Chamber by Chamber // Snowbaz

Silver or Wedding Bells? (Both?)

"Oh?" I cock an eyebrow (not nearly as well as he can) as he nods and pulls me closer. I can feel my tail whipping around behind me, so I tell it to still and then wrap it around Baz's leg. He leans in and presses his lips to mine- I still wonder how it can feel like coming home after all these years. He's cold, and soft, and perfectly Baz. I open my mouth to let his tongue in, and we snog like that for a long while. (I've got a right hard-on, which Baz offers to fix for me. I tell him I can wait until after presents.) (If all goes according to plan, we'll need plenty of shag energy for after the proposal.)

Finally, after we've... settled, we're under the tree, presents in front of the both of us. I go first and see that he got me a jumper. The same exact one as the one I got him. I can't help but laugh out loud, prompting him to open up his jumper. When he does, his face is alight, completely fucking full of joy. (I love it when he gets happy like this. When I make him happy like this.) We both pull our jumpers on over our pyjama shirts (Well, his pyjama shirt. I haven't got one on at all) and he's grinning like an absolute nutter.

"What's so funny?" Seeing him laugh makes me laugh by extension- even if I don't know what he's on about. (It's just so rare, these happy moments. First there were my problems, and then we got to his. Then his dad dying, and Fiona getting paralyzed... it's been a hard few years.)

"We look horrendous!" I may not have ever been good at maths, but I'm fairly bloody certain that that isn't something to laugh about.

"And you... like that?" (S'pose I'm laughing, too. We do look well ridiculous.)

"I love it." He moves his presents closer to me and climbs into my lap.

"Why?"

"Because we match." I remember what Baz's mum - Natasha - used to tell him. Light a match in your heart, and blow on the tinder. That's how it feels to be with Baz. Like sparks. Like fire. Strong and passionate and resolute. He lights a match in my heart, and every day with him is just another blow on the tinder. (S'why I want to marry him, I s'pose. That and the fact that he's well fit.) I give him a sound kiss and then move my open my next present. (An ornament for our Christmas tree- a sour cherry scone!) Then it's his turn again. (He loved the vamp- called me a prat.)

Now it's my turn, the last present to open before he gets to the big one. It's small and boxed shape, and as I unwrap the silver from around it, I'm stunned bloody speechless. It's a ring box. Fucking tosser, always trying to steal my ideas! He's down on his knee now, which is a bit awkward because I'm still sitting. (Just like us- awkward and clumsy, but still wildly romantic.)

"Simon, I-"

"No." He stops in the middle of his speech, eyes dropping. His whole body sags, but before he can go too far, I say "Well, er- not no, I mean. Just- oh for Merlin's sake. Just open your next present." I shove it into his hands and he looks like he's heartbroken. (I hate myself for doing that to him- but it's for good reason!)

He runs a hand over his face and through his hair. "But Simon, I think we should talk abo-"

"Hush up-" I put my hand out to tell him to stop. He looks utterly taken aback. "Just open it, love." He still looks hesitant as he slowly unwraps it- every movement is torturous. When he fucking finally gets the god forsaken thing opened, his face lights up. Like a (pardon the pun) Christmas tree.

"I don't know what to-" I'm still holding the ring he got for me, and he's still holding mine. I cut him off and get on my knee, too. (Now we're just lunging in front of each other- which'd be plenty more normal if we were in a... different situation.)

"Listen, you prat. You're always trying to one-up me with your big romantic gestures, and well. I'm bloody sick of it, yeah?" I glance down at the box I hold in my hand. "Your bloody gorgeous ring you bought, how well fit you are, and just- all of it. So let me try for once, yeah?" This is the longest I've gone without stumbling over my words, and I thank Crowley for it. He nods and smiles a bit, letting me go on. "We've been together for five years now- this marks our anniversary. Five years ago today, I stumbled back onto your doorstep and told you I wanted to tumble around and be happy boyfriends. I told you I wanted to be your terrible boyfriend-"

"You did a right job at that, Snow-"

"Oh piss off," I laugh. "And for some reason, you accepted. You make me feel, um- well this is bloody hard since I don't talk about this, but, er- after all of the Humdrum, America and Watford stuff, I didn't think we'd make it. It was hard and tiring, and I never knew how to just talk to you. But in that year, there were these... pockets. Of happiness. Times where I'd look over and see you reading, and I'd go over and we'd snog a bit. Times where we would be in public and I wouldn't hold your hand- and instead of raising a bloody fuss, you just cracked jokes. You made me laugh when I felt like I never would again. I held true to my promise of being your terrible boyfriend. Now please, would you let me be your terrible fiance until we get married? Er- would you marry me, I s'pose is what I'm s'posed to say." I look at him- really look at him as I lay my heart out. The love in his eyes, that I had always convinced myself wasn't really there. The way he softened when I talked about how hard things were for me. Just... him.

"Well, Snow. That was lovely. And as promised, I won't one-up you this time, even though I do have a bloody perfect speech all prepared," I laugh and he smiles back at me, his eyes shining with tears unshed, and words unsaid. "But I do want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world. I would gladly get staked for you. Through all the things we've gone through - that I've gone through - my dad, mainly... you've been there for me. Every time I felt I hadn't a shoulder to cry on, there yours was. You're always there, so bright, so... alive. You make me feel alive, Snow. So, well. Marrying you... it's never been a question of if for me. Always a question of when. So of course I'll marry you, dumbarse- but will you marry me?" I'm laughing through my tears. Even when we're bloody proposing, we never cease to insult each other at any chance we get. (Old habits die hard.)

I launch myself into his arms, making him fall backward onto his back. I snog him senseless (I knew we'd need post-proposal shag energy) on top of him, and he holds me there, pressing back like I'm the air he breathes. I pull back for a beat and say, "Obviously I'll marry you, wanker." He smiles back up at me, eyes gleaming. (I'm sure I look the same.) (I can't wait to tell Penny the news.)

I'm marrying Baz.