regard for family time or holidays. It’s brutal. Two weeks’ vacation a year and I already burned through most of the first week at the end of the summer and this week will take me through the second.

I won’t get a chance to come back until May or after.

Five fucking months.

I’ll drive up to London, meet him for dinner, find some way to be with him before I have to leave again.

Simon stirs against my back and the arm across my waist tightens. “Stop thinking so hard.”

“I’m not thinking.” I am. I’ve got a million thoughts spinning through my head.

“You are. I can practically feel you ticking things off on your fingers.”

I can’t help but laugh. He’s right. It’s unnerving how well he reads me, how he can sense my thoughts, my discomfort.

But I know him too. I know what to expect when he juts his chin out, when he balls his fists at his side, when he tilts his head as if he’s listening to something just out of range. When his eyes blaze, when they soften, when he pulls at the curls on his head.

I’ve watched the moods of Simon Snow for so very long that each one is familiar to me.

Each one except the new ones that make my skin tingle and my heart pound in my chest. The fond looks, the tender gestures, the way his eyes rest on me and make me feel like I am the center of his world.

Simon’s kissing my neck now and I shift in his arms so I’m facing him, reaching up to sink my hands in his hair.

“I’m going to miss you.” That’s not what I meant to say.

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I’m going to miss you too, but I don’t want to talk about that.” He leans in to brush his lips to mine. “It hurts to think about things I can’t have or can’t help.”

“You can have me.” Once again words leave my lips that I’d not intended to say. I mean them, with every fibre of my being, but I hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

He smiles that smile I’ve grown to love in the last few days. The one that makes me feel like it’s meant just for me.

“Not the way I’d like to but I’ll find a way to manage until May.”

I wish we were back at Ebb’s. A place where no one knows us, where the days are our own, where the nights come down to nothing but the two of us.

My lips find his once more. Simon’s fingers slip between the buttons of my pyjama shirt and come to rest against my stomach, gently rubbing against my skin, and I can't think of anything except his touch. Until a knock comes on the door, that is.

What I’d give for some sodding privacy.

I groan and come to a seated position. The knock comes again, louder this time.

“So help me, Baz, I’m going to walk in if you don’t open this door. You’ve had all night to shag your boyfriend or wank away to the thought of him. Open up. I’m leaving for London in an hour, you twat.”

Fuck. It’s Fiona.

She’s always got some bash to go to on Boxing Day. Watford friends. They all go drinking, slumming and clubbing in Covent Garden. It’s a whole scene. She’s wrecked for days after.

The knocking comes again and there’s a warning twist to the doorknob. I never even thought to lock it last night. Blast the woman.

“Hush.” I whisper to Simon and then I’m dashing across the room.

I open the door partway, positioning myself in the opening, effectively blocking all sight of him. “Sod off, Fiona. I’m still on the blasted New York clock.”

Fiona raises an eyebrow. She’s all kitted out for her day—black leather jacket, black mini-skirt with tights, her kick-ass black boots. Makeup on point, lipstick blood red. “Nice try, boyo, but your boyfriend forgot to close the door to his room last night. It’s empty and he’s nowhere to be found.”

She goes up on tiptoe to try to peek around me, a feral smile on her face. “Why don’t you invite me in for a little chat before I go?”

I think the hell not.

“I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.”

“It’s midday, you pillock. Almost one o’clock.”

It’s a bit of a standoff now. Fiona has a triumphant look on her face. She may have to leave in an hour but knowing her she’ll spend the whole sodding hour lurking about my room for confirmation that I’ve got Simon squirreled away in here.

I don’t dare look behind me at Simon. That will give the whole thing away. I lean out a bit and lower my voice. “I promise I’ll tell you everything when I come up on Wednesday.”

Her grin is exultant. “That means you’ve got something to tell me then.” She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe.

Fuck.

I hear shuffling behind me. Blast it. I lean my head against the edge of the door. “Fiona. . .”

She’s beaming now and focused on something just over my left shoulder. I feel the heat of Simon before I turn my head for confirmation.

“Uh, hi?”

He’s standing right behind me and Fiona is grinning like a madwoman. “Good afternoon, Snow.”

Simon shuffles his feet and gives me an apologetic look. “I’ve got to use the loo. It seemed like you weren’t going to wrap this up too quick.”

“Yes, right.” I move aside and make room for Simon to sidle out the door. He gives Fiona a brief nod of the head and then he’s making a runner down the hallway.

Deserter.

The smug look on her face makes my skin flame. She shoves me in the chest and pushes into the room. “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch I never thought you’d have it in you to shag your boyfriend in the venerable confines of Pitch Manor!”

“I’m not shagging him, you frightful wretch.” This is peak Fiona. She has no filter and absolutely no boundaries when it comes to privacy. It’s maddening and also comforting.

She was the first person I came out to. She took me out for my first night of clubbing. She was the first person I ever got drunk with. Fiona’s like a fairy godmother except more like Maleficent than the pastel trio. And lot more fun.

She takes in the sight of the rumpled bed linen and the pillows and comforter on the sofa and starts to laugh. “Jesus, Baz, you are such a Vestal virgin. Did you seriously make your boyfriend spend the night on your sofa?”

“Shut up, Fiona.”

She pulls me into her arms, her embrace as fierce and firm as ever. “You look happy, you besotted prick. So does he. Don’t fuck this up.” She takes my face in her hands and leans up, grey eyes dark and deliberate. “I mean it, Baz. You’ve got the capacity to talk yourself in circles.” She flicks my forehead with her index finger. “Don’t think so hard. Enjoy this. You finally have what you’ve wanted for so long.” She flicks me again. “Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.”

She squeezes the breath out of me and steps back to the door. “You can bring Snow if you want, on Wednesday.”

“I think that’s likely the best way to fuck it up, don’t you?”

Fiona laughs. “That gives me hope for you, you utter berk. Snog the hell out of him as long as you can and come around on Wednesday. I’ll have Breakfast Cluband Local Hero, more salt and vinegar crisps than you can inhale in a night, and enough wine to loosen even you up.”

I hug her back. “Thanks, Fiona.”

She’s out the door and I can hear her boots thumping down the stairs. Fiona’s a force of nature. I love her to bits but she comes on a bit strong. I think it’s best Simon’s only exposed to her in short bursts. Mordelia’s enough for one weekend.

I poke my head out and look down the corridor. Simon peeks out of his bedroom at the same time, eyes wide.

I shake my head at him. He doesn’t budge. “She’s gone.” I hiss it down the hall.

He shakes his head back, jaw jutting out. I sigh and make my way to his door. “She’s gone,” I repeat.

“That may be, but I’m not taking the chance on Mordelia or Magnus or anyone else coming to find you. That was more than enough for me.”

“Fiona’s just a lot of fuss and bother. Her bark’s worse than her bite.” “She’s fucking terrifying.” Simon’s face is flushed and he looks good enough to eat.

“You’ll get used to her.” I like the thought of that.

“Like getting used to a fucking cyclone.”

“She’s been on her best behaviour so far.”

“I’m doomed.” Simon’s brow is furrowed. I reach out a finger and smooth the lines on his forehead. His expression relaxes at my touch.

“You’re not doomed. It means she likes you.”

“I think the fuck not. She was glaring at me the whole night."

“That’s her fond glare. You’ll get used to it.”

Simon’s stomach chooses this moment to rumble loudly. “Alright, you nightmare. Get dressed. It’s obviously time to feed you again.” I lean in and press a kiss to his forehead. His fingers find mine and he pulls me close, a brush of lips before he pulls away. “Come to my room when you’re ready.”

[wordsandwickedthings]

welcome to burlesque

Simon is a college student in the 1960s, pulled away from what his friends would call a boring evening to go to a burlesque show at an underground gay club. Despite Simons worries, he can't take his eyes off the main performer who goes by the stage name Pitch.

warning: alludes to homophobia  

I haven’t written anything in months and have also been breaking out into hives, no correlation I'm sure.

                                                  _________

This was the last place anyone would expect to find Simon Snow – mostly because he wasn’t there by choice.

Underground gay burlesque clubs weren’t exactly something that Simon would seek out. But then again, between school and his job at the factory, Simon didn’t seek out something that anywhere that sells food or his own bed much these days. Because of this fact his friends, Penny and Lucas, decided to force him out of the apartment for the night.

The club was hidden behind an old tavern that was built in the 1800s, the sign hanging above a boarded-up door so faded he could barely make out the words Hanna’s.

“Why are you so stiff, Golden boy?” Lucas came up from behind Simon, tugging on one of his golden curls.

Simon rolled his eyes, “because you guys are determined to get me arrested.”

“gay clubs aren’t illegal,” Penny said, coming up to walk beside him.

“tell that to all the clubs the cops raid.”

“And this,” Lucas said, walking up the back door of the building, in the very center a faded heart sticker. “this is why you need to get out of the house.”

Lucas knocked on the door.

Simon didn’t understand that, but he didn’t get a chance to think of something witty because the door rattled and pulled open, a man sticking his head out. He was a big man; Simon could see under his button-up he had more muscles then Simon knew existed in the human body.

Crowley, if he gets beat up, he was going to kill Lucas.

“Who are you?” the man had a soft voice for someone with a stature like his.

“We’re meeting a friend here,” Lucas looked more nervous now that the man’s eyes were focused on him, “Niall.”

