Chapter Text
SIMON
It’s a hot summer’s day in early June, when Penny invites us all over to her flat.
I mean, I don’t know why I’m saying that like we don’t go over there all the time, because we do. But it’s not usually so formally planned. And Pen doesn’t usually demand us there at a certain time.
Baz is predictably grumbling as we make our way down the road.
“It’s typical Bunce. Of course this couldn’t have waited until evening. Some of us have full busy days. I can’t just drop everything for her at the last minute.”
I spin to face him, walking backwards despite the sun shining in my eyes, so I’m able to properly take in his scowl.
Christ, he looks good in the sun.
“Oh, shut up, Baz. You didn’t have any plans. You’re just grumpy because of the sun.”
He raises his arms in frustration. “Of course I am! I’m a vampire for Merlin’s sake, I should be inside on days like this. Not burning to a crisp in the harsh and yet unforgiving sun of a British heatwave.”
I stop suddenly in my walking, and he’s forced to stop inches from my face so as not to knock into me. His scowl deepens, and I reach up on my toes to kiss the lines between his eyebrows, enjoying how my touch smooths them away.
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, as he drags my lips to meet his. We come crashing together like a wave, and suddenly I’m completely in agreement that we should go home and lock ourselves inside and away from the world.
Unfortunately, both of us are very used to not getting what we want.
“Hey! Simon! Basilton! Detach yourselves from each other for one minute and get up here!” Penny’s voice drifts down from the window of her flat, and Baz groans again as we pull apart.
“Later,” I promise, entwining our hands and pulling him into the building.
“Later,” he echoes, as we make our way upstairs.
Baz is in a better mood when we’ve reached Penny’s, and I smile at him as she aggressively throws the door open and ushers us in.
Shepard’s lying on the sofa by the fan, and he grins as we come in. “Hey!”
“Hey, Shep! Not used to the British heat?” I ask him, flopping down onto the floor in front of him.
“How is it cooler than Omaha, but it feels so much more unbearable?” he laments.
“Humidity,” Baz responds, taking a seat beside me and leaning slightly towards the fan. “And lack of air-conditioning.”
I take his hand in mine again, and I lean my wings back against the sofa cushions, looking up at Penny expectantly. She stands before us all, the smile on her face that I’m very familiar with. It’s her Penelope with a plan face.
“Do you know what this is about?” Baz asks, nodding his head towards Shepard.
“Not a clue,” he says, popping a frozen grape into his mouth from the bowl on the coffee table. I grab a handful myself.
“Right! So,” Penny begins, and I buckle myself in for a long explanation. “Do you know what today is?”
I shake my head. Baz raises an eyebrow. Shepard just grins.
“It’s a year today since we first met Shepard.”
“Damn, that went quick!” Shepard says, reaching out a hand to high-five her, which to my surprise, Penny reciprocates.
“Christ, how did you even remember that?” I ask, offering Baz a grape. He opens his mouth obediently as I feed them to him.
Penny huffs at the question. “Everyone knows things like that, Simon.”
“Do they?”
She sighs again, like this wasn’t a part of her preprepared script. “Baz, when did you first meet Simon?”
“The sixth of September 2008,” Baz says, without missing a beat.
“Okay, that was easy though. That was our first day at Watford,” I reply in defence.
“Baz, what day did you first realise you were in love with Simon?” Penny fires back.
Baz hesitates for a moment, and I take the opportunity to jump in. “That’s stupid. There’s not one specific day, it’s just one of those things that—”
“The eleventh of March 2013.” I stare at him in complete astonishment. He shrugs with one shoulder. “You came back from a mission with the Mage that day. I’d never known relief like it when you walked in a bloody mess at three in the morning.” He pops another grape in his mouth like what he’s saying is nothing, like he’s just commenting on the weather.
I think I remember that night. The Mage felt relentless in fifth year, and I was home from a three-day attempt to harness my magic, after having killed more things than I was willing to think about. I remember seeing Baz in bed after I collapsed through the door, and feeling that overwhelming sense of home, that I’d never felt anywhere, or with anyone, else.
I squeeze his hand tighter, as Penny continues on. He looks over at me, and offers me a smile he reserves for no one else.
I offer him another grape.
“Anyway,” Penny continues, “I was thinking, we still haven’t actually been on a proper holiday together. Like, the four of us. Where we weren’t, like, actively trying to avoid being killed. And I think it could be fun.”
“Sounds good!” Shepard says, supportive as ever. “Where are we thinking?”
Penny pulls a face, and suddenly it’s perfect déjà vu.
“Bunce,” Baz says slowly, and I know he’s recognised the look too. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“What did she do?” Shep asks, pushing up slightly off the sofa.
“She’s already bought the tickets.” I glance over at her to confirm. “Right?”
She’s smiling, and it’s infectious, despite everything. “I mean, Shep’s been on at me to go for ages. And they do say it’s the happiest place on Earth, right?”
There’s a cheer from Shep as he starts punching the air, and a loud groan of disapproval from Baz. I feel instantly like I’m missing something.
“What? Where is it?”
“Disneyland!” Shepard replies, right at Baz mutters, “Hell.”
“Disneyland?”
“Absolutely not, Bunce. I’ve sworn off the Americas.”
“You went last time,” she points out.
He throws a glance at me. “Special circumstances.”
“Anyway, Basil it doesn’t matter, because I booked the Paris one. I’m well aware of your aversion to the United States.”
“We’re gonna have so much fun!” Shepard is off the sofa now, and hugging Penny, who looks quite pleased with herself, honestly.
