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carryonmylovelies · 7 years

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And If You Have Nightmares

Hello my lovelies!! I just wrote this last night (in pajamas at 4 am eating gummy snakes and listening to Disney music) and I wanted to share it with you!!

Tags: Fluff, angst, Dancing, nightmares, kisses, Watford oneshot

Word Count: 2k +

Summary: This was inspired by the line “And if you have night mares we’ll dance on the bed” from my favorite song Guillotine by Jon Bellion. AKA Simon wakes up from a nightmare and Baz has an interesting way of helping him.

Enjoy :D

Baz

I was returning from the Catacombs that night. I had gotten too careless and too hungry. Deciding to ignore the craving of his blood and instead stare at him while he slept was idiotic, I know. But it was the only time his eyes were closed long enough for me to watch him.

I loved to stare at Simon like a disturbed creature and convince myself that I was thinking of ways to end his life, when in reality I was counting all the moles that caught in the moonlight. I wanted to make sure he still had three on his right cheek, two below his left ear, and one over his left eye. Maybe Simon got older, fell in love with a perfect girl, and decided that he really was going to kill his vampire roommate. But his moles never changed. Three on his right cheek, two below his left ear, one over his left eye. WIth a dusting of freckles on his shoulders. It’s like someone threw cinnamon at him and it just never washed off.

It’s a great way to spend my nights, except when pushing away the sharp pains of want gets to be too much. I was so close to killing Simon earlier, so close to sinking my fangs into his neck, that I ran away. I couldn’t kill my worst enemy because I couldn’t kill the love of my life. Funny how it works like that.

I fed on at least a dozen rats, and I could feel the blood sloshing around inside my stomach as I climb the winding staircase. My cheeks are warm and my hands feel human. It’s nice. My hair is tangled with cobwebs and my trousers are dirty. I just want to shower, then waste the rest of my night dreaming about the one thing I could never have while that one thing obliviously slumbers on a few feet away from me. But when did I ever get my way.

I don’t even make it to the bathroom. Simon’s having a nightmare again. He thrashes violently on his bed, his long limbs getting wrapped up in the blankets. His curls are matted to his forehead with sweat and his face is bright red. His eyes aren’t open; he doesn’t notice the crackling magick that’s pouring out of him in waves. The room smells like a raging bonfire and I can’t think straight because of his dizzying magick. (Then again, when can I ever think straight?) It’s like Simon is being struck by lightening over and over until he can’t handle it anymore. And how can he? He’s just a boy. Everyone forgets that, at some point or another. He’s just a boy.

He’s talking now, shouting Penny and Agatha’s names. I ignore him. I turn my back and loosen my tie. He isn’t my problem and he isn’t my friend. He isn’t mine.

I’m about to climb into my bed and let him torture himself with his own nightmares (no one’s ever there for mine) when all of a sudden he gasps like he’s getting his first breath of air after a long time of not having it, then he goes quiet. So I stand there, facing the wall and trying so hard not to turn around. No matter what he’s doing, he’ll still look beautiful. And then I’ll break.

I turn around. And I bloody wish I hadn’t.

Simon is facing me with his knees tucked against his chest and his eyes squeezed shut. He’s shaking like a leaf in the middle of a hurricane and tears are running down his cheeks. It looks like he’s trying to choke out a sob, but no sound comes out. His chest shudders with heavy breaths and he starts to choke on his tears. His violent coughing only makes him cry harder. I wince and almost reach out to him but I quickly snatch my hand back. No. He doesn’t want you, Baz. He wants to kill you. You’re the last person he needs right now. Don’t try to save him. He doesn’t love you.

I step closer and look down at him for a moment. I can see how vulnerable and scared he is. I think about how easy it could be to lean down and kiss him. I would kiss him right on his trembling, wet lips and taste the salt on his skin. And then I would set myself on fire. Because only monsters kiss their enemies when they’re in pain.

Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy. And I’m not brave enough. So I leave his side and am almost out of the room when he cries my name.

“Baz!”

Simon dissolves into another fit of gasping sobs, but he’s awake this time. His magick is still swirling around the room like smoke, but at least nothing seems like it was going to explode anymore.

Blue eyes drowning in tears fixate on mine. And a little part of me dies.

I stumble forward a bit, but then regain my composure and clear my throat.

“What is it, Snow?” I try to sound normal and unaffected but it comes out more breathless than I intended.

His eyes grow wide and he quickly shakes his head, burying his face in his arms so I can only see his messy bronze curls.

“N-nothing . . . g-go away, Baz.” His voice is muffled but I can still hear faint sobbing.

“But . . . you said my name,” I murmur, sounding hurt.

“Y-you don’t c-care, Baz. Just l-leave me al-alone.”

“No,” I whisper, and he raises his head slightly, looking lost and confused. (As per usual.) But I can’t blame him. I haven’t the faintest idea of what I’m doing either. It’s late, I’m tired from hunting, and he looks so pretty when he cries.

“What?” He asks softly, moving his head a bit more so now I can see the tip of his nose.

“You said my name in your sleep. And I’m not leaving because I want to know why.” My voice cracks on the last word and I clench my jaw. I’m not crying tonight. Not in front of him.

He crushes his face into his arms again. “Y-you were . . . you . . . I k-killed you. And then I-I tried to . . . to s-save you. I wanted you to l-live. I w-wanted you to know I-I . . . b-but you d-died anyways. I couldn’t s-s-s-save you, Baz,” he sobs desperately.

I can’t take it anymore.

I fall to my knees beside him, gasping as hot tears start to fall from my eyes and drip off of my chin and nose. I can feel his magick draw back and I don’t hear him crying anymore, so I guess my emotional outburst is enough of a distraction. I look up at him, and he’s watching me turn into a mess. Well, I already was a mess. I’m just not hiding it right now.

I take a breath and I move closer to Simon. Then a little closer still; I have nothing left to lose.

We’re almost touching, now. And I think this isn’t real. His lips are a second away; we’re breathing the same air. He has freckles on his nose and a mole on his jaw. They’re faint and golden and I’m just now seeing them. They’re stars.

His eyes are bluest blue in the whole universe, and I want to know why he isn’t scared. I’m the monster that gets too close to the sun. And we both know no one wants the monster.

I brush a curl out of his eyes, and my fingers touch his skin. We both shiver. But he still doesn’t get it.

“What are you doing, Baz?” He breathes, as if talking might destroy everything.

“I don’t know.” I whisper back, wiping away one of his tears before it falls.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know anything?” The corners of his mouth quirk up, but you would only be able to notice if you were looking for it.

I smirk, “More than you.”

He laughs, and it’s stupid and terrible and wonderful.

This is crazy. I’m crazy for thinking I can get this close. He’s crazy for letting me.

Maybe I should do something sane. Maybe I should do the sanest thing that happens tonight. Like pushing him away, saying something that will make him hate me so much he goes off, and running until I can’t feel his breath on my lips. But I’m not sane. In fact, I think I might be completely mental.

“Dance with me, Simon Snow.”

***

“Dance with me, Basilton,” she would murmur, brushing away the scared tears that rained down my cheeks. My bed was too big and my room was too cold. And the monsters under my bed wouldn't go away, just like the ones in my nightmares.

“Why, mama?” I asked as I buried my face in the crook of her neck.

She stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head.

“Because dancing makes all of the bad dreams go away, my little puff.”

Then, together, we would stand up on top of the bed. I wrapped my arms around her waist while she cast the spell.

Back then, I didn’t know how spells worked. I thought my mother made all the words magick with a flick of her wand. My mother practically hung the moon, so really, what couldn’t she do? I thought she was made of the best kind of magick. I still do.

“Cue the music,” she would say, smiling theatrically and giving her wand an extra flourish.

