The Key to My Heart (Or to Baz's Diary)

Mother Knows Best

Simon

While we eat breakfast, it's obvious neither of us know what to say. What is there to say after you've danced around the kitchen with your used-to-be enemy? At least I don't like to consider the two of us that anymore.

"Thanks for the food, Baz." I say, getting up from my seat at the kitchen table. He offers me a little smirk in return. Padding out of the kitchen, I make my way to the staircase and start for the bedroom.

I know what I'll have to do. Being happy with Baz felt so good that it hurt thinking it wasn't real for him. Sure, it might've been genuine in the moment, but that happiness wouldn't exist back at Watford.

It's hard for me to do this anymore. My heart feels like it's overflowing with my feelings for Baz, breaking at the prospect of him playing with me. I have to get out of this house before it breaks me. I need to find the diary. Baz can't win my everything. He's won my heart. I've got to win something now, before he rips me down.

I don't know if I love Baz. I'm close to that for sure. And it scares the hell out of me.

Baz

The silence at breakfast could be described as nothing except uncomfortable. Crowley knows I'm lucky our little dancing session didn't result in me falling faint. It was nice to see that Simon was genuinely enjoying something though. I'd like to think his laughter was real.

After breakfast -and the miserable awkwardness that came with it, Simon thanked me for the food and scurried back upstairs. He probably really had to piss.

Fiona walks in to the kitchen not long after, muttering a half dead good morning as she walks over to the coffee machine.

"Where are the cooks?" She asks, but doesn't stop pouring coffee powder into the top compartment of the machine.

"I thought I'd make breakfast this morning. Give them a break." Fiona nods her approval, back facing me as she rummages through the cupboards for a mug.

Once Fiona's coffee finishes brewing, she makes her way to the kitchen table and settles into the seat across from mine. I shove the extra plate of eggs I made for her across the table.

"Cold?" She asks.

I nod. "Unfortunately I wasn't ready to face the wrath of waking the princess over here. I figured cold eggs would be the better alternative."

Fiona snorts in retort and grabs the first fork in sight -mine, before wiping it off with her napkin. Proceeding to shovel eggs into her mouth.

"Can I talk to you, Baz? And I mean a serious talk, before you get all fresh with me."

"Isn't a bit early for us to be jumping into the thrall of adultery?"

"What'd I say about getting fresh?" Fiona doesn't seem annoyed in the slightest, more focused on her food than anything I've said so far.

"Sorry, sorry," I wave my hand back and forth. "Now what'd you need to talk to me about?"

"Simon," she says. Like I'm supposed to know where this conversation is headed. Once I notice Fiona's plate is empty, I grab it and make my way to the sink, waiting for an elaboration.

"What do you mean 'Simon'? Care to elaborate a little bit?" I make my way back to the table.

"Let's go to the living room now that we're done eating," I follow Fiona over to the main couch and seat myself beside her.

Fiona looks at me as if I'm supposed to know what to say. "Elaboration, please." I say, leaning my head against the back of the couch. I knew Fiona would be nosy when it came to my love life, but this is already enough to make me want to bang my head against a wall.