The man shrugged, swinging the door open and ushering them forward.

If Simon thought he was a fish out of water walking up the club, his fears were confirmed when walked through the rusted door. It looked like any other bar, a thick layer of smoke blurring the people sitting at high tables with drinks spread out in front of them.

Simon was pulled to a table where Niall was sat at. Simon had seen Niall around campus a few times, and Lucas had mentioned they shared a few classes together, but other than that the guy was a total stranger.

“hey man.” Lucas and Niall shook hands, clapping each other on the shoulders in a far to synchronized way that Simon could not grasp how they planned it. “did we miss your friend?”

They all took a seat around the man; Simon tried to look like he wasn’t super uncomfortable, crossing his arms and resting his elbow on the table.

“oh, don’t worry, he’s up next.”

Penny smiled, “what’s his name again?”

“his stage name is pitch.” Niall said, taking a sip of his drink.

Lucas cocked an eyebrow, “is that his real name?”

Niall gave him a smile, “No. He’ll be out later, you can ask him then.” The smile looked loose on the outside, but Simon could see the tightness on the edges of his lips.

“mysterious,” Penny said, Precautious Simon wanted to supply.

“Simon, you need to relax, let me buy you a drink.” Lucas stood up, moving towards the bar.

Simon grabbed him by his sleeve, “please make it strong.”

Penny laughed, asking for everyone’s drink orders while getting up to join the Blonde – knowing he wouldn’t remember what the other three wanted.

“Sorry about them,” Simon breaks the silence, “they don’t understand what everyone’s risking… you know performing here…like this.”

Niall smiled again, shrugging, “I wouldn’t expect them to, and I wouldn’t want them to.”

Music started playing, cutting off anything Simon was about to say. It was slow, the piano and the drums going back and forth like they were having a conversation. Two women coming out, giant feather fans covering half their bodies; when they moved the feathers away, stretching out their arms so the fans were covering the center of the stage, brushing against each other. Other instruments came into the conversation, Simon could recognize a saxophone and bass.

The fans parted slightly a figure peeking out from behind them – Simon understood now why they called him pitch, his hair was jet black, falling to his chin in curls that framed his sharp cheekbones. His eyes were pained gold matching the gold of his lipstick, glitter was pressed into the crease of his eyelids, so they sparked against the spotlight on him. He was wearing a dress as raven black as his hair, that left little to the imagination, the lower part of the dress ending at his upper thigh, the upper part clung to his skin coming up to his chest, with two strands of fabric wrapped around the back of his neck to keep the entire thing up.

Simon didn’t think he had to worry about the dress falling off, it looked like it was pinned to his skin.

The music started to pick up then, and Pitch moved his visible hip along with the beat, rolling his shoulder so he was standing straighter. He rolled his neck next, tantalizingly slow. Simon barely registered Lucas and Penny coming up behind him, putting an array of drinks on the table that looked like too much for only four people to consume.

“you okay, Simon?” penny said, smirking.

“huh.” He didn’t turn to look at her.

She just shook her head, laughing at him.

Pitch took one of the fans from the girl to his left, grabbing her by the chin to kiss her on the cheek. She got the message, scurrying off the stage, he shooed the other girl away – winking at her and kissing the air in her direction. The raven-haired boy only kept one of the fans, positioning it so it covered all the upper half of his body and half of his face, as he moved his hips in rhythm with the music. Then he raised one of his arms, lowing the feathers so you could see his collar bone shifting along with the muscles in his bicep. He moved his hair to one side, pulling the strap of his dress undone.

This is when Simon realized that it wasn’t a dress at all, the top falling on the ground to puddle around the heels the golden-haired boy just realized he was wearing.

Now all that was covering Pitches chest was the feathers, his collar bone completely exposed. He moved his shoulders along with the music and then with a loud bang from the drums Pitch twisted so his back was facing the audience now. He continued to sway to the music, his shoulder blades rolling with the beat. There was another crash from the drums, and Pitch dropped to the ground – now kneeling with his back still to them.

Simon choked on his drink. Niall reached over and patted him on the back, wearing a similar smirk to what penny had.

Pitch rolled his shoulders, shimming them to the rhythm.

He let his backdrop, angling his head so he could still see out into the crowd, smirking at everyone. With the feather at his side, Simon could see all of his chest, the rhythmic rising and falling of his ribs as he breathed. The dancer began to sway his hips when still on his back, pulling up his skirt so more of his thigh was shown.

Simon took in a gasp of air, and instantly cursed himself for it, because since they were so close to the stage that sharp intake of air attracted Pitch’s eyes to him. He was suddenly angry at Niall for choosing a table so close to the stage, and at Lucas for making him come here in the first place, and at Pitch for looking at him in a way that made him squirm. The dancer blew a kiss at Simon, and he willed himself not to blush.

He jumped up then, stretching his arms out wide to his side, shimming his shoulders again. With a wink over his shoulder, Pitch danced off the stage. There was a final crash of the drums, and Pitches skirt went flying into the middle of the stage.

Niall burst out laughing as the music started to fade, turning into a rhythmic background beat.

Penny bounced up and down in her seat, “that was so good!”

“Yeah, what did you think Simon?” Lucas turned to his friend, smirking.

Simon’s face heated up, “uh, it was really, uh,” he cleared his throat, “Penny’s right, it was really good.” He smiled hoping to Alastair his face wasn’t as red as he suspected it was. His stumbling only made the boys laugh more. The golden-haired boy downed a random drink on the table.

Simon didn’t even register there was another group of dancers coming on stage, because out of the corner of his eyes he saw a flash of raven black. Pitch walked out of one of the side doors - instead of his costume though, he was wearing tight black jeans and a loose white dress shirt that was only buttoned up halfway.

Pitch made a beeline for their table, clapping his hands against Niall’s shoulders when he closed the distance. “what’d you think, darling?” he shoved the sitting boy playfully. Niall swat at him, smiling up at his friend, “Your rhythm was off a bit.”

Pitch tilted his head like a dog and smiled, “if you want to take my place next time, just say so.”

The other boy rolled his eyes, waving his hands to the other people at the table, “these are my friends from college; that’s Penny, and Lucas,” he turned to look at the freckled face at the table, waving his hand at him, “and Simon.”

Simon’s friends stiffened their giggles next to him. He smiled up at the dancer, trying to will off a blush while looking casual at the same time. The boy was very aware he wasn’t succeeding.

Pitch looked over at him, the smile he was wearing only making Simon blush further, “hi,” he reached his hand out to the three, shaking Simon’s hand last, “my name is Baz.”

Niall raised his eyebrow at his friend, who had taken a seat in between him and Simon. “what happened to anonymity?”

Baz shrugged, “you vouch for them, don’t you? I trust them then.”

“why do you need anonymity?” Penny asked out of the blue, taking a sip from her drink.

Simon watched Baz’s smile twitch, but he held himself well – keeping his body relaxed and his smile easy, “because,” his smile tightened, “I don’t want to go to jail just for being me, I don’t want someone to decide my life is his to take.”

“oh,” penny said, taken aback, “oh, I’m sorry I didn’t even think-”

Lucas stared at him in horror; it wasn’t that he didn’t understand how intense bigotry could be, it was that he didn’t think about it often – Simon had to remind him a lot what a privilege that was. Penny understood it better than most, her skin color makes her a target everywhere she went, but even she sometimes forgets that the inability to be yourself freely – to love freely – was a crippling thing.

“You really have a flair for dramatics Basil.” Niall let out a breathy laugh trying to loosen the mood.

Simon, however, burst out laughing, a true genuine sound from deep in his chest, “Basil? I’m sorry, I don’t know why I find that so funny.”

Baz’s cheeks flushed pink. “my full name is Basilton, and he thinks he is funny.”

“Basilton?” Lucas asked.

He shook his head, “old money comes with weird requirements.”

“I’m sorry,” penny blurts, “I didn’t mean to ask you abrasive questions.”

Baz shook his head, “no, no. I know you mean no malice, ignorance is not the same as cruelty.”

Niall slammed down the shot glass he had just emptied, stating, “well friends, it seems we have run out of alcohol.”

There was a chorus of disappointment from the table until Baz piped up, “I got the next round.” He stood up to move to the bar.

Penny slapped Simon’s chest, “Ow!”

“Simon will go with you to help carry,” she told him, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

Every eye at the table fell on him, “I guess I’m coming to help carry.”

When Baz’s back was turned Simon mouthed, I hate you.

Penny’s only reply was to make a heart with her hands and look through it.

“So,” Baz said when they got to the bar, “you got thrown to the wolves.”

“you don’t look much like a wolf,” Simon said before the normal part of his brain could stop him. “I mean – you don’t – obviously you’re not-” his stammering fell in rhythm with Baz’s chuckling. “you’re not scary,” he said finally.

“Thanks?” the other boy asked.

The bartender gave Simon a sympathetic when he came to take their order.

“So, Simon,” the dancer started, “I’ve haven’t seen you around here before, is that for the same reason I haven’t seen Penny and Lucas?”

It took the golden-haired boy a moment to process what he was saying, looking over at his two best friends who had their hands interlocked, “No, no, no, I’m – I mean I like – I also like girls but I also like…y’know.”

Baz nodded, clearly not fully convinced. He took a step closer to Simon, opening his mouth to say something but stopped when Simon shrank away, looking around in fear. “anyways, uh, how long have you been a dancer?”

