Simonbaz: "Simon Saves Baz"

Chapter 1

Simon:

Penny and Agatha leave in a huff, and I let them. Sigh. Agatha's my girlfriend… she's beautiful and I'm lucky to have her… and of course Penny is my best friend… the one who basically saved my ass since I came to Watford. So it's not a good day when they're both annoyed with me.

But this year it's like the old chemistry between us isn't working. I used to have a clear sense of right and wrong, and they fit into it. "Right" was me and the Mage and "wrong" was Baz and the humdrum. We had friend goals (figure out what Baz is up to next), and pastimes (follow Baz around and foil him).

But nothing's working this year. For one, Baz isn't even around; he missed the first few weeks of school and for all we know he isn't coming back. And that bothers me because he's always up to something, and how am I supposed to figure out what that is when he's not here? Also, how do I keep my mind from going back to the last time I saw him, which was more or less the night in the graveyard… when he and Agatha were holding hands?

I was too far away to see the look on their faces or hear what they said, but whatever it was it wasn't small talk. And Agatha's never mentioned it. Which makes me stew, though I have no fucking intention of asking HER about it. I trust her. That said, trusting her doesn't mean I can block my head from picturing Baz across from me, lording her silence over me. "Not the brightest star in the sky, are you, Snow?" His face is always unreadable, and his silky bastard voice is in my head: "You know what it means."

I want to punch him, but he's not really here and I can't afford to go red, so I just shake off the image.

I'M the one who's got the girl. I'M the one who's going to prove that Baz is a vampire. I'm the one who's going to help the Mage save the magikal world from HIM and the Humdrum.

Still. What a punch-in-the-gut scene of theirs, out in the garden. Holding hands for some dark purpose of Baz's. It was a whole summer ago, and Agatha's still my girl. But what the fuck.

To be honest, I'm not sure why the holding hands part gets under my skin so much, aside from the obvious. I've had plenty of time to be alone with Agatha and hold her hands—before then and since then. Half the time we don't even bother. We're not that kind of couple, fawning all over each other. We're classy like that.

Which is maybe what gave Baz his opening. Could be she wants some hand-holding, some jealousy and danger. Sigh. If the chance of seeing her in a romantic situation with someone else gets me more worked up than trying to make sure losing her never really happens, I am officially the magikal world's shittiest boyfriend. But there it is.

So basically: thoughts get me nowhere. At least I am aware of that. I'm a practical guy; ask Penny. Not known for my deep thoughts. Trying to outline Agatha and Baz's seriously blurry edges without her (Penny) talking me through it will never happen.

That said, I am seriously the only one around here who makes any frickin' sense.

"Because you don't know yourself, Simon Snow."

Frickin' voices in my head.

Baz:

Simon Snow has the complexity of an avalanche.

Simon:

Piss off.

I don't know what makes me do it, but I get up like the voice in my head is a real thing, and I can avoid it by walking away. I am standing by the mirror on my side of the room and I look at myself. There's curly hair (hopeless) and an Adam's apple and all my complexion issues… just general awkwardness. But I keep looking, as if staring long enough will show me something else.

I say "Mirror, mirror on the wall."

From the heart. I say it from the heart. And since I have the room to myself and why the hell not, I go ahead and finish it like it's a fucking spell. "Who's the fairest of them all?"

Baz:

How long have I been here? Weeks-? Months-?

The Numpties have locked me in a coffin. Which is fine for a fitful, restless sleep, I suppose, but terrible for waking up inside (basically, the coffin is terrible for absolutely everything). I know this is not forever… the Numpties have told me as much, though I have no idea what it is they're up to. At any rate, their motivations are irrelevant because Fiona will find me soon. But meanwhile I'm… not enjoying myself. It's dusty and black and soundless down here and the time inside my own head is killing me.

What I wouldn't do for a good raw steak and sifter of brandy-! Or my violin. Hell, I'd even take Snow spying on me from across the classroom like some kind of amateur private detective…

The term's started by now. And everybody's going through their nasty, silly business. Snow's undoubtedly munching on something tasty. Crunching and mouth-breathing his way through a bag of chips on MY side of the room, most likely. Crumbs everywhere.

Gads. I've been thinking about him almost obsessively while locked up here. Ridiculous and pointless—but it does pass the time.

Because for a clueless, paranoid git, he's remarkably beautiful. I've been aware of that for several years, now. Golden-haired and pure-hearted and always looking at me. Which is not easy to ignore and rather provoking. How many times have I wanted to swoop across the room and pin him down to his bed. Bear my fangs and proceed to kiss the stupid stare off his face. Feel him squirm beneath me. My hips coming down to grind on him. That would be a thing to look at…

I let that thought follow its natural conclusions as I absently take note of a shimmering light off in the distance. I close my eyes and it goes away. I open my eyes and I see it.

Am I losing my mind? I'm in a fucking coffin. There can't be a light in here.

Simon:

The mirror glitters. Moving haloes come together and take shape. I see a face.

