goldfishsunglasses reblogged

the grey dove {part two}

@carryon-countdown day 30: Chapter 61

(also on ao3)

(part one)

length: 4.6k

genre(s): angst(kind of?)+fluff because otherwise y’all would hate me :p

triggers/warnings: none

The one where Simon works at a coffee shop, Baz needs to finish his Christmas shopping, and they both need to find their chill (aka the gay xmas movie we all deserve)

Simon For the first time, I’m actually looking forward to seeing Baz in the morning. I even took the time to make sure I looked nice. I couldn’t do much about my uniform but my hair looks good (Well, I need a haircut; the sides are growing out). I can’t look like I’m trying too hard, anyway. I’ve got to be casual about this. Whatever “this” is. Is this a this? Was that even a sentence? Why am I thinking so hard about this? Oh, right.

It’s almost 9, the time he usually makes an appearance.

I’ve got it all planned out. As soon as he walks in the door, I’ll start his drink and, instead of his name, I’ll write my number and what time I get off work tonight. Is tonight too soon? I hope not, because I really (really) want to see him. Which probably isn’t very casual of me, but I can’t get him out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about him. I don’t think I want to. Which is strange, because I’m usually really good at keeping my thoughts in check. (Or, as Penny puts it, “not thinking”.)

I’m nervous. Christ, I’m actually nervous.

The bells on the wreath we hung up last night ring as the first customer of the day enters the shop. I look up. It’s not him. The second one isn’t him either. Or the third. Or the fourth, or even the fifth. But that’s okay. It’s okay, because he should be here soon. He shows up every day around this time. Every day. He’s probably just running late.

Except…except he’s never been late before. And it’s strange that he would now, especially after we nearly kissed twice. Twice. Enough to make me think he wanted me enough to try again. Except apparently not, because he isn’t here. I don’t know what I expected. Did I think he would just waltz in here and snog me over the counter? No, that’s not his style. Or is it? It hits me how little I actually know about Baz. I don’t even know his last name. I didn’t think I needed to, not yet. I thought we’d work up to that. I thought we might exchange numbers first.

I thought I might see him.

—

Simon My plan for today is the same. His name is already on a cup (I got a bit overexcited earlier), and I’ve done my hair again. I even got it shaved down yesterday, figuring it was time. (The fact that Baz might like it hadn’t even crossed my mind.) (Much.)

I’ll admit: Baz not showing up yesterday made me nervous, like I’d messed up somehow. Misread the signals. This kind of thing is new to me, but we almost kissed twice and I’m pretty sure there’s no way to misread that. Probably.

Trust me to be the first.

I touch my lips, remembering how it felt to have Baz’s so close to my own. They were like a magnet, pulling me in, pulling me closer, pulling me until I had no choice but to kiss him. Not that I would mind. I’ve never even kissed a bloke before, but I know I’d like to.

I want to believe I’ve never thought about that before, but I’d be lying to myself. It’s a weird feeling, realizing things like this. Isn’t it supposed to be something you just…know about yourself? Deep down I think I’ve always known. Not that I’m gay, but that I wasn’t completely straight, but it was never something I thought much about because I was with Agatha and would be for a long time (maybe even forever). Thoughts like that weren’t necessary.

And now they’re hitting me all at once. Especially the ones about Baz (like how his hair falls in lazy waves across his forehead.) (Or how he looks when he’s blushing.) (And then how he looks when I notice.)

He has pretty eyelashes.

Christ, I’m thick.

—

Simon

Baz hasn’t shown up for three days.

I’m trying not to worry, trying not to blame myself.

Trying not to miss him.

I mean, fuck, it’s only been three days. That’s nothing. Only 36 hours. Only 4320 minutes.

No time at all. Certainly not enough to panic and think I’m never going to see him again.

259200 seconds, but who’s counting. (I sound like I’m going mad.) (I refuse to let Baz make me go mad.) (Fuck, I’m starting to go mad.)

Customer after customer had come through the door. Hours had passed. And no Baz.

I’d written his name on a cup again. (More out of hopefulness than excitement this time.) I don’t need it now; I throw it in the bin. I go to close the lid and notice that the cup landed with the “Baz” clearly visible.

I slam it shut.

—

Simon I spend my day off with Penny. I usually spend my days off with Penny, and she was a bit miffed when I told her last time that I had other plans.

“Now what am I supposed to do?” She’d asked.

