Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘Well, isn’t this the icing on top of the goddamn cake,’ Baz Pitch thought to himself bitterly as he stepped accidentally into a six-inch-deep hole in the pavement, filled with murky liquid. He grimaced and shook out his foot, his eyes welling up with hot, frustrated tears. Baz tightened his thin cardigan around his shaking frame and continued down the dimly lit city road, bustling with nightlife and suspicious looking buildings.

His father would have never allowed Baz to be out roaming the streets of downtown Murlka this late at night, and for good reason. No uncensorable activities were practiced after dusk in Murlka anyways, but the area Baz was in was especially crime-ridden. Malcolm was suspicious of lower-income areas as a general rule, but mentions of the city of Murlka often brought a sneer to his worn face. 

Baz watched out of the corner of his eye as two women cautiously approached a deteriorating door at the end of an alleyway. One woman knocked on the door in a strange pattern, and it was opened to them by an unknown figure from behind it. As the women snuck through the opening, light, music, and boisterous chatter leaked into the darkness. 

Baz hesitated, watching as the door shut behind them. He just longed for warmth and comfort, and after the spectacularly shitty day that he’d endured, a lager most definitely wouldn’t hurt. He heard his father chastising him in the back of his mind for even contemplating stepping foot in a speakeasy, but Baz didn’t have to worry about his father anymore, he supposed. 

He bustled swiftly down the alleyway and stood in front of the door, trying to mimic the knocking pattern that the woman had done previously. Miraculously, the door opened and a burly man whisked him in. Baz was immediately hit by heat coming from within the speakeasy, along with the smell of spices and a palpable stickiness to the air. 

Baz hesitantly made his way to a bar and sat down on a vacant stool, refraining from touching the counters. His eyes scanned the room he was in, noticing how many of the people lounging about on the shabby furniture were what his family would lovingly describe as “low-functioning”. They were all laughing unabashedly and uninhibited with their movements, nothing refined about their mannerisms. It made a small fire light in Baz’s gut, both thrilling and nauseating him with the reality of where he was and what he was doing. He continued looking around the bar detachedly until his eyes caught glance of the emblem sewn on the bartender's canvas apron. 

A silver dragon.

Goddamnit . Leave it to him to stumble his merry way into a speakeasy run by one of the most dangerous gangs in the fucking city. Baz crossed his legs tentatively as the weight of the situation sunk in. He was in Dragon territory. 

‘Okay, okay. One drink or else you’ll look suspicious. You already look suspicious. Why the fuck did I pick today to wear the pink rose button up under this cursed cardigan?’

He pulled his satchel onto his lap and rummaged through it, examining the money and clothes he’d stuffed it with before abandoning his family’s home just a few hours prior. He hadn’t been thinking when he packed, he was just thinking about getting out . 

He grimaced as he finished counting the cash he’d haphazardly thrown in, knowing that he’d barely have enough for breakfast the next day, let alone a hotel room, and Baz knew he could forget about buying a consolatory beer for himself tonight. Just as he tried to formulate a plan that would allow him to leave as discreetly as possible, a man sat down next to Baz.

Baz’s body stiffened as he heard the man order a drink, refusing to look at him. Baz was slowly sliding out of the stool when the man spoke to him.

“Is everything alright, mate? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just saw the empty seat and thought- I guess- That I could sit here? Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“You’re fine,” Baz interrupted harshly, turning to give the man a glare to signal that it was most definitely not fine.

The man had soft, curly hair and softer looking light eyes. He had moles covering all of his face and neck, like someone took a paintbrush dipped in brown paint and gently pressed the ends of the bristles to his skin. His face was flushed, with embarrassment or heat Baz couldn’t tell, and was smiling sheepishly at him.

“Right then,” the man said, rubbing his hands on his pants before extending one to Baz, “I’m Simon Snow.”

Baz glared at Simon’s hand until he withdrew it, flushing more. Then, Simon’s nose scrunched up, looking Baz up and down.

“...You don’t look like you’re from around here, are you new to town?” 

Baz refused to look at the distressing way Simon’s biceps were stuffed into his linen shirt sleeves.

“Not necessarily.” Baz ran his hand through hair, suddenly realizing how distraught he must look. His hair was practically ratted, his once pristine pants had a rip in them from when he fell out of the tree next to his bedroom window, and his hands were quite scuffed as well.

Simon looked skeptically at Baz and leaned forward onto the counter, ordering another drink from a bartender with spiked, blonde hair.

The bartender placed the second beer in front of Simon, and he smiled gratefully at her.

“Thank, Keris.”

She nodded, and Baz briefly wondered just how often Simon frequented this bar, before Simon slid the beer towards him. Baz froze and pushed the drink away from him.

“I don’t drink.” He sniffed, hating himself for turning it down because in reality, he desperately wanted to drink, but considering the circumstances, Baz needed to be on his guard.

Simon looked at Baz again, not saying anything for a moment before leaning in towards him. Baz leaned away.

“Listen, mate, I might be reading you completely wrong right now, so don’t take it personally if I am, but... do you need help?” Simon asked in a hushed tone, trying to look directly in Baz’s eyes.

Baz tensed. “Help?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah. I mean, from what I can gather, you’re here because you don’t have a home. Your clothes look ridiculously pricey, but you look all frazzled, so I’m guessing you’re a runaway?”

Baz bit his lip anxiously and nodded.

Simon continued, “I’ve been in a similar position before, when I had to leg it from a home I was staying in, and it can be dangerous. I can help you get back on your feet-”

Baz stood up, the stool screeching on the hardwood floor. “As much as I appreciate the sob story,” he interrupted, gathering his satchel, “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself without the assistance of street urchin.”

“Wh-what?” Simon’s face went bright red and he sputtered for a good minute as Baz chugged the drink he’d previously refused.

“We are not the same, nor will we ever be the same. Save your help for someone who needs it.” Baz started to walk away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m trying to save you from living on the streets!” Simon called after him.

Baz turned towards him, looking down his nose at Simon and sneering. “Believe me, that’s most definitely not a concern of mine. You’ll eventually learn that some people were made to survive in this world, and some were made to rule it. I just so happen to be the latter. All the best to you, Snow. ”

Simon’s fists clenched at his sides as he exited the bar.

Baz shook with panic as he walked down the alleyway, a heavy haze of uncertainty clouding him.

----

It had been two months since that night. Baz had managed to scrounge together enough money for two nights in a hostel (a hostel) before he was kicked out.

During the first month, he tried to find work in the city, but found that he either didn’t have the skills or he looked too dodgy for the work.

Baz Pitch. Looking too dodgy for downtown Murlka. It was almost laughable.

He had found a small, abandoned bakery that was in the process of getting torn down that he camped out in. It was completely revolting, but there was no chance in hell that Baz was going to slum it with the fellow homeless teenagers that resided on Green Street.

Every so often (more often than he would care to admit), as Baz lay in a disgusting corner of a rotting pantry, he would imagine that the man from the bar, Simon, was cradling him as he slept, his curls pressing into his neck. He acknowledged that it was pathetic, but to be frank, he wasn’t exactly in a highpoint in his life thus far.

After that, he realized that if he wanted to have any chance at getting out of this shit, he was going to have to change tactics. Ever since the alcohol ban had been put into effect approximately a decade ago, speakeasies and underground markets had spread like wildfire, and Baz knew that there was a good amount of people in the city that would pay for small quantities of it.