“you don’t have to here, you know,” Baz cut him off, leaning against the bar.

“have to what?”

“Be lesser, hide who you really are,” he leaned closer, and Simon couldn’t help but take a step back again, creating distance where he didn’t really want any. “You’re safe here,” Baz told him, “you don’t have to hide from anyone.”

Simon forced out a laugh, “who says I do that.”

Baz took another step forward, catching him by the bicep, the two boys close enough the blonde could feel the dancer’s breath on his chin. “You do, every time you shrink away.” Simon fumbled, and Baz backed off, “I mean – I could be assessing the situation wrong, if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop, I’m sor-”

Simon closed the gap, pressing his lips against the other boy in what he hoped was a convincing answer. He tried to ignore the dozens of people around him, focusing on the fact Baz had wrapped his arm around his back – pulling him closer to his chest. Simon brought his hands up to cup Baz’s head, running his hands through his hair as they tried to figure out who was leading this.

They pulled away too soon for either's liking, catching their breath. The golden-haired boy couldn’t help the giggle that escapes him when he remembered where they were, trying to will away the blush rushing to his cheeks.

Then the lights flashed white, a signal that was becoming too familiar in clubs like these. Both the boy’s smiles dropped as someone in the bar yelled out, “Cops!”

[angelsfalling16]

Jealous

Summary: After catching Simon making out with someone underneath the football stands, Baz plots a way to break them up while Simon comes to terms with his feelings for someone different.

Word Count: 4037

A/N: I wrote this one 20 first kisses style, and it was a lot of fun. I miss writing those fics sometimes. I hope you all like this fic!

Read on ao3

***

Baz

“What the hell?” I shout, not caring about lowering my voice. I feel Dev tugging on my arm, but I’m frozen to the spot, unable to look away from the sight in front of us.

“Baz, let’s just go before they see us.”

“But look at the two of them,” I say, gesturing at the couple making out, barely hidden by the football stands. “How can Simon be kissing Andi?”

“Because he likes them?”

I sneer at Niall, and he snaps his mouth shut.

“I thought he was still with Wellbelove.”

“They broke up a couple of weeks ago. Didn’t you hear?”

Of course Dev would know that. He and his dirty crush on her would betray me in a second.

“No, I obviously did not know that,” I hiss.

Dev pulls on my arm again, harder this time, and I finally go with him, shaking off his touch and all but stomping away from Simon and his unsightly escapades with one of my own teammates.

Andi is the second-best player on the team (behind me, of course), and up until now, I considered them a friendly acquaintance, rather than one of my adversaries, but that just changed.

“Why Andi of all people?” I ask, mostly to myself, but Dev responds anyway.

“I thought you said Andi just likes to mess around.”

“They do.”

“So maybe Simon is just messing around with them.”

“And how would that make this better?”

It would be one thing if Simon actually cared about them, but knowing that he’s just having fun means that he could be kissing lots of people, which is so much worse than him kissing the same person multiple times.

“Why do you care?” Dev asks.

“I don't.”

“Liar. Baz, we’re not stupid. We know how you look at him and why you have yet to find a way to take him down like your aunt wants you to.”

“It doesn't matter,” I say, neither confirming nor denying my feelings for Simon. I know that it’s no use. “He's with someone else.”

“It could all blow over. Maybe he was just experimenting.”

“It still doesn't matter because he will never like me. Now, let’s drop it. I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

But I can’t stop thinking about it

That night, as I pretend to be asleep and definitely not staring at Simon through the darkness, at the way the moonlight illuminates his freckles, I keep replaying what I saw over and over in my head. 

Simon’s hands in Andi’s hair. Andi’s hand slipping into Simon’s back pocket. Simon pulling them closer and smiling widely at them.

The images are forever burned into my mind, and something sharp and painful flares up in my chest.

I was admittedly jealous when Simon started dating Wellbelove, but this is different. This is new.

Maybe some part of me believed that if Simon ever broke up with her, he would come to his senses and want to be with me. It’s a ridiculous fantasy, which is why I’m sure the real reason I’m upset is that I had just hoped to never have to see him with anyone else or see him doing anything like that. He and Wellbelove always seemed to be against any sort of public displays. I rarely even saw them hold hands.

Seeing Simon kiss someone is a new, painful thing that threatens to tear me apart.

I can’t do anything to change it, but I can avoid Simon for the rest of eight year and try to forget about it. Which is exactly what I plan to do. After tonight, there will be no more thoughts about Simon kissing anyone.

 Simon

Andi walks by mine and Penny’s table at breakfast, and they grin when they see me, throwing a knowing wink in my direction. I smile back before turning back to my breakfast, feeling a strange little flutter in my stomach.

“Simon, tell me you didn't,” Penny says, and I shrug sheepishly at her.

“I did.”

She groans, and I can already tell what she’s thinking.

“It was just a kiss,” I say. A really nice kiss, but still, it was just one kiss. It’s not a big deal.

“Come on, Simon. Andi?”

“There's nothing wrong with Andi.”

“I know, but they kiss everyone. It didn't mean anything to them.”

“So? It didn’t really mean anything to me either. I was just um…” I trail off. I’m not sure what it was exactly.

I ran into them after football practice, and we got to talking. And then, I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss them, and they didn’t seem against it, so I just went for it. I don’t plan on doing it again. I don’t have feelings for them.

“Seeing what it was like to kiss someone other than Agatha?” Penny suggests when I don’t continue what I was saying.

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”

She thinks about it for a moment before saying, “Is there someone who you’re hoping to...experiment with next?”

I feel my face warm immensely as one person comes to mind. Someone who I can never stop thinking about, no matter how hard I try to push them out of my mind.

“Kind of,” I admit. “I think I like someone actually.”

“Ooh, do tell,” Penny says, leaning close to me. She’s never been one to be interested in gossip, but she seems particularly intrigued by what I’m about to say.

I look down at the table, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement. It’s a weird experience because I never had to tell her how I felt about Agatha. That was always obvious, but this is different.

“No judging,” I tell her.

“Promise.”

I take a deep breath, then, all in a rush, I say, “It’s Baz.”

“I knew it!” Penny exclaims, making people turn their heads in our direction to see what’s going on.

“Shh. I don’t want everyone to know. Wait. How do you know?”

“Simon, please. You're obsessed with him.”

“I wouldn't say obsessed.”

Penny scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Fine. Maybe I am the tiniest bit obsessed. But in my defense, he has plotted against me in the past.”

“I can’t believe you’re in love with a vampire,” she says.

“I'm not in love,” I say defensively and possibly a little too loudly because it causes someone to stop suddenly just beside our table.

Swallowing nervously, I look up, hoping to see just some nosy first year, but of course, that’s not my luck. Baz sneers at me in disgust before turning and continuing on his way, Dev and Niall hurrying after him.

“Thanks, Penny,” I groan once Baz is out of earshot, letting my head fall onto the table, narrowly missing the plate of butter. “Thanks a lot.”

She laughs lightly at my mortification, and I groan again.

I can’t believe that I just embarrassed myself like that in front of Baz. I mean, I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him plenty of times before, but this was worse. I can only hope that he didn’t hear everything we said so that he doesn’t know that we were talking about him.

That would be even worse.

 Baz

“Love?!” I exclaim as soon as I step out of the dining hall. “Simon is in love with them?”

“I'm pretty sure he said he wasn't in love,” Dev says.

“And you don't know that he was talking about Andi,” Niall adds unhelpfully.

“Who else would he be talking about the day after we caught him kissing Andi?”

The two of them are silent as they catch up to me, struggling to match the quick pace that I’ve set.

“We have to do something,” I decide.

“You want to break them up?” Niall asks.

“Yeah. Sure. Break them up,” I say, distracted by all of the ideas that are already running through my mind.

Forget ignoring Simon and forgetting about the kiss. Things just got a lot more serious, and I do not want to have spend the rest of the year seeing him in love with someone else. I have to put an end to this before it’s too late.

A more permanent ending than just breaking them up.

“You aren't going to physically harm either of them are you?” Dev asks like he knows that I don’t just intend to break them up.

“No. Of course not.”

“I wish that sounded more believable.”

I ignore him and begin plotting out what I’m going to do about this.

It takes staying up all night down in the Catacombs, but I finally come up with the perfect plan, and it begins with confronting Simon. I’m not sure what exactly I’m going to say, but it’s going to be something along the lines of he’s making a mistake and that Andi isn’t the right partner for him.

If that doesn’t go well — which I know it won’t — then I will move onto part two, which has something to do with getting Andi as far away from Watford (and Simon) as possible.

I plan to talk to Simon the next day, after classes are over and I can find a way to get him alone. I want to do this as soon as possible.

 Simon

“I’m going to talk to Baz,” I tell Penny the next day at lunch.

“About what?”

“I’m going to tell him how I feel about him.”

“Wait it’s only been a day. Why are you moving so quickly?”

“Speak now or forever hold your peace, right?” I say. Now that I’ve said how I feel about him out loud to someone, I don’t think I can stop until I know if there is a possibility that Baz feels the same.

“That’s for weddings Simon. I don’t think that applies here. Don’t you think you should take some time to think about it before you rush into it?”

