Archive of Our Own ^beta

BAZ

I watch Simon get in Fiona’s car. He drives off and my heart already feels heavy. Call me a sap, but I miss him already and he’s not even out of our driveway. (The one to the hunting lodge is longer than the one in Hampshire, which is saying something since our Hampshire house had a huge driveway.)

There’s another reason I insist on watching Simon drive away.

I kissed him in front of my parents.

I don’t regret it, but Merlin, I wonder what will happen now. We’ve been politely un-homosexual during the entire day and now I ruined it at the very end. (Un-homosexual is a word Simon would use. He has that effect on me.)

It’s time to face the music. I compose myself and turn back to the house. As expected, it’s clear that my parents aren’t all too pleased about it. My father has a frown on his face and Daphne has the same anxious look that she had at Fortum’s when she invited Simon over.

Luckily, all three of us are saved from acknowledging my queerness when Sophie appears between my parents.

“Is Simon gone?” she asks.

“Yes, dear,” I walk back to the porch. The moment I’m in reach, Sophie raises her arms. She wants me to pick her up and even though she’s getting too big, I cannot refuse her.

Besides, I am still very much a vampire. I could probably carry Mordelia if she wanted me to.

I hoist Sophie up and the two of us walk back inside. My parents step aside and I feel tense when I pass them. It’s as if my father is exuding his disappointment and that is exactly what I meant when I told Simon I didn’t like that I feel closeted.

My father closes the door and the four of us walk back to the living room and Sophie is talking my ears off, but I can’t concentrate. I hate that I feel bad for kissing the love of my life goodbye. I shouldn’t feel bad for that. I don’t regret it, really, but my father gives off the feeling that I should.

Yes, Simon could come along.

Yes, we had a great time all things considered.

No, we will not acknowledge why Simon is here in the first place.

At least, that’s what I thought, because Sophie keeps talking about Simon and how she’s sad that he left, because she likes his wings and she likes that he gave her gifts, and when I remind Sophie that Simon had to celebrate Christmas with his grandmother, Sophie is confused.

“Why didn’t you go with him?” she asks.

“Because Christmas is family time and I love you,” I answer.

Mordelia hears it through her headphones and she rolls her eyes. She’s such an angsty teen. Petra, on the other hand, beams when she hears it.

Sophie also nods as if I said something extremely profound.

“Yes, but you also love Simon,” she says with a frown.

“… I do,” I say cautiously.

“And since he’s your boyfriend, shouldn’t you go to his family too?”

The entire room goes silent. Mordelia even takes off her headphones. Petra and Swithin seem unbothered by what just happened, but I can hear that my father has stopped in his tracks. If turning back to see his reaction to me kissing Simon was nerve wracking, me turning back to see his reaction to Sophie calling Simon my boyfriend is torture.

I don’t reply and I put Sophie down on the lavish sofa, next to Petra. Then I sit down on her other side. I purposefully don’t look to my father.

“Well, yes, I do love him very much,” I say and I hate how the guilt weighs heavily. I hate that I know this guilt is wrong. I hate that I feel guilty in the first place while knowing that shouldn’t have to feel like this, but I still do. “But the same way I love you as my family, he also has a family he loves, and we decided that it is fine that we are apart for a little while.”

Once again, Sophie nods as if I told her the secret of the universe.

“I get that. Mum was gone for a long time too.”

I hear Daphne cough awkwardly and I glance over her. She’s poured herself a drink and it looks like she’s choked on it. (Well, she’s the one drinking in the morning.) (Is this because of this conversation?) (Although I don’t think it’s alcoholic.). I am still not ready to look at my father.

Well, mum joined a cult and that is a different situation, I think, but sure.

“Yes, true,” I say awkwardly.

Petra also hums in agreement.

“And you and Simon live together, right?” Petra adds fuel to this fire by saying that. Now I hear my father choke on his drink. “So you will see him a lot!”

“I will,” I say, still a bit cautious.

How do the twins know all of this?

I thought that my relationship was a big taboo in the house. Even Mordelia clearly knows this, because she’s watching this entire conversation unfold with a shocked look on her face. She keeps glancing towards our parents out of the corner of her eyes.

