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Ilya
I can't physically stop my eyes from rolling back into my head when I find out the All Star Games are being held in London this year. All I wanted was to go somewhere warm with my husband after being stuck in the cold all winter. Back to Florida, maybe.
I walk down the stairs to our gym to complain about it, but the moment I see his face, I know I can’t say anything. His face lights up like the sun, it’s on the verge of blinding.
“Baby! Did you see the news? London! I’ve always wanted to go but hockey's never taken us there and I’ve never had the time or reason to go on my own!” He says, smiling ear to ear as he bounces up from his yoga ball to wrap his arms around my neck.
I feel myself melt into his touch. My arms wrap lazily around his back and drift lower and lower, until he’s squealing.
“I can’t believe I get to go to London with the love of my life.” He whispers into my ear, pulling me down for a kiss.
I can’t wait for this trip. All I want to do is play some damn good hockey, get drunk, and spend the rest of the weekend having endless sex with my husband.
Still, it would be nice to be somewhere that isn’t known for its rain.
Simon
This Friday, Baz will have officially finished his postgraduate program. He got his undergrad a couple years back, but needed another two years of specialized education at a Magickal University before he was qualified to teach at Watford.
Baz stuck with me through everything. Finding out about my mother. About the Mage. I was a wreck. I was so unfair to him. Eventually, it was his turn to break down, which he did, about four years ago.
I had accepted a position with the coven, tracking down and killing creatures. Even without magick, it turns out flying is a valuable skill. And I’ve always been good with a sword. When I took the position, Baz began to panic. He had finished all of his general education classes and had to declare a major. He had no idea what he wanted to do.
I tried my best to support him through the crisis. I listed off every career I could think of. The prat is good at everything. But it wasn’t until we were over for tea with Headmistress Bunce that his worries were dissolved.
“I may be biased, but I always thought you would make an excellent teacher, Basilton.” She had said.
I saw the tension leave his jaw with her words. He spent the next two days trying to rationalize it, but he didn’t need to. He had taught me love and home and comfort. Surely he could teach a bunch of teenagers how to shoot off spells.
Headmistress Bunch has already offered him a job for the upcoming school year. Come next fall, he’ll be Mr. Pitch, professor of elocution at Watford School of Magick.
I couldn’t be more proud of him, and I fully intend to make him celebrate this huge achievement. I have the whole night planned out, it starts with me making him dinner at home (I practiced the recipe three times), then we’ll go to our favorite bar, and we’ll wrap up the night naked in bed, with Baz falling asleep in my wings.
Baz
I know I should be excited that I’m done with school, it’s been a long six years of postsecondary education. Well five and half, I managed to finish a semester early, despite everything that happened in the early years. But something in me just won’t let me accept it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be done with school and I’m genuinely proud to be teaching at Watford next year, it just feels…weird?
I’ve been in school since my mom wore me in a swaddle to Watford as a newborn. And now I’m suddenly done with it?
I guess I’m not though. I’ll be teaching at the school I went to from birth until adulthood. The school I met my boyfriend at. The man who I love so much it feels like I’m having a heart attack every time he smiles at me, despite not having a heartbeat.
Speaking of Simon, he’s definitely plotting something. My last finals are on Friday. He keeps asking me the exact time I'll be out of class and home. He’s always been incredibly obvious when trying to plot.
As I’m getting home from school today, he hands me a cup of tea. I take a sip, it’s perfectly hot without burning me and made just the way I like it. I don’t know how he manages to get the temperature so perfect every time with being able to cast you’re getting warmer.
I sit down with my tea and open my laptop to do some final revisions on my postgraduate paper on the cultural differences of magick. Simon comes stumbling into the living room, he’s a disaster with no center of gravity, and I’m convinced he’ll never learn to walk properly.
“How were classes darling?” He asks, sitting on the armrest next to me, taller than me for once. He twists his finger through the strands of my hair that have fallen from the knot it's tied in.
“They were fine, love, but I really need to focus.” I say, leaning in to kiss him on the chin, eyes fixed to the computer, still typing.
“I’ll leave you alone, but hypothetically, what time do you think you’d be ready to go out on Friday if you were to. Hypothetically of course. Oh and hypothetically, would you want it to be just us or should I invite Penny and Shep?
“Hypothetically” I emphasize the word “Around 7:00 in the evening, and just us. Penny made me do shots last time we were out and I want a calm night. We’ll celebrate with them later.”
“Thank you Babe!” Simon says, as he leans down to press a quick kiss on my lips before leaving me alone like I asked. I really wish he’d come back. I never actually want Simon to leave me alone.
Shane
I know Ilya would rather go somewhere sunny, but I’ve always wanted to go to London. It's where Paddington is set, and there’s a huge queer population.