So, consequently, Baz was climbing the side of the building where the Silver Dragon’s speakeasy was hidden, praying to every god he knew that he could get his hands on some booze. 

He had decided to break in first thing in the morning so the building would be completely vacant. All he had to do was scale the two story building, locate an entrance on the roof, find where they store the alcohol, make his grand escape, and finally be able to leave this godforsaken city.

Baz hurled himself onto the roof as one last rush of adrenaline hit him. He lay there on the cement platform, panting heavily and realizing that he should have done significantly more cardio when he was at the Grimm-Pitch mansion. Not that it would matter now, Baz was fairly certain that after weeks of malnutrition, he looked like a wispy phantom. 

He sat up and scoured the roof, looking for any kind of entrance to the speakeasy. He nearly burst into tears when he saw a chute protruding from the floor. He scrambled towards it and winced when he saw how small it was. He tried to climb into it, and to his surprise, was able to slide through with minor inconvenience. 

He wiggled his way through the piping and landed into a (thankfully unlit) oven. Baz figured that the chute must have been used as a makeshift chimney, and looked down disdainfully at himself, completely covered in ash. He slid out of the oven and saw that he was behind the bar of the speakeasy. He briefly glanced at the stool where he had sat the first night he came to Murlka. He looked over to the stool where Simon had sat and had a repulsive flashing thought of pressing his face to it.

Baz was disturbed. Ask anyone.

He made quick work of locating where they must keep the alcohol but upon trying to open the door to the cellar, discovered it was locked. Baz shook it forcefully, hoping the lock might just, you know, unlock . 

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

As Baz scanned the doorknob, contemplating if he should try to break it, he felt a painful hit at the back of his head, which caused his head to ricochet into the door.

‘Karma really is a bitch.’ Baz thought to himself as he lay on the floor, looking up at a blurry shadow.

---

When Baz opened his eyes, a woman was standing over him in a warmly lit room.

“Ker... Keris?” He asked, faintly recognizing the woman as the bartender that he had barely met that night at the speakeasy.

The woman, Keris, nodded and gave him an asymmetrical grin. “I hope you know that you may be the most inexperienced criminal I’ve caught in the bar.”

Baz sat up and instantly regretted it, lying back down. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, clutching his head, “what did you do to me?”

“Nothing too severe, just whacked you upside the head when I saw you at the cellar door. I almost didn’t see ya, blended in with the shadows real well.”

Baz cursed again and opened his eyes fully, looking around at the room he was being held in, which happened to be a cozy… lounge? Normally, he’d likely be panicking much more severely in this situation, but the head injury he’d sustained seemed to have lessened his flight or fight response.

“Where am I?” Baz inquired, shifting himself up slowly into a sitting position, where he saw that he was reclined on a horrid floral couch.

“Ne’ermind that, but you best be getting up soon, Agatha will want to see you.” Keris handed him a glass of water. 

Baz looked at the glass suspiciously. “Is this how you treat all intruders? Letting them rest on your couch and offering them water so they don’t dehydrate?”

To his surprise, Keris laughed and grabbed Baz by the arm, easing him to his feet. 

“Not normally, no. You should really talk to Aggie.”

Kerris slowly helped him exit the room, where he was guided down a spectacularly well maintained hallway, full of stunning pieces of artwork. Baz would have taken more time to examine them, if he wasn’t more confused than he’d ever been in his life.

When they arrived in front of a pair of oak french doors, Kerris knocked three times.

“Come in,” a delicate voice from behind the doors sounded.

Kerris walked Baz inside the room, which appeared to be an office, and behind a large wooden desk sat a petite, blonde-haired woman who radiated power and importance. Baz was led to a chair in front of the desk, where he sat and came to the realization of who he was sitting in front of.

Agatha Wellbelove. The ringleader of the Silver Dragons.

‘Oh, fuck me.’

---

After a few moments of discussion, Baz discovered that he was not about the be thrown into a pit of snakes or whatever other form of torture that gangs used on poor blokes that crossed them.

“How did you scale the building?” Agatha asked, intrigued and almost excited.

Baz shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know,” he winced at how shaky his voice was, “I just… did.”

Agatha pursed her lips and nodded. “You’re homeless, correct?”

Baz almost got offended before he realized that he was, in fact, living on the streets. He nodded.

Agatha clasped her hands together. “Listen, I normally wouldn’t be offering this, especially to someone who tried to steal from one of our establishments, but the truth is, you’re stealthy. Like, frighteningly stealthy. If you weren’t so inexperienced, you probably would have gotten away unscathed, which has never happened to us before. Which is why I want you on our side.”

Our side. 

“I would like to ask you to… assist… the Silver Dragons.” Agatha said, looking at Baz square in the eyes.

Baz shook his head immediately. “I’m not a criminal.”

“Neither are we.” Agatha countered, “We’re just fighting for liberation. Unfortunately, that means we have to get our hands a little dirty in order to do so, but it’s a worthy fight.”

Baz picked at his nails and clenched his jaw, thinking.

“What would I get in return?”

“Housing, food, and extra cash.” 

“Housing where?”

“Here, in the headquarters. You’d have a roommate, but I don’t think you're in any position to oppose a roommate.”

A pause.

“What would you want me to do?”

“Mostly investigative work. You’re too sneaky to not utilize you for that. You wouldn’t have to do any heavy lifting.”

“...Heavy lifting?”

Agatha held up a her hand like a gun and faced it towards him.

“...How long would I be working for you?”

“However long you wish.”

Baz bit his lip. The rational part of his brain was sounding the alarm, and he was wondering what the hell he was thinking.

He reached out his hand, “Deal.”

Agatha shook it with a firm grip and grinned, “Lovely. Keris, lead him to Simon’s and help him get set up.”

‘Simon?’

Keris took him up a flight of stairs and down another hallway. When she reached the end, she knocked on a door. 

‘ It’s not him. It can’t be.’

The door opened and there, in all of his golden haired, rumpled glory, was Simon Snow.

‘ This isn’t real. I have a head injury, and therefore, I am likely hallucinating. Hallucinating a very pleasant thing to look at, but hallucinating nonetheless.’ 

“Hey there, Simon, I’ve had quite a strange day at the bar, and long story short… you have a new roommate?”

Simon smiled kindly at her and turned to look at Baz, his smile sliding off of his lips. He opened the door wider and Baz straightened, trying to look as put together as possible, even though he was certain that his face was still covered with ash.

Simon’s face scrunched up like he just smelled something awful. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

‘Oh, fuck me.’

Chapter Text

Two Months Later...

Baz woke up to Simon stomping around their room, fussing with a pistol that was secured to his chest with a leather strap. Baz sat up to roll out his neck, aching from yesterday’s training. He took the slightest of seconds to admire Simon’s sleep-tousled hair before reaching for his pillow and chucking it at him.

Simon flinched as the pillow hit his shoulder before narrowing his eyes at Baz. “What? What did I do ?”

“I’m trying to sleep , you numpty. I’m cognizant that you can’t be bothered with spatial awareness, but for the sake of everyone else in the building, try to keep the bulldozing to a minimum.” Baz spat while attempting to look as aloof as possible, which was difficult whilst swathed in a blanket. 

Simon’s face blossomed a bright red as he sputtered complete nonsense, and Baz took another moment to bask in the idiotic glory that was Simon Snow. 

