Our hospital serves complimentary lunches to the outpatients and it’s always been sandwiches and then one day they inexplicably changed to salads, and Simon, who always get sandwiches of patients who don’t turn up, hated the salads so he forged half a dozen feedback surveys demanding for sandwiches and they were brought back
‘“Well–well you should come to the library. With me. So that we–so that I could check you out.”There’s a brief silence during which Jace considers opening the car door and letting the demons have him for dinner, but Simon’s sudden bursting laugh halts any and all thoughts.“Dude.” Simon heaves between laughs, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, Jace, that was so bad. Oh man, oh Jace. Oh no.”’
‘Jace never thought he’d be grateful to be forced to work on the day of the new Star Wars’ film’s release, all because Alec decided to cash in one of his favors so he could go on a date with that guy from last week, but turns out working instead of watching the movie wasn’t too bad.’
‘“I’m in love,” Simon declares, as he joins his friends at their table in the library.“Groundbreaking news,” Raphael deadpans, “Really, I’m shocked. This is too much. I can’t handle the pure surprise that comes with this revelation. I had never expected this. Next you’re going to tell me you’re in love with Jace, of all people. Then my mind will truly be blown.”Or, Simon is in love with Jace. He hates Christian Ozera, a famous singer. It’s a lot more complicated than it sounds.’
‘The cutting boards are at it again. Or, well, they are fine for most of the morning, until Jace comes in and they start circling around his middle like they’re trying to sacrifice him to the food gods. Or something. At least they aren’t chanting anything.“Just one normal day,” Jace says, “Just one day I want to come in here and be like ‘Hi Simon, here’s your delivery!’ and that’s it. Just once.”“You and me both,” Maia says, eyeing one of the cutting boards currently circling Jace. It’s holding a half chopped tomato she had been working on.“It’s charming,” Simon says, with the voice of someone who has had to repeat that exact phrase way too many times. “It adds character.”Or, Simon owns a sandwich shop with a haunted kitchen. Jace delivers his bread.’
‘Jace looks conflicted now and Simon places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking: ‘Simon Lewis, what does he know about dating?’ Well, from experience, very little. But I’ve been friends with Clary all my life, and on top of that I’ve watched enough rom-coms to be able to confidently call myself an expert. You’ll be successfully dating Clary before you can even say ‘Simon you’re an idiot’. Trust me.”or, Simon convinces himself Jace is into Clary, and like the Amazing Best Friend that he is, tries to teach Jace how to properly wine and dine her. It doesn’t really go as planned.’
The third and final part of my eighth year fic inspired by @snowbazzled ‘s post here.
I should point out now that the text between the asterisks (*) is taken directly from Benjamin Alaire Sanz’s Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (I have merely changed names and a few bits to make it fit). It is a truly wonderful book, and if you haven’t read it yet you may wish to come back to this fic once you have, to avoid any spoilers.
2nd April, Baz I don’t know why, but I’d sort of been assuming (or perhaps just hoping) that Simon would call right away. That I’d spend hours a day draped across my bed twirling the phone wire around my finger and laughing down the line. In reality I think I knew it wouldn’t be quite like that (we haven’t even had a cable phone in the house for ten years at least), but even so, when he doesn’t, I am a little disappointed.
You weren’t sure
how long you had been locked in ‘the box’, as Simon charmingly referred to it.
Days would go by
without any contact from the outside world. You were just left to lay there in
the dark, curled in on yourself to try and stay warm. You were left in your
pants and tank top, but the fabric was thin and the room cold, especially at
confinement wasn’t enough to drive you crazy, the noise just might. The music was
muffled, playing a few doors down from you, but the unmistakable tune of “Easy
Street” seemed to play on an endless loop. You felt terrible for whoever was
being directly subjected to it.
You heard the
lock on your door turn, and you shifted carefully on the floor. Your hip ached
from the cement. When it finally opened, you were forced to shield your eyes
from the light, too painful to endure after so much time spent in the dark.
A shadow came
over you and you squinted up at Simon’s face. He was smiling widely, a paltry
excuse for a sandwich in his hand.
awhile since you’ve eaten,” he mused, holding it just out of your reach. “I bet
Two days at
least had passed since they’d bothered to feed you. You were starving, but
stubborn enough not to admit it.
You met Simon’s
gaze with a challenging glare, and he only laughed at your obstinacy.
“Look kid,” he
rolled his eyes, “being a pain in the ass isn’t going to get you out of this mess
any faster. So maybe swallow that fucking pride of yours. You want food, you
know what to do.” You bowed your head, jaw tight and eyes watering.
bit out, “may I have it?”
he leaned in, pulling a face. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“Please, sir,” you grunted. “May I eat?”
“Of course you
can!” his face broke out into an exaggerated grin. “All you had to do was ask!”
