Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BAZ

“BAZ! COMPANY!”

Bloody Fiona. I can hear the knocking from the bathroom, and I know it’s Dev and Niall, but she’s in the bloody lounge, for Crowley’s sake.

“DON'T YOUR ARMS WORK ANYMORE?” I shout back. “DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE THAT OLD.”

“Cheeky fucking git. Good thing you’re my favourite.” I can hear her mumbling as she reluctantly heaves herself off the sofa to get the door. I’m technically your only Fiona, but I’ll take it anyway. I guess she is letting me spend the week here while Daphne’s parents are visiting. They’re lovely people, it’s just too much for me to cope with for a whole fortnight. Then again… Fiona isn’t a walk in the park either. Only another two weeks before I'm back in the tower, and have only Snow to deal with. I honestly can’t decide if I’m looking forward to it or not. Or if he’ll even be there. The end of last year was… interesting. And not in a good way.

Before I have time to spiral too much into that vortex, I hear Dev’s unnecessarily cheerful “Alright Fi?” from the hall. I imagine Niall is just nodding, and trying to make himself as small as possible. He finds Fiona intimidating, even though he has at least half a foot on her height-wise.

“His majesty still faffing with his hair?”

Fiona snorts in response to Dev’s rude, but accurate, query, and then I hear the creaking of the sofa as she settles back down.

“Probably. You lot going clubbing?”

“Maybe later. First we’re popping over the river for pizza. Heard about this new spot in Battersea. Apparently they have a mascot. A very hot mascot. Thought it might be a nice treat for Baz.”

Fiona cackles appreciatively, and I can almost hear Niall rolling his eyes affectionately at my cousin. My hair is finally sorted - looking artfully dishevelled can actually take longer than my usual slicked-back style, who knew?

I wait until I’m almost right on top of Dev before speaking. He startles and then gives me a knowing smirk.

“I can hear you, you know. And I’ve already said I’m not walking all that way just to ogle some poor sod in a pizza costume. He can’t possibly be hot enough to warrant that level of exercise.”

He can’t possibly be as hot as Simon, for whom I would walk to the ends of the earth, let alone the other side of the Thames.

Niall finally makes a noise, though it’s an inelegant sort of laugh.

“That level of exercise? Baz, you’re a footballer. I bet you’re just worried that your hair’ll get messed up by the wind crossing the bridge.”

Fiona almost spits out her mouthful of wine.

“Well gentlemen, I think that’s our cue to leave. Before you manage to choke my aunt with your unrivalled social commentary.”

I grab my coat and follow Dev and Niall out into the hallway. Just as I’m about to shut the door, Fiona’s voice calls from the sofa:

“Oi, boyo. Remember to take the stick out of your arse. Makes you more attractive.”

“Fuck you too Fi. Don’t eat all the bourbons.”

I can still hear her cackling as I head down the stairs.

🍕

Despite my comments to the contrary, I am mildly curious about this supposedly hot mascot. Dev has apparently seen blurry pictures of him online and reckons that he’s “just my type”. I’m guessing that means he looks vaguely like Snow.

I find myself hoping that it is because he vaguely looks like Snow, and not because he thinks I have some kind of food kink. I don’t think I have a food kink. Merlin, I hope I don’t. Dev does not need more ammunition with which to torture my fragile ego.

I deeply regret the bottle of Fireball we consumed on my birthday this year that led to Dev and Niall both learning my terrible secret. I can only be grateful that Niall, ever the voice of reason and moderation in our trio, exerts more influence over Dev than I do. More than once has he prevented him from saying something to Snow. Good man.

It’s actually a pretty mild night, and the walk is pleasant. My hair won’t get too messed up, though I start to wonder why I’ve really bothered to put the effort in. I mean yes, it’s a matter of pride for me to be properly groomed and dressed, but am I actually trying to impress anyone? So what if this boy is hot. Is he also queer? Am I going to do anything other than look? Even if he is both queer and my type (highly unlikely), what would that even mean? I’ve been to clubs with Dev and Niall, I’ve tried dancing with fit blokes, I’ve tried to forget Simon. But he’s like the proverbial elephant in the room. He’s constantly in the corner of my mind, stomping about the place, splashing in muddy puddles, waving his sword around like a trunk. Maybe one day he’ll magickally spray water all over me with it. Maybe he’ll spray something else on me. (I’d definitely enjoy it.) My mind is wandering into very interesting territory regarding Simon’s trunk, when I suddenly spot Dev walking backwards in front of me.

“Careful Baz,” he smirks at me, “don’t want to disappear into your own head before you’ve even had a chance to give this bloke your number.”

I slow down and give him what I hope is my most withering look. “And what then, Dev? How likely do you think it is that he’s even queer? And if he is? We’re back at school in a fortnight, what happens then?”

Dev is just looking at me like I’m stupid. It’s an uncomfortable feeling.

“I’m not suggesting that this bloke is going to be your soulmate or whatever. I just thought you could go for a drink, maybe a dance, see where it leads.” He’s stopped walking and is ruffling his hair absentmindedly. He suddenly stops and stares right into my eyes.

“Who knows, perhaps you could finally get laid, then maybe you wouldn’t be so stuck up and mopey over a boy you keep saying is tragically heterosexual and likely to run you through with a magickal fucking sword!”

I’m stopped in my tracks. I’m thinking I should ask him to lower his voice, but something about the look in his face has me stunned.

“For the record, it’s not easy for us to hear that, you know. The bit about the sword. Because yes, I know you’re being literal. I don’t only think and speak in innuendo.”

Niall’s lilt cuts across me. “I’d rather you didn’t bring me into it mate.”

“Niall!” Dev glares at him reproachfully, “you said it freaks you out!”

“The whole idea of being at war freaks me out! It doesn’t mean everyone has to know about it!”

“Baz is hardly everyone!”

“GENTLEMEN!” A startled pigeon coos angrily at me, and takes off in a huff. My friends turn to look at me, Dev concerned, Niall flustered.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Dev’s eyebrows threaten to merge with his hairline, and I think Niall audibly gasps.

Ok. I didn’t think me apologising was that unusual. Perhaps I’m more of a selfish and closed off git than I gave myself credit for.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised. I know I’m bad at… being human.” I stare at the pavement for a moment, at the patches of mossy green creeping in at the intersections of the paving stones. When I look up they’re both still staring at me, but with softer expressions, and I realise I don’t know what to do with that, so instead I stare across the river. We haven’t quite reached Chelsea Bridge, but I can see the smokestacks of the old power station rising above some uninspiring steel and glass buildings.

“I…”

Niall rescues me after a few seconds of silence where I had no bloody clue what to say. His soft voice is gentle. Probably more so than I deserve really.

“Baz. I know you don’t get to choose your family. And you don’t get to choose who you fall for either. Sometimes those two things can be unfairly at odds. And none of us chose to be living in this time, with the stupid war and the stupid humdrum. It isn’t really fair if you think about it.”

“Which is why I usually try not to think about it.” Dev’s voice cuts in in a theatrical whisper, prompting an eye roll from me, and a huff of a laugh from Niall.

“I ALSO KNOW,” he continues louder as if to silence further interruptions, “that you’re dealing with… complications, that Dev and I can’t begin to understand. But despite that, you’re still just an eighteen year old. You’re still a teenager who has a life. It might be a weird life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with it sometimes.”

I finally look at him. Unsure whether or not to bring up the ‘complications’ or not. Wondering if I should go on a rant about the weight of my family’s expectations for me. But his gaze is knowing, and sad. And I think I understand what he’s trying to say.

“None of us really know what’s waiting for us after we graduate. I mean, we don’t really know what’s waiting for us tomorrow morning if we’re going to be all philosophical about it. But we can have a good time tonight. We can make fun of, or drool over, some poor bloke dressed as food. You can give him your number, or not. Dev can eat his weight in pizza, and you can drink an entire bottle of fancy Italian red. And then we go dancing, or we just go back to Fi’s, and annoy her until she gives in and lets us watch Match of the Day reruns.”

I smile, in spite of myself. Dev gives Niall a friendly punch in the arm, and a smile I’ve only ever seen him use for leggy blondes. Wait a minute… Is Dev…?

“Come on Bazzy,” Dev says. “Let’s go be eighteen and stupid.”

After a few seconds they both turn and start walking towards the bridge. I stare dumbfounded at Dev’s back for a moment before shaking my head to clear it. I have to jog a bit to catch up, and then I throw an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Can we watch Labyrinth instead? I always have a strange hankering for Bowie in tights after a good bottle of red.”

DEV

Niall. Eight snakes and a fucking dragon. He’s going to be the death of me. When did he get so clever, and sensible, and fucking CUTE. He’s snorting about Bowie in tights, and even though it’s never particularly done anything for me, the thought of Niall in tights is quite appealing all of a sudden. What in Crowley’s name is happening? I thought there was meant to be just one gay cousin per family?

I think I need to take my own advice and maybe not think about it for now. Just eat pizza, and have a laugh, and not spend the evening turning into someone who pines hopelessly. You know, like Baz.

I tune back into the conversation to find that it’s moved on to music. I let Baz and Niall argue about various old bands that I don’t particularly care about, before joyfully tossing a spanner in the works with my “questionable” (Baz’s word, not mine), taste. That gets us all the way across the bridge, and then a detour into fantasy football gets us the rest of the way there. At which point I stop short, and wonder if I’m seeing things. The pizza place’s hot mascot is indeed very much Baz’s type. And I mean very much.

Because unless my eyes deceive me, the hot mascot is Simon fucking Snow.

Chapter Text

BAZ

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Dev is going to pay for this. And by this, I mean this dinner. That I am going to eat. In the presence of Simon Snow. Who is dressed as the hottest damn slice of pizza I’ve ever seen in my life. This is not ok. I am not ok. Do I have a food kink? I didn’t need to know this about myself. Maybe it’s not food in general? Maybe I just want to eat food off of Simon? (That isn’t actually new information.) How is he pulling this off? He should look absolutely ridiculous. How dare he look so… edible. He’s turning his megawatt smile on all the passersby and handing out what might be flyers. A group of girls who look like scandinavian tourists seem to be asking if they can get a photo of him, he looks adorably flustered by it. The whole thing is just absolutely unacceptable. I feel a strong urge to turn back around and throw myself into the Thames. What in the name of Aleister Crowley is he even doing here?

NIALL

Baz is losing it. I’d think it was amusing if I didn’t know how bad he has it for Snow. It’s reached unhealthy levels of pining to be honest, and I’m starting to think that this night has just presented us with an opportunity to try and make inroads to a truce between them. At the very least. As much as Snow seems to hate him, I’ve often wondered how much of what he says is just learned from the Mage. The same way that a lot of what Baz says comes straight from his family. And knowing how much Baz does to get his attention, (and why), I have suspicions that Snow’s reasons might not be that different. Even if he doesn’t realise it yet.

I think I managed to convince Baz to just be a teenager for tonight. I wonder if Dev and I could join forces to do the same for Snow? Could be tricky, I’m sure he just sees us as Baz’s minions or something. To be fair, we have had a hand in almost all of Baz’s plots to antagonise him over the years. Still, only one year until we graduate, what’s there to lose in trying to get everyone to get over themselves? I turn to Dev, to try and catch his attention, and find him already looking at me. His gaze makes my stomach feel fluttery, but I push it away. Baz’s needs are greater than mine right now.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Dev whispers at me. “Do you think it's some kind of plot?”

I can’t help it, I burst into raucous laughter, startling Baz out of his stupor.

“Oh Crowley,” I wheeze out, “you sound just like him. Is it a plot? I seriously doubt it, you great eejit.” I manage to get my breathing under control again, and say, “he’s allowed to get a job. I mean, I assume he is, since he seems to have one.”