“Listen, I get that this is hard for you,” Simon ranted gracelessly, “having your whole lifestyle change and whatnot, but it’s- I mean- You’re not any better than us just because you lived in a posh mansion or whatever. We’re all on the same level here and you just have to get used to that.”

Baz raised an eyebrow at Simon, “Are you done?”

Simon’s mouth went into a line. “Yeah, I-I guess so.”

“Fabulous, because as much as I adored that inspirational speech to start my morning, I’m not needed until three today, so I’m planning to sleep in past dawn for a change.” Baz flung himself back into his bed in a way that he hoped was resolved rather than immature and whiney. 

“Sorry, mate, Aggie wants us all up for a meeting. Was gonna let you sleep a little longer before we had to be there, but since you decided to be Sleeping-fucking-Beauty-”

“A meeting?” Baz asked, sitting up again, “For what?”

“I don’t know, probably a new job for us, I’m guessing.” Simon said, his tone implying that Baz should have assumed this.

In the two months that Baz had been a part of the Silver Dragons, he hadn’t had many “jobs”. He was mostly training with a bloke named Dev who was trying to teach Baz how to use a few different weapons. All in all, working with Dev hadn’t been terrible, he was actually a fairly relaxed guy to be around, he just had an unnatural obsession with weapons that made Baz uneasy. Dev was fascinated with guns specifically, but he “didn’t discriminate” against other weapons.

Baz had met only a few other people in the gang so far, other than Dev. He had met Dev’s boyfriend, Niall, a bomb specialist, and he had only known they were together after a training session Niall had dropped in on to bring them lunch. Dev had remarked that Niall was “a real dish” and winked at Baz. Baz gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. No offense to Niall, but not his type.

He had also met Penelope Bunce, Simon’s best friend, and one of the interrogators for the Dragons. Penelope was properly scary, as well as truly brilliant. She and Baz were not by any means “close”, but she was an excellent conversationalist and made a point to bring him lunch everyday, much to the dismay of Simon, who was offended that any extra food Penny brought had not gone immediately to him.

What an intellectual like Penelope Bunce was doing with Simon Snow, Baz could not fathom.

Baz got out of his bed and began collecting his clothes to change into in the ensuite. Simon rushed to stand between him and the bathroom door. 

“ Move, Snow.” Baz said, baring his teeth. (He had always been told that his canines were eerily prominent, and he used them to his advantage.)

“I don’t feel like it, no.” Simon sniffed, leaning against the door stiffly.

Baz took a step forward, “Are you five? If you wouldn’t mind throwing a tantrum elsewhere, that would be lovely.”

Simon stepped forward as well, nearly chest to chest with Baz, and for a moment, Baz was intimidated. Simon was mainly used as brute force for the gang, and he was by no means weak. Even though Baz had become significantly stronger over the eight weeks he’d been at the headquarters, he knew that he wouldn’t stand a chance against Simon.

“Anathema,” Baz said softly, and internally grimaced when he heard his voice catch.

“Anathema” was somewhat of a safe word in the Silver Dragons. It was a heavily enforced rule that you couldn’t turn against fellow Dragons, and if you did, it was “a punishment worse than death”. If you felt that you were in danger, a quickly muttered “anathema” was enough to remind anyone to step back, unless you wanted to risk the consequences.

Simon didn’t budge, still looking directly into his eyes.

Baz knew if he didn’t get away from him, he was going to do something he would severely regret, so he shoved Simon to the side forcefully and rushed into the bathroom.

He shut the door quickly behind him and leaned against it, taking a shaky breath and willing the butterflies in his stomach to dissipate.

‘Stupid boy,’ Baz thought, about himself or Simon, didn’t know.

---

Baz sat in a cushioned chair in the corner of the lounge as everyone filed in, sitting together on the couches or plopping down on the floor. They all seemed to be relaxed, talking jovially amongst each other, which Baz would have thought was strange a month ago, but he had come to realize that members of the Silver Dragons considered each other family. The notion of the Dragons being his family was ridiculous, saccharine, and made him oddly homesick.

There was no world in which he would ever consider this circus of criminals his family.

Simon glared at him from across the room as he sat on the floor next to Penelope. Baz gave him a cool look in return.

Baz quickly noticed that there were only a few people gathered for this meeting. He didn’t know exactly how many members lived in the Silver Dragons headquarters, but he figured approximately fifty. There were only eight people in this room, including Agatha, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit.

“Good morning everyone,” Agatha addressed casually, sitting cross-legged on a coffee table. “I hope you all slept well, because you’re not going to get much sleep in the near future, if all goes to plan. We have been hired for a new job.”

Both of Baz’s eyebrows raised instinctively before he manipulated his face to look unamused.

“I have to say, this is a stranger gig than most we’ve had. Last night, Keris was approached by a lad at the Weeping Tower, ordering her to give me this.” Agatha held up a crimson envelope between her middle and index fingers.

Keris sat up straighter, giving Agatha a sheepish smile. Keris was used as muscle for the Dragons, as well as working for the bar Baz had broken into, the Weeping Tower. Keris had been nice enough to him, but it made him queasy when he remembered the nasty blow to the head she’d given him.

“This letter details a… messy job that needs to be done in order for a payment of two million Nijkes, to be split among each team member who helps execute the job.”

A thick silence draped the room, everyone in complete shock while Agatha wore a hungry smirk on her face.

‘Two million Nijkes.’ Baz thought ravenously, imagining the luxury he could indulge in with just a fraction of that money.

“Two million Nijkes?! ” Simon exclaimed, breaking the stillness abruptly.

Agatha nodded and continued, “The job this man details is less savory than most, to warn you. I assume that most of you know of Davy Mage, the Prime Minister of Andreal?”

Baz’s stomach dropped at that name, his mind bubbling with memories of his father cursing out Mage and his ideologies. He quickly shoved them away and returned his attention back to Agatha.

“While I am not personally a fan of Mage, I cannot grasp the motivation behind this request, especially for this amount of money. I can’t wrap my mind around it.” Agatha continued, inspecting the rumpled letter and biting her lip slightly.

“What’s the job?” Penny asked, looking hesitant.

“Just to preface,” Agatha warned, “I don’t blame any of you if you refuse to take this gig. I put this team together because I think this particular group could have the key ingredients for success, but if you wish to drop out, I won’t stop you. You can be replaced.” 

Agatha stood up, scanning her eyes over their faces and taking a breath. “This letter requests the capture of Davy Mage, dead or alive, and I believe that this team is the group to do it.”

Baz sat dumbfounded for a moment before raising out of his chair, a grim look on his face. “I’m in.”

He was almost shocked that he agreed, his mind hadn’t even caught up with his body before he made his decision, but he knew he would have agreed anyways. Regardless of the morality of this job, it was two million Nijkes. Besides, Mage could rot in hell for all Baz cared.

Simon, seeing Baz’s proclamation as a personal competition, stood up and looked directly at Baz. “So am I.”

One by one, everyone in the room stood, announcing their agreement. 

When everyone was standing, awaiting Agatha for further instruction, she smiled confidently. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” 

Baz refused to look over at Simon, who was still gawking at him. 

‘Game on.’

Chapter Text

Baz was sitting at a table in one of the mangiest bars he had ever seen. He didn’t like bars anyways due to traumatic memories from the last time he visited the Weeping Tower and was concussed, but this pub was gruesome. It was barely lit at all, smelled of rotting wood, and he had one bite of the burger he ordered and nearly gagged. He just prayed that this Nicodemus bloke was actually going to show up today.

