Archive of Our Own ^beta

BAZ

           Being a vampire in London is the worst.

           I love everything else about London.  I spent my entire childhood living in the countryside, so the hustle and bustle of the city is exciting and refreshing.  There’s no shortage of places to go or things to do.  And since Simon spent his whole childhood locked up in children’s homes where he was lucky enough to see daylight let alone a museum, he’s more than willing to go out with me to experience some of the culture.  It’s like walking around London with a little kid.  He gets way too excited over things that don’t matter and wants to eat everything.  Sometimes I find it exhausting.  Mostly I find it adorable.

           I love my job.  I’m a professor of linguistics at my alma mater, the London School of Economics.  Turns out, being a magician means I’m really good at studying languages.  I’ve even invented a few new spells along the way.  Linguistics keeps me close to the language in a way I never dreamed of.  It’s fascinating.

           Simon used to worry that he’d never find a job.  That he wasn’t good at anything and that there wasn’t a subject that interested him enough to pursue forever.  He used to fret about it at night, during our last year at university.  We’d be all curled up in bed and he’d be whining about what he was going to do with himself after school.

           “You don’t have to do anything,” I’d say, burying my face in his hair, trying to get him to focus on me for a bit (we were in bed and everything).  “I’ll support you.  We can live off my salary.”

           “So I’m just supposed to mooch off you like a sad housewife?” he’d say, completely ignoring my attempts to seduce him.

           “There’s nothing wrong with being a housewife.  You can cook and clean and massage my feet for me when I get home.”  Then he’d burst out laughing and finally turn towards me, so close our noses would touch.

           “If I did that, one of us would burn the house down.  I’m not sure which one of us, but it would happen.”

           “Yeah, but we could take bets on who it would be.  It’d be like old times.”

           “Shut up,” he’d say, but he’d be grinning from ear to ear.  Then he’d kiss me (finally).

            He worried like that right up until Christmas, when my stepmother overheard him telling my little siblings a story he had made up on the spot (he’s surprisingly good with kids.  I guess growing up in a children’s home had one benefit).  Anyway, my stepmother was so impressed with his storytelling ability that she introduced him to a friend of hers who’s a publisher.  Now he writes children’s books.  He writes for the Normals, but most of his books contain a brave hero and his brilliant sidekick who need to defeat some kind of dark magical creature and save the day (he’s not very creative).  It’s actually been quite cathartic for him, to tell his life story through 25 page picture books for 7 year olds.  (Sometimes, when he gets stuck, I tell him that he’s attempting to write for too advanced an audience and maybe he should try for a less sophisticated set.  I know I shouldn’t tease him like that, but it’s just too much fun.  And he knows I don’t mean it.  He knows I’m proud of him.)

            But the thing I probably love most about London is my flat.  Or rather, my flatmate.  I suppose Simon would be my flatmate no matter where we lived (we’re not officially married, my father would disown me, but we might as well be), but that doesn’t make me like it any less.  I love living with Simon now that we’re sleeping together instead of trying to kill each other.  I love that he’s just around, all the time.  I don’t have to call him to make plans, or show up too early and catch Bunce in her dressing gown.  I love that he’s always there to greet me when I get home (I guess he is kind of like a housewife in that respect.  Simon works from home.)  I moved in a year ago, right after Bunce moved out.  To America.  To get married.  Simon and I went to the wedding and we haven’t seen Bunce since.  Simon misses her like crazy, even though they video chat almost every day.

            Hell, I miss Bunce.  She’s the most interesting, intelligent, and entertaining friend I’ve ever had.  And the most powerful (now that Simon’s lost his magic).  I can talk to Bunce about things that I can’t talk to anyone else about, either because they don’t know, don’t care, or are too stupid to understand.  She’s the best friend I’ve got, probably the best friend I’ve ever had. (Simon doesn’t count.  He went from mortal enemy to boyfriend so quickly that he’s never been a friend in my mind.  We sort of skipped that part.)  I don’t talk to Bunce nearly as much as I did when she lived here, but she texts and we’ll call each other occasionally with a question.  Sometimes I sit in on her video chat with Simon.

             But being a vampire in London is the worst.  There’s nowhere to hunt (seeing as I don’t hunt people.)  There’s no lack of food, there are plenty of pigeons and rats, but there’s no privacy.  There’s always someone in the park, even at 3 in the morning (I know, I’ve checked.)  And even though I’ve become exceptional with invisibility spells (it’s an occupational hazard of living with someone who has wings and tail and can’t cast his own spells), they don’t mask sound or smell, and I still feel completely vulnerable drinking when I can see people around (I’ve tried).  Simon once suggested buying mice from the pet store for me to eat.

              “And what do we tell the owner?” I replied.  “When he asks why we’re buying a crate of mice every week?”  Simon shrugged.

              “Tell him we’ve got a snake.”  I rolled my eyes.

              “Snow, do you have any idea how few mice a snake actually eats?  We’d have to have a house full of them for him to believe that.”  Simon looked so dejected that I laughed and gave him a kiss.

              “It was sweet that you tried though,” I said, kissing him again. 

              He then suggested that we raise our own, but the thought was too morbid for me to think about. 

              I drink the occasional rat that finds its way into our flat, and we spend a lot of weekends in the countryside, where hunting is easy, but most days I have to settle for a vampire bar.

              I refuse to go Nicodemus’s bar in Covent Garden.  That’s not my scene (plus, I never want to run into him.)  I found a pub that I can tolerate in a back alley, run by an ancient vampire named Hank who only has two teeth (and they’re not his fangs) and more wrinkles than a dried up fig.  I like the pub because he serves Normals too, so I don’t feel too much like I’m part of a vampire community (I never want to be part of a vampire community.)  I also like it because, as far as I’m aware, it’s the only vampire bar in London that will serve non-human blood.  I stop by after work every day and order the usual.  Hank knows all his vampire customers so he knows what that means.  He’ll ask me, “sweet or dry?”  (Sweet means animal.  Dry means human.  I always order sweet.  I don’t ever want to develop a taste for human blood.)  Then he brings me a glass of blood in a long stemmed wine glass.  Like it’s a particularly viscous red wine.  Even if there’s a Normal sitting right next to you.  I go to the pub because I have no choice, but I much prefer hunting.  I prefer knowing where the blood is coming from.  And I definitely prefer drinking in private (I don’t even like drinking in front of Simon, even though he’s made it perfectly clear to me on multiple occasions that he doesn’t mind it one bit.)

           One day, Simon and I will move to the countryside.  But for now, we’re both enjoying London too much to leave.  I still can’t get over how happy I am.  Part of me still feels like this is all a dream, even all these years later.  Simon and I have settled into a perfect, peaceful life.  I’m content.  I’m happy.  I wouldn’t change anything.

           I never expected Agatha Wellbelove of all people to fall out of the sky and mess everything up.

BAZ

           Simon’s sitting on the couch when I get home, papers strewn all over the coffee table.  He has a desk.  I know he has a desk.  I’m just not sure he knows he knows he has a desk.

           “Hey Snow,” I say, sitting down next to him.  “Working hard?”  He leans over to give me kiss, then returns immediately to the drawing in his hand.

           “Michelle finally sent me these.  I want to get them back to her tomorrow.  Is this how you think a troll should look?”  Michelle is Simon’s illustrator.  She’s a pretty Normal with delicate features and a shock of red hair.  She also has a wicked crush on Simon.  You’d think that would bother me, but watching him moon over Agatha for all those years kind of killed my jealous tendencies.  Plus, Simon had her over for tea once, back when Bunce was still living here, and the two of us made such a show of being both intimidating and possessive (we’re good at that) that I think she lost interest.

           “Snow, you know what a troll looks like.  You’ve fought enough of them.”  I look at the drawing properly.  “And that’s not it.”  Simon sighs.

           “I know.  But this is a children’s book, so I don’t want them to be too realistic.  The first time I saw one, I had nightmares about it for months.”

           “That’s because it tried to suck your brain out through your eyes,” I point out. “Most people would have nightmares after that.”  Simon shrugs.

           “Still…”  He’s thinking too hard about this, but it’s cute watching him try.  I give him a kiss on the cheek and stand.

           “I’m going to order dinner,” I say.  “Does Indian sound good?”  Simon gives me a grin that he reserves for food.

           “Sounds greats.  Thanks Baz.”

SIMON

           I’m not sure what time it is when the phone wakes me up.  I know it’s dark out.  Baz groans into his pillow.

           “Who the hell is that?” he grumbles.  “And why are they calling before dawn?”

           “Sorry,” I say, fumbling for my phone.  I look at the screen.

           “It’s Penny,” I say, sitting up.  Suddenly Baz and I are much more awake.  Penny wouldn’t call in the middle of the night for no reason (even though it’s technically not the middle of the night for her yet.)  She knows better.  Baz sits up too and looks at my phone with concern.  I answer it on speaker so we both can hear.

           “Hi Penny,” I say.

           “Simon!”  She doesn’t sound like she’s in danger.  She sounds excited.

           “Is everything ok?  It’s 3 am.”

           “I know, I’m sorry, but I had to call you.  This couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

           “What couldn’t wait?  Is everything’s alright?  Nobody’s dead or on fire or anything?”

           “No, everyone’s fine Simon.  I just have someone here who wants to talk to you.”  I look at Baz and he shrugs like Penny has lost it.  I can hear scuffling in the background as Penny passes the phone around.

           “Simon?”  I freeze.  I haven’t heard that voice in years.

           “Agatha?”

           “Simon,” she says again, and she sounds relived.  “It’s…it’s really good to hear your voice.”

           “You too Agatha,” I say, but I’m worried as hell and dumbfounded as to what is happening.  Baz can tell and puts a comforting arm over my shoulders.  I lean into him.

           “Agatha,” I say.  “How are you?  Is everything alright?”  There’s a pause on the other end.

           “Simon,” she says, and I think she’s crying.  “Can you come here?”

           “Here where?  To Penny’s house?”

           “Yes.  I really need to talk to you, and I just can’t do this over the phone.”  She pauses and I know she’s crying.  “Please?”  Baz slips away from me and goes over to his desk.  He opens his laptop and types furiously.

           “I can get us on the 10:00 flight to Chicago,” he says.  I nod.

           “I’ll be there tomorrow Agatha, ok?  Just wait with Penny.  Everything’s going to be ok.”

           “Thanks Simon,” she says.  There’s some more scuffling and Penny comes back on.

           “Simon?”

           “Penny, is everything really ok?  What’s going on?”

           “Everything’s fine Simon,” she assures me.  “Really.  Agatha’s fine, she’s just…well she needs you.  I can’t say why, it’s not for me to tell, but don’t worry about her.  I’ll keep an eye on her until you get here.”

           “Thanks Penny.”

           “And don’t fret too much.  This might actually turn out to be a good thing.”  I raise my eyebrow.

           “How?”

           “You’ll see.  I’ll see you tomorrow ok?”

           “See you.”  I hang up.  Baz gets back into bed and wraps me up in his arms.

           “If Bunce says she’s fine, then she’s fine,” he says reassuringly, rubbing my back.

           “Yeah but what happened to her?  I haven’t even talked to her in ages and suddenly she needs to see me right away?  That’s not normal.  And how could this be a good thing?”

           “Bunce is handling it.  And you’ll see her tomorrow.  Everything will be ok Simon.”  He gives me a comforting squeeze.

           “You don’t have to come with you know,” I say.  Baz shakes his head.

           “Yes I do.”  I don’t argue.  I’m glad he’s coming.

BAZ

           Neither of us can go back to sleep, so I get up to pack.  I pack for both of us, since Simon is in no condition to do much more than sit in bed and fret.

           It’d be a lie to say I wasn’t worried about Wellbelove.  No one has seen hide or hair from her since she ran off to California (although Bunce texts her sometimes) and suddenly she just magically reappears and needs to see Simon this instant?  I can’t even imagine what could have happened, but I do trust Bunce.  If it had been serious, she would have told us so.

