Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Simon

“Do I look like I know anything about hair, Penny?” I asked, carding my knobby-knuckled hand through my messy tawny curls for emphasis.

“Of course not.” She stated dully, hands on her hips, black dry erase marker hanging between her fingers. “But, you’re my best friend, and are thus bound by the best friend honor code.”

“What honor code-“

“The Unspoken, but still intact, Best Friend Honor Code.” She muttered, looking over the list of names on the white board.

There was a list a mile long under the ‘Unable/Declined’ column, the ‘Accepted’ list was at a total of zero, and the ‘Maybe’ list held one name. My name.

“Simon, please. I’m desperate-“

“Obviously.”

“Mum’s out of town and Dad’s locked away in his office. I know it isn’t to you, but Prom is really important to me this year.”

“I know, because Micah is coming in from the States and is gonna be able to go-“

“Exactly! We’ve been dating for four years, this is my last prom, and I just want it to be…special. So please. I need you to do my hair.”

“Why me?” I whined, scratching at my Adam’s apple.

“I’ve already asked everyone else!” She whined back, pointing at the whiteboard with an accusatory dry erase marker.

I looked at her pleadingly, but she only matched my gaze ferociously behind her red-rimmed cat-eye glasses. After being my best friend for almost a decade, and my adoptive sister for three years of that, she had learned how to work me to get just what she wanted. With determination glistening in her eyes, she poked out her bottom lip, and blinked hard.

I sighed loudly, knowing defeat when I saw it. “…fine. I’ll get on YouTube after dinner and see what I can find.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” She blurted, rushing over towards me to throw her arms around my middle and squeeze me tight. “I swear on everything you’re my platonic soulmate, Simon Snow.”

“You’re welcome, Pen.” I murmured, draping my long arms around her shoulders and burying my nose in her red curls.

That night, after dinner, I wrapped my arms around Penny’s shoulder and rested my chin in her hair. “Operation Penny’s Prom Hair is a go.”

“How original.” She snorted, swatting at my arm.

I smiled. “You know I’m not good with words.”

“That’s what you’ve got me for.” She hummed, rubbing her eyes under her glasses.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m off then, if you hear cursing, everything’s okay. Probably.”

I called a goodnight to the rest of our siblings as I set my course for the staircase. There’s a chorus of ‘Night Simon!’s that follow me up the stairs and into my room.

When I had first moved in with the Bunce’s, I hadn’t done much with my room. To be fair, I hadn’t had much to fill it with. But after three years, I had slowly collected posters and photos, a few books and trinkets. And I had even repainted a year after my adoption.

Now the walls were a glowing yellow, plastered from one to the other with posters of my favorite bands and movies. Over my desk in the corner, I had hung the photos that Penny and I had taken in a photo booth two years ago. We were in various stages of laughter, going from small, photo-ready smiles to big grins that sang with happiness.

I couldn't help but smile fondly at them, before I plucked my laptop up off of the desk, which was littered with discarded trial run papers for English class. I flopped back onto my bed. Sinking easily into the many pillows – Penny had gone through an embroidery phase when we were 13 – I grabbed one to prop my head up with.

Cracking my knuckles, I let my eyes flick over the stickers that were pasted over the manufacturer’s logo, before popping it open. The screen blazed to life, cutting through the darkness of my room and illuminating my face. Penny was always getting onto me about using electronics in the darkness – especially with how bright I keep the screens – but she’d have to get over it this one time. After all, it directly benefited her tremendously.

I exit out of the document that I had been editing earlier. I’m trying to perfect my sour cherry scones recipe. Penny says it’s already perfect. But I think it’s just because she’s tired of having to taste test.

With a sigh of resignation, I pull up Google, and type in the most basic search I can think of.

Simple Prom Hairstyle Tutorials

Almost immediately, I’m bombarded with a long page of results. There are at least four that boast simplicity (but the screen caps communicate otherwise) , two that use the word beautiful like a comma, and one that didn't even look like it was a hair tutorial.

I scrolled through them once, trying to weigh my assumed ability against the screen caps.

But then I realize I have no idea what my skill level is.

Taking a deep breath, I click the first video.

-

It’s been two hours.

I’m four pages deep into Google.

I don’t think these people know the true definition of easy or simple.

Penny came in to check on me about an hour ago before she went to bed, but I shooed her away before she could get a look at my screen and realize I was trying to figure out what a French braid is and how you do one, because Crowley, all the videos don’t help one bit.

Ten minutes after that, I vetoed the French braid idea, and prayed to every deity I knew that I would never be tested on my French braiding skills.
Now, I’ve lost all hope. It’s almost eleven, and I’m getting, no I am, tired. But I love Penny with everything I’ve got, so I decide to watch one more video.

The screen cap makes it look simple enough, it’s for something called a crown braid, and it looks nice on the girl. Doesn’t seem too hard either; so I clicked it and leaned back against my embroidered feminist pillows.

Suddenly, there are two people on my screen, happily greeting me with, “Hi!”

The one on the right is a girl with hair so pale and so blond it looks bleached. But I assume it’s natural, because all the bleached hair I’ve seen either has really dark roots, or has a yellow tint to it. She has a blinding grin too, and excitement thrummed through her, lighting up her eyes.

The one on the right is…oh.

He’s got chin length ink black hair and startling gray eyes that were complimented by his charcoal v-neck. His smile is smaller than his counterpart’s; more of a smirk really, with offset teeth and sharp K9s peeking through his plump, rosy lips. His jaw is sharp enough it looks like it could cut glass, and cheekbones to match.

Penny would call him pretty (“Boys can be pretty, Simon. Gendering a set of syllables that we use to explain the attractiveness of skin stretched across bones is wholly unnecessary.”)

“I’m Agatha, and this handsome devil is my best friend-“

“Baz. Pleasure.” He said, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

What kind of name is Baz? I think begrudgingly.

“Welcome to GrimmLove, today we’re gonna do a beginning level hairstyle. It’s called the crown braid, pretty simple if you can follow along. Baz’s gonna do it on my hair, ‘cause obviously I’ve got the hair for it.”

Baz snorted, and his nose crinkled up adorably. “My hair’s so much better than yours, Ags. Only thing is you’ve got the length.” He said, pressing her hair between his fingers and affectionately tugging.

She laughed brightly, throwing her head back. “You’re just jealous, Pitch.”

He shook his head. “In your dreams, Wellbelove.”

“Alright, we’re getting off topic.” Agatha said, clapping her hands together.

“Right-o,” Baz nodded, hand reaching out of frame and coming back with a hair tie, which he rolled rolling onto his wrist.

He gathered his hair on top of his head and pulled it into a quick ponytail.

I had to pause the video, because for some reason I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. Must be the stress of how much is riding on this.

I focus on the background of the video as I tried to calm my breathing and my heart, which has for some reason started rapidly beating. The walls of the room they're in are painted stark white, with a horizontal pastel pink stripe centered in the middle. There are posters above the stripe, I think they're lacrosse players. My lacrosse theory is somewhat confirmed when I notice the lacrosse stick - do they have a formal name? - hanging on the wall to the left the posters. Medals decorate the right of the posters for all of the wall that's in the frame, but I can see snips of ribbon and medals if I squint, so I think they go farther.

Finally, I regain my breath and continue the video.

There’s a jump in the footage, and then Agatha is sitting on a plush stool in front of a vanity, and Baz is standing behind her. “I’m gonna do a few variations,” Baz explained to the camera as he grabbed a curling iron off the vanity.

“So, for this one, you curl the hair first. Makes the outcome a lot better.” He took a chunk of Agatha’s hair in his long, elegant fingers, and gracefully twirled it around the cylinder.

He repeated this motion a few more times, and each time I wondered how he hadn’t burned himself yet. Every time Penny would take the straightening iron to her hair (almost never) she would curse loudly the whole time, complaining about how she had clipped her ear, or pinched her skin.
Agatha handed Baz something small – a tiny, blue rubber band – and he swept the top layer back into a thin ponytail. His fingers are nimble as he assembles the braid, explaining each step with clarity and efficiency.

“You want to make the braid tight, and you want to braid it around their head. Don’t hold it out towards you and then try to wrap it around later, it’ll look exactly how you’re imagining it’ll look, and it’s atrocious.”

“Yeah, you’d know. May I simply say: Year Six, picture day?” Agatha grinned, her smile reflected in the vanity’s mirror.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the horrified look on his face, and I didn’t fail to notice that it looked like he pulled the braid a little tighter than necessary on the next go round.

“And now’s the tricky part,” The skin between his eyebrows creased as he swiped wispy strands of black hair out of his determined eyes.

“You want to loosen the braid, but not so much that all your hard work comes undone. But you don’t want it to look like a rope around your head either. You might want to practice this a couple times before you use it in the wild.” He laughed, it was deep and throaty, buzzing in his chest, with a twinge of poshness thrown in.

He plucked at the braid, methodically loosening it while still keeping a firm grip on the end so it didn’t unravel. He held his hand out to Agatha and she dropped a couple pins in his hand. He lodged them in his mouth as he wrapped the remaining part of the braid that hadn’t attached itself to Agatha’s head, and mumbled something through the bobby pins.

“He said that now you’re gonna secure the braid.” Agatha supplied helpfully.

“Spin.” He instructed her.

Dutifully, she picked herself up and spun around.

“Right, so now we’re gonna take some of Aggie’s bangs here,” He said, gently extracting a few thin strands of hair from the already loosened braid, and letting them frame her face.

They hung down to her collar bones, and I wasn’t entirely sure what their purpose was.

“Now we’re gonna take the curling iron,” He picked it up gently, and maneuvered it as not to burn her. “And very lightly wrap the hair around it. Don’t hold it there for long, just enough to get a slight curl to the hair.”

With expert movements, he quickly curled the hair, and let it fall back to its resting place. The video panned around Agatha’s head, making sure you could see every angle possible.

The display lurched again, and Baz and Agatha were back in their positions from the start of the video. “And that’s it. If you’re using this for a big event, i.e. Prom, a wedding, a party, anything, whoever’s doing your hair, whether it be yourself or someone else, definitely needs to test this out on you at least once before. Some hair has a harder time cooperating, some hair just doesn’t want to comply at all, and it’s just so much easier if you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Baz said, scratching at his pronounced Adam's apple, which bobbed up and down as he spoke.

“Thanks for watching! If you don't mind, click that little subscribe button down below to stay caught up with all the latest videos. Likes, shares, comments, and just about anything else are appreciated. See you lot next week!” Agatha said, and the screen went blank, before the suggested video tiles popped up.

Without dwelling on it too much, I scrolled down and pressed the small red subscribe box. I never thought I’d find myself in my current situation, and I figure anything could happen, so it doesn’t hurt to keep myself updated. The last thing I saw before powering down my computer was their subscriber count jump from twenty-nine to thirty.

Yawning loudly, I rested my laptop on top of my nightstand and rolled over, dragging a pillow with me. I didn’t even bother to take off my jeans or t-shirt, much less crawl under the covers.

My hand patted around for my phone, but I eventually extracted it from my back pocket. Quickly, I shot a text off to Penny before shutting my eyes.

From: Me

To: Bunce Cake

11:22pm

figured the hair thing out. I’ll run it by you in the morning

From: Bunce Cake

11:23pm

You are a Saint

Chapter Text

Simon

With a sharp intake of air, I bolted upright in my bed. Nightmare. I’ve had them my whole life. They used to be really bad back when I was in foster care, but after my adoption they eased off. Doctors said they were caused by the fact I got little sleep and was constantly stressed.

Well, they weren’t wrong. I was constantly stressed. About everything. And because of that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Which would cause me to crash after going too long without so much as a power nap. Plus, I’d go into a deep sleep, which made it hard to wake me up.

Now I only get them every few months or so, which I’m grateful for, of course. But I always have trouble going back to sleep afterwards. Back when we still lived at home, I'd go wake Penny up or just crawl in the bed with her, but I know she doesn't get a lot of sleep as is with all the stuff she’s juggling, so I try not to do that unless they're really bad.

I rolled over, looking blearily at the digital clock on my sturdy nightstand. It blinks 7:08 back at me. And on a Saturday none-the-less. I sigh, grab my phone from where it’s been charging the whole night, unplug it, and roll back over.

The bar at the top is alive with notifications from YouTube and Twitter. Which isn’t unusual, when you’ve got nearly a million subscribers on the former, and a little over half a million on the latter. When I made my channel, the sheer amount of daily notifications I could possibly get one day never occurred to me. But then again, I was nineteen, and didn’t think I’d be doing it for the next four or so years and practically making a living off of it too.

I pattered out the password, and slid the bar down. The top three notifications were from Twitter, but I could only see snippets of the tweets. I cleared those and vowed to check them later once I checked the notifications from the channel.

The first two were comments, the third through fifth were subscribers, and the sixth one was…a congratulations?

Congratulations on 1,000,000 subscribers, RedWingBakes!

I can’t breathe.

I physically cannot breathe.

I think I’m having heart palpitations.

Crowley. Is this what a heart attack feels like?

One million. One million.

“Penny!” I shouted excitedly, my phone locked tightly under the clasp of my fingers.

Okay, she’s just gonna have to deal with only a little bit of sleep this once.
There’s a crash, two loud thumps, and then Penny is standing in front of me. Her glasses – the same ones she’s had since we were eleven – are mightily askew on the bridge of her nose. Her hair is matted worse than usual, and sticking up in random directions. And clutched tightly in her hand is…

“Penny, why do you have a baseball bat?”

“You were up before eleven and shouting, I thought there was an intruder!"

“Oh…well there isn’t!” I smile, like this is the greatest news in the world – which I guess, not having an intruder in your home is pretty great, but I have more pressing news.

“Obviously,” She scoffed with a flick of her eyes, before she dropped the bat until it sat under her palm like a toddler-sized walking stick.

“Well, what is it then? You better have a good reason for waking me up before my alarm.” She huffed.

“So I, uh, woke up from a nightmare,”

She made a noise in the back of her throat, squinting her eyes at him behind her glasses.

“And y’know I can never go back to sleep, so I figured I’d check my phone, see what was new.”

“And?” She asked, dragging the word out, her eyes twinkling, because she probably already knows what’s going on.

“I hit a million.”

“You hit a million.” She repeated slowly.

“I hit a million.”

“YOU HIT A MILLION!” She shouted, discarding her bat and rushing forward to slam into me.

“Simon, I’m so proud of you!” She was already tearing up, I could hear it in her voice.

Which was fine, considering I was already sobbing into her shoulder.

“How’re you gonna celebrate?” She asked, her voice muffled by the fabric of my t-shirt.

“I don’t even know?” I laughed dizzily, my head swirling.

“Live stream?”

“With a collaboration?”

“Of course!” She yelled, beating my shoulder repeatedly with glee.

After thinking it over, I said, “I’ll need to go to the store.”

“I’ll clean the kitchen, then.”

“You’re the best.”

“Yeah, I know.”

* * *

I gently folded the cherries into the mixture, trying to keep a steady stream of conversation going as I did.

“So Penny and I, we were what, Pens, ten?”

“We were twelve.”

“Were we really? I thought we were like ten. Anyway, Penny and I are in her friend T’s backyard, and natural banter proceeds into a dare. Someone dares Penny and I-“ I form the dough into a ball and press it onto a slip of plastic wrap. “to climb this humungous, decades old tree. Penny, never one to back down from a bet,” I laugh shortly.

“I’m competitive, I’ll own up to it.” She snorted from her seat on a barstool beside me, as she scrolled through Twitter for another question for me to answer.

“And me, never one to be left out, agree to it.” Penny hopped down from the stool and padded over to the oven to flick it on to preheat.

Eyeballing it expertly, I press the dough out into a circle. “Knife.” Penny said, passing me a floured knife.

“Anyway, as this nerd was saying before he got distracted, we agree to climb the tree. Long, absolutely humiliating story short, we get stuck at the very top of this, Crowley, I think the tree was more like a century old.”

“They had to call the emergency services to come get us down.” Penny finished with a cackle.

“Needless to say, T’s parents were always there to supervise our get-togethers after that.” I said, looking directly into the camera for emphasis, still slicing the scones into wedges.

“Alright, next question. At mordeliarty wants to know: When did you first start baking?”

“Crowley. When I was, seven or eight, I guess? I started sneaking into the orphanage’s kitchen and making birthday desserts for the kids on their birthdays. And once the staff caught on, well…one of the women,” I smiled at the memory of her. “Every Friday night, she’d leave me a small assortment of ingredients, a recipe, and on Saturday mornings, there’d be a plate of food for her."

"When I first started baking I was terrible at it, just absolutely dreadful. I constantly burnt things, or they’d come out all wrong. And that was with highly descriptive recipes! But after a while, I got better at it, so the recipes would become less and less detailed until they were literally just the name of the dish and a bag of ingredients."

"Eventually she left, and I haven't been able to find her again. I only knew her first name, Lucille, but she told all the kids we could call her Lucy, which wasn't enough to go on. But I'll always credit her with helping me discover my passion in life, and at such a young age. She didn't have to do that for me, but she did, and I'll always be grateful to her for it." I said with a hint of wistfulness - but surprisingly, no tears.

Thinking, let alone talking about Lucy used to bring tears to my eyes. But now I can look back on our time together with nothing but admiration, and only the smallest twinge of sadness. She used to call me her rosebud boy...
I whisked the remaining eggs together, grabbed a brush from where I had set it out earlier, and brushed the scones.

"And I suspect you lot know what happens next with these," I said, holding the baking sheet up to the camera before popping them in the oven.

I brushed my hands off on the red apron that was slung around my waist, and hoisted myself up onto the counter closest to the fridge, farthest away from my baking area.

“Hey, where’s my phone?” I asked Penny, patting my apron pocket – which was embroidered with two little red dragon wings – and then my sweat pants pockets, only to come up empty.

“Here,” Penny called, tossing it to me, while still focused on her own.

I caught it easily, curling my fingers around it as not to drop it. My notification bar had been blowing up all day, so I casually scrolled through the notifications.

I pressed on one of the Twitter notifications, because maybe I was in a scone-daze, or maybe I was just a little out of it, as the handle looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

The good news is I placed it.

The bad news is that I may have kinda momentarily forgotten that I was currently live.

“Agatha Wellbelove tweeted me a congratulations on one million?!” I said, my voice raising an octave, though I don’t think it was loud enough that the video caught it.

“Seriously?” Penny laughed.

I nodded furiously, scrubbing my hands over my face and looking back at my phone, just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

“Go have your moment, I’ll take over for a minute.” She grinned, pushing me out of the room.

I could still hear her voice, considering the only thing that separated the kitchen and the living room was a bar, which she was standing behind.

“Listen up kiddos. While your lovely host has his fanboy moment, I’m gonna tell you a story.”

“Right, so you lot have probably heard of GrimmLove aka, arguably the best hair tutorial channel on this site. Simon has been following them since the beginning, like, before RedWing was even a thing. He’s a huge fan-“

“Penny!” I hissed, recovering from my stupor of admiration and mental freak-out long enough to call her out.

“Anyway, Agatha Wellbelove, co-host of said channel, just tweeted Simon. He’s having a moment, which I mean, I probably would too. But I wanna tell you guys the story of how he found the channel, because I look back on it now and realize how lucky I am to have that freckled nerd.”

“Aw, Pen.” I muttered. “That’s sweet.”

“Shut up, I’m telling a story.”

“There’s my Penny.”

“So I’ve been on this channel enough times – and so has he – that you all probably know about my long-term boyfriend Micah. Right, so we’ve been dating for like seven years currently, but in this story it had been around four years."

"It was Prom, and I couldn’t find anyone to do my hair. All the salons were booked full, Mum was out of town. Basically: I was completely out of luck. I finally broke down and asked Simon. I figured if he could braid bread dough, then he could probably toss my hair into something that looked pretty good, y’know? So he reluctantly agrees and disappears into his room for like three hours."

"It’s almost midnight when I get a text message. Simon said he’d figured out the hair situation and he’d run it by me in the morning. So the next morning, while we’re eating breakfast, he excitedly shows me this video of these two teenagers doing a pretty in depth hair tutorial. Simon’s excited, ‘cause he thinks he can follow along. I’m excited because I’m not gonna have to go to a hair appointment like an hour before the dance. So he decides to test it out on my hair after breakfast.

“I tied her hair in knots. Actual knots.” I said, reentering the frame so I could aid in the storytelling.

“I almost cried, I didn’t, but I almost did. So he untangles the knots, and tells me he’s gonna keep trying ‘til he gets it right.”

“It meant so much to you, I wasn’t gonna let you down, Pen.” I smiled, bumping her shoulder with my own.

“Well you didn’t. Every day that week after we’d get home from school, we’d get our work done, and then he’d sit me down and braid my hair for hours.”
“Then Prom night rolls around,” I explain, waving my hands around.

“And he still hadn’t perfected it.” Penny said with a comedic deadpan.

“So she sits down in the chair, cranes her neck around and tells me ‘Simon. You’ve never let me down before, I don’t think you want to start now. Take a breath, relax, and fix my hair. I have three hours ‘til Prom.’”

“The first attempt flops. I gauge the time and I tell him he has one more chance.”

“My hands are shaking. Physically shaking. Like, it looks like I’m having my own personal earthquake. But the moment I grab her hair, my hands still. Ten painstaking minutes later, I’m done.”

“And it was perfect. Came out exactly how it was supposed to.” Penny grinned triumphantly.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she looked down with a creased brow.

“Agatha wants to see the Prom photo.” She informed me.

I looked directly into the camera. “Considering I know the exact pictures she’s gonna use, no, no you don’t.”

A couple seconds later Penny’s phone buzzed again, and she burst out laughing. She spun the phone around so I could see, and I scanned the tweet quickly.

“C’mon Simon, please, can I?”

Her phone buzzed again and she refreshed her feed quickly.

“I have them on my phone, it’s happening.” Penny informed me, already furiously scrolling through her photo albums.

“Penny, I’m begging you.”

“Found the first one.” She informed me.

“Penelope.”

“And the second one!” She grinned proudly.

I sighed theatrically, dropping my head into my hands.

“So fast forward to later that day, I’m all done up and ready to go, last thing is, I have to take pictures,” Penny said, typing away at the same time. “and Simon thinks it’d be hilarious if I hop on his back for one of the photos, because why not. I think it’s gonna be hilarious too, so I agree. I go to hop up on his back and he nearly drops me in the grass.”

“I was and still am a weak man.”

“And of course I’m never going to let him live that down, especially considering our Dad snapped a picture right as it’s about to fail, so I tell him to get on my back, because where he failed I’ll succeed.”

“I don’t know what possessed me in that moment, viewers. But I agreed.”

“So I squat down, he jumps on my back, slings his legs around my waist, and I stand straight up.”

“I swear on everything she never faltered. Just smiled for the camera.”

“And of course that’s when Micah decided to show up. Like he shows up the second my legs are fully extended, I’m grinning, Simon has this amazed look on his face, and Micah doesn’t even bat an eye, just says ‘My Mom wants a nice picture of us together, by the way.’”

“I had a great time at the dance, my hair stayed in place all night, and I have these two beautiful pictures.” Penny finished, pressing the post button.

I get a notification – because of course she tagged me in them – and have to laugh, because I haven’t seen the pictures since our graduation party.

The timer for the scones goes off, and I rush over to pull them from the oven. I settle them on top of the stove, and cut the oven off. “Butter!” I call over my shoulder.

I hear the fridge door open and then the silverware drawer. I grab a scone in each hand, cursing immediately because they just came out of the oven!

“Over a decade of baking, and yet, you still try to grab food as soon as it comes out of the oven. Honestly Simon, I’m disappointed.” Penny tutted.

“Just for that, you don’t get a scone.”

“Oh no. How could you. This is the utmost betrayal.” Penny said impassively.

“Shut up.” I muttered, grabbing the scones once more (they a bit cooler this time) and making my way over to the bar.

I passed one to Penny, who smiled happily as she grabbed it from me. We each slathered them with butter, bumped them together, said a quick ‘cheers’ and took a bite.

“I’d call these successful.” I said through a mouthful.

“And I would agree.” Penny nodded, though she had swallowed her bite first.

“Thank you all again for one million. I still can’t believe it! Until next week.” And with that, I signed off.

The moment the screen went blank, my phone pinged sharply. I reached for it and quickly thumbed it open as I took another bite of my scone.

“Ohmygod.” I choked out.

“What?” Penny asked immediately, concern in her voice.

“Baz Pitch just retweeted your photos.”

“YES!” She shouted, already scrolling through her feed to find it.

“And congratulated me on one million.”

“This is the absolute best day of my life.” Penny said giddily.

“I think I need a minute.” I murmured, resting my scone on the counter, before trailing into the living room and flopping face first down onto the couch.

The Twitter Feed of Simon Snow

Simon Snow @ simonsnoway

1 million!!! Livestream comin your way @ 5pm BST
~
Penny Bunce @ buncecake

Congratulations on 1M you dork @ simonsnoway
~
Agatha Wellbelove @ badahate

Welcome to the club !!! …now I’m craving sour cherry scones lol @ simonsnoway
~
Agatha Wellbelove @ badahate

I need to see a prom photo @ buncecake @ simonsnoway
~
Agatha Wellbelove @ badahate

Yes I do @ buncecake @ simonsnoway
~
Agatha Wellbelove @ badahate

Yeah cmon Simon, can she?? @ buncecake @ simonsnoway
~
Agatha Wellbelove @ badahate retweeted buncecake’s photos

THIS IS THE SINGLE GREATEST PHOTOSET I HAVE EVER SEEN @ buncecake @ simonsnoway
~
Baz Grimm-Pitch @ thegrimmpitchreaper retweeted buncecake’s photos

Braid = 100, the lift = 0, it’s all in the knees mate, btw congrats on 1M @ simonsnoway

Chapter Text

Simon

I pattered my way down the sidewalk, my thumbs hooked in my front jean pockets. I veered sharply to the left, and found myself standing in front of a cozy little coffee shop. The wooden sign above the door shook gently in the breeze. Burned into it in a deep, simple handwriting, was the name of the business.

Ebb and Flow.

I gave a small smile, the peeling yellow paint and ivy covered windows so brilliantly familiar. I paused for only a second, my tanned hands buried deeply in my coat pockets, to admire the quaint building. It was squashed on a corner, between a brightly painted florist’s shop and a decade’s old, family owned bookshop.

The alarm on my watch beeped shrilly, signaling that I was at least ten minutes late for my shift.

Silently cursing myself in my mind, I flung the door open, crossing the threshold with two quick strides. I rushed towards the counter, hands scrabbling for my apron and hairnet. My fingers clasped around the blue of my apron, and I tugged it out from under the polished wood of the counter.

I was tugging my hairnet on when the raspy voice of my boss echoed around me. “You’re late.”

The thing about Ebb – my boss – is that she’s literally the sweetest person on the entire planet. So when that phrase from anyone else would have a malicious tint to it, Ebb simply means it as an observation.

I paused, my fingers splayed wide, holding the hairnet just above my head. “I’m really sorry.” I said in favor of a defense; I hold too much respect for Ebb too much for some flimsy excuse.

“’S fine, Simon.” She said, giving me a toothy grin. “Put the chairs down for me, yeah?”

“Sure thing.” I murmur with a nod, snapping the hairnet over my messy curls, which I hadn’t had time to tame this morning.

As I made my way over to the first table, I knotted my apron on behind my back – which was no small feat. I used to be so uncoordinated that I’d end up tying my fingers into the bow.

Ebb found it particularly endearing. Her brother, Nico (he handles all the finances, almost never leaves the office) almost fired when he walked in on me hopping around the dining area with my fingers caught behind my back, and locked in the ties of my apron (not my proudest moment, especially considering it was my first day and the fact that Penny somehow got her hands on pictures.)

I grabbed the first chair, a surprisingly comfortable wooden frame with a bright colored cushion for extra comfort, and flipped it over. The legs struck the ground harder than I meant them to, so I sent a sheepish smile Ebb’s way for it.

The shop isn’t all that big, with only a dozen or so circular tables. Plus, at two chairs a piece, some days we have trouble finding space for everyone who comes in. I methodically make my way around the room, pulling chairs off the wooden table tops, and trying a bit harder to be gentler when I rest them on the ground.

Eventually, I find myself in the back corner, facing The Couch. No one really knows where The Couch came from, The Couch was here when Ebb bought the place. And, presumably, will remain here until the day the building is demolished.

The Couch’s true color is unknown, but as of now, it’s a sort of blue color, unless the light hits it just right, then it looks kinda green. Except one customer swears up and down that it’s plum. Still not sure where they got that from. Still not sure what color The Couch is.

When I first started working here (halfway through Penny’s first semester at Uni) The Couch was pillow-less. Now, there are four mismatched pillows (whose origins are just as mysterious as that of The Couch itself), spread evenly between the corners. I know I’ll have to confiscate them by the end of the day and store them behind the counter, but I still prop them up each morning.

The Couch is mostly avoided by the older crowd that comes in. From the whispers I’ve overheard when bussing tables, it’s due to ‘hygiene concerns’. But the college kids love it. Apparently not only is it a prime people watching spot, but it’s also far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the regular café business, that studying can happen if you set your mind to it.

I can’t tell you how many pencils and pens I’ve found between the cushions, left by late night studiers who are crashing from all the caffeine they’ve consumed, and end up leaving in a rush to get back to their dorms to hopefully catch a few hours of sleep.

I grab the plump cream pillow to fluff it up – it’s got the most awful (yet intricate) beadwork on it and tassels that line the whole rim (thought there’s a chunk missing.) Basically, it looks like a pillow from your gram’s house. Mothball scent and all. I set it to the side, reaching for the pea-green corduroy one behind it, and find a clump of three or four red ink pens.

The ends have been obviously nibbled on – I guess they were used for revising then – but other than that, they’re in pretty good shape. I pocket them instead of putting them in the Study Jar (Ebb likes to keep a jar on the counter of left behind writing utensils for the students who forget or lose their own), considering that (a.) Ebb gives me dibs on all writing utensils before they go in the Study Jar and (b.) they’re a really nice brand.

“Quarter after seven!” Ebb calls, signaling that the doors are ready to be opened.
Unsurprisingly, the moment Ebb steps away from unlocking the doors and flipping the closed sign around to the open side, three people walk in. The Saturday regulars usually trickle in, in clumps around opening and then again at lunchtime, but don’t leave ‘til closing.

I puff up the wine purple velvet and traditional red plaid pillows before striding quickly over to the counter to take my position behind it. The other barista, a kid named Dev, won’t come on the clock until noon, so I’ve just got to push through until then. I deal with the initial three customers, two of which aren’t regulars.

After them, I set about throwing together a few orders that I know by heart – because the best part about having regular (and punctual) customers, is that you start to remember orders, and can have them done in advance.

The hours trickle by as I assemble drink after drink, successfully maintain my own brand of small talk, and toss around a few smiles here and there.
Finally, at exactly twelve on the dot, Dev clocks in - which means I get my fifteen minute break.

I head over to one of the closest tables. There's an older woman with softly curled dark gray hair, sitting by herself and clacking away at her laptop.

"Mind if I sit?" I smile, already spinning the chair around and plopping down.
I rest my forearms along the back of the frame, and rest my chin on top of my stacked wrists.

"Hello Simon," She says sweetly, her voice like honey on a teaspoon that let gravity take over.

"Hey Miss C," I chuckle, flashing her a grin.

Miss C teaches at the local University. Penny's never personally had one of her classes - as Miss C's over in the cooking department - but Penny likes her enough.

"I was with my granddaughter this weekend, and she told me that you reached a million on your YouTube channel. That true?"

I feel the pale pink flush creeping up my neck and attaching itself to my ears.

"Ah, yes ma'am."

"Congratulations." She's still smiling, and still looking at her laptop.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Are you ever going to apply those tremendous cooking skills to an academic course?" She asks, finally lifting her hazel eyes up from her screen.

"I've been thinking about it," I admit shyly, ducking my head.

She quirks a curious brow. “Really now?”

I mean, I get why she’s surprised. We do this every week, have since I started working here. Ebb had let me bring in some baked goods that were the product of a new recipe. She told me that she’d sell them, and then at the end of the night, I could have some of the profit if they sold enough. Before the day was over, I had to jump in the small, cramped kitchen of the café, and make up two other batches. No recipe, just my memory.

So when Miss C had tasted them, and had complimented Ebb on them, Ebb had deflected the compliments to me (like I said, sweetest person on the planet.) Miss C had instantly taken a liking to me, and wanted to know it I was in at her Uni, possibly in the cooking program.

When I had told her that I had opted out of Uni, she had immediately set to trying to subtly convince me. And so, every week, I’d sit with her on my first fifteen minute break of Saturday, and we’d talk food.

And every time she’d ask if I had considered professional schooling for my cooking. Today was the first time I had responded with something other than a resounding ‘no’.

“I mean, I realize I’ll be a little late to the party,” I mumble, scratching at the back of my neck.

“You know I won’t sugarcoat it for you Simon, sugarcoating is for Danish wedding cookies, not adults. You are joining a little later than others. When your peers are graduating, you’ll just be beginning. But everyone works at their own pace, and if this is your pace, then that’s okay.”

“I still haven’t completely decided.” I murmur feebly.

Really, I’ve been thinking about it non-stop lately.

“On your own time, Simon. Whatever you decide, just make sure you’re making the choice for yourself and not because you think it’s what others want you to do, alright?”

I nod, locking her sage words away for another time.

“I’ve got to get going, I’m teaching a basic cooking skills class over at the YMCA. Which looks good on college applications, by the way.” She laughs, nudging me gently with her elbow as she packs her computer into her satchel.

“Thanks, Miss C.”

“Any time, Simon.”

I still had some time left on my break, so I plucked my phone out of my pant pocket. I’ve got all kinds of notifications, the first one being for an email.

I get a lot of spam emails, but they get filtered out pretty easily, so I only get notifications for business inquiries – or cat videos that Penny found while she was supposed to be studying, but instead paged through YouTube.

From: Davy Mage

To: You

Mister Snow,

My name is Davy Mage. I’m the event coordinator for the Watford Coliseum Complex. In a few months, we will be holding our annual Watford Fandom Convention, where we invite those from all over to take part in a weekend of family-friendly fun.
We hold panels, and invite popular culture icons to attend and have a safe space to engage with their fan bases. Due to its popularity last year, we are pleased to announce that we intend to hold another YouTuber-centered panel.

We would like to officially invite you to join us this summer, on our Popular YouTuber panel.

You may contact me back at this email address, or you can call me at the number provided at the bottom of this email. Thank you for your time, the staff of Watford Coliseum Complex hopes to work with you in the future. Have a nice day.

~ Davy Mage

I scan the phone number listed at the bottom, and promptly set to hopefully not hyperventilating in the middle of my workplace.

“Dev, cover me for a few extra minutes?” I call over at the boy behind the counter.

“Sure thing.”

I press through the throng of people waiting in line with quickly muttered apologies falling off my tongue. I push outside, and go a little ways away from the building before I commence Internal and External Panic/Freak-out Mode.

The WFC is literally the most popular con. Tickets sell out within minutes of being posted. And I was just invited to speak on one of their panels.

I was just invited to be a guest speaker on a WFC panel.

I have to call Penny.

Apparently, I’m still holding my phone – sorry, clutching it for dear life. I unlock it quickly, and savagely press Penny’s contact photo.

“You have reached the voicemail of Penelope Bunce, please-“

I curse under my breath, redialing. Voicemail.

Dial. Voicemail.

Dial. Voicemail.

Dial. The line connects on the fourth ring.

“Simon, are you okay? I’m sorry, I was in the library while I waited for my next class and I had my phone turned down-“

“You aren’t in the library anymore, right?” I ask hurriedly.

“No?” She trails slowly.

“Okay good. Penny, you’re never gonna believe what just happened to me.”

“What? Wait, hold on, I’ve got an email from…” She stops, her sentence left unfinished.

“Pen?” I ask, because Crowley, she got one too, didn’t she?!

“Simon!” She hisses excitedly (when she gets excited, she either yells, or nearly loses her voice all together. It’s a very odd spectrum.)

“What?!”

“I just got an email from the event coordinator at the Watford Coliseum Complex inviting me to W. F. C.” She punctuates each letter with a fierceness I’ve never heard before.

“I did too.”

“You did too!” It isn’t a question, but an enthusiastic statement.

“That’s what I was calling about,” I laugh brightly. “But Pen you’re going too!”

“I don’t have time to happy cry!” She yells, her voice crackling slightly.

I can hear a muffled shout in the background of wherever she’s standing. There’s a crinkling sound, and then Penny’s shouting right back. “KEEP WALKING, MY BEST MATE AND I ARE GOING TO THE WFC AND I’M JUST REALLY EXCITED!”

More crinkling, and then she sounded the appropriate distance away.

“What was that?” I laugh.

“Some arse was looking at me like I’d sprouted another head, made a snarky comment.” She grumbles, and I could almost see her heatedly readjusting her glasses.

“Try not to fight anyone, yeah Pen? At least not ‘til I get off work, because I couldn’t bail you out ‘til then.”

“Har-har.” She snorts, but I knew she was smiling fondly.

“I actually need to get going, Dev can only hold down the counter for so long.”

“We’ll celebrate when you get off work.”

“Considering the last time we went to pub, Pen, I recommend a night of celebrating at home, in our pyjamas.”

“I don't know what you expected Simon, he tried to go on a homophobic, misogynistic, racist spiel and then expected everyone to happily go along with it.”

“You decked him so hard that you knocked one of his teeth loose, Pen. He almost pressed charges.”

“What can I say, I have an impressive right hook.” The grin in her tone was palpable.

“As someone who was once on the receiving end, I can confirm.”

“I thought you were over that, Simon.” She sighs good-naturedly.

“Will I ever be?!” I shout dramatically.

“Love you, nerd.”

“Love you too, dork.” I reply as the line goes dead.

I flipped back over to my email, saved Mr. Mage’s number, and pocketed my phone.

I’d have to call him on my walk home.

I rushed back to the shop, an unshakable smile on my face.

Chapter Text

Baz

I gathered up the supplies, transporting them from the bathroom to our usual filming location – aka Agatha’s bedroom (because frankly, mine’s always too much of a mess.) I barely managed to keep the hairbrush on top of the pile from tumbling away, but was ultimately successful in my trek to her room through our apartment.

Agatha’s decorating tastes haven’t changed much over the years, though I’m not quite sure what I expected. She’s always had a taste for the more expensive things in life (one thing we originally bonded over, if I’m being honest) and that’s stayed with her, even after deciding to strike it out on her own and not live off of her parent’s – considerable – fortune.

Hints why I, her roommate, am here. No, the real reason we live together is because we both wanted to distance ourselves from our families and their respective fortunes (for different reasons) and we just so happened to be best friends (who are both broke, in money terms.)

Anyway, that’s not something I want to get in to right now. Back to Aggie’s decorating skills. The walls shifted from her usual blush pink to a sort of seafoam green about two years ago; some sort of self-proclaimed ‘Time to Revamp Everything’ decision made in the heat of the moment.

But because it’s Agatha, it works well. Especially with the darkly stained wooden accents she’s added in. She’s got her old vanity perched on the far wall – though, she sanded it down to its original wood finish and stained it during one of her DIY phases (I say ‘one of’ because there have been multiple, and I’m pretty sure she’s due up for another one soon.)

The walls are still heavily decorated, with her favorite posters hung up above her bed. Her lacrosse medals, which used to inhabit the space to the right of her posters, became so abundant that she had to dedicate a whole wall to them. On that wall are also three shelves, filled to the edges with trophies.

Her lacrosse sticks (there are three – her very first one, the one she won her very first championship with, and her current one) are hung vertically on the wall by the door, ready to go at any moment.

I drop the supplies onto the pale green and gray comforter thrown lazily over her bed, and set to organizing. There’s a sort of grunting sound, and then a furry white paw enters my field of vision. I recoil slightly, a growl rattling around in my rib cage.

“You aren’t supposed to be on the furniture.” I grumble, snatching up a few hairbands and rolling them onto my wrist as I continue sorting.

There’s still a pile of hairbands, both regular and the tiny elastic ones, on the bed. The Demon Spawn whines again, pacing over and trudging right through my meticulously cultivated pile of elastics. Then, it has the gall to look back and wink at me.

“You’re insufferable.” I hiss, picking it up and gently moving it out of my way.

“You better not be talking to my Lucy like that.” A voice says from behind me.

“Yes, how unfortunate that would be.” I mutter, swiping the elastics back into a pile.

“I’m serious. Lucy’s never done anything to you.”

“I’m sorry, you must be forgetting The Bedroom Lockdown.” I said, whipping around to face her.

“Baz, she’s like, all of one stone. You’re what, thirteen, fourteen?”

“She has fangs.”

“She has teeth. Honestly Baz, I didn’t realize we were still in primary and all puppies were big, scary wolves.”

“Agatha I was trapped in my room for three hours!”

“You could have left at any minute!” She retorted, flopping backwards onto the bed, and letting Lucy curl up on her chest.

I scoffed loudly, decidedly ignoring her.

“So what’re we doing today?”

“Viewer submitted. The centerpiece is a fishtail braid, and then the side-attractions are two pulled braids.”

She nodded, stretching her arms above her head, before sitting up. “Right then,” She grinned. “I’m gonna hit the loo and then we’ll get this party started.”

I waved her off, plopping down on the edge of the bed – farthest away from the hell hound that I could get without sitting on the floor – and flipped through the business email. I cleared out a few old ones, and clicked on the newest one. It was an invitation to a convention. The Convention.

“Agatha Wellbelove!” I shouted, my hands jittering slightly.

“Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch!” She called in a mocking response.

I glared at the doorway in lieu of her actual self, frowning slightly at the mention of my first name.

“Get your arse in here, important email.”

“Professional or personal?”

“Ags, if it was personal I already would’ve marked it as spam."

“True, alright, what’s up?” She asked, trotting back into the room.

“Business inquiry.” I explained, rereading the middle paragraph of the email.

“From?” She prodded, poking my shoulder incessantly.

“A certain convention. Three letters. Very popular.”

“Baz. Baz, Baz, Baz don’t play with me.”

“I’m not-“

“Because I swear if you are I’ll knock you into next Tuesday.” She growled, snatching my phone from my hand and hungrily reading over the words.

“You have such an angelic presence, but inside, you’re so violent.” I muttered, but it fell on deaf ears.

She squeaked, body bouncing with excitement as she came to the conclusion of the email. “We’re going to the WFC!” She shrieked, clapping her hand over her mouth and giggling at the shrill noise that had just escaped it.

“Well technically we have to actually accept the invite, Ags.” I beamed goofily.

“Then start dialing! You’re gonna have to talk though, I’ll probably end up making a fool of myself if I try to handle it.”

I sniffed haughtily. “I always knew I was the professional in this partnership.”

“Shut up!” She laughed, swatting at my shoulder.

“Alright, I’m gonna call. Wait, what time is it?”

“Just call! If you don’t reach him then leave a voicemail!” She hissed, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. Her feet swung around in the air, a nervous habit she’s had since we were kids.

“Okay, okay.” I muttered, hastily dialing the number.

It rang twice, and it was probably the most stressful three or so seconds of my life. The line connected, and for a second, I was completely breathless.

A beat, and then: “Hello?”

I snapped back into my professional mindset, immediately responding with a, “Hello, Mister Mage? This is Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

“Oh! Hello, Mister Grimm-Pitch. I wasn’t expecting to hear back so soon!”

“I’m sorry, sir. I can call back-“

“Nonsense, my boy! I assume that Miss Wellbelove is with you?”

I let my phone fall back into my palm as I pulled it away from my ear. I pressed the speaker button, and let the tinny voice echo around the room. “Say hello,” I hissed discretely at Agatha.

“Hi, Mister Mage! It’s Agatha Wellbelove.”

“Please, call me Davy. So, I assume that you received our email. Thoughts?”

Before I could formulate a set of questions to reply with, words were already spilling out of Agatha. “We would be honored, Davy. But before either Baz or I can confirm our appearance, we’ll need to make sure there aren’t any conflicting engagements for the dates requested, and then we’ll need to talk about payment.”

Impressed, I turned to Agatha and mouthed “Where’d you learn to haggle like that?” raising an eyebrow for emphasis. Normally, she’d make me handle all the formalities, seeing as how my father had taught me to talk business before he taught me to walk.

She grinned mischievously, wiggling her eyebrows. “A girl’s gotta have her secrets.” She whispered as a reply.

Davy cleared his throat, and I could almost feel the air shift with the conversation; from pleasantries to business.

“The convention is set to take place in our complex from Friday, July 15th, to Sunday, July 17th. On Friday and Saturday, it will begin at eight in the morning, and end at six in the evening. Sunday, we’ll start at nine, and end at four, as we know that people need time for travel. The panel that we have invited you to begins at two on Saturday afternoon, and will last until four.”

“If you don’t mind, give me a minute to check our schedule.” Agatha intoned, retching her phone out of the pocket of her jean shorts and quickly unlocking it. Her eyes darted over the information with a scrutiny I hadn’t ever seen before. She nodded, seemingly satisfied with her findings.

“We’re free that weekend, and unless something unforeseeable happens, are willing to attend. Before we officially agree, I’d like to discuss the terms of payment.”

“Of course, of course.” He proceeded to rattle off a number that made even Agatha’s eyes widen. “Half will be given to you once you arrive, and the other half will be given to you after the panel is complete.”

“I think we’ll see you in July, Mister Mage.” I croaked without a second’s hesitation.

“Wonderful!”

“One last question though,” Agatha piped up after she had collected herself. “Do we need to keep this hush-hush, or is publicity okay?”

“Please do feel free to advertise! Whatever platforms you want.”

“We’re about to start filming our next video, so I just wanted to make sure. Thank you for your time, Davy. We won’t keep you any longer. Have a good day.” Agatha smiled.

“And to you too, Miss Wellbelove, and Mister Grimm-Pitch.”

The line went dead and Agatha looked at me with a stunned expression. “We just negotiated a deal to go to the WFC.”

“We? You negotiated it. When’d you get so good at that stuff, Ags?”

“I know people, and those people know things, Baz. That’s all you need to know.” She winked, grinning cheekily.

“I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“That’s the point, darling.”

Agatha has this habit where she uses romantic pet names in a platonic manner for her friends. It’s nothing to have her throw a ‘babe’ or ‘darling’ at you without a second thought about it. Once in Year Eleven we tried to break her from the habit. She decorated a little jar and any time she used a pet name she had to drop a pound in the jar. My role was to enforce it. By the end of the year we had both given up, but we were able to go out to dinner with all the money that had accumulated.

“We need to get to filming before it’s too late.” I said, standing up and cracking my back.

“That’s not good for you, y’know.” She muttered.

“I saw you do it this morning. So tell me, are you the pot or the kettle?”

“Exactly, and I’m gonna have a messed up back when I’m older. You’re so young, you can still save yourself.” She whispered dramatically.

“You’re literally two months older than me, Agatha.”

“When I was your age-“ She began in a rasping old woman’s voice as she rolled around.

“Shut up,” I laughed through a yawn, scooping up a pillow that had fallen on the floor and chucking it at her.

She snatched up the pillow and tossed it back with tenfold my force. It connected with my stomach and I’m instantly doubled over, coughing loudly. I think I might bruise.

“Get that over with before I start the camera, I don’t want to have to edit out more than what I’m already going to have to.” She grumbled, fiddling with the controls on the camera.

She pressed the record button, and rushed to sit in front of it. We both plopped down on the floor and grinned widely.

“Hi!” Agatha and I intoned, our grins anything but forced.

I opened my mouth to create a segway into introducing our announcement, but was cut off when a wriggling body dropped off of the bed and into my lap.

I glared down at Lucy, pursing my lips. “This’s The Chimera.” I explained, looking at the camera. When things don’t go to plan, improv is your best friend when filming.

“Baz, leave Lucy alone!” Agatha squawked, swatting at my shoulder, before pulling Lucy into her lap.

“Her name is The Chimera,” I stated again. “And I have good reasoning for it.”

“You’re reasoning is cruel, Basilton.”

I took a deep breath, ready to launch into the full story. “So a few weeks ago, Ags brings this pup home, right? She’s all matted up and covered in dirt, looks like she has a little lion mane. It’d been raining, so she’s also soaked to the bone and shivering. We towel dry her because she was freaked out by the sound of the hair dryer, and then feed her.”

“The next day, I took her to the vet for a quick check-up, and then once we got the all clear there, I took her to the groomer’s for a much needed haircut.” Agatha explained lightly.

“Somewhere along the line, there was a miscommunication and the groomer shaved her all the way down. So when Ags brings her home, I start laughing-“

“Cackling. He was cackling.” Agatha interjected.

“And I tell her how it looks like a baby goat.”

Drolly, Agatha adds, “He made picture comparisons.”

“And then,” I continue. “She’s happy all the time so her tail’s always wagging and her tail got shaved down too, and it looks like a snake.”

Agatha stroked at Lucy’s fur – which was coming back in nicely – affectionately as she cooed at the small creature. “So he’s taken to calling my darling Lucy, The Chimera.”

“The bloody dog hates me, Agatha. She’s always barking, and the way she barks, she might as well be breathing fire.”

“You’re such a nerd.” She snorted.

“I didn’t hear you complaining when I tutored you into passing that mythology unit a few years ago.” I retorted with a smirk.

“Anyway!” She grinned, shooting me a glare that plainly stated ‘shut up’. “Announcement time!”

The Phone of Simon Snow

~YouTube~

New From GrimmLove: Fan Submitted Style + Announcements

~ Twitter ~

Agatha Wellbelove @ badahate

Watch out @ WatfordFanCon , me and @ thegrimmpitchreaper are gonna see you in July!!

Baz Grimm-Pitch @ thegrimmpitchreaper

@ badahate and I are excited to announce we’ll be at the WFC Youtuber panel in July!

~ Texts ~

From: Me

To: Bunce Cake

Attachment: screenshot_twitter

PN En Y O HYMGODdd

From: Bunce Cake

I CANT BREATHE

IM IN TEARS FROM LAUGHING SO HARD

YOU ARENT EVEN GONNA BE ABLE TO FOCUS ON THE PANEL ARE YOU

YOURE GONNA BE TOO BUSY BEING DAZZLED BY HIS BEAUTY

From: Me

PENNY SH

UT UP

IM A //PROFESSIONAL//

From: Bunce Cake

Yeah, a professional LOVE SICK PUPPY

Chapter Text

Simon

I trudged into the kitchen, rubbing my hands over my face tiredly. Penny’s already sitting at the bar, reading something on her phone, and sipping black coffee from her ‘nerds rule’ coffee mug that I got her a few years ago for her birthday – the words are done in an 8-bit font the color of her glasses. The background is a smooth white, and on the rim, directly across from the handle, is a deep chip.

She smiled sleepily at me as she set it back down on the counter with a soft clack. Sweeping a thick red curl from her eyes, she grinned. “Mornin’ sunshine.”

“Mornin’,” I replied through a yawn, waving gently.

“What’s on the agenda today?” She asked, grabbing her mug up again.

“What day is it?” I rasped, the edges of my voice still sharp from sleep.

She smiled over the rim of her cup, before swallowing thickly. “Tuesday.”

“I don’t have a shift today, so I’ll probably do some filming? I found this new recipe I wanna try out.”

She nodded, flicking her eyes over the screen in front of her as she scrolled. “Yeah, I need to get some filming done too. What kind of recipe is it?”

“Cake.”

“I almost got excited, but knowing you it’ll probably be a sour cherry scone cake.”

“That’s not even possible.”

“You’d make it work. Why can’t you make like, something without fruit in it? And that isn’t pie? I love you and your baking, but desserts aren’t supposed to have fruit in them. Fruit is healthy. Dessert is not supposed to be. Seriously, I need some chocolate cake in my life, Simon.”

“I’ll think about it.” I muttered, hiding my smile.

“I’m holding you to that.”

I bobbed my head, our early morning conversations are always like this: slathered in lingering tiredness and the realization that plans need to be made and executed accordingly.

I went to the cupboard and tugged a box of cereal down, not even bothering to read the label. One scratched glass bowl, slightly bent metal spoon, and the near spillage of milk later, and I was sitting on the stool beside Penny, steadily shoveling cereal into my mouth.

“What’re you reading?” I asked, crunching cereal around my words.

“This article about school dress codes over in the States. You’d think they’d never seen a shoulder or kneecap before. And how blatantly biased they are about it, it’s disgusting.” She spat, continuing to scroll, her annoyance rising with each paragraph that she read.

She drained the rest of her coffee, grimacing around the dregs. “I think my weekly rant might come a little sooner than anticipated.” She said, her cheeks growing hot with anger.

I grunted my assent, trying to wrap my sleep-dazed brain around her words. Finally, after a painfully long minute, her words sunk in. “Make sure not to yell too loud, we can’t afford another citation for noise pollution or whatever it’s called.” I mumbled.

“Yeah, well, don’t get anything stuck to the ceiling, because I’m not helping you clean it. I’d rather not almost break my arm again.”

I laughed, scooting off of the stool and pattering towards the sink. I dumped the remainder of my milk down the drain, and slid the bowl onto the counter beside the sink. On my way towards my room, I stopped to press a kiss to the crown of Penny’s head. “I’m gonna go put on a shirt so I can get to filming. Out of my kitchen.”

She snorted fondly. “Last time I checked, I pay half the rent. Unless, that is, you’re taking over the rent. In which case, my student loans thank you.”

“You know what I mean!” I called with a smile from the doorway of my bedroom, scratching at the pudge of my mole-dotted abdomen.

I stepped farther into the room, narrowly avoiding stubbing my toe on the rickety wooden table that holds my small TV. I pulled the top drawer of my dresser open, rifling through it for a clean t-shirt.

I need to do laundry.

Eventually, I found one, but it’s long sleeve. I sighed, but pulled it on nonetheless, and pushed the sleeves up to my elbows.

I looked down at my sweatpants, trying to decide if I needed to change them or not. I shrugged, it wasn’t like I hadn’t filmed wearing sweatpants before. I grabbed my camera off of my nightstand, and trekked out into the hallway.

There was soft classical music pouring out from under the door to Penny’s room. She likes to play it when she’s filming to cover any outside noise. I still don’t know why she uses classical though, she hates classical music.

I pressed forward, making my way into the kitchen. I propped the camera up, hit the record button, and busily scurried around the kitchen.

“Welcome to the kitchen, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers!” I called over my shoulder, stretching my arm to pull the flour down from the top shelf of the cabinet.

That’s been my opener for the past three years. I had been using generic stuff like “Hey guys” and “Welcome,” but I was starting to gain a following, and I wanted something identifiable. And I’m not good with words, so I asked Penny for her help. She responded by pulling out a dilapidated copy of a book of nursery rhymes from when she was a baby, throwing it at me, and yelling “Figure it out!”

Apparently she had been waiting for the day that I asked for help to find a new greeting because she was sick of me using generic ones. She had been planning it for a while.

I swiped the cocoa powder from the top shelf, along with the baking powder, salt, baking soda, the sugar jar off the counter, and deposited them on the bar. “So,” I said, planting my hands wide on the counter and looking directly into the camera. “Penny has been badgering me for the past week or two, no make it three, to make something that isn’t pie, and doesn’t contain fruit. So, there goes all of my recipes.” I chuckled under my breath.

“But I love my sister, and thus, I went on a search. And by that I mean I blocked Penny on Twitter for about a day and asked you guys to send in some chocolate cake recipes. By the way, she never noticed. Anyway, Twitter user mordeliarty sent in a recipe for a dark chocolate coffee cake that looks really good, so while Penny is preoccupied, I’m going to make this cake and surprise her with it.”

I turned around and went back to the cabinets, rustling through them for vegetable oil and vanilla extract, making a quick stop off at the fridge, I piled the coffee, egg carton, and buttermilk on to my small pile.

“While I preheat the oven, I’m gonna go ahead and brew a small pot of coffee ‘cause the recipe calls for a cup of strongly brewed coffee.” I explained, measuring the coffee out and setting it up in the machine.

“Then we gotta grease two, nine inch cake pans.” I said, looking over the recipe that I had printed out yesterday while Penny was at the library.

I rapidly greased the pans, the butter squishing between my stubby, freckled fingers. Quickly rinsing my hands off with hot water and soap, I dried them and ducked down, retrieving my big mixing bowl and mixer.

I’ve always wanted one of those nice stand mixers, but I’ve never really had an excuse to spend that kind of money. And if I don’t have an excuse for it, I can’t bring myself to spend large amounts of money. It was all Penny could do to even get me to agree to move into this apartment with her.

I tottered back over to the counter and deposited the bowl, slinging one of the drawers under the bar open and grabbing my measuring cups. I’ve always liked measuring stuff live, it takes more time, but it feels more personal to me.

