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malumsmermaid · 4 years

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Sweet Dream or a Beautiful Nightmare?

Happy Halloween everyone! This is the halloween event fic for the collab discord!

I chose the prompt of “Person A sells their soul to Person B, a crossroads demon,” for Mashton.

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Demon Michael x Ashton

Description: So I made this an alternate timeline. 5SOS is still 5SOS, but, they don’t really take off until after Ashton is already 18, and Ashton joins the band much earlier than Michael does, for the sake of the prompt and my plans.

Warnings: Demons, mentions of death

Event Masterlist My Masterlist Buy Me a Ko-Fi

Ashton took a deep breath, giving the book and bag of supplies sitting in his passenger seat an anxious glance. He’d bought the spell book from a local used bookstore months ago, assuring his two friends that it was just as a joke. This week however, curiosity and desperation took over, leading him to dig through his closet until he found the note-laden spell book, still in the bag it was placed in the day it was purchased.

He steeled himself, grabbing the book and bag and turning off his car, climbing out and taking sure steps towards the intersection of the streets. He grabbed chalk from the plastic bag, trying not to look too long at the other ingredients for the summoning. He set the book next to him on the ground, shivering as it fell open to the exact page he needed. “Okay Ash,” he breathed, “get yourself together and let’s do it, for the boys. Six guitarists in six months is fucking ridiculous.”

He dug in the cloth bag for the box of chalk, taking a piece out and walking to the center of the intersection. He kneeled on the pavement, focusing on the crossroads he was at mentally as he drew out the symbol illustrated in the spell book. He knew that Luke, Calum and himself had a great fit for their band, the only thing they were lacking in their balance was the right guitarist. He had a feeling that if they didn’t find another guitarist soon, and if this seventh guitarist wasn’t the missing piece they’d been searching for, the two younger boys may lose hope and give up. He maintained focus on his goal as he meticulously followed the instructions laid out in the book.

Everything completed he took a step back, eyes closed as he focused on what he needed. When he opened his eyes again, there was a cloaked figure in front of him, orange glowing eyes showing from beneath a hood. Ashton stood his ground, even with the lit candles flickering out, staring the orange eyes down as he waited for the crossroads demon to speak. Ashton thought he could make out a smirk on the demon’s lips as he sized up the eighteen year old in front of him.

“Was this just some dare from your friends or do you actually need me for something, kid?” The demon’s voice was low, almost bored.

Ashton squared his shoulders, standing up straighter and sticking his chin out, pushing down even the slightest bit of fear. “I truly believe my band has a good chance of making it in our field, we just are failing desperately at finding the right guitarist.”

The demon blinked, “You’re willing to sell your soul to a demon...for a guitarist. Not the success of the band, just the guitarist.”

Ashton nodded, sighing, “We’ve been through six guitarists in as many months. I’m here for the perfect guitarist for our band. The success will follow from that.”

“Are you sure about that?” the demon asked, fingers fiddling with the large sleeves of the cloak. “This is really what you want to sell your soul for, no little extra guarantee that it will actually work out on top of this guitarist?”

Ashton looked at the ground, silent for a moment, before looking up into the glowing eyes through his fringe, “It really is. I think my bandmates may give up if this next guitarist doesn’t work out, and I don’t want that to happen. Besides, if it had been one of their ideas, I would’ve made sure I was the one to do it. They don’t deserve that.”

“And you do?” The demon retorted, though his voice took on a concerned note.

Ashton paused, eyebrows pulling together before shaking his head. He reached his hand across the sigil he’d drawn in the road, “Do we have a deal?”

The demon took in Ashton’s unwavering position, his refusal to back down, convinced that this was the measure he had to take for his friends. “Deal.” The demon responded, grasping Ashton’s hand in his own. “Guitarist lucky number seven will be at your next rehearsal,” he stated before turning around and getting ready to disappear back into the darkness, “Can’t wait to see how this one turns out.” He muttered to himself.

Ashton gathered what remained of his ingredients, taking them to the car and grabbing his thermos full of water, rinsing the chalk off of the roadway before finally getting back in his car and going home.

~~~~~

Two days later Ashton was setting up his drum kit in Luke’s house. He was anxiously tightening a wing nut to a cymbal when the doorbell rang. Luke frowned, putting his guitar down and going to answer the door. Ashton could hear Luke talking to someone and hummed, continuing his set up. Soon Luke returned, another boy following behind him. “This is Michael,” the blonde started, getting both Ashton and Calum’s attention. “He told me that he heard from a friend that we were looking for another guitarist?”

Luke’s blue eyes were questioning, wondering if his other two bandmates had spoken to anyone about the recent opening. Calum looked just as confused as Luke and Ashton whirred through some excuse he could make up. “I uh, may have mentioned it to one of the people at the barbecue I went to after practice the other night. Didn’t think they’d actually know someone looking for a band though, guess I was wrong.”

Luke simply shrugged and nodded, turning back to Michael, still hanging behind him. Ashton caught the guitarist’s eye and...did he just wink at him? No, he had to have imagined it. Michael’s brown hair fell in his face and he crouched on the floor, pulling his guitar out of the case and tuning it, knowing that the band would need to hear him play before anything was decided.

Ashton finished setting up his kit and took a seat in front of the Hemmings’ Christmas tree. Calum was on one side of him, fidgeting with the shoulders of his tank top, Luke on the other looking at Michael. He’d pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder, guitar hanging on his back as he fidgeted with the strands of his hair before stepping up to Calum’s keyboard. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves before he started playing the opening notes to Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. He swung his guitar around and began to play. He leaned into the microphone and began singing the lyrics as well and Ashton thought he caught another furtive glance and a smirk from him.

Luke got to his feet halfway through the song, stopping Michael. “Dude, if you can get along with the three of us as well as you can play guitar, I’d say you’re in. What do you guys think?”

Calum spoke up from his spot, “Yeah, hang out with us some after practice today and same at the next and if we’re all getting along, I’d say it’s going to work out.”

Ashton simply nodded his agreement with the other two boys and got to his feet, going to settle behind his drum set, ready to start practice. Michael was beaming as he moved to the other side of the living room stage, looking at the tabs Luke was showing him for one of the original songs that he wanted to work on today.

~~~~~~~

Michael blended into the group with ease, Ashton and Calum welcoming him in before the first rehearsal with the new guitarist was even over. Ashton brushed off his apprehension about the looks that Michael had been giving him, he was a nice guy and there was no way he could know about the deal the drummer had made. By his third rehearsal, Michael had come up with a name for the group, the other three boys having been struggling with that for a long time, especially with the more pressing issue of keeping a guitarist on the forefront of their minds.

Soon, 5 Seconds of Summer were posting more videos to Luke’s youtube channel and playing more local shows. With Michael fitting in so well with the group they were now working harder than ever before. After a few months, they finally got a call from a label. They worked out the details with their parents and began touring around the country, and then across the world.

The years went on and the band’s success continued to grow, multiple albums debuting at number 1 and playing larger and larger venues. During one tour Ashton dyed his hair black, posting a picture in front of a window, captioning it “feeling like a demon again.” Michael was in another room, and he let out a low chuckle when he read the caption, double tapping the photo and carrying on.

It was coming up on ten years since Michael joined the band, ten years since Ashton made a deal with the crossroads demon. He wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate his 28th birthday when it came along, knowing in five months, he would no longer be himself, if he was even still here. They finished recording their sixth album and Ashton went back to Australia for a month, spending time with his family. When he got back to LA in mid-September he began pulling away from his friends, only responding to band related texts immediately, sometimes taking three days to reply to even Calum when he tried to check in. He tried to say that he was working on a second solo album during the lull before they had to start promoting the new record, but he knew that would only hold them off for so long.

By October Ashton’s nightmares of the orange-eyed demon he’d been having from time to time since they met were now nightly. The first week of November he just gave up on sleeping entirely, throat raw from waking up screaming as the cloaked demon dragged him out of bed and down through his bedroom floor into darkness.

At the end of the week without sleep, Ashton once again found himself spending the whole day sitting on his couch, staring intently at a blank page of his journal. The room grew dark around him as the sun sank in the sky. The last few golden rays travelled through the windows when he recognized the sound of Michael knocking on his door. Before he could get up or even respond to the sound, the door opened, Michael walking straight in. Ashton wearily raised his head, looking at his friend standing in the doorway to the living room. “You look soulless.” Michael said, “Trust me, I would know.”

Ashton shook his head, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning his head on his hands. “What do you need Mike?”

“I know why you’ve been avoiding us, pushing everyone away.”

Ashton let out a dark chuckle. “Sure. Take a guess.” He muttered, keeping his head down.

Michael stepped further into the room, boot stomping on the hardwood. “Ashton. Look at me.”

There was something different to Michael’s voice, and Ashton found himself unable to disobey. He sat up, turning to look at the blonde and gasped. The same glowing orange eyes that had been haunting his nightmares were staring straight at him, coming from Michael’s face. Ashton scrambled backwards until his back was against the far arm of the sofa, the guitar that had been next to him dropping to the floor. Michael frowned, stepping forward, picking up the instrument from the ground, checking it and carefully beginning to tune it again while Ashton searched for words.

“Y-you!” He choked out, “Get out of Michael!”

The demon sighed, eyes fading back to green as he fiddled with the guitar. He snapped his fingers, turning on some lamps. “Ashton,” he said, voice soft, “I’ve been Michael the whole time, from before you came forth to make the deal to now.”

Ashton shook his head, “So I wasn’t being paranoid about the looks you were giving me when you tried out for the band.”

Michael chuckled, nodding. “I was sort of hoping you’d notice much sooner. I was just drawn in by your confidence that all you needed was a guitarist. And you were right.”

Ashton was still pressed against the arm of the sofa, so Michael stayed where he was, tenderly cradling Ashton’s guitar, letting him set his boundaries, letting him figure out how he felt. Finally, Ashton shifted, actually looking at Michael, no longer pinning himself to the end of the couch. When he spoke, his voice was raw, “It’s just...god, Michael. I’ve trusted you with things I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’ve been vulnerable with you...I--I’m in fucking love with you.” Ashton’s scoff turned into a disbelieving laugh. “I would fall in love with a demon, makes so much more sense now.”

“Hey now,” Michael said, voice soft as he moved to sit next to Ashton, hand resting on the drummer’s thigh. Ashton didn’t pull away and Michael carried on, “I gave up my original job out of curiosity after we met. The past ten years I’ve spent with you...and the band...I’ve been closer to my old mortal life, old feelings, than I have been in centuries.”

“What do you mean?” Ashton asked, hazel eyes meeting green.

“I mean, I wasn’t always a crossroads demon, if that’s what you’re asking. In my old life I was a travelling minstrel, and one day, I performed the same ceremony you did, summoned the demon who would be my master in order to make a deal.”

Ashton tilted his head, understanding crashing over him and he nodded, curls bouncing. “Did you make the deal you expected me to make? Asking for success and fame?”

Michael chuckled, “No, Ashton, I assumed that’s where you were going because I’ve been a crossroads demon for four hundred years. The number of times I’ve heard that request in the past fifty years alone...it’s not a hard assumption to make.”

Ashton nodded, quietly waiting to hear Michael’s story. Michael hummed, leaning back into the couch as he began. “It was a festival, celebrating the arrival of spring. We were playing in the market square and a boy caught my eye. I later learned he was the son of the lord and lady of that region and doubted I had much chance. But I had to have him. So, that night, I made a deal and within the next fortnight, I was a regular in his bed.

His parents knew nothing of the matter and within two years he was married to the daughter of some duchess, but we had an understanding with her. She had little interest in lying with her husband anyway, her heart laid with one of the maids who helped her dress.

Much too soon my time came and I became a demon. I stopped aging, learned my trade, and began my work. I still spent nights with my beloved, but he continued aging, and soon, at least to me, it became clear that he couldn’t keep up with me anymore. I held his hand as he crossed over. He and his wife never had children, even for the sake of appearances, and so their line ended with their deaths. He chose to be reborn, I check in on him once every century, but I always miss when he would be my apparent age. The two times that I caught him in his later years, his soul recognized me for who I was and we had long talks when I came by, but nothing more.”

Ashton stared, nodding as he listened to Michael’s century’s old tale, of who he had been before Ashton was even a thought. “H-have you found him in this century?” He voiced.

Michael chuckled, “Yes, I have. As much as you remind me of him, you aren’t him. No, he’s the man you’ve known as my dad the past few years. Hate that I had to put that sort of spell on him, but I needed a cover. But, like I said, my timing has been off, probably the curse of being a demon, can’t keep up with the man I loved.”

Ashton nodded slowly. “But you know why I can’t tell anyone why I’ve been pulling away. Luke and Calum wouldn’t understand. I...I don’t want to hurt them.”

Michael hummed, pulling Ashton to rest on his chest. “I know, but I have a plan. I’ll get us both out of this. But first you need to get some sleep.”

Ashton wanted to protest, to explain his nightmares, but the warmth of Michael’s body and the song beginning to fill his ears were making his limbs heavy, eyelids drooping.

~~~~~~

Ashton awoke in his dark room, feeling more rested than he had in months. He was dimly aware of the other body in his bed, but opted to continue to lay still, see if sleep would claim him again, unsure how long he had been out. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Michael murmured, shifting to face Ashton.

Ashton didn’t jump, he wasn’t as foggy as he would normally expect upon waking up. He still remembered his conversation with Michael before he’d fallen asleep, and he still felt comforted by Michael’s presence, despite now knowing the truth. “How long was I out?” He hummed, turning to look at Michael’s silhouette.

Michael shifted, picking up his phone to check the time. “So it was like almost 7pm when you fell asleep the other night, then all of yesterday, I cleaned up the house by the way, and now it’s 5am the next day. Thought you were gonna wake up a few times during the day, but you just rolled over after mumbling something.”

Ashton blinked as he tried to take that in. He didn’t think that he’d ever slept that long, even at his most jet-lagged or exhausted following a long tour. “Makes sense, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any sleep, since I’ve slept without any nightmares.”

Michael nodded, tentatively reaching out. Ashton moved closer, letting Michael place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Looked up tickets, got us a flight home tomorrow afternoon, figured you’d be awake by then. Do you wanna get Luke and Calum together for lunch or dinner today and just have a boy’s night, have a heart to heart?”

“But we can’t really tell them all of it, can we?”

“Up to you, I don’t mind them knowing, my plan includes shrugging off my old job, getting rid of these guys.”

Even knowing the truth, the sight of Michael’s glowing orange eyes still made Ashton flinch. “Let’s just plan getting together today, and decide what we’re going to tell them when we get there. I’m going to go do some yoga, stretch out after being in bed so long.” Ashton got out of bed after Michael nodded, stretching out his back as he walked around the bed. “How about dinner? Then we can come back here and talk more.”

Michael agreed, “I’ll send them a text later to get everything planned, doubt they’d appreciate a 5am text.”

~~~~~~

Ashton ended up deciding against telling Luke and Calum the full story, since it sounded like Michael was planning on no longer being a demon by the end of the week, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to explain how Michael had really become part of the band, by Ashton making a deal with the demon. They’d been nothing but supportive, reminding him that they’re always there if he needs to talk. Michael was sitting next to him, occasionally giving him gentle touches and reassuring looks as he explained some of what he’d been going through.

Ashton slept the whole flight back to Australia the next day, only waking during a spot of turbulence to find Michael had rested his head on Ashton’s shoulder, also asleep. Once they’d landed, Michael rented a car and they went to get dinner before checking into the hotel. “Let’s get some rest,” Michael said after he set his bag down, taking a seat on the bed. “Then tomorrow night we’ll go back to where we first met and get this reversed, neither of us will have anything to worry about anymore.”

Ashton nodded, and both men took turns getting ready for bed. There were two beds in the room, but Ashton looked over at Michael anxiously. “Can I sleep next to you? I...I don’t want to be alone in a bed again.”

Michael nodded and Ashton flipped off the lamp by the bed he’d originally claimed, crawling in next to Michael. He moved close to him, scared to be touching him, still not entirely sure where they stood. Michael however, closed the distance after he turned off the lamp, pressing his body closer and throwing an arm over Ashton’s shoulder.

The pair slept soundly through the night, spending the day laying low, having lunch and dinner out at quieter local cafes. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, full moon rising higher in the sky, Michael drove out to the crossroads where Ashton had summoned him just a month shy of ten years ago. He pulled over, reaching into the backseat for the bag he’d brought with him. Ashton followed him to the center of the intersection, watching as Michael began the summoning ceremony Ashton had followed, but in reverse order. The asphalt swallowed up the ingredients as Michael threw them down, the demon chanting in an ancient language as he circled the ground. He traced glowing orange runes into the road.

Once there was a glowing circle surrounding the runes, Michael stepped back, arms open wide as he continued chanting, Ashton hesitantly stepping forward to stand at his side. Michael fell silent as before them appeared a figure far more terrifying than anything Ashton’s nightmares had conjured. Ashton was petrified, rooted to the spot. Michael gave him a glance before looking back at the entity before them. “Hey Cain, been a minute. Could you do human form, for the sake of my best friend here?”

The figure began to shrink, swirling shadows of dark fog turning to flesh and animal skin clothing, terrifying features morphing to human. “Cain?” Ashton squeaked, “Like Cain and Abel, Cain? Like…”

Michael simply nodded, “Told him about 150 years ago that he owed me a massive favor, now I’m cashing in.”

Cain snorted, now fully human, leaning on a wooden club. “I have existed for millenia, young minstrel, that may as well have been yesterday.”

Michael simply rolled his eyes, carrying on. “Look, you owe me big time and that’s what matters. Ash owes me his soul and his day is coming up, but I don’t want it anymore. I’ve spent the last ten years with Ashton and our bandmates and I’ve been more in touch with my mortal side than I’ve been since my beloved died the first time. After watching him die that first time, and then several times after that, I’m done. I have a new love and I can’t go through that again, watch him age and die. And none of that redemption myth stuff that goes around. I want to be mortal, I want to grow old for the first time in my entire existence, and I want to do that with Ashton.”

Ashton blinked, staring at Michael before he turned to look at Cain, who was deep in thought over Michael’s request. “That definitely is well within your right to request, and fills my debt to you without leaving you in debt to me...well thought out, minstrel.”

Michael’s face remained neutral and Cain held his hands out on either side of him. In his right hand, a scroll with what Ashton recognized as his signature at the bottom, in his left, a glowing ball of light. Cain released the ball of light, which began to float toward Michael as the scroll tore in two and burst into flame. “The deal is complete.” Cain stated, disappearing into shadow as the ball of light reached Michael, floating into his chest.

As soon as the light touched Michael’s chest, he collapsed onto the pavement, Ashton gasping and rushing to his side. Shadows poured from Michael’s eyes, nose, mouth and ears, sinking into the ground. Ashton crouched on the road, holding Michael’s head in his lap as the last of the shadows trickled out and faded away. The blonde’s eyelids slowly fluttered, finally blinking open fully. Ashton stared down at him, an extra glimmer of life showing in Michael’s green eyes that Ashton didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “Ash,” Michael croaked, trying to push himself up, but Ashton firmly pushed his shoulders back down.

“You just got blasted back by that bright thing, you need to chill for a moment.” He stated, hands staying on Michael’s shoulders.

Michael remained still, smiling up at Ashton. “It was my soul, my original soul, the one I signed over,” Michael whispered, “I can feel it.” He paused, then his eyes widened, “Do I look fucking ancient now?” He gasped.

Ashton chuckled, shaking his head, “No, you look like Michael, the same Michael I’ve known for the past ten years, just a little more soul behind your eyes.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the joke before looking up at the stars. “I meant it, when I said I wanted to grow old with you.”

“I know. I do too, I’m glad we have that option now.”

Michael smiled and they sat there quietly until Ashton felt that Michael had recovered, finally getting to their feet and driving back to the hotel. They spent the rest of the week in Australia, Cain’s deal hadn’t undone Michael’s spell on his parents, and both he and Ashton were glad of that, visiting with both their families while they were there.

Once they were back in LA, Michael began moving his things into Ashton’s house. They had dinner with Luke and Calum, and the other two men could tell that something had changed between their friends, but didn’t push it. They knew that they’d be told when Michael and Ashton were ready.

Months later, Michael and Ashton were in their garden, sitting around the fire pit. They’d told Calum and Luke about their relationship at New Years, to which Luke yelled “Finally!” They’d all laughed and hugged before staring into the sky as fireworks exploded across the city, well ahead of midnight.

Tonight was the last night of peace before they were set to go back into the studio. Ashton cuddled closer to Michael on the bench, lazily poking at the burning logs with the hook. “Y’know,” he whispered, “I feel like, if we were both human the whole time we’ve known each other, I’d still offer you my soul.”

Michael glanced at him, green eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Ashton giggled, dropping the metal rod to the grass and leaning up and giving Michael a kiss.

“Like in the I’m totally in love with you way, you worry wart.” He said. “I trust you with my heart and every bit of my being. I know that you won’t hurt me.”

Michael hummed, smiling at Ashton, watching the flames dance in his hazel eyes. “You know what?” He said after a couple of minutes, “I’d give you my soul too.” Michael tore his gaze from Ashton for a moment, sticking his skewer into the flames, watching the marshmallow goo that was still stuck to the metal blacken and drip into the fire. “Feels a lot better this way.” He observed, “With my first love I signed over my soul to get it, but to you, I’d give it freely.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Ashton whispered.

Michael nodded, dipping his head for another kiss. “I love you Ashton Irwin.”

“And I you, Michael Clifford.”

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letsperaltiago · 3 years

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a merry little christmas

Welcome to (once again belated) door four of four!

Behind my Christmas calendar’s fourth door is a... baby’s first christmas, pure fluff oneshot ♥️

Summary: It's Baby's First Christmas and Jake and Amy are taking it all in - both presents and tiny surprises from their son. Pure domestic fluff for days.

Rating: G

Words: 2.2k

Read on AO3 here

Right then and there keeping a straight face, or just anything that looks somewhat close to it, is beyond impossible.

It’s Christmas morning, six AM to be more precise, and the still rather new, little family of three is slowly making their way through the presents waiting for them under this years’ Christmas tree. As a matter of fact, it’s rather Jake opening gifts meanwhile Amy is on the couch with their two-month-old son eating his second breakfast - that is if his previous meal at three AM can be considered breakfast. Jake likes to call those meals Midnight Mac Snacks.

