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Baz
Snow is giving me a look right now. It’s a mixture of disgust and heartbreak, and I think I could have possibly hurt his feelings with what I said. It’s a look so intense that it could possibly kill a man. A man desperately in love with him.
“I just… I just can’t believe that,” he says, staring down into his mug. “How?”
“How what, Snow?”
He sits his mug down on the coffee table and stares at me with a suffocating silence that lasts just long enough that I find myself having to catch my breath. I honestly don’t believe how this could be such a big deal.
“ How can you not like hot chocolate, Baz? I mean,” he picks up his mug and points at it, as if no explanation is required. Some of the whipped cream on top flops over the side and falls onto the sofa, but Simon doesn’t seem to notice. His stare is so intense that I don’t dare take out my wand to clean it.
“Snow,” I say, watching his face in hopes that his stare will falter. Some sign that will let me know that this isn’t a big deal like he’s making it out to be. But there are no signs.
“Snow,” I say again, pinching the bridge of my nose and sighing. “I don’t even like regular chocolate.”
He gasps, but it’s sarcastic, and I relax. He sits his mug down on the table, shaking it in the process, and even more whipped cream falls out of it, onto the floor this time. I frown.
“But Baz, you’ve never had my hot chocolate. It will change your mind!” He immediately gets up off the sofa and runs into the kitchen.
“I highly doubt it,” I say, probably not loud enough for him to hear. I take out my wand and point it at the whipped cream messes. “ Begone ,” I mutter. I don’t even think it’s a real spell, but I’ve become so proficient at cleaning magick that I can say anything remotely similar, and the messes are gone in a second.
There’s a clanging of glasses from the kitchen, and what I hope isn’t something being spilled on the floor. Then, Snow comes into the living room, holding two mugs, one overflowing with whipped cream. He steps through two beams of evening light filtering in through the windows, and for a moment, he looks radiant. His wings are folded neatly behind him, and his hair is a ruffled mess. And I think ‘ I would drink anything he gave me.’
“Here,” he says, handing me the overflowing mug. I take it carefully, watching him sit down with the other.
“You need two mugs, Snow?”
He laughs. “It’s that good, Baz.”
I roll my eyes and stare at the cup in my hand. It looks pretty disgusting, honestly.
“I gave you extra whipped cream,” Snow says, smiling. “I know it’s your favorite.”
I glare at him briefly, trying to figure out if he’s insinuating something, but I say nothing.
“Try it, please.”
“It looks like chocolate soup,” I say, and that makes it sound even worst.
“It’s not! It’s really good.”
I really don’t want to drink it, but Simon is smiling at me, and those smiles make me weak. I sigh and bring the cup to my lips. The first sip is nothing but whipped cream, so I take another.
Snow suddenly starts laughing, and I look up at him.
“Baz.” He leans over and touches my lip with his thumb. “You have whipped cream on you.” He wipes it away, still giggling, and my mouth feels warm from the touch. And then he just casually licks the whipped cream off his finger, and my whole face starts burning.
“So what do you think?” he asks, like that whole interaction was nothing. He picks up his first mug and sips from it slowly, thankfully not looking at me. It hasn’t been long since I fed, and I’m not sure if I’m blushing right now.
I sip it again, avoiding the whipped cream. “It’s… Not bad, Snow.”
“Not bad? So you don’t hate it?”
“I could finish this cup, at least.”
He smiles at me, and with the evening sun, his face is almost glowing.