Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Baz

Bunce was the reason for all of it really. None of this would have happened if she hadn't approached me in the break room that summer evening.

I was on my final fifteen during a nine-hour closing shift drinking the last of my mocha when Bunce sat down in front of me.

This wasn't entirely unusual. Bunce and I like to talk about books sometimes, but the look on her face was new. All intense determination like she was preparing to defend her college thesis or win the finals for her secondary school debate team.

Nonetheless, I was still happy to see her. I do enjoy our book conversations. She's as avid of a reader as I am and I'd run out of Instagram feed to scroll through.

Still, I had to play the part even if I do actually consider Bunce a friend. "What?" I had asked her, putting down my mocha.

"Are you guys still hiring in cafe?" Penny asked instead of answering.

"Yes," I said. "We are, why?"

"A friend of mine is looking for a job right now," Penny told me.

"Okay," I said. "If they want a job here, they can apply online."

"He has," Penny said. "I just know that you are usually the one doing the interviewing and I was hoping that I could put in a good word."

Penny was right even though I'm only the assistant manager. I'm usually the one interviewing. Ebb is normally too busy chasing down this week's delivery mix up and has a bleeding heart besides. We would never get competent help if she was the one in control of hiring.

I'd considered it. I am not usually one for nepotism even if I am blue blood, but Penny is a good sort. Intelligent and a hard worker, so I was confident that any friend of hers would be as well.

I was half right.

"What's his name?" I said.

Penny beamed at me. "Simon Snow."

I picked up my phone and typed out the name into my notes. "I'll look into it."

"Thanks, Baz," Penny said, still smiling.

"Whatever," I said. "Just because I'm agreeing to interview him doesn't mean that he'll get the job."

Penny was already getting up. "My half is up thanks again, Baz. I'll see you later." She waved to me cheerfully as she left the break room.

I sighed. Neither of us had known then what she'd put into motion.

I set up an interview with Simon Snow for that next week, but I had to call in with the flu on the day we scheduled, so I wasn't the one who ended up interviewing him. Ebb was.

Snow got the job.

Like I said before Ebb's a bleeding heart.

Simon

"Snow I am this close," Baz says as he tops off a white mocha frapp with whipped cream. In a perfect spiral of course. "To firing you."

I roll my eyes. This is a common threat of his. "You're not in charge of that."

Baz secures a lid on the frapp. Somehow managing not to spill it everywhere. The counter is just as clean as it was when he started even though we are in the middle of a rush on a Saturday. Baz never leaves any mess, and even Agatha makes a mess when making frappes. They're messy drinks.

"Not yet," Baz says, stepping around me to go place the finished drink on the end of the counter. "Venti white mocha frappuccino for Sharon," he calls.

Sharon appears at the end of the counter. "This has almond milk now right?" she asks.

Baz nods with an apologetic smile on his face. "Yes, it does. I'm so sorry about before."

"That's all right, dear," Sharon reassures. She's much nicer now. She chewed me right out before when I tried passing her the drink the first time. "As long as it has it now."

"It does," Baz says again still smiling that fake customer service smile. Baz never smiles honestly. So it is super unnerving when he tries.

Sharon is fooled by it though and walks away without any further issue. I suppose if there is one good aspect of Baz its that he is excellent at defusing customer situations. Whenever anyone gets angry with him, he just gets cooler and cooler until he is giving them a blank smile and a calm apology. Works like a charm every time. I'm not sure how he does it exactly, he hates people, but I guess he got the assistant manager position somehow.

"She didn't say almond milk," I tell Baz when she's out of earshot. Who asks for almond milk and whipped cream anyway? If you are lactose intolerant then whipped cream isn't going to help you either. I think she was just being difficult.

The smile drops, and Baz gives me a sneer. "I'm sure she did. Whenever someone speaks to you, it goes in one ear and out the other."

"Does not," I disagree.

Baz taps his forehead. "Well, it isn't like anything is blocking the way."

I glare at him, but he is already picking up the grande cup Agatha just put down. "Get back to work, Snow," he orders without looking at me. "We're not paying you to stare. Make sure to listen more closely this time, too, please. I don't want to keep remaking drinks for you."

I grumble to myself as I walk back up to the front of the counter. "What can I get started for you?" I ask the next customer in line.

I do listen closely as the man gives me the rundown of his latte order. I always listen closely. I swear that no matter how well I do my job Baz will find something to nitpick or complain about. Whenever Agatha or Niall screws up, he doesn't give them nearly as much heat as he gives me.

Baz never screws up. He's too perfect for that.

"Ugh, he is driving me crazy!" I tell Penny later when we're sitting on our couch watching telly. We usually carpool if we are both closing which we were tonight.

"Simon," Penny says.

"I mean it was about freaking almond milk!" I continue. "Sharon didn't say that she wanted almond milk Penny. She didn't."

"Simon," Penny says again.

"Every little mistake I make is under a microscope! Nothing I ever do is good enough! He always makes me feel so stupid!" I should probably stop yelling, but I'm on a roll now. Every little frustration is rapidly spilling out of me.

"Like I am terrible at my job and it is so beneath him to lend any sort of assistance. Did you know yesterday I asked him how many pumps a tall chai latte gets? Instead of answering me he told me I really ought to know that by now and then walked away. I do know it Penny I just wanted a refresher!"

Penny grabs me by my shoulders and turns me to face her. "Simon breathe," she orders, and I shut up.

I slowly take a breath.

"Better?" she asks after the red haze leaves my vision.

"Yeah," I say and sink back further into the couch. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Penny dismisses. "I know that today was stressful. It's always like this over the holidays."

"So many people," I say.

Penny hums in agreement.

"So it isn't going to get better?" I ask.

Penny shakes her head and gives me a cheerful sounding, "Nope!"

"Ugh," I groan again. "I guess that means that Baz will only get worse too."

"Probably," Penny says. "Don't let him get to you, Si. Baz is just like that. He'll warm up to you eventually."

"That's what you always say," I reply. "And how long have I been working with him now?"

"Six months," Penny offers after a moment's thought.

"Six months," I repeat. "And nothing's changed. He still treats me like I'm an idiot."

"Baz treats everyone like they're an idiot," Penny says.

"He doesn't treat you like one," I point out.

"I've been working with him for three years," Penny says. "Also I'm not an idiot."

"Are you saying that I'm one?"

Penny shrugs. "You do have your moments. Didn't you break some plates yesterday?"

"Who told you that?" I ask though I already know.

"Baz told me," Penny says. Called it. "Told me this afternoon while we were on our half."

"Well, yes," I say. "I did, but people break stuff all the time. Agatha broke a mug last week."

"Five plates though Si, really?"

My face is burning. "Whose side are you on?"

"I'm not on anyone's side," Penny sighs. "Honestly this whole feud thing is ridiculous. Baz isn't out to get you."

"Says you," I mutter. "You don't have to work with him." Penny doesn't work in cafe. She's on the book floor. Baristas and booksellers share a breakroom, but otherwise, don't interact much during shifts. The only other time I see Pen when we're both working is when she comes up and orders an iced Americano during one of her breaks.

"Look can we stop talking about Baz?" Penny asks. "We just started season three. This is one of the best seasons."

"You said that about the last two," I say, but good naturally turn my attention back to Merlin. We got Netflix last month finally, and we've been steadily working our way through our queue. Merlin is one of Penny's favorite shows, and she hasn't had the chance to rewatch since it went off the air. She rediscovered it on Netflix and has since been trying to convert me.

I'll admit that I'm enjoying it. I've always liked magic stories.

"It's because they were," Penny says and tosses a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

I reach into the bowl for some too and try to take my mind off Baz.

It doesn't really work. Baz is always on my mind.

Chapter Text

Simon

The hot grande cup goes flying out of Baz's hand. It lands on the floor with a dull thud — everyone present freezes.

Niall's eyes are wide, and Agatha looks like she might faint.

Baz, for his part, just looks confused. Nonetheless, he reaches down, picks up the cup, and throws it away. Then he gets a new one, more gently this time, and returns to taking the customer's order.

Slowly Niall and Agatha go back to what they were doing too. Agatha is steaming 2%, and Niall is mixing a refresher.

I'm still frozen.

Baz never drops things.

"Ah, ha!" I finally say once my mind catches up.

Baz turns around to face me, one eyebrow already at half mast. He sets the cup down in front of the syrups and pushes it towards Agatha. "What?"

I point at the trash can where the fallen cup has been laid to rest. "This proves it," I say.

"Proves what Snow?" Baz asks.

"That we have a ghost," I say. "Obviously."

Baz blinks at me. "What the hell are you on about?"

"We," I say and make a gesture to encompass Agatha, Niall, and me. "Think we have a ghost."

Baz glances over at Niall, disappointed. "Don't tell me you believe this rubbish too?"

Niall shrugs and caps the refresher shaking it around a little to blend it some more. "I didn't until a second ago."

"Hear me out," I say.

"Why?" Baz says.

"We have a ghost," I continue my explanation, ignoring him and his negativity, "because everyone has been dropping cups today."

Baz somehow manages to look even more disbelieving. He looks like he is trying to figure out what is wrong with me. "You think we have a ghost because I dropped a cup?"

"Yes." I snap my fingers at him in agreement. "You never drop cups. You never drop anything!"

"I don't see what this has to do with a ghost," Baz says.

"An anti cup ghost," I say. "It keeps knocking cups out of our hands."

Baz still looks unconvinced.

I keep trying. "We've been dropping cups all day today. Just look at the trash, and you'll see how many."

"It is probably just because whoever stocks cups last shoved them in too hard," Baz explains calmly. "It messed with the mechanism."

"Screw off with your logic," I say. "Logic has no place here."

"Clearly," Baz says. Niall turns a laugh into a cough.

"I have more evidence," I say.

Baz rolls his eyes. "Can't wait to hear it."

"This morning while Agatha was out sampling," I start. "I was standing by the register."

"Not doing your job probably," Baz interrupts. I ignore him.

"While I was standing there I saw something in my peripheral," I say.

Baz snorts. "Wow, that's a big word, Simon. I didn't know you had it in you."

"I saw something in my peripheral," I repeat without acknowledging him. He only calls me Simon when he is being really condensing. It isn't worth getting pissed about.

"Pray tell what was it?" Baz asks dryly.

"A piece of parchment paper," I say.

"Truly terrifying," Baz deadpans.

If we weren't at work, I'd flip him off. We are at work though so I resist. He's such a sarcastic prat it drives me mental.

"The parchment paper was floating towards me," I say pushing my temper down. "All by itself."

"Snow it was probably just the oven fan." Baz waves a hand dismissively. "Honestly all that you're doing is proving how much of an idiot you are, which you don't need to do by the way. We all already know. The secret's out."

I huff and turn to Agatha. "Do you think there is a ghost Ags?"

Agatha looks thoughtful. "I mean we have been dropping a lot of cups."

"Well," Baz says. "If I were a ghost I'd certainly wouldn't spend my afterlife knocking cups out of people's hands. I'd spend my time terrorizing my enemies."

"Maybe they really didn't like Starbucks when they were alive," I suggest. "Maybe Starbucks was their enemy."

"We're not Starbucks though," Baz argues. "We're Barnes and Noble cafe."

I shrug. "Close enough."

"This is how people get confused, Snow," Baz says. "It's bad enough when they think they can use their Starbucks rewards here."

"I think it is done on purpose," I muse. "We are purposely confusing people to think that we are Starbucks only to have them find out once they've already ordered that we aren't. By that point, they're already committed, yeah? And most don't back out."

"Well aren't we full of conspiracy theories today," Baz comments then turns on his heel. "I'm going to sort through the supply order. Try not to get killed by any ghosts while I'm gone."

"Like you'd be sad if I did," I mutter.

"Fair point," Baz says. "If you die by a ghost Snow then I promise I'll believe you." With that, he disappears into the back.

A few hours pass before Baz joins us again. He pushes open the doors separating the back from the front and goes to refill his water cup. There is a dark cloud hanging around him.

"Didn't go well?" Niall asks. The only person currently working brave enough to ask.

"No," Baz answers, and he is as near as he gets to fuming. "It did not. Not only did they not deliver the replacement mango dragon fruit base they also didn't give us the holiday syrup we need to make the new latte, and we are supposed to start selling it tomorrow." Baz takes a breath. "And," he continues. "They refuse to exchange the marshmallow syrup for what we actually need. Honestly, how'd they even manage to get a hold of some? We haven't sold the s' mores frappuccinos in months!"

Niall walks over and gently pats Baz on the shoulder. Niall truly knows no fear. "I'm sorry mate," he says.

Baz sighs. "I've dealt with it the best that I can," he says. "I'll update Ebb when she gets here maybe she'll have better luck with the marshmallow syrup."

"We could always," I start but Baz holds up a hand to cut me off. "I don't want to hear whatever idiotic suggestion you were about to voice," he says.

"I'm going to do some dishes," Niall says in a poor disguise to leave the impending argument. Agatha looks like she wants to go with him.

"I was only going to say," I continue.

"Nope," Baz says. "Just stop."

I cross my arms. "It isn't idiotic."

Baz raises an eyebrow. "So you weren't about to suggest that we recreate the s' mores frappuccino, but instead of blending it we make it into a hot drink?"

I pout. "No," I say even though he's right. I was about to suggest it. How the hell did he guess?

"Oh please," Baz says. "You're not that clever Snow. I can read you like a book. One of the lame YA ones too. With the vampires and eighth-grade reading level."