“We’re gonna mix all the dry ingredients, so flour, sugar, baking powder and soda, salt, and cocoa powder.” I said, snatching up my measuring cups and efficiently measuring out the ingredients.

I grabbed a mixing spoon (the only thing I had set out last night before going to bed) and softly folded the components together, trying not to send the powdery mixture flying all over the kitchen.

“So then, according to the recipe, you make a well in the center.”

I used the spoon to scrape the dry mixture up the sides of the metal bowl, leaving a hole in the center. Next step said to add all of the wet ingredients. I carefully popped open the egg carton and extracted two eggs. Grabbing one in each hand, I tapped them on the side of the bowl at the same time, and let the yolks and whites run into the center of the bowl.

As I added the rest of the components, I let words fill the empty space. Normally, words don’t come easily to me, they never have, but when I’m baking…when I’m baking everything is so much easier. There isn’t any pressure to preform, to keep up a stream of words. You concentrate on the recipe, you put stuff into a bowl, and good stuff comes out.

Penny says I don’t give myself enough credit, that baking is an art, especially at my caliber. Which, I mean, she’s probably right, but baking just isn’t hard to me anymore. And since it’s so easy, it doesn’t feel like much to whip up a dark chocolate coffee cake for my best friend.

“-but one of the main things was that she didn’t want any fruit in the dessert, but a fruit oriented glaze or icing would be good with this. Then again, the picture with this recipe showed a chocolate icing, but would that be too rich?” I ask no one in particular as grab my mixing bowl and carry it, along with my mixer, over to the counter by the fridge.

I beat the mixture together, letting my mind wander to possible icings for two minutes. When I was done, I ejected the beaters from the mixer’s base, resisting the urge to taste the batter slipping down the metal. I shook my head, dropping them in the sink – the last thing I need right now is salmonella because I decided to try some uncooked cake batter.

Making my way back to the bar, I dropped the mixing bowl safely onto the counter and grabbed up one of the greased cake pans. A minute or so later, I had two evenly distributed cakes. I moved towards the oven, and slipped them both in, setting the timer.

“Alright, we’ve got around thirty-five minutes until we need to check that, so let’s go ahead and put together a basic chocolate icing. This is the one that I use any time I need chocolate icing, so you all probably know it by now, if not, I’ll link the recipe below. But anyway, I won’t bore you with the process.”

I grabbed up all of the elements from around the kitchen, and quickly assembled the icing. I dumped it into two piping bags, and set them in the fridge so it wouldn’t melt while I finished waiting on the cakes.

I washed up the dishes, checked my emails, grabbed some crisps, and thirty minutes later I pulled the two – heavenly smelling – cakes out of the oven. I inserted a toothpick in the center of each, and was pleasantly surprised when it came out clean.

After letting them cool, I grabbed my nice cake stand out of the cabinet. After wiping it down, I dropped the first layer onto it, piped a generous layer of icing onto it, and put the second layer onto it.

“Since I went through all this trouble,” I laughed lightly, letting a smile etch itself on to lips. “I’m gonna make it look nice. I’ll use the floral design I had the how-to video on back in…January or February? Whichever it was, the link will be down below.”

I let myself fall into a groove: circle, circle, circle, flick the wrist. Circle, circle, circle, flick the wrist.

Smiling proudly down at my creation, I dug my phone out of my pocket and texted Penny a done filming yet? And then looked towards the camera. “And now, to reveal the surprise.”

Eh. What’s up though??

C’mere

I heard the lock on her door click, and I couldn’t help but grin excitedly at the camera as I stepped in front of the cake so she couldn’t see it.

“What’s up Si- ohmygod what is that glorious smell?” She groaned, coming into the kitchen.

“Surprise?” I said, stepping out from in front of the cake, and thus the camera.

As soon as her eyes rested on the cake, she shouted, “Yes!” and pumped her fist in the air, dancing excitedly in a circle.

“Chocolate coffee cake, chocolate icing, definitely not healthy. Happy now?” I chuckled.

“Yes, yes, yes.” She bounced, the fabric of her oversized graphic t-shirt bouncing with her.

“Want a slice?”

“No Simon, I’m going to go finish filming knowing that this cake is sitting on the counter- of course I want a slice,”

I grabbed a knife from a drawer over by the fridge while she grabbed plates and forks.

“Nice piping.” She commented, looking at the cake with an impressed look.

“Thanks,” I said slicing two pieces – one a tad bigger than the other for Penny. “I’m gonna sign off here, ‘til next week butchers, bakers, candlestick makers.” I said, reaching for the camera.
“Did you film that?” She asked, though the smile on her face was amused (I hope.)

The Phone of Baz Grimm-Pitch

To: mordeLOSER

From: Me

Mordelia isn’t that…isn’t that the cake you told you made for your mum’s birthday a few years back and didn’t save me a slice of

From: mordeLOSER

I didn’t even know you still watched Simon’s videos. I see the crush hasn’t subsided then.

From: Me

Shut up Mordelia

From: mordeLOSER

Aww Basil it’s ok

He is p cute tbh

Nice forearms
And his freckles are adorable

From: Me

I hate you

From: mordeLOSER

And yet you don’t deny it

Ooo btw check this out

screenshot_WFCYTLINEUP

Your boy is on the panel w/ you

From: Me

GOODBYE MORDELIA

~

From: Me

To: Agathaaaaaaa

Forward: screenshot_WFCYTLINEUP

AGS

AGGIE

AGATHA

A

G

A

From: Agathaaaaaaa

I WAS WAITING TO SEE HOW LONG IT TOOK UNTIL YOU FOUND OUT IM

LA UHGInF

But for real you need a game plan

~Things to ask Simon Snow for~ (1.) His hair routine for your v best friend bc his curls are my everything (2.) his autograph for your lil sis who adores/respects him (3.) his hand in marriage

That last one is for you

To: Agathaaaaaaa

A G A T H A

From: Agathaaaaaaa

Send me an invite to the wedding ;)

Chapter Text

Simon
4:37
That’s the time blinking back at me from my alarm clock.

I haven’t slept yet.

I roll to face the wall, wading through shadows to pillow my hands under my head. The darkness around me is heavy. I have no lights or electronics on – save for my digital clock – my door is shut, and the curtains are pulled tight. So it’s thick enough that I can’t see my hands as they come toward my face; only feel my fingerprints dust over the smooth, brown skin of my jawline.

I exhale deeply, closing my eyes to try to force them into submission – to sleep. They pop back open a few seconds later, glaring hard enough at the paint on my walls that I wouldn’t be surprised if it started to weep off of the surface.

My mind won’t shut off. Just when I think I’m about to doze away, a new train of thought pulls into the station, waiting for the passengers to board.

Usually, I’m worried about the channel, which has had a number of problems in the past, but right now I’m worried about something else. Something a bit more important.

School.

I want to sign up for the autumn semester. Or at least, I think I do.

I’ve never really cared that I’m not a professional, or at least, haven’t had professional schooling. It’s never been an issue, and it’s never interfered with life, so why would I?

But now, I’m not sure. Something’s changed, I just can’t figure out what. All of a sudden I want the classroom experience, I want the training. I want to sharpen the blade of my skills, because right now they feel dull, unrefined.

There’s nothing wrong with self-taught skills, they’ve gotten me this far in life, haven’t they? But I just can’t help wonder what I could be.

Penny’s going to do great things. I know it, feel it in my gut every time I look at her. Our siblings too. Our parents already have. And I don’t want to be left behind, not again. The mere thought makes my heart hammer in my chest. But I don’t want to live in other’s shadows either.

I just want to be Simon. Preferably: “Moderately Successful” Simon or “Can Pay His Own Bills Without a Roommate” Simon (though I love Penny, we can’t live together forever.)

I take a deep breath in through my nose, counting one, two, three, four before releasing for another four, three, two, one. I do this a few more times, trying to ease my rabid mind. All I want right now is for it to shut off, just long enough for me to drop off of the brink of sleep. But at the rate I’m going, it feels like I’m on a raft at the edge of a lake, just centimeters too far from the edge to push off and make it to the other side, so I’m just awkwardly floating along; not close enough to the beginning, but too far away from the end.

I roll again, pinching my phone between my thumb and pointer finger until it’s in front of my eyes. I lazily unlock it, taking my time to press each letter so as not to have to retype the whole password when I inevitably get it wrong.

My homescreen lights up, a ghostly brightness spilling through every open space to dance across the far wall. I tap my YouTube app, bringing up my profile. I scroll quickly through my subscriptions, already knowing where I’m going.

I’m able to find the video quickly, I’ve listened to it enough times that I could probably recite it verbatim. The emblem blazes across my screen as I hit the volume button two clicks, just enough for the voices to carry, but not so loud that it’s blaring.

I set my phone back on the nightstand, face down. Baz’s voice rolls over my ears, scratching my speakers with its rough edges. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I’ll listen to a GrimmLove video – usually something with mainly Baz, but only because Agatha’s voice is so cheerful, and keeps me awake longer.

Listening to Baz’s voice is like watching honey drip off of a teaspoon or a raindrop roll down a pane of glass; smooth, steady, and oddly calming.

I can feel my heart rate stabilizing, and my thoughts winding down with each syllable he utters.

------

The next thing my consciousness registers is waking up. I don’t remember falling asleep, but that’s nothing new. Pushing myself up, I swing my long legs around, and plant my feet on the ground.

I press my toes against the cool hardwood, using it to ground myself and help to bat away the residual cobwebs of sleep.

I crane my head to look at the alarm clock: 10:42.

A little over six hours of sleep, then.

Fingers from one hand pinching at my eyes, the other’s curling around my phone, I trudged over to my dresser, and grabbed up a clean change of clothes.

------

With a towel wrapped around my waist, I stand in front of the small mirror that hangs above the bathroom sink. I press my palm against the humid glass and swipe away a patch of fog for me to see myself in.

Limp curls weighed down my excess water, purple bags clutching angrily at the skin under my eyes, softly curving smile lines, pronounced Adam’s Apple, broad shoulders.

I suck in a deep breath, steeling myself. Shakily, my fingers find purchase on my cell phone. Swiping through my contacts, I finally find the one I need and hold down until her number appears for dialing.

One last breath gives me the last nudge that I need, and I dial.

It rings three, four times, before it connects. Her voice is lively, greeting me enthusiastically. I swallow back bile and return the sentiment, pushing past my self-built barriers.

“What can I do for you today?” she asks.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” I explain.

“About what?”

“What you said. The other day at the café?” my words are unsteady, but the meaning is strong enough to make up for it. “Is there any room for me in your class at the YMCA?”

I can hear her delighted smile through the silence before she speaks. “My next class is today actually, at three. Meet me there and be ready to work, alright?”

I laugh shakily, nodding my head. “I’ll be there. Thank you, Miss C.”

It was by no means a leap, barely a shuffle along the path I was carving out for myself, but it was progress.

We hang up after a few more words, and I look back at myself in the mirror. Limp curls, purple bags, smile lines, a swell in my throat, broad shoulders. Nothing new, except for a glint in my eyes.

-----

“Penny,” I say for the fourth time, hoping this time she’d finally acknowledge my presence.

With wide eyes, she looked up from the book in front of her, pressing her finger into the crease of the pages to mark her page. “Hm?”

“I need something that says casually professional.”

“What?”

“Professional, yet casual.”

“For what?” she asks, squinting dubiously at me.

“Job,” I reply.

This catches her attention fully. She checks her page number before letting the book fall out of her lap as she sits up. “You’re leaving Ebb and Flow?” she frowns.

I smile proudly. “Nope, I’m meeting Miss C down at the YMCA,” punctuating the statement with a shrug.

“Simon please, you and I both know that you don’t need to take a beginner’s class.”

“I dunno Pen, she just told me to show up ready to work.”

She can tell there’s something more, that this is more important than just me attending a class. I think it finally clicks, because her eyes turn from curiosity to…something I can’t identify. Happiness? Understanding?

She eyes me, before nodding. “I’m proud of you, y’know that right? I don’t think I’ve ever told you just how proud I am of you.”

“Pen, don’t do this to me today.”

“Do what?” she asks with mock innocence, knowing exactly what she was doing. “I’m just so proud of you. We’ve been best friends since we were kids, and you’ve come so far.”

“Penny, stop it,” I hiss, feeling the tears prickle behind my eyes.

She grins wickedly. “Alright, I’ll stop. And as for your outfit, just make sure your shirt and pants are clean. Don’t wear your beat up pair of trainers, wear the new pair mum and dad got you that you still haven’t worn.”

“Thanks,” I laugh, turning on my heel.

“Mhmm. Love you, nerd.”

“Love you too, dork.”

-----

I spun in a slow circle, taking in street signs and landmarks.

Confession: I have no idea where the YMCA is.

I glance around again. I went there for swim lessons when I was eleven or so, I guess, but haven’t been back since. I should have looked up directions before I left the house.

I tug my phone out of my pocket, fingers poised to text Penny for directions, when an arm hooks through my own.

“You look a little lost,” a melodic voice observed.

I look down, making eye contact with the person. Miss C smiles back up at me, her gray hair swept back from her kind face with small barrette. She wore a pale blue dress, patterned with little, royal blue cats.

Sheepishly, I smile. “Yeah, I kinda forgot where I’m going,”

“You’re close, turn right here,” she pointed, her blue flats scuffing the sidewalk as she started walking, pulling me along with her.

“Simon,” she began, pulling me around another corner, which put us on a stretch of sidewalk that was familiar to me. “I have to say, I was surprised when I got your call.”

I smile, dodging a dog that was trotting along on its leash. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you’d say,” I laugh.

“I don’t want to assume or force anything on you, so I’ll ask: what does this mean for you?”

I tilt my head side to side, weighing my thoughts. “I just want to get a look at the inside of a classroom, y’know? See what it’s like, if it really is for me.”

She nods. “If you did decide to go to school after this, what do you want to come from it? What’s your dream job in the culinary world?”

“I like teaching…” I trailed as we paused before crossing the road.

“But?” she asked, already knowing it was coming, but wanting to beat me to the punch.

“I make instructional videos for a living right now, I know that I can’t do that forever, but I like knowing that I’m informing people and helping them learn something that makes me so happy. I just, I’ve never taught anyone face to face. I can edit out anything I don’t like with my videos, but you can’t do that in real life.”

“As an instructor for the culinary arts, I promise you that that is perfectly understandable, Simon. But you also can’t let that fear stop you from pursuing your passion.”

“I know,” I sigh, using my free hand to scratch the back of my neck.

Noticing my uncomfortableness, she politely changes the subject. “What branch are you thinking, would you like to stick with baking?”

“Definitely. I’m okay at cooking, but baking is what I love.”

“It’s good to know what you love, makes things a bit easier. Oh, here we are,” she tilts her head towards the building, and we enter, still arm in arm.

She greets the security guard working the front desk by name, before pulling down a hallway, towards what I suspected to be the classroom.

“Hey, so what exactly am I doing tod-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence before I was drug into a crowded classroom.

Everyone stopped their conversations near instantly, recognition sparking in more than a few faces.

“You’re my sous chef,” she beams, dropping my arm and making her way to the front of the room.

~ The Phone of Penelope Bunce ~

From: Winter Storm Simon

To: Me

leaving the YMCA now you home??

From: Me

@ the café one of my classmates is panicking about this test we have next week so we’re all helping him study

From: Winter Storm Simon

Thts awful nice, thought you lot hated each other

From: Me

He’s the resident Nice Kid, everyone loves him, 99% sure that at least half of these people would fight someone on his behalf, myself included

From: Winter Storm Simon

lol that makes more sense

From: Me

Howd it go w/ Miss C ?

From: Winter Storm Simon

PENNY IT WAS GREAT OK

I WAS HER SOUS CHEF

SHE LET ME TAKE OVER FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES (IT WAS A GR8 10 MINUTES)

ONE GIRL CAME UP TO ME @ THE END OF IT AND SAID

AND I QUOTE “Ive been coming to classes like these for years, you had a really great presence, and you could tell that you enjoyed what you were doing. basically, you did great and should totally consider doing this for a living, because I would pay good money to attend a class taught by someone with your enthusiasm”

PENNY I SWEAR I ALMOST C R I E D

From: Me

SO WHEN I SAY IT, IT GOES IN ONE EAR AND OUT THE OTHER, BUT WHEN SOME RANDOM GIRL SAYS IT, EVERYHTING CLICKS FOR YOU

K

I SEE YOU

I SEE HOW IT IS

jk jk that’s awesome Simon I’m so happy for you !!!!

From: Winter Storm Simon

Miss C just invited me back for her next class and one of the kids that was there overheard and got so excited ?????

AM I ALLOWED TO HUG RANDOM PPL, IS THAT AN OK THING TO DO

From: Me

Only if they say you can hug them, Simon

From: Winter Storm Simon

ok true

I gtg I’ll see you later

From: Me

K love you

From: Winter Storm Simon

Love you too

Chapter Text

Simon

Waking up to your alarm clock, while always awful, doesn’t compare to waking up to the blare of your phone’s ringtone, when you rarely get calls. Panic clutches at you easily, seizing your heart in its icy grip and squeezing until you’re gasping for breath.

Needless to say, when I woke up due to my phone crooning out some obscure 80s ringtone that Penny had programmed in after a night of celebration a year or two ago, my heart stopped.

My fingers fumbled through the early morning light, grasping at device like it was a life preserver. I clicked the button to answer, stuffing it between my shoulder and ear.

“Hello?” I croaked, not even bothering to check the caller I.D. .

“Hello, Simon. Hope I didn’t wake you,” they stated cheerfully – much too cheerful for the current ungodly hour.

I pulled the phone back to squint at the screen, even though I already knew who it was. “Miss C?” I asked.

“Mhmm,” she hummed. “Listen, I need you to do something for me.”

“Is everything alright? It’s,” I craned my neck to look over at my clock. “Not even seven,” I finished, blinking hard.

“Everything’s fine, spectacular even. My granddaughter, not the youngest one, the elder one? Her wife went into labor about half an hour ago, I’m on my way to the hospital now.”

“That’s great!” I said as enthusiastically as possible for a quarter to seven in the morning.

“Indeed, indeed. But, sufficed to say, I won’t be able to get to class today.”

“Yeah, of course. So you need me to get the word out then, yeah?” I asked around a roaring yawn.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of cancelling! Some of those students wait all week for this. No, no, I’m going to need you to take over class for the day.”

I bolt upright in my bed, eyes wide as I dumbly clutch my phone.

I’m up. I’m awake. What’s tiredness? Never heard of it before.

“What?” I wheezed.

“Relax, Simon, you’ll do just fine. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it were true. No, in fact, I’d call one of my students to do the whole thing. But I’m not, so obviously, I believe in you.”

“I’m so glad you believe in me,” I stated blandly. “Because that will definitely get me through a whole class.”

“Don’t get smart with me just because you’re scared. Do you remember what I told you? About not letting your fears control you?”

I sighed, before petulantly mumbling, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well here’s the perfect opportunity to prove me right. Class starts at the usual time.”

“Miss C, wait, I can’t teach a whole class by myself. You know I want to, really, I do, just… . Not yet. I’m not ready for that. ”

“Simon, Simon, Simon. One day you’ll learn to believe in yourself, darling. Whether you realize it or not, you are ready, and have been for some time. But I could tell you that until I’m blue in the face and it wouldn’t make one bit of a difference, you’ll have to figure it out for yourself. And I know how scary this is, so I went ahead and called in one of my students for back up.

“Her name’s Winnie, she’s a very sweet girl, you two should get along just fine. I texted you her number, so if at any point you decide that you don’t want to, or can’t, you have the option to back out. I won’t be upset, Simon, if I can promise you one thing it’s that. I’d never want to force you to do something that you’re uncomfortable with.”

I gnawed on my lip. “Thank-“

“Ah, ah, ah,” she tsked.

“I’ll do it.” I said, hiding a small, elated grin. I was terrified, of course, but there was a good sized part of me that was ecstatic.

“Wonderful. The day’s recipe is with Winnie, she’ll be waiting at our usual corner. Have fun.”

“Good luck with the whole great-grandkid thing,” I said, releasing a wild yawn.

“Thank you. Get some rest, you’ll need it.”

* * *

“Penny, I can’t do this. I physically cannot do this.”

I walked steadily toward the familiar corner, picking restlessly at the hem of my shirt. Half of my mind was steadily cheering me on, and excitedly thinking about all of the possibilities this could unlock.

The other half was…less than pleased, to say the least.

“Simon, just breathe, alright? Where are you now?”

I didn’t even have to look up to know. I slowly relayed my location to a patiently awaiting Penny.

“Alright, good. That’s really good, that means you’re almost there.”

“Penny what if they laugh at me? Or if they don’t wanna listen to me? What if-“

“Simon, what did you tell me to tell you if you started getting into the what ifs?” she asked, a knowing tone in her voice.

“To shut the hell up and keep walking.” I mumbled under my breath.

“That’s right. So, with all the love I have, I’m telling you to shut the hell up and keep walking.”

I keep the phone pressed against the side of my face so hard that it makes my ear ache, but it’s worth it to have Penny gently encouraging me along. Finally, I see the street sign I’m looking for.

“Okay, I’m at the corner. I’ll text you when we get there.” I huffed, trying to steel myself against the looming anxiety blooming in my stomach.

“Love you, you’re gonna do great.”

“Love you too.”

I stuff my phone back in my pocket, and aimlessly kick at a dried up leaf while I wait for Winnie. A few minutes later, I hear deep huffing, and then a hand is clasped around my forearm.

I turn to look, but am instead met with one finger a few inches away from my face, asking for a moment more. The girl that it’s attached to is speaking rapid-fire in a language I don’t fully comprehend. I took Spanish for a few years in school, so I can pick up a few of the words, but not enough.

She hangs up a second later, turning a sheepish, yet bright smile on me. “Sorry, sorry, my mom,” she winced. “My sister’s getting married soon, and I’m getting all kinds of phone calls.”

Her hair is in tight curls to her head, dark red roots giving way to a kind of teal-ish color. Her skin is a shade darker than mine, her cheeks and the bridge of her nose smattered with even darker freckles that shift about her face when she smiles. She’s pretty, kinda reminds me of a girl I dated around Year 9, but the simple band on her left hand tells me everything I need to know on that front.

“It’s fine, Winnie, right?” I asked, holding out my hand.

She takes my hand in a tight grip, shaking enthusiastically. “Winnifred Fernández, at your service.”

“Simon Snow,” I start.

“Oh yeah, I know who you are, I’ve been watching your videos for a year or so, I think. You do great work, I was excited when Miss C told me we’d be working together for the day. Oh, I hope that doesn’t make things weird, does that make things weird?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows together with concern.

I bring one of my hands back to scratch at my neck. “It’s a common enough occurrence, don’t worry about it.” I replied, giving her what I hoped was a comforting smile.

“Awesome, so you should be really happy with today’s recipe. I know that Miss C usually does like, savory foods, but she’s planned out a sort-of dessert for this week.”

“Oh, thank God,” I sighed. “What is it?”

“Blueberry muffins.”

I might cry. I just might do it. Right here, in the middle of this busy sidewalk, I won’t even worry about possibly falling into one of the many puddles from last night’s rain.

“Winnie, if I cry, will you judge me?”

She laughed loudly, it was started deep in her stomach, a throaty sound escaping her painted lips. “Honey, were you really that nervous?” she asks, trying to smother her laughter with her hands, whose nails are coated in a smooth coat of white polish.

“Yes,” I breathed, running my hands over my face. Muffins. I can do muffins. Blueberry muffins are even better, because they’re my younger siblings favorite, so I can practically make them in my sleep.

“No reason to be, you’ve got me, kiddo,” she winked, before turning to rustle through the bag slung at her side as we started walking.

“If you wanna look at it before we go in there, I’ll make sure you don’t run into anyone or anything,” she laughed, extracting a piece of paper.

One second, she was turning to hand me the paper, and the next, she was tumbling through the air. She let out a torrent of curse words in at least two different languages, though I thought I heard a bit of French in there too, before ever hitting the ground. I tried to catch her, my hands were already outstretched, but I wasn’t fast enough.

She hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through her hands and into her bent elbows. She grunted under the force, resting on her hands for two beats before pushing back up. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were focused as she inspected her hands.

“We’re good,” she nodded. “A couple small scrapes, but nothing major. I’ll clean them up when we get there, and then I’ll be fine for the rest of the day…” she tapered off suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked with a frown.

“Oh, seriously?!” she shouted, grounding the heel of one of her Oxfords into the ground.

“What?” I asked, even more lost than before.

“I dropped the recipe and it landed in that puddle,” she moaned, marching over to the offending puddle and picking up the sopping wet paper. The murky water had infused into the paper and caused the ink to bleed to the point of illegibility.

“We’ll figure it out, I mean, between the two of us, I’m sure we can remember a whole blueberry muffin recipe.”

“It’s not that I can’t remember a recipe, it’s because I’ll never know one that’s as good as that one! It was one of Miss C’s family recipes, passed down from her great, great, great grandmother. They were supposed to be amazing, like, out of this world, you’ve never tasted a muffin like this in your life and you never will again.”

“Oh. Look, hey, we can just text Miss C and ask her for it.”

“She told me she was cutting her phone off,” Winnie puffed.

Well, that could potentially pose a problem.

She huffed again, dropping the paper in the nearest waste basket, before reaching down to arrange her tights, which were patterned with small polka dots. Next, she set to fixing her dress, adjusting the seams, and setting the neckline right. “This is fine. This is absolutely fine. I’m sure that between the two of us, we can come up with something really good, you know?”

I nodded along, sensing the rhetoric nature of her ramble. She hiked her bag up on her shoulder, and motioned with her head for us to continue. We fell into step beside each other, and she filled the rest of the talk with small chit-chat – mostly about her sister’s impending wedding, and how her mother was in a constant state of distress over it.

“My sister is,” she paused, searching for the right word as we entered the YMCA. “Dramatic.”

“Gotcha.”

She laughed, swerving towards the bathrooms. “I love her to death, but that girl,” her eyes blew wide for comic effect.

I waited outside of the girl’s bathroom while she cleaned up her hands. When she exited, she was stuffing a small first aid kit into her bag.

“Better?” I asked.

“Yeah, but come on, otherwise we’re gonna be late.”

We threaded through the halls, taking a more direct route than I was used to taking with Miss C. We entered the classroom, which was filling up gradually with students. The girl that had complimented me the first class I attended waved enthusiastically before turning back to her conversation.

Taking our spots at the front of the classroom, we watched everyone chatter for only a second before trying to corral them.

“Hey!” Winnie shouted, but her words were washed away with the tide of words storming around the room.

She sighed under her breath, rolling her eyes as she pressed her fingers into her mouth, and let loose an ear piercing whistle. “Everyone to their station. Let’s go ahead and get started.”

Harsh scuffs of shoes against flooring sounded as everyone shuffled around, taking up their spots. Winnie clapped her hands together excitedly. “Alright. So, first thing’s first. Miss C couldn’t make it today, family emergency, and all that,” she noticed the looks of wonder and concern on a few faces.

“Don’t worry! Don’t worry!” she said, putting up two placating hands. “Everything’s okay. She actually gave me permission to let you lot know what was going on. As a few of you may know, her granddaughter’s wife is pregnant, due any day now. Well, that day is today, so she sent her best wishes, and knew that you would all understand.”

There was a small eruption of cheers, obviously people who had been with Miss C for a considerable amount of time.

“In her absence, she left behind myself, one of her students over at the University, Winnifred Fernández, and her sous chef for the past few classes, Simon Snow. Today, we’re gonna do a simple, quick recipe: blueberry muffins.”

I knew it was my turn to speak only because Winnie gently tapped the toe of her shoe against my calf. I inhaled sharply, wiped my palm on my pants, and pretended like I was just making another video.

“Miss C was kind enough to provide us with a family recipe, but, Winnie and I may have, possibly, dropped it in a rain puddle. But, with Winnie’s expertise and training, and my…years of trial and error,” this elicited a calming chuckle around the room. “I think we can put together something pretty tasty, so, shall we get started?”

* * *

I walked through the rows of stations, inspecting as each person stirred in the last couple ingredients. I corrected a few overzealous stirrers on the left side of the room, while Winnie demonstrated proper mixing techniques on the right. Together, Winnie and I made a pretty good team, if I did say so myself. Any time she noticed me struggling, she’d step in, effectively bringing all of the, frankly overwhelming, attention back to herself.

She commanded the room with grace, answering questions, no matter how trivial or significant. She’d make a fine instructor one day – she wanted to teach as well, though she focused on more savory foods.

I helped one boy, about sixteen or seventeen, I’d guess, whose sleeve was falling down as he stirred, before turning to give a look at a girl who was dipping her finger into her bowl of batter.

“Alright, you should all have everything stirred in by now!” Winnie called, hands tucked behind her back as she started for the front of the room.

I turned on my heel, and crossed the room quickly to stand at Winnie’s side.

“Last, but not least, the blueberries. The trick to working with frozen blueberries, like what we’ve got today, is to one, not thaw them.” I stated, grabbing up the blueberries. “They thaw quickly enough on their own, and you don’t want them to get mushy. The next thing is to take and roll them in flour. Keeps them from all sinking to the bottom of your batter.”

25 minutes of getting the muffins into the oven, idle chatter, and checking for any possible raw batter later, and we were wrapping up. A few people approached to compliment us, a few to ask questions, and then they all filed out, munching happily on the days crop.

Winnie bumped her hip against mine, a smile pulling at her lips. “You did really well today,” she stated.

“Thanks,” I replied, breathing a laugh.

“I’m serious, I could see how worried you were on the walk over, I remember that from my early years at Uni. My anxiety was, God, it was through the roof. I nearly dropped out, you know? But here I am, ready to graduate next year.”

I propped my elbows up on the station in front of me, peering at her under my lashes. “How’d you do it?” I asked.

“Make it through?”

I nodded.

“I had a great support system, couldn’t have done it without them.”

I took that in, locking it away for another day, because something about it felt…important.

“You know, Miss C told me that you were considering Uni.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding rough against my own ears.

“Look, I can already tell you’re a good guy, Simon. You ever need someone on your team, I’m here, okay? I’ve been through it, so I can give you pointers or something, I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah, I’ll be your cooking buddy. Cheering you on in the corner and all that good shit.”

I laughed loudly. “Thanks, Winnie.”

“No problem. Hey, what’re you doing now?”

“Might walk around or something, I dunno. Roommate’s got final exams all week, so I try to stay out as much as possible.”

“Wanna go get some coffee? Not like that, idiot,” she snorted, popping me on the back of my head. “Engaged, remember?” she asked, wiggling her hand in front of my face.

“How could I forget?” I asked jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, and come on. I’ll pay,” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the classroom.

“Good, ‘cause I’m flat broke and saving up for Uni.”

Chapter Text

~ The Phone of Simon Snow ~

From: Me

To: Pooh Bear

What recipe are we going for?

From: Pooh Bear

Uh, something simple, bc this is a beginners class, but also something a little more advanced, bc they’ve been beginner’s for a while

From: Me

That made no sense

From: Pooh Bear

Advanced Beginner

From: Me

Uh, brownies ??

From: Pooh Bear

Brownies are Easy

From: Me

I haven’t made brownies in like 6 yrs

The last time I made them I used a recipe that added chocolate hips

*chips

And I almost had to throw the pan out

From: Pooh Bear

I bet it was a boxed mix wasn’t it

And that’s why you use a throw-away pan

OOO OK I GOT IT

ALLERGEN FRIENDLY FOOD

IT’S NOT THAT HARD, BUT IT’S ALSO NOT THAT EASY

From: Me

OK BUT YES

I HAVENT DONE ALLERGEN FRIENDLY FOODS IN A WHILE

From: Pooh Bear

Hmm, sweet or savory?

From: Me

...Win

From: Pooh Bear

Right. I propose pumpkin chocolate chip muffins o h m y g o d they are heavenly

From: Me

Y E S

How allergen friendly are they ??

From: Pooh Bear

Gluten, egg, and milk free

Simon

The front door slams loud enough that it startles me out of my enthused recipe planning session with Winnie. We’ve been entrusted with Miss C’s class for another week while she spends time with her new great-grandson and helps her granddaughter and wife move into their new house.

I hear Penny toss her shoes against the wall, drop her bag on the floor, and start trudging towards the kitchen – which is where I’m settled.

She appeared seconds later in the doorway, the shadows under her eyes bold, the dark red of her messy, frazzled bun looking dull, rather than its usual shiny luster.

She eyes be over the rim of her glasses, before turning towards the fridge and pulling out her last slice of cake. I’ve been stress baking, trying to figure a few things out, and Penny’s been reaping the benefits.

“Hi?” I ask delicately as she grabs a fork from the silverware drawer and dips it into the cake.

She stops, cake halfway to her mouth, seemingly just noticing my presence – even though she just looked directly at me not 5 seconds before.

“Today I stood in the middle of a group of five sobbing twenty-somethings, who I have known for years, who just finished their end of the year exams. I was hugged so many times I lost count, experienced nostalgia, among other emotions, and may have cried. In short: Do not look at me, touch me, nor breathe in my direction. I’m going to go binge watch no less than three seasons of whatever I can get my hands on, and I’ll see you Monday.”

* * *

I didn’t see her until Monday. At least she’s true to her word, I guess.

It was nearing noon, which was about two hours later than Penny’s latest for weekdays. I was starting to worry, because I hadn’t seen her since that fateful Friday afternoon. After debating the pros and cons (pro: find out if she’s still alive / con: if she is, I might die my efforts) I decided to just go for it.

“Pen? You okay in there?” I asked, knocking gently on the door.

The door swung open to reveal Penny, clad in baggy, dark gray sweatpants, a black t-shirt emblazoned with the “The Penny’s Thoughts” logo and, her usually somewhat messy (“It’s not messy, Simon, it’s just in a state of constant distress, like me.”) room to be immaculate. This, however, was pretty normal. During the school year, ever since Year 9 I’d say, her room would be a disaster area during the school year, and sparkling during breaks and summer vacation.

“That was quick work,” I observed, stepping over the threshold to flip over onto her bed.

“I finished it last night, but before that I watched like, the first three seasons of Friends.”

“Again? Haven’t you watched it all the way through like six times?” I asked, grabbing one of Penny’s old embroidered throw pillows (this one with the saying “A woman’s place is in the revolution”) and stuck it under my head.

“Seven, on my eighth,” she corrected, plopping down in her plain white desk chair. She spun lazily, back and forth, back and forth, while she spoke.

“I wanted to get a short video up, a few announcements, the summer posting schedule, all that,” she sighed, grabbing a hairband off her desk – which was L-Shaped, and butted up to the wall in the corner – to pull her hair back out of her face.

“I’m in a funk though, I haven’t posted anything in like, a month, ‘cause I’ve been so busy with school, so now everything I record just feels wrong,” her tone, and facial expression, were sour as she adjusted her glasses with the tips of her fingers.

“You’ll get it, wanna go grab brunch and talk it over?” I asked hopefully, staring up at the ceiling.

“As long as you never use the word brunch again,” she snorted, standing up and stretching.

“It’s not breakfast, but it isn’t lunch: brunch.”

“Get out of my presence with this utter blasphemy,” she said darkly.

“Brunch, brunch, brunch, brunch, brunch!” I shouted, leaping up from her bed and bolting towards the door.

“Shut up!” she yelled through a laugh, chucking a pen at my head – which narrowly missed my ear by mere centimeters.

I peeked my head back around the doorframe, “Get ready, meet me at the door in ten.”

Five minutes later, we were stepping out of the apartment. Penny was tugging on a pair of sandals and adjusting the bottom on her sweatpants with one hand and dropping her keys and wallet into her pocket with the other.

* * *

“Alright, I’m gonna go Skype with Micah and try to get some work done, thanks for letting me talk everything over.”
“No problem, tell Micah I said ‘hey’.”

She nodded, before disappearing into her room with a click of the door, and a sudden burst of classical music.

I eased into the corner of the couch, grabbing my plain, black Moleskin off of the coffee table. I flipped through it, old video ideas and recipes littering the once crisp pages. It was my third one of its kind, the other two at the bottom of a box in the top of my closet.

I’ve been trying to post regularly, or about as regular as I can with work, prepping for the Con in a couple weeks, and now handling the cooking class. I kind of want to do another collab, but Penny’s been busy with finals, and now she has to work on her channel, so I can’t ask her.

It hits me a few minutes later, when I’m flipping through some old video ideas. I snatch my phone up, and scroll quickly through my contacts. I press the name, watching the screen light up with a picture of a yellow bear in a red t-shirt.

“Win,” I say, near breathless with excitement when she answers.

“Hello to you too, Simon.”

“Win, Winnie, Winner. What are you doing at this very moment?” I asked, jittering with excitement.

“Laundry?”

“And after that?”

“I’m gonna fold it, or maybe I’ll get a little wild and iron it before I fold it.”

I frowned, switching the phone from my right hand to my left. “That’s no fun, though?”

“It’s called being an adult, kiddo-“

I interjected with a quick, “You’re literally only like two years older than me?”

“Anyway,” she said, speaking over me. “What’s up?”

“Ok, firstly, what are your feelings about being on camera?”

She pondered my question for a second, humming a tune that sounded like elevator music under her breath. “I literally only talk about this when I’m drunk or with Dan,” she explained, referring to her significant other. “But I really love to be on camera. Once, when I was about eight, I guess, I was in a play adaption of ‘The Wizard of Oz’,” she laughed under her breath. “But I was like, tree number two, y’know? I only had once scene, and all I got to do was chuck Styrofoam apples at Dorothy. But I really loved the opportunity none-the-less, and would move around the stage wherever I could so I’d be on camera.”

“Please don’t tell me this is going where I think it’s going,” I snorted, covering my hand with my mouth.

“So we shuffle out onto the stage, and I accidentally peg Dorothy with an apple, just, right in the eye, I was trying to hit her in the knee, like we had been told to, but she tripped over ‘Toto’, so yeah, right in the eye. She’s fine, obviously, just a little shaken up, but has to be taken off stage for a minute. They tell the audience that they’ll resume in a minute or two, but I just, march right up to the front of the stage, and start reciting Dorothy’s lines! I’m still in my tree costume!”

“Winnie, ohmygod,” I wheezed, tears brimming at the corners of my eyes.

“The only footage is like, a shaky video that my Dad took. You can hear my Mother just, freaking out in the background, but my Dad is in tears from laughing so hard. Oh God, I think the only copy is a VHS, in all honesty. Anyway, to answer your question: I love being on camera, and to be honest, have wanted my own cooking show since I was a kid, but a lot of people in my life told me it wasn’t all that practical of a dream.”

“Winnifred Fernández, I’m here to kind of make that dream come true,”

“What?”

“How would you like to be a guest star on the next video for RedWingBakes?”

There was a sharp squeak, rustling, mild cursing, and then, “You don’t mess around with shit like this, Simon, are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Hell yes!” she yelped, a grin evident in her tone, then, “Oh shit, I’m so sorry ma’am!”

“Did you just offend someone at the Laundromat?”

“Possibly, anyway, when are we doing this?”

“Now, if you’re free, I’ll text you my address?”

“Awesome, I’ll see you once this load finishes.”

* * *

“I still can’t believe you did that to me,” Penny mumbled from her spot in the arm chair across from the couch, where she was curled up with the latest book she was reviewing.

“C’mon, you know it was hilarious.”

“I think you ruined chocolate for me, in all honesty.”

I snorted, hitting a few buttons on the keyboard of my laptop. “And people say I’m the dramatic one.”

She smirked, flipping to the next page. Her eyes lazily grazed the page, until they widened near comically behind her lenses. She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, as she flipped the next page, and the next.

She “hmphed” loudly, slamming the book shut and tossing it gently onto the coffee table.

“They kill your favorite character?” I asked knowingly, not even looking up from the screen in front of me.

“Yes, and I’m pissed,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and sinking even lower into the chair.

“Subject change to take your mind off of it: we need to start prepping for the WFC, it’s officially under two weeks away,” I said, pushing my reading glasses, which are only for when I’m on my computer, up my nose and rubbing at my eyes tiredly.

~ A short transcript from RedWingBakes video “Meme, Myself, and (WINN)I(E) ~

Simon: “Winnie, this is gonna taste like shit unless you put sugar in it”

Winnie: “It’s supposed to be a healthy alternative, it’s automatically gonna taste like shit”

Simon, later, whispering rather loudly: “OHDEARGOD THIS REALLY DOES TASTES LIKE SHIT”

Simon, yelling: “HEY PENNY, COME TRY THIS MILKSHAKE”

Penny: *appears, takes a milkshake, takes a sip*

Penny: SIMON WHAT THE *cuts to a clip of a puppy trying to say ‘I love you”*

~ Comments for RedWingBakes video “Meme, Myself, and (WINN)I(E)” ~

Winnie is so adorable and funny, I hope we’ll get to see her again!

-
Lmao Simon ily but Winnie is so Pure and Perfect and I need more of her in my life plz

-

IM SCREAMING SOMEONE PUT “It’s supposed to be a healthy alternative, it’s automatically gonna taste like shit” ON A TSHIRT I NEED IT

-

WINNIE AND SIMON TEAMING UP TO PRANK PENNY SO SHES IN ON THEIR PAIN LIKE IF YOU AGREE

-

Ok but does Winnie have a YouTube channel??

Chapter Text

Baz

“Baz, would you get off your lazy arse and start packing? We’ve got four days ‘til the Con and you haven’t even begun to think about packing.”

I sighed covertly under my breath, idly swiping through another page of tweets. “Yes, Mum.”

“Don’t patronize me, Basilton. The last appearance we went to, you forgot to pack shoes. Shoes! How do you forget to pack shoes?!” she rummaged through a pile of clothes, tugging a pair of knotted stockings out of the pile and wrestling them until they were unraveled.

She had practically transplanted her entire closet into the middle of the living room. She had pushed the two footstools out of the way and piled her clothes into a small mountain. Aside from hair, and lacrosse, and all of the other things she was completely amazing at: packing was Agatha’s true calling.

She could fit twenty complete outfits – accessories and shoes included – into three suitcases. I had seen it before on more than one occasion.

For appearances, she packed more outfits than humanly needed for one weekend, but honestly, I couldn’t say much. I once packed seven pairs of socks for a day and a half of appearances. When travelling, our motto seemed to be: Just in case.

“What are you gonna wear for the panel?” she asked, separating a pale pink, knee-length skirt, from a thigh-length, floral skirt. She ran her fingers over a particularly expensive looking dress.

“Where’d you get that one?” I hummed, eyes flicking from screen to gaze at the fabric.

“Thrift shop,” she smiled happily, sorting it into a pile that seemed to be for purple items.

“Colors?” she asked again.

“I dunno, Ags. Black, probably.”

She snapped the fingers on her left hand rapidly, pointing at me without even looking up. “What about a white button up with that tie, the teal-ish one with the white pattern on it-“ she mimed by dabbling her finger up and down her chest.

“Black slacks then, yeah? Or is khaki a little less formal?”

“Khaki,” we both agreed at the same time.

“Okay, if you wear that, then I can wear my teal dress, you know the one,” she muttered, grabbing for a pair of tan heels. “And these,” she added.

“Glad that’s planned,” I laughed, slumping farther into the arm chair I was inhabiting. “Seems like enough work for the day, don’t you think? Now I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Go get packed!” she yelled, tossing the nearest clothing item at me – which happened to be a violently violet sports bra.

“Cute, but I not really my color,” I teased, already hopping up from my chair before she could chuck a more harmful projectile my way.

"Oh, piss off!" she shouted after me.

I ducked off towards the kitchen, grabbing my bottle of water from the counter before backtracking back into the living room.

“I’m serious,” she grumbled. “I won’t have you waiting until the last minute, packing in a rush, and then forgetting shoes.”

“Quit bringing that up! I had on shoes!”

“You had on dingy bat slippers that were a size too small!”

“I got new shoes on the way there, it was fine! Besides, Mordelia gave me those slippers when she was younger, and kinder, I’d never get rid of them.”

Agatha opened her mouth to retort, clutching the chain of a necklace in her fist. She was cut off by the door handle rattling, and the door swinging open to reveal a tall, curvy brunette with a short smirk, and a familiar bone structure.

“Speak of the devil,” I muttered under my breath.

“Hey, Basil, Aggie,” she winked, sharp eyeliner showing itself against the skin of her lid.

“How’d you get in?” I asked through a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose harshly.

“You gave me a key the day I turned sixteen and told me if Daddy ever finally ran me off like he did to you, then there was always a place for me here,” she responded matter o’ factly, kicking her boots off at the door and padding into the living room.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “Agatha, we’ve got to change the locks.

“We’ll do nothing of the sort. Delia, you’re always welcome here.”

Mordelia pushed her bottom lip out, a stark line between the red lacquered onto her outer lip, and the flesh of the inside of her lip apparent. She tossed her arms around Agatha’s waist, drawing her into a hug. She buried her head into the crook of the blonde’s shoulder, Agatha patting her back soothingly.

“Agatha,” Mordelia wailed theatrically. “You’re the only good person in this house, the sister I never had, if you will.”

“Mordelia, we have two sisters,” I intoned.

“The non-bratty sister I never had.”

Laughter burst past my lips. “You should see her when they’re out of soy milk at the coffee shop.”

“Mordelia, you’ve been officially upgraded to my Favorite Grimm Sibling, effective immediately.”

“Nice,” Mordelia replied, pumping her fist in the air in triumph, while sticking her tongue out at me over Agatha’s shoulder.

They let go of each other, Mordelia making sure to shoot me a cheeky grin, before heading to the couch and flinging herself across it. She sprawled the length of her limbs – of which there was plenty, she was nearly eighteen and just 5 centimeters away from matching my considerable height – all over the place, leaving no room for another occupant.

She straightened out the black leather jacket on her shoulders, and pulled the plain gray t-shirt under that back down over her stomach, and the sparkling pendant in her bellybutton.

“So what’re you two up to?” Mordelia asked, pulling a pillow under her windblown curls.

I knew better than to press her as to why she was here in front of people, even if it was just Agatha, and Mordelia looked at her like another sister. She wouldn’t show up unannounced unless it was a family thing, and Mordelia, while one of the most outgoing people I know, preferred to keep any and all family-concerned issues within the family. She took the private in private life very seriously.

“I’m packing,” Agatha said, stressing the first word. “He, on the other hand,” she made a sound at the back of her throat, waving her hand at me.

“Naturally,” Mordelia chuckled, wiggling her toes in her socks. “What’s the holdup then, Basil?”

“I’ll get it done,” I said, pushing my bangs out of my face with bronze fingers whose fingernails bore chipped black polish.

She looked over my face, tilting her head sideways a couple of times. “I doubt it,” she finally pronounced, throwing her arms up over her head to stretch. She scratched gently at the stretch marks that curved up from under the waistband of her jeans and arced across her stomach.

“What a vote of confidence,” I snorted, locking my phone and sliding it onto the coffee table – which was now behind the armchair instead of in front of it, per Agatha’s living room reconstruction.

“Basil?”

“Yes, Mordelia?”

“You nervous yet?”

“For what? I’ve been to plenty of public appearances.”

She giggled childishly, the sound transported me back to years past, when she was a mischievous child and I was her target practice. It sent an acute wave of nausea through me.
“To meet, Snow, of course,” she grinned, running her tongue over her pearly white teeth.

Oh, and there’s the second wave of nausea. “I dunno what you’re talking about,” I muttered petulantly under my breath.

Agatha perked up at the mention of the curly-haired baker. “So that’s what this is about!” she yelled.

I felt the tick in my jaw before the girls saw it. I ground my teeth together, mumbling a few words under my breath as I stared at the ceiling under my dark brow.

“This is like your first crush all over again, shit, what was his name? Alex Schneider, wasn’t it?”

“Hey, Mordelia, how’s your love life going?!” I shouted at her over Agatha, sending her the deadliest glare I could manage. “Seeing anyone new?”

She grinned wickedly, knowing that I was trying to change the subject.

“The last major thing was that boy I dated for a bit back in November, you remember him, yeah? It wasn’t really jiving, though, so we went our separate ways. Currently, I’m attempting to woo this bloody gorgeous girl that works at this coffee shop ‘round the corner from my dorms.”

“Who says woo anymore?” I scoffed.

“Cram it, lover boy. I spilled, now it’s your turn. Do your knees go a little weak when you think about meeting him? A bit of butterflies in your tummy when you think about his eyes? You excited and nervous all at the same time?”

“Shut up, Mordelia,” I whined, closing my eyes, lips pouting nearly against my will.

“Just give me a straight answer, well, the straight part might be a bit hard for you,” she cackled. “But yeah, coupla’ answers and I’m done.”

“Sure, I’m nervous. I’m going to be surrounded my peers, some of which have been my idols for years. They’re all incredibly talented people, and I’m excited to get to meet them all.”

“Cute, but you’re still dodging,” she said, voice sing-song.

“I’ve had a crush on Simon Snow for years, he’s nice to look at and he’s funny and he bakes? Which is adorable? And yes, I’d like to kiss him, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’d taste like scones, which is really weird, but I don’t care! I don’t! Because I’ll get over it, y’know? I’ll meet a bloke one day, and we’ll click, and I won’t even remember Simon Snow’s bloody name,” I snarled savagely.

“So, yeah, I’m a little nervous to meet him, because he’s talented, and has freckles, and he’s really cute, but I don’t have a chance, and I’ve made my peace with that. I’m fine, it’s fine, really. So, if you two would kindly leave the subject alone, I’m going to go blare whatever music I can get my hands on, and pack,” I spat the last word, flinging myself out of the arm chair and stalking to my room.

I can hear them chattering lowly, even before I get my door closed. I know they mean well, and I know they worry about me, but in moments like this, when my hearts slamming against my ribcage, and my blood is rushing, hot and angry through my veins, I can’t find it in me to care.

I brushed my fingers through my hair, pulling it out of my eyes, and tying it back with the black hair tie that was always around my wrist. I surveyed my room, the walls were once painted a particularly flattering shade of blue, but it was soon covered with maps, a few coveted vinyls, and photos – mostly of Agatha and I, or Mordelia and I; there was one photo, of when I was child, my mother, with her sharp eyes and bright smile, holding me towards the sky above.

My bed was pushed into the far corner, pillows at what would be considered to be the foot of the bed, so I could see the sky at night. Stars were few and far between this close to civilization, but the moon was still there, oddly comforting. It reminded me of the stories my mother used to weave, I guess, about the moon, who was a lovely woman, her friends – the stars – and the love of her life – the sun.

Shaking my head, I crossed the room to my desk, and flipped through the crate of records that I had momentarily resting a top it. I had picked them up from thrift shops, usually after I had spent a while helping with (and partaking in) clothes shopping with Agatha.

I plucked an Arctic Monkeys record from the front of the basket, and unsheathed it. I gently dropped it onto the player, and let the needle fall. I shook my arms out, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Finally, I headed towards my closest, lugging my large suitcase down from the top of it.

I slid a couple shirts off of their hangers, and unclipped trousers from their hangers too. I found my teal tie, for the panel appearance, and found the shoes for the same thing. My closest wasn’t quite as neat as it could be, but it worked.

I rifled through buckets, grabbing socks and belts, other little garments I would need. A few tracks later, there was a gentle knock at my door, and then it opened. Agatha stood in the doorway, clothed in baggy pyjamas.

“Ooo, Fluorescent Adolescent, my favorite,” she grinned, padding over to my bed and falling onto it, singing the song softly under her breath.

“Wanna talk about it?” she finally asked, once the song was over, as I angrily folded trousers as smoothly as possible.

“No.”

“Cool. I talk, you listen.”

“What’s new?”

“I’d rather you not get snippy with me while you lick your wounds, throws off the whole speech I’ve got.”

“Ags, I love you, you know that, right? But listen when I say this: I’m not in the mood right now. Maybe later, but right now, I want to be alone, and I want to sulk. Just, give me this one teenage emo-phase flashback.”

“Ohoho, that was a terrible time for you. Remember the four month span where you tried to convince everyone you were a vampire?”

“Okay, we promised to never bring that up again, for one. And two, need I remind you that you went through one too? You died your hair seven shades of pink and purple, smudged your eyeliner, and signed off every text you sent with rawr and one of those faces that you make with a colon and a three.”

“Shit, that was…not a good time for either of us. Let’s just, never bring that one back up again.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. “Agreed. Now, Ags, what d’you want?”

She sat up, brushing her white-blonde locks behind her ears. “Look, I just wanted to tell you that I know you’re nervous, and apparently cynical, which really shouldn’t come as a surprise. But Baz, any guy would be beyond lucky to have you. You’re an absolutely amazing guy, you’re smart, and charming, and caring, and sometimes you have good jokes, like, forty percent of the time. Every person has their flaws, you, well, you’ve got your fair share,” she cracked a smile. “But you’ve never let them define you. I’ve had the immense pleasure to watch you grow from an insecure little boy into a man who is completely comfortable with himself and his identity, so I hate to see you like this.”

She stood, crossing the room to wrap her arms around me and pull me close. “You’ve been the best friend I ever could have asked for. You were with me through the tough stuff, keeping me upright when I couldn’t stand on my own, and you’ve been with me through the other stuff too. I’m talking crushes and relationships and breakups and everything in between. And now, it’s about time I return the favor.”

“It just feels weird, Agatha. I’ve been pining after this boy for years, isn’t it creepy? I feel creepy. I’m a creeper, that’s exactly what I am.” I had already resigned myself to the fact that I was some creepy Simon Snow creeper. That’d be a lot to fit on a name badge, but apparently, that’s who I am, and there’s no sense in lying about it.

She huffed a laugh under her breath, before taking my face in her hands. “Baz, you’re not a creeper. Being a creeper would be you like, finding out his address and showing up, that’s, wow that’s really creepy. You just wanna hold his hand and take him on coffee dates or whatever grossly romantic shit goes on in that head of yours. So, no, Basilton, you’re not a creeper, and you most certainly aren’t weird. They’re your feelings and they’re real and they’re valid.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That was surprisingly good, how long have you been practicing that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she grinned.

The door creaked open, I cast my eyes downwards, expecting to find the hellbeast, sorry, Lucy, at my threshold, but instead, I saw two sock clad feet.

“Still here then?” I called to Mordelia with a twinge of a smile.

“What did I just interrupt?” she muttered, looking between Agatha, who was still clasping my face, and myself.

“The best damn pep talk in the history of pep talks, come, join us,” Agatha beckoned, stretching an arm out to my sister.

“Pep talk? I’ve been told I’m great at those-“

“By who?”

“My cat-“

“Mordelia, you don’t have a cat-“

“You haven’t met Garbage Cat yet, but listen: Simon Snow is gonna realize what a damn catch you are the moment he sees you, and if not, then he doesn’t deserve you, and I will personally kick his ass for you.”

I’d have to ask about the cat situation later. I gave a surprised laugh, tossing my arm around her shoulders and pulling her into Agatha and I’s hug. She gave a yelp, not used to me initiating any physical contact that wouldn’t clearly end in us wrestling and her winning.

“I love you two.” I hummed into Mordelia’s hair.

Agatha replied with a, “Love you too, Baz.”

Mordelia, on the other hand, responded, “Well, that’s enough sibling bonding for the day,” and ducked out of the hug with a boisterous laugh.

I released Agatha, ruffled Mordelia’s hair just to hear her indignant squawk, and went back to packing, singing along to my favorite songs. Mordelia chimed in sometimes too, and Agatha could harmonize well enough, so it eventually ended with us bouncing around my cramped room, belting out the lyrics to 505 and laughing our arses off.

Chapter Text

Simon

“Have you got all of your chargers?” Penny asked frantically, crossing out items on the list written hastily across her hand-held whiteboard. She kept the full sized one in her room, pushed against the wall. When packing, she put everything she could think of on the big board and collected it over a series of a couple days, and on the small board, she wrote the things she would need to collect the day of.

“Phone charger, laptop charger, camera charger,” I nodded, pulling each from my bag to show her, and then immediately returning them to their respective places in my bag.

We’re driving to the Con, which is a few hours away, so we’re going to film the whole thing. We’re also going to try to document our days, hopefully we’ll be able to go out on the floor after the panel, plus all of the YouTubers will be on the same hotel floor, so we’re hoping to mingle and get a bit of video from that as well. It’s a common enough occurrence, where we’ll all be in such close quarters, a collab or two is bound to happen.

“Okay, chargers, electronics, have you got your house keys?” she asked, rattling her own set.

“Yes,” I responded, holding my key ring up and shaking it for emphasis.

“Alright, good, and I’ve got the car key…” she trailed moving down her list.

Neither of us have a car and instead of wasting money that could go towards food or rent or bills, Dad offered to let us borrow his car since he mostly works in his home office, and Mum needs her car to travel back and forth to work.