           I call my department and tell them I’m taking leave for a few days for a family emergency.  I also email Michelle and tell her it may take Simon a few days to get her proofs back to her.  Then I force Simon to eat something (it isn’t hard, but I’m worried that if I don’t tell him to he might forget, given the state he’s in).  We get into my car, make a quick stop at Hank’s so I can have a drink (I’m not sure when I’ll next get the chance), and head to Heathrow.

           Simon doesn’t say much on the flight.  Just holds my hand and stares out the window.  Finally, I can’t stand to see him so depressed and anxious anymore, so I cast Sweet dreams on him so he can get a little sleep.

           Micah picks us up at the airport.

           “Hey guys!” he says, and he seems way too cheerful, given the circumstances.  “How’s it going?”  I raise an eyebrow at him, and Simon just shrugs.  Micah chuckles.

           “That good huh?” he teases.  I roll my eyes.

           “Well, how do you expect us to be?” I ask.  “We get a mysterious phone call in the middle of the night from a girl we haven’t heard from in ages asking us to drop everything and fly halfway around the world for an emergency that she can’t even explain.  How would you be?”  Micah waves me off.

           “Agatha’s fine.  If you ask me, she’s overreacting.  She’s always been a bit of a drama queen, hasn’t she?”

           “Is she really ok?” Simon asks.  Micah grins.

           “Why don’t you ask her that?  Come on, the girls are waiting.”

           It takes over two hours to get to Micah and Bunce’s home in central Illinois.  Micah’s family lives on a farm where they raise corn and chickens (I don’t know how Bunce stands it.  I guess she gets by on her scholarship.  Bunce writes Magickal history and sociology books and biographies of famous Mages.)

           Bunce runs out of the house when the car pulls up, and Simon smiles despite himself.  (I have to work hard to suppress a smile.  Crowley, it’s good to see her.)  Simon gets out of the car and Bunce barrels into him.

           “Simon!” she squeals, throwing her arms around him.  “It’s so good to see you!”

           “It’s good to see you too,” Simon says, and I can tell he means it, despite the circumstances.  “But what happened to ‘don’t make a scene?’”  Bunce rolls her eyes.

“It’s not a scene, it’s a hug.  Learn the difference.”  She then turns to me and gives me a hug too.

           “Hey Baz, how’s it going?”

           “Not too bad Bunce,” I say, trying to sound cool and casual.

           “It’s Sanchez now you know.”  I shrug.

           “Yeah, whatever Bunce.”  She grins at me.

           “Penny,” Simon cuts in.  “How’s Agatha?”  Bunce gives him a warm smile.

           “Why don’t you see for yourself?  She’s inside.”

           We walk through a yard full of broken lawn furniture and chickens into a three story farmhouse that looks like one good wind would blow it over.  (I can feel the magic being used to hold it up so I’m not too worried).  We follow Bunce into the kitchen, and there she is.

           Wellbelove.  Sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of tea.  Her skin is tanner and her hair is shorter, but she’s every bit as beautiful as I remember.  She looks up when we walk in.

           “Simon,” she says, and she looks both worried and relieved to see him.

           “Agatha…” Simon starts to say, but he trails off as Agatha stands up. 

Her skin is tanner.

Her hair is shorter.

She’s every bit as beautiful as I remember.

And she’s at least six months gone.

BAZ

           Simon’s lost it.

           “Agatha,” he says.  “I…you’re…you…um…you…”  I really want to tell him to use his words, but I know how much he hates that, and now doesn’t really seem like the time.  Simon swallows.

           “It’s…it’s good to see you,” he says pathetically.  I suppress a groan with great difficulty.  He’s clearly actively ignoring the subject at hand because he can’t bring himself to mention it.  But I’ll wait.  He’ll get it out eventually.  He always does.

           Wellbelove blushes.

           “It’s good to see you too Simon.”  She looks down and places a hand on her belly, and even Simon can’t ignore it anymore.

           “So, um, you’re pregnant?”  He says it like it’s a question rather than an obvious statement of fact.  Wellbelove nods.  I’ve never seen Simon look more uncomfortable.

           “Um, congratulations,” he says weakly.  Wellbelove’s face falls.

“Would you like us to leave you two alone?” I offer.  Now that I know that Wellbelove isn’t missing a limb or suffering from small pox, I’m much less concerned, and if Simon wants to be alone with her, that would make sense to me.  But Agatha shakes her head.

“No Baz, I’d like you here for this.”  I nod.  Bunce clearly can’t stand the atmosphere anymore.

           “Let’s all sit down for now,” she says.  “I’ll make tea.”

           We all sit around the table and Bunce serves us tea and scones.  Agatha shifts around uncomfortably but doesn’t say anything.  Simon grabs my hand under the table and I give it a squeeze.

           “Well Agatha,” Bunce prompts.  “Why don’t you tell Simon and Baz what you told me?”

SIMON

           I don’t know what to make of all this.  I finally get to see Agatha after all these years, and she’s pregnant.  She’s not married, I don’t think.  Penny still talks to her, so she keeps me updated on everything she knows, but she never mentioned marriage or a baby, or even a boyfriend.  I guess I’m relieved that she seems to be healthy and in one piece, but she looks so depressed that my concern hasn’t gone away at all.

           Baz is squeezing my hand under the table, and I’m so grateful for his comfort I can’t even express it.

           Agatha takes a deep breath.

           “I never wanted to get pregnant,” she says.  “It was an accident.  I don’t want children.  I’m not even dating the father anymore.  I broke up with him when I found out.”  She runs her finger along the rim of her mug.

           “He was a Normal,” she says.  Baz’s eyes narrow and he looks at Agatha’s belly.

           “A Normal?  Are you sure?” he asks. Agatha sighs.

           “I’m sure.” 

           “What’s wrong Baz?” I ask.

           “Magic manifests in a fetus around month 5 or 6,” he explains.  “You can start to feel it, just like you can feel it from any magician.  You can tell how powerful the baby will be.”  He frowns.  “It’s no you in there, but that baby is at least as powerful as me or Bunce.”  I’m shocked.  Agatha’s not that powerful, she never was.  It’s not unheard of for children to have more power than their parents, but usually Normal blood dilutes magic something awful.  At least, that’s what everyone I know believes.

           Penny nods.

           “I agree with Baz,” she said.  “I was shocked when Agatha told me.  I was sure she had met some ridiculously powerful mage.”  Baz smirks.

           “Maybe we should encourage more people to marry Normals.”  Bunce frowns.

           “Don’t even joke about that Baz.  Anyway, Agatha, keep going!”  Penny seems way too happy about all this, considering the state Agatha is in.

           “Well,” Agatha says, “I was hoping, you know, that the baby wouldn’t have any magic at all.  I can’t…I can’t raise a magician.  I just can’t.  I…left.”  The silence in the room is thick.  I swallow.

           “You…left?” I ask.  “You left magic?  The World of Mages?”  Agatha nods.

           “I still talk to my parents, and Helen, and Penny because she makes me.”  Penny flashes her a proud smile, like she gives exactly two fucks about what Agatha wants.  “I haven’t told my parents that I’ve left, but I haven’t used magic since Watford, and I don’t plan to.  I want to live as a Normal.  But I just can’t let a mage be raised as a Normal.  Magic is too precious.  I haven’t forgotten everything I know.”  Agatha places a hand on her belly.  “And I also don’t want to.  I don’t want to feel her magic every day and be reminded of everything.  It’s bad enough that I have to feel my own.”

           “So, what are you going to do?” I ask.  Agatha looks at me, and she smiles for the first time.  A desperate, hopeful smile.

           “I was hoping, Simon, that you and Baz might want her.  Seeing as you can’t have children of your own.”  My jaw drops all the way into the floor.  Beside me, I can feel Baz go rigid.

           “You want to run that by us again Wellbelove?” Baz says.  “You want to give us your baby?”  Agatha nods.

           “The two of you obviously can’t have one together,” she says.  “And you can’t have children at all Baz.  Simon, you technically could, but they probably wouldn’t have any magic.  I thought, maybe, that you might want a baby and this could be a way for you to have one…” she trails off and looks at the floor.  “I’ll understand if you don’t want to do this…”

           “No!” Baz cuts her off.  “I mean…” he looks at me.  “Would you excuse us for a minute?”  He doesn’t wait for the answer before he yanks my hand, pulling me out of the house into the yard.  He rounds on me the second the door closes.

           “Well?” he asks, and his eyes are alight.  “What do you think?”

           “I…”  I’m not sure what to think.  This all happened so quickly.  I had ruled children out when I chose Baz.  Not that I had really thought about them when I assumed I was going to marry Agatha (I didn’t think I’d live that long), but Baz sealed the deal.  I suppose I had thought about adopting a few times (I did grow up in a children’s home, adoption was something I thought about almost every day when I was a kid, I know the process), but Baz would never accept a Normal child, so I just kind of forgot about it.  Children aren’t on my radar anymore.

           “Simon,” Baz says eagerly.  “This is a golden opportunity for us.  Without this, we’ll likely never have children.”  Baz looks more excited than he has in a long time.  He’s practically glowing.

           “You really want this, don’t you?” I ask.

           “I course I do!  Why wouldn’t I?”  Baz takes my hands.

           “Simon, we could be parents.  We could have a baby.  A baby with magic.  I never thought it was possible.”  I must still look shell-shocked, because his excitement wanes a bit and his expression turns serious.

           “But you have to want this too Simon.  We can’t do it if I’m the only one.”  Maybe I’m just going with the flow.  Maybe Baz’s excitement is contagious.  Maybe I really do want this.  I’m not sure which one of those is true right now, but I’m warming up to the idea considerably (I was never really against it in the first place).  A baby.  A real baby.  I could be a father.  Baz and I could have a family.

           And now I think I’m starting to feel what Baz is feeling.  A family.  My family.  Our family.  I look up at Baz and my thoughts must be written all over my face because he’s beaming at me.  I give him a wide grin.

           “I’m in,” I say.  “Let’s say yes.”  Baz kisses me, laughs gleefully, then kisses me again.  He gives me an enormous hug.

           “Thank you Simon,” he whispers in my ear.  I hug him back.

           “I’m not doing this for you.  I’m doing this for us.”

           “I know,” Baz says, giving me a squeeze.  “But still, thank you.”

BAZ

           Bunce thinks a party is in order.

           “We have the whole gang together for the first time in…well ever,” she argues.  “Baz wasn’t part of the group 4^th year, and Agatha hasn’t been around recently.  Plus we’re going to have a baby.”  I roll my eyes.

           “What do you mean ‘we’ Bunce?  Wellbelove’s having a baby.  Snow and I are adopting a baby.  You’re just a spectator.”

           “The hell I am.  If you think I’m not going to play an enormous role in my niece’s life, you’ve got another thing coming.”  (Agatha told us the baby is a girl.  A girl!  I’m going to have a daughter.  Crowley.)  I laugh.

           “Since when are you a relative Bunce?”  She rolls her eyes.

           “I’ve been Simon’s family long before you were, Baz.  Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”  I smirk.

           “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

           I still can’t believe this is all happening.  I’ve always wanted children.  My whole life.  Maybe it’s the family pressure (I am the Pitch family’s only living heir), but it was something else, something internal.  But I never believed it was possible.  Wellbelove is right, I can’t have any of my own (being a vampire and all), and even if I could, the whole gay thing made the thought of children even more hopeless.

           I suppose I should be feeling worse for Wellbelove and her difficult situation, but she actually looks happy and relieved now that Simon and I agreed to take the baby off her hands, and she’s laughing with Simon and Bunce like they used to back at Watford.  It actually makes me happy to see it.  Simon doesn’t talk about Wellbelove much, but I know he misses her and worries about her (she was his friend long before she was his girlfriend).  It’s good to see them getting along again.

Bunce sends Micah grocery shopping for the party, and I leave to go hunting while he’s gone so I can give the three of them some time together to catch up.

           “Don’t eat my chickens Baz,” Bunce says.  “They’re valuable.”

           “What’s so valuable about chickens?” Wellbelove asks.  Bunce smirks.

           “They lay golden eggs.”  Wellbelove winces and Simon laughs.  It’s good to see them like this.  Really good.