“If we’re being honest, I’ve been thinking about it for years. I was just never sure of my feelings until now. And I need to know if he feels the same.”

“What if you get hurt?”

I’ve been asking myself that same question since I decided to talk to him, but I’ve decided that knowing the truth has to be better than always wondering.

“At least I'll know.”

She sighs like she knows there’s no use trying to argue with me on this. I’ve already made up my mind. I just wanted her to know what I will be doing in case something goes horribly wrong, and for some reason, she can’t find me. There is no telling how Baz will react.

“Are you sure about this?

“Surer than I've been about anything in my life.”

“Okay. Good luck. When are you going to tell him?”

“Tonight after dinner.”

It’s soon, but I can’t contain my feelings any longer. I have been unknowingly suppressing them for long enough now. It’s time for me to let go and act on them.

I just hope I don’t get hurt in the process of doing so. I hope he feels the same way.

 Baz

It’s almost time for dinner, and I still haven’t found a good opportunity to talk to Simon. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to find him before dinner so that I can talk to him, but I’m running late after football practice.

Dev and Niall are walking with me, and it’s Niall who sees them first. I think he tries to usher me past, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen them.

“Seriously?” I say, managing not to shout this time. “Is that Andi’s special place they take people or what?”

Football practice just ended and they have already found someone to make out with under the stands. Someone who is unmistakably not Simon.

I feel my hand clench into a fist, ready to hit Andi. How could they do this to Simon?

I’ve taken a step towards them when someone yanks me back.

“Don’t,” Dev says. “It’s not worth it.”

“I have to do something.”

“No, you don’t. You’ll get into trouble.”

“Fine. I won’t hit them, but I have to tell Simon.”

A look passes between Dev and Niall, and I can tell that they think that I’m going to do it to be cruel, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Yes, I hate the thought of Simon being with someone else, but I hate that person cheating on him even more. Simon deserves to know the truth. I want to try to save him from the heartbreak of being strung along by someone who obviously doesn’t care about him and finding out the truth on his one.

I keep walking away from Andi and their cheating ways, trying to come up with a way that I can break this to Simon without him hating me for it.

Dev and Niall don’t understand why I’m doing this, why I can’t just leave Simon alone, so we decide to part ways. It’s a good thing because it won’t do to have an audience when I do this.

Deciding to skip dinner and talk to Simon afterwards, I go up to our room to shower and then head down to the Catacombs to feed and think this through some more.

I don’t think that there’s an easy way to tell Simon that his partner is cheating on him, so I will just have to tell it to him straight. He already hates, so really, I’m the best person for this job. It’s not likely that he can hate me anymore than he already does.

He can get as mad at me as he wants. I just want him to know the truth.

 Simon

Baz isn’t at dinner, which makes me nervous, but it's fine. I can wait until we're in our room to confront him. That will actually be better because if he decides to get all murdery on me after I tell him how I feel, the Anathema will kick in and protect me.

I'm so nervous about what I'm going to do that I can't eat. Not even the steaming plate of sour cherry scones looks tempting.

Penny tries to get me to eat, but I'm worried I'll be sick before I manage to say what I need to say to Baz. What happens if he doesn’t feel the same way about me? Will it change things between us? Will he be so disgusted that he’ll be the one requesting a roommate change this time?

I hate thinking that finding out that I like him will turn him against me even more, but that’s why I need to know the truth. I need to know if he’ll only ever hate me, or if there is a good reason that I’ve fallen for my vampire roommate.

Baz is waiting under a tree just outside of the Tower when Penny and I step outside, and I falter in my steps as he waves at me, a strange occurrence. The most he ever does to acknowledge me is sneer, so this is different. Is it possible that he already knows that I want to talk to him?

"You’ve got this," Penny whispers, giving my arm a squeeze before heading off toward her room. I wish she would stay, if only to bear witness to whatever Baz decides to do.

"Hi," I say warily as I make my way over to where he is standing.

"I would like to speak to you about something," he says stiffly, looking over my shoulder, like he would rather be doing anything but talking to me.

I won't let it get to me, though. I'm going to do this.

"I wanted to talk to you, too,” I say.

"Fine. But not here." He’s still distractedly watching the other students who are slowly exiting the dining hall. It’s like he's worried about being seen by someone. I wonder who could have him acting like this.

“Alright. Where then?” I ask.

“Our room.”

“Okay.”

With one last hard look at the people behind me, Baz turns on his heel and heads in the direction of Mummers House, not even bothering to check if I'm following him.

I do. Of course, I do. I’ve been following him for years. I’m not about to stop now.

Baz doesn’t stop moving or look behind him until we are safely shut away in our room, away from the rest of the world.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask when he just looks at me for a long moment with an unreadable expression.

“Andi.”

“What about them?”

“They’re cheating on you.”

“No, they’re not.” What is Baz on about?

“They are,” he says insistently, stepping towards me, where I still stand beside the door. “I saw them.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what you saw, but I can promise you that that isn’t true.”

“Before dinner, I saw them kissing someone under the football stands. The same place I saw them kissing you yesterday.” He looks away from me as he says this, like it’s hard for him to say.

“Oh.” Oh. Baz thinks that Andi and I are a couple. I feel myself blush, knowing that Baz saw me with them the other day. I didn’t think anyone saw us. “It’s not what you think,” I tell him.

“Then, what is it?”

“Andi and I aren’t together. They are allowed to kiss whoever they want.”

“What?” He asks, looking back at me, frowning. “But you were just together yesterday.”

“It isn’t like that.”

“What is it like?”

I open my mouth to respond, but I start to wonder why he cares. It isn’t any of his business.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” I say. It doesn’t matter why I kissed Andi, and I don’t have to explain it to Baz.

His jaw moves like he’s gritting his teeth, and his eyes flash. He takes a couple of steps towards me, wearing that expression he always does right before he hits me, and I throw my hands up to stop him.

“The Anathema,” I say.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he sneers. “I just want to know what’s going on with you and Andi.”

“Nothing. Why do you even care?” I ask curiously. Is Baz jealous?

“How can it be nothing? I saw that kiss. It didn’t look like nothing.”

“Again, why do you care?”

“I don’t. I just—.”

“Just what?” I need him to tell me, to say something that would give me a clue to whether or not he likes me.

“I thought you liked them. And I just thought you might want to know if they were cheating on you.”

“Well, thank you,” I say slowly, surprised by the softness in his tone. “But they aren’t cheating on me.”

“I can see that now, but you like them, don’t you? Why else would you kiss them?”

“There are lots of reasons to kiss someone,” I say. “It doesn’t have to mean that I like them. They aren’t the person that I like,” I add, wondering if there is still a way for me to say what I wanted to tonight.

“Oh. So, you were what? Trying to make someone jealous with that kiss?” Baz asks, sounding somewhat angry.

I shake my head. “No. I just wanted to know what it was like to kiss them.”

“Even though you like someone else?”

“Yes, because I don’t think that other person will ever like me back.” If the way Baz is acting is any indication, he just seems annoyed, but it still doesn’t explain why he’s asking so many questions.

“How do you know that they don’t like you?” He asks.

“Because it’s you!” I don’t mean to blurt it out like that, but this conversation is going nowhere. Softer, I say, “I like you, Baz.”

 Baz

My entire body freezes, and whatever I was going to say next leaves my mind.

Simon has to be joking. Right?

He doesn’t like me. That’s not possible.

He hates me, and there is no way that they will ever change.

“But what about Andi?” I ask because I can’t think of anything else to say.

He sighs, and this look crosses his face that makes him look pained just for a moment before he just looks annoyed.

“That was just a kiss,” he says. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“How do I know that you don’t just want a kiss with me?”

“If I just wanted to go around kissing people, I can promise you that it would be a whole lot easier to do it with people other than you.”

He has a point. I would be the last person he would come to if all he wanted was some fun. I’m the person he comes to when he wants to get out all of his aggression, not to french with under the football stands.

He takes a step towards me, and it takes all I have not to take two steps back and put more space between us.

“It would be different with you,” he says softly.

“How?”

“Because I like you, and I want more than just a kiss.”

He sounds earnest, and I want to believe him, but I don’t know if I should.

What if this is just fun with him? Sure, he says he has feelings, but what if that changes? What if he changes his mind about me? I’m not sure that I could take it if he did.

Still, he looks at me with those ordinary blue eyes in a way that I’ve never seen him look at anyone before, and my heart does a flip in my chest.

I so want to believe him. I want to take a chance to see if this is real. The only thing holding me back is the fear of getting my heart broken, but I’m willing to risk that if it means being with Simon.

I don’t say anything, but I take a step forward to show him that I’m thinking about it, that I’m not about to walk away.

The corner of his mouth twitches, and then he steps towards me so that we’re standing toe to toe now.

He looks up at me with a question in his eyes. He doesn’t have to say it aloud because I know what he’s asking, and my whole body is screaming the answer at him.

With a nod, I murmur the word, “yes.”

Then, he kisses me.

It feels like he puts his whole heart into it, kissing me so deeply that it nearly knocks me off my feet.

I’ve never kissed anyone before, but I know that if I had, it wouldn’t have felt anything like this. It wouldn’t have felt this right because it wouldn’t have been with Simon.

Simon has always been it for me. Even though I spent years wishing that he wasn’t.

I hated myself for wanting him, but now, I’m just grateful that he somehow found a way to like me back.

