Memshare

[flammablepitch]

As you set your things down in the dorm, your eyes wander to the other half of the room. It looks as if he hasn't arrived yet; good. It means that you still have a reprieve, a bit more time to steel yourself for the inevitable. You begin to start unpacking your things, eyes ever wondering back to that side of the room. It was like an elephant, that side, something that really couldn't be denied and would always bring your thoughts back to him.

Quite frankly, it sucked.

It had sucked every year before this, and it would suck until they graduated - or until he killed him. Baz was sure that's how this would end, with Snow killing him after they graduated, doing precisely what his personal god wanted him to do.

And yet there was nothing you could do about it. Not until you both graduated and you were given a reprieve from this damn torture.

Comments

[flammablepitch]

I haven't exactly tested the theory.

[If he sounds like he's smirking, that's because he is.]

If we were still at Watford, I'd ask if you wanted to.

[He bets Simon's blushing, wherever he is.]

[fuckingtragedy]

Would you now?

[Baz can hear Simon grinning.]

[flammablepitch]

Without question.

[A part of him wants to ask if Simon would take him up on it, but their relationship, their not trying to murder one another (mostly Simon was trying to murder him, really) was too new. He was still worried it was too fragile to handle questions like that.]

[fuckingtragedy]

If I didn't know better, I'd think that was a come-on, Baz.

[flammablepitch]

Don't think it isn't.

[fuckingtragedy]

You can't see my pearls, but I'm clutching them.

[flammablepitch]

[He really thinks about saying something inappropriate.]

That a no?

[fuckingtragedy]

Not entirely a no.

[flammablepitch]

Then what is it?

[Inquiering vampires want to know.]

[fuckingtragedy]

Tacit approval, mostly.

[flammablepitch]

We do share a dorm.

[fuckingtragedy]

The bed-pits are a bit small, don't you think?

[flammablepitch]

Then I suppose you're against sleeping together in any form.

[He's glad this is text. It would kill his dignity a bit for Simon to hear how disappointed he is in the idea of not being able to snuggle.]

[fuckingtragedy]

Or you could suppose that the one of us who still has magic should spell the bed larger, to accommodate the one of us who now has massive unwieldy dragon wings.

[flammablepitch]

Oh.

[He could 100% do that. He's going to do it now, in fact.]

[fuckingtragedy]

Oh, he says.

[flammablepitch]

You'll have to move down to bed 6.

[fuckingtragedy]

If you're all right with that.

[flammablepitch]

I wouldn't offer otherwise, Snow.

[fuckingtragedy]

Wouldn't you like to-- You know, give it a trial run? Make quite certain you actually want me in your bed every night?

[flammablepitch]

I've wanted you in my bed for almost seven years, Snow. That hasn't changed.

[fuckingtragedy]

Oh. Well. Right, but reality. You know...

You're welcome to kick me out of your bed if it's not all you hoped and dreamed. That's all.

[BECAUSE SIMON IS A DISAPPOINTMENT.]

[flammablepitch]

I promise you, that's not going to happen.

[Best sleep he had in his life was when the two of them were on that damn couch.]

[fuckingtragedy]

It could! You might re-evaluate the first time a wing accidentally tries to suffocate you.

[flammablepitch]

I won't.