I also know Ilya’s weirdly excited about us being placed on opposite teams for the All Star Game. We love playing for the same team, but there’s something so exhilarating about playing against each other after all these years. Not to mention how hot it is when he makes a quip at me or slams me into the boards.
Yeah, maybe hockey is foreplay. Sue me.
I’m sitting on the floor of our bedroom with both of our suitcases sprawled open and piles of clothes scattered around. Ilya's plenty capable of packing for himself, but he waits until the very last minute. Once, he actually brought an entire load of clean clothes and his suitcase into the car and packed it on the way to the airport. At a certain point I’d rather just pack for him. I don’t mind, it means I get to dress him just the way I like.
I’m tucking socks into Ilya’s suitcase when he strolls out from the bathroom, towel hung low around his hips. My eyes flutter up, then back down. No Shane. Focus, get this done then you can climb your husband like a tree.
“What’s wrong любовь? Stressed about losing the game?” He strolls toward me, carding both of his hands through my hair. I’m still sitting on the ground and I have a clear view up his towel. It takes every bit of self control in me not to tug it off him. I’m already on my knees, it would be so easy.
No. Bad Shane. Focus. Get the packing done.
“I love you, but please go away Ilya.” I say, grabbing a stack of dress pants and tucking them into my suitcase.
“No.” He states, but he’s already walking away from me to grab a pair of boxer briefs. And of course, they’re all he wears as he settles onto the bed and watches me finish packing our suitcases.
Tomorrow we leave for London, and I could not be more excited.
Simon
I’ve always woken up before Baz and that isn’t any different this morning. I sneak out of the room as quietly as possible so as to not wake him. I make his tea and oatmeal just the way he likes. Baz doesn’t like a lot of sugar in the morning. If it were up to me, we’d be eating sour cherry scones everyday, for every meal.
As I slip back into the room with a mug and bowl, I see Baz standing in front of the mirror, knotting his tie. His hair is in his face, his hands are moving frantically, and his tie is one wrong move from turning into ash, likely taking him along with it. He’s a nervous wreck. It’s his last day of University and he has to defend his graduate dissertation.
He’s going to do brilliantly. I’ve read it in all its stages and I managed to stay fully engaged despite me not exactly being fond of academics. Baz is the most clever person, or otherwise I know. He’s going to make a dazzling teacher.
I set his tea and oatmeal down on the bedside table, before coming up behind him and wrapping my hands around his waist. My hands interlock over his stomach and I press a soft kiss into his neck. I get a bit of his hair in my mouth, it tastes like earl grey, like Baz.
"Good morning my love.” I whisper into his ear.
He tilts his head back onto my shoulder, a little awkwardly given the height difference. He sets his hands over mine, abandoning their death grip on his tie.
“Morning.” He whispers back, matter of factly.
“I love you.” I say turning him around in my arms and doing his tie up for him.
“Snow, you can’t tie a tie correctly.” He says, but his voice is soft and he continues to let my hands work.
“Yes I can, you taught me.” I say back, as I finish knotting the tie. I adjust it and turn him back in the mirror, “See? Perfect.”
“Thank you, love.” He coos, reaching up to readjust the tie. The git couldn’t let me do one nice thing for him without correcting it.
I roll my eyes and attempt to mess up the tie to piss him off but he swats my hands away and pulls me in for a hug so suffocating that my wings start to cramp up. On instinct, my tail skirts up between his arms and my wings to allow some breathing room.
Baz jumps away, “Sorry love, was I hurting you?”
I pull him back into a hug.
Baz
I make my way back to the house slowly after class. It’s difficult to believe I just finished university. I know Simon is planning something and I need the walk back to mentally prepare.
When I open the door, I find Simon on the other side. He’s head to toe covered in flour and cursing at a pot of potatoes.
“Merlin! How are you still not fork tender?” He asks the potatoes, glaring down at them like he expects a response.
“Snow, what have you done to my beautiful and clean kitchen?” I ask, setting my bag down and toeing my shoes off.
He practically runs toward me, tracking flour all through the living room, “Darling! How did it go?” He starts to pepper my face with kisses before I can respond.
When he finally pulls away, I smile, letting him know it went well.
“Well, Mr.Pitch,” He says cheekily, “Supper will be ready in a half hour and then I plan to get you well drunk at The Village. Oh! And don’t worry I stopped by the butchers, there’s blood in the fridge.”
Ilya
“I win game, I get whatever I want.” I say, leaning into Shane just before the puck drops.
“And if I win?” He responds, staring at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. I can see the blush rising to his cheeks. His freckles pop out around his nose.
“Will not happen.” I say and the puck drops.