In the meeting they’d had with Agatha explaining their next job, she had told them that their largest source of information about Mage would likely come from an ex-associate of his, Nicodemus Petty.

Baz and Penny had tried to do as much research as possible from dated newspapers and the like, but came up short. The only useful information they found was that Petty had been hired as a hitman by an anonymous group to take out Mage. Upon being caught by local law enforcement, they had his right hand amputated and several teeth knocked out as a means to get Nico to tell them who hired him. He wouldn’t talk.

It all made Baz nauseous to think about, so he refrained from doing so.

Baz had done some snooping of his own, hiding out in the shadows of Murlka, eavesdropping on locals, and, in some cases, blackmailing for knowledge about Nicodemus. He found very little other than Petty frequenting a speakeasy called Mina’s , and that was all they needed.

All of this had led to Baz sitting at a damp table in Mina’s , sitting directly across from Trixie and Simon, the three of them scanning the room for a man with a missing arm. Every once in a while, Simon’s foot would bump Baz’s, and Baz had to restrain himself from kicking Simon hard in the shin in retaliation. 

Simon hadn’t had a problem with his food, he had already scarfed down his own meal, and asked Baz if he was planning on eating the rest of his offensive burger. Simon was well on his way to ordering a dessert when he went perfectly still, watching as someone came through the door. Baz forced himself not to look.

In his peripherals, he saw Trixie tense and grab Baz’s knee, and he knew that she saw him too. Baz nodded slightly without looking at her, and got up, walking over to a table with a new occupant.

“Nicodemus Petty?” Baz asked, raising an eyebrow at the man.

The man, Nicodemus, raised an eyebrow back. “Who’s asking?”

“Does it matter?” Baz pulled out a fag and lit up.

Nicodemus shrugged and settled his clasped hands on the table. “What are you here for, mate? I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m not thirsting for company.”

Baz exhaled slowly and leaned back, trying not to look too eager. “I heard you knew a good deal about Davy Mage. I was simply wondering if you had any information on his whereabouts.”

Nico’s face paled momentarily before sneering at Baz. “It’s no mystery that he lives right off of the mainland, on that little island… Faia, I think it’s called. You didn’t need to ask me for that, it’s local knowledge.”

‘Faia.’

Baz was forcing himself to look directly into Nicodemus’s eyes rather than the stub at the end of his forearm, which was resting on the table.

“I meant, do you have any idea what the layout of his… home would look like?”

Nico narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. “If I did, why would I tell you?”

Baz took a pouch out of his pocket and threw it onto the table. Nicodemus inspected its contents and licked his lips. Baz took another hit and stubbed his cig out on the table.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s say, hypothetically , I wanted to find Mage in his home… and I wasn’t invited in. Do you know how I would, hypothetically, do it?”

Nico sighed, raking his hair back with one hand. Baz refused to back down, not breaking eye contact.

“Okay… Do you have anything I could write on?” Nico asked, pulling out a pen.

Baz searched through his pockets and sighed when he only found his white handkerchief. He handed it to Nicodemus.

Nicodemus began to sketch a floor plan onto the fabric. Baz held himself back from scooting the handkerchief towards him so he could more clearly see what Nico was drawing.

“These X-es,” Nico explained, pointing them out with his pen, “are entrances to Mage’s house. He keeps at least two guards in front of each one at all times.”

“The Mage’s men,” Baz interrupted, a vague memory of men in green suits at his door resurfacing briefly.

Nicodemus nodded. “The closest entrance to the living quarters is at the back, next to the greenhouse. Davy is usually in either his office,” He pointed to a room, “Or ‘training’ in the forest in the back.”

“‘Training’?”

Nicodemus shrugged. “Who knows what he’s doing, mate. Probably performing rituals with virgins or kidnapping children.”

Baz grimaced, reaching to take the fabric and tuck it into his pocket. “Thank you, I appreciate your help.”

Nicodemus grabbed Baz’s wrist tight and Baz’s pulse spiked.

“Whatever you’re trying to do,” Nico murmured, a frantic look in his eye, “don’t do it. You don’t look like the tough type.”

Baz gritted his teeth. “ Let go of me .”

Nico inspected Baz’s hand. “You barely even have any calluses… What are you doing in this part of town?”

Baz distantly heard a chair screech on the floor, but didn’t turn away from Nico. He tried to yank his hand back, but Nicodemus was surprisingly strong.

“You’re gonna fail, you know.” Nico said, breathing harder, “If Mage doesn’t fuckin’ kill you, Murlka will.”

Baz heard someone come up from behind him as he yanked his hand away. He turned and saw Simon, looking tense. 

“Baz, let’s go.” Simon glared at Nicodemus.

Baz, visibly frazzled, turned and started to walk towards Trixie who was waiting at the door.

“I meant what I said,” Nico continued, “pretty boys like you won’t make it far in Murlka, that is unless you want to make a visit to Ms. Lavinia’s .”

Baz wasn’t going to respond, but when he heard a large crash behind him, he whirled around and saw Nicodemus on the ground, clenching his face with Simon towering over him.

Trixie rushed over to Simon and tugged him away from the scene, leading them all out the door.

“ Simon,” She said furiously as soon as they were out of the pub. “What the fuck were you thinking? We were supposed to be keeping a low profile!”

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

Baz stayed silent, watching how Simon’s hands were shaking. Did he always shake after a fight?

Simon stopped in the middle of the street, turning to Baz. 

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, reaching out slowly for Baz’s hand, the one that Nico had grabbed.

Baz watched stunned as Simon looked over his wrist, biting his lip. “It should only get a bit bruised, I’ll reckon.”

His thumb was moving in little circles over a prominent bone that made a bump in Baz’s wrist. It felt nice. Baz was just starting to relax into Simon’s touch when Trixie groaned.

“Don’t try to deflect, Simon!” She scolded, and Simon dropped his hand, “Seriously, this could be detrimental! If Nico tells anyone that some thugs looking for Mage tried to attack him, our mission could end before it even started!”

Simon nodded and looked down. Baz pushed away his softness for him, knowing Simon would rather drown than have Baz pity him.

“What’s Ms. Lavinia’s?” Baz asked, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible.

That may not have been the best way to do so, it seemed, because the mood got uncomfortable almost immediately. Trixie swallowed and looked away, and Simon flushed.

Baz waited, looking expectantly at them both.

“It’s- Uh,” Simon said, “Its- I guess, I’ve, uh, never been, but... It’s a place in Murlka where they sell… Physical favors.”

Baz felt his ears heat up, feeling humiliated as it dawned on him. “Oh.”

‘What the fuck am I doing here? I should go home. Not to headquarters, home. I’d be better off in that fucking hell hole being coherced into prosititution.’ Baz thought, forcing down angry tears, even though he knew his nose was scrunching up with the effort.

Simon broke the silence first, “Nicodemus is full of shit, by the way. You’re fucking ruthless, they couldn’t handle you at Lavinia’s.”

Baz, against his will, let out a little snorty laugh.

Simon grinned at that, “He’s just all pissy because he has to spend the rest of his days alone at Mina’s, while you’re making a name for yourself, and willl soon be up to your ears in Nijkes.”

Trixie laughed a little at that and shook her head. “Alright boys, you heard the man, I guess we better get our cruise ship ready because we’re going on a vacation to Faia.”

