Summary: Prince Simon of Watford hates being a prince. He would rather be with his friends than try to learn tax policy. While adventuring in the scary woods with Penelope, Simon finds a strange boy who somehow transforms from a swan into a human when he sits on a lake. Simon immediately becomes fascinated with the boy and his mysterious existence. And as he learns more, Simon's feelings start to deepen. But when the stakes get higher, can those feelings triumph over their struggles?
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AN: Hello everyone, and welcome to my big bang! It's super long, I spent hours trying to fix stuff that I'm still not 100% on, and I'm very happy I actually did it. And I really do like it, I'm just way too critical of myself. I wrote this because A) I love fantasy AUs, B) I love the Swan Lake ballet, and C) I love the webcomic based on Swan Lake “The Prince and The Swan” by April Pierce which I recommend you all read it's awesome. So this an AU based off both the ballet and the comic. I'm posting the first two chapters today cause I feel like them together is a good start to the story. I'll be posting every monday and every other Thursday.
Shoutout to my artist @bookerella who made amazing art for this fic. I’ll be linking her piece for this chapter at the end. And another shoutout as always to @carryonmylovelies because she has been my rock for the past five months through writing this fic and along with a lot of other struggles. She's the best and I love her with all my heart. And after all that, please enjoy the first two chapters of The Black Swan. Hope y'all like it :)
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Burning, everything was burning
The whole world was engulfed in flames and reeked of smoke. Simon didn’t know where he was. Only that this body wasn’t his. The arms were small, pudgy, that of a young boy. But he felt the muscles move and the skin heat up with the flames. They licked at him but didn’t touch, bending away before contact.
“Darling, where are you?!” a woman’s voice yelled, followed by an ear piercing scream.
Simon started running immediately. He didn’t know why, just that he had to go. He ran past the creaking wood, the scorched stone, looking for where the voice was coming from. Consciously, he didn’t know who it was, but he knew he had to get to her. A burning beam nearly crushed his head, but he kept going. He needed to get to her.
“Mum!” His voice shouted. It wasn’t his though, yet it came from his mouth. Rather, it was a child’s voice, desperate and afraid. Simon could feel tears streaming down the boy’s face, created from smoke and fear.
“Where is she?” Simon asked himself from the boy’s mouth.
Another scream rang out. Simon started running again. He couldn’t see. There was too much debris and smoke and fire to find anything. But he reached her room eventually, using all his short might to force the doors open. The boy’s mum was standing right in the centre of a ring of fire. Her grey gown was in charred shreds, hair obscuring most of her soot covered face. A thick arm was wound around her neck. She was struggling to breath, from smoke and the person choking her.
“Mum!” he shouted with voice that wasn’t his again. “Stop hurting her!”
“Run,” she rasped out. The person with the thick arm looked at him. His eyes were piercing blue, filled with a killer’s rage. The boy backed up slowly. “Run!”
And so he ran. He was running as far as his little legs could carry him, ducking and weaving through the burning debris. She told him to run. So he would, he would do whatever she said. Run, run, run-
“Not so fast, brat.” The man grabbed his small fancy collar so hard he choked. His voice was smooth, confident, completely sure of his own power. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ve got other plans for you.
He tried to scream, but the man’s grip was too tight for speech. The burning world slowly turned black.
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“Simon. Simon. Simon!”
Simon jolted awake so hard his head smacked against his wooden chair. He whined as he rubbed the sore spot. King David stood over him from the other side of the desk. He had his hands on his hips, glaring at his adopted son with extreme disapprovement.
“Yes?” Simon grumbled.
“Were you sleeping when you were supposed to be studying battle techniques?” David asked in a way that meant he knew the answer.
“N-No,” the prince lied with a shaky voice. David kept glaring, and Simon sighed. “I’m just tired from studying, Father, sorry.”
David shook his head, crown shifting on his brown curls. “I’m disappointed, Simon. You’ve been the crown prince full time for a year now, you should know how to cope. I brought you here to be my heir. The least you can do is try.”
Simon picked at his nails, a nervous habit he still hadn’t broken over the years. Another thing David was disappointed in. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Words are meaningless, Simon. Do better. Now come along, we have a council meeting.”
Simon had to suppress a groan. He hated council meetings. They were always so boring. They made him really want to find the executioner so he could be put out of his misery.
He did up his embroidered tunic properly and put the gold circlet back on his head anyway. He wanted all these damn things off so bad. The circlet always got too hot and made his forehead sweat. And the formal attire was so damn itchy. Simon was never comfortable when he dressed like a prince. Even years later, he still wondered if David made a mistake, picking him to be his heir.
David pushed open the council room doors with flourish, green cloak flapping behind him. He always did it so much with flourish, always making a grand scene when he greeted the council. Penny would roll her eyes.
“All rise,” Sir Premal announced, “for his majesty, King David Owens of Watford. And for his royal highness, Crown Prince Simon Owens of Watford.”
The lords stood, hands clasped in front of them respectfully. They all look bored, as usual. Nobility weren’t allowed to enjoy themselves. Simon was pretty sure it was written in the Constitution of Watford Kingdom. Though some of their eyes flicked to Simon and narrowed. He could feel the contempt and snobbery radiating off them. He knew what some of them thought of him deep down; just a lowly orphan painted up to impersonate a prince. Simon couldn’t disagree. A lot of the time, he felt like that too.
David stood at the head with Simon right beside him on a smaller chair. Everyone’s chairs had to be smaller than David’s.
“Be seated,” the king said. All the hardwood scraped on the stone simultaneously. Simon desperately wanted to slump further, but he knew David would yell at him later. It wasn’t worth the ear ache.
The King opened his large leather bound ledger. He kept meticulous finance records. Many would say he was obsessive. And many would be correct. “Now, the tax increases have been fully implemented. Have you all of you have been collecting well?”
His tone made it incredibly clear that this was a question with specific answers. David’s questions always came with specific answers. The lords shifted minutely, the closest they’d ever come to protest, and replied with a monotone “yes” as they handed their bags of collected gold pieces. Not Lord Grimm though. He merely pushed down his burlap sack while staring straight ahead. He rarely spoke during these meetings. Simon assumed it was because David took his late wife’s throne, the same throne that was originally meant to be passed down to his late son but was now going to Simon. Simon couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t like being constantly reminded of his family’s demise either. Maybe not talking made it easier.
“Good,” David said as he checked off every province. “Any disturbances from the people?”
“No,” the speaking lords replied.
“Wonderful.” David snapped his ledger closed. “Now, there’s the matter of the old Hampshire property. It’s fallen into complete disrepair over the past few years, what with Lady Fiona moving and no one else living there. I suggest we demolish it for building materials. The new castle extension needs stone. Any protests?”
No one spoke up, because David’s cold expression told them not to. Not even Lord Grimm said anything, which Simon found surprising. Hampshire was the oldest Pitch family property. They owned it before becoming the royal family. But he said nothing. Just stared ahead with a bored expression. Simon still instinctively shied away though. Lord Malcolm Grimm always looked like a white haired pit viper, calm most of the time but definitely could kill you in an instant. But today was a good day, because Malcolm simply looked at King David, and nodded.
David nodded back. “Good. Lord Grimm, please alert Lady Pitch of this. Are there any other matters we need to discuss?” All the lords stayed silent in response. ”Very well. You’re all dimissised. Farewell, your lordships.”
“Farewell, your majesty,” the speaking lords said.
What was the point of this? Simon thought. Less than five minutes so the King could take money from the rich people and announce he was destroying a historic building. Penelope said most of these meetings were just so David could flex his power. Simon liked to believe there was something more, but he had to admit she had a point. She was usually right.
As he and Simon were exiting, Malcolm put a hand on David’s shoulder. Simon stiffened. It wasn’t appropriate to touch a king. He remembered the day David first brought him to the castle. His new father had slapped him away when he tugged on his royal sleeve. “You ask permission to touch a king, Simon. Remember that,” he’d said. Simon had always kept to that rule, along with everyone else. Yet David didn’t look upset at Lord Grimm’s discretion. His eyes justs slid over to the side.
“Excuse my boldness,” Lord Grimm said smoothly, “but I have something to discuss with you, your majesty.” His cold brown eyes shifted to Simon. Simon tried not to gulp. “In private.”
Simon looked to his father. David nodded. “Go, Simon. I give you leave for the day.”
The prince grinned ear to ear. “Really?”
“Did I not just say so? Return by supper.”
“Yes, yes, Father, I will.” Simon was already going towards the exit as he spoke.
“Close the door on your way out.” David didn’t say please, because, “kings are above politeness, Simon.”
Simon nodded. “Yes, Father.”
As he was closing the door, Simon heard snippets of their extremely hushed conversation. Malcolm looked serious, David looked unamused.
“Insult...too long...,” Malcolm muttered.
“Very well...remember...know your place,” David replied.
Simon was too excited to leave to care for stupid royal dealings. He shut the door and immediately raced down the carpeted hallway. Past the dirty high ceilings and confining stone walls. Even though this castle was only a little over a decade years old, it had the fashions of somewhere old. David wanted it to look ancient, to make it look like his royal line was just as old as the Pitches were. Penny told Simon it was about ego or power or something. Simon didn’t care. He just wanted to leave it right now.
The second he reached his room, Simon stripped off his tunic, making his circlet hit the stone with a tink. He hopped around trying to get his pants off and nearly fell face first on the floor. That would be rich, Simon thought, a crown prince with a broken nose caused by his own inability to get out of his trousers. What a great future king I am, huh David?
Simon put on his loose white shirt and filthy riding pants. He wrapped an old scarf around his head, attempting to hide his distinctive bronze curls under the grey fabric. It wouldn’t stop everyone from noticing him of course, but it would stop enough. Enough that he could get to one particular place.
As the reluctant crown prince and graduated student of The Mage School, which sat just to the north of the castle, Simon had enough practice getting from royal property to the town quickly. He used the hidden passageways, weaving through the corridors with ease, greeting every servant by name as he passed by. He ended up in the kitchen, where Cook Pritchard was already preparing for supper.
“Hello, Mrs. Pritchard,” he said, hanging over her counter. “How’s the kitchen?”
“Oh, same old, same old,” she replied. “How’s castle business?”
“Boring, of course. Say, is that a spare scone?”
The cook gave Simon an amused look. “I believe so.”
Simon grinned brightly. Ebb told him he had a smile that could persuade armies to surrender. She was always so nice. “May I please have it?”
Mrs. Pritchard sighed overdramatically as she handed the pastry over. “Only because you asked so nicely, your highness.”
“I told you, call me Simon, please. Your highness is too long.”
“I would, but his majesty insists on formal titles. He’s quite...demanding.”
“Don’t I know it,” Simon grumbled, taking an aggressive bite of the scone. “Thank you, Mrs. Pritchard. Need anything from town?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Those carrots you found last week were lovely, thank you.”
“No problem! Thanks for the scone!”
Cook Pritchard waved as Simon dashed off. “You’re welcome, your highness, have fun!”
He absolutely would. He always had fun on days like this. Simon ran out the wooden doors, over the rawbridge, and across the great lawn. Ebb was standing there with her goat herd, magically trying to rein them in. She waved with her entire arm.
“Good morrow, Simon!” she yelled. Ebb didn’t care for formalities at all.
Simon waved back. “Good morrow, Ebb! Need anything from town?”
“Oh no, I’m alright. Just say hello to Penelope for me!”
“Will do!”
Simon ran over the grass and down the dirt road. The thick brush of the Wavering Wood separated the castle from Watford Town. Most used magic to reveal a path. But Simon didn’t trust his magic, so he knew the forest like the back of his hand instead. He made it through with ease, jumping over fallen branches and across the mossy ground, emerging into the sunlight on the other side. He immediately took a deep breath, exhaling with a long sigh. Outside the stone walls and merwolf moat, he could finally breathe.
Watford Town was the biggest collection of people in the Watford Kingdom. (Both were called Watford, which made geography lessons far too confusing in Simon’s opinion.) Large, tall houses lined busy dirt streets. Stalls were filled with people shouting out prices of their wares. Everyone was bustling and talking and laughing. Soldiers stood on street corners, watching everyone move. Simon strolled past all of them with hands in his pockets. A few of them went wide eyed seeing him, but most people didn’t even notice he was there. He sighed. This town was his real home. And he missed it all the time.
Simon walked through the downtown to the slight outskirts. He knocked on a familiar red door. A few footstep sounds later, it swung open, and Simon was looking Penelope Bunce right in the eye.
“Hey Pen,” he chirped. “Ebb says hi.”
Penny smirked. “Did you have to sword fight Davy to get him let you out during the day?”
Simon grinned even more. “Nope. He just let me go.”
“Wow. Is our good ol’ King going soft in his old age?”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” he scoffed. “Can I come in? Or has your Mum finally officially banned me?”
Penny barked a laugh and steps to the side. “Like she could stop me. Get in here, you royal bastard.”
Simon whipped off his scarf off and stepped into the Bunce house. It was big, but not as big as the castle, and it felt much smaller with two adults and four children all together. Simon didn’t mind. He preferred the cozy family feeling here to his large, empty supposed palace.
“How’s the castle been?” Penny asked. Simon groaned and flopped on one of the chairs. “That good, huh?”
Simon grunted. “Bloody nightmare. I thought David was demanding while we were in school, but now he’s got me reading even more books. I think I’m going to slice my throat on a policy manual page one of these days.”
“Oh the horror of reading. Want tea?”
“Yes please. And I’m fine with reading interesting books. But these ones have too many complicated words and not enough pictures.”
Penny sighed heavily as she boiled the kettle with her wand. “I sometimes wonder why we’re friends.”
Simon twisted his head around towards the kitchen with his sunshine smile. “Because I’m nice and charming and you love me.”
“True, untrue, and yes, I do, despite my better judgement.” Penny turned to him. She was smiling a bit, but her eyes were sad. “It’s sort of weird, y’know, not seeing you everyday at school. It’s been almost a year, and it’s still weird.”
Simon sighed. He got up from the chair and strolled over to her. He draped himself over Penny like an affectionate ragdoll, chin on her head and arms around her neck. “I miss you too, Pen.”
Penelope sighed and sunk into his arms for a second. But then struggled out of his grip as the kettle whistled. “Yeah, yeah, I miss you, you big softy. Now get off me and let me make the tea.”
“Of course, will do.” He planted a big wet kiss on her cheek before flopping back to the chair. Penny soon brought over two cups with steaming tea. She took the seat opposite him, and sighed after a long drink. Her whole body relaxed. And it looked like she needed it.
“So,” Simon said, “how’s the new job?”
Penny groaned. “Horrible. You’d think there’d be better work here for a mage, but there seems to be little good use for us outside court or in the North where Micah is. Which means I’m stuck trying to sell cooking ware to people on the street.”
“I wish I could help, Pen,” Simon sighed. “If I become king, I’ll make you and Micah court mages. And you’ll be my head advisor and court mage, promise.”
She gave Simon a strange look over her cup. “You mean ‘when you’re king’, Simon, right?”
Simon sunk into his chair. He shrugged his shoulders high and slumped down. Penny slowly put her tea down and leaned forward. “Simon, you’re the crown prince. You were specifically chosen by King David to be his heir.”
“I know,” he grumbled.
“You can’t pretend you’re not anymore.”
“I know.”
“You have to accept the responsibility of-”
“I know!”
The whole house shook slightly. The side table fell over and a crack appeared in the nearby wall. Simon was horrified, his gut twisting with guilt. He put down his cup and rubbed his face up and down. Stupid magic,he thought, never listens.
“Sorry,” he groaned. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper and this is your house and I’m damaging it. Sorry-”
“Hey, Simon,” Penny stepped out of her chair and stood in front of her friend. She put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just, I hoped you would have accepted this by now.”
Simon sighed, slumping forward. “Yeah, me too. Guess not.” He ran a nervous hand through his tangled hair. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to be a king. I barely passed my civics classes, I hate policy, I’m terrible at speaking, I can barely use this supposedly amazing magic I have. I’m never going to be like David.”
“Dear Lord, I hope not.” Simon gave Penny a weird look. “Simon, King Davy has made some good changes, but he does it with an iron fist. He just barrels through no matter what the lords or the people say. That’s not a good ruler, that’s a tyrant.”
“Don’t call him that. He’s not all bad. He took me in.”
Penelope sighed, patting him kindly. “I know. Just, don’t try to be like David, Si. Be like you.”
Simon reached up and squeezed her hand. “Okay. And you’ll be my top advisor. Or bodyguard, like Premal.”
She groaned, immediately pulling away from her friend. “Please never compare me to my brother ever again. The boy has a stick jammed so far up his arse you could mistake him for a statue.”
“Too true. He’s so still and slomen that I sometimes I run into him.”
“Please keep doing that. It might make him loosen up.”
Simon sunk further into his chair. “Hm, I’ll try.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. It still felt weird from his crown. It always did. “I don’t want to go back to the castle tonight. David’s going to make me read the geography book again.”
“Well,” Penny said playfully, “I’m not working tonight. We could go exploring the Wavering Wood, like our school days.”
“But we’ve explored all The Wavering Wood,” Simon whined. But quickly, like a lightning flash, an idea came into his wild head. He grinned mischievously. Penny instinctively leaned back.
“I don’t like that look, Simon.” She raised a cautious hand raised.
He stood up, hands on his hips in triumph. “We can explore the Forbidden Lands!”
Penny groaned. She shook her hanging head and walked towards the kitchen. As well as away from her insane friend. “I knew you would say that and I still can’t believe it,” she muttered.
“C’mon, Pen, it could be fun! We’ve been through the Wood enough. We’re old pros. This would be a new adventure!” He followed after her, practically vibrating behind her as she put away the tea blocks.
“Si, the Wavering Wood may be dense, but the Forbidden Lands are different. They’re actually treacherous. Lots of steep slopes and dangerous animals. We could get seriously hurt.”
Simon waved dismissively. “You’ve got good magic, I’ve got a sword, we’ll be fine.”
Penny gave him an unamused look over her glasses. But when Simon put on his pathetic pout, her resolve buckled. He hugged her from the behind. “Please Pen? We don’t even have to go that far in. I just want to go explore somewhere new, have some fun. Like the old days.”
She still looked unamused, but Simon pouted more, rubbing up against her hair like the affectionate puppy he sometimes was. “Please?”
Penelope stayed stoic for only a few more seconds. But soon enough she sighed, posture falling along with her resolve. “Fine,” she groaned, “we’ll go exploring.”
That made Simon, crown prince of all of Watford and most powerful mage in the land, squeal like an excited school boy. He jumped up and down while saying, “thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“I hope you know that if you die, it’ll be my head on a pike. So stay alive.”
“Of course! And I’ll pay you back. Get you some fancy herbs from the court mage’s cabinet.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Si.”
He hugged her tight again. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”
Penny leaned against him. Simon put his cheek on her hair. He really did miss this. Mage’s School was tough, what with his lack of magical raising and previous poor schooling, but he met Penelope and Agatha. And for the first time in his life, he had real friends. He never thought he needed one until them. Now, he missed seeing them everyday so damn much.
Simon wanted an adventure. Like the great magical prince he thought he would be the day David took him in. Just one. That was all he needed.
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AN: If you're enjoying it so far, go to chapter 2 right here.
Summary: Baz’s father made the mistake of bragging to the gods, and now Baz has to pay the price. That is, unless a golden hero comes and saves him.
Carry On Countdown day 5: Mythology
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AN: Heyyyy I know I said I wouldn’t be doing anything for the Carry On Countdown, but I love Greek mythology, and this idea just came to my head. So, here’s another dumb greek myth AU from Theo. Enjoy! :)
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Baz
I hate this. I fucking hate this. Which is understandable. There isn’t much enjoyable about being chained to a bloody rock.
I uselessly pull at my cuffs, but they stay in place. What I wouldn’t give for Hercules’ strength right now.
“This is stupid!” I shout back to where (I think) my family and friends are. “Are we sure this is necessary?”
“The Gods demanded it!” Dev shouts in reply.
I growl and look back out the sea. “The Gods can shove it for all I care.”
“Don’t say that! Blame your dad for bragging about how brilliant you are!”
“I blame him too!”
And I really do. Stupid arsehole bragged that I could outsmart any god. (Which is probably true. I'm brilliant.) But David, King of the Gods, was not at all pleased by that statement. So he made a completely reasonable demand of my father; chain me, his only son, to a rock so I could be eaten by a sea monster as punishment for his arrogance. Which is stupid. It’s not like I said what offended the Gods. Why do I have to get eaten?!
I guess those questions are pointless right now, since I’m already chained up.
The ground starts rumbling. Fuck, guess my time is up. I can see something coming up very, very quickly in the distance. I press myself back by instinct. Not that I can escape. I just have to stand here and wait. I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, fuck, I’m going-
“Hello.”
I open my eyes, and I gasp. I must already be dead and in Elysia. Because this man has to be a gift from the heavens.
He’s perfect in every single way. Tawny skin covered in moles that looked the constellations of the sky. A beautiful thatch of curly bronze hair illuminated in the sunlight. His eyes, though plain blue, are gorgeous. The corners are crinkled up with his glowing smile. His short white chiton blows in the sea breeze, which almost makes me squeak. There’s a bag over his shoulder, along with a polished shield and strange curved sword.
“Um,” I say. “Hi.”
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Baz. Who are you?”
