Chapter Text
TWENTY FOUR DAYS LATER
BAZ
“Move in with me,” Simon says. We’re in Simon’s bedroom. We’ve been in Simon’s bedroom for quite some time now. (He brought me tea and toast in bed this morning and I’ve seen no reason to leave since.)
I lift my head off of where it had been resting on his chest and pull back.
“I’m sorry?” I say.
“Move in with me,” he repeats, with more confidence. He scoots down the bed slightly and flips on his side to face me and he’s giving me a wide, cheery grin. Like what he’s saying isn’t absolutely insane.
“I still don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Move—” he says, enunciating clearly. I shove his shoulder.
“I can hear what you’re saying,” I stop him. “But I don’t understand—”
He cuts me off this time. “Move. In. With. Me.” He punctuates each word with a kiss.
“We,” I try to articulate as he pushes me onto my back. “Haven’t even,” he rolls on top of me. “We only,” my breath catches as he kisses my neck. “Simon,” I sigh as he kisses his way down my chest.
He's doing this on purpose. I know it, and yet am powerless to stop it.
“We haven’t even—had—discussed if—” He pushes up my t-shirt. “We’re—if you’re—if I’m,” he’s kissing my hip. It’s incredibly distracting. “Your boyfriend,” I finally manage.
His head pops up at that, caramel coloured curls bouncing. “What? Are you not?”
“I don’t know, am I?” Please. Please. Please. He’s looking up at me with his guileless blue eyes and his moles and he’s the only thing I want in this world.
“Would you—would you want to be?” He swallows and it’s my second favourite show. Maybe third. Last night was quite…spectacular.
Be brave, Basilton. Say yes. “Would you ?” So close.
He nods, then looks at my mouth and says, “‘I’m already yours.’ Isn’t that what you said?”
I did. I am. I nod.
A grin dawns across his freckled face (his very handsome freckled face) and I can’t help but smile back.
“And you know I’m already yours, babe,” he grins as he leans up to kiss me.
“I did not know that,” I correct.
“Okay, but now,” he kisses me softly, “you do.”
❄️❤️🔥
“So when—” Simon sinks down onto my cock again and I moan, raking my nails down his thighs. “Are you—” I’m trapped underneath him and the heat of his body is slick and tight around me. He’s killing every thought I’m having before it can even start to take shape and he’s rolling his hips in a way that’s making me lightheaded. “Moving—” I hold onto his hips as I plant my feet on the mattress and thrust up into him. “In?”
“What?” What? What is he talking about?
“I can borrow—” Simon says as he leans over me. I pant against his throat as I piston my hips, fucking up into him where he’s holding himself above me on his hands and knees, “Shep’s—oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—truck.”
“I’m not,” I don’t bother trying to catch my breath, “moving in,” Simon’s thighs start to shake and I drop my hips back down to the bed, “with you.”
“Why not?” He lowers himself onto me again and strokes himself as he rocks his hips.
“We just started,” I think I might be slurring. “This,” I try to say, pointing back and forth between the two of us. But Simon clenches around me and I can’t do anything but throw my head back and shout.
“This started months ago,” he says. He pushes his hands against my stomach for leverage as he lifts himself up as high as he can before dropping back down. A cry punches out of me and he does it again. Then again. I think he’s trying to kill me.
“Not—fuck!—officially.”
“Didn’t need,” he says, starting to bounce, “to be official.”
“Simon, Simon, Simon,” I chant as he fucks himself onto me. “I’m going to come if you keep—”
“Then come, babe,” he says and places his hands on my chest.
The entire world blacks out of existence as Simon rides me through my orgasm. It’s just me and him amongst the stars that pop and flash behind my eyelids.
“Fancied you from the first time I saw you,” he says, hand moving furiously over his own cock as I continue to twitch and pulse inside of him.
“So did I.” The confession falls out of me as I pull out and run my hands up and down his thighs.
His face is flushed, his mouth open, his cock glistening. And this is my favourite show. I bat his hand out of the way and stroke him until he leans back and comes across my chest, my neck, my chin.
He slumps forward, collapsing on top of me, chest heaving. He kisses my chest.
