Chapter Text
Simon
I’m abruptly awoken by the tinny shrill of his alarm, screaming into my ear. Bloody fucking thing!
Groaning, I pat under the pillow, blindly. Grabbing a hold of his phone, and switching it off; the room falling back into a blissful calm.
Blinking the drowsiness from my eyes, I look over him, his figure drenched in the lilac twilight. He’s definitely awake (his breath no longer coming out in slow, heavy puffs), but the traces of sleep still remain - His features softened and flat, and his hair laying in a delightfully tousled mess. For all his usual sharpness, he looks painfully sweet like this - Imperfect and honest. (Although, I'd never tell him that. He’d only be a prat about it).
Watching him, and an unnameable feeling rises up within me, clasping at my throat, and flooding my chest - The warmth of happiness, with an undeniable hint of self-satisfied cockiness. I finally did it. He’s finally mine. Or, well, I think so, at least.
I don’t think that he’d ever kissed anyone before yesterday. Not in a mean way, of course. It was perfect, everything was perfect. It’s just that he seemed a little … Tense - Like he was unsure of what to do, like he was afraid of what he wanted. So … I figure, it must’ve at least meant something to him, if he was willing to give that away. I doubt he’d go so far just for shits and giggles.
Or, I hope wouldn't, anyway. I don’t know what I’d do, otherwise. Because it definitely meant something to me. And, in my ever growing experience, something with Baz is next to impossible to ignore - He’s all consuming.
Pawing at his shoulder, I turn him over, and lay myself against him, slowly. He follows my movements, easily, sliding a hand into my hair, and twirling my curls between his finger, absentmindedly - His eyes still held shut.
Contented, I snuggle closer, pressing my ear flush against his skin, until I can hear the booming rhythm of his heart. It’s faster than usual (Again). And, while I try not to let that joyous revelation go to my head, I can’t deny the pride blooming within me, at the thought of it.
“Simon,” he croaks - His still sleep-affected voice, coming out in a low, sultry grumble. Which is, like, properly fit - My mind wandering to somewhat ... Inappropriate places, at the sound of it.
“Hmmm,” I hum.
“You’ve got to go back to your own bed.”
“Don’t wanna,” I protest, gripping his waist tighter.
Sighing, he slides a hand down my arm, prying his fingertips away from him.
“Uh huh. Sorry, Snow. As much as I’m enjoying being squeezed to death, I’d rather not have to try and explain to Daphne why you’ve snuck yourself into my bed. She might think that we were up to something.”
“I’m not sure that we weren’t, to be fair,” I giggle.
“Is that so?”
“I think you know that it is. Don’t try and play coy, muppet.”
Smirking slightly, he lolls his head down, and presses a quick kiss to my lips - Light and unhurried.
“Go on," he prods, pulling away from me. "Off with you."
Unsatisfied, I crawl on top of him, shaking my head. Sliding a hand against his jaw, I tilt his head upwards, and stare down at him, intently.
Resting his hands on my hips, he grins up at me, toothily, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, mildly.
Pleased, I kiss him properly, my lips searing against his, as he sighs, contentedly - His body flopping, boneless against the sheets.
But, much to my disappointment, he only allows us a tragically brief moment of bliss, before he's shoving my shoulders back and pushing me off of him again.
“You’re insatiable,” he huffs, laughter poking at his words. “Come on, Snow. You really do have to go and get back in your bed. If we start doing … That again, we’re just going to lose track of time.”
As much as I hate to admit it, I know he’s right - Last night went by in a complete blur. Who know's how long we were going at it for - Minutes, hours, millennia? It would've all felt the same to me. I had much more important things to focus on (Like the breathy little sounds Baz let out when I started working on his neck).
“Fine,” I moan, slipping out of the bed, begrudgingly. “See you later, then”
Glancing over at me, he shakes his head with a roll of his eyes.
"Oh don't start pouting, Snow. I’ll see you again soon - It’s not like I’m dying! Just ... Come here,” he says, beckoning me forwards with a quirk of his finger.
I oblige, thoughtlessly - As if enthralled. And he pulls himself upwards, quickly, taking me by the back of the neck, and dragging my head down to his level. With his breath fluttering against me, he presses a lingering kiss to my temple, before releasing me, once again.
“Goodnight, Simon. I’ll see you soon.”
“Goodnight, Baz,” I answer, the words latching in my throat, and coming out in a whisper. “See you soon.”
Baz
With my mind still reeling, I lay perfectly still, my eyes clenched shut in a desperate attempt to trick my body into a few more hours of much-needed sleep. When my phone starts buzzing, knocking against my bedside cabinet, noisily.
Alone, I smile to myself. It’s barely been ten minutes.
SS (5:16): BAZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
SS (5:16): I’m lonely without you :(
SS (5:17): I can’t sleeeeeep
SS (5:17): It’s so cold in here. Come and save me again! Plzzzz
I huff out a muted laugh. Doofus. How I ever allowed myself to fall for someone so utterly ridiculous, is entirely beyond me (Although, realistically, I regret nothing - I’m entirely enraptured by him. By everything about him.)
ME (5:19): SNOWWWWW
ME (5:20): It’s 5 AM! Stfu and sleep, you clingy disaster! The sooner you do, the sooner we’ll be together again. Unconscious minutes pass MUCH quicker than conscious ones, I assure you.
