Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Baz

Crowley.

This is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

And I am sweaty, exhausted, and completely dishevelled.

The kids have been giving me an absolute run around over the summer, especially now that Daphne and my father have decided that I’m just free child care whenever I’m home from university.

They’re lucky I love them so much.

Mordelia is old enough to be left at home alone (which is exactly what I did) and the twins have daycare throughout the summer so I cycled them both over there first thing. I left Swithin with Mordy, then picked him up and took him into town. That’s how I ended up here.

With far too much stuff and nowhere near enough hands.

Trust Daphne to want organic local stuff in the most ridiculous glass jars. I’m a little worried my tote is going to split open.

So when I walked into Whittards, desperate to find the last things on the list for this ridiculous garden party, and was presented with the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen behind the counter…

Well I cursed every god I could imagine.

He’s shorter than me, and solidly built (rugby player perhaps? From what I can see he’s got the figure for it). His hair is a coppery rusty blonde and curly, it’s a little too long, curling around his ears and hanging in his eyes. Those eyes.

They’re just blue, nothing particularly special and yet one look and I never want to look away. If I could swim in them I would.

He’s tan and absolutely covered in freckles and moles and as he hands the customer he’s with their bags I can see that even the inside of his arms are freckled.

He’s gorgeous.

I’m embarrassed suddenly at just how much of a mess I am. I’m wearing a nice loose linen shirt and a pair of trousers but Swithin is strapped to me in a grey carrier that Daphne bought because it’s supposed to be super ergonomic and helps regulate baby body temperature but I am absolutely sweltering with the thick fabric and the baby pressed against me. The backpack of baby stuff is no help too, way more stuff than I could ever actually need and yet I can never bring myself to take anything out of it… just in case. (I know that I’ll never end up changing Swithin completely more than twice but that doesn’t stop me from packing as if he’s going to be shitting everywhere every five minutes). My hair is loose and I lost my scarf before I even made it out of the door and I’m covered in sweat. And baby dribble.

I ignore him as best I can, looking over the selection of iced teas. Daphne asked for fruity, but didn’t specify what. We’ve got a strawberry lemonade one at home which was what had inspired her, so here I am looking at the wall of options and trying to decide what looks best. There’s far too many options and they all look fine, but this is a Grimm-Pitch family garden party and strawberry watermelon isn’t going to cut it.

“What shall we get?” I muse to Swithin, scanning the shelves again. “Shall we get the cherry one? Sour cherry? We could get the lychee one too… or is that too much?” It’s definitely not, and it sounds good. I don’t massively like cherry myself, but I know the kids do and it’s a step above raspberry in fanciness I feel (the raspberry and cranberry one seems a bit odd). I get one of each although I’m pretty sure I’m about to drop them and look once again. I really don’t have the hand space for it, so I don’t bother.

Simon

“Shall we get the cherry one? Sour cherry? We could get the lychee one too… or is that too much?”

He’s gorgeous, babbling to the baby strapped to his front as he decides on a flavour of iced tea powder. He’s absolutely laden with stuff, a baby strapped to his front, a huge bag of (what I can only assume is baby stuff) on his back, a full tote bag on his shoulder and an iced coffee in hand.

I want to offer him a hand, but he’s making his way over before I can leave the counter.

“Could I just put these down for a sec?”

He’s put the boxes down on the counter before I can reply but I nod anyway as he turns to the coffee.

“Shall we get some coffee hmm? The hazelnut one sounds yummy doesn’t it? Do we think daddy would like it?”

I can’t tell if it’s his kid. He looks the same age as me but… I’m old enough to have a kid.

Huh.

I guess I am.

He stares at the selection of coffees for a little while, before glancing at just how full his bag was and clearly deciding against it.

I start ringing him up and he holds up a hand.

“Hold up- I’ve got my student id.”

Jesus.

We’re basically the same age and he’s a university student and a dad?

Basilton Pitch, UCL. His portrait stares at me from his id and I’m struck by just… stunning he is. His photo is flawless, grey eyes penetrating deep into my soul. His expression is cool, not blank but… like he’s planning something. His hair is slicked back in the photo but it’s loose and falling around his face as I glance back up to him. He looks exhausted. He’s still beautiful though.

I hand him his id back with a smile, adding the discount in on the till.

“Your baby’s beautiful.” It feels quite lame coming out of my mouth and the way he crooks an eyebrow at me shows me that it was. “How old?”

There’s a tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth as he looks down at the baby who’s peacefully chewing their hand against his chest.

“Two months, he’s just tiny.”

I have absolutely no idea what size babies are supposed to be at any age but I can see his tiny hand gripping onto the shirt the guy (Basilton) is wearing. It’s a lovely shirt, clearly very expensive and I’m surprised that he’s wearing it around a baby. Aren’t they supposed to be messy? (I have absolutely no idea).

The baby’s adorable. He’s looking at me and I wave, and he coos.

“What’s your name, handsome boy?”

The man, Basilton, smiles and looks back down at the baby, taking one of his tiny hands with his finger. “You’ll laugh.”

“Your name is Basilton, I’m sure it can’t be worse.”

He rolls his eyes, looking back up at me. “Honestly, you will, we’re the worst… Basilton isn’t even my first name, it’s my middle name. I just go by Baz because it’s easier.”

“Try me.”

“It’s Swithin.”

I do laugh, an ugly snort that escapes me before I can stop it and I cover my mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry! Christ that’s a bad name.” I gasp, looking down at the baby who’s still staring at me. “Aw Swithin, I’m sorry.”

Basilton rolls his eyes again but he’s smiling at me, still holding baby Swithin’s tiny hand. “It gets worse. I’ve got Mordelia and the twins Sophronia and Petra, and-“ he sees me open my mouth “I’m not telling you my first name.”

I shut my mouth and grin at him. “Simon Snow.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Simon Snow.”

He looks amused, glancing down at the name tag on my shirt (Simon, he/him). “Snow’s pretty terrible. Guess it would be worst as a middle name.”

“I think it was supposed to be my middle name. Weird choice but it’s cute!”

Basilton, Baz, raises an eyebrow at me (he’s infuriatingly pretty when he’s looking at you as if you’re stupid) and I roll my eyes at him. It’s weird, I don’t often tell people about my life but for some reason with how mad his is, I want to tell him about my own.

“I was left at the door of an orphanage with Simon Snow written on my arm. We couldn’t track down any relatives with the last name Snow so I think it was supposed to be a middle name.”

There’s a pause as he looks at me and I shrug (it’s instinctive, Penny hates it).

“I’m sorry Snow, that’s rough.”

“Eh, it’s my life. Besides, my name isn’t Swithin.”

Baz smiles at me, then digs around in his bag and I remember that he still needs to pay.

“Would you like a bag?” He definitely doesn’t have the arm space for it but I don’t trust that his tote bag will fit the boxes.

He glances down at his bag and a curl of black hair falls across his face and he flips his head back to get it out of the way, then shakes his head and it falls right back across his face.

“Nah, I’ll make it fit.”

I hold the card machine out to him and he taps it, taking the boxes and shoving them into the tote bag.

“Nice choice, by the way. The iced teas are good.”

He looks down at the baby that’s now drooling down his top, “blame Swithin. I’m sweltering in the sun with this boiling child strapped to me.”

I can see the sweat bearing across his forehead now that he’s pointed it out and I’m weirdly struck by the urge to lick it off. (Bad Simon. That’s weird). I’m still unclear if Swithin is his son or not, that’s a lot of kids to have. He could be older than he looks, and twins add up without adding extra time I suppose. He looks too fondly to be just an older brother (I suppose, I really don’t know anything about families) and I can see the similarity between them. I can’t see a wedding band, but not everyone gets married, I’m sure he’s got a girlfriend as gorgeous as he is to create all of these ridiculously named kids. Actually, I guess he did have a double barrelled last name, he could well be married and not wear a band.

I wave my hand across it all with a smile, “hence the ice then.” It is ridiculously hot outside today, almost 30 and so humid.

He grabs his iced coffee with an expression that only tells me he almost forgot about it.

“Well lovely to meet you both, enjoy the tea.”

Baz looks down at Swithin and smiles, taking his tiny hand.

“You going to say bye bye Swith? Say goodbye to the nice man.”

Swithin stares at me with his huge grey baby eyes and resolutely doesn’t wave, keeping his hands tightly gripped in the expensive material of Baz’s shirt.

I just laugh, waving at them both. “I got eye contact, that’ll do. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Baz

Simon Snow. Huh.

I ramble to Swithin the whole journey home even though he falls asleep almost as soon as we leave the shop. I’ve got an afternoon of stalking ahead of me before it’s time to pick up the twins.

