Baz

You know that feeling, when your brain shuts off for a quick second? I'm pretty sure I failed to act as a functioning human being when I agreed to dance with Simon.

The fact that it's Simon makes it slightly less dignity-tarnishing than if I were to be dancing with anyone else in this world.

"Do you have any sort of experience with dancing, Baz?" Simon questions.

"Crowley, I told you I couldn't dance to save my life, Snow." I make a move to turn back towards the kitchen counter and finish cooking our breakfast. Simon grabs my wrist before I can get far, then immediately loosens his grip.

"Sorry," He says. I stare at him blankly. I guess we've gone from death attempts to apologies.

"For what?" Now Simon gives me a blank stare, like he himself wasn't exactly sure what to be sorry for.

"No, I just- shouldn't have grabbed at you. If you don't-"

"I'm just going to pull our breakfast off of the stove, Snow, you'll get to see me humiliate myself soon enough, but I for one think we should keep the food out of it."

I catch Simon's smile in the corner of my vision. "Alrighty then."

I grab four plates out of the cupboards and divide the omelette into as equal portions as I'm able, before setting them onto the kitchen table and returning to where Simon waits. Fiona and father won't complain about cold eggs- they're not in the house anyways, and I'm going to guess that Simon couldn't care less.

"So," Simon raps his knuckles against the counter. "With your family rolling in all this cash," He waves his hand around, gesturing at the mansion in general. "You're telling me that you've never had to go to any weddings, baby showers, reunions or even fucking business events where you're supposed to dance?"

"I find good company with the food tables near the back," I say.

Simon gives me a pitying look, which immediately turns itself into a smile. "I can't exactly knock you for that, I'll admit. I'd expect the food at those events to be nothing if not spectacular. Especially it's coming from someone with enough money to swim in."

Simon walks over and puts a hand on my shoulder. The gesture came as a surprise, and my first instinct was to tense, Simon registers the feel of my shoulder going stiff under his grip and meets my eyes. We stare at each other for a moment in silence, until Simon squeezes my shoulder reassuringly.

"It's okay," He mutters, and my heart swells at how lucky I am to have gotten even this much from the boy I love.

Simon visibly hesitates for a moment, clearly mustering up the words to say to me. It's beyond me why Simon would hesitate, or even care if anything he says would hurt me.

"Um-" Simon's gaze flicks to the cupboards behind me. "Hasn't your father ever asked you to dance with-" His voice trails off near the end.

"You can say it, Simon. Don't be afraid to hurt me." Simon flinches slightly at that. My heart races slightly at the fact that he would flinch at that.

"Well, since your family didn't know about your preferences before yesterday, didn't they ever expect you to ask a girl to dance with you some time or another?"

Surprisingly, the question doesn't affect me all that much. "My father could probably tell that I never liked dancing around people, so he's never voiced any of those concerns out loud, though he was no doubt thinking I should ask a girl out."

Simon goes quiet for a moment, the music still playing softly in the background. "Let's start."

Simon

The realization of it all really starts to set in. I'm going to be dancing with my crush. No- teaching my crush how to dance.

"I thought we'd be dancing freestyle." Baz says as I fix his posture. He grimaces at the prospect that no, we are not in fact going to be dancing freestyle, but we'll be doing the bit of dancing that takes place at more classy events.

"I'm only helping you out for when your father decides to start voicing those opinions regarding your hatred towards dancing."

Baz huffs, but doesn't object when I grab his hand and place it at my side. His hand just hovers there, unsure of what to do.

I look at Baz and wait for his eyes to meet mine. "You can touch me, Baz." With that I feel his hand plant itself a little more firmly at my side. The gesture sends my heart into a frenzy.

I move my hand to Baz's shoulder, letting it rest there. My other hand moves lower until my fingertips brush across his.

My eyes flick upwards to meet his once again, asking for confirmation, and I feel Baz's fingers spread in silent invitation. I thread my fingers through his, and squeeze his hand once, lifting our conjoined hands upwards until we're standing in the proper formation.