"Didn't know you were a Twilight fan Baz," one of the regulars asks. He's leaning against the counter, smiling.

"I'm not," Baz says. "My little sister was, though. She's thankfully grown out of it now." He picks up a grande cold cup. "The usual Elliot?"

"Yes please thanks," Elliot says. Elliot is one of my favorite regulars. He works at the H&M in the mall and stops to buy a drink whenever he's working. Elliot's always smiling, and he's constantly taking the piss out of Baz. It's beautiful to watch since Baz can't really fight back.

Baz has already marked the cup. Sometimes it seems like he knows Elliot's schedule better than the man himself does. He passes it to Agatha.

Agatha picks up the cup. "Iced Americano with two extra shots?" she clarifies needlessly.

Elliot nods. "That'll be great thank you, Agatha."

Agatha smiles. "You're welcome, Elliot."

"All right, Simon?" Elliot asks when he catches sight of me.

I nod. "Yeah," I say. "You?"

"Fine," he says, pulling out his wallet and returning his attention to Baz. "Need my phone number?" he asks him.

Baz shakes his head. "You insult me." He types in the number quickly to bring up Elliot's membership.

"I was wrong to doubt you," Elliot agrees good naturally. He's smiling at Baz and Baz is smiling back. I was weirded out by it all at first (Baz doesn't smile at anyone), but I've mostly gotten used to it now. Elliot inserts his debit card. "So I was going to ask you something Baz," he continues after the machine beeps at him to remove his card.

Baz raises an eyebrow. "Ask away."

"Do you have any days off in the near future?" Elliot asks. Something in his tone is making me frown. I can't quite put my finger on why though.

Baz smirks. "I might," he says. "Who wants to know?"

"Well, I'm having a few friends over for the match on Friday night. Are you interested?" he asks.

Baz hums in consideration. "I'll have to double check my schedule," he says at last. "Can I give you an answer tomorrow?"

"Tell you what," Elliot says. "How about you just text me when you know? Since you already have my number memorized."

Baz's face is amused. I've never seen him this amused before. Or well I've never seen him this amused when it isn't at my expense. The edge of cruelty is missing from his expression. "So I do," he agrees. "I'll be in touch."

Elliot is basically beaming now. "Great," he says and accepts the finished drink from Agatha. "Looking forward to it." He waves at Niall when he comes out of the back and Niall returns it. "I'll be seeing you then."

When Elliot's walked away, Agatha immediately turns on Baz. "Are you finally saying yes?" she asks him.

Baz studies his fingernails in a disinterested manner. "Maybe," he hedges.

Agatha slaps the side of his shoulder in excitement. "Baz!" she says. "Are you serious?"

"Wait did he say yes this time?" Niall asks, joining the conversation.

"Yes, to what?" I ask, confused.

"To a date!" Agatha exclaims.

"Keep your voice down Wellbelove," Baz rebukes, but he's smiling.

What the hell is happening?

"What do you mean a date?" I ask. I'm so out of the loop.

Niall turns to look at me. "You serious Simon?" he asks. After he deduces from my expression that I am, he explains, "Elliot has been trying to get Baz to go on a date with him for about a year now."

"Seven months," Baz corrects.

"A year," Niall argues. "Just because you were too dense to realize that he was flirting with you for the first few months doesn't mean that it didn't happen."

"Elliot's been flirting with Baz?" I feel like I'm missing something.

"Yes," Agatha says. She waves at the register. "They were literally just flirting in front of you, Simon. How could you not tell?"

"I thought Elliot was just taking the piss," I defend.

"What you think flirting is Snow?" Baz asks expressionless.

I don't know why I start blushing. "I dunno just not that," I say.

"Anyway," I continue. "Why would I think they were flirting? Baz isn't even gay."

Now they are all looking at me like I am an idiot. It is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

I don't think I've ever blushed this much in my life.

"I don't even know where to start with this," Baz says.

"Baz is gay Simon," Agatha says at the same time.

"He isn't even trying to hide it," Niall mutters.

"What do you mean?" I ask Niall.

Baz rolls his eyes then points at his hat. To his rainbow pin specifically. Dress code allows for hat pins. Agatha has a couple of floral ones and a pink taco, Niall has some anime ones, and I have a couple too. Mostly meme related. My favorite is my blue Keep Calm Carry On one. Even Ebb has a few tiny goat pins which she's named. Baz only has his rainbow pin. "What do you think this for then Snow?" he asks me.

"Um," I say. "To show support?"

"To show support," Baz repeats slowly.

"Yeah," I say, dumbly.

"How the hell you've survived this long Snow," Baz says. "I'll never know. You take obliviousness to whole new levels."

"Yeah," I say again. Since there really is no arguing my way out of this one.

"You're such an idiot," Baz says.

I don't dispute him. I'm too busy rethinking every Elliot and Baz interaction I've witnessed. Then I'm rethinking everything I ever thought I knew about Baz. Between his hair, and his pin, and his well... everything. Hindsight is 20/20.

Yeah, Baz's right I'm an idiot.

Chapter Text

Baz

I'm on my half when Snow sits down in front of me. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you here early?" I ask him. "You don't work until four."

He shrugs. Half of Snow's answers are shrugs. "Yeah Pen had an early shift today, and we're closing, so I came with her."

I suppose that isn't out of the ordinary. Since they are roommates they frequently leave together, however. "Why are you talking to me?" I ask then take a sip of my pumpkin mocha. I know that the pumpkin syrup was canceled months ago, but I take advantage of my position to keep us well stocked. Ebb looks the other way.

Snow throws his bag onto the table, and I wrinkle my nose. It's a gross thing with patches, water damage, and what I'd wager are multiple red bull stains. I lean away from it, and he rolls his eyes at me. Then he unzips the bag and pulls out a book.

I blink at him slowly and lower my mocha. "Is that a book?"

"Yeah," Snow says as if this is a normal thing. In the six months that I've known Snow I have never seen him open a book, it is this and a dozen other reasons (like his distaste for coffee) that make me wonder why he wanted this job. I suppose Penny might be the answer either that or he was desperate.

I study the backpack again.

I decide he was desperate.

"Why do you have a book, Snow?" I ask. "I've never seen you read before. Didn't even think that you could."

Snow huffs. "I can read," he protests.

"Hmm, can you," I say. "You're uncompleted weekly task sheets say otherwise."

Snow debates for a moment. Well longer than a moment. Another thing I wonder about Snow is what exactly his internal monologue consists of since he always takes a million years to respond to me. Finally, he says, "Whatever Baz."

I smirk. I can't help it. I like winning.

"Anyway," Snow says as he pushes the book towards me. "Here."

I pick it up reluctantly and read the title. Ghosts Among Us: A Study of the Supernatural in bright red text. The font is comic sans, lovely. "Oh, Snow, you shouldn't have," I drawl. "Why are you giving me this?"

Snow shrugs again. If I had the time or the inclination, I'd keep a mental checklist of every one of Snow's shrugs, but I don't have that kind of patience or enough free space in my head. The part of my brain dedicated to Snow is too busy finding and keeping track of Snow's moles, which requires my utmost attention.

"Because," Snow says. "I want to continue our debate last week."

"What debate?" I ask.

"The ghost debate," Snow clarifies.

I raise my eyebrow imperiously. "That wasn't a debate Snow. That was public humiliation."

"The ghost debate," Snow continues to insist and scrunches his nose at me. It's adorable.

I try not to let it show that I think so, thankfully I am a great actor and Snow, as evidence suggests, is a complete oblivious moron. Seriously the man didn't even know I was gay, how the hell did he miss that? It's not like I am trying to hide it (those days are far behind me). I might not be the most flamboyant of people, but there are dozens of examples in the six months we've worked together that should have painted a picture for him.

In June I mentioned going to Pride. I've had on more than one occasion debated with Agatha about which Marvel Chris was the most handsome (personally I think it's Pine even if he isn't Marvel. His performance as Steve Trevor convinced me, though I did like him in Star Trek). Just last week I was reading the The Song of Achilles in the breakroom, and he must have known what the book was about since I know Penny has read it (it was one of our most heated book discussions). Hell, Snow was even present for that discussion.

I wear a bloody rainbow pin.

I stare at Snow as if the answer to his idiocy resides in the unremarkable blue of his eyes or the mole to the right of his cupid's bow. It doesn't, but I want to keep looking at them anyway.

Currently, I'm trying not to acknowledge that I may have an issue concerning Snow outside of his work ethic.

I may have a slight crush on him.

I don't even know how it happened. Sure I've always thought he was fit since the moment I met him, but I've never had a crush on anyone like him before. Most of my adolescent crushes were smart enough to keep up with me and had hobbies that included chess, playing the piano, and not being an idiot.

I run circles around Snow intelligently, and his hobbies seem to include picking fights with me, watching Youtube videos on his phone, and being a mouth breather.

I never thought I'd be, as the internet puts it, a moronsexual as well as a homosexual, but here we are. I, of course, haven't told anyone. It's embarrassing to like someone so idiotic.

So instead I nitpick at Snow until he explodes and hide my feelings underneath sneers while Niall gives me knowing looks (I've known Niall forever, and it is really annoying how often he sees through me).

Instead, I try to focus on the man I am actually dating. Elliot and I aren't anything official (I don't think I am ready for that yet), but we've gone on a few dates and kissed a handful of times, which was nice. He's... nice.

Instead, I try to dwell on anything that isn't Simon bloody Snow.

It isn't like I have a chance with him. I am 99% sure he is straight, and I am always right (even if I do leave that one percent off because I am a weak love-struck masochist).

Snow clears his throat which drags me back from zoning out, staring at him again. "Aren't you going to read it?" he asks me.

"What's the point?" I ask. "Ghosts aren't real."

"You don't know that," Snow says. "There's lots of evidence to support it." He taps the book. "It's all in here. I know you like evidence."

I do like evidence, but I highly doubt that there is enough in this book to convince me. Still, I humor him and flip it open.

"Are we Buzzfeed Unsolved now?" I ask him dryly while I study the pages. Snow has written notes in the margins of the book in his terrible penmanship. It looks like a fifth grader wrote them, and I wish I didn't find it as endearing as I do.

"You watch Buzzfeed Unsolved!" he says excitedly, and I look up to meet one of Snow's bright smiles. For a second, my heart skips a beat. I've witnessed Snow's smiles a couple of times, but they have never been directed at me before.

Bloody hell how does Bunce handle this? I feel like my eyes are burning from the sun.

"No," I say, and his face falls slightly.

Then he flashes me another smile. "Then how do you know it?" he asks. "I know how much you lie Baz. You watch it, don't you?"

"I don't," I say. "Buzzfeed is a dull American waste of time. It's all clickbait and trends that will be dead in a week. It's the worst thing about America."

Snow looks dubious. "Worst than their healthcare, immigration policies, treatment of minorities, and their education system?"

I raise both my eyebrows. Did Snow just say something in the ballpark of intelligent? "Yes," I deadpan.

"You don't believe that," Snow says. "And you watch Buzzfeed Unsolved. I'm on to you Baz."

"I've seen one episode when Niall was over and wanted to watch it, and I made fun of it the entire time. I'd hardly call that watching," I argue.

Snow grins at me like he's won something then pauses and gives me an odd look. "Niall comes over to your house?" he asks.

"Yes," I say.

"Why?" Snow asks.

"Because he's my friend," I inform him. "Obviously."

"You have friends?" Snow sounds honestly baffled. I don't understand him.

"That's surprising to you?"

Snow rubs the back of his neck. "Well yeah, you're so prickly."

I frown. "I am not."

"You are," Snow says then waves a hand and reaches into the backpack once again to pull out a beat up polaroid camera.

"What is that for?" I ask.

"To capture an orb," Snow says, like an idiot. "They are semi-transparent white balls that are indications of a ghost." He sounds like he is reciting from a textbook.

This conversation is exhausting. "I know what orbs are Snow," I say, and he looks surprised.

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts," Snow says.

"I don't," I say.

"Then how do you know what orbs are?" Snow asks.

"I was a morbid kid," I say. "Living in a dark Victorian mansion will do that to you."

Snow's eyes widen. "You lived in a mansion?"

I wave a dismissive hand. "Anyway, you can't capture an orb Snow. The theory has been debunked in multiple supernatural circles."

Snow raises his eyebrows (both of them he can't just raise one like me). "How do you know that?"

"This book was written in 2003," I say. "You're information is outdated most of the community is in agreement now."

"How do you know that?" he asks.

"Don't you know, Snow," I say. "I know everything." Then I get up. My half's over now, and I need to get back to work.

"See you in an hour," I say. "Don't be late clocking in again."

I hear the growl of annoyance behind me, but leave before he can get a word in.

I like having the last word.

Simon

I had just finished putting a load of dishes into the dishwasher when I felt it — a wave of cold.

It is enough to make me shiver.

Then the freezer door opens, and Baz steps out. When he sees me just standing there, he gives me a bored once over. "What are you doing, Snow?"

I gesture at the sink. "Dishes."

Baz just stares me before pointedly looking behind me. "When we have a line?"

I didn't know we had a line. "Um," I say. "Yes?"

Baz has the wondering what is wrong with me look again. "One of these days, we need to have a conversation about the concept of priorities. I'm pretty sure we went over this in training."

We did. "I didn't know we have a line," I say.

"You shouldn't even be back here," Baz says and crosses his arms. "When I am back here. We are the only two people working right now. Agatha is on her half. You're supposed to be watching the register."

"I thought you were out there," I say. Lame so lame.

Baz is starting to look really annoyed now. "Didn't you hear me? I'm working on bake case right now. I told you this."