“My name is Simon.” He leans to the side, looking at my restraints. “Why are you here?”
I scoff and rattle my chains. “Same old story. My father pissed off a god, he has to pay a price. I’m the price.” I tilt my chin towards the ocean. “The sea monster is going to eat me.”
Simon frowns. It’s painfully adorable. “That’s not good. You shouldn’t pay for his mistake.”
“You’re telling me. But i’m already stuck here so,” I shrug, “guess I’m sea monster chow.”
Simon keeps frowning. He’s thinking, I can tell. I can almost see him the gears turning in his beautiful head. Whatever it is, he takes a little longer than I think he should considering my limited time. But eventually, he grins again, looking at me with bright, idea filled eyes.
“I could save you, from the monster. Would that be okay?”
My eyes go wide. What the tartarus? “Sure, if you can, I wouldn't complain. I’d very much like to live.”
Simon puffs out his broad chest. “Of course I can. I’m a hero.”
I’m about to question that smug statement, but the rumbling gets very close. Simon’s head whips back. He looks back at me. “Stay here,” he says, then runs towards the edge of the cliff where I can’t see.
“It’s not like I have much choice!” I yell.
Simon doesn’t reply. I huff and slump down, only chains holding me up. Suddenly, the entire rock starts shaking. I tense up. Fuck, here it comes. I look up, and the ocean explodes in a monumental geyser. The massive sea serpent rises up from the water. It’s taller than any building I’ve ever seen. It’s blue-green scales are beautiful, almost distracting from it’s enormous mouth filled with rows of pointed teeth. It growls, and large fins fold out from it’s head, trying to intimidate me. I want to be brave, but this thing is terrifying. I’m breathing heavily, pressed back up against the rock. The beast sniffs the air, then looks down at me, and roars so loud the ground rattles and my ears hurt. I press back even more.
“Simon!” I shout. “If you’re going to do something, I think you should damn well do it now!”
“Close your eyes!” he shouts back.
Well, I don’t know what he’s going to do, but if I’m going to die I’d rather not see it coming anyway. So I close my eyes tight. The monster roars again. I can smell it’s disgusting fish scented breath. I’m waiting to feel it’s bite on my flesh. I hear another bone shaking roar, but suddenly it dwindles into a whine. There’s a weird crumbling and cracking sound that follows. I can’t smell the monster’s breath anymore. Slowly, carefully, I crack open one eye. I gasp.
The towering sea serpent, the one that was about to eat me, is now a huge stone statue. Frozen with it’s mouth open to eat me, but no longer a threat. And there’s Simon, fucking floating above me. Well, more flying, actually. His shoes have goddamn tiny wings. He’s putting something back in his bag, something with snakes on it. I’m intrigued, but I’m not sure I want to know what the fuck that thing is.
Simon flies back down to stand in front of me. He’s smiling so hard his pretty freckled cheeks must hurt. “Told you I could save you.”
“It seems you were telling the truth,” I say, still in a slight state of shock.
“M-hm. I’m a hero.”
I chuckle. “Well, Mr. Hero, could you do me a favour and get rid of these?” I shake my chains.
Simon looks very surprised and a bit embarrassed. “Oh, right, sorry.”
He takes out his odd sword, then holds it up in front of me. I wince away instinctively. There’s a sound of metal on rock, then my arms are loose. I open my eyes. A few links from my chains still hang from the cuffs, but I'm free.
“Thank you,” I say. “For, everything.”
His golden skin flushes a beautiful shade of pink. He scratches the back of his neck and shuffles his feet. “No problem. Uh, all in a day’s work for a hero.”
Gods above, he’s adorable. And kind. And brave. And downright gorgeous. I take a step towards him. “Well, I’ve never met a hero before,” I drawl. “Are you all so courageous and devastatingly handsome?”
He turns bright, bright red like a tomato. He's so cute. “Well, uh, I-I don’t know. I’ve never met another one.”
I chuckle once more, taking another step closer. “What, you don’t all have some sort of club to compare grand quests?”
“Nah, doesn’t work like that. People only tell your stories when you’re dead, I think.”
“That’s depressing.” I tilt my head to the side. “Want to tell me about your quests then? I’m sure I wouldn’t mind some heroic tales.”
Simon’s blue eyes go wide. “Oh. Uh, sure, yeah, I’d like that.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I could, um, fly us out of here. Go somewhere nicer.”
“Please do. I don’t want to spend another minute on this blasted rock.”
Simon smiles. He takes my hand, rough skin dragging on mine, and pulls me even closer. So close I can feel his hot breath. My mouth feels very dry. “Mind if I pick you up?” he asks.
I nod before even thinking. “Please do.”
Suddenly, Simon puts one arm around my back and the other under my knees. He picks me up like I weigh nothing. I yelp and instinctively grab his neck. He grins, then we fly up into the sky. I hold tighter. The ground shrinks into nothingness. Dev, Niall, and my father are mere awe struck specks.
“Wow,” I gasp. “Please don’t drop me.”
Simon chuckles and pulls me closer. “What kind of hero would I be if I dropped my damsel in distress?”
I glare at his stupid smug, beautiful face. “I am not a damsel in distress. I was an unfortunate victim of a god’s bruised ego.”
“Okay, true.” His brow adorably furrows. “Which god did your father anger anyway?”
“The king arsehole himself, David.”
Simon’s eyes go wide, but his smile doesn’t go away. “Uh, that’s weird. Because David is actually my father.”
Shit. Of course, just my luck. I hold on even tighter. “Does that mean you’re going to drop me now?”
Simon looks positively horrified. “No! No, of course not. I would never. Besides, I don’t like my father that much. He’s kind of a prick.”
“Well, that we can agree on.” An idea crosses my mind. A terrible, wonderful idea that might get us struck from the sky by a bolt of lightning. But it would be worth it.
I turn towards Simon with a smug smirk. “Say, how much do you think it would piss off your arsehole father if you kissed the man he tried to have eaten?”
Simon flushes down to his neck. He looks shocked at first. But slowly, his lips pull into a big smile. “I think he’d be really pissed. But I’d really like it.”
I wind a hand in his thick curls and pull us so we’re nose to nose. (I really hope he doesn’t lose focus and let both of us fall.) “I would too.”
He leans down and presses his mouth firmly against mine. His lips taste like the sweetest fruit. I sigh into it, tilting my head, deepening the kiss. He presses me closer to his warm body. I feel like I could melt into him.
Well, this isn't how I thought my day would turn out, but I’m certainly not complaining.
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AN: Hope you liked that :D I changed stuff from the original Perseus and Andromeda myth for Carry On's sake, so don't jump down my throat because it's not accurate to myth plz. I know my greek myth lol I'm just adapting. So I don't know if I'll do anymore Carry On Countdown prompts, what with my big bang still a WIP, but who knows. If so I'll make this part of a series. Maybe inspiration will suddenly hit me again haha. Have a good day and good countdown everyone :)
My eyes open slightly. It takes awhile to get my brain back online and realise Baz has said something. Neither Baz or I have spoken in at least an hour. He’s sitting upright in my bed while he reads, and he’s always laser focused on his books. I don’t mind. I’ve been happily wrapped around his side like a smitten boa constrictor. It’s one of the many things I’ve found I love doing with Baz.
I lift up my head a bit from Baz’s side. Baz is looking ahead, glasses on his head, book still open. His expression doesn’t show anything, which can actually show more when it comes to Baz.
“What?” I whisper, voice scratchy from disuse.
Baz closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “My first name, it’s Tyrannus.”
My brain is still in sleep-mode, so it takes me some extra time to process exactly what he’s saying. But slowly, a grin spreads across my face. I feel giddy, like I’m I’ve been given keys to an entire warehouse filled with scones. “Seriously?”
Baz nods slowly. His face is still neutral, but I can see his fingers nervously drumming on his book cover. “Yes.”
“Your full name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch?”
He sighs, head tilting back against the wall with his eyes closed. “Yes.”
I burst out into loud, snorty laughs. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. I have to muffle the noise somewhat in his silk pyjama shirt. This is the most I’ve laughed at anything. Which is ridiculous but I can’t stop. Baz sighs again and strokes my hair.
“Get it out, Snow,” he says, both exasperated and amused. “Knew you’d appreciate this.”
“You really are, a gothic romance villain!” I sputter.
“Yup. I should be living in a decrepit castle with an unkindness of ravens, I know.”
I lift my head up as I wipe a laughing tear from my eye. “Where the hell did a name like that come from?”
Baz grunts, something I think he’s picked up from me. “It’s a Pitch family name. My mother insisted upon it. But no one calls me bloody Tyrannus, obviously.”
“Obviously.” I shimmy up his body, resting my chin on his bony shoulder with one leg still thrown over his. “Why are you telling me now?”
He puts his book down so he can wrap his strong arms around my torso. His smirk is unbelievably smug. “Have you ever heard of not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Snow?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, yeah. I’m just confused. I’ve been asking about your name on and off for months and you’ve always said no. So, why now?”
“Well,” Baz sighs, “I don’t like telling people my name because it’s ridiculous, but I knew you would thoroughly enjoy it. So I thought, ‘what’s a better six month anniversary present than making Snow laugh his beautiful arse off with my stupid name?’”
My brow pulls together. “What? It’s not-”
“Look at the clock, love.” He tilts his chin behind me. I twist around, and lo and behold, the clock reads 12:07 in glowing red numbers. It’s officially been our six month anniversary for seven minutes. I turn back to him with a huge smile and full heart.
“You sap,” I whisper. “And here I thought you were just going to make me breakfast.”
“Oh, I’m still doing that.” He dances his fingers up my back, bursts of sensation exploding across my skin. “I was thinking cherry pancakes and chocolate milk, because you are actually twelve.”
My stomach is grumbles instantly, and Baz snickers. Ugh, I adore him, but he’s such a bastard. I poke his shoulder with more force than necessary. “Keep talking like that and you won’t get your anniversary present.”
His face is unbelievably smug, lip quirked and thin eyebrow raised. “Oh? And that would be such a loss for me?”
I narrow my eyes. Oh he wants to be like that, huh? I smile and use one leg to grind down on his crotch, hard. Baz yelps and jolts like he’s touched an expose wire, clinging to me so hard I can feel his nails through my shirt. He glares at me with his razor sharp grey eyes, and I put on the biggest shit eating grin I can.
“Yes,” I purr, “you certainly would.”
“Bastard,” he grumbles.
“Aw, harsh words, Tyrannus.”
He groans, letting his loll back as he rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to regret telling you, aren’t I?”
“Maybe. But...” I throw my legs over him, full on straddling his waist with arms draped across his shoulders. “I’m glad you did. Thanks for telling me.”
His face melts. I love when it does that. Every bit of muscle tension just fades away, replaced with simple calm happiness. He holds my waist, pressing us chest to chest. “You’re very much welcome, love. I’m happy to tell you anything.” Baz puts a strand of hair behind my ear and traces my jaw with one callused finger. That still makes me shudder. “I trust you, Simon.”
Damn. Six months later, and he still makes my heart melt into a goopy puddle. I smile as I lean down to kiss him. He kisses me back, and we fall into a familiar rhythm. His cool lips fit into mine like they were made for each other. My hands bury themselves in his soft hair. He runs those amazing callused violinist fingers across the small of my back. We know each other so well now, even better than before if that's possible. I tug on his hair just right to get him to moan into my mouth. And he reciprocates by digging his nails into my skin, pushing a gasp and shudder out of me. Fuck, I adore him, I’m crazy about him, shit, I-
“I love you,” I whisper against his mouth.
Baz’s whole body freezes up. He pulls away from my lips with a wet pop, head almost slamming against the headboard. His pupils are huge in his wide eyes. He’s holding on to my hips with a death grip. We’re both panting, our heavy breathing loud in the night quiet room. Fuck. He looks so freaked out. I’m absolutely panicking. My heart is beating like a rabbit’s. I look down at the mattress.
“S-Sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t chew my words. That was impulsive. It just slipped out. D-Don’t feel like you have to say it back. I-”
“Do you mean it?” His voice is small, like a hopeful child. I look up again. His eyes are still wide. And his swollen red lips are slightly parted. It’s unbelievably distracting, which I don’t really need to be right now. I gulp down the lump in my throat. I may say stuff impulsively, but I wouldn’t lie about this.
I meet his eyes and nod slowly. “Yeah, I do.”
Everything happens far too fast. Suddenly, I’m flipped over on my back and pressed into the bed by the most intense kiss of my life. It makes my head spin, my toes curl, and stars explode behind my eyes. Baz keeps one hand on my face and the other over my heart. This kiss is even more all consuming than the one at Hampshire those many months ago. I feel like I’m about the melt into the mattress and through the floor until I hit the core of the Earth. And I’d be fine with it, because I’d die by Baz kissing me.
He finally pulls away. It takes us both far too long to catch our breaths. Baz keeps our foreheads and noses touching. He runs his bony finger over my cheek again and again. Even that is too overwhelming to let me to speak.
“I love you,” Baz whispers. “I love you so much, Simon. God, I've loved you almost since we met.”
All the air instantly leaves my lungs. I pull him down for another world stopping kiss. Our mouths move fervently, my hands clinging to his hair, him gripping my face. It’s like we’re over eager teenagers snogging in the back of a car. And I love it. I love him, so fucking much.
We separate when the unfortunate need for oxygen takes over. Baz hugs me, crushing us together, smiling against my cheek. “I thought I’d say it first,” he whispers playfully.
I laugh and wrap my arms around his back. “Well, I’m just full of surprises.”
His breathy laugh hits my face. “That you are, love.” Baz kisses just under my ear. Affectionate sap. ”Happy anniversary, Snow.”
“Mm.” I squeeze him even tighter. “Happy anniversary, Tyrannus.”
“Arsehole,” he grumbles. “Why do I love you again?”
“Because I’m nice and cute and really good in bed.”
Baz makes a dismissive noise. “I’d say adequate at best.”
I pinch his ankle with my toes and attempt to knee his stomach, but I don’t have enough room. I just sort of tap it, which makes him chuckle. “Bastard!”
“You love me,” he purrs.
Damn, he’s right. I love this stupid, teasing arsehole. So I kiss him again. We snog and laugh, rolling around my bed like idiots. I don’t know what we’re doing. Just tumbling and trying to grope every part of each other we can, it seems. Whatever. I’m having fun, with the man I love. Bloody Hell, I’m going to love calling him that.
There’s a banging on the other side of the wall, making Baz and I separate.
“Would you two keep it down?!” Penny’s voice is muffled, but I know she’s shouting. “It’s the middle of the night, you horny arseholes!”
“Give us a break, Pen!” I shout back. “It’s our six month anniversary and we’re in love!”
“Good for you! Shut up!”
Baz and I giggle together, still completely wrapped up in each other. He shimmies down and tucks his head under my chin, arms wrapping snug around me. He likes doing that, even though I’m shorter. He likes being close to me too.
“I love you,” he whispers against my chest.
I hold him tighter and nuzzle against his soft hair. I may have taken a strange journey of introspection and heteronormativity to end up here, but it was worth it. To be with Baz. Incredible, kind, gorgeous Baz. I’m so glad I met him. I’m so glad I fell in love with him.
“I love you, too.”
———————————————-
AN: So I finished this fic, then realised the whole "Baz's first name" was never resolved. I couldn't think of any way to integrate it in naturally, so here's this. Also wanted them admitting their love for each other. Baz and Simon deserve to confess their love in any universe! Thank you for all so much for your kudos, likes, comments, and reblogs. They mean the world to me. You guys always make me smile :)
So I've got a couple more requests to get through, but I'm also working on my big bang, so idk if I'll finish them/post anything new before January. But I'll always been reblogging snowbaz shit on here, so stick around for that haha. Thank you all again. Hope you enjoyed this ridiculous fic! :D
Summary: Simon and Penelope go on their adventure, and Simon finds something he didn't expect.
Read on AO3
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Simon had elevated sneaking out his castle to an art form. He did it for the first time when he was only eleven, just a week after he moved in. He’d left his favourite red ball behind and he wanted it back. It had never occured to Simon to ask permission to leave. He’d never asked before, because no one was ever watching him closely enough to be concerned. But when he tried to walk out the front door, the guards had stopped him. Then David yelled at him for an hour.
“You’re a prince now, Simon. For God’s sake, you can’t just leave when you like!” he’d said.
“Why not?” A young, ignorant, eleven year old Simon had replied.
“Because you're too damn important to get hurt! I can’t have you dying just after I’ve acquired you!”
Penelope thought David was cruel and considered Simon his property. Simon reminded her that David still took him in when everyone else was too afraid. He was overprotective, not evil. But Simon wasn't a child anymore, and he wanted to explore. He still felt a bit guilty. David was just trying to keep him safe. Simon would be fine though. The King didn't need to worry.
Simon secured his sword to his back, his knife to his belt, and threw on the heavy black wool cloak. In the dark, he’d look like a shadow, or a mysterious hero. Either would work. He threw the long rope out his bedroom window. It was the perfect length, measured out exactly over the years. Simon repelled down the stone wall with ease. He hit the ground with zero noise. Then he was off.
He jumped over the moat with only a bit of magic, but still launched himself too forcefully and he almost fell on his face as he landed. With only a stumble, he was running across the great lawn at breakneck speed. Through the Wavering Wood and across the downtown he went until he reached the Bunce house. Penny’s room was on the third floor. Simon wasn’t only a skilled window-escaper, but a damn good climber as well. He shimmied up the support pole and tapped on the third floor glass. The double windows sung open, revealing an annoyed Penelope.
“You can’t throw a pebble at my window? Or knock on the front door like a normal person?” she hissed.
“Okay. 1: Your mum would actually kill me if I woke her up at this time. 2: Pebbles wouldn’t make enough sound for you to hear. And 3:” He kept an arm around the pole and leaned out, stretching out so his cloak flapped in the wind. He liked to be grand sometimes. “This is much more fun.”
Penny rolled her eyes with a smile. “Weirdo. Meet me outside in a second.”
Simon saluted. “Will do!”
Penny shut her window and Simon jumped to the ground. He use his magic to cushion his fall a bit, cloak flapping up. His feet still stung from the impact but he wasn’t injured. That was the best he could hope for with his magic.
She emerged from the front, dressed in her own black cloak. Her big purple ring glowed slightly in the dark. A mischievous grin was pulled across her face. As much as she mocked Simon’s desire to explore, she loved it too. She liked being a great hero as well. The two of them pretended all the time when they were small. And now, here they were again. Penelope and Simon, fearless adventurers, off into the Forbidden Lands
Simon took her hand. “Ready?”
Penny squeezed once. “Absolutely.”
The pair ran off towards the east. The houses became sparser and sparser, fading from metropolis to wild nature. More trees, thicker grass, wilder plants. Simon and Penny’s boots cracked the twigs and crushed the foliage. They ran and ran, until they reach their destination. Simon screeched to a halt. His blue eyes were wide.
“Wow,” he gasped. “It’s just, wow.”
“Yeah, that’s an apt description,” Penny chuckled.
The ancient trees towered over them. They were like old giants, arms made from twisting branches, bodies of cracking bark, and feets of thick twining roots. The setting sun shone through the small spaces between them. Glowing oranges and fiery reds seep out to illuminate the mossy ground. It wasn’t dark, but it was dark enough to be a tad frightening. Just enough to make Simon’s excited heart race.
He tugged Penelope towards the Forbidden Lands. “Let’s go.”
They entered cautiously, still hand in hand. Their steps were incredibly loud in the darkening silence. Simon observed everything around him. It was all interesting. Tree trunks and vines and strange flowers of every colour. Simon’s pulse was beating like a rabbit’s. Anything could happen here. A monster could leap out from a dark corner. He’d battle it with his sword and emerge triumphant. Or a path that lead to another world, filled with magic. He and Penny would be sent on a great quest that would end with them winning riches and adoration. It was all so exciting to think about.
“This is incredible,” Penny whispered. “There’s so much here.”
“I know, right?” Simon giggled with a smile. “Why does have to David forbid it?”
“Because he’s a control freak?”
Simon sighed heavily. “Not right now, please, Pen. Let’s just explore.”
Penny squeezed his hand. “Alright.”
The pair of them went deeper and deeper in. The sun was getting lower, and the branch canopy thicker. Simon lost sight of where they came in. There didn’t seem to be any exit anymore. But they didn’t stop. Deeper they trekked. Further into unknown. Every time there was a bump, Simon nearly grabbed his sword and Penelope’s ring finger twitched. But they still didn’t stop.
After what felt like an eternity of walking, Simon’s eye was caught by a dim purple glow. It was coming from the twilight, but from the ground. He stopped suddenly. Penny ran right into him.
“Ow,” she grunted, “what the fuck, Si?”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“What’s what?”
Simon pointed to the glowing. “That.”
Penelope stopped rubbing her aching nose to follow Simon’s finger. She gasped very loudly in the relative quiet. Loud enough to make Simon worried.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
She dropped to her knees and started digging through the thick foliage. The glowing got brighter and brighter until Penny stopped. She squealed with excitement.
“Pen, what’s-
She looked at him with a huge grin. Simon had never seen her so elated. “Hyacinthinus candentius!” Simon was very confused, and his expression conveyed that clearly. “Glowing violets!” Still confused. Penelope sighed and shook her head. “They’re a special kind of flower that glows at night time. It’s incredibly rare. I’ve only read about it in my potion making books. Oh, I need to get a few samples. Can I borrow your knife?”