Shane has managed to score two goals on me, the cheeky bastard smirked at me both times. He stole my move.
It’s the beginning of the third period, and the game is tied, but there’s simply no way we're going into overtime. Not if I have anything to say about it.
“Любовь, you are skating wrong way.” I say to Shane as he speeds toward my goal. He looks around for a split second in confusion. Just long enough for me to steal the puck from under him.
“You asshole!” He shouts as I skate toward his goal. I scored the winning goal just seconds before the buzzer went off.
After the game, we shower, change, and head back to the hotel room. Shane is absolutely steaming. I can see the anger in his eyes, it almost covers up the lust.
“So?” He asks, pulling me flush to his body the second the door closes behind us, “What do you want?”
I kiss him for a second, hard and greedy. I pull away just as he sneaks his tongue into my mouth.
“I want you to want me all night.” I say and he groans.
“Ilya, I want you now.” He says, trying to pull me back into a kiss.
“Da, and you will want me even more after night out at the bar.”
I really do want to tear him apart, but Shane’s always wanted to visit London and I know he’ll regret it later on if we stay in our hotel room the whole time we’re here. We leave on Monday and I’m making it my personal duty to ensure Shane gets the real London experience.
Apparently, part of that “London experience” is the gay pub scene, which is where I intend to take Shane tonight. Harris had traveled here a couple years ago and raved about a queer bar called The Village.
Simon
When we get to The Village, we take our usual seats at the counter. When we had been given the house by my grandmother, we walked to the closest pub to celebrate. It turned out to be the coziest gay pub run by an old lesbian couple, we’ve been regulars ever since.
Everytime we’ve got something to celebrate, sorrows to drown, or a free weekend night, The Village is where we go.
“Simon and Baz!” Kyle, the bartender says as we sit down. He quickly deposits a lager in front of me and a glass of red in front of Baz.
“Thanks Kyle.” I say raising my pint.
Baz turns around in his stool to face the door. With me toward the counter, we’re face to face. He slides his hand onto my knee and very slowly inches it up. He seems to think if he moves slowly enough I won’t notice. When his hand gets to the crease where my thigh meets my hip, he leans in.
“So…winner gets whatever they want.” He says gesturing toward the pool table.
“Baz, we’re celebrating you. I’ll give you whatever you want already.” I say, trying to calm the blush on my face. It’s no use, Baz will always have this effect on me.
“Well good. I suck at pool.” He laughs, getting up and walking toward the table. It’s true, he does suck at pool. He’s the most brilliant being I know. He’s beautiful, and can make someone feel every emotion possible just by playing his violin. But the man cannot play pool.
Baz
I’m chalking the end of my pool cue, when I see them walk in. Two men. One of them is jaw droppingly fit. Seeing him gets me so worked up, I’m tempted to take Simon into the bathroom and have my way with him.
He’s got sandy blonde curls, nearly as unkept as Simon’s. His muscles are so contoured, he could probably tear me in half, straight down the middle. His thighs are insane, and when he turns around, Circe, the man's arse is like nothing I’ve seen before.
A few years back, Simon and I would never admit it when we found another person attractive. We were both too insecure. Now it’s a fun game for us to find the fittest person in the room. We always come home to each other, our loyalty is solid in place.
“Snow” I shout in an attempt at whispering, I poke him in the foot with my pool cue to make sure I really have his attention.
“Nicks and Slicks, what?”
“Don’t look now but the fittest man I’ve ever seen just walked in.” Simon rolls his eyes at me and scoffs, “The second fittest man,” I add, walking over to him and giving his arse a quick squeeze.
Simon
Baz really wasn’t kidding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as pretty as the one who just walked in. Save for Baz, of course. Nobody could ever be as pretty as Baz. But this man, dark hair, lean muscle, and the most adorable freckles littering his face. Maybe this is what Baz sees in my moles.
“Morgana, yeah.” I sigh.
“Snow, I say not to stare.” He elbows me in the gut.
“Oi! Baz you’re staring too.”
“Yeah, obviously. Do you see that man's arse? His curls look just like yours. He’s the second most delicious man in here.”
I start laughing, bending over myself, “You can have him, babe. I was looking at his boyfriend."
Shane
I really didn’t want to come out tonight after the game, but it's a lovely night and I’m thankful Ilya dragged me out. London was the perfect location for the All Star game, nobody here cares about hockey, which means we can walk to the bar without being surrounded by fans.
We walk into the bar and I think I may have depended on the UK’s apathy for hockey a little too soon. There are two men staring directly at us, exchanging whispers back and forth.
Out of all the people that could be obsessing over us, I’m glad it's them. They truly are a beautiful couple.