“They really need to communicate more,” Amy chuckles, which causes her chest to jolt just the tiniest bit, alas apparently enough that it earns her a grumpy little cry from Mac to which she immediately reacts by stroking and repositioning the tiny infant’s head. “No need to complain, Mr. Mac. Mommy and daddy are just having some fun.”

“He’s bitter because all he got for Christmas is ‘Baby’s first Christmas’-ornaments.” Jake hasn’t stopped laughing since he opened the third ornament, from auntie Roro, which came after uncle Charles’ ornament. Upon unpacking this second ornament, from Charles, matching the first ornament from Holt, it didn’t cause much worry. The new parents simply saw it as a matching coincidence and they’d just keep both. Although upon unpacking a third one, they should’ve known: it was a perfect, hilarious 99th precinct-disaster.

Fast forward to present time, Jake is sat on the living room floor with not three but six ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornaments for his son. Sure, they’re all different styles and designs but Jake can’t help but laugh. In retrospect, he and Amy had told the squad that baby Mac didn’t need anything grand for Christmas as he was still so small and had everything he needed so far. They told their friends to save the money and spoil Mac for next Christmas, a Christmas he’d understand much better than the current. Turns out great minds think alike and everyone’s creative take on Mac’s gift had been the same.

“It’s kind of cute that they all had the same idea.” Mac has gone back to quietly suckling on Amy’s breast, allowing her time to chime in on perhaps this Christmas’ funniest moment yet. It’s too soon to declare it the funniest as they’re headed to a huge Santiago Christmas-dinner in the evening and anything can happen there.

For Christmas morning though they very early on, already before Amy gave birth, decided to stay home as they knew it’s what they’d prefer with their very new son. Sitting there, in the moment, looking at gifts from their incredible friends and Mac quietly eating in the lights coming from the Christmas tree, they’re both thankful to have made that choice. Sure, Santiago-Christmas morning was an event that you didn’t want to miss out on but this year, with very few hours of sleep behind them and vomit on both clothes and hair, it’s nice to be able to soak in the sweet surrender of their little trinity.

“We do have the best friends.” He picks up the ornaments, hanging them on his fingers to put on display for his wife. “What do we do with these?” A sheepish smile replaces the goofy grin from before.

“I don’t know…”

The doubt on Amy’s face, biting her lip, thinking hard, is clear as day which is understandable since Jake himself doesn’t hold the answer for their little dilemma. Giving them back to their respective giver is not an option - what would Holt do with a ‘Baby’s First Christmas Ornament’? - and getting a refund also seems too cold. Fact is that each of their friends has had the same idea: they wanted to mark and somehow be a part of Mac’s first Christmas. Jake and Amy can’t, nor want to, take that away from their son nor their friends. All in all, there seems to be no good solution but one: keep all six ornaments.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jake cocks an eyebrow, implicitly suggesting what his wife is already thinking.

“If you’re thinking that we should keep them all and put them on the tree, then yes, I am thinking what you’re thinking.”

At just the right time, almost as if he’s agreeing, Mac lets go of his mom’s nipple before letting out a small, hazy gurgling sound. A sound he’s never made before. Both parents freeze on the spot, forgetting all and everything about the ornament-issue.

“Did you hear that?” Amy asks, making it sound as if she doesn’t believe her ears and a second opinion is needed. Having studied all and everything for her first child’s arrival, everything this could possibly imply, Amy shouldn’t be surprised that her two-month-old is finally introducing his first small noises. The fact resides very clearly on the Milestones to Expect-index, page 2, in her ‘Two month’-binder. Yet here she is, Jake right there with her, surprised by this new accomplishment of her newborn - one of many accomplishments that she both loves and, even two months in, still is a bit nervous about discovering as she just rather know her baby fully by heart already. On those occasions where Mac’s changing, something she swears happens daily, makes her feel uneasy as if she doesn’t know him at all, she holds onto Jake’s reasoning: Some tests can’t be studied for.

And no matter how much she hates that fact, Amy knows her husband is right and she does love him for reminding her whenever she happens to fall down a spiral of doubt and frantically tries to grasp for the control that lies within facts, books, and lists.

Jake jumps from his spot on the floor as if it were lava and falls into place beside her on the couch where he can hover over his incredible son.

“I did but I didn’t fully realize where it came from right away, but oh my gosh, Ames! Our son is a genius!”

“Perhaps… Or simply in accordance with average-”

“No, Amy - a genius! Like his parents.”

Her husband looking as if he could burst any second, a firecracker of sorts and there’s no stopping the explosion, Amy hurries to put down her before lifted shirt and places Mac against her shoulder. Here she hopes he can both burp and, hopefully, make another glorious sound for them to be proud of. Jake leans in as though he and Mac are to exchange secrets behind Amy’s back and the milk-drunk infant, unable to control a whole lot, waves around his arm and just so happens to grab Jake’s index finger. During these first two months of Mac’s life, this has happened a few times already, the first time being at the hospital which caused Jake to cry happy tears Still, every single time, Jake feels reaffirmed by the fact that creating this tiny human being is one of his best decisions ever - that and telling Amy Santiago that he wished something could happen between them - romantic stylez.

“C’mon, mister. Show daddy how you talk.” Jake coos even though the little man of the moment seems far from interested in or bothered by his parents’ admiration and swooning over his new talent. His mommy patting his back does feel good though, especially when it helps a burp escape and Jake, of course, has to laugh because Mac is truly and fiercely his son. “Now that’s talking!”

“Not what I had in mind but nice to know he’s burped.” Amy chimes in and replaces the soft patting with small loving strokes, hoping to soothe her boy to sleep as the next step in his ‘eat, burp, sleep’-routine - even if Amy wishes Mac would make another sound. Just to confirm that she wasn’t hallucinating before.

“Make a sound for mommy, baby. Just a tiny one.” Amy takes her turn cooing a plea but it happens to be very much in vain.

“Aaand he’s dozed off,” Jake chuckles quietly whilst using his thumb to caress the tiny fist still wrapped around his index fingers, a fist that doesn’t let go even though the owner is already fast asleep with a mix of drool and milk caught in the corner of the gaping mouth.

“That was fast.”

“I don’t blame him. Life is exhausting.” Jake is carefully pecking his son’s head covered by thing, soft, black hair and even though Mac on her shoulder blocks the view, Amy smiles and wonders how she got to lucky with these two boys.

“Bedtime?” Amy asks, expectant of confirmation of whether or not Mac is far enough gone to be moved without waking up and throwing a tantrum that’ll mean they’ll have to spend another half hour or so lulling him back to sleep.

“I sure wouldn’t mind. I did prepare breakfast though.” It comes out mid-yawn, proving Jake’s point further, as he nods his head in the direction of the pancakes, courtesy of Jake, and hot cocoa, courtesy of the local bakery that has blessed their lives by opening at five AM, waiting for them in the kitchen.

“Not you, silly. McClane. You and I are definitely having that delicious cocoa. The smell of it has been tempting me since I sat down to feed.”

They mostly call him Mac. Mac or a thousand other things like Mr. Mac, Magic Mac, baby, monkey - one time, macadamia nut - and the options are limitless and renewed every day. Jake doesn’t know for sure but this might be the reason why the full name McClane being said, the context being that it’s his son’s name, makes him feel butterflies in his belly. Either that or because he still can’t believe they named their son that. Perhaps it’s a bit of both reasons.

“Still can’t believe you agreed to that name.”

“Must’ve been a moment of weakness for me. I was pregnant and delusional.”

Amy teases and proceeds to carefully remove sleeping Mac from his spot on her shoulder, relocating him to the safety of her cradling arms.

“Delusional from the incredible round of sexy timez we had just prior to picking his name.”

“Jake,” she scolds as if the sleeping baby, which doesn’t even grasp the concept of speaking yet, were to be scarred by their explicit flirting.

“What?”

Amy’s already up on her feet, heads down the hall and into their bedroom with Jake close on her heels. “I remember it so vividly.” Jake points to their bed. “We were right here, post incredible sex, and we got talking about baby names because a new suggestion had stroked your mind right before I came in and wooed you with my good, amazingly hot looks.” Amy’s head whips around from where’s she’s just focused on placing Mac in his cradle, double-checking that he’s still asleep, now displaying a cocked brow and overall expression that challenges his recollections of that conclusive night. Defeat hits him and his shoulders drop with a sigh.

“Okay, you were seven months pregnant and going through a particularly horny phase - which I, by the way, loved - and I, being a dutiful husband, couldn’t decline your explicit requests. But I do still stand by the fact that I boinked my way to the name McClane.”

“Oh my god,” Amy groans, partly in reaction to her husband, partly in reaction to her sore back making an appearance when she straightens up from tugging in the baby. “Stop besmearing our child’s name. I can still change my mind.”

“I’m right though.” In the meantime, Jake has approached his wife and wraps his arms around her. Pulling her closer, back to chest, and she instantly relaxes under the pecks he places on her neck. “And it’s an amazing name for an amazing little human.”

They smile in unison as they admire the life they created, carelessly and contently sleeping Christmas morning away, before them. Wrapped up in her husband’s arms and their perfect little son to look at, a fuzzy feeling that is way beyond and greater than happiness flows through Amy’s veins. The pecks to her sweaty and tired-feeling skin pick back up where they left off, systematically and how he knows she likes it, going around her neck and shoulder-area.

“I really wanna give in to how inappropriately horny you’ve suddenly made me, but…” she trails off with a sigh.

“You can’t stop thinking about the hot cocoa.” He finishes her sentence and the pecks are replaced by a muffled chuckle that tickles her skin. “It’s okay, Ames. I’m right there with you.”

“Thank God,” she groans.

“Hot cocoa and a Christmas movie we can fall back asleep to?”

This suggestion of Jake’s that will allow Amy to give into her tiredness is what she’s wanted to hear all morning.

“Sounds perfect. Grab the baby monitor?” She turns around to follow him back to their kitchen only to see him already holding the gadget with a tired, knowing smile plastered across his face and to Amy, even with his messy curls and shirt clad with stains of baby-vomit, her husband looks absolutely perfect.

Baby’s First Christmas might just be her favorite Christmas so far.

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tloujm · 4 years

Text

Part IV: I Was His & He Was Mine

Author’s Notes: The chapter is the calm before the storm. Now, as stated below, there be smut! This isn’t my first time writing smut and its sure as hell not my first time reading it. To be specific, I’ve written smut between two people before. This is my first attempt at a masturbation scene. Be warned, I’m not an expert, so take everything with a grain of salt. I hope you still enjoy though; I tried my best.

Genre: ahhhh sookie sookie now, things are smutty smutty now; but don’t worry, there’s some fluff too

Summary: You and Joel are officially a couple. Its basically three different imagines combined into one chapter. I tried to make them flow, but they’re really just glimpses into their domestically blissful lives.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Jackson survived another winter. Despite the harsh weather, it was probably the highlight of the year. It didn’t take long for people to notice that you and Joel were together. Tommy and Maria especially loved it. You always felt accepted by them, but now there was more of a familial bond. The four of you found time for more family dinners. You and Joel hosted Thanksgiving while Tommy and Maria took care of Christmas. Maybe you’re a hopeless romantic, but the winter time was sort of magical.

Joel asked you to move in soon after the two of you started seeing each other. It made no sense to keep going back and forth between beds especially when you two lived on the same property. You’d never got that far in a relationship before, so it was new, but with Joel it didn’t feel wrong. Everyday, he made sure you felt loved and there was nothing you wanted more than to show that same love back to him. You remembered the first time those precious three words were said. It was after the two of you had sex for the first time. He turned you around and spooned before draping the covers back over you. He asked if you were comfortable as his arm snaked over your middle. You said yes and kissed his knuckles. They were rough but warm. He was always so warm. Then, you said it. You couldn’t hold it back anymore and you weren’t afraid to be the first one. You held your tongue during sex because you didn’t want him to think it was just because of that. You wanted him to know that how you felt was real. Him saying it right back, though, sent your head reeling. You knew that he loved you but to hear him say it for the first time was exhilarating.

As the nights got warmer, the two of you would sit on the porch and play your respective instruments. It was mostly playful little strums but sometimes Joel would turn a little ditty into a full fledged song. He was gifted. You wished that it came as easily for you as it did him. You watched him play. He looked so at peace tapping his foot and bobbing his head to the rhythm. The melodic tune was so tranquil that it almost lulled you to sleep right there on the porch. If he hadn’t stopped, he probably would have had to carry your sleeping form to bed.

“Now, I want you to play me somethin’” He said.

“Who me?” You asked rhetorically. “I guess I could try.” You picked up your ukulele.

“That’s all I ask.” He said, setting his guitar down against the house.

“Um…” You tried to remember what he taught you about the guitar so you could apply it to your instrument. You played a few basic chords but when you tried to do something more complicated, the notes began to jumble and it all fell through.

“That’s startin’ to sound like somethin’.” He said encouragingly.

“Ugh, I suck.” You make a disgusted face.

“Nah, you just need to build up your calluses is all. Here, let me see your hands.” He gestured you over by patting his thighs. You got up from your rocking chair and sat on his lap. He took the Ukulele from your hand and sat it next to his guitar. “Like these.” He showed you his hands. You were well acquainted with them, but you enjoyed the closeness nonetheless. He unraveled the fist your hand naturally formed and gently slid his fingertips across your palm. “Your hands are too soft.”

“Oh? You want them rough like yours?” You playfully asked. He chuckled and shook his head. “Uhhhuhhh.”

“You’re getting better though.” He encouraged again. You grunt and shrug your shoulders. “Just remember what I said, keep your thumb---”

“Thumb behind the neck and use your fingertips and not your fingerpads.”

“Glad to see I’m gettin’ through to you.” He said sarcastically. You made a move to leave the porch but Joel’s arms tightened around your waist. “Now, where do you think you’re goin’?”

“I was going to put my ukulele up and call it a night.” You responded.

He dug his face into your shoulder. “Don’t go.” The words came out muffled but you still heard him. You moved your arms and wrapped them around his neck before laying your lips on his forehead.

“Then, I’ll stay.” And the two of you did for a few solid minutes.

“Y’know, when I was a kid,” He stopped and let out a breathy laugh. “I wanted to be a singer.”

“Shut up!” You laughed with him. “Really? Joel Miller, the singer? That’s sensational.”

“I’m serious.”

“I believe you! Sing for me.” You requested.

He shook his head and fiddled with a button on your shirt. “Uh, no.”

“I bet you sound really nice!” You said but he didn’t respond. “I won’t laugh. Please?” You beg in a voice Joel could only describe as adorable.

“Maybe another time.” He was serious. In truth, he was self conscious, even in front of you. Music had always been near and dear to him. It was one thing to share his guitar skills, but his voice was different. He knew he wasn’t the best singer, but when he was younger, he figured that if he could find a vocal coach, maybe he could actually be successful at it. He scoffed at his thoughts, as the dream seemed so distant now.

“Come to bed with me?” You asked in a whisper.

He smiled. “‘Course.” He kissed the arm still wrapped around his neck before tapping your thigh. You got up and grabbed both instruments. He opened the front door for you and turned off the porch light.

*****

Sometimes Joel’s patrol job could be a multi day excursion. Because of his level of experience, he was trusted with doing the longer, harsher routes. What gave you comfort was knowing that he wasn’t by himself out there. He never left without a group of two other equally experienced people. When you especially missed him, you would spend time in his craft room. That and his pillow reminded you of him the most. Today, you decided to relax in there. You grabbed a book from downstairs and settled down on the loveseat in his room. You only managed to get one page in before thoughts of him distracted you. It was not enough to be in his space, you had to imagine that he was there.

You looked up at his desk. It was covered in sawdust and unfinished figurines. He would make them for the children in the community. Despite his cold exterior, he had a soft spot for kids. Toys were often not a priority when scavenging, so they were grateful for the things he’d make. It was a win-win. The kids got to be kids and Joel got to keep his hands busy. What couldn’t that man do with his hands? You smiled at the thought. His passion project was building a guitar from scratch, though. He used the one that he found as a model. Various parts of the guitar were strewn across the table. Looking at the curved edges of the guitar’s body made you think back to when he first sanded them down. His hands skimmed the surface; top to bottom. His muscles flexed through the motions. You let out a little whimper before changing positions in the loveseat. If you weren’t facing the table, thoughts of him couldn’t distract you. Or at least that’s what you wanted to think. Soon enough, you learned that that was far from the truth. Giving up, you sat the book down and went to your shared room.

You gently closed the door behind you. The pants were the first to come off, then it was your shirt. You crawled into the middle of your bed with nothing but your underwear on. You allowed your hands to caress different parts of your body. Closing your eyes, you imagined that they were his. Your smaller, softer hands could not compare, however. Still, you continued your blind search. Your hands quickly found themselves down your panties and to your clit. You massaged it for a few moments before turning over on your knees. You grabbed two pillows and lined them up before straddling one between your thighs. Arching your back, you began to grind to maintain the sensation. Your hips quickly found a rhythm while your hands slid under your bra. You rubbed and squeezed your breasts like he would. Your body was becoming more sensitive and you were determined to ride out the sensation. Within seconds, the clasp was released and your bra was tossed to the side. As your body moved up and down the pillows, your nipples dragged against the bed. You slipped a hand down your middle as you began to pulsate. You rubbed circles around your clit before abandoning the pillows altogether. You slid over to the edge of the bed and started to grind over the corner. You squeezed your thighs with every stroke. With your face planted on the bed, you slid your other fingers into your entrance. You contracted around them for several moments longer until the built up pressure finally released.

Your favorite part of being with Joel was the end. You would keep him hostage inside you every time you closed around him. You could see the struggle in his face as he fought off the impulse to cum inside you. As an erotic contraceptive, he would spill onto your stomach instead. After getting yourself off, you found yourself missing that part. You found yourself missing him. You climbed back onto the bed and cuddled the pillows, one between your legs and the other hugged by your arms. It was such a comfortable feeling that you soon fell asleep.

*****

For Joel, today was just like any other day. He woke up next to you, took a shower, made breakfast and waited for you to wake so you could eat together. Even though the routine appeared mundane on paper, he was more than content. He was happy and it was because of you. He never said it out loud, even in front of you, but he was afraid of being alone again. Not the kind of alone where you’re reading a book by yourself or eating in the corner of the bar at a table for one. He’d grown accustomed to going through life alone after the infection. His family had fallen apart and he had to learn how to fend for himself. He even learned how to benefit from being alone after a while. It wasn’t until he crossed paths with you and reunited with his brother that he realized how being alone truly made him feel and he did not ever want to go back to that. At times, he found himself paranoid over losing you again. He fought those thoughts by reminding himself that you were here with him. You loved him back and it made his heart swell, almost to the point of breaking; a feeling he hadn’t experienced in at least a decade.

“Hey, I was gonna make breakfast today.” You protested as you came downstairs. You followed the smell of eggs, buttered toast and freshly squeezed orange juice.

“I was already up.” Joel said nonchalantly.

“See, that’s your problem. You don’t let yourself sleep in.” You playfully accuse.

He chuckled. “I can’t sleep in,” He pushed your plate toward you. “I have work today.”

“Today? I thought you were off.”

He shook his head. “Nathan asked me to cover him in his scavenging group yesterday. His son is sick and Sheila’s still on patrol…” He faded out before stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth.

“Oh.” You said. Joel noticed the wheels moving in your head.

“You can join us today. I know you like scavenging and we could use another good shot.” Joel offered.

“I would love to, but I can’t. I promised Donna I’d help her in the gardens.” It was a lie. You were usually not opposed to lying, especially since it has saved your ass multiple times when traveling. After starting a relationship with Joel, you’d become more conscious about lies and you didn’t want to be hypocritical. It was just a little white lie which you deemed ok, however.

“Oh. Well, I’ll miss you.” He said as he got up. He walked over and lifted your chin before kissing you. “Save me a couple of apples?”

You nodded with a smile. “Of course.”

“And not one of those green ones.”

“I know, you like the dark red ones.” You said. He matched your smile, thinking about how much he appreciated you, even with the little things. You waved as he left for the day.

You cleaned the dishes, wondering what to do now. You had the whole day planned out for you and Joel. Of course, you hadn’t told him this the day before. You were convinced that his day would stay open. Why would he work today of all days? You were just going to have to rearrange some things for when he came back from the scavenging trip. After the kitchen was cleaned, you got ready for the day and went down to the gardens to get his apples.

Later that evening, Joel came back home. It was dark inside the house. Joel flipped the switch. Your name caught in his throat as he found you sleeping on the couch. He was glad that he saw you when he did because he was ready to yell out your name. Joel had gotten home later than planned. The scavenging group arrived back in Jackson after dark, but it was still too early to find you sleeping. Joel was usually the first to fall asleep between you two. You were the night owl and he was the morning bird.

You woke up as he slung your arms around his neck. He was going to carry you to bed but you protested as soon as you gained consciousness. He was surprised at how quickly you woke up and sat you back down on the couch.

“Joel!” You woke up startled. “Shit, what time is it?” Napping had always disoriented you. Seeing the darkness from the windows didn’t help. You looked around for the clock.

“Quarter to ten. Sorry I’m late, darlin’. There was this store that we couldn’t pass up on our route but it took some extra work to get into.”

“Oh,” There’s still time, you thought to yourself. “That’s alright. As long as you’re back safe.” You began to get giddy with excitement. Joel smiled at how you cared. He let his body fall onto the couch, slumping into the cushions.

He stretched his arm out around your shoulder just as you got up. “Hey, where you goin’ now?” He frowned.

“I’ll be right back!” You ran into the dining room and back within record time. You came back with a big box in your hands.

He looked up at it with tired eyes. “What’s this?”

“Happy Birthday, my love.” You said, holding the box out for him to take.

He shook his head with a smile. “How did you know about that?”

“So you can know about mine, but I can’t know about yours?” You asked playfully. “I asked Tommy awhile back.”

“You coulda just asked me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I had the whole day planned out as a surprise but then…” You faded off.

“Sorry, (Y/N). If I would have known, I would have said no to Nathan.”

“Well, that would have ruined the point of the surprise, silly. Now, just open your gift.” You demand excitedly. You knew he was going to be happy with it.

“Yes, Ma’am.” A look of confusion crossed his face as he took it in his hands. “Seems kinda light for such a big box.”

“All part of the surprise to throw you off.”

