Chapter Twelve
Simon
We've got time to kill before Damien shows up. Fifteen minutes or so. Baz is walking in tight little circles around the parking lot. Rain stamps his clothes to his body.
"Baz," I say. "Sit down. You're driving me crazy."
He looks at me. "I'll have my wand out. The whole time. If he so much as touches you-I don't care. He'll burn."
"Crowley, you're psychotic. Come here."
He does. And he's stubbly and worried and cute, and I can't help it. I kiss him right there in the drenched parking lot, where anyone can see.
I mean, I'm already out to Watford. I'm already out to all my closest friends. Why not be out to the rest of London, too?
"I love it when you call me psychotic," Baz says, and he trails his fingers across the base of my tail.
"I love it when you do that," I mumble into his neck.
He slides the length of my tail through his hands, and then hooks his fingers in the waistband of my jeans. "What-that?"
I feel like it would be going too far to tell him how I feel when he does that. Baz already thinks I'm a total nut.
"Or that?" he continues, settling his grip around my hip bones.
"Um…"
He kisses me on the nose. There's a scandalized woman whispering to her husband about three yards away, but Baz takes no heed. He leans his forehead against mine and draws his tongue ever so gently across my lips.
"Or that," he whispers. Not a question.
I'm just about to reconsider and tell him exactly what I think about all that, but before I can, there's a tap on my shoulder. From the way Baz's eyes narrow, I'm guessing it's not anyone I'm desperate to see.
"Excuse me?" says a high-pitched voice.
I turn. It's the woman who was whispering to her husband. She's clutching her purse to her chest like we're about to steal it, and staring Baz down defiantly. Her hair falls in rain-soaked corkscrews.
"Yes?" Baz says.
"You and your...partner. You're making me uncomfortable."
"Well, that's bloody unfortunate," he says.
The woman scowls. "God hates sinners."
"I was a sinner from day one," Baz volunteers. Icily.
"There's still time to change."
Baz sneers. "I don't think so. We're in love, you see."
Her lips go all twitchy and disapproving. "Could you move yourselves to another part of the park?"
In answer, Baz grabs me and kisses me on the lips. Hard. The kind of kiss he gives me when we're alone.
"You're going to hell," the woman says, over the noise of our kiss.
Baz breaks it just long enough to say, "I've heard it's lovely there. Why don't you come, too?"
