#probably shitty

Steve stumbles to the couch in his office. Ears ringing, ringing, ringing worse than that time some homophobic asswipe brought a crowbar to a fist fight. Deserves it though, ignoring Eddie, ignoring the concerns of Chrissy and Robin, the sheer stupidity of thinking just maybe if he built this resort his father would be proud of him. Dad always liked risky things. Oh this area is known for shark attacks? Let’s build a water park and shark observation post! Jesus, he was so stupid. Living up to the bullshit title. He ignores the news coverage. Eddie was at the peak, at the lava observatory. He hadn’t come down. Stupid. Stupid Steve to think a dormant volcano wouldn’t be dangerous.

All around him he hears the thumps and hisses of lava or magma or whatever in the fuck it is that’s raining from the sky in balls landing. Can feel the aftershocks. People are dead or dying because he thought he could make a dead asshole proud. An asshole who never liked him, who disowned him when he married Eddie. He’s spiraling. Can feel the shake of his hands and the stutter of his breath. But he’s got most of the living on boats. They’re evacuating. Except Eddie. Eddie wasn’t at the monorail landing. Only one car came dow- his thoughts halt.

“Mama!”

That’s a child. He stands, wobbles over to the bar where his tablet resides.

“Maaaaaaaamaaaaaaa!”

There. Tiny, so young, all covered in soot. He moves before he can think. Years as a babysitter, of wanting children instilling an instinct to care for children. He’s never been good at learning other languages. The words trip over his tongue clunky but viable. Her mother is dead. He sees her from where he’s holding the little girl to his chest. She’s terrified. He did this. He caused this. Somehow. Maybe the drilling. Went too deep. Like the dwarves of Moria he angered the balrog… or woke it. Whatever.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

It’s not. She’ll never forget this.

“I’m gonna get you somewhere safe.”

Hands her his lucky watch.

“Just listen to this okay. Before you know it, you’ll be safe.”

He gets her to the boat. He saves her. She’s screaming for him. Tears in her eyes as she holds the watch to her ear.

He doesn’t deserve to be saved. A magma ball lands in the water to his left, the water burning, boiling hot. He wills her to look away. Closes his eyes and tilts his head back. Eddie didn’t come down. He’s dead. He’s dead and Steve killed him.

“Find me in the starlight.”

It’s something Eddie said, before he stopped touring. Before the construction of this place. There are no stars here. Just the whistling doom. If there is a god, Steve hopes that she’ll let him see Eddie one last time.

does this suck? Probably.

does it matter? Not really.

will I continue this? Depends, do y’all want me to?

Note: This is the pre-JD (before Ronnie met JD), also some of these shall be my basis on how a story goes (yes, fanfics are in the works). Also it might be shitty.

I want what I want

I need what I need

I want what I need

I need what I want

It was a quiet, pleasant evening. Simon and Baz ate dinner together, chatting about their days. While Baz went out to hunt Simon cleaned up after dinner, and afterward they decided to make some tea and watch a movie. Simon was going to the store to get snacks—because Simon Snow is always hungry—and Baz was in the kitchen putting water on the stove for tea.

They were at Baz’s flat, because Penny had a study group over at her and Simon’s place. Baz was happy to have Simon all to himself, and Simon felt the same. And yes, it was a very domestic evening, considering all they’d been through and the fact that Baz was a vampire and Simon had wings and a tail. It was uneventful, but not unappreciated by the couple. It was comforting to have nights like these together when nothing went awry. No Humdrum or war or fucking numpty to worry about. Just Simon and Baz, enjoying each other’s company.

Then it happened. A moment after Simon left, Baz heard a short shout, and then a terrible muffled crashing and thumping sound. Followed by silence and a low, long groan.

He knows exactly what happened, but that doesn’t mean his mouth didn’t run dry and his pulse didn’t spike as he runs out of his flat to see a disoriented Simon Snow sprawled out on the landing below.

Simon groans again, his face screwed up in pain. One hand rubbing his head through his thick bronze curls, and the other attempting to prop himself up.

Baz practically leaps down the stairs to kneel beside his boyfriend.

“Crowley, Snow. Tried to take the stairs all at once did you?” His mockery is ruined by the concern in his voice. Why must Snow always make him worry?