He did as he was told and you watched as his face went through a multitude of expressions. “Um...Is this what I think it is, darlin’?” Joel held up a blunt between his fingers.

“That is exactly what you think it is.” You gave him a mischievous smile.

“Where did you find weed?”

“God, you wouldn’t believe.” You shook your head. “It was from Eugene!” His eyes widened. “Yeah, during the winter, me and my patrol group had to make a detour because of the weather, so we found this building that appeared abandoned but it looked like Eugene beat us to it. He turned the whole basement into a garden of marijuana plants. I fucking swear. He had rolling papers there, so I rolled two and took them with me.”

“How do you know it was Eugene’s?” He asked, twiddling it between his fingers.

“I recognized some of his stuff around the place.”

“You showed your patrol group this?”

“We had to wait out a whole blizzard. How do you think we killed our time?” Another slick smile crossed your face to which Joel playfully shook his head. “Don’t worry, we made sure to leave no evidence that we were ever there...other than the missing blunts. We swore each other to secrecy, but I figured I’d make a little exception for my baby on his birthday.”

Joel chuckled. “You’re too kind, darlin’.” He took a whiff of the blunt before setting it back down for later. “Now, this.” He pulled out a glass jar with a worn label, smiling ear to ear. He was speechless.

“You like it?” You knew he did.

He glared at you sarcastically. “How did you find coffee beans?”

“I picked up a few scavenging shifts of my own a while back. We were inside this large house and the person who owned it must have loved coffee too because this is good quality stuff right here. Look at that label, or what’s left of it. It looks fancy!”

“That it does.”

“And I traded for this mortar and pestle right here,” You reached inside the box. “When that group passed through last month, remember?” He nodded before looking back up at you. “I figured you could use it to grind the beans. It's stone, so hopefully it’ll hold up well.”

“Mmmhmm.” He hummed in agreement. You looked back at him and smiled. “Thank you, baby. I love it all.” The way he looked at you so genuinely mingled with his deep, Texas drawl? You almost lost it.

“You’re welcome, my love.” You cupped his bearded cheek and kissed him. You gently pushed away before it could go deeper. “What do you say we leave the coffee ‘til the morning and light up now?” You gesture toward the blunt on the coffee table.

Without words, Joel reached into his back pocket and pulled out his lighter. Your grin grew as you held the blunt up to his flame. You were about to take a drag, but you turned the blunt around and placed it between his lips. You told him that it was his birthday, so he got to have the first puff. For the rest of the hour, the two of you passed it back and forth before putting out the stub in the mortar. The two of you became a fit of coughs and laughter which lasted well into the night. You didn’t know about Joel, but it hit you harder than you thought it would. The two of you ate through all of the fruit in the bowl on the counter and the homemade granola bars you made the other day.

You were picking with the granola crumbs on your shirt when you caught Joel looking at you a certain way. You were not a stranger to this look. You licked the crumbs off your fingers and squinted your eyes in playful curiosity. A coy smile grew on your face to match his. Joel patted his lap. He didn’t have to ask twice. You crawled on top and his face was immediately glued to yours. You grinded over his jeans as your fingers snaked through his hair. His tongue entered your mouth and danced with yours. The air was filled with nothing but panting and moans. You lifted up to unzip his pants and pulled him out of his underwear. You licked the palm of your hand before reaching back down and wrapping your fingers around his member. It was a slow and gentle stroke at first. Your thumb ran over the precum from the head and dragged it all the way down. As his breathing became more and more shallow, you began to tug faster. Your eyes were locked on him. You reached your other hand down to fondle the rest. He twitched in your hands; you could feel what was coming. It was only a matter of moments before he released all over his shirt and your hand. He rested his head back against the couch. You helped him remove his button down and put it in the dirty laundry. Shirtless and pants undone, he grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs to bed.

#TLOU #TLOU 2 #tlou joel #tlou part 2 #joel miller #joel #fanfic #fanfiction #joel x reader #OC #reader insert #The Last of Us #Joel Miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel/reader

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dontmindthefangirling · 5 years

Note

Omg I’m so glad I found your account I love it so much 😍 can you do a sad/fluffy Tom Holland fic based off the song Hoodie by Hey Violet? I heard it on the radio and thought you’d do an amazing fic for it

omg I love that song! i hope i did it justice :)

I highly recommend listening to this song!!

Hoodie {t.h.}

Warnings: angst, fluff

this was so much longer than i intended, but enjoy!

Rain pelted the windows of your apartment as you padded through your kitchen, holding a mug of tea between your cold hands. The gloomy clouds only matched your mood as you set your tea down on the table. It was normal London weather, and you rather liked rainy days, however you were particularly cold for this day.

You wondered if your landlord even put the heat on. Probably not, to save costs. It was unusually cold for a day in the spring.

You were only in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, so you walked towards your room to find a change of clothes. You glanced at your unmade bed when you walked in and let out a deep sigh. You hated sleeping alone, especially ever since him.

Swinging the doors open to your closet, you rummaged through some of your sweatpants pulling out your worn out gray pair and slipping them on over your cold legs. You then began going through your sweatshirts, having to skip the first three because you couldn’t wear gray on gray.

But then your fingers froze.

A familiar navy blue hoodie hung in your closet, almost like it was hiding behind the rest of your clothes, and a lump instantly formed in your throat. Your fingers grazed the material and all you could think about was him.

“What are you looking at?” you asked while coloring in the outline of Big Ben in your ‘adult’ coloring book that Tom had bought you for Christmas. Your lips were curled up in a smile, and you weren’t looking at him, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“You,” he responded, nonchalantly. You stopped coloring and looked up, meeting his twinkling brown eyes.

“I can see that,” you chuckled.

“You just look adorable in my clothes,” Tom said with a shrug.

Instantly, your cheeks flushed, and you let out a laugh, embarrassed that even after a year of dating, he still made you flustered.

“They’re comfy,” you chided, hugging yourself with the oversized sleeves. Tom laughed before scooting closer to you on the couch.

“I’d rather you hug me than my clothes,” Tom pouted, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest. You smiled and turned towards him, capturing his lips in a kiss.

“You can hug me anytime, babe,” you said with a grin.

Tom chuckled, and you felt his chest vibrate beneath you while he pressed a kiss to your hair.

You hadn’t put on that hoodie in weeks, ever since you and Tom broke up about two months ago. Looking at the navy material, your heart twisted in a way that almost caused you to cry. You hadn’t cried over Tom in a while, and you were proud of yourself for it, but touching the sweatshirt made your mind flash back to all of the good times.

You pulled the hoodie from your closet and instantly got a whiff of Tom’s cologne. The scent instantly brought you back to the first time he had hugged you.

You and Tom had been friends for a little while, both having a mutual friend in Harrison, and one night he invited you to go to the bars with him and Tom. Harrison had told you it was a casual thing, and you showed up, somewhat nervous but you didn’t know why.

You always knew you thought Tom was attractive, but seeing him lean against the bar with Harrison, laughing at something his friend had said, made your heart flip.

You spent the night by Tom’s side, even when Harrison left to flirt with someone at the other end of the bar. You and Tom spent the night laughing with one another, and neither of you acknowledge the gradual inching closer to each other, so much so until Tom’s arm was brushing yours.

At the end of the night, Tom led you out of the bar before Harrison.

“We should hang out some time,” he said with a shy smile.

“We hang out all the time, Tom,” you pointed out, furrowing your eyebrows. Tom’s cheeks flushed and he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet.

“I meant…without, uh, Harrison,” he said.

You instantly blushed when you realized what he meant, but when he looked back up and met your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’d like that,” you said.

Tom grinned from ear to ear, until a car pulled up that had been valeted for you.

“That’s me,” you gestured to the car, and before you could react, Tom pulled you into a hug. His arms were strong, and he smelled like mint and the ocean mixed together in one and you realized that right then and there you wanted to spend the rest of your life in his arms.

You laughed bitterly at the memory. You had been so hopeful. So naive.

But holding his hoodie in your arms, and the lingering scent that you loved so much, you couldn’t help but slip it on over your cold body. Almost instantly, you felt warmer than you did before. You hugged yourself with the oversized sleeves like you had done before, but Tom wasn’t there to tell you that you looked adorable.

You didn’t realize you were crying until your vision became blurry with your tears. You laid down on your bed, curling your legs to your chest, as Tom’s hoodie was a blanket enough, and closed your eyes as silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

Wearing his sweatshirt made you feel a little bit closer to him, even though you had never been further apart. You didn’t know why you kept the hoodie, maybe because you were hopeful that he would come back to you one day. That was a big maybe.

The last two months had been absolute hell, and every time you opened your eyes, you were hoping to see Tom laying next to you, sleeping soundly with one arm draped over your waist like he used to do.

Wearing his hoodie in that moment had never been more comforting and hurtful at the same time.

But with the rain outside and the warmth and smell of Tom’s hoodie, you were lulled to sleep.

“It’s not fair to either one of us, (Y/N),” Tom said, his voice level. You didn’t know how he was being so calm when he literally just came home to your shared apartment and told you he thinks you should break up.

You were staring at him, wide eyes in shock and tears threatening to spill over your very fragile eyes.

“You’re serious?” you asked in disbelief. You were amazed you found your voice.

Tom ran a hand through his hair, like he normally did when he was stressed, but he looked so fucking calm that it was driving you insane.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” he finally said, daring to look up and meet your broken gaze.

“Well, you’ve clearly thought about this a lot!” you snapped suddenly. How could he be acting so nonchalant. What, almost two years of being together wasn’t enough?

“(Y/N)-”

“No! You just walk in and the first thing you say to me is that we should break up? This is brand new news to me! You completely blindsided me, Tom!”

Tom sat down on the couch and tugged at his curls, groaning in the process as he looked down at the ground. You could see his body shaking, but your feet were stuck to the ground and you began chewing on the strings of your- his hoodie, a nervous habit that you had.

“I don’t want this,” he said, finally looking up.

“Then don’t do it.”

“I have to.”

“Why?!”

You were angry now. You had been sitting on the couch, reading one of your favorite books when Tom came in looking disheveled. You knew something was wrong from the moment he said hello to you, but now he was throwing this at you? Just last night he was telling you how much he loved you, how the fuck was that fair?

“Because what kind of boyfriend can I be for you when I’m traveling all over the world!” he said, standing up suddenly from the couch.

“You know I told you that it doesn’t bother me,” you said shakily. “We FaceTime, we text, we call-”

“It bothers me!,” Tom exclaimed, clenching his fists by his side.

You were taken aback by this, as you never stopped to think about how he was feeling about the long distance relationship. You were always the one he said he was leaving behind, and you always tried to assure him that you were okay, and that you missed him, sure, but this was his dream.

Apparently, you weren’t a part of that dream.

“Oh,” was all you could manage to say. An awful silence fell in between you, and you were stuck standing in front of him, chewing nervously on his hoodie strings while he stared at his feet.

“I just,” Tom began, running a hand down his face. “I can’t keep doing this.”

You looked to the floor now, as the tears suddenly began to fall. He was serious about this. It was over.

“Okay,” you almost whimpered as you began walking towards your shared bedroom.

“(Y/N), where are you going?” Tom called after you. You had already begun packing up your things when Tom finally followed you into the bedroom. The look of hurt on his face when he saw you packing was enough to cause more tears to fall from your eyes.

“You don’t have to leave,” Tom sighed.

“Then what, Tom?” you shouted. “Just stay here while we’re broken up? I don’t think so.”

“Where are you going to go then?” Tom asked gently. You didn’t want his sympathy now. You were too hurt to even look at him.

“I’ll stay at my friend’s house,” you grumbled, as you continued to pack. You wanted him to so badly intervene and stop you.

But he didn’t.

And you left his apartment without another word as tears flowed down your cheeks and you flagged down a cab, still wearing his navy hoodie.

You woke with a start, and realized you had been clutching onto his hoodie. The rain had stopped, but clouds still loomed over the city like a blanket. You sat up and stretched your legs.

You had to stop thinking about him, but at the same time, you loved the comfort you received just from his one stupid hoodie. How could he still have such an effect on you?

Standing from your bed, you yawned and slipped on your shoes before walking towards the door. You needed some air.

The London air smelled of fresh rain, a smell that usually comforted you, but you could still smell Tom’s scent on the hoodie, and it was harder to enjoy the musky post-rain smell.

You didn’t have a particular location in mind, but you knew you had to get out of your apartment, so you shoved your hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt and began walking. There weren’t a lot of people out considering the wetness left over from the rain, but you preferred it this way. No one could see how disheveled you looked.

You decided to walk towards Hyde Park, considering the park always calmed you, especially with it being somewhat empty. You smiled as you looked at the blooming flowers, running your fingers along the wet petals. Before you could continue your walk, you heard panting, from a…dog?

An all too familiar Blue Staffy scared you out of your thoughts by running out behind you. You yelped when you looked down, but when you saw the dog’s collar, your heart leaped into your throat. It was as if she recognized you from far away, or maybe she smelled her owner’s scent on the clothes you wore. Regardless, you froze as Tessa began sniffing your leg, and especially when you heard his fucking voice.

“Tess!” his called, jogging over. “I’m so sorry about that, miss-”

Tom froze when you turned towards him. “(Y/N)?”

Hearing him say your name sent a whole new wave of emotions through your body and you were too scared to meet his eyes so you just bent down and patted Tessa on the head.

“Hi Tom,” you murmured, standing and shoving your hands back in the pockets of the sweatshirt.

“What-…what are you, uh, doing here?” Tom asked, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. Your head shot up and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I live in this city too, you know,” you said, harsher than you were expecting. But you wished you hadn’t looked up and met his eyes because seeing him so close after so long made your stomach flip. You were surprised, however, because quite honestly, he looked just as bad as you did.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Tom mumbled, keeping his eyes on you. His eyes eventually flickered down to your attire, and you almost missed the way his lips tried to tug into a smile.

“Is that my-”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell between you, the only sound of Tessa’s sniffing of the grass around you.

“You can have it back if you want,” you said, secretly hoping he wouldn’t want it back, but it was technically his.

“No! No,” Tom said quickly. “I mean…no, that’s okay. You, uh, you can keep it.”

You just nodded, looking down at your feet again, not sure what to say now. Apparently Tom felt the same, because the last time you had spoken to one another was when you stormed out of his apartment with your bag of clothes and his hoodie.

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered, breaking the silence.

“For what?” you grumbled.

“For everything.”

You slowly raised your head and noticed the bags under his eyes. He looked beyond tired, and his skin was paler than you would have liked to see. You were sure you didn’t look much better.

“I should probably go,” you murmured. You weren’t sure if you wanted to have this conversation because of the pain it caused you. You didn’t want him to hear how he loved you but you couldn’t be together because of his career. You didn’t want to see the eyes you fell in love with, and you really didn’t want to cry again.

“Okay,” Tom whispered. “Yeah, I should too.”

But neither of you moved. It was like your feet wouldn’t let you.

“I miss you,” he whimpered, his voice cracking. You shook your head, hugging yourself again because if you looked at him, you would cry too.

“Please, don’t,” you cried. “I can’t-”

“I made a mistake, (Y/N),” Tom pleaded, taking a step toward you, only to be hurt by the way you took a step back. “I messed up.”

“You hurt me so badly, Tom,” you cried, looking up at him. Your eyes were brimmed with tears, but you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes were red from possible previous crying.

“I know,” Tom sighed. “I know, and I know sorry doesn’t cut it, but I need you in my life, (Y/N). It just isn’t the same without you.”

“You seemed like you made up your mind two months ago,” you grumbled, shivering slightly by a short breeze. Tom ran his hands through his curls again and let out a shaky breath.

“That was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made,” Tom whispered. He took another step towards you, and this time you didn’t back away. “I’m not asking for you to take me back, at least not right away, but please, let me fix things.”

You could smell his cologne from where you stood, and this time it wasn’t from his hoodie. You wanted to so badly hug him from where you stood, but your heart was still guarded.

“I want to fix things,” you agreed softly, and a smile instantly broke out onto Tom’s face. “But I need time. I can’t just jump right back into dating like we were because I can’t get hurt like that again Tom, I just can’t.”

Tom nodded. “You can have all the time you want, love.”

Hearing him call you that sent more mixed emotions running through your veins and you had to look down so he wouldn’t see the blush that dusted your cheeks. When you looked back up, you met his eyes again.

“If we start as friends again,” you said softly. “And work our way from there?”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

“Would you like to, uh, maybe catch up over coffee or something? At one of the cafes downtown?” Tom suggested. The nerves were apparent in his voice, and it only made your heart swell. But you were quick to remind yourself; friends first, then work your way up from there.

“Sure,” you said with a gentle smile. “Does Saturday work?”

“It’s a date.”

You blushed at his words and nodded, confirming what time you would see him and then you both parted your separate ways to head to your separate homes. You shoved your hands in his hoodie again as you walked back to your apartment.

It wasn’t going to be the same. But it was a start.

#tom holland #tom hollander #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Bad Dreams

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 19428

Summary: In a state of nightmare induced sleep deprivation, Simon tries a new spell, and it leads to unexpected, terrible results. Can he work with his worst enemy to fix it? Based on "there's only one bed and we wake up cuddling" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Hello! I'm so sorry this took so long. Basically my life has been a mess for weeks. Furiously job hunting, bad headaches, not sleeping well, and a new medication that gave me some really bad side effects. I could only write about a page a day for a week, which is very low for me, and it became longer than intended. But I finished it! Thanks to @carryonmylovelies for her endless support and invaluable help. This fic wouldn't exist without her, and I mean that. Now hope you guys like this :)

———————————————

Simon

“Pen,” I yawn, “what are we doing out here?” I’m rubbing my eyes like a toddler. I didn’t sleep well last night, or the night before. (I don’t sleep well any night, really.) But usually I’m taking a shower or in bed by now. But Pen has dragged me outside into the fall chill tonight for some reason.

“To work on ‘all parts make the whole’,” she replies, like it’s totally obvious we should be doing this, even though the drawbridge is closing in twenty minutes.

“Why?”

She looks at me over her glasses. “Do you not remember today in elocution class?”

My faces goes a bit red. I rub the back of my neck. “I didn’t mean to make the vase go all...goopy...”

“I know, Simon,” she sighs. “That’s why you should practice.”

“What’s even the point of this spell?” I grumble.

“To fix things, put them back together and all.”

“Isn’t that what ‘as you were’ is for?”

“‘As you were’ works best for things that have just been broken. This spells is for stuff that’s been really badly broken for awhile. And I’ve got the perfect thing.”

She pulls out a checkered napkin and lays it on a tree stump. A bunch of random shiny silver pieces and hot pink plastic spread out around the fabric. At first I think she brought a bunch of random junk, but despite what a certain vampire thinks, I’m not a total idiot. When I see little black arrows, I realise what it is.

“How long have you been holding on to a bunch of broken watch pieces, Pen?”

“It’s not mine,” she scoffs. “It’s Pacey’s. He stepped on it a year ago and it’s been sitting in his junk drawer ever since. He’s a bloody hoarder, never throws anything out.”

“And you have it because...?”

“Snatched it up at Christmas for practice. Thought it would be for me, but it’s perfect for you. Now,” she points at the broken pieces, “put it back together, Simon”

I chew on my lip and spin my wand. It’s clumsy and slow like everything I do with my wand. I just hope I don’t blow anything up today. I don’t want to hurt Penny. Slowly, I point the already glowing tip of my wand down at the pieces.

“All the parts make the whole!” I say, not with too much magic so I won’t destroy the entire woods. But apparently it isn’t enough to actually, y’know, do the spell. The magic fizzles out like a faulty firecracker. I shake my arm, trying to put more magic out, but nothing. I frown and I feel like a little kid, but I can’t help it. Years later, and it’s still a bit disappointing that I’m such a shite mage.

“Hm,” Penny says thoughtfully, rubbing her chin, “wonder what’s blocking up your power.”

“When is it not blocked up?” I grumble.

“Well, when you go off I guess.”

Dammit, she’s right. Either I explode or nothing happens at all. I slump forward with a pout. Agatha says I slouch too much and it’s going to ruin my posture. Well, that is, she used to. Until we broke up last week. That wound is still a bit raw.

I feel Penny’s arm wrap around mine. She presses her cheek against my shoulder. It’s nice when she does that. It’s nice to know she’s not afraid of me.

“You’ll get it eventually, Si,” she says kindly.

I lean on top of her head. “Thanks, Pen.”

I really am grateful, but fuck, I wish I could believe her.

———————————————

I'm slowly working my way through the requests, but I'm starting my new job next week so it may be a bit of a wait for the next one. See y'all again hopefully soon :D

When I get back to my room, I’m hoping to just toss the napkin sack of watch parts in a corner and go to bed. But of course he’s there, sitting at his desk, doing his homework like some goody two shoes. Acting like he isn’t an evil plotting vampire.

“What’s that Snow?” he asks, grey eyes fixed on the tied up napkin. “Your hobo sack?”

I’ve had a long day, filled with failing at magic classes then failing at Penny’s spell, so I’m far, far too tired to deal with Baz’s bollocks. So I just make a noise at him and stomp towards my bed. He scoffs very loudly.

“Eloquent as ever, I see.”

“Fuck off,” I growl.

“Oh, two words, a Simon Snow rarity. I feel so honoured.”

Though part of me really wants to yell or punch him, I’m too tired to start a fight. Plus the stupid Anathema. And I need a shower. So I just throw the watch pieces into my pile of laundry, snatch up some mostly clean pyjama pants, and my towel. Baz can go eat his stupid homework for all I care.

The shower is really nice. The warm water is really relaxing, making all my tense muscles slowly unwind. I had a really bad nightmare last night. It was a familiar one though. I was back in the care home and I went off, but this time everyone wasn’t safe. They all burned. Because of me. And I had to watch.

I shake the images out of my head, then finish washing up. I’m almost tempted to use some of Baz’s fancy products to treat myself, but he’ll smell it. Stupid rich vampire with his stupid vampire senses. Maybe the day before graduation I’ll swipe some shampoo, just as one last “fuck you” to the guy who’s made my life hell for over seven years. Petty as fuck but effective in my opinion.

I get out before the water turns cold and towel off. My hair doesn’t get fully dry. It never does, it’s so bloody thick. It holds more water than a sponge. I make I’ve got my trousers on before I go outside. Despite living together for so long, Baz and I have never been naked in front of each other. I’m not changing that any time soon.

