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Baz
I don’t know how Snow does it, but he’s gorgeous even when he’s disgusting. He’s dozing on the couch, arm hanging off the edge, snoring loudly, drool dripping from the corner of his lip (mouth breather), and he’s still the most beautiful thing in the entire world. I’m sitting on the floor next to him, playing with his hanging fingers. I’m technically watching the end of “UP” but I’m more focused on him. Simon Snow, a snoring, drooling, handsome Disney prince.
I shouldn’t be surprised he passed out so easily. Greek takeaway always makes him slip into a food coma. But I know he can’t sleep on this couch. It’ll hurt his neck and give him a headache. Then he’ll be all mopey tomorrow, calling me to ask if I can come over after school to comfort him. Of course I would come over, but I’d rather him not be in pain.
Carefully, I shake his shoulder. “Snow,” I whisper. “Snow, wake up.”
His face scrunches up and he grunts with annoyance. “No.”
“You need to go to bed, Snow.”
He groans low and deep. “Don’t wanna move.”
I sigh. “You have to get up, or you’re going to have a crick in your neck again.”
“That happened once.”
“And it will happen again if you sleep here. Get up.”
He groans again even louder. With dramatic effort, he rolls onto his side, slightly crushing his wing. I expect him to swing his legs off the couch and slouch his way to his bedroom. But instead, he lifts his arms up, flexing his hands.
“Carry me?” he asks sleepily.
I cross my arms. “Seriously? Are you five?”
He whines in that utterly pathetic, utterly adorable way and keeps grabbing at empty air. I sigh very dramatically, so he knows this is under reluctance. “You’re so lucky I love you,” I grumble.
Carefully, I put one arm under his knees and the other around his back. He’s easy to lift up (hooray vampire strength), but the wings are a bit more of an issue. They smack me in the face at first. I grumble and try to push them out of the way. I usually quite like the wings (not that I’ll admit it out loud), but right now I have to strain up to see what’s in front of me. Aleister Crowley, this is a bad idea.
Snow’s arms wind around my neck. Suddenly, I feel his nose nestle under my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine. He curls into me like an affectionate cat. His warmth overwhelms my hypersensitive body. Okay, maybe this is somewhat alright idea.
Very slowly, I make my way down the narrow hallway. I do my best to keep Snow’s limbs and dragon appendages from hitting anything but it’s difficult with my lack of vision. His foot bangs sourly on his bedroom door frame, and he hisses into my skin.
“Sorry, love,” I say.
“S’fine,” he replies. Lucky for me he’s more forgiving when he’s tired, and he’s more forgiving of me now that we’re dating.
We reach Simon’s very messy bed. I lower him down on the rumpled sheet, careful to not crush his wings and tail. I don’t bother with the blanket. Snow, despite his name, runs incredibly hot. After getting both his legs on the mattress, I lean down and press my lips to his forehead. He’s so warm, like the soft glow from a fireplace.
“Goodnight, Simon,” I whisper against his skin.
I start to stand, but Snow’s arms suddenly tighten around my neck, keeping me kneeling and choking me. “No,” he whines quietly, “stay.”
My blood suddenly goes even colder than it already is. That word sends me into an odd sort of panic. What does he mean by that? Stay here uncomfortably kneeling? Kiss his forehead again? Or, stay the night, in his bed...
Fuck. That’s not something we’ve done before, not really. I slept in his arms at Christmas, but I don’t really count it. I was restless for an hour then panicked and went to my bed. And in the month Simon and Penelope have had this flat, he’s never asked for me to stay. I may have shared a room with Simon Snow for years, but I’ve never slept in his bed, and the idea of doing so is both exhilarating and terrifying.
“What do you mean?” I ask with only a little quiver in my voice.
“Stay,” he says again.
I sigh heavily. He’s even more inarticulate when he’s sleepy. “Please elaborate, Snow. Do you want me to stay kneeling on this cold floor? Because it’s very uncomfortable.”
“No.” He pulls me closer, forcing me to nearly bend in half. “Sleep here. With me.” His eyes slide half open, nervously biting his lip. “I-If you want, that is...”
Bloody hell, what do I want? Obviously I want to stay. I always want to stay with Simon. But I’ve never really shared a bed with someone in a romantic context, except that one time where I freaked out. What if I do it wrong? Is there a way to do it wrong? There has to be, and I’ll probably do it. I’ve done quite a lot wrong in regards to Snow, romantically and otherwise. But I want to. If he wants to.
“If you really want me to,” I ask quietly.
He presses my nose into my cheek, sighing against my skin. “I really do.”
Fuck, guess he does want to. That’s not scary. Not at all. “Okay.” I start to stand up, but Snow keeps his arms tight. “Snow,” I chuckle, “I have to get up to change. I’m not sleeping in jeans.”
