If You Must

All That We Are Is Triumphant

Simon

I dunno what Penny's got planned, but I doubt it'll top the rest of my day so far. Even so, I can't wait.

Before today, I've been fine with waiting. I spent months waiting for Baz to get well again, and I was perfectly alright with that. Now, I feel completely restless. Hungry, almost. Impatient. For the wedding. For him. I want him desperately, and it's consuming me from the inside out. As we drive back to the flat, golden magic shimmers at my fingertips like a mirage.

Once we get inside, I think for a moment that the flat's empty. Penny's not in the sitting room, and I can't hear anything from the kitchen or either of the bedrooms. Maybe she's forgotten her promise of a surprise? It's not like Penny to forget things (though if she has forgotten, that means Baz and I have the flat all to ourselves...).

"Bunce?" Baz calls out, kicking off his sneakers. I do the same, leaning on him so I don't fall over while I pull off my shoes (it's happened before)(multiple times).

A soft clatter sounds from the kitchen. That must be where Penny is- unless we've got ourselves a burglar.

"Penny?" I shout, unbuttoning my coat.

"In here!" She replies from the kitchen. Not a burglar then. Baz and I start to make our way towards her.

She sits on the table, a bottle of champagne in each hand. Her familiar face sparkles with a brilliant grin.

"Congratulations on graduating from hell, Basil!" She cheers. Baz smiles at her.

"Thanks, Bunce, you really know how to make a boy blush," he teases in reply. Penny winks at him, then turns to me, an impish gleam in her eye (believe me, I've fought imps before-- they're nasty)(and seem to have some weird sort of fetish for corn chips)(but that's a different story).

"Do you reckon we should share with Simon?" she asks. Baz turns to face me, flashing me a debonair grin that sends shivers up my spine. A few golden sparks hiss off of my fingertips (I think Baz sees; that grin turns purely deviant).

"I suppose we could share..." he concedes, with one of those trademark sneers.

"You'd better," I warn good-naturedly, "I won't let you hear the end of it if you don't." Let him make what he will of that. To my utter delight, Baz blushes (as much as a vampire can blush).

"All right, enough flirting you too. Why flirt when you can drink?" Penny intercedes. I laugh, and a deep chuckle rumbles from Baz.

"You've just described my entire adolescence in one sentence, Bunce."

"Glad to be of assistance." Penny pours us flutes of the sparkling golden wine. I've never really had champagne-- none nice enough to taste like much more than carbon-infused white wine. This stuff, however... it's like tasting my new magic. Golden and light and effervescent. I quite like it.

The three of us finish off the first bottle before anyone says anything worth much thought. When the lazy conversation drifts to an end, Penny voices what's obviously been on her mind all day.

"So, when are we going to start planning?" She asks, her glass halfway to her lips. Baz and I exchange a look.

"Tomorrow, I suppose..." Baz conjectures. I shake my head, setting down my nearly-empty flute of liquid magic.

"No, let's not start tomorrow." Penny raises her eyebrows, and Baz lowers his, looking mildly offended. I raise my hands in surrender. "No, this isn't a bad idea, hear me out. Today's Friday, yeah? Let's wait the weekend, and start all the plotting on Monday. Give us a bit of time to breathe-- I mean, Baz only just finished physical therapy."

My fiancé's face softens, all signs of hurt leaving it.

"That's a good idea, Si. Let's wait the weekend," he agrees, placing his hand over mine. I intertwine our fingers, squeezing his hand. Penny snorts.

"Have it your way, then. If it were my wedding, I'd want to start planning right away." I grin at her.

"Speaking of which, when are you going to propose to Micah?" I tease, knowing it'll hit a nerve. Penny's cheeks immediately blaze, and she scowls at me.

"Anytime I feel like it, thank you very much." Baz laughs, and I raise my glass in a toast.

"Well, then, I propose a toast. To finding our someones, yeah?" They raise their glasses, grinning (slightly drunkenly).

"To finding our someones."

---

Baz takes me to his flat for the night.

As I'm rinsing the toothpaste out of my mouth, he comes up behind me, wrapping those pale arms around my waist. His new scar gleams paper-white in the fluorescent lighting. His lips brush against the back of my neck, softer than a breath of wind. I lean into him, closing my eyes.

"You never did answer me..." He murmurs. Those cold fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt, making me shiver.

"About what?" I still don't open my eyes, savouring the feeling of his skin against mine.

"What you'd miss, other than my 'pretty face'..." His voice is practically a purr. Crowley, how does he do that? I feel as if my every molecule has been set aflame.

A smirk settles on my lips, and I turn in his arms so we're chest-to-chest. So I've got him right where I want him. Slowly-- agonisingly slowly-- I kiss him. At first, it's more of a question-- an invitation to play. And then... well, and then he silently says yes, jutting his chin into mine, and things get a lot more interesting.

Too soon, I pull away, trailing my fingers through his hair. Letting my lips drift down his jaw and onto the smooth skin of his neck, just below his ear. When I was younger, I wondered if the only reason why Baz grew his hair out long was to hide the bite marks I'd imagined were right here. But no, the skin is perfectly smooth and milky pale. Unblemished.

"I'd miss your lips," I murmur against his skin. Baz's neck arches, his hands tightening around my waist.

"And?" He breathes. Aleister fucking Crowley, how did I manage to end up with someone as hot as him? (Though I suppose that, being a vampire, he's technically cold, not hot).

"Your shoulders." I tug aside the collar of his pyjamas to kiss the body part in question. One hand  pushes through my hair in response.

"And?" Oh, yes, I am very much enjoying this game.

"And a few other things..." I finally pull away, looking him in the eye. There's a hungry, deviant glare there, turning the grey to shining chrome.

"Show me," he whispers, cupping my face in his hands, "Show me."

-------------------

Author's Note:

Here's my surprise for NevermoreTheRaven ! I was reading your new chapter of Light as Snow & Dark as Pitch while waiting for an appointment, and I got inspired by your 'I can't wear a helmet when I'm fighting Dark Creatures sent by the Humdrum' line, so I speed-doodled it :)