Midnight conversations in a bathtub // Simon Snow fanfic

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Hi there, this is set about halfway through the book Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell, so there are SPOILERS AHEAD !! If you haven't read it yet go do that now, I'll wait xx 

I just wanted to write about these two morons having a much needed conversation that they literally had ALL of Wayward Son to discuss and didn't. So here I am again, filled with sadness and rage, trying to get these boys towards the happy ending they deserve.

>All the characters and background plot belong to Rainbow Rowell, who is an amazing writer and an absolute genius.< 

Enjoy reading! And I'd love to hear your Wayward Son opinions in the comments!

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Baz

There's nothing like the feeling of bits of metal slowly pushing out of your chest to wake you up in the night.

I'm lying on my side on the hotel bed, my back to Bunce. She's breathing softly, snuffling a bit, which I try to ignore, and occasionally she'll kick me in the back of the knees with her foot.

I was shot today. And I survived. I survived bullets to the chest. It wasn't like I hadn't considered this - hadn't thought about it. Vampires are very nearly indestructible.

I just hadn't imagined myself that way.

I sit up, carefully, wincing as the bed creaks and Bunce stirs. She doesn't open her eyes. I summon a flame in my hand, a small one - even that still feels an effort. If I want my magic refreshed properly, I need to sleep.

Instead, I narrow my eyes at the tiny flame. It's practically one of the only things that could kill me. The colour stains my arm red orange, and the heat of it caresses my face. "Make a wish," I murmur, and it's gone.

Almost without thinking about it I look over for Snow - he was sleeping on the floor like a true gentlemen when I'd last checked - but he's not there. There's a rumpled pillow chucked on the carpet near the foot of my bed, and his blanket is cast aside.

I'm standing in a single, smooth movement, and my wand is in my hand even though I don't remember picking it up.

He wouldn't have left. Why in hell would he leave? If anything had happened, I would have woken up. (Snow would never go down without a fight.)

I scan the room fast - Shepard's out cold on his own bed, Bunce hasn't moved either - no one else is there. I'm ready to kick the hotel door open and sprint out into the night yelling Simon's name, but I check the bathroom first to be sure.

The door's ajar, the lights are off. But when I step into the room, he's there - sitting in the bath like he's not quite sure how he found himself there, wings curved against the tub because there's hardly any room.

"Snow," I say, more in surprise than anything else. I'm still holding my wand up, and I hastily stuff it into my jeans. (Yes - I'm wearing jeans to bed, and no shirt. It's a true low point.) (I miss my pyjamas.)

He startles, tail whipping around and hitting against the basin with a thud. He squints at me, struggling to take me in in the darkness.

"Is the bathtub more comfortable than the floor?" I ask softly, taking a hesitant step into the room. "You could have just taken the bed, Snow."

"I - " his voice is hoarse, burnt out like the rest of us. It's been a mess of a holiday so far. "It's cooler in here. I couldn't sleep much anyway."

I feel suddenly awkward. "I can leave, if you - "

"Baz," he says, and makes a motion like he's about to stand up but can't quite manage it. "Your chest - come here..."

Did I mention I wasn't wearing a shirt? And it's freezing, now I'm out of bed. Why Snow would want to sit in a bathtub to cool down is beyond me. (But he's always been far warmer than I am.)

I don't really want him to see the mess of cuts and bruises. But it's Simon, and if he asks me to come over I can't really refuse.

I kneel next to the bath and he touches my chest with a soft hand, right above where my heart would be beating. His fingers are warm. (Of course they are.)

"Does it - " his breath hisses out through his teeth, like he's the one in pain, "does it hurt?"

(Not as much as this does, Snow.) (Being so close to you but with not sure whether I'm allowed to touch you back.)

"Not as much anymore." I say quietly. He takes his hand away.

So now what, Snow? My knees hurt pressed against the tiles like this. He's not looking at me, I can see his jaw working and it looks like he's steeling himself up for something.

"Actually, Baz, I...wanted to talk to you about something."

And I think I know what it is. Now, Simon? Can't you just... at least give us a few more days?

Snow pats the bathtub, pulling his knees in so there's more room. "Can you - can you come here?"

I climb in carefully, expecting to get my jeans damp, but the tub is dry. Snow must have towelled it down or something. Or maybe his body heat is enough to make everything in the vicinity dry out.

Everything, including my mouth. This close to him, I'm terrified of what he's going to say. I don't think I could make myself swallow, even if I wanted to.

Alright. This is okay, this is fine. Sitting in a bathtub in a hotel room we didn't pay for, with my dragon-winged boyfriend. (Who may not want to be my boyfriend for very much longer.)

This is not fine. I hate this.

There's not enough room for both of us, really. His legs, even though he's drawn them tight, are still knocking against mine. I'm practically sitting on his tail. There's a window somewhere high up in this room, and the light cuts his face into shards of blue and shadow. His eyes are shining.

"I..." Snow looks away, huffing out a breath. I think he's more angry with himself than me (I'm hoping, anyway) since he doesn't seem to know how to get the words out. "We - I mean... when someone - "

"Take your time," I say quietly.

I swear he flinches a tiny bit, and I feel awful. I just want to grab him and pull him to me in this stupid bathtub and bury my face in his ragged curls, but now is really, really not the time.

Snow rubs his eyes, sighs. "I - Baz, I've been wanting to say for a while now... I think we should break up."