#baz and penny would get along great and simon would feel betrayed

[cosmicalart]

So I had another idea for a fic, idk if I'll write it, I might after my one shot, but I'm gonna tag @carryonprompts in case somebody else has already written or is currently writing something that fits this idea. (Or in the chance I never get around to it and somebody else wants too)

The idea:

Simon and Baz Watford Era get into an argument, the future and the war get mentioned and Simon accidently says something with magic, but rather then accidently pulling his future self into the past because he's immune, Simon ends up pulling future Baz into the past and it's chaos trying to send him back.

Simon (and maybe younger Baz a bit) are confused by the differences. Older Baz is happier, more himself and less of a copy of his dad, and he's open/honest more. He'll admit that Penny is brilliant, laugh at Simon's jokes, compliment Simon when he has a good idea, or even apologize for something if messes up, he also calls Simon by his first name which throws them all for a loop.

I think it would also be funny for him to casually eat in front of everyone having been used to it now and controlling his fangs, so the first time he goes to eat younger Baz is like wtf and about to tackle his older self or panic but then nothing happens. Simon would probably comment about how he's never seen Baz properly eat and then older Baz just has an "oops" moment, cause now it'll seem like he should be able to eat but doesn't, yet can't help his younger self as he is trying to prevent them from finding out as much of the future as possible.

Simon and Baz are married in the future so Baz has a wedding band (maybe an engagement ring also) but refuses/avoids any and all questions about it. He fiddles with it when he's sad thinking about his simon.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Hard to believe it’s been almost a year since I posted this gift fic for @vkelleyart and since the glorious surprise of her creating art for it in return! I was going through my fic folder and it sermed a good day to share it again.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684684

https://vkelleyart.tumblr.com/post/183325372922/happy-friday-or-friends-across-the-pond

Baz

I wake up to an empty bed and the smell of bacon and baking.

Simon’s always been an early riser but most days he’s content to stay close and keep me warm. Or whatever we’re calling it at the moment.

I get up and twitch aside the curtains to see snow still falling.

It started snowing last night, soon after Bunce left, and it hasn’t shown any sign of stopping. It seems we aren’t headed to see my family today after all

I wander into the kitchen and am met by the glorious sight of a barefoot, pyjama-clad Simon Snow making breakfast. I lean against the doorway and drink in the sight of him. He’s humming to himself, not quite in tune with the music drifting through the kitchen from the tinny speaker on the counter, his bronze curls disheveled and springing up in every direction (I love his hair long) (he lets it grow out now because he knows I like it.)

“Good morning, love.” I move to the stove, where he’s frying the bacon and slide my arms around his waist.

He startles and waves a fork in the air. “Merlin, Baz, your hands are cold!” But he puts a hand on mine and rubs my knuckles.

“That’s what you get for leaving me in that chilly bed by myself, you nightmare.”

“I was making you breakfast in bed, you twat. Spoiled the whole thing, you have.”

I bury my face in his neck, ghosting my breath along the moles there. There’s a trail of them that I follow all the way to that spot behind his ear. He shivers when I reach it.

“Penny’s right. You’re such a distraction when I’m cooking.”

“I’m wounded. Just when you’re cooking? I need to up my game it seems.” My lips trail kisses down his neck until I reach his collarbone.

His head falls back, exposing more of that expanse of tawny, freckled skin. He sighs and then exhales a huff of air. “Baz, I’m going to burn our breakfast.”

“That would be a tragedy of epic proportions as it’s too snowy to get to the shops.” I press a single kiss to his cheek and then move away to stand next to him, leaning against the counter.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to prove Bunce right and allow Simon to have another grease fire incident. I am not a distraction. Simon is just eminently distractible when I’m near.

Which is perfectly fine with me.

I call my father after we eat. He informs me that the roads around the lodge are near impassable with the amount of snow that has fallen overnight. “Stay where you are, Basilton. No use trying to brave the roadways. It will likely take all day to get them cleared.” He pauses and then gives a small cough. “I’m sure you and Simon will find something to occupy your time.” He clears his throat in a suspiciously amused fashion but successfully hangs up on me before I can even splutter out an appropriate response

If there even is an appropriate response to that.

Simon lifts his head from where he is sprawled on the sofa to give me a curious look. “Alright, then?”

“Fine.”

“Come here.”

“What?”

“You’re fuming about something. Trust me, I’m familiar with that look.” Simon waves his hand at me. “Come on. Get over here.”

“I’m not fuming.” But I go to him. Because I’m weak, what can I say? I sit by his feet, at the far end of the sofa and cross my arms.