           “I won’t touch your chickens Bunce,” I assure her.  “I’ll eat the cat instead.”

           “Don’t you eat my cat!” she says, but I’m already out the door.

PENELOPE

           I’m laughing so hard I can barely talk.

           “So then,” I say, continuing my story, “Simon waltzes right up to the dryad and says, ‘either you tell us where the hare is, or I’ll burn this forest down.’  And then the dryad goes, ‘I’d like to see you try,’ and punches him in the face.”  Micah howls with laughter and rolls on the floor like an idiot.  Agatha can’t stop giggling.  Baz bursts out laughing and puts his arm around a red faced Simon.

           “You never told me you got beat up by a dryad,” Baz teases, giving Simon a little shake.  “I even asked you where you got that black eye since you didn’t get it from me.”

           “Why would I tell you that!?” Simon says, throwing his hands in the air.  “You just would have made fun of me.”  Baz grins.

           “You’re right, I would have.  And I’m still going to.  I’m not going to let you live that one down.”  Simon groans, and we all laugh again.

           “In Simon’s defense,” Agatha says, wiping tears from her eyes, “she was a particularly large dryad.”

           “How does that make it better?” Simon wails, but we're all too busy laughing to listen to him.

           “Can we do something other than tell embarrassing stories about me?” Simon begs.  “There have to better things to talk about.”

           “Nope,” I say.  “I can’t think of anything.” 

           “We could tell embarrassing stories about Baz,” Simon says desperately.

           “No we can’t,” Baz replies.  “I don’t have any embarrassing stories.”  Everyone laughs again, including Simon.

           I’m not sure why we’re reminiscing about Watford.  It’s not like Simon, Baz, and I talk about it all the time.  We don’t avoid the subject, (Simon and I are long past that), but it’s just not a regular conversation topic (unless we’re helping Simon brainstorm for his next book).  But the addition of Agatha spurred us into storytelling, which devolved rather quickly into Simon bashing.  I mean, there are plenty of amazing stories I could tell about Simon, about his heroism and bravery and unearthly feats of magic, but embarrassing stories are more fun, and right now that’s exactly what I want.  I want Agatha to have fun.  She’s here.  Against all odds, sitting in my living room with me and Simon (and Micah and Baz), enjoying herself.  It’s been too long.  Way too long.  Whatever rift this is that has opened up between us all, I want to use this rare chance to try and fix it.  And humor seems like the best way to do that.  Even if it means embarrassing the hell out of Simon.

           “Oh,” Baz exclaims.  “What about that time in Magic Words class?  With the skunk?”  Simon groans but Agatha laughs.  I grin.  This is perfect.  This is exactly what I want.

           “So,” I begin.  “It all started when Gareth asked us to do him a favor…”

SIMON

           The party lasts late into the night, and by the time I climb into bed I’m so emotionally drained I can’t keep my eyes open.  Baz pulls me close and won’t let go of me all night.  I lean into him.  I’m always hot and he’s always cold, and it’s relaxing and comforting to have him there.  I know he’s grateful that I agreed to take the baby, but I don’t think he needs to be.  I think I just needed some time to process the idea.  Now that I’ve spent all night thinking about it, (when I wasn’t being ruthlessly ripped apart by my dearest friends), I think I’m just as excited as he is.

           The next morning, Baz and Penny kick Agatha and me out of the house.

           “Go for a walk,” Penny insists.  “Spend some time together.  It’s been ages.”  I look over at Baz to make sure he’s ok with this.  He shrugs and reaches into the fridge to grab the orange juice.

           “Just don’t cheat on me,” he says, but I can tell he wants me to go.  Now it’s my turn to be grateful to him.  I do want to spend some time with Agatha.  To see if we can salvage any of our friendship.

           We walk along the corn field.  It’s springtime, so the cornstalks aren’t too tall yet, and we can see for miles.  The Midwest is unnaturally flat.

           Neither of us say anything for a while, and it’s awkward.  I’ve never been particularly good at this, and Agatha’s just not that much of a talker.  I look over at her.  She’s beautiful.  She’s always beautiful.  And for just a fraction of a second, I wonder what my life would be like if I had stayed with her (or I guess if she had stayed with me).  That could be my baby in her belly.  We’d probably be living in the English countryside, somewhere with lots of room to ride.  No.  That’s what I used to think.  That’s not who she is anymore.  Now she lives in California with Normals and has left the World of Mages.  Just because I don’t have any magic anymore doesn’t mean I want to leave the World.  Living with Baz means magic is still a part of my daily life.

           Baz.

           I love Baz.  I love everything about Baz.  I love Baz more completely and with more passion than I ever loved Agatha.  Even if he lost his magic, or decided to leave the World of Mages (he wouldn’t, but if he did), I would go with him in a heartbeat.  I don’t regret for one second choosing him over Agatha.  I never have, but I’m acutely aware of it now, standing next to Agatha, watching the sun catch on her perfect hair.

           “So,” I say, deciding it’s time we end this silence and actually have a conversation.  “Tell me about California.”

AGATHA

           It is good to see him.  It’s always good to see him.  It’d be a lie if I said I didn’t think about him, or if I said I didn’t miss him.  I do.  Penny keeps me updated on all the important things, but I miss the little things.  The way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs.  The way he bumbles through a sentence when he gets flustered.  The way all his emotions show so clearly on his face.

           I look over at him now, and he looks a little uncomfortable, but happy.  Really happy.  And I wonder, just for a moment, what my life would have been like if I had stayed with him.  If I had married him.  Maybe Simon would have come to California with me.  Penny said he was so broken up about losing the Mage that it took him half a year to get over it.  I think I could have persuaded him to get the fuck out of there.  We could have left the World of Mages together, seeing as he has no magic anymore (although Penny says he has wings.  And a tail.  If he does, Baz must be a wizard with invisibility spells, because I can’t see them.  But I guess he’d have to be.)  Simon would like California.  It’s calm and peaceful, with plenty of good food.  That’s what he always said he wanted.

           But Simon would be too much of a reminder, too close to the World I so desperately needed to get away from.  We would talk about Watford, how could we not?  We have too much shared history there.  Last night was the most I’ve thought about Watford since I left.  It was fun and all, (I don’t hate everything about my childhood), but I couldn’t do it every day.  And Penny would play a more active role in my life, because she and Simon are still attached at the hip even though they’re both married and have an ocean between them.  And Baz…well, actually, I guess there would be no Baz.  He and Simon wouldn’t have started dating if we’d never broken up.  It’s ironic really, that I broke up with Simon for Baz (I didn’t exactly, I mean, I wanted to break up with Simon anyway, but thinking about Baz made it easier for me to stomach,) and Simon ended up with him instead.  (I still can’t wrap my head around that one, even after all these years.)  What a fine mess that turned out to be.  But Simon and Baz look so happy together, happier than Simon and I ever were.  It was so obvious during the party last night, how close they are and how much they care about each other.  It was mildly disturbing, but also kind of sweet.  I’m glad Simon’s happy.  I really, truly am.  And I don’t think he’d be as happy if he had ended up with me.  I don’t regret leaving him.  I didn’t want to marry him.  But I can’t help but wonder about it.  He’s still someone I think about, even after all these years.

           He was the first one I thought of to turn to for help.  When I felt magic inside me that wasn’t my own, I panicked.  I mean, I was already panicking.  If I had a baby, a Normal, illegitimate baby, my parents would disown me.  (They’re going to disown me someday, when they find out I’ve left the World of Mages, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to them just yet.)  But a Magickal illegitimate baby, with Normal father; I can’t…I mean, I just can’t.  I can’t have a baby with magic. 

           I thought of Simon in that moment.  No matter what was wrong, or what kind of trouble I was in, I always asked Simon for help and he always delivered.  It was the first time I had thought of him that way in years, but I felt a sudden need to see him and have him fix this.

           And then I thought of Simon in a different light.  Simon, who lost his magic.  Simon, who’s dating Baz.  And I called Penny.  I told her I needed to talk to Simon (I don’t have his mobile number, he didn’t have one at Watford), and she asked me why (obviously), and I told her I didn’t want to tell her.  And she said that was bullocks and insisted that I come see her this instant, or she was going to come to me (she doesn’t know my address, but I have no doubt that she could find me anyway.)  I really didn’t want her coming to find me in California (what would my Normal flatmates say if Penelope Bunce showed up?) so I told her I’d come to her.  And three days later I was sitting in her kitchen asking Simon and Baz to adopt my baby.

           It’s all been so surreal. 

           But I’m grateful to Simon.  Really grateful.  Even after all we’ve been through, he still dropped everything to come and see me, just because I asked him too.  He didn’t even question it.  All these years of radio silence and he’s still there for me when I need him.  And he’s taking the baby.  I can never thank him enough for that.

           Simon finally breaks the silence and asks me about California.  So I tell him.  I tell him about the beach, and the sun, and the breeze.  I tell him about my job, (I’m an associate manager at a Mexican restaurant) and my new hobby (I’m an amateur photographer.)  I tell him about my flatmates, Mary and Charlotte, and our very girly, very Normal existence.  And he tells me about England, about his job as an author and his life with Baz.

           He looks happy.  Really happy.  And I’m happy for him.

SIMON

           The day goes by quickly.  Too quickly.  I don’t want to leave.  I miss having Penny around like a hole in my heart, and I don’t know whether or not Agatha is going to disappear again after the adoption.  But Agatha and Baz both have to get back to work, and Michelle sent me a severely passive aggressive email reminding me that we have a deadline and where the hell are my comments on her sketches.  (She was so much easier to work with before Baz and Penny scared the living daylight out of her.)

           So the next morning we pack our bags and head back to London.

           “We’ll see you in a few weeks,” I say as we head out.  We’ve decided to all reconvene at Penny’s for Agatha’s last two weeks of pregnancy.  We offered to meet Agatha in California, but she refused.

           “You are not coming to visit me in California,” she said adamantly.  “I’m not letting you lot meet my Normal flatmates.  I don’t want to have to explain you all.”

           “We’re not that bad,” I argued, but Agatha just raised her eyebrow.

           “Simon, you have a tail, Baz is a vampire, and Penny is…well, Penny.  You’re not coming.”  I thought about pointing out the fact that she hadn’t actually seen my tail, and that Baz works with Normals every day without arousing suspicion, but I held my tongue.  I didn’t want to say anything to upset her.

           Penny sends us off with a nonchalant wave of her hand (she still hates goodbyes), and Micah takes us to the airport.

           The trip back to England is much more pleasant than the one to America.  Baz and I spend the entire time discussing the baby and making plans.

           “We can turn Penny’s room into a nursery,” I say.  (We still call the second bedroom in our flat ‘Penny’s room’ even though she moved out a year ago.  Old habits die hard.)

           “Maybe we should move,” Baz says thoughtfully.  “We could get a flat with a bit more space.  Or we could finally move to the countryside.”

           “Do you want to move to the countryside?” I ask.  I know he does.  I know he really wants to be somewhere where it’s easier for him to hunt.  But I also know how much he loves London.  I’ll move with him if he wants to.  I’d go anywhere with him.  But I don’t actually think he wants to leave.  “Think of your commute.  You’re not going to want to increase your commute time right after the baby comes.”  He grins.

           “Yeah, that’s true.  I’m not sure if I trust you alone with the baby.”

           “Baz!”  He laughs and takes my hand.

           “I can’t believe this is happening,” he says, leaning on my shoulder and giving my hand a squeeze.  I squeeze back and rest my head against his.

           “Me neither.”

           The next few weeks are a flurry of activity.  Baz buys a dozen baby books and buries himself in them every night.  We decide to officially make Penny’s room a nursery, so we paint it green. (Baz wanted it red, like his childhood bedroom, but I put my foot down.  Red!  It’s too much of a vampire stereotype for me to deal with.)  We go shopping.  I never knew how much stuff babies needed.  Clothes, toys, crib, stroller, car seat, high chair, formula, diapers.  The list goes on and on and on.

           “Where are going to put all this stuff?” I ask as I drop another armload of bags on the table.