When I get out, Baz is sitting on his bed, back against the wall, holding a book. It’s some weird nonfiction shit that I can’t even fathom being entertaining. His eyes flick up to me.

“Finally,” he says flatly. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry I kept you waiting, your majesty,” I grumble.

“As you should be. I shouldn’t suffer because the Chosen One needs to get off in the shower.”

My entire face goes tomato red. Holy shit, I cannot believe he just said that. I want to say something mean rude in return, but no words come out as usual. I’m just gaping at Baz like a bright scarlet fish. He just keeps glaring at me, totally unfazed by his implication that I was fucking wanking in the shower with him right there.

“F-Fuck off,” I say, far too weakly to make any impact, then turn around. Fuck, he might think he’s actually right. He’s not, I’m just too tired and shocked and embarrassed to fight him. I hate that Baz can do this to me. Make me feel even more wordless and stupid than I already feel all the time.

I hang up my towel, toss my clothes in my overflowing hamper, and flop down heavily on my bed. I stare at the blank wall so I don’t have to look at Baz. I hear him get up from his bed and pad his way over to the bathroom then close the door. Like he’s one to complain about taking long in the bathroom. He always spends twenty minutes just washing his stupid perfect face. I close my eyes tight, and try to force myself to sleep. Hopefully the nightmares won’t be too bad tonight.

———————————————

Baz

The second the bathroom door is closed, I allow myself to panic. I press a hand to my erratic heartbeat and take a shaky breath. Merlin, Morgana, and Methuselah, what the everloving fuck is wrong with me?! Why did I say that?! Why did I imply that Snow was wanking in the shower out loud?! Of course I was thinking about it, much to my eternal shame. But then I fucking said it!

I’m usually so much better. I’ve spent years building up my self control, especially when it comes to bloody Snow. I must be far too tired. My nightmares have been waking me up in the middle of the night, then I toss and turn for hours.

(When I’m particularly weak from exhaustion, I stare at Snow. Sometimes watching the slow movement of his chest lulls me back into slumber. It’s just his breathing, the steady, calming rhythm of it, nothing to do with him. At least that’s what I try to tell myself.)

I lean back on the door, thumping my head against it as softly as possible. As if being a vampire wasn’t bad enough, I’m completely disastrous just as a person. I couldn’t at least be a wise or courageous blood sucking monster. No, I’m a pathetic one who lets his unfortunate crush know he thinks about him wanking then goes and panics in the toilet, all because he lost a bit of sleep. The universe is never kind to me.

Enough whining, Basil, I can almost hear Fiona say, Pitches don’t mope. Well, this Pitch does, but she would be right. There’s no point in staying here forever, even though I would like to. I push myself off the door and go to the sink. Snow thinks my nightly routine takes far too long. He doesn’t understand the trials of proper skincare and dental hygiene. (Considering Snow’s sugary diet and the fact that he only spends thirty seconds brushing in the morning, I’m surprised all his perfect teeth haven’t fallen out yet.) (Wonderful lucky idiot.)

Once I’m done, it’s time to re-enter my personal hell, which is always wherever Snow is. I cautiously stick my head out, and to my relief, Snow is asleep. He’s facing the opposite wall, curled up in his usual knot. With my vampire vision, I can see his face in the dark. It’s all twisted up in anguish. Nightmares, again. I wish I could walk over there and somehow kiss all his bad dreams away. Not that he would want me to. Not that I even could. I’m a dark creature designed to kill. Not exactly made to comfort.

I silently walk over to bed. Luckily I was able to feed after supper, so I’ll sleep easy tonight. Well, as easy as I can. I lay down and pull up all my blankets. I take one last glance at Snow’s broad, freckled back, then reluctantly look back at the bland wall. I slip into slumber too, listening to the faint sound of Snow’s breathing.

———————————————

Simon

It’s burning. The White Chapel, the Cloisters, Mummer’s House, everything. I stand completely still on the great field surrounded by fire. All of watford is burning, and it’s all my fault.

“You did this, Simon,” Penny says. She’s suddenly standing right in front of me. She’s not smiling or frowning. Her face is blank. And that’s somehow worse.

“I-I didn’t mean to!” I try to yell, but my voice is so small.

“But you did, Simon.” The Mage is here too now. His arms are crossed over his chest. He looks down on me like he always does.

“It was an accident!”

“Accident or not, it doesn’t matter.” He glares harder, blue eyes like icy daggers. “You should learn to control yourself better.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I sob. Tears are flowing freely down my face. “I-I- I can’t- What do-”

“Use your words, Snow,” Baz hisses, a sneer on his lips. I try to talk, but my voice is completely gone. Baz rolls his eyes. “Truly the worst Chosen One that’s ever been chosen.”

I keep trying and trying to speak but it’s hopeless. I hear a childish giggle, but it sounds wrong. Warped, weird, pure evil. I look up. Sitting on the burning White Chapel is him, and he looks like, tossing my old red ball.

“Looks like you did my job for me,” the Humdrum chirps, “thanks, Simon.”

I scream. But no sound comes out as the fire engulfs me.

———————————————

I wake up with a gasp. My limbs feel heavy, unable to move. I have to lay there panting, tears streaming down my face, while my body comes back online. It’s a freaky feeling to be frozen like that. But eventually, I’m able to twitch a finger, and sensation slowly creeps through my body. I let out a long sigh and stretch out in a arch. I blink the gum away from my eyes to see faint light. From the looks of it, it’s barely six am. And I feel like absolute shit. It’s like I didn’t sleep at all, again. Fucking hell, today is going to suck, again.

I get out of bed and accidentally knock into quite a bit of furniture as I stumble to the bathroom. I hear a groan from the lump of blankets that’s supposedly Baz. He hates when I wake him up. Well, I didn’t ask to share a room with his posh vampiric arse, so he can just fucking deal with it.

When I’m done in the bathroom, Baz is already up. He’s rubbing his face up and down, then he glares at me. Are there bags under his eyes? Guess he had nightmares too. We both have them, it kind of sucks.

“Did I take too long again?” I grumble.

Baz scowls. “I thought heroes were supposed to be all compassionate and shit, yet you always wake me up at the ass crack of dawn.”

I scowl right back. “I thought vampires slept in coffins.”

He scoffs, though he looks so tired it loses a bit of impact. “I don’t know about that, Snow, go ask one.”

He grabs his perfectly folded uniform and stands up, knocking my shoulder as he passes. Apparently, my magic decides to flare up in anger at that exact moment, because Baz jolts away with a furious look on his face.

“Control yourself, Chosen One,” he growls. “Crowley, your magic is so useless.”

It’s too early for me to come up with another retort, so I just focus on getting dressed. Baz scoffs unkindly then goes back to the bathroom. Once he’s gone, I allow myself to fall into a bit of self pity. I hate it but he’s right. I’m useless at magic. I’m a terrible mage. I can’t control my power or even cast a bloody spell. And one day, I’m going to burn everything to the ground.

I get dressed as quickly as possible. (Don’t want Baz to see me, duh.) When he comes out, he’s got his hair slicked back and uniform all pristine. He gives me one last sneer, grabs his bookbag, and stomps off. I don’t know where the fuck he’s going. Breakfast isn’t for another half hour. Whatever, as long as he’s not fucking here.

As I’m collecting my school stuff (which is...everywhere), I come across the weird makeshift bag filled with Pacey’s broken watch pieces. Just looking at it makes my blood boil, reminding me of my stupid failure. Baz’s harsh words are still ringing in my ear. Y’know what? Fuck him, the stupid vampire prick. I snatch up the napkin and open it on my bed.

With wand in hand, I stare down at the pieces. I try to focus on the fact that they’re supposed to be together. I point at them as steadily as I can.

“All the parts make the whole,” I say, and my voice is booming. I feel my power rush down my arm, through my wand, and right into the watch pieces. They start to pull together, going back into place, becoming whole. I smile broadly. It worked! For once, my magic worked! Fuck yes! Take that, Tyrannus.

Wait, why isn’t it stopping? The watch is fully assembled, but my magic is still flowing out of me in a roaring wave. I try to let go of my wand, but my hand won’t budge. I can’t even move it out of place. What the actual fuck?! I feel the the magic go past the watch and into the mattress beneath. My bed starts glowing gold. The light gets brighter and brighter, but I can’t stop it. Wait, is Baz’s bed glowing too?! I shield my eyes just before there’s a blinding flash of light.

And then, nothing. The whole room is deadly silent.

Slowly, I pull my hand down, blinking the spots from my vision. Once I see what’s happened, my jaw falls open and I drop my wand. Oh shit. Instead of two single beds as far as possible, there’s one double bed, merged together. One side has the sheets kicked down, and the other has a million quilts.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I start pacing back and forth, pulling at my hair with one hand and chewing my nails on the other. How the fuck did I do that?! Is my magic getting that insane? More importantly, how the fuck do I fix it? I have no fucking clue.

But I know who might.

———————————————

Penelope

It starts as a totally normal day. For once, there’s nothing exciting or life threatening. It’s a bit of a welcome change, honestly, especially after the terrifying insanity at the end of last term. But when I see Simon running towards me in the dining hall at breakfast, not even stopping to grab a scone, I know something’s up.

“Penny, Penny,” he pants, leaning over me with wide eyes, “I need your help.”

“Is it the Humdrum?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s- it’s just- Come with me, please.”

He sounds scared, and incredibly desperate. I get up immediately. “Okay, I’ll go.”

Simon immediately turns and starts jogging. I follow behind him. My mind is racing with what the fuck is going on. What could make Simon panic so much? I would say the Humdrum, (especially after what we found out), but he said it wasn’t that. He wouldn’t lie. So what else? Maybe Baz sneezed on him by accident and Simon now thinks he’s a zombie. That could unfortunately be a possibility.

We climb all the way up to Simon and Baz’s room at the top of Mummer’s House. Luckily everyone is in the dining hall so I don’t get noticed going in. The second Simon throws the door open, I know exactly why he was panicking.

“Crowley,” I gasp.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

I walk up to double bed. It’s obvious what happened. The blankets and sheets are mismatched, as well as weirdly melded together in the middle like two paints that had been mixed on a palette. One side has a bunched up Watford issue grey wool blanket at the bottom, and has a literal mountain of covers. (Three guesses who’s side is who’s.) I walk forward and cautiously touch the middle. It doesn’t feel sewn or melted. It feels like it’s one thing and always has been.

“How did this happen?” I ask.

Simon is pulling at his hair, making it messier than it already is. “I-I was trying that spell again, y’know that one with the watch. And it worked, but then my magic wouldn’t stop, a-and there was a big flash and then...this happened.”

“‘All parts make the whole’ did...this?!” I’m flabbergasted. I’ve never heard of that spell doing anything close to this.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how! There was just all this light and-and I don’t know what to do!”

I rub my forehead, trying to push out the tension in my muscles. “Have you tried any spells?

“N-No. I just went to go get you...”

He looks ashamed. I sigh and pat his arm. That calms him down a bit, but not a lot. “Let me try some separating spells, okay?”

Simon nods. “Okay, thank you.”

I give him one more pat and adjust my ring. “Welcome, Si. Now step back.”

He does as I say. I roll my shoulders sand try to conjure every separation spell in my mind. Considering Simon’s magic, I might need all of them.

“As you were,” I say, forcing in as much power as possible. The magic flows out from my ring, I can feel it, but when it hits the bed, nothing happens. All the energy fizzles out. Fuck, that’s frustrating. I guess this is how Simon feels when his magic decides to not work.

“Break in two!” Once again, nothing.

“Go our separate ways!” Nothing.

“Split it down the middle!” Nada.

“Divide it fifty fifty!” Bupkus!

I sigh and lower my hand. It’s not working. Nothing I do is affecting Simon’s strange, erratic magic. “Nicks and slicks,” I groan. “Those are all the ones I know off the top of my head.”

Simon strumbles past me, then sits heavily on his side of the now double bed with a look of absolute terror. “Baz is going to kill me,” he says, voice shaky. “This is what’s going to make him finally snap and drain all my blood.”

I sit down next to him, putting a hand on his back. “He’s not going to kill you, Si.”

“For this?!” He flails wildly, indicating the Franken-bed I suppose. “Yeah, he fucking would, Pen.”

“Simon, I doubt Baz would-”

“What the absolute fuck is this, Snow!?”

We both look up, and yup, there’s the man himself. Baz’s jaw is firmly on the ground and his eyes are burning more brightly than his fire. I can feel Simon seize up. I don’t blame, even I’m a bit freaked out. Baz is powerful mage and he looks beyond furious.

“Uh, Baz-” Simon starts. “I-I didn’t- It’s not- Uh-”

“Stop stuttering, you numpty, and tell me what the fuck happened!” Baz starts marching towards us, but I stand up before he gets close. I glare at him, a hand on his chest to keep him away from Simon. Surprisingly, and luckily, he stops.

“Baz, it was an accident,” I say firmly.

“An accident?! How did he screw up this royally?!”

Simon stands up, wringing his hands. “I-I was trying a spell! And it went...weird.”

“Weird?” Baz hisses. “‘Weird’ is changing a shirt from white to polka dots. This is a fucking nightmare! You merged our bloody beds together!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“I don’t care!”

“Enough!” I shout. “Both of you, calm the fuck down. Baz, it was an accident, so there’s no point in getting angry. Simon, we both know that you didn’t mean to do this, so Baz is not going to hurt you.” I glare at Baz. “Right?”

Baz growls, low and angry, almost animalistic. It makes me almost believe Simon’s insane ramblings about vampirism. Simon doesn’t look reassured at all. I push the two of them further apart. For their safety and mine.

“We can’t fix it right at this moment,” I say. I have to push harder on Baz. “But we can fix it eventually. Until then, you two need to be on truce. No fighting, no yelling, and absolutely no killing or attempted killing. Understood?’

“But-” Simon starts.

“No but’s, Si.”

“What about-” Baz starts this time.

“And no what abouts, Basil! Truce, no questions. Both of you understand that?”

They look at each other over my head. (Damn being short.) I don’t have to look up to feel them glaring. The tension is thicker than Simon’s beloved butter and I could cut it with his sword. I feel like an intruder on their constant fighting. Though really, they’re barely noticing my existence.

“Fine,” Baz says from between gritted teeth.

“Fine,” Simon echoes, spitting the words out like they’re sour.

“Good.” I let up some of the pressure on their chests. “Now shake on it and I’ll spell it”

Baz scowls. “Is that really necessary?”

I roll my eyes and look at Simon. “Do you trust Baz?”

“No!” he replies instantly.

I look back at Baz. “And do you trust Simon?” He doesn’t reply, but I already know the answer. “Exactly. Now shake on it.”

Slowly, cautiously, I step out from between them, and thankfully they don’t immediately go for each other’s throats. Simon offers his hand first. Baz looks at him. His lip twitches, but he takes it.

“I promise I won’t harm you,” Baz mutters.

“I promise I won’t harm you either,” Simon says just as reluctantly.

I point my ring at their joined hands. “An English man’s word is his bond.”

Their hands glow blueish-purple for a second, the colour of my magic. The spell honestly won’t do much if, maybe make their arms go numb for a few days if they try to throw a punch. But hopefully the threat of punishment is enough to keep these two idiots from throttling each other. I have no clue how they’re going to figure out sleeping arrangements. But that’s their problem. I’m going to have my own issues sorting through spell books.

“There,” I put my hands on my hips, “truce is magically made.”

Baz pulls away like Simon’s touch is burning him. Simon puts his hands in his trouser pockets, looking like a kicked puppy. Poor guy. Of course I believe it was an accident. Simon wouldn’t do this on purpose. He’s probably so embarrassed. I’ll give him a hug later.

“I’ll keep looking for spells,” I say. “Right now, we should get a little breakfast before class, okay?”

“Fine.” Baz snatches up his bag and a notebook from his desk. Guess that’s why he came back. Well, it’s a good thing I was here when he confronted Simon, or the Anathema probably would’ve tossed both these idiots out a window.

Baz storms out. Simon and I follow behind. He’s still all slumped and pouty. I put an arm around his back, and he leans against me a bit. This is all going to be alright. I know it is. It has to be...

———————————————

Simon

I spend the rest of the day on the edge. Sometimes quite literally. I nearly fall out of my chair once from sitting too far on the side and jittering my leg too hard. I try not to think about it, but I can’t. Fuck, what am I going to do? How are we going to sleep tonight? More importantly, what the fuck is Baz going to do to me once Penny isn’t there to protect me? I wonder if the Anathema will actually protect me. I doubt it. It won’t do much if Baz drains all my blood.

Surprisingly, Baz doesn’t try to kill me during class, or even glare at me all the time. He actually pointedly avoids looking at me, focusing on his work and food. Everytime I look up he’s hunched over something. Maybe he’s busy plotting the most gruesome way to kill me. I try to not think about that too hard, for the sake of my sanity.

Unfortunately the day eventually ends. I’m extremely reluctant to go back to my room. Penny apparently can’t let me hide in her closet for the night, which is one of the worst things that has happened in my life. I make sure to drag my feet as much as I can on the way back to Mummer’s. It takes me twenty minutes to ascend the stairs of the tower. I slowly push the door open and poke my head in. I breathe a very long sigh of relief when I hear the shower going. Weird, Baz showers in the mornings, but I’m not complaining. The inevitable fight is put off for at least a bit.

I quickly throw on my pyjama trousers, as well as a shirt for once. I have no clue what the sleeping arrangements are going to be but I feel like I should be fully covered. I cautiously sit on the side that was my bed, making sure I don’t even touch Baz’s side. He would probably smell it. Stupid vampire senses.

Only a few minutes later, Baz emerges from the bathroom, hair slicked back, a cloud of steam behind him. Seriously, could he be anymore of a black and white movie vampire? He’s dressed in his grey silk pyjamas, the ones that match his eyes. Which are currently narrowed at me in contempt.

“What do you think you’re doing, Snow?” he asks bitingly.

I look around, trying to find specifically what I’ve fucked up this time. But it doesn’t seem like I’ve done anything for once. “Um...sitting?”

He crosses his arms. “I am not sleeping on the floor. My back isn’t suffering because of your magical fuck up.”

“Oh,” I squeak. We hadn’t talked, but I guess one of us is sleeping on the floor. That makes sense. Sorta. “W-Why can’t we, like, share? The bed is big enough to fit us both without touching.”

His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open like I just slapped him. I don’t see it as that unreasonable. I mean, I don’t trust him, but the floor doesn’t look comfortable. “Absolutely not,” he hisses. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with you, I’m not sharing a bloody bed.”

I humph, blowing hair out of my face. “Fine. But how am I supposed to sleep? We only have one mattress now...”

He squints, but not in anger this time. It’s the same expression he has during a difficult exam. His grey eyes flit around for a bit before settling on me again. “Did all the blankets meld?”

I stick my hand under the Franken-blanket, and feel a few of Baz’s fleeces. They still seem small. “Uh, no, some are still separate.”

“Good. Take those, gather them up on the floor, sleep on them.”

My jaw falls open. “Seriously?!”

“Yes, seriously. You’re the Chosen One, you can survive sleeping on the floor until we fix your fuck up.”

I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. I can’t think of anything. Baz just keeps glaring at me. Fuck, I can’t fight back. He’ll take my every word and turn it back on me like always. So I just grumble as I start gathering up some of Baz’s stupid blankets and my pillow, all of which I dump on the floor while scowling at Baz. He looks totally unaffected. Typical.

As I gather up the blankets into a makeshift bed, Baz just gets under the big blanket, gathering it around himself in his typical cocoon. He’s probably going to be shivering all night. Suck it you plotting vampire.

The blankets don’t really work as a proper bed but, well, it’s better than nothing I guess. I sink into my pillow, sleep starting to creep over me. Baz spells the lights off without another word, as usual. He’ll probably sneak off to the catacombs to feed soon. Or maybe bite me. (He better not bite me.) I’m not comfortable at all. I hope Penny can fix this soon.

———————————————

Baz

I don’t know where I am. It’s just dark, and smokey, and smells of blood. Slowly, I look down at my hands. Red drips from my fingertips. It’s me. I’m the blood smell.

“Basil,” a voice croaks, “why?”

I look down. My mother lays there at my feet. She’s filthy, hands helplessly covering the gushing wound on her neck. Her eyes are wide and confused.

“Mum?” I whisper. It’s been so long since I said that. I’ve always called Daphne “mother.” Only Natasha Grimm-Pitch has ever been called “mum” by me.

“Why are you like this, Basil?” she asks through a sob.

I kneel next to her, bloody hands hovering over her. “I-I didn’t mean to. I never asked to be a vampire.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I don’t want to be!”

“You’re not my son. Not anymore”

“Yes, I am!” I cry out, and suddenly my voice is small. That of a five year old child’s. The age she died.

“Monster,” she chokes out. Then the last gush of blood falls from her skin, and I watch the light die from her grey eyes. I’m reduced to body wracking sobs over her corpse. My tiny, five year old hands can only hold onto her so tight. My sobs become whimpers and groaning and panting breaths.

But, wait, those aren’t my sounds. That’s not my voice.

———————————————

My eyes slowly blink open in the darkness. At first I think the blood I drank after Snow fell asleep is waking me up to piss. But with my stupid vampire senses, I can see quite well. and I can see Simon Snow. I’ve rolled over to his side of the bed in my sleep. (It smells like him, smoke and sweet things. My unconscious is such an arsehole) He’s no more than a foot away and below me, whimpering and groaning and panting on his floor blankets.

He looks like he always does at night, sleeping in a knot with his face screwed up in pain. But I can see it even clearer now. He’s thrashing quite a lot. Rolling back and forth, fingers flexing, face all pulled together in pain. Fuck, I hate seeing him in pain. And he looks so scared and hurt right now. I want to help him. But he would never, ever want my help.

Snow whimpers pathetically, and I watch tears fall down his cheeks. Shit.

I lean over the side, close to him. “Snow,” I whisper, but there’s no change.

“Snow,” I whisper louder. He twitches but still doesn’t wake up. Shit, he looks to be in even more distress.

“Snow!” No change. In fact, he’s starting to get worse. He’s crying harder. It makes my heart shatter.

I reach down and poke him. “Snow, it’s a bad dream, just wake up.”

He’s panting, crying, and thrashing more. I can’t leave them like this, but I can’t do anything else right? Snow lets out a sob. The sound hits me deep in my undead heart.

Oh, fuck it.

