SIMON

Agatha doesn't have to go back to uni until the end of the week, so she stays with me while Micah and Penny are on their honeymoon. She says it because she needs a break from campus, but I think Penny might have asked her to hang around a bit during her holiday. As if I'm that untrustworthy.

I think they also filed for renter's insurance, but I try not to read too much into it.

"What happened to the Simon who refused to wake before noon?" Agatha grouses as we walk up to my flat. My old flat. Baz's flat. She shuffles closer into my side, protecting herself from the wind as it picks up.

"There's a lot we need to do today," I throw an arm around her shoulder and we huddle together as we run into the building, taking the elevator up and trying to get warm. "I just need to pick Mordy up, and then we'll be off."

"So not only is it freezing outside, but now we're on babysitting duty?"

"She's a great kid," I stoop over and fumble around for the spare key we kept hidden underneath the mat I forced Baz to buy, "we'll have an awesome time, I promise."

"We better," she pokes at my forehead, letting out a surprised squeak when I lunge at her, hooking my arm her neck and ruffling her hair.

"No, not an awesome time. We'll have the best time," I grin, smacking away her swatting hand.

"God, Simon," she screeches, "it took me thirty minutes to curl my hair."

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you over all the fun we're going to have," I sing, catching her wrist with my tail before she has the chance to worm away from me.

Agatha's screams peter out as the door swings open and Baz arches an eyebrow at us. "Sorry to interrupt," he says, cocking his head to the side. I hold on to my grin, although it takes more effort than usual, and let Agatha go. "Mordy," he calls behind him, still watching us with an unreadable expression. "Simon's here."

Agatha's gaze darts between the two of us nervously and she steps around us. "I'm going to go look inside." She walks in and her eyes widen. "My God, this place is massive!"

"I'm sure you and Wellbelove will have a nice day," Baz says coolly, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms across his chest.

My hand inches forward, stopping a breath from his elbow. "It would be more fun with you," I let my arm drop, shrugging. Something flashes over his face, too quick for me to understand. "But yeah, I'm gonna take her over to NYU, and then see if Mordy wants to try some famous New York cupcakes."

"Magnolia's?"

I scoff, insulted. "Please Basilton, you offend me. Cupcake's Café. Want me to bring you back a vanilla?"

"I only eat Bohemian walnut, you know I only eat Bohemian walnut, and the only reason you asked me that is so that you can call me a posh git when I say that I want a Bohemian walnut cupcake with maple buttercream frosting and salted caramel filling, only."

"I was actually going to call you a pretentious wanker, but posh git works fine too."

He smiles, and a tension I hadn't realized settled between my shoulder blade loosens. "I...would have more fun if I was with you too," it comes out halting and unsure, but sincere nonetheless. And surprising. "Fiona's trying to help me figure out finances and classes and what the fuck I'll do once we all graduate."

I just nod, because if I open my mouth, I'll say that I should be a part of that conversation. I should be there to hold his hand while he decides whether he wants wall streets or waltzes, or to complain about my resume when we discuss jobs. He could remind me that I can't exactly put Chosen One on my CV, and I would kiss away his stupid smirk. "Um – I think – we should go."

Mordy sprints out, her face shiny and bright. "Simon, let's go already, we've been waiting all day." I barely have enough time to turn before she's in the elevator and waving goodbye at Baz and I. Agatha comes up behind us, panting.

"I abhor children," she stoops over, her hands on her hips as she breathes hard. "Come on then Simon, unless you want to allow a ten-year-old girl on the streets of New York all on her own."

"Shit, yeah. Bye Baz."

"Snow," he says by way of goodbye, "Wellbelove."

BAZ

I wonder what it's like to be able to just say things the way he does. Like it doesn't cost him anything. But Simon's always worn his heart on his sleeve. I can't blame anything but my own insanity for suggesting friendship instead of what I really want. (Because most sane people don't want to pin Simon Snow to the wall and fuck him until he can't see straight and there's no part of him that hasn't been touched, don't want to watch him sleep and make him laugh and feel his dancing heartbeat underneath icy palms). It's impossible to be his friend when he's all eager and honest and fucking delicious.