“Mm, fine.” He lets his arms fall like limp noodles.
“May I borrow some of your pyjamas? They are mostly clean right?”
“Yes,” he grumbles. “Tosser.”
I chuckle as I walk to his dresser. It looks like a tornado hit it, sleeves and pant legs spilling out the sides, but that’s normal. Luckily they do smell clean. I pick out a long sleeve shirt and some trackies. I look over my shoulder, just to check that Snow still has his eyes closed. Good. We may be dating, but he still hasn’t seen me in my pants. I’m already sleeping over and that’s enough for me tonight. Baby steps are necessary so I don’t completely panic.
I quickly take off my clothes and replace them with Simon’s. They’re soft, and warm, and they smell like him. I press the shirt collar to my nose and quietly sniff. Fresh baked cinnamon rolls, pulled straight from the oven. Yes, that’s definitely Simon. Not sure I’m going to give this shirt back. I walk to the bed, where Snow is all spread out like a starfish. I sigh heavily.
“If you want me to sleep here, Snow, you have to make room,” I say. Snow makes an annoyed noise then rolls on his side, leaving a space for me. Problem is he’s still on top of the blankets my much colder body needs. I sigh, then try to pull the quilt down. Snow, tired as he is, offers minimal help, lifting his legs and hips slightly. I eventually do get under the covers, laying my head on the pillow. And I freeze.
Fuck, this is actually happening. I’m in Snow’s bed, under Snow’s too thin blanket, head resting on Snow’s lumpy pillow. This is incredible and absolutely paralyzing. Literally. I’m completely still, like a statue. Body straight, hands over my stomach, staring up at the patchy ceiling. I can feel Simon’s heat radiating off him right next to me. I want to reach out and touch him, but I don’t know if I’m allowed. I’m not even sure how to ask.
“What’s wrong?” Simon whispers. I turn my head, and he’s looking at me. His eyes are only half open but his brows are pulled together.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I reply.
“Bollocks. You look more high strung than your violin.”
I don't know how he’s this articulate when he’s tired, but it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let this go. His furrowed brow isn’t settling. “It’s not that bad,” I say quietly. “I’ve just, never slept over with someone I was dating, obviously. I’m not sure what to do.”
He frowns slightly. “You slept in my arms at Hampshire.”
I chuckle quietly. “Yes, for an hour before I got uncomfortable and scared and went to my own bed.”
He frowns even more. “Are you scared now?”
“No, love, no. Just, nervous. You’re my first boyfriend, all of this is new for me.”
Simon’s eyes open wider. He still looks concerned. He shuffles a bit forward, then reaches out and taps hand against mine, something we do to reassure each other. It started when Simon was first recovering from the Mage debacle. He would lay in bed for days not speaking, and I was unsure what I could do to help. So I started just brushing my hand against his, silently letting him know that he wasn’t alone. Eventually, he started brushing my hand back. Now it’s our nonverbal way of saying, “I’m here for you.” I smile softly at him, and tap his hand back.
“Thank you, love,” I reply.
He smiles back, the worry finally melting from his face. “I do get it,” he says, so quiet the words only fill the space between us, “it was freaky for me too. But I promise you sleeping next to someone isn’t that freaky. It’s nice, really.”
I have to suppress the sting of jealousy in my gut. Yes, he would know, because of Wellbelove. Who he slept next to and fawned over while my heart broke. I can’t really blame him, he didn’t know how I felt. In fact, I did everything in my power to make sure he didn’t know. But he knows now, and he’s good to me. So the sting fades quickly.
I firmly grab his hand, his heat spreading over my palm. “I’ll take your word for it, Snow.”
His lips twist in thought. I can see him trying to sort through the beautiful tornado that is his brain. “You can, uh,” he starts, “we could, try stuff.”
I inhale sharply. Oh fuck. We just started snogging on the couch occasionally. Anything more definitely requires more time and discussion. Simon must see my panic because he immediately moves closer and starts shaking his head.
“No! Not like that, definitely not like that.”
“Okay, good,” I sigh. “Even if we were ready for anything like that, I think the Greek food wouldn’t be happy.”
He giggles. It’s such a beautiful sound. “Yeah, you’re definitely right.”
“So what in Merlin’s name are you talking about, Snow?”
“I mean, mostly what I like about sleeping next to someone is like...touching and stuff. So we can try that, if you want.”
That makes my heart pick up in a completely different way. “So, essentially, you want to cuddle.”
He smiles and squeezes my hand. “Yeah, pretty much. I’d like that a lot. Would you?”
I chew on my bottom lip, running my thumb over the back of his hand. Why is this so frightening? Why do I make things so hard for myself? I can do this. I won’t mess it up. “Yes, I do.” He grins. “I just don’t know how it’s going to work.”