“So, move,” he kisses my nipple. “In,” then the other. “With,” then my tattoo. “Me,” he kisses me on the lips. He tastes like come and I press my tongue into his mouth. “Please?”
“And what if…” I kiss him again.
“What if what?” He lays on top of me and I wrap a lazy arm around him. Then another.
“What?” I sigh against his temple, holding him close.
“Please,” he breathes into my ear. “Please, Baz.”
“Anything for you, love.”
TWENTY FOUR WEEKS LATER
SIMON
“So, how are the cats?” Ebb asks as we feed the kids pellets. (The goats. Not the children.) The summer sun is high in the sky above us and I've already started to sweat through the white linen short sleeve shirt Baz tossed at me this morning as we were getting dressed.
“They’re good,” I say. “Sage wants to play all the time. I taught her how to fetch. And I bought her this rug thing she likes to roll around in. And Rosemary keeps Baz company in the study while he’s working. Every time I go in there, she’s sitting on his lap like he’s some sort of evil supervillain. Well, in his lap or in the window seat I made her. But she loves him.”
“And how are things with you and Basil?” She asks.
Before I can answer, I’m grinning. I can’t stop grinning these days.
“It’s great,” I say. I think we’ve shagged in every possible place in the house, including the stairs, I don’t say. The stairs were a mistake anyways, we both agreed afterwards.
“He’s great,” I say, looking towards Baz who’s still in the kitchen with Sorrel. I can see him smiling. He’s all smiles these days too.
“And you’re living together?”
“Yeah, finally got him to move out of his place about a month ago,” I say. “I got him to agree to move in with me in January but he was a little…uh…” Cock drunk, is what I’m thinking. “Drunk,” is what I go with.
“Basil? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sozzled before,” Ebb looks back at the house like she’s really trying to picture it. (It was a thing of beauty. It always is with Baz. And I’ve seen him in all sorts of states now but the way he kinda melts and drapes himself all over me after sex is possibly my favourite.) (But honestly, everything he does is my favourite.) (He’s my favourite.)
“Yeah, well,” my voice cracks and I clear my throat. “When he sobered up he told me that it was too soon to be living together but he only ever went back to his flat to grab more clothes or books or summat and then about a month ago, he moved in officially. And it only took one trip because all of his stuff was already at mine.” She laughs at that.
“Ahh, young love,” Ebb says, smiling.
“Yeah,” I mumble. I haven’t actually told Baz I love him yet. It feels so…big. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone I love them, except my Nan.
Ebb looks at me with her head cocked to one side.
“Do you love him?” She asks but I can’t say it so I just nod.
“But you haven’t told him.” It’s not a question but I shake my head anyway.
“How come?” She doesn’t sound judgemental. Ebb never sounds judgemental. Just curious.
“Dunno,” I mutter. I think it all the time. I think it every time I wake up next to him, every time he cuddles up next to me on the couch. I tell him I love him in my head every time he laughs at one of my stupid jokes, every time he lets me kiss him with my morning breath, every time he puts on the crocs he hates. I love him when he’s serious, when he’s sweet, when he’s undone, when he’s put together. I love him. I love him. I—
“I was scared outta my mind to tell Sorrel I loved her. Worried I would scare her off with how much I felt for her. Which was properly thick of me because she told me she loved me after three weeks of us snogging,” Ebb laughs a little and I do as well.
“Do you regret not saying it sooner?” I ask.
“Regret is a funny way of thinking about it,” Ebb says, patting a goat on the head as she looks pensive. “What are you worried about happening—if you tell him?”
“I dunno. Everything? Nothing? M’not sure.”
“But you’re happy with him?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. “I am.”
BAZ
Simon is on the quieter side throughout dinner but he still kicks my ankle when I say something that makes him laugh and he places his hand on my thigh while we chat with Ebb and Sorrel over coffee and biscuits.
He doesn’t seem melancholy or depressed. He seems preoccupied.
We leave when Ebb and Sorrel announce they have to put the kids to bed. Oleander is not happy with this turn of events so we remind him we have to get home to Rosemary and Sage. After that, he shoos us out the door as Ebb and Sorrel laugh.