“Fuck off. I missed a step.” Simon grumbles, trying to sit up. He gives up when a spasm of pain in his back flares up, and sinks back to the ground. He’s dizzy from tumbling head over feet down the stairs. Nothing feels broken, but everything hurts. He feels fresh pain in every point of contact of his body where it slammed into the hard steps. There’s a spot on his tailbone he knows will bruise, and his head throbs. Even his fucking wings hurt, trapped underneath his back.

Nothing seems to be broken or bleeding, thank Merlin. But when Simon tries to move his right leg, he hisses and bites his lip to keep from crying out.

He must have twisted his ankle coming down. Maybe that’s what caused him to fall. He can’t recall exactly how it happened, it happened so fast. Baz doesn’t miss this, naturally. He gives a long, only slightly put-put sigh. “Come on, Snow. Let’s get you fixed up.”

Simon attempts to climb to his feet again, but his new headache and already swelling ankle stop that from happening. He lets out a pained yelp and squeezes his eyes shut, the insistent pain making him see bright white behind his eyelids.

Baz winces just looking at his ankle. It’s not broken, but it has to be at least sprained. There is no way Snow is making it back up the stairs on his own.

“Bloody hell, Snow. You’re so clumsy. You’re lucky you didn’t break your idiotic neck.” Again, Baz’s snarkiness is dulled by the fact that he’s hefting Simon up into arms. He carefully slips one arm under his knees and the other around his back. Simon is shorter than him (by three whole inches that Baz will never stop lording over him) but Simon is sturdier than Baz. He’s all broad shoulders and muscles. If it weren’t for vampire strength, Baz would have more trouble holding him.

Baz rather likes having Simon in his arms—there was a time when he dreamed about carrying Snow bridal style like this, though it was under better circumstances—but Simon feels ridiculous.

“Baz—you don’t—just let me—“ he stutters, switching his arms from being pressed to his sides to clasped awkwardly against his chest, shoulders hunched inwards. His face is burning red, the blush spreading to his ears and neck with every second he’s in Baz’s arms. Baz Pitch is carrying him up the stairs like he’s a princess for Merlin’s sake.

“Shut up, Snow. You can’t walk on that foot.” Baz cuts off his blustering boyfriend with an eye roll. He’s ambling up the stairs sideways, as to not let Simon’s injured foot brush against the narrow wall. And fine, maybe he’s taking his time. He’s got a blushing Simon Snow in his arms, he’s not in any hurry. It’s a bit difficult to balance with Simon’s wings in the way, but not impossible. And Simon’s flustered state makes it more than worth it.

“Put your arms around my neck.” Baz says. Somehow Simon blushes deeper, but he listens. For some reason his heart skips a few beats in his chest when Baz holds him tighter and adjusts him higher against his chest. He lets his head rest gently against Baz’s shoulder and lets himself be carried.

Back inside Baz’s flat, Baz lowers Simon gently onto his couch and slips a pillow under his ankle to keep it elevated. “Wait here, I’ll get some ice.”

“Thanks,” Simon calls as Baz disappears into his kitchen. He comes back with a dishrag tied around a couple handfuls of ice cubes for Simon’s head, and a cold pack from the freezer for his foot.

“This might hurt.” Baz warns before carefully working off Simon’s shoe and sock. Simon doesn’t complain, just sighs in relief when the cold pack is placed on his ankle, closing his eyes.

“That feels better.” He says, holding the ice to the bump on the back of his head.

Baz looks Simon over again, at his rumpled clothes and messy hair. “Does it hurt anywhere else? Do you think you have a concussion?”

Simon doesn’t have the energy to shrug or shake his head. “I’m okay. I just fell down the stairs. I think I...” his ears turn red again, and he looks away from Baz’s face. “I tripped on my tail.”

Baz tries not to laugh, he really does. He molds his expression into what he hopes is stoic indifference. But sometimes it’s like he’s dating a fucking cartoon character and Simon Snow is blushing and his tail, as if hearing the accusation, twitches around spastically and Baz is just one very gay boy and he can’t handle this. He snorts out a tiny laugh at first, unable to contain it, and then it’s like a dam has been broken and all his amusement rushes out at once. He has to sit down on the floor before he falls over. Peals of unrestrained laughter erupt from his lips and his eyes are watering and Simon is glaring at him so hard he makes himself clamp down on his giggling again.