So it’s clear that my parents made it very aware to her that she can’t talk about it.

Which… well, which makes me seethe. I am not surprised, but the disappointment is still heavy.

But the twins have clearly missed the memo.

Of course it cannot last.

“That’s enough of that,” my father says sternly and I finally look at him. He’s gripping the base his glass and I’m surprised it hasn’t snapped in half yet. He looks extremely tense and uncomfortable and Daphne looks anxious again.

“But daddy-”

“Sophronia,” Daphne says with a clipped voice, “It’s Christmas.”

So what? I want to yell, but I have learnt to bite my tongue and hide my displeasure all my life, so I know what to do. It’s clear what she means. It’s not a great idea to talk about it, because it will make Malcolm Grimm unhappy and that will spoil Christmas.

Great.

“Makes sense,” Petra says, and all the hope that has been quietly building in my chest gets crushed in an instant.

Sophie hums in agreement.

Well, fuck.

“Yes, this Christmas, Simon needs to go home,” she says, “But maybe next year we can all have Christmas together!”

“… As in?” Mordelia prompts carefully.

“Our family and Simon’s family!” Sophie exclaims happily.

“Oh, yay!” Petra claps her hands happily, “Yes, because Simon and Baz are in love and people who are in love do that!”

“Girls, we agreed that it’s Christmas,” my father butts in.

Petra nods.

“Okay, we cannot talk about Simon being here because he is Baz’s boyfriend for this Christmas,” Petra says, “But daddy, we’re talking about next Christmas!”

She says it with an ‘isn’t it obvious?’ voice. She’s this close to dramatically rolling her eyes. It’s a family trait, one that Mordelia and I have perfected.

I have to hide a smile. Petra is right in a way. Even Mordelia cannot hide her amusement. Up until now she looked torn whether or not she should side with me or with our parents, but I think Petra is winning her over.

“Next Christmas! Yay, big Christmas with family! Oh, Baz,” Sophie’s eyes go wide with a sudden realisation, “If you two live together, and are in love, and celebrate Christmas together, does that mean you are getting married soon? Then we’re all family!”

My father, bless his stupid heart, breaks the glass.

“I can fix it for you, father,” I say with a pointed tone in my voice. I take out my wand and cast a quick I can fix it for you, Sonny. The spell is extra strong since it matches what I said before I cast it.

“Thanks Basilton,” he says shortly.

“You’re welcome.”

The two of us stare at each other and in that moment, I come to an epiphany.

My father has no power over the situation.

He might’ve been able to make Mordelia cautious about any mention of queerness, but the twins don’t see anything wrong with it. Kids are often more open-minded than adults, because they haven’t been taught hatred yet. I was too late with Mordelia, but I realise I can change it for my youngest siblings. I can show them - and I suppose also myself - that my love for Simon has a place in the world. (Simon would say the twins are like free real estate.)

I owe it to them to show them the way.

I owe it to my past self.

Fuck, I even owe it to my current self. I belong here.

And I realise this can go both ways. My father is clearly silently communicating to me to stop this, since he realises that he and Daphne aren’t able to do so, and yes I can do that and I can shove myself back to this closet.

Or I can no longer give a fuck.

And make my father super uncomfortable.

At Christmas.

Now, I’d like to believe I am a good man. I’ve reflected a lot on my past behaviour and there are things that I definitely regret, but I think I’ve grown. I am a reasonable and nice person.

But if there’s one flaw that I cannot let go of, it’s spitefulness.

Is it terrible of me to give my father the worst Christmas of his life? Yes, certainly. Am I excited to give him a taste of his own medicine, because I had to be the one to cower in discomfort all these past Christmases? Yes, totally.

So I give him a big smile and turn back to my adoring sisters.

“I am not getting married to him,” I say, “… yet.”

The twins gasp.

“Will you, Bazzy?” Petra sits up and her face is in awe. Petra loves weddings. She always makes her dolls get (heterosexually) married. “Will you?”

I laugh.

“That is also up to him, my dear,” I say.

“Does that make Simon a brother?” Sophie pouts, “I have enough brothers! You can’t marry him anymore. Swithin is enough!”

