This is fluff. Expect nothing else. Holidays call for mindless happy. Also, I know that in Carry On we learn that Simon changes orphanages a lot, but I decided to omit that detail. And their personalities are their less deep, pre-Carry On ones I use for fluff.

"Baz! Baz! It's Christmas! It's Christmas, Baz!"

Baz groaned from under his bundle of blankets.

Simon hopped out of bed and went to pull back the heavy curtains. Grey light cut into the room. "It's snowing!" he cried. Baz muttered something, but his voice was muffled.

"What?"

Baz burrowed a hand through his covers to the open air, creating a space for his voice to pass. "I said, isn't that wonderful, Snow."

Simon giggled. He remembered a time when Baz would have found something with more edge to spit at him. Putting those days behind them had lifted a burden from Simon's shoulders. One arch-nemesis is enough for any teenager without having to have another sleeping in his room, thank you very much. But Simon didn't want to think of his other enemy during Christmas, so he focused on another thought: getting Baz out of bed.

"Baz! They'll have cinnamon buns downstairs!"

"You know I don't like eating breakfast." Baz sounded far off under his blankets.

"But it's Christmas," Simon whined. He skipped across the room to Baz' bed and poked the quilted mountain.

Baz growled. "You mentioned that."

Simon was smiling. The way he saw it, this was progress. He had Baz talking. And growling. Next would be moving, he was sure. The trick was to annoy Baz so much that he either decided it wasn't worth it to stay in bed or tried to hit Simon before he remembered the Roommate's Anathema.

Simon sat on the edge of Baz' bed and started bouncing up and down. "In the orphanage it was always the kids from about five to eight years old who woke up first. We got presents from charities and they would all be handed out beside this little plastic tree covered in lights. The younger one always got very excited and would wake us all up to go get our presents.

"You obviously never stopped being eight."

Simon giggled again. All his laughter seemed to be bubbling out of him. He loved the feeling.

"Aleister Crowley! Will you stop fucking bouncing!" What must have been Baz' knee hit Simon. It failed to hurt him through all the covers, but he still cried "Anathema" out of habit. Baz grunted.

"Then we'd have breakfast late!" Simon continued his recounting of orphanage years, spurred by Baz' annoyance. He didn't have to go very far to get another rise out of his roommate.

"Remind me why you aren't going back there for Christmas? Or at Penelope's or your girlfriend's? Anywhere other than here, where you can wake me up?"

Simon stopped bouncing. He was getting breathless. Instead, he swung his legs out and let them fall back onto the bed frame repeatedly. "Why aren't you going home?"

"That," Baz said, "is absolutely none of your business." He had an edge of finality that convinced Simon to move on.

"I never go to the orphanage for Christmas. It's easier for everybody if I just stay here. Penelope's mom doesn't trust me. Especially around turkey carving knives. Anyways, we're both staying here because of the Humdrum and the Mage and everything that's happening. I think Penelope's mum is going to kill the Insidious Humdrum just so she can keep her kids safe. She can be scary.

"And Agatha is not my girlfriend. I think she wants to be, but..." Simon let his voice trail off. He wasn't exactly going to say he had his heart set on someone else. However when he realized that Baz was in danger of falling back asleep, he decided it might get him interested. "But I kind of like someone else."

"Do you, now?" Baz said.

Simon grinned through his apprehension. "Yes, I do," he said.

"Who is it?" Baz asked.

Simon jumped off the bed. He knew he was winning, although it had come at quite a noteworthy price. "I'll only tell you when you go down to breakfast."

At first, Baz didn't move. Simon was scared for a moment that he had failed, that his confession had been for nothing. There was no point if Baz got up in an hour. He would have done that without coaxing anyways. Simon would be stuck with that piece of information hanging around as bait until Baz found a way to wheedle the rest out of Simon. What would happen next, Simon didn't even want to imagine. Then, slowly, the blankets on top of Baz rose and fell as Baz sighed. Baz started to move very slowly. First a foot, the second one next. His head appeared on the other side. He lifted the covers off and pushed himself into a sitting position.

He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, then looked up and glared at Simon. Simon smirked at him, grabbed his uniform from the top drawer of their chest and disappeared into the bathroom. He came out showered and dressed, a gloating look on his face. Usually Baz got to the bathroom first and spent an eternity polishing his nails or whatever the Pitch's do to stay generally higher than the rest of society.

Baz grabbed clothes from his various drawers. Unlike Simon who had one drawer full of uniform sets and one set of clothes he wore on the train, Baz actually brought things from home. He used the other five drawers and kept them well organized. Simon sometimes thought it was a bit of an obsession. Who classifies socks?

Simon watched Baz strut into the bathroom with his nose in the air. It would have looked ridiculous if Simon had done it, but Baz pulled it off as regal. Simon shook his head. He didn't know if he wanted Baz to stop being so good at everything. It would make him less jealous, but possibly more bored. If he couldn't watch Baz sweep out of their room every morning, he wouldn't be the same for the rest of the day.