Because he has to like me. It has to be true.

You don’t kiss someone like this without feeling something.

This kiss… It feels magickal.

I would think it really was magickal if I didn’t know that Simon was so shit at magic.

No, this a real kiss. A very perfect, passionate kiss that I will never forget.

Simon breaks away and presses his forehead to mine, and I find myself smiling at him in a way that I swore I would never do.

“Do you believe me?” He whispers, and I can see how anxious he is.

He thinks that I’ll say no, that I’ll push him away after we just shared that fiery kiss.

“Yes. I believe you, Simon.” Then, it’s my turn to kiss him.

I feel him smile against my lips, and I know that this is real.

Simon likes me, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.

No matter what comes after this, no matter what the Mage or the Families or the Humdrum throws at us, we will have this. We will have us.

[cultgambles]

The Boy With the Letter(2/3)

Chapter Two:  Their Stares Melt into Oblivion

Masterlist | Requests? open

WordCount: 1121

part one / part two / part 3

S I M O N 

I hear the lunch bell toll and stand up, grabbing Baz’s hand. It’s soft in mine, and his fingers are long. 

B A Z

Simon Snow’s hand is rough with callouses. I might just die here. 

S I M O N

“Ready for gov?” I say, tugging Baz along. 

I feel people’s stares on us, much more than usual now. Instead of us sitting as far away as possible, we sit together, right in the middle of the classroom. 

Penny in front of us coughs and I see her nod her head towards the door. Agatha is standing there, staring at us. I feel Baz rest his head on my shoulder, and I lean towards him too. 

Other than the occasional bump to the side Baz is on, nothing eventful happens. Miss Posslibef drones on, and I jot down next to nothing, except a few words and doodles on a separate page. 

The lecture ends soon enough, and I walk Baz to his next class. He’s being oddly quiet. 

“You alright, love?” I ask, rubbing my thumb on the back of his hand. Baz sputters for a second and then regains composer as if nothing ever happened. “What was that? Am I that bad at the whole romance thing?”

“No, it just caught me by surprise. I’ll see you at dinner then, Snow.”

“Alright,” I nod, and catch up to Penny I see a ways away. “Pen!”

“Hey Si! I can’t believe your plan is actually working. A lotta people came up to me to ask what was going on, actually.” Penny and I slip into an easy rhythm as we walk to physics. 

“Baz has been really quiet, and so I asked him what was up and he, like, choked on his own spit. It was weird.”

“Probably because you’ve never said anything like that to him,” she shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

“What are you gonna say when Agatha asks?”

“Dunno. That we’re in love now?”

Penny glances backward. “Well, there’s your chance now.” 

“Simon,” Agatha says, prettily as ever. “What’s with you and Baz?”

“Oh...well we’re together now.”

“How? You hate each other.”

“I thought so too, but I mistook love for hatred,” I shrug. Agatha looks at me like she can’t believe what she’s hearing and shakes her head.

“Don’t pull Baz in your mess like you did to me,” she says finally.

“Is that how you feel?”

“Yes. I don’t want him to get hurt because of your recklessness.”

“I’d never let anything happen to him!”

“You let something happen to me,” she sighs, and walks into the classroom.

By dinner time, at least everyone knows that Baz and I are together. He sits at our table, and I hand him a folded square of paper. “Good job,” I say, “Aggie looks like she’s seething.”

B A Z

Something in me is excited to hear Snow tell me that I’m doing a good job. But then a small, evil part of me reminds me that it’s all fake, and I frown at the thought. Snow nudges my side. 

“Everything all right?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” he shrugs in response, and goes back to devouring his meal. 

I flip Snow’s folded note between my fingers. Knowing him, he probably drew a smiley face on it or something of the nature. I shove it in my pocket and actually look around the dining hall for once. While no one is staring at us any more, I see occasional glances and hear hushed whispers. Wellbelove catches my eye, sitting the farthest away from anyone. She raises a slim brow and stares at me with a look I cannot read. I press my side into Snow’s and I feel him wrap an arm around my waist. 

And of course, I try not to melt. I debate whether telling him to piss off, but I’m too happy to care. 

“You guys are actually quite cute together,” Penny remarks, “I wonder how long this will last, hmm?”

I look at Snow for an answer, but he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he tells Bunce he’s gonna tuck in early and drags me up with him. 

“What’s the deal, Snow, I was going to finish my meal you know.”

“We both know you weren’t going to,” he chuckles. “I didn’t want Agatha to be eyeing up my man’s s’all.”

I nod, like I hear it every day, and our walk back to Mummer’s House is silent. He had let go of my hand a while ago, and I miss the warmth next to my coldness. 

At the room, he falls asleep early. The open window tonight brings a chill to the room. I turn on my side, and I can see Snow’s chest rise and fall with every breath he takes. My mind wanders back to Bunce’s earlier question, and I wonder the same. How long will we last? How long will I, as a gay vampire, last?

It’s a question for another day, I ultimately decide, and fall asleep. 

S I M O N

It’s hard to believe that our little facade has been going on for a few months now. 

“I think it’s ought to be time to end this wouldn’t you say, Snow?”

“What? Don’t we still have to go to your family's party?”

“I think Wellbelove is plenty jealous,” I say, not noting if it was for me or him. “Besides, the old families pretty much know now.”

“I think you’re just scared, Baz,” I scoff.

Baz shoves past me. To the catacombs maybe. 

I don’t see him again until dinnertime. This time, however, he’s with Agatha, and I feel a suspicious burn in the pit of my stomach. 

She’s twirling a strand of hair between her thumb and forefinger and looking up at him with those grey-blue doe like eyes. Baz nods, and gives her a smile. I stab a fork into my mashed potatoes and ignore him when he sits down next to me.

“Uh oh, a couple fight already?” Penny chortles.

“No, not really. We just can’t seem to agree on the time we should go to the party the old families are hosting,” he says.

“Yeah I want to be on time, and he wants to be 15 minutes late. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“It’s called being fashionably late, Snow.”

“We can all come together, if it makes you feel better,” Penny says. “Our family was invited for some reason, and my plus one is Agatha. Since I miss one of my best friends and all.”

My eyes widen a bit. “That sounds good. Do you agree, Baz?”

“It’s fine.”

[early-sxnsets]

Fic based on the song Came in Close by pale waves ??

(ok so like background is–7th year canon diverge that simon and agatha never dated because they just don’t idk why not–also it got long so more under the cut)

“I don’t like the idea of a stake out,” Snow huffs, buttoning his blazer as we settle alone in the side closet, seemingly trying to measure out the space with his eyes so he can strategically stay as far away from me as possible. Of course he doesn’t. He likes charge and attack.

“What’s your plan? Accuse a professor of being a shapeshifter casually?”

He shrugs, looking down as he casually steps back and away from me. “Maybe.”

I scoff over at him, pushing my hair back as I draw out my wand. He flinches, at first, then watches me raise it up to the air above us and utter a spell. “Première étoile que je vois ce soir.”

We both watch as a soft, glowing ball forms above us, illuminating the contained space and leaving us washed in warm yellow. When I’m looking back, though, he’s looking away, running a hand back through his hair before tugging it and plopping down onto the floor.

I sit against the door slowly, unbuttoning my blazer and drawing one knee while the other half folded and settled onto the dusty ground, knocking into a shelving unit full of textbooks.

“What if we made a mistake?”

My head snaps up, eyebrows narrowing at him. “What do you mean ‘mistake’?”

“You know.”

“What if we mistakenly witnessed a teacher wick into a cloud of smoke, then reappear back as a student that neither of us recognize nor have even seen before? And then, a day or two later, that same student tries to get all buddy buddy with you. But we’re mistaken? Is that what you’re asking?”

He shrugs again. “We could’ve seen it wrong?”

I wonder what’s rattling around inside his skull, because it’s definitely not a brain. “Ah yes, we both witnessed a single occurrence outside a teacher’s room, and it was a complete misunderstanding. We just, I don’t know, took the same hallucinogen coincidentally at the same time, resulting in the same hallucination.”

The broom beside him rattles as he shifts against it, staring off into his hands as we sit in a bitingly cold silence. I know this is what I get for being a dick to him. Awkward silences, long, uncomfortable stares, and cold glances. In the past years, he’d hit me, but since growing up a bit made us both a bit more stable, we just get angry or get silent.

I look at my palms, then my knuckles. Watch the way they curve and stress into a fist, then relax back into soft ridges and large flats. I know these knuckles are one of the only things on my body that’ve touched Snow’s skin, and that’s not a matter bound to change.

“So what are the plans?” he tries, still refusing to look at me.

I act similarly, not wanting to make an uneven draw of attention. “We wait. Someone’s got to come in here sometime, and it shouldn’t be forever–classes start again in an hour.”

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right. Missing lunch.”

Shit. Forgot to give him that.

I dig into my bookbag, pulling out a wrapped sandwich and an apple and toss them his way. “Stop complaining, it’s giving me a headache.”

He stares at them, then stares at me, and goes right to dig in. Staying across, I watch him, knowing I can’t help myself. Even when he’s a slob, he’s a magnet for my attention.

Half the sandwich in, and he stares up at me, giving me a smile that makes my heart jump. “Seven years into knowing me and you don’t know I prefer turkey to ham?” he jokes, a mouthful of food and still chewing. I should be gagging, but instead I’m taking a moment to drink in his gaze.