One of them is tall and slender with dark silky hair falling onto his shoulders. His cheekbones are defined, eyes gray, he looks almost vampiric. As beautiful as the taller man is, he’s got nothing on his partner. The man next to him has a full head of absolutely wild bronze curls. He’s wearing a hoodie, but I can tell his arms are soft and muscular under it. He’s solid and strong looking.
I start to stare back just as the handsome man bends over in laughter. Maybe they aren’t fans?
Ilya either doesn’t notice them or doesn’t care.
“Are you going to stand there or go get drink?” He asks, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the bar. He orders us beers from an old butch woman and takes a seat at one of the stools, patting the one next to him for me to sit in.
“I hear pool is very popular game in England. We should play, get full London experience.” He says, gesturing to the air with his hand.
“There’s no free tables,” I respond, and thank God for that. I've never played pool and I don’t need tonight to be the first time.
“Those men are still setting up. Maybe they let us join, two versus two.” He says, already standing up and walking toward them.
Simon
“Babe, they’re walking straight toward us,” I say, as I rack the balls.
“What, who?” Baz says, looking up. I don’t have to respond before Baz is standing up straight and brushing the stray hair from his eyes. I insisted he wear it down tonight, it drives me crazy when it’s all loose.
“Hello, I’m Ilya, this is my Husband Shane.” The tall muscular bloke says, extending his hand to shake Baz’s, then mine. His voice is thick, deep, and accented. I haven’t traveled much, but his voice is unmistakable Slavic.
“Hello lads.” Baz says, voice cool and confident as ever. “What brings you round here?”
“We were hoping you’d allow us to join your game. Totally fine if not, I’ve never actually played pool but my husband really loves it and wanted to get a round in.” The gorgeous man with dark hair says, Shane, apparently. His accent is similar to the ones I heard when we went to America, but it trails up a bit at the end of his sentences. I can’t quite place it.
I let out a quick laugh, “Of course lads, my boyfriend is a disaster at pool, so you’ll fit right in, I’m Simon by the by.” I shake his hand, then his husband’s.
“I’m Basil.” Baz says, extending his hand.
Ilya
“Simon, you are on my team.” I say crossing over to exchange spots with his boyfriend, “Our, what do you call them…disasters can be together, I want to win.”
Maybe I shouldn’t be pissing off his boyfriend. I’m about the same height as him, and definitely more built, but something about him just feels threatening. He’s got high cheekbones and almost gray skin, his nose is slightly crooked.
“Hell yeah!” Simon says as I give him an encouraging slap on the back, “Baz get ready to crash and burn so hard, you’ll be praying to Merlin for mercy.”
I give Simon a weird look, who the hell is Merlin? These London boys talk really funny. English is hard enough already.
We start playing and it becomes abundantly clear that Shane and Basil really have no idea what they’re doing. The game slides from something competitive to Simon and I relentlessly teasing our men as we all laugh hysterically.
When the game is over, we all settle at a table together and order another round.
“I’m sorry, I just have to ask this” Simon leans in, “what in the world do you blokes do to look like that.” he gestures up and down at my body and giggles a bit.
Shane hesitates for a second, “We play hockey.”
“Like the ice skating sport?” Baz asks. I guess people really don’t know hockey in the UK.
“That’s the one.” I respond.
“Well let me just say, it’s really working for you. And Baz agrees, he was practically ogling you when you first walked in.”
“Snow.” Baz smacks his boyfriend on the thigh, “why would you tell him that?”
Shane
“Snow? I thought your name was Simon.”
“Yeah. It is.” Simon sighs out, rolling his eyes at Basil, “Simon Snow. This idiot has been calling me by my surname since school. He only calls me Simon when he’s really got his guard down. So almost never.”
“Wait, so you’ve known each other since school? Did you meet at Uni?”
Basil lets out a huff, “No, it was a…boarding school of sorts. We met when we were eleven.”
“You have been together since eleven?” Ilya asked, wide eyed.
“Oh Merlin no!” Simon exclaims like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. “We hated each other, sworn enemies. It’s an absolute miracle we never killed each other.”
“It’s true. I spent seven years sleeping a meter away from him and never did anything. I never really hated him though.” Basil looks at Simon in the way I look at Ilya, absolutely smitten, absolutely in love.
“I don’t think I’d be able to resist if I was sleeping next to him.” I say, the beer clearly impacting my judgement. The words are just falling from my mouth.
“I spent many nights furiously wanking in the shower.” Basil confesses as he looks down at his lap. Simon grabs his hand and brings Basil’s palm to his mouth, kissing it.
“And now when he furiously wanks in the shower, I get to watch.” He announces proudly.
Baz
“So now that we got that out of the way, how did you lot meet? Work, I assume.”