Especially with those damned rings toying with my head every night. (Who would have thought it would take jewelry to finally do my head in?)

SIMON

"And that's where your cousin and your brother decimated the other team, my team," Mordy dangles from around my neck, her feet finding purchase on my wings. "They're actually friends now. Maybe she could meet us for tea?"

"Does she like scones?" Ah, a girl after my own heart.

"She loves them, with extra butter too."

She leans forward until I can't see anything but brown curls and her mischievous gaze. "I suppose she sounds all right." She kisses my cheek and giggles when I blush. "But you're still my favorite."

"As are you, little Mordy."

"I'm hardly little," she crows, "right, Agatha?"

"Right," Agatha replies, blowing on her hands. "Simon, are we going inside anytime soon?"

I still want to show them the building where I aced my last final of the semester, I sort of made Quantum Physics my bitch, but I take pity on them. "Yeah, I'm hungry. Let's get a taxi and eat our weight in cupcakes."

"Real food first," Agatha warns, "Fiona said not to let you ruin her appetite or, and I quote, let her beautiful niece turn into a fatty mcfatpants like you."

"I'll remember that when I'm trying not to cry later today," I grimace, searching the streets to try and find a taxi. It's too cold for most people to be out though, so I figure we won't have to wait too long.

"Simon," we all turn at the sound of my name, Agatha's cheeks red and wind-bitten, and Mordelia fingers digging tight into my shoulders. Taylor jogs up to us, somehow sporting only a light jacket and a pair of jeans, oblivious to the cold. "Hey, where've you been hiding?" I try to think of the last time we hung out, but other than that night at the bar, I haven't seen much of him.

Seems a little strange that one of the reasons Baz and I imploded has kind of fallen to the back of my mind. And being friends with him shouldn't be much of a problem now that Baz and I are just friends too.

"I've had a lot to do," I smile, shuffling Mordy around so that she can't kick at my tail anymore. "My mate Penny just got married, so we've all been busy getting ready for that."

"Oh, yeah, Stacy mentioned that. Said she met someone, sounded like it was a good time."

"It was," Mordelia clears her throat loudly, and I roll my eyes.

"And who's this little cutie?"

"This is Mordy, and Agatha." Taylor leans forward, reaching out to pinch Mordy's cheek. He flinches and I think she might have bitten him.

"I have a brain you know, I'm not just here for you to look at," she says, her sweet, lilting voice heavy with disdain. I think she might have aged a few years in the months since we've been gone.

"Right," he shakes out his hand, his smile dimming. "Um, let's get a drink sometime, Simon?" He waits for me to nod before backing away slowly. "Looking forward to it." He flutters his fingers, winking as he turns.

"I don't like him," Mordy growls.

"Me neither," Agatha echoes, giving me a strange look. "We can discuss it some more once we don't have to worry about hypothermia."

"I think I can help with that," I take out my wand, squeezing Mordelia's ankle, and tap it to each of our arms before they can protest. "Hot As Balls!"

"Simon," Agatha admonishes, "out of the hundreds of spells you could have used, must you have chosen that one around little ears?"

"It did the job, didn't it?" Mordelia's bad mood from earlier disappears, and there's that giggle that always manages to lift my spirits. "Now we're nice and warm-"

"And hungry, Simon." Mordelia whines. "Fly us, please?"

Agatha nearly jumps away from us, shaking her head and sending blonde hair tossing. "Definitely not. I'll get us an uber."

Mordelia shimmies up so she can whisper, "no fun," in my ear. I suck in my lips so that Agatha won't hear my laugh.

"Didn't think I would be watching two children," Agatha huffs, flipping her hair just as a car pulls up to the curb. "Let's go."

"Absolutely no fun," I agree, slapping my palm against Mordelia's, dropping her onto the back seat and staring out the window as we drive away.

BAZ

"Actually call me every once in awhile," Fiona's got her arms wrapped around me so tight I can barely breathe, but I don't want her to let me go, so I hug her back just as tightly. Down by my legs, Mordelia sniffles, clinging to my knee and using my trousers to wipe her nose. "And maybe try to come home soon?"

