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“Snow!”
Simon pops his head out from behind the door. “Yeah?”
“No, Simon, it’s snowing!” Baz laughs
Simon runs over to the window of their flat and gasps at the snowflakes falling gracefully from the sky, painting the world white and soft. Baz watches Simon gaze in awe, and even though he’s witnessed the snow many times it’s still just as mesmerising.
The face that Simon makes is like a child being presented with sweets, or a puppy whose owner just arrived home. It’s utterly adorable and Baz could bathe in that expression for eternity.
“Wicked,” Simon breathes.
Baz fills the kettle and pulls out two cups (Simon chose them, and they’re obnoxiously red since apparently he can’t work to a theme).
“Want a cup of tea, love?” Baz asks. His collection of teas is vast, ranging from the classic English black tea to strange and unusual fruity flavours like mango and cream.
“It feels like hot chocolate weather,” Simon asserts, fetching cocoa and sugar from the cupboard beside him.
“Good idea, I’d like one too actually,” Baz agrees and puts a teaspoon of each into the mugs. Simon is still enchanted by the falling snow and he drags their big armchair over by the window so he can sit and watch while the water boils.
Penelope went out with Shepard earlier in the day, and Baz hopes they brought enough warm clothes in this weather. Hopefully she wore some thick stockings underneath the short skirts she insists on wearing - last time she was sick it was not a pretty sight.
Baz brings over the hot chocolates to where Simon is sitting, handing one to his boyfriend.
“Move over,” he says, and scoots into the other side of the armchair, thighs flush against each other. (Obviously it was made for only one person, and when you had to incorporate Simon’s massive wings it was a bit of a squeeze.)
“Mmm, squishy,” Simon chuckles, leaning into Baz’s side. He blows on the liquid in his cup and then sips, sighing at the warmth. “This is delicious.”
Baz hums in agreement and drinks slowly. There were still stray Christmas decorations around from a few days ago (the tinsel drooping off the antenna of the house across the street was a mystery in itself), though the snow was covering it all in a thick blanket.
The snowflakes looked like they were dancing in the breeze, twirling around and spiralling down to earth. The heat of Simon warms Baz’s eternally frigid body (he’s literally a furnace), and the warm drink brings a little pink to his pale cheeks.
“Wonder how Penny is doing out and about in this weather,” Simon murmurs, recalling the temperature being below zero degrees last time he checked.
“She’s very resourceful, she and Shepard are probably hunkered down out of the cold somewhere,” Baz says.
“Hmm.”
As they sip their drinks the snow eases to a trickle and Simon is itching to go out and experience it first hand. He downs the rest of the liquid and stands up (with some difficulty - they’re really squashed into the armchair), taking Baz’s hand and tugging him up too.
“Come on, let's go outside!” he urges.
Baz groans. “I just washed my hair! I don’t want to get dirty snow in it.”
“If it’s dirty then why does it taste so good?” Simon questions.
“Have you - don’t eat snow, Snow! You don’t know where it’s been!” Baz exclaims.
“It’s been in the sky, duh.”
“Oh my god, why am I dating you,” Baz says, grinning despite himself.
“You love me. It’s endearing, no? That’s what you say about all the other stupid stuff I do,” Simon claims.
Baz rolls his eyes. “It’s your own fault if you get sick.”
Simon beams. “So are you coming out with me or not?”
“I already came out,” Baz says, deadpan.
“You know what I mean.”
Baz gives in (he truly is irresistible). “Okay, fine.”
Simon excitedly gathers a woolly hat, scarf, gloves and jacket for each of them, throwing the garments on as quickly as possible. The big coat obscures his wings for the most part from prying neighbours. Baz chuckles quietly to himself, it was liking dating a puppy, the way he was so thrilled about going outside.
The golden haired boy throws open the door as soon as they are dressed and runs out into the open air. He dances around in the snow, wind whipping his hair and scarf around.
His tongue sticks out to catch snowflakes on it, letting them melt in his mouth. Baz sighs exasperatedly, but catches the snow on his hands too. They don’t melt (he’s not warm enough for that) but they do look very pretty up close.
His boyfriend turns to him with a bright, delirious look. He tries to say something but the attempt just turns into splutters about how beautiful it all is. Baz leans against their front door, content just watching Simon run around in the white bliss. (He also doesn’t want his freshly washed hair getting wet.)
There is a sparrow perched on the powerlines above the houses, and as it sits on the line a small shower of snow falls down. Baz is suitably distracted by the birds and doesn’t notice Simon sneak up behind him, with a handful of snow. When a shock of cold down the back of his coat startles him, he jumps about a foot in the air with a small squawk of surprise.
“Snow! What did you do that for!?” he exclaims.
Simon laughs and bolts when he sees Baz’s face turn into a sly grin. The vampire picks up his own mound of snow and throws it at his boyfriend, hard. (Damn his super strength!)
Simon yelps and picks up more handfuls, pelting them with barely any precision. An all out war commences and snowballs are hurled every which way (Baz’s hair takes several hits but he can’t find it in himself to be mad).
The chosen one throws himself at his boyfriend (and ex rival, which makes the competition all the more intense), casting them both onto the powdery snow. They tumble around and kiss despite the snowball battle like the happy boyfriends they are.
Eventually the pair lie still on their backs amidst the snowy warzone, chests heaving.
“I think I won that round,” Baz smirks. (He’s insufferable when he smirks, and so attractive Simon doesn’t know what to do with him - or himself for that matter.)
“I dumped snow down your jacket first though,” Simon bites back.
“It’s not a competition Snow.”
“You just said you won though!”
Baz shrugs. “Indeed I did.”
Simon launches himself back at the obnoxious dark haired man’s torso, catching his mouth with his. Baz kisses him back, hand holding the exposed part of his neck (which is so hot compared to Baz’s freezing fingers), and smiles at Simon’s confidence. He certainly came a long way since the beginning of their relationship.
“Sorry about your hair,” Simon says meekly, as they part.
“It’s okay,” Baz responds, running his hand through the tight bronze curls at the bottom of Simon’s neck. “Should we head inside and warm up now?”
“Mhmm. I have a few ideas that involve warming up,” Simon grins.
“Simon! How crude,” Baz laughs. “Let’s go.”