I didn't hear that. I must have been busy with a customer. "I must have been busy with a customer," I tell him. "I didn't hear you. I didn't know you were back here."

Baz rolls his eyes. "Is that all you can say, Snow? I didn't know?"

Now I'm starting to get annoyed. "Well, I didn't."

"I don't have time for this," Baz says and starts towards the doors separating the back from the front. "We have a line."

I had hoped that he had dropped it, but of course, I wasn't that lucky. Once the last customer walked away with their drink, Baz turns to face me.

"I'm getting tired of having to explain this to you all the time," Baz says. "When someone is working in the back or taking their break, you need to be out here."

"I know," I mutter.

Baz raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you do? I have yet to see that in practice."

"You said that we are running behind on dishes," I remind him. "If we want to close on time, we need to get those clean."

"Yes," Baz says. "We are, and we do; however, customers are always our priority. I don't care what you are in the middle of, if you see a customer you stop what you're doing and go take care of them."

I know I am scowling at him now, but I can't help it. I know that he is right, but he is the one who is always getting on my case for dirty dishes and late closing times.

I swear nothing I ever do is good enough for him. I master one thing, and he finds another reason to chew me out. It drives me insane.

Before I can truly lose it though Agatha comes back and her presence is enough for me to keep my cool, I don't like being a brute when Agatha is around. She's so pretty and soft. I don't want to upset her.

I mean I don't like acting like a brute full stop, but Baz always brings out the worst in me.

The next two hours pass at a snail's pace except for a few rushes which we always seem to get right when I am in the middle of something. Baz is right we are behind. At this rate, we won't get out until well after 11:30.

Baz is extra snappy tonight. Hovering over my shoulder and directing me when I know he has other things he needs to be doing. Just because I didn't close the espresso machine down correctly and he had to come over and turn it off doesn't mean he has to keep watching me to make sure I don't screw up.

I end up in the back again doing dishes. I'm lifting the muffin tin in preparation to wash it when Baz stops on his way to freezer and says, "Don't forget that those can't go in the dishwasher Snow."

"I know," I say, annoyed. "You don't need to keep reminding me."

"I wish I didn't," Baz says. "But I've seen you put it in the dishwasher multiple times."

"I haven't done it in months," I defend myself.

"Probably because I've been reminding you every time," Baz counters then disappears into the freezer.

I feel another wave of cold wash over me, and when Baz emerges again, the space around me gets cold again.

Baz, arms full of cheesecake boxes, pauses to look at what I'm doing. "Use more soap," he says and then leaves me again.

I glare at the door and rub my goosebumps. It's way too cold in here. It's giving me an idea.

I drop the muffin tin in the distilling fluid and head back out front. I see Agatha wiping down the area by the blenders, and I walk over to her and stand next to her until she notices me.

Once she does, I say, "We have a cold spot."

"A cold spot?" Agatha repeats. "What's that, Simon?"

"A cold spot is an area of localized coldness or a sudden decrease in ambient temperature that indicates the presence of a ghost," I explain.

Baz overhears of course. Just like I intended. "Do you even understand any of the words you are saying?"

I ignore him and focus on Agatha.

Agatha looks confused. "You are still on about this ghost thing?" she asks.

I nod smirking a little. "Of course. We have a ghost." I look pointedly over at Baz.

Agatha seems to get it then. "Well we'll just have to add that to the evidence then."

This is the reason I like Agatha. She catches on quickly.

Baz snorts. "What evidence?"

"The cups," I say. "The parament paper, and the cold spot by the sink."

"That isn't evidence," Baz says. "Your so-called cold spot is just the air that gets let out whenever someone opens the freezer door."

He's right of course, but I can't let him know that. "It's much colder this time," I argue.

"If you haven't noticed," Baz says. "The heater has been acting up lately. Miranda is sending for a repairman, but it is going to be colder back here for a while until then."

I know this, as well. Baz has been complaining about the cold more than he used to he's also wearing more layers. On top of his usual black long sleeve shirt, he is wearing a black jumper. Baz is always cold though even back in July he would wear long sleeves and dress pants. I, on the other hand, was always overheating in my t-shirt and shorts.

I shrug. "Maybe the ghost messed with the heater too," I suggest.

"The ghost didn't mess with the heater," Baz says, and he has the wrinkle between his eyebrows that means he is pissed. I like seeing it. There is nothing more satisfying to me than seeing Baz lose his cool. "There is no ghost."

"There is," I say. "I've done my research."

"You haven't researched shit Snow," Baz says. "Reading one book written sixteen years ago does not count as research."

"I read more than one book," I say. "I just showed you the one with the most compelling evidence. You should borrow it."

"I am not borrowing it," Baz says. "I am not entertaining this any further."

"Why?" I taunt. "Are you afraid that you'll change your mind?"

Baz's grey eyes narrow. They almost seem to flash in the light. They momentarily strike me before I refocus.

"I won't change my mind," Baz is saying.

"There's only one way to prove it," I tell him. "Read the book. It won't take you long, a day at most." Baz is a fast reader. Penny complains about it all the time. He has a habit of bringing up a completely different book before Penny's finished the book they had been discussing the day before. Or worse he'll give the ending away or tell her some other significant spoiler. Drives Pen right mad it does.

"Fine," Baz says, and I feel the rush of victory. "I'll read your silly little book if only to prove to you how idiotic you're being."

Still high on my victory, the rest of the shift passes by quickly. We end up finishing closing a few minutes earlier in part because Agatha did a lot before she left at 6:30. Also, because as much as I hate to admit it, Baz is an excellent person to close with, if you disregard the constant nitpicking, he always completes his tasks quickly. Bake case is usually done by eight, and then he'll move onto dishes. Honestly, I don't have to do much at all, which would make me feel bad if I didn't know that it was how Baz prefers it. Still, when we aren't bickering, we make a good team.

After we finish mopping we head up to the break room to gather our things and put our aprons and hats in our lockers.

It doesn't take me long, and I wait and watch with my hands in my parka pockets as Baz takes off his work shoes and puts them in his locker. Without sitting down, he puts both his feet into his heavy black boots. He pauses for a second to type something into his phone. Then he walks over to the coat rack and puts on his long dark red coat, grey scarf, and beanie. Before he puts his leather gloves on though he sticks the ghost book underneath his arm.

I smile at him, and for a second I think I see amusement in his grey eyes (I notice that his scarf is the same color), but it is gone too quickly to tell for sure. Still, I find myself smiling wider.

Baz tilts his head at me as he opens the door. "What are you smirking about?"

I shrug because I honestly don't know. "Nothing."

Baz doesn't answer and keeps quiet all the way to the front doors where the booksellers are waiting for us. We all leave together so that whichever manager is on duty can lock up behind us. Penny notices the book tucked under Baz's arm (she helped me pick it out) and winks at me.

I smile back at her still riding my victory high.

As we are walking to our cars, I see a familiar figure approaching us. I recognize the dark skin and natural undercut. It's Elliot. He's wearing a deep green coat just as posh looking as Baz's, and much less practical boots. They don't seem very warm even if they are admittedly cool looking.

He smiles at Baz as he approaches him. Baz returns it.

My high fades a little. I'm not sure why Elliot's presence is bothering me lately, but whenever he stops by the cafe, I feel a pit in my stomach that doesn't go away until he leaves. Elliot's interactions haven't changed; he is still as nice to me as ever still leaves a tip, but something about him is making me uncomfortable. Maybe it has something to do with how Baz always lights up a bit whenever he sees him. It's a strange expression on Baz's face almost unsettling. Maybe that's why it is bothering me.

The pit in my stomach is returning with each step Elliot takes towards Baz. Once he reaches him, he presses a light kiss to Baz's lips before pulling back. "Are you ready to go babe?"

The knot in my gut turns tighter.

"I'm ready," Baz says as he leans into Elliot a little.

Elliot laughs and puts an arm around him. "Are you cold already?"

"Maybe," Baz mumbles, but I am standing close enough to him to hear it.

"Sometimes love I think you only date me for my body heat," Elliot says.

The pet names are a new development. I'd never in a million years thought anyone would call Baz babe or love without getting their throat ripped out.

"That's because you're smart," Baz says, pulling back and taking Elliot's hand.

That's another new thing. I'd never imagined Baz being the sort for PDA.

I'm still thinking about it on the ride home. Penny is driving, and I'm sitting in the passenger's side with my arms crossed.

"I just don't understand it Pen," I tell her.

"What's there to understand Simon?" Penny asks. "They're dating it makes sense that they would want to show some form of physical affection."

"I just didn't see Baz as the type," I say.

"No offense Si, but up until a few weeks ago you didn't know Baz was gay either," Penny reminds me.

"Yeah," I say. "But what's with the pet names?"

"Again they're dating," Penny explains. "This is what people who are dating do."

"Yeah," I agree. Penny and Shepard certainly do. "But why was he picking Baz up? Why would they be hanging out so late? It's like 11:00."

That is another thing that is bugging me. Why on earth would Baz be meeting up with Elliot so late? What are they doing? Where are they going? Maybe back to Baz's? Or perhaps even Elliot's? Are things really that serious already?

"Baz's car is in the shop right now," Penny informs me. "So Elliot has been giving him rides to work."

Oh. I feel a bit of relief at that. That's a reasonable explanation. He's probably just dropping off Baz at home.

Still, I'm frowning. "I don't know why Elliot would go out of his way like that, though. H&M closes at nine like the rest of the mall. Plus I don't even think he worked today." I turn my frown on Penny. "Didn't you say that Baz lives close to us? Why didn't you offer for him to carpool with us?"

Penny gives me an incredulous look. "Why would I do that? Simon, you hate Baz. I'd never force his company on you."

I shrug. "I don't hate him exactly."

"You don't like him," Penny says. "And I doubt riding to work with him will change that."

"Probably not," I agree. I'm not even sure why I'm considering it, but the more I think about it, the more it feels right. "But I like Elliot. He's a good bloke he shouldn't have to go out of his way just because Baz's car is in the shop. Plus carpooling is better for the environment. Global warming Penny."

Penny is giving me a funny look now but finally shrugs. "Fine, Simon. I'll text Baz about it tomorrow."

Right obviously she couldn't ask him tonight. It's late.

Still I'm feeling a bit better now. The pit in my stomach is loosening.

I'm not sure why the thought of Baz carpooling with Pen and I instead of Elliot is making me feel better, but I decide not to dwell on it.

It probably isn't important.

Chapter Text

Baz

"Baz honestly, the song isn't that bad," Snow says.

It is times like this that make me question my decision to accept Penny's offer to carpool.

Snow and I are in the backseat (Penny said if we're going to fight like children, then we'll sit in the backseat like children). "Front seat is for adults," were her exact words. I'm a bit insulted by that, but I admit I'd rather be in the backseat than be dead because Penny was too distracted by our bickering that she drove the car straight into a ditch.

Which wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility considering Snow and I spend the entire half-hour drive to work sniping back and forth. Snow always starts it, but I'll admit that I usually provoke him. I enjoy arguing with him.

It's a way to keep his attention (I'm so pathetic).

"Snow, that song is terrible," I disagree. "If you had any music taste at all, you'd agree with me."

"It really isn't that bad," Snow continues to insist.

I frown at him. "You can't understand the words she is singing. She doesn't enunciate."

"That doesn't matter," Snow argues. "I like her voice."

"Why?" I ask, dubiously. "She sounds like she's dying."

Snow actually looks offended. "She does not."

"She does," I say. "Just because you can hit a high note doesn't mean that you should. The only thing worse than that song is the bloody Greatest Showman soundtrack we continue to play even though the movie came out two years ago. We don't even play the actual soundtrack. We play covers of the songs."

"It isn't that bad," Snow says, but I can tell he's just saying that because he feels a deep compulsion to disagree with me about everything. His real feelings about the Greatest Showman are apparent in the furrow of his thick eyebrows.

I raise one of mine at him. He huffs. "Whatever, Baz."

That is the usual sign of an ending argument, and I can see the relief in Penny's eye through the rearview mirror, but there is still another ten minutes left of our drive, and Snow is looking at his phone now.

I can't resist.

"You probably just haven't heard the song enough to be sick of it," I say.

Snow looks over at me. He's already suspicious. "What do you mean?"

Penny sighs.

"You haven't worked there as long as me," I say.

Snow puts his phone down. Success. "I've worked there for six months."

"Oh, have you?" I ask. "Then why do you act like it's your first week half the time?"

I can see the tips of Snow's ears turning red. "I don't!"

"Yesterday, you asked me how many shots go in a doppio espresso," I remind him.

"So?"

"Snow doppio literally translates to double."

"So?"

"Meaning it would get two shots of espresso," I explain, slowly.

"I don't speak French."

"It's Italian." He makes it too easy.

Snow's fuming now. "Why do you have to be such a prat?" He demands. "So what if I don't know what doppmo means that doesn't make me a moron!"

"It's pronounced doppio," I say.

"Ugh!" Snow groans. "Penny," he appeals.

"Baz, stop antagonizing Simon." Penny drones and turns left.

"I'm not antagonizing him." I am. "I'm correcting him."

Penny sighs again. "When is your car going to be repaired?"

"Shop told me next week," I say. It's been two.

"Lovely," Penny drawls.

I can tell she's reaching her breaking point, so I pull out the book I'm currently reading One Day by Gene Weingarten. NPR put out their book list recently and it sounded interesting. So far I'm enjoying it (I'll have to recommend it to Penny).

