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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Cake With a Side of Apeirophobia

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 5845

Summary: Baz is turning twenty, but he doesn't want to celebrate. And he's not willing to say why.

Read on AO3

AN: Welcome to a Baz birthday fic! Creds to @carryonmylovelies for inspiring the title. Feel free to look up apeirophobia now but I'll put a definition at the end of the fic. It's angsty and fluffy, so hope you like it.

———————————————-

Baz

“No party,” I say flatly. Simon’s pout looks absolutely pathetic. He’s looking at me like I just kicked a puppy across the room. Or he’s the puppy I kicked.

“Why not?” he whines. “You’re turning twenty! You’re no longer going to be a teenager!”

I shake my head. “Birthday parties are for children, and like you just said, I’m no longer going a child. Therefore no party.”

Snow whines again, spreading himself out across the table. It’s not a very big table so he takes up a lot of space. I nudge his hand away so I can keep eating my fried dumplings.

“Baz has a point,” Bunce says, then goes into a full body shudder. “Oh that feels so wrong to say.”

“Semi thank you, Bunce.”

“Semi you’re welcome, Basilton.” She looks at Snow and points her chopsticks out. “Not everyone likes celebrating their birthday, Si.”

Snow huffs and sits up again, aggressively stabbing at his vegetables. “It’s a chance for cake, presents, and fun. What’s there not to love?”

I take a page from his playbook and shrug. “I’m just allergic to fun I suppose.”

“Seems like it,” he grumbles, taking out his frustration by stabbing a poor gyoza. (Snow eats with a fork, not chopsticks, of course.) “I just don’t get it.”

And Snow never will. Because he isn’t a possibly immortal vampire. There’s no point in celebrating birthdays when you’re going to live forever. I don’t want a reminder of how not old I’m getting. I’d rather let my birthday pass without notice, no matter how whiny my pathetically adorable boyfriend gets.

We all finish our dinner quite quickly after that, considering we don’t speak. Simon is still brewing about it though. He doesn’t need to speak to show how annoyed he is, he never has. I just ignore it. If he wants to be all pissy that’s his prerogative. I’m not budging.

“Don’t you like cake?” Simon asks as he dries the dishes. We’re doing them together as Bunce paid for most of the takeaway. It’s a fine trade off in my opinion.

“Yes, I like cake,” I sigh, “but that doesn’t mean I need a party. I can have cake without a party.”

“Yeah, but birthday cake is special. It’s a big dessert celebrating you.”

“It’s just another cake.”

Snow frowns as he dries a plastic plate clean. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have a day celebrating you? Lots of people being nice, giving you gifts, laughing and talking.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” I grumble. “Having lots of people drinking too much alcohol and spouting platitudes at me sounds stressful, not fun.” And I mean all that, not just because of the whole immortal thing. I don’t like parties. The immortality is just...the bigger thing.

“It wouldn’t have to be many people. Me, Penny, Fiona, a few of your uni friends maybe. We could have a small thing with wine and fancy cheeses and cake. There wouldn’t even have to be any presents.” He rubs a hand up and down his arm. “I-I mean, I do have something to give you, but I can give it to you later.”

For fuck’s sake, why does he have to be so adorable? Admittedly, that sort of party sounds alright. Not fun, but alright. I wouldn’t want to jump out a window at it. But...it’s still a party celebrating my age, which will stay static, while Simon gets older.

“No,” I say firmly, “no party, cake, or presents, nothing. The day will pass without incident.”

Simon’s frown turns into a full on scowl. What’s he so pissy about? Is he that desperate for cake? We can have cake any day. I hand him a plate and he snatches it from me.

“Why are you being so pushy about this?” I ask with more bite than I intended.

He shoves the plate in the cabinet so hard the cupboard rattles. “I just- I don’t get- How can you-”

“Use your words, Snow.”

He glares at me, looking me in the eye. “What the fuck is going on with you? I’m offering to throw you a nice birthday party and you’re just, being a total arsehole about it. I don’t get it!” He snatches a spatula and furiously dries it. “Some of us grew up without any parties at all, y’know. You could handle one.”

Okay, that’s it. I drop the dish I’m washing and glare right back at him. “No, you do not get to do that. It’s not my fault or anyone else’s you grew up in shitty group homes, Snow. You don’t get to use your sad childhood to make me do what you want.”