“And you told the neighbors that we’re going out of town, right?”

“Yes, Pen,” I sighed, plopping down on the couch.

“Okay, okay, I know, it’s tedious, but, Simon, I’d rather go over all of this three times than forget even one of these things. You’ve got your wallet, I.D., cash, all of that, yeah?”

I pulled my wallet out of my jean pocket and sifted through it. “Yep,” I responded, popping the p.

“And I’ve got mine. Glasses case, cleaning cloth, extra hair ties,” she continued to mutter stuff under her breath, so I assumed it was only stuff she needed.

“And you packed your outfit for the panel, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“And it’s clean? There aren’t any holes?”

“As promised.”

“Nice, alright, I think…” she double checked over her bag. “Yep, this’s everything, let’s get the bags and get going, I need coffee and some breakfast, but mostly coffee,” she called, slinging her bag on over her head, and rolling her suitcase to the door.

-----

As soon as we turned onto the main highway that we’d be travelling on for most of the trip, I settled the camera in the dash. Penny was driving there, and I’d be driving back, so it was mostly up to me to kick off the video.

“We aren’t in the kitchen this week,” I grinned, looking over at Penny, who was rolling her eyes. “Penny and I are starting out the first leg of our trip to, you guessed it, the Watford Fan Con. Penny, what’re you most excited for?”

She thought about it for a minute. “I’m excited to meet some of our fellow YouTubers, I’ve been watching most of them for years, so it’s gonna be great to finally meet some of them. And as always, I’m very excited to meet some fans!” she tapped out a beat on the steering wheel with her bitten-back nails as she merged into a new lane.

“I’m excited to meet some fans too, I always love to meet you guys, and this is the biggest gathering of you lot that I’ve ever had the pleasure of attending, so I’m really excited for this.”

My phone buzzed with a text message. I awkwardly finagled it out of my back pocket and unlocked it.

From: Pooh Bear

Lmao not to sound like too much of a Mom Friend but, actually, screw it, you’re my kiddo now: text me when you get there so ik you got there safe

From: Me

IM CHANGING YOUR NAME TO MAMA POOH BEAR ASDFGHJKL

From: Mama Pooh Bear

Don’t you d a r e

From: Me

screenshot.contactinfo

From: Mama Pooh Bear

I hope you get lost

From: Me

THAT’S NOT V NICE NOW IS IT MUM?

From: Mama Pooh Bear

I can’t deal with you

From: Me

Cool but also you should facetime me bc Pen & I are filming one of our travel vlogs and I’m abt to start doing car karaoke and you should electronically join in

From: Mama Pooh Bear

I AM SO IN OHMYGOD GIVE ME A MINUTE

Incoming FaceTime: Mama Pooh Bear

“Pen, it’s Winnie,” I said happily, answering the call. Winnie’s face appeared on the screen, the video scrunched in on the center of her face.

“Hey, guys,” she grinned, before pulling back a fair distance from the camera.

“Mmm, I don’t like this, whatever you two are planning-“ Penny shook her head. “Whatever it is, it isn’t good,” she frowned.

“Wanna listen to some music?” I asked Penny with an evil grin, turning my phone around so Winnie would be on camera.

“Ohhhh no,” Penny groaned. “Last time I let you do music, it was two hours of High School Musical, I mean, what the fuck, Simon? How do you even know all of the words to all three of the soundtracks, you’ve never even seen the movies,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Someone’s head isn’t in the game,” Winnie and I said in unison, only to turn to each other with surprised expressions.

“Electronic high five,” I said, to which she responded with a nod.

We pressed our palms to our respective cameras, turning each other’s screens completely black.

“You two are awful,” Penny hummed, reaching over to turn the radio up without thinking about it. What she didn’t realize, was that I had plugged my iPod in while she was getting coffee.

Admittedly, I could have queued up some current music, but there wasn’t as much fun in that. The last song was fading out, readying for the next song. Penny’s lips dipped at the corners, one eyebrow shooting upwards.

“No,” she stated blandly.

“Yes!” Winnie shouted through the phone, taking a deep, excited breath.

“Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!” I shouted.

Winnie grinned in response. “So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!”

We bounced back and forth off of each other, until, “Can you do it?” Winnie asked.

“Of course,” I replied, turning to Penny. “Come on, Pen.”

She sighed, “Fine.”

“So here’s a story from A-Z, you wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully: We got Win in the place who likes in your face, we got P like MC who likes it on a…” someone else popped onto my phone screen. “Ohhh!” I yelled, smiling so hard at Dan that my face hurt, before quickly continuing, “Easy D doesn’t come for free, they’re a real-“

I saw Penny out of the corner of my eye, bracing herself to sing out loud. The only person she really sang in front of was me, I think she maybe sang around Micah once or twice. Not even our parents had heard her sing.

“And as for me? Ha, you’ll see!” I sang, dreadfully off tune, before we all shouted at the top of our lungs, “Slam your body down and wind it all around!”

We finished out the song, and I was gearing up for another when Winnie and Dan announced that they had to go.

“Thanks for joining us,” I laughed.

“Text me when you get there!” Winnie called before the call cut out.

-----

“Alright, last night on Twitter I asked for some questions, to answer while we try to pass the time, let’s see what we’ve got,” I stated, scrolling through.

I flicked my eyes over the latest question and snorted.

“What is it?” Penny asked, her eyes flicking momentarily from the road to look at me.

“’Simon: When you hit 1 mil. it was revealed you were a pretty big GrimmLove fan are you looking forward to meeting Baz and/or Agatha???’”

She hiccupped a laugh, a soft rasp emitting from the back of her throat. “Absolutely amazing.”

“I hate you,” I grumbled. “And I’m not answering that.”

“Answer it or I’ll leave in the part where you freaked out over the goats when I edit.”

“Penelope Bunce, you’re a traitor.”

She grinned smugly, spinning the wheel gently to pull around a curve. “Well? Are you going to answer or will you instead be preparing yourself for the meme that will no doubt come from you yelling ‘Ohmygod, Penny, look at the little baby goats, they’re so tiny, ohmygod’?”

I frowned, weighing the pros and cons.

“I hope they’ll remix it to the beat of Gwen Stefani’s ‘Holla Back Girl’,” she murmured.

I positioned myself to look directly into the camera. “I’ve been subscribed to GrimmLove since they had thirty followers, so it’s been an absolute privilege to watch them grow into what they’ve now become. I’ve looked up to both Agatha and Baz for years, so I’m very excited, and honored, to sit in on the same panel.”

“Hmm, I think you’re forgetting the part where you-“ I scrambled towards the camera and shut it off before the next words left Penny’s tongue. “Confess your undying love for one, Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

“Penny, shut up!” I cried, swatting at her arm, fingers barely grazing the fabric of her t-shirt.

“Don’t swat at me, I’m driving!” she yelled, her left fist flying out and connecting harshly with my shoulder before I even saw her move.

“Penny!” I squawked. I pulled the strap of my tank top towards my neck and peeked down at the exposed skin of my shoulder.

“That’s exactly what I need, a bruise right before the biggest Con I’ll probably ever be invited to.”

“Oh, shut up. One, you’re gonna be fine, I didn’t hit you that hard, and if you are, there are at least two beauty vloggers on out floor, I’m sure they could help you out. Two, your career has nowhere near peaked, and you’re gonna be going to Cons for years to come, they’re gonna be so much bigger than the WFC-“

“Penny, it’s the most popular convention-“

“Around here, but there are other super popular conventions and you’re gonna go to all of them. Anyway! You’re dodging the conversation – like a pro, might I add.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Penny, honestly, I’d rather not talk about it, but I’ve avoided the whole topic for a surprisingly long time, and since we’re in a closed environment and you’re driving, I suspect that I won’t be able avoid it any longer,” my voice was bordering on hysteria with each syllable, but I couldn’t choke it back.

“Simon,” she whispered, slipping her hand into mine. She squeezed it tightly, “Your my brother, I may tease you, and I may give you hell, but I love you. If this makes you uncomfortable, or you just don’t want to talk about it, tell me right now and I’ll back off, okay?”

I squeezed her hand back, before letting it go so she could return it to the steering wheel. “It’s fine, really, all the shit I’ve given you over the years? Yeah, I’ve got a little payback coming.”

She grinned wickedly, “That’s true, you remember when I first started crushing on Micah?”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, but you’re together, and have been for over seven years, so really…” I trailed, searching for the right words. “This isn’t the same thing.”

“A crush is a crush is a crush, Simon. But in all seriousness…”

“It’s a crush, simple as that. I’m not holding out for anything, I don’t expect him to like, fall in love with me the moment he sees me and for us to ride off into the sunset. That’s not how the real world works, Pen. I learned that the hard way a long time ago.”

“If you’re comparing this to what I think you’re comparing this to, this is a completely different situation. For one, Baz is about as straight as a circle, so I don’t think that’s really an issue.”

I snorted deeply, pressing my hand over my mouth to try to force the sound back in.

“And that was just, that was a whole other situation. An outlier, if you will, that shouldn’t be counted in any real world situation.”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, I’ve learned my lesson before, I’ve gotten over it, and I’m not going to put myself through that again. I’ve been pining away for years after a boy that I’ve never met, that I’ve only ever seen in video, that the only time I’ve ever communicated with was in passing on Twitter. This doesn’t end like the fairytales.”

I sighed deeply. “We’ll probably pass each other a few times, maybe speak a couple of times, and possibly speak to each through indirect tweets on Twitter once or twice in the next five years to congratulate each other on follower milestones.”

“You’ve…put a lot of thought into this,” she muttered, eyebrows knitting together.

“I don’t sleep much, gives me a lot of time to mull over situations that may or may not ever happen.”

“Well, as…relatable as that is,” she said. “You’re gonna dazzle, just, absolutely charm the socks, maybe more, right off of him,” she said with an overly dramatic eyebrow waggle.

“Penny!” I laughed brightly. I knew that was all she wanted, was for me to laugh. I don’t particularly fancy the idea of spiraling into some deep hole of sadness right before one of the most important events of my career, either, so I let her humor seep into my bones.

“Shit! That’s not what I meant! Shit! Get your mind out of the gutter, Simon!” she yelled.

“Yeah, okay, sure,” I hummed.

“I meant like, his jacket, you know in the movies when someone’s all charming and takes their dates jacket for them, that’s, that’s what I meant you utter sicko. I was trying to like, paint a picture of you scoring a date with him and you had to go and make it weird,” she huffed loudly, her cheeks heating up.

I rested my temple against the window, residual laughter fluttering around my ribcage. “Give ‘em the ole razzle dazzle,” I muttered under my breath.

She laughed loudly, so hard that she snorted, which was a rarity, considering that she never laughed that hard. This, in turn, made me laugh, until we were driving along, wheezing with laughter, tears running down out faces.

I watched the scenery outside blend together, rushing past us in greens and pale pinks and oranges from the setting sun. I sighed and closed my eyes, too tired to even keep them open. “Wake me up when we get to the hotel?”

“Will do.”

Chapter Text

Baz

“I hope I remembered everything,” Agatha stated idly as she dropped her luggage into the boot of the car.

“You’ve got the important stuff, right? Phone, computer, camera, chargers, wallet,” I listed them off in quick succession, watching her as she patted certain pockets on one of her bags with each item.

“Check, got all of those, and that should be in my back pocket,” she patted her jeans, before slipping out a bi-fold leather wallet. “Got it. And you remembered your outfit for the panel, right?”

I nodded, pointing at the garment bag that was beside hers.

“Alrighty then,” she proclaimed, clapping her hands together. “That’s all the important stuff, we can manage without the rest.”

“Your mother would keel over if she ever knew that this is how you pack.”

“True, but she’ll never know, so it’s fine. I’ve just gotta run upstairs and check in on Lucy one more time. Oh, and I need to text Hannah and remind her that she agreed to take care of Lucy.”

“Hand me your phone and I’ll do it,”

“Here,” she tossed me her phone before zipping back into the building.

I scrolled through her contacts quickly, looking for Hannah Elaine’s contact information. She’s the goalie for Agatha’s lacrosse team, a sweet girl, I probably get along with her best out of all of the girls. Ever since a team mixer that I attended with Agatha a couple years back. Long story short: we both got a little tipsy and when she started hitting on me, I handled it…not exactly how sober me I would have wanted.

By that I mean when she asked, Agatha walked by and said, “Wrong tree, Han, he plays for the other team,” and Hannah, in her drunken state, asked, “What team?” and I blurted, rather loudly, “Wildcats!”

Not my proudest moment.

And now the whole team, and I mean the whole team, coaches, players, player’s families, call me Troy.

To: Hannah Banana

From: Me

It’s Basilton, Agatha wanted me to remind you that you agreed to watch after Lucy while we’re gone this weekend.

From: Hannah Banana

I’m on my way to pick her up now

Oh and y’all be safe, make good decisions

From: Me

No promises

“Okay, Lucy’s got food and water, she’ll be fine until Hannah gets here, which will be in…?” Agatha asked, bursting through the doors to our building.

“She’s on her way now, from her flat to here, it’s about, twenty minutes, give or take for traffic. The dog will be fine, but we will not,” I shook my sleeve up, revealing my watch. “We’ve still got what, a five hour drive? Six? It’s gonna be a whole new day before we get there.”

“It’ll be fine,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Who’s driving first?”

“You!” I called, tossing the keys at her and bolting for the passenger door.

I could feel her roll her eyes, even though I couldn’t actually see her. She grumbled under her breath as she slid into the driver’s seat, popping the keys into the ignition and cranking the car. She tugged her seat belt over her chest, and slammed the door shut.

She pulled out into the road, bypassing a SUV and a compact electric car. We passed familiar shop fronts – the thrift shop we frequented on a monthly basis, a music store I’d visit if I had some extra cash, Agatha’s favorite store to get her equipment from.

About an hour or so from home, we passed this absolutely fantastic coffee shop called Ebb and Flow. Any time either of us had to go on particularly long drives – usually to attend Agatha’s lacrosse games – we’d stop in and get a cup of coffee and one of the baked goods that they sold.

The baked goods…I nearly asked Agatha to pull in so we could grab something, but we were making poor time as is. Whoever supplied them with their food deserved awards, so many awards. There was this one strawberry cheesecake that I could eat twice my weight in…

“Ags, darling, intelligent, beautiful, Agatha-“

“Maybe if you had gotten out of bed earlier, Basilton. We can stop in on our way home.”

“But, Agatha,” I whined, tossing my head back against the head rest.

Was I being childish? Yes. But that was damn good cheesecake we just passed.

“You don’t think I want to turn around and eat like half of their inventory? I do, and then I want to get like three cups of coffee because I didn’t sleep for shit last night. But life isn’t fair and the world is cruel.”

“Funny, ‘world’ is a weird way to pronounce ‘Agatha’,” I mused, throwing my forearm behind my head.

“I am, I’m so cruel,” she confirmed, taking another turn.

I smirked, closing my eyes against the warm glow of the setting sun. She leaned over and turned the radio on, letting soft pop music trail through the speakers. “Are you gonna set up the camera so we can document this truly eventful journey?” she asked a couple minutes later.

“Mmm, sure,” I hummed, bending over to rifle through the bag positioned between my legs.

I pulled the camera out and propped it up on the dash, hitting the record button, before resting back against my seat. Agatha started talking, catching the soon-to-be viewers up on all the recent happenings.

I chimed in when I needed to, but let Agatha do most of the talking. I was tired, up half the night packing, and the other half tossing and turning. Not only is this one of the biggest appearances we’ve ever attended, but some of the other attendees are…

Anyway.

“Baz, didn’t you send out for some viewer submitted questions?” Agatha asked, dragging me out of a half sleep.

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” I muttered, fishing my phone out of my pocket.

I propped my phone up on my leg, and flicked with all of my might. As I waited for it to stop, I pulled my hair back out of my face.

Once done, I scrolled through a few more, sifting through the legitimate questions, the shitposts that could add some comic relief, and the tweets that just needed to be ignored all together due to crudeness about Agatha, or myself, or both, that I would secretly reply to later.

“That’s just bloody terrific,” I laughed, reading one question.

“What?” Agatha asked.

“’Back when @/RedWingBakes hit 1 mil he said he was a big GrimmLove fan how do you guys feel about the channel/Simon? Do you watch his videos?’” I quoted, running my tongue over my teeth.

Agatha gave a surprised laugh as we came to a slow stop at a stop sign. “Absolutely iconic,” she wheezed, drying fake tears from her eyes.

“Well, I’m not answering that one,” I said decisively, continuing to scroll.

“Oh no, you’ve got to, either answer it and keep it in the video, or I’m gonna-“

Hastily, I said, “On second thought, I’m gonna answer that question.”

I didn’t want to know the end of that threat.

“Well, let’s see,” I murmured. “Yes, we are subscribed to, and watch, RedWingBakes. Uh, we’ve never personally met Simon- Snow, Simon Snow, but we’re excited to hopefully interact at the Con, which, you know, is one of my favorite things about conventions, is that the YouTuber community is pretty close knit, and we all watch each other’s channels, but we’d never really get the chance to meet without these gatherings,” I continued to ramble for an embarrassingly long time, and, out of the corner of my eye, watch Agatha’s fine, pale eyebrows shoot farther and farther up her forehead in surprise and amusement, yet her eyes stay trained safely on the road.

I felt sick to my stomach when I finally stopped talking. Agatha reached over and patted my hand lovingly, “I’ll help you edit some of that out later,” she said with a small smile.

I grinned queasily, resting my head against the window.

“That sure was a tangent, you alright, hon’?” she asked some time later.

Pet names. She was trying to comfort me, which…well it oddly worked, probably due to the fact that it was such a common occurrence, that it felt familiar and safe.

“’M fine,” I muttered, waving my hand around for emphasis.

“Sure,” she snorted. “Just let me know if you wanna talk, we’ve still got a while.”

I nodded. “I don’t really want to talk right now.”

She opened her mouth to accept that and offer her listening services once more, but I began with a, “It’s just that-“

-----

It’s been a few hours since Agatha and I switched out. Now I’m behind the wheel, mostly because she hates driving after dark, but partly due to the fact that I woke up and was restless, which lead to me annoyingly bouncing my knee and tapping my fingers to the point that Agatha snapped at me.

The city of Watford, while highly populated, was surrounded by more countryside than I had seen since leaving home. It was nice, to actually be able to see the stars in the sky, not having to squint against light pollution in the hopes of peeking one, only to find out it was a plane all along.

The roads out here were long and narrow, with sharp turns and fewer potholes than in the big cities. It reminded me of when I first learned to drive, with my father in the passenger seat barking out orders and clutching at the emergency handle like it was a lifeboat and he was stranded in the middle of the ocean.

I had been a gangly, nervous wreck, going well under the speed limit, and trying desperately to meet my father’s incredibly high standards. I looked over to the passenger seat now.

Agatha had her cheek pressed against her hand, sleeping deeply. She’d let out a snuffle every now and again, or reposition herself to get more comfortable. I smiled gently, turning back to the road.

Agatha and I had known each other for so long that I didn’t remember a time without her. She was my best friend, the one person in the world I always knew I could trust. Images flashed in my mind, of young us scampering through the forest behind my family’s large mansion.

More…touchy memories surfaced. The day I came out to her, sobbing so hard that I could barely get the words out, her grabbing me fiercely and squeezing me tight, whispering reassurances in my ear, vowing to fuck anyone up that even looked at me funny. It had made me laugh, because I wasn’t used to hearing her curse so profusely, which was good, because soon after that I came out to my father, and my step-mother, and my home-life became strained.

I spent breaks at the Wellbelove’s, winter, spring, even summer. Agatha and I would hull up in her room and watch movies, we’d go outside and play catch, we’d talk until the sun came up, we were inseparable. And finally, the day I turned 18, I officially moved in with the Wellbelove’s, who for years had felt more like family than the one I was born into.

Agatha snuffled, rolling to the side. Her eyes slit open, looking at me groggily. “Love you,” she muttered, reaching out to pat my arm awkwardly, yet endearingly, before rolling to face the window.

I smiled, reaching over to turn the radio up two ticks. A song I was familiar with floated through the car, a gentle background hum. I felt the lyrics tickle at my throat, and maybe it’s because I was tired, or because Agatha was asleep, or a mixture of both, but I let myself follow along with the words.

My voice, when I actually tried to sing and didn’t just shout the lyrics in my bedroom with my best friend, sister, or both, was raspy. Sometimes its depth messed with me, because sometimes I forgot I wasn’t still that preteen with the high-pitched voice.

The glaring red of the taillights in front of us stood out starkly against the thick darkness surrounding us. As I spun the wheel to take us around a curve, a road sign popped up, apparently Watford was only 20 miles out.

As the chorus built up, my voice grew louder, not loud enough to stir Agatha, but just shy of it. Nearly 30 minutes later, I pulled the car into a parking space outside of our hotel.

“Ags,” I said gently, tapping her shoulder.

She started violently, pitching forward and nearly cracking her head on the dash. I tried to hold back my laughter as she squinted drowsily at me.

“C’mon, you can go back to sleep once we get checked in.”

She shook her head. “I’m hungry, won’t be able to go back to sleep anyways,” she shook her head again. “I’ll probably start on editing all the footage from today.”

“Alright, but come on, ‘cause we’ve still got to get checked in and get our bags up to our room.

“Grab the small bags, I’ll get the luggage, and you go on ahead and get us checked in.”

I nodded, grabbing up her R2-D2 knapsack, and my own backpack, which was printed with a continuous pattern of Pikachu, Bulbasaur, Eevee, and Charmander. There had been a sale and Agatha and I had unknowingly bought each other’s bags as gifts. She had always had a huge thing for Star Wars and I had been obsessed with Pokémon since I was a kid.

I slung one of them over each of my shoulders, careful not to jostle any of them important items in them too much, and set off towards the front doors.

Agatha

Tiredly, I zipped through the footage, watching the day progress in fast forward. My head swinging back and forth as I talked animatedly, Baz less enthusiastic for the first part of the drive, but eventually perking up.

I passed myself singing wildly, Baz and I talking, his small, hurried rant, and eventually we switched places and the light out turned to darkness.

He drove, and eventually, I fell asleep. He continued to talk, and finally, I got to the last thirty minutes of video. His hands beat out a rhythm on the steering wheel, and his lips moved along with the song on the radio.

I don’t think he realized that the camera was still running, because he was singing along heartily. I turned the volume up on my laptop, and put my second earbud in. I hadn’t heard him really sing since we were 16 or 17, and even then his voice had still been going through changes.

He wasn’t that bad, surprisingly, and he seemed pretty into it. But, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was watching something I shouldn’t be, so I made a quick copy of the file, and saved it to my laptop for a rainy day.

Chapter Text

Simon

“Rise and shiiiiiiine,” Penny sang brightly. I could already smell the faint residue of coffee and mint toothpaste on her breath. She had been busy, then.

“What time is it?” I groaned.

“Uh,” she stopped to, presumably, check the time. “A quarter to eight.”

“Why am I awake at a quarter to eight on a Saturday, Penelope?”

“Because you need to get up and get ready, so we can go explore! Meet some people, get breakfast, check out a bit of the Con before the panel.”

“Or, I could go back to sleep and wake up with just enough time to down a few waffles form the breakfast bar downstairs and run to the coliseum complex.”

“I feel,” she began dramatically, sprawling across me, and making a steeple with her fingers under her chin. “That you do this type of shit just to spite me.”

“And I feel like I want to go back to sleep.”

“Simon, Simon my love, my brother, my best friend, you’re getting your arse up right now. I’ll concede on a lot of things, but this one isn’t it. C’mon,” she patted me roughly through the covers, before bouncing a little on my legs, and slowly crawling out of my bed, making sure to “accidentally” step on feet and legs alike.

“Penny!” I yelped, pulling my shins toward my chest.

“Shh,” she soothed, patting the side of my face, before setting off to the other side of the room.

“Up and at ‘em!” she called one more time, stomping towards the bathroom and slamming the door for emphasis.

I groaned, but still rolled over and grabbed my phone. I flicked through the few notifications I had – comments, tweets, a few dms on Instagram (which I ignored because they were spam.)

I was in the middle of trying to catch a 78 CP Rattata – the only thing besides fucking Pidgeys and Zubats that I could catch without ever really having to do anything – when Penny rolled into bed beside me and curled up to my back.

Her hair was still wet from her shower, and it tickled just below the base of my neck. “The amount of heat you put off is staggering,” she observed, and I could feel her poking at the moles of my back with the sharp tips of her fingernails – a tactic she had been employing for over a decade.

“I’m getting up,” I muttered as the Rattata escaped from the fifth Pokéball I had thrown at it – its second escape – and dashed away.

I locked my phone, laying it face down on my nightstand, before swinging my legs around and pushing up off the bed.

She cried in triumph, rolling herself back out of the bed the way she had come. She stood and stretched, before plopping down at the desk in the corner, booting up her laptop, and pulling up Skype.

“Oh, and I’m gonna be the one who makes us late,” I muttered.

“You’ve still got to shower and all that, I’ve got time. Besides, I haven’t seen Micah in 8 months, so really, you should be glad I’m not constantly talking to him.”

True.

“Fine. Tell him I said hi, though.”

“Mhmm.”

* * *

“Micah sends his love, and says to (1.) Make sure you’ve brushed your teeth (2.) Don’t focus so hard on your breathing that you stumble and vice versa, and (3.) eye contact is key.”

I frowned, looking up from where I was buckling my belt. “What?”

She cocked her to the side, before smiling amusedly – if a bit smugly – and reaching out to pat my cheeks. “You’ll figure it out,” she winked.

I rolled my eyes, but resumed dressing. I looped the excess belt back through the first belt loop, and grabbed up my t-shirt from where it was hanging on the edge of the bed.
It was red, and soft like it had already been worn for years. Truth be told, I have had it for years, but the last time I wore it I was probably about two years younger.

“Aw, aren’t you looking sharp,” Penny cooed, pulling her hair up on top of her head in a high ponytail.

“Shut up,” I muttered, but secretly, I was a little pleased.

Her tongue stuck out of her grin as she hopped into her black, high-waisted jeans. She straightened out her top, a billowing, navy blue shirt. As I slipped my phone and wallet into my back pockets, she hunted for her shoes.

“Almost ready?” I asked, tugging on my sneakers.

She popped up from the other side of her bed, her ponytail bobbing back and forth. She had one shoe tucked under her arm, and another clasped in her hand, fingernails digging into it. “Found them,” she huffed, jumping to her feet.

“Have you seen my phone?” she asked, pulling one leg up to slip on her black ballet flat.

“Nightstand?”

“Right,” she hobbled over, somehow managing to pull on her other shoe and retrieve her phone without falling over. She pushed it into her back pocket, then turned a smile on me. “You ready?”

“We’re going to breakfast, right?”

She laughed loudly, “Yes, Simon.”

We headed towards the door, Penny extending her elbow to me. I looped my arm through hers, and pulled her out of the room. All the doors down the hall were open, people trailing through the narrow hallway, in and out of doors, clumping together to talk and laugh.

We passed all kinds of familiar faces in the hall, though the only place we’ve ever seen them before was on a screen. I think the most jarring thing about meeting people you’ve only ever – however indirectly – known on the internet is their actual height.

I mean, I had figured in my head what it would be like to stand beside them, but you never really know until you meet them.

A peppy, news-oriented vlogger named Vivienne came up to my ribs – her nose, when she hugged me, pressed into the bottom of my ribcage – she had laughed and, in a heavy Scottish accent, explained that it was the norm. One of the beauty vloggers, a guy named Iman, was taller than me by at least five inches, maybe even more – he had high-fived me and I had complimented him on his killer eyeshadow, which earned me a wink and pleased smile.

As Penny and I made our way even farther down the hall, we were stopped a few more times, we mingled, I swapped a couple of recipes, and we all made plans to meet back up again later that night to do a huge collaboration – which I was extremely excited for.

Eventually, I had to be pulled away from a travel vlogger named Naiya, because Penny and I were about to be late for breakfast, and just about everyone in the hall needed to start getting ready.

We opted for the stairs, knowing that because this was the closest hotel to the convention, the elevator would be crowded. Thankfully, we were only on the third floor, so it was a quick jog walk to ground floor, and subsequently, the breakfast buffet.

“You’re such a food buzzkill,” I grinned at Penny, as she picked up a banana.

“I’m going to be fresh and energized for the day and then I can eat anything I want later, but you…” she trailed, casting a judging eye at my stack of dry blueberry pancakes.

“Shhh,” I said, pressing my finger to her lips.

She swatted my hand away, grabbing a muffin and pulling me towards the coffee.

“Be honest,” I started. “How many cups of coffee have you had today?"

“Not nearly enough, considering the shit I’m going to have to deal with today,” she muttered under her breath as she took a sip from the steaming cup, before blanching and reaching for some creamer.

We tucked ourselves into the corner at a three seat table.

“There’s one with two chairs over there,” I said, pointing it out.

She shook her head, pulling the skin off of her banana. “Someone’s gonna use the third one.”

“Who?”

“I can mingle too, you know.”

I shrugged my shoulders, picking up my glass of orange juice and taking a sip off of it. I picked apart my pancakes – I only like syrup on banana or regular ones – and pop a piece in my mouth.

My back is to the buffet line, but Penny is facing it. She’s in the middle of pulling the wrapper off of her muffin when she perks up noticeably. She places her muffin back on the table, and brushes her hands off.

“Hey!” she smiled, getting out of her seat.

A pale hand deposited a plate piled high with thick waffles that were drowned in syrup onto the table top.

“Hi, love!” a familiar voice squealed, and I saw Penny go forward for a hug.

“You look gorgeous,” the voice continued, and it was only then did I recognize it.

Alright, so maybe I choked a little on my bite of pancake when she rounded the table. Maybe. She laughed loudly, her dimpled smile seeping warmth.

“Holy shit,” I breathed under my breath.

Agatha – because yes, it was, in fact, Agatha Wellbelove standing in front of me – laughed again, “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve wanted to meet you and hug you for ages, can I?”
My chair legs scraped against the tile, the sound probably amplified in my mind. She bounced excitedly, her heels clacking on the floor.

With the heels on, she was tall enough to hook her chin on my shoulder, I suspected that without the heels, her face would bury awkwardly into my chest like Penny when she hugged me. She smelled like floral perfume, sweet tones, but surprisingly not overwhelming.

“Shit, you’re tall,” she observed with a breathy laugh, smoothing out the front of her dress.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she added. “My best friend is six one, but every time I meet someone tall it makes me feel so short.”

Penny snorted, “If you took those heels off, you’d probably be able to rest your chin on the top of my head, I don’t want to hear it, Wellbelove.”

Agatha grinned, slipping into the seat in front of her drenched waffles.

“Won’t those be soggy by now?” Penny asked with a wrinkled nose as we both sat back down.

“Yeah, that’s the best part.”

I shot her a poorly-disguised look of disgust, popping a room temp pancake piece in my mouth.

“Ah, does the foodie of the table not approve?"

“I do not,” I agreed.

We lulled into silence, the clank of cutlery scraping across the white of our plates. Penny and Agatha eventually picked up a conversation, talking like they were life-long best friends who had been separated years before.

It was…surreal, to say the least. Here in front of me, is a girl who I feel like I’ve known for the past four or so years of my life, but this is the first time I’ve ever truly met her. And then just a couple feet over is my sister, my best friend, and she’s interacting with this girl.

“You’re pretty quiet over there, you okay?” Agatha asked, swiping up the very last of her impressive stack of waffles.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s just kinda weird, y’know?”

“I know! We met this amazing beauty vlogger this morning and I thought Baz was going to keel over, it was absolutely hilarious. Well, I guess I can’t really say anything, I stammered for a few seconds before blurting anything out.”

“You should have seen Penny when she met her favorite book vlogger that was the funniest shit I have ever seen, okay, she’s star struck for two seconds, and then she just launches into book talk.

“Listen,” Penny said to Agatha. “He was totally cool with it.”

We all started swapping stories, and it felt strangely…normal. Agatha fit right in with Penny and I. Usually, anytime we were around another person, it felt unsettling, like trying to stick a corner piece into the middle of the puzzle.

But Agatha worked. She was smart, funny, and easygoing, with a flare of sarcasm that worked like the missing cog to Penny and I’s well-oiled machine.

“Alright you two, I’ve got to go collect my best friend, who has probably fallen asleep again, even though I told him not to, and we’ve got to get over to the venue. You’ve got a ride, yeah?”

Penny nodded. “Yep.”

“Awesome. I will see you two later, it was so much fun to get to meet you guys, thank you for letting me barge in on your breakfast.”

“Thanks for coming! I told you Simon’d be absolutely shocked,” Penny smiled, pulling Agatha in for a hug goodbye.

Agatha brushed her intricate braid over her shoulder, swatting at the loose wisps, before hugging me one last time. “It was so nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too.”

As she walked away from us, a look passed over Penny’s face before she called, “Tell Baz we said hi, yeah?”

I shot her a wide-eyed looked, swatting at her shoulder. “Penny!”

She cackled loudly as Agatha yelled back, “Will do!” before disappearing around the corner.

“Penelope Bunce-“

“The look on your face was priceless, I’m gonna cry,” she swiped away fake tears – or maybe they were real, Penny’s a particularly evil person, apparently.

“Shut up, come on,” I muttered under my breath, pulling her towards the front doors.

She laughed, but followed dutifully, trotting along beside me. “I have to say, I’m proud. I thought there’d be a lot more cursing in the beginning, or that you’d hyperventilate, but you did really well.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I guess it was ‘cause it was Agatha, right? Gotta save the real shock for when you meet Basilton.”

“I know I have the coming, because I was really terrible to you about your crush on Micah, but like, do we have to do this?”

“Yes.”

I rolled my eyes, cursing silently under my breath. I was really in for it today.

Penny and I made our way out of the hotel, hands intertwined, swinging between us in an over exaggerated manner. We found the car after five minutes of debate and trying to recall pulling up to the hotel last night. Penny pushed me into the driver seat, declaring that I had to drive.

She tugged open the glovebox, pulling out the case for her phone that held an extra charge. She unclipped her regular case off of her phone – a scribbled font with one of her favorite book quotes – and slipped it into the new case.

Holding her hand out, she waited patiently for me to hand her my phone. I lifted up out of the seat, pulling my phone from my back pocket, and handing it to her. She unsnapped my phone out of its case – emblazoned with a RedWingBakes logo – and pressed it into the other case. She plopped it into the cup holder and settled back against her seat.

“Why am I driving if I don’t know where we’re going?"

“Take a left up here and then a right and then I think you’ll be able to figure it out from there."

I sighed half-heartedly, following her directions easily. I glided around the right turn she told me to take, and there, rising up in front of me, was a tall, startlingly white building. Flags flew at intervals, country flags and banners boasting the Con and all of its guests.

Finding parking was absolute hell, but we managed – not before having to walk what might have been an actual mile to the building. We passed all sorts of cosplayers: couples, friends, even families – I’ll admit I cooed over the little kids we passed in the parking lot, but listen, the little girl dressed like Rey was just badass. With her and her parents’ permission I actually got a picture with her, immediately sending it to Winnie.

I had promised to send Winnie updates throughout the day to let her know how things were going. In response, she sent a slightly blurry photo of her making an absolutely awful face while in line at the grocery store, Dan behind her paying the cashier, smiling.

As a follow up, she sent an even blurrier picture with the caption “this creepy old woman is giving me dirty looks I think she saw me take the picture shIT”.

I snorted a laugh, pushing my phone back into my pocket. I’d have to follow up on that later. We eventually made it inside, a burst of A/C washing over us for a blessed minute before all of the combined body heat of thousands of people stifled us.

After stumbling through security and squeezing past a sweaty guy dressed as some character whose name escaped me at the time, we were standing on the floor.
Penny grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I need a minute to soak it all in,” she whispered.

I counted to ten, slowly, before pulling on her hand, and setting off.

We passed by booths filled to the brim with comics, collectibles, clothing, jewelry, and assorted merchandise. It was overwhelming, there were sounds and smells everywhere, coming at you all at once, but it was the most blissful I had ever felt aside from when I was in the kitchen.

Penny and I took turns pulling each other to booth after booth, chatting animatedly with each owner. Penny ended up purchasing a book from these two teens that she said she’d review on her channel – we stayed at that booth longer than all of the others. And I bought a bracelet for Winnie – whose birthday was fast approaching – from this sweet older lady with faded tattoos encircling her forearms.

We were stopped a few times for photos, but I think we actually stopped more people. It was mostly kids that we stopped, because it was so cool to see them out there, and we wanted to give them appreciation, ‘cause we used to do this when we were younger and it always felt good to have people stop and take pictures with us.

My personal favorite was the trio of girls around thirteen with absolutely stunning Hermione, Luna, and Ginny cosplays; Hermione was a big fan of Penny, actually, it was really sweet because she started crying when she realized who Penny was – I, myself, got a high five from Luna, and a nervous wave from Ginny.

Eventually, Penny’s phone rang. I couldn’t identify the song, but I’m pretty sure I registered Adele’s voice before she answered the phone.

What’s up?” Penny asked.

The person on the other end responded, Penny bobbing her head along in silent acceptance. “Alright, we’ll be over there in a minute.”

She hung up after a few more formalities, before turning to me.

Who was that?"

Agatha,” she replied flippantly. “She said they’re setting up for the panel right now and that they’re gonna start calling for the first of us in ten minutes. So, we need to go ahead and start heading over there.”

“Shit, yeah, c’mon.”

Weaving through the crowd was easier than it had been when we first arrived. With a torrent of excuse mes and sorrys rolling off of our tongues, we made it to the correct stage in record time. We were ushered to one side of the stage with a group of familiar faces, just out of sight of the crowd.

The crowd.

You couldn’t see them, but you could hear them, feel their voices rattling around in your chest. All of a sudden, I couldn’t quit moving. I bounced on the balls of my feet and shook out my hands a dozen or so times.

Penny had ventured off a few minutes ago to find Agatha, I suspected she had run into someone she knew and wouldn’t be back for another few minutes.

Someone cleared their throat behind me, which drew my attention from the crowd of peers I was searching through. I turned slowly, and really, I wished I hadn’t turned at all.
Fuck.

“You’re…” I stammered, trying to regain control of my tongue.

He flicked a smirk at the corner of his lips, before unleashing a full grin. “Baz Pitch, pleasure to meet you,” he extended a hand, and it was all I could do to put my hand in his. “I’m, Snow, Simon, Simon Snow.”

He ran his painted nails through his hair, brushing back a chunk that had fallen in his eyes. “I know.”

Well shit.

He laughed, low in his chest, at what must have been the dumb look on my face. “You alright?”

“What? Yeah, it just, never gets any more normal meeting you guys. I mean, I’m a huge fan of your work, you do, just, fantastic work-“

Simon, you’re rambling, stop it ohmygod.

His smile turned gently, and I could feel my heart hammering in my ears. “Ah, I know, it’s weird, yeah? Meeting all these people that you’ve kinda known for years but never actually met in person?” he said.

“Exactly! Yes, exactly.”

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Ags and I love your channel, speaking of…” he trailed, flicking his eyes across the crowd. The charcoal gray of his pupils already popped from the thin line of black eyeliner he had applied, but now they sparked with recognition.

He whistled, garnering the attention of a blonde braid and red ponytail.

They squeezed through the crowd, Agatha swinging her arm around Baz’s shoulders – which was hard, because even with the heels, she still had to reach – and Penny grabbing my hand.

“Gang’s all here then,” Agatha said with significant look at Baz.

Penny said something, which lit a fire in Agatha, and they were back at it, bickering happily over something. Baz and I ended up pressed shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed over our respective chests, making observations to each other to try to keep the conversation flowing.

I wasn’t sure about him, but I was glad to make small talk. Small talk was easy, say a couple words, you don’t have to focus too hard on them, and it keeps you from making stupid comments about how hot nice people look, or how kissable their lips are, or how every single damn time they brush their hair back out of their eyes it drives you mad and you just want to run your fingers through it.

So yeah, small talk is fan-fucking¬tastic.

Five minutes or so later, a tall woman with a mic on her ear, and a clipboard in hand, started shuffling us out onto the stage.

She called for Iman, Vivienne, Naiya, then, “Agatha Wellbelove.”

Agatha pressed a kiss to Baz’s cheek, whispered something in his ear, and then was off.

“Penelope Bunce.”

Penny squeezed my hand before practically skipping on stage.

“Simon Snow."

I smiled awkwardly at Baz, which earned me another smile in return, and a wink. A bloody wink. Who did he think he was winking at me like that?

As I walked on stage, his smile (and wink) still fresh in my mind, my only thought was “I am totally fucked.”

And then he was the next person to walk on stage.

Chapter Text

Penny

See, one of my favorite things about Simon is his personality.

But one thing particularly great about his personality is that it’s a naturally flirtatious one. He doesn’t register it though, he just thinks he’s being friendly, so it’s not like it’s done with malicious intent or anything – and that’s what makes it enjoyable to watch.

Especially considering that it leads to some fucking hilarious situations.

For instance, the old women who come into Ebb and Flow practically swoon over him, which leads to them recounting “the old days” when their husbands swept them off their feet. Which gets Simon all flustered. Except for Shelley, who talks about you partner Gladys – I’m pretty sure they just want to adopt Simon (which gets him even more flustered.)

But apparently, the Simon Snow Charm doesn’t just work on sweet, little old ladies.

I’m sitting next to Simon, but I’m watching Baz. Blood is racing to his cheeks, so much so, that I’m sure if I were to sit next to him, I’d feel the radiating heat. He casts his eyes low, reaching out in a finely tuned and restrained motion for the glass of water in front of him.

I look over at Agatha, whose blue eyes are locked onto her best friend. I gently knock my knee against hers, shooting her a quick furrowed-brow look. She tilts her head to the side, motioning towards the side of the stage where we had waited to be called on. I nod, readjusting my glasses as I turn back to the beauty of a scene in front of me.

Simon’s winding down the story he’s been regaling to the crowd, and by the end of his spiel, I can recognize the look in Baz’s eyes.

The boy is completely smitten.

Baz

I know I’m blushing. That may possibly be the only thing I know for sure right now. I had held it back as long as possible, but when you sit beside your long-term crush only to find out that they have a generally flirtatious personality, you can only do so much.

And really, it doesn’t help if they spurt flirtation like they’re reading the fucking dictionary, like it’s the most common thing, like a discussion about the weather, or – I don’t know, I can’t think right now.

Simon bloody Snow, with his sunshine grin and bouncing curls – finally finishes his story, the plot of which I have completely missed – and it feels like heaven and hell all in one. The mic that’s passing from trembling hand to trembling hand in the crowd is passed to a young man with a deep stutter, who introduces himself as Mitchell. He addresses his question to Simon – like most of the questions that have been directed at our chunk of the table – after a flustered, awe-struck ramble.

His question (“Now that you’ve met everyone, who would you be most excited to work with?”) elicited a soft gasp from more than a few of the people at the table, but mostly the crowd.

“Shit – I mean, uh, shoot,” Simon gave a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Everyone at this table is fu-freaking amazing, so I’d be excited to work with any of them, y’know? But, I guess, if I have to choose,” his eyes slide over mine, and my breath hitches, but they keep going, after a weird look passes over them. “Agatha Wellbelove’s my girl.”

The crowd cheers, beauty and baking fans alike. Agatha pumps her fist, pushing her chair back to run over and wrap her arms around his neck. She dips her lips over to the microphone.

“I think I’ll require formalities, my dearest Simon,” she winks.

“Miss Wellbelove, darling, darling Agatha, would you do me the immense pleasure of collaborating with me, and probably my best friend – that one, right there –“ he points out Penny. “On the best collaboration the internet’s ever seen?”

“Of course Penny can join, but I’m a package deal, you know?” she grinned, and God, I’ve seen that grin before. That was the grin she gave me before she tried to get me a date to prom.

The finger she was pointing at me was merciful or damning, I hadn’t yet decided.

Simon turned his smile on me, and I decided a lot of things in that moment without even realizing it – save for yes, definitely merciful.

He leaned over, away from the mic, to whisper, “Am I supposed to call you ‘darling’ too?”

I buried my face in my hands, trying to play it off with a scoff and a muffled, “No, Snow, you do not have to call me ‘darling’,”

“Because I can if you want me to.”

“Don’t.”

I can hear Agatha laughing, and almost imagine the mirth twinkling behind her eyes.

“Ok, so,” Simon positions his mouth just over the microphone. “Baz, we’ve only just met,”

He’s so dramatic and I hate him, I think.

“But, I have to ask, would it be a terrible inconvenience-“

“Let me put these poor people out of their misery, Snow: yes, I’m in.”

I think Agatha cheered the loudest.

* * *

Agatha’s stumbling along beside me, clutching her stomach as she gleefully follows. “Shit, okay. I’ve got to find a bathroom before I piss myself, I’ll come find you,” she informs me, before brushing tears from her eyes and trailing off.

I almost rub my eyes, but Agatha nearly rubbed my eyelid raw this morning trying to do my eyeliner (“The wings are uneven, Basilton.”) so I’d rather not smudge it and have to relive that tragedy.

Someone sits beside me. It’s Iman, flicking through his Twitter feed, earbuds nestled neatly in his ears. Figuring that maybe that’ll help calm me down – or at least banish some of the quotes flittering through my head – I pull out my phone, slipping easily into my feed.

I resurface only a couple dozen tweets later. I guess escape isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be.

Penny

Agatha told me to wait outside the bathroom for her after we ran into each other – near literally. But it makes me feel really creepy, awkwardly scrolling through my phone while I wait for her to come out.

I’m getting ready to push off the wall and wait for her a bit farther down when the door swings open, and I register blonde hair and a familiar dress. She holds the door with her heel, crumpling the brown paper towel that had been between her hand and the door handle. With a scrunch of her eye, and a test flick of her wrist, she tosses it into the trashcan, and hoops in delight when she – I assume – makes it.

“Oh, hey, Penny,” she grins, removing her foot and letting the door swing closed.

“Hey,”

She hooks her arm through mine, and we set off, her heels clicking in time with the rhythmic scuff of my flats.

“So, I assume this is about…ah, our best friends, yeah?”

“I mean, I don’t personally know Baz, that’s kind of your department, y’know? But…”

“So you saw it too, then?” she hummed thoughtfully, twitching her head around to look over at me.

“I’d be able to see it from a mile away in the dark,” I replied.

She gave a wicked smile. “Practice makes perfect, I guess,” she grinned, bumping her hip against my own.

I frowned, furrowing my brows and looking up at her. “What?”

“Oh, come on, anyone with eyes just has to look at Simon when he sees Baz. It’s like a light bulb goes off,” she raises her free hand above her head and flicks her fingers outward. “’Ok, so that’s what been missing all my life’ I mean, it’s kind of disgusting to be honest, they look at each other like they hung the fucking moon and yet have spoken all of one hundred or so words to each other in person.”

“I know!” I shouted, my free hand flying wildly. “But, Simon, I love him, but he’s-“

“Oblivious?”

“Disastrously so,” I confirmed. “He’s really observant everywhere else in life, but romantically, it’s a no go. There was this one girl who had a crush on him for like three years and she asked him out – just the two of them, in the park, for a picnic – and when he got home and I asked him about it he literally had no idea what I was talking about. I had to explain to him that it was a date and not just a friendship thing.”

“But he was flirting that whole time he was on stage, with everyone! Like, I got a little giggly over it at one point and he wasn’t even talking to me.”

I shrugged. “That’s just his personality.”

“My poor Baz,” she laughed. “He’s so screwed.”

Later That Same Night – Simon

I could hear music, the lyrics were muffled, but the beat floated through the walls if you stood close enough to one of them – not enough to get the listener in trouble, but enough to be heard if you passed any of the walls. I looked down at myself, having changed out of my dressier panel clothes into a pair of faded jeans and a plain, charcoal gray, pocketed t-shirt.

“Pen, you ready yet?” I asked, peeking my head around the bathroom doorway.

She stood in front of the mirror, a handful of red hair in each hand, and bobby pins sticking out of her mouth. “Jus’ a minute,” she spoke around the hair accessories.

I nodded, watching as she somehow patted her hair down into a tightly secured bun on the top of her head. “It’s an art form,” she laughed, noticing my wide eyed stare.

She smoothed out her black t-shirt, one of my old ones she had “borrowed” and never returned, and slipped out of the bathroom, bumping into me good-naturedly, before grabbing up a chunky gray cardigan from the end of the bed.

“I actually remembered to set my Vans out earlier,” she explained, tugging a white sneaker onto each foot. “So you don’t have to wait for me to find my shoes, and we can actually get going.”

I grabbed my phone from where it had been resting, charging, and pushed it into my back pocket, along with my wallet – which was only in my possession because it held our room’s keycard.

Penny pulled the door behind us, and we immediately blended in with the people around us. Doors were open and all different genres – and languages – fell over open thresholds.

I stuck close to Penny once we made it more than two feet out of the door. We moved easily from door to door, mingling excitedly with everyone around us. People from the upper and lower floors – those that were there for other panels, mostly – had gravitated to the centralized location of our floor. There were just enough people that you bumped into a shoulder or two, but not so many that you felt like a sardine.

Eventually, we ended up in an unfamiliar room – that was still familiar, considering that all rooms looked the exact same – rubbing elbows with B-list T.V. celebrities. They soon left, off to find something to drink, and I realized whose room we had ended up in.

“What the fuck,” I stated, eyes sliding over a familiarly tall frame.

“What?” Penny asked, concerned. She looked up at me, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Penny, he’s wearing jeans, shit- fuck, no one has the right to look that good in jeans, what the fuck.”

She brought a fist up to her mouth, closing her eyes and exhaling deeply through her nose. I thought I heard an, “I didn’t get enough sleep last night to handle this shit,” before she righted herself, and pushed the sleeves of her oversized cardigan up her forearms.

“Simon, I love you dearly, y’know?”

I quirked an eyebrow. “’Course.”

“Good, great, so when I do what I’m about to do next, you’ll forgive me on the account that I love you, right?”

“Wait, what-“

Penny snatched up my hand, lacing our fingers tight so I couldn’t pull away. “This is also a little bit of payback for the whole Micah thing, you understand, of course,” she smiled as she expertly threaded us through the crowd.

With one short tug, we finally stood still, and our hands dropped to our respective sides. We were in front of Baz and Agatha, who stopped mid conversation to look up. Agatha greeted us the same way she smiled: brightly. Baz took a sip off of his drink, inclining the neck of his bottle once he has pulled it away from his lips. “Bunce, Snow,”

“Hey,” Penny smiled, but there was an off sort of sparkle in her eye that sent my stomach into a fit of knots.

I managed a nod, before turning to Penny. “Uh, Pen-“

She cut me off with a smile flashed in Agatha’s direction. “Hey, I had a couple of questions about that thing we were talking about earlier, can we talk?”

Baz shot Agatha a confused, almost accusing look.

“Geez, Baz, we’ve just been talking about quick hair and makeup looks she can do in like 5 or 10 minutes, calm down,” Agatha grinned, slipping away from Baz’s side, the bottom of her long dress caught up in her hand.

We watched them go, the last slivers of somewhat normal conversation that could transpire without immense and heavy awkwardness slipping away with light laughter and talks of one braid vs. two.

I gave a terse, awkward smile. “So…”

Penny

“I don’t meddle, I’m not a meddler, but this-“ I waved my hand in the direction of the two boys, trading words like secrets – only one or two, and never anything weighty. “I’m willing to nudge.”

Agatha snorts, resting her Achilles tendons delicately against the coffee table in front of the couch we’re positioned on.

Baz

Small talk is something my father taught me early on. Be polite, Basilton. Look them in the eye, Basilton. Respond to questions, but do not speak too much.

Of course I had amended certain parts of these rules he had drilled into me, but it didn’t matter now. Simon Snow was standing in front of me, and I couldn’t think of a damn word to say.

Well, I could think of a couple words, actually, but they were mostly, “You’re very attractive,” and “I’m very single.”

So really, no words. None. Nada. Zilch, zip, zero.

Finally, as I raise my drink to my lips, praying he can’t see my hands slightly shaking with nerves, I think of something.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He brightens at a prospect, though if it’s (a.) the chance to not awkwardly stand round, (b.) get something to drink, or (c.) to possibly get away from me, I’m not sure.

Simon

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks.

I almost sigh in relief, but instead I nod, latching onto this verbal olive branch. “What’ve you got?”

He nods over his shoulder – for me to follow, I realize – as he heads toward a mini fridge.

“Juice pouches or root beer, pick your poison,” he huffs a laugh, and I tentatively let myself crack a smile at the joke.

“Root beer’s fine.”

He grabs a bottle, the glass slick with condensation, and passes it to me, the wide end outstretched, and his fingers wrapped around the thin neck. Discreetly, I wipe my hand on my jeans before taking the bottle, fingertips passing over his in a millisecond of- something.

Baz

When he smiles in thanks I’m almost too wrapped up in the brush of fingertips that we just shared to acknowledge it with a curt nod.

We end up floating over to the wall, clasping our drinks ‘til the blood drains from our knuckles.

Conversation has always flown easily for me. Always. With businessmen my father’s age, with people my own age, with children. Cute boys had never been an exception.

Ever.

That one time when I was thirteen doesn’t count. In fact, nothing before the age of fourteen counts.

So, like I said, talking to boys had never been a problem.

Until, that is, Simon Snow came along. With his curls that looked like Rumpelstiltskin himself had spun them in his free time, and his eyes. His eyes. So they were blue, but here, in this lighting, they verged on black. And they held this sort of…inquisitiveness, flicking around my face each time I so much as twitched an eyebrow.

And all of these colors popped against his dark skin, which was spattered with freckles not unlike a canvas. In the back of my mind, I think I wouldn’t mind tracing them, seeing if any of them link up into a picture more beautiful than the boy in front of me.

Doubtful.

Finally, his lips – which are plump, and chapped at the edges – twitch, and I force myself to tune into whatever he’s saying.

Simon

An hour or so later, after most everyone has retreated back to their respective rooms, or to those of new friends where they’ll waste away the rest of the night talking, or recording the day’s events, Penny and I end up squashed together on a sofa that is in no way meant for more than three people, along with Baz and Agatha.

Penny is curled up in one crook of the couch, her back pushed against the arm, and her feet braced against my thigh. My legs are crossed under me, the only comfortable position I can find. Baz is next to me, long legs covered in soft cotton thrown out in front of him. He and Agatha had changed into their pjs probably half an hour ago. And speaking of Agatha, she somehow managed to sprawl herself across all three of us without us even noticing until it was too late.

She’s on her side, her head is in Baz’s lap, where he idly picks at her hair, taking the same small chunk of hair and twisting it into a braid, before undoing it, and starting all over again. Her legs are pulled upward, though her toes still tickle at Penny’s shins.

Camera in hand, she regales the day to future viewers, receiving snarky input from both Penny and Baz.

“I feel betrayed. Honestly, Penelope, I thought we were friends,” she wailed, throwing her wrist against her forehead dramatically.

Baz snorts around the water bottle he’s just lifted to his lips, causing small streams to dribble down his chin. He brings up the collar of his thin t-shirt, swiping them away as he complains to Agatha.

Penny makes a muttered comment, a smile playing at her lips. This sends Baz into a sarcastic fit, which leads to Agatha giving him a Look, and then breaking out key words from what I can only assume are embarrassing stories. Penny laughs, which earns her a Look from me, and a, “You’re a fine one to talk.”

Which then leads to Agatha begging for dirt on Penny, and Penny issuing some pretty creative threats, all to the soundtrack of Baz’s laughter, mixed with my own.

~ From the Twitter Feed of Baz Grimm Pitch~

@ thegrimmpitchreaper looked so good i m sc r e a m i jf

-

agatha and baz’s color scheme was more put together than my life wtf

-

y a l l we dont deserve the actual rays of sunshine that are simon snow penelope bunce baz gp and agatha Wellbelove

-

simon and baz had more intense eye contact game in a 2 hr span than ive had in my entire life ???

-

simon snow and baz grimm pitch are fcking “i met my idol” goals and honestly im thriving my skin is clear and my crops are flourishing

-

ok but like we’re all in agreement that agatha baz penny and simon are #squadgoals right?

Chapter Text

Simon

I tossed the rest of my things into my suitcase, piling shirts and pants on top of sneakers and toiletries. I zipped it shut with minimal effort, before setting to work on my backpack. Chargers, electronics, all slipped into their correct pockets and places – the only part of my packing that was even remotely organized.

I gently placed a gallon Ziploc baggie with the few items I had purchased at the very top of the bag. Penny was sweeping the room behind me, looking for any loose belongings that one would rather not lose hours from home.

“That’s everything,” she finally sighed, putting her hands on her hips.