Chapter Text

The trip to the Pier was excruciating. It was a five hour carriage ride, and not that Baz didn’t enjoy making intellectual conversation with Bunce, but at some point, his head started hurting from prolonged social interaction. As well as that, Simon was driving him mad. Simon had been glaring at him for three hours at that point, which would have been almost impressive if it weren’t so unnerving.

Meanwhile, Baz couldn’t get the events of the other day out of his head. The memory of Simon’s thumb rubbing circles into his wrist was so persistent, if Baz closed his eyes he could almost feel its pressure again.  

‘Pathetic.’

Baz was trying to nap against his side of the carriage and still felt Simon’s gaze burning into him. He huffed and turned to Simon, who was sitting across from him next to a communications specialist named Shepard. Baz didn’t pay attention to Shepard all that much, but when he did, he was talking a mile a minute or hopelessly admiring Penelope (likely unrequited).

“Do you have a problem?” Baz asked Simon, phrasing it more as a statement than a question.

Simon jolted, looking quickly away from Baz and then back. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been glaring at me for hours now, what do you want? ”

Simon bristled. “Have not!”

“Yes, you have, you absolute-”

Penny interjected, “Alright, calm down. Simon, stop staring at Baz. Baz... stop picking fights with Simon.”

Baz flushed a little, embarrassed that he had been scolded like a temperamental infant. Across from him, Simon was looking down at his feet.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, apart from Simon begging to stop the carriage so he could “take a leak”. When they reached the Pier, Baz leapt to his feet, eager to be out of the lurching cage from hell. He stepped down onto the stool below him, but overestimated his sense of balance and stumbled out of the carriage, nearly falling on his face. 

He felt someone grab his arm, and was pulled upright by Simon. Baz’s ears felt hot as he gave him a curt nod as a half-assed “thank you” and turned to Agatha, who had pulled up with the rest of the team in a separate carriage.

Behind Agatha was the harbour, surrounded by the shimmering ocean reflecting the deep purples and reds of a ripened sunset. Closer to where the gang was gathered, vendors set up shop, selling aromatic produce and spices. Baz turned around and to the back of him stood several quaint local restaurants, all selling fresh seafood.

“Alright everyone, here’s the plan.” Agatha announced in a soft voice, aware that she was in public, “I’ve already set up sleeping arrangements at the Mummer’s Inn, and we’ll be staying there tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll meet back here at six in the morning and ship out to Faia. You have the rest of the night to do as you please, but I beg of you, stay out of trouble. We don’t need to attract any attention to us, alright?”

The group nodded and made their way down the street to Mummer’s. Baz made an attempt to look unimpressed at his surroundings, but eventually gave it up. It really was stunning, and he supposed that the sea air must have been impacting his usually chilled attitude.

The gang filed one by one into a small and shabby inn. Agatha went up to talk to a man at the desk, and Baz looked at the various cheap paintings nailed to the walls. When Agatha came back from the desk, she held several keys in her palm.

“Alright everyone, you and your roommate have to share your key, so please do not lose it…” Agatha continued speaking as Baz’s brain fixated on you and your roommate.

Baz knew he should have assumed that he and Simon were going to share a room, and it’s not like that would be unusual for them, but Baz hadn’t slept in the room with Simon since their strange moment because planning for the mission had overtaken both of their sleep schedules. A pit grew in his stomach at the thought of confronting Simon after his extensive glaring spell.

Baz avoided eye contact with him as he grabbed their key, examined the room number scrawled onto it, and led the way. Simon followed silently, tugging along both of their bags.

Baz opened the door for them and scrutinized the room, taking in its outdated decor and dusty scent. Simon didn’t wait two seconds before leaping onto the bed face first.

“I call this one!” Simon called out with his face smothered in the mattress. Baz grimaced, knowing that they rarely washed the top blanket, and looked around for the other bed. 

Only there wasn’t one.

Baz stepped into the bathroom, and opened a door that only led to a small closet, searching helplessly for a second bed. Then, he stepped into the hallway, rechecking their room number.

‘You’ve got to be fucking with me.’ Baz thought as he searched the room again, as if a second bed was just going to appear out of thin air to save Baz from this hell.

Simon sat up, watching Baz pace with a confused look on his face, before the situation dawning on him as well.

 “What the fuck? Where’s the other bed? What did you do?” Simon asked, looking around the room.

“Oh, my apologies, Snow, let me just pull it back out of my suitcase. Jesus Christ, what could I have possibly done to make the other bed disappear?”

Simon shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t done anything.”

Baz held his head up with one hand, not bothering to respond to that nonsense.

Simon took another look around, and cleared his throat. “Well, er- You, uh, can take the bed.”

Baz looked up. “Where will you sleep, then?”

Simon shrugged again, and Baz found it pathetic how adorable he thought it was. His standards had apparently dropped to critically low levels.

“On the floor, I guess,” Simon said, getting off the bed.

Baz’s jaw dropped. “No, you are fucking not. Do you have any idea how many pests and fungi live in the carpet? I will not allow you to bring bedbugs back to our room when this is over.”

Simon snorted and smiled, and Baz’s breath hitched. “Alright, then we can share.”

‘Shit.’

“Fine.”

Baz set his bag on a wooden bench at the end of their bed and walked to the bathroom, getting in the shower, and pointedly ignoring the fact that he was going to share a bed with Simon bloody Snow. He also ignored how many fantasies he’d had about this exact situation when he was sleeping on the floor of the abandoned bakery only months ago.

When he was done, he smelled like shoddy hotel shampoo and body wash. The inn didn’t even carry a shitty miniature conditioner, which thoroughly pissed him off. 

He went to grab his clothing off the counter before he realized that he had forgotten to bring his pajamas into the bathroom with him. Cursing himself for being a moron, he secured the towel around his waist tightly and walked as casually as he could out of the bathroom. 

Simon was dead asleep on the bed, and Baz exhaled a sigh of relief. He slipped on his trousers under the wet towel and took it off, returning it to dry in the bathroom. When he came back, Simon was sitting upright in their bed, blinking at him.

Baz refrained from folding his arms over his bare chest and snatched his shirt, quickly throwing it on. As he did, he felt a sharp pain in his neck and yelped, clamping his hand over the pain.

Simon sprang out of bed and came over to him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Baz gritted his teeth, embarrassed. “Nothing, I’m fine, I must have just pinched a nerve.”

Simon frowned and stood in front of him, far too close. “Can you turn your head?”

“Really, I’m fine , Snow.”

“Here.” Simon gently put one hand on Baz’s chin and the other on the side of his head.

Baz tensed.

“Relax.” Simon said, slowly turning Baz’s head to the left. 

Baz tried to relax, but when Simon turned his head to the right, he flinched and yanked his head away.

Simon grimaced. “Sorry. I used to get pinched nerves all the time. Here,” Simon sat cross legged on the bed, patting the space in front of him, “Sit.”

Baz hesitated, but as he tried to turn his head again, realized that his neck was well and truly fucked. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back towards Simon.

“I don’t get it,” Simon said as he scooched towards Baz, “You’re practically a gymnast, climbing all over the place, how is it that getting dressed was the task to take you out?”

“If I knew, I’d-” Baz inhaled sharply when Simon placed his hands on Baz’s shoulders, “...Tell you.”

Simon started kneading into his trapezius, gently making his way up to the nape of his neck. When his fingers got to the base of Baz’s scalp, he ran his fingers back down lightly and went back to his shoulders.

Baz didn’t dare move, and several alarms were going off in his head asking what the hell was happening right now.  

