This Will Do
Merry Christmas, Sadie
I wake up to a mouthful of sweet, golden hair.
I’m not expecting it and I’m shocked backwards. Impossible, it can’t be.
And then I remember.
Lips and tears and heat and fire. I remember being so afraid of what I’d begun, of what kind of a door I might have opened – or closed. I remember him begging me to look him in the eye, of being terrified to let him see exactly how much I need him.
I remember him extinguishing my fear, kissing me over and over and over again, holding himself above me and making me reach up for him.
And I did. Long into the night, I did.
I would again.
We must have fallen asleep in each other’s arms, because here I am, gazing into his sleeping face, lightly touching the moles on his cheek next to his eye like I’ve always wanted to.
Crowley, all the things that I’ve always wanted to do.
Simon is an unbelievable kind of beautiful up close. He’s the kind of beautiful that is significant from a distance, but if you stare at his features too long, they begin to lose their meaning. His eyes are just eyes, not Simon’s eyes, until you look away and back again. It’s like the longer I take in his face, the more I realize I could never possibly get enough.
Sunlight is drifting into the room, setting his curls aglow, and I remember another thing.
“Simon,” I whisper, “it’s Christmas.”
He doesn’t stir.
I’ve just woken up with Simon Snow in my arms on Christmas morning.
I grin. What more could I possibly ask for?
I press the lightest of kisses to his lips, and he sighs, starting to wake up. When his eyes flutter open, they meet mine and there’s the slightest moment of confusion before I see that he remembers everything, too.
And suddenly I’m afraid again. I’m afraid he’ll have come to his senses. I’m afraid he’ll push me away and regret everything that happened the night before, from the first kiss to the last.
“Morning,” he mumbles, and I feel him stretch under the covers, his feet lightly brushing mine.
“Hi,” is all I can say.
For a long time, all we do is lie there, facing each other, inches away, searching each other’s eyes, thinking all the things we wish we could say.
“What’s today?” he asks suddenly, his brow furrowing.
“December twenty-fifth,” I murmur.
His face lights up. “Christmas Day,” he breathes.
A pang of guilt hits me suddenly. “I don’t have anything for you,” I admit.
I probably shouldn’t be guilty. After all, he did sort of show up unexpectedly, I haven’t really had time to prepare, and anyway we were still enemies. Reluctant allies. Until… well…
Simon snakes his hand out from under the blankets, and he touches my cheek, as gently as though I were a butterfly.
“This will do,” he whispers, and there’s something in his eyes. Certainty. A promise.
I want to kiss him. So badly.
He must see it on my face because he doesn’t wait for me to decide. He kisses me with a softness that I didn’t think he was capable of. I almost want to laugh because his mouth tastes sleepy, drowsy, and it’s not the fiery heat he kissed me with last night and it’s so new.
Simon Snow, the Chosen One.
You’re meant to kill me, not kiss me.
He laughs and I realize that I’ve spoken aloud, whispering against his lips. “Chosen One,” he scoffs quietly, “just this once, I’d like to choose for myself.”
My heart nearly sinks because for some reason I think he’s going to change his mind, but to my relief he joins our mouths again, and I wonder if it will always be this way, if I’ll always doubt that my luck could turn, that a boy like him could ever love a boy like me. I wonder if he’d keep kissing me if he knew how afraid I was.
“What would you choose?” I dare to ask when we pause for breath.
He grins at me like I’ve always wanted him to. “You, of course.”
“That’s not very smart,” I tell him, “you might want to think about that.”
“I don’t think,” he reminds me.
“That’s for the best,” I mutter ruefully, “if you did, you’d run as far from me as you could.”
His face goes solemn, and he takes my chin in his hand, not letting me look anywhere but into his eyes.
“Baz,” he murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere, because it turns out I like you a lot and now you won’t be able to get rid of me. I don’t care how crazy it is.” He smirks. “Now shut up and let me give you your Christmas present.”
I’m laughing against his lips at how ridiculous he is, how ridiculous all of this is, and I move my mouth to those three little moles by his eye, pressing my hands into the small of his back, peppering his face with kisses.
Crowley, all the things I’ve wanted to do.
And now I can.