He kicks me in the leg. “What then?”

“We’re not going to visit today.”

Simon snorts. “I’d gathered that, you great git. You wouldn’t take the Jag out in this.” He kicks me again. “What was that at the end? You’re usually much more eloquent. You literally squawked. What did your father say?”

“Nothing.” I can feel my face heating up. By the grin on Simon’s face it’s clear he’s noticed it too.

“Come on, Baz! What did he say to get you all worked up?”

“I told you. Nothing of consequence.” My face betrays me by flushing more. I can’t help it. My father certainly was just poking fun but it’s unexpected. It’s thrown me off a bit.

More than a bit.

Father has become quite fond of Simon. Surprising development. He’s also come to terms with the fact that Simon and I are a package deal. A welcome and unexpected development also.

But what is utterly mortifying and quite startling is the fact that my family has become quite blasé about it all.

About us sharing a room. Sharing a bed.

They’ve also made some assumptions, which is in all certainty Fiona’s fault. She’s in Prague most of the time, thankfully, but she returns with startling frequency and very little advance notice.

Which is probably why my parents presume Simon and I are sleeping together.

Which we are. Just not in the manner they assume.

It’s complicated.

Intimacy issues. Trust issues. Vampire issues.

Complicated.

But nothing we can’t handle. We’re going at our own pace and it’s something we are both comfortable with at this point.

This is just the first time my father has remarked on it so openly. He seemed quite pleased with himself actually.

Fiona is a terrible influence on anyone who comes into contact with her. I had thought my father was immune after all this time but it appears I’ve been proven wrong.

She makes suggestive comments constantly, to me and to Simon. I think she likes to shock him.

She’s just trying to irritate me.

Simon is exceedingly, frustratingly stubborn and his pestering finally overcomes my better instincts and I tell him what my father said. I am gratified to see his face flush.

And then he starts to the laugh, the ridiculous muppet. Throws his head back and roars. I just drink in the sight of him.

He stops laughing and grins at me. “He’s right. We’re snowed in for the weekend and I can think of all kinds of things to keep us occupied.” He waggles his eyebrows at me in that completely vexing yet adorable way he has.

My mouth goes dry at his words. I can think of a few things myself.

My heart begins to race, partly from arousal at the thoughts going through my head and partly from sheer alarm at those same thoughts. I’ve not thought this through adequately. Moments ago, being snowed in with Simon sounded like bliss but now my worries start rising to the surface.

We’ve not gone much past the groping stage at this point. Expert groping I’d say, after all these months, but groping just the same. I’ve been hesitant to go further and Simon has been as well.

But the long stretch of uninterrupted time this weekend is certainly going to put my resolve to maintain my decorum to the test. Damn this weather.

I’m pathetic really because the next words out of my mouth are a whispered question. “What kind of things?”

Simon leaps up from the sofa like an eager Labrador retriever and scurries to the bookshelf. This is not quite the response I expected. He kneels down by the bottom shelf.

Oh no. Fuck. I should have known. Of course, Simon isn’t plotting an elaborate snowbound seduction.

There is a part of me that regrets the fact that no one is seducing a vampire today. A significant part of me.

He’s plotting to torture me with Normal board games all day instead.

Crowley. I’m going to destroy him, just on principle, no doubt of that.

Read the rest here.

[snowkatze]

A Vampire in Kinky Boots

Genre: angst, a bit of fluff Summary: Simon runs his father’s shoe factory, but the business is not going well. Fortunately, Baz Pitch is here to help. Whilst working together, things don’t always go as they hoped for… Based on the musical Kinky Boots, which you don’t need to have seen to understand the story.

Chapter One , Chapter Two , Chapter Three , Chapter Four , Chapter Five

Chapter Four - Soul of a Man

“Simon?” he squeaks in a surprisingly high voice. For a second I almost stop being terrified of him. Then he drops the rat (gross) and I'm reminded again why I should never have trusted him. He's a vampire. And he's been killing people. (Great. I found the killer but I don't think that Penny is going to congratulate me.)

For a moment, I consider fleeing, but then I realize that this might be my best shot to capture him. Finally beat him. I can't believe I never noticed that he was a vampire. I mean, it really just takes a look at him. He looks like Dracula's and Edward Cullen's love child. I guess I just was friends with him for so long that I never would've taken him for a murderer. Yet here he stands. Having just murdered a rat.

I call the incantation for the Sword of Mages, and he looks at me with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. My hand starts shaking. He doesn't look like a murderer. Just scared.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and regains his composure, like it's the easiest thing in the world. (Or like he's done it often before. How long has he been hiding this? Was he a vampire all along? Even when we were still friends?)