I dump everything in the kitchen unceremoniously and deposit Swithin on Mordelia (she hasn’t moved from the sofa since I left) with an order to change him and rush up to my room. I need a shower before I do anything.

I settle on my bed in my towel, hair dripping down my back. It’ll dry in the air and I can’t be bothered to do anything to it just to pick up the twins.

I start with Instagram, but there’s no results for Simon Snow. I try S Snow, Simon S, Si Snow, any combination of his names but to no avail. Facebook is just as bare of Simon Snow’s as Twitter and even Snapchat (an app that I firmly believe is for 12 year olds only). Huh.

I even try LinkedIn.

Nothing.

After my social media scouring provides nothing, I turn to google. Simon Snow provides nothing but a bunch of articles about people named Simon so I try Simon Snow Orphan.

Ah.

Local orphanage searches for family for abandoned child.

A baby (assumed to be around a week old) has been surrendered to the doorstep of local orphanage in Llanuwchllyn. Baby boy Snow has been taken in under the care of the orphanage as local authorities search for further information. At this time no one has come forwards with information.

I don’t think I’ve seen a more welsh sounding place. Huh, he didn’t mention he was welsh. Thinking back to it now though, there was definitely a twang to his accent but it wasn’t particularly distinctive.

I click off of the article and onto the only other one that has appeared.

Major structure fire demolishes Lancashire orphanage.

Last night, local Lancashire orphanage was sadly destroyed by a major structure fire. Only one resident was harmed and is currently under investigation for suspected arson. Simon Snow, an 11 year old who was abandoned at just a few weeks old is being detained under suspicion of arson. With a history of violence and aggression, Simon Snow is known as a troubled child within the system and has bounced around many different accommodations and it is not the first time he has been made known to the police.

There’s some more drivel about the fire, but what catches my interest is the update at the bottom of the article, added several months after its initial publishing.

It has been discovered that the fire was caused by a major electrical fault due to negligence from the building owners. An apology has been issued for the wrongful detention of resident Simon Snow.

I can only assume it’s the same guy. The story fits the one he told me only an hour or so ago and my curiosity is truly piqued. Simon Snow, who are you?

Chapter Text

Baz

It’s been two days and I cannot stop thinking about Simon Snow. I’m helping Daphne set up for the garden party, Swithin strapped to me in a lilac sling. It matches my shirt (lilac with flowers embroidered up from the hem) and he’s fast asleep, dribbling on me. We hold several of these parties each summer, all for different groups. There’s one for the Grimms and Pitches, one for all of our Old Family friends and one for all of the kid’s friends and families. Today’s the Grimm-Pitch, and Dev’s bringing Niall because at this point, they are a package deal. Apparently they’ve got a couple of blunts and Mordelia has promised not to drink so she can take care of the kids. Which means that I don’t. Which means that for the first time, I’m excited for one of Daphne’s parties.

I’m setting out the pitchers of iced tea, full of ice and fruit and mint. Daphne and I sampled them all and I was surprised by how much I liked them. Even the cherry flavour was good and I don’t actually like cherry. Apparently we must get more for next time and I definitely don’t think about the fact I might be able to see him again.

Dev and Niall steal me away as soon as everyone’s busy talking to one another and I’m no longer responsible for any children and we head down to the woods behind the house. There’s a spot we’ve been going for years (i believe we were 8 when we found it) - a clearing next to the stream that runs through the valley.

At the foot of a very climbable tree (one we’ve scaled many times… and Dev definitely didn’t break his wrist falling out of) is a stone fire pit. We built it when we were 12, spent the day hunting for stones big enough and spent the evening sitting around the flames, laughing and joking and just enjoying each other’s presence.

It’s become one of our favourite traditions. Every summer we come down here, we bring food and alcohol and a couple of blunts and when it’s hot enough to swim, towels, and we just spend time together. It’s rarely actually warm enough, but that never stops Deb and Niall stripping down to their boxers and throwing themselves into the shallow water. It’s rare that they actually get me in, but sometimes I let them persuade me, and the shock of the cold reminds me why I tend to avoid it.

We haven’t had a chance to come down here for more than an hour or two yet this summer, Dev’s been on holiday in France with his side of the family, Niall’s been working practically full time as a teaching assistant or something, and I’ve been my sibling’s unofficial third parent.

Dev flops ungracefully down onto the grass and Niall joins him, dragging me down so I’m wedged in between the two. Niall drape his legs over mine, and Dev slings an arm around my shoulders and I feel safe. I feel at home.

Niall pulls out a blunt and Dev produces a lighter before he can even ask, reaching across me to light it for him. They’re so in sync, they always have been.

I watch Niall blow smoke out of his nose, reaching lazily for the blunt as he takes another toke.

“So when did you two make it official?”

Niall freezes, glancing over at me with an expression so guilty that I can’t help myself but grin back at him.

“What - what are you talking about?” Dev asks from beside me and there’s a shake to his voice that I can’t help but sympathise with. He’s still not come out, not even to me, despite the fact I’ve known for the better part of a decade.

“You and Niall, you’re dating. When did you two get together?”

Niall and Dev share a look over my head, before I’m passed the blunt and Niall shrugs, but he’s smiling at the ground before him.

“Two months. Dev came to stay with me for a little bit and… things just developed from there. I’m sorry… we would have told you sooner but-“

But Dev. I know.

Our family would be less disappointed by him being queer than by me being gay, but if I don’t have the balls to come out then I’m not surprised he doesn’t…it’s scary. So much tradition and heritage that would be broken by something as simple as wanting to marry a man instead of a woman… I can’t blame him for not wanting our family to know. How could I? Not when we’re in the same boat.

That being said, I’m pretty sure everyone already knows. I mean, I’ve got long hair, I only wear florals if I’m wearing anything patterned, I take more care of my appearance than Daphne does… they’re all just waiting for me to say the words.

Except for Fiona.

She’s known since I was about 11. She’s the one person I’ve told about everything, about the boys I’ve liked and the ones I’ve kissed and she’s the one who takes me to pride every year.

She’s my biggest ally. And my biggest pain in my ass, but that’s another story.

“You don’t have to apologise.” I let the smoke fill my lungs as I lean back against the log behind us, letting my hair fall back from my face as I look up at the green canopy, lit by the soft golden warmth of summer afternoon sun.

“I’m really happy for you guys, I’ve been shipping this for like… years.”

Dev laughs, then steals the blunt from me and I can feel his immediate nervousness start to fade, reassured by the fact I’m not judging them (as if I could ever be. I meant it when I said I’ve been waiting for this.).

“What about you darling cousin?” He asks, turning to face me as he takes another toke.

“Any men in the field for you?”

I’m well aware my expression gives me away before I can say anything, judging by the way they both immediately laugh at me, and I do my best to glare.

“Shut up . I met a cute guy, but there’s nothing there. I’m probably not going to see him again, he was just a cashier at a shop.”

I’m drilled for information and after some reluctance, I tell them everything. We finish the blunt, then split another, and then it’s my turn to harass them and I ask about what relationship life is like.

By the end of it the sun has started to set and we’re all getting peckish so we venture back to the party, back to food and music and our families.

The fairy lights are all on, bathing the garden in a mix of warm golden light as the sun sinks behind the horizon and soft sparkly LED.

It’s a beautiful garden party, and I can tell Daphne’s proud of herself the way she’s surveying the party, sipping a glass of wine as she leans back against my father. They both look happy, and I’m happy too. I do miss my family when I’m at university and as dysfunctional as my relationship with my father might be, I do still love him. He’s my dad, after all.

It’s moments like these though that make me miss my mum, and I can tell Niall knows what I’m thinking as he comes to sit next to me, laden with plates of pilfered snacks.

Dev sits on the other side of me and yet again I’m sandwiched between my two closest friends, and it eases the tightness in my chest just a little. I love them, I really do.

They end up staying over, the three of us piling into my king size bed and binge watching the scream movies until we pass out. Niall’s the first to fall asleep, curled up in Dev’s arms as my cousin plays absently with his hair and I pretend I’m not watching out of the corner of my eye. They really are the cutest couple, they’re made for each other, they really are.

Baz

The next garden party is for all of the kid’s friends, so there’s supposed to be like 30 of them from ages 3-11 running around (Mordy insists she’s too old to invite anyone more than her best friend and I don’t have any friends other than Niall and Dev who’ve already decided we’re going clubbing in London instead.

I suggested we book a hotel, but they’ve somehow talked me into asking Fiona who’s begrudgingly agreed to us staying there. She’s never massively liked Dev but I’m her favourite and I’m pretty sure she’s sussed out the fact that they’re dating now and I think she feels bad for me still being single.