           “I told you we should have moved,” Baz says, shifting a box that’s twice his size so he can get into the kitchen.

           “We didn’t have time!  We barely have time to do all this shopping.”  Baz grins.  He’s been doing that almost constantly lately.

           “We’ll manage,” he says.  His smile is contagious.  I love how excited Baz has been.  I love how excited I’ve been.  I know I should probably be at least a little nervous, but every time I start to worry, Baz says or does something that makes me happy all over again.  I go over to him and give him a kiss.

           “What was that for?” he asks, but he’s already sliding his hands around my waist.  I shrug and put my arms around his neck.

           “For being you.  Do I need a reason?”  Baz smirks.

           “Never,” he replies as he leans in to kiss me.

BAZ

           Simon and I go out for a nice dinner.  We do this sometimes, when we have something to celebrate.  Usually it’s because Simon released another book, or because the term ended.  But everything about these last few weeks have felt celebratory, and seeing as it’s our last night alone in London (we leave for Chicago tomorrow), we thought we’d take advantage of the opportunity.

           We go to a French restaurant that we like because it has private rooms.  I still don’t like eating in front of people, (Simon is an exception) and his table manners are still atrocious. (I’ve tried.  I’ve really tried.)

           I pour us some wine and raise my glass.

           “To our future,” I say.

           “To our future,” Simon agrees.  We clink our glasses and drink.  It’s good wine.  I went all out tonight.

           “So, have you told your family yet?” Simon asks.  He’s asked me that a lot lately.

           “No.”

           “Why not?”  I smirk.

           “Because I want it to be a surprise.”  Simon rolls his eyes.

           “That’s some surprise Baz.  Almost worse than bringing me home.”

           “Nothing could be worse than bringing you home,” I say.  It’s true.  The first time I actually brought him home with me, as my boyfriend, my father nearly had a heart attack.  He wouldn’t speak to me for months.  “And anyway, this will be a good surprise.  If I tell them about it in advance, they flat out won’t believe me.  Magicians don’t adopt Normal babies, and there just aren’t any magickal babies to adopt.  This situation doesn’t happen.”

           “It’s happening to us,” Simon says.  I grin.

           “I know.  That’s why we’re so lucky.”  Simon gives me a wide smile and I want to kiss him right there in the restaurant.  I’ve wanted to kiss him all the time lately.  Apparently unbridled happiness does that to me.  Apparently it does it to Simon too because he’s giving me these tantalizing eyes like he knows exactly what I’m thinking and wants the same thing.

           Unfortunately, the waiter comes in with our food, so snogging will have to wait.

           “So,” I say once the waiter leaves.  “We should probably actually discuss a name.”  We’ve been discussing names constantly, but it’s mostly been a joke.  My favorites are Trixie (to piss Bunce off), Gampire (same conversation), Bartholomew (because why not?), and Princess (Princess Pitch.  I almost like the sound of that.)  But we haven’t seriously discussed a name.  Joking around was just too much fun.

           Simon smirks.

           “What’s wrong with Strawberry?” he asks.  Oh yeah.  I forgot about Strawberry.  I laugh.

           “I’m serious Snow.  We need a name.  We can’t just stand there like fools when the doctor asks us.”  Simon sighs and gives me a gentle smile.

           “I thought the name was obvious.  I thought that’s why we were joking around so much.”  I raise an eyebrow.

           “Obvious?  What’s obvious?”  Simon smiles again.

           “Natasha.  Obviously.”  I gape at him.  I had thought about naming the baby after my mother.  I want to.  But I had been reluctant about asking Simon for something so selfish.  I was going to suggest it tonight and see how he reacted, but if he thinks it’s obvious…  I’m so touched, I can feel tears in my eyes.

           “Simon,” I start to say, but he interrupts me before I can finish.

           “Natasha Ebeneza Snow-Grimm-Pitch.”  I raise an eyebrow and he flashes me a toothy grin.  Like he’s proud of himself.  Like he knows he’s messing with me and doesn’t care.

           “I thought we were being serious here,” I say.

           “I am being serious,” Simon says.  “What’s wrong with it?”

           “First of all, we are not shackling her with a last name like Snow-Grimm-Pitch.  Having two last names is bad enough.  No one needs a third.  And second of all, Ebeneza?  Seriously?”

           “What’s wrong with Ebeneza?” Simon asks.  His face falls and he sounds hurt.  Like, actually hurt.

           “Am I missing something?” I ask.  I never meant to hurt him.  I thought it was another joke, like Strawberry or Draculetta (also on the list at some point).  Simon looks down at his food.

           “It was Ebb’s full name.”  I gasp.  Ebb.  Ebb the goatherd.  Ebb who watched over Simon like a mother.  Ebb who died so Agatha could live.  Ebb who’s just as important to Simon as my mother is to me.  I feel like a fool.

           “Simon, I’m so sorry,” I say.  “I didn’t realize that.  Ebeneza sounds perfect.”  I reach my hand out and he takes it.  I squeeze it and he smiles at me. 

           “Thanks Baz,” he says.

           “Thank you for Natasha,” I say, and I mean it.  “But we have to talk about that Snow-Grimm-Pitch thing.  That’s just cruel.”

SIMON

           We snog in the car.  We snog in the stairwell (we haven’t done stuff like this since college).  We can’t wait to reach the bedroom and make love on the floor of the living room (that still happens sometimes).  Then we do reach the bedroom and make love again.

           Baz’s head is resting on my chest and I pull him close.  I’m sweating.  He’s not (lucky vampire) and his cool skin feels glorious.  It’s like having my own personal air conditioner.

           “What is it about having a baby that makes us so horny?” I ask.  Baz laughs into my chest.

           “I don’t know, but I’m not complaining.”  I run my hand through his hair and smirk.

           “Me neither.” 

           “We’re not going to get to do this for a while,” Baz says.  “We might as well enjoy it.”

           “Do what?  Have sex?”  Baz rolls his eyes.

           “Of course not.  I mean, be alone.  Like this.  There’s always going to be someone else here from now on.”

           “So no more groping each other on the couch?”  Baz chuckles. 

           “Something like that.”

           “Well, we’ll just have to do it twice as much in here to make up for it.”  Baz laughs again.  I continue playing with his hair and we enjoy the silence and the companionship for a while.

           “Baz,” I say.

           “Hmmm?” he mumbles.  He’s clearly falling asleep.

           “I love you.”  We don’t say that very often.  We both know it to be true, so why bother?  But it feels right, in this moment, and I want Baz to hear it.  I can feel Baz smile against my skin.

           “I love you too Simon,” he says.  “More than you know.”

BAZ

           I’m giving a lecture.  It’s the last class of the year for my Understanding Chomsky course and it’s taking every ounce of concentration I have to focus on it.  Simon and I are leaving for the airport right after I’m done with this (I asked someone else to proctor my final exam), and it’s all I can think about.

           Wellbelove is due in two weeks, and Simon and I want to make sure we’re there for the delivery.  We really wanted to leave sooner, but I couldn’t get out of my last few lectures.  We talked to Bunce yesterday, and Wellbelove is all settled in on her farm, aching and tired and ready to pop.

           I surreptitiously glance at the clock.  Twenty minutes left.

           Then Simon bursts into the room looking so flustered and agitated that I worry for a split second that he’s going to go off in my classroom (it’s hard to unlearn ingrained survival instincts, even after years of disuse).

           “Would you all excuse me for a moment?” I say to my class.  I go over to Simon, take him by the shoulder, and pull him into the corner, turning my back to the students so they can’t see our conversation (even though I know they’re all straining their ears as hard as they can to listen).

           “What?” I ask.  Short and to the point seems appropriate when I have fifty pairs of curious eyes boring into me.  Thankfully, Simon agrees.

           “Agatha’s in labor.”  I freeze.  No!  She can’t be!  She couldn’t wait twelve hours?  It had to be now?  I know there’s a spell for that (I know Bunce knows there’s a spell for that).  Patience child is extremely effective in situations like this, but Wellbelove probably refused to let Bunce use it.  I look at my watch.  Eighteen minutes left.  I can do this.

           “Wait for me in the hall,” I tell Simon, and he nods.  I turn back to my class.  Crowley this is going to be hard.  I square my shoulders and don my most professional demeanor.

           “As I was saying…” I begin, but a punk kid in the last row raises his hand.

           “Yes,” I call on him.

           “Professor Grimm-Pitch,” he says with a smarmy smirk.  “Who’s Agatha?”  An excited giggle ripples through the classroom and I suppress a growl with great difficulty.

           “As I was saying…” I repeat, ignoring the question, but a girl in the second row interrupts me.

           “Is she your girlfriend?” she asks.  I don’t wear a wedding ring (Simon and I aren’t actually married).  Did she notice that?  College girls are scary.

           “As I was saying…” I say again, but nobody’s listening to me at this point.

           “Maybe you should leave,” another boy says.  “If my girlfriend was in labor, I’d leave.”  Excited murmurs and giggles break out.

           Deep breaths Pitch, I say to myself.  You’ve faced vampires and chimeras and basilisks, surely you can handle a room full of bratty teenagers.  I look at the clock.  Fifteen minutes left.

           “Silence,” I bellow with authority.  I even put magic in it, but I’m not holding my wand so it doesn’t go anywhere.  It’s still effective though.

           “My personal life is not a topic on your final exam.  But if you would like for me to skip the remainder of my review to attend to it, I would be more than willing to do so.”  No one reacts.  Good.  “Now, as I was saying…”

SIMON

           Baz casts Are we there yet? on the plane.  It’s a tricky spell, (if you say it too fast it will actually slow you down) but it can be extremely effective and Baz’s elocution is always perfect.  It works best when the castor is antsy and impatient, and Baz and I are certainly that.  It takes a lot out of him (it’s designed for much smaller modes of transportation like cars), and I’m worried that he’s going to pass out, but Baz doesn’t seem concerned about it.

           I know I should be nervous, and I am, but I’m also excited.  And anxious and eager and a little nauseous.  It feels like my train rides back to Watford times a hundred.  I feel like if I start talking I’ll never stop, so I just hold Baz’s hand and pray for his spell to work.

           I call Penny the second the plane lands, but she doesn’t answer.

           “Crowley Bunce, answer your phone,” Baz says, but I forgive his irritability given the situation.

           We meet Micah at baggage claim.

           “Heya guys,” he says cheerfully.  “Long time no see.”

           “How’s Agatha?” Baz and I ask at the same time (Baz says Wellbelove).  Micah shrugs.

           “Still screaming bloody murder when I left.  Penny’s with her.  She’ll be fine.  She wouldn’t let us cast any spells though.”  Baz swears under his breath and I squeeze his hand.  Micah and Baz both spell the car and we practically fly through the city.  It takes us half the time to get to get down south as it did the last time.

           We burst into the hospital like a whirlwind and Micah leads us to Agatha’s room.  Baz and I nearly break down the door.  I get a brief glimpse of Agatha, flushed and sweating and clearly in pain (and amazingly, still beautiful), before Penny shouts “Get out and stay out,” and spells us out of the room.

           She follows us into the hall and puts her hands on her hips, looking more like her mother than ever.  Her hair is a mess, her shirt is askew, and she’s also sweating like crazy.

           “Just what in the name of magic do you lot think you’re doing?” she scolds.

           “I’m worried about Agatha,” I reply.  I am.  I’ve been worried about her the whole time, ever since Penny called me.  Penny actually gives me a sympathetic look.

           “I know you are Simon,” she says.  “Agatha’s fine, everything’s going well, but she’s having a baby, and I guarantee she doesn’t want you in there watching her.  Wait out here.  I’ll let you know if anything important happens.”  And with that she turns on her heel and marches back into the room, slamming the door in our faces.

           I look at Baz and he’s so stressed I think his fangs are out, but I trust Penny.  I take his hand and guide him to the bench across the hall.  He doesn’t say anything (I think he’s afraid of showing his fangs off in the hospital), but he lets me sit him down and squeeze his hand.  I hear Agatha scream and I feel a sudden urge to rush to her side again.  It takes every ounce of willpower I have to fight that instinct.  This time, Baz squeezes my hand and keeps me grounded, reminding me to stay still.

