Work Text:
Baz
“Baaaaaaazzzz… I’m bored.” I look over at him. He’s hanging upside down from the arm of the couch, his curly hair catching the light from the window, his wingtips brushing the floor.
“Simon, I have an exam tomorrow, I really need to revise.” I turn back toward my notes, spread out before me, but face him again when he keeps talking.
“You don’t need to revise though. If I took that book away right now you’d still know everything it says.” His face will be as red as his wings soon, if he keeps hanging like that.
“Snow, we had this conversation fifteen minutes ago. I really don’t have time to have it again.” He huffs out a breath and launches himself into a sitting position. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how suddenly he moves. It’s like he saves his energy to use it all up in big bursts.
“Well, I’m going to Tesco. I’ll bring back food in a few hours. Work quickly, because I promise you I won’t be any less annoying when I get back, and I am going to hide your books. You never stop working anymore, and it’s not good for you.” He grabs his mobile from the coffee table and walks into the kitchen. He wraps me in his wings, using them like a cocoon, and kisses the top of my head. “Love you. Call if you need anything.”
And then he’s gone. I turn to go back to my work before I remember. I run to the door and fling it open.
“Simon!” He turns, waiting for the elevator, smiling bemusedly.
“Yes, love?”
“Your wings. Come here, let me hide them.” And then we’re both laughing, at the strangeness of our lives.
Simon
I’m walking aimlessly through Tesco. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I’ll know when I see it. I’ve made it to the tea aisle, and I rifle through the boxes, even though I know we have a cabinet full of tea at home. My wings are tucked against my back. I prefer to just hide them, not get rid of them completely for everyday errands, although it does make car rides less comfortable.
Finally, after what I deem an acceptable amount of time, I start looking for something we may actually want to eat tonight. I decide on frozen chicken nuggets, a salad, and some blueberry scones. They’re nothing like the Watford scones, but I reconciled myself to subpar scones long ago.
And then, as I’m walking to check out, I see something else that catches my eye, and toss it in my basket. The self-checkout works, for once, and I head home.
Baz is still sitting at the table, surrounded by papers and textbooks, when I arrive at our flat.
“You have,” I check the package for the chicken nuggets, “fifteen minutes before we sit down to eat.” He grunts in acknowledgement, and I pour the nuggets onto a cookie sheet, and stick them in the oven. I toss the salad and pull out two plates from the cabinet. I close some of the books he doesn’t seem to be using and set down the plates in the empty spaces. The oven beeps, and I pull out the nuggets, putting them in a bowl.
“Alright, time’s up. Notes away for the night.” He grumbles, but starts putting away the papers. He’s been working non-stop for days, and sometimes I have to intervene to make sure he doesn’t lose himself in schoolwork. I serve myself some of the salad and chicken nuggets, and then produce my impulse buy. I go to start eating, knowing it will take him a while to get all his things in order, but quickly lose control of my nugget and then –
“Snow! Did you actually just hit me in the face with a chicken nugget? What the bloody hell –” And then he stops, just looking at me.
Baz
“Simon, are those chopsticks?”
My idiot boyfriend looks at me, grins, and says, “Yeah, why?”
“To eat chicken nuggets. And salad. Have you lost your mind?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.” I watch him select his next nugget carefully, fully prepared to duck, but he eats it without incident. He finishes chewing, smiles, and asks, “Could I have my wings back to normal, please?”
I laugh, and with an, “As you were!” his wings are shining there, bright red and flared open. I grab my pair of chopsticks and begin to eat. He’s wearing one of my jumpers I gave him, and my favorite smile, and I am so glad he’s a part of my life.
“Why is it that every time you go to Tesco unaccompanied you come home with something strange and unnecessary?”
He chuckles and says, “Well, you are about eighty-five percent of my impulse control.”
I laugh, and we finish eating in silence. I was famished and I didn’t even notice, but of course he knew. Sometimes I wonder if I would be surviving university if it weren’t for Simon Snow. We get up together, and I wash the dishes while he dries.
Once we finish, I dry my hands on a dishtowel. He’s putting away the last of the plates, so I wait for him to close the cabinet, then I tap him on the shoulder. He looks back at me, his wings flaring slightly.
“Turn around, please.” He smiles, pulling his wings in close to his back and turning to face me. I hug him, burying my face in his shoulder, pulling him close. His wings wrap around us, and the light shines red. “Thank you,” I mumble into his shirt. “University would eat me alive if it weren’t for you.”
He pulls me away so I’m looking him in the face. “There’s no need to thank me. I love you, and you do the same thing for me when you know I need it.” He stretches up on his toes and kisses my forehead, then grins. “Let’s go watch bad TV until you fall asleep.”
He drops his wings and grabs my hand, and I laugh as he drags me toward the den. Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.