Not that I care.

I really don’t.

—————

Baz

Niall’s been staying with me the past few days while Dev goes to France with his parents and Daphne’s insisted he helps me take the kids out to run some errands because their nursery is closed for the day (apparently there was a fire in the kitchen which is a little terrifying) and it’s only a little bit of a nightmare. He is really good with kids, and the twins absolutely love him, but it’s so hot out and we’re both hungover and we’ve already filled the buggy with stuff and we’re not even half way through the ridiculous shopping list we’ve been given.

However Niall has forced us to take a break and get something cold to drink and I’m currently hiding away under the awning of the cafe, holding my lavender iced latte up to my forehead. I’ve unstrapped Swithin from me and deposited him into Niall’s arms and I’m just sort of airing myself out for the minute.

“Since when did England get so fucking hot in summer?”

I ask, then immediately glance guiltily over at the twins who aren’t paying me the slightest bit of attention. I’m always careful not to swear around them but sometimes the heat takes my filter from me.

“It’s ridiculous. My balls keep sticking to my thighs and I’m pretty sure my shirt is just all sweat now.” He grumbles, taking a long sip of his iced tea.

He’s insane for the fact he doesn’t drink coffee, I don’t know how I’d survive without my daily (over)dose of caffeine.

It’s all I can do to nod in agreement, wiping the condensation from my drink off of my forehead and taking a sip. It’s my favourite cafe around and there’s something about their homemade lavender syrup that I really cannot get enough of.

“I’m not sure what’s baby drool and what’s sweat at this point.” I say, glancing mournfully down at the damp patch on my chest. It’s probably both. I’m telling myself it’s both.

“So… how are things going with Dev?”

Niall’s cheeks turn pink and he smiles, a sheepish, genuine smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes as he picks at his straw.

“Things are going really well honestly, like - better than I ever could have imagined.”

He glances up at me and I think it’s the most tender I’ve ever seen him look, he’s completely head over feels for my cousin and I love it.

“We’ve been texting like non stop since he went to France and it’s really good because I… I don’t know, I worry that he’s going to lose interest but he’s been… he’s been constantly reaching out with things he sees that reminds him of me and it feels really good.”

I take another sip of my drink, and I can’t stop myself from smiling back at him. Anyone else would be worried about being pushed out of our little group of three now that Niall and Dev are dating, but I know these two better than I know myself and I know we’ll never stop being friends. Besides, they’ve spent so long dancing around their feelings for one another that it’s a relief that they’re finally dating.

Besides, they’re the cutest couple. They just work together. They’ve been best friends for so long that the two of them dating is not massively different from how things were before. They just kiss now.

“Have you two…?” I raise an eyebrow at Niall and his cheeks burn even brighter pink and he nods.

“We have.”

“…and?”

“It’s good.”

I raise my eyebrow at him again and he groans, hiding himself behind his drink. He’s well aware that I’m not letting him get away without telling me more and he gives in almost immediately.

“Okay it’s really good. I… I did tell him I wouldn’t tell you…”

(he’s obviously dying to tell me)

“…but he’s the bottom.”

That doesn’t shock me, but I’m surprised that Dev’s discovered this so soon into the relationship. I was sure it would take him some time to embrace being queer and allowing himself to experiment. Clearly Niall’s been better at helping him it than I assumed.

“Fake news, Grimm-Pitch’s don’t bottom.” I exclaim in fake horror, and the look he gives me makes me burst out laughing, completely unable to keep up the pretence.

“You all fucking do.” He counters, leaning forwards on his elbows as he smirks at me.

He is right of course, but I do pride myself on being a switch.

Because I am.

…Definitely…

Unfortunately our glasses are soon empty and the twins are starting to get fussy so we progress onwards, and it’s just my luck that Whittards is the next on my list.

Shit.

My heart is racing as I walk into the shop. I’m a mess again, but I’ve done my best despite it all. My hair is pulled up into a bun, not something I normally do but Niall convinced me and it’s not as bad as I was expecting. I’m wearing a silk shirt, pale blue with light pink flowers creeping up the sleeves. It’s one of my favourites, even though I’ve got it buttoned up all the way with Swithin strapped against me. I’ve gone for a soft grey cloth sling today, slightly lighter and less sweaty but annoyingly less supportive which means I’ve constantly got my hand on his head. I know realistically it’s fine, but paranoia stops me from letting go. I’ve loaded the nappy bag onto Niall and he’s starting to look a little overloaded what with with the twins and also all of the shopping loaded into the buggy.

I catch his eye immediately and curse myself for it, and I’m suddenly very grateful that I don’t blush because I know that I’d be scarlet if I did.

Which he is.

What?

I glance back at him, and he’s offering me a tentative smile, his cheeks ruddy as he awkwardly waves a hand at me.

Oh.

Oh.

He remembers me.

All my words suddenly stick in my throat as Niall glances between me and the guy - Snow - I remind myself, and his eyes sparkle with realisation as he puts two and two together.

Simon

I notice him through the window before he even walks in, dark hair and expensive clothing and the baby strapped to his cheek and I realise I’ve gone bright red.

He’s so effortlessly beautiful even with shopping and a child and I feel frustratingly inadequate suddenly in my white shirt and slacks. They give us an apron and a name badge for uniform but I just feel like a mess compared to him. I know my hair is a nightmare (I’ve given up on trying to tame my curls, they always win) and I’m pretty sure I’ve spilt more coffee down my front than I’ve actually sold today.

Behind him is another guy, also gorgeous but he’s nothing compared to Basilton. (Baz? I can’t remember what he said to call him, but I do remember his ridiculous name).

He’s pushing a pram with two little girls who are obviously twins and I can see the resemblance immediately.

Is this his husband? His partner? He doesn’t look like any of the kids but he’s clearly comfortable with them.

He looks straight at me and I smile at him, but he looks away as if he didn’t notice me as I awkwardly raise my hand.

Fuck.

Fuck .

I can feel the red flush creep down my chest in pure humiliation because of course he doesn’t remember me. Why would he? Just because I’ve been the freak who can’t get him out of my head doesn’t mean that he’s been thinking of me too.

God I’m so fucking thick.

Except he’s looking at me again and our eyes meet and he -

He smiles.

And I feel like my heart explodes into millions of pieces.

Baz

He’s gone bright red, properly crimson and I can see all the way down below his collar and I am struck by the urge to see how far it goes.

Surely he’s not blushing because I’m here?

Surely…?

I’m not sure whether I should go up to him or not, but Swithin stirs in his carrier and I’m grateful for the opportunity to break eye contact.

He coos up at me and stroke his head, watching as he looks around the store.

“Shall we get some more tea for mummy?”

I ask him, glancing toward the wall filled with them. I decide on lychee and rose, as well as some sour cherry for Daphne.

I hear a commotion come from the other section of the shop that I instantly know is caused by my lot and I look round to see Niall trying to divert the twins from the hot chocolate.

He’s made the mistake of reminding the twins about their new favourite drink and they’ll be shouting about having one until bedtime, not to mention the fact that they’re currently trying to climb out of the pram to grab at it. He can deal with it for now.

Instead I turn to browse the coffee, particularly the hazelnut one I was eyeing when I came in last. It’s on sale so I grab a bag, as well as one of the normal dark roast my father likes. I think I’ve annoyed him this week so I’ll consider it a peace offering. I’m not sure what exactly I’ve done because he seems to always be irritated by me, but if it’ll stop him snapping then I’ll take it.

Simon

I’ve busied myself in carefully turning all of the coffee jars so they’re facing forwards, something completely meaningless and irrelevant but giving me a much needed opportunity to not look at him.

Unfortunately there’s only so long I can organise jars for and as I finish, he walks up to the counter.

“Just these please.”

As I reach out to take the boxes of tea, the baby - Swithin - blinks at me, grey eyes focusing on my face and I can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips.

“Hi Swithin, how have you been?”

I glance up at Baz, “and how have you been? Back for more I see.”

He smiles, and my heart does that ridiculous thing in my chest again as he strokes Swithin’s head.

“He’s been great, he’s now officially three months old, I’m sure he’ll be in school before I can blink.” Baz muses affectionately, his attention focused on the baby in his arms.

“And I’ve been great thank you, just constantly running errands for my step mother, she keeps hosting these massive garden parties and for some reason that means I do everything.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Of course these aren’t his kids.

He’s their brother. Or step brother. I’m not sure.

My face gives me away though because he’s raising an eyebrow at me and I can feel my cheeks turn red again with the way he’s looking at me.

It’s absolutely unfair that he can say a thousand words with just one brow.