           After about an hour Micah leaves and returns with sandwiches, but neither Baz nor I are hungry (it’s a first for me).  I’ve never felt more on edge, sitting there, helpless, as Agatha screams again and again.

           The nurses keep coming in and out of the room to check on Agatha, and we pester them every time they leave, but all they can tell us is that Agatha is doing well and that we must be patient.  That’s difficult when I keep wanting to reach for my sword (even though it won’t come if I call it, seeing as I have no magic), and Baz keeps wanting to reach for his wand (even though we both know Agatha would kill him if he cast a spell on her), but we steady each other and wait.

           At some point a woman with a pointed nose, fitted grey suit, and a clipboard approaches us.

           “Which of you are Simon and Tyrannous?” she asks.  Baz and I look at each other.

           “We are,” I say, indicating Baz.  The woman looks at us and smiles, then holds out her hand.  We each shake it.

           “My name is Samantha Wang and I’m from Happy Family Adoption Services,” she says.  “Agatha Wellbelove contacted us several weeks ago to arrange for your adoption of her child.”  Baz stands up straighter.

“Is Agatha in there?” she asks, indicating the door.  Agatha answers that question for us by letting out a piercing scream.  I wince but Samantha Wang nods.

           “Lovely,” she says.  “As soon as the baby’s born, I’ll have all the paperwork ready for you.  I’ll be in the lounge if you need anything in the meantime.”  And with that she heads down the hall as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

           I look at Baz.  I’m still crazy worried about Agatha, but suddenly I remember that at the end of this, Baz and I are going to be parents.  Some of the excitement of the last few months creeps back up and I give Baz an awkward grin.  He returns it.

           Suddenly, there’s a flurry of activity as a doctor and two nurses race into Agatha’s room.

           “What’s wrong?” I try to ask one of them.  “Is everything ok?”  But none of them seem to want to answer me.  Baz growls.  He looks like he wants to rush into the room, and only Penny’s spell is keeping him out.  It feels like it’s the only think keeping me out.  We hear a jumble of words, Agatha screaming, and the electric beeping of hospital equipment.  The wait is agonizing.  And then we hear a new sound.  A baby crying.

           Agatha’s baby.

           Our baby.

           Micah passes out.

BAZ

           I want to break down the door, but Bunce’s spell is still keeping me out (what a wicked magician that girl is).  After what seems like centuries but is probably only a minute or two, Bunce pokes her head out.  She flashes us an enormous grin and says,

           “She’s perfect.  Agatha’s fine.  Come on in and meet your daughter.”  My daughter.  Those words don’t sound real.  Simon and I race into the room, and a nurse hands me a tiny bundle of blankets.

           There she is.  My daughter.  Her face is red and puffy and her hands are curled up into tiny balls.  She looks a bit like Agatha in the eyes and nose (thank Crowley for that, my daughter will be a beauty), but she has a hint of dark brown curls and a flattened chin that must have come from her father.  I can feel her magic, (it tickles like goose down and smells like vanilla), and I know she’s just as powerful as I thought.  I feel my eyes well up with tears and I pass her to Simon before I make a complete spectacle of myself.  But Simon doesn’t look much better than me.  His tears are already streaming down his face and he has this soft, loving look in his eyes that makes my heart melt.

           “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” Bunce says.  I wipe my eyes and nod.  I don’t trust myself to speak just yet.

           “She’s perfect,” Simon says.  “Agatha, she’s perfect.”  I look over at Wellbelove.  She looks like she was run over by a truck, but she also looks relieved and she’s smiling at Simon.

           “Do you want to hold her?” Simon offers her, but Wellbelove shakes her head.

           “No, I don’t want to bond with her.  She’s your daughter now, not mine.  I don’t want to have any second thoughts.”  Simon’s face falls for a minute, but he nods his understanding.

           “Thank you Agatha,” he says, and his voice is so full of affection I almost (almost) feel jealous.  “Thank you.”  Wellbelove blushes.

           “Don’t thank me for this Simon,” she says.  “It sounds weird.”

           “I want to hold her!” Bunce says, bounding over to Simon.  Bunce doesn’t look much better than Wellbelove.  She’s pale and drawn and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she’s grinning like a maniac and has significantly more energy (which I suppose is to be expected).  Simon passes her the baby.

           “Simon, are you sure you’re not the father?” Bunce says.  “She kind of looks like you.”  I find my voice in the face of Bunce’s teasing.

           “Don’t even joke about that Bunce,” I say, but I’m grinning from ear to ear.  Bunce returns my smile.

           “Congratulations you two,” she says sincerely.  Simon beams at her.

           The doctor finishes examining Agatha and approaches us.

           “I take it you two are the adoptive fathers?” he says.  Simon and I nod.  “Congratulations.  You have a healthy baby girl.”  My chest swells with pride.

           “I just need a name for the birth certificate,” he says.  I look at Simon.  He gives me a warm smile and nods.

           “Natasha,” I say.  “Natasha Ebeneza Snow-Pitch.”  Both girls gasp.  The doctor writes the name down, checks the spelling with me, then leaves us alone, stepping over an unconscious Micah on the way out.  (Bunce rolls her eyes at him, then ignores him completely.)

           “Natasha Ebeneza,” Bunce says, looking at the child in her arms.  “Your mother would be proud Baz.”  I don’t know how to respond to that without sounding like an idiot, so I reach my arms out instead.

           “Just let me hold her,” I say.  “She’s going to think you’re her mother.”  Bunce rolls her eyes, but she smiles and hands me Natasha.  I look down at her.  Natasha Ebeneza.  Our daughter.  Simon puts his arm around me, and the two of us stand in silence for a while, absorbing the moment.  It’s better than I could have imagined.

           “We have a daughter Baz,” Simon says.  “I still can’t believe it.”

           “Me neither.”  He looks at me and there’s delight and wonder in his eyes and I love him so much right then.  I’m so happy that I feel like I might burst.  He leans over and kisses me, and even Bunce doesn’t stop us.

SIMON

           The next few hours are a flurry of paperwork.  Samantha Wang gives Baz and me a pile of forms.  Agatha has to sign them too, but I insist that we let her get some sleep first.  Samantha looks mildly put out by that (it is the middle of the night), but she acquiesces eventually.

           “We’ll have to go to the British Consulate and get her registered as an English citizen,” I tell Baz as we work through the stack in front of us.  “Since she was born on US soil.”  Baz gapes at me like he’s never seen me before.

           “What?” I say with a shrug.  “I’m an orphan, remember?  I know everything there is to know about adoption.  It’s basically all I talked about as a kid.”

           “I guess,” Baz says.  “I’m just trying to remember if I’ve ever heard you say something so intelligent.”

           “Baz!” I whine, elbowing him in the arm.  He laughs.

           Micah wakes up and Penny berates him ruthlessly for being so useless and pathetic.  (I love Penny.  I really, really do.  But Crowley am I glad I’m not married to her.)

           Eventually Agatha wakes up too, she signs Samantha’s forms, and Natasha is officially our daughter.  Micah breaks out a bottle of champagne that he was hiding who knows where (I think he shrunk it to fit in his pocket even though you’re not supposed to do that with bottles of liquid since the pressure can make them burst), and we all toast to the newest member of our family.

           “To Natasha,” Micah says.

           “To Natasha,” we all agree.

           “So,” Bunce says.  “Snow-Pitch huh?  How’s your father going to feel about that one Baz?”  Baz shrugs.

           “He has four other children named Grimm.  Snow-Grimm-Pitch was just too long to subject any child to.  And besides, he’ll be so happy to have a granddaughter, I don’t think he’ll mind very much.”

           We pass around champagne.  We pass around Natasha (even Agatha holds her for a bit).  We laugh and joke and it feels so wonderful that I can’t remember ever being this happy.

           Eventually though, the nurse comes in to remind us that this is a hospital and can we please keep it down.  Then we realize how exhausted we are and we all fall asleep in Agatha’s room, leaning against each other in our cheap plastic hospital chairs.

           The doctor comes in to examine Agatha and Natasha and declares them both fit to leave.  We go back to Penny’s and have another party (punctuated by multiple feedings and diaper changes).  I know how to change a diaper.  I often had to help out with the babies in the children’s homes, all the older kids did.  But Baz, despite having four younger siblings, has never changed one.

           “So you put this here?” he asks, sliding the diaper around like it’s a particularly fragile and slippery fish.  I laugh.

           “No, it goes here.”  I show him.  I laugh again because I’ve never seen him look so flustered.  But he figures it out.  Quickly.  Of course he does.

           “Isn’t there a spell for this?” Penny asks as she watches the spectacle.

           “No,” Baz replies.  “I’ve checked.  Over and over.”

           “You’d think there would be,” Penny says thoughtfully.  “Like, time for a change or who’s got a poopy diaper or something.”  She eyes Natasha hungrily and both Baz and I move to block her.

           “You’re not experimenting on my daughter Bunce,” Baz says firmly and I nod fervently in agreement.  There are some things I don’t trust even Penny to do.  Penny sighs.

           “Maybe this is why no one has developed a spell,” she says.

           “There doesn’t need to be a spell,” Agatha says, clearly exasperated.  “Just change the stupid diaper.  They say it’s a bonding experience.”

           “Then you do it,” Penny says.

           “I’m not supposed to bond with her Penny.  Remember?  Besides, I don’t see you volunteering to do it.”

           “I’m letting the fathers have the first crack at it,” Penny replies.

           “How generous of you,” Baz says, but I can tell he’s suppressing a grin with enormous difficulty.

           There are many more volunteers when it comes to feeding.  Again, I’m the only one who knows how, but Baz, Penny, and Micah all want to learn.  They crowd around me and watch as I support Natasha’s head and angle the bottle correctly, then they all want to try.  Everyone except Agatha.  She’s just sitting on the couch, staring out the window.  Baz has Natasha safely tucked away in his arms, and is busy fending off an over-eager Penny and Micah, so I slip away to sit next to her.

           “Hey,” I say.

           “Hey,” Agatha replies.

           “How are you feeling?”

           “Sore.  And tired.”

           “Are you up for a walk?”  Agatha gives me pained look.

           “Simon, I don’t really think…” but I don’t wait for her to finish.  I stand and hold out my hand.

           “Come on,” I say.  “We won’t go far.”  Agatha looks like she’s fighting with herself, but she sighs and takes my hand.

           Everyone’s busy fussing over Natasha, so no one notices when we head out.  Agatha really doesn’t have it in her to walk too much, but I just wanted to get her alone.  It’s a beautiful day, so we sit in the yard and watch the chickens mull around.

           “Are you ok?” I ask.

           “I’m fine Simon,” she says.  “I’m just exhausted.  I just had a baby.”

           “I know.  And I’m really glad you’re ok, but I’m not asking about that.  Are you ok with all this?  With giving us Natasha.”  Agatha sighs.

           “Why are you asking me this Simon?  She’s already yours.  The forms are signed and everything.”

           “Forms are just paper.  They can be changed if you want them to be.”

           “Simon, are you having second thoughts?”

           “Of course not!  I just want to make sure you’re not.  She is your baby.”  Agatha sighs again and stares out into the distance.

           “I’m not,” she says.  “I’m really not.  I made up my mind a long time ago, even before I knew she had magic.  It’s just…I never realized how hard it would be.”  She bites her lip.

           “Simon,” she says, looking down at her hands.  “Can I cry?”

           “Of course,” I say.  It really seems like she was waiting for permission because tears instantly begin streaming down her face.  I put my arms around her and pull her close, and she sobs into my shoulder.

           We stay like that until Agatha stops crying.  It takes a while, but eventually she pulls away from me and wipes her eyes.

           “Thanks Simon,” she says.  “I think I needed that.”

           “No problem.  I could tell.”  She looks away from me, but she smiles faintly.

           “You always could.  You always knew.  And you were always there for me.”  I shake my head.

