baz has decided that his favorite color is simon.
he tells simon this, one morning in the haze of just-waking and the golden sunlight illuminating their bed.
simon giggles at the statement, rolling over and stretching. his wings unfurl and flex lazily, catching the light so they look like fire fueled by glitter.
that's a part of the color that is simon.
the next part is his skin, tan and freckled. baz has yet to find a part of him (other than his dick, of course) that doesn't look like it was lightly splattered with mud, and he loves that. he's set a personal goal to kiss every one of those dots, no matter how small or big, no matter how awkward it is. he's also made a somewhat unconscious decision that he has to suck hickeys as many places as possible, and the sight of the golden mage, the chosen one, with love bites blooming all across his collarbone? it's one of the finer things in life.
another part is his hair. it's the color of honey that's been open and sitting in the pantry for a few months, and in the lighter chunks, it's the same color as butter. baz knows that he compares his boyfriend to food way too much, but how else to convey that simon snow is a fucking snack? his hair, his lovely, butter-colored hair, is insanely curly, and sometimes when he's been playing football, it frizzes itself an inch higher off of his head. it's also incredibly soft (when he remembers to wash it, because the boy is the ultimate disaster gay), and baz loves to run his fingers through it as he reads whatever book he has handy on those nights when the ghosts of the past refuse to stay in the past.
and the last part is his eyes. an ordinary blue, not electric, not shot with streaks of violet or hazel, not icy blue or deep ocean blue, just a comfortable, plain, cornflower blue. no, he doesn't love the color particularly, though if you asked he'd say it's the most beautiful plain blue in the world. what he loves is the way they light up at the sound of him entering the room or at the smell of cherry scones (he swears he'll die one day of scone-related illnesses), how they dart around curiously, how they blink slowly, full of sleep. baz loves that simon's entire heart can be seen from his eyes.
all of those parts blend together to make the color of simon, which is the most gorgeous color that baz has ever seen.
instead of expressing this, baz sits up as well, smiling gently as his love slips into the kitchen. he hears the kettle being filled, and makes his way to the table. simon's tail is swishing to the beat of the song that's playing on the radio, and he's mumbling along with it, as he gets out the cups.
"..stay, stuck, dreaming of our firstborn, your hair covered in popcorn, you never leave, you never leave, you never leave, you leave me uptight.."
'does simon think about children? us, raising children, together? does he think about.. marriage?'
"..strung, up like a kite, dumb, wicked and white, if i, betray our lonely nights.. spent, out like, a light, with, no kiss goodnight.. we never fight, when i'm away.."
baz finally speaks. "your voice is lovely, snow."
simon turns to him, blushing. he's still shirtless, so last night's masterpiece is on full display on his collarbone.
"you think so?"
"absolutely perfect."
penny waltzes into the kitchen, grinning at the two and sitting down.
"hello baz, hello simon, hello simon's hickies."
simon blushes even more at that, setting down the cups and fast-walking back to their bedroom, presumably to get a shirt. penny looks up at baz and smirks , because baz is smiling fondly at his lover's retreating wings. and when you're a sarcastic, rich vampire with some serious issues, smiling fondly isn't high on the list of things that people expect you to do.
"you really like him, huh?"
"what gave you that idea?"
and there was the normal baz.
hey guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! thx for reading my trash, I'm p new to the fandom and thought these boys deserved more content because yes.
might edit this later :)
♥️, ggyy
