Work Text:
From the moment Baz first saw Sophie Snow, she knew she was fucked. Snow was the kind of girl who always looked like a fucking mess, oversized flannel shirts and boots that didn't quite fit and hair that never really looked clean.
(And her eyes were the bluest that Baz had ever seen, sending lightning down her spine every time they made eye contact.)
But she was kind, and friendly, and enthusiastic enough that her teachers did their best to keep her from failing.
And Baz hated her on principle, hated her because despite her raggedy clothes she looked a hell of a fucking lot happier than Baz felt.
Baz was out, sure, although her father preferred to ignore that. And she was hardly inexperienced, even if she couldn't remember the names of half her conquests. But there was something about Snow that made Baz want to be innocent, that made Baz want to be nice.
But she wasn't nice, and she never would be, so when Snow smiled at her on the first day Baz scowled and glared at her. And she had to hate Snow - had to hate her because if she didn't hate her she might end up in love with her, and that was the worst fucking thing she could imagine.
*
It was mid-September, and for some unknown fucking reason Baz and Snow just had to end up being lab partners. Which would be fine if Snow would just let Baz do the experiments herself, but more often than not that wasn't the case. And on those days, the days where Snow was unpredictable and stubborn, something almost always went fucking wrong.
(Snow managed to burn some of Baz's hair off one day. She tried to apologise, all awkward and earnest, but Baz just glared at her. When she came back on Monday with a pixie cut and bright red lipstick and a look that dared someone to question it, no one said a thing.)
So the third time Snow accidentally set off the fire alarm, Baz had already texted Vera to come and pick her up. Because Snow was fucking predictable.
*
Every morning Baz would wake up an hour early to put on her makeup. Because it was easier to pretend she hated Sophie fucking Snow if she had something to hide behind. Building up that wall in the morning, in the quiet of the not-quite-dawn, made it a little easier to pretend Snow didn't chip at her defences with every word (or look, or smile, or laugh.)
*
At the start of October, Snow approached Baz at lunch with a wary look and an invitation.
(And she still looked like she hadn't even fucking looked at what she was wearing when she put it on that morning. And that definitely didn't make Baz want to kiss her.)
Usually Baz sat alone at lunch, in the corner so she could keep an eye on everything. Sometimes Nina (or one of the other girls) sat with her, but they were all on the basketball team and were busy most days.
(Sometimes Baz wondered if they were avoiding her because of the gay thing, or maybe just because she was a bitch, but she had enough on her plate without worrying about whether or not her sort-of-friends were her sort-of-friends after all.)
"Baz?" Snow said her name like it was a question, like it was valuable. Baz forced herself to look bored, that half-glare that made Snow look away most days. But she wasn't looking away this time.
"That's my name - don't wear it out, Snow," Baz said, examining her nails (because Fiona had taken her for a manicure last weekend so they could bitch about how goddamn awful men were, and they still looked pretty good.)
Snow sighed. "Don't you think you could call me by my actual name, just once? Anyway, that's not why I came over. My friend Penelope's having a party on Halloween, and I was wondering if you wanted to come."
Baz looked up, surprised (for once). And there was actually an invitation in Snow's hand, now she was looking at her properly.
(The invitation was written in calligraphy. Baz recognised Snow's handwriting from writing up experiments. There was nothing weird about that.)
"Why should I?" Baz asked, finally making eye contact with Snow (something she hated doing, because Snow's stupid blue eyes made her feel like a fucking powder keg about to explode. Like fire and lightning and burning, but in the best way. It was absolutely fucking awful.)
Snow half-smiled and ran her hand through her unbrushed hair. "I can't really give you a reason, I guess, but it'll be fun. And it's a costume party!"
Before Baz could even answer (and she still wasn't sure what she would have said), Snow was walking away.
A fucking costume party.
Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
*
Baz stared at the invitation that night. She hadn't decided whether or not she would go, but it still made her feel a little fuzzy to think about it.
She tore it to pieces.
The next day, she asked Daphne if she could go out on Halloween night.
*
When Baz arrived at Bunce's party, she was decked out in costume. It didn't matter that she wasn't white, because she was still the best fucking vampire there. Fangs, and a cape, and fake blood, and a fucking flower crown that belonged to her baby sister.