Neither of us will meet the other's eyes. When I thread my fingers through Baz's, it became quite apparent that his pulse matched mine, it might've even been slightly faster. I'm pretty sure that Baz was a more than a little shocked to find me nervous as well, considering the fact that this was all my idea.

I'm praying that I can pass my nerves off as something, anything, other than what they really are. I can feel more than see Baz nervously flick his eyes up at my face, and I do the same before he can look away again.

"Follow my lead," I tell Baz. "I'll go slow so you can follow along." He doesn't object or complain, so I take that as an okay.

Just like that I start slowly working my way across the floor, Baz hesitantly mirroring my movements. Our feet move forwards, backwards and across the large expanse of the Pitch mansion's kitchen.

Baz gets the jist of it fairly quickly. Our pulses have both slowed considerably, and we share a laugh every time Baz stumbles or steps on my feet.

In this moment I'm able to forget that we're enemies. I can remember that underneath it all, Baz and I are just boys. Boys trapped in a world that wants us to hate each other.

I dip Baz and he nearly falls over, dragging a laugh out of the both of us. Seeing Baz smile after everything he's been through yesterday alone makes me happier than it should be able to. We start to move again, and I become hyper aware of how intensely Baz is looking at me, observing me.

He's doing it in such a way that is inconspicuous enough that I nearly didn't take notice to it. I want to think that it's because Baz likes me, too. Though the more logical reasoning would be that he's thinking about all of his plotting, and what that would mean for me.

I force myself to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the moment. Baz and I can't stop laughing, and it's honestly one of the most wonderful moments of my life.

Fiona

It's the fucking morning, so naturally, I'm in a slightly pissy mood. Walking over to the bathroom, I freshen up and splash some water on my face, which does enough to wake me up. My clothes are the least of my concern, I don't have anywhere to be after all, so I make myself move.

A yawn breaks itself out of me as I drag my feet across the hall, peering into Baz slightly open door. A quick glance tells me that he and Simon are already downstairs. Malcolm is already out of the house running errands, he told me he'd be out this morning yesterday.

I start padding down the stairs, and turn towards the kitchen, where I allow myself a little smile at what's taking place inside.

Baz and Simon are engaged in a little dance routine. It's cute, that Baz has finally found himself someone that he'd want to spend his life with. At least, I'd assume so, considering the fact that as far as Malcolm and I are aware, Simon is the only person Baz has ever dated.

Since I like to consider myself a decent person, I decide it's best if I let the two of them spend some time alone together that's not in Baz's room.

I make myself stay a safe distance away, where they'll carry on without noticing me. I take this as an opportunity to judge their relationship, and just how comfortable these two are with each other so far.

Apparently they've been dating for a couple weeks, which is pretty good so far. They've probably made out a couple of times already, maybe even done some other stuff in their free time.

I have to fight down a laugh that threatens to escape as Baz stumbles, nearly falling to the floor. He would have, too, -if Simon didn't snake a hand around his back just in time to stop Baz's head from hitting tile.

The two of them let out a little chuckle, the only reason that it wasn't a laugh is because the save brought their faces dangerously close to each other.

I smile to myself as I realize that they're going to kiss. In this moment I couldn't be happier for Baz. From this scene alone, it's obvious it won't take long for these two to be madly in love with each other.

The kiss doesn't come, though. I don't know if either of them realize, but both Simon and Baz are glancing at each other's lips, their faces only a breath apart.

I'm not sure I'm breathing. The music fades out, leaving the sound of their breathing the only thing filling the kitchen. Neither of them make a move to stand either. Baz is still bent backwards at an odd angle, with one hand braced against the counter behind him.

Simon's still got his hand on Baz's back, while the other is planted on the counter beside Baz's. The look they share is fairly intimate, not that either of them realize that.

Because it's obvious these two aren't really dating.

If they were, they'd be all over each other after something like that. Simon seems like someone Baz would definitely be after, the way he's looking at Baz would suggest he'd be interested in Baz as well.

The two eventually pick themselves up and straighten out their shirts. They seat themselves at the kitchen table and rarely look up at the other.

The utter awkwardness that fills the room is enough confirmation for me that something isn't right between them. They aren't dating. Baz seems to like Simon. Simon seems to like Baz.

Neither of them know it.