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It starts with a dress. The material is soft, the dress knee length and a deep, dark shade of red, much like his wings. Simon holds the fabric gently and runs his thumb back and forth across it.

He remembers once, in one of the homes, one of the girls would let him try on her clothes and do his makeup. He liked the way the dresses fell on his body, the way the skirts flared around his legs when he spun, and the colours of the makeup and nail varnish. He liked being pretty, and even though the clothes didn’t quite fit, they felt more comfortable than anything else he had ever worn.

It was the only time he had ever had a friend before, or since, in a home. It feels wrong that he can’t remember her name anymore.

For the first time, he actually felt happy, felt wanted, because he liked the way he was in those clothes, and his friend liked him too. Then one day, he tripped in her heels at the age of ten and came tumbling down the staircase, right at the foster mum’s feet.

He was sent to a new, boys-only home three days later.

It was fine. It was for the best, even. He was the Chosen One, and appearances matter. What would the mage have said? Simon sighs, then turns around, but bumps right into Baz’s chest.

“Hey, I found that American cereal you wanted to try.” He says, lifting up the box to show him and wrinkling his nose. “The amount of sugar in it is ungodly.” Simon just shrugs.

“Shepard suggested it. But leprechauns don’t look anything like that.”

Baz makes a non committal hum and drops the cereal into the shopping trolley, then glances at the dress, which Simon realises he’s still holding onto.

“That’s nice.”

“Uh. Yeah. Um… I was thinking of getting it for Penny. For her birthday.”

Baz frowns. “It isn’t Bunce’s birthday for months.”

“Yeah, but it’s best to be prepared, right?”

“Sure.” Baz says, not at all sounding convinced. Simon quickly searches through the rack for one in Penny’s size, throwing it in the trolley and then quickly striding off, stammering out something about needing to buy cheese. Baz stares after him, well and truly perplexed, then looks down at the dress.

“We already have cheese at home…”

><><><

Simon and Shepard have spent the better part of an hour arguing about lucky charms cereal and Irish-American history, and Baz is this close to calling Wellbelove’s girlfriend to come bash their heads together and tell them some actual irish history, because while she may not be American, he’s fairly sure neither of them know what they’re talking about either.

However, Simon has been sort of quiet and melancholy all week, so this light-hearted argument actually seems to be a good job of cheering him up. If there’s one thing Baz knows, it’s that Simon loves a good fight.

Penny groans over her coursework.

“Make them shut up, I’m begging you.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Baz replies.

“Distract your boyfriend.”

“You distract your boyfriend.”

“I’m busy.”

Baz wants to reply that he is too, but he actually finished all of his coursework the night before. He’s already gloated about beating her, but she rightly assessed that she had the better sleep schedule (he finished the night before… at 4am), and they had to call it a draw.

“Maybe the two of you can actually interact with us instead of doing uni work, since this is my birthday party?” Simon suggests snarkily. Penny rolls her eyes, but closes her laptop.

“Fine. But no more magic talk. Let's find a game to play or something.”

Hours later, once Penny and Shepard have gone home, Baz pulls out the box he’d been hiding on the bottom of the closet. It’s been a month since the dress incident at the store, but Baz couldn’t get it out of his mind, and other events have started adding up in his mind.

“Simon…” He goes into the living room, where Simon is laid on the sofa. He sits up at the sound of Baz’s voice. “I got you this.” He sits beside him, the large old fashioned hat box on his lap, but he doesn’t hand it over yet. “I didn't want to give it to you in front of the others in case I’ve just misread this situation, and if I have, I’m sorry, but don’t worry, I have receipts for everything-”

“Baz.” Simon lays his hands over Baz’s own. “Stop worrying. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it, because it’s from you.”

“Okay.” Baz says, tentatively. “It’s just… I’ve noticed sometimes, when we’re out, you seem drawn to some clothes I don't see you ever try on. They’re not what I thought your style was, but that seems to be something you’re still figuring out. And you seem to like me dressing you, so… Well. Here.” He passes the box over.

Simon’s brows furrow, but when he opens it, his expression shifts. His face softens.

“Oh…”

Baz isn’t sure if this is a good reaction or not, but before he can hurry out an apology, Simon leans over the box and kisses him. Baz melts into it, but eventually they have to pull away to breathe.

Simon tentatively reaches into the box and pulls out the red dress, in his size.

“I saw how you looked at it.” Baz says softly.

“Yeah.” Simon breathes shakily. “I… I like it. But it’s not what I should wear, is it?”

“Why not?” Baz knows he sounds weirdly defensive. “You can wear whatever you like.”

“But I’m the Chosen One.”

A week ago Simon was still insisting he wasn’t the Chosen One. Baz can’t help but think he just picks and chooses his moments when it’s convenient for him. But now isn’t the time.

“So what? The Chosen One can wear whatever he likes. Who’s going to stop him?”

Simon boys his lip in contemplation for a moment. Then,

“You’re right. Let’s do this.”

“Do what?” Baz frowns.