“It’s just cuddling, Baz, not rocket science.”
I give him a pointed look, then reach up to flick the corner of his wing. He hisses slightly. “I mean your extra appendages, Snow. You’ve said they make sleeping alone hard, so I can’t imagine adding me into the mix will help.”
“Hm, yeah, I guess.” I watch him think about it. Well, I assume he’s thinking about it. I’ve always assumed his thoughts resemble his disjointed rambling, if he thinks it over at all. Usually he just does the first thing that pops into his big beautiful head. But right now he’s taking awhile. I lose some interest and look back up at the ceiling.
“Oh,” he says, and before I can ask what “oh” means, I have an entire teenage boy on my chest.
“Oof!” All the air is suddenly forced out of my lungs. Snow has decided to sprawl himself on top of me. His head is on my shoulder, our chests are half pressed together, and the rest of his body is just straight up crushing mine. I flinch when his wing joint gets nearly hits my face. I can’t even revel in the fact that Simon Snow is on top of me because I’m just struggling to breathe.
“Snow,” I say, voice strained, “I can’t breathe.”
“Oh, sorry!” He rolls back onto his side., and I take a deep breath. “Sorry, I thought, you know, vampire strength and all.”
“Vampire strength doesn’t negate the need for oxygen. What even was that?”
He shrugs, obviously embarrassed. “I don’t know. I usually sleep on my front, and I wanted to be near you, so I thought maybe...sorry...” He shrugs again and I sigh. Typical Simon. Nice thought, poor execution.
“It’s alright. Let’s just find a way that’s not going to crush me.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “that sounds like a good idea. How do you want to?”
It’s my turn to shrug. The habits you pick up from your partner are astounding. “I don’t know. You’re the expert.”
He scoffs. “I’m hardly an expert, love. Me and Agatha didn’t get much alone time with the Humdrum and all that.” He looks me over again, then just throws his arm over my side. It’s a nice sort of comfortable weight. But that’s all he does. “How’s this?”
“It’s...alright. But, I wouldn’t mind if you were closer.” Fuck, I had enough blood earlier to let me blush, and that was a mistake. I’m more red than a tomato. Snow, the bastard, is grinning at me with utter amusement. He shuffles closer so our bodies are lined up, throws a leg over mine, and tucks his head under my chin. It’s kind of like he’s climbing me. He moves my arm so it’s over his side. Our other arms are somewhat uncomfortably tucked between us.
“How’s that?” he asks.
Well, it’s nice having him this close, of course. His warmth wraps around me like a cocoon. I can feel him playing with my t-shirt. I like the way his hair smells, all fruity because of his shampoo. This is similar to how we slept at Hampshire. But, it’s still paralyzing in a way. We’re so intertwined, no space between us, no room. I’m scared to move a muscle in fear of breaking the moment. I don’t think I can sleep like this.
“It’s nice,” I whisper, “but it’s not ideal for sleeping, sorry.”
Simon shakes his head. “It’s alright. How about, uh, you hold me from behind?”
“You mean spooning?”
“Is that the word for it?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Snow. That’s the word according to the dictionary.”
“Then yeah, that.” He lightly flicks my side. “Also, you’re a dickhead.”
I snort. “Yes, we’re both very aware of that.” My fingers run up his back, and I brush the base of his wings. Snow jolts slightly. Hm, okay, that’s something to investigate at another time. “Though spooning you sounds nice, these might get in the way.”
Snow flapped the wings slightly in annoyance. I will say, inconvenient as they are, they do look quite majestic. “Hm, yeah, I guess. What if I, uh, held you from behind?”
“So, you want me to be little spoon.” I can’t help my blush spreading at that thought. There are so many things I assumed I’d never get to do with anyone, let alone Simon. It’s incredible. Nerve wracking, but incredible.
“Yeah, I guess,” he says. “Spooning is a weird word...”
I scoff though it’s halfway to a chuckle. “It’s just a word, Snow.”
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t get it. Like why do you need a weird word for cuddling? It’s like- I don’t-”
“Simon,” I sigh, cutting off his rambling, then turn in his arms, “shut up and spoon me.”
I hear him laugh, then feel his arm flop down over my side. Slowly, Snow shuffles closer, figuring out how to arrange himself around me. His chest presses against my back and fits one leg between mine. It’s nice, though I have to actively not think about how close his crotch is to my arse. There’s an inch or so but still, we’re quite close. His arm tightens around my stomach. He’s a long line of heat on my usually cold back, and I like it quite a bit.
“This good?” he asks.
I reach down and fit my fingers in the spaces between his. “Yeah, this is good.”