           “No I wasn’t.  I had no idea how miserable you were our eighth year.  And when I did realize it, I didn’t do anything about it.”

           “That’s because Baz was missing and you were going crazy.  You were probably already in love with him by then.”  I’m not sure when exactly I fell in love with Baz.  I’ve thought about it, but I really don’t know.  The realization sort of hit me like a brick wall and I acted instantly (or maybe I acted first, then realized it; it all happened too quickly for me to process), but I must have loved him before then.  But I don’t think I loved him when I was dating Agatha.  I think I was only obsessed with him at that point (not that those two things are that far apart, but still…)

           “Maybe,” I say.  “But I don’t think so.  I think I was just a shitty boyfriend.”  Agatha actually laughs.

           “Yeah, you kind of were.  But I did love you Simon.  As a friend, always.  I still do.  You know that right?”  I nod.

           “I love you too Agatha.  I miss you.”  She sighs.

           “I miss you too Simon.  But I can’t let you back into my life.  I don’t want updates on Natasha.  I don’t want you to send me pictures, or tell me how she’s doing.  Penny will be bad enough at that.  I can’t get it from you too.”  That hurts.  I was hoping that Agatha might be around again.  She would still live in California, but maybe we could talk every once in a while.  Even after all this time, she’s still one of the people I care most about.  But I understand.  I can’t even begin to imagine what she must be going through right now.  But I also don’t want to let her go completely.

           “What about once a year?” I suggest.  “Why don’t we talk once a year?  On Christmas or something.  Just to say hi.  I won’t even mention Natasha unless you bring her up.”  Agatha thinks about that for a minute, but then she looks at me and gives me a grateful smile.

           “Yeah,” she says.  “Once a year.  I’d like that.  Thanks Simon.  For understanding.”  I return her smile.

           “I try.”

SIMON

           Agatha wants to take a nap, so we head back inside.  Penny and Micah are sitting on the couch, drinking tea.

           “Where’s Baz?” I ask.

           “In your room,” Penny says.  “Natasha seemed tired and he claimed we were being too loud.”

           “I can’t imagine why,” I say.  Penny grins.

           I head upstairs to the guest room Baz and I are using.  Baz gives me a nasty look when I open the door, but he relaxes when he sees it’s me.

           “Simon,” Baz says, keeping his voice down.  “Thank magic.  I thought it was Bunce.  How do you get her to stop talking?owHow   ”

“I don’t.”  Baz chuckles and I go over to him.  Natasha’s asleep in his arms and he’s rocking her back and forth gently.  I can’t get over how beautiful she is.

           “So how was Agatha?” Baz asks.  I shrug.

           “I told her I love her.”  Baz raises an eyebrow.

           “Did you now?”  I suppress a laugh (I don’t want to wake Natasha) and give Baz a kiss.

           “Yeah, but she rejected me,” I say.  “I think she thinks I’m too obsessed with you or something.”

           “Don’t know what gave her that idea.”  Baz smirks and I suppress another laugh.  Then I kiss Baz again.  And again.  And again.

SIMON

           We stay with Penny and Micah for six weeks.  It’s summer, so Baz has a break from teaching, and we don’t think it’s a good idea to fly with Natasha until she’s a little bit older.  It’s also nice to spend some quality time with Penny.  I haven’t spent this much time with her since she moved to America.  But most of our time is spent doting on Natasha.  Baz seems physically attached to her.  He carries her around everywhere, whether she’s awake, crying, or asleep.  He gets restless whenever someone else has her, even if it’s me.  For the first few nights he gets up every time she cries, even though we had agreed in advance to alternate.  After a few nights though, I insist that he let me take a turn so he can get a little sleep.

           “I know people say vampires don’t need to sleep,” I say, “but I know better.  Go back to bed Baz.”  He’s so exhausted he doesn’t argue.  Frankly, we’re both exhausted.  I’ve never slept so little in my life.

           Agatha leaves after a week.  She says she’s fully recovered from her long labor and she needs to get back to work, but I know she just needs to get away from Natasha.  I’m sad to see her go, but I understand.

           “I’ll call you at Christmas,” I tell her as she leaves.  She nods.

           “I’ll talk to you then Simon,” she says as she gets in her car.  “Good luck with everything.”

           “You too.”

           We’re having a blast, but eventually, we decide it’s finally time to go home.  Penny still won’t come with us to the airport.

           “I’ll see you guys soon,” she says.  “You can’t keep me away from my niece.”

           “Don’t you want to come visit me?” I ask.  Penny shrugs.

           “Meh.  I guess.”

           “Penny!” I whine, and everyone laughs.  Then Penny actually gives me a hug.

           “I will come visit soon,” she whispers in my ear.  “I miss you Simon.”  I hug her back.

           “I’m holding you to that,” I say.  “I miss you too.”

BAZ

           “Welcome home Natasha,” I say as we enter our flat.  I walk everywhere with her, showing her every room.

           “She’s not going to understand what you’re doing Baz,” Simon says, dropping our suitcase by the door.

           “It’s still important.  I want her to feel comfortable here.  It’s important that we familiarize her with everything in her environment.”

           “Does that mean you’re going to let me hold her once in a while?”  Simon has been whining constantly that I’ve been hogging Natasha (because I’ve been hogging Natasha).  Very reluctantly, I pass her to him, then take our bag to our bedroom and start to unpack.  Simon comes in and sits on the bed, resting Natasha against his shoulder.

           “So,” he says.  “When are you telling your family?”

           “Relax Snow.  We’re having them over for tea tomorrow.”  Simon raises an eyebrow.

           “And when were you planning on telling me this?”  I shrug.

           “When I felt like it.”  Simon groans, but he grins at me.

           “Your dad’s going to flip out.”  I raise an eyebrow.

           “I don’t think my father has ever ‘flipped out’ about anything Snow.”  Simon laughs.

           “Yeah, but there’s a first time for everything.”  I try to picture my father’s reaction, but I honestly can’t even imagine it.

           “I guess we’ll see tomorrow, won’t we,” I say, sitting down next to Simon.  He leans against me and I put my arm around him.

           “We’re a family now Baz,” he says, as if he’s just now realizing it for the first time.  “A real family.”

           “We’ve been a family for six weeks Snow,” I say.  “And you and I were a family long before that.”

           “I know, but still, it feels different, doesn’t it?  Having her here.  In our home.”  I think about that for a moment, and realize that Simon’s right.  The three of us have been alone together, but it was in a borrowed room in a house where Bunce was liable to barge in on us at any moment, and where Wellbelove was right there on the other side of the wall.  Now that we have Natasha here, in our flat, the fact that we really have a daughter hits me all over again.  I rest my head against Simon’s.

           “You’re right Simon,” I say.  “It does feel different.”

BAZ

           The next day is a whirlwind.  We’ve been out of town for six weeks and Simon’s not particularly clean at the best of times, but I’ll be staked before I let my parents into a messy house.  Thank Crowley I have magic.  I straighten up the flat with a powerful A place for everything and everything in its place, I Spick and span the kitchen, and I even charm the vacuum cleaner with a Fantasia (a terribly tricky spell that can go disastrously wrong if you don’t comprehend the lesson of the sorcerer’s apprentice and know the entire symphonic poem by heart).  Simon keeps yelling at me to stop wasting magic (he’s afraid I’m going to pass out from exhaustion before my family gets here), but I’m not worried.  I know my limit, and besides, I’m running on too much nervous energy to pass out.

           I’m both excited and horrified about the prospect of telling my family about Natasha.  I think they’ll be happy about it (I hope they’ll be happy about it), but there’s always the chance that my father will be furious that I’m choosing to raise a child with Simon, or that I’m passing on the Pitch name to a child of unknown ancestry (Simon and I promised Wellbelove that we wouldn’t tell anyone that she was Natasha’s birth-mother).  My father’s already severely put out by the fact that Simon and I are still together.  I know he’s still hoping that one day I’ll come to my senses and find a nice girl from a good family to settle down with.  It’s the primary reason Simon and I aren’t married.  We talked about it, years ago, but I’m genuinely afraid that my father would never speak to me again if Simon and I ever took that final step, and Simon said he didn’t need to prove anything to anyone and that he didn’t need the official ceremony.  (I’m still grateful to him for that.  I’d love to actually get married, but I don’t want to lose my family over it.  And it’s not like I’ll lose Simon if we don’t.)

           The bell rings, and I buzz my family in.  We have a few minutes while they climb the four flights of stairs to our flat, so I cast Hush little baby on Natasha to calm her and keep her from crying.  I settle her down in her crib before joining Simon in the living room.

           “Are you ready?” Simon asks.

           “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply.  Simon puts his arms around my shoulders and gives me a quick kiss.

           “Everything will be ok,” he says.  “They’ll be happy about this.  I know they will be.”  It’s not like Simon to be this supportive when it comes to meeting with my father.  Usually he loses all sense of himself when he’s around him, but I’m certainly not complaining.  The proud, brave Simon Snow who can face any obstacle without hesitation is the one I fell in love with.  I want to kiss him again, but there’s a knock at the door.  I take a deep breath, reluctantly pull away from Simon, and answer it.

           My father, stepmother, and all my siblings have come.  It’s summer vacation, so Mordelia and the twins are home from Watford.  I suppose the timing is good, since I can tell them all at once, but it’s a bit crowded in our small flat.

           “Hello father, mother,” I say.  “Welcome to our home.”  My father nods at me and my stepmother kisses me on the cheek.

           “Hello Basil,” she says.  “Thank you for having us today.  It was such a pleasant surprise when you invited us.”  I smile.

           “I thought it was about time you saw where we lived.”  I know by the fact that my father hasn’t said a word to me that he did not miss my use of the words “our” and “we.”  I figured I’d lay it on thick at the beginning, so that Natasha doesn’t shock him stupid.

           “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Grimm,” Simon says.  “Welcome.”  I suppress a smile.  I guess some of my manners lectures are working.  Then he looks at the kids.

           “Hey Grimmlets,” he says.  (Simon gets along surprisingly well with my siblings.)  The girls all race to give him a hug.

           “I want a tour!” Mordelia demands, and the twins both nod fervently.  My brother just clings to my stepmother’s legs and looks around like a lost puppy.

           “Later,” I say.  I can’t let them into the nursery just yet.  And I don’t want my father to see our bed.  I don’t need to rub it in quite that thickly.  “Let’s have tea.”

           My family all finds places to sit and Simon prepares the tea while I bring out a plate of fruit and biscuits.  Once everyone’s settled, my father clears his throat.

           “So Basilton, I assume you invited us here today for a reason.”  Crowley, my father’s sharp.  I thought I got my intuition from my mother, but my father can be a viper when he wants to be.  Simon sits up straighter, but I don’t flinch.

           “I did father.  Simon and I have a surprise for you.”  I give Simon a knowing look.  He raises an eyebrow and I nod.  Then Simon gets up and goes into Penny’s (or I guess Natasha’s) room.  My father’s eyes narrow disapprovingly at our silent conversation, but they open wide in shock when Simon reappears with Natasha in his arms.  I rise and stand next to him.

           “Everyone,” I say, as clearly and with as much pride as I can muster.  “I’d like you to meet Natasha Ebeneza Snow-Pitch.  Our daughter.”  There’s stunned silence for a moment, then the room erupts.  All the kids crowd around Simon, wanting to see and touch and hold Natasha.  Simon strategically lifts her up and out of the way.  My stepmother has her hand over her mouth, and she has tears of joy in her eyes.  But I’m only interested in my father, and I hold his gaze.

           “Your daughter?” he says.

           “Yes father,” I reply.

           “Yours and Simon Snow’s.”

           “Yes.”  His eyes narrow, and it’s clear he’s contemplating something.

           “She has magic.”  It’s a statement, not a question.  Everyone in the room (except Simon) can feel it.  I nod.

           “She does father.”

           “Where did you find a child with magic?”

           “From a mage who wishes to remain anonymous.”  I decide not to mention the fact that Natasha’s birth-father is a Normal.  No one would be able to tell anyway.  She’s too powerful.  “But the adoption is legal and binding.  Natasha is our daughter.”