"What book is that?" Snow asks me after a whole three minutes of silence.

I wordless hold it up higher so he can read the title.

Snow huffs. "I meant, what is it about?"

"It's a series of compiled headlines from December 28, 1986, in America," I explain without looking up.

"Non-fiction?" He asks.

"Obviously."

"I'm just trying to make conversation," he mumbles. "You don't need to be an ass about it."

He's right, and if I had any sense at all, I wouldn't keep poking at him. Maybe we could even be friends, Snow and me.

Still, I think I'd rather die.

"I don't," I agree and turn the page.

We don't speak for the rest of the car ride. We're early enough today to get a drink before our shift starts. I approach the counter with Penny and Snow on my heels.

Ebb's tired smile greets me. I know that smile. Slowly I turn from her to the back counter where I can see bins of pre-bagged biscuits.

I sigh. "Cookie sale today?"

Ebb nods. "I'm surprised you forgot."

"Me too," Snow chimes in from behind me.

"A deliberate error," I say. "Given how the last one panned out." I turn and give Snow my best eyebrow raise. "Remember that?"

Snow turns red.

"Boys," Ebb says and shakes her head at me. "Come on, settle down." She already has my drink prepared, bless her, so I do as she says.

I take a sip while she rings me up and types in my numbers. "Busy today?" I ask as I insert my debit card.

"As busy as we usually are," Ebb says. "Though I imagine things will pick up a little in the afternoon."

"Probably," I agree. It's a Tuesday so normally we wouldn't be too busy in the afternoon but with the buy one get one cookie sale we tend to get more traffic. "At least it isn't buy one get one frapps," I offer.

Ebb laughs. "At least it isn't that."

I check my watch. It looks like I still have fifteen minutes until my shift starts—enough time to finish a chapter. I head up to the break room. I've just settled into reading when both Penny and Snow walk in with their drinks in their hands.

"Is that book good, Baz?" Penny asks, sitting across from me and talking a thoughtful sip of her iced americano (extra shot, two pumps of hazelnut with a splash of almond milk).

"I'm enjoying it so far," I answer. "You can borrow it once I'm done if you like."

"I'll soon be looking for something to read," she says. "I'm just about done with Gideon the Ninth. I still think you should give it a read, Baz. You'd like it."

"Maybe I will," I say. If I recall correctly Gideon the Ninth is also on NPR's book list. "We can trade."

Penny gives me a smile and nods then checks her watch. "Well, my shift starts in two minutes. I'll see you both later."

She leaves her drink on the table then exits the breakroom to go clock in on the staff computer by the cookbooks.

Snow sighs heavily and starts tapping his fingers against his tea (english breakfast, one pump classic syrup, heavy on the whole milk). He keeps this up long enough for me to finish two pages before finally he says, "Surely the cookie sale won't be as bad as last time."

I briefly glance at my own watch. I've got three minutes until my shift starts. I set my book aside. "If you can remember how to input the coupon, maybe."

Snow frowns. "I will. That only happened one time."

"Two times," I correct, standing up. "Don't make it three."

Simon

The coupon won't scan. I've scanned it twice, even checked the second time to make sure it was actually the buy one get one cookie coupon, and it was, but it still isn't scanning.

The older man in front of me is starting to look irritated, and I feel a bead of sweat slip down the back of my neck.

"Can't you just give me the extra biscuit?" he asks me. "You can see that I have the coupon and that it hasn't expired."

"It's an inventory thing," I explain (that's what Baz always says).

The man doesn't look very impressed. "An inventory thing," he repeats doubtfully.

"Yes," I say, feeling stupid.

He glances down at my nametag then back up at my face. "Is there anyone I can talk to, do you have a manager?"

I give him a blank smile while internally screaming. "Yes, I do, I'll just go get him."

Baz is in the back working on the milk order, and when I step inside, he turns to give me an exasperated look. "What is it now?" he asks.

"How'd you know there is a problem?" I ask (there is one, but that doesn't mean he always needs to expect it).

"Because that's your problem expression," Baz explains, already setting his clipboard down and pushing past me.

"The coupon won't scan," I explain once he reaches the register.

"Really," Baz says in his customer service voice. God, I hate that voice. It's so smooth and posh and completely fake. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"He said that he couldn't just give me the biscuit," the old man tells Baz. "Even though I have the coupon."

"Right," Baz says, typing his numbers into the register. I lean in close to look over his shoulder. "Sorry about that. I comped the second biscuit, so you should be all set."

"Thank you," the old man says.

Baz seems like he has this in hand, so I go and grab the man's biscuits and his tall coffee.

I return with both, and the man doesn't even look at me. He just takes his order and leaves.

I turn to face Baz and see him frowning at the register. "You said the coupon wouldn't scan?" he asks me.

"Yeah," I say. "I tried scanning it twice. I even typed in the numbers like you showed me, and it didn't work either."

"That shouldn't be happening," Baz says, picking up the coupon and scanning it, and just like it had for me, the discount won't go through.

"Maybe it's a faulty coupon?" I offer. The rest of the coupons I've been scanning all day have worked perfectly.

"Hopefully," Baz says, still frowning. "I'm going to finish the milk order, and after I'm done, we should sample something."

"Must we?" I ask him. I hate sampling.

"Yes," Baz says, turning his frown on me. "We must. Ebb says our sales are down, and she and Miranda want us to start sampling every hour."

"Even during peak?" I ask.

"Even then," Baz confirms. "We need to get our numbers back up."

I sigh. Sampling is the worst. You make a drink, then separate it into tiny little sampling cups, grab a few coupons and walk around the store handing it out to people in hopes of them stopping by the cafe. It's annoying because you have to approach people directly (usually while they are looking over book titles or talking to the person they're with, it's awkward). Plus, the people who are interested in getting a sample will just stop by the cafe (not understanding that the sampling person is on the floor and not standing behind the register waiting for them).

I hate sampling. Baz also hates sampling. We are the only two people working right now.

Great.

I spend the next half hour ringing people up, making drinks and grabbing so many biscuits that I know I am going to have to put more in the oven, or we will run out.

I'm down to my last double chocolate chip when I decide that I can’t wait any longer.

"Baz?" I say, poking my head in the back.

He has a sharpie tucked behind his ear and is frowning at his clipboard. He looks up at me. "What?"

"Can you watch front while I make some more double chocolate chip? We're almost out."

"Fine," Baz says. "The order is about done anyway." He returns the clipboard to its proper place then heads out.

That was easier than I thought it would be. I let out the breath I've been holding and walk into the freezer. I should probably make two full trays just to be on the safe side and a tray of peanut butter too now that I'm back here.

I balance two baking trays on my left arm and use my right to push the doors separating the back and front.

Baz is standing at the espresso machine, making what looks like a caramel macchiato. I brush past him (my free hand briefly settles against his lower back) and walk over to the ovens.

I hear something rattle, and I look over my shoulder. Baz's expression hasn't changed, but I think he dropped the milk pitcher he was holding. Or maybe he was done steaming it and just set it down harder than usual.

"Snow," Baz says while I'm putting the biscuits in the oven. "After you're done there get a sample started."

"Can't you do it?" I ask him while selecting the proper buttons on the oven. "You are better at making drinks than I am."

Baz sighs. "Either I can make the drinks or I can pass them out. I thought you'd want to avoid passing them out."

Oh. That's new. Usually whoever makes the sample also passes out the sample. "I guess I can make the sample," I say, turning back around.

"Lovely," Baz says dryly and starts topping off the drink with caramel (I was right it was a caramel macchiato).

"What should I make?" I ask him.

"Whatever is the least complicated," he tells me then calls out the drink and hands it off to a teenager who I think works in the mall.

"Why?" We usually pass out fancy drinks to get people interested.

"Because then you are less likely to cock it up," Baz drawls.

I glare at him but end up making a caramel hot chocolate, which is one of the few drinks I am good at making.

Baz nods in approval at the finished samples. I smile and then immediately frown at his next words.

"Announce me," he says, reaching for the sample tray and heading out to the floor.

I hate announcing. It took me bloody ages to get it right and only because Baz printed out a little script for me and taped it above the phone. I know he did it to take the piss, but I am admittedly guilty of reading it every time. I am terrible with words, especially under pressure.

I pick up the phone and press three and four to connect me to the overhead speakers. "Attention Barnes and Noble guests be on the lookout for Baz from the cafe sampling our caramel hot chocolate, and don't forget that today is our buy one get one cookie sale."

I hang up. God, that sounded awful. Attention what am I a public service announcement?

While Baz is out sampling Agatha shows up for her closing shift. We get a couple of customers that Agatha and I have no problem handling, and then Baz comes back looking irritated.

"That took you a long time," I comment. Usually, he's back in ten minutes. This time he was gone close to twenty.

"I got held up," Baz says and heads into the back. He returns empty of the tray (he must have put it in the dishwasher).

"Held up by what?" Agatha asks, putting down a cleaning rag and looking interested.

I'm also interested, but I'm trying not to show it.

Baz sighs. "Youths."

Agatha and I look at each other. What kind of twenty-something says youths? Is Baz an ancient elderly lady? That would actually make so much sense.

"Youths?" I ask instead of asking if he is an elderly lady. In his current mood, I doubt he'd appreciate it.

"Youths," Baz repeats.

"What did these youths do?" Agatha asks.

"They asked me if they could pray for me," Baz reports.

Once more, Agatha and I exchange a glance. "Sorry?" I say.

"I was out sampling, and then one of them approached me. He must have been maybe fourteen. He tried to start up a conversation looking like he was five seconds away from bolting the entire time. I had to keep sampling, so I was doing my best to get out of it, politely, when suddenly three more of them approached and joined in the conversation," Baz says.

I'm confused. "How did this lead to them asking if they could pray for you?"

"I think they were some sort of Christan group bullshit," Baz says. "I kept trying to get out of it, but they wouldn't let me."

"So, they did pray for you?" Agatha clarifies.

"Yes," Baz grumbles. "Despite my pin. I've never been so uncomfortable."

I picture Baz standing in the middle of a group of teenagers holding a sampling tray while they hold hands around him, praying. I snicker.

"What's so funny, Snow?" Baz asks me dangerously.

"Come on," I say. "That's funny, isn't it?"

Agatha laughs too. "I'm sorry, Baz," she says. "But it is kind of hilarious."

"Maybe to those of you who weren't there, yes," Baz says bitterly.

Just as he finishes speaking, the song changes and a familiar voice sings, "Baby, you're a dreamer. You don't know what I need, yeah. Now I know you got heart. But come back from the stars."

Baz looks so utterly defeated. "I'm going to finish the milk order," he says like a man on the brink then heads into the back.

"He really hates this song," I say when he's gone.

Agatha nods. "It is really unbearable. I don't blame him. She sings way too high."

"Yeah," I agree. I know I argued the point with Baz earlier, but I'll admit that the song can be grating after you hear it enough.

A few hours pass with mostly no customers. It is surprisingly slow today, even with the sale. Since it is so slow, I decide to take care of my weekly task while Baz is on his half. Since Baz is always getting on my case about it. This time I'll do it before he has to remind me.

I let Agatha know what I'm doing. She says she'll get me if we get a rush.

According to the task list, I'm supposed to clean the walk-ins. Suppose it could be worse. I go searching for the cleaner (it is a special one that won't freeze), and then I grab a rag.

I'm humming the dreamer song (it's annoying but very catchy) admittedly a bit distracted when I cut my index finger on the sharp metal edge of a shelf. I flinch. I didn't know the edges were that sharp.

I lift my hand to my face and wince. That's deep I should look for a bandage. When I emerge from the walk-in, I find Baz with his back to me doing dishes.

"Agatha told me you're working on your weekly task," he says without turning to look at me. He sounds pleased for once. Or maybe I just think he sounds pleased because there is a lack of displeasure in his voice.

"Yeah," I say sheepishly. "About that…"

Something in my tone must have tipped him off because he turns around. He looks at me then at my bleeding finger. He sighs. "What happened?"

"I cut myself on a shelf," I answer.

"A shelf?" Baz says, raising an eyebrow. "How'd you manage that?"

"I don't know," I say defensively. "I just did."

Baz is giving me his Simon is an idiot look but motions me over. I reluctantly approach him, and he takes my hand. He's gentle as he examines my fingertip, and something in my chest feels warm.

I'm probably just thawing from being in the freezer for so long.

After a moment, he drops my hand. "Come with me," he says, and I do.

"Snow cut his hand," Baz explains to Agatha. "I'm taking him up to the break room to bandage it."

Agatha gives me a fond, but slightly exasperated look. "I'll just stay here then."

"Shouldn't be long," Baz assures her. "Come along, Snow."

I grumble a little but keep following him. He leads me up the stairs to the breakroom. Thankfully it seems to be empty right now.

"Take a seat," he tells me, then disappears into one of the manager's offices (Ebbs, I think).

He comes back with a first aid kit then takes the seat next to mine. He unwraps an antiseptic wipe. "Give me your hand," he says. He's not asking me. He's just ordering me, but still, I let him take my hand.

"This might sting a little," he says quietly almost gently.

I nod even though he isn't looking at me.

I watch him while he carefully cleans the cut. It has been steadily bleeding, so some blood trickled down to my palm. Baz cleans that too.

I don't know why he's taking such care with me. Maybe he doesn't trust me to do a good enough job? Maybe it's an assistant manager responsibility?

I'm feeling warm again, and the longer I look at him (at his soft focused expression, at the dark hair that escaped his bun, at his lips slightly pursed in concentration), the warmer I'm feeling. My head feels heavy, and there's an ache in my stomach that somehow doesn't hurt.