Simon’s eyes go very wide and his mouth falls open in shock. “N-No, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean-”

“Yes you did,” I hiss. “You were pulling your poor little orphan card to make me feel guilty. That’s not going to work, I still don’t want a party! And I won’t be manipulated!”

“No, I’m not-”

I drop the dish I’m washing, throw the gloves off, and stomp out of the kitchen. “I’m going back to my place.”

“Baz,” Simon almost whines.

“I’m going, Snow.”

I furiously throw on my jacket and boots, all with Simon hovering over me. I start to leave, but he grabs my hand, making me freeze in place.

“Baz,” he says, sounding even more pathetic.

It’s calloused, so warm, so him. Fuck, it’s hard to feel his skin right now. I usually kiss him goodbye before I leave. It’s become routine for us. I miss it, part of me desperately wanting to feel his mouth on mine. But I’m too angry to even look at him right now. So I just squeeze his hand once.

“Good night, Snow,” I say. And I leave, stomping away to try to get my anger out. Simon has taught me the cathartic power of stomping and hitting things. It’s bittersweet. Because I don’t want to think about Simon right now, who probably looks sad and pathetic, who I wish I could comfort right now. But I’m mad, and it’s my fault he’s upset. So I just keep stomping.

———————————————-

I slam the flat door hard, and I hear Fiona yelp. Fuck, I thought she was still out of the country. I’m not going to able to wallow in self loathing and anger in peace.

“Good evening to you too,” Fiona drawls. “Thought you would be at the Chosen One’s place.”

“Where’s the wine?” I ask instead. I don’t want to get plastered, just calm down a bit. Wine always seems to do the trick.

“Chrust, what’s go your knickers in such a twist?”

I stomp to the kitchen and pull a half empty wine bottle out of the fridge. It’s cheap shite but at least it’s something. “It's nothing,” I snap as I pour myself a glass.

“It’s not nothing if your drinking that much wine.”

She has a point. I’m pouring myself a helping glass. I take a deep swig, and when I look up again, my lovely aunt standing in the doorway with a disapproving but sympathetic expression. I look back down at the swirling dark red liquid.

“Snow and I had a fight,” I grumble.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a short silence, then I hear her fuzzy sock steps approach. “And?”

“And what?” I snipe.

She lightly smacks my arm. “Don’t be a smartass, just elaborate.”

I sigh, drumming my fingers on the counter. “He wants me to throw a party on my birthday. I don’t want a party or anything close to that. So we disagreed.”

“Huh.” She leans against the counter with her arms over her chest. “Well, that sounds like something he’d want. The Chosen One does like food. Why don’t you want a party?”

“I don’t like people.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “That can’t be it. You wouldn’t be so cross if that was it.”

“That’s it.

“What did I just say about elaborating, Basil?”

I glare, but her eyes are just as sharp. We’re both stubborn Pitch bastards. She’s not going to budge. Damn her. I look at the counter with clenched fists. “I simply don’t see the need to celebrate my birthday,” I say between gritted teeth. “Since I’m not going to get any older.”

Fiona lets out a long, loud, obnoxious groan. “Basil,” she says through it, “we’ve been through this. You’re not going to live forever.”

“You don’t know that,” I snap, glaring at her again. “None of us know. I could age normally, or slower, or probably not at all! So I don’t see the point in celebrating the fact that even though I’m a year older, I’m not going to change at all, while the man I love withers and dies!”

The whole flat goes silent. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push all the feelings deep down where they belong. I reach for my wine glass but Fiona slaps my hand away.

“No more of that,” she says. “You need a clear head to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” I grumble. I really, really don’t.

“Tough troll teeth, Baz, we are. And we’re sitting down because I’m old and my feet hurt.”

She goes to the door, but I don’t follow at first. But when Fiona scowls at me, I do. She’s a powerful mage. I’d rather not invoke her wrath. We go to the black leather couch. I sink into the cushions, arms still crossed. I focus on staring at one place on the wall instead of whatever expression is on my aunt’s face.

“Now,” she says, “listen to me, Baz. Yes, you’re right in a way, we don’t if you’re immortal or not. But we also won’t know for years. Until then, there’s no point agonizing over it. You can’t live assuming you’re going to outlive everyone else, because then you’re going to do shit like this.”

