Sixth Year (Snowbaz)

24. Northern Ireland Pt. III

A/N: So sorry for such a long time without updates. Thank you all so much for the comments it make my heart happy I love your reactions, even if it's just "asdfghjkjvfjsncjkdsan".

Simon

I wake up in Baz's arms, my palms and face nestled against his chest. I look up towards his face, he's still asleep. Lips parted angelically and long eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks. I check my phone, it's 8, two hours before the game, so there's time for me to lay here and watch him a little while longer.

I'm not sure why I kissed him last night, or why I did it again back in the tent, all I know is that it feels nice. Crowley does it feel nice. And he's still wearing that lovely blue jumper. It must be cashmere or something ridiculously upmarket because its so blooming soft. I caress the fine fibres between my fingertips.

I've never been this close to Baz while he's sleeping. We're always a good three feet apart and even when I slept on his couch that week I was still so far away. Either way it's always too dark to see. But, in the tent the gauzy walls let in the morning light and I can finally see him clearly. The sunlight paints his grey skin gold and I stroke the rays of light on his cheek with the pad of my thumb. His skin's not actually all that cold, not any colder than a regular person's on a chilly day. It's kissed by snow. Metaphorically and literally now, I guess.

Baz lets out a drowsy groan. Merlin, I hope he doesn't wake up in a bad mood.

I move my hand up from his cheek and into his inky black hair, brushing the silky strands out from his face.

Baz squirms slightly. "Simon..."

I love it when he calls me Simon.

"C'mon Baz the game's in two hours. We have to warm up."

He groans again and turns over. He's never going to wake up at this rate. I roll over in my sleeping bag and wriggle up close behind him.

I nudge his back with my knee. "Get up you lazy oaf."

"Make me."

So, since Baz apparently can't resist me, I make him.

He stays facing the tent wall. His sleeping bag bundled just above his hips so I find the hem of his jumper and undershirt and slip my hand underneath it, rubbing slow circles on the small of his back. I feel his muscles tense then relax under my hand. Unhurriedly, I drift my hand from his back to his sides, reaching all the way to his stomach and chest until I'm practically leaning over him.

Finally his eyes are open, great big pools of green-grey looking up at me in the morning  light.

My hand still on his chest, he reaches up and cups my face. His stare is unguarded and there's a previously unseen softness in his eyes, some sort of unspoken agreement in them. He wants this.

So, I shift myself slowly until I'm sitting on top of him, his hand still on my cheek.

"What're we doing Simon?" he whispers.

I shrug and he frowns. "A shrug isn't an answer."

"Something better than fighting."

He opens his mouth to contend but before he can I lean down swiftly and kiss him keenly. Baz lets out a sigh as he gives into me and his grievances leave his body under my touch.

***

After a passing of time that can only be described as 'not enough', Baz's alarm goes off. The suddenness of it makes us pull apart so abruptly that we're on our knees staring at each other with wild eyes. Baz's typically neat hair is a mess, tufts sticking up in the directions that my hands dragged them in. His lips are also ridiculously swollen. We're a mess.