Simon doesn’t notice as I drive in the opposite direction from which we came. He does notice when I pull into a car park and turn off the car.
“Is everything okay?” He asks.
I open the car door and get out. I’m not sure what’s going on but I don’t think being in the car is helping.
“Baz,” Simon calls after me as I stroll past a pub and down the narrow lane.
“This way, Salisbury.”
The sun is low in the sky and has turned the world to gold. The dried grass doesn’t look colourless and sad, instead it radiates warmth. It was an uncomfortably hot day but it’s turned into a pastoral, halcyon evening.
“Where are we?” Simon asks, catching up with me.
“The ruins of Godstow Abbey,” I say, starting to walk through the crunchy grass towards the largest remaining part of the abbey.
“How did you know this was here?”
“Came here when I was at uni.”
“Right,” Simon nods as he looks around the ruins. He wanders over to the remnants of a stone wall and looks like he wants to climb it.
“Careful,” I warn.
“M’not doing anything,” Simon turns, looking guilty with his hands behind his back.
“Not yet,” I say and that gets a smile out of him.
He wanders back to me and tucks one side of my hair behind my ear. He gives me a long sideways look. The air smells thick and sweet like dried grass. The river is a stone’s throw from us but it’s too gentle to make a sound. The only noise comes from the crickets and the hum of summer.
He’s so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him. His hair is being gilded with the last of the day’s sunlight and his skin is glowing with it. I place my hand on his cheek and look into his perfectly blue eyes. And I feel so unbelievably lucky. To be here with him. To be with him full stop.
Simon leans forward and I close my eyes, breathing him in through it all. He kisses me, soft and undemanding. Like it’s the only thing he wants in this world. Like it’s his only purpose. His only goal.
He’s kissing me just to kiss me.
His warm, rough fingers are featherlight as he ghosts them over the skin of my cheek, my neck, my back.
He’s being so tender. Reverent. I’m not sure if I should be feeling sacrilegious for kissing my gay lover in the ruins of an old nunnery but in fact, I feel holy. I feel venerated. Hallowed. Sacred. Like Simon walked in here and decided I was the one worth worshiping.
“I love you,” he says into the space between our lips and my heart feels fit to burst. Like it’s too big for my chest.
I can hardly breathe but I manage to say, “I love you too,” and his smile is brilliant. “I love you so much.”
❤️🔥
“I love you,” I tell him as we walk hand in hand away from the abbey.
❄️
“I love you,” Simon laughs as we sing along to the radio on the car ride home.
❤️🔥
“I love you,” I smile before kissing him in the foyer of our house.
❄️
“I love you,” Simon whispers against my skin as he finishes unbuttoning my shirt.
❤️🔥
“I love you,” I choke out as we rock against each other.
❄️
“I love you,” Simon breathes as we fall asleep.
❤️🔥
TWENTY FOUR MONTHS LATER
SIMON
“Damn, Simon.” Shepard says, finding me in my old bedroom. “Baz looks crazy hot tonight.” The door shuts with a loud click, blocking out the sound of the party downstairs.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I say, exasperated.
Baz is in a blue velvet suit so dark it’s almost black and it’s been beaded to look like a starry night sky. He tried it on for me last night so I wouldn’t ‘be too distracted,’ today.
Ha bloody ha.
If anything, all it did was make me hard as soon as I saw him in it this evening. He’s wearing a black dress shirt with his suit tonight but last night he wore it with that see through shirt he wore at the TIFS show the year before last. He did a little catwalk for me in the bedroom and then I splayed him out on the edge of the bed and fucked him in nothing but the shirt. It was heaven. (I think we may have permanently ruined the shirt though.)
Baz is compensating for his lack of see through shirt by having one too many buttons on his shirt unbuttoned so I can see the edges of his tattoo through his chest hair when I look carefully. (I’m trying not to look carefully. If I do, I’ll have to sneak upstairs to get myself off so I don’t embarrass myself in front of everyone currently milling about our sitting room.)
Shepard took Baz’s instruction to ‘dress up’ for tonight’s party in a different direction and is wearing a Santa suit. He’s not got the white beard but I think that’s because Penelope made him leave it at home.
