SIMON

I get the laptop set up and angle it so that it includes the corner of the couch where Baz has settled. He's sitting with his back very straight, looking bored, which is how I know he's dreading this. That, and the fact that I already knew.

Although it was him who brought it up in the first place.

"You know Snow, that therapist of yours seems to have done you some good," he'd said out of the blue one morning. "Mind if I listen in on one of your sessions?"

He was trying to sound casual, but after months of fleeing the premises if I so much as mentioned her name, I knew what he was asking was a big deal.

"Of course. Do you want to talk to her or just, you know…"

"Words, Snow. It's a pity she hasn't been able to help you learn to form complete sentences." Eyebrows arched, he'd started to stalk out of my room, where we'd been lying together on the bed in a tangle of limbs just moments before.

Irrationally afraid he was going to leave the flat and never bring it up again (irrationally because all he was wearing was a pair of my pyjama bottoms), I dashed after him and caught him by the arm in the entrance to the kitchen. He half turned towards me and almost snarled, but I didn't dare let go.

"I mean, do you want to say hello or ask her anything about what she does, with me, or something like that, or do you want to just, you know, just sit there and listen…for the whole session, or just at the beginning, or what?" It'd all come out of my mouth in a tumbled rush and I could see Baz struggling between staying haughty and cold, safe, and feeling badly for me. I guess my anxiety at that moment was just as palpable as his.

He'd narrowed his eyes and said, "Listen in. Like I've just said, Snow." Then he'd pulled his arm away and turned his attention to the refrigerator.

"Can I introduce you, though? It might be a bit strange if you're just sitting there, silently, you know?"

I'd held my breath while he carried out an obsessively thorough examination of the various jams and spreads, hoping I hadn't pushed him too far.

"Yes. Fine. I'll make nice and say hello. Can we stop talking about it now?"

Now he's sitting here on the couch, clearly regretting ever having brought it up, but at least he isn't trying to leave. I actually thought about asking Penny to cast something on the door this morning to prevent that, but I was afraid of what would happen if he found out.

He looks over at me now and says coolly, like it's an afterthought, "We're just being introduced, correct?"

He's not fooling me. "Yes, just like I told you the last ten times you asked." I suppress a smile.

"Well, I know you've been dying to have me talk to this woman for months, and you are a bit thick, so I want to be sure. And I've only asked twice."

"Three times, at least. And I can't believe you have the nerve to be worried that I'm secretly trying to lure you into talking about your feelings, after all the times you actually tried to lure me to my death!"

"Just get it set up will you? It can't be as complicated as you're making it look."

The closer I get to having everything adjusted and actually getting Gemma on the line (she's said I should call her by her first name, I was a bit put off by the informality of it at first, but I'm used to it now), the haughtier Baz's expression gets.

I have to admit, I'm enjoying his discomfort just a little bit. But I know I need to be careful so he doesn't bolt. Baz has mostly been a rock for me over the past year, but I know there's a lot going on underneath that he's going to have to deal with sometime. I can support him as much possible, but I can't do the work for him, so I'm really hoping that this is the beginning of something bigger for him.

I've talked to my therapist a lot about Baz over the past year. I've talked to her a lot about everything. But she's definitely heard enough about Baz that she won't waste any time figuring out that his poise and imperious expression are hiding an extreme case of nerves. I finally have everything ready to go. I turn to Baz and raise my eyebrows at him. He rolls his eyes. I make the connection.

BAZ

"Hello Baz, it's a pleasure to meet you." The therapist, Gemma (The liberties Americans take with protocol are shocking), turns so she's facing me. She smiles a professional smile, friendly, but not particularly warm. I can tell if she were here I'd be shaking a firm but gentle hand. I'm glad she's not here.

"Likewise." I say, doing my best to appear calm. "Thank you for agreeing to this."

"You're welcome. Simon tells me that you'd like to sit in on our session, to get an idea of what it's like. Is that right?"

"Yes. Please."

"Before we start, do you have any questions for me?"

I don't, so she turns her attention to Simon.

It's fascinating watching Snow explore his thoughts and feelings with this woman who is a stranger to me, but at the same time it's nothing new. Listening to his words and observing his body language, I'm struck by how well I know him after what feels like such a short time together. I suppose I can't discount the years I spend watching him at Watford, you can get to know a lot about a person from a safe distance, although I never thought the details I spent my time memorizing would matter in the long run. We've been dating for over a year now, but several months of that barely count because I was at Watford and Simon wasn't, and he wasn't very talkative during that time, or for a while afterwards. I suppose I have this woman to thank, at least in part, for changing that. I start to warm towards her a little.

As the session nears its end, Gemma looks back at me and says, "Baz?"

I start slightly—I hope she doesn't notice—before replying, "Yes?"

"Simon has told me that you played football at Watford."

"That's right." I nod. What else has he told her about me? What hasn't he told her? Crowly.

"Have you considered picking it back up? The London School of Economics has several football teams, at a variety of levels. I expect there'd be one suited to you."

I'm staring at her, probably blankly, my jaw might even have dropped, I can't tell. To be honest, it hadn't even occurred to me to look into it. I suppose there must have been flyers up or information on the website or something, but what with starting uni, adjusting to life as an urban vampire, openly dating Simon whilst closeting my magic, and just generally getting used to being alive and having a future ahead of me, the thought of playing football here never even crossed my mind. I can't believe that it didn't.

I recover—my mouth was open—and say, "I hadn't thought about that."

I look over at Snow and he's smiling at me

"That's right, you came to all of my games, didn't you?" I feel the beginnings of a smile creep onto my face too.

"Just to be sure you weren't up to anything."

"I was up to playing football, you wanker. Just how much plotting do you think can be accomplished on the pitch in the middle of a game?"

"In retrospect, there may have been a few other reasons I went." He's grinning now.

"Oh? Such as?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Your eyes, your legs, your hair, definitely your hair."

Gemma is keeping quite, probably mentally filling a whole notebook with observations about us that I don't want to get anywhere near.

I don't care (well, I do, but I do my best to appear otherwise). I throw a cushion at Simon and then here he is, right next to me. He's scooted down to my end of the couch, and he's throwing his arms around me in a playful mock tackle. I lean in and turn it into a hug, burying my face in his neck.

I feel embarrassed to be hugging my boyfriend in front of a complete stranger, one we've had to set up an appointment to see, for Crowly's sake. I know Simon can feel me tensing up, and this is when it really hits home that he knows me just as well as I know him, because he understands exactly what's on my mind.

"You know she already knows everything about you that I know, right?" he whispers into my ear.

I sigh. I hate that thought, but it's what I figured. I sit up and pull my face out of Snow's neck, but I leave my arm around him. I turn towards the camera on the laptop and say, "Thank you. I'll look into it." I try for a friendly smile, but what comes out is probably more of a grimace. Merlin, I'm still nervous talking to her, even though I have a feeling she's just opened my world up in an important way. Maybe I could stand to talk to her on my own one of these days. I'll have to think about it.

Simon and Gemma say their goodbyes and he shuts down the connection. Now he's standing over me. He reaches out and pulls me up by my wrists. Once I'm up, I shake my hands out of his grasp so I can slide them around his waist. He still smiling, but he also looks serious.

"Thank you Baz," he says.

"For what?"

"For talking to her, for taking me to the symphony, for letting me have this, all of this, with you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I say, as I slide one hand up the back of his neck and pull him towards me."