SS (5:21): Fineeee :( Imma set an alarm for 8 tho! So don't whine if I wake you up. Wanna make the most of today!
ME (5:22): I won’t complain, don’t worry. Goodnight (again). Sleep well. Don’t let the gargoyles bite.
SS (5:22): OH GOD! Don’t remind me about them D:
SS (5:23): Goodnight Baz xxx
SS (5:23): I had to put fake text kisses cause you’re mean and won’t let me back in your room. I hope you’re happy!
I most certainly am - Very happy, indeed.
Settling myself back down, I reach across the mattress, and tug the now-free pillow over to myself. Wrapping my arms around it, tightly, I hug it to my chest, in a poor attempt to replace the soothing warmth of him besides me. It’s nowhere near as good as the real thing (Obviously), but the pillow is still inundated with the scent of him (Woody, with a hint of apple), so I make do.
I suppose I’m not above clinginess, either.
His jaw juts against mine, determinedly, and my mind hazes over; leaving me a mess of frayed nerves and tameless sparks - A brainless, inexperienced physicality.
Floating, I palm at his trembling thighs, desperately - Earning myself a salacious growl (A sound so downright sinful, that it really ought to be illegal to make it, when there is no opportunity for me to relieve the molten heat stirring, low in my stomach). Thrilled, I grip tighter - Seriously considering just forgetting my family, and ravishing him. When there is a sharp rap on the door, flinging me back into reality.
Panicked, I shove him off of me, roughly, with a winded "Oof".
“You’ve really got to stop trying to throw me on the floor every time you get spooked, you know,” he chortles, his lips ruddied and swollen. Shit, shit, shit. Mine probably look the same.
My hands shivering, I work on re-doing the buttons of my shirt, while Snow sits, watching and laughing. Unhelpful git.
“Master Basilton, I’ve brought you two your breakfast. Are you decent?”
Vera. Fucking hell. There is absolutely nothing decent about the state of either of us!
Desperately scrubbing my mouth on the back of my sleeve, I hurry over to the door, and swing it open with enough force that she starts.
“Sorry, Vera,” I rasp, smiling forcedly. “Thank you ever so much.”
Taking the tray from her, graciously, I click the door closed and pad back over to the bed.
“What the fuck are you laughing at, Snow,” I grit.
"Master Basilton. Seriously? What even is your family?”
“She doesn’t normally call me that, div. She’s only doing it because you’re here, and Father insists that she be proper around company.”
“Sure. I believe you”
I flash him the most disdainful glare I can muster, but the sight of him grinning over at me, just leaves me beaming (So I imagine the impact is rather reduced).
“Just shut up, you prat,” I grumble, laying the tray down at the foot of my bed.
And that’s when I see it - Omelettes.
In all our years together, I reckon that Daphne has made me omelettes maybe … three times? So there is absolutely no way that this is a coincidence. She’s definitely just fucking with me.
I can picture it now, her sat there nursing a tea, laughing herself silly, all at my expense. The bloody cheek of it!
Although, to be honest, I suppose that she was overly lenient with the whole “going behind your beloved husbands back, to extend your hospitality to the moron who egged your house, just because your stepson has a crush on him” thing. So … Maybe she’s earned the right to take the piss. Just this once.
“What’s wrong, Baz?” Snow asks, the laughter wiped clean from his voice. “You look all … Grumpy. I was only teasing about the Master thing, I do actually believe you, don't worry.”
I gesture down at our plates, scoffing dramatically. But he doesn't get it - Staring up at me blankly, his face crumpled with confusion.
“Omelettes, Snow!”
“Yeah?” He drawls. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like them? … I’ll eat yours if you don’t.”
“No, Snow. I … Are you having me on?”
“No," he insists. "I don’t understand”
“Omelettes. Made of egg.”
“Yeah, but … You’re not vegan?”
I slap my head into my hands, laughing.
“For God’s sakes! Eggs! - As in the things you lobbed at our front door! ... My stepmother’s idea of a joke.”
“Wait what?!” He blusters. “She knew!”
Oh yeah. That.
“She wanted to know why I couldn't tell Father about you being here, and I couldn’t think of any other feasible excuse,” I explain, waving my hand dismissively. “She was fine about it, though - Thought it was rather funny, actually. So don’t go off on one, there really is no need. Everything is fine.”
He furrows his brow further, thinking to himself for a minute, before shrugging, and grabbing his plate.
“Okay. Well … I like omelette so … Who cares? Come on, Baz,” he beams, patting the space besides him on the bed. “Come and eat. I’m starving.”
“When aren’t you,” I tease, sliding up the bed, and tucking myself in, besides him.
Resting my head against his shoulder, he shimmies and arm behind me, and hugs me close to his side. My heart panging, eagerly, within my chest, at the casualness of his affection.
Just yesterday, an ocean of seemingly unrequited want separated us, and now we’re here. Together. Two islands joined, as if it were the simplest thing on earth.
And maybe it was. Because he doesn’t seem to understand the jolting unfamiliarity of it all - Falling into it expertly, as if he’d always known that we’d end up here, at the pinnacle of domestic bliss.