The music sounded like her as it started to play. It was powerful and fierce and I couldn’t help but laugh because I knew the monsters would be too scared of my mother and her music to bother me.

“There,” she said, letting my tiny fingers clutch onto her warm, rough hands and giving me a little twirl. “Now, we dance!”

***

My mother stopped being able to save me from my nightmares, but maybe I can still save him.

I look at him shyly, waiting for his response. I feel weird and nervous and I hate it. Damn you, Snow.

He blushes, red spreading over his nose and cheeks like wildfire, and it’s so endearing I just want to slam him against something and kiss him until he can’t remember his own name.

“O-okay, B-baz,” Simon stutters, ducking his head and not meeting my dopey gaze.

I choke, losing the ability to breathe because the prettiest boy alive just said he would dance with me. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest and fly around the room like a bloody cartoon and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.

I take a deep breath and push myself off of the ground. I clamber onto his bed as gracefully as I can without landing on my arse and I grab his hand. I pull both of us up so we’re standing on top of Simon’s bed, and he giggles while we try to find our balance on the soft mattress.

His long arms wind around my neck and my hands blessedly find his waist. I bring him an inch closer and I swear his breath hitches as I do it. It’s probably the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. He smells like flour and cherries and sunshine and boy and I can’t get enough. He’s like the worst kind of drug and Merlin, am I addicted.

He looks at me expectantly and honestly? I can’t form a coherent thought when Simon Snow’s arms around my neck and I’m holding his waist so I just continue to stare at him like I’m seeing the stars for the first time.

He grins, “Music, Baz?”

My face grows hot and I internally curse myself for the affect this clumsy boy has on me. Music, of course. Crowley I’m thick.

I reluctantly take one of my hands away and grab my wand. I point it at nothing in particular, deciding to keep my eyes on these shining blue ones, and cast, “Cue the music.”

The spell doesn’t create any sort of specific music, just music that fits the scene. I have no clue to what will start to play. I just hope it’s good enough.

The notes are gentle and low at first, and we begin to sway back and forth. Our breaths are synced and our chests rise and fall together. The music is slowly filling us up with that kind of warmth you get right before you fall asleep, and I haven’t felt this good since forever.

The music picks up, becoming louder and stronger, and the notes are hitting us full force. I can feel his fire, and his flames of magick are mixing with the vibrations of the music.

We’re moving against each other, now, with newfound confidence. His eyes don’t leave mine for a second and I have never loved him more. One of my hands leaves his waist and moves up to the small of his back so I can bring him closer. He doesn’t seem to mind. My fingers finally find his thick curls and I tug on them gently. He leans into my touch and whimpers. (I stand corrected, because that was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.)

His arms tighten around my neck and his forehead bumps against mine. He looks like he wants to say something, and he keeps trying, but when he can't find the words, he just presses harder into me.

“Simon,” I murmur, looking down at him slightly because he’s beneath me, always. By at least three inches.

I don't think there's a part of us that isn't touching right now. I can feel his heartbeat and his magick all at the same time. It's incredible.

“Baz,” he breathes back, want reflected in his eyes so much it hurts.

“Simon, what-” I exhale and try again. “What do you want?”

He gazes at me and his pupils are so dilated it looks like the black consumed his blue.

The music quiets, almost as if it’s waiting for his answer.

I'm frozen and on fire. Its torture. But I don't care.

“You. I want you, Baz,” he says.

The crescendo hits and roars in my ears but I can barely hear it.

And then we fall. Onto the bed or in love, what difference does it make? We're falling.

His lips crash against mine and it only makes sense because I'm always crashing into him.

Simon Snow, you set my soul ablaze. And you know how I love to burn.

#carry on fanfiction #raegan writes a story #I hope you like it #simon snow #baz pitch #and if you have nightmares #guillotine by jon bellion #angsty baz #nightmare simon #my gay sons dancing #my weakness

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