“Like what?” I mumble.

“Emotionally close yourself off because you’re scared of being hurt. Which is unfortunately what you’ve been doing for a good chunk of your life, love. You can’t keep it up, especially when you’re dating someone.”

I pull further into myself. I really don’t want to admit that she maybe, possibly, has a point. “Well, I’m still not having a party,” I blurt out defensively. “Snow tried to guilt me by bringing up he never had any birthday parties when he was a kid. It’s not like I personally put him in a bloody group home. It’s just manipulative as fuck and I hate that he did that. So no party, because of that too.”

Fiona sighs, head tilting back over the couch. “Well, that is shitty. He shouldn’t have done that.”

“Exactly.

“At the same time,” her hand falls on my shoulder, “did you tell him about this immortality anxiety?”

I shift uncomfortably, pulling a knee up to my chin. “No, just that I don’t like parties,” I say into the denim. “But he should’ve backed off after I said that.”

She sighs again and moves her arm over my shoulders. “Yes, he should’ve. However, he was probably confused and got frustrated. Because he thought he was doing something nice for you and you were being an arsehole for no apparent reason.”

And now she’s almost perfectly echoing Simon’s words. Hearing them again makes my dead heart twist. “I gave him reasons...”

“But not the real one. And your Chosen One knows you well enough to know when you’re hiding something, idiot.”

I bring my other knee up. I feel like a toddler, but it’s comforting. “He was still being a prick.”

“Yeah, and so were you. He got frustrated and said something dumb. You were being closed off and uncommunicative. You both made mistakes, which is alright. You’re only human.”

“Well, technically I’m not.”

She scoffs and ruffles my hair. Now I really feel like a toddler again. “You are in the ways that count, Basil. You love that boy far too much, and he loves you too. So don’t let these mistakes ruin you two.”

I lean against her, the closest we usually get to a hug. Pitches aren’t known for physical affection. “Okay. But I think I want to sleep now. I’m tired.”

“Go sleep, Baz. I’ll order us breakfast in the morning.”

I lean a bit closer. “Thank you, Aunt Fiona.”

She leans too. “Welcome, love.”

I get up, leaving Fiona to her talk show and joint rolling. I finally take my coat and boots off, but take my phone out. As I’m walking down the hall, I notice I have unread texts from Simon. My heart leaps up and lodges in my throat. I’m still looking at the notification when I sit heavily on the bed. I consider just going to sleep without opening them. But Simon doesn’t deserve to be ignored, no matter how mad I am at him. With shaky fingers, I open the messages

Snow (20:18) hey

Snow (20:20) i hope you got home okay

Snow (20:26) i’m sorry for what i said

Snow (20:27) plz text me

Snow (20:27) only if you want to tho

Snow (20:30) i’m really sorry baz

Snow (20:31) i love you

My heart retreats from my throat, I let out a long breath. Merlin, a few tears of relief even fall down my cheek. He doesn’t hate me. Realistically I know he hasn’t hated me for a long time, but it’s still a huge relief. Part of me does want to talk it out right now. But I know I’m too exhausted to discuss anything serious right now. I should respond though.

Baz (20:45) I’m sorry as well, Simon. Let’s talk more about it in the morning though, when we’re not so tired. I love you.

I move to put my phone done, but it instantly buzzes.

Snow (20:45) okay. night baz. i love you.

I smile. I can't help it.

Baz (20:46) Goodnight, Snow. I love you, too.

I turn off my phone and pad over to my dresser. I throw on my silk pyjama pants, and spot a particular shirt. It’s a bright blue LSE Football shirt. My heart warms at the sight of it. Simon bought the shirt the day I got on the team. He wears it all the time, silently showing his pride in both my academic and athletic ability. So much of his love comes without words. And in turn I love him so much for it. I put the shirt on. It smells like him, brown and sweet. Crowley, I’m such a lovesick idiot.

Going to bed isn’t easy. I was expecting to be with Snow tonight, dozing off with his body tangled with mine. When I close my eyes, I can almost see him there. He’s looking at me with half lidded blue eyes, smiling softly, his tail wrapped around my ankle and a wing covering us both. I love when he does that. Like he’s blocking out the world so it’s just the two of us. Sharing a room with Simon Snow was torture, but sharing a bed with him is heaven.