Baz tried everything he could to stop himself from getting gooseflesh, but he knew that his skin was betraying him, which was exceptionally mortifying. 

Simon continued massaging, his warm hands scalding against Baz’s cooler skin. He usually hated being so cold, he had never been “warm-blooded”, but in this moment, Baz was pleased with it because it aided in the complimentary temperatures of their skin.

Simon’s warm breath grew gradually closer and closer to his neck, and Baz prepared himself. What he was preparing himself for , he had no clue. For Simon to wrap his arms around Baz’s waist? For Simon to leave heated kisses on Baz’s shoulders?

Right when he thought Simon might actually go in for the kill, he felt him jump back. Baz turned around to look, but Simon had given him two firm pats to the shoulder.

“That should help you out, mate.” Simon hopped off the bed, nearly tripping over his feet, “I’m gonna, er, grab some ice for you to put on that.”

Baz nodded, feeling his cheeks heat. “Right.”

“Right.” Simon repeated and paused, looking at Baz a moment before rushing out the door.

Baz folded his arms over his stomach, trying with every ounce of his being to subdue the flurry of nerves and want that were ricocheting in his gut.

Chapter Text

Baz had been lying awake next to Simon for an hour, ruminating on the events following his “injury”. He knew that Simon was awake as well, knowing what he sounded like when he was fast asleep. Baz just prayed that Simon thought he was asleep for the sake of his own dignity.

Baz didn’t understand what had led Simon to get so close to him, and then have kittens when he realized what he was doing. Sure, a back rub after an injury could be considered platonic comradery at least, but pressing your face into your mate’s neck? That may be harder to justify.

Baz was in the midst of dissecting that moment when he heard Simon.

“Pssst. Psssssst. Baz?”

Baz didn’t move. “ What ?”

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

“I’m hungry.”

“No shit.”

“Do you wanna get pasta at one of those restaurants by the Pier?”

Baz considered it. He had already made a plan to avoid any other awkward incidents with Simon, which included avoiding him/bullying him until the end of time so Simon would never find out about Baz’s overpowering attraction towards him, but Baz was hungry. They hadn’t stopped for dinner after leaving the carriage, going straight to the hotel and sleeping, and Baz had just now realized that the clenching in his stomach wasn’t purely from nerves.

“What time is it?”

“Only 11 pm.”

“...Alright.” Baz got out of bed and fished through his bag for a pair of presentable trousers and a button-up.

“What are you doing?” Simon asked, throwing on a cotton tee-shirt and plain jeans. 

“Well, I’m not leaving in my loungewear, am I?” Baz sneered, and left for the bathroom while Simon muttered something along the lines of “...so fucking posh…”

---

Simon was sitting across from Baz in a cozy little restaurant that was right across from the Pier. The chalkboard sign in front had announced that every meal came with a free scone, and that was all Simon had to hear to drag Baz in.

Baz had ordered a clam chowder and Simon was slurping down a Scoglio pasta. They had spoken very little to each other, but it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable. They were just both exhausted and were content on zoning out in their meals together.

Baz felt a warm rush in his chest when he looked up to see Simon trying to lick sauce from the corner of his mouth.

‘Disgusting.’

Baz rolled his eyes, and before he could stop himself, and was leaning across the table with his own napkin, gently wiping Simon’s mouth. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly sat back down and attempted to hide his burning face by taking a large sip of tea.

He set it down and saw that Simon was flushed as well, but that wasn’t unusual.

Simon recovered faster than Baz, and took another bite, “Can I ask you something?”

Baz stilled, “Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on if I feel like answering.” Baz sniffed.

“Well, do you?” Simon asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Do I what ?”

Simon groaned. “You are so… aggravating, do you know that?”

Baz smirked. “Good, that’s my defining characteristic.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows, leaning back. “I don’t think so.”

“Then, what do you think it is, Snow?” Baz asked, the question coming out softer than he had intended

Simon bit his lip, clearly thinking hard about it, before smiling a little. “Your passion.”

Baz was taken aback. “My passion?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah. You’re a very passionate person. You’re a complete dick sometimes, don’t forget about that, but you’re… You’re made of fire. You’re oddly smart too, but you don’t lead with your brain, even though that’s what you want everyone to think. You lead with your soul.”

‘You’re made of fire.’

Baz didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t, taking another spoonful of chowder. They sat in silence for a few moments before Baz broke it.

“What did you want to ask me?” 

“What?”

Baz raised an eyebrow. “You asked if I would respond to a question you had, and I think I might. At least, there’s a good chance I will.”

Simon looked down, picking at the tablecloth before looking back up. “Why did you run away? The night I first met you, you told me you ran away.”

Baz flinched when Simon referenced the night at the Weeping Tower. He hated remembering how fragile he was that night, how cocky he was about how “some people were made to rule” or some bullshit. 

Clearly, Baz wasn’t ruling anything, not even his own mind.

“You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.” Simon said.

Baz sighed. “I ran away from my family home, where I used to live. My family is part of the Old Families, and as such, they have old-fashioned values thrust upon them. I told them something that contradicted their morals, and told me that as long as I was a member of the Old Families, I couldn’t display such behavior. I left soon after.”

Simon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What did you tell them?”

Baz hesitated, knowing if he told Simon this, things would change drastically, but he wasn’t ashamed of who he was and he didn’t want Simon to think he was ashamed of it either.

“I told them that I was gay.”

Simon’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he didn’t respond.

‘Uh, oh.’ 

Baz continued. “I know my father wasn’t comfortable with it, but he didn’t hate me for it. It was because of the Old Families that I left, because I would have never been able to date or marry under their reign. Maybe if my mother was still alive I would have stayed, but I knew I wasn’t about to live my life in shame.”

Simon nodded again, looking down at his half-finished pasta (which was concerning in itself) before reaching across the table, grabbing Baz’s hand with his warmer one.

“Uh, thanks. For telling me, I mean.” Simon said, not looking directly in Baz’s eyes, but still at his face. 

Baz didn’t know if he should enable this behavior or not, so he just nodded, still letting Simon hold his hand because there wasn’t a world in hell where he would refuse that.

Simon let go, and Baz felt his stomach drop before seeing Simon pull out a couple Nijkes and dropping them onto the table. “Let’s get out of here, okay? I wanna go onto the docks.”

Baz nodded again, because apparently that was all he was capable of doing, and stood up, wiping his sweating hands down his trousers discreetly.

Simon led him out the door and down to the Pier, digging through the satchel he brought with him.

“Ahhh, there we go.” Simon said as he pulled out a bottle of wine and began uncorking it.

They eventually found a dock that wasn’t locked off by a gate, and made their way down the end, where Simon plopped down unceremoniously, swinging his legs over the water and taking a swig from the bottle.

Baz followed, sitting down next to Simon and stealing the wine, taking a hearty swig.

“Why did you run away?” Baz asked, passing the bottle to Simon.

Simon snorted. “My story is not as interesting as yours. I just left the orphanage I was at.”

Baz watched Simon’s adam's apple bob as he drank, getting the sudden urge to lick it. “You were an orphan.”

Simon nodded, passing the bottle back. “The orphanage wasn’t too bad, I was just hungry, I guess. I’m not an orphan anymore, at least.”

Baz narrowed his eyes, “You’re not?”

“Silver Dragons. They’re my family. ‘Guess that includes you now, doesn’t it?”

Baz’s stomach turned. “Ew, no. Don’t say that.”

