SUMMARY: In which Simon just wants scones, Baz is always early and steals them, and Penny is there to keep the ship moving along. Each chapter is filled with fluff and Snowbaz, though all stories and ships must go through a twisted road along the journey to their forever. NO MAGIC AU. Rated T for *mild* language. I don't write smut.
I was listening to Revolution - Unsecret featuring Ruelle while writing this. It's a good song (from The Darkest Minds soundtrack.)
Baz swears a lot. Also Penny. Also Simon.
~Almost A Goddess
If you are kind enough to have mistaken me for Rainbow Rowell, I hate to break it to you, but I own nothing but the plot of this fanfiction.
Simon
I was early to Starbucks, for once, but apparently not early enough, for someone had stolen my scones. For the fifth time in the last five days. I'm pissed, to say the least. I mean, I'm not ready to kill, but maiming and torture sounded surprisingly fun right now. I have been denied of my cherry scones for the past five days, and I am on a rampage.
"Penny," I whine, leaning on the counter. "Why did he steal from me."
"For the last time, Simon, he didn't steal from you. He just bought the last twenty-five sour cherry scones we had in stock. Perfectly normal," adds Penny sarcastically. "Just get a matcha green tea scone instead and move on."
"I'm going to take your advice, Penny. I'm going to get my scones back," I say, walking away from Penny and towards the stranger with an overly large amount of sour cherry scones. He was casually sipping a venti iced black coffee. The bastard.
"Simon, that was not what I said!" shouts Penny, but her voice is mostly lost over the fans, angry customers who had been waiting to order for a long time, and the fact that I was shutting her out. "Simon Snow, get your ass back here right now! Simon!"
I march straight over to the thief, ready to tell him off.
Until he looks me in the eye and I freeze.
"Snow," he says with a nod of his head, then goes back to sipping his coffee like he doesn't care. As if he hadn't been stealing my scones.
I gape at him. "How do you know my name?" I ask stupidly, still staring at him.
"Penelope was practically shrieking at you." His accent is posh, probably from some old aristocratic family. "I heard. Simon Snow. Are you going to continue standing there, looking like a lost dog, or are you going to move on with your business?"
I glare. "I want my scones back," I say stubbornly, crossing my arms and refusing to budge.
"They were never yours to begin with," he says, the corners of his lips twitching upward. He's trying not to laugh at me. "But if you'd really like a scone, wait until tomorrow."
I scoff. "Are you joking? You've been stealing them from me for the past five days!"
"I never stole them from you," he drawls, leaning back in his chair. He was so bloody infuriating I was about to go off and then some.
"You think you didn't steal from me? Why else would you buy twenty-eight fucking sour cherry scones?" I slam my fist down on the table, causing his coffee to spill.
"Shit, Snow," he says angrily, wiping up the coffee with napkins. "Calm the fuck down, I wasn't trying to hurt you."
"Then stop stealing my scones!"
"I wasn't stealing them!"
"Alright, break it up, Simon, and get the fuck out of this shop," says Penny. "I will not have you scaring away the customers. Take it outside."
"Tell him to give me a scone, then," I say stubbornly.
Fuck, I still didn't know his name. "Take a scone then! I wasn't trying to steal them from you!"
I huff and turn away, refusing his offer. "Hell no," I say.
"Just take a fucking scone, Snow, you said you wanted one!"
Baz
Shit, he's really starting to get on my nerves. First he says he wants a scone, now he doesn't.
I start walking out the door, when his annoyingly large and perfect hand grabs my arm. Damn, those muscles.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck no.
"What the fuck, Snow?" I ask irritably, shoving his hand off.
He grabs my arm again like a lost puppy. "What's your name?" he asks earnestly, and fuck I couldn't control myself.
I blush. Shit, this was not supposed to happen. "Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch," I say quickly, then stop still. That was my full name. Fuck.
"No shit?" he asks bluntly, his hand dropping to his side.
I nod curtly. "My friends call me Baz. Please, call me Basil," I say sharply, then spun on my heel and walked out.
When I first started buying all the scones to get his attention, I did not expect to fall for him this hard.
I mean, I know I'm gay, but get a hold of yourself, Baz!
"Hey - wait!" he calls, and fuck if he didn't sound like such a lost child I wouldn't have turned around.
"Fuck off," I say sharply, because I'm such a bloody fucking idiot sometimes.
He stops still. His eyes are blue - really blue, the kind of blue you only read about in novels. Even his hair makes him look like a fictional prince, some sort of stupidly brave hero who saves everyone.
He walks away.
Shit, why do I feel so bad?
Penny
Simon might be an oblivious (albeit adorable) klutz, but this new level of stupidity might top it all. I mean, I've always suspected he was gay, ever since he broke up with Agatha, but now I have a chance to set him up. With Baz. Because I have reached a new low.
"Penny," he whines, and he really does sound like a lost puppy. "Don't let him come back."
"Simon, he's a customer," I say, "and we're not bringing in enough as it is. At least he paysfor his stuff."
"Penny," he says again, like it's the only word in his vocabulary. "Penny," he repeats infuriatingly, "I'm your friend. You work here. And you know I love sour cherry scones."
"Simon," I say, just to mock him, "that doesn't mean you get free food."
He frowns and crosses his arms.
"Shit, Si, you're holding up the line. Are you going to order or not?"
"Hush, Pen, I'm thinking," he says (like he's got all the time in the world. He doesn't, he has less than three minutes before I kick him out.)
"Well, fucking hurry up," I snap irritably.
He frowns again. "Alright, I'll just take a chocolate scone and - "
"We're out of that," I say with a raised eyebrow.
"Lemon pound cake?"
"Gone."
"Fuck, Penny, I don't want anything else."
"Then get out of line!"
"But I've been standing here for ten minutes, and these people look ready to kill," he whines again with a pout.
"Just get a frappe or something," I say. "That'll be £3.40," I add, just because I'm not giving him anything more for free.
He shrugs and hands me a £5 note. "Keep the change?" he offers, and I shake my head.
"Si, I'll get fired," I tell him with a small smile. "Speaking of fire - have you met Baz?" I already know he has, but still.
"Fuck, you know him?" he says with a glare. "The fucking bastard."
Oh, I'll get them together someday.