Simon sighed and handed over his dagger. Penny carefully started cutting at the plant. Simon had to keep himself from groaning. At least an hour in the forbidden lands, and the most interesting thing they’d found was a glowing flower. What a let down. He lazily walked forward a bit, head tilted upwards. There was a slight gap in the tree covering, just enough to see the sky. It was glowing deep purple too, minutes away from night time. Thin clouds rolled over him. Birds flying in a V shape flew close to the ground.
Wait, what was that?
Simon squinted, trying to see better. The birds were white with long graceful necks. Swans, that was the name. But at the head of the V, the swan was completely black. It’s feather’s were dark as pens ink. Simon had never seen anything like it before. There was another thing too. Something shiny, glinting in the low light, hanging off the black swan’s neck. Was that...a necklace? Since when did birds wear jewellery? The hell?
“Hey Pen, I’m gonna look at something,” Simon whispered. Penny didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure she heard him but he kept going anyway.
He followed the strange bird as best he could, what with the trees obscuring most of the sky. Whatever glimpse he got, he took, ducking and weaving between trees to keep pace with them. They got lower, closer to the forest. Simon saw it was definitely a necklace. A bird wearing a necklace. It was so dumb and weird, but it was something. And it definitely intrigued him more than glowing flower. The flock got closer and closer, going faster and faster. Simon had to run to keep up. They suddenly dived straight down.
“Where the fuck are the-”
And then Simon fell.
He fell, and fell, and fell a bit farther just for good measure. He curled in on himself and covered his head. The whole world spun as he tumbled over dirt and tree roots and rocks. Until he hit the ground with a resounding thud.
“Ow,” Simon whined, rubbing his aching, well, everything. It all hurt. It was a bad fall. Without his magic probably instinctively protecting him, he’d be much worse off. Slowly, he raised his head and his eyes focused on his surroundings.
“Holy shit,” he whispered.
It was...beautiful. Simon had landed in some sort of huge basin, collapsed just behind a bush. The land curved down into a bowl shape, surrounded by thick trees to hide its existence. The tall edges were covered in old vines interspersed with roots and rocks. Like someone had scooped the ground out a thousand years ago and nature grew around it. Thick grass was at the edge, where Simon landed, and just to his left was a very small wooden cottage. It couldn’t fit more than one or two people. Floating lights dimly illuminated the area. They looked like the ones Penelope would use when she was up late studying at school. Right in the centre of all this was a shining blue lake, where the swans were floating. Including the black necklace wearing one.
The bird was still a bit far away, but Simon could certainly get a better look. It really was very strange looking. Every feather was impossibly dark as night, contrasting it’s bright white companions. It still had the same characteristically graceful neck and head with a long orange bill as them though. But Simon was most stunned but it’s eyes. Swans were supposed to have beady black eyes, and the white ones did. But the black swan’s eyes were strange. They had white parts, like a human’s, and grey irises. Not just grey though. It was dark green and dark blue mixed together. Like the deep sea.
“What the fuck are you?” Simon asked, more himself than the bird.
Suddenly, the blue water started glowing under the black swan. It bubbled and churned beneath the bird like it was boiling. Simon was beyond confused.
“Wha-”
The swan started growing larger, nearly tripling in size in mere seconds. It stretched its majestic wings up towards the sky. And then they weren’t wings. They were strong human arms, with two very human hands and ten very human fingers. The swan’s body absorbed the dark feathers and stretched up and out, quickly becoming a muscled back with smooth reddish gold skin. Paddling webbed feet shifted and grew into long legs with toes touching the lake floor. Finally, it’s bill shrank, it’s head grew, until everything about the swan had transformed from bird to distinctly human.
The water stopped glowing and bubbling. The strange young man had a lean build, night black hair, and a thin silver chain around his neck. He turned his head to the side, letting Simon glimpse his angular, elegant face and slightly crooked long nose. Most importantly, Simon saw his eyes. Dark green mixed with dark blue. Deep sea water.
He was a gorgeous man, who just a minute ago had been a black swan. And was now completely naked.
Simon had to suppress a very frightened and surprised squeak.
The swan- The boy- The Swan Boy let out a long sigh. He stretched his arms up as far as he could, then rolled his head side to side and rubbed his neck. With two hands, he pushed his incredibly long wavy hair further out of his face. It reached the middle of his back in a slightly tangled mess. Frankly, it looked like he hadn’t gotten in a haircut in years. But he was tall and muscular, with swirling grey eyes and incredible cheekbones. Tangled hair didn’t diminish those at all.
Swan Boy waded through the lake towards the shore near the cottage. Sitting at its doorstep was a pile of folded clothes. He quickly threw on the long white shirt and grey trousers, tying a thin rope around his waist. It was a simple Watford peasant’s outfit, familiar to Simon from his own childhood. Swan Boy used up a fat red ribbon to tie his long hair back with a perfect bow. He finally looked decent. And Simon couldn’t hide any longer.
With shaky legs, Simon stood up from behind his bush. Swan Boy didn’t notice. Simon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out at first. What could he say? What do you say to a man who was just a swan? Well, you could at least say hello.
“Um,” Simon said meekly, “hi.”
Swan Boy’s head whipped around so fast his ponytail almost hit him in the face. His grey eyes were wide and filled with so many emotions. Fear, panic, shock, everything Simon should’ve expected. He stumbled away, bracing his hand against the cottage wall.
“Who...who the fuck are you?!” he asked. His accent was rough, but had a slightly posh undertone. Simon couldn’t place where he was from.
Simon rubbed the back of his neck nervously, looking at the ground. “Uh, I sorta fell down here, following you. Well, swan you. But then the lake glowed and-” He met Swan Boy’s scared eyes. “You were just a swan.”
His grey eyes went even wider, hand on the wall tightening. “No I wasn’t,” he said quickly.
They stared at each other, frozen and gazes locked for awhile. Simon blinked in utter confusion. His head slowly tilted to the side.
“Y-Yes, you were.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“I just saw you though...”
“You don’t know what you saw.”
“Yeah I do!” Simon stepped forward with hands on his hips. “You were a black swan sitting on the lake. Then the lake glowed and you turned into,” Simon gestured wildly at him, “you!”
Swan Boy took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, “you can’t know. You can’t be here. No one’s supposed to be here. If he sees-”
There was a rumbling in the near distance. Swan Boy’s hands fell down. His face looked even more fearful than before. Even his hands were shaking. He looked at the sound, then Simon, the sound, then Simon again. The cogs were obviously turning in his brain. It reminded Simon of Penelope when she was thinking.
“Get in the house,” Swan Boy muttered.
“What?” Simon replied dumbly.
He rolled his eyes, then stomped over to the door and pulled it open with quite a bit of anger. “Get in here. Stay out of sight. Do not come out until he leaves.”
“Until who leaves?”
The rumbling got closer. Swan Boy pointed frantically at the entrance. “Just get in if you don’t want to die!”
That got Simon’s attention. He didn’t even know this strange Swan Boy, but he also really didn’t want to die. And going into a cottage wouldn’t kill him right?
“Okay, okay,” Simon said, running in the door.
It was as simple inside as outside. Nothing more than a single room with a tiny fireplace, a cot, a pine blanket box, and a couple stacks of books. It reminded Simon of his room at the orphanage. Sparse to the point of poverty, not simple comfort.
Swan Boy pushed him further in. He jabbed a bony finger at Simon’s face, mouth pulled into a scowl. “Lay down, hide under the window. Don’t move, don’t talk, don’t even breathe.”
Simon’s brow furrowed. “But I have to breathe. To survive and stuff.”
“Ugh, right, of course,” he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I mean, just don’t make any noise.”
“O-Okay.”
“Now!”
“Okay, fine!” Simon flopped down to his stomach, pressed up against the wall under the sole tiny window. He glared up Swan Boy. “This good enough?.”
Swan Boy glared right back. His eyes were daggers. “Just be quiet.”
He closed the door quietly, but Simon was sure he’d have slammed it if he could.
The thundering had gotten incredibly loud. Like a storm right on the doorstep. Simon had to grit his teeth and cover his ears. But then there was a deafening clap, followed by silence. Simon slowly released lowered his hands. The conversation was already half started.
“No, I have not left, Sir. There’s no point,” Swan Boy said. His voice was steady, but smaller than before.
“I’m only asking to be safe. You’ve tried before,” another person replied. He sounded deep, gravelly, almost inhuman. It had to be magically altered. No real person sounded like that.
“That was years ago,” he muttered. There was suddenly a loud thunder clap.
“Do not speak to me like that!” The strange person boomed so loud it shook the cottage.
A pause, then Swan Boy cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir.”
“You damn well better be sorry. Don’t forget, you’re only alive by my allowance.” The person took a deep breath. “Now, do you require anything new? Food? Books?”
“I find my own food, but I could always use more books.”
“Fine.”
There was another pause. Simon’s curiosity got the better of him. He lifted his head slightly, just to peak out the window. Swan Boy was standing near the lake. In front of him was a hooded figure, face completely obscured. Simon guessed from his build that he was a man, but it could only be a guess. The cloak was simple grey wool with no markings whatsoever. This man didn’t look that intimidating, just mysterious, but Swan Boy had his arms crossed and shoulders hunched. His face was calm but his entire body spelled afraid.
Cloaked Figure reached out towards Swan Boy. He flinched but didn’t back away. Figure grabbed his ponytail, clutching it in his black gloved hand. Swan Boy winced.
“Your hair has gotten too long,” he said with grave disapprovement, his fake voice only enhancing the intimidation. “It must be cut.”
“Understood,” Swan Boy said.
Figure reach inside his cloak. He moved so fast Simon could barely register what happened. In a flash, Swan Boy’s ponytail was sliced off just above the ribbon. His raven hair fell into an uneven curtain around his face, long in the front and far shorter in the back. Instead of throwing the hair away, the Figure put it inside his coat. Must not like to litter, Simon thought.
“Much better,” Figure said. “I’ll bring you more books in three days time.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Swan Boy said quietly.
“Have a good night, Basil.”
“Good night, Sir.”
The thundering started again. Smoke formed under Figure’s feet. It quickly encased his entire body, making him indistinguishable from a storm cloud. He rose up and out of the lake. Swan Boy, or Basil possibly, watched him go. Soon, he sighed, tension quickly leaving his body. His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand over his face. He picked up a piece of black hair, rolling it between his fingers as he looked at it sadly. Simon didn’t like his face sad. It seemed wrong for someone so pretty to be so forlorn.
Swan Boy/Basil strolled over to the lake. A white swan waded close to the shore. He sat next to it and petted it’s head. The bird nuzzled against him, and though Simon could only see a corner of his face, he swore there was the hint of a smile
Simon finally got up from the floor and left the cottage. Like approaching a wild animal, he cautiously stepped towards the other boy, stopping a few feet behind him.
“Your name is Basil?” he asked.
Maybe-Basil jolted, making his swan friend honk and flap its wings. He whipped around to face Simon with a shocked expression. “Good God,” he panted. “I forgot you were here.”
“Sorry. So, is your name Basil?”
He turned away, keeping his back to Simon. “None of your business.”
Simon huffed. “Fine, be like that, Swan Boy.”
“Don’t call me that,” he hissed.
“You won’t tell me your name. What else am I supposed to call you?”
“You’re not supposed to call me anything, you’re supposed to leave.”
Simon huffed again, crossing his arms. “You’re not very nice.”
“Gold star for the observation,” he snapped. “Now go.”
“Wish I could just go, mate, but I told you, I fell by accident. I have no clue how to get out. Could you point me to exit?”
He whipped his head again. His mouth was turned into deep scowl and his eyes were filled fire. Simon swore the air itself was heating up. “Do you think I’d still be here if there was one?!”
Shit, Simon thought, bad Simon, watch your words. “S-Sorry, that was really rude, so sorry.”
Swan Boy scoffed and looked away again. The guilt sat horribly in Simon’s stomach. He barely knew this man, but he hated seeing anyone upset, especially when it was his own fault. Cautiously, he sat near the other boy. Not too close to make him uncomfortable, but enough to show he wasn’t afraid.
“My name is Simon, by the way,” he said quietly. He didn’t mention the Crown Prince part. He preferred being just Simon if he could.
Swan Boy-or-Basil didn’t respond for awhile. Simon tried to occupy himself by watching the lights, watching the swans, but he was naturally restless. His fingers drummed on his knee, foot jittering up and down. He usually didn’t mind silence. But this was so tense, so precarious. It made his heart thump far too hard.
“Baz,” Swan Boy whispered.
“What?” Simon replied like the idiot he knew he was.
“Basil is my full name,” he said a bit louder. “But I prefer Baz. It’s shorter, easier to say.”
Simon looked over, and Basil, or Baz he supposed, was petting the white swan again, body curled in on itself. His face tried to look neutral, but he was biting at his lip. He shifted uncomfortably, moving away from Simon but not too far. He didn’t seem used to sitting near someone. Simon was pretty sure he wasn’t used to people in general.
“Okay,” he said cheerily. “Hi, Baz. Nice to meet you.”
He offered his hand like David taught him, to be polite. Baz jerked away. He seemed more shocked than afraid. But still, it wasn’t a good reaction. Simon started lowering his arm, but then Baz cautiously reached forward as well. Slowly, with massive amounts of unsureness from both, their hands met. Baz’s palms were incredibly rough. His skin was somehow more callused than rough-and-tumble Simon’s. Though eight years of palace living had smoothed his out a bit. Baz shook once then pulled away very quickly. He immediately went back to petting his swan. And silence reigned like a tyrannical king for a long time
“So,” Simon let the vowel drag out slowly, “you live here?”
Baz scoffed. “Obviously.”
“It’s really nice.”
“You don’t have to pretend you like it,” Baz muttered, focusing intensely on his pet.
Simon gave him a confused look. “I’m not pretending. It’s very pretty here. The lights, the lake, everything.”
Baz didn’t say anything. He scratched under his bird’s bill and stroked it’s wing. He obviously had great affection for this animal. Simon leaned closer.
“Is that one your brother or sister?” he asked. “Or your Mum or Dad or something?”
Simon had never seen someone whip their head around so fast. Baz’s expression was dizzying array of confusion, frustration, and anger. Simon had seen it before; every time he asked a question so stupid that David couldn’t believe he’d let the words out of his mouth.
“What the fuck!?” Baz spat. “No! No, of course not. Where the fuck did you get that?!”
Simon shifted nervously and scratched his neck. He stared at the ground intently. “I-I don’t know. That swan seems to really like you and you were just a swan like ten minutes ago. And I guess I want to know if you’re a guy who turns into a swan or a swan who turns into a guy. But I’m bad at making my words...work right.” He buried his face in his hands. “Sorry, I’ll shut up now.”
He didn’t look up. He could feel the shame bubbling in his gut. This was an old situation. Him saying something dumb without meaning to, getting yelled at for it and absolutely deserving it. Nine years and the habit was still unbroken. Simon was still an idiot.
“I’m a human first,” Baz said quietly. “Swan second.”
Simon lifted his head slowly. When he looked at Baz, the other boy surprisingly wasn’t angry, not like David was. He didn’t look happy either, because Simon wasn’t sure his pretty pouty face was capable of that. He was just calm, maybe even understanding.
The prince nodded. “Okay, cool.”
They went silent. Simon was afraid to ask a dumb question again, so he focused on kicking clumps of dirt into the lake. He had little idea of how to act in normal social situation. And this was far, far beyond normal.
“Did you actually just fall down here?” Baz asked.
Simon rubbed his neck. “Uh, yeah, I did.”
“Just, tripped into a ten foot hole in the ground?”
“Yes...”
Baz scoffed. “You’re a special kind of idiot, aren’t you?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Simon chuckled in an effort to cover up his embarrassment. “That’s what everyone says.”
He sighed as his shoulders slumped forward. “Well, you should probably find a way to get out of here.” He paused for a moment, focusing on his swan friend. “You can,” he whispered, so quiet Simon barely heard it.
Simon’s eyes flicked over. Baz’s face was stone, making him look even more like a statue than his bone structure did. Simon’s mind went back to what he heard, when Baz was talking to the hooded man. “No, I have not left, Sir. There is no point.”
“Oh, okay,” Simon stuttered. “I’ll find a way.”
He almost asked if Baz wanted to come with him. But he quickly shut his mouth. From the cold, tense look on his face, Baz truly couldn’t leave, and it caused him far too much pain.
Simon walked up to the sloping wall. It really was ten feet tall. Thick tree roots dove in and out of the dirt like sea serpents in the ocean. Possible foot holds, he thought, but covered in moss. He placed a hand on the wood, feeling slippery moss. Simon needed something to hold onto. Something steady...
He unsheathed his longsword. It wasn’t his favourite weapon, but it was useful. Simon gripped it tight, and thrust the blade right into the dirt. He held onto the hilt as he swung his feet up on the tree root. He slipped and slid but didn’t fall. He wrapped his free arm around another root. Simon removed the sword, then plunged it into a higher, and hoisted himself onto the next foot hold he had. It worked! Simon giggled quietly to himself. Penny would be proud of his ingenuity.
Simon turned his head back towards the lake. Baz’s head whipped around, facing the water, but he had quite obviously been looking at Simon. His face was hidden by the veil of black hair. Simon wondered what his expression was. He hoped Baz wasn’t sad, but that was unlikely. He didn’t seem the happy kind. Which was sad in it’s own way.
“B-Bye,” Simon said weakly.
Baz didn’t even acknowledge his farewell. He petted his swan and sat at his lake. Simon’s departure had no seeming effect on him. Which didn’t hurt Simon’s stupid vulnerable feelings, not at all.
The prince scaled the wall, hoisted himself up and up and up, until he almost reached the top. The edge was right there. Simon got his hand on it, about to get out. He turn his head slightly. Baz was smaller now, but he was still there, sitting by the lake. A seemingly constant fixture, unable to move forward, to change. Simon wondered how long he’d been one in this lake.
“Simon?! Simon, where are you?”
Penny’s voice triggered an automatic response in Simon. He threw himself over the edge, onto the proper ground. His legs were weak from climbing, but he stood tall with an arm on the tree.
“I’m here Penny!” He yelled into the endless dark.
Rapid footsteps got closer and closer. Simon watched a familiar figure emerge from the trees and immediately slam into him, nearly knocking him off balance. Penny crushed him in her arms.
“Hi, Pen,” he chuckled. “Worried about me?”
Penny pulled back, and promptly smacked her best friend over the head. “What the hell, Si?! You just vanished! Dear God, if you died, Davy would’ve gone ballistic, Watford wouldn’t have an heir, and I-I-” She sniffled and wiped her nose. Simon couldn’t see her face that well, but he could guess she was crying a bit. She hugged him tightly again. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, arsehole.”
Simon squeezed her tight, reassuring for both him and her. “I’m sorry, Penny. I shouldn’t have scared you.”
“Damn right.” She pulled back, glaring with confusion. “Where the hell were you anyway?”
“Oh I was just over-” Simon turned around, pointing at the the grotto. But there was no grotto. No lake or swans or floating lights. Only more darkness and trees. “It...was right there...” he whispered.
“What was right there?”
Just a magical lake where a black swan who’s actually a boy lives. Y’know, the usual, Simon thought, but he didn’t dare say. Baz barely tolerated Simon seeing him by accident. He probably wouldn’t appreciate another person knowing he was there. And really, Simon wasn’t sure Penny would believe him. Simon wouldn’t believe it he hadn’t actually seen it himself five minutes ago. Maybe he should just explain it later...
“Uh, a really cool big rock,” he said. “I swear I just saw it. Had all these cool markings and shit. I must’ve gotten turned around.”
Penny sighed with utter exasperation. “Yeah, I can believe that. You get lost turning left. So stop wandering off!”
She poked his chest hard enough to make him stumble. Simon chuckled, grabbing her hand. “Will do, Penny. Maybe we should get out of here. I’m a bit adventured out.”
“Yeah, me too. Let’s head home.”
They walked hand in hand back towards the forest edge. But Simon tired to commit landmarks to memory. A gnarled root, a strange flower, in case he needed to remember where he was. In case he ever had the chance to come back.
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AN: So some of you, or let's be honest, most of you, have probably already figured out what's going on. If so, I kindly ask for you to please not spoil it for those who haven't in the comments. Thanks :) I know it's obvious, but I hope you guys instead enjoy watching the characters learn, grow, make connections, and figure out what's going on for themselves. We may know but they obviously don’t know just yet. Just you wait though :D Until next time friends!
AN: Oooooh this chapter is fuuuuun :) I loved writing all this fic but especially this chapter. Also, forgot to mention it last chapter, but yes "Baz in glasses" is BACK baby!!! I love this HC and I will keep putting it in fics until I die. Well, enjoy this chapter :D
Tagging: @jeansjeansjeansjeans
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I have to do a double take of the building. I check the address Baz text sent me, and it’s right. This fancy ass mostly glass white condo is definitely the right place. Well, Baz said his family was rich, maybe they bought him a whole condo for uni? Yeah...
I walk and type in the buzzer code Baz gave me. It rings low and loud, until a very pissed off voice comes on. And it’s definitely not Baz.
“What?!” The posh woman barks out. I instinctively step away.
“Uh, I’m here to see Baz?” I say with extreme caution. “I’m Simon, by the way.”