I grab his shoulder and shake him firmly. “Simon!”

His blue eyes fly open with a loud gasp. I pull my hand back immediately. Snow takes deep, shuddering breaths, body completely still. I’ve seen him like this a few times. He can stay frozen for a couple seconds or almost ten minutes. Depends on the nightmare, I suppose. This time, it only takes a minute. I subtly breathe a sigh of relief when I see his shoulders twitch. Slowly, his bleary eyes meet mine. They’re not angry or sad, just confused.

“You called me Simon,” he whispers.

Fuck I hope he doesn’t see the way my face heats up in the dark. What the fuck is wrong with him? I wake him up from a nightmare and his first thought is that I called him by his stupid beautiful first name? What a stupid gorgeous moron.

“No, I didn’t,” I grumble. It’s a blatant lie, but I’m praying to whomever will listen that he’s too sleepy to argue. I then turn back on my side, my back towards him. “Go back to sleep, Snow.”

Thankfully, Snow doesn’t keep arguing. From the sound of it, he rolls over too. I will myself back to sleep. I hope I don’t have anymore nightmares tonight. And I hope he doesn’t either.

———————————————

Simon

“Si, that’s the third time you’ve rolled your neck,” Penny says.

“I know,” I grumble. “Bloody floor is so uncomfortable.”

Penny looks up from her huge spellbook. “Have you seriously been sleeping on the for the entire past week?”

“Yeah. Baz won’t let me sleep in the bed. Says he’s not going to fuck up his back because of my fuck up.”

“That’s mean.”

“He is mean.”

“Damn right I am,” Baz says smoothly, before dropping books on the table with a soft thunk. He sits at the head of the table. Figures. Probably thinks he deserves to lord over us. “My spine will not ache because my roommate is an idiot.”

I stick my tongue out at him. Baz rolls his eye. “Extremely mature, Snow.”

I flip him off and look back down at my book. He’s right, it was juvenile, but it’s how I feel. Stupid prick. It really was an accident and now I have a bad back. Like he cares. Though, it hasn’t been all bad. Baz has woken me up from a couple nightmares, including that first night. I wonder why. Maybe he thinks I’ll have worse nightmares when I go back to sleep but I don’t. So, ha, plot ruined in my favour, you stupid posh vampire.

We’ve been doing this every day after tea break, going to the library and researching spells to fix the bed. Luckily we all have the same free period. Sadly, we still haven’t found anything, and I haven’t been able to will it back to normal either. I suggested we ask the Mage for help, but Baz immediately shut that down. He says the Mage will find some way to blame him. I told him he was being paranoid but he was firm. So we’re still here, still researching, and I’m still sleeping on the bloody floor.

“How about this one?” I ask, “‘Parting is such sweet sorrow?’”

Penny reaches for the book, but Baz takes it before she can, scanning over the words with his inquisitive grey eyes.

“Nice try, Snow, but no cigar,” he says smoothly, and I deflate like a forgotten balloon. “This spell is to make someone miss you. It has to do with your emotions. It’s not used for physically separating two items.”

I groan and slump forward, cheek squished on the oak table. At least the wood is cool. It feels nice on my tired skin. “Fucking great. Still nothing.”

“It’s one setback, Snow. don’t get so twisted up.”

“It’s not one,” I grumble, turning my head so I can glare at his calm face. “We’ve had lots of them. Nothing has worked or been good.”

He sighs, probably because he’s frustrated with me. “We’ll find something eventually.”

“For once, Baz is right,” Penny says. She puts a soft hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find something. Don’t give up yet.”

I make a noise of agreement, because honestly I’m too tired for words. But she’s right. We’ll find something. I just need to rest for a second. The damn floor is making me so goddamn tired that I’ve been nearly falling asleep in class for a week. I haven’t been able to get any work done either.

Oh fuck.

I bolt upright so quickly it makes both Baz and Penny jolt. “Test!” I say.

“What?” Penny asks with genuine confusion.

“Test, today, I-I didn’t- I need to but- Fuck, how do I-”

“Words, Snow,” Baz sighs.

I glare at him as hard as I can. “Is our poli sci test last period today!?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“Fuck,” I hiss. I pull at my hair and weirdly it provides some feeling of comfort. Or maybe I just want to punish myself. “I’ve been so tired and we’ve been doing this all the time so I haven’t studied at all, I’m so fucked!”

Penny runs her hand down my arm.“I’m sure you’ll do fine, Si.”

I groan and hold my face. I know she’s trying to be nice and all, but it feels empty. We both know the height my intellectual capabilities, which probably sit somewhere down in the centre of the fucking Earth. As if my average needed to plummet even more.

Something loudly slaps on the table, making me yelp. The librarian makes a shush noise. I don’t know if she means me or the sound. Right in front of me is a black spiral bound notebook with “Political Science” written on the front in curly lettering. It’s Baz’s handwriting. I tilt my head up at Baz him, who’s looking at his giant volume with zero sign of emotion, as usual.

“What’s this?” I ask.

His eyes flick up while the rest of his face is still. “What’s it look like, Snow? It’s my political science notebook. I promise you my notes are very meticulous.” I’m still staring at him dumbly. He makes a small gesture with his long fingers. “Go on, Snow, at least you can do some last minute revision. Maybe that’ll help somewhat.”

He goes back to the spellbook with no other comment, still looking all neutral and shit. Like this isn’t the weirdest fucking thing to ever happen in my weird as fuck life. I turn to Penny, who is just as wide eyed. Well, it’s good I’m not the only one super fucking confused over this.

“But...why?!” I ask.

“You won’t be much use for spell research if you’re busy bemoaning doing poorly on a test. My frankly stupendous notes might at least put your mind at a bit of ease.”

I trace the leather cover (of course it’s leather) and it doesn’t kill me, so it’s not booby trapped at least. At least not on the cover. I could open it and a cloud of poison could puff out. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” he sighs with annoyance. “Unlike you, I do not stutter. Open the book and revise away.”

Even when he’s trying to be nice (possibly), he’s still a prick. It’s truly a skill, I guess. “Um, are you gonna want it back before lunch?”

He shakes his head, making more wavy black hair fall in his face. “No. I feel perfectly well prepared for the test. Please return it at the end of the day. I assume you’re not petty enough to destroy my political science notebook.”

I look at the notebook, then him, then the notebook, then at still confused Penny, then back at Baz. I move so fast my neck hurts. “Seriously?!”

“Yes,” Baz sighs again, sounding even more annoyed. “Use my bloody notes, Snow. Put your frantic little mind at ease.” He licks the tip of his thumb and flicks over to the next page. I swear he’s doing it for the dramatic effect. “Maybe you’ll actually do well on a test for once. Merlin, that would be a miracle.”

I want to start shouting at him, but we’re in a library, and he just gave me my notes. It feels wrong to yell when he’s being nice, even if it’s in his own self centred prick way. Well, I guess I can yell some other time. For now, I open up his stupid black notebook.

His handwriting is all loopy and perfect, of course. At least it makes his notes easier to read. And I guess they’re kind of super organized, and well written, and super informative. Fuck, this might actually help me on the test. I know politeness rules say I’m supposed to thank Baz, but like hell I’ll ever do that. So I just keep my head down and revise.

———————————————

When I get back to my room, I’m so knackered I go past Baz without notice and flop down on my blanket nest.

“And a good evening to you too, Snow,” Baz says. It almost sounds teasing, in his weird deadpan way. I grunt in response. “How did the test go for you? You were still writing when I left.”

I lift my head up and look over my shoulder. Baz is sitting at his desk, back to me. I can’t see his face, so I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or not. “Are you seriously asking or taking the piss?”

He chuckles, and it doesn’t sound that sadistic for once. Weird. “You decide. Take a wild stab.”

Well, that’s cryptic as fuck. I still can’t see his face and therefore decide if I’m being mocked. Usually he’s mocking me. But, he gave me his notes. Maybe he wants to know if his “frankly stupendous notes” were effective. He would, the posh prick. I shouldn’t give him any satisfaction. But...he did give me his notes...

“It was alright,” I say. “Not great but not horrific either.”

“Did the notes help at all?”

Yeah, there it is. He wants to feel self important, the prick. “How much do you want me to stroke your ego?”

“The truth is adequate, Snow.” His voice is totally flat, not one hint of sadistic amusement. I don’t know how to interpret that. I’m used to knowing Baz so well, but recently he keeps surprising me. This truce is weird, but sorta nice, I guess. It’s better than him being an evil prick 24/7.

“They, uh, helped a bit,” I say with hesitant honesty. “I couldn’t hold onto all of it so quickly, duh. But some of it stuck, enough of it. Maybe I will pass.”

“Good. Glad they helped a little.”

His tone is so emotionless I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. He might be making fun of me. But I don’t think I’m in immediate danger from him right now (for once), and I’m too tired to decipher him right now.

“Uh, yeah...” I get out of the blanket nest then grab my pajamas and bath towel. “I’m gonna, um, take a shower.”

Baz dismissively waves at me. “Have a wonderful trip.”

Okay, that was sarcastic as fuck. But...it’s kind of funny. I have to stifle my giggle and smile. I’m not fucking smiling because of Baz, never ever. Even if he’s funny. I go into the bathroom just to be sure he doesn’t hear or see any wayward positive response from me. He’s acting alright, but I’m still not sure why. Whether this is a plot or...just being nice because we’re on a truce. Can Baz be nice? Christ, this is so confusing.

———————————————

Baz

I wake up because of Simon’s panicked breathing again. I’ve gotten so attuned to them it seems my body won’t let me ignore him. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see him rolling him around, face all scrunched up in pain. I put my hands over my sensitive ears, trying to ignore him again. I always do, because I know he doesn’t want my help. But I can’t leave him like that. Just like I couldn’t leave him panicking about his test a few days ago. Stupid love, it makes me so damn stupid sometimes.

I reach down and shake him awake. It only takes a few placed shoves for his plain blue eyes fly open. My hand flies away immediately. Slowly, Simon focuses on me. His perfect pink lips fall open slightly, and I have to will my heartbeat to slow down.

“Baz?” he whispers, voice confused and soft. How I wish he always sounded so soft talking to me.

“Yes, who else?” I sigh, rolling over and away. “Go back to sleep, Snow.”

I do hope he listens to me for once, but alas, the Chosen One doesn’t listen to any of his bloody supporting characters. He tosses and turns, grunts and grumbles. Every one of his sounds is keeping me up. Eventually, I’ve had enough.

“Snow,” I hiss, “would you please keep it down?”

He grunts at me, like that’s a normal human response. “Can’t sleep.”

“You’ve fallen asleep before after I’ve woken you up, so do it again.”

“...don’t wanna.”

My eyes fly open. He sounds like a defiant child, which is normal, but there’s a weird edge to it. I roll over, but only get a view of Snow’s broad back, not his face. However, from the way he’s curled in on himself, I can tell it’s not good.

“You don’t want to?” I try to keep my voice as calm as possible, so he doesn’t yell at me for being a condescending prick. I want to make sure he’s okay without him thinking I want to make sure, like I tried to when he came back after the test. It’s so exhausting pretending I don’t adore him.

“Bad dreams,” he grumbles. And unfortunately that’s a sensical answer.

I lean up slightly, cheek cradled on my palm. “You’re scared of the big bad nightmares, Chosen One?”

Snow growls, muscles tensing up. “Fuck off, you don’t get it.”

I scoff, half annoyed and half insulted. “Where have you been for the past seven years, Snow? I have nightmares too. Have all my life, just like you.”

That makes him uncurl slightly. Maybe he’s feeling a bit guilty, and I’m not sure how much I want that. I don’t like him feeling bad, even though he was being a bit of a prat. “They’re probably not the same...”

“Try me.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Fuck, that was dumb. Like he wants to talk to me about his nightmares. I expect him to ignore me at best and snap at me at worst. What I absolutely don’t expect, not in my wildest imagination, is for him to start actually speaking.

“Stuff burns most of the time,” he mumbles. “Sometimes it’s Watford, or the group home, or...everything. It’s all on fire. Because I went off and destroyed everything. Everything is gone and everyone is dead because of me. That’s what I dream about all the time, Baz. Happy?”

Not at all, I want to say. I don't wish to see him in pain, not ever. Unfortunately, it makes sense. Snow’s magic is a terrifying force of nature, like a hurricane. And hurricanes always destroy. But I wish he wouldn’t think like that. I want to reassure him, but I can’t let him know I care so much.

"Sounds bad," I say as nonchalantly as I can. "But it won't ever actually happen, y'know."

He whips around with a scowl, but I think I see a deep pain in his gaze. "How the fuck could you know that?! You're the one who's always calling me a useless mage who just blows up!"

I flinch slightly. He's right. I'm the last person who should be helping him. But who else is going to right now? It's just us. I have to, because I can’t leave him alone.

“I say that to get a rise out of you,” I sigh. “Yes, your magic can be uncontrollable sometimes, but we both know you’re too much of a golden hero to actually destroy everything. You hate harming innocents. I still remember the way you blubbered in the bathroom after killing that dragon in first year. You wouldn’t hurt anyone unless you had to and you would still hate yourself for it.”

(I almost say “and when you finally kill me, you’ll still feel terrible,” but that’s a very different conversation for another time.)

His pretty mouth drops further open for a moment, but before I can properly admire it, he gets all scrunched up in confusion. “But I could go off by accident...”

I sigh heavily. “Isn’t Bunce constantly glued to your side?” He nods slowly. “Exactly. She would calm you down before you would go Chernobyl on Watford, correct?”

Snow nods again, and he gets the parted lip shocked look again. “Uh, yeah, I guess you have a point.”

“Of course I do. You won’t destroy everything, Snow, it’s just stupid anxiety. Now,” I roll over, mostly so he can’t see the way my face might be heating up, “please go to sleep. And stop tossing and turning so much so I may sleep as well.”

He makes a weird grunt noise. After a bit of rustling, he goes still. Huh, for once he actually listened to me. That’s good. I know he would never do any of that, because he’s too selfless and clever. But he wouldn’t believe me if I said it. I wish he would. And I wish his dreams were happier.

———————————————

Penelope

When Simon sits beside me in the common room on Saturday, I immediately notice something’s different with him. Simon’s always energetic, sure, but he also tends to bags under his eyes, because of the nightmares keeping him up. (I wish I could take those away for him.) By the end of the day, he’s always looks one bad gust of wind away from toppling over. But today there’s not even a hint of dark circles there.

“Hi Pen,” he chirps, a big smile on his face.

“Hey Si,” I reply. “Just wondering, are you feeling okay?”

He frowns a bit in a confused way. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“You look better than usual. Sleeping better?”

“Actually yeah. Floor still sucks, but I’ve been having a few less nightmares. Baz wakes me up from them sometimes.”

My eyes bulge out. I feel like a bloody Looney Tunes character. “Baz wakes you up from nightmares?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Um...why?” I’m so beyond confused right now.

“He says I make too much noise when I thrash about and it wakes him up so he wants to get me to stop.” His eyes narrow, and he leans closer to whisper. “I think he’s trying to make me have worse nightmares, actually. But it’s not working, cause I don’t have any nightmares after I wake up once.”

Simon looks very pleased at this. I mean, he might have a point, but Basilton is unfortunately incredibly brilliant. If he wanted to give Simon worse nightmares there are so many effective ways to do it. And it seems like it’s not effective at all. So why the hell does Baz keep doing it?

“I’ve got three new books,” Baz announces as he swans in with absolutely zero warning. I knew he was coming today but he’s so silent. We need to put a damn bell on him. “Let’s see what they have.”

He sits across from us and shoves two large spellbooks at us. I easily take it, while Simon is a bit more cautious. At least I think he’s being cautious. But when I look to the side, he’s just pouting. Not even in angry way, just annoyed.

“What’s with the long face, Snow?” Baz asks.

“It’s nearly lunch,” Simon almost whines. “This is why I wanted to meet later. I wanna eat, not research.”

Baz sighs heavily. I expect him to tell Simon to grow up. But instead he takes a large glass container from his book bag. It’s filled with sandwhiches and a few scones. Simon’s eyes go wide. I swear his mouth is watering.

“There.” He shoves the container at Simon. “Have my lunch, since you can’t seem to think without stuffing food in your mouth.”

“Um, you sure you don’t want any?” Simon asks, though he’s already ripped the lid off and fishing out a roast beef sandwich.

Baz waves dismissively. “I’m fine. Eat away.”

Simon doesn’t need another word. He starts scarfing down the sandwich. I expect Baz to make some comment about him eating like a pig, but he just sighs and keeps reading. He keeps defying my expectations today. What is going on with him? Better question, what’s going on with Simon? Why is he so unsurprised?

After polishing off three sandwiches (why did Baz get so many?) and beginning on a scone, Simon starts his reading. He’s pretty damn focused, eyes narrowed and nodding thoughtfully. Usually he’s half falling asleep because he’s so tired and bored. I guess he really is sleeping better. And...it’s because of Baz? Really?

Simon finishes off all the food with a lick of his fingers. Baz very dramatically rolls his eyes at him. Okay, so he’s not that different than normal. Simon starts rummaging around in his blazer pocket, then slides a half eaten mint aero bar across the table. Baz’s eyes flick up to it with absolutely no change in his expression.

“Are you expecting me to throw out your garbage, Snow?” he asks flatly.

Simon rolls his eyes in an almost perfect imitation of me, or maybe of Baz. “No, arsehole. I ate all your lunch, so you can have the rest of my mint aero. And don’t say you don’t like them, cause I know you steal from my stash when I’m not around.”

Baz narrows his eyes until they’re grey slits. He’s going to call Simon a numpty and storm away from the table, I know it. But again he does exactly what I don’t assume. He snatches up the chocolate and puts in his own blazer. Simon smiles smugly as he goes back to his book. Baz glares at him one more time, then looks back at his own readings. Sure, they’re not friendly, but they’re not screaming or beating the shit out of each other. It’s so weird.

Maybe I need to start expecting the unexpected.

———————————————

Simon

I wake up in the middle of the night with a gasp, but for once it’s not from my nightmare or Baz shaking me. It’s from weird noises coming from the bed above me. Panting, groaning, maybe even whimpering. Wait...is that Baz?

I bolt upright. Baz is laying on his side in the middle of the bed, curled in on himself. His sharp face is lit up by pale moonlight. I can see all the muscles clench up. It’s the same expression I see when I punch Baz during a fight. He’s in pain. Oh shit, he’s having a really bad nightmare.

Without thinking, I grab his shoulder and shake him hard. Maybe a bit too hard, because Baz wakes up with a giant gasp and flails around like he’s been attacked. His hands land on my forearms, nails digging into my skin like bear claws, as if he’s trying to hang onto me. Baz looks at me with huge eyes and incredibly shaky breaths. If it were anyone else, I’d say he was scared.

“You...you okay?” I ask.

I watch his face change completely in an instant. All that fear flies away and is quickly replaced with his usual boredom. No sign of anything feeling, anything human.

“I’m fine, Snow,” he says. “Get off me.”

“Then let go,” I reply, looking at where he’s still hold on to me. And when I look up again, I swear there’s some embarrassed flushing on his face. Guess he snuck off to feed after I fell asleep again. His hands quickly off me like I’m a toxic swamp creature, then he rolls over, leaving me to stare at his back. I lean my cheek on my palm.

“You wanna talk about it?” Honestly, I’m legitimately curious what could make strong, cold Baz so terrified. And maybe a tiny part of me wants to help, like he helped me.

“No,” he snaps. Of course. I blow air out my lips in annoyance. “Stop it with the horse impression, Snow, I’m trying to sleep.”

“I told you about my shit. Why can’t you tell me about yours too?”

He cranes his head over his shoulder, glare illuminated just enough for me to see it. “Why the fuck should I?”

“Dunno. Maybe I could help.”

“You?”

The way he says that hits me right in gut. It’s been awhile since I let Baz get to me, but he’s sorta been okay these last three weeks. Him being a bastard again feels like whiplash on a nice scenic drive. I humph and flop back down on my nest.

“Goodnight, Baz,” I snap. I squeeze my eyes shut, clutching a quilt around me. Fucking Baz. Of course he’s still a prick. He always will be.

“It’s about my mother,” Baz says, and my eyes fly open. “I usually see her dying in front of me, in many different ways. And no matter what, I can’t save her. Again.”

Holy shit. My heart is beating against my ribcage. I know I asked, but I cannot believe he’s actually saying something. Slowly, I turn on my side. Baz laying on his back, hands linked over his stomach, staring at the ceiling. He kind of looks like a vampire in his coffin. I bite my tongue before saying that.

“Oh,” I squeak. “That’s uh...that’s bad...”

Baz scoffs loudly. “No shit, Snow.”

“Yeah...sorry. And, I’m sorry about your mum. She died when you were really young, right?”

“Yes. I was five.”

I sit up, mouth falling open, while he doesn’t react at all. “You were only five? Shit Baz, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity, Snow,” he spits like venom.

“It’s not pity!” I kneel, arms folded on top of the bed. “I’m not pitying, Baz, I-I just mean that’s really horrible. I’m sorry you went through that.” Baz doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t yell at me either. That’s a victory, I guess. “You...you said you couldn’t save her again.”

“Yes. Good to know you’re not deaf.” It takes all my self control to not say something mean back. Because I want to help him, because he helped me.

“Do you, uh, mean like you can’t save her in every dream? Or like, you couldn’t save her when she actually died?”

Something odd about Baz is that his most important movements are the smallest. He’s so subtle in everything he does. A twitch can say so much. And I see the way his lips purse slightly and fingers curl up. I hope he’s thinking, not about to curse me in some horrific way.

“The Humdrum’s vampires,” he says slowly, measuring his words, “attacked the nursery, where I was. My mother came to save me. If she hadn’t, she would have lived. She died because of me. And I relive that horrible feeling almost every damn night. That’s what I mean.”

Never in my life did I ever think my heart would break for Baz fucking Pitch. But it really is right now. I live not knowing who my parents even were, but Baz lives thinking his mum died because of him. That has got to be horrible.

“I’m sorry, Baz.” He scowls again, probably about to cuss me out. “I mean, like that’s really bad. And if it makes you feel any better, I, uh, I don’t think it’s your fault your mum died.”

“Oh?” he says like he assumes what I’m going to say is stupid. I hope I don’t.