He runs his fingers through his hair and my heart starts beating faster. (No. Wrong. Fuck you, heart, stop siding with the enemy.)

I watch his eyes scanning the area and I know that he's weighing his options. He's got no escape route. I'm blocking his way.

“Look, Snow,” he says smoothly and sneers at me, lifting both hands as if to calm me, but his fingers betray him. They're shaking. He's putting on a show. He's just as afraid as I am right now. There he is, trying to play it cool. “I can explain, there's no need for that.”

He points at the sword.

I'm tempted to listen to him, but I won't fall for his mind games. So long as he doesn't figure out my weakness (my stupid, stupid heart), he can't use it against me.

“You've been killing these people from the newspaper,” I growl and take a step towards him.

“Oh shit,” he curses and backs up against the wall. I assume he doesn't have his wand on him, otherwise he would've used it instantly. And he knows me – he can estimate his chances easily. He knows he's at a disadvantage. I have my sword and all he has are his fangs. And to use them, he'd have to get close to me, which is not going to happen.

“So what, Snow?” he snarls. “You're finally going to get what you want? Here's a surprise for you: I've been dead all along. And it was someone else's doing! How does that make you feel?” “Who did this to you, Baz?”

“What, will you let me go if I tell you?” “No?” “Then forget it.”

I get closer to him, always holding the sword in front of me, ready to strike if he makes any sudden movements.

I still want to smooth the frown off his forehead. And I still want to kiss him. I am a fool.

“See, this is just another one of your secrets. Or... is this the reason you've started hating me? Because you started killing people?” “No, that's not the reason. And I haven't killed anybody, Aleister Crowley.” “It's too late to deny anything. I saw the rat, Baz.” “Yes. Exactly. The rat. Why would I kill humans if I could kill animals just as easily?” “Because... their blood tastes better? I don't know. I haven't seen Twilight.” “Fuck, Simon, this isn't Twilight. This is not a story. This is real life, okay? I'm a vampire, that's real. I'm a monster, okay, is that what you want to hear? You've been trying to prove me something for years, here you have it. I'm a vampire. And you could kill me with that sword. That's real, too.”

“You sure I don't need a stake?” “I have no idea, Snow. I've never killed a vampire. But I'm pretty certain a sword through the heart would kill anyone.” What if he's not lying to me? What if he's really a harmless, innocent vampire? Then again, this is Baz Pitch I'm talking to. I don't know what to think. I just want to pause everything and try to make the right decision. But I can't slow down. If only he would tell me something. Something real. “Looks like we're in a pretty tight situation, Baz,” I hiss. “You've got nothing to lose. So you might as well just tell me, don't you think?” “What do you want me to tell you, Simon?”

He looks at me with exasperated, sad eyes and I know that he's given up. He's not looking for a way out any more. And somehow that terrifies me more than anything. Because I know that my sword against his neck is nothing more than an empty threat. I could never go through with it. I could never kill him. And I'd never forgive myself if I would. Not before he tells me. (Not after, either.) “Everything,” I answer.

“Fine, Snow. You got me. I do have another secret. But I'll take it to my grave if I have to.” “Would you really rather die than tell me?” I mumble and I know that I sound hurt. “I mean, maybe I could help you.” He averts his gaze and I hold my breath.

“Believe me, Snow, you don't want to know.”

“Fine,” I snap. “Then you leave me know choice.” “It's okay,” he whispers, “Simon.” And then he looks at me with shimmering eyes, as if he'd wanted to call me Simon one more time. I know that he thinks I'm going to kill him right now. He doesn't lift his gaze off me. As if I'm going to be the last thing he ever sees in the world. And I know that he does care about me, if only just a little. I'm starting to get angry. It's the kind of anger that's only there to eat up the sadness. It tastes bitter combined with my desperation.

“What the fuck, Baz,” I huff, “you'd just let yourself get killed in some dark alley way? You've really sunken low.”

“Hey,” he mutters and a tear runs down his cheek. Fuck no. I can't handle him crying. I'm so short of caving in. He's crying and I just can't believe that he's a murderer or a monster. And I hope that's not just my own insanity talking. “I'm the one dying today, you don't have to insult me.” “No, idiot. You're not dying today. I'm going to take you back to the factory, as a prisoner, and then you'll talk.” I notice his shoulders sinking.

“And this is not the way a Pitch goes down. You're a fighter, Baz. Behave like one.”

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Pride

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4334

Summary: Simon and Baz decide to go to London Pride.

