Work Text:
“When did it start?” Simon asks, his head laying on Baz’s bicep while twirling a strand of his hair around his finger.
“When did what start?”
The right end of Simon’s lips curls upwards, looking at Baz with an expression that said seriously? “Your undying love for me,” he clarifies. “When did that start?”
Baz makes a breathy sound that’s half a laugh, but mostly a pffff at Simon’s ridiculous(ly embarrassing) question. “Undying love is a bit much, don’t you think?”
Simon pouts, much like a child would when they’re told no. “Answer the question, Basilton.”
It’s strange hearing Simon use any other name than Baz when referring to him, and he hates himself for reacting just how Simon wanted him to. It’s worth seeing Simon’s cheeky smile, though.
He can be specific. Give Simon the exact date he realized, but that'd boost his ego too much. And would make Baz want to jump off a cliff. Instead, and with a begrudging sigh, Baz settles on: “I think you already know when.”
He said that mostly to get a reaction out of Simon as payback, but also partly because saying anything less vague felt like admitting defeat. As he expected, it workes. Simon’s eyes grew wide as saucers, aqua blue and entrancing, staring at Baz like he just said the craziest thing.
“Seriously?” he asks, an ear-to-ear grin on his face. “At least since fifth year?”
Further than that, Baz thought, but he didn’t dare say it aloud. If he had enough blood in him right now, he’d undoubtedly be a blushing mess. In the end, he could only manage a slight nod, voice caught in his throat like smoke failing to come out of a clogged chimney.
Simon looks elated. Meanwhile, Baz is dying inside, however much more undead vampires can die inside. But at least one of them is happy, that’s Baz’s thinking until Simon’s gleeful smile suddenly turns deviant.
“So when you got hit by that attitude reversal spell…”
Oh Merlin, Baz thinks, internally facepalmin at his own stupidity. He’d fallen right into Simon’s trap.
__________
Baz was acting weird. And not in the he’s a vampire! sense weird, just weird in general.
To be specific, he was being weirdly nice. Waving at people he barely talked to, greeting everyone good morning, and overall just being more courteous than necessary to his fellow students. He was even smiling, and not mockingly or deviously, which is an odd look for someone like Baz.
Even Penelope, Baz’s academic rival and second sworn enemy (Simon was the first), was treated with a sickening amount of kindness.
“Hello Bunce,” he said, walking speedily to catch up to her and Simon in the hallway. “How’s your day been?”
Penelope, seemingly none the wiser, went along with it. “It’s been all right, Baz,” she smiled. “Thanks for asking.”
“Didn’t you have Magic Words today?”
“Yes, I did!” Penelope exclaimed, happy to talk about anything magic with anyone who’d listen. “We talked about—“
“What do you want, Baz?” Simon cut in, brows furrowed and lips pouted. He was skeptical, to say the least. Baz? Being nice? That’s like Penelope going a whole day without using magic: impossible.
His eyes scanned Baz’s face for anything out of the ordinary—a symbol in his pupils, a tattoo on his neck, a new mole, anything that’d justify his current working theory; Simon was convinced that the Humdrum had possessed Baz and was using him as a spy to infiltrate Watford.
He just needed proof before he could go running to the mage.
Unfortunately, instead of giving Simon the proof he needed, Baz scowled. His smile faded and his eyes turned sharp, brows furrowed as if Simon had taken his prey.
“Nothing, Snow,” he practically hissed. “I was talking with Bunce, none of it concerns the likes of you.”
Everything had a catch, and this was Baz’s: being nice to everyone except Simon. Which only fueled his theory further. The Humdrum hated Simon, always targeting him and whatnot, so of course a Humdrum-possessed Baz would act this way!
“Actually, it does concern me,” Simon hissed back. “Penny is my friend. I won’t tolerate you being all weird around her!”
Baz looked properly pissed, and Simon wondered if he was finally gonna bare his fangs.
Sadly, he didn’t.
Instead, he just walked off ahead of them. “I’ll talk to you some other time, Bunce.” And just like that, he was gone.
They walked in silence after that, Penelope said nothing about Baz’s weirdness.
Penelope, who always questioned everything, didn’t question the fact that Baz had just made small talk with her? Since when had Baz made small talk with his academic rivals? Or with anyone, for that matter?!
Maybe this was Simon caring too much, maybe this was Simon reading into it too much, but it was just straight up weird. Too weird to hold back any longer.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Simon finally said.
Penelope tilted her head at him, glasses slightly sliding down her nose in the process. “What’s strange?”
“Baz! He’s been acting all weird and nice lately,” Simon couldn’t believe Penelope hadn’t seen it sooner.