Maybe it was just me, all along- So tragically unsure of what was so plainly obvious, that I held us back. Back from all of this, just because I was scared. Pathetic.
Guilt wrenching at my insides, my eyes flicker up to his face, and everything melts away - All the could haves and what ifs, blending into unimportance. Because right now he’s here, smiling over at me like I’m the world, and nothing could be better than this.
Simon
I’ve got our joined hands pinned up besides his head, and I’m going my best to make him forget his own name, but his phone won’t stop ringing, and it’s getting unignorably irritating.
Pulling back, I scowl down at him. His eyes darkened, and a new, sweetly dazed expression clouding over his face.
“Baz,” I mumble, pressing a kiss to the jut of his cheekbone. “Do you wanna get that? They don't seem to be stopping. It might be important.”
“Not really,” he sighs, grabbing a hold of my shoulders, encouragingly.
“Yeah, but … They’ve rung you like four times.”
“And they can ring me four more.”
Stubborn. Rolling my eyes, I lean over and grab the phone, myself.
“Someone called Dev?”
He nods, leaning upwards. “My cousin. Ignore him.”
“Baz,” I whine, pushing him away from me. “What if he’s in trouble, or something.”
“Then he can call Niall. Niall will answer him. Niall isn’t busy. I am.”
“How do you know?”
“Because, unless he is with Dev, Niall is never busy,” he drones.
“But … I mean, neither are you, technically. We’re just … Well I mean, if he’s hurt, or lost, or something bad like that, and we blew him of cause we were snogging, I’d feel really bad.”
He sighs, defeated. “Ever the hero. Just … Give me the bloody thing, then.”
Sliding his legs from around my waist, he flips me off of him, with a petulant huff.
“Aw. Come on, Baz,” I coo, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. “You know I’d rather do this. Just ... See what he wants, and then we can finish what we started, stress-free. Okay?”
Raking his hand off of me, he smirks, lightly - A tell-tale flush of colour, creeping back up his neck.
“Whatever you say, Snow,” he shrugs, attempting nonchalance. “It’s your funeral.”
He’s been hammering away, angrily, at his phone screen for well over five minutes, when I decide to risk breaking the silence - My voice tumbling out, hesitant and hushed.
“Is everything okay?”
Glancing up at me, his frown softens slightly.
“Yes. Everything is fine.”
Shuffling closer, I reach over to him, and card a hand through his hair, the sleek strands twisting through my fingers, easily.
“No. Come on, Baz. Seriously … What’s wrong? I can tell that it's something - Your forehead’s gone all crinkly again, and you look … Troubled.”
“‘Troubled’,” he derides.
“Yes,' troubled', you dick.” I groan, tracing a thumb over his brow. “Just ... Come on, just spit it out. Is he hurt, or something?”
His face gnarled, he kneads his forehead with his fist, in frustration - Scrubbing the tension free.
“He says that he has something important that he needs to tell me, urgently, but he’s refusing to just text it to me. Just keeps prattling on about how it’s 'not the kind of thing you tell somebody over text'”
“Oh,” I mumble, lost.
“Yes, 'Oh' … So, now he wants me to come down to the club, so that he can explain whatever bullshit it is, to me, in person.”
Bonking his head down against my shoulder with a dramatic sigh, he continues.
“And he knows that I’m busy today, as well. I told them both about this. But he still won’t just drop it. So ... I don't know, it might be serious.”
Holding my breath, I try not to cool myself down. He told them about me?!
I’d just assumed that we were supposed to be kept a secret. Not in a shame spirally way, or anything (I mean, there’s nothing wrong with making new friends … And there’s definitely nothing wrong with snogging those new friends). But just in a … ‘You and me, are to be kept separate from the rest of each other's respective individual lives’ sort of way. I don’t really know why I thought that, though, to be honest. Baz never told me to (Or even really did anything, to make me think that he would’ve wanted me to). And, I’d been practically dying to tell Penny about all the fun we’ve been having, every time she mentioned Shepard in our Skype calls (You know, as a sort of ‘Finally, me too!’). But I just … Never did. So to hear him say such a thing, so casually - Well … It's left my brain more than a little frazzled.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Maybe.”
With a deep inhalation of breath, he grabs a hold of my hand, tracing my life line with his fingertip - His touch feather-light, and ticklish.
“I think I’m just going to have to go," he winces. "I’m sorry. He’s a proper stubborn twat when he wants to be, so I doubt he’s going to relent.”
My heart sinks within my chest, heavy with disappointment. I really had wanted to make the most of today.
“It’s alright, I understand,” I mumble. “Family is important.”
“So are you,” he blurts, without hesitation.
I crack a grin, then - My eyes narrowing with the force of it. He mirrors me, smiling shyly, and twisting his ring around his finger.
“You can … Come too, if you’d like. It probably won’t take long … Or I could drop you back home instead, if you’d prefer. I don’t mind.”
“Oh well … I’d rather stay with you, if that’s alright?” My voice teetering, uncertain. “I don’t mind going out.”
“Alright then. But … just to warn you though, Dev is an utter prat. My aunt and uncle were far too forgiving of him, growing up, I’m afraid.”
“I see,” I say, smirking. “Well … I’m sure that I can handle him. I’m used to you, after all.”