Baz lets go of my hand and grabs a bandaid (one of the fancy ones meant for fingertips). "Hold still," he says, and the sound of his voice makes me shiver a little.

He doesn't notice just carries on with fixing me up. He wraps the bandage around my index finger then looks up at me.

I feel caught staring into his eyes. They aren't just gray like I've always thought. I can see hints of greens and blues from this close. I've never been this close to Baz.

We're quiet. He's still holding my hand. I haven’t taken it back yet. We're just sort of looking at each other.

I'm not sure what this is, but I don't want to break it. I don't want to look away.

I’m not thinking at all. My mind is pleasantly blank. I’m leaning towards him (I think he might be leaning towards me too), then the door to the break room opens, and both of us jerk back.

Penny is standing in the doorway, looking at us with her head slightly tilted. "What's going on?" she asks, taking in the first aid kit and how closely we're sitting together.

"Snow cut himself on a shelf while cleaning the walk-in," Baz explains, not looking at either of us. He's putting the bandages and the wipes back into the first aid kit.

"Oh," Penny says, then looks at me. "Are you okay, Simon?"

"Yeah," I say softly. "Baz helped me."

"O-kay," Penny says. "You'll probably need to change your bandaid a few times."

"Yeah," I repeat. I'm still stuck in whatever just happened with Baz. I feel heavier almost like I could close my eyes, while at the same time I feel buzzed with energy. Kind of like I'm drunk. Did I lose too much blood? I wasn't cut that deep.

"I'm going to put the kit back," Baz says, standing up. "I'll see you downstairs, Snow."

"Thanks," I say to his retreating back.

He pauses but still doesn't turn to look at me. "You're welcome," he says, softly. Then he closes the office door behind him.

Baz

Shit.

Chapter Text

Simon

Baz has been acting strange. 

Or well stranger than usual because Baz has always been a little bit strange I guess. Ever since he bandaged my finger in the breakroom a week ago he has basically been ignoring me. 

I never thought I’d miss his little taunts and nitpicking, but I would take both over the radio silence I’m dealing with now. 

He answers me if I ask him a question and he still gives me directions when needed, but there is a cold sort of distance whenever he talks to me. 

I hate it. 

What happened in the breakroom was confusing enough on its own, but with how Baz is acting now I have even more questions than I did before. 

I just want to grab his face and –

…..

–Well make him stand still for a minute and listen to me for once! (Yeah that’s what I was thinking). 

I must be making some kind of face because Agatha gives me a concerned look. “Are you all right Simon?” 

“I’m fine,” I say and start cleaning the espresso counter a little more aggressively. 

Agatha doesn’t look convinced.

“It’s just,” I say after a tense moment of silence. I throw the cleaning rag aside. “It’s just Baz–” 

Agatha holds up a hand. “Nevermind forget I asked.” 

“No really,” I say and catch her apron before she walks away. She huffs but turns to face me. “He’s just been weird lately hasn’t he?” 

Agatha tilts her head, considering. “I’ve not noticed much difference.” 

“He’s ignoring me,” I say. “Really he barely says anything to me at all anymore.” 

Agatha’s lip sticks out a little. “Hmm, I guess so.” She raises her eyebrow at me. “Did you two get into a fight again?” 

“If we did he wouldn’t be ignoring me,” I point out and Agatha nods. 

“I suppose that is true,” Agatha agrees. “Have you tried asking him about it?” 

“He is always gone before I get the chance to,” I grumble, “it’s like he knows I want to talk to him and gets packed up and out the door faster.” 

Speaking of that. “Where is Baz anyway?” I ask, looking around me as if Baz is hiding behind the blenders or the tea tins. “Wasn’t he supposed to be working today?”

Agatha shrugs. “He asked me to cover for him.” 

“What?” I ask. “Why?” Baz never calls off work. 

Agatha shrugs again. “He’s sick.” 

Sick? 

“That can’t be right,” I argue shaking my head. “I just saw him yesterday.”

“That is what he said Simon,” Agatha says. “I talked to him over the phone. He sounded awful.” 

I’m not convinced. Baz never calls off and I’ve never seen him get sick. There has to be another reason.

I think it over. 

“That asshole,” I say finally after running through the possible scenarios. 

Agatha raises both eyebrows at me now. “Pardon?” 

“He called off work to avoid me!” I say. 

“Um no Simon,” Agatha says patiently. “I told you he called in sick.” 

“He’s faking it.” 

The more that I think about it the angrier it makes me. That dick. How dare he just run away and avoid me like that? I need to talk to him. 

Agatha shakes her head at me. “We have a customer,” she says and looks a bit relieved to go and take the woman’s order. 

I let her go without further protest. Too locked into the new realization that Baz has called off work to avoid me. 

Well. I think to myself as Agatha passes me a cup. I’ll just have to seek him out then. 

***

Baz

I heard a knock at the door to my apartment. 

I set the tea I’ve been nursing down and tie my robe tighter around my waist. On my way to the door, I check my reflection for a second and try to make my hair look a little more presentable. It doesn’t really work, but I don’t think Elliot will hold it against me since he knows I’m sick.

He said he’d be by in twenty minutes with a care package, but maybe he was able to get off work earlier. 

I told him not to bother leaving off early, but honestly, I’m so desperate for some sinus medication for my headache that I can’t say I’ll be mad at him for ignoring that.  

I swing open my door and pause. 

Elliot is not at my door with medication and cans of soup and whatever else people put in care packages. 

Simon Snow is at my door and he looks pissed. 

I think my exhausted cold brain has finally given up on me because I can’t be seeing this correctly. 

I blink tired eyes at him and try to dispel the illusion. 

The illusion does not go away, but it starting to look less pissed off and a little more embarrassed the longer I don’t say anything. 

“Snow?” I ask, deeply confused. I clear my throat so it sounds less like a croak. “What are you doing here?” 

“Um,” Snow says also looking confusing now which is a bit rich considering he’s the one standing on my doorstep at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday. “You weren’t at work today.” 

“No,” I say and pull my robe a little tighter. “I wasn’t.” 

“And you didn’t answer my text messages,” Snow continues. 

“I haven’t checked my phone in hours,” I say. “Looking at the screen for too long makes my headache worse.” 

Snow looks away briefly, but seems to rally himself and turn to face me head on again. “You seem sick,” he says with narrowed eyes. 

“That’s because I am sick,” I say. I have no idea where this conversation is going. 

“You could just be a good actor though,” Snow says, still with that suspicious look on his face. 

I blink at him, disbelieving. “Are you saying I’m faking it?” 

Snow crosses his arms, stubborn. “Yes.” 

I sigh, exhausted. “Really Snow? You came all the way over here to accuse me of faking being sick to call off work?”

“Don’t sound so incredulous,” Snow protests. “Lots of people fake calling in sick to work.”

“Really?” I ask dryly. “And how would you know?” 

Snow’s cheeks flush darker and he glances away. 

“Snow,” I say, irritated. “How many shifts of yours have I covered when you haven’t even been sick?” 

Snow is opening his mouth to answer when Elliot arrives. 

Thank god for that. 

Elliot has a reusable shopping bag in one hand and his car keys in the other. He puts his keys away into his pocket. “Simon?” he asks confused. “What are you doing here?” 

“He was just leaving,” I say, opening the door a little wider to allow Elliot to enter. 

“Are you all right mate?” Elliot asks when Snow hasn’t answered. 

“Fine,” Snow says, still blushing something awful. “Hope you feel better Baz.” 

With that, he’s gone. 

What a strange interaction that was. 

***

Simon

When I open the door to my apartment Penny is waiting for me. 

“Hey,” I say weakly because she has her exasperated disappointed in Simon face on. 

“So I got an interesting text message from Baz earlier,” Penny says. 

“Did you,” I say toeing off my shoes and hanging my parka up on the coat rack. 

“Yeah,” Penny says. “He said that you went to his apartment after work today.” 

“So what if I did?” I ask defensively and go to get some milk out of the fridge. 

Penny follows me. “Simon please tell me you honestly didn’t go to Baz’s apartment and accuse him of faking being sick?” 

I don’t answer her and get a glass out of the cabinet. 

“For the love of god Simon,” Penny says and shakes her head. “Why did you do that?” 

I take my glass of milk and set it on the counter then sit on the stool and take a sip. 

Penny waits for me to collect my thoughts even though she’s a bit pissed at me right now which I appreciate. 

“He’s just been acting strange,” I say. 

“And that gives you cause to interrogate an ill person how exactly?” 

“It wasn’t an interrogation,” I protest. 

“Simon with you it is always an interrogation,” Penny says. 

I don’t say anything for a moment. 

“So like I have a friend,” I say. 

Penny huffs. “A friend?” 

“Yes,” I say. “And this friend of mine had a weirdly charged encounter with a coworker in their breakroom.” 

Penny rolls her eyes and turns to put the kettle on. “I need some tea for this,” she mutters. 

I leave her to it and after about five minutes she returns with a mug of Earl Gray and a displeased expression. “So you and Baz had a moment in the breakroom after you cut your finger.” 

“I said my friend–” 

“All right fine whatever,” Penny says and waves a hand. “Your friend, yeah, continue.” 

“Right so,” I say. “My friend was confused about it and wanted to talk about it with their coworker.” 

“Right,” Penny says. 

“Only,” I start, “their coworker started to ignore them and leave before they got a chance to talk about it with them.” 

Penny takes a sip of her tea. 

“And then after a week of this behavior,” I say. “Another coworker said that the person they wanted to talk to called off sick.” 

Penny raises her eyebrows. 

“So it is only fair to assume,” I say, “that the coworker is faking being sick to avoid my friend.” 

“The only thing to assume,” Penny agrees, sardonically. 

I grimace. “So my friend went to confront their coworker after work about it, but it turns out their coworker really was sick and was waiting on a care package from their stupid hot boyfriend so when he opened the door he thought my friend was the boyfriend (which he definitely wasn’t because who would even want to date them in the first place certainly not my friend), and when it wasn’t he was mad and demanded to know why they were there and then the boyfriend showed up with the care package and–” 

“Yikes,” is all Penny says once I’ve stopped talking. “That is so embarrassing for you.” 

“No, see it is not embarrassing in the slightest because I clearly said that it happened to my friend,” I say. 

Penny just gives me a deadpan look in response. 

I push my glass aside and smack my face on the counter. 

“What am I going to do Pen?” I say into the granite. “I’m never going to be able to face either of them now!” 

Penny sighs but starts to rub my back anyway. I have a good friend. “It’ll be fine. You just need to apologize to Baz.” 

“Apologize to Baz?” I ask. “No, never you have to be joking.” 

She tugs on my curls. 

“Hey!” I say sitting up and knocking her hands off. “What was that for?” 

“You owe Baz an apology Simon,” Penny says. “You know you do.”  

“I know,” I whine. “I just don’t want to he’s so awful Penny.” 

“Is he?” Penny asks. “Then why do you care so much Si?” 

I look away from her. “I don’t know.” 

“I think you do know,” Penny says and pats my shoulder. “I just think you’re still in denial. Go apologize to him, Simon. You will feel better after you do.” 

Penny is right. Penny is always right. 

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll apologize tomorrow.” 

“At least give him a few days Simon,” Penny says. “He is still sick.” 

I eye our stove thoughtfully. “No, I think I’ll go tomorrow.” 

Penny sighs again. “Whatever you say, Simon.”

***

Baz

Honestly, I shouldn’t have been so surprised when I opened my door to find Simon Snow on my doorstep again, but I was nonetheless. 

“Deja Vu Snow,” I say dryly. 

“Hey,” Snow says. He’s holding Tupperware in his hands. Why is he holding Tupperware in his hands?

“Here to accuse me of faking sick again?” I ask. 

Snow shakes his head. “No actually,” he lifts his Tupperware out towards me. “I brought you soup.” 

“Soup?”

“I always make it for Penny whenever she’s sick,” Snow explains. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” 

“That’s nice?” I offer, still confused.

“Well, I thought since you’re sick that maybe it would help you too?” It sounds like a question. 

I just stare at him. 

“I am sorry,” Snow says sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have stormed over here and bothered you while you were sick to accuse you of faking it.” 

I cough into my elbow. “Right so,” I say after I’ve caught my breath, “You came over here to apologize for accusing me of faking being sick and you brought me soup?”

“It’s better if you don’t heat it in the microwave,” Simon says and nods his head.

I consider him a moment. I’m too tired to deny him right now. “Fine come in.” 

Simon grins at me. 

I dunno what he is so happy about. 

Simon 

I’m not sure why I’m so happy. Maybe it’s because Baz doesn’t hate me? He wouldn’t let someone he hates into his home right? 

Regardless I head into the kitchen and set the soup on the island. His apartment is properly posh, but also pretty homey with the dark purple curtains and several large bookshelves filled with books. I wonder how he affords it all working the job that he does. 

“Do you have a pot?” I ask. 

“Under that cabinet,” he says, pointing. He goes to sit on the couch where there are a pile of blankets and discarded tissue boxes. Seeing the state he’s in and the state his place is in makes me feel even worse for accusing him. 

I pour the soup into the pot (which is also dark purple, is that his favorite colour or something?) and grab a large wooden spoon. 

Baz coughs and then clears his throat. “There’s a spoon rest in that drawer.” He points. 

I pull it out. It’s deep purple with a gold trim. It is the poshest spoon rest I’ve ever seen. My spoon rests are all plastic and a bit stained from constant use this one is ceramic. 