           “Natasha,” my father whispers, and his face softens for the first time.  “And she will be raised as a Pitch?”

           “She will father.”  Technically, she’s a Snow-Pitch, but I decide not to point that out right now.  “The house of Pitch is secure for another generation.”  And then something happens that I couldn’t have predicted in a thousand years.  My father starts to cry.  He cries with more dignity than I could have thought possible, but there is no doubt that silent tears are streaming down his cheeks.  My stepmother is openly crying at this point.

           “May I hold her?” she asks.

           “Of course,” Simon says, and passes her Natasha.  My stepmother gives her a loving smile.

           “She’s beautiful,” she says.  “I can’t believe this.  Malcom, look at her!  She’s stunning.”  I can’t help but feel proud.

           “I want to see!” Mordelia squeals, and the kids all gather en mass around my stepmother instead of Simon.  But I’m still entirely focused on my father.  As my father looks at Natasha his whole body relaxes.  His shoulders slump ever so slighter and his face looks gentle and relieved.  I’ve never seen him like this before.  Ever.  Then he looks at Simon; a long, lingering look that I can’t interpret.

           “So,” he says to me.  “When are you two getting married?”

BAZ

           I’m so stunned I can barely speak.

           “Pardon?” I ask.  I’m not sure I heard him correctly.

           “If the two of you are going to raise a child together,” my father says, “then you should be properly married.  It’s the only appropriate course of action.”  I look over at Simon and he’s as dumbfounded as I am.  My father’s eyes narrow.

           “Don’t tell me you two haven’t thought about that?” my father says.  I shake my head.

           “That’s not it father,” I say.  “I just didn’t think you would approve of such a marriage.”  My father sighs.

           “I didn’t,” he says.  “I still don’t.  Not entirely.  But a child should be raised in a stable home.  No Pitch should have un-married parents.  It’s improper.  And if Simon Snow is the one you’ve chosen to raise a child with, then I suppose I cannot argue with you anymore.  You should have the wedding as soon as possible.”  I don’t know what to say, so I just nod my head, willing myself not to cry.

           “Thank you Mr. Grimm.”  I turn my head and gape at Simon.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak to my father directly like that.  And he’s certainly never thanked him.  My father also seems to find it both surprising and distasteful, but he doesn’t say anything.

           “Thank you father,” I say with gratitude.  “Thank you.”

SIMON

           Baz and I can’t let go of each other.  We’re kissing fervently and passionately, our limbs a jumbled mess.  We haven’t slept together since Natasha was born (she’s needed too much of our attention, and it felt weird to do it at Penny’s house with its extremely thin walls and creaky beds), but tonight we can’t help ourselves.  We feel rushed, fevered, like if we don’t hold each other as tightly as we can, we might break.  We pounced on each other the second Baz’s family left, so we haven’t even had a chance to discuss everything that happened, but right now, this feels more important.

           We lay in bed, panting, our arms still around each other, our foreheads pressed together.

           “I thought we said we weren’t going to grope each other on the couch anymore,” I say.

           “Technically, the groping happened in here.”

           “Where are your pants Baz?”

           “On the couch.”

           “Exactly.”  We laugh and I pull him closer.  He closes his eyes.

           “I still can’t believe it,” he says.  “We’re getting married.”  I grin.

           “Aren’t you supposed to defend my honor in a duel or something before we can get married?  Isn’t that a Pitch thing?”  Baz chuckles and opens his eyes.

           “It is, but as my father wants us to get married in a hurry, I think we should take him up on that before he changes his mind.”  Marriage.  Baz and I are going to get married.  Like, actually married.  Marriage was another one of those things I gave up on when I chose Baz.  Baz was so worried about what his family would say if we got officially married that I told him years ago that we didn’t need to do it.  We love each other and are going to stay together forever, so what does one little ceremony matter?  It’s not like I think it will change anything.  I had basically forgotten about the fact that Baz and I aren’t married.  But still, the idea of having a wedding is exciting, and I know Baz wants one.

           “We should do it before term starts,” I say.  “So you’re not so busy with classes.”

           “That only give us a few weeks.”  I shrug.

           “So?  We’ll keep it small.  Just your family and Penny and Micah or something.  We can’t invite any Normals anyway.  Besides, I thought you wanted to get married in a hurry.”  Baz gives me an enormous smile and kisses me.

           “I think that sounds perfect,” he says.

SIMON

           “I can’t find anything,” Penny says.  Baz growls.

           “Keep looking.  There has to be something.”  Baz has a mountain of books in front of him.  On the other side of the computer screen, Penny does as well.  Baz, Penny, and I have been digging through stack after stack of books for days.  We’re looking for a magickal wedding ceremony that won’t require me to cast a spell.  It doesn’t exist.

           We’ve tried everything.  I called Penny’s mum to ask if I could borrow some of their books on family magic (which is the source of many of the books in front of us now), Penny ripped right through her own library, and Baz even contacted the Coven and some of the members of the old families who he can stand.

           “A wedding is a time for magic,” Penny says.  “A typical ceremony has dozens of spells.  It’s a ward against marrying Normals.”

           “I know!” Baz grumbles, tossing his book aside and reaching for another.  “I was at my father and stepmother’s wedding.  It felt like Simon had gone off in there when they were done.  And you two left the room glowing.  But there has to be something.  Anything.  I don’t care how obscure.”

           “You two could just have a Normal ceremony,” Penny suggests.  Baz scowls at her.

           “Over my dead body.  Simon is not a Normal!”

           “I know he isn’t Baz, but that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t have magic anymore.”

           I think this is the biggest sticking point for Baz.  I wouldn’t mind a Normal ceremony.  I don’t even think Baz would really mind (although I certainly think his family might).  But Baz spent so much time convincing me that I’m not a Normal at a time when I was desperate and hopeless and trying to leave him over it, that I think the thought of a Normal wedding ceremony frightens him to death.  It doesn’t frighten me (I’m never leaving him now, even if I miraculously meet my parents and find out they’re merwolves), but it’s so sweet watching him try so hard that I can’t bring myself to stop him.  Penny, I think, is just having fun.

           Natasha cries and Baz is so absorbed in his book he doesn’t even fight me for the bottle.  I sit next to him on the couch, feeding Natasha and reading over his shoulder.  He’s looking up African traditions.  There’s a lot of African tribal magic that holds tremendous power, and they have ceremonies that no one in Europe uses, but they still all require spells.  It wouldn’t be a magickal ceremony without spells.

           “I wonder if we can find some way to use his wings,” Baz wonders aloud, turning the page.

           “I can’t fly Baz,” I say.  “I’ve tried.  You know I’ve tried.  I have no control.”

           “You could learn control.”

           “Do you really want me to break my neck?”  Baz shrugs.

           “I can fix that.”

           “Focus boys!” Penny says.

           “We are focused Bunce,” Baz barks, abandoning his book for another.  He’s read them all already, but now he’s just trying to see if there’s anything he missed.  There isn’t.

            I look over at him.  He’s so engrossed and agitated, he’s sucking on his fangs.  He hasn’t done that in a long time.  I sigh.  I have a suggestion.  I thought of it yesterday, but I don’t really want to voice it.  I don’t really want to do it.  But this has gone from sweet to painful.  I hate watching Baz suffer like this.

           “We could use Simon says,” I say.  Baz gapes at me and I hear something break on Penny’s end.

           “Simon…” Penny says sadly.  I look down at Natasha so I don’t have to meet either of their eyes.

           “Simon, you hate Simon says,” Penny continues.  “You told me never to use it again.”

           “I know,” I say.  “But it might be the best solution in this situation.”

           “But,” Penny argues, “what if something goes wrong.”  I shrug.

           “It should be ok if cast an actual spell afterwards instead of saying unpredictable words.  I do is just about the easiest spell there is.  You can’t mispronounce it, and it works as long as you mean it.”

           “Simon,” Baz says.  I look at him and his eyes are wide as dinner plates.  “I think that’s the most brilliant thing you’ve ever said.”  I roll my eyes.

           “You’ve been saying that a lot lately Baz.  I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”  Baz is still looking at me in awe, but he smiles.

           “Yeah, maybe you’re right.  Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

           “Baz!” I whine, but he laughs and kisses my cheek.

           “It’s brilliant Simon,” he says.  “It’s perfect.”

           “Baz, I can still see you,” Penny says.  “But I agree Simon.  It’s perfect.  It’s the only solution really.  And it should work.  I’ll do a little research into Simon says to make sure we use it right, but let’s go with this.”

           “Great,” Baz says.  “Talk to you later Bunce.”  Penny hangs up.  Baz wraps his arms around me and kisses me properly.

           “We’re getting married Simon!” he says.  “We’re actually getting married.”

           “We were getting married before Baz,” I say, but I’m grinning.

           “I know, but now we know how.  I can work with I do.  It’s not the big magickal spectacle I’m sure my family was hoping for, but it’s binding and traditional and no one can complain about it.  You’re a genius.”  I stare at him.

           “You’ve never said that to me before.  Ever.  Not once.”

           “Well, there’s a first time for everything right?”  I roll my eyes, but I kiss him again.  We’re getting married!

BAZ

           I’m not nervous.  I’m not nervous.  I’m not nervous.

           Ok, fuck it, I’m nervous.

           “You’re not getting cold feet now, are you Baz?” Bunce asks as she pins a flower to my lapel.  I roll my eyes.

           “Of course not,” I say.

           “Are you sure?  You look worried.”

           “Of course I’m worried.  Why aren’t you worried?  Simon hates Simon says.  It’s probably his least favorite spell.  He wouldn’t even let me practice.  I’m not sure it’s going to work.”

           “It’ll be fine,” Bunce says, straightening my tie and spelling my tux perfect.  I’m so nervous I didn’t even do this stuff myself.  “I’ve done loads of research.  I know how to use it.  And Simon’s right, if he casts a proper spell afterwards, it’ll work the way it should.  We won’t have any surprises like last time.”

           “Still, you can’t blame me for worrying.  Things do tend to blow up around him when he tries to use magic.  You know that better than anyone.”  Bunce grins.

           “Simon hasn’t gone off in years, Baz.  Besides, he’ll be using my magic.  I don’t think he can go off.”

           “I know.  But that doesn’t mean he won’t.  Knowing Simon, he’ll set the whole house on fire without even trying.”

           “Your faith in him is astounding.”  I grin.

           “I can always count on him to be unpredictable.”  Bunce laughs.

           “I’m going to go check on Simon,” she says.  “Do you need anything else?”  I shake my head.

           “I’ll be alright.  Just make sure his room isn’t smoking.”  Bunce rolls her eyes and heads out.

           We’re at my family estate in Hampshire.  The holes in the magickal atmosphere disappeared steadily after Simon defeated the Humdrum, and the hole in Hampshire closed enough a few years ago that my family moved back in.  There’s still an area in the east wing where I think the magic is thin, but Pitches are stubborn and we wouldn’t let a little thing like that keep us from our estate.  Or something.  I’ve become much less involved in the old families’ politics since I started dating Simon.  Technically, the house in Hampshire belongs to me now that I’m of age (it is the Pitch estate and my father is a Grimm), but my father and stepmother are much more attached to it than I ever was, and I have no interest in moving into it right now.  But it seemed like a decent enough place for the wedding, so here we are.

           Bunce is acting as both of our Best Man.  There was no one else either of us wanted to ask, and since the wedding is small (just my immediate family and some of Bunce’s), we thought it would be fine.  Fiona actually flew in from Rio, where she hunts vampires and drinks to excess, even though I know she hates Simon (the feeling’s mutual).  Simon invited Wellbelove, but she’s not here (she sent a card).  And headmaster Bunce agreed to perform the ceremony for us.

           There’s a knock at the door.  I banish all traces of nerves from my face.  (It’s one thing for Simon and Bunce to see me vulnerable.  I’d die before I let anyone else catch me looking like that.)

           “Come in,” I say.  My father and stepmother come into the room.  My stepmother is holding Natasha.  She’s all decked out in a gorgeous red and gold dress that my stepmother bought her, and she looks fine.  My stepmother is dripping in diamonds.  My father is dressed to the nines in tie and tails with his hair slicked back.  (Mine is loose.  Simon prefers it that way.)