We’re just about to leave when Baz turns to me, his jaw falling slack and his eyes popping, cartoonishly wide.
“Shit,” he mumbles, snatching up my wrist, and tugging me back upstairs, urgently.
“What? What’s wrong? What is it?” I jumble, mildly disorientated.
He doesn’t answer me, though - Just keeps on storming up towards his bedroom.
When the door is closed, he grips at my waist and pushes me up against the wall, holding me still against him. For a flickering moment, a surge of excitement twists in my gut. But then (rather than giving me what I want), he’s grabbing my jaw and pushing my head to the side.
“This is what’s wrong,” he sighs, poking at the side of my neck, gingerly.
Oh right. That. Obviously.
Flashes of the night before come flooding back to me - The grinding of our hips, all the humiliating little noises, and of course, his lips clamped against my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there, fervently. My body singeing with heat, I desperately try to still my thoughts (I've already had to have one cold shower today, and I’d really rather not have to have another. Although, being around him all day, as we are now, I’m not sure that’s really possible).
“Oh well … What do we do?” I ask, my voice strained.
Smirking mischievously, he leans down, pressing quick, open-mouthed kisses along the length of my neck. His hands sliding under my T-shirt, and cupping the small of my back, warmly.
Christ, I swear he’s a fucking mind reader. And while it's definitely not helping with the whole ‘calming down’ thing, I can’t find it within myself to care.
“What you’re going to do ...” he purrs, his voice low and whispered where his lips brush against my skin. “Is take this off.”
I swallow audibly, my throat pinched with tension.
“Okay,” I breathe.
Snatching his hands away from me, he steps backwards, chuckling quietly at the sight of me, flustered before him.
“So easy to rile up, Snow,” he taunts, cradling my face between his palms. Despite myself, I nuzzle against him slightly. “I’ll go and get you something else to wear - Something that will cover it. Just one second.”
Pulling my shirt off, I wait on his bed, tracing the rolls of my stomach, bored, as he rummages through his drawers. I don’t know if Baz’s clothes will fit me, to be honest (As while he is, annoyingly, taller than me, he’s definitely a lot slimmer), but I suppose, even if they don't, I have any other choice. I didn’t exactly pack with a hickey in mind, although, I’m definitely not complaining about the unforeseen turn of events.
A moment later, I’m startled from my thoughts by him slinging something at my head, with a laugh.
“Earth to Snow,” he sing-songs. “What on earth are you thinking about? You look all glazed over?”
“Nothing important,” I say, beaming over at him.
Once again, he mirrors me, and my heart squeezes at the sight of him - Overwhelmingly bright, and happy, and open. Not a spike in sight. I love that - That I can make him smile, just by smiling at him, first. That I can make him like this. It's like a cute, lover's copycat (Although, I probably shouldn’t call it that).
Slipping onto the bed besides me, he nudges his shoulder against mine.
“Stop gawping, you. Just get dressed.”
Nodding, I unfold the bundle in my hands, and groan exaggeratedly, at the sight of it - One of those god awful, trendy high-neck jumpers. Grim.
“Baz. You can’t seriously expect me to wear this?” I whinge.
“Why not? It’s a turtleneck, Snow, not a bloody gimp suit!”
Spluttering out an embarrassed cough, I kick my heel against his ankle, lightly.
“Yeah, I realised that. But … I’ll look like an idiot. Don’t you have anything else?”
Rolling his eyes, he lulls his head to the side, grimacing.
“You -“ he says, reaching out, and sliding his hands into my hair. “- Are a fusspot.”
And then, he’s kissing me - Surging forwards, tenderly. Almost automatically, I part my lips against his, in a silent plea for more. He gives it to me, this time - Pushing against me, harder. Dropping a hand to grip at my wrist, pressing his fingers into my pulse point, firmly.
But, all too soon, he’s pulling himself backwards, again. Leaving me suspended; blinking over at him dumbly, my mouth still pursed in a frozen kiss. Tease! If he keeps doing that, I swear to God I’m gonna combust.
“You wait here,” he chirps, poking the tip of my nose. “I’ll go and get Your Majesty something more ... Suitable.”
Baz
“Stop fidgeting,” I snap, trying to knot the drawstring tighter, without accidentally choking him.
He’s got my old lacrosse hoodie pulled up high on his neck, the string pulled taut, securing the hood tight around his head - His curls squished, tragically flat against his forehead.
To be honest, he looks more than a little ridiculous (Sort of like the “Sweatshirt ear kid’ from Vine), but I keep my mouth shut. It would be overly harsh to mock him right now, considering that, technically, all of this is my fault (Although really it’s his … The fit idiot).
“I’m too hot, though,” he grouses, his lips pouting outwards. The urge to just lean down and kiss him swells within me, but, summoning a truly heroic level of self-control, I manage to restrain myself (Just about). While I’m not typically one for selflessness, we’ve already kept Dev waiting long enough, and I really can’t trust myself not to get carried away - Simon’s lips are utterly all consuming. “Don’t you have anything less stuffy.”
“If I did, I'd give it to you, but this is seriously the best I can do. I’d offer you makeup, or something, but what little I have would be way too dark for you, and Daphne doesn’t wear foundation.”
“Of course,” he laughs, scornfully. “Is everybody in your family perfect.”