“Oh, right, Basilton said you were coming.”
Basilton? What? Okay, not important right now. There’s an obnoxiously loud buzz and the door unlocks. I rush in and go towards the elevator. It’s all cold grey fancy steel. I feel very intimidating as I go up to the twenty fifth floor. Luckily, Baz’s flat is just to the right, so I don’t get lost. (Penny says I get lost turning left.) I knock on the door lightly. A few heavy steps come towards me, then the door swings open, making me take a step back.
This woman is definitely not Baz, but I’m pretty damn sure they’re related. Same skin tone, same grey eyes, same black hair. Though she has a thick white blonde streak at the front. I can’t tell if it’s dyed or natural. She’s wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans with old Doc Martens. She looks like she just came out from a seventies punk bar, and she was the headline act.
“Uh, hello,” I say very cautiously. “I’m Simon.”
“So, you’re Simon,” she replies with a weird suspicion. “You’re shorter than I thought you would be.”
“Um, sorry?”
“Fiona!” I hear Baz shout from behind her. He appears suddenly, glasses on top of his head, hair falling in a lazy wave over his angry face. He's dressed in a loose white shirts and blue jeans we picked out at W Wood. Wait, are jeans his lazy clothes? Huh, odd. He looks good, so whatever.
“Stop picking on Simon,” he growls at the women, apparently called Fiona, glaring viciously. Fiona glares right back.
“I wasn’t picking on him,” she says with bite.
Baz rolls his eyes dramatically. “Of course you weren’t.” He finally looks at me and immediately grins. “Hi, Snow, glad you could make it. This is my Aunt Fiona. Please ignore her. She’s over protective, like an old pit bull.”
Fiona scoffs loudly and smacks his arm. “I am not old, you wanker! I’m only thirty eight!”
“Not the important thing here. Now, Fiona, don’t you have somewhere to be?” He raises one eyebrow impossibly high. Fiona glares even harder.
“This is my apartment, y’know.”
“Our apartment now. And you’re going to Nicky’s. Seriously, why don’t you two just get a flat together and give me the place to myself 24/7?”
Fiona rolls her eyes. Wow, I can see where Baz gets it from. “Please, we’re too new for that.”
“You’ve known each other since high school.”
“But only been dating for a few months. We’re still in the sexy honeymoon phase, Basil,” she says with a wink. My cheeks heat up, Baz is obviously unimpressed, and Fiona looks very smug. I feel like I’m intruding on a much larger conversation.
“Fiona,” Baz sighs, “please, just go see your boyfriend. Come back tomorrow.”
She sighs over dramatically. “Fine. Leave my kitchen and living room in working order by the time I come back, please.”
Baz sighs in the exact same way. “Yes, of course, now go!”
Fiona walks past me, patting my shoulder as she goes. “Nice meeting you, Simon. Have fun.” Her nails dig into my skin for a brief moment. Not enough to really hurt but enough to sting. I don’t think she likes me that much...
Baz physically pushes Fiona out the door. She flips him off. He groans and gestures me inside. “Sorry about that. Come in, come in. I’ve almost got supper ready.”
I follow in after him, unzipping my hoodie, since this fancy place is certainly well heated. “It’s fine, man. I didn’t know you lived with your Aunt.”
“Yeah, sorry, never came up. She lives close to campus so it was easier to just take her extra room instead of trying to find another place. And I think my parents want her to spy on me for them.”
I chuckle as I kick off my trainers. “And how is that working out? She didn’t strike me as someone who would tattle to your parents.”
Baz’s lip pulls up into a smirk. “Well, she likes to be a shit and pretend she’ll tell them about my activities. But at the same time, she let me smoke half her joint last night while we watched Monty Python and ate peanut butter from the jar.”
“Oh my god,” I giggle. “That sounds amazing!’
“It certainly was. Now come on, I’m starved.”
We walk down the short hall into the actual apartment. I have to stop myself from gasping. The whole place is kinda intimidating but cool. It’s like what you see in catalogues. All white walls, modern furniture, and large bay windows with a view of the steel and brick horizon. Though there’s also enough personality to it to show that two people live here. There's lots of photos on the walls of Baz and Fiona and people who look enough like them to be relatives. Some old books are spread out on the coffee table, with lots of sticky notes on the pages in Baz's wispy handwriting. And next to the volumes are rolling papers I can safely assume are Fiona’s. Looks like a fun place to live.
I follow his voice into the kitchen. It’s all white with fancy high tech chrome appliances. Baz is bending over the oven, making the denim stretch across his arse. I blush and avoid looking. The memory of...that part of his anatomy is still burned into my brain. It never goes away, just fades and pops back up at literally the worst possible moments. Like late at night, persuading my hand to “accidentally” slip into my pants. Or right now, when I really can’t let my hand go anywhere to relieve the heat he makes in my stomach. Fuck, my head hurts.
“Perfect,” Baz says cheerily. “Cooked all the way through.” He pulls out a pan with two herb covered chicken breasts and oily asparagus stalks. He opens the pot on top of the stove. It’s filled with absolutely divine tomato sauce. My eyes get very wide.
“Wow,” I gasp. “When you said you were making supper, I thought you meant boxed pasta or some shit.”
Baz smiles smugly. “I’m classier than that, Salisbury.”
His smirk makes my stomach even hotter. I shrug. “Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“Damn right. Now go sit down, I’ll bring the plates out in a second.”
He gestures to the large glass dining table near the window. There’s two rich crimson placemats across from each other, twin wine glasses already filled. The lights are low, matching the setting sun. Everything is soft orange, red, and violet. It’s really nice. This is the fanciest supper set up I've ever seen. And Baz did it for me. He's so nice. My knees wobble a bit as I take my chair. Baz soon comes out with two full plates.
“Dinner is served,” he announces grandly, placing the food in front of me. It’s chicken, asparagus, and some unfamiliar rice dish. It’s got lentils, fried onions, chickpeas, macaroni noodles, and that amazing tomato sauce all on top. My mouth immediately starts watering.
“Thank you,” I reply as he sits down. I wait for him to unfold his napkin and everything to be polite. Mum taught me that. But it’s hard. I really want to eat.
Baz gives me an amused look. “Dig in, Snow, I can see you salivating all the way from over here.”
I roll my eyes, but still grab my utensils. “Shut up.” I put a large forkful of rice in my mouth, and it’s a flavour explosion. My tastebuds are singing with joy. I’ve never had something this good. I start shovelling huge bites in, making Baz snort with laughter.
“You like it?” he asks with amusement.
“Uh, fuck yeah! What is this, ambrosia?”
Baz chuckles and shakes his head, “No, just some good spices. That’s called koshari. It’s a very famous dish in Egypt. I’m half Egyptian, so I wanted to try to make it. Connect to my heritage and all.”
I try to smile, but my mouth is partially filled with koshari, so it’s difficult. “That’s awesome. Like, it’s really cool you’ve got that connection to your culture and stuff. Plus it’s just like super delicious.”
He half smiles, lifting his wine glass like a true gentleman, “The chef appreciates your compliments.”
I lift my own and clink our cups together. Like we’re fancy or something. “You’re very welcome.”
We trade easy conversation as we eat. Baz has completely caught up in his classes. Actually, he’s probably ahead. He’s incredibly smart so I’m not surprised. I’m getting better at paying attention in class. Penny gave me a fidget spinner, which I think was supposed to be a joke, but it’s actually helped me channel some of that restless energy. Plus I’m just super interested in our therapy unit. It’s what I study social work for, to help people. Baz calls me exceedingly noble. From his small smile, I assume it’s a compliment.
Once dinner is finished, we put our plates in the sink. I try to start washing but Baz slaps my hand away.
“None of that,” he says resolutely. “I’ll do it later.”
I put my hands in my pockets. I know there’s no point in arguing with him, amazing stubborn bastard. “Alright. What should we do? I don’t really feel like going home yet.”
A strange look crosses over his face. Both nervous and excited maybe? It’s so fleeting I can’t tell before it’s gone. He nods slowly. “Want to watch a movie? I’ve got Fiona’s Netflix account.”
“Yeah sure. Sounds good.”
We walk over to Fiona’s pristine white couch. I flop down while Baz sits properly, ankles crossed, straight back, hands in his lap. Jeez, he can still be so uptight sometimes. He flips down his glasses, probably so he can actually see the TV. Fuck, they really do look good on him. I have to make an effort not to stare.
“What should we watch?” I ask. “Horror? Comedy? Drama?”
Baz shrugs. “Well, I only watch documentaries, which you’d probably find very boring. So I leave the choice up to you, Salisbury.” He hands me the remote like a gentleman offering a bouquet. I take it graciously.
“Oh thank you kind sir,” I say in my poshest accent. Baz rolls his eye and chuckles.
I flip through Netflix for a little while. Well, Baz wasn’t lying about only watching documentaries. All his recently watched are movies about forests and wars and violinists. Bo-ring! I go to the romcom section, because I love stupid tropey shit. Penny calls me a hopeless romantic. I just like that everything works out in the end. Real life isn’t usually like that. It’s nice to pretend. So I pick “Notting Hill”. It’s one my favourites.
“Dear Lord,” Baz mutters part way in, “what is this?”
“It’s a rom com,” I reply.
“So, I’m supposed to believe that a movie star just happens to wander into this guy’s store? And she kisses him impulsively? Seriously?”
I playfully smack his arm. Wow, his hands are rough, his arms are smoother than sea glass. “It’s not supposed to be realistic, it’s supposed to be fun.”
He snorts. “Well, all I can focus on is the plot holes.”
I sigh. My head, heavy from food drowsiness, lolls to my right. It takes me a bit too long to realise it’s fallen on Baz’s shoulder. Shit, didn’t mean to do that. He’s incredibly tense, every muscle pulled tight. I nearly move off, but then he relaxes. His legs uncross, and his hands fall to beside his sides. So, I guess this is okay. And his shoulder, despite it’s boney-ness, is actually really comfy. Yeah. this is cool. I’ll just stay here.
The movie keeps going, but it kind of falls to background noise for me. I know it off by heart anyway. I’m more focused on other things for some reason. Like the feel of Baz’s soft shirt on my cheek. Or that his whole jean covered leg is pressed against mine. Or how close his rough farmer-violist hand is to mine. I’ve only held it a couple times, and only loosely. I do wonder...
Before thinking about it too much, I reach over and grab his hand. Baz inhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t pull away. Our hands rest together. We stay like that for awhile. Watching the movie, just casually holding hands. Normal friend stuff. His skin is still as scratchy as I remember, creating sparks of sensation all over my palm. And his fingers are quite long. Pianist fingers, I think that’s the term. They’re nice. I like his hand. I like holding it.
Eventually, I lift my head up, and my eyes flick over to him. I just want to see if he’s enjoying the movie. Holy shit, he’s looking back. His grey eyes are staring right at me. It almost feels like he’s looking through me they’re so piercing. It makes me shudder involuntarily. His eye move lower, to... Wait is he looking at my-
And then he kisses me.
Holy shit. A guy is kissing me. More importantly, Baz is kissing me. His face is so close to mine, black hair falling around us, glasses pushing against my nose. Baz’s lips are smooth, soft, and kinda cold. Well, not cold, just chilly, like an ocean breeze. It feels nice. His kiss feels nice. Oh my god, I’m musing about a guy kissing me, about how much I like it. What the hell?!
Our mouths are still, just pressed together chastely. Like we're a pair of awkward pre-teends having out first kiss. But really I’m too stunned to move. Then Baz pulls away slightly. His eyes are a bit glassy and his breathing is unsteady. “Is this okay?” he whispers.
That’s a really good fucking question. Am I okay with this? My lips are still tingling, and my pulse is hammering in my ears. Every fibre in my body is screaming at me to get close to him again. I nod. “Yeah,” I reply breathlessly, “yeah, it’s okay.”
Baz smirks, pushing his glasses on top of his head before kissing me again. He’s less hesitant this time, moving his mouth more insistently and curling his long fingers around my nape. I try to match his pace, try to pull him closer too, clutching his shirt in tight fists. I just want him so close. I let out an involuntary moan when his nails prick my skin. The slight sting makes everything go spinny. My mouth falls open, and I moan again as his tongue slowly slides across mine. Holy shit, why does this feel so much better than any kiss I’ve had before? I’ve only snogged a few of people, so it’s not like I’ve got a ton of experience, but I’ve got enough. And this is by far the best snog I’ve ever had.
I don’t even realise I’ve been leaning back until I’m laying down with Baz over me. He’s got one hand in my hair, the other trailing along my side, and a leg between mine. I’m holding his hips, dangerously close to going under his shirt. I really want to feel those muscles I saw in the changeroom, but I don’t want to do anything like that without Baz’s permission. Consent is necessary and all. But suddenly, without even moving off my mouth, Baz grabs my wrist and shoves my hand right under his shirt. Okay, pretty damn sure that’s consent. I trace the ridges and planes of muscle in his back, memorising the how ridiculously good they feel. He groans into my mouth. It makes my whole body shudder. And I full on gasp when he grinds his knee between my legs. My whole brain fucking explodes. Oh man, I am certainly “reacting” very, very strongly right now.
Through all the arousal haze, I wonder if this, what we’re doing, means I’m gay. But I don’t want to kiss Baz because he’s a guy. I want to kiss Baz because he’s Baz. Because he’s nice and funny and watched Doctor Who for me. And sure, he’s also really pretty with his wavy black hair and deep sea eyes. But anyone would notice that. I’ve noticed that other guys are pretty before. I can be straight and observant, right? I don’t know. It’s all too confusing to think about now. I just want to keep holding Baz. I have to do that.
Fuck, how long has he wanted this? How long have I wanted this? I would say I didn’t, but then why are a list of things I want to do to Baz? Like this; I push a hand into his hair. The strands are soft, slipping through my fingers, just like I thought. I clench my fist and shove his face more into mine.
Suddenly, Baz pulls off my mouth.
“Sorry,” I say (I’m out of breath it’s embarrassing.)
“No, no, don’t be sorry. Just,” he takes a breath, “want to continue this somewhere more comfortable?”
I’m panting very hard, but so is he. His face is flushed, eyes half lidded, lips swollen and wet. He looks fucking hot. My whole body is vibrating with energy. I want to pull him down and kiss him until our mouths are sore. And well, this couch is a bit small to stay here for that long. So I nod. “Sure, sounds good.”
Baz grins, showing all his bright white teeth. “Wonderful.”
He climbs off me. His legs are shaky, but when I stand up, mine are too. Baz turns off the telly and takes my hand, leading me down the narrow hall towards a room. Once we enter, it’s very obvious that this is Baz’s room. It’s extremely neat because of course Baz is a clean freak. But the desk is covered in a mess of books and sheet music. His violin case sits in the corner. I wonder if I’ll ever hear him play.
We stop in front of the large bed. His sheets are all black, and they look like silk. Well, that's definitely more comfortable than the couch. Baz turns towards me. His face is lit up by the setting sun, skin glowing perfectly in the fiery light. Wow, he’s somehow even prettier right now. But, is he nervous? He’s chewing on his lip, and the hand I’m not holding keeps flexing. I guess he is. Huh, I haven’t seen him anxious since the W Wood. And right now he’s much worse.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat a bit, “how far do you want to go? We could just keep snogging, that’s fine with me. Or we could do more. Whatever you feel like, I’ll be fine with.”
Fucking hell he’s so considerate. It makes my heart speed up, for some reason. But, what do I want? I want to touch him, to kiss him a lot. For him to kiss me and touch me too. Maybe in places other than my lips. Actually, fuck "maybe", I desperately want that, the need itching under every part of my skin. Even though I've never wanted a guy to do that before. Even though I’m straight. I’m trying not to think too much about those contradictions and focus on how good kissing him felt. I really don’t need a headache at this time.
“I-I’m good for anything.” Wait no, not right. “But not ‘all the way’, though. I don’t think I’m prepared for that, in every sense of the word.”
Baz chuckles, his other hand grabbing mine. “That’s fine, no worries. Neither am I, to be honest. But there’s lots of other stuff we can do.”
I look down at the floor, stomach twisting terribly with nerves. “Um, if I’m being honest, Baz, I, uh, have no clue what to do. I’ve never done this before, with a guy.”
He doesn’t say anything. I expected him to laugh, to tease me at least a bit, but instead I feel his rough pianist finger knock up my chin. His mouth is soft, and his eyes are kind and understanding. Why are my knees so weak? “It’s okay, you don’t have to be nervous. We can try things, but you can absolutely stop me if I you want to, alright?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, taking a moment to trace my jaw with a single callused fingertip. “I’ll take care of you, Simon.”
Bloody Hell, I’m not sure I have knees anymore now.
We lean forward simultaneously, lips instantly moulding together like we’ve been kissing forever. It feels so fucking good that I barely notice him pushing up my shirt. He pulls away when he reaches my arms. His face asks the silent question, and I nod in reply. He pulls the shirt over my head and tosses it to the side. I push at the hem of his. He happily helps me get it off, whipping it on the floor. My hands instantly go to his bare torso and chest. I try to touch all of it. Stomach, chest, shoulders, everything. I feel every bit of smooth skin and sharp angle, and they’re just as wonderful as I imagined.
“You’re actually perfect,” I murmur.
Baz smirks. He clenches his stomach, showing off his stupid perfect abs. I can’t suppress the squeak that pops out of my mouth.
“Why thank you,” he drawls sarcastically. I scoff, hoping it makes up for my red cheeks. He slowly runs his hand over my bare side the across my stomach. My whole body feels electric. I shiver and sigh. “You’re pretty damn amazing yourself, Snow.”
I attempt to laugh off my embarrassment. “T-Thanks.”
He kisses me softly again, arms winding around my neck. I hold his waist tightly. I nearly pull him over as Baz spins me around and pushes me on the bed. He stands over me, cupping my cheeks as we keep kissing. Soon he breaks away and starts trailing his cool lips slowly down my neck. It feels so good my eyes roll back in my head. I fall back on the mattress, propped up on my elbows, legs still hanging off the edge. He goes further and further. Across my collarbone, down my sternum and stomach, until he reaches just above my trouser waistband. Baz looks up from where he’s kneeling between my legs, eyes so dark I can only see the smallest ring of grey, and places a tentative hand over the button.
“May I?” he asks breathlessly.
I’m gripping the sheet so hard my knuckles are white. I can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or anticipation. Probably both. I know what he means. I know what he wants to do. Part of me is still confused by my own desire, but a louder part is only thinking in sex. In “yes, yes, please, more, do it.” And it’s a lot louder.
“Yeah,” I say, falling fully onto my back, "you can.”
I lay there, staring at the blemish free white ceiling, breathing harshly, just waiting. Everything is quiet. The only sound is the distant honks from far below and my own clamorous heartbeat. Baz doesn’t do anything for awhile and I start to think if I fucked up somehow. Am I too eager? Has he changed his mind? Is this all one big stupid mistake?
But then he pulls my pants down and takes me in his mouth. Then, well, I’m not thinking very much at all anymore.
———————————————-
I roll off Baz and flop next to him on his bed. We’re both panting and sweating and a bit sticky, bare bodies glistening in the city lights. It’s very dark out now. The sun set awhile ago. I manage to twist my still dizzy head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. Holy shit, we just spent over two hours having sex. My muscles are totally dead, throbbing with blissful exhaustion.
And it hits me, again: I just had sex with Baz, with a guy, and I really, really liked it.
So does this mean I'm gay? But I liked it because it was Baz, not because it was a guy. He was so patient, so attentive, pushing just enough to get me to try new things but never so far that I was uncomfortable. I'm still unbelievably confused, but mostly just really fucking satisfied.
“Wow,” I say, voice raw and scratchy. “That was just, wow.”
Baz tries to chuckle, but his voice isn't much better than mine. “Had fun, Snow?”
“Uh, yeah! That was like the best sex I’ve ever had.” It’s only after the words burst out do I realise how fucking embarrassing that sounds. Baz laughs, of course. I cover my burning face. “I’ll shut up now,” I groan.
“Oh don’t be embarrassed, darling.” Baz peels my hands off, grinning face now hovering over mine. I can feel his foot pressed to my bare calf. He kisses my knuckles lightly. A thousand butterflies take off in my stomach. “It was really good for me too.”
His face is shiny with sweat, wavy hair all tangled because I kept pulling it (not that he complained). The city light dances across his skin perfectly. There’s a lot more butterflies flying now. I cup the back of his head and pull his mouth down to mine. I just want to be closer to him right now. It’s not urgent like before. It’s simply a lazy slide of our tired mouths, a calm way to end the frantic evening.
Baz pulls back slowly. His breath tickles my face. Then he collapses on top of me, face buried in the crook of my neck. I snort out a laugh I can’t help. He’s just too adorable.
“You tired, Basilton?” I tease.
“Shut up,” he grumbles. “And don’t use my full name. Only my family does that.”
“But it’s so funny! Your name is fucking Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You sound like an Edgar Allan Poe character.”
He chuckles against my skin. “Then you’ll love my first name.”
My heart does double time. I look down at him as best I can. “What the hell is your first name?!”
I feel his shit eating grin on my collarbone. “A man is allowed to have a few secrets, Snow.”