I glance over at Baz, and let myself grin. Some of the kids at the homes used to talk about Disneyland. I’ve always thought it could be fun to go.
I open my mouth to say something about his annoyed expression, but he just shuts me up with another—slightly melted—grape. I swallow it, and then catch his lips with mine again, smiling in the patch of sunlight that’s shining through the window, and making emo Baz Pitch glow.
BAZ
I’ve always wanted to visit Paris.
The city of love, of allure, a large amount of my sixth-year fantasies took place there. I imagined Simon and I sharing a pain au chocolat by the Seine and tasting sugar in our kisses; climbing the whole way up the Eiffel Tower and watching the sun gently set; candlelit dinners in the evening, the Paris skyline our backdrop and an engagement ring hidden in the dessert.
I’d been to the south of France many times as a child, but we were never permitted to stop in the city, as my father hated the crowds. I knew my Paris dreams were exaggerated and unrealistic, but there was a certain magic to it all nonetheless, that never seemed to fade even as I grew older.
I did not expect my first trip to Paris to involve the Disneyland Paris train, straight from St Pancras International and directly into the park.
Bunce and her American have a crossword book open between them on the table opposite us, while I’ve just been staring out of the window, trying to get a singular glimpse of the city of love.
There’s a child screaming in the seat next to us, and I lean my head on the cool glass. I can handle my own siblings, and I love them to pieces, but I don’t think this hysteria is a good omen for this trip.
Snow, however, seems to be handling it all wonderfully.
“Hey.” I see him lean over and address the little girl, who can’t be more than about seven. “Can you help me with my colouring? I don’t think I have the right colours.”
The girl stops her screaming for a moment to give Simon a withering look. I almost laugh. “You’re a grown up. You’re not supposed to have a colouring in.”
He shrugs. “I asked for one.” That’s probably stretching the truth. They were handing them out to the children as we boarded the train, and I watched as his tail reached out and grabbed one. He only managed to get two crayons though (yellow and blue), so it hasn’t been much use.
The girl stares at him for another moment, and I notice her parents visibly relax beside her now that the noise has subsided.
“You can borrow my red,” she finally says, handing it over to Simon with a sniff.
“Thank you! This will be perfect for Ariel’s hair.”
“I made Ariel’s hair green,” she states, matter of-factly.
“Oh, then you’re much more creative than me. Can I see yours?”
She holds up her colouring for Simon to look at, and he grins at her. “Wow, you’re really good at that! I don’t think mine will ever be that good.”
She laughs, a small and chiming sound. “I’ll help you. What’s your name?”
“Simon. What’s yours?”
“Isabelle.”
“Nice to meet you, Isabelle. You’re a really good artist.”
Simon chatters and colours away with Isabelle for the rest of the journey, and the whole carriage seems to be visibly calmer at the quiet, and there’s a grateful look on her parents’ faces.
I watch from next to Simon, entranced by this side of him I’ve never seen. He’s always been good with Swithin and the girls, but they’ve always just been my siblings, and I had no idea he was this good with kids.
I take his free hand under the table after a while, and try not to let my thoughts wander too much.
(Bronze curls, dimpled cheeks, freckles and smiles and a tiny face unmarred by tragedy.)
We arrive in mid-afternoon and stumble straight out into the bright light and garish music of Disneyland Paris. We’re surrounded already by restaurants and shops, and I already have a headache.
“Please tell me the hotel isn’t far, Bunce.” We’re here for a week, and I may have massively overpacked.
Simon’s had his wings packed away for hours now, and I can see him squirming slightly in his shirt. I squeeze his hand in acknowledgment, and he throws me a grateful smile.
“Not too long!” She glances down at her phone. “Google Maps says fifteen minutes.”
We start walking round the lake, and even I have to admit it is pretty nice. Most people are in the parks at this time, so at least it’s mostly quiet. The weather’s not too stifling either, and I can almost enjoy the gentle heat on my bare arms.
“Shep, have you ever been to Disneyland?” Simon asks as we walk.
He nods. “Once, when I was ten. My mom took me to the Florida parks for a week with some cousins. It was probably, like, the best week of my life.”
“I cannot believe the best week of your life was in a capitalist corporate hellscape,” Penny remarks, shaking her head.
“Bunce, need I remind you that you’re the one that made us all come here?” I point out.
“Oh, you blame me now Baz, but you’ve never been subject to his persuasion powers,” she accuses, pointing at Shepard.
“What persuasion powers could Shepard from Omaha possibly possess?” I ask.
He turns to grin at me. “None at all! I just don’t shut up.”
Penelope nods in agreement. “He’s very annoying.”
We reach the hotel (which is Bambi themed. Penelope Bunce took a vegetarian vampire to a Bambi themed hotel. I’m losing the will.) in just over the predicted fifteen minutes, and check in without too much hassle.
We split up to our rooms, and agree to meet again for dinner and fireworks in an hour.
Simon’s smiling as he uses the Mickey Mouse adorned keycard to open the door.
“You know,” he starts, pushing open the door, “before America, I’d never stayed in a hotel.”
“They’re not always all they’re cracked up to be,” I respond drily, dumping my bags on the bed. “They’re pretty good the first few times though.”
“Yeah,” he sighs, collapsing next to my bags and closing his eyes. “I think I’m still at the ‘impressed’ stage.”
I sit down next to him, and lean over to kiss his forehead. He opens his eyes again and I’m lost in the simple blue of them. (I’m full of cliché metaphors, but I can’t bring myself to care. I’m in bloody Disneyland, for Circe’s sake.) He leans up on his elbow to kiss me properly, and I’m drowning in him. I don’t care where we are, I just care that he’s happy.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.