As I am heating up the soup I take a look around me. While it is obvious that Baz has been sick his kitchen is still in order. His black and grey marble countertops are smooth when I rest my hand on them (ours are always a bit sticky or scratchy because with the countertops we have it is hard to tell when they are dirty). There aren’t any pots or anything in the sink just some tea mugs on the counter. 

I wonder if he doesn’t cook that much? 

Something I do take notice of is his fully stocked coffee bar. He has a purple electric tea kettle (the fancy kind with the long spout) next to a sleek black espresso machine and a grey French press. There are some glass containers labeled as tea, coffee, or espresso next to a black bean grinder. I recognize a lot of Harney & Sons tea containers from work. Some of them are closed but a few are open with loose tea bags inside. He has a couple of syrups as well. Looks like he has toffee nut, vanilla, and pistachio of all things. 

His setup gives me an idea. I wander over to take a look, setting the spoon on the spoonrest. I’m studying the teas he has and smile to myself when I see he does have lemon mint tea and peach tea. He also has a glass container of honey with a wooden honey dipper. 

“Hey, Baz?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him. 

“Yeah?” he replies. 

“Do you have lemonade?” 

Baz cocks his head at me. “I do,” he says. “In the fridge, why?” 

“Do you want me to make you a medicine ball?” I ask him, gesturing towards his espresso machine. 

“Do you know how to make a medicine ball?” Baz asks me skeptically. 

“I’ve seen you make one before,” I tell him. “You made one for Agatha when she wasn’t feeling good. I’m sure I can figure it out.” 

Baz has a strange look on his face. It isn’t a bad face for once, just kind of thoughtful. “All right,” he says. “You can try it.” 

I nod and then walk back over to the stove. I give it a couple of stirs but it is steaming so I think it is ready. “Bowl?” I ask him once I turn the heat off. 

“Cabinet next to the sink, on the right,” Baz says. 

I grab him a purple bowl with a gold trim (just like his spoon rest) and based on his kitchen layout I am able to guess where the silverware is on the first try. I take a spoon for him. 

“Do you want to eat at the counter?” I ask him. 

Baz nods and stands up. He takes a seat at one of his stools (purple again with a black leather cushion). 

I put the bowl down in front of him. “Give it a sec,” I tell him. “It is still pretty hot.” 

After that I go to his fridge and pull out some lemonade then I grab a mug from one of the lower shelves (it has a dragon on it and it looks epic honestly) and set it next to the teas. I check his electric kettle and it looks like it has enough water. Once I figure out the settings (you’re able to adjust it by temperature which is pretty neat) I set the kettle to boil. 

“You have a pretty nice setup over here,” I note, turning my head to glance at him. “You really like making drinks then?” 

Baz nods. “I do,” he sighs, “I am guessing from my apartment you can tell that money isn’t really a problem for me, but I like having a job. I don’t want to only rely on my trust fund. I am saving that mainly for grad school.” 

“Grad school?” I ask him. “Are you going to school right now?” 

“Not at the moment,” Baz says. “I took a few semesters off.” He shrugs. “But I wanted to do something in the meantime to keep busy. I like making drinks, they had a Starbucks on campus and I worked there during my undergrad, but I wanted something a little slower pace this time, and I was already familiar with our store. I’d go there a lot to look at and purchase books. It’s where I first started talking to Penny actually. She noticed the book I was reading, it was Good Omens I believe, and she’d just finished it and wanted to hear what I thought about it.”

I hum thoughtfully. “Pen has always wanted someone to talk books with,” I say. “God knows I am not the person to ask, though I do my best to listen whenever she talks about her current read. I was happy when she found someone to talk to that actually could engage with her instead of just listening.” 

“Don’t discount that,” Baz says. “She’s mentioned many times how much she appreciates when you do that.” 

My cheeks flush a little and I look away. I reach for the kettle. “I guess so.” 

“You’re a good friend, Snow,” Baz says. 

“Pen is better,” I argue. 

“Maybe,” Baz says, “but that doesn’t make you a bad one either.” 

I pour a bit of the hot water into the dragon mug where I’ve already spooned out the honey and added the lemon mint and peach tea bags. While that is steeping I pour some lemonade into the metal pitcher by the milk steamer. 

“You just have to turn it to the right,” Baz says. “To use the steamer.” 

I nod, still not looking at him (I don’t want him to see how hard I’m blushing). I place the pitcher under the steamer and turn the dial. 

After a moment hot steam starts pouring out and I raise the pitcher. I wait until I hear that familiar hollow sound then flip it off. 

“You’ve improved,” Baz says, sounding pleased.

I snort (God I wish he’d stop complimenting me my face isn’t ever going to cool off at this rate). “Wait until you try the drink first before saying that.” 

He laughs (fuck I love his laugh….wait what?) and I can see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye. “Fair enough,” he says. 

I pour the steamed lemonade into the mug and bring it over to him. I can’t meet his eyes, and I hope he just thinks I’m focused on not dropping his cool mug. 

“Thanks, Snow,” he says pulling the drink over to him. 

I swallow and bop my head. “Yeah sure,” I say, waving a hand, then turn around to start busying myself with cleaning up the pitcher and the spoon rest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, I speak up again, curious. “What are you going to grad school for?” I ask him. 

“Comparative Languages and Linguistics,” Baz answers. 

“Sounds fancy,” I say. “Did you do Linguistics as your undergrad?”

“Yes,” Baz says. “I like language.” 

I laugh a little and finally turn back around to face him, leaning against the counter. I cross my arms. “That makes sense to me.” 

Baz cocks his head at me, he looks like a bit like a confused puppy. “How’s that?” he asks.

“Well you like books,” I say, “for a start and you speak very I dunno,” I wave a hand at him, “purposefully, like you think about every word before you say it. You have a lot of poise when you talk.” 

Now it is Baz’s turn to not meet my eyes, but he’s probably just focusing on the soup again. “If that’s your way of saying I’m an arrogant twat….” he trails off, smirking.  

I startle and sit up from leaning against the counter. I raise my hands. “No, no that’s not–”

He laughs again and meets my eyes after taking a spoonful of soup. “Relax Simon I’m just teasing.” 

Simon. 

Did he just? 

I must be quiet for too long because he gives me a funny look. “You okay, Snow?” 

“Yeah fine,” my voice comes out a little high, “Did you just call me Simon?” 

Baz drops his eyes back down to his soup. “No,” he says. 

“You totally did,” I say and now I’m smiling. 

“Be happy in your delusions I guess,” Baz says waving a hand, but the corner of his mouth is quirked up a little.

“Hmm, do they teach you how to gaslight in linguistics?” I ask him, still grinning. “Or is that just you?” 

Baz laughs. “No,” he says. “I have my family to thank for that one.” 

“Yeahhhh,” I say trailing off. I think of my father who I haven’t spoken to in years. “Same.” 

Baz shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink. “This is good Snow,” he says. “You did well.” He taps his spoon against the bowl. “With this too, you’ll have to compliment your grandmother for me. Normally it is hard to taste anything when I’m sick but the seasoning is strong enough to taste without being overpowering.”

Great now I am blushing again.

Why is he being so nice to me? 

“Thanks,” I say and glance around the room, trying to distract myself. My eyes land on a large bottle on his kitchen island. “What’s that?” 

Baz’s eyes cut to where I am gesturing. “Iron pills,” he says. When I give him a confused look he sighs. “I’m anemic if you haven’t noticed how pale I am. My natural skin tone is a lot darker than this,” he raises his hand, turning the back to face me.

“Oh,” I say, a lot of things clicking into place. “Is that why you’re so cold all the time?” 

Baz nods. “Yeah,” he says, tugging the sleeves of his oversized sweater further down his hands (oversized is a cute look on him…wait Baz isn’t supposed to be cute). 

“Do the iron pills not do enough?” I ask him, looking at his purple-ish nails peeking out from his sweater. 

“They would,” he says. “I just always forget to take them.” 

“How often are you supposed to?” I ask. 

“Two in the morning, three in the afternoon, and two in the evening,” he says. “I’m pretty good about taking them in the evening it is just hard to remember at work.” 

He rubs his forehead. “I actually don’t know why I am telling you all this,” he says. 

“Me neither,” I say. This is the longest we’ve talked without arguing. 

“Must be the cold,” he says. “I’m not in my right mind.” 

I laugh. “Yeah sure,” I say, “Or maybe you’re not as much of an arsehole as you pretend to be.” 

“Oh I definitely am,” he says, laughing. “I have no doubts about that.” 

I laugh again and I’m having a hard time looking away from him. Happiness looks good on him. Now that he’s mentioned it though I have noticed before that his lips are never exactly pink, they also have a bit of a purplish hue to them. “Maybe I can remind you,” I offer. 

Baz raises an eyebrow (it is so awful how he can just do that on command, doesn’t he already have enough attractive points). “About how much of an arsehole I am? I think you do that enough already, Snow.” 

I shake my head, blood rushing to my face again. “No, no I meant about your iron pills. I can remind you when we have a shift together.” 

“You really want to do that?” Baz asks, tilting his head (which is just so unfair between the oversized sweater and the red nose. He is really giving cute puppy energy right now). 

I nod. 

“Don’t you already have enough to remember when we’re working?” Baz asks. 

I huff, a bit annoyed at the reminder of my lack of multitasking skills. “I can do it.”

Baz looks a bit dubious. I take his expression as a challenge. 

Before I can argue further though there’s a knock at the door. 

“Oh,” Baz says. “That must be Elliot again. He said he would check on me after his shift.” Baz smiles a little. “Which is nice considering I am already running out of tissues.” He sniffles a bit and wipes his nose with one, before setting his mug aside and getting to his feet to answer the door. 

My mood immediately goes sour at the mention of Elliot and only gets worse when the man enters the room. 

“Oh you’re here again Simon,” he says with a pleasant expression. Why he is always so damn pleasant? What is there to be in such a good mood about given current events in this economy (Penny likes to listen to NPR on the drive to work sometimes, ever since Baz and her exchanged best books of the year). 

“Yup,” I say, a bit shortly, I clear my throat and try to smile. “I just wanted to give Baz some soup.” 

Elliot blinks at me. “Soup?” 

Why is that his reaction? Why was it Baz’s? I feel like soup is just the thing you do when someone is sick. “Yeah,” I say. “Baz is sick.” Lame. So utterly lame.

“Right,” Elliot says and now he looks a bit amused. I’m not sure what he thinks is so funny right now, and I hate that he makes amused look so handsome. 

“Well,” I say. “Baz has his soup now so I should probably get going.” I need to leave before I snap at someone, probably Elliot who isn’t doing anything wrong right now. He is Baz’s boyfriend. It makes sense that he is here. I’m the interloper in this situation.

My stomach rolls unpleasantly at the thought (maybe I’m getting sick now). 

“You don’t have to go,” Baz says. He must just be being polite. Which is weird and I wish he’d stop doing it. 

“No, no,” I say and walk over to where I left my puffer coat. “I have plans with Penny anyway.” 

“Isn’t she on a date with Shepard right now?” Baz asks, confused. 

Shit, I forget about that. I laugh a bit awkwardly. “I mean yeah,” I say, “I’m going to join them.” 

Baz raises an eyebrow again. “You’re joining them for their anniversary dinner?” 

I laugh again (why is that my panic response). “Yup,” I say, sticking to my guns since I am already here. “Just wanted to say ah congrats and all that.” 

Baz and Elliot exchange a look. 

“Well all right then,” Baz says. “Give them my best too.” 

I shrug my coat on and start lacing up my boots. “Will do,” I say and nod at Elliot. “Nice seeing you again Elliot.” 

I’m pulling on my gloves on my way out the door (still not looking at either of them). I think I might hear Baz call my name, but I am already shutting the door. 

I have no idea how I am going to explain this one to Penny…..

Baz

Elliot and I both watch as Snow leaves my apartment like a bat out of hell. 

“He forgot his Tupperware,” I mumble staring at the door in complete confusion. 

Elliot laughs, but his face looks a little pained. 

I raise my eyebrow at him. “What’s with that face?” I ask him. 

Elliot sighs. “I’m going to put these tissues on your counter then we should probably talk." 

“All right,” I say slowly. “Let me heat up my tea first.” This feels like a tea conversation. 

Once the tissues have been put away and my medicine ball has been warmed up I’m curled back up in my blankets on my couch and Elliot has taken the armchair across from me. 

“What’s up?” I ask him. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts, I drink my tea while I wait. 

Finally, he says, “So you’re in love with Simon right? Or you at least like him a lot?” 

I feel myself go a little pale (well more pale than usual). “What makes you say that?” 

Elliot shrugs. “Just a hunch.” 

I can’t meet his eyes suddenly. 

He lets out a breath. “Thought so,” he says. 

I look back up at him. “It’s just a dumb crush.” 

“Baz I really like you,” Elliot says. “I have for a while now, but I don’t want to be with someone who likes someone else, you know?” 

I nod. “I do like you though,” I offer. 

Elliot smiles and it breaks my heart a little. “I know just not as much as Simon right?” 

“Unfortunately,” I say. “I’ll get over it. It isn’t like anything is going to come of it.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Elliot says. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Baz,” Elliot says gently. “I’m 90% sure that Simon likes you too.”

“Simon isn’t gay,” I say and at Elliot’s look I sigh thinking about the breakroom incident, “and even if he was he wouldn’t like me.” 

“Baz you’re smart it’s one of the most attractive things about you,” he says and I smile a little at that. “Just think of everything that Simon has done that has confused you. If you put “he likes you” in front of his behavior doesn’t it start to make a little more sense?” 

