"Snow," Baz's face lit up just a little at the sight of Simon finally stirring beside him. He was lying in bed, on his stomach as usual, and Baz was sitting in a chair next to him. But this time, something was different. He wasn't lying on his stomach because his wings were getting in the way.

In fact, it was kind of the opposite.

Simon opened one eye. "Baz," he said, his voice husky. Limply, he reached out his hand, and Baz took it. "How long was I out?"

"Just a day. Dr. Wellbelove said that might happen."

Simon's forehead came together in a slight frown and he tried to turn his head to take a look at his back, but pain spread over his shoulder blades, meaning he had to put his face back down again.

"My wings," he said to Baz, looking up at him from the sheets. "…Are they…?"

"Yes, Snow," Baz's lips released a tiny smile. "They're gone, Simon. He found a way."

Simon was groggy, but he smiled anyway and closed his eyes. "I didn't think it would work," he admitted. His face was buried in his pillow, only one of his closed eyes showing. Baz was smiling softly at him and tightly holding his hand, as if he never wanted to let it go. (That's how he always held Simon's hand. Like it would kill him if he ever let it go).

"It did," Baz said. "No tail anymore, either. I think I'm going to miss that thing, mind you. No matter how awful it was."

Simon chuckled. It was muffled from the sheets, and Baz could only just see the way his lips were turned up at the sides. "It'll be nice not to need Penny to spell them invisible every morning. Or you, for that matter."

Baz smiled. "Speaking of, I should probably tell her that you're awake."

He started to get up, but Simon held his hand tighter and didn't let him move away.

"What is it, Snow?" Baz asked, frowning a little.

Simon turned his head so that his face was fully on show, and he sleepily opened his eyes. "I missed you," he said, "even though I was unconscious, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Kiss me?" He said it like an unsure question, as if Baz was likely to say no. Psh, Baz thought, like I would ever say no to that.

Smiling, Baz leaned forward and left a small kiss on his lips. When he pulled away, Simon was smiling, his eyes still closed.
And then Baz moved his lips up to Simon's forehead, letting them linger there for a while.

He wanted to stay like this. Bent over the bed, holding Simon's hand, his lips on his forehead, Simon's familiar breath tickling his face.

But he needed to get Penny. She'd asked him to tell her as soon as Simon woke up, so she could both see him and check over his wounds from the operation. (The second thing was what Agatha's dad had told her to do. Baz was sure it was because he didn't particularly trust him to do it, but Penelope wouldn't admit that).

"I'll go get Bunce," he whispered, leaving one last kiss on his forehead before letting go of his hand and walking in to the living room.

"Bunce?" he called.

"In my room!" he heard her reply.

"He's awake," Baz stuck his head around her bedroom door. She was sitting at her desk with her laptop, and usually when Baz went to say something to her, she wouldn't even look up at him when she replied; but this time, her head snapped up to him, and she smiled.

And then they both went back in to Simon's room, and Penny got way too excited upon seeing him conscious.

"Simon!" She said happily, running over to the side of the bed that his head was facing.

"Why are you so giddy about seeing me?" he asked, "I had an operation; I didn't die."

"Shut up," Penny smacked him playfully—and gently—on the arm. "How are you feeling?"

"Groggy. Ironically, I feel like I haven't slept in days."

"That's just the anaesthetic wearing off," she waved a dismissive hand and sat down on the chair by his bed. Baz was walking around now so he could see Simon again, and then he sat on the bed, tentatively putting a hand on the back of Simon's leg.

"Dr. Wellbelove told me I need to check your wounds every day," Penny said. "Just to make sure everything's okay."

Simon nodded. "It hurts. I hurt."

Baz squeezed his leg gently. Simon smiled sadly in his direction.

"It'll wear off," Penny assured, taking his hand in hers. "And he said you can have painkillers. Also, we can use magic on you to try and help it heal a little."

He nodded again, and closed his eyes.

"How does it feel?" She asked. "Having no wings anymore?"

"It feels like they're still there. But…different; like they're causing me pain now."

"Well, soon you'll be able to lie on your back without anything in the way. Think of that. That's a bonus."

