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He likes them scrambled.

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Baz

{Chat: You and Snow}

Chat Started: 12:13pm

Snow

Are you free today?

You

I can see you for an hour at about 2?

Snow

Okay. Coffee? I can bring you one.

You

Sure. You know where my office is?

Snow

I’ll find out from Penny. Any requests?

You

Pumpkin Mocha Breve

Snow

That sounds disgusting mate.

You

I will not be hearing this from a man who eats spoonfuls of butter as a snack.

Snow

Fair enough. See you at 2 ❤️

You

❤️

Chat Ended: 12:47pm

-

{Chat: You and Snow 💜}

Chat Started: 6:34pm

You

How do you feel about horror films?

Snow 💜

What kind of horror? Slasher? Paranormal? Zombies?

You

Vampires?

Snow 💜

Vampires are stunning mate.

You kinda look like a vampire.

You

How do I look like a vampire?

Snow 💜

It’s the hair.

And the sneer.

And the elegance thing.

Btw you look hot in a suit.

You

Thanks. You should try wearing one too.

Snow 💜

To a cinema date with you?

(I’m just guessing that’s where this was leading?)

You

No. Not to a ‘cinema date’ with me.

Maybe to a dinner some point though

Snow 💜

Are you going to treat me to a fancy restaurant?

You

You should treat me, “Chosen One.”

Snow 💜

Do you watch my show?!

You

Anyway.

Cinema tonight? ❤️

Snow 💜

I’d love to ❤️

But we’re not skating over the you watching my show thing.

Chat Ended: 7:03pm

-

{Chat: You and Simon ❄️💜}

Chat Started: 3:56pm

Simon ❄️💜

Dinner reservation at 8 tomorrow.

You

Who said I was free?

Simon ❄️💜

Should I offer it to someone else? Thought you’d like the excuse to see me in a suit.

You

Fine, fine. I’ll be available.

Simon ❄️💜

Thought you might be.

Chat Ended: 4:01pm

 

-

 

It’s been three weeks since Simon sent that tweet into the universe and pulled us together. Three weeks of seeing him nearly every day. Sometimes for only an hour where he stops by at my office on work days (Fiona loves that and takes great pleasure in teasing me endlessly). We’ve been on a couple more official dates, the cinema, an aquarium, a dinner at some fancy restaurant – Simon Salisbury looks absolutely stunning in a grey suit, I thought I was going to pass out when I saw him. And when we go back to our separate homes, we stay up all night on the phone like we’re in high school.

It’s lovely. He’s lovely.

But if I don’t kiss him soon, I’m going to set myself on fire.

I do get it. I think he’s wanted to kiss me on the few times we’ve met up – but with his fame and my identity being leaked ridiculously quickly, we seem to be getting followed. Everywhere.

Sometimes it’s just fans who want a photo with him and then ask whether we’re together while giggling. (Friends, Simon tells them, but he always looks at me sheepishly when he does so). Other times it’s gossip magazines and photographers who are trying to get the latest scoop on their column by catching us doing something that might sell.

Snogging, I suppose.

Simon hasn’t addressed the tweet publicly since he posted it, despite the new constant speculation on his sexuality. He’s barely been active on twitter actually, but I get why. Every time you search his name, it’s the demand for answers on our relationship, his relationship with Agatha, and all other types of hate comments that come from the uneducated bigots of the world. Some people are calling it a publicity stunt, to get his name bigger, to get a different audience to watch the show.

I’m getting my fair share of hate but it’s significantly less than it was at the beginning. Still tiring, so I can’t imagine how Simon feels when it’s so constant.

I am having so much fun with him, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed the company of another human being this much in my life. But it’s a pain. We have to tip toe around everything, because actually moving further than hand holding and dates that we can pass off as friendly outings might have a genuine impact on his career and his following. I’m not prepared to bring that up to him after three weeks – I don’t want him to feel pressured to do anything, but I want to know if this is leading anywhere.

Crowley, I hope it is.

 


 

 

Simon Salisbury ✓ @simonsnow

Season Premier of Wayward Son coming in two weeks! Set the date!

