Chapter Text
SIMON
Baz is looking at me in a way he’s never looked at me before.
“Do you want me to move it?” I ask, referring to the cake. (I still can’t believe that Baz Grimm-Pitch used a spell to create chocolate cake when he had access to a basically endless supply of magic).
He shakes his head. He’s looking at my mouth.
We’re not that far apart - my hand is close to his knee and my hip is settled right next to his feet, but his face is close enough that I could kiss him if I really wanted to.
I really want to.
I once told myself that I’d never make a move on Baz. Before I knew he was queer, I didn’t think he’d want to be kissed by any bloke - especially not me. Now I just think he wouldn’t want to be kissed by me. Why should he? We hate each other. (He hates me).
I’m not going to kiss him. Even if he’s looking at my mouth and his eyes are kind of wide and he looks like he’s debating if he wants to bite me or not.
I’d let him. If he bit me right now, I’d go happily.
I’ve got chocolate on my fingers and I subconsciously start to lick them.
Baz looks away from me. “Disgusting, Snow.”
I don’t think he means it.
“Sorry,” I say, the tip of my middle finger still against my lips.
Baz looks back at me, his eyes flicking down to my fingers, and subsequently, my mouth. He reaches out and pushes my hand down (softer than before).
Baz bends his legs, tugging them up so he’s sitting cross-legged and closer to me. He’s still kind of touching my hand from when he pushed it away from my mouth. (I hope there’s not still chocolate on it). It falls to my lap, his fingers pressing against my knee. Baz’s eyes keep switching between my mouth and my eyes like he’s trying to decide what will yield more results.
“Thank you for talking to my mother,” Baz says.
My eyes widen and I forget about how soft his mouth looks right now. I don’t think Baz has ever thanked me (and probably for good reason - I stir up a lot of trouble around him). I also don’t particularly want to be thinking about Headmistress Pitch while I’m thinking about kissing my roommate, but it’s sweet. I’ve never described Baz as sweet.
“Sure,” I say. “I didn’t really have a choice. She appeared and accused me of hurting you.”
Baz’s pouty mouth quirks up into a soft smile. “Either way,” he says like it’s hard to say.
It must be.
“I mean it,” I say softly. “I’ll help you.”
Baz nods. Somehow, the motion of his head moves his neck forward. He’s so close to me.
I’ve never heard Baz speak so quietly when he whispers. “I want to kiss you. Why the fuck do I want to kiss you?”
I want to laugh, but my heart’s frozen in my chest. “I don’t know,” I whisper back. Then, “Do it.”
He does.
Baz kisses me.
And it’s clear that he’s never done this before - and I’m incredibly in love with him for it (because of it, in spite of it - all of that).
BAZ
I’m kissing Simon Snow.
He’s just as warm as I thought he’d be (do I have a temperature difference kink?).
He tastes like chocolate and life .
My hand is very gently pressed against his knee and I’ve never done this before but I want his curls in my hand. I slowly move my hand up to press against the side of his face and then slide it into his hair.
Snow makes a soft whimpering sound into my mouth and it reminds me of who I’m kissing.
I’m trying to channel Snow and not think about it, but the way that his mouth is moving against mine is thought-provoking. He’s done this before - that’s for sure. He dated Wellbelove for a little while there. I’d always thought Snow was straight, but with the way he’s kissing me, I swear he’s queer (in some fashion).
Snow tugs back. “Wait,” he says. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I kissed you, Snow.”
“Right.” He swallows harshly. “Why did you do that?”
I’m still right up next to his face. “I wanted to.” When I say it, I realize that maybe it’s been true for a while. At least longer than three minutes ago. It’s a lot to wrap my head around.
Snow grins. My hand is still in his hair and I subconsciously rub my fingers against the back of his head.
“Are you gay?” I ask. It’s not that important, but I feel the need to even the playing field.
Snow shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. “Queer.”
I don’t pry.
“Can I kiss you?” Snow asks me.
I kiss him. (I’ve had Fiona describe kissing to me once and she didn’t do it justice. To be fair, she was fucking high at the time).
“Why would you be taking advantage of me?” I ask, pulling back just enough so I’m basically talking into his mouth, but I can form words without biting his mouth (which I really want to do. I want to bite to hell out of his lips and then his neck).
Snow blushes and I’m reminded of how good he looks like that. “I’ve wanted this a lot longer than you,” he says.
I don’t bother to ask what he means because I think I know.
I’ve been obsessed with Simon Snow for years. And I think it’s mutual.