Archive of Our Own ^beta

Baz looks at me like he’s going to eat me. Like I’m something good enough to devour. (I imagine this is what I look like staring down a plate of scones.)

“Baz—“ I start.

“Simon,” he murmurs

“You don’t want to do this,” I continue. I’m pleading for my life. (It’s too soon. I feel like I’ve only just started.) (Because we have only begun.) (Like, five minutes ago.)

“Oh but I really think I do,” he says. He takes a card from his hand and drops it on the pile.

Draw four.

“Colour’s green now everyone,” he smirks.

I groan, picking up four cards from the stack. It’s even worse he’s chosen green. The only color I don’t have in my hand. (I've got 15 in my hand now. All blues, reds, and yellows.) (Baz has two left, close to winning yet another round.) (Pennys got 6 and Shepard has 8.) (Agatha’s in the other room on the phone with her father. Something about China.) (The country? The kitchenware? Not entirely sure.)

“When do you leave again?” Penny asks.

“Tomorrow, Bunce,” Baz says, dropping another card. (How’d we already get to him again?) “Uno,” he proclaims.

A green five.

I look at the cards in my hands and frown.

How do I have half the bloody deck, yet nothing to fucking put down?

I growl, grabbing another card from the pile. (Of course it’s fucking green.) (Could have used that before this hand.) (Not that I still stood a chance against Baz.)

“I meant what time Basil,” she says. She reverses the rotation and I proudly get to place my one green before Baz sets his final card down. (A wild card. We had no chance.)

“About half past four,” I say, throwing my cards down. “Is dinner here yet?” I ask Baz.

He picks up his phone, opening the delivery app. “Almost.”

“Great,” I lean my head back. “I’m starving.”

“Make sure to feed him before flying. Might eat someone if you’re not careful.”

“Noted,” he replies. I look up and he’s smirking. I want to make a joke about him being more likely to eat someone than I; but I refrain. “We shouldn’t have a problem. It’ll be a short trip.”

We’re going to Paris for a long weekend. A special trip for no special reason at all.

Baz is going to speak French with the locals and I’m going to eat a countless amount of butter. (Ideally attached to several loads of pastries.)

It’ll be marvelous.

“Shuffle, Simon,” Baz says, passing the deck to me. “It’s your turn to deal.”

“Shouldn’t we stop? Food’s almost here.”

Baz looks me up and down. It makes my throat dry. “Afraid you’ll lose again?”

I huff. “Maybe.”

Baz opens his mouth to retort, but his phone goes off.

Saved by the Bell.

He stands up and makes his way toward the door. (Crowley his arse looks good in those jeans.)

“Have you packed any nice clothes?” Agatha asks, sitting next to me.

“Baz did for me. Said we’re going to have a nice dinner if it kills me,” I say, messing with the deck. “There’s a whole garment bag and everything. So it might actually kill me.”

Penny tuts. “You should have gotten your hair cut today. Do you want me to give you a trim?”

I frown. “No? I’ll be fine, Penny. I can get my hair cut when I return. It’s only four days.”

They give each other a look. Like I’m being an idiot.

“What?” I ask, placing the deck back down. Baz comes up behind me and kisses my head before dropping the bag of food on the table.

They both clear their throats. “Nothing,” they chime in unison.

We’re lying on a blanket in the grass. The sky’s dark and clear. My stomach’s filled with bread and pastries.

“Champagne?” Someone asks from above us.

“Non, merci,” Baz says, waving the guy off.

I frown.

“They’re insistent out here, I swear,” he groans, sitting up. “It’s almost at the hour, Snow. Are you ready?”

I look up. The Eiffel Tower stands behind a large fence in front of the lawn. Surrounding us are countless others, with blankets and food and drink. Laughing. Having a great time because they’re in Paris.

“I forget,” I say, reaching forward for a drink. “What happens at the hour?”

Before Baz can answer, I see it myself. The Eiffel Tower, sparkling in front of us. Lights twinkling and shimmering around it.

I hear others on the lawn whisper in excitement. There are whistles.

We watch as one man takes a knee in front of us, asking the woman (his girlfriend, I’d suppose.) (I’d hope.) to marry him.

I turn to Baz to say something cheesy, but his eyes stop me. He’s watching the scene unfold, clearly envious.

I turn back.

I love Baz.

I don’t think I’ve said it (not the love part) (we say that often) but… I want to spend forever with him. Whatever that means, whatever it looks like.

We pack up after a few moments and I’m silent for the walk. There’s a metro not too far from us, the night is nice, and we’re having fun. (I’d spend forever in these moments with him.)

He’s talking about the Louvre. When we need to show up, how he’s already bought passes. Says I need to eat a good meal before we go.

(As if I’d do anything less.)

I love him.

(I think I… want to marry him.)

(No. I know I do.)

We walk into the train and take a seat. It’s not busy; fairly quiet spare a couple of people on the other end.

