Chapter Text
I feel Baz shift next to me. The edge of his bare arm, slightly brushing along my own arm. It’s as if I’ve just touched a live wire. I immediately, as naturally as I can make it seem, pull my arm back and across my chest in a sort of semi-hug. I breathe in deeply.
“It’s bloody cold out here! Those charlatans couldn’t have decided to burst the water pipes on a warmer day?” Baz asks rhetorically.
I scoff, glancing back at him. His breath puffing out in white clouds, almost matching his skin tone. Under this moonlight, he looks out of this world, it’s a blessing and a curse. He’s only wearing an undershirt and some fancy silk pyjama trousers, because of course, it’s Baz. His hair is cascading down, framing his face to rest on top of his shoulders in a sleek black wave. I sigh. It’s going to be a long night.
“Want a picture Snow? It’ll last longer.” he says smuggly, topping it off with one of his signature smirk.
“Oh shove off Baz.” I say through gritted teeth, feeling the blush settling upon my cheeks.
A couple of idiots had the brilliant idea of trying to spell the tap water purple, which resulted instead in a flood that took the entirety of Watford. There’s at least a meter of fluorescent pink water occupying the halls of the school as well as the dorms. They managed to summon a tsunami worthy amount of water yet failed to get the colour right. It’s kind of funny when you think about it. I snap out of my reverie when I notice Baz has started shivering besides me. I think I can hear his teeth chattering as well. He’s a vampire, isn’t he supposed to be cold-blooded or something?
“You doing fine there, mate?” I ask, trying to seem indifferent.
“I’m fine and dandy, it’s so kind of you to ask. Your concern is greatly appreciated. This is exactly what I needed to hear to warm my cold dead heart.” he retorts sarcastically, still visibly tormented by shivers.
“Ha! So you do admit that you’re a vampire! If I had known all I had to do to get a confession out of you was throw you outside in the cold practically naked, I would’ve done it sooner.” I say victoriously.
He seems taken aback for a moment.
“Crowley, Snow you’re an absolute moron. It’s an expression, have you ever heard of that word before?” he scoffs “I thought you couldn’t get any more dense, obviously I was mistaken.” he quips back.
Oh.
He is kind of right but I can’t let him know that so… I have to come up with the greatest comeback I’ve ever thought of.
“Your face is dense.” I say instead.
Great job, Simon. You fucking aced it there!
He doesn’t even bother to respond, just looks at me like I’m the biggest idiot around. I don’t blame him, that was weak and quite frankly, ridiculous. Strangely enough, as I hold his stare I see something else in his eyes rather than unshielded hatred. It almost looks like exasperation? No, more than that. Aleister Crowley, is that fondness? Before I can further entertain the thought, his teeth start chattering again.
To hell with it!
I take a step closer to him and before he can complain about my proximity, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in, my chest flush to his. I feel him stiffen. He place his hands on my chest, ready to push me off.
He doesn’t.
A warm feeling floods me. I try to ignore it and try to revel in the fact that he didn’t punch me. Well at least, not yet.
“What, what are you doing?” he says, discomfort in his tone.
I ignore him for a moment, sliding my arms from around his neck slowly to around his middle. My hands clasping behind him.
“Warming yo-us up.” I try to say casually. I hope to god he can’t feel the hammering of my heart. Merlin, what was I thinking?
“You do run hotter than a furnace. I guess it makes sense...” he says, seeming unsure. I can’t see his face but I can bet 5 sour cherry scones that he’s grimacing. I’m still surprised he stayed put.
Tentatively, he wraps his arms around me and I take the opportunity to bury my face in the crook of his neck. Trying not to inhale too deeply, albeit I still catch a whiff of cedar and bergamot. Oh god, I’m swooning. This was such a bad idea. The beat of my heart is so rapid, I’m afraid it’ll soon run away from me.
Beyond our embrace, the atmosphere is quiet, the woods don’t seem to be bustling with the life that usually scurries around. The sound of cicadas off in the distance and our soft breathing are all to be heard.
To my astonishment, I feel his hold on me tighten, his fingers (most likely) unconsciously tracing patterns on the bare skin of my arms. It feels like he’s mapping me out. That’s probably not it. Curse my lovesick brain. I sigh escapes my lips as we both further relax into the hug.
This feels… almost romantic. Definitely not what two sworn enemies are supposed to be doing on a cold december night like this. Snow starts falling from the sky above us. I feel its cold presence pressing light frozen kisses where my skin is exposed. I lift my head up to watch it fall, at the same time as he does. Both our heads, facing up. We stay like this for a little while, quietly admiring the blanket of white falling around us. It’s soothing, no matter how strange it is. I never thought I was ever going to do something quite as, dare I say, intimate with Baz. Basilton, that frustratingly fit bastard. Feeling bold, I let my head fall back, pressing a bit away from him, in order to look at his features. He does the same. My breath catches in my throat.
I want to kiss him.
My eyes fall to his lips. His lips where his tongue is currently running along. I-
“Simo-” he’s abruptly cut off by the sound of the mage’s voice, echoing from the speakers.
We quickly jump apart.
“The situation has been resolved, you may all head back to your rooms.”