At that moment, Swithin giggles. He isn’t listening at all, he’s just playing with his toys underneath the opulent Christmas tree, but it is still fitting.

“It makes him our brother-in-law, Sophie!”

The three of us turn to Mordelia. She gives me a small smile. I see her glance towards our parents but I use one shoulder to shrug.

An understanding passes us. If I no longer have to care, then why should she?

“Brothers-in-law aren’t the same as brothers,” Mordelia continues her explanation with a bored tone, as if that silent conversation between us didn’t happen, “We’d be Simon’s sisters-in-law. Does that mean I get to bully Simon?”

“Nooooo!” the twins cry out.

“Girls-” poor Daphne makes another attempt, but it is futile.

My sisters talk about Simon and I sit back and I enjoy the show. I quickly look at my father again. He’s staring at his repaired glass and the discomfort is obvious, but at least he’s shutting up. Even Daphne looks exasperated and defeated.

I don’t think it’s bad of me to enjoy it. The schadenfreude is big.

The rest of the day, I talk about Simon. He’s arrived at his grandma and I am bombarded with photos of the many cakes that Lady Salisbury has baked. I show them to my siblings and they all oooh and aaaah at the sight of it.

“Tell Simon…”

“What is Simon doing now?”

“Send Simon a photo of…”

My siblings not only know that he is my boyfriend, but they also actively want to know more of him, since they understand it’s important to me.

It’s all so… normal. So nice. I am not used to being able to talk about Simon as my partner in my parents’ house. Heck, even Swithin has taken interest in Simon. I showed my siblings a photo with Simon with his wings on full display and now Swithin keeps reminding everyone that he wants the bird to come back.

Of course I told Simon, because I can do that. He finds it adorable.

“if ur parents are fine with it I can take the kids out for a flight” he texted me, which doesn’t sound like a great idea, but it’s still sweet of him to suggest it.

I feel great.

This is how it’s always supposed to be.

Sophie is even trying to convince Daphne to take her on a visit to the Hackney Wick flat. (Poor Daphne will have a heart attack when she sees the pink sofa.) (Not necessarily because of the gay thing, but the pink is so bright that it doesn’t fit with the rest of the interior at all.) (And okay, also because of the gay thing.)

We have Christmas dinner and my fangs don’t pop out, but that’s partly because I am not focusing on my fangs in the first place. Instead I am answering Mordelia’s questions about living in London.

I haven’t felt this at ease in front of my family in ages.

Which, okay, it does make me a bit sad. It’s weird to think I could’ve had this all my life. My siblings are showing me that it is possible and I do not know what to do with the quiet anger that builds up every time I think of that.

Shit, maybe I need therapy after all.

After dinner, I help Daphne with washing up and the moment the two of us are alone, I brace myself for a lecture, but it doesn’t come. I suppose Daphne is still not talking about it. She doesn’t talk at all, even. She looks deep in thought, as if she’s contemplating something and I really hope she isn’t considering joining another cult.

Are we really not going to acknowledge what happened?

I was wrong, because after the washing up I pass my father in our lavish hallway and he stops me.

“Basilton,” he says.

“Father,” I reply calmly.

“We need to talk.”

“I think we do,” I say, “Talk, then.”

My father’s face is rigid and again and I revel in his discomfort. Yes, father. Talk. Say out loud what has been happening under your roof. Confirm why you look like you’re considering offing yourself.

“You’re setting a bad example for your siblings,” he says instead.

“Why?” I challenge him.

He really, really doesn’t want to say it, does he?

“You know why,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I genuinely don’t,” I say, and I’m not even playing dumb. I genuinely don’t see anything wrong with my siblings and I talking about my partner. The twins were right. When Simon and I get married, we will all be family. “I am having a lovely time, father. Now, if you excuse me-”

He puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me again.

“Basilton,” he repeats.

“Father,” I match his serious tone in mock.

“You’re being immature, Basilton,” he says and I straighten my posture, “I invite Simon to this Christmas for you, and this is how you repay me?”

My head jerks towards him.

Did he really just say that?