"Well now that I'm confirmed in Mordy's schedule, I'll have to," I pat the top of her head, laughing as she slaps me away.

"I'm not a dog, Basilton," she says pitiably, "you can't pet me."

I crouch down and she throws herself at me. "I'll miss you too, you little brat."

"Next time you come home, make sure you bring Simon, okay?" My eyes go to Fiona's without my permission. She's watching me just as intensely as Mordelia, waiting for my answer.

"If he wants to come, he can," I decide, leaving it just vague enough to keep her from being disappointed. "Now, go on. You don't want to miss your flight."

Mordelia holds a hand out to Fiona, sighing unhappily as they begin their slow shuffle off to their gate. "Simon could fly us, and we wouldn't even have to pay for it."

"I know, sweet cheeks," Fiona says. "Hopefully he'll fly Baz out. There's nothing better than flying with the person you love." I don't know if she says it for Mordy's benefit, or my own. It still hits me just the same.

SIMON

With Penny gone, Agatha back in California, and Stacy doing who-knows-what with who-knows-who, I'm more than willing to hang out when Taylor calls. We make plans to head to a bar by school at the end of the week, and it's finally something to do.

"Snow," Baz shouts, letting himself into Penny's place, tons of plastic bags in hand. For some reason, everyone just assumes I won't be able to feed myself. And okay, I did finish the last of the cereal yesterday and was dreading what I would do today, but I'm an adult, I would have figured something out.

I spring up to him, smiling before I can stop myself. "What'd you bring?"

"Chinese takeaway for tonight," he waits for me to finish clapping, "and then the rest are just groceries. Fruits, vegetables," I groan and he laughs, "some ice cream."

"Wicked," I cry, lunging for the closest bag to me and rifling around. "You didn't have to get all of this."

He goes over to the kitchen and sets everything down. After tossing me a spoon, he starts unpacking the food. "Bunce would have my head if I let you starve." He opens the fridge, his lips ticking down into a frown. "Which you were apparently in danger of."

"I would have gone shopping," he raises an eyebrow and I shrug, "eventually," I add. Mm, Cherry Garcia. My favorite. "You want some?"

"Thanks, but I think I'll go have grown up food back at the flat."

"You can stay," I suggest around a mouthful of ice cream. "If you want."

He hesitates, his hand stilling on the last bag of frozen pastries. "I've got places to be," he says finally, "but I'm sure I can spare a minute or two."

I grin, wagging my spoon at him. "You give me three and I may even share my ice cream with you." He bends over the back of the couch, shooting me a look. "Fine, I won't be sharing any of my ice cream and you'll deal with it."

"Sounds about right," he falls into the chair, and it's the first time in forever that he doesn't wince away from me when he notices how close we are. "Pass that spoon, Snow, or I won't be held accountable for my actions."

I growl but it only makes him laugh, and he's snatching the cartoon from me and searching for bits of ice cream without cherry before I can stop him. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous today."

"Yes," he says wryly, "feeling quite generous with the ice cream I bought."

"No one cares who bought it as long as I claim eater's rights."

"Eater's rights?"

I nod, brushing at a wayward curl on my forehead. "Sort of like squatter's rights, but for food."

"You are a particular brand of idiot that's yet to be scientifically identified."

I lean into him, plucking the ice cream from his hands as his eyes widen. "You say the sweetest things to me."

"Did you just flirt with me so that you could steal back the ice cream?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

He shakes his head, sagging back into the couch and sulking. He can't keep it up though, the corners of his mouth quirking up every few seconds before he remembers to frown.

With the ice cream drooping down slightly, I consider him carefully. "Baz?"

"Yes, those few moments of silence were lovely," he murmurs, his eyes slipping shut, "why don't we keep it up?"

"Come on," I whine, "I have a question."

"Fine. Yes, Simon?"

"This is – this is good, right? You like being friends?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?" His head twists to me. It's not fair, how beautiful he is, especially now. His eyelashes curl against his cheeks, and his lips, Crowley, his lips, I don't think I've ever seen anything that soft. "Why do you ask?"

"I just – even if we're – even if we're not a we, I want to be in each other's lives. Like, forever. If that's alright with you."

