Work Text:
SIMON
It all happens very quickly.
One second Baz is running across the pitch, graceful as ever, and the next second he's on the floor bleeding all over his mouth. (Okay, not all over his mouth, but there’s definitely some blood.)
One of the players has hit the ball way too hard and it hit Baz right in the face.
I'm on my feet as soon as I see what happened, and run towards him, rules be damned. By the time I arrive, Baz is on his feet, his hand covering his mouth, and a bunch of players surrounding him.
"Ah, Mr Snow, how convenient," Coach Mac says, "Take Mr Pitch to the infirmary, please."
"Of course, sir. C'mon Baz." I take him by the elbow and put my other arm around his back to guide him.
As soon as we’re out of Coach Mac’s sight, though, he shoves me off and starts walking faster, in the direction of Mummers.
“Baz, the infirmary is this way.”
"I'm not going to the infirmary, Snow." Baz grumbles, and I can tell he’s lisping a bit.
"Why not?" I’m still walking next to him, just in case.
"Because."
"Because you don't want the nurse to see your vampire fangs, is that it? So you're admitting you're a vampire.”
“Shut up, Snow, I’m not admitting anything.”
He seems fine enough, but I still walk him to our room. Well, more like he’s fast-walking and I’m practically running behind him. But still.
He’s decent enough not to slam the door on my face when he enters the room, and he heads straight to the ensuite. He does slam the door this time, and I sit on my desk, waiting for him to come out.
Ten minutes pass and he’s still inside, and I’m worried for some reason, so I get up and open the door just the tiniest bit to see if he’s okay.
He’s not on the toilet (thank fuck, he would’ve killed me had I walked in on him), but I can’t really see him without opening the door more, so I do, and the first thing I see is bloody toilet paper on the floor.
Baz is standing by the sink, in front of the mirror, and he glares at me through it.
“Get out.”
“Baz, you really need that checked out.”
“I'm fine, Snow."
“You're really not, Baz, you've already lost plenty of blood.”
“I told you, I'm not going to the nurse.”
“Well then, let me help.”
“No.”
“Come on, Baz.”
“I said no, Snow, leave me alone.”
I sigh in defeat and close the door again, but just as I do, I hear a thud and I open the door again. I see Baz on the floor, looking paler than usual, and trying to get up.
I rush over to him and help him get up. I close the toilet lid and sit him there, and I kneel in front of him.
“Baz? Are you alright?” I mean, i know it’s a stupid question, but I need to ask him.
“Blood makes me dizzy.”
I can’t help but snort at that. I mean, how ironic is that?
“ My blood makes me dizzy, it seems.” He corrects.
“Right. Sorry. I’m going to have a look. Is that alright with you?”
“No. But that won’t stop you, so go ahead. Just get it over with.”
I get up and wash my hands, and then I walk closer to Baz.
There’s dried blood on his lips and a bit on his chin, so I wet a tissue and use it to clean him up.
BAZ
Simon is very close to me. He’s currently dabbing my mouth with a wet tissue, and he’s doing it so gently, too.
He discards the tissue and washes his hands again, and then he walks over to me and just stops.
“Baz, can you open your mouth?” He says as he gets closer, clearly expecting me to just open my mouth. My fangs are still out, and I’m not about to show them to him.
I shake my head, and he just sighs.
“Baz. I need you to open your mouth so I can see the wound. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’ve split my lip many times before, I know what to do.”
I press my lips closer, which is a stupid thing to do, as I just manage to hurt myself more and more blood comes out.
“Baz. Is this about the vampire thing? I know you are a vampire, I have known for ages. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Just let me help.”
He does sound earnest, and looks so as well. I don’t want to trust him, but I do.
I open my mouth just the tiniest bit, and a thin stripe of blood mixed with saliva comes out from when I pursed my lips. It’s really gross.
Simon doesn’t seem to think so, as he just takes more toilet paper and cleans the mess away before pulling at my lower lip, always gently. He inches closer and seems to be trying to stop himself, but he eventually gives in and pushes my top lip to see my fangs.
My immediate response is to push him away, but I stop myself, and I watch his face fill with awe and wonder instead.
“Wicked.” He whispers.
I clear my throat. “Snow.”
“Right, sorry.”
He wets another tissue and folds it so it’s a bit thicker.
“Can you, like, raise your head?” He says as he himself tips his head up, and I shouldn’t find it this endearing, but I do. I do as he asks, and then he pulls my lower lip again. This time, though, he uses the tissue to clean around the wound. I wince. “Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs.
He opens his cabinet and pulls out a glass and a packet of salt. I watch him fill the glass with water and then stir in some of the salt before handing it to me.
“Here, rinse your mouth with this. But don’t drink it.”
“Why do you have salt in the cabinet?”
“I told you, I’ve done this before. Salt water does wonders to heal wounds.”
I take the glass from him and use it to rinse my mouth. It stings a bit.
I get up and walk over to the sink to spit the water out, and then I rinse my mouth with plain tap water. I look in the mirror, but Simon guides me back to the toilet lid.
“I need to see if the wound’s stopped bleeding.”
I sit down, and he comes closer. He tugs at my lip again and examines closely. He presses a bit of tissue to the wound and checks it before giving a short nod. He stays still.
He doesn’t remove his hand, but places it on my cheek instead. He brings his other hand as well, moving slowly, eyes fixed on my mouth. He cups my face. I stay still, not sure of what is going on. Simon seems entranced. He inches closer, and the next thing I know, he’s pressing his lips to my own. It’s so soft and tender it makes me want to cry.
I must’ve died. I must’ve bled out and died and I somehow made it to heaven, cause there’s no way Simon would deliberately kiss me. And so gently, too.
My heart beats as fast as it can, and I feel my cheeks get warmer, both because Simon’s holding me and because he’s kissing me, what.
I don’t know if this counts as kissing, though. He’s just placed his lips atop mine and is still.
He eventually moves away, and I open my eyes (when did I even close them?) just in time to see him opening his as well. We make eye contact and he goes all red in the face.
My throat is dry, and Simon’s eyes are as wide as they can be.
He must realise that he’s still cupping my face, because he lets go and brings a hand to the back of his head.
“Um. I… I don’t know why I did that. I’m really sorry. I’ll just. Yeah. Fuck.”
Nevermind that, I’m actually in hell. I’ll have to suffer for all eternity with the memory of Simon’s lips on mine and the knowledge that he’d never kiss me willingly. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Baz?” Simon’s voice brings me back to reality. I realise I still haven’t said anything and I’ve been just gaping at him this whole time. He looks nervous and almost about to cry.
“I want to kiss you again.” No, no, NO, please tell me I haven’t actually said that. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want to yeet myself to the moat and let the merewolves eat me alive. What the fuck. Why the fuck would I say that, aloud, to Simon?
“Really?” He says, and his voice sounds hopeful. He moves a step closer.
I don’t think I can open my mouth without confessing my undying love for him, so I just nod. Slowly.
Simon smiles. He actually smiles. I’ve always adored that sweet smile of his, and I’ve dreamed countless times to see it directed at me. I never thought it possible. But here we are, in the bathroom of our shared dorm, bloody tissues all over the floor, and him smiling at me as if I were something precious.
I think I’m swooning.
SIMON
I walk closer to Baz again, and I lean in to give him another kiss. His eyes flutter shut and he tips his head upwards. I hold his face gently and kiss him again. And again, and again, and again.
BAZ
I never thought I would ever be kissed this tenderly, let alone by Simon, of all people.
I’m living a charmed life.