(Snow gave her a little smile when she walked in, as if she knew something Baz didn't. As if she'd been completely fucking sure that Baz was going to show up. Which was ridiculous. Even Baz hadn't know that Baz was going to show up.)
Snow was dressed up as some awful hybrid of the devil and a witch and some sort of wicked angel. She had a pointed tail and red wings and a pointy hat. Baz thought she looked ridiculous, and even went over to tell her as much.
"I'm a witch!" Snow protested. She was a little bit tipsy at this point, since someone had spiked the punch earlier. Apparently no one had told Snow that.
"What kind of a witch has wings and a tail?" Baz asked, rearranging her cape. (Stupid cape.)
"The kind whose spell went wrong!"
Baz sighed. Drunk Snow was even worse than normal Snow, because drunk Snow was leaning on her and rubbing up against her in all the wrong ways.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Snow stage-whispered in Baz's ear. Baz sighed again, and nodded. (It was like babysitting Mordelia, except Mordelia wouldn't be caught dead in such a bad fucking costume.)
Snow whispered again, "I got all this at the dollar store. It was cheaper to buy all of it than to get a real costume. Just don't tell Baz, 'cause I think she'd hate me more if she knew that. She could probably buy my whole house and not even dent her bank account."
Oh.
Baz wasn't sure what to say, so she just nodded, smiled, moved along. Because she was starting to realise that Sophie fucking Snow might be the death of her, even if Snow thought she was a snob.
(Maybe especially because Snow thought she was a snob.)
*
Later that night, someone suggested playing Spin The Bottle and Baz was a little too tipsy on punch and endorphins to say no.
Of course, it all went to shit as soon as Snow spun the bottle. Because it landed on a girl that Baz almost recognised, a girl called Trixie, and Snow had the dirtiest mouth Baz had ever seen.
(It was sexy and terrifying and Baz was too drunk to deal with any of that right now, too drunk to try and sort through the mess that was her feelings.)
Baz was entranced, enchanted, but she stood up to go to the bathroom - or somewhere, really, where there wouldn't be pretty girls making out.
(Even if those girls were walking disasters.)
Baz was washing her face in the bathroom (and wasn't waterproof mascara a wonderful thing?) when Snow came in, slightly more sober and slightly more sheepish.
"Hey Baz. Are you okay?" She asked, smiling a little bit. Baz swallowed. And nodded.
"Yeah, I'm fine, I just - I was too warm," Baz lied, and Snow almost looked convinced.
"Okay," Snow said. And then, like the words burst out of her mouth on their own, "you're gay, aren't you?"
Baz gritted her teeth. She was out, and she wasn't ashamed of it, but it still made her uncomfortable to have to discuss it.
(With most girls it was "fuck now, discuss sexuality later". Apparently not with Snow.)
"Yeah. I am," Baz said, leaning against the wall (because she hadn't been lying - she was too warm, and the bathroom tiles were nice and cool.)
"That's - that's good," Snow said, and she bit her lip like she didn't know how fucking sexy she looked. "I, um, I'm bi."
Baz's heart was in her throat, beating so fucking loudly she was shocked that Snow couldn't hear it. She tried to play it cool, washing her hands and drying them before speaking.
"Why are you telling me this, Snow?"
And Snow stepped forward until they were just about toe to toe. "Come on, Baz. You know that's not my name."
Baz nearly stopped breathing. "Snow - Sophie, what are you -"
Snow kissed her. And Baz was drowning, drowning in the feeling of lips on lips. Her pulse was racing, as she grabbed Snow by the shoulders to deepen the kiss.
Snow pulled her closer, put her hands on her face, and Baz turned them around so that Snow was against the wall and started fucking kissing her again. Like she needed the feeling of lips on lips and sparks running through her veins as much as she needed oxygen.
Baz threw Snow's stupid witch hat on the floor, and then they kissed and kissed and kissed until Vera texted Baz to say she was outside.
"Well," said Snow, touching her swollen lips and looking at Baz with a new sort of shine in her eyes.
"I have to go," Baz said, and she tried to believe that it didn't mean anything. Then Snow pulled her into another kiss, a quick one - less hungry, less desperate.
"I'll see you around, Baz," said Snow and Baz smiled.
*
After that everything revolved around stolen kisses in cupboards and empty classrooms and bushes. Snow was good at kissing, but Baz was better, and they spent most of their time making out because of it.
