"Hello, darkness my old friend." Simon held out a hand and grinned ruefully.

"I still go by Baz, actually." Baz took it, and his devilish smile was the same too.

They sat down. It was years later, and they were at a publishing party. The world hadn't ended. Simon had defeated the Humdrum, and life had gone on. He had received a nice shiny medal for his troubles, but he soon learned that a prophesied hero—someone with potential yet to come to fruition—got a lot more respect than an actual one. There were already rumors circling about the veracity of some of his more elaborate endeavors, and the world was somewhat surprised to find that he had the audacity to have flaws. Hence the reason for the party: Penelope had published a book.

They always knew Penny would do great things. Chronicling the life of one Simon Snow wasn't even the tip of the iceberg, really. It was more of a favor to him than to her career. A well-respected author and historian, Penelope Bunce had done this out of the kindness of her heart. Unable to completely compromise her integrity, she gone at it objectively, not letting Simon in on the process at all. In fact, he hadn't even seen the manuscript until the final draft, and by that time it was too late to edit out some of the more, shall we say, compromising sections.

"So, what's the Mage's Heir get up to these days?" Baz asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Simon cringed a little at the title. Years ago, he had learned to accept it—albeit grudgingly, as all real heroes must—but now it felt odd again.

He laughed softly to mask his discomfort. "Well, you've got to buy the book to find out, just like everyone else. Actually, before you read it I should probably tell you something."

"Let me guess: Penny's completely edited me out of your lives."

"Very funny. Look, there's some stuff in there—pure speculation on the author's part, of course—about us in school."

Baz raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly. Clearly he wasn't going to make this any easier.

"Well, I guess it's better you hear it from me." Simon took a deep breath. "I had a massive crush on you at Watford."

Baz shook his head slowly, infuriatingly. He smiled in that maddening way of his, like he knew something Simon didn't.

"Well? Nothing to say? I find that hard to believe." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Is this supposed to be news to me?"

"What?" Simon spluttered.

"I'm just asking, do you honestly think I didn't know that?"

"Oh, gods. Was I really that–"

"Obvious? Yes. So pathetically, embarrassingly obvious."

Baz didn't seem mad, exactly. There had always been the chance Simon would end up jinxed into a toad or punched in the face. But this benign reaction was equally, if not more, jarring.

"Why didn't you say something? You could've at least let me know it wasn't reciprocated, so that I could stop embarrassing myself." Simon couldn't bring himself to be angry.

"Let you stop embarrassing yourself? It was too much fun to watch."

"Did you— Oh, gods, you couldn't say something in eight years? I can't imagine you'd've passed up the opportunity to lord it over me." Simon punctuated this with a light elbow to Baz's ribs.

"I couldn't exactly bring it up. We lived in the same room."

"I don't see the problem with that. We spent half our time not speaking to each other anyway."

Baz still hadn't said it yet. He hadn't stated, explicitly, that he wasn't interested, and Simon knew it was stupid to cling to that.

"It's a good thing you're so bloody oblivious. It would have made things a tad awkward if you were more astute."

Simon composed his face into a carefully blank mask, one that he'd perfected on the news circuit and wished he had had in his school days. He hesitated, opening his mouth, but Baz cut him off.

"Crowley, do you want me to spell it out for you?" Simon nodded yes. "I—Look, I liked you too."

A grin overtook Simon's face. "Really?" This is it, the ultimate thing to hold over his head. It took him a moment to realize that no, things weren't like that anymore. They weren't at school, and they didn't have to be enemies.

"Yes, really," Baz said, and his eye roll had evolved to something even more sardonic than the last time Simon had seen it. "It's a good thing we don't live together anymore," he added.

It took Simon a moment to catch up to the change in subject. "Why?"

"Because it would make what I'm about to do very awkward."

"I don't get it, what're you—"

Baz kissed him, in the middle of his sentence.

Hours later. "I wasn't even planning on reading the book. You could have gotten away with it, Snow."

"And how exactly would 'getting away with it' have been better for me?"

"Good point."