"I suppose that won't kill me," he says, not even trying to hide his boredom. But his eyes flash open and they're bright and happy, although it might have been planned because the ice cream is out of my hand in seconds.

BAZ

He's breathing through his mouth. And his lips, pink and wet and probably sweet, are parted and just begging to be kissed. They'd be cold, and kissing a cold Simon Snow has been one of my favorite hobbies for a while. Fuck, it's my only hobby.

"I won't be buying you anymore ice cream."

His tongue peeks out, trailing along his bottom lip like we're in a damn porno. (And yet it would be inappropriate for me to plan the many different ways for me to make it so that neither of us can walk for a week. Doesn't seem right.) "Why?" He moans, and it goes straight to my crotch. It's an interesting thing, trying to decide if it's my heart or my dick that aches for him more. Right now, it's just about even.

"Because, as an adult, you should be able to purchase your own dessert."

"Whatever," he's got a pout in his voice, "I think your three minutes are over."

I pretend that I don't notice the way he slumps into me. I pretend that I don't love it. "But I'm comfortable."

"Not too comfortable I hope," he whispers, and his tail comes up to jam into my side. Yelping, I leap up and into his lap, my cheeks burning as his arms wrap around my waist and his forehead falls against my back, quaking with laughter.

"Merlin," I jump up, shaking away the feeling of his skin against mine, "not funny, Simon."

"I thought it was pretty hysterical," he says, feigning innocence. Trying not to tremble, I go over to my jacket and shove it on, too embarrassed to be annoyed and too annoyed to be embarrassed. "No Baz, stay."

"I said three minutes. It's been five."

"Come on, Baz. I'm sorry."

Jerking the door open, I throw a quick sneer over my shoulder. "Fuck off, Snow." I can still hear his damned laugh as I go down the stairs.

PENELOPE

"Just give me, like, half an hour," I plead, backing away from Micah as his gaze zeroes in on my phone. "Let me call Simon and then I'm all yours."

"You're already all mine," he says slowly, sending a flush rocketing up my neck. "And I'm not letting a damn phone take you away."

"But Micah," I whine, tilting my head in a way that I hope garners sympathy, "Simon is all alone, and he's very rarely ever all alone. I be daft not to worry."

"Simon," Micah says back with the same teasing whine in his voice, "isn't the one planning to do filthy, filthy, things to you on the beach, now is he?" Each word drips from his tongue in that dangerous way that reminds me that not all danger is bad. "Is he?" He repeats, his smile dark even with the patient way he waits.

I swallow hard, shaking my head as he takes step after step closer to me.

"No, he's not." He's close enough now to wrap his fingers around my wrist, stroking his thumb against my skin as he steals the phone away. "And who is?"

"You are?" There's a tremor in my voice, the fault of my hammering heart, trembling knees and the wave of want coming from everywhere he touches me.

He drops down, giving me a wicked look before he runs his nose over the exposed strip of skin between the top of my swimsuit bottoms and my shirt. "Once more for the kids in the back." His lips brush against the inside of my thigh and I nearly collapse.

"You are," I gasp, earning an approving hum.

"Now," he pops back up, pulling me flush against him, "who exactly did you need to call?"

He snogs me silly, wiping my mind of anything but him with the drag of his tongue against mine and the pull of my lip between his teeth. When he finally loosens his grip, I'm so dazed I can't even remember what day it is. "What?"

He laughs, burying his rough chuckle into the nape of my neck. "You were going to make a call earlier."

"That can wait," I nudge him away, my shoes already in hand as I throw the door open and start for the beach.

Even with my head start, he's behind me in seconds, his arms wrapping around my waist and his laugh in my ear as we go tumbling into the sand.

SIMON

"So, what happened to that guy you were dating, Bert?"

I scowl as Taylor takes a swig of his beer. "It's Baz, and we're not together anymore." Taylor lifts an eyebrow, and it's all wrong. "How'd you know something happened between Baz and me?"

"I think Stacy mentioned something or another," he says off-handedly, swiping a new beer over to me when I finish my own. "You dating again yet?"