Even Baz has a slight smirk now. Good. This is a good start. I need him calm and on my side.

“Come on Dev, I know you must be desperate for that pizza by now, I can smell the woodsmoke and garlic from here.”

Baz hmms his agreement. “It does actually smell wonderful, I wonder if they do a carpaccio?”

While Baz looks lost in pleasant thoughts about whatever the fuck carpaccio is, I look at Dev with what I hope is a comforting, yet pleading look that conveys my urgent need for him to be his cool and charming self. Well, as close as he ever gets to cool anyway. As for charming… I’m sadly biased, as I’ve found him confoundingly charming since sixth year. He tilts his head like a confused puppy, then gives me one of those roguish smiles that makes me weak in the knees. To avoid his piercing stare I grab his arm and lean into his ear, whispering conspiratorially.

“We can all have a good time tonight if you help me diffuse tension between them. I need you with me on this.”

I pull back to catch his reaction just in time to see his eyes drop to my mouth. A few seconds later he pulls them back to my eyes, and rather breathlessly says: “Yeah. A good time. ‘Course. I’m always with you Niall.”

My mouth is suddenly terribly dry. Oh Merlin. Does he have any idea what he does to me? Magick-forsaken bastard. I clear my throat, and turn to Baz to ask if he’s ready, but find him staring at us with a slightly amused expression and that eyebrow hitched halfway up his face.

Oh Crowley. He knows.

Suppose that’s only fair really, all things considered. I give a sharp nod, and shove my hands into my pockets. Mostly so I’ll stop touching Dev.

“Come along then gents,” Baz says decisively. “I think I hear the Nebbiolo calling me.”

He turns, and with a practiced confidence that he probably doesn’t feel, strides towards the eye of the storm.

SIMON

I thought maybe I was just hungry, or dehydrated, or something, when I first spotted them. Because why in the name of Merlin would Baz and his minions be here? Why did they have to decide to be here this evening, when I have to work? Maybe my brain had decided that it had been too long since I had an encounter with Baz, and this was just a hallucination. Yeah. Totally reasonable explanation.

Except…

Except I don’t have the imagination to hallucinate Baz in those jeans. (Jeans!) Or with his hair all windswept and loose around his face. Smiling and joking with his mates. Actually smiling. Like a bloody human being. I don’t think they’ve spotted me yet, and I’m trying to figure out a game plan while being completely blindsided. (A sudden pack of worsegers couldn’t have thrown me off as effectively as Baz fucking Pitch smiling like that.)

Just then I hear a soft female voice ask if she can get a photo, and now I’m completely flustered. I never know what to say, though the manager reckons it’s good for business as long as I’m ok with it. I mean, sure? Why anyone would want a picture of some bloke dressed as a slice of pizza is beyond me, but, “there’s nowt as queer as folk” as the cook at last summer’s care home loved to say.

By the time that’s over I turn back to see the trio approaching the restaurant. Well fuck. I had hoped that maybe they were on their way somewhere else along this strip. There’s plenty of other places to eat. And Baz probably won’t eat anything anyway, he never does. Well, not never, but I know our menu doesn’t offer salt & vinegar crisps or mint Aeros.

Hmm. Salt & vinegar crisps on pizza? I’m not sure even I’d eat that. Then again…

Merlin and Morgana, they’re practically on top of me. Get it together Simon.

I do not manage to get it together.

“Snow.”

Is it weird that I’ve missed that voice? That hearing my name, said with that twist of haughty amusement, is like the first decent cup of tea after a summer spent drinking it with powdered milk?

I feel completely at a loss. What is he doing here? Why does he look so… normal? Well, not Normal, he’s still kind of grey. But apart from that he could just be some random bloke, out for the evening with his mates. His whole… thing is throwing me off. His hair, and his silky looking shirt, and those fucking jeans.

Merlin, have his legs always been that shapely? It shouldn’t be allowed.

Then I remember the end of term. Agatha. Holding hands. With Baz. It rips me out of whatever spell he had me under. Or maybe he’s finally figured out how to use his thrall? Whatever it was, I pull myself together and adopt a defensive stance. He’s obviously here for some dastardly plot, and fortunately, I’m here to thwart it.

“Pitch.” I say, trying to cross my arms, and then failing because…

Oh that’s right. I’m dressed as a fucking slice of pizza.

DEV

I feel like I’m in a Mexican standoff.

On one side is Baz, looking his unruffled and haughty self. As if seeing Snow here was completely expected, and is not doing anything to him in the slightest. You wouldn’t know his brain had gone completely offline for a minute back there. I can only guess at what he’s thinking right now.

Then there’s Snow. Looking like he’s trying not to explode, and also looking extremely uncomfortable. I guess if I was dressed as food, I’d be uncomfortable having my so-called archnemesis have that to use as ammunition against me. Pity Snow doesn’t realise what his presence here is actually doing to Baz.

I glance at Niall to see what he might be making of this, and I have to suppress a gasp. He’s looking at the unfolding scene with the softest smile on his face, as if he’s seen something beautiful, and the fairy lights in the trees behind us make his red hair glow ethereally.

Fuuuuck. I’m falling hard.

Ok, no time for mooning, Baz needs us.

I manage a small cough, and Niall turns the smile on me. Merlin on a fucking dragon. Is this what Baz feels like when he sees Snow looking happy? I open my mouth, but nothing useful comes out, and the smile becomes an amused smirk.

“I was right.”

NIALL

Dev does the confused puppy look again. Crowley, it’s too fucking adorable.

“You were right? What about?”

“Snow’s face when he saw Baz. That was not the face of someone who hates what he’s seeing.”

His confusion deepens. I take a step closer so I can keep my voice from reaching Baz. Maybe I’m not right, I wouldn’t want to get his hopes up only to crush them.

“When Snow first saw Baz, he looked… kind of awestruck to be honest. Granted, it was a similar look to the one he gives a plate of scones, but since he’s practically in love with food…”

I keep looking at him to see if this is sinking in. I can tell when the lightbulb goes on. His mouth opens in a surprised ‘O’, and he takes another look between them.

“You’re saying that Baz’s feeling’s aren’t unrequited?”

“Weeeeell, not in so many words. I’m not sure that Snow actually realises what he’s feeling. I’m sure he thinks he’s completely straight, and that Baz would be the last person on earth he’d date, even if he wasn’t. But the way he looks at Baz… I think he just needs to be woken up to the idea.”

“And you reckon we’re the men for the job?”

“We’re here. They’re here. Snow hopefully won’t do anything crazy while he’s at work. Seems like a golden opportunity, no?”

He looks uncertain, absentmindedly biting on his lower lip. I remind him of his words from just a few minutes ago.

“You said you’re always with me Dev.”

I watch his mouth as he releases his lip. It bounces back to its usual position, and his lips remain parted, presumably while he thinks about what I’ve said. Then his tongue pokes out for a moment before he takes his bottom lip in his teeth again.

Stop staring at his mouth Niall. Focus.

I drag my eyes up to his. They have a softness in them I don’t think I’ve ever seen aimed at me before. I don’t know what to do with that. And I don’t have time right now to figure it out.

“I did say that. And I meant it.”

His sincerity makes me wish he really meant it the way I want him to. Yes Niall, I’m with you always. For the rest of our lives, just you and me.

Crowley, I’m getting as bad as Baz. Maybe if this works out he’ll put in a good word for me with Dev. But for now, we have work to do. Dev takes one last look between them, nodding slowly. Then his eyes light up in that way they do when he gets one of his “brilliant” ideas.

“Soooo, Operation SnowBaz is a go?”

I can’t suppress an eye roll at the ship name, but he looks so much like an excited puppy who’s been told he’s going on a walk, that I decide to just let him go along with it.

“Operation SnowBaz is a go.”

Chapter Text

BAZ

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for everyone else, a server comes out and shows us to a table before I can have any further conversation with Simon. They give him a bit of an odd look when they see his frown and defensive stance though - I imagine that he’s usually cheerful and polite with the general public. We’ve been given an outside table, and I position myself so I can keep him in my sights, prompting a knowing smirk from Dev. I don’t bother to suppress my eyeroll. It’s his bloody fault we’re here, so I don’t give a toss what he thinks.

I peruse the menu and wine list while the server rattles off the specials, and I can’t help but notice that Dev and Niall seem to be having some unspoken conversation with each other. That’s not completely unusual - they got to have a normal roommate experience after all - but considering my new suspicions about them both, I have to wonder…

Once we’ve ordered, and Dev has excused himself, I round on Niall.

“How long?”

I watch his face pass through several different emotions. I suspect he’s trying to decide whether to come clean or not. If he genuinely doesn’t want to talk about it, I can respect that, but considering he knows too much about my pining, it really only seems fair. He heaves a large sigh.

“I think I properly realised what it was towards the end of sixth year. But it had been creeping up on me for a while before then.”

He looks dejected. I know that look. I see it way too often in the mirror. I look briefly at Simon, and am forcibly reminded of how painful it is to share a room with the person you want most. I look back at Niall. He’s turning his glass of water round and round with a pensive look on his face. Crowley. We’re a right pair.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s hopeless. I know I’ve been rather selfish… well, always. But if you need me to shake some sense into Dev, or have a cry on my shoulder, or listen while you go on about his… whatever it is you find attractive about him…” Here I pause, not being able to think of a single thing that might fit into that category, “then I’m here.”

He gives me a sad smile and says: “are you also able to magickally turn me into a blonde girl who’s currently dating your crush?”

“Pfft. Wellbelove is the type of girl that everyone is supposed to go gaga over. Obviously Dev thinks he fancies her, he thinks he’s straight. But just between you and me, I’ve heard him wax absolutely poetic over Jensen Ackles’ mouth when he thinks no-one except me is listening.”

Niall unfortunately chooses that moment to take a mouthful of water, which is a shame, because at that tidbit he spits it out in a surprised laugh - just as Dev and the server both arrive at the table, the latter with our drinks.

He turns as red as his hair and starts grabbing napkins while apologising profusely. The server just looks amused and tells him not to worry, while Dev’s face runs the gamut from adorably concerned to disgustingly fond. I’m beginning to feel fairly confident that my cousin is about as straight as Simon’s hair.

DEV

I excused myself on the pretence of needing the bathroom, but instead I try to have a word with Snow while Baz is occupied with Niall. He looks at me askance, and while it’s not surprising, I can’t help but wish we hadn’t spent so much of the last seven years being arses to him. It would certainly make this a lot easier.

“Loving the new look,” I say, trying to keep it light.

He just scowls, and says “why are you lot here?”

“I heard the pizza was great, Baz is conveniently staying with Fi close by, so, seemed like a good plan.” I shrug, and give him my totally innocent, don’t know why you suspect me of anything smile. “So which pizza do you recommend?”

“Seriously? If this is some kind of plot…”

I can’t help but sigh in exasperation. “We have lives outside of your cloak and dagger stuff. We like to go out, and eat, and have a laugh with our mates. Believe it or not, I only think about the stupid war when you remind me of it. So yes, seriously. What pizza should I get?”

He gives me a disbelieving look, and then hesitantly says: “I like the meat lovers the best.”

“Course you do,” I say suggestively, shooting finger guns at him. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m insane now. Best make an exit and hope Niall fares better.

I walk backwards for a bit, continuing to smirk at his increasingly concerned face, until I almost back into our server. Then I follow them to the table to find Niall doing a spit-take over something Baz has said. Crowley, even that is endearing.

Now I know how Baz feels when he sees Snow eating scones like a barbarian.

