Author's note: so, this is my first fanfic to be published on the site. A little one shot because I simply adore Simon/Baz. It's inspired by the extract by the same name in Fangirl - the one where Baz spies on Simon and Agatha dancing - and is set a few days after, at the ball they were practicing for. I hope you guys like it!

Why on earth had Baz come to this stupid ball?

He sat by himself, tucked into a shadowy alcove in the corner of the room. There were hundreds of these little corners dotted around the hall, providing a comfortable place to sit and chat with your friends if the dancing got too much. Or an area to curl up with your date, away from the prying eyes of teachers and classmates alike.

Baz was the only one lounging by himself. Hardly a first.

He would have gone back to the room hours ago if the coin hadn't caught his eye. It had glinted in the dim light, and he'd gone to pick it up - after all, at Watford you never knew what might be important. That had been his reasoning, anyway. Unfortunately, it was pretty much much worthless - shiny, but nothing more than a ten pence piece.

He'd crouched down to grab it and was about to continue to the dorm when he realised how secluded this area was. It was the warmer version of the balconies where he had watched Simon and Agatha twirl around the other day. He could watch the dancers without anyone knowing, so nobody would ever know how his silver eyes followed one particular person around the room around the room, etching every step he took into his memory.

It wasn't like he would ever see Simon so dressed up again, he argued. The boy was a slob, draping clothes all over the floor of their room and leaving the bed unmade. Turning up in a suit and tie instead of the scruffy trousers he tried to get away with for class was a novelty, and Baz was determined not the let the opportunity of seeing his roommate with slicked back hair pass by. The constant messiness was Simon's main fault.

Well, that and the fact he was waltzing with Agatha, his bright blue eyes locked on her face.

That should be me. Baz thought to himself. I could be there. If I wasn't so afraid ... If I could actually work up the courage to tell him ...

Tell him what? The harsher side of his mind mocked. The side of his mind that destroyed every fantasy he could have before it could even begin. Tell him that you love him? Don't be ridiculous. He's The Simon Snow. He hates you. This would just make him even more desperate to get away from his freak of a roommate. And then you'd hate yourself even more than you do now, because you'd have finally - finally - driven him off.

A loud shriek echoed out through the room, jerking Baz from the prison of his mind. He snapped upright to see a group of people gathering around Simon and Agatha, worried faces pushing forward. She was yelping and balancing on one leg, holding the other as far from the floor as she could while glaring at Simon, her amber eyes glowing with more anger than Baz thought she contained. A rush of hatred flowed through the dark haired boy as he realised just how red Simon's face was, flushed with embarrassment and self loathing.

Nobody had the right to make him feel like that.

His eyes were wide as he apologised over and over again, voice so loud Baz could hear it from his corner. Apparently Simon had trodden on Agatha's foot. And she told him, using some very choice words, that he was an idiot, her foot was probably broken, and that she hated his guts. Out of character for her, but maybe she'd had an ides of how she wanted the night to turn out that didn't involve the nurse marching her from the room and prescribing crutches for the next week.

Simon stood in the middle of the dance floor until a couple bumped into him and knocked him off balance. A long, dark plait tumbled down the girl's back - Harriet, Agatha's best friend, was undoubtably annoyed at the accident. The lost little lamb face that Simon adapted made Baz cringe. Before he really registered his choice, he stood up and stepped into Simon's line of sight, gesturing for the other boy to come and talk to him.

Within a few seconds Baz was nearly frozen by the brightness of his blue eyes, and he had to stare at the floor to speak. "I left my key in the room. Can I borrow yours?"

"Really?" Simon didn't seem suspicious, but his face creased in confusion. "You've never forgotten your key before."

Baz twisted his hand in his pocket, feeling the cool metal against his palm. Simon was right; he'd never forgotten his key. He'd enchanted it to appear in his jacket when he left the room, but Simon didn't know about that spell - it was a senior one Baz only knew about from eavesdropping on the teachers at lunch. Baz just wanted the heartbroken little puppy face to stop, and if lying to him was the only way he could get rid of it then it had to be done.

"For Crowley's sake, I forgot it today. Can I borrow yours?"

Simon shrugged and he glanced towards the door Agatha had vanished through. "I think I'll go back to the dorms as well. I might go and see Penelope. She's probably bored of sitting in her room by now."

Baz began the long trek to the rooms - why do they feel the need to make us walk all over the grounds to classes? - with Simon trotting after him. "I still can't believe you didn't invite Penelope to this stupid dance." He said, trying to rid the silence that settled between them. Normally silence was golden, ecpecially with their classmates. But Simon's hair was golden enough, and Baz didn't want any quiet to make his roommate hate him more.

"I did invite her." Simon seemed puzzled. Hardly unusual. "But Agatha had already asked me. Penny said it would be wrong to back out."

"Agatha asked you?" Everyone had been saying it was the other way around - after all, few people would have the courage to even talk to the Mages Heir.

"Yeah, a few weeks ago. She said neither of us should have to turn up alone, so we should go as friends." Simon said.

"Friends? I thought you were in love with her or some such nonsense." Baz scoffed, trying not to let his feeling show on his face. Control it, Pitch. Control.

"No. She's nice, but I don't care about her like that." The strangeness of the conversation finally stuck him. "Are you okay? You don't normally talk this much."

"Crowley, Snow, am I not allowed to talk now?" Bugger, he knows something's up.