Simon grinned at Baz. “Why not?”

Baz didn’t know what to say to that, not wanting to expose his pathetic crush, so he just raised an eyebrow and watched Simon’s grin grow.

Suddenly, Baz heard a soft violin faintly play in the distance, and gasped. “I know this song!”

“You do?”

He nodded hastily (the wine must have been kicking in), “Schön Rosmarin, I used to be able to play it on the violin”

Simon stood and listened as well, “ You used to be able to play that ?”

Baz sneered, but he had a feeling it didn’t stick as well as he hoped because Simon laughed and held his hand out towards him.

“Well, then may I ask for a dance to Scho-... Whatever?”

If Baz was asked about this later on, he would have told whoever asked that he was horribly drunk, and that was the reason why he snorted unattractively and grabbed Simon’s hand.

Simon swung Baz around, nearing dangerously to the edge of the dock as they “danced”. When Simon had calmed down, he grabbed Baz’s hips, pulling him flush against his own body and swayed unevenly to the tempo of the song. Baz tentatively put his hands on Simon’s biceps and rested his head on his shoulder, even though he had to crane his neck a bit to do so, and shut his eyes.

They had stood there, swaying and holding each other for a few minutes past when the song ended when Baz lifted his head, looking at Simon. 

Simon’s eyes were wide open. 

And his face was getting closer. 

Baz felt a heat in his chest grow as he leaned in as well.

Simon's breath had barely brushed his lips when he turned his head, his mouth in a straight line, almost as if to get suck his lips away from Baz’s

.

“We should head back. It’s late.”

Baz felt the heat in his chest clench as he stepped back away from Simon… and off the dock into ice cold water. 

Baz gasped as he came up for air, scrambling at the slimey dock.

“Shit-shit-shit-shit-” Simon chanted as he grabbed both Baz’s wrists and hauled him onto the dock.

Baz was shaking aggressively as Simon hugged him to his chest. 

“Oh, my God , Baz, are you okay?”

Baz’s jaw chattered as he pushed himself away from Simon, struggling to his feet.

“Baz, are-”

“Just peachy, Snow.” Baz spat, feeling startlingly sober.

Chapter Text

Baz refused to look at Simon. 

The team was currently on a boat sailing to Faia, and Baz was sitting off to the side, adamantly ignoring all attempts that Simon made to socialize with him. Eventually, Simon decided to sit in silence next to Baz, smiling at him every few minutes.

It was brutal.

Baz stuffed his hands between his thighs, shaking vigorously from the biting sea-air that refused to rest. Another just hit him, and Baz knew his hair was going to be a fluffed nightmare when they got to Faia.

Baz suppressed a full body shudder as the wind slapped his red cheeks and he rubbed his hands together vigorously. Agatha had told them that it may be a “little chilly” and to bring a coat, but this was lunacy.

Without any warning, Simon grabbed both of his hands and Baz recoiled slightly. 

“Jesus, your hands are like ice.” 

“Stop with the flattery, just call me Baz.” Baz replied, looking away from Simon.

Simon laughed a bit and held Baz’s hands up to his face, blowing heavy, hot air onto them.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, grateful that his cheeks were already flushed from the cold.

“Warming your hands up, you’re so damn cold.” Simon said, rubbing one of Baz’s hands between his own as he continued breathing on it.

Baz withdrew his hands, moving to sit on top of them so Simon couldn’t be tempted to pant on them again. “I’m fine, I’m always cold... By all definitions.”

Simon smiled softly, “Not as much as you hope you are.”

He was about to come up with a nasty retort to that when Simon pressed the back of his hand to Baz’s cheek. 

Baz stiffened and held his breath.

“Your cheeks are fine,” he ran a finger down the helix of Baz’s ear, “so are your ears. I just think the rest of you is chilly.”

Baz nodded, still not breathing until Simon stopped touching his face, which was when Penny came over to join them. He took a shaky breath as Penny struck up a conversation with Simon.

----

Faia was magnificent.

The Pier was quaint, a sleepy coastal town full of fisherman and farmers, but Faia was an enigma. Everyone was wearing an extravagant mask, designed to either look like a jeweled animal head, a metallic colombina , or a full-faced joker mask. There were far too many street performers, and a man standing on a fountain in the middle of the plaza was getting coins thrown at him as he stood in an unwavering arabesque.

As soon as they got off the boat, Agatha ordered each of them to buy a mask in order to blend in. Penny bought a purple colombina , Simon bought a golden jackal, and Baz found a blood-red raven mask. As soon as they were wearing their masks, they met back up with Agatha, who donned a silver doe. 

“We have to wait until afternoon to start our trek to Mage’s home, so you all have about two hours to get lunch and meet me at the fountain. May I remind you all: no drinking on the job.” Agatha instructed.

Penny, Agatha, Simon, Shepard, and Baz formed a group to find lunch and travel through the city. Baz was window shopping as they made their way to a cafe at the end of mainstreet, admiring shops with extravagant clothing, books, and knick-knacks. They were about a block away from the cafe when he stopped in his tracks in front of a boutique.

Simon stopped with him. “What?”

Baz’s mind was thick with nostalgia. “That’s- Do you see that scarf?” 

“The blue one?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

Baz cleared his throat, knowing how ridiculous he was acting. “It’s nothing really, my mother used to have one that was really similar.”

A look of realization passed over Simon’s face. “Oh, like, your mum? ”

Baz rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Simon knocked into his shoulder. “Okay, then let’s get it.”

Baz shook his head. “I don’t have any money left, and I refuse to steal from small businesses.”

Simon was the one to roll his eyes now. “I have money.”

Baz shook his head harder. “No, you can’t pay for me. You already paid for dinner last night.”

A sharp wave of tension fell over them at the mention of the previous night, both avoiding bringing it up.

Simon wrestled through it. “It’s not my fault I have more money than you.”

“Actually, it is your fault. Do you have any idea what that phrase even means?”

“Just let me buy the damn scarf, Baz.”

Baz hesitated. “Fine, but I’m paying you back.”

Simon threw up his hands. “Great, whatever.”

---

When they left the shop with Baz’s hands tightly gripping the scarf, the rest of their group had already left them to go to the cafe. 

“Hold on,” Simon said, pausing in front of the door to the boutique and taking the scarf out of Baz’s hands.

“What?”

“You get cold, I was just going to help you put on the scarf.”

Baz tensed as Simon gently wrapped the fabric around his throat. “Believe it or not, I am capable of putting on a scarf, Snow.”

Simon stopped, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Right, sorry.”

‘Wait, no, nevermind, forget what I just said. I am a complete moron, please continue to dress me.’

Baz was blushing under his mask as he finished tying the scarf.

They quickly made their way to the cafe, where Agatha, Penny, and Shepard were sitting at a table on the patio.

“Lovely for you to join us,” Agatha said sarcastically, her mask removed to drink her tea.

Baz removed his as well as he sat beside her, Simon sitting next to him. 

“I ordered you two the house stew by the way,” Penny said, sliding them two cups of lukewarm tea. 

Simon smiled at her, “Thanks, Pen.”

---

“Kissing with your eyes open is weird, Shep.” Penny criticized, poking her spoon into his shoulder.

“It is not. It’s intimate! Vulnerable!”

Baz finished his stew, pushing the bowl away from him.

“It’s creepy.” Agatha added, adjusting her coat.