But when I reach out to where he should be, the sheets are empty and cold. The fantasy is shattered. My stomach clenches in regret. I’m still mad at him but I also miss him. So, so much. It’s not that I can’t sleep alone, it’s just that I prefer Snow next to me. His presence calms the storm in my mind, making it far easier to sleep. But I’m alone tonight. So I sniff his shirt, letting the sweet scent fill my nose, and imagine Simon in his bed right now, maybe thinking about me too.

———————————————-

I’ve been looking at my phone for awhile. It’s a bit pathetic, really. What idiot can’t just call his bloody boyfriend? This idiot apparently. I’m staring at Snow’s contact page. It has his number and a photo. I love this photo. I took it when we went to an amusement park. Simon is sitting on a ferris wheel, the bright multicoloured lights behind him, but they’re no match for his dazzling grin. My chest both soars and aches looking at right now. Fuck, I need to do this. I need to fix things with my wonderful, infuriating, amazing boyfriend.

I tap his number. I expect to get a few seconds to collect myself more, but he answers after only one ring.

“Hi,” his slightly muted voice says through my speaker. Even though I’m nervous, just hearing him is such a relief. I let out a long breath through my nose.

“Hello,” I reply, a little more wistful than I intended. There’s a long stretch of silence. Obviously neither of us know what to say. Well, I know what I want to say, but I don’t know how to start. “You were right.” “I know were just trying to be nice.” “I’m an emotionally closed off idiot.” “You are the love of my life and I cannot lose you over something this stupid.” Well, maybe it’s better to start with the basics.

“I’m sorry,” we blurt out at the exact same time. I snort, pressing a hand to my forehead. Simon giggles on the other end. It sounds like tinkling little fairy bells.

“Can I please start?” he asks weakly.

“Okay,” I reply. Truth be told, I want to start. But he asked first.

He takes a deep breath. It crackles a bit over the phone, plus I’ve got it very close to my ear.

“I’m sorry, Baz,” he says firmly, “I’m sorry I tried to push a party on you. I should’ve just let it go when you first said no. Whatever your reasons, I should’ve listened. And I’m sorry for using my past to guilt trip you. I was pissed and it slipped out by accident, which is not an excuse. I promise it won’t happen again. I-I mean, I have no idea what future me will do. But I’ll definitely try. So, yeah. You can do whatever you want for your birthday. I’m sorry for making it about what I want.” He takes a deep breath. This much speaking must’ve been like a marathon for him. “Also I love you. That never stops. Even when we’re fighting. I just, want to make sure you know that...”

I sigh dreamily. He is so adorable it’s almost unreal. He obviously practiced that whole speech, and I love it, because it shows he cares.

“I know, Snow,” I say. “I love you, too. Even when we’re fighting.” I sigh and lean back on my headboard. “Can I say what I need to now?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

“Alright.” I take a deep breath. “I accept your apology. What you said was shitty but I forgive you. I apologize too, though. You were trying to do something nice for me and I was just a total prick. It was incredibly rude. I’ll definitely try to not do that again either, you deserve so much better. I could’ve said no in a far better, nicer way. And...I should’ve told you the real reason I was saying no.”

“You can tell me,” he blurts out. “You can tell me anything.”

I wish I could reach through the phone and hug him. “I know, love, and I will.” I close my eyes, working up the nerve to say it. “I don’t want a party because I don’t like them, sure, but it’s also because...my birthday reminds me that I may not get any older. And, I’m scared I’m going to stay young forever while you keep aging.” I press a hand to my forehead. “I don’t want to think about watching you die, Simon,” I whisper painfully. I’m not sure I’d be able to say that in person, but saying it at all is a massive leap forward.

“O-Oh,” Simon stutters. “I-I see. Well, uh, we don’t know if you’ll-”

“Don’t worry, Snow, Fiona already put me through the ringer. She reminded me that we don’t if I’m going to live forever or not. But still, that fear doesn’t go away. I should’ve just told you, I know. But we both know I’m not great at dealing with my emotions.”

Simon chuckles. “Yeah, that’s very true. I’m sorry birthdays make you think of that. They should be fun and-”

He suddenly stops. There’s a long pause on the other end. I’m suddenly worried he’s been kidnapped or stabbed or something. “Snow? Simon, are you there?”