Baz' perfect leaver's ball:
Simon, good music, people not behaving like idiots, SIMON, dancing with Simon, kissing Simon, people not being annoying as hell, talking to Simon, Simon not hating him, his mother does a speech, there is good food and did I mention SIMON
Simon's perfect leaver's ball:
Sandwiches and did I mention SANDWICHES for Crowley's sake
a/n: this is quite short and kinda late but i still wanted to contribute something to the @watfordleaversball celebrations so - happy belated leavers day! enjoy <3
summary: simon and baz get those sandwiches, and then they go up onto the roof of mummers house because i’m a giant cheeseball
“Wait - where are we going?”
“Somewhere more private.”
Baz is pulling Simon out of the kitchen by his hand, the one that isn’t holding the plate of egg and cheese sandwiches Cook Pritchard gave them. (Seriously. She just gave the lot to Baz, without question.)
“Where is this somewhere more private?” Baz leads him out the back door, then starts heading in the direction of Mummers House. “Our room?”
“No. But close.” And he doesn’t answer any more of Simon’s questions, no matter how many times he asks.
But they do go up to their room, and Simon is already opening his mouth in confusion when he sees Baz walk over to the window and open it. A gust of cool night air blows in through it, and Baz turns back to Simon, beckoning him closer with a hand. Still perplexed, Simon steps forward. Then he watches as Baz puts one shiny-shoed foot on the windowsill and pulls himself up onto it.
Simon jerks forward on instinct - almost dropping the plate of sandwiches in the process - and grabs Baz’s leg, hoping to steady him. “Baz,” he hisses. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Calm down, Snow.” Simon can’t even see Baz’s head now. Baz shakes his leg a little. “Can you let go of me?” Reluctantly, and a little anxiously, Simon does, and before he knows it, Baz is out of sight. For a second, anyway. A moment later, one of his hands reappears in front of Simon’s face.
“Come on,” says Baz’s disembodied voice. Simon blinks at Baz’s hand for a moment, then he reaches out and takes it, yelping when Baz pulls him up onto the windowsill. He wobbles there for a second, trying desperately not to look down. Then Baz is taking the plate of sandwiches from Simon’s hand and setting it somewhere on the roof before grabbing both of Simon’s wrists and hoisting him up. Simon scrabbles for purchase on the roof, and when he finds it, he releases a long breath.
“What in Morgana’s name are we doing up here?”
“Enjoying the view, obviously.” Baz is sitting close to the edge of the roof, his feet almost hanging over the drop, and he looks as casual as if he were sitting out on the Lawn. Simon turns - carefully - and sits down next to him.
And the view is beautiful. Simon can practically see all of Watford from here - the main part of the school with its towers that reach the clouds, the moat, the gates shining black in the moonlight…
The moon is huge and round above them, full and cradled by thousands of stars. The sky is just dark blue gaps in between the sparkling white.
Simon breathes out.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Baz says. He nudges Simon’s arm and proffers the plate full of food. “Sandwich?”
Simon grins and takes one, shaking his head. “How did you even get the idea to come up here?”
“Life is surprisingly boring when you don’t have Simon Snow as your roommate anymore.” Baz shrugs. “I had time.”
“Well, it’s more than nice up here. It’s kind of…”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s - ” Simon’s words die in his mouth when he realises that Baz isn’t looking at the scenery anymore; he’s looking at him.
Simon feels his cheeks burn. “This is terrifyingly cheesy.”
Baz laughs, and the sound mixes with the wind tumbling around them. Simon could swear that Baz’s cheeks and ears are slightly red too. Then again, the lighting is pretty dim. He could be wrong.
But Baz looks like something else in this light. With the moon shining down on him, he could be a statue carved out of marble, the sharp angles of his face throwing parts of his face into shadow… but at the same time, he’s never looked softer.
His hair is falling a little into his eyes, but before Simon can move to brush it away, Baz is leaning forward and pressing his mouth to Simon’s, and Simon loses his train of thought completely.
He reaches up and runs his fingers through Baz’s hair, pushing it away from his face, and he feels Baz’s hands rest on his back, tugging him closer. They separate briefly, gasping a little for air, and then their lips meet again, in a space somewhere between the whistling of the wind and the erratic beating of their hearts.
Baz murmurs Simon’s name against his lips, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and Simon relaxes into him, his mouth sliding away from Baz’s, trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck. Simon rests his head there, eyes closed, and he feels Baz’s cheek brush the top of his head.
“Do you have to go back to Bunce’s house tonight?” Baz asks, his voice quiet.
The night of the leavers ball is the last night students get to stay in their rooms, the rooms they’ve inhabited for eight years straight, before they leave it behind forever, strip the memories from the beds and walls and wardrobes to make space for whoever’s next.
Tonight. The last night Simon gets to share this room - their room - with Baz. And for once in eight years, it wouldn’t be painful. It would be beautiful.
Simon shakes his head against Baz’s neck. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
<b>simon:</b> *at leaver's ball*<p/><b>sandwiches:</b> *not there*<p/><b>simon:</b> I came here to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now<p/><b>baz:</b> i am here 2 yknow<p/></p>