Her hair was sprayed in the air like the ocean, single strands glowing faintly with sunlight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her hands in her sweatpants’ pockets. They were charcoal gray littered with black threading, scrunched at the ankles. Her shirt was white, a scooped neck revealing brown skin decorated by a sterling necklace she had bought on a whim.

“You wanna start heading downstairs then? We’ve still gotta get checked out and all.”

“And say goodbye,” she grinned, waggling her thick eyebrows.

“Shut up,” I muttered, slinging my bag over my shoulder and pulling up the handle on my suitcase.

“I didn’t even say who we needed to say goodbye to and you’re blushing!” she cackled.

“C’mon,” I replied breezily, stepping past her.

I could feel her smug smile as I crossed the threshold of what, for the weekend, had been our home away from home.

I dropped a knock on the door beside ours, a quick goodbye for Viv and Naiya that involved hugs and numbers being quickly exchanged, while Penny traveled ahead.

Iman and his roommate, Penny’s favorite booktuber – who I had met briefly once at the vending machine Friday night and for two seconds yesterday – was next to them. He had tucked Penny under his arm and they snapped a picture, muttering about books and a collaboration at some point in the future. Iman had already left so I stood idly by while they swapped numbers, fidgeting with my own phone.

We stopped outside of Baz and Agatha’s room, Penny’s hand raised to knock when the door swung open. A man, who was definitely not Baz, rolled a cart out, the wheels nipping at our toes as we backed away.

“Uh, sir?” Penny asked hesitantly.

“Yes, I’m housekeeping. The tall man and the blonde woman already left.”

They left.

Without saying goodbye.

It shouldn’t really create such a pang in my chest. We had all only met 24 hours earlier, but…still.

Penny frowned. “I didn’t even get their numbers?”

“I didn’t either,” I echoed.

She bit at her lip. “C’mon, let’s start making out way downstairs.”

And so we did.

Baz

I tapped at my phone, suitcase poised beside me, backpack slung over my shoulder. My face was startlingly devoid of make-up, which made my skin crawl just thinking about it, but it was Sunday, and I was tired.

Agatha’s hair was swept in a high, messy ponytail, some strands loose and falling over wide, thick rimmed glasses which were perched on her nose in place of usual contacts.

It was Sunday. Everyone deserved a break.

She was in a tank top, and for some God-awful reason, she had her team jacket pulled on over her shoulders, sleeves pushed up to her elbows. It was a bit big on her, so not her own, which meant she had accidentally swapped hers out with another girl’s in her locker room and was either too lazy to find out who, or hadn’t realized it yet. Jeans and sandals finished off the look, and honestly, I hated that she still looked gorgeous in the mash of seasonal wear.

She kept her eyes out, tapping nervously on the handle on her suitcase. “We didn’t miss them, did we?”

“Ags-“

“Oh! There they are!” she yelped excitedly.

I looked up to see Penny and Simon at the front desk. Penny was chatting with the receptionist and Simon was extending two long fingers with a room key balanced precariously between them.

They bid the receptionist their goodbyes and turned in our direction, heads bent together in soft, lazy conversations.

Penny was the first to look up, catching Agatha’s eyes first, and then mine. She beamed instantly. “You guys!”

Simon looked up from where he had been fiddling with his headphones, catching my eyes first and…keeping my gaze.

Huh.

He smiled grandly, finally prying his eyes from my face to see Agatha. “We thought you two had left without saying goodbye,” he admitted.

“We’d never!” Agatha gasped, completely scandalized.

“No, we wouldn’t. But Ags, you’re getting off topic and we need to be on the road in 15.”

“Right yeah, so obviously we want to swap numbers. One, because you two are infinitely cooler than previously predicted, which is hard, because we already knew that you were really cool, but also we’ve got that collab to do and as much as I love a good vague tweet here and there, planning is easier with direct contact.”

Simon opened his mouth, and I just know that something excusing and borderline self-deprecating is about to come out of those tooth-bitten lips.

“That’s okay, really, you don’t have to-“

Hm, I should have bet money on it.

“Oh, Simon,” Agatha smiled. “We were serious on the offer. So be quiet and hand me your phone.”

Simon

“But-“

“Listen, if he doesn’t want your number, that’s fine, but I do,” Penny piped up from beside me, holding out her phone – which was back in its regular quote-decorated case – to Agatha.

She laughed, taking the phone gladly and pattering out her number. She passed it back to Penny to add a contact name, and held out a hand for my phone.

I slipped it out of my pocket and handed it over, deciding not to question it anymore.

“I, for one, am personally offended by the lack of waffle emoji to put beside your name,” Penny said to Agatha.

I looked over her shoulder and down at her screen to see a text conversation open with the name “belove(d)” at the top with what looked to be pink roses decoration each side.

Agatha rapidly replied with a screenshot of Penny’s contact information, the name “Queen” followed by a little crown emoji.

I rolled my eyes, but focused on the phone that was being pushed into my hand. It was plain black with a white squiggly line running along it – which I was pretty sure was the logo to a band, I just couldn’t think of which one. I could only assume it belonged to Baz. If my hands shook a little more than usual, no one pointed it out. I handed the phone back to its owner, only to have him hand me my own phone.

I flicked through my contacts quickly, and there, within the first two letters, were both Agatha and Baz respectively.

“I accidentally deleted your number,” Agatha mumbled sheepishly, holding out a rose gold iPhone for me to take.

Quickly, I inputted my number again, before gently handing it back. She smiled. “Awesome. Everyone has everyone’s, yeah?”

Penny and I muttered ascent as we scrolled through our contact lists one more time.

“Okay,” Agatha smiled, expelling a breath. “We’ve got to get on the road. One of my teammates has been watching Lucy and I promised her we’d be back at a decent time today.”

“I met you like a day ago and I’m already gonna miss you,” Penny huffed, extending her arms for a hug.

Agatha swooped in first. “Don’t worry, I’ll text this week and we’ll start planning so we can work around school schedules and all that.”

They squeezed each other tightly one last time, then let go. Penny turned to Baz, who looked a little wary at the proposal of a hug.

Agatha brought me forward into her arms and we hugged tightly, rocking side to side.

I turned to Baz once she had released me, unsure of where to go, but definitely vetoing a hug. Awkwardly, I raised my hand and was rewarded with an equally uncomfortable high five.

We laughed, and he hiked his bag up his shoulder, hand hooked around the strap, and took up his suitcase handle before we ended up in another odd situation.

“Ags, you got everything?”

She sighed, looking over Penny and I one last time. “Do you think if I wished really hard we could fit them in our suitcase?”

Penny snorted deeply, a hand covering her nose and mouth instantly.

Baz rolled his eyes good naturedly. “You and I both know between the amount of clothing and hair products that totals between these bags they wouldn’t be able to breathe.”

“I know,” she groaned, shoulders sagging comically as she swung her bookbag over them and undid the handle on her suitcase.

“Bye guys, talk soon!” Agatha called, already rolling her bag away.

“Bye!” Penny and I shouted after them.

“Text and let us know you got home safely!” Agatha added.

“Same for you two!” I shouted back.

Penny and I laughed at each other, and I swung my arm around her shoulder. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to me. “I’d call this weekend a success, how about you?”

I tapped in her pin number and brought up the camera. “Definitely a success,” I agreed, pressing for a video.

“The weekend’s over, and we’re heading home. We had a great time, made some friends, and saw some amazing things!” Penny started.

“And we want to thank each and every one of you that came out, you guys truly made it all worthwhile!” I beamed.

I passed her phone back to her, and we began making our way to the hotel’s doors. It was a bittersweet moment, this weekend had been a whirlwind, but it had still been amazing. I was a little sad to leave it behind and head back home, but I was also feeling pretty good about it all.

I didn’t make a complete fool of myself at any point, especially not in front of Agatha and Baz (extra-especially in front of Baz) and I was heading home with multiple new friends.

We were a couple feet from the doors when we were stopped by a voice that tickled familiar at the back of my brain.

“Miss Bunce, Mister Snow!”

We turned at the sound of our names, eyes landing on a man clad in an olive polo. A pencil thin mustache coated his upper lip, and when he smiled, it nearly vanished. Almost a Gomez Addams type facial hair.

“Mister Mage?” Penny asked delicately.

“Oh, yes, excuse my manners. Davy Mage,” he extended his hand.

Penny took his hand in a tight, quick shake before it was my turn. He clasped my hand roughly, shaking vigorously. He beamed, yellow teeth jagged, but still cheerful.

“I apologize, I’ve been trying to make my rounds and thank everyone for coming out, but I’m afraid I’m running a little late,” he laughed, releasing my hand seconds too late.

Penny smiled. “It’s fine, it’s really nice to meet you, sir.”

“We should really be thanking you, sir,” I added. “This was a great opportunity and we’re super grateful.”

“Nonsense,” he waved his hand. “I’d love to talk more, but I’m sure the two of you have to get on the road. We were so glad that you elected to accept the invitation, and we hope to see you at future events.”

“We actually do have to get on the road, but we’re always up for more events,” Penny chuckled. “It was so nice to meet you Mister Mage.”

“And you too, Miss Bunce. And of course you, Mister Snow.”

His eyes swept over my face, scrutinizing my features in a way that wasn’t wholly comfortable.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes, and croaked out, “Safe travels.”

“Are you okay, Mister Mage?” I asked, reaching my hand out for his shoulder.

“Yes, of course,” he smiled, tears pricking at his eyes as he jerked his shoulder away. “Something in my throat,” he gestured, with a dismissing hand. “Have a nice trip.”

With that, he walked off, holding at his throat with one hand, while the other covered his mouth with a fist as he cleared it.

Penny turned a curious eyebrow on me. “Alrighty then. Let’s get going, you’re driving the first leg.”

~ The Phone of Penelope Bunce ~

5:36pm – 5:44pm

From: belove(d)

To: Me

We just got Lucy so we’re like 10 minutes out from home but I wanted to text bc I doubt Ill be any good once I see my bed

From: Me

Pics of the dog or it didn’t happen

To: Me

Lucy1.jpg

Lucy2.jpg

From: Me

Is she wearing a dog sized jersey

To: Me

…yes

From: Me

OHMYGOD

Wait I thought you said you were #21

To: Me

I am

That’s Hannah’s number

From: Me

Amazing

7:02pm – 7:07pm

To: belove(d)

It’s Simon, Penny threw her phone at me and told me to let you know we got home safe

To: Me

It’s Baz, Agatha’s asleep, but she’d kill me if I didn’t respond. Glad you got home safe, take it easy, Snow

From: Me

Yeah, you too, Baz

Chapter Text

Agatha

I pattered around the flat, grabbing a bowl of cereal on my way back to the living room. Baz was sprawled across couch, forearm across his eyes as he dozed somewhat peacefully.

He'd finally come down of the adrenaline rush from the Con about a day after we got back; sinking back into his day to day easily. He started picking up shifts at the music shop a couple blocks down the road, which he'd been doing for last year, but they hadn't scheduled him around the time of the Con.

He'd been restless around that time, the mash of nerves, and with nothing to do to take his mind off of things.…

The door rattled as a key was inserted and turned. I craned my neck from where I was positioned in the big armchair to greet our guest.

Mordelia had her eyebrows pinched together, muttering under her breath as she pulled the key from the lock.

"Hey, Delia," I smiled tiredly, adjusting the glasses on my face.

"Hey. Where's-"

"Sleeping," I muttered, waving a hand at the couch.

"Oh," she murmured, before shrugging and picking up Lucy, only to plop herself down on the floor by my feet.

"How've you been?" I asked.

"Good, work's, well, work," she laughed softly. "What about you?"

"Practice, practice, practice," I sighed fondly. "It's good to see the girls, but I didn't miss all the injuries."

"Have you already hurt yourself, Aggie?" she snorted.

"No, just a couple bruises, the usual. But we're down a player for now because one of the girls got herself injured playing in a charity game over the summer."

"What're you guys gonna do to fill that slot?"

"We've got it covered. Reserve players and all that, I'm just worried it'll throw off the team dynamic."

"You guys'll be fine."

"You gonna come to our first game? It's the- actually I can't remember what day it is, but I'll let you know. Might be a good place to bring a date," I grinned, nudging her with my knee.

"Ah yes, 'Hey, you wanna go see a bunch of girls play a sport with more brutal contact than you've ever seen in your life?' fantastic."

"You just don't wanna ask the girl you've been pining after," I cooed.

"One, shut up, two, and who might my brother be bringing, since it's such a great place for a date."

"Mordelia, I'm trying, honest to God," I hissed under my breath, low enough that only she'd be able to hear. "But they're so stubborn!"

"I haven't even talked to you two since the convention, how'd it go?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter and leaning in.

"Mordelia, if you want to pry into my affairs you're going to have to try harder than that," Baz called, stretching luxuriously.

"Damn," she muttered.

"Pleasure to see you too," he smirked.

"Well, since you're awake, how did it all go. And not just your personal affairs, which, I'm sure, were plenty entertaining."

"It went fine, the end," he stated seriously.

"Arse," Mordelia whispered under her breath before turning to me. "How'd it go, favorite elder sibling?"

"Short version: he left with a contact list that was bigger by multiple important contacts. Long version: Dear God where do I begin?"

"Hold on- you got his number and didn't tell me? Basil, what the hell?!"

"Here we go," he muttered.

"Have you texted him?"

"The day we left off of Agatha's phone."

Good, he'd realized there was no use in keeping secrets.

"What's he saved as in your phone?"

Even I didn't know that one.

"…Frosty, with a little snowman emoji beside it."

I huffed a snort of understanding and watched as Mordelia puzzled it out. "You pun loving fuck," she intoned under her breath.

"I didn't open up to be patronized," he reminded.

"Fair enough. When are you gonna text him off your own phone?"

"I'm not."

Now it was my turn to butt in. "Baz, c'mon, we made promises-"

"Oh, I never said I wasn't going to keep our promises. I'm simply saying that I won't initiate."

"Well what if he feels the same way and you two are locked in this weird stalemate when you could be kissing. Did you ever think about that, Basil?" Mordelia asked.

He snorted ruefully. "Yeah, okay. Simon Snow is currently pining after me but he's too scared to text me, so that's why he hasn't. Got it. Because the real world is an early 2000s romcom. I'm living a charmed life." The last sentence was grumbled under his breath, but Mordelia caught it, latching onto it like a dog.

"If your life is any romcom it's How to Lose a Guy in 10 Day, though I don't think you'll need the long," she bit back.

Oh, here we go.

"Well then you must be 13 Going on 30 since you seemingly know everything!"

"Why do you do this?!" Mordelia cried, flying to her feet, which jostled Lucy - who padded away grumbling under her breath.

"What? Please, Mordelia, enlighten me as to what I'm doing, because last I checked, we were just having a light conversation."

"You deflect and you self depricate and you just have a general air of 'I don't deserve anything good in life' and it makes me so mad, Basil!"

"Well I'm glad that you've got my innermost thought process down to a T, Mordelia!"

"I do because you're my brother! You're my best friend! I love our sisters but you know, you know we've always been the closest. And it hurts me so much to see you like this, because on the outside you're calmcoolcollected, but I can tell you aren't!"

"This doesn't have to have some deeper meaning! You always try to over analyze everything because you'd rather not deal with your own shit."

"Yeah, well at least I eventually get around to my problems! You've been shoving yours under the rug since you were old enough to recognize emotion. Because you think 'If I don't look at it, don't think about it, it'll go away' and y'know, that's Dad's fault. I should know because he tried to pass it on to me, did for a while. Remember me at 13, hell, 14? I had so much shit that I wouldn't let myself think about - let alone explore the possibility of - because I thought if I would just did like Dad did, deny, deny, denied, everything would be fine, and I wouldn't have to confront my own thoughts and feelings.

"But no matter the difference between our respecrive crisises, confronting it is still your best damn course of action. Baz, I love you, I want to see you happy. You've made a name for yourself, done so much, you've done that without Dad's help- don't give me that look, I know half all our siblings' issues are from shit Dad did, and you more than any of us."

She shook her head. "Just, think about it, please. I've known you my whole life, I know that a good, healthy relationship is something you've always wanted. And maybe Simon Snow isn't that guy, but, God, Baz, how are you ever going to know if you don't give anyone a damn chance? You're like a 14 year old me, you won't open yourself up to the possibility of exploring any experience that deviates from your norm, but if you'd just think it over/
…"

Mordelia had this way of knowing what Baz needed to hear, when he needed to hear it, how he needed to hear it. And usually, she was the only one who could finally get through his brain what everyone had been telling him.

He sighed, but cracked a wry smile. "I guess this is why you're the psych major, huh?"

She grinned. "Of course."

It was amazing how quickly they could shift gears. From gentle conversation to heartfelt yelling match to cracking jokes. It almost made me wish I had siblings, but then again, they already were like my brother and sister.

"Look," he said, taking her by the shoulders. "You're. You're right. Okay? You're right."

She grinned hopefully, opening her mouth to say something.

"This isn't me agreeing to any sort of major shift. But…I'll stop purposefully pushing possibly-romantically-inclined individuals who shall not be named away. I'm not gonna magically start hitting on any cute guy I come across, but I also won't shut them down if they initiate, alright?"

"That's great," she breathed, pulling him into her arms for a tight hug.

"I've got the perfect baby step for you," I piped up, eyes flicking across my phone.

"What?" he asked.

"Try not to ghost in the group chat."

"What group chat?"

I grinned wickedly. "You'll see."

Agatha added Baz, Penny, and Simon to the group

Agatha renamed the chat YT Squad

Agatha: hey nerds

Penny: rude

Simon: hi

Baz: i s2g if my phone ever starts buzzing at 2am with fucking memes im leaving this chat

Agatha: thats…oddly specific

Baz:(1.) bunce seems like a meme person (2.) agatha i have literally seen the gc for your lacrosse team that's some scary shit

Agatha: I cant belive youre calling penny out like this

And ok true the chat between the girls and i is it's own level of hell

Penny: im offended

Simon: you once laughed so hard at a meme that you woke me up

IT WAS ONE IN THE MORNING

Penny: s. H h hHH

Baz: #exposed

Agatha: i cant believe i just saw that roast with my own two eyes

Penny: why did you create this godforsaken group chat Wellbelove

Agatha: Right so anyway what do your schedules look like over the next month or so

Penny: school (E n d m e)

Simon: penny you were literally vibrating when we walked past the school supplies the other day

Agatha: damn penny simons coming for everything you own today

Penny: YOU COME AT ME LIKE THIS IN MY OWN HOME

Simon: WE'RE SITTING NEXT TO EACH OTHER ON OUR SHARED COUCH IN THE SHARED APARTMENT WE C O O W N

Baz: would you damn hellions focus on the subject at hand

Penny: "damn hellions"

Simon: Anyway i start my first semester at uni beginning of next month

Agatha: !!! simon that's great !!!

Baz: what program

Simon: …auto mechanics

Penny: w h a t

Simon: culinary baz what other program would i be going into

Agatha: simon is on a roll and i for one am proud

Baz:i was just asking so i could see what kind of class schedule we're all working with bc i know ags and my own and bunce's wasnt that hard to figure out

Agatha: youre surprisingly organized over this baz

Baz: someone has to be

Penny: we'd need a central location to meet up at though

also how tf did you figure out my schedule @ baz

Simon: what about ebb and flow im p sure ebb wouldnt mind as long as we got like a coffee or smthn each

Agatha: YOU MEAN THAT FUCKIGN AMAZINGN COFFEE SH O P

Simon: yeah

Baz: how do you know about that place

Simon: i work there ??

-----

"Holy fucking shit he's the cheesecake boy," Baz blurted.

"Cheesecake?" Mordelia frowned, looking up from her game of solitaire. She had decided to stick around for the rest of the day.

"The Ebb and Flow cheesecake," I supplied, watching Baz stare in awe at his phone.

"Baz, I'm sorry to say you can't have him. He's mine now. And I intend to keep him forever, in a nice cabin on the lake where he can make me cheesecake every day."

"Oh, like hell you are," Baz muttered.

-----

Agatha: im s h o o k

Simon: ???

Baz: you make the cheesecake dont you

Simon: yeah!

Agatha: any time any date just name it and our schedules are cleared

Penny: itd need to be a weekend for it to work for me tbh

Baz: same tbh

Agatha: saturday or sunday

Penny: Saturday

Baz: Saturday

Simon: Saturday

Agatha: 13th 20th or 27th

Penny: mmmm 20th

Simon: the 21st is mum's birthday p e n e l o p e

Penny: fUCK

Baz: Ags you have a game the 27th

Agatha: SH I T

Simon: so the 13th then ????

Penny: yeah

Agatha: ditto

Baz: ^^^

Simon: cool ill let ebb know tomorrow i think i get off at like 3 or 4 ill let one of you know

Agatha: therell be cheescake yeah?

Simon: you two only love me for my cheesecake

Agatha: objection

Penny: overruled

Agatha: i love simon bc he's a wonderful human being

And baz loves simon for different reasons dont you baz

Baz: yeah like bc he makes good cheesecake a g a t a

Simon: aw you guys :')

And by you guys i mean agatha

Shes the only in this gc that really loves me

@ agatha: ily

Agatha: aww babe ily too

Penny: AUFJSKD

HE Y

Agatha: shes just jealous of our unconditional and undying love for each other babe

Simon: ik babe ik

Baz: i think id rather the memes

Penny: i can arrange that

Baz: i will fukcinf le av e

Agatha: please do

Penny, bring on the pepes

Penny: ive got some great halloween ones

Simon: its July? ??

Baz: lets get sp oo k y

Penny: IM FUCSUFJD LOSIGNI T

Simon: so the 13th then??

Agatha see there bb

Simon: bye babe

Baz: im leaving this hell chat

Penny: dear god take me with you

-----

The Twitter of Penelope Bunce

Penny Bunce @ buncecake

This gc started not even 20 minutes ago they sicken me

Baz Grimm Pitch @ thegrimmpitchreaper retweeted Penny Bunce's photo "this gc started not ev…" DIS GUS TI N G

- Select Retweets and Related Tweets to the YT Squad GC tweet -

Retweet: yall wonder why i love them

Tweet: ok but agatha and simon would be hella cute together

Tweet: i logged off twitter for ONE D A Y and i come back to find #snowbelove im truly blessed

----

"So I posted that screenshot of our group chat like four hours ago and honestly the internet never fails," Penny cackled from the couch.

"What?" I called, my hands sunk into a cookie batter to send with Miss C to her grandaughter's.

"In just four hours, a relatively small portion of respective fandoms have decided that you and Agatha are dating."

"What?"

"Snowbelove is actually pretty eloquent and I'm pissed," she added.

I tugged my hands out of the cookie dough and rinsed them off as quick as possible in the sink, before rushing over to Penny.

She held her phone up in anticipation, the screen alight with tweets and subtweets and retweets.

I dried my hands off on my pants and took the phone, scrolling through an endless line of tweets under the hashtag Snowbelove.

"I can't believe it, my first shipping scandal."

"Though, it's with the wrong GrimmLove member, don't you think," Penny smirked.

Ignoring her, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, flicking through contacts. I clicked Agatha's, sending off a quick, "Will our children take your last name, my last name, or shall we just adopt the ship name?"

I was quickly replied to with a, "YOUVE SEEN IT TOO???" and then, "Personally, Snowbelove is a fine last name. Chauncey and Pear Snowbelove, just think about it."

"Chauncey and Pear," I gasped through a snort. "Her immediate response to fake kids are the names Chauncey and Pear."

"That sounds like a buddy-cop tv show. Chauncey's a hardened detective, Pear is fresh from the academy, they get partnered up to solve a gruesome crime spree - you know, I think you two really have something here."

-----

The cafe had been busy that day, more customers than usual filed in, lingered longer, purchased more.

I mean, I wasn't complaining, my tip jar was filling up with notes quickly.

Penny had been hunched in the back on The Couch working on an essay. She had explained, time and time again, she worked best with the background noise and a deadline like closing time.

I, however, had no idea how she could work through all the noise. Especially not on something like a paper. It took me three years and seven miracles to write my opening statement, but she was in the corner pounding out supporting statements for her thesis like it was no big deal.

We were closing early today, due to Ebb and Nico having some sort of family emergency they had to tend. I'm not entirely sure what it was about, Nico had gotten a call that morning on his cellphone, and 30 minutes later I was being handed the keys and told to close down as soon as my shift officially ended, and to lock up once me and my friends were done.

3 o'clock rolled around quicker than I thought it would, and before I knew it I was flipping around the "Sorry, we're closed sign" and heading to the cramped bathroom to change out of my uniform (which was caked in flour and the scent of cherries from the batch of scones I had to make this morning.)

I emerged from the bathroom less flour-y but still smelling of cherries, which, all-in-all, not a bad trade off. I brushed my curls back out of my eyes, and flopped onto The Couch beside Penny.

"How's it?" I asked, nodding at her laptop.

"200 more words and then I'm home free."

"Alright," I replied, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

Two unread messages, one from Agatha - whose contact name had since been changed to "Wellb(a)elove" due to what was now referred to as the "group chat romance" - and one from Baz - saved as "Bazaar" with a violin emoji because of a very unfortunate group chat moment that I'm never allowed to speak of again.

"They should be here any minute, 'cause Baz texted me 10 minutes ago and they were about 10 minutes out," I said.

Penny hummed ascent, which I took without complaint. I knew better than to expect a full sentence when she was writing.

A few minutes later, she violently hit the period key and slumped back into her cushion. "Done."

I looked down at the time on my phone. "Not bad, still not as great as the freshman paper, but still good."

"I don't think I'll ever beat that paper, Simon. 25% of my grade produced in an 8 hour caffeine induced adrenaline high," she sighed. "And I still got a 92 on it."

"I remember, you ran into my room at six in the morning screaming about it."

"A 92 Simon, that's-"

The bell above the door chimed and I pushed up off the chair in time with it, making sure it was the right people.

"Lock the door behind you," I called, running my fingers through my hair.

"That sounds creepy as hell, Snow," Agatha called from the door, where she was flicking the lock.

"Took you two long enough," Penny huffed playfully, holding her arms out for a hug.

Agatha swooped in like an eagle on prey, squeezing Penny tightly. "We've been messaging ever since we met, but I missed you two," Agatha grinned, spinning out of Penny's grip and into my own.

Penny and Baz shared a short fist bump, and I awkwardly stood by, trying to figure out which way of greeting was acceptable for me to go with.

Luckily, he gave me a soft smile and waved a hello before ghosting after Agatha.

I sighed inwardly, before taking a deep breath and turning on my heel.

"Alright you three," I called, heading towards the counter.

"I like where this is headed," Penny replied, shoving her laptop into her case and resting it beside her purse in one of the corners of The Couch.

Agatha dropped her bag in the other corner, taking Baz's laptop case and setting it with the former. They all trailed over to the counter, lining up with their elbows on the counter and staring at me hopefully.

"I may have made some treats on my own time," I explained, pulling a faux tray from under the counter.

"Wha, uh, what are those?" Agatha asked.

"Mini chocolate chip scones," I said brightly. "Something new I'm trying out."

They were trying to not look disappointed, and it was almost too sad to laugh at. Almost.

Chuckling, I pulled out another tray. "I think this is what you guys were looking for?" I asked with a grin.

In front of them rested a tray of two dozen strawberry cheesecake cupcakes.

The first one to reach for one was Baz. Golden brown fingers latched onto one and pulled it close. "So do you bake them without a paper liner, or do you just peel it off to serve?" he asked, inspecting it.

"Without. I learned years ago how to do it where nothing sticks to the pan."

He nodded, taking a bite off of the edge. I watched the three faces in front of me, waiting for reactions.

Agatha and Penny slammed their hands down at the same time. "These are fucking amazing," Agatha declared, as Penny nodded through another bite.

Baz

"Honestly just marry me already," I murmured.

I'll admit the moment the words left my mouth I realized that they were a lot louder than I thought they would be. Hell, I didn't even mean for them to get blurted out in the first place.

He grinned, and it was a lot more wolfish than it had any right to be.

He leaned over, copying my stance. "That an offer?" he asked.

Spluttering. "N-no!"

Cheeks red. Gulping. Extreme embarrassment. That's how I'd categorize this visit so far.

He laughed and stole the strawberry off the top of my cupcake, popping it between his lips before I could even utter a syllable of protest.

"So are we gonna get this show on the road or what?" he asked, grabbing the tray and leading us over to a sitting area.

Chapter Text

Simon

The rest of August flew by in a whirlwind. We visited our parents the next weekend for Mum's birthday, where we were interrogated in the kindest possible way about work, school, our channels, and most notably: love lives.

Penny, luckily, kept most of the attention off of me with talks of Micah who was practically the golden boy of our family. Mum adored him and Dad considered him another of the sizeable Bunce family flock.

But luck runs out eventually and later that night Mum came into my room to ask - subtley - how things were going on the significant other front. The thing is, Mum is terrible at subtley.

"Nothing new, I'm trying to focus on work and school starting soon, all that."

She had sighed covertly, folding her hands in her lap. "No one you're interested in, then?"

Yes.

"Nope."

"That's a shame 'cause me and your father watched your videos from the Watford Convention."

Damn.

"Mum," I muttered.

She held her hands up. "All I'm saying is that combined with what we've talk about, you seem a little taken with the Grimm-Pitch boy."

I can't stand lying to my mother. Even little white lies; it just isn't compatible with my morals.

And since Penny isn't here to tease me…what the hell, I'd told my mother more embarrassing things.

"I wouldn't say I'm taken, per se," I mumbled, lying back against my pillows.

She raised her eyebrows. "Who've you been texting all weekend?"

Baz.

Sort of.

"I'm in a group chat, Penny and Agatha are a part of it too, y'know."

"So you haven't been texting him one on one and hiding your phone screen from your sister when you answer his messages so she doesn't tease you?"

"You're exceptional at your job."

"Someone has to be," she smiled, brushing a hand over my curls. "So, are you two 'talking'," she put the actual air quotes around the word.

God, I love her.

"No. We just talk. I kind of haven't gotten up the courage to go for anything above friendship."

"Honey, that's okay," she murmured, noting the tone of my voice. "When it comes to matters of the heart, you have to follow your own timeline, okay? Never rush the process."

"He's just, he's-" Why couldn't words be my thing? It would make life so much easier.

She smiled gently, a little giddy. "Go on."

"He's really great? Just. Great. He's great. And I like talking to him. We bicker, but, it's not mean. And we can talk for hours and you know, you know how much I hate talking. The other day he let me talk about biscuit recipes for 45 minutes because Penny was out and I couldn't get ahold of Winnie. But that's a friend thing right? Like, I let Penny talk to me about books even though I don't personally enjoy them as much as she does and-"

"Slow down, Simon," she smiled. "Just, take a breath."

"I honestly really enjoy having him as a friend, but he makes me happy in this way that isn't entirely friendship motivated."

"I'm gonna tell you something, and you may not like it."

"Okay?"

"You rush into things. Head first, you dive right in without considering the consequences because you're an emotional thinker."

"This is the opposite of-"

"Let me finish. The one thing I've never seen you rush into is a relationship. Platonic or otherwise. I watched you and Penny when you were kids, even then you hung back. When we first adopted you, you pulled back. Your first girlfriend, or boyfriend, for that matter. You always hung back, making sure to protect not only your heart, but those of the ones around you. So, seeing you like this, I know it isn't some rash decision, which is why I can tell you this: my darling Simon, go after him. I've always told you to follow what makes your heart sing, haven't I? And if he makes you feel that way, then he must be special because you never let that happen unless that person is worth it."

She gathered me up in her arms, punctuating the statement with a kiss to the top of my head and an, "I love you."

"Love you too, Mum. And…thank you."

"I expect you to have a date for at least one holiday dinner this year," she chuckled.

The thought of bringing someone felt nice. And maybe I'd let myself think it over.

Maybe.

-----

September began the same way August ended: with school.

I was happily throwing myself into my studies. It was stressful, sure, but in a refreshing way.

Plus, Winnie had decided to take me under her wing. She was in her final year, but we still carved out time to meet up and talk. She had had most of my current professors at one point or another, and gave me tips on how to stay in their good graces, too.

She also made sure to check up on me: How are you feeling? You're not pushing yourself too hard? Etc. Etc.

It actually, wasn't that bad. She understood what I was dealing with on an almost exact scale, so it didn't feel like some outsider snooping in what they didn't know.

September also launched a new stage for me: actually flirt with Baz Grimm Pitch.

Ish.

Okay so I hadn't like, asked him out or anything, but you know, I was trying. We talked a lot outside the group chat anyways, but now it was a constant. And when we didn't hear from each other it felt wrong.

All 4 of us ended up meeting up twice in September. We didn't think we'd be able to swing it, but Penny and I we able to make it to one of Agatha's games - where I sat next to Baz, and we talked the whole time, much to Penny's annoyance and also happiness - and the other time was a scheduled meet up to film our collab.

Oh, the collab.

The fucking collab.

Penny liked to call it "Unresolved Sexual Tension, the movie". I begrudgingly had to agree. It was a little sickening. Though, luckily, the signs were only apparent to people who really knew me.

My Mum really knows me, which, at this point in time, was awful.

Not only had the collab become one of the highest grossing videos I had ever been a part of, but it also provoked my mother to send me a picture of her, a familiar Look on her face (startlingly similar to Penny's Look) and the caption "Son" punctuated by the eyes emoji.

Love her.

And sometimes…well, sometimes that means not responding to her text for a couple hours.

September left, and with the beginning of October came really buckling down on schoolwork. The air had a sharp chill in it now, one you could smell and taste all at the same time. This fact put me into the holkday spirit 31 days early.

I was really looking forward to the end of the month. Halloween had always been one of my favorite holidays. Usually, Penny and I stayed in, watched Hocus Pocus, sang a shotty rendition of "I Put a Spell on You", ate our weight in chocolate. Traditional stuff like that.

This year, however, we had been invited to a costume party hosted by one of Agatha's teammates - Hannah. They were gonna meet us at our apartment, we'd hang out for a while, and then we'd all take the 45 minute bus ride.

I was still trying to figure out a costume. Penny liked to tut at my efforts - she was just going as a cat. Creatively lacking, if you asked me.

-----

"You did really good today, Sharon. A big improvement, I think you've just about go the hang of this," I grinned.

She threw her head back with a laugh. "Thank you, Simon. And you too, Winnie. The girls at my book club would keel over if they heard this, but your classes are my favorite part of the week."

"Aw, thank you!" Winnie grinned, waving goodbye.

It was our last class of the month, only a few days left until Halloween.

Winnie hopped up onto one of the various stools in the classroom, swinging her legs. "What're your plans for Halloween?" she asked, watching me.clean the remaining mess.

I swept crumbs off of the stainless steel countertop. "Party, you?"

"I'm blessedly spending it with Dan. We didn't think either of us would be free."

"I'm glad," I smiled.

"So is it a costume party?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "I still haven't got my costume, though."

She cocked her head to the side. "There are only so many golden haired bakers that you can go as, huh?" she laughed.

"Do you think I could get away with going as myself or is that pretentious?"

"Shh, I'll help you figure something out. But first, you gotta come see Dan and I's costumes."

She pulled her phone out, swiping across the lockscreen - her and Dan, the day they got engaged, I think - and pulled up her gallery.

"So, you actually kind of inspired it. You know your whole Pooh Bear thing?"

"Holy shit, no way," I huffed, grabbing her phone out of her hands as she laughed.

In the photo, it was her, standing next to Dan, beaming. Winnie sported red jeans, a flowy yellow shirt, and rounded yellow ears attached to a matching headband that rested atop her curls, which had been tugged back into a bun.

Dan was wearing regular jeans, a kind of gray-blue shirt, with chin-length ears in the same shade of gray-blue.

I snorted. "Pooh Bear and Eeyore, really?"

"One, it's fucking cute. I've got a yellow purse that I taped a piece of paper to with 'honey' written across it, plus I made Dan a tail. Two, we're going with my brother to take my nephew trick-or-treating."

"Please tell me you took this perfect moment to dress the kid as Piglet."

She winked. "Great minds think a like. Plus my brother's going as Tigger and his girlfriend as Rabbit."

"Your family is great, and I'm jealous. I can't even get Penny to wear something remotely matching."

"What's she going as?" Winnie asked, looking up as she slid her phone back in her pocket.

"Cat."

She wrinkled her nose. "Booooo."

"Tell me about it."

"You need something good, but easy to make…" she trailed, before her eyes lit up brightly.

"C'mon, I know where we can get everything; for cheap too," and with that, she pulled me out of the classroom giddily.

-----

~ The Phone of Simon Snow ~

To: Bunce Cake
From: Me

Win and I are gonna go pick up a couple things for my costume I'll be home after a while

From: Bunce Cake

You two dorks have fun

-----

October 31st

Penny was on the couch, groaning loudly at her computer. "I just need to upload this damn video what's so hard about that!" she cried, throwing her head back.

Her glasses were skewed on her nose, the bar on the upload nowhere near done.

"And you call me dramatic," I grinned, adjusting my "tunic", as Winnie called it.

Dark green jeans, olive tunic, matching hat nestled in my curls. I'd like to think I'm pulling off modern Peter Pan nicely. And by modern I mean enough fabric to actually keep me warm.

Though, I'll admit, Winnie really thought it out. Comfortable, warm enough, and it made Penny laugh so hard she cried.

Which might have to do with our blackmail-worthy personal relationships to the various Peter Pan franchises.

"You are dramatic. Or do I need to remind you of the time we were out of bread?"

"One I was sick, and two all I wanted was a grilled cheese and some tomato soup."

"You're a five year old and I love it."

I laughed, putting my hand over my chest. "You wound me, Lady Bunce!"

"Drama," she replied, shaking her head, and turning back to her screen.

A knock sounded at the door before I could reply, so I headed off to answer it. Mostly, because I knew Penny wouldn't leave her laptop 'til it was done uploading.

I threw the door open, inhaling deeply. "Welcome, weary travelers-"

I literally cannot believe this.

Baz Grimm-Pitch is at my door.

Believeable, happened before.

Baz Grimm-Pitch is in a Halloween costume.

We're verging on the unbelievable here folks.

His costume consists of fake vampire fangs and dribbles of "blood" around his mouth. Unbelievable.

Unbelievable.

Agatha laughed. "Easy there, Shakespeare."

I looked over her costume, trying to keep myself from staring because I did not know/think he was the Halloween type.

She was dressed modestly. Pale blue sleeves, dark brown bodice, light brown, pleated skirt, white apron, and plain brown flats. Her hair was pulled back and fastened with a blue bow, and she grinned, waiting for a reaction.

Penny rounded the corner before I could figure it out, though it was on the tip of my tongue. "Cinderellie, Cinderellie!" she laughed.

Cinderella!, my mind supplied. Pre bippity-boppity-boo.

Agatha took one look at Penny's costume before declaring, "Purrny."

"Don'tever call me that again."

"Pawny?"

"Easy there, Parks and Rec," I quipped, throwing her earlier words back at her.

"I'm not suggesting a group costume next year in which I'm Leslie, Penny is Ann, and you two are April and Andy respectively, but that's exactly what I'm suggesting," Agatha prattled.

"I'm hypothetically voting yes," Penny piped up.

I rolled my eyes, turning to Baz to give him a look. "You ever gonna come inside or are you gonna lurk on our doorstep?"

"Honestly, Simon, I'm appalled. Don't you know your basic vampire lore?" he asked, stepping over the threshold.

"You're awful. Also, fess up, who paid you and how much to get into costume?"

He grimaced. "My sister, Mordelia. Not so much paying me as threatening me with her cat, Garbage Cat. I figured I'd rather dress up than contract rabies."

"Smart," I laughed, leading the way into the kitchen.

-----

Baz

Agatha swiped her palms on her skirt before knocking on the door. I knew my eyebrows had tucked together, but from the way she was subconsciously smoothing down her hair, I couldn't help it. I don't know why she'd be nervous, it was just her teammates, and maybe a few of their friends or significant others.

The door opened to reveal our hostess, Hannah. "Aggie!" she greeted cheerfully.

Agatha smiled. "Hey, Han. This's Simon, and that's Penny-" she pointed them out. "And you know Baz."

She smirked. "Sure do. Baz," she inclined her head.

"Hannah," I replied tersely. I'd rather not get into what transpired at her last party I went to.

"Y'all come on in, most of the girls are here already, so the party's starting to pick up," she waved us in.

Her hair, black with an almost dark blue luster, was slicked down into two matching braids. Her dress was black, with a white collar, paired with black, thigh-high stockings, and scuffed, black shoes. Her make-up was minimal, dark lipstick that brought out her even darker almond eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me Wednesday Addams was an option, I would've voted that, not a ladybug!" Agatha comaplined.

"Last minute," Hannah replied. "I roped Suzie into coming as Morticia, she's around here somewhere."

Agatha clapped her hands together. "Fantastic."

"Okay, hostess duty calls. Y'all make yourselves comfortable! I'll see you later."

And the she disappeared into the mild crowd.

"C'mon," Agatha said after a second. "I'll take you round and introduce you. Penny, you've gotta meet my teammate Jaqueline, and Simon? Remind me to introduce you to Mama Jen."

"Mama…what now?" he asked, but Agatha was already parading them along.

I slipped up to his side, talking around my fangs. "One of Ags' teammates. She's like everyone's mother."

"I'm sticking with you tonight, at least you know what the hell is going on and will clue me in."

-----

Simon

And stick with him I did. It was overwhelming, meeting all the girls, and their significant others, and their friends. There was the bumblebee, and the strawberry, and the two that were the seriously hilarious, yet inappropriate pun. Not to mention Captain America and Iron Man, and my personal favorite - the one dressed like Beetlejuice.

But Baz calmly talked me through each person, their names, little tidbits of information, that sort of thing; which, frankly, went a long way.

I made small talk, as Penny had left me to go off with Agatha, and I didn't want to talk Baz's ear off all night in a nervous ramble.

Eventually though, maybe 2 hours after we had arrived, Baz saved me from my misery, pulling me over to the couch.

"You looked like you were going to keel over if another person you didn't know approached you," he informed me, passing me a bottle of water.

I broke the seal on it, taking a long sip. "My mouth is so dry; do you know how many muffin recipes I've given out tonight, because I don't think you do."

He laughed, dropping onto the couch beside me. "I should've saved you sooner, huh?"

I tilted my head back against the couch. "Put it this way: I may never bake a muffin again in my life, isn't that tragic?"

"Not even like, for my birthday?"

"Not even for you birthday," I confirmed.

"Damn," he hissed.

I grinned at the ceiling. "Maybe 'cause it's you I could make an exception."

"I'm honored, Snow, really, I am. I'll cherish this moment forever."

"Arse," I muttered, my lips twinging.

We fell into a comfortable silence. The radio wasn't as loud now, though top 40 hits still trailed out of the speakers at a moderate level.

There weren't many voices, a few drifting from the kitchen, which was around the corner, out of sight of the living room where we were.

"Where's everyone?" I asked, my eyes still closed.

"Ags and Penny are in the bedroom with a few of the other girls, I think they're watching Practical Magic. A lot of the others have dispersed and gone home. I think Jen and Suzie are in the kitchen cleaning up some."

And I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to open my eyes at that moment but I opened them and I realized...

I realized just how close he was.

His head was practically on my shoulder, if he tilted it any farther, in fact, it would be. And you know what? That'd be fine.

"...Baz?" I asked, and for some reason my mouth was moving faster than my thought process - my voice wobbled ever so slightly.

"Yeah?" he asked, picking his head up.

His hair was freshly pushed back out of his eyes, which were watching my face with…anticipation? No. All the emotions are mixed up in my mind and so I can't accurately place it.

Suddenly, I don't know how we ended up in this position. But he's close. He's so close and I could probably reach out and k- no.

Well, maybe.

In this situation I never thought I'd think of my mother, but here I am. And I mean, I'm not so much thinking of her as her words.

"Follow what makes your heart sing."

Things that make my heart sing:

- My friends

- My family

- Baking

Things that make my heart hold a note longer than Céline Dion:

- Baz Grimm-Pitch

I angle myself just a bit more to my right. I'm simultaneously trying to say a complete and coherent sentence to him and watch his eyes; but the former really starts to fade out until it's just me and his eyes and then my hand on his face.

Wait.

My hand is on his face. My thumb, more importantly, is on his cheek, rubbing back and forth over sharp cheekbone.

He's stopped talking.

I've stopped thinking.

It feels deathly quiet and absolutely, unbearably loud at the same time, but that might just be the blood rushing in my ears. I don't know, I don't know.

I don't know what I'm doing, oh God he's getting closer or I'm getting closer but our lips are just seconds away from each other and my heart has stopped but it's also pounding and my eyes flick down to his lips one last time before they shut and-

I start laughing and I can't stop laughing because he still has those stupid fucking vampire fangs in.

He seems to realize, and leans back to quickly pop them out. I'm in a bit of a daze, because the next thing I know he's laughing breathily, and I think he said something but my ears are ringing and all I can think is "I want to kiss him."

My heart is singing it's own heart out and-

Here I go….

Here I go.

I've kissed a few people in my life. My first kiss when I was 13 was sloppy and mildly-traumatizing. Peppered, chaste kisses throughout highschool, and even some very non-chaste, yet still sloppy kisses made it onto the list. So yes, I've kissed before.

But I've never been kissed the way he's kissing me. It's slow, and soft, and it feels like he's handling fine china, and I've never been treated like fine china. It feels like he's afraid to break me, but also afraid to grip me too tightly and never let go. Like he doesn't want to scare me off, but he reservedly wants as many pieces of me as he can take.

Kissing Baz feels like a supernova of energy and light and butterflies in my stomach and shaky hands and sweaty palms.

If he keeps kissing me like this he can have all the pieces he wants. Every single one of them, I don't think I care.

I trace his jaw with my fingers, to his throat, where my fingers hover gently over a pulse point. His heart is ecstatic under my fingertips, a morse code of adrenaline and a flustered sort of kiss-drunkness.

"Simon," he whispers it between honey-slow moving lips and warm breaths and my heart has now stopped singing and is pounding out a deep, sloping groove in my rib cage.

I try to pull back, or at least, in mind I do, because my mind is screaming that "You do not kiss your friends like this!" and then another part of my brain is yelling about ruined friendships and how I'm notorious for losing people I care about and another part is talking rationally about how I should make sure this is something he even wants (but by the hand wrapped in my hair and the breathy, pleasant way he keeps repeating my name I don't think that's an issue) and then there's another part of my mind that's singing a song from Disney's Hercules and it's all so much. It's so, so much, until I feel his palm on my side and it grounds me instantly. It's the best and worst feeling to be grounded by that, because where his fingers rest I feel so alive that it hurts, but it also makes me aware-

Wait shit, his palm is on my side and we're kissing on some poor girl's couch. I don't even know her! But back to the fact that we're kissing…

"Baz, we-"

Laughter that we hadn't previously heard gets closer, and so do footsteps. We pop apart frantically, smoothing hair, and trying to look casual, like we hadn't just obliterated that line we had drawn in the sand between and were on our way to sprinting across it.

"There you two are!" Agatha called, crossing the room to sit beside Baz. "You ready to leave?" she asked.

"Uh, y-yeah?" Baz stammered, eyes switching around nervously.

"Well come on 'cause we've still got a long bus ride and I forgot my charger at their's," Agatha said, hauling herself up just as quickly as she had fallen.

"Why don't you two just stay with us? There's no sense in a 45 minute bus ride to our place and then another hour back to yours. You'd be cool with that, right Simon? They can have my bed, 'cause it's bigger, and I can bunk with you or take the couch."

"Yeah, of course," I breathed, trying to look anywhere but Baz.

But my resolve broke. I needed something, some sort of read on him and his emotions because after years of wanting to I had just kissed him. And he had kissed me back like his life depended on it.

At first, he wouldn't meet my gaze, but finally, as we were leaving, I caught a glimpse. And what I saw was this: pure panic setting off like fire alarms behind his eyes.

Oh. Oh, I had fucked up so bad.

Chapter Text

Simon

"Hey," I spoke into my phone, whisking the eggs in the bowl in front of me gently.

"Simon!" Winnie replied enthusiastically. "Simon, I've got the best news."

"Uh, alright?" I said slowly, squinting at the piece of shell that had fallen into the eggs - it never failed, I always missed a piece of shell.

I reached for it, my fingers surprisingly still for once.

"Dan and I set our wedding date," she beamed.

My hand jerked violently, sloshing the yolks and whites across the counter. "Shit!" I cursed.

"I was expecting a bit more happiness, Simon."

"What? Oh! No! I'm happy I just - I spilled eggs everywhere," I muttered, wiping at the gelatinous mess on the countertop.

"So when it it?" I asked, registering the fact that I had virtually no formal wear.

"February 17th," she said easily.

I think I just choked on my own spit a bit. "Winnie, that's like two months off!" I hissed.

"I know, isn't it exciting?" she laughed, and I could hear bangles jangling on her wrist.

"I mean, yeah, but how are you gonna plan a wedding in two months?"

"Already done, I've just gotta get my dress."

"I'd ask, but I'd rather not know. So, how formal is this party?"

"Wear a suit for me, just this once. My cousin's a photographer and I want to get some nice photos of you and I so when you get super cooking famous and forget about me I'll have something to remember you by…and also to sell on Ebay."

I snorted. "I would never," I gasped, scandalized.

"Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, you can bring a plus one," she said in a way that probably didn't mean, "Hey, ask your sister", but whatever.

"I'll see what Penny's up to, then."

Winnie sighed. "I figured as much."

"What? Do you not want me to invite her?" I taunted.

"No! Ohmygod, that's okay, you know I love Penny! But…you know, generally, a plus one is…romantic."

"She's my sister," I said dryly.

Winnie sighed, and I could almost hear her resting her forehead in her hand. "What I'm trying to get at, since you are terrible at taking hints, is that you should ask B-"

"Oh, hold on," I said, pulling my phone away from my face. I read over the contact information for the incoming call.

"Fuck, Baz is calling."

"And that's a terrible, horrible, awful thing why?"

"We haven't talked since Thanksgiving!"

She laughed - oh she'd definitely gotten the rundown on Thanksgiving the day after.

"That means you need to answer it even more, now, go!" she instructed.

"Fine, fuck, fine, okay. I'll call you later, love you."

"Mhmm, love you too."

I hit the green answer button not a second too soon. "Hey," I answered, my free hand falling limp on the counter.

"Oh," he said, like he hadn't expected me to actually pick up. "Hey. Hey! Uh, I…"

We had a long talk on Thanksgiving. And I think we're on the same page now? I'm not sure. I don't even really know what page I'm on, actually.

"What's up?" I asked, going for smooth, probably sounding about as smooth as spoiled milk.

"Nothing? We just…haven't talked in a while. I was checking in."

I bit my lip harshly, keeping myself grounded. "It's good to hear your voice, Baz," I murmured without thinking about it. "Shit, I, fuck, I meant - it's good to hear from you."

He hummed a laugh, and I could almost hear the small smile creep up on his lips. Well, truthfully, I could picture it quite vividly.

"It's good to hear your voice too, Si-Snow. Snow."

"You almost called me Simon."

"No I didn't."

"Uh, yeah, you totally did."

"Sure, Snow, whatever you say."

"So I'm growing on you then? Oh, God, are you gonna start calling me Si? Because I'm down for that, I love nicknames."

"Then Snow shouldn't bother you. I'm starting to regret this phone call," he clucked jokingly.

"Well, bye then," I snorted.

"Wait," he said softly.

I paused, inspecting the patterns in the countertop, trying to keep my focus away from my - admittedly hitched - breathing. "Hm?"

"Do you, I mean - coffee. Do you want to go get coffee? I'm really shit at having serious conversations - even more so on the phone - and I know we had that long call on Thanksgiving. But I just. I want to clear the air, Simon. I want it to go back to the way it was before things were tense between us. We were good friends and I don't want to lose that because of one kiss."

"I didn't think I was that bad of a kisser," I laughed weakly.

"You're not," Baz murmured. "But you're an even more amazing friend, Simon, and I really don't want to lose that. Lose you."

I braced myself against the counter, closing my eyes softly. "You're not gonna lose me, Baz."

"You don't know that, Simon. And I'd never forgive myself for ruining us or hurting you because I can't keep myself or my feelings in check."

I could almost see him tugging on his hair, pacing, maybe Agatha watching on with concerned interest from the kitchen, but trying not to listen in. I cpuld picture it all so easily, see it so clearly.

"Feelings?" I asked, a smile at the corners of my lips.

"Yes, Snow, feelings. A-a lot of them."

"What kind?"

He expelled a deep breath. "I don't want to do this with you. I don't want…"

"What kind, Baz?" I asked again, softer.

"You know, bloody hell, you've got to know by now. I haven't exactly been subtle, have I?"

"Just say it. Please."

"I like you, Simon Snow. A lot. A whole lot. There. There."

I couldn't help but laugh gratefully. My legs felt numb and pliable and my heart was hammering in my chest, but I was weightless. I felt like I was on top of the world. "I'm not laughing at you I'm just really happy and I can't stop laughing, I'm so sorry," I rambled through giddy wheezes, tears streaming down my face.

All this time - all this time.

"Snow, I'm a little worried," he finally chuckled.

"I've wanted to hear you say those.exact words for years, Baz. I don't think you fucking realize how long I've waited."

"For me?"

"For you, you absolute idiot."

----

Baz

I registered the fact that my hands were shaking - of course I did, I almost dropped my phone because of it. And I knew I needed to sit down, because my legs felt funny too.

But all I could focus on was his lauggter flittering through the phone, and his words, his words.

"I'm not laughing at you I'm just really happy and I can't stop laughing, I'm so sorry."

I'd felt like I was going to vomit when I'd told him, but now my body felt like it was made of stars. Shining and humming in a darkened, celestial tango of jittery nerves and absolute happiness.

"For me?" I asked, and my voice was barely a whisper, but it was there, and he was responding "For you, you idiot," and I felt amazing.

"Can I retract my coffee invite?" I asked.

"Only if it puts dinner on the table," he said, and I could hear his stupid grin, lighting up his face and playing at his freckles.

"Of course."

"Good. Awesome. That's - fuck, that's really awesome."

And now it was my turn to laugh because I was going to go on a date with this brilliantly golden boy and I had a chance and everything was perfect.

"I'll talk to you later and we can set a time and date?" I ventured.

"Okay."

"Alright," I replied.

"Bye Baz."

"Bye Snow."

And the phone call was over but my adrenaline rush wasn't and I still felt like I was going to vomit, but for a completely different reason.

"Agatha!" I yelled - well, kind of, my voice broke a little mid-word, but it still got my point across.

"I'm on the phone!" she called back.

"I've got a date!" I tried, that should elicit something.

A moment, and then she was sliding into the living room, barely catching herself from falling to the floor.

"I've got Hannah on Skype - this better be good. Who's your date with?"

I clenched my fists a few times, nails digging into my palms excitedly. "Simon. I'm - Simon. I'm going on a date with Simon."

"Are you fucking with me, because Baz, I swear-"

"I've got a date with Simon Snow, Agatha, I'm not joking."

"You're not joking! Holy shit, Baz, you're going on a date with Simon!"

She barreled forward, her arms enclosing around me. "I'm so happy for you two! Okay, tell me what just happened in these past 20 minutes, because I've missed something-"

"Don't you have Hannah waiting for you?" I reminded, hoping I'd get out of the imposing interrogation for another hour or two.

-----

Penny

I had heard the oven go off a few times in the past three or so hours, but I hadn't put much thought into it. It wasn't until another heavenly smell was added to the mixture that I began to worry.

I paused the cheesy, two star movie I was watching, and pushed off of my bed. I didn't really have a plan, but I had a bit of time to act like I was getting a plan together as I padded into the kitchen.

I rubbed my eyes under my glasses as I turned the corner to find - well, not what I'd expected.

"What are you doing?" I sighed, looking over the trays of cookies lining the countertop.

What had he done now.

"Baking?" Simon asked.

That shouldn't be a question, Simon, I chided in my mind.

"Stress baking, looks like," I muttered. "Why are you stress baking?" I asked louder.

"I'm not stress baking."

"I've counted four different types of cookies."

"Five," he corrected.

"That really helps your case there, Simon."

"I've got a date," he finally relented, pausing over his newest batter.

"One of these better be chocolate chip," I grunted.

He pointed across the kitchen at a purple plate piled with a dozen or so warm chocolate chip cookies. I took three for good measure, before finding a free bit of counter in the far corner - away from any cooking spaces or their affiliates.

I took one bite before motioning for him. "Alright, go ahead. By the way, these are a bit dry."

I had an inkling of who it might be, of course, but they were both so emotionally repressed it'd be a miracle if they even communicated normally, let alone talked their feelings out to some extent.