“Yes, work.” Ilya says, but he’s got a smirk on his face and I know there’s more to the story.
“How long have you been playing together?” Simon asks.
“This will be our third season, but we met back in 2008. We played on different teams for a long time.” Shane says, he’s blushing already.
“How long have you been together?” I ask, their relationship seems almost as complicated as mine and Simon’s.
“That is difficult question.” Ilya remarks, ruffling his hands through his husband's hair. “We have been together for 13 years. Been married for four.”
“We weren’t exactly…commited for the first several years of our relationship.” Shane adds.
“So you were what? Just snogging for the first decade of your relationship?” Simon leans in, he’s always been nosey. Even I have to admit I’m interested.
I smirk and hit Simon on the arm, “Snow, I can say for certain they didn’t stop at snogging.”
“What is this ‘snogging?’ we were fucking. Well I was fucking him.” Ilya says, an evil grin washed over his face as he locks eyes with Shane.
“It was complicated. We were on rival teams. There was a lot of attention on us, and you weren’t allowed to be gay in hockey.” Shane says, sinking into his seat a bit.
“That does sound complicated.” Not at complicated as the Chosen One and a vampire from the Old Families, but complicated nonetheless.
I do have to admit, I’m a tad jealous they went straight to the erotic grope fest and saved the feelings for later. It took years for me and Simon to figure the whole sex thing out. Not that it wasn’t worth it. It was. 100%.
Simon
“Hey! I have a wonderful idea! We should do shots. Ya know, to complicated gay relationships.”
Ilya shouts yes at the same time Baz and Shane shout no. It’s no use, Ilya and I are already up to grab a round.
Kyle, the bartender squints when Ilya approaches the counter, “Wait, are you Ilya Rozanov?”
“The one and only.”
“So that must be Shane Hollander!” Kyle says, face lighting up. “I’m a huge fan! I wanted to go to the game tonight but couldn’t get work off. I had the livestream pulled up on my phone behind the bar the whole time. I can’t believe that shot you made before the buzzer went off, talk about a comeback. Drinks are on the house tonight and let me know if you need anything!”
I had no idea Baz and I were in the presence of actual celebrities. I suddenly feel a little stupid for taking up so much of their time. I don’t know that I’d be able to tell the difference between figure skating and hockey, but I guess it’s pretty bloody important.
“Erm…if you and your husband want to, ya know not be dragged into spending your evening with us, you can leave. We’ll be okay, really. I don’t want to take up your time.”
He simply responds “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t know you were like, famous. I’ve been telling you all sorts of embarrassing stuff.”
“Simon, I will let you in on secret. I do not always like being famous. I like to hang out in gay bar with hot couple and talk about things other than hockey.”
“Are you sure?”
“Da. I am sure you are hot couple. What I am not sure about is why you are not married. If I were you, I’d never let that go.” He gestures toward Baz who is laughing with Shane about something. He looks so happy, so warm. He’s not warm, not unless I warm him myself.
I sink into a bar stool and Ilya sits next to me. I rest my chin on my hand, staring at Baz. I took a deep breath in and sigh out, “He’s too good for me.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no.’”
“I mean no, Simon. I told myself for years that Shane was too good for me. We both deserve good things. He is good things. If you want husband, ask him. He will say yes.”
“I know you’re famous, so not to insult your opinion, but how could you possibly know that he’ll say yes?”
Ilya doesn’t respond. No, much worse. He stands up, walks back to the table and interrupts Baz and Shane’s conversation.
“Your boyfriend and I are trying to settle a debate.” He says to Baz. I stand frozen in place. I try to stop Ilya but nothing will come out of my mouth and my limbs have forgotten how to move.
“I’m sure you’re right. Snow’s an idiot. But what’s the debate?”
“Would you say yes if Simon wanted you to be husband? I think yes.”
Shane
My husband is obnoxious, but he’s a romantic and it always seems to work out when he gets in other people's business.
Baz stands up from his seat and crowds Simon. He stands a few inches taller than him, just as Ilya stands above me.
He places a hand on each side of his boyfriend's face. His fingers are long and slim, his fingernails painted black.
“Simon, of course I would marry you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, love.”
Did I just witness a proposal? Did my husband just force someone to propose?
I’m dragged from that train of thought when a group of five or six men enter the bar. They’re all incredibly attractive. defined facial features, dimples, nice suits. And for some reason, Simon and Basil go into immediate panic the second they walk in.
They jump apart and turn to us. “You lot need to get out of here. Now.”
Ilya
“What?” Shane half asks half yells as he looks toward the door. I'm not sure why he's so surprised. Couple was in love, couple is getting married. Makes sense.
They want us to leave so they can rip their clothes off.
