BITE - a snowbaz fanfiction

10

I wake up sweating and panting through gritted fangs.

The first thing I do is try to sit up, but it hurts, so I sink back into my covers. "Snow," I grunt, still heaving.

After a moment, he rolls over and silently crawls toward me, the only sound being friction of sheets on sheets.

He doesn't say anything.

Simon gently wraps his arms around my waist and nudges me closer to him. I shift near him and lay my head on his sternum, and he nuzzles his chin into my head.

I'm staring at the wall mindlessly, remembering back on today—well, yesterday, now. "I won't ever leave," Simon promised me.

When I was at the worst moment in my life, when I was supposed to be dead, Simon Snow healed me with his magic that was previously lost, with his love for me that was previously gone.

I'm so charmed.

"Why'd you sing 'Bobby Shafto's gone to sea'?" I wonder aloud.

He laughs in a breathy, gleeful way. "Felt like it."

I run my fingers through his hair then drop my hand to cup his jaw. " 'He'll come back and marry me'." I ponder what he means. "Simon?"

He shrugs. "S'fitting."

Merlin.

"There's not a time I can imagine without you, Basil," he continues drowsily. "S'not like I'm ready for anything, but not like I'm ready to ditch you again."

Merlin.

I lean up and kiss his cheek. "You're precious, Simon."

"Go to sleep."

I wake up for the second time when Simon attempts to push me off him.

"Basil, Merlin, let me get up."

"It's, like, seven in the morning. And a Saturday."

"And?"

"So we're sleeping. Because you're warm."

He groans and falls back on the bed in defeat.

I smile smugly at him, then I crawl onto his chest, one leg draped over his own. "Did I mention that you're quite adorable when your hair is messy like that?" I say sluggishly.

"Quit it."

(He's terrible at a poker face.)

I nuzzle my chin into his collar and playfully nip at the skin, to which he nips back at me.

(I really should have expected that, but it surprises me.)

"You piece of—"

I interrupt Simon's words with a soft kiss, and his temper mitigates immediately. "I love you," I say gently.

(It's my favorite thing to say.)

(And it shuts him up too. Normally.)

"That's pretty gay of you," Snow mutters.

"S'the point, idiot."

I press myself as close as I can to him and kiss his neck gently. He sighs, and I whisper, "I love you," again and again.

Until he finally replies, "You're a dumbass."

"You as well."

"Shut up."

"Sleep."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'm not tired."

"But I am. So sleep."

He groans again.

"You're warm, what do you expect?"

"To be able to get up so I can make breakfast."

"You're making me breakfast?"

"Us. Yes."

"In that case."

"I can get up?"

"No. But I can torture you because I know you're hungry now."

"Starving, Basil, please."

I kiss his cheek. "Ten minutes."