Damn, I really want to throttle the smug perfect bastard. He groans as pushes himself off me, slowly rolling onto his back then sitting upright, legs hanging off the edge. He stretches his arms to the sky, showing the grand muscular expanse of his back. (There are a lot of angry red scratches from my nails. Fuck, I was really into it.)
“I don’t know about you,” he yawns, “but I’m completely knackered. I’m brushing my teeth and going to bed.” His head turns halfway, showing just one eye, gaze slightly unsteady. Is he nervous again. “You want to stay? It’s alright if you don’t.”
Honestly, I’m not sure my muscles are strong enough right now to get me home. Even so, I do want to go. So I nod. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”
His mouth quirks up. “Good.”
Baz slips on his boxers and hands me mine. He leads me to the washroom. It’s huge and pristine and white of course. Baz gives me a fresh toothbrush, which is really thoughtful, because he’s really thoughtful. The vain bastard keeps hogging the mirror though. Once we’re done with our teeth, we go back to the bedroom and Baz takes out his posh red silk pyjamas. He tries to offer me a pair but I’m fine with an oversized t-shirt that looks totally unworn.
“That thing?” Baz says slightly disgusted. “I got that from the overeager poet’s society back at Oxford.”
Huh, makes sense. It does have a Byron joke on it. I shrug. “Eh, it’s fine. Kinda funny too.”
Baz waves dismissively. “Very well. You can keep it if you want. I’m not going to wear it.”
I pull at the hem. Well, if he’s offering, sure. It’s really comfy. And or some reason, I sort of like the idea of keeping this shirt. Keeping Baz’s clothes...it’s just sorta nice.
I flop down on the silk sheets and immediately sink into the comfy mattress. It’s like a goddamn smooth cloud. I’m already drifting off into dreamland when Baz lays next to me. He pulls the quilt over us. Distantly, I feel his long arm drape across my waist and his body curl around mine. His breath hits the back of my neck, almost immediately evening out in sleep. I instinctively snuggle closer, because he feels good. This whole night has felt good. Maybe I should just focus on that instead of the storm in my brain. Yeah, I’m fine with that.
———————————————-
I’m waiting for Baz at Goat while trying to do my readings. He meets me after class, then we have lunch and talk. We’ve been hanging out a lot more on campus the past three weeks, ever since I slept over. I do that a lot more too, actually. I go to his place at least once a week, usually more. Sometimes we just eat supper, maybe watch a movie, then fall asleep in Baz’s bed. Other times we use the bed for...other things.
I’m still straight though. That's still how I think of my self. I just also like this, whatever it is. It’s a sorta weird but awesome friends with benefits thing. I think. We haven’t really defined it. But whatever. We’re having fun. Who needs labels?
“Hello, love.” Baz’s hand is a comfortable weight on my shoulder. He bends around the back of the chair and kisses me. It’s just a short, sweet greeting kiss. He does this a lot now. I like it. I smile against his mouth.
“Hi,” I reply as he sits down across from me. “How was class?”
Baz stretches out his hand. “Well, my fingers hurt, so very good. How was your’s?”
I lift up my heavy textbook. “Professor Blowhard assigned extra readings again, of course. Does he realise we have lives outside of class?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t care, obviously. Because he's a dickhead.”
“Damn right. I need scones to feel better.”
Baz rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. Ebb already getting our food ready?”
“Ebb’s finished your food.” I jolt slightly. When did Ebb get here? Did she manifest out of thin air? She holds two plates with our usuals. A latte, sour cherry scone, and grilled cheese with tomato and spinach for me. (Baz suggested I try the last one, so Ebb made it, and it’s really good.) And a fancy turkey-pesto panini and pumpkin mocha breve for Baz.
Baz smiles up at her. He’s gotten very friendly with her. “Good day, Ebb. How’s it going?”
Ebb shrugs. “Pretty okay. I sort of want some new dishware but I’m not sure I have the funds for it.”
“Well, Christmas is coming up. Maybe I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ebb laughs and ruffles Baz’s already messy hair. She’s very friendly with him by now. “Aw, you don’t have to do that, Baz. Sweet of you to say though. He’s certainly a keeper, Si.”
She winks at me before sauntering off. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. I flick my eyes over to Baz. He’s taking a sip from his overly large coffee cup. When he lowers it, there’s whipped cream on the tip of his long nose. I snort and giggle. Baz’s brow furrows.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, actually genuinely concerned. He’s always very concerned about his appearance. It’s funny, and kind of cute.
I reach out and use one finger to swipe the whipped cream off. His nose scrunches like an adorable child. I hold it for him to see.
“You’re making a mess,” I tease, then lick my finger. Baz’s eye go wide, and he might blush. It’s hard to tell sometimes, what with his complexion and being emotional display repulsed British gentry. I’m not sure why though. I just don’t like wasting food.
“Christ, Simon,” he chuckles, shaking his head. His eyes flick up to mine and he smirks. That expression makes my stomach do a lot of funny things. “Like you’re one to talk about messes," he says. "My kitchen is still recovering from your pizza debacle.”
“It turned out to be good frozen pizza though.”
“Yes, at the sacrifice of a clean oven.”
I shrug, reaching my foot out to tap his for emphasis. “I’ll destroy my own next time, alright?”
He goes a step further, tracing the toe of his Oxford on my bare ankle. It makes me jolt, but in a good way. Baz seems to have that effect on me.
“Hm, y’know, I haven’t been to your place yet. Invite me over for oven destroying pizza sometime?” His voice is smooth as butter. It makes my legs feel weak, even though I’m already sitting down. And he’s right, he hasn’t been over yet. It’s not because of anything, his place has always just been easier. That should be corrected.
“Yeah, sure,” I chirp, “I’d like that. Though my flatmate might interrogate you. She still isn’t sure she approves of you.”
Baz shrugs dismissively. “Understood. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. She’ll warm up to me. I’m very likable.”
I scoff. “And full of yourself.”
He pushes his foot until it’s fully under my jean cuff. I yelp in surprise. “Got you to like me, didn’t I?”
Shit, why is my face so flushed? I try to use my book to cover it, but my eyes peek out over the top. Baz is still smirking, still slowly moving his shoe up and down my skin. It’s sort of hard to say no when he’s doing that. Bastard. “That’s true, I suppose,” I say shakily.
“Exactly.” He leans forward on the table, chin cradled in his palm. “Want to come over tonight? Fiona’s at Nicky’s again. Those two need to just move in together already.”
“Yeah, agreed. And I can come over as long as you help me revise for a midterm.”
“Very well,” he sighs dramatically. “If that’s the price I must pay for a good shag.”
And I thought my blush couldn’t get any worse. I use a hand to cover my bright red face. “Baz,” I giggle, “shut up.”
He chuckles and slowly peels my hand away. I’ve found his violin calluses feel weirdly wonderful on my skin. “I’ll help you, love, don’t worry.”
Fuck, he’s always so nice. Just so kind and helpful and fun to be around. He’s like Penny, I guess, but our dynamic doesn’t feel like me and Penny. Not better, just different. My heart and stomach don’t feel twisty around her. And I definitely don’t want to snog Pen silly. Baz is just different. Whatever we have is different. I don’t know what it is, but I like it. And I certainly don’t want to stop.
———————————————-
A week later, Baz is scheduled to come over. I’m trying to salvage my stupid homemade stupid pizza when there’s a knock at the door. I run over still wearing the apron and oven mitts as I open it. Baz is standing on the other side, gym/overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He blinks at me confused, eyes big behind his glasses. (He’s been wearing them more. That's good. He looks amazing, and he needs to see.)
“Hi,” I say breathlessly, kissing him hello by habit.
“Good evening, Snow,” he says. “Nice apron.”
I look down. Right, this is Pen’s “Snog the Chef” apron. Micah sent it to her as a joke. He made the false assumption she cooks enough to need one. Both of us usually cook from a box or order take away. I chuckle.
“Uh, yeah. Still trying to make supper. Come in, come in.”
I race back to the kitchen, leaving Baz in the living room. I can still see him through a small square space in the wall. (The previous tenant had a thing for cutting random holes in the wall.) He scans the room, taking in his surroundings.
“Hm,” he says thoughtfully. “Nice place.”
I laugh loudly so he can hear me. “You don’t have to be nice, y’know. I’m aware it’s gross. I tried to clean a bit.”
“I’m serious, it’s nice. Love all the Polaroid pictures. Is this blonde girl your roommate?”
“Uh, no, that’s Agatha. The other girl, Penelope, she’s my flatmate. We all went to high school together.”
“I see, that’s nice. You all look happy.”
I lean out the weird window hole. Baz is looking at the picture from the summer, when we all went to Agatha’s family beach house. I smile. That was a happy time.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Summer before final year. Can’t tell Agatha was about to break up with me a few weeks later, huh?”
It’s a joke, but I immediately regret it. Baz tenses up. Shit, that’s a serious topic, and I shouldn’t talk about Agatha like that.
“There’s no bad blood though,” I say quickly. “Like, it sucked when we split up but it was for the best in the end. We’re way better as friends. She lives in California now. She skypes me and Pen a lot, tells us all about America and shit. I sent her a British flag for Christmas last year, and she sent me a California one.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m babbling, sorry, I’ll stop.”
Baz turns his head. He’s smiling, no anger or disappointment, thank God. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. She sounds lovely. I’m not jealous. Unless I have a reason to be.”
His raised eyebrows and toothy grin tells me he’s joking. I chuckle. Why would he have a reason to be jealous anyway? I mean, Agatha’s pretty, but so is he. “No, you definitely have no reason. Maybe I’ll introduce you two sometime. You can compare expensive hair products.”
“Hey, you like my hair.”
“Yeah, but I’ve also seen how many bottles you have in your shower. And how many bottles did you bring with you tonight?”
Baz doesn’t answer. I snicker as I pull my pizza out of the oven. Well, it’s not much of a pizza anymore. Sort of a dough, cheese, and sauce liquid mess in a pan. I groan and lean my head on the cupboard over the oven.
“Trouble with supper, love?”
I look up. Baz is leaning in the window hole, arms crossed over the sill and head on his bent elbow. He looks nice like this, relaxed and all. Huh, he really is a lot less uptight than he was two months ago. That’s good, I suppose. I smile weakly.
“I think this pizza is even more of a disaster than the last one. And this time it’s completely inedible.”
He frowns sarcastically. “Aw, what a surprise.”
I take a mitt off and throw it at his stupid smug pretty face. “Fuck off, I tried!”
Baz doesn’t looked fazed by the glove projectile, just holding it as he smiles. “I know, darling, and you did your best. Now, shall I order take away?”
I sigh, shaking off the other mitt so they lay in a messy pile on the counter. “I guess so. But I’m paying for it. I was supposed to make you a nice supper, I should at least pay for the substitute.”
“Well, I certainly have no problem with that.”
I turn off the oven and take off the dumb apron. With heavy steps and hanging head, I go into the living room. Baz immediately reaches out and pulls me against him, hugging me close. I wrap my arms around his firm back, easily sinking into his embrace. He smells nice. Like cedar and bergamot, I think.
“Want to watch a movie?” he whispers, breath tickling my ear.
“Sure,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Do you like Pixar?”
He chuckles. It’s a really nice sound, washing over me like a warm, relaxing wave. “Yeah. Pixar is wonderful.”
We don’t move for a bit though. We just stay there, hugging in the middle of my living room. He’s a good hugger, so I don’t mind. I just close my eyes, breathe in his smell, and let his strong, firm arms hold me.
———————————————-
“Why does Buzz go still?” Baz asks. “He doesn’t think he’s a toy. Why would he pretend to be one when a person walks in?”
“Shhh.” I reach up to blindly hit his stupid smart arse mouth. “You’re ruining the movie.”
“I’m simply pointing out a flaw in the film’s plot.”
“Just shut up and watch, arsehole.”
Baz makes a displeased noise, but does thankfully shut up. Our half eaten take away pizza is still sitting on the coffee table. The sun has mostly set, the light of the telly the main source now. I’m junk food tired so I’ve ended up with my head in Baz’s lap. His legs are comfortable. And I like the way he strokes my hair. I could probably fall asleep like this if I wanted.
“Sorry again about supper,” I mumble into his thigh.
Baz hums softly, winding a finger around one of my curls. “It's fine, love. You made the effort, that's what counts. And I appreciate it.”
I hum, throwing an arm over his knees. “You’re nice.”
Bizarrely, he scoffs at that. “You’re the first person to say that, Snow. Most people say I’m rude and mean.”
“You're not, they're all wrong," I say immediately, almost angry for him.
He pauses for a moment, hand still in my hair. "You really think so?" he asks, voice slightly shaky.
"Yeah, of course. You tease me but you also made me supper and watched Doctor Who. That means a lot. You’re, like, snarky nice. Fuck, does that even make sense?”
Baz runs his thumb over the nape of my neck. “No, I get it. Thank you, darling, you’re incredibly sweet.” He brushes his long fingers against my ear. “Sometimes I wonder how I found you,” he sighs.
I chuckle, sound muffled by his trouser leg. “You ‘found me’ in a boring psych lecture, remember?”
“Yeah,” he whisper-laughs. “Glad I did though. Honestly...” He takes an audible breath, like he’s getting ready to jump off a cliff or something. “I think you’re the best thing to come out of moving to Watford.”
My mouth suddenly feels dry. And my heart is bruising my ribs it’s beating so hard. That was definitely one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. But it doesn’t feel like when Penny or Agatha or Mum are nice. It feels so...new. I wish there was a more eloquent word for it, for what I feel when he says something like that. It’s an all encompassing sensation I've never experienced before. Like a supernova in my brain and chest. I just can’t place it.
The end credit music starts playing. I turn my head back to the screen. “Oh hey, it’s done,” I say. “Wanna watch something else?”
I can’t see Baz’s face, but I feel him lean back against the sofa. “Sure. Anything in mind?”
“Actually, yeah, I've got something. You’ll like it.” I fumble for the remote, then start flipping through my Netflix list. I know it’s there... “Aha! This!” I highlight a movie I found yesterday. Baz leans forward with curiosity.
“A documentary on an Australian string quartet?” He chuckles. “Really?”
Shit, I thought he would like it because there are string instruments and stuff in it. But it’s not like every chef adores cooking shows. “S-Sorry, it was just an idea. We can watch something else.”
Baz puts an arm around my waist and squeezes my stomach tight. I immediately relax. “No, that wasn’t a discouragement. I’m very intrigued. I’m just surprised you’re offering to watch it. It’ll be quite dull for you.”
I shrug. “Eh, maybe. But you’ll like it, and I’m willing to try.”
Baz doesn’t answer. Well, not with words. His arm holds me even tighter, and he leans down to kiss my hair. His cool lips press lightly to my scalp. I can’t help the shudder it makes. When he pulls back, he goes back to to softly stroking my hair. I feel like I could melt into the couch.
“Put it on,” Baz sighs. “Try not to fall asleep, Snow.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say, meaning it genuinely.
So the movie is objectively boring for me, because I'm not a violin student, and I’m not a huge fan of documentaries period. But there are some good parts. I like the people, following their progression and lives and how their careers influence everything around them. Baz likes that too. Though he’s also fascinated by all the fancy instruments. I just think they’re all really pretty.
“Hey,” Baz asks, “where’s your flatmate?”
“Oh she’s-” The front door suddenly slams, making both of us jolt. A few footstep sounds later, Penny is standing right in front of us. “She’s right here. Hi, Pen.”
Penny is frozen. She blinks at us in complete silence for a few long seconds. I don’t know what’s so baffling. “Hi... What’s going on here?”
“Baz and I are watching a movie.” What’s going on with her? Pretty sure that was obvious.
She quirks an eyebrow. “So this is Baz?”
“Oh right.” I gesture to her. “Baz, this is Penelope Bunce.” I gesture to him. “Penny, this is Baz Grimm-Pitch.”
“Hello, Penelope," Baz says smoothly. "May I call you that?”
“Um, sure.”
“Wonderful. Pleasure to finally meet you.” He offers his hand like the gentleman he is.
Cautiously, Penny takes the handshake. “Same for me. Good to put a face to the name.”
“Likewise.”
Their hands fall. Penny has a weird expression on her face. Her eyes keep flicking between me and Baz, looking positively perplexed. I don’t get it. We’re just watching a movie. She said it was okay to bring Baz over, but it still must be weird for her to have someone new around. She doesn’t like new people. But Baz is going to be hanging around with me indefinitely, so they should probably get more comfortable with each other.
“Wanna watch and eat with us?” I ask. “Pizza is lukewarm but still good.”
She seems even more confused, head pulling back and mouth twisting for a moment. “Uh, sure, if that’s alright with both of you.” She looks pointedly at Baz.
“It’s perfectly fine with me. Snow’s the one taking up the entire sofa.”
I scoff and smack his knee. “Fuck off.” I swing my legs dramatically, putting myself upright. It makes my vision spin a bit, so I fall against Baz, head on his shoulder. I don’t think he minds though. “There, happy?”
He chuckles and throws an arm around me, pulling us even closer together. “Positively elated, Snow.” He presses a sloppy wet kiss to my cheek. I make a disgusted noise as I wipe it off.
“Arsehole.” I kiss his cheek too. Fair’s fair. I look up, and Penny’s eyes are incredibly wide. I gesture at her. “C’mon, Pen, there’s room now.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Alright then."
She sits down, but closer to the other end. Weird. I try to make more room, putting my legs over Baz’s, pressing against him. But she doesn’t move any closer. Actually, she moves further away. Weird, but I get wanting your own space. She is watching the movie intently though.
“This is good,” she says through her pizza. “That violin is incredible.”
“It’s called the Gibson ex-Huberman Stradivarius,” Baz interjects. “Made by Antonio Stradivari of Cremona in 1713. Many say his string instruments are the greatest ever made. He’s estimated to have made 960 violins, 650 of which are still around. What I wouldn’t give to play a Stradivarius.”
“Right," Penny chuckles. "Simon said you were a violinist.”
“Yup, he is,” I say. “Which makes him a total music nerd.”
Baz flicks my far ear then kisses the other. “Says the Doctor Who nerd. And not just music. I enjoy history and English language too.”
“Hey, so does Penny! She never shuts up about that book about working people.”
“‘The Making of The English Working Class’ by EP Thompson, Si,” Penny says with some exasperation. “It’s an interesting read.”
Baz makes a contemplative sound. He’s good at those. “I’ll have to look it up. Shall we compare notes sometime?”
Penny turns her head. She seems to be examining Baz over her spectacles, brown eyes moving up and down over him. She does that a lot, examines people, like me the first day we met all those years ago. She’s assessing him, figuring out whether he’s worth her time. She decided I was. I can only hope she likes him
“I’ll think about it,” she says.
I breathe out a small sigh of relief. They get along, thank God. Neither of them notice the sigh, but they do notice the loud yawn I can’t help afterwards.
“Tired, Snow?” Baz teases.
“No,” I grumble. I rub my aching eye, which doesn’t help my case.
Baz sighs, then shoves off my legs and stands over me, all tall and looming and handsome. He offers his hand. “Then let’s go to bed. I have an early class tomorrow anyway.”
“Okay.” I take his hand and he hoists me to my feet. I’m a bit wobbly, but Baz keeps me steady with an arm around my waist. Damn, I’m tired. “Can you put away the pizza, Pen? I’ll clean up the rest in the morning.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” she says absentmindedly, already flipping to her own show.
“G’night, Pen.”
“Night Si. And Baz.”
“Goodnight, Penelope. Lovely to meet you.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I sigh again, because she sounds genuine, and I don’t need two of my best friends feuding. There’s no need for unnecessary drama.
Baz and I wash up quickly. (He hogs the mirror again.) I throw on my usual baggy shirt and sweats. I assumed he brought his ridiculous posh silk pyjamas, but to my surprise he takes one of my Watford sweatshirts and a matching set of grey trackies. I look at him with utter amusement.
“Really?” I chuckle.
“I left my bag in the living room,” he says nonchalantly. “And I don’t feel like going to get it.” His pretty face become nervous for a moment, looking down at the hardwood floor. “Is it alright?”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” I curl my fingers in his elastic waistband, making him stumble closer. “You look good. You should wear my clothes more often.”
He chuckles, leaning down to capture my lips. I sigh and melt into it. Baz holds my face, slowly running his finger over my cheek. I encircle his waist. Warmth spreads from my mouth and through my entire body. Damn. No matter how brief or how long, how fast or slow, Baz's kisses are always pretty damn great.
He pulls back slightly, leaving the smallest space between us. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he whispers against my skin. “Come on, now. I’m tired and so are you. Let’s sleep.”
I yawn right on cue. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Baz pulls me towards the bed. He lays down first, putting his glasses on the nightstand, and I follow, head pillowed on his strong chest. His arms wrap around me tightly. I like when he does that. Baz always makes me feel better just by holding me. How the hell does that work? Why does he feel so unlike any friend I've had before? I don't know. And I don't care, so long as he just keeps holding me.
“Night,” I mumble.
“Night, love,” he sighs.
I drift off with his left hand in my hair, his right tracing circles on my back, and his heartbeat right under my ear.
———————————————-
“Snow? Snow. Simon.”
I groan at the voice disturbing the my sleep. A rough, callused hand shakes my arm. Of course I know who it is, so I don’t even open my eyes.
“What?” I grumble
“I have to go,” Baz whispers. “I’ve got class until seven. Lunch at Goat tomorrow?”
“M-hm.”