“Hang out with someone else?”

“Who?”

“Agatha?”

“That’ll be awkward.”

In the end, she did go to Agatha’s. I’d almost asked what they did, but figured she’d tell me herself if it was anything important.

Today we’re studying at the library. Penny says it’s because her house is too loud, but I know she’s lying. I don’t mind though.

The library is near enough to my favorite curry place, and if I manage to focus long enough, Penny usually buys. It makes me feel weird sometimes when she does that, but every time I bring it up she just waves it off and the subject is dropped.

I’m fidgeting in my seat. I’ve read the same sentence five times already, and the words are starting to blur. Penny asks me a question, and I don’t answer. Not because I’m rude or even because I don’t know the answer; but because I don’t trust myself to speak right now.

“Spit it out, Simon,” she says. I knew she’d be able to tell something was wrong. I can never hide anything from her.

“I met a guy.” I say and Penny just nods. Nothing ever phases her. Not that I expected it to, actually. Penny would never judge me for anything like this. I also don’t think she’s exactly surprised.

“You met a guy.” She says and I nod, “are you going to give me any details beyond that?”

“Oh, right, yeah. Well he came into the coffee shop for the first time about two weeks ago, and the first thing he did was insult our coffee.”

“What a charmer.” She quips.

“Yeah, he was an arse. Anyways, he kept coming back. Again, and again, and again, until finally I asked him why.”

She leans forward, her glasses falling down the bridge of her nose. “What did he say?”

“That he’d been looking for a present for his sister,” I say, and push them back up for her.

She snorts, “Yeah, right.”

“He was. We even went shopping for it.” Penny’s eyes grow big at that.

“You hate shopping!”

I shrug, because I can’t argue with her. I did like shopping with Baz though. Liked spending time with him. Penny frowns, because she can tell I’m thinking too hard again, and I continue.

“So, like I said, we spent the day together and then that night….we….we almost kissed.”

“You almost kissed?”

“Twice.”

“Twice!”

“Yes, Pen. Twice.”

“Oh, Simon.” she says, putting an arm around me and rubbing my back, “you really like him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, “I do.”

She sighs and keeps rubbing my back in that motherly way of hers. It’s helping, but not completely.

I think I’m pining. What the hell is wrong with me? It hasn’t even been a week and I’m moping around like a teenager with a crush. (Although, I guess I technically am a teenager with a crush.)

“Fuck this,” I say, and Penny just sighs again.

—

Simon It’s been five days since I last saw Baz.

—

Simon It’s been six days since I last saw Baz.

—

Simon It’s been seven days since I last saw Baz.

—

Simon It’s been eight days since I last saw Baz.

—

Simon It’s been nine days since I last saw Baz and it’s becoming obvious (even to Davy) that something is off. I’m cleaning up for the day when he comes over and slings an arm over my shoulder. I try not to flinch away (I really hate being touched without permission) and manage a smile.

“What’s wrong, son?” He asks.

“Nothing, sir,” I lie, “just tired.”

He looks at me for a moment and I think he’s going to say something else, but he just shakes his head and walks away. He’s been weird lately. Distant. Ever since he caught Baz and I together, he’s barely speaking to me. I tried to bring it up, but he shut me down and told me to clean the machines. I’d already done it, but I did it again because he looked so pissed off that it wasn’t worth pointing out.

—

Simon I don’t see Davy again until the end of the day, when he has plenty to say. He’s just finished snapping at me about cleaning the machines (again), and I’m looking forward to going upstairs and collapsing into my bed, when he gestures to the storage cupboard.

“You never put the tinsel up.” He says, “or any of the other decorations.”

“I’m sorry…I–I was…I got–”

“You don’t need to say it, Simon. You just need to get that done. Today, if it’s not too much trouble.” He says the last part sarcastically, which I think is pretty unnecessary. But, as usual, I say nothing and just nod, even though I don’t really want to do it without Baz here.

I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone this much, especially someone I’d just met, but I guess I was wrong.

Davy leaves, and I trudge over to the cupboard and open the door. As I stand on my toes trying to reach the box on the shelf, I remember why I didn’t grab that one the first time, and find myself wishing Baz was here to get it for me. And to help me put it up. And to tell me where the fuck he’s been.

I sigh, and stand on my toes to reach for the wreath. I manage to grab the very edge, but when I pull it a pile of papers tumbles down with it. Shit. I let go of the wreath to try and catch the papers and then it falls to the floor. Fucking hell, what else can go wrong today?

