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His suit looked exorbitantly priced. That was the first thing Baz noticed about Simon, moments after commencing into the back garden of his parent’s estate. Simon had definitely received help from Daphne, judging by the paradise-like wonderland which was the Grimm’s backyard. The grass was vibrant with life, feeling chilled against Baz’s bare feet as he walked. He had not been expecting this: mere seconds ago he was tending to Sophronia and Petra, two girls whose happiness depended on making a mess. Basilton had stains of paint on his button down. Reds, yellows, greens drippled and smeared down his shirt distastefully, and he was rather surprised that the people aware of the scene in the garden hadn’t spelled him proper. They must’ve used their magic on other things. Things like spelling stars to glisten in the lean trees, creating a dark and mystical sky above.
Baz must’ve laughed, or smiled, or something along those lines - because he noticed Simon had this nervous (and slightly awkward) grin on his face. He presented himself in such an unusual and un-Simon way, it seemed like he was going to court attempting to appeal his death sentence. Basilton reached out a hand to him, a weak endeavour to calm him down. He hesitated for a short time, glancing at the Grimm-Pitch clan watching. There was Fiona, who had an unbothered look on her face. Standing beside her was Malcolm and Daphne, eyes wide with a strange anxiety for whatever reason. Nobody could tell if they wanted Basilton to say yes, or no. Malcolm had his wand in his hand, which surprised Baz and no one else. He wondered what his father expected to happen. Standing behind the shut, yet glass door were all the children - Aside from Swithin, who’s bedtime was hours ago - shoving and jostling one another to try and get a better look.
“Simon?”
Simon finally took Baz’s hand, which had fallen slightly due to the wait. He held it up and kissed it as an apology. This made Baz laugh.
“Shall I pretend to be confused, Snow?” He said, a handsomely crooked smile plastered on his face.
“Well, I did put on the suit…”
“It makes you look awfully hunky, babe,” He laughed once more, squeezing Simon’s hand. “I’m sorry. You may go on.”
“Well, anyway,” Simon trails off, perhaps wishing his partner hadn’t called him hunky in front of his future in-laws. He was trying to make a good impression, but his nerves were getting the better of him. It was painfully obvious. Simon has a reserved, shy look on face as he sinks down onto one knee. “There’s a lot I could say about us… Our years of hating each other, our first kiss, our years of struggle: But right now I just want to focus on - “
Simon looks over at the family. Baz frowns. Malcolm is staring daggers into the two of them, whilst Daphne makes a gesture referring to the ring box. Simon, remarkably, remembers and pulls it from his pocket. He looks back at his partner.
“Us. And only us. So, Baz, will you marry me?”
A thick, unnerving silence fills the garden. All the eyes, all the effort, all the expectations. It’s too much. The ring is right there, gleaming in the starry night. The ring looked lovely. It suited his tastes perfectly. A silver, elegant band with intense detailing. Baz, who had never stopped looking at Simon, goes on his knees in front of him. Bringing his hands up to his cheeks and leaning in, as if he were to kiss him. Their lips barely graze, and Baz can hear Simon’s heartbeat thumping rapidly against his chest. Nervous, unedged beats that made him feel faint. He whispers calmly:
“Ask me later.”
It’s so quiet, it would’ve been impossible for the others to hear. He then kisses him affectionately, their lips oozing into each other like ice melting. Tears form in Simon’s eyes.
“What?” His voice cracks. The family, who definitely heard that ungodly sound, made their way back inside the house. It seemed to be the respectable thing to do.
“I want to marry you. So much. But ask me another time.” He reaches down, and closes the ring box. If he were to be taunted by that gorgeous ring once more, he would be filled with an uncontrollable longing for it. Well, that is, if he hadn’t already gained that feeling. “Please.”
“But… but we’ve talked about this before. You said you’d marry me, didn’t you?”
“Of course I will. But, clearly, you aren’t very comfortable right now.” Baz takes the box from Simon, settling it in the grass beside them before taking his hands within his own. “I want you to feel happy, not pressured. You’ll feel pressured enough at our wedding.”
