#coc2019

In the midst of all the Manu stuff, I decided it would be fun to do a “glow-up” of last year’s Snowbaz Holiday pic, and MAN does a year make a difference. Lol

This time they’re finding a little alone time on the chilly grounds of Pitch Manor. (Does that make this qualify for today’s Carry On Countdown prompt, “frost”?)

Day 06

today’s carry on countdown prompt is “endearment terms”

I really love Simon :3

Ps. Drawing not mine

Carry On Countdown Day 28

Pairing: Snowbaz

Length: 624 words

Genre: fluff, mild angst(?)

-

BAZ

It’s far too cold for me to be out here, but Simon insisted we see the snow as soon as he noticed the frost on his bedroom window. He’s just standing staring up at the flakes lazily floating down. 

He was so excited his coat isn’t even zipped. There’s specks of white in his lashes and melting on his tongue. Yes, he’s sticking his tongue out in attempt to catch as many snowflakes as possible. It’s ridiculous. The way my dead heart melts at the sight is ridiculous.

I’m just staring at him. Standing a little behind, wrapped in my heavy black coat and scarf and hat and gloves; I’m still cold. But I think I’d freeze for him. 

Watching your boyfriend watch it snow on the sidewalk outside his flat might be boring to most, but it’s lovely. It’s nice when you have time to waste watching snow fall. He’s been through a lot, too much; he deserves to rest for a while. 

After California and the second Watford disaster, life for the past few months has felt like an epilogue. We’ve circled back to Snow’s London flat.

It sounds dull, but, I never expected to get an epilogue. My story was supposed to end after Watford. I’m still wrapping my head around living past my teens, and living those years with Snow.

Our story hasn’t ended yet. We’re still pretty bad at all this, but I think now, with Simon back in therapy and both of us making an effort to communicate, we’re getting better. 

I step closer to his side and ask to hold his hand. Because I want to. He takes my gloved hand and I can feel his warmth through the layers of cloth between us. 

I give him a look, asking if this is okay. I had so much shame around asking for things I wanted or asking Snow what he wanted. I used to think if we really loved each other we wouldn’t have to ask; we’d just know what to do. I’ve learned that’s now how people work. That isn’t how this relationship works.

SIMON

I let him know I’m fine by squeezing his hand. I’ve never been good with words. My therapist tells me neglect in childhood can affect someone’s language development and that I should be kind to myself for needing time. She also said I can use nonverbal cues when I feel like talking is too much. It’s taken time and effort, but Baz is starting to learn what I mean when I squeeze his hand or poke his side or hum after he does something. 

I’m trying to learn to give Baz what he wants. I want to give him everything, the whole universe, but I’m so scared of giving him myself. I know he’d never push me, but he deserves all he wants and more. And I want things too. That’s new for me, the strong desire for romance.

I rest my head on Baz’s shoulder and hum. He kisses the top of my head, his lips almost as cold as the air. I love being close to him. Though we haven’t had sex yet. I blush at just the thought of it. We’ve come close. We’ve done so many things close to sex without me freaking out like the first time but, I have to work on myself some more before I’ll be ready. 

I never had to try this much with Aggie. But I think that’s because neither of us cared too much. It’s not easy with Baz. It’s working though. We are working together, and that matters more than it being easy. 

Carry On Countdown 2019

Day 6 - Vine/Meme Reference

December 9-Floral

Smoke and Roses

Summary: Simon visits Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s grave

The silence is almost deafening. I feel every echo of my own breath. It catches when I reach the stone door, and I hold it for a moment before letting it out in relief. I’ve been wandering in here for two hours, and the map I copied from the archives really wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped it would be. It’s been years since I’ve been here, actually about five to be exact. It’s still just as creepy as it was then, and I try not to shudder at the row of skulls leading up to the tomb. I know I’ve reached it, even though I’ve never been here before. It’s the largest tomb I’ve seen so far, with a row of skulls and a huge bronze plaque with bold scrawling text.

Natasha Grimm-Pitch

April 4, 1962-August 12, 2002

“Er, hi. It’s good to meet you again,” I start.

The silence greets me, and I take a deep breath before continuing.

“Do you remember me? You came looking for him and you found me instead. Sorry ‘bout that. He wanted to be there when you came. He was so upset to have missed you. It was the first time I ever realized he was capable of anything like that I guess. Anything that wasn’t fighting, or plotting. Or snarling.”

There are dead flowers around the plaque, strewn about and withered with time. Baz and his family come here sometimes to talk to her and leave flowers. I know it must have been a little while since anyone’s been here though, since none of the flowers have any color left in them.

“Anyway. I came here to talk to you about him. And to ask you something. Well I guess, tell you something is a bit better-since I don’t guess I’m going to get an answer from you directly.”