“And are you still staying at my place Friday?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you understand anything I just said?”
I roll over, bleary eyes opening slightly. The dawn light doesn’t hurt my eyes too much. Baz is a blur of black, reddish-gold, and grey.
“Goat tomorrow, your flat Friday,” I mumble. “Got it.”
There’s white in the blur now, what I assume are his teeth in a wide grin. He leans forward. “Wonderful. See you later, darling.”
“Bye, love.”
He presses a kiss to my hairline. Even half asleep, I can feel his cool lips on my forehead and the smell of all his fancy products waft up my nose. I listen as his shoes click out the door.
I think I fall asleep again, because when I wake up it’s a lot brighter outside. I groan at the burning sunlight and bring the sheet over my head. I don’t have class until two so I don’t have to get up just yet. I just lay in bed, trying to block out the day. And under those sheets, it hits me that I called Baz ‘love’ for the first time. Huh. Guess his use of cute nicknames is rubbing off on me. It’s new, but so is a lot of stuff we’re doing, and I’ve like it all so far. I think I like this too.
My stomach growls like an angry lion. Guess that’s my cue to get up. I throw off my sheet and immediately shiver. Fuck, it’s chilly. I look over and see that Baz left my sweatshirt folded on my dresser, so I slip it on. I press it to my nose. It still sort of smells like him, a gorgeous mix of his cologne and fancy products. That makes me smile like an idiot, for whatever reason.
I saunter into the kitchen. Penny doesn’t have any class, so she’s sitting at the dining room table with a bunch of textbooks spread out. It’s like the school library threw up on it. The coffee in the pot is old, but I don’t feel like making a new one. So I pour it out and put it in the microwave.
“That’s disgusting, Si,” Penny sing songs.
“Shut up, Pen,” I reply with my most chipper voice. The microwave beeps. I drink from the mug and promptly spit the whole thing out in the sink. Oh Christ, it is disgusting.
“Told you so.”
I glare at her through the kitchen wall hole as I pour the coffee out. I start setting up the kettle for tea instead. Screw coffee. Baz says tea is better for you anyway.
“So,” she says very matter of factly, staring at me through our lovely wall hole, “Baz.”
She doesn’t continue. Nothing to explain what the fuck she’s talking about. She just looks at me with narrow eyes while twirling a pencil in her hand. I blink at her, silence hanging between us, and still nothing.
“Yeah, Baz,” I chuckle.
“You like him?”
“Uh, yeah. He’s cool.”
“Is he nice?”
“Yeah. Well, sorta.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Sort of?”
I shrug, scratching the back of my neck. “He’s nice in the important ways, y’know? Helps me out when I need it and treats me well. But he also teases me. In fun though. I tease him too, and I try to be nice. I hope he thinks I’m nice too.”
The kettle whistles. I get out my Adventure Time mug and a peppermint tea bag. When I look back at Penny, she’s twisting her lips, brow furrowed together, pencil tapping on the table rhythmically. That’s her concerned friend look. She always looks like this when I make a major life decision, or when I attempt cooking.
“And, you’re happy, right?” she asks carefully.
I blink at her in confusion again. That’s a weird question. I’ve been depressed before, sure, but I haven’t lately. So I’m not sure why Penny is concerned with my emotional state. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She chuckles and her concerned look goes away. That’s a relief. I don’t like making Penny worried. “Alright then. As long as you’re happy.”
“Okay,” I chuckle, laughing at the absurdity of this.“Fun talk, Pen. Enjoy studying.”
“Will do. Get to class on time!”
I scoff, walking towards my room with lovely steaming tea in hand. “If I got to class on time, I wouldn’t be Simon Snow Salisbury.”
Penny sighs with exasperation. Now that’s a sound I’ve heard since high school. It’s become weirdly comforting in a way. Penny’s always going to be a bit frustrated with me, and she still loves me anyway.
———————————————-
“Simon, what are you doing this weekend?”
I look up from my fancy grilled cheese, mouth still full. Baz has finished his panini and is now in his “villain position” again. One long leg over the other, bony elbows propped on his armrests, fingers pressed together. It’s still half intimidating-half badass. I swallow my food. Don’t want to be rude with him.
“This weekend?” I ask. “Uh, nothing. I don’t have anything planned. Why?”
He drums his fingers together slowly. Total Bond villain. “Well, I have a proposition for something we could do.”
That makes me put down my food and shift in my chair. “Oh?”
“Yes.” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “You see, my parents wanted me to come home for the whole break next week. But I couldn’t do that with my practice schedule. I still want to see them though, so I’m driving up for family dinner on Sunday.”
“Okay...”
“And the thing is...” He drums his fingers on the wooden table and chews at his lip. “I’ve mentioned you to them, and they’re wondering if you’d like to come up with me.”
I nearly drop my sandwich. I stare at Baz silently for an inappropriate amount of time. “Your parents," I say cautiously, "want me to come over for dinner?”
He nods slowly, face pinched together in nervousness. “Yes. They’re both eager to meet you, though they may not show it outwardly. But please, love, don’t feel pressured. I told them it might be too soon for this but they can be...insistent. It’s completely up to you though. They’ll survive if you say no.” He rubs his nose under his glasses. “Sorry, this is just a whole mess. I thought about not asking but I wanted to give you the choice.”
“O-Okay.” I nod, like a very slow moving bobble head. Wow, this is just a lot. I haven’t met a friend’s parents since Agatha. And we were dating, which made it very scary. This seems even scarier though. My heart is pulsing too fast. Fuck, why does this feel so intimidating?
Baz grabs my hand, thumb tracing the back of it. It immediately calms me down. “Don’t panic, love, no matter what decision you make I’ll understand. It’s not like we’ll stop speaking if you don’t come to dinner with my pushy, posh parents.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s up to you, love.”
Right, up to me... Fuck. Do I want to meet Baz’s posh family? Even though it’s scary? I mean, I guess it would be nice. They’re probably smart like Baz, cultured too, all that. It sounds intimidating, and it was with Baz at first, but I learned. And maybe I can learn with his family too. I'd like to know more about Baz, be part of another aspect of his life. That's what friends do, right?
“Okay,” I say, “I’d like to come.”
Baz’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth falling open slightly. “Really?”
“Yeah. It sounds fun, and I’d like to meet your parents. If they’re anything like you, they’ll be posh, really smart, and weirdly nice.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Well, that’s one way to see them.”
I giggle too, leaning closer to him over the the small table. “Okay, good to know. Anything I should bring?”
“Well, Sunday nights are our ‘fancy dinners’, so we dress up. You’ll have to wear a suit.”
I frown. “I don’t own a suit.”
He nods like some thoughtful scholar. “Hm, alright. Well, I’ve got one you could borrow. Is that alright?”
“Sure. If it fits me, Mr. Tall and Lanky.” I poke his muscular shoulder for emphasis, making him laugh.
“You’re not that much shorter than me, don’t worry. So we’ll go up Sunday afternoon and leave Monday morning. I’ll certainly be drinking, so I don’t want to drive home the night of.”
“Very responsible, love, very responsible.”
Baz chuckles softly, and I do too. He looks me in the eye. All I see is kindness. Who the hell ever said he was an arsehole? He’s actually incredible.
“You sure you’re alright with this?” he asks, his voice still concerned.
I adjust our hands, so we’re smooth palm to scratchy palm, and smile as big as I can. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Baz smiles back. Not as big, but it’s still kind and calm. He leans forward and kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Wonderful. Can’t wait.”
And weirdly enough, neither can I.
———————————————-
AN: So the documentary is real and called "Highly Strung", and the book Penny mentions is real too. Hope you all liked this. I like writing this fluffy definitely-not-a-relationship haha. Tomorrow, "adventure" :)
Summary: Simon and Baz have some time before exams start. They decide to go on a date before the storm begins.
Read on AO3
AN: Okay okay omg two amazing people made fan art of this fic and I'm so happy and grateful. There's this fantastic piece of my punk Baz by @neck-mole and this wonderful art of my pastel and punk beauties by @jessethejoyful. I love them so much and I'm still freaking out about it so thank you to those two again. Now onto the chapter. It's more fluff cause my boys need it tbh. Also I posted this to the wrong blog for like 30 seconds because I’m an idiot sorry!
Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @jeansjeansjeansjeans
———————————————-
“You and your boyfriend are gross.”
I plant myself on the picnic table with a thunk, giving Niall a curious look. “And good afternoon to you too, mate.”
“I’m serious,” he says, arms crossed. “You two are disgusting.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Huh, didn’t peg you for a homophobe, Niall.”
Niall rolls his eyes and shoves my leg. “Fuck off, you know that’s not what I mean. You two are snogging everywhere all the time. Didn’t you just get caught in the gym closet yesterday?
That’s unfortunately true. We did get caught, with Simon’s legs around my waist and my hand up his shirt. Coach Mac was certainly not amused. He made us reorganize said closet as punishment. It was totally worth it though.
After our talk last week, I assumed Simon and I wouldn't be around each other as much, no longer afraid that our relationship would end abruptly. But it’s the exact opposite. We sneak off between classes, after school if I’m not with Bunce, at night if we both can’t sleep. He’d be here right now hanging with my friends if he didn’t have a makeup chem lab to do with Bunce. I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s something about our promises, the trust we gave each other. Confessing our fears and understanding them.
Or maybe we’re horny teenagers who like to snog and cuddle. That would also make sense.
“He’s my first boyfriend, give me a break.” I snatch Dev’s cigarette carton and take a stick out for myself. “And I might not see him again for a year if exams go badly.”
“We get it, man,” Dev says. “And we’re happy for you. But you’re also snogging 24/7 and it’s gross.”
I take a deep drag and grin. “Yup.”
Niall sighs and leans back, his stupid aviators slipping down his face. (He thinks they’re cool. And I hate that he’s right.) “Whatever, fine. Be gross. But I have some questions for you.” He points his cigarette at me very dramatically.
“Okay...”
“One: if you go to Switzerland, how the hell are we going to contact you?”
“Simon said he’d mail me. You know, snail mail. You two can do that as well.”
“Good. Two: Are you going to come home for the holidays?”
“Probably not. Only if I behave maybe.”
“That sucks. And three: can I have your bike while you’re gone?”
I blow smoke in his face. He coughs, Dev laughs loudly. “No, you git. My beloved motorcycle will be stored in Simon’s garage so my father can’t dispose of it while I’m away.”
Niall groans pathetically. “That’s not fair. I’ve wanted that thing for ages and now I don’t even get it if you’re gone? Rude.”
“You’ll crash it.”
“Will not.”
“Will to. Simon is scared to ride it without me, so I know he’ll just leave it alone. Unlike you.”
Niall pouts, crossing his arms. “You and your stupid responsible boyfriend.” He lowers his sunglasses and gives me a curious look. “Have you two horny idiots even been on a proper date yet? Or are you just defiling everywhere you go?”
I open my mouth to protest, but quickly have to shut it. With all the excitement and exam cramming and sneaking around, we haven’t remembered to do something so simple as a date. That is a grave injustice. And I must correct it.
I pull out my mobile and open Simon’s contact in my phone. He’s still listed as “Pretty Moron”. I’ve refused to change it even since we’ve started dating.
Baz [12:36]
Hey wanna going on a date after school? If so, meet me outside the north entrance.
Pretty Moron [12:37]
ok sure this is kinda out of the blue luv
Baz [12:38]
Do I need an excuse to want to go on a date with my boyfriend?
Pretty Moron [12:38]
no it’s just odd and spontaneous
Pretty Moron [12:38]
i like it tho
Pretty Moron [12:39]
i’ll meet you then <3
Baz [12:40]
See you then. Now go back to your chem lab idiot.
Simon doesn't reply, thankfully. He needs to pass his classes as well. This is perfect actually. Exams start tomorrow. Simon and I can have a good time before mentally dying. I lean back, eyes closed and smiling.
“Ugh he looks all lovesick again,” Niall groans. “Gross.”
I kick his shoulder, nearly knocking him off the bench. Dev snorts.
“Careful, Niall,” Dev says, “he’ll tease you just as much when you get a girlfriend.”
"If he gets a girlfriend,” I say flatly.
Niall punches my feet. Dev roars with laughter. Fuck, I’m going to miss these two if I leave. I wish I’d put my pride aside earlier, and given myself a better chance of staying. I only hope it will work out now.
———————————————-
Simon saunters out of the north school entrance with his typical sunshine grin. He’s wearing floral shorts, mismatched floral shirt, a rosebud bracelet, and his checkered Vans because he has no regard for fashion norms whatsoever. It's amazing. Bunce is by his side, holding her heavy textbooks. When Simon spots me, he runs up and wraps his arms around my shoulders, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.
“Hi, darling,” he purrs.
“Hello, love,” I reply hushed.
Bunce promptly ruins the mood by fake retching onto the sidewalk. I roll my eyes. Simon chuckles. “Thanks, Pen.”
“I can’t believe I agreed to help Basilton just so you two could be gross for longer.”
I shrug. “Well, I certainly do appreciate the help. Thank you, Bunce.”
“Aw,” she drawls sarcastically. “You’re going to make me actually sick up.”
Simon sticks his tongue out and holds onto me tighter. “You think he’s going to ace his exams tomorrow, Pen?”
“If he follows my brilliant teaching? Yes.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say genuinely. Because I will, no doubt. Because I have too much to lose if I don’t. Bunce notices, observant as she is, nodding with a genuinely kind expression.
“So,” Simon says, “are we off to our date now?”
I grin wolfishly, excitement brewing in my gut. “As soon as you get on my bike, yes.”
Bunce sighs, already turning on her heels. “Bye, arseholes. Don’t defile too many places, please.”
Simon shrugs. I flip her off. He swings his legs over the back of my bike and wraps his arms around my middle automatically. Two engine revs, and we’re off.
Originally, I thought about taking him to Mount Olympus. But that’s too predictable. Simon and I need more than one place to call our’s. So we don’t head north towards my neighbourhood, but west, towards the Wavering Wood.
It’s another secluded area in town, surrounded by willow trees and thick brush. Most people avoid it. But I know of somewhere perfect for us. With some brilliant manoeuvring and and careful driving by me, we end up in a small clearing by a pond. The grass is soft and flat. Willow trees give us just enough shade to be comfortable. The water sparkles in the sunlight like something out of a dream.
“Wow,” Simon gasps, “this is gorgeous.”
“Our little town is full of surprises. And,” I pull out a large plastic bag from my knapsack, “so am I.”
I bring out the plastic tablecloth first. It’s white and red checkered, like something out of the fifties. Then I take out the roast beef sandwiches and sour cherry scones. Cousin Pritchard was more than happy to give me some fresh ones for free. Simon’s eyes light up beautifully at those. I spread out my arms with flourish.
“Ta-da,” I announce.
“A picnic by the water?” Simon giggles. “Really?”
“I’m feeling romantic. Sue me.”
He quickly plops himself down cross legged on the crinkly plastic. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Especially if there’s food.” He opens the takeaway container, grinning at the roast beef. “When did you get all this? At lunch?”
I sit down too, stretching out to lounge next to him. “No, free period at the end of the day. I broke many speed limits getting all of it.”
“Baz! You’re supposed to study during free periods!”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Simon, exams start tomorrow and I’ve been studying intensely for three weeks. If I’m not ready, then neither Bunce or I are as smart as we think we are.” Simon still looks concerned. I reach out and grab his hand, running my thumb over the back of it. “I’ll be alright, love. Trust me.”
His expression finally breaks, a corner of his lip pulled up. He stretches out next to me, not letting go of my hand. “Okay.”
Simon digs into his food. I laugh at all the crumbs around his mouth. Part of me wants to kiss or lick them off, but I settle for just brushing them. Simon giggles and blushes, making my heart soar. He goes after the scones almost immediately after finishing his sandwich. Of course he inhales them like a vacuum cleaner.
“Leave some for me, Salisbury,” I grumble.
“Fine,” he groans, handing me a pastry.
“Sorry I’m not letting you eat all of the sugary treats, love. I know it’s a sacrifice.”
He glares, but the weight of it is lessened by his bulging chipmunk cheeks filled with crumbly pastry. I just keep smiling as I bite my singular scone.
Once we’re done, I end up on my back with my eyes closed, Simon half resting on my chest. He uses an index finger to slowly run over my collarbone. I trace circles in the small of his back. His strong chin digs into me slightly, but I’m fine. Really, I’m fantastic. I’ve sitting by a pond, resting in willow tree shade, all with a gorgeous boy pressed against me. This might be heaven. But I wish Simon seemed to feel the same.
“Simon,” I sigh, “stop looking at me like that.”
I can practically hear Simon frown in confusion. He knows I can’t see him, but I’m incredibly perceptive. I can feel it. “Like what?”
“Like I’m going to disappear the second you close your eyes. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere just yet.”
“O-Oh.” He lowers his head, putting his arms around my middle and his cheek over my heart. “Sorry.”
I sigh, petting his hair. “It’s alright, love, I understand. Everything starts tomorrow. Just...” I wrap both my arms around, trying to get him even closer. “Just don’t start letting me go until I’m actually gone.”
Simon growls slightly, like a defensive animal. He scoots up and buries his face in my shoulder. His grip on my waist tightens. I can feel his every huffy hot breath.
“I’m not letting you go ever,” he whispers harashly. “I promise.”
I chuckle, amused by his affection and determination. “I know, love. Me neither, and I’m going to fight like hell to stay. I promise.”
He starts moving around. I can’t see what he’s doing from my angle. Suddenly, Simon is lifting up my hand and putting something around it.
“Simon, what are you-”
“It’s for good luck,” he blurts. “For tomorrow.”
I lift up my wrist. It’s a rosebud bracelet like the one he's wearing. But strangely, the flowers are black instead of pink. It looks handmade. The roses are meticulously hand coloured, each flower obviously glued on one by one. I strain my neck down to kiss the top of Simon’s soft hair. He squeezes my sides
“Thank you, love,” I whisper.
Simon hums in approval. I fall back and look back out the sky. We go quiet again, and I bask in the moment. This perfect moment just before the storm really starts. With Simon against me, my fingers in his hair, him breathing softly, gripping my shirt, and everything calm around us.
For a long while I thought I wanted to burn the whole world down. But now, I think I could be content just staying here forever.
———————————————-
Watford is looming over me even more than usual. I feel like the whole building is going to lean down and fucking eat me. Students walk in without noticing me. Most look like they’ve been hit by a bus, with messy hair, baggy eyes, and piles of loose notes in hand. I try to look calm, but my hand is fiddling like mad, spinning Simon’s bracelet over and over. The smooth glide of it is comforting. I try to focus on that. Until something crashes into me so hard I nearly fall over.
“Fuck!” I wheeze.
Suddenly, a familiar freckled face pops in front of me. “Hi.”
“Bloody hell, Simon,” I breathe out harshly. “You scared me, arsehole.”
“Sorry,” he chuckles, absolutely not sorry at all. He’s wearing his rose flower crown again. He does tend to wear it when he’s excited. “You seemed really deep in thought, love.”
I sigh, running a nervous hand over my hair. “Just, this is it. Whatever I do starting now decides my fate. Ugh, Christ, that’s so over dramatic.”
“It’s fine, I understand. And don’t worry.” He reaches down to squeeze my hand, the one with the bracelet on, his matching one right next to it. “You’re going to do great.”
“You better! Or I’m going to have to deal with a very weepy Simon.”
Penelope Bunce saunters her way up to us, pushing her glasses up her nose. Simon grins and throws his arm around her shoulders. “Well, if you taught him well, then we all should be fine, right?”
“Teaching can only get you so far depending on the person.” She flashes me a smug as all hell look, and if Simon wasn’t in my way, I swear I’d kick her. But that smug smile soon becomes genuine, and to my utter surprise, she walks in front of me, stands on her toes, and ruffles my hair. What the hell?
“Good luck, Baz,” she says. “You might not want it, but I’ll give it anyway.”
Huh, not what I was expecting. But I certainly appreciate the sentiment. I nod. “Thank you.”
She nods in reply, then turns to walk into the school. Simon and I are the only ones left outside. I feel him lean against me, his arm perfectly lined up with mine.
“Good luck,” he whispers. “I don’t think you need it, but I want to say it.”
I kiss the top of his head. “Thank you, love. Good luck to you too.”
In a split second, before I can register what happens, Simon reaches up, turns my head, and kisses me. It’s insistent and passionate. He’s obviously holding nothing back, so I don’t either. I put hands on his hips and pull him against me. Simon’s arms wrap fully around my neck, pressing us together even more. If I could, I'd never let go.
But we do have to pull apart eventually, though our faces stay close. I keep my eyes closed and lean my forehead against his. He breathes heavily. The smell of cherries tickles my nose.
“Good luck,” he whispers.
“You already said that,” I reply. He smacks my head lightly.
“Shut up.”
“Nope. If I do well, you’re going to be stuck with me and my smart mouth.”
He pulls back, letting his arms fall down until we’re holding hands. “Yeah, I know. So go ace those goddamn tests.”
I start walking us towards Watford, fingers laced together, so tight and unwilling to part. “As you wish, love.”
———————————————-
AN: I know this chapter may feel like filler but I wanted it really badly. Baz needed to settle shit with his friends of course. And Simon and Baz need some normalcy through all this craziness. Like, I wanted them to have a calm moment before exams. I also felt like I needed to show them being normal. Just them go on normal dates with no snogging and being happy together. Sorta shows they could continue after this insanity and excitement, hm? Hope that got across. This is probably unnecessary but I always feel the need to explain my writing. Thank you for reading! And thank you again to the amazing fan artists! :D
Summary: Baz goes to Simon's house to work on the project.
