Chapter Text
March 2014
BAZ
It was an ordinary day when it happened. Or rather when it started.
It was completely uneventful. It was just Snow and I, sat on the sofa of our flat. He was leaning into my side as stray strands of his bronze curls occasionally grazed the underside of my jaw, while my left hand rested on his hip, all the while my thumb absently draws small lazy circles upon it.
My right hand held the remote, having my elbow perched onto the arm of the sofa letting it support Simon's weight on me. The telly is all but white noise as I'm lost in the impossibility of the life I'm now living. The life I'm living, with Simon Snow.
It's an awful, domestic bliss. And I wouldn't change it for the damned world.
I flip the channels without much thought, I land on one and let it play whatever's on for a couple minutes until I grow bored from its mediocrity and move onto the next.
Sometimes I hear a few faint disapproving grunts from the boy tucked in beside me whenever I switch from one he apparently drew interest in. I let out amused scoffs at this and he lightly hits my chest in defiance.
He doesn't do much else about it though, doesn't tell me to switch back. Just a few 'harrumph's and 'hmm's every now and then. I doubt he even notices he's making these noises.
He readjusts himself a lot and squirms further into my side if that's even possible. He's always so close to me, yet it's never too close for him. He'd crawl into my own skin if he deemed it possible. I'd let him.
I switch channels again. He doesn't speak. He nudges, he sighs, he clicks his tongue. But he doesn't speak. Though sometimes I think these may qualify as a whole new language set by him alone. It's one of those days where the flat is deafeningly quiet besides the ones that comes out of him.
A comfortable silence. One shared and intimate. Some sentences delivered through knowing glances and soft, lingering touches.
It's Snow's language of having no language, and he taught me how to be fluent in it.
But now the telly was broadcasting the news, two reporters talking aimlessly on current events I've heard already, or know of from the papers dropped off on our front door that I read every morning during breakfast.
We truly are disgustingly domestic. I's almost comical.
I raise the remote as I was about to switch the channel again when Snow's hand jerks from his side to place it over mine to stop me from doing so. I shoot him a quizzical glance, expecting at least a glare thrown my way but he's not returning the attention. He has his eyes trained on the screen, the corners of his mouth slightly twitched downwards, frowning at the telly in focus.
I give full attention to the news now, curious as to what's gotten Snow so intrigued by it. And I realize the reporters are talking about the legislation of same-sex marriage that the Parliament has passed around last year, and has now apparently come into its force.
I know this already, of course.
Still, my eyes still widen just a fraction. My brows shooting up a mere second. I saw it on today's paper but for some reason I kept off from telling Snow across the table.
It's not exactly something that you just bring up casually, like
"The State League won the championship apparently,", or "Have you heard about the robbery down the street?," or "Sam Smith's about to drop a bloody album, Snow."
Not
"The Legislation on same-sex marriage passed. Will you marry me, you idiotic git?"
No.
It's big news. It's a big change.
It's amazing.
And it makes everything all the more real. I've always known Snow would be the only person I'd spend the rest of my miserable days with. He's the only one who's able to make it less so.
The day I realized I was in love with him when we were still in Watford was the day I was sure of it. That I needed him. In every way. That I'd spend every waking moment of my life knowing I belonged to him completely. Even if I was readily accepting that he'd never belong to me.
But the universe was kind enough to let me have it. To let me have him. Of all the hells the universe made me cross, it has given me something I'd crawl to hell and back for a million times over.
I guess it never really mattered to me whether the legislation would be approved or not. Because things wouldn't change, not really. A marriage certificate– or the lack of it, wouldn't change my love for him. Nothing will.
But it was approved. And it does change things. Because I'll be able to call Snow my husband, for Snake's sake.
No longer my terrible boyfriend, but my terrible, terrible husband.
Crowley, and here I thought my life couldn't get any more charmed than it already is.
As if hearing my thoughts, Snow sinks further inwards and lays his head on my chest. He curls his fingers in on mine that was clutching the remote, making me let go of it so he can hold the back of my hand. He keeps it there.
He shifts closer to me and I hear his smile more than I see it, the sound of lips parting from wet teeth.
I know he's thinking the same thing I am. But it's still too soon to say anything about it, how it could be about us. But it doesn't stop us from thinking it anyways.
Even after hearing the news, he still doesn't breathe a word. I give off a small huff in amusement. It really is one of those days.
Instead he starts humming. Humming happily to a tune I've never heard, probably something he's making up in his mind as he goes. I feel the corner of my mouth twitch upwards. And I let myself lean down and kiss the top of his head. He squeezes the back of my hand once and nestles his head into my chest contentedly. He continues to hum and I feel it vibrating up to my own throat.
I'm marrying Simon Snow.
I don't know when yet, nor how I could possibly ask him.
But I will.