Chapter Text
SIMON
I don't know if today is really my birthday, or if the state people just guessed. It's never really meant anything to me. It's not special. It might have been, if I could have celebrated it at Watford with everyone, but I’m always in care in the summers.
It's June 21st. I'm 18. And I'm giving myself my first real birthday present.
I sign myself out of care. I have no idea what I think I’m going to do when I get there, but at least I know where I’m going.
I take a bus, then a train, then a cab, then I finally walk the last few miles from the road to the front door. It's a nice day for it, or would be, if my magic wasn’t boiling under my skin.
When I knock on the front door of Pitch Manor, I think I’m going to blow it down like a fairytale wolf. I’m so nervous, I can feel a bubbling at the back of my throat that’s probably magic. Or maybe just vomit.
Anyone but his dad, anyone but his dad, I pray to no one in particular.
When Vera finally answers, I’m so overcome with relief I blurt out, “Oh, thank magic,” before I remember that Vera is a Normal.
She’s looking up at me with concern, and doesn’t invite me in. Instead, she comes out onto the porch and shuts the heavy door quickly behind her.
“Master Snow, Basilton isn't here.”
My heart plummets down through the wood slats under my feet. “Where is he?”
“Please, wait here," she says. "I'll drive you back to the station. Give me just a moment.”
I don’t know what she’s going to do, ask for the afternoon off? I don’t want to get her into trouble. Why is she being so nice to me? (Did Baz tell her about me? About us?)
Vera looks like a TV grandma: a soft, wrinkled face, greying auburn hair pulled back in a bun, and chubby arms for hugging. She's not wearing a uniform today like a TV maid, unlike when I saw her at Christmas. She drives me back to the train station and helps me buy the right ticket. She writes the instructions out for me in neat little handwriting on the back of an envelope, and repeats it to me at least three times. She makes me say it back to her.
"Turn right past the stone bridge. I've got it. I promise."
Her eyes are watery, but she’s smiling.
“Why are you doing all this for me?” I ask.
She tilts her chin into her neck. “I’m doing this for Basilton.”
“Will you call ahead?” The idea makes my stomach start turning all over again.
Vera tips her head conspiratorially. “I think he will like the surprise. Tell him to call home when you make it to the cabin. I want to know you made it safe.”
* * *
This isn't a cabin. It's bigger than some of the homes I've lived in. And not at all rustic. It's seems to be made of as much glass as wood. The late afternoon sun is pouring softly through the trees, and I can see a lake glistening in the distance. It's so quiet.
I had the cabbie drop me down the road a bit to give me a few minutes alone to psych myself up for this. I’m now completely out of cash, so if this doesn't go well, I'll have nowhere else to go. I haven't seen another house for ages. I've never been anywhere like this. It feels... secluded, and wild. And safe.
I knock on the front door, less nervous this time. No magic caught in my throat. When it finally opens, Baz is on the other side.
Baz.
BAZ
Simon.
Just standing there, with a bag over his shoulder, like he’s here for a sleepover. Or here to stay. What the hell is he doing here at all? How did he find me? Why did he leave care? I don't know what to ask first.
"You cut your hair," he says.
I reach up with one hand and try to smooth it back. I can see Snow feels awkward; he's tugging at the strap of his bag nervously, twisting it. He doesn't know what to say either. I grab his hand and pull him inside. He drops his bag on the rug and I close the door. Without a word, I lead him up the stairs and into my room. The light is dimmer here, and somehow that makes it easier to look at him.
I don't feel so much like I'm staring down the sun.
I'm facing him, his fingers locked tight in mine. (I'm never letting him go again.) He's just looking at me, like he's a question and I'm the answer. His shirt is too baggy. I want to kiss where the collar pulls away from his neck. But I want to keep staring at him, too. I want to understand that he is real. But this doesn't feel real. Because it can't be. Because it's exactly what I want.
I might've wished him here, but I don’t have that much power. But Simon does.