AO3

AN:  In celebration of Pride month, I decided to do a snowbaz Pride fic! Enjoy!

Edit: Earlier readers may notice the fic has changed a bit. I got some constructive criticism and decided to improve it based off that. It's still the same story at heart. I feel like it's better to improve it than leave it in a state I don't like.

Simon

“Baz?”

“Hm?” Baz cracks an eye open.

We’re sitting on the couch, both of us dozing off as we watch The Great British Bake Off. My head is tucked in the crook of his neck, an arm draped across his stomach. He’s got his arm over my shoulders. It’s a familiar, comfortable position we’ve adopted over the past year and a bit, which is probably why I feel safe enough to ask this.

“I was thinking...”

“That’s a first.”

I lightly smack his thigh, making him chuckle. “Stop being a prat and listen to me.”

“Fine, fine. What are you thinking about, Snow?”

I bite my lip. “I was thinking...maybe this year...if you’re cool with it...we could...uh, uh, I-”

“Spit it out, Snow.”

“IwasthinkingmaybewecouldgotoPridethisyear!” It comes out in a long stream of unintelligible syllables.

Baz furrows his brow. “I got none of that.”

I take a deep breath. “I was thinking...maybe we could go to Pride this year...” I wait for him to laugh or hit me over the head and call me a twit. Instead he just stares with wide grey eyes.

“You, want to go to Pride?”

I sit up and nervously rub the back of my neck. “Well, yeah, sorta. I’ve never wanted to go before but that was when I was more worried about the Humdrum than parades. And I didn’t know I was bi before. But it's been over two years since Watford and now I’m with you and I’m feeling relatively normal, so...it might be fun.” Baz keeps looking at me wide eyed. I’m redder than a tomato now, so I look away at the floor. “I-I don’t know it’s a dumb idea, sorry, I-”

“No!” I look up and Baz is shaking his head. “No no, it’s not dumb. It’s just...” He looks down this time. “It’s never something I’ve considered doing before. It’s not like I had much free time before either. Plus I was deep in the closet. Very deep in the closet.” We both chuckle at that.

I reach out and take his hand in mine, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. “So maybe it would be fun. You know, a day for being gay.”

He laughs heartily. “I think every day for us is a day for being gay.”

I shrug. “True. But it could still be fun.”

“Yeah, it could be.” He squeezes my hand. “Alright, let’s do it.”

I grin wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

I tackle hug him down onto the couch. He makes an “oomph” sound, but quickly hugs me back. I kiss up his neck to his cheek then peck the tip of his nose. He smiles up at me like an idiot, a rare thing for Baz. He usually likes to hide them because of some weird misplaced pride. He runs a hand through my curls, then leans up and kisses me. I melt into it, lightly holding his neck. Aleister Crowley, I love this man.

“Hey guys. I’ve got some cherry scon- oh for fuck’s sake! I can’t leave you two alone for two minutes can I?”

I pull away from Baz and chuckle. He groans and mutters something along the lines of "fucking come on, Bunce". I turn to grin at a very pissed off witch.

“Hi Penny,” I say as sweetly as possible. She has her hands on her hips, which pairs nicely with her scowl.

“Hello, Simon,” she grumbles. “Is there a reason you two are snogging on the couch after I explicitly told you not to anymore? Lest I would unleash a particularly nasty curse?”

I sit up, legs still around Baz’s waist. I throw my arms in glee. “We’re going to Pride!”

Penelope’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “Really?”

I nod vigorously. She flicks her gaze down to Baz. He nods as well. Penny smirks.

“Well,” she says, “this is going to be interesting.”

It’s a week until the parade and Baz says I’m far too excited. I researched the perfect place for us to stand. I’ve got the date marked on the kitchen calendar with a rainbow sticker. Baz, Penny, and I all got work booked off for that day. Penny even got a little flag to hang on our door.

I’m walking home from work with a smile when I spot something out of the corner of my eye.

I stop in my tracks and pivot on my heels. They’re hanging right there in the shop window. And they’re bloody perfect. I grin like I always do when I have a bad idea.

“Oh Baz is going to kill me,” I whisper.

I go in.

When I walk into the flat, Baz and Penny are arguing over what pasta sauce to use for the penne.

“For Merlin’s sake, Bunce, vodka sauce is better in every situation.”

“Not everyone likes their food to be unreasonably sweet, Basil!”

Baz walks (more like gets shoved) out of the kitchen and over to me. He places a small kiss on my cheek like always.

“Hello, love,” he says, “what's in the bag?”

