Work Text:
Simon
1…
I take a deep breath and let my feet hit the sand. The car rests in the lot behind me and the grass that separates concrete from the beach has finally ended.
2…
I bend down and undo my laces, slipping my shoes off and placing them in my bag. If I wait any longer they’ll be ruined and I’ll be getting sand out of the shoes for months. (I try to be conscious of the birthday gift. Baz would kill me if I got dirt where it doesn’t belong.)
Don’t think Shep would mind much, however.
3…
I bury my toes under the sand, letting them get used to the sensation. From socks to sand.
It’s freeing, I guess. Sand between my toes, breeze blowing against my curls.
I hear laughs in the distance. (Probably the party.) (I’m the last to arrive.)
4…
I pause, wondering briefly why I’m counting steps in my head.
“Take ten steps towards the water,” Baz had said. “Then take a left. You’ll hit the festivities eventually.”
There was laughter in the background, amplified through the speaker.
Penny shouted “Is that Simon?”
“Get here soon,” Baz whispered. “Please.”
I smile briefly, thinking of Baz in distress at the party. Shepard’s probably discussing the importance of always carrying a roll of washi tape with you.
(I think it’s only come in handy for him.) (He’s broken his glasses more times than I could count.)
5...
Baz said ten steps. But knowing how fucking long his legs are it’ll take me fifteen.
I’m just about to call him to say I’m here, when I hear footsteps coming closer.
“About time, Snow,” a voice drawls to my left.
I look up to see Baz walking closer. Must have spotted me from where he was and decided to help save me. (Or to just escape the inevitable shenanigans Shepard’s causing.)
“Sorry, work,” I explain weakly. He wraps his arms around my waist, putting his chin on my head. (Wanker. Always using his height advantage.) (The slight incline only makes it worse. Making the three inch difference more like five or six.)
“I like your shirt,” I say softly, kissing the spot where his neck meets his chest.
We’re matching today. (Could only find so many hawaiian shirts on such a short notice.) Red, pink flowers, some green leaves. Baz said it’d look good on my complexion. Begrudgingly ordered himself the same thing, although he said he’d look better in green.
But, from where I’m standing, with his shirt buttoned to right below his sternum, he’s the one that’s stunning.
He hums, choosing not to respond to my compliment, holding me close.
There’s a soft breeze behind us. The sun hangs low in the sky. (Nearly sunset.)
I close my eyes, succumbing to the scent of the ocean and Baz.
It’s been a while. (Longer than it should have been.) But life has a habit of getting away from us.
Baz had uni. I had a life to get sorted and to live.
We’ve hardly had the time to do things like go to the beach, throw birthday parties, or even just let loose. (Shepard’s words, not mine.)
I hear the sound of footsteps on sand, and I sigh, letting my eyes open again.
“I found them!” A voice shouts from the distance. “They’re being gross on the beach!”
Baz laughs, leaning back.
It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him in a while. His hair’s loose, soft waves hitting his shoulders. He’s got a bit of sunscreen on his nose (the sun, he hates it. But he puts up with it for me. Says it enhances my freckles.) (I’d complain but then he takes the time to kiss each and every one of them. So I don’t mind much.)
“We should probably join in,” he mutters, kissing my forehead. I nod, letting him guide me towards the music playing from speakers. I catch only two words: boat drinks.
Agatha’s back is turned to us, having already announced our presence to everyone else. (Penelope and Shepard.)
Shepard’s wearing a green hawaiian shirt opened to reveal a grey shirt underneath. He’s got three pairs of sunglasses on his head, all resting on top of each other. There’s a giant smile on his face as Penny takes the one on top, and puts it on herself. She’s got a yellow hawaiian shirt on, flowing around a lilac dress.
Agatha hands me a drink. It’s green, salt on the rim.
“Simon!” Shepard shouts. He stands up from his fold out chair, sunglasses falling off his nose, scattering across the sand.
He’s tipsy. I’m sure Baz is thinking how boring it all is. But when I look up, as Shepard squeezes me within an inch of my life, he’s only smiling.
Penny, now resting in another chair, is doing the same.
It’s nice to see them smile so much without abandon.
Agatha’s lying on a towel in the sand next to a speaker. There’s a song playing now about how it’s five-o-clock somewhere.
When Shepard initially said his birthday party was Jimmy Buffet themed, I wasn’t sure what he meant. It seems like it’s vaguely beach-ish, and an important emphasis on margaritas.
All I knew is I needed shorts and a hawaiian shirt.
But now, I realize, the music has to be on theme too. (It’s not bad. It’s calming.)
“Happy birthday, Shep,” I laugh. He hits my back a couple of times before returning to his spot next to Penny.
Baz comes up to me again and sticks a tiny umbrella in my drink. “For protection.”
I frown. “From what?”
“The elements, Snow.”
I look up at the sky. “What elements? It’s perfectly—”
“Just accept the umbrella, Simon!” Agatha says loudly from her spot in the sand. “It’s about the aesthetic.”
“Yes,” Baz steps closer to me, margarita held high. “The aesthetic, Simon.”
I smile up at him. “Where’s yours then?”
He rolls his eyes and brings his arm around my shoulder. “I’m aesthetically pleasing enough without it.” Then he ruffles my hair in his fingers.
We laugh, I accidentally spill some of my margarita, and we settle in the sand as a song plays.
Wastin’ away in Margaritaville…
I’m not sure where Margaritaville is. Shepard says it’s more of a feeling than a place, and that we can create it whenever and wherever we’d like.
Baz mutters about how that means we could be inside instead right now.
Shepard ignores him, and instead begins to tell a story about a birthday he shared with a centaur in Montana.
Laughter continues to fill the air as the sun sets, enveloping us in darkness before we begin to light a few tiki torches Shepard brought.
I begin to feel it.
The air of Margaritaville.
It’s warm. Relaxing. I’ll be finding sand in my pants for days.
But it’s wonderful.
I let my head rest on Baz’s shoulder and close my eyes.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I look up for a moment and see Baz’s eyes meeting my own.
There is a light, in your eyes, in your eyes…
I decide, as Baz leans in for a kiss, that maybe this Jimmy Buffett guy’s not too bad.