*
In December, Snow didn't come to school for a day. Baz tried not to worry about it, until Snow wasn't in the next day. Or the next, or the next.
By the end of the week, Baz had Snow's address from the school ("I have to give her the homework.") and she had Vera drop her to the door. The house seemed mostly normal, with only the paint outside peeling.
There was no car in the drive.
Snow answered the door, but her eyes widened when she saw Baz and she immediately started to close the door. It didn't matter - Baz had already seen the worst fucking part.
"Snow?" Baz asked, her voice quiet and nervous and trembling very slightly. "Sophie?"
Snow's voice was muffled by the mostly closed door. "Go away, Baz, please. I don't want you to see me like this."
"I have your homework," Baz protested weakly. She could feel that something was wrong, and she was scared.
Baz pushed at the door gently and, to her surprise, Snow let her. She stepped into the house and looked at her - girlfriend? Fuck buddy? Enemy-with-benefits? - properly.
Snow had a black eye, with bruises all down the left side of her face. She was favouring her right leg.
"What happened?" Baz asked, her voice gentle - like she was talking to a spooked animal rather than a person.
"I - my dad - I -" Snow fumbled with the words, and Baz could see something like shame in her eyes. The next thing she said was a whisper, nearly impossible to hear. "Please, Baz, please don't tell anyone."
And Baz knew that everything was all wrong, knew that this was fucked up in a serious way, but she just nodded.
"Okay," she whispered back. "I won't, I swear, I won't tell a soul."
*
Sometimes Baz wished she hadn't made that promise, because the whole dynamic of their relationship changed after that day. They still kissed, still spent time together, but Baz knew that everything was all wrong.
(Sometimes Snow came into school with bruises on her arms, bruises shaped like fingertips. And it scared Baz that there was nothing she could do.)
*
One night in February, at about three in the morning, Snow rang Baz.
"Baz," Snow sobbed through the phone. "Baz, please tell me you're there."
"Snow?" Baz was instantly awake, the fear in her girlfriend's voice sending shivers down her spine. "Sophie? What's wrong?"
"I - it's my dad, and his friends. They're all crazy, they - they're doing some sort of ritual and they keep saying they're going to sacrifice me and, God, I'm so scared, Baz."
"Sophie? Where are you now?" Baz asked, already shoving her feet into boots and pulling a hoodie on over her pyjamas. "I'm going to come and get you, okay?"
"I - I'm walking to your house - I think I'm a few blocks away," Sophie whispered into the phone. Baz's heart broke, nearly, and she grabbed the keys for Daphne's car.
"Keep walking. I'm on my way, alright? You're going to be okay, everything's going to be fine," Baz told Snow, although she didn't believe it herself.
Five minutes later, Baz parked beside Snow.
Snow was crying, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her too-small coat. Her right arm was twisted, maybe sprained, and there was rope burn around her wrists.
She sniffled as she climbed inside the car, still sobbing quietly. Baz drove back to the house as quickly as she could.
Baz brought Snow up to her room, gave her some pyjamas, and told her to sleep in her bed. Then she went to her parents' room to wake up Daphne.
"Daphne," she whispered loudly until her stepmother woke up. "Please, I need help, it's an emergency."
Her stepmother was a smart woman. Baz told her everything, about their relationship and Snow's abusive dad and about the girl lying on her bed in tears.
Of course Daphne called the fucking police, because it made sense to do so. And of course Baz had made a promise, but sometimes promises had to be broken.
So the cops went and shut down whatever crazy fucking ritual Davy and his friends were trying to do, and Snow slept.
*
They sent Snow away, after that. Put her in foster care somewhere upstate, moved schools, moved house.
Baz and Snow exchanged phone numbers, but it was hard to keep the conversation alive when there was so little to say.
(And harder when there weren't bright blue eyes looking at her every day, swollen lips promising more, messy fucking curls in the morning.)
When she left, Snow promised she wasn't done. "Baz, I swear, I'll be back when I'm eighteen. Or maybe we can go somewhere else together - travel, or something. It's only two years, right?"
When they kissed that last time, it felt like a goodbye. It felt like a promise, a memory, a could-have-been. It felt like the end, but it wasn't.
Baz waited.
*
The last time Baz saw Sophie Snow, she knew she was fucked. Because Snow looked like a fucking mess, with swollen lips and sex hair and earnest smiles.
And because two years wasn't that long, but it still felt like forever.