accidental video; snow

[fuckingtragedy]

The feed begins with the accidental brush of a hand scratching the back of Simon's head. It's difficult to make out the surroundings for a moment. The room is dimly-lit, illuminated only by the insipid glow of a phone screen, but as Simon's eyes adjust, so does the quality of the feed.

Simon's clearly been camped here for a while. He's stretched out on a dorm common room couch, piled under a blanket and three pillows too many, because no matter how one is perched upon a couch, it's hard to get comfortable with giant wings to contend with. The floor in front of the sofa is littered with crisp wrappers and pop cans, and the only evidence that he's left his steadfast vigil at any point recently is the condensation clinging to the side of the bottle in his hand. The phone's been playing music -- 90's pop-punk that may sound vaguely familiar to some feed viewers -- but a low battery notification has been flashing intermittently and Simon seems unwilling to rectify the issue.

Don't speak, I know just what you're saying. So please stop expla--

Your battery is at 3%. Please connect a charger or enable battery-saving mode.

"No, sorry. None of that. We're going down together."

Simon sighs and lets the phone play itself dead, then fumbles for the remote and switches on the TV. After a few minutes of listless scrolling, he settles on a cartoon. Mouse and cat playing cat-and-mouse, and cartoon violence is usually hilarious, but--

It's muted. Or at the very least, the volume is too low to make out, and closed captioning rarely does the sound effects any justice. It's meant to be funny. Simon isn't laughing.

He finishes off the bottle. Adds it to the army of fallen soldiers on the floor. The feed cuts out again shortly after he unceremoniously shoves a pillow over his head.

Comments

[flammablepitch]

Yeah right. Simon, talk to me.

[fuckingtragedy]

I'm not sure what you'd like me to say, Baz. I don't know if this is the nightmare or just another-- you know. But I can't be arsed to drag myself out of the dorm to find out, either.

I'll manage either way. I have before, and I'll probably have to again. It's fine.

[flammablepitch]

I'm coming to get you.

[fuckingtragedy]

Is that wise? If this is the nightmare?

[flammablepitch]

Then come to me. I'm not letting you deal with this by yourself.

[fuckingtragedy]

[There's an inordinately long pause before Simon answers.]

I'll be a moment. Where are you, anyway?

[flammablepitch]

The library.

[action]

[fuckingtragedy]

[It takes a short eternity for Simon to actually collect himself. Nothing is simple. Not dragging himself off the couch, not forcing himself into the cleaning stall (which he's equally disappointed and grateful is not a shower), not pulling together a halfway-respectable outfit, and especially not walking -- let alone flying -- to the library to meet Baz.

Merlin and Morgana, why is Baz even here? It's probably good for Simon to get out of the dorm, whether this is a nightmare or no, but the energy doesn't seem to be returning to him quickly. Maybe one fed into the other. Or maybe he's using the nightmare as an excuse.

But he smells good, and he looks clean, and that's a good deal more than Baz ever got when Simon fell into these spells back home. Maybe something can be said for that. Or maybe, at this point, he just feels unworthy of standing next to Baz in public if he can't look at least partially put-together.]

So. [Simon says as he slips into a chair across the desk from Baz's seat.] This is a library. Haven't seen one of these since I spent Christmas at your house.

Re: [action]

[flammablepitch]

[Baz doesn't care if Simon smells good or looks good. He just wants Simon to be alright - which is why when he takes a seat across from him, Baz stands and walks over to wrap his arms around him tightly, kissing his neck lightly.]

Last time you tried to seduce me, and there was a suggestion of Wellbeloved seduce vampires.

[fuckingtragedy]

[The ghost of a smirk tugs at one corner of Simon's lips, and he rests his forehead on Baz's shoulder.]

Tried? Baz, I think we can both agree, I succeeded.

[flammablepitch]

Snow, you could look at me slack-jawed with cheese hanging out of your mouth and I'd be seduced. You're just that amazing.

[He rests a light kiss against Simon's forehead.]

Though I'd make you finish your cheese before kissing you.

[fuckingtragedy]

All right, charmer. Point taken. What kind of cheese shall I get for you?

[Simon breathes a quiet sigh, and despite the light-hearted words, his faint smile isn't reaching his eyes.]

You know you're too good for me. I'm terrified of the day you finally come to your senses and realize it.

[flammablepitch]

And I keep telling you that's horseshit. We're perfect for one another.

[fuckingtragedy]

Maybe you're only fooling yourself, but I'm grateful for it.

[Simon's smile is a little easier now. But they're in public, and that fact seems to be weighing a little heavier on him under Baz's affections. There's hand-holding, and there's this.

Then again, Baz had offered to come home. It's Simon's own fault they're in public in the first place. And maybe -- probably -- Simon can't be fucked to care. So instead of protesting, Simon snakes his arms around Baz's waist, traps him in a cage of his arms and presses his forehead to Baz's chest.]

What are you doing in a library anyway? Don't we have these book contraptions at home?

[flammablepitch]

[Baz is happy to have Simon's arms around his waist and wraps his own around Simon's in return.]

Not every type. I was looking for some new sheet music.

[fuckingtragedy]

I'm genuinely glad to hear that. It's been nice to listen to you play. Have you settled on anything? Some classic Britney, perhaps?

[flammablepitch]

You want me to play Brittany Spears on the violin? Crowley, Snow, that might be an insult to the violin.

[He leans in and kisses the other man's neck.]

[fuckingtragedy]

Fine, AC/DC and that's my final offer.

[Simon grins, and pushes a hand through Baz's hair.]

Seriously though, what have you found?

[flammablepitch]

I'm pretty sure there's no AC/DC for the violin. I've found some Chopan and some musicals.

[He lets his eyes close lightly.]

You smell nice.

[fuckingtragedy]

Yeah, d'you know, I cleaned myself today? I miss showers though. And those fruity soaps you used to keep. But cologne will do, I guess.

[flammablepitch]

They have those baths with real water. We could go there sometime.

[fuckingtragedy]

Without your fruity soap?!

I don't know, Baz. I've never been to a public bath. Have you? It seems saucy.

[flammablepitch]

Only if you make it saucy.

[He snakes his hand over Simon's stomach.]

And I bet there's a soapmaking book around here somewhere.

[fuckingtragedy]

[Simon snorts, but his face has gone a little red when he guides Baz's hand away to lace their fingers instead.]

Saucy soapmaking, then?

[flammablepitch]

I'm sure we can make soapmaking saucy.

[He curls his fingers around Simon's in return.]

Though, I was thinking floral.