The plaque stares back at me. I can see a distorted type of my own reflection in it. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. If Natasha Grimm-Pitch were still alive, would I be able to say this to her face? I’m not the best with words. She’d probably think I was an idiot. But then again, Baz thinks I’m an idiot and things have worked out alright there.

“First I want to tell you that Baz is doing incredible. He’s so brilliant, Mrs. Pitch. It’s like you gave birth to some kind of genius super fit super…awesome bloke. I wish there was a better way for me to say it, like I wish I had the words to do him the credit he deserves. He’s good at literally anything he tries, and not just good-he’s top of everything. He’s graduating early from Uni with a degree in Linguistics and Political Science, and he’s going directly to apply for a PhD program at Cambridge University. I’m sure he’ll be accepted. He’s graduating first class too. You would have been so proud of him.”

I’m finding my voice now. It’s easy to talk about Baz, it’s the thing we have in common here. He’s my favorite subject. Even when we were enemies, I could talk about him for hours.

“He’s the center of my universe, Mrs. Pitch. I don’t know if you knew that, or if you’re able to see what’s going on down here, if you can watch us or whatever. But I want you to know that I’m in love with him.”

What if she could see everything? What if she was watching us and she saw everything that we did? What would she think? Oh fuck, what if she saw us when we were alone? The thought of Natasha Grimm-Pitch watching me shag her son from beyond the veil is enough to make my stomach do a few flips. I swallow and continue.

“I am sure you know what he is. I mean, even if you can’t see everything. You saw him get bitten before you…died. I’m sure you know, and if you can hear me now you’ve heard him down here before.”

I take a look around me. There are a few small piles of mostly disintegrated rat bones, a few patches that have become a part of the ground here. I imagine Baz at 15, draining rats and talking to his mother’s tomb. I imagine him after our fights. He says he thought about for years while we are Watford. Did he think about me down here?

“Anyway, I want you to know that he’s good. I know he’s a dark creature, but he’s more than good. His heart is so full and he’s so alive. Even when he says he’s not. He’s not just good looking and smart, he’s good. And he’s everything you’d want him to be and more.”

Baz told me once that his mother would have killed him before letting him live life as a vampire. I try to imagine my life without Baz having been in it at all. What if I had a different roommate at Watford and hadn’t had Baz to row with at all? Baz is the one who solved everything. I probably would have kept sucking all the magic out of the world until there was nothing left at all if it hadn’t been for him. I don’t want to think about it.

“Anyways, Mrs. Pitch. I’ve just got a few things left to say before I leave you. I’ve come to bring you flowers. I picked ‘em out myself, Baz doesn’t even know I’m here at all yet. I’m going to tell him after. I’ve brought you flowers, and I want to tell you that I love your son. I might not be good enough for him, but I don’t think there is such a thing as good enough anymore. I’m always going to love him, and I want to show him that I’m not going anywhere.”

I reach into my bag and pull out a small box. I’m holding it now in front of the bronze plaque, I can actually hear my heart beating in the silence of the catacombs.

“I want to marry him, and I’ve come to ask you if it’s alright. To get your blessing. I know you can’t say anything back to me, but it felt right to come and speak to you.”

I brush the flowers gently and smile. It was worth the 2 hours wandering in the dark with all the rats and bones. It’s worth it because it’s for him. I take the box back and stuff it in my messenger bag. I’m grinning now, and it feels right.

“Anyway, I want to say thank you Mrs. Pitch. Thank you for raising Baz, and thank you for saving him. I’ll take care of him. I know that I might not be enough for him. But I’m here to let you know that I’m going to make myself be enough. I’m going to be everything that I can be for him, even when I don’t have anything left to give. It might not be enough and it might not be what he deserves. But it’ll be all of me, cuz that’s all that I can give. I hope you give us your blessing.”

I get to my feet and swing the bag over my shoulder. I’ve just started to walk away when something catches the corner of my eye. The dead flowers around the tomb are starting to bloom. There are at least seven or eight bunches of them, and they’re coming to life. They’re glowing with life and in a way, they’re just glowing. It’s not just the flowers now, its like the entire room is glowing. I can feel it prickling my skin and filling my nostrils, smoky and strong. Magic. I haven’t been able to feel magic at all in three years, but its unmistakable. Steaming magic with deep sultry undertones, hot and clean. I close my eyes and inhale, long and deep. It lingers, then slowly fades, leaving the flowers. They’ve all blossomed now, as if they were plucked from the ground minutes ago and are still blushing with sunlight and dew droplets.

I pick up a rose before I start to walk out again. It smells sweet and fresh, and has the faintest undertone of fire and smoke. I’ll give this to him. I want to give him the universe. But I think that this is enough. I hope that I’m enough.