Snowbaz one shots!

A little too close

It had been one of those nights.

The kind that started with a few drinks at a local pub, casual and fun, nothing too wild. But somewhere between the first round and the fourth, Simon lost track of time. He wasn't sure when his inhibitions started to loosen, or when the room began to spin just a little bit more than usual, but now, as he leaned back against the worn leather of the booth, his mind felt pleasantly hazy.

Penny and Agatha had long since headed back to their hotel room, leaving Simon and Baz alone. Baz was always the more composed one, nursing his drink with a casual grace while Simon was... well, Simon. The alcohol had gone to his head a little quicker than expected. He wasn't drunk exactly, but it was clear to anyone who knew him that he was tipsy, bordering on the kind of loose-limbed, overly affectionate state that Simon often found himself in after a few too many.

Baz, however, was an enigma. He wasn't tipsy—never had been, not even once. But Simon couldn't help noticing how relaxed Baz seemed tonight. He was slouched in the booth, his usual sharp posture gone. His eyes, usually so guarded, were warm, reflecting the dim lighting of the pub.

And Simon? Simon was just feeling things.

"Hey, Baz," Simon said, a little too loud for the intimate setting, his voice slurring just slightly. "You're kind of amazing, you know that?"

Baz raised an eyebrow, a half-smirk playing at his lips. "I've been told."

"No, really." Simon leaned forward, his elbow hitting the table with a thud. "Like, really. You're this whole thing, right? Mysterious, brooding, too-cool-for-school... But, y'know, underneath it all, you're actually soft."

Baz didn't respond immediately, his gaze flickering down to Simon's face with a strange mix of amusement and something else Simon couldn't quite place. He was still, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if trying to decide what to do with Simon's strange compliment.

"You think I'm soft?" Baz asked after a pause, a hint of something playful in his voice.

Simon nodded vigorously, nearly tipping over the last of his drink. "Yeah! I mean, look at you! You're not all sharp edges like you pretend. You've got this..." He waved a hand vaguely, trying to articulate what he meant but not really succeeding. "This vibe."

Baz's smile grew, amused and curious. "A vibe?"

"Yeah," Simon said, a little too loudly now. "You know, like... a soft vibe. You're all smooth and quiet, but I bet... I bet you like soft things, don't you? Like, I bet you secretly like kittens or marshmallows." He giggled to himself, oblivious to how close he was to Baz now, his shoulder brushing against Baz's as he leaned further into the conversation.

Baz didn't push him away, but Simon noticed how he stiffened slightly, almost imperceptibly. He wasn't sure if it was because of the sudden proximity or the words themselves. Either way, Simon didn't notice. He was lost in his own little world, feeling warm all over.

"You know, Baz," Simon said, a little more seriously now, "sometimes I think you act like you don't care about anything, but I know you do. You care about stuff. You care about people." His voice softened. "I know you care about me."

There was a pause. Baz's eyes shifted, unreadable for a moment, before he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You've had too much to drink."

But Simon, in his hazy state, didn't seem to care. He wasn't thinking too hard about the words, just feeling them, feeling the space between him and Baz, suddenly too small. He wanted to close that distance, wanted to be closer, wanted... something.

He reached out without thinking, his hand brushing Baz's arm in an almost lingering touch. "You don't get it, Baz," Simon mumbled, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "I think you're the best thing that's happened to me, and I'm too drunk to not tell you that right now."

Baz's gaze softened just a little. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say got caught in the air as Simon leaned in closer, his face a little too near to Baz's. His breath was warm against the vampire's skin, and Simon realized, a second too late, how close they were.

"I'm... I'm not drunk enough for this," Simon muttered, pulling back quickly, but not before his hand brushed the back of Baz's neck. The contact was too familiar, too intimate. He froze, suddenly aware of the way Baz was looking at him—his eyes dark, but there was no hostility there. Just... a knowing.

"I think we should get going," Baz said, his voice steady, but there was something under it—a thread of tension Simon couldn't quite name.

Simon blinked, his mind scrambling. Did I just do that? He couldn't help the flush that crept up his neck, and he leaned back, trying to regain his composure. "Yeah. Yeah, right. Probably a good idea."

Baz slid out of the booth first, glancing over his shoulder at Simon, who was still a little lost in the haze of his own mind. "Come on, Snow. I'll make sure you get back to the hotel in one piece."

Simon followed, his mind buzzing. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the closeness of the moment, but something felt different now. His thoughts were jumbled, but the warmth from Baz's proximity made him feel... safe.

As they stepped out into the rain, Baz reached for the umbrella he had left at the table. His arm brushed Simon's in the most casual way, but it made Simon's heart skip. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but Baz beat him to it.

"Don't get too touchy with me, Snow," Baz said, a teasing note in his voice. "I'm not your teddy bear."

Simon blinked up at him, the words still fuzzy in his brain. "Who said I was touching you?"

Baz smirked, unfazed, and Simon felt the weight of his words settle into him. It was almost as if Baz was giving him a chance to pull back, to acknowledge that he had overstepped a boundary—if only just a little.

Simon managed a lopsided smile. "I'll try not to," he muttered, though he wasn't entirely sure if he meant it.

As they walked back to the hotel, the rain falling around them, Simon realized that maybe, just maybe, Baz was right. He'd crossed a line tonight. But it was a small line, wasn't it? Just a little bit of harmless affection, a little touch that wasn't too far, not yet.

But even if Simon didn't admit it aloud, he couldn't help the way his thoughts lingered on the kiss that hadn't happened, or the way Baz had pulled away—just enough to make him feel something different, something deeper.

Maybe tomorrow, once the fog of alcohol had lifted, he'd figure out exactly what he felt.

But for now, he was just happy to be close to Baz.

And Baz, despite everything, seemed willing to put up with him. For now.