“You alright, Simon?” Baz asks softly. I nod.

He’s glowing. Positively radiant, even now under fluorescent lighting.

I think back to his look. How his eyes said everything I needed to know as he watched the proposal in front of us. That he wants to. (Get married, that is.) (Why hasn’t he asked?)

I grab his hand. (Were you too afraid, Baz?)

I kiss his cheek.

I’m not surprised Baz figured it out first. That we should get married. He’s always been the smarter one. Always five steps ahead of me.

I want to ask him. (Now.) (I want to ask him now.) (But. He deserves better right?) (Not a proposal on the heel of another.)

I send a text to Penny.

When we arrive back at our flat, I’ve got a plan in motion. Penny’s going to go to the store with me tomorrow. Shepard’s going to help me organise the whole thing. Agatha’s going to make sure I don’t fuck it up. (Which, yeah. I’ll need that.) (Thanks Ags.)

It’s going to be perfect.

We drop our bags off at our room, utterly exhausted from the trip.

“I’m gonna piss real quick,” I state, pointing towards the toilet.

“Thanks for the announcement, Snow. I’ll be sure to include it in the post about our holiday,” he says, walking out of sight.

I piss and wash up, vibrating with excitement about my recent decision. (I’m ready.) (I’m really ready.)

I go back to the kitchen to grab the food we picked up on our way home, watching as Baz sorts it. He swats me away, “Give me a second and I’ll bring it to you.” I hold both hands up in defeat walking back to the table. (No sense in arguing with him.) (Best to start this future engagement off right.)

A second later Baz makes his way to the table, containers in each of his hands. “Here,” he says, handing me my burger.

“Thanks,” I murmur, watching as he takes a seat. I unwrap it quickly, taking a bigger bite then I know is necessary. (Baz grimaces, so I know it’s particularly gnarly.)

“Simon, your wrapper,” Baz points. I wave him off. I can clean it later. “No, Simon, it says something.”

I frown. “Probably just the Maccies logo, yeah?”

Baz rolls his eyes. “Will you look at it you idiot?”

I freeze, mouth full of a second bite. I look down and see something written in sharpie.

Wivarme.

“Wivarme?” I say around my bite.

“Flatten it out.” He looks nervous. (Why’s he nervous?) (Does he think it’s been poisoned?)

Certainly we’d know by now if it were. I’d be dead on the floor.

I put down my burger and gingerly unwrap the paper.

Will you marry me?

I gasp, ready to respond. But, instead, start coughing around my burger. I hear Baz go fuck, and briefly, I panic this is how I die. Choking on food after my boyfriend proposes to me.

(He wouldn’t have even gotten a response.)

(Of course the fucker’s asking first. Like he knew I’d only realised I wanted to do this.)

I feel patting on my back and I try to wave him off. (No, Baz, let me die in peace.) He backs away, letting me cough, slowly getting more air to my lungs.

Baz returns to his seat. He’s concerned, but also clearly anxious. (Fuck. I guess I haven’t responded yet.)

I hold up a finger and reach for my coke, taking a few gulps.

“Baz,” I say. (It’s croaky.) (Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve ruined this.) “You—”

“Yeah,” he says. I watch his eyes make the same look they had in the park outside the Eiffel Tower.

He’s had this planned for a while. Probably saw the bloke on one knee and thought that’ll be me soon.

“Meant to ask in Paris but—” He pauses, looking down at his fingers. I take a drink again. “This felt right. Back here, with you.” He frowns at the wrapper. “Not sure what possessed me to write it on a fucking burger wraper, yet, here we are.”

I can’t help but smile. “You fucking twat.”

His eyes jump back up to my own, brows furrowing together. “What?”

“I only just figured it out. How are you always five steps ahead of me?” I shout. It makes me cough some more and I grab my soda. My throat feels raw. “I’ve been texting Penny and Agatha and Shepard the past two days to start looking for rings and—”

Crowley, I bet they all knew. Had a nice laugh about it, I’m sure.

“Wait,” Baz says, stopping me. “You’re upset I’m asking first?”

“What else would I be upset about?” I ask. “That you asked?” He nods. “Baz,” I move the food out of the way and grab his hands. “Of course I want to marry you. I’d be a fool not to.”

I can feel the anxiety ease up in his system. “You can still ask, you know, if you’d like.”

“I fully intend to,” I say, grabbing the burger again. I take a smaller bite this time, not wanting to leave Baz a widow. (Would he be a widow?) (Is there a name for a fiancé who loses their partner?)

“Hopefully you don’t choke then too.” Baz takes a bite of his burger. His left hand still in my own.

But even if I do, that’s okay.

We have plenty of time to make memories. There’s loads of opportunities for me to fuck things up (and not!) (Emphasis on the not fucking things up.)

We have a whole life to live.

A whole life together.