           “Oh Baz, you look brilliant,” my stepmother gushes.  My father just nods his approval.  Natasha reaches up to me and I hold my hand out to her so she can grip my finger.  I kiss her on the forehead and my stepmother beams at me.  She’s never seen me like this.  I was never this affectionate with her children (I was ten when Mordelia was born.  I was hardly of an age where I wanted to dote on my younger sister, and it just became habit after that.  And my family’s not overly affectionate to begin with.)

           “Daphne,” my father says.  “Can I have a moment alone with Basil?”  My stepmother smiles at him.

           “Of course,” she says.  I watch with a twinge of sadness as she takes Natasha away from me (I hate it when I can’t see her), but my father clears his throat and my attention turns back to him.

           “Basil,” he says.  “I know you think that I don’t approve of this marriage.  And honestly, I’m not thrilled.  This is not the life I would have chosen for you.”  I know all this, but I don’t really appreciate my father bringing it up on my wedding day.  But I swallow my annoyance and keep my face impassive.  My father continues.

           “But this is the life you have chosen.  You are my son, and I respect your decision.  I’m proud of you Basilton.  I want you to know that.”  I don’t know what to say.  I thought my father was begrudgingly agreeing to this marriage because Natasha forced his hand (maybe that’s still true).  But I never expected him to say he was proud of me for it.  I will myself not to cry.  I’m not that pathetic.

           “Father…” I begin, but before I can say anything else Fiona nearly breaks down my door.  (I actually thank her for that.  I don’t know how I was going to finish that sentence.)

           “Baz!” she says, gripping me by the shoulders.

           “Yes Fiona?” I ask.

           “I’m here to talk you out of this.  You don’t have to do this.  There’s still time.  There are plenty of other men out there.  We’ll find you someone.”  (Fiona has never been bothered by my gayness.  Just my dating Simon Snow-ness.)

           “You’re not going to talk me out of this,” I say.  “I’m marrying Simon whether you like it or not.”  Fiona scowls.

           “I swear Basil, if you hadn’t named that brat Natasha, I don’t think I’d even be here.  What’s your plan now?  After you bind yourself to the Chosen One forever?”  I shrug.

           “To be happy.”  Fiona glares at me.  Fortunately, Bunce sticks her head in the room so Fiona can’t finish her tirade.

           “It’s time,” she says.

           My father leads a smoldering Fiona out of the room and we head outside to the garden where we have a few chairs set up.  My stepmother and siblings are already waiting for us, the kids bouncing up and down in their seats.  Natasha has fallen asleep in my stepmother’s arms.  Micah and Bunce’s father have their heads bent together in deep conversation (they have a surprising amount in common), but they look up when I come over.  Headmaster Bunce is standing at the front, looking a bit like my mother in her red Watford robes and tight bun.  She gives me a nod and I nod back.  Then Bunce steps out of the house with Simon.  And all my fears melt away.

           He’s wearing a tux similar to mine and his hair is gelled flat and parted on the side.  He looks ridiculous without his curls falling in his face and I don’t care one bit.  Because he’s looking right at me and there’s so much joy and tenderness in his eyes that I can’t see anything else. 

Simon Snow.  The love of my life.  I don’t care if he sets the whole world on fire.  Together, we can take on anything.

-Epilogue-

SIMON

           “Daddy, have you seen my sock?” Natasha asks.

           “Wasn’t it on your foot?” I reply.  Natasha sighs, puts her hands on her hips and shakes her mop of unruly brown curls.  Already a drama queen at five years old (I really don’t know where she gets that from).  And also a beauty (I guess I know where she gets that from, but she looks less and less like Agatha the older she gets).

           “It was,” she says, “but I had to take it off because I didn’t have a bag to hold my marbles, and now I can’t find it.”  I laugh.  I can’t help it.  Natasha makes me ridiculously happy on a daily basis.  Baz comes in and adds a heavy box to the growing pile in the middle of the room.

           “Have you tried Finders keepers?” he asks.  Natasha started using magic recently.  Baz has been coaching her.  (Agatha sent us her wand so that Natasha has a magickal instrument that’s tied to her bloodline.)  I frankly find it terrifying, but Baz assures me that it’s perfectly normal for magickal training to begin so young, and that he’s only teaching her spells she can handle.  But I’m not so sure Finders keepers is a good beginner’s spell.  I feel like it will just cause problems.

           “No not yet!” Natasha exclaims.  “Thanks father, I’ll try that!”  She scampers off to her room to find her wand and her sock.  Baz chuckles.

           “She’s a powerful little mage that one,” he says.  “Just like her namesakes.”  I nod.

           “That she is.  But I wish you would teach her more age appropriate spells.  One’s that won’t have her spelling away the neighbor’s dog.”  Baz laughs.

           “She’ll be fine.  She can’t be the only kid at Watford who doesn’t know Finders keepers.”

           “She’s not going to Watford yet.  She’s five.”

           “Technically, we’re all going to Watford.  Hand me that marker.”  I do and Baz labels the box.

           We’re moving.  To Watford.  Baz was recently offered the position of Linguistics Professor (Penny’s mum is finally bringing the program back), and I wouldn’t let him turn it down.

            Baz stands up straight and sighs.

           “Simon, I’m going to ask you one last time.  Are you sure you’re ok with this?”  Baz is worried about moving me to Watford, and I don’t blame him.  The last time I was there I kept glancing around like a nervous, twitchy mouse and tried to break up with him.  I haven’t been back to Watford since Baz’s Leavers Ball.  For a while, when I thought of Watford, all I could remember was Ebb bleeding all over the floor and the Mage dying in Baz’s arms.  But years have passed since then, and I’ve made peace with the Mage’s death.

           I take both of Baz’s hands.

           “Baz, there is no way in hell I’m keeping you from your dream job.  You’ve wanted to be a professor at Watford for as long as I’ve known you.  You want to be headmaster one day.”  Baz looks down at our hands.

           “You’re not wrong,” he says.  “But I’m worried about you.  Are you going to be ok, living at Watford with no magic and with…well…memories.”

           “What memories?” I ask, even though I know he’s referring to the Mage’s death.  “Meeting you?  Or Penny?  Or Agatha?  Eating scones in the dining hall?  Studying under the yew trees?  Playing football on the pitch?”  I squeeze Baz’s hands.

           “A lot of terrible things happened at Watford,” I continue.  “Things I’d rather forget.  But a lot of wonderful things happened there too.  I love Watford, I always have.  And I can’t wait to go back.”  I give him an enormous grin.  Baz returns it.

           “You’re amazing, you know that?” he says.  I lean in and kiss him.

           “Also, Penny’s teaching Magickal History there now, so that’s really my motivation.”  Baz laughs and shakes his head.

           “Of course it is Snow.  What was I thinking?”  I grin and kiss him again.

           “Daddy, father, look what I found!” Natasha says, racing back into the room.  I let go of Baz.

           “Your sock?” I say.  Natasha shakes her curls.

           “No!  Well, yes, but I also found this!”  She holds up a book.  It’s one of mine.  (I’m still writing them.  Thankfully I work from home, so the move to Watford shouldn’t affect my career too much.  I actually think it’ll be a great place for coming up with story ideas.)

           “It was between the wall and my bed,” she says.  “I thought I lost it.  I’m so glad.”  She hugs it to her chest.  “It’s my favorite.”  She holds it out to me.  “Will you read it?”  I grin.

           “Sure, why not.”  Baz and I sit on the couch, and Natasha crawls up into Baz’s lap even though I’m the one reading the story.  Baz and I used to fight more about who was monopolizing Natasha time, but as she got older we just let her decide.  She’d rather sit in Baz’s lap, but she’ll reach for my hand first when crossing the street.  She always asks me to read to her, but she asks Baz to help her make her bed or pick out her clothes.  She’s irresistible.

           I lean against Baz so that Natasha can see the pictures more clearly (and also so that I can lean against Baz).  I clear my throat.

           “Once upon a time, there lived a vampire.  But this wasn’t just any vampire.  This was the king of the vampires.  The bravest, strongest, and handsomest vampire in the whole kingdom.  Everyone looked up to him and respected him.  But this vampire had a secret.  One that he wasn’t willing to share with anyone.  He was lonely.

           “In the neighboring kingdom, there lived a knight.  But this wasn’t just any knight.  This was most powerful knight who had ever lived.  Everyone in the kingdom expected great things from him, and he roamed the land, fighting monsters and protecting the people.  But this knight had a secret.  One that he wasn’t willing to share with anyone.  He was lonely.

           “One day, when the knight was out wandering the woods, he came across the vampire king, hidden in a grove.  The king had snuck out of his castle so that no one could see him cry, for he was so lonely that he couldn’t help himself.  Now, normally the knight hated vampires.  His kingdom and the vampire kingdom were not on good terms.  But the knight felt bad for the poor, crying vampire, and he took pity on him.

           “’My dear man,’ the knight said.  ‘What has made you cry so?’  The vampire was startled to see the knight, and embarrassed that the knight had seen him crying.

           “’That is none of your concern, lowly human,’ the vampire said.  ‘Be gone or I will suck you dry.’  But the knight was not afraid.

           “’It seems to me,’ the knight said, ‘that you are crying alone in the woods because you have no one to lean on when you are in pain.’  The vampire stared at the knight, because the knight was exactly right.

           “’How did you know?’ the vampire asked.  ‘How did you, a simple human, know in an instant what is buried in my heart?’

           “’Because,’ the knight replied, ‘I cry alone too.’  The two shared a moment of deep understanding.

           “’I have a suggestion,’ the knight said.  ‘When you wish to cry, you should come to me.  And when I wish to cry, I will come to you.  And in that way, maybe we will cry less and laugh more.’  The vampire thought about that.  He wasn’t sure he could trust the knight, but the knight had understood him better than anyone he knew, and he thought, maybe, that the knight may provide a path out of his lonely life.

           “’This offer pleases me, sir knight,’ the vampire said.  And they shook hands on their agreement.

           “The two became fast friends.  At first, they sought each other out when they needed to cry, but, just as the knight had predicted, soon they came together so that they could laugh.  They became as close as two people could be, and they helped mend the rift between their kingdoms.

           “And they lived happily ever after.  The end.”

           Natasha is grinning like crazy when I finish.

           “I love that story!” she says.  “It’s so pretty.  Thanks daddy!”  She kisses both me and Baz on the cheek, then hops off Baz’s lap.

           “I’m going to find more things that are lost in my room!” she declares, then disappears, wand in hand.  I shake my head.  Baz really shouldn’t have taught her that spell.

           “I hate that book,” Baz says.  I’m still resting against him, but I turn to face him.

           “Why?” I ask.

           “Because you summed up our entire relationship in under 500 words and turned one of the most intensely emotional moments of my life into a simple crying bout.  That’s not exactly how I want to remember our first kiss.  And why do I come off looking so pathetic?”

           “There wasn’t a better way to write it!” I say.  “I tried and tried and tried.  You know I did.  You read all my drafts.”  Baz puts his arm around me and pulls me close.

           “I know you did.  And I was pathetic that night, so you did actually get everything right.”

           “No you weren’t,” I say.  “You weren’t pathetic.  Then or ever.  You’re the most incredible person I know.”

           “That’s my line.”  I smile and lean my head against his, enjoying the cool feeling of his skin and the comfort of his presence.

           “We’ve come so far from that day,” I say.

           “And yet, we’re moving back to Watford, where it all began.  Life has a bizarre sense of humor sometimes, don’t you think?”  I laugh.

           “Yeah, but I’m ok with it.  We’re living happily ever after, so I can’t complain.”

           “Uck, Snow, don’t get cheesy on me now.  Save it for your books.”  I laugh again and give Baz a kiss.

           Natasha comes back into the room with another found treasure (a dead spider) and Baz and I burst out laughing.

           This is perfect.  This is the way life should be.  I couldn’t be happier.

           But I’ll damn well try.