I know he knows exactly what I’m thinking, but I still feel the need to defend myself, to try and explain my stupidity.

“I… I assumed that… Swithin was yours.”

I say awkwardly, looking between the two, and he laughs.

It’s just a dry chuckle, but it’s enough to make me feel a little weak at the knees. (Pull yourself together Simon, seriously.)

“No - no absolutely not. Don’t worry, I am far too gay to have children of my own.” He says quickly, “they’re all technically my step siblings but I prefer to just call them my siblings. I love them to bits but they are definitely not mine.”

I blink at him, my words failing me for a moment as I process what he’s just said to me.

I’m not surprised by the fact he’s gay, he’s far too pretty to only like women, but I am surprised by the fact he doesn’t like the term step siblings. I guess I wouldn’t know, having grown up as an orphan in foster homes, but it still surprises me. I can’t question it though, you learn pretty quickly not to ask people’s backstories when you grow up in care and I do not fancy opening old wounds here in a bloody Whittards.

Unfortunately for me, I am completely and utterly stupid. When I finally speak, I manage to stammer out, “So he’s not your husband?”

In reference to the other guy Baz has come in with, and promptly turn from pink to red as I realise what a ridiculous question that was.

Baz

My husband?? Niall??? God I cannot wait to tell Dev.

I stare at him for a moment, then laugh, glancing over at Niall who’s pretending not to be watching us out of the corner of his eye.

“My husband ? No - he’s my best friend. I’m single.” I explain, “he’s actually dating my cousin - not… that that’s relevant.” I add a little lamely.

Well done Baz. Really well done.

Way to impress the cute guy.

He’s clearly desperately uncomfortable now, and frankly so am I, but at least he has my shopping to scan as an excuse to break the tension.

“Is that all for you today?”

“Yes, thank you. I have my-“

“I already added the student discount.” He interrupts, the corner of his lips tugging into a crooked smile.

“UCL right?”

He remembered?

“Yeah, I’m a law student actually.”

His eyes widen in genuine surprise, and I find that I cannot get enough of the way he wears his emotions on his face. He’s so… open. I can see every thought he has in the way his expression twists.

It’s adorable.

“That’s sick!” His eyes are shining in genuine excitement at the prospect of my course as he says, “That’s so cool, I’ve got so much respect for people who go to university, I didn’t even apply. It’s a shame cause I would love to do something like criminology but… I’m way too thick to hack it.”

I feel my eyebrows furrow at his self depreciation and I’m irritated that he thinks so little of himself which is ridiculous because I don’t know anything about him.

“University is for everyone. You should go for it. There’s no reason not to try.”

He shrugs in response, his gaze dropping to the counter.

“Couldn’t afford it even if I wanted to.”

I take that as a clear a sign as any to drop the subject.

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence before he pushes the card machine towards me.

He’s hesitating, clearly working up to say something and as the machine spits out my receipt he blurts: “It was nice to see you again.”

I do not know what possessed me in that moment, because Basilton Grimm-Pitch does not make the first move, and yet for some reason…

I do.

I take the receipt from him, and reach over to take the pen out of his breast pocket (a move I have literally never made in my entire life ) and I write my phone number on the back of the paper.

And I give it to him.

“It was nice to see you again too.”

Simon

He’s given me his phone number.

The gorgeous, ridiculously named man that I’ve spent the past week and a half unable to stop thinking about despite the fact that I am not gay … (Penny seems convinced otherwise… weirdly as does Agatha, my actual girlfriend)

… has given me his number.

And I am thrilled.

I’ve sort of frozen in place, the receipt clutched in my hand as he tucks my pen back into my breast pocket and for the third time since he walked in, I’ve gone red.

I actually need to get a grip because this is humiliating.

I stammer something, I have no idea what, and he’s gone, sauntering out with the other guy.

I’m a complete mess for the rest of my shift, dropping everything, stuttering over my words and just making a tit of myself to every single customer. I’m itching to text him, but I have no idea what to say and I’m not allowed to get my phone out on the floor so I have to wait until my shift is over. I’m actually counting down the seconds by the time I’ve closed up shop until I can lock up and leave, and as the clock hits 6, I’m gone.

I save his number into my phone before I can lose the receipt and ruin this forever, and try to figure out what I’m going to say and it takes the entire duration of my walk home before I eventually settle on something simple, something I can’t overthink any more than I already have.

hey its simon frm the shop :)

I put a second smiley face and immediately delete it, before sending the text, choosing to ignore how my heart suddenly seems to be trying to beat out of my chest.

Chapter Text

Simon

I ignore my phone as I take a shower, then continue to ignore it as I start cooking dinner but as my pasta boils… I cave.

Three new notifications

I’m not proud of the way my heart skips a beat. I’m even less proud of the way I’m instantly disappointed when I realise none of them are from Baz. One is from Penny, and two are from Agatha and I immediately feel guilty for my momentary irritation.

She’s asking me how work was, and I hesitate for a moment, my thumbs hovering over the screen. I don’t massively want to reply because that means she’ll start telling me about her day and I’m too tired to pretend to care, but if I ignore her now I’ll forget until tomorrow and she’ll be upset with me.

my day ws ok ty

I shoot back, and she’s immediately typing.

I’m glad! I was at my dad’s clinic today, helping out with paperwork again.

He’s keen for me to start an apprenticeship with one of his friends but I can’t really be bothered

I really am too tired to care, but I play the loving boyfriend for a little. She’s a veterinary medicine student at Oxford, but she’s home in Bath for the summer. Her dad’s a private gp and she’s been working part time with him doing god knows what. She keeps telling me exactly what it is she’s been doing, and I keep forgetting.

I’ve stopped asking.

She knows I’ve forgotten again.

ur so smart

cnt wait 4 u 2 come back 2 ox

rlly miss u

I do miss her. I miss her a lot. I moved to Oxford with my best friend Penny (and her boyfriend Shep) when she got a place up here to study Economics and Management (don’t ask me what her course entails, I really do not know). The three of us live in a little two bed apartment together, and it works.

I don’t go to university, but I do work. I have the job at Whittards and a job at a bakery too which means I’m always out of the house. Oxford is beautiful, but I just feel constantly stupid. Everyone here is beautiful and smart and ridiculously academic and I… am me.

I know she’s read my message, but she doesn’t reply at first. I choose not to think about that.

My pasta’s finished cooking so I distract myself serving myself up a portion and smothering it in cheese (I’m glad Penny’s not here to see it, she’d almost definitely tell me off).

She replies while I’m eating and I can practically hear her reluctance through the screen.

I miss you too Si.

I choose not to reply.

I stick some random YouTube video on and prop my phone up against my water glass but as soon as I’ve sat back to eat, my phone buzzes.

New notification: Baz

I drop my fork, picking up my phone so quickly I almost spill my water.

It was nice to see you again today.

I apologise if I was being forward with giving you my number.

dnt b srry im glad u did

i ws wondring if ud cm back lol

Baz

Simon texts like an animal.

It would be enough to completely turn me off of him if he wasn’t so gorgeous (and such a mystery).

But even still.

It’s pretty appalling.

Simon do you know how to write? I’m not sure half of that was English.

I mean it as a light hearted jab but also I have never seen anyone text like this.

srry im so dilecix

dislexik

dylecksic????

fuck

howevr u spel it

Dyslexic.

that.

my gf hates it im so bad at txting so srry lol

aktually every1 h8s it

Girlfriend.

Girlfriend??

I’m so stupid. Of course he’s got a girlfriend. Of course he’s not gay.

He’s just a nice guy who I’ve come onto.

Fuck.

You have a girlfriend?

yh! her names Agatha, shes a studnt at oxfrod

i live here bc i moved w my best freind

shes a student 2

God his typos are horrendous.

That makes sense. I live here in Oxfordshire because my family has always had a home here, but I’m sure I would have gone to Oxford if I hadn’t grown up here.

thats sick tho

id luv 2 hv some kind of stately family home

or like

a family

im an orphan lol bt pls dont say ur srry or anything

idc :) im at piece w it

I absolutely cannot tell him that I already know. That I googled him and read about his past. Also, he told me the first time we met.

Still, it’s interesting to see his take on it.

Frankly I think it’s cool

You’re an interesting person Snow

I’m doing my best to ignore the way my heart is sitting in my stomach. God. I’ve met this boy twice and I’m upset by the knowledge that he’s got a girlfriend.

Ridiculous Baz.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Simon

I’m shovelling pasta into my mouth as I type, and I feel strangely giddy.

I’ve immediately opened up to him about being an orphan which I’ve surprised myself with, because I don’t normally tell people until they have to know, but his reaction… it’s surprised me.

In a nice way.