“You good mate?” I say, giving him a few pats on the back. He gives me a thumbs up, but as soon as I sit down he gets up.

“Back in a mo,” he says, his voice still scratchy sounding. I watch him walk towards Snow, head in my hand.

“So, Niall.” I distantly register Baz’s voice.

“No, I’m Dev. Have you had too much already?”

I turn to see him in the act of pouring a glass of wine, his best why are you being obtuse? look on his face.

“Considering how my evening has gone so far, I’d say I’m at least two glasses behind actually. First I get accused of being emo shit, and now I have to witness Simon Snow like… that. I’ve also discovered that my cousin has been secretly pining after our mutual best friend for some undetermined amount of time.”

“I’m not pining! Who says I’m pining?” It’s no good, despite being in his own head so much, Baz still knows me better than almost anyone. Except perhaps Niall.

“Your face does.” He takes a sip, and then closes his eyes and makes a very satisfied sound. “Why haven’t you told him?”

“Because masochism doesn’t actually run in our family. And… because I only properly figured it out this evening.”

“You honestly think it would be painful to tell him how you feel?”

“Says Baz I’ve-been-hopelessly-pining-for-three-years-and-plan-to-take-it-to-my-grave Grimm-Pitch.” I grab his wine glass and take an experimental sip. Ugh. I shudder involuntarily, and then reach for the lager I ordered instead.

“How about a deal? I’ll tell Niall when you tell Snow.”

“You want me to tell Snow you fancy Niall?” The bastard smirks at me. “Done.”

He holds my unimpressed gaze for a second, then turns to find Snow, face now blank. He’s so much better at keeping his emotions off his face than I am, but he does have his tells, if you know how to catch them. There’s one now, confusion.

“What are Niall and Snow talking about?”

NIALL

Magick knows what else Dev said to Snow, but the first thing he says when I approach him is:

“You want a pizza recommendation too?”

“I’ve already ordered, so thanks, but no.”

He eyes me warily, and then says, “are you really just here for dinner? You didn’t come because you knew I’d be here?”

“We heard the pizza was good, and Baz is staying with Fiona just over the river. That was it.”

“Yeah, so Dev said. But Baz didn’t exactly look shocked to see me.”

“Baz is very good at hiding his emotions. If he didn’t want you to know he was completely gobsmacked by seeing you here, then you weren’t going to know.”

He looks almost offended. “I know his faces. I’ve had to share a room with him for seven years. I know him better than anyone!”

“Do you now? So you know he’s feeling put upon by his family to both excel academically and somehow sabotage the Mage’s efforts, and that there’s only one of those things that he’s actually interested in doing?”

He does look slightly taken aback by that, but he rallies with his usual.

“He’s been plotting against me for…”

I grip my nose between my fingers. I shouldn’t have expected anything else, but it’s still frustrating. I don’t wait for him to finish whatever that rant was going to be.

“He’s been doing what his family expected of him. And yeah, he doesn’t like the Mage. But he’s exhausted. We all are to be honest. We’re fucking teenagers Snow! He hasn’t had a normal childhood. Neither have you. Aren’t you tired of the antagonism? Don’t you want to just… have a normal school year? It’s your last chance.”

He glowers darkly in Baz’s general direction. “He started it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to finish it. You could just… not. Baz doesn’t really hate you, you know?”

I’m not sure how much of his actual feelings I should be giving away, but this seems safe.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I don’t think I'm imagining the sadness on his face. Like he wants to believe me, but isn’t sure that he can.

“Concealing his true feelings is a thing Baz excels at, for better or worse. He’s had to.”

He looks straight at me now. And he looks… I’m not sure. Is it still sadness? Concern? Suspicion? I need to avoid him jumping to the worst conclusion.

“And not because he’s plotting. Because his family is… well. They’re not quite fully accepting of him.”

Crowley. I hope I haven’t said too much. Baz’ll be livid. On the other hand, that look on Snow’s face is definitely concern now. I know he has something of a hero complex, but I still don’t think that you care that much about someone you profess to hate. He looks ready to call the Sword of Mages and start swinging.

“What do you mean?”

“I… I’ve said too much. Sorry Snow. I should get back.”

I go to turn, but he grabs my arm. “Is Baz in trouble?”

There it is. No way does this boy hate Baz. He’s completely oblivious to his real feelings.

“Please just think about a truce, maybe? At the very least. I know you don’t hate him either.”

At that he drops my arm and gives me a disbelieving look.

“Who knows, maybe by graduation you might even be friends.”

Maybe I’m imagining it, but I think he might be smiling at that thought.

BAZ

By the time Niall returns I’m already pouring a second glass, even though Dev’s facial expression is telling me it isn’t the smartest idea I’ve had all day. They do have a carpaccio on the menu, and I’ve managed to eat half of it without any accidental fang incidents. I’m celebrating.

“I hope you saved some garlic bread for me,” Niall says as he sits. Then he points at the remnants of thinly shaved beef with scattered pine nuts, a wary look on his face, “what is that?”

“Fucking delicious is what it is,” I say, pushing the plate towards him. “What were you and Snow chatting about then?”

“Just swapping our favourite ‘Pitches be crazy’ stories,” he responds with a totally straight face. It’s Dev’s turn to do a spit-take, though he unfortunately is not drinking water. I check to see that no-one is looking and do a quick cleaning spell on him, but not without catching Niall’s fond amusement.

I ponder my options as we chat about everything and nothing. The night is mellowing out with the seasoning of good food and wine, and even better company. Do I tell them each about their mutual feelings? Do I risk pissing them off to make them happy? What if they stopped trusting me? I don’t really have anyone else. Crowley, that’s a maudlin thought. Maybe Dev was right about the wine. I’m about to call the server over to ask for more water, when a figure approaches the table.

His golden curls are practically a halo with the fairy lights behind him, his face is gorgeously flushed, and his stance is adorably awkward. I can’t help myself. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind - and somehow manage to save myself by trying out my fledgling Italian.

“Sei così ingiustamente attraente.”

In vino veritas indeed.

Simon tilts his head to the side, and then says, “I prefer it when you insult me in English. At least then I have a fighting chance of thinking up a comeback.”

Despite his words, he’s not scowling, and he doesn’t even sound angry. He’s holding some papers in his hands, and he offers them to us.

“I have to go, my shift is over now. But I thought… if you liked the food… well…”

At this he frowns, drops the papers on the table and stuffs his hands in his pockets, studiously avoiding my gaze.

“Vouchers, in case you wanted to come back. I’m here every evening for the next week. So…”

He just trails off, gives Niall a firm nod and Dev a slightly uncertain one. Then he looks right at me. Blue eyes burning me into a molten puddle. I can’t do anything but stare back, mesmerised. Then the nightmare winks at me. Fucking winks. And then he just… walks away.

What in Crowley’s name just happened?

Chapter Text

SIMON

After the shitshow at the end of term, I’d had some hope that I wouldn’t be stuck back in a home this summer. But no, the Mage is nothing if not consistent. At least in his treatment of me. Does that make me sound ungrateful? I’m trying not to be, but I had really hoped for something different this summer. At least this home is fairly relaxed about curfews for us older lads. It meant I could get a job without worrying about having to be back by 7pm.

The job is… well… maybe not what I’d ideally wanted when I applied with the new pizza place. I’d kind of hoped for a kitchen position, or even delivery. Could’ve been good to be running about the place, getting my energy out, making sure people get their food. You know, being helpful.

“You’re a golden retriever with an inflated hero complex Snow.”

That I am, Baz. You posh twat. I was starting to think that he had a point, and that I should embrace it. Maybe those daytime talk shows I sometimes see on the common room telly have been rubbing off on me.

Or, maybe after being abducted by the humdrum and feeling closer to death than I think I have in my entire life - not to mention absolutely terrified for Pen - I’ve found it easier to shrug his snide comments off when they inevitably pop up in my head. In any case, it’s easier not to get riled up when he isn’t right in my space.

I can still see him in my head obviously, the proverbial elephant in the room. Except that he’s more like a jaguar than an elephant. He would never stomp, or take a mud bath, or try and hug you with his trunk like I’ve seen on the nature programs. Far too civilised. He’s all grace and poise. Slinking round the place with his stupid legs, and his hair, and his eyebrows. Waiting in the shadows to pounce when you least expect it. Wafting that poncy cedar and bergamot smell everywhere he goes. All my clothes smell like it for a bit at the start of the summer.

They don’t anymore. I… kind of miss it actually. Huh.

Anyway. Pizza.

Yeah, so it isn’t the ideal job, but it is a job. And I get paid actual money and get a free pizza (of my choice!) at the end of each shift! I mean, score, right? It just means that I have to wear the costume. Sorry, I mean, uniform. And I felt very very glad that no-one from school was likely to come out to Battersea just to eat pizza. Because, well. I’m not sure that I make a particularly good-looking pizza. S’all I’m saying.

(I had kind of hoped that Penny might somehow hear about it and come over to say hi. But I never expected that Baz would’ve. I mean, why would he? It’s not like I wanted him to.)

Then last night happened.

I puzzled over it all the way back to the home. I went over the conversation with Niall as I snuck into my shared room, trying not to make the bunk creak too much as I got myself comfortable. I fell asleep with the memory of Baz’s soft and open face staring at me, as if he had been struck dumb by mine.

To be honest, I’m still not sure exactly what happened. I’m half convinced that I might just have had a very vivid dream. A dream where Baz was a totally normal bloke, chatting and laughing with his mates, looking happy and relaxed. A dream where Dev and Niall both spoke to me without condescendingly calling me ‘Chosen One’. A dream where I had time to think about whether or not it’s worth my time and energy to keep being a thorn in Baz’s side, when it’s possible we might be able to become friends instead.

A dream where I could steal glances at Baz without him sneering in my direction, and I could appreciate how lovely he looks when he isn’t all wound up and pissed off.

Oh. Um…

Look, Baz is just attractive ok? It’s an undeniable fact. Even Agatha thinks so.

And if it was just a dream, then I don’t have to feel weird about the fact that I told him I was working every night this week. Or about the fact that I gave him vouchers, which was basically a badly disguised “please come back and see me”.

And I wouldn’t have to lay here, wondering why in the name of Merlin, Morgana, and bloody Methuselah, I fucking winked at him.

What was I thinking?

“Thinking Snow? Well, that would be a first.”

There we go, that’s more like it. That’s the Baz I know. I clearly wasn’t thinking. It probably was all some plot, and now they know where I’ll be all week, and…

I stare forlornly at the bottom of the top bunk.

They really looked like they were having a good time. Enjoying each other’s company. Just… being.

I wonder what that feels like?

BAZ

Dev and I are playing our weekly tennis game at the club, and although I’m making a valiant attempt to keep up my winning streak, I'm terribly distracted by the memory of Simon winking at me last night. Dev is taking full advantage, and I’m not going to hear the end of his victory crowing for at least a decade. Maybe he’ll even have it etched on his gravestone.

“Advantage! Game Dev!” He does a ridiculous little hip wiggle and waves his hands in the air. “That makes it 6-4 to me Bazzy.”

I drop my racquet on the ground and lower myself to join it.

“We going to best of 5? Or are you willing to concede?” He asks, smirking at me. I’m gratified to find him out of breath, at least I’ve been giving him somewhat of a challenge.

“Well, that depends. Are you willing to confess to Niall?”

“Aleister fucking Crowley Baz! You’ve known for less than 24 hours and you’re already being impossible about it! How long have I kept your bloody secret, huh?”

He’s right.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just a sore loser.”

“Wow. Snow’s little farewell gesture has really knocked you for six. You’d never have admitted that if I’d kicked your arse last week.”

