I'm gonna start posting a bunch of AUs. Some will be multichaptered, some oneshots.

At least two of them will be set during this time period, because those awkward hours where the four of them were in the same room and no one voiced what was really going were just full of unfulfilled opportunities for revelations.

"No," Baz said flatly.

"Why not?" demanded Simon.

"Because I don't feel like it."

"Why are you being like this?" Simon groaned, leaning forward and hitting his head on the table with a thunk.

"I can't help my sparkling personality, Snow," Baz said, raising a lofty eyebrow. "I was born with the incomparable ability to amaze all those around me. I know it must be difficult to stand so close to such brilliance, but if you could please try to contain your blatant jealousy-"

"So damn difficult," Simon muttered.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Snow. Did you think we were going to be bosom friends from now on? It's a fucking truce, not a goddamn tea party-"

"No! But if you could possibly, for just two seconds, stop trying to make me bloody weep-!"

"-because I would rather walk through hot coal and have my wand snapped in two before ever considering you a friend!"

Agatha and Penelope sat on the couch next to each other and watched their bickering escalate into a shouting match with some confusion. They weren't sure exactly what the issue was. Then again, the boys had never needed much of a reason to stomp their feet and wave their fists at each other.

Finally, Simon lost it. Smoke rolled off his shoulders as he bellowed-

"Jesus Christ, Baz! What have I ever done to make you think I wanted to be your goddamn friend!?"

Baz shot him a look.

"Besides that," Simon amended, scratching the back of his neck. "And that's not . . . not friends, Baz."

Baz sat back and eyed at him suspiciously. "Not friends?"

Simon was a bit pink, but that could have been from all the shouting. He shook his head. "Not friends. Never friends."

Baz blinked. "Well. Ahem. All right then."

They looked away from each other, a little flushed. From the heat, you know.

"Umm . . . maybe we should have some music," Agatha suggested, nervously glancing back and forth between the boys as if thinking one of them might still explode. She went over to the rather old fashioned radio standing in a corner between two bookshelves and turned the volume on, spinning the tuning dial until she found a station playing Christmas music.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas
There's just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true . . .
All I want for Christmas
Is you . . ."

Simon started laughing. Baz tried to keep a straight face, but failed miserably when he caught Simon's eye and ended up dissolving into snickers. They hooted and cackled and snorted and chortled and until there was no breath left in their lungs and tears were streaming down their faces. Simon slumped on the table, hiccupping between giggles, and Baz fell out of his chair and sank to his knees, holding his sides and gasping, both of them overcome with half-hysterical amusement.

Penelope and Agatha looked even more alarmed than when there had been shouting.

"It's just – hic – so funny," Simon laughed weakly. "Because you don't even know – hic . . ."

"Excellent choice, Wellbelove," Baz breathed. "Really excellent. Top notch irony, right there."

And they both collapsed in mirth.

It took some time for them to calm down, partly because it felt so good to laugh, and partly because the girls' horrified faces really were just that funny.

Finally they composed themselves, hauling each other up into shaky standing positions and wiping away tears of laughter. They each took a few deep breaths. Then several more, this time without breaking into renewed giggles.

"All right. Okay." Simon leaned forward with his hands on the back of a chair. "What is it you want?"

"A guarantee," Baz said, pulling his chair out and sitting back down.

"How on earth am I supposed to do that?"

Baz crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair so far it was tipped onto two legs. He glanced over at the girls and then gave Simon a very pointed look.

Simon's shoulders slumped. "Now?"

"Right here. Right now." Baz gave him an evil grin. "Unless you're too scared . . ."

Simon's face hardened defensively. "Shut up, I am not! Twat."

"Uncultured lummox."

"Pompus git."

"Blighted bugger."

"Conceited clotpole."

"Plonking prattling pillock."

"Dick."

"Wanker."

"Bastard. Wait, do I have to tell them everything?" Simon was looking alarmed.

"No." Baz sat up properly and glared at Simon. "Aleister Crowley, no. Just . . . the other bit."

"The other bit," Simon said as if the words tasted sour. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Well what do you want to call it? The Not-Friends clause?"

"Can't we just call it what it is?"

Baz raised a sardonic eyebrow. Most eyebrows couldn't manage as specific an emotion as 'sardonic', but Baz's could. "Which is what, exactly?"

"It's . . . well what am I supposed to tell them then?"

"I suppose I'm about to find out. Wait, wait, hold on-" Baz took out his phone and tapped it a few times. Then he held it up to find the best angle. "All right, go."

"Are you recording this?" demanded Simon.

"I have so few pleasures in life; surely you wouldn't begrudge me this small thing," Baz said, but he was grinning. "Besides, I want to be able to remember their expressions for years to come."

"Crazy pyro lunatic," Simon muttered, turning to face Penny and Agatha.

"Pretentious asshole," Baz said, without missing a beat.

"I'm pretentious!? I'm not the one with a haunted mansion and gargoyles on his bed!"

"I didn't ask for the bloody gargoyles, Snow, those were hardly my fault-"

"What were you doing on Basil's bed?" interrupted Agatha. Simon and Baz stared at her.

"That's an excellent question, Agatha," Penny said, crossing her arms and giving the boys a piercing look.

". . . You're up, Snow. What were we doing on my bed?" Swiveling the phone so he got Simon's expression, Baz looked as if Christmas had arrived early and Santa had come in person to deliver a present the size of Texas.

"Which time?" asked Simon.

"There was more than one time?"

"Well, it was more in his room-area, and the first time we were sleeping, well actually I was sleeping on the couch, and then we had to get dressed a couple times, and then there was a lot of kissing, and then we had dinner, and then there was more kissing and sleeping."

Both Penny and Agatha stared at him blankly.

"Kissing who?" Agatha asked.

"Ever the intelligent response, Wellbelove," Baz sighed.

"Well . . ." Simon glanced at him helplessly. "Each other?"

"Okay . . . what's the punchline?" said Penny.

"We're together," Simon blurted out. "As in dating, as in a couple, as in boyfriends. Hence the kissing. And the not killing each other, at least not yet . . ."

Agatha gaped. Penny gaped. And then they both looked over at Baz, fully expecting him to set the record straight.

Baz had nearly fallen off his chair at Simon's little proclamation, but he quickly righted himself, looking a little dazed.

"Wow, he really turned that around on me, didn't he?" he said to the phone.

Penny voiced what she and Agatha were both thinking.

"What happened yesterday?"

I used the word chortled. Please review.