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Of Colds and Train Rides

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Simon sneezed, almost dropping the bundle of books he clasped to his chest with one hand, the other holding onto the rail above his head in an attempt to keep himself upright (Crowley, he was sicker then he thought).
His breath was rasping in his chest, his head spinning (yep, definitely sicker than when he left).
The train braked suddenly, sending his books - and him - flying into the person stood in front of him.
“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” He bent to pick up his books, only looking up when the stranger spoke in a cool tone, “It’s ok, hey, uh, why don’t you lean on me? I uh, saw you swaying earlier, you look pretty sick.”
(Oh Gods, the stranger was Hot) “I uh, erm” Simon stammered “Uhm”
“It would be better for you, and everyone around you, if you didn’t go flying every time the train stops.” The stranger interrupted dryly.
Simon blushed “Uhm, are you sure? I mean it’s only a few stops till I get off and...” he trailed off into a fit of coughing
“It’s fine, come on.” The stranger looked at the floor. (Was he blushing?)
Simon moved forward awkwardly leaning his head on the man’s shoulder (he wasn’t Hot, he was Beautiful)
“I’m Baz, by the way. Just so you know who you’re leaning on.” The man, Baz, (Crowley even his name was nice) sounded awkward, talking into Simon’s hair.
At some point his arm had come up around Simon’s waist, holding him in place.
“Simon. Uh, I mean, my name is Simon, not that I’m just saying it or anything. Oh Crowley I’m rambling sorry.” He blushed harder (lucky his face was hidden in Baz’s coat.) (Aleister Crowley he even smelt good, like cedar wood and something else he couldn’t quite identify through his blocked nose.)
“I guessed.” His formally cool voice sounded, warmer? (It must be his cold messing with his head.) “How are you feeling?”
“Uh, better, I think.” Simon said moving away slightly, swaying “o-okay maybe not” he gasped, Baz grabbed him just before he fell into the lady behind them.
“Christ, Simon” (Crowley, he better not be falling for him.)
“Falling for you already, huh” Simon giggled. (Shit) “Oh, fuck.” He buried his face into Baz’s shoulder, before leaning away again to cough. He looked up, eyes watering slightly, Baz was staring at him, face flushed slightly. (He was blushing.) “Uh, sorry? That slipped out, it must be this filter.” Simon blushed, again. (Jesus, what was with all this blushing?) Baz seemed to gather himself, grabbing Simon’s waist again as he swayed. “This your stop?” he asked as the intercom announced a station.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah it is”
“It’s mine too, do you need help with your books?”
“Uhm, I don’t think so. I don’t live too far from the station.” He was going to start rambling soon if Baz didn’t interrupt
“I’ll help you anyway, you look seriously ill” Simon sneezed as if to prove his point “Uhm, ok. Thanks.” (Shit, he was blushing. Not smooth, Simon, not smooth)
“It’s no problem.” (Baz was smiling; it just made him look even more beautiful.)
Simon stepped away slightly, Baz’s arm falling away. (Pity, it was nice.) Just as the doors opened
“Here let me take some of them.” Baz offered as they stepped towards the doors. “Oh, uh. Thanks”, (Still stuttering, damnit) he said, passing a few to Baz.
“Uhm, do you want to, uh, hold my hand? It’s just you’re, uh, still swaying a lot.” (Baz was stuttering, and blushing, it was adorable) “Oh, uh. Yeah, thanks.” Simon blushed, taking Baz’s hand. (It was cool, and soft. Pianist fingers.)
They didn’t talk for the rest of the walk, apart from Simon giving directions, and Baz swearing once when he slipped almost pulling Simon with him.
Then, they were at Simon’s door. “Uh, here it is” Simon said awkwardly looking at Baz, their hands still joined “Uhm, shall I take those?” he said, gesturing towards the books Baz still held. “Oh, uh. Yeah.” Baz stammered handing them to him. (This couldn’t be it, how did he thank him for helping him?)
“Uh, do you want to come in and have a cup of tea?” (Classic, very British)
Baz blushed, despite the cold weather “uh, okay, yeah. Thanks.”
Simon opened to door, and they both stepped into the warmth. (Penny was out, good. She would only worry otherwise.) “Just dump your coat there.” Simon said gesturing towards the sofa, after placing his books on the already crowded table, noticing Baz standing awkwardly in the doorway. (Still beautiful, if Penny caught them now he would never hear the end of it)
Baz shrugged out of his long, black coat, draping it across the arm of the sofa.
“Uh, sit down, I guess. What tea do you like?”
“Earl Grey, if you have it?” Baz smiled softly “I can help make it, it’s no trouble.”
“No! no, it’s fine, just sit down. I’ll be back in a minute.” (Simon had a gorgeous boy in his sitting room, what was he doing?)
Instead of thinking about it, he busied himself with filling the kettle up and getting himself some Paracetamol. When he came back through with two steaming mugs, Baz looked slightly more relaxed, he had taken off his beanie and Simon could see his long, dark hair. (Oh shit, it framed his face so well)
“Uh, here you go” he said, passing Baz a mug that said ‘Number 1 Roommate’ on it. (Joke gift from Penny, in reality he was the world’s worst roommate, always leaving dirty socks everywhere.) (He swears they aren’t his when he sees them again though.) Baz raised an eyebrow, but didn’t mention it “Thanks” he said instead. “Have you taken some medicine for your cold? You look a little better.”
“Yeah, just Paracetamol, I’ll have to get Penny to get some more stuff in.” (He was over sharing, shit.)
“Is Penny your roommate then?” Baz asked his voice softer than before. (He looked almost happy.)
“Uh, yeah. She’s at work till five though.” (He was not staring at Baz’s smile.)
Baz moved closer, his hair falling in his face. Simon reached out and brushed it away without thinking. He pulled back, blushing furiously once he realised what he’d done.
“I, uh, erm” Baz was looking at him, cheeks flushed (blushing, Simon realised. Cute.) “Sorry?”
“It’s uh, fine.” Baz stuttered, settling back against the sofa cushions. (Nearer to Simon, he noticed. Almost touching.) “I just realised you don’t know my last name.” Simon blurted after staring at Baz for a moment
“It’s Snow, my name I mean. My last name is Snow, Simon Snow” Baz smiled, looking up at him
“Mine’s Pitch” Simon stared at him. (It fitted, it fitted so well)
“Baz Pitch, uh. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Simon Snow.”