“I'll show you if you promise not to break up with and/or kill me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I'm scared to ask now.”

I reach into the plastic shopping bag and pull out what I bought. Baz’s eyes nearly bug out of his skull.

“Merlin and fucking Morgana,” he whispers, “you didn't.”

I grin. “I sort of did.”

“Did what?” Penny shouts from the kitchen.

“Come in here, Pen!”

Penny ducks her head out of the room, licking red sauce off her finger. I hold up my shirt. It's a baggy tank top with three thick stripes. Pink on top, purple in the middle, then blue at the bottom. The bisexual flag colours.

“It's wonderful, Simon,” she says with a grin.

“Baz, show her your’s!”

Baz groans and holds up the black t-shirt. In rainbow scribble-like lettering it says “I'm So Gay I Can't Even Think Straight.” Penny doubles over in uncontrollable laughter. Baz glares while I just smile.

“Fuck off, Bunce,” he grumbles.

“Oh I got you one too, Pen.”

I toss the white tee over to her. She lets it unroll and smiles. She holds in front of herself. It reads “Ally” in fancy rainbow cursive.

“Marvelous, Si!” She beams, then goes back to the kitchen.

“Got us all covered, huh Snow?”

I hold my tank top in front of us, grinning with smug self satisfaction.

“Yup. Thought we needed to look the part.”

He holds up his own shirt and sighs heavily.

“I cannot believe you bought me this. It's ridiculous looking.”

“Well, it's gay and sarcastic, just like you.”

He glares at me, and I smile softly, silently telling him he doesn't need to be so serious with me. That he's allowed to loosen up a bit. His face softens slightly and he leans over to kiss my forehead.

“You're so lucky I love you,” he whispers against my skin.

I reach up and brush some of his hair behind his ear, tracing his sharp jaw line. “I know. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

He must’ve drank a lot of blood earlier, because his cheeks turn bright red. I stand on my toes and kiss him softly. It’s a short, small kiss, but it means everything. I pull away to place my head on his shoulder again, wrapping my arms around him to hug him sideways.

He rests his cheek on my hair. “You better make this up to me.”

With lightning speed, I reach down and pinch his arse. He yelps and narrows his eyes at me, but his deep crimson blush betrays him. I just smirk.

“Don’t worry, darling," I whisper. "I’ll make it up to you all night.”

He’s about to make some sarcastic or sexy comment (either would be good), but the smell of burning tomatoes wafts in from the kitchen. He quickly pulls away and runs towards it.

“Bunce! You better not be burning my sauce, you culinary nightmare!”

The two descend into a flurry of yelling and banging metal. I pick up the black t-shirt Baz dropped in his rush to save dinner. I drape it over my arm and walk to my room. Got to put these in safe place before next week.

The sun is bloody brutal today, which makes me glad I’m wearing a tank top. Baz is wearing about three layers of SPF 50 sunscreen just to keep from burning to a crisp.

He looks like a bloody hipster, donning black ray bans and tying his hair up in a loose bun. He’s even got tight skinny jeans. (Not that I’m complaining.) He’s wearing the shirt too, of course. He has his arm draped over my shoulder, and I’ve got mine around his waist.

“It’s starting soon, yeah?” Penny asks.

She has a hand cupped over her eyes, trying to see down the road where the parade is supposed to be coming from. She’s got her Ally shirt pulled up tied with a hair elastic to create a makeshift crop top.

“It's too hot for a proper shirt,” she said earlier.

“Facebook said it was at 2:00,” I say. I look down at my phone, reading 1:58.

Baz sighs and hangs his head back. “It better bloody well start before I’m a pile of ash.”

I lightly smack his side. “Stop complaining, you fucking vampire baby.”

“Yes, Snow, I am a vampire. A vampire who burns very easily in sunlight.”

“I burn too, and you don’t see me moaning and groaning.”

He grumbles under his breath and looks away. I pull the brim of my red snapback down to better block out the sun. (Baz got it for me so I’d stop squinting.) Baz’s head perks up and he turns to his right.

I furrow my brow. “What is it?”

He smiles slightly, one corner of his mouth pulling up. “Here it comes.”

And right on queue, the sounds of shouting and cheering erupts from up the block. (Bless Baz's vampire hearing. ) It’s a massive wall of people walking in the middle of the road. They’re all dressed marvellously, wearing all different mixtures of colours. They yell and holler, waving their flags high in the sky. The crowd around us starts cheering right along with them. I grin wide enough to split my face.

“Whoooo!” Penny shouts. She jumps around and waves her arms. She’s loving this.

