Work Text:
Baz
The cruel irony about dating Simon Snow is that I’m a vampire dating the sun. And like the sun, Simon is up far too early for my liking. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.
“Simon,” comes a muffled voice from the other side of the far wall, along with a pounding. Bunce. “You’re being too loud. I’m trying to sleep!”
I pull the covers over my face and try to ignore the pounding.
“Sorry, Penny!” Simon says, too loudly, from somewhere in the room. But he seems to be digging through his wardrobe and continues slamming the drawers.
I groan. Unlike the sun, I can’t just close a curtain on Snow and hope to be able to fall back asleep. Once he’s up, so am I. So I roll over and peek my head out of the blanket, but he’s not in the room.
“Snow?” I pull the covers off and slowly sit on the edge of the bed.
A bottle clanks against the floor in the bathroom and rolls out into the bedroom. There’s more pounding from Bunce’s room, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. A moment later though, Snow walks out to pick up the bottle. Crowley.
“Oh, Baz,” he says, and he’s just standing there in his boxers, freshly showered, and holding the bottle against his chest. The sun is coming in through the bathroom window, creating a halo-like shadow on his hair, and his skin is glowing. He looks...
“Did I wake you up?”
... Angelic. At Watford, in the few times Snow would walk out of the bathroom looking like this, I only could glance once or twice, then pretend not to notice. But now I can’t take my eyes off of him. And I don’t have to.
“It was just the sun, Snow,” I say, and he smiles at me. Crowley.
“I will get some better curtains,” he says and walks back into the bathroom.
I don’t need any curtains.
I stand up and walk towards the bathroom. Snow’s brushing his teeth, and I smile at him through the mirror. Sometimes Snow likes to pretend he can’t see me in the mirror, for the sake of his cheesy vampire jokes, but he smiles back at me this time, his mouth full of toothpaste.
I step up behind him and wrap my hand around his waist, putting my face into his hair. He smells like cinnamon and citrus. He puts his hand over mine, and I kiss his curls.
“Good morning, love,” I say.
He smiles at me with his toothbrush still in his mouth. “G’ah mornin’.”