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Baz
There was no point going to Fiona’s first thing in the morning. She’s usually not up before one in the afternoon or so. And then she’s an impossible grouch. It’s best to catch her in the evening. So it was pointless to leave the manor and go to London before dark. But that meant that we had a day to kill. We spent much of it in the library, doing as much research as we could on vampires. When we ran out of books on the subject, it was still afternoon. So I fetched my violin and started playing to clear my head. I didn’t ask Snow if it was okay. He didn’t ask me if it was okay to clear his head by practicing with his sword either. Playing morose love songs while watching the boy I’m morose about loving work up a sweat waving his sword around was too much, so I turned to face the window.
And then the sun finally dipped low in the sky and Snow joined me at the window to watch it set. An idea struck. It was absurd, really. I just felt warm inside, quietly watching the sunset with Snow. He was standing so close that I could take his hand in mine if I wanted to. I did. Want to, that is. But I didn’t take his hand. Instead, I opened my mouth and voiced the worst idea I’d had since I decided to ask my aunt for advice chasing down her vampire ex.
“Would you like to see my favourite place on the estate? It’s got a better view.”
“Yeah, alright,” Snow says.
We put on coats and boots and I led him to the oak tree I always climbed when I needed to get away from it all. Away from my grief. Away from my fears. Away from loud younger siblings. And eventually, away from the smell of blood. I’ve never shared this with anyone. Not with friends or family. I’ve never invited anyone to come up here with me. I’m not going to tell Snow. It would be too awkward. It would be an admission of everything I can’t tell him. But while we’re up here, I can pretend. I can pretend that it’s romantic that we’re watching the sunset set the sky ablaze and the snow glittering together.
The view is definitely better here, but not only the view of the sunset. Snow’s curls and skin glow. His eyes sparkle. A small smile tugs at his lips. I have to remind myself to watch the sunset instead of his face. He glances at me occasionally, but I don’t know why. Why would he look at me instead of the best sunset of my life?
Simon
I’m so glad we came out here. The view is spectacular. And I don’t just mean the sunset. The sunset is an actual spectacle. Wispy clouds are lit up with oranges and pinks and purples. The sky is gold and red, fading to yellow and orange, fading into royal purple and indigo. The oak we’re in is bare, but the forest on the grounds has evergreens laden with snow. The snow there and the fresh powder on the ground shimmer like fairy lights.
But it’s nothing next to Baz. His porcelain skin is pink in this light. Even his black hair shines different colors when a breeze gently tosses the strands. There’s something soft in his expression. Subtle, but there. All in the eyes. Vulnerable. You wouldn’t see it if you didn’t know him like I do, if you didn’t have every detail of his face catalogued in your head. I want to know why. I wonder if he’s scared of what we’re doing tonight. I wonder if he’s ever met another vampire. I wonder if he’s thinking about when he was bitten. I always knew Baz was fit, but I wonder why it took so long for me to realize he’s fucking breathtaking. And what does it mean that I see him this way?
I don’t stare. I don’t know how to un-see Baz taking in a sunset. I don’t think it’ll be possible. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when I hear childish laughter from below us. Baz’s little sister is standing at the base of our tree and giggling like a kid in a horror film.
“Ooooooh!” She says with the smirk of a little sister who’s ready to jump at the chance to embarrass her big brother. She points her finger at us and says in a sing-song voice dripping with magic, “Baz and Simon sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
Baz
Fuck.
I think Mordelia’s wand was under the sleeve of the arm she pointed at us. And at nine, she has next to no control over her magic. And this spell is most powerful when it’s cast by a pre-pubescent child on two people who are actually in a tree. The only thing that’s going to save me from embarrassment is that the spell only forces the matter if both parties actually want to kiss each other at least a little. If it’s one sided, then the person hit with the spell experiences a heightened urge, but I have years of experience resisting the urge to kiss Snow.
I’ll be fine. It’ll be…
Snow looks at me like he looks at a plate of sour cherry scones. I can only take it in for a moment before his mouth is on mine, one of his hands cups my jaw, and the other sinks into my hair. I’d expect Snow kissing under a compulsion spell to be as hungry and fierce as he is about everything else, but his lips are warm and slow on mine. Tender as the sunset.