"Needs more butter," he mused, before reiterating, "I've got a date."

Maybe Winnie had set him up with someone - that was wholly plausible, even more so than the idea that he and Pitch had finally crawled their way from the repressed pits.

"With?" I asked.

"Baz."

I should've been expecting it, but I wasn't, so that's why I inhaled half a cookie and nearly choked to death on a chocolate chip.

"I'm surprised you haven't pulled out the liquor at this point," I said, knowing he'd rather me not hype him up anymore than he already was. Jokes would have to work then "Because we all know that after extreme stress baking comes the drinking."

He laughed. "I'm desperate, but not drinking while it's still day time desperate."

"Damn, I thought it was nearly eight," I grumbled, peeking at the stovetop's clock to find that it was only 6:30. "Alright, when is it?"

"Dunno," he replied sprinkling something - were those M&Ms? - into his newest dough.

"You don't know?"

"We're setting the time later," he explained. "'M too nervous to think about it."

I smiled at his back, what a nerd.

"Tell me you at least got some footage from all this baking?" I asked.

"Enough for a new video, probably," he nodded.

"That's great," I said, and I knew he knew what I meant.

"Yeah," he nodded, a small smile, no, grin on his face.

"I'm happy for you. Getting all that footage, I mean," I chuckled, slipping off the counter.

"Thanks."

I grabbed another two cookies, stopping to press the side of my head into his back in soft acknowledgement. "'S gonna be fine, don't stress too much. But dolet me know when those are done," I said, motioning to the batter in his hands.

"Will do," he chuckled.

----

Agatha

I carded my fingers through Lucy's hair lazily, watching Hannah as she gesticulated wildly on my laptop screen.

"So then my mother starts yelling, right? I mean, I would've too, if I found a crosse in my kitchen window and two little girls seesawing on it, trying to get it loose-"

I laughed at the mental image of little Hannah holding onto one end of her youth-sized crosse and her elder sister on the other end.

"What did you two do?" I asked, a bit breathless from giggling madly.

"Well, at the exact moment she rounded the corner, the crosse had popped out of the window. So, when my mother started yelling, my sister scampered off with it, leaving me to my mother's wrath."

"That's awful!"

"That's mild. You've obviously never met Beatrice Kimura," Hannah said with a fond roll of her eyes.

"True, but I have met Hannah Kimura, and she's pretty great."

Hannah's cheeks pinked slightly. "Thanks, Aggie."

I grinned. "So-"

"Agatha!"

Hannah and I digitally locked eyes, before she burst into a fit of laughter. "Go make sure he hasn't mortally wounded himself."

"He'll be fine," I muttered to her, before shouting back to him, "I'm on the phone!"

"I've got a date!"

"No way," I muttered excitedly, sliding Lucy out of my lap, and leaving her at the top of my bed.

"I'll be right back!" I hissed to Hannah - who was already shooing me away - before darting off.

I could hear her tinny voice cooing to Lucy through the poor quality speakers on my computer, and honestly, I couldn't help but smile.

That girl, my mind whispered, but it was so far away from my current thoughts, I didn't really have any room to dwell on it.

"I've got Hannah on Skype - this better be good. Who's your date with?"

I'm pretty sure he just said Simon, which, you know, is amazing. Except Baz is an arse and he's probably joking-

Oh, oh he's not joking. He's got this certain look in his eye, a bit of slackness in his jaw, not to mention he looks so damn happy-

"You're not joking! Holy shit, Baz, you're going on a date with Simon!"

We probably look a bit like 2 teenagers, excitedly shouting at each other because one of us has a date - but hey, it's the little things in life. At least one of us has a good romantic life.

And of course I've got to ask for the details, because frankly, a miracle just happened in my living room, and I missed it. With good cause, but still.

And then he reminds me that I've got Hannah on the line, but I wave my hand because she can wait, my very best friend just got himself a date with his crush and wow, we really are like giddy teens, but I can't say that I care because everyone deserves to look as happy as he does in this exact moment

Chapter Text

~The Phone of Simon Snow~

To: Bunce Cake

From: Me

Pen were two rooms apart are you really gonna text me instead of walking to the kitchen

From: Bunce Cake

Yes

Yes i am

So whatre the plans for The Date

From: Me

Youre unbelievable

Anyway were going out for dinner saturday night

From: Bunce Cake

How did whoever got your reservations even *get* reservations for dec 24th it's gonna be a madhouse !!

From: Me

I didnt ask so i have plausible deniability

Besides i think itll be nice

From: Bunce Cake

Youre such a sap at heart i love it

From: Me

Shut up

From: Bunce Cake

You think its r o m a n t i c

From: Me

sHut YOur hElL PEnEloPe

From: Bunce Cake

Fiiiiiiiine

So, you excited or what?

From: Me

Nervous ???

It feels stupid to be nervous but idk i am

From : Bunce Cake

Its gonna be fine Simon you two are gonna have a great night

From : Me

I hope so otherwise things are gonna be super fucking awkward

-----

Baz - Saturday, December 24th

"Are you gonna go shower or what?" Agatha asked, dark purple smudges under her eyes.

"You look like you need it more than I do, how much did you sleep last night?"

She yawned into her mug of tea, her eyes shutting for what could have been the first time in a day, for all I knew.

"Like…5 hours, it's fine. Go shower."

"You know, maybe if you hadn't been up laughing 'til 3 o'clock this morning.…" I trailed, shrugging.

She narrowed her tired eyes at me. "I wasn't up until 3."

"I could hear you laughing at Hannah all the way from my room. Honestly, Agatha, is there something I should know?"

"And what might you be implying by that, Basilton?"

I may have cut my eyes at her. Possibly. "You and Hannah have been talking a lot more lately, not to mention spending more time together outside of practice. It's logical of me to think that maybe this is a thing."

"Baz, you know I've got rules. Rule #1, no romantic feelings for teammates. I love her like I love you."

"Like rules have ever stopped you before!" I called, already heading towards my room to grab fresh clothes.

"It's not a thing, Baz!" she shouted.

"Whatever you say!" I replied, rooting around for clean sweatpants and a tshirt.

-----

Agatha

"It's not a thing, Baz!"

A damn lie if I've ever heard it.

While I may not currently be in a romantic relationship, well…

Doesn't mean I haven't got my eye on anyone.

Like, in a hypothetical sense, my beloved teammate, #12 and goalkeeper, Hannah Kimura.

-----

Baz, 6:15, December 24th

I smoothed down my button up, the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. "Does this look okay?" I asked for what felt like the hundreth time.

Agatha gave me a small smile. "You're so flustered," she commented, adjusting my collar. We'd both decided that a tie would be too much, so I was in a plain, barely colored button down and jeans.

"I just want things to go well, Ags."

"Love, things are going to go amazing. It might be a bit awkward in the beginning, but hey, all you gotta do is be yourself. He's ready agreed to go on a date with Baz, so there's no reason to be anyone different."

I exhaled. "Okay, I need to go catch my bus. I'll text you, love you."

She pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Go get 'im. Have fun. And be yourself. Love you too."

I sighed. "It's gonna be fine."

She nodded. "It's gonna be fine."

---

Simon - 5:45pm, December 24th

"Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!"

Penny slid around the corner, grabbing onto the doorframe for support. "What? What is it?"

"I can't find any of my nice shirts. And my belt broke? And my only clean pants have a hole in them. Penny what the hell am I going to do?"

"Your belt broke?" she asked, taken a back. "How do you- nevermind," she sighed, shaking her head, hair gently swaying.

"It's sufficiently broken," I drawled plainly.

She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. "Shit, okay, uh hand me the pants and show me the hole. Keep digging for a shirt, and I'm pretty sure I've got one of Micah's belts that he left over Thanksgiving."

I combed my fingers through my hair - which I had even begun to style - and let out a frustrated groan. "I thought I knew where everything was, so that's why I waited to get ready, but Baz is gonna be here soon and we're gonna miss our reservations and the night's gonna be shit and we're gonna slowly drift apart and-"

"Hey, calm down. It's gonna be okay, we'll figure it all out. He's probably not even on his bus yet, there's tim," she murmured confidently.

I turned my eyes over to her, her smiling form taking up my vision. "You're a lifesaver, yknow that?"

She grinned, grabbing the pants from my hands where I was crumpling them harshly. "You've mentioned it before."

-----

Baz - 6:48

The bus ran late. Of course it was running late because the universe hates me and I can't ever have anything nice - like dates with cute bakers that make me laugh.

And then, and then, fifteen minutes into the ride, the rain started. Which was fine, it was a drizzle.

Until it wasn't.

It had steadily progressed to its current point, which was a mixture of rain and ice that made a disgusting sleet mixture that was pouring down all around us.

And here I was, all dressed up, somewhere to go - freezing my arse off in my thick coat and worrying about what the weather would do to my shoes.

I should be worrying about what it would do to my date, but if I worried about that I might miss my stop, and damnit, I've been waiting too long for this to fuck it up because I missed my stop.

-----

Simon - 7:12pm

I fumbled with my phone, locking and unlocking it rapidly, refreshing my messages to see if he'd texted. Time was edging by and with each minute, my clothes felt tighter and tighter. The pale green of my shirt seemed to engulf me, my pressed khakis gripped my legs, my shoes ensnared my feet.

"It's getting late," I muttered.

"It's only a quarter past, it's okay," Penny said, giving me a reassuring smile as she squashed her feet under my thighs for warmth. She wiggled her toes, effectively getting my attention. "It's okay," she assured me again.

I nodded, but there was an odd feeling in my gut - a mixture of nausea and worry.

-----

Baz - 7:34

My hair was drenched, plastered across my face in an unpoetic way. The little makeup I'd slapped on had to be smudged by now, and my clothes weren't fairing better than either.

Oh, and my phone was one percent away from dying. Which is fine because the text with their address got deleted.

And I can't remember the fucking street name.

Joy.

-----

Simon - 8:02

"He hasn't stood you up, for the last time," Penny grumbled, grabbing me by the shoulders. "Baz was just as excited about this as you. I know this for a fact because I talked to Agatha about it multiple times. So, repeat after me. Things happen, there's a plausible explanation for it all, he'll be here soon."

I shook my head. "Yeah, there's a plausible explanation why he's an hour and a half late, wont return my texts, keeps sending me straight to voice mail, and-"

"Stop it. Stop telling yourself all the bad, it's just going to make you upset."

"Too late."

"Damnit, Simon."

-----

8:32pm

"He's not coming. I'm going to change and then I'm going to work on some stuff for school," I finally broke, pushing off of the couch. "Maybe coordinate plans with Win and Miss C about class this week. All dependable ways to spend my time, I s'pose."

I tried to hide the utter hurt on my face, but the tone of Penny's voice tood me I wasn't doing all that great.

"Simon, wait-"

A loud knock sounded from the front door, and Penny and I's attention immediately snapped that way.

She rushed over, flinging the door open frantically. "Ba- what happened? You look like hell."

I couldn't hear his response from where I stood in the living room, on the other side of the door, breath caught it my throat.

I did, however, hear, "He hasn't given up on me yet, has he?"

"You're just in time," Penny grinned.

I pushed my way into the picture, catching short glimpses of him. Water droplets plopping from his lank hair, smudged eyeliner, the beginning quirk of a sad smile.

And yet, he was still undeniably beautiful.

"You came," I croaked.

His eyes shot up at the sound of my voice, seeking my eyes out. "Simon, I'm so incredibly sorry, I wasn't trying to bail on you-"

"Get inside," I said, tugging him in by the arm. "I'll get you a towel."

"I'll get it!" Penny chirped, hustling to the linen closet.

"You've every right to be mad, and I know I screwed up, and I know-" he began, dragging his hands over his cheeks.

"Baz, it's okay. I don't care."

He chuckled. "Well you're better than I am because I'd be pissed."

I laughed, reaching out to tuck a strand of rain-sodden hair behind his ear so it was out of his eyes. "Really, it's alright."

Truthfully, the moment I saw him on my front stoop, soaked to the bones in rain, looking more than a little distraught, I knew. I knew that he'd fought like hell to get here and he still showed up, even after God-knows-what.

He still came because I was here and that made me feel…good.

Really good.

----

Baz

His fingers, soft brown and capable and impossibly freckled, pushed my hair back out of my eyes and behind my ear. The tips of his fingers caught on the 4 smooth, rounded cuffs that curved over my cartilage. I'd stopped wearing them for a while, but when I saw then while I was getting ready earlier, I knew I needed them for good luck - they were a gift from Mordelia after all.

Now that I think about it, maybe she cursed them. I'd have to call her and ask.

"Uh-" I started, before Bunce walked back in. "Here's a towel, Pitch."

I broke Simon and I's eye contact, grabbing the towel from her hands gratefully. "Thanks," I said, scrubbing it through my hair - which I had painstakingly styled before leaving the house. Now it would dry out and look all weird and wavy.

Damn.

"So," I began.

----

Simon

His hand was light in my own, his long, thin fingers slotting between my own in a way that I wouldn't call perfect, but something close to that.

His thumb rubbed across my knuckles every now and then, gently, but I don't think he even realized he was doing. I liked it though. It sent flutters through my stomach, like pleasant wing beats.

We'd missed our reservations by…quite a bit, and there was no salvaging them, but that didn't stop us. The good news about my love of food is that I know all the good food joints around town.

So after a little discussion and grumbling about the weather, we darted off down the sidewalk, rain soaking us to the bone, but laughter passing our lips freely.

And now we were here, in the back corner of some hole in the wall, eating burgers and talking. It had been awkard at first, but then I built up my nerve and asked him what took him so long.

And so, he launched into his story, which he told with such an unbridled disgust and passion that I couldn't help but laugh. Our hands had inched closer and closer together until finally he took mine into his.

It was comfortable. Sometimes we lulled into silence, but it was the warm kind of silence that held you in its arms safely. Sometimes we'd bicker - which mostly stemmed from the fact that he stole chips like he didn't have his own plate right in front of him. That was mostly harmless, however, because he'd swipe it through his ketchup and grin at me and I'd lose all the fight in me.

I'm a bit of a mess over him, it seems.

----

Baz

It was getting late by the time we finished dinner, and since I had to catch my bus back home, we agreed to cut the date short. Though, I wouldn't be stopped from walking him home.

"You need to catch your bus," he said. "You don't have to walk me back."

"Yeah, and then I'll get a call from Bunce wondering why I abandoned you, her favorite person, in frigid temperatures."

He snorted. "More likely a passive agressive text," he amended.

"Or maybe even an email."

He shook his head, displacing tens of snowflakes from his curls. Wait- snowflakes…

"It's snowing," I said, my voice rising above its steady murmur.

He looked up, a grin cracking over his face. "Guess it is," he replied, his nose scrunching up happily.

-----

Simon

I took the carpeted stairs easily, slipping my hand across the railing, and trying to savor the last few seconds of his footsteps beside me.

I stopped on the landing, which was a few feet away from the door to the apartment. I trained my eyes on the green carpet momentarily, using it to take ny mind off of how hard my heart was beating.

It - the carpet - kind of matched my bowtie, actually. See, I hadn't known how fancy our original reservations were, so I kind of over-dressed a little.

"I had a really good time. Tonight. A good time tonight," Baz stammered, pushing his fingers - which bore chipped nail polish that he somehow made work - through his hair to get it out of his eyes.

I smiled. "Yeah, me too."

He took a step back, headed for the stairs, but keeping his gaze on me. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?" There was hope bouncing around his eyes.

"Please," I blurted, before clanking my teeth together painfully.

He laughed, and it was deep and raspy. He'd laughed tonight, but not like that, and I realized that this was his carefree laugh, not the nervous one he'd been using.

His foot fidgeted, and I knew he was trying to decide if he wanted to take another step back or stay where he was. Or, at least, I thought those were his options. There was a third, it seems, and he chose it.

He's standing in front of me in a flash, hand on my shoulder, and lips pressed gently against my cheek. He stepped back, eyes horrified. "Fuck, sorry, I should have asked? I- you look really nice and I just wanted to kiss you. I just said that out loud. I'm still talking, fuck, why am I still talking?"

I chuckled, tapping two fingers against his chin to get his attention. "Do you still want to? Kiss me, I mean."

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Good. That's…really good."

I pressed forward, having to tilt my face up just slightly to meet his waiting lips. It was soft, a deep contrast to our first kiss which was all fire and light and explosions. This was like darkness, wistful and calm and gentle.

My fingers better cupped his face, and his hand was still awkwardly on my shoulder, but he flattened his palm against me, and I was sure he'd be able to feel my heart beating wherever he touched.

In the back of my mind, I heard a bolt throw open, and a latch undo, but I couldn't quite register it, not with his warm lips moving against mine.

A door groaned open, accompanied by a more human groan. "Ah, for fuck's sake," Penny said in one long exhale. "I didn't need to see this, I just didn't," she grumbled, closing the door behind her.

I laughed under my breath, smiling against Baz's stuttering lips. I could feel the heat rising to his cheeks endearingly.

"Can I see you again?" I asked his cheek bone in a whisper.

"Mmm."

"Can I come see you?"

He smiled. "Please," he replied, mimicking my earlier word.

I laughed, pushing him away lightly. "Goodnight, Baz."

"G'night, Snow," he said, giving me an easy wink before trotting down the half dozen stairs. He looked back only once, afte reaching the bottom. I waved cheerfully, before turning on my heel.

I pushed the door open, knowing Penny would've left it unlocked for me.

She was curled up on the couch, robe pulled on over her pjs. "Sorry!" she called unapologetically over her shoulder, a bowl of popcorn in her lap, Netflix on her computer - which was perched on the coffee table. "But hey, good for you."

I snorted. "'S fine, you embarrassed Baz more than you did me."

"I think I embarrassed myself more. That's literally what Mum did to me and Micah on more than one occasion. I've turned into Mum and I'm not even 30, I thought I had til I was 30 at least."

I undid the buttons on my coat, my fingers tingling from going from cold to warm. "It's only right that you, as the oldest of us, should start inheriting traits early. I just can't believe you had to get that one."

"What was it Mom used to say? Right - 'our neighbors don't want to see you and your date snogging on the front stoop, now get inside'."

"I've seen worse from the tenants four doors down," I quipped.

"While true," she nodded. "It's only right that I, as your sister, pay you back royally for all the times you gave me hell over my romantic life. So - how was your date?"

"Brilliant," I said, giving her a goofy grin.

----

~ The Phone of Baz Grimm-Pitch ~

To: Agathaaaaaaa
From: Me

On my way home

From: Agathaaaaaaa

hOW WAS IT

From: Me

he asked to see me again

so id say it went really well

From: Agathaaaaaaa

ahhhhhhhhh

!!!!!!

From: Me

ags it was amazing

and it wasnt awkard

and hes so…

From: Agathaaaaaaa

you two give me hope :')

From: Me

youre a dork

Chapter Text

Agatha

I raked my hand through my hair, pushing it back out of my eyes, but only for a second. It stayed for two beats, before it finally slid down the slope of my head.

I pressed a breath between my teeth, pushing it back again. My hands hovered over my keyboard, fingers twitching towards letters before backtracking completely and slamming into the backspace key.

I looked up, probably for the first time in the countless hours (read: 45 minutes) I'd been parked at my computer to check my word count. Because surely, surely I was almost done with my word count.

A stark 257 glared back up at me, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. 2500 words and I had only completed a tenth, a measly tenth -

The long, suffering sigh escaped me before I could even think it through. Lucy picked her head up from the end of my bed, her ears twitching quickly.

"Luce," I said. "I'm gonna need you to really take one for the team here, okay? So go on ahead and pop some thumbs out of those cute little paws and get to typing for me."

She blinked back at me, her big black eyes seemingly rolling.

"Okay, rude," I huffed. "But look, I just really don't give a shit about this paper."

Lucy rested her face on her paws, a mocking, "Please, tell me more," quirk to her non-existent eyebrows.

"I just can't focus Luce. It's a dumb paper, and the teacher is well, an arse, actually, and I'm not just saying that, you can ask anyone," I sighed. "But I adore the class."

Lucy licked at her nose twice.

"Maybe I am being unfair, I guess we'll never know. Oh, hell, I have to stop getting distracted, I already pissed away 20 minutes on Instagram before I sat down. Fine, and another 20 before that on Twitter, quit giving me soulful eyes it hurts my soul, Lucy, you know that."

I turned back around, fully committed to slamming out at least another 250 words before I even considered getting distracted again.

But that little line just kept blinking, and I couldn't help but reread my thesis statement to reorient myself with where I was - which lead to realizing my thesis was one long run on sentence with too many commas and basically made no sense.

Which lead my mind to the only person I'm really friends with in this particular class who reads all of my papers for me and…and I was a goner.

I spun back around violently. "It's just," I started, scooting closer so I could pull Lucy into my lap. "I've been thinking lately. Really thinking. I know, it's horrifying, but listen. I think I'm breaking one of my rules. No, not breaking, I'm smashing this rule against a brick wall-"

The door swung open and Lucy's head popped up instantly from where it had been resting against my heart.

"Who are you tal- are you talking to the Chimera?" he asked, looking up from his phone, the residue of that weird little smile he gets when he looks at his phone screen hanging on as he met my eyes.

"We're working things out Basilton, I'd rather you didn't judge me."

He held up a placating hand. "When have I ever judged-"

"Would you like that spoken or typed? Alphabetical or on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Har-har," he muttered, venturing further into my room only to flop down on my bed.

"And what might I have done to earn such an honor as your presence?" I grinned, patting Lucy's side as she started to grumble.

He looked up over his phone screen, eyebrows raised, "Hm?"

"What do you want?" I deadpanned.

"I just came to sit with you, Ags. You okay?"

"Lucy and I are in the middle of a serious discussion."

" Hell , Agatha. I know you've got a crush on Hannah. You've been wearing her team jacket since July and haven't even tried to return it."

"Shit happens in the locker room, things get mixed when you've got a bunch of identical jackets, so frankly, what you're implying-"

"I'm not implying anything. You're blushing, and you haven't blushed since, well, there was Chloe, when you were 10, and Erin, when you were what? 14? You haven't blushed over a girl since you were 14 Agatha, I'm not sure what you expected me to think."

I ran my fingers through Lucy's ears, letting the small tangles come undone between my fingers as I processed that. Damn him for being so observant, now I've got to confront this.

I've known Hannah for years. Longer than any of the other girls on the team. I met the original members in the beginning when I first joined the team, but I've known Hannah since I was 16 or so. We met at a match when we played for completely different teams. We were captains back then, so it made since we were introduced.

Her team crushed mine, and that was when the admiration started.

See, lacrosse is Hannah's life. I've been playing since I was a kid, sure, but I'm probably not going to make a career of it. Hannah, well, I've no doubts she'll go pro. She's an amazing player, can adapt on the fly, make the tough calls. God, and watching her play is like watching a fish in water. It's where she's meant to be.

We lost touch for a while after graduation, and I wasn't broken up about it, per se, but I was upset. I remember my first day on our current team. I was standing around on the field with all the other new recruits, and she walked up. Seeing her face again felt like coming home, in a weird way I still can't explain.

I respect her more than anyone, she's a hell of a player, but a hell of a person too. Kind, but won't let that be taken for granted, tough, but only when she has to be. Intelligent and graceful and powerful and beautiful.

And I really like her.

It didn't hit me until a couple months ago. And that's when I realized it had been going on for…quite a while, I won't say how long because it's a little pathetic, but you get the gist of it.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Baz asked, unlocking his phone.

I rolled my eyes. He let out a soft laugh, and I looked up completely, watching him tap away at his phone, a goofy grin on his face.

"Have you figured it out yet?" I parroted.

"What?" he asked, eyes snapping to me as he locked his phone and frantically dropped it on his chest.

"How's lover boy?" I grinned.

"I'm not-"

"Please!" I hooted. "You only ever text me or Delia or Simon or Penny. I'm here, you're not gonna laugh at anything Delia says, and that grin…so, how's Simon?"

"I don't grin and-"

I held Lucy up in front of my face, waving her arms as I sing-songed, "Check the grin you're in love."

"I'm not- and I don't- we're not-! He's fine," he finally stuttered out.

"You're so far gone it's disgusting. Have you two made it official yet?"

"We're just two adults who spend time together-"

"And kiss," I supplied.

"And kiss sometimes," he added. "There's nothing to make official, I mean, I think. I don't know how do you officiate something like that? Do you want me to put it on Facebook? The only people who are going to see are you and my father and my sisters. Oh, and Fiona, yes, I'll definitely put it on Facebook so I can get four calls from my aunt yelling at me because I didn't tell her I 'got a fucking boyfriend' - that, I can assure you, would be a direct quote."

"So he is your boyfriend!" I yelled, nearly throwing Lucy from my lap as I jumped up.

"Damnit, no Agatha. He isn't."

"Well he should be."

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like an almost wistful, "I know," and picked his phone back up.

"You've been on like 4 dates, I think it's safe to say he likes you."

"5th time's the charm and all that," he grumbled.

"Literally no one says that, just ask him."

"Only if you talk to Hannah."

"I talk to Hannah all the time, Baz."

"No, talk to her."

I paused. He'd backed me into the perfect corner and he knew it. "Deal, but you have to do it in the group chat so I have hard evidence."

He wrinkled his nose as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. "You can't screenshot it and send it to Delia."

"That's fair."

He took a deep breath, his chest rising tall in the faded, soft fabric of his t-shirt. "Okay."

* * *

~ The Phone of Agatha Wellbelove ~

To: Queen
From: Me

Penelope get your arse to the gc

* * *

YT Squad

Penny: whats going on

Agatha: nothing yet sshshshshhh

Baz: Snow

Simon: you rang

Baz: I'd rather do this in private but I'm being blackmailed

Simon: agatha

Agatha: *finger guns*

Penny: get on with it im trying to study

Simon: -micah's eyes through the pixelated image of skype

Penny: fuck you ajdjaks

Baz: okay so we've been hanging out…a lot

Penny: so thats what kids are calling it these days

Simon: stop wiggling your eyebrows like that wtf penny

Baz: youre all a bunch of hellions and i dont know why i put up with any of you

Except for you snow

Simon: im honored

you were saying

Baz: do you want to ah…make this official

Penny: Holy Fuck

Simon: official?

Okay penny has informed me toure asking me to be your bf but i?

isnt that what we're doing already

Agatha: im screaming

Penny: crying actual tears rn you t w o

Baz: simon wtf why didnt you tell me

Agatha: so youRE TELL IN G ME

that he's been walking around our flat with that goofy grin for weeks

AND HE DISNT EVEN. KNOW IT WAS OFFICIAL

PENNY

IM COMING TO LIVE WITH YOU

DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF LOVEY DOVEY BULLSHIT IM GONNA HAVE TO PUT UP WITH NOW

Baz: sh u t u p agatga im trying to get confirmation here

Simon: ags i hate to tell you this but penny is 10x worse with her lovey dovey bullshit /her/ bpyfriend is a whole damn ocean away so when they talk it's 10/10 disgusting

Also baz you cant be the oblivious one in this relationship

Ive had dibs on that role since i was Born

Baz: WHAT THE FUCK

Simon: ???

Baz: now i have to start calling you simon what the f fukcign

my whole world has shifted

Simon: bc we're dating or bc you have to call me simon

Baz: which do you think

Penny: you could always just call him sappy nicknames as a compromise

He likes nicknames

Youre welcome im about to be beat with a pillow for that intel

Agatha:i swear on everything holy if i hear one babe or love uttered in my home i gonna kick your arse penelope

Penny: but honey :'(

Agatha: shut the fuck up ajdjakam

Simon: penny youre a traitor

baz we'll discuss this lat e r

Penny: im happy for you two but i gtgtg

Agatha: tell micah i said hello

Whoops i mean good luck with your schoolwork ;)))

Penny: i hate you

*love autocorrect at it again damn

* * *

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" I asked Baz with a toothy grin.

He was trying to frown, really, he was, but he couldn't help the smile.

Good, he deserved that.

"I'm leaving-"

"Off to call the boyfriend, I see."

"Shut up," he mumbled, but there was no bite to it. "Anyway, don't forget our deal."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, waving my hand. "I know."

"All I'm saying is I think it'll go well," he shrugged, and there was a look in his eye of a man who knew something.

"I don't want to know. I really, really don't."

* * *

~ The Phone of Baz Grimm-Pitch ~

To: Sharpay
From: Me

Kimura

To: Me

Hey there wildcat ;)

To: Sharpay

Let it fucking die i literally just got suzie's mom to stop calling me troy a month ago

Besides im over here trying to do something nice for you and now youre making me not want to

To: Me

Do go on

To: Sharpay

Do you remember what you told me last year at the championship celebration

To: Me

It's only been twice in the 7+ years we've known one another but we really need to stop getting drunk together (and yes, i -vividly- remember)

To: Sharpay

Still true?

Incoming Call From: Sharpay

Duration: 22:57

* * *

1 Year Ago - A Celebration - 3rd Person

Baz clutched his glass of water harder than he really needed to, but the glass was sweaty and kept slipping every time he moved.

A girl approached, hair pushed up on her head in what had once been something meticulous. Now strands hung limply in her tired eyes, which she would blow away every now and then when they became aggravating.

"Bazzy-Baz," she grinned, her cheeks flushed warmly.

"Hannah," he greeted, inclining his head.

"I've lost Agatha, last time I saw her she was doing shots with Mama J, so you're stuck with me."

"And on a scale of intoxication," he started, having to focus on his words. "One being a little buzzed and ten being hitting on me, how drunk are you?"

"It was one time, Jesus, can't you forget anything?"

"Wish I could forget that," he snorted.

"Yeah well, we got over it the next morning."

"'Basilton, I'm very sorry for hitting on you, and I'm sure you're a very nice boy'," he started, reciting the speech she'd given him the morning after the party.

"You're fucking drunk, Pitch, how can you remember this," she asked, her brow furrowing.

"'But I was incredibly drunk last night and thought you were someone else. I'm also super fucking gay. And for these reasons I must end our love affair here, it was a good run, and I'll always remember our time together fondly.'"

"Shutupshutupshutup!" she crowed, hands on her face, eyes peeking between her fingers.

"I'd still like to know who you thought I was," he mumbled with an evil grin.

"Okay see, I can actually explain this one. You've met Jaqueline, yeah? Shit, or is it Suz? I don't remember, but one of them - I think it's Suzie - has a sister. And said sister was there. And I had this really big crush on her. Needless to say: I was piss drunk, it was a very dimly lit party, and you didn't speak until you quoted the shitty yet iconic High School Musical."

"You're a mess, that party was a mess," Baz said, shaking his head with laughter.

"We were young, Basilton."

"It wasn't that long ag-"

"We were young," she reiterated.

He grinned, tugging his legs up so she could finally sit down. She rested against him, her head on his shoulder and her hair tickling his cheekbone. "Can I tell you something?"

"If you absolutely must."

"You're an asshole."

"I'm aware. But go ahead," he nodded, resting his cheek against the crown of her head.

"My verbal filter is pretty much shot, so if I start rambling tap me on the shoulde," she advised seriously.

"I'm intrigued."

"You can't tell anyone, okau? I got over my crsuh on Suzie's sister."

"Astounding, I'll keep that secret close to my heart," Baz stared drolly - he and Hannah were good friends, but that didn't stop him from giving her hell every now and then.

"That's not the secret! The secret is that I like Agatha. Like, a lot. I have for 2 years."

Chapter Text

The Phone of Simon Snow

To: Me
From: Mama Pooh Bear

i miss you ://////

To: Mama Pooh Bear

I was getting worried bc i hadnt heard from you in a while ????? i miss you dearly how are you

To: Me

literally dont ever get married

if you do please just elope

i promise you that a big wedding Is Not worth it

To: Mama Pooh Bear

i thought you said everything was settled once you two chose a date ?

To: Me

I T W A S

UNTIL THE FU C K I N G VE N U E FLOODED

JUST //FLOODED//

WHICH MEANT WE HAD TO FIND A NEW ONE (FOR A DAY LATER IM S O) AND THE CATERING COMPANY WAS BOOKED FOR THE NEW DATE AND ALL THIS OTHER SHIT

AND THE FUCKING INVITES WE'D ALREADY SENT OUT ARENT WORTH ANYTHING NOW SO DAN AND I ARE TRYING TO CALL EVERYONE BUT ITS SLOW GOING I DONT EVEN HAVE A C A K E FOR MY OWN WEDDING

To: Mama Pooh Bear

Winnie what the fuck why didnt you call me ??? What can i do to help

To: Me

Call every single relative i have and tell them that i need them at a new venue a day later

To: Mama Pooh Bear

I'm so sorry :(

To: Me

wait

youre coming to the wedding right

To: Mama Pooh Bear

I'm renting a suit ofc im going

To: Me

simon

my darling darling simon who i love and cherish

To: Mama Pooh Bear

…yes?

To: Me

you wanted to help right

To: Mama Pooh Bear

Anyway i can

To: Me

Make my wedding cake

I'll pay you

It's already designed and it's simple enough

Again: I'll pay you

To: Mama Pooh Bear

W I N N I F R E D

IM SO HONORED HOLY SHIT

To: Me

can you be honored while youre making it

To: Mama Pooh Bear

send me a pic of the design before i agree but id love to ???????

To: Me

youre such a good soul i love you :')

cameraroll_cakedesign

To: Mama Pooh Bear

thats ????? gorgeous shit are you sure you want me to do that

To: Me

nothing would relieve the intense anxiety that i have about this more than putting this cake into your capable hands

i just asked dan and we both agree that you can even film the process if you want for a video like we know this is a huge thing to ask and kinda short notice

To: Mama Pooh Bear

youre making this too good of a deal to turn down (like i ever would sjsnsns)

sign me up fernández ill be the baker

To: Me

If i wasnt already very much in love and very much engaged id kiss you youre such a life saver you dont ev e n k n o w

To: Mama Pooh Bear

I do what i can and id settle for a hug bc i miss you that much ://

To: Me

we gotta hang out soon ok

but until then fill me in on you bc between this wedding and school ik we havent chatted in ages

To: Mama Pooh Bear

We're comparing schedules at some point

And i mean im doing good, school is school and im really in a rhythm with it and

fUCK i forgot to tell you

To: Me

….what did you do

To: Mama Pooh Bear

:)))))))) please dont kill me

bazandiaredatingandhavebeenforaweek

To: Me

SI M O N

HOLY SHIT WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU TWO !!!!!!!

LIKE YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU TWO HAD A DATE BACK IN DECEMBER BUT I NEVER GOT THE ENTIRE SCOOP (i didnt realize it had been so long since we talked whoops)

FILL ME IN MY LIFE HAS BEEN NOTHING BUT WEDDING STRESS AND SCHOOL STRESS I WANT TO SEE YOUNG LOVE IN ACTION I WANNA BELIEVE

To: Mama Pooh Bear

What are you doing at this very second

To: Me

Youve got my address

-----

Simon

I pressed my knuckles against the door in a particular, rhythmic knock, before standing back and waiting.

"Dan! Can you grab the door, it should be Simon," came Winnie's muffled voice from inside.

I smiled, happy to hear her voice after over a month of practically no contact.

The door swung open, revealing a haggard Dan, shoulder length dark brown tresses tugged back into a ponytail, only to reveal thick purple undereye smudges.

"Hey," I smiled as they stepped aside to let me in.

"Hey. Win's in the bedroom, heed the papers though."

I furrowed my brow. "The what?"

They grinned, lopsided and tired. Like a seesaw at full tilt. "She's going through some stuff for class while also trying to single-handedly plan an entire menu. It's a mess, kid, but don't disturb her system. This is her process and it has to run its course."

I gave a bewildered nod. "Uh, okay."

Their smile tilted up a little more at the corners. "She told me you agreed to do the cake too, and Simon, I've really got to thank you," they turned their head almost subconsciously towards the bedroom. "I hate seeing her this stressed, but her knowing that you're doing the cake has taken a big weight off of her shoulders."

I smiled softly at the look in their eyes. "I'm glad I can help."

They clapped me on the shoulder. "Alright, I've got about 20 minutes before this coffee wears off, and too many lines of code to parse through. I'll leave you two to it, thanks again Simon."

"No problem," I said, waving my hand vaguely.

And with that, we went our seperate ways. Dan to their desk on the far side of the living room, and me to the white-walled bedroom to find Winnie.

I knocked on the open door to let her know I was there - the last thing I wanted to do was scare her in her state. There were papers everywhere, across the duvet, in her lap, on the floor.

"What are you /doing/?" I sighed.

Her head popped up, curls jolting slightly. The teal was growing out and fading, there was more of her natural reddish-orange-auburn-what-have-you peeking through now.

"Simon," she breathed excitedly, a gleam in her eyes. "I'd get up and hug you, but…" she trailed looking meaningfully at all the papers.

"And so I ask again, what are you doing?" I asked with a soft chuckle, stepping delicately around crumpled balls of paper.

"I told you that we lost the catering company. And with it being only a couple weeks away, I can't find anyone! They're all either booked, or can't do it on such short notice, so I'm trying to put something together that will satisfy everyone because the older people in my family won't touch so many things, and my generation has a lot of allergies and intolerances that I want to be mindful of, and the dozen plus children in my family are very much against half the foods that might fit the bill-"

"Winnie," I said, trying to interrupt her tangent.

"And I will not serve chicken tenders at my wedding Simon, I won't do it. So it narrows it down to only so many foods that Dan and I like and that fit the criteria, and I have to make sure that it'll all taste good together-"

"Winnie!"

"Yes?"

"You're making this a whole lot harder than it has to be."

She sighed, slouching visibly. "I know, I know, but I just…this sounds so cliché but I want it to be perfect."

"You two are gross and in love and I love it," I grinned.

She huffed a laugh. "Speaking of, gently make your way around the bed - gently, I mean it - and come sit beside me. I want to hear all about your new boyfriend that you neglected to tell me about for a whole week."

"Why do I feel like you're not going to let me forget that?" I asked, picking my way around stray papers.

"Because I'm not," she replied simply, pushing papers together to make room for me.

I shuffled into the bed, crossing my legs under me, and resting my head on her shoulder. "Wha'd'you wanna know?" I asked, biting back a smile.

"I don't even know what to ask, who asked, how did it become official, Simon I need details here," she said, clapping her hands together as punctuation.

"It's super fucking embarrassing," I laughed, turning my face into her shoulder. "'Cause we'd already gone on a few dates? So I thought we were like, already dating, yknow?"

"Simon, ohmygod."

"So he asked, and I had to explain why I was so confused."

"Was Penny there?"

"She lost it."

"Fantastic," she chuckled, patting my hand. "I'm not laughing at you, by the way. It's sweet."

"It feels kinda dumb," I replied.

"Simon, do you know how Dan and I met? Because if you think that's dumb, you've obviously never heard the story of how I and my soon to be spouse met."

"Do tell."

"Hold on, watch this," she pulled out her phone, dialing Dan's number.

"Hey babe," she smiled. "Just a heads up I'm telling Simon how we met."

"Winnifred, what the fuck," was all I caught of their reply.

She started cackling, a cackle that hissed through her teeth and spouted tears at the corners of her eyes. "Dan, stop before I pee my pants. You know someone's going to tell it at the wedding, so think of this as practice."

"You're awful," Dan replied, tone filled with a biting humor.

"I know. Love you," she chirped.

"Love you too."

"Okay, so!" Winnie began. "Here's the unabridged shitty beginning to my love story. You're about to feel so much better about your own love life it isn't even funny."

* * *

"So yeah, me, one of my sisters and my brother, Dan, and their father are all now banned from the establishment. I pass that building at least once a month and I assure you, it never gets old."

I looked up from where my head had been resting in my hands. "What the hell did I just listen to?" I asked.

"The beginning of true love."

I shook my head. "How…I- what happened to the cat?"

"Oh! Cherry got adopted by Mom and Dad. My dad sends me pictures of her at least once a week, she's old and fat now, a real sweetheart."

"The cat's name is Cherry?" I said incredulously, my head finding its say back to my hands.

"It seemed only fitting," she shrugged.

"Astounding. You were right, by the way, I feel infinitely better about the whole situation with Baz and I," I laughed, pulling my phone out from where it had just buzzed in my pocket.

"Who is it?" Winnie asked in a way that let me know she already knew who it was.

"Baz," I muttered, tapping out a quick reply.

"Oh God, you even get a dumb, love-sick look on your face when you say his name. I bet he texted you about something trivial too, oh how my faith has been restored in young love."

I looked down at my phone, rereading the texts.

si, holy shit please dont be mad but i bought premade cookies (with good reason though, li s t en)

So i was taking a walk on my lunch break, right? And i passed this little girl who was selling cookies, and like, ive passed plenty of kids selling goods and never thought twice about them but not this one she had her dog with her and she and the dog were wearing matching hats ?? like cute little berets have you ever seen a dog wearing a beret bc itll make you purchase things you dont need

"He bought premade cookies from a girl and her dog who were wearing matching hats," I muttered.

Winnie's laugh was sudden, a sharp, joyful appreciation for my words. "He sounds wonderful," she finally conceded. "When do I get to meet him?"

"You haven't- well shit, I guess you haven't met him," I said.

She huffed a sigh. "If only there were a big event coming up that you could invite him to where both you and I would be. Sounds highly unlikely though," she shrugged, some mischievous in her eyes.

"The wedding," I replied with equal mock incredulity.

"Wow! What a coincidence!" she gasped, resting her head on my shoulder.

"I get it, you want me to bring him."

"Well, I mean, yeah," she snorted. "Because when I come to your table to hide from my relatives I want it to be fun."

"Oh, so I'm not good enough for you anymore?" I asked, the corner of both my eyebrow and lips quirking.

She smacked my arm. "Sh, just bring him. It'll be fun."

-----

Later that night, Baz

"Hey," I hummed, pushing my key into the lock. I pushed on the door with much more force than I'd meant to, and it swung open hard, a thud sounding when it hit the entryway table. "Shit," I muttered, grabbing hold of it and pushing it closed again.

"Are you just getting home?" Simon asked with a small yawn.

"I had to cover an extra shift at the music store, not that I'm complaining."

"Fuck, that reminds me I need to ask Ebb for the 18th off," he murmured to himself, and I could hear him rummaging for something to take a note with.

"What's the 18th?" I asked, dropping my keys into the bowl resting on the table I'd just accosted, and readjusting my phone so I could untuck the half-eaten box of cookies under my arm and pull my jacket off.

"My friend Winnie? I've told you about Winnie, right?"

"Right," I confirmed, toeing off my boots.

"She's getting married the 18th, well, it was supposed to be the 17th, but then a bunch of shit happened, it's a whirlwind, I don't know. Anyway, she's getting married and she'd probably kill me if I missed her wedding, especially since I'm in charge of the cake," he laughed.

I laughed softly, heading towards the kitchen to find something to eat. "Well with an excuse like that you should have no problem getting the day off."

"What about you?" he asked, and there seemed to be a hesitancy to his words - I couldn't quite blame him, we were still trying to figure out how to do…this.

"What about me?"

"Do you think you could get the day off?"

"Is this a formal invitation?"

"You were requested by the bride herself, that's about as formal as it gets."

"It'd be wrong of me to deny the bride her wish on her special day. I'll see what I can do when I go in for my next shift," I yawned, finally just admitting my defeat and grabbing the cookies off the table, before heading to the couch.

Resting my phone on my knee, I tapped the speaker button, and crinkled open the packaging as quietly as I could - mostly because I didn't want Agatha to hear it and come hound me for some, but also because I think it'ssome sort of food blasphemy for me to even have these in my possession.

"Baz."

Fuck.

"The thing about speaker-phone," he started. "Is you can hear me better, but I can also hear you better. Which means I can hear you unwrapping those shitty, dust and cardboard tasting cookies."

"Okay, but they're actually pretty good?" I said, though the end came out as more of a question.

"Baz," he hissed, but there was a playful twinge to it.

"Si, listen, a thing you need to know about me is that sometimes I buy shitty cookies from little girls and their dogs because I'm a weak man who can't deal with that kind of guilt hanging over his head."

"The next time you come up I'm making the most amazing fucking cookies that will make you love yourself enough to think twice before stooping as low as prepackaged sweets."

"I feel like there's an underlying issue here that needs to be discussed," I laughed.

"The only thing that needs to be discussed is your questionable cookie morals. I bet they aren't even the good ones."

"The good ones?"

"There is exactly one type of prepackaged cookie that a little girl and her dog could possibly be selling that even deserves to be sold and that's the chocolate and mint ones."

"What the fuck, Snow, those are an abomination!"

"The hell they are!"

"Mint and chocolate is the worst thing the food world has ever done-"

"Baz, I-I feel like I don't even know you anymore," he said, but I could hear the grin there - the grin that made me smile too because it was just too contagious.

"We're going to have to agree to disagree here otherwise it just might be a deal-breaker," I said solemnly, biting down on my lip to keep the smile at bay.

"I'd hate to ask your opinion on pineapple on pizza."

"Shh," I laughed. "That's how we cross from friendly banter into a very dark place that it's much too early in our relationship for us to enter."

"The day we hit 6 months I'm asking again," he replied off-handedly.

6 months my mind whispered. He looks at this like a serious relationship too.

I want to make it to 6 months with you Snow, and a year and two and so many more, as many as you'll have me for.

"Okay," I smiled, until my eys landed on the clock. "Don't you have class in the morning?"

"And a shift at E&F later in the afternoon, I know - I'm about to cut the lights out, I just wanted to talk to you before I went to sleep," he yawned, this time a wide, gaping sound.

My heart did this weird kind of…flutter, I think, at that. Which is dumb, 'cause we talk most nights, did before we started dating, but hearing him actually say that….

"Goodnight," I hummed, before turning my head just enough to throw an extra, "Goodnight, babe!" over my shoulder.

"I swear to God I'm starting a jar tomorrow!" Agatha shouted back. "You're going to pay my tuition, you fucking sap!"

I chuckled roughly as I took the phone off speaker and pressed it to my ear. "You just love to give her hell," Simon stated.

"Oh, always. But seriously this time, goodnight, Si," I said.

"Goodnight, Baz."

Chapter Text

Simon - 10 Days to Winnie's Wedding

"Si?" Baz asked tentatively.

I looked up from the sketchbook in front of me, dropping the pencil in my hand and sighing. "Hm?"

"You're looking frowny again."

I grabbed my phone from where it was propped up inside of a cereal bowl, resting my head in my free hand to look at him. He looked dumb (read: cute) with his hair pulled back in a small ponytail on the top of his head, and his jacket, two sizes too big pooling around him as he sipped hot tea from a mug.

"I know, I know, it's just that the wedding's 10 days away and I've got to start the cake soon, and like, I'm not worried about where I'll bake or store it, because Miss C said I can use her regular classroom, which is great, but there's some mechanics behind the actual design that I'm worried about-" I could feel my face scrunch up as my mind wandered back to the cake.

"Take a breath, it's going to be fine. You'll figure it out, you always figure it out," he smiled.

I snapped myself from any mental sketching. "Sorry, I know I'm all over the place, and probably shit company right now," I murmured.

"I don't mind just sitting with you," he hummed, taking another sip of tea. "It's nice. You've got a good face," he noted, nose scrunched with finality.

"'You've got a good face,'" I echoed with a laugh. "Thanks."

"Shut up, you know what I meant," he replied, chugging the rest of his tea with a face that was dappled in an embarrassed red.

Feeling his embarrassment, even if it was digital, I smiled. We'd finally settled into something smooth after nearly a month of dating, so seeing him blush was becoming a bit on the rare side. So, naturally, I had to keep it going any time it happened.

"This cake just might be the death of me, but at least at the end of it all I get to see you in person," I said conversationally, and my stomach only flipped a little bit waiting for his reaction.

His cheeks darkened. "I- uh, me too?"

I laughed. "Definitely worth all the cakes that could be thrown my way," I nodded.

Simon - 7 Days 'Til Winnie Gets Hitched

"Winnie," I said slowly, exhaling a breath through my nose. "I'm going to buy you four cakes and skewer them together with a stake before this is all said and done."

"You'll do no such of a fucking thing," she said immediately, the first words she'd said since she called me five minutes ago. "What's the matter?"

I stared down at the two burnt cakes in front of me, they stared back with their beyond salvation exteriors, something mocking in the way the steam curled lazily off of them.

"This is the third batch I've burnt," I sighed, resting my head in my free hand. "I finally figured out how I'm gonna get the detailing done, so I wanted to do a test run on the batter, but it won't quit burning," I hissed, snatching the layers up suddenly and dumping them in the awaiting trashcan.

"Hmm," she hummed. "What station are you at?"

"Four, I think? I don't know, I've already tried adjusting the time and temp, because as Miss C says, 'you can keep baking something, but you can never take your baking back.'"

"Try a new station and make sure you measure out the flavoring exactly. No eyeballing it, get your little measuring spoons out and actually measure it. If it keeps up, I've got a back up recipe just in case."

"You're a lifesaver even when you've got loads to do."

She laughed. "Sorry to break it to you, but I'm amazing at everything."

Simon - Monday, 5 days left

"So now I'm making the branches for the top tier. I'll probably take some edible paint to them to give them some dimension, and I'm thinking about hiding a bird or two on each tier," I explained to the camera, rolling the material between my fingers until it was the desired width.

"Since I don't have anything else to put on this layer, I want to pay extra attention to the details that are there. I'm going a little beyond Winnie's original design in matter of detailing, but I know at its core it's what she wanted."

The brown for the branches and the trunk was rolled, and I held it up to the camera as I explained the next steps in the process. I'd made the top tier last night before I went home, so I'd just have to roll out the fondant and lay that on it before I tackled the decoration.

I made my way to the fridge to retrieve it, making sure to be as gentle as I could with it in my hands. I propped it up on the pedestal and took my knife to it one last time, shaving off anything that could possibly bubble under the fondant.

I mixed up a small batch of blue-gray fondant and rolled it onto my rolling pin. With a stray look to my camera, I dropped it across the cake, exhaling as it smoothly coated the dessert.

Cutting the excess away, I talked the process through with the camera, using it as a way to make sure I was thinking this through all the way.

Since I had the majority of my classes today and tomorrow, all I would do is bake the tiers and cover them in fondant between the two days - Monday and Tuesday respectively. And since the top tier wouldn't take much in the way of decoration, I'd go ahead and decorate it. I'd also make up all the leaves for the 2nd layer.

Wednesday after class and helping Miss C with her class at the YMCA, I would stack the tiers on the skewer, making sure there was enough space for the topper. I'd also begin decorating the 2nd layer, using the leaves I'd made the day before, and making the flowers as I went along, adding them where I saw fit. Ebb and Flow was closed, so I was off the hook for my shift that day.

Thursday between my morning lecture and my late shift at Ebb and Flow, I would be decorating the 3rd layer, which wouldn't take much, so I could begin preparing everything for the bottom layer, which, arguably, would be the most challenging.

Friday I had one class at 8am, and then I was free. Which worked out great because I had to get as much done as I could on the bottom layer, but since it was the biggest and most intricate, I was worried about time.

Which is why Saturday, aka the day of the wedding, I'd be getting up too fucking early to hussle over here and finish everything off. Baz would be getting in a few hours before we had to be to the venue.

I'd budgeted for everything I could think of, every set back and push forward, so I'm sure I'll be fine. The only thing I'm truly worried about is when I won't have my eye on the cake - which is in the 45 minute window it takes to get to the venue. I'd secured a ride for the cake in a refrigerated truck, but I couldn't be there for the ride itself.

"Alright, so now I'm going to begin decorating. First thing's first: the background. I want it to look like a bit of snow, so I'll use some paint on it, and then apply the branches."

Simon - YMCA - Wednesday, 3 days

"I'm proud of all the improvement I see in this room," Miss C smiled grandly. "When I left this class in the hands of Simon and Winnie, I knew so many of you would flourish, and I'm glad to see that I was right."

I grinned as I tasted the broth to one of the older women's soups. "Winnie and I are incredibly proud too. We're having a lot of fun watching everyone grow. Which reminds me, she's sorry that she's missed the past couple weeks, but with the wedding on Saturday," I shrugged. "I told her you lot would understand."

Everyone swapped between preening under the compliments and nodding along in agreement with me.

"Needs a little more salt," I instructed with a whisper.

The woman in front of me nodded, reaching for the seasoning. My phone pinged sharply as she opened her mouth to ask a question, and sheepishly, I reached for it. "Sorry," I muttered, holding my finger down on the volume button.

Before the volume was cut down all the way, three more texts rolled in. I caught one, which my notifications said to be from Winnie. The part that I caught read, "-answer your damn phone pl-"

"Speaking of," I said, shaking my phone between my fingers. "Miss C, I'm gonna have to take this one, it's Winnie."

The elder shooed me away with a smile before turning back to the class. Gratefully, I ducked out into the hallway as my phone rang.

"Hey, I was just getting ready to call you!" I greeted.

"I should've just e-eloped," Winnie said, bypassing a greeting.

"Are you crying? Winnie, is everything okay?"

"I didn't know who else to call, Dan's working, and everyone else is either too far away or also working or in class or occupied or working on things for this damn wedding," she rambled, words molded with tears. "And I've been on the verge of a panic attack all week, but I think I'm going into one right now, and I just needed to talk to someone and problem solve, but I can't think straight and I'm so fucking stressed," she sobbed.

"Winnie, hey, it's okay, breathe, just focus on breathing. Don't worry about anything else," I instructed, my hands forming placating gestures even though I was alone.

She took a few ragged breaths, but that was all she managed before she went back to spewing words at me. "The new catering company called to confirm everything and s-something must've gotten lost in translation because the numbers aren't r-right," she explained. "And because there's only a couple days left, the company said that a-all they can do is half the bill. So, now I don't have the food to feed a good h-half of the guest list!"

"How many people is half?" I asked.

"About one, one fifty," she snuffled. I could hear her hopelessly shuffling things around in the background. "I did text to my mom, though," she started. "And she said she can pitch in some servings, and I can too, but between she and I Simon that's still 75 people missing food. And it's not like I can pick and choose who g-gets to eat."

"Hey, I know, I know that," I soothed, the wheels in my mind turning quicker than they had in ages. "Listen, I'll handle the other 75, okay?"

"S-Simon you can't, you're making the cake, and 75 portions is going to be hell between my mom and I, I couldn't even imagine what it'd be like on just one person."

"I've got an idea, I'll handle it, just trust me okay?"

"O-okay."

After a little more talk - which was 50% me talking her down from pure panic and 50% me assuring her I had it handled - we hung up.

I burst back into the classroom with purpose in every step. "Sorry to interrupt," I said, taking in the fact that Miss C had been finishing up a sentence. "But Winnie's kind of in crisis mode and I've got a plan to help her. I need voulenteers because we've got about 75 servings of food to have done by Saturday."

~ The Phone of Baz Grimm-Pitch ~

From: My Chosen One
To: Me

hoLY SHIT YOU WOULDNT BELIEVE THE DAY I HAD

To: My Chosen One

Everything okay?

To: Me

hah i wish

so winnie called while i was helping miss c out and apparently the catering company was gonna be about 150 servings short on her food

But between her and her mom they could handle 75 portions

(Which if youve done the math youll see leaves 75 missing portions)

so i told her id handle it ?? and i recruited Miss C and a couple students to handle the food

lmao but now ive gotta figure out how im getting all the food to the venue along with the fact that this d a m n cake is a pain in my a r s e

To: My Chosen One

si, how do you end up in situations like this

To: Me

id Like to fuckignt kno w my s elf tbh

also f or real help me out here how do i get 75 servings of food to a venue 45 minutes a way bc i damn sure cant use the bus

To: My Chosen One

A car ??

To: Me

No Shit Babe

To: My Chosen One

gimme a minute

also dont think i didnt notice that you called me babe *eye emoji*

---

From: Me
To: Agathaaaaaaa

wyd saturday

To: Me

lmao good question

why whats up

To: Agathaaaaaaa

screenshot_texts

To: Me

HMmMMMmmMm

give me a minute

To: Me

okay so i talked to hannah who talked to suzie anyway, suzie said her car is totally free, but she'll only lend it to hannah bc apparently she still remembers giving me driving lessons r i p

anyway let simon know we've got that shit covered

also im tagging along bc i was gonna see if han wanted to hang out anyway and i always love seeing simon ?? i miss him you see him more now :/

To: Agathaaaaaaa

i love you wellbelove (tell kimura that shes cool too fjsjsjs)

---
From: Me
To: My Chosen One

screenshot_texts

To: Me

hey what the fuck im gonna cry

---

Simon - Saturday, 6 hours and counting until the Wedding

Frantic. I hated the word. The mere connotations that I had with it made my skin crawl, so being it is never fun. Yet here I am, frantically trying to figure out why this shit always happens to me and how I'm going to fix it.