No one’s ever called me interesting.

ur far more intresting

Jesus my texting is appalling. I really don’t know how anyone puts up with it. Even I can’t read my own messages half the time.

u n ur million siblings

srry abt assuming they wer ur kids

ud b a fit dad tho

I seriously need to think before I speak.

I do mean it though.

He is gorgeous and from what I saw of him and his siblings, he’d be a brilliant father.

Thanks??

not in a weird way

Haha I did not take it in a weird way. It’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for Swithin’s dad.

Petra and Sophie less frequently and Mordelia never but Swithin constantly.

u 2 do look related

obvs lol

but hes so cute

I’ve retreated to my room by the time Penny and Shep get back and as much as I love them, I’m quite glad, because I don’t massively fancy another day of their judgement. I’m not sure why I’m being judged, but Penny’s Penny. And I’m me.

We chat a little more about Baz’s siblings before t he conversation turns back to me.

Forgive me if this is an uncomfortable, but can I ask you about being an orphan?

yh ofc

Sorry I know it’s not a great conversation I’m just curious

oh i rlly dont care lol

ive answered every question any1 can ask in my life

Did you ever know your parents?

nope. i ws abandoned at an orphanige as a baby

I think I told u when we met

Ah yes of course you did.

Did you stay in the same orphanage your whole life?

lol no

ive been 2 so many homes in my life

i was a bit of a problm kid so i got in2 trouble a lot

they didnt want me so i bounced around

got fostered on n off by 1 guy but nvr stcuk

was shite lol

i dont even kno my birthday just the month

june :)

Crowley.

That’s really rough Snow I’m sorry.

Sorry, I know you said not to say that.

I admire you.

jesus thats almost worse thn sayin ur srry

but ty :)

Can I ask what you did to be labelled a problem kid?

lol

yh i had rlly bad anger issues and kept getting into fights

the othr kids wer rlly nasty 2 me so i sort of learned to hit frst n talk l8r

i was scared n lonely n had nvr been takn seriously by any1 so i acted up

I don’t know what to say.

Thank you for telling me.

I’m really sorry that no one showed you the care and compassion you were owed I hope you’re surrounded by people who love you now.

Huh.

No one’s ever said that to me before. They always say some bullshit about how they’re sorry and it sucks but no one’s ever meant it like I feel like Baz does.

It makes my stomach twist and my eyes sting in a way I don’t know how to feel about.

thx

ive got aggie n penny n her bf

pennys my best m8 i live w her

We text for another hour or so, before I’m suddenly struggling to keep my eyes open, exhaustion from the day hitting me.

gudnite

gtg2 bed

up at 3 :(

That’s remarkably early for a coffee shop that doesn’t open until 9am

lol no I have 2 jobs

im a baker 2

I started baking when I was 16, as suggested by my social worker to try and redirect some of my anger and I absolutely fell in love with it. Within a month I was taking on an apprenticeship with a local bakery, and now three years later it’s the best thing I do. I’m a qualified pâtissier as well as a baker and it’s the first thing I’ve ever truly dedicated myself to.

I was head baker at my last place, but I had to step down when I moved to Oxford. I’d like to work my way back up, but I’ve only been at this new place for a couple of months, so I know it’ll take time. So far the only thing I’ve been granted is creative freedom with new specials because I consistently impressed them in my first few weeks with my creations that they decided it was worth trialling.

And it’s stuck.

My weekly specials are one of the most popular things the bakery (and it’s attached cafe) does.

It really helped me, starting to bake, and the difference was immediately noticeable. I stopped getting into as many fights (that stuck. I haven’t gotten in a fight in a while but… I’ve got a terrible tendency to go into things with my fists still), I was generally a lot calmer, and it got me out of the house and actually doing something useful with my time.

It’s the reason my transition to living with Penny was so smooth, because I’d finally started to figure out how to be a person.

And now here I am, a (moderately) functioning adult with two jobs and a flat and a girlfriend.

My phone buzzes and my attention is drawn back to Baz’s response.

You’re a baker?

That’s really cool actually

I don’t reply, but I’m smiling to myself as I plug my phone and settle into bed.

We text on and off for the next few days, mostly just discussing our days. I found out that the man I assumed was his husband is actually his best friend Niall, who’s dating his other best friend, his cousin Dev. He sends me a picture of the three of them and I can see how obviously in love Niall and Dev are immediately.

I tell him such and he points out that the two weren’t even dating in that photo.

I tell him about Penny and Shep, about how Agatha and I got together, and that’s sort of it. I don’t talk about my past again, and he doesn’t ask. It’s not that I dislike talking about it because I really don’t mind, it’s just that I don’t massively like being reminded how terrible my life is. I tend to just not think about any of it normally, and neither Penny nor Agatha ever bring it up.

Both Agatha and Penny have noticed something is up with me. Agatha asks me why I’ve barely been replying to her (I’m normally pretty terrible at texting anyone back as it is, I’ve just been even worse with Baz messaging me so much) and I don’t know what to tell her so I tell her that I’ve been busy.

It is true, but it’s not the whole truth and I don’t know why I couldn’t tell her. There’s some little, selfish part of me that wants to keep Baz entirely to myself. He’s a friend that she doesn’t know, a friend Penny doesn’t know. In some weird sense, he’s mine. And I like it that way.

Penny asks me why I’ve been smiling at my phone so much, and when I don’t immediately blame it on Agatha, she gets suspicious. She steals my phone out of my hands and holds it hostage until I tell her what’s going on. I think she thought I was cheating on Agatha and when I (lamely) explain that I’ve made a new friend… well… she’s a little sheepish when she hands me my phone back. She does accuse me of hiding things from her though, and I promise not to do it again. I don’t tell her anything more about Baz though. Not yet.

I mentioned my work schedule offhandedly to Baz a day ago, and as I settle down into bed, my phone buzzes with a message from him.

Sleep well Snow

Have a good shift at the bakery tomorrow

I can’t believe he’s remembered my schedule. I’m so touched that I don’t know what to say. Agatha can never remember my rota, always gets annoyed when I’m at work or getting up or going to bed crazy early. My random schedule annoys her to no end, especially if she stays over when I have a bakery shift and my alarm wakes us both up in the small hours.

thx

sleep wel urself

Speaking of Agatha, I should probably text her. She hasn’t messaged me all day, and I haven’t messaged her either, so I can’t feel too terrible about it.

gn baby love u lots

She doesn’t reply by the time I’m drifting off, my phone plugged in and on the bedside table.

—————

I finish work at 3pm the next day, and I’m starving . I don’t really tend to use my phone when I’m at work because of the risk of contamination and because it ends up covered in flour and food and greasy butter smears and it all jams up in my pocket so there’s fluff on it and crumbs in my clothes and it’s such a nightmare to clean.

So I don’t use it.

I’ve washed my hands though and cleared the worst of the mess off of me (I am truly the messiest baker alive, I cover myself in everything I put my hands on and I don’t even know how), and I look moderately cohesive as I leave the bakery, finally pulling my phone out of my pocket. I always take a sandwich from the cafe and I’ve got an absolutely loaded roast beef in fresh baked focaccia with cheese and salad (an organic locally grown micro salad thing, I don’t know what it means. This is a cafe in central Oxford that I could not afford if it weren’t for the fact I get everything free) and I’m so excited for it. I love food, I always have, and there’s something special about eating food that I had a hand in making.

I check my phone first though, thumbing through the notifications.

Three unread messages: Baz

I ignore how my heart skips a beat.

And then I see it.

Unread message: Aggs <3

hi Simon are you free this afternoon? We need to talk.

My heart sinks and I instantly feel sick, adrenaline rushing uncomfortably through me as I read her message again, and then again.

Fuck.

Fuck .

I’m calling her before I even realise what I’m doing, my hand trembling as I hold my phone up to my ear. She picks up just as I’m about to give up and she sounds weary, a little frustrated.

“Hi Simon.”

“Aggs, what’s up? I just finished work, what’s wrong?” I ask, biting back the confusion and nerves bubbling through my veins.

There’s a long pause, then she sighs, and I can hear her shifting around on the end of the line.

“I wanted to do this in a better way but… Simon I’m breaking up with you, I’m sorry.”

I feel as if I’ve been shot.

My heart has fallen out of my stomach and and is now lying bleeding on the floor, and I don’t know what to do.

“What?”

It’s the only thing I can force myself to say, words failing me completely.

“I’m breaking up with you Simon. I… I’ve not been happy lately and I sort of thought maybe it was you I wasn’t happy with and maybe it was but-“ she cuts herself off and I hear her swallow awkwardly.

“I reconnected with someone I went to school with over the summer and I… well… I think - no, I know. I’m a lesbian Simon.”