“моя любовь, they want us to leave so they can have hot hot sex.” I slide so the side of my chest is pressed ever so slightly against Shane's back. My hand creeps up his arm and trails to the back of his ears, fingertips dancing on his skin. His breath hitches just enough for me - and only me, to hear. “I'm sure you understand the…what is word?”
“Sentiment?” He offers, craning his neck to kiss me.
“NO!” Simon shouts, breaking us apart and shoving towards the back. “Follow me. You need to listen to me, it is for your own safety, okay? That's all I can say.” He rambles as he pushes us into a storage closet in the backroom of the bar. He's talking so fast, I only actually understand half of it.
Shane is sitting in the corner of the storage closet, as I try to jam the door open. It feels like there's a chair or something heavy on the other side.
“Baby.” Shane says, his voice faltering. I’m too focussed on getting us out of here to respond. I mean who the hell has the audacity to shove two NHL players in a storage closet after spending the night laughing and drinking with them. I had practically planned their wedding.
When I see Simon Snow it's on sight.
“Ilya, please.” Shane’s voice is barely a whisper now.
I turn around and see Shane balled up in the corner between a crate of whiskey and a keg that looks about 100 years old. His knees are pulled into his chest with his head tucked into them. His shoulders are shaking up and down. Quiet muffled sob noises escape him.
I abandon the door and sit next to my husband, pulling his knees out and onto my lap. I tuck his head into my chest and run my hand through his hair.
I can’t believe I was too caught up in trying to get us out that I forgot to comfort Shane. My love. My sunshine.
“Is okay, моя любовь. I am here. We will get out. It will all be okay.” I say pulling his face away from my chest and wiping the tear tracks away with my thumbs. His sobs slow and his breathing steadies.
Baz
Of course goblins had to walk in just as Simon had basically proposed to me. Simon manages to track monsters everywhere he goes, like a small child tracking mud into the house.
Except this isn’t mud. It’s five goblins. Atrociously fit creatures if it weren’t for the faint green tint to their skin and the goo they bleed. Their blood is no good to drink, useless terrors, really.
At least they’re fairly easy to kill.
We manage to get everyone in the bar outside, save for the two figure skating oafs who Simon had to shove in a closet in the back somewhere.
I’m able to knock the goblins on their asses, but killing creatures has always been Simon’s speciality.
When Simon returns to my side, I cast silence is golden and nothing to see here, rendering our magick invisible to the outside world.
He wastes no time ripping his (my) tattered old jumper off, tearing the back of it on the spades of his wings. His tail slithers out from his trousers, hitting my ankle like a Razor scooter. Asking Simon to fight goblins without his wings and tail out is like asking me to fight them without my wand.
“Simon Snow!” One of the goblins shrieks. He's oozing green from a gash on his arm from where he had fallen against the bar.
“What the bloody hell do you want?” Simon asks, more annoyed at the inconvenience than actually scared.
“You are your blood sucking boyfriend wrecked our home and now you must die!” Another goblin shouts from his place under a nearby table. It was true, Simon had been sent by the coven to bust a goblin hut a few weeks back and had taken me with him. He told me he thought it would be romantic. I can’t believe I fell for such a disaster.
“He’s my Fiance!” Simon corrects him in a yell as he slashes his throat with the spade of his tail. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. I am so in love with him. When this is all over I’m going to massage all the tension out of his wings and then do some very bad things to that tail.
I knock the remaining goblins down as they stand back up and Simon kills them one by one. Crowley, I’m going to need more blood after this.
Shane
I’m not sure how long it’s been, but it feels like I may as well have spent the night here. There has been loud crashing noises drifting in from the main bar area for awhile but they seem to have quieted down.
Ilya tried to calm me down by kissing my neck in the places he knows drive me crazy, but for once, I wasn’t in the mood.
I hear rustling right outside the door, before it’s kicked in by none other than Simon-fucking-Snow. Basil is standing right behind him. They both look a mess. Simon is wearing the same hoodie from before, but it’s ripped up and I can see something dark red and leathery peeking out. There’s gooey green stuff all over him. He looked like he just escaped from the movie “Flubber.”
Basil looks just as disheveled, but somehow still elegant? His plum colored suit is doing an excellent job at disguising the green goo. I want to scream at them for locking us in the closet, but based on the state of them, there has to be a good reason.
That doesn’t stop my husband.
“Simon Snow! You are dead man!” He stands up from his place next to me and grabs the sides of Simon’s hoodie, pulling him into him.
“Back off mate.” Basil says, his voice possessive, teetering on predatory. He moves to stand in front of Simon. I put a hand on Ilya's shoulder in hope to settle him. He glances over at me and the tension in his jaw eases up a bit.