The headline of one of the papers catches my eye. It reads “FIRE AT COFFEE SHOP LEADS TO TRAGIC LOSS”.

I realize every single paper has the same headline. There must be hundreds here, all saying the same thing, all with the same two pictures. One of The Mage’s Men, except the windows are boarded up and the sign on the front says “Natasha’s”. The other of a family: a woman who looks like Baz, and a little boy who…a little boy who looks like a younger Baz. I think that is Baz.

“What are you doing?”

I jump when I hear Davy behind me, and I drop the paper I’m holding. I don’t turn around. Something doesn’t seem right. Why are these here? Why are there so many? What is he hiding? I’m almost scared to ask, but I face him anyway.

“What is this?” I ask, holding up the paper. I expect him to look surprised, or even nervous, but instead he smiles.

“That’s a newspaper.”

I want to roll my eyes, but something tells me that’s a bad idea right now, “I mean, what’s this?” I point directly at the headline.

“Surely you know the history of this place, Simon?”

“No, I don’t.”

“The Mage’s Men used to be called Natasha’s, back when it was owned by the Pitch family,” he makes a face when he says Pitch, like he’s just smelt something terrible. “One night she was there with her son–yes, I mean him–and there was a fire. She died saving him. The details are in the paper, if you care to read.” He says this all so casually, like we’re having a perfectly normal conversation.

“The family was heartbroken, of course, “ he continues, “they sold it after the fire, after her death. And then I took it and made it mine. And made it better.”

When he’s done, my mouth is hanging open. I can’t believe what he’s just told me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask once I’ve managed to somewhat collect my thoughts.

“What’s wrong with me, Simon? What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m the only one seeing the big picture here!”

“She was a dictator!”

“She was a person.” I growl.

“She was a monster!”

It’s then that I see him for who he really is. A pathetic man who’s convinced himself of too many things, who doesn’t care who he hurts or what he took from others along the way. Including, apparently, me. Baz wouldn’t have left without his influence, I’m sure of it.

“What did you do to Baz?” I demand.

“I sent him away.”

“You sent him away? Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because he was a spy!” Davy shouts, spittle flying from his mouth. He grabs my shoulders and shakes me slightly. He’s starting to scare me.

“Davy, what the fuck,” I say flatly, fighting to keep my voice steady. (I’ve never called him by his first name to his face. Then again, he’s never acted like this before.) It wouldn’t do any good to go off right now, even though I’d really love to punch him right in the mustache.

“You’ve tried to control my whole life, my whole future, but that’s going to end. Here. Now. And in case it wasn’t obvious, sir, I quit.”

The look on his face would be comical if I wasn’t so afraid. I’ve just done a huge thing, because I was right, he’s been in charge of me practically my whole life. He’s given me everything I needed to survive. What will I do without him? I shake that question off.

I’ll be fine. Probably. Technically I could have left the care home at 16, but Davy pushed me to stay there. Once upon a time, I was sure he was right. That he had a good reason. Now I’m not so sure. I’m not sure of anything at the moment, really. I feel like my world is falling apart, like everything I knew is a lie, and all I want to do is curl up in a ball and hide away. I thought this place was the key to my future.

I need to leave it behind, need to walk out that door and never look back.

So I do.

—

Simon I take the tube around the city until it gets dark and then wander around until I’m confident I can sneak in without getting caught. Davy’s usually never here at night, which is why I was so surprised when Baz and I woke him up before. I’m hoping that he’s out (wherever he goes. Something tells me I should have questioned that more), because I’d left my stuff here when I’d stormed out earlier. Lucky for me (and no so much for Davy), I still have the extra key, so I don’t have to bother actually breaking in. (Not that I’ve ever done that. That would be wrong.) (Shut up.)

I’m shoving as much as I can into my duffle, when I have to accept that not everything will fit. So I creep quietly back down the stairs for something else. Once I’m in the shop I see it. The little bag belonging to Baz.

The dove. I have to give the dove back to him.

I take it out of the wrapping and hold it up to the lamp. The light reflects off it and, as I turn it this way and that, I realize what drew me to this particular piece. I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner, it’s not like I hadn’t spent plenty of time looking.

The dove is the exact same shade of grey as Baz’s eyes.