Simon sniffles, wiping his tears. “Can I try again?” He jokes, a sad smile on his face.
“Oh, darling,” Baz goes to sit down, and Simon copies him awkwardly. He still felt a terrible amount of pressure and tension, a feeling that he absolutely despised, yet he couldn’t shake. However, it did help when Simon decided to focus on Baz instead. Baz, smiling softly, was staring up at the sparkling sky. “You know what they say?” He asked, and Simon ‘hmm’ed. “Act like the person you want to become.”
“I’ve never heard that.” He admits.
“Well, I think it’s spectacular advice. Think about it.” Baz pauses for a moment, drawing his attention back to Simon. “Look at you - the expensive suit, the nerves, the frown lines - is that who you want to become?”
“No… But, I do want to become your husband. Or, I guess, fiancé.” And there, Simon’s sullen face is back.
“And you will be.”
“So, I can try again?”
“I’d never limit you, darling.” Baz smiles. “I’ve always loved your determination. I’m sure it’ll be perfect next time.”
“I’m already planning it, babe.” Simon said, leaning his head on Baz’s shoulder.
Penelope had shoved Baz into her car roughly half an hour ago, and he still could not get over how awfully cramped it was. He would offer to look for better-fitting vehicles with her, if she hadn’t decided to give him the silent treatment. He couldn’t fathom why, exactly, she was treating him so oddly - but he obviously could not ask. And, he liked her too much to spell her silly. Simon would kill him if he did. “You’re dressed rather nice, Bunce. What’s the occasion?” Basilton tried. Despite the silence, he saw her lips curl upward for a moment. At least he was getting some reaction.
They abruptly halted, causing Baz’s body to smash forward at the dashboard. He let out a miserable groan, dusting himself off and shooting a murderous glare at Penny. But, she didn’t stare back. Instead, she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Baz emulated her hurry to leave, stepping out onto the sidewalk and following her lead like a puppy on a leash. It was a bitterly cold evening, and even through his turtleneck, the chill of the night unsettled him. They trotted along the pavement, barely for a minute, before Penelope seized his hand and lugged him into a restaurant. Startled, and concerned for his safety, Baz took a moment to consider his location. A dark establishment, full of orderly amber lights to allow the slightest bit of vision. To Baz’s great fortune, his vampiric eyes made it easy to get a detailed gander. His stare trailed around the eatery, where he could see rows of upscaled people sipping red wine and gossiping over candle-light. In the far corner, private and separate from the other tables, he could see a mop of golden hair. And, it all suddenly made sense.
“Reservation for Snow?” Penelope said, which snapped Baz back into his current situation. A swanky attendant was smiling at the both of them, and she turned on her heel sharply to lead them to the corner. Baz stared down at the floor, blood-coloured carpets laying there dreamily, and took himself in. He did not feel appropriately dressed for this place. Although he knew, he could most definitely pull it off anyway. Around him, he could smell an odd combination of things. From wine, to incense, to flowers… This place must be full of mages. Was this a mage-only restaurant?
They were at the table quickly, and there Baz could take an arrant look at his boyfriend. He was wearing a button-down that the two of them had chosen months ago. Baz liked it because it brought out his blue eyes, and Simon liked it because it felt nice against his wings. Penelope and Baz took their seats: Penny beside Simon, and Baz on the other side of the table. It felt akin to a job interview. Awkward, and rather dreadful. There was also the fact that two people knew what was happening, whilst the other did not. Baz gave a polite smile in their direction, ignoring his tensing shoulders and his high-alert.
“Baz, hi! How was the drive?”
“Unpleasant.”
“Delightful.”