“Well, I think it’s weird to close yourself off by closing your eyes! Kissing is supposed to be special and intimate, if you close your eyes, it’s like you’re distancing yourself from that person,” Shepard defended.

“Nah, mate,” Simon said, “I agree. It’s pretty strange to have your eyes wide open while you’re snogging.”

Baz’s stomach jolted, trying to push the thoughts of Simon ‘snogging’ a faceless stranger as he pretended to inspect his fingernails.

“Is it really that weird? Baz, do you close your eyes when you kiss?” Shepard asked, and Baz wanted to strangle him.

“I don’t know.” Baz replied, feigning indifference.

Simon turned to Baz. “How do you not know?”

Baz silently wished for death.

“I’ve never done it.” Baz said, his eyes fixated on his hand.

“ Kissing?”

“No, birthing kittens. Of course kissing.”

Baz finally looked up to find Simon gaping at him.

“ How?”

Baz bridled. “What do you mean ‘how’?”

“It’s just that- Well, you’re fit, right?” Simon explained, still looking dumbfounded.

Baz’s hands gripped his chair.

“Sorry, Baz. I- uh- didn’t mean to assume.” Shepard said, looking between Baz and Simon.

‘Kill me now.’

“It’s fine.” Baz said, rigidly.

Agatha stood up from the table, running her hands through her hair. “We should go to the fountain. I really want to get to Mage’s by midnight, and we have to walk through the forest to get there, which will take a couple hours.”

Everyone else stood, gathering their things and putting back on their masks. Baz felt Simon put his hand on his shoulder and lean up to his ear.

“Sorry,” Simon murmured.

Baz shrugged him off. “It’s fine.”

Chapter Text

Baz was jolted by a branch snapping back into his face as Simon pushed past an overgrown bush in front of him.

“What the fuck, Snow?”

Simon turned and winced when he saw Baz’s murderous glare. “Whoops. Sorry.”

They had been trekking in Faia’s forest for several hours, and Baz had no clue how Shepard was able to navigate through it. The forest was daunting in daylight, let alone now that the sun had set. Baz had shouldered through the intimidation of the forest, and had moved on to feeling gratuitously annoyed at Simon’s boundless energy.

Simon had tried to initiate conversation several times since lunch, but Baz’s responses were stilted, his mind elsewhere. Up until they entered the forest, Baz hadn’t fully processed that he was going to invade Davy Mage’s home/laboratories. Even as he marched along with the gang in the pitch dark woodlands, he didn’t really believe that they were going to kidnap Mage. ‘ Dead or Alive’.

The thought of doing so made Baz feel lightheaded… Or maybe it was all of the walking. They had been walking for so long. As Baz took another step forward, he swayed into Simon’s back.

Almost as quickly as he stumbled, he righted himself, but Simon’s eyes were already on him. 

“Baz, are you alright?”

Baz clenched his eyes shut, cursing himself as he felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. ‘Why am I getting so emotional? Fucking pull it together.’

“Perfect,” Baz responded, pulling his shoulders back.

“You sure? We can take a break, or I can carry you-”

“I’m not a damsel in a commonplace fantasy novel, Snow. I don’t need to be carried by you, Jesus Christ.” Baz interrupted, walking ahead of Simon and fighting the urge to press his ice cold hands to his ears to subdue their heat.

Simon caught up with him, staying silent and walking in tandem with him. Baz was just barely beginning to talk himself down when Simon looped his arm around his. 

“What are you doing ?” Baz jerked his arm back, wishing he could let himself enjoy Simon’s touch, but knowing all to well how that ended last time.

Simon shrugged. “I’m feeling tired, and I want to use you to prop me up.”

Baz narrowed his eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re worried I’m going to faint.”

Simon shook his head too fast. “I’m not! I just figured we could lean on each other in case the other one gets tired, so no one will get left behind.”

‘T his is logical,’ Baz though as he wordlessly extended his arm to Simon, looking straight ahead. ‘ This has nothing to do with affection, it’s merely a safety precaution. It’s necessary, really. We’re both at the back of the line, and this way, we all stay together.’

Baz basked in Simon’s body heat as Simon wrapped his arm back around his, feeling particularly weak.

Baz’s concept of time was completely abstract when in physical contact with Simon Snow, so when they stood face to face with a harsh, concrete mansion, he didn’t know if he had been walking arm in arm with Simon for minutes or hours.

Shepard turned back to face the team. “Do we need to refresh the plan?”

Penny interjected. “Absolutely. Baz will sneak in first and get to security, reporting back on how protected the entrance is, and then we’ll send Simon and Niall in with drugged explosives to take them out. After that, we’ll send in the rest of the team apart from me, Shep, and Agatha to find Mage and tranquilize him. Sound good? This is your last chance to ask questions.”

Everyone stayed silent, and Baz couldn’t feel his limbs.

“Okay, good.” Penny turned to him. “Baz, ready?”

Baz nodded wordlessly, and withdrew his arm from Simon’s. He started to walk towards the gates, but felt Simon grab his hand and pull him back. 

He couldn’t breathe as he stood back, looking expectantly at Simon.

“Be careful. I don’t want to find another roommate.” Simon murmured, looking down as he shoved his muddied shoe into the dirt

Baz cleared his throat. “Likewise. Not that I wouldn’t mind a roommate who knew how to operate a washing machine, but… On second thought, I take it back. Be as reckless as you please.”

Simon snorted and pushed him away, and Baz gave him a slight smile before racing to the gates.

---

“We’re on code orange. Send in Snow and Niall.” Baz whispered into his headpiece, crouching on top of the second layer of outer walls to Mage’s mansion. 

“Orange” meant there were four to five guards blocking the entrance, and there were only four, so they were sitting on a mellow code orange, nearly yellow. Baz waited less than a minute before he heard heavy thuds behind him.

Startled, he turned to see Simon and Niall clumsily hopping the first gate. He let out a tense sigh and hopped down, turning to Niall.

“Are you two complete morons?” Baz hissed, “You need to be silent.”

Niall rolled his eyes and fished three bombs out of his bag, starting to ignite them. 

“Hey,” Simon whispered, and gave Baz a stiff smile.

Baz shushed him as Niall passed them each a bomb.

“On three.” Niall mouthed and held up his fingers.

Baz and Simon nodded.

One.

Two.

Three.

They hurled their bombs over the wall along, hearing exclamations and yelps before a loud explosion. 

Simon, Baz, and Niall put on their masks as quickly as they could. Simon went over to the door of the second wall and pressed a nearly hidden silver button, granting them access through the doors.

“Okay, first, let’s locate Mage’s office. He’s most likely to be in there, and after that we can check the laboratories. Last is his chambers.” Baz reminded them.

He went to turn on his headpiece to inform everyone else to come in, but it wouldn’t turn on. He whacked it a few times before taking it off.

“ Fuck.” Baz cursed, turning to Niall. “Can you tell Penny to send everyone in? My headset won’t work.”

Niall nodded and fiddled with his headpiece for a few seconds before taking it off and inspecting it. “Uh… We have a problem.”

Baz’s stomach sank. “ What?”

“The signal is gone.”

“How is it go- ” Baz gasped as he felt a sharp pinch in his calf.

He turned to look at it, but found himself falling to the ground, unable to move his body.

Above him, he heard Simon and Niall cursing, and then, two thumps next to him on the ground.

Just before he slipped away, he heard his mother screaming at him to get up, to get out. He tried to tell her he couldn’t move , but he was already gone by then.