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Baz,” Elliot says. “He brought you soup.” 

“So? He was saying sorry for accusing me of faking sick,” I argue. 

“That isn’t something you do for just that,” Elliot says. “You do it for someone that you like. You know I’m right.” 

I sigh. “So what does this mean for us?” I ask. 

Elliot smiles. “Like I said I like you, but I don’t want to be with someone who can’t match me.” 

“That is fair,” I say. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey that’s life,” Elliot says, shrugging. “We haven’t been dating for very long anyway.” 

“You’re a good guy Elliot,” I tell him. “I really mean that.” 

“Thank you,” Elliot says and stands up. “Good luck with Simon yeah? He seems like he is going to be a handful.” 

“He doesn’t like me,” I remind him. “But even so he is already a handful.” 

“You can’t control who you like,” Elliot says then adds with a smirk, “Because if you did I am the obvious choice.” 

“You are,” I agree smiling. “So much less drama. You should find someone who can match your emotional maturity.” 

Elliot laughs and puts his coat on. “As I said you can’t control who you like.” 

He puts on his boots and walks to the door. I watch him go, feeling a bit wrong-footed. “I’ll see you around Baz.” 

“See you,” I reply. 

He closes the door to my apartment. I guess I'm single now. 

I can’t think about what he said about Simon. Today has been a weird enough day already. I am just going to try to get some sleep and recover so I can go back to work. 

I set the medicine ball aside. Simon really has been improving and it was sweet of him to make me one. 

I’m not going to think about that too hard. 

I pull out my phone and shoot Simon a quick text. “Hey, you left your Tupperware container here. I can bring it with me to work when I go back.” 

I don’t get a reply. 

***

Or at least I don’t get a reply via text. 

I woke up feeling much better the next day. I think that the cold has basically gone away and I only have a little bit of a lingering cough. Since I am feeling better I was planning on going to the shops and getting some groceries for the week. 

Instead just when I was gathering my things to head out I get a knock at my door. 

When I open it Snow is once again at my doorstep. 

“Are we making a habit of this?” I ask him. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

“Snow?” 

“Baz.” 

“Yes?”

“You’re wearing jeans.” 

I don’t know what to say to that. “Yes,” I say finally when he doesn’t continue. “I am.” 

“I’ve just,” Snow rubs the back of his head, “never seen you in anything but trousers or joggers before.” 

I look down at my jeans. They aren’t even my nice jeans, just my most worn in comfortable pair. I was only planning on going to the shops after all. 

“Can I help you?” I ask. “Or are we just going to talk about my legwear in my doorway?” 

“I’m just here to pick up the Tupperware container,” Snow says. “After that, I’ll get out of your hair.” 

I never want you out of my hair.

His face still isn’t completely back to normal. I don’t know what exactly is going on in his head right now. 

“I told you I’d just bring it to work,” I point out. 

Snow shrugs. “I need it for leftovers.” 

“Is it your only Tupperware?” I ask him. 

“I cook a lot,” Snow says as an answer. 

“Okay,” I say, slowly. “Come in then. It’s in the dishwasher.” 

Snow nods and steps inside. “Are you feeling better then?” 

I nod heading into my kitchen and opening my dishwasher. “Much better I was just going to get some grocery shopping done.” 

“So you’ll be back at work then?” he asks. 

“My next shift is Thursday,” I say and pass him his Tupperware. 

He accepts it and then doesn’t seem to know what to do now that he has it. 

“I guess I’ll just see you at work then?” He sounds unsure. 

“That is where you usually see me,” I say. “Unless you’re going to make a habit of stopping by my apartment every day.”

Snow shakes his head. “No, no I just wanted to grab my Tupperware. I won’t hold you up any longer.” 

“Lovely,” I say. “I’ll walk you out since I was already planning on leaving.” 

Snows nods, jerkily. “Great.” 

I lock my door behind us and when I turn to face him Snow has tucked the tupperware under his elbow and has his hands in his coat pockets. 

I tilt my head at him. “Do you not have gloves?” I ask him. 

He laughs and falls into step with me. “I always lose them.” 

“I can’t say I am surprised to hear that,” I say, cheeky. 

Snow bumps his shoulder against mine. “There’s no need to sound so smug.” 

“Sure there is,” I say. “I need to keep you on your toes. I can’t have you getting complacent.” 

We walk together for a time until we reach my car. “This is me,” I say. 

Snow nods. “Yeah, I remember. Glad you got your car fixed.” 

“I’m sure Penny appreciates not having to drive us both.” 

Snow laughs. “Yeah for sure.” He nods vaguely to the left. “I’ll just head to my car then.” 

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll see you at work.” 

“See ya,” Snow says, stepping backwards. He doesn’t take his eyes off me for a long moment and almost slips on some ice before he catches himself. 

“Don’t fall,” I call after him. “We can’t afford you breaking your ankle, and not coming into work.” 

“Oh fuck off,” Snow yells back, but he doesn’t sound mad for once as he says it. 

I shake my head a little and get into my car. Now that he isn’t looking I take the opportunity to stare at him. 

I keep my eyes on him until I see him turn a corner and lose sight of him. 

***

Penny 

I walk into my apartment to a very strange sight. 

Simon is laying on the floor in our living room, staring up at the ceiling in his puffer coat and holding a Tupperware in his arms for some reason. 

“Simon?” I ask hesitantly. “Is something wrong? What are you doing?” 

Simon turns his head to face me. “Penny?” 

“Yup, it’s me,” I say. “What are you doing?” I repeat. 

“Oh just thinking,” Simon says as if his behavior is completely normal. 

“And you can’t think on the sofa instead?” 

Simon shakes his head. “Didn’t occur to me, plus these seem like floor thoughts.” 

“And what are your floor thoughts about?” 

 “I went to Baz’s apartment.” 

“Okay?”

“To pick up our Tupperware.” 

“Because you made him soup yesterday right?” 

“Yup.” 

“Did you do something embarrassing again?” 

“It’s just,” I wait for him to spit it out, sometimes talking is hard for him, “he was wearing jeans Pen.” 

“Jeans?” I have no idea what is happening. 

Simon nods. “Jeans.”

“And seeing Baz in jeans made you want to lay down on the floor?” 

“Yes,” Simon says. “When did Baz get hot?” 

Oh dear. 

I shake my head and lift my hands. “I’ll just leave you to it then.” 

“But Penny the jeans–” 

“–Yes, yes I am sure they were very life-changing, and I promise to hear all about them later,” I say. “I’m just here to change out of my work clothes then I am going to Shep’s.” 

“But you just saw him yesterday?” 

“And I want to see him again now,” I say. I hope that Shepard is home. I don’t think he’s working today. If not I have a key to his place that I can use to get in and avoid this whole business for a bit. Just until Simon comes to terms with it a little more. 

A sexuality crisis is after all something to be had in private. It’s a very personal thing. 

Simon will be fine. 

Probably.

Chapter Text

Simon

I bought a bottle of iron pills today. When I was at Baz’s apartment I saw what brand and dose he normally uses. I still remember what he said about never remembering to take it and after looking up the symptoms of anemia I am even more determined to fix that. 

Is it normal for me to do this much research and put in this much work for someone who is just a coworker? Probably not but I think after my visits to his apartment I can now call Baz and I friends. 

Is it still normal for friends? I’m not sure I don’t know if I would go to this trouble for Penny. Maybe I would. I’m trying not to think about it. Just like I am trying not to think about Baz in jeans. 

But fuck that is so hard to do. Now that I’ve seen Baz in jeans it is like my entire world has turned upside down. I can’t get the image of him out of my head (well even more than usual). 

Now that I’ve figured out that I think Baz is super fit a lot of things are starting to make more sense. Like how pissed off I’ve been at Elliot for no real reason (jealousy) or how I wanted Baz to carpool with us (also jealousy) or why I’ve never been able to stop thinking about Baz in the breakroom before his shift with his hair down and falling around his face (gay feelings). 

I’m not sure if I am gay. I guess I could be bi. I’ve never really thought about it before. I’ve never had this strong of a reaction to anyone (maybe I am just Bazsexual is that a thing?). 

Penny of course has been the unwilling witness to my sexuality spirals. She was trying to finish up an essay last night but I kept walking into her room to share my most recent revelation about Baz’s attractiveness ( did you know Baz’s eyes are like deep water gray like not just blue or green but a mix of…Penny are you even listening ).  

Eventually, she banned me from her room altogether and shut off her phone notifications so I couldn’t text her. Which was a little rude. Like I get that I was being a lot but these have been life-changing revelations and I could use some support here.

Anyway, all that is to say that I am walking into my Thursday morning shift post-Baz revelations with dark circles under my eyes and an iron pill bottle in my apron. I do not feel prepared to see Baz today, but also I really really want to see Baz today (did he take his iron pill this morning, is he feeling lightheaded or cold, I hope not). 

Baz is of course not here yet. He isn’t in till noon today unlike me whose shift is starting at nine. So at least I have a little bit of time to mentally prepare to see him (I dunno how successful this extra time will be it might just make me more on edge). 

I am so tired I actually opt to get a coffee which makes Agatha raise an eyebrow at me. 

“Long night,” I say, answering her unspoken question, as I add loads of cream and sugar into my drink. 

Agatha shrugs and goes back to preparing bake case for opening. 

The first part of my shift passes quickly. We aren’t busy but my thoughts are racing fast enough that the time flies by and by the time Baz gets behind the counter I can barely believe what I am seeing. 

Baz gives me a weird look after I’ve been staring at him for at least thirty seconds. “Snow?” he asks. 

“Yeah?” I say and give him a dopey smile. 

“Are you good?” 

“Perfect,” I say, still in that dreamy tone. 

“Okaay,” Baz says drawing out the last part. “I’m going to start inventory.” 

“Kay,” I say still smiling and then I remember myself. “Oh,” I say and reach into my apron. I hold up the iron bottle triumphantly. “I got this for you.”

“Thanks?” Baz says and it sounds like a question. 

I open up the bottle and hand him an iron pill. “Here you go!” 

“Thanks,” Baz says again but it sounds a little more amused this time. He is kind of smiling at me a little. He pops it into his mouth and then takes the water cup I pass him and swallows it. 

For a moment we just sort of stare at each other before I ask hesitantly, “How’s Elliot?” 

“He’s good last I checked,” Baz says. 

“Last you checked?” I ask and hope is growing in my chest. 

“We broke up,” Baz says and shrugs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. 

“It’s fine it was mutual,” Baz says. “We weren’t really that serious.” 

“Of course,” I say and try to keep the grin off my face. I’m just sort of staring at him and Baz is looking confused again.

Agatha taps my shoulder. “Customer Simon,” she says. 

“Ah,” I say. “Right.”

Baz nods at me still looking bemused before heading into the back. 

Once I have taken care of the customer’s order and they’ve left with their drink I turn to face Agatha. I could feel her eyes on me the whole time I was making their drink. “What was that Simon?” she finally asks after giving me a once over. 

“What was what?” I ask in return, avoiding eye contact. 

“That whole business with Baz,” Agatha says waving a hand. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say and start to wipe down the countertop. 

“Playing dumb really?” Agatha asks. “That is your defense?” 

“Yup,” I say and don’t comment further. 

Agatha huffs but there is a customer so she goes and takes their order. 

Baz

Snow has been acting very strange. I mean he is always acting a bit strange but even more so than usual. 

For one thing, he keeps staring at me. Which he has done before, but usually he’s glaring at me while he is staring at me. Today he has just been looking at me. 

It is putting me off balance. 

He also keeps coming up to me with iron pills (apparently he has an alarm set for it) and he has not given me a pill at an opportune moment since he started. 

The first time I was mixing a refresher and when he popped up with a pill he made me spill the refresher across the counter. I had turned to him fuming and he’d just handed me the pill and water anyway.

The second time I was pulling out muffins from the oven and nearly burned us both. 

The third does not bear mentioning. Let's just say that I still have syrup in my hair. 

Right now Snow is in the back doing his weekly task (not cleaning the shelves this time thankfully) and so I am covering the front. We’ve been pretty slow so far today so I decided to send Agatha on her half early. 

I’m considering what to get on my lunch break when a lady approaches the counter to order. She’s blonde but not naturally so since I can see her roots. She also already has a pinched expression on her face so I am not looking forward to whatever she wants to order. 

“Hello how can I–” 

“–Sugar-free vanilla latte,” she says looking at her nails, “extra hot, light foam, extra shot of espresso with goat milk.” 

I got the first bit down but at the last addition, I pause. “I’m sorry could you repeat that last part what kind of milk do you want?” 

The woman huffs irritated and finally meets my eyes. “I said I want goat milk.” 

“Oat milk?” I clarify wondering if she just has a particularly strong accent. 

Her eyes narrow. “No not oat milk, goat milk.” 

“We don’t have goat milk,” I say and I am starting to get annoyed myself though it doesn’t show through my customer service mask. “We have 2%, skim, soy, almond, and oat milk.”

“Yes I said I wanted goat milk,” she nods like I just agreed with her. 

“We don’t have goat milk,” I repeat. 

“You just said you have it,” the woman protests. 

“No, I said oat milk,” I say. I can’t believe I am having this conversation. 

The woman starts talking very slowly, “Would you understand me better if I said it like this? I want goat milk,” she enunciates pointedly. 

“I do understand you and I am telling you we don’t have goat milk,” I say and I am starting to lose my cool now. 