—

Simon I take a taxi to Penny’s house, even though I know it’ll drain me of the last of my cash. I’ll figure something out, I always do.

Penny’s mum answers the door.

“Simon,” she says, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hi Professor Bunce,” I say (I’ve never called her anything else, just Professor), “is Penny home?”

She looks me up and down, and I know she’s taking in my disheveled appearance. My hair is flat, my tracksuit is wrinkled, and I’m clutching a bin bag stuffed with everything I own, along with a duffle bag and a small green bag from Harrods. I must look a sight.

“Penelope is in her room.”

“Thank you,” I say, and walk past her and up the stairs.

Penny I’m reading in bed when he shows up. Nearly scares me to death, looming in my doorway like that.

“Simon?” I call out, “is that you?” He steps into the light and the first thing I notice is that he looks terrible. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are frantic, not quite focusing on one thing.

“Penny,” he says, “something’s happened.”

Simon Before I realize what’s happening, I’m spilling the whole story to her. About Davy. About Baz. About what Davy did to Baz. About how I have to find Baz.

Penny I never fully trusted Davy, never thought he was a good influence on Simon, but I never thought he was flat out crazy.

I can’t help Simon deal with that, at least not right now. What I can do is help him find the guy he’s been mooning over for the past two weeks.

“Pen,” he says morosely, “how am I going to find him?”

“That’s easy,” I say, “you got his last name from the paper, right?” he nods, “so we play detective and google him.”

“Google? Really?”

“Do you have a better idea?” I ask and he shakes his head. That’s what I thought.

I make myself comfortable and open my laptop, Simon leans into me and watches as I type “Basilton Grimm-Pitch” and hit enter. Multiple articles come up: some old, some new; some not even about him.

I click on a link that’s got information about his house. It’s a historical landmark, apparently, and once I find that out his address is a click away. I’m sort of concerned about how easy it was to find it, but I don’t say anything aloud. I don’t know if Simon needs anything else to worry about right now.

Simon We’ve been searching for a good hour and a half when I realize how late it is. Penny offers me her couch for the night, and of course I accept because where else am I going to go?

Well, technically, it’s her parent’s couch. Her mum doesn’t like me much; thinks I’m a bad influence. Penny says that’s bullshit and that she spends more time convincing me to break the rules than the other way round. She doesn’t say that to her mum, though. Only me.

I start to wonder if there would even be any way Professor Bunce would believe that, but I’m asleep before I can finish the thought.

—

Simon I wake up the next day, and start to panic because I’m not in my bed. The feeling goes away when I realize I’m at Penny’s and not in any danger.

The next thing I realize is that Agatha is in the armchair next to me.

“Well, this is unexpected.” I say, my voice still scratchy like it gets in the morning.

She nods, and I’m worried this is about to become uncomfortable.

“I’m gonna go…shower.” I say, with a little awkward wave that I wish I could stop doing because fuck how embarrassing. She kind of looks at me like she’s thinking the same thing.

“Have fun.” She says, the end of her sentence trailing up a bit almost like she’s asking a question. I used to hate when she did that.

—

Simon In the shower I grab the first wash I see, which ends up smelling like flowers. It’s not too bad actually. Years in homes taught me to clean myself quickly and I finish up in less than 5 minutes. I’m pulling a shirt over my head when Penny barges in.

“Fuck, Penny! What if I wasn’t wearing anything?”

She rolls her eyes at that. “I have brothers, Simon. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

I blush. “Well you haven’t seen…mine. So…so be careful.” I stumble out.

Penny just rolls her eyes again, but I notice she’s making an effort not to look at my bare torso. “Agatha says she has plans with Minty tonight and that if we don’t get in the car right now she’s leaving.”

“Shit. Okay, give me a second.”

She nods, and shuts the door behind her. I finish getting the shirt on, adjust the waistband of my joggers, and head back to Pen’s room. Once I’m there, I double check that Baz’s address is in my phone, and grab the bag. Can’t forget the bag, it’s the whole reason we’re going to his house. (Why am I still lying to myself?)

When I get outside, Agatha’s in her car, tapping her nails against the steering wheel. Penny and I both climb into the back and Agatha complains this makes her feel like a chauffeur. When neither of us will move, she just huffs and stars the car.

“Who is this guy, anyway?” she asks, “and why the hell are we driving so far out to see him?”

“He’s Simon’s new boyfriend.” Penny says matter-of-factly and Agatha nearly crashes the car.