Honestly, as first kisses go, I’d say I hit the jackpot. I’m kissing Simon Snow. Simon Snow is kissing me in the only place on the estate where I ever get any peace. He’s touching me like I really mean something to him. The only problem is that my chaos gremlin of a sister is cackling twenty feet below us. And I don’t know how long it will take her or Snow to realize that we won’t be able to stop kissing until someone counter-spells us. Unfortunately, that is no small problem. (At least Mordelia didn’t cast the rhyme about love, marriage, and a baby carriage.)
Snow has done this before. He’s doing this nice thing with his chin. Moving it up and down. Tilting his head. Pushing me back against the trunk of the tree. I don’t try to mimic him. I just let him go.
His cross is rattling in my tongue and jaw. His pulse is beating in my throat. And his mouth is killing everything I’m trying to think.
Simon Snow.
Simon
Baz’s mouth is colder than Agatha’s.
Because he’s a boy, I think, and then: No, because he’s a monster.
He’s not a monster. He’s just a villain.
He’s not a villain. He’s just a boy.
I’m kissing a boy.
I’m kissing Baz.
And I can’t stop.
Literally. I think this might be his first kiss, though I can’t imagine why that would be. Look at him. He’d be perfect if he didn’t have fangs and bloodlust. Crowley, he’s perfect with them. I think I’d let him bite me if he asked. I want to ask him if this is okay. I want to ask if he is okay.
Baz
He teases my mouth open and grazes my tongue with his. I gasp and he has the nerve to giggle before nipping my bottom lip.
Mordelia is still staring at us, but she’s stopped laughing. “Ewww! Merlin, you can stop now.”
I run my fingers through Snow’s curls to the nape of his neck and guide him to stay with me as I turn my head so I can speak. He takes the hint, kissing a line up my jaw. My voice comes out husky and sort of choked when I call down, “Mordelia! I hope you know some counterspells because no, we can’t ‘stop now’ until you come up with one.”
“Can’t you cast it? I know you have your wand with you.”
How can I explain that I can’t spell Snow and me to stop kissing because I won’t be able to put a convincing amount of intent into the words in the absence of anything short of a Humdrum attack? “No,” I barely bite back a moan when Snow nips my earlobe, his breath hot and loud against my skin. “I can’t cast it.”
“I’m getting Father.”
“No!”
She ignores me. “Back in a moment,” she shouts as she runs off toward the manor.
Simon
If Baz and I are going to kiss under a magickal compulsion until someone can spell us apart, we might as well avoid anyone having a sore neck or back from being all twisted about. I nudge his leg until he lifts it over the branch to straddle it. I do the same so I’m facing him, my legs overlapping his to help secure me in place, and then lean into him, one hand still in his hair and the other braced against the treetrunk. Baz turns his head to kiss my neck so I can free my mouth to speak.
Baz
“Are you okay?”
Ever the hero, when magickally compelled to snog his nemesis, the first thing Snow thinks to ask is if I am okay. I nod and say, “mhmm,” against the skin just below his ear.
“Why didn’t you tell her the counterspell?” He takes my hand and starts kissing the inside of my wrist so he can see my face while I answer. I had no idea I was so sensitive there. Allestair Crowley, I’m leading a charmed life.
“It’s complicated,” I say and pull him forward to kiss his lips again. How can I explain the ridiculousness of this spell? Most spells have a single counterspell or are susceptible to common reversals like as you were, but this one is different. The counterspell won’t work unless it matches the intensity of the desire between the two parties.
The fact that the spell took effect at all means that whether it was a conscious thought or a repressed one, Snow wanted to kiss me. I don’t even know how to process that. It doesn’t compute. I thought he was straight! He literally hates me. I’ve stomped on his heart to protect my own for years. Why would he want to kiss me? (I’m guessing it was repressed because he normally wears his heart on his sleeve and acts on impulse.)