48k Retweets 216k Likes

 

replies

🧡 Simon Snows Wife 🧡 @achosenone

I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU IN ACTION AGAIN 🤩🤩🤩

 

Annabelle ‘Salisbury’ ❄️ @snowmansbride

Do Seb and Annabelle finally get together in this?!

 

Gareth Bronx @beltbuckle

I’m so excited.

 

Liza Vinny @hydraulicx

Does Seb finally get his wings back??? #waywardsonfinalseason

 

Devyn @brookylynalive

You really going to pretend the last three weeks didn’t happen huh?

 

Beth | #TEAM AGATHA @loveawellbelove

Are you and Agatha back together now?

 

Emilia Jones @watfordflyfe

Is this you and Baz? [image attached]

Phillipa Stanton @snowstarlove

That’s clearly not them.

🧡 Simon Snows Wife 🧡 @achosenone

I think it is! They look so cute!

Kristy Smith @fthemage

I really hope they’re a couple!

Abigail Jane Doe @chaptersixtyone

I think they’re just friends.

Rhys Jackson @adoublecameo

Didn’t you see that picture on Fiona Pitch’s insta? He wasn’t looking at him like he was ‘just a friend’

Kris the Man @pizzadelivery101

Seriously. Look how happy our boy looks! [image attached]

🧡 Simon Snows Wife 🧡 @achosenone

It’s adorable!

 


 

Simon

{Chat: You and Baz 🤤🥰}

Chat Started: 2:32am

You

Hey

Are you awake?

Baz 🤤🥰

I am now.

You

Sorry for waking you.

Baz 🤤🥰

Yes. Well, why did you?

You

Can I see you?

Baz 🤤🥰

You saw me earlier.

You

I want to see you again.

Baz 🤤🥰

Why?

You

I just

Need to talk

To someone.

And you’re

You make me feel okay

with talking

with words.

Baz 🤤🥰

Do you want to come over?

You

Please.

Baz 🤤🥰

Alright. I’ll put the kettle on.

Chat Ended: 2:40am

 

-

 

I definitely didn’t think the first time I came back to Baz’s apartment would be at three the morning. Honestly, before I would have said it’s shocking that anyone would have woken up and offered me comfort when I messaged them at a ridiculous hour. I’m not surprised with him though. These three weeks getting to know him have been proper educational.

Don’t get me wrong. First and foremost, Baz Pitch is a tosser.

He’s more vain than anyone I’ve met in my entire life, which didn’t surprise me – even though in our first two meet ups he was dressed down (I prefer him that way, messy and relaxed. He told me to sod off when I said that to him though. That’s okay, he looks good in his posh get up too). He’s also blunt, and pretty damn ruthless. He’ll speak his mind without care of who he offends or how people will see him, sneers a lot too. He’s spoiled and arrogant and a complete prat when he wants to be.

But… Baz is kind.

He’s open-minded, and willing to accept that there are parts of my world that he’ll never understand because he’s never been without money, never had to leave the safety of his parents privilege. He listens attentively, revaluates accordingly. And he’ll educate me, patiently explaining about things I might be ignorant about. Baz is the type to hold my hand in horror films if I look a little frightened and order himself a dessert at dinner even when he doesn’t want any because he can tell I’m still hungry but I’m embarrassed to ask for an extra portion.

Baz is clever, and funny, and a genuinely decent human being. And I’m so, so crazy for him.

That’s what kind of set me off, really. My feelings for him, I mean. Because I’m not allowed to be with him and have privacy. Because I can’t kiss the bloke without fear of someone hiding in bushes and taking our pictures, having his face published all over some gossip spread. He doesn’t like my world, but I can’t detach myself from it now. Baz could vanish, become inconsequential if I left him alone, instead of have these constant questions thrown at him.

But I’m not like Baz. I’m selfish. I want him and my career.

Penny says I’m stupid. That he would have just ignored me if he couldn’t handle it. But what if he’s just too nice -

I don’t realise I’ve knocked until the door opens and I see Baz there, wearing oversized silk pyjamas, his hair loose and wavy. His eyes look tired, but his expression is filled with concern. I care for him so much, it actually hurts my chest. He reaches for my wrist and gently pulls me inside, closing the door quietly behind him. We stare at each other, before Baz breaks the silence.