I quickly join in, throwing my free arm up in the air, whooping along with Penelope. Baz stands still. Of course the prat won’t join in. He still acts like a bloody statue most of the time, despite my hyperactive influence.

“C’mon, join in!” I yell.

He looks at me behind his shades without turning his head. “I’m not shouting like an idiot, Snow.”

“Everyone’s shouting, Baz. So right now you look like the idiot.” I nudge his shoulder. "C'mon, just give it a try."

He raises an eyebrow, then shrugs.

“Woohoo!” He shouts, throwing an arm up. Penny looks at him in disbelief, then at me. I shrug and join my cheering boyfriend.

The parade is absolutely incredible. Hundreds, thousands of people of all different kinds march down the road. There are floats with everything from drag queens to half naked people to TV stars. One of them tosses bead necklaces down. Baz catches one and turns to drape it gracefully around my neck.

“Looks good on you,” he says, twirling the green string string around his long finger.

I take his hand and kiss the back of it. “Thanks, love.”

He smiles, and he’s about to say something, when a spray of water hits him right in the left side of his face. I burst out laughing, as does Penny from behind me. He sputters and spits the water out. He takes off his sunglasses to wipe them on this shirt.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “You didn’t tell me there’d be water pistols.”

“Sorry. Though, soaking wet looks good on you.”

Baz glares and replaces his glasses. He turns away, crossing his arms and scowling. I hold his side tightly again, running my fingers up and down over the fabric of his shirt. He slowly relaxes.

“Thank you, love," he whispers.

I furrow my brow. "For what?"

He puts a possessive arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards him. “You always seem to know how to make me feel better. It's marvellous."

Heat spreads on my face. I feel embarrassed. I really shouldn't after two years, but when Baz says stuff like that, I feel like a stupid lovestruck teenager. (Which I guess I kind of am.)

He chuckles at my blush and kisses the top of my head. "Never stop doing that, please."

I nuzzle into the crook of his neck. He’s a bit warmer under the sun, but he always feels the same. He’s smooth and comforting and familiar. He feels like home. “Will do, love.”

We turn back to the parade. The roar of the crowd is near deafening, but it’s amazing. The air is filled with energy. It’s almost crackling with excitement. I feel accepted, because I’m among people just like me. All of it reminds me of being back at Watford, something I haven’t felt in over two years. And I absolutely love it.

“Hey, want a picture?”

We both turn. A man in a rainbow muscle shirt and very tight jean shorts stands a few feet in front of us, holding up a Polaroid camera. I turn to Baz smiling, and he relents. My secret weapon always works.

“Sure!” I say.

I lean my head on Baz’s shoulder and look at the camera. The device clicks and whirrs and spits out a square picture. The man shakes it out a bit and hands it to me.

“Hey! Leaving me out, huh?”

I turn to see Penny, her hands on her hips. I chuckle and gesture for her to come over.

“Mind taking another one, mate?” I ask.

The man nods. “No problem, bro.”

I sling an arm behind Penny’s neck. We all turn to the camera.

“Everyone say, ‘happy Pride’!” he yells.

“Happy Pride!” we shout in unison.

Another click and whirr and square. Penny takes it though. She shakes it out, then carefully places it in her satchel. I hold out our first picture, and she glares at me.

“I’m not your pack mule, Simon.”

I pout slightly. “Please? My pockets aren’t big enough. And I don’t want it to get damaged.”

She rolls her eyes and snatches the photo.

“Thank you, Pen.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re welcome, Chosen One.”

“Hey,” cameraman says, “there’s an after party later tonight. Feel free to drop in.” He hands me a paper. I give him a little salute goodbye and he runs off back into the crowd.

It’s a flyer for a party alright. “Pride Party” read in huge letters at the top. Then the name of a local club and a time. I look over to both Baz and Penny.

“Want to go?” I ask.

Penny nods. “Looks like fun to me.”

It takes a moment, but Baz shrugs and sighs. “I can’t see the harm.”

“Whoo!” I yell. “We’re going clubbing!”

They both roll their eyes at me.

The club is even crazier than the parade. The thumping electronic music is deafening. Pulsing multi coloured lights fly around the room. On the huge stage, a group of drag queens and scantily clad men and women dance. Baz and I are standing at a table near the bar while Penny gets us drinks. I’m tracing my finger up and down Baz’s arm. His eyebrows are close together and his mouth is a thin line.

“You doing okay, love?” I yell over the music.

“Fine. Just hankering for that vodka Bunce is supposed to be bringing.”

“You sure? We can go if you want.”