I don’t know how intense Snow’s desire is, but mine is alarmingly high. I think that the counterspell will release us when one is found that matches the threshold of whoever’s desire is weakest. I know that will be Snow’s. I won’t let it break my heart. After all, we’re only in this predicament because he isn’t as out of reach as I always thought.
Simon
I pull my lips away and let Baz kiss my cheeks while I ask, “what do you mean, ‘complicated?’” And then I go back to his neck so he can answer.
“The counterspell has to…” He gasps and pauses to collect himself when I nip his ear and give his hair a small tug. “It has to match how badly we want to keep kissing to overpower it, which means it all depends on you.”
“Why me?” I whisper with my lips still touching his ear. He shivers.
“Because it only needs to work on the person who wants it less.”
“And you think that’s me?”
“Yes.” He says it like it’s a fact. Like it’s a matter of course. Like my obsession with him for our entire lives isn’t finally making sense.
I’ll show him that for once in his life, he’s wrong.
Baz
Snow scoots himself closer so he’s practically in my lap. He drags his teeth down the side of my neck until he hits my shirt collar, unleashing the moan I’ve been holding back, and then works his way back to my mouth. He growls low in his throat and the vibrations make me shudder. He pushes until my head is pressed against the tree trunk and we’re touching chest to chest. I flinch, and he pulls back enough to reach under his shirt and yank his cross necklace off, letting it fall and disappear into the snow at the base of the tree. His thighs are heavy on top of mine, but I can’t bring myself to care when I can feel Simon Snow hard against me and someone could get here to spell us apart at any moment.
I rake my fingers down his back, and he arches against me with a whine. I grab his arse and squeeze, but he only kisses me deeper.
Simon
Baz’s skin is warming under my touch. I could do this. I would keep him warm as long as he lets me. He thinks he wants this more than I do. I can’t see how it’s even possible, but it’s a discussion for another time. Right now, I only have to keep kissing him. One of his hands makes its way back into my hair as I pull his lower lip between my teeth and rub his stomach, feeling his abdominal muscles jump under my fingertips.
“Simon…” It comes out of him as a lisping sigh against my mouth.
I breathe it in and release his lip to whisper back, “Baz, I…” I don’t know where that sentence was going. I let it dangle.
The sky slowly darkens around us as we kiss and explore whatever skin is left exposed by our coats.
There’s a sound of footsteps in the snow and then Mordelia is back with Malcom Grimm. Baz slows to a lazy slide of lips against mine and breathes in deeply. I follow his lead. I can’t imagine how awkward this must be for him. I’m about ready to jump out of my skin, but Baz’s arms around me keep me grounded. Being wrapped up in him is keeping my magic contained like a faraday cage.
Baz
As first kisses go, I’d say this is beyond my wildest dreams and my worst nightmares. The kissing itself is everything the songs sing about. It’s everything, period. But kissing the boy of my dreams in front of my little sister and my homophobic father? I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Was losing my mother and becoming one of the monsters that killed her not bad enough?
My father aims his wand at us. His voice is frozen steel when he says, “As you were!”
Nothing happens. Snow keeps kissing me.
“Break it up, you two!”
Nothing.
My father tries a string of phrases to no effect. “Hands to yourself! Give it a rest! Control yourself! Take a cold shower! Stiff upper lip!”
Simon Snow is still kissing me. He hasn’t even hinted at stopping.
“Think of the children!” Father’s voice drips with venom. When that doesn’t work, he snaps at Mordelia to go back inside. She complains about it, but eventually complies.
My eyes burn. Snow wipes the tears off my cheeks with his thumbs and keeps cradling my face in his hands. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’ve finally got you where I want you.” He keeps kissing me.
Father finally resorts to song lyrics. They’re unstable, but they can be powerful. “Stop right now, thank you very much!” No change. “Control your urges! You need to just stop!” Since when did he listen to the Spice Girls and Taylor Swift?
Nothing is working. Snow is showing no sign of losing steam. Could this mean…? No. It’s impossible. “Where do you want me?” I ask against his mouth.
“Under my hands,” he answers, still against my lips and kissing me after every few words. “I just want… to be back… at Watford… in our room… knowing you’re there… and that you aren’t… hurting anyone… and no one… is hurting you.” He lays a hand on my chest. “I can’t sleep… when I can’t… hear you breathing.”