“Do you want a hug?”

I’ve said it before, but this man always knows the right thing to say.

I want to be able to kiss him in public, take him to nice places, be happy with him. I don’t want to give him up, even though he’s suffering through it too.

“Yes please.”

Baz doesn’t say anything else after that, just wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me to him. We’re close enough in height that I can comfortable rest my chin on his shoulder and he sighs in approval when I put my arms loosely around his waist. He’s sort of cold, but I think I run warm enough for the both of us and I move my hand absent-mindedly to stroke at his back in an attempt to heat him up. He clutches me a little tighter at that, so I guess he likes it.

I do, too. I feel safe. I feel right.

I don’t know how long we stay in each others arms, or when Baz moves slightly so he can run his fingers through my hair lazily. I know he’s exhausted because he’s beginning to slouch a little into me, but he doesn’t complain and doesn’t let go. I’m hit, not for the first time this night, that I really am being selfish. Because despite all of his nuisances, Baz is so, so good. He’s comforting me without even pushing for answers, keeping himself awake to be here with me. It doesn’t make my guilt any easier, but I can push it aside when he treats me like this.

When I hear his breathing become a little heavier, I do pull away. Baz looks lost for a moment before he blinks a few times and focuses on my face. Then he smiles, the smallest thing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

That’s what I came over for. I should want to talk about it. I should talk to him in particular about it. But talking means this could be over. Telling him would mean admitting that I’m scared that he’ll get mad at the attention. Talking to him about it might end in him confessing he can’t handle all of this attention that I’m bringing him. And just having that in the air? I don’t know how we could move forward from that, not really.

I’m not prepared for that.

“Not really.”

Baz nods understandingly because of course he does.

“Go sit down, find something on the television. I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

I watch him walk rather gracelessly (for him, anyway) towards the kitchen, tripping over his own feet once and groaning to himself. I do as he says, making my way to the unreasonably large sofa and throwing myself onto it. I pick up his remote and start skimming through shows as I hear the kettle boiling. Can’t believe he isn’t using milk for hot chocolate, but I’ll let it slide.

Television isn’t exactly interesting at nearly 3.30 in the morning so I go onto his recordings instead. Baz has already said he doesn’t like television, so I have to wonder what he has there. Probably some documentaries or some murder mysteries or -

That’s my show.

That’s the entire first season of my show.

“Hey, Snow. Do you want Marshmallows?” Baz takes a few steps out of the kitchen, eyes on me. I look at him with genuine glee at my discovery, and his expression shifts from confusion to absolute horror as he sees what I’ve got on the screen. “This… it’s not what it looks like.”

He charges over to take the remote. I jump off the sofa and hold it behind me, “You do watch my show!”

“Give that to me!”

I hold him back by his shoulder and grin at him.

“But Baz, that’s my show. That one you think is rubbish.”

Baz gives up on trying to grab the remote from me, but he still looks utterly mortified. His gaze is going from me, to the TV, to the ground all in quick succession, like he isn’t sure what to do with himself. “It’s… Niall likes it. So I recorded it… for him.”

“Uh huh.” I say, disbelieving. “Niall doesn’t have his own television to record my show on then?”

“I-”

“You’re my fan!”

“Absolutely not.”

“You like me.”

I blurt this part out unintentionally. I don’t regret it because it causes him to splutter and cover his face behind his hands, groaning. He doesn’t deny it, just lets out a miserable sounding sigh. He looks so flustered, so caught up. His hair is a mess, his pyjamas aren't ironed; he’s the complete opposite of his usual composed self. Baz Pitch at his most open. I want him to be mine so badly.

I don’t need to think about what to do after that.

I drop the remote on the sofa and reach for his hands, pulling them away from his face. He stares at me, eyes slightly narrowed and a pout on his lips about being caught out. It just makes me smile.

“I think you’re wicked.” I tell him.

I get a brief moment to see his expression soften completely before I lean forward and kiss him.

 

Baz

I’m screaming on the inside. Because finally, finally.

