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I haven’t used proper magic in about a month. I use little spells to make sure Simon doesn’t suspect me. When I asked Bunce for her advice on how to go about this, she was shocked. But then she, of course, made an entire list of things I should do and take into consideration for what I was about to attempt. One of the suggestions was using as little magic as possible. Obviously, I’ve been using some magic to stay in practice, but not so much that I tire myself out. I need to save up for what I’m hoping to do. I’m going to propose to Simon.
Normally, female mages are the ones to propose, but that doesn’t apply to me and Simon. Also the fact that Simon doesn’t have magic anymore doesn’t help. When we first started dating I used to imagine him proposing to me, but I had to remind myself that he couldn’t. Not with magic anyway. In marriage rites the female does something very special to impress the male (Or female obviously, but history is very heteronormative). My mother defended my father in three duels before he accepted her proposal. She was a very gifted magician. Bunce calls her a legend. Bunce is a bit of a legend herself, not that I would admit it to her face. She stopped time for her boyfriend, Micah, when she proposed. They got married just last year.
That’s when I got this insane idea of what to propose to Simon with. And trust me, it is insane. Not that that’s ever stopped me before. Or Simon actually.
Every so often Bunce comes over to our flat to help me (Her and Micah actually live here, not America. Micah insisted she stay close to Simon. I’m very grateful). We’ve been working on the logistics of this spell pretty much since she got back from her honeymoon.
When I finally got it right she said, “Basil, I wish I could be there. This is going to go down in history books.”
She might have been crying too.
So, today is the day. I have everything planned out. As an extra precaution, I’m not allowing myself to use any magic at all today. I need to save my strength.
I’m sitting in our living room reading when Simon finally wakes up.
“Hey,” he says, his voice is groggy and makes me want to kiss him. (Everything make me want to kiss him.) He’s also wearing only boxers. Crowley help me.
“I got scones, Snow. Of the sour cherry variety.”
Simon smiles and turns toward the kitchen to where I’ve artfully placed a plate of sour cherry scones. His shoulders slump as he reaches down for a scone and I watch the way his muscles and big, red wings move. I also notice my handiwork in the form of thin scratch marks on his back.
Simon takes a bite of the scone and his eyes widen.
“Baz… are these-- they can’t be. Are these from Watford?”
“I told you, I have an in with Cook Pritchard,” I throw him a wicked grin.
“How did you even get these here? More importantly why?” Simon asks. He walks over to where I’m seated on our couch. He’s looking at me with those damn blue eyes of his and I almost crack. But I can’t let him know what my real plan is.
“I just wanted to do something nice for you. Crowley knows those scones are your one true form of happiness.” When in doubt, sass can cover up any other emotion you’re trying to hide.
Simon’s smile fades a bit. “That’s not entirely true. You make me happy too, Baz.”
“Well, good. I didn’t waste my time getting those scones then.” I kiss him.
He tastes of cherries and I love it.
The rest of the day goes without a hitch. We lounge around the flat; cuddling on the couch, kissing, watching tv. Simon occasionally getting up to eat more scones. I’m surprised he didn’t devour them all before noon.
It gets to be around five o’clock when I tell him, “Why don’t we go out tonight? Maybe a nice restaurant, a walk around London?”
Simon looks at me shocked, “Really? I should probably shower… But yeah. We should do that. Could be fun.” Then he shrugs. He’s always shrugging.
I tell him to go shower while I get dressed.
I put on the green suit I wore on Christmas Eve when Simon came to my house when we were figuring out who really killed my mother.
I’m debating whether or not to gel my hair when Simon comes out of the shower, his normally curly hair wet and sticking to his forehead, in nothing but a towel. This boy will be the death of me.
He stops in his tracks and says, “Don’t gel your hair. I like it when it’s wild.”
I grin. “If you say so, Snow. Here, you should wear this tonight.”
I gesture towards the silver suit I was supposed to wear that Christmas Eve, but I had Simon wear it instead.
“The suit from Christmas Eve? I didn’t even know you still had this. Wait, you’re wearing the green one too… What is this? Throwback night?”
“Snow, you’re an idiot. I just thought that if we’re going out, we might as well look our best.”
“Whatever, Baz.”
He put on the suit.
In the taxi to the restaurant, I start getting nervous. I doubt that I’ll be able to pull this off, but I know that I have to. I have no other choice, I’ve already gotten this far. I even tripled checked that I had the ring box in my suit pocket before leaving.
Simon holds my hand the entire taxi ride. I try to stop my hands from shaking and focus on his skin against mine, his pulse under my hand. He smells especially good after the shower, almost like pine and chocolate. (Another thing I made sure to do before tonight was feed on a deer last night. Bunce drove me out of the city after Simon went to sleep) Simon always smells so good to me, but I would never hurt him. I love him too much.
The only thing I didn’t prepare for was having to spell Simon’s wings invisible. Hopefully I have enough magic to get the job done.
We finally arrive at the restaurant I picked and we stride in, looking hotter than any couple should.
The hostess asks for the name and I say, “Pitch.”
Her back straightens and she says, “Of course, Mr. Pitch. Right this way.”
She grabs two menus and leads us to our table, a booth near the back of the restaurant so we have lots of privacy. I reserved this table about two months ago. Simon doesn’t know this, and I probably won’t tell him, but this is the same restaurant my parents went to on their first date.
“Wow, how did you even get this reservation so quickly?” Simon asks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I reply.
“Come on, Baz. You don’t have to act like that. I know you’re trying to be all mysterious, but come on.”
I sigh. “Fine. My father knows the owner.”
“Oh, cool. How?”
“He, uh…” I decide to be honest. “My father took my mother here on their first date. They came here every year on their anniversary.”