What?
“My son, stop kissing boys in the street!” Forget the Spice Girls and Taylor Swift. When did my father ever hear Calum Scott? I don’t know whether to be pleased that he listened to a song about a parent getting over homophobia or heartbroken that he’s rejected the message.
Snow is not deterred. He guides me back to his neck (which is awfully trusting of him) so he can call out, “We’re in a tree, sir!” And then he tickles my stomach. I feel it drop to the center of the earth. He returns my mouth to his, and I can feel him smiling.
“Great snakes, Basilton!” Father says.
I can feel shame creeping up my throat, but I push it down. I’m in love with Simon Snow. I’m in love with the Chosen One, and he returns enough of my affection to be immune to a whole string of counterspells. I can’t be ashamed of that. I won’t.
I hear my father pacing and grumbling to himself. Finally, he points his wand at us again, a sneer to rival my own on his face, and barks, “Stop! In the name of love!”
Snow’s lips release mine, but he doesn’t back away. He rests his forehead against mine and breathes, smiling.
My father’s tone is icy when he says, “Now get down from there. Basilton, I want you to meet me in my office.”
Snow pulls back enough to see my face and takes my hand in his. “Do you still think I want it less, Baz?”
Simon
Baz stares at me. I think he’s in shock. “So you… Do you…?” I’ve never heard Baz stammer. I’ve never heard him speechless. I should’ve kissed him ages ago.
“I think the magic’s made that perfectly clear,” I say.
“But how?” his brows knit together. I want to smooth them out with my thumbs. “You know I’m a monster.”
“I know nothing of the sort.”
“It’s true. You know I’m a vampire, Snow!”
“Simon. If we’re going to be snogging, call me Simon.”
“Who says we’re going to be snogging, Simon?” Baz pinches the bridge of his nose. “One kiss and you think the world is upside down?”
“Two kisses,” I say and then kiss him because I want to. No spells, but still magic. I retreat after only a few moments. “You’re not a monster, Baz. You had your mouth all over my neck and didn’t bite me. Have you ever bitten anyone?”
“No.”
“There you go. See?” I say. He looks down and I ruffle his hair. “It’s not like I’m a vegetarian.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“For you, yes.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you’re starting to get it.”
Baz looks back up at me, his eyes full of pain. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t either until just before Mordelia cast the spell.” I didn’t. I only knew that my feelings were too big to contain and that I needed to get my hands on him. I didn’t realize that I wanted to kiss him instead of punch him until I saw him in the glow of the sunset.
“Before…?”
I nod. “It explains why I’ve always been obsessed with you, Baz. Don’t I get to have a turn to be surprised that you wanted to kiss me?”
Baz laughs. It’s beautiful. “Simon Snow, I’ve known I was in love with you since fifth year. And I know it started long before then. But you were straight. And you hated me. I think I get to be the one who’s most surprised.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t even know how to process any of this. “Baz?”
“Yes?”
“I want to keep talking about this. I want to keep doing all of this,” I say. “But we still have to get to London to talk to your aunt and now your father probably wants to lecture you in his office about snogging the Mage’s Heir before we can leave. Can we keep talking in the car?”
“Yes. I think it will give us both time to think about what we want to say.”
“I guess,” I start climbing out of his lap. “Please just don’t spend it coming up with excuses for why we can’t do this. I know you’re a vampire, and I don’t care. There can’t possibly be another thing about you that is ‘worse’ than that.” I make air quotes when I say the word, “worse.” “I want this. I want you. Fangs and all.”
Baz
Snow starts climbing out of the tree. I watch him until he gets to the bottom. He makes no move to look for his cross. Does he have any idea how much he’s flipped my world upside down and shaken it? We have a long night ahead of us. I’ll face my father’s rage, wrangle what information I can out of my aunt, and then we still have to actually find Nicodemus and make him talk.
But at least when the night is done, I’ll have Snow. I’ll have Simon.
“Okay, Simon. I promise.” I start my own climb out of my favourite oak.