“You invite Simon to this house under false pretences,” I say, trying not to show how angry I am, “You refuse to acknowledge that we are together. You try to ban my siblings from talking about it. You made me sleep on the sofa, instead of in the arms of the love of my life. You act as if me kissing him is a crime, and I am supposed to be grateful for all of that?”

“Bas-”

“You lost, father,” I cut him off, “Face it, you lost.”

My father turns red.

“You may have succeeded shutting up Daphne-” Although I unfortunately believe that Daphne harbours some of the same opinions “-and Mordelia. You created a sense of fear around the topic, but you lost. It’s too late. Unlike you, the twins don’t see anything wrong with what is happening and Swithin likes Simon too.”

“I am just trying to protect-”

“From what?” I press harder, “Who benefits from this? You can pretend that queerness doesn’t exist. You can talk around it in front of my siblings, but again, it is too late. Even if you make it certain that queerness will never be discussed under your roof, because it upsets you, my siblings will find an entire world out here. They will meet queer people, even of their own age. They will see queer people on the telly. They will read books with characters that have two dads or two mums, or parents of any gender identity. The twins can clearly clock that Simon and I are together, and I know it's not because you or mum told them so.”

My father looks around us, but no one is listening. Daphne and Mordelia are in the kitchen. The twins and Swithin are loudly playing with their new toys in the living room. It’s messed up that no one can hear this. It’s messed up that the moment he stepped inside the room yesterday, it went silent and everyone got uncomfortable and potentially scared.

If he has a problem, he should at least have the balls to say it out loud.

Still, my father lowers his voice.

“I am just trying my best here.”

I snort.

“Try harder,” I say coldly.

He looks pinched.

“Basilton, I am trying to protect you, not the twins,” he says and I know I said that dramatic eye rolls are the family trait, but I try not do to it, “Yes, the twins as well, but you too. You know I care about you. I want you to be happy and this thing will only come back to hurt you. I love you too much to let that happen, or to let a similar thing happen to the other kids.”

I know.

That makes everything worse.

If he didn’t love me, and if I didn’t love him back, then we wouldn’t be having this agonising conversation. Then we’d be no one to each other. But as I said to Petra, I come back for Christmas every damn year, despite knowing that I will be uncomfortable, because I love my family.

It would’ve been so much more easier if I could just cut him out of my life and be at peace with that, but that is not the truth.

I take a deep breath and I compose myself. I can’t afford to lose myself now. After years of pretending that it doesn’t exist, we’re finally talking about it. I am finally saying what’s been on my mind for years.

“I love you too, but you’re not helping anyone here,” I say calmly, “Wanting me to be happy is not an excuse to treat me and Simon the way you do, or to make everyone afraid of mentioning it.”

“If only you could just stop this,” my father sounds genuinely desperate, “I heard that Phillipa Stainton has rejoined the World of Mages. Now, she is not the most powerful, but her family-”

“There are a lot of reasons that this is a bad idea,” I cut him off. I can’t believe that he is still trying to set me up with a woman. Pippa Stainton of all women. “The main one being that I am gay.”

My father has a pained look on his face. I did it. I dropped the g-word.

“Basilton-”

“No matter how justified you feel with your intentions, it is still wrong,” I say back, “Do you think that I am not aware of the possible obstacles that being gay can create? I am very aware. Simon and I cannot hold hands without eliciting some kind of response. I know that, father, and yet I still choose to hold his hand because I love him.”

“But you can choose not to.”

“I can. But I won’t. Because I can choose how to act, but I cannot choose who I am,” I exclaim, “And no matter how much you try to deny it in this house, it doesn’t change the fact that I cannot control that I love men. One man in particular. You, on the other hand, can change your attitude and you refuse to, so don’t talk to me about not changing my ways of life, since you don’t even want to try to change.”

I just loaded all of that on him. All the pain and anger that I have pushed down for years just exploded out of me. I am surprised that I haven’t blown up in his face. (I suppose suppressing your emotions is good for this, at least. I can’t lose by being too emotional.)

“I am not a bad person. You still have a place in this house!” my father says, but he sounds different. Unsure. “Other people would’ve kicked you out.”

I let out a shallow laugh.