“Nope. Just me, I’m afraid,” I quip, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“Arrogant prat.”
“Hmmm. That’s me, alright … Look, if you really want to, we can stop at your house and see if you have anything better. I wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t have anything better,” he sighs, frustrated. “I don’t normally have some fucking vampire bruising up my neck!”
I glance down at the floor, tucking my hair behind my ear, awkwardly.
“Sorry. I sort of got … carried away. I didn’t mean to do that”
“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I liked it, really. I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t. I will be getting you back later, though.”
“Is that so?” I ask, quirking a brow, in question.
“Oh absolutely. That … Is a promise.”
I school my face into unreadable boredom, and shrug.
“That’s not really much of a punishment, Snow. But, if it’ll make you feel better.”
He grins over at me cheekily, leaning forwards so that our lips are barely centimetres apart.
“Suggesting I promise you properly, are you?” He drawls, teasingly. “I knew you were into something weird. It’s always the prim and proper ones, who are the most depraved.”
I decide not to justify that with a response (Although, for the record, that is not at all what I was trying to imply - He’s just a horned-up menace). But based off of the stupidly, devilish grin he’s currently sporting, it’s fairly apparent that my attempt at airy aloofness has failed.
“Just … Get a move on!” I command, defeated. “Before, I change my mind, and leave you here with the wraiths.”
‘Wraiths?” he laughs. “What’s a wraith?”
‘You don’t even want to know.” I warn, smiling slyly, and moving to lean against the door frame.
At that, he looks positively stricken - His throat bobbing nervously, and his eyes blowing as wide as saucers.
Without a word, he jumps off of the bed, hurrying over to me, and shoving me out of the room.
And then, we were off.
At the gate, Simon hesitates, knotting his arms, anxiously.
Pulling him towards me, I shuffle us off to the side, behind a bush, and away from prying eyes.
“Is everything okay? If you want to go, you still can. You seem really … Uncomfortable.”
He rolls his head up towards the sky, grumbling.
“I don’t want to go, it’s just … Well, it looks, like, proper posh in there,” he winces. “Everyone will know that I don’t belong. And … Don’t I need, like, a ticket to get in, or something."
“I have a guest credit, so you’re fine. And don’t talk like that. You belong here just as much as everybody else. In fact, really, you’re better off than the rest of them - You haven’t been scammed into paying an absurd amount of money for what is, in reality, a couple of tennis courts and a shitty, overpriced bar. It’s all vanity, and no substance.”
He giggles, then, and my heart surges with feeling - Sparkling and light.
“The perfect place for you then.”
“Oh ha ha. Come on you,” I mumble, lifting his hand upwards, and pressing a quick kiss to the mole on his knuckle (I noticed it last night, and I’ve been dying to get my hands on it ever since). “Lets go and see what my idiot cousin has to say for himself.”
“Go on then, spit it out,” I call, stomping over to the two of them (Because of course he brought Niall with him); Simon trailing behind me, quietly. ‘What is so important, that you had to drag me all the way down here?”
Niall drops his racket, and turns to Dev with a guilty look spread across his face. Oh, fucking hell!
Leaping over the net, Dev smiles.
“My favourite cousin! Fancy seeing you here. Me and Niall were just about to call you.”
I glower, bitterly unimpressed.
“I’m sure you were.”
Barking out a laugh, he skips over to Simon and claps him over the shoulders.
“And this … Must be the famous Simon Snow. How are you today, good sir?”
Simon goggles over at me, gobsmacked.
“He’s fine. Don’t be annoying.” I groan.
“Did you hear that, Niall?” he gasps, his voice dripping with faux outrage. “Baz thinks I’m annoying.”
“Oh dear, my darling Dev,” he says, laughter pushing into each word. Rushing over, dramatically, and smoothing a hand over his back. “How cruel. You’re mildly infuriating, at worst!”
Pricks. Complete and utter pricks, the both of them.
“Just … Why am I here?”
“Oh. That,” Dev snorts. “ We thought you might wanna play a couple of games with us?”
I cough out a mirthless snicker.
“You dragged us both all the way out here, to ask if I wanted to play fucking Tennis. Why couldn't you just do that over text? I was busy,” I spit. “I told you that I was busy!”
“Alright, alright. Chill out, mate,” he sings, throwing his hands up in a false surrender. “I’ll be honest with you … Niall just really wanted to meet Snow. I did try to tell him, but he just wouldn’t listen. What can I say?”
Niall takes a swing at him, punching his arm, with a mumbled “Asshole”.
“That just isn’t true,” he protests.“Dev wanted to meet Snow, not me. Well … I did too. But getting you down here was completely his idea!”
Dev spins his head around, sticking his tongue out, childishly.
“Snitch.”
“If you don’t wanna get snitched on, don’t try and blame me for your dumbass ideas then, genius.”
“Look you two,” I shout, rapidly approaching the end of my tether. “I hate to interrupt your little tiff, but me and Simon are going to go.”
“Hey, hey, no! Come on … Just one game! You’ve come all this way!”
“Yeah, thanks to you!”
“Yes. Exactly,” he chirps, apparently missing the point entirely. “Come on! I’m sure Simon wants to stay. Don’t hide your boyfriend away from us Baz, that’s just selfish!”