She was always the more observant one of the pair, and Baz quite literally chased her down just to make small talk with her. He was starting to speculate that maybe she was possessed by the Humdrum too.
Perhaps Penelope had the same thought towards Simon because she looked at him like he’d just asked the stupidest question ever; the classic Bunce deadpan expression.
“You haven’t heard?” she scoffed when Simon shook his head. “Baz got hit by a spell in Magic Words class a few days ago. I thought that, being the stalker you are, you’d have known that already—“
“Hey! I’m not a stalker,” Simon exclaimed, before realizing the true implications of what Penelope had said. “Wait—Baz got hit by a spell? What kind?”
“A new one, I think. I wasn’t there for it, I heard it from Agatha.”
Agatha?
“What was the spell? And what did it do to get Baz acting so… abnormally.”
“Do a flip!” Penelope said without magic, “It’s meant to flip the target’s attitude so they treat people opposite to how they truly feel about them.”
Simon had never heard of that spell before, but the phrase sounded vaguely familiar. An internet meme of sorts, he was pretty sure. And then it clicked in Simon’s head.
He snapped his fingers, “That’s why he’s being so nice! Cause he actually hates everybody!” So it wasn’t the Humdrum, Simon could rest easy.
Penelope hummed in agreement, “The spell’s meant to last only a few days, he’ll be out of his funk soon enough.”
They went their separate ways after that, Penelope went into her class while Simon continued walking further down the hall to get to his. Some boring history subject he could care less about, an easy pass.
While walking, he couldn’t help but wonder how Baz had allowed himself to get spelled. Especially by such a stupid one, and in Magic Words class of all places. Miss Possibelf was not one to let careless spellcasting fly, especially ones that are rooted in trend-based internet memes.
Maybe he’d just straight up ask him; Baz was in his next class anyway.
They didn’t sit together, but Simon could feel Baz burning holes into the back of his head. Usually it was the other way around, but Baz had chosen a seat all the way in the back. Simon tried not to think about it too much, having a vampire be angry at you wasn’t a big deal, no, never!
Angry. Baz is angry at me, Simon formed the thought. Why is Baz angry at me?
He thought about what Penelope had said earlier—that the spell was essentially an attitude reversal spell. If that was so, shouldn’t Baz also be nice to Simon? They hated each other's guts, after all.
Was Baz burning holes into the back of Simon’s head out of affection? Simon highly doubted that.
He quickly drowned out the teacher’s monotone discussing and honed in on the question; why is Baz still being mean to me?
In theory, he should be extra nice to Simon. They were sworn enemies, everyone in the school knew that. They bickered, they fought, and they avoided each other as much as possible. The opposite of that would be being kind and clingy, which Baz was not doing. Which Simon did not want Baz to do, just the mere thought made him sick.
So why?
Simon could feel a migraine coming on. With all the background noise and the searing feeling of Baz’s glare from his behind, Simon was properly overwhelmed. He wished Penelope was here with him, she was always better at the thinking part of problem solving.
“Maybe you’re immune?” Penelope said over lunch, passing Simon the extra tray of butter she’d gotten him. “Maybe the massive amount of magic you carry cancels the effect out.”
Simon could feel the gears turning in his head, but he was too hungry to help them get anywhere. He started scarfing down his lunch, spreading butter generously on each slice of bread until there was none left.
“Although,” she continued, “you’ve never been immune to a spell before despite your magic.”
“Maybe this is a special case,” Simon said. “Plus, it makes sense. There’s no other reason why he’d still be mean to me unless, what, he actually doesn’t hate me?”
Penelope’s gears started turning again, Simon could see it. He could also see the moment she let it go when she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s gonna wear off anyway.”
Imagine Baz not hating Simon? Impossible.
__________
“Not so impossible now, huh?” Simon smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair from Baz’s face. “You must’ve liked me a lot; I’d never seen you look at me so hatefully before.”
Baz is practically dying from embarrassment at this point. He can’t blush, though Simon can probably still tell anyway.
“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t put the pieces together,” Baz says. “Once the spell wore off I thought it’d be only a matter of time before you confronted me, but you never did.”
Simon laughs at that, “I was too thick to get it through my head, Penelope was in denial, so we both chalked it up to me being immune.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense, you’ve never been immune to any other spell before.”
“In hindsight, yeah. But at the time,” Simon smiles sadly, “it was easier to hate you than to love you.”
Baz uses his arm to bring Simon’s head close enough to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll just become easier to love, then.”
“Don’t,” Simon says without missing a beat, draping an arm over Baz’s chest. “You don’t need to.”
He wants to hear Simon say it. So he pushes, “Why not?”
The tips Simon’s ears to turns delightfully red, Baz has to resist taking a nibble.
“I like you just the way you are.”