Simon looks stunned. I shouldn’t have told him. Talking about my father always makes him uncomfortable. My father doesn’t approve of our relationship for many reasons. For starters he hasn’t accepted me being gay. Then, to top it all off I’m in a relationship with the Mage’s ex-heir, the Pitches enemy.
But Simon says something I wasn’t expecting.
“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s clearly very special to you.”
This time I’m the one who's stunned.
Our waiter comes round and asks if we want any wine. I tell him we would like the Pitch special. Then I explain to Simon that since my parents came here so often, the owners starting reserving their wine of choice for them only. My father has a bottle saved from the year they got married. (He doesn’t know, but when I was fifteen I broke into the wine cellar and drank the whole thing when I was angry about my feelings for Simon and my mother’s death. Fifth year was bad for me. I replaced the bottle the day after.)
Simon orders the chef’s special (some kind of chicken dish) and I order a steak. A little on the rare side of course. The wine is even better than the first time I had it. Simon seems to like it too.
“You know, I never thought I’d be a wine guy. I never thought I’d have any of this, honestly.”
“Snow, you were always going to have the world. You’re the Chosen One.”
“Not anymore.”
“Bullshit. I’ve told you, Snow. I chose you.”
He smiles. “I know.”
We finish our dinner, casually flirting. I’m not sure if it’s the wine or the atmosphere, but Simon seems less tense than usual. Not that he is normally, but he kind of is. He usually fights with me on everything, which I love. It’s how we are, but this slight change is nice.
Our waiter comes to take our plates and asks if we want dessert. I’m full, but I know Simon could eat two desserts so I say yes. Simon gets cheesecake and I order tiramisu.
I pick at mine until Simon says, “Are you going to finish that?”
I push the plate over to him, smirking.
I watch him as he eats. It’s one of my favorite pass times. Simon eats like nothing else matters, like it’s his last meal. Which, I guess in the children’s homes he stayed at, that could’ve been true. That makes me sad. To think that the one person you love most in the world had suffered is not a happy thought.
The check comes and I pull out my credit card to pay. Simon objects.
“Baz let me pay. I have some money.”
“Simon, this is a date. I picked the restaurant, I insist on paying.”
“Fine.”
With the check paid, we leave the restaurant bellies full and fingers intertwined. We walk around the streets of London for a bit, enjoying the sweet autumn air. We pass some university students headed to a bar and it makes me miss my uni days. I graduated two years ago, so did Simon and Penelope.
As we walk we talk about nothing. The weather, our dinner (Simon can’t stop talking about the tiramisu), everything. The stars are out tonight for a change, no cloudy London. Maybe it’s the universe telling me it’s on my side.
We pass by a Starbucks and Simon stops.
“Can I get a coffee?”
“We just ate and you want coffee? You’re unbelievable, Snow.”
“You called me Simon before.”
“Not sure what you’re talking about.”
He goes in to get coffee while I wait outside, trying to pluck up the courage to propose. I told him I just wanted to enjoy the fresh air. He comes back out a few minutes later with two cups in hand.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“I got you a Pumpkin Mocha Breve. I know it’s your favorite.”
Simon never stops amazing me.
I lead him to a park I know is abandoned at night. We walk until we find a bench that looks suitable and we drink our coffee.
“The stars are brilliant, aren’t they?”
“They really are, Snow.”
I guess it’s now or never.
I put down my cup and take Simon’s hand, my wand in my other hand. Then I start casting.
“Twinkle, twinkle little star!”
“Baz, what are you doing?”
“Up above the world so high!”
“Baz!”
I finish the nursery rhyme, ignoring Simon. This needs my full attention.
At some point I closed my eyes. I finally open them when I’m finished casting.
I did it. We look like we’re in space. The stars are all around us. We’re floating. Just like when Simon pushed some of his magic into me all those years ago.
And Simon Snow is crying.
“Simon, what’s wrong?”
“I knew it. I knew you would do this. So much magic. Wasted on me.”
“Simon, no! No magic could never be wasted on you.” I grab his face. I kiss the moles on his cheeks. “Simon, I would give everything for you. Every single thing. I love you.” I pull the ring box from my suit pocket. He starts crying even more.
I open the box to reveal the silver wedding band. My heart stops beating as I wait for his answer.
“Merlin, Baz, this whole day. The scones. The restaurant. This magic… Of course I’ll marry you. I wanted to propose to you, but I don’t have any magic so…”
Aleister Crowley, I thought he would never answer. I push the ring onto his finger and kiss him. It’s magical. Like, literally magical. I feel fire on my lips and stardust on my cheeks. His hands are moving all along my back, like he can’t get me close enough. My hands are tangled in his luscious, bronze locks. I break away from him trying to catch my breath. That’s when I realize I’ve been holding the spell the whole time and I immediately feel drained. I slowly let go of the magic and we are back on the park bench.
Simon looks at me. I feel like my heart is in my throat.
“That was… just amazing. How long have you been planning this?”
I feel relieved. I thought he was going to be angry for using so much magic.
“Oh, not long. Just since Bunce got married.”
He hits my shoulder. “Baz! That was, like, a year ago!”
“Well, yeah. That much magic takes practice. Bunce helped me, actually.”
Simon sighs. “Of course she did. I assume that’s also why she and Micah decided to go on a getaway this weekend?”
“That might have something to do with it,” I smirk. “Oh, you should look at the inscription on the ring.”
He takes the ring off to inspect it. “‘I choose you’ Baz...I choose you too.”
Simon grabs my hand again and draws tiny circles on me. I sigh and snuggle my head in his shoulder and try not to pass out from all the magic I’ve just used by thinking one thought.
Simon Snow is my fiance.
I can’t wait to tell my father.