Basilton and Penelope blinked at each other, before just deciding to shut up about it. Thankfully, Simon managed to steer the conversation back on track, even if it was mostly just him and Penny discussing the food being served. They were so deep into it, that even after they ordered, they kept a menu to simply talk about it more. Baz nodded along, rarely saying a word. He drank the wine, ate little: certainly playing the part of a classist dimwit like the rest of the people in the establishment. He surely looked quite charming, a mysterious, dark looking man not saying a word. But, it was not the role he wanted to play. He wanted to talk to Simon, and he urgently wanted to figure out why they were at such a lavish place. But, no matter his attempts to look pouty and nervous, Simon did not glance his way. Likely because of nerves, but it was quite ridiculous.
“Simon, love…” Baz would say to him: loud enough to draw Penny’s attention, but not Simon’s. He would furrow his brow, cross his arms over his chest and wait a minute more. It happened over, and over, and over again in this brainless cycle until he eventually came up with the excuse - “I’m going to the restroom.”
“Oh!” His boyfriend turned to look at him, but he was already out of his seat and leaving. Simon’s eyes widened, and he briskly said to Penny, “Is he okay?”
“Well, you might know that if you had spoken to him.” She explained, taking a daring sip of the untouched vin de table. “I felt pretty embarrassed for him, honestly… I tried to get you to notice, but you’re a total idiot.”
“Hey!... How did you try, exactly?”
“Hm, let’s see… I did not once make eye contact with you because I was looking at him, I was repeatedly bringing him up but you kept bringing it back to food, and I even kicked you under the table!”
“I’m sorry for being nervous - okay? My heart is beating so hard I can bloody hear it!”
“I’m sure Baz can, too.” Penny shrugs, fidgeting with her ring on her finger. “Listen, you need to talk to him. Maybe it was unnecessary for me to be a part of this.”
“No, no, no. I need you here.”
“You need my magic here, for his magical proposal! Not me!”
Simon stared at her blankly, wondering if that had any relevance. “Yeah!”
“Ugh. Fine.” She frowns.
“Pen, I’m sorry… I just, I really want this to go perfectly. I love Baz so much, and I know it’s what he deserves. But, it’s hard sometimes. I can’t even look at him ‘cause I’m so scared. I don’t want it to end up like last time. It was so embarrassing when I cried like a baby.”
“It’s okay.” Penny reaches for his hand, and gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “This proposal is going to be kick-ass. He’ll freak out!”
“Really?”
“Really. Now, put on that big boy smile, he’s coming back.” Penelope reached for her glass once more, just so her mouth would be occupied and therefore Simon could not engage with her. Unknowingly to the two of them, Basilton had heard their entire conversation. Vampire hearing: Irritating usually, but can come in handy. He sat back down at their table, waiting for Simon to say something. But, instead he was greeted by his boyfriend gazing at him fondly: almost ogling him.
“Simon?”
“You look beautiful.” These were the only words he had said that evening directed at him. Judging by the shaken, and hopelessly devoted look on his face, it seemed as though the words had pained him to say. And, even if that may have come off as rude, it made Baz’s heart melt. He laughed amusedly, shaking his head.
“You look nervous. Where’s your big boy smile, darling?”
Penny choked on her wine, snorting ungraciously. “Bloody vampire,” She mumbled, dapping a napkin around her stained lips. Simon, on the other hand, was thoroughly entertained and therefore was cackling like a hyena. A huge, happy grin was openly displayed on his face.
“There it is.” Baz said softly, clasping his hands in his lap. More drinks were poured, more idle conversation was done, and as the night was finally coming to its close Simon and Penny exchanged glances. And although Baz wasn’t a part of their scheme, he knew what it meant. He was not sure if they were aware he had heard the entire conversation, or just mere snippets of it. Regardless, he would play along. He sat with a gentlemanly smile as the pair stood up, standing in the aisle of the emptying restaurant. He turned his head mannerly, watching with a keen eye as Penny’s ring blasted an array of ravishing colour. Reds, greens, purples, the latter. The colours, whirling around for a moment, went to spell the words “WILL YOU MARRY ME?”. At that, Simon bent on one knee and displayed the open ring box. Baz felt a tang of happiness as he saw the ring was the same as last time. He was glad it hadn’t been changed - he did love it.