He’s standing over me now. Very kindly in the exact spot he needs to be so that the sun isn’t in my eyes when I look up at him.

“I just…” I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.

“The great Basilton Grimm-Pitch is rendered almost speechless because an attractive man winked at him. If I’d known that would work I’d have done it ages ago.” He makes a show of holding his chin while adopting a serious thinking face. “Oh wait… I have done it. And it didn’t work. Because I’m not the boy you’re hopelessly in love with.”

I must look very pathetic right now, or perhaps he feels bad for beating me (unlikely), because he doesn’t make any more quips or jokes. Just holds out his hand to help me up. Then he pats me awkwardly on the shoulder and says, “maybe you need a drink”.

🍕

About half an hour later we’re sitting on the club’s terrace with some kind of iced tea, and I’m still trying to articulate my jumbled thoughts.

“I guess… I just never allowed myself to even imagine a world where Simon didn’t hate me. Because as long as we were enemies, I could keep my distance.”

Dev snorts inelegantly. I give him the eyebrow.

“Sorry, I’m just laughing because the idea that you have ever kept your distance from Snow is absolutely laughable. You two have no idea how not to crash into each other.”

I hate it when he’s right.

“I’ve tried, but he’s like the fucking sun. With this immense gravitational pull. I can’t help but orbit around him.”

I tip my head back and close my eyes so that I don’t have to see whatever face Dev might be making at that ridiculously pathetic statement. Just thinking about Simon maybe, possibly, not hating me - maybe, possibly, even liking me - makes me feel untethered. I tighten my grip on the wooden arms of the chair, feeling the weathered grain beneath my hands. I take a deep breath in and pick up the scents of grass, tea and mint, a hint of tennis balls, Dev’s spicy cologne, and something floral, and feminine…

Oh Crowley. I recognise that fragrance…

DEV

“Agatha!”

I’m being a little too loud, but I suspect Baz wouldn’t want to start spouting off about Snow and his ‘gravitational pull’ again while she’s in earshot.

It’s really weird seeing her after my revelation yesterday evening. She’s still unnervingly attractive, and if she appeared to have any interest in me at all, well… I can’t honestly say I wouldn’t think about it. But it’s somehow not as intense anymore? It really is just physical. With Niall there’s so much there without even taking my sudden interest in his body into account. I think that the realisation that I wanted him like that, woke me up to the fact that I’ve had other, deeper, feelings for him for a while. Feelings that I just assumed were friendship, or a special roommate bond, or whatever.

I have a sudden memory of Baz and I on our first day at Watford, talking as if there was no way the Crucible wouldn’t pair us up. Thank Crowley it didn’t, if both our fates were to fall for our roommates. I push that thought away, and give her my usual charming smile.

“Dev. Nice to see you.” She has the face I recognise as her ‘society smile’ on. It’s more polite than the one she usually gives me at school, but as we’re at the club, and her mother is sitting a few tables away with some other ladies, it makes sense. Baz drops his head and opens his eyes, face perfectly impassive, and she gives him the same politely apathetic smile. “Basil. How have you both been?”

“Wellbelove,” Baz acknowledges. “The holidays have been tolerable.”

Oh goody, we’re back to him sounding like a Jane Austen tosser, instead of just a regular one.

“Well mine has been brill,” I counter, “and last night we ate excellent pizza at a place in Battersea. You should definitely check it out. If you haven’t already I mean, since your boy works there.”

Agatha looks vaguely confused. Baz looks momentarily pained, but from the corner of my eye I can see him heroically rearranging his features.

“Simon? He has a job?”

I’m a little taken aback. “You didn’t know?”

“We…” She glances briefly at Baz, then drops her eyes to the table. “We don’t usually keep in contact over the summer.” Baz’s face is still impassive, but it’s the type of impassive that means he’s trying to hide some other emotion. I stare inquiringly at him, but he shakes his head just the barest amount, enough to imply a “don’t ask”.

She seems to collect herself. Then, with the society smile back on her face, says, “I guess I’ll be seeing you both in a couple of weeks. Enjoy the rest of your break.” She goes to leave, but then pauses and turns back.

“What is the restaurant called?”

“Calda… something or other?”

“It’s La Fetta Calda.” Baz helpfully provides. “At the old power station.”

She just gives him a polite nod, and heads off, presumably to join her mother. Once she’s out of earshot again, I turn on him.

“They don’t see each other over the holidays? Like, at all?”

“I believe he usually goes to the Wellbeloves for Christmas, but…” His face has that steely edge that means he’s angry. “The Mage makes him stay in care homes over the summer. He usually doesn’t have contact with anyone from school.”

“That’s bullshit.” I finally say, after trying, and failing, to adequately process this information.

“Yes.” He agrees, staring daggers at his half empty glass. “Yes it is.”

AGATHA

Simon has a job? At a pizza restaurant? I wonder if the Mage knows. I wonder if Penelope knows.

I wonder if I’m the only person who didn’t know.

Dev seemed surprised that we don’t talk during the summer. I suppose it is unusual for a normal couple. But we’re not a normal couple are we? We never have been, and never will be. I wish it was different. I’ve spent more time than usual over this summer thinking about how much easier everything could be if magic wasn’t part of my life. I’d spend less time down wells, that’s for sure, but I also likely wouldn’t have even started dating Simon. It’s not that I don’t care about him, but I don’t think we’re actually romantically compatible. If he wasn’t the Chosen One, I’m not sure anyone would have expected us to be together honestly.

I think about Basil, and what I learned at the end of term. I used to think maybe he was the answer to the discomfort I felt within myself. I thought that maybe I just wasn’t cut out to be a Good Girl. But even without the… Well, he’s still a really powerful mage. And living up to his mother’s magickal legacy is incredibly important to him.

I’ve become more convinced than ever that what I’m really looking for is not going to be found in a relationship with either of them.

Once we’re home, and my mother can’t berate me for looking at my phone in company, I look up the restaurant's opening hours. I could wait until term starts to say what I need to say to Simon, but I think I’d rather get it over with. I hesitate for a moment, before opening up my contacts and calling Penelope.

I still remember the look on Professor Bunce’s face after they both crashed in at the end of year ceremony - like an angry rakshasa. There’s a very good chance that Penelope doesn’t know where Simon’s been either. And I think she probably deserves to.

Chapter Text

PENNY

I have to say, the last person I expect to get a phone call from in the summer holidays is Agatha. I know she likes to try and forget about school, and magic, and everything that goes along with it, and just have a normal life. I’ve never understood it.

This summer, however, I’ve been wishing I could just forget about it. Just for a bit. Mum used some sleep spells on me for the first few days because I was having terrible nightmares, but then said that it was dangerous to keep relying on them. I’m not getting them as often now, but I just wish I could check on Simon. I don’t dare bring up trying to find him to Mum again, because she would just get that look on her face. The one that leads to Dad forcing her into a chair with a large whisky to stop her ranting about the Mage.

So even though I think that Agatha is the last person who is likely to have any news of Simon, I still pick up the phone after the first ring. I’m desperate for anything that isn’t listening to my younger siblings’ terrible taste in tv shows inadequately drowning out my spiralling thoughts. I’ll even subject myself to a horse show, or (I shudder at the thought), a spa day.

As it happens, I’m being given a chance to see Simon. (And free pizza.) That definitely works for me. Five minutes after hanging up I’m already on my way out the door.

🍕

Agatha told me to wait for her at the tube station, but she must be mad if she thinks I’m hanging around a second longer than necessary. I generously give her 2 minutes, then send a text to say I’ll get us a table. She just replies with an eye roll emoji.

It’s only a 5 minute walk from the station, and as I approach the restaurant, I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. It’s Simon, but he’s dressed as a slice of pizza. Agatha didn’t mention that. I’ve unconsciously slowed down, trying to take it in, and then he turns and spots me.

“PEN!”

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not really one for public displays of emotion. Or private displays of emotion. Emotions are just… They just get in the way most of the time. But I’d be lying if I said that seeing my best friend so happy, and excited to see me, didn’t make me feel just a bit teary. He has his arms thrown wide as if to hug me, but as I get closer we both seem to realise that that’s not going to work. Instead he takes one of my hands in both of his and shakes it excitedly.

“I can’t believe you’re here! How have you been?”

His eyes move across my face as if checking for signs of damage. I can’t say I’m not doing the same, as I do at the end of every summer. He’s looking less gaunt in the face than he often does, and I feel so relieved that this job means he’s probably been eating better.

“Oh, you know. Avoiding my siblings, reading advanced spell theory, bugging dad about dead spots. Worrying about you… The usual.”

His face falls a little, but then he grins again, giving my hand one last squeeze before dropping it.

“Well, I’ve been doing ok actually. Been keeping busy here, and I get a free pizza after every shift!” His eyes twinkle at that, and I have to laugh. It’s so like Simon to use food as a metric for how good his summer has been.

“Maybe you need to stop eating so much of it, it looks like you’re turning into one.”

He absolutely guffaws at that, and all I can think is… I’m so very relieved and happy to see him again.

AGATHA

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Penelope couldn’t wait another 5 minutes for me. I still don’t know exactly what happened at the end of last term, but they both looked worse than I’ve ever seen them. Which is really saying something. I have had moments over the years when I was jealous of the bond they have. But I know she loves magic and mysteries more than I do, and considering what I’m about to do, I’m honestly glad he has her on his side.

I tried to rehearse what I’m going to say to Simon on the train, but it’s almost impossible to predict how he’s going to react, which makes it almost pointless to have a script to follow. I mull a few possibilities over in my head as I make my way from the station, and I don’t even realise I’m there until I hear an unmistakable voice.

“Ags? Is it really you?”

He looks disbelieving, like maybe he’s dreaming. I try not to think about how this might be his nightmare.

“Hello Simon. You’re… a pizza.”

“Yeah, that was the position I got hired for. I’m probably too clumsy to actually serve food, so…”

He smiles while shrugging in that very Simon way.

I’m going to dump him while he’s dressed as a slice of pizza.

I feel kind of bad, but then again, I never asked to be dragged all over the countryside just because I agreed to date him. Honestly, this probably won’t even make it into the top 5 worst moments of our relationship. (Almost all of those belong to the various times I spent down some dank well. In my opinion anyway.) Hopefully it will just turn into one of those funny stories that he tells people. I can’t lose my nerve now.

“Pen’s here as well actually, just over there.” He turns to point and Penny gives me an enthusiastic wave.

“Yes, I was meeting her. Simon… I need to talk to you. Do you get a break?”

“Sure, I can probably take one now actually…” He turns to look through the open door of the restaurant, and gestures at his wrist, as if he’s pointing at a watch. I see an older man give him a small nod in return. His manager I suppose.

“Shall we join Penny then?” He asks with a smile.

I briefly consider whether it’s even possible for him to sit down. Then I remind myself that, in an amusing turn of events, I’m here with a mission.

“Not yet. I need to talk to you alone.”

“Oh. Right.”

His smile falters and he worries at his curls. Then he points towards the river, and we walk silently up to the railings that line this section of the Thames.

How do I do this?

“You’re here to break up with me, aren’t you?”

That’s one way I suppose.

I can’t look at him yet. I need to get this out first. I focus on the water.

“Simon… I’ve spent a lot of time thinking this summer. I just don’t love magic the way you do. The way Penny does. I’d be perfectly happy living without it. Without the strife and the politics and the posturing over power and abilities. It just doesn’t have the meaning to me that it does for you. Much to my mother’s dismay, I’d like to have an unremarkable life. And I’d really like to spend my last year at school not being targeted as the way to get your attention when some random creature attacks. It’s my last chance to have a normal school year.”