I’m also dead on my feet. I’ve barely slept in the last three days between deadlines and staying up to talk to this miracle boy in front of me. I’d only just managed to fall asleep when Simon texted me earlier but I’ve never been more grateful to my awful text tone for waking me up. He’s here, in my flat, cupping my face and kissing me so gently I think I might actually cry. And wouldn’t that just be embarrassing.

Not as embarrassing as Simon learning that I have his show saved, but look where it’s gotten me. I suppose I can’t complain.

My hands lace around the back of his neck so I can pull him a little closer and I feel him smiling against my lips. He’s so warm, I want to lose myself in this completely. This… this is so innocent. I feel like a teenager having my first kiss or something, and such a simple gesture shouldn’t make me feel absolutely giddy with excitement.

Here I am, trying to control the shiver in my limbs so he can’t tell how desperately I want this.

He pulls away, and I unintentionally whine at the lack of contact. Fabulous.

He doesn’t say anything, just strokes his thumbs over my cheekbones, “Is this okay?”

“More than.” I respond, and I sound breathy even to my own ears.

Simon smiles in approval and kisses me again.

 

Simon

I don’t know when we made it onto the sofa, limbs tangled to keep us both stable. I don’t know which one of us deepened the kiss, or who’s really in control of it. I don’t know what we’re meant to do from here – I do know that kissing him is the greatest feeling in the world. It’s beyond the typical rush you get when you make out with someone new, when you get those shivers up your spine because their fingers touch you in a certain way. I’m pouring everything I’m feeling into kissing him, and it’s a lot. I hope he can understand it.

We haven’t even moved on from snogging. I know I’ll want too, one day, but I don’t feel any need to rush this, to rush us. He’s kept his hands near my neck or hair, although his grip has grown weaker over time. I know he’s tired, but he’s trying to match my enthusiasm. That’s a compliment in itself.

I know I could die happy kissing Baz Pitch.

He even tries to carry on after he yawns into my mouth, but I take that as my cue to move away. He doesn’t whinge like he did last time, but he does blink up at me, eyes glazed over. He reaches to kiss me again anyway. I push him back gently and he sighs in frustration before giving up and pressing his face into my neck, laying light, lazy kisses there instead.

“I like you so much,” I whisper to him, and it feels like the biggest understatement I’ve ever made.

Baz pulls back slightly to smirk at me, but it loses some of its effect with how docile he looks, before he shuffles down and rests his head against my chest. He yawns again.

“You’re very distracting.” A murmur, but the tone is light, “Couldn’t even have the common courtesy to be a bad kisser.”

I try to pull him back up to kiss him again – to prove his point, I suppose. And because I’ll never grow tired of it, or the things he says that make me want him.

He moans and moves his chin on my chest to look up at me – rather petulant looking, actually. It’s cute. “I have to be up for work in four hours, so you’re going to have to stop kissing me. As criminal as that is.”

I grin and kiss his forehead instead.

“Alright then.”

“And because it’s your fault I’m so tired, you’re going to shut up and be my pillow.”

I laugh. “Am I?”

As an answer, he presses face back into my chest. I wrap my arms around him, pull him as close as I can. I want to feel his heartbeat against mine. He makes another annoyed noise, but I don’t think it’s genuine because his breathing evens out a couple of seconds after. I wait for a few moments, to see if he’ll see anything else but I can tell by the way his body relaxes against mine that he’s fallen asleep. He trusts me enough for this.

I trust him too.

 

-

 

I have a pain in my neck when I wake up, and I realise I’m lying awkwardly on Baz’s sofa. I’m more upset by the fact that Baz is no longer here, and I wonder how long I’ve been sleeping. I sit up and stretch my arms out, when I notice a glass of water on the coffee table and a note next to it. Of course, the bastard has calligraphy like hand-writing. He’s such a cliché.

 

Love,

I had to go to work. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.

I’ve left a key on the side in the kitchen, so just post it through the letterbox after you’ve locked up.

Thank you for being a good pillow

x

PS: Don’t eat all of my pastry products, you absolute nightmare.

 

-

 

{Chat: You & Baz ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ }

Chat started: 12:55pm

You

Can I bring you coffee?

Baz❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Dear God, you’re obsessed with me.

You

Completely.

Can I?

Baz❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Yeah. My office is always open for you.

Idiot.