“Well, I mean, it’s not like you asked for the Humdrum to send vampires. No one could’ve predicted that. And Headmistress Grimm-Pitch was your mum, so of course she wanted to save her son. That’s not bad. And...you were only a kid, Baz. You couldn’t have cast a healing spell or something back then. It just, it wasn’t your fault. It sucks your dreams aren’t getting that...” I look down at the sheet, fiddling with my fingers. “I-I didn’t know your mum, Baz, but I don’t think she’d want you to feel bad about being, y’know, being alive and all...since she wanted you to live...”

I’m not sure I said the right thing. I didn’t say anything about him being a vampire at least, so hey, that’s a plus. But I’m still not sure. Cautiously, I lift my head. Baz isn’t moving at all. He’s a perfect statue frozen on the bed, like one of those medieval coffins. (Or maybe I’m just thinking of that one in Indiana Jones.) Fuck, maybe I said the wrong thing, I do that a lot. We stay in frozen silence for a long while, me kneeling, him being a medieval coffin statue.

I realise he’s not gonna talk anytime soon. So I slowly push off the bed and lower back into my blanket pile. Christ and Crowley, it’s uncomfortable down here.

“Y’know, sleeping here is like sleeping on fuzzy rocks,” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood at least a bit. It feels like there’s a damn black cloud in here.

Baz lets out a long sigh, the first sound he’s made in what feels like forever. There’s a rustling, then he speaks. “Get the fuck up here, Snow.”

What the fuck? I sit up and peer over the side of the bed. He’s moved to the other side, what would be hid bed if they weren’t melded together. So there’s a big spot open for me. “What?”

“You heard me, Snow. You can sleep here.”

“Uh...this isn’t a plot to like...bite me or something, right?”

He scoffs and I’m pretty sure he’s rolling his eyes. “No, Snow. If I was a vampire, which I’m not, there are much easier ways to get your butter clogged blood. Now get up here, before I change my mind.”

I gape for another few seconds, then my brain comes back online. I slowly stand up, waiting for him to curse me or sink his fangs into my neck. But it doesn’t happen. I get on top of the blanket, since I never really sleep under them. It feels nice to be on a mattress after weeks on the floor. I feel exhaustion wash over me immediately. But before I drift off, I have to say something.

“Um, thank you, Baz,” I whisper. The words feel strange on my tongue, but not too bad.

“Go to sleep, Snow,” he replies. And I swear I hear a small “thank you” under his breath, but I’m so close to sleep I can’t tell. I drift off, and I feel alright.

———————————————

Baz

My dreams aren’t terrible for once.

It’s odd. I’m so used to feeling utter terror in every bone in my body. But this time, I simply feel warm, calm. I’m standing in an infinite field. There’s no sign of my dead mother telling me what a monster I am, no feeling of guilt that she’s dead or dying. I’m just, okay.

Something warm is on my hand. I look down, and there are tawny, freckled fingers weaved between mine. My eyes follow up a strong arm, to a broad shoulder, and finally land on a set of blue and a mess of bronze curls. He smiles at me, and it’s so bright, it’s like staring into the sun. And I simply smile back.

———————————————

I wake up slowly, with no gasp or sudden start. I suppose this is how normal people wake up in the mornings. All my muscles slowly come back to life, the sunlight dances on my eyelids, and there’s a smile on my face. What’s that weight on my side? As my eyes come back into focus, I see my arm is stretched out. And there’s something on top of it. Something with tawny skins and a constellation of freckles and moles.

All the breath leaves my lungs.

I stay very, very still. I cannot have him wake up when we’re like...this. Simon is completely curled around me. One leg between mine, his chest pressed to my back, arm draped over me, and hot breaths caressing my neck (mouth breather.) This is closest we’ve ever been in my entire life. Thank magic itself there’s still a blanket between us or I would probably fucking explode.

Simon hums in his sleep, the vibrations radiating down my spine. His arm gives me a light squeeze. I have to suppress a shudder. Though I can’t help but lightly squeeze his beautifully callused hand. I love the way his skin scratches on mine. Part of me knows I need to wake him up, that he’s going to hate this. But another, weaker part of me desperately doesn’t want to him to let go. I want to stay in his arms for eternity, bask in his heat, burn to death in his fire. Crowley, I just want so much, and it’s terrible. Because there is no way I can ever truly have this.

It’s easy to tell when Snow wakes up. Almost all his muscles are touching mine right now. They come awake along with the rest of him. I slam my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep even when I’ve never felt more awake and alive. I can feel the moment Snow notices. His entire body locks up like he’s been hit with a stun spell, which inadvertently pulls me closer. I’m allowed to revel in that for one second, maybe two, before he scrambles away from me, and I’m my cold self again.

He sits still on the bed for a solid minute, breathing heavily, probably beyond horrified he woke up spooning his worst enemy. I can’t blame him, even though I wish he wouldn’t. I wish he liked it as much as I did. The mattress dips as Simon gets off the bed. I listen to him fumble around, probably quickly throwing on his clothes. Once the door closes, I finally open my eyes. I reach back. The spot next to me is still warm. I roll over and press my nose into the sheets. Smoke and sugar, Simon Snow.

I am so fucked.

———————————————

Simon

I’m not sure where I’m going. I’m just...walking. Walking away from my thoughts, my fears, my weird as fuck feelings. I need to do that more than anything. Eventually, my feet start to hurt, and I have to stop. I duck into an alcove near the second floor showers. It’s too early for anyone to be up, so at least I can be alone right now. I sink down to the ground, sitting with my back to the wall. I chew on my shaky fingers and rock slightly back and forth.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck!? I swear to God that I was on the other side of the bed when I fell asleep. So how the hell did I end up draped all over Baz? Why didn’t I notice or move away? And...why didn’t I have nightmares?

I’m serious, I didn’t have a single one. I didn’t even see anything. I just felt warm and happy. It’s been years since any of my dreams have been anywhere close to that good. I can barely remember a time when I wasn’t plagued with fears. Was that really because I was sleeping next to Baz? Or more accurately on Baz?

But I hate him! He’s a snob, and a bully, and a fucking vampire! A dark creature that could snap my neck and drain my blood. Though, he hasn’t really been that bad these past few weeks. Sure, he’s still a prick, but he’s helped me out. I’ve helped him as well, I guess. And I’ve realised he’s not some unfeeling monster, he’s got fears and problems too. He hasn’t hurt or killed me, even though he’s had plenty of opportunities to. So I guess he’s really not that bad...

No, no. What the fuck is wrong with me? Baz is evil, second only to the Humdrum. We’re not mates or...cuddle buddies (those words make me cringe), we’re enemies. I need to get away from him, reset my brain, get back on track.

———————————————

Baz

I’m not sure what happened. Ever since the terrible, wonderful morning over a week ago, Snow has been ice cold to me. (No pun intended.) He’s not even antagonizing me like he used to, just giving me the silent treatment. I ask him a question, he shrugs. I make some joke that even Bunce finds amusing, he’s stoned face. I make snide remarks about his clothing or reading abilities, he says absolutely nothing. Somehow, this is even worse than when he hated me. At least then Snow was some part of my life. Now, I feel invisible to him. It stings in a very unique way. To have him so close, then pull so far away.

“I’m still for ‘parting the red sea,” I say.

Bunce shakes her head, almost dislodging her glasses. “That spell is way too powerful for a pair of beds.”

“Snow’s magic is unique. We might need something powerful.”

“Fine, if you want to try it. But I’m not going to be there when you split the entire tower in half.”

“Ye of little faith, Bunce.” I turn to Simon. He’s got his nose in a book, but he’s been on the same page for ten minutes, so I don’t think he’s actually reading. “What do you think, Snow? Is it time to resort to going biblical on our beds?”

He shrugs, no change in his face whatsoever. I have to stifle my disappointment, not show any of my pain. I clear my throat and look back down.

“Well, suppose we’ll leave that on the table,” I say, thankfully with no catch in my voice.

We spend another hour looking at books. Simon barely moves, barely does anything except exist. I wish if he was mad at me he would just say so. It would be better than this unending silence. Eventually, we head to the dining hall. Bunce and Snow go to their table, far away from me, and I sit with Dev and Niall.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” I say.

“Hello, stranger,” Dev says. “Where have you been?

Niall makes an odd huffing noise. “Yeah. You’ve barely been around lately.”

“Studying. Finals are coming up, and I need to beat Bunce for top of the class.”

“So you’re that stupid you need to study a ton?”

I glare at Niall, who has a giant shit eating grin. “I could turn you into a toad.”

“Would love to see that,” Dev snorts. “Say, the Chosen One isn’t glaring at you today. Has he finally given up on you?”

I glance at the table. Snow is saying something to Bunce, a small smile on his face. He’s laughing at something she’s saying. He looks at least a little happy. Well, seems he can warm, just not around me. It’s expected but still, it hurts.

“So it appears,” I say. “Maybe he’ll finally do something useful with his life.”

Dev and Niall chuckle, both returning to their food. I hope they don’t notice the forlorn look on my face. For a small shining moment, there was a chance Snow and I could at least be friends. But it seems to be truly hopeless after all.

———————————————

Simon

It’s all darkness. Just endless, merciless, black. I’m floating in it like a fish in water with no aim in sight.

“Hello?” I shout, and my voice echoes forever. No one answers. “Hello?! Is there anyone else here?”

“Everyone’s gone, Simon.” A disembodied voice says. It’s an odd mix of people I know. The Mage, Penny, Agatha, Baz, all my group home social workers, even The Humdrum. But when I look around, there’s still nobody there

“What do you mean gone?”

“You’re alone,” the mixed voice replies. “You have always been alone.”

I shake my head forcefully. “No no no, I can’t be! There are people, t-they care!”

“Do they?”

The world spins in front of me, and I honestly wonder if I took something. Suddenly, I’m six years old, sitting on my dirty bed at a group home. There’s no other kids around, all of them outside playing without me. Later I learned my magic repelled them, but back then I was sure they just hated me. Instead of playing, I’m looking up at a social worker. I don’t remember her name, but I remember her deep scowl.

“Why did you break the toy, Simon?!” she shouts.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t find the words. At this age, I could never find the words. I was always completely silent, like a sad little statue instead of a real kid.

“Answer me!” she screeches.

I try and try but I can’t. She makes a noise of frustration, and turns away with a wave of her hand. I curl up in a ball, sniffling pathetically. I rock back and forth on my bed. But then it vanishes under me.

I fall and fall, until my feet heavily hit the ground. I’m eleven, standing on the great lawn. A straw dummy sits a few feet away. It blazes bright with a huge fire. My wand is in my right hand, but my left is the one that’s smoking.

“Really, Simon?” the Mage says from behind me. “You cannot even do one simple fire spell properly? I’ve told you to study.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” I say, voice smaller than a mouse.

“Sorry counts for little, boy. You have to do better, especially since you’re my heir now. I won’t have you reflect badly on me.”

My head hangs low, a few tears falling down my face. “I’ll do better next time...”

“Doubtful. Come along, back to your room. We’ll try again later.”

I hear him turn, but when I turn to follow, everything ripples like a stone hitting the water . Now I’m eighteen, standing on the ramparts. Agatha is wearing her white nightgown, pale blonde hair blowing softly in the wind. Her arms around herself as she looks off into the distance.

“I can’t do this anymore, Simon,” she says. “I want to be someone’s right now, not their happily ever after.”

“Aggie, please.” My voice breaks with...I don’t know. Sadness? Desperation? Loneliness? I don’t want her to go. She’s my endgame. My happy ending. I can’t lose her.

“I’m sorry. Goodbye”

She turns and walks away. I chase after her. I try to touch her arm, but she turns into mist and blows away on.

The ramparts disappear under me and I fall into oblivion once again. Eventually, I land on something hard, sitting upright. I’m in the dining hall. Penny is across from me with a big smile on her face.

“Chicago was so pretty in the summer,” she says almost wistfully. “I can’t wait to go see Micah again.”

There’s a tug in my stomach. I’m happy for her, but...she’s going to America. It’s only for the summer now, but one day it’ll be forever. One day she’ll leave and I’ll stay here. I’ll be all alone.

“That’s great, Pen,” I reply, hiding the strain in my voice.

She smiles harder, and everything warps around her mouth. Then it’s not Penny I’m looking at, and it’s not her kind smile anymore. It’s Baz’s sadistic grin. His arms are crossed over his chest. There’s that smug glint in his eye. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him this cruel. I forgot how horrible it was.

“Poor little Chosen One,” he drawls. “Everyone leaves you, don’t they? Maybe you’re just too pathetic for everyone to deal with. Me included.”

“Fuck you!” I scream.

“Very eloquent. I really do feel sorry for you.” He looks at his perfect hands with nonchalance, grin melting into a simple smug smirk. “That’s the only reason I helped you, really. Because you’re so useless you can’t fix your own terrible magic, and I like watching you suffer.”

Furious tears fall down my face. My hands are heating up, but I’m too angry to stop them. Baz just keeps smirking at me, unaffected by my pain.

“You’ll be alone when you die too,” a very familiar voice chirps. “Just you wait.”

I turn around. He’s bouncing the red ball up and down with his goofy yet terrifying grin. His face, my face, is totally uncaring. He doesn’t care about my anguish either. “You’ll burn yourself out trying to kill me, y’know.”

“No!” I sob. My skin is prickly with heat all over. I feel like a log at the bottom of a bonfire, simmering with embers.

“Saying things doesn’t make them less true.” The Humdrum bounces his ball and tilts his head to the side. “You’re alone. Just like me.”

I go from hot to burning. I’m on fire, but he doesn’t care. No one cares. I’m alone, just like he says. I fall to my knees, staring at my glowing hands, tears evaporating on impact. I feel the fire consume my body. And I let it, preparing to explode outward. That’s all I’m good for, blowing up. A sad, lonely bomb.

“Snow,” a distant voice calls, but I can barely hear over the roaring in my ears. “Snow! Simon, wake up.” It’s getting louder. What’s on my shoulder? “Simon, for the love of Crowley, please just wake up!” Something’s on both my arm. It feels like...hands. “Wake up!”

———————————————

Baz

Simon’s eyes fly open with a huge gasp. The sparking golden energy is still radiating off his body, but I keep gripping his arms. I’m not letting him go. Whatever kind of dream he was having it must’ve been particularly terrible. So he’s not going to be alone right now.

His breathing is shallow and strained. I watch as his eyes look down at his glowing skin, then widen with terror. He starts full on hyperventilating, body shaking like a leaf. It only makes the magic grow stronger, shining brighter than the midday sun as it crawls up his arms. No, no, you idiot, that’s the opposite of what you need to do right now! Crowley, I wish Bunce was here. Unfortunately, it’s just me. I’ll have to do my best.

I’m leaning over the edge of the bed. Snow is still laying down. I pull him up to his knees so we’re almost face to face.

“Snow, look up,” I hiss. His eyes still move frantically. Fucking hell. I grab his tear stained cheeks, forcing his head up. “Simon, look at me.”

Finally, he looks me in the eye. I’ve never seen him so afraid. Not in front of the chimera, not facing down a dragon, not when he’s fighting me. He looks closer to the frightened little eleven year old I met all those years ago. But I’m not going to treat him the same way I did back then.

“Simon,” I say firmly “we need to calm you down.”

“I-I...I can’t,” he chokes out, new tears falling down his face.

“Yes, you can. Look at me, and take deep breaths, okay?”

He shakes his head frantically. “I can’t, I can’t-”

“Stop it, Simon, and look at me.” I use one hand to move his to my chest and the other to hold his shoulder, gripping him tight. “Do as I do. Follow my movements. Understand?”

He still looks panicked but nods. “O-Okay.”

“Good. Now, breathe in,” I take a deep inhale, and he takes a more shallow one, “one, two, three. Now out,” I breathe out slowly, and he follows, “one, two, three. And again. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three. You try counting, okay?”

Snow presses a bit harder on my chest, free hand digging into my other arm. “I-In, one, two, t-three. Out, o-one, two, three.”

His breathing is getting more steady, and the glow is starting to dim slightly. I nod and hold his hand tighter. “Yes, good job, Simon. Keep going.”

He closes his eyes, and we keep breathing together. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two three. Over and over and over, until the room becomes dark again and there aren’t as many tears falling down Simon’s cheeks. He keeps his eyes shut, but not as tightly. His hands are still gripping my arm though. He won’t let up. And when I tentatively try to let go, his nails dig harder into my skin.

“Don’t let go,” he pleads. “Please. I-I don’t wanna start going off again.”

I nod slowly. “Okay. But we can’t sleep like this, Snow.”

We’re frozen for a moment. I wait for him to say or do something. Sure, I know what I want, but I highly doubt it’s what he wants too. Then to my utter shock, Snow pulls himself up by my arms and into the bed, throwing the blanket over himself. Even more shocking, he presses his body close to mine. His strong arms embrace me tightly, face pushed into my chest, eyes still closed. The warmth from his body makes me gasp. But I’m so completely stunned that I’m frozen in place.

“Is this okay?” Simon asks.

Crowley, I wish he could understand how okay this is. How I’d let him hold me for a hundred, even a thousand years. As long as he needs. But I settle with simply nodding.

“It’s okay with me,” I whisper. Cautiously, I place a hand on his side, and when he doesn’t shove me away, I touch his back. “Is this okay with you?” He nods slowly. “You’re...you’re not scared?” He’s always been scared of me, and he’s already had a horrific night. I don’t want him to be more afraid.

He shakes his head against my chest. “No, not scared anymore” He yawns and bunches my shirt in his hands for a second. “You make the nightmares go away.”

Before I have a chance to ask for an explanation for that sentiment, Snow is already fast asleep . His light snores brush against my chest like a summer breeze. My mind is racing with so many questions. But Simon is sleeping softly, right here in my arms, beautifully at peace after nearly going off from a nightmare. My questions can wait.

I lean my head down, nose pressing into his scalp. He smells like smoke and cinnamon rolls, something I would gladly eat. But I won’t hurt him, I never would. I just hold him, and drift off with his warmth surrounding my body and sweet scent in my nose.

———————————————

Simon

For the second time in over a week, I don’t have a nightmare. I dream of light and warmth again. But this time, the warmth starts to take form. It molds and twists into a tall silhouette with a lean frame. His hair becomes thick and wavy, smile small and reluctant, and eyes a deep sea grey. Looking at him makes me feel safe.

Baz.

———————————————

I wake up slowly. No gasping, no going off. It’s odd but...nice. As my eyes slowly open, my vision is filed with bright red. Something is wrapped around me, holding me close. Something that smells of cedar and bergamot. Wait...

Carefully, I push myself back slightly. I inhale sharply. Holy fuck. The red I saw was Baz’s silk pyjama shirt. His arms are around me, and mine are around him. I slept pressed against his chest. He slept with his face in my hair. We’re all tangled up together like the vines that cover the weeping tower. Bit by bit, the memories of last night start coming back to me. The nightmare, nearly going off, Baz calming me down, crawling up into the bed with him. Fucking hell, I held him, and he let me. In fact, he held me back. Baz has been nicer lately but this is on a whole different level.

I stare at Baz’s sleeping face. He looks so peaceful. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted, not a single sign of his usual tension or animosity. Is this how Baz is supposed to look? Without the evilness or perpetual look of boredom? Without all of his defenses up? I kind of like it better. I like him better.

Baz starts to stir, and I stay very, very still. I don’t want to scare him away. But when his vision focuses on me, he doesn’t seem scared. He’s more shocked than anything, and that shifts to completely awestruck, eyes getting bigger than dinner plates. It’s like he’s experiencing a bloody miracle. Huh. I never thought anyone, let alone Baz, would look at me like I’m a miracle.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Um, hello,” he says. I can feel his arm slowly start to move off my side. “Sorry, I’ll go-”

“No, no.” I pull him back, pressing his hand against my back again. “Don’t go. Stay.”

He looks shocked again, thin lips slightly parted. I’m so close I can see a tiny bit of red spread across his face. “Okay...”

“What, you nervous?” I chuckle.

“No,” he says with a pout. “Just...confused. I always thought you were afraid of me.”

“I was, when I thought you were going drain me dry or turn me into a zombie. But the last few days have been properly educational, haven’t they?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” I bunch up his shirt. It’s soft in my hands. “I’ve learned a lot about you. Apparently it’s possible for you not to be a cold villain.”

He snorts. “Gee, thank you.”

I sigh and pull him even closer. I swear his blush is getting worse. “I mean, I’ve realised you’re not actually evil. Sure, you’re a snob and a bully.” He frowns, and it’s kind of adorable. “But you can be really nice in your own way. You can actually act like a real human being with feelings and shit. And I like you like that, Baz.”

His eyes are so wide, so full of wonder. “You...you like me?”

“When you’re not a total pompous git, yeah.” I look right in his grey eyes. “Do, uh, do you like me? Or is this all just a truce thing? I mean, I’d get it, I-”

“Simon,” he sighs, and moves his hand up to my cheek. Baz’s hand are cool, bordering on cold. But it feels comforting. I immediately relax. “Stop stuttering, you numpty. Yes, I like you. Crowley, you don’t even know how much I like you, how long I have.”

It’s my turn to be wide eyed and shocked. For a second I think he’s winding me up, but I don’t see any sign of his usual cruelty or boredom. He’s wide open, no defenses. It’s...incredible. “Really?”

“Yes.” He carefully tucks a strand hair behind my ear, like he’s waiting for me to stop him. But I don’t. Because it feels good. “Really.”

I’m pretty sure my face is bright scarlet. I’ve never felt so, cherished? Is that the right word? Does Baz cherish me? Baz’s eyes flick down to my mouth. It’s so fast I barely notice it, but I’m glad I do. He’s thinking about that, he has to be. And surprisingly, I think I’m thinking about that too.

“Simon,” Baz whispers.

And I kiss him.

———————————————

Baz

Mother of Merlin, he’s kissing me. Simon Snow is in my bed, in my arms, kissing me, his pathetic vampire roommate. His mouth is hot and kind of rough. It scratches as it presses against my own. But it still feels good. Anything he could do to me would feel good. He could stab me through the chest and set me on fire and it would be the greatest ecstasy. But he’s not doing any of that. He’s kissing me. And finally, I kiss him back.

Our lips slide together into a proper kiss. (At least what I assume one is.) Snow grips my shirt tightly, trying to pull me closer even though we’re already lined up head to toe. I move a hand up and around the nape of his neck, weaving my fingers in those bronze curls I’ve admired since we were twelve. They’re so soft. I clench my fist, and Simon groans into my mouth. Crowley, I always want to hear and feel that sound. I want to know every sound he makes when he kisses.