He holds my hand. “No no, I want to stay. Just have to get used to the environment, y’know? Loud music and vampire hearing don’t mix well.”

I squeeze him tightly. “Alright.”

“Gentlemen! I bring you booze!”

Penny sweeps in with the smug grandiose confidence I’ve come to expect from her. She holds three shot glasses filled with clear liquid. They have little rainbow stickers on them.

“These are adorable!” I say.

“Yeah, but they’re fucking expensive, so this is all we’re getting, boys,” Penny replies.

She raises her glass, and clink them together.

“To Pride!” We all say.

We simultaneously throw the vodka back. It burns my throat terribly. Last time I drank vodka was a few months ago. That ended up with me trying to dance on the bar and Baz desperately pulling me back down. It’s probably a good thing we’re only drinking one. Plastered drunk Simon Snow is a giggling, singing menace.

Baz whistles slightly. “That’s some strong shit, Bunce.”

“Hey it’s our first Pride,” she says, “we deserve to celebrate.”

“Can’t disagree with you there.”

A thumping techno remix of “Closer” comes on. I gasp and clap like a seal.

“I love this song!”

“I’m fully aware,” Baz replies, “you listened to it on repeat for an entire week.”

I tug on his arm. “C’mon let’s dance.”

He looks at me like I’m an extra special idiot. “Are you serious?”

“Look at this face.” I point at my furrowed brow and pinched mouth. “This the very serious face of man who seriously wants to dance to a Chainsmokers song with his boyfriend. So please?”

Baz glances at Penny, eyes pleading. She smirks and chuckles. “Sorry, Basilton, you’re not getting out of this with my help.”

Baz groans, and takes my hand. “Fine,” he says.

“Yay!” I drag him to the dance floor.

We push through the sweaty bodies to an open spot. I start jumping around and moving to the beat as best I can, (I'm not a good dancer). It takes him a second, but Baz joins in. He swings his hips with his arms raised up. Damn, he looks so good.

For once, I don’t feel completely out of place. In the rare cases we ever go dancing, we’re usually the only gay couple there. If I stand too close to Baz or put my arms around him, people give us strange looks, or worse, outright scoffs and sneers. But when I look around, there are two men without an inch between them, and two women their hands on each other. Baz and I aren’t the odd ones out. We fit in. I really, really love that feeling.

“What’s got you smiling so big?” Baz asks with a smirk.

I reach out and drape my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me. He holds my hips, curling his long fingers around them. I lean forward and tap my forehead against his. I move to the song along with him, swaying back and forth.

“Just happy to be here with you, love,” I reply.

I can feel his breath on my face as he chuckles. He pulls me closer until there's no space between us. His arms circle around me, enveloping me in his embrace, trailing his fingers up and down my back. Though his skin is cool like always, a warmth spreads over me. He kisses the mole on my neck, the one he always treats like a target.  I run a hand through his soft black hair. He kisses me more, trailing his mouth up and down my skin. I push my hips against him. It quickly dawns on me that I’m practically grinding on Baz, something we’ve never really done before, (not in public that is). But with the mixture of Pride excitement and that one shot of vodka, I really don’t care. Baz grinds down on me, lightly biting the junction between my neck and shoulders. I groan, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head.

“Baz,” I breath out.

“Simon.” His face is still buried my shoulder. I feel the vibration of his voice on my skin. It sort of feels like a question

I tug a bit on his hair, still moving my hips side to side. His jeans are rubbing against my cargo shorts and it feels bloody amazing. If he wasn't holding me up, I think I'd fall down right now. Crowley, I’m getting way too into this.

“Simon?” It’s definitely a question now.

“Yeah?”

He stops moving and slumps against me, letting his hands fall down at his sides.

“My head is killing me,” he groans. “Too loud. Can we go home?”

I chuckle and smooth his hair. “Of course, darling.”

We all stumble into the flat after a half hour tube ride. It's a miracle we made it up the stairs. Penny is barely upright she’s so tired, but it’s not like Baz is doing much better. He’s practically is hanging off me. If it wasn’t for my arm around his waist, he’d probably be on the floor. I'm the only one who's mostly awake.

“Crowley, I’m knackered,” she says.

She drops her purse on the couch and undoes her hair. It explodes in a big puff.

“Night boys. No canoodling on the couch, please.”

Baz merely grunts annoyedly in response. I just chuckle.

“Night night, Pen. Happy Pride.”

She flashes me one last smile before shutting her door. “Happy Pride, Simon.”

Baz is falling down, so I hoist him up more.

“C’mon, Pitch. Let’s get you to bed.”

I pull him towards my room. He’s dragging his feet, making my job much harder.

