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Simon
Baz and I are walking around Watford. When he got his teaching job, he also got clearance to go pretty much wherever he wanted. We've found a perfect routine since he got the job. I spend my mornings at work, then apply for new jobs for an hour before I make the drive to Watford. We look at apartment listings in Baz's office (although this past week we've moved on from that to contacting movers), then he finishes up whatever he was doing before I got there, then we take our walk.
I want to kiss him in every place we used to fight. We've been working our way down the list for weeks.
"Where's your classroom?" I ask.
"I told you this, Snow," he rolls his eyes. "It's on the second floor of Chauser."
Chauser hall is a simple, rectangular building where half our classes took place. I drag Baz to his room.
"I want you to be a slightly worse teacher because every time you come in here, you have to think of all the things I've done to you."
"Like what?" Baz says. His eyebrow is raised. It's a challenge I rise to. I pin him to the wall with one arm and push my hand into his hair with the other.
We've snogged in his classroom before. We've snogged pretty much everywhere, by now. Except for the place I'm most excited for.
"Students start coming a week from Monday," Baz says when we pull away. I know what he's really saying. This is the last day of this. Between moving and starting to unpack, we're not going to get another day of wandering around Watford.
There's one more place. We've been saving it, if not for last, then for when we needed it. Today, it's both.
We walk up the stairs hand in hand. I jump over the extra creeky step half-way up to the tower at the same time Baz takes one extra-long step to avoid it. We know this place.
And it knows us. When we both put our hands on the doorknob, it turns for us without a spell. It knows us after all these years.
Baz
It's surreal to see Simon here. He didn't come back after everything that happened with the Humdrum, so I never got to really look at him here.
It looks nearly the same, after eight years. The same worn, wooden bedframes and matching wardrobes. The same window that squeaks when you open it.
The differences make sense, I suppose. Normal people would have pushed the beds as far apart as they are now the day they moved in. We weren't normal. We left them three feet apart for eight years.
I've been preparing for this since I realized it was a possibility. I know I can cast the spell as precisely as I want to.
"A blast from the past!" I hold Simon's hand and picture the last day before we left for winter break. We fought about Wellbelove that day. I can still see the hurt in his eyes, if I think about it.
The room explodes into eight years ago. Snow's posters are back on the walls. The beds fly closer together. I wonder if the window repairs itself. Bunce had fixed it, I think.
"Baz!" Simon breathes out. "It's like we never left!"
"I want to kiss you in our room," I say. "Not someone else's."
Simon opens his wardrobe. It's a mess, full of his uniform pants in a pile on the bottom shelf. He laughs. I laugh with him.
It feels like sacred ground. Like if we move too quickly, we'll burst whatever bubble we're standing in.
"Snow," I say. I don't know how to make it sound like I used to in school. I can't come to him with scorn anymore.
"Baz," he says, practically begging for me to kiss him. I close the space between us, taking full advantage of the three inches I have on him.
Then he kisses me.
Simon
It's so good. It's been this good every time, even the very first one, when Baz didn't know what he was doing. He knows what he's doing now. He bites at my lower lip and slides his hands up the back of my shirt.
A part of me feels guilty. It always does, but not like this. Not like knowing that we could have been doing this—with complete and total privacy—since we were fifteen. Baz pushes his calf between my legs. We would have been limited to kisses in corridors and classrooms. We could have been doing everything in this room.
"Are you in a hurry to get home tonight?" Baz whispers into my mouth. I can taste his words.
"And pack more? Circe, no!"
"Good," Baz says. "I have so much I want to do here."
I grin up at him. Maybe the guilt is worth it, to play like this.
We start reenacting our fights.
"You can't do that on my side of the room!" Baz says while I mime my forms.
"What are you going to do about it?" I ask. Neither of us come close to sounding antagonistic.
"I'll give you something else to do with your hands," Baz says. He pulls me around him and we snog some more. We're going to be here for hours, my hands in his hair, pulling his shirt out of his trousers.
I ask if the clothes in our nostalgia powered wardrobes will last through the evening.
"Probably not," Baz says. "But I think that's okay. Do you know how many times I fantasized about you literally tearing my clothes off?"
I shiver. We put on perfect copies of our old uniforms.
I pull Baz into our next kiss by the tie.
"You look too fucking perfect in that tie," I growl.
"Dishevel me, Snow," he coos back. I do. I ruin his tie and his hair and his perfectly ironed shirt.
We stand in the middle of the room, trying to touch every inch of each other for what feels like ages.
"I couldn't bear watching you," Baz says between kisses. "I'd shout at you to stop practicing on my side of the room, then I'd go have a wank about it in the shower."
"I only did it to get you all flustered," I admit. "I like you flustered."
