Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BAZ

“Am I allowed to look at her like that?

Could it be wrong

When she’s just so nice to look at?” - She, dodie

I like to think that it’s me who’d make the first move.

But I’ve already spent years in love with you, doing nothing about it.

You’ve always been more forward.

I subconsciously tried to make you fall in love with me, even though I didn’t fully realize I was in love with you.

I’d been on the Watford football team since I started attending, and I always did well, but I tried harder whenever you came to practice or a game. 

I discovered makeup the summer before third year. I spent the whole summer practising (unfortunately, not everything comes naturally to me). I hoped you would pay me more attention. Sure, you followed me around and talked to me multiple times per day about what I was doing in that instance, but you’d always been like that.

You seem to think of plotting as my hobby. I suppose it could be considered that, taking into account how much time I spend thinking about various ways to 1) make you fall in love with me or 2) convince you to run away from Watford to live in a cottage in the Welsh countryside with me. You also seem to think that I only plot to kill you, which is good for my reputation but not at all what I fantasize or plot about.

We argued every day for five years. It was easy to pretend like I didn’t want to calm you down with a kiss every time you were about to go off.

I kept praying that you would fall in love with me. 

It was fifth year when I realized you probably never would. It was also fifth year when I realized that never stopped me before and it never would. The feelings increased tenfold.

By the end of the year, I was horny, infatuated, disgusted with myself, and furious at you for being so bloody oblivious. I trusted Fiona that her recorder wouldn’t cause permanent harm. The Stainton girl will never speak again.

After that, I stopped provoking you. I didn’t want to risk harming you or you breaking my nose again (boys are the ones recognized for being physically aggressive but girls can be too) (especially you).

I sometimes wish I’d never figured it out (then again, I’ve always had these feelings for you. I wish you didn’t have to be so bloody perfect). It seems nice to live in ignorance like you do. 