“Come over to my flat on Saturday,” he suddenly blurts out. “Around...six. Yeah, six is good.”

My brows furrows. “Saturday is my birthday...”

“Yeah, I know. Come over around six.”

“Snow, I don’t want a party-”

“It’s not a party, it’s-” He takes a deep breath. “Just come to my place around six on Saturday. And wear something nice. Not like, too nice, but nice.”

“Simon-”

“Please, Baz, just trust me.”

I know that if I really keep pushing he’ll back off. He knows that too. But dammit, I’m so weak. I do trust Simon, more than anyone. And even though I’m scared, I want to know what he’s planning. I have to trust he’s doing something for me this time.

“Okay,” I sigh. “If it’s a surprise party, I’m going to walk out and not talk to you for a week.”

Simon snorts, the sound crackling over the phone. “Yeah, I’d expect that. But don’t worry. It’s not a party.”

I sigh again, rubbing my tired eye. “Alright, I’m trusting you. Now, I’ve got to go get some breakfast. I’ll see you in a couple days?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then. I love you.

Slowly, I put my other hand over the one holding the phone. And because I’m pathetic, I imagine I’m holding his hand. “I love you too, Simon. Bye for now.”

“Bye bye.”

I hear the line turn off, and I lower the phone. I can’t help but linger on my lockscreen for a moment. I never thought I would be the kind of person who had a couples photo as my phone wallpaper. But there it is, a picture of Snow and I, backs to the camera as we look out over the Eiffel Tower. He’s got his arm around my waist and mine is over his shoulders. We’re all snuggled up with our heads close together. I think I was trying to teach him how to pronounce Arc De Triomphe. (His French is atrocious.) Bunce took it for us like some photo ninja. I called her a stalker for it, but asked her to send me the picture all the same.

Merlin and Morgana, I love him. And I hope my trust is well placed this time.

———————————————-

I pull down my my sleeve. Even though I have no idea what’s going on, I want to look my best. Snow said wear something nice, so I’ve got a black button down and grey slacks. I abandoned the tie and blazer. He also said not to dress too nice. It’s an annoyingly fine line to walk. Well, I’m already at his door, so it’s too late to change now. Nothing to do but knock. So I do.

“Come in!” Snow calls out.

I sigh and take out my key. I hope Bunce isn’t home. She gets pissy when I use my key. Something about me not living there and acting like an intruder. It’s not like I’m crawling in through the window though, I have a key.

Slowly, I push the door open. The entire apartment is in low light. Snow must have all the dimmers set to minimum. And surprisingly, it’s not a complete mess. Everything looks neat and clean. Did Simon actually tidy up for me? I look at the table, which sits just to the left of the pristine living room. My eyes bug out. It’s clean too, but that’s not the strange part. There are two dark green placemats, a single rose in a vase, floating candles, and white napkins, both folded into pockets with silverware in them. It’s literally the fanciest looking thing I’ve seen come near to this flat. Holy shit. What is going on?

“Hi.”

I turn to Simon, who has suddenly manifested next to me. And he looks gorgeous. Well, he always look gorgeous, but he’s really making an effort right now. He’s wearing a green button button down tucked into blue jeans, along with his cleanest sneakers. His hair is still wild, but he knows I like it that way. His wings and tail are unspelled, both relaxed behind him. Though paired with his green shirt he does look like some sort of Christmas dragon. But a very handsome Christmas dragon.

“Hi,” I practically squeak. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your birthday.” He steps forward, gently taking my hand. “Happy birthday, Baz.”

I look from the table to him, then to the table, to him again. “You...you did all this for me?

He grins and nods. “Yeah. I realised that I may like parties, but that’s not you. This,” he gestures to the table and clean flat, “is more you. A nice birthday dinner for just the two of us.”

I stare at Simon. I’m at a complete loss for words. This man, this fucking man. I don’t know how he keeps surprising me, but he does. I adore him so much. And I soon realise I’ve been staring at him for a long while. He looks concerned, and steps forward to take my other hand.

“I know you’re scared about the whole immortality thing,” he says softly. “But you shouldn’t let it keep you from celebrating your birthday. We won’t know for sure for awhile. And if you are immortal, we’ll just, deal with it when we have to. For now we can not think about it.”

I chuckle, squeezing his hands. “That’s still your solution, hm?”

