SIMON

Baz leads me back out of the catacombs in a matter of minutes, never once does his grip on my hand loosen, which I'm grateful for. He doesn't try and talk to me either, which is good, I don't think he would take kindly to my reasons for being in the catacombs. Spying, even failed, generally isn't taken kindly to, even among friends. Not that Baz is my friend. It doesn't feel right classifying him as an enemy either though, not with his presence keeping me calm.

Night air welcomes us when we emerge, suddenly I can breathe again. Baz and I walk back to the building where our room is in silence, me because I don't ever want to talk about what happened, Baz because he's Baz. The stairway up really only allows for one person to walk up at a time. Baz lets his arm trail behind him and I decide to keep ahold of his hand. It's still too dark to see where the steps are, and even though it can't be much after lights out, meaning I'm up later than this all the time, this feels different, and I don't want to ask him to make a light. I still don't trust myself. He opens the door, saying, "You can let go of my hand now, Snow." As if there's nothing he would like better than for me to get as far away from him as possible, he probably does, he's made his feelings toward me quite clear.

I'm to tired to think of a retort, and I'm pretty sure that was a jibe, "Thanks." I say, before collapsing onto my bed. From across the room I hear Baz moving around, then the bathroom door shuts and the shower turns on. Baz has the right idea, again, I think, realizing I've taken rather a lot of the catacombs back with me. Bloody vampire. Just like that I'm asleep.

A sharp poke in the back wakes me up, it doesn't feel like I could have been asleep all night. Which it turns out I haven't been.

"Snow," Baz says, "Get up and shower, you're making the whole place smell like rat."

I drag myself into the bathroom and strip, before letting the hot water and soap wash away any evidence of my recent adventures. Quickly drying off my hair, I wrap a towel around my waist and exit the bathroom. Cold air slowly freezes me as I try and find my pajamas, they don't seem to be in any of my drawers, and I just beginning to look a second time when Baz gets up.

"Crowley Snow!" He says, picking up the offending garments from the floor, "How helpless are you?" He tosses them to me before getting back into bed.

"I didn't need your help!" I say defensively.

Baz looks at me in disgust, "Just like you didn't need my help in the catacombs?" He asks.

It takes almost all of my self control not to scream at him. "That was different," I say at last, and it was, the Baz I met there was someone I could be friends with, someone I'd want to be around.

I can practically see the acid retort he's about to spit at me, but then he just sighs and says, "Yeah, it was."

"Baz?" I ask.

"Need me to find something else for you, Snow? Did you perhaps lose your dignity, I think that's still down with the rats." He says.

"No," I pause, knowing what I'm about to do is the right thing but not wanting to anyways, "Thank you, and Baz, whatever I did to you, I'm sorry."

Silence from the other side of the room, not even the sound of a breath.

"Good night," I say, trying one last time.

"Good night, Snow, and thank you."

BAZ

I hold Snow's hand until we reach our room. I think he's too shell shocked to let go so I allow myself the few extra minutes of not acting like me. Crowley, he's holding my hand. As soon as we reach the door though, I realize this has to stop, otherwise I'll never let go. I summon all the venom I can muster and tell him to let go, the sad part is, this probably hurts me more than him. I get my stuff and head to the shower, I don't really need to, except I need time to figure out what this meant, time to deny what I feel.

My family isn't exactly the touchy feely type, but I've hugged enough people to know it doesn't normally leave you feeling the way I do now, granted I've never hugged Snow. Just. Stop. Thinking. About. It. And I try, but it doesn't seem to be my conscious thought controlling the ghosts of Simon's breath on my neck, an after glow of his hand in mine. Actually it's a bit of a problem.

The room smells like rat when I return, and Snow is asleep. Poke him and tell him to go take a shower, I don't really mind, but he will later. Sitting down, I finish the last of my paper and flop on top of my covers, listening to the water running from inside the bathroom and trying to sleep. Trying not to think about him.

Snow stumbles out, half naked as usual, I wish he wouldn't do that, it's really distracting, and starts looking for his pajamas. At least he's wearing them tonight, I think as I spot them abandoned on the floor. I want to let him find them on his own, but it's impossible to ignore him. I start getting lost in the lines of his back, how they're ever so slightly curved, the way his hair falls into his blond hair falls into his face. By his second time looking through his drawers I have to tell him where they are, if only to keep myself from doing something I might regret.

I'm extra vicious when he tries to talk to me again, he deserves it, I think. He doesn't.

Then comes the second most expected sentence, "Thank you, and Baz, whatever I did to you, I'm sorry."

I want to scream at him, "You didn't do anything!" Well at least not anything he could help. I want to tell him you're welcome, and thank him. I want to tell him how I feel, and I don't. I want him to hate me again- because this would be so much easier- and I don't. So instead I keep quiet, but when he wishes me goodnight I feel I have to acknowledge what he's said, even if it's only. "Thank you."

(Is highlighted needed? wanted?)

Morning is less of a hell than usual, Snow keeps the curtains drawn and gets dress quietly. I don't even wake up until he shakes me, "Get up Baz, we're going to be late for breakfast."

"What?" I ask, not because of this fairly simple statement, I'm not that tired, but at how he's acting.

Snow, apparently not understanding, begins to repeat himself.

I cut him off by getting out of bed and starting towards my dresser, but he blocks my way. He's to close, everything about him assails my senses.

"Look," He starts off, "I've been thinking maybe-"

"You've been thinking? That's new, careful not to hurt yourself." I say, it's to easy a insult to leave. I push past him and start looking for my clothes.

"Anyways," he says, clearly annoyed, "I've been thinking that maybe we should um…"

"You just said that." I say trying to annoy him, deciding I should probably just change here so as not to seem weird to Snow. He's always gone by the time I get up. "We should…" I prompt him, pulling off my shirt and trying to pretend he's not here.

His words come out in a jumbled rush and end up sounding like, "maybe-we-should-be-friends-if-you-want?"

I pull on the rest of my clothes and turn to face him, "Haha, very funny Snow. Now if you don't mind I should be going, wouldn't want to be late for breakfast." I race out of the room before he can see the hurt on my face, not because of what he said, there's a good chance he meant it, but because I can't except.

SIMON

At breakfast, between bites of scone, I tell Penny everything. She stares at me like I've gone mad, but waits until the end to start telling me off. Apparently of all the "irresponsible, ill thought out, brainless foolishness involving Baz" this is the worst yet. "You need to be nicer to him, Simon." She scolds me. "He could have just left you there you know. It's always up to me to fix things like this, isn't it?"

"What?" I ask.

"Never mind, Simon. We've got to go to class."

A/N

Here's a shorter chapter, expect more soonish. Just finished midterms, YAY!