“So, Baz,” Simon spoke, watching as Penelope made the colours dance in the air once more. Baz looked on also, but not out of enjoyment. It felt rude if he didn’t. “Will you marry me?” His boyfriend’s eyes darted back to his, and he was getting a despairing feeling of deja vu. Baz took the ring box from his hand, and carefully shut it. He kissed its lid, feeling the gentleness of the velvet against his skin, before handing it back to him.
“I’m sorry.”
There’s a long pause.
“I thought… I thought you wanted it to feel more comfortable.”
“I did. It is comfortable, it’s just… Not very personal, I suppose.”
“Oh,”
“It was lovely though.” Against his will, Baz’s eyes glance over at Penny. She was attempting to erase the words, cringing at her own behaviour. “I just want you to propose. Not my family, not Penny, you.”
“Oh.” Simon frowns. “I’m shit at this, aren’t I?”
“You’re not. Both of these proposals have been amazing.”
“Not amazing enough for you to say yes,”
“Darling, I’m sorry.” Baz says, taking his boyfriend by his hands and pulling him up. He tugs him into his chest and encases him in his arms.
“No, no, it’s okay… I get it.” Simon hesitated for a moment, then finally cuddled him back. “Can we go home and eat ice-cream?”
It was midnight, on a non-eventful Friday evening. Simon stumbled into the apartment, followed by Baz, who was being tugged inside by the drunk fool that was his boyfriend. The two of them had just been out for drinks, with Penelope and Shephard: a regular occurrence. Usually, Baz would be just as intoxicated as Simon, but he wasn’t particularly in the mood. Penny kept apologising, all night, about the awkward scheme from the past week. And before Baz could even think about drinking, Simon was already pie-eyed. That’s what happened when you went to drink with Shephard - You’d become completely and utterly woozy before you realised what was going on.
“Let go of me, you drunkard,” Baz would laugh, whenever Simon laid his greedy hands on him. Which was constantly. Simon was quite a handsy inebriate. Currently, as Baz was still being dragged into their flat, he could not quite come up with an intelligent insult. So instead, he allowed himself to be man-handled. He allowed himself to be forced into his bedroom by a drunk: a handsome, handsome drunk who couldn’t quite fathom what was happening.
“Tonight was so fun… So, so fun.” Simon beamed, plopping himself on the bed and pulling Baz beside him.
“You could say that, if you were plastered.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.” He slurred, his arm snaking his way around Baz as he leaned on his shoulder.
“I don’t mind. I love happy, unapologetic Simon.”
“You must be drunk… being all, y’know, sappy,” He starts to lay down, not noticing that he was dragging Basilton down with him. Neither of them cared all that much. They relaxed against the mattress, their dirty and sweaty clothes pressing against their duvet.
“Forgive me for being in a romantic mood…” Baz was kissing him now, a smile resting permanently on his lips. What he ached for more, however, was Simon permanently on his lips. He would try his hardest - placing his hand on the back of Simon’s neck, pulling him closer, ignoring the burning and disgusting taste of alcohol.
“Romantic, huh?” Simon repeated, several minutes later. He was a fool. Emphasising the tic, right against Basilton’s mouth, laughing for a while after. Complete and adorable idiocy. Baz loved him.
“Yes. In fact, if you proposed right now, you know what I would say?”
“I dunno, not yes.” Simon went hysterical once more upon seeing Baz’s frown, “C’mon, you wouldn’t say yes… Not right now, anyway.”
There was a thick pause. Not awkward, nor uncomfortable. Simon was much too sloshed to even consider uneasiness. Baz, at that moment, was deep in thought. He pondered why exactly he had held off this for so long, forcing Simon to wait. Because right now, his only desire was to marry him. Have a good future together. It all seemed so right, so perfectly right. Perhaps he should have regretted waiting, but he didn’t. If he hadn’t, he would’ve never experienced the glorious feeling of knowing.