He shrugs, making his wings flap a bit. “Yeah, and it works.” He steps even closer, and I’m instantly lost in his pretty eyes. “Immortal or not though, I’m still here, Baz. You’re not losing me anytime soon. So let me give you a nice birthday. I want celebrate you being, y’know, born and shit, because I’m really glad you’re here.”

Crowley, Merlin, and Morgana, why must he be so incredible? I let go of his hands, but only so I can grab his cheeks and kiss him hard. Simon immediately melts into it. He grips my forearms and moves his mouth with equal vigour. I try to push all my feelings through my lips. My gratitude, my care, my undying love, everything. And it sort of feel like he’s doing the same.

We pull apart, foreheads still together. “I love you,” I whisper, like it’s some secret. It’s not a secret though. I would shout it to the entire world if I could.

He smiles and pulls me closer. “I love you, too,” he replies. “Want to eat some birthday dinner?”

I pull back, still grinning with slightly swollen lips. “Please. I’m famished.”

“Then right this way.” He gestures grand to the table. I walk to it, but Simon gets ahead of me though so he can pull out a chair

“What a gentleman,” I drawl as I sit down.

“Damn right.” He runs around to the kitchen. “Now, let me get the food.”

I can see him racing around through the tiny window. “What is for dinner, Snow?”

He peeks through to flash me a grin. “It’s your favourite, actually. Chicken cordon bleu, asparagus, and New York cheesecake.”

I perk up immensely. That is my favourite meal. I’m glad Snow remembers. “Wonderful. Where did you order it all from?”

“I, uh, actually made it myself...” Oh no. I inhale sharply, and Simon must hear it. He looks through the window again with a little smile. “Wipe that worried look off your face, Basilton, I’m not going to give you food poisoning.”

“Again?”

He giggles. “No, not again. I spent a whole day figuring it out. Penny taste tested all my attempts and she was very harsh. I told her not to let me get away with it being half assed. It took about six tries, but she said this last try was perfect. So I hope you like it all.

My worries melt away. I lean my cheek on my palm. “Alright. I trust you. Don’t make me regret it. I would rather not spend my birthday over the toilet.”

“Now that would be a shit present,” Snow called from the kitchen.

I don’t have to wait much longer. Soon enough, he comes swanning out of the kitchen with two steaming plates and puts them down. My eyes go wide. It actually looks good. There’s perfectly shaped chicken breasts with even bread crumbs and three seasoned asparagus stalks arranged artfully. Simon races back into the kitchen, then comes back with a bottle of wine. He pours it like some sommelier, twisting off the pour. (I bet he watched YouTube videos that told him to do that. Dork.) (I love him so much.) I examine the label when he puts the bottle down.

“Crowley,” I gasp, “this is some very expensive alcohol, Snow.”

Simon picks his glass, looking like the cat who’s caught the canary. “I know. A bunch of chef’s blogs recommended it. So I decided to shell out a bit of my gold.” He pushes his glass towards me. “Cheers, to you turning 20.”

I smile softly, reach out to touch his free hand on the table, and tap our glasses together. “Cheers.”

So we have dinner. The meal is actually delicious. Snow did a very good job. The chicken’s cheese melts in my mouth, the asparagus has perfect seasoning, and the wine is just incredible. I tell Simon as such, and he looks extremely proud. Other than the actual food though, it feels like a pretty normal meal for us. We chat about school, the news, funny things we’ve seen today. It’s so typical I nearly forget that it’s supposed to be my birthday. That is, until after a very nice slice of cheesecake, when Snow pulls out a gift bag.

“Simon,” I say nervously, “you didn’t have to-”

“But I already did. So,” he pushes the bag closer, “open it.”

I sigh and take the bag. There’s a black envelope at the top. I open it with only slightly shaky fingers. I’m not scared of kind of card Simon got, not at all. But when I open it, I realise I have nothing to fear at all. I fix Snow with a deadpan look.

“Seriously?” I ask

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he chirps, knowing exactly what I’m talking about.

I shake my head as I open the Nosferatu birthday card. “You’re ridiculous.”

In type font, the inside of the card reads, “I hope your birthday doesn’t BITE.” Snow is so lucky I love him. But I read further, and there’s something else, written in Snow’s chicken scratch handwriting.

