Work Text:
BAZ
Simon’s been making TikToks. Or TikTok videos. Or whatever they’re called.
It started when he and Shepard filmed each other’s perspectives of London, Simon’s as a poor orphan boy and Shepard’s as an American who had never left the midwest. They did it on the London Eye to make it even more ridiculous, then did follow-up videos by popular demand on the Tube, in the Tower of London, on top of a double-decker bus, crossing Tower Bridge, and naturally in front of Parliament.
And it was funny. Of course it was; Shepard has a wicked sense of humour and an incredible eye for detail, and Simon is…well, he shines through the screen, his grin and persona electric. Shepard has a massive following on TikTok, making videos of his many alleged cryptid sightings, and his followers kept asking about the golden boy with the bronzed hair standing next to him in more than one video.
Some assumed he was Shepard’s boyfriend (I scoffed at those comments), while others thought he was his personal tour guide, and most certainly some kind of creature or another. (Crowley, imagine if he had let his wings out during the videos? Those people wouldn’t have even blinked an eye.)
Naturally, Simon was cajoled into making his own account; Shepard has helped promote him, and now he’s up to over 18,000 followers.
It’s mind blowing, really, that @SimonScones621 could garner that much attention for doing things like: baking and eating scones, eating at every chippy he passes, and touring pubs with Shepard rating different ales and ciders. You know, the things he generally does on his own. Now it’s just being filmed for the masses.
I understand that Shepard somehow makes a living off of doing this—sometimes I wonder why I even bothered trying at school when I apparently could have just eaten in front of thousands of people everyday and gotten paid for it.
Simon’s usually not one for the TikTok dances, though. He does very few lip syncs or viral challenges. But when I walked into the flat after getting out of work early this afternoon, I heard the unmistakable sounds of one Meghan Trainor’s “Made You Look” coming from the office.
Yes, the song is undeniably catchy. When no one’s around, I find myself singing into the dish brush, the hair dryer, or my toothbrush, “...but even with nothing on, bet I made you look. I made you look!” It mentions almost all of my favourite brands, so how could I not love it?
I peek around the corner, and I have to hold back my laughter at what I see. Simon has dragged multiple accessories out of my side of the closet. At the moment, perched in front of his mobile mounted on a tripod in front of a ring light, he’s wearing my Versace scarf, the distinguishing black and gold silk flung around his neck as he breezily throws his arms in the air and shakes his hips back and forth to Meghan singing, “I look good in my Versace dress.”
On the loveseat next to him, I spot my maroon and navy Gucci tie, my Louis Vuitton crossbody, and Simon’s pink Adidas hoodie.
He stops, leans forward, and presses something on his mobile, presumably to stop the recording. Then, he starts stripping off his shirt, flinging my scarf to the floor, and quickly changes into a plaid flannel pyjama shirt.
“What are you up to, Snow?” I ask, finally stepping forward.
“Ahhh! Baz! Shit, you scared me,” he says, jumping a mile. “What are you doing home already?”
“Left early to stop at Waitrose to pick up some things for the luncheon at work tomorrow. And you are doing…what, exactly?” I know exactly what he’s doing; I just want to hear him say it.
“Oh! Well, umm,” he says, scratching at the back of his head, “I was just erm, borrowing? Some stuff of yours?”
“For…?” Say it, Simon.
He hangs his head. “I was meffin a Tiftom,” he says, trailing off inaudibly.
“A what, now?” I ask, cupping my hand around my ear to tease him.
“I was making a TikTok. To Meghan Trainor. Okay? You know, ‘I can put my Gucci on…’ and all the other designer clothes that of course you own, and I feel like my followers might uh, I don’t know. Enjoy it?”
I nod. “I see.”
“It’s the most popular song on TikTok right now,” he adds, because apparently he feels the need to justify his behaviour to me. This makes me feel only slightly awful.
“Alright, you saw it, yeah?” he says sheepishly. “Are you going to make fun of me? Tell me to leave your stuff alone?”
I think for a moment, my fingertips tapping against my lip. “No,” I say, pushing myself against the doorway and walking fully into the office. “I think,” I say, picking up my Versace scarf off the floor and wrapping it around my head, “that I have a couple more pieces for each designer. One for each of us?”