Read on AO3
AN: So as some of you may know/remember, I work at an amusement park. I was supposed to work today but it's literally raining all day so the park is most certainly closed. Which means I can post early! Hooray! This is personally one of my favourite chapters. I enjoyed writing it quite a bit, though I had trouble writing Baz's emotions. The boy is a weird self destructive mess and it's difficult getting that across lol. Finally, we learn a bit more about Simon. Plus some fluff, of course. Hope you all like it!
Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @lunar-lover394
———————————————-
“Where are you going?”
I lazily turn towards Mordelia. She’s standing next to me with her arms behind her back, rocking on her heels. The picture of an adorable, unassuming child. You can hardly tell she's a brat.
“Out,” I reply.
“Mum says you go out too much.”
I do feel a bit bad about that. Daphne does legitimately care about my well being. “Well, you can tell her I’m not going out drinking. She can stop worrying.”
“Drinking what?”
I sigh. Right, she is still seven years old. “Nevermind. I’m just going to do schoolwork at someone’s house. I might be home for supper or not, I don’t know.”
“Okay. When can I ride on your motorbike?”
I smirk and buckle up my helmet. “Let's wait until you can reach the pedals. Then we’ll talk.”
Mordelia pouts pathetically. I ruffle her hair, which only makes her pout become an impressive scowl. I flip down my visor with flare and rev my engine. I give Mordelia a salute before driving off down the country road.
Simon’s house isn’t that far from mine, actually. Maybe a twenty minute ride, the way I break the speeding laws. I zip down the hill at ludicrous speeds, and keep that pace up across the country roads until they become moderately paved. Soon I’m on the sparse outskirts of Watford Cove, not the bloody fucking wilderness like mine. A much nicer place to live in my opinion.
Only a few minutes in, I arrive at the address Simon texted me. The house is actually quite posh. It’s not the terrible extravagance of the Pitch mansion of course, but it’s nice. Red brick, white shutters, some fancy curtains. There's a silver mailbox at the end of the drive with "Salisbury" painted on it in annoyingly bright green letters. The handwriting looks childish, as in a child probably wrote it. The initials "LS" are under the words like an artist's signature. Hm, interesting.
I park my bike in the driveway then make my way to the oak door. The doorbell chimes deep and loud. There’s some steps and soon it swings open. Oh. This is...not Simon. Because Simon is not an older greying-blonde woman.
This woman reminds me of portraits my own grandmother. She was also tall, straight backed, and respectful looking. But my grandmother never showed an ounce of happiness. This woman has a very kind smile on her face though, her wrinkles more from the expression rather than age.
“Hello,” she says kindly. “May I help you?”
“Um, I’m here to see Simon.”
Both her blue eyes and smile widen. “Oh right, Simon said you were coming. Simon! Your friend is here!”
There’s a crashing sound, like someone falling on the ground. Rapid steps come down the stairs until a beaming Simon jumps to the bottom.
“Hi Baz,” he says breathlessly. “Glad you found it.”
“I have Google Maps, Salisbury,” I deadpan, but with a smirk.
“Oh yeah, right, let’s go.” He motions for me to follow him inside. I nod to the woman. She looks up towards the stairs, hands on her hips.
“Simon,” she says with mock accusation, “are you not going to introduce me to your friend?”
Simon freezes halfway up the steps and whips his head around. “Oh right! Sorry, Gran. Um, Gran, this is Baz. Baz, this is my grandmother, Ruth Salisbury.”
I reach out my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Salisbury.”
Her brows rise up in surprise. I suppose she didn’t expect politeness from a guy wearing a black Ramones shirt, leather jacket, and ear piercings. But she still takes my hand. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Baz. You two have fun.”
Simon scoffs. “It’s school, Gran. We’re not supposed to have fun.”
“School can be fun if you try, darling. Maths has made me very good at cards.”
“And you fleece Mrs. Jones every week at your games, I know. We gotta go.”
“Yes yes, go do your schoolwork. Don’t break anything.”
Simon and Ms. Salisbury smile good naturedly at each other as we go upstairs. He runs at a breakneck pace, nearly tripping over the green carpet. I follow more slowly, looking over the walls. Unlike my house, there are many personalised things. Landscape art, funny knick knacks, and some pictures. There’s one of Ms. Salisbury with an older man, who I assume to be her husband. Next to that, there’s the couple again but in their younger years. A boy and girl stand in the foreground, both as blonde as Ms. Salisbury. The last one at the top of the stairs is obviously the two kids as teenagers, grinning with arms around each other. The woman looks weirdly familiar. Her freckles, they remind me of...stars.
“Baz, c’mon!” Simon yells.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming. You’re quite bossy today, darling,” I say teasingly. I hear his gasp, then fall into a coughing fit.
“I-I just want to start working.” His voice is still a bit hoarse.
“Alright.”
I saunter down to the hall Simon went down. I step into his room, and...well, I’m not sure what else I expected. The bed and desk look old, but everything else is new. The floral blanket, the multicoloured rug, the IKEA shelf filled with comics, all quite fresh. The walls are bright blue and covered in posters. Troye Sivan, Lana del Ray, Hayley Kiyoko, and assorted pastel coloured art. Equally pastel clothes are spread out across the floor. The whole room is so...bright. It sort of hurts my eyes. I’d prefer everything a bit darker. I guess I like Simon’s colour palette in small doses, just not all in one room.
I look up. Simon’s at his desk. I finally notice that he’s wearing a new shirt. It’s like the sunflower one, but pink and with bright red rosebuds instead. It works with the copper undertones of his hair. He looks perfect in it.
“Pretty,” I whisper.
“What?” Simon asks sweetly.
Fuck, I hope my face isn’t as red as his shirt right now. “Um, nothing.”
He looks confused for only a moment then shrugs. “Okay. I woke up late and forgot breakfast, so I'm starving. Want some of this? For brain food and stuff.” He holds up a mint aero bar. My smile is instantaneous.
“Sure. Mint aeros are my favourite.”
He grins to his ears. “Mine too!
I sit in the chair next to him. He breaks off a large piece for me. We eat the chocolate at the same time, but Simon gets some around his mouth. (Of course he's a messy eater.) I want to slowly lick it off his cheek then kiss him so hard we run out of breath. I quickly look away to resist temptation. “So, you got the project up?”
“Oh yeah!” He turns back to his laptop. I see that the desk is covered in scribbly note paper, candy wrappers, and nail polish bottles. He’s got almost every colour in his preferred pastel shade. He’s actually wearing the pink one right now. It matches his shirt. I have to keep myself from making an out loud comment again.
“So I’ve started making the powerpoint,” Simon says, bringing up the application. “And I think we should start with Watership Down. The actual place. Cause it’s like, the most important setting right?”
I bite my tongue, because I...disagree. Strongly. Watership Down should be in the middle, because it is the end of their first journey and the beginning of the next. It’s important to illustrate that, I think. But he doesn’t know I would think that.
“Sure, cool,” I mutter.
“O-Okay. Then, uh, for characters, we should start with General Woundwort.”
Wrong, very wrong. He’s important, sure, but others should be discussed first. Maybe Hazel, Bigwig, or Fiver. Fuck, Bluebell should come before Woundwort.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” I hope there isn’t a strain in my voice.
“Awesome! And I thought for analysis, we could talk about the archetypes and shit.”
No! Archetypes are Jungian! We’re supposed to do Freudian! Oh, fuck it.
“Give me that,” I hiss, snatching the laptop away. Simon blinks at me confused. I type furiously, barely thinking really, just spouting out the knowledge I have onto the slides. Some of the stuff is very smart but not well put, so I redo the wording. Not good with words, just like Simon said. I don’t know how long it takes, but when I’m done, I put the laptop back on the desk with my arms crossed.
“There,” I say curtly.
Simon looks through it, jaw falling open wider and wider with every slide. I shift away. Christ, this is embarrassing.
“Holy shit,” Simon whispers. I wait for him to start laughing, or yelling because I change his work. But he just turns to me with big awe filled eyes. “You’re...really smart.”
My cheeks must be as red as tomatoes now. I scoff and look at the Hayley Kiyoko poster. “Yeah, whatever.”
“No, no, I mean it, Baz. This is bloody brilliant! You’re super smart!” His brow furrows. “Why do you never show up to class? You could be getting As in like, everything.”
I press my lips together, digging my nails into my bicep. “I don’t care about school or grades. That’s all.”
“Really? You just, don’t care?”
“No, I don’t.”
Simon sighs, and I hate how close to pity it sounds. I don’t need his pity or anyone else’s. I made my choice a long time ago, and I don’t regret it. Well, I mostly don’t regret it. Certainly don’t regret because of where I’m going when term is done. Not at all...
“So, uh,” Simon says rapidly, obviously trying to break the forming tension, “I'm also mostly done the drawings. I’ll scan them later and put them in the presentation if you like them.”
He pulls out a sketchbook from his desk and flips through the pages. He shoves it in my face once he’s found the right one, making me jolt back in my chair. I snatch it from him.
“Christ, Salisbury, let me actually look,” I chuckle.
“Oh, sorry, sorry.”
I look at the picture, and it’s my turn to be awestruck. It’s...amazing. Rough, raw, a bit messy, but amazing. He’s captured Watership Down in just pencil. Sure, it’s just a hill, but Simon has drawn it from the perspective of the rabbits, so it looks looming and majestic. There are little shapes at the top, and I realise it’s a few of the rabbits looking out into the distance. A cute and perfect addition.
“Wow, this is incredible,” I say with absolute reverence.
Simon blinks at me. He seems genuinely surprised. “R-Really?”
“Yes. You’re very talented, Simon.”
“Oh, uh, well, thanks. I’m...really glad you think so.” He fiddles with his fingers nervously. “There’s a-a couple more if you want to see them. Three pages after.”
I flip through a few more pages. There are a lot of rough, abstract sketches. They look more like feelings than specific things. Waves of smoke, angry scribbles of pencil, over and over. He must do that a lot. Eventually, I land on what I think I'm supposed to see. It's obviously Fiver, based on the photo he showed me. But it's not an exact replica. It's a gorgeous interpretation. He's emphasized Fiver's large, sad, all knowing eyes. You can almost see everything terrifying and wonderful happening in them. To say I’m impressed doesn’t really cover it.
I go to the next page, and I immediately recognise it as a scene from the animated movie. When El Ahrairah, the first rabbit, was given physical gifts to survive predators from their fictitious god Frith. This one is in colour, and somehow even more stylised than the movie. El Ahrairah himself is a deep rich brown with grey loops, the sun is swirl of orange and yellow, and the sky is ripples of vibrant blue. The same colour as his eyes.
“These,” I say, “are perfect, Simon.”
Simon chuckles nervously, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m glad you think so. Think Miss Possibelf will approve?”
“If she doesn’t, she’s completely incompetent. And I don’t think that’s true.” I absentmindedly turn to the next page. It’s the start of another unfinished drawing. It’s of someone’s face. Someone with sharp cheekbones and dark wavy hair. Wait, is that-
Simon snatches the book and quickly flips it closed. He hides half his scarlet face behind the leather cover for a long moment, until he nervously coughs and lowers it. “Okay, good,” he stutters. “Glad you think so. I, uh, guess we’re done now. Man, we really could just do most of this over text.” Mother of God, must he keep doing that hair tuck? It’s torture.
“I suppose that's true," I chuckle.
"Wanna hang out?" He asks very quickly, gripping his sketchbook with ghost white knuckles.
I shouldn't. Fuck, I really shouldn't. I should go home, avoid him, keep my toxic self far away from Simon. But fucking hell, I'm weak for this boy, and just weak in general.
"Sure." My voice stays impressively neutral. "Any ideas?"
Simon twists his lips, looking around the brightly coloured room. His eyes drift down to my hands and he smiles mischievously. “I could redo your nails.”
I look down at my hands. Well, my nails are definitely chipped. I forgot to repaint them a few days ago. I look back at him with a raised brow. “I doubt you have a bottle of my ‘Chanel Le Vernis in Gris Obscur’, Salisbury.”
“Nah, definitely no Chanel. But I got some pretty good stuff from the drugstore.” He lifts up some obviously cheap but pretty nail varnish bottles. They’re all his pastels colours though.
“Not really my style.”
He shrugs. “Maybe you’d like to try something new?”
I bite the corner of my mouth. The colours hurt my eyes a bit. But he looks so adorable with that hopeful grin and glint in his eyes. I sigh, and put my left hand out. “Very well. I want your darkest shade though.”
Simon literally bounces with excitement. “Awesome! So, uh, how about...” He messes around with the bottles, almost dropping a few. Eventually he settles on a pale blue. “This one, and,” he holds up a unused looking dark grey, “this one? We can alternate.”
“Hm, sure. That grey doesn’t really match your style, though.”
He shrugs. “Eh, came with the set. Glad it did. It, uh, matches your eyes.” He looks pointedly at the desk instead of my face. That’s good though. I don’t want him to see the blush that’s spread across my cheeks. “Now gimme your right hand.”
I do as he says, placing it on the desk. He puts down some paper towel then pick up his nail polish remover and cotton balls. I have the exact same supplies at home. He reaches towards my hand, but quickly hesitates. He’s shaking actually. I can’t blame him. Every time we’ve touched, it’s been accidental or very quickly. This is different. This isn't a shoulder pat or playful shove. This is long and sustained and purposeful. And I may not be showing it, but I’m just as nervous.
“I can take it off myself,” I say quickly, reaching for the bottle. But Simon pulls it away.
“No no, I’m good. Just sit there and look...badass, alright?”
My lip twitches up. He’s so sweet. I leave my hand where it is. “Very well.”
Slowly, shakily, he slips his finger under mine. His skin is callused but still much smoother than my rough palms. It feels weird, but very nice. Almost electric. He dabs the cotton ball on the nail, rubbing off all my high end black nail polish. Huh, they look odd. it’s been awhile since my nails have been clean. After wiping them dry, he starts on with the blue. It’s a nice colour. Not something I would pick, but I can see the appeal. Simon drags the brush against my nail slowly but surely, making sure the coat is even.
“Hm,” I say, “you’re good at this.”
“Thanks,” he chuckles. “Self taught. A lot of trial and error, y’know? Took me ages to figure out how to do my right hand.”
“I learned from YouTube videos. Those makeup gurus know their shit.”
“Huh, smart. Oh, y’know what.” He stops painting and spins in his chair. Even with his back to me, I now he’s fiddling with his phone. Suddenly, the honeyed voice of Lana Del Rey is resonating through the room. He spins back with a grin.
“Your weird music is necessary?” I raise an eyebrow for sarcastic emphasis. Simon chuckles.
“Yeah, helps me concentrate. And it’s part of my continuing effort to convert you to good music.”
“Oh, is that your grand mission?”
“Yup! Slowly pull you away from all those screamy boys with bad haircuts and towards the beauty of Troye and Lana.”
I scoff. “You keep trying that, darling.”
He gives me a shy but sort of playful look from under his long eyelashes. “I certainly will...darling.”
Oh shit. I hope my complexion hides my blush enough. I smile back and try to look calm, hiding the storm in my chest.
We switch between chatting and companionable silence. Though Simon is never truly quiet. He hums along with the song, or makes noises of contemplation and frustration while trying to get my nails right. His hands slowly get less shaky, which helps. When we’re not talking, I take the opportunity to just watch his expression. How he sticks his tongue out in concentration, and his brow pulls together, and his face adorable pinches together when he gets something wrong. He always tries his best to fix it though, even with his clumsy fingers. It’s really sweet. Just like him.
I'm so unbelievably fucked.
“And...there!” He pulls back with a flourish. “Topcoat and everything. What do you think?”
I examine my hands. Huh, the blue is actually nice on me. And he’s right, the grey matches my eyes. It’s very well done. Maybe black isn’t the only colour I should use. I look up. Simon is staring at me wide eyed, chewing on his lip, leg jittering.
“It’s wonderful,” I say. “You did a marvelous job, Salisbury. Maybe you have a future as a nail artist.”
His nervous expression breaks, thankfully. I’ve found I prefer his grin to his genuine agitation. Blushing smile? Adorable. Wide eyed leg jittering? Not so much. “T-Thanks. Maybe...you could do mine sometime?”
Our eyes meet, and there’s no deception there. He’s always so genuine. It’s amazing. “Sure," I say before thinking. "If you can learn to like black.”
She shrugs. “Well, if you can learn to like blue, I guess I can try black.”
He grins, and I grin back. There’s a stretch of silence. It builds between us, making the air thicker and thicker. I’m torn between what I want to say and what I should. That I want more from this, more than just winks and smiles and “darlings”. But I know it can’t work. Simon should know that. I should tell him, all of it. But...he'll hate me. For not telling him about Switzerland, for using him like a plaything, for being an utterly stupid reckless prick. Can I handle him truly hating me?
“Simon, love! It’s nearly supper! Are you and Baz done your work?” Ms. Salisbury’s voice carries quite well. It jolts me from my depressive pit. Simon sighs and leans out towards the door.
“Yeah! Be down in a minute, Gran.” He looks at me, and I swear I see genuine sadness. “Looks like it’s time to say goodbye.”
I try to hide my own disappointment. “Yeah, looks like it.”
He bounces out of his chair, then offers his hand. I inhale sharply. Did not expect that. But after only a second of hesitation, I take it. He pulls me to my feet with ease. I’m still disturbed by how much his strength excites me.
“C’mon, let’s get you back on your motorbike, Pitch.”
“Should get you on it one day,” I say under my breath.
“What?”
I straighten up, hands in my jacket pockets. “Nothing, Salisbury.”
We walk down the stairs quickly. Well, Simon more jumps down them. He’s a never ending ball of energy. Ms. Salisbury is at the bottom.
“How was the work, you two?” she asks sweetly.
“Wonderful!” Simon chirps. “Talked about bunnies and stuff, and Baz let me do his nails.”
My brow shoots up to my hairline. I can’t believe he’s so open about this. If I told my father or Daphne the same, they would not say anything at best and lecture me at worst. But Ms. Salisbury looks positively elated by Simon’s words. “Oh, marvellous. Finally you can practice on someone other than me, love.”
Simon rolls his eye. “Yeah, like you don’t like it.”
“Of course. But it’s good you have another guinea pig. May I see your work?”
Simon looks at me in silent question. I shrug in response, then hold out my hand for his grandmother. She flips the glasses down from her head. “Amazing job, Simon. You’ve gotten so much better. And it looks great on you, Baz.”
“Thank you, Ms. Salisbury.”
She pulls away, waving dismissively. “Please, call me Ruth. Now, Baz, will you be staying for dinner?”
“Uh.” I turn to Simon. “Am I staying for dinner, Simon?”
Simon’s face turns red. “Oh, sure, if you want.”
I shrug. “I’m certainly in no rush to get home, and if it’s no trouble.”
“Oh it’s none at all,” Ms. Salis- Ruth says, waving her hand dismissively.
“Then I guess I’ll stay for supper.”
Ruth claps her hand once loudly. “Wonderful! Let me put out another setting.”
She saunters off to the kitchen. I decide to actually take off my jacket and boots and stay awhile. Simon leans in close to my ear, making my pulse spike.
“Hope you like roast beef,” he whispers. “It’s the only thing Gran knows how to cook well. Grandpa was a chef, and she’s been on her own since he died, so she’s never had to cook anything else. But she’s been learning more since I’ve got here.”
I shrug like he does. “I think I’ll live.”
“Good to hear.”
Simon leads me to the small dining room table. When I go to the left side, Simon grabs my hand and drags me to the right. I jolt slightly. Wow, that’s bold for him. Not that I’m complaining. I sit next to him as Ruth brings out a platter of delicious smelling meat and mash potatoes. Simon immediately shovels the food on his plate, licking his lips like a starving animal. I on the other hand take only a few slices delicately just like my mother taught me. But Ruth gives me an odd look.
“Are you not hungry, Baz?” she asks.
“Um, no, I am,” I reply slowly.
“Then please, take as much as you like. I always make a lot because of Simon’s endless appetite.”
Simon rolls his eyes, speaking with a mouth full of roast beef. “I’m a growing boy!”
“Growing monster more like it,” Ruth chuckles.
Huh, okay. I decide to be polite and take some more. Dinner proper starts, and it's...weird. My family is never this talkative at supper. We’re mostly silent and sullen. But the Salisburies are the exact opposite. Ruth and Simon chat, though Simon has trouble responding through all the the food in his mouth. (The boy has zero manners. It’s adorable.)
“So, Baz,” Ruth asks, facing me, “how’s school for you? I’ve only ever heard about it from Simon and Miss Penelope.”
No one’s ever asked my opinion of school either. I shrug. “It’s alright. Not my favourite place to be, of course. I think English is my favourite subject.” I tap Simon’s foot under the table. His breath hitches slightly, and he flashes me only a small smile. But it’s enough.
“Glad to hear so. Simon loves English too. He’s always eager to get to first period for Miss Possibelf’s class every morning.”
I flick my eyes over to Simon. His cheeks are flushed as he bites into his roast beef.
