Snowbaz Fic Requests

89 Percent

Summary: Baz got a B on a paper, and it's up to Simon to cheer his boyfriend up. Expect kisses and cuteness.

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I was sitting on the couch and had just started reading when the door burst open, and Baz strode over to me immediately. When he walked like this—brusque and determined—I knew right away that something was wrong. I put the book down on my lap and gave him a smile, but he didn't even look at me.

He dropped his bag on the coffee table and plopped down on the couch beside me. He still didn't say anything, just sighed and put his head back on the wall.

"... So how was school?" I prodded.

Baz groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"That bad, huh?"

Baz just groaned again.

"Guess I'll just keep reading, then," I said, putting my feet up on the table (loudly, for effect). I pulled out my brand-new paperback Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. My psychologist thought reading about another magical world would help me. I didn't really understand her logic, but I didn't mind the book so far.

I hadn't read more than a sentence when Baz plucked the book out of my hands.

"Ready to talk now?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Is Penny around?" He glanced at the book but set it behind him.

I blinked. "No...?"

He leaned in, as if to be sure, and said quietly, "Snow. I got a B."

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. "Is that all?"

"Did you hear me? I. Got. A B!"

"It's your first semester," I pointed out. "At a new school, a uni, in fact."

"I've never gotten a B before," he said, and I got the feeling that he wasn't really listening.

"Baz, you're the most brilliant person I know," I told him, but it didn't seem to reach him at all. He sighed and leaned his head on the wall again.

I grabbed his bag and started sifting through it, until I found a familar gray folder. I opened it up and sifted past a couple of stapled packets until I found the offending one. It was a five-paged deal, with a red 89 at the top, and the words, great job Basil, scribbled across the top in barely-legible cursive.

"This is a B-plus," I informed Baz, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Don't remind me."

"Your teacher literally wrote great job on it."

"The hell does she know?"

I sighed and set the folder down on the table, then scooted over, nestling against Baz. He made no movement except to rest his head on mine. I tilted my head up and pressed gentle kisses to his jaw until I felt him smile.

"Cut it out, Snow," he grumbled. (He got like that sometimes—overly gruff to pretend like he wasn't eating up every moment of my affection. I loved it.)

"What are you really worried about?" I mumbled into his neck.

He turned his body towards me and ran his hand over the inside of my wing, close to my back. He nuzzled the top of my head and mumbled, "Failing."

"Just from one B? That's not an F, or even a D, and it's a great grade, actually, and besides, you normally get As—"

"That's not..." he sighed again. "What if I can't make it outside of Watford?"

I pulled my head away to squint at him. "Baz?"

He turned away; just enough that we couldn't make eye contact anymore. "I don't know, just—what if I was only smart at Watford?"

"That's ridiculous," I said softly. "What about all those As?"

He huffed. "Do you know how long I spent on that paper, Snow?"

"I—"

"No, I didn't want to tell you how hard I've been working, but it was never like this at Watford, and I'm only in five classes, and one of them is bloody chemistry, which, for some reason, I need to graduate from a school of economics?"

"Well, it's hard for everyone and—"

"But I'm a Pitch. Pitches are good at everything. You've taken history classes at Watford—ever hear of a Pitch who flunked out of uni?"

This time Baz didn't let me get even a word out.

"My family was always on me about making an heir, about me being the last of the Pitches—last of the bloody Pitches! Well, that doesn't matter anymore, the Pitch name won't mean anything when I flunk out of uni and end up, I don't know, in an alley in London somewhere, putting on magic shows for a living, and even you won't want anything to—"

And before he could do anymore, I jumped on him. "Stop talking," I demanded before kissing him. If he wasn't going to let me talk, this was the only way I was going to distract him.

He immediately shut up and pulled me closer. I climbed on top of him (pausing only to uncrinkle my wing), and he lay down on the couch, keeping me pressed against his body (which I was absolutely fine with).

After a while of this (and after at least one of us was shirtless) I stopped, breathless, and rested my head on his chest.

"Sorry I freaked out," he mumbled, his fingers wrapped in my hair.

I wrote Baz on his chest with the tip of my pointer finger.

"I can't imagine how much stress you're under," I said softly.

He was silent for a moment, and I listened to his heartbeat. "It's not so bad. The worst part is that it's so different."

"From Watford?"

"It's weird not having you around," he admitted. "I always start to talk to you but... you're not there."

I laughed. "I do the same. We never talked when we lived together, though. It's weird."

"Do you think Penny would mind it if I..." he shook his head and trailed off.

I looked up at him, resting my chin on his chest.

"What?"

"Forget it, Snow."

"Tell me or I'll bite you," I threatened, but there was a smile plastered on my face.

He gave me a weak smile. "Do you think Penny would mind if I stayed... here?"

I crinkled my eyebrows down. "Why would Penny care if you slept over?"

He bit his lip. "I meant more... permanently."

I sat up straight in alarm. "You want to move in?"

"Is that... okay?" he asked, looking nervous and generally un-Baz like.

But I was already jumping up from the couch.

"We can make dinner every night, and do our laundry together, and cuddle in the mornings, and—"

"Snow," he said, sitting up now.

I stopped and stared at him, feeling my face heat up. "Y...yes?"

He grinned. "I love you."