I don’t know how long we spend snogging in my bed. (Our bed?) Frankly, I don’t care at all. Time stretches into a meaningless void far beyond my concern. I try to match his movements at first, but quickly I realise I have absolutely no clue what the fuck I’m doing, so I let him take the lead. It’s a good decision. Simon starts doing something with his chin that makes all my thoughts disappear. And when he sucks on my bottom lip, I swear I’m falling through the mattress into the centre of the Earth.

But sadly we can’t stay here for eternity. Bit by bit, we slow down, and our mouths carefully separate. Our faces stay close. His eyes slowly blink open. They’re glazed over and half lidded. I swear I could get lost in that plain blue. Neither of us let go. Once the haze clears a bit from my mind, there’s one question I have.

“Why?” I whisper.

“You mean, why did I just kiss you?” he asks, equally hushed.

“Yes.”

He shrugs, though a shrug really does not seem sufficient right now. “I don’t know. Guess I wanted to.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when?”

He shrugs again, and I sigh and roll my eyes. Merlin, why must half of Simon’s sentences just be shrugs? His hand slowly moves down my shoulder and across my arm, leaving a trail of fiery sensation in his wake. My undead heart is so thumping wildly I’m worried my ribs will break.

“Did you want me to?” Snow looks genuinely worried he’s something wrong. Beautiful idiot, if only he knew just how right he was.

“Must you ask, Snow?” I say mockingly.

Snow’s face falls, getting even more anxious. He starts to pull away. His grip loosens on my shirt. Bollocks, this isn’t what I wanted. I squeeze the back of his neck, silently telling him he doesn’t have to move an inch.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I wanted you to. I’ve wanted you to for a long time.”

To my utter excitement, his sunshine smile comes back. It melts all the ice in my blood. “Really?”

“Yes, really, you absolutely gorgeous nightmare.”

He chuckles, forehead falling against mine. “That’s the funny thing,” he giggles quietly. “When I sleep next to you, I don’t have any nightmares. I...I don’t know why, but it’s happened twice now so, yeah, it’s gotta be a real thing.”

And I thought the kiss completely destroyed me. Now I’m pretty sure I’m in pieces on the floor. “What a coincidence, I don’t have any nightmares either.”

Simon lets out a breath, and I think he’s relieved. “You know, I think I like this. I like this better than fighting.”

“Me too,” I say past the lump in my throat, because I also know reality. “But there’s the Mage and my family and-”

I’m suddenly silenced by Simon’s mouth pushing against mine. I gasp, overwhelmed by the sensations. But before I know he’s pulling away again, far away enough to look me in the face. “Let’s not think about all that right now.”

I scoff. “Not think about our lives? That’s your solution?”

“Yeah, at least for now.” He smiles, small and kind, with big round hopeful eyes. “Just want it to be nothing but you and me for a bit, yeah?”

Merlin and Morgana, he’s so infuriatingly sweet. I want us too, despite I know we can’t really have it. But...maybe for now, we can pretend. “Okay.”

The word is barely out of my mouth before Simon is kissing me again, and I am absolutely sure I’ve gone to heaven. He pushes hard, and I push back. I’m still new to kissing, but I’m top of my class for a reason. I quickly figure out how to move my lips, how to use my tongue, and even that Simon groans when I pull on his hair slightly That’s the greatest thing I’ve never known.

It seems we’re both psychic, because we have the exact same thought at the same time. He rolls over as I tug on his shirt. Simon holds himself up on all fours above me, still snogging the semi life out of my undead body. Every once in awhile, he makes me reach up for his mouth. And I do. I would again. I’d cross every line for him.

I’m in love with him.

And he likes this better than fighting.

———————————————

Simon

Penny thinks I solve everything with my sword. But it seems I can solve stuff with my mouth too. I don’t know how long Baz and I spend kissing. Could be minutes, hours, days. All I know is that it feels really fucking good. It’s all so weird. I like Baz, in a way that involves nice words and snogging. And he likes me in the exact same way. And somehow I feel better than I have in years.

As I’m running my fingers through his hair (it’s just as soft as I thought), I start to wonder if this, snogging Baz, means I’m gay. I don’t know. All I know is that I like the way he sighs against my my mouth. I focus on that instead of everything else.

Baz is just scratching his nails across my scalp in this dastardly perfect way when the door swings open with a loud crash.

“Boys!” Penny yells. “I’ve been up all night, and I think I found-”

Baz shoves me off him very quickly. I yelp as I hit the mattress so hard I bounce. Penny is standing no more than five feet away from us, giant spellbook in hand, eyes wide behind her glasses. I briefly consider making some kind of excuse, but there’s no use. Both Baz and I probably look well snogged. And she just walked in on me hovering right over him in bed. There’s no stuttering my way out of this.

“Hi, Pen,” I say weakly. “What, uh, what spell did you find?”

She gives me a “really?” expression over her glasses. “Are we just going to ignore this, Simon?”

I glance at Baz, who is looking down and blushing very hard. I didn’t know his pale face could be so red.

“Um...” I’m at more of a loss for words than usual.

“I need to shower,” Baz says quickly. He throws off the covers, grabs his toiletries and clothes, and moves so fast to the bathroom I swear he teleports. I’m left alone with Penny, who still looks very confused and inquisitive at the same time. I’m still trying to smile, but she doesn’t look convinced at all.

“Now are we gonna talk about it?” she asks.

I open my mouth, but no words come out at all. I have no words because I don’t know how to explain this. Thankfully, my stomach growls very loudly. I jump out of bed towards my dresser.

“I need breakfast!” I say a bit too loudly. “Let’s uh, talk over breakfast. I really want scones.”

Penny looks annoyed for a second, but sighs and shakes her head. “Fine.”

She turns around so I can get dressed. I throw on my shirt and trousers haphazardly. (Weekend meals don’t require full uniforms, thankfully.) The second I’m dressed, I start speed walking out the door. Penny follows, book tucked under her arm. I really am hungry, but I also need to get away from the room right now. I need to not think about Baz in the shower right now. After this morning, I can’t think about him looking...like that.

“We’re actually gonna talk,” Penny says, “right, Si?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, Pen, yeah we will.”

Baz

I lean against the door, hand over my still rapid heartbeat. Not sure if that’s from Bunce catching us or Snow’s snogging. Snow’s rough, warm lips, tearing me apart in the best way possible...

I shake the thoughts from my head. Crowley, I need the world’s coldest shower.

———————————————

Penelope

They’re a few feet apart. Simon is sitting on his desk, and Baz is leaning against his own. It’s usual they stay far away, but it’s extremely deliberate right now. I don’t know why they feel the need. I know everything. Simon explained it all at breakfast. Though he did say it in a hushed tone in the far corner of the room. I guess he was nervous about the Mage or the Old Families catching wind that their two heirs were snogging. Can’t blame him. But we’re in their own room now. So why both Simon and Baz are looking at the floor like embarrassed school boys is beyond me.

“Oh, would you idiots stop it?” I sigh. “There’s no need to at all distant and shit, I already know you’re are snogging.”

“Only because you barged in,” Baz grumbles.

I roll my eyes as dramatically as possible. “Yeah, sorry for bringing you the solution to your bed problem. Though now I’m wonder if it’s a problem at all for you boys.”

They both blush even more furiously. Crowley, they are such disasters. I never expected these two to resolve their rivalry this way, but it kind of makes sense in a weir way. Simon has always been obsessed Baz. At least he’s channeling all that energy into something more positive now, I guess. I’m not sure how it’s going to work though. But that’s up to them to figure out.

I open the book to my marked page, and look over my shoulder. “You sure you want me to separate the beds?”

“Yes,” they both say immediately.

"Mage might barge in sometime," Simon mumbles.

"The Families have ears everywhere," Baz says, drumming his fingers on his arm, "can't risk them catching wind either."

Both their eyes flick up and meet across the room. Simon smiles soft, just tugging at the corner of his lips. And surprisingly, Baz smiles back in the exact same way, if only for a moment. Huh. Weird, but kind of sweet.

I turn back to bed, point my ring out, then speak the spell. “Parting of the ways!”

I put as much magic behind the words as I can. They vibrate through the air and hit the bed. For a second, nothing happens, and I’m worried it's not going to work. But slowly the bed starts to glow deep purple. A violet line of light goes right down the middle. They separate like someone tearing apart a wad of gum, big gooey strands slowly stretching. It’s fucking strange, and kind of cool. They warp and shift in they’re rubbery, gummy way. We watch the beds move to each side of the room. The second their in their proper place, the gooey strands snap and shoot back into the bed with a very odd “boing.” The beds wobble like gelatin for a second, then settle down. It’s completely silent for a few long seconds.

“Well,” Baz finally says, “that was interesting.”

“No shit,” Simon chuckles.

I just sigh with relief. Finally, this is all done. I can get back to studying (and beating Baz for top of the class). I turn back to the two idiots, and bloody hell, they’re fucking gazing at each other like star crossed lovers. Both their eyes are round and sad. Well, my work is done, but they’ve still have a lot to sort through.

“I’m going to do my revision,” I proclaim. “You coming down later, Si?”

Simon finally snaps out of his sad lovesick trance. “Oh, uh, yeah Pen, see ya.”

I give him one last hug before I go, giving him a squeeze of reassurance. “Bye, Si.”

He squeezes me back, thankfully. I hope he’ll be alright. We slowly separate, and Simon flashes his bright grin before he fully lets go. I know I have to go, and I do walk out the door, but part of me wants to stay. Baz better not break his heart, or I’ll bloody well break him.

———————————————

Simon

Baz and I stare at each other for awhile. Unmoving, unsure, both obviously feeling awkward as all fuck. I honestly don’t know what to do. There are so many things I want to say but the words get all tangled up in my brain. What do you say to the bloke you’ve hated for years then snogged this morning after cuddling the night before? Well, I want to say, “let’s not think about this and snog again.” But from the pensive look on Baz’s face, I think he wants to do something more talk-y than that.

“Let’s sit down,” Baz says, immediately striding over to his bed.

“O-Okay.” I scramble to follow him. We sit down on the mattress together. Baz is all straight backed and proper looking, wearing his shirt and pressed trousers with his hair slicked back. I remember how he looked this morning, messy and open. I liked the way his hair fell in front of his face in a lazy wave. I want to see that again. So badly.

“So,” he starts, weaving his fingers together on his lap, “how shall we proceed?”

I blow air out my lips. Fucking hell, is he really gonna be like that? “Seriously, Baz?”

“Seriously what?”

“Are you actually gonna act that posh and shit after everything?”

“I don’t see why not.” He crosses his arms over his chest with a little frown. His frown really is adorable. Why have I never noticed that before?

“Because now there’s, well, this.” I wildly gesture between us, because that’s honestly all I can think to do.

His eyes narrow slightly. “What’s this, Snow?”

“This!” I gesture even more wildly, probably a little bit insane. “This between us. And I like this, I like you. Don’t pretend like nothing happened and make me think I’m crazy, because we both did and said shit.”

I watch all the muscles in his body sort of shift around, but he doesn’t move anywhere. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants to get closer or further away. I wish it was closer.

“I know we...proclaimed things,” Baz says very carefully, “but there’s still realities we must deal with. We’re on opposing sides of on an oncoming war. We’ve tried to kill each other more times than I can count. This truce doesn’t change the fact that we hate each other.”

“But I don’t hate you.” I move a bit closer, and thankfully, he doesn’t move away. “At least, I don’t anymore. And...you don’t hate me either, right?”

His bored expression finally cracks slightly. Just a downturn of his lips and minute widening of his eyes. He looks down at the floor, fiddling with his long fingers. “No,” he whispers. “No, I don’t. I haven’t for a long time.”

That makes something warm pool in my stomach. “Exactly. So why do we have to keep pretending we do?”

“Because we’re supposed to, Snow.”

“Fuck supposed to!” I put a hand on his knee. He looks surprised but doesn’t flinch. “Look, I know you think we’re doomed, Romeo and Juliet style.”

“Completely,” he says to the floor.

“And if past experience is any clue, I’m not that great at being a boyfriend.”

He scoffs. His cheeks are only a little red. Guess he’s low on blood. “Duly noted.”

“But,” I put both hands on his knees, “I still want to make this work. Because doing this, being nice to each other and helping and...the kissing, has been good. I’ve liked it better. So why not give it a shot?”

“And The Old Families? The Mage? What of them?”

I nervously rub the back of my neck. “Well, uh, I was thinking if we stopped the Humdrum, maybe everyone would see we can work together.”

He rolls his eyes very sarcastically. “And the whole world of mages will hold hands and sing a song about cooperation.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, maybe something like that.” I put my hand over his. It’s soft and smooth, it feels good. “At least we can try, right?”

Baz’s thin lips purse in thought. I wish the brilliant moron would just not overthink for a second. “There’s so much we have to figure out.”

“We can do it. I’m strong, you’re smart, we can make it work.”

“There’s so much in our way.” His arms lower into his lap.

“I like a challenge.” I properly grab his hand, and he holds it back.

“There’s so much you don’t know, Snow...”

He looks ready for a blow, like something is going to smash him in the face. I shift so we’re pressed against each other. “Well, what I do know, Baz, is that you helped me find a spell, talked me through the nightmares, calmed me down from going off, and make my bad dreams go away. That’s pretty damn good.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been so articulate in my life. It’s because I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. Baz doesn’t look as sure, but I think he wants this too.

“Do you honestly think there’s a chance?” he says quietly. He sounds so vulnerable, nothing like the arsehole I thought he was.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. I move so our faces are close together. “But I wanna try. Do you?”

We’re so close. Not as close as this morning, but it still feels good. My nerves feel on fire in the best way. It’s not like going off, when I’m out of control and terrified. It feels more like just being excited and alive. Usually I’m nervous too, but not right now. I’ve never been so sure of something in my life.

Baz reaches forward. His hand hovers in the space between us. Like he’s waiting for me to push him away. I’m not going to. I don’t want to ever again. “Simon,” he sighs, “if we’re going to do this, you have to know, I’m...” he gulps audibly, “I’m a v-”

“Vampire,” I finish for him. “Yeah, I know. I’ve known for years, remember?”

He pulls back, looking very worried. “And, you’re seriously okay with that?”

I shrug. “Well, it’s weird, but I was only scared that you were gonna hurt me. If the past few weeks are any clue, I don’t think you’re gonna. You don’t hurt people, right?”

“Never,” he practically spits. “I’m not a murderer.”

“Yeah, exactly. Pretty sure only rats have anything to fear you.”

“And...you don’t think I’m...dead or something?”

I shake my head. “Nah. You’d be pretty lively for a corpse.” He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. I play with a piece of his hair that’s fallen out of place. “That doesn’t change how I feel and what I think. I still want this. I want to be your boyfriend. Your terrible boyfriend. As long as you do too.”

Baz looks at me with a soft smile. I like when he’s soft. He looks better. “You’re an idiot,” he sighs. I frown in confusion. “But you can certainly have...this if you want.”

I do.

I grab his face and kiss him. I want to kiss him so bad. Baz inhales sharply through his nose and puts his hands on my chest. For a second I’m worried he’s going to push me off. But instead he grips it tight, pulling me closer. I happily wrap my arms around his neck. Our lips move almost perfectly in sync. I feel like I’m burning in the best way. I never want to leave this room, this bed, Baz’s arms, any of it. The rest of the magical world can fuck off right now.

We eventually fall down on my bed, still kissing, laying on our sides. When we pull apart, our noses still brush together. We’re both grinning like idiots. I couldn’t be happier.

———————————————

Baz

I swear to Crowley these past 24 hours have given me whiplash. First Snow sleeps in arms, then he kisses me, then he asks to be my boyfriend. He cares for me, and he doesn’t mind that I’m a vampire. Simon Snow isn’t afraid of me anymore.

I’m living a charmed life.

I’m laying in bed, pretending to read, when Snow comes out of the shower. He’s wearing his trackie bottoms, no shirt, and drying his hair. I try not to watch the drops of water falling down his chest too closely. We may be...boyfriends now (that word still feels so amazing and odd to me) but I don’t know what he’s comfortable with yet. His damp curls fall adorably in his smiling face. My cheeks heat up. Dammit. I went to feed while he was in the shower, and now I’m paying the price. Snow grins back at me. Well, maybe it isn’t so bad.

“You already fed?” he asks while putting away his clothes and towel. It’s so weird to be asking about it so casually. My biggest secret, just a part of small talk.

I clear my throat and look back down. “Yes,” I reply.

“Good, good. What’cha reading?

“Homework.” I don’t mention it’s homework for next term. No need to rub it in his face anymore.

He flops down heavily on his bed. “Interesting?”

“Yes. Not sure you would like it though.”

“Probably not.” He stretches and arches his back like a comfortable cat. I try not to ogle his muscles too much. “I like fairytales and stuff.”

“Hm, my family library has an original Brothers Grimm fairytale collection.”

He gasps and sits upright. “Seriously?!”

“Yeah. They’re distant relatives on my father’s German side. I’ve read it a few times. It’s quite an impressive volume.”

“Cool! Maybe you can show it to me sometime.”

I lower my book into my lap. I won’t lie, the idea of Simon coming to my home, seeing the library, meeting my little siblings, maybe even staying in my room, is exhilarating. Though I know it’s impossible. I look to the side. Simon is grinning ear to ear. He’s so positive, even after everything he’s lived and still suffers through today. It’s incredible. He’s incredible. And his smile is infectious, so I smile too.

Snow lets out a big yawn and falls back onto the bed. “Ugh, I’m tired. Think these last few weeks of worrying have taken a lot out of me.”

“I’m the same,” I sigh, putting my book on the bedside table. “Though you also did study with Bunce all afternoon. How was that?”

“Alright. I’m really behind for finals, what with all the research. Sorry I had to leave after lunch.”

“It’s fine, Snow. We don’t have to be joined at the hip.” In reality, it was probably a good thing he left for the afternoon. I needed to lay down and collect myself for a good few hours. Part of my brain is still exploding. And it explodes even more when Snow reaches across the gap in our beds, hand lightly touching mine.

“You called me Simon before,” he giggles. My immediate instinct is to refuse, be mean, call him a moron. But...I don’t have to pretend anymore do I? I flip my hand and weave our fingers together. His heat shoots up my nerves.

“We don’t have to be joined at the hip, Simon,” I say with a small smile, hoping he can tell I’m joking. From his grin, I think he does. I squeeze his hand lightly. “We should go to bed. We actually have school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “stupid school.” I expect him just to let go. But instead, he rolls on his side, brings our hands between us, and kisses the back of mine. Now my entire body feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible. “Goodnight, Baz.”

I smile wider and sigh. “Goodnight, Simon.”

We gaze at each other like lovesick idiots for another few seconds. Then I magic the lights off and we both roll over. I pull my blankets up, and try not to compare their inadequate warmth to Simon’s. I remember his arms around me, and mine around his. How can I miss something so badly I’ve only had once? Though it was so incredible that one time. I want to feel his warmth again. I want him to make my nightmares melt away.

“Hey, Baz?” Simon whispers. “You still awake?”

“Yes,” I sigh. “It’s only been a minute.”

“Oh right. Um, I know this is weird, and the other times were an accident and helping me with the nightmare. And I’m not having a nightmare yet, of course. And I know the beds aren’t very big apart. But um, maybe I could- Or you could- Or we could figure something-”

“Simon.” He stops stuttering, thankfully. I pull my blankets and shuffle closer to the wall, leaving a space open for him. Maybe not a lot, but it’s enough. “Just get over here.”

I don’t I’ve ever heard him move so fast before. He scrambles out of bed and practically throws himself on mine. I even bounce off the mattress slightly.

“Sorry,” he whispers as he snuggles closer. “Night.”

He throws an arm over my side, pressing his hand to my chest. I put my hand on his. Simon’s breaths even out against my neck. Once again, he’s a long line of heat around me. I feel warm, safe, happy. All thoughts of magic and wars fall away from my mind. None of that matters, not while he’s holding me.

“Goodnight,” I whisper.

I close my eyes, sinking into the feeling of Simon Snow holding me close. I don’t think I’m going to have any nightmares tonight. Or anytime soon.

———————————————

AN: I don't do a lot of canon divergence, so this was fun. Sorry if it felt too meandering. I did my best to fix that but there was only so much I could do. Idk. I still liked it. Hope you peeps did too :)

I'm slowly working my way through the requests, but I'm starting my new job next week so it may be a bit of a wait for the next one. See y'all again hopefully soon :D

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #fluff #angst #hurt and comfort #nightmares #mysnowbazfic

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lobsters-on-their-heads · 6 years

Text

Continuing Travels of Cophine, Christmas Part 3

They spent the night at Sarah's house, on an old air mattress of hers in the basement with Helena and the twins. The Hendrixes had returned to their extended stay hotel so they could sleep well before diving back into home reparations the next day, and Cosima's parents were sent back to their hotel in an Uber. Art left early, too, so he could spend all today with his daughter. Felix was too drunk to drive, so he got the couch, and Scott got the former guest bedroom, which was normally Charlotte's.

“This feels like college,” Cosima whispered after they settled in around 10 pm.

“College?”

“Yeah, crashing in someone's basement after a crazy big day or a late party. This is an upgrade, though. Most times I crashed with a bunch of people, I just slept on the floor.”

Delphine had never slept on a floor as an adult, and only rarely as a child, if she felt asleep playing or reading. “That sounds unpleasant.”

Cosima laughed. “Yeah, it was. Especially when you wake up and realize you spent the night in a puddle of orange juice.”

Helena leaned her head over the side of her twin bed. “Where did you sleep like this, Sestra?”

“Oh, just a friend's house in San Fran after a party. There was probably vodka in the orange juice, too, but the OJ was all I could smell.”

Helena regarded her sister with wide eyes that, along with her posture, reminded Delphine of a child leaning over the top bunk to talk to a friend in the lower one. “I was made to sleep in water once, in convent. Very shallow water, this much.” She held up her fingers to show an inch or two distance. “But cold, and unpleasant.”

Cosima reached out from under the blankets and held Helena's hand. “I'm sorry.”

Helena looked over at the crib containing her sleeping infants. “They will not do that.”

“No,” Cosima agreed. “They won't.”