“I didn’t have to snag you anything at all.”

He shrugs again, shoving the food back into his mouth. In hopes to distract myself, I pull out a book, starting to read in the (almost) silence.

The light isn’t the best, so holding the book is a bit awkward, but I get the hang of it. I can’t get far into it, though, without Snow trying to question me on the topic of it.

“What’s that?”

“A book, Snow. Ever touched one?”

I can hear him huff, not looking up but knowing the exact scowl he’d be wearing.

“I meant, what’s it about?”

“The AIDS crisis,” I mumble. When I finally look up, he’s squinting across and nodding at me. “Snow, please tell me you know what the AIDs crisis was.”

“No, I know, mostly. I just…”

“You just what?”

He shrugs, rubbing his neck. “I… uh…. nevermind.”

“Spit it out, Snow.”

He frowns. “’S just, that’s a very specific topic.”

“Yes?”

“Not–not a lot of people are interested, that’s all.”

“Are you implying something, Snow?”

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “No! It’s just…. the topic is…” he looks away, shutting himself up.

I figure to leave it, too, knowing full well what he was getting at. Say it, Snow. Just say it.

Instead, we sit in silence. I don’t think much’ll happen for a bit–not until I hear the scuffle of standing feet, then feel him plop back down next to me. I frown instinctively, head snapping to the side as my book closes lightly on my finger holding the place. “What?”

He looks at the cover. “What if you read to pass time?”

“You think I want to read aloud to you?”

He shakes his head, then shrugs. “It’d pass time.”

I suppose he’s right, but a number of things could pass time. Like, for example, me eating the rat poison near the corner. It’s save plenty of time, me being dead.

Still, I find myself opening the book back up, finding my place, and clearing my throat before starting to read aloud. I go slowly, knowing he can’t follow whenever people talk too far, and follow the words along with my finger, in case he’s reading over my shoulder.

It’s a bit embarrassing, talking about an intimate subject. Not the virus and disease, but instead the blood. The talk of blood, the idea of blood between us is still a sore spot that’ll ache until I’m as far from him as possible.

We get to the end of a section and he stops, head almost drooping. “Can I rest?” he asks.

I immediately stiffen, but nod, eyes focusing intently on the page as his head settles onto my shoulder. It rests warmly, comfortingly, making my head spin as I try to focus on the page.

What if I just settled my hand on his? Or grazed his thigh? How hard would he hit me and run?

His side comes in close, then grazes my skin, resting gently as I try to read again. But, instead, this time I jumble a few words, reading too fast and tripping over everyday phrases. I try to slow myself, then get nervous and go too fast, and all the while, he’s warmly up against me, listening to the words and picking up his head on occasion.

I bite on my lip, taking a deep breath and he lifts his head. 

“What is it, Snow?” I bite, quickly covering up my tracks as he watches me with caution.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” I exhale again, shaking my head and snapping the book shut.

He looks over me, still in breathing distance as I’m shoving it into the bag. “No.”

“What?”

“Something happened. You never get all worked up over nothing. Was it me?”

“Why would it be you?” I speak too quickly, fully keeping my back to him as we sit.

“Because it started…” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Baz?”

“What?” 

“I’m sorry?”

“For what?”

“Making you uncomfortable.”

I wasn’t uncomfortable, Snow. I was nervous. Eager to impress. Wanting more. “Whatever.”

He shifts, still keeping our legs brushing. “Aren’t you gonna take it?”

“The apology that means nothing? No.”

“It meant something!”

“You were apologizing for something that didn’t even happen. It means nothing.”

“What… do you mean didn’t happen?”

Shit.  “Nothing, Snow. Shut it. We’re here to wait, not chat.”

He grabs my hand, quite forcefully, and it jolts me. “What is it?”

I look at him and yank my hand away. “You are. You’re what happened. Now shut it.”

We’re dead silent, only the small light floating above us.

“What… does that…”

“Nothing!” I snap, hands flying up. “I means nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. It means fuck off.”

He frowns deeper, reaching back for my hands like the stubborn bastard he is. “But…”

I stop, looking over at him nervously and exhaling. We stay silent, staring at one another as he holds onto my now shaking hands. He moves to sit facing me, lips twitching. “How do I fix it?”

“You can’t.”

“Well, what caused it?”

I’m silent, staring down at his lap.

For once, I think he has a bright moment and realises it. “Oh,” he whispers.

I close my eyes, waiting for an impact that doesn’t even come. Instead, I get a few quiet words.

“So what does this do?”

I feel his hand turn around mine, holding them properly as I swallow and pull one of his moves and shrug.

He scoots a little closer. “Okay. What about this?”

Without expecting it, I feel a soft bump of lips against my cheek. Looking over, I see him inches from me. I dumbly shrug again, mouth hanging open.

He smiles that unexpected, sweet smile again. “What if I kissed you?”

“I don’t know, what if you did?”

And then he kisses me.

I stiffen against him, then smooth back out all at once, curling my fingers around his as I try and kiss him back, then jolt when the door to the main room opens. We jolt apart, his cheeks rosy pink as we hear the voice of The Mage and our Professor out in the room, speaking loud enough to hear.

“So how’s the studying on the Pitch boy going?”

[snow-pitch-grimm]

Unconditional Love

Summary: Baz is put under a sleeping curse.

'Unconditional Love is The Price'

This is based on Once Upon a Time.

SIMON

It happened so fast. One minute we were talking, discussing Baz's family and the spells I could finally learn, and then the next Baz was on the ground with a nymph standing over him.

"Unconditional Love is the price," she said before disappearing back into the trees.

I tried to call his name, to shake him awake.

Nothing worked.

xxx

After the humdrum was defeated, the magic returned slowly, including my own. Except it was normal this time. I could cast the spells I had been trying for the last eight years of my life.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. My classmates had a much better grasp on magic then I did. But it was something and I was making good progress. Even Penny's mum seemed impressed with me, usually an impossible task.

Baz and I have had planned on having a quiet term. We were going to go on dates, snog in our room and spend time making up for the last several years of stupidity.

The plan did not include my boyfriend being in a magical coma.

"You didn't try anything magical?" asks Dr. Wellblove

"No," I say, "I didn't want to mess anything up,"

Penny and her mum choose that moment to walk through the door.

Penny quickly makes her way toward me, putting a supportive arm around me.

"Physically he's fine," says Dr. Wellblove, "This is all magical. I'll put in a line to give him proper nutrition but the spell needs to break for him to wake up,"

"I called his family," says Headmistress Bunce, "Malcolm and Fiona will be here soon,"

Penny squeezes my hand and gives me a reassuring look.

It doesn't help.

Dr. Wellblove nods.

"There isn't much I can do here. The nurse will be able to take care of the few physical needs he will have. I think I should probably take my leave. I'll come back to check on him tomorrow or the day after,"

"I'll walk you out, Welby," says Headmistress Bunce

He nods and turns toward me, "Take care, Simon,"

I mumble a quick thanks without looking at him.

As soon as they leave I take a seat next to Baz and take his hand in mine. Penny mutters a few words and waves her hand, making a small table with a stack of books to appear in front of her.

She smiles at my questioning look.

"I figured we could do our research in here," she says, "Since you probably want to stay with Baz,"

Times like these make me extra glad for a friend like Penny. I don't know what I'd do without her.

"You mentioned that the nymph said something about unconditional love, right?"

"Yeah, Unconditional Love is the Price," I tell her

"Okay," she says, "We focus on sleeping spells that involve the aspect of love. And let's try to start with Non-Mage ones. I don't think nymphs like to use the same magic as us,"

I resultantly let go of Baz's and come to sit beside Penny. It's a tedious process. There's not a lot to go on. It's not as if someone sat down with a nymph and wrote down their magical process. All we have to go on are previous incidences. Each one is different with its own scenario and it's really hard to connect the dots. Or even find them.

I'm two books in when the door opens and the headmistress comes in with Fiona and Malcolm.

Fiona is instantly at me, rapidly asking questions that I can't keep up with. I'm just about to snap at her when Malcolm puts an arm on her back, effectively shutting her up.

He murmurs something and Fiona takes a deep breath. As they talk, I take a moment to look at them. They both look ruffled like they dropped everything to come here, which they most likely did. Malcolm's wearing one of his 'business' suits, probably left a meeting. Fiona obviously left a date or an early night out. She looks angry with a touch of panicked. Malcolm, on the other hand, looks calm and unbothered as if his son isn't lying in a coma.

It makes anger twist in my gut.

How can he so...so unfeeling about this?

"Simon," whispers Penny, "Stop it. Stop the face,"

"But-"

"Simon!" she hisses

"Okay," I mutter

Once they're done, Fiona goes to sit by Baz while Malcolm comes toward us.

"Tell me," he says, "From the beginning,"

I comply and start from the beginning. From out topics of conversation to the nymph's words and Dr. Wellblove's assessment. Penny's mum chimes in here and there.

In the end, Malcolm nods, "You're doing good with the research but let's make it more focused,"

With his and headmistress Bunce's help, we narrow the search down more to scenarios of nymphs 'helping' Mages or make trades. I'm not sure why those things are important but Penny's making 'this makes sense face' to so I go along with it. Some time in, Fiona joins us too. Headmistress Bunce has to leave to attend to her other duties.