I hear him make a noise, something between a huff and a laugh, and it finally makes me turn to look at him. I was expecting an angry bluster.

“That’s the second time this week someone’s talked to me about having a normal school year. Almost like the universe is trying to tell me something.”

He looks across the river, and then back at me. He’s sad, but I don’t think he’s angry.

“I thought we were endgame, you know. That when it was all over, and the Humdrum was defeated, if I survived, we’d…” He trails off and looks back across the water. Maybe he’s looking at something far away, something that’s only real to him.

“I’ve been holding on to a storybook ending, haven’t I? You’re the beautiful princess, and I’m the golden hero. I have to slay the monster and then I win.”

“Simon…”

“I think I might have become confused about who the monster really is though.”

I don’t understand that, but I’m glad he’s not working himself up to go off. I’m about to ask what he means, but he shakes his head as if to clear it, turns, and says,

“I love you Ags, but I understand. I mean, I don’t understand how you can’t love magic, but I think I understand that maybe we aren’t really right for each other. I want us to be, but…”

He just shrugs and tears at his curls again. Clearly finally out of words.

“I love you too Simon, just not the way I need to if I want to be a part of that story. But I don’t want to be a part of it to be honest. I’m not a prize, I’m a person. I’m not a princess, I’m just a girl.”

He nods sadly.

“We can still be friends though, right? You know Penny won’t listen to me talk about Doctor Who.”

That startles a laugh out of me.

“Yes, I want us to still be friends.”

He grins at that, but then looks nervous, and says:

“Can I ask something without you getting mad?”

I hum noncommittally.

“Go on then.”

“Do you fancy Baz?”

I almost want to laugh again; of course he can’t go a single conversation without bringing Basil into it somehow.

“I… thought I did. For a while anyway. But I realised that he’s too in love with magic for my tastes.”

He definitely relaxes more after that. I feel the slight sting of irritation that he’d be upset if I did still think of Basil in that way, but it doesn’t really surprise me. That’s just how he is. He looks back at the restaurant, and I follow his gaze to see Penny turn away quickly, suddenly very interested in her glass of water. I don’t think she knows any spells for eavesdropping, though I wouldn’t put it past her. I’m pretty sure she never really thought we should be together anyway, so at least she isn’t going to be upset.

“I should get back to work.”

“Of course.”

“Are you and Penny sticking around for dinner then? Maybe if you’re still here when I’m done we can all hang out for a bit?”

He looks so hopeful. I never really allowed myself to think about how lonely he must get over the summer, it was just too much. It’s hitting me now though, so I ask what time he finishes, and say that we can probably stay for a while after that.

Our short walk back from the river’s edge feels much pleasanter than the walk there.

SIMON

I think I knew when I saw her what was coming next. And surprisingly, I’m not as gutted as I thought I might be.

I can’t believe I got dumped while I was dressed as a slice of pizza though.

To be honest, I haven’t thought about Agatha much all summer.

I’ve been doing this gig long enough now that I don’t have to think about that too much either. Just wave and smile, offer flyers if you catch someone’s attention. Tell them how great the special garlic bread is. (It’s buttery. So buttery.) Suppose that’s why I’m good at it. I follow the script, and I don’t think. I steal a glance at Penny and Agatha, and see that they’re ordering already. (Should’ve told Pen about the garlic bread.)

I follow the script…

I’ve been holding on to a storybook ending, haven’t I?

Except over the summers, when I have to leave the story and go be a Normal with no purpose. Then, I try not to think about school at all. Put it all on a list and tuck it away into a box until it’s time to go back. I give a friendly wave to a couple passing by, and they take one of the flyers.

You’re the beautiful princess, and I’m the golden hero.

Agatha doesn’t want to be part of the story, and I can’t say I blame her. Perhaps I never loved her the way I needed to for it to be more than just playing the part. I look towards the river and see a bloke jogging past with a huge dog on one of those leashes attached to his belt. It looks big enough to take him down if it gets over excited, like that dog I thought was were.

I have to slay the monster and then I win…

Wait...if I don’t think about Agatha during the summer, does that mean that Agatha is part of school, but not necessarily part of my life? I look over at Pen and Agatha again. Penny is absolutely part of my life, even though I only get to see her at school, and even though I put her on the list so I can try not to think about how much I miss her.

I just never think about school during the summers. Except…

Except for the one part I can’t not think about. He never lets me forget. He’s always there, sneering, smirking, looking down his perfectly crooked nose at me. Even after his scent wears off of my clothes I still think of what he would say to me when I’m being particularly daft. That lilt of his voice, and the cock of his eyebrow. Even when I’m not being the hero, he’s still there in my head, playing the part of the villain.

But yesterday… yesterday he looked so… so not like a villain.

He was soft, and relaxed, just having fun with his mates. He looked like a different person. A person I’d be friends with. (A person I would apparently wink at.)

What if…

What if Baz doesn’t want to be part of the story either? Have I cast him as a villain when he was never meant to fulfil that role? Does he have to follow the script?

Do I?

I might have become confused about who the monster really is…

I realise I’ve been staring into space, and I refocus my eyes just in time to see a lone, black-haired figure approaching me. A figure in jeans, his soft waves lifted by the summer breeze, the hint of a smile on his lovely face. A figure who is very definitely not a monster. Even though I made a decision, years ago, to cast him as one in my story.

Oh.

Chapter Text

BAZ

Why I decided to come back again so soon I have no idea.

No. That's not really true.

The idea begins and ends with “Simon Snow winked at me and I have a masochistic need to know if he will do it again”.

Before leaving the club after tennis, I tried convincing Dev to come with me, as a buffer, but he just gave me a look I never want to see again - it may have been piteous frustration. I got the feeling that he was holding back a lot of opinions about my emotional maturity (or lack thereof), and I should probably just be grateful he didn’t let them out. I’d rather he was here though, and not off to the cinema with Niall.

“You could both accompany me for dinner, and then go off to watch things getting blown up afterwards. Where’s your sense of loyalty?”

He did look somewhat apologetic at that, but even after I offered to pay, he just toyed with his empty glass and said:

“Niall asked me if I wanted to watch this with him because he knew you wouldn’t be interested. So it’ll just be us two, and maybe I can try and figure out whether he might feel like I do… I know it’s dumb… I mean he probably doesn’t…”

I’m pretty sure Niall had exactly the same idea as Dev, and it would have been an arsehole move to cockblock them.

“I’m… sorry. I am a big boy, and I can do this on my own. I’d honestly rather not… but I understand.”

How many times have I apologised in the last 48 hours? What in Crowley’s name is happening to me? Perhaps I’m finally acquiring some of that emotional maturity that Dev ever so politely didn’t mention.

After some further conversation about what the best wardrobe choice was for convincing your roommate that you would like to maybe explore a different type of relationship - and after a slight furore in the car park due to security having found a couple of numpties lurking in the bushes (numpties?!) - we went our separate ways to prepare for our respective ‘dates’.

Dev recommended I go with a similar look to yesterday’s, citing Simon’s general air of amazed disbelief as proof that it “did something for him”. Him being Simon, he was quick to point out, while I rolled my eyes to cover the excitement I felt over any part of me potentially “doing something” for Simon at all.

So, I donned my slimmest, darkest jeans, artfully dishevelled my hair, and picked out a midnight blue silk shirt with a subtle damask paisley print. I left the top two buttons open, then decided to roll up the sleeves as well. Hopefully this comes across as friendly and approachable, and not too flagrantly homosexual. I mean, I am flagrantly homosexual, but reining it in to just a little bit flagrant might be the way to go here.

This isn’t a date. I know this isn’t a fucking date. It can’t possibly be a date. For one thing, my supposed co-datee is working, and for another, he’s completely oblivious.

My nerves didn’t get that memo though.

I’m trying to keep my cool, but the sight of him in that ridiculous pizza costume is doing things to me that shouldn’t be allowed. What the fuck is wrong with me? He’s kicking at the ground and staring into space, and I can’t stop a smile from beginning to form, when he suddenly looks right at me. He has the amazed disbelief look again, and I’m just trying to decide whether I’m annoyed or delighted over Dev being right (again), when I’m stopped in my tracks by a loud “BASIL?! IS THAT YOU?”

Aleister fucking Crowley. Definitely not a date.

PENNY

I didn’t realise Basil could look so casual. But also so much like a child with his hands caught in a cookie jar at the same time. I glance at Simon to see if he’s winding up to take out half the block over this unexpected appearance, but he just looks… like a deer in headlights, to be honest.

In fact if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he might even be pleasantly surprised by seeing Baz. I turn to Agatha to confirm what I’m seeing, but after slowly taking them both in, she sits back in her chair, and lets out a disappointed sigh.

“I should have seen that coming.”

Seen what?

AGATHA

I really should have spotted that a mile off. It’s Simon that Basil wants. Every interaction with him is flipping through my head like an out of control slide show. Polite but distant when we were alone; charmingly interested if Simon was in the vicinity. With the exception perhaps of our meeting at the end of last term - and even that ended with him asking about Simon.

And this look is… well. To a casual observer he’s just thrown this together and strolled out the door, but I can tell he’s put thought into this. His artfully tousled hair is a little too artful. His shirt is just the right shade of blue to set off his hair and eyes. And those jeans… His legs in those jeans are quite something. (I may no longer be interested in him, but I’m not blind.) I’d be willing to bet serious money that this is his pulling look.

Am I surprised by this revelation? If I’m honest… not really. But Simon’s reaction is another thing entirely. It isn’t his usual bluster and red-faced posturing, it isn’t even that he’s so surprised that he hasn’t had time to work himself up yet. He’s had almost a full minute to stare doe-eyed at Basil, and he’s still just… doing that.

Wait a minute… Is that why he was so calm over the breakup? Does he… Is that why he asked if I fancy Basil?

Does he even realise his feelings? Or…

Oh my god. Have we interrupted a DATE?

“Should have seen what coming?”

I vaguely register Penny’s confused voice, and turn to look at her. For all her astonishing magickal intelligence, she can be terribly oblivious.

“Well, I think that Basil fancies Simon. Simon probably fancies Basil to be honest - he’s been obsessed with him for long enough - though I don’t know if he’s worked that out yet. I do wonder if we’ve crashed a date… Although I don’t think that Simon would have agreed to that while we were still officially together, so maybe not…”

To her credit, Penny just snorts inelegantly. She could have started laughing hysterically or shouting angrily, either of which would draw more attention to us than we’ve already got. I just stare at her, nonplussed.

“Oh wait, you’re actually serious.” She adjusts her glasses and looks at them both again. Baz is standing awkwardly - trying to decide if he’ll acknowledge Penny’s outburst probably - and Simon is just staring at him, clutching the flyers in his hand like they’re a balloon that will float away if he loosens his grip. The spell is broken when one of the servers accidentally knocks his elbow, and he shakes his head and turns to look at pedestrians in the other direction.

“Hmmmm.”

I look quizzically at her, but that seems to be all I’m getting for now. Before I realise it, Basil is approaching our table, the vaguely terrified look from before replaced with one of polite blankness.

“Bunce, Wellbelove,” he nods at each of us in turn. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Penny now has her ‘I’ve found a puzzle and I must drop everything I was just doing to solve it immediately’ expression on. Or, as I like to call it, her mischief face.

“Basil, I must say I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well the pizza is excellent.”

“Are you talking about the pizza,” Penny’s eyes drift to where Simon is waving at a passing couple, “or the pizza?”

I suppress a groan.

SIMON

For the first time since I got this job, I find myself wishing my shift was over quicker so I could join Pen and Agatha. And possibly Baz. Who is wearing another soft looking shirt and those bloody jeans again. Is he actively trying to kill me? I mean, with something other than magic?