I scoff, my stomach stooping, sickeningly.
“He’s not my -“ The words scraping at my throat, uncomfortably, I cut myself off. Silence blanketing the air around us.
While it isn't technically a lie, it definitely feels wrong to deny it so vehemently in front of him, with no real reason to do so. That would just be a betrayal of ... Whatever we are.
“Not your what, Basilton?” He goads.
Fucking Dev - The cheeky, little bastard. I’m definitely going to make him pay for this, one day. One day, soon.
I fire him a venomous glare, as a warning.
Turning back towards Simon, I shoot him a questioning look - His cheeks painted a violent shade of red, and his hands busy twiddling with the frayed edge of the drawstring. He looks painfully sweet like this, all flushed and flustered, and the thought of hiding him away is becoming increasingly appealing (They really don't deserve the privilege of him).
Meeting my gaze with a nervous half-smile, he mutters out a quiet “Sure”.
“One game,” I grit, prodding my finger against his chest. “Then me and Simon are going. No arguments! … And stop fucking laughing, Niall! Or I swear to God, I will end both of you!”
Stupid, bumbling, ridiculous morons.
Simon
Baz is squatting on the floor in front of me, rummaging through a box in search of a spare racket, and I really am trying my best to do the gentlemanly thing and not stare, but I’m failing miserably.
“They seemed nice,” I cough, attempting to ease the awkward silence, weighing us down.
He hasn’t spoken to me much at all since we’ve gotten here - And now he’s stuck in a strange, pensive silence. The deep, worried groove in his brow, back in full force.
I think he’s embarrassed, but he really has no need to be. It was pretty funny watching them winding him up. And the whole … Not denying that I was his boyfriend, thing. Well … That didn't upset me. Not at all. On the contrary, it unleashed a flutter of hopeful butterflies within me, my mind humming, happily with the thought of it. Him and Me. For real. Officially.
Definitely nothing to get all mopey about.
“Liar,” he tuts.
“Am not! They do seem nice. A little annoying, maybe. But, still nice. I mean … It’s cool, meeting your friends, and stuff.”
“Hmmm,” he hums.
I don’t really know what that’s supposed to mean, so I just decide to change the topic (We can talk about it properly later, if he wants).
“I’ve never actually played Tennis before.”
That gains his attention - Lifting his head up, he shifts his attention over to me, fully, his eyes finally meeting mine.
“Never?” he asks, amused.
“Never.”
Standing, he shuffles behind me, snaking his arms around my waist, and resting his chin against the back of my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Snow, I’ll teach you, sometime,” he breathes, smooching a kiss, behind my ear (I’m pretty sure there’s a mole there. He’s kissed it at least four times since yesterday). “But for now, I’m perfectly capable of beating the two of them alone, so you can just stand there looking pretty. I’ll handle it.””
“Aw you think I’m pretty?” I coo, jokingly.
“Oh the prettiest.”
Spinning around in his arms, I turn to face him again, rolling onto my tiptoes and kissing him- Locking my hands behind his neck, and holding him close. Humming encouragingly, his lips pull taut as he smiles against me. And while it may be more difficult to kiss him like this, it's heart-wrenchingly adorable, so I don't complain.
Tilting backwards, I beam down at him, shifting to litter kisses across his face - Starting at his forehead, moving down to the ever so slightly crooked tip of his nose, all over his cheeks, along the sharp edges of his jaw, and finally, a single kiss to the crest of his chin. Everywhere I can reach receives a little bit of love. He giggles, warbly and breathless, against my movements - And the sound makes my stomach soar.
“Come on then,” I whisper, tracing a finger up his chest, reverently. “Let’s go.”
True to his word, Baz is doing a perfectly adequate job of handling the two of them, alone.
I have been trying my best to help him too, obviously - Thwacking the ball, whenever he isn’t quite quick enough to reach it for himself. But every time I do, he just tells me off for holding the racket like a frying pan, and starts lecturing me about how I was supposed to hit it across the net (Not just upwards, into the sky). So … I’m not sure how much of a help I really am.
I’m not even entirely sure how much we are winning by, as I really don’t understand the scoring system (I mean, what the actual fuck is a 'love' supposed to be). But, if the increasingly aggravated shade of Dev’s face is anything to go by, I’d say guess quite a lot.
With a final pelt of the ball, straight into the corner of Niall’s box, Dev screeches, launching his racket into the net, in a strop (So I assume we’ve won).
Niall claps a hand over his mouth, in a failed attempt to hold in his laughter, as Baz runs over to me, grinning impossibly wide. Clapping our hands in a victorious high-five, he weaves them together and spins, sprinting onto the other side of the net - Towing me behind him, in a daze.
“We are the champions, my friends,” he bellows.
It's appallingly childish, and not very sportsmanlike, but I don't care. Laughing wildly, I join in - Grinning from ear to ear.
“And we’ll keep on fighting till the end. We are the champions. We are the champions. No time for losers!”
Letting go of my hand, Baz turns to me (A wicked glint sparkling, excitedly, in his eyes), and takes off. Running, and leaping forwards onto Dev’s back - Sending him stumbling, precariously.
“Hey Dev!” he titters, clinging onto his shoulders, tightly. ‘That’s you!”