SIMON
I missed him. I missed him so much it physically hurt. And now he's here and I don't know what to do. Do I tell him I've missed him? Or just kiss him? Do I tell him why I came? Why did I come? What was I thinking?
He puts his hand on my face and pulls me close, so our foreheads bump together. I touch his hand. Yes. I think. Baz knows what to do. He always knows what to do.
He kisses me above my left eye, and then on my right cheek. Then, he presses his lips firmly against my neck. When he kisses me just above my collar bone, where my shirt gaps, I realize he's kissing each one of my moles. This could take all night, I think. And I hope it does.
BAZ
"Please... please..." Simon keeps whispering it over and over. I don't know what he wants, so I just keep kissing him. "Please... let me have this."
Then I realize he's not talking to me. He's asking the universe, or God, or whatever, not to take this away. I hold him tighter, his warm chest flush against mine.
I can give him this. I can't give him everything, not everything he deserves. But I can give him this.
SIMON
Baz is lazily tracing my ribs with his fingertips.
“What are you doing?” I ask quietly. His arm is around me, and my mouth just next to his ear. Super hearing.
He licks his lips and swallows before answering. “Thinking about how thin you’ve got.”
“It’s alright.” I try to look unimpressed so he doesn’t worry. I’ve been through worse. “I’ll gain it all back.”
“Like that’s healthy. Dropping and gaining ten kilos in a month.”
I shrug and close my eyes. “It’s just my life.”
“Not anymore.” And he says it like it’s a promise. He turns his head so his lips brush my forehead. Inhaling deeply, he asks, “Why did you come?”
BAZ
“To be with you.” Snow makes it sound like it's obvious. My insides turn liquid. I try to kiss his forehead, but he tilts his head back at the same time and I knock my chin into his nose. He exhales an awkward laugh and kisses me on the mouth.
When we break away he asks, “Why are you here?”
“I'm working.”
“On what?”
“For Ani. Closer to her and closer to London here. More comfortable than Fiona’s couch.”
“You work for Ani? Doing what?” His incredulity is only a little insulting.
“Whatever she needs. I’m the face of her business. I meet with investors.”
“You have investors?”
I toss my head. “Yes, Crowley. We’re really good at this. Is it that surprising?”
I look back at his face and he looks… impressed. I feel my shoulders relax a little.
“Does the business have a name?” he asks.
“Lang-Pitch LLC.”
“It’s got your name in it?” Snow's eyebrows furrow.
“It had to. They think I’m part owner. Who’s going to meet with a fifteen year old girl in a board room?”
“But.. it’s hers. It should just be Lang. Or maybe Lang-Bunce.”
“Trust me, little Lang doesn't want any part of what I do.”
“So you get paid?” he asks wonderingly.
I answer him by pulling open the nightstand drawer and pulling out my billfold. There are six checks: thirty thousand pounds total. I hand them over. Snow’s face contorts with disbelief.
“Are these real?”
I start to answer and he slaps my face with the checks.
“Don’t— faff about with the money.”
He does it again. I take the checks from him and try to give him a withering look, but I can’t quite keep the smile off my face.
“Sorry." He's grinning. Not sorry at all. "I just knew I'd never get the chance to do that again. How much of that is yours?”
“I make about a pound an hour. Plus expenses,” I say matter-of-factly.
“So little?”
I put the checks away and breathe out a sigh. “Well, I obviously don't need it. And I've been working something like sixty-hour weeks trying to track down customers. And expenses, the petrol alone is ridiculous... So divided out between travel time and hunting and meeting with investors, it's not much. But most businesses don't make enough to survive their first year, so I’d rather the money go back into the business for the time being. Ani isn't paying herself at all.”
Snow leans up on an elbow, fascinated for some reason. “How does it all work, then? Do people buy the harnesses? And if they can't afford it? You just let them go on biting people?"
I raise an eyebrow. “Is this why you're here? To discuss our business model?”