He’s sitting down at their table.

He’s ordering.

He’s planning to stay then.

Merlin, Morgana, and bloody Methuselah.

What in the seven hells is happening? I’m definitely starting to feel like I’ve fallen into some kind of parallel universe. Maybe this is some new form of Humdrum attack? I try to feel out my magic, and it’s right there, simmering at the surface. Not the Humdrum then.

What was I telling myself earlier? Baz may not be the villain I’ve cast him as. He may just be a posh tosser who thinks he’s better than everyone else, and whose parents are part of the system the Mage is trying to dismantle. But that doesn’t have to mean he’s actively a villain. Maybe I had him wrong from the start. Maybe we just rub each other the wrong way.

I take a deep breath, and look over at their table again. Baz is propping his head in one hand, and seems very interested in something that Penny (who’s gesticulating wildly) is saying. Agatha looks, well, bored, honestly. Pen’s probably going off about some weird spell she discovered then. I’m forcibly reminded of the scene from last night - Baz and Dev and Niall enjoying themselves like normal teenagers. If you didn’t know the history here, you might think that Baz, Pen and Ags were just a group of normal teenagers. Friends out for a meal together.

What does it feel like to be normal? To put down the script and walk away? To just allow yourself to be in the moment?

Could I…? Would it be so bad if, just for once, I got to decide what part I wanted to play? Or maybe even wrote my own story?

Baz looks like he’s trying not to smile at Penny, but his mask is slipping. He looks away from her and his eyes meet mine. He looks briefly surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting me to be looking back. I can’t help myself, I give him a big smile. He looks flustered, and maybe slightly flushed? Well. That’s… ok. Yeah. That’s… a thing.

Agatha follows his eyes and gives me a quizzical look. She can do the eyebrow thing too, it’s not fair. I give her a shrug, and she just rolls her eyes while giving me a half-smile. It feels like she knows something I don’t, which is not necessarily unusual, but I get the impression that I’m missing something very important about this situation. I turn away and try to focus on my job before I get caught up worrying about it.

BAZ

I have apparently fallen down the rabbit hole, and am living a semi-charmed life.

I’m not sure how it happened exactly, but I’m eating pizza with my so-called nemesis’ scooby gang. Making conversation like some kind of normal human being. Wellbelove asked Bunce about her American, and pointed out that if it wasn’t working they could be single pringles together for their final school year. I almost spilled my drink down my shirt at that piece of information, but fortunately I don’t think the girls noticed.

Her pointed remark about me enjoying the pizza aside, Bunce is a very stimulating conversationalist, and though I’m sure our talk about the effect that new translations of the Odyssey might have on existing spells was probably boring Wellbelove to tears, I actually forgot myself for a moment, and enjoyed talking with someone as passionate about obscure magickal lore as I am.

Simon came and joined us at the end of his shift, a large pizza and whole garlic bread in hand, both of which he demolished in minutes. He then proceeded to accuse Bunce and I of being nerds, while Wellbelove oh so casually remarked how well he was taking their breakup. Simon and I both choked a bit at that, though his was far noisier, and mostly covered up my reaction.

Now the girls have said their goodbyes - complete with hugs and conspiratorial looks in both of our directions - and Simon and I are finally alone. And awkward.

What do you say to your (hopefully ex-)nemesis, who has previously winked at you, and who is tugging at his hair looking bashful and flustered as if he wants to ask for your number, or a second (first?) date, but who may in fact just be trying to find the right words to insult you with?

“Look, did you wink at me because there was something in your eye, or do you actively find me attractive?”

Or maybe…

“So now that you aren’t officially dating Wellbelove, does that mean you’re available?”

Could go with…

“This has been very pleasant. Would you like to walk me home and then snog on the sofa for an hour or two?”

Damn you Fiona. Why couldn’t you have included useful information about this in your so-called ‘sex education’?

“So… I’m in that direction.” He says, pointing west towards the park.

Oh, he’s just trying to say that he’s going to leave. I suppose that’s what I should have expected. But… I could walk through the park as well; I don’t have to cross at Chelsea Bridge. I might even be able to catch a squirrel or two if it’s quiet.

“Me too.” I respond, trying to sound completely neutral about the whole thing. I’m not at all interested in how he responds.

And I’m really not at all knocked breathless as he gives me an adorably shy smile, and says, “d’you want to walk together for a bit then?”

I’m completely composed when I reply in the affirmative. Good job Basilton. Emotional Maturity.

If only Dev could see me now.

SIMON

I’m walking Baz home. Well, not exactly. But we are walking in the same direction. On purpose. Which I don’t think we’ve ever done before. Even after I broke his nose and we both went to the infirmary he walked ahead of me so he didn’t have to look at me.

Now it feels like he can’t stop looking at me. And not in a sneering way either. And he keeps tucking his hair behind his ear. Agatha used to do that before we started dating. It draws attention to his fingers. Long and elegant, proper violinist fingers probably. I wonder how they’d feel in my hair…

Okay. Don’t know where that came from… Or do I? If I’m honest, I’ve definitely thought about what his hair feels like, so it makes sense that I’d want him to touch my hair too? Maybe? I don’t fucking know.

If this is what it feels like to go off script, it’s bloody nerve-wracking. I feel like my body is crackling with that need to have my hands on Baz, but I don’t want to hurt him. It’s confusing. I need to do something though, I feel like I might go off.

We’ve passed under the rail bridge, and as we approach Chelsea Bridge, I turn to him and say, “Race you to the park? I’ll take the stairs, you take the underpass?”

“What?”

He’s thrown for a second, but I smile at him in what I hope is a cheeky sort of way, and continue with:

“You’ll have the advantage. I’ve got to cross a major road, you just have a cyclist path.”

His eyes narrow, but then he breaks into a grin (oh merlin that’s cute), and says, “you’re on,” and immediately takes off. Bloody tosser, he could at least have counted to three. Fortunately I’m just in this to let off some steam, and not to actually win. I race up the stairs, time my sprint across the road to avoid the traffic, and then come to a halt inside the park gate, breathing heavily. I fully expected to see him already there, smirking at me, but the road is empty. Maybe he got distracted by a rat? Thought he’d grab a late night snack?

“Baz?” I call hesitantly into the bushes.

There’s a sound not unlike grinding rocks coming from the riverside. I start to walk in that direction, and hear the unmistakable sound of a wooden object making contact with a body. Then a cry of pain as the body hits the floor.

“BAZ!”

I start to call the Sword of Mages as I pick up speed.

“SOD OFF!”

I round the corner to see Baz on his knees. There’s a vaguely human-shaped pile of rock wearing a grubby jumper and wielding a cricket bat, and another (who seems to be wearing a tea cosy on its head) making a grab for Baz’s wand as he attempts to cast.

Fuck a nine-toed troll.

Numpties?!

Chapter Text

BAZ

It was all going so well. I should have known it wasn’t going to last.

We walked companionably for a while; Simon was nattering on about how he watches the chef at the restaurant shape the pizza dough, and how much fun it probably is. He seemed in high spirits, and although he kept awkwardly putting his hands in his pockets and then taking them out again, he also kept smiling at me. It definitely felt like he was getting worked up about something – he was leaking magic. (I’d like to think it was my proximity, but maybe he just really likes pizza dough.)

Then he suggested a race.

I was thrown, but I’m not normal when it comes to Simon Snow. I’d give him anything, even a ridiculous foot race to Battersea Park. Besides, I was floating high on the thought of his cheeky grin, and the way he kept looking at me. It felt fond.

I almost missed the creak of a rusty gate and the rumble of rocks. I slowed up to shoot a quick glance around, and I’d just decided it was nothing to worry about, when I sensed the looming presence behind me. I didn’t have time to fully turn around before I felt the intense pain across the backs of my knees.

Then I heard Simon calling out, but I was more focused on the second attacker which was now reaching for my wand, and I tried to cast before it could grab it.

Aleister fucking Crowley. Numpties? That’s twice in one day they’ve been spotted out of their den. First at the club, and now here?

All of a sudden, glowing sword in hand, Simon rounds the corner like an avenging angel sent to banish the hordes of hell.

Fuck me, that’s attractive.

SIMON

If these dumb piles of rock think they can attack Baz and steal his wand, then I would like to help them think again.

I go for the one that’s trying to take Baz’s wand and strike it in the stomach. It releases him, doubled over in pain. Before I can do anything else though, the second numpty swings the cricket bat at me, hitting me across my back, and I fall to my knees as well. They’re bloody strong, I’ll give them that.

The cricket bat numpty is winding up to hit me again. I twist around and try to stab it, but it just widens its eyes, drops the bat, and tries to grab at the sword.

“So warm…” it says in a voice that sounds like a millstone turning. Of course! They’re drawn to sources of heat. I really can’t go off here, so I try to channel magic into the sword. I’ve never actually tried to use it as an instrument before, but it can’t possibly be any worse than my wand. I wrack my brain for good freezing spells to try and keep it at bay.

“We all fall down!”

The panic in Baz’s voice startles me and I fall onto my arse turning to him. The tea cosy numpty has given up on trying to grab his wand and has his ankles instead. It tugs sharply just as the spell lands, and Baz falls flat on the pathway, somehow turning his head at the last second to narrowly avoid another broken nose. The numpty collapses into itself, turning into a mound of rock. Then with a horrifying grinding sound, it unfolds itself and reaches for Baz’s legs again.

“SIMON!” he calls desperately as the numpty stands up and begins to drag him towards an opening in the bridge foundation.

I don’t hesitate; I just release one of my hands from the sword and reach for him…

I’m still trying to channel my magic into the sword…

I manage to grab his hand…

BAZ

…I feel Simon’s magic flooding down my arm.

At least I assume it’s his magic. It’s like those guided meditations I’ve heard Daphne use that tell you to imagine a sunbeam, except I can literally feel a crackling warmth spreading throughout my entire body from my hand. My senses are flooded with the smoky essence of him, completely saturating me within and without. It’s absolutely glorious.

“Whatever happens, don’t let go!” I call out to him. He looks at me, blue eyes wide in amazement, and nods. I wonder what this feels like for him?

I point my wand at the numpty bearing down on Snow, and cast “Get Back!” Then I twist around and do the same to the numpty that’s trying to keep ahold of my legs. They’ve both folded in on themselves again, and they’ve been pushed back towards the railings. I direct my wand at both of them and sing “Get back to where you once belonged!”

They both promptly topple over onto the riverbank… and then just keep rolling on into the river, eventually sinking out of sight.

SIMON

Siegfried and fucking Roy. What the hell just happened? I know I needed to let out some energy, but having to drive off a pair of oddly aggressive numpties seems a bit over the top. Where the hell did they come from? Why were they trying to take Baz’s wand? What would they even do with it? Not to mention that they definitely seemed to be trying to drag him away somewhere. And what was going on with my magic? It felt like I was pushing it into Baz, but that’s not possible. Is it?

I hear a soft groan next to me. Baz.

I dismiss the sword, but don’t drop his hand. He’s rolled over onto his back, same as me, but he’s breathing heavily, and I can see a graze on the side of his face.

“Si… Snow. Are you alright?” He sounds a bit breathless, but that might just be shock. Pretty sure he almost said my name again too. (Which might also be shock, but I kind of hope it isn’t.)

“Am I alright? What about you?”

There’s a pause, and I hear him shuffle his legs a bit.

“Well, it’s certainly been a very eventful evening. But nothing a few healing spells and a good night’s sleep won't fix, I’m sure. It usually works for you.”

Is he fucking joking? I sit up and give him my best “are you fucking joking?” look. At least, I try.