What?

I don’t know what to say.

I don’t know what to think.

I’m stuck standing on the side of the road with my phone held up to my ear, and it feels like my world has fallen to pieces.

“Simon? Are you there?”

I stammer something, I don’t know what, and she sighs again.

“I’ll let you get home Simon. We can talk about this later.”

And she hangs up.

I’m not entirely sure how I get home, and I’m not entirely sure what happens over the next few hours, but I find myself in a bar, drunk. Shep and Penny are away for the weekend visiting Penny’s family so I have the apartment to myself, which also means I don’t have a single friend around to talk to in person. And I’m not entirely sure why, but my first instinct isn’t to message Penny, or Shep, or even Agatha. It’s Baz. I want to message Baz.

So I do.

baz

bazildon

bassiktom

hoerbrr u spel ur nam e

Your texting has somehow gotten worse

yh iam m drumnk

Snow it is 6pm?

Are you okay??

no

agatah broke yp w me

my girlfbftiend

Oh Simon

I’m so sorry

penny n she p r awau so im dronwming mh sorrrows

How much have you had to drink?

idk

i stoped fountimg

counftimg

countin k

You should go home Snow

absddolutely not

om foing to drink until i fel bettrr

I highly doubt you will feel better getting drunk alone somewhere

Would you like me to come pick you up? I think you need a friend and not alcohol right now

noooo

font bither w me

you got stuf todo

domt worey abt me

I have no stuff to do actually

You’re my friend, I’ll happily worry about you

Where are you

not telking

Simon

Let me come and get you

fine

im her e

Baz

This ridiculous boy.

A bitter, silent thrill went through me when he confessed that he was now single, and I repressed it very quickly. I’m devastated for him, obviously, especially because he seems to be coping with it very badly. I mean, drunk at 6 in public. Alone.

He needs a friend.

I’m offering to pick him up immediately, he really shouldn’t be alone right now, and I really do quite like him. If he needs to cry to someone for an evening, I want to do that for him.

He’s sent me his location, so I set my map to navigate to it and hop in the car. He’s in a pub I know well, and I’m there in only 20 minutes later. If I broke a few traffic laws on the way… well… oops. I park on the double yellows outside and stick my hazards on, taking a moment to gather myself before making my way inside. I spot him instantly, he’s sitting in the corner of the room, nursing an almost empty pint. And he…

He looks a wreck. His face is puffy and tearstained, he’s still wearing his work clothes, and his curls are frizzy and sticking up in every direction from where he’s clearly been running his hands through it. I just want to wrap him in a blanket and hold him and never let go.

Obviously I don’t do that though, I walk over to his table and tap on it, catching his attention.

His head jerks up and blue eyes widen momentarily, before he breaks out into an easy smile at the sight of me. It’s a pitiful look, and I am struck by how badly I want to look after him.

“Baz! You actually came.” He’s slurring his words, and he almost loses his balance as he stands up, knocking against the table so hard his glass almost tips over. Crowley.

He’s a mess.

He stumbles and I instinctively reach out to support him and he comes crashing into my arms, and I am hugging Simon Snow, I’m holding this beautiful ridiculous boy that I’ve known for all of 3 days and have somehow fallen ridiculously in love with.

He pushes away almost immediately though, wobbly on his feet as he smiles sheepishly at me. “Sorry, clumsy.”

“Let’s get you home.”

Chapter Text

Baz

Simon trips as he gets into the passenger seat of the car and were it not for the door there, he’d have gone sprawling into the road. I’m quick to catch him, my arm wrapping around his waist as he rights himself, and I do everything in my power not to think about how devastatingly close to one another we are again. 

He’s literally just been broken up with by his girlfriend Basilton, get it together. 

Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to help, because my stupid gay brain just flips it on its head and reminds me that that means he’s single. 

He’s warm and sturdy and somehow surprisingly solidly built. There’s muscle there, muscle I wasn’t expecting, and I have to very quickly let go of him before I turn down the line of sheer depravity. 

“Here, just - get in the car Snow.” 

I don’t mean for it to sound quite so unbearably fond. 

He manages to slump into the passenger seat and get his seatbelt on, which I’m moderately impressed by given just how drunk he is, and I even manage to get his address out of him for the sat nav. 

We’re silent as we begin to drive, but it’s just as we turn onto the main road that he speaks up. He sounds so small and fragile, voice scarcely louder than a whisper above the noise of the engine. 

“...Baz?”

I glance over at him, and he’s curled up into himself, head resting against the glass. 

“Mmh?”

“She’s a lesbian.” 

He doesn’t immediately elaborate and I’m not entirely sure what he’s on about, so I look over at him again and realise there’s a tear trickling down his cheek.

“Who’s a lesbian?” 

“Agatha,” he sniffs, and brings a big hand up to scrub at his face. “She - she said that she wasn’t happy and that it was - it was me, and now - now she’s reconnected with someone and she’s realised she’s a lesbian and I - I don’t know if that means she cheated or –” he’s cut off by a sob tearing from his throat, raw and pained and my heart breaks for him.

“Oh Simon.” It’s instinctive, the hand that reaches out to him, that settles on his thigh, and as soon as I’ve realised I’ve done it I move to pull it away but he stops me, and takes my hand in his own. He really is so strong, his palms calloused and warm and completely dwarfing my slender fingers. My own hands aren’t small, but they’re dainty - pianists hands, as my mother called them when I was a child - and yet Simon makes me feel small. I’m taller than him, but slimmer and less built, and god does that do something to me. Honestly this is ridiculous, I need to get a grip but I am just so attracted to him.

He sobs again, and I squeeze his hand back. 

“This isn’t your fault, seriously. Breakups are fucking miserable,” not that I would know, “but this really isn’t your fault. You’re so nice, you’re smart and you’re funny and you’re kind and just - you’re a good person. She’s the one who didn’t tell you that she was uncomfortable, she should have been open and honest with you and she wasn’t, that’s not what good partners do. I - I’m sorry you can’t salvage this but it’s on her for not being the one to raise the issue.” it’s sort of spilling out of me, this reassurance, and I’m not entirely sure where it’s coming from, but it seems to be somewhat helping. 

He nods, staring down at our hands, but he doesn’t speak, so I keep going. 

“I mean - good for her for coming to terms with her sexuality, it’s hard, but there are so many better ways of doing it than just breaking up with someone out of the blue. But… there’s nothing you can do about it, it’s just gonna suck for a while… but you got - you got Penny, and um - Shep?, and you’ve got me.” He’s talked about his friends several times to me, but I’ve never actually spoken to him about them really. They sound like great people though. 

I’m not really sure what else to say from there, so I stop, and we finish the rest of the drive in silence. Simon’s still crying, but I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to fix that. Besides, he almost definitely needs it. 

His block of flats has a small carpark behind it which I’m silently grateful for, I don’t massively like leaving the Jaguar out on the side of the road, and then it’s time to get him out. I end up taking most of his weight as he finds his footing again, and for a brief second he twists and I think he’s going to fall, then he hugs me. He’s overwhelmingly warm, and I’m a little taken aback by it at first, before his shoulders shake and I wrap my arms around him. 

“Thank you,” he chokes into my shoulder, voice muffled by my coat. “I - I appreciate the ride.”

“Anytime, seriously. We’re friends now, I’d rather pick you up than let you drink yourself into oblivion or something.” I answer back, and I feel him smile. 

“You’re a really good friend.” 

When he pulls away, I can see just how tear stained and splotchy his face is, tan and freckled skin now pink and red. His lashes are wet and glistening, and the whites of his eyes are pink, which makes his eyes an even more compelling shade of blue. 

“You deserve it.” 

He turns towards the entrance, then staggers, and I’m quick to catch up to him and sling a supportive arm around his waist. 

“No - Baz, you don’t gotta help me any more,” he slurs, and I shake my head. 

“Nonsense.”

He has the sense not to argue with me over that. 

We make it up to his flat - just the fourth floor thankfully - and I take his keys from him, (it was as appalling as it was hilarious, watching him attempt to open the front door - he dropped them about 6 times in the span of a minute) and open the door. The flat isn’t huge, but it’s nice. It’s well decorated and it smells good and it’s clean, and it’s a very welcome change from the typical university accommodation I’ve seen… and lived in. I guide him over to the sofa and he collapses down onto it, and so I busy myself with fetching him a glass of water. The kitchen is also lovely and clean, and full of spices and fresh fruit and vegetables, and it’s not hard to find two matching cups - another surprise, university students never have matching kitchenware. Well - I do, but that’s only because Daphne insisted on going around some local markets and buying matching sets of handmade stoneware plates and dishes and mugs and the such-like for me. I’m aware that that is most certainly not the norm, not even here at Oxford. 