"Why would I?" I frown, genuinely puzzled. My knee jiggles underneath the table. "It's only been…" Three months. Three months? Has it really only been three months since me and Baz kissed? Slept in the same bed? Woken up with my wing in his mouth and my tail around his ankle? Feels longer.

He laughs, eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's what people do when they're single. It's kind of the only cure to being alone."

"I mean, I guess I never really considered myself as single," I drag my finger along the rim of my glass. "Baz and I are still friends, he's still in my life."

"But he's not your boyfriend," Taylor reminds me. I'm sure he's trying to be helpful, but I wish he'd just shut up. "I could help you out, if you want?"

"Help me out?" There's something about this that doesn't feel right. I don't know; maybe it's just because the last time we were here my relationship basically ended. Negative memories and all that. "Like set me up with someone?"

"Something like that," he smiles, sliding his chair closer to mine. "Why don't we head over to my place?" He lowers his hand over mine, his expression faltering slightly when I jerk away.

"Wh – what?"

"I've got scotch, music, a bed. All the makings for a good night."

And I couldn't feel like a bigger git. Because Taylor, my friend, my great stand against some make believe oppressor, is smirking at me like I'm a done deal. Like I'll hop onto his lap, pants off and lubed up.

Agatha was right. Mordy was right.

Baz was right. Shit, Baz was right.

I thought I was protecting some new friendship. I thought I was finally putting my foot down, finally saying no to Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. And for what? For fucking what?

BAZ

I don't lock the door anymore, not with Stacy being as forgetful as she is. If I'm woken up one more time by her and Steph banging on the door, giggly and giddy and drunk, I'll drain them both. And then I'll have to feel bad about that, which I have absolutely no time for. I could handle my course load when it was all I had, but now with Simon and I being…whatever the fuck we are, I'm drowning. (And yet, I can't think of a time over these last few months when I've been happier.)

…

The first time Stacy asked why she could just let herself in now, she plopped up onto my bed, rested her chin on my thigh and waited patiently for me to speak. And I couldn't for the life of me recall why I'd hated her. She's so much like Mordelia, just older and louder and more cynical, that I feel her absence like an ache. (I don't think I can tell either girl how much I miss them. I'll die before I hear the end of it.)

"I could've been some pervert, you know." She said, smelling of tequila and strawberry lip-gloss. "What's the point of locks if you keep the door open?"

"You wake me up when you come stomping in here."

She poked at my calf. "I'm as light as a ballerina, I rarely ever stomp." She paused, slapping away a curtain of black hair from her cheek. "You having that dream again?" She asked softly. "The one about your mom?"

My head snapped up from my pillow, and she scampered back, her usual bravado dimming. "What do you know about that?"

"You say her name in your sleep. Kind of like you say Simon's. Sort of sad, but sweeter than I've ever heard you say to anyone when you're awake." She shrugged sheepishly, pushing at the sleeve of her shirt. "It's cold in the guest room. Sometimes it's nice to come in and hang here."

I didn't have it in me to yell at her, so I laid back and closed my eyes. "I'm trying to sleep, Stacy."

"Okay," the bed shifted as she got up, and she must not have taken off her shoes, because they echoed across the room. "Well, I'm here. If you ever want to talk."

…

I didn't. Not the first time she came in, or the second. But she kept coming, sometimes talking about her night, sometimes falling asleep curled against my side. And it's not until the tenth night, her sequined shirt rubbing against my hip and her head resting on my elbow, that I start talking.

About my mom, and the way I can almost see her now. She's fuzzy, but I can make out her rings, shinier than any diamond has the right to be. And how she always wants to talk about Simon. About how his hair isn't quite golden anymore, not since the dye. But it's still cotton candy soft, and curls in that same way, like it's made of nothing but sunshine and spun sugar. And how his laugh is ridiculous. No man should have a laugh like his, like Mozart and some terrible joke mixed together that only I can hear. About how you never know how much time you get until there's no more time, and then hair like spun sugar and laughter like music and a smile like sin and salvation won't matter.

She never interrupts, just listens to me talk and talk and talk until it's well into the night and my eyes sting when they're opened and burn when they're closed. And when I'm done, when every thought I've had since I kicked him out the apartment comes spilling out, she doesn't say a thing. (Stacy, residential loud mouth, rendered speechless. If I weren't so preoccupied, I would have taken the time to enjoy it.)