Simon smiled again, but it was weak, and he looked exhausted. There were dark purple circles under his eyes, and his skin was ridiculously pale.

"You should sleep," Penny said.

"I've been sleeping for twenty-four hours."

"No," she insisted, "you've been unconscious for twenty-four hours. There's a difference."

"She's right," Baz said, and he hadn't spoken in so long that it made Simon open his eyes to look at him. "You should sleep. You look knackered, Snow."

He closed his eyes again. "Fine. I'll sleep." He already looked asleep.

Penny smiled and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "See you in a few hours, love." She said, and Simon smiled at her. He squeezed her hand and she turned to walk away, squeezing Baz's shoulder on the way.

When Simon's bedroom door was shut, Baz moved so he was sitting on the chair again and took his hand once more.

Simon frowned and opened one eye. "I liked it where you were."

"It was an awkward position."

"Sleep with me."

"Whoa, Snow, you've only just woken up from an anaesthetic. Let's not be too hasty. Don't you just want to talk?" He was smirking.

"No, I…you know what I meant."

Baz chuckled. He squeezed his hand. Simon smiled.

His eyes were still closed, but he pulled on Baz's hand anyway. "I'm serious," he said. "Sleep with me."

Baz bit his lip. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Simon frowned and opened both eyes this time. (Well, sort of opened. They were more like very thin slits on his face). "Why not?"

Baz looked hesitant. "I don't want to hurt you."

Simon visibly rolled his eyes, "you won't. Just don't spoon me just yet.… That will hurt."

Smirking slightly, Baz stood up and started to climb on to the mattress next to him.

"I haven't been able to spoon you since those bloody wings sprouted in the first place, Snow. I think I'll manage."

"Help me turn on to my side, Baz," Simon said, trying to push himself up.

"You're fine where you are." Baz put his hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"No," he insisted, "I want to face you. I don't like lying on my stomach; it makes my neck cramp."

Frowning, Baz knelt on the mattress and put his arms around Simon, lifting him up and turning him over so that he was lying on his side. A few groans and noises of pain later, he was finally settled, his head on the pillow and eyes still closed.

"Okay?" Baz asked gently.

Simon nodded. "Yeah." He was whispering.

Carefully—very carefully—Baz settled down beside Simon on his side, and he took his hand again. It seemed like the safest way to touch him without causing any pain.

Simon let his head fall forward and sit in the hollow where Baz's neck met his chest. Baz rested his head on top of those familiar curls and closed his eyes, smiling a little as Simon wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," Baz said. "Sort of okay, at least. How do you feel?"

"Okay.… Different," Simon admitted. Baz could feel his voice against his skin.

"How?"

"I don't know," he almost whispered, "I feel like…my wings were the last part of my magic that was left. And now that they're gone, I…I don't know if I really feel like me anymore."

There was a pause. Baz kissed the top of Simon's head.

"You are magic," Baz whispered, holding his hand tighter. "That's just who you are. Just because it's not something you can use anymore…," he didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he just kissed his head again and said, ever so quietly, "you are magic, Snow."

Simon held him tighter.

"I think we made a mistake," Simon came back in to his room from his en-suite bathroom, still walking carefully and slowly.

Baz was sitting on one side of his bed. "With what?"

"Getting rid of my wings." Simon settled next to him, lying on his side.

"What? Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't feel the same anymore."

Baz sighed, a little exasperated, and turned his head to face Simon.

"Don't give me that look," Simon said, "I'm suffering. You're supposed to be sympathetic."

"I am being sympathetic, Simon," Baz said softly, and he reached out to brush some stray pieces of hair off his face. "I just don't understand what you're on about, and why you keep going on about it. You're the same person."

"I know. I know I am. But I feel different."

"How can you feel different, just because of some wings and a ridiculously cartoon tail?"

"I told you why!" Simon raised his voice. It took Baz by surprise. "Because it's the last of my magic. It's all that's left from those days."

"And I told you that magic never defined you."

"But it did. For me. It always did. Until I knew I had magic, I thought I was worthless. Magic, it…it gave me a purpose. Without it.…"

Baz's forehead immediately fell in to a deep frown and, as if it were instinct, he reached out and took his hand. "Never think that."