When I return, he’s managed to curl himself in a little ball around a pillow, crying so wretchedly into the fabric. 

I sit by his feet, setting both cups down on the coffee table. 

“Do you wanna try having some water? You really should… it’ll make you feel better.”

Simon

I haven’t felt this awful in a long time. I’m so drunk, to the point where everything feels like it’s spinning, and I’m nauseous and tired and so, so sad. I feel like Agatha’s torn my heart out, but - weirdly - I’m not surprised by it. She’s been so distant and cold the past month or two… or more, actually, now that I think about it. She’s not cared about me and I think deep down I know that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt so much. 

I can’t stop crying, and it feels like it’s choking me. I should be embarrassed, but I’m far too drunk to care. I feel the sofa dip with Baz’s weight at my feet and I know he’s right that I should probably have some water, because I’ve had a lot of alcohol and not a lot of food. 

Reluctantly, I push myself up, clutching the pillow to my chest as I reach for the cup. It’s so cold that condensation has beaded on the glass, and I realise that I am actually thirsty. Another sob tears its way out of my chest as I reach for it, and my hand wobbles as I pick up the glass but Baz is there, Baz supports me, and weirdly it only makes me cry harder. 

It’s a battle, but I manage to drink half of it and only spill a little down my front, and weirdly it makes me feel better. It’s quite hard to drink and cry and it’s so cold that it snaps me out of it a little bit. I can’t believe Baz is being so nice to me, but I also can’t really believe I texted him. It’s really not been long that we’ve been friends for and yet we’ve gotten so surprisingly close so quick. It’s really late, and yet he’s still here, a reassuring hand on my knee. 

My stupid, breakup addled brain tells me I want to kiss him.

I push that away very quickly.

Baz

I manage to get Simon to drink two full glasses of water before he starts falling asleep where he sits and I decide it’s time for bed. 

“You should get some sleep,” I whisper to him. He’s been crying into my shoulder for the last little while, curled up against me, warm and soft and fragile and as nice as this is, there’s no point him sleeping here on the sofa.

He nods, but makes no move to get up which makes it clear that it’s down to me to get us there.

The first door I open is the bathroom, but the second is definitely his room, given the framed photo of him and some blonde girl. Agatha, I presume. I help him over to his bed, and he just flops down onto it - thankfully not before I manage to pull back the covers because I am definitely not strong enough to wrestle them out from under him -, hardly attempting to fight sleep now. He’s wearing a t-shirt and a hoodie, so there’s no point in trying to get them off of him, but he’s also wearing jeans and I know from experience that they are not fun to sleep in. 

“Hey - Snow, you should take your jeans off, you got any shorts or something you want?” He doesn’t respond, just starts clumsily unbuttoning them before he shoves them down and oh.

I can’t look away.

I should really be trying to find him some shorts or something, but those legs… those legs. 

I was right about him being beefy, his thighs are like all muscle, toned and yet simultaneously a little soft, and covered in curly, light brown hair. And freckles.

He has so many freckles. 

I very deliberately don’t look at his crotch, because that is definitely a step beyond inappropriate and I am most definitely toeing the line as it is already, but god - fuck - if this isn’t going to fuel my erotic fantasies for like forever. 

As soon as his jeans are off, he flops back and I pull the duvet over the top of him. He’s clearly comfortable enough in just his red boxers, so I leave him like that. I’m pretty sure he’s already asleep, given the way he’s gone limp and soft, his mouth hanging open.  He’s a mouth-breather. Disgusting. 

(Well, maybe disgustingly adorable.)

There’s a plastic bucket under the sink which I grab and put next to his bed, as well as a large glass of water, and then once I think about it, two paracetamol and little note for the morning. If he doesn’t have a cracking headache I’ll be impressed. 

By the time I’m done, it’s nearly one am. It’s not that late, not really, but I’m not entirely sure I fancy driving back, and I’m really not sure I fancy leaving him alone. 

I’m sure he won’t mind if I stay on the sofa. 

Simon

I wake up nauseous, dizzy, and with a killer headache. 

My curtains are half closed and there’s light bathing me where I lie, too bright and hot and not even remotely helping me with my headache. I don’t remember getting home, I don’t remember an awful lot beyond the fact that I think I texted Baz, and I seem to remember him offering to drive me home and - 

God.

Did Baz take me home?

I push myself up so I’m sitting back against the headboard, which is a terrible idea because every part of my body protests and I heave, clamping a hand over my mouth. The nausea passes after a moment or two though, and I notice the glass of water on my bedside table, and next to it, two tablets of paracetamol. 

Yeah Baz definitely brought me home. Fuck. I don’t remember it, I don’t remember what I said, I don’t remember anything at all and -

I stop myself and take a deep breath. There’s no point getting stressed, I’m sure the worst I did was cry about Agatha. 

I take a long drink of the water, then take the pills, and collapse back into bed. I have no idea what time it is, and I feel so miserable, but I really ought to get up and eat something before I start feeling any sicker. There’s a Chinese takeaway next door which has been my go to hangover cure since we moved there and I think I’ve got some cash lying around to pay for it. I lost my debit card a while ago and I’ve not bothered getting round to replacing it, which means I’ve sort of had to live off of whatever cash I’ve had lying around the past few weeks and it is rapidly dwindling. 

I drag myself up out of bed and go to the bathroom first, leaning my head against the cold glass of the mirror while I brush my teeth and then piss, before I head through to the living room and freeze.

Because curled up under the thin blanket we keep on the sofa, fast asleep with long black hair tangled over the pillow, is Baz. He’s bathed in the same warm golden light, creeping through the cracks in the curtains, making his olive skin glow, and his hair shine. He’s beautiful, actually. It’s odd, that that’s my first instinct, but it’s true, and completely undeniable. 

I’m not entirely sure why he’s here, but it’s clear he was definitely the one to bring me home and leave that stuff out for me and now he’s stayed. For me. 

It makes my heart do a flip in my chest. 

I busy myself with drinking another glass of water, then getting out the nice bag of coffee. Work gives me a massive discount on everything, and both Penny and Shep hate instant, so they invested in a proper espresso machine and steamer wand with the understanding that I would use it and be in charge of supplying the beans and such. I don’t mind, I do love making coffee, and Whittard’s stuff is really really nice, always guaranteed to impress. 

Baz

I’m awoken by the sound of coffee beans grinding, and for a brief second, I’m not entirely sure where I am. I’m uncomfortable, curled up on a soft brown sofa, and as I blink awake I remember. I’m in Simon’s flat. Their kitchen and living room are attached, and I can see Simon busying himself with a coffee machine. My hair’s all loose and tangled, and as I push myself up into sitting I fumble for my hair band to pull it out of my face. I normally hate having it up, but considering the state I saw Simon in last night, I don’t really care enough. 

It’s as I’m pulling it back into a bun that he appears with two mugs of coffee in his hands. He looks terrible still, eyes red and puffy but he’s not crying right now, and in fact when he sees that I’m awake, he smiles. It’s so bright and beautiful, to the point where it’s almost blinding. It’s like looking into the sun, the way it warms me, and I can’t look at anything other than him. It takes my breath away a little bit, because he’s just gorgeous. 

“I made you some coffee.” He says lamely, offering out one of the mugs. “I wasn’t entirely sure how you like it so I just put some sugar in it just in case… you strike me as the kinda guy to act like he likes black coffee and actually like it crazy sweet and syrupy instead.” 

My cheeks burn pink, because he’s completely right, and I reach up to take the mug from him. 

“Thank you.” He’s done latte art on it, three little hearts, and it’s utterly adorable and I desperately want to kiss him about it.

“You’re welcome.” He grins and deposits himself on the sofa next to me, almost spilling his coffee in the process before he turns to me. “Um - I just wanted to say thank you, for last night. I don’t really remember much but… you’ve been so kind to me and yeah… thanks.” 

It’s so sincere that I have to hide the way my blush darkens behind a sip of coffee. It’s really good - although that’s not surprising, given the fact he works in a shop that exclusively sells tea and coffee - and I’m smiling too. 

“You don’t have to thank me, seriously. I’d do it any time.” I mean it. I’ve always been a little selfish, I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. Dev and Niall are the only people who get to see the real me, I’ve always preferred to be solitary and hide myself away, but something about the genuine sincerity and kindness that is Simon Snow begs for me to be me. I feel compelled to let him in, to let him see me and know me because for the first time in forever, I’ve found someone I want to get to know. 