‘Piss off,” he grumbles, shaking Baz off of his back. “You only won because the sun was in my eyes!”
“Dev, Dev, Dev,” Baz sighs, shaking his head. “I could play you a hundred times over, in perfect conditions, and you still wouldn’t be able to beat me. Don’t even pretend! … You’re only making yourself look more foolish, in front of Simon. And you know what your mother’s always saying - 'First impressions matter, Devlin! We wouldn't want you letting down the family name.' How disappointed she would be.”
Rolling his eyes with a gruff, he trudges over to the net, to retrieve his racket.
“There, there,” Baz sings, cheerily. “Come on, I’ll make it up to you. How does lunch on me sound?”
Intrigued, his ears prick up at the mention of food (As do mine).
“Go on then, Basilton," he drones. "If you insist on showing off in front of your … Whatever he is, then I won’t turn down a free meal.”
Picking at my burger, dryly, I try and refocus my attention on what Niall is saying (something about the latest Star Wars movie, as far as I can gather), but it’s hopeless. I'm done.
Everything is too hot. And the food is complete shit (The chips totally sodden with vinegar, and the burger, filled with some weird, gooey cheese that just tastes of charcoal). But worst of all, Baz has got his thigh pressed against my mine, under the table. And while I have splayed my hand out over his knee, it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. And it's driving me up the wall.
I want less of everything else, and more of him. But I can’t have it - So I just sit, sulking to myself, silently.
Knocking his knee against mine, delicately, Baz rips me from my thoughts. Are you okay? He mouths.
I nod my head, smiling weakly, but he scrunches up his face, clearly unconvinced. Stuck, he squeezes a hand against my thigh, reassuringly.
Sorry. Soon.
Finally fed up with the heat, I yank the hoodie off, over my head - Throwing it down onto the table, with a huff. Baz flusters - Scuttling to retrieve the hoody, and tapping against his own neck, in warning.
Looking over at him, I realize that it was probably not my most well thought out plan (Really, I should’ve just tried drinking some cool water, or something, first). But expecting me to sit here in a hoodie, with the summer sun pelting down on me, wasn’t exactly Baz’s brightest idea, either. So he can’t really talk.
And while I really would rather spare Baz his blushes, Dev and Niall have been exchanging knowing, sideways glances all morning - So I figure that, there really is no reason to keep hiding it from them. I mean, I’d rather face a little mockery over a hickey, than collapse due to heat exhaustion. Which I’m sure he’ll understand.
“Holy shit,” Dev cackles, smacking his hand against the table with a loud clatter. “Niall! Niall! Are you seeing this? Oh my God! Take a picture!”
“Already am,” he laughs, his eyes twinkling gleefully (He has strange eyes - Bright blue, with a slight sliver of murky brown around his pupil. I think they might be coloured contacts, to be honest, but I don’t think he’d appreciate my asking. Maybe I’ll ask Baz later). “This is one for the grandkids.”
Yanking Niall's hand towards him, Dev pinches the screen, zooming in on the photograph.
“Jesus Christ, Baz! What in the holy hell have you been doing to the poor boy? What are you … A fucking Black Widow? I mean … I know that you’re severely inexperienced, but I thought you’d at least understand that you’re not supposed to try and eat your boyfriend.”
Flashing me a look, he groans, pitifully. Burying his eyes in the heel of his palms - His face noticeably flushed.
“Okay. Firstly, Black Widows only eat their mates sometimes, so that comparison is just stupid. They don’t deserve the reputation they have,” he argues. For somebody so clearly humiliated, he manages to hide it well - His tone remaining firm and unwavering. “And secondly, I didn’t see him complaining.”
He nods over at me, then, his face unbearably smug.
Dev and Niall stare over at me, wide-eyed and grinning. And, I shrug, heat prickling against my skin, insistently. I mean … He’s not wrong. So I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say.
Baz thunks his knee against mine, again, a hint smile playing on his lips, as he does. Good. Not mad then.
“So … You two are like -“ Niall starts.
I cut him off with a shrug, not overly keen of the idea of discussing the status of our relationship, in front of them.
Glancing over at me, Baz smirks, crookedly, his leg pressing closer to mine.
“Anyway …” he drawls. “As much as I have adored spending some quality time with my two favourite imbeciles, we really best be off now. You know … People to see, places to be - All of that crap.
“Necks to destroy,” Dev chimes.
With a flick of his wrist, Baz surrenders to it - There really is no point arguing.
“Yes. Goodbye you two,” he says, standing up, suddenly, his chair scraping noisily against the floor.
Pleased, I quickly follow suit - Shovelling a final handful of chips into my mouth, and muffling out a quick a “Bye”.
Pausing and looking down at them, I can’t help but smile.
As far as meeting friends go, it’s as successful of an introduction as I could’ve hoped for (I mean, it definitely went a lot better than my meeting his father, at least). And, without wanting to sound childishly hopeful, I could see us being friends in the future.
If Baz wants us to have a future, that is ...
Turning towards him, he lifts his brow - His hair falling in a perfect, lazy wave against his forehead, and a waiting look adorning his face. I gulp, nervously, completely overcome.
I hope he does. I really, really hope he does.
