This fic takes place after the end of Carry On. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Carry On or any of its characters. I only own my own ideas.
SIMON
"Are you sure it's ok?" I ask. I'm sitting on Baz's bed, watching him pack. Baz scowls. He's sick of this question.
"For the hundredth time Snow, yes, it's ok. What else are you going to do for Christmas?"
"Go to Penny's." Baz sighs. Loudly.
"Bunce is going to America. Do you really want to spend Christmas alone with the headmaster?"
"No. But at least Penny's family likes me. Your family hates me."
"Wrong," Baz says, adding another shirt to his trunk. "They hated you. They've warmed up to you considerably since you beat the Humdrum." And since I killed the Mage. Mostly since I killed the Mage. But Baz doesn't say it, even though we're both thinking it. He knows it still hurts for me to talk about it.
"But…" I start to protest, but Baz slams his trunk shut before I can finish.
"Look Snow, I want to spend Christmas with you. But it sounds like you don't want to spend it with me." I scowl.
"That's not true and you know it!" It's not. I want to spend Christmas with him. I really do. I don't even mind spending it with his family. I just don't want to be in the way. Baz's parents still don't know that we're dating. I think Baz has tried to tell them, but his dad always stops the conversation before it can get going. He doesn't want to hear it. And, despite what Baz says, they do still hate me. I know they do.
"Then come to Oxford with me," Baz says, coming over to sit next to me. "It'll be ok. I'll make sure it's ok. I'll even cast Be our guest if you want me to."
I can't say no to Baz. I've tried, but it's impossible. Especially when he looks at me like that. I take his hand and give it a squeeze.
"No, you don't have to do that. I'll come." Baz smiles at me and I lean in and kiss him. I just can't resist him. Even if he wants me to spend Christmas with his creepy family.
BAZ
I can't believe I'm bringing Simon home with me for Christmas. I can't believe he's letting me bring him home for Christmas.
Simon has been to the hunting lodge in Oxford before. I brought him with me when I went to visit for a week over the summer. And for my stepmother's birthday. It was a disaster both times. My father doesn't know what to make of him so he alternates between ignoring him entirely and making snide comments to me when Simon isn't looking, and Mordelia keeps pestering him to show her his tail. (She's not supposed to know that he has one. She walked in on us one morning while I was casting invisibility spells. That girl needs to learn to knock.)
But I want Simon to come. I don't want to spend Christmas without him. And my family just has to get used to him. It's not like he's going anywhere. My father will have to own up to the fact that we're dating someday. I haven't told him so outright. I tried, but he just changes the subject every time the topic comes up. He's still in denial that I'm gay at all, and he certainly doesn't want to hear that I'm dating Simon Snow. Not that he has any real reason to hate him anymore, but old habits die hard.
We get into my car (Ferrari, hot rod red, graduation present), and head off. It's a beautiful day, warm for December, and the sky is a perfect crystal blue. Simon rolls down the window, letting his hair blow in the breeze, and we chat about nothing in particular. I love these moments. Simon and me, alone, just enjoying each other's company. There are a dozen spells I could cast to get us to Oxford faster, but I don't. I don't want to. This is the most peace Simon and I will get all Christmas, and I want to savor it.
I pull up to the hunting lodge and I hear Simon take a deep breath. Like he's preparing himself for a fight. I take his hand and give it a squeeze.
"It's going to be alright," I say. Simon smiles at me.
"I know." I want to kiss him, but I don't know who may be watching from the windows, so I refrain. Now it's my turn to prepare for battle.
"Ready?" I ask. He nods.
SIMON
I like the hunting lodge so much more than the gothic mansion in Hampshire. It's still posh and pretentious and surrounded by a thick forest, but it's bright and sunny with lots of windows. The wood is lighter, the carpets are softer, and there are significantly fewer gargoyles.
Baz casts May I take your bags on our luggage to send it up to his room just as his stepmother steps into the foyer to greet us.
"Basil," she says, coming over to us. "Welcome home."
"Hello mother," Baz says, accepting a kiss on the cheek. "I hope you are well."
"Fine, thank you. Hello Mr. Snow." She still won't call me Simon. Neither of Baz's parents will. I think it bothers Baz more than me.
"Hi Mrs. Grimm," I say. "Thank you for having me."
"The pleasure is all mine," she replies, and I can't tell if she's just being polite or if she genuinely means it. Out of all of the members of Baz's family, I like her the most.
"Your father will be home soon Basil," she says to Baz. "Then we'll have lunch. Why don't you two settle in in the meantime?"
"We'll do that. Come on Simon." Even though Baz still calls me Snow most of the time, he always calls me Simon in front of his family. I think it's just a show of solidarity, but I appreciate it all the same.
I follow Baz to his room, then instantly collapse on his bed.
"You can't be that tired already Snow," Baz says, sitting down next to me. "We haven't even seen my father yet."
"Just give me a minute," I say, covering my eyes with my arm. "I'm mentally preparing myself." I can tell Baz is rolling his eyes even though I can't see him.
"Simon," he says, and his voice is gentle. "Thank you. For coming here. It…it really means a lot to me." I uncover my eyes and look at him.
"Of course Baz. I know how much your family means to you." Baz takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I squeeze back.
I look around the room. It's on the top floor because it has fewer windows than the other bedrooms. (Baz doesn't like to admit that sunlight bothers him, but I know it does.) It's smaller than his old room, but it still has a grand, four poster bed with curtains and a stunningly carved antique desk.
"I wish you would get a couch up here." Baz frowns.
"You don't want to share the bed with me? We do it all the time."
"Of course I do. It's just…where do your parents think I sleep?" Baz scowls.
"Let them think what they want. I'm not hiding our relationship from them just because they refuse to acknowledge it." I grin and sit up.
"So you want to let them catch us snogging," I say, trailing my finger suggestively along Baz's collarbone. He shivers.
"No," he says, slipping his arm around my waist. "But it might make things simpler." I lean in and catch his lips in mine. He lets go of my hand to cup my face and I slide my hand into his hair, pulling him closer to me. We're so absorbed in each other that we don't hear the footsteps in the hall until the door flies open.
"Mum says lunch is ready…" Baz and I jump apart, but the damage has been done. Baz's eight year old sister Mordelia is standing in the doorway, open mouthed and gaping.
"KNOCK!" Baz shouts, and I can tell how flustered he is.
"I'm telling mum!" Mordelia yells back, then turns and runs down the hallway before Baz can say another word.
Baz stares at the now empty doorway for a few seconds, stunned speechless.
"Well, you did say it would be simpler this way," I say, hoping to lighten the mood. Baz gives me a death glare. I deserve it.
To be continued...