The following morning, with Christmas in the past and everyone moving on with real life, felt like a hangover, even though Delphine swore she'd only had one cup of eggnog. It didn't help that the air mattress they'd slept on was almost flat by the time she woke up. When she stood to use the bathroom, the remaining air in it rushed to fill her space, dropping Cosima the last few centimeters onto the floor.

They slouched around the dining room table for breakfast pancakes prepared by Scott, who was perkier than anyone had a right to be on the day after Christmas. The girls brought the kittens down for breakfast, too, and let them bounce around the main floor with the babies, who insisted on calling them, and everything else with four legs and fur, “Beh! Beh!”

“God, that's the cutest frikkin' thing I've ever seen,” Cosima groaned. “I am not ready for this much cute. Scotty, some coffee, please.”

“They kept waking us up,” Charlotte said. “They wanted to play with Montgomery, because Montgomery's awake at night, so maybe tomorrow night they'll be in a different room.”

“Who's Montgmery?” Scott asked.

“Montgomery's my spiny mouse,” Kira said. “He's from the Island of Dr. Moreau.”

Meanwhile, Delphine flipped through the forty-five Facebook pages she kept open on her phone, refreshing them and looking for anything suspicious. Many of them hadn't updated in days. Many more had Christmas messages and pictures up, each page showing the same face in varying levels of tan, with different hair styles, often surrounded by friends or family and sending the greeting in ten different different languages. Even one of the Israeli clones posted a Christmas message, but without any picture.

“I'm not allowed to be on my phone at the table,” Kira said.

Delphine looked at her with bleary eyes. “That's probably a good rule.”

“Delphine's doing clone business,” Cosima told Kira. “It's part of our morning routine.”

“You're not doing any clone business.” Kira gave her a sly smile and poured what must've been a cup of maple syrup onto her pancakes. Her mother was still upstairs, probably enjoying a rare late morning.

“Yeah, I'm being lazy,” Cosima said. “I'll do my job later.”

Charlotte took the syrup from Kira and helped herself. “You already did your job, though. You made the treatment.”

“Yes, but we need to find all the sisters to make sure they get it, and some of them might be super sick right now. We need to find out if there are any that need to be cured right away. All the others will have to wait if that's the case.”

“So that's why Delphine's on Facebook.”

“Exactly. She checks Facebook and SnapChat, and I check Instagram and Twitter. We look to see if anybody is maybe coughing a lot more than usual, or having a hard time breathing, or if any of their friends say 'get well soon' or anything like that.”

“And I try to streamline it all for them,” Scott said, setting another plate of pancakes on the table with a grin. “That part's taking some time, though. The code's too buggy right now to work.”

A little after nine, Sarah and Cal finally stumbled downstairs, bedraggled and blinking in their pajamas. The adults and Kira waved to them, but Charlotte stared, a little frown on her face. She knows what they did last night, Delphine thought. And she's just at that age when that starts to matter.

In an effort to distract her, Delphine sat down next to Charlotte's new reptile habitat. “Can I look at this?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.”

As she'd hoped, Charlotte came over and sat with her. For each item that Delphine picked up, Charlotte provided an explanation, even if it was obvious what the item was.

“Those are calcium supplements, and that's the heat lamp so it can bask. Reptiles are cold blooded,” she said, “so they need the lamps to stay warm.”

Delphine nodded. “Yes, they do. The kittens might really enjoy this lamp, too.”

As if on cue, the tuxedo kitten, tentatively named Pirate because of the black patch on one eye, jaunted over. Charlotte's smile, a rare sight, made her look even more like Cosima, but a little like Alison, too.

“Did you have pets when you were a kid?” Charlotte asked her. “Cosima said she didn't.”

Delphine hadn't known that about Cosima, actually. It made sense. She had moved semi-frequently as a child and spent weeks or months at a time out to sea with her parents. “It depends on your definition of a pet,” she told Charlotte.

Cosima padded up behind her and set a second cup of coffee on the floor next to her, then sat in the arm chair nearby, listening.

“Well,” Charlotte said, “a pet is an animal that you take care of, that lives with you, and that isn't there for food or work or anything. So, did you have a pet like that?”

She smiled at her, impressed with the comprehensive definition. “I did, but I wasn't supposed to.”

As expected, the thought of a rebellious young Delphine made Charlotte smile. “Did you bring home a puppy or something? A girl at school did that.”

“Not quite.” She took a sip of coffee. It was from a bag of beans they'd mailed up from Honduras, with a bright tone and fruity notes, reminiscent of warm mornings spent at an open-air cafe near the jungle. “I went to summer camp in the country for a few years. It was a nature camp, but most of the girls didn't really care much for nature.”

Charlotte smiled again. She knew about most girls, and about being different from them.

“One summer,” Delphine went on, “when I was ten, I found a wolf spider outside the washroom. It was the largest spider I'd ever seen in real life, outside of a museum or a book.”

Charlotte's eyes widened. This story wasn't going where she thought, and she was hooked.

“I found a paper cup in the trash and I scooped the spider into it, and put some paper on top to keep it inside, and I showed my... teachers? Is that the word, Cosima?”

“Teachers? For what?”

“At summer camp, there are children and there are adults. The children are campers. What are the adults?”

“Counselors. I think calling them adults might be stretching it, at least in the US, though. Mine were always, like, eighteen or nineteen.”

“Whatever. Counselors. I showed my counselor this spider, and she was very impressed. She went out and got me a little clear plastic box with a lid, and we put the spider in there. We said he was probably a male because there were no eggs, and the females carry the eggs on their abdomen where you can see them.”

“Did you name him?” Charlotte asked.

“I did.” She giggled despite herself. She had not told anyone this story in a very long time. “I named him Monsieur Loup.”

Charlotte laughed. “Mister Wolf?”

“Oui. It seemed appropriate. And then, when my mother's driver came to pick me up, I put Monsieur Loup in my suitcase and I took him home with me.”

She felt Cosima's foot rubbing her back. “That's adorable,” Cosima said. “How well did that go over when you got home?”

“Well, I unpacked my suitcase and put Monsieur Loup on one side of my closet, behind my shoes. I didn't tell anyone that he was there.”

While they talked, Pirate had curled up in Charlotte's lap, and his purrs could be heard across the room when there was a lull in the conversation. Charlotte scratched under his little chin. “How did you feed him?” she asked, “if he lived in your closet?”

“Well, I found a book at the library about keeping spiders as pets, so I put twigs and dirt in his box, and I caught insects around my mother's garden from him to eat.”

“And no one suspected anything?” Cosima asked.

“Not for a while. I had a lot of freedom in, euh, in some areas.” She drank some coffee and watched Charlotte pet her new kitten. “But my mother never allowed animals in the house. Of any kind, unless they were being eaten. And as tricky as I was, I was only 10 years old, so I wasn't so good about hiding. About a month after I brought Monsieur Loup home from camp, my mother couldn't find me where I was supposed to be, and when she went looking she found me in the closet looking at my pet spider, whom I had just moved into a larger tank without anyone noticing.”

“What did she do?” Charlotte asked.

“Well. Suffice to say, Monsieur Loup did not get to enjoy his new habitat, or any other habitat, for very long. And I was grounded for the rest of the summer.”

Charlotte had big sad eyes for the fate of poor Monsieur Loup, but the dorobell rang, shocking everyone.

“I got it.” Sarah shuffled over and opened the door, then came back in with two packages that she turned around a few times in her hands. “One for Kira and one for Charlotte,” she said, distributing them accordingly, “but it doesn't say from who.”

The girls tore into their new packages, Pirate forgotten for just the moment. Inside each box was a wrapped gift tied in ribbon, still with no sender's name. Kira ripped the paper from hers with the same fervor as the day before, breaking the ribbon in the process, but Charlotte proceded with caution, peeling back one taped flap of paper at a time as though there might actually be a grenade inside.

“It's a kit for making jewelry!” Kira exclaimed, holding it up for them to see. “Look, there's colored threads, and beads, and little hooks...”

“And a card,” Cosima pointed out, “on the floor now.”

While Kira looked for the card Cosima was pointing at, Charlotte removed the paper from her own gift, revealing a set of twelve water color paints with three brushes. Like Kira's jewelry set, the text on the watercolors and brushes was Chinese, or perhaps Japanese kanji. Delphine picked up one of the post boxes and saw that they, too, came from China or Japan.

“'Merry Christmas',” Charlotte read from the card attached to hers. “'You always enjoyed painting, so I hope you enjoy these paints, as well. I wish you all the best for the new year, and give my best to your sisters. Rachel.'”

Kira found her card and read it silently, her manic excitement fading.

“Is yours from Rachel, too?” Charlotte asked.

Kira nodded. “But there's no return address! She didn't say where she is now!”

“Well,” Delphine pointed out, “all of these have Chinese or Japanese script on them. And I know that she always showed a certain, ehm, fondness for east Asia.”

Scott lingered behind them, hands in his pockets. “Yeah, she always talked about having a quiet life in Taiwan. I bet that's where she is now. It was super nice of her to send you guys presents, though! She didn't send me anything.” He gave a laugh that turned into a snort.

“We can find a way to get her a message for you,” Cosima said. “It might not happen right away, and it might not be in exactly the way that you want, but we can try to make it happen.”

It occurred to Delphine that she could think of no other people on the planet who would cry at the thought of not seeing Rachel Duncan, or anyone who would miss her at all, in fact. No one except the two little girls sitting in front of her. “We could leave a message of some kind on the Foundation's website,” she suggested. “We can take your pictures and post them there. Rachel knows about it, and I believe she checks on it periodically.”

The last part was conjecture, but it made the girls relax, and it might have even been true.

* * * *

By the time Delphine and Cosima got back to the Rabbit Hole, it was early afternoon. A nap was in order for both of them, and after that a shower, and by the time Delphine felt awake enough to function again it was close to evening. While Cosima toweled off behind her, Delphine wrapped herself in a bathrobe and padded over to the closet and dug around her side of it until she found the bag she had hidden there.

“What're you looking for?” Cosima asked.

Holding the bag behind her back, Delphine stuck her head out of the closet and bit her lower lip. “You haven't paid me back yet for that bratty comment you made the other night.”

Cosima paused, her eyes moving back and forth. She wore her crimson harem pants and nothing else, and her nipples puckered as her skin cooled from the shower.

“Don't tell me you've forgotten it.”

“Wait. Oh, shit, was it that stupid Leekie comment I made?”

“That would be the one.”

Cosima rolled her head around and tried to look apologetic. “You know I didn't mean that, right?”

“It doesn't matter what you meant.” Delphine stalked over, bag still behind her. “And besides, I'm pretty sure I know exactly what your intentions were, chérie.”

“Okay, yeah, sometimes I do like to be a brat. Fair.”

“You do. And sometimes I have to make you pay me back for that. Like right now.” She took the bag from behind her and handed it to Cosima, whose guilty face lit up like a Christmas tree when she looked inside.

“Holy shit, Delphine! If this is how you want me to pay you back, I need to be naughty way more often.”

“I did tell you that you could only pay me back if you were good, didn't I?”

Cosima's canines flashed as she reached into the bag. “Yes......”

Even just watching Cosima's excitement at pulling the harness from the bag made Delphine's hips twitch. “Initially,” she said, “before you made your crass little remark on Thursday, I was going to ask you to wear it. However, since you've apparently forgotten why I slept with you the first time, you get to be on the, euh, receiving end of this.”

She sidestepped Cosima and snatched the harness, complete with all accoutrements, from Cosima's hands as she moved past her.

“That sounds, uh.... really fucking awesome, actually. Wait, hang on, there's more in that bag?”

Delphine set the harness, dildo, and controller on the foot of the bed, took a length of black satin in her right hand, and paused. Did she really want to cover up Cosima's eyes when they sparkled like this? When she knew how beautiful they would be the entire time they fucked? She had a few minutes to think about it. In the meantime, she got out the set of leather cuffs and gestured for Cosima to lay down on her back with her arms out.

Cosima was more than happy to oblige, testing out the strength and comfort of the restraints while grinning and wiggling like an idiot. “So this was the extra present you mentioned yesterday,” she said.

“Yes. I thought you might've suspected.”

“It was more hope than suspicion.” Now both of Cosima's arms were bound to the bed post, to the side and a bit above her head, and her head rested on the most comfortable pillow of the pillow menagerie Alison had donated. “I'll guess we'll see how strong this headboard is.”

“You're not still sleepy, are you?”

“Fuck no.”

“Good.” Delphine kissed her, first softly, hovering just as the point of contact with her lips, then more deeply, until she felt her resolve slipping, and she pulled away. “Because I don't plan on being quick.”

“Nnngggg......”

Yes, she thought. Perfect. The strip of black satin came out of her robe pocket after all, and Delphine tied it around Cosima's eyes, first checking that she was okay with it.

“I mean, I was really hoping to see you in that strap on,” Cosima said as the fabric covered her eyes, “but as long as you promise to wear it again....”

“If you're good.” Delphine kissed her again, then dropped some light kisses down her throat before standing up. “Now stay there.”

There was a little chuckle at the joke, but Cosima's grin had turned into a pout. A flush already spread over her chest and neck, and her left leg jiggled up and down, probably brushing the fabric of the pants against her clit. Delphine reached out and pulled her pants off, without needing to prompt Cosima to even lift her hips.

The harness took a moment to get right, even though she'd practiced putting it on and taking it off once before. The little vibrating piece in the center was turned off for now. She'd selected it with Cosima in mind, wanting to see Cosima come as Cosima fucked her brains out. With the positions reversed, she worried it would be too much for her, that it might make her come before Cosima did. She took it out, but set it close by for easy access later. Next, she made sure there was enough cushioning between the base of the dildo and her pubic bone, and then she climbed back on the bed, her knees between Cosima's calves and a hand on either side of her hips.

“Still here, chérie?”

“Oh yes.”

“Good.”

She'd debated getting a feather for this purpose, but as she drew her middle finger up the inside of Cosima's right thigh, she was glad she hadn't. Cosima's skin turned her on more than almost anything, and it was hard to hold back, hard not to just grab her thigh with both hands and chew on it.

She held back.

Cosima squirmed under her fingers, twisting her hips around and bouncing her legs, then wrapping them around Delphine's thighs and hips like a monkey. She tried bucking her pelvis up to meet the silicone cock between Delphine's legs, her core muscles rippling under her skin.

“Non,” Delphine said. “Not yet.” She pushed her down by the hips and pried Cosima's legs off of her, then wiggled down to the foot of the bed, the cock wiggling along with her. With one of Cosima's shins in each hand to get her somewhat still, she nibbled the inside of her right knee, then inside her thigh, bit by bit, her hands traveling up with her until she breathed in the rich smell of Cosima's sex a few centimeters from her face. Then she pulled back.

“You fucking tease,” Cosima said.

“Oui.” She repeated the process on Cosima's left leg, stopping again just short of her clit. This time, she didn't pull back. She blew a gentle stream of air between her legs and grinned at the frustrated moan she got in return. “I told you I wasn't going to be quick,” she said, nipping the sexy little jut of Cosima's hip bone.

Cosima's hipbones had intoxicated her from the beginning. It was those hips, moving in casual tandem with her body after Cosima striped down to her underwear their first time together, that pushed Delphine over the edge from “school girl crush I can roll with to do my job” and into “holy shit I need to be with this woman” territory. And now, both hands gripping her hips, Delphine lavished all of her attention there, rememorizing the topography of her lover's pelvis with its tastes and textures.

She looked up every so often, when she felt a particularly strong thrust or spasm from Cosima, to see her straining against the leather cuffs, the muscles of her arms and shoulders swelling against her skin.

“You're beautiful,” she whispered against her stomach.

“And you're a fucking tease.”

“I believe -” Delphine worried the skin of her waist with her teeth. “- we've already discussed that.”

There was only so much she could tease, though, before it became too much for herself. She licked and sucked on Cosima's nipples until Cosima growled and stomped her feet against the bed in frustration, Delphine's own legs keeping hers from getting too assertive. And she smelled like sex, deliciously so. It went to Delphine's head much faster than she'd planned. She'd hoped to drag Cosima along for an hour or so, frustrating her enough to approach actual punishment without causing her to really suffer. She'd done it before; she could do it again.

Yes, said the horny little voice in her head, but that was two years ago. Your endurance is too low now. You can't last an hour. You'll slip up if you try.

It was true. She moved up more to kiss Cosima's throat, her shoulders, her jaw. “Are you still comfortable?”

“My arms are fine,” Cosima gasped. “But I'm not comfortable.”

“Soon, mon amour.” She tugged on Cosima's ear. “Very soon.”

She gave Cosima a little leeway to move her hips around, feeling the jolt to her own clit every time Cosima's body bumped against the strap-on. She'd been right to remove to other piece – she would come in ten seconds once that thing went in.

“Please,” Cosima wimpered. “It's been, like five days.”

“Ohh, pauvre petit chiot.” She slid her hands up Cosima's rib cage, lightening the pressure as they reached her breasts, becoming feather-light and moving in little circles.

“NO! No no no! Don't you fucking do it, Cormier!”

Delphine fell cackling onto Cosima's body while Cosima thrashed around under her. “No?” she giggled. “Hnnnn... okay.”

She pulled herself back up onto all four and kissed her face until Cosima's breathing slowed down again. It was time to be sweet. She kept her own hips held high enough to be out of Cosima's reach, though, and slid her tongue into her mouth. The last time she'd tied Cosima up, her mouth tasted a little like pot and a little more like blood, most of the time. These days she tasted like chai tea, toothpaste, or nothing at all.

Pulling away from the kiss, Delphine shifted her weight back and stroked a line down Cosima's stomach, watching her face as she moved down past her navel. “You're beautiful,” she whispered again.

Cosima might've replied, but Delphine's fingers slipped between her legs then, and all she got out was a combination moan / gasp. Delphine stayed there for a bit, rubbing little circles on Cosima's clit with her thumb and sliding her index finger inside of her as Cosima's breath sped up and her hips bucked up to try for more pressure, more penetration, just more. And she was more than beautiful, Delphine thought.

She took her hand away, gently shushing Cosima's frustrated snarl, and grabbed the little knob the harness came with. “Just a second, chérie,” she said. It took some wiggling and a few brief pinches, but she got it into its little holder in the harness, just right so it slipped into her vagina when she readjusted the harness. It felt so damn good when it did that she gasped.

“Do not tell me you're getting off without me,” Cosima deadpanned. Her knees were bent up, so Delphine had a nice clear shot at her ass when she smacked her.

“Non. Just getting ready.”

She set the controller by Cosima's right side. By now her own hips were twitching of their own accord, so she needed to hurry up. Nudging Cosima's legs back open, she threw herself on top of her, biting and kissing the sides of her neck up to her ears before kissing her mouth again. Cosima noticed the change in Delphine's demeanor even with her eyes covered. She softened under Delphine's hands, her legs relaxed some, and when Delphine pulled back from her mouth, she smiled.

The strap-on took a bit of concentration. She hadn't worn one in two years, and even then not very often. It was average-sized, ribbed and curved, and the color of Windex. And, like all strap-ons everywhere, it obeyed the laws of physics rather than the desires of its wearer, so it took some fiddling to get it pointing in the right direction and moving the way she wanted it to.

Delphine sat back on her haunches and held the base in her left hand, fucking Cosima ever so slowly with her right hand until she was certain she was ready. Then she leaned forward, biting her lip with concentration, and guided her fake silicone cock inside Cosima's body.

“Oh, shit...” Cosima breathed.

“Alright?” Delphine asked. “Is it...?”

“It's...” Cosima's breath caught as Delphine shifted her hips. “It's fucking f... God, it's really good, please don't stop.”

She grinned and bit her lip, setting up a slow rhythm and going a little bit deeper with each thrust. As she'd expected, the strap-on itself wasn't positioned to do anything for her – the pleasure with that was watching Cosima's lips tremble and widen, and her nostrils flare as she panted. The little knob tucked into the harness and pushing against her vagina, however, nudged her closer and closer, helped along by the straps tugging on her ass. She grit her teeth and grabbed the headboard with one hand, angling her pelvis to go deeper into Cosima but also inching the inner straps up and in to rub on her clit.

“Oh mon dieu,” she whispered, followed by a ragged little whine.

“Take it off,” Cosima said.

“What?” She froze.

“Take it off, take the mask off. I wanna see you.”

Delphine hesitated, her body desperately trying to get to an orgasm and her mind fighting to stay present, with Cosima. She took her hand off the headboard and leaned her weight onto her right arm.

“Let me see you.” Cosima was begging now. “You're so beautiful when you come, please let me see you.”

“Okay.” Untying it would be too complicated, so she hooked her thumb at the bridge of Cosima's nose and pushed the blindfold up to her forehead, then smoothed out the bottom so it didn't irritate her eyebrows. “Is that okay?”

Cosima blinked a few times, her pupils contracting in the light. Then she smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Now was as good a time as any, Delphine thought, so she grabbed the little controller and pushed the top button, setting both the dildo and the inner piece to a low vibrate that made both of them gasp and moan at the same time.

“Holy shit, Delphine!” Cosima cried.

There were no more words after that. Delphine propped herself up by one arm, hanging onto the bedframe with her own, and fucked Cosima until they both screamed and Delphine banged her head on the metal bars.

She pulled out of Cosima before turning off the vibrations, and accidentally turned them up instead of off, causing another, not entirely pleasant orgasm that make her squeak like a hamster. Soon, though, she turned it off, unstrapped Cosima from the bed and herself from the dildo, and she collapsed with Cosima on top of her.

“How was it?” she asked after a few minutes, stroking Cosima's hair and removing the blindfold entirely.

Cosima chuckled. “It was pretty good once you started fucking me. I think it's my favorite Christmas present this year. How about you?”

“I think it was good, but I think we'll need to try it again to make sure.” She touched the top of her head, where a bruise was developing. At least her hair covered it up.

“Mmm. Yes. Rigorous scientific testing. You're very good at that.”

She felt Cosima's body get heavier in her arms and her breath slow. Their lamps were on in the living unit, but the lab was now dark. With some reluctance, she rubbed Cosima's arm.

“We're having dinner with your parents,” she said. “At 7.”

“It's not really a good time for that,” Cosima muttered. “We're both naked.”

Delphine pinched her side. “Little brat.”

“Yes, ma'am. I'm your little brat.”

#cophine fanfiction #orphan black fanfiction #cophine

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