i finished reading carry on today and was inspired. and then i wrote this it doesn't have a plot oops.
rated t for language.
disclaimer: rights to the characters from carry on go to rainbow rowell.
"I think I forget what magic feels like."
Simon is sitting cross-legged on the couch when he says it. He's got a mug of tea in one hand and Baz's hand in the other. His fingers are freezing and stiff, but his palms are a warm contrast to Baz's icicle-like hands.
Baz's head snaps to face him, turning away from the movie on T.V. Something about a dog or a spy or something. He's not been paying attention really. Nothing can properly hold his attention anymore. Simon had cracked open the window, even though it was mid-winter and so fucking freezing, because he loved having the windows open. A soft breeze is coming from outside, turning Simon's curls over one another. they've gotten almost obscenely long now, but he hasn't had time for a haircut. Of course Penny had offered to do it with magic, but Simon feels he should adapt.
Baz still isn't entirely sure what he needs to adapt to; it's not like his boyfriend is completely cut off from the world of mages. He lived with one and was dating another.
"What do you mean?" he asks, because he doesn't really know how exactly one responds to angsty questions like that.
His boyfriend is a little bit of a drama queen.
Simon lets out a slow, drawn-out breath from his nose. His tongue feels like it's glued to the roof of his mouth. He's not exactly sure how he can articulate this. He sets his mug of tea on the coffee table beside him and pulls his hand away from Baz's.
He swallows. "I mean what I say. Like, I don't really remember what it feels like. I mean, I emdo/em, but it's more like the words that describe the feeling and not the feeling itself? I remember warm ad electric, but I don't remember what it feels like."
"Yeah?" Baz hums. He's never been good at this. Words he's good with, when it comes to magic. Really good, actually, and he's not afraid to admit it. But not really feelings. His family didn't do feelings growing up, emhe/em doesn't do feelings and never has.
Simon turns his eyes to his hands, in his lap and twisted together. He tries to conjure up the feeling of buzzing in his fingertips, but the closest feeling he can remember is the numbing buzz from running your fingers along a wall for too long. He finds himself doing it sometimes, just to feel some familiarity.
"Yeah."
"I don't know what you want me to say," Baz says honestly, because that's something they're trying now. Honesty. Simon's therapist says it would do their relationship some good, but that's just another thing Baz isn't familiar with. Honesty. Feelings. Yuck.
Simon meets his eyes. "You don't have to say anything. I just. I dunno, I wanted someone to know."
"Okay." Baz turns back to the T.V.
The conversation has fallen into one of their familiar lulls, peaceful and happy. There's a dog on screen again. He has no idea what a dog has to do with this movie; he thought it was an action movie when Simon had put it on, but trust his boyfriend to put something stupid about a dog on. He's a little bit ridiculous that way.
Simon moves closer to Baz and rests his head on his shoulder. Baz puts an arm around his shoulders and breathes in the now-familiar smell of sweet and brown. Warm. That's what Simon is; warm all over except his damn fingertips.
"Do you remember?"
"What?"
"What it felt like. My magic." His blue eyes are expectant and wide, like Baz holds all the answers to his problems. He should really stop thinking that, because Baz doesn't have any answers really, just more problems. They're a bundle of problems, the two of them.
Before Baz can formulate an answer, he continues, "Because I know how yours feels, like fire, but it's, well... Not the same." He does the cute thing with his nose, where he scrunches it up and doesn't look at Baz.
He's feeling soft all over now, which isn't a frequent for him and his freaky vampire ways, as Simon put it.
"Um, well... It was like electricity?" he says lamely and feels pretty fucking dumb because that's what Simon emjust said/em. "Sorry," he apologizes, and he honestly is, because Simon looks so damn defeated.
"It's okay, I did put you on the spot. We were just supposed to be watching emHachi/em, not having emotional speeches this afternoon."
So that's what they're watching. It emis/em about a dog. So predictable.