“Baz… You just got attacked by two walking piles of rock. They tried to take your wand. They dragged you across the ground. Your face is bleeding for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yes. And I also appeared to use your magic to send them to a watery grave.” At this he just stares blankly at me, and then raises a single accusatory eyebrow. So I did channel my magic into Baz. Hell’s Spells, I think I’m still channelling my magic into Baz…

I try to let go of his hand, but he just squeezes tighter, unwilling to let me go.

“It’s not hurting you, is it?” It’s suddenly very important to me that I’m not hurting him.

“No. It’s… amazing actually… feels like… a star… in my chest… so much power…”

He looks like he’s about to pass out actually, or like he’s drunk. Drunk on my magic. Drunk on me.

That fills my chest with a strange warmth that I don’t think has anything to do with magic. The only light is from a single streetlight on the bridge above us, but I swear his skin is glowing. His hair is spread out around his head like a dark halo, and I can see a slight flush on his uninjured cheek. It almost seems like he’s lit up from within. Is that the effect of my magic, or just… him? How does he still look so perfect, even after what just happened? I probably look like I’ve been dragged through the bushes.

He’s… beautiful. I reach out to gently stroke his grazed cheek, and mutter “get well soon.” I don’t really expect it to work, but my magic feels like it might behave itself for once. And for once, I’m right. His eyes widen when he feels the spell take hold, and he brings his other hand up to hold my wrist.

“Look at that. I can cast spells.”

His face falls a bit. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t, Simon. I barely know what to do with all of this… it must be awful for you…”

I rub my thumb gently over his healing cheek, and decide that now is not the time to have this conversation. I know everyone thinks I have a terrible self-preservation instinct, but I like to think I’m good at knowing when to make a retreat, especially if other people need protecting.

“We should get you home. I’m not sure where they came from, but I’d rather not hang around to see if there’s more numpties on the way.”

He closes his eyes, nodding reluctantly.

“I’m going to let go now,” I say, and I can already feel my magic retreating back. Back to its usual barely manageable state. I slowly get to my feet, wincing a little from pain. Certainly not the worst I’ve ever been after a fight; there isn’t even any blood. Well, apart from Baz’s cheek, but that’s almost completely healed over now. I reach out a hand, just to help him up, but once he’s on his feet he doesn't let go and neither do I.

“Do you need healing, Snow?”

I need him to call me Simon again. I like the way my name sounds in his voice. Is that a weird thing to ask?

Instead I say, “I just got hit in the back, I’ll be alright.”

He looks pained, and tells me that’s worse because of the possibility of internal injuries. It’s never worried me before, but if it means he’ll keep holding my hand and being soft with me, he can cast all the healing spells he likes. I probably shouldn’t say that out loud though.

“If it will make you feel better,” is all I do say.

“Exponentially,” he drawls. Then he puts his other arm around me, pointing his wand at my back and casting his own get well soon.

His magic, like mine, feels like fire. But I don't think I ever properly appreciated the difference between them. Mine is like a volcanic eruption, one of those really explosive ones which shoot rocks and magma everywhere. There’s a definite blast zone when I’m trying to use magic, even intentionally, and more so when I go off. Baz’s magic is more like a campfire. There’s a soothing quality to it, if you’re not too worked up to realise that.

Reckon I’ve always been too worked up to fully enjoy anything about Baz really. But I’m not now. I’m enjoying feeling his hand in mine, and his arm around my waist, and the heat of his magic melting the pain in my back away. I’m enjoying how soft his eyes look, and how pretty they are when he’s not scowling.

How did I ever think he was a monster?

“Is that better now?”

I almost miss what he’s saying, so lost in my head over how wrong I’ve been about him.

“Yeah.” It comes out more breathless than I intend. “It’s grand. Thank you.”

Would it be weird if I put my free hand in his hair? I’ve always wondered if it’s as soft as it looks.

BAZ

I’m going to spontaneously combust. Simon Snow just rescued me from what I think was an attempted kidnapping. Two days ago I might have thought he was in on it, that it was all some plot to take me out. But today…

Today he shared his friends and his magic with me. Today he defended me and healed me. Today… he’s in my arms, holding my hand, and looking up at me as if I’m a particularly large pile of fresh sour cherry scones. His other hand is snaking up between us, causing me to shudder (a very good shudder)... he’s gently brushing my hair back from my face... I have to close my eyes or I might actually pass out. Maybe I did. Maybe I’m lying on the ground, knocked out by the cricket bat, and this is a dream. It must be…

“Baz…” His voice is so unbearably gentle, and fond, “you’re…”

What am I? I may never find out, because at that moment the shrill note of a bicycle bell knocks us out of alignment, and a food delivery person goes zooming past us.

Fucking… bloody… Londoners. No respect for personal space.

The moment is lost, and Simon is staring at the ground, hassling his curls, and blushing furiously.

I have no idea what to say, so I put my hands into my coat pockets and take a deep breath while I think.

“Thank you for…”

“I think I should…”

We both find our words at the same time.

Raised to be the consummate gentleman, I continue with, “you first.”

“Well. I was just going to say that I think I should walk you back home. Or to your aunt’s place, you know. Just… want to make sure that you’re safe.”

Oh. That’s… disgustingly heroic of him. I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a powerful vampire mage who can hold his own perfectly well…

…and who nearly got knocked out and kidnapped by two sentient piles of rock.

The adrenaline from before is now almost worn off, and I’m left with nothing much except the nervous butterflies again. I can’t decide which feeling is worse. I think he can tell I might try and fob him off, because he adjusts his stance and gets his “I’m not giving up” face on - jutting out his chin and everything. Crowley, be still my beating heart.

I attempt a minor deflection - I am actually concerned about him getting into trouble - but I really desperately want him to walk me home.

“Don’t you have to sign back in at the home by a certain time?”

“Technically, I guess. But I’m 18, so there’s not much they can do about it if I don’t.”

“So you’re an emancipated young man now?”

He looks down at himself, vaguely confused. It’s too adorable. I want to pinch his cheeks.

“I’m not that bad. Definitely not as skinny as I usually am at the end of the summer anyway.” He looks back up at me with a knowing grin. “Probably all the pizza I’ve eaten.”

I need a second to take in what he’s said, before I bark out a laugh in spite of myself.

“I think you might be thinking of emaciated.”

“Maybe.” He gives me a very Simon shrug-and-grin combo. “We’re not all walking dictionaries like you and Penny you know.”

He’s giving me a questioning look, but there was never really any question. I’d let him walk me anywhere.

“If you’re willing to accept the possibility of facing Fiona, then you may walk me back to her flat. If it will make you feel better.”

There’s a definite hesitation - he’s rightfully wary of my batshit aunt - and then in an awful imitation of me, responds with:

“Exponentially.”

Crowley. I love this moron.

Chapter Text

NIALL

We’re walking back from the cinema, crossing through the park near my house. Earlier I had suggested a sleepover after the film, and though it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, with each step closer to home I’m starting to regret it. I can’t say I even remember much about the film actually. I was far too aware of Dev’s presence. I tried putting my arm on the rest between us a couple of times, just to see if he’d compulsively grab my hand. (Merlin knows I didn’t have the nerve to grab his.) But he just started shoving more popcorn into his face every time.

I’m not sure if that was a sign that I should throw all my hopes and dreams in the bin, or if he was just genuinely snackish at those precise moments.

As we walk in silence, it’s starting to feel like maybe it was a sign. Given that, I’d rather be alone to mourn than have to smile and joke my way through the rest of the evening. I mean he hasn’t outright said he’s not interested - would’ve been a bit weird if he had really, since I never actually asked - but I feel like I’ve been rejected all the same. How in the seven hells does Baz tolerate living with Snow? I know I’ve lived with Dev for the past seven years, but I’ve only had these feelings for the last two, and the intensity of it has only increased this summer. I honestly don’t know if I’ll survive…

“D’you think Baz got his pizza yet?”

Dev’s usually cheerful voice has a nervous edge to it, but I can still see the eyebrow waggle I know he must be doing, even without looking at his face.

“I hope so. He deserves some happiness.”

I take a few steps before realising that he’s stopped. I look back at him, dimly lit by the gibbous moon. He’s doing the adorable puppy head tilt. For Crowley’s sake, doesn’t he know what he’s doing to my poor heart?

“Why did you say it like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like the way you said it, your tone of voice, you said he deserves happiness. As if you don’t.”

Did it really come out that way? “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

“Because you do deserve happiness, Niall.”

“Well yeah, we all do, don’t we.” He looks so fucking earnest. I’m not sure if I can have this conversation with him. Especially since right now it feels like I can’t have the one thing that would make me happiest. I turn back towards home again before I start getting weepy or say something embarrassing.

He steps closer and takes hold of my wrist.

“Niall. I’m serious. I know that I’m usually the crazy one. And Baz is the emo one. And you’re…”

He looks down at our hands, then back up again. His gaze is intense.

“You’re like the glue that holds us together. We’d be in a right state if you hadn’t been there to keep us sensible so many times. You deserve to be happy. And if being with someone is what would make you happy…”

He pauses, and takes a deep breath.

“...then you deserve to be with someone who’s worthy of you, who can make you laugh, and treat you like the precious soul you are.”

I close my eyes. I can’t watch him tell me he’ll be my wingman or some other bullshit.

“And maybe… I know it’s dumb… because I’m dumb… but I make you laugh, don’t I?”

Wait…

“And I’d like to think that I could make you happy if you let me.”

Is he…

“And I already think you’re precious, so I’d just need to learn how to treat you right… you could teach me…”

My head is feeling woozy, I’ve wanted him for nearly two years, and now it sounds like maybe I can have him? My knees go wobbly, and my arm slips out of his grip as I fall to my arse.

“Niall? Are you alright?”

He sounds so worried. I look up to see concern etched all over his stupid adorable face.

“I’m not sure. Are you…” I take a deep breath. “Dev, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He looks bashfully down at his feet.

“If you think I’m saying that I want to be your boyfriend, if you’ll have me… then, yes.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dev blush, but he’s doing it now. He wants me… Aleister Crowley, he actually wants me. I realise that he’s being ridiculously brave, putting it all out there. Unlike me. Maybe I could be brave for him.

“I… would really like that. I would love it actually.”

The smile he turns on me is like pure sunshine.

“You would?”

“I’ve wanted it for a while. I just didn’t think you…” I decide not to finish that sentence. It doesn’t really matter now. Instead I reach out my hand. “Help me up?”

He has that cocky, shit-eating grin on now, the one that drives me mad. I think he needs a little grounding. He reaches down to pull me up, but I tug sharply as he takes hold and he topples onto me with a surprised “oof!”

I just laugh breathlessly. I think I might love this idiot.

DEV

“You’re such a wanker!”

I’m not actually that upset about him pulling me down. It means I’m now lying on top of him, which is not an unpleasant turn of events to be honest. (Even if it is a little early in our relationship, and we’re in a public space.) I push myself up so that I’m straddling his hips, my hands either side of his head. His muddy blue eyes are crinkling from laughter.

“Yeah well. You’re an eejit,” he manages to get out between laughs.

“I am. But you love it.”

His laughing stills, and he looks right at me, eyes soft and open. It takes my breath away.

“Yeah. I do.”

I lean in slightly, just enough to rub the tip of his nose with mine. I can smell popcorn on his breath.

“I suppose I should let you get up.”

I really should. But it feels so good to have him so close. And what if he was only joking? What if he runs away as soon as I let him up? Much better to make sure he can’t get away. His voice is quiet but amused when he answers:

“You know, under any other circumstance, I’d say that you really don’t have to. But this grass is actually pretty cold and wet.”