“There is a perfectly logical explanation for all of this.” Simon states plainly.
Ilya and I stare at him, waiting for said explanation. But the man says nothing. He just stands there with his terrifying vampiric boyfriend guarding him.
“Which is?”
Basil slips an actual fucking wand from his sleeve, “It slipped my mind.”
Ilya
What the fuck is happening right now? What the fuck did they do to my husband? I knew we shouldn’t have come to this awful city. London is a fucked place with fucked people. If you can call whatever these things are people.
Shane is so confused. He’s looking around the bar like he just got knocked out bad on the ice.
“Baby, where are we?” He asks me. “What happened? Who are these people?” He’s terrified, trembling.
“We are getting out of here right now.” I grab his hand and try to pull him toward the door and out of the bar, but Basil stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I should be able to take him, I’ve got twice the muscle, but he’s inhumanly strong. His hand is an iron vise.
“You remember what happened?” Basil asks me
“Yes. Now get the fuck off of me. I don’t know what you are, but you and your boyfriend need to stay away from my husband.”
“My Fiance.” Basil corrects, smirking. The bastard. I would kill him if I could.
Basil turns to Simon, “Love, will you help please?” And suddenly a fucking dragon tail is slithering from Simon’s pants and around Shane and I, restraining us. What the fuck is happening? Did someone spike my drink? Did I die and go to hell?
“Baby.” Shane whines from beside me.
“Всё будет хорошо, моя любовь. Я вытащу нас отсюда.” I whisper to him, not believing the words myself, but hoping it will calm him down.
Simon
When I hear Ilya speak Russian, a lightbulb goes off in my brain. I elbow Baz in the gut.
“Nicks and Slicks! What was that for?”
“Baz you’re such a git, really.” I roll my eyes. “The spell didn’t work on him because he’s bloody Russian. He doesn’t know the phrase. Spells are only as powerful as the words behind them, and those words carry no meaning to him. You should really know that, Mr.Pitch.”
“Well what bloody spell can I use on him?”
“You can not use any ‘bloody spell’ on me!” Ilya yells from his place a foot away, still restrained by my tail.
“What’s happening?” Shane asks.
I look back at Baz, ignoring Shane and Ilya, “I think he’s right. Unless you know a bunch of Russian phrases, he might be spell-proof.”
Baz scoffs and looks back to our new friends, he casts as you were on Shane. The memory floods back into Shane’s eyes. A mix of terror and confusion washing over him. There’s really no point in spelling Shane’s memory away if his husband's memory still remains.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” He screams, attempting to claw at my tail. Failing. My tail is stronger than Baz’s vampire strength. Nothing can get past it.
“Calm down mate.” I tell him, uselessly, “We’re going to go back to our house, have some tea, and explain everything.”
Ilya tries to get a few words in, but Baz cuts him off, “Listen, we do not want to hurt you. We simply need to explain what has happened and we need you to promise you will not tell anyone. Not a single soul. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Shane says, and Ilya nods reluctantly next to him.
Shane
We walk back to the freaks house. We aren’t restrained anymore, Simon’s tail is tucked back into his pants. I thought about running, but Basil assured me that it wouldn’t go well. That he’d be faster. I don’t want to test that theory.
Their house is adorable. It’s hard to believe such evil monsters live here. It’s a tall and skinny townhouse. Painted a dark blue, with lavender trim. The inside is delightfully cozy, lowlight with rugs lining the halls. It’s not modern by any means, the floor creaks as you walk. You can see the drooping of the glass in the windows. It’s nothing like the houses I own. You can tell this place is a home.
If it weren’t for the sword collection lining the wall of the living room, I’d almost forget we were being kidnapped.
“Don’t mind those lads, Snow likes to drag his toys home.” Basil says, gesturing to said sword collection.
“Have a seat. I’m going to make tea and we’ll talk.” Simon shouts as he heads toward the kitchen.
We sit on the couch. I’m halfway on Ilya’s lap, clutching onto his shoulder for dear life. He smooths his hand over my thigh to comfort me.
Simon returns and sets a tray of tea and cookies in front of us. Neither of us reach for them. He sits on the arm rest of the chair across from us, where Basil is already seated.
“So,” He starts, “You probably have some questions.”
“Yes. Obviously, like what the fuck in happening?” I half yell, half cry.
Basil takes a deep breath, “This is going to be a lot to handle, all right?”
“Yes! Okay! Get on with it!” Ilya screams from next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me in.
“Simon and I are mages.”
“Well I’m not, anymore.”
“What the fuck is a mage? And why the fuck do you have a tail?” I ask from my place under Ilya’s arm.
“A mage is a magician and the wings and tail are a long story. Too long for right now. Like if that story was a book, it would have to be a trilogy.”