"…You sound like me now." Simon wasn't looking at him.

"You're not worthless, Simon. You never were. And you never will be."

"I just…I think it'll take some getting used to. I just wish I'd never done it."

"Done what?"

"Had them taken off."

"Life will be easier without a pair of wings and a tail, Snow."

Simon sighed so deep, it made the mattress move. Baz shuffled down so he was lying beside Simon and facing him, their hands still joined.

"It was the right thing to do."

"Maybe."

"Definitely." Baz squeezed Simon's hand, and then he moved forward to put his lips on his forehead.

"Baz," Simon's voice came up after a few minutes of silence.

"Mm?" Baz mumbled in response.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For letting me talk this through."

Baz's lips spread in to the tiniest smile. His eyes were closed, and he brought his hand up to run it through Simon's hair. "Of course, Snow. I wouldn't stop you from doing that."

Simon's arm came around Baz's waist, and he buried his face in to his chest, as usual.

It was a comfort thing that Simon had developed; to put his face in that place, right where Baz's neck met his chest. It was warm there and comfortable and familiar, and whenever he did it, he felt at home for a while. Safe. Whole. Where he belonged.

Baz would always smile and kiss his forehead.

"Go to sleep," Baz said after a while. The room was pretty dark now. His voice was hushed. "It's getting late."

He felt Simon shake his head. "I'm fine."

"Well, I'm thirsty, and if you keep your head there instead of sleeping and letting me hunt, then it probably isn't going to end prettily."

Simon looked up at Baz. When he saw that he was smirking, Simon smiled too, and he craned his neck so that he could kiss Baz properly on the lips.

"Did you not hear what I just said, Snow?" Baz questioned, pulling away. (He was still smirking).

"Yep. Loud and clear. You're thirsty." He kissed him again.

Baz pulled away. (Reluctantly, though. Pulling away from Simon was something he only did when he absolutely had to.) "Simon, I'm serious."

"Fine," Simon sighed dramatically, taking his arm off of Baz's waist. "Go. Hunt. I'll be fine by myself."

"You will. I won't be long. Don't be such a drama queen." Baz kissed his cheek, and then his forehead, and reluctantly climbed off the bed.

"Later, alligator." Simon called after him as he walked around to the door.

"Don't say that," Baz put his scarf around his neck. He wasn't facing Simon. "It's weird."

"It's endearing."

"No," he said, turning around to flash Simon a grin, "it's not. I'll be back soon."

"You were supposed to say 'in a while, crocodile!'"

When Baz returned, Simon was in bed wearing his pyjamas. For a moment Baz thought he was asleep, but the bedside light was still on, and one of his eyes opened as Baz closed the door quietly.

"You're awake," Baz whispered.

"Yeah. Are you staying tonight?"

He nodded, taking off his scarf and hanging it on the hook by Simon's door. "Is that okay?"

Simon nodded. He brought his hand out from under the duvet and ran it through his curls.

"Do you have pyjamas?"

"No. But it's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Baz took off his shoes, and then his shirt, discarding it somewhere in the room, and climbed in to bed in front of Simon. He shuffled close and rested his forehead against Simon's, closing his eyes.

Simon brought his hand up to touch Baz's cheek, smiling when he felt how warm it was. "Night, Baz."

Baz put his hand over Simon's and laced their fingers together. "Goodnight, Snow."

"Call me Simon."

He rolled his eyes. And then he kissed his nose. "Goodnight, Simon."

A/N: and so, the Snowbaz fics begin. I am trash. This book ruined my life and made it 100x better at the same time. I'm in love with these characters and this relationship and the whole fandom is just wonderful also. I can't wait to see us grow even more!

So, I hope you enjoyed this fic, do let me know what you think! I'm not really sure if Simon would get his wings removed, let alone if he could, but I just wanted to explore the idea of what he would have felt if he did decide to do so. :)

Isn't Baz the biggest cinnamon roll you have ever had the pleasure of getting to know.

Thanks for reading!

Love :* xxx