“Fucking… Merlin!”

I hurriedly get myself up, trying not to knee him in the process, and then hold out my hands to help him up. Once he’s upright I turn him round so I can try and brush the wet grass off of his back.

“I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something before?”

At that he turns to face me, an adoring smile on his face. He takes both my hands in his, his thumbs rubbing my palms softly. His fingers are longer than mine. I don’t think I ever noticed that before.

“I really do, you know.” I look back up at his face. Merlin, he’s so fucking handsome.

“Do what?”

“Love it. Magic only knows why.” He adds, with a wry smile.

I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath. Here goes nothing…

“Can I… kiss you?”

I open one eye just in time to see him close his, a happily shocked smile on his face.

“Oh fuck yes. Please do.”

NIALL

I take it back. Suggesting the sleepover was the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had.

SIMON

We hustled through the rest of the park, and after crossing the river at Albert Bridge, we’re getting steadily closer to Fiona’s flat. I’m no closer to being able to say what I’m thinking though. I’m not even sure I know how to articulate it. Baz has always made me feel tongue-tied, and even now that I think I’ve figured out exactly why, it unfortunately hasn’t made the difficulty go away. I almost told him how lovely I think he is back there on that bike path. How much I regret thinking that he could ever be a monster.

How much, in that moment, I wanted to kiss him. (I think I still want to kiss him.)

The moment has gone, but I need to say something before he disappears again. I might not see him again until term starts, surrounded by memories and set pieces that will try and keep us in our roles. I feel like something has changed between us, and I don’t want it to change back. I want to keep this soft Baz, who tells me funny stories about his mates, and casually lets slip how much he enjoyed discussing spells with Pen.

“Hey Baz?”

“Yes Snow?”

He’s reverted back to Snow. I wish I knew how to get him to say ‘Simon’ again.

“Do you ever feel like you’re part of a story… like… you’ve been given a script, but it’s for a part that you didn’t choose?”

I sneak a sideways glance at him, and he looks thoughtful. I was worried he’d just call me an idiot. It’s a weird question.

“I… wouldn’t necessarily have put it that way myself, but yes. I do.”

He stops walking and looks out over the river. Is he looking back at where he got attacked? Or just staring into nothing?

“I feel like I was given the role of a villain. At least in your story.”

He looks sad.

“I suppose I have the right qualifications. A tragic backstory; an old conservative family who want me to fight against the upstart reformer to take back control; a prestigious name that will die with me if I don’t…”

He heaves a great sigh and closes his eyes. I almost miss what comes next, as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“No one bothered to ask me if I even wanted to be included in their plans. None of them cares about my preferences. It just feels like I’m never given a choice.”

I wonder if he meant to say any of this out loud. In front of me, of all people. I don’t want to spook him or make him close up again, but I want to know what he would choose. What it is he wants. I want to help him get it.

I think I’d give him anything, actually.

I speak as gently as I can.

“What part would you want then? If you were given the choice?”

I don’t add, is there a chance it includes me?

BAZ

How do I even answer that?

How do I tell him that I’ll take any part that lets me keep him close, in whatever way I’m allowed?

I didn’t choose to be a villain. At least, I didn’t realise that was what I was doing when I naively went along with what father and Fiona wanted all those years ago. But I have consistently chosen to keep up with the role everyone expects me to play. The dutiful son, the scheming nemesis, the bad-boy foil to Simon’s golden hero. I’m aloof, and condescending, and purposefully antagonistic towards Simon, as well as all the Mage’s attempts at reform.

At least some of that is just the result of personality. I find a lot of people annoying, and overstimulating, and I’d rather hole up in a library than go to a party. And if that comes off as aloof, well… so be it.

But I don’t always want to be condescending. Especially not towards Simon. And though I’d never voice it, not all the Mage’s ideas are just revolutionary nonsense. I know full well that Professor Minos wouldn’t be teaching under my mother, and he is very good at his job.

I think back to what Niall said last night, about how none of us get to choose our families or where we are in history. About how Dev actually looked scared for a moment when he talked about me being impaled by the Sword of Mages. I suppose I may have been a bit cavalier about my expected fate. It’s the villain’s ending after all.

But tonight I’ve seen a different ending. Or at least the possibility of one. Simon and I as a team, as… friends even. I’d take friends. I want so much more, but I’ll take whatever he gives me.

I glance back at him. He looks so open. I can tell he’s trying to be patient, waiting for an answer.

I’m… scared. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let Niall and Dev’s words come back to me…

“You’re still a teenager who has a life. It might be a weird life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with it sometimes...”

“Let’s go be eighteen and stupid...”

I can do this. I can be stupid. I look right into those ordinary blue eyes, (the ones he used to wink at me), and blurt it out before I can change my mind.

“I’d like to have the part of the gay emo teenage nerd who finally manages to get his head out of his arse long enough to ask his long-time crush out on a date.”

He gives me a searching look, and then says, “That seems like a very specific role.”

“Hmmm. Written with me in mind though.”

He gives a small huff of a laugh. Then stares at the floor while he hassles his hair.

“This… long-time crush… Is it anyone I know?”

This beautiful idiot. Has he not realised? Or is he like me - not quite brave enough to believe it might be him?

“I’d say you know him very well. He’s practically internet famous.”

He looks up in alarm.

“He’s what now?”

I adopt a mischievous smile.

“Oh yes. He’s well known for being the hottest slice of pizza in London.”

He looks remarkably like a fish now. Opening and closing his mouth while turning a delightful sort of strawberry red.

“I… is it… am I… what?”

In the interest of embracing my new role as a potential love interest (and to make sure I don’t lose my nerve), I decide not to draw out his confusion any longer.

“Simon Snow, would you like to go on a date with me?”

SIMON

Internet famous? Hottest slice of pizza in London?

He’s surely taking the piss. I have no idea how to respond to any of that, and I almost miss his question.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz Pitch look this nervous before. He’s… actually unsure. Like he thinks that I would possibly say no. Why would anyone say no?

(I am briefly reminded that two days ago I probably would have said no. And then I would have accused him of plotting and possibly tried to punch him. So I guess maybe the nerves are valid.)

He’s starting to look crestfallen now. Staring sadly at the pavement. It’s because I haven’t answered. SHIT. I need to give him an answer.

“YES!”

That came out a bit more aggressive than I intended, but I think I got the message across. He immediately looks back at me. Surprised, but hopeful.

I’ll try that again. Less shouty this time.

“Yes. Please. I would love to go on a date with you.”

“You would?”

“Obviously,” I say, gesturing to him. As if that was all the answer needed.

He looks shyly at the floor, and says, “We’ve spent a lot of time being enemies, Snow. So it isn’t really that obvious.”

I suppose that’s fair, but…

“I wouldn’t share my magic with just anyone, you know. And especially not with someone I considered an enemy.”

I take a step closer, gently take his face in my hands, and then lift it up so I can look into his eyes.

“I’m willing to rewrite our story if you are.”

He’s searching my face now, looking for the lie perhaps. He won’t find it. For one, I’m a shit liar, and for another, I’ve never felt more sincere in my entire life. I’m ready to toss the entire script over these railings to sink into the murky depths of the Thames. I want to find out what else he would choose if he could, and help him get it. I want to make him smile and laugh like his mates do. I want to see what we could accomplish together with my magic.

But most of all, right now, I desperately want to kiss him.

His voice is soft, pleading, “Simon…”

And then he leans forward and kisses me.

BAZ

Is this what he wants? I know it’s what I want. I feel his hands reach up into my hair, and hear a pleased sounding little sigh. That’s a good sign, right? I tentatively take hold of his waist, and he moves in closer, tilting his head slightly so our mouths fit together better.

Oh. Yes. That’s…

My brain stops making words that aren’t Simon… kiss… more… please…

I feel his tongue poking gently at my lips, and I open them instinctively, then have to tighten my grip on him so I don’t swoon. It’s overwhelmingly good. He tastes like pizza and smoke, magic and Simon. His tongue is an intrepid explorer in my mouth, his hands gently tugging my hair and cradling my neck. I never expected him to be so… careful. Like I’m something precious, but also… desired.

I feel wanted. It makes me a little feral, and I begin to push back, trying to map out his mouth as he’s done mine. I pull him even closer, and push one of my hands into his tangled curls. That makes him groan, and I start to feel like if this goes on much longer we’re at risk of being done for public indecency.

(Not that I’d care.)

(Actually, maybe I would.)

I pull away, which results in him making a whimpering sound that goes straight to my cock. I guess he really does want this as much as I do.

I’m trying to catch my breath, but it’s a bit difficult as Simon is now placing soft kisses on my jaw and neck, with a little whispered “Baz” after every one.

“Simon…”

I’m a Pitch. I can keep my composure. I can be sensible.

(I’m an eighteen year old who’s just had his first kiss at the side of a busy London road. I’m not fooling anyone.)

“Maybe we should, um… save further activity for after the date?”

(Or at least off the pavement?)

“I guess…”

He stops kissing me, but now he’s nuzzling into my neck, which really doesn’t make much difference to my arousal state to be honest.

“Weren’t you wanting to make sure I got home safe?”

That at least makes him look up.

“I suppose you’re right. After all, I don’t want Fiona coming after me. Numpties I can deal with, but your aunt…” He gives a full body shudder, which makes me laugh.

He gives me a blinding smile, and says, “I like seeing you laugh. I like knowing that I made you laugh.” He looks unsure suddenly. “You were serious about the date, yeah?”

“Of course I was. I’ve never been more serious about anything. Except perhaps about beating Bunce in Magick Words.”

“And you’re not going to pretend nothing happened when we get back to school? Just go back to being…”

I place my hands on either side of his face, and look straight into his eyes. “Simon, you said you’d be willing to rewrite our story. So would I. I’ve wanted nothing more for the last three years. If you’re serious, I promise I’m in this for as long as you want me to be.”

His eyes widen at the mention of three years, but when I’m finished speaking, he just says: “So, you’ll be my boyfriend then?”

Even if I hadn’t been all in from the moment he winked at me last night, the hopeful face he’s making now would have pushed me over the edge. He’s so fucking beautiful it makes me want to throw myself in the river. And he wants me to be his boyfriend. Fucking Crowley.

“Of course I will, you gorgeous nightmare.”

He leans in and gives me another kiss. This time soft and lingering. He’s smiling beatifically when he pulls away.

“Will this date include dinner?”

I scoff. “Yes. I’ve met you before. Of course it will involve dinner.”

“In that case, I have to tell you a secret. But you can’t tell anyone. Especially not my boss.”

Well that’s intriguing. “I am as silent as the grave,” I reply solemnly.

He snorts at the metaphor, then leans in conspiratorially.

“I’ve eaten enough pizza this summer to last me an entire fucking year. I’m not sure I can eat any more.”

I pout, “But I have these vouchers that the super hot mascot gave me. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Please Baz, I’m begging you. I’ll eat literally anything else.”

“Fine,” I sigh, pretending to be put out.

We begin walking again, this time holding hands and walking close together.

“How do you feel about Turkish food? I know a great place.”

“Never had it.”

I smile mischievously. “Oh you’ll love it, especially the lahmacun.”

“Ooh, what’s that then?”

I’m trying not to laugh. “Flatbread with meat on it.”

He stops and gives me a very unimpressed look. “So a pizza.”

“No, it’s lahmacun.”

“Sounds like pizza, Baz.”

“Only to the uncultured,” I reply. Trying to sound haughty, but failing and sniggering instead.

“Posh tosser.”

“Hottest slice of pizza ever.”

He barks out a startled laugh, gives me one more kiss, shakes his head at me, then lets me lead him home.