While Baz was in the bathroom, Simon remembered the present. He never got presents for Baz and Baz never did for him. However that year their interactions had been different. For some reason or another, Baz had started helping Simon with his quests instead of hindering him. They had stopped fighting as much-although they still teased each other a great deal- and had actually talked to each other. When they had fought side by side a month before, Simon had realized how much he wanted Baz to live.

So he had gotten Baz a Christmas present. It was nothing big, just a bag of mint Aero Bubbles. Still, he was nervous about what Baz' reaction might be. It was definitely going to be awkward. But first, he had to wrap it, something he hadn't done yet. He fished out old newspapers and a ribbon and tried to make it look pretty.

Kneeling on the ground, he tackled the paper, folding it and crumpling it around the bag. Taking the ribbon in one hand while holding down his creation with his other, he proceeded to wind it around the newspaper above where the bag was nestled in. Nestled was probably too gentle a word to describe the gift's situation.
He managed a maneuver that ended up with him holding both ends of the ribbon, keeping it wrapped around the paper. Biting his lip and frowning, he tied it without distancing his fingers from the bundle in order to keep everything together. He tied a couple more knots to be sure and then finished it off with a bow. He pulled back and examined his work. It wasn't what you'd call pretty, but there wasn't much to be done about that. He figured he could tuck in the loose ends at least.

He was doing just that when the bathroom door opened. Simon whipped around, leaving one hand on the gift behind him. Baz was standing in the doorway, his hair still wet and ruffled. He was wearing a dark blue button up and black jeans. They didn't have to wear their uniforms during Christmas holidays, yet Simon couldn't bring himself to stop. Seeing Baz that morning, he was happy Baz didn't have the same love for his uniform.

"Snow," Baz drawled. His eyebrows were raised and he was looking down his endless nose at Simon, who blushed. He felt silly sitting on the floor, looking up at Baz in all his glory with a bundle of newspaper behind his back. "What are you doing?" Baz asked.

"Right," Simon said. "Right. Well, er..." He figured this had to be the time to give Baz his gift. Anxiety made his insides turn to mist and his brain buzz. He struggled to form words. Baz wasn't helping him, staring at him with his lazy eyes and his sharp cheekbones, his rounded lips pursed. "I have a present for you," Simon said in one breath. His heartbeat resonated through his limbs.

Baz' eyes blinked and widened. He took a step back into the bathroom. Within seconds, his shoulders relaxed and his features were back to their bored look. Nevertheless, it was too late. Simon had seen the shock. The small victory, making Baz show emotion, managed to whittle its way through Simon's fear.

Simon brought his hand forward, gripping said present by the tuft at the top. He thrust it toward Baz. Baz stared at it for a long time. He kept his face straight, or almost. Simon could see the faintest sign of some unidentifiable emotion. He figured Agatha would have known which one, or given him a list of what recipe of feelings mixed together to make that expression.

Baz took one hesitating step. He moved only his foot at first, carefully placing it on the ground before the rest of his body followed. Gradually, he shuffled forward. He was halfway across the room when Simon realized that he could have stood up and brought the package to Baz. That was the polite thing to do, something a Pitch would do.

He remained on the floor regardless, figuring he wasn't a Pitch and therefore had no obligation to act like one. In truth, he didn't trust himself on his feet, however he didn't want to admit that, even to himself. His position meant that Baz had to stoop to get his present. He and Simon had avoided looking each other in the eyes until then, they always did, but it was difficult to lean forward and accept the present without looking into Simon's upturned face. Simon broke the eye contact almost as soon as it started, unable to stand it.

Baz grabbed the gift under where Simon's hand was holding it. He tugged on it when Simon didn't let go and his fingers unclasped. "Nice wrapping job," Baz said, his lips lifting at the corners in a tiny smirk. He took a few steps back before he undid the ribbon. The newspaper sprang open when it was finally freed.

Baz laughed. He shook his head at the bag of Aero Bubbles. Simon let himself breathe a bit. So far, so good. He waited for Baz to say something before he let himself jump to any conclusions. Baz laughed again. He looked like he was searching for words.

"My favourite," said Baz.

"I know," Simon replied. He couldn't help smiling.

Baz laughed a third time. He opened the bag in one smooth movement that Simon could never hope to replicate. He took out one perfect brown bubble and popped it in his mouth, letting it melt. Speaking around it, he said "Do you want one?"

"That's okay," Simon said, but one more look at the bag made him say, "Yes!"

Baz tossed one over. It slipped past Simon's fingers and rolled. Simon pounced on it and ate it in one bite.

"Very smooth," Baz teased.

Simon glared at him. Baz chuckled, turning away to place the bag on his bedside table. Glancing at Simon, he seemed to think better of it and put it in his suitcase under the bed where he could protect it more easily. He sat on his bed afterward and contemplated Simon who was still sitting beside the dresser.

"Why on Earth did you get me a Christmas present?" Baz asked.