“Simon’s what?”

“Honestly, Agatha, you dumped him, are you really surprised?”

If looks could kill, Penny would be on fire right now. Agatha’s glaring daggers at her as she rights the car and I bet Penny hasn’t even realized what she said was rude. With barely a glance at Agatha (or acknowledging the traffic accident she’d nearly caused), she stares me down.

“So, Simon: what are you going to say?”

I shrug.

“Are you just going to shrug at him?”

I shrug again and she rolls her eyes.

“Honestly, Simon, I can’t believe you’re going to his house without a plan. That’s mad! Isn’t that mad, Agatha?”

“Mad.” She says. She still won’t look at me. I think she’s offended. (Not because Baz is a boy, but because I’ve moved on from her.) (At least I think so.)

She’s right (as always.) I shouldn’t just go there expecting him to forgive me or to even want to see me. I can’t force him to listen or come back.

But I can try.

The rest of the ride is silent until Agatha pulls up to what looks like another road. But when I look up I see the large house at the end. I feel my heart jump.

I realize this must be his drive.

It’s fucking huge.

Agatha stops the car. “You can walk from here.” I open my mouth to protest, but Penny turns around to look at me.

“Agatha’s right,” she points out, “you can use the time to think about what you’re going to say.”

“Or,” I counter, “I could talk myself out of it and come running back to the car.”

“No you won’t.”

“I might.”

“Not if we leave.”

Even Agatha looks surprised at this and Penny smiles smugly.

“One of us needed a plan!”

Penny shoves me out of the car. (I could fight back, of course, but it’s Penny.) (Also I don’t want to.)

“Good luck!” She calls and Agatha even gives me a small smile and an encouraging wave. I know at some point I should talk to her about all of this, but I need to fix “all of this” first. A little voice inside my head reminds me that she is the one who broke up with me, and that I don’t actually owe her any explanation, but I feel like it’s the right thing to do.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t always feel like I needed to do the right thing. Like right now the right thing to do would be to return Baz’s sisters present and only that. I’m assuming a lot by showing up here, mostly assuming that he actually wants to see me when his prolonged absence suggests otherwise.

The walk up to Baz’s house is long, longer than I expected it to be. Long enough that I have time to doubt myself. Doubt whether or not he actually wants to see me. I should just leave the bag on the step and run. I would if I didn’t think Penny would leave me here if I didn’t at least try talking to him.

Suddenly, I’m there. I’m at the door. And Baz is on the other side (hopefully.) I’m nervous, more than I was when we left Penny’s house. Definitely more than I was when I thought up this plan. I consider falling back on my plan of “drop and run”, but then I find myself raising my fist to the door.

And I knock.

Baz I open the door. Simon’s standing on my front step, looking the same as he did the last time I saw him. Except this time he looks hesitant, like he’s expecting me to slam the door in his face.

I would be lying if I say I didn’t consider it, but curiosity wins out. I open the door wider and step aside. He walks past me, and I try not to wince as he tracks mud onto the rug.

His hair is flat, like he’s been running his hands through it too many times. His cheeks are flushed and he’s breathing hard. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he’d just been running. He’s wearing grey joggers and a blue t-shirt. He looks cold. I want to warm him up. Want to wrap him up in my arms and hold him close, sit in front of the fire and–

“How did you find me?” it comes out harsher than intended, but I’m beyond curious (and slightly annoyed). How did he find me? I never even gave him my number, much less any information that could be used to find this address. He doesn’t even know my last name.

“Google.”

“Simon,” I say, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

He grins. “You forgot something.”

“Where is it?” I ask, looking around for the bag. The sooner he’s gone, the better. Never mind that I want him to stay. Never mind that I want to kiss him with a ferocity that hasn’t gone away since that night. Never mind that it’s all I’ve thought about; that I’d imagined this moment over and over.

He’s way too close, as usual. Close enough for me to smell him: apples and smoke and something else I’ve never been able to identify. I wonder if his boss knows he’s here. I wonder if I should send him away. I wonder if I’d be able to. I just want to kiss him, then tell him to go.

“You forgot something,” Simon repeats.

And then he kisses me.

maraudersfap

I NEED MORE OF THIS AU!!! WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

goldfishsunglasses

i might be persuaded to write a third part ;)

#100 notes and i will #kidding #i'll probably end up doing it anyway but motivation is nice :p