“For Merlin’s sake, Baz, walk! One foot in front of the other. It’s not too hard.”

He groans and starts to lazily walk. It’s like trying to move a very tall overly tired toddler. I kick the door open as quietly as I can. Baz takes the last few steps before flopping face first on my bed. I sigh and put my hands on my hips.

“Anything you need, Sleeping Beauty?”

He lifts his head up enough so his voice isn’t completely muffled. “I could use some water. I’m bloody parched.”

“Very well.”

He grins and flops back down. “Thank you, my prince Charming.”

I roll my eyes sarcastically. I walk to the kitchen whistling "Closer" softly (don’t want to wake Penelope). As I fill a glass at the sink, my eye catches Penny’s purse. The two Polaroids poke out through the top. Before going back, I snatch the pictures up.

When I return to my room, Baz is still laying face first on the bed, his long legs hanging off the side. I sigh and put down the glass and photographs.

“Baz, you’ve gotta move. You can’t sleep like that”

He lets out a muffled groan. “Watch me.”

I hang my head and sigh. “You so owe me.”

I take his trainers off first, tossing them on the floor. The jeans pose a challenge. Damn this man and his sexy unreasonable fashion sense. But soon they join his sneakers, leaving Baz is his grey boxer briefs. I spin his legs onto the bed. He shimmies up rest his head on the pillow.

“I know you love it, but do you really want to sleep in that shirt?” I ask.

Baz grunts and lazily starts to pull the t-shirt off. After getting his arms out, it gets stuck at the neck, and he gives up. He looks ridiculous, face down in a pillow with his inside out shirt covering his head. Ridiculously adorable, though.

“You’re pathetic.”

He feebly attempts to flip me off. “Fuck off, Snow.”

Instead of just laughing at him like I would’ve over two years ago, I do what a good boyfriend should, and finish pulling his shirt off. He smiles sleepily at me and buries his face in the pillow.

“You still want the water?”

“M-hm.”

“Then sit up. Not going to have you spill it all over my bed.”

He moans, but does what I ask, leaning his back against the wall. He lazily takes the glass from me.

I make my way around the bed towards my side. I tug off my sweat drenched tank top and put it on my dresser along with Baz’s shirt. My shorts and sandals quickly hit the ground. I plop down on the mattress in my boxers.

I’m holding the Polaroids. The one with all three of us is great. Penny and I are grinning like idiots. Baz has a slight smile. It’s nothing compared to the other photo. Baz is smiling so wide it nearly reaches his pointed ears. His usual prideful disdain seems to be gone. He just looks happy, holding me close. I wish he’d let himself look like that more often. But I’m glad he at least looks like that with me, especially on a day where we're supposed to be proud of who we are.

I look over as Baz is finishing his water. He lets a satisfied “ah” and puts the glass on the table. He gives me an exhausted half smile.

“Have fun today, love?”

I smile back, nodding slowly. “Yeah, most definitely. What about you?”

He sighs and sinks down onto the bed. “Absolutely. Got to be loud and queer. What’s better than that?”

I put the photos on my side table and sink down with him. “Nothing, obviously.”

Baz hums in agreement.

I drape an arm over his chest and move closer. “We should do this every year, now. ”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I like it. Being out there. With you.”

I smile and squeeze his shoulder. “Me too.”

He turns over to face me. I can see a hint of beautiful grey under his mostly closed eyelids. He’s smiling in a relaxed way, too tired to hide his emotions. He leans forward and gives me a small peck, running a hand through my hair. In this moment, we truly seem like a completely normal gay couple, just resting as we come down from Pride high. Lying there, foreheads together, half naked, completely knackered, and utterly content.

Baz cups my jaw, moving a thumb over my cheek.

“Happy Pride, Simon,” he whispers.

I place a hand on his back and pull him closer. Our noses brush against each other. We grin like two very exhausted, very happy idiots. It feels like the perfect end to a perfect day.

“Happy Pride, Baz.”

AN: Hope you liked that! I'm not from London but I've been to Pride parades so I based this off my own experience. My first Pride, I wasn't even out as queer. I am out now though. Incredibly so. You can ask my lady friends ;) My first out Pride was amazing. I really felt like I was part of a community, surrounded by people just like me. I tried to capture that feeling as best I could. I think Simon and Baz, one unknowingly in the closet and one torturously deep in it, would feel similar to that. Again, hope you all enjoyed it :)

These are shirts I based everyone's off of. (Though I made Baz's a t-shirt because long sleeves at Pride=death)  

Baz

Simon

Penny