“Yeah well, ‘s not like I have anyone else right now. I haven’t told Penny or Shep ‘cause I don’t wanna ruin their trip, so I… yeah… it kinda felt like you were the only one I could ask and I know it was a lot to ask so yeah… thanks.” He’s clearly trying to look nonchalant about it, but he wears his emotions on his face and his tear-stained cheeks really don’t help his case. I can tell how much this means to him, how truly grateful he is for this newfound friendship. 

I take another sip of my coffee because I can tell he’s got something else he wants to say. He’s so easy to read. It’s a marvel, honestly.

“Um - I’m not sure what your day plans are, and um - I’m sure you’re gonna head out soon, but… well, I was going to go get Chinese takeout for breakfast and wallow on the sofa if you’d like to join me?”

Why not? The fact that he doesn’t want to be alone doesn’t need to be said, and I don’t massively want to leave him alone.

“Sure.” I’m a university student for god’s sake, I’ve had worse things for breakfast. 

Simon throws on a ratty hoodie over his t-shirt (a different, rattier one than what he was wearing last night), and I realise that he’s put on some sweats too, and he shouldn’t be attractive in this outfit, with his curls rumpled and crushed against the side of his head from sleep, but he so is. 

The Chinese really is just next door, and he slumps against the wall while we wait to order, his hangover clearly still kicking his arse.

“How are you feeling?”

He just groans, and I can’t help but laugh at him. 

“You really were in quite a state last night, I’m impressed you’re even up and functioning.”

He cracks an eye open at me, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a smile. 

“I’m sorry –”

“ - don’t. Seriously Snow, you gotta stop fucking apologising.”

He laughs at that, and I laugh too.

It’s our turn to order now and we step up to the counter. 

“What would you boys like?”

“Um - can we please get a crispy chilli beef, a beef and black bean sauce, um… a singapore chicken noodle, ten spring rolls, two boiled rice, and some prawn crackers.” He glances over at me, and I realise that I’m staring at him, my mouth open. “And what do you want Baz?”

“What do I want? Jesus Snow that is so much food!” He shrugs, his cheeks turning pink and I immediately feel guilty. “Sorry. Um - could I get a Kung Poa prawn and some rice?”

The guy behind the counter nods, totting up the price while Simon fishes around in his pockets and comes up with a handful of crumpled bank notes. 

“£30.84.”

Simon moves, but I’m faster, handing the guy my card. Simon’s face immediately falls, then his eyebrows furrow. 

“Baz!”

“Not a word, my treat. I’m looking after you.” 

He frowns, then his expression softens and he sighs. I think it’s clear from my expression that I will not budge. 

“Fine, but it’s my turn next time.”

Next time. The thought of that fills my stomach with butterflies.

The guy hands me back my card and receipt, and we go back to our wall to wait, Simon immediately leaning against it again.

“I eat a lot.” he says simply, eyes closed. “ ‘m always hungry, and there’ll be leftovers… maybe.”

I lean back next to him, turning so I’m facing him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to comment, that was a dick move.” 

He shakes his head. 

“Nah, you’re fine.”

We don’t chat much while we wait, but as soon as we get our bags of takeout, he cheers up significantly. He’s grinning by the time we make it back into his flat, and he dumps the bags on the coffee table. 

“Do you want something to drink? I’ve got tea, more coffee, um - there’s some apple juice in the fridge, and um… we might have some cans of stuff - oh, actually yeah, we’ve got some pepsi and some lemonade.”

“Some tea would be nice, actually. Do you have any green tea, or is that pretentious of me?” I ask, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, and he grins. 

“Nah, we’ve got loads of different teas. I’ll get you a mug.”

I watch him bustling around in the kitchen, and he returns a few minutes later with two mugs of tea - one green and one regular - and a handful of cutlery. He dumps them on the table then slumps next to me as he picks up his first tupperware of food. 

We chat as we eat, about anything and everything. I tell him about my family, about Dev and Niall, and he tells me about Penny and Shep and his co-workers at both his jobs, and the whole time is spent laughing and smiling and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think about Agatha once. He demolishes two full portions of food by the time I’ve finished most of mine (I can never eat a full takeaway, there’s always a few bites left for later), but I’m contented just to sip my tea and nibble on the prawn crackers as he continues to stuff his face. I’m amazed at how he manages to put his food away, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat this much in my life, and I’ve also never seen anyone quite so happy as they eat either, he looks contented beyond words. It’s a welcome change from both last night and this morning. 

By the time he’s finished everything, I’m beyond impressed, and it’s clear he’s on the verge of falling asleep again. I’m not surprised, I always have to spend the whole day in bed to get over from a hangover. I get up to clear everything away which he meekly protests against, but doesn’t make any attempt really to fight me on it, instead pulling the blanket over his legs as he gets comfortable. 

When I return, he’s taking up almost all of the sofa, lazily sipping his tea. There’s space for me at his feet, but he shifts. 

“You can lie down - if you want? I was gonna put a film on or something.”

He’s inviting me to lie next to him.

On the sofa.

I open my mouth to reply, to say that I should go home and leave him to it, but my body betrays me. 

“What are we watching?”

I sit on the other end of the sofa so my feet tuck up against his ribs, matching his own against me, and he instinctively shifts so he’s lying against them, keeping them warm with his body. Everything he does is so focused on others, like his whole being is designed to take care of people, and it makes something warm and golden flood through me. He’s just so special, so unique, and I don’t understand how anyone could ever pass on someone like him.

Simon

Baz is still here. 

I don’t really understand it, but god am I not complaining. He’s so easy to be around, so easy to talk to. I haven’t thought about Agatha once since he woke up because when I’m with him, it feels like I can’t focus on anything else. He’s nice and he’s beyond pretty and he’s just generally pretty mint, really. I like him.

He’s told me more about his family, and I impressed myself remembering (most) of his sibling’s ridiculous names. He’s so soft as he talks about them, a lovely change from the hard exterior he often carries, and I love listening to him speak. He explains his family dynamic, how his mother died when he was 5, but he loves his step mother. He tells me about his aunt Fiona who sounds utterly insane and yet also a very important figure in his life. His whole life sounds a little bit mad, actually, and I’m beyond intrigued. I’ve never had a family, having been an orphan and all that, and it’s fascinating to hear about his. I’ve always dreamed about it, having a big family, but then I think about how annoying the other kids were in the various homes I bounced around between, and I think actually maybe I would have preferred to be an only child. 

I am okay with it, I’m okay with all of it, it’s only taken me several years, but sometimes I can’t help but dream. Parents would have been nice. Well, attention would have been nice. I wasn’t the best kid growing up, so the adults always disliked me, so I was never one to be fussed over to spoilt. No foster families ever wanted me, no one ever wanted me. 

It’s okay though. 

I know there’s nothing I can do about it. 

I’m dozing off as we watch something - I’m actually not sure what, I chose the first thing that looked good on Shep’s suggested - but I can see the way Baz is tucked up under the blanket, a strand of black hair falling over his face as he stares at the screen, and I can’t really look away. I can feel his feet against my chest, his socked toes absently rubbing together. It’s something I do, I realise, and the thought makes me smile. We’re so similar, but so, so different at the same time, and it just makes me want to get to know him more. Something about him is so enticing, and I know I don’t have a whole lot of friends but I know it’s never felt like this.

There’s just something about him, something I can’t put a name to, but he’s special. 

And I like him an awful lot. 

Baz

Simon falls asleep almost immediately, and I’m so warm and comfortable that I know I’m not far behind him. Our legs are pressed together, and I’m tucked up under the blanket, and I’m so full and well,  I guess I am tired still… and I guess it would be rude to disappear on him while he sleeps. 

Simon

We wake up a little after 2, and we’ve both clearly shifted in our sleep given the way our legs are tangled together. I don’t really have the heart to pull away so I don’t, just letting Baz blink himself awake. I love cuddling, I’ve always been such a physical touch person, so this is great, but I don’t know if he is so I let him be the one to break away. 

He stiffens when he realises, and I brace myself, ignoring the way my heart sinks at the idea of him moving, but he doesn’t. He just readjusts and looks at me. It’s the most hesitant I’ve ever seen him, so I smile at him, and he relaxes immediately. 

We end up spending the entire day together, and by the time evening rolls around, it’s clear that neither of us really want him to go. 

He does actually have to though, and I hug him as we get to his car.

“Thank you again,” he goes to interrupt, but I hold a hand up. “Just let me, yeah? I mean it. Thank you Baz. I… I really needed this. I’ll  be okay though, Penny ‘n Shep are back midday tomorrow so it’s not like I’ll be alone for long.” 

“Anytime, Snow.”

I watch him drive away, and something soft and tender flutters in my chest as I do.

I don’t let myself think about it though.