Okay so I must have taken a bad hit in the All Star game. I got knocked out so bad that I fell down the rabbit hole and ended up in Hogwarts. What the hell is happening?
“You have wings too?!” Ilya stands up and starts to claw at Simon’s hoodie. If I wasn’t so utterly confused, I’d think my husband was trying to undress another man.
“Oi, bugger off! If you wanted to see me undress, all you had to do was ask.” Simon stands up from the arm rest and pulls the hoodie off. Basil’s glare gets impossibly more possessive, it reminds me of Ilya.
Huge red wings unfurl from his back. He looks like a fucking dragon.
Ilya
“So you are dragon and he is Harry Potter.”
“Nobody is Harry Potter.” Basil scoffs. “I am a mage, and a vampire and he just has wings and a tail.” He says it so casually, like he’s talking about his weekend plans or his favorite color.
“I knew you were vampire!”
Simon starts hysterically laughing, “I know, right! He screams ‘vampire,’ he may as well have, ‘I love rat blood’ written on his forehead.”
“Ew! Rat blood?” Shane asks, leaning in.
“I would never drink a person, and rats are rampant here.”
“He’s doing us a favour, really. Pest control, ya know?” Simon says, grabbing Baz’s chin and tilting it up. He places a quick peck on Basil’s lips and looks back at us.
“So what the fuck happened back there?” I gesture into the air.
“Goblins.” Simon says, like it's common sense. These two really don't seem to understand how crazy they seem.
“But they were so…so” Shane stumbles out.
Basil cuts him off, “You would not be the only one to find goblins fit.” He rolls his eyes at Simon.
“They are fit!” Simon exclaims.
“So all the magic fairytale stuff is real?” Shane leans in further, he's about to fall off the couch.
“Most of it. There's a lot of misconceptions.” Basil says back.
“Can you go in the sun?” I ask.
Simon lets out a laugh, “Nobody as pale as him can go out in the sun. He doesn't turn to ash though, if that's what you're asking.”
“Wait, are all vampires that pale? Because you don't look white. Like racially speaking.” Shane asks. I'm thankful he's the one who voiced it. I was wondering too, but it didn’t seem like the thing I should ask.
“Most of them are kinda…grey. But they can be any race. I'm actually half Egyptian, I just happen to turn paper white when I was turned.”
“I have many vampire questions,” I say.
I open my mouth again and Basil cuts me off. “Yes I can eat garlic, yes I age. No, I do sparkle in the sun. Yes, crosses burn me, yes, I am impossibly fast and strong. And no, I will not show you my fangs.”
“Damn, I really wanted to see them.” My husband sighs from next to me.
Simon nods at Shane, “They're hot. You're just going to have to take my word for it.”
Baz
I told myself that I'd never do as much as speak to a normal. That’s not realistic, unfortunately. I've got to go to the shop, and my first four years of uni were with normals.
Then I told myself that I'd never let a normal into my home. But of course, Shepard is here all the bloody time. I'm unsure if he counts as normal. He's certainly been cursed an abnormal amount of times.
But Morgana knows why there are two normals laughing on my couch about my vampirism and Simon's wings and tail.
And Merlin knows why Simon’s making another pot of tea. I guess we’ve adopted two normals now. Shep’s going to be so excited.
“Baz!” Simon shouts from the kitchen.
“What love?” I yell back from the chair I’m still resting on.
“Be a dear and help me carry the tea.”
I go to the kitchen to fetch the tea. As I’m walking back towards the living room, I am stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of Shane straddling Ilya. His face is shoved into the crook of his neck.
Curse my stealth and vampire hearing, “I bet their sex is insane. Can you imagine what you do to me with a fucking tail. And fangs. Iyla, why can’t you be a vampire?” Shane whines into Ilya’s ear before biting him right below the ear.
Snow stumbles in behind me, startling them.
Shane falls ungracefully off Ilya’s lap, “Um, sorry um.” He’s blushing, freckles rising to the surface of his cheeks.
His freckles have got nothing on Simon’s moles.
“Sorry, my husband got a little carried away,” Ilya snickers, clearly unapologetic. He wraps his arm around Shane and pulls him in by the hip.
I stride back to my chair, dropping the tea onto the table “I suppose now’s a great time to mention that vampires also have great hearing. And yes, our sex is insane.”
Simon sits cross legged on the floor, leaning his back on my shins after he sets biscuit next to the tea. He cranes his neck, placing a kiss on my knee before turning back to Shane and Ilya.
“There’s no way your sex isn’t insane. You lads are gorgeous and athletic.” He says and the bastard bloody winks.
“Imagine what the four of us could do together.”
I’m not sure which one of us said that out loud.