Summary: Simon and Baz and the four seasons. – SnowBaz. Post-canon.
A/N: I've always wanted to write about something to do with the four seasons, but I never know what, exactly, until I finished reading Carry On and this idea hit me. (There are about 90 stories in the archives of this fandom on this site and I've gone through all of them. Help.)
And of course I'm writing this right before exams. Of course.
Disclaimer: I do not own Carry On.
And Repeat
i. winter: frigid fingers and personal heaters
Simon has noticed that Baz is always cold.
Baz isn't bothered by it, though—at least, he acts like he isn't bothered. It must come in a package with the I'm-always-better-and-nothing-ever-concerns-me attitude that he puts on. Or maybe it's just a side effect of being a vampire. (But Simon notices the slight twitch in Baz's fingers every night, despite being covered in thick layers of blankets, and how he would stuff his hands in his pockets when they go outside in the cold weather for long periods of time.)
Simon's last name may be Snow, but Baz is the one who is actually affected by the cold.
On a walk one day, Simon can't help but glance at Baz's ears, where the tips are starting to turn red from the chilly breeze blowing by. A couple of snowflakes float down and melt at the contact with Baz's skin and he's practically shivering on the spot. Simon wonders how he never noticed it before, but dear Merlin, his boyfriend is freezing.
It's not long before Baz halts and turns toward Simon with a frown on his lips. They've stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, beside a bare oak tree that seems to be weighed down by the snow on its branches. "Is something wrong? Why the constant staring?"
Simon inhales and releases a cloud of air. "Baz…," he begins slowly, unsure of how to ask this, "Um, do you want to hold hands?"
This seems to take the dark-haired boy by surprise. He regains his posture quickly enough (because he's Baz and he hates any moment of vulnerability—even if it's just a second) and raises an eyebrow. "Why? Do you?"
Simon only smiles and reaches out into the other boy's jacket pocket, settling his own fingers inside to wrap around Baz's. There are people walking by who give them weird looks, but they are promptly ignored. "I do."
And his roommate shrugs, seemingly indifferent, but Simon can feel Baz's hand warming up underneath his own already.
They start walking again and he grins. "You know, if you were cold, you could've just said something."
"If I ever need a personal heater in the future, Snow, I'll make sure to let you know."
.
ii. spring: (a lack of) shirts
When the seasons change and the weather gets warmer, Simon has a habit of walking around the house without a shirt.
It really tests Baz's self-control. The flesh and muscles that are usually hidden underneath lays of polymer and cotton are fully exposed and it's so hard for Baz not to stare. He can't help it, really; his eyes involuntarily travel toward Simon's body and before he knows it, he's taking in every detail of skin on Simon's chest and stomach and back—and Crowley, he just wants to kiss all of it.
"Snow," Baz growls when he doesn't think he can take it anymore, "do you have something against getting dressed in the mornings, or something? Put on a shirt, for Merlin's sake."
And Simon will look surprised, as if he never even realized that he's missing an article of clothing in the first place, and scrambles to retrieve the T-shirt that he "could've sworn he left on the couch just a few minutes ago". Honestly, Baz isn't sure if Simon really is that forgetful or if he's completely aware of how much his actions are affecting the dark-haired magician and he's going it on purpose to tease.
A while later, Simon comes back downstairs, fully dressed this time, and finds that Baz is now half-naked.
"Where's your shirt?" It's Simon's turn to gawk at his boyfriend, except he's a lot less subtle about it and doesn't even bother trying to hide the fact that he's openly staring.
Baz shrugs casually, smirking. "I must've left it somewhere too." An obvious lie; the shirt he was wearing earlier was tossed on the chair beside him, still clearly visible in plain sight.
Simon growls and closes the distance between them in a few strides. And then it's all fingertips against flesh, flutters of lips making contact with bare skin, hands tangled in hair, touching, touching, kissing. Baz lets him take control and melts under Simon's fingertips, finally getting what he's wanted since the blond first walked into the living room half-dressed. It's passionate and gentle at the same time, and back at Watford, he never would have guessed that he would get to experience this. Simon.
"You can take off your shirt now, Snow," Baz murmurs between kisses, slightly breathless, exhaling against Simon's jawline, "if you want."
His response is immediate. And it's unbelievably great.
.
iii. summer: sunshine (and how Baz prefers not to come in contact with it)
At first, Simon just thinks that Baz doesn't like having the windows open. Every day, their house feels like an oven because his roommate refuses to let in any air. It's scorching hot outside, but it's not like Baz is even really bothered by the heat, anyway, Simon supposes. Later on, though, he realizes that it's not so much the open windows that Baz is trying to avoid, but rather, it's the sun itself.
Being a vampire is definitely more of a nuisance than Baz is willing to admit, if all the stories about burning up under the sun's rays are even half true.
Turns out, it's not a life-threatening condition, and when Simon asks him about it one day, Baz simply shrugs and says, "It just makes me a little uncomfortable. Don't worry about it; you can go ahead and open the blinds if you want."
Simon doesn't think he's supposed to realize that the sun irritates Baz—Baz hides things sometimes, so that other people wouldn't have to feel uneasy around him—but Simon is getting better at picking up the subtle signals Baz sends out subconsciously. Like how he stuffs his hands in his pockets when he's nervous. Or how he gets all tense when he's been out in the sun for too long.
The sun seems to drain Baz's energy. His movements become sluggish and it takes more effort than usual just to pour a glass of water. Simon watches him from across the kitchen counter, head resting on his hand, and frowns when Baz doesn't even call him out for staring. He can't decide if he prefers the lack of snarky comments thrown his way over their regular banter, when he knows that Baz is in a good mood, not worrying about the rays of sunlight that seep through the curtains.
That's it, Simon thinks. If the room needs to be dark for Baz to act like his normal self again, then so be it.
Simon stands and promptly lets the curtains down.
Baz's head snaps up. "Are you sure?"
"It's fine." But with the curtains closed, Baz has the advantage of being able to see better in the dark.
He takes this chance to blow softly on the back of Simon's neck, laughing as the blond yelps in surprise.
"Thanks, Simon."
The use of his first name doesn't go unnoticed.
.
iv. fall: into my arms
It's fall and Baz falls in love with Simon all over again.
Kissing Simon Snow is red-orange leaves that blow gently to the ground on a chilly October day. It's warm sweaters cuddled up by the fireplace, flickering, warm, home. It is decorated Christmas trees, specifically the star at the top that lights up, the twinkle that can be seen in his eyes when their faces are just inches apart. The sweet taste of hot chocolate that settles comfortably in his stomach for the next couple of hours. It's tender and loving and speaks so much to fill in the blanks between them.
"Oh my god," Simon says when they break apart, and Baz thinks that's just about the best way to describe it.
.
.
.
Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall.
Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall.
And repeat.
A/N: I don't usually write pure fluff… like, at all. But I tried. And I just ship them so much.
Apologies if I didn't get the slang or characterization right; this is my first (only?) Carry On fanfic, so I'm still very inexperienced at it all, haha.
~Madin456.