"Only way I know how to be with you, Snow," Baz says, then kisses me again.
The whole room is buzzing. I'm a little worried I'm about to go off. Instead, I glance over to the beds. Baz spells them closer. He literally sings "Come together!" in a perfect John Lennon to combine them.
We still stare at each other when one of us falls asleep first. It's different, staring at each other in this bed.
Baz
This is all I ever wanted. I've imagined Snow having his way with me in every part of this room. I remember when Kerris first told everyone about the spell she and Trixie used to spell their beds together sixth year. I didn't think about anything else for weeks. Now, I've used that spell. I have a whole arsenal of spells I learned through the locker room after football matches, and I'm going to try them all on Snow in this bed.
His wings are flared out behind him. They frame him in red when I unbutton his Watford shirt. A fifteen year old me would have yanked his tie out of it's terrible knot. I untie it slowly, not looking away from his eyes.
In school, the only time I got to see Simon shirtless was when he was injured. I'd cast healing magic while he slept, promising both of us he'd never know. He knows now. We both cried when I told him. I kiss down his chest and lick his nipples. His wings flap behind him.
"You're such a mess," he laughs. I laugh with him. I would never let my hair look like this in school, flying out in all directions. I don't think there's any product in it at all today.
Simon unties my tie while I kiss his neck. He loves it when I do this, part of his obnoxious vampire kink. I imagine telling a seventeen year old Snow he'd be obsessed with me shoving my face into his neck. I nearly laugh out loud.
He grabs either side of my colar with one hand, then pulls me up so I have to look at him. He's asking if I'm sure.
"Unhallow my ground, Snow," I say.
He manhandles me until I'm underneath him, then literally rips my shirt in two. I try to remember that spelled clothes always wear quickly, that it's not that impressive, but I'm already hard and breathing heavy for him.
"You're too perfect, Baz," he says, shaking his head at me. "Someone needs to take you down a notch. Maybe two or three notches."
"Is this what you were thinking all the time?" I ask. I already know the answer.
"Every minute. It was all I ever talked about, how much better than everyone you were."
"What are you going to do about it?" I tease.
Simon puts a hand at the top of my head and ruffles my hair. "That," he laughs when I try to push him away.
"You absolute nightmare!" I say, feigning offense.
"Not so put together now, are you, Pitch?" he gets out between giggles.
"I'll show you not so put together!" I giggle back. I wrap my hands aroudn the back of his head and rake my fingers through his hair while I pull him into another kiss.
He's so in control when we're in bed. He knows what will ruin me and executes it with deadly precision. Nothing like how he was when we lived in this room. He was at my mercy in this room.
I don't mind being at his.
He props himself up on hands and knees above me so I have to reach up for his lips. I'm more than happy to.
"I like you like this," he says. "I've finally got you exactly where I want you."
"Good," I say. I'm grinning up at him. "I'm not going anywhere."
We kiss in our bed for what must be hours. The sun is setting outside.
This room makes me feel fifteen again. Like he might ruin my life if he finds out what I want to do to him. What I want him to do to me. I look up at him. He smiles like the sun.
"I have another idea," I say.
Simon
I can't believe this is what Baz wanted to do. He's crouched over at the window, pretending to drink something while I stand in the doorway. We've put on new uniforms for "realism." Mine is already splitting a little at the elbows.
"I've got you!" I say. I try to get into 'character,' growling at him. "What the fuck are you drinking?"
"Nothing, Snow," he says, desperate. I look in his eyes, searching for pain. There's only want.
I try to glare at him, but I think I might be smiling. "I get to be rid of you now, don't I? I get to turn you in!"
"Snow, don't. I'll do anything."
"Anything?" I ask. "Show me."
Baz closes the space between us with three long, purposeful steps. He licks his lips. "Anything."
I put my hands on his shoulders. I'm already making eye contact, but I soften it. I don't want to break the moment, if this is something Baz wants, but I need him to be sure. He nods once, quick and sure. I push him down to his knees and start working at the the button on my trousers.
"I'll give you something better to drink," I say.
Baz nods again. He's stopped pretending we're back in eighth year and he's looking at me like I'm a three course meal. I smile down at him.
Baz
Snow is terrible at role play. He always is. He's too soft to boss me around. I don't care. It's close enough that I can live in the fantasy.
Snow pushes his trousers and pants down in one motion. My mouth is watering for his cock. He bends down and puts a hand on my chin and tips my mouth open. I try to lean forward to suck him down, but he holds me in place.
"So desperate, Baz," he teases. I told him once—three years ago—that it was better when he made me wait. He's used that information to torture me. "Look in my eyes."