“I still have a place in this house, as long as I pretend to be someone I’m not, so my place in this house has been conditional all this time. And I love this family, but the twins were right. I also have Simon’s family now. They’ve only known me for half a year and they’ve showed me more acceptance in those six months than that you have in a decade. And since I am not leaving Simon, and you are presenting me with a choice, I might willingly loose my place in this house.”

The moment I said it, I realise a part of me still wants to take it back.

I want a place in this house.

I want to be with my family.

But another part of me realises there’s also some truth in those words. If he can’t change, it will be me who has to do the work, and I don’t think I can do that, especially now that the Salisbury’s have showed me that I don’t have to.

I hate this feeling of being semi-closeted.

I hate the conflicted feelings that it brings.

“Basilton-”

I hold up my hand.

“The Salisbury family is accepting. So are Mordelia and the twins. Again, you lost, father.”

I wait for him to say something back, but he doesn’t.

I look over his shoulder and I see Mordelia and Daphne standing there and I wonder how much they’ve heard. Based on Mordelia’s face, they certainly heard the end of my dramatic spiel.

“Bazzy!” we all hear.

Petra is running towards me with a sheet of paper.

“Look what I made!”

It’s a drawing of Simon’s wings.

I shoot my father a knowing look before turning my back to him. Petra leads me back to the living room and she talks about how she wishes she could fly.

My father drives me to the train station.

This is another chance for him.

After yesterday’s actions, we’ve been avoiding each other as much as possible, but Daphne isn’t comfortable driving and there are no busses that reach the hunting lodge, so now we’re stuck together in this awkward silence. I am on my phone, texting Simon my train information.

When we arrive, I wait for him.

“Have a nice trip,” he says.

“Alright.”

Alright.

I open the door to the car to get out, but he stops me again.

“Come back soon, will you?” he says, “With Simon, if you want to.”

“We’ll see.”

“Simon, your friend.”

“My friend, yes,” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It’s an olive branch, I know that, but it is a rotten one. It is so fragile that it might snap the moment I take it.

“And maybe Petra was right,” he continues, “Maybe we can visit you and Simon in London. Where you live together. And have Christmas with the Salisbury’s, if they want that.”

I look over my shoulder. Now this is something. My father is still looking like he’d rather die than say those words, but it’s more than before.

“As a family,” I say.

“As a family,” he confirms, “Have a safe trip.”

Simon greets me at the train station. He’s come all the way to King’s Cross, although that wasn’t that hard since he stayed the night in Mayfair.

But now we’re taking the tube back to Hackney Wick. Home. Our home. We hold hands on the train and I don’t care if it bothers others.

Once we’ve arrived and we put away our stuff, I send a message to my family to tell them I’m home.

Simon comes in with tea and he talks my ears off about his Christmas with his grandmother and uncle. We sit on our pink sofa and I have a smile on my face. It makes me happy how Simon is bonding with his family. It’s still new, and Simon still calls them Lady Salisbury and Jamie out of habit, but it’s nice and he clearly likes them.

“They asked if you wanted to come over, but I kind of want a day with the two of us,” he says.

“Great minds think alike,” I say with a grin, “Besides, we can visit her soon.”

“Hm, yeah,” he says. He puts his cup on the table and he leans against me. “How was your Christmas? I loved the photo’s of your siblings’ drawings.”

“I told them you appreciate it.”

“Glad they like me.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “Yeah, they do.”

Simon looks up when he hears the woeful tone.

“What is it, babe?”

“My parents don’t like you. I think.”

Simon frowns.

“I thought they warmed up to me after dinner? Your father certainly was less annoyed by my existence.”

“Yes, but that was before I kissed you goodbye in front of them and reminded them that we are as queer as a three dollar bill.”

“Oh.”

I let out another sigh before I tell Simon everything that has happened the past day. He listens attentively and he rubs my arm when I become more agitated when recounting what my father said to me.

But I also tell him that my father brought up the idea of visiting.

I drag my hand across my face.

“I don’t know what this means,” I say, “He still can’t accept it. He can’t even say it. But he does acknowledge that we live together. It’s as if we’re back to square one. What do I do with this?”

“Nothing,” Simon says after a beat of silence.

I look at him through my fingers.

