Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated in forever. School has been crazy and I haven't had a chance.

Am I really kissing him?

Yes.

Crowley.

I'm kissing my roommate.

I'm kissing a vampire.

I'm kissing Baz.

Fuck.

I don't realize I've said it aloud. Baz pulls away immediately and stares at me. I can't tell what he's thinking - he looks horrified yet relieved? Maybe even . . . happy? Is that possible? Can Baz physically be happy?

"Fuck is right, Snow," Baz whispers, still staring at me. I can't find the courage to rip my gaze from his. But he can. He turns away and heads over to his dresser. He rifles through a drawer and shrugs a shirt over his head. "That was funny, Snow. Real funny."

"Huh?"

"That prank I just played on you," Baz murmurs, though his hearts not in it. I can see right through the lie, but play along anyway. "I figured, since you got to kiss me - well, give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation - I should return the favor. Just so you can see how it feels."

He sits down on his bed, knotting a clean tie around his neck. "Yeah. Right. Funny," I mutter, still standing, staring at him.

"Stop looking at me, Snow," he sneers, pulling the tie taught.

"What the fuck, Baz?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Are you seriously going to play this off as some stupid prank?"

"Well, I do have to admit it didn't go exactly as planned. See, I assumed you would pull away immediately. I didn't know you'd actually enjoy the kiss. Snow, do you like me? Is that was this is about? You have a little crush, don't you?" he teases. But I know it's all a façade. His eyes aren't sparkling with menace like they usually do.

"Shut up, Baz. You're not fooling anyone."

He doesn't reply but opens a book, leans back on his pillows, and starts reading. I let out a frustrated sigh. He can't be joking, right? That kiss . . . it was real. I felt it. It wasn't a joke; Baz kissed me. And he wanted to kiss me. I know he did.

"Fine. If that's how you're going to act, so be it," I smirk. I methodically stand just inside his peripheral vision and peel my shirt off, taking my time. I shake out my wet hair and stretch my back. I'm not muscular by any means, but I have a pretty decent body. It should be enough to distract Baz.

But no. He flips another page.

Maybe he was joking, and I'm being stupid. And narcissistic. And . . . Crowley, am I really trying to get Basilton Grimm-Pitch to fawn over me? Why do I even care? It's not like I like him. At all. And the kiss was shit. Absolute shit. Why would I ever be attracted to Baz? The idea is preposterous.

Still, a hint of warmth flickers inside of me, urging me to step closer. I do.

I walk towards the bed and sit down at the foot of it, shifting Baz's legs aside to make room. He doesn't even flinch.

"So, Baz, are you feeling okay? Need some water? Food? Anything?" I ask, trying to pretend I'm just doing my job.

Baz's eyes remain trained on the page, though I see his brow furrow.

"Come on, Pitch. I'm just trying to do my job and make sure you're okay. You don't feel faint, right? Here, let me check your pulse," I say, reaching out for his wrist. He bats my hand away and keeps reading, though I can see the desire to look away from the words rising inside of him. I've almost got him.

"I just want to make sure you're breathing alright," I say, scooting just a tad bit closer. He breathes in deeply and exhales. I'm about to turn away, thinking I've lost - that it was a prank and I've completely embarrassed myself in front of my creepy roommate - when he slams the book down and grabs at me.

His lips reach mine and I'm fire. His hands graze my bare chest and mine dance across his. He pulls on strands of my hair and I arch my back in pleasure. The kiss deepens and he pulls me closer, so that we're on our knees, pressed against each other. I can feel him against me; every single inch of him.

"Crowley," he whispers as his lips leave mine and we press our foreheads against each other. "Is this real?"

"I think so," I murmur, dragging my hand across his chest and letting it rest around his neck. We breathe against each other, trying to catch our breaths. Our eyes don't meet.

I pinch him.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For fucking with me," I say, immediately rubbing the spot in an attempt to soothe him.

"I'm sorry, Simon," he whispers, now flicking his eyes up to meet mine. They're stark and bright, full of so much despair and pain and intensity. "I didn't . . . I thought you wouldn't . . . I tried to cover for kissing you. It was stupid, but I just didn't expect you to, uh, respond like this."

"Neither did I," I laugh. I place a gentle kiss on his nose and he smiles bashfully. "I didn't realize I felt like this until-"

"Until you were forced to give me CPR? Yeah, I know," Baz blushes.

"No, I think . . . I think i knew it beforehand. I just never wanted to admit it.

"Yeah," he whispers. We stare at each other for a long moment.

"How long have-"

"Since 5th year."

"Oh."

Neither of us speaks for a while. Baz leans back and lays down. He pulls his blanket up around him and turns on the side.

"Simon?"

"Yes?'

"Can we just . . . sleep?" he asks. His voice is quiet and soft and shy and I love it. The intimidation, the menace, the sarcasm is gone. He's just Baz.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," I whisper. I crawl beside him and slip under the covers. For a long moment I don't know how to lay down, but then I press myself against Baz's back, curling against him. I wrap my arm around his chest and he clasps it gently.

"Hit the lights" Baz whispers and the lights flicker off, leaving us both in darkness.

And we sleep.