Snowbaz one shots!

A night out

Simon Snow felt distinctly out of place.

The bar was crowded, noisy, and dimly lit, with pulsing music thumping through the walls. It was the sort of place that smelled like spilled beer and too many people pressed together in too small a space. Normally, Simon would avoid it like the plague. But tonight, there he was, standing awkwardly by the entrance, trying not to look like a deer caught in headlights.

Baz had dragged him here, insisting they needed a night out. "You're practically a shut-in," Baz had said. "You need to experience life beyond Chinese takeaway and daytime TV."

Simon wasn't entirely convinced, but he was tired of feeling like a ball of nerves coiled too tightly to ever unwind. And when Baz had looked at him with those stormy grey eyes, eyebrows raised expectantly, Simon had caved like a castle wall under siege.

So now they were here, in a loud, dimly lit bar that felt both too big and too small at the same time.

Baz was in his element, naturally. He stood at the bar, his black hair falling artfully across his forehead, his perfectly tailored black coat looking like it was made for this place (and probably had been). Even in a crowd of witches, vampires, and other magical oddities, Baz managed to stand out. He turned to Simon with two drinks in his hands, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Relax, Snow," Baz said, handing him a pint. "You look like you're waiting for someone to attack you."

Simon grumbled under his breath, taking the drink. "Well, excuse me for not being comfortable in places like this." He took a cautious sip of the beer, grimacing at the bitterness.

Baz chuckled softly, the sound nearly drowned out by the music. "You're impossible," he said, shaking his head. "We're supposed to be having fun."

"Right," Simon muttered, trying to relax his shoulders. He knew Baz was trying, and the least he could do was try, too. They were supposed to be having a night off—no magic, no monsters, no one trying to kill them. Just them, on a sort-of date that they hadn't officially labeled yet.

Baz leaned against the bar, his eyes gleaming in the low light as he watched Simon. "Come on, Snow," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Surely you can handle one drink."

Simon huffed but took another sip, managing not to grimace this time. "Fine, see? I'm drinking. I'm having fun."

Baz laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and Simon's chest did that weird flip it always did whenever Baz laughed like that. He hated that it still happened, even now, when they were... whatever they were.

He was trying to focus on his drink, on the comforting weight of Baz's presence next to him, but his nerves were still frayed from everything they'd been through lately. It was like every time he let his guard down, something terrible happened.

"What's going on in that thick skull of yours?" Baz asked, tilting his head to study Simon. His voice was soft enough that it cut through the noise of the bar, as if they were in their own little bubble.

Simon shrugged, staring down at his half-empty pint. "Just... thinking."

Baz rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's always a good sign."

"I mean it," Simon muttered. He could feel Baz's eyes on him, the weight of that piercing gaze. "It's just... hard, you know? Trying to be normal."

Baz's expression softened, his teasing smile slipping into something more serious. "You don't have to force it, Simon," he said quietly. "No one expects you to be normal. Least of all me."

Simon's shoulders slumped. He took a longer drink, draining the rest of his pint. "Yeah, well, it'd be nice to not feel like a mess for once." He put the glass down a bit too hard, the thud lost in the clamor of the bar.

Baz's eyes narrowed as if he was trying to read between the lines of what Simon was saying. Then he let out a small sigh. "Come on," he said, reaching for Simon's hand. "Let's get out of here."

Simon blinked. "But you said we needed a night out."

"Yeah, well, this place is rubbish," Baz said, his voice gentler than usual. "I know a better spot."

Before Simon could protest, Baz was pulling him toward a side door, weaving through the crowd with ease. Simon stumbled after him, his heart thudding for an entirely different reason now. He could feel the warmth of Baz's hand around his, solid and steady, and it was enough to make his head spin more than the beer.

The air outside was crisp and cold, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the bar. Baz didn't let go of Simon's hand until they were around the corner, away from the noise. The street was quiet, lit by the soft glow of lampposts.

Baz turned to face him, his breath clouding in the chilly air. "I thought maybe being in a crowd would help, but I should have known better," he said, his tone uncharacteristically apologetic.

"It's not your fault," Simon said quickly. "I wanted to come. For you."

Baz's expression softened, and for a moment, they just stood there, the silence between them thick and charged. "You don't have to do everything for me, you know," Baz said softly. "I'd be perfectly happy just... sitting on your couch and eating terrible Chinese food."

Simon huffed out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, I figured you deserved more than that."

Baz took a step closer, so close that Simon could see the moonlight reflected in his grey eyes. "I don't care about any of that, Simon," Baz said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "All I want is to be with you."

Simon's heart stuttered. He could feel the warmth of Baz's breath on his face, could smell the faint scent of his cologne. Without thinking, he reached out, threading his fingers through Baz's.

"I'm trying," Simon said, his voice low and rough. "I just... I don't know what I'm doing half the time."

Baz squeezed his hand gently, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. "Neither do I, Snow," he admitted. "But we'll figure it out together."

Simon's chest tightened, but this time it wasn't with anxiety. It was something warmer, something that felt like hope. He leaned in, letting his forehead rest against Baz's. For a moment, they just stood there, the cold night air wrapping around them like a blanket, the world reduced to the small space between them.

"I don't know how to do this," Simon whispered, his voice trembling.

Baz tilted his chin up, brushing his lips against Simon's in a soft, fleeting kiss. "Then let's not worry about it," Baz murmured against his lips. "Let's just be here. Right now."

Simon let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he leaned into the kiss. It was soft and slow, a promise that they had time. Time to figure it out, time to heal, time to just be together, even if they didn't have all the answers.

For once, Simon let himself believe that was enough.