To my favourite vampire, You’re the centre of my universe too. Always will be. Happy birthday. Love, Snow

I reach out and grab his hand. He weaves our fingers together and squeezes my palm. “Thank you,” I say softly.

He squeezes my hand again. “Open the present, then thank me.”

I carefully pull out the tissue paper. There’s quite a lot of it. Finally, I reach the bottom, and slowly lift the present out. It’s...a cork board. After a moment of confusion I turn it around. My breath suddenly goes short. Holy mother of Merlin. It’s fucking gorgeous.

Along the top and bottom are a total of six polaroid pictures, all pinned on to look like they’re hanging on strings. I recognize them. Simon has this silly instant camera and he uses it far too much. I’d find it annoying if I didn’t love the photos. He took all of these. There’s me on the couch with a book propped up on my knees; Simon kissing my cheek as I laugh at how ridiculous he is; Us sitting together at a cafe in Paris; Me with a Starbucks cup, glaring because his camera is annoying but smiling because he’s adorable; A group selfie of Simon, Bunce, Micah, and I; There’s even one of me sleeping in his bed. I flick my eyes up to him.

“Taking photos while I sleep?” I ask sarcastically. “Stalker.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, you look angelic when you sleep so I couldn’t resist.”

That makes my cheeks go far redder than they should. I look back down at the photos. Well, he has a point. I do look very calm. I’m happy in all these photos though. It’s in different ways, but always happy with Simon. At the centre of all these beautiful memories, Simon has placed sparkly black stickers that read “Happy 20th Baz.” Fuck, I’m about to cry. Over some ridiculous, amazing handmade birthday gift my ridiculous, amazing boyfriend made for me. I sniffle slightly. Simon squeezes my hand.

“May I thank you now?” I say softly.

“I mean, you can if you want,” he chuckles.

I look him in his beautiful plain blue eyes, so he knows how serious I am, how grateful I am. For tonight and everything else in our relationship. “Thank you, Simon. It’s lovely.”

He looks back with the same unwavering gaze. “You’re very welcome. Happy birthday.”

I run my thumb over the smooth wooden frame. “It certainly is. Though,” I lift an eyebrow, “if you plan on keep celebrating my birthdays, Snow, you’ve set a pretty high bar for yourself starting out.”

Snow lets out a quiet chuckle. He usually laughs louder, but we’re being quiet right now. Everything about tonight has been quiet. His hand moves further up my arm. “Don’t worry, love, I can do it. Anything for you.”

And by Merlin’s beard, I believe him.

———————————————-

We’re laying in his bed now, bodies tangled together, his tail wrapped snugly around my ankle, both of us under his wing. He’s blocking the world so it’s just the two of us. Just how I like it. I’m dressed in Simon’s university sweatshirt and trackies. He’s in my silk pyjama bottoms with no shirt at all. I trace the freckles and moles that decorate his chest. It’s one of my favourite activities, drawing constellations out of his beautiful body. With every new pattern I find, he hums quietly. I make sure to memorise that sound. I want to, maybe even need to, remember it for every day of my possibly incredibly long life. It’ll keep me sane whenever I get too low. It’ll keep me happy.

Simon Snow is a constantly renewing marvelous miracle. I love him with every single molecule in my semi-dead body. So immortal or not, it doesn’t matter, I’ll celebrate all the damn birthdays I can with him.

———————————————-

AN: Apeirophobia: The fear of inifinity and/or living forever. The actual fear doesn't fully fit with Baz's worries, but necrophobia (the fear of people dying) sounds like a fear of zombies haha.

Awwwww they're so in love it makes you sick lol. Tbh I think Simon and Baz would be the kind of couple that's chill in public but super mushy in private. Lots of soft words and "I love you's" :) Hope you guys liked that. I wanted to show Simon and Baz fighting like a normal couple but making up well too. And I wanted explore Baz's fear about immortality. I feel like that fear would show up more around his birthday. But Simon's there to make sure he doesn't shut happiness out because he's scared <3 So yeah, hope you liked that :)

I'm working on the next request fic, and I'll be updating Black Swan tomorrow. It's gonna be a super fluffy chapter with some art so feel free to check it out. Have a happy Baz birthday everyone! :D

#carry on #snowbaz #baz birthday 2019 #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #fiona pitch #fluff #angst #birthday fic #mysnowbazfic

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