“I told you. I'm here to see you.” I wish he’d stop being so bloody sincere. It’s giving me palpitations.
“Why? Why today?”
The faintest hint of surprise flickers over his face before he answers. “It's my birthday.”
Oh.
“Happy birthday, Simon,” I offer in a low voice. His blue eyes go soft and his smile is so warm I feel my cheeks go hot. I tilt my head and run my hand over his shorn hair.
"So... your family isn't here then?" he asks.
"No. It's just us." I catch myself licking my lips unconsciously.
"How long can I stay?" Snow's eyes fall to my mouth.
"What do you mean? Forever.” I didn't mean to use that word. "I mean, as long as you like. What had you planned to do? Come see me and go right back into care?"
"I hadn't thought that far ahead."
I purse my lips and shake my head. Clearly Bunce does all the planning. "Snow—"
"I guess I got as far as 'find Baz' and didn't really worry about the rest."
I can’t be angry at him for that. He's close enough to rub his nose against mine. He does. "Is anyone going to be looking for you?"
"No. I left legally. I don't think they'll mind much if I don't keep in touch." He's caressing his warm cheek against mine.
I suck in a breath. "And the Mage?"
Simon pulls back a little. Looks me in the eyes. His gaze is so intense, so intimate, he may as well have his tongue down my throat already. "No one's going to look for me here. Not in my enemy's house."
This makes me smirk, and the smirk turns into a laugh, but he cuts it off with a kiss. And for a while my only thoughts are of his warm breath in my mouth.
The sun is going down. "Are you hungry?"
Snow's face lights up. "Starving."
SIMON
Baz wanted to take me somewhere nice for my birthday, but I told him no. (He doesn't know I only have two pairs of trackie bottoms and the rapidly-wearing-out jeans I currently have on.) It's getting late anyway. So he orders us in some pizzas instead.
He pulls up Weekend on the largest flat screen I've ever seen. I asked him to. I wanted something good, but something we don't have to pay attention to. Because it's been over three weeks since I've seen him, heard his voice, anything, and I'm not done soaking him in yet.
His hair is cut to just brush below his ears now. (I quite liked it long.) I suppose this is more the look of a proper professional, though. He likes mine short I think. He kept running his hands over the shaved softness of it. (I'm not complaining. I like his hands on me, even when it's just his hand on my leg when he reaches over me for the remote.)
Right now, his hand is over his mouth while he eats.
"You don't have to do that, you know. I've seen your fangs. Loads."
He doesn't move his hand. "When?"
"Seriously? Just— all the time. Just eat like a normal person. It's not as noticeable as you think."
Baz knits his eyebrows but lowers his hand.
By the end of the movie, Baz is leaned back into the cushions and I've curled up on my side with my head in his lap. He's got one hand on my hip and the other absentmindedly stroking my hair again.
The movie's gone quiet for the moment, so I ask, "Did you miss me then?"
"No, Snow. I only looked for you over half the countryside," he answers sarcastically.
I look up at him but his eyes are fixed on the screen. His skin glows blue in the little light there is."You did not."
"I've been all over the country tracking down werewolves. I even went to Cardiff last Tuesday. Kept hoping I'd find you instead." He takes a deep breath and his legs shift slightly beneath me. "Every time I saw a bronze mess of curls my heart stopped. Should have known you'd buzzed it short, you git."
He looks down at me now, and there's a smile playing at one corner of his mouth. I close my eyes (I'm so tired) and try to picture Baz looking for me in London, Blackpool, Gloucester...
"Good thing I found you, then."
"How did you?"
"Vera. Oh, Merlin. You we're supposed to call her!" I yawn.
"I'll call in the morning."
BAZ
Snow falls asleep in my lap.
I whisper, "I love you," and when he doesn't respond I know he's out cold.
The movie is stuck on the menu screen, but I can't reach the remote to shut it off. Simon's so warm, I must fall asleep, too, because the next thing I know, there's sunlight creeping past the shades and keys jingling at the front door.