"I don't know," Simon said, mostly to buy himself time to think of an answer. "You haven't been a git this year." He said it in a questioning tone, asking Baz if the answer was satisfying. Baz raised an eyebrow. Evidently it wasn't. "I like getting Christmas presents." The eyebrow didn't move. "I guess I..." Simon swallowed. "You kind of... Count as my friend?"

The first eyebrow was joined by the second. Simon couldn't get enough of watching Baz' eyebrows. He had such control over them and so many of his thoughts were reflected by their movement. Baz mouthed the word friend. They were both silent, neither of them looking at each other. Simon had switched his gaze to the floorboards and Baz had turned toward to window.

"Well now I almost feel bad for not having anything for you," Baz said, breaking the silence. Simon looked up and found him still looking out the window. "Is there something you want?"

"No," Simon lied, his voice going up. He wasn't going to tell the truth, he couldn't.

"You're lying."

"No I'm not!" Simon pretested.

Baz turned back toward the room and Simon. "Simon Snow, do you honestly think that after eight years of sharing a bathroom and falling asleep to your mindless chatter, I wouldn't be able to tell when you're lying? I know all there is to know about you. I think I know the names of every damn kid in that orphanage of yours and their hair colour, along with your favourite animal and the order in which you put your socks on."

"Really?" Simon said. "My favourite animal? And my socks?"

"Yes." Baz said with a dry tone. "Right and then left. And you loved rabbits or 'bunnies' until the year before last-"

"Well if you had had to go tracking down all the hares in this school you'd be fed up with them too!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure I would," Baz said, suppressing a smile. "But you're distracting me from my point. I know that you're lying right now."

"No, I'm sitting," Simon said in one last feeble attempt to save himself. Baz was unimpressed.

"Now, you have pointed out over the years that I am not an ethical person." Simon had a sinking feeling. "I feel that I have not deserved such harsh judgement. On this Christmas morning, I have decided that it is time I helped you out before it's too late and we leave this place without you ever having found concrete proof that I am evil." Simon's fears were confirmed when Baz picked up his wand from his bedside table. "Be careful what you wish for," Baz said. "Now tell me, what do you want for Christmas?"

Simon wished there was a reverse spell he knew of and could perform without doing something like sowing everyone's mouths shut. He could feel the spell's pull on the words. He didn't have control of his tongue anymore. Baz looked down from his perch, gloating. "A kiss. You. And a Tom Baker scarf."

Baz looked quite torn between going into shock and bursting into laughter. As usual, he went with his life motto: when in doubt, pick on Simon Snow. "Those have the same importance to you?" He said, forcing a smirk onto his face.

Simon didn't know what to say. He was tempted to run away. He flicked his eyes from Baz to the door and back again. The words 'fight or flight' passed through his mind. Anxiety, fear, he couldn't tell the difference. Did everyone feel frozen, he wondered, or was this different for each person, just like magic.

"A scarf and a..." Baz also seemed to lose his words. To Simon's dismay, he blushed. A corner of Simon's consciousness, the only free part, pondered the idea of a vampire blushing. Was that somebody else's, or a rat's blood filling his cheeks? Did it run through his veins? Did he digest it like food? He almost asked Baz just to change the subject, however too much of his thoughts were consumed with worry.

Baz was moving. He was getting up and walking. His steps were tentative, as they had been previously. He still hadn't managed to find a perfectly calm expression. He looked as though his breathing was uneven. Simon didn't let his brain process anything. He simply watched Baz who was sitting down beside him. Baz looked at the ground, then at Simon. His face mirrored Simon's nervousness.

"Am I that person you like?" he asked, the words strung together into one.

"Yeah," Simon said, meeting his eyes.

"Happy Christmas," Baz said, not much louder than a whisper.

He leaned over, one hand supporting him, the other holding Simon's face. Simon couldn't help it. He met him half way. Baz tasted like mint Aero. His hair wasn't quite as soft as it looked, but it was fluffier. He smelled like his shampoo, cedar and bergamot according to Penelope. Simon would have to take her word for it.

Baz pulled away. 'I just kissed Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch,' Simon told himself, his heart skipping a beat. He was looking at Baz' nose, that infinite nose that started higher than the moon and ended in a staggering cliff.

Apparently he had said that out loud, because Baz whispered, "Yes, you did. And I kissed the Chosen One. My mother must be turning in her grave. Again."

Simon narrowed his eyes, but he smiled a moment later, ruining his glare. It hadn't been much to begin with. "We can go convince her that this is good for the family honour," Simon said. "If you kiss me again," he added. Most of the tension had dissipated. He couldn't tell if the rest was stress or some aftermath of being kissed.

"Two kisses! I didn't see two bags of Aero Bubbles," Baz said, raising an eyebrow. It was like he knew how much Simon loved them.

"But you want to, don't you?" Simon asked. He had meant to tease Baz, but ended up sounding scared.

"Yes, I do," Baz said and kissed Simon.

Merry Christmas! Even if it isn't Christmas when you read this...