I do, and he lets me get to work. His knees buckle when I take him in my mouth. I cup his arse in both hands to keep him where I want him. He fists my hair in both hands and tugs a little. I keep asking him to push me further down when we do this. He keeps saying no, but keeps his hands on the back of my head so I can take as much of him as I can myself while he pulls my hair.
"Baz, that's so good," he says when I circle my tongue around the head of his cock.
I pull off to look up at him properly. "Good enough that you're not going to turn me in?"
"I was never going to turn you in," Simon growls. "I just wanted this."
"This is all I've ever wanted, Snow," I say before swallowing him down again. I had dreams that went just like this, just without all the smiling.
Simon Snow is always better than my wildest fantasies. The smiling does it. He always smiles during sex, and it always gets to me. If we play this scene again, I'm negotiating that Simon needs to make me strip so my cock doesn't have to press against my barely-magicked Watford trousers.
"Baz, I'm close," he breathes. I hum against him, then take a hand off his arse to tap twice on his leg. "yes," I say with that tap. "I want to drain you fucking dry."
Simon
Baz sucks the spunk out of me and I nearly sob with it. I tug at his hair, because he's asked me to. We could have had this all the time. We have tonight to make up for the lost time.
He's beaming up at me when he pulls himself off my cock. He kisses the head, which makes me laugh.
"Are we done for the night?" I ask.
"I've got more in me," Baz says, still sounding hungry. "You're the one who just came."
"All for you, babe," I grin. "How do you want to come?"
"Inside you," Baz says, without hesitating. "If you want that."
Fuck yes I want that. Eight Snakes and twenty dragons, it's all I want. This is our room in every way except that one.
"What would you have done if we had both come back that January?" I ask.
"Lost my mind, probably," Baz says, laughing. I find another pair of Watford trousers in my wardrobe and change.
"What if I spent all my free time pinning you to walls and dragging you to bed?"
"I'd have to take three showers a day to keep up. I would never have been the one to ask for more. Not then."
"So I'd have to ask. Alright," I say,
"Do you want to run the scene?" Baz asks.
"I want to beg you to teach me how gay sex works."
"How do you know I already know? What if I'm figuring it out with you?"
I shoot him a look. "Honest, Baz, when was the first time you got a finger up your arse?"
"Summer before sixth year."
"The first finger up my arse was yours. You'd have needed to teach me everything when we got back to Watford."
Baz closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he looks smaller and more nervous—like he did that night in Hampshire. Back then, we sat on his floor and had something to eat. Now, we're going to play.
We sit on our bed. Baz insists that he would have spelled them together eighth year if I expressed even the slightest interest in cuddling. I insist that I would have dragged him on top of me so we could sleep wrapped in each other. I kiss him. It's hungry and messy.
"I like this," I say.
"Clearly," Baz says, chuckling to himself.
"Is there more?"
"More kissing? Always, Snow."
"You called me Simon earlier," I say. He almost always calls me Simon now. It's Snow when he's teasing me. Or when he wants me to remember something from when we were younger. It's both, now.
"Besides," I say, "I mean, more kissing is great—awesome, actually. But I meant more than kissing."
Baz's eyes go wide. Like imagining me in every position still makes his brain go fuzzy.
"There's a lot more, Snow," he says. "How far do you want to go?"
"How far do you want to go?" I ask.
"All the way." He doesn't hesitate.
We shimmy out of our trousers and pants, then unbutton each other's shirts.
"Holy shit, Baz," I say. I don't have to imagine seeing him like this for the first time. It's like this every time. I let my eyes rake over him. I don't know how I ended up with someone who looks like this.
At the same time, Baz says, "Crowley, Simon." He openly stares at my cock, like it's something he wants to eat. I know he does.
"Fuck off, Baz," I say. That's what I would have said, when I was eighteen. I would have meant it, then. Now, I'm fishing for compliments.
"Really, Snow," he says, "you're better than I ever could have imagined." He drops his voice so I can barely hear. "I've spent a lot of time imagining this."
He takes me in hand and gives a few experimental strokes. I suck in a breath. I remember the first time we did this. I nearly started crying with the intimacy. I'm not going to cry tonight.
"Do you like that?" Baz asks. He's finally breaking character, raising an eyebrow because he knows exactly what I like.
"Baz," I sigh, "yes. Can I try?
Baz puts his hand over mine on his cock. He "guides" me through wanking him, like I don't know his cock better than he does by now. He shudders with it.
"There's so much more, Snow," he says, locking his eyes on mine as he slowly strokes.
"Show me, Baz."
Baz
At home, I have a bottle of lube stashed in every room of our flat. I'm going to have to find hiding places for them in our new flat once we move in. Maybe they'll be the first thing I unpack.
Here, I don't. I cast, "Slippery when wet," on my fingers and watch Simon's eyes go wide with what I'm about to do to him.
