The lemonade sunshine filtered through the windows that Simon had never closed last night,even though Baz had asked him to multiple times, hadpleadedwith him to closethe windows just once, because you never know what might fly inatWatford.
Baz groaned audibly and rolled onto his back, cupping a fist and rubbing the last bit of sleep from his eyes. He had filled up last night, the first time in a while, and he was mildly morecontent than usual. Just about as content as you can be while sharing a bedwithSimon Snow.
Speaking of the git, he was finally waking up, 25 minutes after Baz had dragged himself from sleep and begun to get ready. Baz wasn't really complaining, because it gave him time to stare at Simon's golden curls and count the moles on his cheeks and neckover and over, enough times to memorize their placements. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone other than himself. Bloody Snow, he'd never let it go if he found that out.
Speaking of the git yet again, (he seemed to be the only thing on his mind at this point. Honestly Bastilion. Your father would be so disappointed at your lack of wariness. He snorted. That's not the only thing his father would be disappointed about.) Simon wasrolling over and wrapping his arm across Baz's chest and making tiny little groaning noises in the back of his throat. Baz chuckled and his chest rumbled heavily under Simon's fingers that were tapping out patterns directly over his heart."You bleary idiot"
Baz muttered, before completely nestling into his boyfriends arms and kissing him. "God Snow, morning breath!"
Simon only laughed and rolled out of bed to brush his teeth and (hopefully) drag a comb through his hair. Baz knew he wouldn't change until after he'd gotten some food into him, but one can hope. Baz left his jacket upstairs for the very excuse of climbing backup the stairwellwith Simon every morning, taking the chance to press Simon against the brick wall outside their door and latch himself to his neck just under where his collar hit, easily hiding the markings he left behind. He'd card his handsthroughgolden curls and bite his lips when he kissed him. It was desperate and quiet and the only chance they got in the day to be together without having to spit acid words at each other and dodge blows about being the Mage's Heir, or the Most ObviousVampire To EverExist(™).
Baz sighed heavily as he turned up the sleeves on his shirt and popped his collar the way he knew his boyfriend loves and hung his loose tie around his neck. Simon breezed out the door as Baz moved on to the very last button on the shirt, hair messy asever, but breath minty and clean, thankfully. He caught Baz's hands before they could close the button themselves and pressed a kiss right in the exposed area before buttoning up the shirt and tightening his tie, grinning like Cheshire Cat.
Baz draped his jacket across the chair and Simon pulled on his school pants (at least those were on) under his Watford sweatshirt, far too big for him and folded under the crest into his pants. Baz decided to keep quiet about the tuck in, because heabsolutelyloved how dorky his boyfriend looked in the morning. Speaking of his boyfriend, he hadn't kissed him in over five minutes, and Snow looked distressed, like a puppy when you wouldn't let him up on the couch, so he leaned over and pressed akissinto his forehead, tugging the stringson the hoodie. They tumbled downstairs together, laughing like new lovers. They reached the Hall for breakfast before they met anyone else. They straightened their ties, and Simon pushed open thedoor. Bazshoved him through with as dark of a laugh as he could manage this early in the morning. They settled into their separate tables and shot venom laced glances at each other. Baz was holding well as he raised his eyebrow at Snow in scorn, untilSnow bit his lip and proceeded to wink as he turned back to Penny. Baz's blood ran cold.
"...but if you really want to come out that way, be my guest." Penny finished.
"What?" Simon questioned, obviously not having paid attention.
"Simon. You have Baz's last name emblazoned on your back. It's his fucking football sweatshirt."
Simon glanced back at his lover, who's eyes were wider than saucer plates as he stared at his choice of attire. Simon groaned and dropped his head on the table. What a pair of bloody idiots they were. Baz shrugged, rolled his eyes and stalked over toSnow's table."Alastair Crowley Snow, can't you keep your hands out of my wardrobe for twenty minutes?" Simon raised his head, blush dusted across his cheeks as he tried to stumble out an answer. "Never mind that," Baz chided, before pressinghis lips againstSimon's nose, then ghosting over his cheeks, until Simon nearlymewled, the absolutebastard, as he tilted his chin up for a kiss. Baz complied, running his tongue over Simon's lower lip and biting
hard enough tomake him gasp. Both pairs of lips were swollen as Baz drew back and smirked quietly as he settled into his seat and grabbed a sausage off his boyfriends plate.
"I'm going to have to take that back now Snow." Baz grinned, reaching to tug on the top of his sweatshirt. Simon's hands moved just as quickly, one grabbing Baz's wrist and the other tugging the sweatshirt down as hard as he could."There's nothing onunderneath this, is there?" Simon smiled sheepishly and peppered Baz's jawline with kisses, looking for some form of sympathy.
A near shout echoed across the breakfast table. If people weren't noticing before, they were now.
"Alastair Crowley Snow!"