“So, let’s see it!” Shepard says excitedly.
“Door’s locked?” I ask and Shepard tries to twist the handle.
“Locked,” he confirms.
“Okay,” I say and start digging through the wardrobe. I pull out the crocs box I’ve been hiding in here and set it on the bed.
Shepard walks over to me as I lift the lid and pull out a small black velvet box. The lid opens with a crack and I hand it to Shepard.
“Oh shit, dude.” Shep is wide eyed as he stares at the gold ring. It’s fairly simple except for the sun engraved in the band with a small diamond at its center.
“It’s nice, right?” I ask, nervously.
“It’s gorgeous, dude.” Shepard pluck the ring out of the box. “What does the engraving on the inside mean? ‘All my lives?’” he asks and I flush.
“Um, it’s just something—something I said to him—that he really—he liked.” I’m blushing like mad but Shepard doesn’t point it out or ask me to explain further. I do anyway. “That he’s the love of my life, of all my lives,” I murmur.
Shepard puts the ring back in the box and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“That’s beautiful, man. Really, that’s some serious poetic shit.”
“Thanks,” I mutter and take the ring back from him.
“Do you know when you’re going to pop the question?”
“I—I have an idea—kinda,” I say. Sounding as insecure as I feel.
“What’s the plan, man?” Shep asks, still examining the ring.
“His birthday, I think. Or is that selfish? I don’t wanna ruin his 30th,” I rush to say.
“I don’t know how getting engaged would ruin his birthday. I kinda think that would actually be the dopest present.” Shepard shrugs. “But I have no idea. I’m easy. I think the only way I would have said no is if Penny proposed to me while on the run from the law or while I was on the toilet.”
“I thought she did propose to you while you were both hiding from the police,” I say.
“You know what, you're totally right. She did. Good point.”
BAZ
“Bunce, I was hoping to get your opinion on something,” I say, placing my hand on Penelope’s shoulder.
Penelope is wearing a dark green tartan dress with a black velvet collar. She’s dyed her hair the colour of cranberries and she’s wearing a headband of delicate gold stars that I’m sure is going to get tangled in her curls before the night is over.
“If you ladies would excuse us,” I intone and I nod my head towards the stairs.
“One sec,” Penny says to Agatha, who showed up looking like Elsa in a shimmery blue shift, and Minty, who is in a frilly red and white striped dress.
I close the door to the study behind Penelope and say, “You’d think with a name like Minty, you might want to avoid looking like a candy cane.”
Penny’s laughter cracks through the study and then she says, “Maybe that was the point.”
“Let’s go with that,” I say, heading towards the desk.
“What did you need my opinion on?” she asks.
I dig through one of the drawers until I pull out a small powder blue velvet box. I hand it to her.
“Oh, Basil,” she says, lifting the lid and turning the box this way and that. “Wait—Since when have you asked me for fashion advice in regards to Simon?”
“I never have and I never will,” I say. “But this isn’t about fashion. This is about Simon.”
“It’s exquisite, Baz,” she says, still admiring the ring. “He’ll love it. But he’d love it even if it came out of a Kinder egg. As long as you were the one giving it to him.”
I huff a laugh at that. The ring itself is a gold signet ring with a modern, low profile. Inoffensive. Unobtrusive. But irrefutable.
“I don’t recognize the crest,” she says, inspecting the ring.
The crest has a simple design. Clean. “I designed it,” I say, picking invisible lint off my trousers. “For the two of us.”
"You—" Bunce looks at me.
“It didn’t feel right erasing either of our heritages so I,” I wave my hand towards the ring.
Bunce is still staring at me, incredulity colouring her features.
“That’s—” She starts but stops. “That’s—”
“What?” I say, annoyed.
“Beautiful,” she says and I feel my face warm.
“Thank you,” I say, quietly. She hands the ring box back to me.
“Do you know when you’re going to ask him?” She asks as we start to head towards the door.
“My birthday, I think.”
“Your birthday?” She asks, one eyebrow raised. (She got that from me.)
“I don’t see why not,” I say. “That’s also the only conceivable way I can get Simon into a suit without arousing suspicion.”
Penny pulls open the door and freezes.