Simon looks like I hung the moon. He reaches up and grabs my face, kissing me with a big smack. “Yes Baz! Oh my god! Wait, do you know the dance? Here, let me show you—”
“I know the dance, Snow.” I begin to sway back and forth, one hand on my hip, then run my hand up and down my arms like I’m rolling on elbow-length gloves, ending with a little shimmy.
Simon laughs. “Not bad, Baz, not bad.”
“Not bad, Snow? I’m fucking brilliant and you know it. Now, run and grab me my grey and white Louis Vuitton sweatshirt, you nightmare.”
_____
Which is how I end up co-starring in Simon’s most-watched TikTok to date. When I watch the video even now, I smile unabashedly. I look amazing, Simon looks like the perfect counterpart to me, and quite frankly, we’re fucking adorable.
There, I said it. (I mean it, too. I don’t care that I’m so disgustingly in love that I’d reduce myself like this for another human.)
I decided to wear my Burberry sunglasses for the shoot. (I don’t own any Gucci, Louis Vuitton, or Versace sunglasses, something I plan to rectify after lunch tomorrow with an afternoon trip to Harrods.) Simon is wearing the accessory-version of all the designers (Gucci tie, my Louis Vuitton bag, the Versace scarf), and I’m wearing all the actual clothing (Gucci button down, Louis Vuitton sweatshirt, Versace sweater).
It takes six different cuts and six different outfit changes (if you count being topless an outfit change) to make the video in its entirety.
It’s all ridiculous, but I somehow manage to keep a serious face throughout the video (one of the requirements, but I’ve watched enough versions of this dance to know the expectation).
My resting bitch face is fierce; I don’t think Simon’s is quite as serious, but I know he’s trying, and the finished look with us side by side, black and bronze, me full-on dressed in designer clothes, him with my accessories dripping off of him, makes me feel stupidly fond.
“Damn—we’re really good looking, Baz,” Simon says while he edits the video. “And…posted.”
We’re still in our hoodies from the last cut, Simon in pastel pink, me in my Lululemon pullover. “Even with my hoodie on, bet I made you look!”
“I made you look!” I sing back.
“Yeah you did.” He walks over and wraps his arms around my waist. He tilts his head back for a kiss. I lean down into him, breathing him in, feeling his warm lips against mine. He’s all pink and soft all over and I just want to collapse in a ball with him on the couch and never get up.
“Takeaway tonight?” I say. “I’m not up for cooking. All that dancing wore me down, I’m afraid.”
“Thai?” he asks, letting go of me and walking out of the office and into the kitchen where the takeaway menus are stashed.
“Whatever you like, love.” I slip my mobile out of my pocket and check Simon’s profile. I watch the video of us again in disbelief: I did that. It already has 1,242 likes and he posted it three minutes ago.
“Simon, are we going to break TikTok?” I ask, following him into the kitchen.
“Don’t think so, babe; that honour’s reserved for a Zach King video that got like, 2 billion views or something.”
“What on Earth was the video of?” I imagine it’s something breathtaking, like scaling Everest solo, or spotting a white rhino in the wild. But no.
“He’s pretending to ride a broomstick dressed in a Gryffindor robe,” Simon answers.
“You’re kidding me. What even is this life, Snow?”
“Don’t ask questions like that if you don’t want to really know the answers.”
We place our order and sit back on the couch to wait, watching the video a few more times. I text it to Mordelia and Fiona, and they both promptly respond as expected (a dead eye emoji from Mordelia, a “you two are fucking wankers, you know that?” from Fiona). I roll my eyes, then settle in next to Simon.
He’s warm and soft. I pull the sherpa blanket up around us both and snuggle in next to him, getting into his nest. He’s still scrolling through his mobile, laughing at the videos on the screen. I watch his face light up with delight when he sees something that strikes his fancy.
I watch him, as he watches others, watches us (again—how many times now?), talks about plans for his next video.
I remember he couldn’t get off the couch, once, when he laid here alone. I close my eyes to the sounds of his videos scrolling by. I dream of making another video together, but I don’t tell him that.
We really do lead a charmed life.