"No ... I mean yes ... oh, for heavens sake, Baz." Simon sighed and pushed a lock of honey blond hair from his eyes. Baz gulped. "Look, it's just that you've been acting differently lately. Are you okay?"

"Sure." Baz tried to shrug and stalk away but a strong hand on his arm stopped him. "Snow, I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

"No." There was a trance of fear in the bright eyes, but Simon's voice was steady. "We're roommates. We've been bound together. I need to know if you're unhappy."

Baz stared at his feet. At his hands. At the lock of black hair hanging in his eyes. Anywhere but the cornflower blue of Simon's eyes. "No. You don't need to know anything about me."

"I don't need to." Simon sighed, frustrated. "But I want to, Baz. I don't want us to be enemies anymore."

"Bad luck, Snow. We already are." Trust me, I hate that more than you ever will.

"But we don't have to be. Can't you just try not to hate me?"

"No." I never hated you in the first place.

"Please."

"You know that word isn't actually magic, don't you?" Baz's voice faltered as he glanced up at Simon's face and noticed how tight his mouth was. He knew that face - he saw that expression of desperation, of longing, very time he looked in the mirror. For a very different reason.

"Baz. I'm just worried about you. It's not fair that you haven't got anyone to talk to. I just want us to be friends."

"For fuck's sake, Snow, we can't! I can't. It's too bloody hard."

"What?" Simon took a step toward and rested a hand on Baz's shoulder, too caught up in the other boy's words to notice him holding his breath. "Why is it hard?"

Bloody, bloody hell. Baz dug his fingernail into his palm so hard he drew blood. Simon, normally the most unobservant person you could hope to come across, noticed this, and took the hand in both of his.

Baz couldn't breathe. He took a step back, trying to get away, trying to pull free before he lost control and did something he would regret, but the cold wall of the hallway pressed against his back. He was trapped in this conversation. Bugger.

"Baz...?"

"Simon." If Baz knew one thing about his roommate, it was that once he sensed something he wasn't meant to know he wouldn't give up until he had discovered it. This was going to end up being said, and if he didn't say it now there would be some truth serum slipped into the next mint aero bar he ate.

"Fine." He rediscovered how to breathe and gulped air into his lungs with the ferocity of a marathon runner. "Look, don't act like ... well, yourself, but ... I like you."

"Like, as in friends, or ... the other one?" Simon whispered, seeming to consider this far too important for his normal reckless voice. Something he actually understood.

"The other one."

Baz squeezed his eyes shut and leant his head back against the wall. It hit the stone hard. The pain was less more than he deserved.

This was ridiculous. He should have just kept his mouth shut, should have not said anything. He'd been so, so selfish. All that he'd achieved was hurting the one he loved, because now the noble bastard would feel guilty for not caring about him - at least, not in the same way. This was it. He'd already been going straight to hell - where else would a vampire go? - but he'd just secured himself the biggest, deepest pit of lava they could find.

I told you so! His stupid, stupid common sense mocked. It was probably dancing with glee wherever the logical part of the brain lives, spinning around like Simon had at the ball. It had tried to tell him. It had tried to make him see sense-

Baz became conscious of warm breath on his cheek.

"Baz?" He didn't want to open his eyes. If he opened his eyes the dorm room would morph around him, leaving him left with nothing but the fading memory of this dream. He couldn't do that. He couldn't cope with that loss-

"Look at me." Simon demanded quietly, each syllable sending a shiver down the dark haired boy's spine. "Please, Baz, don't hide away."

"I'm always hiding."

"Stop."

"But I have to."

"No. You don't." Simon rested a hand on Baz's arm and his legs nearly gave way. Pathetic. Get over yourself. The voice muttered. Simon spoke over it, almost drowning it out.

"Baz, you don't have to hide from me."

Baz opened his eyes.

Simon was barely inches in front of him, so close he could count the streaks of silver in the sapphire eyes. He couldn't have looked away now, even if he had wanted to.

The words came out in a rush. "You know what I'm like. You know what I am. Every second even near me is putting yourself in danger. I'm not worth it, Simon. Just walk away. Please."

The golden boy stared in silence for a few seconds. He spoke so quietly Baz could barely hear. "Simon. You called me Simon."

And then there were no more words. They both leant forward in the same moment, lips meeting with the gentlest of touches and more meaning behind than could ever be said. Baz couldn't breathe; the emotions cording through him - the desperation, the longing - twisted around his chest, constricting, compressing. He grabbed the rough stone behind him, grabbed onto what he thought was reality. He was gasping, but he couldn't pull away - this was a dream, the perfect dream where Simon's hands were in his hair, fingers tangling in the dark locks. It had to be a dream. If they parted it would end, and he'd be left alone again. I'd rather have a pain in my lungs than my heart.

Finally, after Baz had assumed the fire in his chest would consume his entire body, Simon pulled back. Baz couldn't help himself following for a few inches until he regained control. My entire life is about control. I hate it.

"Baz?" Simon whispered. Baz watched his mouth, watched the lips evolve with every syllable. He was panting to hard to reply, so he mouthed the word.

"Mistake?"

Their noses touched as Simon moved closer again. "No. I was going to say ... that I've wanted to do that for a while. That I would have ... months ago ... but I was terrified."

This bought a smile to Baz's face. "The Mages Heir, afraid of a little kiss? How on earth will you defeat the Ice cream sundae?" He teased, grey eyes bright beneath his ebomy hair.

"He isn't as frightening. And I'll have other people with me then, won't I? I'm no good by myself."

"I'll be with you." Baz leant down to continue the kiss. "Always."