Snowbaz Oneshots

#3

(modern au)

(Simon's p.o.v.)

I sighed, trudging along after Penelope. She always dragged me along to boring museums. I glanced around. All these paintings looked the same. I pulled out my phone, scrolling through Instagram. Nothing interesting. Just a bunch of photos of food and Starbucks coffees and annoying selfies that all looked the same. I turned off my phone, shoving it into my back pocket. This museum was impossibly boring. I stopped, texting my friend. Penny glanced back and gave me a disapproving look. 

"Come on, Simon!" she said. I groaned.

"Penny, why do you always have to bring me? You know I find these things boring. All these old paintings all look the same."

Penny scowled. "You have no appreciation for old art." She stepped back and snatched my phone from my hands, waving it in my face before dropping it in her bag. "No more phone for you, Simon Snow."

I tried to grab it back and she turned around and strode off to the next room briskly. When she was turned towards the wall, entranced with some 18th century portrait, I pickpocketed my phone away from her, snatching it from the side pocket she had unceremoniously put it in. I slid it unlocked and opened the camera, checking if my curly hair was sticking up like it was this morning. It wasn't, but the light in the museum room was perfect, for one whole wall consisted of windows. I snapped a picture of myself and felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around, thinking it was Penny, but it was a good looking security guard, smirking slightly. A strand of shoulder length black hair fell in front of his face, and his dark eyes glinted from under the brim of his cap.

"No pictures of the artwork, please," he reprimanded gently. 

I flushed, embarrassed. "O-oh, I was only taking a... a selfie." Oh God, I hated that word. 

The guard winked. "I know. You're artwork too, dontcha think?" I blushed, and he tipped his head, strolling back to his position in the corner. I found myself staring back at his retreating back. I turned back to Penny and a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground from my shoulder. I picked it up, and saw the name 'Baz' written on it, followed by a phone number. I looked back up to the guard and met his gaze. "Call me," he mouthed, and I flushed pink again, nodding numbly. Was I just hit on by the security guard?

Maybe this trip to the museum wasn't as boring as it may seem.