I wish I could ignore the fact that you blindly follow the Mage. That nothing can hurt you, not even me. That you’re alive. And I’m hopelessly in love with you.

~~~

Why are you so forward?

It’s not always a good thing, either.

You’re fantastic with your sword (I’d never say that to your face). You leap into battle without a second thought. I’m sure if you were in love with me you would be the one to make the first move. 

But you also confront me all the time about things you suspect of me. It’s quite annoying. 

I sit up. I’ve been lying on my bed thinking of you for the past half hour or so while you’re down in the dining hall.

I walk to my desk and flop down into my chair.

I pick up a pen and a piece of paper and I begin writing. Hopefully this will make me feel better.

Dear Snow,

Fuck you.

Chapter Text

SOPHIE

You’re plotting something, I know it.

When I left for the dining hall, you had that look in your eyes.

I’ve seen it enough times to recognize it on sight.

You looked fascinated, a bit sad, and sort of indecisive (or like you were trying to decide something). 

Most of the time it makes me wonder what you’re thinking about. It also makes me want to comfort you so that sadness goes away, and to help you make that decision. Hug you, maybe. Soothe you.

I don’t know why or how you made me feel like that. Maybe you spelled me.

Crowley, were you doing wandless magick?

I gasp, almost choke on my food, and nearly rocket out of my seat.

“Soph?” Penny sounds alarmed and concerned.

“I- Baz- I think she was doing wandless magic earlier!” I manage to get out. I’m still quite shocked.

“What?!” Penny’s voice morphs into less concern, more alarm. “Wait, how? I wonder if I could convince her to teach me…” She trails off, deliberating something.

“No, you’re not getting it!” Why doesn’t she understand? “It’s not about the magic, it’s about Baz and why she was spelling me and how she learned to do it wandlessly.” I pause. “We should report her to the Mage or the Coven or something.”

“Sophie, this isn’t worth filling out all that paperwork.” Penny says. She’s right (she always is). 

“Well, you could still run a few spells over me to check, innit?” I say hopefully. I don’t particularly like other people’s magick on me, but I need to make sure that Baz hasn’t hurt me or cast some sort of mind-control spell.

Penny casts a few revealing spells ( “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” and the like), but all they do is turn up a half-eaten scone in my pocket and a pencil I’d lost.

Just to be safe, she also casts “Get well soon” and “Good as new” on me. I squirm in my seat as her sage-scented magick washes over me. The bruise I had on my knee has disappeared, but other than that there aren’t any effects.

Penny seems to reach this conclusion before me, but waits for me to refocus before explaining. “I don’t think Baz cast any magick on you, especially wandless. Now I’m curious, though, what made you think she was spelling you?”

“It was almost like she’d- she’d put me under a… thrall? I guess?” I stammer. There isn’t a plausible explanation for this that won’t make Penny react oddly (she reacts oddly to my plausible explanations). 

Penny gestures for me to continue.

“Uh, I was scanning the room before I came down here and she had this look on her face that made me…” I hesitate. Penny should still know this, even if it won’t help. If I’m able to communicate something, I should (that’s what she always says). I take a deep breath and prepare for a quick sentence. “It made me want to comfort her and help her and stop her from worrying.” I rush out. 

I think Penny’s fallen into that “I-may-have-an-idea-what-this-is-about-but-I’m-not-100%-sure-so-I’m-doing-a-few-more-mental-calculations” headspace, so I decide to go back to deliberating why all of that made me feel that way. I’ve never felt like that before.

You’re my sworn enemy, right? We’re going to have a huge battle at the end of next year and it’s going to be very symbolic and you’ll look bloody fit as always— what?

Chapter Text

SOPHIE

“You’re my sworn enemy, right? We’re going to have a huge battle at the end of next year and it’s going to be very symbolic and you’ll look bloody fit as always— what? ”

Okay.

I- I… are you fit?

I’ll consider this objectively. I’ll make a list (I’m not going to think about what this means. Maybe I fancy you. I- the list.)

Things objectively attractive about you:

1) You’ve got very nice long, black hair. It’s probably quite soft, too, but I doubt I’ll ever have the chance to find out for myself. You always keep it out of your face, either with a headband or barrette clips (or you put it up) You’d look even better if you put it up and let a few strands frame your face. No, I’m supposed to be focusing. Merlin. 

2) Well, I suppose you’ve got a nice face. It’s not too round, not too long. You do have these brilliant high cheekbones and they give you an air of elegance and superiority (it’s not fair! You’ve got bloody perfect bone structure, but I’m too hard and too soft and sturdy in all the wrong places. But you? You’re balanced ). Your nose starts high and doesn’t waver. There’s a little crook near the bottom where I broke it third year, and it’s the only imperfect thing about you. 

3) You’ve also got nice lips, I s’pose. They’re quite full, and your bottom lip sticks out just the slightest bit so it always seems like you’re pouting (you’re very good at it when you try, too). Your lips aren’t rosy, but you wear purple and pinkish lipstick sometimes. It looks nice (objectively). 

4) Your eyebrows always look impeccable. They’re just the right amount of thick and dark and arched and Merlin, Morgana and Methuselah when you raise an eyebrow at me it simultaneously makes me want to attack you and- and… snog you into the next dimension… (Okay, well, apparently I may be subjectively attracted to you. I should- the list isn’t finished. I’ll finish the list.)

5) Your neck is almost too long. It’s the perfect length, and no matter how ashy your skin looks, the part where it meets your shoulder looks fucking delectable- objective. Objective attractiveness. Focus, Sophie. Crowley.

6) Your arms are long and lean and muscled (I don’t know what from, but it’s nice to look at). You could probably pick me up. I’d like a piggyback ride or two, honestly.

7) Your hands are… perfect, much like the rest of you. They’re long like your arms and legs, and they’re elegant (how can fingers be elegant? ). Your fingertips are callused from playing the violin, which you’re good at too. You keep your nails short for the most part, but sometimes you paint them matte black or this pretty sky blue.

8) If I’m being honest, I stare at you too much to not notice how (objectively) attractive you are. Okay- list. List. Focus. Uhhh… your torso! You do have a great rack, but I need to move past that. We don’t really change around each other, so I’ve seen you half-naked at most, but your abs are fairly defined (again, no idea what from, but nice). 