Baz shrugs and Simon's head flops up and down with his shoulder. His boyfriend gives him an unamused look and settles back into him again. His legs are thrown on top of his.
"It's kind of my obligation to listen to your emotional dung."
Simon doesn't take snips like this personally anymore, because he's just as bad and because he knows Baz really means something different. He's just really bad at dealing with tender situations.
Luckily, so is Simon.
Baz decides to try again. When he starts talking, Simon's eyes meet his directly and steadily.
"It was really warm. But not like mine, like fire. More like sticking a butter knife in a wall outlet, but both less and more intense. When you would push it into me... It was like drinking a really hot drink charged with electricity. and it filled me up, starting from my stomach and spreading all over me." He pauses, looking for the right words. Simon is starring at him intensely. "Full. It was so full of everything. Snakes, it was like your magic wasn't just magic, it was everything came along with it, emotions and memories and stuff. I dunno."
Simon looks away when he realizes that he's been starring for perhaps a little too long. "Thank you... I just miss it sometimes. Like, it's less now, but it was like my whole self was built on being really good at magic and now I don't have that, I don't have the memory either. I don't even have wings and a tail anymore–"
"Honestly that's a bit of a relief; they were getting a little annoying. I'll always miss the cartoon devil tail, though."
Simon snorts and rolls his eyes. "Shut up I'm not done being emotional." He trails off, like he can't find his words. "I just... It's not the same, and I'm glad because a lot of good things have happened, like you and not being at war and stuff, but I still miss it, and what I had."
He feels roses bloom on his cheeks and looks away from Baz.
"I love you, Simon."
They try to say it as often as possible, because it's healthy or something, but the truth is that they're both so shit at saying it. It's usually awkward and strange to say it out loud. Baz had held the words in for so long and Simon didn't even know he loves Baz until, like, a year ago. So it doesn't come out often, and when it does, it's awkward most of the time.
This time it isn't. It's soft and full of things Baz can't articulate to Simon in other words, because he's so fucking shit at emotions, great snakes, and Simon is looking at Baz like he's the bloody sun or something.
Baz is so familiar with this look because it's the exact same pathetic look that he's been giving Simon while his back is turned for years.
That and glares. But loving glares. Mostly.
"I love you too," Simon whispers and cranes his neck to press a warm kiss to Baz's neck, below his earlobe and by his jaw. Baz turns his head captures his lips again, for longer this time. Baz is perpetually cold and Simon is perpetually warm and his lips always burn a little bit against his. It's lovely.
"You okay?"
Simon hums, not unhappily. "I think so. I'm getting there."
"Good luck." Simon snorts against his shoulder. His curls are tickling his nose and Baz turns away from him a little. Mostly to avoid hair up his nostrils.
"Thanks," he drawls. "I'm so glad you're so sympathetic."
Baz laughs through a slightly more intense breath, and pokes Simon in the side with his elbow. "Shut up. I'm great."
He rolls his eyes, something he does a lot now. "Okay whatever."
A sharp emping!/em comes from the coffee table the right of Simon. A text is lighting up his phone from Fiona. Simon hands him his phone and he quickly types the passcode.
emHome soon?/em
He types out a reply and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans.
"Fiona?"
"Yeah. I should probably get going if I want dinner." The clock reads 17:36.
Simon nods and follows him to the front door. He stands awkwardly behind his boyfriend while Baz does up his wool peacoat that's probably more expensive than a month's rent of his flat. His cold fingers fumble with the buttons and Simon catches his hands and does it up for him, slowly and smoothly. He smooths out his lapels like a wife in an old movie. His soft hands cradle Baz's jaw and he kisses him slowly and carefully, so unlike their first fierce kisses when they didn't know when the next one would be.
He knows there will be more.
Baz opens the door and pulls away from Simon. He gives him a smile. "See you tomorrow?"
"Of course."
if you enjoyed that pls leave me a review or a favourite or something. thanks for reading!
-lou