At first I can't make it out; it's too dark. Definitely not Agatha. The face is pale, but there's this longish dark hair all around it, blowing, like. And longer lashes than she has, over this perfect straight nose and a pair of shut lips. The cheekbones, the proportions on the face are like a statue… very posh. I think it's a man.

I know this face…

Woosh. A rush of magical energy shoots through me as the eyes in the mirror open. I look full into their gray intensity.

Baz-!

Baz. I should be pissed as hell. It should be like the evil stepmother in Snow White when she tries to find herself in the magic mirror and instead sees beautiful fucking Snow White. I should be like "Get out of my fucking mirror, vampire!"

But I'm not. Instead, my mouth falls open. I'm amazed, I'm excited, and I can't look away. It's freaking cool.

I don't know why I'm seeing him in the first place, but this IS Baz. And it's Baz like I've never been able to see him before. Baz without context… just face. I don't have to worry about what he's up to or is he about to bite my neck or what crushing thing will he say when he finds me looking his way. It's Baz without any consequences.

And he's so easy to look at. There is NOTHING wrong with his face. If magic mirrors are a real thing, then hell yes, he belongs in one of them. I mean, I said "fairest of them all", and he's that.

I didn't realize the extent to which I considered Baz good-looking till this moment. I kid myself that I'm just observing a fact, a neutral fact like I'm some kind of scientist… lol. But that turns into realizing that Baz's hotness is a thing for me. My face gets real hot. I am definitely blushing.

Baz:

The light before me gets brighter and larger, till it's all I see. It's blurry at first, but shapes and colors start to form patterns and I find I can focus. I see a face.

Snow?

Simon:

Unreal. We look at each other for, like, a minute before he blinks. And that blink is enough to wake me up. This isn't just a picture, it's HIM, somehow. Which is VERY freaky but also worrisome because his face is drawn and pinched. He looks uncomfortable, like he's in pain or can't stand up or something. There's this frown between his eyes and he's even more pale than usual. Wherever he is, it's dark. I can't make it out but his head seems to be pressed down onto a shiny pillow? Where the hell is he?

Without thinking, I pick up my sword. "Luminos!" I say. (Was that me? Did I just quote Harry Potter?).

Doesn't matter. It works.

I pull the sword closer to the mirror and it glows for me, like a torch. It shines onto Baz's face in the mirror and I see he's in a box covered with fabric… a coffin- ?

"Baz!" I cry.

He winces; he closes his eyes. Then he SPEAKS. "Oh good lord. That's it. I'm officially insane."

"Baz; can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you. It turns out I'm remarkably good at hearing audio-hallucinations. Who knew?"

"Baz, where are you? Are you trapped somewhere?"

"Yes. I can hardly move." And then he adds. "I think I'm in the catacombs."

"Omigod… can I help you out?"

"Yes, please. The numpty idea of a vampire life really, really sucks. I think I imagined a bit more for myself." He paused. "I guess I've officially lost my mind, now that I'm talking to you. Oh dear."

But he continues looking at me. "Still. Don't go away. I haven't had anything to look at in weeks. And you're so fucking beautiful, Snow. Crowley."

"We're getting you out. I'm going to find Penny."

"I just told you NOT to leave! God-! I've been so alone; you have to stay."

I shake my head. What is happening here? This can't be real, but my instincts tell me it is… Waterford is a very magical place and stranger things have happened here. But is it possible we are REALLY talking to each other through a magical two-way mirror?

If so, he just told me I'm fucking beautiful.

And I find that interesting.

"Baz, I said 'Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all." And now I see YOU. Is there any way this is really you? And WHY am I seeing you? Are we both each other's idea of 'fairest of them all'? I mean what the fuck, Baz. Help me out, here."

"I think if anyone helps anyone out here, Snow, it's going to have to be you. I'm in a fucking coffin."

"I don't know where you are and we'll take a search party down to the catacombs, if that's what it takes. But maybe I can do something faster with my magic."

"Like blow me up into a thousand pieces, Snow? You're not known for your magical subtlety. But then, if this is all in my head that literally doesn't matter. On second thought, do it. An explosion would be a nice change of pace."

Normally I would have bristled back at him for saying, annoyingly, that my magic is not under control. I am a student, after all; still learning. But this time I stay on point. I go back to talking through the situation, as Penny would. "Baz, whatever's going on… my magic is working better than ever today. I'm doing spells without the sword. I'm doing original work. I mean… this mirror spell is THE BOMB."

"Well, if you accidentally spell me into a thousand different pieces, it will hardly matter. At least I'd be out of the coffin. So carry on, Great Wizard."

I narrow my eyes a little, as I think I detect a tone. But there's no time to worry about it.

"Okay, then. Okay." I breathe in. I am the Mage's apprentice.

"Any day now, Snow."

"Prick-! You can't rush greatness."

"Or you, apparently."

"Look, do you want me to save you-? Shouldn't you be building my confidence up here a little?"

His eyes soften a little. "You're the man, Simon Snow."

