Herbs and Spices // snowbaz

herbs and spices

Simon couldn't remember why or when he started hating Baz like he did—so vehemently and obsessively—and he'd throw a right fit if anyone asked him about it ("I don't know Penny, ok I just do, so drop it!") Over six years, his position had softened occasionally. He'd find himself slipping into being almost... tolerant of the other boy. And he knew how to wheedle at Baz like no one else. And Baz knew how to make him go off like no one else.

And Baz wasn't any clearer on his feelings for Simon. He'd initially had good intentions (as good as his intentions ever were) but they were quelled when he met Simon Snow, the Chosen One. Simon walked with his shoulders slumped and his fingers twitching by his side, like he was itching for a chance to draw the Mages Sword. From the beginning, when Baz had introduced himself to Simon, his hand outstretched in the warm hall of Watford, Baz felt calm under Snow's gaze. And when Snow, even under all the prophesising about how he was the Chosen One, proved useless unless he was unleashing wave after wave of immeasurable power, Baz felt the initial annoyance and hatred bubble under his skin. And now, six years later, six years full of bickering and duels, of fights and yelling, both of them going for each other's throats; he hated him because he couldn't hate him, not really.

'Sage?' Simon called from his spot sitting on his giant bed in their room.

Baz looked up from his schoolbooks and waited for Snow to say more but huffed when he didn't. 'Snow, I know you're daft but did you just say "Sage" for no bloody reason?'

'I mean it got your attention didn't it? I was just wondering if you'd respond to any herb as if it was your name. Sage is pretty similar to Basil.'

Baz cranked around in his seat and squinted at Snow. 'What are you going on about?'

Simon shrugged. 'Just testing a hypothesis I had.'

'I didn't know you knew what a hypothesis was, you git.'

'Oh Mint, I know plenty.'

Baz rolled his eyes and turned back to his books. 'Alastair Almighty you're an idiot.'

Simon smiled at Baz's back and laid his head back against his pillow, listening to Baz's pen scratching against paper.

************

I wanted to come back and rewrite these stories—looking through them again, some of them are written... so badly. They won't be that different, because I don't have the motivation to write anything more about Simon and Baz but I do still love them and love a lot of these stories for the potential they have, so I thought I'd rework some!