Firstly, I clean up the mess. It hurts throwing away all the ruined decorations, but I can't work with such a cluttered mess. Along the way I find a few salvageable pieces, but not much.

Next, I calculate. I take out my phone, give myself 5 minutes of staring off, and then get to work to see exactly how much I'll need to replace what was lost.

Then, I set to work.

I film a short explanation of what's happened for the video, and then I cut my music on, ready to get to work, no camera on me.

I don't know how much time passes, but I hear footfalls approaching sometime later. My head snaps up from where I've been seated on my stool, hunched over parchment paper with my tools and ingredients.

"Hey," I greet him, before setting back to work, my hands going faster than I even knew they could.

"Uh, hi?"

It was the the tentativeness in his voice that snapped me from my wild pace. I looked up, my hands finally stopping for the first time in over an hour, and gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I'm cutting this really close, uh," I started, before a whole wave of words poured from my mouth in such a frazzled and mashed manner that I barely knew what I was saying.

"Si, hey, love, you've got to slow down I didn't hear a word you just said."

"Someone else's cake fell on mine last night while it was in the fridge, I had to scrap a whole side of all four tiers. Now I've got to replace everything, but I don't know if I'll be able to get it done on time, and I've still got to get up with Miss C to check on the food, and I'm just really freaking out right now," I huffed.

He stepped farther into the room. Once in range, he gently took my face in his hands and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I sighed, letting the feeling of his lips brushing across my skin as he spoke ground me. "You'll figure it out and you'll get it done on time. Even if I have to help you myself."

"It's going to take more than just you and I to get this done, but thanks for the offer," I mumbled, tilting my head up to brush a kiss to his lips. Even though I'm stressed and worried and a million other things, it doesn't change the fact that I missed him and I'm happy to see him.

"Quit being gross!" a familiar voice called.

I laughed against his lips, "We can't catch a break, can we?" I asked softly, before looking around him at Agatha and - Hannah, I believe her name is.

"Ags," I grinned.

"Simon," she replied, pushing past Baz to get her arms around me. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

She drew back, pointing over at the girl standing just a ways away. "And you remember Hannah, yeah?"

"Hey," Hannah waved.

"Hi, nice to see you again," I smiled, giving her a polite nod.

We stand arou d awkwardly for a moment as I look down at everything I still have to do. "Which one of you has the steadiest hands?" I asked.

Agatha and Baz's hands immediately pointed out Hannah, who had her own hand raised. "Guess that's me, but it's not that hard to beat Aggie, her hands shake like she's her own personal earthquake," she laughed, giving Agatha a pointed smirk.

"Well, you all just got enlisted to help me, otherwise everything's for naught," I stated, standing and stretching.

I put Baz on using the little leaf shaped cutter I'd made to start cranking out leaves. Hannah was taking a tool to said leaves and giving them a bit of depth with a few veins. Agatha swiped the back of each leaf with a dab of the mixture I'd made so they'd stick to the cake. I stationed myself in front of the cake to apply the leaves themselves.

Half an hour later and we were almost done with the top two tiers.

"So, not to be that person," Agatha said as she passed me another leaf. "But what all has to be done before we can get on the road?"

Baz - 3 hours to The Wedding

"Okay, you can get changed in the bathroom so you can do your hair and all. I'll change in my room. Ags, Hannah, you're welcome to make yourselves at home," Simon rattled off, already heading towards his room in a flurry of movement.

Garment bag in one hand, I took my travel bag from Agatha's waiting hand and headed towards the bathroom. Pushing the door behind me, I kicked off my shoes and undid the buckle on my belt. With ease and precision, I slipped into my suit pants, waiting on my crisp white shirt until after I'd fixed my hair and done minimal make up.

A few minutes later, with my hair slicked back, my eyes lined, and a little concealer on a few wayward bumps that were crowding my nose, I buttoned up my shirt. The tie was a little harder, but I managed it on my second try. With renewed vigor after looking at the time, I slid into my suit jacket and pulled on my dress shoes.

I spun the door handle, pushing it the rest of the way open with my hip as I gathered my things up in my hands.

When I entered then living room, I noticed that the girls were sitting awfully close, though just enough apart thay it was obviously not a conscious effort. Hearing Simon's voice in the kitchen, I headed that way with a shake of my head. They'd have to get it together soon, wouldn't they?

"Of course I'll tell her, Pen. She already told you she understood- no, I know you feel bad about missing it, yes I'll get plenty of pictures. Alright, love you too, bye."

He turned on his heel, one hand holding his hip and effectively brushing part of his suit jacket back.

"I- oh," I started, but lost my words along the way. "Uh, you, I," I fumbled, no words finding good purchase in my mouth as I looked him over.

The suit was nice, a dark gray that highlighted his color well, making his blue eyes pop grandly against his soft brown skin. He grinned, pushing curls back from his face. "You look good, too," he said softly.

"You, I mean, you look great. Like," my eyes trailed him again as I stepped closer. "Like really great."

"Thanks," he mumbled, cheeks pinking slightly.

Instead of responding, I curled my fingers around the back of his neck and waited. It was still weird, getting to do this, getting to tell him he looked nice and getting to kiss him and getting to just…be. Slowly, but surely though, I was getting used to it. And liking it more and more each day.

He tilted his head forward, accepting my invitation, and pressed his lips against mine. It's silly how big and loud the butterflies in my stomach are when he kisses me, but when his fingers brush my free ones, I just can't find it in me to care.

"Y'all, we're gonna be late if we don't- oh shit, sorry!" Hannah squawked behind us.

"We really can't catch a break," I mumbled to him.

Simon - 2 hours to I Do

Agatha, Hannah, and I passed the board that would welcome guests in just a couple hours.

Winnifred Estefanía Fernández and Dana Sade Warren, the board said, but my mind smiled a "Winnie and Dan" in return.

"Winnifred!" I called dramatically across the large room.

Winnie's head snapped up. She was in a robe, her hair pulled up in a towel. "Simon!" she practically shouted, darting forward.

We met in the middle, grabbing one another in a fierce hug. "You look so handsome in your suit," she grinned as she pulled back, smoothing my lapels.

"Thank you. I brought reinforcements and food - That's Agatha and Hannah behind me," I said, pointing them out.

"Will you finally tell me where all the food came from?" she asked insistently.

"Miss C and a few of the people from class, they wanted to help out anyway they could because you're 'such a phenomenal teacher' and all," I smiled.

She hugged me again, pulling me down to her height instead of stretching to meet me. "Thank you, you don't even know how much all of your hard work means to me," she laughed, tears evident in her tone.

Quickly, she let me go and brushed tears away with the sides of her fingers. "Where's the boyfriend?" she asked, blinking away any strays.

"Helping with the cake."

"Damn it, fine. I'll have to meet him later. If you need help bringing the food in, my sister can help you. I gotta get going. Roz!" she shouted over her shoulder at a girl with the same auburn colored hair.

Simon, The Ceremony

Baz and I settle into our seats, fingers and shoulders brushing as we strive for a comfortable position. He sits on the outermost chair of our row, with me on his right.

We've got good seats, about 3 rows back from the altar. There's no one at the actual altar yet aside from the priest. Vaguely, I remember Winnie telling me her parents would walk her down the aisle, and then Dan and their father would follow behind.

I occupy myself by letting my eyes shift around the room. There are women with big hats and big hair and big, bright smiles. There are men in loudly colored suits with loud laughs that match. Everyone is buzzing with excited energy. The front row is alight with chatter, Winnie's mother's family meshing with her father's meshing with Dan's sparse few. Well, I say sparse, but Dan has a sizeable family, it's just that anyone's family seems small compared to Winnie's.

I turn to look at the opposite rows of seating, or at least, that's my plan. Instead my eyes catch on Baz, who is shooting funny faces at a little girl no older than 6 who is diagonal of him. She giggles grandly, her whole body shaking with joy. Her mother sends Baz a grateful look, and he just winks at the girl in return.

I don't know why, but seeing him cross his eyes at the little girl - one of Winnie's paternal cousins, I think - with the pom-pom hair and missing front teeth makes my heart pitter patter in a way I can't explain.

The music starts up and everyone stands, and like that, the moment is gone. Winnie makes her way in through the doors, her either side flanked by tearful parents.

She looks beautiful, her hair down around her face, her make-up flaring in the most Winnie way possible. And her dress, it's gorgeous.

She gave me all kinds of words for it. Cap sleeve, deep sweatheart neckline, A-Line, crystal belt around the waist. But it's so perfect for her. And she looks so incredibly happy.

My eyes follow her down the aisle, shining with tears as she steps up in front of the priest. My eyes flick to Baz unconsciously, and then back to Winnie. She catches me, but gives me this soft smile that seems to whisper "I know."

I release a small sigh as the music for Dan starts up. Brushing the back of my hand against Baz's. He turns back, smilingat me as he laces our fingers together, and now it's my heart's turn to breath a sigh.

Simon - 2 1/2 hours post ceremony

"And now," the DJ said. "The couple would like to invite you to the far wall for the cutting of the cake."

The lights dimmed and soft music played from the speakers as everyone migrated to the far side of the room. I dodged the majority of the crowds, making it to the kitchen just in time to grab a corner of the stand that the cake was on.

Winnie didn't get a chance to see it before the ceremony, so nerves of if she'll even like it bite at me as we maneuver towards the assigned table.

The moment we rest it on the table, Dan gives Winnie the go ahead and she opens her eyes. Tears immediately spring to her ducts as she takes it in.

The top layer is winter, a soft blue-ish gray with dark branches and a few stray birds. Lining the bottom is the beginning of the fade of bright green leaves - all handmade.

The second layer is spring, a dazzling sky blue peeking between the lush bright green foliage; all of this is punctuated by soft pink flowers. The leaves begin to fade to a darker green the closer it gets to the bottom.

The third layer is summer, a warm orange background that's more prominent between the thinning leaves. They fade to a color just shy of yellow the closer it gets to the final layer.

The final layer is autumn. There's no background color, just leaves of yellow and orange and red that cover everything, extra leaves are scattered around the very base of the cake as if the tree - because the trunk running down each tier points to it being one solitary tree - is shedding its leaves in preparation for Winter.

Winnie's hands covered her mouth and her eyes searched for me. "Simon," she croaked. "Simon it's beautiful, you, oh my God, thank you so much," she said through her tears as she headed towards me, her dress swaying slightly.

I enveloped her shaking frame in my arms, letting her rest her cheek against my shoulder as she whispered her awe and thanks over and over again.

Simon - four hours post I Do

Winnie slumped down in front of me, her body language exhausted, but her eyes alight with happiness. "Simon," she beamed. "Having fun?"

"I was cornered by somebody's uncle, I think? And was interrogated about the food," I laughed.

"Oh, yeah, you probably shouldn't have told anyone you had any sort of hand in the making of the food this early in," she replied, resting her elbows on the table. "You're gonna get that a lot. Now, I broke away from a great uncle and four cousins, where's your boyfriend?" she asked, looking around the table as if maybe she'd missed him.

"He was commandeered by about six children and I haven't seen him since," I shrugged. "I figure I'm not getting him back for a while."

"Damn," she muttered. "Hell or high water I'm meeting the boy that's got you so smitten, Simon Snow," she stated, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes.

I ducked my head with a smile, fiddling at my suit cuffs. I could feel her eyes on me, and knew that her smirk was probably on its way.

"Oh shit," she mumbled.

Immediately, I looked up, following her line of sight. Dan was standing next to a woman with warm, golden brown skin like Winnie's mother's and a thick bun of brown hair.

"Aunt Estefanía," Winnie supplied. "I only see her every few years, y'know? But I see her enough to know that that," she waved her hand discretely in their direction. "Isn't good."

She squinted at them closely. "I can tell you exactly what she's saying to them, 'None of that Misses mess, darling, you're part of the family now, call me Auntie. So, since you and Winnifred are married, and you've been together for so long, when can we expect little feet? It's been so long since there were any new babies in the family, and you'll make such wonderful parents," Winnie narrated, her face taking on an expression that was obviously familiar to her. She ducked her hand behind her face. "I really should go bail them out, but I don't want to get into the middle of that."

"Another woman just approached the two of them," I said, my eyes darting back down to the table in front of me quickly for fear of getting caught.

Winnie risked a look up. Her eyes caught on the woman with the skin light night and hair like clouds. "Oh, fuck, that's my great aunt Collette. Dan'll agree to us adopting children before we even have our damn honeymoon with those two swooping in. Simon, I love you, you've not gotten out of me meeting Baz, but I've got to go save my newly acquired spouse."

And with that she darted off.

"What was that about?" Baz's voice asked from behind me.

"For fuck's sake," I sighed through a breathy laugh as I tilted my head back. "You keep disappearing and I'm gonna get in deep shit with Winnie."

He leaned down, letting a small kiss fall on my smiling lips. "Simon, Si, love, listen: whatever Winnifred might put you through is nothing after what I was just subjected to at the hands of 5 year old triplets and their friends," he vented, dropping into a chair beside me and resting his head on my shoulder. "I can still hear the echoes of the entire Frozen soundtrack being sung in six off-key voices," he whispered.

"That movie's like-"

"Three years old? I know, but you can't tell a five year old to let it fucking die, Simon."

I felt the laugh bubble up inside of my chest before it even touched my lips. "I'm sorry," I chuckled againt his hair as I pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

"'S fine," he murmured. "Sorry I abandoned you."

"Oh, no, I've been plenty occupied!" I said a bit hysterically. "Everyone wants to know about the food, I've been grilled by a dozen people over the menu, and Baz, I think I now know what hell looks like."

"You're dramatic."

"And you're a deserter, but you don't hear me complaining about it," I grumbled softly, resting my cheek against the top of his head.

Simon - 7 hours and counting

Agatha and Hannah pulled up in front of us, Agatha with her braid spilling over her shoulder as she leaned out the window.

Arms laden with bags of food, and phones full of new numbers and photos and memories, we clambered in the backseat.

The music is soft on the way back home, and Baz plays at my fingers for the duration of the drive. The four of us don't talk much, but it's the nice kind of silence. I feel warm and happy and content, that kind of comfortableness that makes you feel nauseous.

When we finally park, it's nearing 11 o'clock. Baz and I slide out of the car, food in hand, as we bid the girls goodbye - they're off to…Suzie's, I think? Something for the girls on the lacrosse team, they'll be back for Baz tomorrow.

I fish my keys out of my inside jacket pocket as we climb the stairs where we kissed after our first date and unlock the door.

We discard our food in the fridge or on the counter and go our seperate ways to change, reconvening on the couch where we press our sides together and flip on the TV.

It's closer to midnight when someone knocks on the door. "Probably Aggie," Baz comments through a soft yawn as I make my way to the door.

Everything feels sluggish around me, like that warm sort of slow motion you feel when you transcend being tired back into the realm of feeling awake.

I swing the door open and-

That's not Agatha. Nor is it Hannah. Nor Penny or Ebb or Miss C or anyone that I would ever expect on my metaphorical doorstep.

"Hello, Simon," Mister Mage greeted.

"I, uh, how can I help you?"

"Si, who is it?" Baz called.

Mister Mage frowned slightly at Baz's voice as if he was trying to place it. I assume he does, because his face smoothes out. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I must speak with you. I, well, there's no sense in beating around the bush."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. I hear Baz round the corner, his hand smoothing against my lower back at the same time as the man in front of me says, "Simon, you're my son."

Chapter Text

Baz

The second the words left the man's mouth I felt Simon tense under my palm.

"No," Simon stated simply, one hand coming up to rest on the door.

"I realize that this must come as a shock, but I assure you-"

Simon set his jaw, any of the joy from the previous day seeping out of him. "I found my father when I was 11 years old and you are not my father."

"Can I come in? We can talk this out instead of airing this all out for anyone to hear."

"Why didn't you tell me when we met seven months ago?" Simon asked quickly. "Why wait until now? Why wait until late o-fucking-clock to knock on my door and tell me?"

His muscles tightened under his skin to the point that I wondered if it was hurting him. I wanted to take his hand, to smooth back his hair, to do something to ease the wrinkles resting between his brows and the stress that was clouding his face.

"I knew you'd reactly poorly to the revelation, so I was trying to figure out how to best tell you-" Mage started.

"Forget it," Simon hissed, his eyes equally unimpressed and mad. "Tell me one thing, one thing; how do you know for sure I'm your son?"

There was something to his eyes, to the slant of his lips, I knew the answer to that question was everything he feared and needed to know all wrapped up into one. He'd weighed both options and neither were good.

"I kept an eye on you, since you were a child, Simon, to make sure you were okay," Mage began to explain, but something quickly twisted in Simon's features.

In the months that I'd known him - because I had to remind myself it had only been months - Simon hadn't talked much about his life before the Bunces. Any time the subject was broached, an air of off limits seemed to hang around it - and really, with my shitty childhood, I wasn't one to pry. I had always gotten the impression that his years in the foster homes weren't something to sing and dance about.

"You fucking knew," he spat at the older man. "You fucking knew where I was, what I was going through, and you left me there?" he asked incredulously, the hand that had previously been limp at his side curling in on itself.

"Simon, I really think we should talk about this inside."

"Then by all means, come inside, Mister Mage, come inside and explain to me why you left me in those hell holes. Where I sometimes wouldn't eat for days at a time because the older kids got there first and I barely had anyone looking out for me. Where the heat rarely kicked on, so I was left to shiver it out under a ratty blanket during the winter. Where the only thing that kept me going was the thought that one day my mother and father would come for me, that it was all a misunderstanding and they would come and get me.

"But no, no, my father was off not giving a damn about me. Keeping tabs on me to ease his fucking conscious. I hope you don't feel guilty, I hope that knowing I was bounced around possibly a dozen shelters before I was adopted was enough to help you sleep at night.

"Did you even try to come for me?" he asked, and I could see tears pooling in his eyes in frustration and hurt and a million other things. "Well?" he asked. "Did you?"

"N-no," Mage stammered, obviously unsure of what to say next. "By the time I'd found you, you were six, and I was hitting a good pace with my career," he started.

Simon gave a dark snort. "My mother was working towards her PhD while also working a full-time job and taking care of four other children when they adopted me. My father had two jobs until I was fifteen. When I was thirteen, he was offered his dream job, the one he'd gotten his degree for, but he turned it down because it would have conflicted with raising my siblings and I. So don't you dare use that as an excuse, don't you dare try to-" he broke off, his voice leaving him all at once before returning in a tidal wave of some emotion I couldn't place.

"What did you even want from this? Did you want to know how I was doing? Because I'm doing damn well; I've got a family who loves me, who I love, parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins. I've got a a stunning and supportive friend group. I've got a job I adore, a boyfriend who I love even more; my life is something that I'm proud of and you have no right to be here. You have n-no right to come here and try to fuck up everything I've worked for, everything I've accomplished /
without you."

From the way he spoke, the way the words rushed out of him like he couldn't stop, I think he'd been thinking about this for a long time. Maybe not this exact situation, but the speech - that wasn't something you thought of on the fly.

"G-get out," Simon growled. "It's late and frankly, you're not welcome here."

Mage's face fell, as if he'd been expecting something else. As if he'd been expecting Simon to rush into his arms and rejoice.

He was lucky that Simon hadn't decked him the moment he stepped into the apartment. Lucky I hadn't. Lucky that Bunce wasn't here because I know she'd have seen the first tear in her best friend's - brother's - eyes and lose her shit. God, if Agatha had been here?

So yeah, all-in-all, he was really fucking lucky.

"Simon, I just want to talk; to explain," he tried again, he even had the gall to look at me for support.

"Get the absolute fuck out of my home," Simon stated finally, removing himself from the hand I'd kept on him so he could head towards the door. "Now," he added, his voice startlingly calm.

Something must've finally clicked in Mage's mind because he nodded, his lips slipping over half-formed words as he started towards Simon. Towards the door.

"Your mother never would have wanted this," he hissed, loud enough that I could hear it, though I don't think I was supposed to. "She died wanting us to be a family."

Simon's lip shook. His mother - he, oh, oh God, he didn't know. Of course he didn't, how could he? And Mage thought he could dangle that in front of him? Guilt him into communication?

"What was her name?" Simon asked quietly, something so terribly broken and young about his voice.

"Lucy Salisbury," Mage sneered, a sick pleasure striking through his eyes as he stepped over the threshold.

Simon whispered something under his breath. Something quiet that was for himself only. He pushed the door closed in Mage's face, throwing the locks into place.

He turned back towards me eyes wide with shock and glazed over with memory. Tears pushed down his face, over those million freckles, over the curve of his lips, the dip of his jaw.

"I was her rosebud boy," he said thickly. "That's what she would tell me; how did I not know? Baz, oh God, how did I not know?"

"Si? I don't, I," I faltered, what was I supposed to say to him? What was I supposed to do in this situation?

"Before I was adopted, I bounced around the system a lot," he began softly. "When I was five, I guess, I moved into a new place, met one of the workers. Her name was Lucille, but all the kids were allowed to call her Lucy. We were, we were really close. When I was seven, maybe eight, I forget, she caught me in the kitchen trying to make a treat for a kid whose birthday was the next day. Instead of reprimanding me she, she taught me how to bake.

"When I was about eight and a half I was to be sent to another facility, and I was so scared. I never wanted to leave when they'd try to send me to a new place. But she just wiped away my tears, spoke to her boss to find out where I was getting transferred to. She promised me I'd never be alone and she went with me. She did that every time I got moved.

"She was the only mother figure I'd ever had before Mitali. She was kind and patient and she loved me. She always called me her rosebud boy, told me how important I was, told me how special I was and that I deserved the world.

"I wanted her to be my mother for the longest time, for her to adopt me. I asked her if she would, once. She'd teared up and smoothed back my hair and apologized to me over and over again. I never understood why, why she was so sorry. I mean, I always figured it was because she wasn't like, incredibly wealthy, couldn't afford to give me a better life and all that, but-"

He took a shuddering breath before it all came crashing down. A heart-wrenching sob cut through him, shaking his entire body. His fingers curled into his palms helplessly, as if he could grab onto the memories and hold them there.

"I a-aways thought I'd get the ch-chance to find her again and thank her f-for everything she did," he cried.

I willed my own tears away because he needed me to be strong. He needed me not to cry and if I could do nothing else I'd do that.

"Can you hand me my phone?" he gasped out, hand outstretched blindly.

I scrambled forward to the coffee table and grabbed it up, pushed it into his hand and curled his fingers around it. He nodded in thanks, shakily bringing it front of his face, where tears still poured and he sucked his breaths in sharply.

He pressed a few buttons before holding it up to his ear, trying to get himself under control to no avail.

"P-penny," he sobbed as soon as - I assumed - the line clicked.

Either he'd turned up the extra volume or Bunce was just that loud on the phone because I could hear her frantic, "Simon?" from a little ways away.

"C-can you come home?" he took in another ragged breath. "Please?'

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked.

"N-no. I don't want to get into it over the phone, but please, I need you, I need you here."

"I'll make the drive as quick as I can, but it'll be daylight before I'm even close. Will you be okay? Is there anyone you can call 'til I get there?"

"Baz's here."

"Hand him the phone?"

Simon's shaking had cut back considerably once he'd heard Penny's voice, but the flow of tears was still there. I took the phone gently and propped it up to my ear as I motioned for him to stay where he was.

"Bunce?" I said into the phone as I headed for the bathroom.

"Basilton Grimm-Pitch, what in the actual fuck," she barked, and I could hear rattling in the back of the call as she gathered her things.

"I- well, it's. It's not my place? To tell you, I mean. He's just, he's really messed up right now - where do you lot keep the wash cloths - and I'm not trying to cross the boundaries he's set just because he's currently incapable of enforcing them."

"Cupboard below the sink, to the left. And I need something to go on here, I need to know what I'm walking into, Simon's my brother and my best friend and I've seen him at his highest and at his lowest and I never, never want to hear him with tears in his eyes, Baz. So tell me whose arse I need to kick and I'll handle it."

I rustled around under the sink and extracted a cream colored cloth. I cut on the water, letting it run warm before dousing the fabric. I held the phone tight between my shoulder and ear as I wrung the rag out and swiped my hands dry on my sweatpants.

"He just needs his sister. That's all I know to say."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she murmured.

We exchanged only a few more words before I let her go so she could drive. I rested Simon's phone back on the table and headed towards him.

"Si?" I called softly, approaching even softer.

He picked his bead up from where it was rested against his knees. "Yeah?"

"Can I sit with you?"

"Please."

I rested on my shins in front of him. I showed him rag, and he nodded with silent permission. I pressed forward, taking his chin between my fingers and brushing the cloth over his skin to clear the tears away. His eyes closed, lashes ghosting over his cheek bones, tapping at the freckles there like buttons.

I brushed it over his eyes, over his cheeks, his jaw, anywhere the tears might be resting. I unfurled his fingers and swiped at those too for good measure.

We sat like that for the longest time, with his fingers loosely wrapped around mine, his chest shuddering with each wild breath he gasped for. I smoothed his head back as easily as I could, letting him cry as long as he needed to.

I couldn't imagine what was going through his head. My mother died when I was young, but I knew her, I knew when she was gone and I barely made it through that. But having hope that she was still out there only for it to be crushed.…

"C'mon," I finally whispered. The movement of his chest had finally evened out for the most part, so I felt confident enough to get him to the bedroom where he could sleep.

He shuffled along beside me, no protest or smart comment gracing his lips. I rubbed at the tense spot between his shoulder blades, not knowing what to do and feeling stupid for not knowing.

He settled in and without much thought I pressed a kiss to his forehead. He grabbed at my fingers before I could pull away completely, whispering something.

"What?"

"Will you stay?" his voice was terribly small.

"Only for as long as you want me to," I replied, pushing a lock of his hair from his eyes.

"I want you to, I want you to stay," he croaked, a tear slipping down the side of his nose.

I rounded the bed, crawling in under the covers beside him. Instantly, he burrowed into my chest, head over my heart and body curved around mine.

I played at his hair, smoothing it back it an even rhythm that I hoped was comforting.

"Can you talk?" he asked a few moments later, his voice gravelly.

"About?"

"Anything. I, you're voice helps me sleep," he admitted.

I pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. "Of course."

I whiled away the early morning hours recounting all the mundane stories I could remember from my childhood, trying to avoid parents in general. Which really meant telling him about all the stupid shit Agatha and I had gotten up to. Eventually, his breath evened out, and my topic of monolgue changed.

"Seeing you tonight, I was so scared, Simon. And I was so pissed at him. I've never seen you so upset, so broken, and I just wanted to take all the pain away, even if I had to bear it myself. And that's when I realized it. Well, I think I realized it a long time ago, but just wouldn't admit it. I love you, Simon Snow. And I meant it when I said I'll stay as long as you want me to. And as long as you keep me around I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you're never as upset as you were tonight because that was one of the worst experiences I've ever had in my life."

---

Penny

I jammed my key in the lock of the front door sometime after eight. My eyes hurt and my body was exhausted, but I needed to find Simon. I'd been running off adrenaline all night, anxious to get back to him, scared out of my mind and more than tempted to call Mum for (advice? comfort? I don't even know.)

The living room and kitchen were deserted, so I assumed they were alseep. Good, Simon always needed to sleep after he was upset, it was the only way he'd ever truly calm down.

I sat my keys on the counter and headed towards the fridge for something to drink before I went and crawled up in my bed for a couple hours of sleep.

There was a note under an awaiting glass by the fridge, and I couldn't help but smile at how well Simon knew me.

Pen,

I'm really sorry about calling you and asking you to come home. I know that was an important trip, but thank you for coming back early anyway.

Thank you so much for being someone I can count on no matter what. Thank you for being my best friend, but more importantly, my sister.

I don't know if I'll ever truly be able to explain how much you mean to me. How much our family means to me.

I'd say you can come get me, but knowing you, you're gonna go sleep for a few hours, so sleep good.

I love you so incredibly much that it's dumb,

Simon

Chapter Text

The Phone of Baz Grimm-Pitch

From: Me
To: mordeLOSER

i know i dont say it often but i love you delia and im glad youre my sister

From: mordeLOSER

basilton What The Fuck

…i love you too tho

-----

Penny

"He should be fucking grateful I wasn't here," I seethed, my hands clenching and unclenching as I paced. "Who does he think he is, just, just showing up here! It's bullshit and if I ever see him, oh, if I ever see him," I added the last part under my breath, but I know Simon still heard me.

"Pen, you gotta slow down," he piped up, running his hands tiredly over his face.

I turned to look at him where he sat on the couch, slumped practically in half. When he'd woken up his eyes were puffy and bloodshot, silent tear tracks still marking his face. His fingers shook, the physical manifestation of his overflowing emotions.

Baz was positioned beside him, a comforting hand resting on Simon's knee. He looked a little worse for wear too, dark circles under his eyes, worn lips, a sadness whispering through him like the course of a river.

"I know," I sighed. "I-I just. I wasn't here and I should've been and I'm mad that I wasn't here but I'm even more pissed over the fact that the situation in which I would need to be here even happened."

"I know," he replied, the smallest quirk of a smile picking at his lips.

"Have you called Mum and Dad?" I finally asked after a few beats of silence. I didn't want to, but…

"No," he said quickly. "No. I'm going to tell them, but I don't know, it feels wrong to say something like that over the phone? Next time I've got a free weekend I'm gonna try to go home, I think, talk about it with them in person."

I nodded. "You want me to go with you?"

He shook his head. "It's fine, I know you're about to have a lot on your plate. I'll be fine."

Fine. It's fine. I'll be fine. I don't think he realized that was one of his tells. I always knew he was lying when he broke out the fines. And yeah, I was about to get really busy - like, even the thought of it made me a little nauseous busy - but I'd never leave him hanging like that.

I saw Baz pick at the knee of his sweatpants out of the corner of my eye. He took a deep breath before blurting, "I could go with you, if you wanted."

Simon looked up slowly. "You'd want to?"

"I mean, yeah, of course, and I wouldn't want for you to have to go at that alone, and if Penny can't go then, then I could," he explained, ducking his head sheepishly.

"I, yeah, okay, I'd like that," Simon said.

"Simon, you know Mum's gonna have a field day, right?" I laughed, heading towards the kitchen for something to drink. "Oh! You don't even have to worry about Mum, silly me. Just pray to any deity you know, even if they aren't your own, that none of our siblings are home!"

"Hey, Penelope?" he called. "Do me a real quick favor and shut up."

I grinned, glad to hear that biting humor back in his voice even if it was just for a second.

"It's almost like you don't remember the first time I brought Micah 'round," I said, knowing it would get him riled up. Micah's first visit to our home had been…interesting, to say the very least.

"Baz, you're not going," he said quickly, and when I turned the corner I saw his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

There, mission accomplished. Get his mind off of things, make him laugh.

"Dare I ask?" Baz asked, eyes flicking between Simon and I.

"Don't," we both said in quick unison.

He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by someone knocking at the door.

"I'll get it," I said, already on my way over. I'd seen the clench in Simon's jaw, I knew what he was thinking. Better me than him if his suspicions were correct.

I eased the door open, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. Luckily, it was the best possible outcome.

"Penny!" Agatha squawked.

"Agatha!" I replied, a grin breaking out across my face.

"What're you doing here, I thought you were out of town?" she asked, quirking a soft brow as she leaned in for a hug.

"Family stuff," I shrugged, wrapping my arms around her. "By the way," I added in a whisper, "You've got lipstick on your jaw."

"Fucking hell," she muttered, her face flaming brilliantly.

"Right side, just below the ear; go grab a napkin from the kitchen," I chuckled, opening the dood wider.

She scampered in, disappearing to clean the make-up from her skin.

Hannah stood on the other side of the threshold, her lips - whose color, I didn't fail to notice, was the same as that of the color on Agatha's jaw - curving into a soft smile. "Nice to see you again, Penelope," she said as I ushered her in.

"Good to see you, too," I replied, closing the door behind her.

Agatha eventually joined the rest of us in the living room, a napkin crumpled in her hand, a good-natured glare aimed at Hannah - who just beamed back and winked, which sent Agatha to blushing.

And somehow, Baz didn't notice.

Simon had rested his head on the brunet's shoulder, and they murmured softly to one another now and then. Simon's eyes were tired, his entire expression was just exhausted, and I hated it. I absolutely hated it, but I was glad that Baz was there; glad for the way he was handling everything.

My brother had been through some shit, both romantically and not. And I was just incredibly happy that he'd found someone that he was happy to be with, someone who was also happy to be with him. He wanted and deserved it more than anyone I knew.

"Baz, we gotta head out soon," Agatha said an hour or so later, which earned her a groan and pillow tossed at her middle by Simon.

She laughed, chucking it back at him, and I was struck by just how much I loved my friends.

3rd person POV, a few weeks later

"My weekend's free, so I was hoping I could come up and see you," Simon explained, making distressed eye contact with Penny.

"You know your Dad and I are always happy to see you, Simon, of course you can come this weekend," Mitali Bunce said.

"I might, uh, bring someone with me, if that's okay?"

"And who might you be trying to bring?" she asked, a laugh easing along her tongue.

"Well, since Penny isn't free, uh, Baz may have voulenteered to come along," he explained, seemingly too slow and too fast at the same time.

"Is that so?" she asked, the smile obvious in her voice. "Well, you know the Bunce family protocol for bringing any boys home, you've got to ask both your father and I-"

"Mum," Simon moaned, his face flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm just kidding. Of course you can bring him. Martin!" she directed the last part to her husband, and Simon could picture her throwing her head over her shoulder to call to his Dad who was probably working.

Presumably, he responded, because she called out again, this time with a, "Simon's coming home this weekend; he's bringing Basilton, too."

"Oh, God, the twins aren't home are they? Jay isn't either, right?" Simon scrambled.

Mitali finally let loose a laugh. "The twins are out and Jaya's at practice. You do know they'll all be here this weekend, don't you? If you don't want them all to know, it's only a matter of time."

"I know, I mean, I was hoping the twins would be off most of the time and Jay'd, I don't know, be off with friends? But I know. Let me tell them, though?"

"Of course."

------

~ The Phone of Simon Snow ~

Simon added Apple of my Ila, Phee-nix, and Jaya-B to the group.

Simon renamed the group: LISTEN UP YOU LITTLE NERDS

Simon: h e y

Apple of my Ila: Oh look it's mr. bigshot who's too good for his siblings

Simon: Ila i literally talked to you last week Shut Up

Phee-nix: hey si!!

Simon: thats why Phee's my favorite (hey phee <3)

Jaya-B: lmao fine then

Simon: you know i love you too shshshs

Now that all of thats out of the way, would you lot Listen

Apple of my Ila: what is up my dude

Simon: im coming home this weekend

Phee-nix: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jaya-B: all this for that; would you like a medal?

Simon: if youd let me Finish jay

I'm bringing Baz

Apple of my Ila: hooooooooly shit

Jaya-B: youre screwed Si

Phee-nix: aw thats so nice, I'm excited to meet him!!

Simon: anyway its settled and Phee's the only one allowed to meet him

Apple of my Ila: my schedule is c l e a r e d ill be home all weekend

Jaya-B: who needs practice when you can watch this certified shit show

practice who?? ive never seen a violin in my life

Simon added Bunce Cake to LISTEN UP YOU LITTLE NERDS

Simon: penny help me ???

Penny: I DONT THINK SO LMAO

Bunce Cake has left LISTEN UP YOU LITTLE NERDS

Apple of my Ila: ffu c k

Simon: youre all awful, Phee, youre definitely my favorite

ok but, in all seriousness

i need you lot to be on your best behavior this weekend like im begging you ive got some shit to talk to mum and dad about and im bringing baz on top of that and i need this weekend to go as smoothly as possible

Jaya-B: is everything okay?

Simon: i promise ill tell all of you after ive told mum and dad, okay?

but please, just promise me

Apple of my Ila: since we're being real here: simon, you know we love you, and yeah, we give you hell 99% of the time, but this sounds serious, so i vow to be my best, and you know phee'll be a damn angel

so that leaves you Jay

Jaya-B: you know ive got your back Si :-)

Apple of my Ila: honestly who tf adds noses to their smilies im disowning you jaya you can be my brother again when you learn how to properly do emoticons

Simon: i love you guys so much yknow that

-----

Baz - Road Trip, Hour One

"Thanks again for coming along," Simon said gently as he fiddled with the radio dial.

"Of course," I murmured, reaching out to brush at his fingers.

He smiled. "I'm serious; not every day your boyfriend of only a couple months voulenteers to meet your parents and siblings."

I stopped fidgeting with his fingers, softly cursing under my breath.

"What?" he asked, his brows knitting together but his eyes staying on the road.

"I hadn't even thought about it like that, Simon, I'm going to meet your family. Oh fuck, I don't even know your siblings' real names! You and Penny talk about them with nicknames!"

"Baz," he laughed. "It's alright."

"You've got to give me the run down, we've still got what? Four hours to go?"

He looked over. "Oh my God, you're serious."

"Of course I'm bloody serious! Start talking!"

-----

Baz - Road Trip, Hour Five

"We're about fifteen minutes out," he grinned, looking over at me.

"Give me the Bunce Family Run Down one more time," I said, gripping at the arm rest.

"Baz, you've got practically my whole life story down, you'll be fine."

"C'mon, Si, please?"

He sighed. "Fine. As you know, all of my siblings' first names start with P, but because they all hate that fact, the three younger one's go by their middle names. Never mention the first names if you want to stay in their good graces. Now,

"There's the eldest, Premal, he's 27, joined the military the day he turned 18. You won't meet him this weekend, thank God, so don't worry too much about him right now. Next in line is Penny, then me, but you've got us down pat.

"Next is Jaya, 18. Plays the violin - you two should connect on that one - and can usually be found listening to music. Will probably hang back for the first few hours we're there.

"And then next up are the twins. Ophelia and Ila, who are 16. Phee's the older of the two, and she's the most kind hearted person I've ever met in my life. She'll probably greet you even before Mum does, and beware, everyone in my family's a hugger aside from Jay.

"Ila's the youngest of us all and never let's us forget it. If anyone's gonna give you hell it's her, but she's got a soft side, you've just got to let her get comfortable with you. If you want to really get in her good graces you can always ask about her art or her SO,

"Then, of course, you've got my parents, Mitali and Martin. While both can be addressed as doctor, don't do it. Just go for Mister and Misses. And while you can ask about their jobs, I'd advise against it unless you want a four hour lecture on things that do not and will never make sense. Got all of that?"

I nodded as I listed then all off. "Premal, Penny, Simon, Jaya, Phee, and Ila. And I thought I had it rough with three sisters, when you meet them it'll be a piece of cake for you, won't it?"

He smiled then, that big and goofy smile that had been vacant from his features for too long.

"What?" I asked, smiling despite not knowing what we were smiling about.

"Nothing, it's silly."

"C'mon, just tell me."

"You want me to meet your sisters, I dunno, it's…nice."

"Of course I want you to meet my sisters. I didn't want to ask, and it be too soon and make you uncomfortable, but they're important to me. And you're important to me. It just makes sense in my mind."

His grin grew wider as we pulled down a new road. "You sap," he quipped.

-----

Baz, The Bunce Home

"Martin!" Mitali shouted before throwing the door open.

Simon grinned widely upon seeing his mother, stepping forward for what I assumed was hug. The action was cut off when a figure wriggled under Mitali's arm and flung themself into Simon's.

"Si!" they shouted excitedly, arms wrapped around his neck in a deadly tight grip.

"Hey, Phee," he greeted, hugging his sister back fiercely. So that's Ophelia, my mind noted.

She came up to about his shoulder, with black hair snipped close to her head in a flattering pixie cut. "I missed you so much," she said as she pried herself off of him to adjust her white t-shirt. "Oh! I'm so sorry, hi, I'm Ophelia, you can call me Phee, you must be Baz!" she rattled off quickly before positioning her arms around me in a polite hug.

"Hi," I managed to reply before Simon's hand was in mine and I was being tugged inside.

"Okay," he started. "Baz, you've met Phee, so this is my mum, Mum, this's Baz."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Bunce," my tongue automatically supplied even though my brain was flashing with alarm bells.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Baz. I've heard so much about you," she beamed, pulling me in for a hug.

I heard Simon's soft, "Mum," from behind me, but Mitali was already laughing.

"My husband's around here somewhere. Phee, I'm going to get him from the lab, go with them and make sure your siblings act like I've taught them some kind of manners, please?"

"Sure thing; c'mon you two," Phee said, and then we were off again. Simon squeezed my hand in reassurance before dropping it.

I was confused at first until a new figure barreled into him, taking him back a whole pace. "Knew you missed me, Jay," he grinned, burying his face in thick, chin length, brown curls.

Jaya grunted something back, arms tightening around Simon's neck. Finally, Simon pulled back. "C'mon, Mum said not to be rude. Jay, this's Baz; Baz, Jay."

Jay brushed curls away before extending a hand. "I'm Jaya, aka the first of Simon's sisters who'll kick your arse should you hurt him."

"Jay!" Simon squawked, swatting at her shoulder. I shook her hand, but only briefly because soon she'd whipped around, her bright orange skirt billowing as she rounded on her brother.

"You may be dense, but not that much. You knew there'd be at least one shovel talk if not three this weekend. Just be thankful I kept mine short and sweet," she hissed to him, but her concept of a whisper wasn't the same as most's, and so I ended up hearing it all.

"I can't believe I'm asking this, but where's Ila?" Simon groaned, a mixture of happiness and exasperation already in his eyes. Like that fond look he got with Penny, but multiplied times 10.

"Here!" a new voice called.

I turned my head to find a girl I hadn't previously noticed on a couch I hadn't previously noticed, giving me the most unsettling smile I'd ever received. Her hair was pulled back into a taught braid, black and beautiful dark pinks and purples mixing together. Her earlobes were pierced from bottom to top and her clothes were spattered in what I hoped was paint.

"Ila Bunce," she said. "I'm getting the feeling we'll get to be great friends," she winked.

"Ila!" Phee admonished, giving her twin a significant look. "Shush or be nice."

In retaliation, Ila stook her tongue out at her sister and said something I didn't catch. It quickly dissolved into heated bickering between the three youngest Bunces, and Simon sighed next to me.

"These are my siblings," he stated lovingly before his voice became barely a mutter as he said, "Oh, thank God, there's Mum and Dad, c'mon," he tugged on my hand as he called out a, "Dad!"

I let myself be pulled along, my mind a tizzy of incoming information, but my heart steady in my chest with the weight of his hand in my own.

Chapter Text

Baz

"Ila, if you don't pass your sister the juice-" but Mitali's threat was never fully established. Ila's shoulders sank comically as she made a face at Jaya before passing the juice over to her.

"Oi, Jay, pass that over when you're done," Simon called from beside me. He grinned at something Ophelia said to him as he buttered a muffin for himself.

I nibbled at my toast, mostly content to just watch the proceedings around me. The table was alive with energy. Mitali at the head corralling her children over a newspaper as she drank steaming tea. Martin her mirror, having taken the crossword section from his wife in exchange for a kiss, now working on the word puzzle. I was next to Simon who was next to Jaya, with the twins across from us.

Ila and Ophelia fought good naturdely over everything, all elbows and beaming grins. Ila and Jaya, however, just fought, but there was still enough twinkle in their eyes to combat and possibly construed malice.

Ophelia kept up a pleasant stream of conversation with Simon; they discussed school and food and personal lives - apparently, she had a girlfriend, and apparently, Simon hadn't known. Sometimes she'd turn to me and ask me soft questions that floated across the table like bubbles. Mostly, though, I was content to get lost in the loud and infectious warmth of the breakfast table.

Martin spoke to me a few times, mostly to get my opinion on his word choice for his crossword. Apparently, since I played along, this nestled me deep in his good graces.

Every time he'd address me by name, Simon would smile mid-conversation, tapping his ankle against my own.

It was comfortable, this house, this family. Sturdy wooden furniture and warm paints on the walls and constant chatter. It was so vastly different from the table I'd grown up around. That had been all dark, ornate furniture in even darker rooms with only my father quizzing me on the business section every so often.

But this, this was beautiful. I wanted to soak in every second of it, I wanted to be able to recall it on a whim. I wanted to be able to remember Simon's smiling face and Ila's sour morning tone and Ophelia's snorting laughter and Jaya's classical music blaring from the headphones around her neck. I wanted to see jam and immediately think of fluffy muffins and the smell of coffee and tea and juice and butter all melding together in an unfinished symphony of smells as the voices of most of the Bunce family floated in the in between.

This place was magic and I wanted to remember everything.

Finally, Simon took a small breath and called out to his mother. "Mum! Are you free today? You, too, Dad!"

His siblings all looked over curiously, but made sure to keep up their current tasks should they be caught.

"Of course we're free," Mitali smiled, obviously pleased. "What's up?"

Her hair was swept back from her face, smile lines etched deep into her brown skin. Her eyes glowed, and they reminded me of Simon's; kindness and joy and mischief all in one. She was tired but comfortably so, ready to take on whatever she needed to for the sake of her children.

"Can we talk after breakfast?" he asked.

"You and I? Or you and your father and I?"

"You and Dad and me, probably Baz too, yeah?" he asked, addressing me.

"If you want me there, yeah," I replied around a sip of coffee.

"So yeah," he continued. "You and Dad and Baz and me. Got a couple things we need to talk about 's all," he explained with a soft shrug.

Mitali narrowed her eyes. First at Simon, then at me. I'd never been so fearful in my life. "What did you two do?" she asked immediately in a no nonsense tone. We hadn't even done anything and I wanted to confess.

"Nothing-" Simon was quick to say, but was spoken over by his speculating mother.

"You two've gone and gotten married haven't you?" she asked.

We both scrambled to choke something out, but we weren't quick enough, too surprised by the change of subject.

"Well, fuck me," Jaya said. "I always thought Pen and Mic'd be the first ones to marry, should've known it'd be Si," she contined.

"Watch your language at this table, Jaya Bunce," Mitali hissed before turning back on Simon. "Simon, I love you, but I swear-"

"Mum, no! We- no! We're not married, no."

"Engaged, at least?" Ila offered.

"No, God, Ila, shut up before you get me in trouble for something I haven't even done yet," he growled at his sister who just looked back with a shit-eating grin.

"We'll all talk after breakfast," Mitali agreed, obviously flustered, before straightening out her paper.

-----

After breakfast came and soon Jaya and the twins were ushered upstairs with the express order to stay there until retrieved.

Mitali and Martin sat on one couch, leaving a comfortable blue one free for Simon and I to occupy. Simon sunk down next to me, nervous energy under his skin already.

Mitali spoke first. "You're sure you two haven't eloped?" she prodded, her husband laughing silently beside her.

"Absolutely sure," Simon responded.

"Alright, then what is it you want to talk about?" she asked.

Simon fidgeted with his fingers, his face caught somewhere between fear and sadness as he worked up the nerve to speak.

"Simon," she whispered gently, everything about her now completely serious. "You know you can tell us anything, don't you? We'll love you the same no matter what it is you need to say."

He shook his head, maybe to clear it, maybe to tell the tears welling in his eyes no, maybe to tell his mother that wasn't what he was worried about. I don't know and I hate that I don't.

But then he looked to me for support and my heart broke, or maybe it melted, or maybe it fluttered. I don't know.

I reached out my hand, furling his fingers in mine. "'M right here, love," I murmured, and he nodded.

With something like finality drifting across the ocean of his face, he met his mother's eyes, then his father's, whose gaze he held sadly. "My biological father found me."

"Oh," Martin breathed.

"H-he showed up at the apartment a couple weeks ago. The night of Winnie's wedding," he clarified. "A-and," he stopped, and I brushed the pad of my thumb over his knuckles reassuringly.

"I knew him," Simon whispered.

His parents paused.

"You did?" Martin asked gently, a quiet kind of sadness in his eyes.

"He was an event coordinator or whatever it's called at the Watford Con," he explained. "He, he's the one who emailed me, who I spoke to on the phone, who ushered Penny and I around for nearly three days. I-I don't understand, I don't-" he stopped, trying to hold back his tears.

Martin was the first to move, heading towards his son with purpose. He squished onto the couch on Simon's free side and wrapped his arms around him fiercely. I could hear the new tears that had been added to the mix - Martin's, I believe. Simon turned towards him, letting go of my fingers to burrow into the hug.

Mitali swiped at the skin und her eyes, but it didn't stop her tears. "What happened?" she asked, ever the one to keep the conversation on track. Simon's chest heaved as he swiped at my fingers - a gentle go ahead.

"I-I was there," I piped up. I think Mitali had forgotten I was there because she started rather violently. "Uh, God, it's mostly a whirlwind. He didn't say much, Simon, Simon didn't let him, he was courageous, really let him have it. But ultimately it boils down to the fact that he kept tabs on Simon when he was a kid. And," I stopped, I don't know if what needs to be said next is my place to say.

"My biological mother," Simon croaked out. "All the time, and she just, and I-I," but he couldn't finish it.

I stubbornly pushed back my tears. "She passed away," I finished, trying to level out my voice.

"Who is he." Mitali stated, not asked. There was something burning in her eyes, a mother coming to protect her young.

"Mage. Davy," Simon hiccuped, pulling back from his father.

"That bastard," Mitali cursed, smacking her flat palm against the nearest piece of cushion. "I always knew he was no good, no damn good; if he comes near you again, Simon, you let me know. He'll wish he'd never messed with my son."

Simon looked up the moment his mother began cursing. Vaguely, I recalled him telling me she wasn't one for the practice.

"What're you talking about?" he asked, voice already straining. "Do you know him?"

"Know him?" she called, motioning for me before heading for a cabinet across the room. "Your father and I went to school with him," she explained as I followed behind.

She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "He was a right prick back then too," but I couldn't tell for sure. She stacked books in my arms until finally she tugged out a tall, blue volume and set to flipping through it.

She muttered along under her breath as she read off name after name, looking for the man in question. "David Mage, pages," she tapered off, flicking through the book quickly.

"This one, right here," she said, placing her finger next to a face. I leaned across the book to inspect the photo.

"Has he always had the vaguely unsettling facial hair?" I asked absently.

Mitali laughed despite herself, but quickly stopped. "But if that's him, oh, Martin," she called sadly.

Martin looked up. "Lucy," he replied, finishing a sentence Mitali hadn't begun yet.

This caught Simon's attention. "Lucy, you, you knew her, too?" he asked, an edge of franticness to his voice.

"She and I were friends," Mitali whispered. "Oh, Lucy, I'm so sorry," she said to no one in particular as her fingers clenched over the page.

"Is she in there?" he asked, pointing to the book.

She looked up, tears stark against her face. "Of course, do you want to see?"

"I barely remember her face," he explained sadly. "But I remember her voice."

Mitali crossed the room. I could see the questions in her eyes, how Simon knew her, how he could remember the voice of a woman Mitali herself hadn't thought about in years. But I saw her stamp them down as she settled next to her son, they could wait.

With shaking hands, she paged through the book. I couldn't see the pictures from where I stood, but I saw the flicker of recognition in Simon's eyes, and watched as his face crumpled.

His tears hit the pages, one after the other, and he tried to push them away, but there were too many. Martin kept fingers under his own eyes, and water slid down his knuckles. Mitali's tears, though, were quiet. They slipped down the flat part of her nose, collected on her chin, but never seemed to leave her skin.

I awkwardly tugged at my fingers, unsure what to do, wanting to help, but not knowing how.

"She was an amazing woman," Mitali finally said. "She was adventurous and courageous and loved so fiercely, and I didn't realize until now just how much of her is in you, Simon. She'd be so proud of you," she continued.

Simon's shoulders heaved. He reached out a hand to his mother, who took it and squeezed it tightly. "And if you want, I could tell you about her one day."

He nodded, his mouth trying to form words, but not able to. She used her free hand to rub slow circles into his back and murmur something to him that seemes to make him feel a bit better.

"Thank you," he replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Anytime, kiddo," she said, resting her head on one of his broad shoulders.

-----

Simon

I felt a hand slip into both of mine, intently pulling me towards the stairs. I looked to either side to find Jay on my left and Ila on my right.

"What've I done to deserve this company?" I asked.

Ila frowned up at me. "We could hear you from upstairs earlier," she explained. "So we gave you your time with Mum and Dad and Baz," she said the last name with a wiggle to her thick brows.

"Ila!"

"But now it's time for your siblings to do what we do best and feed you junk food until you forget your problems," Jaya added firmly.

I couldn't help but laugh. I squeezed their hands tight, whispering my thanks to them as I was pulled up the stairs and into Jay's room.

The left wall was how it had always been, covered floor to ceiling in old, yellowed sheet music. The bed was pushed against that wall, sheets fastened to the posts at the end of the bed.

The sheets trailed up, somehow attached to the center of the fan, with more draping towards her desk on the right of the room.

"This is…fancy," I commented.

Phee peeked her head out from behind the velvety blanket that worked as a door on the whole structure. "Only the best for a Bunce in distress," she grinned.

"And yet, I was never treated so royally," a voice crackled from inside the fort.

"Sh!" Phee squawked.

"Is that Premal?" I asked, letting go of my sisters' hands to duck inside the tent. I was greeted by enough pillows for ten people, blankets, an alarming amount of food, and a laptop, whose screen held the grinning face of my eldest sibling, Premal.

"Pre! You ruined the surprise!" Ila whined as she scurried in behind me.

"You know he can't keep a secret," Jay supplied as she entered from the other side of the fort.

"Well hello to you too, Jay. Really feelin' the love from all of you, aren't I?" Premal asked.

"How have you been? We haven't talked in so long," I said, scooting closer to the computer.

"Things've been hectic, so I haven't been able to let you know, but I just got settled in a place of my own, I was gonna call you this week," he explained, tugging at his ear. "But then Phee texted me, so I think I should be the one asking how you're doing?"

"I'm fine, you've obviously got a lot to deal with-"

"Simon," Premal said firmly. "I could be anywhere on this earth doing anything, and I would still drop everything to see how you are. You're my little brother and I love you, you know that?"

"Why don't you ever say nice shit like that to me?" Ila called.

"Because you're mean," Premal joked back, laughter evident in his voice. "Now, catch me up on what's going on. Do I need to kick someone's arse for you? Is it the mysterious boyfriend I've heard about but haven't so much as seen a picture of?"

"Baz is a reasonably famous pop culture entity and you haven't even looked him up. Pre, have I taught you nothing?" Ila asked, hand over heart.

"Why are we acting like he isn't in the house at this very moment and can't be retrieved in no more than a minute?" Jay deadpanned.

"Jay!" I shouted.

"Oh, were we not telling that part?" she grinned back innocently.

"Yeah, just like we weren't talking about Tyler and the fact that he gave you the flower in your windowsill because it reminded him of you," Phee shot back.

"Ophelia Bunce!" Jay screeched, launching herself at Phee.

"Oops," Phee peeped, sending me a wink before she scrambled out of the way.

"Okay, getting back to that later," Premal said, pointing at Jay and Phee. "What's this about a boyfriend in the house? Our dear Simon brought someone home with him? They grow up so fast don't they, I?' he asked Ila, giving a fake sniffle for good measure.

"Oh yeah, Baz offered to tag along," Ila said.

"Bring him to the fort!" Premal declared. "This is adorable but I need to meet him for the full effect."

"I thought we convened here so you lot could interrogate me about my life," I said, but it was too late, Ila had already dashed off to find him. "Why do I even bother," I whispered.

Moments later there was the loud sound of uncoordinated footsteps and Baz's rumbling voice. "Ila, you're going to dislocate my wrist if you- oh, oh God you must be Premal, hi, nice to meet you."

Baz shot ne the most comically distressed look I'd ever seen in my life, but I was too busy laughing to help him.

"Basilton, was it? Listen, I'll cut right to the chase here, what're you intentions with my little brother?"

"Pre!" I called half-heartedly through my laughter.

"I, uh, I'm. Is this a trick question?" Baz asked.

"No. See, as the eldest I have a lot of authority here, so getting your hand dunked in warm water or a string of curses written across your forehead while you sleep isn't too hard; that's why I suggest you answer carefully."

"I don't…have intentions?" Baz asked, but took one look at Premal's face and backtracked. "Wait, no, I've got inentions, p-plenty of them, in fact. Fuck, that sounds worse. I just mean that I don't like, plan to hurt him, and I intend to, uh, stay in this, for the long haul? I see us adopting a cat, and getting a small flat - I've thought about this a lot - basically as long as he'll have me I'll be here, so, yeah."

Everyone was quiet for an achingly long minute.

"I need someone like that, holy shit," Jay muttered under her breath.

"That's so genuine I might cry," Phee said into Ila's shoulder.

"Anyway, you passed the test, can't wait to meet you for real; Ila, please escort him from Fort Bunce, please and thank you," Premal said, nodding appreciatively.

Once he was gone, all eyes turned to me.

"Yeah, I can't explain."

