Carry On SnowBaz

Anniversary (2)

Baz

"It's ready, isn't it?" Snow squeaks, sticking in front of the oven.

"Almost," I say. "The clock will ring in three minutes. That's usually the sign that something's ready."

"I never seriously believed that we could do it. I mean you never really cooked before. Me neither. And see - it really looks like a Christmas dinner." Snow smiles at me.

"Pre-Christmas dinner, but yeah. It looks delicious, indeed. And what's even more important, it smells delicious!" I answer, smiling back. "And I didn't end up in flames."

"Yes, I think we should appreciate that." He jumps to his feet and I take his hands.

"God, are your hands sweaty," I say but don't let them go. I would never let go of him if I could.

"Cooking is exhausting," he moans with shrugging shoulders. Sometimes I have the urge to grab them and keep them still - just for one frigging moment.

"Aren't you the Chosen One, who fought against dragons and chimeras? How can cooking be exhausting for you?" I tease him. Instead of denying, he starts grinning and leans forward so that his nose almost touches mine. I think he's going to kiss me but he just stares at me.

"Baz?"

"Simon?"

"Can you please use your magic so this is going faster? I can't wait any longer. I'm starving."

"You want me to waste my magic on a meal, which is ready in only one minute? I'm disappointed in you, Snow." I cross my fingers with his and stare at the moles on his cheek.

"Otherwise you have to amuse me for this long wait," he mutters smiling.

"Well, that's a different story," I answer and want to kiss him, but of course, exactly in this moment the clock starts ringing. "I think it's ready," I say and turn my face to the oven.

"I'm pretty sure it is," Simon agrees and lets go of my hands to open the oven door. A hot heatwave pushes against us.

"How do we get the roast out of it?" he asks while he covers his face with his hands.

"Gloves," I answer. "Do you have something like that in this messy kitchen?"

Simon starts to open randomly cupboards and shelves. It really seems like he never was in here before.

"Okay, this is taking too long. Little table, cover thyself!" I speak, pointing with my wand, and the hot roast flies to the table by itself. Bowls full of potatoes, gravy and stuffing as well as plates, knives, and forks follow.

"Oh, I love magic." Simon's eyes get a painful glance. "Sometimes I wish I only could -"

"Shh," I interrupt him. "Please don't think about what you can't have tonight. It will only hurt and we want to celebrate, remember?" I lay my hand on his shoulder and look deeply into his eyes. I hate it when he talks about his lost magic. It's so unfair that he had to sacrifice all of it.

"Yeah, I remember." His eyes find mine. He swallows. "But only because I was eating when we spoke about it."

I try not to crack a smile, but I'm totally lost when he gives me that look. This little smirk when he tries to cheer himself up.

"You're an idiot, Snow," I say laughing.

"Yeah, I know. But I'm your boyfriend. So, you're stuck with me." He grins from one side of his face to the other. It's adorable.

"A year ago, I only could dream about it," I say slowly. For a few seconds, we just stand there and stare at each other. His hair curls itself on his forehead and I stroke a lock away. He takes a deep breath. Then I clear my throat. "We should eat before it'll get cold."

"You're probably right," Simon says but doesn't move. Neither do I.

"I'm always right."

"I could start a fight about this right now but I'm too ravenous." His tail flips against my hand as he turns to the laid table. (I'm never sure if it's on purpose or not.) I follow him and fall on the chair so I'm facing him. We both load our plates with our self-made Pre-Christmas meal. I don't have a problem with eating in front of him - it feels totally normal that he can see my fangs, but I still don't do it in public. Or with my family. That's one of the reasons why we never go out for dinner, Simon and I. He doesn't like it when he's the only one eating and I'm just staring at him. So, we always order something because we normally don't cook. And sometimes Bunce takes pity and makes something for us.

"Did you already have some ..."

"I found a few rats in your basement, yeah."

"We have rats in our basement?" Snow asks and narrows his eyebrows.

"Not anymore."

"Oh... well." He takes the knife in his left hand. "Thanks then."

"You're welcome." I take my fork and try the first bite - just like Simon. There is a moment of silence while we're both chewing and trying to figure out what we did wrong. I really don't know.

"It tastes ...," Simon starts.

"Interesting," I continue.

"Well, that's one way to describe it. I'd say it tastes like ..."

"Two blokes tried to cook but hopelessly failed?"

"I wouldn't call it hopeless... I mean ... you can eat it."

"You mean you don't feel like throwing up?"

"Nope. Do you?"

"Hmm. No."

"Then it's quite good."

I laugh. "As you say." I take the next bite. "It gets better with time. And it's way better than the cake you baked for me on my last birthday."

"Pah! You should be happy that I even made this stupid cake then," Snow complains. "I needed hours because Penny had no time to help me. So, I did it all on my own. And I never ever used an oven before. Or even a beater." He gestures wildly with his fork. "And this time it wasn't only my fault. You said you know how this works but the truth is, you haven't the slightest idea! You...You just...You can't cook either! For Crowley's sake, maybe you cook even worse than me!"

I can't control myself but burst into laughter. "You're too cute, Simon," I chuckle. He tries to make a pout, but his lips tremble so heavily that he finally can't hold back a grin.