For some reason, hearing Baz say those words is AMAZING. I puff up a little and I know what to do… but it's kind of a ginormous thing.

"You're going to have to trust me on this, Baz. I'm the Mage's heir, you know, so these are serious magical instincts, you know? In ways that are mysterious to us." I exhale.

He cocks an eyebrow at me "I'm intrigued."

I nod solemnly, but I'm blushing.

"I mean, it's like a fricking math problem. We look at our situation. All we have right now are faces, right? Your face and my face. About two inches apart."

"Yes…"

"I think we have to kiss."

Baz sputters. "What-?"

"It's the only way, Baz. We are literally two faces right now. Talking isn't doing anything. The wizard in me is telling me there has to be some physical contact."

"Sounds like serious magic."

"Trust me on this, Baz. It's going to work."

"I defer to your magical acumen."

Okay. So. We're that far. Now I rack my head for the relevant phrase that's going to knock this whole thing out of the ball park. I settle on it, but it stalls in my mouth. I feel inexplicably shy.

"Love's first kiss," I think. Out loud I say, "Baz, come closer. I'm going to need your participation, here."

"At your service."

Somehow I get the words out… I say them out loud. "Love's first kiss." Then I tilt my head slightly and look down from Baz's gray eyes (they open wider) to his soft pouty mouth (it opens slightly, too).

He closes his eyes and leans forward. I do the same. First there is a pane of glass between us… but then there isn't. My lips are on Baz, and his lips are cool but not unpleasant. I brush them; I attach myself to them. I like the feeling; I am moving my chin back and forth because I want to extract as much contact as possible from this kiss. He's still at first, but after the initial surprise he's all in. He's moaning and kissing me back with a healthy amount of enthusiasm… way more than I expected. I find that exciting. I'm a good kisser-! I mean… I'm a good WIZARD.

We really get into our work, you know?

Shut up, Simon. Quit acting like an ass. This kiss is more real than anything you ever had with Agatha.

Baz:

Best. Damn. Daydream. Ever.

The numpties should kidnap me more often.

Simon:

I LOVE this feeling of kissing Baz. It's like we fit together. And when we're like this, there's no way he can throw shade at me or run away. It's just us.

Suddenly there is a crack in the darkness and white light spills out. It's all around me and it's all around Baz. We aren't just faces anymore; we are bodies, floating together in the same space, while the air crackles with energy. I reach out and bump his hand… his hand! I grab for more of him and find his biceps… they're hard and I love it. He has a body now, and so do I. I can press my hips into his. In fact, I am doing that right now. He gasps and lets me grind on him. The whole experience gets exponentially hotter.

Which means I'm gay. Huh. I did NOT see that coming.

We open our eyes and pull apart. "Omigod, Snow," he whispers. "Oh my fucking god-!"

"Call me Simon? I mean, come on. I am saving your ass."

"You are holding my ass."

"Please say Simon."

For Baz, this seems to make an impression. He cocks an eyebrow at me and there is a twitch of the lip, but his eyes are gentle. "Simon, then." He reaches over and touches the side of my face. I think I'm going to explode with the tenderness of it.

"I must be dead. This is heaven," he sighs. "So many unusual details, though, like your hard on. Not what I expected."

"Uh… you're not dead till I say you're dead. I think I'm going to need your continued participation for quite awhile, in this particular area of my magical studies. So we ARE going home."

"If we go home, will there be more of this?"

"My desire to learn is strong."

"You promise you won't hate me again? I'm pretty sure that was hatred I was feeling before."

"I don't think I have it in me to hate you anymore, Baz, now that I've held your face in my hands."

He smiled at me… shyly? "Really?"

"Yes, sexy vampire man."

"Then I hear and obey, beautiful hallucination," he reaches over and traces a finger down my jaw and to cup my chin. "I am ready to go wherever you want me to go."

I lean forward and press my forehead against his. I whisper sharply, "There's no place like home, Baz." Our lips lock again.

Woosh…silence & boom.

And just like that he's on his bed and I'm on mine. We are back in our dorm room. We lay there, ten feet apart, like a tornado just plopped us down. We are wind-blown and wild-eyed and crazy. Well, of the two of us, and maybe for the first time ever, I think BAZ probably looks the crazier… cobwebs in his hair, dark bags under his eyes… filth (definitely not cedar and bergamot I'm smelling, now that we're back in the physical world).

What a way to get over my funk. What a dreamy adventure. Sigh. I did it-! I let myself savor the afterglow without thinking about further implications for any of this. Penny can explain it all to me later. But for now it is relief and FREEDOM. Baz stretches his long body out like it's the best feeling ever, being free, across from me, back in our own room. And I'm proud: I came through for my man. With my fucking magical powers, bitch.

Lol. Things will never be the same again when the world is this fucking BEAUTIFUL.

The moment is interrupted by a shy knocking at the door and a whispered "Simon? It's Agatha."

Baz and I just look at each other.

Agatha, who?