Baz
Surveying the area, I brush my hand up against Snow’s - My touch present and purposeful.
He’s been alarmingly quiet the whole walk, and I’m starting to get jittery. Normally, I couldn’t get him to stop blabbering, if I paid him. So the strange, thoughtful silence is unnervingly jarring.
I knew it was a mistake to suggest that he come along, but I was just so caught up in my lovesick desperation to have him stay, that I forgot myself. And now I’ve gone and blown it! I mean, what sort of freak, introduces their … Whatever Snow is, to their two closest friends, the day after their first kiss. Talk about coming on strong - I couldn’t have made myself look more cringely keen, if I had tried! It’s no wonder he’s quiet, really. He’s probably just worrying that I’m going to take him home and skin him alive, or something demented like that, now!
I’m such a bloody idiot.
Sucking in a cooling breath, I speak, my voice falling in a hushed tremor:
“Is everything alright?”
Turning to me, our eyes meet, and I’m lost. Backlit by sunlight, his curls glow a thousand rich shades of bronze and gold. And it’s an absurd idea, really, that an earthly being should get to look so angelic. And yet, here he is - Divinely shining and resplendent, before my very own eyes.
“Do you wanna meet my friends?” He blurts, halting on the spot.
“Right now?” I laugh,
“Oh no,” he blushes. “I was sort of hoping we could just go back to your bedroom, right now. I just meant, like … Soon. Or not? I don’t know. I just thought that, at least that way it would be fair. You know … Cause I met yours, so - I don’t know it’s probably a stupid idea, just forget it.”
Nudging his chin upwards, I peck a chaste kiss to his forehead.
“It’s not a stupid idea. I think that I'd like that, actually. And as you say … It’s only fair."
“Yeah,” he breathes, clearly relieved. "Yeah. That’s what I thought. Okay ... Brilliant. You can then … Soon.”
“Brilliant,” I echo, the sappy glee plain in my voice. “Soon.”
Simon
Jabbing a finger into the tight, ticklish curve of his hip, I snatch his attention away from the screen (We’re watching Titanic, because Baz said it was a ‘romantic classic’, but I don’t really know why. It’s mostly just depressing, to be honest. And I’d really rather be doing more entertaining things with him, right now).
“What are you after?’ He asks, peering behind his shoulder.
Tugging him towards me, I roll him underneath me, settling myself over him, on the bed.
“You."
Smiling demurely, he bites down on his bottom lip, softly.
“You already have me."
“I know,” I sing, leaning down, and kissing him again. Pouring everything I have into it - The bolts of mad energy humming under my skin, the treacly warmth swelling in my heart, the joy sparking in my head. Every last drop. All of it, just for him. All of it, because of him. “But actually, I meant that … I’ve been thinking, some more -“
“Rare.”
“Shut it, wanker!” I scold, “I’m trying to be serious.”
His eyes softening, he mimics zipping his mouth shut, and gestures for me to continue, with a flourish.
With him staring up at me expectantly, I swallow against the thorned knot in my throat, newly nervous.
“It’s just … I mean … Do you fancy giving this enough go?” I splutter, blood pounding, angrily, within my ears.
Shit. I didn’t mean to say it like that. That was supposed to be the joke that I made at the end - After all the serious, soppy shit. Not before. I mean … For fuck’s sakes! I planned all of this out, perfectly, in the mirror this morning, and I’ve still managed to mess it up! What a fucking mess.
Lifting his brow, he smirks up at me, cheekily.
“Giving what another go? … You know, vagueness gets you nowhere, Snow. Use your words.”
Whining, I hide my face away, in his pillow.
He does know what I mean, of course. But clearly he's chosen to be as difficult as possible. The twat.
“Breaking up with you was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”
“You made?” He asks, outraged. “No, no, no. I broke up with you, not the other way around! As I recall, you rather deserved it, too - You were a terrible boyfriend.”
“Really?” I tease, brushing my nose against his.
Gulping audibly, his eyes flutter shut, as he nods, wordlessly.
Thrillingly smug, I bite down against his lower lip, tugging it outwards, slightly. Admittedly, it's a pretty weird thing to do to - Biting your maybe-boyfriend. But the tightening of his grip against my arms, and the shaky gasp he let's out, are definitely reassuring signs (So I don't think he minds, that much).
“You’re evil,” he whispers.
Humming, I shimmy downwards, pressing against him, and sucking a trail of pinching kisses along his neck. They're not forceful enough to bruise, just yet - Although, I do fully intend on getting my revenge, in that way, later.
Stopping, I grin down at him - His face pulled into a frown, and his usually pristine hair laying, delicately mussed against the pillowcase.
“What are you doing?” He complains.
“Come on, Baz,” I whine, poking at his cheeks. "This is getting us nowhere.”
“I beg to differ.”
Throwing my head back, I scoff, jokingly.
“Just … How do you feel about giving me another chance? Another chance to be your terrible boyfriend all over again.”
He pauses, scrubbing at his chin in a mock thoughtfulness. Stilling - I stare, breathless.
And then, something wicked flashes over his eyes, and he jumps me. Tackling me onto the mattress, and pinning his weight down, onto my hips.
“Go on then, Simon,” he purrs, his breath puffing cool against my lips. “I reckon you’ve earned another chance.”