We keep looking for hours.

Eventually, Penny pulls up one solution.

"True Love's Kiss," scoffs Fiona, "What is this? A fairy tale?"

"The way it goes, the Mage needed to be awoken by the person who loved him best with their most common confession. And well, kissing someone is a pretty big confession so it worked,"

Everyone turns to looks at me.

"You-you really think- I mean we've only been together for-"

"It doesn't hurt to try, Snow," says Fiona and this time her eyes are a little more gentle.

I take a deep breath.

"Okay,"

Slowly I walk toward Baz's bed. I take his hand and bend down to gently place a kiss on his lips.

It didn't work. So I tried again. This time I let my lips linger there a little longer.

Nothing. My heart sinks.

"Simon," I hear Penny call my name softly

I turned back toward the others in the room. Penny is looking tired and sorry. Fiona looks disappointed. Malcolm looks disappointed too and...a little relieved.

I can't take it anymore.

So I run out before I say something I'll regret later.

I don't know where I'm going. As long as it's far away from the heart-wrenching sight of my sleeping boyfriend.

xxx

Penny finds me later, sitting close to Ebb's old place.

"Hey," she says, coming to sit by me

"Hey," I answer

She takes my hand and squeezes it gently, silent in her support. I rest my head on her shoulder and let my tears fall. Once I've cried as much as I could, she helps me up and takes me to my room. In there I have another crying fit and I collapse on Baz's bed, sobbing my heart out. She just sits beside me and rubs my back.

Eventually, the tears stop and I let sleep overtake me.

xxx

Refreshed from my nap and feeling a lot more centred, I headed for Baz's room. Penny was still asleep. I figured I should leave her there.

When I got close to the room, I hear people taking in hushed voices.

It sounded like Malcolm and Fiona

Despite my better judgement, I quietly moved until I'm standing in right outside the door.

"It's not fair," I hear Malcolm say with a little hitch in his voice, "Why do these things always happen to him. He doesn't deserve this,"

"I know Malcolm,"

"He's a good boy. Does his best. Smart. Intelligent. Wonderful. It's not fair,"

I hear Fiona sigh, "I know Mal,"

There's a sound that suspiciously sounds like a sob and my stomach churns with guilt.

I shouldn't have thought Malcolm was indifferent to Baz. I definitely shouldn't be standing out here.

I don't want to just walk away either so I straighten my back and lightly knock on the door frame.

Fiona looks up at me while Malcolm discreetly rubs under his eyes, probably trying to wipe away any tears.

"Oh, hi," I say, "I can come back later if-"

Fiona shakes her head, "No Simon, it's okay. Malcolm and I should be getting something to eat anyway. We skipped dinner,"

I nod and she genty tugs her brother-in-law out of there. Malcolm gives me a small nod as he leaves.

His eyes are so empty, they make me involuntarily shudder.

Once they're gone, I sit down and take Baz's hand in mine.

If I didn't know better, I would think he was just sleeping. His expression is peaceful and his breathing is steady. It reminds me of the first time we had fallen asleep in the same bed. How I had fallen asleep the sound of his breathing.

"Hey, Baz," I say, "It's me. Simon. But you probably know that and if you were here you would call me an idiot for rambling,"

I take a deep breathe, "I love you. I do. But apparently it's not enough to wake you up and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,"

I ramble on for a little longer, glad that there's no one else in the room to hear me. Once I run out of words, I just sit there, gently stroking his hand and watching his beautiful face.

A knock startles me and I turn to see Malcolm standing at the entrance.

"Do you mind if I come in?" he asks

"Um-yeah-sure, come in,"

He walks toward us and sits on Baz's other side, taking his hand.

"I can leave if-" I start

He shakes his head, "Don't worry. It's fine,"

"Can I ask you something," I say eventually

"Go ahead,"

"When I kissed Baz and he didn't wake up, I don't know- I might be imagining it, but you looked a little, I guess, relieved? Why?"

Malcolm nods, "Look, if that had woken him up, I would have been happy. Ecstatic. But I also would have been concerned,"

He takes pause and then continues.

"When we were in our seventh year, Natasha and I did a project on that spell. Those two Mage's that first used True Love's kiss, they had also used a few very dangerous spells on themselves previously. They had done a mind-melding spell, gave each other the power to summon the other whenever they wanted. There were also so many others. By the end, they were basically one person. That's not true love or love of any kind, really. That's not even healthy and as you can imagine that's not what I want for my son,"

"What do you want for him?"

"Someone that makes him happy," he says with a smile, "Someone that puts him first, someone who will stand by him through thick and thin,"

He smiles at me.

"You get the picture,"

"Yeah," I say nodding. I wonder what he thinks of me being with his son.

"You know," he says, "I trust my son's judgement. I'm sure you and he will have many years together,"

I nod, trying to keep down the wave of emotion that's bubbling up inside of me. This is not the direction I had expected this conversation to go.

xxx

In the morning, I walk back to the infirmary from my room. I had wanted to stay with Baz but the adults had put their metaphorical foot down. I had made them promise to get me if anything happened.

I had only gotten a few hours of sleep but still felt refreshed. The breakfast of scones had helped too.

Now I was ready to dive in another stack of books to find a spell to wake Baz up.

Everyone is already in the room, including Dr. Wellblove and Headmistress Bunce. Malcolm and Fiona are sitting beside Baz, neither of them looks like they got wink of sleep last night.

Penny waves me over to the table and I slide into the chair beside her.

"He's fine," says Dr. Wellblove, "Just as he was yesterday. His physical health isn't being impacted by this curse,"

"He's just asleep," says Fiona

"I guess we just have to keep looking," says the headmistress

"We already tried true love's kiss though,"

"But apparently it wasn't true enough," I mutter

Penny squeezes my hand, "Don't feel bad, Simon. The nymph said unconditional love, right? You love Baz, but it has conditions,"

I'm about to protest when she shakes her head.

"You wouldn't love him if was an axe murderer or if he hurt me or someone else you cared about,"

I take a moment to think about it and realize she's right. I love Baz for his core values and personality and while some differences wouldn't change a thing, if he started murdering people tomorrow, would I love him? Probably not.

"But then that's all love. What do we do with that? It just sounds hopeless," I say

The room goes silent at that. No one says anything or looks at each other.

Headmistress Bunce is the one to break the silence.

"Okay, those of us who are rested will continue the research and those of us who are tires will get some sleep. I'm looking at you, Malcolm,"

"I'm not-"

"Don't make me call you wife, Grimm,"

Malcolm looks her exasperated, she just raises her eyebrows at him.

He sighs, "Fine,"

To my surprise, he doesn't get up instantly but leans down to press a kiss to Baz's forehead.

The reaction is instant.

A wave of magic moves through the room.

Baz's eyes open up.

For a moment everyone freezes but then Fiona and Malcolm are pulling a confused looking Baz into their arms.

"Wha- Father, Fiona, what's going on,"

Neither one of them answer juts hug him tighter.

"Well, they do say a parent's love is unconditional," murmurs Dr. Wellblove

"Can't believe I didn't think of it," says Penny

"I'm going to go let Niall and Devin, know," says the headmistress

On the bed, Fiona moves away and gestures for me to come over.

As I get closer, Malcolm removes one arm to give me room.

"I didn't think you would wake up," I say, burying my head in his shoulder.

"I am still so confused," says Baz

Everyone chuckles.

"Later, boyo," says Fiona, "We're just glad you're back,"

Baz obviously figures the easier way is to go along with. He just nods and sinks into our hug again.

BAZ

I'm in the infirmary and my father and Simon are hugging me at the same time. Fiona's also there looking a few moments away from tears herself.

I'm confused. I have two crying people on my shoulders and I have no idea why. I don't even know how I got here.

But the hugs are nice though.

[fleursowl]

Now and Forever

An unprompted fic that came to me in the middle of the night. I don’t remember writing it, which is a little creepy, but ah well.

Warnings: infidelity (kinda??), a LOT of angst, barely barely there but if you squint you can see where it would be suggested smut

Simon

I didn’t want to do it. Hell, I wish I hadn’t done it. But I did.

Baz had too much to deal with, too many problems and fights to face to deal with me. After all, he’d fallen in love with Simon Snow, the Chosen One, the future Mage, the magician.

And now I am none of those things- except Simon Snow. I still don’t feel like him very much, either.

I don’t feel like him especially when I lie in the spare bed of Dev’s flat, ignoring the worried messages and missed calls from him.

You’d have thought he’d given up by now.

It’s been a two weeks, after all.

Two weeks since I walked out.

Baz

The only way I know he isn’t dead is through Penny.

She’s sitting opposite me, her eyes sad, but not the my-best-friend-is-missing-and-could-be-dead type of sad, the yes-Baz-I-know-he’s-breaking-your-heart type of sad. She refuses to tell me where he is, though.

“Come on, Baz.” she attempts, poking my foot with hers. “You haven’t even left the flat for two weeks. Dev and Niall will be there, and Micah, and everyone else-“

“Fine.” I interrupt, just to get her to shut up. Crowley, I can’t stand living with myself. “I’ll come.”

Simon

I’m not sure why I let Dev persuade me into coming. After all, I’m hiding, arent I? Hiding from Baz- hiding from my responsibilities- hiding from my life. But I suppose it’ll be a good distraction from all of those things.

