Chamber by Chamber // Snowbaz

C'mere

COC #14: Favorite Trope/Cliche

There was only one bed. Need I say more?

~Enjoy!~

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, you utter imbecile." Baz whispers under his breath, walking into our room. Well... what's left of our room, anyway. It's the first day of sixth year and I've already managed to fuck up a spell. I was using 'Out, Out, Damned Spot' to get a stain out of Baz's bed (I knew he'd just blame me for it as soon as he got back otherwise), and, well. My world decided that it would bloody well be funny to torture me for a bit. Everything in our room (clothes, desks, posters) vanished except for Baz's bed. (With the bloody spot still on it, no less.)

"Listen, Baz, I can-" He raises a hand to stop me. He seems to be looking everywhere but me at the moment, which I s'pose isn't unusual, but it's just... unsettling right now.

"No, Snow," He spits. (He sounds tired.) "I know what you did. You did what you always do. Crowley, you managed to fuck up even more than usual this time, but it's still as you do all the time. You complete arsehole. Christ, what the bloody hell, Chosen." He only swears like a Normal when he's angry (so only around me), but this time I deserve it, so I just let him go. He keeps on cursing and glaring and stomping around to inspect the room. Soon, he stops and lets out a defeated sigh.

"Baz, I-"

"Save it, Snow,"

"No, it's just that-"

"Piss off!"

"Baz!" I shout, magic pouring out. The word is drenched in it. He snaps to attention and he seems ready to listen, but he plays it off like it didn't affect him. (I wish he wouldn't do that- we both know it did. He never even gives me a chance to apologize.)

"Okay you fucking manky chav, spit it out, then. What's going around in your barmy head this time?" He's sneering more than usual, which I guess makes sense considering our predicament.

"Just stop being such a bloody prat and let me talk, okay?" He nods but doesn't look at me as he stands with his arms crossed, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. "It's getting late," I gesture out our (thankfully still there) window. "How d'you think we're gonna sleep?" He rolls his eyes, but he looks at the bed with uncertainty. I think we're thinking the same thing (think because how could he ever be thinking the same thing as me?), but neither of us says it.

"Do you, um..." Baz never stutters. Is he nervous? "We could just..." He trails off, never finishing his sentence. I roll my eyes. If he thinks he'll lure me in that easily, he's a nutter. Absolutely mad as a bag of ferrets. I scoff (as much as is possible for me, anyway) and grab a pillow from his bed before he can say anything about it.

"If you think I'm going to sleep in the same bed as you while you plot to kill me, you're off your rocker. You could kill me in my sleep!" He rolls his eyes. (He's done that a lot since he's gotten here.)

"I could always kill you in your sleep, Snow. We live together." He has a point, really. But something about sleeping in the same bed as my arch enemy is... uncomfortable to say the least.

"Don't be dead from the neck up. I'll just sleep on the floor." I huff over to the other side of the room and plop my pillow down, laying on the (cold and hard) floor defiantly.

"Such a knob..." I hear him mutter as he spells the lights off. The moon shines through our window and lights him up as he climbs into the (comfortable) bed and slips under the (warm) covers. I curl up into a ball and close my eyes, trying to sleep. But since my bed is gone which usually smells of smoke, I can't smell anything comforting. There's a far off smell of cedar and bergamot, which has become a constant over the years, but it's not close enough to lull me to sleep. I can see Baz breathing, but it's not steady; which means he's not sleeping yet.