No, instead she stands and goes over to where I've got the rings hidden. She considers them, and then strokes her fingertip along the velvet box I bought when I couldn't help myself. "Get your fucking ass out of bed, and go get your boy."

"Stacy, it's-"

"Don't want to hear it," she waves a hand, silencing me. "I never thought you were stupid, but maybe you are because I know that you've done this with Penny and Steph and now me apparently."

"Excuse me?"

"Steph and Penny, little nice bitches that they are, probably tried to coddle you because of the 'tough time' you were having, but obviously you need some tough love. You can talk about just being Simon's friend, or being some self-sacrificing piece of shit, but I don't care. All I know is that you love Simon, Simon is hopeless for you, and listening to you two whine about one another is seriously boring."

"I'm being scolded by the girl an hour away from a hangover." Coffee. I need coffee. "Bloody extraordinary."

"Be snarky all you want," she rolls her eyes, "but you know I'm right. And the longer you dream of your mother's blessings for you and Simon, the more you hurt yourself. And the more you hurt him." She skips back over to me, pressing her lips to my forehead. "I'm off to bed, cousin and maybe you should sleep too. Help you with some major life decisions?"

"Get out, Stasia." She swings her hips, winking at me from over her shoulder. "And close my damned door."

That dark-haired devil woman's words spiral through my head, lilting and soft and so cloying that it sticks it in my throat.

She doesn't know anything about me and Simon, nothing. And this is me finally being the hero, saving Simon from the destruction that is Basilton Pitch.

But…maybe I don't need to be so noble. Simon Snow saved the fucking world, he gave up his magic so that the World of Mages would survive. He doesn't need saving, not by me, not by anyone.

I've ruined so much of our relationship already though. I'm the one who ended it. I'm the one who kicked him out, who didn't beg him back even though that's all I ever wanted.

But…when he leaned against me, when he wrapped his arms around me, when he smiled at me, it didn't feel like there was anything unsalvageable about our relationship.

"Fuck you, Stacy," I snarl, pushing up from the bed and getting the rings. "You wonderful pain in my arse."

I just hope it's not too late.

SIMON

"Si-" His arm snakes around my waist, and it's like sticking my hand on a burner. I yank away from him, just catching my balance before I tumble onto the floor.

"Don't," I growl. He says something, but I can't hear it over the sound of my heartbeat. It's racing past my ears, tormenting me to the steady pulse of Baz, Baz, Baz. "I thought we were friends."

"We are," he blinks, surprised by my reaction, "doesn't mean we can't be more, right?" He steps towards me, bright eyes glittering with confusion when I scramble away from him.

"Shit," I breathe, "leave me alone, okay Taylor? Don't text me, don't call me, don't ask Stacy about me." I shove a twenty at him, running out the door before he has the chance to reply.

I think about waving down a taxi, but I threw the last of my cash him when I left, and there's too much traffic anyway, it'll take too long. So instead, I take off running. And when I get to an empty stretch of road with clear sidewalks, I fly.

I collapse in front of his, our, building in a heap. "Shit," I hiss. I really need to keep in better shape if I'm going to be flying this much. I'm going to be bruised later, and not in the good way.

I mean, like, because of Baz.

Like, because I want to be.

How the hell can I talk to him with my thoughts all scattered?

Whatever, I'll figure it out.

I bound up the stairs, ignoring the elevator, and run to the door, giving my pockets a few pats as I search for a key. And then I consider kicking down the door. Baz'll be pissed but I can make it up to him.

But before I can, because fate is on my side, the door opens and Baz appears, staring at the ground as he shoves something into his jacket pocket and whistling to himself.

"Baz," I scream, and he startles, his head darting up and a quick gasp ripping through his throat. "Sorry," I lower my voice, "didn't mean to yell. Baz," I try again, at a whisper.