When we get there it’s just me, Dev and Niall- Trixie and her girlfriend (I forget the name) haven’t arrived yet. There’s a boy across the bar looking at me unsubtly underneath his eyelashes, and it makes me feel slightly ill. I stand up, and the blood rushes to my head.

“I’m just going for a smoke.” I announce, and make accidental eye contact with the boy once more before walking into the alley and lighting a cigarette.

“Hi.” the boy says, appearing next to me and leaning against the wall.

“Hi?” I say more uncertainly, and before I know what’s happening, I’m being pushed against a wall and being snogged within an inch of my life.

It’s weird. I’ve only ever kissed two people in my life, and this boy isn’t like either of them. Agatha was soft and tentative and never really there, always chaste- and Baz was, well, Baz was everything.

This boy is neither of those things. But he’s a distraction.

A small, choked noise is made to the side of us, and we jump apart. Well. I jump. The boy’s hand is still on my hip.

I look to the side, and, standing there, is Baz and Penny. Penny looks extremely uncomfortable and also rather scared, but behind that is a pity I can’t bloody stand to see.

Baz looks ruined.

Baz

Simon Snow is standing in front of me. Simon Snow, who I haven’t seen in two weeks. Simon Snow, my boyfriend. Or so I thought.

I’ve been stabbed before. I’ve been shot before. I’ve been shoved inside a coffin with no food water air or blood, and it was nothing like this.

Nothing compares to this pain.

He’s standing there, panting, with his hair messy just like I make it, and his cheeks red just like I make them, and his lips swollen just like I turn them. Except, this time it wasn’t me.

I’d always had my suspicions that I wasn’t alive, but now there’s no doubt. There’s no way in hell or on earth that you can feel like this, feel this pain, have this screaming mantra in the back of your head, have this hand clutched around your heart, without being alive.

Oh, how I wish I was dead.

Simon

His grey eyes have turned almost black, and he’s shaking.

“So,” he whispers, clenching his fists, “This is where you’ve been.”

“Baz, no, it’s not-“ He’s walking away. “Baz- wait!” I call desperately after him.

“Let him go, Simon.” Penny says sadly. “There’s nothing you can say right now.”

But I’m not going to do that.

I’ve known for a long time now, and seeing the hurt in his eyes, the raw betrayal, the pure, truthful pain, I’m in pieces. This is how it feels, I think, this is how it feels to be in love.

I’ve liquidised and I’m spilling down, down, down into the drains like the scum I am.

How could I do this?

I set off at a run towards our flat- his flat- yet I still don’t meet him on the way there. Curse him and his long, fit legs.

To my surprise, there’s still a key in my pocket.

Well. It’s now or never.

Baz

As soon as I reach our flat- my flat- I collapse onto the nearest chair by the table, still shaking.

The tears take a while to come, shock having numbed my brain and nerves. But oh, when they come, they come. I’m crying him a river, yet he’s basking in the ocean, and I’m drowning, I’m drowning, I’m drowning-

At some point I must have thrown a vase across the room- the vase he produced when he pulled a bunch of roses out from behind his back on the third week, mumbled stutters of I know you’re not a girl but immediately covered by an intense kiss that lead to an intense tangle of sheets and gasps and first times.

There’s a noise at the door, but I don’t register it. I’m slumped over the table, my hands in my hair, and for one of the first times in my life, I don’t care what I look like. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. All I can do is sit here and cry, sit here and hurt hurt hurt.

Simon

I’ve never seen Baz cry before. Sure, he got a little teary at the end of Titanic- even though he vehemently disputed this- and sometimes he cries a little in his sleep, in the middle of what seems to be a bad nightmare, but by the time I’ve shaken him awake and pressed soft kisses to his forehead, he’s fast asleep again, cheeks already dry.

This is nothing like that.

This is an avalanche.

He’s sitting at the table, shaking. Still shaking. There’s a- Crowley, is that a pool of tears on the table? I turn, and see a smashed vase on the other side of the room.

Fuck, this is it.

“Baz.” I say quietly, moving towards him. He startles, looking up at me, and tears are still streaming down his cheeks- pooling in his eyes and then spilling over, accompanied by heart-wrenching shudders. “Baz, love, I-“ I reach towards him, and he flinches away so hard he falls off his chair.

“You don’t get to call me that right now.” he says, and where there would be venom, where I know he intends for there to be venom, there is just a chasm of sadness. I pull up a chair, and sit.

He stands up, and walks out of the room.

Oh, Crowley.

Penny

Simon Snow is an idiot, and you heard it here first.

Well, maybe that’s a little harsh. He isn’t an idiot. He just doesn’t think. I know he’s in love with Baz, but I also knew that Baz has been in love with him since second year. I just decided not to tell Simon.

But Crowley, you’d think Simon would’ve worked it out. A fool could’ve seen.

The same goes for Baz- the amount of times he’s quietly confessed to me that he doesn’t think Simon loves him is, well, shocking. A fool could see the love Simon has for that boy. He just doesn’t always know how to show it.

And now it’s all going to blow up. I’m not going to be a part of it this time. I’ve had enough of fixing them. They need to work this out themselves, for once.

Simon

Baz is sitting by the window with his knees pulled into his chest and his chin rested atop them. It makes him look younger, and my heart tugs. I sit down on the floor next to him. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence.

“I’ve never been the best with words.” I start, and a flicker of something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. “But I want to try.”

I get up, and sit cross legged opposite him on the window seat, taking his hand.

He doesn’t pull away. It’s a start.

“Having my magick taken away from me- giving my magick away- is like- it’s like a part of me is missing.” I begin, and his eyes briefly meet mine before he looks away. He looks pitiful, even now. “And I’ve tried to fill that missing part of me with other things. Things like you, and Penny, and Dev and Niall, and- I don’t know, just, having someone. But I need to be someone.”

“You are someone.” Baz whispers. “You’re everything. You’re everything to me and Penny.”

We stare at each other for a few, intense seconds, and my breath is taken away.

“I just- for fuck’s sake Baz, I have so many emotions.” I groan, banging my head against the window. It rattles. “And, the way I feel about you, it- it scares me sometimes.”

“I scare you?” Baz whispers, looking up. If I thought he looked hurt before, in the alley, this is a million times worse. This time it looks like he hates himself.

“No! Baz- Baz, love, that’s not what I meant.” I whisper, stroking his hand with my thumb. “I meant- the way I feel about you- how intense and powerful and consuming it is- that scares me. And, well, I’m not the Chosen One anymore, am I.” I laughed humourlessly. “That’s who you fell in love with. My magick. So I had to leave- before it got worse. Before you were tied down with a useless, uninteresting sod like me.”

“Simon Snow.” Baz whispers, “If tonight has proved anything, it’s that you are far from uninteresting.” He leans forward, taking my other hand. “I didn’t fall in love with the Chosen One. Yes, that’s what first attracted me to you, but that’s not what I fell in love with.” He takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes. “I fell in love with the boy who jumped in a lake in the middle of winter to save a baby bird. The boy who eats crisps at his desk, and can’t concentrate unless he’s chewing on something. Who always wakes up smiling, no matter what nightmare he’s had the night before. Who never gives up on his friends, ever, and always sees the good in people. Who has faults, and flaws, like every other fucking human being, but is inherently a good person. And that’s you,” he jabs me in the stomach, “not your magick.”

“You love me?” I whisper, caught massively off guard.

“Crowley, Snow, is that all you took from that? Yes, I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time now, and I don’t intend to stop anytime soon.” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. It contrasts so greatly with his red-rimmed eyes that I burst out laughing- or crying, I’m not sure which I’m doing.

“Fuck, Baz, I love you, I love you, I’m so in love with you” I laugh-sob, collapsing into his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” Baz nuzzles into me, his body relaxing.

Baz

He’s home, and he’s in my arms, and that’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter that he smells like another boy and cheap alcohol, he’s here. He’s crying into my chest, and I’m crying into his shoulder. But we’re both laughing.

“Wanna go shower?” I offer tentatively. Simon pulls off me, and nods, wiping his eyes. We stand up, and he takes a deep sigh. “Yeah, that would be good. I feel, I dunno, unclean.”

I pinch my nose and smirk at him. “Yeah, and you smell it too.” He grins, and punches me on the shoulder.

Simon

I could live as long as eighty, and I will never get used to the sight of Baz naked. He gets in the shower before me, of course, bloody bathroom hog that he is, and I nearly slip over when I see him.

Crowley, he’s fit.

I move towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his shoulder.

“Hello there, Snow.” he says without turning around, and I hum softly into his shoulder.

“Any reason you’re being so touchy?”

I let myself relax into him, the full weight of everything that happened sinking in.

“I’m sorry.” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I didn’t like it.” Another kiss. “‘Was strange.” Another kiss. “Not like you.” Another kiss. “Nowhere near as good as you.” Another kiss. “Didn’t even want it.” Another kiss. “I’ve missed you.” A longer, heavier kiss.

By the time I’m finished Baz is flushed- he must’ve drunk before he went out with Penny- and is panting slightly. He spins around, his hands on my waist, and fixes me with a look that makes me shiver all over.

“Let’s get his smell off you, shall we?” he murmurs, pressing me against the wall. I sigh in relief, and tilt my head back.

This is home. This is where I want to be. In Baz’s arms.

Now, and forever.