“Sorry, Snow. It’s not funny, it’s not. You got hurt.” Baz composes himself, taking a deep breath.

Simon glares at him for a moment more, then he sighs, sinking further into the couch. His eyes close and his lips turn down into a disappointed frown. Between his thick brows, a defined crinkle reveals itself.

Baz folds his arms onto the edge of the couch by Simon’s torso and rests his chin on them, gazing up at his boyfriend. “What’s wrong, love? Do you need more ice?“

He shakes his head only slightly, and a few curls flop onto his forehead. “I’m fine. I just...”

Baz patiently waits for Simon to gather his words together, and indulges himself by pushing his hair off of his face with a gentle hand.

Simon sighs again, squeezing his eyes shut tightly before opening them again, guiltily meeting Baz’s concerned eyes. “I screwed up our date. It was going to be so good.” He gets more and more worked up with every word. If he still had magic, it would be leaking out everywhere like it always did when Simon got excited. “I was going to bring back those crisps you like, and we were going to watch a movie and snog and then I had to go and fall down the fucking steps, and I just wanted us to have a nice date night and I always mess stuff like this up!”

He punctuates his explanation with a distressed growl, deep in his throat. That frown is still prominent on his handsome face, and Baz doesn’t like it.

“Snow,” he starts, then corrects himself. “Simon. You don’t mess anything up. You didn’t mess anything up tonight either. It was just a little accident. And for the record, I still think this is an all right date. I hate that you were injured, but I’m glad you’re not badly injured. It could have been much worse you know. You’re lucky you have such a thick skull.”

Simon narrows his eyes at Baz, but a little smile tugs at his lips. “You just have to tag an insult on everything you say, don’t you?”

Baz smirks. “I think it’s part of my charm.”

“Penny says it’s your version of flirting.” Simon snorts.

“I...” Baz tries to refute that, but he can’t, can he? Damn Bunce and her astuteness. “Maybe.”

That draws a hesitant giggle out of Simon, but then his expression dips back into disappointment. “I’m still sorry about this.”

“Don’t even try that. You don’t have any reason to apologize, Simon. This just gives me an excuse to dote over you more than usual.” Baz says, and he takes immense pleasure in Simon’s bashful blustering.

“I just fell down a few stairs, Baz. It’s happened before. You pushed me that time.”

“I didn’t push you, Snow. You were just clumsy that time too and I happened to be nearby.”

“Yeah, nearby so you could push me.”

They glare at each other for a moment, then break into giggles. Baz pets Simon’s hair again, trying to stop his laughter.

“Seriously though. Does it hurt anywhere else? Bunce will destroy me if I neglect to take care of you.”

Simon sighs ever so softly, but it’s not one of sadness. “Just my ankle and my head a little.” He admits.

Simon lets out a surprised squeak when Baz suddenly leans to the side and stretches up to kiss his forehead, cool lips pressing just below his hairline. Suddenly seeing an opportunity, Simon smiles a sly little smile and points to his cheek. “Here, too.”

And Baz kisses there too.

He knows what Simon is doing, but he doesn’t mind showering his boyfriend in get-better kisses. Baz kisses his neck, peels down his shirt collar to kiss his freckled collarbones, drops soft kisses up and down his arms and on top of his broad shoulders. He crowns Simon’s beautiful head with kisses and covers every inch of his perfect face with his lips until Simon pulls him down to press their lips together.

They spend the rest of the night piled up on the couch together watching movies, Baz resting against Simon’s chest and between his legs, while Simon keeps his bad foot propped up and rests his chin on the vampire’s head.

Simon falls asleep after Baz gives him some aspirin, and Baz has to text Bunce to let her know what happened and that Simon will be sleeping over. Baz doesn’t dare wake him up, because then he’ll insist on going home and walking on that ankle. He carries Simon into his bedroom and places him on his bed, putting a pillow underneath his foot before tucking him in. Baz even opens a window for him, despite always hating that when they were roommates.

He appreciates Simon Snow sleeping peacefully in his bed for a moment, then gets ready for bed before climbing in with him, careful not to disturb Snow.

Something warm and soft is holding his heart in a death grip. Holding Simon, taking care of Simon, just being around him...Baz is the luckiest person in the world. He wonders if he can convince Snow to stay and eat breakfast. It won’t be hard, Simon never passes up food.