"Snow," he says slowly, his face pinching with confusion. "I was just coming to see you. I wanted to – "

"Can it wait?" I ask quickly, pushing past him and over to the couch. He follows after me, and I can tell he's got that little frown on his face when he's trying to act as if knows what's happening. "There's something I need to say, and if I don't say it right now then I'll never say it. Sit," I gesture wildly to the couch, bouncing impatiently as he inches towards the seat closest to me. "Quickly, please."

"What's this about?" Crossing one leg over the other, he watches me while he sucks on his fangs.

"Okay," I can't stand still, not with him ogling me, so I begin to pace, long strides in front of the television. "So, I had drinks with Taylor, right? And, like, don't jump to any conclusions or anything, all right? So, yeah, we were there and he tried to hit on me. And it got me thinking about what I said, and how all of this shit started between us. And I – "

"Jesus, Simon, the point. I'm going to need it soon."

"I was wrong." I cry, combing my fingers through my hair. "About it all. I don't know how I got it so wrong, but I did." With it out there, I feel myself deflating, that urgency from earlier disappearing as the urge to cry takes its place.

Baz stands, chewing on his bottom lip. I'd appreciate it on any other day, him trying to stay quiet so I can get everything out, but Crowley, it's distracting. "Look," I sigh, "it always felt like I had no control in anything. With my magic, or the Mage, I'd only have two terrible choices, to fight or to die, but everyone acted like it was all in my hands. And then we kissed, and suddenly I had this great third option. And it felt like no matter what I lost, or how confused I was about everything else in my life, this was good. This was the only thing that felt right.

"And then we got here and it started to feel like I only had two shit choices again. Lose you or change everything. And it was all happening so fast and I panicked. And I blamed you. And you, being the stubborn git you are, just made it so much harder. And that was all well and good when we both sort of hated each other, but now, with you buying me food and being my friend, it's not enough."

"Simon – "

"I don't want to be your friend, Baz. I don't want to make small talk and share taxis and talk to you about my next boyfriend. I want you and I want us, and I want us to be so loved up that you won't even be mad that Taylor is probably gay and that you were right, and that I'm an idiot."

"Simon – "

"And I get it now, you weren't trying to control me. You were just trying to protect me in some stupid, jealous way. And I love you even more for it, because somehow, someone as smart as you loves someone like me. Or at least, you used to."

"Aleister, Simon – "

"So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. All the angst and shit, it was all my fault. And even if you don't feel that way about me anymore, I just wanted you to know."

He arches an eyebrow, gliding over to me. "You done?"

"Yeah," I gulp, "that was about it."

"Wonderful," he snarls, latching on tight to my arms and driving me back against the wall. "Before you spent the last ten minutes of my life rambling, I was going to tell you that I didn't want to spend another second away from you."

I gawk at him, grasping for words and finding none.

"No response?" He asks, cocking his head to the side. "After that lovely speech of yours, I just assumed you were feeling chatty."

"You're a bastard," I growl back, surging forward and smashing my mouth against his. And somehow I manage to catch him by surprise, mid-sneer. And I concentrate on that feeling of triumph for all of five seconds before I focus on the most important thing to ever happen.

I'm kissing Baz.

I'm kissing Baz.

And it feels as if I was dying before and he's brought me back to life. Like he's coursing through me like a painkiller, chasing away the last three months of hurt. Like the world was tilted on it's axis and his lips righted it all.

I can't think of any other way to describe it, how he feels. I'll just do that later, I guess.

"Oh Merlin," he murmurs between kisses, "you're so fucking cute. Marching in here and talking a mile a minute and, God."

"I'm not cute," I frown, tightening my hold on his hips. I could die holding his hips, and I'd be perfectly fucking content. "I'm hot."

"So hot," he laughs, sucking hard on my neck. Crowley, Arthur, Morgan and Merlin too. "Fucking hot."

"And funny."

He pulls back slightly, his eyebrows raised. And I'm nearly catatonic with glee because this time when I think of kissing them, I can. "The funniest."

"But never cute." I fist my hands in his hair and pull. "Hot, and funny, and sexy, don't forget sexy. But never cute."

"Simon," I yelp when he heaves me over his shoulder, "you're fucking adorable. Deal with it." I think of arguing, but then we're in the bedroom and he's slamming me down on the bed and there's not much room left for thinking.