“Hm, glad to hear I’m not the only one who loves literature.” I let my voice drawl a bit, hopefully enough for Simon to notice but not Ruth. He doesn’t look up from his food, but I feel his toe tap my foot. And once again, it’s enough. Everything Simon does seems to be enough for me.
“I’m just glad Simon’s adjusting to Watford,” Ruth sighs. “It’s not easy moving schools most of the way through the year.”
Simon sighs in return. They sound almost exactly alike. Though Simon is more exasperated. “I told you, Gran, I’m fine. My grades are much better than last term.”
“There’s a good reason for that.” Ruth aggressively stabs her beef, and Simon looks sad as he nods slightly. This is the only crack in Ruth's kind demeanour I’ve seen all day. It’s strange, and the curious brainiac in me wants to know more. But the sensible part knows to just keep eating my food.
“Hey,” Simon chirps, “did I tell you about the kid who gave himself a wedgie in gum class yet?”
Ruth’s playful smile immediately returns. “No, I don’t believe you have.”
“Oh man, it was hilarious! Baz you’ll love this too.”
I lean my cheek into my palm. “I’m sure I will.”
Simon launches into the rambling anecdote, using mostly weird noises and illustrative hand gestures instead of words. Ruth and I both laugh along genuinely. This is the first time I’ve enjoyed a family meal in ages. It may be unusual, but it’s certainly not unenjoyable.
Soon enough, dinner is over, and Ruth brings out dessert. They’re sour cherry scones from Pritchard Bakery. Simon takes three immediately and starts slathering butter all over them.
“You like scones?” I ask mockingly.
Simon nods, scone crumbs all around his mouth. “Uh-huh. Gran got me some my first day here. They’re absolutely incredible.”
“My cousin owns the bakery, you know.”
His eyes go impossibly wide. “Really?! Could you get me some free samples?”
I shrug, a playful smile on my face. “Maybe.”
“Simon, you eat enough, you don’t need any more,” Ruth kindly berates. Simon frowns.
“There’s never enough scones, Gran.”
Ruth and I exchange an understanding look. Maybe I will bring him to see Cousin Pritchard before I go though. Something to make him happy before I’m gone.
Soon enough, Simon’s eaten all the scones, the dishes are done, and it’s my time to go. I’m a gentleman, I know when to take my leave. Simon and Ruth walk me out of the house.
“It was lovely having you, Baz,” Ruth says. And I have to admit, I’m a bit taken aback. Most parents and/or guardians aren’t this friendly to me. Dev and Niall’s parents barely acknowledge my existence nowadays, and they’ve known me since I was a baby. It’s a warm feeling I never thought I’d miss.
“Thank you for having me, Ruth,” I reply, smiling graciously.
“Anytime. Simon, feel free to invite him over again.”
Simon smiles sweetly at me, cheeks unabashedly scarlet. “Yeah, okay. Maybe we should meet up before the presentation on Wednesday?”
I nod, hoping my cheeks aren’t as bright. “I think I’d like that.”
Because I would. I regretfully very much would.
“Awesome! See you later!”
My lip twitches up without thinking. “See you.”
I get my helmet on. I don’t rev my engine as loud as usual to be respectful. Simon waves with his entire arm, while Ruth’s looks more like the queen. I salute in return. (That seems to be my thing now. I’ve embraced it.)
As I drive back towards my home, my mind stays with the Salisburies. With nail polish, roast beef, and a sense of peaceful happiness that lingers in me long after the house is in the distance.
I get to the Pitch hill and just sit there, looking up at the looming little bastard. I know what I’m supposed to do. Go back to all the misery there. But fuck that. I turn to the left, not back towards Simon’s, but at least somewhere my father isn’t. Somewhere I can keep this feeling for a little longer. And maybe get really pissed.
———————————————-
“Basilton! Where have you been?!”
If I didn’t already have a migraine, I’d assume my father’s voice had just given me one. Going on a two day bender will do that to you. I stop walking but don’t turn around. Honestly, I look like a wreck right now, and I don’t want him to see it.
“Away,” I say curtly.
“Away where?! We haven’t seen you in days! No calls, no mail. We’ve been worried sick!”
I groan and turn on my heels finally. To my utter surprise, he looks genuinely concerned. His eyes are wide and his hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. Huh. Actually worried about where I’ve been. That’s a first.
“Well, I’m home now,” I sigh. “Happy?”
“Certainly not.” He puts his hands on his hips like a pissed off school teacher. “I’ve been getting calls from your school. You’ve missed almost all of your classes, including tests and projects. I thought we had an agreement.”
I whip around, scowling with as much menace as I can muster with a hangover. “No, you gave me an ultimatum. And I refuse to be threatened into doing what you want, Father dearest.”
I start stomping away again, but we Grimms refuse to not have the last word. “Are you sure you haven’t just been...distracted, Basilton?”
I stop halfway up the stairs. The tone of his voice could imply many things, but I have a sinking feeling I know what he means. I chuckle, shaking my head. “Daphne told you about Tuesday, I suppose.”
“That you brought a boy over to our house without our knowledge? Yes. And I find it a bit disrespectful that-”
“That I what?!” I yell, probably louder than I should, considering it’s late at night and I have four younger siblings. “Dare to be gay?! Sorry it’s harder to ignore my sexuality when I’m actually acting on it.”
My father takes a deep breath, something he always does when he’s trying to keep his slipping composure. “Basilton, that is not what I meant.”
“Oh really? So you’re actually okay with me bringing guys around? Maybe I’ll start having big gay nightclub parties in the receiving room.”
I can see my father losing his cool. Bit by bit, his perfect British man composure is slipping. It’s the effect I certainly have these days. “That would not be appropriate, Basil. And I merely meant that maybe this ‘Simon’ is distracting you from your studies and causing your poor grades.”
For a second, I don’t know whether to laugh or be furious. Fire bubbles in my gut, my fingers curling on the bannister. Yup, let’s go with righteous fury. I stomp down the stairs and push my face into his.
“No,” I growl, “Simon is not at fault. You are. You are the catalyst for all the things I’m doing now, Your bullheadedness, your pride, your prejudi-”
“Oh for God’s sake, Basil!” He roars. “For once in your life take some goddamn responsibility for your own actions!”
I step back a bit. I haven’t seen him this outwardly angry in a year, but he’s practically seething. If he was the kind of man to throw a punch, he would have just clocked me. But instead he just stares me down in an attempt to intimidate. That won’t work.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, turning on my heels and stomping towards the door.
“Where are you going?” he calls after me.
“Out!” I turn to glare at him. “And I’ll be back when I feel like it!”
I make sure to slam the door very loudly, hoping my message is clear. I know exactly where I want to go. And who I want to see.
———————————————-
AN: Is Baz being a total brat here? Yes. Is his bratiness sorta justified? Also yes. Things are complicated. And finally we meet Ruth! I loved reading everyone's comments speculating about Simon's home life cause this was planned from the start lol. But why is Simon living with Ruth? Well, that will be explained shortly. Tune in next time for answers :)
Chapter title is from "Alfie's Song" by Bleachers.
Summary: It's judgement day, and Baz has everything to lose.
Read on AO3
AN: This is it! Judgement day! Well, fluff, then judgement day. Enjoy :D
Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @jeansjeansjeansjeans
———————————————-
I wake up to the sun is still rising, bathing the room in orange light. My eyes slowly adjust to my surroundings. It takes a bit for me to realise this isn’t my room, and this isn’t my bed. It’s not dark and looming, but bright blue and covered with Troye Sivan posters. When I focus on the golden face in front of me, I smile.
Simon’s on his side, his wild bedhead pointing every which way as he drools on his pillow (mouth breather). The sunlight dances perfectly across his tawny skin. He has one arm wedged between our bodies and the other hand tangled in my hair. I’m holding his waist under the sheet. I splay my hand across his back, pulling him a little closer. He snuggles against me.
“Baz,” he sighs with a sleepy smile, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.
I shift even closer, our noses almost touching. His eyes blink open slowly. Christ, they’re so big and blue. I really could lose myself in them happily. I see him taking in our surroundings, just like I did. A soft smile splits graces his face.
“Morning,” he whispers.
“Morning,” I reply.
“How do you feel?”
God, he’s so fucking considerate and kind. How the hell did I get so lucky? I play with one of his messy curls. “A bit sore, but I’m fine. Really, I’m too happy to care.”
Simon flushes down to his bare chest. He’s biting back a smile but not successfully. “Me too. I’m happy, I mean. I’m not sore. Except my neck sorta.”
I giggle, looking down at his hickey painted neck. There’s at least a dozen red and purple marks on his freckled skin in the vague shape of my mouth. “Sorry, love. I may have been a tad overexcited.”
“No shit, you bloody vampire,” he grumbles. But he still leans up to kiss me. His morning breath is terrible, but mine probably is too. Whatever. Not important right now. I kiss him back, cupping the back of his head. He digs his nails into my back. I hiss between our mouths. His scratches from last night are still fresh. Simon makes a noise of concern but I just kiss him harder, silently assuring him I’m okay. Suddenly, he gets on top me, pressing us together even closer. He rolls his hips and I gasp. I hold him closer. I can feel the heat building between us, the same heat as the night before.
Well, we do have some time before grades are posted, I suppose.
“Simon,” I groan, hooking a leg around his waist.
The wonderful bastard rolls his hips again, forcing all coherent thought from my brain. I scratch down his back, because he did that to me many times, and I’m petty as all fuck. Simon chuckles against my lips, then rocks harder. I push up, he pushes down, creating a now more familiar rhythm. Oh god, I’m never going to be able to leave this bed. I will die here completely content. I reach down between us, trailing down his chest to his hips, about to make him cry out beautifully.
But that’s when the wooden stairs creak.
“Simon, darling? Are you awake?” Ruth shouts up the stairway. Simon and I both freeze, heads facing the door.
“Oh shit,” he says hushed. “She’s back.”
“I can hear that,” I snap. “What the hell do we do? No matter how much she likes me, she’s not going to approve of me being in bed naked with her grandson.”
He pulls back, chewing on his bottom lip. “Crap, crap you’re right. Um...” He looks around frantically. “Hide under the blanket.”
I bolt upright. “What?!”
“I’ll pull up the duvet. You hide. Then you’ll sneak out the window before she sees you.”
I want to stare him down, but I can hear Ruth’s footsteps getting closer. So I just sigh and flop down. “Fine.”
Simon nods rapidly. “Good, good, now give me my shirt, and hide our clothes please.”
I grumble as I hand him his stupid oversized t-shirt, then push all our strewn about garments under his bed. Luckily we started the night close and it’s easy enough. But I still just make back onto the bed as Ruth knocks on the door.
“Simon?” She sounds very concerned.
“Yeah, Gran, I’m up,” he calls out.
“May I come in?”
“Um, sure. In a sec”
He mouths, get under, at me. Pull it higher, I mouth back. His brow adorably furrows. I helpfully poke one of the many bruises on his neck, making him hiss. I smirk as he pulls the blanket over me, shrouding me in stuffy darkness.
“Come in,” he says, and the door creaks open.
“What are you still doing in bed, love?” She coos. He was doing me, I want to say just to be a prick.
“Just tired from exams.” And screwing my brains out.
“Aw, poor sweetie.” There’s a pause. Simon shifts slightly, like he's pulling away. “Hm, you’re certainly warm and flushed.” I really have to contain my snicker. “Want me to get you up some soup?”
“Nah, I’m good. I just want to rest before checking grades at school.” Right, rest, that’s what we’ve been doing.
“Alright, love. Have a nice rest.”
She pads away, and the second the lock clicks shut, I throw the blanket off of me. Simon lets out a long sigh of relief. “That was too close.”
“Let’s meet up in a car next time,” I purr sarcastically.
Simon rolls his eyes with flushed cheeks. “Neither of us have a car.”
“Okay, we’ll do it on my bike.”
His eyes bulge out at that. It’s mostly shock, but I can see a bit of curiosity in there too. “I-I don’t think that’s possible...”
I shrug, rolling onto his chest with my arms crossed. “We could find a way. I’m brilliant, according to you.”
He grins brightly at that and reaches down to pet my hair. “That you are, darling. And you passed all your exams because of that.”
That makes me tense, hand clenching so hard my nails dig into my palm. I lay my head on Simon’s chest, right over his steady heartbeat. “We’ll know for sure today, I guess,” I murmur.
Simon keeps stroking my hair. I sink into the soothing sensation. “I know. We’ll get through it though, no matter what result says.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I’m still worried. I can't help it.”
His hand stills on my head. He leans forward and lightly kisses my hair line. It’s so soft and delicate it makes me shiver. “Me too. But we’ll still be okay.”
I love you, I almost say. But I swallow the words. I don't want to tell him like this. I don't want it to sound like a goodbye. “Yeah,” I whisper instead. “We will be.”
The sun is rising, the day is starting, and our time together may be reaching its end. I know I may lose Simon eventually, that we're young and relatively new and something simple could make this all far apart. But not yet, please. Not from this. Just...not today.
———————————————-
Sneaking out a window is quite difficult, really. Especially when you have to be silent and not fall over because your legs are weak. I barely make it to my bike without falling on my face. Slowly, I roll it to the next block over, like Simon and I agreed. I wait there for about ten minutes before the frantic pitter-patter of Simon’s feet. He’s wearing his flower crown and rosebud shirt. It shows off his hickies without shame. I hope Ruth didn't see him, but I can’t wait to see what Watford students think of that.
“Ready?” he chirps.
I hand him the helmet. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He puts it on and sits on the back of my motorcycle easily. It’s pretty much second nature for him now. He hugs my waist very tightly as engine revs. And we’re off.
The scenery of Watford blends together in brilliant colours like always. The bright blue water, the emerald green grass, all the beauty I may never see again. Simon’s arms are snug and warm around me. I try to focus on that instead of what may be on the grade sheets. It’s just like last night, when Simon and I danced. I turn off my big brain. I just live in the moment. I try not to think.
“Baz? Baz, we’re here.”
Simon’s voice shakes me out. Right, we’re at Watford High, with it’s tall looming presence. Simon blinks at me in concern. I smile and take his hand, his strong fingers weaving between mine. He smiles back.
“Let’s go,” I say smoothly.
Throngs of shouting students surround the bulletin board with grades. We have to muscle our way in. Simon is quite a help. Those broad shoulders certainly do come in handy sometimes. (He’d be good at American football.) Soon we reach the front. The white papers are stapled up to the ceiling, like their a tower about to fall on me. My stomach drops out. My lungs stop working. No, I can’t look, I can’t leave. I can’t-
“Baz,” Simon gasps. “Baz look.”
“Simon, I don’t-”
“Baz, just look!”
“Ugh, fine.” I raise my head and start scanning the names. Gershwin, Gloss, Granville-
GRIMM-PITCH: A A A A*
The world sort of tilts for a few seconds. The bulletin board goes wobbly, wavering like I'm underwater. I think I stumble, and very nearly faint. Simon holds onto my hand with a death grip, his other gripping my shoulder. He's keeping me upright, thank god. I barely notice as he drags me out from the crowd to a set of lockers, giving me some much needed breathing room. My head hangs low as I try to get reality back into focus.
“I...I did well,” I whisper. “My average...”
“It’s good,” Simon says happily. “You’ve got have a B at least.”
“I’m not being sent away.” It sounds so strange to hear it come out of my mouth. To say it with such surety and know I’m not wrong.
Simon’s hands grab my face, tilting it to look at him. His smile threatens to split his beautiful face in two. And I swear there are a few tears in the corners of his eyes. “No, Baz, you’re staying right here.”
I let out a breathy laugh. So does he. Simon wraps his arms around my neck and buries his face in my shoulder. I hold onto waist so tightly I fear hurting him.
“You did it, you brilliant bastard,” he giggles into my jacket. “I knew you could.”
I pull back to press my forehead against his. We keep chuckling while holding each other. The world disappears around me, fading to black. Similar to the night before, everything becomes just us, just Simon and I. The words spill out before I can stop them.
“I love you.”
Simon immediately freezes. He pulls back, eyes saucer wide and his jaw dropping open. I pull away farther, letting his arms fall from my shoulders and mine from his waist. My heart’s beating in my ears. I have to resist the urge to run far and fast.
“I-I, um, sorry I...” I sigh heavily. God, I can’t find the right words. This must be how Simon feels all the time. “Sorry, that was impulsive. We’ve only been dating a month, it’s too soon. I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. Please, just forget it and we’ll-”
“No, no, Baz.” He grabs both my hands and holds them firmly. He doesn’t look upset. In fact, he looks elated. “Baz, it’s okay. I was just stunned. But Baz, I...I love you too.”
My heart goes supernova in my chest. Something wt streaks down my cheek. Shit, am I crying? How pathetic, and a bit romantic, I suppose. I grab his waist again and hoist him up. Simon practically squeals as I spin him around. We probably look ridiculous but I don’t give a fuck about anyone else right now. Simon Salisbury loves me. He loves me. And I love him, so damn much.
Suddenly, he leans down to kiss me me, and I stop spinning to focus on that. The way our lips fit perfectly and his grip on my hair is tight but never too painful. I don’t let him go, his feet still dangling off the ground. I never want to let him go again. And now, I don’t have to.
“Get a room you two, jeez!”
Simon separates from me with a groan. I gently set him down. Bunce saunters up to us with a smug look. It perfectly suits her, as always.
“We’re celebrating, Pen, back off,” Simon scolds good naturedly.
She sighs. “Then I guess Basilton is sticking around, huh?”
“Don’t look so disappointed, Bunce,” I drawl. “This means you’ll have more opportunities to boss me around.”
“In that case, stop abusing Simon’s neck.” She pokes just under Simon’s jaw, where I left a particularly big bruise. He frowns and slaps her hand away.
“It’s not like I was complaining,” he chirps. I nuzzle against his cheek.
“Nope, definitely quite the opposite last night.”
Bunce oh so kindly gags. Simon steps out of my arms to hug her tightly. He whispers something indistinguishable in her ear. From the happy look on Bunce’s face, I assume he’s thanking her. I hold out my hand graciously. Once she’s done with Simon, she shakes it.
“Thank you, Penelope.”
“You’re welcome, Basil. Now thank me properly by never flirting in front of me ever again.”
I shrug, just like Simon does. “I can’t give you any guarantee.”
Simon slings an arm around me. “Nope, he can’t.”
Bunce groans and rolls her eyes. “I hate you both. Exams and fixing Basil have exhausted me. I’m going home to sleep for a thousand years, bye.”
“See you later, Pen!”
"Farewell, Bunce." She flips us off as she goes. I can barely savour the moment before Dev and Niall crash into me. “Oof!”
“Nice job, mate!” Dev shouts.
“You’re sticking around!” Niall adds.
I chuckle, wrapping them both in my arms. They slap my back and ruffle my hair. Dev leans down to plant a wet kiss on Simon’s cheek.
“Oi! Hands off, cousin.” I let go do them and pull Simon close to me. He leans into it, putting his head on my shoulder and an arm around my waist.
“I’m just grateful he convinced you to not fuck yourself over.” Dev’s shit eating grin tells me that’s mostly true, but the little arsehole also likes getting under my skin. I lightly knock his head.
“I’m glad I’m staying too,” I say kindly.
“Of course you are,” Niall sighs. “Look at Salisbury’s neck.”
Simon leans closer. I hold him tighter. “Yup,” I say with with a pop on the p. “We’re going to be celebrating quite a bit tonight.”
Niall and Dev’s faces screw up in disgust. Simon is blushy but beaming. I start leading my lovely boyfriend towards the exit.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, gentlemen, promise,” I shout back.
“Use protection!” They say simultaneously. I flip them off.
Simon and I push our way out the door. We don’t stop until we reach my bike, leaning against it to stare at the cloudless sky. I let a long breath, and it feels like everything is released in it. All the tension and worry and wondering. It all floats away into the aether.
I’m free.
“Well,” Simon sighs, “it’s over.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“What do we do now?”
I let my head loll over to his. Simon was worried this was all adrenaline, that I’d be bored once there was no threat. But the danger is gone. I’m not leaving anytime soon. Yet when I look at him, with his freckled cheeks and big blue eyes and pink flower crown, and my pulse still speeds up like it did the first day I saw him. More important than that, when I look at him, I still feel happy, and like nothing could change that.
I take Simon’s hand in mine. “Whatever we want.”
Simon beams. My heart flutters. He picks up his helmet and holds it between us. “Wanna drive?”
“Where?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Let’s just...drive.”
My face slowly morphs into a grin. Excitement burns through my veins. “I can certainly do that.”
Simon kisses me firmly once. It’s passionate enough my toes curl. As soon as he pulls back, he gets on the back of the seat. I quickly follow. He hugs my waist like always. I rev the engine, it roars to life. We race down the road, no destination, no deadlines, just seeing where the winds take us. And I'll go where ever it does, as long as Simon's by my side.
———————————————-
AN: Can you get a B average by aceing exams after you've skipped most of your classes? I don't know. This is fiction, let's pretend. And yeah, of course there's a happy ending. I can't handle sad endings, plus these boys deserve happiness. Like the whole story was about them growing and finding out ways to be happy. A sad ending wouldn't make any sense! Well, anyhow, hope all of you enjoyed that. The last chapter will be kind of a epilogue/tie up loose ends. I'll post it in two to three days. Thanks for reading :)
Chapter title is from "Something Else" by The Sex Pistols