“But you just said that you have goat milk,” the woman repeats. 

“No, I said oat milk as in oatmeal not the animal,” I say. 

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard–” the lady starts to say getting in my face with a finger. 

Unfortunately, it is at this point that Simon’s phone alarm goes off and he pops up next to me water cup and pill in hand. 

So as I lift my hand to keep her finger out of my face I accidentally slap the water cup out of Simon’s hand. 

The cup goes flying sending its contents right onto the lady’s face. The sound the cup makes after it hits the ground goes off like a gunshot in the suddenly quiet room. 

“Oh my god,” Simon says. “I am so–” 

“I can’t believe this!” the lady yells. “First you mock me and now you throw a drink on me! I’ve never been so insulted in my life–” 

“Snow,” I say calm setting over me like the tide after a storm. “Go to the breakroom.” 

I must have some kind of face on because Snow doesn’t even argue with me he just goes. 

Simon 

I’m so fucked. 

Baz is going to kill me. He might actually kill me this time and I don’t even think I would blame him. I mean I don’t feel bad about the water going all over that lady she was being a right menace, but I do feel bad for embarrassing Baz.

I picture the face he made and wince. He is so going to kill me. 

I’ve been on thin ice all day and this is going to be his breaking point. 

I keep my eyes on the door and I am barely paying any attention to the time. All I can focus on is that Baz is going to kill me worse he is going to hate me and just when I finally figured out— 

The door opens and Baz walks in. 

I am immediately on my feet. “Baz I am so sorry,” I start with, “I didn’t mean to–” 

Baz holds up a hand cutting off my apology before it starts. 

Then he puts his face in his hands and every part of me goes cold because it sounds like he might be crying. Fuck I made Baz cry this is the worse possible—

But then Baz lifts his head and I see that he is actually laughing. 

“I can’t believe,” Baz starts, “how did this even–” 

I start laughing too. “–I know it was like something–” 

“–Out of a fucking sitcom,” Baz says shaking his head. “And before that could you believe her?” 

“Um, would you understand me better if I said it like this,” I say in a high-pitched voice. 

“Right!” Baz says and he’s standing close to me now. “It’s like does she think I’m an idiot?” 

“She was the one being an idiot,” I say. “Not you.” 

“The things this job do to me,” Baz says and shakes his head again.

“I can’t say I feel bad about throwing the water on her,” I admit. “I am sorry I embarrassed you though.” 

Baz waves a hand, still laughing, “Fuck Snow you at least ended that insane back and forth I thought it would never end.” 

“I can’t believe some people can just be like that,” I say. 

“I know,” Baz says and he is smiling at me now.

Wow, he’s so pretty. 

He is even prettier now that he is laughing with me not at me. 

I can’t look away.

Baz

Simon is staring again. With his blue eyes larger than normal. Like he is straining them to see more of whatever is in front of him. 

I’m in front of him. 

He’s looking at me. From this close I can see when his pupils dilate (maybe Elliot was right). 

I want to kiss him. 

I always want to kiss him. 

But right now with happiness still flushing his cheeks my want feels like a physical presence in the room. 

The otherwise empty room. 

We’re alone. 

Simon is reaching for me. 

I want to kiss him. 

And then he kisses me.

Simon 

I can’t help myself. 

I can’t just keep looking at him looking like that and not do something about it. So I don’t think. I just do. 

I kiss him. 

And he kisses me back. 

He wraps his arms around my waist and mine leave his face to go around his neck pulling him closer to me. Fuck he smells so good. I didn’t think anyone could smell this good. I didn’t think I could ever feel like this about anyone. 

I don’t know what to think. 

I just keep kissing him. 

Baz

Simon is a good kisser. Different from kissing Elliot. Or maybe that is just because I am kissing Simon. 

I’m kissing Simon.  

My ridiculous, genuine, dumbass of a crush. 

He slips his tongue into my mouth. 

I pull him even closer to me. 

I’m not thinking anymore. 

Simon

Baz… Baz…. Baz…. Baz….

All my thoughts are about him. How he smells, how he tastes, how he feels so right in my arms. Of the little gasps he made when I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging on it a little like I’ve always wanted to do. 

I can admit that I’ve always wanted to do that. Since the moment I saw him. It was just buried underneath all that exaggerated hatred.  

I’ve got you now. Exactly where I’ve always wanted you.

I’m just slipping the hand that isn't in his hair underneath his shirt when the door opens. 

I jerk back and face the door. 

Penny is blinking at us looking startled. She’s holding her bag with one hand. She must have just arrived for her shift. 

Seeing her jolts me back into reality. 

Where we are, what we’ve done, what the consequences might be for Baz. What this means for me.

I suddenly can’t face him anymore. I don’t look back I just grab my coat and bolt. 

***

Baz

Simon hasn’t answered my texts. I keep asking him if we can talk but I don’t get a respond back. And I know he’s getting them, he just keeps leaving me on read. 

Eventually, I stop trying. 

He stops coming to work and then after that, he tells Ebb that he quits. 

When I heard that my mouth dropped open. 

“He just said that he couldn’t work here anymore?” I asked. 

Ebb had shrugged as she cleaned the espresso machine. “Yeah, basically he told me that he could work for two weeks if we needed, but that he’d really rather not. The boy seemed so distraught that I told him we’d manage fine. The poor dear was so pale.” 

Ebb’s fucking bleeding heart is once again the cause of my problems.

I’m not sure what I did to freak Simon out so bad that he felt he needed to quit, but it is making my stomach turn. 

I decide to confront Penny about it. 

“What is going on with Snow?” I catch her on her half. She’s eating from the Tupperware I recognize as Snows and reading The Vanishing Half. 

“Just give him time Baz,” Penny says and puts her book aside. 

“Time?” I huff. “Really he wants even more of my time? Fuck’s sake Bunce he could at least tell me if I hurt him.” 

Penny’s eyes widen. “No Baz, not that,” she tells me. “He’s fine just processing.” 

“Processing?”

“Yeah it’s been hell,” she sighs and gives me a tired smile, “I promise everything will work out Baz.” 

I huff again but sit down next to her. I rest my head on my crossed arms. “How do you know that?” 

“I just do,” she says and pats my head. “Just trust me.” 

***

I’ve been trying to do what Penny said but it has been a month now and I still haven’t heard anything from Simon. I am starting to get the feeling that I was just a mistake. A blip in Simon Snow’s straight record or whatever. Everyone is allowed to be curious I guess. 

The thought makes me bitter and I’ve been shorter with everyone at work as a result. Niall isn’t speaking to me right now and Agatha has been giving me annoyed looks when she thinks I can’t see her. Ebb keeps giving me commiserating pats on the shoulder (why is everyone so into patting me all of a sudden? I’m not a cat). 

“Baz we have a customer,” I hear Agatha call from up front when I am in the middle of doing the milk order. 

Why is she calling me? She still has ten minutes before her half. Maybe there is an issue with a customer. 

Lovely that is just what I need today. 

I push the doors open and meet the eyes of Simon Snow. 

I can feel my face turn to ice. 

“Great,” Agatha says, “You’re here please take that I’m going on my half.” 

“But,” I start and Agatha pats me on the arm (seriously?). 

“You’ve been a bitch for the past month just go talk to him,” Agatha whispers in my ear, and before I can answer that she’s gone. 

I glare at her back but nonetheless go up to take Snow’s order. 

“What can I get started for you?” I ask. 

“Um,” Snow says. “Hi, Baz.”

"What can I get started for you,” I repeat.

“Oh right um,” he studies the menu closely as if he literally didn’t work here a month ago. “I’ll just take a black tea.” 

“Size?” 

“Tall,” Snow says. “Just a tall would be fine.”

I type it into the register. “Anything else?” 

“Ah yeah,” Snow says and rubs the back of his neck. “Can we talk?” 

“Can we? I didn’t think you were capable of that,” I say sharply. 

“All right I deserved that.”

“You deserve worse,” I mutter and Simon winces. “That’ll be–” 

“Yeah I know,” Simon says and inserts his debit card. “Look I know you don’t have any reason to talk to me.” 

“That’s right,” I say. “I don’t.” The machine beeps. 

“Just hear me out okay?” Simon says. The machine beeps again. 

“Why?” I ask then sigh. “Remove your card.” 

“What?” Simon blinks. 

The machine beeps and I point at it. “Remove your card, Snow.” 

He does so and I step away from the counter and go to make his tea before he can get another word in.

When I’m back I hold the tea out. 

Simon doesn’t take it. “Baz can we please talk?”

Agatha Wellbelove is dead to me. 

“I have other customers,” I tell him. 

Simon just looks at me. 

I sigh finally. “My shift is over in an hour.” 

Simon smiles. 

Simon 

I go sit at one of the tables to wait for Baz to get off work. I knew that he wouldn’t be pleased to see me, but I still wasn’t completely prepared for his coldness. 

Still, he had agreed to talk to me and so I am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

I kill time on my phone by messaging Penny for support. I really need to like buy her a book while I’m here. I know she can get them for a discounted price but she deserves something nice for all that she’s done for me recently. I have been cooking us dinner basically every night but something else on top of that would be nice I think. 

When Baz comes to sit down an hour later sugary drink in one hand I ask him, “What book do you think Penny would like?” 

Baz blinks at me. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Oh no,” I say sheepish. “The thought just occurred to me, never mind, thanks for um sitting down.” 

Baz raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink. Fuck he’s so cool. “You wanted to talk Snow so talk.” 

“Right,” I say and then drum my fingers on the table. This is going to be the hard part. “So um after we kissed I kind of freaked out.” 

“You don’t say,” Baz says dryly. 

“I just had a lot to think about,” I say. “Plus you’d just broken up with Elliot and I wasn’t even sure I was gay yet even though I knew that I liked you–” 

“–Wait you liked me?” Baz asks. 

“Duh,” I say and wave a hand. “According to Penny I’m obsessed with you anyway that isn’t the point.”

“It isn’t?” 

“Nope I like you that can be added to the record,” I wave my hand again, “Anyway so I like you right, but you just broke up with a dude, and you were technically almost kind of my boss at work. I thought that was something that could eventually reflect badly on you so I quit.” 

“Wait wait,” Baz says lifting a hand. “You’re saying you haven’t been talking to me because you wanted me to process my breakup?” 

“Um yeah,” I say wondering why he is looking at me like that. “Isn’t that the thing to do?” 

Baz shakes his head. “And you quit for the sake of my reputation?” 

“Basically and mine too I guess,” I shrug and do a hand wavy motion, “Sort of.” 

“Snow I would have taken a text at least,” Baz says. “Just saying all that. I have been driving myself crazy trying to figure out where I went wrong.” 

“You didn’t,” I say. “I mean I kissed you and then basically ignored you for a month. You’re like the injured party here.” 

Baz laughs a little and the ice around his eyes melts slightly. “Glad we agree.” 

“Plus I needed time to like sort out my feelings and get up the nerve to talk to you. Also, I needed to get a new job which I did so,” I sigh and shake my head, “Fuck I am so bad at this.” 

“Yeah,” Baz agrees, but he is smiling at me now. “Go on.” 

“I do have a job at a bakery,” I repeat. “You wouldn’t be dating an unemployed loser.” 

“Wouldn’t be dating?” Baz repeats and his teeth are showing now. 

He’s so pretty. 

My cheeks are turning red. “Yeah I mean I want to date you. Like properly.” 

“Properly?” Baz mummers and his eyes are half-lidded. 

I swallow. “Like not just kiss you in our breakroom and dip,” I clarify, “like take you out on a date. That sort of thing.” 

“Mmm,” Baz hums considering. “Maybe.”

My heart jumps. “Maybe?” 

Baz looks amused. “What exactly do you have planned?” 

I glance away from him and rub my neck again. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far.” 

Baz actually laughs and I can’t help how my eyes are drawn to the sound. 

“You’re so pretty,” I say and then I immediately blush when I realize I spoke out loud. 

Now Baz is the one flushing and I am smitten by the sight of his red cheeks. 

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” I tell him. 

“Out loud?” 

“Yeah I mean I am usually thinking it,” I admit, smiling shyly. “Cause you are you know. So pretty and smart and funny and–” I cut myself off with a sigh. 

Baz looks startled. 

“Penny did say I was obsessed with you,” I remind him.

Baz looks away for a moment, thinking over something. “That makes both of us then,” he says.

I stare at him. “What?”

“You are also pretty, smart, and funny,” Baz says. 

“Baz I am not,” I protest holding my hands out in front of me. 

“I know I’ve given you a hard time in the past,” Baz says, “and I am sorry about that it was very pulling the girl’s pigtails of me. You are smart Simon.” 

I suddenly can’t meet his eyes. I know I am bright red and Baz laughs again. That laugh makes me look up. I can’t resist watching him laugh. 

“So is that a yes?” I ask him. 

Baz hums. “I said maybe Snow.” 

“But can it maybe be a yes?” I ask smiling at him. 

Baz stands up and for a moment I’m worried I ruined everything, but he just pulls me to my feet in one fluid motion and kisses me. 

I can hear Agatha whistle at us and I smile against Baz’s mouth and kiss him back. 

After a moment he pulls away. “Just as long as it isn’t coffee Snow after what you put me through this past month I deserve a 5-star meal.” 

“I’m not sure I can swing a 5-star meal,” I say and I wrap my arms around him holding him close to me. “Want to help me pick out a book for Penny?”

Baz smiles. “I know just the book,” he says and leans in to kiss me again. “I’ll even let you use my discount code.” 

It's a good start.

***

END