We had been living together for over a year when we did this for the first time. I showed him everything then, too. That was the day I learned he had never watched any pornography.
"It's going to be cold," I tell him now.
"Why?" He asks. "Aren't you made of fire or something?"
I laugh and cast the spell.
I slide a warm finger inside of him. He makes a sound that never stops surprising me. Being back here, playing this game with him, I feel like a teenager again. I think I might last just as long as I would have back then.
I play at not knowing exactly how to hit his prostate for about ten seconds before I make him cry out.
"I need more, Baz," he begs.
"Someone's eager," I laugh, and I give him another finger.
He's so warm. It never stops amazing me.
He makes it about fifteen seconds before he's begging me again.
"Is there a spell to do all the stretching?" he asks when I cast the lube spell again for my third finger.
"Yes. That's a bit of a stretch. You're immune." He groans. I ignore him. "Besides, I like doing it like this."
"Because you're terrible," Simon whines.
"You like opening me up," I argue.
"Because I'm also kind of terrible!"
I laugh. "Let me finish getting you ready. Imagine this is the first time, Snow."
I remember the first time. I spent nearly half an hour getting him to ready.
"Fine," he whines.
"Good. I'm taking my time with you, Snow. I'll fuck you when I'm ready to."
Simon sucks in a breath. "Yeah," he says, quiet and intense. "Yeah, do that."
I torture him with three fingers, bringing him right up to the edge only to bring him back down at least four times.
"You didn't know how to do that eighth year!" Simon scolds me.
"I don't care," I smirk, curling my fingers inside him again and making him writhe beneath me.
"Baz!"
"Yes, Snow?"
"Please get your cock in my arse already!"
Who am I to deny him?
He whines when I pull my fingers out, but he recovers quickly. He stares as I cast on my cock.
He holds me still when I first push into him. He has his hands, wings, and tail around me. He did this the first time, in our flat. We sat like this for what felt like eons. I nearly exploded from the feeling of him.
He doesn't make me wait today.
"Move. Now."
I know what makes him crazy. I go slow and deep. I thank magic that he's already come once today, so I don't have to last that long. I really am going to come just like I would have if we had done this when we were eighteen.
"Snow, I'm close," I breathe out.
"Already?" Simon laughs.
"It's this room!"
"Sure, Babe."
I groan. This only makes Simon laugh harder. I feel his laughter on my cock.
That's what sends me over the edge. I giggle through my orgasm. Simon takes my hand and wraps it around his cock, and I only have to stroke him for a few seconds before he tumbles over the edge with me.
Simon
Baz is still laughing when he collapses next to me.
"What?" I ask.
"I barely made it two minutes," he giggles.
"You really got into character!" I laugh. We're both drenched in sweat. Baz's perfect hair is flying in all directions, so I can't imagine what mine looks like. We're both laughing so hard we can barely breathe.
"We're terrible at this," he says when we manage to calm down.
"Sex? I'd fight with you about that an hour ago, but you just lasted two minutes, so I might need to rethink that."
"No, Simon! Role playing."
"Oh we're awful! I don't know why we like it so much!"
Probably because it feels good to fix our past mistakes. Even if we're both terrible actors. I guess that's why we come back to playing ourselves over and over again.
"What if we fell asleep here?" I ask. It's probably a terrible idea. I want to do it anyway.
"We don't have pajamas," Baz says.
"That's not a no."
"I'll need to wash up."
"And I'll get to join in on one of your legendary Watford showers," I say, knocking into him.
"How can you possibly be able to go again?"
"I definitely can't," I laugh. "But I could wank you in the shower. Give your poor hand a break after all those years."
Baz turns and smiles at me. It's so soft that it would have killed me the last time we were in this room together. "Let's stay the night, Snow."
I kiss him in the bed I learned to love him in.
Baz
I spell Snow's car to get back home on its own so we can drive together. He fiddles with the playlist while I navigate to the motorway.
"For a long time, I thought my last memory of our room would be that fight about Agatha," he says.
I'd nearly forgotten about that fight. "We should have fought again properly while we were there. Have one last dance."
"What would we have fought about?" Snow asks.
"You, not labeling any of the boxes you pack."
"I'm going to label them all in one go!"
"And how are you going to remember what's in each one until then?"
Simon laughs. "We've still got it! We can row about anything."
I put a hand on his knee. I don't really need two to drive. "I like this better than fighting."
I can feel his smile on me. He's like the sun. "Me too, Baz."
Simon leans across the center console to kiss my cheek.
I don't think we'll go back to the tower again. It will belong to someone for the next eight years in a week. We were lucky it's between residents now. Besides that, I don't think we need to. We didn't need to do anything after the first kiss. Maybe, we didn't need to do anything after it recognized us. It only did because it knew us together. Maybe that's enough.