------

I grabbed his hand before he could make his way all the way down the hall. "C'mere," I said, pulling him into the bathroom.

My voice was still scratchy from the hours before. After he'd been banished from Jay's room, we all talked for a bit about him before Jay, ever the one to keep us on track, reminded me that I said I'd explain the reason for our visit. It got way more emotional than I'd thought it would.

I'd thought after spending an hour with Mum and Dad talking it out would get all the tears out of me, but apparently not. There was just something about being face to face with Phee, seeing Jaya's emotions, Ila's fury and helplessness. Having Premal there in general.

But Bunces weren't ones to break promises, so after I'd explained everything, and Phee threatened to "end him, should I ever see him," they pulled out even more food, and we ate and chatted about useless things until Premal had to go, then came the ice cream and black and white films.

"Hey," he hummed, resting his cheek on my shoulder as I tapped the door closed. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I murmured. "I needed today, I think. Since Pen and I moved out, having all the siblings together is hard. Even today Penny was missing, but still, it was…theraputic."

"I'm glad. Not for the situation, but that you got that time."

"You were a big hit, by the way," I said, trying to steer us away from that topic. I didn't want to think about it much more today.

"Simon, I can explain-"

"You don't have to," I chuckled. "Really, you don't. I know it caught you off guard talking to Pre, but what you said was…really sweet, and I. Baz, listen," I said, taking a deep breath. "We've only been together a few months-"

"I love you," he blurted.

"What?"

"I, I do. I love you, and I really hope that's where you were going with that, fuck, is that not where that was going? Don't feel like you have to say it back, because you don't-"

"Baz, I love you, too."

He took my face into his hands gently, a grand smile unfurling across his cheeks. "Would you mind repeating that?"

"I love you, too," I said with even more vigor. "And I don't even knw how to tell you how much you mean to me or how much it means that you came here, with me, without even having to be asked. You wanted to come because you care about me and I'm not used to that in a, like a romantic way, and it's nice and you're nice and I'm rambling."

He pressed his forehead against mine, our breaths syncing before he finally said anything. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"Good news, I really want you to kiss me right now."

~ The Phone of Baz Grimm-Pitch ~

From: Me
To: My Chosen One

simon, go to Sleep

To: Me

jay plays the exact same instrumental cd all night long on repeat ive memorized the guitar part

To: My Chosen One

when we were younger mordelia went through a phase where she couldnt sleep unless her music library was going

we shared a wall

did you know ive got the entire beatles discography memorized

To: Me

shfnsns whats your favorite song

To: My Chosen One

Go To Sleep it's 2am and youve got to drive tomorrow

also…it's hey jude because i can remember my mum singing it to me as a kid but i'm not opposed to ob-la-di, ob-la-da

To: Me

…fine

and duly noted

To: My Chosen One

good night, simon

To: Me

good night

i love you

To: My Chosen One

i love you too

To: Me

woAH it's weird being able to say that out loud and getting it back, ok my actual: Good Night I Love You (woah)

To: My Chosen One

you're such a nerd, but good night i love you too :)

To: Agathaaaaaaa

screenshot_romanticbullshit

hey so mark my words i love him and im 100% going to marry that boy one day

To: Me

THIS IS LIKE WATCHING A DISNEY MOVIE WHAT KINDA TRUE LOVE SHIT IS THIS IM CRYING

~ The Phone of Simon Snow ~

To: Bunce Cake

screenshot_helovesmenothelovesme

anyway i love life and also baz grimm pitch and im not opposed to spending the rest of the former with the latter

To: Me

im gonna be bringing this up when im in a more coherent state of mind just letting you know

Chapter Text

Baz

I shuffled around as quietly as I could. Even though the twins were bunking together for the duration of Simon and I's stay, and I was in Ophelia's room, I still shared a wall with them.

And I'd heard waking Ophelia up any time before 9am was asking for trouble.

I grabbed up my toiletry and make up bags, and slowly crept down the hall toward the bathroom.

The clock on the wall read 5:06 when I got in the shower, and by the time I stood back in front of the mirror, it read 5:22.

I set to work, moving through my hair routine as quietly as possible. I had just unzipped my make up bag, a small thing no bigger than an envelope, when someone knocked on the door.

I wrenched it open, neck hot with a spike of anxiety.

"Si, why're you up?" I asked, expelling a small, relieved breath.

"I promised the twins I'd make breakfast this morning," he rasped, rubbing at his scrunched eyes. "Why're you up?"

"I needed to shower and all, and I didn't want to disrupt anyone else, so I figured I'd do it early."

"You're never gonna disturb anyone in this home before eight, and that'd just be Mum having her coffee," he said seriously. "So sleep in next time."

Next time…

"That would've been nice to know before I went through all this at arse o'clock," I chuckled.

He grinned. "What're you doing?" he asked.

"I figured I'd go ahead and get my make up done for the day, since Ags and I are working on some of the footage for anniversary video. One less thing I've got to do later, y'know?"

"Can I stay?"

"I mean, yeah, but it's not that riveting of a thing to watch," I shrugged, stepping out of the way to let him in.

He pressed a kiss to my cheek before taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. "But it's important to you," he stated. "And you're important to me."

"Oh, okay."

"It's okay if you dont want me to stay, you can tell me," he said honestly.

He rested his chin in his hand and watched as I dug around in my bag. "Well, the last person to take interest in my make up routine was Aggie," I laughed.

"No boyfriends?"

I shook my head. "They liked it when I wore it, but the process of was usually a drag to them."

"I look at it this way," he said. "You listen to me ramble about baking all the time, even thoigh you've mostly got no idea what I'm talking about. But you still listen, because it's important to me. So why can't I do the same for you?"

I stepped over and pressed a long kiss to the top of his head. "That means a lot to me, thank you" I murmured.

"Of course," he said, resting the side of his face against my stomach.

We stayed like that for a moment before I gently pulled away. "But it really isn't that riveting," I reiterated.

"Just get to it," he said with a lopsided smile.

"Bossy, bossy," I tutted, rummaging around in the bag once more.

I was halfway through my first eyeliner swipe when he asked, "How do you do that?"

I finish it out with a mostly steady hand before I turn to him. "What? The wing?"

He nodded, chin in his hands, eyes attentive.

"Practice, mostly," I shrugged. "When you first start out, it's usually a littled jagged, or uneven, unless you're Agatha and can get it right on the first swipe. But I digress," I paused, then, "Do you want me to show you?"

He nods again, moving from the edge of the tub to lean his hip against the counter.

"So there's actually a lot of ways to do it," I started, adopting something akin to my tutorial voice. "But I take and make the outline," I said, drawing it out to match the other one.

I turned toward him and hold my eye closed.

"Then what?" he asked.

"Then you fill it in. Usually I'll make a line through the middle, like this, then take and fill in the thin part above the inside of my eye, then fill in the thicker part above the outside of my eye."

I finished it off and turned fully towards him, giving him a smile. He's looking at my eyelids hard enough that I'm a little curious, but then I notice how his eyes bounce from the tube to his face in the mirror back to me all in a split second and it makes sense.

My smile turns softer. "Si?"

"Yeah?" he asked, frowning at the liquid eyeliner.

"Do you want me to do yours?"

His cheeks pinked slightly as he realized he'd been caught. "I, uh, yeah, actually."

I rifled through my bag for one of the small, travel-sized samples that one company or another had sent Agatha and I, tugging it out from under dirty brushes that I need to clean and half-used tubes of chapstick.

"You've gotta be still so I don't stab you in the eye," I murmured as I gently push down on his shoulder so he'll sit back on the edge of the tub.

He chuckles soundly before closing his eyes and patiently waiting, hands clasped and tucked between his knees.

"It might tickle," I warned, before uncapping it.

"Baz, just go for it," he grinned, so hard, in fact, that his eyes crinkled.

I rolled mine in response, but couldn't help but smile as I lean forward. He visibly braces himself before the first swipe, but surprisingly, doesn't flinch. I go back for the middle line, and he doesn't move. It's only as I'm filling in the outside that he shimmies a little, but I'm done before he can do any damage.

I repeated the motions on his other eyelid and that time he's ready for it, not even a twitch coming from him.

"You can open your eyes."

He does, only to grab the front of my shirt and tug me forward.

His eyes are always stunning, always full of warmth and laughter, but when they're framed like that, dark skin and even darker freckles offset by pure black lining it's enough to push the breath out of me.

"Wha'd'you think?" he grinned, fluttering his eyes dramatically.

I let my fingers ghost over over the sides of his face, right by the skin around his eyes that creases when he laughs especially hard. "Beautiful, as always," I hummed.

His smile turns bashful and I can't help but pull his face towards mine for a kiss.

It's slow, lazy, like we've got all the time in the world and he's trying to convey that with just his lips. I sling my arms around his shoulders, crossing my wrists evenly.

He finally pulled back and rested his forehead on my shoulder, and I turn to press a kiss to the crook of his neck. He scrunched his shoulder up to his ear and snorted in a way that kind of makes my heart melt?

"Are you ticklish, Snow?" I asked in disbelief.

"No," he insisted, but his shoulder and ear are still well acquainted and he won't look at me.

"You are!" I said, quickly darting around to his other side and pressing my face into his exposed neck there. I let loose a string of lightning fast kisses that make him snort with laughter.

"Baz!"

"Can you two not have your shenanigans in the bathroom, I need to use the loo," came a muffled voice from outside the door.

"Absolutely not," Simon called back, grabbing my face and kissing me soundly enough that Ila had to have heard, even with a door between us.

"You're both heathens," she laughed.

There's a few more seconds of kissing before I regretfully retreat back to the mirror to finish what I'd started.

Ten minutes later we're downstairs, alone in the kitchen. Ila must have gone back to bed, because she's nowhere in sight. Simon's standing in the middle of the large kitchen, a bowl under one arm, a whisk in the opposite hand as he mixes batter.

"What kind do you want?" he asks, shifting the metal utensils around.

"Just plain," I reply, doing what I do best by setting up the coffee pot.

I hear batter drop onto the griddle, sizzling as it runs into a perfect circle. He hums under his breath, which must be something he cuts out of his videos because I've never heard him do it before.

"Can you grab the blueberries out of the fridge? Second shelf, all the way to the right."

I shuffled past him, planting my hands on either of his hips and pressing a kiss to his cheek, muttering a, "Sure, love," as I passed by.

And of course, that's the exact moment Mitali walks in. She gave us a small smile, something soft in her eyes as she watched over us, but it's gone as soon as Simon says, "And my favorite sous chef finally awakens. Slap on an apron so you don't ruin those nice pjs and come help."

"No coffee first?" she asked, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say she was pouting as she pulled an apron practically out of thin air and tied it around her waist.

"Not 'til the first batch is done," he said, handing her a bowl of something as I slid the blueberries to him across the counter.

"This takes me back," Martin said as he entered the kitchen, graying hair sticking up every which way, glasses perched precariously on the edge of his long nose, smile on his face.

"Martin, my love, my darling," Mitali called.

Martin, who was already at the coffee pot, grabbed an extra mug, filling it with just enough coffee and a splash of cream.

While Simon's back was turned, he snuck the coffee to Mitali, who took a gulp before pressing a kiss to her husband's cheek. As Simon turned back around, she shoved the mug into Martin's hands and shooed him quickly, a practice they'd obviously been doing long enough to have it down to a science.

"Mum, I can smell the coffee on your breath. And I could every Sunday," Simon laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss into her messy hair. She patted his arm sweetly, leaning into his side with her head on his shoulder.

I hadn't seen any pictures of them, when they were younger, but looking at them I could see it, how it must have been.

It makes me wonder, a little, what it would have been like to grow up in a house like this. With parents like Mitali and Martin. With older siblings and siblings your own age and lively Sunday mornings making breakfast and casual touches of affection.

I wonder if it would have been different, if my mum were still around. And I know if she were I probably wouldn't have Mordelia, and I'm not wondering about life without Mordelia, but.

I wonder if my mother were still alive if I'd want to step foot back in my childhood home. I wonder if I'd want to take Simon to meet her. I wonder if she'd like him, if they'd get along, if they'd chat and laugh and embarrass me in the best possible way.

But she's not and I won't know-

No, all I have is that cold house, those dusty drapes and ornate carvings and a father who leaves the room when I enter and a stepmother who doesn't know how to connect and two younger sisters who don't know my name save for what Mordelia's told them.

If I took him to meet anyone it would be the Wellbeloves. And they'd adore him, I know without a doubt they'd take him in as quick as they pulled me in. Because he means something, everything, to me, and that matters to them. I need to call them, when I get home.

"You okay, babe?" Simon asked, and I hadn't even felt his arms around my shoulders and his nose at the edge of my hair.

"Just thinking," I said in a soft whisper, rubbing my hand over his. "You know my mum would have loved you? So much."

And he realizes, and he gives me that smile, the one that makes me feel like a schoolboy all over again, and buries his nose in my neck until I laugh. "Love you," he hummed, and I know what he means.

"Love you, too."

"Can you two be gross somewhere else?" Ila asks, sliding onto a stool beside me.

Simon sent her an expertly timed finger right as both Mitali and Martin's backs are turned. He planted one more kiss to my hair, just to spite his sister, before turning back to his griddle, which Mitali has been manning in his absence.

"And the rest of the demons?" Simon asked.

Ila snorte. "I passed Jay's room and he was on the phone, but I bet after the first bit of grease popping we'll see him. And I actually haven't seen Phee yet?"

"Here!" Phee called, taking the stairs way too fast. "Did Ila eat everything or is there food left?" she asked breathlessly.

"Shut up," Ila griped, hooking her arm around Ophelia's throat in a half-hearted headlock.

"No fighting in the kitchen," Mitali sighed.

"She started it," they both cried in unison.

Simon snorted, dropping a slice of bacon on the griddle. "You know, I'm sure Mum and Dad and Baz and I can handle all this food by ourselves," he shrugged.

Ila turns to him wide-eyed. "You wouldn't."

"I would, and will, if you two don't shut up."

"First I have to hear you make out with your boyfriend in the bathroom and now I'm being threatened! Simon, you're despicable."

Simon smirked and Mitali raised her eyebrows over her coffee mug. "Well then," she whispered.

"Oh, Mum, don't act like that's the worst thing that's happened in this house. Penny and Mic used to do that on the living room couch," Simon said, waving his spatula in a dismissing manner.

"Don't remind me," Phee groaned. "God, they were so gross."

"You don't even get to pull the gross card, I'm the one who has to live in the house when they see each other after having not for six months or more," Simon grimaced.

"You know this is like the worse first impression you lot could give Baz of Mic, right?" Jaya asked, shuffling down the stairs.

"He hasn't met Mic yet?" Ila gasped. "That's going to be fuc-funny, funny. Mum, don't give me that look."

Simon looked over at me with a dead serious expression. "Micah's as bad as they make him out to be," he nodded, then laughed. "Worse, probably, but you'll like him."

"At the rate all of you are going, he'll have to," Jay snorted. "Because everyone knows Pen and Mic are gonna end up married before it's all said and done, and Baz doesn't look like he's really going anywhere," he shrugged. "'S all I'm saying."

"I don't see Penny getting married before she finishes uni," Ophelia said, pursing her lips. "But then again, I don't see Baz ducking out, either. He just might have to like Micah."

"He's literally right there, Ophelia," Simon said, pointing at me.

She turned to face me and beamed. "I know."

I laughed, shaking my head and moving towards the coffee pot. As I reached for a mug, I heard a low whistle.

"Well, shit, he's already figured out where the mugs are, we're definitely not shaking this kid any time soon," Jay laughed.

I smiled, keeping the fact that the only reason I knew where they were was because I'd seen Martin get some a while ago to myself.

"Mugs are negotiable, it's once he finds the utensils we enter the point of no return," Ila fired back.

I rest my back against the counter and watch over the top of my mug as the four Bunce siblings in front of me bicker.

Simon had a towel thrown over his shoulder as he slid bacon onto a plate. There's this grand smile on his face, one I was worried I'd never see again after Mage showed up on his doorstep. He looks so at peace and I just want to stop time here, in this kitchen, with these people.

Mitali was wedged in the corner of the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen. She caught my eye and raised her mug to me. I raised mine back and we sipped in unison.

She rested her mug on the counter beside her and beckons me over. "Help me set the table?" she asked, but she was already stacking plates in my hands.

I follow behind her, where she's holding napkins and utensils.

"I think it's time we talk, Basilton," she stated calmly.

"I, uh, I-" I stammered out.

She looked up and she must see the fear on my face because she immediately pats my shoulder. "Not like that," she assured me. "This isn't me trying to run you off.

"Quite the contrary, really," she explained, taking a plate from the stack in my hands and resting it on one of the placemats.

"When you parent as many children as I have, Baz, you learn quickly how to assess a significant other. And in these past couple days, I've seen that you're a good man. Do you know how I can tell?"

I shook my head, not really sure if I was supposed to speak.

"I can see it in how you interact with Jaya and the twins. You care so much about my son, and understand that they mean everything to him, so you want to have a good relationship with them. I can see it every time you look at Simon, too, because you look at him like he fastened the stars in the sky.

"When Simon first came to live with us, I was scared for him. He'd been through so much, Baz. But he was still so kind, so giving, even when he was scared out of his wits by one more home, one more family. And he eventually adjusted, realized we were it, we weren't giving up on him, but it was a long road. And I couldn't love him more if I'd given birth to him.

"But as he got older, people tried to take advantage of his nature," she said, resting another plate down. "And I saw what that did to him too. I held him when he cried because people would move in and out of his life so fast it made his head spin. Petty people who he thought cared about him but just wanted instead.

"And I brushed those tears away and told him that not everyone was like that. That he had his siblings forever, who would always be there for him, and that there was somebody out there who couldn't wait to fall in love with him one day."

She looked up at me. "And I'm forever grateful that I was right. I couldn't have asked for anyone better to love him. You make him laugh, of all things, that's how I knew it was real, because you make him laugh."

She sighed, something shaky, a little worn. "I'm not telling you this to scare you, I'm telling you so you'll understand how special he is, how much he deserves to love and be loved. And to ask that you be good to him."

I sat the remaining plates down on the table and pulled her into a hug. "I love your son more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. And that terrifies me. Because he's, he's so much better than I'll ever be, and he deserves so much.

"You really don't have to tell me how special he is because I knew the moment I met him. And I'm going to spend the rest of whatever time we have together, whether it's a day or the rest of our lives, trying to be someone who's worthy of his love."

She squeezed my shoulders tight, whispering a, "Thank you," in my ear.

"Incoming!" Martin called as he trucked into the room carrying a platter of fresh fruit to set in the middle of the table.

There's enough time for Mitali and I to set the remaining plates and for Martin to cuff me on the shoulder and say, "Thank you, for everything," before the Bunce siblings swarm in.

Seats were taken and conversations were made as steaming food was passed around. We talk and laugh and the room was so full of love I felt drunk off of it.

We sat at the table for a long time after all the food was gone, but eventually jokes were cracked and chairs were pushed back and plates were taken away.

"We gotta hit the road soon, love," I said, but even I'm saddened by the prospect.

He sighed. "I know."

We drag our feet while rpunding up our belongings, but soon it can't be helped and we're standing at the front door, bags at our feet.

"I wish you didn't have to go so soon," Mitali said softly.

Simon sighed. "Me too."

"Come back soon?"

"Of course, Mum."

"And Baz, don't be a stranger, hm? You're welcome here any time."

"Thank you."

Everyone stood awkwardly until Phee rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Simon's middle. "Don't let it be so long before I see you again, okay, big bro?"

And then Ila piled on, tugging Jay with her. Jay extended a hand to me, and then someone's calling for Mitali and Martin. And we stand there, making plans and promises. I'm invited back no less than five times, and somewhere amongst it all I'm making the promise to come back soon.

We eventually retreated to the car, with the Bunces still living at home waving us away. Looking in the rearview I'm filled with so much love for people I've only just met, but I don't know how I could expect anything else.

Once we're on the road good, Simon reached over and laced his fingers with mine. "Thank you, again, for coming with me."

"I had a great time. You're family's amazing, though I can't say I'm surprised since they did produce you."

He grinned.

I turned my head towards him. "You know, my family," I started. "You know it might not…ever be like that, right? Are you okay with that?"

He flicked on the turn signal and glided over into the turn lane. I almost wondered if he'd even heard me, but he spoke soon after.

"Family isn't…" he paused, trying to find the right words. "Family isn't the people who made you. Family is the people who you choose and who choose you back and who love you, no matter what.

"Your family doesn't have to be him in the same way that my family doesn't have to be David Mage. My family is Phee and Ila and Jay and Premal and Mum and Dad. My family is Penny and Agatha and Winnie and Dan and you, Baz.

"So no, your father may never be like that, but you've got a family who will be. You've got Mordelia, who I haven't met yet, but can't wait to, and didn't you say you had an aunt? And you've got Agatha and the Wellbeloves and Hannah and Penny and me," he squeezed my hand a little harder. "So yeah, I'm okay with your father not inviting us out for the holidays or some bullshit like that because I love you and I don't want to waste my time on anyone who can't see how incredible you are."

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling our clasped hands to my lips.

-----

To: MordeLOSER
From: Me

delia

To: Me

basil

howd it go @ the inlaws

To: MordeLOSER

shUT UP

but it went…….really good

To: Me

god i can see the smitten-ness on your face from a city away

To: MordeLOSER

;)

anyway i was thinking about it on the drive home and i was wondering of youd maybe want to meet simon?

because ive officially met all of his siblings, and his parents, and i cant really do that but i want him to meet some part of my family

and, i cant believe im being mushy over text but mordelia youve always been good to me and youve always accepted me and i want him to see that there is a good side to my family

To: Me

f u c k o f f

now im crying

but yeah you dumbass id love to meet your bf whenever youre ready for me to

To: MordeLOSER

thank you mordelia

I love you

To: Me

I love you too

nerd

Chapter Text

Mordelia

I'm not a very nervous person. I like to think that Basil got all the nervousness in the cosmic scales of our sibling arrangement, and so to balance that out, I was a natural born badass.

As it turns out, I'm not completely fearless and am, in fact, still capable of feeling anxiety.

Which is why I'm sitting in my dorm room, earbuds tight in my ears, with the slowest, most soothing music I have on my playlist going.

News flash: there's nothing slow and soothing about any of my music.

See, my brother, Basil, wants me to meet his boyfriend. It's not that I haven't met other boyfriends, its just that I haven't met one in years and also this one is one of my favorite Youtubers that I've been religiously following since I was probably 13.

Also, I'm kind of the only representative of Basil's relatives because Mum means well, but hasn't ever quite connected with him on that level, as with our sisters, and Dad's well…an arse, to put it mildly.

But Basil and I have always been thick as thieves. And because of that fact I usually just pop into 'Annoying as Shit Little Sister' mode and he forgives me later, but I don't want to run Simon off. He's good to and for Basil, and even if I am an annoying little shit sometimes (most of the time) I love my brother and want him to be as happy as possible.

Also, I've been trying to get my hands on literally anything Simon's baked for as long as he and Basil have been together and I have yet to receive a morsel; which I find to be complete and utter bullshit.

"Mords, I'm off for the weekend!" my roommate shouted over my music, waving her hand slightly as she pulled a small rolling suitcase through the door after her.

I waved her off, finally extracting my earbuds and dropping them beside my leg. I exhaled deeply, thoughts ping-ponging around in my mind.

I still had an hour before I had to catch my bus to Basil and Aggie's place, and while my time could probably be best spent taking a shower or working on my class work, I wasted at least 10 minutes alone on a shitty pep talk.

"Mordelia, you're better than this. You have no reason to be nervous, because Basil wouldn't be introducing you two unless he was ready for you to be introduced. So you're going to clean yourself up, put on some new mascara because you've been wearing this coat for three days and that's how you get eye diseases, and then you're going to go be the best damn little sister that has ever walked this earth."

With a sigh, and the quick shake down of myself from my shoulders to hands, I flung myself toward my dresser to get ready.

Not 10 minutes later, my phone buzzed. Of course it was while I was jumping like a fool to get into my damn jeans, and so I had to answer sounding like I was bouncing on a bloody trampoline.

"Hello, Basil," I huffed, shimmying the jeans up my hips.

"Delia- wait, what are you doing?"

"Oh, f-" I hissed as I stubbed my toe against my bed frame. "Shit, damn, shit," I cursed, shaking my foot out. "I'm getting dressed, why do you ask?" I finally answered, pouring something sickeningly sweet into my tone.

"You sound like you're herding cats," he replied.

"Well, beauty doesn't come easily. What can I do for you?" I asked again, shuffling over to my make up bag. I still needed to pull my shirt on, but trying to do so while on the phone usually ends in me having a shattered phone screen and a ripped shirt, so I decided against that particular form of multitasking.

"Oh, yeah, uh, so: I'm panicking."

"Ah, there you are, dear brother, I was getting worried that you might never return."

"Shut up," he muttered, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. One point for me, then.

"Let me see if I can guess this one right. You're worried about me meeting Simon because a. what if I'm not on my very best behavior, b. what if we don't get along, and 3. after meeting his family you're worried that we don't stack up, and now you're blaming yourself for a bunch of shit that isn't your fault."

"You went from letters to numbers-" he started, but I was already barreling past that.

"Did I miss anything?"

He paused, then, "No, you damn psych major."

"Good, because I only have good responses for those three things. So, one: I promise I will employ at least 40% of the manners that were taught to me by my various governesses. As for two: he's nice, I seem nice, it'll be fine. Three: I'm not even going to delve into any of that today, because today's a good day, and also we'd be here for hours, so instead, I say this.

"I'm here for you. Always. Remember that, okay? If no one else is, I'll always be there, looking bloody fabulous, ready to pick your sorry arse up and dust you off."

"Shut up, Delia," he mumbled, something akin to tears thick in his voice.

"It's just," he said softly. "He's…really, really special. And I don't, I- I don't know how to say what I'm trying to say, Mordelia. I don't even know what I'm trying to say! I just want, I want it to go well. You two are pretty high up there on the list of people I truly care about and of course if it came down to it, I'd choose you, but I don't want to ever have to choose between the two of you!

"You've been there for me during times I was barely there for myself, and you've been a terrible and amazing sister for 18 years and I don't know what I'd do without you. But I love him. Like, really love him, and I'm scared because I haven't introduced a boy to my family in so long, and never one that means as much to me as he does."

I scuffed my bare toes against the carpet, listening to the emotion creep into his voice. I'd never heard him so smitten about anyone, never so serious, never so scared.

"I'd never ask that of you, Basil. The choosing, I mean. And if he loves you like I know he does, he'd never ask that either. So if that's what this is, a fear of having to choose, just know that no one's asking you to."

"No, no, I know." He stopped for a moment, obviously trying to pick his words carefully. "It's just I've been asked to make that choice before and it's a bloody awful feeling."

I frowned, teeth digging into my lip.

Suddenly I'm a kid again, in my room, toys scattered on the floor. I can hear Dad's booming voice echoing from the foyer, I can hear Baz's angry sobs, I can hear the pleas and I can hear the ultimatums, too. I can taste the salt from my tears, feel the fear that lodged in my throat once upon a time.

And that was just as a bystander. As a listener. As someone who didn't quite understand the situation.

No.

I shook my head, now wasn't the time for that.

"Have you thought about telling Simon about this? I mean, not all of it, but maybe a little. It might nake you feel a little better if you two were on the same page."

He laughed softly. "To be honest, I hadn't. It all just…seems silly. Because I know it's not going to happen, but…"

"But what if it does. Yeah, I get it."

I wasn't sure what else to say. I did get it, those fears of the what if, maybe we didn't share the same ones, but the principle was still there.

He gave a breathy laugh, and I knew he was wiping tears away. "Alright, that's enough of that. You need to go finish getting ready, I need to go answer the countless texts to this damn group chat. I'll see you in a bit, Delia. Thanks for the ever-enlightening conversation."

"Yeah, yeah, just be glad it'd be a conflict of interest, otherwise I'd have to charge you for the past 20 minutes."

"You're literally not even certified-" he began, but I was ready.

"Bye, Basil, see you after a while!" I interrupted, hitting the end button before he could get any farther.

Ah, sibling competition.

* * *

I raised my right hand to knock, using my left to try to pull my hair out of my eyes and lipstick. I'd somehow managed to get off at the wrong stop, which meant I had to walk 20 minutes in the middle of the worst winds.

But it was fine, because I have a beautiful sense of direction, and managed to still get my arse to Basil's on time.

Point two for me, not that anyone was counting. (I was counting.)

"I know you have a key, Mordelia!" he shouted from somewhere deep in the flat.

I rolled my eyes, digging the key in question out of my pocket and jamming it into the lock. "I was trying to be nice, y'know, use those manners we talked about," I responded once I was over the threshold.

I kicked my shoes off just inside the door, pushing then to the side with my socked feet. Peering around the room, I spotted Basil pulling a shirt on over his wet hair.

"Well, someone's running late," I commented, traveling deeper into the flat.

"Shut up, Delia," he groused. "I spilled my coffee on myself," he explained, but I could tell by the way he ducked my gaze there was something more.

"And how'd you manage that?"

He mumbled something under his breath as he bustled toward the kitchen.

"What was that?"

"Fucking Lucy barked and scared me half to death and I flung my coffee cup all over myself. Soaked my hair, my clothes, everything. You happy now, demon?"

I couldn't help it, I really, really couldn't. Once the first peal of laughter passed my lips I was a goner, a sound like a howl came after that, and then a snort, and then the tears.

"I'm going to ruin my makeup," I finally heaved out, arms around my stomach, legs crossed tightly, cheeks aching with unadulterated glee.

He huffed, biting the insde of his cheek to keep from grinning. "You're awful, you know that? Absolutely and undeniably."

Before I could answer Basil's phone went to pinging, and he looked to it with a frown, muttering something that sounded like 'damn hellions.'

Whatever the texts said must've been good because a begrudging smile lit up his features and he started towards the door.

Ah.

----

~ The Phone of Basilton Grimm-Pitch ~

The Annoy Baz Chat

Simon: I'm outside
Simon: wait shit
Simon: wrong chat
Agatha: tell baz to let my dog out of my room where ik hes left her
Agatha: or delia either grimm works
Simon: SH I T
Simon: id made her some treats but i left them on the counter
Simon: lucy ive failed you im so sorry darling
Agatha: fksnfksncms
Penny: i'll put a note by the door so one of us will remember to mail them out
Simon: ty pen

-----

Simon

I frowned down at my phone, mad that I'd forgotten Lucy's treats. At least Penny had thought it through, though, and I'd be able to mail them out instead of then wasting away before I saw Baz or Agatha again.

I'll need an airtight container though, so they don't stale. I thought. Well, no, maybe that ugly one is still in the back of the cabinet. Need to remember to check that when I get home. Or maybe I could get Pen to check it for me.

Before I could switch over to Penny and I's own chat, the door pulled open in front of me. Baz stood smiling, wet hair pushed back out of his twinkling eyes and dripping over his ears and shoulders.

"Hey, babe," I grinned, leaning to peck the corner of his lips. "Running late?" I asked, pulling a black strand out into his field of vision.

"I wish," he replied, returning the kiss to my temple. "C'mon, Delia's already here."

"Oh, good," I chirped, toeing off my shoes and following him towards the living room.

A girl came into sight, something in the glint of her eyes telling me that without a shadow of a doubt she was Baz's sister.

Her hair was a pleasant brown, and her skin was lighter than his, her nose not as defined and her face more rounded, but her eyes screamed relation.

"Delia, this's Simon, as you already know. Simon, my sister Mordelia," he said, waving his hands between us.

I smiled brightly, extending my hand to her. "I'm really glad to finally meet you, Baz's told me a lot about you," I said earnestly, trying not to outwardly wince under her strong grip.

"Ditto. He doesn't shut up about you, you know that?" she asked, tone innocent, but the shape of her smile was once of well practiced deceit.

"Mordelia!" Baz croaked, a cough of surprise creeping up his throat.

"Sh, Basil, before you hurt yourself. And I mean, am I really lying? We talk just about once a week and-"

"Do you remember the talk we had before you came?" he asked tersely - which seemed to be the response she was looking for.

"Yep!" she replied, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Our eyes locked for a split second, but it was still long enough for me to get the entire wave of regret that was crashing through him. Ah, siblings.

"Anyone want anything to drink?" he asked. "Because I sure do. Might regret leaving you two alone together but what the hell," he said, all in one terribly long breath. He didn't even stay to finish his sentence, just letting it trail behind him as he moved away.

"Sorry about that, but you've got siblings, you must know how it is, yeah?" she said, draping herself across the plush chair right next to her.

"Oh yeah," I nodded. "I've got three younger siblings, two older, I definitely know how it is."

"Five siblings?" She whistled, shaking her head. "And I thought I had it rough with three. What kind've age gap have you got with them?"

"Well, let's see," I said, sitting in the corner of the couch. "Premal's 27, so that's five years; Pen's 23, but our's comes down to months, though I don't remember how many. Jaya's eighteen, so that's four, and then add two more years for the twins, so that's six. But the twins were five-ish when Mum and Dad first took me in, so there's never been a time where I didn't know all of my siblings at once."

"Shit." Mordelia nodded appreciatively.

"What about you?"

She counted them off on her fingers. "Basil and I have a five year gap, then our sisters are 12 and 11 respectively, so the biggest gap I've got is seven years."

"Yeah, but I've got a 12 year one," Baz said, motoring back into the room with what looked like coffee and Lucy at his heels.

"That's not so bad, about what's between Premal and Phee and Ila," I interjected as Lucy hopped up into my lap and used me as leverage to get onto the arm of the couch. She licked aggressively at my hand as I reached up to mindlessly pat her and run my hands over her silky ears

"Mm," he hummed, gingerly sitting down so as not to spill his drink. He tossed his legs across my lap as he continued speaking. "But I started staying with the Wellbelove's full time when I was what, Delia? Seventeen, eighteen? So I didn't get to spend the time with them that I wanted, and they were so young then, that by the time I was able to even think of going back round they'd grown up without me."

"Yeah, but you still got me, and if we're being honest, I'm the coolest." Mordelia shrugged, cracking a grin.

Baz gave a gentle smile. "You're alright."

She shot him the finger, tongue peaking out between her lacquered lips. "Arse," she muttered, folding her arms up across her chest.

I looked between the two of them, and it struck me how similar they were, even just by the way they sat. They fell across furniture like an ocean over rocks, conforming to each little crevice; they even rested their heads the same way, against the back at what looked to be an uncomfortable angle.

A lot of their mannerisms were the same too. Their grins started at the same corner of their lips, and their eyes cut in the same fashion when snippy comments were made. As they started diving deeper into embarrassing childhood memories, their arms moved in almost eerie synchronicity, and their laughs layered over one another, the same in every way but pitch.

I could see the tension leak from his shoulders the longer we sat around and talked and the easier Mordelia and I got on. It was nice to see him so at ease, eyes closed, recalling stories by memory or the lead of his sister.

Lucy finally migrated down to my lap, wedging herself between my stomach and Baz's legs. She sighed in contentment, her eyes fluttering shut.

Mordelia seemed to have noticed, because her phone was pointed toward us, and I could tell she was zooming in.

"Agatha," she said simply when she caught me looking.

It wasn't long after that that Baz and I's phones both began to chime with texts from Agatha about how if we wanted to be domestic we'd have to get our own dog because Lucy was hers.

I laughed, snapping another picture, one where all four of us could be seen, and sent it back to her, telling her I'd be taking up her life, if she didn't mind.

----

~ The Phone of Simon Snow ~

The Annoy Baz Chat

Agatha: hands off the pup snow
Agatha: if youd like to be domestic ik some great shelters in the area where you can get your very own dog
Simon: hm
Simon: no
Simon: thefourofus.jpg ;)
Simon: i'll be taking your life if you dont terribly mind
Agatha: OH AND MY SISTER TOO
Agatha: shes not here but tell mordelia that i see her smirk and shes a dirty rotten traitor
Baz: will do
Agatha: get out of here basilton, youre on my list too
Simon: agatha im getting a lot of bad vibes rn
Penny: gjsbfjsnfd
Agatha: anyway you lot have fun im coming home to claim them tomorrow so make of today what you will
Penny: harsh
Agatha: on second thought simon i'll trade them for penny in a heartbeat
Baz: well damn
Penny: wtf deal
Simon: Absolutely Not
Penny: DEAL, AGATHA
Simon: THE BETRAYAL
Agatha: LMAO IM TAKING YOUR LIFE NOW SNOW
Baz: he's laughing so hard he cant reply
Penny: hah NERD
Agatha: ive got shit to do but you guys are Messes b y e

-----

Mordelia, later that night

"All right, I wish I could stay, but I've got schoolwork and I'm closing the next couple nights which means I need to advance sleep," I said, hauling myself out of the chair I'd been planted in all day. I flicked crumbs from my shirt as Basil and Simon pushed themselves to their feet.

"Thanks for taking the time out of your oh, so busy schedule to grace us with your presence," Basil said, pulling me in for a hug. I hooked my arms under his and squeezed with all my might, an old game from when we were kids that I'd gotten insanely good at.

Once he'd released me, I turned to Simon. "Are we doing this?" I asked, tentatively raising my arms.

He grinned. "Yeah, bring it in," he said, motioning me forward.

"Oh my god, you make amazing cheesecake, you're hilarious, you give great hugs; is there anything you can't do, Golden Boy?" I asked, giving him a quick squeeze back.

"If you're trying to butter me up so I'll mail you the leftovers from next week's video it's absolutely working," he chuckled as we seperated.

"It'd be a shame if her container got mixed up with Lucy's is all I'm saying, Si," Baz shrugged, holding his hands up in mock defense.

"Basil, why would you even joke about that?" I squawked, turning on him.

"I know, right? How could I ever do that to my poor Lucy," Simon deadpanned, reaching down to pat Lucy's head amicably.

"You two were just made for one another," I grumbled, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, that's the general consensus," Simon replied.

-----

Baz, a little later

Simon was curled up as tight as he could be, head in my lap, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. "Mordelia's really great," he said through a tired whisper. "I had fun."

I smiled, brushing my fingers through his hair. "I'll admit I wasn't sure how today would go, but you two hit it off, huh?"

"She's got a sick sense of humor," he smirked.

"Yeah, still not sure where she got that from." I frowned thoughtfully, pulling at a curl and watching it snap back into place.

"I've seen some of the things you laugh at, babe. I think she gets it honest."

"I think she gets it from Agatha," I muttered, cheeks reddening.

He reached up, his fingers barely brushing the skin of my cheeks. I sighed gently through my nose, leaning closer to his hand.

"I never thought I'd get to have this," I admitted to his fingertips.

"Wha'd'you mean?" he asked softly.

"I mean you. I mean someone who gets my family, who doesn't care, who's as good to my sister as he is to me, who my sister actually likes, who's so kind and wonderful and loves me."

I tried to push the tears building in my throat away, but one managed to slip past. It plopped on his cheek and his eyes suddenly sobered from whatever sleep they'd held.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, sitting up and turning himself toward me. He grabbed my face in both hands, gingerly brushing tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "It's okay."

"I know I just- growing up, so many people told me I couldn't have this- that I didn't deserve this, and I-I guess I'd started to believe them," I heaved, my eyes scrunching shut.

"Would you look at me, please?" he asked after a few moments of my quiet tears.

I cracked a soggy eye open, then the other, looking at painfully honest blue eyes.

"I don't know who told you that, Baz, but it's the biggest lie I've ever heard. You're brilliant and you're talented at everything you try your hand at and you're so generous and kind-hearted and funny and so, so beautiful. You're one of the most deserving of love people I've ever met, and anyone would be lucky for the chance to love you; I'm lucky to love you."

He slips his hands down to my shoulders, tugging me forward. Instantly, I bury my face in the crook of his neck, letting him wrap his arms around me. "And I do love you," he said. "I hope you know that."

"I know," I croaked. "I love you, too."

"If you ever want to talk about it, any of it, Baz, I'm here and I'll listen. I want to listen, I want to be here for you for this stuff, I want you to want me to be here for you."

I laughed, I don't know why, but I pulled back and buried my face in my hands and I laughed. And I cried. And I sat in awe of this man before me, who wanted to hear all my childhood bullshit, who wanted to understand, who was willingly letting it into his life if only to be more equipped to help me.

"I want to tell you, I do, I've wanted to for a whole, I just…I don't want to burden you with my all shit, Si."

"It's not and never will be a burden, Basilton Grimm-Pitch," he said forcefully. "I wasn't a burden to you, was I?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. "I didn't want you to see me that night, when Mage showed up. I didn't want something so beautiful in my life to see something so ugly because I didn't want you to see that man and wonder if I could be like that, be like him.

"But you didn't back down. You stood by me, you held me while I cried, you wiped up my tears and you shuttled me to bed and you held me until I fell asleep. And I know how much it meant to me, how much it still does mean to me. And when you're ready, I'm willing to do the same for you. I won't judge you, and I won't think any different of you, I'll love you and I'll do my best to understand, okay?"

I nodded, a weight lifting from my heart, from my shoulders. "Do you want some tea?" I asked.

He nodded. "Do you want me to grab some blankets?"

I smiled. "Yeah. And you left some sweatpants here last time, I just stuck them in the top drawer, left corner, if you want to change."

"We'll meet back here in ten?" he asked.

"Yeah, and then I think, if it's okay, I think I'd like to tell you some things."

He pulled me forward, planting a kiss on the top of my head. "And I think I'd like to listen."

---

~ The Phone of Basilton Grimm-Pitch ~

To: MordeLOSER
From: Me

are you fucking psychic or something

From: MordeLOSER
To: Me

thats a secret i'll never tell

To: MordeLOSER
From: Me

i cant believe you just quoted gossip girl @ me in my time of need

To: Me
From: MordeLOSER

you know you love me

To: MordeLOSER
From: Me

lgjsjfjd stop

From: MordeLOSER
To: Me

xoxo, gossip girl

anyway

what are you on about now

From: Me
To: MordeLOSER

i told simon

and i feel so much better

From: MordeLOSER
To: Me

like the edited version or

To: MordeLOSER
From: Me

no, everything

like everything from age 13 onward; all the stuff abt how i started to stay at the wellbeloves, when i finally moved in with them

leaving you and the little ones

god, mordelia im still so sorry

From: MordeLOSER
To: Me

dont you dare apologize

you did what you had to and im still so fucking proud of you for it

that house wasnt your home and you deserved better

and you never left me or them, so dont even try to feel bad about that

im proud of you for telling him, im proud of how far youve come, im happy that you found someone that you feel comfortable enough sharing these things with, im so happy for you basil

To: MordeLOSER
From: Me

thank you

To: Me
From: MordeLOSER

love you too big bro

hey so does this mean youll start listening to me when i tell you things

To: MordeLOSER
From: Me

Not A Chance

Chapter Text

Penny

I roll my pen between my teeth, looking down at the notebook in front of me.

Static characters. Good plot idea, but so-so execution with bad pacing. Underwhelming/anti-climactic. Overall 2/5

I sigh loudly, tossing my head back to rest it on The Couch's cushion. I wanted to finish this review so I could film when I got home, and be fully rid of this book by the end of the week. It had sat on my nightstand for months while I read everything but it, but then comments came in asking if I'd finished it, and I felt like I had no other choice.

I'm glad I finished it, though, if only to know to stay away from the author's other works for a few years, give them some time to find their footing.

-----

~ The Phone of Penelope Bunce ~

From: Me
To: Mic

hey so in a few years when i want to be nice and try something new by this author Tell Me Not To

From: Mic
To: Me

honey omg

i mean will do of course but omg

From: Me
To: Mic

distract me please
wyd

From: Mic
To: Me

work stuff :(

but im almost done so :)

From: Me
To: Mic

youre such a dork

i miss you so much :/

From: Mic
To: Me

i miss you too

but it wont be like this forever, yknow?

just a couple more years and ill be able to come back over there for good

and ill be able to tell you in person not to mess with that author ever again

From: Me
To: Mic

i really cant wait

even if we'll go broke buying blankets for your cold-natured arse itll be worth it

From: Mic
To: Me

p e n e l o p e

From: Me
To: Mic

i miss you enough that i kinda even miss your ice block feet touching my feet in thr middle of the night

From: Mic
To: Me

i always said youd warm up to them

ba dum tss

From: Me
To: Mic

youre such a DORK g o d

From: Mic
To: Me

you knew what you were getting yourself into when you locked this down years ago sweetheart

hey can we skype tonight

From: Me
To: Mic

aww

yeah we can :')

From: Mic
To: Me

yeah i really miss simon :/

From: Me
To: Mic

middle-finger.jpg

From: Mic
To: Me

okay maybe i miss your face a lil bit too

From: Me
To: Mic

*heart emojis*

From: Mic
To: Me

and /im/ the dork

From: Me
To: Mic

you Are dont try to kid yourself

From: Mic
To: Me

:*

i gtg but ill talk to you later??

From: Me
To: Mic

yep!

i love you

From: Mic
To: Me

i love you too honey

* * *

I smile down at my phone. I really do miss him, but the love outweighs it, so I'm okay with waiting a little bit longer.

My notifications ping with new mentions on Twitter and comments on YouTube. I exhale, clearing them out once I realize they aren't out of the ordinary, and sit my phone to the side.

My pen is back in my hand before I know it, scribbling away at notes for discussion topics, and reminders for myself for a few things I wanted to bring to the attention of my followers. There'd been a few things that rubbed me the absolute wrong way and I knew I'd forget them all if I didnt put them down in writing.

They won't even be in the main video, but in the so-called "aftershow", which is reserved for the books I especially loved or hated. The aftershow, known as nickels or dimes, because I restrained myself to five or ten likes/dislikes. This one might just be a quarter.

Finally, an agonizing amount of time later - read: twenty minutes - I'm done, and can reward my work with a well deserved treat - again, read: the strongest cup of bitter coffee I can pry from whomever happens to be working the counter.

Stuffing everything back into my bag, I head off for the counter, haggling with Dev for that cup of coffee and maybe something extra if he could be bothered to take two steps to his left and slide the case door open.

By the time I've made my way back over to my seat, the afternoon sun is a shining spotlight on me. I huff, slumping down and ducking my head against it so I can make quick work of the danish in my hand.

Minutes later I brush my hands clean on the hips of my jeans - a bad habit I couldn't seem to break - and methodically repack my things up.

"See ya, Penny!" Dev calls out from behind the counter, and I give him a small salute as I back out of the shop.

"Same time tomorrow!" I assure him before slinging the door closed.

The sidewalk outside of Ebb and Flow is one I know well. The cracks and crevices and well worn paths as much of a home as my parents' house.

I tramp across them with the same reckless abandon as I always have, not watching where I'm going - simply not needing to, at this point. My sneakers never find home in any of the splits, though, so I think I'm all right.

My phone rings about two blocks from the front door of the coffee shop, and suddenly I'm juggling my bag - weighted down by notebooks and my laptop and a hardback and everything else - and my phone.

"Hello?" I answer, not even bothering to check the caller I.D.

"Hey, babe," Agatha's bright voice greets. "What're you doing?"

"Hey! I'm headed home to work on a video, what about you?"

"Taking a break from the worst essay ever. How are you, I miss you," she whines, pouted lips evident in her tone.

"'m fine. Busy as hell, though. I've got a paper I can't seem to crack the code to and that interview coming up, channel stuff, general life stuff. I'm drowning, Aggie," I say, inflicting something particularly melodramatic in that last sentence.

"Aw, I'm so sorry," she offers. "Can I be honest?"

"Obviously."

"The next reason I'd called you aside from desperately missing you is because we have a match this weekend? So, I'm not quite sure where to go from here."

The laugh bubbles up from my chest and falls from my mouth before I can think twice. "I'm rounding the corner, and can see the bus stop, text me the details and I'll see what I can do."

"I'm not saying I'll pay for dinner, but I'll pay for dinner if you come."

"You don't have to bribe me-"

"Sh, sh, sh. Just let it happen."

"Fair enough. Give Lucy a kiss for me, and Baz a rude gesture. I'll try to see you lot this weekend."

"Awesome! Bye, love you."

"Love you, too."

* * *

"Simon," I call, dragging the word out with as many extra Os as possible.

"Penny," he replies with the same alphabet's worth of Es.

"What're you doing?" I try, dropping my shoes at the door and my bag on the couch.

"Editing, dying, I know they're synonyms, so take your pick."

"Don't even remind me," I groan, rounding the corner to his room and immediately flopping down face-first onto his bed.

"How many've you got going up this week?"

"Just the two," I reply, voice muffled. "Review and aftershow, but they're both gonna be long and I'm dreading it."

"Was the book at least good?" he asks, turning around in his chair to face me as I roll my face out to meet his gaze.

"No," I mutter petulantly.

He winces. "Oo, that sucks."

"Yeah, it does. And I've got a paper to write and an interview to prep for and I feel gross and anxious."

"And?" he supplies.

"And I really fucking miss my boyfriend."

His face collapses into genuine, soft sadness. "I know, Pen. I'm sorry. 've you talked to him lately?"

"We talked like an hour ago, but it's not the same."

"No, I know that, but."

He leaves it there, and I know we're both thinking about how there really isn't any good way to finish that sentence.

"You wanna play our music as loud as can respectfully be and power through this stuff we need to get done?" he asks, breaking the tense silence.

"Always."

* * *

Hours Later

"That's Mic," I say as I read the text that's just popped up on my phone's screen.

"Take it," Simon says, already shooing me. "Tell him I said hey, though."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for today," I add, popping a kiss on the top of his head like I used to do when we were kids, and heading toward my room.

"No problem."

I make it to my room in record time, already opening the lid to my laptop before I'm even fully seated.

Skype's tone is already chiming when the screen comes to life, and I answer the call as I get settled.

"Hey, stranger," I greet, shoving pillows around and tugging hair from getting trapped behind my back.

"Hi," he greets softly, his warm bronze features shifting into something gentler.

"I've missed your face so much," I blurt, fingers twitching to smooth across the slope of his long, rounded nose.

"Pen, god, I can't even tell you how much I miss you. I just want to get over there so bad."

My shoulders drain their tightness as he speaks. I've loved him for over seven years - he kind of has that effect.

"All right, stop before I cry. How's work?"

"It's work." He shrugs. "Boring, but it pays the bills. I've got some time off coming up, so." He shrugs again.

"What're you gonna do?" I ask, head tilting to the side in question.

"Well, I do have some audiobooks to catch up on," he starts, a grin I know well slipping onto his dusty pink Cupid's Bow lips.

"Say you do, huh?" I grin back.

"Yeah, this really cool girl I know recommended me a ton and I haven't been able to get through them all-"

"Shut up," I say through a pleased laugh. "You know you're excited to listen to each and every one of them."

He huffs out a laugh, disturbing one of the loose coils of hair in his face. "I mean, yeah, I never said I wasn't."

"Dork."

"Nerd."

After that we trickle into our usual conversation; he asks me about school and my interview, about the channel, too, he loves to hear about the channel. And I ask him about school and his American friends and the ultimate frisbee team he somehow joined, which both of us are still baffled over.

And it's nice. So nice, don't get me wrong.

But I miss the way his hand feels in mine and the way he'd carry around a cleaning cloth for my glasses because I always forgot. The smell of his cologne and the feeling of his lips pressed to my temple.

Long distance is kinda shitty.

"Hey, hey," he murmurs. "Why are you crying?"

I don't even realize that I am until he points it out. And suddenly, like Wiley Coyote, I'm free falling, tears streaming down my face.

"It's such bullshit," I grumble. "I wish I could just get to you, but I can't, you're a whole ocean away, and it's bullshit."

"Honey, I know, I know, I'm so sorry."

"No, don't apologize. You're doing what you need to do so you can do what you love, and I'm doing the same thing, and one day we're gonna be two people who do what they're passionate about together, that day just isn't today."

"But soon," he says, so tenderly and earnestly that I believe him, that those years will fly by and he'll be on my doorstep in a split second.

"Soon," I agree.

* * *

We ended up falling asleep like that, but when I woke up the next morning, the call had ended and their were a string of heart emojis in place of my boyfriend.

* * *

A Few Days Later

My legs are tugged up under me where I sit on the couch, book of essays ny emerging voices perched in my lap.

Simon's on the other end of the couch, doing a surprise Twitter Q & A, going through the whole range of human emotion.

"People have no fucking concept of boundaries," he mutters as he scrolls harder.

"Mm," I hum in agreement, not even looking up from my book. The author is weaving a tapestry of years worth of tribulation with sparse prose and I'm sufficiently enamored.

"All right, enough of that," he sighs, dropping his phone into his lap and throwing his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Hey," I call, tracking my place with my finger. "Wha'd'you wanna do for dinner tonight?" I ask, but before he can answer, I'm interrupted by his text tone.

He rolls his head forward onto his chest and quickly unlocks his phone. His mouth doesn't curl as it usually does when he opens one of Baz's texts, so I know it isn't him.

By the way his eyes widen ever so slightly, I'm actually not sure who it is.

"Uh, we'll go out for dinner," he says quickly, pattering out a reply as he hops up from the couch. "I have to go help Winnie with something, I'll see you later."

Simon

I look down to my phone, reading the reply two more times.

Shit.

"Be safe, don't make stupid decisions, love you!" Penny shouts after me as I stuff my feet into my shoes and tumble out the door in one motion.

"Love you too!" I manage to cry before the door slams behind me.

~ The Phone of Simon Snow ~

To: Me
From: Micah Mouse

yo

can i ask you a question

To: Micah Mouse
From: Me

yeah of course whats up?

To: Me
From: Micah Mouse

can you come to the airport and make sure i get to your apartment in one piece i was gonna surprise penny but i didnt think this through simon

To: Micah Mouse
From: Me

holy shit yeah!!!! when!!!!

To: Me
From: Micah Mouse

uhhhh

now?

To: Micah Mouse
From: Me

fucking hell micah

* * *

I'm standing in the airport holding a napkin with an M written on it in pen that I bummed off of some tired business woman who looked ready to kill.

I assume Micah's already off the plane, but the humor can't hurt, you know?

It's been so long since I've seen him, that for a moment as I look around the crowd, I'm worried I won't recognize him on sight.

It's when I spot his familiar head of hair in the crowd that I realize how stupid of a thought that was. It'd be like me wondering if I'd forgotten the twins or Premal.

"Micah!" I call over the crowd, pushing myself up onto my toes so as to be better seen.

"Simon!" he replies with equal fervor, slipping through the crowd to get to me.

"I am so glad to see you." He grins, white teeth neat and tidy inside his lips.

"Yeah, I can say the same. What're you doing here?"

"I didn't want to tell Pen because there was a huge chance of it falling through, but, uh," he does a small, nervous movement, almost like a shimmy where his hands are in his pockets. "I'm back here for good."

"For good?" I repeat.

"Yeah, Si." His face scrunches into the most blinding, cheek-aching grin. His cheek bones, high and rounded, push up into his eyes, and his thick eyebrows are thus displaced farther up. "Just about the minute I got the job confirmation I booked a ticket," he explains.

"Oh my god, we've got to get you to Penny!"

"I know, which is why you're gere. Your task, should you choose to accept it, is to get me to y'all's apartment safely."

"I've missed your 'y'alls'," I tell him, and I'm only half joking. "I mostly only hear them if Hannah's around."

"Hannah?"

"Agatha's…friend? I'm still not entirely sure."

"Agatha?"

"Baz's best friend?"

The name finally clicks. "Oh! Right! I'm psyched to meet him."

A line of people trickles around us and I finally signal for us to get a move on. He hikes his backpack higher up his shoulders and pulls his lone rolling suitcase behind him. Looks like he wasn't kidding about the rush.

"Yeah, the twins and Jaya were all, ah. Talking you up to him," I joke.

"Yeah, Pen'd said you took him home. How'd Mitali and Martin like him?"

"There was group hugging, Mic. I'm still not sure."

"Oh, geez," he says with a puffing laugh. "So everyone's hook, line, and sinker over everyone, then."

"Pretty much," I reply, guiding us out the doors.

"So," he trails the word out, giving me an expectant smile. "When do I get to meet him?"

"God, you too?" I ask with a grin. "You just got here!"

"I know! I'm nervous, I'm taking my mind off things," he says.

"Nervous?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm always nervous to see Pen after a while. But not like, scared nervous. It's like there's all kinds of extra energy, and it manifests as nerves. A little giddy, y'know?"

I smile over at him. "Yeah."

"So, when?" he asks.

"I'll figure it out and get back to you, huh? Sounds like we've got time."

He gives a soft chuckle as we find ourselves in front of the bus stop. "Yeah, we've got plenty."

* * *

Penny

Simon's been gone for a bit.

I'm not worried, but it's weird. Him leaving in a hurry and then being gone for this long.

I almost text him to ask if he's all right, but something in my hands doesn't connect the words from my brain to my phone.