I inhale sharply when I feel his nose press against my neck. He rubs it against my skin, small exhales tickling me. “Good. Let’s finally sleep.”
“Agreed.”
I let my eyes slide shut, sinking into Snow’s heat and soft skin. The nervousness fades away with every breath I feel against my neck. This is still a lot for me, but I don’t feel as overwhelmed. I have room to breathe and adjust while Simon is surrounding to me. Maybe we could sleep like this again sometime.
Just as I’m just about to drift off, something brushes against my shoulder. I crack open my tired eye. Simon’s wing is draped across me, covering a good portion of my torso. Luckily his wing joint is on my shoulder with little risk of it reaching my face. It’s more like an extra blanket than anything. Right, Snow’s wings relax more when he sleeps. But that doesn’t seem to apply to his tail. I almost yelp when I feel it slither between our legs and wrap around my ankle. It’s sort of adorable, both are. And I’m smiling as I drift off to sleep.
I wake up feeling warm. That’s unusual. I tend to wake up being a bit chilly. As I return to the world of consciousness, I feel something on my side. My eyes slowly open. There’s an arm draped over me, a leg on top of mine, and a leathery tail loosely holding my ankle. It appears Snow has rolled onto his front in his sleep. I’m on my side, hand on Snow's upper back. I've got a lovely view of his beautiful visage, smushed into the pillow and drooling. Crowley, I love him.
I don’t move for a little while, just watching him. Fucking sappy, I know. But I've spent years watching Snow sleep, and I've come to enjoy it. It’s so much better now that I’m allowed to. Eventually I can’t help but reach out and run my fingers through his bedhead. He stirs slightly, tilting up towards my hand, and I can feel his arm tightening.
“Mm,” he says into the pillow, the corner of his lip pulling up. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I whisper. It’s so bloody soft I should be disgusted with myself. But it’s Simon. I can let myself be soft with him.
He slowly runs his hand up and down my back. Even through the shirt it feels like sparks on my skin. “I like this.”
“What, the shirt? It’s your’s, Snow, I hope you like it.”
“No, arsehole.” He moves closer, our noses are nearly touching. “I like you sleeping here, and waking up next to you. In a good way, not like back at Watford. Do you? Like it?”
I reach out and trace a single finger on the base of his wings. Snow inhales sharply. I feel the deep shiver that reverberates down his spine. “Yes, I certainly like it too.”
“Bastard.”
“Yes,” I move even closer while rubbing his back, “but you like me.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. He rolls fully onto his side, wing stretched out and covering us both, “I do.” He pulls us so we’re pressed together, legs tangled, his tail firmly holding my calf. “I love you, Baz.”
Those words don’t shock me like they used to. It’s not a secret or a surprise, just wonderful. He loves me. Simon Snow, the chosen one, the centre of my universe, loves me. I cup his pretty face, covered in beautiful moles and awash in sunlight bleeding in through his wing. “I love you too, Simon,”
I’m not sure who kisses whom, but it really doesn’t matter. We both want to. How could we not? There’s absolutely no urgency to it, our lips lazily sliding together. I twist a few of his soft curls. I revel in every time Simon sighs between our mouths. He rubs my back and stomach. His fingertips dance just under the hem of my shirt (his shirt). I think it’s his silent way of asking permission. I’m seriously considering pushing his hand fully under it, when there’s a loud knock at the door.
“Simon?” Bunce asks. “Are you up? I’m making tea.”
I sigh as I reluctantly pull away from Simon’s mouth. “Yes, Bunce, we’re awake.”
“Oh. You’re here, Baz?”
“Obviously.”
Snow pokes my stomach. I hope he doesn’t notice the way it makes me shudder. (My stomach is so bloody sensitive, and if Simon knows just how much he will exploit it ruthlessly.) “Ignore him, Pen,” he calls out. “Earl grey tea would be lovely, thanks. We’ll be out in a bit.”
“Alright, will do.”
I crane my neck “Aren’t you going to ask what kind of tea I like, Bunce?”
“You’re assuming I care.”
Her footsteps fade away. I huff and flop down again. Snow’s arm is still draped across my side. I expect him to smiling smugly, making fun of me. But he isn’t. He still looks all soft. My heart melts in my chest.
“I liked you staying,” he whispers.
I sweep my thumb over his rosy cheek. “Me too.”
His smile somehow gets even brighter. It’s a miracle I don’t go blind. “So, could we make it a more regular thing? And maybe I could stay at your place too?”
This man is so adorable it’s criminal. Any fear or nerves are gone now, part of me wondering why I even had them in the first place. I lean forward and kiss my favourite mole on his neck. “Absolutely.”
He tilts his head, pulling me into another soft kiss, and the world fades away, completely condensing down to our bed.