“Do you have the ring nearby, darling?”
“‘Course. Keep it in my underwear drawer.” Simon leans against the headboard, watching as Baz rolled off the bed and stood with absolutely zero grace. He tripped and bumbled over to the drawer, shuffling Simon’s underwear around until he found the box. The shiny, gleaming box that had been forbidden fruit to him. Something he wanted so eagerly, but he wouldn’t allow himself to have it. Not until now. “Whatcha doing, ‘Az?”
He settled back down beside Simon, handing the box to him.
“Ask me, please.”
“Huh?”
“Ask me to marry you.”
“You’re… you’re serious?”
“Deadly. You can skip the speech, if you like. Although, I do enjoy them.” Baz leaned his head upon Simon’s shoulder, pushing his hair behind his ears in an effort to get a better view of the scene unfolding before him. Simon fiddled with the box for a moment, looking up at the ceiling whilst attempting to draft up a speech.
“‘Az, darling, love of my life…” He was pink with his efforts. A rosy, happy pink that made Baz’s heart melt. So sweet, that he could forgive Simon for slurring his name and calling him ‘Az’. “I love you, you handsome snob.” He snickered.
“Oh!”
“Will you do me the crazy, impossible honour of marrying me?” Simon opened the box, revealing the painfully beautiful ring. Baz, instead of cringing, allowed himself to smile. A big, goofy smile he would likely not be proud of displaying.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I do!” Basilton laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more as Simon turned to look at him. His mouth was ajar, his eyes were the size of dinner plates, unable to contain his pleasant shock. “Well? Put the ring on me, Simon, please.” He extended his hand out between them, giddy with excitement.
“This isn’t the drunk talking, right?”
“I’m barely tipsy, darling. Please, the ring? Or, we can wait, if I can still say you’re my fiancé.”
“No, no - !” Simon quickly takes the ring out of its confinements, so urgent he drops it on the bed. He curses, picking it up just as suddenly as he dropped it and holding Baz’s hand. With an abrupt slowness and carefulness, he placed the ring around his lover’s finger. He stared. At the ring, at Baz, the ring on Baz’s finger. He was star-struck. “Can’t believe this…”
“Neither can I.”
“Hopefully we have a better wedding than the proposal, huh?”
“I like it. Perfectly imperfect, just like us.” Baz said, as Simon slid down the headboard and rested on the pillows below. He placed his hands over his face, rubbing aimlessly.
“I’m so… I’m so pissed.” Simon mumbled. Baz placed his right hand on Simon’s shoulder, attempting to be calm and reassuring whilst he admired his engagement ring. His engagement ring. Something so precious, something Simon had clearly spent a lot of time finding, and earning the money for, and it made Baz so entirely happy that he struggled to contain it. He wasn’t sure how quickly his cool and collected facade would hold.
“Pissed as in angry or drunk?” He asked quietly.
“Drunk. I’m drunk during one of our most important milestones.” Simon groaned, cranking his head over to look at Baz. Baz hadn’t noticed: He was much too busy staring at the ring. He had his left hand held right in front of his face, and he’d occasionally spread his fingers before closing them once again. Simon’s face lit up. He liked it - Baz really, really liked it. Although his proposal(s) hadn’t gone exactly as planned, he had to admit that none of it mattered when he saw the look on Baz’s face. That shy smile. Those glassy eyes, tears threatening to spill. His grey eyes glistening with joy. “Y’know what? It doesn’t matter. We’re gettin’ married, ‘Az!”
Baz couldn’t even muster up the words to correct Simon and his atrocious pronunciations. Instead, he just nodded. A big, goofy, ridiculously-in-love look on his face.
“You… you would’ve said yes to any of my proposals, wouldn’t’ve you?” Simon asked, shaking his head fondly whilst Baz nodded in reply. “Dramatic ‘astard.”
“You’re the one that proposed three times, bastard.”
“Shuddup ‘Az…”