It's around dinner time by the time I get actually worried; my stomach growling, and the alarm bells in my mind saying that maybe I should've checked in.

We never really bring it up, but of the two of us, I'm older. It's only a handful of months, so it doesn't quite matter, but it still plays into our dynamic somehow.

He's the fierce kind of younger sibling, loyal and protective with care that bleeds from him. I'm the reserved older sibling, the one that lets the youngers fight their own battles, and only steps in when it's explicitly necessary

And I'm kinda thinking I should step in here.

My phone is to my ear and already ringing when the key jangles in the lock.

I hear that dumb ringtone of his I set forever ago going off, and I fall back into the couch in relief.

"Sorry!" he hollers as I hang up. "But I have a good excuse."

I can hear the shuffle of shopping bags, shoes being discarded, and-

There's too many sets of footsteps.

"Si?" I ask apprehensively. I'm in my PJs and my face hasn't seen water or soap in a few days. It doesn't really matter, but a heads up so I could decide if I wanted to be presentable would've been nice.

"Yeah?"

"Who's with you?"

I wonder if it's Winnie, for a moment, and that'd be a fantastic surprise-

"My excuse?"

"Quit being coy, you little-"

And then from nowhere, a voice I haven't heard so clearly in almost six months. "Aw, c'mon, honey, give him a break this once?"

I stop.

"Mic?"

From around the corner peeks familar black strands swept back into a 'do half like my own and sweet features and it's all I can do not to cry on sight.

"Hey, my love," he says as my hands cover my mouth.

"What're you doing here?" I say from behind my hands. "Are you really here?"

"I'm really here," he assures me. "For, uh, for a while," he adds as he deposits the shopping bags on the floor and steps farther into the living room. "For good, actually."

"Are you fucking with me?"

"No, no I'm not."

And that's enough for me. I leap from the couch and slam into him, my arms wrapping around his neck, and my face burying into his shoulder.

My glasses are drenched from the tears I can't stop shedding, but I don't care, I don't care. His arms wrap around my waist and I never want to move.

"I can't believe you're here," I sob into him, repeating it over and over.

I can feel his tears against my cheek, and it's the best thing in the world, because no dream could ever be this real, could ever get this feeling so exact.

"Hey," he mumbles, and I turn to face him as he plants a soft kiss onto my mouth that I press back into. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I say, pushing my glasses back into my hair so I can dry my face.

"I love you guys, too," Simon says in an exaggerated cry, wiping what are probably real tears from his eyes - the sap - from where he stands behind us.

"I love you, Simon," Micah says happily, but he doesn't let me go.

"Yeah, me too," I laugh. "And I guess I should thank you."

"You absolutely should, he would've been lost without me."

"That is actually true," Micah admits. "And I may have hopped a flight without basic toiletries, so thanks for getting me to the shops, too.".

I've always loved their bond. When I first started dating Mic, he and Simon didn't gel well. Not because there was anything particularly wrong, they were just two awkward shits who didn't know how to communicate.

But as the years passed, they learned to get along. And from there they just kinda fell a little in love with one another.

They tease one another like brothers, and seeing it after so long makes my heart beam.

Instead of dwelling on it any longer, I just tilt my head back a little to look up at Micah.

"You're such a mess," I tell him. "Genuinely."

"Hey, I remembered all my electronic chargers and my favorite clothes."

"Oh my god, Mic."

* * *

~ The Snapchat of Simon Snow ~

[Image description: a background comprised of a warmly-lit restaurant with forest green wallpaper, with waiters and other patrons milling about. In focus, but fuzzy around the edges, are Penny and Micah, pushed together on their side of the red-orange vinyl seat of the booth. Penny is smiling so hard into Micah's shoulder that her glasses are displaced on her face, and Micah looks to be near tears in laughter.]

Sent to: (Baz [devil emoji]) and ([flower emoji] aggie [flower emoji])

Caption: theyre back on their bullshit irl!!!

Responses -

[flower emoji] aggie [flower emoji]:

[Image description: all black photo with "YES BITCH!!!!" written in red ink in barely legible scrawl.]

Baz [devil emoji]:

[Image description: an effortless selfie of Baz, looking fresh from recording for the channel. His blue and white vertical striped shirt has the top two buttons undone, and his make-up is flawless. He's giving the camera an eye-scrunching, toothy grin.]

Caption: [string of all the pink heart emojis]

* * *

And A Few Days After That

It's still weird, waking up with Micah next to me. It's been half a week and seeing him next to me each morning still makes my heart race like it did on our first date.

Surprisingly, he had an apartment lined up through his new job before he leapt haphazardly onto a two digit hour flight.

Unsurprisingly, it was going to be Monday before he could move into it.

He'd offered so many times I couldn't even count how may to get a hotel room, but Simon and I (but mostly Simon, weirdly enough?) had raised enough objections to that. So, for the time being, he and his suitcase stayed in my room.

Not that I was complaining.

"Morning," he mumbles to me through sleepy eyes and sleepy lips.

"Morning," I whisper back.

He grins at the lowness of my voice. "You don't have to whisper. Your Mom and Dad aren't outside the door, and I highly doubt Simon cares."

"You underestimate him."

"Fair enough," he whispers back.

And speak of the devil, the next thing I hear is a banging in my bedroom door, and Simon's tone, "Get up and get decent! We've gotta hit the road soon!"

Micah's face scrunches up. "What day is it?"

"Sa- Sunday," I say, my brain whirring to life. "Shit, fuck, I still have to shower!" I crow, tossing the covers back.

"What?" he asks quizzically.

"Agatha's playing today and Si and I are trying our hardest to get to it. I think it's at one? Shit, what time is it now?"

"Uh," he hums, rolling to grab his phone. "Eleven."

"All right, no shower," I hiss to myself. "Um, okay, do you want to come with? You'll get to meet Agatha and Baz," I try to inject as much cheer as I can into that last sentence, and thankfully, he sits up and turns to look at me with a broad grin.

"I'd love to."

Chapter Text

Agatha

"Jen!" I hollered across the locker room.

"Agatha!" she shouted back in the same tone.

"Have you seen Ronnie's mouthguard?"

There's a reason we call her Mama Jen.

You know how when you go looking for something, and you check everywhere, but it isn't there? And then you ask your mother if she's seen it, and magically it appears, even though you just looked for it there.

Jen has that talent.

Also, she's the only one who remembers to keep bandages in her purse, and we're a rowdy bunch.

She likes it, though. I made sure to ask once I realized it might stick. She'd just smiled her sunshine smile, told me she was more than honored.

"Did she look beside her headgear?"

"I sure did, Jenae!" Ronnie crowed, cheeks flaming red.

Jen sighed loudly at the use of her full name - admittedly, so did I - tying her warm brown hair back as she traipsed across the locker room to us.

"Where'd you have it last?" she asked Ronnie, looking down at her curiously. They were our two extremes - Ronnie barely pushing one and a half metres, whereas Jen stood at nearly two.

"My locker," Ronnie said, shoulders sagging. Her red hair - all-natural, she assured us on more than one account - swung back and forth as her head bobbed, scrubbing against her shoulders. Her cheeks had finally drained back to their regular color, that's to say pale, if not slightly pinked.

"Let me take a look then," Jen said with a small, reassuring smile, which caused Ronnie's shoulders to fall even more. She had that effect on all of us.

She turned her back to us as she rummaged through Ronnie's locker, her jersey - our lemon-drop yellow with a large, white 17 sprawled across the back - pulled as she shuffled through a few items.

"Aha!" she cried, her signature phrase. Turning quickly, she beamed, revealing the gap between her left front tooth and the one beside it. "Here you are, Ronnie, dear."

Ronnie grumbled something under her breath, before finally relenting, and eeking out a, "Thanks, Jen."

"No biggie."

Before I could say another word, I heard a, "Hey, Cap'n!" from across the room, and my mind's already doing damage control on whatever problem was about to be presented to me.

And then I realized it's Hannah.

"What's up, second in command?' I asked airily, my smile soft as I approached her. We're still trying to figure a lot of things out, which mostly boils down to no mushy stuff until after the match on game days, but it doesn't stop us from looking at each other all goofy-eyed.

"You were specially requested, so peak out the door before Coach comes in," she explained, already steering me toward the door.

"A-all right?" I stumbled, my feet finally kicking into gear.

As we finally came into view of the doorway, I first saw Baz, his hair swept back from his face, and arms exposed in a casual tank top. It took a minute for it to register that he's talking to someone - laughing.

Thay can only mean-

"Surprise!" came Hannah's faint voice from behind me, in addition to four - count 'em, four - voices in front of me.

The first person I could get my arms around was Simon - which, not that I was complaining.

"You guys made it!" I crowed excitedly into the crook of his neck, squeezing him hard.

"Me next!" I heard Penny call as I pulled away from Simon. He stepped out of my way, 'accidentally' situating himself beside Baz. Saps.

"Penny," I sighed happily, pulling her in for an even bigger hug. She squeezed right back, hair clouding my face, and dry shampoo clouding my senses.

"I know you have to get back," she explained into my clavicle. "But real quick, someone I want you to meet." She pulled back, and I finally registered the fourth person - the tall, dark, and handsome man in front of me.

"Agatha, this is my boyfriend, Micah. Micah, this is one of my best friends, Agatha."

He had a long, beautiful nose that dominated his face, framing it were smile lines, twinkling, dark eyes, and an inviting smile.

Damn, good for Penny.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," we said at the same time, earning a laugh from our little crowd.

"Penny's told me so much about you," I said, and he replied in kind.

"We gonna hug this out?" I finally asked.

"Naturally."

And we do.

"Oh, shit," I heard behind me. "Aggie, we gots to go," Hannah warned, fingers encircling my wrist half-heartedly. We're really trying to stick to the no mush rule.

"Okay, okay - Simon, Penny, brilliant to see you two, thank you so much for coming; Micah, pleasure to meet you; and Baz, make sure they don't all run off before I can tell them goodbye," I rattled off. "Gotta go before Coach catches us," I explained as I pressed a kiss to Baz's cheek. "Bye!"

* * *

By the way the sun is beating down, I think my arms'll be fried by the time the game's over. Our opposing team, comprised of stark navy jerseys, aren't holding back today, giving us everything they've got.

I risked a look at the score as I downed half the bottle of water Suzie had chucked me, and I find what I'd feared. We're down two.

Next, I spare a glance down the line of girls beside me, and find Hannah at the very end of our sub-area, talking to our new coverpoint about something - probably that check she took.

That's the other thing about the other team, they're aggressive players. They've garnered a high percentage of yellow cards already, and we haven't even begun the latter half of the game. I think they've even got a girl who's already been benched from this game.

I absently rubbed at a sore spot on my arm as I made my way down to them. As I approached them, the other girl hopped up and quickly fled, which was unsurprising. Her last team hadn't taken well to games like these, and I didn't even want to imagine what kind of verbal abuse her last captain had let her have - what she expected to come from me.

"Help me remember to talk to her after the game?" I asked Hannah as I dropped beside her.

Hannah nodded. "Yeah, she needs it. It'll be good for the both of you."

"So, what's going on out there?" I motioned my head toward the pitch.

Hannah slumped, her face crumpling. "I don't know," she forced out, her words tinged with hurt. "They're good, really good."

"We're better," I replied simply.

"Not today we aren't," Hannah said glumly. "I just can't get it together."

"Hey, everybody makes mistakes," I said non-chalantly.

"Agatha," she warned, a smile creeping onto her mouth.

"And everybody has those days," I continued.

"Shut up," she said with a delighted laugh, leaning against me and resting her head on my shoulder.

"I'm serious, Han. I know you're getting all in your head about it, but it's okay. This game is inconsequential, and even if it weren't, it wouldn't matter more than you being okay and having fun."

She huffed out a breath before finally replying, "Thanks, Aggie."

I paused, then, "Is it all right if I kiss the top of your head?"

I could feel her grin in my shoulder as she said, "Absolutely."

So, I did.

And then we were all rushing to get back on the field.

* * *

My muscles were on fire.

I had a knot in my leg that I'd be paying for later, and sweat pasted against every expanse of my skin. I knew my cheeks were rosy and my hair wild, but there was something growing on my chest.

We're tied up, tumbling over into our first overtime period, and what I'm praying was our last - I couldn't handle a golden goal today.

The whistle blew, and my legs were immediately pumping, the aluminum of my crosse's shaft warm in my hands.

There were girls everywhere, bodies so close to mine that all I could see was jersey colors. The ball hit my net, I passed it to another lemon drop yellow clad girl before I nearly upended myself in my haste.

At first, I couldn't tell where it'd gone.

And then, I realized everyone'd stopped moving.

Jaqueline's in front of the opposing team's net. I picked out her hair, black streaked with blues on the underside, easily.

She sidestepped into a fierce hug from our Right Attack Wing - her sister.

The goalie's already pulling her equipment off as she stormed off the field.

We did it.

I couldn't help but burst into a delighted laugh and latch on to whichever of my teammates is closest - Jen, it seemed.

* * *

"Agatha, you were fucking amazing out there," Simon cried as I approached their little group. I hiked my bag - slung over my shoulder - higher up, and just beamed at him.

Hannah was trailing behind me, on the phone with her sister, but when she realized who had called out, she quickly said her goodbyes to Beatrice and hung up.

"And you!" Simon said to Hannah as she surpassed me to get to them before I could. "You were unstoppable!" he told her as he latched her arms around her shoulders and teetered her back and forth in a quick hug.

"Oh, I see how it is," I said with a quick shrug. "How your loyalties change, Simon. Think of the children."

"Oh, god, Chauncey and Pear, whatever will they think when I like Mummy's girlfriend better than Mummy?"

I arched a pale brow at him, my last defense of my perfectly schooled expression, but everything quickly cracked and I was left cackling like a madman.

"We should get shirts," I said. "Matching. 'Proud parent of Chauncey and Pear' emblazoned across the front." I couldn't stop laughing as I gestured from side to side across my chest as to where the yet-to-be-made decal would go.

"Don't tempt me, Darling Dearest," he said, baring a big, bright grin at me. "Our anniversary fast approaches."

What a dramatic. I love him.

"You, me, anniversary live stream, matching t-shirts," I threw out there before laughter encased me again. "If you ever loved me."

"You know I'm there," he said quickly, seemingly tightening his arm where it was slung around Hannah, forearm against her collarbones.

Hannah had her back to Simon, and there was a considerable height difference, so he couldn't see the soft grin she was shooting me that made my stomach flip pleasantly.

"Hey," she called softly, throwing her head to the side.

I flicked my eyes in that direction and found our coverpoint, walking by herself to her car.

Frowning, I turned back to them momentarily. "I'll be back," was all I said before taking off after her.

"Val! Valencia, wait up!" I shouted after her.

* * *

Valencia's head snapped up, cropped black hair swinging by her cheeks.

"Oh, hey, Agatha - look, I'm really sorry about today-"

"Hey, hey, none of that," I said, in what I hoped was a kind, soothing tone. "We won!"

"Well, yeah," she started. "But our- my performance in the first half of the game was abysmal, and I know that, and I promise I'll try so much harder in practice, and next game I'll be back."

"Valencia," I started softly, trying to keep the frown off my lips. "You did amazing today, you kept them from like, two goals."

"I know, but…."

It hung there between us, that but.

"You know I didn't come over here to critique your plays or anything, right?"

Her cheeks heated, but she otherwise said nothing.

"I came over here to congratulate you on your first full game with us," I added. "I wanted to see what you thought of it."

Her head shot up. "What I thought?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, it was, it was really great," then, quieter than the rest, "Thank you for asking."

"You're welcome," I acknowledged, knowing better than to push it any further. "Would you mind if I walked with you to your car?"

Her face sparked, but once she realized I was serious, it lit up completely. "I'd like that a lot."

"And just so you know," I said as we began walking again. "Any of the girls'll walk with you if you ask. Hell, you don't even have to ask, you can just find a group to walk with, they won't mind."

"I don't want to intrude," she started.

"Valencia, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"Are you comfortable, here, with us? I know we're a lot different from your last team, but I want to make sure this is just adjustment, and not some underlying issue."

Her face was stricken. "Agatha, I promise, I love the team-"

"Hey, no, I'm not fishing for like, a reason to kick you off the team or anything. There's no right or wrong answer, I just genuinely want to know, to see if there's anything I can do to help."

"Oh."

My gut churned at the genuine shock on her face. What kind of hell-hole had she been in before here?

"I do, love the team, that is. Genuinely. It's just a really big adjustment, and on top of a new team that's, ah, very different from my last, I'm also doing the new school thing, it's a lot. But I'll be okay, I'm really good at adapting."

I nodded, giving her a small smile. "I know, I can see it on the field. You were really good today, Val."

"Thank you." She finally gave a genuine smile as we rounded a line of vehicles and edged our way toward her familiar car.

"I"m sensing that there's something else," I admitted. "But if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, too."

"Oh, it's, it's really silly."

"Try me."

She sighed. "My mama and papa couldn't make it today. And I know how stupid that sounds, but they've never missed a game, and I really wanted them to see me with the new team and all. They'll be at the next one, but…"

"But this one was really important to you," I hedged as we stopped at the boot of her car.

"Yeah."

"It's not stupid. My parents were the same way, and the first time my mum called to tell me they were going to have to miss a game I cried," I admitted, in no way ashamed. "I understood, and I wasn't mad at them, but it still hurt. Jen ended up realizing everything first, and the team rallied for me.

"And that's what we'll do for you. What we want to do for you. Rally. We're your family on and off that field, Val, if you'll have us."

She looked up at me, her bottom lip trembling. "Thank you so much, Agatha. I-I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"You don't have to," I assured her. "Just let us help you, all right?"

"All right," she agreed, before quickly ducking in for a tight hug.

I wrapped my arms back around her shoulders and squeezed, just so she knew.

"Thank you," she whispered again, before darting off to her car.

"Drive safe!"

* * *

The Phone of Agatha Wellbelove

To: Mummy
From: Me

i love youuuuuuuu

From: Mummy

i love you too my darling girl <3

* * *

Baz

"Where's she off to?" I asked curiously as I approached Simon and Hannah; Penny and Micah were nowhere in sight, but given the 70% chance they were making out at that very moment, I didn't want to know where they were.

"Talk to our new girl, she's not adjusting well," Hannah said, and I just nodded.

"Hey," Simon said, arm around Hannah, free hand clutching his phone. "Did'ja bring a charger?"

"Uhh," I hummed quickly, eyes to the sky. "I think so? I'll check when we load up."

"Thanks. I'm on like, twelve percent, I forgot to charge mine last night," he huffed, stuffing his back into his back pocket.

"How do you manage that so often, the charger's right by your bed," I quipped.

"Okay, well, what's yours at?" he asked, lightness to his teasing tone.

With a smirk I unearthed my mostly-unused-that-day phone from my own back pocket, ready to win. The 74% flashed up at me, and I was poised to answer when my eyes trailed farther down the screen and saw all the missed calls, accompanying voicemails, and maybe-related texts.

"I, uh, I need to see what's happened," I stammered out, pulling a frown from my boyfriend.

"'s everything okay, love?"

"I'll let you know, just- don't leave without me," I said, moving a few feet away from them so I could inspect the situation further.

* * *

The Phone of Basilton Grimm-Pitch

To: Me
From: mordeLOSER

yo

basil

basillllllll

BASILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

god wht even are you doing

OH wait doesnt aggie have a game today

listen im on my lunch break dude

did my mom call you??

she said she was going to but

ugh fine just text me back when you see these or ill call you after my shift

* * *

Call Log

Incoming: Unknown

2:17pm

Incoming: Unknown

2:20pm

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* * *

The Voicemail of Basilton Grimm-Pitch

Hello, Basilton, this is Anaïs. I was calling in the hopes of extending an accepted invitation to your sisters' recital next Friday. They desperately want to have you there. Don't worry, I haven't told them I'd be trying to get in touch, so if you wish not to return this, I'll understand, and it's no harm to them.

I know this must be so out of the blue for you, but it's something I've been wanting to do for some time. I promise this is an olive branch, Basilton. I don't pretend to understand the level of pain you endured here, nor do I wish to erase the hand I had it in from sitting idle for so long.

While I don't understand it, I do wish to mend it. I understand that my past actions, or lack thereof, may be unforgivable, and I respect that. But your sisters were never wise to the happenings, and I hope they don't have to pay for them. My hope, honestly, is that maybe you three will be able to build something again.

Nevermind all of this for now, this is something to be done face to face, I apologize. Let me finish by saying that due to the impending divorce - which I'm not sure if you're aware of or not - Malcolm will not be in attendance; I confess I hope that might sway you.

I apologize that this is at such short notice, but it would be so lovely to see you again, Basilton; and of course, your boyfriend. Mordelia has said so many wonderful things about him, and I admit I've watched some of his videos. There are so many more things I want to say, but I only have so much time. I'm sorry, Baz. Truly, deeply, I'm so sorry."

* * *

"Baz? Baz, are you all right?"

It was Simon's voice, one of his hands on my shoulder, the other on my own hand. All I wanted was to collapse into him.

"Who was it?"

"My step-mother," I managed to get out. "It was my step-mother; Mordelia's mother," my voice broke here, "my baby sisters' mother."

"Oh, love," he murmured, the hand on my shoulder travelling up to hold the side of my face.

"She wants to see me. To see us. She'll let me see my sisters."

His eyebrows shot up his forehead, blue eyes widening. "Us?"

I couldn't help but grin. It wasn't one of pure ecstasy, but instead of relief, of joy. It's been so long since I've seen them, since I've even been in contact with them-

"Us," I confirmed, "Next Friday, they have a recital." Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes as it all started connecting - this was real.

"We'll be there," he said softly, wrapping me up in his arms. I buried my face in his neck, eyes scrunched shut to keep from losing it too much.

"I love you," I heaved into his shoulder.

Simply, he replied, "I love you, too."

We stood like that for a few moments, I wasn't sure how many, until I heard Penny shout, "Hey, we headed to dinner or what?" from somewhere behind me.

"You still wanna go?" Simon asked covertly, pulling back slightly so as to see my face.

"Of course, Micah and I have a lot of bonding left to do."

Chapter Text

Simon

Baz's fingers are twined through my hair, lacquered nails twirling my curls. My nose is pressed against his collarbone, his cold skin stealing the warmth from mine.

"Baz," I murmur finally. We've been like this for an hour, I think, if not more. Legs twisted together, chest to chest, just breathing as the couch cradles us. And it's nice- don't get me wrong, it's so nice, things have been so hectic this week - but I can't help but worry.

He hums his response, fingers steady moving. "Yeah?"

My eyebrows pinch inward as I search for the words. "Are you- do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he replies simply, not maliciously. "I don't think I even know what to say right now."

"That's fine." I hope he knows I mean it.

"Si, it's been so long since I've seen either of them, I don't-" his voice catches in his throat, rocking his Adam's apple. "I'm terrified I won't recognize them. It used to be, when they were babies, that I was the only one who could tell them apart, just by their smiles. What if I don't know them anymore? What if they don't know me?"

His voice is so impossibly small, so heartachingly broken, that I tighten the arm I have around his waist involuntarily. "Love, that's not going to happen."

"What if it does, Simon? How do I live with myself?"

Though I can't see it, I can feel his face pinching up, can feel the emotion swelling in his chest, and all I want to do is make it better, to take the pain away. It's a split decision.

I press a kiss to the free space of skin closest to my lips around the collar of his shirt and ask, "Do you want to know a secret?"

He hums again, and I exhale.

"One time when I was seventeen, or so, I guess? Phee and I went to get lunch, I don't think it was for anything special, just some sibling bonding time- she was such a good kid that when we were all living at home she got put on the backburner a lot so we all tried to give her the attention she'd never ask for, y'know? But anyway, we go to lunch, and she's gonna get us a table while I get our food.

"So I come back from the queue with all our food in hand, and I sit down across from her, and I dig in because I'm starved. I'm doing the usual annoying older brother tactic of like, half-eating, half-talking, not quite fully listening, so I don't realize what's happened. Mind you I am chatting away at her, looking up every few minutes for confirmation that I never get.

"Finally I feel someone tap my shoulder, so I turn to look, and there. Is Phee. And she's trying not to laugh because she's just naturally a good sport, and I turn and look at this poor girl across from me who's fighting back her own laughter, and I'm just so mortified because I'd looked this other girl in the eyes.

"So I start to apologize just all around, but Phee keeps assuring me it's okay. I felt horrible, though, and ended up doing her chores for a week out of like, shame and everything. But I think you get where I'm going with this, yeah?

"That didn't make me any less of a brother, didn't mean that I cared any less about my sister. Mistakes happen, and you live and you learn. You're going to be fine, okay? Everything's gonna work out because you love them, and they love you."

I finally pull back, bracing my elbow so I can push up far enough to see his face. For the first time all week, I see that he's smiling, a genuine thing, and it feels me with so much unchecked joy I can't even begin to explain.

"Simon, you're a mess," he says instead of anything else.

"I have been told that a time or two."

He leans forward to press our lips together, his hand curling into my hair, and I honestly think I could stay like that all day. Or forever. Forever is a concept I've considered a lot since I met Baz, even moreso since we started dating. I don't tell him that yet since it's only been about four months, but I'm not sure how much longer I can hold off, really.

We break apart of our own accord and I find myself thumbing at the line of his jaw. I am so in love with him.

"Thank you," he mumbles, his words more in his chest than my ears, but I understand, and reach up to kiss the skin between his jaw and neck softly.

"We never told Ila, so if you could keep that on the downlow-" I start to explain, but I feel the rumble of a laugh shoot up him.

"Of course."

We settle back in, the quiet warming back over pleasantly. I can tell he's not done speaking, but I know not to push him any further. It's not right to, and he'll just shut down. Still, I wish I could help him find his words.

"I called Fiona," he says finally, maybe ten or so minutes later.

"Oh?"

"I almost hung up on her when she answered, because I realized how stupid it was to burden her with Grimm problems, but I knew she wouldn't let me go that easily. She's been off doing god only knows what, god only knows where, so we haven't talked in a while." He purses his lips slightly. "I tried to get out of the call without telling her what'd happened, but as long as I've been alive I've always been able to trust Fiona to tell it to me like it is, and I guess I needed that."

"What'd she say?"

"I think she did a jig when I told her Anaïs was divorcing my father," he starts with a rasping laugh. "I'm serious! There was this terrible thunking, and when she finally came back to the phone, she was out of breath."

I snort before I think better of it, at least having the capacity to hold my laughter in. I shouldn't laugh, it's not funny, but-

But Baz is laughing breathlessly, laughing so hard he's shaking us a bit. "Go ahead," he instructs. "It was hilarious- go ahead."

So we divert for a moment into mindless laughter, the kind that it feels so good to get out that you almost forget why you're even laughing in the first place.

"Okay," I say shakily, trying to reel us back in. "Okay- what did she say?"

He lets out another laugh that pulls his lips back against his teeth and scrunches his eyes at the corners, but he finally settles. "She was so out of breath I had to talk about us for five minutes until she got herself back in order."

"Oh my god," I mutter, free hand coming up to block my face.

"It got her to breathe, so it worked. The adjectives she used thereafter were both encouraging and, ah, Fiona-like, so win-kinda win?"

"I'll take a half win."

"Three quarters win because she's not going to be in town any time soon." He says it off-handedly, quickly, either he's thought a lot about it or not at all, I'm not quite sure. My face must be doing something because he smooths his thumb down my forehead, ridding me of wrinkles I didn't even know were there. Before I can ask if there's something we need to talk about concerning his aunt and I, he's explaining.

"Fiona's- I'll never tell her this as long as I live, but I adore her, and have looked up to her since I was a kid. That being said, she's a lot, and I think I'd like to have spent more than four months with you before she puts her particular brand of tough love on you."

I tell him I get it, and I hope he knows I'm not saying it as simple placations, I mean it. It's his choice whenever I meet his family, and if he's not ready for that particular overlap, than who am I to ask for it? We've already given one another so much, things I don't regret and I don't think he does either, but there's merit in waiting, too.

I lean against him, into him, and slot myself back into the crook of his neck. My nose is somewhere near his throat, and my lips graze the sensitive skin just below it. "Just so you know," I murmur, closer to mouthing it against his steadily goosebumping skin rather than saying it, "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

He makes a small hmph-ing sound at the back of his mouth - not displeasure, that's for sure - reaching over himself in the process to flick my ear. "That tickles," he informs me, shoulder scrunching up. And though that's what he says, I see the goosebumps on his skin, see the way he leans into the brush of my mouth.

Any other day, any other week, I'd follow that path until we're both cheek-achingly laughing again, mouths over one another, and hands on skin. I'm an avid learner at the school of Baz Grimm-Pitch as it is, I love to know about him what he lets me, especially the trivial. But today is a day for hushed silence and just being there for him, and I know that. So I settle back, hand curved around his side, and we just exist for awhile.

* * *

I wonder if it's weirder to ask your boyfriend what kind of fabric softener he uses or just peep in on his and his roommate's laundry supplies next time you spot them.

To be fair, that thought occurs at 1:38 in the morning, so maybe it'll look a bit better in the light of day. After years of experience I doubt it, but I'm not really in the habit of putting myself down this early in the morning.

I can't sleep, and it's buzzing through me like electricity, or something more than electricity that does a lot of buzzing. I've also hit the time of the night where nothing I think quite makes sense.

I've been trying desperately for sleep since I pulled Baz against my chest somewhere around eleven, but it has yet to come. He'd dozed off fairly quickly, anxious for tomorrow and craving the escape sleep would bring. I can't say I fault him on that.

This isn't the first time we've stayed over with one another, this isn't the first time I've stayed in his bed, but I still can't seem to find a comfortable spot. Everything feels uncharacteristically foreign in a way I can't exactly pinpoint. Still, the rise and fall of Baz's chest, his steady breathing, it's all familiar, and I've been trying my damndest to lean into that familiarity with no luck. I don't even know why I'm so nervous, so stressed.

I think, if I get down to it, it's less about me being stressed for me, and more me being stressed for Baz. We talked for a bit longer earlier, and even now in his sleep I can feel his earlier tension.

Sighing through my nose as quietly as possible, I press a small kiss to the back of his shoulder, just because. Or, I think it's just because, but then my legs are swinging out of bed and I'm navigating his comfortably cluttered room by nothing but moonlight.

I pull my sweatpants from earlier back on, and nab one of Baz's sweatshirts to tug on over my head before I pad through the living room and to the kitchen.

I realize what I'm doing before I even do it and really, I have to laugh. It's not even my house, but my hands are steady and sure as I comb silently through the cupboards, gathering up ingredients for what, I'm not even sure.

I can't find any embarrassment in me, not when I know it's the only thing that'll calm me down enough to get to sleep, but I do kind of find myself hoping that Baz doesn't wake up and find me at 2am baking cookies in his kitchen.

Because that's what I'm making, apparently. I only realize it once the items are in front of me and I'm rooting around hoping they've got a baking sheet.

They do. It's weirdly bent at the corner, and the center's a bit rusty, but it's more than usable, nowhere near the worst I've ever had to use. It makes me smile, just a bit, thinking about what I used to work with at Lucy's discretion.

I set to work as quietly as I possibly can while still adrift in old memories. The cookie recipe is one I know well, and I can follow it by heart while letting my mind wander. Usually, it goes far enough that it untangles all the problems keeping me awake on its own.

It's as I'm stirring the last bit of flour into the wet mixture with a teaspoon that I hear something padding through the living room. At first I think it's Lucy - she'd been seen around a bit, but mostly stayed in Agatha's unoccupied-because-she-was-off-with-Hannah room by herself - but then I recognize Baz's gait. I'd like to say that not making eye contact is a calculated decision, but it's mostly borne from years of "you can't see me if I don't look at you."

"What are you doing, love?"

His voice is somehow softer and more gravelly than normal, and affection lurches in my chest.

"I can't sleep," I admit, though I belatedly realize that's probably more than obvious. "Sorry- did I wake you up?"

"No, I can't sleep all that much either. What're you making?" He slips his arms around my middle and rests his cheek against my back, waiting for my answer, and I find myself muffling another smile.

"Peanut butter cookies- simplest thing I could think of, I guess."

He hums soundly, presses a kiss to one of my vertebrae, and asks, "What can I do to help?"

"You can help roll and hatch them."

"Hatch?"

"You'll see."

I nab the bowl of sugar I'd already set to the side, and put everything in an assembly line. Dough, bowl, tray, fork.

"Here, watch the first one."

"Let me wash my hands first." He comes back a moment later, drying soft hands off on the checkered towel kept for such occassions before throwing it over his shoulder. I almost bite through my tongue.

"Go for it," he instructs, looking over at me with a simple kind of earnestness that makes me want to wrap my arms around him and not let go for a good long while.

I scoop up a bit of the dough and roll it between my hands, holding it out so as to let him inspect the realtive size of it. Dropping it in the sugar bowl, I give it a fine coating before transferring it to the lined pan.

Before I can even pick up the fork he asks, "Can I do that part?"

Grinning, I acquiesce, letting him grab up the fork and press the markings into it.

"I always thought it looked a bit like hatch marks, but I'm not sure if that's what it's actually called," I admit, and he smiles.

"Works for me."

We go through the rest of them silently, making an even dozen from the dough. While they're in the oven, we work together to clean up the few dishes. We finish before the timer, so I lean back against the counter, one hand grabbing at my elbow to hold my arm upright. Sleep is already starting to toy with me now.

Baz leans against my side, resting his head on my shoulder comfortably. "Thank you," he mumbles, but I almost don't hear it.

Curiously, I ask, "For what?"

"Dunno- just, thank you."

I lean over and press a kiss amidst his mussed hair as the timer goes off. We shuffle expertly around one another, him heading for milk, and me for the oven.

We reconvene at the island where I use an old spatula to place cookies on a napkin for each of us. I hover over the second row, and my hesitation must be palpable because he asks, "What is it?"

Pressing my lips together, I debate with myself for just a second before asking, "Would it be all right if we took some to your sisters?"

His responding smile is damn near blinding.

"They'd love that."

So when we lean against the countertop, eating cookies and milk at 2:30am, doing that dumb thing where we smile at one another while the other isn't looking, there's half a dozen set to the side, ready to be boxed up and delivered to the Grimm sisters tomorrow evening.

We crawl back into his bed just before three, and sleep finds the both of us not even twenty minutes later.

* * *

The Instagram of Simon Snow

[Description: Half a dozen tawny-colored cookies, each with precise little hatch marks in them, posed against a crisp, pale countertop. The lighting in bright and obviously that of daylight.]

simonsnoway: it's official, 2am cookies look way better in the daylight. and what do you guys think of these hatchmarks? i think i'm being given a run for my money :p

-

Comments

alexis1999: okay but WHO is he making 2am cookies with

benny_garcia2: is it just me or is tht not the usual countertop??? like it's similar for sure but it looks different

redwingedbaker: @benny_garcia2 okay but LITERALLY that's what i was thinking too, i swear ive seen the countertop somewhere else though??

grimmlovelies: hold up wait a minute [eye emoji x2]

sunnnoon: aw i love this!! whoever did the hatching did such a good job :)!!!

damnetjanet: yeah can i uhhh get someone to bake cookies with me in the dead of the night???

* * *

"They're what, eleven and twelve? They're not going to care if your tie's straight- hell, they're not going to care about your tie at all," I say, smoothing a hand over the shoulder of his suit jacket.

"You've met me, yes?" he asks our reflections, eyebrow half-cocked. "I didn't just get like this on my own. Grimms have the most absurd childhoods known to man, and then we grow up to be half-functioning adults who tie a really good Windsor and need a team of therapists."

"I don't know, Mordelia seems like she's got herself together. Very well-adjusted."

"That's what she wants you to think, but she can do a better Eldredge than I can."

My reflection grins cheekily at him as I smooth his shoulder again, both hands this time for maximum comfort.

He softens a little as he does the final adjustment on his tie - a simple black thing he'd hauled from the very back of his closet. "I hope they never have to learn how to tie a tie."

Sadly, I get what he means.

"Me too."

Shifting gears before he can dwell too terribly much, I pat his shoulders one last time before extracting my phone from my pocket and flipping it around so he can see the time.

Our train - because we get to take the train, not a bus this time - leaves at a quarter after six, and hopefully gets us there by seven. We'll only have half an hour to get ourselves the rest of the way to the school's auditorium, and then find Anaïs who has our tickets, and then get in and seated.

Baz seems to think this is some sort of high value production, and that we need to be five minutes ahead of the game. As someone that has been to his fair share of middle school recitals - Pen, and Jay, and Ila, and Phee's, to be excruciatingly exact - I've been trying to explain that this is the farthest possible thing from that.

I've already pretty much mapped out how the night will go, and hell, I've got a bit of a bet with myself. There'll be shoe scuffing, kids swapping seats when they realize they've sat in the wrong space. Someone is gonna lose their sheet music, and someone is gonna start playing before they're fully ready. One kid is going to be a full-on over achiever, and play louder (though not necessarily better) than the rest. But it's going to be fun because it's a lot of twelve year olds making music - they haven't lost their spirit yet.

Overall, I'm excited enough for the both of us, as Baz is a bit of a wreck.

"We need to leave here in five minutes tops," he says, tapping at the clock on my phone screen for emphasis.

"I know," I reply easily, leaning around to kiss his cheek. "Just take a breath, yeah?"

He at least does stop for a minute to take the breath, dragging it in through his nose, before pushing it past his lips.

"That's the spirit- you ready to go?"

"Simon, you don't have any shoes on."

"Shit."

* * *

I don't know how we manage to make it out of his flat on time, but we do, and we're headed toward whatever prestigious school the two youngest of the Grimm sisters attend in no time.

Still, I don't hold my breath because I remember the shit hand of luck my boyfriend always seems to have when it comes to public transportation. When we arrive at our stop on the dot, I take it for the three miracles it is.

As we walk up the sidewalk - which cuts over half a hill, if we're being honest - he takes my moonlit hand in a firm grip. I smile, but don't say anything, just give his fingers a quick, reassuring squeeze before settling back against the familiar weight of his palm. I'm letting him take the lead on our PDA tonight, given everything, but it makes something in my chest swell, the fact that he takes my hand.

We crest the hill and on the other side we find swaths of parents and younger/older siblings milling about, waiting for the doors to open. I realize with a start I have no idea what Anaïs looks like, so I leave the leading to Baz, who does just that.

He doesn't make any noise of recognition, doesn't give me any sort of warrning, just starts steering us down the path and toward a surprisingly tall woman. (I only say surprisingly because I've met Mordelia in all of her tiny glory.)

I must have said something out loud, because Baz interjects, "Malcolm's a regular Napoleon Bonaparte," between each of my thoughts. The comparison has me hiding a laugh in the pocket of my cheek as we finally approach his (ex-)step mother.

At first, her eyes land on me, and I'm surprised to see a spark of recognition there. Next they go to Baz, and they immediately water.

"Basilton," she greets, her voice strained in an emotional sort of way, rather than that of repressed negativity. "It's so good to see you- you look so handsome, the both of you."

Anaïs Grimm (I assume she's still Grimm, at least,) is even taller than expected. I'd suspect she's Baz's height out of the three inch heel she's got on, so she she effectively towers over the two of us in them. Her smile is achingly honest and kind, marked by red lips and slightly protruding teeth.

Her hair is the color of Mordelia's, swept back in a chignon to expose her dark shoulders under her simple, scoop-necked black dress. Her eyes - a charming hazel - flick between the two of us happily, mascara already threatening to leak, it seems.

"It's good to see you too, Anaïs," Baz says, and I can tell he well and truly means it.

"May I?" she asks, arms doing and odd dance as she near wordlessly asks for a hug. He nods, and soon they're embraced. Her eyes close, eyelashes sweeping her high, round cheeks, and I can tell she's genuine in her emotion just from that, nevermind the way she silently rocks them back and forth with the force of her hug.

It looks like a damn good hug, if I'm being honest.

"And you, Simon, I'm so glad you could make it."

I blink owlishly at her for a second, whiplash setting in from their embrace to her addressing me.

"Oh, it's very nice to meet you Miss…?"

"Anaïs is perfectly fine," she tells me before pulling me in for a hug as well. I was right- it's a damn good hug.

I catch Baz's eye over her shoulder, and can see him fighting the largest smile and the biggest tears as I wrap my arms back around her. I wink at him, and he cracks a little in the lips. I know, just from that, that everything will be okay.

"All right, well," Anaïs begins. "I'd love to talk, but I believe they're about to begin seating. Would you like to see the girls before the program begins?"

"No, no, let them do what they came here to do first," Baz says, as if he's making the sacrifice for them, but I know it's just as much the fact that he'll be a blubbering mess when he sees them that keeps him from bursting through the doors here and now.

"You're probably right," she says with a dainty laugh. "Come on, then."

We follow her closely up the walkway, not wanting to get lost in the fray given that she's got our tickets. It's an easy enough entrance, and as we pad our way through the carpeted, surprisingly ornate entryway, Baz takes up my hand again.

* * *

If I'd put money into my bet, I think I'd've cleaned myself out by now.

That's what I realize as I'm watching some poor kid chase down his sheet music for the second time. It's not even his fault - there's a draft from the side exit that keeps getting opened for god knows what.

For as prestigious an establishment as this place is claiming to be, they're incredibly disorganized. We're situated farther to the back of the rows of uncomfortable chairs, in the first row just after the stocky railing that lines the walkway, so it's easier to see. And hear.

Someone's mother is just behind us, a large video camera set up that she's incessantly cursing at - which would be funny, well no, is actually kind of funny, since she keeps catching herself before she can finish them, and switching the words into whatever she can find at the last minute.

I'd faked a bathroom need once already - before the program had started - to pop in and give her a quick pointer. She'd explained, in quick, hushed breaths, that she wasn't the usual woman who took care of this kind of thing.

After that, the half-cursing is mostly been for Candy - who I can only assume is the woman that usually handles all of it.

But even with that, even with the lighting that randomly brightens or dampens, even with the people in front of us that won't get off their phones, it's kind of magical.

They're playing pieces I don't think I could pronounce the names of, even with the program in front of me. You can tell they're trying so hard, though, from the scrunch of their faces to the determined way they all hold their various instruments, and it's beautiful.

The music rises around us in cascades, sweet and light and childish in a still-believing in everything kind of way. It's impossible not to smile, impossible not to laugh with the child plucking out deep notes from large stringed instrumemt that stands a head taller than her.

It's over all too quickly, but I swear I clap the loudest. I've been to dozens of these things, but they were all admittedly things I was forced to attend by my parents. Choosing to be hear really tints it all differently.

Baz and Anaïs chat quietly while people file out of their seats around us, though he keeps our pinkies linked on the armrest between us, so I can't say I feel all that left out.

The room's nearly empty, just a few people left mingling about, when we finally stand.

"The girls should be out any second," Anaïs tells us, hands linked in front of her. "They usually stay as long as they can - they were so excited to join orchestra, it's all I can do to get them to focus on anything else," she explains with a small laugh. "But I remember that you were like that too. Do you still play, Basil?"

He ducks his head, and I know without even having to look he's blushing. "When I have the time," he admits. "Which isn't all that often anymore between work and the channel, but I manage."

She smiles fondly over at him, and I can almost see the few bright spots of his childhood reflected in her eyes. "Good. I always loved to listen to you play, you took to it so naturally."

He returns her smile in earnest. "Thank you."

"And what about you, Simon- do you play anything?"

All night she's found these spots, the perfect place to slide little get to know yous into the conversation without forcing it. Every time she does, Baz's shoulders do this little scrunching thing, eyebrows following suit, but I can tell he's pleased, so I make sure to oblige her.

"Oh, no, that was always my siblings. I preferred to stay in the kitchen and listen to them practice," I reply, going for that sort of smile I know makes my dimples pop. It's part of my charm, I've been told.

"And you said there's how many- five, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am-" but before I can think of anything to add, there's the thunder of small feet and two voices choking out, "Basil?"

His head snaps in their direction, and before even their mother can greet them, he's down on one knee with one girl in each arm.

Baz didn't have any current pictures to show me, so I'm not sure which one it is that's addressing him next. "What are you doing here?" It comes in between heaving breaths, her face already ruddied to redness, eyes scrunched up as tears wobble down her face.

"I came to see you two play," he starts, not letting them far from his reach. His lips are pressed hard together in between his words, a futile barrier for his tears. "You were both magnificent."

The shorter of the two, I think I saw her in the woodwind section, rubs her palms over her face, matting her thick, baby-doll curls to her tear-stained face, neverminding the small starter frames over her eyes. She can barely even get words out, the poor thing.

"Oh, Emmy," he says with a small, fond laugh that could just as easily be a tearful hiccup as he brushes his thumbs over her face to help clear her tears. She rests her hands over his, the size difference striking, and just holds them there as she cries.

To my right, I hear a small snuffle, and I look over to see Anaïs with brimming tears, her thumb pressed against her lips. Hoping it's not overstepping, I rest my hand against her shoulder, and she gives me a grateful smile.

"Do you have to go, since it's over?" the taller asks, and I connect that she must be Cassandra, if the other is Emilia. She was the girl at the bass - or maybe it was a cello? I never really paid too much attention to the difference - I realize.

"No, we're going to stay for dinner, if that's all right?"

Emilia nods vigorously as she tosses her arms back around his neck, and her sister pats gentle circles on her back. "I really missed you, Basil," she tells him, and I swear I feel my heart shatter.

"I missed you too, the both of you, okay? So much."

Cassandra puts her free arm back around his shoulders and smiles grandly at him. She looks just like her sister, the same brown hair in perfect curls, the same eyes and skin tone as their mother, so alike that I'd think they were twins if I didn't know better. The family resemblance between them and Mordelia is even more striking, though, the perfect mix of Anaïs and their father, I assume from the subtleties in all their features that remind me of Baz.

Anaïs finally swipes her tears away and pipes in, "Okay, girls, let's get cleaned up, and then we'll head to dinner, yeah?"

Cassandra is the first to spot me, which I can only tell because of the little sharp intake of breath she inhales. Her eyebrows scrunch together, and she leans down to ask Baz something while keeping her curious eyes on me.

He laughs at whatever she asks, which seems to startle Emilia enough to get her to look up. Through her great inhales, she sees me too, and it shocks her into silence, it seems.

"Hi," I say, lifting my free hand to wave awkwardly at the tangle of siblings in front of me.

Cassandra furiously hisses something else under her breath, which has Baz turning to throw a beaming grin at me and motion me over with the tilt of his head.

I take quick steps, crouching down to where they're all close to the ground, and wait to be addressed. I'd told Baz he could introduce me however he wanted, that I understood and supported him to do however he seemed fit.

"You okay, Emmy?" he whispers, and she nods, her wide eyes on me.

"All right, then. Emilia, Cassandra, this's-"

"We know who he is," Emilia explains to him in a poor stage whisper.

"He's my boyfriend, Emmy, that's what I was getting to," he explains, a tilt of teasing to his voice.

"Oh," she mumbles, seemingly embarrassed by the fact that she'd interrupted before he could get to that bit. "Good job?"

I can't help but laugh, just a little. "Thanks," I tell her.

"Wait, so how long have you two been dating?" Cassandra asks, and I can practically hear the gears going in her head. I'm reminded, in that moment, that I've been told on multiple occassions that they're fans.

"Well what is it, love, four months?" he asks me, brow quirked, waiting on confirmation.

I make a show of counting it out on my fingers, giving Emilia time to recover if anything, before nodding my agreement. "Yeah, four."

"There you go," Baz says, and it's amazing, really. All these years apart, and they slide back into being siblings just like that, suspicious looks and cheeky quips to boot.

"Huh. Cool." Cassandra turns to her mother. "Can we go to dinner now? I'm starving, Brit knocked my snack over before we went on."

"Walk your sister ahead so she can wash her face and then we'll go."

"C'mon, 'milia," Cassandra instructs, heaving her up from where she's all but fallen into a sitting position on the diamond-patterned carpet below us. "We'll be right back," she adds to no one in particular before they scamper off.

I extend a hand to Baz, helping him back up against the protesting from his joints. He brushes microscopic dust from his pants as he pulls himself together, before giving me one final, quelling smile.

* * *

It's a short walk over to the little hole in the wall diner - not the kind of establishment I was expecting from what Baz's told me of his family, but still welcome - and Baz and the girls make the most of it. I'm mostly left to stand beside Anaïs as the three link hands ahead of us, quizzing one another on the most trivial of things they've all missed the past few years.

While we're waiting to hit the crosswalk - the three of them ahead discussing Lucy, it sounds like - Anaïs looks over to me.

"I'm not sure what he's told you, but you're a very bright man, Simon, so I assume if nothing else you've picked up on a lot of things. And as big as it is for him to be here tonight, it is for you too. I'm glad he's found someone that will follow him, who will stand beside him when he needs it the most, because I'll admit he hasn't always had that. What I'm trying to say is I'm glad he's found you, Simon."

It hits me harder than I'd thought it would. I look over at him, though, see him grinning at Cassandra who already looks like a little sister scorned, and I can't help but smile. I can't help but do anything but smile everytime I see him, it just swells too high in my chest. He goes to brush his hair back from his eyes, catches me looking and gives a wink, and I reply, "I'm glad I get to be here."

* * *

Baz

We stumble through my front door some time far too late. Obviously not late enough because the Chimera rushes up to us - or, more aptly, Simon - with light still in her eyes. I can hear a voice from behind Agatha's door, and Simon and I raise our eyebrows at one another in tandem.

"Aggie?" Simon calls out.

"Beloved?" she returns.

I snort as I toe my shoes off, nudging them against the wall as Simon shrugs out of his jacket. I'm working my way out of my tie when she comes stomping around the corner just like Lucy had, her loose hair swaying around her shoulders.

"How were Em and Cassie?" she asks immediately.

Agatha had always had a place in our home, even at times when it felt like I didn't or couldn't. Though I've always suspected her welcome on my father's part was mostly him hoping we'd end up together. Considering our current relationship statuses, I think it's easy to see why that wouldn't work out. That, and Agatha might as well be my fourth sister.

Still, I'd had her over as much as I could, and she'd loved all my younger sisters as much as I had. When I left home, I'd say my loss of contact with the little ones wrecked her just as bad as it had me. She rejoiced with me when I was able to truly maintain contact with Mordelia, and we'd cried together last week after I'd listened to Anaïs's voicemails.

"They're brilliant, Ags," I say, my fingers fumbling against my tie, unable to undo it from the tremble of excitement in them.

"Here," Simon murmurs, hands over mine in an instant. He deftly undoes the knot as I continue to ramble over his shoulder at Agatha.

"They're so tall, Agatha, Cass's nearly to my shoulder now. And they look so much like Mordelia did at that age, I can't believe it. Emilia's in woodwind- first chair clarinet! Cassandra's still into strings, but she plays the cello. Do you remember when she used to sit at my feet while I practiced my violin? Now she wants to do it professionally, has her sights set on a specific orchestra and everything, but she's only twelve. God, she's twelve now-"

That realization finally takes the wind out of my sails enough for me to coast to a stop. Simon's already slipped the fabric from around my neck and pressed a kiss to my cheek, heading off to wherever it was he was going. I love that he's comfortable here.

Agatha takes the empty space in stride and wraps her arms around my neck. "I'm so happy for you," she says into the crook of my shoulder, and I squeeze her frame in my own arms.

"How was Anaïs?" she adds in a low tone.

"She was great," I reply at the same level. She pulls me back by the shoulders, eyeing me closely.

I've thought about it a lot this week, today, tonight. But seeing Anaïs again, the decision is easy.

While it doesn't excuse what I had to go through at the hands of my father, I can also look back and see now that she was going through it too, just in different ways. She was doing what she had to, same as I was. And she acknowledges now that she didn't do all she could for me, acknowledges that what I went through was hell, and sees what it's done.

I don't have to forgive, and can't see myself ever forgiving, my father. But I don't want to blame Anaïs for what he did to me anymore. She's as much a victim as I am.

"Honest," I tell her. "She's said I can see Emilia and Cassandra whenever I like, that she desperately wants us to speak and be siblings. She's vowed to keep Malcolm away from them as much as she can, and she wants us - she and I - to be able to be friendly, all on my terms. And I believe her, Agatha, I really do. If not for how good she was to me tonight than how she was with Simon."

Agatha nods, her jaw tight, and lips struggling under the weight of her smile. "Good." She nods once, twice before the tears start to roll. "Hell, Baz, this's all I've ever wanted for you. You know I think Malcolm's a bastard, but I've always loved your sisters, and I'm just- I'm just really fucking happy, oh, hell."

She rubs the side of her thumb under her eye. "I told myself I wasn't going to cry," she adds through a shaking laugh.

"They asked all about you, wanted to know how you were, where you were."

She squawks, "Stop!" and brushes harder at her face. "Are you serious? They remember me? They were just babies last time I saw them!"

"They've still got hell of a good memory, and I think they watch the channel when they can. You should've seen them when they saw Simon. They were half starstruck."

"Oh, so they take after you then?" she asks through a laugh.

"Shut up, I'm allowed to be impressed by my boyfriend-"

"I wouldn't call it impressed, so much as enamored," she starts. "But do they know that? I mean, obviously they aren't stupid, but that he's your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, they do."

I can only describe her ensuing look as overtly fond with heavy amounts of pride.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come, but next time?"

"Next time," I agree, impossibly giddy over the thought.

* * *

As rare as it is, Simon's next shift isn't until Sunday, so he's got all of tomorrow free, just about. Which is why he's staying the night, and we'll find something to do together tomorrow.

For now, though, we're each trying to climb into my bed before the chill sets in. We're racing like children, madly tugging back covers and slipping under them, all the while laughing loudly enough I'm waiting for Agatha to shout at us from across the flat.

Laughter residue is still clinging to us as we settle. My foot hits the back of his leg and he jerks, a, "Bloody hell, Baz, your feet are fucking freezing," hissing through his teeth.

I laugh delightedly, slipping an arm around the softness of his middle and pulling him toward me, my icy feet finding home over his calves and shins.

He curses his way around in my grip, until he's rolled and we're face to face.

I can't help but kiss him.

It's his lips first, but from there it changes, remolds as I sweep my lips over his freckled cheeks, the thin skin underneath his dazzling blue eyes, too.

"Thank you for tonight," I mumble against somewhere around his jaw.

"Thank you for letting me be there," he replies. "They're amazing, Baz."

"They love you," I inform him, but I think he already knows that, if I'm being honest. My nose bumps his as I say it.

His nose twitches in the way it does when I know he's looking for just the right words, so I wait him out, knowing they'll come to him in time.

"I'm glad," he starts. "That they get to love me as your boyfriend. You didn't have to introduce me like that, not the first time I met them, but I'm really honored that you did."

I inhale against his skin, letting his words gather comfortably around me.

Simon and I haven't hid our relationship by any means. Our friends and family love to remind us how disgustingly in love we are any chance they get, after all. But in our positions, our careers really, things like this are tricky. We haven't hid our relationship, but the millions of people that have a constant look into our lives and have for years, they don't know yet.

And though that shouldn't matter, for us, who have been as active as we are within our community, it does. Hell, it's what brought us together in the first place, to this relationship I never thought I'd have in a million years. Because before I fell in love with him in person, I fell in love with a boy with golden curls and flour-caked hands, laughing with his siblings in his parent's kitchen so many miles away.

And though we don't shy away from one another in public, we do still have to think about our actions and their ramifications. Every tweet or post or word we say on a livestream. Videos have been edited to remove receiving a text that makes us smile, to cut out the looks if we're in the same room. Not because we're ashamed, though, which is a fact that fills me with love and light everytime I think about it.

But tonight, it was important to me that my family know who he is to me. This magical boy that I've fallen head over heels for. And even though the room was half empty when I said it, any number of people could've seen us at any point in the night. By tomorrow our Twitters could be alight with exposés we never asked for.

But we understood that going in, and decided it was a worthy "risk."

Nothing about Simon Snow feels like a risk to me.

"I didn't have to, but I wanted to. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good."

He breathes steadily for a few moments, and I think he's fallen asleep on me, but his voice vibrates through me a moment later.

"Not right now, but in a month or two, I think- no, I know - I know I want to talk about maybe making a post or video or something. About us. I want to be able to be your boyfriend all the time."

I don't say the first thing that pops into my head. I don't say that I've known I would shout it from the rooftops since day one, that I have never been so sure about one person as I am about him. I don't say that I would send a tweet or make a sappy post on Instagram or do a live Q&A tomorrow if it was what he wanted and was ready for.

I don't say any of that because that's not the conversation we're having, but it rattles around at the back of my mind, a fact that I now know for sure.

Instead, I follow the conversation we are having, and reply, "'m looking forward to it," before pressing a kiss into his curls.