“Penny?” I hear Simon say.
I put on my very best nonchalant expression before sliding my hand into my pocket and appearing at Bunce's side with a casual, “Evening.”
SIMON
“What were you two up to in here?” I say, shutting the door to the study behind me.
“Nothing,” he’s lying. “What were you and Shepard doing upstairs?”
“Nothing,” I lie back.
“Well, now that we’ve established that neither of us were doing anything, shall we head back down?” Baz moves towards the door but I take a step in front of him, blocking the exit.
“Not so fast,” I say, placing a hand on his chest. My eyes settle on his mouth as he curves his lips into a wicked smile.
His eyes flash silver as he pins my wrist to the door.
“Let’s make this quick, shall we?” he says, low in my ear. "And mind the suit."
❄️❤️🔥
“Night,” Penny says, hugging me goodbye. “Happy Christmas Eve!”
Is it? I check the clock and see it’s past midnight. It’s officially Christmas Eve.
“Happy Christmas Eve!” I call back as Shepard waves goodbye.
I shut and lock the door, then sidle up to Baz and wrap my arms around his waist.
“How long do you think it will take the cats to realise everyone’s gone?” Baz says into my shoulder.
“Until breakfast, probably,” I reply.
He makes a noise like, “hmph.”
“Happy Anniversary,” I say into Baz’s hair.
He lifts his head to look at me, his gaze even more sultry than usual even though I can tell he’s trying to give me a flat look.
“I still can’t believe you count the first day we had sex as our anniversary,” he says.
I shrug. “It was memorable.”
He leans in slowly to kiss me.
“I suppose it was,” he says against my mouth.
“You suppose?” I say, pulling back. "Also, it's not like you remember the date of our first date," I remind him.
"I do remember the date of our first date, it was the first of November. But it wasn't really a date, was it?" He teases. We've had this conversation before. We've also gone back to Lina Stores in our same outfits to do the date over again with a proper kiss at the end. (A lot of kissing, actually.)
"Suppose we'll just have to get married on Christmas Eve or summat so it can be our official anniversary, then." I say it teasingly. Lightly. Trying my best to sound as nonchalant as Baz can. Just floating the idea. (I've floated it before. It always floats.)
"Are you asking me to marry you, Simon Snow?" The tone of Baz's voice is different. Inscrutable.
"I—no!" I say, too quickly and too loudly. Not like this! I think, but my brain has launched itself into overdrive as Baz pulls away from me, eyebrow raised.
"No?" He repeats.
"No! Not no! Not—sorry! Yes—No! Not no—not—sorry—yes—not—fuck—not—" I scrub at my face with my hands as Baz takes a step back from me. I press my palms against my eye sockets and breathe deeply.
I start again. Or I try to. What comes out is, "I want to—fuck—I had—I wanted to do something more—I—" I open my eyes and, for a moment, I think Baz left because he's not standing in front of me anymore.
But it's because he's kneeling.
In our front hall.
Holding out a tiny blue box.
In his dazzling suit.
I think my heart may have stopped. I think time may have stopped. It feels like the house is holding its breath alongside me as I look down at Baz.
I can tell he's nervous. From the way his brows tick up in the center to the set of his shoulders and the flinty look in his grey eyes. But his voice is steady as he says, "Will you—"
"Yes!" I blurt, then cover my hands with my mouth.
"I haven't asked you anything yet," Baz says. Laughing incredulously.
"Sorry," my voice is muffled from where I'm still covering my mouth but Baz is smiling now. His grey eyes gleaming.
He lifts his chin confidently as he says, "Simon. My love. My nightmare. My perfect match. I've said it before but I'll repeat it again now. You are my sun. The center of my universe. And there's no one in this world or any other that I would rather spend the rest of my life with. Will you marry me?"
My vision starts to blur as I nod and manage a choked out, "yes." And I can barely make out the ring through my tears as Baz puts it on my finger.
He stands and I pull him flush against me.
"Yes." I say between kisses. "Yes. Yes. Yes. I love you. I love you. I love you."
TWENTY FOUR YEARS LATER
“Happy Christmas Eve, darling.”
“Happy Anniversary, love.”
❄️❤️🔥