All That We Are Is Who We Must Be

Baz.

Simon quickly Magics up some popcorn for poor Tasha before joining me in our room to get changed. As he closes the door, he shouts something to her in rapid-fire French (in an effort to raise bilingual kids, I taught Simon French; we switch back and forth between the two languages while talking to the girls), but I'm too distracted by how nice his ass looks in the jeans he's wearing to catch what he's saying. I think I finally understand his obsession with jeans... I never quite got it, before, but now I'm starting to.

Leaning against the closed door, he grins at me. I sit up, eyes traveling back to his face.

"What?" he asks. I stand up. The smirk on his face doesn't falter.

"What do you mean, what?" I bounce back. Those blue eyes sparkle impishly as I take a step towards him, crossing my arms.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" I'm closer to him now, and I can smell him. He smells like leaves and pumpkin spice and candied apples; I want to bury my face in his neck and breathe it in.

"Like what?" I ask, reaching out for his hand. Simon closes the distance between us, brushing his fingers over my chin instead of taking my hand.

"Basilton, were you staring at my ass?" A slow grin spreads across my lips as I catch his hand in mine.

"There is a definite possibility that that was what I was doing, yes," I tease, leaning in to kiss my favourite mole on his neck.  Simon presses his mouth to my ear, his voice a low, sultry whisper.

"Baz," He says. I nod, brushing my lips over the mole.

"Yes?"

"We need to get dressed." And just like that, to my chagrin, he slips out of my arms and walks through the bathroom and into the closet, leaving me with my mouth hanging open in indignation. The bastard even has the nerve to laugh.

"What?" I exclaim, walking over to the closet. Simon shuts the door, and I hear the lock click. The literal bastard. "Simon! I can flirt with you in our bedroom, you knob! Now you're just being mean!"

"I know!" He replies cheerily over the rustle of clothing. I sink down on the edge of the tub, pouting (if I had 1p for every time I've pouted over Simon in my lifetime...).

"I am a vampire, you know," I tell him, crossing my legs and waving my wand about lazily in the air.

"I'm aware of that, yes." I spell dry snow into the air, watching it disappear as it nears the cold tile of the floor.

"I could break down the door and eat you," I say blandly. Simon laughs.

"Yep. I'm sure you could." I make a rainbow snake through the room, bending it into ridiculous shapes.

"Then I could eat your children."

"Oh heavens no, not the children," Simon deadpans.

"Simon," I whine. With a short flick of my wand and a Do the Hokey Pokey spell, I send an invisible finger through the door to poke him in the ribs. A grin of triumph tugs at my lips when I hear him yelp in surprise.

The triumph fades when a wave of golden magic comes bursting through the closed door and engulfs me, feeling like a million tiny hands tickling me. Note to self; never poke the most powerful Mage our world has ever seen.

I'm doubled over, laughing, trying to fend off whatever spell he's set upon me.

"Okay, okay, truce!" I gasp out.

"Promise not to poke me again?" He's teasing me. I can practically hear the little shit smiling.

"Nope," I reply.

"Will you leave me be if I give you a kiss?"

"Yep."

The door opens, revealing a (regrettably) fully-clothed Simon. Sure enough, he's smirking at me as I take in his costume (sometimes I regret teaching him to properly smirk). He's wearing this dark crimson suit, and he's spelled wings onto his back again. They're still dragon wings, but they're different enough from his last pair that I can look at them without shuddering. He looks stunning.

"How do I look? I'll let Tasha do my makeup after you get dressed." He spreads his arms and turns in a circle, letting me see the whole thing.

I raise one eyebrow at him, crossing my arms.

"You promised me a kiss, Simon," I say petulantly. Simon copies my pose, eyes traveling around the room.

"Why is it snowing, and why is there a rainbow?" He asks, ignoring my request. I look around, grinning.

"I got bored. See what happens when you ignore me?" Simon stares me down, still smiling.

"Fine. You may kiss my cheek, Basilton, and then you have to get dressed so we can go to Penny's."

I groan dramatically. Simon is too persistent with this little game of his, and I know he's only doing it to drive me postal. I thought I was the plotting, evil one in this relationship?

"Fine," I concede, standing up. "But the minute the children are out of the house--" Simon pulls me forward, silencing me with a short, chaste kiss on the lips (finally).

"My cheek, if you will," he orders pompously. I lean forward, brushing my lips against his soft cheek.

"I'll go get dressed," I whisper, "But only because the sooner we get there, the sooner we can come back."

With that, I go into the closet, not bothering with the door (I'm not as evil as Simon, contrary to popular belief). Quick as I can, I change into my vampire costume (Natasha picked it out, and she nearly shit herself laughing while doing so. She's Simon's daughter, through and through)(Both girls think it's the coolest thing ever that I'm a vampire, and they've started treating any Normal vampire portrayals like the funniest jokes in the world, which is why Tasha finds my costume so hilarious). Once I'm dressed, I slick back my hair so my widow's point hairline is sharper than ever, then relax my jaw, allowing my fangs to slide into place. It feels weird, having them out like this, but better this than those awful-tasting plastic ones Normals use.

When I'm done, Simon calls for Tasha, who sits us both down on the edge of the tub and starts doing our makeup (which, for the work of a five year old, really isn't half bad). She paints red scales onto Simon's cheeks, and does a trickle of fake blood down from my lower lip. As she works, I inch my hand over to Simon, who, to my immense relief, takes it. Looks like his game does not extend to hand-holding.

Tasha deems us pretty enough, and I quickly dab polka dots onto her cheeks to match her costume. Lulu's skin is too sensitive for the makeup, so we just wake her from her nap to take her out to the car. I grab their little trick-or-treat buckets and their overnight bags, stuffing them into the boot of the car. And then we're off again, on our way to Penny and Micah's house.

All I want to do is to get this over with so I can kiss my sonofabitch husband.