“Nothing,” Simon repeats, “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

That’s rich coming from him, but maybe that’s why it hits me like a ton of bricks. If Simon, the person who’s blindly followed someone for the most formative years of his life, who was constantly under the belief that he had to act a certain way or do certain things, can say that I don’t have to do anything, then maybe I really don’t have to do anything.

“Again, maybe this is a beginning. Like in all those movies and TV shows. Things might get better, but I suppose it is up to your parents,” he says, “You did what you could do. I’m proud of you.”

And honestly, yeah, I am proud of myself as well.

I shouldn’t have to defend myself in the first place, but I did something great. It took my twin sisters’ open adoration for Simon to show me I could do it, and I did it.

“So, what now?”

Simon smiles.

“Now, we have a very nice Extra Christmas, just the two of us, where we can be as gay as we want to be!” he says and he kisses me.

A year later

“This is a mistake.”

I’m tying my tie, but I can see Simon looking at me in the reflection of our mirror. I raise an eyebrow. He pouts.

“Why is this a mistake, love?” I ask him as I finish up.

“There are so many reasons for this to be a mistake!” Simon says frantically and I agree, but it is happening. He almost puts a hand in his hair out of frustration, but then he remembers that he’s styled it. “We should never have agreed to this! Our place is the smallest!”

It is.

It’s going to be hard fitting both our families in our small Hackney Wick flat. Penny came over to help with the preparations, so we magicked most of our furniture to the side and Penny then spelled our dining table bigger. (She’s still such a fierce magician.)

Penny and Shepard won’t be there, which is maybe a good thing, because Simon is right. Even with the different interior, it’s hard to fit everyone in our flat. There’s eleven of us. Good thing Jamie didn’t invite his new girlfriend.

Fuck, I can’t believe I am willingly letting Nicodemus Petty in my home, but the whole point of this extended family Christmas is the extended family part.

“Lady Gran could fit so many people, so could your parents!” Simon says, sounding like a nervous wreck. He doesn’t even realise he said Lady Gran, which always amuses me. “Only Fiona’s flat is as shit as ours.”

“The twins want to see our place, love,” I say. I put on my suit jacket and I style my hair one more time and I think I’m done. I look stunning, if I may so, and I may. “And… my father didn’t fight the invitation. That is huge.”

It still took them a year to actually come down to London to visit me and Simon, but better late than never. Okay, we tried to do a summer meet-up, but then Lady Salisbury asked us to come along on a vacation to Italy and we couldn’t say no to that.

Simon’s shoulders slump when he remembers that.

“That’s right. Are you excited?” he asks.

The truth is that I am probably as nervous as Simon, but for different reasons. But I nod. I am okay. Things aren’t perfect. I’ve barely seen my family in the past year, mainly because my father and I didn’t know what to say.

But I did continue to talk to my sisters. Maybe the fact that this younger generation has phones has some perks. Simon and I send a lot of photo’s of our life together and in return they send silly messages about school and what not.

Merlin, Mordelia spends more time messaging Simon than messaging me. They’re bonding over shit cartoons.

It’s still my parents that are the issue here. Daphne still calls Simon my friend and I don’t talk about Simon with my father unless I have to. At least he congratulated me when Simon obtained his forklift certificate. (The twins told him.)

It’s not glamorous, but it’s a start.

“And if your father’s an ass, I’ll slice him with my sword!” Simon says excitedly and I snort.

“Sure.”

Simon wants to say something else, but he’s interrupted by our doorbell ringing. They’re early, whoever they are. Simon gives me a quick kiss before he goes to open the door.

A few seconds later I can hear Swithin yell “Bird!” and a small smile appears on my face. Swithin knows what dragons are by now, but he still insists on the bird thing.

It’s time to face the music. I check myself one last time in the mirror and I tell myself it will be fine. This is happening. My family is here at my home to celebrate Christmas with my boyfriend and his family. If only someone had told young Baz that one day this would happen.

Things aren’t perfect. The olive branch is still a bit rotten and fragile, but it’s there and I take it. And you know, if my father hasn’t fully changed his ways then that means that he’ll have a second uncomfortable Christmas in a row.

Merry Christmas to me.