9) Your legs are… they look powerful. It’s all the running from football, probably. It defines your calves. You’re taller than me, and most of that is from your legs. You won the bloody genetic lottery. Crowley, I’d be so jealous if I knew that I didn’t want what you have, I want you- focus, Sophie! Fucking focus. 

There are so many more things about you that are ( objectively! ) attractive, but I don’t feel up to naming them.

Okay. So. I find you fit (you are fit, and I may have always thought that and just realized what that implies now. Would it really have hurt past me to try to explain my obsession with you?). That probably explains why you deep in thought completely captivated me. Merlin, I’m thick.

I shake myself out of my thoughts to see Penny staring at me strangely. 

“What is it? I think I’ve figured out why I felt like that and it wasn’t magic.” I say.

“You’ve got an extremely expressive face, Sophie.” Penny sighs. “I think I just watched you briefly struggle with something before accepting and ignoring it and then coming to terms with it. I assume it’s related to Baz?” 

Sometimes I wonder if Penny is telepathic. She could always cast a mind-reading spell, I suppose (I don’t know any but she probably does).

“Penny?” I pause and psych myself up. “I… I think I’m… in love with Baz. I- I know I’m in love with Baz.” I brace myself for her reaction.

“Oh, finally!” Penny smiles and clasps her hands to her chest, delighted.

“You knew? ” I’m aghast. I mean, of course she knew. Aleister Crowley, you probably know. The signs are all directly in front of my face, but I refused to see them like the bloody moron I am. 

“Sophie.” Penny lays a hand on top of mine, eating on the table. “How long have you subconsciously known?”

“Oh, wow. Probably- well, I’d say… most of my time at Watford?” I shoot Penny a sheepish grin. Her face drops into a frown, but then I see hysteria bubble in her eyes and she begins to laugh. “But- Penny, this is important! I may have known, but that was subconscious. I think I may have also subconsciously ignored that, since I was dealing with so much trauma when I first met Baz… I’m not really sure, but I didn’t know know until… well, basically just now.” I’m pleased that I managed to say all that and even more pleased when Penny pulls me into a hug. At first I resist (I don’t like physical touch unless I initiate it, it’s just a thing), but Penny is warm and familiar and comforting. I lean into her embrace.

When I pull back, my cheeks are bordering on damp but a huge grin splits my face. I'm glad to be in love with you, strangely enough (it’s not strange. Anyone would be glad to be in love with you).

“I’m glad you figured it out.” Penny’s still smiling, as am I. “Now, go back up to your room and talk to Baz!”

“What?” Suddenly I’m mentally flailing about. “No, this is just ammunition for her to use against me. And she doesn’t love me back!”

Penny smirks at me (didn’t know she could do that) and says, “Oh, she loves you, Soph. I guess you’re blind to not only yourself but to Baz too?” She ushers me out of my seat, I give her one last short hug, and I wave to her and soon I’m out of the dining hall and headed for my and Baz’s room.

Chapter Text

BAZ

I write letters to you when you’re too frustrating or I’m yearning for you too much.

After I stopped provoking you, I didn’t have an outlet for my you-related emotions. And I needed one (bottling up feelings never ends well, I’ve learned that from experience).

I’ve probably got a hundred or so letters hidden in my desk. You’ve never seemed interested in going through my desk and I decided they were safer there than at home where Vera or Daphne or Father could find them.

My most recent, from this evening:

Dear Snow,

Fuck you.

You’ve said that to me countless times, and though I don’t usually deign to use Normal curse words or phrases, I feel it’s appropriate for me to return the sentiment.

I’m sure you only use it to mean one thing, but the word itself has different meanings. And I intend to express both.

You’re constantly vying for my attention and you’re also exceedingly thick. The reason I can’t stand to look at you isn’t because I’m repulsed by you (I’m repulsed by myself but that’s unrelated), it’s because I can only pine after you for so long before it becomes unbearable. I look at you and I’m reminded of how I love you beyond words, but you don’t love me and even if you did I could never be with you. It hurts.

You’re persistent as well, though. It’s you who starts fights with me over meaningless things (is it that hard to keep the window closed?), so I give you indifferent responses to keep up some semblance of my reputation. Sometimes I just want to scream “Bugger off” at you, though.

If you don’t love me back, I don’t see why I should waste any more time entertaining your poorly-worded insults or your petty attempts at starting a fight with me.

Fuck you.

-Baz

I don’t know why I waste long words on you. I doubt you’d understand them. I’d probably explain them to you if I didn’t have to pretend to hate you.

You can be incredibly frustrating.

That doesn’t mean I’m not in love with you every minute of every day.

Your rage can be quite attractive, honestly.

I just hope you don’t mean the insults you give me. I certainly didn’t mean the ones I gave you. I took the things I loved about you most and said them with venom. It was easy. I hate them because they’re the reason I love you, and I love them because they’re the reason I love you.

Crowley, if I was as obvious about my obsession with you as you are about your obsession with me, everyone would suspect me of being in love with you. Admittedly, part of that is everyone knows I’m gay (you’ve never brought it up, which is odd).

I move from my desk back to my bed to stare at the ceiling and think about you again.

I close my eyes, and I conjure up your voice in my head. I’m quite tired, honestly.

“Baz,” you say gently. “Baz, I’ve got something to tell you. I need to talk to you.”

I sit up on my bed and you’re here, in the room, and that was your actual voice.

“Snow.” I say warily, trying to act like I didn’t almost jump to the ceiling. You’re standing beside my bed staring at me, and I stand up to face you.

“I- uh… okay.” You take a deep breath and another, and I don’t know what you plan on telling me but you’re very nervous about it. “Baz, I think I- I’m… I’minlovewithyou.”

You cup my face in your hands and Aleister fucking Crowley you’re kissing me.

It’s my first kiss, but I don’t think it’s yours.

You’re so warm.

I tug on the hem of your shirt and you fall onto my bed and end up in my lap.

Your height advantage makes it so much better.

Your lips are a bit dry and chapped but I’m finally kissing you and I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.

We break apart for air. Our chests are rising and falling rapidly with breath. 

“That was an excellent first kiss.” I say. It really was.

“Oh, that was your first?” You let out a giggle. 

“I’m in love with you as well.” It feels nice to finally say it to you.

You kiss me again.

It’s brilliant.

SOPHIE

That was brilliant.